Second Time of Asking

"One more session with the quarterstaff, Faith and then I think we're done –"

Giles picked up the two lengths of wood leaning against the wall and tossed one to Faith, who stood, bouncing lightly on her toes, her hair in wild disarray. She was grinning, every inch of her suffused with energy. He was exhausted, sweaty and wondering if he'd last longer than a minute against her given the way he felt.

"Done? Oh, I'd say so, wouldn't you?"

Giles watched Faith's face react – shock, pleasure and wariness flowing over it in bold, easy-to-read print – and then turned slowly, casually.


The man in the doorway of the training room, haggard and pale, gave him a look that promised pain and took three slow steps into the room. "Obviously. So sorry I'm late."

"For what?" Giles asked, frowning.

Wesley swept out his hand. "The session of course. Almost over, I suppose, given the way you're having trouble breathing steadily. Most remiss of me to be so tardy." He gave them both a cold smile. "Of course, had I been told that my Slayer was active again and in need of training, instead of finding it out third hand –"

Faith's, "I'm not your –" clashed mid-air with Giles' less forceful, "Wesley –" but neither made any impact.

Wesley walked up to Giles and took the staff from him, spinning it in his hand. Giles debated snatching it back but surely Wesley wouldn't use it on him? Reflecting that if he did, his money was on Faith, who would certainly intervene, Giles stepped back and folded his arms across his chest.

"Since Buffy's death –"

"Yes. I heard about that too. Eventually," Wesley said, his gaze on Faith. "My condolences." His head tilted and Giles found himself on the receiving end of another less-than-friendly stare. "So, tell me; having screwed up with your Slayer, what the hell makes you think I'd trust you near mine?"

Faith had been oddly silent, apart from that one retort but that sent her over to Wesley, dark eyes narrowed. "Wes, get over yourself! And stop giving Giles a hard time. Since when were you a Watcher? You're one of Angel's boys these days."

"That part of my life is over," Wesley said flatly. He sighed, the first sign of relaxation he'd shown. "Not my choice, not really, but it is."

"You haven't exactly been forthcoming yourself," Giles said quietly. "We heard about what happened, of course, but it was terribly confusing...?"

He let his sentence tail off, hoping that if he could get Wesley talking, the tension between them – a tension he didn't quite understand – would dissipate.

It worked in that Wesley let the quarterstaff drop from his hand to clatter against the wooden floor and went to lean against the vaulting horse, resting his hands on top of it and looking exhausted. "I died. You heard that much, I suppose?"

"Cried over you, Wes," Faith said, the flippancy of her words softened by the genuine emotion behind them. "Ask Giles here."

"She was... upset," Giles said. He gave Wesley a small smile. "After the grief had abated slightly, she dealt with it in her own fashion." He gave her a fondly reproving look. "Slaughter, mayhem and – well."

"Yeah," Faith said, giving him a sultry smile back, her body shifting in a way that reminded Giles of the one time he'd seen her dance, at the Bronze, surrounded by boys, clustered close and positively drooling, the fools. "Lots of 'well'."

"I'm glad my death produced such beneficial side-effects," Wesley said dryly. "I trust my resurrection wasn't unwelcome?"

"Yeah," Faith said, staring at him. "That was kinda weird. You sure you're you? Not a ghost, a zombie, a robot, a –"

"Human," Wesley said, interrupting her. "With a soul and completely un-possessed."

"We heard the fact, but not the how and why," Giles told him. "And of course we were glad, but an explanation would be reassuring."

Wesley shrugged. "I died, Gunn died. Angel... didn't take it well. Then Cordelia stepped in."

"This would be the Cordy who's also on the deceased list, right?" Faith said, rolling her eyes. "Sheesh. L.A. Always gotta have the comebacks..."

"She's gone from this plane, yes," Wesley said. "But it would be a mistake to assume someone who's spent time as a Higher Power is rendered powerless by something as mundane as the destruction of her earthbound body." His mouth twisted in a smile. "The Powers weren't too pleased at what happened the night I died. Rules were broken, lines overstepped... Basically, someone was a bad loser and the Powers didn't care for that level of pettiness. Cordelia brought Gunn and me back as a slap on the wrist for those responsible for sending ten thousand demons and a dragon loose on the city."

"Good Lord," Giles muttered. "It's all just a game to them, isn't it?"

"'As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods; They kill us for their sport,'" Wesley quoted. "Seems to cover it, I agree."

"Except in this case, they didn't kill you; you got a second chance."

Wesley gave Faith a curt nod. "So it would seem."

'But you're not with Angel," Giles commented.

"Neither is Gunn. Neither is – none of us are," Wesley told him. A smile slipped across his face, transient and swift. "Buffy's death – irreversible, permanent, coming so close to all that had happened – it left him – changed."

"Not into Angelus?" Giles asked sharply. Dear God, he didn't think he could go through that again –

Wesley shook his head. "Quite the reverse." He stared across the room, looking pensive. "Although he's back in leather. He didn't borrow my bike, for obvious reasons, but he took off to fight evil wherever he could find it, as long as it wasn't L.A." He bit his lip. "He's gone back to my old job of rogue demon hunter in fact, and I – well, you know what I've come back to do."

The fleeting lightening of the mood fled. "Wesley, I have to say that the Council wouldn't look favourably on that."

"Bollocks," Wesley said with a tart asperity. "You are the Council, Giles. You might have cleverly shoved some poor sod in Quentin's chair to spare you the tedium of the 9 to 5, but you can't fool me. You're doing exactly what you want to do and you're running the show." His gaze travelled to Faith. "Isn't that right?"

"He does enjoy this way too much," Faith agreed with a grin. "Likes me being all docile and stuff when it comes to training and Slaying as well. Makes up for when neither of you could do a thing with me, I guess." She gave a wriggle and a sigh. "Good days..."

Giles gave her a warning look. Oh, she'd pay for that later...

"Well, much though you might be deriving some pleasure from this situation, Giles, I'm Faith's Watcher, not you."

"You were fired, Wesley and that hasn't changed!"

"Standing right here," Faith said to the air. "Guys, much though I love you fighting over me –" She pursed her lips. "Yeah. Come to think of it, I do. Carry on."

She sauntered over to a stack of exercise mats and sat down cross-legged, placing the staff beside her. "Off you go," she said encouragingly. "Giles is kinda worn-out, but Wes, you look like fucking shit, to be honest, so it should be fair, if either of you cares about that."

Giles and Wesley exchanged glances in which enough was shared to make Giles feel confident of Wesley's support when he turned back to Faith. "I don't think so," he said slowly. "Faith, need I remind you again, of just where the power lies in the Watcher/Slayer relationship?" He watched her flush, the colour racing into her cheeks. "I thought not. You will work with whomever is assigned to you, no questions, not quibbles, no rebellions, subtle or overt. Am I making myself clear?"

He was laying this on an inch-thick, he knew, but with Faith sometimes he had to. And that catch of breath from Wesley, who had to be wondering what had changed –

"Yeah, Giles," Faith muttered after a long moment. "Crystal fucking clear."

"Do you let her swear like that?" Wesley said in a conversational tone. "Because I think I'd be inclined to view that as a breach of the respect due between –"

"Oh, Faith knows the penalties for disrespect," Giles said evenly. He watched her eyes sparkle as they met his and fought back his automatic response. "She simply –sometimes- prefers to pay them rather than curb her tongue. Her choice to make."

"Totally fucking is," Faith murmured. "Fine. You two aren't gonna fight over me, or for me. What about with me?"

"I don't understand," Giles said, his mind, as ever, racing to keep pace with her vagaries. She kept his life from being dull, but sometimes at the cost, he feared, of his sanity.

She stood up stretching her arms high above her head so that the tight top she wore strained over her full, round breasts. Minx, Giles thought, knowing Wesley's eyes had fallen, as had his.

"Giles, looks like Wes here is footloose and fancy-free. Wants to fight the good fight."

"I really think I could describe my current status using rather fewer clichés," Wesley said.

"Whatever. You're here, and you want me back. Same reason as Giles, I bet. You failed big-time before and you want to wipe –"

"Don't, I beg of you, mention a slate," Wesley said, wincing. "But in essence, yes, you're correct."

"She's not your Slayer," Giles said feeling that point needed to be stressed. Often and, if necessary, with a greater volume that he was employing.

"But she could be," Wesley replied.

"Could belong to both of you," Faith said.

They turned to look at her and she gave them a slow smile before bending to pick up the quarterstaff. "Giles, this is me we're talking about. You know you can't keep up with me these days when it comes to training." The last five words saved her from his wrath, but even so... "And Wes, no offence, but I doubt you could either, no matter how much stubble you've got going for you. Way I remember it, guns are your thing, and you can't really shoot me to slow me down, now can you?"

"Tempting thought though," Wesley said tightly.

"What point are you meandering towards, Faith?" Giles said. "And is it really necessary to insult us as you get there?"

"If the truth hurts, Giles, you've got a problem. Seem to recall you being pretty firm on the whole, 'no more lies' deal, yeah?" She didn't wait for an answer, just walked past them both and gathered up the staff Wesley had discarded. "Here," she said, passing them over. "Both of you come at me. Try and take me." She tossed back her hair, her eyes gleaming. "Give me a proper workout. Go on."

"Oh, you're testing my patience, Faith," Giles warned her. "I really –"

"She's right," Wesley said suddenly. "A Slayer like this one – the only true Slayer left – and don't tell me that rabble of children Willow raised even comes close to her, because I won't believe you –" Faith gave him a swift, warm glance, and Giles groaned inwardly. He felt the same way, deep down, but he'd never actually told her that –

"She needs more than you can give her, Giles." He gripped the staff. "And a Slayer needs to lose every once in a while to teach her that it's possible, make her wary. You can't beat her, Giles."

"Not without help," Giles said, exchanging a look with Faith that had Wesley pausing, looking between them with an uncertain, then speculative expression on his face. "Very well. Faith, are you –"

Wesley lashed out with his staff, landing a blow to Faith's arm that had her grunting with shocked pain.

It took Giles a moment to remember that he was supposed to be doing the same and that Wesley wasn't in dire need of a punch for attacking Faith too soon. God, he'd actually thought Wesley hadn't been fair. Maybe he was getting too old for this...

Faith's spinning kick, that sent Wesley slamming back against the vaulting horse helped to restore his good humour though. Especially as it allowed him to step behind her and bring his staff across the back of her knees –

The sparring session lasted for ten minutes – far longer than he'd ever managed to engage her before – and even if, by the end, he was hurting, he was filled with a savage exultation because, dammit, they'd slowed her down. Wesley fought with a clean, economically brutal style that Giles admired and matched with his own extensive repertoire of flat-out dirty street-fighting, learned over four decades, and between them they reduced Faith to drawing on reserves of strength, exerting herself, so that when Giles called a halt, she was panting, her hair damp with sweat.

"Now that was fun," she said, getting her voice under control while the two of them were still gasping. "Well, Giles? Gonna share and share alike?"

Wesley turned his head, waiting for an answer with an odd vulnerability softening the harsh lines of his face.

"Possibly," Giles said. He jerked his head. "Let's get cleaned up first."

Faith smiled. "Sounds like a plan. You coming, Wes? Water's hot, and there's plenty of towels."

Wesley pushed himself upright. "Thank you." He slipped off the leather jacket he'd fought in, draping it over the horse, and followed them through the door that led to the showers and a well-equipped first-aid room.

The showers were clean and even luxurious, with no overtones of locker rooms – and they smelled faintly of citrus, not commercial cleaner, but Giles knew that wasn't why Wesley came to a sudden halt.

There were four shower heads – but all were placed within a single, wide, open cubicle, two on the right hand wall, two on the left, with a long, wide bench running along the back wall, formed from the same plastic as the walls.

"I'll wait my turn," Wesley said flatly, backing away.

Giles smiled and started to undress. "There's no need."

Faith skinned out of her top, wincing slightly. "Yeah, Wes. Room for three. Told you that."

Giles arched an eyebrow, and yes, he was enjoying this mild revenge on Wesley, he admitted it. His own sense of duty compelled him to agree that Faith would benefit from both their attentions, but it didn't mean he liked the implications. Faith had been careful – for her – to draw a distinction between the areas in which he was apparently remiss, and those where he was more than adequate, but he couldn't help feeling a need to prove himself and a stirring of territorial pride.

 "Faith's going to need help scrubbing her back, Wesley. I imagine she's feeling a little sore right now."

Faith rotated her shoulders and sighed. "Got that right. Did you two have to be so rough on me?"

There was a languor to her voice, a husky invitation, and Giles, as always, felt his cock harden in response.

"You know we did."

She kicked off her black jeans and hooked her thumbs inside the skimpy pair of scarlet panties that were all she was wearing, peeling them down, her breasts swaying gently as she bent over to step out of them. "Guess you'd better come and kiss me better then."

Giles smiled at her. "I think I could do that for some of the bruises at least." He glanced at Wesley. "But I didn't cause them all."

He waited until Wesley began to unbutton his shirt with unhurried fingers before joining her under the near-scalding, powerful spray.


Wesley watched Giles' hands knead Faith's shoulders and wondered why, with so much skin to stare at and no eyes on him to see where he was looking, he couldn't glance away from them. There was something so compelling about the large, strong hands on that soft skin, covering those fine, slender bones.

Naked, Faith was rounded, with surprisingly lush curves of breast and hip, her strength evident in the play of muscles under her skin but she still looked – Wesley remembered her fists hammering another shower wall into shards and discarded 'fragile', threw away 'delicate' and settled, grudgingly, for 'fuckable'.

And clearly Giles shared his opinion. A shift in position as Faith arched her back and turned a blind face up to the jetting spray meant he could see Giles's body fully, still powerful, even if the hair on his chest was greying and his belly showing signs of too long spent sitting at a desk. Wesley slipped off his shirt and let his gaze move down Giles' body. Oh, yes, Giles was ready. Cock hardening, jerking slightly in reaction as Faith leaned back and her hand slid into his to brace herself – a gesture too relaxed to be for his benefit, received too casually for it to be unexpected.

Wesley bit back a question – half a dozen of them in fact – and finished stripping.

He wanted this. Wanted to be Faith's Watcher. He hadn't anticipated an easy acceptance – he'd been prepared to fight, if not physically, and he'd been prepared for hostility.

He'd not, however, been prepared for this solution, still less for it to come from Faith, and this final challenge was testing him past his limits. Passionless jerking-off, staring blank-eyed into darkness, refusing to conjure a face, a body to help him reach a solitary, joyless climax – that was all the release he'd had for so long.

The arousal that gripped him now was visceral, primal and he was trembling with the force of it.

He wondered which of them he wanted to touch the most, and if either of them really wanted his hands on them. A dead man's hands. Would that matter to them, as it did to him in those early days when he scrubbed them until they bled, certain they stank of the grave?

And Faith had cried over him, mourned him? He knew they'd parted on better terms than he'd ever thought possible, but still –

And he was back at wanting answers to questions, but Giles' soaped hands were sliding over Faith's breasts, pinching her nipples to peaks despite the heat of the water, as she leaned her head back against his shoulder, and her hands were behind her, moving slowly up and down his thighs caressing him. They didn't look in the mood to talk and Wesley couldn't help envying them.

Whatever had brought them together had put a look of contentment on Faith's face, happiness on Giles' and as he took a step forward, then another, bringing him to a place where the fine spray was misting his body he hesitated. He'd spent his life feeling like an unwelcome intruder, always second-best, always missing out – how could this possibly be any different? He couldn't force himself into this – A hand shot out, gripping his wrist and a second took hold of a far more vulnerable part of him. Wesley gave in and stumbled the one step needed to bring him into the heat and the water, into the waiting arms.


Giles was probably going to give me hell for this. Wouldn't be the first time I'd, oh, how does he put it? Shocked him with my 'impetuous ways'. 'Course, the first time was when I cleared his desk  by tipping it up so we could fuck on it, and I have to give him props for getting the job done before he started to lecture me.

This, though – I could tell he was hurt. Little bit, anyways, and that I was going to deal with. I owed him. and if I jumped his bones the first time just to cheer him up and, yeah, because I was itching under my skin it'd been so long, well, now I was doing it for better reasons than that.

If I didn't love him, not quite, not yet – more complicated than that – he'd got me caring for him and he had my respect from the first time he followed through on his promise to make me regret mouthing off when he was totally sending me to sleep by drawing diagrams on a fucking whiteboard. I mean; like a battle plan's any good in the field?

Have to say, face down over his lap, jeans around my knees, I kinda saw the error of my ways. Bastard didn't touch me for a week after that either, until I was so primed people were jumping out of my way when I walked towards them. Guess I look pretty fucking scary when I'm not getting any and the only one I want it from for some reason is giving me these chilly fucking smiles and pretending I've never had his dick down my throat, never had his fingers knuckle-deep in my cunt.

Oh, he's good at pretending. Me, not so much. And he's not the only one who can make threats and follow through with them.

But Wes died at the end of that week and I shelved my plans to seduce Giles back between my legs and went out to kill.

Not sure Giles really got why. He knew what I'd done to Wes that time, knew and never said a word when I mentioned it, just flexed his hand, the one Angelus broke into pieces, and looked so fucking sad, and if I'd ever thought I'd wiped away the shame in prison, with long hours to do nothing but whisper 'sorry' to the silent walls, I learned better.

And Wes died and I knew that was one debt I'd never get to repay and it fucking tore me up.

Yeah. That's pretty selfish, I know – sounds that way at least. But it wasn't. When we'd worked together I'd seen it – that unyielding determination he'd shown when I was slicing his skin, dipping my fingers into his blood – oh God. Makes me sick to remember it but I won't let myself forget.

Wanted to make it right. One day, some day – and then I ran out of time.

Giles fucked me when I came to him, dust and blood thick on me. Didn't wait to clean me up, just took me and laid me down, got inside me and fucked me until I screamed and cried and came.

Saved me. Another night like that and there'd have been no morning, not for me.

And then Wes came back and you know, I laughed so fucking hard I cried when we heard and Giles laughed right along with me until we were both crying, rocking together and having such a good time cursing him for making us miss him and swearing that if he ever showed up, we'd so kick his ass.

Well, Giles didn't say it exactly like that, but it's what he meant.

And then he did show. All lean and moody and totally fucking hot. Except, somehow, I had a feeling Giles was getting that impression too, which was weird because I'd never got the idea he swung both ways. But then, I never really cared before. Didn't know anything about him except he liked Buffy better.

Maybe he still does. Just 'cause she's dead doesn't mean – and this – Giles and me – would have fucking killed – oh God.


Giles felt her tremble as he touched her and then she suddenly turned and grabbed at Wesley's wrist, pulling him closer. Oh, he'd been about to leave, had he? Too late for that. With a smile he didn't allow to reach his face, Giles wrapped his hand around Wesley's cock, stiff and jutting forward, slick with water, and gave a gentle, inexorable tug. God, how long had it been since he'd felt that telltale hardening in response to his touch? Long enough that he had to let instinct take over, so that as Wesley came inside the circle of their arms, he stopped thinking, stopped caring about losing Faith who'd become so dear to him, annoying brat though she was at times, and focused on Wesley.

They stood linked in a loose circle, Wesley staring at them both with wondering, lost eyes. Faith sighed and slipped her arm around Wesley's neck, pulling him down for a kiss that, from where Giles was standing, was returned after a bare moment of hesitation. Having been on the receiving end of one of Faith's determined, whole-hearted kisses, he hadn't really expected even that much resistance. She kissed with a ferocity that, once withstood, mellowed to sweetness. He'd once spent an hour with her wedged on his knee in his office chair, the sunlight finding red in her dark-brown hair, doing nothing but kiss her face and throat and hands, while she smiled in delight and lay back against his supporting arm, her fingers stroking his face, running over his lips.

Giles let his hand drop away from them both, stepping back, but the kiss ended abruptly and two heads turned towards him.

"Get back here, Giles," Faith said. "Can't do this without you."

"I'm fairly sure you can," Giles said, brushing the water out of his eyes. "But if you insist –"

Wesley's lips were parted, water plastering his hair to his head, darkening it. Kissing him while he still tasted of Faith seemed imperative somehow and Giles, reaching out to gather Faith to them as he did, didn't waste time trying to assess Wesley's reaction.

After Faith's soft lips, glossed and faintly fruit-scented, Wesley's mouth was firm, the scrape of stubble against Giles' relatively smooth chin unexpected but not unwelcome. Wesley kissed him back, his lips moving with an urgency that seemed less about desire and more about reassurance. Giles slid his hand up the long line of Wesley's back and cupped the back of his head, holding him in place, feeling Faith's warm hand on his backside, stroking and teasing. Given the sudden thrust of Wesley's tongue into Giles' mouth and the gasping whimper he gave, Giles guessed Faith's other hand was where his had been a moment earlier, confirming it by shifting closer to Wesley.

Her hand left his backside and then he closed his eyes in an effort to keep calm as she took hold of his cock, and began to work it along with Wesley's, which was so close that Giles felt the tip of his cock bump Wesley's with every squeeze Faith gave his shaft.

Impossible to keep still and neither of them could. Hips jerking forward, desperate for a friction the coursing water was denying him, Giles felt Wesley's arm go around his waist and drop down to his arse, pulling him in closer. Faith's hand vanished and Giles thought he heard her laugh as he and Wesley ground against each other, still kissing.

With a final drag of his teeth along Wesley's lip, Giles broke the kiss. "That's quite enough, Faith."

She reached out and shut off the water, leaving them in a sudden, echoing silence.

"Yeah," she said, pushing back her sopping hair and squeezing it out. "Think you're right, Giles." She tapped a finger against her lip, giving them a look that was frankly appraising. "God, way to spoil a girl." She snuggled between them, smiling up at them. "Ever drawn a diagram for this kind of hook-up, Giles? Don't care how you arrange it as long as I get to play with both of you at the same time."

"Is she always this... single-minded?" Wesley asked Giles with the most relaxed smile he'd shown them.

"I think she's on her best behaviour for you," Giles replied, turning to kiss her and lingering because he couldn't bear to stop. "Her usual strategy is to walk up to me and say, "Hey, Giles, wanna fuck me?"

He got a punch that hurt and gave her a stern look. "Well? I have an excellent memory, Faith and I can assure you –"

"Yeah, whatever." She frowned. "Wes, you're shivering." Shaking her head, she left the shower area and came back with an armful of thick towels. "Here," she said, passing them out. "Dry off a bit."

Wesley stared at the towel in his hand as if he'd forgotten what it was for as she clicked her tongue impatiently. "God, Wes!" Using her own, she rubbed him down with a rough efficiency, finishing with a brisk rumpling of his hair so it stuck up.

Giles finished towelling himself more-or-less dry and grinned, reaching out to smooth Wesley's hair back into place. Faith grabbed all three towels and spread them on the wet floor in front of the wide bench, giving Giles an expectant look.

He nodded approvingly. However this ended up he had a feeling someone would be kneeling down, and he knew from past experience that this wasn't the most comfortable surface for that. Although when he'd been in that position he hadn't noticed it at the time... Faith had a way of distracting him from anything that trivial, and bruised knees were a small price to pay to hear her say his name in a rising whimper as he fucked her with his tongue, tasting every inch of her slick cunt, delving inside her until every breath he took held her scent.

However this ended up... He ran a few possible combinations through his head and felt his cock respond with a throb that made him grit his teeth. Somehow he didn't think this was going to last long, for him at least.

Wesley made it easier by going over to the bench and sitting down as if his legs had given way, staring up at them both as if he were starting to think again. Not a good idea, Giles decided. Giving Faith instructions seemed impossibly – organised somehow – but she didn't really need them. It wasn't quite what he had in mind, he thought, as she finished kissing Wesley back into stupefied, ecstatic submission and turned her back on him, straddling his cock and lowering herself onto it with a pretty ecstatic sigh of her own, but it would do.

As he stood in front of her and watched her lips part for his cock, he decided it would do very well indeed.

And, at first, it did. With Wesley's hands tight on her hips she rose and fell in a slow, relaxed slide, one finger rubbing gently at her clit, her other hand wrapped around the base of Giles' cock. They found a rhythm of sorts and if Giles regretted Wesley was too far away to kiss, well, he could reach Wesley's hand where it lay against Faith and cover it with his own, even as his free hand stroked through Faith's damp hair.

But the urgency Giles felt – all of them felt – meant that it wasn't going to be enough. Faith began to moan around Giles' cock, her tongue a flickering, tormenting goad and he couldn't resist the temptation to move, to push deeper, and Wesley was making sharp, desperate sounds, his hips rising as he tried to speed up.

Giles caught his eye and Wesley grimaced, looking at him appealingly. "Let me –" he said hoarsely. "Please –"

Giles brought his hand to Faith's face, cupping it and easing her off him and then nodded to Wesley. With a low sound of relief, Wesley wrapped his arm around Faith's waist and held her to him as he pushed away from the bench, falling to his knees on the spread towels with her underneath him.

She twisted around – Giles wasn't quite sure how she managed it without letting Wesley's cock slip free, or Wesley getting a knee in the face, but she did – and wrapped her legs around him, raking her nails down his back, leaving Giles to watch the scored skin redden and split in more than one place.

Wesley growled, grabbed for her wrists and pinned them above her head while she laughed up at him, squirming against him in a way that made Giles swallow, remembering –

He fucked her with a graceless, driving force that pulled sounds from her that Giles recognised, and if he hadn't heard them before he didn't think he could have stood to listen, but he had. Often. Taking Wesley's place on the bench, letting his hand take over what Faith had started, he watched them without envy and with deep, unexpected pleasure.

Wesley came before Faith did, head thrown back, lips split in an expression Giles had felt from the inside. He sank against her, panting raggedly, and then pulled out of her, rolling onto his back.

Faith looked surprisingly forgiving, Giles thought, considering the one time that had happened with him, she'd screeched, bitten his shoulder 'til it bled and burst into angry tears. But of course, she still had him to take care of her... He began to appreciate the situation a little more, feeling a wry amusement at how soothing to his ego it was to have Wesley be the one who'd – well, failed was a little harsh perhaps –

"Giles, stop that," Faith ordered. She rolled her eyes and he realised that he was still jerking himself off, although the movements of his hand had slowed when they moved apart. "Can you believe him?" she asked Wesley, who'd managed to struggle to sitting. "Doesn't trust either of us to get the job done."

"Well, that won't do, will it?" Wesley replied, hauling her up to sitting. "Shows a sad lack of confidence in our abilities."

"Not really," Giles said without moving his hand away. "Just wasn't sure how much longer I'd have to wait."

Faith got onto her hands and knees and crawled towards him, covering the few feet in a sinuous, sensual slither, her eyes gleaming, her hair falling over her face. Wesley took in the view of her swaying backside and smiled, standing up and moving in front of Giles.

"Faith, if I promise I'll finish what I started with you to your entire, complete satisfaction –"

"Heard that one before," she muttered, resting her chin against Giles' knee.

"Not from me." Wesley dropped to his knees and reached out, stroking up Giles' cock with the back of his hand. "Please?"

Giles wasn't sure whose permission Wesley was asking, but Faith pouted and moved to kneel at his side on the bench, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him with an insistence that told him how close she was to screaming. He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall. Had it been this complicated when he was younger and indulging in similarly complex hook-ups? His memories failed to provide him with an answer, but as Wesley's tongue lapped against the head of his cock, he stopped searching. Freeing his hand, trapped between her body and his side, he found her clit with his thumb and jabbed three fingers up into the sticky heat of her cunt.

If he stopped to think, he wouldn't be able to do it without faltering, so he didn't. Letting Faith grind against his hand, still kissing him, her mouth avid, he opened his eyes and reached down to caress Wesley's head, guiding it down so that his cock was deep inside Wesley's warm mouth, there to be licked and sucked and -

Faith wailed, tearing her mouth free and Wesley stopped what he was doing, which was a shame as he was doing it very well, and glanced up at her.

"Giles! Need you," she said. "God, I'm gonna die if you don't –"

Wondering if he was ever going to get to come, but feeling absurdly pleased nonetheless, he gave Wesley a shrug and, as Wesley sat back on his heels, pulled Faith into his lap and onto his cock.

"You – fuck, you feel good," she said, with a sincerity he couldn't help appreciating. "Wes, don't have to sit this one out you know..."

Wesley moved into sight, frowning slightly. "Well, I would join in, but you both seem to be managing nicely –"

"Fuck, what do they teach you guys at Watcher school?" she demanded, locking her hands behind Giles' neck and leaning back as she rode him. "Touch me –"

"Selfish, demanding little madam," Giles said without heat. "Behave."

Her lips met his in a brief kiss, her tongue slashing across his impudently. "Make me, Giles. I won't do it unless I have to. Way more fun being bad."

Giles held her in place, her arse resting on his thighs, his cock buried inside her. "She wants touching, Wesley, he said, staring at her. He let one hand come up to pinch her nipple. "Here maybe, with your hand, or your mouth. Would you like that, Faith? Wesley sucking on your nipples while I fuck you?"

"As plans go, it's got my vote."

"I thought it might, but it's not his only option, now is it?"

"Giles –" she began. Always so quick, always.

"Swearing. Three times, Faith. While we were still officially training. You know my rules."

She leaned in close, at the cost of an inch of his cock. "Heat of the moment, Giles. Overcome what with seeing Wesley and all." Wesley made a sound that was suspiciously like a snort. "Gonna let me off, just this once?"

"In case you're wondering, Wesley," Giles said, without taking his eyes off her. "She's not averse to getting spanked for misbehaving – not at all. She's just well aware that it's rarely followed by me fucking her. I don't believe in rewarding deliberate disobedience."

"I quite agree," Wesley said, letting his hand come to rest against Faith's backside. Giles spared him a glance and grinned. Wesley was frowning thoughtfully, clearly working something out. "However, one could argue that my inclusion in the team renders the previous rules null and void. I'm sure that one will be reinstated as it stands, but in the meantime, perhaps -?"

"Wes, you talk too much, but I'll forgive you just this once," she said. Her tongue ran over her full lower lip and she gave Giles a challenging grin. "Did he convince you, Giles? I take it like a good Slayer should, but you don't make me wait?"

"Certainly," Giles said agreeably. "But I can't help feeling... Wesley? Two of us should mean more than double the fun..."

"How many does she get per word?" Wesley asked, his voice rough. Giles glanced down and saw, with a faint pang of envy that Wesley was hard again already.

"It depends. No less than one, obviously; no more than four. Unless she moves."

"Twelve..." Wesley mused as Faith's eyes widened indignantly. "Times two... Yes, that should do nicely..."

His hand lifted and came down hard. "But I think Giles has waited long enough, Faith. I'm touching you now. Get on with it."

Giles groaned as Wesley's hand belaboured Faith's arse, feeling the reverberations of each blow throughout his body, as though it were his skin being struck. Wesley was kneeling up beside Faith, one hand hard on Giles' thigh, squeezing it in time with the flurry of slaps he was delivering, matching them to Faith's movements so each one landed as she sank back down.

He didn't think Faith even felt the last half-dozen. Never exactly silent when she came, she was moaning out a heartfelt repetition of, "God... yes...God... oh..." that was eloquent enough as a guide to her feelings, even though the feel of her clenching around him convulsively as he relented enough to capture her breast in his hand, already told him how close she was to coming.

Then Wesley gave her the final smack and his hand left Giles' leg to rub hard at her clit.

He hadn't thought she could move any faster, grind against him any harder. His cock was already throbbing, his balls tightening, but as she flung out one arm to encircle Wesley's shoulders, her other still hooked around Giles' neck, she found the perfect angle to slam down against him, taking him in so deeply that he couldn't have said which of them started to come first and didn't care. They were coming together, Wesley touching them, anchoring them and as Giles pulled her to him, cradling her against his chest, he turned his head for Wesley's kiss.

"Told you this would work," Faith said with a shade too much smugness to her voice.

"It's off to a good start," Giles agreed. He gave Wes a rueful look. "This isn't always how we end a training session. Sometimes we do just shower."


Faith laughed. "I know. Beats me too. I mean, there I am, all soapy and wet and Giles just doesn't take advantage the way a gentleman should."

Giles smiled at her. "Perhaps Wesley will be more susceptible to your charms," he said mildly.

"Or yours," Wesley said, a faint flush rising in his thin face. "Giles –"

"Later," said Faith, standing up and going over to turn the shower on again. "In a bed. Ours is a big one, Wes. You'll like it. And I get to watch. New rule."

The sound of water covered any protest. Or possibly there was nothing to cover.


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