The Essential Spike - 4

Spike woke with a slight headache and a muzzy feeling behind his eyes. Neither was as bad as the intense agony in his head for the last twelve hours, so he turned over, pleased with life. That he was naked registered first. That he was sticky occurred to him second. That he had lain and wanked off in front of Rupert Giles hit him third and rather took away all other thoughts for a while. Kissing. Licking. Oh, God, turning over and exposing himself. Spike covered his eyes with his arm. Fuck no, Giles' hand being forced onto him. He curled into a tiny ball. Bloody hell, had he given himself one of his special slow hand jobs with Giles kneeling along side him? Oh, fuck! The git had been drawing him. Spike remembered Giles actually sketching him masturbating. He sprung up and searched the drawers; he looked under the bed, cursing. Nothing. It was gone. He flung himself down once more, groaned, and considered Brazil as the best alternative. When things could not seem worse, he remembered his aim. Oh shit… had he put his cum on Giles' face? It seemed inconceivable. He'd hardly ever touched the watcher in the six years he known him, but he'd lain there, unconcerned, and cummed him… and then what? Spike sat up and looked down, puzzled. He sniffed suspiciously then lay down grinning. He had fallen asleep after his orgasm. He remembered that… shoot and sleep. So why… and this was a reasonable question he thought… why was he covered in human cum? Why, more specifically, was his cock covered in human cum? It was a satisfying end to his reflections. He'd been stoned… what was Rupert bloody Giles' excuse?

He couldn't find his clothes and seemed to remember another very pleasant vampire wearing them while they had a picnic, so he borrowed some of Giles' stuff. He found a reasonable, un-square looking pair of jeans and an old faded denim shirt. Grinning at their effect on him, Spike made his way downstairs. Giles was on the telephone and turned his back when Spike appeared, finishing off his conversation in a hushed and hurried voice.

'Hello.'

Giles only nodded and replaced the handset.

'So…. '

'Recovered?'

Spike hopped up onto the counter. 'Oh yeah… always do, vampire constitutions and all that.' Spike peered suspiciously at the microwave as if having a flashback to something but then shrugged cheerfully.

'Do you remember anything at all?' Giles' voice was quietly amused, but Spike did not miss an underlying hint of concern.

'Everything. Up to when I fell asleep that is…. '

'Ah. And you're not… embarrassed.'

'Are you?'

'Well, I'm not going to publish the incident, no.'

'Pity, you could illustrate it an' all, couldn't you?'

Giles blushed, and Spike laughed. 'Never no mind, watcher. You can blot your copy book over me any time you like.'

Giles looked up sharply. It was a familiar enough saying and seemed to relate only to his sketching, but he wasn't so sure Spike didn't have another more subtle meaning. He studied Spike's look until the vampire looked away, amused. Giles coughed lightly, feeling that although it had been Spike that had got stoned, Spike that had almost destroyed his kitchen, and Spike that had blatantly masturbated in front of him, he was now the guilty one. He huffed and put the kettle on, ignoring the stare he felt Spike giving him behind his back. When the tea was made, Giles handed Spike a cup and said, 'Sit down. I have something to tell you.'

Spike raised one eyebrow. 'No going down on one knee?'

'Shut up, Spike. I have spent the last two hours scraping something I don't even want to attempt to identify off my microwave; I am in no mood for your strange sense of humour. Sit down, shut up and listen for once.'

Still chuckling, Spike did as Giles bid and sprawled on the couch, looking relaxed and pleased with himself.

Giles did not mince his words. 'I've found your dog.'

Spike's demeanour changed in an instant. He jumped up, alert and apprehensive. 'Where?'

'Sit down. It's not as easy as that. It appears you were right after all; Fang is a vampire hell hound.'

'What! I mean… bloody hell.'

'Quite.'

'How the fuck did you find 'im… how did you find that out?'

'It wasn't too difficult. I questioned your friend with the odd skin contours; he led me to a hideous bar where I discovered a Xol demon that eventually admitted he had stolen the puppy - and are hellhounds offspring called puppies?'

'Dunno… didn't know they still existed… err… I mean… so where is he?'

'Ah, well, that's the problem. He's been kidnapped… dognapped….'

'Fuck! Who? Bleedin' vampires… jesus, I hate fucking vampires… who's got 'im? I'll kill 'em.'

'You can't; they're human. He's been taken by some renegade watchers, I'm afraid.'

Spike giggled from a nervous release of tension. 'Renegade watchers… you are fucking pulling my dick ain't you?'

'No, I save that for when you are stoned apparently.'

It was said. Slipped into a conversation that took almost all of Spike's attention, Giles tested the vampire's reactions to their games. Spike turned to him with an unreadable expression. 'Or for when I'm asleep.'

'Ah. Indeed… mine that is, not yours.'

Spike tapped his nose. 'I'm a vampire, Giles.'

'Yes, I had forgotten.'

Spike tipped his head back at this admission. He studied Giles intently. After a moment, he gave a small nod, came over to Giles' chair, and crouched down in front of him. 'No more games, watcher. When this is over, I will have you. You want me; I want you.' He stood up gracefully and went back to his place on the couch. 'So, how we gonna get him back?'

Reeling from Spike's words, it took all of Giles' considerable strength of character to answer with any degree of nonchalance. 'We are not going to do anything, Spike. These people are dedicated, elite, vampire hunters. There may be one watcher leading them, but the rank and file will be ordinary folk whose lives have taken an extraordinary path. Seeing friends or relatives killed by vampires can drive some people to a killing frenzy that they can't then escape from. So no, Spike, you cannot come, too.'

Spike got up and paced restlessly. Giles watched the way his old clothes hardly clung to Spike's slim body, how hard he looked under them, how… desirable. 'What the hell do they want a vampire hellhound for? They're vampire dogs… they kill humans - properly trained, course.'

'Exactly, I assume they use them to detect and identify vampires….'

'We're hardly difficult to spot, are we?'

'Even Buffy didn't recognise Angel for what he was for many months.'

Spike flung himself back on the couch, distractedly running a hand through his hair. 'Yeah, well, most of us ain't thinking with our brains when we look at Angel, are we?' As if realising he'd made some fundamentally incriminating confession, Spike went back on the attack, trying to ignore Giles' amused looked of wonder. 'Look, Xol demons are fucking liars… known for it throughout the demon world… how'd ya know he wasn't just yanking your chain?'

'I thought of that. I had Willow test some of the… err… biological substance he deposited on my tiles the other night. Definitely demon extraction.'

'All right. He is - so let's go get 'im!'

'No! Spike, I've just told you; these people are fanatics. I've heard - and I don't actually believe this myself - I've heard they have adopted some very black practices. They keep captured vampires for training purposes, torturing them until they become too damaged to fight, and then they stake them. There is absolutely no way are you getting involved in this. I only told you so you do NOT come looking for me tonight when I go to meet them.'

'Okay.'

'Uh huh. And that okay is a "I'll wait until the old geezer leaves and go anyway" sort of okay, is it?'

'No. It's an "I understand completely, and I'll stay here like a good little boy" sort of okay. But Giles….' Spike looked down and played with his thumb ring.

'What, Spike?'

'These fuckers sound dangerous, and I've got plans for you later… can't do ya if you're dead, mate. Well, I could 'suppose - if you got turned - but rather have you warm and pliant, 'k?'

Giles got up and, as he passed Spike, he leant over and pulled his face into a kiss. He opened up Spike's mouth quite as easily and effectively as Spike had done with his. He sank to his knees and wrapped his hands around Spike's head, urging him further into the kiss. Spike slid off the couch, taken unaware by this unexpected passion. They pulled apart for a moment, looked into each other's eyes and knew, beyond a doubt, that they were seconds away from falling to the floor and taking each other. Giles nodded, acknowledging the understanding between them. 'Tonight, Spike. When I come back… and be assured, I will be coming back.' He smiled, got to his feet, grabbed a coat, and left. Spike remained behind, aroused and unsatisfied.

Giles made his way cautiously into the back room of the magic shop. Although it was locked, he did not put it past the renegades to get there early and gain some advantage over him. He did not anticipate the exchange going badly, but you never knew with fanatics. He wanted the dog; they wanted some unique research on the black arts that he was reputed to hold. He sat on the couch and waited, thinking back over the past forty-eight hours. When had curious detachment been replaced by searing need? Had it been the sketching that had brought him to this almost uncontrollable urge to return to his apartment and take Spike on the floor? Had it been the intense activities on the bed? Or had it been Spike's abrupt ending of the game, and his heartfelt admission that he wanted this weak, ageing, human body. Being wanted was an intense aphrodisiac. That something so inherently beautiful as Spike wanted him overwhelmed Giles. How he wanted to tangle and writhe with those cool limbs.

'Well, well, Ripper!' Lost in his thoughts of the slim vampire, Giles had not heard the ex-watcher enter by the back door. Slowly, he came into the light, followed by a number of rough, tense-looking young men and women.

Giles stood up, surprised. 'St John? What are you doing involved with this riff raff? Hardly your style, I'd have thought.' The man called St John came closer and put out his hand. Giles took it and found himself being pulled into a fond embrace. He attempted to relax into it, but felt tension radiating off his old council colleague.

'I could ask the same of you, Ripper. Why are you dealing for the return of a hellhound? Hardly watcher business, is it?'

Giles avoided a direct answer. 'Well, where is it then?'

'It's not here, obviously… not until we have the research we want. But we thought we'd bring this to show you.' St John turned and clicked his fingers, and one of the young men went back out into the night and returned with a dog on a lead…. a dog in the loosest possible terms. Giles eyed his first grown hellhound warily. He had to admit it was beautiful. It reminded him of an artic wolf. It had a similar body shape and blue eyes, but this creature was at least twice the size, more like a deerhound and, like that animal, could easily bring a human down in the chase. The hound seemed docile enough with the humans and lay down alongside the wall bars contentedly.

'Beautiful, isn't he? He'll sense a vampire from over a hundred metres… always wanting to return to his natural masters. He unknowingly gives them away to us and we… .' St John made a stabbing motion with his fist, and Giles cocked an eyebrow at him.

'So, how do we do this swap then?'

'What, Ripper, no time for small talk? How long has it been? Twenty years?'

'Longer. And it's not Ripper. It's Giles. Just Giles.'

'Shame. I always thought that name so appropriate… but then I sort of enjoyed it first hand, didn't I?' The younger humans spread themselves restlessly around the room, examining the weapons and chatting quietly among themselves. Giles sat back down on the couch, and St John perched on the arm, lighting a cigar. Giles studied him. It had been twenty-two years, and he remembered it all as if it had been yesterday. The experimentation, the power, the pain, and the feelings that they had been the masters of the universe… these things you did not forget… but this man in front of him was not the vital young man with the body of a Greek God he had followed down dark paths. He was a slightly balding, slightly overweight, middle-aged man who seemed to have replaced passion with fanaticism.

Giles was about to speak when the hound sat up. The single movement sent a chill down Giles' spine. When the dog's eyes glowed red, Giles actually shook himself to rid the eerie feeling from his own body. Everyone turned to look at the dog. One young man said with a quiet, intense delight. 'Vampire!'

St John turned to him. 'Take two others, and hunt it down. Don't capture it; kill it.'

Giles felt his stomach contract in fear. Could he have been this stupid? Could Spike really have disobeyed him and followed him here? Of course he could. Giles knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the dog was sensing Spike. He laid a hand frantically on St John's arm, realised his mistake, and turned the movement into casual, nonchalant interest.

'Oh, if it looks like a young, blond haired man… it's mine… I'd appreciate it if you didn't kill it. It's taken me a year to get it how I want.'

'Ripper? You delight me! You never liked my ideas about crash dummies.'

'Yes, well, I have seen so many vampires now, I see more merit in your ideas, although a personal training vampire hardly equates to your idea of selling them for crash dummies!'

'A personal one, though? What fun! We go through too many to remember one from the other.' He nodded at the three young men who had gathered by the door. 'Fetch it, and bring it here.'

Giles could do nothing but pray that it was any stray vampire that happed to be passing. He did not want to play out this difficult negotiation with the added complication of Spike's presence. He heard him before he saw him - colourful, outraged swearing preceded the four figures into the room. Two of the men had Spike's arms bent up behind his back, the other one held a sort or rigid noose around his neck. Giles saw it was a dogcatchers' ring.

Spike was brought into the centre of the room and forced, swearing, onto his knees. St John got up and tipped Spike's chin up, studying his face with interest. 'I take it this is the one you were referring to?'

Giles came over and took a handful of Spike's hair, forcing him to look up. He locked eyes with the familiar vampire and prayed that their games would have some use now. Keeping Spike's eye contact, he said with feigned nonchalance. 'It certainly is. This is Spike… aka William the Bloody. I assume you've heard of it? It's been my training vampire for nearly two years, and I would sincerely appreciate it if neither you, nor your… people… staked it.'

Spike held Giles' eye contact, and Giles saw the slightest of nods. He'd got the new game. Giles' relief was short-lived. A quiet voice said, 'He's lying.'

Both St John and Giles looked at the young man still holding the noose around Spike's neck. St John laughed lightly. 'You'd do well, Peter, not to question Ripper on his veracity. I seem to remember that always upset him a little, and you do not - let me repeat - do not want to upset Ripper.'

'This thing was loose in the basement. There was no sign of restraint, and it was unguarded and had access to the sewers. It is not captive.' The young man called Peter cocked his head on one side and gave Giles a challenging look. St John did the same, and Giles stalled for time by slowly removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. Before either man could react, he put a crashing blow on Peter's face, and the young man fell, unconscious.

Giles smiled at his old colleague. 'They don't make them like they did in our day, do they?'

St John eyed his foot soldier thoughtfully. 'I hope you have a good explanation for that, Giles?'

Giles smiled, released the noose from around Spike's neck, and led him to the couch. 'Sit down.' Spike did as Giles requested without protest.

Giles turned back to face the accusatory and threatening eyes. 'It's chipped. It can't hurt humans, so I leave it to wander about as it chooses. It can't go far; it's hated in the demon world, and a prey to any lout on a Saturday night binge looking for some action.'

'Chipped?'

'Yes, I had it neutered… so it would be safe. The experiment's worked rather well, and I'm thinking of copyrighting the idea… it's a lot less exhausting than staking them, that's for sure… and they can make rather… pretty pets.'

St John nodded sagely to this idea, and Giles only hoped that no one would see through his blatant lie. No such luck. The older watcher looked up with hard, cold eyes. 'So, your training demon can't hurt humans, Giles? Rather a contradiction in terms, isn't it? Not much of an opponent, if it can't strike back.'

Giles paused, look down deep into his character, drew on depths he rarely had to plummet, and looked back up, as if unconcerned at the desperate plight Spike was now in. 'Ah… but you are missing the point, St John. It is here to train us in stoicism. If we don't show pain, its chip doesn't work. It hits my Slayer; she learns not to show pain. She is magnificent now.'

St John gave a low whistle. 'A natural barometer for human courage? Wonderful. Can I try it out?'

Giles did not hesitate. 'Of course, be my guest.'

Spike got warily to his feet. 'Fuck off.'

St John laughed. 'You let it speak, how droll, and Giles… English too! I'm touched.' He swung a low punch at Spike who hardly seemed to feel the blow. Spike glanced at Giles, unsure what he was being asked to do. Giles nodded fractionally at him, so Spike punched the human… not very hard, but sure he would collapse in agony anyway. St John showed no reaction to the blow… not a flicker of emotion crossed his face, until a grin spread from ear to ear. 'Interesting. Hit harder, vampire. I want to see how well this chip works.' Never one to be subtle with such an invitation, and thinking he may as well get hung for a humungous sheep as for a smidgen of a lamb, Spike swung his best punch into the human's nose. St John collapsed in pain, joined shortly after by Spike. The others moved in closer in a threatening manner, but the kneeling human waved them off and stood up, his nose bleeding.

Giles looked scornfully at him. 'My Slayer would have withstood that pain. It can never make her flinch these days. Good, hey?'

St John nodded with respect at Giles. 'I am truly impressed, Ripper. This is an excellent training aid. So… I think I've changed my mind about the terms of our deal. The hound for the vampire - what do you say?'

Giles continued his flawless performance and laughed. He could not quite take his anxious thoughts off the prone Spike, but he answered with a credible amount of coolness. 'I'm only getting the bloody dog to help me keep track of that thing on the floor: no vampire, no need for dog! Now, come on, let's do this trade.'

St John smiled, nodded at a couple of his minions, and they went over to pull Peter to his feet. 'Where is the book, Giles?'

'In my apartment; on the mantel.'

The two young men left, carrying Peter limply between them, and Giles pulled Spike to his feet, sitting him back on the couch. St John stood dabbing at his nose. The waiting was tense. Giles sat down next to Spike, and when St John wandered over to speak to one of the remaining gang, he heard a quiet, 'I'm sorry,' from the vampire.

He hissed back. 'You will be.'

He sensed Spike smiling and felt Spike pressing his thigh against him. 'Nah, you love it… playing these games….'

I'd prefer it if our lives weren't in imminent danger of ending, Spike.'

'We've got away with it… easy.'

'Don't underestimate St John, Spike, or the fanaticism of these young people.'

'I don't. But I don't underestimate you either, Ripper.'

Their quiet conversation was interrupted when the humans returned empty handed except for a folder in Peter's hand. He gave it to his boss with a triumphant, spiteful look at Giles. Giles' bowels contracted in fear. St John studied the contents of the folder, turning the pages around looking at them from different angles. He wandered back to the couch and stood looking speculatively at Spike, then down at the paper in his hand. It unnerved Spike for he did not recognise the folder. 'What? Bleedin' hell, what?'

'Quite right, vampire, what indeed? What are you doing with these, Giles? Is this how it is with you and your so-called training vampire?' St John held up the sketch of Spike naked on the couch and let it drop into Giles' lap. Spike picked it up and looked at it for the first time. He was impressed, and the drawing was quite good, too. He sniggered and looked between the two humans. He felt things had taken a turn for the worse, but there was little he could do to turn it back.

Giles was still cool, but it was becoming less and less easy to maintain his lie. He stretched lazily back on the couch and gave a small shake of his head. 'Have you actually looked at him? What do you expect? Come on, St John… you know my little… peccadilloes. I'm hardly going to pass up an opportunity like this, am I?' He placed a hand on Spike's knee. Spike moved his leg away, and Giles turned and punched him in the face. It was not an especially hard blow, but Spike curled up, feigning more pain than he felt. St John grunted, satisfied.

Suddenly the figure of the young man, Peter, loomed behind him. 'He's still fooling you, boss. Let's test him, hey?' He fetched a whip from one of the others, and before Giles could protest, Spike was seized, and his wrists were tied together with belts on the wall bars.

He twisted around to face the room; Peter went up to him and held him by the jaw. He ran a stake almost seductively up Spike's body from his thigh to his heart. 'I think he's lying, vampire. I think there's something going on here… are you controlling him somehow? Is he afraid of you? What is it, demon?'

Spike answered him by producing an impressive amount of spit and hurling it accurately in the menacing face. He grinned and cocked his scarred eyebrow. Peter broke Spike's jaw with his first blow, with his second he cracked a rib, but Spike brought up his knee and thumped it into the young man's balls. Peter didn't (or couldn't) hide the pain, and Spike arched back in agony, as his attacker fell to his knees. He glared up at Spike and picked up the discarded stake. Giles shook off St John's restraining hands and grabbed the young man's arm. He looked into the faces of the assembled company and knew he was losing it… knew that they did not believe him any more. He snatched up the whip and ran it through his fingers, separating the strands. 'Don't stake him. Let me punish him properly, hey?'

He looked at Spike and said icily 'Turn around.'

Spike let fly a stream of obscenities, but Giles only shrugged. 'Fine,' and he let the strands fly over Spike's belly. Spike howled in outrage, so Giles flailed him across his groin. Spike hissed, but turned his back, as he had been ordered. Giles now went up to him and, turning to see the humans' reactions, ripped Spike's tee shirt down the back and tore off the two halves. As he leant around Spike to free the pieces on his arms, he ran one finger over Spike's chest and murmured as quietly as the sound of his digit on the cool skin. 'Forgive me.' Giles felt Spike's head tip to one side fractionally to press against his arm. It was enough. They understood each other. Both knew they were now playing a far more deadly game than they had anticipated.

Giles turned away a little unsteadily and went back to his position, wiping one piece of Spike's tee shirt over the strands of the whip. When his back was to Spike, he heard another ripping sound and turned to find Peter tearing Spike's jeans off, too. Spike was left naked and hanging from the leather straps around his wrists. Spike hid his face against his arm, and the assembled humans laughed, delighted at the thought that the vampire was humiliated by his nakedness. 'Come on, Ripper. Show us what you're made of.'

Giles didn't hesitate. He brought the whip down across Spike's shoulders then stopped to see the result of the lash. The crimson streak emerged and blossomed gradually. It wasn't a colour he'd have picked for Spike, but Giles couldn't deny its attraction. Spike made a picture of stark contrasts, and Giles continued to add brilliant highlights to the pale figure, stroke after stroke across the body that he had studied so intently… across the body he had caressed with his eyes and his hands and his tongue. The whip did the caressing for him now. It lay on Spike's skin finding sensitive places, making Spike groan, and exploring his muscles and his nerves. To every stroke on Spike's skin, Giles grew harder. Every shade, every highlight connected him to the vampire. He shed his detachment as he shed Spike's blood. The whip joined them in an intimate connection of pain and arousal. Giles used all his skill on Spike. He delineated every contour of the familiar body with blood-red lines. He ripped Spike apart, and he swelled to the ripping.

The humans gradually started to leave, some disturbed by what they were witnessing, some bored, but some clearly aroused, and they slunk away to more private places. St John seemed to fit into this category. He had stationed himself to one side of Spike and appeared to be fixated on the twisting body. He grew visibly hot and flustered and was the last to leave, turning and almost running from the room.

Finally alone, Giles dropped the whip and sank to his knees. He put his forehead to the floor, unable to look at the body hanging from the wall bars. Other than a few groans, Spike had not made a sound the entire time of his torture. His voice now, in the ensuing silence, was shockingly loud, even though he spoke with the smallest of croaks. 'Giles.…'

Giles looked up and got to his feet. He went over to Spike and pressed against him slightly as he stretched up to undo the tight leather bindings. Spike groaned and pushed back against him, and his bleeding backside rubbed against Giles' erection. Giles groaned, making to move away, but Spike's voice held him close. 'Giles… please. Now.'

Giles caught Spike's face and turned him slightly. He saw what St John had been watching with such avid fascination. Spike was painfully erect, his penis standing hard against his belly, the tip exposed and weeping with a steady stream of precum leaking out and mixing with blood to form a trickle of pink. Spike's eyes were closed, but he pushed back once more against Giles. His voice was low and urgent; there was no pretence at all: he was laid bare, his plea as raw as his body. 'Take me, Giles, now… before I change my mind.'

Giles laid his forehead briefly on Spike's shoulder. He pressed him into the wall bars and ran his hands up Spike's back through the blood. They slipped, and he fell harder against him. His erection drained the blood from his brain; he felt light headed from the physical exertion. He fumbled with his zip and let all rational thought desert him. When his erection sprang into the cool air, Giles hissed and took it reverently in both hands. He rubbed the tip against the blood that covered Spike's cheeks, running it up and down the lash lines. Spike groaned and spread his legs wider. Giles pulled back his foreskin and placed the tip of his cock to the smeared blood. He rolled it around, as if trying to erase the marks he had unwillingly put on Spike's body. The blood only coated him, too. Giles slid a hand around Spike's waist and found the root of his cock. He held it tightly, rubbing into the soft hair, and slipping two fingers down to press and stimulate Spike's balls. Spike groaned again and pushed back, trapping Giles' erection between them. With his free hand, Giles explored for the entrance that Spike had so freely offered him. It was cool to the touch, slick with blood, and parted easily to the pressure of one insistent finger. Just inside, Giles paused and put his face into Spike's neck. He kissed into the damp blond hairline and increased the stimulation on Spike's cock. 'I don't understand this. Why?'

Giles' plea was heartfelt, and Spike heard the bewilderment evident in the voice. He shifted slightly so he could feel the penetration of Giles' finger more and tipped his head back to rub against Giles' face. 'Cus I'm a vampire. You forgot it… and that's… that was everything. I won't forget that, pet. But this is me, too, and I want you to see it. I want to share it with you, with a human, for the first time. I swell to the pain, watcher. I feed on the agony… so, share it with me?'

Giles started to move the finger in Spike's hole. He hooked it against the inner ring and pulled and stretched. Spike's moaning sent them both into a frenzy of need. Giles kicked Spike's legs even further apart, and then took his hand off Spike's cock to lift one of his thighs. Spike responded and hooked his foot over a wall bar, stretching his cheeks apart. Giles took his own erection once more and, looking down as if to imprint the image in his mind, he pressed the tip against the entrance he was stretching and stimulating with his finger. As he eased his cock in, he withdrew his finger - the contrasting directions of friction making Spike writhe in his restraints. Giles' smooth knob disappeared inside the vampire, leaving only its glistening shaft in the chill air. He rubbed his hands once more over Spike's rapidly healing back and coated the remaining column with cool, slick blood. Giles put his arms under Spike's and grasped the wall bars, pulling them in tightly. Inch by inch, he eased fully into the tight channel. Every movement dragged his foreskin back more deliciously, rolling it up against the rim of his swollen tip. Stretched as he was, Spike's backside was almost flat, and Giles was able to embed fully until his wiry curls brushed the bleeding skin. It only took slight movement to rub Spike's cock against the wooden bars, so Giles thrust in a few times to make him moan some more.

'Fuck, Giles, hold me, too….'

Giles tipped his head back at the delectable moment and grinned. 'I thought I told you to stay put tonight.'

Spike stilled noticeably in his restraints. He twisted to cast a glance over his shoulder. 'This is a joke, right? You fucking beat me half to death, and now you're eight inches up me arse, and you want to play friggin' mind games? Bring me off, watcher, or you'll be sorry.'

Giles nuzzled once more into Spike's hair. 'What are you going to do, Spike? Lick me to death?' The nervous tension of the last few hours broke out of Giles in a high-pitched giggle. He felt himself swell to his own power. He tried a few experimental thrusts, but held them both far enough away from the wall bars that Spike's cock had no contact at all.

'Nooo!' Spike furiously tried to lower his leg to prevent some of Giles' pleasure, but Giles only hooked one arm under it and held on to the bars just the same. Spike was trapped, one leg raised, his whole body stretched and vulnerable to Giles' desire. Giles giggled once more and began to moan appreciatively as he started long, slow enjoyment of Spike's tight passage. He propped his chin on Spike's shoulder and peered down at the vampire's erection.

'That looks rather painful, Spike. Is it?'

Spike made to fling his head back to butt Giles off, but thought better of it at the last moment. He hung his head and, for a moment, Giles thought the game had gone sour.

Suddenly, Spike started to laugh. He lifted his head and tipped it softly against Giles. 'You win, watcher. Now just fuck me, will you?'

Giles was happy to oblige. Participating now, Spike started to writhe and thrust back against Giles' penetration. At every hard contact with Spike's cheeks, Giles felt his balls contract and swell more. The friction on his cock from Spike's soft, cool walls was incredible: he'd never felt stimulation like it. He wanted it to last; he wanted to draw out the pleasure from this slim, intoxicating body. Spike seemed to sense his delight, for he began low, erotic encouragement. When Giles slammed in particularly hard, Spike hissed delightedly, 'Yeah.' As Giles pulled out until the red circumference of his knob was just visible stretching Spike's hole, Spike groaned out a vehement 'Fuck.' 'Yeah' and 'fuck' began to get closer together as Giles lost himself to the intensity of his imminent orgasm. It started in the small of his back: a tingle that grew and swelled his balls. It was hot: it seared him in its demand for release. He took his hands off the bars and gripped Spike's hips, digging his fingers painfully into the hollows he had found so difficult to capture on paper. Unbelievably, Spike took his whole weight on his wrists and lifted his other leg to hook that foot on the bars as well. He sank down onto Giles' cock so the thrusting had even more depth. It finished Giles off. His orgasm crashed out of him in a spurt of hot sperm that spattered against Spike's cool walls. Giles stopped thrusting and jerked himself into Spike, his legs shuddering at the effort of taking Spike's weight. Awash with cum, Spike became slippery, and Giles revelled in the feel of the sopping channel. With a final spasm, he emptied a last shot of cum into Spike, felt his legs buckle, and fell to his knees. He looked up at the stretched, displayed vampire, glistening and slick from blood and from the cum draining out of him, and watched with awe as Spike removed his feet from the bars, hung for a moment with his legs outstretched, and then lowered them gracefully and easily to the floor.

Spike twisted around in his bindings and looked down at Giles. He twitched up his eyebrow. Giles gave a tiny, rueful laugh. On his knees, Spike's cock was so close to Giles' mouth as to make the gap, no gap at all. Spike twitched his eyebrow again and thrust forward slightly, so his penis swayed against Giles' lips.

'Come on, watcher, do the decent, hey?'

Giles allowed the tip of his tongue to poke out and just catch the end of Spike's cock, and the desperate vampire groaned and writhed, swearing and pleading. Giles withdrew his tongue and flicked it around his mouth, tasting Spike's precum. Suddenly, he shifted forwards on his knees and swallowed the soft, spongy knob of the offered cock. Spike let out a high-pitched sound of relief and lifted both legs, wrapping them tightly around Giles' neck. Giles rolled the cool, slightly salty knob around in his mouth, slipping his tongue under Spike's foreskin, and allowing his teeth to graze over the rim. He put his hands to Spike's backside to pull him closer, and his fingers parted Spike's cheeks. His hole was still slick with sperm and blood, and Giles pushed the middle finger of each hand in and pulled and probed the soft flesh. Spike tried to ride more into Giles' mouth; Giles resisted for a brief moment but let the cockhead finally graze his throat. Out of practice, he started to gag; but his discomfort was short-lived, for he felt Spike's entire body shudder with the force of a powerful, pain-induced orgasm that filled his mouth, sent cum draining down his throat and spilling from his lips. He pushed Spike back slightly so he had just the tip of the spouting cock between his lips and sucked hard on the tiny slit. Spike keened a high note of intense satisfaction at this and continued to pump cum into Giles' mouth.

Eventually, Spike's orgasm faded to dull, blissful throbbing in his balls and a light twitching up and down his penis. He lowered his legs and wriggled off Giles' fingers with a slight laugh. With no further comment, Giles stood and, using one of his swords, slashed Spike free. Spike looked down, rubbing at his traumatised wrists but was pulled up as Giles seized his face. No soft opening of mouths this time - this was raw and urgent need. Spike could taste his own cum coating the walls of Giles' mouth and spilling out over his chin. He kissed back urgently and felt himself starting to swell again: the taste of the cum, the smell of the blood, the feel of Giles' warm body pressed to his - it was all overwhelming. Suddenly, Giles pulled away and forced Spike's gaze to his. 'Will you obey me now?'

Before Spike could reply to this strange question, Giles dragged him over to a cabinet and thrust an old set of training sweats at him. 'Go. Don't go to your crypt or my place. Go to a demon place... anywhere you will be safe until this is over... but just go, Spike. Please.'

'What about me dog?'

Giles looked down for a moment then caught Spike's eye once again. 'They won't exchange him, Spike, I never expected them to. Do you think I would trust a watcher to keep his word?' He saw Spike's disappointment and his futile attempt to hide that human emotion. 'Buffy and Xander are rescuing it while I keep the gang here. Anya can sense it... but I've failed my part of the plan to keep them all here and together.'

'Fuck... I failed it, you mean.'

'Yes, all right, you did... but....' It was Giles' turn to look down, embarrassed.

'Hey, watcher....' Spike tipped Giles' chin up and placed a soft kiss on his lips. He took the sweats and dressed, grimacing at the faintly unpleasant smell and odd look. 'I'm going. Play it out for me, hey?' One last teasing kiss and Spike left.