Eternity's Bright Promise - 7
It was still dark when Giles woke, but the light was already making streaky inroads in the sky. They were completely entwined. He could feel nothing but vampire all over his skin, and the places where they joined were exquisite. Spike's face was buried somewhere against Giles' chest under one arm. His cool legs were flung over Giles, and his arms were loosely wrapped around the warm, human chest.
Giles cursed suddenly. He needed to pee desperately. It was one of the few things that tempted him about sharing Spike's eternity: never having to leave a warm bed to pee.
He gently disentangled himself, cursing once more when Spike rolled over and away from him, spread-eagling himself on the other side of the bed. He could have lain there and looked at that slim body for hours, but his bladder screamed at him, so he stomped angrily to the bathroom. Everything then infuriated him: the lights too bright; his stream too loud against the porcelain and water, and the flush too harsh. He glanced at his watch: five. Usually when he woke at this hour, he made tea and took advantage of the quiet hours to catch up on research or news from home. He paused in the open doorway on his way downstairs. Spike's arm hung off the bed; his feet stuck out from the sheet.
Giles felt something move deep in his core. He tried neither to rationalise it nor understand it; he just accepted it. Getting up to pee was sublime, for now he had the delicious pleasure of sliding back into the bed with Spike. He took his time, drawing out the enjoyment. His spot still warm; the sheets were rumpled. Everything was musty and smelt of sleep and personal spaces. He stretched, waited for a moment, and then stretched out a hand resting it gently on the small of the vampire's back. Spike groaned faintly and rolled back into very welcoming arms.
Giles sighed: he could genuinely not remember ever feeling so content. He bent his head and once more kissed deeply into Spike's hair. He determined to stay awake and just enjoy the cool feel of Spike's body, but the warmth and contentment took their toll, and he faded into a light doze not waking again until he felt something tickling over his lips. He opened his eyes, and was assailed by the smell of strong coffee and was that… bacon? A cool finger trickled over his lips. Smiling, he bit it, chuckling at the annoyed 'oi' from somewhere behind him. Giles sat up. Spike was sitting cross-legged on the bed, a pot of freshly brewed coffee and a plate of bacon on a tray between them. Spike twitched up his eyebrow and poured some coffee. 'Black, yeah?' Giles nodded, dumbfounded, and took the cup. 'Bacon? 'S all I could find and seein' it's English… seemed kinda appropriate.
'I get it over the Net.' Giles couldn't get his brain to function any better than that terse reply. Spike smiled, clearly pleased with his own ingenuity. Giles shook his head. 'Will you ever stop surprising me, Vampire?'
Spike grinned and began to eat the bacon. 'Dunno, how much time you gonna give me?'
'At this moment? I'm beginning to think I won't ever let you go.' He leant over and kissed Spike slowly, tasting the bacon and an early morning cigarette.
It was so natural after that, so easy. Afterwards, he couldn't remember pushing the tray to the floor, nor finding Spike's entrance, let alone pushing in. Conscious thought only really returned when he was deep inside the vampire. He stilled, looked down, and Spike was underneath him, watching him thoughtfully. Giles' eyes opened in shock, but he didn't find out what might have happened, for Spike reared up, kissed him and wrapped his legs around his back.
All he wanted to do then was move inside the tight channel. His brain screamed 'move' at him: it was instinctive, not something he could fight. Still exploring Spike's mouth, he began to rock on top of the hard, welcoming body. He felt Spike chuckle against his mouth and pulled back a little to look at him. Spike tipped his head back, laughing, looked at Giles… and began to move, too. The human gasped: every thrust was met with a hard, jerking return; every rise on the pale body was followed and extended for pleasure; every pause drawn out in the unnatural body until it seemed they were just one body - neither alive, nor dead - just being. Giles began to groan as he felt an orgasm swelling in his balls. He glanced down at Spike to see how far along he was and saw the vampire lost to his own pleasure, eyes tightly closed, face relaxed and calm, just the occasional clenching of his jaw as Giles pushed in. He wanted to ask Spike something…. He wanted to know how that one cool finger had been able to give him so much pleasure…. He wanted to know if he was giving the vampire the same pleasure, but couldn't find the words to say such things.
Suddenly, Spike unwrapped his legs and put them instead on Giles' shoulders. Giles moaned loudly at the change: for on his next thrust, he slipped another two inches into Spike's rectum. Spike mirrored the moan, and it was that, more than his own pleasure, that made Giles begin to cum.
'Giles? That you?'
To give Spike his due, he looked as shocked as Giles knew he was. He mouthed 'fuck', and Giles nodded, placing a finger over the vampire's lips.
Giles shouted as best he could, 'Of course. What do you want, Buffy? Give me a minute, and I'll come down.'
Giles pulled out but wouldn't look at Spike. This was his real life crashing back in, ripping the fabric of his fantasy apart and leaving nowhere for him to turn. What could he say? What could he do? He wrapped his old robe securely around his waist, tied a double knot and went towards the door. He glanced back. Spike had turned over on the bed and was watching him neutrally, propped up on one elbow. Giles hesitated, then said, 'Sorry.'
Spike only shrugged, but the small movement of the shoulders said volumes. Giles went slowly down the stairs to another beautiful face that now seemed to belong to another lifetime.
'Giles? What's up? You sick?'
'Yes. Sorry. What time is it? I meant to phone in.'
'No biggie: you're the boss.'
'Oh, yes, so I am. What do you want, Buffy?'
'We've a problem.'
'For a change then?'
'Jees… grump, much? Come on, Giles… monsters, end of the world: you love it!'
'Yes, well - what's the problem? I'm rather…. I'd rather like to go back to bed.'
'It's human, Giles.'
'Yeah, a group of would-be slayers, so I heard.'
'Oh God.' Giles ran a hand through his hair and only then discovered it was sticking straight up. 'And this is bad, why?'
Buffy looked annoyed. 'Giles! They aren't any good for one thing, and they're giving me a bad name. And second thing, they're getting the demons all itchy, wanting to scratch, and they're wanting to scratch me! One actually leapt out last night and said, "Slayerettes, you're dead meat!". I mean… how corny is that?'
'Very eighties, I agree. So, female gang then?'
'Oh, yeah, guess.'
'All right. I'll do some research, ask around… the usual. You take Xander with you tonight.'
'No. I mean…. Not if they're human….'
Buffy gave him an odd look but nodded. ''K. See ya later then. What shall I tell Anya?'
'Tell her…. Tell her I'm indisposed.'
Buffy had hardly shut the door when Giles ran two stairs at a time back up to the bedroom. Spike was sitting on the edge of the bed fully dressed, pulling on his boots.
Spike looked up and laughed. 'That a question, Watcher?'
'Apparently no point if it was, seeing as you're leaving.'
'Yeah well. Got me a bit of a problem.'
'Oh, what's that? Me?' Giles hated the bitter, spiteful tone of his voice but couldn't stop it.
Spike limped over, one boot still not on properly, and pinned him back against the wall. He took Giles' unresisting hand and pressed it to his soft groin. 'Nothing left, pet. I'm… starvin'. Ain't fed for over thirty hours. Need blood badly, an' I don't think you've got any for me… 'cept 'ere 'course.' He nuzzled into Giles' neck softly, chuckled and limped back to the bed to struggle with his boot.
'I'm sorry, Spike, about the interruption.'
'Hey! Weren't your fault, were it? An' if you hadn't gone down, she'd 'ave come up, and I'm thinking if that 'ad happened, you'd never be getting anything - fuck this fucking boot! - up ever again!.' Spike stomped down, finally satisfied, stood, shook out his shoulders, and made his way past Giles to the door.
'What am I supposed to do all day? I've told them I'm sick now.'
Spike ran a finger across Giles' robe as he passed. 'Rest, have a day in bed. Think about me? I've got plans for you tonight, and I need you well rested, 'k?'
Giles bowed his head as the pale finger passed over the gap of skin where his robe didn't quite meet and did the most uncharacteristic thing he'd done among a huge number of uncharacteristic things recently: he smiled and said softly, 'I miss you already.'
Spike paused, cast a longing look at the bed, but a huge rumble from his belly made them both laugh. He lent over and kissed Giles lightly, 'I'll pick you up soon as it's dark. We're going outta this bloody place, somewhere more… private.'
Giles nodded and watched him leave, and it was only when he lay back on the bed, thinking, that he remembered he had not told Spike of the so-called slayerettes. He frowned, but reasoned that Spike would be with him before any slaying activities, fake or real, that evening.
Good as his word, Spike blew the horn on his bike ten minutes after the last rays of light left the sky. Giles was ready and came out eagerly. The contrast in their mood from the last time they'd played out this scenario was too noticeable not to comment on it, and Giles made a ribald remark about Spike's clothes, and Spike responded with a jibe about the human's new-found techniques on the back of a bike. Smiling, Giles came closer. 'What's that?' He eyed the large box balanced precariously on his part of the seat.
'That's what you've gotta carry, pillock. And carefully. Get on.'
Giles squeezed the box between them and attempted to hang on to it and his life, as they once more sped towards the coast road. 'I'm not going back to Moon and the midget, Spike.'
'Nah. Somewhere better.'
Just as before, Spike pulled over to his viewpoint. If it were possible, it was even more beautiful than the previous night: the moon slightly fuller; the night slightly hotter, and the surf higher; its slow, monotonous, hypnotic rolling onto the shingle audible even from there.
Giles was about to comment on this and on his previous rudeness to Spike when, with an amused chuckle, Spike said, 'Hang on,' and plunged them over the side of the cliff.
Giles had always imagined that when his time finally came, he'd see his life flash proverbially before him. Either he'd had a particularly dull life, or this was not his time. All he saw was Spike's back and the rushing past of a few sparse trees; and all he felt was his back straining as he attempted to stay vertical on the vertical and thereby ended up almost bending back over the rear light. He thought he screamed; if he did, it was lost to the rush of Spike's manic, hyper scream of delight as he followed the tiny trail down the cliff.
They reached the shingle. Spike skewed the bike to one side and hopped off, leaving Giles, the box, and the bike, sprawling in the dark. 'What a fucking rush! God, that gets better every time I do it!'
Giles struggled up. 'You prat! You bloody prat! You've done that before? Jesus! Spike! God! My heart!'
Spike huffed and retrieved his box. 'I said look after this. If me stuff's all ruined, I'll….'
Giles was still standing with his hand theatrically on his heart. 'What? You chipped pillock! What'll you do?'
Spike laughed. 'I'll not make love to you tonight. Now stop acting like a girl, and follow me.'
Giles had little option, as he wasn't going back up… there. He turned around and looked up at the near-vertical climb behind them and shuddered once more. He stumbled over the sand to a small pile of rocks and watched, bemused, as Spike shook out a blanket, laid out a large supply of beer and began to strip off his T-shirt. 'Come on, last one in's a sissy.'
Spike held his T-shirt between his hands and favoured Giles with a particularly withering glance. 'Hmm. Beach? Ocean? Surf? Duh…. Where the fucking hell do you think? We're goin' swimming.'
Giles looked at the surf and the very dark, very deep water. 'No. I'm not.' If he'd ever said "no" before and gone back on it, well, this was the time to make a stand. 'I am not putting one inch of my body in that. It's cold. It's dangerous. It's deep. It's a riptide for God's sake, Spike. I'd be in Hawaii before I could say, "Bloody vampire!".'
Spike gave a small facial shrug and climbed out of his jeans. 'Your loss. Don't drink all the beer.'
He ran down to the sea and plunged in. Giles sat down heavily, his legs still a little wobbly. If he immediately regretted his hasty and rather petulant stand, he hid it well by looking morosely at the water. He wondered what it would feel like on such a hot night, and then berated himself for being so inconsistent. Spike seemed to find his calling, bringing out these inconsistencies.
He looked at the large supply of beer and felt even Spike wouldn't begrudge him one or two. Besides, it was now incredibly lonely and strange on the beach. He glanced behind him at the cliff face once more. It seemed very dark, the moon behind it, and he fancied he could see some caves…. Or they may have been shadows…. Either way, they unnerved him and made him reluctant to turn his back on them. The thought of the Sunnydale High Swim Team made him swiftly turn back toward the water. He shook himself and stood up, deciding at least to walk down to the edge of the surf and see if he could spot Spike. He took another beer and even went as far as taking off his shoes and socks, and rolling up his trousers. He smiled at the thought that a knotted handkerchief would have completed the picture and picked his way gingerly over the beach to the waters' edge. No sign of Spike, unless that tiny pale blob at least a mile out from shore was his head. The moon was shining brightly on the ocean, and whatever it was, it glowed faintly from reflected light. Could even Spike have swum that far in so short a time? Giles reasoned that it was the vampire when it appeared to turn and come back towards the shore. He sincerely hoped it was the vampire anyway.
Spike eventually came dripping out of the water, laughing as usual, still full of restless energy. He didn't seem to resent Giles ruining his plan, and only clapped him around the shoulders and led him back to the blanket.
'You've been here before…? And swum like this at night?'
Spike grinned. 'How da'ya think I keep in shape like this, mate? Ain't from fighting the few poxy demons we find in Sunnydale. 'Fore I was chipped, I'd hunt all night…. All night, Watcher, humans: running, bringing 'em down, fucking 'em, stringing 'em up…. Now I'm all restless like and need to work it off.'
Giles pulled away from him. 'Why do you do that, Spike? Why must you always test my boundaries like that? What am I supposed to say when you say things like that? They offend me. They make me want to stake you… as I should. My God, why do you do this to me?'
Quite what Giles meant by that last sentence was lost in the overall tone of his tirade. Spike pursed his lips slightly and toed the sand for a moment before speaking. 'Cus you pissed me off, Giles, that's why.'
'Oh.' Giles was somewhat floored by this; he'd expected some Spike-esque, smart remark. 'Err… how?'
Spike looked up, his expression carefully veiled, as if he'd given too much away already. 'I brought you here, Rupert.'
Giles waited, thinking Spike was about to continue, and when he didn't, compounded his sin by saying rather impatiently, 'And?'
Spike's jaw dropped slightly, and he laughed: a short, painful laugh. 'Bloody hell! That's it. I'm not doing this anymore with you; you ain't worth it after all.' He swung away and pulled on his T-shirt. He tried to get his jeans on, but that was more difficult over the still wet skin. He felt a warm hand on his shoulder. 'I am very, very sorry, Spike. I don't know what for, but I am very sorry, and I don't want you to go.'
Spike turned and let his jeans drop to the sand. He shook his head, seeming to debate how to take that apology from Giles, and then gave a small smile. 'You really don't get it, do you?'
'No, Spike, I don't. But I'm always being told I'm a little obtuse - at least where relationships are concerned.'
'This is my place, watcher, where I come…. You know….' Spike wrinkled his forehead a little, finding it hard to express this most intimate of things. 'When I need to get away from you lot, I guess. When the chaos is all too much. It's….'
'It's what you drew.'
Spike tipped his head on one side, not realising that the human had seen that. 'Yeah.'
'And I've ruined it? I didn't want to swim with you, so I've… somehow ruined it for you?'
Spike looked pained and shook his head; Giles knew he'd still not seen it. 'Never mind, pet, it's of no matter. Maybe I'm just being obtuse as well. Come on, beer's warming up, an' I hate warm beer. Reminds me of those bloody taverns and Pearly Kings singing "Roll Out the Barrel".'
Giles sat down with a laugh. 'You lived in the Hollywood version of old London then, did you, Spike?'
'Yeah. We had deep snow at Christmas and slags with hearts of gold.'
They drank companionably, chatting about nothing and everything. Giles could have cursed his earlier stupidity. He glanced surreptitiously at the vampire lying on his belly next to him. Spike had brought him here to this place for a reason, and he knew it was only outwardly to do with swimming or sex.
He'd thought the word, and his body began to respond to the subliminal message. Spike's body glowed in the moonlight, his backside rounded and soft in comparison to the rest of the hard lines and planes. Why had he thought that? Oh: he'd been staring at it for some time. Giles reached over and put his hand on one cheek. Spike chuckled and lay his head down on one folded arm, looking at Giles sideward through lowered lids. ''Bout bloody time.'
The effect was so seductive that Giles felt his loins pound with blood and his penis swell, just at the expression in Spike's eyes.
Giles smiled and knew he was drunk enough to forget some of his inhibitions, but not too drunk to follow through with what he was about to start.
He sat cross-legged and gently parted the vampire's cheeks, pushing the side of his hand into the valley between them and running up through the soft, cold skin. Spike obediently opened his legs a little but continued to look at Giles with almost hypnotically veiled eyes. Giles frowned slightly and asked his question once more in his head. "Spike, how did you make that mini-orgasm in my backside happen when you stuck your finger in the other night?" It sounded good: it was clear, concise and to the point. 'Spike?'
'When you… you know…. When you were…. The other night… why did that feel…? I think what I'm trying to say is, Angelus - see, I can say that name now quite fearlessly - when Angelus… took me, there was no pleasure - not surprising, of course: I'm not turned on by the thought of rape in the slightest; it's ghastly for all concerned… except, I suppose, for the rapist who's usually enjoying it in his own sick way - but when you… I mean, your finger….'
'Ahhhhhhhh!' Spike even put his hands over his ears as he screamed, and Giles rocked back, snatching his hand away and taking off his glasses to polish them furiously.
'What? What? Good God, Spike! Will you think of my heart occasionally: it does actually beat you know!'
Spike sat up. 'You! You bloody do my head in sometimes! Just ask me, Giles. Ask me anything! Go on, I dare you! Ask me about orgasms; ask me about fucking; ask me about life, death, eternity…. Just fucking ask something!'
'Why did your finger feel so good in my arse, Spike, when Angelus didn't.'
Spike couldn't resist: he glanced evilly at Giles but said innocently, 'Haven't got a clue, why ask me?'
Giles gasped with mock fury and hit him. Spike looked down at the spot on his arm where he'd been punched and… held it out. Giles saw the look on his face so hit him again - slightly harder. Spike moaned, 'Again, do it again, Giles.' He flung himself face down on the blanket, and it was incredibly clear to Giles where the vampire wanted to be hit next. He brought his hand down hard onto the raised cheeks. The slapping sound resounded around the beach, but Giles felt it hadn't reached as far as the surf. He wanted it to, so he did it again, harder. Next time he knelt up to put the full force of his strength behind the smack. Spike lifted his hips fractionally to the blow and the movement, so sexual, so explicit, made Giles groan. He fumbled frantically with his zip and released a hard erection to the night. He straddled one of Spike's thighs and pushed the other to one side, exposing the small hole. He rubbed his finger over it for a while, dipping it into his beer and using that to slick the edges. Something cool tricked over his other hand, and he looked down to see crystal beads of precum glinting in the moonlight on the tip of his penis.
He could wait no longer. He returned to the place that had given him so much pleasure that morning, but this time he watched his own entry avidly. He eased himself in and memorised every sensation: in his cockhead, around the ridged edge, in the shaft, and deep in his balls. Only when he was deeply in, did he say to the silent vampire, 'Tell me now, Spike, so I can make it like that for you.'
Spike's voice was small, as if being brought back from far away. 'It's just in there, luv, move around a bit, yeah? You'll find it - I'll let you know when you do.'
Giles nodded, wrapped a hand around Spike's belly to lift him slightly and began to slide in and out of the tight passage holding him. Before long, Spike knelt up, and keeping his face pressed into the blanket, he thrust up, bending the small of his back. Giles cried out at the move and shifted position, so he was kneeling to the vampire's backside. He pictured them as they would appear to an observer, and it was so wrong, so unnatural… so utterly erotic that he knew he would not last now. He put both hands around Spike's slim waist. He locked his fingers together over the tight belly. A few thrusts later and something cold and damp banged against his hands. He explored and gasped when he discovered Spike's cock, taut, hard, weeping and uncared for. Even in the throes of a building orgasm, Giles was able to marvel that this: doubling up had not occurred to him before. He moved his hold and almost used Spike like a handle to balance his thrusting. Spike cried out at the stimulation, but Giles knew something was still missing.
He didn't get it.
He wasn't sure what else to do.
He stilled for a moment to catch his breath, still working Spike's cock. He felt one leg cramping and needed to relieve his muscles. He pulled Spike to standing and then spread him against a rock. 'Sorry, I have to stand for a while.'
Spike nodded, but Giles could feel a sense of disappointment once more from the vampire. In this position, he could enjoy Spike's cock and balls more, and he tried to make it up to Spike by intensely playing with him…. but he was still embedded, and his brain cried out for him to move again, his own balls aching now for their delayed release.
He held onto Spike's shoulders and pushed in. He almost stumbled when Spike jerked back and screamed. 'Oh! Fuck!'
It was a good 'oh fuck'; they could both hear that, so Giles thrust again. Spike began to pant rapidly, and Giles took this as even better proof - for an non-breathing creature - that he'd found that elusive spot. Spike snatched one hand off the rocks and grabbed his own cock, working it frantically. 'Do it again. Fuck, do it again. It's been so bloody long. Fucking hundred years. Shove it in, mate…. Oh, yeah…. Again…. Again…. Harder… do me harder. Fuck you, Rupert, that's good. Harder, harder…. Gonna fucking fuck you into unconsciousness for this. OH! Jesus! Again! Yeah… keep going. OH MY GOD! I'm going to cum! Before you! Can't be! Shit! Keep…. Ahh… fuck, fuck, fuck….'
Giles watched an arc of white shoot from the tip of Spike's cock, catch and reflect the light, before running uselessly over the black rocks in front of them. Another, just as powerful, shot out; Giles gasped; his body seemed to respond to the sight, and his cock jumped inside the tight rectum and flooded it with a wave of sperm. He began to half-sob with the intensity of this orgasm. It was so much more than the one he'd shared with Spike's mouth. Once again, his legs began to shake, but he willed his whole body, in one huge effort, to stay with him for this intense experience, before, with a final shudder and a final, small spurt of cum, he staggered away and fell backward onto the soft sand.
Spike stayed braced against the rock for some minutes before he turned and plonked down ungracefully onto the blanket. With a slightly shaky hand, he lit a cigarette and smoked it down intently, as if he needed all that nicotine before rational thought could return.
Giles crawled over the rug and sprawled on his stomach. He wanted to tuck himself in but didn't have the energy. He didn't even protest when he felt Spike pulling his trousers and shorts off. He didn't assist when Spike turned him over and took off his shirt. He finally lay naked in the moonlight next to Spike; the only sound, the surf that began to surge over the sand once more, having apparently paused in awe at the power of the two men's orgasms.