Title: An American Werewolf in Westbury, Part 2/3
Author: Neena (varscona_pal@yahoo.ca)
Rating: NC-17 (slash)
Pairing: Giles/Oz
Disclaimer: Joss and all the various networks own the rights to Buffy and her world. This story is for fun, not money.
Feedback: Luuurve it!
Spoilers: Set between season 6 and 7, with Giles, Willow and Oz in England.
Summary: There’s a bad, naughty moon rising…

Giles awoke in the dark, feeling cold, achy and confused. His eyes were wide open, but he couldn’t see, and for a second he honestly thought he’d gone blind. Then he remembered where he was and who he was with, and he suddenly realised that the warm, smooth skin under his hand was not his own. He snatched his hand away from Oz’s thigh and the young man leaned back against him.

“You can leave it there, if you want,” came Oz’s familiar voice out of the darkness. “I don’t mind, really…it was kinda nice.”

“I, uh…um…I…” Giles stammered helplessly.

Oz felt around on the floor until he found the lantern. He turned it on and rolled onto his back, looking up at Giles. The golden light from the lantern bathed them both in a soft amber glow.

“What you did for me last night, Giles…well, I thought it was incredibly brave,” said Oz, fixing him with a steady gaze.

“Or incredibly stupid,” Giles replied, fighting the temptation to stare at the younger man’s body. Why was he flaunting himself this way? “Wait a minute—you remember what happened last night?”

Oz nodded, “All of it.” His usually unreadable face broke into a devilish grin. “You were very sweet. I especially liked it when you sang to me.”

“I wasn’t aware that I had,” said Giles, clearly flustered. “Oz, I’m sorry—I had no idea you’d remember. If I’d known, I never would have…”

“Treated me like a great big puppy?” Oz finished. “It’s okay, Giles. Like I said, I thought you were sweet.” Acting on impulse, Oz drew himself up and kissed him softly on the lips. That nearly sent Giles into a whole new dimension of awkward embarrassment. He bolted upright and pressed himself against the cold stone wall, crossing his arms over his chest in modesty. Before he could muster up words to express his confusion, Oz intervened.

“Giles, relax, it’s okay—I’m backing off. I didn’t mean to freak you out. I thought I was getting a vibe back there, that’s all. My bad.” Oz turned away and started rooting around for some clothes to wear.

Giles was stunned speechless. He watched the slim young man struggle to pull on his pants for a while before clueing into the fact that Oz was injured and needed his help. Overcoming his natural shyness, Giles got to his feet and came up behind his old friend.

“W-would you like a hand?” he asked, clearing his throat nervously.

Oz nodded and turned to face him, allowing his jeans to pool around his ankles. Even in the dim light he could see Giles flush a deep red as he knelt down to retrieve the pants. Oz held onto Giles’ shoulder to steady himself as the older man pulled up his baggy jeans. Giles’ shaky hands fumbled with the zipper long enough for him to become acutely aware of Oz’s arousal. When he finally stood up, he couldn’t bring himself to look into the boy’s eyes. But Oz still had his hand on his shoulder and refused to let him move away to a ‘safer’ distance. Giles eventually gave in and met his eyes—Oz’s expression was caught somewhere between concern and…something else. Concern won out in the end.

“Are you alright?” he asked soberly.

“I should be asking you that question,” Giles answered.

“No. I mean, are you okay with me now? Knowing how I feel about you?”

“You don’t beat around the bush, do you?”

Oz shrugged, a wisp of a smile gracing his face.

Giles retrieved his jacket from the cave floor and put it on as he tried to come up with an answer.

“You have to understand that it’s a bit of a shock. I honestly don’t know what to say,” said Giles.

“Then don’t say anything. Just think about it. I’ll keep my distance like I always have in the past, and if you decide you want to see me again, just leave a signal. I’ll find it.” Oz busied himself with finding a clean shirt. He could almost hear the battle going on in Giles’ head.

“I can’t leave you here,” said Giles, focusing on a problem he could solve. “You’re hurt and those hunters may still be after you. I’ll bring you back to the coven. You’ll be safe there, and I’ll be able to get a better look at that bullet wound.”

“I can’t go back to the coven with you,” said Oz.

“You can and you will.”

“I’m not going to put anyone else in danger. There’s something about this place, Giles—I can’t control the changes while I’m here. If I change at the coven I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to keep the wolf on a leash like I did last night. Can you help me with this?” he asked, holding out a dingy-looking t-shirt.

Giles took the shirt with obvious distaste. “When was the last time you did laundry?”

“There’s a stream not too far away, but I don’t have detergent, so this is as white as it gets.” He let Giles lower the grungy garment over his head, and even he had to admit it had seen better days. Giles didn’t even attempt to get Oz’s hurt arm into its sleeve, and the shirt sagged sadly on his slight frame. Giles shook his head.

“That’s it—you’re coming home with me. No arguments. I can’t believe you’ve been living like this!” Giles started to leave, knowing Oz would follow.

“Giles, wait,” said Oz as they emerged from the cave. “Does Willow know I’m here?”

“No.”

“Do you think we could keep it that way?”

Giles frowned, “Why don’t you want her to know you’re here? Willow would be thrilled to see you again.”

“Do you honestly think so? I’ve been watching her for a while now. She’s doing better, but if I turn up now, out of the blue…I just don’t think she’s ready for that kind of a shock yet.”

“You might be right,” Giles conceded. “Seeing you now, especially with a gunshot wound, could cause a major setback in her recovery. Well, I’ll just have to sneak you in. My quarters are in a different wing than Willow’s, so it shouldn’t be too hard to keep you hidden.”

Oz decided it was pointless trying to argue with Giles. Besides, the thought of a hot shower and a soft bed was too tempting to resist. And he really didn’t want to leave Giles just yet. Not now that he’d finally confronted him—now that he’d got so close…

He followed Giles over the countryside until they came to an unpaved country road. Giles’ car sat abandoned on the side of the road, a slip of paper flapping on the windshield.

“Damn,” said Giles, plucking the ticket from under the wiper. “Just my luck,” he muttered under his breath. So much for Willow’s good luck charm, he thought wryly.

They drove the short distance in silence. Giles was busy sorting through the debris left in the wake of Oz’s revelation. He knew he should be thinking of Willow and how this might affect her, but he couldn’t move past that brief kiss and the leviathan of desire it had awakened in him. Then there was the look in Oz’s eyes—that flash of …something else. How long had he harboured these feelings for him? he wondered. And what made him think the attraction would be mutual? Were his homosexual tendencies that obvious? He thought he’d hidden it pretty well; but then Oz was always more observant than the others. Maybe he’d guessed years ago. Or maybe he’d just taken a huge risk in the off chance he might feel the same way. Giles thought back to his reaction to Oz’s advances and winced—he’d handled the situation poorly. Still, it was probably for the best. If things had gone any further, Willow would never have been able to forgive them.

This was Heaven. Oz stretched out on the bed delighting in the give of the mattress and the cushiness of the goose-down duvet. But it wasn’t just any bed…it was Giles’ bed. In Giles’ room. Oz could smell Giles’ scent on everything, like he was wrapped up in the older man’s arms, and for the first time in years he didn’t feel lonely. He’d never felt this way before—with Willow it had been different. With her he was the protector and guide, never pushing, never demanding. But with Giles he felt a constant ache and a desperate need to be close to him. Oz gingerly rolled onto his stomach and buried his face in Giles’ pillow. This was Heaven.

Giles, meanwhile, was prowling around the estate looking for restraints to use on Oz for the upcoming full moon. He went straight for a shed he’d noticed on one of his earlier walks. It was non-descript, yet it was padlocked, and therefore highly suspicious. Putting some of his old skills to use, he picked the lock and eased the creaky door open. He was right—there were many things in the shed that the coven might not want anyone to see. Ingredients and weapons used in the black arts lined the shelves and in a trunk in the corner Giles found old-fashioned manacles and chains neatly stored. The keys hung tidily from little hooks on the wall above the trunk. He gathered up what he needed and shoved them into the backpack he’d brought along, then headed back to the house.

He was just about to head up the stairs to his room when he heard Willow’s voice behind him.

“Guess I don’t have to ask if you had a good time last night?” she said. Giles looked down at himself and saw that he was still shirtless underneath the jacket, and he must have looked pretty dishevelled.

“What happened to your nice suit?” she asked. “No, wait—don’t tell me…I’ll let my imagination fill in the gaps. Oh Giles! I’m so excited for you! When are you seeing her again? I want details.” She fairly bounced with glee.

“Willow, it’s not polite to kiss and tell,” he answered.

“So there were smoochies involved? Well, duh—you didn’t come home last night! Serious smoochies. But I’m not prying,” she said, her eyes pleading for more information.

“Good,” said Giles. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to have a bath and a nap. I didn’t get much sleep last night.” Willow’s giggles followed him up the stairs.

He found Oz snoozing on his bed. He looked so sweet; his lean features smooth and slack with sleep. Giles hated having to wake him, but he needed to check on his wound.

“Oz,” he said quietly. There was no reaction. He put down his backpack and leaned over him. “Oz?” he whispered, and tousled his spiky blond hair, surprised at how soft it felt.

Oz stirred and cracked and eye open to look at Giles. “I don’t want to go to school today,” he said, lowering his eyelid.

“Oh, ha-ha,” said Giles. “Get up. I’ll run you a bath and have a look at that shoulder. And I’m burning those clothes. You can wear something of mine until we can go shopping.”

Oz obediently crawled off the bed and followed Giles down the long hall to the bathroom. It was immense. A deep, claw-foot tub sat in the middle of the black and white tiled room. Large windows of frosted glass flooded the open space with warm summer sunlight

Giles smiled at Oz’s open-mouthed expression. He found it amazing that a bathroom could elicit a greater reaction from his friend than vampires, demons and Hellmouths. Giles slid open the medicine cabinet and gathered up bandages, antiseptics and painkillers. He saw Oz coming up behind him in the mirror and caught that look in his eyes again.

“Okay…let’s have a look at you. I-I-I mean, a l-look at your…shoulder,” he amended lamely.

Oz’s lip curled into a tiny smile at Giles’ blunder. He may not be a lost cause yet, he thought.

Giles carefully pulled Oz’s filthy shirt off and threw it across the room. He slowly peeled away the makeshift bandages on Oz’s shoulder. They were caked in blood, but none of it was fresh. Giles was pleased to note that the wound wasn’t as bad as he feared. The exit wound would leave a nasty scar, but the tissue damage was minor, and he could tell with a bit of poking and prodding that his bones were intact. He’d been extremely lucky.

“Well? What’s the verdict?” asked Oz. It hurt like hell, but he wasn’t about to let on.

“All things considered, I’d say it looks very good.” Giles doused the wound with antiseptic, making Oz hiss quietly in pain. “It’s all done, Oz. You can let go now.”

Oz hadn’t realized that he’d been clutching Giles’ arm throughout the procedure. He released his grip and flexed his white-knuckled fingers.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly.

“Oz,” said Giles with exasperation, “You’ve been shot! You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t hurt, and you certainly don’t have to apologise for showing it. Now…take these and stop being so bloody heroic.” He handed Oz two painkillers and poured him a glass of water. He let a smile slip as their eyes met.

“Alright,” said Oz after swallowing the pills, “No more heroics. My arm aches like a bastard, and I don’t think I can manage to wash myself. You’re gonna have to help me,” he batted his eyes up at Giles mischievously.

Giles had walked into that one. He shook his head in mock despair and went to turn on the water.

“Giles…I can’t get my pants off.”

“You’re loving this, aren’t you?”

“No…I’m serious. My right arm is pretty much useless, and unlike you, I’m not a leftie. So unless you want me to get into that tub with my pants on, you’d better help me.”

Giles rolled his eyes theatrically as Oz came and stood in front of him. Oz placed his left hand against the warm skin at the back of Giles’ neck, ostensibly to steady himself while stepping out of his jeans. He couldn’t help it if his thumb had a mind of its own and decided to play with the silky soft curls at the nape of his neck. And then it only seemed natural to pull his head down for a kiss.

Giles wasn’t sure if he’d lost his mind or if he’d simply lost all self-control. The predatory look in Oz’s eyes made him weak in the knees, and when Oz guided his head down for a kiss, he didn’t resist. They met each other halfway, sharing hot, hitching breaths as their lips brushed lightly together.

Oz took the lead, gently prying Giles’ lips apart with his tongue. Giles welcomed him eagerly with a soft, grumbling moan. Their tongues battled playfully as Giles’ hands explored the contours of Oz’s back. His skin was smooth and cool under his hands, and his fingertips traced over his ribs and spine like a blind man reading Braille.

Oz broke the kiss at last, coming down off his toes. “So, I guess you’ve thought about it, then?” he asked with a sly grin.

“No,” he answered truthfully. “I’m afraid to think about it. I don’t want to think about it.”

“Good. Then you’ll join me in the bath?” asked Oz, stepping into the rapidly filling bathtub.

“I must be mad,” said Giles, his brow deeply furrowed even as he was unbuttoning his jacket. “This is crazy.”

“You’re thinking. Stop it,” said Oz. Giles surprised himself by giving him a quick pat on the behind in response.

Giles carefully folded his pants and placed them on the toilet seat, then he turned off the water and climbed into the tub with Oz. They stood facing each other for an awkward moment, Giles getting used to the thought that this was Oz he was with. It was Oz’s hands roaming through his chest hair; Oz’s black-painted fingernails gently raking down his abdomen and back up again.

Oz felt more in tune with Giles than he’d felt with anyone. His body instantly responded to the broad, masculine torso under his fingertips. Giles’ body fascinated him—the soft spray of chest hair, his long, slender legs and gently rounded bottom—all of it so different than his own body. Then there were the scars. He had no idea there were so many. They were a testimony to his bravery, silently declaring this humble man a hero. He looked hungrily into Giles’ green eyes and noticed for the first time the fleck of brown in the left one—so many things to discover. He wrapped his good arm around Giles, bringing their bodies together with a slight bump.

A sharp exhilaration shot through Giles as Oz’s body rubbed up against his. He worked hard to shut off the part of his brain that was telling him this was a mistake—Oz was young a beautiful and couldn’t possibly find him attractive. He had to keep reminding himself that Oz was the one who’d initiated this, and Oz was the most level-headed person he’d ever met. Giles allowed himself to relax and lowered them both into the full tub. Oz sat back against him, resting the back of his head on Giles’ chest and closed his eyes to better enjoy the moment.

Giles looked down and marvelled at the lithe body on top of him. Lathering up his hands with soap, he began massaging Oz’s upper body. He was very much aware that they were both becoming aroused and that if he didn’t stop what he was doing they would never make it out of the bath. He handed Oz the bar of soap and got a grunt of disappointment in return. As Oz cleaned the rest of his body, Giles squirted a dollop of shampoo into the young man’s short, bleached hair and rubbed his fingers into his scalp until he’d formed a thick foam.

“Rinse,” said Giles, and Oz slid down so his head was under the water. He rose up shaking his head like a wet dog, splattering foamy water everywhere.

“Stop it, you’re getting my hair wet,” Giles said.

“Poor baby,” Oz replied and splashed a great wave of water into Giles’ face. He sputtered and fumed and swore revenge—water flew as they wrestled in the tub, giggling like little children. By the time they were through, there was nearly as much water on the floor as there was in the tub. Oz held his throbbing shoulder; watching Giles cut loose was well worth the pain.

“How’s your arm?” Giles asked, concerned.

“I don’t know…it’s pretty bad. I think I might need you as my personal slave for a while.”

“It seemed perfectly fine when you threw that loofah at me.”

“That was in the heat of the battle. Now that I’ve won, I need someone to tend to my war wounds.”

“And in what reality did you win that battle? Because you lost in the one I live in,” said Giles.

“Okay, you may have won…but it was a lopsided victory.” Oz stepped out of the tub and splashed across the wet tiles to the door. “But if you want to claim your spoils of war you’re gonna have to catch me first.” Throwing the door open, Oz bounded out, stark naked, into the hallway.

“Bloody hell!” Giles hurried after him, nearly wiping out twice on the slippery floor before reaching the door. He took a quick glance down the hallway in both directions to see if the coast was clear before chasing Oz back to his bedroom in the buff.

Giles slammed the door behind him and advanced on Oz who was perched innocently on the end of the bed. Oz smiled beatifically at him. Giles scowled back.

“How am I supposed to keep you hidden if you go streaking down the halls in the nude?”

“What can I say? Deep down I’m just an exhibitionist looking for an excuse,” said Oz, lazily batting his pale lashes at Giles.

Giles’ scowl softened into an appreciative smile. “I can’t say I blame you. With a body as beautiful as yours, it’s a shame to keep it covered.” Giles felt a wave of heat flush right to the roots of his hair. He couldn’t believe he’d said that out loud. “I uh…I forgot the bandages,” he said, grabbing his robe from the back of the door before disappearing out of the room.

When he returned, Oz was exactly as he’d left him, right down to the angelic look on his face. Giles wrapped himself modestly in the robe and sat next to him on the bed.

When he’d finished bandaging Oz’s shoulder, he looked at the result with pride. “There. That should hold,” he said, his hand lingering close to Oz’s neck. When their eyes met, Giles shifted uncomfortably and dropped his gaze to his lap.

“Are you thinking again?” asked Oz. “’Cause I thought we decided you should stop doing that.”

“It’s just…it’s been a long time—longer than I’d care to admit—and frankly, I find it hard to believe that you really want this.”

Oz sighed quietly and took Giles’ hand in his own. “Ever since I left Willow I’ve kept close tabs on her, lurking in the background, watching her go about her life. At first it was because I was jealous of Tara, I admit. But over time my feelings for her changed. I kept coming back, not because I was in love with her, but because I needed to know she was okay. And after a while I realised I’d stopped watching her almost entirely. I was too busy watching you. I felt like I was the only person who really saw you.

“I saw your loneliness and the sacrifices you made, and when Buffy died, my heart broke for you. I followed you back to England, saw you carving out a new life for yourself—starting to live again—until your duty called you back to Sunnydale.

“I fell in love with you so slowly that I couldn’t tell you when it happened, exactly. But believe me when I tell you that I do love you.”

Giles was still for a long while, absorbing what he’d heard, then he peeked up at Oz. “When did you become such a chatterbox?” he asked, his eyes twinkling. Oz punched him playfully on the shoulder and pushed him back onto the bed. He pried open Giles’ robe, laying him bare before him, then flung himself on top of him, making him grunt in surprise.

“No more talking, then,” said Oz, and he clamped his mouth over Giles’ in a deep kiss.

Giles surrendered at last to Oz’s advances, and delved into the kiss. He swept his hands over Oz’s back to firmly cup both ass cheeks. He gave them a squeeze, and Oz countered by nibbling at his earlobe.

“No biting, Oz.”

“Sorry…forgot,” he murmured into his ear. He resumed kissing his way down Giles’ throat to his chest, where he spent some time flicking his tongue over the left nipple. It pebbled when he toyed with it between his lips, making Giles draw in a hissing breath. Oz rested his chin on Giles’ chest and smiled up at him.

“No need to look so smug,” Giles teased.

“I did that to you,” said Oz proudly.

“Yes, you did…and I’d appreciate it if you’d get back to it,” he chuckled.

Oz obeyed, repeating the action with the right nipple before continuing his downward trajectory. He paused once to dip his tongue in and out of Giles’ bellybutton. He was rewarded with a heartfelt groan. Oz grinned into the ticklish flesh of his stomach, then licked a tantalizingly slow trail down to the springy curls that hugged the base of Giles’ erection. There he hovered, his mouth poised millimetres away from the engorged member, his hot breath teasing the sensitive skin. Giles’ chest rose and fell rapidly with his growing anticipation. He thought he might be forced to beg—was, in fact, on the verge of pleading unabashedly—when Oz finally touched him. Giles whimpered in relief.

Oz’s small fingers gripped Giles’ shaft as he ran his tongue over the weeping slit, lapping up his juices. He took him into his mouth as far as he could manage, hollowing his cheeks as he bobbed his head up and down. He could feel Giles’ hands in his hair, guiding his movements. He also sensed that Giles was nearly ready to cum. He stopped, ignoring the hands on his head urging him to keep going. He slid up the bed next to Giles and turned his back on him.

“Oz?”

Oz gazed at him from over his bandaged shoulder, “This is where you take over.” To emphasize his meaning, he pressed his ass against Giles’ thigh.

“Are you sure?” Giles asked.

“Please?” he answered, pushing up against him even harder.

Giles shifted his position on the bed so he was spooning Oz. He rained kisses over Oz’s throat and neck—wherever his lips could reach. His erection rubbed between Oz’s thighs, and he thrust his hips instinctively. It was then he realised they were missing something. He rolled over on the bed and quickly rummaged through his bedside table until he found a long-abandoned tube of lubricant.

Oz watched as Giles slicked his penis with the clear fluid, and when the older man returned to his place behind him, there was a new sense of excitement between them. A wet finger slipped between his cheeks, passing over his sphincter a few times before venturing into the tight opening.

As soon as he dared, Giles removed his fingers from the stretched hole and guided his penis into it. Oz moaned and did his best to relax his muscles around the large intrusion. Slowly, with tiny thrusts, Giles embedded himself deep inside the young man. He set a languorous rhythm, not wanting to rush the moment. With his free hand he took hold of Oz’s erection, and stroked him in time with his trusts.

Despite his efforts to keep a slow pace, Giles’ body cried out for release, and he quickly lost control. Rocking deeper and faster into Oz’s ass, his hand rapidly working the boy’s penis, Giles’ cried out as his orgasm rolled through him. Oz joined him, silently spurting semen over Giles’ hand, his face contorted in an almost painful pleasure.

Outside in the hallway, her ear pressed to the door, Willow grinned widely. Her charm had worked; Giles got lucky. She only hoped whatever woman he had in there realised just how lucky she was.

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