TITLE: JUST ENOUGH 4/5
AUTHOR: PhenDog
AUTHOR E-MAIL: PhenDog@gmail.com
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Giles, Spike, or anything else except my beloved computer named "Slate." (Obviously I don't own them, or I'd own a lot more than Slate and you'd have to pay to read this.) The Buffyverse belongs to Joss, ME (yes I know, old joke), and a whole bunch of alphabetical TV networks, `specially now that it's gone into syndication. Please don't sue, I know I don't have permission. Bad me. All my money went to bootleg X-files and Buffy episodes and Slate doesn't want to leave me!
Warning for this part and the next: Contains bloodplay and feeding

Spike awoke and felt the shivering chest beneath him. Even after realizing where he was and who he was with, it took him a moment to realize the cause of the Watcher's condition. The water had cooled off, to the point where it was surely chilling to the human.

"Rupert?" he shook him gently. "Watcher?"

Giles opened his eyes slightly, then sat up quite suddenly when he recognized the face above him. Quickly, it all flooded back into him and he groaned. "Lord."

Spike stood on shaky legs, the water cascading off him. Once he found stable footing, he offered his hand. "Come on, Watcher. Water's cold and we're both getting pretty wrinkled up. Time to get out and get dry."

Making a sound in agreement, Giles got to his feet as well, and hit the drain to allow the water to run out of the tub. Grabbing a large white bath towel for himself, he threw another to Spike.

When the towel had absorbed a reasonable amount of water from his body and hair, Giles folded it over once and threw it over the bar along the wall.

"Come along," he requested, opening the door. Wordlessly, Spike followed his example with the towel and trailed behind him out of the bathroom and up the stairs. Once they reached his room, Giles threw open the closet doors, and hesitated briefly, forcing himself to admit he really didn't want to send Spike home right away.

"Here. It'll be big on you…" Spike took the wine-red robe without comment, understanding the invitation to stay, and began to shrug it on as Giles stepped into a pair of grey sweatpants. The Watcher reached back into the closet to retrieve a matching sweatshirt, but turned when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"If you're cold or uncomfortable, that's one thing, but you don't need to hide it from me, Rupert. I've seen it, and I know those marks were honorably earned. You did well that night." He let his fingers trail down gingerly, finding the thickest of the scars on the man's back, as Giles forced himself not to flinch. "No need to cover them up."

With his other hand, Spike took the shirt from his grasp, and, after a moment, Giles let him. When he'd already been naked in the shower, he hadn't even really thought about it, but now that he was making a conscious choice, he felt incredibly exposed and vulnerable. "All right. But we never speak of it again. Agreed?"

"Unless you bring it up, no."

"Thank you."

The silence turned awkward, and Spike finally sought a way to break it. "If…if you'll let me close the blinds against the sunlight, I can take the couch. Like old times. Dawn's in a few hours, anyway."

Giles nodded as he sat down on the end of the bed. "Yes. That's fine, if you'd like." Then he winced, remembering. "I'm afraid we might have made a bit of a mess down there, though."

"Nah. Cleaned it up while you were in the bathroom. Or at least tried to."

"Thank you," Giles glanced away, embarrassed again by his actions earlier that night. "If I'm lucky, one of the others might call in the morning to check up on me, but I rather doubt anyone will drop by, so we won't have to worry about awkward questions." He couldn't help the trace of bitterness in his tone, but he knew it was true. They met at night so that the lot of them could all fail miserably at trying to fill in for one Slayer, but, unless there was research to be done, he seldom saw the others save for when they dropped by the shop.

"You don't work tomorrow?"

"No, uh, Anya takes the shop on Fridays in exchange for Mondays off. She likes the larger weekend crowds, and I'd just as soon let her deal with them."

"Right. Well, then." Spike started to leave, then paused still not quite ready to leave. "You wouldn't happen to have a pint or two of Miss Piggy sitting around in that freezer of yours still, would you? It's been a while, and I'm getting a tad peckish."

Giles sighed, inwardly. He knew Spike hadn't been eating well for quite some time, even though the vampire would occasionally manage to talk Willy out of some of the `house red' kept in the back. The Watcher in him also knew that sex tended to increase the vampiric metabolism and force the need; which was likely a large part of what had caused Spike to forget the chip and bite him earlier. Chances were, if Spike was asking about such a sensitive subject now, the hunger actually was rather strong. "I cleaned the last of it out a few months ago, I'm afraid," he admitted with genuine regret. "Perhaps, I could stop by your crypt during the day?"

Spike shook his head, and crossed his arms across his stomach, drawing the robe protectively tighter around himself. "Nah. Ran out a few nights ago; been meaning to get some more. It's okay."

"The butcher shop, then." Spike started to speak again, but Giles cut him off, as he looked up at him from his position on the end of the bed. "It's been a tough night, and if you're asking me, of all people, I'm supposing the hunger must be getting a bit…sharp."

Spike was surprised by the understanding tone and acceptance in the green eyes. "Thank you. It is…" He walked over to the bed and gently felt the back of Giles' head, finding the lump, evoking a slight wince. "How `bout you? You gonna be okay? Don't need to wake you up every few hours or anything do I? Humans can be rather fragile, and we haven't exactly been taking it easy."

Giles laughed humorlessly. "No, we haven't. But I'm fine, and I'm used to taking care of myself, Spike."

"Maybe. But you're looking after me; only fair that I do the same. If no one else'll take care of us, only makes sense we take care of each other."

Giles heard the clip of pride in the voice, and saw the resolve and promise in the blue eyes that nearly shocked him again. If Spike could feel compassion for him, maybe he really was capable of love for Buffy as well, he mused. Certainly, his behavior was rather extraordinary for a vampire in other ways. A thought occurred to him, and he mentally debated with himself before coming to a decision. "Don't go just yet. Sit down for a minute," he requested, indicating the spot on the bed next to him as he, himself stood.

Curious, Spike followed the command, and watched intently as Giles bent to retrieve something from the nightstand beside the bed. When the Watcher rose again, Spike could see it was a wide-bladed knife, beautiful with its ebony and ruby encrusted handle. The vampire arched an eyebrow.

Solemnly, Giles brushed the flat of the blade over his bare forearm, across the wounds from the bite which had already sealed and begun to heal due to the properties of the vampire's saliva. Then he turned the knife and ran the edge of the blade lengthwise long the vein in his right forearm, tracing the line of the earlier bite from one tooth mark to the other. The Watcher didn't flinch as skin parted smoothly, and the blood began to well up, immediately.

Giles sat beside him on the bed once more and held out the arm. Spike watched, fascinated by the crimson line that called out to the demon inside him, threatening to bring it to the surface. He licked his lips, feeling out the thirst, before he realized the danger. "Rupert?" he inquired hesitantly as he made the incredible effort to move his eyes from the blood and meet the gaze of the man who appeared to be offering it.

"You need it, and I…need to know. If we're going to do this, I need to know," he stated simply, in response. Giles agreed to the relationship—craved it even—but if Spike wanted to push their association into the realm of caring for one another, he knew he had to face the simple truth that he was giving himself to a vampire. It didn't matter that Spike's demon was not capable of demanding blood from him on his own.

"You sure?" Spike asked, eyes once more riveted on the flow of red that was beginning to spill over the edges of the wound. When a vampire took a human as a lover it nearly always involved blood. Still, this case was slightly different, and Spike hadn't expected that aspect would enter into it.

"You are a vampire, Spike. I can't afford to forget that. I don't want to."

"You…shouldn't trust me," the voice strained. "It's been so long, I don't know if I can control myself."

"I don't trust you," Giles stated matter-of-factly. "I do, however, trust that chip. If it can pull off a vampire in full rut…" he trailed off, having made his point and not wanting to pursue it. "Quick now. I don't fancy cleaning blood out of the carpet." His left hand came up to wipe away the rivulets and keep them from dripping down.

Spike nodded, and swallowed, letting his tongue run quickly over his lips again, as his stomach fluttered with anxiety and anticipation. To be fed voluntarily was one thing, but that a Watcher, particularly Rupert Giles, might ever allow it…it was a gift, and one that shouldn't be taken lightly. Drinking in this fashion felt like an act of submission and sharing, rather than possessing the dominance a vampire's bloodtaking usually held. To honor that, Spike slid off the bed and dropped to his knees in front of the other man. He let his face shift, allowing the demon to come forth, knowing that it would very likely appear the instant the blood hit his lips anyway. Giving the Watcher one more chance to back out, he looked up, baring the teeth.

Giles stared directly into the yellow eyes, his own stomach clenching at the knowledge of what he was doing. Steeling himself, he moved his arm closer, granting permission to the creature before him. Two hands grasped his arm at the wrist and elbow, holding it steady as the demon closed his eyes and leaned over the offering. The cool, wet tongue darted out against his skin, laving it clean of the blood that had spilled over in long sensuous swipes, that made both of them shiver at the harsh reality of it. Then that mouth latched onto the wound, covering it, and sealing the lips over the cut.

Spike moaned at the taste of it, hot and rich. He'd known that Slayers and even Potentials had that extra spiciness to their blood which marked them as Chosen. Now, it appeared Watchers had a degree of it as well, and he reveled in the warmth and strength that coursed through him, wondering if Giles was aware of the potency of his gift. Eagerly, he sucked and licked the wound, insinuating his tongue between its edges and encouraging the blood to thin out and come forth, as the Watcher repeatedly clenched his fist toward the same goal.

Giles felt the hard, blunt length of the fangs pressing firmly against his arm, ever so carefully positioned to avoid letting them pierce the skin. He understood Spike was trying to appease the demon by simulating the bite as closely as possible, and, to his surprise, that thrilled him. He encouraged the blood to flow faster. At first, the suction and pulling on the wound had been an odd sensation, but as the chemicals in Spike's mouth reached the cut and mingled in his bloodstream, the quicksilver pain of the knife wore off and was replaced by euphoria that made him lightheaded. He'd read the accounts and knew of his own experiences with the few times he'd felt the teeth slip in during a battle, but it wasn't until just then that Giles understood the full appeal a vampire's bite could have. It was its own unique kind of ecstasy and he gave himself over to it.

It was a relatively small amount of blood but it sang through him, filling Spike with the lifeforce he could no longer generate on his own. Then he began to taste the hormones flooding into the Watcher's blood and feel the racing of the heart as it increased the flow. He smiled against the skin. Whether Giles knew it or not, he was becoming aroused, and Spike felt it begin to affect him as well. Unfortunately, the mix of blood with the hint of sex excited the demon and he knew it was time to back off before he lost control. Regretfully, he pressed his tongue to the sac in his mouth which released the chemical which served both as a coagulant and to encourage healing. Then he withdrew, licking the last of the blood from his lips as he forced his features back to their human form.

Examining Giles' face as he looked up from his position on the floor below, Spike could see the lust in the darkened green of his eyes and the panting of his breath. However, he could also see the slight unhealthy cast to the human's skin and managed to tear his mind from the idea of shagging then and there. Spotting a dark blue washcloth on the dresser, he got up and snagged it, then pressed it against the wound, directing Giles to continue the pressure. It would seal soon enough, but no point in making a mess or causing himself further temptation.

"Good for you too, Rupert?" he asked, bringing up a finger to gently caress a cheek as he moved to sit beside the other on the bed once more.

"I never knew…it's never been like that before," Giles whispered, leaning toward the touch.

"Probably because you've never given into it before, and because you've never had an experience with a master vampire. With fledglings it's weak, but the stronger the vampire…it can get damn powerful for humans. It's how we manage to attract consorts and feeders."

"Dracula's thrall," Giles wondered aloud, recalling how the bite had affected his Slayer.

"Er, yes." Spike winced slightly, as that particular association wasn't what he'd been going for. Casually, he picked up the knife and tested the blade with his finger reconfirming its fine edge. "Now I want to do the same thing for you."

Giles' expression immediately hardened. "The same thing?"

"You should drink, Rupert," he insisted, stroking the shoulder of the arm he'd fed from. "You were injured before and lost blood from the first bite, not to mention what you gave me just now. You know you need the strength, and I can give it to you. I can already feel you running through me, bright and powerful."

"Spike…"

"I'm not trying to turn you, don't worry. You haven't lost near enough."

Giles sighed. "I know; I've read the Chronicles and know the rules. It would cause changes, but they wouldn't be permanent. That's not what concerns me. It's just…"

The vampire put a finger to his lips to quiet him. "You were the one who needed to know. You shouldn't just go halfway on this. That's dangerous." Giles started to object, but Spike silenced him again. "No. New rule. If you never feed me again, that's fine—your choice, but every time you do, you gotta let me feed you too, okay? You decide how often this happens, but we have to make this reciprocal."

It was precarious ground for both of them, the vampire knew, because it signaled a certain symbolic relationship. Mutual feeding would indicate that he was taking Giles as his consort, using his own blood to strengthen and nourish Giles and to help him replenish whatever blood he volunteered to his vampire mate. Still, it would be safer, keeping the Watcher's blood strong and pure, preventing him from weakening, reducing scarring, and providing him with antibodies against any disease Spike might be carrying which could be transmitted through sexual intercourse or saliva. It also implied greater equality than allowing Giles to serve as a simple feeder, regardless of the fact that Spike had been the submissive one in the act. These were facts both of them knew.

Giles didn't object this time but simply sat still and stone-like. Understanding that to be permission, Spike pressed the tip of his thumb into the point of the knife until he felt the prick of pain. He placed the wound to the Watcher's lips, smearing them red. There was a sigh and a hesitation before Giles closed his eyes and opened his lips to accept the digit, caressing it with his tongue.

It hit him with the same metallic sharpness he'd noted from when he'd bitten the vampire's ear, and then lapped up the blood during their earlier encounter, but this time he felt something else. It flowed into him and settled over him like a soft energy. His knowledge told him this was due to the fact that the vampire had taken his own blood and was processing it now, creating a connection between them. Like so many other things that night, it was both frightening but thrilling, and he found himself giving in, concentrating entirely on the feel of it as he eagerly sought more.

Spike knew the wound would heal quickly, and pulled the edges of the robe apart so that he could use the knife to inflict another on his chest, along the right hand pectoral, wincing as he cut deep. He guided the Watcher's head down then gently reclaimed his thumb. Giles mewled his protest but opened his eye and saw the new offering immediately. Not allowing himself the danger of thinking, he latched on, drinking deeply.

Stroking the hair and letting his fingers run along the other man's scalp, Spike felt the incredible heat coming from that suckling mouth against his skin. He'd felt that eager heat drawing from him before, with each victim he'd turned, but this was different somehow, and he felt himself grow hard instantly. It was a throbbing burn, tight against his belly, and the knowledge that Giles would be tasting it soon through the blood thrilled him. He knew the Watcher was hesitant to actually establish physical relations again now that they'd come to their agreement, but he also knew that given what he'd tasted earlier, it wouldn't take much to convince him.

Spike eased himself backward and up the bed, pulling Giles along with him until he was fully reclined against the bedspread, with the Watcher on all fours, leaning over him. Carefully, he let his hand trail down the chest until he reached the elastic band of the sweatpants. Giles found the wound was closing, and latched onto a sensitive nipple instead. Trying to stifle his moans at the attention, Spike kept his hand on the outside of the fabric, but pushed lightly against the bulge he found standing hard at attention.

Giles groaned and bucked his hips into that questing hand, causing Spike to grin. He slid his hand under the elastic but circled around to grab the tight ass pulling him down and foreword until their cocks brushed against each other through the loose fabric.

Giles understood and looked down into the ice blue eyes that sparkled up at him. "To forget?" he growled, grinding downward.

"Fuck yeah. Shag until we forget." Spike agreed through gritted teeth, seconds before that hot mouth sought out his own.

Moving to straddle a leg between his own for better access, Giles suddenly yelped and sat up. Spike raised himself on his elbows, surprised and a little hurt until Giles produced the knife they'd left lying on the bed. The Watcher climbed off the bed and stripped off the sweatpants, down over his flagging erection to reveal the damage to his shin which had actually been cut rather deeply and was starting to bleed profusely.

"Ah! Bugger," Spike growled. "Apologize for that."

"Well, we shouldn't leave weapons in the bed to be found in inconvenient ways. I'm going to have to bandage the bloody thing," he sighed. "Damn it."

Spike looked personally offended at the idea of a bandage. "`Bloody' indeed! And I hope you'll do no such thing. `Sides, since you just ingested some pretty quality vampire blood, if I do say so myself, it'll be healed up in an hour. Less if you let me have a suck. You'll never even know you had it."

"Oh, um, right," Giles said sheepishly as he returned to the bed, lying with his head near Spike's feet, to give the vampire good access to the new wound. He mourned the bedspread, but noting the red already dotting it, he figured it was already going to be a lost cause. "That fast?" he asked curiously. That would make it almost as powerful as Slayer healing; almost exactly in par with Spike's. He did notice though that his other injuries seemed less tender as well.

The vampire leered and grinned. "Well, it helps that I was damn randy at the time. Makes it more effective. Really, I think it's the sharing, though."

"You `think'?" Giles asked curiously.

"Well…this kind of thing, the way it normally works—a consort—it's private, yeah? You got one, you don't really talk about the details."

A moment of understanding passed between them, and the two men blushed a bit at the idea that this was a first for both. "Just don't be getting any ideas, and don't worry, cause I won't either. It's temporary, for as long as we both want it, and then it's over. Got it?"

The Watcher nodded, and the tension broke. Giles felt the wet cool mouth seek out the wound, and, to keep himself busy, reached down to stroke the underside of the hard cock that faced him, peeking out of the half open robe as Spike lay on his side. It twitched.

"Bloody hell!" Spike yelled, and Giles looked down to see the demon's face looking back at him, clearly with consternation. "Do you want me to forget and bite you?"

Giles smiled serenely, surprised to realize that the vampire's visage didn't disturb him; it seemed his mind had adjusted to the idea. "It wouldn't affect me half as much as it would you, so I don't see why it's any concern of mine."

"Fuck you, too."

The Watcher's grin grew wider. "That is the idea."

"Bugger!" he growled.

Giles reached under the tail of the robe to pinch the vampire's ass and laughed what almost sounded like a giggle. "Yes. That too."

"Oh hell," Spike said, then found himself laughing as well, causing his features to shift back to their human form. "If I'd known you're were gonna try and kill me…"

Giles ran a finger between the rounded white cheeks of the vampire's rear and circled the opening lightly, causing Spike to buck his hips. "Well, maybe if you gave me something to do while you were having your fun down there…"

Spike licked the blood that had welled up and then grinned back. "Well, I did tell you that every time you feed me…but only if you're good, old man."

Giles snorted. "Old man! Hell, you're practically a cradle robber, if we want to get into that."

Instead of answering, Spike sat up and readjusted his position so that all of him was now curled by the Watcher's legs, safely out of reach, then continued to suck the wound until it closed. This time, however, he did his best to keep the other man entertained, working his hand up along the inner thigh, tracing slight designs and skirting the genitals to stroke the lower belly. "Hold still, and then we'll have some real fun, alright, Rupert?" he said, every time he had the opportunity to speak. "I'll give you that knife, and then let you get me so excited that it'll be spicy and sweet sliding down your throat. But you move, and I go downstairs and sleep on that couch. That counts for touching yourself too," he commented as he saw the Watcher's hand move. "I'll leave you here to wank all alone."

"You wouldn't dare," Giles gasped, gripping the coverlet. He was shocked at how the feather-light touches were affecting him. He was beginning to throb for attention to his cock, his scrotum, anything, but aggravatingly, the hand that caressed him avoided these. Then he realized this was very likely punishment for when he'd denied the same sort of relief to Spike in their previous rut—different technique, but same maddening effect.

"Maybe not, but no reason to find out, is there?" The wet lips and tongue worked for a moment more, before Spike announced, "Wound's healing up, anyway. About done bleeding, so, if you're ready?" He finally condescended to touch the cock, rolling back the foreskin and taking a quick taste of the fluid gathered along the slit. "Maybe if you do well, I'll suck you off, after."

"Lord, yes."

"Then take this." Spike licked the flat steel of the blade, tasting the last of his companion's blood still on its surface, before holding it out as he shrugged the rest of the way out of the robe, discarding it on the floor.

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