TITLE: A LITTLE BIT MORE 2/4
AUTHOR: PhenDog
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!
FEEDBACK: PLEASE!!! Lay it on me at PhenDog@gmail.com Good feedback will be treasured, printed, and taped on my wall. Flames will be treasured, printed in large typeface, matted, framed, and hung with care on my door for all to see. Either way, you'll be encouraging me to write more! Constructive Criticism treasured above all else.
"Right then." Without warning, he sat up and let his features shift. Giles felt his heart skip a beat, and the blood rushed out of his face, but the vampire ignored him and bit into his own upper arm instead. Yellow eyes looked down at him, as a pointed pink tongue licked the dark blood off the fangs. "You feed first. Safer, like I said."
Knowing that if the vampire went overboard, he'd need the extra boost to replenish, Giles didn't argue. Instead, he pushed Spike back into the bed and latched on, licking and sucking at the torn skin.
It was always a thrill—something he couldn't quite prepare for—as the vampire's blood surged through him, re-igniting the bond they'd established the night of their first tryst. Giles tried to start slow, a mere brush of the tongue against the wound, but it overwhelmed him quickly, driving him onward. He pressed in harder, surprised by his own need as the red satin liquid slipped over his tongue, metallic and salty, almost spicy with the particular vampiric tang. Hungrily he urged it out, biting his own blunt teeth into the muscle as he drank. It was contrary to everything he'd ever been taught as a Watcher, and broke taboos coded into his very humanity, but he didn't care. It was a way to lose himself, and he let himself concentrate on it fully. The blood seemed to leap out to him, and Giles realized that Spike had made the wound deeper than usual and had used his own vampiric saliva to thin it out, increasing the flow—a gift of which he wanted to take advantage.
That fantastic living heat lapping at him, sucking at the dull throb of the wound was marvelous. When the human attempted his own bite where the fangs had entered, drawing the blood out almost as well as any vampire could, Spike moaned. His free hand found its way to the back of the Watcher's head, entangling itself in the hair and holding him there against the wound. "Drink deep, Watcher. Fuck, yeah."
Giles finally pulled back, breathless and panting, and Spike released his hold. The red that remained smeared across the man's chin, even after he'd licked around his mouth, made the vampire grin. "Liked that?" He pulled the Watcher in for a firm kiss, plunging his tongue in deep to taste the metallic tang of his own blood. He finished by licking the rest of the red from Giles' face, noting the feel of the clean-shaven skin he preferred. Inwardly he smiled. It seemed Giles had prepared before the group had even met for the evening, then—somehow anticipating that tonight would be one of those nights. Obviously if Spike had not requested the meeting, the Watcher would have, and that thought warmed him.
Spike had expected Giles to return to the still-open wound, but Giles just wiped the edges with a finger, cleaning up where the slowing flow continued to spill over the edges. "May I, Spike?" he asked, holding up the finger, bright red. "I know you're eager, but I've a sudden urge to play."
The vampire was eager, but he was also curious what the Watcher had in mind, particularly when he used that tone of voice. Besides, he understood; Giles wanted to let himself go deeper before completely relinquishing control. "Alright, but make it good. No wasting what time we've got, now."
"No, I'll be fair. This'll burn a bit, but I think you'll enjoy it." Spike watched as the line of red smeared down the center of his chest along the sternum, curious as to what new art the Watcher would decorate him with this time. Then Giles looked up and smiled dangerously before pressing his finger in the wound again, drawing a slight wince as the torn flesh complained. This time he started just below the well defined pectoral muscle on right and drew a line horizontally across.
Spike's eyes grew wide as he realized what the Watcher intended. Done in his own rather unholy blood, it wouldn't be powerful enough to kill him, certainly, or even do much damage, but it would be enough to make him take notice. Nevertheless, this game would be played by the same rules as all their others—he'd only have to say the word, and it would end.
Giles sat up. The cross was completed, and there was a moment of anticipation as Spike fisted the sheets—burgundy to hide the evidence of their couplings—and squeezed his eyes closed as he waited for the effect of the symbol on his skin.
Instead, the first sensation was something else. Unexpectedly, the heat of the human's mouth found his cock, enveloping the head, licking along the shaft, and before Spike even had time to think about it, he spread his legs and thrust upward, wanting to be taken further. Then it started, just an itch at first, growing increasingly uncomfortable on his chest.
Giles worked harder at fighting the discomfort with the giving of pleasure. He sucked at the foreskin, then let his tongue slip inside, tracing the corona, and lapping up the drops of liquid that had escaped from the slit. A finger slicked with more of the vampire's blood found its way to Spike's entrance and slipped inside, twisting in and out, and he could tell by the semi-incoherent mutters and cry of "Fuck, yeah," that his treatment was proving effective. Then he did something he'd not done for quite some time. Relaxing his throat and tilting his neck, he prepared to take Spike further into his mouth. Moving the finger in the other's anus so that it brushed against just the right spot, he got the vampire to buck his hips upward so that Spike slid in smoothly.
It was hard to tell which way to direct his attention, so, as the burn built slowly, tingling as if branded, Spike let his mind concentrate on nothing but his body, oscillating between the burn and the building desire, blending them together until they were the same thing. When the Watcher's heat engulfed him to the base, he couldn't help himself as he began to thrust hard, up into that mouth and down onto the finger, letting the demanding ache of his cock overwhelm that of the mark of blood.
With the first thrusts, it was so hard not to gag, but, eyes watering, he managed it. Giles soon adjusted to the punishing, frantic rhythm tickling his esophagus and began to use his tongue and lips to press against the shaft as it entered him, providing Spike with extra friction.
The muscles in Spike's arms were corded tight as he threatened to rip the bedding. The burning had swelled into adrenaline and endorphins, blazing across his chest until his entire body throbbed with a singular rhythm. The euphoria rose, swelling higher and higher…until he came in hard full-body spasms, unable to vocalize as the sounds died a shuddering death deep in his throat.
Giles kept his lips firm, swallowing repeatedly against the waning erection and trying with difficulty not to choke against the gouts of semen and the erratic movements. Using the finger embedded deep within, he drew out the orgasm as long as it would go, until the cock in his mouth grew soft. Then he remembered, and pulled back, moving up quickly to lick off the drying blood where the lines met. When the cross was broken, a tension seemed to go out of the vampire, and he sagged back onto the bed.
"Bugger. That was sadistic. And bloody intense. I'm not complaining, mind you…" he managed when he was capable of coherency. "You amaze me sometimes, Rupert."
Giles used a baby wipe from the drawer to clean the blood and fluid from the finger he'd used inside Spike, and then another one to clean up the blood on the pale chest, wincing at the angry redness that was revealed in the flesh. "It doesn't…still burn, does it?"
"It's fading."
"I wasn't even sure it would work, painted on, but I thought you'd rather enjoy it if it did."
"Hell yeah. Bleeding fantastic! Not saying it's something I want to repeat again, soon, but…"
Spike sat up, and Giles studied the wound on the vampire's arm, noting that it was nearly healed. He kissed it gently, the salty flakes of dried blood coming away on his tongue and melting in his mouth as he felt the edges of the wound finish closing under his lips. The healing effect they had on each other simply fascinated the Watcher, moreso when it was on his own body. Amazing that vampires could heal as well as harm. Then he remembered the chip was not in effect and hadn't been for the past half hour or better, and he was obviously still well. The difference in Spike was not so much after all, perhaps.
"Spike," he said softly against the skin, kissing slowly upward. "There are at least three and a half hours left…"
A strong arm held him close, surprising him for a few seconds before it let him go. "We'll make good use of them then, yeah, Rupert?"
By silent agreement, they both knew the vampire was in charge tonight, and for a second, Giles felt the anxiety again…but then it was gone. He suddenly realized how much he was anticipating it…all of it. "Indeed," he grinned. "How good is up to you, of course."
"Fancy giving me a challenge, eh," Spike leered back, eyes laughing, and voice mischievously ironic. "Might make you regret that, Watcher. You really ought to know better than to play with a Master Vampire, you know. What ARE they teaching you these days at that Council of yours?"
"I know some positively lovely tricks with holy water…"
"Nasty berk!" Spike rolled them over so that he was on top, glaring down with mock ferociousness. "Definitely time to teach you some lessons. First lesson…"