Rated: NC-17

E-mail: astarte@uia.net

Pairing: Giles/Spike

Warnings: Angst, mild BDSM

Disclaimers: The characters are the property of Joss Whedon, 20^th Century Fox, and Mutant Enemy. No copyright infringement is intended, and no financial profit is anticipated.

Spoilers: Takes place some time after "The Yoko Factor." Small spoilers.

Summary: Giles learns just why it is that Spike gets so easily under his skin.

Credits: Lyrics to "Love Lies Bleeding" by Bernie Taupin, Elton John, Goodbye Yellow Brick Road , Sire Record Company (1995); "I Feel the Earth Move," Carole King, Tapestry, Screen Gems-Columbia Music (1971); "Take It Easy," Eagles, Eagles, WEA/Elektra Entertainment (1972); "My Guy" by Smokey Robinson, Mary Wells, My Guy, Motown (1964).

Thanks to Ruth and Mike for love, encouragement, being here, and beta reading.

Feedback encouraged and welcomed.
 
 
 

Won't Get Fooled Again

by atara

Copyright (c) 2000
 
 

Part 1 of 2
 
 

Excerpt from the journal of Rupert Giles:

. . . It really irritates me the way he saunters in here like he owns the place, helps himself to a cup of blood from the refrigerator (and why is it that I keep a supply of blood in there? Am I expecting Angel to drop in?), and starts in on his constant mockery.

(Hmm. This wine is excellent. Must make a note to buy a case next time I go to Trader Joe's.)

And how was it he was able to turn us all against each other so easily? With the youngsters, I can understand it; they're young and insecure, and they're growing and changing. But me? Why do I let him get under my skin?

Yes, he saunters in here, drapes himself on the furniture . . .

(It's getting awfully hot in here, and I'm feeling, well, rather aroused. Must be the wine. And speaking of which, I could have sworn there was another bottle around here.)

Yes, he drapes himself insolently on the furniture, mockery in his very pose, and his eyes penetrating me, seeing under my skin.

(I'll just get up and open the window here and take a look-see for that other bottle of wine. . . .

Can't find it. I guess someone must have come in and drunk it. Well, there's some left in this one. Bottom's up!)

Bottoms, yes, that tight arse of his looks so very good. It's very irritating of him to have such a sweet arse. Draped on the furniture, casually sipping his blood as if it were the finest wine . . .

(Bugger! Why didn't I buy a case last time? And more of that excellent herbed brie and those chocolate-covered macadamia nuts and some candles. Why did I think of candles? Sliding into the antique candleholders so smoothly, such a tight fit.)

And he mocks me, "Rupes," he says, "you really ought to get out more." With a sneer in that voice . . . that voice insinuates itself under my skin and into my veins, heating them up.

Oh, I'm talking nonsense. I drink too much. That ridiculous peroxide hair of his, so undignified in a vampire his age. Now Angel dresses with a dignity befitting his age, but Spike tries to look like he's oh so cool.  And of course his skin is cool. [giggle] But then if he touches me, he's really very hot. [loud laugh] I'm so hot for him, I'm so hot for him, I'm so hot for him, and he's so COLD!" [snort, giggle] See, he's a vampire, and he's so cold.

(Wait, I must get my thoughts in order here. I have to piss. But how to get to the loo? There's some sort of odd earthquake going on in which the room turns around and around and around. I'll just walk very carefully . . .

Made it. I wish I could find that second bottle of wine. I'm feeling unusually tense and thirsty. Or maybe I should go to bed. But I'll never get up to bed during this spinning earthquake. I wonder if it's some sort of magical phenomenon. Must look it up. But not now. Lying down seems to be the thing to do now. I'll just carefully make my way to the settee and lie down until these earthquakes stop. I'll just look them up in the morning and make a trip to Trader Joe's and the blood bank. Of course, the blood bank. Angel might visit again, and one wants to be a good host. That's a good one. Coffee, tea, or blood? Coffee, Spike, or blood? Spike, Spike, or Spike? Oh, Jesus wept. Go lie down Rupert and get some sleep.)

***

Gliding silently and ferally into the room, Spike carefully inspected a snoring Giles, his body seemingly flung across the sofa, one leg hanging over the edge. The vampire carefully lifted up the leg and placed it carefully on the sofa and rearranged Giles into a more comfortable position. Then he removed Giles' shoes, gently took off his glasses, and covered him with a throw blanket. He sauntered over to the refrigerator, pulling out a bag of blood. "Rupes, Rupes," he murmured softly, while popping the bag into the microwave, "you're running low. Not very hospitable of you, is it?" Something caught his eye, and after pouring the blood into a mug, Spike sat down at Giles' desk. Sipping leisurely as he read, the vampire raised his eyebrow. After a few moments, a smile crept across his face until it turned into a delighted grin. "Well, fuck me," he muttered to himself, shaking his head. His snack finished, he washed and dried the mug and put it away before slipping out of the house.

***

Giles woke up feeling like a small rodent had crawled into his mouth and died there. He felt a bit puzzled, wondering where the blanket had come from and how his shoes had been removed. Odd, he thought to himself. He sat up carefully, one hand pressed to his forehead. He'd had too many mornings like this lately, but he hadn't entirely settled into a hangover routine. He sat holding his head and pondering whether coffee or a shower should come first. He wavered back and forth, pondering the issue, weighing the options, and exerting the full force of his intellect on the conundrum. Finally, he decided on coffee and then turned his mental energies to the question of how to stand up. That accomplished, he walked very carefully to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee, moving very slowly and considering each step with great deliberation. While the coffee brewed, Giles took a bottle of Tylenol out of the cupboard, poured several into his palm, and drank them down with a glass of water.

When he was on his second cup of coffee, the phone rang, and Giles cursed fluently. "Are you OK, Giles?" asked Buffy's concerned voice.

"Yes, yes, fine," he stammered. "Just tired, that's all."

They talked shop while Giles inhaled coffee whenever it was Buffy's turn to talk. He finally was able to make an excuse to get off the phone, feeling fortified enough to take a shower and brush his teeth. Feeling almost human again, he set out on his planned errands.

***

Evening. Giles felt restless and irritable, something nagging at his mind just beyond the border of conscious thought. He thought about the case of wine he'd bought, but he shook his head, remembering his condition in the morning. A thought flickered, something about a blanket he didn't remember getting, but he dismissed it. He paced. An idea came to mind, and he got his guitar out of its case and began tuning it, soothed by the routine. After clearing his throat a few times, he began to strum and sing.

The roses in the window box

Have tilted to one side,

Everything about this house

Was born to grow and die.

It doesn't seem a year ago

To this very day

You said I'm . . .

Giles' voice cut off suddenly as he noticed the peroxided vampire standing inside his front door. "You bleeding wanker, Rupert!" exclaimed Spike. "Elton fuckin' John?"

"Knocking. Have you ever considered knocking, Spike?" returned Giles in a strained attempt at a casual tone. He stood up and gently, but abstractedly, rested the guitar against his chair, his eyes fixed on the vampire.

"Too conventional, you know?" said Spike, with a hint of a smile and a momentary conspiratorial flash of his eyes.

"So did you come here to help yourself to a snack?"

"Oh I came here to help myself, mate, but not to a snack." Spike was suddenly immediately in front of Giles. He grabbed the human's shoulders and propelled him quickly backward across the room to the nearest wall. With a shove, he had Giles pinned to the wall and his mouth fastened to Giles'. Giles struggled, knowing it was an exercise in futility. As his efforts grew more determined, Spike pressed the length of his body to Giles', immobilizing him while he deepened the kiss, his tongue violently ravaging the helpless human's mouth.

When he broke the kiss, Giles stammered, "The . . . the . . . the . . . chip!"

"It can only mean one thing, mate," responded Spike, with a raise of an eyebrow. "I'm not hurting you. And that can only mean one thing. You want it, Rupert." He said this last in a surprisingly serious and almost tender tone. Then his face returned to a complacent smirk, and he added, "You really shouldn't leave your journal lying around--especially when you're pissed."

Giles sagged heavily, supported entirely by the wall and Spike's insistent body. "Shit," he muttered. "Shit shit shit shi. . ."

Spike was kissing him again, shifting slightly so he could feel Giles' cock hardening against his thigh. One hand slid down to stroke it, feeling it bulge through the fabric of Giles' pants. "I'm not hurting you, Rupes, am I? It sure seems like you want me to keep going."

A wave of lust surged through the human, and his head tipped up slightly as if to reach for Spike's next rough kiss. One voice in his head screamed, Rupert Giles, are you out of your sodding mind? but he said "Ah bugger it," with a resigned sigh. Whenever Spike looked into his face, he felt transfixed by a laser beam of focused energy. It coursed through his veins and set all his nerves on fire and penetrated into all his needs and cravings and desires. He had never felt anything like it, and how could he resist?

"I'll take that as a yes?" asked the vampire. He jerked his head toward the stairs, and Giles stumbled eagerly ahead of him toward the bed. His fingers shook as he tried to unbutton his shirt along the way, and once they reached the loft, Spike ordered, "Stop that now. I'll do it." Spike unbuttoned Giles' shirt easily, then moved around behind him to slide the sleeves down his arms, while stroking along their length. As he pulled Giles' shirt off him, he pinioned the human's wrists in one hand, holding them behind his back. He squeezed, just giving Giles a taste of his vampire strength, and Giles moaned urgently. Gets them every time, thought the vampire to himself with a smile. "Now get the rest off."

Giles hastily tugged at his clothes, looking warily at Spike, as if either he or the vampire might change his mind if he wasn't quick enough. Spike just smiled, one eyebrow raised, then lazily pulled his t-shirt off over his head and removed the rest of his clothes equally casually. Giles was sitting on the bed, looking admiringly at the pale muscled form in front of him, while he himself hunched over slightly as if trying to conceal his eager erection from view.

"Ah, stop it, Rupert," said Spike, pushing Giles onto his back and effortlessly swinging his legs around so he lay aligned with the bed, before flinging himself down next to him. "I hope you weren't looking for a slow, romantic seduction, mate, because that's just not my style."

"Oh . . . I . . . " Giles began to say, but Spike grasped him harshly around the back of the neck and pulled him toward his own mouth for a ferocious kiss, pressing his own to it so fiercely and plundering it for so long, that Giles had to gasp for breath when the vampire finally released his mouth. At the same time, Spike's hand restlessly roamed Giles' chest and roughly pinched a hard nipple into an even harder state. Giles whimpered a bit, and Spike winced.

"Tell me you want it like this," he gasped urgently. "I need to hear it."

Giles understood. "I w-want it like this, Spike. H-however y-you want me. Just don't stop!"

Spike's tense expression eased. Apparently the chip was activated by perceived harm, not pain that was coupled by erotic desire. Still, he wanted the damned thing out. He wanted Giles helpless with lust for the real him, not this castrated semblance of himself. The thought made him assault the human all the more roughly, biting Giles' lip and twisting his nipples, one after the other, with angry ferocity. Impatiently, he reached down to grasp Giles' cock in his hand. It was still hard, still eager, and Spike smiled. He didn't want him to come too soon though, and he had to find another channel for his aggression. Spotting Giles' dressing gown hanging up, he had an idea.

He leapt up, retrieving the sash, and returned to the bed. "However I want you, eh, mate?" he asked fiercely, and pulled Giles' hands up over his head. Giles had another one of those I-must-be-out-of-my-mind flashes, but the fear he felt only raised the temperature of his lust.

Swallowing hard, he forced an exasperated patience into his voice: "That is what I said, Spike."

Spike grinned. While tying Giles' wrists to the headboard he said "That's the stuff, luv! You are going to get the ride of your life."

***

Excerpt from the journal of Rupert Giles:

How do I explain this to myself? I would have done anything he wanted. I knew he couldn't harm me, but if he didn't have the chip, would it have been any different? When he tied my hands, I felt all the harder, and it was a good thing he did, because I would have never been able to keep still. No one has ever made me feel like that. The shock of his cold tongue on my nipples, and then he'd glance up at me with one of those little mocking half smiles. God, how he teased me. His hands and tongue were all over my chest and my abdomen. And the harder he pinched my nipples, the harder I got. It was utterly humiliating--I was begging and begging for release, and the more I begged, the happier he looked. "Oh, Rupert," he would mock, "is there something you want?" When his tongue touched my cock, it felt like electricity shooting through me. I think my begging had turned into a single long whine of "Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease!"

Finally, he slid his mouth over me, taking me deep inside. I started to thrust upward into that coolness, but he held my hips and pinned me down, so I couldn't move. He sucked me slowly, torturously slowly. I think that's when I started cursing him, quite fluently I might add. At one point he winked at me, and I struggled to get free of his hands, but he held me without an effort, never stopping his slow sucking, pushing my foreskin down and drawing it back up agonizingly slowly with every stroke. It was only when I surrendered, relaxed, and stopped urging him or struggling that he picked up the pace, stopping only to murmur "That's a good pet." It was degrading, being trained and conditioned like an animal, but I would have done anything to end the torture. He sucks with ferocious power, not surprisingly, and it was heaven, hell, and everything in between. It felt like he might suck my veins and the rest of my body dry through my cock, leaving me there a shriveled, but happy, husk. I can't begin to describe my climax; I think quite possibly the universe exploded and was remade in that moment. And I'm surprised the neighbors didn't call the police; I have never yelled so loudly.

I was still gulping for air when I looked at him and realized I wanted him inside me. I wanted to give myself to him like I've never wanted anything else before. And he seemed to read my mind. His cock was erect, weeping slightly at the slit, and I wanted it to claim me. I wanted--I don't know--to be possessed. By Spike! So hard to believe it was real and it happened. "You'll have to beg for it, mate," he said.

I stammered; it was so hard to admit what I wanted, "P-please take me, Spike."

"Not bloody good enough by half!" he snapped. "You're going to have to tell ol' Spike exactly what you want."

I could feel my face turning bright red, and he touched my cheek with a gentleness I wouldn't have known he was capable of, his fingers cooling my skin. "C'mon, Rupert," he urged more gently. "Spit it out."

I forced the words to my lips, "Please fuck me, Spike!"

"Too fuckin' right I will!" he answered, then ordered me on my hands and knees, with a degrading smack to my arse to hurry me up. He pushed me down on my elbows, and I was grateful, burying my face in the pillow. "Where's the lube?" he demanded. "Even Rupert Giles must have a wank now and then."

I pointed to the drawer, impatient, and more embarrassed than ever. He knew, and he pulled my head up by the hair and kissed me roughly, before moving behind me. He was surprisingly gentle, starting with one lubed finger, then another, and a third, stretching me. Then I don't know what came over me, but I suddenly just snapped, "Didn't I beg well enough, Spike? I thought I asked you to fuck me. Well, then, fuck me already!"

He laughed downright mirthfully, then said, "You asked for it, Rupert." I glanced back to see him quickly slick up his cock with lube, and then he pressed it against me. I relaxed myself, and he pushed inside. "Why you naughty little poofter!" he said. "You've done this before!"

I just growled and gritted my teeth. "I went to god damned public school, you twit!"

His hand smacked down hard on my arse. "Have some respect for your elders, you poof." Then he began fucking me. I think by then he was really in need because he didn't bother to torment me by going slowly. He grasped my hips firmly and slammed into me, and I pushed back against him with all the strength I could muster. It ached at first--his cock was so cold--and the ache spread all the way down my legs to my toes, but soon I must have warmed him up. He kept up a running stream of commentary until he came: "Oh, yes, that's a good boy, yes, just like that, oh harder!, open up for Uncle Spike, that's good, so tight, such a tight arse Giles, oh fuck fuck fuckin' yeah!, oh yesyesyesyesyeah, OH FUCK YEAH!!!!" Oh how he filled me and stretched me and was all ice and fire at once. His semen was cold too, and it poured into me with a shock, and almost before he was done he had reached his hand around and grabbed me, and I thrust into it for only a few moments before I came again.

God I'm sore. It feels . . . wonderful. I was shaking. I couldn't believe I was in bed with William the Bloody. But he didn't mock my fear. He actually pulled me into his arms and pressed my head to his chest. No heartbeat, but his arms were strong around me, and he soothed me with his cool hands. I don't know how long we lay like that, but at one point we had the same idea and looked at the clock. "I have to go, Rupert," he said, and while I wasn't happy about it, I understood. I certainly didn't want to have to explain Spike's presence to any of the youngsters if they came by. As he walked out the door, he turned to me and said, "Remember, pet, you're mine now."

WHAT?

I have no idea what he meant by that. I don't know if I want to know. I just know that when he said it, I felt reassured, reassured that he'd come back. I must be daft. And when I try to talk reason into myself and remind myself of all the reasons I should fear him, my desire for him grows even more. I must be absolutely daft. When he said that, my first thought was, Yes, that's right. I am. Jesus wept. I've lost my mind. But then who wouldn't when looking into those blue eyes of his and feeling his cool fingers setting me on fire?

***

The next evening found a gathering of the Scooby Gang at Giles' place. The former Watcher seemed more tense than usual, but muttered that he was fine when Buffy and Willow asked what was wrong. He was relieved when they left; there was nothing urgent that he had to deal with. Except his own nervous tension and lust. He was about to help himself to a glass of wine, when a voice behind him said, in a tone that sounded like it was chiding a child, "Uh-uh uuuuuuuu-uh."

Giles jumped, nearly dropping his wineglass. "Not tonight, pet," Spike continued. "I don't want to be shagging you when you're wrecked."

"Yes, yes, of course." Giles put the wine away. "I-I didn't know you'd come."

Spike sidled up immediately behind Giles, flicked his ear with his tongue and murmured, "Were you afraid that I would or that I wouldn't?"

"Both, actually," replied Giles with a nervous smile.

"That's a good pet," crooned Spike. He put his arms around Giles from behind, slid his hands up under his sweater, and lightly brushed his nipples through his shirt. Then he stepped back and swatted Giles on the behind. "Now bung some blood in the microwave for me, luv. I'm needing sustenance."

Giles shivered at the effect the vampire's touch and voice were having on him and moved immediately and almost without volition to obey. Spike chugged his blood, then lit a cigarette and leaned on the counter, looking languidly at his host. He raised an eyebrow and asked, "So did you think about me today, ducks?"

"I thought of little else," confessed Giles, speaking in an abstracted tone, most of his attention riveted by Spike's lean form.

"Welllllll," Spike drawled. "Then you'd best show me that you mean it, show me how badly you've been wantin' me." Spike unbuckled his belt, undid his jeans and shoved them down enough to free his cock. Then he pointed to the floor in front of him, pushed his duster out of the way, and picked up his cigarette.

Oh God, yes, thought Giles to himself, and he knelt immediately before the vampire. He grasped the base of Spike's cock in trembling fingers and lowered his head to it.

"Show some respect, pet," ordered Spike. Giles somehow knew that he was supposed to press a respectful kiss to the head of the erect penis before him. Spike took a long drag from his cigarette and then said curtly, "All right then. Carry on."

Giles began slowly, swirling his tongue around the firm, cool flesh and bending to take each of the balls, in turn, into his mouth. Spike leaned more heavily against the counter, but he continued smoking, looking for all the world like a man getting a shoeshine, not a blow job. Giles suspected that Spike's casual demeanor was mostly an act, but the vampire's apparent indifference made him flush with both humiliation and desire. His attentions to Spike's balls grew more insistent, and then he finally took Spike's cock into his mouth. He concentrated on the head, sucking it carefully, while his tongue dipped into the slit. Finally, he began sucking in earnest, his head moving back and forth.

"Oh, sweet Jesus," muttered the vampire, suddenly dropping his cigarette into the empty mug beside him. He grabbed Giles by the hair with both hands, holding his head still, and then began fucking his mouth hard and deep. Giles' prior experience served him well, and he relaxed his throat muscles, letting the invading cock all the way in. Spike apparently never came quietly. With an urgent and increasingly rapid patter of "oh yes good boy good-pet-good-little-boy ohyeahtakeittakeitformeohyeah!" Spike ejaculated into Giles' mouth and down his throat. Giles eagerly swallowed the gift and cleaned Spike off without being told to. Then he stayed on his knees, aware that he shouldn't move until ordered. Spike stroked his hair affectionately, then tipped his head up by the chin. "You've been a very good pet, Rupert. C'mon upstairs. Spike has a reward for you and that cock of yours. It's achin', isn't it, boy?" Spike's voice was rich and smooth and tinged with menace, and Giles closed his eyes for a moment, letting it flow over him. He nodded in response to Spike's question, and Spike easily hauled him to his feet. His legs were a bit shaky, and Spike steadied him up the stairs to the loft.

Both stripped quickly, and Giles didn't bother to try to hide his erection. "I'm going to let you fuck me, pet," Spike announced, and lay down on his back, spreading his legs and casually tucking a pillow under his rear, all the while with a half-smile on his face. As Giles got the lube, Spike said, "And don't bother stretchin' me, ducks. I may not have gone to any nancyboy public school, but I was given an education all right."

Obeying, and unable to avoid wondering about Angelus' role in Spike's "education," Giles quickly coated his own eager cock with lube, settled himself between Spike's legs, and pressed against the inviting opening. He slid inside with ease and began slowly penetrating the vampire. I'm fucking Spike! he thought to himself. I'm fucking Spike! I'm fucking Spike! Spike interrupted his dazed internal monologue by pulling him close and kissing him hard. That was all the encouraging Giles needed to pick up the pace.

He pumped hard into the vampire, dizzied and carried away with friction and a primal drive. Bending his head down, he sank his teeth, not thinking, into the vampire's shoulder and began sucking hard to leave a bruise. Spike gasped and grinned to himself, letting himself revel in the pain. Then he said, "So that's how you want it, Rupert, is it?"

He easily pushed the human off of him, leaving Giles frustrated and hard, but Spike easily flipped him over onto his back. "Is that what you want, my pet?" he demanded bringing his wrist to his own mouth.

Giles got his meaning, and shrank away in horror. "No, Spike no! Not that! God help me, I didn't mean that!"

Spike knelt up, straddling Giles' body. "Why not, pet?"

Giles was breathing hard, his eyes wide with terror. "It's the blood. N-not vampire blood!"

Spike raised an eyebrow. "Do you mean to tell me that in all your years of bein' a flamin' Watcher, you never fucked a vampire before?"

Giles fought to keep the tremble out of his voice. "I have news for you, Spike. My job as a Watcher was to help kill vampires, not fuck them."

Spike shrugged. "Your loss. Anyway, you're a former Watcher. You should try it, Rupert. It'd do wonders for your constitution Builds strong bodies 12 ways."

Giles was just shaking his head, having scooted himself up against the headboard. "No, I . . . no . . ." he trailed off.

"Oh bloody fucking hell, Rupert!" snapped Spike. "I'm not going to sodding turn you. Crikey. You would be the most insufferable vampire I could possibly imagine."

"Oh . . . " stammered Giles, "thank you ever so much."

Spike burst out laughing. "You are a treat, luv. Listen, I don't want to turn you." His voice turned gentle and serious, "But I do want to share blood with you. There's still a barrier between us, Rupert, and for a vampire, you can't have real intimacy without the blood. I want to be close to you that way, pet."

"I . . . I won't change?" asked Giles, beginning to be tempted.

"Of course you'll bleeding change! A little. Small changes. You'll be yourself, but just . . . more, and you'll see the world in a whole new way."

Giles closed his eyes. He could feel desire flaring through his veins, and his mouth watered. "Damn it, Spike!" he finally said. "Yes, yes. I want you. I want all of you, Spike."

Spike flashed a sunny grin. "Thank you, luv. It will be a privilege and a pleasure." Spike pulled Giles back down so he was lying on his back, and Giles felt a further surge of desire at Spike's strength, his easy handling of his body. Then he felt his legs being pushed back wide, and a pillow slid under his ass. Spike uttered through clenched teeth, "I have to be inside you. I have to have you, Rupert!"

He grabbed the always-nearby tube of lube, and hastily coated his cock. Giles was eager and impatient, and relaxed himself as much as he could, and Spike pushed inside him easily in a smooth stroke. It was cold, Spike's cock, and it filled Giles completely, as he noted the familiar ache in his calves and the curling of his toes. Spike then quickly opened up his wrist and brought it to Giles' mouth. Panic struck the human and he pressed his lips shut. "God damn it! Drink it now! You're mine, human, and you'll do as I say!" uttered Spike urgently as he forced his wrist against Giles' mouth.

A bit of blood seeped through Giles' closed lips and trickled down his throat. It burned, it illumined, seeming to light up every nerve. He swooned at the taste, sweet and bitter, and he felt the viscosity coat his tongue. "Oh GOD, Spike! Yes!" he yelled and fastened his mouth onto the wound in Spike's wrist, sucking eagerly.

"Good boy, Rupert," Spike crooned, as he bent his own head, the vampire features forming a surreal juxtaposition with the honey of his voice. Spike's fangs pierced Giles' neck, and Giles felt a shock of pleasure at the pain. He felt the strong pull of Spike's hunger at his vein, and he grew all the more eager to ingest the vampire's essence into himself. Sucking greedily and feeling the sharpness of Spike's fangs and the strength of his feeding, while Spike began to drive into him faster and harder than ever before, Giles began to emit a low growl, a sound he had never heard himself make before. He grabbed Spike's wrist between his hands and pressed it even closer to his mouth. The growling grew more insistent, as the cock inside him slammed into his ass. Ordinarily an assault like that would have left him bruised, bleeding, sore for days, but he could feel the added resilience he had already acquired from the infusion of Spike's blood.

Tearing at each other's wounds, feeding like animals, the lovers fucked deliriously. Giles growled continuously, and Spike moaned, unable to suppress the startlingly vulnerable sound. The moan turned into a growl to match Giles', however, as Spike thrust hard, with superhuman strength and speed, and came with a triumphant howl, cold seed flowing into Giles' body. Giles shuddered in response, climaxing hard, his semen spraying his partner's stomach. Spike's sucking on Giles' neck slowed and stopped, and he looked at the human, still dreamily sucking his wrist. "Giles, Rupert, pet, pet, you have to stop now," he declared with urgency. Spike pried his wrist out of Giles' gripping hands, while Giles tipped up his head and reached to catch the last drops.

A small moan of disappointment escaped him, but Spike tenderly pulled him into his arms and kissed him, his tongue plundering Giles' mouth for a taste of his own blood. Then he just held the human close, waiting for the reaction he knew would come. Overcome with the experience he had just had and terrified by his desire for more, Giles began to sob, his whole body shaking. Spike held him and stroked him, murmuring, "My sweet Rupert, my brave pet. I'll always be a part of you now."

***
 

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