|Primary Characters:||Giles, Wesley|
|Warning:||m/m sex, non-con, violence|
|Description:||Giles is irritated by Wesley. He decides to confront his successor. A totally unexpected attraction arises between them.|
Giles buried his face in his hands. The last couple of days had simply been too much. Would his bad luck never end? Not only had he let Buffy down, he had also failed as a Watcher. It was no use denying it, the Council couldn’t very well have done anything else under the circumstances.
His removal from his position as Watcher had been just. That didn’t stop the humiliation from gnawing at Giles inside and out. That new boy – Giles,who had a vast vocabulary felt that words failed him. How could anyone be so young, so arrogant, so utterly unwilling to listen to the advice of his predecessor?
But somewhere deep inside Giles from his long buried Ripper days came a liberating anger. How dare they do this to him? If they felt he’d failed at his mission, why didn’t they try Watching over the Hellmouth? He’d like to see even one of them doing a better job than he had. And there was no denying Buffy had been one of the most difficult Slayers Giles had ever heard of. Then there was Faith –
Before he knew what he was doing, Giles was on his feet and on his way out. At this time of night, that wouldn’t be advisable anywhere in California, or for that matter London, and in Sunnydale – Giles never gave the risk a second thought. He would go and give that young fool a piece of his mind. Maybe that would clear the air a bit and make having to coexist with Wesley less stifling.
Whether it was luck or not, Giles made it to Wesley’s place unscathed and never considering the consequences of his actions, he raised his hand to knock on the door. It was a while until he noticed a doorbell. Sheepishly, he rang it and within thirty seconds or less, or so it seemed, Wesley opened the door.
It seemed Giles had caught his successor at an inconvenient time. At this time of night, Wesley apparently intended to go to bed. To Giles’ acute embarrassment, he couldn’t help but notice the young man’s state of undress. Wesley was only wearing a pair of – could this really be true? – jeans? No undershirt, as Giles would have imagined his younger colleague to be wearing. Obviously no shirt either. And those jeans – They were awfully tight. Was this what remained of Wesley’s leisure wear?
Awkward or not, however, Giles couldn’t let anything stand in his way. He had come to tell Wesley a thing or two and he would.
Wesley was staring rather short-sightedly at the man who was facing him.
“May I come in?”
“Uh – well, it’s – uh – late – and I was about to -“
Not until now did it occur to Giles that unlikely as it might seem, Wesley might not be alone.
“Do you have a – eh – visitor?”
A pale flush began to creep across Wesley’s face.
“Certainly not. Very well. I suppose I could – eh – give you a minute or two -“
Giles pushed past Wesley, evidencing behavior no one could have expected from the softspoken, mildmannered librarian. In the hallway, the librarian paused to await his at the moment unwilling host.
Wesley didn’t seem to know what to expect from this surprise visit which had come at a time when he was least prepared to entertain guests. At last, he could think of nothing else but to show Giles into his bedroom.
The young man glanced furtively around to find something – anything – to cover himself with, but unfortunately, he had yet to unpack all his clothes and the shirt he had so recently taken off was now lying discarded in the bathroom at the bottom of his clothes hamper. Nothing else could be seen in the tidy, sparsely furnished bedroom.
Something about the intimacy of the situation struck Giles and suddenly, he couldn’t take his eyes off his startled host. He had never before been aware of the fact that Wesley was actually quite attractive. Not that Giles had ever in his life been partial to men, young or otherwise. The time he had spent knowing, if not whole-heartedly liking Xander, had never prepared him for this – arousal he felt.
But he was still angry, and anger and desire merged into a wish to conquer, to force Wesley into submission. This too, was an alien emotion in the former Watcher. His attraction and affection for Jenny – poor, sweet, Jenny – did not, and had never contained this aggressive element. The attraction he had felt for Joyce Summers, and to be honest, still felt, was utterly different from this predatory hunger. It had been far too long since he’d known the embrace of anyone.
Wesley was looking around for his glasses and noticed nothing of the change in atmosphere. Keen observation of his surroundings did not appear to be one of his talents. Failing to find the glasses, he turned to face his predecessor, and timidly he cleared his throat to ask what had brought on this unexpected visit.
“Sir – Mr Giles, what can I do for you?”
Yes, indeed, what could the boy do for him. For once, there wasn’t a trace of hesitation in Giles’ mind. You can get on your knees and serve me, boy.
Instead of replying, Giles moved closer, so close that he could feel the scent of Wesley’s expensive aftershave. Mm. He smelled deliciously. One step closer, then one more. Now he was so close his breath scorched Wesley’s face.
Involuntarily, Wesley took one step back, but was brought up short by the wall behind his back.
“Mr Giles -“
The librarian’s voice came out more as a growl. With satisfaction, he noted how the ponce visibly shrank from his predessor’s approach.
Without wasting any more time, Giles closed what little distance there was between his mouth and Wesley’s and covered the boy’s lips with his own. Brutally, he let his tongue force its way into the warm, moist cavity.
He could feel himself growing hard against the rough fabric of the jeans. It felt wonderful. To enhance that feeling of well-being, he began to rub himself against Wesley’s crotch. Better and better. Giles could hardly remember a time when he had felt more satisfied with himself and the world. Perhaps when he had been known as Ripper, but not often since then.
Letting his tongue move in and out of Wesley’s mouth in imitation of another penetration, Giles could hardly wait to move on. For good measure, he bit down hard on Wesley’s lower lip before turning his attention onto more urgent matters.
There were far too many garments between them. Giles began to fumble with Wesley’s zipper. A whimper greeted this new development.
“Why are you doing this? Let me go.”
Now Giles raised his hand in the air, made a fist, then smashed it down on Wesley’s face. Tears filled the boy’s eyes, and made Giles feel omnipotent.
Now he’d managed to unzip the jeans and began to pull them down. When Wesley tried to move away from him, Giles followed up the first punch with another, this time to the boy’s abdomen.
“I told you. Don’t say anything. Don’t move. Don’t do anything I don’t tell you to. Is that clear?”
The incoherent mumbling in reply to his statement provided a much needed excuse to once again use violence.
Those nipples looked awfully tempting. Giles began to cruelly pinch and twist one of them, until it turned a highly satisfaying red.
No more protests followed, only subdued sobbing from time to time.
Excellent. Why had he ever sought to suppress this side of his personality?
Now the jeans were lying crumpled up at Wesley’s feet. Giles impatiently pulled the younger man along towards the bed. He couldn’t take any more waiting. Giles pushed Wesley down onto the bed, on his back, facing upwards. Once he was satisfied with the boy’s compliance, Giles got up on the bed, and straddling the face, he began to rub his erection against Wesley’s mouth.
Again, it appeared as if Wesley had objections to the exercise at hand, and Giles gratefully seized the opportunity to pummel the boy’s face and abdomen.
“I’ll only say this one more time: Open up! If you don’t, I can’t be responsible for the consequences.”
An unappetizing mixture of blood, tears and – eew – snot was running down Wesley’s face. Blotting out the sight, Giles began to thrust into the now open mouth. He contemplated issuing a new order, one to assume a more active role, as it were, but decided that it would be far too strenuous to attempt to instruct the boy in the fine art of giving head.
Pensively, Giles withdrew again. What next? Part of him wished to simply end this by shoving his way inside the boy’s rear end and finally know the fulfillment of penetration. However, something was holding him back. It could not be described as concern for Wesley’s welfare. The fires of anger were still smouldering away inside what was now for all intents and purposes, Ripper.
Giles lay down beside Wesley and regarded him speculatively. What would be most pleasing? Eyeing the boy’s chest, Giles suddenly experienced an overwhelming lust to further explore those nipples. His face moved down to meet the smooth hairless chest, and his mouth latched onto the already bruised and tormented nipple. That one looked far more appetizing than the other. As an afterthought, Giles began to manually work on the latter in preparation.
He let his tongue idly flicker across the red, sensitive skin. Though he had on occasion explored women’s nipples, something about this turned him on immensely. He applied more suction and the wet warmth must have stirred up something inside Wesley. The sobbing appeared to cease and instead the boy’s breathing picked up. So this was his vice? It would never have occurred to Giles. Not that he’d ever imagined he himself would be prone to this – boarding school affliction.
The sucking was getting Giles harder still. Now he let his hands slide down to find Wesley’s dick. It came as no surprise that it was now considerably harder than it had been when the young man was first stripped. Smiling, Giles began to work Wesley’s dick and he was rewarded by the increased moaning. Just to show his power, Giles let his teeth nick the nipple he was hard at work sucking out of shape.
There was a corresponding limpness in Wesley’s dick, and the sound of his indrawn breath told Giles he had been successful. But he had no wish to interrupt proceedings this soon. So he returned to working the once again hardening dick, but left the nipples alone for the time being. He was rapidly getting bored. Though it was undeniably a novelty and a major turnon to feel another man’s penis in his hands, this wasn’t enough. He wanted more. But what?
“Touch me. Go on. You know how to do it, don’t pretend otherwise. Answer me.”
Wesley appeared to have a hard time getting the single word out.
“Do you or do you not know how to play with yourself?”
“Good. Now do it for me.”
Keeping his eyes averted, Wesley hurriedly complied. The very eagerness with which he undertook the procedure turned Giles on almost as much as the actual rubbing. Unable to keep himself in check any longer, Giles let himself go.
“Faster. Harder. That’s it. Harder.”
At the moment of release, he closed his eyes and let out a scream. He could hardly remember coming so fully, so completely.
There was a moment of disorientation. Giles opened his eyes to look around. Something didn’t feel right. Where was Wesley? Come to think of it, what had become of Wesley’s room?
With an aching sense of disappointment, Giles realized that he was lying on his own bed, alone. His hands felt sticky and he realized that the only one who had been fondling him, had been himself. This wasn’t entirely unprecedented. Giles could hardly count the nights he’d been lying like this, by himself, imagining himself in the company of Jenny, Joyce or – basically any woman.
But where had this disturbing reference to Wesley – or for that matter any man – come from? That at least, was entirely new. The anger he felt was hardly surprising, but the desire? Was he losing his mind? Had the loss of his position as Watcher done this to him? Sadly shaking his head, Giles turned over in bed, hoping to catch some sleep before morning.
The following day, it was harder for him to maintain his aloofness towards the young man, and perhaps it was his imagination, but it did appear as if somehow Wesley had changed his attitude towards his predecessor.
From then on, their coexistence flowed just a bit more easily. Giles felt ashamed of his initial anger, and resolved that in the future he would try harder to keep it in check.
Then came another day, or rather night, when they were tired from first spending days on end, perusing the library in preparation for a major attack from the undead, then at last, joining the Slayers and their friends for a final, desperate stand.
For some reason, the two Watchers, the present one and the former, were left to their own devices, abandoned by the younger generation, and forced to tend to each other’s wounds. Fortunately, neither man was severely injured and the first aid kit at Giles’ flat proved sufficient for their needs.
What was not as easily resolved, was the awkwardness with which Giles approached his successor. Somehow, his hands made clumsy mistakes as they attempted to clean, then bandage the wound on Wesley’s chest. Embarrassed, Giles found words hard to find and he merely laughed uneasily by way of excuse.
Wesley appeared no less ill at ease, as he began to tend to Giles’ bruised knuckles, then proceeded to give attention to the crushed lower lip, which was by now swollen and painful. Giles pulled back violently as Wesley’s fingertips brushed his lip. Misreading the reaction, Wesley hurriedly offered an apology.
“I’m sorry, sir. Didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Oh, that’s quite alright.”
Now Giles remembered that it had been close to 24 hours since their last meal, and not only was he literally starving, his mouth, painful though it was, was parched. Perhaps it was no more than simple manners to offer Wesley some refreshments. There was that bottle of Riesling that was lying around somewhere and if he wasn’t mistaken, Joyce Summers had left a few frozen dinners for him. Apparently, Buffy had taken notice of his lack of appetizing provisions and mentioned it to her mother.
“Uh – would you like something to eat? And a drink perhaps?”
Wesley warily eyed the librarian and appeared to take his offer under consideration.
Giles was annoyed to find how much he was looking forward to the younger man’s reply. What was wrong with him?
“That would be lovely. Thank you.”
“Won’t you have a seat? I will -“
Giles awkwardly indicated the kitchen.
The room was filled to overflowing with piles of books, manuscripts and the odd weapon or two, not to mention – Giles – winced as he noticed – some garments lying around in a state of disarray. How mortifying. His face took on even more color as he watched how Wesley sank down on the couch. Those legs – those biceps –
At that point, Giles fled into the kitchen to fulfil his promise. He reappeared only minutes later, carrying the bottle of Riesling and two glasses. His hands were shaking so badly, he dropped one glass, which shattered on the floor.
Wesley rose to offer his assistance in clearing up this minor mishap. At least that was what Giles was assuming. However, the look in Wesley’s eyes as they locked on to the older man’s gaze took Giles’ breath away. There was a pleading, a helplessness stamped all across the young man’s handsome face that drew Giles in.
“Mr Giles -“
Giles was stunned to find that his voice was husky and brittle, all at the same time. Wesley’s voice on the other hand was high pitched like a boy’s.
But words, after all, can be pointless. Neither man knew which one of them initiated the kiss. Afterwards, all they could remember was the feeling of inevitability. It was as if everything fell into place, once they had stopped fighting the powerful attraction that had pulled them together. Giles noted that this more gentle kiss was infinitely more rewarding than the brutalities of his dream.
Weak from the night’s slaying, not to mention the previous days’ and nights’ of neglecting meals, made their legs feel strangely lifeless, and they collapsed together on the couch.
After what seemed like hours, Giles regretfully pulled away slightly. Anxiously he scanned Wesley’s face for any signs of regret. The young man appeared no less anxious, an emotion his next words evidenced.
“I – Forgive me. I don’t know what got into me.”
“Don’t apologize. Never apologize. I have no regrets. Have you?”
Wesley opened his mouth, then closed it again. Then he appeared to come to a decision.
“No. No regrets. But – I’ve never felt anything like it in my entire life. Not even in school. What about you?”
“Never. This is the first time. I have been in love before of course, with women, but never like this.”
Giles was stunned to find that he was smiling, and at last relaxing. After all, how different could it be? Man – woman – after you’d seen the horrors of the Hellmouth, perhaps it was no wonder you sought refuge in any arms that were waiting for you. And somehow, Wesley seemed to fit so perfectly into his own embrace.
More decisively, more deliberate now, Giles pulled Wesley back into his arms. Again, they kissed for what felt like an eternity. This time, it was Wesley who pulled back.
“I – I don’t know how to – I’ve never -“
“Surely you’ve been with women -“
Wesley’s face colored nicely.
“Of course. I just meant -“
“We’ll figure it out together. Don’t be afraid. I would never hurt you.”
Giles considered adjourning upstairs to bed, but decided against it. This couch would do nicely. Suddenly, he wasn’t a bit tired anymore. They had an amazing journey of discovery ahead of them, and the Slayers and the undead would simply have to wait.
“Wesley, I think – I think I love you.”
“I love you too, Rupert.”
Wesley sounded surprised at his own words, so he repeated them, this time with a little more conviction.
“I love you.”