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Chapter 2

Strangely, the reply Giles had prepared didn't emerge. Instead, he leant back a little and rested against the wall. 'I suppose I have to make allowances for the fact you can't see yourself in a mirror, Spike. But - I have to say - you are hardly at your most attractive. You're dirty, sticky and, frankly, rather smelly.'

This reply pleased Spike on a number of levels, so he didn't rise to what was intended to be a rejection. Instead, he leant back, too, and only said softly, 'Close your eyes then.' He was almost hypnotic, the eyes huge in his face. There was no hint of irony or malice, only a soft earnestness, almost…. Giles hesitated. Was Spike… aroused?

The intense blue eyes fastened on his made Giles' tired eyes flutter closed. He resisted, but it was easier just to close them for a moment… just to rest.

'You've got to picture her, human. Picture her naked on the bed. Her skin is so warm in the candlelight….'

'There are no candles.'

'Giles! Don't ruin it… you have to use yer bloody imagination - and can I just say, mate, maybe invest in some bleeding candles tomorrow? Birds love that shit. So. She's warm in the soft candlelight, and when you come in, she's lying on her back. She don't see you cus she's got her eyes closed, and she's thinking things… 'bout you… an' her fingers are working themselves in that dark mound. You want to get closer, to look closer, so you slide onto the end of the bed. She feels you then and grins, so you get closer and blow on her hand. It stills, and she moves it away. You capture her fingers and suck on them….'

'Oh, good God, bloody hell….'

'YOU SUCK ON THEM, and she moans, so you part her and bend down, smelling her muskiness, wanting it, wanting to taste it. You run your tongue up from 'er hole to 'er clit and swirl it around and around that soft tip. It's leaking slightly, and you can taste the salty… and you delve back into that soft wetness and reach a hand up to catch 'er tit. Her nipple's erect, and you graze the back of your 'and over it; it feels so good against the hard flatness… soft mound, and then you start to work her with ya tongue: slipping in, working around, pushing to find that… licking back to 'er clit, up, down, bite her, make her bleed…. Okay, don't bite 'er maybe, but she's ready; she's moaning for you, Giles; she wants you…. Oh, you off, pet?'

Giles left in a hurry, and Spike was about to grin at the excellent game that had staved off boredom for a while, when he looked down. He tipped his head back and cursed softly. He desperately, desperately needed a wank, but the chains were wrapped too securely around his waist to get access. Oh! Fucking hell! He'd forgotten to get some food, too!
**********************
When he woke thinking about Spike, Giles remembered his promise. He didn't know where Spike had been living so decided he'd better just buy him a few things. He'd never, ever, bought clothes for another man but found the experience strangely pleasant. He imagined he was just feeling paternal and didn't dwell on it too much. He tried not to spend too long wondering what colour shirt to buy. He tried not to spend too long looking at the jeans and thinking about Spike's waist or Spike's inside leg measurement. In the end, he asked for advice and took the size the girl suggested when he described Spike to her.

He left the clothes in the bags just inside the door and eyed the bathroom in the morning light with distaste. It really did need cleaning: the vampire in the bath even more so. He undid the padlocks fastening Spike's chains and, keeping a wary distance from him, allowed Spike to climb out of the bath. Spike did so slowly. He was obviously very stiff and took a while stretching off and massaging sore limbs. He turned to Giles. 'So?'

'So, take a bath.'

Spike sat on the rim. 'No, I meant… so?'

'Oh. Well, better I suppose, but I can't say… memorable.'

'You're underselling yourself, mate. I've been listening for the last hour - she's been moaning like a bloody trooper! You're doing something right.'

Giles gave him a look. 'Thank you. I've not actually been here for two hours. But thank you for that anyway.'

'Oh. OH! Hey, there ya go! See? She needed it after you'd got her all….' Even Spike knew that wasn't one of his best lies. 'Sorry, mate. I was all glad for you, but did think you were a bit quiet like at the time….'

'Just shut up, Spike. Take a bath. When you're ready, shout, and I'll… err….' He waved a hand vaguely at the chains once more, and Spike pouted slightly. Giles went out and locked the door.

Spike stripped, bundled up his clothes and, after a moment's hesitation, stuffed them in the laundry basket with some of Giles'. He ran the deepest bath he could lie in without splashing over the side - as hot as even his cold body could stand - and submerged under the water, just zoning out for while. His erection from the previous night had subsided into a pleasant semi-hardness that ached softly. He began to wash around, cupping himself and soaping over the shaft. Instantly hard once more at the touch, he lay back and just enjoyed the moment. Images flickered through his head: people, him, sounds, smells, skin, candlelight, soft laughter, surrender, manacles around strong, tanned wrists. He came to a shuddering orgasm and sat up in the bath, working himself off, his cum plopping softly into the water.

He hadn't realised how long he'd been until a soft voice just outside the door asked, 'Finished?'

Spike groaned and lay back, still overcome by the orgasm. 'Yeah….'

Giles came in.

'Bloody hell! Fucking get out!'

'Oh! God! You said finished!' Giles beat a hasty retreat and leant on the door, his heart racing. After a few minutes, he heard a soft ''K' from the other side of the door. He opened it to find Spike sitting on the edge of the bath, dressed in the new jeans and shirt he'd bought for him. They seemed to fit well, and Giles nodded, pleased with the colour on him… and why the hell did he just think that? 'Get back in the bath, Spike.' He knew he'd spoken unnecessarily harshly, but really, Spike could be so irritating sometimes!

'It's all wet.'

'Oh… bloody hell!' Giles picked up the discarded wet towel and threw it at the annoying vampire. 'Dry it then!'

Spike picked up the cloth between two fingers distastefully. 'Me? I'm your bloody prisoner, and I 'ave to dry me own prison?'

'Stop being melodramatic.'

Spike sighed and wiped the bath down then made a big show of climbing back in. Giles, ignoring the histrionics, chained him up again. 'How's about some food, pet?' This quiet request, inches from Giles' ear, was accompanied by a huge growl from Spike's belly. Giles chuckled at the sound and shook his head, but he went down and made an extra large mug of blood. He sat on the edge of the bath as usual and fed it to Spike. From this angle, Spike's eyelashes were huge. Giles had never noticed anyone's eyelashes before, but these were incredibly long. They brushed against the razor-sharp cheekbones as the vampire fed. Suddenly, Giles shook himself and coughed slightly. 'Err… would you like some books or something?'

Spike stopped sucking and sat back, licking his lips. 'Yeah, I would. Ta. What'ya'got? No intellectual shit like. Something with lots of explosions.'

'Uh huh. Lots of explosions. I'll take a look.'

That's how Spike spent another day of his captivity: still alone, but now with a stack of relatively interesting books. With that and the television, he was amazed how quickly the evening came.

This time, Giles appeared with more food early on, just before bedtime. He was still dressed and sat rather self-consciously feeding Spike. When Spike finished, he sat back and picked up his book, ignoring Giles. Giles took off his glasses and cleaned them on his shirttails for a moment. He played with the mug; he toed the pile of books.

Finally, without looking up from his reading, Spike said, 'You only have to ask, pet.'

'I think it's the least likely thing I would ever do, Spike.' Spike looked up at this and into the troubled eyes. He gave a small nod of recognition at the other's pride and said very softly, 'Close them again, Giles; you don't have to ask.'

Giles slid down to the floor and rested back against the bathtub. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, waiting for the soft voice to begin. 'She's getting ready for you now, Giles. She's undressing. You're watching her though a crack in the door. Can you see how slim she is, how pale? Run your eyes down the spine as she reaches up to take off her T-shirt. See how the whole body aches for your touch? She waits for you, standing, and you know what she wants, don't you? You slide in behind her and push her against the wall. She spread-eagles her arms and lets you mould to that hard body. And it's so cold: the muscles so hard and perfectly formed. You kneel down and part the cheeks. It's where you've wanted to be for so long, isn't it? Lick it, Giles. Lick that small, puckered hole. Does it taste good? Listen to the moaning. Slide your hands around and feel for the sharp hipbones; slide further into soft hair and run your fingers up the hard… wall until you reach the nipples. Play with them, Giles, as you suck at that hole. They've never been played with, and the moaning just gets louder and louder. There's a trail of dampness on the wall now - run your finger into it, trace its path, push harder, push in. There! You're inside that cool passage, and it's so sweet, so tight. Do you want to use something else, Giles? Do you stand and push your hard shaft in? I think you do, and I think you like the feel; I think you like the cool grip on your heat. Bury your face into the soft blond hair; say how good it feels, Giles; I want to hear you say it. Now push in, right in; push until you grind against that hard backside. You can't possibly hurt it. Thrust, Giles, work that hole; find that spot that'll send us both over the edge. Work Giles: sweat, groan if you have to…. Are you coming? Feel the swell….'

Spike debated whether to finish his story to the empty room, but there didn't seem a lot of point. He prayed the music would be turned on again but cursed when it was.

This time, Giles didn't wake to thoughts of Spike, for he didn't sleep at all and thought about him all night. He was thinking about Spike as he stood pressing into the wall with a warm, soft, dark-haired body in front of him. He thought about Spike as he pushed through a too tight ring of muscle and heard a hiss of pain. He thought about Spike when he pulled out, utterly unable to cum in that soft body, and he thought about Spike as he took himself to a swift release whilst fingering soft, fleshy folds. Mostly, he thought about Spike as the body next to him slept curled away from him, shut off, and angry.

Spike woke up to find Buffy looking down at him. He desperately wished he could find some privacy; he was so tired of being… on display. He grimaced at her. 'What the fuck do you want?'

'Information.'

'Oh, bloody hell. Piss off, Slayer, and where's Giles?'

Buffy raised an eyebrow. 'Busy.'

'Uh huh. Too busy to feed me?'

'Yes.' Then she added as an afterthought entirely to herself, 'Too grumpy.'

'Why?'

She hadn't expected Spike to be the slightest bit interested in Giles so, caught off-guard a little, said, 'Woman troubles. And did I just say that? Trouble with women. He's all bad-moody - at you too!'

'Me? Why me? What 'ave I done?'

'That's what I want to know. Spill. What have you been saying?'

As Spike could hardly tell her that he'd been spinning Giles intense sexual fantasies every night so the flaccid human could get off… or could he? Why not? That'd cause a stir in the chickens. That'd make 'em take notice of the fox. He sighed and just said neutrally, 'He's probably a bit sick of not bein' able to wash an' stuff.'

'I suppose.'

Spike was surprised - but pleased - when Giles made a reappearance again just before bedtime. He looked at the human's defensive expression and the mug of blood he carried.

'Didn't think I'd see you 'gain. Slayer said you were pissed at me.'

'I am, and you're not seeing me. There was no one else to bring you this, and I don't approve of cruelty - even to the dead.'

'Ah. Not liking my stories any more? Getting off without 'em?'

'I won't discuss this, Spike. Drink your blood, and shut up.'

Spike took a sip but leant back, rolling it around in his mouth for a moment. 'Maybe you should play a game instead.'

'Be quiet, or I'll take this back downstairs.'

'You want to punish her for last night - she wants to be punished.'

'Shut….'

'Just in fun, pet. No harm like. But think how she'd love to feel scarves softly binding her wrists. Tie her to the bedrail, yeah? That's it, pet, close your eyes and think how good it would be to look at that body all tied up. Do you think she'd struggle for you if you asked her? Watch the writhing; put a hand to the arms, Giles; feel those steel-hard biceps stretch and contract. They're yours now. All those muscles yours to control. Why not start to lick across that smooth chest? Find a nipple under your tongue and bite it to hardness. Does it graze you? Make it harder then; lick down to the belly button, and play there a while. Now part the legs, Giles. Find that soft, hanging… yer head down to look at the pale flesh. Take it in your mouth; you know you want to. Suck, Giles, taste that unique taste that binds you to this body. You know how to touch; just do it from instinct; give pleasure like you'd like to be given it. But think, Giles. What's really wanted? Not just pleasure. Bite! Yes! That's right! Again! Bite! Shit, that feels so good; can you feel the straining against those bindings? Bite again; make me cry out. I need the pain, Giles; I want it. And look, push my legs higher; it's just there, just where you want it. Thrust in, and let me enjoy the pain. Jerk off, Giles, and know you can never hurt me…. Harder, harder, cum for me, cum in me… I want you….'

Cold blood splattered and ran across the floor, as the mug shattered against the hard tiles. Giles started up with a cry. He looked at Spike. Spike looked back, but then jerked his face away, trying to hide his need. Giles looked down, astonished - not at Spike's need, but at his own. He fled with Spike's imagery filling his mind. He didn't even go into the bedroom but paced the living room all night, fighting incorporeal demons that he thought he'd long buried in the peace of a celibate life.

There was only one more night. The whole visit was something of a disaster. Although nothing of their night time failings was ever discussed or even alluded to - both being English, after all - the strain of the failure affected them all through the day.

Tiredness, worry, embarrassment, all took their toll on Giles, but worst of all was the almost uncontrollable fury he felt toward Spike. Conveniently forgetting the vampire's evident sincerity and his all too obvious pain at the sudden breaking of that last story, Giles told himself that Spike was manipulating him: making him impotent in a way.

He didn't know what to do. He couldn't go into that bathroom again, but Spike needed feeding. Suddenly, Giles smiled and rummaged under the sink. He held the tape in his hands. It was repugnant to his nature, but so were the images of Spike's body that had plagued his mind all day! As the lesser of two evils, Giles decided to tape up that seductive mouth.

He carried the blood in one hand, keeping the other with the tape out of sight. Spike did not look at him when he came in but kept his face averted. 'Not hungry.'

'Of course you are; you're always hungry.'

'Fuck off.'

'Err… it's my bathroom, Spike.'

''Xactly. So what the fuck am I doing in it? I wanna go home.'

'You don't have a home.' This seemed unnecessarily cruel, and Giles immediately wished he could recall the words. Spike just closed his eyes and refused to turn his head. Giles felt a little foolish now. He could hardly tape Spike up if Spike wasn't saying anything anyway. He sat on the edge of the bath and handed him the straw. 'If you don't drink this, there won't be any for a few days. I'm not running a bloody hotel here, Spike: feeding you only when you feel like it. I've made it for you now - so drink it.'

Surprisingly, Spike twitched up the corners of his lips. ''Pose you'll be telling me to drink it all up, or you'll send it to the starvin' kiddies in Africa, hey?'

Giles couldn't help a small smile. 'I might. Now drink up.' Spike did. This time, keeping his eyes raised to Giles' face.

'What's wrong?' Spike spoke around the straw in his mouth.

As much as he wanted to, Giles was unable to reach for the tape, given he was holding the mug.

'Don't speak, Spike. I won't hear it tonight.'

'I'm sorry 'bout last night, pet. I was just joshing you, 'k? It were all a load of shit. Shall I do it proper for you? Last night an' all. She'd like that; I know she would. She really, really wants you, Giles.'

'You've not even seen her; how can you be so transparently manipulative, Spike?'

'I don't need to see her - I see you, don't I? I mean….' Spike trailed off, sure of what he meant, but not sure that the human needed to hear it. 'Come on, promise, proper like.'

'I can't take much more….'

'She's sad, Giles, cus of what's been happening, and you want to make 'er feel better 'fore she goes. You want to show her that it's not her - that's it you… or me, maybe. And I'm sorry for that. I only wanted to help… don't know why, but I did. So, you take in a bottle of wine and just sit on the bed, talking. You know? That sense of it being just the two of you? Saying anything that comes into your head and knowing it'll be appreciated, thought about, and everything is funnier, everything is more serious, everything profound. You drink the whole bottle of wine between you; you feel so mellow, so happy for once, and the demons are all asleep. Who cares if you are different? Under the skin you're just the same - you're just need, and loneliness, and having so much to give to another. You take her in your arms, Giles, apologise about the 'oliday. Tell 'er 'bout me if you like - laugh together. It's important to laugh, Giles. Life's just a joke really, and if you don't see that, you'll always be the sad fuck who don't get the punch line. So, laugh, roll, play - let yourself go, Giles. Don't think 'bout me, cus that won't do you any good. You've gotta think 'bout her. You can 'ave her; you can't 'ave me… would never let yourself 'ave me, I think. So, go to her now, Giles…. Have her, just bloody have her, okay? Please, go to her. Giles, please, just go.'

Giles opened his eyes to find Spike silent with his arm thrown up over his eyes.

He left. If Spike thought any of that would help, he was very, very mistaken. Giles tried. He took up the wine. He tried to talk, but found her strangely boring and predictable. He didn't laugh, her sense of humour too obvious. He tried to roll, but she was too… herself.

They parted the next day at the airport like strangers. Giles was mortified. He could not look her in the eye. They did not kiss or exchange pleasantries, and Giles knew that he had lost an old and dear friend.

This nagged at him all day. He got increasingly angry and morose at the thought of her sadness and at the thought of the acute embarrassment he'd felt as she'd tried to stiffen him enough to push in, but could not. He was utterly humiliated by his impotence. He felt unmanned, unable to face even Buffy. How could he look her in the eye and advise her, when he was not really a man? How could he defeat evil, when he could not do the fundamental thing that even a vampire could do? By evening, Giles was not only angry, he was drunk - very drunk. Angry, drunk, full of suppressed hatred - it was not a good way to go up and feed Spike.

Spike recoiled slightly when Giles burst in spilling the blood and slamming the door back.

'Go away, Giles, now. Before things happen you'll regret.'

'What?' Giles was getting sick of this clever vampire manipulating him. 'Nothing is going to… happen, Spike. Don't flatter yourself. You're chained up and….' Giles seemed to notice the manacles around Spike's wrists for the first time and stared at them, clearly picturing something.

'Stop, human. Stop now, while you can. Giles! Shit. Listen… fuck!'

Whatever Spike had been about to say was lost in the blow to his head. Giles hit out, forgetting he had a mug full of blood in his hand. Bright red fluid went everywhere, ran down every surface, drenched Spike. Once more, Spike tried to calm Giles, but before he could even form a sentence, Giles caught hold of his chained wrists and dragged him out of the bath. He could not go far, caught by the chains, but far enough to lie pathetically over the edge.

Spike wasn't stupid; he'd been in similar situations often enough with someone far stronger, far angrier, and usually far drunker, and it never ended well for him. This time, he couldn't even fight back… but he still had his mouth, so he used it. 'Now, pet, come on… think, hey? Think what Buffy would….' It was worse than he'd feared. Even Angelus had never gagged him. Angelus had always let him scream.

The tape pulled at Spike's skin; it utterly sealed his mouth. He couldn't move, couldn't fight back, and now he couldn't even talk himself out of the situation either. There was only one thing he could do. He closed his eyes to the inevitable and waited for the rape to begin.

Surprisingly, he was suddenly hauled to his feet. Giles, undoing the chains that held him to the bath, pulled Spike out of the room. 'Come on. You wanted this, so I'm going to give it to you, and you know what, vampire? I want it just like you described.' He dragged the resistant vampire toward the bedroom, when Spike pulled back, giving hard, out of control jerks on the chain to hasten them to his goal.

'There. How does that feel, tied to the bedrail? Like that? Good.'

Giles undid Spike's jeans, chatting pleasantly to him the whole time. He was still soft, and this maddened him. What if he failed even this? It was unthinkable, intolerable. Giles became too frustrated trying to peel the jeans off and just ripped them down, revealing the long, pale legs, and that intriguing dark patch between them. Giles was surprised how dark Spike was, and then laughed at his own naivety. Spike didn't seem to like the laughter, and he began to writhe slightly on the bed. Giles grabbed the nearest thing that would cause pain and twisted, hard. Spike's leg shot out in an automatic response to the agony of having his balls twisted and caught Giles an unlucky blow to his groin. Giles winced in pain, but it was nothing to the muffled cries of agony from Spike, as the chip seared into his brain tissues. Tears on his face running down to soak the gag, Spike tried pleading with his eyes. Giles just made sure he didn't catch Spike's look and pushed his legs up, just as the fantasy demanded.

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