Behind Closed Doors

Chapter Twelve

Giles stirred beside me in the crypt and I looked across at him. Six months...been some changes but no regrets. He brushed his hand across mine and then we began to get dressed.

“Ready to go back home?”

“If you are. Seemed quiet out there, thi think we can skip any more patrolling. Nothing you need from here?”

I glanced around and shrugged. “No; I’m ready.” We walked to the door and I stopped him. “Giles?”

He turned his head. “Yes, Spike?”

“I love you.”

He blinked and looked at me. “You’ve never said it quite like that before,” he said softly. “Those exact words.”

“Tell me? Please?”

He brought his hand to my lips, running his fingers over them and then slipping his hand behind my neck and pulling me to him. “I love you.”

No regrets.


***

I watched Giles sleep, a few weeks later, chewing my lip, trying to make up my mind. Giles had rules about when he was to be woken and how; never before the alarm, unless I wanted him in a bad mood, and if it was after, and I’d let him sleep in, I had to make being late for work worthwhile. I guessed, this being Christmas, he’d let me off waking him early, especially if I made the how as good as I could. He’d ended up sleeping facing away from me, sprawled out on his stomach. I eased the covers off him, studying the bruises left three nights ago when a demon slammed him hard against a wall, and pulled them down even further until his arse was bare. No marks on that, though I’d have given a lot to have been able to leave some. He made a sleepy, grumbling noise as the cool air tickled him and I grinned. Awake. If he’d really still been asleep he’d have – a hand lashed out and grabbed me by the wrist and he spoke without opening his eyes or turning his head.

“It’s the middle of the night, Spike. If the house isn’t burning, your backside will be.”

“And happy fucking Christmas to you, too.” I said.

The grip on my wrist tightened. “Rules don’t apply today? Is that it?”

“You tell me.”

He rolled over, blinking his eyes and grinning up at me, looking sharp and edgy and fucking sexy. “Some do.”

Slid his hand behind my head and pulled me to him for a kiss, making it hard and making it sweet. The kiss ended and I started to move, wanting to show him what I could do when I put my mind to it. Stopped me, giving me one last kiss, nipping my lip with his teeth. “Lie back and think of England, Spike. Or don’t you want your first present?”

Caught me by surprise, and I let him push me to my back and move down my body, his mouth eager and warm, getting to where he wanted to be but taking the long way around. His mouth closed around my cock and I just managed to ask: “Are they all going to be like this?” Couldn’t talk after that. Not with his tongue swirling around and my cock hitting the back of his throat every time his head moved down on it. It wasn’t that he never did this to me, but not like this. He did it his way; staying in control and making me stay that way too. Now it felt more as if he was just giving me the chance to decide how it happened.

Felt him chuckle, which made his teeth scrape down the sides of my shaft. Too good to bear, and I reached down and put my hands on his head, holding it still as I rocked my hips slowly, fucking his mouth nice and easy, wishing I could reach more of him. He’d taught me to be patient over the months and I didn’t rush and he didn’t try to make me. I felt his face flush hot between my hands and spread my legs wider. “Use your hands, Giles” I whispered. His hand cupped my balls, rolling them and tugging gently and I felt them tighten. Then his finger slipped back and nudged against me, slipping inside just a litand and I stopped caring about patience.

After I came, after the darkness got starry and he took every drop, I said, “You didn’t forget about us changing places sometime then.”

I hadn’t been ready for that in the summer. Not ready for moving past what we had when it was working and I could see him getting back that certainty that let him deal with everything that came at him and stay Giles, stay whole. Not ready to risk losing what we had. I’d gambled away money and never cared what side the die landed on, or what picture smirked up from a flipped card, but I wasn’t risking losing Giles. Fuck. I’d be warming his slippers by the fire at this rate...

He nodded. “You said, ‘Not now; maybe at Christmas’. I decided that would do nicely.”

I ran a hand over his chest as he lay beside me. “So you’re mine for the day?”

Felt him smile even though I don’t know how I knew. “Yes and no.”

“Huh?”

“I am, but I suspect you might be hampered by our visitors?”

I stared at him. “Oh, fuck, Giles. That’s just cruel. Can’t we do this tomorrow instead? Once they turn up, it’ll be hands off, right?”

“No. Has to be today. I’ve got plans for tomorrow.”

“What?”

“You’ll find out.”

He looked solemn but he was holding back a grin. I snorted. “Fine. I’ll get it out of you another way.” Wrapped my hand around him and started to move, loving the way he arched up into my fist. Stopped about three seconds in. “What’s going on?”

“Don’t stop,” he said. Pause. “Please?”

When Giles is meek, I know I can’t trust him. Never. I growled and jerked him off so hard the chip sparked faintly in a warning. Pity. He was making some lovely noises, whimpers and moans, chanting my name... slid down and used my mouth on him instead, finishing him off, feeling him flood my mouth as he came hard, heels pushing down against the mattress, fingers curled into my shoulders deep enough to mark me.

We lay still for a while, and I listened to his hammering heart slow down and steady and forgot about tomorrow, plans and visitors. Our eyes met and we grinned at each other. Still early, but it was one of the best Christmases I’d had in more years than Giles had fingers and toes.

He flicked on the bedside light and squinted at the clock. “Nearly nine,” he said. “Not so early, after all.”

He reached into the drawer in the table by the bed and pulled something out. A flat box in a dark wood, unwrapped. He hesitated and then placed it between us.

“What is it?” I asked, feeling the uncertainty coming off him. Giles didn’t do uncertain, not with me.

He looked at me. “You might not want this. It’s not something I’d force on you but we’re coming to the end of our arrangement, aren’t we?”

I stared at him, trying not to react. Giles wouldn’t tell me he wanted me gone, not like this, but what the fuck was he – oh.

“It’s been almost six months?”

“More or less.”

I thought back to the night in the crypt when I’d challenged him, kept him with me – with us, and the way I’d set it up.

“I bet in six months I can make you want to live again. If I lose, I’ll help you die; even fix it so you can go out against a real big nasty and I’ll lie to them all so they won’t know you did it on purpose.”

So, if the time was almost up, well, I knew he didn’t want to die, but where did that leave me? He’d told me he loved me but I’d heard that before from people who’d walked away from me.

The warmth of the bed and his body beside me wasn’t enough to stop the chill from spreading. “Got to know, Giles. You sending me away? You want this to end?”

His eyes went wide with astonishment. “I must be remarkably poor at showing my emotions, if that’s the impression I’ve given you,” he said.

Smiled at him, still feeling as if I’d been drenched in ice-water. “Then this is either my own door key...”

“No.”

“Or a collar.”

Don’t know where that guess came from, but it stopped being a guess as soon as I saw his reaction. I watched his hand tighten around the box for a moment then he flipped open the lid and I looked at the black curve of leather and the dull gleam of a silver buckle.

“Why did you get me this, Giles?”

He tilted his head and looked at me. “Because you’re mine, Spike. I wanted you to have something tangible to remind you of that. I don’t expect or even want you to wear it in public, but even if you choose not to wear it, if that’s taking this further than you want, I’m still going to fuck you once with it around your neck, Spike. Because that’s been all I’ve been thinking about since I got it, to be honest.” He let one finger slide across my throat, the rough skin on the finger tip from playing the guitar, catching and dragging, making me lift my chin, inviting more. His whole hand closed around my neck, holding me without force, and I closed my eyes until it slipped away.

Then I picked up the box and took out the collar, feeling the leather, supple and ng. ng. It was smooth against my hand, heavier than it looked, and I still couldn’t speak, couldn’t say anything. This was Giles telling me that it wasn’t going to end, telling me that he wanted me and I was lost. If he’d sent me away, told me he could manage without me now, I could have been angry, hurt but I’d have known how to deal with that. Nothing new abouelineling rejected. Everything new about being wanted.

Giles sighed. “Or maybe I’m not. Forgive –”

“Shut up, Giles.” The words came out, hurting my throat because it was closing up with tears I wasn’t going to let him see, and they had to fight past them to be heard. “You don’t say that, ever. Not when you’re telling me you want me. You want to fuck me when I’m wearing your collar? Do you know how that makes me feel?”

He shook his head and I was on him, pushing him back, my hands slamming down beside his head. “Owned, Giles. It makes me feel fucking owned.” I ghosted a kiss against his lips even as I thrust forward, rubbing my cock against the groove between his hip and stomach. “Does this feel like I hate that idea?” Carried on with the whispered kisses and hard, sliding sts sts of my cock until he was moving his head, trying to get to my mouth. I let him, biting down as much as I was allowed. “Does it, Giles?”

“No,” he whispered. He kissed me then, one hand around my back, the other busy, reaching for tottlottle of lube, slicking up his fingers one-handed. I felt cool fingers against me, oiled and slippery, and cried out as his hands pulled me open and slicked fingers slid deep. Then he held his cock steady and guided me so that it was resting against me in a moment that seemed never ending as the pressure built. He slid inside me slowly, inch by inch. I didn’t want it slow, not then. He pushed up into me again, just as I slammed down and the pain was swallowed in the pleasure, feeding it like kindling feeds a flame and we were moving together.

The collar was lost in the covers but it didn’t matter. I didn’t think Giles would make it into a ceremony when he put it on me – not his style at all – and neither of us was in any state to be fussing with buckles. Then my hand brushed against it and I came, howling, at the touch of the leather and felt Giles writhe under me as he followed me.

I lay against him, feeling his arms holding me, not letting go. After a while he said, “I didn’t mean for you to feel owned, precisely, you know.”

I leaned up on my elbow and looked down at him, reaching out to stroke his face, making it gentle. “No? What then?” Didn’t matter. I knew how I felt.

He turned his face into my hand and kissed it. His mouth was warm, lingering against my palm and then he moved his head enough to murmur, “Loved.”

The moment hung, as fragile as a glass ornament on a tree, and then the alarm went off.

“What did you set it for?” I grumbled, almost grateful that we’d moved past the emotion. “Even Anya can’t expect you to open the shop today before you cook her Christmas pudding for her.”

“Because I had a feeling that this would happen,” he answered. “Us in bed, not wanting to get out of it; five people about to arrive, laden with presents and expecting dinner at some point before the sun sets. I’ve got a turkey to cook.” He rolled out of bed and reached for his robe.

I knew why they were coming and why he wouldn’t let me persuade them not to; first Christmas after Buffy’s death, too many memories, have it at Giles’ instead; understood it just fine. Still hated it happening. Giles was looking at me, resigned, a little bit of the gilt rubbed off his gingerbread. Oh, fuck it.

I went over to him, kissed him hard. “Where’s a blizzard when you need one? If I can’t do this much when they arrive, expect me to make the most of you now.”

He kissed me back, taking his time. “If you’re not too full to do more than sleep, they’ll be leaving well before bed time, I’m sure.”

“Harris won’t leave while there’s still an After Eight in the box,” I predicted. “So, how much time do we have?”

“I told them to come around eleven. Thought we could have breakfast in bed but ...”

“I think we did,” I said, getting the eye roll I expect“You“You have the first shower. I’ll...I dunno. What do you do with ckincking, frozen hunk of meat anyway?”

“It’s notzen zen anymore and you do what I did before I came upstairs last night. It’s all ready; just needs taking out of the ...” He paused and looked at me doubtfully. “You have the first shower,” he decided. “I’ll start it off. How are you at peeling potatoes?”

“Terrible.”

“Good. You’ll have an ideal opportunity to practice. I want mashed and roasted so we’ll need plenty.”

“Giles...”

“Yes?”

“Don’t you want your present?”

He paused, letting the hurry and stress drop away, and smiled at me. “You have a – I wasn’t expecting you to – well.”

Loved seeing him like that, all pleased and confused. “It’s not much. Tell you what; let’s get ready first and –” He glared at me, folding his arms, and I grinned. “Were you like this when you were little? All impatient?”

He reached for me, hands sliding down my back, bending his head and biting at my shoulder, just where he knows I like it, just hard enough to hurt. “I’ve learned to wait.” Not wrong there. “Doesn’t mean I will.”

Took a gamble. “Oh, you will.” I took a fistful of hair and pulled his head up, then craned my neck to look at the marks his teeth had left. “You can kiss that better, for a start.” His eyes widened as if he hadn’t really expected me to take over his role for real, but he shifted his shoulders in the smallest of shrugs and kissed me obediently. After that, he arched his neck as if he expected my hand to fall away. It didn’t. “And I think, as time’s running short, we’ll shower together.” He looked as if he was going to argue; there wasn’t really enough room for both of us in there, but I laid a finger over his lips and shook my head. “No more arguing, Giles. We’ll be ready for them when they come, and you’ll get your present before they do, but for now? You’re mine.”

Waited, letting my face look calm, not allowing the possibility that he would disobey to cross my mind.

“Yes, Spike.”

I let go of him and kissed him lightly, approvingly. Then I undid his belt, walked behind him and pulled his robe off. Felt soft in my hands, warm from his body and I wondered if he knew how often I curled up with it in my arms when he’d gone to work, needing it to let me go back to sleep. I put it on and told him to fasten the belt, enjoying seeing his fingers fumble with the knot. It was a little big on me and I had to roll up the sleeves.

“Walk down the stairs in front of me. Slowly.”

He shuddered and his head dropped just a little. Didn’t need to look to know how hard he was. I’d felt it happen when I stripped him and I knew he was imagining the view I’d have in a moment. So was I. Could keep him naked all day and never get tired of looking at him, of touching him, light, soft, little touches when he was blindfolded until a feather felt like a strap, until the scrape of a fingernail was cause for crying out in shock.

Would have too. Would have done so fucking much to him and with him. Would have made this – ah, hell with it. He wanted turkey, he’d get it. Eventually. There was just enough time; wasn’t like they’d starve if they ate an hour later...

“Off you go, then.”

He set off in silence and I let him get half way down the stairs before I halted him, resting a finger on his shoulder. “Are you forgetting that I told you to go slowly, Giles?”

“No. I _was_ going –”

My hand was over his mouth before he finished. “Because it’s a special day, you get another chance. One. Try again.” I let my hand drop and waited.

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s not answering my question.”

“No, I didn’t forget, Spike.”

“I didn’t think you had. Not really had time to, have you? So that means you were disobeying me. Turn around.”

He did and his face...did I look like that when I was obeying him and trying to be perfect, then finding out it hadn’t been enough? How the hell did he manage to fuck me after the punishment and not right then and there? I stepped back up one stair and then another and crooked my finger. He was fighting this, getting overwhelmed by it in a way I hadn’t expected. Easy to say I was in charge but last time had been different; he’d been feeling guilty as hell and it was a good way of calming him down. I decided, slightly regretfully, that we’d have to stop this changing places. All or nothing. He couldn’t give me a collar one minute and then have me giving orders the next. Too confusing. Then I looked at him and knew I wasn’t going to tell him that right away. Not when he was giving me so much of himself. He’d lost his control and it was showing in his face, making him look younger. And even if he was being obedient he still looked unpredictable. Loved that about him. Like playing with a kitten and finding out it was a tiger cub when it clawed you deep. Safe wasn’t something I had a lot of use for and Giles was never all that safe. I trusted him but I never made the mistake of thinking he was tame.

“Penalty, Giles. You’re going to have to start again. Up you go.” I moved to the side, so that he had to brush past me, and slapped his backside as he went past. I knew him; I could smack him soft enough not to trigger the chip and he’d still react as if I’d laid a cane across his arse. Grinned when his fists clenched and did it again. He walked to the top, turned and walked down to me, taking it slowly, watching my face and waiting for the signal that he could move down a step. When he was standing beside me again I kissed him, murmuring, “Don’t move,” just before my mouth closed over his. Kissed him while he stood still, resisted the urge to feel his cock in my hand and then wondered why and let my hand drift down. His stomach muscles jumped as my fingers tickled and teased but not enough for it to count as moving. Then his tongue slid into my mouth, darting and desperate, as I took hold of him, feeling him fight not to drive his hips forward. Now that counted.

I let go of him and sighed regretfully. “Not moving means all of you, Giles.” I ran a finger over the head of his cock. Wet enough to coat my finger, but it wouldn’t have mattered if it hadn’t been; like the slap, this was symbolic. I held the finger out and told him to lick it clean; making him keep his head in place so he could only use the tip of his outstretched tongue. He was breathing hard by the time I said he could stop, face hot and so fucking ready ...wanted him more than I ever had, wanted to be off these stairs, with him bent over that couch, his hands where mine had worn holes, waiting for me to fuck him. Life really should be that simple.

“Walk. Slowly.”

He lifted his chin, catching his breath, and then moved past me and down. When he stepped onto the floor he paused and looked up at me, waiting for instructions.

“If I kissed you, do you think we’d make it to the shower?”

He considered it. “Eventually.”

“Yeah. No kissing. Shower, teeth, all the rest of it...clothes, food...we don’t have time to kiss. Fuck. OK, time out and we’ll forget showering together.”

I shrugged out of the robe and held it out to him. “I’ll be fast. Promise.”

He pulled it on, taking his time, and turned towards the kitchen. I went past him and his hand halted me.

“Giles? Thought we decided...”

“That you have no self control? I knew that already. I, on the other hand, can kiss you – which will take thirty seconds at most – and let you carry on to the shower with no more time wasted.”

“Oh, you can, can you? Go on then.”

Infuriating, that grin he gets. He moved in, stopped with his mouth a bare inch away from mine and then dropped down and took my cock in his hand. “Start counting to thirty, Spike.”

Well, if he was going to cheat... “Just kisses, Giles. And if you can’t make me -”

“You’re wasting time.”

His first kiss was on the head of my cock, tongue darting out to lap at it, then pulling back, teasing and tormenting so I forgot what came after ‘one’.

But after ‘twenty’ I didn’t need to count anymore.