Hushed

Spoilers: “Hush” through “New Man”
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Property of Joss and ME. Just playing.
Summary: Discovering and destroying the Gentlemen, with a little bit of fun on the side.
A/N: Follows Silent Night. And a big thank you to Savvy who helps keep me motivated, especially when the characters really donant ant to cooperate. For more in the Menageaverse, please visit our website at http://www.responsibleadults.sadbhyl.riverworld.net.


At first Giles thought Ethan had slipped out in the middle of the night, as he tended to do. But Ethan’s clothes were still strewn about the room, and Giles found that his good robe was missing. No, he couldn’t take the old, frayed one, could he?

Closing the door behind him so Joyce wouldn’t be disturbed, Giles made his way downstairs to make himself some coffee in preparation for another research-filled day. Ethan, he found, had fallen asleep on the couch, various tomes opened and stacked around him. Was it possible that Ethan had been trying to help?

Giles quietly made his way over to investigate. He picked up the yellow legal pad that Ethan had been carrying around with him since yesterday. On it was a sketch of a figure in a suit, maybe a skeleton or an old man. It reminded Giles of a grinning undertaker. Around the figure, Ethan had made notes to himself. Some Giles recognized as his own about Buffy’s dream, the others belonged to Ethan. Can’t even shout, can’t even cry.—Nursery rhyme? Gentlemen take something from bad boys and girls. Want 7—tongues? sacrifices? Why was Ethan helping? To possibly impress Joyce?

The man in question was now awake, waiting patiently for Giles to finish. Ethan motioned for the tablet.

I don’t think I’ve read that much in years, he wrote.

Giles tapped the picture.

Right. Ethan grinned. That, I believe, is behind your town’s problem. Saw three of them wandering the street last night. My plan was to show you up by figuring this thing out.

Taking the pencil with a smirk, Giles scribbled, Not as easy as it looks?

Ethan shook his head.

Must have been rough if Ethan was admitting to it.

They were interrupted by a dull thump at the door. Giles went over and glanced out the peephole. Seeing nothing, he carefully unlocked and opened the door to retrieve the morning paper. Perusing the paper, he saw that some young man had gotten his heart ripped out in the middle of the night.

Ethan caught his attention with another note. The only thing that makes any sense is a story Mother used to tell me to try and scare me into being good.

Giles looked at the news story, then back at Ethan’s drawing and notes. There was something there, just out of reach. Story! He ran over to his bookshelf and pulled a bright red volume from the top row. Embossed in gold across the top: Fairy Tales. He quickly flipped through until he came to the piece he was searching for.

Walking back to the couch, he handed Ethan the open book. After skimming the story, Ethan’s head shot up, eyes wide.

“You’re joking!” he seemed to say.

Giles shook his head. It was ridiculous but there was no other explanation. His own mother had told him the story once to frighten him into not lying to her again. The Gentlemen came to town in search of hearts and stole the voices of their victims so as not to hear their screams.

~*~

Joyce stretched out her tired muscles. Surprised to not encounter anything or anyone, she opened her eyes and found herself alone in the bed. And judging by how cool the sheets were on either side of her, Joyce guessed she had been alone for sometime. Peeking at the alarm clock, she winced. Ten-thirty? She never slept that late.

Sighing, she got out of the bed. She threw on the worn flannel robe at the foot of the bed, picked up her bag, and went downstairs to shower.

Ethan and Rupert, she found, were bent over a book, writing back and forth. They looked up, acknowledging her, and then turned back to what they were doing. Were the two men actually working together on something? This she had to see.

She saw that Rupert was already showered and dressed. As Joyce approached, they seemed to finish their discussion and Rupert picked up a stack of books. He gave her an apologetic look and a quick kiss before leaving.

Joyce turned to Ethan. He handed her an already written page.

Had a bit of a breakthrough. Rupert’s gone off to round up and inform the troops.

She picked up the pencil. Were you actually helping him?

Don’t let it get around, he winked. Then added, Would you mind terribly if I showered first?

“Go ahead,” she mouthed; she wasn’t in any hurry.

While Ethan went to shower, Joyce poked around the notebooks and scraps of paper, trying to piece together what the men had figured out. She came across Ethan’s legal pad of drawings and began to flip through them.

The most recent picture seemed to be of a demon of some sort. Based on the notes, it seemed to be the creature responsible for the laryngitis that plagued the town. Now she knew why he hadn’t come back to bed last night. He must have gone downstairs and seen one of the creatures.

The picture before that was the one she had seen him working on. She lay curled next to a sleeping Rupert. There was a shadowy outline resembling a man laying on her right and slightly removed from her and Rupert. Joyce wasn’t sure how much she wanted to read into the picture. She turned the page again.

And here was the one he had been working on while Rupert was going down on her. The top of Rupert’s head was just visible between the peaked mounds of her breasts. Joyce followed the valley forward as it faded out to her collarbone, down across her neck, curving out over the edge of the bed. Her hair cascaded down, fanning out around, framing her face which was . . . which was… did she really look like that? There was an almost ecstatic glow lighting up her features, and she appeared neither young nor old. She just was. It evoked a sense of reverence. Finally she came to rest on her eyes, wide and passion dilated, but focused intently on the artist. It was one of the most moving drawings she had ever seen, artistically and erotically.

Joyce nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up to see Ethan studying her intently, clad in a towel and still wet from the shower. If she could speak, she wasn’t sure she would be able to. There just weren’t any words.

She set the drawing aside and stood up. When words failed, well . . . Joyce began to kiss him with deliberate slowness, savoring him, thanking him for what he had shown her. She pulled back, licking her lips.

He touched her face lightly, toying with one of her loose curls before tucking it back behind her ear.

Joyce breathed deeply, taking in his scent, shower-clean and entirely Ethan. She ran her fingers lightly along the top of the towel and noted how the front twitched; she enjoyed having that effect on a man again. And what a man he was. There were glimpses she caught from time to time of his extremes: a frightening darkness and the capacity for great tenderness. Last night when he and Giles had gone after each other, Joyce saw a hint of what they tried to hide from her, although Ethan did so to a lesser extent. She wondered if either one of them would ever trust her enough to show her their darker natures.

But now wasn’t the time to think on such things.

She realized Ethan was just watching her as she mused and explored, lightly holding her. It suddenly dawned on Joyce that she still needed to shower. The scent of morning after hung about her. Not entirely unpleasant, but clean would be nice, too.

Joyce made to break away, but Ethan’s hold tightened, keeping her there. She pointed toward the shower and he shook his head. No? And then he was kissing her as gently as she had kissed him. Well, if he didn’t mind her unshowered state, she wouldn’t let it bother her.

She deftly undid the towel, letting it drop. Ethan pulled her closer in response. No, he didn’t seem to mind at all.

Undoing the belt, Ethan worked open the robe and walked her backward, until she bumped into the couch and fell slowly back, pulling him down on top of her. Joyce moaned at the skin-to-skin contact. Never breaking the kiss, Ethan propped himself up with one hand and began to massage slowly down her body with his other. Arching up, seeking full contact, Joyce was denied, as much restrained as caressed by his hand. His fingers passed over her throbbing clit and slid deeply into her slick, wet center.

She wanted to cry out, give voice to what he was making her feel, butre wre was no sound other than the quickened pants of breath. So close, but it wasn’t enough. Joyce needed more than Ethan’s skillful fingers.

“Please,” she begged silently, holding his gaze. “I need you.”

He hesitated and she realized why. Unlike the bedroom, protection wasn’t so readily at hand. Joyce doubted she could make it up the stairs.

“Bathroom?” she suggested.

Ethan nodded and, pressing a quick kiss to her mouth, got up.

Joyce lay on the couch waiting, body humming so close but so far from release. She longed for a simpler time when such things weren’t a concern.

He soon returned, condom in place, and positioned himself between her legs. Joyce sighed when his cock slid easily in.

Her legs wrapped around his waist as Ethan began to thrust deep and quick. Closer, but still not enough. She met him half way, mouths crashing together. Joyce grabbed Ethan’s free hand and brought it between them, pressing hard against her clit. Finally, she climaxed, longing to scream his name.

~*~

Ethan’s head shot up when he heard the door lock turn. He and Joyce had fallen asleep on the couch, and by the looks of the fading light they had been asleep for some time. Probably not the wisest of moves if Rupert decided to bring the children back for more research. Hopefully the man had the good sense not to do that, for Joyce’s sake. Okay, for his, too. Ethan wasn’t quite ready to die yet, which is what would happen if the Slayer caught him and her mother on the couch in flagrante.

Rupert, thankfully alone, frowned when he saw them.

Fortunately, Ethan was saved from having to defend himself, since Joyce chose that moment to wake up.

Stretching, she opened her eyes and smiled up at him. Then she paled, seeming to realize they weren’t alone.

“Just Rupert,” he assured her.

The smile returned as she got up and made her way over to Rupert. After a brief silent discussion, she gave him a quick kiss and went to the bathroom. Moments later, Ethan heard the shower start up.

Well, this was going to be fun. Ethan wasn’t quite sure he wanted to face Ripper’s wrath at being found naked, with Joyce, in plain view of anyone who entered the apartment.

Grabbing a notebook and pen, Rupert wrote as he walked over to the couch. Joyce says it wasn’t your fault, falling asleep on the couch like that.

Ethan smirked as he wrote back. You think I have a death wish?

Well, you can’t seem to stay away, his friend smiled reluctantly.

Some things are worth the risk.

Rupert didn’t seem to know quite how to respond to that. Finally, You do know I expect you to pay to have the couch cleaned.

Ethan looked toward the bathroom. Joyce seems to be taking quite a long time in there.

She hasn’t been in there all that—he stopped writing. You can’t be serious.

What, you think she’ll mind?

No, I know she won’t mind. Nonethele—

Ethan pulled the paper away from him and stood, naked. “Your loss,” he mouthed, before heading toward the bathroom. Sparing a glance back, he saw Rupert muttering while he undressed.

The steam billowed out as he pushed open the bathroom door. Joyce’s outline seemed to move in time with some silent tune. He wondered if her voice was any good.

Rupert joined him, shaking his head.

Ethan whipped back the curtain and Joyce jumped with a silent shriek. Turning, she gave him a death glare before tossing her sponge at his face, which Rupert managed to intercept. Ripper flashed him a wicked grin and they both joined Joyce in the shower.

She seemed to be fighting with herself whether to be pleased or annoyed at the intrusion. Pleased won out as they pressed her against the wall.

In concert, he and Rupert leaned in to nibble on an ear, hands slipping lightly over her soap-coated body. Movement unhindered by friction, they worked fluidly down, down until they reached her sex. Together they parted her lips, slid over her swollen clit and sunk into her tight, hot center as one. Joyce’s mouth opened in a silent O of surprise as they jointly fingered her toward climax.

Ethan groaned when her hand closed tightly around his cock and began to skate smoothly up and down. He noticed that she was giving the same attention to Rupert. In response to her returned attentions, their efforts intensified, driving harder, faster until she was gripping them tightly as she came, shuddering.

“Oh god!” she screamed, voice high and hoarse.

Rupert’s eyes locked with his. Had she just—

“Don’t stop,” Joyce breathed, unaware that her voice had returned, fists clenching tightly around their straining cocks.

It was the first human voice they had heard in days. And it was Joyce’s voice, rusty from lack of use and passion. Giles, he noted, came violently, shuddering as he braced himself. Ethan followed, his climax no less intense for holding off.

All three leaned against the shower wall, recovering and reacclimating. They soon took advantage of the remaining warm water to wash up. Ten minutes later, they emerged from the bathroom sated, clean, and uncertain of what to say now that they could speak. They silently headed upstairs to dress. How quickly the human animal could adapt.

After dressing, Ethan went downstairs to find the legal pad with his sketches.

“You’re leaving?” Joyce asked as he tore out the pictures.

“I’ve long worn out my welcome,” he replied lightly, watching as she walked toward him, only half dressed.

She seemed to hesitate before finally speaking again. “Might I possibly have that picture?”

Ethan looked at the drawing he had made while Rupert pleasured her. Open and transcendent, he had managed to capture the vision. “To destroy?”

“No,” was the quiet reply. “I like it . . .a lot, actually. I didn’t think I could . . . look like that.”

And that was why she could. He handed her the picture.

“So, I guess we’ll . . . I’ll see you when I see you?”

He nodded, “You will.”

Then he headed for the door.

“Ethan.”

He stopped and turned to face her.

“Keep an eye out for Buffy, she’s probably still patrolling.”

Ethan smiled as he walked back to her. He pulled her to him, giving her a quick, hungry kiss, promising more. Then he broke away and headed out the door.

~*~

“Ethan leave?” Giles asked when he heard footfalls enter the room.

“Felt he’d over stayed his welcome,” Joyce replied as she made her way to her overnight bag.

He noticed the yellow sheet she was tucking away. “What’s that?”

“Oh nothing, just a sketch of Ethan’s I admired,” she said, a slight flush coloring her cheeks as she pulled on a sweater.

“Ethan always did have a bit of talent in that department.” Quite a bit actually, and sometimes frighteningly revelatory, if memory served.

“Would you like to see it?” She held the paper out to him, face down.

He took it from her. On turning it face up, his cock immediately jumped in response to the rendering of Joyce in complete ecstasy. Giles didn’t know what to say.

“Is it strange that I wanted to keep it?” she asked, coming to stand by his side.

Still speechless, he shook his head. Finally, “I’m surprised he parted with it.”

“Why?”

“I wouldn’t have.”

She smiled, taking it from him. “He had a number of others that were quite moving as well.”

“Oh?” he said noncommittally, as he finished buttoning his shirt.

He heard her sigh, and the bed give as she sat down.

“What’s wrong?” He went over and sat by her.

Joyce shrugged. “Just not ready to return to reality, I guess.”

“Then don’t,” he said, feeling the same reluctance himself. She looked at him. “Stay, for the rest of the night.”

“I should really get home,” she said slowly.

“Should?” he whispered, leaning close to her ear. “But do you really want to?”

She cocked her head, eyes dancing, “Not tired of me yet?”

In response, he leaned in to kiss her, pressing her back slowly onto the bed. Her arms encircled his neck, pulling him close. He broke off, and looking down at her, a soft smile at his lips, “Never.”

And then they were kissing again, but it wasn’t rushed or frenzied like things had been for the past few days. Their tongues danced around each other, a casual tango, savoring just being together. They were taking their time, making it last.

Giles worked a hand up under her sweater to graze lightly over a lace-covered breast.

She gasped, arching into him, “Tell me why we bothered getting dressed?”

“Pretense?” he murmured and felt her smile in response.

They slowly undressed, caressing and enjoying being alone with each other again. Soon they lay together, side-by-side, naked, and lightly touching.

Joyce laughed suddenly.

“What?” Giles asked, fingers tracing over her stomach.

“I was just thinking about how grateful I am that Buffy’s so involved in her own life right now,” she replied, hand teasing against his cock.

“Maybe not that self-involved. Before leaving, she did ask if there was any band candy left.” Joyce’s eyes blinked wide in surprise. He smiled. “But I think she was just worried about Ethan being here more than anything else.”

She resumed her strokes with a grin. “You should be sure to keep her away from telepathic demons this time around.”

He pulled her to him, trapping her hand between them. “Impetuous tonight, aren’t we?” He kissed her long and slow, when he wanted nothing more than to ravage her. While he was quite certain that’s what Joyce wanted, he wasn’t quite ready to give in. He wanted to play his own game first.

“A sure sign I should probably leave,” she said, fighting to keep her face serious.
rollrollrolled on top of her then. “You aregoingoing anywhere, Mrs. Summers.” All thoughts of taking things easy left his head as he delved deep into her obliging mouth. Her hand wrapped tightly around him, working him steadily, only drove him on. His own hand finally worked down and slid easily between her legs.

“Oh god, Rupert!” she gasped, hips seeking his touch.

He pulled back slightly, “Maybe it would be a good idea for you to leave.” And he’d be damned if she didn’t practically growl in response, bringing his hand back to rub over her slick, wet flesh.

They drove each other on, almost to climax. Finally, he spread her legs, preparing to enter her in one quick thrust, when the phone rang.

“Don’t you dare answer it!” she warned voice raspy and low.

With a smirk, he rolled away and reached for the phone. Propping himself up against the headboard, he answered, “Rupert Giles.”

“Giles, hey.”

“Buffy,” he said, emphasizing the name for Joyce’s benefit. And immediately regretted it when he saw the wicked gleam that came to her eyes. He shook his head vehemently, hoping to deter her. “Everything go alright, then?”

“Aside from green demon goo everywhere, it went pretty well,” the girl reported. “Not sure what I would have done if Riley hadn’t shown up.”

“Oh?” he said, hoping Buffy wouldn’t pick up on his change in tone, since her mother was presently inching her way up toward him.

Buffy began to relate the events of the night just as Joyce ducked her head down, taking his cock all the way into her mouth.

He must have groaned because Buffy broke off her chatter, “Giles, is everything alright?”

“Yes, um, fine,” he managed, trying to focus, but Joyce’s bobbing head and twirling tongue were quite distracting. He closed his eyes. No, no better. “I’m just . . . tired is all.”

“I should let you go. I’ll fill you inthe the rest tomorrow?”

“Yes . . . that would be . . good.” His attempts to halt Joyce only seemed to encourage her, her ministrations intensifying. She rose all the way up, lips coming together in a satisfying pop before she took him all the way in again.

“Okay, then, I’ll talk to you later,” Buffy said uncertainly as she signed off.

“Good night,” he said with a bit more force than was needed, then slammed down the phone. “Joyce, do you have any idea—”

She lifted her head up, “Payback sucks, doesn’t it?”

He remembered when Buffy had called Joyce a few weeks back. Revenge, was it?

“I think we’ve had a bad influence on you,” he said, pulling her up to straddle him.

“You don’t seem to mind,” she said, impaling herself with agonizing slowness.

“A gorgeous, naked woman in my bed?” he began to move with her. “What is there to mind?”

Joyce nipped at his ear, voice throaty, “Are we going to talk all night? Or are you g to to fuck me?”

Giles almost came right there. Pushing himself up, he leaned Joyce back until he was in the dominant position, her legs now loosely about his waist. He pulled back slowly until barely the head remained sheathed, then plunged in quick and deep.

She let out a grunt of pleasure. “Again.”

He did it again.

“Harder.”

He fucked her harder.

“Faster.”

He went faster.

“Kiss me.”

He did, and was lost.