Behind Closed Doors

Chapter Nine

The next day and night I spent in the house but Giles said I was fit enough to go out as soon as the sun went down on the second day, so I stopped complaining. He was lying on the couch reading, his feet in my lap, and I was trying to decide whether rubbing them would count as tickling or a come on. Either would make him put down the book but they’d have entirely different results. Well, I supposed they’d end up with me in the same position - face down, stark bollocks naked ...

Then I remembered something and sat up straight, making Giles tip his tea all over him.

“Spike! Good lord, man!”

“My coat!”

“My shirt?”

“Oh, it’ll wash. Giles, my coat; it got sliced up too; you didn’t throw it away, did you?”

Must have sounded panicky because he took his feet off me, went over to the cupboard and pulled it out. “Here you are,” he said, tossing it over and going to mop up the spill. “Good as new.”

I stood up, caught it and looked it over. It smelled too clean, but that would wear off, and the sleeve, which I remembered being in tatters, was repaired so well I had to peer at it to see the stitches.

“Who did this?”

Giles sat down and stretched out again. “Dawn sponged off the blood, with many exclamations of disgust, and Tara did the sewing. I, uh, emptied the pockets first.” He looked mildly embarrassed. I thought back to what I usually keep in there and grinned.

“Bet you did. God, I could kiss them!”

“A thank you note should suffice,” he said, all prim and proper.

“You don’t think they’d prefer a kiss? Maybe even a hug –”

Best innocent look, but it was wasted as he didn’t look at me, didn’t even move apart from flicking over a page in his book. “I say where your mouth goes, Spike. Not you.” And we were back in that place again, as if we’d never left, the place where Giles’s hand was resting lightly against the back of my neck and I never knew quite when he was going to tighten his grip.

“You do?”

“Always.” He gave me this considering look, as if he was hungry and trying to decide on the best place to start nibbling. Got me hard every time, that look, but I always knew he’d beaten me to it, because by the time he was looking like that, he was ready to fuck me and I had to catch up fast because he didn’t like waiting.

He crooked his finger, jerked his head, and I went over to him. Lazy git didn’t even sit up, just grabbed my wrist and pulled me so I was straddling him, with one knee wedged between him and the back of the couch, the other about to slip off.

“Want to go upstairs?saidsaid. “Not enough room on here really.”

“If I wanted suggestions I’d have told you to make them.”

I didn’t have time to work that one out because he sighed and shoved me onto the floor. I landed in a heap and he threw two cushions beside me, lay down with his head on them and looked at me expectantly. I got back where I was before, sitting astride him, and waited.

“Quite comfortable now?” he asked.

“Hard on the knees.”

“Not on mine,” he pointed out.

“And your comfort’s all that matters.”

He rolled his eyes. “Finally, some light dawns.”

I leaned forward, putting my hands flat on the floor and asked him just where my mouth should be. Could feel how hard he was and I wondered how long it would take for it to be on his cock. Waited for him to tell me what to do, feeling everything narrow to a point and disappear until it was just us.

He brushed one finger against his lip and I bent down to kiss him there, fighting down impatience. Been so long ...he hadn’t done more than hold me since I got hurt. Wanted more. Wanted him. Wanted him to stop thinking and stop treating me as if I would break, as if he had to hold back. He didn’t. Not ever, not with me. That was one thing I could give him and he wasn’t taking it, not really. Now and then, like when he fucked me in the shop with that old biddy waiting, but he held back even before I was hurt.

Fuck. Not like I wanted him to turn into a monster, channel Angelus at his worst. Didn’t. That kind of cruelty wasn’t in him. Ruthless, yes; sadistic, no. But there was as much darkness in a Watcher as there was in a Slayer and it needed feeding, needed attention. Knew all about that and if I couldn’t hand it out any more, taking it was just as good. Nearly. Problem was going to be getting what I wanted from Giles without asking for it. If I asked, he’d have to say ‘no’ because he was still on edge. I’d had time to think in the laso dao days, with Giles being gentle all over the place. He wasn’t exactly spoiling me or pampering me, but I’d got used to him controlling me, guiding me, making me do everything his way. Taking that away had left me blind. I wanted him back, full force, no hesitation. If it was bothering him that the last time he’d fucked me he’d hurt me, I wanted to tell him it didn’t matter, because I understood why he’d needed that and deliberately encouraged him. Wasn’t sure if he’d already figured it out though. Or how he’d react to being manipulated if he hadn’t.

So I kissed him, tongue flickering against his, gentle and soft, letting the ache build up because I needed something to be hurting me right then.

He pushed me back and looked at me, little bit puzzled, little bit curious. I wriggled, letting him feel how hard I was, and he laughed.

“What?” I said.

“You’re so impatient sometimes, Spike. Do you know how much fun that is? When you’re practically quivering?” Said it like a joke, but I wasn’t smiling. He leaned up on his elbows and looke ove over. “Stand up. Strip,” he said.

“No ‘please’?” I said, letting out some of the frustration with a dig at him. He’d been working on my manners since I moved in, as if we had a garden party to go to.

“Oh, I do beg your pardon, Spike. Please stand up. Please strip for me. Please get your arse back here as quickly as possible because apparently we’re in a terrible rush to get it beaten and buggered.”

He sounded amused but he was starting to simmer. I turned up the heat, standing and moving a few steps away so he could watch me without craning his head. “Thought you’d forgotten how to do either.”

“You’re still remarkably over dressed, Spike,” he said pointedly, ignoring my words, letting his eyes roam over me.

Cool voice, bored eyes. Not going to get a reaction. Right. I peeled out of my clothes, dropping them beside me. He glanced at them and I waited to be told to pick them up and fold them, or something else that would make me want to scream and break things. Want to. Didn’t mean I would.

“Turn around and kneel down.”

Did it, trying to relax and just let him set the pace, but still filled with impatience that had me quivering with the need to skip all of this and just get to the part where he took everything away but him. Three days since I’d come. Three fucking days and two nights sleeping beside Giles and he hadn’t touched me the way I wanted him to. He came up behind me and brought my arms back, crossing my wrists behind me. “Think you could keep them like this for long?”

I didn’t answer. Didn’t want games, though Giles could come up with some good ones. Wanted fucking and to know that we were back to normal. I was so hard that pulling my jeans off had nearly made me come for God’s sake, and Giles was messing around – what was he doing anyway? What was the point of this, when I could tell he was as ready as I was? Tried to think but I was naked and kneeling with Giles right e bee beside me and that just wasn’t helping. Any more of this and I wouldn’t be able to remember my own name. Three minutes ago I’d been working up the energy to reach for the remote. Now I was ready to kill something if I didn’t come soon. Giles had that effect on me. Made everything matter more and did it so fast ...

“I asked you a question.” Getting a nice edge to his voice.

“Tie me.”

Came out sounding more like an order than a plea and I felt him hesitate, the way a cat does just before it pounces. I didn’t mean it to be so abrupt but I needed help staying still. If he didn’t do something, I’d break, grab him and then he’d have to walk away; I knew that much, even the way I felt, I knew he wouldn’t –couldn’t – let me get away with that. He moved away and opened a drawer, came back with –

“Cotton thread?”

Three strands wrapped around me, cutting into my wrists, making me go still as they’d snap so easily and he’d never believe it wasn’t on purpose.

“Not meant to hold you; just to remind you where I want your hands. You could break anything I used, if you wanted to.”

“Yes, but –”

His hand sli aro around and covered my mouth. “Stop talking. You’re supposed to be kissing me.”

I bit his finger and ran my tongue over it. He bent his head, smiled against my shoulder and slid his finger between my lips. By the time I’d finished with it, if his finger could have come, it would have, and he was biting the back of my neck, marking it with his teeth, his arm round me so I could feel his heart beating against my back. Fast. Should have been. I was good at this.

He sto me, me, lay back against the cushions and told me to turn around, with his voice low and husky. I managed it without snapping the thread and knelt beside him. I don’t know where he’d found the time, but he’d got rid of everything but his shirt. It was still buttoned and his cock was framed against white cotton, making him look more naked than I did.

“Where now, Giles?” Make it your fucking cock because I’m dying here, I thought, looking at him and imagining bending forward and using my tongue on him as he lay very still, his hand on his cock, holding it up for me to tongue and taste, suck and swallow...

“Anywhere, Spike. Just don’t make me come, or you won’t get to.”

I think he made it up as he went along. The daydreams fled and I glared at him. “What?”

“I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve argued with me or been slow to obey in the last ten minutes.” He was starting to sound pissed off.

“You’re not making any sense.” Frustration gave my words an edge and his eyes narrowed.

“Whining isn’t an attractive mood and in anyone over the age of two, it’s unforgivable. You’re not trying to understand. You just want me to fuck you.”

“There’s something wrong with that plan? You’re as ready as I am; why are you waiting?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m waiting for you.” Cooiceoice now with a hint of warning but I was past caring.

“Huh? I’m right here, Giles. I’m fucking here. Want me to beg? I’ll beg. Want me to whimper? I’m seconds away. Been so long. I need you. I need you in me right now. You’re driving me fucking crazy.”

“Teach you to go out and nearly get yourself fucking killed then!” Knew we hadn’t quite worked our way past that one, despite all the cups of blood in bed. Giles didn’t swear much; too many years minding his languageund und the brats. He’d been all sweet reason and consideration; should have seen this coming because if there was one thing I knew after a century with Dru, it was that an argument with a lover never ended until someone was bleeding. With Dru, it had been literal and it was usually my blood. With Giles, I was fairly certain I’d still end up losing but I doubted he’d get quite as creative with a skewer.

“So this is your way of punishing me for that? Get me so hard I can’t fucking think straight and then yell at me for wanting you? Because it sucks.”

Just like that, he went back to level voice, calm curiosity, research man. How he managed it when he was half naked, I don’t know. “Tell me what would hurt then. Tell me what would punish you, as you don’t seem to be disputing that you deserve it. I’m interested.”

I floundered. “You could – you could – fuck, I don’t know. Thrash me. Yeah. Get out that crop of yours and - ”

He snorted. “You’d love it. Try again. What do you hate me doing the most?”

Took me about thirty seconds to admit what it took no time at all to figure out. “Ignoring me.”

“Want me to do that?”

“No.”

“Isn’t this better?”

“Suppose.”

“Then stop whining and do as you’re told.” He didn’t sound angry any mand and I relaxed a little, thinking that I’d got my point across and any minute now he’d be slicking himself up and sliding in me.

“Kiss you anywhere?” I said, not wanting to make any more mistakes. He nodded. “But not make you come. So I can’t kiss you anywhere interesting.”

He closed his eyes for a second as if he was in anguish at my stupidity. Had a Latin teacher who used to do that, but I never had the urge to kiss him when he had his eyes shut.

“Are you trying to be insulting about 90 percent of my body?” he said finally, opening his eyes and giving me a hard look.

“No, but –”

He rolled over, stood up, walked off. “Giles? Where are you – oh.”

He unlocked the chest he keeps his weapons in and took out the crop he uses on me. “Think of this as a commercial break, Spike,” he whispered in my ear, kneeling me up so my head and shoulders were resting on the couch,handhands still behind me. “A way of relieving my considerable irritation with your continuing –” He paused for thought and then brought the crop down as hard as he could, “complaints.”

A cloud of dust came up. “You hit the couch.”

“It’s hard to miss at this range.”

“Not my backside.”

He slipped the crop between my knees, running it along the inside of migh igh until it rested against my balls, making me gasp and shudder, back arching inward. “Does that explain why? As you weren’t paying attention earlier when we discussed just what punishes you and what you get off on?”

“Giles, I don’t know what you want me to do.” Frustration had stopped being an emotion and felt like a second skin, tight and suffocating. Desire and arousal were spreading and swelling inside me with nowhere to go, until I felt like a balloon about to burst.

“Yes, you do.” He sounded calm, adamant and unsympathetic. If I hadn’t seen how hard he was, the head of his cock glossed over and wet, I’d have thought he couldn’t care less if we fucked now or waited another three fucking days.

“Tell me? Please?” I waited and then added, “Help me?”

Didn’t ask him that often. Heard him sigh and then he knelt beside me, fisted his hand in my hair, yanked my head around and kissed me hard, letting it melt into something sweeter when I kissed himk. Gk. God, his mouth on mine was all it took to stop the tegringrinding ache in my balls from being unendurable, because I knew one more nip from his teeth on my lip, one more slow thrust of his tongue and I’d come and -

He pulled back suddenly, breathing a little faster and ran his tongue over his lips. “I don’t think that did help. Sorry.” He didn’t sound veorryorry to me. “Start over, Spike. You do ... do what you want to. Anything. To me. Now.”

I opened my mouth to ask a question and he glared at me. I shut it again. Anything I wanted but no more questions? I could do that. I thought about it. Anything? Did that include getting my fucking hands free? Because it would make it much more fun...

He got back on the couch and sat there, waiting. I stood up, turned around so my hands were in front of him and tugged my wrists apart, being very careful not to break the thread. He circled my wrists with his hands and said, “If it’s what you want ...” and pulled his hands apart, freeing me. He had to do that. He’d put it on me; wasn’t up to me to take it off, no matter how much the rules had changed. Not that they had, not really. I was still doing what Giles had told me to do. That ran under everything, like a river under the desert.

‘What I want’? Why wouldn’t it be? I knelt down and wrapped my hand around his cock, feeling it heavy and full in my hand. Had to taste it, just had to ... and if I did, I wouldn’t stop and he’d come and it would all be over and - fuck.

I looked at him. “Want to say something.”

He didn’t say not to, so I carried on. “Going to make you come. You need to. Doesn’t count, right? I won’t, I promise, but you, yeah, you need to.”

He closed his eyes and I took that as permission, bent down and took him in, nearly coming just from the taste of him, the feel of it, the smell of arousal and need. Tried to do exactly what I’d done to his finger, trying to remember how I’d licked and sucked at it, wondering if he’d notice what I was doing. The way his hips were jerking and the sounds he was making, maybe not. I pushed him down with one hand on his leg, keeping the other on his cock, took him in deep and felt that pause as his cock got harder and he came. Knew he’d been close. I looked up at him and his eyes were open again and he was watching me, face still not back to normal, but it never bothered him.

Giles never hid, not from me. I’ve seen him come. I’ve seen him...and he never shut me out, always let me share it, feel it with him.

Now he was looking at me and he smiled. “I think you were right,” he murmured, his voice husky again, catching in his throat. “So, is it your turn now?” He leaned back and spread his legs, just a little, but with him that was as blatant an invitation as it got.

Sat back and looked at him. Knowing I could fuck him – and yeah, that was what he was offering – was tempting, but when I fucked Giles, I wanted it to be on a bed. And I was going to take my time.

I’d also had time to think. ‘Start over’. I’d asked for help and he’d given me a second chance. Do what he wanted and no talking back – or do it my way, show him what I could do when I put my mind to pleasing him.

Yeah. Let myself dream on for a minute and then sat down beside him, pulled him around so his feet were back in my lap and smiled at him.

His eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled back at me and he said, “Come here.”

So my knee got wedged again and I waited patiently. He sat up and wrapped his arms around me and kissed me ...love, approval, appreciation ... all there, and then there was nothing but heat and we were on the floor and we were rolling and biting and grabbing and his skin was warm under my hands and he was moaning in my ear, even as his teeth bit down on it, and his fingers were in me and it hurt just enough to make me want to tell him to do it again but by the time I managed to say it, he’d already done it.