Heat

Spoilers: Set directly after 'Bad Girls', AU from there on out. In parts 3 and 4 there are chunks of dialogue is taken from 'Consequences' because, well, I saw absolutely no reason to actually change canon there.

Big, huge, 'thank you's to Kyrieane, Beadtific, and Ngaio for the wonderful betas and the 'Buffyverse Dialogue Database' for, well, the dialogue! :-)

******

"Wesley?"

A gentle voice broke through the layers of fog that lay wrapped around his brain. Wes grumbled at it, trying to turn on his side. Pain shot through him at the move, jolting him from his sleep.

He tried to sit before he could think better of it and let out a hoarse cry when his stiff, bruised body objected. Strong hands support his back, helping him, the same voice tsking at him.

"I was afraid you'd be a little stiff."

"Thanks so much for sharing," Wesley ground out before he could think about it. He was immediately contrite, his face heating up as he realized he'd just snapped at Giles and after all the man had done for him. Helping him out of the library and . . .

Opening his eyes, he found the older man smiling slightly.

"Well, I see you're feeling better, at least well enough to put on some of that old Wyndam-Pryce charm. I think I liked you better with a concussion."

Wesley might have winced had there not been a teasing tone in the man's voice. As it was, he was left feeling . . . quite confused. His memories of the night before were hazy, fading in and out, but . . . he was almost certain he remembered . . . kissing. Quite a bit of kissing, actually, and mostly not on his part.

Wes could feel his face turning red and was therefore glad, for the most part, that Giles had gone to the kitchen for some reason. He could still feel the heat from the other man's hands and, combine with what snatches of memory he had from the night before . . .

Stop thinking about it, he ordered himself, though he had little hope of being obeyed. He wasn't sure how to face this situation, wasn't sure which parts were real and which he'd dreamed.

There had been kissing. He was sure of that, but not because it was so clear, more because the sensory memory of Giles' lips on his was so very strong, even if he couldn't say exactly when it had happened. The rest though . . . Giles' lips on his chest, the older man's hands on his cock, rubbing and . . . no, that had to be a dream . . . right?

There had been words too. He knew they had talked, of course. Giles had asked him about the injuries, but . . . something else, something that flitted around the edges of his mind like a shy butterfly.

At least Wes remembered enough not to shake his head to clear it.

Hearing Giles' return, he tried to push his thoughts to the present. Giles took the seat on the couch next to him, offering a glass of water and several aspirin.

"Here. This should help with the headache and the foggy feeling should fade as the spell wears off. It might take a while."

"Spell?"

"To help you sleep," Giles said, a strange smile lifting his lips. The words brought forward more hazy memories, but Wes pushed them aside, gladly accepting the water and painkillers.

"I'm afraid," Wesley said, continuing after swallowing down the aspirin, "that my memory is a bit disrupted."

"Disrupted?" Giles nodded, a slight thread of humor in his voice. "Probably more along the lines of a watercolor left in the rain."

"Quite an accurate description," Wesley snorted, only then realizing Giles arm was around him, well, more laying along the back of the sofa, but definitely touching his tense shoulders. "I, um, I . . . don't really remember . . . some things."

Wesley knew his fishing was painfully obvious, but couldn't think of anything more subtle. He looked at his hands instead of meeting Giles' gaze, chewing on his lip as he waiting for some kind of answer.

"Some things?" Giles chuckled, a sound that Wes thought he should have been surprised at, but somehow wasn't. Mr. Giles didn't chuckle, not with him, and rarely enough with the children, at least in his presence. "Which things, Wes?"

Wesley looked up at the use of his nickname, meeting Giles' expressive olive eyes. While they did indeed seem to hold laughter, he didn't think it was at his expense. Unless he'd forgotten even more than he'd thought.

"I, uh, I seem to remember you saying something to me and I . . . you see, I had some rather, uh, odd dreams and I'm not sure I can separate what actually, er, took place from . . . that." Wesley blinked, trying to run over that sentence in his mind and wincing.

Giles slid close, his arm brushing along the skin at the back of Wesley's neck, sending bolts of arousal straight to Wes' cock. Trying to make his shivers less then obvious, Wesley looked back to his hands, holding his breath as Giles leaned in close to his ear.

"Last night, I asked you if you'd ever been with a man before. Can you remember what you answered?"

"Um," Wes swallowed hard, panting a little at the feel of Giles' breath on his neck. "Not as such, but . . . I'll assume I told the truth, which happens to be that . . . uh, no I-I haven't."

"Do you remember me telling you I'd change that for you?" Giles' hand was on his thigh, squeezing gently. Wesley's cock was aching now, pressed into a bad position due to his pants. He didn't want to move though, afraid he'd break whatever spell had been cast over Giles. It was the only conclusion that seemed, truly, logical.

There was always the slim chance that Giles was actually attracted to him. That wasn't, totally, outside of the realm of possibility, but it just didn't seem as likely. There had never been a hint before.

"I, uh, yes, I believe I remember that and uh, something about, um kissing . . ." Wesley knew he was blushing redder than young Willow's hair, but there was really no help for it.

"Kissing every bruise and scrape on your body, yes. See, the haze is wearing away." Giles commented before his lips and tongue began to work the skin just behind Wes' ear, making the younger man shudder and moan softly. "Any other questions, Wes?"

"Um, I . . ." It took Wesley longer than he'd have liked to pull himself together, but he finally managed, turning to look at Giles. "Why?"

"W Gi Giles seemed surprised by that.

"Yes," Wesley began, rather breathlessly, looking back to his hands. "You never seemed, uh, to see me . . . um, in-in any way beyond . . . why would you want to . . . uh . . . why?"

Giles was quiet for a moment before sighing. "I find you attractive and it's not as sudden as you seem to think." There was a hint of, not anger, but perhaps frustration in the older man's voice.

Great. Now I've ruined it. Stupid! Wesley cursed hlf, lf, biting his split lip and using the pain to hold back the beginning prickle of tears. Those never helped anything, never changed anything. Crying only got you punished.

"I," Giles continued, the frustration clearer now, "don't know exactly how to explain. You . . . normally, you're a prat."

Wesley flinched, closing his eyes hard.

"Or, at least you pretend to be, which is a difference that, until last night, I didn't truly see."

Wesley opened his eyes once again, looking toward Giles, but keeping his eyes well away from the other man's gaze, afraid of what he'd see.

"Wes. You try so hard to be the perfect Watcher, very prat-like, but . . . last night," Giles hand was moving on his thigh, rubbing lightly. Wesley had to force himself to concentrate on what Giles was saying even as his cock swelled again. "Last night, you weren't trying to be anything. You were hurt, but you were yourself, which is a good deal more intriguing than you let on."

"Intriguing?" Wesley asked, looking down to hide the silly smile the word put on his face. "You . . . you find me . . . intriguing?"

Giles chuckled again, the hand that had once rested on the sofa back moving to play alons' ns' neck, tickling.

"Quite." Giles moved in close again, his lips whispering along Wesley's cheek. "Now, where were we?"

Wesley shivered, smile dropping from his face as his heart decided to trying and beat its way out of his chest.

This is happening. This is real. Wesley wasn't sure whether he was tryingconvconvince himself or just reveling in the fact. It was quite possibly a bit of both.

"I . . . I think somewhere around the, uh, the kissing of bruises and scrapes," which I never thought I'd be almost glad to be covered in.

"Mmm, yes. I think that's it." Giles lips brushed his cheek again and Wesley gasped softly, his eyes falling shut once more. Then those lip lips were on his, pressing him firmly back. Wesley melted into the kiss, his muscles relaxing easily. Giles licked along his lips and Wesley opened to him, letting himself be turned, be pressed back onto the arm of the couch.

Whether it was the painkillers or his euphoria, the pain was just a twinge in the back of his mind; easily ignored, nothing he hadn't dealt with before. And for this? He'd have gladly done it all over again.

Wesley wrapped his arms around Giles' neck, one hand tangling in the older man's hair. He whimpered when Giles' tongue swept into his mouth, licking along his own. The hands on his body weren't gentle, but were far from hurting. They seemed to brand him, burning away the bruises, the failure, leaving only sensations that had him all but writhing.

"Oh, god, Giles," he panted, hands clutching at the older man's shoulders.

"Mmmm, I like it when you're eager," Giles murmured into the crook of Wesley's neck before biting softly at his skin.

Wesley arched into the other man's body, his cock rigid and desperate for friction. The voice in his head, the one that always insisted he be proper, polite, distant, was cast aside by Giles' words, his touch.

Then the old man pulled away and Wes whimpered at the loss of contact, hands still clutching at Giles, trying to pull him back.

"Upstairs," Giles insisted, breaking through Wes' daze with the hoarse edge of his voice.

Wesley nodded, getting to his feet and almost tripping as he stood. Giles was there, one hand on the small of his back, guiding him toward the stairs. Halfway there they were kissing again, Giles sucking Wesley tongue into his mouth, licking at it.

Wes didn't remember getting up the stairs, or rather, he chose to forget nearly tripping both Giles and himself. He did remember getting to the bed though, Giles lying him down and crawling up his body, the older man's hard cock ground into his own.

Wes threw his head back into the pillows, crying out at the feel of it. Never had anything felt so very good, so intense. Jolts of pleasure ran along his nerves, every muscle jerking taut. When Giles' mouth latched on to one, bruised, nipple, Wes though he might die from the feeling. It . . . stung, but . . . in such a good way.

While he'd admitted to never being with another man, he'd certainly not told Giles that he'd only ever, in fact, been with his own hand and then quite guiltily. Regardless, this was so much better, so much . . . stronger.

Giles' hands were on his hips, holding him still as Giles pressed hard against him. Then the other man's fingers were stripping him, undoing buttons with quick efficiency, tugging boxers and pants down and then off with urgent fingers.

Wesley gasped as his erection sprang free, slapping against his stomach. He could feel the air brushing against the pre-cum, making him shiver. Giles didn't return right away. Wes propped himself on his elbows and found his eyes roaming over the other man's body as he shucked his own clothes.

Wes' breath caught, eyes skimming from salt and pepper chest hair to strong thighs and then, bravely, to the erection that jutted from still-dark pubic hair.

He began to panic a little then. While he'd imagined similar scenarios, the details had been . . . sketchy. Or, rather, practically nil and fairly unneeded to accomh hih his goals at the time. Now, his mind was providing him with all sorts of details. Wesley swallowed hard, licking at his lips as Giles ran his fingers up one leg.

"I, uh--" the rest of the words, whatever they were because Wesley wasn’t at all sure, wouldn't come. They caught in his chest, trapped by the pound of his heart.

Giles smiled at him, the look in his eyes soft, doing things to Wesley that he'd have though required a lot more touching. Then the man was crawling over him again, holding his body away from Wesley's until their faces were even.

"Did you want something?" The word 'want' was punctuated by a thrust of Giles' hips, their cocks meeting and sliding long one another.

"Oh, yes," Wesley breathed, his body shuddering, bowing to stay in contact as long as possible. "Just, I've . . . never . . . oh, god!" The last was said as Giles lowered himself, straddling Wes and pressing their cocks hard together.

"Shhh. Do you trust me?" Giles' eyes were earnest and so close that they filled his vision.

"Y-yes." Wes nodded frantically, his breathing coming in gasps, body heaving with each inhalation. "W-want, want this. Badly."

"I know," Giles whispered against his ear as he slipped to Wesley's side, hand stroking down Wes' torso, making his muscles clench. "I won't hurt you any more than necessary."

Wesley shivered, closing his eyes and groaning as Giles' calloused fingers pushed through pubic hair to wrap around his swollen prick, stroking once, twice, before moving on. Wesley all but screamed at the feel of Giles' fingertips dancing over his balls before brushing his thighs apart.

"This will be easier if you flip onto your stomach," Giles whispered, "but not just yet."

Wes had no words to reply, breathless as Giles fingers caressed his thighs and then cupped his balls, rolling and squeezing gently. Moaning, his body pulling tight, Wes squeezed his eyes shut and bit hard on his lip. The pain didn't ease the tightening his balls, but it helped he control himself.

"Can't . . . so, close. I'm . . . sorry, I--"

"Don't apologize, Wes. I want you hot; want you very, very ready." The man's hand withdrew and Wes found himself making little gasp-whimpers. Then Giles was back and Wes watched as the older man flipped open the lid of a tube.

Cool liquid poured over his heated skin, drawing gasps as it slid over his cock, down to his balls and lower, flowing into his crease and over his pucker. Wesley moaned, spreading his legs wide, watching intently as Giles' stroked him, spreading the lube over his prick before sliding down to his perineum.

"Flip over."

Wesley nodded, groaning as he moved, bruises pressed into the bed. It wasn't pain, as such, just a heightened awareness of his own skin as it tingled and throbbed. Lying on his stomach, cock trapped between sheets and body, Wesley felt more exposed than he had before.

More lube, washing over his back and ass, making him aware of the brush of cool air against his skin, a huge contrast to the hot finger that slid into his crease, circling, probing. Wesley went stiff; waiting for the pain he'd heard would come next.

"Relax, Wes." A hand kneaded his back, rubbing the lube into his skin and massaging muscles that nearly trembled with strain. "Come up on your elbows and knees," Giles urged, stroking Wesley's flank as the younger man did as asked. "That's it."

The hand that had been massaging skimmed from his back to his stomach, sliding to his cock. Wesley thrust into the grip, unable to hold himself still. Giles' other hand still rubbed over his pucker, circling slowly, sending little pulses of shock to Wesley's twitching prick.

Then that finger slipped inside him, easy after the first bit of resistance, but beginning a slow burn. Wes couldn't go stiff, couldn't tense up, not with that hand on his desperate, swollen cock.

Whimpering, Wesley thrust his hips again, sliding forward into a slick hand and then back onto Giles' fingers. "N-need, I . . . please. More, p-please."

There was a chuckle from behind him, soft, sexy, and not at all mocking. Then another finger pushed inside, stretching, ratcheting the burn up a notch. Wesley was gasping for each breath now, all but fucking himself on Giles' fingers. The older man changed the angle a little and suddenly there were fireworks in Wesley's head.

His cock jumped hard before Giles slipped his hand down, grasping tight at the base, staving off Wes' orgasm even as he pulled his fingers out. Wesley cried out in protest, so desperate for release he was ready to beg, ready to promise anything.

Then both Giles' hands were gone and Wesley found his face wet with frustrated tears.

"Please. God, Giles, please don't stop. I'm sorry, I--"

"Shh, Wes," Giles interrupted his apology, voice soft and soothing. "I'm not stopping. I promise I'm not stopping. Wouldn't leave you like this. I just need to open this blasted--there. Just slipping on a condom."

Wes' dropped his forehead to the pillows, letting Giles' assurances sweep over him. Giles wasn't going away. He wasn't stopping. Wesley repeated that bit over and over to himself in the forever it seemed to take before he felt Giles' fingers spreading him open, the blunt head of Giles' cock against his hole.

He began to stiffen again, unsure, when Giles' hand fisted his cock, stroking gently as he pushed inside.

There was pain. It hurt; felt as if someone where trying to split him open, and still there was a gnawing want in his belly, his cock. He throbbed with his need, but it hurt.

Wesley cried out, almost sobbing his frustration.

"Shh," Giles was trying to sooth him, stroking his granite hard erection and stilling inside Wesley. "Push back against me, Wes. It'll feel better soon, I promise."

Wes nodded. There were no words able to make it past the lump in his throat. Taking his courage in both hands, Wesley thrust back, spearing himself on the older man's prick. The burn filled him for a moment, drowning out all else. He choked on the pain, but rode it out, Giles' voice with him all the way, guiding him through the haze.

The pain began to fade and the hand that stroked his cock picked up speed, the pleasure overwhelming the pain, helping to clear Wes' mind.

Giles was inside him.

Giles was inside him.

Giles was inside him.

The words kept battering at his mind, each repetition a revelation of its own as the older man pullut sut slowly. Wesley moaned, panting hard, throwing his head back. It felt . . . good, and felt even better when Giles sank in again, filling him.

"So tight. God, so good."

The words sent hot little sparks skittering through his insides and Wesley knew he couldn't keep himself from coming for long. The pain had receded to a dull ache that only seemed to heighten the pleasure and every stroke of his cock, every thrust of Giles' hips, pushed him closer to the edge.

He found himself begging, the word 'please' falling from his lips with every thrust and stroke until he couldn't speak any longer, could only moan. The slap of skin against skin was the only sound, Giles pounding into him and pulling hard on his cock.

A slight shift in angle and Giles was brushing his prostate with every stroke. Wesley choked on a groan, pressing his hands against the wall to push back harder, to meet every thrust with equal strength.

Wesley's balls tightened hard, his cock pulsing once. Then he was screaming Giles' name as he came, spattering the other man's hand and the bed with his release. His channel clenched around the man's cock, Giles' hand on his hip dug in hard to keep him upright. The older man thrust in hard, going still. Wes could feel Giles' body trembling as he came, but it was distant, lost in the rush of ecstasy that kept his muscles tight for what seemed forever.

Then he was collapsing, no grip strong enough to keep him upright when his muscles were nothing but goo. Giles' weight pressed him into the bed, but Wesley couldn't find it in him to complain. He lay there, dazed and nearly liquid, trying to catch his breath for he couldn't say how long.

He let out a soft gasp when Giles pulled out of him. Then the other man's weight shifted off, gone for only a moment before settling in next to him. He snuggled closer to the other man's skin, closing his eyes and reveling in the moment. He was just drifting off when Giles shook him gently.

"I wish we had time to nap too," the man whispered against his sweaty skin. "At this point though, we have an hour to shower, shave, get you some clothes, and show up at the library. Any later than that and the children will worry."

Wes groaneyes yes snapping open. There was a satisfied smile on Giles' face and Wes knew he had to be scarlet with his blush.

The last thing he wanted was to face the children now.