"She's a real treat, I'm sure you'll agree." Angel thought back to Wesley's description of Sarah's watcher and growled softly to himself. Pauline was a treat all right: if you liked atomic sourballs. She had a grasp of dulcet-toned sarcasm that would have impressed Darla. Hopefully she didn't have the flogger collection to back up those lacerating remarks.
Okay, maybe that was a little harsh. But he'd seen, briefly the sheen of tears in one of the slayer's eyes at a casually tossed off remark.
"And Jessica?" Miss Souther said as she ended her instructions for the evening, "I've just recalibrated that crossbow, so please try not to trip over your own feet tonight, will you?"
"Yes, Miss Souther." The poor girl had nodded briskly and kept a brave face. Angel hoped she'd use that hurt to fuel her fighting and not let it rattle her. As the girls fanned out, he saw Sarah brush by Jessica and whisper something that made the girl smile and stand taller.
That's my girl, He wished he could have heard what Sarah had said but he was trying to stay out of the range of their "spidey sense" for sensing vampires. She'd obviously pitched her voice for slayer hearing - if a normal human had whispered, he'd have heard it.
The vampire glanced over at the watcher, and rolled his eyes. Clipboard and stopwatch in hand, she'd set herself up on the steps of a small family mausoleum. Not the hands on type, obviously. He wished he'd heard her whole set of instructions. Surely Giles didn't want his watchers sitting on their duffs out here. She was a sitting duck. You better have a stake on you, Souther.
He'd just circle around and see how the girls were doing.
~~~
Sarah took a few deep breaths to dispel some tension. Tonight was kind of different - the possible fledges to rise were related - a mom and dad and teenage son - so the graves were close together. Souther had told them to basically box them in and wait for them to rise - keeping them surrounded until they could dust them all.
Sarah had asked if maybe they should be on the lookout for a sire - turning a family like that seemed to set off alarm bells, at least for her. If so, wouldn't having all of them out in the open like that be showing their hand - it had to be kind of a strong vamp to turn so many at once right? Even if they were just gonna be minions - it was a lot of blood to lose, even for a vamp. But Souther had given her one of those, "I'll do the thinking, you do the slaying," looks that made her wish things were different.
She understood when Wes said that he was rather desperately needed in research - so many of the watcher's killed in the explosion of the old council were the braniac type and Wes knew like a gazillion languages and knew all about making contacts and gathering information. Damn him.
Sarah still wished he could have taken her though, even though he got this really sad little smile on his face and said, "Oh, Sarah, you deserve someone with a far better record with his slayer." Who knew what that was all about?
Giles or Spike would have been awesome, though of course, they so didn't have time, since they were kind of in charge of running things or training everybody.
It would have been nice to have someone who actually looked at her when she spoke, or listened to her ideas. At least she got to go out with Spike everyonce in a while, though it made a vein pop out on Souther's forehead, which in Sarah's book, made it all the more fun. Wes had taken her to a couple of really cool art shows and after her first night back patrolling, Giles had taken her for ice cream. So that was really cool.
She tried not to think about Elijah Murphy, her first watcher. He was so nice and funny and smart and he listened to "his supergirls." Amy and Kelly had had weeks to get used to Miss Souther, but to tell the truth, none of them liked her at all. They all still cried sometimes, missing him. At least they had each other to talk to about that.
And Miss Souther didn't much care whether she liked them or not, as long as they did their jobs. Whee. The three former "Murphy" girls took it on themselves to take care of each other. Their two new sister slayers - Souther's previous charges - Jessica and Alysha had kinda been doin' the same thing, since Souther was wicked stuck-up, so they all just kinda folded themselves together and made sure they had each other's backs
Sarah's jaw flexed as she remembered how Souther cut Jess down in front of everybody. Even at fourteen, Sarah knew that humilation not the way to motivate the shy girl. Taller than most girls her age - nearly six feet tall at fourteen - Jessica Saunders was acutely aware of the size of her feet. Right at the tail end of a huge growth spurt, she got Called, and it was like the long distance service from her brain when she was running or fighting was kinda spotty sometimes - it was like her body didn't realize how long her arms and legs were yet. Jess'd said on more than one occasion that the best part was the slayer healing, 'cause otherwise she'd be all bumps and bruises.
The team got themselves in position - a loose circle around the Alberforth family plot. Sarah looked a question over to Alysha, at sixteen, their team leader. Aly nodded at Sarah, then caught the other girls' eyes, her jaw set stubbornly, and Sarah felt a rush of excitement. Thank you, Aly.
Alysha Jefferson of Philadelphia was nobody's fool, and if Souther didn't have the balls to follow them to check if her tactics were sound or raise one of them perfectly cured eyebrows at three fledges from the same damn family, she wasn't going to waste her breath to argue. She just put her head down and did what needed to be done. 'Cause Souther, only eight years her senior, and a year out of the Academy, fought like she learned it from a book. Kinda 'cause she did.
Using hand gestures, Aly redistributed the team. Sarah and Jess went to higher ground - their best long range, steady, shooters no matter what Miss Asshat English said. Sarah went up the oak flanking one side of the plot, and Jess nestled behind the huge angel statue on the other side. Aly, Amy and Kelly would triangulate the position from the ground - Amy and Kel facing out into the darkness, watching for incoming visitors and Aly herself keeping closest to the graves. The girls nodded with satisfaction and relief as they got into place.
Angel smiled to himself from his vantage point. The girls had more sense about tactics than their watcher. He stiffened slightly, scenting two other vampires closing in on their position from the north - Sarah's position. Moonrise was soon. Hopefully the girls would sense the sire - or sires- first.
A scream shattered the night - Souther, evidently had picked up some company. Great Jessica squeaked and slipped slightly, knocking her chin on the angel's shoulder. Angel caught a very faint whiff of blood - she must have bitten her tongue, poor kid. Her quiver of crossbow bolts fell to the ground. Angel sighed. Aly dispached Kelly to handle rescuing their watcher, and the girl took off.
The thwang of an arrow being released from Sarah's position caught his attention next - and Angel could hear the anguished "No!" of one of the vamps as the other dusted. Jessica had heard it too, and settled herself to draw on the second target, who had broken her way. She fired, and the vampire, a female, screamed, but didn't dust and kept running.
"Sarah," Aly called, hoping she'd had time to reload. Sarah didn't bother to answer, loosing her second bolt. It landed just short. Another clatter and Jessica was off her statue and running for the escaping vampire.
"Jess! No!" Aly shouted, but the gangling girl put on a burst of speed.
"My fault!" she called back.
And then there was no more time to argue, because the Alberforth family was rising.
Taking a shower while half-pissed was a challenge. However, if it meant not offending Wesley's sensitive senses, Giles was determined to meet it head on, though, hopefully, not literally.
Managing to spray himself with a burst of ice-cold water finished the job the coffee had begun and by the time he'd finished, he felt a great deal more clear headed and . . . oddly happy. Not that he hadn't been before, of course. The last month with Wesley had been more than he'd hoped for, but there were always other worries. Council business, the looming apocalypse and the frustration of failing to find anything useful about it, the Slayers and trying to find ways of training them without destroying them.
Giles sighed, shaking off those thoughts, determined to cling to this good mood while it lasted. Besides, Wesley was waiting for him. On the couch. With the biscuits. Smiling, Giles made a quick job of drying off and brushing his teeth.
He reached for his clothing and paused, realizing he hadn't though to go and get a change of clothes before coming into the bathroom. He glanced over at the pile of what he had been wearing and shuddered. There was so simply no way he was going to put those on again.
Wrapping a towel tightly around his waist, Giles glanced at himself in the mirror. He looked less like a man that had spent the evening playing darts and drinking pints and more like a man one wouldn't mind curling up with on the couch. 'One' being Wesley, of course. Giles shook his head at himself.
Putting his dirty clothes in the basket, Giles left the bathroom and found himself face to face with Wesley in the hallway.
"I . . ." Wesley's eyes raked his body and Giles' mouth went dry at the look in those gorgeous blue eyes. "I was just coming to, uh, make certain you hadn't fallen or, uh . . ." Wesley's adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. "Anything."
"How thoughtful," Giles said lightly, though his breathing had picked up at Wesley's obvious distraction and he was a tad embarrassed to find his cock hardening just as Wes' presence. Even more so considering it was hardly hidden without only a towel wrapped around his waist. Not that a Kevlar tuxedo could have hidden such a thing from Wesley's sense.
"You're, uh, obviously . . ." Wesley bit his lip, taking a deep breath and his eyes flickering shut. Giles had to squash the urge to lean in and lick over the man's mouth, taste him. He was well acquainted with where that path would lead and it wasn't to a quiet evening on the couch. No, that path would lead them both to their separate bedrooms.
"I'm fine," Giles replied with a smile. "Just, uh, popping into the bedroom for some clothes."
"Right." Wesley seemed to gather himself then. His eyes opening and snapping to Giles' face. He smiled, shaking his head and letting out a small laugh. "I'm sorry. I'll, uh, let you do that." Wesley turned and headed back toward the living room, but not before Giles saw the lovely little blush creeping up his neck.
Smiling to himself, Giles went to his bedroom. He shut the door and leaned against it for a moment, glancing down at the towel around his waist. "Traitor," he mumbled at his cock before snorting at himself. Lovely, now he was talking to it. Wesley was driving him thoroughly around the bend. Of course, Giles couldn't say he wasn't enjoying the ride.
Picking out something both comfortable and soft, Giles quickly changed, but his mind was more on Wesley than on what he was doing. He fully understood why Wes wanted to go slowly with this, was more than willing to move at his lover's pace. Not only had Wesley never been with another man, but the intensity of his senses . . . Giles had once watched as the man nearly came just from Giles stroking his neck. While it held definite possibilities for later, he could understand why Wesley was reluctant to go further just yet. Giles was rather enjoying it actually; the slow build of tension between them was unlike anything he'd ever experienced, though . . . Jenny had been close.
Sighing, Giles pushed those thoughts away quickly, before he became maudlin and therefore not at all good company. Dressed, he left his bedroom and found Wesley just where he'd expected he would. Wes looked up at him, smiling.
"Uh, sorry about that. I found myself momentarily stunned."
Giles raised his eyebrows, grinning as he moved to sit next to Wesley, reaching for one of the biscuits set out on the table. "Stunned, you say?"
"Rupert? If I had walked out of the bathroom, still slightly wet, in nothing but a towel . . ."
Giles almost felt his eyes glaze over, cock once again twitching. He cleared his throat, only then remembering that he'd been chewing. Swallowing he turned a mock glare on Wesley. "That wasn't very nice," he said softly, smiling and completely ruining his mock glare. "I could have choked."
Wesley laughed, shaking his head and leaning against Giles' side. "Well, then we're even, aren't we?" Wesley pressed a kiss to Giles' arm, momentarily burying his nose as well. "Hmmm. You smell wonderful."
"Do I?" Giles asked, raising an eyebrow and leaning closer to Wesley. When there faces were so close that he could feel Wesley's fast paced breathing, he stopped, their lips almost touching.
"Mmm-hmm and it's getting better with every second," Wesley replied, his voice half-wistful. "I love the way you smell."
"Hmm. I'd never actually thought that would be something I'd enjoy hearing as much as I do." Giles commented, relishing the way Wesley's lips and his almost touched as they spoke.
"Yes, but I'm a special case, aren't I?" Wesley replied, his hand stealing slowly up Giles' thigh.
"In every way," Giles said softly, closing the gap between them. Wesley swayed forward to meet him, the kiss hardly more than a chaste press of lips at first and then Wesley's tongue swept out, licking over his lips. Giles groaned, opening to his lover. Their tongues rubbed together, lips pressing hard as they tasted one another. Giles moved his hands to pull Wesley closer and Wes moaned into his mouth. Giles could help but echo the sound as the kiss ended and he pulled away.
Wes smiled at him, grabbing the throw blanket off the back of the couch and covering them both with it. "So, how was your evening with Spike?"
Giles chuckled, leaning his cheek on the back of the sofa. "Darts. Pints. Conversation. Typical. The man has a knack for zeroing in on exactly what one doesn't want to talk about it and then making it impossible not to." Giles was aware of the fond tone of his voice, but chose to ignore it. He was still having a bit of trouble thinking of Spike as his friend.
Wesley laughed, leaning against him once again. "I know exactly the knack of which you speak. He's not shy about using it, either." Giles slipped an arm around Wesley, shifting in a slight more comfortable position. He was getting rather good at find positions that didn't press his cock into his zipper.
"And how did it go with Angel?" Giles was almost tempted to call him 'hairboy' again. However, considering Wesley's obvious urge to talk, he could tell something significant had happened and Wesley wanted to discuss it. Not the time for jokes.
"He's doing much better," Wesley said, flashing him a smile. "He's agreed to . . . uh, lurk. Which, for Angel, is a big step." Wesley laughed, a purely happy sound without any of the sarcasm both of them so often used. It made Giles smile just to hear it. "He's out with Sarah's group right now. I, uh, thought his meeting Souther would . . . add some incentive." There was a wicked little smile on Wesley's face.
Giles had to chuckle at that, though a moment later a serious thought occurred to him. "Did, uh, did you mention what Souther and the others suggested we do to Spike?" He had more than just the obvious reasons for asking. He knew Spike would want to know Angel's reaction to that news, whether Spike would ever admit it or not.
"Yes, I told him. He was . . . less then thrilled. Outraged, in fact. I think the entire neighborhood heard him." Wesley gave Giles another of those wicked little smile. Giles chuckled, shaking his head.
"I suppose that grin is to let me know you're aware of why I asked?"
Wesley nodded slowly, still grinning.
Giles laughed at himself. "I'm looking after Spike's well being, aren't I?"
"You're trying," Wesley answered, rather smugly. "Of course, that's what one does for friends."
Giles grumbled nonsense under his breath before shaking his head at himself. "That's a notion it's going to take a while for me to process," he sighed, reaching for another biscuit. He got it halfway to his mouth before Wesley ducked in to steal it. Giles knew it was absolutely intentional that Wesley's lips and teeth skimmed over his fingers before closing around the biscuit.
Giles drew in a sharp breath, raising an eyebrow at Wesley. Wesley only smiled innocently, chewing happily on his biscuit. "That was hardly fair," Giles said, trying for a stern tone and find it came out rather hoarse instead.
Wesley chuckled and leaned in again, his tongue darting out to lick a smear of melted chocolate from Giles' index finger. Giles gasped again when Wesley's mouth closed over his finger, teeth skimming gently over it as Wes pulled away. His breathing suddenly quicker than it had been a moment again, it took Giles a moment to stop blinking and focus on string his words together.
"And look at that," Wesley murmured happily, "Suddenly you smell even more wonderful than you did before."
Giles swallowed hard and decided against words, instead he darted in and captured Wesley's lips.
-----
Wesley moaned, nipping at Rupert's lips and then soothing them with his tongue. He pressed closer to his boyfriend, his arms circling Rupert's neck and tangling in his hair. They were both up on their knees on the couch and Wesley couldn't stop his hips from jerking forward, rubbing his erection hard against Rupert's. He groaned at the feel, so intense, like sparks zipping along his nerves. His skin tingled all over, hot prickles of sensation pouring over him from the pressure of Rupert's body against his.
Rupert began kissing his neck, scraping sharp teeth down to his shoulder. Wesley found himself panting, his hands trying to map out every inch of Rupert's back and sides even as the feel of Rupert's fingers against his skin was slowly overwhelming him. Rupert's lips were soft, a lovely contrast to the hint of roughness created by barely emerging stubble. Rupert knew how to use it all so well. He rubbed his cheek against Wesley's shoulder and Wes whimpered. Wesley was breathing hard, the sound of his and Rupert's hearts filling his ears, a backdrop to the wonderful sounds Rupert was making.
"You feel so damn good," Rupert murmured against his skin and Wesley groaned, his fingers slipping into the waistband of Rupert's jeans and plunging lower. He dragged his fingers up Rupert's arse, tilting his head back. He felt out of control, racing toward something he couldn't see. Rupert sucked at his neck and Wesley all but screamed, throwing his head back, his hips jerking forward hard.
He was being pulled under by it all, overwhelmed by the sensations as Rupert's cock pushed hard against his own. Guiltily, he pulled away, shooting Rupert an apologetic look as he moved away. "I'm . . . s-sorry," Wesley said, voice strangled and rough as he fought to breath deeply, which only brought that wonderful, enticing scent deeper into his lungs. "I . . . I have to go," he said, unable to look at Rupert as he stood and began to leave.
He stopped without turning around when Rupert spoke.
"Wes?" Rupert knew better than to touch him now, a fact for which Wesley was immensely grateful. Wesley hated this part, leaving them both frustrated, forcing them both to seek the comfort of their own hands or go without. Not that either of them usually did.
Wesley had spent many a night lying in bed, ears tuned to sounds too soft for even him to hear. He could smell it though, Rupert's arousal soaring higher and higher until it spiked and flooded the flat. He'd also spent many a night touching himself, the pace of his hand over his achingly hard cock dictated by how quickly Rupert's scent was intensifying. Rupert, he thought, had no idea how often they actually had come together. Once or twice, he'd thought he'd heard Rupert's voice saying his name, hoarse with longing. It could have been his imagination, of course, but it made him both hard and sad.
"Yes, Rupert?" he said softly, calming a bit. Both his and Rupert's scents were still heavy in the air, but without Rupert's body against his it was no longer quite so overwhelming.
"This is not something for which you ever have to apologize to me." There was a firmness in Rupert's tone that said he meant it, completely and totally. Wesley smiled, albeit a bit sadly. He knew that. He did. Rupert had said it enough that he should have known the words were coming. It hardly matter when Wesley wanted nothing more than to crawl into Rupert's bed, feel the man naked against him and . . . god, he couldn't even think about it in his current state. At this rate he'd have to calm down even before he let himself masturbate. He wasn't sure that wouldn't overwhelm at the moment.
"I know. Good night."
"Good night, Wesley. Sleep well."
"Not very likely. Not for a while at least," Wesley laughed, but even he could hear the slightly frayed edge of it. He had to get over this fear, had to master it, but when he was with Rupert it was all so intense and . . . he could run right up to the edge of the cliff, but never jump off. He didn't know what would happen if he let himself be overwhelmed.
"Don't feel lonely," there was a smile in Rupert's voice. It helped a great deal.
Okay, maybe that was a little harsh. But he'd seen, briefly the sheen of tears in one of the slayer's eyes at a casually tossed off remark.
"And Jessica?" Miss Souther said as she ended her instructions for the evening, "I've just recalibrated that crossbow, so please try not to trip over your own feet tonight, will you?"
"Yes, Miss Souther." The poor girl had nodded briskly and kept a brave face. Angel hoped she'd use that hurt to fuel her fighting and not let it rattle her. As the girls fanned out, he saw Sarah brush by Jessica and whisper something that made the girl smile and stand taller.
That's my girl, He wished he could have heard what Sarah had said but he was trying to stay out of the range of their "spidey sense" for sensing vampires. She'd obviously pitched her voice for slayer hearing - if a normal human had whispered, he'd have heard it.
The vampire glanced over at the watcher, and rolled his eyes. Clipboard and stopwatch in hand, she'd set herself up on the steps of a small family mausoleum. Not the hands on type, obviously. He wished he'd heard her whole set of instructions. Surely Giles didn't want his watchers sitting on their duffs out here. She was a sitting duck. You better have a stake on you, Souther.
He'd just circle around and see how the girls were doing.
~~~
Sarah took a few deep breaths to dispel some tension. Tonight was kind of different - the possible fledges to rise were related - a mom and dad and teenage son - so the graves were close together. Souther had told them to basically box them in and wait for them to rise - keeping them surrounded until they could dust them all.
Sarah had asked if maybe they should be on the lookout for a sire - turning a family like that seemed to set off alarm bells, at least for her. If so, wouldn't having all of them out in the open like that be showing their hand - it had to be kind of a strong vamp to turn so many at once right? Even if they were just gonna be minions - it was a lot of blood to lose, even for a vamp. But Souther had given her one of those, "I'll do the thinking, you do the slaying," looks that made her wish things were different.
She understood when Wes said that he was rather desperately needed in research - so many of the watcher's killed in the explosion of the old council were the braniac type and Wes knew like a gazillion languages and knew all about making contacts and gathering information. Damn him.
Sarah still wished he could have taken her though, even though he got this really sad little smile on his face and said, "Oh, Sarah, you deserve someone with a far better record with his slayer." Who knew what that was all about?
Giles or Spike would have been awesome, though of course, they so didn't have time, since they were kind of in charge of running things or training everybody.
It would have been nice to have someone who actually looked at her when she spoke, or listened to her ideas. At least she got to go out with Spike everyonce in a while, though it made a vein pop out on Souther's forehead, which in Sarah's book, made it all the more fun. Wes had taken her to a couple of really cool art shows and after her first night back patrolling, Giles had taken her for ice cream. So that was really cool.
She tried not to think about Elijah Murphy, her first watcher. He was so nice and funny and smart and he listened to "his supergirls." Amy and Kelly had had weeks to get used to Miss Souther, but to tell the truth, none of them liked her at all. They all still cried sometimes, missing him. At least they had each other to talk to about that.
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Sarah's jaw flexed as she remembered how Souther cut Jess down in front of everybody. Even at fourteen, Sarah knew that humilation not the way to motivate the shy girl. Taller than most girls her age - nearly six feet tall at fourteen - Jessica Saunders was acutely aware of the size of her feet. Right at the tail end of a huge growth spurt, she got Called, and it was like the long distance service from her brain when she was running or fighting was kinda spotty sometimes - it was like her body didn't realize how long her arms and legs were yet. Jess'd said on more than one occasion that the best part was the slayer healing, 'cause otherwise she'd be all bumps and bruises.
The team got themselves in position - a loose circle around the Alberforth family plot. Sarah looked a question over to Alysha, at sixteen, their team leader. Aly nodded at Sarah, then caught the other girls' eyes, her jaw set stubbornly, and Sarah felt a rush of excitement. Thank you, Aly.
Alysha Jefferson of Philadelphia was nobody's fool, and if Souther didn't have the balls to follow them to check if her tactics were sound or raise one of them perfectly cured eyebrows at three fledges from the same damn family, she wasn't going to waste her breath to argue. She just put her head down and did what needed to be done. 'Cause Souther, only eight years her senior, and a year out of the Academy, fought like she learned it from a book. Kinda 'cause she did.
Using hand gestures, Aly redistributed the team. Sarah and Jess went to higher ground - their best long range, steady, shooters no matter what Miss Asshat English said. Sarah went up the oak flanking one side of the plot, and Jess nestled behind the huge angel statue on the other side. Aly, Amy and Kelly would triangulate the position from the ground - Amy and Kel facing out into the darkness, watching for incoming visitors and Aly herself keeping closest to the graves. The girls nodded with satisfaction and relief as they got into place.
Angel smiled to himself from his vantage point. The girls had more sense about tactics than their watcher. He stiffened slightly, scenting two other vampires closing in on their position from the north - Sarah's position. Moonrise was soon. Hopefully the girls would sense the sire - or sires- first.
A scream shattered the night - Souther, evidently had picked up some company. Great Jessica squeaked and slipped slightly, knocking her chin on the angel's shoulder. Angel caught a very faint whiff of blood - she must have bitten her tongue, poor kid. Her quiver of crossbow bolts fell to the ground. Angel sighed. Aly dispached Kelly to handle rescuing their watcher, and the girl took off.
The thwang of an arrow being released from Sarah's position caught his attention next - and Angel could hear the anguished "No!" of one of the vamps as the other dusted. Jessica had heard it too, and settled herself to draw on the second target, who had broken her way. She fired, and the vampire, a female, screamed, but didn't dust and kept running.
"Sarah," Aly called, hoping she'd had time to reload. Sarah didn't bother to answer, loosing her second bolt. It landed just short. Another clatter and Jessica was off her statue and running for the escaping vampire.
"Jess! No!" Aly shouted, but the gangling girl put on a burst of speed.
"My fault!" she called back.
And then there was no more time to argue, because the Alberforth family was rising.
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Managing to spray himself with a burst of ice-cold water finished the job the coffee had begun and by the time he'd finished, he felt a great deal more clear headed and . . . oddly happy. Not that he hadn't been before, of course. The last month with Wesley had been more than he'd hoped for, but there were always other worries. Council business, the looming apocalypse and the frustration of failing to find anything useful about it, the Slayers and trying to find ways of training them without destroying them.
Giles sighed, shaking off those thoughts, determined to cling to this good mood while it lasted. Besides, Wesley was waiting for him. On the couch. With the biscuits. Smiling, Giles made a quick job of drying off and brushing his teeth.
He reached for his clothing and paused, realizing he hadn't though to go and get a change of clothes before coming into the bathroom. He glanced over at the pile of what he had been wearing and shuddered. There was so simply no way he was going to put those on again.
Wrapping a towel tightly around his waist, Giles glanced at himself in the mirror. He looked less like a man that had spent the evening playing darts and drinking pints and more like a man one wouldn't mind curling up with on the couch. 'One' being Wesley, of course. Giles shook his head at himself.
Putting his dirty clothes in the basket, Giles left the bathroom and found himself face to face with Wesley in the hallway.
"I . . ." Wesley's eyes raked his body and Giles' mouth went dry at the look in those gorgeous blue eyes. "I was just coming to, uh, make certain you hadn't fallen or, uh . . ." Wesley's adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. "Anything."
"How thoughtful," Giles said lightly, though his breathing had picked up at Wesley's obvious distraction and he was a tad embarrassed to find his cock hardening just as Wes' presence. Even more so considering it was hardly hidden without only a towel wrapped around his waist. Not that a Kevlar tuxedo could have hidden such a thing from Wesley's sense.
"You're, uh, obviously . . ." Wesley bit his lip, taking a deep breath and his eyes flickering shut. Giles had to squash the urge to lean in and lick over the man's mouth, taste him. He was well acquainted with where that path would lead and it wasn't to a quiet evening on the couch. No, that path would lead them both to their separate bedrooms.
"I'm fine," Giles replied with a smile. "Just, uh, popping into the bedroom for some clothes."
"Right." Wesley seemed to gather himself then. His eyes opening and snapping to Giles' face. He smiled, shaking his head and letting out a small laugh. "I'm sorry. I'll, uh, let you do that." Wesley turned and headed back toward the living room, but not before Giles saw the lovely little blush creeping up his neck.
Smiling to himself, Giles went to his bedroom. He shut the door and leaned against it for a moment, glancing down at the towel around his waist. "Traitor," he mumbled at his cock before snorting at himself. Lovely, now he was talking to it. Wesley was driving him thoroughly around the bend. Of course, Giles couldn't say he wasn't enjoying the ride.
Picking out something both comfortable and soft, Giles quickly changed, but his mind was more on Wesley than on what he was doing. He fully understood why Wes wanted to go slowly with this, was more than willing to move at his lover's pace. Not only had Wesley never been with another man, but the intensity of his senses . . . Giles had once watched as the man nearly came just from Giles stroking his neck. While it held definite possibilities for later, he could understand why Wesley was reluctant to go further just yet. Giles was rather enjoying it actually; the slow build of tension between them was unlike anything he'd ever experienced, though . . . Jenny had been close.
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"Uh, sorry about that. I found myself momentarily stunned."
Giles raised his eyebrows, grinning as he moved to sit next to Wesley, reaching for one of the biscuits set out on the table. "Stunned, you say?"
"Rupert? If I had walked out of the bathroom, still slightly wet, in nothing but a towel . . ."
Giles almost felt his eyes glaze over, cock once again twitching. He cleared his throat, only then remembering that he'd been chewing. Swallowing he turned a mock glare on Wesley. "That wasn't very nice," he said softly, smiling and completely ruining his mock glare. "I could have choked."
Wesley laughed, shaking his head and leaning against Giles' side. "Well, then we're even, aren't we?" Wesley pressed a kiss to Giles' arm, momentarily burying his nose as well. "Hmmm. You smell wonderful."
"Do I?" Giles asked, raising an eyebrow and leaning closer to Wesley. When there faces were so close that he could feel Wesley's fast paced breathing, he stopped, their lips almost touching.
"Mmm-hmm and it's getting better with every second," Wesley replied, his voice half-wistful. "I love the way you smell."
"Hmm. I'd never actually thought that would be something I'd enjoy hearing as much as I do." Giles commented, relishing the way Wesley's lips and his almost touched as they spoke.
"Yes, but I'm a special case, aren't I?" Wesley replied, his hand stealing slowly up Giles' thigh.
"In every way," Giles said softly, closing the gap between them. Wesley swayed forward to meet him, the kiss hardly more than a chaste press of lips at first and then Wesley's tongue swept out, licking over his lips. Giles groaned, opening to his lover. Their tongues rubbed together, lips pressing hard as they tasted one another. Giles moved his hands to pull Wesley closer and Wes moaned into his mouth. Giles could help but echo the sound as the kiss ended and he pulled away.
Wes smiled at him, grabbing the throw blanket off the back of the couch and covering them both with it. "So, how was your evening with Spike?"
Giles chuckled, leaning his cheek on the back of the sofa. "Darts. Pints. Conversation. Typical. The man has a knack for zeroing in on exactly what one doesn't want to talk about it and then making it impossible not to." Giles was aware of the fond tone of his voice, but chose to ignore it. He was still having a bit of trouble thinking of Spike as his friend.
Wesley laughed, leaning against him once again. "I know exactly the knack of which you speak. He's not shy about using it, either." Giles slipped an arm around Wesley, shifting in a slight more comfortable position. He was getting rather good at find positions that didn't press his cock into his zipper.
"And how did it go with Angel?" Giles was almost tempted to call him 'hairboy' again. However, considering Wesley's obvious urge to talk, he could tell something significant had happened and Wesley wanted to discuss it. Not the time for jokes.
"He's doing much better," Wesley said, flashing him a smile. "He's agreed to . . . uh, lurk. Which, for Angel, is a big step." Wesley laughed, a purely happy sound without any of the sarcasm both of them so often used. It made Giles smile just to hear it. "He's out with Sarah's group right now. I, uh, thought his meeting Souther would . . . add some incentive." There was a wicked little smile on Wesley's face.
Giles had to chuckle at that, though a moment later a serious thought occurred to him. "Did, uh, did you mention what Souther and the others suggested we do to Spike?" He had more than just the obvious reasons for asking. He knew Spike would want to know Angel's reaction to that news, whether Spike would ever admit it or not.
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"I suppose that grin is to let me know you're aware of why I asked?"
Wesley nodded slowly, still grinning.
Giles laughed at himself. "I'm looking after Spike's well being, aren't I?"
"You're trying," Wesley answered, rather smugly. "Of course, that's what one does for friends."
Giles grumbled nonsense under his breath before shaking his head at himself. "That's a notion it's going to take a while for me to process," he sighed, reaching for another biscuit. He got it halfway to his mouth before Wesley ducked in to steal it. Giles knew it was absolutely intentional that Wesley's lips and teeth skimmed over his fingers before closing around the biscuit.
Giles drew in a sharp breath, raising an eyebrow at Wesley. Wesley only smiled innocently, chewing happily on his biscuit. "That was hardly fair," Giles said, trying for a stern tone and find it came out rather hoarse instead.
Wesley chuckled and leaned in again, his tongue darting out to lick a smear of melted chocolate from Giles' index finger. Giles gasped again when Wesley's mouth closed over his finger, teeth skimming gently over it as Wes pulled away. His breathing suddenly quicker than it had been a moment again, it took Giles a moment to stop blinking and focus on string his words together.
"And look at that," Wesley murmured happily, "Suddenly you smell even more wonderful than you did before."
Giles swallowed hard and decided against words, instead he darted in and captured Wesley's lips.
-----
Wesley moaned, nipping at Rupert's lips and then soothing them with his tongue. He pressed closer to his boyfriend, his arms circling Rupert's neck and tangling in his hair. They were both up on their knees on the couch and Wesley couldn't stop his hips from jerking forward, rubbing his erection hard against Rupert's. He groaned at the feel, so intense, like sparks zipping along his nerves. His skin tingled all over, hot prickles of sensation pouring over him from the pressure of Rupert's body against his.
Rupert began kissing his neck, scraping sharp teeth down to his shoulder. Wesley found himself panting, his hands trying to map out every inch of Rupert's back and sides even as the feel of Rupert's fingers against his skin was slowly overwhelming him. Rupert's lips were soft, a lovely contrast to the hint of roughness created by barely emerging stubble. Rupert knew how to use it all so well. He rubbed his cheek against Wesley's shoulder and Wes whimpered. Wesley was breathing hard, the sound of his and Rupert's hearts filling his ears, a backdrop to the wonderful sounds Rupert was making.
"You feel so damn good," Rupert murmured against his skin and Wesley groaned, his fingers slipping into the waistband of Rupert's jeans and plunging lower. He dragged his fingers up Rupert's arse, tilting his head back. He felt out of control, racing toward something he couldn't see. Rupert sucked at his neck and Wesley all but screamed, throwing his head back, his hips jerking forward hard.
He was being pulled under by it all, overwhelmed by the sensations as Rupert's cock pushed hard against his own. Guiltily, he pulled away, shooting Rupert an apologetic look as he moved away. "I'm . . . s-sorry," Wesley said, voice strangled and rough as he fought to breath deeply, which only brought that wonderful, enticing scent deeper into his lungs. "I . . . I have to go," he said, unable to look at Rupert as he stood and began to leave.
He stopped without turning around when Rupert spoke.
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Wesley had spent many a night lying in bed, ears tuned to sounds too soft for even him to hear. He could smell it though, Rupert's arousal soaring higher and higher until it spiked and flooded the flat. He'd also spent many a night touching himself, the pace of his hand over his achingly hard cock dictated by how quickly Rupert's scent was intensifying. Rupert, he thought, had no idea how often they actually had come together. Once or twice, he'd thought he'd heard Rupert's voice saying his name, hoarse with longing. It could have been his imagination, of course, but it made him both hard and sad.
"Yes, Rupert?" he said softly, calming a bit. Both his and Rupert's scents were still heavy in the air, but without Rupert's body against his it was no longer quite so overwhelming.
"This is not something for which you ever have to apologize to me." There was a firmness in Rupert's tone that said he meant it, completely and totally. Wesley smiled, albeit a bit sadly. He knew that. He did. Rupert had said it enough that he should have known the words were coming. It hardly matter when Wesley wanted nothing more than to crawl into Rupert's bed, feel the man naked against him and . . . god, he couldn't even think about it in his current state. At this rate he'd have to calm down even before he let himself masturbate. He wasn't sure that wouldn't overwhelm at the moment.
"I know. Good night."
"Good night, Wesley. Sleep well."
"Not very likely. Not for a while at least," Wesley laughed, but even he could hear the slightly frayed edge of it. He had to get over this fear, had to master it, but when he was with Rupert it was all so intense and . . . he could run right up to the edge of the cliff, but never jump off. He didn't know what would happen if he let himself be overwhelmed.
"Don't feel lonely," there was a smile in Rupert's voice. It helped a great deal.
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