Fic: Reenactments, Giles/Wesley, R
Title: Reenactments
Author: Lostgirl
Pairing: Giles/Wesley
Rating: R
Summary: Trust changes everything.
Spoilers: Er, none.
Warnings: Bondage, D/s
Feedback and Concrit adored: lostgirlslair@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: All things BtVS and AtS belong to Joss Whedon and various corporate entities. I am neither.
Big, huge thanks to taffimai for the beta magic!
glimmergirl, this was supposed to be your Daddy!kink, but . . . it didn't come out that way. Sorry, sweetie. I'll write you something else if you like.
"Tonight?" Wesley knew he sounded desperate, more so than he normally would even with Rupert's hand moving over his hard shaft, thumb flicking up and over the head of his cock.
"Tonight." Rupert's voice was hoarse, his breath hot against Wesley's neck. It calmed the fear, soothed it. Rupert's hand stilled and Wesley whimpered as his lover moved to put the cockring on him.
Wesley remembers every moment of that earlier encounter. His mind moves over it again and again, mental fingers rubbing the fabric of it in soothing strokes. He's been left to wait for what feels like days. He knows it can't be though. Days haven't passed because Rupert never forgets him. There isn't much room in the wardrobe, the tight space makes the air seem hot and stale, used and reused. He fights to keep his breathing under control, fights to keep the panic under control, curled up in its own tight little ball. Everything is fine, will be fine.
His wrists were first, always first. Wesley sat, pliant but trembling, on the floor of the wardrobe, his feet on the floor outside. He watched his lover's hands as Rupert tied his wrists in front of him. Not tight, not yet, but Wesley shivered at the feel of soft silk twining around them, sinuously brushing his skin.
Wesley can hear them all. Buffy, Willow, Xander, Oz, all of them down there researching and chattering. Rupert's voice is the least often heard. Wesley strains for it, relaxing just a little whenever he hears it. Rupert's nearby and Rupert won't forget him.
He waits, curled in on himself, his position pressing his hard cock between thighs and stomach. The friction of his own movements almost pulls a whimper out of him, but Rupert would be angry if he wasn't quiet. So he forces himself to keep still, unwilling to take that risk again. If he's good, if he can wait until the others have gone and Rupert's ready, he'll get a reward. His cock is so hard it aches, restrained by the cockring that presses into his sensitive flesh.
"Feet up."
Wesley responded immediately, moving into the position he knew Rupert wanted. He put his back against one side of the wardrobe, took deep breaths as Rupert tied his ankles as well. Rupert ran the silk along his thigh, down his leg, letting the silk draw a gasp from Wesley.
Those sounds were allowed, for the moment. Their eyes met. Rupert gave him a reassuring smile and Wesley shivered as the ties around his wrists and ankles are connected, holding him in position.
It had never been possible to be good enough before. He was never quiet enough, never still enough, never smart enough. The closet had been a punishment then, but now it is something else, a test, one he can pass. He's done it before, glowed with pride when Rupert smiles and kisses him and tells him he's been a good boy. Rupert never, ever forgets him.
The clatter of the others leaving reaches Wesley. He startles, the hair on his stomach rubbing over his hypersensitive cock. A moan tries to work its way past his lips, but Wesley buries his head against his knees and grits his teeth. He won't do something bad now, not when he's so close, he won't let himself.
The blindfold is last, every time. Wesley closed his eyes and felt Rupert's fingers against his skin. He concentrates on them, on the feel of slightly calloused fingers instead of the feel of the fabric. When Rupert was finished and it was all darkness, Rupert leaned in and kissed his forehead
Rupert will be up soon. Wesley can't hear the soft noises of him cleaning up, but he can imagine them and he does. The rhythmic thunks of Rupert putting books away, the swish of papers being set aside, the rustle of the trash bag as things were straightened. There is nothing else in the darkness, no other distraction from the tightness.
"Shh," Rupert said as he checked and tightened the knots that bound Wesley's wrist to his ankles. Wesley thought he might have whimpered and bit his bottom lip to keep it from happening again.
The creak of the stairs sends a throb to his cock and Wesley has to bite his lip to keep the sounds inside. There is movement outside, but Wesley doesn't presume, doesn't as much as squirm. He stays still, keeps his breathing as even as he can manage, waiting, waiting.
"Rupert will be back for you," is all the comfort he's given.
It was more than Father ever gave him. Wesley nodded forcing air in and out of his lungs, even though it pushed his chest out, forced his aching cock against the roughly haired skin of his legs. He concentrated on that, on the sensations of it, as the doors closed.
The door to the wardrobe opens, Rupert kneeling down beside him. "Wesley?"
"Yes, Rupert?" He tries to keep his voice even, tries not to let it get away from him.
"Would you like to come out now?" Rupert's hands are on him, taking off the blindfold and then stroking soothingly over his hair, neck and back. Rupert always knows what he needs and he never forgets.
"Yes." Wesley is afraid to move, though. If he moves something will rub against his cock and he isn't sure he's allowed to make those noises yet. Rupert reaches in, helping him, untying the ropes that hold his wrists against his ankles and pulling Wesley's feet out of the cramped space.
Rupert holds out an arm and Wesley clutches at it, letting himself be pulled to his feet. His legs tremble from being crunched tight against him for so long, his knees threaten to buckle. Rupert holds him up, helps him to the bed where Wesley lies down and stretches out. Rupert sits beside him, big hands rubbing firmly against the muscles in his legs.
"You were a good boy tonight," Rupert says after a moment, leaning down to kiss his forehead. Wesley ducks his head as he smiles. He's allowed to make noise now and so doesn't fight the moan that bursts from his lips as a large, warm hand moves over his cock. His hips buck into the touch and he pants, warm with arousal and the glow of pride.
Author: Lostgirl
Pairing: Giles/Wesley
Rating: R
Summary: Trust changes everything.
Spoilers: Er, none.
Warnings: Bondage, D/s
Feedback and Concrit adored: lostgirlslair@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: All things BtVS and AtS belong to Joss Whedon and various corporate entities. I am neither.
Big, huge thanks to taffimai for the beta magic!
glimmergirl, this was supposed to be your Daddy!kink, but . . . it didn't come out that way. Sorry, sweetie. I'll write you something else if you like.
"Tonight?" Wesley knew he sounded desperate, more so than he normally would even with Rupert's hand moving over his hard shaft, thumb flicking up and over the head of his cock.
"Tonight." Rupert's voice was hoarse, his breath hot against Wesley's neck. It calmed the fear, soothed it. Rupert's hand stilled and Wesley whimpered as his lover moved to put the cockring on him.
Wesley remembers every moment of that earlier encounter. His mind moves over it again and again, mental fingers rubbing the fabric of it in soothing strokes. He's been left to wait for what feels like days. He knows it can't be though. Days haven't passed because Rupert never forgets him. There isn't much room in the wardrobe, the tight space makes the air seem hot and stale, used and reused. He fights to keep his breathing under control, fights to keep the panic under control, curled up in its own tight little ball. Everything is fine, will be fine.
His wrists were first, always first. Wesley sat, pliant but trembling, on the floor of the wardrobe, his feet on the floor outside. He watched his lover's hands as Rupert tied his wrists in front of him. Not tight, not yet, but Wesley shivered at the feel of soft silk twining around them, sinuously brushing his skin.
Wesley can hear them all. Buffy, Willow, Xander, Oz, all of them down there researching and chattering. Rupert's voice is the least often heard. Wesley strains for it, relaxing just a little whenever he hears it. Rupert's nearby and Rupert won't forget him.
He waits, curled in on himself, his position pressing his hard cock between thighs and stomach. The friction of his own movements almost pulls a whimper out of him, but Rupert would be angry if he wasn't quiet. So he forces himself to keep still, unwilling to take that risk again. If he's good, if he can wait until the others have gone and Rupert's ready, he'll get a reward. His cock is so hard it aches, restrained by the cockring that presses into his sensitive flesh.
"Feet up."
Wesley responded immediately, moving into the position he knew Rupert wanted. He put his back against one side of the wardrobe, took deep breaths as Rupert tied his ankles as well. Rupert ran the silk along his thigh, down his leg, letting the silk draw a gasp from Wesley.
Those sounds were allowed, for the moment. Their eyes met. Rupert gave him a reassuring smile and Wesley shivered as the ties around his wrists and ankles are connected, holding him in position.
It had never been possible to be good enough before. He was never quiet enough, never still enough, never smart enough. The closet had been a punishment then, but now it is something else, a test, one he can pass. He's done it before, glowed with pride when Rupert smiles and kisses him and tells him he's been a good boy. Rupert never, ever forgets him.
The clatter of the others leaving reaches Wesley. He startles, the hair on his stomach rubbing over his hypersensitive cock. A moan tries to work its way past his lips, but Wesley buries his head against his knees and grits his teeth. He won't do something bad now, not when he's so close, he won't let himself.
The blindfold is last, every time. Wesley closed his eyes and felt Rupert's fingers against his skin. He concentrates on them, on the feel of slightly calloused fingers instead of the feel of the fabric. When Rupert was finished and it was all darkness, Rupert leaned in and kissed his forehead
Rupert will be up soon. Wesley can't hear the soft noises of him cleaning up, but he can imagine them and he does. The rhythmic thunks of Rupert putting books away, the swish of papers being set aside, the rustle of the trash bag as things were straightened. There is nothing else in the darkness, no other distraction from the tightness.
"Shh," Rupert said as he checked and tightened the knots that bound Wesley's wrist to his ankles. Wesley thought he might have whimpered and bit his bottom lip to keep it from happening again.
The creak of the stairs sends a throb to his cock and Wesley has to bite his lip to keep the sounds inside. There is movement outside, but Wesley doesn't presume, doesn't as much as squirm. He stays still, keeps his breathing as even as he can manage, waiting, waiting.
"Rupert will be back for you," is all the comfort he's given.
It was more than Father ever gave him. Wesley nodded forcing air in and out of his lungs, even though it pushed his chest out, forced his aching cock against the roughly haired skin of his legs. He concentrated on that, on the sensations of it, as the doors closed.
The door to the wardrobe opens, Rupert kneeling down beside him. "Wesley?"
"Yes, Rupert?" He tries to keep his voice even, tries not to let it get away from him.
"Would you like to come out now?" Rupert's hands are on him, taking off the blindfold and then stroking soothingly over his hair, neck and back. Rupert always knows what he needs and he never forgets.
"Yes." Wesley is afraid to move, though. If he moves something will rub against his cock and he isn't sure he's allowed to make those noises yet. Rupert reaches in, helping him, untying the ropes that hold his wrists against his ankles and pulling Wesley's feet out of the cramped space.
Rupert holds out an arm and Wesley clutches at it, letting himself be pulled to his feet. His legs tremble from being crunched tight against him for so long, his knees threaten to buckle. Rupert holds him up, helps him to the bed where Wesley lies down and stretches out. Rupert sits beside him, big hands rubbing firmly against the muscles in his legs.
"You were a good boy tonight," Rupert says after a moment, leaning down to kiss his forehead. Wesley ducks his head as he smiles. He's allowed to make noise now and so doesn't fight the moan that bursts from his lips as a large, warm hand moves over his cock. His hips buck into the touch and he pants, warm with arousal and the glow of pride.