Wrapping Paper



"Come on, he’s such a tasty little thing."

Giles pinched the bridge of his nose, pads of his glasses resting on his nostrils to make him look even more ridiculous. He was trapped behind the counter, unable to leave while Spike poured filth into his ear—and Spike wasn’t going to stop while Giles was effectively his prisoner. He made too good of a target, or some such. "Spike, you are dating him. You claim to love him."

When the expected ‘oi’ didn’t materialize, Giles pushed his glasses back up to actually look at Spike: blue eyes sharpened to sapphire points glittered at him, the absurdly soft mouth hardened into a thin line of disapproval, jaw muscles flexing in a way that didn’t at all imply the kind of boundless, formless rage Spike usually employed. This was something much more serious.

"You aren’t worthy of that, Rupert," Spike said quietly, suddenly no longer Felix to his boyfriend’s Oscar, but a creature that had lived for well over a century.

Giles gave a short nod to show he understood and appreciated that Spike had taken the time to prove just how much he did love Xander. "That still doesn’t explain why you’re sitting on my counter, scaring away potential customers by telling me just how—" he dropped his voice to a low hiss, "how bloody good he probably tastes!"

"Not probably. My boy’s sweet like candy-canes and just as good to suck on. Should hear the way he moans when I’ve got my mouth on him, Rupert. Can come from hearing that alone, feeling him slip down my throat like cream."

Moaning in the middle of one’s store was entirely inappropriate, even if that was what Spike was after.  At least, he hoped that was what Spike was after—he was already hard, for God’s sake.  “Spike, I’ve no doubt that you enjoy your time with Xander.  I’ve both seen and heard you express such enjoyment—you two are not exactly discreet.”

Spike shrugged at that.  “Got nothing to hide, either of us.  He’s built big, my boy is.  Hard and thick, but not so big it’s like taking a baseball bat.  Just—”

“Spike!”  The tone was supposed to firm.  Disapproving.  Controlled.  Instead, Giles heard his voice as a little desperate, with a breathiness at the end he recognized all too well.  Spike did too, the smarmy, smiling bastard.  Giles sighed, removing his glasses entirely.  “Do you want me to admit that I’m attracted to Xander?  Very well.  Admitted.”


A customer entered, momentarily distracting their conversation.  Giles knew he wasn’t fortunate enough to be released—Spike was worse than a terrier when he wanted something.  And Giles was still erect, almost painfully so.

“And?” Spike repeated as soon as the door jingled shut.

“And, what?  Spike, you’ve been here the last hour and have yet to arrive at a point.  Please do so.”

Again, Giles expected him to get annoyed or even more arrogant and infuriating, and was utterly wrong.  Spike looked sheepish.  Kicking his heels against the glass counter like a five year old boy, hesitant and unsure.  “S’not that easy,” he protested.

Curious despite himself, Giles leaned forward.  “Yes?”

“Well, he’s got a birthday coming up, doesn’t he?  Don’t got the dosh to buy him those bloody plasma tv screens he wants, and he doesn’t let me steal enough to get any other trinkets.  Gotta get him something, though, don’t I?”

Understanding dawned with a slow, syrupiness that Giles rather wished he could avoid.  “Please tell me you’re asking for a loan.”

“You’d give me one?  I mean, no, course not.”  Spike shrugged, now firmly slouched into a child’s discomfort.  “Anything costs and he’ll start asking how I got the money, feel guilty for it or some such.”

“So you’re attempting to give him something that won’t cost you anything at all.”

“Oh, it’ll cost,” Spike said easily, momentarily meeting his eyes.  “Just not in cash.  You know, I didn’t have to teach him anything when it comes to suckin’ a man’s brains out through his knob.  He’s like a puppy, all eager and hot and talented enough to make you cry.”

“Spike.  Think about this.”  Spike’s possessiveness for Xander was one of the things that had gradually won the others round to his side; for him to consider sharing, even for a night. . .  “I—I don’t wish to intrude.”

“But you do want it, don’t you?”

Impatient, Giles shook his head.  “My wants are not important, not when it comes to this.  Are you seriously suggesting that I be his—his present?”

Hopping off the counter, Spike gave a bored shrug.  “You want in, show up at our place ’round nine Friday night.  No hard feelings if you don’t.”  With his hand on the doorknob, Spike turned back, eyes downcast.  “You’re what he wants.  An’ I promised I’d give him anything he wanted.”

* * * *

The official party wasn’t until tomorrow.  Willow had primly declared that she wanted Spike to get whatever it was out of his system first, so they’d be fit for company of the under-aged variety.  Xander had blushed a dusky rose; Spike had wound around him like a randy tom, tongue curling behind his teeth in a scathingly sexual look, commenting that they were always fit for company.  Xander just blushed darker, promising they’d be okay on Saturday.

But it was still Friday.  And Giles was standing outside the apartment door, hand raised to knock, a full minute before the nine o’clock deadline.  He’d been there for several minutes, actually, unable to put knuckle to faux wood-grain.  Unable to decide if he could really go through with this.

“Thought you’d be here.”  The words floated out before the door fully opened, revealing Spike dressed only in a pair of low-slung leather pants.  “C’mon in.  He’s all set up.”

“Set up?”  Slowly entering, Giles tried to imagine what Spike possibly needed to set up with frightening results.

“Heat’s turned up, so if you wanna take your clothes off now, that’s fine,” Spike said casually.  “Can leave ’em on, though.  He likes that.”

It was very hot in the apartment, warm enough that the long-sleeved shirt Giles wore started to feel uncomfortable, but not yet hot enough to feel stifling.  Giles compromised by taking off his shoes and socks and unbuttoning the collar of his shirt.  Padding after Spike, he was led into the master bedroom to see Xander. 


Spread-eagled on his back, his limbs were down tied tightly with thick leather straps.  Another strap wrapped around his throat, so tight the skin white around the edges.  Another strip, smaller and obviously more supple, separated Xander’s sac from his body before looping around the base of his cock.  Something black and silky looking ran through his mouth, his wide eyes staring straight up towards the ceiling while his body jerked—something white and runny was sliding down his chest.  Ice cream, Giles saw, when Spike picked up the container and spooned out another dollop to dot Xander’s nipples.

“Gonna just stand there?” Spike asked, like it was no never mind to him whatever Giles chose.

Giles ought to tell Spike just how poorly he liked to Xander’s friends, but didn’t.  Instead he walked to the far side of the bed, Xander’s head twisting to follow his progress as soon as he realized Giles was there.  He looked beautiful like that—stretched out and ready, just as eager as Spike had promised.  And afraid, too.  Not a lot, true, but Giles knew what that particular combination of bravado and trembling meant.

“Hello, Xander,” he said calmly.  “Happy birthday.”  It was no longer a question of whether he should be here or not.  He was here, and the anticipation shone from Xander’s eyes, the same as a child awaiting Christmas—all but certain they were going to get the present they truly wanted, that one tiny ribbon of fear and distrust making their limbs tremble deliciously. . .

Spike was watching them.  Cool and calculating even as he lapped at trails of melted ice cream, nipping Xander’s shoulder hard enough to leave pink-white marks.  “You can touch him, Rupert,” he said.  “It’s what he wants.  Got all dressed up in his party suit, just for you.”

Giles hesitated, looking from Xander’s bound form to Spike and back.  He knew they played these types of games, but he hadn’t expected this to be the set up.  Maybe some candles, soft music, alcohol to coax a weary old Watcher into form. . .

Except that wasn’t precisely what Xander wanted, was it?  Because something like that was awkward, afterwards, closer to true emotions that none of them allowed themselves to contemplate.  But this. . . this was a role.  A way for them to enjoy a few hours of fun, without any later complications.  For any of them.

Something around his chest loosened.

“For me?”  Giles laid his hand flat on Xander’s belly.  The skin shivered under his touch, then pushed out, trying to increase the contact.  “And what would you like me to do, Xander?”

Xander started to pant, eyes wide as he shook his head.  The faint approval in Spike’s gaze reassured Giles that he was doing this correctly—and it was nice to know he hadn’t lost his ability to control a man with just his voice.  Buffy’s total disobedience—granted, in a wildly different setting—had made him wonder.

“Nothing in particular?  Oh, surely you must have some idea of what you’d like.”  Giles’ hand slipped down to rest right above the pubic bone.  After living with a vampire, Giles knew just how strongly the heat and vibration of this casual touch would affect Xander.  “Spike, haven’t you trained him to answer a simple question?  I hadn’t thought you’d be so lax.”

Spike’s expression mirrored his boyfriend’s for an instant—hungry and completely surprised—before it smoothed out again.  “Haven’t given him permission, have you?”

Giles smiled very, very faintly as he unties the knot.  “Well, Xander?”

It takes Xander a moment to answer, working his tongue and licking his lips.  “Anything.”

“He’s very much a submissive, isn’t he?” Giles asked Spike, retying the gag.  He’d heard what he needed in that panted, desperate, yearning word.  “Does he like to be hurt?”

Spikes eyes flashed.  “Try it and find out.”

Warned by Spike’s instant protectiveness, Giles moderated the force of his blow so it sounded worse than it felt.  Xander’s abs contracted, tightening against the slap, and his bound cock jerked.  Giles curled a loose fist around it, slicking his skin with Xander’s precome.  “I dare say he does.  Perhaps I should do more?”

He was careful to always say what he wanted to do before he did it, gaining not just Xander’s approval, but Spike’s.  He watched the vampire closely as he worked—a crop teasing fire-white lines on Xander’s inner thighs and balls; rough, punishing twists of nipples already red and sore from prior play—realizing immediately that it was Spike’s approval that was far more important.  Xander was lost to a wave of pleasure, not caring what was done to him so long that was Giles who did it.  Spike had the opposite concerns, and the tension in his lean frame wasn’t all due to arousal.

“Do you know how Spike persuaded me to come here tonight?” Giles asked.  The crop was a soft suede, dark brown length whipping through the air to snap against Xander’s skin: lightly right above the leather cinch on Xander’s cock, harder as Giles moved it up over belly and chest.  “He taunted me.  Told me you tasted like candy canes and were just as good to suck on.”

Xander and Spike whimpered simultaneously.

“Do you, Xander?  Shall we find out?  Shall I punish you, if you don’t?” 

Removing his glasses, Giles bent down and tasted for himself.  It was more a lick than an actual suck, but both Xander and Spike cried out like Giles had deep-throated him.

Sweat and skin and long lines of precome slid onto his tongue, as sweet as Spike had told him.  Giles groaned and took more of Xander inside his mouth.  He was gripping Xander’s thigh to steady himself, his other hand palming his own erection, harder than it had been in years.  Delicious.  Xander’s moans were just as powerful as Spike had said, as well, and Giles found him taking more just to hear those cries.

Spike was murmuring, quiet words Giles had to focus on to hear.  “Just like that, pet,” Spike said.  “Does he feel good?  Bet he does.  Went to boarding school in England, after all—oh, yes, just like that, pet.  You look so good like that, love. . .”  More endearments and backward compliments towards Giles poured out, heightening Giles’ arousal as well as Xander’s.

The words didn’t stop when Giles sat back up.  More telling was Xander’s moaning and squirming didn’t stop either.  Well satisfied, despite the ache building in his balls, Giles sat down on the bed.  “Yes, I do believe you taste as Spike promised,” he said just a touch loudly.  “And now I’d like to see something I’ve—” always “—wanted to see.  Spike, if you would?”

Directing the naked vampire between Xander’s spread thighs, Giles opened the fly of his pants for the first time.  Xander’s head must have ached, switching between the two of them so often, so Giles made it simpler.

“Spike.  Please fuck him.”

“But—”  Spike’s hips rolled at the command, the head of his cock nudging inside with the instinct and familiarity of a homing pigeon.  “You’re supposed to—”

“Be in charge?  Be obeyed?”  Giles held Spike’s gaze for a long moment, not backing down until he received a slow nod of acquiescence.  “I believe I told you what I wanted.  Fuck him.”

Spike was balls deep before Giles finished his command.  His head fell back, mouth open in a silent exhalation that Giles recognized as a man truly in love with his partner.  That, more than Xander’s resulting groan, sent his hand between his legs, lightly tugging his cock.  Spike was a pleasure to watch, body silver in the light.  Each muscle moved with the liquid grace of a tumbler, his pants as rhythmic as the thrust of his hips.  He was focused almost entirely on Xander, ensuring that each deep stroke was exactly the way Xander preferred it—but he was aware of Giles’ stare.  In fact. . . .

“Are you showing off?” Giles asked, sounding a bit breathless as well.

“Might be,” Spike answered.  “Just a bit.”

Xander made a muffled grunt that sounded less like passion and more like garbled words.  Both Spike and Giles turn as one, glaring until he squeaked and went very quiet.  “Better,” they pronounced, tone so eerily similar that Xander’s eyes went wide and his cock turned an darker shade of red.

Spike didn’t need Giles’ commands anymore.  He leaned forward onto one hand, the other tugging at various restraints until all but the collar around Xander’s neck and cock were off, thrusting inside him at punishing speed all the while.  Giles gripped the bed with his free hand, riding it the way one rode the wild sea, jacking himself in time with each of Spike’s strokes.  They were so beautiful together.  Spike was speaking again, but Giles didn’t bother to try and understand him.  He could see the way their bodies moved together, rhythms caught and matched with such perfection that he felt privileged just to see this moment.

Then, suddenly, Spike removed the cock ring from Xander and glared at Giles, barking, “Come!”

Xander came first, hand flailing out to clutch Giles’ wrist in a punishing grip.  Spike followed, jerking in release—and that pushed Giles over.  White flickered before him, ears ringing with Spike’s and Xander’s cries as he came with almost painful force.

Large, warm hands helped him to sit up against the headboard, giving him a chance to catch his breath again.  A wet cloth was procured to clean them up, Giles able to at least button his own pants afterwards.  He felt very good, at that moment.  He was fairly sure he hadn’t lost an important brain cells, despite how it felt, and also that he hadn’t done anything to Spike and Xander’s relationship—a fact borne out by their enthusiastic necking in front of him.


Spike grinned unrepentantly while Xander blushed and realized he was still naked and scrambled for some clothing.  Watching his lover, Spike said, “Thank you.”

Giles nodded slightly, aware that Spike didn’t want Xander to know just how much Spike had worried.  Needlessly, the way Xander hummed as he dressed, tossing Spike warm glances every so often.  If anything, Giles was starting to feel a little neglected by Xander’s disregard.

But then warm lips pressed against his own.  “Thank you,” Xander said.  His eyes danced merrily, the crooked grin a clear message that he’d known about Spike’s concerns from the start.  And had trusted Giles to not want more than he should.  “Think you’ll be okay at the party tomorrow.”

Giles looked affronted.  “I assure you, I am not that old!”

Xander laughed outright.  “Oh, yeah.  You’ll be fine.”