Rating: NC-17
Pairing:Angel/Spike/Giles
Spoilers:One from Season Two, but otherwise the story is completely AU.
Disclaimer:Characters are property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy, Inc. Grrr. Argh.
Summary:What dreams might a watcher have?
Archive:I would be most flattered if you'd like to, but please let me know before.
Dedication:For Tracy.
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The fire must have been made in haste because the wood was wet and it made the room hazy with smoke. He felt his hand trembling on the trigger handle of the cross-bow as he stood over the bed . . . just looking at them. A tangle of pale limbs, they were, sleeping the drug-like sleep of the soulless in the impending dawn. Both naked under the heavy red velvet quilt Angel kept on his above-ground bed. Naked, tangled and sleeping. So easy to kill.
But he wasn't killing them, was he? He was just standing there- pointing the weapon at their bare flesh and trembling because he simply could not do it. He wasn't afraid to kill them. Not afraid at all. The trouble was, for some niggling, horribly elusive reason, he did not WANT to. What he wanted was . . .
Giles could feel the cold air whooshing into the flat from the door he'd left open behind him when he'd entered. The breeze would wake them soon. Cold air on their incredibly sensitive undead skin. He would have to face them both-together. The two most evil and brutal vampires he had ever encountered. One who was his slayer's beloved and one who was that vampire's second-generation offspring.
Just as he'd known, Angel stirred from the cold breeze and lifted his head. Giles expected him to lunge up and seize the weapon, sink his teeth into the watcher's vulnerable neck and end it all in two seconds flat-but that's not what occurred. Angel merely looked at him for a moment, blinking in the smoky room. Perhaps he wasn't sure what he was seeing. Or perhaps he thought he was dreaming.
"Spike?" Angel said, nudging his bed-partner softly. "We have a guest."
Giles and his cross-bow stood still where they were.
Spike groaned like a little boy being forced to wake for school in the morning, then he opened his cold blue eyes and fixed them on the watcher. "Well, well. Look at this. The librarian and his archaic weapon du jour." The inevitable sarcasm began to ooze from his tone. "Angel, why is it that we're not dust yet? Do you think this tweedy little man is-"
And then it was Spike who lunged. He came forward in an instant and grabbed away the cross-bow, tossing it aside to skitter toward the fireplace. Still naked, he hovered in front of Giles for a moment, but he did not reach for him. Spike merely challenged him with his body-language-shoulders drawn back, chin forward, eyes fixed and sparkling aggressively. He kept advancing until their chests touched.
The vampire had no breath, but Giles could smell something on him . . . something . . . primal and earthy. Something sweet.
"What now, watcher?" Spike growled. "Looks like you've come here on your own and I just took your little toy away. Aren't you even going to hit me?"
Giles said nothing, but kept his senses tuned. He knew Angel was moving around behind Spike, doing something . . . something Giles could not see. In front of him, those crystal blue eyes danced, seeming to twirl like windmills at their center. That smell on him was intoxicating. Distractedly, Giles wished he could pinpoint it . . . sweet and spicy, musky and damp. Delicious.
And then Angel was behind him, pressing his own naked body into the curves of Giles' back. His powerful arms came around and hooked almost casually over Spike's neck, completely capturing Giles between them. Strangely, their nakedness gave them even more menacing power. He could feel their taut muscles, their thighs, their hard chests and abdominals. Their hipbones. He could also feel both their cocks. And then . . . he felt his own, stirring in response to their imposing proximity.
Giles swallowed and his throat clicked.
"I think the watcher came to visit us because he's bored," Angel said, his voice lilting softly with the slightest hint of his former brogue.
Spike pressed impossibly closer, his eyes glowing like boiling sapphires. "Are you bored, watcher? Come to play with the naughty boys at the end of the block?" He snickered horribly. "Oh, yeah . . . we've got good games for everyone here."
Angel's body moved slightly as he joined his mate in a laugh. "Well, if the watcher wants to play, we should teach him the house rules, right?"
Blue eyes flitting up for an instant, Spike grinned at Angel impishly. "Of course. How rude of me to forget." He reached up with his fingers and softly . . . so softly stroked the fine hairs on Angel's outstretched arms. He teased the tender flesh inside the elbows and ran his nails up the large veins leading to the wrists. Giles felt the younger vampire's cock twitch and swell against his body and then Spike licked his lips. "Daddy, can I have just a little taste?" He focused on Giles' throat and took in a deep breath- smelling the watcher like freshly roasted meat. "Watchers are so tasty . . . their blood just reeks of repressed lust."
"Just a little bit, boy," Angel said softly. "Rupert came here for a reason and we don't want to spoil the party for him."
Spike moaned deep in his throat and his eyes glazed over with hunger. He licked his lips repeatedly, salivating, then pressed forward, nudging Giles' chin up with his nose until the big, throbbing jugular was exposed.
Giles knew he should be struggling with all his might to escape, but he simply . . . did not. Some long-quiet part of him was aching for Spike to bite him. And bite, the young vampire did. In one sharp, concise puncture, those vicious fangs sunk into Giles' tender neck and those cold, wet lips covered the wound-sealing it for sucking. He felt his blood begin to pump and he felt Spike begin to swallow . . . heard it right below his ear. Spike's little purring moans of pleasure rose up and seemed to consume his senses. Blond curls tickled his face and Giles felt himself begin to swoon.
Just as his body started to hum with sensation, Angel's voice broke the trance.
"Stop now," he instructed. "You're always so greedy with these save- the-world types."
Again, both vampires chuckled coldly and Giles' body moved with the soft vibration of it. They were playing with him like a big doll and he was doing nothing to stop it. In very real fact, he had no wish to stop it.
Using his fingers that time, Spike lifted Giles' chin again-lifted it until his head rested back against Angel's broad shoulder. "Have a lick," the lithe blond one said. "It's quite nice. Doesn't taste like tweed at all."
Giles' could feel Angel grinning as he lowered his head and lapped at the ragged holes Spike had made. He shivered when he felt Angel's tongue stroked the torn flesh, then dig slightly into the cuts to gather the blood there-down where it was still warm. He moaned, meaning it to be a supplicating, pleading sound, but what he heard in his own head-and what he knew they had also heard-was a moan of desperate desire.
And then Spike was kissing him-full on the mouth, with his tongue stroking gently inside . . . by God . . . he was excellent at it. Giles felt himself drawn back against Angel's hard body as the brunette continued his soft feast. He wasn't really sucking, just licking the bleeding wounds . . . teasing them with his wet tongue. And Spike kissed him deeper, more forcefully, moving against his body with the rhythm of Giles' breath. Up and down . . . up and down . . . the kissing became more frantic, more heated. Angel began to move with them from behind and then Giles heard himself sighing with pleasure.
He was so hard he was shaking from it, and his body cried out for contact with the flesh of these two brutal killers. So much danger . . . so much risk. He rubbed against Spike-pressed their erections together through the fabric of his own trousers-feeling the curves and hard contours of the vampire's thick, straining cock.
Giles wanted to touch it . . . wanted to hold it in his hand and rub it . . . he wanted to feel it pulsing with false life when Spike's seed erupted from the wet tip. His mind was flooded with images of his own cock disappearing into the cool, suckling recesses of Angel's mouth. That tongue . . . those lips . . . lapping the wound on his neck, kissing the skin below with what might have been affection . . . admiration . . . or simple, uncluttered instinct. Angel's cock pressing against his backside, rubbing in time with his movements, in time with Spike's. They had become a tide of carnality.
And suddenly, the kissing stopped and Spike was holding something in front of his face . . . something . . . at a strange angle . . . was it . . ?
Angel's wrist.
"Go on, Rupey," Spike purred. "You know you want it. Here, I'll get you started." He opened his perfect mouth over the thin skin below Angel's palm and Giles watched in rapt fascination as those dagger- fangs drove in-just like tiny knives into soft brie. The dark, thick, powerful vampire blood ran instantly, dripping down the pale flesh in a mesmerizing line.
"It's just like I told you, Rupert," Angel murmured against his ear. "It will make you fly. Drink up, baby. You know it's what you came for."
Hips still working against Spike's body, Giles made no attempt to resist. He knew there was no chance of him being turned in this manner-the vampires had not drained him first. All he would gain from drinking Angel's aged blood was a sensory experience unmatched by anything possible in human life. He'd read about it in the diaries . . . read about it many times. This offering was painfully alluring to weary watchers. And Angel himself had told him about the pleasures of drinking from an old one . . . Angel himself had planted this dreadful seed in Giles' all too wild imagination.
Spike held his grand-sire's wrist in his long, pale fingers and drew the bleeding wounds down to Giles' mouth. He didn't suck-didn't want to-he just wanted to taste it . . . to have it on his tongue and let very few drops of it course through him like lightening. Just a little . . . just enough to cross the line and see all the colors he knew were there to be seen.
Several big drops touched his tongue and Giles drew them into his mouth-swallowed them. It tasted like pennies that had been soaking in wine with fresh cherries and then-
--Giles felt his heart thumping way too quickly as the elixir hit his system. It felt like the spiraling rush of LSD and then it was like the all-encompassing, orgasmic vibration of heroin. All at once, too much at once, he heard himself hollering and then he felt his lips being kissed again . . . such lovely kisses . . . the best kisses he'd ever had . . . and his body shook with wave after wave of orgasm and he cried out again and again, wishing that if it had to stop, it would kill him when it did. After knowing pleasure like this-there would be nothing left to live for.
"That's it, baby," Spike growled against his ear. "Roll around in it. This way you'll know . . . every time you take one of us out, you'll know what's being lost."
He felt Angel's grip tighten on his wrists and then, for the first time, Giles was terrified. He knew they would kill him if he didn't escape. He struggled and writhed then got himself free enough to turn and face Angel-and then he froze.
There, near the fireplace, Angel stood with his back to the blaze- holding Jenny Calendar's severed head by its hair in his right hand and in his left he held a still-beating heart. Giles did not need to be told to whom it belonged. Angel's icy grin said all that needed saying. When he lifted the pulsating organ to his mouth and bit into it, Giles started to scream and then-
He was sitting bolt-upright in his own bed, gasping for air, running with sweat, checking his throat for wounds he knew he would not find and feeling more grateful than he ever had for the bright morning sunlight.
(end)