![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
snoggedTitle: Feeling Lonely?
Author: snogged
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Co. own the characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I don’t.
Pairing: Spike/Giles
Word Count: 3023
Rating: FRAO/NC-17
Setting: Set during Season 6.
Summary: Giles goes on a cruise…
Beta: whichclothes. Any other mistakes are mine.
A/N: written for the nekid_spike nekid numbers Summer challenge. My prompts were: Giles / Sun lounger / Cruise / Tattoos
“Bill. Bill. Junk. Bill. Junk. Bill,” Anya mumbled, leaning against the main counter in the Magic Box as she lazily leafed through the day’s mail. Although he could hear every word, Giles did his best to ignore her by focusing his attention on alphabetizing a recent shipment of Kyoto incense. He knew if he didn’t old Rosalie Simmons would have his head. As much as he appreciated a good organizational structure, Rosalie gave new meaning to the term obsessive-compulsive.
“Ooh! New copy of Vogue,” Anya chirped, her tone brightening as she tossed the remainder of the letters towards the cash register and hurried over to the research table where she flipped open the magazine without a moment’s hesitation.
“Anya…” Giles started, annoyance creeping into his voice. It would be nice if she could finish at least one project before distraction set in.
She didn’t even bother to look up from her reading as she said: “As an employee in the state of California, I’m entitled to a fifteen minute break for every four hours worked. It’s the American way, Giles.”
Heaving a sigh, Giles nodded, realizing it would be better not to fight with her as he walked over to the discarded pile of envelopes. As he picked them up, a brightly colored flyer with large block lettering escaped from the stack. The first thing to draw his attention was an attractive blond-haired, blue-eyed man smiling up at him. He was wearing a shell necklace, no shirt, and a pair of blue and white-striped Bermuda shorts. In his hands was a large lime margarita with salt on the rim.
Giles unconsciously licked his lips, letting his eyes travel down the smooth expanse of pixilated golden-bronze muscles. It was a well hidden secret that Giles had been with men before, although after their last run-in with Ethan, he had wondered if anyone had picked up on the sexual tension burning between them. He couldn’t deny that there was something equally striking about this model, something that triggered his physiological arousal and sexual urges.
In fact, as he continued to gaze at the picture, he couldn’t help but think that the man looked a bit like…
Spike.
Giles shook his head, attempting to chase that very thought from his mind. It didn’t matter if Spike had a chip in his head or not. Entertaining sordid sexual fantasies about the vampire never worked out well. Especially after the short time Spike had spent chained to his bathtub…
He took off his glasses and furiously rubbed the lenses for a few moments before putting them back on to read the large, bold text.
‘FEELING LONELY?’ it asked. ‘Come along with us as we sail the high seas. This exclusive offer is available for male singles only.’
In smaller type were various events and activities emphasized with bright red bullet points. It boasted such opportunities as deep sea diving, snorkeling, salsa dancing, karaoke, fine dining, cocktail parties, shopping, and whale watching.
Logic suggested that this cruise was a bad idea. For starters, he had responsibilities here. Buffy was still re-acclimating herself to the living world, Willow was struggling with her magic dependence, and Anya was not really ready for the responsibility of appeasing the Sunnydale citizens who frequented the shop. Furthermore, there was a chance this whole thing was a scam by some greedy fool looking to clean out the bank accounts of desperate men who clung to the notion that love and sex were the ingredients missing from their lives. Logic dictated, then, that he should just toss the flyer into the trash like the rubbish it was and go on with his life.
But he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t let go of the fantasy of white sand beaches and tropical drinks. He couldn’t justify forgoing five days in paradise surrounded by beautiful men just because he was scared to take a few risks. He had every right to get away from Sunnydale, had every right to make Buffy, Willow, and Anya become accountable for their own actions. They were well on their way into adulthood so there was no reason they couldn’t survive a week without his guidance. It was time to trim the apron strings. With that in mind, he excused himself to the back room and picked up the phone they had installed back there. Taking a large breath, he dialed the number listed on the flyer and hoped he was making the right decision.
***
The weeks passed and boarding day finally arrived. Giles was grateful that Xander, Buffy, and Willow had offered to drive him down to the loading dock, though he wasn’t keen on the not-so-subtle looks of disappointment on their faces as they were making him feel like he’d kicked their puppy.
“I’ll only be gone a week,” Giles reminded them, as Xander pulled into the lot and they all climbed out of the car.
“We’ll be fine,” Buffy replied, despite the contradictory non-verbals he could still read in the tenseness of her face, neck, and shoulders. “Just don’t get swallowed by a water demon or something because that would massively suck.”
Concern filtered through Willow’s expression as she chewed her bottom lip. “This isn’t some sort of evil cruise line, is it?”
“There was no mention of it in the brochure, I assure you,” Giles said calmly, as Xander popped the trunk and pulled a black suitcase from its depths. But as Xander passed the suitcase over to him, Giles felt a brief moment of hesitation pass through him. Despite years of being a Watcher, of living on the hellmouth, the thought that this cruise could be demonic hadn’t even occurred to him. He had merely placed all his hope in the notion that not everything in his life needed to have a supernatural vibe to it. He had merely wanted to believe that this trip was a reward and not a death sentence.
“Well, at least you won’t have vamps to worry about,” Xander said, directing his gaze towards the side of the ocean liner where Fun in the Sun was printed in big blue letters.
“Yes,” Giles replied, inhaling sharply. The smells of the ocean assaulted his nostrils and a smile crinkled the corners of his mouth. There was no chance he’d choose to regret taking this opportunity: demons or no demons.
“But just in case…” Buffy said, pushing something small into his hand. It was a stake, slightly curved and smooth to the touch, and he was grateful to have her share it with him.
A horn sounded, loud and obnoxious, interrupting their conversation. All around them, other passengers started moving towards the boarding ramp and Giles realized it was time for him to do the same.
“Have a nice trip!” Willow chirped, plastering a 100-watt smile on her face as Giles took hold of his suitcase handle and waved them goodbye.
***
The room Giles had been assigned was small and cramped with no windows. As he struggled to maneuver his way inside, he was suddenly grateful that he was not required to share the space with anyone else. Once he got the luggage onto the mattress, he unzipped the bag and pulled out a pair of navy blue swimming trunks. Cautious of the proximity between his elbows and the wall, he wiggled his way out of his shorts and into the swimwear. Once dressed to satisfaction, he extricated himself from the room and headed back up to the main deck.
Now that they were further away from land, the smell of salt, fish, and tanning oil was even stronger. Instead of finding it offensive, Giles found it comforting and wished he could carry the scent around in a bottle with him for the rest of his life.
Wandering down the length of the ship, Giles observed the other men. Some were single. Some were coupled. Most were smiling, but not in a creepy, demonic way. Overall, the mood felt normal and the only red flag was that it all felt too good to be true. He passed by the mini-bar, the dance hall, the spa, and all were filled with eager-looking men. He didn’t feel their eagerness, however. He just wanted to lie down and relax. It didn’t take long before he found a sun lounger near the swimming pool. It was one of the ones with the mesh fabric, instead of the weird white plastic that left funny indentations in his skin. Settling down, he closed his eyes and let the sun’s rays soak into his skin as the tension seeped from his muscles. It didn’t take long for sleep to overtake him.
He only woke up twice. Once to answer nature’s call and once to nibble on a plate of pineapple and papaya that had been placed beside him by a server who had chosen not bother him. The fruit was sweet and thick with juices. He couldn’t recall tasting anything more delectable. When he finished, his eyelids fluttered closed, sending him tumbling back into a blissful sleep.
“Oi! Wake up, Sleeping Beauty.”
Giles grunted, but didn’t stir. As long as he kept his eyes shut, whatever it was would go away.
“I bloody said wake up, Watcher.”
Two hands grabbed his shoulders and proceeded to shake him awake. Giles blinked a few times, adjusting to the sudden darkness and registering the facial expression of the man who chose to disturb him. The piercing blue eyes and slicked-back blond hair were unmistakable. “Spike? What are you doing here?”
Spike smirked, releasing his grip on Giles’ shoulders as he returned to full height. “Followed a Grac’nar demon on board last night after having a bit of a tussle with him. But I lost the slimy bugger once the sun started to rise. Been hiding in the cargo hold all day waiting for my chance to show him what’s what.”
Giles shifted in the lounger and reached over to the small table beside him, his fingers groping for his glasses. Once he’d found them, he put them on, which allowed him to notice the strange black design that seemed to be curling away from the collar of Spike’s shirt and disappearing somewhere behind his ear. “Of course…”
Spike followed the other man’s eyes and smirked, deftly removing his shirt so that Giles could see the entirety of the design as well as the strong expanse of his muscled chest.
Breath hitching in his throat, Giles felt the compulsion to reach out and touch the tattoo, to trace the lines and curls of it, to see what reaction he could draw from Spike’s lips from stroking him in such a fashion. He had felt quite similar about the man in the postcard. He’d wanted to touch, to taste, to fuck. And seeing Spike stirred all of that up again. Instead, he resisted, allowing curiosity to take priority over primal urges, and asked: “When did you get that?”
“It’s a fake,” Spike replied, shrugging his shoulders and making the design move and bend with the shifting of his skin. Giles couldn’t help but find the movement sexy. It reminded him of a panther rolling its neck muscles as it prepared for the hunt. “Clem did it, actually. Demon’s bloody brilliant with a permanent marker, if you’re patient enough to let him do his thing. They say it’s supposed to lure in the Grac’nar, but so far, the only ones who’ve noticed are the blokes getting wasted on martinis over at the mini bar.”
Giles considered interjecting that he had noticed as well, but he didn’t want to give Spike the wrong idea. God only knew where that would lead…
He opted not to say a word as he watched Spike’s fingers reach up to touch the markings, mimicking the movements that Giles had wanted to try. The suggestive leer in Spike’s eyes made Giles shiver and his cock stirred slightly, not enough to harden, but enough to suggest sexual interest.
“Perhaps we should…” Giles started. This was Spike for goodness sakes and he was damn near thinking about hopping into bed with him without a second thought. Clearly, this cruise having quite the effect on him…
“Go somewhere more comfortable?” Spike said, as his hands moved down his sides and his thumbs slid into the loops of his black pants. He cocked his hips forward and Giles noticed a slight bulge had started to push against the fabric.
It should have come as no surprise that Spike would be so quick to pick up on the desire coming from Giles’s current body language and pheromones. He was a vampire after all, and preternatural sense of smell was part of the package. The fact that he was reciprocating Giles’s interest was far more fascinating considering how lustfully obsessed the blond had become with the Slayer. It did make sense though, considering that vampire lore was ripe with sex and aggression and the tension between Spike and Angel had always felt like it was fueled by something greater than hatred.
Taking in a sharp breath, Giles reached forward, choosing to answer Spike’s suggestion of finding somewhere more private with by doing something far more daring and risky. He popped open the button the blond’s fly and tugged down the zipper. The angle they were currently at, with Spike standing up and him sitting down, permitted Giles to lean forward and he pressed his lips against the still cool fabric of Spike’s boxers, the one reminder that Spike wasn’t human.
Spike licked his lips, curling his fingers into Giles’s hair as Giles’s exhaled, blowing puffs of hot air onto Spike’s crotch. “Mmm…Like your style, Watcher. Feels like this will suit me just fine.”
Despite knowing that the Grac’nar was still on the loose, Giles didn’t let his concentration slip. He had one thing and one thing only pressing on the forefront of his mind.
Giles pulled back slightly, slipping his hands into the waistband of Spike’s boxers and pulling Spike’s cock out of the confines. Fully erect, it felt hard and heavy in his hands, but it wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling given what he’d gotten up to with Ethan during his adolescence. He would have preferred to view more of Spike’s naked skin and feel the flesh shift and fold under his fingers. But he understood that subtlety would be key for this exhibitionist endeavor.
His tongue darted forwards, licking Spike’s swollen, bobbing cock-head, teasing it with staccato strokes, hitting the top, the sides, and the bottom. Spike moaned and tightened his grip on Giles’s head. Giles quickly looked up at Spike under hooded eyes and smiled, pleased to see that the power was more in his hands. This was his moment to control. This was his moment to do whatever he wanted to do in order to make Spike scream and pant with lust.
Without a second thought, his head jerked forward and the length of Spike’s cock, about seven inches or so, slid over his tongue and down his throat. His nose wiggled, adjusting to the tickling sensation of the soft path of hair decorating Spike’s pubis and the forced need to breathe in Spike’s musky aroma in order to keep up his oxygen supply. His hands slid down the length of Spike’s thighs, pausing to feel the muscles and tendons clench and pulse with need before they moved towards Spike’s balls. He started off caressing them gently, but when an accidental tug caused a pleasure/pain-fueled hiss, Giles realized that Spike didn’t mind it rough. With that in mind, he squeezed the sac which made Spike’s cock twitch and jump inside his mouth.
After a few minutes of his hands and lips working in unison, Giles felt Spike’s balls draw upwards and above him, he could hear unnecessary shallow breaths and grunts that were indicative of climax. It came as no surprise, then, when bursts of spunk hit the back of Giles’s throat and he swallowed quickly, enjoying the thick, milky sensation sliding down his esophagus. It didn’t matter to him one way or another that it belonged to Spike or that the act had been engaged on a cruise liner 100 yards off the coast of California.
What did matter to him was the sudden sense that they weren’t alone as a low snarl echoed in his ears.
“Shit,” Spike murmured, tucking himself back into his pants and zipping them back up. “Grac’nar.”
Giles scrambled off the lounger and positioned himself behind Spike, poised to fight if it became necessary. Besides a few protrusions and a skin texture that resembled scrambled eggs, the Grac’nar didn’t look too intimidating. In fact, he was even dressed in plainclothes and could potentially pass as an ugly man with a skin condition. But over the years, Giles had learned that assuming harmlessness never ended well.
Spike, on the other hand, wasn’t thinking about whether or not the Grac’nar was coming in peace. In fact, he didn’t even bother assuming a fight stance. He just lunged, tackling the demon the ground and pinning the demon’s arms to its sides.
Spike pursed his lips and brought his fist back before plunging it down into the demon’s nose. The sharp contact made squishing noises that reminded Giles of wet mud and Spike’s look of revulsion suggested that it felt like something far worse. The Grac’nar sputtered in shock and surprise and kicked its legs in an effort to off-balance Spike.
Not to be outdone, Spike punched him again, this time spattering the deck with a yellowish ooze. The demon grunted and his body stilled, offering a quick surrender to a fight that had barely started. But Spike wasn’t finished. Instead, he rained down more punches, his knuckles cutting through skin and bone and muscle until the Grac’nar was nothing more than a pound of goop.
Satisfied, Spike rose to his feet and flashed Giles a wide grin.
“How’s that soddin’ comfy place sounding now, mate?”
“Like a dream vacation,” Giles replied, smiling back, already contemplating tomorrow’s activities. He’d always wanted to see if what they said about sex on the beach was true…
Author: snogged
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Co. own the characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I don’t.
Pairing: Spike/Giles
Word Count: 3023
Rating: FRAO/NC-17
Setting: Set during Season 6.
Summary: Giles goes on a cruise…
Beta: whichclothes. Any other mistakes are mine.
A/N: written for the nekid_spike nekid numbers Summer challenge. My prompts were: Giles / Sun lounger / Cruise / Tattoos
“Bill. Bill. Junk. Bill. Junk. Bill,” Anya mumbled, leaning against the main counter in the Magic Box as she lazily leafed through the day’s mail. Although he could hear every word, Giles did his best to ignore her by focusing his attention on alphabetizing a recent shipment of Kyoto incense. He knew if he didn’t old Rosalie Simmons would have his head. As much as he appreciated a good organizational structure, Rosalie gave new meaning to the term obsessive-compulsive.
“Ooh! New copy of Vogue,” Anya chirped, her tone brightening as she tossed the remainder of the letters towards the cash register and hurried over to the research table where she flipped open the magazine without a moment’s hesitation.
“Anya…” Giles started, annoyance creeping into his voice. It would be nice if she could finish at least one project before distraction set in.
She didn’t even bother to look up from her reading as she said: “As an employee in the state of California, I’m entitled to a fifteen minute break for every four hours worked. It’s the American way, Giles.”
Heaving a sigh, Giles nodded, realizing it would be better not to fight with her as he walked over to the discarded pile of envelopes. As he picked them up, a brightly colored flyer with large block lettering escaped from the stack. The first thing to draw his attention was an attractive blond-haired, blue-eyed man smiling up at him. He was wearing a shell necklace, no shirt, and a pair of blue and white-striped Bermuda shorts. In his hands was a large lime margarita with salt on the rim.
Giles unconsciously licked his lips, letting his eyes travel down the smooth expanse of pixilated golden-bronze muscles. It was a well hidden secret that Giles had been with men before, although after their last run-in with Ethan, he had wondered if anyone had picked up on the sexual tension burning between them. He couldn’t deny that there was something equally striking about this model, something that triggered his physiological arousal and sexual urges.
In fact, as he continued to gaze at the picture, he couldn’t help but think that the man looked a bit like…
Spike.
Giles shook his head, attempting to chase that very thought from his mind. It didn’t matter if Spike had a chip in his head or not. Entertaining sordid sexual fantasies about the vampire never worked out well. Especially after the short time Spike had spent chained to his bathtub…
He took off his glasses and furiously rubbed the lenses for a few moments before putting them back on to read the large, bold text.
‘FEELING LONELY?’ it asked. ‘Come along with us as we sail the high seas. This exclusive offer is available for male singles only.’
In smaller type were various events and activities emphasized with bright red bullet points. It boasted such opportunities as deep sea diving, snorkeling, salsa dancing, karaoke, fine dining, cocktail parties, shopping, and whale watching.
Logic suggested that this cruise was a bad idea. For starters, he had responsibilities here. Buffy was still re-acclimating herself to the living world, Willow was struggling with her magic dependence, and Anya was not really ready for the responsibility of appeasing the Sunnydale citizens who frequented the shop. Furthermore, there was a chance this whole thing was a scam by some greedy fool looking to clean out the bank accounts of desperate men who clung to the notion that love and sex were the ingredients missing from their lives. Logic dictated, then, that he should just toss the flyer into the trash like the rubbish it was and go on with his life.
But he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t let go of the fantasy of white sand beaches and tropical drinks. He couldn’t justify forgoing five days in paradise surrounded by beautiful men just because he was scared to take a few risks. He had every right to get away from Sunnydale, had every right to make Buffy, Willow, and Anya become accountable for their own actions. They were well on their way into adulthood so there was no reason they couldn’t survive a week without his guidance. It was time to trim the apron strings. With that in mind, he excused himself to the back room and picked up the phone they had installed back there. Taking a large breath, he dialed the number listed on the flyer and hoped he was making the right decision.
***
The weeks passed and boarding day finally arrived. Giles was grateful that Xander, Buffy, and Willow had offered to drive him down to the loading dock, though he wasn’t keen on the not-so-subtle looks of disappointment on their faces as they were making him feel like he’d kicked their puppy.
“I’ll only be gone a week,” Giles reminded them, as Xander pulled into the lot and they all climbed out of the car.
“We’ll be fine,” Buffy replied, despite the contradictory non-verbals he could still read in the tenseness of her face, neck, and shoulders. “Just don’t get swallowed by a water demon or something because that would massively suck.”
Concern filtered through Willow’s expression as she chewed her bottom lip. “This isn’t some sort of evil cruise line, is it?”
“There was no mention of it in the brochure, I assure you,” Giles said calmly, as Xander popped the trunk and pulled a black suitcase from its depths. But as Xander passed the suitcase over to him, Giles felt a brief moment of hesitation pass through him. Despite years of being a Watcher, of living on the hellmouth, the thought that this cruise could be demonic hadn’t even occurred to him. He had merely placed all his hope in the notion that not everything in his life needed to have a supernatural vibe to it. He had merely wanted to believe that this trip was a reward and not a death sentence.
“Well, at least you won’t have vamps to worry about,” Xander said, directing his gaze towards the side of the ocean liner where Fun in the Sun was printed in big blue letters.
“Yes,” Giles replied, inhaling sharply. The smells of the ocean assaulted his nostrils and a smile crinkled the corners of his mouth. There was no chance he’d choose to regret taking this opportunity: demons or no demons.
“But just in case…” Buffy said, pushing something small into his hand. It was a stake, slightly curved and smooth to the touch, and he was grateful to have her share it with him.
A horn sounded, loud and obnoxious, interrupting their conversation. All around them, other passengers started moving towards the boarding ramp and Giles realized it was time for him to do the same.
“Have a nice trip!” Willow chirped, plastering a 100-watt smile on her face as Giles took hold of his suitcase handle and waved them goodbye.
***
The room Giles had been assigned was small and cramped with no windows. As he struggled to maneuver his way inside, he was suddenly grateful that he was not required to share the space with anyone else. Once he got the luggage onto the mattress, he unzipped the bag and pulled out a pair of navy blue swimming trunks. Cautious of the proximity between his elbows and the wall, he wiggled his way out of his shorts and into the swimwear. Once dressed to satisfaction, he extricated himself from the room and headed back up to the main deck.
Now that they were further away from land, the smell of salt, fish, and tanning oil was even stronger. Instead of finding it offensive, Giles found it comforting and wished he could carry the scent around in a bottle with him for the rest of his life.
Wandering down the length of the ship, Giles observed the other men. Some were single. Some were coupled. Most were smiling, but not in a creepy, demonic way. Overall, the mood felt normal and the only red flag was that it all felt too good to be true. He passed by the mini-bar, the dance hall, the spa, and all were filled with eager-looking men. He didn’t feel their eagerness, however. He just wanted to lie down and relax. It didn’t take long before he found a sun lounger near the swimming pool. It was one of the ones with the mesh fabric, instead of the weird white plastic that left funny indentations in his skin. Settling down, he closed his eyes and let the sun’s rays soak into his skin as the tension seeped from his muscles. It didn’t take long for sleep to overtake him.
He only woke up twice. Once to answer nature’s call and once to nibble on a plate of pineapple and papaya that had been placed beside him by a server who had chosen not bother him. The fruit was sweet and thick with juices. He couldn’t recall tasting anything more delectable. When he finished, his eyelids fluttered closed, sending him tumbling back into a blissful sleep.
“Oi! Wake up, Sleeping Beauty.”
Giles grunted, but didn’t stir. As long as he kept his eyes shut, whatever it was would go away.
“I bloody said wake up, Watcher.”
Two hands grabbed his shoulders and proceeded to shake him awake. Giles blinked a few times, adjusting to the sudden darkness and registering the facial expression of the man who chose to disturb him. The piercing blue eyes and slicked-back blond hair were unmistakable. “Spike? What are you doing here?”
Spike smirked, releasing his grip on Giles’ shoulders as he returned to full height. “Followed a Grac’nar demon on board last night after having a bit of a tussle with him. But I lost the slimy bugger once the sun started to rise. Been hiding in the cargo hold all day waiting for my chance to show him what’s what.”
Giles shifted in the lounger and reached over to the small table beside him, his fingers groping for his glasses. Once he’d found them, he put them on, which allowed him to notice the strange black design that seemed to be curling away from the collar of Spike’s shirt and disappearing somewhere behind his ear. “Of course…”
Spike followed the other man’s eyes and smirked, deftly removing his shirt so that Giles could see the entirety of the design as well as the strong expanse of his muscled chest.
Breath hitching in his throat, Giles felt the compulsion to reach out and touch the tattoo, to trace the lines and curls of it, to see what reaction he could draw from Spike’s lips from stroking him in such a fashion. He had felt quite similar about the man in the postcard. He’d wanted to touch, to taste, to fuck. And seeing Spike stirred all of that up again. Instead, he resisted, allowing curiosity to take priority over primal urges, and asked: “When did you get that?”
“It’s a fake,” Spike replied, shrugging his shoulders and making the design move and bend with the shifting of his skin. Giles couldn’t help but find the movement sexy. It reminded him of a panther rolling its neck muscles as it prepared for the hunt. “Clem did it, actually. Demon’s bloody brilliant with a permanent marker, if you’re patient enough to let him do his thing. They say it’s supposed to lure in the Grac’nar, but so far, the only ones who’ve noticed are the blokes getting wasted on martinis over at the mini bar.”
Giles considered interjecting that he had noticed as well, but he didn’t want to give Spike the wrong idea. God only knew where that would lead…
He opted not to say a word as he watched Spike’s fingers reach up to touch the markings, mimicking the movements that Giles had wanted to try. The suggestive leer in Spike’s eyes made Giles shiver and his cock stirred slightly, not enough to harden, but enough to suggest sexual interest.
“Perhaps we should…” Giles started. This was Spike for goodness sakes and he was damn near thinking about hopping into bed with him without a second thought. Clearly, this cruise having quite the effect on him…
“Go somewhere more comfortable?” Spike said, as his hands moved down his sides and his thumbs slid into the loops of his black pants. He cocked his hips forward and Giles noticed a slight bulge had started to push against the fabric.
It should have come as no surprise that Spike would be so quick to pick up on the desire coming from Giles’s current body language and pheromones. He was a vampire after all, and preternatural sense of smell was part of the package. The fact that he was reciprocating Giles’s interest was far more fascinating considering how lustfully obsessed the blond had become with the Slayer. It did make sense though, considering that vampire lore was ripe with sex and aggression and the tension between Spike and Angel had always felt like it was fueled by something greater than hatred.
Taking in a sharp breath, Giles reached forward, choosing to answer Spike’s suggestion of finding somewhere more private with by doing something far more daring and risky. He popped open the button the blond’s fly and tugged down the zipper. The angle they were currently at, with Spike standing up and him sitting down, permitted Giles to lean forward and he pressed his lips against the still cool fabric of Spike’s boxers, the one reminder that Spike wasn’t human.
Spike licked his lips, curling his fingers into Giles’s hair as Giles’s exhaled, blowing puffs of hot air onto Spike’s crotch. “Mmm…Like your style, Watcher. Feels like this will suit me just fine.”
Despite knowing that the Grac’nar was still on the loose, Giles didn’t let his concentration slip. He had one thing and one thing only pressing on the forefront of his mind.
Giles pulled back slightly, slipping his hands into the waistband of Spike’s boxers and pulling Spike’s cock out of the confines. Fully erect, it felt hard and heavy in his hands, but it wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling given what he’d gotten up to with Ethan during his adolescence. He would have preferred to view more of Spike’s naked skin and feel the flesh shift and fold under his fingers. But he understood that subtlety would be key for this exhibitionist endeavor.
His tongue darted forwards, licking Spike’s swollen, bobbing cock-head, teasing it with staccato strokes, hitting the top, the sides, and the bottom. Spike moaned and tightened his grip on Giles’s head. Giles quickly looked up at Spike under hooded eyes and smiled, pleased to see that the power was more in his hands. This was his moment to control. This was his moment to do whatever he wanted to do in order to make Spike scream and pant with lust.
Without a second thought, his head jerked forward and the length of Spike’s cock, about seven inches or so, slid over his tongue and down his throat. His nose wiggled, adjusting to the tickling sensation of the soft path of hair decorating Spike’s pubis and the forced need to breathe in Spike’s musky aroma in order to keep up his oxygen supply. His hands slid down the length of Spike’s thighs, pausing to feel the muscles and tendons clench and pulse with need before they moved towards Spike’s balls. He started off caressing them gently, but when an accidental tug caused a pleasure/pain-fueled hiss, Giles realized that Spike didn’t mind it rough. With that in mind, he squeezed the sac which made Spike’s cock twitch and jump inside his mouth.
After a few minutes of his hands and lips working in unison, Giles felt Spike’s balls draw upwards and above him, he could hear unnecessary shallow breaths and grunts that were indicative of climax. It came as no surprise, then, when bursts of spunk hit the back of Giles’s throat and he swallowed quickly, enjoying the thick, milky sensation sliding down his esophagus. It didn’t matter to him one way or another that it belonged to Spike or that the act had been engaged on a cruise liner 100 yards off the coast of California.
What did matter to him was the sudden sense that they weren’t alone as a low snarl echoed in his ears.
“Shit,” Spike murmured, tucking himself back into his pants and zipping them back up. “Grac’nar.”
Giles scrambled off the lounger and positioned himself behind Spike, poised to fight if it became necessary. Besides a few protrusions and a skin texture that resembled scrambled eggs, the Grac’nar didn’t look too intimidating. In fact, he was even dressed in plainclothes and could potentially pass as an ugly man with a skin condition. But over the years, Giles had learned that assuming harmlessness never ended well.
Spike, on the other hand, wasn’t thinking about whether or not the Grac’nar was coming in peace. In fact, he didn’t even bother assuming a fight stance. He just lunged, tackling the demon the ground and pinning the demon’s arms to its sides.
Spike pursed his lips and brought his fist back before plunging it down into the demon’s nose. The sharp contact made squishing noises that reminded Giles of wet mud and Spike’s look of revulsion suggested that it felt like something far worse. The Grac’nar sputtered in shock and surprise and kicked its legs in an effort to off-balance Spike.
Not to be outdone, Spike punched him again, this time spattering the deck with a yellowish ooze. The demon grunted and his body stilled, offering a quick surrender to a fight that had barely started. But Spike wasn’t finished. Instead, he rained down more punches, his knuckles cutting through skin and bone and muscle until the Grac’nar was nothing more than a pound of goop.
Satisfied, Spike rose to his feet and flashed Giles a wide grin.
“How’s that soddin’ comfy place sounding now, mate?”
“Like a dream vacation,” Giles replied, smiling back, already contemplating tomorrow’s activities. He’d always wanted to see if what they said about sex on the beach was true…
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
on 2010-07-27 11:03 pm (UTC)