Rum With A View; Giles/Spike
Jan. 26th, 2007 11:14 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sparklebutchTitle: Rum With A View
Fandom: Buffy
Type: Slash M/M
Note: Cinder on rum said: Corsets, Giles, Spike
It looks like one hell of a party happened here last night. Giles only wishes he could remember any of it. He treads carefully through his living room, surveying the debris.
A half-empty bottle of rum on the table. The half-full part is the only thing that remained of three bottles of said rum, plus assorted other drinks. And two boxes of weetabix. Giles has a vague recollection of small, colourful paper umbrellas.
The telly is still on, and it still is showing that dreadful Passions marathon. It looks exactly like the episode he remembers seeing just before he got too drunk to follow the plot.
Upon closer examination, it turns out it's not a rerun of the same one, but in fact a series or two ahead. Season. They call them seasons in America. Giles continues his tour.
He freezes in place. On the back of his armchair there is a pair of pants. Small, flimsy, hot pink satin ladies' panties, to be precise. Cautious, he walks around the coffee table and lifts the undergarment with a finger, examining it. It looks as though someone tore it with their teeth. Off someone else, no doubt.
He really does wish he could remember.
Searching the house further, he finds a tennis racket on the kitchen table. Just propped there between the salt-and-pepper set, and a towel. He doesn't dare examine the towel.
It all comes crashing back down on him when he enters the bathroom. Naked backside gleaming white welcomes him, bent over the side of the tub. Giles steps closer.
The naked backside - however lovely, and bringing hazy memories of last night and what exactly happened, and how exactly it involved said backside - continues into a long back, tied in a corset and a very complex string structure. The satin hugs the narrowed waistline, the black stark against the pale skin. Next is a long, beautifully arched neck, that ends in messy, bleached blond curls.
"Spike." It's more a sigh than an exclamation.
So that's what happened last night. He and Spike decided to recreate some of their less-than-finer moments from several years back. And throw in some porn flick adaptations for variety, it seems. Giles now remembers what that tennis racket was used for.
"Spike, wake up." He reaches a hand to pat the vampire awake, but then thinks better of it. If he places his hand on this very inviting arse, they might be stuck here for a while longer. "Spike!"
The vampire groans, and then slides out of the tub, landing on his knees. With some twisting and turning, he ends up sitting , legs bent at the knees, and looking up at Giles. That's when Giles notices the handcuffs dangling from Spike's wrist, and the dark, smudged eyeliner around his eyes and down his left cheek. That is, after he manages to tear his eyes away from Spike's cock, soft and pale and nestled in shockingly dark curls, pointing towards the floor and almost begging to be taken in hand and petted, and fondled, and...
Giles clears his throat.
"You know what's great about being a vampire?" Spike asks, blinking and yawning. "Corsets don't give ya breathing problems, not matter how long we wear 'em, or how tight." He stands up and stretches. "That being said, take this thing off me."
Giles moves that one step that takes him close enough to Spike, with full intention of helping out, but somehow ends up with his hands sliding up and down Spike's satin-covered waist, fingertips just barely reaching his exposed hips, but never quite caressing the naked skin. He can't seem to look away from Spike's chest, flat muscles framed with black lace. And then he's got his back against the wall, Spike pressed tight against him, lips and fangs against his mouth, kissing him with vicious ferocity. The no-longer-flaccid cock is rubbing against his trouser leg, already leaving a wet stain.
"Spike. We're not going to do this," Giles says. "Again," he adds. "In here," he amends, when it's becoming clear he's as interested as Spike is, and that Spike isn't letting go. And that he lacks any conviction and authority when he tries to pretend he doesn't want to.
Spike pulls back for a brief moment. "Where then?"
"Uh," is all Giles has time to say before the vampire's mouth is against his own again, and the kiss really is too good to be stopped for trivialities such as where, or when, or - the more important one - why.
"Coffee," Giles says, pushing Spike back. "Coffee, and water. And blood for you." Spike licks the side of his throat, a threat dulled by the fact he's been working with Giles - and occasionally sleeping with him - for years now, and if he hadn't done anything so far, he won't pick this moment to bite.
"No tea and scones?"
The smirk really irritates Giles, and so he wipes it off the vampire's face with a hard kiss of his own, hand on the back of the blond head, steadying and guiding, and then pulling Spike back by the hair.
"I just want to make sure the rum is out of our system before we do this again," he says, grinning.
Fandom: Buffy
Type: Slash M/M
Note: Cinder on rum said: Corsets, Giles, Spike
It looks like one hell of a party happened here last night. Giles only wishes he could remember any of it. He treads carefully through his living room, surveying the debris.
A half-empty bottle of rum on the table. The half-full part is the only thing that remained of three bottles of said rum, plus assorted other drinks. And two boxes of weetabix. Giles has a vague recollection of small, colourful paper umbrellas.
The telly is still on, and it still is showing that dreadful Passions marathon. It looks exactly like the episode he remembers seeing just before he got too drunk to follow the plot.
Upon closer examination, it turns out it's not a rerun of the same one, but in fact a series or two ahead. Season. They call them seasons in America. Giles continues his tour.
He freezes in place. On the back of his armchair there is a pair of pants. Small, flimsy, hot pink satin ladies' panties, to be precise. Cautious, he walks around the coffee table and lifts the undergarment with a finger, examining it. It looks as though someone tore it with their teeth. Off someone else, no doubt.
He really does wish he could remember.
Searching the house further, he finds a tennis racket on the kitchen table. Just propped there between the salt-and-pepper set, and a towel. He doesn't dare examine the towel.
It all comes crashing back down on him when he enters the bathroom. Naked backside gleaming white welcomes him, bent over the side of the tub. Giles steps closer.
The naked backside - however lovely, and bringing hazy memories of last night and what exactly happened, and how exactly it involved said backside - continues into a long back, tied in a corset and a very complex string structure. The satin hugs the narrowed waistline, the black stark against the pale skin. Next is a long, beautifully arched neck, that ends in messy, bleached blond curls.
"Spike." It's more a sigh than an exclamation.
So that's what happened last night. He and Spike decided to recreate some of their less-than-finer moments from several years back. And throw in some porn flick adaptations for variety, it seems. Giles now remembers what that tennis racket was used for.
"Spike, wake up." He reaches a hand to pat the vampire awake, but then thinks better of it. If he places his hand on this very inviting arse, they might be stuck here for a while longer. "Spike!"
The vampire groans, and then slides out of the tub, landing on his knees. With some twisting and turning, he ends up sitting , legs bent at the knees, and looking up at Giles. That's when Giles notices the handcuffs dangling from Spike's wrist, and the dark, smudged eyeliner around his eyes and down his left cheek. That is, after he manages to tear his eyes away from Spike's cock, soft and pale and nestled in shockingly dark curls, pointing towards the floor and almost begging to be taken in hand and petted, and fondled, and...
Giles clears his throat.
"You know what's great about being a vampire?" Spike asks, blinking and yawning. "Corsets don't give ya breathing problems, not matter how long we wear 'em, or how tight." He stands up and stretches. "That being said, take this thing off me."
Giles moves that one step that takes him close enough to Spike, with full intention of helping out, but somehow ends up with his hands sliding up and down Spike's satin-covered waist, fingertips just barely reaching his exposed hips, but never quite caressing the naked skin. He can't seem to look away from Spike's chest, flat muscles framed with black lace. And then he's got his back against the wall, Spike pressed tight against him, lips and fangs against his mouth, kissing him with vicious ferocity. The no-longer-flaccid cock is rubbing against his trouser leg, already leaving a wet stain.
"Spike. We're not going to do this," Giles says. "Again," he adds. "In here," he amends, when it's becoming clear he's as interested as Spike is, and that Spike isn't letting go. And that he lacks any conviction and authority when he tries to pretend he doesn't want to.
Spike pulls back for a brief moment. "Where then?"
"Uh," is all Giles has time to say before the vampire's mouth is against his own again, and the kiss really is too good to be stopped for trivialities such as where, or when, or - the more important one - why.
"Coffee," Giles says, pushing Spike back. "Coffee, and water. And blood for you." Spike licks the side of his throat, a threat dulled by the fact he's been working with Giles - and occasionally sleeping with him - for years now, and if he hadn't done anything so far, he won't pick this moment to bite.
"No tea and scones?"
The smirk really irritates Giles, and so he wipes it off the vampire's face with a hard kiss of his own, hand on the back of the blond head, steadying and guiding, and then pulling Spike back by the hair.
"I just want to make sure the rum is out of our system before we do this again," he says, grinning.
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no subject
Date: 2007-01-27 01:32 am (UTC)*love*
Spike looks so beautiful here. I love your description of him. And:
"You know what's great about being a vampire?" Spike asks, blinking and yawning. "Corsets don't give ya breathing problems, not matter how long we wear 'em, or how tight." He stands up and stretches. "That being said, take this thing off me."
also darling line. So Spike.
much, much love!
no subject
Date: 2007-01-27 01:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-28 02:35 pm (UTC)Spike licks the side of his throat, a threat dulled by the fact he's been working with Giles - and occasionally sleeping with him - for years now, and if he hadn't done anything so far, he won't pick this moment to bite.
Which happened to be a sentence I liked very much. =)
no subject
Date: 2007-01-28 11:30 pm (UTC)I wrote a relatively similar Giles/Spike last year, with smoking and s4; the theme tends to crop up in challenges.
Gives me warm feeling that you enjoyed this - thank you for the comment! :)
no subject
Date: 2007-01-28 11:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-29 12:51 am (UTC)Always fun to see people trying new tastes! Makes me wanna go get an ice-cream icon ;)
no subject
Date: 2007-01-28 05:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-28 11:37 pm (UTC)