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Collateral Damage

Page history last edited by PBworks 15 years, 10 months ago

Collateral Damage

 

Author: NA26

Fandom: Buffy

Pairing: Giles/Wesley

Spoilers: Immediately post-Bad Girls, and then extending through BtVS Season 3.

Warnings: Heavy BDSM, non-con, sexual slavery, and a few hundred kinks. WIP

Summary: Angry with Wesley for his behavior when facing Balthazar, Giles takes him under his control.

 

Nominated Category:

Best Love Slave Fic

 



 

PART ONE: Blackmail

 

Once Balthazar was dead, Giles and Wesley returned to the library, while Buffy and Angel wandered off towards the mansion. They were both quiet, Wesley preferring not to attract attention after his lamentable behavior with the demon, and Giles mulling over how to deal with the situation. They'd have to research to see if they could determine what Balthazar's dying words had meant. First, though, there was Wesley, who'd shown himself to be a liability, at best, and an outright threat at worst. Giles could feel a juggernaut of rage building in his head as he thought about how Wesley had come into his town, tried to take away his Slayer, and then nearly caused a disaster of epic proportions with his incompetence.

 

As they were walking out of the building, having gathered their things, Giles said, "Wesley, come with me."

 

Wesley looked at Giles warily. The events of the day had worn away a good deal of his enthusiasm. He still had his kneecaps, but at the cost of humiliating himself in front of Mr. Giles. He just wanted to go back to his hotel room and sleep. "What is it now?" he asked, the words coming out with more of a snap than he'd intended.

 

Giles gave Wesley a level stare, saving his wrath for when he had Wesley in private. "I'd like to speak with you about what happened this evening."

 

Wesley frowned and straightened up, not liking the insolence in Giles' tone. "Despite your obvious attempts to convince the Slayers otherwise, I'm still in charge here. I don't take orders from you."

 

"But you take orders from supposedly dead demons, is that it?" Giles snapped.

 

Wesley sputtered. "I had no choice! He was threatening to mutilate me."

 

Giles whirled and grabbed Wesley by his miraculously still-neat tie, and shoved him back against the building. "Then you let him mutilate you! Would you like me to tell you in detail what Angelus did to me? If I had your attitude, we'd all be dead."

 

Wesley's head banged against the wall, making him wince. Certainly it wasn't Giles' words that had induced the reaction, he told himself. His mouth opened and closed as he tried to find a response, a defense of his actions that made them sound like the proper thing for a Watcher to do. Nothing was coming to mind.

 

Giles let go of Wesley's tie. "Now. Either get in the car, or plan on booking yourself a flight back to England tomorrow."

 

Wesley pulled himself together. "I hardly think so! The Council appointed me to this post. You have no authority, least of all over me."

 

"And how much authority do you think you'll have when your father and Quentin Travers hear of your performance tonight?" Giles asked mildly.

 

Wesley gaped at him. "You wouldn't dare. They... they wouldn't believe you."

 

"Really? Is that a risk you're willing to take, Wesley?"

 

Wesley knew he was stuck. His father would eagerly believe any news that he'd failed. It seemed he had no choice but to follow along. No doubt Mr. Giles wanted to blackmail himself back into the good graces of the Council. With his head held high, Wesley got into the car.

 

Giles put his briefcase in the back and got in beside Wesley. "Really, Wesley, be grateful. Would you rather I'd let the vampire kill you?"

 

"I can take care of myself, thank you," Wesley sniffed.

 

Giles just snorted. They drove to his apartment in stony silence. Giles wasn't entirely sure what he intended to do with Wesley, yet, but he knew he had to make sure the younger man wouldn't be making himself a danger to everyone else again.

 

They reached what Wesley assumed to be Mr. Giles' apartment. Once they were inside, Wesley had to say something. "I really don't understand why we needed to do this here. If you intend to force me to ask the Council to re-employ you, you could have simply said so. I can't make any promises, of course, but I'll do what I can," he offered, very generously he thought.

 

"I have no interest in working for the Council again," Giles said flatly. "I've come to realize that their word has very little impact on reality. And the reality is that I am still Buffy's Watcher." As he spoke, he casually moved to position himself between Wesley and the door.

 

Wesley took a step back, away from Giles. "What do you want from me?" he asked, confused.

 

Giles faced Wesley squarely. "You endangered my Slayer, myself, and this town tonight. Possibly the entire world. I want to be sure you don't do it again."

 

Wesley squared his shoulders, unwilling to be intimidated any further tonight. "And how do you intend to do that?"

 

"By any means necessary," Giles said. "I think it would be best for everyone if you accepted that you're not prepared for this job. Stand aside and let me do mine."

 

"I hardly think so," Wesley said, full of disbelief. "If you'd done your job right you wouldn't have been fired."

 

"No," Giles said, giving Wesley a withering look. "If I'd gone along with Quentin Travers' archaic ritual I wouldn't have been fired. And precisely what do you think you've been doing so right?"

 

"But I... I've only been here a few days!" Wesley protested. "I'd be doing significantly better if you hadn't turned the Slayers against me." It was a poor excuse, one his father would never have accepted, but it was all he had.

 

"Oh, I think you've done that all by yourself," Giles said, crossing his arms and looking at Wesley pointedly.

 

"You won't do it," Wesley declared. He hoped it sounded more like a statement than a wish, but he wasn't holding his breath for the former.

 

"Won't do what?" Giles asked. "Call the Council? Of course I will. I'll do it right now, if you like." He stepped over to the desk and picked up the phone.

 

"No!" Wesley shouted, and grabbed the phone from Giles hands. He fumbled absurdly with it before managing to get it back into the cradle. He placed his hands firmly over the handset. "Alright. You win," he said, teeth clenched.

 

Giles raised his eyebrows. "You won't interfere in my work with the Slayers?"

 

Every fiber of Wesley's body was screaming that this was wrong. But if he refused, and his father found out what a failure he'd been in his very first week, that would be the end of him. He felt it in his bones. At least if he stayed in Sunnydale, he still had some chance of gaining back his position before his father discovered the truth. "I won't interfere," he said, forcing the words out.

 

"You'll keep the Council out of my hair? Send in your reports like a good little Watcher?" Now that he was sure he had the advantage, Giles moved into Wesley's personal space.

 

"They won't even know you're still here," Wesley replied, flatly. He realized with a start how close Giles was, and took a step back.

 

Giles considered that for a moment. "How do I know I can trust you? How do I know you won't change your mind tomorrow, or a week from now, and cause trouble?"

 

"I won't," Wesley said. "As long as you don't tell the Council."

 

"No," Giles said. As time passed, Wesley would probably care less about the shame of what had happened earlier. "I need you to prove that you'll cooperate with me. Show me you understand you're not in charge anymore."

 

Wesley blinked at him. "Sorry, what? I don't understand."

 

"I want to see that you're committed, Wesley. That you can make sacrifices for this position. If you impress me enough, maybe I'll let you work with us after all--in a limited capacity."

 

The offer was a bitter pill of hope, but it was better than nothing. But Wesley still didn't understand. "And how am I supposed to impress you?" Wesley asked, warily.

 

"By behaving yourself," Giles said. "By following orders."

 

Wesley could do that. He was well-practiced at behaving and following orders. "That shouldn't be a problem," he said, relaxing.

 

"Good," Giles said. "Then take off your tie."

 

Wesley stared at Giles, baffled. "My tie?"

 

"You're not to question me, Wesley," Giles scolded. "Just do as I tell you."

 

Wesley reached up and fingered the knot of his tie. He hesitated, then decided to just take the plunge. If Giles needed proof, Wesley would damn well give it to him. He pulled the tie off roughly and threw it to the ground. "There," he said. "Satisfied?"

 

"Good," Giles said, smiling slightly. "Now your jacket."

 

On a roll now, Wesley struggled out of his jacket and threw that to the floor as well. "What next?" he replied tartly. "My socks? My watch?"

 

"Both, I think," Giles said calmly.

 

After a brief look of disbelief, Wesley removed his watch, this time putting it on the table instead of tossing it aside. Then he toed off his shoes and removed his socks. He felt rather ridiculous jumping through hoops like this, but hopefully it would satisfy.

 

Giles regarded Wesley thoughtfully for a few moments, arms crossed, then said, "Unbutton your shirt. Slowly."

 

Wesley reached for the top button of his shirt, then froze. "I... this seems rather improper," he said, a knot of uncertainty growing in his stomach.

 

"It wouldn't be a very good test if it were easy, now would it?" Giles raised his eyebrows at Wesley expectantly.

 

Wesley couldn't deny the logic to that. He decided to rise to the challenge, and looked straight ahead with a firm gaze as he undid each button.

 

Giles watched with interest as Wesley's shirt gradually parted to reveal a beautifully shaped chest, not too muscular, which Giles liked, but not soft either, and dusted with fine dark hair. His cock stirred slightly, and for the first time since they'd begun, a plan began to crystallize in his mind. The younger man needed to learn his place.

 

"Off," he said, when Wesley finished opening his shirt and glanced at him for approval. "And your trousers."

 

Wesley flinched in shock, but quickly reasserted his resolution. His hands trembled slightly as he slipped off his shirt, then his belt, and then finally his trousers. In the end he had to look down, unable to meet Mr. Giles' gaze.

 

Giles felt a twinge of guilt at the sight of Wesley standing there in nothing but his shorts, beginning to flush with embarrassment. But the guilt was nothing compared to the lust he felt at having Wesley nearly naked before him, his to command. He hadn’t expected this to be so easy.

 

"Good, Wesley," he said approvingly, taking the tone one might with a favored student. "I believe you are capable of following orders." He circled the other man, looking him over with undisguised desire.

 

Wesley's fists clenched as he felt Giles' eyes on him, looking at him. He was starting to be afraid at what he'd gotten himself into. But nothing could be worse than his father; that much he knew for certain.

 

"I want you to go and bend over the desk now," Giles said quietly, once he'd looked his fill, but there was steel in his voice.

 

Wesley swallowed nervously and did as he was told. It seemed that he could feel every grain of the wood against his palms as he pressed them against the desk. That Giles was going to punish him with a spanking was a surprise, but one Wesley could deal with. Physical punishment was nothing new.

 

Giles moved in behind Wesley and placed a hand between his shoulder blades, pushing down until Wesley yielded and bent all the way to the desk, cheek pressing the wood between his palms. Then Giles began stroking his arse gently through the silk of his boxers.

 

Wesley tensed as Giles touched him. It was intimate instead of cruel, and that somehow was worse. A protest was lodged in his throat, making it hard to breathe.

 

Moving in closer, Giles nestled his hardening cock in the cleft of Wesley's arse, rocking his hips slightly, and ran his hands over Wesley's back and sides, pausing here and there to massage gently.

 

Horror descended on Wesley as he realized what was happening. Giles didn't simply want his cooperation. He wanted to... to violate him. A spasm of panic came over him and he tried to wriggle free.

 

When Wesley began struggling, Giles pushed him back down firmly and kicked his legs apart, knocking him off balance. "Stop that," he scolded. "I thought you said you could behave yourself."

 

"I didn't..." Wesley gulped, quivering now. "Not that, please! Please no!" he whimpered.

 

Giles’ cock jerked at the sound of Wesley's pleas. There was a tiny voice in the back of his head telling him this was wrong, but he couldn't seem to help himself. He couldn't think of anyone since Ethan who had brought out the Ripper in him so strongly.

 

"This is your problem, Wesley," he said, bracing his forearms on Wesley's back to hold him down. "You have no sense of self-sacrifice. The entire world might have been at stake, and you were worried about protecting your kneecaps. Now you're asking me to cover your arse from the Council. This is the sacrifice you have to make."

 

Wesley was aghast. "It's wrong," he whimpered, unable to comprehend why Giles would want to do such a thing. "Please, anything else, anything!" he cried, desperate.

 

"I'm not going to hurt you," Giles assured him. It was mostly true. "What are you so afraid of?"

 

"It's unnatural," Wesley said, barely whispering. "It's not allowed."

 

Giles opened his mouth to tell Wesley to stop whining, but stopped as Wesley's words sank in. "You've never done this before, have you?" he asked, pleased that he managed to keep his voice neutral, because inside there was a small part of him crowing with glee.

 

"No," Wesley whimpered. His father had made it very clear to him that such a thing would never be acceptable. That if Wesley were to even speak of such desires it would be an unforgivable offense. He'd locked up all those feelings inside himself and never thought of them again... until now. And now he was to be disgraced in the worst way possible, and he knew that somehow Giles must have seen the potential in him the same way his father had.

 

"Then you're in for a treat," Giles murmured. As Wesley had stopped fighting so hard, he straightened up and moved one hand from Wesley's back to muss Wesley's hair with his fingers. "Just relax and let this happen," he urged.

 

It was no use. Wesley knew that now. He was at Giles' mercy, and it seemed Giles was not inclined to be merciful. He surrendered, stilling himself as Giles touched him. But it was a deceptive stillness, as every inch of him seemed to be trembling with anxiety.

 

When Wesley went still, Giles resumed massaging his back and neck, trying to relax him. He persisted with gentle, soothing touches, not overtly sexual, for several minutes.

 

Gradually, Wesley's trembling began to lessen in intensity. It didn't quite ease off completely, but he was beginning to relax. He didn't know why Giles would bother with this small kindness when he could just take what he wanted, but he didn't really want to think about it anyway.

 

When it seemed as though Wesley had relaxed as much as he was going to, Giles ran one hand over his arse again, then lower to fondle Wesley's balls through the boxers.

 

Wesley didn't want to enjoy this, didn't want to feel pleasure at something he knew was wrong, something he'd never asked for. But Giles clearly knew what he was doing, and with shame Wesley felt his cock start to harden.

 

Giles smiled as he felt Wesley's cock stiffen. He stroked and kneaded it through Wesley's boxers until Wesley was fully hard, thrusting slightly into his hand in spite of himself. "Yes," he whispered. "That feels good, doesn't it, Wesley?"

 

Wesley bit his lip to hold back the whimpers Giles was drawing out of him. He felt ashamed that he couldn't control himself, couldn't stop the feelings inside him. He was as weak as his father had always said. Weak and useless and pathetic, only alive because others kept him around to bend him to their will: his father, the Council, and now Giles. Despite his thoughts, however, his cock continued to throb insistently, making him push against the desk.

 

Giles was nearly ready to start preparing Wesley, but he realized belatedly he had no lube at hand. "Stay here," he ordered, and dashed into the kitchen for a bottle of oil.

 

Wesley felt even more empty as Giles left him alone. He supposed he could take the opportunity to escape, but what would be the point? Now Giles had even more to use against him, and once his father found out he would be disowned and exiled. If he didn't do this, he would have no home to run back to, tail between his legs. His heart had gone numb, as if to protect itself from what had already happened, and what was about to be done to him.

 

Giles started by slicking just his thumb with oil, then carefully slid his hand into Wesley's shorts so he could tease Wesley's opening. His other hand returned to kneading Wesley's cock and balls, keeping him aroused while he adjusted to the new sensations.

 

Wesley tried to tighten against the pressure of Giles' thumb, but it was difficult when his other hand was forcing him to feel pleasure. Fighting it only made it worse, as each wave overwhelmed his paltry defenses and made his muscles flutter.

 

After a minute or two, Giles pushed his thumb into Wesley with firm, steady force, slowly sinking it as deep as it would go, then seeking Wesley's prostate.

 

Wesley cried out in shock as he was penetrated for the first time. Even Giles' thumb seemed too large. It moved inside him, making him hitch against the desk, trying to get away, but Giles' grip on his balls kept him from going very far. Immobilized, Wesley could only bear the discomfort, until a sudden shock of arousal ran up his spine. "What?" he asked, faintly.

 

Giles chuckled softly. "That's your prostate. Rather a marvelous little organ, isn't it?" He kept his thumb buried in Wesley's arse for the time being, curling his other fingers around so he could massage Wesley's prostate from within and without.

 

Wesley could only grunt and moan as Giles coaxed spark after spark of pleasure from his body. The part of his mind that was still thinking, that was always thinking, was marveling that there was a part of himself that could make him feel so good. He felt confused, grateful to Giles for the discovery even in the midst of his defeat and violation.

 

"Good," Giles murmured, "That's good, Wesley. Let me hear you." He slipped his free hand into Wesley's shorts, too, finally grasping his shaft properly, and thumbed the head with just enough pressure to be maddening.

 

Wesley cried out again, louder this time as the stimulation grew more intense. He was lost to it, everything narrowing to what Giles was doing to him. Unable to hold back any longer, he whimpered and moaned, writhing and humping himself even in his shame. Silently he cursed Giles for this, for making him enjoy it.

 

Giles kept stimulating Wesley until he was on the verge of orgasm, then suddenly tugged on his balls and pressed a nerve at the base of his scrotum, stopping him at the last moment.

 

Wesley made a frustrated groan. "Don't," he said, before he could stop himself. He shouldn't even be doing this, much less asking for more.

 

"Don't what?" Giles asked. He slid his thumb out of Wesley's arse and back in, once, but otherwise kept his hands still, making Wesley wait.

 

Wesley tried to hold back the words, but they forced their way out of him. "Don't stop."

 

Giles started fucking Wesley's arse with his thumb slowly but steadily. "Convince me," he said.

 

"What?" Wesley said. His mind was muddled with confusion and unwanted pleasure. "I don't understand," he whimpered.

 

"Tell me why I shouldn't stop," Giles said.

 

Wesley tried to pull together the tattered remains of his dignity. Why should he convince Giles to continue doing anything to him? It was an unconscionable request. But his body was drowning out his mind, drowning out his sense. The only thing that seemed to matter anymore was having the pleasure Giles incited in him, because it was like nothing he had known. Because he had nothing else now, for Giles had taken it all away. "Please," he begged wretchedly, despising himself for his weakness. "Please, I want it."

 

"What do you want, Wesley?" Giles demanded, voice dropping lower, slightly threatening. He still wasn't giving Wesley any stimulation aside from the thumb in his arse.

 

"The feeling... when you touch inside..." It was as if each word was being wrenched out of Wesley, and speaking them caused an almost physical pain. A litany was running at the back of his mind, his father calling him dirty, filthy, disgusting. He didn't want to listen to it anymore, didn't want to be so ashamed of himself he couldn't feel anything but afraid.

 

"Go on," Giles urged, his voice softening again. He stroked Wesley's prostate in reward.

 

Wesley moaned, eyes rolling in his head. "I've never felt anything... it feels so good," he breathed, the words starting to flow easier as he abandoned himself.

 

"Do you want more?" Giles asked. "Do you want to be filled?" He pulled his thumb out most of the way, leaving Wesley empty.

 

"Please," Wesley begged, wanting the sensation back. "Yes, please!"

 

Giles' had to stop touching Wesley entirely as he slicked two more fingers. He knew it was a more than Wesley was ready for, but damn it--he'd never got to play with a virgin arse before. He wanted to make it a little difficult for Wesley. He pushed the two fingers in to the first knuckle and paused to let Wesley adjust. "Like this?" he asked.

 

Wesley gasped, clutching at the desk. He tried to pull away from the invasion, but there was nowhere for him to go. It was almost too much, stretching him out in strange ways.

 

Giles reached around and stroked Wesley's cock a few times to distract him and help him relax. "That’s it, you can take it," he encouraged.

 

Wesley shook his head, but even as he did so he felt the edge of pleasure creeping in again. Giles' words were encouraging, and that made him want to obey, to do things that would make Giles say more things like that. Like he cared, somehow, impossible though it was. Wesley knew he would take even those miserable scraps of attention, as long as they were offered. He tried to widen himself around Giles' fingers, to make the stretching more bearable.

 

"Good, good," Giles continued, and took the opportunity to slide his fingers the rest of the way in. A faint, high-pitched keening emanated from the back of Wesley's throat.


PART TWO: Plunder

 

Giles stroked Wesley's cock again, using his thumb now to rub Wesley's prostate, pressing it against his buried fingers. He waited until the worst of Wesley's discomfort seemed to have faded, then began sliding his fingers in and out, fucking Wesley with a steady, smooth rhythm, mirrored by his hand on Wesley's cock.

 

Wesley's arousal built again, making his hips slowly began to move back and forth in rhythm, meeting Giles' fingers as they pushed in and out of him. He sought out the sparks of pleasure, lost himself in them. Somewhere along the line he'd stopped thinking and now could only react.

 

As Wesley began to move, Giles gradually reduced his own motions, until Wesley was doing most of the work, spearing himself on Giles' finger and then thrusting forward into Giles' hand. Giles let that continue until Wesley was on the brink of orgasm again, then quickly pinched off the critical spot, hooking his fingers in Wesley's arse to hold him still.

 

The sounds Wesley made were little more than mindless whimpers, vague protests against being held back from the brink a second time.

 

"Talk to me, Wesley," Giles said, voice stern. "What do you want? Do you want to be fucked? Do you want to come?"

 

"Let me come," Wesley begged, almost in tears. "Please, please!"

 

"How badly do you want it?" Giles demanded. "Do you want it enough to beg for my cock? Hmm?"

 

Wesley whimpered and tried to rub against the desk, to get some sort of sensation to finish him off, but it was no use. Giles held him from the inside, trapping him like a fish on a hook. As much as he wanted to come, he was afraid. "Please," he begged again. "I've never... never done that. I can't."

 

"You can. I'll help you," Giles promised, "but first I want to hear you beg for it."

 

"I can't," Wesley repeated, desperately. "I'm sorry, I can't. Please."

 

Giles twisted his fingers inside Wesley, scraping his knuckles back and forth across Wesley's prostate. His other hand squeezed and rolled Wesley's balls.

 

"Come on, Wesley," he encouraged. "Show me you've got a little courage."

 

"Will it hurt?" Wesley asked, voice small.

 

"A bit," Giles said, because he intended to make it hurt. "But if you do as I tell you, it will pass quickly."

 

Perhaps this was his true punishment after all. To volunteer to be hurt when he'd already proven how afraid he was of pain. All he could do was face it, and hope that Giles wouldn't be too cruel in its execution. "All right," he said, dully.

 

Giles tsked. "That won't do at all. I want to hear you say, 'Giles, please fuck me in the arse.'"

 

Wesley swallowed and tried to find his voice. "Giles, please... please fuck me in... in the arse," he managed.

 

"Better." Giles rubbed his thumb over the head of Wesley's cock in reward. "Now say it like you mean it."

 

A wave of shame washed over Wesley. He'd thought that it was impossible to sink any lower, but Giles kept finding new ways for him to humiliate himself.

 

"Giles, please f-fuck me in the arse," he said, more clearly this time.

 

"Again," Giles said. When Wesley did it again, he said, "Louder." Wesley repeated himself again, slightly louder, burning with shame. When Giles made him say it a fifth time, his voice was loud enough to be heard clearly in every part of the small apartment.

 

"Good," Giles said, his voice a low purr of approval. "Now, since you've asked so nicely..." He gave Wesley a parting thrust of his fingers, then slid his braces off his shoulders and opened his trousers, freeing his aching cock.

 

Wesley felt his stomach tighten in fear and anticipation. He tasted bitterness, as if his begging had taken physical form in his mouth. The wait was making it worse, every second giving him more time to imagine the worst.

 

Giles slicked his cock quickly, hissing because he was harder than he'd realized, almost ready to come. Then he applied a little extra oil to his fingers and slid them back into Wesley's arse, stretching deliberately now, alternately scissoring them apart and pulling to open Wesley's anal ring.

 

Wesley tried to relax, but Giles was stretching him faster than he could adapt. In the end he just tried to make himself as slack as possible, letting Giles mold him into the shape he desired. This was beyond even the notion of control for him.

 

Eventually, Wesley's opening was stretched enough that Giles felt confident he could fuck Wesley without injuring him. He could have added another finger, prepared him more thoroughly so that there would be little or no pain, but he didn't want to. It was a silly concession to vanity, he knew, but he wanted his cock to be more than Wesley was ready for, wanted it to feel huge and overwhelming at first.

 

He withdrew his fingers from Wesley's arse again and grasped Wesley's hips, pinning his boxers out of the way with one hand. He quickly positioned his cock at Wesley's entrance and pushed the head in slowly, egged on by Wesley's mewls of pain and fear. He went no further, though, just held Wesley's hips still so he couldn't pull away.

 

It was too much for Wesley to bear, but he had no choice in the matter. He made small noises, like an animal caught in a trap. Giles' cock felt impossibly wide pushing into him, and Wesley feared he might tear inside, split open by something he was never meant to know.

 

Giles rubbed his thumbs soothingly across Wesley's arse. "Push out," he instructed. "It won't hurt as much."

 

Wesley did as he was told, bearing down onto Giles' cock. It did help, so he kept doing it. Then, with a shock, he realized he was spearing himself further onto Giles' cock, and he tightened up again, clenching around it. That hurt and it drove him to flutter open again. He opened and closed, caught in a loop, involuntarily working Giles' cock deeper and deeper.

 

Giles closed his eyes and leaned his head back at the sensations Wesley was creating, gasping quietly in ecstasy.

 

Eventually the reflexive reactions began to taper off. Wesley had somehow ended up with almost half of Giles' cock inside him. He took rapid, shallow breaths as his body oriented itself to its new predicament.

 

"Deep breaths, Wesley," Giles instructed. He held still for now, glad to give his body a chance to calm down. Since he didn't need to hold Wesley's hips anymore, he petted Wesley's flank lightly with one hand, while the other resumed stroking Wesley's cock. "You're doing well," he said. "Just relax. Tensing up is what makes it hurt."

 

Wesley nodded, faintly. He took deep breaths and relaxed his muscles again, letting Giles' instructions override his instincts. It still wasn't comfortable, but it wasn't painful this way, and Giles' hand on his cock was helping in its own way.

 

After giving Wesley another few minutes to adjust, Giles slowly--excruciatingly slowly--pulled out and pushed back in, only as far as he'd been before, not trying to go deeper yet. He repeated the motion, ever-so-gradually increasing the pace.

 

Wesley grunted, keeping himself as open and relaxed as possible as Giles moved in and out of him. His whole body was slick with perspiration, flushed hot with exertion. His limbs trembled from the effort of holding himself up.

 

When he was able to move in and out of Wesley at a reasonable speed, Giles pushed deeper, adding just a tiny bit to each thrust. His cock was painfully hard, demanding that he come soon, but he didn't want to end this prematurely.

 

As Giles moved deeper in, Wesley's grunts became higher pitched, transforming into whimpers. He pushed himself up on his hands, arching higher off the desk. The fullness and stretching and penetration had evolved into an indescribable sensation. He began to push back into it, meeting Giles' thrusts and sending them deeper.

 

Giles smiled triumphantly as Wesley began to respond. Finally sheathed all the way, he stopped to give himself another chance to recover. He gripped the base of Wesley's cock, holding him still, and played with Wesley's balls for a while.

 

Wesley was skewered on Giles' cock, filled completely. He was in a daze, barely able to believe what was happening to him. He could never have imagined feeling this way, letting someone do this to him. Fuck him. "Fuck me," he said, unconsciously echoing his thoughts.

 

"Yes," Giles hissed. He shifted his grip so that his thumb and forefinger were clamped around Wesley's cock and balls like a cock ring and began to fuck him in earnest, thrusting deep and hard.

 

Wesley's body swayed back and forth from the force of Giles driving into him. He felt himself opening further, as if becoming accustomed to the way he was stretched wide around Giles' cock. His body was finally accepting it, he realized, and shuddered. He felt wanton, depraved; Giles had corrupted him, possibly irrevocably. And as ashamed as he felt, part of him welcomed it. He arched back further, bowing his body as he sought more of what Giles was giving him. His ecstasy built higher and higher, his mind blanking out as his body took over completely, controlled by every touch and thrust Giles made.

 

As Giles felt his orgasm approaching, he resumed stroking Wesley's cock. "Do you want to come, Wesley?" he asked, his voice breathy from exertion.

 

"Oh God," Wesley groaned. "Please, please, please." He didn't think he could bear it if Giles denied him again. "Please, Giles, please fuck me. Please let me come." He rambled, delirious, trying to say everything that he knew Giles would like.

 

"Yes," Giles said. "You may come." He began fucking Wesley and stroking his cock in a unified rhythm, now determined to drive Wesley over the edge.

 

"Thank you, thank you," Wesley mumbled, gratitude flooding his body.

 

The sound of Wesley thanking him for this depravity was enough to spark Giles' orgasm unexpectedly. He buried his cock in Wesley as the most intense orgasm he'd had in years tore through him, taking away all his control.

 

Wesley shuddered as Giles speared into him again, and it seemed to be deeper than he'd ever reached. Giles' hand clenched tightly around Wesley's cock, and it was as if Wesley was prey that Giles had tight in his grasp. The image and sensations were enough to finally push him over the brink, and he came incredibly hard, pulsing around Giles' cock and in his hand, his whole body bucking and shuddering helplessly. His eyes rolled back in his head and the world grayed out for a bit; when the pounding faded from his ears, he was lying limp against the desk, caught in Giles' arms and still full of his cock.

 

Giles had collapsed on top of Wesley in the aftermath of his orgasm, but as he regained his senses he straightened up and pulled out of Wesley. He wiped his cock clean with the hem of Wesley's boxers, then tucked himself back into his trousers.

 

"Well," he said shakily, then paused to steady his voice. He laid a hand in the middle of Wesley's back to keep him from getting up. "I'd say your self-discipline needs a great deal of work, but at least you've shown willing. There may be hope for you, yet."

 

Wesley thought idly that Giles didn't need to hold him down, because he didn't think he had the strength to stand anyway. As the euphoria of orgasm faded, it was replaced with a hollow feeling. He remembered that all of this had been a show of power, Giles' over Wesley, and not in any way an act of caring or love. This had been Giles marking him, putting him firmly in his place. Wesley felt despair creeping into the edge of his mind, and realized that his place was very low indeed.

 

Wesley's boxers were soaked with come, his and Giles'. Giles hooked his fingers in the waist and drew them down, nudging Wesley's feet together so that he could step out of them.

 

"Get dressed. I'll take you back to your car," he said, then turned and went into the bathroom, taking Wesley's shorts with him.

 

Wesley lay there for a minute or two, just trying to catch his breath. He didn't dare let his mind dwell on what had just happened, because he was fairly certain he would end up breaking down in the middle of Giles' flat. He knew with terrible certainty that that would not endear him to the man, and right now Wesley could not afford that. Not if he wanted to survive this.

 

In the bathroom, Giles hung Wesley's shorts over the curtain rod to dry. He might return them some day, but for now he wanted to keep them. They were a physical symbol of how completely he’d dominated Wesley.

 

As he dropped his trousers and cleaned himself up more thoroughly, he thought about what had just happened. There was a small part of him that was in shock over what he'd done to Wesley. His rational mind told him he'd committed a heinous crime, that what he'd done to Wesley was unconscionable. The man had begged him to stop, for God's sake, but Giles could find no sense of guilt in the memory of forcing himself on Wesley, ignoring his pleas for mercy. Instead he felt a hard edge of satisfaction, and an intense craving for more.

 

Wesley had needed to be dealt with before he endangered anyone else. Certainly Giles had gone further than was absolutely necessary, but something in Wesley had practically begged for it, even before Giles had given him his first order. Really, it was amazing that no one else had made it there first, considering the beautiful way Wesley bowed for him.

 

Giles accomplished what he needed to, though, and there was no sense in making Wesley feel even worse. He washed his hands and headed back out to the main room, and stopped in surprise when he saw Wesley still bent over the desk.

 

"Wesley," he said. "Get dressed. Unless you care to go home naked?"

 

"Sorry," Wesley said, dully. He pushed himself off the desk with care, wincing at the throbbing ache in his arse. Walking proved more difficult than he'd expected; he embraced the pain, each jab reminding him what he was now. He was nothing.

 

He bent down slowly and gathered his clothes. They were wrinkled, and he felt embarrassed for them. He couldn't feel anything about himself anymore. He began the awkward process of putting on his clothes, one piece at a time.

 

Giles leaned back against the wall and waited with crossed arms. Wesley had missed his chance to put himself back together in relative privacy. Once Wesley was dressed he nodded at the door. "Shall we?"

 

Wesley nodded absently, walking slowly towards the door. He stared straight ahead and tried not to think about anything more than putting one foot in front of the other. Anything else would overwhelm him.

 

They drove back to the school in complete silence. Giles dropped Wesley by his car. In the back of his mind he wondered if Wesley was fit to drive at the moment, but dismissed the thought.

 

"I'll see you in the morning," he said, as Wesley prepared to close the passenger side door. The casual words were spoken with just enough edge to turn them into an order.

 

A small voice in Wesley's head cried out that there was no point to him doing anything anymore, much less pretending he had a job or even his dignity. But the whole reason he had let Giles... let him fuck him (and the word felt foul and dirty even in his head), was so that Giles would let him pretend. It was a devil's deal, but it was too late now to escape it.

 

"See you tomorrow," Wesley said, mechanically. He closed the car door and walked to his own. Everything seemed to be happening from far away as he turned the key and let himself in. He sat down and closed the door, sealing himself in, then stared into the distance, hands limp at his sides.

 

Giles watched Wesley for a few minutes, then put the little Citroen in gear and drove home. When he went inside, he poured himself a glass of Scotch, then wandered into the bathroom and stared at Wesley's boxers for a while. He'd let himself go too far tonight, and from the look of things Wesley wasn't going to be needing any further lessons. If there was trouble, well, he'd deal with it then. He wasn't going to do anything to make Wesley life more miserable if he didn't have to. The memory of Wesley's pleading, his suffering, and his utter surrender at the end would fuel Giles' fantasies for months, and that would have to be enough.

 

Wesley wasn't sure how much time had passed, just sitting there. Eventually he must have found the will to drive himself home, because the next thing he knew he was sitting in the bathtub in his hotel room, wrapped in a tight ball. The water was cooling around him, making him shiver continuously, but he couldn't seem to make himself move to get out or even turn on the faucet. He fell asleep that way, and woke up a short time later, freezing, sore, and utterly miserable.

 

Some automatic habit finally took hold. It made him leave the bath and dry himself, rubbing the towel against his skin until it felt raw, the first sensation to break through the numbness. He brushed his teeth and put on his pajamas.

 

Sometime around five in the morning, he was finally able to cry.


 

PART THREE: Isolation

 

Giles awoke well before his alarm, his cock already achingly hard. He took a shower, and stared at Wesley’s shorts while he wanked, the echo of Wesley's voice begging him for mercy in his ears. Feeling deeply satisfied, he took his time getting ready for work and still managed to be at the library just before seven. He wondered how he'd feel when he saw Wesley again.

 

Wesley opened his eyes and immediately closed them again. The bright California sun glared in through his hotel room window. His clock was playing a radio alarm, tuned to some obnoxious morning radio jock. Wesley fumbled around until he found the off button, and then fell back against his pillow.

 

He felt exhausted, all the way down to the bone. He'd slept poorly, when he'd managed to sleep at all, and his eyes were dry and red. This is it, he thought.

 

The first day of his new, horrible life. His only use would be as a front for the Council, or far worse, as a body for Giles to abuse and then throw away again. He was worthless. He was nothing. He wanted to die.

 

But the small voice in him spoke up again, reminding him that there was still some hope. If he could only hold on somehow, do as Giles demanded, then there was a chance Giles would set him free. He could find a way back to England without his father ever knowing of his now plentiful disgraces. He could transfer to some research position in a dusty corner of headquarters and then hide there until he rotted. He couldn't imagine any other fate for him, except one of public disgrace and excommunication.

 

He forced himself out of bed. If it was possible, he felt more aches and pains than last night. His gait was an elderly man's shuffle as he walked painfully to the bathroom. A stranger stared back at him in the mirror, haggard and unshaven, deadened eyes underlined with dark circles. He forced himself to look at his reflection. This was what he was now. The bare, honest truth. A victim.

 

It was little wonder that his father had warned him away from other boys, other men. He of all people knew how weak Wesley was, how easy he was to hurt. His father used that knowledge at every opportunity, as if trying to carve some kind of form from his shapeless will. And now Giles had the knife, and his cut was equally unkind. Wesley wondered if there would be anything left of him, when they were done with him. He doubted it.

 

The only thing that was left to him was to go through the motions. He shaved and put on a clean suit, slicked his hair down and schooled his features. He practiced walking, trying to make the action appear casual, no matter how much it hurt. But there was nothing he could do to hide the emptiness in his eyes.

 

He looked at the clock, resigned. It was time to go to work.

 

Wesley finally arrived, only a few minutes late. Part of Giles wanted to make an issue of it, but he stopped himself. Considering what he'd done to the younger man, Giles could understand if he was having some trouble adjusting. He certainly looked like hell, despite the customary neat suit and gelled-down hair. Giles was somewhat appalled to find he still felt no guilt for his actions, but he understood that he would need to give Wesley some space and time to recover. He'd prefer to have Wesley functional and useful, rather than catatonic; he'd have to be more careful now than he'd been last night for that to happen.

 

He nodded at Wesley in greeting, smiling slightly to indicate he meant no harm. He considered asking how Wesley was doing, but decided it would be more merciful to pretend that everything was normal. "Ready to work?" he said, instead.

 

Wesley couldn't stop the flinch as Giles spoke to him. He took a few steps away from Giles, trying to make the action appear casual rather than cowering. He didn't even know what work was supposed to be anymore. "Yes," he answered, voice rough.

 

Giles observed Wesley's reaction clinically, though part of him was gratified by Wesley's fear, and kept his face blank as he handed him a stack of books. "We need to find out what Balthazar was talking about when he died. He said, 'When he rises...' I've no idea what that means or who 'he' is. All these texts reference Balthazar. Perhaps we can gain some clue by looking at his associations."

 

Some small relief trickled in. Wesley would read and research. That much he could handle. He took the books gratefully, then turned to take them to a corner table, away from the main area. He would do this work for Giles, and Giles would be satisfied, and then he could go back to his hotel room and it would all be over, for now.

 

The day went, surprisingly, just as Wesley expected. Giles checked in on him every once in a while, and even went so far as to offer to bring him lunch while he worked, but otherwise he was left alone. Giles seemed to be running interference with the students, too.

 

When nothing out of the ordinary happened, the day began to feel almost normal. Wesley's appetite, which had vanished, made a brief appearance in the early afternoon. He managed to eat the orange that was part of the lunch Giles had brought him, but that was all. Still, it was something.

 

The rest of the week went on the same way. Wesley would come into the library and research Balthazar all day. He was sequestered like a monk, his only human contact the brief moments when Giles would bring him lunch, and when he was instructed to go home for the night. At first the solitude was a relief, because Wesley didn't know how he'd react if he was forced to speak with anyone. By the second day, however, he was starting to feel like the prisoner he was. He wondered if this was it, if Giles was going to just hide him away for weeks or months until he was done with him. An incredibly lonely future stretched out before him, of his empty hotel room and his solitary corner of the library. At least when he was at the library, Giles was there. He stayed later and later at the library, not wanting to go back to the hotel. Instead of leaving at the end of the school day, when the building emptied, he stayed in his little corner, working. Eventually Giles would tell him to go home, but at least he had until then.

 

It was disturbing to feel grateful for the presence of the man who had... who had used him like that, forced him... he couldn't even think the words, much less say them. As traumatic as the actual night had been, the worst was how it had ended. Some part of Wesley had thought Giles might feel something for him, fooled by the expert way he had coaxed pleasure out of Wesley's body. But the abrupt dismissal afterwards had taught him otherwise. Now, days later, the little time Giles spent with him was beginning to feel like the only thing he had left to look forward to. It was pathetic, it was wrong, but he couldn't help himself. Being alone hurt too much.

 

On the third night, he tried to masturbate. At first he couldn't seem to make himself hard, and he squeezed his cock punishingly, frustrated. The moment he did so, it was Giles' hand there instead, and Giles' body against his back and in his arse. He hardened almost painfully fast, but scared himself so much that the only thing he could do was take a cold shower until his erection subsided. He lay awake for a long time that night, unable to sleep for fear of what he might dream.

 

On Friday, Giles didn't appear at his usual time, so Wesley kept working, reading through yet another fruitless book. It was getting late, and Wesley was hungry for dinner, but he couldn't make himself leave. Not on his own.

 

When Giles found Wesley still at work after training was over, he shook his head in amazement. "Wesley, go home," he said gently.

 

"But... I haven't found anything yet," Wesley said. He was afraid that another failure, especially so soon, would make Giles angry again. If he had to, he would stay here all weekend and work until he had something to offer. It wasn't as if he had anything to go home to anyway.

 

Giles raised his eyebrows. "There may be nothing to find. We just have to check. In any case, you've done more than enough today. Go home."

 

"All right," Wesley said, looking down. He wasn't going to argue, didn't dare to. He tidied the books and got ready to leave.

 

Giles nodded, satisfied, and went to prepare to leave, himself.

 

At the library doors, Wesley stopped and turned back. He hesitated, trying to gather the strength to ask the question. "Giles?" he asked, quietly.

 

Giles looked up from closing his briefcase. "Yes?"

 

"Do you want me to do anything else?" Wesley continued. He kept his voice meek, his posture submissive. His stomach was clenched with anxiety. All week long he'd been waiting for Giles to grab him and hurt him again, or at least threaten to, yet the worst thing Giles had done was ignore him. It had taken him the whole week just to work up the nerve to ask. Wesley needed some grasp of what things were going to be like from now on.

 

Giles looked at him and had to fight back a surge of lust at the offer and Wesley's body language. He did want it, but he'd sworn he'd leave Wesley alone. "No," he said, shaking his head.

 

Relief flooded Wesley's veins, leaving him shaky. But all he did was nod in understanding. "Good night," he said, and then looked up, waiting for Giles to dismiss him.

 

"Good night," Giles said, staring at Wesley with mild confusion. Surely he hadn't wanted him to...?

 

Wesley turned to go, then realized Giles was staring at him. "Yes?" he said, quietly, waiting.

 

Giles wasn't sure it was a good idea, but he couldn't help asking. If Wesley actually wanted more from him, that changed things considerably. "Wesley, would you like to come home with me?"

 

Wesley was about to refuse, the way he would have if things were normal, but things were not normal. He would prefer to be with Giles if it meant he didn't have to be alone. But he was also afraid of accepting, if it meant Giles would hurt him again. He felt fragile, cracked inside, like a glass on the verge of shattering. His mind flickered back to the other night: his attempt at masturbation, and the frightening strength of his arousal.

 

"Will you..." he began, then swallowed before continuing. "Will it be like before?" he asked, warily.

 

"In what way?" Giles asked, tilting his head curiously. "Do you mean will I fuck you?"

 

"Will you hurt me?" Wesley asked, afraid that even the question was too much. He closed his eyes, trembling faintly. "I don't want to be alone," he admitted. "But..."

 

Giles walked over to Wesley, cursing at himself silently because he knew he was obeying the letter of his own law, not the spirit. But Wesley's vulnerability was a siren call. He brought his hand up to Wesley's face and brushed his thumb lightly over Wesley's cheek. "I won't hurt you," he promised, "as long as you're a good boy."

 

Wesley let out a shuddering breath that he hadn't even realized he was holding. "I'll be good," he promised, inordinately grateful.

 

Giles nodded, taking him at his word, and gathered his briefcase before heading for the car. "Come along, then."

 

Wesley followed along after him. The world felt unreal, but at least Giles seemed steady. He felt a strange tingling in his stomach, and it took him a while to realize what it was: anticipation.

 

Much like the last time, Giles didn't speak as they drove to his apartment. Once they were inside, he put his things down and tossed his jacket over the back of the chair before turning to Wesley. He reached out and trailed fingertips down the front of Wesley's shirt thoughtfully, then began to loosen Wesley's tie. "Now that you're here, what shall I do with you?" he mused.

 

Wesley held still as Giles touched him. He wondered vaguely if this was some sort of trick question. He didn't have an answer of his own, so he went with what felt right. "Whatever you want?" he tried, hoping that was the right response.

 

Giles hummed with approval as Wesley's words caused a jolt of arousal in his groin. "I like the sound of that. But why don't you give me a suggestion? What's something you'd like me to do to you, Wesley?"

 

Wesley didn't feel up to asking to be fucked, not the least because of how sore he'd been all week. And he didn't dare ask for Giles to suck his cock, afraid to presume that far. "Will you... touch me?" he asked.

 

"Touch you how?" Giles asked. "And where?" His hand was resting against Wesley's flank, inside his jacket.

 

This part of the request was far more difficult. "I liked it when... when you pressed inside," he admitted. "But not when it hurt."

 

Giles nodded. "I wasn't exactly gentle last time," he acknowledged. "However, I don't believe you're ready for that yet. What about the rest of you? Where do you like to be touched? Are you ticklish?"

 

"A little," he said, the ducked his head. "I haven't really... I mean, I've had sex, with women, but..."

 

"You're inexperienced," Giles said understandingly. He smiled and unbuttoned one button on Wesley's shirt so he could slip his hand inside. "I like that. Means other people haven't been touching what's mine." His voice was light, but he met Wesley's eyes with dead seriousness.

 

Wesley felt a tightness in his chest. "Am I?" he asked, faintly.

 

"Since you took that tie off for me," Giles said bluntly.

 

Wesley didn't know why he found that to be so arousing, but he did. Perhaps he'd been alone so long, years before he'd arrived, that it meant that much more to have someone claim him entirely. Even if Giles had forced him the first time, he had to admit, to himself at least, that he'd enjoyed the sex. More than enjoyed--it had been mind-blowing. The emptiness afterwards had been at least partly because Giles had simply abandoned him. But if Giles truly wanted him, had decided to keep him... Lord, even the thought made his stomach twist.

 

Humiliation didn't matter. He'd spent his entire life being humiliated. But possession, ownership, desire... these were new to him, and he wanted to have them.

 

Giles could practically see Wesley's thoughts, scrolling across his face like a billboard. He grasped Wesley's chin gently and brushed his thumb over Wesley's lips. "You like that, don't you?"

 

"I... I want it," Wesley said, summoning the answer from deep inside himself. "Please."

 

Giles nodded, an eager burn blossoming through his chest. "Then you'll have it." He pressed his thumb against Wesley's lips, seeking entrance.

 

Wesley let his lips part gratefully, letting Giles' thumb into him. It was the first thing Giles had penetrated him with before, and now he was doing it again. Wesley shivered, wondering if that meant his cock would soon follow. He wanted to be good for Giles, to prove he was worth keeping. He wanted it desperately.

 

Using his thumb and a steady pull on Wesley's tie, Giles urged Wesley to his knees. "Lick," he instructed, his thumb still in Wesley's mouth. Wesley complied eagerly, and Giles brought his free hand up to comb his fingers through Wesley's hair.

 

Wesley closed his eyes as Giles stroked him, petted him. He sucked hard, taking Giles' thumb as far as he could and licking back and forth along it, hoping his initiative would be appreciated.

 

"Promising," Giles murmured. "You'll have to learn to be careful with your teeth."

 

Pulling his thumb from Wesley's mouth, he said, "I'm going to make dinner. I want you to take your clothes off--hang them in the closet this time--and wait in front of the fireplace."

 

"Yes, sir," he said, the title a reflex from all the authority figures in his life.

 

Giles beamed at Wesley approvingly. "You are going to be a good boy, aren't you?"

 

"I hope so, sir," Wesley said, looking up at Giles with a hopeful expression. He decided to keep using the title, because Giles liked it, and because it suited him.

 

Feeling exceptionally pleased with Wesley, Giles kissed him on the top of the head before he turned and went into the kitchen.

 

The top of Wesley's head tingled. It was the first time Giles had kissed him. A warm feeling spread through him, and after some searching he recognized it as happiness. He hurried to follow Giles' instructions to the letter, hanging his clothes neatly in the closet and then taking his spot in front of the fireplace to wait. His palms were sweaty and his heart was racing with nervousness, but it was the best kind he'd ever felt. His cock stayed half-hard as he stood, naked and expectant.

 

Giles worked in the kitchen for a few minutes, then glanced out to where Wesley was waiting. "Wesley," he called, "if I've given you no other instructions, I expect you to be on your knees, with your hands behind your back."

 

"Sorry, sir," Wesley said, and immediately went to his knees, putting his hands behind his back. His stomach twisted, and he chastised himself for not realizing the full extent of Giles' instructions. Clearly he needed to pay closer attention.

 

"Much better," Giles said. He ignored Wesley for a long time as he prepared dinner, wonderful smells filling the apartment and reminding Wesley how long it had been since he'd eaten. When Giles finally emerged from the kitchen, he was carrying a single heaping bowl of stir fried vegetables and beef with steamed rice.

 

"That smells wonderful," Wesley said. He wasn't sure if there was a rule about speaking only when spoken to. If so, he'd had plenty of practice, but he didn't want to presume.

 

"Hungry?" Giles asked, sitting in his old leather chair.

 

"Yes, please," Wesley said, emphatically. He took a long sniff, almost able to taste the food from its smell.

 

Giles hesitated just an instant, feeling a brief pang of guilt at the way he was making Wesley debase himself, then shook it off easily. Wesley wanted this, strange as it seemed, and he was only too happy to oblige.

 

"Come here," he said, picking up a bite of food with his chopsticks and holding it out towards Wesley.

 

Wesley crawled forward on his knees, a little wobbly from keeping his hands behind his back. But he'd already made one mistake about the kneeling and didn't want to make another. He stopped just short of the proffered food and waited.

 

"Go on," Giles urged, as he was already reaching as far as he cared to.

 

Wesley crawled the rest of the way forward, opening his mouth to slide it over the chopsticks. When the food on them was fully in his mouth, he closed his lips around the chopsticks, then leaned back to let them slide out, keeping the food inside. He closed his eyes and chewed, moaning at the taste.

 

Giles watched in utter fascination. He had never imagined someone reacting so intensely to the simple act of being fed. It did something unnamable to his insides, and his cock stirred a bit.

 

When Wesley opened his eyes, Giles was still watching raptly, but he quickly schooled his face into sternness.

 

Wesley swallowed and licked his lips. "May I have some more?" he asked, politely.

 

"Of course," Giles said. He fed Wesley another bite, and another, and another. Realizing belatedly that he probably wasn't sending the right message by indulging Wesley so much, he stopped and ate for a while, himself.

 

With the edge of his hunger taken off, Wesley was able to concentrate on Giles. He hadn't had much of a chance to just look at him, so he did now, eyes sweeping his body with a hunger he was finally beginning to understand and acknowledge. He wanted to see Giles naked, and that thought made him more aware of his own nakedness, and that made his cock twitch with anticipation.

 

Giles didn't miss the way Wesley was staring at him, but he had no desire to stop him. It made him feel desired physically, in the way that Wesley's unexpected obedience made him feel desired for who he was. His cock was already half hard in his trousers, every bite that Wesley ate making it a little harder. By the time they'd finished the food, his mind was quickly becoming clouded with lust.

 

Wesley's belly was full, sating his hunger for food, but their meal had left him with a sharp desire for Giles and a cock that was rising eagerly. He wanted Giles to touch him again, in whatever way pleased him.

 

Giles ordered Wesley to move in closer, until he was close enough that Giles could easily reach out and stroke his cock. He did so, looking at Wesley speculatively.

 

"So," he said, "you like being mine."

 

Wesley hadn't had very long to judge by, but so far he was very pleased. "I do," he said, voice languid with arousal.

 

"Do you really understand what it means, Wesley?" Giles continued stroking Wesley's cock as he spoke. "I take care of you, yes, but in return I can do whatever I like with you. Or to you. That won't always mean things you enjoy, and if you refuse to cooperate, you'll suffer the consequences."

 

Wesley sobered, understanding that his answer was important to Giles. "I want this," he said. "What you did to me... it was frightening and it hurt, but it was the best thing I've ever felt," he said, the words pouring out in a rush at the end. "I want to be good enough for this. For you."

 

Giles sat silent for a moment, until he could speak without groaning his pleasure. "Then I think we'll get along swimmingly," he said, voice low and thick.


 

PART FOUR: Rules

 

Giles' hand continued to move lazily up and down Wesley's shaft.

 

"There are few bookkeeping details we should clear up," he continued in a more normal tone. "First of all, you're to cancel your arrangements with the hotel and bring your things here tomorrow."

 

"Yes, sir," Wesley said, happy to do so.

 

"Second--but this is really critical, Wesley--I want you to understand that this--" Giles gave Wesley's cock a firm squeeze "--is off limits to you. You're not to touch yourself or stimulate yourself in any way. I'll make an exception if you absolutely must touch yourself in order to go to the loo, but don't abuse the privilege. Is that clear?"

 

The order was clear and definite, and made Wesley's stomach flutter. "I'm not allowed to touch or stimulate myself in any way," Wesley repeated, letting the words sink in. The object in question grew harder. Giles owned his cock now. Owned all of him. Wesley was giving up all control to him. "Yes, sir," he said again, feeling lightheaded.

 

"Good," Giles said. "Let's see... we've already covered kneeling. I suppose I should add to that that if we're here alone, I expect you to be naked. Can you think of anything else?"

 

Wesley shuddered. Naked. Kneeling. Oh God. And Giles wanted him to make a rule for himself, something he'd be bound to do by Giles' command. A thought occurred to him from earlier. "I could only speak when spoken to?" he offered. There were very few things in his life that he'd ever been successful at, in his father's eyes, but at least by obeying that rule he'd earned some fragment of approval. Perhaps Giles would be pleased as well.

 

Giles nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, I think that's appropriate for you. Very well." He considered for a moment longer. "Well, that's a start. I'm sure I'll add a few more items as I think of them."

 

A ripple of pleasure ran through Wesley at the rule's acceptance, and the promise of more. "Please, sir, if I may ask something?"

 

Giles raised his eyebrows and considered calling Wesley on breaking his own rule, but he was curious. "What is it?"

 

"What about at the school? With the Slayers? Or in public? What are the rules for there?" Wesley was hungry for Giles to set his boundaries, to tell him how to be.

 

"I was just thinking about that," Giles said. "You can't go around naked, of course, much as I might wish it. Kneeling's out as well, but I think having your hands behind your back when you've nothing else to do with them is a fine idea. As is not speaking to anyone who doesn't speak to you first."

 

"Thank you, sir," Wesley said, grateful. He'd lived his life by his father's rules, and had never been comfortable in the few years he'd been without them. But this, this was better in so many ways.

 

"And, Wesley--if you need my attention, you may say my name. No more."

 

Wesley nodded. Already he felt lighter, more relaxed. If he didn't have to speak unnecessarily, he didn't feel compelled to babble and end up saying the wrong thing.

 

Giles gave Wesley's cock one last, slow stroke and stood up to take the dirty bowl into the kitchen. He spent a few minutes cleaning up from dinner, ignoring Wesley again.

 

Wesley stayed kneeling in front of the chair, hands behind his back, cock hard and untouched. In his head, he went over the rules again and again, committing them to memory.

 

Giles finished in the kitchen and went to rummage around in the closet. He thought he still had a set of leather cuffs and a few other toys around, though he hadn't used them in years. They'd have to go on a shopping trip to one of the local sex shops soon, but in the meantime he would make do with what he had. He finally came up with the battered old cardboard box, unopened since he'd moved to Sunnydale.

 

He walked back into the main room and tapped Wesley's shoulder. "You mentioned wanting me to touch you, earlier. I think I'd like to do that now."

 

Wesley nodded. He wasn't sure if he should stand or not, so he stayed on his knees, opting for the safer option until Giles gave him a new order.

 

"Come on," Giles said, when Wesley didn't get up. "Let's go upstairs."

 

Wesley stood, keeping his hands behind his back, and followed Giles upstairs. He stopped next to the bed, waiting and curious as to what would happen next.

 

Giles pulled the blankets off the bed. "Lie on your back," he instructed Wesley.

 

Wesley crawled onto the bed and lay down at the center, letting his hands rest at his sides.

 

Giles set his box on the nightstand and opened it up, and was pleased to find everything he remembered inside, including--yes!--an old black silk blindfold.

 

He pulled it out and turned to put it on Wesley.

 

Wesley held his breath as Giles tied the blindfold securely around his head. He could see nothing through it, not even a glimmer of light. He pressed his hands flat against the bed, as if to steady himself.

 

It took a few minutes to get all the ropes anchored to the bed where Giles needed them, and then he got out the cuffs. He laid all four out on the bed, then took Wesley's right wrist and began buckling the first one in place.

 

Wesley gasped when Giles locked the first cuff around his wrist, but said nothing. He put up no resistance, and soon all four of his limbs were stretched out and tied down.

 

Giles bound Wesley loosely enough that he wouldn't become uncomfortable quickly, but still tightly enough that he could do no more than wriggle a bit. He stood back for a moment, admiring the view he'd created, then he sat down on the bed by Wesley's side. Wesley had said something about being ticklish, so he teased his fingertips lightly across Wesley's ribs to see what happened.

 

Wesley squirmed as Giles tickled him, but was brought up short by his bonds when he tried to move away. Pleased by the way Wesley squirmed and writhed, Giles continued to tickle him until he was gasping so shallowly that Giles feared he might hyperventilate. He stroked his palms across Wesley's ribs to ease the sensations. "Breathe, Wesley," he admonished.

 

Wesley forced his breathing to slow down, taking deeper breaths as his body calmed itself. It was harder for him not to talk; he was already so restrained, and he wanted to tell Giles how he was feeling. But he had chosen the rule, and of all of the rules it would be poor form for him to break this one.

 

As Wesley calmed down, Giles began a more systematic exploration of his body. He started with one of Wesley's hands and worked his way slowly down, stroking, massaging, and always lingering over and spot that drew a reaction, memorizing it for future use.

 

Wesley's erection had diminished as a result of the tickling, but as Giles touched him it began to harden again. There were no sharp spikes of pleasure as there had been when Giles had penetrated him, but instead each touch added to the low buzz of pleasure that hummed through him. The places that Giles stroked and massaged felt sensitive afterwards, and any further touches to them felt more intense. But as the touching went on, the intensity began to be too much.

 

He had no outlet, with his hands bound, no way to tell Giles to stop, and he was afraid that even if he did, it wouldn't make a difference. He'd made his decision, he couldn't back out of it now. He balled his fists, trying to force himself to bear it.

 

As Giles finished mapping Wesley's upper body with his hand, he noticed that Wesley was starting to tense up. That wasn't what he wanted at all. "Wesley?" he said.

 

Wesley was so focused on holding back that at first he didn't realize Giles had stopped. His jaw was clenched tight, and he had to force it to relax before he could respond. "Yes?" he asked, voice tight.

 

"What's wrong? I thought you wanted me to touch you."

 

Wesley hesitated. "It's nothing. I'm fine," he insisted.

 

"Wesley," Giles said, with a hard edge to his voice. "You really don't want to lie to me."

 

Wesley swallowed. "I'm sorry. I thought... you said I didn't have a choice."

 

"You don't," Giles said. "But I don't want you tense right now. Why are you tense?"

 

"It's too much," Wesley admitted, the words bursting out in a rush. "I'm sorry, please don't be angry."

 

"I'm not angry," Giles assured him. "I need to know these things. I may choose to ignore them, as I did before, but if I'm to make you feel the way I want you to feel, I need to know what's going on in here." He tapped Wesley's forehead lightly.

 

"But... I'm not allowed," Wesley said. Now he felt foolish on top of everything else. He couldn't even limit himself correctly.

 

"Do you remember what I said about getting my attention? Believe me, I'll be more unhappy if you fail to inform me of something important than if you interrupt me. Which reminds me: if I ask you a question, I expect you to answer truthfully. Don't try to second guess me."

 

"I'm sorry," Wesley said again. He couldn't see Giles' face to tell how serious this was, but he was bracing himself for the worst. When he was young, any mistake would result in immediate punishment; the worst offenses had seen him dressed down, given the belt, and then locked under the stairs in order for him to reflect on his errors and thereby prevent any recurrences. Once he was taller than his father he'd stopped being cuffed for lesser errors. Eventually he'd been too old for anything but the dressing down, but the old threats still hung in the air.

 

But Giles wasn't his father. Wesley didn't know what his punishments would be, or what would trigger them, apart from breaking the rules. He hadn't forgotten that behind everything else was the simple truth that Giles could destroy his life with one phone call. He'd taken the risk that it was better to give himself over completely rather than wait for Giles to take him later, piece by piece. What if that had set up expectations he couldn't meet? What if he could only disappoint, and that just made things worse? He bit his lip, eyes welling with tears behind the blindfold.

 

Giles frowned. He could tell Wesley was scared, and not in a way that Giles liked. It was one thing to keep Wesley on edge; turning him into a gibbering wreck would spoil all the fun. He knew he'd have to proceed carefully if this evening was going to turn out the way he envisioned it.

 

He laid a hand against Wesley's cheek, assuming that it would be better not to leave Wesley completely isolated in his blindness. "You're eager to please," he observed. "That's good. Would you like to please me now, Wesley?"

 

Wesley nodded. It sounded like Giles was giving him another chance to prove himself, and he was desperate to do that. His present and future depended on his ability to keep Giles happy. As Giles said, he didn't have a choice, but he still wanted to be good for him, for its own sake. It was essential.

 

"Then tell me what I need to do to help you relax," Giles requested. It felt a bit unsporting, forcing Wesley to give him the very information Giles needed to manipulate him. But then, he reminded himself, it was impossible to break the rules when you were the one setting them.

 

Wesley was baffled. Why would Giles want to do that? Why would he even care? "Um," he said, at a loss for an answer.

 

"Come on, Wesley," Giles urged, keeping his voice soft, not threatening yet.

 

Wesley tried to figure out why it had all been too much. Giles had touched him before; it couldn't be that. The cuffs and blindfold were intimidating and new, taking away his ability to touch and see. With fewer senses, the ones left were that much sharper. Without sight, he had no way to anticipate what would happen next. But he had to admit that the worst part of it had been that he'd had no way to ask for Giles to stop. What was the point, if what he wanted didn't matter anyway? He took a deep breath, then let it out.

 

"I couldn't talk," Wesley said, finally. "With everything else... it was too much."

 

"What did you want to say?" Giles asked out of curiosity.

 

Telling this to Giles was difficult, not the least because he didn't know what his reaction would be. "If it was... if I liked it or... or not," he managed.

 

"Hmm," Giles said thoughtfully. "I think you should tell me that. I want to know how it makes you feel when I touch you."

 

"Should I... is this only for now, or..." Wesley trailed off, uncertain.

 

"You've permission to speak freely as long as you're bound like this," Giles said. "We'll deal with other situations on a case-by-case basis."

 

An unexpectedly large wave of relief went through Wesley. "Thank you," he said, grateful.

 

"Don't thank me yet," Giles said, almost laughing. "Now, I expect you to tell me everything. For instance--" He teased his fingertips lightly over Wesley's balls. "--how does this feel?"

 

Wesley's stomach tightened as the sensation registered. "Good," he breathed.

 

"And this?" Giles asked, pinching and pulling one of Wesley's nipples slightly.

 

Wesley let out a soft gasp. "Yes. Um, sharper," he said, trying to be more descriptive.

 

Giles made a thoughtful noise and increased the pressure, curious to see how much he could apply before Wesley complained.

 

When the pressure became too much, Wesley let out a whimper. "It hurts."

 

Giles persisted for a few more seconds, then let go. "We'll have to work on your pain tolerance," he mused. For the time being, though, he ran his hand back down to Wesley's balls and fondled them gently.

 

Wesley's nipple throbbed after Giles released it, but soon his attention was fixed on his balls. "That's nice," he said, relaxing a little.

 

"Good," Giles said. "Would you like more? Would you like me to touch your cock?"

 

"Please," Wesley asked, hopeful.

 

Giles obliged, stroking and squeezing Wesley's cock with expert touches while his other hand continued to work Wesley's balls. Wesley's fear had stopped his arousal, but as Giles stroked and touched it began to return. Slowly he relaxed further, his cock filling with blood and his body warming. Giles continued to stimulate Wesley, encouraging his moans and eager writhing with murmurs of approval. Before very long, Wesley was thrusting up into his hand shamelessly.

 

Wesley didn't hold back the noises that Giles coaxed out of him. He hadn't realized how much he'd needed to speak, to have some channel open between them. But then, Giles had already shown him a great number of things about himself he hadn't known before. Even if he could be frightening and intimidating at times, Wesley was in awe of his confidence and experience.

 

Giles monitored Wesley's responses carefully, watching for signs that he was close to coming. When it seemed he might be, Giles would ease off the stimulation for a few minutes, then increase it again when it seemed safe to do so. He was becoming intensely aroused, himself, reveling in Wesley's utter helplessness before him.

 

Wesley wallowed in the pleasure Giles was giving him. His arousal peaked and fell in step with the strength of the stimulation. At first it felt too good, and he was too grateful for it, to care about coming yet. But slowly an edge of frustration began to creep in, increasing each time he was denied climax. He let out a groan, expressing his need.

 

Giles smiled at the evidence of Wesley's frustration, and the next time he pushed Wesley a little bit closer to orgasm before backing off.

 

When Giles slowed down again, Wesley thrust his hips off the bed, and then again, seeking more.

 

Giles had to reassign one hand to hold Wesley's hips down on the bed. He wanted fine control now, so that he could take Wesley right to the edge without pushing him over.

 

Wesley groaned again, hips pinned along with the rest of him. He pressed his head back against the bed, and his muscles tensed as Giles brought him close to arousal, only to deny him again. "Please," he moaned, clenching his fists.

 

"That's it," Giles practically purred. "I love the way you beg."

 

A shimmer of pleasure penetrated his frustrated arousal. "Please," he begged again, louder this time. "Please, sir, let me come."

 

Giles licked his lips, his breathing becoming heavier with arousal. He stared down at Wesley, enthralled by his wantonness. "Beautiful."

 

The compliment produced another shimmer of pleasure. Wesley wanted more of them almost more than he wanted to come. As Giles pushed him close again, he let his need out. "More," he begged. "Please, more."

 

Giles almost groaned aloud. "Be specific," he instructed.

 

"Harder, sir," Wesley breathed. "Please. It feels so good."

 

"Keep going," Giles groaned. Every word Wesley spoke was ratcheting up his arousal.

 

Wesley remembered the spikes of arousal he'd felt last time. "I wish you would... put your fingers inside me," he said, panting as Giles' grip tightened.

 

"I will. I will," Giles promised, voice thick with arousal. "But not tonight."

 

"It was like nothing I've felt before," Wesley continued. "What you did to me, I... I loved it. Please, sir," he said, wanting the feeling again.

 

Giles closed his eyes for a moment while another surge of arousal ran through him. He needed to fuck something. He was going to go mad if his cock didn't get stimulation soon.

 

He reached over to the box on the nightstand and extracted a simple leather cock ring. "Not tonight," he repeated, and quickly fastened it around the base of Wesley's cock and balls.

 

Wesley cried out in alarm as something tightened around his genitals. "What...?"

 

"Shh," Giles soothed. "This will keep you hard for me."

 

The throbbing in his cock was taking on a sharper edge, and his balls felt hot. He didn't know what Giles had done to him. "What is it?" he asked, afraid.

 

"It's a cock ring," Giles explained. While spoke, he stood and began removing his trousers. "It makes you harder and keeps you from coming."

 

All of Wesley attention was caught by the new sensations the ring was causing. Even though Giles had stopped touching him, his arousal wasn't lessening at all. If anything, his erection was harder, but he felt no closer to the climax he was straining for. He gave a whimper of frustration.

 

Naked from the waist down, Giles climbed back on the bed and knelt above Wesley's head. He caressed Wesley's face and spoke softly. "Wesley, I want you to pleasure me now. I want you to use your mouth on me. Will you do that?"

 

Wesley stilled at Giles' hand on his cheek. "Yes, but..." he said, suddenly anxious. "I've never... that is..."

 

"It's all right," Giles said, still touching his face gently. "I'll make it easy for you. I'll tell you what to do."

 

Wesley relaxed somewhat at that. "Thank you, sir," he said, knowing Giles didn't have to be kind about his inexperience.

 

"You're welcome," Giles said, smiling fondly. Wesley really was incredibly eager to please, which was the only reason he was willing to trust the younger man with his cock in his mouth.

 

He went down on all fours, inverting himself above Wesley. He could easily have taken Wesley's cock in his mouth, but that was one pleasure he didn't intend to share with the younger man for a very long time, if ever. As he lowered his groin over Wesley's head, he gave in to a sudden impulse and rubbed his cock and balls against Wesley's face in an act of sheer, animalistic domination. An unanticipated but fortunate side effect was that the scratch of Wesley's stubble pulled him back from the precipice of orgasm.

 

The sudden press against Wesley's face startled him, and he jerked his face to the side in a gasp, afraid of being smothered. It took him a moment to realize that Giles was rubbing his genitals against his face, and he stilled again.

 

Giles stilled before too long, the pain of the stubble overcoming his delight in the act. He repositioned himself more carefully, so that his balls hung over Wesley's mouth, just brushing his lips. "Open your mouth," he instructed.

 

Wesley felt the brush of soft, short hairs on his mouth. He parted his lips, haltingly and then wider.

 

Giles pushed down until he felt his balls slide past the barrier of Wesley's teeth. He was careful not to bear down so much that he suffocated the other man, though his mouth was probably uncomfortably full. "Now use your tongue," he said breathily, the sensations already beginning to affect him.

 

Wesley felt a moment's panic as Giles filled his mouth. He breathed through his nose and widened as much as he could, accommodating the fullness. At Giles' instruction, he started to lick tentatively at the heated flesh. The hairs tickled his tongue, so he pressed harder with it, to dull the sensation.

 

Giles let out a series of increasingly loud groans. His legs trembled with the effort of holding himself still while Wesley's tongue gave him such incredible pleasure.

 

From the noises Giles was making, Wesley felt it safe to assume he was doing this correctly. He let his tongue wander all over, covering every inch of Giles' balls with hard licks. Saliva had built up in his mouth, so he sealed his lips around them, keeping his jaw open so as not to bite, and swallowed.

 

"Christ!" Giles couldn't remember the last time he'd felt anything so good. He eased himself back up, pulling his balls carefully from Wesley's mouth, because he knew he would come soon if he didn't stop.

 

He sat back on his heels for a minute, wanting to give them both a chance to recover before he moved on to putting his cock in Wesley's mouth. Since Wesley had seemed to respond to it before, Giles brushed his cheek with his fingertips. "Very good, Wesley," he praised. "You're doing fine."

 

When Giles had pulled out, at first Wesley had thought he'd done something wrong after all. His stomach fluttered nervously, and when he felt Giles' hand on his cheek, he froze. But it was a gentle touch, and when praise came with it Wesley relaxed again. He realized that he was still rock hard, and that Giles had been right about the cock ring. It was as if Giles had truly taken control of his body away from him, that he could master even that reaction, and it made Wesley shiver.

 

Once he felt he had himself under control, Giles tilted Wesley's head back to try to arrange a better angle of penetration.

 

"This is probably going to be a bit more uncomfortable," he warned, "but I'll do all the work. Try to relax, and focus on breathing."

 

The nervous flutter came back with a vengeance, but Wesley tried to ignore it. He held his head in its new position and waited, anticipating.

 

Giles bent forward again and nudged the head of his cock against Wesley's lips until Wesley opened his mouth wide enough for Giles to penetrate. He pushed his cock in until it gently bumped the back of Wesley's throat, then immediately withdrew, not wanting to trigger Wesley's gag reflex.

 

Wesley's breathing was fast and shallow as Giles' cock slid into his mouth for the first time. His jaw ached slightly from having to hold it open, but that was a minor matter compared to the way the hard, hot flesh filled him. He whimpered faintly.

 

Giles moaned with relief as he began to fuck Wesley's mouth shallowly. He wasn't going to last very long, which was probably just as well given Wesley's lack of experience.

 

Wesley concentrated on keeping his teeth and tongue out of the way as Giles' cock moved in and out of his mouth. He didn't really know what to do apart from that.

 

It was a matter of minutes before Giles' careful, shallow thrusts got faster and harder, then lost their rhythm all together. Wesley's mouth felt, if anything, more wonderful on his cock than it had on his balls. Losing control, he pressed his cock to the back of Wesley's throat and shouted his release as a powerful orgasm overcame him.

 

Giles' cock went deep into Wesley's mouth. He gagged, then choked violently as come flooded his throat.

 

It wasn't until his orgasm began to fade that Giles realized the lovely convulsions Wesley's throat and tongue were making were due to the fact that Wesley was choking. Giles sat up abruptly, pulling his cock from Wesley's mouth. Wesley immediately began to cough violently.

 

Come got into Wesley's nose and mouth as he coughed. As his throat cleared he started to calm down, but the salty, mucousy taste made him spit out what he could. His nasal passages burned and his throat felt sore. He let his head fall back against the bed.

 

"Oh, God," Giles said. For the first time he felt real guilt at something he'd done to Wesley. He'd never meant for this to happen; he'd assumed Wesley would be able to swallow his come. He needed to untie Wesley and he needed to get him some water, but he was paralyzed for a moment, unsure which to do first. After a beat, he quickly untied Wesley's wrists from the bed and helped him sit up, then let Wesley lean against him, rubbing his back with one hand to soothe him. He was on the verge of saying, "I'm sorry," but couldn't quite get the words out.

 

Wesley gave a few more weak coughs as his upright position caused new irritation to his throat. He leaned weakly against Giles, trying to catch his breath. The soothing motions Giles made helped, and slowly he felt himself recover. "Sorry," he croaked. "Didn't expect--" He coughed again.

 

"It's all right," Giles said. "I didn't think to warn you." He rubbed Wesley's back for a few more moments, then said, "I'll get you some water."

 

He got up and put his shorts back on, then dashed down stairs to run Wesley some water in the kitchen. He took some paper towels back with him, as well, since Wesley had managed to make a mess of himself with his coughing.

 

Wesley sat and waited. He felt the cuffs on his wrists, trying to get a feel for them, then slid down the bed enough to give his knees slack to bend. He reached up to remove the blindfold, but stopped himself in time. His cock still throbbed, demanding attention, but he knew better than to try anything there. He rubbed his nose, trying to stop the burning sensation.

 

Giles returned to the bed and wiped Wesley's face and chest clean, then pressed the glass of water into his hand. Wesley took small sips to calm his throat, then a large one to rinse out his mouth. When he was finished he held the glass out for Giles to take. Giles put it on the nightstand. He freed Wesley's ankles, though he left the cuffs on, and helped Wesley to lie on his side.

 

"I'm going to go wash up," he said. He touched the cock ring lightly. "Would you rather I took this off or left it on?"

 

"We're finished?" Wesley asked, confused.

 

"For now," Giles said.

 

"But..." Wesley began. He was still achingly hard. He couldn't believe Giles was stopping. He couldn't touch himself, which meant he wasn't going to be able to come at all. It wasn't fair, he wanted to say, but then he assumed that was the whole point. He didn't know why he kept forgetting that. "It doesn't matter," Wesley answered, disappointed. He assumed that Giles would do whatever he wanted to anyway.

 

Giles looked down at Wesley consideringly and decided he would leave it on for now. Now that Wesley was recovering from the choking episode, Giles could once again admire what an erotic sight he was, naked, blindfolded, and cuffed, with his cock still stubbornly erect despite the ordeal. "Very well," he said. "I'll leave it on. Can you control yourself, or shall I restrain you again?"

 

"Whatever you like," Wesley said. The pointed reminder of his place here had left him with little interest in what Giles decided to do with him for the rest of the night. The illusion of choice was no choice at all.

 

Giles sighed, and considered demanding that Wesley choose, but in the end he tied Wesley's wrists to the headboard and went downstairs to wash up. There were still a few hours before bedtime, and he wasn't sure yet how he was going to spend them.

 

Wesley lay where he was put--not that he could move anyway. He didn't feel as bad as he had that first night, even though Giles had let him come then. Now that he'd surrendered himself, Giles didn't have to use as much force, he assumed. He could bend Wesley as he liked.

 

Eventually his erection began to subside, despite the cock ring. As it did, however, another physical need made itself known. He had to use the bathroom. He tried to hold it, but soon it was almost unbearable. "Giles?" he called out, hesitantly.

 

"Yes?" Giles responded. He had settled into his chair to read for a while, and was startled when Wesley spoke.

 

"I... have to go," Wesley said, extremely embarrassed.

 

"Go...?" Giles began, then realized belated what Wesley meant. He went upstairs and removed both blindfold and cock ring, then helped Wesley up and sent him downstairs with orders to sit by Giles' chair when he finished.

 

Wesley hurried to the bathroom, desperate to pee. The toilet seat was already up, so he grabbed his cock and let go, sighing in relief. Belatedly he recalled that Giles had wanted him to refrain from touching his cock even for this, but he'd been in too much of a hurry to try to work out the logistics this time. He made a note to himself to work out a way to follow Giles' orders without making a mess; if he had to, he would sit down from now on. He felt another shiver as the stream finished, feeling another sliver of independence curl and fall away. It wasn't an entirely bad feeling.

 


 

PART FIVE: Lesson

 

Wesley washed his hands, then went out to Giles' chair. He kneeled in front of it and placed his hands behind his back.

 

"Come closer, Wesley," Giles said with mild irritation. "It should go without saying that I want you close enough to touch."

 

Wesley bowed his head in silent apology and shuffled forwards.

 

When Wesley came within reach, Giles grasped his chin and tilted his head back, forcing him to look up. Giles looked into his eyes for a few moments, then said, "How do you feel? Do you still like being mine?"

 

It took Wesley longer to respond to the question this time, but in the end he nodded. Giles had given him some pleasure, even if he'd been denied climax. And it wasn't as if he hadn't been warned. It was his own fault if he couldn't remember his place enough to stop his expectations from growing out of hand.

 

"Why did you hesitate?" Giles asked, frowning.

 

Wesley gave him a look of wary confusion. Surely Giles knew already. "You stopped," he said, as if it was obvious.

 

"I stopped what?" Giles asked. He'd expected Wesley to complain about his coming in his mouth, so he was a bit confused.

 

Wesley raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Touching me."

 

"Ah." Giles smiled in enlightenment. He reached down and began stroking Wesley's cock back to hardness. "You're under the impression that you're here for sexual gratification, is that it?"

 

"For yours," Wesley said. It was the truth, after all. "But I thought perhaps..." The way Giles was touching him made it hard to think, and he shook his head to clear it. "I'd hoped you would. Like before. When you finished."

 

Giles hummed thoughtfully. "I will. When it pleases me to do so. But you'd best rid yourself of any expectations."

 

Wesley nodded. "I'm sorry, sir."

 

Giles nodded in acceptance of the apology. "I trust it's understood that coming without my permission would be a very bad idea?"

 

"Yes, sir," Wesley said. His erection was growing again, but this time he knew in advance that he wasn't going to be having any relief for it. The frustration that made him feel was mixed with arousal at the idea that Giles wanted him to stay aroused, rather than that he was simply neglecting him.

 

"Good," Giles said. He picked up his book with one hand and resumed his reading, while his other hand continued to play idly with Wesley's cock and balls.

 

Now that he understood his purpose better, Wesley didn't push himself towards orgasm as he had before. Instead he let himself drift on the arousal caused by Giles' moderate stimulation. It felt good, and after a while the hum of pleasure started to spread through his body. It wasn't so bad, when he didn't struggle.

 

Giles read for nearly an hour, then decided it was time for bed. He gave Wesley a parting tap on the head of his cock. "Good boy. I think you're getting the idea now."

 

Giles' voice startled Wesley out of the erotic trance he'd slipped into. He was lightly sheened with perspiration when he straightened up, and looked up at Giles with lidded eyes.

 

Giles stood up. "Time for bed," he said. "Go on upstairs. I'll be there in a minute."

 

Wesley nodded and stood, legs wobbly from so long in the same position, and from the stimulation. He went upstairs and sat on the edge of the bed, still feeling very aroused.

 

Giles quickly brushed his teeth, then went upstairs to join Wesley. He approached Wesley rather than lying down on the bed immediately. He hooked the cuffs Wesley was still wearing with his fingers and lifted Wesley's wrists. "Do you like wearing these?" he asked. "Do you like being bound by me?"

 

The sensation of Giles holding him that way made him have to pause to catch his breath, but he replied quickly, not wanting there to be any doubt about his response. "I do, sir. Very much."

 

Giles nodded. "Lie down."

 

When Wesley complied, Giles snapped his wrist cuffs together and bound them to the headboard as they had been earlier, leaving plenty of slack, then bound his ankles to the foot of the bed in the same way. The result left Wesley plenty of room to move around, but not quite enough that he would ever be able to reach his cock.

 

Each snap and tug of his restraints sent another jolt of arousal through Wesley's body. When Giles finished, Wesley couldn't help but to writhe against his bonds, just to feel how strongly he was held down. His cock stood into the air, untouched.

 

Satisfied that Wesley was sufficiently restrained, Giles pulled the covers back up on the bed. He started to undress, then stopped. He was reluctant to let Wesley see him naked, and not just because of the power implicit in keeping Wesley naked while he was still fully clothed. It was that he hadn't been naked with anyone since Angelus, and was reluctant to show off his scars. He hesitated a moment longer, then blindfolded Wesley again. He could worry about the issue in the morning.

 

Once that was settled, he stripped and climbed into bed behind Wesley, spooning against him. He draped one arm around the younger man and grasped his still-erect cock, then let his head sink into the pillow, prepared to go to sleep.

 

Being held and bound by Giles in so many ways made Wesley so hard he almost did come, just by the final addition of Giles hand around his cock. But it only brought him close to the edge; to fall over it, he would have had to stimulate himself, and that wasn't allowed. He lay still, waiting for his arousal to fade so he could have some relief and sleep. But he couldn't, not with the heat of Giles against his back, and his soft cock nestled against his arse. His grip around Wesley's erection was firm even in sleep, so sure he was of his possession of Wesley. And the restraints and blindfold meant he had no way to pull away even if he wanted to, and nothing to distract himself with. All of it left him awake and aroused for what seemed like an eternity. He was still hard when he fell asleep.

 

Giles awoke to a bright ray of sun streaming across the bed. His cock was already hard, pressed against Wesley's arse. He was tempted to go ahead and fuck Wesley, but the knowledge that Wesley enjoyed it so much held him back. Better to make him wait for it, make him crave Giles' cock so badly he'd do anything to be fucked.

 

Instead, he adjusted his erection so that it nestled between Wesley's legs, the head of his cock pressing against Wesley's scrotum. Wesley was still asleep, but Giles started to make quick, shallow thrusts.

 

The first thing Wesley was aware of, as he surfaced from sleep, was heat and pleasure. The heat was all along his back and between his legs, and the pleasure came from the heat, where it pushed against him. He pushed back, tightening his thighs to increase the feeling.

 

Giles hummed with pleasure as Wesley tightened his thighs around his cock. As Wesley became more alert, he rolled him over onto his stomach, taking advantage of the better position to thrust harder.

 

Normally, when Wesley awoke, there was a brief period of confusion as he got his bearings. But not this morning. He knew exactly where he was and who was on top of him, thrusting deliciously against his balls. The blindfold and cuffs left him in no position to do anything but let Giles do as he wished, and Wesley loved it. His cock was already hardening against the bed. He didn't even remember if he'd stopped being aroused last night.

 

Giles thrust faster and faster, until he came with a deep groan, his semen spilling down Wesley's perineum and over his scrotum.

 

Wesley moaned as he felt a warm wetness spill over him. He thrust against the bed, not really awake enough to stop himself.

 

Giles lay on top of Wesley until his energy returned, the rolled off. He looked off the edge of the bed at his shorts, then decided to hell with it. Wesley was going to have to see him naked eventually. Might as well get it over with.

 

He freed Wesley's wrists and ankles, taking the cuffs off finally, since they were going to have to shower, and pulled the blindfold off.

 

Wesley blinked and shut his eyes, unprepared for the brightness of the morning. He blinked again, letting his eyes adjust. He saw Giles, naked, and his cock twitched eagerly. His eyes scanned up and down as he took his first look, trying to memorize Giles' body in case he wouldn't be allowed to see it again. He was handsomely built, with a strong body with some softness to it, and crisp, light brown hairs on his arms, chest, and legs. Wesley noticed an array of faint scars, but his eyes were caught by the darker hairs that trailed down to his cock and balls, which hung limp but beautiful between his legs.

 

Giles got off the bed abruptly, uncomfortable with Wesley's scrutiny. "Go and start the shower running," he instructed. "I like it hot."

 

While Wesley obeyed, Giles went into the kitchen and made a few preparations for breakfast, so that they could eat quickly once they'd cleaned off. There was a lot he wanted to do today.

 

Once the shower was ready, Wesley kneeled on the bathroom rug and put his hands behind his back. He felt a small buzz of pleasure every time he followed Giles instructions to the letter, and he felt it best never to assume any extra steps.

 

Giles smiled when he came into the bathroom to find Wesley kneeling. "Good boy," he murmured, ruffling Wesley's hair with his fingers. "Now you can get in."

 

Wesley smiled with pleasure and went into the shower.

 

Giles followed Wesley. He washed himself quickly while Wesley waited patiently at the end of the tub, then turned and pulled Wesley into the spray and began to bathe him sensually.

 

Wesley's erection had grown further as he'd watched Giles shower, and now as Giles began to rub soap on chest, it was fully hard. If Giles touched his cock, he wouldn't last very long.

 

Only once Giles had washed every other part of Wesley's body did he bring the rough flannel to Wesley's groin and begin to gently scrub his balls.

 

Wesley moaned. He rested his hands lightly on Giles' arms to stabilize himself, as his knees felt weak with pleasure.

 

Giles took his time on Wesley's cock and balls, enjoying the whimpers of frustration he got in response, then slid the flannel between Wesley's buttocks and cleaned around his arsehole. Once that was done, he washed the cloth out thoroughly and put it aside and turned to one last task. Pulling Wesley's foreskin out over the head of his cock, he worked his fingers around inside, cleaning carefully.

 

As his fingers brushed the head of Wesley's cock, Wesley's hips began to make tiny, arrhythmic jerks and he realized Wesley was about to come. He let go immediately and pinched Wesley's frenulum hard in warning.

 

Wesley cried out at the sudden sharp pain in his cock, which was that much worse when he was on the verge of climax. He clenched his teeth and waited for both the pain and the frustration to subside. Clearly Giles didn't want him to come yet.

 

"Wesley," Giles said. "Did I give you permission to come?"

 

"No, sir," Wesley said, still wincing. "But..."

 

"Then why did I have to stop you?" Giles' tone was sliding quickly into anger.

 

"I thought you wanted me to," Wesley said, hurriedly.

 

"Did you hear me give you permission?" Giles demanded.

 

"No, sir. I'm sorry, sir," Wesley said, cringing. He really hadn't known that there was a distinction between Giles making him come and directly telling him to come.

 

"Good," Giles snapped. "In the future, you warn me if you're that close. You're lucky I'm in a charitable mood this morning. I could have let you go on."

 

"I will," Wesley said, almost blurting out the words in panic. He backed against the edge of the tub. "I'm sorry, please, I didn't realize. I'm sorry."

 

Giles sighed. "All right. I believe you didn't mean to anger me." He extended a hand to Wesley to call him back.

 

Wesley sniffed and edged warily back to Giles. He didn't believe that Giles had forgiven him. It was a trick to lull him into letting his guard down, and he was going to be punished. He tensed up, unable to bear the wait.

 

"Now what?" Giles said, raising his eyebrows at Wesley.

 

This was it. Wesley knew it. But Giles had been angry with him before for not answering honestly. "What are you going to do?" he asked, hesitantly.

 

"Do?" Giles was confused. "I'm going to get dressed and eat breakfast."

 

Confusion was starting to encroach on the fear that was keeping Wesley tensed. "Aren't you going to punish me?"

 

"No," Giles said slowly. "If I'd felt the need to punish you, I would have let you come. I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt this time. You're still learning."

 

"Oh," Wesley said. He felt vaguely disappointed that Giles didn't even have enough faith in his ability to follow orders to punish him when he deserved it. But he was relieved as well, because he would have done better if he'd known more. Then he felt guilty for relying on such a poor excuse, one his father would never have accepted. There was no excuse for ignorance. There was never any excuse that was acceptable for failure. Wesley sank to his knees and put his hands behind his back, then bowed his head. "There's no excuse for failure," he said.

 

"Wesley, stand up," Giles said, his tone softening.

 

Wesley stood, but kept his head down. He wasn't tense anymore, just accepting of his fate.

 

Giles turned the shower off, since they were done in any case. "Will you feel better if I punish you?" he asked.

 

"I deserve it," Wesley said. "I should always be punished for my mistakes."

 

Giles' demeanor changed, his back straightening and a haughty look coming over his face. "Since when are you allowed to decide what you deserve?" he asked.

 

"I'm not," Wesley said, simply. "My father is."

 

"Who is?" Giles snapped.

 

Wesley suddenly snapped out of the strange state he'd been in and realized what he'd said. "I-I-I mean, you are, sir, sorry sir." Oh god, he thought. He'd really done it now.

 

"Remember that," Giles said, his tone hard. He grasped Wesley's chin firmly. "You're mine now. No one besides me is allowed to decide what you deserve. Anyone who wants to get to you will have to go through me. And that includes your father."

 

Now Wesley was even more confused. His father was a powerful man in the Council, not to mention his political connections. It was only through his influence that Wesley had even been assigned as Active Watcher in the first place. He couldn't imagine anyone standing up to Roger Wyndam-Pryce, least of all for Wesley's sake.

 

Giles took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You're mine, Wesley. I want you to say it. I want you to get on your knees and say it."

 

Wesley went to his knees, bewildered. "I'm yours," he said, half-questioning.

 

"You don't mean that. Say it again."

 

Wesley wanted to believe it. It just seemed impossible that he could ever be free of his father's control. "I'm yours," he repeated, trying to put some strength into it.

 

"Again," Giles snapped.

 

"I'm yours," Wesley said, clearly.

 

"Again," Giles said, his tone becoming milder as Wesley's got stronger.

 

This time Wesley was able to meet Giles' eyes when he said it. "I'm yours, sir."

 

Giles met Wesley's gaze evenly. "Say it again."

 

"I'm yours, sir," Wesley said, firmly this time.

 

Giles nodded approvingly. He threaded his fingers through Wesley's wet hair, petting him lightly. "Again."

 

"I'm yours, sir." He leaned into Giles' hand, needing his touch.

 

Giles smiled at him approvingly. "Yes. Say it again."

 

"Yours," Wesley said, feeling that shiver of belonging again. "I'm yours, sir. I'm yours."

 

"Keep going," Giles urged. He curved one hand against Wesley's face and neck, still petting his hair with the other.

 

Wesley leaned gratefully into Giles' hands. This was what he needed, and somehow Giles had known. "I'm yours, sir," he repeated, the words slipping into a mantra as he said them again and again. "I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm all yours."

 

"Good, that's good. Go on." He continued murmuring encouragement as Wesley repeated the words again and again. Moving forward, he let Wesley press his cheek against his stomach, his hands roving soothingly over Wesley's head and the exposed side of his face. "Yes. That's right. Don't stop."

 

It felt incredibly good to have Giles against him, soothing away everything else so that the only thing on his mind was that he belonged to Giles, that Giles would protect him, that Giles knew what was best for him. "I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours..." He kept saying the words even as his throat became sore from speaking.

 

Eventually Wesley started to be hoarse. "All right," Giles whispered, "That's enough. Shh..." He let his hands go still, as though that would guide Wesley's voice to do the same.

 

Wesley quieted, but the words kept running through his mind. He felt a curious peacefulness come over him.

 

They stood there quietly for several more minutes, Wesley's face pressed to Giles' stomach, neither of them moving. Giles only let go of Wesley's head when Wesley made a small restless motion, probably because he'd been kneeling on the porcelain too long.

 

When Wesley looked up at Giles again, it was as if the words had had a physical effect. Giles was looking down at him kindly, and in return Wesley gazed up adoringly.

 

"Come on," Giles said, leaning down to kiss Wesley's forehead tenderly. "Let's have breakfast."

 

"Yes, sir," Wesley said. He stood and followed Giles out of the shower. He felt strangely light and untroubled.

 


 

PART SIX: Dismantling

 

Giles went upstairs for clean shorts and a t-shirt, then came back down and quickly put breakfast together. He sat on the sofa and gestured for Wesley to come kneel at his feet.

 

Wesley rested at Giles' feet and settled his hands behind his back. He realized he was faintly aroused, and knew it was because he was being a good boy for Giles.

 

Giles ate a piece of toast and offered his buttery fingers to Wesley to lick clean, then held out a piece of toast for Wesley to eat, and again let him lick his fingers clean.

 

"Thirsty?" he asked, and when Wesley nodded, he cupped a hand behind Wesley's head to help him drink a glass of orange juice. He knew it would have been easier to let Wesley hold the glass himself, but Giles found that he delighted in the act of feeding him.

 

It wasn't only the intimacy of the act that made Wesley enjoy being fed. It was the feeling that he was being cared for, doted on, even. It was so rare that he ever felt anything like this. It was another reason to be grateful to Giles.

 

Even with Giles taking the time to feed Wesley, they finished breakfast in short order. Giles left Wesley by the sofa while he washed the dishes, then went upstairs to get dressed. When he came back down, he was carrying a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt for Wesley.

 

"I'm afraid they'll be a little big on you," he said, holding them out, "but I'm not going to let you back into that ridiculous suit."

 

Wesley had certainly never thought his suit was ridiculous, but it wasn't his place to disagree. He took the clothes and put them on. They must be going out for something, he realized.

 

"How much do you have to move?" Giles asked when Wesley was dressed. "Will it fit in my car, or will we need to collect yours first?"

 

"Yours should be fine," Wesley said, thinking. He'd fit all his things in the rental car on the way here from the airport. The Citroen had enough room for his luggage.

 

"All right." Giles nodded towards the door. "Let's go."

 

They drove to the hotel where Wesley had been staying. Wesley would be glad to see the back of it. He gave Giles his room key and followed him inside. They quickly took all Wesley's things out to the car. It was a little crowded, but overall, Giles was surprised by how little Wesley had with him. Check out was quickly accomplished, and they headed off.

 

"Have you got any clothes besides those damnable suits with you?" he asked on the way home.

 

"Not really," Wesley shrugged. His father had ordered them for him, paid for them and the fittings they required. The concept of casual wear didn't fit into the Wyndam-Pryce image.

 

"Hmm," was all Giles said.

 

They arrived back at the apartment had Wesley's things inside in short order. Wesley obediently stripped and knelt in an out-of-the way corner while Giles went through everything quickly, only occasionally asking Wesley for advice or assistance. Wesley's important documents went into the closet in a box, his books went on a mostly-empty bookshelf, and other than a few toiletries and items that Wesley identified as having sentimental value, everything else went into a garbage bag, until only his clothes remained in a heap on the floor.

 

Wesley's underpants immediately went into the garbage bag as well. Most of the miscellaneous items like socks and braces were allowed to remain, and of the rest, only three suits, a pair of jeans, and a few button-up shirts were deemed acceptable.

 

Each time Giles chose to throw out another of his things, Wesley felt another piece of his old life float away. It made the day feel even more strange, but it also felt like he was being released from something. Giles was stripping him down to the barest essentials, and Wesley didn't even know if there would be anything left when he was done.

 

After the clothes were all either thrown away or put away, the only things that remained were Wesley's wallet and checkbook. Giles took them to his desk. He flipped through Wesley's checkbook, looking at the neatly-filled rows of transactions.

 

"What's the Council paying you?" Giles asked.

 

Wesley's brow furrowed in concentration. His previous position had been full-time researcher and translator, and his qualifications had given him a respectable salary the moment he graduated from the Academy. He knew there was a significant increase in salary for an Active Watcher, mostly in terms of danger pay. Life expectancy did tend to drop significantly for Watchers in the field, so the Council was more generous there. "Um, I think... 65,000 pounds a year?"

 

Giles snorted. "More than they were paying me. In any case, as I'm doing your job for you, I think your salary is rightfully mine. Don't you?"

 

Giles had already managed to take over the job Wesley had been groomed for since birth. He'd taken away everything Wesley had here, made it impossible for him to leave, and turned him into some sort of sexual slave. It was hardly surprising that he wanted Wesley's money as well. "Yes, sir," Wesley said, reluctantly.

 

Giles nodded curtly and locked the checkbook in his desk. "I'll let you know when you need to sign for something," he said.

 

Next Giles rifled through Wesley's wallet. Wesley's credit and bank cards went into Giles' own wallet. Anything else of importance went into the desk, leaving Wesley with only his essential bits of identification and a few pieces of miscellany, mostly things that would only have been useful in England.

 

Wesley watched silently as Giles effectively locked him out of his financial accounts. He swallowed, some fear creeping back in. Giles was truly leaving him with no way to survive away from him. Wesley wouldn't have the funds to escape even if he wanted to. Even if he could.

 

Finally satisfied that all Wesley's things had been dealt with, Giles stood up and got them each a glass of water, then gave Wesley his jeans and a button-up shirt to wear.

 

"We still need to turn your car in," he explained. "It's not as though you're going to be needing it."

 

"No," Wesley agreed, faintly. "Not anymore." He started to dress, feeling rather dazed.

 

"I'll drive you to the school to pick it up, then meet you at the rental agency to bring you home," Giles said. "All right?" He brushed a hand through Wesley's hair as Wesley finished dressing.

 

Wesley nodded. "I can do that," he said, reassuring himself as much as Giles. It had only been a day since Giles had taken him in, after all, even if it felt like much longer.

 

"Good." Giles kissed Wesley's temple before he turned to lead he way out to the car. He double-checked that Wesley had his wallet and his car key before they took off.

 

When they reached the school parking lot, Giles let him out. Wesley stood in front of his car door, feeling like it was an artifact of some other lifetime. Some other person's lifetime. Everything felt a little distant as he unlocked the car and sat inside of it. There were some papers and books he'd left behind, and a travel coffee mug he remembered picking up at the airport. He started the car and drove to the rental agency, concentrating all his attention on driving because to think of anything else would probably end with him upside-down in a ditch.

 

Giles followed along and waited in the car while Wesley turned his keys in.

 

Wesley carried the few belongings back with him. He handed them to Giles when he got into his car. Everything still seemed a little too far away, like it was happening to someone else and the information was being relayed to him.

 

Giles had intended to take Wesley out to buy a new wardrobe, but he noticed that the younger man was looking rather dazed. Understandable, since Giles had effectively hijacked his life.

 

"Wesley? Are you all right?" he asked.

 

"I don't know," Wesley said, slowly. "I don't think I can tell anymore."

 

Giles nodded. "Would you like some lunch?"

 

Wesley didn't even know if he felt hungry or not. "If you like," he said.

 

Giles nodded again, put the car in gear and headed home. He'd have to wait until Wesley recovered from whatever funk he was in to go shopping.

 

Giles didn't say anything to Wesley on the drive home, so Wesley didn't say anything back. For some reason he felt vaguely carsick, so he rolled down a window and closed his eyes. It was just as well, since he couldn't seem to focus on anything properly.

 

Wesley was looking rather ill by the time they got home. When Giles parked the car, Wesley didn't get out immediately, or even unbuckle his seatbelt. Giles went around to the passenger side and helped him out, then let Wesley lean on him to stumble down the steps. Once inside, he made Wesley lie down on the sofa.

 

Even though Wesley was lying down, the world kept spinning around his head. There was a sour taste at the back of his throat, and for a moment he thought he might have to throw up, but thankfully the urge faded.

 

Giles got a glass of water and a damp cloth. He was beginning to realize that somehow he'd pushed Wesley too far, though the other man had seemed fine at breakfast. After getting Wesley to drink a little, he unbuttoned Wesley's shirt and dampened his chest, hoping the cooling effect of the water would help.

 

Wesley started to feel a little better. The world stopped spinning quite so emphatically, and he began to feel like he had immediate connection to his senses again. "Sorry," he murmured, realizing that Giles probably hadn't intended to spend his Saturday looking after him.

 

Giles brushed his fingers through Wesley's hair. "It's all right. Not your fault."

 

He'd let himself get so high on his power trip he'd neglected to think of the effect he might be having on Wesley. He wanted Wesley subservient, not so beaten down that he couldn't function any more. He'd have to be more careful.

 

Giles helped Wesley drink some more water, and kept touching him gently, trying to reassure him. Being touched seemed to ground Wesley again, and the water helped settle his stomach. When Giles gently cupped his cheek, he managed to raise his own hand to hold Giles' there. He took some deep breaths before letting go. "Giles?" he asked.

 

"Yes?" Giles said.

 

"I think I might be able to sit up now," Wesley said.

 

"Do you want to sit up?" Giles asked.

 

Wesley nodded, and Giles helped him upright. The world tilted dangerously for a moment, and Wesley swayed again, but Giles held him steady. When the tilting stopped, Wesley leaned forward, forcing himself to take slow, deep breaths. He recalled feeling like this once before, on the day his father had dropped him off at the Academy for the first time. He'd gone through the day, seeing all the new people and his new room and roommate and new books and clothes, and when it had come time to attend dinner he had fainted right in front of his new headmaster. It hadn't been his finest hour, and he wasn't feeling much better about this one.

 

"Do you think you can make it upstairs?" Giles asked. "We could lie down for a nap."

 

Wesley nodded, and Giles helped him up. That made him dizzy again, so he had to concentrate to make it up the stairs. Giles sat him down on the bed and helped him out of his clothes.

 

Giles lay down with Wesley and pulled the younger man into his arms, touching him soothingly and humming under his breath. Wesley slowly calmed, and lying flat helped his head settle down. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep.

 

Giles lay awake, watching Wesley sleep. The voice that told him he was doing something horribly wrong was still there in the back of his head, but it seemed to be separated from the rest of his mind as though by a solid glass wall. He knew it was there, but no matter how insistent it became, it had no effect on him. Wesley responded so beautifully to... practically everything. He was hard to resist. Giles knew he wasn't going to give him up willingly. He'd just have to keep a closer eye on his emotional state.

 

When Wesley woke up, he felt significantly better. Whatever had fizzled out in his head, overwhelmed by the events of the day, had flickered back to life, steadying him again. He still felt slightly fragile, as if all the bits of him hadn't quite settled into their new configuration yet. He opened his eyes and looked up at Giles, managing a smile for him.

 

"Better?" Giles asked, seeing that Wesley was awake.

 

"Yes. Thank you," Wesley said, softly.

 

"Good." He kissed Wesley's forehead. "Lunch?"

 

Now that Wesley was properly connected to his body again, he could feel that he was in fact hungry. "Yes, please."

 

Giles nodded. "I'll put it together. Come downstairs when you're ready."

 

Wesley nodded. He gave himself a few minutes before he sat up, and when that went without incident he made his way downstairs. Giles was in the kitchen, so Wesley went and kneeled next to the sofa, where they'd eaten breakfast.

 

When lunch was ready, Giles sat with Wesley and fed him as he had that morning. The food restored Wesley further, giving him back some of the energy that had dropped out from under him earlier. He lovingly licked Giles' fingers clean after each morsel of food. By the end, Wesley didn't feel quite like his old self, but perhaps his new self had found some balance.

 

"Do you feel up to going out again?" Giles asked, when he'd finished putting the dishes away.

 

"Yes, sir. I'm feeling much better," Wesley said.

 

"Good," Giles said. "We've got some shopping to do. Go upstairs and put your clothes back on."

 

Wesley did as he was told. When he returned, Giles was already by the door, waiting for him.

 

As Wesley approached, Giles reached out and pulled him close. His hands roamed Wesley's back as he said, "I'm going to find you a new wardrobe. You're going to be so well dressed that men will get hard just looking at you. I'll think of that when I fuck you--other men would kill for the chance, but you're all mine."

 

"Oh!" Wesley said, flustered. He blushed, embarrassed, but felt strangely pleased with the idea. That he would be wanted, desired, by others but most of all by Giles.

 

Giles ran his hands over Wesley's arse once and pulled away. They walked out to the car and headed for the mall.

 

The drive passed quickly. Wesley followed Giles into the shopping mall, eager to see what Giles would make of him. New clothes for a new man.

 

Giles guided Wesley into one of the more popular casual clothing stores with outwardly innocent brushes of his fingers against Wesley's back and shoulders. It being a Saturday afternoon, the place was packed, but they made their way to the back and waited until one of the dressing rooms became available.

 

Once inside, Giles pushed Wesley gently to his knees, then smiled with approval when Wesley caught on and automatically crossed his hands behind his back. He kissed Wesley lightly on the forehead and said, "Wait here." When Wesley nodded his understanding, Giles disappeared back out into the store.

 

From underneath the changing room door, Wesley could see men passing back and forth. Once in while someone jiggle the handle, and Wesley felt a thrill that they might come in and see him like this, on his knees. He almost wanted the flimsy lock to fail, to feel the blood rush to his face, but only because he knew Giles was nearby to come to his rescue.

 

"Wesley," Giles said, quietly, from the other side of the door. Wesley reached up and flicked open the lock.

 

Giles came in with his arms full of jeans, slacks, and shirts, which he hung on the wall. "Undress," he instructed quietly, as he picked out the first pair of jeans for Wesley to try on.

 

While Wesley was undressing, he was intensely self-conscious. If anyone looked under the stall, they would see two pairs of feet. They would know what it meant to have two men in a dressing room together. But once he was fully nude, and he looked to Giles, the rest of the world began to melt away. It felt disturbingly right. He stepped into the jeans. He wasn't wearing any underwear, and given the enthusiasm with which Giles had thrown all of his away, he gathered that he wasn't going to be wearing any for the foreseeable future. It made zipping a precarious exercise, and it seemed he could feel every seam in the rough fabric. The jeans were snug, pressing close in unexpected ways.

 

Giles hummed thoughtfully as he looked Wesley over. "Very nice," he murmured, running his hands over Wesley's hips and admiring the way the denim hugged Wesley's body.

 

A flush worked its way up Wesley's chest. He loved the way Giles was touching him and looking at him, with appreciation and desire.

 

"We'll keep those," Giles decided, and handed Wesley a pair of khaki slacks to try on next.

 

Wesley took off the jeans with reluctance. He'd never felt particularly sexy before, but he did when he was wearing those, and he saw the heated look in Giles' eyes that they triggered. The slacks were a looser fit than the jeans, which was almost disappointing.

 

Giles approved the slacks as well, commenting on the way they showed off Wesley's arse, and then they went through a few pairs of trousers that were deemed unacceptable due to being too loose or too short or some other reason. When they were done, Giles had Wesley put the jeans back on.

 

Normally clothes shopping was a tedious chore to be finished with as quickly as possible, but not today. Wesley had become mildly aroused, making the jeans a tighter fit. His cock pressed against the fabric, bulging outwards with a delicious ache.

 

Giles noticed Wesley's state as he changed. He pressed close to Wesley, making him face the mirror, and stood behind him. "What's this about?" he whispered in Wesley's ear, rubbing his palm along Wesley's cock through the fabric.

 

Wesley almost didn't recognize himself in the mirror, half-naked, aroused, like some wanton creature. A million miles away from standing in front of the mirror on his first day, every fold neat and pressed. He forced himself to keep looking, seeing his erect nipples and flushed skin. His eyes drawn inexorably down to Giles' hand over his groin. He could feel the heat of his palm through the thick fabric.

 

"You're such a beautiful boy," Giles continued as he rubbed Wesley's groin firmly, bringing him to full hardness. "It's a shame you have to wear clothing at all. I wish I could lead you around naked, so that everyone could see exactly what's mine."

 

"Yours," Wesley said, echoing his words from that morning. "I'm yours."

 

"You are," Giles said. "But since the world wouldn't understand if I led you around naked, I'll have to settle for making you just as lovely as possible with your clothes on." With that declaration, he moved away and picked out a shirt for Wesley to try on.

 

It was a t-shirt, but not the usual boxy cotton thing Wesley was used to. It was made of a thin material, silky but without luster, that clung tightly to his skin. His erect nipples were apparent despite the covering.

 

Giles nodded and hummed in approval, and handed Wesley the next item, a looser button-up that went over the t-shirt.

 

With the outfit complete, Wesley glimpsed himself in the mirror again. He wanted to reach out and touch the glass to make sure it really was him in there.

 

Giles smiled proudly at Wesley through the mirror. "Do you think I've succeeded?"

 

"I-I..." Wesley started, rather breathless. He felt transformed. "What you've made of me..." he said, cheeks hot, his whole body warm.

 

Giles moved in close to Wesley again, wrapping his arms around him, and thrust his hips against Wesley's arse once. "It was easy, with these raw materials..."

 

Wesley ducked his head even as he began to melt against Giles' body. He'd been a small, thin boy, and grew into a gangly youth, all elbows and knees. He'd never stopped seeing himself that way. He had an awkward, unattractive body that he was only too relieved to hide under layers of cotton and wool. What he wore now showed him off, and he realized that while he'd been hiding himself, his thin frame had at last fleshed out. He'd gained muscle and a hint of softness, and instead of a gangle of limbs everything felt in proportion. It made him feel oddly confident.

 

"Giles?" he asked, softly.

 

"Yes?" Giles answered.

 

"May I... may I kiss you?" Wesley asked.

 

Giles blinked, surprised by the request. He brought his hand up to Wesley's lips and traced them in consideration. "Not on the mouth," he said, almost regretfully. "If it means that much to you, you may kiss my hand. Or my cock."

 

Wesley nodded in understanding. He turned in Giles' arms and slid to his knees. He took hold of Giles' hand and pressed his lips against it, then released it, clearing the way. He pressed his mouth against Giles' cock, kissing it through the fabric, putting all his gratitude into the action.


 

PART SEVEN: On Display

 

Giles ran his hand through Wesley's hair, eyes half-lidded with desire and a deep emotional satisfaction. It felt so right to have Wesley on his knees like this, worshipping his cock. His cock twitched against Wesley's lips, beginning to swell.

 

Wesley felt Giles' cock hardening beneath the fabric, and he wished it was out of the way. Giles had penetrated his mouth last night, the first time anyone had done that, but he hadn't been able to do anything himself. He wanted to show Giles how much this meant to him, how much he wanted him. Aware that they were in a very public place, Wesley whispered quietly, "Please, sir, may I suck your cock?"

 

Giles couldn't help the shudder that ran through him. "Yes," he whispered.

 

"Thank you, sir," Wesley replied. He reached up to undo the button on Giles' trousers.

 

"No," Giles said, a bit more loudly than was safe. "Never use your hands," he clarified, his voice dropping again.

 

Wesley pulled his hand back as if it had been burned. "No, sir. Sorry, sir." He put his hands behind his back and reconsidered how to do what needed to be done.

 

Giles stroked Wesley's hair reassuringly, but didn't offer any advice or assistance.

 

Wesley broke down the challenge in parts. First was the slim, black leather belt, then the button and zipper on the jeans. And then... well, he'd deal with the rest when he reached that far. Steadying himself, he moved closer and closer until he was directly above Giles' crotch. He closed his eyes and pressed forward until his lips touched leather, then slid to the side until he tasted the metal of the buckle. The leather was stiff, but once Wesley got his front teeth behind it, he was able to start tugging it to the side.

 

Giles closed his eyes as Wesley's chin rubbed his groin, using his hand in Wesley's hair to keep his balance. His cock swelled further in anticipation.

 

After a bit of a struggle, Wesley pried the end loose of one part of the buckle. With success came motivation, and he dug his teeth into the leather further on and pulled the rest free, though the quietest jangle of metal echoed loudly to him. He leaned back and surveyed his progress, then moved in again, this time heading for the button. It was easier than the belt--he grabbed the corner in his teeth and pulled until it slipped free. Then it was a simple matter of pulling the zipper down.

 

Giles opened his eyes again as the zipper sliding down relieved some of the pressure on his cock. He was impressed; he'd expected Wesley to struggle with this a great deal more than he had.

 

Once Wesley had the zipper down, he expected things to be easier, but then he realized that Giles' shirt was tucked neatly into his trousers. Fortunately gravity was on his side. He bit and tugged until Giles' trousers slid down, the belt weighting them down. It left behind Giles' shirt, which hung over his shorts, blocking Wesley's way. After a minute of consideration, he pulled open the buttons at the bottom of the shirt and worked his way up, leaving only the top three fastened.

 

By the time only Giles' shorts remained between Wesley and his cock, it was fully, achingly hard, and he was almost quivering in anticipation.

 

Wesley swallowed, suddenly nervous. He'd never done this before, didn't want to be a disappointment. He looked up to Giles, hoping for some guidance and encouragement.

 

Giles saw Wesley's hesitance and stroked his face lightly. "Go on," he encouraged.

 

Wesley indulged in Giles' petting for a moment, then got to work. He leaned forward and gripped the edge of the shorts. Giles' cock was hard, bulging against the fabric. The moment the shorts were low enough, it sprang free, bumping against Wesley's face. He tugged the shorts down until they pooled onto the trousers, then moved back up.

 

When Wesley hesitated again, mouth inches from Giles' cock, Giles said softly, "Lick it."

 

Wesley stared at Giles' erection, gathering his nerve. He started with a series of exploratory licks around the end of the shaft, not quite at the head, and worked his way around until he felt more comfortable. Then he pulled back and rubbed his lips against the tip.

 

Giles sighed almost silently with pleasure, knowing he couldn't afford to make any noises here. He resumed stoking his hand through Wesley's hair, wanting to let the younger man know how much he enjoyed this.

 

Encouraged, Wesley rubbed his lips all around the head, tongue peeking out to lap at it as he went.

 

Giles soon had to concentrate just on staying upright, as Wesley's lips and tongue moved over him. Wesley lacked technique, yes, but the reminder that his was the first cock Wesley had ever sucked only made Giles more aroused.

 

Wesley lengthened his licks, moving around and up as if Giles' cock was an ice cream cone. There was the start of a familiar bitterness at the tip, and Wesley licked it clean.

 

Biting his cheek to stifle a moan, Giles' tightened his hand in Wesley's hair. "More," he said, his breathing heavy.

 

The encouragement helped Wesley work up the daring to move on to Giles' balls, now that he'd become accustomed to his cock. He worked some spit onto his tongue and gave broad licks along the front, curling his tongue down and cupping the sac in his mouth.

 

"Good," Giles breathed shakily, barely audible.

 

"Thank you, sir," Wesley whispered. Then he froze as someone knocked on the stall door.

 

Giles took a deep breath to steady his voice. "Yes?" he called, trying to sound neutral.

 

"Thought it was free. Sorry," a man's voice replied.

 

Wesley held his breath and watched a pair of feet walk away. After a moment, he heard a knock on the next room over, and let out a shuddering breath.

 

Giles smiled down at Wesley mischievously. "Don't stop now," he prompted.

 

Wesley let out a soft whimper. The risk of being caught had sent his pulse racing, and his cock was so hard the seam of his jeans pressed painfully against it. He resumed his task, this time starting at the middle of the shaft and working his way backwards, licking and rubbing his lips as he went. Then he moved to the underside and worked his way back up. Gradually Wesley began to try using sucking as well as the licking and rubbing. He hollowed his cheeks with gentle suction, enjoying the feeling of heated flesh against his lips.

 

Giles hand tightened in Wesley's hair again, because standing still and not moaning aloud was becoming more and more of a challenge. He guided Wesley's mouth to the head of his cock and told him, "Suck."

 

"Yes, sir," Wesley breathed, voice muffled by the press of Giles' cock against his lips. He opened his mouth and slid himself down over the head, then sealed his lips around it and sucked.

 

Giles hissed his pleasure. After a few minutes more, he couldn't suppress the urge to thrust shallowly.

 

Wesley began to grunt softly as Giles' cock moved inside him, but he forced himself to quiet. It bumped against his tongue, sliding back and forth against it.

 

Giles had soon taken over from Wesley entirely, holding Wesley's head while he thrust faster and faster. "Now--" he warned, seconds before he came.

 

Wesley heard the warning just in time. Giles pushed deep into his mouth as he had before, but this time he was prepared. He held himself as still as possible and held his breath as Giles came, then swallowed hard so he didn't choke.

 

As his orgasm faded, Giles pulled back to let Wesley breathe again. After taking a few seconds to recover, he helped Wesley to his feet and said in his ear, "Wonderful. You're a very good boy, Wesley."

 

"Thank you, sir," Wesley said, practically purring with pleasure, knowing he'd done well.

 

Giles ran his hand down Wesley's back and pulled away. He tucked himself back into his trousers and handed Wesley the next shirt he wanted him to try.

 

Wesley licked his lips, cleaning away a few drops of come left there. His mouth was full of the taste, and for all its bitterness he was happy to savor it. To be full of Giles' come meant he'd been good, and it made him feel deliciously uninhibited. He kept his eyes locked with Giles' as he switched clothes, not bothering to look in the mirror. If Giles liked it, that was all that mattered.

 

Giles picked out a few more shirts to go with the jeans and slacks, and finally had Wesley change back into his original clothing. He stopped him as he was about to tuck his shirt in, though, and pushed Wesley back against the wall with one hand. With the other, he gave Wesley's still mostly-erect cock a series of long, firm strokes.

 

Leaning in to whisper in Wesley's ear again, he said, "I may not be able to keep you naked, but I can keep you hard. You're going to go out there and let everyone see how aroused you are, and they're going to know it's for me."

 

Despite the need to be quiet, Wesley couldn't entirely hold back the whimper that evoked. It was wrong, it was obscene, and it was unbelievably erotic. He caught a glimpse of his reflection, seeing himself dressed this way, an obvious bulge in his jeans, lips dark from sucking cock, with Giles' body pressing him into the wall and his hand over Wesley's erection... He shuddered, almost coming on the spot.

 

Giles tucked Wesley's shirt in so that his cock stuck out between the tails, then carefully zipped his jeans. The head of his cock pressed into the fabric next to the top of the zipper, clearly outlined.

 

He picked up the clothes they had decided to buy and indicated Wesley should carry the rest. "Put those on the rack out here," he instructed, as he turned and opened the door.

 

Every step put exquisite pressure on Wesley's cock, keeping it rock hard. He held the clothes in front of him as he emerged from the stall, trying not to look around to see if anyone would notice them leaving the changing area together. He placed the unwanted clothes on the rack. Turning around was an effort of will, and only the fact that Giles had commanded him made it possible for him to take the necessary steps. It felt like his stomach was hosting a butterfly convention.

 

The store was still crowded, forcing them to wend their way slowly through the throng to reach the sales counter. Several people's eyes widened as they looked as Wesley, but they turned away quickly, trying to pretend they hadn't seen anything. When someone muttered, "Faggot," Giles stopped in his tracks and turned to face the perpetrator.

 

"Would you care to repeat that?" he growled.

 

The man in question glanced around, trying to act innocent. "What?"

 

Giles gave a dismissive snort and started moving again. Suddenly people seemed to be getting out of their way.

 

Walking through the store, Wesley felt as if all eyes were upon him. In fact, many were, and in them he saw varying degrees of shock, interest, and disgust. It was surreal to him, to be causing such reactions in others, where previously there had only been boredom or annoyance. But the muttered insult was another matter entirely, a threat that promised violence, and he didn't deal well with such things. And then Giles had stepped to his defense, strong and brave. Wesley was even less used to someone wanting to protect him. He fell a little bit in love with Giles, then.

 

They waited their turn in line at the counter, and finally Giles was able to hand over their purchases. When it came time to pay for them, he dug out Wesley's credit card, then indicated Wesley should sign the receipt.

 

Wesley signed his name with a shaky hand, then watched as Giles tucked his card away again. He remembered when his father had reviewed every item in his finances, and imagined what he would say if he saw what was on them now. Before this today, Wesley would have been afraid, but now that angry voice was muffled, distant. What his father wanted didn't matter anymore.

 

Giles handed Wesley the bag to Wesley and they ventured back out into the mall. They visited two more stores, much like the first, and in these stores Giles made Wesley kneel naked in the changing room while he went to select clothes for him to try on. He kept Wesley hard throughout the process, taking the time to stroke him and compliment him as he modeled new outfits. By the time they were done Wesley had a small but functional wardrobe.

 

As they walked out of the third store, Giles asked, "Are you hungry?"

 

"Yes, sir," Wesley said. It was difficult to tell when he was in such a state, aroused so much for so long, but it seemed like they were due for a meal.

 

They went to the food court. "Do you know what you'd like?" Giles asked.

 

Wesley looked around at the various options. He barely recognized one or two of them by name, and ended up going with the safest option. "Um, pizza?" he offered. He hadn't had a chance to try proper American pizza yet.

 

Giles sat Wesley down at a table while he ordered their food. He returned quickly, setting a large slice of pizza down in front of Wesley.

 

At first Wesley only nibbled at his slice, more aroused than hungry. The pizza was greasy but rather good, and his hunger moved to the forefront. He was halfway through with a mouthful when he heard a feminine shriek of "Giles!" His eyes widened and every muscle in his body froze up when he recognized the voice as Buffy's.

 

Giles took a deep breath and gave Wesley a stern look that seemed to say, "Keep quiet."

 

"Buffy," he said pleasantly.

 

Before he could continue, Buffy said, "What are you doing here? Aren't Watchers like allergic to malls?"

 

"Yes, well," Giles said. "Wesley felt that his suits were a bit out of place in our little library. We've been buying him a more appropriate wardrobe."

 

Buffy seemed to notice Wesley for the first time. "Oh, Wesley. Hi."

 

Wesley still had a mouthful of pizza. He glanced over to Giles, then raised his hand in a little wave, hoping that would suffice.

 

Buffy seemed to be more interested in interrogating Giles than talking to Wesley. "Seriously," she said, "are you sick or something?" Giles smiled patiently while she felt his forehead. "Nope, no fever. Man, I wish I had a camera. Will and Xand are so never gonna believe this. Giles at the mall."

 

Giles stammered for a moment. "Really, Buffy, don't you have something better to do? I hardly think this is cause for a news bulletin."

 

"Are you kidding? Giles, this is bigger news than a sale at Benetton. Speaking of which, have you guys been yet?"

 

Giles blinked a few times. "We'll certainly consider it."

 

"Okay," Buffy said. "Well, I gotta get there before everything's gone. Was gonna go this morning, but Mom catch up on my homework first. I think I liked her better when she was on the Band Candy..."

 

With that, Buffy turned and dashed back into the crowd.

 

Wesley finally swallowed his pizza. He turned to Giles anxiously. The Slayer had seen him like this! He dropped the rest of the slice onto his plate, too panicked to even think of food anymore. And he was still hard! Oh Lord, he wanted to hide somewhere dark and never go outside again.

 

Giles saw Wesley's panicked expression and grabbed his hand. "Calm down," he said gently. "She wasn't paying any attention to you."

 

"But she will!" Wesley blurted out, then put his hand over his mouth and sunk into his chair. He'd spoken loudly and out of turn, and people were looking at him again.

 

Giles stood, gathering their bags in one hand and his pizza in the other. "Come with me," he said, tone still soft.

 

Anxiety and dread made Wesley's stomach roil, but he gathered himself together enough to do as Giles said. He followed him, keeping his head down, and tried to hide himself behind his bags.

 

Giles led them out of the building and wandered around until they found a secluded bench, away from the doors.

 

"Wesley," he said sternly, though not unkindly, once they were seated. "People are far less likely to notice something's wrong if you act like nothing is."

 

Wesley clutched a large shopping bag to himself. He felt very exposed and uncomfortable, and didn't see how anyone could fail to notice anything. Giles reached over and pulled the bag from his hands; Wesley tried to pull it back, ineffectively.

 

Giles put the bags on the ground and reached out to Wesley again, stroking a hand down his neck. "Remember, you're only doing what I want. There's no reason to be afraid. If anything happens, I'll deal with it. It's not your responsibility."

 

That calmed Wesley's fluttering nerves somewhat, but he was still unsettled. "Giles?"

 

Giles raised his eyebrows slightly and waited for Wesley to continue.

 

"What if someone finds out? What if Buffy..." Wesley trailed off, looking anxiously to Giles.

 

"Then I'll deal with it," Giles said. "Believe me, if that should happen, I'll bear a great deal more of the burden than you will. You're mine, Wesley. Anyone who tries to hurt you or take you away from me will have quite a fight on their hands."

 

"I'm yours," Wesley said, reminding himself as much as affirming the fact. Giles was in charge, not him, and that meant it wasn't his place to worry. He relaxed, feeling a bit sheepish. "I'm sorry, sir."

 

"It's all right," Giles said, caressing Wesley's neck again. "You're really adjusting to all this remarkably quickly; just a few rough spots that need smoothing out. Do you feel up to one more round of shopping?"

 

"Yes, sir," Wesley said. The confidence that had possessed him earlier was gone, but so was the anxiety. What was left was the peaceful feeling of being owned and cared for. It was secretly his favorite feeling, even with all the other pleasures Giles had introduced him to.

 

"Good," Giles said. "Since we're out here, let's put these things in the car."

 

They did so, and then returned inside. Giles led Wesley to a different class of shop, much more sparsely populated than the others had been, and led him to a dressing room. "You know how I want you," he said, and left Wesley while he went to gather a few items.

 

Wesley stripped naked and kneeled. The stress of being seen by Buffy had finally caused his erection to fade, but the calming reality of Giles' ownership left him content to wait.

 

Giles returned this time with only a handful of items: a pair of black leather pants and a few shirts of different styles and colors, a belt and a pair of boots.

 

They started with the pants. They were as tight as the jeans, and more difficult for Wesley to wriggle into. When he finally closed the top button, they fit like a second skin.

 

Giles almost purred with pleasure as he surveyed Wesley in the pants for the first time. He ran his hands all over Wesley's hips, arse, and groin, feeling the way the leather pressed flush against his skin at every point.

 

Wesley's cock started to harden again from the stimulation, but there was very little room. The more Giles touched him, the more uncomfortable his erection became, until it was almost painful.

 

"Hmm," Giles said, noticing Wesley's discomfort. He peeled the pants down and rearranged Wesley's cock so that it could stand upright, pressed against his stomach, the carefully zipped him back up. "Better?"

 

Wesley gave a soft whimper, then nodded. The pressure on his cock was still intense, but it was bearable. The leather was cut low, and he could feel the head of his cock rubbing against the bottom of the waistband.

 

Giles stood back to admire him for another moment, then rubbed and squeezed Wesley's balls through the leather.

 

Wesley had to bite his lip to hold back his moans. The leather was tugged slightly downwards by the squeezing, revealing the very tip of Wesley's cock, pressed tight between his abdomen and the waistband.

 

Brushing his fingers over Wesley's exposed head, Giles murmured, "Perfect..."

 

Wesley gave a shuddering breath, at the description as much as the delicious touch on his cock.

 

Still rubbing the head of Wesley's cock, Giles said quietly, "You know, I think these would be a bit more comfortable if I shaved you. And imagine how they'd feel..."

 

A moan finally escaped Wesley's throat, sounding far too loud in the small changing room. He shifted onto his toes, pressing up into Giles' hand.

 

"Well," Giles continued, "I'd have to put a little talcum powder on you to prevent chafing. But otherwise there'd be nothing between you and the leather, rubbing against you as you walked. Nothing between you and my hand, either, if I wanted. Yes, I think I should shave you. First thing tomorrow, perhaps..."

 

"Oh Lord," Wesley whispered. The thought of Giles taking anything sharp to him down there made him feel intensely vulnerable.

 

"Think about that, Wesley. You'll have to be absolutely still for me. Like a statue. You wouldn't want me to cut you by accident. And I'm going to have to do this weekly, at least, to keep you bare."

 

The thought filled Wesley with equal parts fear, anticipation, and excitement. Giles taking away another part of him, changing him... it was as if he was addicted to it, but then so far every surrender had been glorious. "Yes, sir," he whispered, faintly.

 

"Perhaps that should be our next order of business," Giles said decisively. "I just need you try the rest of these on." He indicated a few tight shirts, the boots, and the belt, which was made of chain mail.

 

Wesley pulled on the first shirt in a daze, smoothing it down over his body. He slipped on the boots, then cinched the belt loosely around his waist. It wasn't as if he needed it to hold up his trousers anyway.

 

Giles rejected two of the four shirts, but the rest was deemed acceptable. Wesley changed back into his street clothes one last time and they went to check out.

 

Wesley had become so accustomed to his new outfit, and the way Giles had placed his erection pressed tall in his jeans, that he'd almost forgotten it wasn't normal until he saw the way the cashier was staring at him. He blushed, but didn't try to hide himself.

 

They walked out to the car in comfortable silence--or perhaps Wesley was too focused on his arousal to speak. Giles was satisfied either way.


 

PART EIGHT: Shorn

 

As they got under way, Giles slid his hand into Wesley's lap, first unfastening Wesley's jeans, then pushing his hand inside and cupping Wesley's balls. "This is the last time you'll have so much hair on your balls," he remarked. "Or anywhere between your legs."

 

"Yes, sir," Wesley said, eagerly. He spread his legs further apart and shifted forward, so that Giles' fingers could moved more freely. He wanted to memorize how it felt, one last time.

 

"If what I've heard is any indication," Giles continued, "you'll be much more sensitive. I can't wait to feel how smooth and soft your skin will be, too."

 

Wesley moaned his pleasure, no longer restrained by the limitations of being out in public.

 

Giles smiled warmly. "I want you to close your eyes and imagine how the blade will feel on your balls. Imagine it scraping over your most sensitive skin, shearing you clean for me. I'll have to go very slowly. It might take half an hour. And no matter how good it feels or how nervous you are, you can't move a muscle, or you risk being cut."

 

Wesley swallowed nervously. "Giles?"

 

"Yes?"

 

"Will you tie me down? Please?" Wesley asked.

 

"Since you asked so nicely," Giles said, though in truth he'd been planning to tie Wesley down anyway.

 

"Thank you, sir," Wesley said, relieved. He was afraid he would move at the wrong moment, but he trusted Giles, even with a razor to his most sensitive places.

 

"You're welcome," Giles said. He said nothing else on the drive home, just idly fondled Wesley's balls the entire time.

 

When they reached the flat, Giles gave them one last squeeze before letting go. He instructed Wesley to fasten himself back up, with his cock straight up the way he had done at the mall. Wesley had to get out of the car and stand to manage it, and then he helped carry in their bags.

 

"Go upstairs, undress, and lie on your back just as though I'd tied you," Giles instructed. While Wesley complied, he put away most of the new clothes in the closet. He noted that it was getting a bit crowded, with both his and Wesley's things.

 

Wesley did as he was told, shucking off his jeans with a sigh of relief. They weren't so tight that he couldn't wear them for long periods, but it felt good to be unrestrained again. He lay down on the bed, positioning his limbs the way he remembered from before. His stomach fluttered nervously.

 

Leaving the few things that needed to go elsewhere for later, Giles gathered a straight razor, a small sharpening block, a bowl of warm water, and some shaving soap that he thought would be mild enough not to irritate Wesley's skin. He put all that and a glass of ice water on a tray, grabbed a towel, and headed upstairs.

 

Wesley watched quietly as Giles entered the bedroom and began setting up. The reality of a sharp blade against his genitals was starting to sink in, and he swallowed nervously.

 

Giles fastened the cuffs on Wesley's wrists and ankles, and tied his wrists to the bed. He'd need his legs free to be able to reach everything. Once Wesley's wrists were secure, Giles blindfolded him. He sat on the edge of the bed and began sharpening the razor.

 

The rasp of the razor sent prickles up Wesley's spine. If he could touch there, he knew the hair at the back of his neck would be standing.

 

Once Giles was satisfied that the blade was as sharp as it was going to get--and Wesley had had sufficient time to anticipate what was coming--he laid it aside and turned back to Wesley, lifting his legs so he could place the towel under his hips. Then he wet a soft cloth and lathered it, and began applying it to Wesley's groin.

 

There was a warm wetness being spread around his cock and balls--shaving soap, Wesley realized. His pulse sped up as the moment neared.

 

When Wesley was thoroughly lathered, Giles picked up the razor again and said, "Now. Be very, very still for me, Wesley."

 

"Yes, sir," Wesley said, voice tight. He tensed up in anticipation.

 

Giles started with the relatively safe area of Wesley's abdomen, quickly and neatly clearing away all his pubic hair from the navel down.

 

The room was quiet apart from the scrape of the razor blade against Wesley's skin. Every scrape seemed magnified to Wesley, both in sound and feeling, and he couldn't help but anticipate how the blade would feel on more sensitive areas. He couldn't help but imagine how he would look, shorn bare.

 

Giles finished with the front and lifted one of Wesley's legs over his shoulder so that he could reach the cleft of Wesley's arse. He was saving Wesley's balls for last. Shaving Wesley's arse crack was an exceptionally delicate job, though, as it was difficult to get the blade in at the right angle without dragging it dangerously over other things. Giles persisted with care, sometimes taking off only one hair at a time as he wiped away foam so he could see what he was doing and relathered repeatedly.

 

Everything seemed to slow down for Wesley. He was suddenly becoming very, very aware of the geography of his genital area. It was not a location that he normally gave much consideration to, apart from cleanliness, but now it seemed to have far, far too many creases and bumps and curves. Giles seemed to take an eternity on each spot, and when he was done it left naked skin that had been covered since puberty. And then there was the fact that all of this meant he was the most exposed he'd ever been, splayed out for Giles' careful inspection. It was an amazing sensation, but it was not doing wonders for his nerves.

 

Finally satisfied that he'd shorn all the pubic hair from around Wesley's arsehole, Giles let him lie flat again and began work on the base of his cock and his balls. He worked slowly and carefully, though it wasn't nearly as challenging as what he'd just finished. Cutting Wesley would put a serious crimp in his plans for the evening, so he used all due caution.

 

Wesley barely breathed during all this, not wanting to jolt Giles' hand. It was probably just as well he couldn't see what was going on, because that would have made it much harder to stand. He clenched his fists and tried not to think about the blade slipping, and what could happen if it did.

 

Giles finally finished his work and wiped Wesley's groin clean with the towel. "There," he said lightly. "All done."

 

Wesley let out a shuddering breath, relieved, and finally released the tension he'd been holding. "How does it look?" he asked, curious.

 

"Beautiful," Giles said. He carefully fondled Wesley's balls. "There's nothing in my way now."

 

"Nothing," Wesley breathed, focused on the sensations. Even the touch of Giles' fingers was more intense now.

 

Giles snagged the cock ring from where he'd left it on the nightstand and quickly fastened it on.

 

Wesley inhaled sharply and held perfectly still as the ring tightened around him. If his erection had faded at all during the shaving, it came back to full hardness now.

 

Giles smiled, pleased by Wesley's reaction. He stroked Wesley's cock a few times, then reached over to the glass of water he'd brought up and fished out a piece of ice. Holding on carefully, he skated the ice across Wesley's balls.

 

Wesley let out a cry of surprise and flinched away from the cold, but it moved with him. He made small noises as the ice sparked off every nerve on the now very sensitive skin.

 

After a few moments, Giles relented and massaged warmth back into Wesley's balls with his other hand. Then he pressed the ice against the head of Wesley's cock.

 

Just as Wesley had relaxed into the warmth of Giles' hand, the ice was back again. He made a strangled sound, the cords of his neck standing out from the strain.

 

Giles applied the ice to Wesley's cock until it became too small and misshapen to hold onto anymore, then pushed the remainder into Wesley's arse and resumed stroking Wesley's cock properly.

 

The sudden cold up his arse made Wesley arch off the bed, trying to escape it, but it was in too far and was too small and slick to be pushed out.

 

Giles kept stroking Wesley's cock with one hand, and caressed his face with the other. "Easy, Wesley. You can handle it."

 

The ice melted interminably slowly, but soon it was gone. Wesley relaxed again, feeling his body warm again. His erection would have faded entirely if not for the cock ring.

 

Giles stroked Wesley quickly back to hardness, still caressing his face. "Good boy," he murmured. "You could stand to be a little more stoic, but you didn't beg. That counts for a lot."

 

"Mm," Wesley murmured, pleased with the feeling of Giles' hand on his cock and the praise that came with it.

 

"In fact," Giles continued, as his hand moved lower to fondle Wesley's shorn scrotum, "I'm quite pleased with your performance today. You've entirely exceeded my expectations. I think you've earned a reward."

 

"Reward?" Wesley asked, hopeful.

 

Giles chuckled quietly at Wesley's eagerness. "Yes. What do you think would be a suitable reward? Would you like me to fuck you again?"

 

"Oh!" Wesley breathed. "Yes, sir. Please!"

 

Giles chuckled harder. "All right." He took his proper lube out of the drawer in the nightstand, noting as he did so that they were going to need more soon. He knelt between Wesley's legs and hooked the younger man's knees over his shoulders, then slicked two fingers. Giving Wesley no further preparation, he slowly pushed them into his arse.

 

"Oh!" Wesley said, this time from surprise. He'd expected Giles to go slowly. The sudden insertion of two fingers made him stretch more than he was used to, especially as he'd only ever been penetrated once before.

 

Giles stroked Wesley's thigh with his free hand. "Relax. You remember what to do?"

 

Wesley tried to think. He'd avoided thinking about that night until now, too frightened of what Giles had done, how it had made him feel. But it was different, now. Now he was Giles'. He remembered being bent across the desk, Giles pushing into him, telling him to... to push. He bore down onto the fingers.

 

"Good," Giles said, encouraging. That made it much easier to push his fingers in, and he did so firmly, soon sheathing them all the way.

 

Even though the penetration was tolerable this way, Wesley was still having to work at adjusting to it. He concentrated on making the muscles there relax.

 

Giles worked his fingers slowly out and back in again. "Remember how it was before," he said soothingly. "It'll be easier soon."

 

Wesley hoped so. He remembered the bright sparks of pleasure, the way the fullness of Giles' fingers and cock had become something to seek out instead of pull away from. The way Giles had driven him out of his mind--that was what he wanted again.

 

As Wesley's body yielded more freely to his fingers, Giles paused to seek out his prostate, rubbing it with tiny circular motions.

 

There it was, the feeling he craved. Wesley moaned and moved into it, seeking more.

 

Giles gradually began to move his fingers again, shallow thrusts at first, then deeper ones, but always bumping Wesley's prostate as much as possible.

 

Wesley rocked his hips, urging Giles to move faster, as each thrust inside sent off fresh sparks of pleasure. If this was his reward for being a good boy, he always wanted to be good.

 

Giles thrust his fingers into Wesley faster and faster, trusting the cock ring to keep him from coming for now. Wesley's cock was dark from the constriction, contrasting sharply against the pale, now mostly-hairless skin of his belly.

 

"Yes," Wesley hissed. "More, please."

 

"Do you want my cock, Wesley?" Giles asked, stilling his fingers deep inside.

 

Wesley whimpered at the loss. "Please, I... I want it. Please, sir!"

 

"Are you sure?" Giles asked. "It's probably going to hurt a bit at first, like the last time."

 

Wesley hadn't liked the pain, didn't want it again, but he knew what waited for him if he could stand it. If he could prove himself good enough for it. "Please, sir. I'll be good, I promise."

 

"Yes, I believe you will," Giles said gently. He withdrew his fingers from Wesley's arse and opened his trousers, pushing them and his shorts down to his knees. Grabbing the lube, he slicked himself hastily, then wiped his hands on the towel he'd used for shaving Wesley.

 

He readjusted Wesley's legs and gripped Wesley's hips firmly, then carefully pushed his cock into Wesley's opening. The angle of penetration was a bit better than before, but Wesley was less well prepared, and Giles stopped once his head was past the anal ring to give Wesley time to acclimate.

 

Wesley was stretched tight around Giles' cock, almost painfully so despite the preparation. He took short, shallow breaths. When he was ready he clenched his teeth and pushed, trying to make it easier.

 

Giles eased his cock in when Wesley bore down, then stopped when Wesley panicked and clenched tight around it. "Deep breaths," he urged. "Try to stay calm."

 

Despite his best efforts, Wesley was having trouble. He focused on the sound of Giles' voice, on the grip of Giles' hands on his hips, holding him tightly. It helped, but it wasn't enough. He wanted it but he needed Giles to help him. "I can't... please, sir. Help me."

 

Giles couldn't let go of Wesley's hips yet without his cock sliding out. "Breathe with me," he instructed, taking loud, long breaths. "You've done this before. You can do it again."

 

Wesley took a few staggered breaths, then synchronized with Giles. With each inhale, he felt his muscles relax a fraction further. After a couple of minutes, the penetration was bearable. He gave an intentional clench.

 

"There, you see," Giles said. He eased his cock deeper again, still breathing with Wesley.

 

They kept in sync as Giles gradually speared himself in. Wesley felt incredibly full, and cold sweat prickled on his skin from the effort and discomfort, but underneath it was the sense of accomplishment it gave him, to be able to take Giles' cock into himself. To be stretched open and fucked by it.

 

"Very good, Wesley," Giles murmured, finally releasing Wesley's hips as he could use his weight to keep his cock buried. He stroked Wesley's cock with one hand, holding onto one of Wesley's legs for balance with the other.

 

"Thank you, sir," Wesley said, distantly. He opened his eyes under the blindfold as Giles began to stroke his cock. There was a subtle shift of position, and now Giles was pushing in just a bit faster. The pleasurable feeling of Giles' hand offset the additional discomfort. It couldn't be much longer now.

 

Once he was in all the way, his balls pressing against Wesley's arse, Giles didn't move for a few minutes, just stroked Wesley's cock lazily while he adjusted to the fullness inside.

 

Faint tremors went through Wesley's body, both from the position Giles held him in and the not quite pleasure-pain of penetration. Giles' cock was no easier to take for it being the second time, and still felt terrible large inside him. He kept his mind on the slow stroking of his cock, the steadiness of Giles' breathing as he matched his own to it.

 

Seeing Wesley struggle to accept his cock turned Giles on so much that he was briefly afraid if he moved he'd come already. He found himself relying on the deep breathing to stay calm, then, as Wesley gradually began to move against him, seeking more stimulation.

 

Wesley rocked his hips with a slow stagger, pulling away perhaps an inch and then impaling himself back to the fullest point. His thighs and stomach trembled whenever he stilled, burning from the strain of how slowly he had to move.

 

Giles didn't assist at first, not because he was trying to make it difficult for Wesley but because he was still struggling to control himself. It took reaching down and pinching off the base of his own scrotum before he could thrust without fearing that he'd immediately lose control.

 

When Giles finally pushed into Wesley again, it was unexpectedly sharply, forcing a gasp from him. Giles took over, holding Wesley's hips as he slowly pulled out and then thrust back in with a force that Wesley felt all through his body. He tried to meet them as best he could, and when he did it seemed to send Giles' cock that much deeper inside him. "Yes," he groaned.

 

After a few minutes Giles felt himself preparing to go over the edge again and pulled out of Wesley entirely. He let Wesley's hips fall back to the bed while he waited, and stroked Wesley's cock to keep him desperate.

 

Wesley clenched against the emptiness left behind, feeling too stretched out now to be without Giles' cock. The hand on his cock wasn't nearly enough. "Please," he begged, "please fuck me."

 

"Patience," Giles murmured. "You're so beautiful like this that it's hard to control myself. But this your reward, and I want to do it properly."

 

Wesley whimpered and clenched again. "Yes, sir," he managed.

 

Giles waited a while longer, playing with Wesley's cock and balls all the while, then lifted Wesley's hips again and pushed back in as quickly as he dared, this time giving Wesley no opportunity to adjust to the penetration.

 

"Oh God!" Wesley cried out, overwhelmed. But it was that feeling of too much that he wanted most. He tightened his thighs, urging Giles on. "More, please, yes," he begged.

 

Giles began fucking Wesley much faster and harder than before, now that he had a margin of control to work with. He grunted his own pleasure and he drove himself deep into Wesley again and again.

 

Wesley was being fucked so hard he could do nothing but take it. Giles' cock scraped his prostate again and again, and the feeling of being pounded sent delicious spikes of sensation through him. "Oh God, oh God yes, yes," he moaned.

 

Giles kept going. He could feel his orgasm building inside him again, and this time he didn't try to fight it.

 

Wesley's toes curled and his fists clenched, and he felt himself start to tighten up. "Giles!" he warned. "I-I'm close, sir."

 

Giles stopped moving immediately, his cock all the way in Wesley. "Good boy, Wesley," he said. He was trembling from the strain of holding still, but he reached out to caress Wesley's face. "You're not to come, you understand?"

 

Wesley whimpered, panting. He felt a flush of warmth through him as he fought back his orgasm. It took a minute of intense concentration for him to be able to speak again. "Yes, sir," he ground out, teeth clenched.

 

Once he was sure Wesley wasn't going to come, Giles began moving again, too slowly too make Wesley come. It would almost have been too slowly to let Giles come, but Wesley's needy, thwarted whimpers were stimulation enough to make up the difference.

 

It was incredibly difficult to hold himself back, especially with Giles fucking him slowly. But Wesley worked desperately at it, as if holding back a tremendous body-strength sneeze.

 

Giles' arousal became a slow, torturous burn as he crept closer to orgasm. He groaned loudly in frustration, but finally, after several more agonizing minutes, he came explosively, his entire body going rigid as his ejaculate poured into Wesley like water bursting from a dam. As the orgasm faded he gasped and collapsed on top of Wesley.

 

Wesley whimpered and trembled as he lay under Giles, still on the verge of orgasm. For all that he'd fought back, the continued stimulation was that much more of a battle.

 

After a few minutes, Giles lifted his hips enough to pull his cock free of Wesley's body, then relaxed on top of him again. His hands roamed idly over Wesley's chest, shoulders, and neck, petting him fondly. "Was that what you wanted, Wesley?" he inquired, voice low and sated.

 

Wesley tried to writhe away from Giles' touch, but that only made it worse. "Please--" he choked out. "So close, please--!"

 

"Mmm," Giles murmured, tweaking one of Wesley's nipples painfully. "I don't believe an orgasm was part of the arrangement. Feel free to continue, though. I love hearing you beg."

 

Wesley whined and twisted away, then froze as Giles pinched his nipple again, hard. Even though it hurt, it wasn't helping, only somehow making orgasm that much more imminent. "Please, it's too much," he whimpered. "I can't... I can't..."

 

Giles raised his head and kissed Wesley's collarbone. "You'll be all right." He put his head back down and sighed contentedly.

 

Wesley lay twitching and panting for some time, riding the edge of orgasm, but eventually it seemed to plateau and then slowly lessen in intensity. The minimal stimulation helped a great deal, and it was a relief when he could finally relax.

 

By the time Wesley's incipient orgasm had faded, Giles was snoring softly.

 

Wesley heard it, and realized that he was trapped: cuffed, blindfolded, still hard in the cockring, and with Giles' body pressing him into the bed. He tried to wiggle free, but it was no use. He did his best to make himself comfortable and closed his eyes. Every so often he would feel a fresh wave of arousal as his situation impressed itself upon him again, but he rode each one out--what else could he do? He was still very, very hard when he fell asleep, his erection pressed between Giles' body and his own.


 

PART NINE: Respite

 

 

After another hour or so, Giles tried to roll over in his sleep, only to find his legs tangled in his trousers. He woke up with a soft grunt of surprise, and quickly remembered what had happened. Glancing at the clock, he realized to his alarm that Wesley had been in the cock ring a bit longer than was probably safe, if he was still hard.

 

He checked Wesley's cock and was relieved to discover that it had softened somewhat, though not all the way. Preferring to err on the side of caution, he removed the ring. Wesley awoke with a sudden gasp. He moaned softly, feeling the ache that came after such restraints were removed.

 

Seeing that Wesley was awake, Giles reached up and eased the blindfold off, then shielded Wesley's eyes until he adjusted to the light. "How do you feel?" he asked kindly.

 

"Groggy?" Wesley replied, not entirely awake yet. Most of him was still asleep, though the bits that were waking up were already competing for attention. He slowly became aware of a tired, delicious ache that was spread throughout his body. His genitals throbbed and ached as well, finally free of the ring.

 

Giles smiled warmly and began freeing Wesley's wrists. "Do you feel sufficiently rewarded?"

 

At the reminder, Wesley's arse also started vying for attention. He was sore, definitely, but felt very well-fucked for it. "Yes, sir," he said. He missed coming, though. God, if Giles had let him then, when he'd been so close, it would have been amazing.

 

"Good," Giles said. He helped Wesley sit up, massaging his arms to ease the stiffness of his muscles.

 

Wesley moaned again as Giles worked on him. He felt wrung out, with a strange lassitude that he supposed was from being so close to climax but never reaching it. He'd been hard on and off all day, and mostly on.

 

"Come on," Giles urged, once Wesley's arms were working again. "We need to wash up."

 

Giles helped him up on wobbly legs and took him into the bathroom. Giles quickly but gently bathed his groin and Wesley's arse and crotch with a flannel. They both used the toilet, but before they brushed their teeth, Giles asked, "Are you hungry? You didn't really have a proper supper."

 

Now that he was properly awake again, he did feel hungry. "Yes, please. A snack should be sufficient."

 

Giles fixed a sandwich while Wesley knelt in the door of the kitchenette, then sliced it in half and gave Wesley part, choosing to let him eat it by himself in this case.

 

Wesley finished the sandwich quickly but neatly, then put his hands behind his back again. He was fairly tired from the many events of the day, both in body and mind.

 

Giles insisted that Wesley drink a full glass of water and did the same himself, knowing that their activities had probably left both of them a bit dehydrated. Then they brushed their teeth and went back upstairs.

 

Giles instructed Wesley to lay on the bed, and he did, rather grateful to be horizontal again. All he wanted to do was sleep.

 

After binding Wesley as he had the night before, Giles crawled into bed behind him and wrapped an arm around his waist. They were both asleep again within a few minutes.

 

Wesley woke up alone in bed, still blindfolded and bound hand and foot. The smells of breakfast drifted past. He turned in his bonds until he lay on his back, and then his bladder woke up. "Giles?" he called out, hoping he was nearby.

 

Giles turned the stove down a bit and dashed upstairs, anticipating Wesley's request.

 

Giles released Wesley from the bed and removed his blindfold, and Wesley hurried into the bathroom to pee.

 

Giles returned to the kitchen, smiling in amusement at Wesley's desperation. By the time Wesley emerged from the bathroom, he was beginning to serve breakfast on a plate.

 

Wesley exited the bathroom feeling much better. He went to kneel by the couch, but Giles directed him to the desk.

 

After he put breakfast on the desk and sat down, Giles took a moment to pet Wesley's hair. "Sleep well?"

 

The touch settled something in Wesley that he couldn't quite name. "Yes, sir."

 

"Today's going to be a bit slower than yesterday," Giles informed him, still running his fingers soothingly through Wesley's hair. "There's some work I need to do, and you'll need to write your first report for the Council. I doubt we'll go out?"

 

Wesley closed his eyes, leaning into the petting. "That sounds nice," he said, relieved. Yesterday had been amazing, but also nerve-wracking and exhausting. A quiet Sunday was just what he needed.

 

"Excellent," Giles said. With his unoccupied hand he picked up a piece of toast and offered it to Wesley.

 

Wesley took a bite and chewed slowly, not in any sort of hurry this morning. He wanted to lean his head on Giles' lap and be petted, perhaps while Giles worked or read. Just to be soothed for a while.

 

Giles fed Wesley at Wesley's pace, interspersing his own bites while Wesley chewed. His body still felt deeply sated--not surprisingly, as he'd come more in the last 48 hours than he had in the entire previous month. Once they'd finished the meal, Giles had Wesley wait at the desk while he retrieved the shaving things from upstairs. He cleaned the straight razor, cleaned the bowl and refilled it, and took the tray out to the desk.

 

At first, when Wesley saw the shaving equipment, he was going to protest. He'd just been shaven last night, surely Giles didn't intend to go through that again so soon. And then he realized he'd managed a fair growth of stubble on his face, and felt a bit sheepish.

 

Giles put another towel down and had Wesley kneel on it. "Close your eyes," he instructed. When Wesley did so, he tipped Wesley's head back and said, "Don't move."

 

While it wasn't nearly as fraught as having his balls shaven, Wesley realized, his neck was equally vulnerable to the wrong slip of the blade. He kept very still as he felt the first touch of the razor.

 

Giles went slowly, trailing his fingers over the newly bare skin after each swipe of the blade. Shaving Wesley's face was distinctly different experience from shaving his groin: a more familiar activity, for one, and there was something oddly satisfying about clearing each swath of skin, watching the foam drip onto the towel clotted with little black flecks. He eventually worked his way down to Wesley's throat, taking all due care, then wiped the last of the soap from Wesley's face with the flannel and sat back. It was impossible not to smile at the sight Wesley made, arms crossed behind his back, eyes closed and face turned up as though in supplication.

 

"All done," Giles said quietly, once he'd looked his fill.

 

Wesley opened his eyes. The exercise had been oddly soothing, the familiar ritual couched in new terms. Just as with being fed, it made him feel cared for. It meant something that Giles would care enough to do these things, or at least he hoped it did. He wanted it to.

 

Giles smiled warmly at Wesley. "Let's take a shower," he said, brushing his fingers over Wesley's cheek one last time.

 

Wesley stood and went to the bathroom to prepare the shower, then kneeled and waited for Giles to join him.

 

Giles cleared the shaving things and the remains of breakfast, then headed into the shower. He sent Wesley in first and followed him as soon as he shed his pajamas.

 

Wesley stood under the spray and closed his eyes, soaking in the hot water.

 

Giles wrapped his arms around Wesley from behind and caressed his chest, flicking his nipples lightly with his nails til they hardened.

 

Wesley leaned his head back, resting his neck against Giles' body. It felt good to be held, and the gentle stimulation gave him a pleasant buzz, in contrast to the agonized ecstasy of the day before.

 

Giles ran his hands languidly all over Wesley's torso. "Mmm," he whispered in Wesley's ear. "I could spend all day touching you and never get bored. Unfortunately, life must go on..."

 

He reached out and lathered the flannel, the retraced the path of his hands with the soapy cloth.

 

Wesley luxuriated in the washing, putting up no resistance as Giles rubbed all over his body. His cock hardened somewhat, but not enough to draw his attention away from Giles' hands.

 

Giles made Wesley lift his feet one at a time onto the edge of the tub so that he didn't have to crouch or kneel to wash his legs, then finally washed Wesley's genitals and arse. He lingered on Wesley's cock and balls just long enough to bring Wesley to full hardness.

 

Wesley let out a soft whimper. He wasn't used to being constantly aroused, much less for days and without any proper relief.

 

Giles kissed Wesley lightly on the cheek. "If you're very good today, I might be convinced to let you come tonight."

 

"I'll be good, sir," Wesley answered eagerly. "I promise."

 

"See that you are," Giles said mildly. He quickly washed himself, and then they got out of the shower.

 

Wesley cooperated as Giles toweled him off, giving his cock a few rough rubs as he finished.

 

Giles left Wesley kneeling in front of the fireplace while he dressed, then fastened his cuffs back on. "What would you like to do while I work?" he asked.

 

Wesley thought about it. "I could read," he offered. "If you like, I can translate or... or do any kind of research you need. It was what I did before... before," he finished.

 

Giles nodded. "I'm sure that will useful at the library. But is that what you want to do now?"

 

Wesley ducked his head. "There is... I mean, if it's not a bother..."

 

"Spit it out, Wesley," Giles said with gentle amusement.

 

"Could we," he began, quietly. "Could I rest my head in your lap and... and have you... have you pet me?" He blushed, embarrassed about asking for something like this, even after everything they'd done. It was somehow more intimate, even, than being fucked.

 

Giles smiled and nodded. "Yes. I think I'd like that, too."

 

Somehow that made Wesley blush harder. "Thank you, sir," he whispered.

 

Giles gestured for Wesley to get up and come with him. He gathered the things he needed at his desk, then sat down and indicated Wesley should kneel beside him.

 

Wesley did, both eager and nervous about getting what he'd asked for.

 

Giles made sure to sit far enough back from the desk that Wesley could put his head down. It made things a bit awkward, but not unmanageable. When Wesley hesitated uncertainly, Giles gently guided him to fold his legs under him and rest his head against Giles' thigh. Once Wesley was settled, Giles played his fingers through his hair soothingly. "Like this?" he said.

 

"Yes," Wesley sighed, settling in gratefully. He'd never asked for comfort in such a deliberate way, but Lord, it felt good. Wonderful, in fact. "Thank you, sir."

 

"You're welcome," Giles said. He continued to pet Wesley's hair for a few minutes, then turned to his work. He would pause once in a while to pay attention to Wesley again, or touch him idly while he read.

 

Wesley drifted contentedly, entirely happy to rest this way as long as he could. He liked being close to Giles, to be touching him as much as he was allowed. He liked being given attention without having to be the center of it, without having to worry about doing anything wrong, because all he had to do was relax. Each time he was pet it pulled him further into a cozy daze.

 

Hours later, Giles murmured, "Hungry?"

 

He was so entranced that it took Wesley a moment to realize Giles had asked him something. "Yes, sir. A little."

 

"I'll make some lunch," Giles said, pushing Wesley into an upright position. "Don't go anywhere."

 

Wesley sat back on his heels and waited. He felt blissfully relaxed, and his cheek was warm where it had rested on Giles' lap. He hoped they would do this more, and again.

 

Giles prepared two sandwiches and two glasses of water. He gave Wesley one of each and sat down to eat his own. "If you're ever thirsty, don't be afraid to ask for a drink," he said. "I don't want you dehydrated. You'll be much less fun to play with if you're not feeling well." He smiled to let Wesley know he was only partially serious with the last sentence.

 

Wesley nodded, then took a few long sips of water. He was rather thirsty, now that Giles mentioned it.

 

Giles went back to work when he'd finished his sandwich, assuming Wesley would rejoin him when he was done with his own.

 

Wesley swallowed the last of his food and set the empty plate and glass alongside Giles', then settled his head back onto Giles' lap with a sigh.

 

Giles worked for another hour, then sat back with a sigh. "I think that's all I can take of that, today," he said, putting a slip of paper in the book he'd been indexing and pushing it away. He ruffled Wesley's hair affectionately.

 

Wesley smiled softly, blushing again.

 

Careful not to knock Wesley's head on the desk, Giles stood and said cheerfully, "Let's go upstairs. If I'm going to let you come later, you'll have to earn it."

 

"Yes, sir," Wesley said, following behind. He was a bit anxious after the intensity of yesterday, but he still wanted to do well. And he did feel much better now that he'd had some time to recover.

 

Rather than tying Wesley, Giles had him kneel on all fours on the bed. He didn't touch Wesley's cock at first, just sat by him and stroked his back. "This is going to be difficult," he warned. "I'm going to bring you right to the edge and not let you go over. You may make as much noise as you like--I encourage you to--but you mustn't speak. If you beg, I won't let you come at all."

 

Wesley nodded in understanding. His stomach twisted nervously, but he was resolved. He wouldn't beg, no matter how much he wanted to.

 

At Wesley's nod, Giles got the lube out again and slicked one finger, then slid it smoothly into Wesley's arse.

 

Wesley was tender and a bit sore after being fucked last night, and a small noise escaped his throat.

 

Giles didn't try to fuck Wesley with his finger, just found his prostate and rubbed it, using his thumb to press it from the outside, as well.

 

Oh, that felt good. Wesley closed his eyes as the lovely sparks of pleasure overrode any discomfort.

 

It wasn't until Wesley's cock was already achingly hard again that Giles reached down to fondle Wesley's balls with his free hand. "Oh," he sighed. "I do like you shaved..."

 

Wesley made a soft moan of pleasure, wanting to tell Giles how he felt. He moved into Giles' hands, just enough to show his excitement.

 

"Yes," Giles whispered. "Let me hear you." He squeezed Wesley's balls more firmly.

 

"Oh," Wesley moaned, louder this time, enjoying the pressure, especially as the skin there was so sensitive.

 

Giles lingered on Wesley's balls for a while longer before finally moving his hand to Wesley's cock. He stroked it lazily, thumbing the head at the end of each stroke.

 

A familiar edge was starting to seep back into Wesley's arousal. Before Giles, he would have simply hurried his own hand until he came, but now the challenge was in holding back. He let out a series of soft whimpers.

 

Giles made an appreciative noise in response to Wesley's whimpering. "I really do love hearing you beg," Giles confessed. "But you must learn to control yourself. It's ungrateful to plead for something you know you can't have, rather than enjoy what I choose to give you. Of course, when we're at the school you won't even be able to whimper, lest someone hear you."

 

The school. Wesley groaned at the thought of being like this at the school, in fear and anticipation. He had trouble trying to fit the two states together, but in this it was easier that he's been in Sunnydale such a short time. Trying to imagine Giles doing these things to him back home in England was beyond him, but here everything was already strange and new. What was another change, even one as big as this?

 

"Imagine it, Wesley," Giles continued. "I could bend you over my desk and fuck you while the children do their homework at the table. Or perhaps I should fuck you over the table while the Slayers are on patrol, never knowing when they might return."

 

Wesley whimpered, imagining the scene. Imagining being caught, and the Slayer and all her friends seeing him that way. It somehow made him harder, even though his cock was already achingly full.

 

Giles felt Wesley's cock respond in his hand. "You like that idea, don't you?" he said speculatively.

 

Wesley whimpered again, wanting to shake his head. He bit his lip, and then gave a tiny nod, unable to stop himself.

 

"What is it that appeals to you, hmm? Do you want everyone to see who you really are? That you're mine to do with as I please? My pet? My toy?"

 

At the last word Wesley's hips bucked forward, pressing his cock into Giles' hand. Still biting his lip, he let out a stream of low, reluctant whimpers. It was wrong to want that, to want to wallow in this condition Giles was keeping him in, but he did. He wanted to be a good boy, and for everyone to know it, even if being a good boy meant such total sexual degradation.

 

"Well," Giles drawled, "I think we established yesterday how much I wish I could show you off. Do you know how it makes me feel, knowing that your arse belongs only to me? Knowing that no other man ever has or ever will put his cock there? Knowing that you've never sucked any cock but mine? I'll train you well, and maybe someday I'll let you use your skills on other men, just to prove how good you are. But your arse... that's only for me."

 

"Oh God," Wesley gasped, overwhelmed by Giles' words. They were intensely disturbing, but the possessiveness, the feeling of ownership they conveyed, were powerfully erotic. Wesley had never been good enough for anyone to want to keep, had been barely tolerated for all of his life. But Giles would keep him.

 

Giles chuckled darkly at Wesley's response. Impulsively, he leaned down and bit Wesley's arse cheek.

 

Wesley cried out at the bite, more in surprise than pain.

 

Giles dug his teeth in for a brief moment, then let go and soothed the spot with his tongue.

 

The bite mark throbbed--faint in comparison to his cock--but the memory of Giles' teeth in him, marking him, made it far more significant in his mind. It felt like a mark of ownership.


 

PART TEN: Report

 

Giles resumed stroking Wesley's cock, moving his hand faster and squeezing harder. He extracted his finger carefully from Wesley's arse and wiped it on the hem of his shirt.

 

The more his cock was stimulated, the harder Wesley had to fight to hold off his climax. It wasn't as bad as it had been last night, but he could feel himself being pulled closer.

 

Giles let up before Wesley was truly in danger of coming, going slower until he was a bit calmer, then picked up the pace again. He repeated the process several times, pushing Wesley a little closer to orgasm each time.

 

By the time Wesley had been brought close several times over, he was making a continual series of moans and whimpers, and his skin was flushed and damp.

 

Once he could no longer judge precisely when Wesley was getting close to coming, Giles stopped and put the cock ring on him. He fingered Wesley's opening and said, "I only wish I had a plug for you..."

 

Wesley let out a strangled groan, his arousal intensified by the cock ring.

 

Giles ran his hand down Wesley's spine. "I'm not going to let you out of that until your report's written," he said. "If I'm satisfied with your work, then we'll see."

 

Wesley made a questioning moan, too aroused to think properly.

 

"Come on," Giles said, grabbing Wesley under the shoulders and hauling him into a sitting position. "It's time you started learning to deal with this."

 

After a few moments Wesley's head cleared enough to nod that he was all right to continue. Giles helped him up and down the stairs. Every step was a jolt of arousal as his cock bobbed up and down, tugging at the ring.

 

Giles deposited Wesley on his knees in front of the coffee table, then brought him a pen and paper to write his report. He ran his fingers through Wesley's hair and said, "Deep breaths, remember. You'll be all right."

 

It was easier now that he'd stopped moving, but it was still very difficult for Wesley to concentrate. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths, trying to override the sensations in his body with some control in his mind. At last he reached some equilibrium. He started writing, but only reached as far as the first paragraph when he realized a very simple but essential problem. "Giles?" he asked.

 

"Yes?" Giles said.

 

"I don't know what happened last week," Wesley admitted. "With the Slayers."

 

Giles raised his eyebrows. "True." He sat on the sofa and briefly outlined the situation with Faith, and the fact that she was still currently rehabilitating with Angel. "You'll need to clean that up a bit, and insert yourself more. But if you keep it close to reality it will sound more realistic."

 

Wesley felt distantly shocked that all of this had gone on while he was hiding in the library. He didn't know whether to feel utterly inadequate as a Watcher or to be shocked that Faith had killed someone and been turned over to an infamous vampire for rehabilitation. He stared at Giles in disbelief.

 

Giles smiled faintly at Wesley's expression. "It's a bit of an unusual situation, I realize. But I believe we have a chance of keeping Faith on the side of the angels, this way. The deputy mayor's death was accidental, but I believe her guilt over that is causing her to act out in dangerous ways--such as her attempt on Xander's life. Angel is the safest guard for her just now. He has the strength to keep her under control, and he understands her situation at least as well as I do."

 

"I see," Wesley said, mind racing to take all of it in. He didn't believe Giles was wrong, exactly. It was just that what he was saying went counter to so much of Wesley's training. By all rights Giles should have contacted the Council and had Faith brought to England... but then Giles wasn't officially a Watcher anymore, and Wesley had been in such a state that Giles hadn't even bothered to ask him to make the call. "Is it working?" he asked, curious.

 

Giles nodded. "I think so."

 

"Oh," Wesley said. "That's good, then." He stared at his paper, trying to think of how to word all of that without being immediately fired for incompetence. He probably deserved it, but still. If nothing else, he didn't think Giles wanted the Council to send another Watcher here, or to have Wesley forced to return to England. "Perhaps... perhaps we shouldn't include all of that," he said, thoughtfully.

 

"I think not," Giles agreed.

 

Wesley nodded. He thought carefully for a few minutes, and then slowly began to write. Deciding to stick with some vague semblance of truth, he explained that Faith had been insubordinate, rather than murderous, and that he had applied the proper punishment as outlined in the Handbook. He also added that Buffy had acted maturely, as from Giles' account she certainly had. He decided to leave Giles' name out of it entirely, as it had been made clear to him when he was given the post that he was to brook no interference on Giles' part. Incredibly ironic, in hindsight. He finished the report and handed it to Giles for inspection.

 

Giles took the pen and made a few corrections, suggested that Wesley not have Faith be entirely cooperative with the punishment, and handed it back to Wesley.

 

Wesley rewrote the report, then signed his name with his usual flourish at the bottom.

 

Giles looked the report over and nodded in satisfaction. He got an envelope and let Wesley address it. "We'll airmail it tomorrow," he said.

 

"Yes, sir," Wesley said. He prepared the envelope and placed the report inside. When he handed it to Giles it was with a hopeful look. He wanted to know if he'd done a satisfactory job.

 

Giles laughed fondly at Wesley's expression. "Yes, I'll take the cock ring off now." He moved to do so.

 

"Giles?" Wesley asked. "I don't suppose... do you have to take it off?"

 

Giles' eyebrows shot up. "You don't want me to?"

 

"You just put it on," Wesley said. "And... I, well..." He ducked his head, squirming at the difficulty of explaining.

 

"What?" Giles prompted, curious.

 

"I like it," Wesley said, barely above a whisper. "It feels like... like you're holding me." He blushed darkly, terribly embarrassed at the admission.

 

"Then you needn't take it off yet," Giles said. "Though if you stay hard, I'll have to remove it eventually to be sure it doesn't hurt you."

 

Wesley nodded. When he could finally bear to, he looked up to Giles. "Thank you, sir."

 

Giles nodded, and went to get Wesley some water, knowing he'd need it after so much stimulation.

 

Now that the distraction of the report was out of the way, the sensations in Wesley's body came back fully. He wasn't as hard as he'd been upstairs, but the ring had kept him pleasantly aroused and erect. He reached up to touch one of his nipples, wanting to stimulate them as Giles had, but instead he put his hands behind his back, clasping one in the other. He didn't want to risk the chance to come tonight, even if such actions hadn't been expressly forbidden.

 

Giles helped Wesley to drink, and then sat down on the coffee table next to him and pet his hair some more. "Do you think you can handle my cock again tonight?" he asked.

 

"Yes, sir," Wesley said, eagerly. "Please."

 

"Good," Giles said. "After dinner I've a bit of a treat for you."

 

Wesley smiled, pleased and expectant. "Thank you, sir."

 

Giles nodded in acknowledgement. He stretched briefly, then looked at Wesley again. "Well," he said, "I was going to give you a respite until dinner, but as you don't want the ring off..."

 

Wesley perked up. "Yes?"

 

"Is there anything else I can do to reward your good work?" Giles asked. "Nothing too extreme, of course..."

 

Wesley thought carefully. This was the first time he was being given a choice of pleasures, and he wasn't sure what to choose. He craved something, though, body already awakened from their earlier session. Then he had an idea. "Could I touch you?" he asked, curious.

 

Giles considered that for a moment. He preferred not to allow Wesley to touch him, but as a reward he thought he could allow it. "Touch me how?" he asked.

 

"I've never really..." Wesley began. "I mean, I've seen other men naked, but to touch... however would pleasure you..."

 

Giles nodded understandingly. "Shall we go back upstairs?" he suggested, thinking they'd be comfortable in bed.

 

Wesley nodded, and Giles lead him upstairs. Wesley realized with some anxiety that this was the first time he'd be trying to take any sort of lead--blowjob excepted, and that had been more him following step-by-step instructions than anything else. He didn't want to upset Giles by doing the wrong thing. Perhaps he shouldn't have asked for this after all.

 

Wesley sat on the bed, and rather than join him, Giles took Wesley's face in his hands and looked down at him seriously. "There are a few things you should understand," he said. "Most importantly, you are never to put your hands on my cock or balls, or any part of my arse. Is that clear?" When Wesley agreed, he continued, "The rest of me you may only touch with permission, which I'm granting for now. If you abuse the privilege, it will be revoked and I'll punish you in whatever manner I feel appropriate."

 

When Giles finished, Wesley's stomach twisted anxiously. He was certain he'd done the wrong thing now, that Giles didn't want this, that he was ruining everything with his stupidity. "I'm sorry," he blurted out. "I shouldn't have asked. It's not my place to ask. I'm sorry." He looked down, afraid Giles was going to be mad at him now, for wasting his time and irritating him.

 

Giles forced Wesley's chin back up and gave him an exasperated look. "Did I say I minded you asking?"

 

"No," Wesley said, slowly. "But..."

 

"Don't assume I mean things I don't say, Wesley. You'll get yourself in more trouble that way than by speaking your mind." Giles stared at Wesley until he was sure Wesley comprehended what he was saying.

 

Wesley wasn't entirely certain he hadn't just made two punishable mistakes in a row, but at least he could stop himself from making any more. "Yes, sir," he said, quietly.

 

Giles accepted Wesley's agreement and stepped away to undress. His self-consciousness returned in full force but he ignored it. He'd promised Wesley this, after all. He undressed and climbed into bed, leaning back on his elbow so Wesley could look. The only thing differentiating him from Wesley at the moment was the cuffs on Wesley's wrists and ankles.

 

Wesley's anxiety lessened as he stared at Giles, taking him in. He reached out a hand, hesitant but interested, and then paused. "May I touch your chest, sir?" he asked.

 

Giles nodded, watching Wesley's hand with fascination.

 

Wesley pressed his palm against Giles' chest, feeling the tickle of the crisp hairs and the heat of his body. He swallowed, then curled his fingers lightly, blunt fingernails, scratching lightly as his fingers stroked downwards. Wesley's own chest hair was significantly more sparse and fine.

 

Giles' eyelids fell half closed and he had to force himself to breathe as Wesley's fingers trailed down his chest. It tickled a bit, but that wasn't really the problem. Having someone else touch him so sensually had become such a foreign concept that it was hard to wrap his mind around it.

 

After a few minutes of this, Wesley asked, quietly, "May I touch your nipples, sir?"

 

Giles hesitated, then nodded again. "Go ahead."

 

Wesley slowly brought his thumb up and rubbed it against Giles' left nipple, watching in fascination as it hardened. Then he tried a light, experimental pinch, remembering how Giles had touched his own nipples before.

 

Giles blinked is surprise. "Don't," he said, his voice soft but definite.

 

Wesley pulled his hand back abruptly. "Sorry," he said, pressing it against his chest. "If you like, I... I'm happy with that much," he said, giving Giles the option of ending his reward now.

 

"You're fine," Giles said, his voice still soft. "Just don't pinch." He settled onto his back, a more comfortable position.

 

Wesley nodded. His fear of upsetting Giles had taken most of the enjoyment out of his reward, but not all of it. He didn't know if he would have the opportunity again, so he would take what he could. "May I touch your arms?" he asked.

 

"Yes," Giles said.

 

Wesley ran his hands along one and then the other, feeling the strength in them. Then he let go, feeling terribly awkward. "Is there anything that I could do that you would enjoy?" he asked. He hoped there was, because he didn't know what to do with himself otherwise. It was so much easier when he was bound, easier not to touch Giles the wrong way when he couldn't touch him at all.

 

Giles sighed. "I don't know, I..." He reached out suddenly and tugged Wesley down to lie alongside him.

 

Wesley lay down on the bed, surprised.

 

Giles pulled Wesley close, wrapping his arms around him. "Sorry," he said. "I..." He couldn't find the words to explain why it was so hard to let someone touch him.

 

Very slowly, so that Giles could stop him before he did anything unwanted, Wesley wrapped an arm across Giles, in the lightest of hugs.

 

Giles shuddered and took a deep breath, trying to force himself to relax. He turned his face so he could kiss the top of Wesley's head, feeling unaccountably grateful for Wesley's presence, then lay back again.

 

Wesley wasn't quite sure what was going on anymore, but Giles seemed to like it. He strengthened the hug a bit and snuggled against Giles, relaxing into it himself.

 

Giles ran his fingers idly up and down Wesley's spine. He was fighting the urge to get angry with himself over not being able to handle this, and gradually winning. The last person who had touched him so intimately had been Angelus, and he still couldn't think very hard about that without becoming severely upset.

 

When Giles started stroking his back, Wesley finally was able to stop worrying. He sighed softly and curled his leg to rest against Giles' thigh, letting himself melt against him.

 

Giles closed his eyes as Wesley relaxed and drifted into a half-asleep state, prepared to wake up again at any moment.

 

Wesley was very content, feeling closer to Giles now than he had since he'd met him, holding and being held. Despite this being entirely unexpected, it was perfect, wonderfully perfect. It was the best reward, better than anything he could have asked for. He relished the moment, taking it all in, but eventually he too drifted into a shallow doze, with a lazy smile on his face.

 

continued

 


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