If Truth Be Told
written by Jane Davitt


Rating: FRAO
Spoilers: Takes place during Season 4 of BtvS when Spike was kept in Giles' bathtub.
Pairing: Giles/Spike/Wesley
Summary: With Spike in Giles' bathtub, Wesley's unexpected visit leads to complications as they all get drunk and somehow naked.
Feedback Author: Jane Davitt
Author's Website: Jane Davitt.Com



Giles sank onto the couch and took a long, slow swallow of whisky. It might not cure the world’s ills but it was making him feel better. His mouth was still experiencing the pleasant tingle from a malt blended to perfection when a knock at the door shattered the illusion of peace.

Giles swore under his breath and pulled himself up wearily. No one he knew ever bothered to knock which meant that it was someone he didn’t want to see. At least he could rule out a demon. Like the Scoobies, they tended toward the ‘mi casa es su casa’ approach. For the first time that evening, but not the last, Giles was wrong.

“Wesley? Good Lord! What brings you here? Please, come in.”

His former colleague smiled. “Forgotten the first rule, Giles?”

Giles raised an eyebrow and then smiled back as he took Wesley’s meaning. “Good rule but if you turn your head – yes, there. You show up nicely in the mirror I hung to reflect the doorway.”

Wesley nodded, pleased that the first awkward moments had been smoothed over so easily. Giles showed him to a seat, poured him a glass of single malt and sat down with an expectant look.

Wesley sipped appreciatively and then began to speak, his eyes fixed on the amber liquid in the glass he held. “I haven’t seen you for a while, have I?”

“No. You left Sunnydale as soon as the hospital released you. I was a little – surprised that you didn’t stop by to make your farewells.”

Wesley looked over at him. “You were? I didn’t know that. I’m sorry. I made such a bloody mess of things from start to finish that I’m afraid I ended my time here as I began it – by taking the easy way out.”

Giles frowned, his eyes sharp as he studied Wesley. “I think you’re being a little hard on yourself. We didn’t get off to a good start and you made some spectacular mistakes but –”

Wesley grimaced. “Please. Don’t remind me.”

“But you came through in the end,” Giles finished. “You fought beside the Slayer in one of her more spectacular battles and acquitted yourself –”

His voice trailed off and Wesley smiled bitterly. “Cordelia killed more vampires than I did.”

“She only staked one...oh.”

“It doesn’t matter, Giles. I haven’t come here for reassurance.”

“Bloody good job. I’ve got enough on my hands right now,” Giles said bluntly. “Besides, from what I gather, you’re being of considerable assistance to Angel.”

Wesley’s shoulders straightened. “Yes, I think if you leave off the adjective that’s a fair and accurate description.”

Their eyes met and the tension dissipated in a shared smile. “Still brooding, is he?”

“Oh, my, yes.”

Giles picked up the bottle and walked over to refresh Wesley’s drink. Wes glanced up with a nod of thanks and Giles felt a tug of affection that startled him with its intensity. Wes was so like what he had been, could have been, might have been. Watching him change and grow had been fascinating. Having him leave so abruptly had hurt him more than he cared to admit, but that had been drowned in the greater hurt of finding himself sidelined and unemployed. Wesley was still fighting. He’d virtually retired. Fighting back the urge to sit down on the chair beside Wes, he retreated to the couch.

“You know, this whiskey is a real treat but I am driving –”

“No; you must stop the night. Really. It’s no trouble.”

Wesley smiled. “Thank you. I won’t even pretend that I didn’t hope you’d say that. However, I’d still like to beg for a cup of tea. I know you’ll be able to make a proper pot, unlike these revoltingly soggy teabags on strings they give you over here.”

Giles laughed. “Of course. I’ll go and put the kettle on.”

Over the rush of water he heard Wes call out but it wasn’t until he’d turned off the tap that the words registered. When they did he groaned and turned but it was too late. By the time he reached the bathroom Spike already had Wes against the ropes.

“You scream like a –”

“Finish that sentence and I dust you where you lie, vampire!”

“Like a Ragnith demon.”

“Ah. Fair enough. Known for their fierce, warrior like battle cries aren’t they?”

“No. Everyone agrees they scream like girls.”

“Why, you!”

Giles sighed and Wesley whirled around, his eyes flashing indignantly. “You have a vampire chained in your bath tub!” Giles’ expression was sufficient to make him flush. “Well, yes, I suppose that’s not exactly news, is it. But you have to admit it’s unusual.”

“It’s a bloody pain in the arse,” Giles said, giving Spike a look of resigned loathing. “However, there are excellent reasons for it, even though they escape me on an hourly basis, so I’d be grateful – God, it hurts to say it – if you didn’t stake Spike. We need him.”

Spike smirked, his eyes going between the two men with a speculative gleam. “Going to introduce us, Rupert? And am I included in the bevvies? I’ll take whatever’s going in a nice warm mug of blood. Spiked blood. Ha. Get it?”

Giles cast his eyes up in despair. “Blood, yes. My alcohol, no. Wesley, this is Spike. Spike this is Wesley. I think you’ve both heard about each other so that should suffice.”

He turned to leave and was stopped by Wesley’s hand on his arm. “Giles, I really need to pee – and well, I don’t need an audience. Does he stay in there all the time?”

“Oh, yes.” Spike said, a wide smile on his face. “All the time. Shocking really what the Watcher gets up to with his rubber duck.”

“Spike, don’t push it.” Giles gave Wesley a rather impatient look. “He has a chair I use when I need to shower but it’s a real performance getting the chains undone. Are you sure you can’t – oh, never mind. Spike, you get to come out but you’re going right back in, understand?”

“After my blood,” Spike said firmly. “Need to stretch my legs as well.”

When Wesley emerged from the bathroom, Spike and Giles were facing each other, mere inches separating them, identical looks of frustration and – was it relish?- on their faces.

“ – is not open to negotiation, Spike! Sit down and let me tie you up, or I’ll –”

“What? You’ll do what exactly, Rupert? Staking me’s not allowed and you wouldn’t hit a defence – ow!”

Wesley’s slightly embarrassed cough had them both turning to him and he flinched slightly. “I’m done, so if you want to just put Spike back...”” he offered weakly.

“No!” Spike said, folding his arms. “Been in there for hours. I’m bored stiff and stiff as a board. I want a time out. Promise I won’t try and escape.”

“That’s less of an inducement than you seem to suppose,” Giles said sourly, but clearly resigning himself to the inevitable. “Very well. Sit down and shut up.” He turned to Wesley. “I’m so sorry, Wesley. Just pretend he isn’t there. Now what was it we were talking about? Oh, yes. Tea.”

“Tea?” Spike spluttered with laughter and then subsided as Giles glared at him.

“On second thought, I might stick with the whiskey,” Wesley said, meeting Spike’s challenging stare. “Giles, what is he doing here?”

“More to the point,” Giles said, as they both sank back into their seats, “what are you?”

Wesley’s gaze slid past Giles to Spike, sitting outside the informal circle of sofa and chairs, but far from out of earshot. Spike smiled slowly as comprehension dawned.

“Well, why didn’t you just say you have a date, Giles? I’d have buggered off somewhere and left you in peace. Not like you get lucky more than once a decade, is it now.”

Giles and Wesley’s eyes met for one charged, hot moment of sheer embarrassment and then they spoke as one. “It’s not a date!”

Spike stood and strolled over to them, perching nonchalantly on the arm of the couch. “Excuse me? Did you just say what I thought you said?”

“I believe that line would be more appropriate from us,” Giles said. “And get back to your chair.”

Spike ignored the last part and smirked down at Giles. “Say it again, Giles. Tell me you don’t have the hots for young Wes here. Tell me you didn’t just try to lie to me.”

“Of course I don’t, and that has to be the most ridiculous – why are you laughing?”

“I know,” said Wesley, staring down into his mostly empty glass and tilting it from side to side as though hypnotised by the shifting liquid. “It was covered in the Council newsletter. Issue 34, I believe.”

“You read that drivel?” Giles exclaimed. “Good Lord, I just throw mine in the bin as soon as it arrives.”

“I noticed,” Wesley said, flicking him a glance. “And yes, I do read them. If you had, you might have known about Gwendolyn Post.”

Giles accepted the reproof with good grace and then said, “So what earth shattering discovery was chronicled in that issue?”

“Vampires can smell a lie,” Spike put in. He glanced at Wesley who nodded reluctantly. “Taken you bloody long enough to cop to that, but we’ve still got a few tricks up our sleeve, I’ll wager.” He slid down beside Giles and stretched out his legs, thrusting his hips up in a move that drew both men’s gaze but which was, for once unstudied.

“I don’t believe a word of it,” Giles said flatly. “The Council has its head up its bloody arse but I refuse to accept that it’s sunk so low as to endorse myths like that.”

“It’s a complex assessment of physiological changes,” Wesley explained, looking wretchedly uncomfortable. “Your body reacts to a lie and a vampire, with its heightened senses, can, in some circumstances, detect the changes.”

“Some circumstances,” Giles said, latching onto salvation with a death grip. “Spike, you’re either making trouble or your chip is having an effect on more than your ability to be violent.”

“Chip?” Wesley said, raising his eyebrows and momentarily distracted from his churning emotions. He couldn’t allow himself to believe that Giles -

“Bloody soldiers,” Spike explained, eager for a fresh audience. “Operated on me. Diabolical infringement of my civil liberties –”

“Oh God,” Giles sighed, rolling his eyes. “Here we go again.”

“ – and put this sodding chip in my skull. Can’t feed, can’t so much as thump someone without this pain ripping through me. God, it’s unbelievable.” He waited, in vain, for outpourings of sympathy and then sniffed as Wesley’s steady gaze showed nothing but distant approval of his condition. “Fine. Be on the side of the folks who’ll have you out of a job by Christmas.”

Wesley looked at Giles who shrugged. “They do seem remarkably efficient at hunting demons, but I’d back Buffy against them any day,” he said, with more conviction that loyalty. He really didn’t trust that lot at all.

Spike sensed that the conversation was drifting and brought it back to a more amusing topic.

“So, you think I can’t do it then, Watcher?”

“What? Oh... be a walking lie detector. Certainly not.”

“I’ll prove it,’ said Spike. “In return for a drink. Very rude of you two to sit there necking back the booze and not offer me some.”

“Wesley is a guest. You’re an infestation.”

“That’s what you call ‘em these days, is it?” Spike murmured, with a wicked grin.

Giles’ lips thinned and he stood, got a glass of whiskey for Spike to shut him up, and refilled his and Wesley’s glasses while he was at it. Spike studied the small measure sadly and then downed it in one.

“Good stuff. Right. I’ll ask you a question, you answer and I’ll tell you if you’re lying. Wes here can write it down. If I can get say eight out of ten –”

“Ten out of ten,” Giles said firmly.

“That’s not very fair,” Wesley said. He looked at Giles apologetically. “You could tell Spike he’s wrong and we’d have no way of knowing.”

“Well, thank you, Wesley,” Giles muttered.

“It’s simple enough,” Wesley said, refusing to feel hurt at Giles’ disappointed look. “I’ll ask the questions; things I know the answers to but Spike couldn’t possibly.”

“What? No!”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Spike said, over Giles’ indignant refusal and taking advantage of the situation to casually appropriate the bottle of malt and pour generous refills. Giles and Wesley were so intent on each other that they barely noticed. “Off you go, lad.”

Giles tensed as Wesley sat rapt in thought for a while, taking frequent sips at his drink. This was futile. Spike knew he’d made an accurate guess and Wesley seemed to have elevated that bloody rag of Travers’ to Holy Writ. Giles took slight comfort in the fact that neither of them were howling with laughter or, in Wesley’s case, stalking toward the door, outraged and disturbed. The fact that Wesley, at least, seemed well on the way to being drunk, might have had something to do with it. Giles tried to drink from an empty glass, gave it a puzzled look and then nodded in automatic thanks as Spike refilled his glass.

Wesley glanced over and smiled shyly at Giles who found himself flushing as he let his concerned scowl soften in reply. The urge to kick Spike out into the night and make Wesley smile with pleasure was very strong. Then Spike shifted beside him and Giles found himself studying the vampire’s scarred eyebrow and wanting to trace that interrupted line with finger and tongue before moving down to – Christ, stop it, you pathetic fool, he chided himself. One’s not interested and the other would use it as a weapon.

“Did you own a dog named Benjy?” Wesley began.

Giles opened his mouth to deny such a hideous suggestion and then sighed. “I’m attracted to you, Wesley. There’s no need to continue with all this. I’ll... you can let yourself out. If you wouldn’t mind just chaining Spike up for me?”

He stood, avoiding their looks of surprise and began to walk past Spike. A hand shot out and grabbed at him. Spike’s fingers hooked inside Giles’ belt and pulled him back so that he landed sprawled on the couch with his legs across Spike’s lap.

“What the hell are you playing at?” Giles demanded, struggling to sit up.

“Could ask you the same thing, mate.”

Spike’s voice was unexpectedly free from gibe and Giles twisted to face him, his body stilling. “I don’t –”

Spike nodded his head in Wesley’s direction. “You never asked if he was lying too. When I said it was a date. He knew it wasn’t... but he wanted it to be, didn’t you, Wesley?”

Giles couldn’t stand not being able to see Wesley’s face. Putting his hand flat against Spike’s chest, he pushed away and rolled to the floor, scrambling up hastily. Wesley was staring at Spike, lips parted, eyes wild with shock.

“Wesley?” Giles said hesitantly. “Why did you come here tonight?”

Wesley stood and went to Giles. “To see you. Nothing more, I swear. I just – I just wanted to see you.”

Giles found himself looking at Spike and Wesley’s sharp gasp of panic only made Spike’s smile wider.

“Wanted to see you naked, more like,” Spike said off handedly. “Want me to tell you how he strips, pet?” He raised an eyebrow and Wesley began to stammer words that never achieved coherency.

“Spike," Giles said wearily. “I haven’t drunk enough to find you amusing, nor to make me doubt my ability to inflict considerable pain upon your skinny arse. So, for the last time, sit down, shut up and –”

“Tell me,” Wesley said abruptly, taking a defiant swig at his drink. “How the hell do you know anyway?”

Giles threw up his hands and headed for the bottle. It was about the only thing in the room that wasn’t changing in incomprehensible ways with every passing moment.

“Seen him in the shower... seen him getting dressed... seen him from top to toe.” Spike let his gaze run appraisingly over Giles, slumped across the couch and sipping moodily at his drink. “Not bad. Not bad at all. I’d give him one. If he asked. Which he never did,” he added kindly, doing his feeble best to reassure Wesley who was looking slapped with a wet fish stunned.

“I wouldn’t lay a finger on your cold, dead, scrawny body if you begged me, Spike,” Giles said.

Spike achieved a creditable sneer for someone with a mouthful of whiskey, swallowed it and, swaying slightly, said bluntly, “Bollocks. Even Wesley knows that’s a bloody lie.” He turned to Wesley who had sat down again and appealed to him: “He knows I’ve got nowhere to go, knows I can’t bite him – and he chains me up as far away from his bed as he can get me. What does that say?”

Wesley shrugged, drank, and shrugged again. “Wants to fuck you?” he hazarded.

“Go to the head of the class, pet. Understandable. I’m the ultimate forbidden fruit to your type, aren’t I?” Giles snorted with laughter at the unintentional pun and Spike played back his words and grinned too. “That’s better, Giles. Relax. Might be dead on patrol tomorrow, after all. Watchers don’t make old bones, do they now?”

“Some do,” Wesley objected.

“You and Giles are too much the hero type,” Spike said cynically. “Blaze of glory men. Boring, joyless, uptight blaze of –”

“What are you trying to do, Spike?” Wesley said. “Playing Cupid? Trying to get rid of me? Annoying Giles ‘til he stakes you? What?”

His voice was slower but he was still speaking clearly and his eyes, though hazy, were still surprisingly sharp. Giles emerged from a fog of introspection and drawled, “Good questions, Wesley. Cross examine the annoying git.”

Spike went over to the couch, grabbed Giles by the front of his sweater, hauled him up effortlessly and kissed him with careful thoroughness before letting him go so that Giles fell backward. Two long strides took him to Wesley’s chair and he stared down at him before crooking one finger imperiously. Wesley rose like a hooked fish, breathing rapidly, and Spike kissed him with an impatience that rode over any hesitancy Wesley might have shown until all that was left was a hunger for more.

Spike stepped back and looked at them both. “That just about covers my evil plans, gentlemen.” He waved a hand at Giles. “Been wanting to fuck you for days.” He turned to face Wesley. “You’re a bonus.”

“I’m going to kill you, Spike,” Giles announced, getting to his feet and looking dangerously unpredictable. “Buffy will quite understand.”

“Kill me for fancying you? No wonder you have a non existent love life.”

“For making Wesley ...”

Giles’ voice faltered as he looked at Wesley. None of the adjectives he’d been intending to use seemed to fit. Wesley looked stunned, yes, with an expression that Giles suspected mirrored his own of a minute ago, but he didn’t look embarrassed or upset or -

“Hard,” Spike said, with a casual downward glance. “Like you,” he said, letting his eyes track left to Giles. “And me,” he discovered. “Handy, that.”

Giles was left wordless. Too much, too fast and that didn’t just refer to the consumption of whiskey. Wesley cleared his throat. “You want to,” he hesitated and then said very carefully, as if it was a word in a demon language and he had to say it correctly or suffer terrible consequences, “fuck me? And Giles? Together? At the same time. With all of us naked and, oh God, I think I’m going to throw up.”

“Do your plans get that reaction often, Spike?” Giles murmured wickedly, his sense of humour defusing his anger.

Spike ignored him and said softly, “Wes? Look at me. That’s right. You can be sick after I’ve fucked you, O.K? Not before. Not during. After. And by then you won’t have the energy, trust me. Take a deep breath. Giles, get the lad some water.”

Wesley shook his head. “I’m fine. Sorry. Just – Giles?”

Giles met his look of appeal and then sighed faintly, went to him and kissed him gently. Wesley’s mouth was warm against his and it opened to his tongue without hesitation, robbing Giles of any desire to stop, pull back, and salvage dignity or anything similar. Do anything but carry on kissing him, really, with an option to explore the rest of Wes’ body, with nothing but his mouth, for endless amounts of time until Wesley was quivering, needy and hot and Giles could spoil him, indulge him and give him everything he’d been begging for for so long in that raw, hoarse whisper that was all he had strength for because –

In the moment between Wesley moving from biting Giles’ lip to moving down to nip and kiss his way along the curve of his neck, Giles became aware of something odd. One of Wesley’s hands was on Giles’ shoulder, the fingers curled, nails digging in deeply, as though he were afraid that Giles would pull away. Wesley’s other hand had moved slowly, tentatively, daringly downward, until it was resting lightly against Giles’ backside. Two hands accounted for and Giles knew where his own were because through the thin shirt that Wesley was wearing his left hand could feel Wesley’s back and his right was exploring the contours of Wesley’s arse with a lot less hesitancy than Wesley was showing.

Which meant that the fingers working deftly to undo Giles’ trousers belonged to Spike.

Giles hadn’t thought that anything short of fire in the house would have had the power to distract him from Wesley’s kisses but cool fingers wrapped around his suddenly exposed cock did the trick quite nicely.

“Sorry to interrupt,” said Spike, not sounding in the least bit truthful as he released Giles and moved to perform the same service on an unresisting Wesley, “but I was feeling left out.”

Giles and Wesley both looked at him. Spike had taken off his shirt and undone his jeans so that they clung to his hips, waiting to be tugged off him. The contrast between the dark, rough material of his jeans and the smooth paleness of bared flesh was striking.

For a long moment there was silence, as if all three were waiting for a voice to counsel caution, a knock at the door, a bolt from the heavens. None came and really, Giles thought later, when they’d got to the point that his hard, naked cock was about two inches away from Wesley’s, the point of no return was a receding speck in the distance anyway.

“Spike,” Giles said, “I suppose asking you to go away is futile?”

“No,” Spike said, surprising them both. “Never was one for pushing in where I wasn’t wanted.” He skinned the jeans down, stepping out of them without once taking his eyes off Giles’ face. “’Course, maybe I could be wrong about that. You tell me.”

Wesley made a choked sound at the sight of Spike naked and Giles sighed with resignation. “I think we want you, Spike. I also think we’re all completely insane, but it’s a little late for second thoughts.” Giles pulled his sweater off, didn’t even bother trying to keep his stomach muscles taut and began to take off his trousers. Wesley looked between them both and swallowed, seemingly unable to move. Spike went to him, running his hand across Giles’ chest as he walked past him and then smiling at Wesley. “You’re wishing this was a dream?”

“No,” Wesley said. “I’m hoping it’s not.”

Spike’s brows lifted in amused respect. “Well, good for you. Now get undressed.”

“Don’t rush him,” Giles said. He exchanged a glance with Spike and nodded once. Spike sank to his knees and dealt with Wesley’s trousers as Giles unbuttoned Wesley’s shirt with unhurried deliberation. At the exact moment Spike’s mouth closed over the head of Wesley’s cock, Giles slid the shirt down, trapping Wesley’s arms, and kissed him hard, so that Wesley’s moan of pleasure was silenced by his lips.

Giles gave Wesley’s shirt one last tug and then all three were naked. Wesley’s hand came up and Giles’s eyes half closed as his cock was taken and squeezed gently. Wesley’s inexperienced caresses were frustratingly light but Giles genuinely didn’t know what he was going to do next and that uncertainty was as arousing as the touch itself.

The position wasn’t exactly awkward but it was limited. Giles reached down and stroked Spike’s head and then tugged gently enough at his hair. Spike let Wesley’s cock slip from his mouth and looked up, “What?” he said.

“Upstairs,” Giles said, brushing a kiss over Wesley’s lips in apology for making Spike stop.

Spike pursed his lips and then shrugged agreeably before standing up. Giles moved away from Wesley and tilted Spike’s chin up with one finger. “You will behave, Spike. Understood?”

“Do I have a choice?” Spike said.

“I don’t suppose you do, but even so.” Spike looked vaguely hurt and Giles gave into the pity that he’d felt ever since hearing about the chip. Oh, certainly his first reaction had been relief and a certain, mildly malicious, satisfaction but there was something obscene about what had been done to him. Buffy staked vampires; she didn’t torture them. There was a difference. So he reached for Spike and kissed him until he was fairly certain Spike wasn’t feeling anything but an overwhelming need to come.

The trip upstairs had the quality of a dream. Giles led the way, wondering if he’d even made the bed that morning and if the lube in the bedside cabinet would be viewed as fortuitous or suspect. They crowded into the room and the bed, rumpled but not too badly, beckoned, embraced and received them.

The dream broke on the rocks of reality when Wesley, who had, by mutual consent on the part of Giles and Spike been placed in the middle, said casually, “So, you two have done this a lot then?”

Spike’s hand froze on Wesley’s thigh and Giles halted his own attempt to kiss Wesley before Spike did.

“Narrow it down, pet,” Spike suggested. “You talking just about what we’re doing or the numbers involved?”

“Both,” Wesley said, struggling up onto his elbows and looking at them.

Giles scratched his neck reflectively. “Not since before you were born, actually, Wes. That goes for both, though if I’m going to be honest, the times there were more than two of us, I was usually, ah...”

“Stoned? Drunk?”

“Both, and add in some magic,” Giles admitted. “Little bit hazy on the details certainly. How about you?”

“A century ago at least. Dru didn’t take kindly to sharing and once Angelus left, well, it was just us, wasn’t it? On my part at least,” he added bitterly.

“Before that?” Giles probed, his Watcher’s curiosity sparked. “When you were travelling together, the four of you?”

Spike’s eyes clouded. “Now and then we’d all get together, but if you mean me and Angelus, it wasn’t much more than another way for him to torment me. Don’t want to talk about it.”

Wesley bit his lip. “He’s not like that any more,” he offered. Giles and Spike both looked unconvinced. “He’s been very...”

“You say ‘kind’ and I’ll –”

“Spike...” Giles said warningly.

“What? Little virgin here thinks he knows what it’s like to be on the receiving end of Angelus in a filthy mood –”

“I’m not,” Wesley said. “I’ve done this before.” He looked at them both, a ghost of the smug smile Giles remembered on his lips. “And there were three of us,” he added for good measure.

“Really?” Spike drawled. “Then why were you practically bloody shaking in your boots downstairs?”

Wesley glanced down, a flush rising on his thin face. “Because before it wasn’t anyone I cared about. Just two lads at school who thought it would be... amusing to seduce me and make me – look, I don’t want to talk about that either.” The smugness had long fled and Wesley’s eyes darkened with anger and disgust.

“Fine by me,” Spike said, a low growl underlying his words. “Sound like a right pair of fucking prats.”

Wesley’s face lightened at Spike’s sympathy and the comforting touch of Giles’ hand on his shoulder. “Giles, you’re different. You know that. I came here to see you and I was bloody terrified of what you’d say but I couldn’t keep on pretending I wasn’t missing you, but God, I was nervous – and Spike, you’re a bloody vampire. How could I not be shaking when you’d got your fangs wrapped around my –”

“Teeth, not fangs,” Spike protested.

“Keep it like that,” Giles said. “And unless you’ve got any more questions, Wesley, I can think of better things you can be doing with your mouth.”

Wesley didn’t hesitate. In a smooth, unexpected movement, he rolled onto his stomach and began to move very slowly down the bed, turning his head left and right and kissing whatever part of Giles and Spike was within reach. When he got level with their cocks, it was Giles’ turn to be kissed and he waited to see if Wesley would tease him with another fleeting brush of his warm lips before turning to Spike. He could feel the trail of kisses Wesley had left burning his skin and he met Spike’s eyes in an unspoken plea. Spike smiled and leaned forward so that he could kiss Giles. “You can have him to yourself,” he whispered against Giles’ lips.

Wesley must have heard him, because he murmured, “In that case...” and pushed Giles onto his back, spreading his legs and kneeling between them. Spike reached for a pillow and pushed it behind Giles’ shoulders so that he could see Wesley without craning his neck and then watched them expectantly, letting his hand drift down to touch his own erection.

Giles couldn’t help closing his eyes for a moment as Wesley’s hand took hold of his cock and his tongue swirled around the head, but he made an effort to open them again. The sight of Wesley’s serious face as he concentrated on what he was doing was too good to miss. Nothing Wesley was doing was new but Giles was discovering that it made all the difference who was doing it to him – another reason to keep his eyes open, not to drift into the comforting familiarity of a nightly fantasy where the body against, under or over his own was faceless and safe.

Wesley, over eager and ambitious – not that Giles was complaining all that much – took Giles’ cock in too far and gagged, choking as his throat closed against the intrusion. Spike slid towards them, stroking Wesley’s bowed back comfortingly. “Take it easy,” he advised. “Takes practice.”

Wesley sat back and wiped his hand across his mouth. “Show me?” he suggested.

Giles felt every muscle in his body lock as he bit back the urge to say ‘no’. Or possibly ‘yes’...It didn’t matter. Spike and Wesley changed places, with a lingering kiss that was as arousing to watch as it appeared to be for the participants, and the dark head was replaced by the blond.

Giles listened, unbelieving, as Spike began to lecture Wesley, using far too few practical examples.

“ – now some people don’t like this, but, oh yeah, see Giles balls twitch then? He likes it, all right...”

“Spike!” Giles moderated his tone and settled for a glare. “Get on with it, before I stake you.”

Wesley shook his head in reproof. “That’s not very polite, Giles. Spike’s only trying to help.”

“And you didn’t say ‘please’,” Spike added with a stern look.

Giles tightened his lips and looked very, very English before remembering his equally English and therefore immune audience.

“Two of you and I’m getting less action than I do on my own,” he muttered.

“Well, if you’re going to sulk about it, Wesley can just show me what he’s learned,” Spike said, with an air of muted triumph as he played his ace.

“Please,” Giles said hastily. God knows how long Spike could hold out. Or would vampires come faster? Or at will, in which case – Spike’s head bent to its task, Wesley moved so his face was inches away from the action and reached for Spike’s cock and Giles felt his eyes close so tightly he saw stars.

“God, you’re good at this,” he said in a series of gasps.

Spike smiled, his hips moving in a slow, sensuous rhythm as Wesley’s hand worked his erection, and slid his finger into his mouth, hooking it around so that it caressed the head of Giles’s cock. With each slick stroke of his fingertip came a lick from his tongue and Giles started to moan helplessly, chanting words Wesley had never thought to hear from him, words that merged until all he was capable of saying was Spike’s name. Then Spike took his wet finger out of his mouth and Giles found himself widening his legs and tilting his hips up, ready and waiting for what he knew would follow.

Spike held Giles down as he came, mildly cursing Wesley in his thoughts as the lad’s hand had tightened uncomfortably around Spike’s cock but had stopped moving. Wesley was staring, entranced, at Giles, watching his hands fist in the quilt and then relax and go to Spike’s head, stroking it with a strange tenderness, watching his face contort, eyes tightly shut, teeth biting deeply into his lip before he gave up and voiced his pleasure, watching him lost in sensation, open and vulnerable.

“Going to help me, now, Wesley?” Spike asked.

Wesley dragged his eyes away and smiled. “Of course,” he said.

Spike halted him as he moved around the bed. “No, Wes. Not like that. Up for trying something else?”

Giles recovered enough to look sharply at Wesley but his answering nod seemed enthusiastic enough so he rooted around and tossed Spike the bottle of lube.

“You a Boy Scout, Giles?” Spike enquired. “Or do you have hidden depths?”

“Concentrate on Wesley’s” Giles suggested a little snidely.

Spike snickered and flipped the lid open, his mind busy with a complicated position...Wes on hands and knees, Giles under him, on his stomach, getting himself a nice mouthful while...regretfully he abandoned it. Wasn’t sure necks bent that far...He toyed with a few variations as he slicked himself up and then decided that by the time he’d described them, Wesley would be wanting pen and paper to calculate angles and he’d have lost interest.

Then without being told Wesley moved into the exact position he’d thought of and Spike realised with this to play with, he could happily stay around for hours. Days. Without giving Wes time to feel awkward – not the most dignified of positions but if you started to worry about that in bed, you could kiss a good time goodbye – he moved in close behind him, circling Wesley’s waist for a brief hug and then glaring at Giles and jerking his head. Giles got the message and rolled over, going up onto one elbow and starting to kiss Wesley, distracting him from what Spike was doing, relaxing him so that by the time Spike judged him ready, Wesley was way past that and into desperate. Spike took it so slowly that Wesley gave an inarticulate cry of frustration and pushed back suddenly, violently, crying out as he did so, half pleasure, half pain. Spike rode out a warning shock from his chip, resisted the natural but counter productive urge to wallop Wes’ arse for rushing him and settled for leaning over and whispering savagely, “You do that again, Wesley and I’ll see if Giles has anything I can use to tie you up so you can’t bloody move.”

Wesley whimpered and Giles rolled his eyes. Spike could be appallingly dense sometimes and if he thought that was a viable threat this was one of those times.

Now that he was deep in Wes, Spike decided he might as well take advantage of it. Wesley was tight and hot around him, making little noises that Giles was encouraging because – oh, now that was initiative – Giles had figured out what to do for himself and had moved down the bed and was lying at right angles to Wesley, using hands and mouth to make Wesley’s first climax not just inevitable but imminent. Spike wasn’t in a rush exactly, but he wanted Wesley to feel him coming inside him and he guessed that when Wesley came, it was going to hit him hard. Right. Still being careful, Spike began to move with a steadily increasing speed that turned Wesley’s whimpers to hoarse cries and then added some of his own as he came, shuddering and unable to stop thrusting inside Wesley until he had no more to give.

Pulling out was like leaving a warm bed on a cold morning and the handful of tissues Giles shoved at him, though practical, were a little too prosaic for passion but somehow Spike didn’t mind. He ended up in the middle being cuddled, for want of a better word, until roaming, roving hands turned eager again, kisses turned avid and they did it all again, but better....

* * * * *

Giles woke up to a loud hammering and winced. Wesley lay beside him, drooling peacefully onto a pillow. Spike was nowhere to be seen. The hammering, with full consciousness achieved, became someone knocking on the door. Giles stumbled out of bed, grabbing at a robe, and staggered down the stairs a moment too late to stop Spike from opening it.

His, “Spike, get back up here, now!” never stood a chance of being explained to Buffy and Willow’s satisfaction. Not once the knot on his robe slipped free. Not once Wesley had appeared behind him, looking sleepily adorable and stark naked. Not once they saw the tray Spike had been about to carry upstairs, with one mug of blood and two of coffee. Even if Spike had been wearing clothes, it still would have looked a little...unusual.

Starting the day with a row with one’s Slayer in the course of which one had to put oneself between her and the vampire she was doing her best to stake...well, it wasn’t the best of beginnings.

Getting rid of Buffy and Willow, locking the door and letting his nerves be soothed by one contrite and one insufferably amused lover made up for it though.

“Just tell her it’s a spell,” Spike said, running a finger down Giles’s back and chasing it with his tongue. “She’ll buy that.”

“Why would she?” Giles said drowsily. Wesley and Spike exchanged glances. Someone had added something to that whiskey...

“No reason,” they chorused.

END