written by Raynedancer
Spoilers: None indicated.
Summary: Wesley visits Giles on his birthday to discuss the reappearance of Faith and reveals a secret or two of his own.
Dedication: Dedicated to Brenda and written for her challenge. Giles and a sword was such a...stimulating...idea :)
Feedback Author: Raynedancer
The jet of water from the shower slowed from a deluge to a trickle, leaving beads of water all over the body standing in the big tub. Rupert Giles wiped his hair
back with both hands and opened his eyes. It had been a good, long jog, but the sun had been warm and he'd needed and revelled in the cool shower after he got
For a moment he just stood, savouring the all too rare freedom of being completely alone and utterly unhurried in his own home as well as naked and
refreshed. He stretched, the muscles of his back rippling under the smooth, pale skin, his stomach stretching flat and the deceptive biceps suddenly
popping out of nowhere to take ten years off him.
A few moments later he smiled to himself. He'd come in the back way so the front door was still locked from his run. He stepped out of the tub and ran a towel
lightly over himself, then dropped it and sauntered out to the kitchen to get a drink to take up to the loft while he found some clothes...if indeed he didn't
decide to stay up there and read without the damned clothes...just for the sheer hell of it.
He was halfway up the stairs when the doorbell rang. He looked at his unopened soda and muttered a particularly violent expletive before descending
again. The doorbell rang again, twice, this time more urgently. He sighed and crossed quickly to the bathroom, emerging again with the towel tucked around
"Who is it?" he demanded, expecting to hear Buffy, or Xander or even Willow's voice.
"Uh...um...may I come in? I'm sorry to bother you...."
He scowled and unlocked the door, dragged it open. "What the hell do you want?" he demanded.
"Oh...I...just to discuss this Faith situation. I uh...feel rather responsible..."
"And so you bloody should," Giles growled. "All right, all right, get in."
Wesley Wyndham-Price stumbled in the doorway clutching his parcels, still trying to recover from the vision of the older ex-watcher, standing there in better
shape than anyone might have guessed, wearing nothing more than a towel. It had been a very long time since Wesley had seen anything quite so devastatingly
He'd always silently acknowledged and recognized the attraction he felt to the older man...a complication that had contributed in no small part to his inability
to articulate and his general clumsiness in Giles' presence. At one time he'd even tried in subtle fashion to lead the conversation around to something
that might reveal the older man's own preferences or at least give them some common ground. It had been at the high school prom; with Cordelia as a cover, it was
a real chance to delve into their own youth but he'd bumbled that too, trying too hard...again.
He turned and cleared his throat, to find Giles readjusting the towel, which, as towels were wont to do, had un-knotted itself and started to slide off.
Wesley swallowed and ignored the wave of heat that went through him at the glimpse he caught of the other man's groin, the solid thigh, and the dark
golden-brown hair between.
He dragged his eyes away before Giles looked up, and cleared his throat. "I-I rather thought the others would be here," he ventured carefully.
"Why?" Giles asked, towel firmly back in place.
"To celebrate your birthday. I...well, I brought this." He handed over the burgundy wrapped package and a black-cloth wrapped one. "The long one is from
Cordelia and, well, Angel. They w-wanted to when they found out..."
Giles blinked. No one had ever remembered, or indeed, he suspected, bothered to find out when his birthday was...at least not since he'd been in Sunnydale.
Willow might have enquired once in passing, when they were planning one of Buffy's fateful parties, but he wasn't sure. Now three people he'd least expect to
even remember his funeral, let alone his birthday, had apparently marked the day.
"How on earth...?"
Wesley had the good grace to flush. "Last year, before I came here, when I knew I was going to have to deal with you, I pulled your file...your entire file."
Giles looked shocked. "And they let you? Rifle through confidential records?"
Wesley nodded. "You...um...were no longer working for them. They uh...didn't feel that discretion, or privacy, was a requirement any longer."
Giles took his parcels to the sofa and sat down, still trying to digest Wesley's information. Any bloody fool could have had access to his records by now...records
of his entire life, his mistakes, his personal details...in fact almost everything there was to know about him. The Council were nothing if not thorough
and they'd started the day he was born...courtesy of his father.
Yet another bone of contention that had lain between father and son all those years...
Absently, he began to open Wesley's package. The removal of the wrapper revealed an impressive box which he opened carefully and from which he reverently
drew a bottle of aged cognac.
"You have a good memory," Giles said softly. "But...but this must have cost you a fortune."
Wesley half smiled. "I have to be honest and say...not," he revealed. "I brought it with me from England last year, as...as a peace offering, should I
have needed it. It's from the cellars of my family estate."
Wesley shrugged. "My Estate, actually. My mother died when I was a child, and my father early last year from a stroke."
"I'm sorry," Giles told him, and meant it.
Wesley's expression hardened. "I'm not. I hadn't seen him in over ten years."
Giles sighed. "He was a Watcher?"
Wesley looked up. "Like yours?" He shook his head. "They would have made a good pair, but Sir Hilary Wyndham Price was more than a match for Thomas Giles
OBE in parenting skills. For the first fifteen years of my life I was lucky if I saw him more than a half a dozen times a year...and those weren't
exactly...joyous...occasions." His eyes grew haunted for a moment then refocused. "God, I was lucky if saw anyone, I spent so much time at boarding school and
being sent away for everything from so-called vacations on the continent to Student Exchange programs. God I hated those..." he sighed, then
coloured suddenly, realising how much he'd revealed of himself.
As though he understood the younger man's sudden nakedness, Giles focused on the second parcel, undoing the cord and unwrapping the soft black cloth.
"Oh, Lord," he whispered when the blade within was revealed.
"S-Something wrong?" Wesley stammered, not looking at the sword, but at the towel, which had once again come adrift, but this time without Giles either noticing or
apparently caring. It had fallen open along his right thigh and when he shifted to heft the sword, slithered softly off one side and pulled across the other,
leaving the younger man with an almost unbearable view. He shifted uncomfortably, his jeans suddenly a size too small.
The older man grinned. "No...nothing...it's just...you do realize this isn't a replica?"
Wesley cleared his throat again and dragged his eyes upward, trying to focus on the blade. "Uh...yes. Cordelia wanted to make you a gift and became fixated
on the idea of a sword because of your uh...preoccupation with them during her time at Sunnydale High. Th-Then she discovered the cost."
"Bloody hell, yes. Your family estate would have coughed over this piece," Giles said reverently.
"Indeed," Wesley agreed, dragging his wandering gaze back, once again, to the blade. "Angel allowed her to choose from his personal
collection. In fact I think he assisted in the choice."
Giles laughed aloud, a broad, barking laugh. "Figures," he said. "It's a Bastard sword from, oh, I'd say about the fifteen century. As real as I am,
but barely diminished by time. See the slight wear marks, here...and here...and the natural rub from probably years of use? It belonged to someone who was
very attached to their weapon, probably had it individually crafted for their use. You see the inlaid gold and ivory in the hilt, the crest on the
pommel...both also worn from years of polishing and cleaning. It's...magnificent."
"Yes it is, isn't it," Wesley said absently.
The green eyes looked up curiously and followed the other's absent gaze, narrowing when he realized what was distracting the younger man.
"Something wrong?" he asked softly, and struggled not to laugh when Wesley jumped like a startled cat. At that point he also noticed the unexpected burden
placed on Wesley's jeans. *So that was how it was* Strange enough seeing the young fool out of the Watcher's uniform he'd worn like a suit of armour for
so long, but this...
He looked up slowly, wondering if the dark eyes would have the courage to meet his, to accept whatever judgement he found in them.
They did. It somehow moved Giles that Wesley had found it in himself to not only meet him, but to hold unwaveringly as he probed the soft brown depths. And
then it was Giles who drew a silent breath when Wesley slowly removed his glasses without losing eye-contact even for a moment and slid them into his shirt pocket.
For several more long moments neither of them found the words to say, but Giles could see everything Wesley needed him to see. He didn't need to look down
at himself to know that he was now also telegraphing a great deal more than he intended. He resisted the temptation to cover himself like an outraged virgin
and lowered the sword slowly instead, until it was pointing directly at Wesley.
The younger man drew a sharp breath then watched it mesmerically as it came toward him, the tip touching his breastbone, making him tremble as it drew a line
down his torso to his navel and stopped.
"Is there a problem, Wesley?" Giles asked very softly, almost provocatively, when the other man closed his eyes.
"God no. I mean...no," he whispered, his breathing slightly laboured.
Giles watched the groin of the jeans twitching and smiled. He moved the tip of the sword again, down across the denim to the bulge in the fabric, using
both hands to trace the outline until Wesley groaned involuntarily and shivered.
"Been a long time...?" Giles asked, amused and was surprised to see the other's eyes open and focus on him, but only for a moment. The one thing he didn't
count on stared out at him, aroused, excited, hopeful and terrified...
"Not even a nice girl?" Giles asked softly, his game momentarily forgotten.
Wesley shook his head slightly.
Wesley swallowed. "I never wanted...I was always big enough to defend myself at school...but I saw enough to know what I wanted...I...I just...I never found
anyone I ever wanted it with...and there was the family name to pass on..."
Giles laughed softly, not unkindly, in fact the opposite. "I take it you now know exactly what you want?" He moved the sword tip along one denim covered
thigh, across to the other knee and back up until it once again found its mark and Wesley groaned again, then shuddered and moaned when the blade slid between
his legs and under his seat, and stayed there.
"Do I take it that you have your own ideas about how to celebrate my birthday?" Giles asked before standing and letting the towel fall to the ground.
"Oh...oh, lord yes," Wesley whimpered as he slowly withdrew the sword and laid it on the coffee table.
"In that case, I think I need another shower," the older man told him, moving past him, his mesmerizing erection bobbing between those still magnificently
tapered thighs, his lean, hard body still holding back the years, and, Wesley noticed as he watched him disappear down the corridor, the contours of his
backside were still almost unbearably chisled. He wondered what it meant, his leaving. Then a voice called from the depths of the corridor.
* * * * *
Giles had the water running by the time the younger ex-Watcher slipped into the room. He was amazed at how much the younger man's ardour had aroused him...and
how much more the idea of touching, caressing, making love to that long lean body was increasing that arousal.
"Fancy a shower?" he asked lightly.
Wesley stared at him speculatively for a moment, then began methodically removing his clothes, removing his boots and socks and hanging his jacket on the back of
the door before looking up at Giles again while he slowly unbuttoned his shirt. By the third button Giles knew it was part of a game...part of something
perhaps, that the boy had fantasized about at some time. He smiled a little and licked his lips almost unconsciously.
As if it were a cue, Wesley's eyes smiled back and he seemed to finally begin to relax as he reached the last button and drew the shirt out.
At that point Giles couldn't resist stepping up to him and pushing the shirt off his wide, firm shoulders. Wesley wasn't heavy-set for his size, but he was
beautifully proportioned and rather tanned. Later he would ask how their favourite prude had managed to acquire a suntan...but for now it was enough to drink
in the magnificent form before him.
Wesley closed his eyes as the long fingers rubbed over his chest, his nipples, over his shoulders and caressed his arms, then began tracing the contours of
the firm muscles, making the younger man tremble and sigh until they finally slid down to his jeans, Wesley making an audible noise as Giles pulled open the stud.
"What do you want...?" he whispered. "And are you sure you want it?"
"P...please," he begged, pushing against Giles' hand.
"Tell me," Giles demanded.
"You," he gasped as the long fingers slid down both sides of his groin. "P-Please, Rupert."
Wesley's strangled, groaning cry of ecstasy reverberated around the apartment and turned Giles' own erection to rock as he stroked the hot flesh
pressing against the inside of the boxers under the blue jeans, before finally closing his hand around it.
Then he let go suddenly and pushed the jeans off the slim hips. "We're wasting water," he said hoarsely.
In seconds they were both under the hot stream, Giles standing behind the younger man, soaping his back in slow, sensuous circles and listening to Wesley's soft,
whiffling moans of pleasure as they grew larger and larger.
Finally Giles allowed his hands to slide down to the equally tanned cheeks, felt the tremor that raced through Wes and felt him lean into the caress. Slowly,
firmly, he soaped them all over, circles growing and diminishing, kneading and caressing, before finally, he allowed the soap to slide down the tight cleft and
used two fingers to slide it right down between the long legs to the sweet spot behind the scrotum.
Wesley gasped, his legs parting and wobbling, forcing him to steady himself against the wall. Twice more Giles repeated the process, lingering each time in
that sweet spot. Then he soaped both his hands and rubbed the outside of Wesley's thighs while the younger man calmed down a little, before sliding his
hands around to the soft flesh of his groin.
This time it was Giles' turn to groan, and again when he finally allowed himself to fit against the beautiful body, his own aching erection pressed hard
against the soapy cleft, bringing more moans from Wesley, and short, laboured breaths as Giles moved against him.
"Please," Wesley whispered. "I need..."
"No," Giles said surprisingly gently. "You don't. Not now. Not like this." Then his hands finally claimed what they truly coveted, sliding across the now
thoroughly soaped belly to close around the straining erection, hot even under the onslaught of the shower.
Wesley's legs threatened to go again and his moans told Giles that he would have to go carefully if the younger man's first experience was to a worthwhile
one. For a time he continually changed the stimuli, slowing and speeding up, alternating between pumping the big shaft and caressing, until he finally turned
The dark eyes were glazed and glowing with desire...with need. Giles forgot the soap, sliding his hands down to grasp the big, circumcised erection
again. Wesley was longer, though not larger, than he himself was and so hard it reminded Giles of his younger days with Ethan.
"I want...I can't...don't let me..." Wesley moaned as Giles' hands slid up and down the shaft, down to the soft flesh beneath and back again until his new lover
was trembling with need and pushing almost frantically into his hand.
"I won't," Giles promised and eased off again before sliding irresistibly down into the blast of the shower, his hair plastering against his head as he
came to eye level with Wesley's groin.
"O-h-h m-my God," Wesley breathed when he realised what was going to happen, then drew a sharp breath when one of Giles' thumbs and a forefinger clamped
around the base of his penis. And then the world tilted on its axis and Wesley forgot his own name.
"F-F-Fuck!" he gasped, barely able to form letters, let alone words. Below him Giles was chuckling as he savoured the rock-hard young flesh that strained into
his mouth, kicking and charging toward completion, and constrained only by the iron lock he had on its base. *So there were common depths beneath that prissy
exterior. Mores the better*, Giles decided, and ran his tongue along the underside of the shaft just to watch Wesley's knees buckle again. He didn't stop
until the younger man begged him to either give him release or to stop.
Giles stopped. His own erection had waned during his focus on Wesley, and they needed to get out of the shower.
"Bedroom," he commanded.
Giles pushed a still half-dazed Wesley onto the bed when he stood at its side among their discarded towels and clothes, unsure what to do next. Then Giles was
there, next to him, slipping a leg between Wesley's long ones and then pausing to look down at the younger man. He was quite beautiful, lying there with his eyes
closed, long sooty lashes fanned out against his cheeks, mouth open, his hair damp and dishevelled and his colour high.
"What do you want?" he asked softly.
Wesley opened his eyes and met Giles' glittering gaze, realised that he meant him to answer.
In reply he slid his hands over the older man's chest, playing with the soft hair, the erect nipples for some time before sliding them up over the smooth shoulders,
down the lean arms until just one continued to slide along the older man's side to his thigh.
Giles gasped in spite of himself when the hand found his now rigid erection.
"I...I want..." Wesley stammered, then scowled. "*Damn it*," he swore, frustrated, and slid his other hand around the back of Giles' damp neck and pulled him
It had been at least twenty years since Giles had kissed a man.
His heart raced as his mouth merged with the incredibly sensuous silkiness of Wesley's. He knew almost immediately that the younger man needed him to
take control; that what he wanted he didn't truly know how to take. For long moments Giles showed him...showed him how to love and be loved, then how to
plunder, to make love with lips, a tongue and teeth and to drive each other to almost to the edge from the sheer exquisiteness of the intimacy.
When he drew away Giles knew one more thing. This was not going to be another Ethan. He drew back a little and touched the younger man's face.
"Don't ever allow yourself be used," he said softly, and brushed his lips again with his own. "Not be me, or by anyone."
Still breathing hard, Wesley stared for a moment. The older man's eyes were very bright and far away. He was obviously remembering something he would perhaps
prefer not to.
Moving on instinct only, and swallowing his fear, he slid a hand around the thick, not-quite-so-erect, penis and began to stroke it back to hardness.
Giles made a noise and closed his eyes, half lying on his side, half on his back and moving rhythmically against Wesley's hand, yet still not really there.
The smooth, powerful shaft grew harder in his fingers, but it wasn't really enough. Wesley shifted a little so that he was looking down at the other man. He
wanted to do this. He could do it. He knew-oh, God, he knew- what Giles had done for him earlier. He bent his head.
Giles' eyes flew open even as he shuddered the length of his entire body. Wesley's hot, damp mouth was sliding down his aching shaft. He lay back as the dark
head continued to make him shudder and groan.
Wesley experimented with his tongue, pleased with the noises he was eliciting from the older man, especially when he withdrew and ran his tongue around the tip,
slid it all the way down again, then in a flash of inspiration, gently ran his teeth back up the shaft to the tip and plunged his mouth back down on it again.
The sound of Giles swearing like an old sea captain and gasping like a heart-attack victim made him smile around the hot shaft before continuing his
ministrations until he motioned him to stop.
Wesley watched him reach over to his side table and pull out a half-used tube.
As if he could read the younger man's mind, Giles shook his head. "My former girlfriend," he said quietly. "At least I think it's *former*," he added
ruefully. "You never can quite tell with her." He paused then. The dark eyes were riveted on the tube, almost fearful. He could understand that. He'd never
once allowed Ethan...
Very deliberately he put it down on the side table. "Your choice," he said quietly, never wanting anything quite as badly as he wanted the man lying in his bed.
Wesley returned the gaze, wanting him equally as badly and coveting the rigid, dusky cock that bobbled as Giles shifted back and stretched out again alongside
"Sh...show me," Wesley finally managed. "I don't know anything," he explained in a frustrated voice. "And do I want to know everything...but not..."
Giles ran a hand over the beautiful torso. "But not if it's going to spoil everything..." he guessed, knowing exactly what Wesley was afraid of.
Wesley nodded, his eyes widening as the older man half turned and picked up the tube again. He watched Giles slick his own penis, sliding a hand up and down almost
as though pleasuring himself for a moment, before closing his sticky fingers around Wesley's own shaft and making it just as slick, allowing the very greased
fingers to slide down behind the soft scrotum, to find and tease one more new place.
Wesley arched off the bed and gasped, astonished at how much pleasure the simple touch...there...could cause...and then the fingers prodded a little and he
gasped again, then whimpered as two of them slipped into the vice-like channel.
"Oh...oh...sweet Jesus..." he whimpered again when Giles started to move them slowly. "Is that what you want?" he asked in a hoarse, but
sensuous voice, suddenly barely in control himself.
"D...Don't...stop," Wesley gasped when the fingers stilled briefly, waiting for his reply.
Giles started to move them again, his other hand closing around the big cock and pumping it slowly, wary of overloading him too soon. The moment he felt
the give in the contracted muscle, he slipped between the younger man's bent knees.
Wesley, who'd closed his eyes in ecstasy, opened them and his mouth when he felt the big tip push against him. Giles, who was watching him, paused again. He
could see how much he wanted-needed it, but he also sensed the reserve, the trepidation.
He found the brown eyes and looked deeply into them, waited for the calm to return to them, then smiledjust a little, with his own.
"Trust me," he said with a kind of gentleness that made Wesley slide his hands around the older mans neck and push his fingers into the soft hair before nodding
At that Giles lifted his hips unexpectedly and brought his penis to Wesley's and molded himself against him.
Wesley shuddered when he felt the heat touch his own, now painful, erection. Then Giles started to move and he immediately began to move with him. The sensation of the slick shafts sliding against the soft abdominal
skin, and against each other drove all thought of pain or fear from Wes's mind. Both men gave voice to their pleasure as their hips ground against each other,
their cocks almost actively searching for each other.
By the time Wesley was breathing in short, shallow breaths again, Giles had found his opening once moreand without the younger man even blinking had slipped
several fingers inside.
He arched and whimpered, wanting to keep pumping, but Giles had pulled away. Instead he pushed himself against the fingers, his breathing coming in even shorter breaths.
This time Giles moved swiftly and carefully.
"D-o-o-h...dear...God..." Wesley choked as the big head slipped easily past the vice-like muscle and into the hot passage, then whimpered and moaned as he
continued to move.
"That's right," Giles whispered. He wanted nothing more than to just take the virgin passage...but he wasn't going to ruin
anything at this late stage.
"Now," Wesley breathed. "Please, now..."
Giles pushed. Wesley was right. He slid in almost without resistance until he was buried in the young ex-Watcher, whose eyes had rolled back, small groaning
cries issuing from his open mouth. He leaned forward and began to stroke, knowing that it wouldn't be long. As his pace and his thrusts increased, so Wesley
raised his hips, pushing back, his small cries becoming demanding shouts as they both raced toward completion.
Moments later Giles felt his young lover go rigid. And then Wesley screamed his name and began to convulse, his seed spilling furiously onto his flat stomach as
Giles lunged frantically a few more times and joined him, his orgasm seeming as though it might never end, for a time, then finally fading as the younger man
fell back against the bed, breathing hard.
Welsey's eyes were closed and his face was shuttered. Giles' eyes softened, and he reached out and touched the handsome face.
"It's all right," he said gently, not surprised when a hand closed around his, and just held it for a few seconds, before falling away again.
Giles shifted, cleaning them both and then padding down to the bathroom to take another quick shower and to give Wesley some time alone.
When he returned the young Watcher was half dressed, sitting on the side of the bed, his hands between his legs, his head bent, glasses hanging from his fingers.
Giles went and sat next to him. "Leaving so soon?" he asked quietly.
At first Wesley didn't move, then he slowly looked up and turned to Giles. "You...you don't even like me...why would you want me to stay?" he whispered
Giles stared at the tears in the younger man's eyes for a long moment. "A thousand years ago, perhaps, or maybe even yesterday," he said dryly. "What you need
to ask yourself now is why the hell would I want you to *go*?"
Wesley blinked. "Then...?"
Giles undid the stud on the jeans. "Then, I think you should stay at least until I've taught you everything I know."
At that Wesley grinned lopsidedly. "Then I wasn't completely inept?"
Giles cleared his throat, trying to ignore the movement of his own more than half-aroused member, something that hadn't happened since his youth...if
you didn't count the candy incident...
"No you certainly were not," he managed crisply and pulled Wesley's zipper down, sliding his hand inside the jeans and eliciting a delicious moan from the
A responding hand snaked out then and closed possessively around his rapidly engorging shaft.
"I take it your staying?" Giles asked huskily as Wesley stood up, slid the jeans down and fitted himself against his body.
"Yes." Wesley's other hand slid behind his head and drew their mouths together.
When they finally parted Giles grinned at the younger man's resolve and enthusiasm, then grew serious when he saw the doubt still lurking near the surface.
"Losing your virginity isn't the end of the story, Wesley. It's just the beginning," he whispered, and began to move slowly against Wesley's hips.
"Then I want to read the whole book," the younger man groaned....
...And they both fell back onto the bed.