Deadly sin 4 of 7.
If you were going to do something, it was worth doing it right. Giles had grated a long time at the ‘bathtub solution’. It was inconvenient. It was untidy. The chains rattled and left dark marks on the porcelain. The tiled bathroom had a bad habit of amplifying an already annoying voice, and worst of all, the chains really were too loose, allowing the vampire an irritating liberality.
And Giles was certain Spike had timed his ejaculation precisely to be when he walked into the bathroom, the cheeky bastard. One does not expect to walk right in on a fountain of spurting jizz and that knowing leer.
So Giles had said, mentally of course, “Enough of this nonsense.” He turned on his heel, slamming the bathroom door, and told the children, “Could you all leave? I have some work I need to do around the house.”
“You won’t bother us,” Willow said, innocently. “Hammer away! I can research while Xander plays video games, I can study through anything.”
Xander, fortunately, had a bit of sense. He caught Giles’ expression and grabbed Willow’s wrist. “I think G-man’s kicking us out, Wills. In a polite, British way.”
Buffy stood, eyes wide. “Oh.”
“I could get less ‘British’,” Giles said.
He locked the door behind them, and once again congratulated himself on turning down Buffy’s request for a spare key.
He returned to the bathroom. Spike pouted mockingly. “Did I scare the poor old watcher-man? Haven’t seen that in a while, have you, Nancy? Slayer’s got you living like a monk.”
“Hardly,” Giles said acidly. “This situation is not working at all. I am going to move you to a less frequented part of the flat.”
“Oh goody, time for walkies.” Spike batted his eyelashes and held up his wrists.
Giles sat on the edge of the tub, reaching for the chains around Spike’s ankles. He stopped and glared. “I would ask you to be a little more civil. You aren’t my guest, you’re my prisoner.”
“What, going to bore me to death? News flash, mate, you’re already doing it.”
Giles yanked the ankle chain hard to get it in reach to un-fasten. “Some people would consider the inability to inflict harm, coupled with being chained up, to be the beginning of a motivation to bite one’s tongue.”
“Oo. ‘Bite one’s tongue’. Harsh words, Rupes.” Spike wriggled his shoulders and sat up. “Fact is, even with this chip and my hands tied behind my back, there’s nothing you could do that would scare me, so why don’t we drop the subtle threats, Jeeves, and just see me to my new room?”
Giles straightened, dropping the chains with a dull clunk. “Pride comes before a fall, Spike. I’ll give you one opportunity to apologize.”
Spike’s response was of the gesture sort.
“Right.” Giles stood and walked out of the room.
“Hey!” Spike called, “And when are you going to bring in the telly?”
Giles considered that perhaps he’d gone a bit overboard. This was precisely why he avoided gardening.
Little involuntary twitches and quivers ran all along Spike’s stretched body, adding motion to the art. The arms he had pulled out straight, cruciform, the wrists were twisted slightly before being locked in very tight manacles – there was no time to get a custom fit and vampires didn’t need circulation anyway – this allowed the tricep and bicep to be displayed to their most pleasing affect, like the gentle curves on an ironwood branch.
To achieve the necessary silence, he’d started with a bit-gag, but that stretched the cheeks, which were really one of the more arresting features of this creature and so distorting them was simply a waste. He researched some spells and played around with them, but in the end the best thing to do was simply to sever the vocal chords. Polyurethane would keep the healing at bay, for a while. (It wasn’t like Spike could be poisoned by the chemicals.) Giles was very pleased with having come up with the solution, and after two days the incisions on Spike’s throat were nearly healed away – though he had put a collar of black suede on him to cover the flaw. (Really the collar looked exquisite in its own right, riding up and down on that pale throat that worked in silence.) Sensual lips were bitten and formed soundless pleas and, no doubt, an endless stream of unheard invective.
Spike was panting a little, no doubt from the pain. Sweat glistened nicely in the indirect light.
A carefully applied switch resulted in the most delicate pattern of red lines – nothing too ostentatious. And the member that had started this whole thing was tightly bound in a black leather and chrome device Giles could not remember how he’d acquired – some things you just woke up from a bender and found in your possession. Still, it was handy, that, and ensured that he would not be surprised by ejaculation again.
Giles sighed, tired from exertion but pleased. It had also been a good job he’d done the cutting in the bathtub. Clean-up was minimal. He carried the phone to the foot of the bed and sat admiring his new artwork for a while before he dialed. “Ethan? Yes. I have acquired the most beautiful wall-hanging and must show it off. Can you come?”
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