Pairing – Spike/Giles
Rating- Adult, for sexy time
Warning- inappropriate use of Christmas in general
A/N – Written at the really really last minute for nekid numbers: Giles, candy cane, Santa’s workshop.
Beta and title credit to [info]laazikaat

Santa's Little Helper


Was the CD stuck? Bloody Jingle Bells seemed like it had been playing for hours. Giles wasn’t by nature a ‘bah-humbug’ type- he quite enjoyed Christmas as rule. Usually. From the other side of the red velvet rope. When he wasn’t wearing an elf suit and trying to make crying children ‘smile for the birdy’.

But this is what happened when a Y’ueltyd demon made itself at home in Santa’s Village at the Sunnydale mall. Y’ueltyds were relatively harmless, until they decided to mate, at which time, if they climaxed as a group, their pheromones would be released in high concentration and could prove toxic, perhaps fatally so, to any nearby humans. Either that, or it would be an aphrodisiac, Willow hadn’t been able to translate that part accurately.

The Y’ueltyds were expected to show themselves just after sundown on Christmas Eve. Until then, there was no way to know where they were. The only information they had, was that the little demons would be in Santa’s Village, and would resemble ornaments or decorations. They could be any one of hundreds of baubles or strings of tinsel, even the plastic icicles.

Willow and Tara had come up with a spray that would immobilise the demons once they’d shown themselves. At that point, they would be gathered up into a Santa sack and disposed of through a portal to their own dimension.

It was with a sigh of relief that Giles waved off the last of the visitors and noticed it was minutes from sun down.

“Thank god that’s over,” he said to Santa. “I don’t know why we had to be here from nine o’clock, it was far too early in the day for mating.”

“Never too early in the day for mating, Rupes. Maybe you’ve been doing it wrong.”

“Oh, do shut up, Sp-.”

“Oi, it’s soddin’ Santa. You want to crush the kiddies dreams?”

“Sorry, I do apologise. Shut up, Santa.

“Much better,” Santa said with a smirk that couldn’t be hidden by the beard.

Giles dug around in the Santa sack, next to the empty throne. He handed Spike a large bottle with a hose attached and kept one for himself as well.

“We have about two minutes before these Y’ueltyd appear. Please check that your pump is working.”

Spike raised his eyebrows and leered. “My pump is just fine thanks, Rupes. How’s yours?” Spike lowered his eyes to the front of the very short tunic top that was part of Giles’ costume.

Giles rolled his eyes and made an attempt to cover himself with his free hand. He realised he wouldn’t get very far and gave it up as a lost cause. “You know, you are very juvenile for someone who is more than a century old.”

“Oh, now, Watcher. It’s my perky youthfulness that keeps you coming back, time and again, isn’t it? Or maybe you just want me for my pump.” Spike gave the trigger handle an experiment squeeze and a jet of spicy smelling fluid shot out in rapid bursts. Spike took one step and was up against Giles’ side, his hand sliding down from the large gold buckle at Giles’ waist. “Let’s see how yours is shaping up.”

With some effort and much self control, Giles pushed him away. The fact that Spike was wearing a Santa suit made it much easier. His lithe, muscular body was completely covered. There was no disguising the deep, smoky voice though, and Giles sincerely hoped Spike would stop the suggestive conversation very soon. “I’ll thank you not to make mine ‘shape up’ in public, Spike. Goodness knows who is watching.”

Spike laughed, and even that affected Giles. He cursed himself, and the costume that was no cover for his feelings. Over the laugh though, Giles could hear a rustling and tinkle from the Christmas trees that ringed the Workshop area.

There was no need to warn Spike, he’d easily picked up the sounds too. “As always, Spike, you choose the most inopportune time. Sprays ready, then.”

Spike and Giles stood back to back, their spray bottles aimed at the trees. In just a matter of seconds, the trees trembled and shook as one by one, the baubles, stars, icicles, snowflakes and tiny felt-covered Santas dropped to the floor and made a beeline for the center of the workshop.

It was such an unusual sight that both forgot their spray bottles and stared open mouthed at the bizarre mating going on before them.

“Did that bauble just-.”

“Yeah, and I think the soddin icicle is gonna- oh no, it didn’t just do that.”

“It most certainly did. But look at that candy cane, it’s about to-.”

“You know, Rupes, that’s not so-.”

“Spike, you are not getting aroused watching Christmas decorations mating?”

“Well, no-, I-, okay, maybe a little.” Spike tilted his head and pointed to a sparkling, writhing mass on the floor. “Did you see-.”

Giles gaze shifted to where Spike was pointing. Luckily he was pointing with the nozzle of the spray and Giles realised what they should be doing. “Shoot,” he shouted, pointing his bottle at the trees.

“Oh, right, yeah shooting.”

Between them, they managed to soak the trees, and the piles of Y’ueltyd demons that had made it to the mating group on the floor. Spike and Giles gingerly picked up the tiny comatose demons and packed them all into a large red velvet sack, tying the top off tightly with a long gold cord.

“Oh, thank god that’s done. Cup of tea?” Giles asked as he held open the door at the back of Santa’s workshop that led to a small dressing room.

“That’ll do for starters, cheers.”

Spike sat down heavily and pulled off the hat and beard. “Bloody hell, can’t hardly breathe in those things.”

“Ah, Spike. I really don’t see that as much of an issue, do you?”

“Well just cause a fella doesn’t need to breathe, don’t mean he can’t do it on the odd occasion. Course, some blokes think not needing to breathe is a bit of a talent, don’t they, Rupes?”

Giles blushed deeply and ignored the comment while he set to making tea, rolling his eyes at the jar of generic tea bags next to the stained kettle. Americans.

“Come on, Watcher. Don’t get all coy with me now.”

Giles shook his head and dug through the cupboards looking for cups. “Spike, it is really neither the time nor the place for that kind of discussion.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m feeling a bit antsy now after watching those things go at it. And look at those nasty little red tights you’re wearing, Rupes. No secrets in those are there?” Spike dropped his voice lower. “Turn around for me.”

“I will not!” Giles tugged futilely at the front of the green tunic, knowing it was far too short to cover the way he’d reacted to Spike’s teasing. “Bloody vampire.”

There was a satisfied chuckle from behind him, which Giles tried his best to ignore. He poured water into the cups and all but shoved Spike’s across the table to him, then sat down with a tired sigh.

“I do hope today is the only day we have to do this. Didn’t Willow say Christmas Eve was the prime mating time for the Y’ueltyd?”

“That she did, mate. Shame, really.”

Too tired to think of a possible reason for that, Giles raised his eyebrows in question.

In answer, Spike took a mouthful of his tea, then slowly pushed back his chair. Giles watched him cross the small room, flip the lock on the door leading out to the workshop, then walk- no, stalk- back, with a leer that made Giles glad his tights were stretchy lycra. And that was a thought Giles never imagined himself having. Ever.

In one quick movement, Spike had pulled Giles’ chair from the table, spun it around and dropped to his knees. “Shame, because I quite like you in these tights. Like you even better out of them; let’s see what we can do about that, eh?”

Spike’s hands slid up the side of Giles’ legs. “Been watching you all day, bending over to pick up those toys to wave at the kiddies.” He flipped up the front of Giles’ tunic. “Wiggling and dancing around to make them laugh.” His fingers curled over the waist of the tights and pulled them down enough to free Giles’ hard length. “Will you wiggle like that next time you come over to ‘interrogate’ me, Rupert? Will you wear tights and dance for me?”

Giles looked down at the clash of red and green lycra against the shining white of Spike’s hair and skin. Dear lord. “Spike, do shut up,” Giles rasped and gripped Spike by the back of the head pulling him closer until he could feel the cool of Spike’s lips brushing the heat of his cock.

Giles locked eyes with Spike as he slowly sank his mouth down over Giles’ erection. So slowly, with tiny flicks of his tongue followed by great swirls around and around the length until Giles felt himself hit the back of Spike’s throat. A small adjustment from Spike and he was sinking even deeper.

Giles twisted both hands in Spike’s hair and tipped his head back with a moan as he felt Spike’s throat working against him. Though they’d only done this a handful of times, Giles was always amazed at how the cool mouth felt around him, how Spike could maintain such a suction thanks to his lack of breathing.

Eventually, as Spike worked him faster, Giles hands fell limply to his sides and he merely leaned back and enjoyed the sensations flooding through him. He ignored the complete wrongness of being blown by Santa, and focused only on the familiar blonde head bobbing enthusiastically between his outstretched legs.

Spike slipped a hand into Giles’ tights and rolled his balls gently over his long cool fingers. When one finger slipped further back to stroke at the soft skin behind, Giles’ muscles clenched and he came hard, trying his damnedest not to cry out. Spike sucked and licked at him till he calmed, then dropped the lycra tights back into place with a sharp snap against Giles’ belly.

“Like I said, love,” Spike told him, as he went back to his seat and drank down the rest of his tea. “Shame the gig is probably over. Think I found myself a new kink here.”

Giles sagged in his seat, limp and sated. “You can’t be serious, Spike.”

“Watcher, admit it. Getting a blow job from Santa while you’re wearing a soddin’ elf suit got you all hot and bothered. Simple as that. Now, if you take that suit home, you can come interrogate me anytime you like. Matter of fact, those little demons gave me an idea. Let’s stop at the workshop on the way out, I saw a giant plastic candy cane that might have more than a few uses.”

Giles sighed. Some of it was frustration, but mainly it was to cover up the groan of anticipation as he visualised the oversized decoration Spike was talking about. He was rapidly learning that when one had intimate, clandestine ‘relations’ with a vampire, very little was sacred and everything was fair game.

He hoped the management wouldn’t notice one missing elf suit.

The End

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