Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Giles finds proof of a relationship he didn't suspect
Warnings: none
Word count: ~650
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, not for profit
Feedback: Yes!
Archive: Worlds Undreamed Of
Author's Note: I requested pairings and prompts for MMOM in my journal. savageseraph voted for Spike/Xander and undonne wanted Giles involved

What the Watcher Saw

by
Creyr

Giles putters along the shelves at the Magic Box, distracted by the fine tooling on the Italian leather of one of his more interesting acquisitions. He doesn’t notice the voices until he’s almost on top of them.

“Cold,” Xander protests.

“Vampire, love.”

The watcher pulls back, withdrawing into the shadows, although the bleached menace has probably scented him. Spike gives no indication though. When Xander gasps, Giles cautiously pokes his head out from his hiding place, just to make sure the lad isn’t under any duress.

Spike settles back, crossing his legs and locking his hands behind his head, a picture of nonchalant relaxation. Xander on the other hand, looks desperate and anything but calm. His prick pokes stiffly out of his pants, his jeans pushed down around his hips.

“Slowly now,” Spike instructs.

Xander glares, but he does as he’s told, hand loosely curling around his shaft, strokes unhurried. He bites his lip, hard enough to draw blood, and he moans, pressing his hips up. Spike’s languor disappears although his body doesn’t even twitch. Giles smiles to himself, for some reason proud that the boy is capable of getting his own back against the pillock of a vampire.

The boy’s breathing grows harsh and his pelvis rocks into his hand. The slow pace is bringing him off anyway.

“Stop.”

Xander bites off a curse even as he obeys. Sweat sheens his face and his hips continue to move, although nothing touches him. Spike watches him with an odd expression on his face while Xander isn’t looking at him. The three of them wait together.

“Again, pet.”

“Spike, please.” Xander’s hand resumes its work and his face contorts with the effort of holding back the pleasure surging through him.

“Are you close?”

“Fuck, yeah.” He worries his lip again, reopening the wound. Spike slips into game face for the briefest instant before he regains control of himself.

“How close?” the vampire asks, his voice husky with repressed lust.

Giles presses a hand to the front of his trousers. The scene he’s witnessing is disturbing, the human and the vampire in such an intimate performance, but the trust between the two of them is undeniable, making the whole thing hotter.

“So close, baby,” Xander says. He whimpers, a small broken sound. “Let me come. Oh, fuck, please let me come.”

“Stop.”

Xander pulls his hand away, crying out, “You asshole!”

His shoulders heave as he struggles to quell the sensations inside him. Giles sees a clear droplet slide down his shaft. More liquid gathers at the tip. Spike’s calm eyes are locked on Xander’s face, but his jeans give away his reaction to the human’s display.

“Go again.”

Xander lifts his eyelids, the pupils blown wide. “Kiss me,” he demands even as his hand runs over his flesh.

“Catch it,” Spike responds, but he gets up from the chair and settles on Xander’s lap, bending his face to the boy’s. He sucks at the cut on Xander’s lip, teeth worrying at it until the blood flows easily.

Xander makes some wordless plea and his body stiffens. Spike presses his tongue into his mouth, muffling the noise. Xander’s hips jerk and thrust, but Spike keeps his seat, riding out the tremors. When Xander stills, Spike settles back into the other chair.

“Give over, love.”

Holding his come-covered hand out to Spike, Xander slouches in his chair, the lines of his body relaxed, gone soft with his release. Spike takes his hand and uses his tongue to carefully clean every drop of Xander’s essence off his hand. The vampire makes small noises of approval as he works.

Giles has seen enough to give him wanking material for weeks. He backs slowly away to the more public parts of the store. He takes his glasses off and polishes them, pleased at the steadiness of his hands.

The End

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