Rating: NC-17
Author: Trekker
Pairing: Giles/Ethan
Fandom: Buffy
The boy's file was impressive. He'd glided through his first years at the academy. It was incredible, given how little formal schooling he'd had and given the life he'd lead. Still, sometimes those who came to the academy from the most humble backgrounds did the best work and were the most motivated to learn. That made it doubly odd that this student in particular would have been caught plagiarizing, the one offense most likely to earn a quick expulsion. It made no sense. Clearly, he was capable.
Giles set the file aside, open on his desk to display Edgar's transcript side-by-side with the purloined paper, the verbose and stilted style of which bore no resemblence to Edgar's normal, flowing, witty style. Why he would even choose this paper to plagiarize, Giles couldn't imagine.
A knock sounded at the door, and Giles bid them enter. The door swung open and Roberts stepped in, holding it open and looking back. "Well?" he said.
A slouching teenager entered the room at the command, turning almost instantly to look at the print mounted on the wall beside the door. Something about the slope of his shoulders seemed familiar, but Giles wasn't sure if he'd even seen Edgar around campus before.
"Thank you, Roberts," he said, and the professor nodded and ducked back out, shutting the door behind him.
The boy continued to stare at the print.
"Edgar," Giles said, gently, not sure what the boy might be thinking. "We need to talk about this. I'm sure you're aware what a serious matter this--"
"You want to know why I did it," the boy said, suddenly.
His voice was young and smooth, cracking slightly still with the change of adolescence.
"Yes. I do."
The boy laughed, softly. Giles frowned.
"It was time," Edgar said.
Giles slipped his glasses back on, carefully, now trying to catch a glimpse of the boy's face in the glass covering the print. "Time?" he said. His heart began to beat faster, as the sense of unease grew. "Time for--?"
Then the boy turned around, and Giles could only stare, openmouthed, for a long moment. An all-too-familiar smirk, dark, glittering eyes, hands spread in a "ta-da" gesture. "Well, you were bound to see me, eventually. I'm enrolled in one of your classes next term." He paced towards the desk, his gaze steady on Giles'. "Oh, Ripper. Look at you. You got-- old." Ethan clucked his tongue in a mockery of disapproval.
What had he done? What had he traded for this, for youth, for a half-century more life? Such things required dark magic, darker than Giles would have thought even Ethan would be willing to gamble with. Ethan was leaning against the opposite side of his desk now, arms spread wide, hands braced on the edges of the polished hardwood.
Giles finally found his voice again, and kept it quiet and even. "You've given me grounds for expulsion right here. Even if I can't prove you've done whatever awful thing you've done."
Ethan smiled, the same slow, predator's smile he'd always had, and somehow seeing it on such a young face did nothing to lessen the danger in it. "So I have," he said, though his tone didn't even try to imply that that hadn't been entirely intentional.
"I assume you don't think I'm going to allow you to remain here. I'm certainly not going to allow you to become a Watcher, for god's sake."
"Oh, but who better?" Ethan said, softly. "I've seen the darkness, Rupert. I've lived it, breathed it. I have powers most of the saps at this school can't even comprehend."
"Powers you've never used for anything in your life beyond your own gain or entertainment."
Ethan straightened and began to stroll towards the end of the desk. Giles still couldn't take his eyes off of him. Ethan had been older than this when they'd met, eighteen to this new body's fifteen, but the difference hadn't been great. His wavy hair was cut short, now, in keeping with changed fashions, but the body beneath the white dress shirt and uniform-dictated navy trousers was very like the slim, long-limbed form Giles' sense memory had held onto for forty years--that same memory that made him keep an extra foot of safe space between himself and certain students of certain ages.
Ethan rounded the end of the desk and approached him, loosening his tie as he came. Nothing separated them but air.
"What--" Giles tried to say, but a slim, soft fingertip and a dark, burning gaze stopped his words. His body tightened with something that wasn't rage, and he ached with shame even as his cock hardened.
"Oh, I've rubbed my prick raw imagining this moment, Rupert," Ethan breathed, close enough Giles could almost taste his words. Giles only realized how tightly his fists were clenched when he suddenly felt the pain in his knuckles.
"So," Giles said, barely able to force words from his throat, "You spent four years here just to indulge your schoolboy-headmaster fantasy?"
Ethan slid into his lap, and Giles could no longer breathe. He was frozen, indecisive. Couldn't shove him away, couldn't hit a student--even if said student truly was a sixty-three-year-old chaos sorcerer. So he didn't move as Ethan inched deeper and deeper into his lap. Not until Ethan shifted the last hair's breadth closer, eliminating any air, any hope of escape, any space between them. Pressing their erections together and groaning, Ethan dropped his head back, his smooth, young face transformed with something like ecstasy.
"God!" Giles gasped, and his hips jolted up against the surprising weight of Ethan's slight frame. "God," he said, again, softer, and what he wanted to say was 'stop, please stop,' but he didn't, because Ethan wouldn't, Ethan would only laugh.
"Of course not, Rupert." He whispered into Giles' ear, licking him between words, sending shockwaves of lust through him. He could only squeeze his eyes shut, dig his nails into his palms. Ethan's slim hips rolled against him in a lazy, sure rhythm. "I intend to go through with this." That low, his voice became rough again, like it had been the last time Giles had seen him, when his throat had been gravelly with his age and years of cigarettes. "But right now I want you to fuck me, Ripper." Giles groaned. "I haven't been fucked since I changed. You have no idea how hard it was to wait. God, I'd forgotten. How badly I'd crave it at this age."
His hands, slim and long-fingered, slid down Giles' arms, and curled around his wrists, light as silk. Almost as though compelled, Giles' fists uncurled. He still felt paralyzed. He still could hardly think of anything but the slow movement of Ethan's body. Ethan pulled his hands up and placed them on his chest. Giles exhaled a shuddering breath, feeling the delicate rib cage beneath his palms that seemed large and clumsy against Ethan's smaller body.
Ethan was still straddling him, their groins still crushed together, but he was leaning back now, mirroring Giles' posture by placing his own hands on Giles' chest. Their eyes met again. Ethan's were calm and serious. His fingers curled around Giles' tie, and he extracted his other hand from under Giles' arm, reaching up and pulling off Giles' glasses. As he tossed them aside on the desk, Ethan said, "I'm not a child, Giles. You know that."
But god, he felt like one. Far too much for this to be right. "Why, Ethan?" Giles said, "Why are you here, why are you doing this?"
Ethan's hand slipped between them again, reaching up to slowly unbutton his own shirt. "Does it matter?"
"Yes," Giles said, "Yes, urgently."
Ethan's hand closed over the back of Giles' hand, and Giles was startled by the contrast of pale, smooth skin against his own rough, broad hand. Even as Giles was still looking at their hands, Ethan pulled them over, sliding Giles' palm over the exposed, hairless skin of his chest. "No, it doesn't," Ethan said. He leaned in again, closing the gap between them, trapping Giles' hand against the warmth of him. "Fuck me, Ripper," he whispered. "Please." His hips rolled again, and he groaned softly. "God, I'm going to come before you even touch me."
The last time Giles had been in bed with someone, he hadn't been able to maintain his erection long enough to penetrate her. In spite of, or possible in part because of, her insistence that it wasn't a problem, the humiliation alone had been enough to put him off of the whole idea. It wasn't as though his sex life had been precisely hopping before that, anyway, so it wasn't much of a loss.
Now, though... he hadn't been this hard in years. It could have been simply that it had been so long. But he knew better.
"Get up," he said, softly. "Bend over the desk."
Ethan obeyed immediately, a testament, Giles supposed, to the truth of the desperation in his voice. Giles fumbled off his own belt, opened his fly, pushed down his trousers, then reached for Ethan's.
"Slick in my front pocket," Ethan said, quickly. Giles' hand made a detour, grabbing the small tube before making quick work of Ethan's belt and fly.
His hand shook as he squeezed a drop of lube into his palm, but he felt nothing but pleasure as he swiped his fist down his shaft. Ethan shifted with impatience, then moaned as Giles stilled him with one hand.
For a moment, they both froze there, not moving but to breathe. Giles tried to think for a moment, but there was too much to take in. He shook his head once, then stepped up close, guiding his slick cock down the crack of Ethan's arse. Ethan shuddered all over. Giles shut his eyes as he felt puckered skin under the sensitive head of his cock.
"Don't *STOP*," Ethan snapped, "God, Rip--"
His word was lost in a cry as Giles pushed into him. Tight. God, he was tight, unbelievably.
"Fuck," Ethan said, "Fuck, wait, wait."
It was hell to stop, but he did. Opened his eyes, saw Ethan's hands clenched white-knuckled tight on the edge of the desk.
"Fuck," Ethan said again. He flexed his body cautiously, pushing back just millimeters deeper up Giles' shaft. Giles hissed a breath and tried to stay still.
"God," Ethan said, "Forgot how..." He grunted. "How that--"
Giles focused on breathing, tried not to think of the hot grip around him, tried not to obey the animal part of him that demanded he pound into the body before him. It seemed like hours, before Ethan rocked back slightly, again, groaning, then said, "Yes. Yes, ok."
Giles exhaled in relief, and pushed forward, pulled back, beginning to slowly, shallowly fuck him.
Ethan was braced over the desk, legs and arms spread wide, his head hanging down, his whole torso expanding and contracting with his breath. "Yes," he said, again, "Yes, yes, yes. Ripper. God, Ripper."
Giles reached up beneath him with his still-slick hand, and wrapped it around Ethan's cock. Pumped it slowly in time with his painfully slow thrusts.
Ethan cursed once more, and went suddenly tense. Rupert startled himself with a soft laugh, as he felt Ethan's come on his fingers. "Oh, hell," Ethan sighed, "That's--that's--"
"The downside... of a... fifteen-year-old body?"
"Fuck you," Ethan said.
Giles replied with a harder thrust, going deeper than he had been. Ethan grunted, and then, on the next inward thrust, rocked back to meet him. "Deeper," he said. Giles was all too happy to comply, keeping his movements slow, but pressing deeper each time. Ethan was panting, sweating, but keeping up a litany of approval.
The build up was long and slow, but the climax, when it came, was intense. Giles felt it approaching, shut his eyes, and pushed deep, shuddering as his body gave in to the release.
He stayed inside Ethan until his cock softened enough to slide free on its own. Then he opened his eyes. "I *am* going to expel you, you know," he said.
Ethan turned over with a slow shuffling of long, lanky limbs, leaning his bare ass against the edge of the desk, unashamed by his exposed, softening cock. "No, you aren't," he said.
"Of course I am."
Ethan just smiled, "You won't. Would you like to know why?"
"If you think that I'm desperate enough to keep you around simply for sexual favors, or from some misguided sense of guilt or obligation, you're very much mistaken."
"Oh, I don't." Ethan's smile hadn't wavered. "Rupert, love... you're not going to expel me because everything that just happened here... I caught every moment of on film."
He slipped out from under Giles, nonchalantly pulling up and refastening his trousers. He buttoned his shirt and straighted his tie as he crossed the room. At the door, he turned around, smiling back at Giles. He winked, and said, "Be seeing you," then walked out the door.
The End