tarnished -- part one -- trekker |
Chapter Eleven | |
Chemistry |
A few weeks later, Giles had scoured the phone book and finally found that Ethan had chosen Thomas's name as his alias. Giles had assumed it would be one of them, but he'd half-suspected Ethan would have chosen Randall simply out of impertinence. Thomas, however, was the least offensive of the lot, and thus, had been the last name Giles had checked.
Bad as it was, though, that during Ethan's last disappearing act--during which, Giles assumed, he was off wreaking relatively quiet havoc for pay--Giles had actually broken down and looked up his address, what was worse was that now, at ten-thirty on a week night, he was standing at the door to Ethan's building. Even worse than all that was when he walked inside, down the stairs, up the hall and knocked on the door of apartment five.
He could feel tingling wards nuzzle against his knuckles, and it made him tuck his hand away in his pocket as quickly as he could after knocking, though he wasn't sure whether that was a specific compulsion built into the ward, or simply his own distaste for the intimate tickle of the magic. He waited a few moments, his mind playing through various scenarios... Ethan could be out somewhere, or this may not actually be his flat at all, just some chap who happened to have the name Thomas Sutcliffe...
But then the locks rattled and the old door opened and it was definitely Ethan.
"Giles," he said, sounding surprised.
And then Giles wondered what the hell he was doing there, what had made him think this was ok. And he shook his head and started to walk back toward the the exit.
Ethan didn't say anything. Giles had expected him to argue, or cajole. He'd expected him to even run after and catch him, stop him. But he didn't.
Giles stopped at the exterior door.
He couldn't leave.
He could, actually. He didn't want to.
Every day seemed to be a long one, recently, today seemed especially so. His mind hadn't stopped chasing itself in circles since that morning. Xander and Anya were getting married today. He could have gone. He had been planning to go. But when it came time to book the plane tickets, he found he couldn't bear the thought of returning to Sunnydale. He didn't want to see Buffy in pain, or worry over Willow and her magic, or spend the day wondering if Xander was really ready to be in a commitment like this.
No matter how often he told himself they were no longer his responsibility, he couldn't seem to believe it.
He turned and walked back up the hall. Ethan merely stepped back and let him in without a word.
The basement apartment was small, not much more than one room and a bathroom, but it was neatly kept, with fresh paint on the walls, and screens to partition off an area to serve as a bedroom, with a table boxing in the kitchen area. The most notable trait of the place was the small shrine against the back wall. Giles glanced at that briefly, then looked away.
"So," Ethan said, as he shut the door, "Why are you here?"
"Why do you think I'm here?" Giles said, looking around the apartment, still, but not at Ethan.
"You tell me," Ethan said, conversationally. Giles heard his footsteps approaching and tensed, but Ethan stopped and didn't touch him.
Why was he here? He was here because he was a fool and a weakling, that was why.
He knew why, in actuality, he was there. Putting it into words, however, was proving more difficult than he would have anticipated.
Finally, he shut his eyes and said, "Please, don't make me say it."
Then Ethan's hand cupped the back of his neck, shockingly warm after the chilled drizzle outside, and Ethan said, "That will do for now."
Giles pulled off his coat and let it fall to the floor, unheeded, and Ethan's hands were unbuttoning Giles shirt even as Giles was still turning around to face him. The shirt was gone a moment later in a rushed flurry of both of their hands, and then Giles reached for the button of his trousers.
"No," Ethan said. "Leave them for now."
Giles only reacted to this with a slight furrowing of his brow, then he pulled his hands away. Ethan curled his hands around Giles' arms, just above his elbow, and walked him back across the room, to stand against the closed bathroom door. Lightly, Ethan pushed his arms up and spread them across the wall, drifting his fingers along the sensitive skin all the way out to Giles' wrists, then pulling his hands away. Giles felt a gentle force holding him in place, and sighed softly.
But then, Ethan laid one hand softly over the center of his chest, and he tensed again.
"Ethan--"
"Hush," Ethan said. "I won't hurt you."
Still, Giles tensed as the first probing tendrils of magic trickled through him.
This was too much. Going too far.
But as Ethan's magic swelled to a crest in him, and Ethan coaxed Giles' own neglected powers to the surface, it felt good, like it always had. Giles rolled his head back against the wall and took a deep breath, and felt it beginning to pull him in, pull him down. Or was it up? Didn't matter a moment later.
He didn't hear or see Ethan's reaction, but he could feel it, like an echo, feel the pleasure and the power.
He opened his eyes and the room looked different. Amazing. He could see the eddies of power moving in the air, the wards around the doors and the window, the electricity pulsing in its metal veins in the walls. It was a staggering wealth of information, too much for the human mind to process on its own, but between his magic and Ethan's it wasn't destroying him, it was lifting him out of the normal bounds of human existence.
He breathed out, and saw his breath in the air, saw the trace of life force in that breath, that would be absent from any air a vampire moved.
He turned his head to the side, slowly, and the shrine was a bright halo of magic, that his mind called red, though such distinctions truly didn't apply. He could feel everything. Molecules of air, the tremors of the rain drops hitting the windows and the walls. He could taste Ethan's scent in the air.
Could *definitely* feel as Ethan sent a frission of power to him and his trousers fell apart at the seams and fell away along with his pants, socks, shoes, leaving him bare against the door. He pushed his feet further apart, and felt the force pull his legs against the wall as sure as gravity.
"Beautiful," Ethan purred, the vibrations of his voice sending a disrupted scurry through the energies of the air.
Giles rolled his head around to face front again, feeling lethargic and heavy.
Ethan was the most amazing thing in the room. Blazing with life, with power. Blood moving through veins, heart pulsing in his chest, lungs pulling air in and pressing it out. The electrical impulses of his nerves chasing up and down his body, hot yellow energy that concentrated in his spine and in his skull. A glow in his eyes was his soul.
As he stalked forward, he grew hotter, brighter with each step. Desire, too hot to name a color for, was amazing to see, even if it had been there when they'd done this when they were younger, even if Ethan's desire for him was plainly obvious given all they'd done...
"Oh, my Ripper," Ethan said, as he touched Giles again.
He slid his hands, palms flat, a little ways up Giles' stomach, so that they lay on either side of his sternum at the base of his ribs, then Ethan said, "You may not control your bloody adrenal glands... but I can."
And immediately Giles felt the push of magic, then the rush of adrenaline, kicking up his heart rate, sending trembles through his muscles. Ethan slid on hand around and then between Giles' lower back and the wall, tendrils of magic reaching in for a cluster of nerves there in his spine. A jolt of pure pleasure, and then Giles' cock swelled harder, enough to ache in that good, desperate way.
"Oh, god," he breathed, as Ethan moved his fingers in a small circular massage over that spot on his spine and smiled dark and dangerous.
After he pulled his hand out from behind Giles, he flicked it quickly between Giles' legs, a momentary contact with Giles' balls, a tickle of magic and a rush of desire. Giles closed his eyes and leaned his head back, groaning. His body burned as it might after hours of teasing foreplay.
Then both of Ethan's hands cupped around his skull, one on either side. Warm, strong fingers under his hair. Another push of magic, directed, Giles could only muzzily guess, towards his hypothalamus or something of that nature, and the rush only strengthened.
Giles lips felt dry and parted, and he licked at them, then turned his head to the side, ducked down, until he could nuzzle at Ethan's wrist, and could just barely reach it with the tip of his tongue, get a hint of the taste of Ethan's skin. He strained to get more, until Ethan obliged and moved one hand around, let Giles catch the tips of his fingers between his lips and suck and lick.
"Oh, yes," Ethan murmured, and even his voice felt good, vibrating against Giles' skin. Ethan rubbed Giles' chest slowly with his free hand.
"What do you want?" Ethan said.
There were a lot of answers to that question. He wanted peace of mind, he wanted Buffy to be happy, he wanted Ethan to touch his cock already, but for some reason the most pressing desire of all at that moment was...
"Kiss me."
He saw and felt the shimmer of magic as his bonds released him at the same moment Ethan slipped his arms around his back and complied with his request, kissed him deeply, his bread tickling Giles' face. Giles kissed him back, hungrier for him than he'd been in as long as he could remember clearly. He raked his hands up Ethan's back, desperate to pull that clothed, lean body against his own.
"Good, good, good," Ethan rambled, heated praise as Giles propelled them both across the room, hand still moving almost frantically over Ethan's body, reveling in the smooth planes and hard angles. Still kissing, loving the taste of Ethan's tongue and lips.
He pushed Ethan down to sit on the edge of his bed, and went to his knees, nuzzling swiftly down his body as he went. His hands fumbled, shaking too badly for skill, as he opened Ethan's trousers, but Ethan certainly didn't seem to mind.
He only hesitated a moment, once he had the hard heat of Ethan's cock in his hand. Then he leaned in and took it in his mouth, moved his tongue gently against the head. Ethan grunted and shifted, and Giles realized he wasn't entirely sure if that was a good sound or a bad sound, and now he was beginning to remember that this was actually a rather complex operation, and he was currently nearly out of his mind on hormones and having trouble remembering to keep his teeth out of the way and remembering whether or not the slit at the head of Ethan's penis was or was not too sensitive to be touched...
Fellatio was clearly *not* like riding a bicycle.
Still, Ethan buried his hand in Giles' hair, and groaned a 'yes,' so he must have been doing something right.
Besides, another thing he'd forgotten was how much he actually *liked* doing this.
He allowed Ethan to slip in a bit deeper, holding off enough to stay well away from any danger of inciting his own gag reflex, because god knew that wasn't sexy, and worked his tongue against the smooth, loose foreskin.
Swallowed and took a shaky breath through his nose, and loved Ethan's soft babble of pleasure.
Sense memory and old habits slowly coming back to him as he went, he drew it out, made it take as long as he could, pulling away whenever Ethan neared orgasm, letting him cool down and ignoring his curses, until finally Ethan said, "Dammit, Giles, get me off. Now."
Then Giles smiled and let him come.
"You bastard," Ethan said, after he'd caught his breath. There was a gruff affection in his voice. Giles sat back on his heels and smiled up at him, and then Ethan gestured and was naked. A moment later, he slid down off the bed to kneel in front of Giles, then reached down and began to stroke Giles' cock with a somehow slick hand.
Giles realized then that his ability to see the power in the room had faded a great deal during his ministrations, but Ethan still seemed to be commanding it. Giles didn't care, though, really. He just shut his eyes and enjoyed Ethan's hand on him, coaxing him back to full hardness where his erection had flagged a bit.
Then Ethan pushed him backwards down on the floor, straddled him, gripped his cock, and sank down onto him with a soft cry.
Giles whimpered and pushed up, sinking deep, so good. Ethan's hands slid up his arms, grabbed his wrists and pulled Giles' hands up over his head, pinning them to the floor at the wrists. He looked down as he began to move. Move slowly. So slowly. Undulating gently, moving only small centimeters at a time on Giles' cock. Payback, no doubt, for Giles' teasing.
Giles loved it.
His heart raced as he looked up into Ethan's eyes, kept his hips firmly down against the floor, resisting the urge to thrust, letting Ethan run this.
His gaze wandered, taking in the sheen of sweat that highlighted the geography of Ethan. The smooth hollow at the base of his throat, the lump of his Adam's apple that moved as he swallowed hard. His pecs, better developed than they had been that last time they'd seen each other in Sunnydale, still covered in a thin coat of shiny, curled hairs, which looked fascinating, catching the half-light in the flat.
Ethan's stomach, moving with his breath and with his slow rhythm. His muscles were tensed, and caught the light and threw shadows, not at all unnaturally body-builder-like, in fact, showing the signs of middle-age, but still sharply defined in that light. Fascinating and alive and male. Just like Ethan's quiescent cock, down in the shadow of their bodies. And behind that, Giles' own cock, stiff and shining with lubricant, and disappearing into Ethan's body.
Giles breath left him in a hard rush, and he couldn't look away.
Then Ethan rocked back, hard, abruptly taking him in all the way, and he dropped his head back and they both cried out at the feeling, and after that, there seemed no more reason for restraint, and he shoved up each time Ethan dropped down. Fast and hard and good.
A few minutes later, he came, and a few moments after that, he gasped, "God. Love you."
Then Ethan dropped down beside him on the floor, and they were both quiet for awhile.
Every moment after that, a bit more of the magic ebbed away, until the world had gone back to its normal state of being, dark and dull and quiet, and the flat was once again nothing but a run-down one-room. The hormones, too, cleared from his bloodstream gradually, and as they did, something became more and more apparent.
His mind slowly worked over the feeling of something's-wrong, until it all made sense and he brought his knee up, kicked Ethan off him and lunged to his feet.
"You fucking-- You-- Dammit, Ethan. You can't--"
"Can't what?" Ethan inquired, casually propping himself up on his elbow. "Mess with your mind a bit? So sorry. Wasn't aware there were limits." He smirked and shook his head. "The tragedy of bad communication skills. Besides, all I did was tweak a few neurochemicals. Nothing all that major."
"You made me-- You-- Stay the hell away from me."
*Made me think I *loved* you.*
Giles shuddered and stalked away, remembering only at the last moment that Ethan had destroyed his trousers. Angrily, without a word, he raided Ethan's dresser for a pair of sweatpants, then threw on his own shirt and stormed towards the door.
Ethan stopped him, saying, "Rupert."
He glared over his shoulder. Ethan was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, smirk still firmly in place, and apparently unconcerned with his nudity.
"Love you, too, dear," Ethan said.
Giles slammed the door hard enough to rattle the frame on the way out.
tarnished -- part one -- trekker |