Buffy: The Vampire Slayer and the characters are the property of UPN, 20th Century Fox, Joss Whedon, and the Kuzuis, among others. My only profit is feedback. All characters are over the age of consent, and you should be too. Don't pass this around without my permission.
This is set in season 4, when Spike had a chip put in his head by the Iniative. If the response is strong enough (story or pairing suggestions, praise, constructive criticism, etc.), I'll make this a series.
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Spike ground his cigarette into the coffee table.
"Buggering Buffy bint." he muttered to himself.
There he'd been, happy as you please, ready to pounce on the Slayer for ruining his plans yet again, and suddenly he got zapped in the head. It got worse. Locked in a cage, had to fight his way out, had to practically beg Buffy and her fellow stuporheroes for protection, only got that protection in exchange for information on the people who zapped him, then had to spend days chained to chairs and bathtubs. Yesterday, he had finally been let loose, but that bliss was tempered by knowing the bitch only freed him because he was helpless, impotent. The mad scientists had put a chip in his head. He couldn't bite, couldn't kill, couldn't hurt, and no doses of Vampiragara were in sight.
Spike sank back into the leather couch. He'd show Buffy. Show her he didn't need brute force or undead powers to best her increasingly skinny ass.
As for the rest of 'em...didn't much register on his radar. Willow was sour and sad since her pet doggie up and ditched her. Xander was shaggin' an ex-demon now, his third or fourth, but this one said she loved him. Sometimes he popped by to insult Spike, smirk at him. Last time, Spike had just spread his legs, licked his lips, and waited for Xander to gape and stammer like a size queen playing "I'll show you mine" with John Holmes and Russell Crowe. Worked like a charm.
Spike knew he was better than the lot. They were so bumbling and whiny and...good. Blech.
"Feet off the table, if you please."
That was Rupert Giles. Buffy's former Watcher, a tightly wound, stiff-upper-lip kind of guy who had been the subject of more than one Daddy fantasy for Spike, even though he was over 100 years older than Daddy.
Spike ground the heel of his cowboy boot against the edge of the table, and jumped from the couch, strolling over to the kitchen.
Giles had a wild past he'd been too ashamed to admit most of the dirty details of. Whatever he had done back then, time had taken care of him. He was near 50, but had a toned frame with few hints of flab. Not a gym junkie, but he could take care of himself in a fight.
Spike propped his elbow against the counter, Giles washing breakfast dishes in the sink. Watched Giles shoulders twisting under his green pullover as he scrubbed.
"Y'know, Rupert, I gotta admit the true fringe benefit of being your prisoner is seeing what you buried under all that tweed."
He smirked at Giles small, buried wince after the use of the R-word. The fact that the Scooby mutts only called him Giles had told Spike that his first name must be off limits. Giles went back to his washing as Spike began stealthily stepping forward, muttering just loud enough to be heard.
"Buffy ever tell ya how well-preserved you are? She would, if she still gave a fuck 'bout her dear old Watchdog. Must be sad, put out to pasture this way. No money, no job, no friends..."
Spike closed the distance between them, his lanky frame a few feet away from Giles. It had been a dull day, Buffy's friends and their rules were dull, and Spike was expert at breaking the rules.
"Least you got that nice arse."
With those words, he grabbed Rupert's tight, blue-denimed cheeks between his hands, and squeezed roughly. A victory for him, he thought, until he heard the plate breaking in the drain and his form being slammed against the fridge.
A box of Cheerios fell on Spike's head as Giles glared at him. A deadly, deadly glare, not the kindly librarian look.
"Do not ever touch me again."
He was ruining Spike's favorite black t-shirt - only black t-shirt - with his death grip, but Spike barely noticed. As the kitchen stayed silent and Giles didn't break eye contact, Spike grew intoxicated from the hot puffs of breath blowing into his face, from a face so close to him their noses nearly touched. If not for the damn chip, Spike would shove Rupert onto the floor and take his arse as a trophy. Course, Buffy would probably save him in the nick of time, like she always did...
Spike had an idea.
"Some saps read to senior citizens, but me, I'm more personal." Spike wagged his eyebrows as his taunting words left his mouth.
Giles's glare began melting into confusion, but not in time to escape Spike's hands on the back of his head, running through his brown-grey locks as their mouths crushed together. Giles struggled as Spike pushed their bodies against the counter, and should have won since Spike had ability to hurt him, but he hadn't felt a man's grip, a man's lips, a man's crotch grinding against his, in too many years. Whimpering from the contact between them, his lips opened, letting Spike ravage his mouth with his cool tongue.
Spike went out of his way to grind his tempting hips against the denim-clad package interlocked with him. Placing Giles on top of the counter, he shrugged off his leather duster, giving him more room as he tore Giles thin sweater from his body.
The cool air hardened Giles nipples as Spike bent over to nip at the erect nubs, Spike running his long fingers through and tugging at the tufts of hair, sliding his tongue along the forested areas.
Spike stepped back, stripping off his black tee and unbuckling his pants, admiring the pecs and flat stomach of a man Giles age, admiring the patches of fur.
"Shit, I thought Sunnydale had a no-chest-hair rule."
Panting, Giles repeatedly told himself this was wrong, he shouldn't let one of Buffy's most dangerous foes seduce him, unfasten his slacks, pull them down along with his boxers as Giles roughly lifted his hips to help the journey.
Chilled hands ran up Giles hairy thighs, the thumbs scraping against Giles crown as he squirmed, groaned, contemplated kicking Spike in the groin but instead reached forward and pulled his jeans down. Stammered at the hard 11 inches slapping against Spike's abs. Spike glanced between his legs, grinning as he traced his index finger against Giles foreskin.
"Nice piece of meat, hmm? Only gift my father gave me."
He slapped the donkey dick with his palm, grabbed Giles palm to stroke him as he strokes Giles own thick girth.
"Guess we have something in common, Rupert."
Spike tugged at the long foreskin, sliding the sheath back at an achingly slow pace. Giles did the same to Spike, wrapping his thighs around Spike's lean hips and yanking him forward, Spike kissing his chest as he slid his thumbnail over Giles sensitive pink head, scraped inside the painfully sensitive slit. Yanking at Spike's heavy, egg-sized low-hangers, Giles let the back of his right foot slide up and down Spike's chiseled buttocks, taking Spike's manhood between the big and second toe of his left foot and harshly squeezing, grooving across the tumescent shaft.
Spike sank his teeth into the juicy nipples before him, his leaking prick bumping against the kitchen cabinets. Stopped attacking the succulent man-tits long enough to tilt his head into direct eye contact with Giles, smiling at him as both men continued their slow strokes of the other's erection.
"Imagine Buffy walkin' through that door right now, seeing her Gilesy-wilesy all naked and sweaty, letting the ultimate Big Bad get between his knees, suck out all the dirty little secrets."
Giles grunted, squirming in the death grip on his meat, a stream of pre-cum pooling below his large head. Spike pumped harder, let him drown in his black, merciless eyes.
"What would she say, seeing Spike jerk her daddy off? See the sweat on your back, in your crack while I fuck your brains out? And you cum and cum all over the kitchen, with her watching, her seeing you for the old whore you are. All it takes, right? See her trying not to stare, knowing how you slobber while I spike you, knowing you had me and Angel and popped Xander's cherry, made him as much of a man as he'll ever be, sittin' on your fat Watcher dick...milked in your own kitchen, pump out your cream and put it in their coffee, Willow and Xander and Buffy tasting, swallowing Giles man-seed, same as if they were licking your 10-incher, begging for librarian log, big thick cock to chew on..."
Sweat flooding from every pore, Giles threw his head back, bucked his hips a final time, the filthy mental images in his mind getting the best of him.
"I HATE YO.......UUUUUNNNNGHHHHHHH....."
Ashamed, Giles shot load after load into Spike's expert hand. Halfway through, Spike lifted his own stuttering erection up, balancing it on the countertop as volleys of ropey cum sprayed across Giles stomach and simultaneously ejaculating penis. The kitchen filled with moans, cries of pure lust and sorrow, until they had coated each other's lower bodies in an ocean of sperm.
Spike sank to his knees, suckling away to lick at Giles thighs and the crusty contents of his drooping foreskin. Giles could only watch helplessly at this tongue bath in his lap, trying to hold back tears and rage at the unforgiveable situation he had gotten himself into.
When Spike began darting his tongue between Giles spread legs, Giles suddenly had enough. Ignoring the jolt of excitement, he pushed Spike to the floor, getting off the counter, pulling his underwear and blue jeans over his sore penis as Spike's hand ran down his hard, hair-dusted ass, making him shiver. Walking out of the room, towards the cleansing properties of the shower, he didn't even bother to look back, only stopping long enough to seriously intone, in a flat voice:
"I shan't forget this, Spike. You have fair warning."
Giles walked away, probably not noticing Spike's eye-roll. Spike stayed on the floor a few moments longer, covering his hands in sticky semen and licking the fluid away like nectar. He chuckled as he did so. This was the perfect way to get back at Buffy. Show her what her friends were like. Starting with Giles, then Xander...
Maybe this chip wasn't so bad after all. Spike took a final, greedy swipe at his sticky fingers.
"Least I've improved my protein intake."