FIC: Threesome Threeways I: Learning to Be Flexible (Giles/Illyria/Spike)
My second and final posting. It is a tiny bit different to the first...
*shifty eyes*
Title: Learning to Be Flexible
Word count: c1550
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Giles/Illyria/Spike
Summary: three non-teenagers stuck in the stronghold of the Slayerettes. They can’t play gin rummy all the time... Can they?
Warning: Gratuitous smut, verging on crackfic. I really have no idea where this came from. But you did say the community welcomes ALL pairings...
“Gotta new chew toy for your girls, Watcher.”
“Uhm...in this part of the world, Spike, ‘Hello’ is a customary greeting. Right before ‘I haven’t seen you since I returned from the dead, how’ve you been?’”
“Giles, I’ve got a mightily pissed off Ancient of Days in the trunk of my car. Chitchat and lapsang souchong come later, when we’ve got her somewhere secure.”
“Her? You mean... dear gods alive, you’ve brought Illyria here? In the boot?”
“Good, gossip mill’s been grinding then. Yes. Since her Highness is now surplus to requirements in Angel’s new Hell A, thought you might be able to put her up for a while. And she’s in the boot because firstly, all-blue women draw unwelcome attention in rural Scotland and secondly, because she’s overexcited. Too much plant life. She...really likes greenery.”
In Giles’s many years as a Watcher, he’d never quite found the perfect words for situations like this, but, “Right, well, we’ve got a free dungeon or two” seemed to cover it sufficiently.
*
Training up hundreds of super-strong teenagers in the torrid atmosphere of the remote Slayer Central had already begun to grind down Giles’s patience when Spike showed up. He’d never fancied the role of an ordinary headmaster, even, but this was much worse. The pressure of being Ultimate Boss of a new age... well, it didn’t leave much lapsang/chitchat downtime, that’s for sure. His colleagues kept a too-respectful distance, in thrall to his absolute power over the new world order. And, though he didn’t exactly welcome the two newcomers, they did make a pleasant change from the lipstick-wearing, period-pain suffering, Former-Best-Friends-extreme-feuding hordes he felt so ill-equipped to deal with en masse. Both were indeed good for fight training, once Illyria could be convinced to leave the heather alone.
They also made him feel younger. Well, slightly less ancient. After over a year spent in the company of junior women who thought the Beatles were a misspelling, the advent of a man who fondly recalled the demise of the bustle, not to mention a... person... who thought the Ascent of Man rather novel, was utterly refreshing to Giles’ social life.
The three began, cautiously, to meet on a routine basis. Pre-dinner drinks (with people who liked whisky). Post-dinner drinks (further opportunities to drink the water of life!). And... well, that was about it. But booze in bearable company was a new blessing to be counted. Giles began to see a future in which he did more than grimly endure the hardworking months between the occasional visits of his former Sunnydale gang, whenever they could pop in and break from saving the world.
*
Months passed. The novelty wore off. All three began to share the feeling of being bored, stifled, even a little desperate. Giles was all too often reminded one of his primary grievances - deepest rural Scotland and constantly overseeing all these girls without vacation time meant...
“Absolutely bloody no one to shag.”
Well, at least that confirmed Spike was keeping his hands off the Slayerettes. Giles had wondered about that old weakness, but in fact Spike seemed to regard the whole tribe as undifferentiated annoying little sisters.
That Illyria thought along the same lines was news to Giles. But apparently she did. “The urge to mate is insistent. Why do we not comply?”
“Told you before, Blue. You’d probably tear me in half before we got to the good part.”
“But you are a vampire of courage. Is it not worth the risk? Besides, you are two and I am one. Surely this restores some balance?”
Giles very slowly and deliberately slipped off his glasses, got out a hankie and polished them till they were pristine. He was not going to admit he’d just been propositioned into a threesome with a vampire and an Old One. Really, definitely not. His recent life had not prepared him for dealing with the situation any other way than feigning total ignorance.
He drank some whisky. He looked at his neatly-trimmed fingernails, pulled up one sock, opened his mouth to say something bright and irrelevant about current affairs and...
“The human is keen. Let us couple without delay.”
Bugger. Bugger. Old One senses evidently couldn’t be fooled. When Giles looked up, he found Spike also regarding him with interest. Interest focusing just below Giles’ belt, where millennia of god-hood were not required to detect the definite stirring.
He really did consider walking out, leaving all this madness behind him. Really. The fact that, as he considered, he reached out to Illyria and ran a finger slowly down her throat to the edge of her... garment...towards those small, perfect, blue-tinged breasts in no way invalidated his refusal to...
(Giles, you’re going to fuck a vampire and God King. Have the decency to admit it to yourself. Then shut up and enjoy it.)
*
Giles had last had sex two years previously. It had been pleasant. Warm. Companionable. Opening up a depressing prospect of mid-life decline into camaraderie and liking rather than raw lust.
Turned out he still had the raw lust. Very much so.
Not that he’d given much thought to Spike as a lover (at least, not for himself), despite several years of proximity. But they were touching now, nonetheless, direct and unembarrassed by mutual need. That tight hard-bodied intensity awoke welcome memories of a younger Giles, laughing at convention as he dragged open Randal’s shirt and ran fingernails over the well-formed muscle and stiff nipples uncovered. Grinning at the passing student punting parties who were tutting at such public displays and the youths’ evident intent to take it much further as soon as they could find shelter. Young people can be such prudes.
Old Ones are not prudes. Giles would have guessed this, but even so he was enjoying the honesty of Illyria’s comments on the male bodies displayed for her.
“Cold and hot, yet the response is identical. This sensation pleases me,” she stated calmly, holding a dripping, needy cock in each hand, stroking with enjoyment and skill. The obvious gratification of Giles and Spike was apparently reciprocated. “I warm and yield. It becomes necessary for me to mate.” She frowned. “But we are three. I have consulted authoritative works and found no preferred method for such a combination.”
“Honestly, Blue, it’s one of those things you make up as you go.” Spike ran on, speaking to Giles and unusually hesitant... “I’d better go first though, maybe. Not sure what... well... s’prob’ly better to have vampire healing, right? Just in case.”
Yes. So Spike too wasn’t sure exactly how much humanity Illyria had when it came to actual organs. Either that, or he just wanted dibs. Giles gave way gracefully (and with some cowardly relief). Besides, he really rather wanted to explore the vampire a little. Been playing it straight for far too long. He paused politely till the pair were well engaged (promisingly, Spike hadn’t dissolved into dust and ash on contact with the godly loins).
Giles silently praised the lord for the missionary position - so accommodating to threesome dynamics. Illyria was spread-eagled, watching with interest as Spike pushed up and showed her the place where they joined; pale flesh, blue hairs tangling with dark, inches of cock visible as he moved smoothly and with obvious enjoyment. Giles, lying close already, moved closer still, absorbing the smell and sound of pleasurable fucking. His wet thumb, exploring Illyria, found and toyed with her sweet spot, feeling her roll and buck with the caress. Just like he remembered.
(A tiny back-brain voice briefly reminded him of the whole dead man/ancient being freakishness - this really wasn’t a situation he was equipped to remember. He ignored its irrelevance.)
Time for some action towards Giles’ own satisfaction, now insistently demanded by his desperately roused body. Spike shivered happily at the touch of slippery lubricated fingers at his arse, shifting position to kneel and spread for Giles. Illyria, slender thighs now splayed across Spike’s legs, hips hitched high, continued to observe and comment with intense interest.
“The moment of dual penetration has come. The vampire is increasingly engorged. I feel you rousing him, and he moves in me in response.”
Spike gave a half-laugh, contorted through pleasure and focus. “Not wrong, Highness. Not gonna last too long with the two of you going at me like this.”
“Postponement is unnecessary.” Illyria’s voice was expressive, of a sudden: taut and shaky, on the edge of coming.
Things got a little complex at this point. Illyria’s humanity was evidently only organ deep. As she climaxed she lost that. Time split and shifted half a beat left (or possibly up, down, strange or peppermint), just for a breath or two.
It was... not unpleasant. Better than that, in fact. It was incredible. Illyria took Giles and Spike along with her for the dimensional ride - three incompatibly different beings throbbing and gasping together in harmonious orgasm.
(Giles finally stopped thinking.)
*
Normality returned fully, after what later experimentation would establish to be precisely 2 minutes 14 seconds. If you could call it normality, mused Giles, sliding his hand out from under Illyria’s still-quivering buttock, pulling back from Spike’s arse and generally trying to restore a sense of Watcherly decorum.
(Not successfully, but he truly didn’t care.)
“Right then. That’s worth repeating.” Bless Spike, Giles thought in a brief and uncharacteristic mood of sex-based affection. Always to the point. And in this case, right on the mark too.
“Perhaps regularly,” Giles agreed. “Wednesdays at ten?”
“I am in accord.” Illyria blinked slowly up at her menfolk. “But next time, I shall be on top.”
~~~~~~~~~
Want to read the Spike and Illyria takes on this? Follow me...
*shifty eyes*
Title: Learning to Be Flexible
Word count: c1550
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Giles/Illyria/Spike
Summary: three non-teenagers stuck in the stronghold of the Slayerettes. They can’t play gin rummy all the time... Can they?
Warning: Gratuitous smut, verging on crackfic. I really have no idea where this came from. But you did say the community welcomes ALL pairings...
“Gotta new chew toy for your girls, Watcher.”
“Uhm...in this part of the world, Spike, ‘Hello’ is a customary greeting. Right before ‘I haven’t seen you since I returned from the dead, how’ve you been?’”
“Giles, I’ve got a mightily pissed off Ancient of Days in the trunk of my car. Chitchat and lapsang souchong come later, when we’ve got her somewhere secure.”
“Her? You mean... dear gods alive, you’ve brought Illyria here? In the boot?”
“Good, gossip mill’s been grinding then. Yes. Since her Highness is now surplus to requirements in Angel’s new Hell A, thought you might be able to put her up for a while. And she’s in the boot because firstly, all-blue women draw unwelcome attention in rural Scotland and secondly, because she’s overexcited. Too much plant life. She...really likes greenery.”
In Giles’s many years as a Watcher, he’d never quite found the perfect words for situations like this, but, “Right, well, we’ve got a free dungeon or two” seemed to cover it sufficiently.
*
Training up hundreds of super-strong teenagers in the torrid atmosphere of the remote Slayer Central had already begun to grind down Giles’s patience when Spike showed up. He’d never fancied the role of an ordinary headmaster, even, but this was much worse. The pressure of being Ultimate Boss of a new age... well, it didn’t leave much lapsang/chitchat downtime, that’s for sure. His colleagues kept a too-respectful distance, in thrall to his absolute power over the new world order. And, though he didn’t exactly welcome the two newcomers, they did make a pleasant change from the lipstick-wearing, period-pain suffering, Former-Best-Friends-extreme-feuding hordes he felt so ill-equipped to deal with en masse. Both were indeed good for fight training, once Illyria could be convinced to leave the heather alone.
They also made him feel younger. Well, slightly less ancient. After over a year spent in the company of junior women who thought the Beatles were a misspelling, the advent of a man who fondly recalled the demise of the bustle, not to mention a... person... who thought the Ascent of Man rather novel, was utterly refreshing to Giles’ social life.
The three began, cautiously, to meet on a routine basis. Pre-dinner drinks (with people who liked whisky). Post-dinner drinks (further opportunities to drink the water of life!). And... well, that was about it. But booze in bearable company was a new blessing to be counted. Giles began to see a future in which he did more than grimly endure the hardworking months between the occasional visits of his former Sunnydale gang, whenever they could pop in and break from saving the world.
*
Months passed. The novelty wore off. All three began to share the feeling of being bored, stifled, even a little desperate. Giles was all too often reminded one of his primary grievances - deepest rural Scotland and constantly overseeing all these girls without vacation time meant...
“Absolutely bloody no one to shag.”
Well, at least that confirmed Spike was keeping his hands off the Slayerettes. Giles had wondered about that old weakness, but in fact Spike seemed to regard the whole tribe as undifferentiated annoying little sisters.
That Illyria thought along the same lines was news to Giles. But apparently she did. “The urge to mate is insistent. Why do we not comply?”
“Told you before, Blue. You’d probably tear me in half before we got to the good part.”
“But you are a vampire of courage. Is it not worth the risk? Besides, you are two and I am one. Surely this restores some balance?”
Giles very slowly and deliberately slipped off his glasses, got out a hankie and polished them till they were pristine. He was not going to admit he’d just been propositioned into a threesome with a vampire and an Old One. Really, definitely not. His recent life had not prepared him for dealing with the situation any other way than feigning total ignorance.
He drank some whisky. He looked at his neatly-trimmed fingernails, pulled up one sock, opened his mouth to say something bright and irrelevant about current affairs and...
“The human is keen. Let us couple without delay.”
Bugger. Bugger. Old One senses evidently couldn’t be fooled. When Giles looked up, he found Spike also regarding him with interest. Interest focusing just below Giles’ belt, where millennia of god-hood were not required to detect the definite stirring.
He really did consider walking out, leaving all this madness behind him. Really. The fact that, as he considered, he reached out to Illyria and ran a finger slowly down her throat to the edge of her... garment...towards those small, perfect, blue-tinged breasts in no way invalidated his refusal to...
(Giles, you’re going to fuck a vampire and God King. Have the decency to admit it to yourself. Then shut up and enjoy it.)
*
Giles had last had sex two years previously. It had been pleasant. Warm. Companionable. Opening up a depressing prospect of mid-life decline into camaraderie and liking rather than raw lust.
Turned out he still had the raw lust. Very much so.
Not that he’d given much thought to Spike as a lover (at least, not for himself), despite several years of proximity. But they were touching now, nonetheless, direct and unembarrassed by mutual need. That tight hard-bodied intensity awoke welcome memories of a younger Giles, laughing at convention as he dragged open Randal’s shirt and ran fingernails over the well-formed muscle and stiff nipples uncovered. Grinning at the passing student punting parties who were tutting at such public displays and the youths’ evident intent to take it much further as soon as they could find shelter. Young people can be such prudes.
Old Ones are not prudes. Giles would have guessed this, but even so he was enjoying the honesty of Illyria’s comments on the male bodies displayed for her.
“Cold and hot, yet the response is identical. This sensation pleases me,” she stated calmly, holding a dripping, needy cock in each hand, stroking with enjoyment and skill. The obvious gratification of Giles and Spike was apparently reciprocated. “I warm and yield. It becomes necessary for me to mate.” She frowned. “But we are three. I have consulted authoritative works and found no preferred method for such a combination.”
“Honestly, Blue, it’s one of those things you make up as you go.” Spike ran on, speaking to Giles and unusually hesitant... “I’d better go first though, maybe. Not sure what... well... s’prob’ly better to have vampire healing, right? Just in case.”
Yes. So Spike too wasn’t sure exactly how much humanity Illyria had when it came to actual organs. Either that, or he just wanted dibs. Giles gave way gracefully (and with some cowardly relief). Besides, he really rather wanted to explore the vampire a little. Been playing it straight for far too long. He paused politely till the pair were well engaged (promisingly, Spike hadn’t dissolved into dust and ash on contact with the godly loins).
Giles silently praised the lord for the missionary position - so accommodating to threesome dynamics. Illyria was spread-eagled, watching with interest as Spike pushed up and showed her the place where they joined; pale flesh, blue hairs tangling with dark, inches of cock visible as he moved smoothly and with obvious enjoyment. Giles, lying close already, moved closer still, absorbing the smell and sound of pleasurable fucking. His wet thumb, exploring Illyria, found and toyed with her sweet spot, feeling her roll and buck with the caress. Just like he remembered.
(A tiny back-brain voice briefly reminded him of the whole dead man/ancient being freakishness - this really wasn’t a situation he was equipped to remember. He ignored its irrelevance.)
Time for some action towards Giles’ own satisfaction, now insistently demanded by his desperately roused body. Spike shivered happily at the touch of slippery lubricated fingers at his arse, shifting position to kneel and spread for Giles. Illyria, slender thighs now splayed across Spike’s legs, hips hitched high, continued to observe and comment with intense interest.
“The moment of dual penetration has come. The vampire is increasingly engorged. I feel you rousing him, and he moves in me in response.”
Spike gave a half-laugh, contorted through pleasure and focus. “Not wrong, Highness. Not gonna last too long with the two of you going at me like this.”
“Postponement is unnecessary.” Illyria’s voice was expressive, of a sudden: taut and shaky, on the edge of coming.
Things got a little complex at this point. Illyria’s humanity was evidently only organ deep. As she climaxed she lost that. Time split and shifted half a beat left (or possibly up, down, strange or peppermint), just for a breath or two.
It was... not unpleasant. Better than that, in fact. It was incredible. Illyria took Giles and Spike along with her for the dimensional ride - three incompatibly different beings throbbing and gasping together in harmonious orgasm.
(Giles finally stopped thinking.)
*
Normality returned fully, after what later experimentation would establish to be precisely 2 minutes 14 seconds. If you could call it normality, mused Giles, sliding his hand out from under Illyria’s still-quivering buttock, pulling back from Spike’s arse and generally trying to restore a sense of Watcherly decorum.
(Not successfully, but he truly didn’t care.)
“Right then. That’s worth repeating.” Bless Spike, Giles thought in a brief and uncharacteristic mood of sex-based affection. Always to the point. And in this case, right on the mark too.
“Perhaps regularly,” Giles agreed. “Wednesdays at ten?”
“I am in accord.” Illyria blinked slowly up at her menfolk. “But next time, I shall be on top.”
~~~~~~~~~
Want to read the Spike and Illyria takes on this? Follow me...