Title: School Boy Memories

Author: Criss Moody

Distribution: Archives of the lists that receive this, yes. Anyone else, ask.

Spoilers: Vague season one of Angel stuff…Set somewhere in season one of Angel and season four of BtVS, after "Doomed" and "Somnambulist."

Rating: NC-17 (try to hide your surpise).

Pairing: Giles/Wesley

Content Warning: m/m sex.

Feedback: I love it, I adore it, I want more of it! And it makes the muses speak louder.

Summary: Wesley pays a visit to Mr. Giles.

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and such own the characters and the concept, I'm just trying to do away with all the meowring plot kittens.

Notes: Reality means nothing to me. Oh, and when I mention football, I mean soccer.

Wesley Wyndham-Pryce shifted nervously on his Italian leather clad feet. He had used the small brass knocker on the door, but as of yet no one had answered. He was quite sure he had the right time; after all, he had checked it so many times that Cordelia had started making jokes about his 'little black book'.

Just when Wesley had decided to go back to the car and check his 'little black book', Mr. Giles finally answered the door. The older man said nothing. He calmly took Wes apart with his eyes, starting at the supple leather shoes, then up the cream colored trousers, and lingering a bit at the groin. Wesley felt his stomach tingle, and his penis stirred slightly. The cool green eyes traveled on, up the matching jacket, curving into the pale neck, then finally to rest on Wesley's eyes, which nervously flitted around. Mr. Giles continued to look into Wes' stormy gray orbs until the anxious man gathered the courage to meet the other man's eyes. Something, approval perhaps, flickered in Rupert's eyes before shuttering. He turned and walked into the apartment, saying as he strolled,

"Please, do come in, Wesley."

As briskly as possible, the oh-so-refined Mr. Wyndham-Pryce entered the apartment, moving around the couch to stand in front of Mr. Giles, who leaned upon the mantel. The more casually dressed man, in jeans and a black button up shirt, untucked, took his glasses off and began to clean them with a crisp white handkerchief.

"Strip, boy."

A familiar thrill swept through Wesley when he heard the issued order. Automatically, he first jerked off his tie, then made short work of his jacket. As Mr. Giles finished with his spectacles and turned to regard Wesley, the younger man began to take more time. His fingers nimbly slipped buttons out of holes, and the soft white shirt slipped off slim, pale shoulders to fall onto the floor. Then, he undid the clasp to his trousers, quickly slipping the zipper down. The pants met the same fate as the shirt and he stepped out of them to stand before Mr. Giles in nothing but silky white skin and paisley silk boxers. At a curt nod from Rupert, he edged his boxers down, almost whimpering when the scratchy band slipped past his rising erection. Stepping out of those, Wes' eyes drifted down, his hands at his sides, as he waited for orders.

Two warm hands suddenly appeared at his neck, snapping a black, studded leather collar onto his neck. Mr. Giles had hold of the leash leading from the collar and he lead the nude figure across the living room, and up to his bedroom.

Wesley shivered in nearly unbearable anticipation. This was only the second time he had been allowed into the 'inner sanctum', if you will. On his last visit, he'd barely made it past the door. His stomach and ribs still felt a bit tender, to be perfectly honest.

The first thing Wesley saw as he entered the cozy loft was the small bottle of oil resting next to a small mountain of pillows. With a sharp tug, Mr. Giles guided the nude body onto the bed. The younger man shifted so that he kneeled on the bed, just in front of the pillows and oil, facing the stairs and the man who still held his leash.

"Now, Wesley, I haven't been entirely pleased with your performance as of late. I think that perhaps you have been distracted you from your studies. And I think that boys who neglect their studies must be punished, don't you?" Studious green eyes regarded the nude, trembling figure on the bed.

"Yes, sir." Punishment sounded delicious, though a tad perilous.

"Now, if you perform adequately, you'll be given a bit of a treat, but only if you do well." Giles paused, reaching over to pull a small wooden chair over to where he stood. With great precision, he sat himself in the chair and leaned back into it, spreading his legs wide. Under his lowered eyelids, Wesley gazed hungrily at the spread fabric, knowing very well what lurked beneath it.

"Alright, first off, boy, did you see the bottle and the pillows behind you?"

"Ah, yes, sir."

"Right then, take the pillows and arrange them under your body so that your hips are properly displayed…don't forget to give your arms a comfortable resting place."

Within mere minutes, the lean-hipped figure had the pillows placed to his satisfaction. Wesley laid down on the pillows, sighing at the soft feel of the beige flannel. His neck lay on the edge of a pillow so that his eyes looked at the ceiling rather than his own body or that of Mr. Giles.

"Use the oil on yourself, Wesley, I want to see you to use your education." Wesley's hand fumbled amongst his bed of cushions for the bottle. Quickly, he grasped the glass container and popped the top. Smooth and silky, a stream of strawberry scented oil poured out onto his fingertips.

Oiled fingers glided up taunt skin to circle flat, pinkish brown nipples. Wesley groaned as he caressed the nubs with his slick fingers before flicking the tips until they resembled tiny kernels of corn. One oiled hand continued its ministrations on one hard nubbin as the other traveled down again, this time past the stomach, to the edge of the dark, heat moistened curls. The rising cock felt the heat from the hand and jumped, eager for the well-known touch.

His hand tightly gripped the warm, solid piece of flesh between his thighs and began to pump it, slowly, as it jerked and pulsed, mindless in its desire. Losing himself in the velvety heat of his hand, Wesley almost forgot where he was, for what purpose he gripped his penis with such fervor. He may as well have been in his hovelesque apartment in LA, or on his estate in England. For nearly 15 minutes, nothing existed but the slick crush of flesh moving around his throbbing penis. The warm come soon shuddered from his penis, shooting all over the bed, Wesley, and the wall the bed rested against. Wesley pumped the nearly flaccid penis one more time before releasing it with a soft groan as his hand fell to his side.

"Bravo, Wesley, not entirely terrible. I think that your finish could use some work, but there'll be plenty of time for that later. In the meantime, I do believe you've earned a treat. Take the collar off and sit up." Wesley struggled to rise from the pillows, seeing Rupert rise as well, not missing the bulge pressing against the tight seam of the jeans.

Wesley sat on the edge of the bed, nearly drooling as he watched Mr. Giles strip off the black shirt, revealing his firm, lightly furred chest. Then came the jeans, button fly, each released button revealing a bit more of the fabric covered mound underneath. As the pants came off, Wes groaned when he saw exactly what covered his lover's raging erection. The unmistakable sight of a jockstrap, with its tiny bit of covering in the front, had long been one of Wesley's turn-ons. The easy access to the ass, the sweet sweat of the front pouch, it all drew the Englishman right back to his school days, when he had first been introduced to the pleasures of male sex by the older boys on the football team. Wesley looked on in delectable anticipation as Mr. Giles kicked off the jeans and leaned back against the wall, shoving the chair to one side for the moment.

"Come get your treat, boy." The lust evident in Rupert's tone caused Wes' legs to shake as he rose from the bed to kneel before his fleshly temple. His head came just above the tightly packed pouch, and Wesley inhaled deeply, smelling sweat, heat, and a hint of sandalwood. Nuzzling the damp pouch with his nose, he felt the cock twitch. He lowered his head a bit and began to tongue the sweaty fabric, delighting in the involuntary thrust of Mr. Giles' hips. When Wesley gently scraped his teeth down the front of his lover's fabric-covered cock, the other man hissed and finally grabbed his head, bruising thumbprints into the skull. Eagerly, Wesley set to work with his tongue, slurping, nibbling, and sucking the engorged cock through the fabric, thoroughly wetting the white triangle in the process. The continued jerky thrusts of Rupert's hips told the younger man that his actions were giving the other man pleasure.

When Wesley felt his own penis begin to stir, he thrust his hand down between his legs and begin to pump into his fist, rapidly bringing his penis to renewed hardness. Now, his favorite part of the treat. He rose from his position on the floor to look at Rupert eye to eye. The two men swayed there for a long moment, transfixed by the lust they saw reflected in each other's eyes. Silently, Wesley backed away from his lover's sweaty body, his eyes still devouring the luscious expanse of skin. Rupert moved away from the wall a bit, grabbed for the chair, and shoved it against the wall. Trembling, the older man grabbed the back of the chair and presented his ass to Wesley.

The sight of the muscled ass set off by two white straps made Wesley's eyes cross and his knees shake. Rupert's body had just enough tan that that the strips of elasticized fabric were beautifully set off. Luckily, he still had some degree of control left. Somewhere. He tore his gaze away from his treat and grasped the bottle of oil laying on the bed. Careful to not spill, Wesley poured a hefty amount of oil onto his hand. He sighed as the liquid met his penis, and he made short work of preparing himself. With the excess, he slowly slid one finger into Mr. Giles, up to the knuckle and stopped.

~SNAP~

The muscles in Rupert's ass flexed as the elastic snapped against the soft skin there. Wesley could feel his lover trying to bring the finger in further by manipulating his inner muscles. Sliding the rest of the finger in, Wesley smiled as he heard a soft sigh come from the older man. With each finger he slid in, he popped a strap, a little harder every time, loving the way it made the ass muscles jump and move. Three fingers spreading the tiny, dark rim of flesh, Wesley flexed his fingers, found the hidden nubbin, and flicked it. Mr. Giles howled as the fingers played with his prostate, his inner muscles desperately flexing around the intruding digits.

Sweeping his hand over the broad back below him, Wesley straightened his body. He placed one hand on Rupert's hip and used the other to place his nearly bursting erection at the entrance to his lover's body. He popped the head of his throbbing penis into the sweet silken tightness, resting there. When Rupert's hips thrust back, eager to envelop more of the hard shaft, Wesley once again snapped an elastic strap, harder and sharper this time. The snap made the loveliest noise against the other man's skin.

Wesley pressed forth, biting deep into his lower lip as Rupert's ass crushed his cock in a vise-like grip. Finally in, his balls up against the exposed ass, Wesley leaned forward and twisted a nipple with his fingertips. The body beneath his undulated its approval. Delicately, Wesley licked at the sweat beads scattered on the back, luxuriating in the saltiness. Then, he drew back his hips, withdrawing from the tight glove, and slammed back in. Little mewls and cries rent the air as the two men began to thrust against one another, desperate to be closer. As if this act could somehow envelop him in security of his lover, Wesley rammed deep into Rupert's ass, gripping his hips with both hands, growling as his orgasm approached. The intense contractions around his eager shaft and the musky smell of lust rising from their bodies drove Wesley over the edge, and he shot his seed deep into his lover.

Gasping as the contractions inside Mr. Giles milked his penis, the younger man brushed his hand over his lover's nipples. The groan that action produced brought a deep feeling of contentment to Wesley. In every other way, perhaps, he was a raging failure. But he could still make this man howl and beg.

He slowly withdrew from Rupert's body and eased him into a standing position, once again leaning against the wall. Bracing his own arms against the wall, he swayed into Rupert, watching the chest heave with the need for climax. Wesley nuzzled the arched neck so enticingly displayed before him and took pity on the older man. Wouldn't do for him to expire, after all. He slid his groin into contact with Rupert's, the sweat and the remaining lube making their pelvises glide together. With quick, fast thrusts, Wesley ground his pelvis into Rupert's, bringing him to a hard, violent orgasm. As he eased his thrusting, he felt the warm come seeping from the front of the jockstrap. Unable to resist, he dropped to his knees and licked at it, cleaning the excess oozing out.

Strong hands grasped his shoulders and hauled him up, and Wesley mewled in intense disappointment, licking his lips. Their lips met in a short, sweet kiss as Mr. Giles tasted his own essence inside that of his lover.

"Shower, luv?"

"Yes, quite."

Hand in hand, the two men sauntered down the stairs, satisfied for the moment with their positions in life.