Title: "Que la raison ne connaît pas" (The Heart Has Its Reasons)
Author: soft_princess
Website: Fly With Me
Date: July 15, 2008
Word count: 6,350

Fandom: BtVS
Pairing: Giles/Wesley/Xander
Rating: FRAO
Disclaimer: Joss owns, I don't.
Spoilers/setting: Set a few months post-Chosen. No comics canon.
Summary: The more things change...

Warnings: dirty talk, voyeurism, very slight D/s undertones.

Note: Written for the Choose your Author ficathon. The masterlist can be found here.
Title from the ever famous quote by Blaise Pascal: "Le coeur a ses raisons que la raison ne connaît pas." - "The heart has its reasons which reason knows nothing of."

Merci beaucoup to mireille719 for the fabulous  beta.

"We know truth, not only by reason, but also by the heart." - Blaise Pascal
Source: the Quotations Page



Wesley showed up on their doorstep exactly four weeks after they moved in.

Giles was at the Council boarding school, helping with the final preparations before the first contingent of Slayers arrived for training. Xander had spent so much time there since they'd flown in from the US that Giles had sent him home that morning with a glare and an order to get some rest and "get out of here, already."

The knocking on the door was so distant that at first Xander mistook it for part of the movie he was watching. But when he saw that neither of the characters moved towards the door and the knocking hadn't stopped, he looked up.

He must have been half-asleep, because there was no way that wasn't coming from the front door. "Just a minute!" he yelled as he threw the afghan away from his legs and grabbed his shirt, which he'd discarded earlier on the arm of the sofa.

Xander went over to the door, frowning as he looked through the peephole. He finished making himself presentable and turned the handle. "Wesley?"

"Oh, hello. I thought this was Mr. Giles' house?" Wesley asked, looking a little confused.

Xander took a look at down at himself. He was sleep-rumpled and his shirt was on inside out. "Uh. Yeah, sorry, I was..." He waved back towards the living room, where the movie was still on, and let Wesley in. "Giles lives here too. I mean, we share the place, not that we're together or anything. Just, you know, two friends sharing a place, all roommate-like." He scratched his head as he closed the door, trying to wake himself up. "What are you doing here?" he asked, when Wesley only raised an eyebrow at Xander's babbled explanation.

Last time he'd heard about Wesley and the others, they were taking over an Evil Law Firm^tm and Giles had said something to the effect of, "Let us never speak of them again." Xander hadn't been exactly clear on how everything had happened, but the point was that the firm was evil, thus Angel and his crew were evil, thus persona non grata and everything that entailed.

"I heard you could use a hand," Wesley answered simply, putting down his suitcase.
Uh, okay, suitcase. That was serious. Xander hadn't noticed that before, on account of being asleep. "Let me just call Giles; he's at the Slayer Academy right now."

"Academy?" Wesley followed Xander into the living room and sat down when Xander motioned for him to.

"Uh, boarding school? That's where all the little Watchers-to-be go, right? We're kind of giving it a makeover." He picked up the phone and dialed Giles' number. "Hey, you got a minute?"

"Of course, is everything all right? I thought you were resting?"

"I was," Xander answered quickly, "but someone interrupted the resting part of resting by knocking on our door."

"Who? The milk man isn't supposed to come by until tomorrow."

Xander still hadn't gotten over the fact that Giles got his milk delivered, but he decided right now wasn't the time to point out that if Giles wanted milk, there was a store right there on the corner of their street. That discussion hadn't gone particularly well the last time.  "Yeah, not milk-man," he said simply. "Wesley's here."

The pause was significant enough that Xander knew Giles was shocked. "Wesley? Why in hell..."

"I don't know, big guy, he just showed up. Think he wants to talk to you though, said something about us needing a hand. Want me to bring him over?"

"Absolutely not!" Giles replied vehemently. Then, apparently having realized he'd been a bit forceful, "I mean, not that I do not want him on school grounds, but this would only be an excuse for you to disappear again, with another project you know just has to be done, and I won't have it."

"Yeah, cause you're so much better than me," Xander teased.

Giles answered him with a laugh; a short one, but Xander now considered Giles laughing as a reason to be smug. "Perhaps. In any case, you are not putting your feet on the grounds today. If anything, this will give me a good excuse to escape Andrew's incessant questioning."

"He driving you nuts again?" The school was almost ready to open its doors now, and Andrew, as Giles' personal assistant, was taking care of all the last minute paperwork, pestering Giles for hours each day until Giles couldn't take it anymore, faked a headache and left for home.

"Quite."

"Okay, ditch him, and I'll have tea ready by the time you get home. I'm sure Wesley won't say no."

He wasn't wrong. Wesley accepted the teacup with a frown, and took a careful sip.
"I had a good teacher," Xander explained, when Wesley looked up, frown replaced by surprise. "Giles wouldn't let me touch anything in the kitchen until I learned how to make a 'proper cup of tea.'"

"Ah"

That wasn't exactly how it happened, but the details weren't all that important--Xander wasn't exactly lying... much. Xander had woken up alone in the house one morning, and gone into the kitchen to find out they were out of pretty much every food Xander liked. There wasn't any more coffee, and that, in his sleep-hazed mind, was the worst tragedy. Of the moment, at least.

He never thought about the actual worst tragedy of his life.

Thinking about it meant acknowledging that he was living in a country on the other side of the world, that his home was a tiny two-storey house on a quiet street on the west side of Bath--because the home he'd known all his life didn't exist anymore--and that not only had his life gone upside down, he was starting to get a crush on his fifty-year-old roommate. Who was Giles.

On the morning of the tea lesson, Xander grabbed the last of the orange juice and an overripe banana and sat at the breakfast counter, hoping that Giles had gone out to get them coffee and donuts from the shop a couple of blocks away. When he'd come back, though, it wasn't with the familiar paper bags, but instead laden with bags from the supermarket. Xander, who'd been waiting for the smell of the good kind of coffee to fill the air, had to take a moment to hide his disappointment, but finally went to the front door to help Giles bring in the bags.

He hadn't bought any coffee. "I have no knowledge of what coffee you might like, so I preferred to leave it up to you to go back and buy whatever you want later on."

Xander couldn't fault that logic. Giles could still have brought coffee from the café to make up for it, but Xander wasn't going to complain out loud.

No, he wasn't. No matter how much he might want to.

"Tea would fill the same purpose," Giles offered, having noticed Xander's faraway look. "I'll show you--"

"I'll just make myself some toast, and go get coffee after," Xander interrupted him.

"Ah, no," Giles had replied, firmly, putting the last of the food into the cupboard. "I don't think you'd make it to the store tired as you are." Then he added, "Tea is not evil you know."

Xander smiled at that. "You wouldn't be wrong. Except maybe about the tea."

"Why did you get up, then? You could have slept in a little longer." Giles had taken out his tin of tea, and was running the water to fill the pot.

"I don't know." It had seemed like a good idea at the time--he was awake, it was day, and sleeping in always seemed wrong when he knew the only other person in the house was up and about--but now, not so much. Despite what he'd said, Xander found himself leaning against the counter and watching Giles pour the water and add the leaves. Giles was talking as he worked, although it didn't feel like he was giving Xander a lesson, more like he was reminding himself of the steps to proper tea brewing.

"And now we let it sit," he said, turning to Xander with a smile, and brushing his fingers over Xander's hand, almost as if it'd been an accident. Xander gulped and took his hand away.

"Toast for you too?" he asked. His voice didn't waver. It was a near thing. "Did you get some jelly?"

"The jam is in the cupboard."

"Jam, jelly, it's all the same." Xander grinned.

The next week, every morning, Xander stood next to Giles while he made his tea. Xander never found time to buy coffee.

Now, whenever Giles got home after Xander did, there was tea ready for him in the kitchen, and more often than not, food would be in the oven too. Xander never worried about how domestic it might look to anyone else who wasn't them. It didn't matter; they both knew it was nothing more than what friends do for each other.

Giles got home within half an hour of Xander's phone call. Once Wesley had finished the tea, Xander had tried to make small talk, but he didn't want to know how Angel was doing, and it was clear from Wesley's expression that he didn't want to give the answer anyway, so they had nothing to talk about. Except the Academy, and that, well, Xander was going to wait until Giles was there before giving away the details.

"Wesley, how do you do?" Giles asked after he closed the door and came through the doorway into the kitchen. "I imagine you must be tired," he added before Wesley could answer the question. "Why don't we go in the living room, where I trust we'll be more comfortable."

Xander let them go in and grabbed an extra cup of tea for Giles and a pack of chocolate cookies. He was hungry, and--since it was about lunchtime--he bet Giles was too.

"Thank you, Xander," Giles said, sending him a quick smile when Xander brought the tea in, before he turned to Wesley.

"I'm sure you have a good reason for coming here."

Wesley nodded, rubbing his face tiredly. Not for the first time, Xander noticed the stubble there, so different from the pristine proper Watcher he'd loved to hate in high school. "I do, but I'd rather not go into the details. Let's just say I've been woefully disappointed by our change in venue, and I've heard you're looking for trained Watchers."

Xander didn't think Wesley could beg, at least not anymore, but the look in his eyes definitely was the begging kind. They were lacking in the Watcher department--so far, they'd only found twelve who were still alive and wanted to work for Giles--and Wesley didn't look all that incompetent anymore. He even had a certain dangerous edge to him. Working with Angel had apparently loosened him up.

Xander wondered how loose he was, and if maybe Angel had helped him with that too.

Bad brain, no cookie, he thought. Feeling his cheeks warm up, he bit his lip and focused on the details of the curtains. They were blue and had a stripy pattern that Xander wasn't sure he liked yet.

Giles had apparently been coming to some kind of conclusion, because he said, carefully, "We're accepting any help we can get. We've been doing extensive renovations to the school, and it should be ready to accept the first Slayer contingent soon."

"How is that working out?" Wesley asked.

Xander knew all that Giles was going to say, so he picked up the empty cups and the half-eaten pack of cookies and went back into the kitchen. His stomach was growling and he thought he'd seen some leftovers from yesterday's dinner--maybe not enough for three, but he'd figure something out.


That had been three months ago, and Wesley had never actually said why he'd left L.A., at least not for the first three months after he arrived. Giles had put him to work two days later, after Wesley had had time to sleep and buy the essentials. He'd crashed in the living room--which had a set of French doors--for the first two weeks, until Xander had had enough of not being able to watch his cartoons in the morning, and he'd made room in the study for a futon and a dresser. They would have to do paperwork on the kitchen table until Wesley found himself a place, but for now, it worked.

And Wesley was apparently very glad to have his own space.

Xander, on the other hand, was being slowly driven crazy.

The liking guys thing wasn't all that new--he had to be honest with himself now; it was kind of hard not to be, and Larry hadn't been wrong; he'd just been a little off--but having two hot guys living with him--and hot they really were--was starting to make him think he needed a shrink. He woke up hot and horny more often than not, and neither Giles nor Wesley had apparently mastered the art of getting dressed before getting out of the bathroom.

Naked, wet, hairy chests were the stars of Xander's fantasies a lot.

Then one night, Xander came home later than planned from a training session with a group of Slayers shorter than him who could all kick his ass, and he found Giles and Wesley in the kitchen.

Something was cooking and it smelled good, so he followed his nose, not hearing the sighs and the groans at all until...

…until he turned into the kitchen doorway and saw Giles and Wesley making out against the kitchen counter. Giles' pants were halfway down his legs--and fuck, that ass--and Wesley was arching up against him, his head thrown back and almost touching the cupboard behind him. "Bloody hell, Rupert."

Xander's blood left his brain for his crotch, leaving him dizzy and disoriented for a second. He was flushed, hot, and his mouth suddenly dry. He tried to lick his lips, but his mouth was too dry to dampen anything, and had to bite down hard not to moan when Giles bent his head and pressed his mouth to Wesley's neck.

Xander couldn't move. He should go away now, or at least stop looking. He couldn't.

He couldn't at all.

Giles slipped a hand between their bodies and did something that had Wesley moaning and letting out a half-choked "fuck."

Wesley was the noisy one; Giles, on the other hand, was almost silent. He whispered something in Wesley's ear; Xander couldn't hear, but whatever it was, it was good. Wesley whimpered--so fucking hot--and started moving his hips frantically, his legs tightening around Giles'.

"Stop teasing, Rupert," he murmured, panting.

"You didn't say please."

He didn't know if he was more jealous or turned on or both equally. Probably both. He wanted to be there, stuck between them, feeling Wesley's cock against his ass, Giles' hands on his skin.

"Come now, Wesley," Giles urged, "Xander will be here any minute."

The sound of his name was like ice water on a fire. Xander snapped out of it, and, shaking his head, he turned around and headed for the stairs. Fuck, he was so stupid. A first class moron. Not that this was news to him; stupidity had always been a strong point with him. But this...

They'd been doing this for a while, it showed in the way they touched, the way they talked, goading each other on. Xander wondered how long. Last week when he'd been out with Buffy and Willow for the whole evening and hadn't come back before the sun was already up? That one time two months ago when Wesley and Giles had spent the night at the Academy because of an emergency with one of the Slayers? Before that? Was that why Wesley had appeared on their doorstep and Giles hadn't pushed the "why?" issue on him at all? Because they were...

Since Sunnydale? The Mayor, Faith... Wesley and his first-timer personality...

Xander didn't know. It didn't fit, but... maybe? They looked so comfortable like this. Together.

Without him.

He almost didn't hear Wesley's "let him watch," and Giles' answering moan--the first he'd made since Xander had walked in. The words didn't register until he was in his room, the door closed. Safe.

He couldn't hear them from here.

Sure, Xander could imagine them now. Very well. Wesley would be coming soon, and what would Giles do? Would he catch the drops in his hand? Spread them on Wesley's chest? Or would he drop to his knees and drink them, sucking Wesley's cock into his mouth until Wesley couldn't bear it anymore and pushed him away...

Giles would jack himself off and come on Wesley.

Did they really want him to watch? Maybe Wesley's statement had just been a joke, something only the two of them could understand. Ha, ha, Xander thought.

What would they want with him anyway?

He'd been kidding himself, that he was sure of. Giles hadn't been flirting with him for months, since they left Sunnydale, since before that even. Why would he? The hand touching, the smiles, everything; it was just a friend being comforting, happy. It wasn't coming from someone who wanted Xander. It couldn't be. Xander was too young, too inexperienced to be anything to Giles.

Barely an adult. And Giles had known him as a kid; a really annoying, awkward kid.

Giles was having sex with Wesley. Wesley was having sex with Giles. End of story. Moving on.

Any minute now.

Xander would go to the pub for dinner. They had a mean lasagna he could feel himself starting to crave. There was a dance club downtown too, not too far. He'd eat, dance, use his "mysterious one-eyed American" persona and find someone--a girl, a guy; he'd done it before--spend the night and be totally over Giles--and Wesley--in the morning.

He was getting up, thinking about what he was going to wear, where his good eyepatch was--because that seemed to keep other thoughts from his mind--when he heard someone coming up the stairs. "Xander? Are you there?" Giles asked, giving a tentative knock on the door.

"Yeah--" Xander croaked, startled. Giles had probably noticed his shoes in the hallway, his backpack at the kitchen doorway. He knew. They knew. He cursed under his breath and cleared his throat. "Yeah. Come in."

He had his head in the closet when Giles walked in. "Dinner's ready," he said simply, though he couldn't hide the uncertainty in his voice.

Xander shrugged, taking out his best pair of jeans and his dark blue shirt--the one Dawn liked the most. "You and Wesley probably want to be alone."

Giles didn't say anything. Xander crossed the room to his dresser, making sure to leave a wide berth between him and Giles, his eye on the goal, and grabbed a clean pair of boxers--plain black; cartoons would ruin the effect. "I'm going out. Probably won't be back tonight, but I'll see you at work tomorrow." Xander was tired, and no, he didn't want to go out. He wanted to grab whatever Giles had cooked and eat it in front of the TV. But the alternative, knowing now that Wesley wasn't going to sleep in the study tonight, that they would probably be loud and... That was worse than having to change his evening plans.

"Xander--" Giles stopped him by grabbing his arm and not letting go, even when Xander tried to shrug it off. "I'm sorry."

Xander revised his plan to grab a shower first and put his clothes down on the bed.

Seeing that Xander wasn't going for the door anymore, Giles took his hand away. The pressure stayed.

"You shouldn't have seen that." Giles was looking away from Xander's eye, at the unmade bed, the stack of dirty clothes in one corner of the room, the dildo on the nightstand.

Xander gulped, feeling his face warm up, grabbed the offending item and stuffed it in the drawer, along with the lube. Did Giles know Xander had been staring at them for almost five minutes? Had grown hard so quickly he'd gotten dizzy from it? Had wanted to be right there with them, to hear what Giles was whispering in Wesley's ears that had him making those sounds. Fuck, those sounds... Did he know they featured in Xander's fantasies more often than anyone else these days? That he'd used that dildo, just last night, imagining it was Giles...

Probably not. At least for that last part.

"And what?" he said, finally, when he'd regained his senses. "I should just forget I saw anything. You don't have to apologize," he added belatedly. He wanted Giles to leave his room so he could change. Change and disappear. Drink, forget he had a crush on two guys fifteen and twenty-seven years older than he was. Too old to look at him twice.

But Giles wasn't leaving, and he was looking. "Xander, please."

"What?"

"Sit down. I suppose we should--"

"No talking," Xander cut him off. "You and Wesley, Wesley and you. I get it. It's fine. You could have told me; could have saved me all that work in the study. I'm leaving now. Figured you guys might want the place to yourselves tonight."

"Xander, please, let me explain." When Xander didn't do anything except glare at him, Giles added "I'm sorry."

Xander shrugged. Giles was struggling, that was obvious. Damn British guys and emotions. Couldn't he be leaving now?

Apparently not.

"I should have talked to you," Giles managed, whispering. "But I..."

They'd had an agreement. A silent one, granted, but it was still pretty clear. They flirted. Giles didn't ask anything, and Xander didn't say anything, and they waited. For what, Xander wasn't sure. For him to be ready, maybe. Probably.

He'd been ready for a while, though; he'd just had no idea how to bring it up, what to say, do, something. So he hadn't. Xander hadn't said anything, Giles hadn't asked anything, and everything had been at a stand-still: flirting, fantasies. The status quo.

And now this...

Xander wondered if he hadn't imagined the whole agreement thing, decided it was real when it really wasn't. "Were you just..." he stopped. He wasn't sure what he wanted to ask. He shook his head, hoping Giles would let it drop.

"Was I what?" Giles pushed.

"Never mind, I don't know what I was saying."

"Wesley and I," Giles tried, "it's not--"

"Not new, I know. That was pretty obvious." He didn't want to know. Much.

"In Sunnydale," Giles said anyway. "But we didn't... It was never..." He stopped again.

"Serious? It is now." Xander knew he sounded sarcastic, or stupid, or both; he didn't care.

"Perhaps, but..."

Okay, the interruptions were starting to get on his nerves. Couldn't Giles at least finish a sentence? That had never been a problem before. "Look, it's okay, really." Xander tried to sound like he meant it. At least more than he actually did. "You played a game with me, and now it's done. It's fine. You go be happy with Wesley, and I'll get dressed and get out of your hair." God, but he wanted to go.

Giles had stared at the floor while Xander talked, but then looked up, frowning, and said intensely, "It was never a game, Xander. Never."

The tone was sincere, the eyes were... confusing. Xander didn't buy it. "Sure, whatever you want to tell yourself, I'm fine with that. Just go now." He added "please," when Giles didn't move.

That had an effect, just not the one Xander was looking for. Or was it? Xander saw Giles run a hand through his hair, and then, suddenly, he was backed up against the wall, Giles' breath tickling his skin, and Giles' hands holding him there. Giles kissed like he did almost everything else, with confidence.

Xander opened his mouth, let out a moan against Giles' lips. Giles tightened his grip, and the pain brought Xander back to his senses. What the fuck am I doing?

He turned his head, breaking the kiss violently. "Giles, what the fu--" Fuck. Fuck. This was so fucking fucked up. "Your boyfriend's downstairs, and you, you're..." He twisted his body to get Giles to let him go.

"Calm down, Xander," Giles said softly. He took his hands away, flexing the fingers as if they hurt, and stepped back. He ran a hand in his hair and sighed. All thoughts of running away left Xander's brain when Giles added, "Let me explain."

Xander didn't want Giles to explain. He was starting to feel angry. Angry, tired, and not at all sure of what the hell Giles was playing at. He'd been fucking Wesley ten minutes ago, downstairs, in the kitchen. Xander had seen them, and Giles knew that, and yet, here he was, kissing Xander like he was the one Giles had wanted all along. "No," he said firmly. He looked away and went to grab his clothes from the bed, but stopped suddenly when he saw the figure in the doorway. "Fuck, Wes--"

Giles turned around slowly--so slowly that Xander could see the soft smile forming on his lips. The bastard.

"Dinner's getting cold," Wesley stated with a crooked half smile that matched Giles'. Mocking; they were mocking him, Xander thought.

What kind of sick game were they playing? Taunt the Xander until he cracked, packed his bags and left the place? They'd probably noticed him staring and drooling or something-- But, for the sake of everything that wasn't evil, they weren't fifteen year old girls. Not even Wesley anymore. They wouldn't play games, would they? Not this kind, anyway.

Giles stepped back further when Wesley put a foot into the room, but Xander barely registered it. He didn't move from against the wall. "I'm sorry, we needed to talk; it's taking some time," Giles said apologetically, almost like this was nothing more than just--

Like this was nothing.

"Ah," Wesley said. "Do you think I should spell it out for him?"

Spell what out? Xander looked between Wesley and Giles, trying to understand why Giles wasn't backing away--he'd let go, sure, but he was still well into Xander's personal space--and why Wesley wasn't yelling. His boyfriend, lover, partner, whatever, had kissed Xander, a younger, though not that much more attractive guy, on the lips; there should be yelling now. Any second.

But there wasn't. There was just this, whatever this was.

When Wesley left the doorway and walked fully into the room towards them, Xander thought, there it comes, and braced himself for raised voices and punching, maybe slapping, at least something to make this less confusing.

Instead, Giles moved out of Xander's bubble, and Wesley replaced him. Thin, long fingers closed around Xander's arms, almost exactly where Giles' had been, and he was pushed against the wall again; a little more smoothly, this time. And then--

Okay, now that didn't help at all.

Wesley's lips were tentative, less confident than Giles', but just as experienced. Fuck. Oh. God. Confusing was not a strong enough word for this. Xander, instead of pushing Wesley away--with him, he could have; not that Wesley wasn't strong, but they were pretty much matched in that department--Xander kissed back.

When Wesley broke the kiss, eyes searching Xander's for something, Xander was panting, wide-eyed, and kind of a little hard. Okay, maybe a lot.

Giles was sitting on his bed, now, wearing a devilish kind of grin that had Xander gulping.

"I believe," Wesley said with his mouth inches from Xander's ear, "that you didn't stay downstairs long enough to hear what I told Rupert."

Xander knew exactly what Wesley meant, but he couldn't help asking "Which part? The moaning or the 'oh fuck's?"

Giles laughed, and Wesley snorted against Xander's neck. "Did you know that the surest way to make him come is to mention you?" Wesley's voice was seductive, secretive, and made Xander shiver. "I only had to say that we should let you watch and he came; I can still feel his come on my stomach."

"Oh God." Xander let out a soft moan at the dirty, dirty images that brought up in his mind.

Giles, still watching them, got up from the bed, and manhandled them gently until he could slip behind Xander's back. He put his hands on Xander's hips and leaned towards his free ear, the one on his blind side. "We're not playing, Xander," Giles whispered.

"No," Xander admitted. "You're just insane." He licked his lips, leaning his head against Giles' shoulder. He could feel his heart racing. How would this work? Just how the hell did they think this could ever work... "I can't--you can't--seriously?"

Wesley chuckled. Giles kissed Xander's neck and said, "Yes, we're very serious."

"But how--I have no idea how this is going to work. What do you--I've never--" Now it was his turn with the not being able to finish sentences. Xander was pretty sure most of his brain cells had exploded by now.

"Neither do we," Wesley replied. He straightened up, serious now. "But we'll figure it out."

Giles' hands wandered down, caressing Xander's upper thighs and hips steadily, like he wanted to feel the skin underneath the jeans. He repeated, "We'll make it work, and we'll show you, teach you everything you want to learn."

"Oh God." That wasn't fair, short-circuiting his brain like that. Just an hour ago, Xander was coming home, hungry as hell and needing a shower, but now--

Wesley's hand--naughty, naughty hand--moved slowly over Xander's torso, down to the waistband of his pants, fingers slipping underneath for a second, just long enough to make Xander shiver in Giles' arms, and then he could feel Wesley's palm right there over his cock. Wesley cupped him through two layers of clothing, and hummed. "Perhaps I better attend to this."

Xander closed his eye. This was a dream, it had to be. Giles couldn't be saying "Perhaps you should, yes," and Wesley couldn't actually be dropping down to his knees. Not here, not now, not both of them at the same time.

"Pinch me," he whispered to Giles, who was leaning his head against Xander's shoulder. "I think I'm dreaming. Can't--fuck Wesley--can't be happening."

Giles took him at his word, and the pinch on his lower arm stung enough that Xander let out an "ow" of surprise. "It is happening," Giles said softly, his lips ghosting Xander's neck and making him shiver again. "Did you hear how loud Wesley can be?" At Xander's nod, he continued, "Imagine when you have your beautiful, hard cock in his ass, fucking him hard and fast; how good he'll sound then, crying out and begging--because Wesley loves to beg."

Xander's pants were undone now, and he shuddered at the cold air hitting his overheated flesh. Giles didn't stop talking. Which was good, because Xander never wanted him to stop.

"I want to watch this. I'd prepare him for you, get him ready and you could slip inside without wasting time, push yourself in; he'd be on his hands and knees, so very beautiful when he is, his ass in the air just waiting for this."

Wesley's hand closed around Xander's erection, and Xander hissed, bucking up. "A little impatient, are we?" Wesley teased, his tongue darting out to lick at the tip of Xander's cock.

"I suppose we've been teasing long enough now," Giles told him. "Show him just how good you are at this, boy."

Oh. Oh. Fuck, that was hot. Xander shuddered and put a hand on Wesley's head, fingers tight in the soft brown hair. "So hot," he murmured, eye half closed.

"Are you my boy, Xander?" Giles voice was like wind in Xander's ear, and he shivered again, crying out when Wesley finally--finally--closed his mouth on the head of his cock.

"Yes, yes, please," Xander moaned. He'd had dreams like this, where Giles would slip in Xander's bed and show him, teach him, call him a very good boy, "my very good boy," because fuck, Xander would be a quick learner at this, and Giles--

Giles would love this. And now it wasn't a dream.

"Come, Xander. Don't make Wesley wait too long; he's been wanting to taste you for months." Giles raked his fingernails up on Xander's thighs until his hands slipped under his shirt, moving up slowly and pinching Xander's nipples. "And so have I. Months, Xander; years, really. Come now, my dear, sweet boy."

Giles wouldn't have to beg, he didn't need to say please, because Xander was already shuddering, bucking, his fingers tightening on Wesley's scalp as he came.

Dizzy and spent, Xander went limp, thankful that Giles' arms were there to hold him up. He opened his eye to look down at Wesley, and groaned when he saw him licking his lips with a cat-that-ate-the-canary look on his face. "Fuck--" he muttered, but was unable to finish his thought. Brain? Totally missing now. No more brain cells.

Giles said something to Wesley that might have been "Keep some for me," and then steered Xander in the direction of the bed. "I don't think we'll be able to get him downstairs now," he said with a grin.

Xander lay on his side and watched them. Wesley got up, dusting off his pants, and hooked a hand around the curve of Giles' neck, bringing him closer. "Come here and taste him," he said just before their lips met. They were too hot; what few brain cells Xander had left immediately went up in flames.

Giles moaned.

Fuck.

They were putting on a show, tongues dueling, licking, sharing his taste, and it was all for Xander's benefit. Giles gave a last sweep of his tongue on Wesley's lower lip and pulled back. "Delicious," he murmured. "Simply delicious. I'll have to taste it myself soon."

"Uh huh," Xander agreed. "Soon as I get some--some--something back."

Giles and Wesley laughed. "Perhaps we've fried your brain cells enough for tonight," Wesley said, coming to sit on the edge of Xander's bed.

"Nuh uh. Gimme some fuel, and I'm good to go again." He hadn't missed how tight Wesley's pants were now, and how Giles had been growing hard against his ass earlier. "Didn't you say there was food ready?" Feeling just a little bold, Xander reached out and put his hand on Wesley's.

Wesley didn't take his hand away. He smiled--soft and affectionate instead of smug, now--and turned it until their palms touched and their fingers linked together. "Do you understand now?" he asked. His thumb slowly traced patterns on Xander's palm.

"You really--I mean, this? You want this?" Xander replied, surprised when it came out almost like a whisper. "Cause I don't, I really don't know how it's supposed to work." Sure, he'd had fantasies, but that was the thing about those, nothing ever went wrong. This was for real, everything could go wrong. And it probably would, and they'd be stuck trying to work around each other; that would suck.

"Yes, we do," Giles answered for Wesley.

"When I arrived here," Wesley added, scooting closer to Xander until he cold pass an arm over Xander's torso, leaning on his palm with their hands still in each other, "I didn't expect Rupert to want to have anything to do with me beyond my work experience. What I truly didn't expect was to find you here. To say I was attracted to you when I saw you in the doorway, clearly just awake, would be belittling it, I feel."

"We never planned this," Giles said, putting his hand on Wesley's shoulder. "But we do want it. If you do, of course. As to how it's going to work, well, it'll work however we want it to."

"That means more talking, right?"

"Not necessarily."

Xander had his doubts, and was going to say so when his stomach growled. Loudly.

Wesley burst out laughing, and Giles smiled, saying, "Dinner time, then. I'll bring us some food up."

"No, no, I can stand," Xander protested, leaning on his elbows. Wesley hadn't moved, and his brought their faces even, almost close enough to kiss.

"No, it's quite all right," Giles protested. "You both stay here, and I'll be back shortly." He was out of the room before either of them could protest. Not that Wesley looked like he'd be doing any kind of protesting.

"So, um, threeway, uh?" Xander said, grinning.

"If that works for you, yes." Wesley let go of Xander's hand and cupped his cheek.

"Okay. Kiss me now? I think we've done enough--"

He didn't get to finish his sentence; Wesley's lips were on his before he could say another word.

Boyfriends who knew how to kiss were definitely a very good thing.


The end.