Dining In

Rupert Giles knocked on the apartment door and was shocked when Wesley opened it. He'd known that things had been bad this past year -- known once Willow had returned, and they'd saved their corner of the world and she had taken some time to tell them what she'd learned. But what she had said didn't complete the picture, hadn't warned him for how *bad* Wesley would look.

Wesley looked rather stunned, himself, when he saw Giles standing there. "Rupert?" he stammered.

"Wesley. Er, may I come in?" he asked gently, unable to reconcile this man with the person he'd known. He'd changed since leaving Sunnydale -- Giles had known that, had seen how much he had changed even after a few months in Los Angeles. but this was nothing like that uncertain young man, who, despite everything, had begun to recognise his own worth.

This was a man who was slowly dying, and didn't care.

Wesley hadn't moved to open the door, staring at him with a gaze that Giles knew missed nothing. "What's wrong?" Wesley asked.

"Wrong-- nothing. I was in town, believe it or not and thought I'd stop by." He frowned, wondering if things had changed so greatly that he was no longer welcome. "Wesley, what's happened?"

The other man laughed, once, at that. His voice was sharp and angry, and Giles was struck by the intense urge to reach out and grab him, wrap him in his arms until everything had gone back to the way it should have been.

He wanted to laugh at himself for that thought. Things had never been wonderful, hadn't ever been more than good enough for the moment. But there was something in Wesley's eyes that made *him* ache on Wesley's behalf.


Wesley shook his head. "It would take a week to explain, even if I wanted to."

"I'm afraid I'm only in town until tomorrow," Giles told him, and he wished he could have said 'for the week'. Wished he could point out he had no return ticket to England at all.

He hadn't thought more of driving down to LA, because he'd had no idea what his reception would be. A few weeks of... whatever it had been, between them, hadn't left him with a welcome invitation to return whenever he liked. But neither had he known he should never return at all. He'd risked giving himself one night, satisfy some urge he still couldn't explain, that he wanted to be here, see Wesley again.

Perhaps it was just that they'd survived one more time, and he was leaving his family, and he wanted someone to be with whom he wouldn't have to answer to.

But by the looks of it, there was more to it than that. Wesley shrugged, a gesture totally unlike him, and stepped away from the door. Giles stepped through without the invitation, and closed the door behind him. Wesley reached around to lock it, and Giles nearly kissed him as he moved closer.

He didn't think Wesley had no idea why he was here, but the welcome Giles had thought he might get, was nowhere to be seen. Wesley walked away from him, in fact, apparently dismissing him all together.

A night on the couch, after all? Well, not until he'd tried to seduce him. If required.


Wesley stopped, and glanced over his shoulder. His eyes were dark, and there was a sadness which said he knew why Giles was here. But he said nothing.

Giles looked at him more closely, took in the scars, the worn shirt, and the way he held himself as though he expected something to happen, any moment. He could see that Wesley was armed, though the weapons were mostly hidden.

Did he truly think he would be attacked, here? Was there something urgent which he *was* interrupting? "Can I help?"' he asked. Surely Wesley would have already been telling him, if they were in the middle of some battle.

"There's nothing to be done," Wesley replied. He hesitated, then simply added, "Make yourself at home."

With that, Giles knew he shouldn't expect Wesley to play host. In fact, he rather thought Wesley hoped to forget his presence.

Perhaps a hotel would be a better idea. If he weren't so...unwilling, himself, to spend the night alone, he would do just that. But he'd argued with himself the entire drive down, and he'd made the decision with enough difficulty that he wouldn't unmake it now, without a lot more effort.

"I thought -- have you eaten? Would you care to go to dinner?"

Another hesitation, then Wesley shook his head. "I'm not particularly... in the mood for dining out."

"I... see." He thought he was being given a brush off, though why Wesley had let him in at all, if he didn't want company he didn't know.

"I suppose--" Wesley looked towards the kitchen. "I might have something worth eating, here. Normally I just grab take-away." He made an aborted move towards the kitchen. He obviously didn't care to bother with dinner, but he was polite enough not to leave Giles completely to his own devices.

"I'm sorry," Giles said quickly. "I should have called, asked if it were all right that I stop by. What if I go and eat, and... come back in a bit?" Or not at all, as badly as the visit were going already.

"I--" Wesley's hand had started towards him, before he'd seemed to realise what he was doing and forced it down. But Giles had seen the look in Wesley's eyes before the mask had returned.

He walked over, stopping right in front of Wesley. The other man didn't move, despite how closely Giles was standing. Giles lifted one hand to Wesley's cheek, confused when wesley flinched. But Wesley didn't move, and Giles tilted his head slightly, and kissed him.

Wesley pressed against him so quickly, and so closely, that Giles knew that whatever else he didn't want, Wesley was just as desperate as he was. When he ended the kiss, Wesley had wrapped his arms around Giles, and suddenly it felt exactly like that summer they'd spent together.

Giles put his hand on Wesley's head, held him close and knew that going out to dinner was no longer an option. Going, was not an option. Not until -- he forced his thoughts away.

"Wesley," he began.

"I'm sorry," Wesley said, his voice muffled, and trembling slightly. Giles held him tightly, realising suddenly that sometime in the last three years Wesley had lost a lot of weight.

It amused him to note that his reaction was to want to sit Wesley down and feed him. The smile faded quickly as he realised he had no right, no responsibility....

At least, not normally. Perhaps, for just one night... they could both pretend he did.

"I hate to raid your larder," he began, an idea forming. "Perhaps... a sandwich would be fine." Not exactly what he wanted, but he could see what was available.

Wesley nodded, slowly. "Yes, of course. I-- Of course." He let go and pulled away, heading for the kitchen. Giles followed, not letting him get completely away. Wesley looked startled as Giles retained hold of his hand, but did not pull free.

It didn't take long to survey the contents of Wesley's kitchen. Leftover takeaway bags in the fridge, along with a few containers of various liquids, condiments, and items best not identified. But there was a brick of cheese, and some lunch meat. the bread had gone moldy, but in the cabinet they found crackers -- which suited Giles' purpose better. There was also, quite surprisingly, an orange that was still fresh. Giles selected it, and asked Wesley to peel and section it while he assembled the crackers with meat and cheese.

Soon they had a large plate of food prepared. Giles leaned over and tried a second kiss -- Wesley met him eagerly. He knew that it would be easy to delay dinner, a simple matter of continuing the kiss, getting one hand underneath Wesley's shirt, and food would be completely forgotten.

That wasn't exactly his plan, though. He left the food where it was for now, though, kissing Wesley and feeling his own hunger for something else rise in answer to the way Wesley was rubbing against him, moaning ever so softly, and digging his hands into Giles' back.

Dinner would be very easy to forget. Giles pulled away, just a little, and said, "Bedroom?"

Wesley nodded, breathless already. He stepped away, then stopped when Giles grabbed the plate of food. Giles just smiled at him, and Wesley looked like he was about to speak. Giles merely nodded towards the bedroom, and Wesley decided that he wasn't going to ask. He preceded Giles through the living room, into the bedroom.

Giles wasn't surprised to find the room untidy, unlike the neatly arranged everything Wesley's previous apartment had been. But there was no mad dash to hide dirty laundry -- Wesley simply went to stand beside the bed, and turned to him and waited.

Giles set the plate on the nightstand, and returned to kissing him. Kissing, undressing, all silent and with agreed upon goals. There was no clumsiness or embarrassment, no awkwardness one might have expected even from lover who had not been such in years.

Soon they were naked, and Giles was leaning towards Wesley, and Wesley was sitting down on the bed then lying back, letting Giles crawl onto the bed, on top of him.

There was a moment when Giles first felt his body touch Wesley's -- naked, everywhere, and Wesley's body was warm and strong, if much too thin. Wesley was moving beneath him, writhing just a bit, eager and ready.

Giles kissed him, and looked into his eyes. The ache was still there, no longer hidden by even a polite mask. Giles kissed him, tenderly, on either cheek.

"What--?" Wesley started.

Giles wished he could say it. Wished he had the courage to say that he could see what Wesley felt, and wanted to ease it. Erase it, and put something else in there. Joy, instead of dead pain. But he'd given up that right long ago.

Hadn't he? He gave Wesley another light kiss, and ran a hand down the length of Wesley's side. He wished he could say something, wished he knew what would explain what he felt.

The fact that he felt it was surprising him.

"Rupert?" Wesley whispered, and there was a hint in his voice of something warm.

Giles kissed him again. Wesley let him, or encouraged him, or perhaps he was begging for it. Wrapping his leg around Giles', and groaning softly as though he hadn't been kissed forever. Needing, wanting, and hesitant as well. As though he wouldn't be surprised if Giles changed his mind abruptly and left.

"Wesley, let me...." He had no idea how to explain what he wanted. What he thought Wesley needed, given everything he'd heard from Willow and everything he was seeing in Wesley's face.

"Anything," Wesley whispered, and the sound of it nearly broke him. Giles kissed him, roughly, and leaned sideways. He pulled at Wesley, tugging him to lie in the center of the bed where Giles could reach him properly. With a confused look, Wesley allowed himself to be arranged, holding onto Giles as much as possible as he did so.

Another kiss, and Giles moved his hand down Wesley's stomach, touching briefly the erection he found, eliciting a gasp and a look of eager anticipation. He smiled, gave Wesley another kiss to reassure him. This wasn't going to be over quickly, he wasn't leaving for a great many hours.

He touched Wesley's cock, playing with it before moving his hand down to Wesley's thigh. Wesley moved his legs, willingly spreading them and shifting closer when Giles nudged him to do so. Giles scooted towards the headboard, leaning so that he was nearly sitting up, and continued touching Wesley's leg, and stomach, and cock, as he also pulled him to lean against him, Wesley's back to Giles' chest.

Then he reached over and took a cracker from the plate, and brought it to Wesley's lips.

There was a brief chuckle, then Wesley opened his mouth and let Giles feed him.

Giles kissed him on the temple, then reached for another cracker. He slid his other hand underneath his lover, cupping one buttock as he brought the cracker to Wesley's mouth. He felt Wesley moan, deep rumbling in his chest as he rubbed against Giles' hand.

Before Giles picked up a third cracker, he grabbed the small bottle of lotion he'd found on the nightstand, and poured some onto his fingers. "What--" Wesley began.

Giles silenced him by feeding him the third cracker -- and, at the same time, he slid his finger into Wesley's arse.

Wesley jerked, closing his mouth on the cracker and pushing himself onto Giles' finger. Giles chuckled, and Wesley craned his head to glare at him. Giles smiled, and moved his finger, and got caught in the way Wesley's eyes closed and his face grew slack even as his entire body grew more tense.

Giles reached for another cracker. It took a moment, nudging Wesley with his hand before he opened his mouth to accept the food. As he fed Wesley, Giles continued pressing his finger inside, fucking him very slowly, despite the way Wesley was moaning, demanding more.

Another cracker, then a section of orange, all the while Giles pressed his finger in deeper, moved it around, rubbing the spot which made Wesley arch off the bed and nearly bite Giles' other fingers. Giles pressed himself close, wanting to hold him, feel him, even as he fucked and fed him. Wesley was rapidly losing any semblance of control -- moving with the motions of Giles' finger, and blindly opening his mouth when Giles touched his lips with another morsel of food.

Soon Giles' attention was more on the fucking, than the feeding, though he didn't stop. He didn't try to press a second finger inside -- he could feel how tight Wesley was, and wondered if he'd had any sex at all since the last time they'd shared a bed. Now was no time to ask, and he concentrated on watching Wesley get closer to his orgasm with each stroke.

His hips were writhing, back and forth against Giles' hand, and his legs were splayed, feet pressed against the bed, one foot wrapped in the sheets. Wesley moved his head, eyes still closed, when Giles brought another section of orange to his mouth, accepting the food with a groan as Giles moved his finger. He was whimpering, now, desperate in way much preferred than the need he'd shown earlier, when a simple touch was what he craved over being alone.

Giles wanted to flip him over and fuck him, hard, but he wanted to make Wesley come, like this. It didn't look as though it would be much longer -- fucking him as hard as he could, one more cracker placed in Wesley's mouth, and Wesley was gasping. The sound was almost painful, and Giles moved his finger again and Wesley gasped more harshly, nearly crying out.

Picking up another section of orange, Giles fed it to Wesley, placing it in his mouth even as Wesley was panting, crying out and swallowing it around the orange in his mouth as Giles fucked him, continued to fuck him as Wesley swallowed the orange, sucking on Giles' finger in his mouth briefly before Giles pulled it away -- shoving his other finger as far as it would go, and Wesley screamed.

Giles held him, then, arm around Wesley's chest as he kept the other finger moving, rubbing his hand against Wesley's buttocks and pushing his finger in and out. Wesley grabbed his arm and shoved himself back, breathing harder and his body shaking from the force of it all.

He was practically crying, now, and Giles kissed him on the forehead, then his cheek, and Wesley raised his head enough that Giles could kiss him on the mouth. Wesley trembled in his arms, then relaxed, suddenly, kissing him eagerly and not moving away from Giles' hand.

Then he lifted his head, blinking and looking as though his brain had imploded in his skull. "Time for dessert?" he asked, voice rough, and before Giles could answer he'd slid out of Giles' embrace and turned over, and Giles only figured out what he was doing as he moved his mouth towards Giles' cock.

Dinner in -- always a better idea, Giles told himself, as Wesley swallowed him.