Title: Rebel Rebel
Fandom: Buffy
Pairing: Giles/Ethan
Warning: Slash, Swearing
Disclaimer: The usual, i.e. I own neither the characters or the song used to create this fic. I mean no harm and I make no profit. Please don't sue.
Notes: Written in 45mins for the contrelamontre David Bowie: Song Title challenge. There might be a sequal if the muse takes me. Anyway, please review!
Hot tramp, I love you so!
When Ethan Rayne manages to think at all, he thinks of that first time. Barely sixteen, dressed to cause a riot in leather and stolen glitter, and hornier than a harem of nymphomaniacs in heat, he'd been looking for someone as magnificent as he to spend a magnificent night with. He'd not been having much luck, if he remembered rightly. A sea of mundanes had washed around and over him, all playing at being fiercely original with tricks learnt from the same magazines. He wants to lose himself in the memory of the first words Ripper ever said to him when the men in masks bring out the needles. They rip away any hope of that with the first injection, the pain making the memory waver and disappear even as he reaches out to grasp it, and hold it close.
You've got your mother in a whirl
'Cos she's not sure if you're a boy or a girl
Hey babe, your hairs alright
Hey babe, let's go out tonight
You like me, and I like it all
We like dancing and we look divine
You love bands when they're playing hard
You want more and you want it fast
They put you down, they say I'm wrong
You tacky thing, you put them on
"Ahh, come on, stop being such a pricktease." The man – at least Ethan assumed it to be male, he hadn't bothered to turn and check gender – teased, his rather sweaty hands pawing at the teen's tight leather pants. Ethan suppressed a shudder of disgust and shoved the shocked looking man away.
"I want fuck all to do with your prick, mate." Ethan growled, going back to his drink without once glancing at the man on the other stool.
"What, dressed up like a queer little slut, and you're not interested in a gorgeous example like me?!"
Ethan turned his head slightly, narrowing his eyes at the older man beside me who glared right back. "Mate, hate to tell you this, but you've got the face of a baboons arse – after a car crash."
"You little shit! I'll –"
"Hey baby, this fucker bothering you?" A deep voice growled in his ear, a strong arm curling possessively around his waist. Ethan grinned widely, already able to feel the power coming off the young man behind him. And that voice... Goosebumps weren't the only things that started to rise.
"Nah. He's just having a problem understanding that you're coming home with me tonight." Ethan replied cheekily, and before either the Baboon or his mystery helper could respond, he'd turned around in his seat and taken the mystery man's mouth for himself.
They must have put on quite a display, because when they eventually stopped snogging Baboon-man had gone. Ethan didn't care. He was flying on adrenaline and lust, and unashamedly pressed himself up against his very good looking new friend.
"Ethan." He said by way of an introduction, still grinning smugly. The boy answered his grin, strong hands tightening deliciously on his hips. They pulled the smaller Ethan forward an inch or two to discover an answering hardness.
"Ripper." He got in response before he was being pressed back against the bar, being kissed hard.
Oh. Yes.
This one could stay.
Rebel rebel, youve torn your dress
Rebel rebel, your face is a mess
Rebel rebel, how could they know?
Hot tramp, I love you so!