[Locked: Angel/Spike only] So, what happened next...?
Say you love me and come home...
Seven words. And they floored me.
I expected ramble. I expected him to go on about what a pillock I am. I expected him to roll his eyes at the mess we managed to make. I expected a few suggestive comments. I expected *Spike*.
One sentence, and so much desperation that it hurt to read.
As my breath hitched, I realised that we didn't need a string of rambling, flirty comments to get back on track. We needed to be with each other, and we needed it to be then. I did reply - at the same time as I was hitting the 'call' button for the elevator - told him I was coming and to count the seconds.
I don't think an elevator has ever taken so long to arrive.
I spilled out of the doors into the apartment, and Spike was just standing there in the middle of the living room, motionless, his arms by his sides. I think I ran *at* him rather than *to* him, going on pure instinct. I hit him, still running and carried him a few feet across the floor with me, wrapping my arms around him and starting to kiss him before we'd even come to a halt.
Spike had no choice but to hang on to me; there was a split second of resistance, but then he was kissing me back; fingers tangling in hair, bodies pressed together, tongues tasting a mixture of smoke, alcohol, pure need, and oh god it felt so good.
For several minutes we just stood there and devoured each other with our mouths, until the initial urgency began to die down. Frantic, hot kisses subsided to gentle brushes with lips and tongues. Fingers that were gripping hair to the point of pain relaxed into gentle stroking, a thumb brushing over the nape of a neck, still sending a tingle down my spine in spite of everything.
I pulled Spike as close to me as I could, kissing my way along his jaw line. I took a small breath and softly whispered in his ear, 'I love you...'
I felt him freeze in my arms, but it felt so good to finally say it. I pulled away from him and held him at arms length, looking directly into those blue eyes and speaking out loud this time. 'I love you. Of course I do. How could I not...?'
Very slowly, Spike closed his eyes, two tears spilling down his cheeks. 'Forty-seven...' he whispered.
Well, it wasn't quite the response I was expecting.
'You told me to count the seconds. I got to forty-seven...' I cut him off with another kiss.
'I'm sorry, Spike. For everything I...' This time *he* cut *me* off, a finger on my lips.
'Not now, Pet, eh? We can dissect it all later, if you want to. Much later. Right now I'm tired, I'm somehow drunk *and* hungover, but you're here and that's all that matters.' He rested his head against mine, rubbing a hand over his face. Not to wipe away tears though. Definitely not crying... either of us...
Eventually, I guided Spike across to the couch and sat him down. It finally occurred to me that he'd been drinking for the best part of an entire week, and probably wasn't in the best state for anything.
'I'd offer to go and fix you something,' I said, 'but that would involve me being more than three feet away from you, which is something that I don't intend to do for a while yet.'
He just smiled and pulled me down next to him. We sat together, not needing to say anything, just needing to be there, with each other. Spike's breathing slowed to nothing as I felt him finally relax, and I made a promise to myself right then, that I would try to be honest with him from now on. I never want things to get so screwed up between us again.
Realising that neither of us were going anywhere in a hurry and deciding that the couch was as good a place as any to spent the rest of the day, there was some discussion over the best way to get comfortable. After trying a few options, I decided that I should lie down against the cushions and that Spike should lie in front of me.
I swear, I never meant for it to happen...
Yes, I *know* how it looks with hindsight, but I swear my intentions were pure - I guessed that he'd fall asleep eventually, and that I could spend the rest of the day watching him, holding him, stroking his hair and doing all the other disgustingly romantic stuff that I can only do when Spike's unconscious and therefore unable to make fun of me.
I lay holding him for a while, one arm under his head and the other across his chest. His eyes were closed and he seemed to have drifted off. I lowered my head to softly kiss his neck and he shifted against me. I froze as I felt myself start to get hard, it really wasn't what I wanted at all. I tried to move away from him but he only shifted back again, effectively nudging me to full hardness.
I knew I couldn't get away, so I just pulled him against me and tried to ignore it. I began to absently stroke his chest, letting one hand wander down across his stomach. When the heel of my hand accidentally grazed his nipple, he twitched. I brushed across it again and he began to rock against me gently. It was at this point that I began to have my suspicions about Spike actually being asleep.
Still, neither of us said anything, we just continued our stroking and rocking. My fingers ghosted feather-light touches across his body, never settling anywhere, but carefully working its way around the hard nubs under his t-shirt and the bulge in the front of his jeans. Spike never thrust back against me, but provided just the tiniest amount of resistance, the tiniest amount of friction against my cock. I had no idea what we were doing, but it felt pretty good.
Finally, Spike muttered, 'Fuck this...' and flipped over in my arms. Within two seconds, he had both arms wrapped around me and his tongue in my mouth. It was like someone had flipped a switch, and we went from gentle teasing to full-on passion in an instant.
The problem was, we'd not had 'the discussion'. We didn't talk about what happened, so we hadn't covered 'where do we go now?' or 'what's the next step?'. There we were on the couch, going from nought to sixty in the blink of an eye, but neither of us had any idea where it was leading, and I don’t think either of us thought that it was right to ask.
Consequently, we spent the next half an hour lying on the couch and making out like teenagers, our hands groping under clothes instead of just stripping them off like we usually do, and kissing endlessly...
God, was there kissing. I don't think we ever stopped; it was like we couldn't get enough of each other. We slowed right down to nothing *but* kissing - slow, open-mouthed kisses that made my toes curl up with need. Then touching, light brushes of fingers that became more and more insistent, until we were grinding against each other and making a hell of a lot of noise for two guys not having sex.
It wasn't until my pants were unbuttoned, and Spike's hand was down the front of them, wrapped around my cock, that I finally made him stop. I pulled back and looked at him - his eyes dilated to almost all black, lips flushed and kiss-swollen, his t-shirt hitched up around his waist, the top two buttons of his jeans undone, making them ride low enough to reveal that tiny trail of hair...
It took every ounce of self-control I had to say, 'We need to...' Spike's hand squeezed gently. 'Fuck, Spike! We need to stop.'
'Why are we stopping?' he breathed.
'Because...' Why *were* we stopping? Too soon? Too much? Too...? I remembered the promise I made to be honest with him. 'Because... If we carry on like this, I'll want to fuck you,' I said, finally.
'And that's a bad thing because...?' Spike asked with a small grin.
'Because...' I didn't need to say 'too soon' or 'too much' because it was written all over my face, along with a bucket load of guilt.
Spike kissed me again. 'I want this. You have no idea how much I want this, but take it from me - I do. So quit with the brooding and get with the shagging, poof!'
My Spike, ever the romantic.
Within a few minutes, I'd stripped Spike's t-shirt off, and he was wriggling out of his jeans as my own shirt and pants made a quick exit. Despite its confines, we never moved from the couch, never went into the bedroom. There was a kind of silent acknowledgement between us of not only needing the familiar, but also needing it to be very different from... the last time.
That's why there was no question in either of our minds when I manoeuvred myself on top of Spike. There'll be time enough later on to explore what we so royally fucked up the last time - right then we needed familiarity. Leaning over him, I stopped, suddenly realising that what we needed was still in the bedroom.
'Just do it!' he hissed back at me.
'No Spike, I don't want...'
'Fine!' he said, groping under the cushions and eventually coming up with a small tube.
'How did you...?'
He shrugged. 'It's us, Angel - most people have loose change down the back of their sofa, we have lube!'
Taking it from him with a grin, I coated myself slowly, enjoying the sensations of my slick fist. Spike watched, all but salivating from his prone position.
'Bloody hell, Angel! Stop taking the piss!'
Okay, I was satisfied that it was definitely what he wanted. After so much build-up neither of us could wait any longer. I pushed into him; watching as Spike squeezed his eyes shut and gripped the cushions until his knuckles turned white. I didn't stop though, and he didn't tell me to.
After a couple of seconds, I felt him start to relax. Damn, he felt so good... so tight. Had it really only been a matter of days? It felt like coming home after a lifetime away. Slowly, he began to push back against me, tilting his hips to meet mine. A few seconds later and he was reaching down between us to try and jerk himself off.
'Oh, no you don't.' I said with a grin, gripping his wrist tightly and pulling his arm up above his head, doing the same with the other arm. 'You come when I say, or you don't come at all. Clear?'
Spike whimpered and nodded, but turned his head sideways against his bicep, trying to hide the matching grin on his own face. The position stretched his lean body out beneath me and I couldn't help but stare at him. So damned beautiful. If I live another two hundred and fifty years, I'll never get tired of that sight. I slowed the pace; pulling out almost completely before pushing back in, just to watch the lust in his eyes.
Gradually the pace began to build; slow, deep strokes giving way to fast, shallow ones, bringing us closer to the edge. I might have been making noise, perhaps even coherent words, but all I could hear were Spike's moans and cries of pleasure. He sounded on the verge of...
'Angel... I need to... please...'
... begging! I didn't release his hands though, or even touch him. Instead, I shifted my position, lowering my body until we were pressed together and trapping his erection between his stomach and mine.
'Angel! You...' Spike began with a hiss of frustration, but as I released his arms and held him tightly, we began to rock together and he got the idea. It wasn't as fast or furious now, but it felt so good, our bodies sliding together.
The combination of being inside him after so long, the soft moans he was making and the look of concentration on his face as he tried to bring himself off on the friction alone, was enough to tell me that I wasn't going to last much longer.
'Oh god, yes, Spike... So good... So close... Want you to come for me... Now...' I felt everything start to contract and suddenly he was arching his back and crying out as he came. A split-second later and I couldn't have held on any longer, powerful contractions taking me with him into oblivion.
I don't remember collapsing right on top of Spike. All I remember is a feeling of unstoppable release and then my brain rolling around the inside of my head, making the world turn pretty colours... until an indignant voice from underneath me spoke up.
'I know I don't need the oxygen, Luv, but a bit of daylight would be nice, eh?'
Dazed and confused but with a huge grin plastered across my face, I managed to lean up off him, on arms that suddenly felt like spaghetti. My legs appeared to have gone the same way too. Eventually, we both struggled into something approaching upright.
In the silence, I couldn't help wondering if I'd done the right thing. Was it too soon? Did I coerce him into this? Should I have waited? Fuck, I just had no self-control when it came to Spike, I knew that, and suddenly I felt like I should have stopped it.
As if he could sense my guilt, he turned to face me, pulling me into a slow, deep kiss. 'Shh... I wanted it... we *both* wanted it.' He kissed me again, teasing my lips apart with his tongue. More long, torturously sensual kisses as we worked our way back down to horizontal again. I pulled Spike over to lie on top of me and a brief flicker of pain flashed across his face.
'Spike, I'm really...' he clamped a hand over my mouth.
'If you say sorry, I will personally kick your sorry arse down to the lobby and leave it there!' He rested his head against mine and his eyes fluttered closed for a second. 'Maybe I'll have to owe you an arse kicking, but it'll be the first thing I do after... I dunno... maybe a few decades of sleep?'
He shifted a little and we lay there together, his head resting on my chest, my arms wrapped around him. I love that part almost as much as the sex. For which I will undoubtedly get called 'poof'!
'I am though,' I whispered finally. 'Sorry. For more things than you'll ever know.' A pause and then, 'I never mean to hurt you. I never have done. But somehow I always seem to manage it. I just hope we can get it right this time... Spike?'
But he was already asleep.
As I write this, he's sprawled across our bed, snoring elegantly. I just went and pulled the sheets over him, kissing his forehead and whispering, 'I love you'.
It doesn't matter that he's asleep. I can tell him again when he wakes up.
Seven words. And they floored me.
I expected ramble. I expected him to go on about what a pillock I am. I expected him to roll his eyes at the mess we managed to make. I expected a few suggestive comments. I expected *Spike*.
One sentence, and so much desperation that it hurt to read.
As my breath hitched, I realised that we didn't need a string of rambling, flirty comments to get back on track. We needed to be with each other, and we needed it to be then. I did reply - at the same time as I was hitting the 'call' button for the elevator - told him I was coming and to count the seconds.
I don't think an elevator has ever taken so long to arrive.
I spilled out of the doors into the apartment, and Spike was just standing there in the middle of the living room, motionless, his arms by his sides. I think I ran *at* him rather than *to* him, going on pure instinct. I hit him, still running and carried him a few feet across the floor with me, wrapping my arms around him and starting to kiss him before we'd even come to a halt.
Spike had no choice but to hang on to me; there was a split second of resistance, but then he was kissing me back; fingers tangling in hair, bodies pressed together, tongues tasting a mixture of smoke, alcohol, pure need, and oh god it felt so good.
For several minutes we just stood there and devoured each other with our mouths, until the initial urgency began to die down. Frantic, hot kisses subsided to gentle brushes with lips and tongues. Fingers that were gripping hair to the point of pain relaxed into gentle stroking, a thumb brushing over the nape of a neck, still sending a tingle down my spine in spite of everything.
I pulled Spike as close to me as I could, kissing my way along his jaw line. I took a small breath and softly whispered in his ear, 'I love you...'
I felt him freeze in my arms, but it felt so good to finally say it. I pulled away from him and held him at arms length, looking directly into those blue eyes and speaking out loud this time. 'I love you. Of course I do. How could I not...?'
Very slowly, Spike closed his eyes, two tears spilling down his cheeks. 'Forty-seven...' he whispered.
Well, it wasn't quite the response I was expecting.
'You told me to count the seconds. I got to forty-seven...' I cut him off with another kiss.
'I'm sorry, Spike. For everything I...' This time *he* cut *me* off, a finger on my lips.
'Not now, Pet, eh? We can dissect it all later, if you want to. Much later. Right now I'm tired, I'm somehow drunk *and* hungover, but you're here and that's all that matters.' He rested his head against mine, rubbing a hand over his face. Not to wipe away tears though. Definitely not crying... either of us...
Eventually, I guided Spike across to the couch and sat him down. It finally occurred to me that he'd been drinking for the best part of an entire week, and probably wasn't in the best state for anything.
'I'd offer to go and fix you something,' I said, 'but that would involve me being more than three feet away from you, which is something that I don't intend to do for a while yet.'
He just smiled and pulled me down next to him. We sat together, not needing to say anything, just needing to be there, with each other. Spike's breathing slowed to nothing as I felt him finally relax, and I made a promise to myself right then, that I would try to be honest with him from now on. I never want things to get so screwed up between us again.
Realising that neither of us were going anywhere in a hurry and deciding that the couch was as good a place as any to spent the rest of the day, there was some discussion over the best way to get comfortable. After trying a few options, I decided that I should lie down against the cushions and that Spike should lie in front of me.
I swear, I never meant for it to happen...
Yes, I *know* how it looks with hindsight, but I swear my intentions were pure - I guessed that he'd fall asleep eventually, and that I could spend the rest of the day watching him, holding him, stroking his hair and doing all the other disgustingly romantic stuff that I can only do when Spike's unconscious and therefore unable to make fun of me.
I lay holding him for a while, one arm under his head and the other across his chest. His eyes were closed and he seemed to have drifted off. I lowered my head to softly kiss his neck and he shifted against me. I froze as I felt myself start to get hard, it really wasn't what I wanted at all. I tried to move away from him but he only shifted back again, effectively nudging me to full hardness.
I knew I couldn't get away, so I just pulled him against me and tried to ignore it. I began to absently stroke his chest, letting one hand wander down across his stomach. When the heel of my hand accidentally grazed his nipple, he twitched. I brushed across it again and he began to rock against me gently. It was at this point that I began to have my suspicions about Spike actually being asleep.
Still, neither of us said anything, we just continued our stroking and rocking. My fingers ghosted feather-light touches across his body, never settling anywhere, but carefully working its way around the hard nubs under his t-shirt and the bulge in the front of his jeans. Spike never thrust back against me, but provided just the tiniest amount of resistance, the tiniest amount of friction against my cock. I had no idea what we were doing, but it felt pretty good.
Finally, Spike muttered, 'Fuck this...' and flipped over in my arms. Within two seconds, he had both arms wrapped around me and his tongue in my mouth. It was like someone had flipped a switch, and we went from gentle teasing to full-on passion in an instant.
The problem was, we'd not had 'the discussion'. We didn't talk about what happened, so we hadn't covered 'where do we go now?' or 'what's the next step?'. There we were on the couch, going from nought to sixty in the blink of an eye, but neither of us had any idea where it was leading, and I don’t think either of us thought that it was right to ask.
Consequently, we spent the next half an hour lying on the couch and making out like teenagers, our hands groping under clothes instead of just stripping them off like we usually do, and kissing endlessly...
God, was there kissing. I don't think we ever stopped; it was like we couldn't get enough of each other. We slowed right down to nothing *but* kissing - slow, open-mouthed kisses that made my toes curl up with need. Then touching, light brushes of fingers that became more and more insistent, until we were grinding against each other and making a hell of a lot of noise for two guys not having sex.
It wasn't until my pants were unbuttoned, and Spike's hand was down the front of them, wrapped around my cock, that I finally made him stop. I pulled back and looked at him - his eyes dilated to almost all black, lips flushed and kiss-swollen, his t-shirt hitched up around his waist, the top two buttons of his jeans undone, making them ride low enough to reveal that tiny trail of hair...
It took every ounce of self-control I had to say, 'We need to...' Spike's hand squeezed gently. 'Fuck, Spike! We need to stop.'
'Why are we stopping?' he breathed.
'Because...' Why *were* we stopping? Too soon? Too much? Too...? I remembered the promise I made to be honest with him. 'Because... If we carry on like this, I'll want to fuck you,' I said, finally.
'And that's a bad thing because...?' Spike asked with a small grin.
'Because...' I didn't need to say 'too soon' or 'too much' because it was written all over my face, along with a bucket load of guilt.
Spike kissed me again. 'I want this. You have no idea how much I want this, but take it from me - I do. So quit with the brooding and get with the shagging, poof!'
My Spike, ever the romantic.
Within a few minutes, I'd stripped Spike's t-shirt off, and he was wriggling out of his jeans as my own shirt and pants made a quick exit. Despite its confines, we never moved from the couch, never went into the bedroom. There was a kind of silent acknowledgement between us of not only needing the familiar, but also needing it to be very different from... the last time.
That's why there was no question in either of our minds when I manoeuvred myself on top of Spike. There'll be time enough later on to explore what we so royally fucked up the last time - right then we needed familiarity. Leaning over him, I stopped, suddenly realising that what we needed was still in the bedroom.
'Just do it!' he hissed back at me.
'No Spike, I don't want...'
'Fine!' he said, groping under the cushions and eventually coming up with a small tube.
'How did you...?'
He shrugged. 'It's us, Angel - most people have loose change down the back of their sofa, we have lube!'
Taking it from him with a grin, I coated myself slowly, enjoying the sensations of my slick fist. Spike watched, all but salivating from his prone position.
'Bloody hell, Angel! Stop taking the piss!'
Okay, I was satisfied that it was definitely what he wanted. After so much build-up neither of us could wait any longer. I pushed into him; watching as Spike squeezed his eyes shut and gripped the cushions until his knuckles turned white. I didn't stop though, and he didn't tell me to.
After a couple of seconds, I felt him start to relax. Damn, he felt so good... so tight. Had it really only been a matter of days? It felt like coming home after a lifetime away. Slowly, he began to push back against me, tilting his hips to meet mine. A few seconds later and he was reaching down between us to try and jerk himself off.
'Oh, no you don't.' I said with a grin, gripping his wrist tightly and pulling his arm up above his head, doing the same with the other arm. 'You come when I say, or you don't come at all. Clear?'
Spike whimpered and nodded, but turned his head sideways against his bicep, trying to hide the matching grin on his own face. The position stretched his lean body out beneath me and I couldn't help but stare at him. So damned beautiful. If I live another two hundred and fifty years, I'll never get tired of that sight. I slowed the pace; pulling out almost completely before pushing back in, just to watch the lust in his eyes.
Gradually the pace began to build; slow, deep strokes giving way to fast, shallow ones, bringing us closer to the edge. I might have been making noise, perhaps even coherent words, but all I could hear were Spike's moans and cries of pleasure. He sounded on the verge of...
'Angel... I need to... please...'
... begging! I didn't release his hands though, or even touch him. Instead, I shifted my position, lowering my body until we were pressed together and trapping his erection between his stomach and mine.
'Angel! You...' Spike began with a hiss of frustration, but as I released his arms and held him tightly, we began to rock together and he got the idea. It wasn't as fast or furious now, but it felt so good, our bodies sliding together.
The combination of being inside him after so long, the soft moans he was making and the look of concentration on his face as he tried to bring himself off on the friction alone, was enough to tell me that I wasn't going to last much longer.
'Oh god, yes, Spike... So good... So close... Want you to come for me... Now...' I felt everything start to contract and suddenly he was arching his back and crying out as he came. A split-second later and I couldn't have held on any longer, powerful contractions taking me with him into oblivion.
I don't remember collapsing right on top of Spike. All I remember is a feeling of unstoppable release and then my brain rolling around the inside of my head, making the world turn pretty colours... until an indignant voice from underneath me spoke up.
'I know I don't need the oxygen, Luv, but a bit of daylight would be nice, eh?'
Dazed and confused but with a huge grin plastered across my face, I managed to lean up off him, on arms that suddenly felt like spaghetti. My legs appeared to have gone the same way too. Eventually, we both struggled into something approaching upright.
In the silence, I couldn't help wondering if I'd done the right thing. Was it too soon? Did I coerce him into this? Should I have waited? Fuck, I just had no self-control when it came to Spike, I knew that, and suddenly I felt like I should have stopped it.
As if he could sense my guilt, he turned to face me, pulling me into a slow, deep kiss. 'Shh... I wanted it... we *both* wanted it.' He kissed me again, teasing my lips apart with his tongue. More long, torturously sensual kisses as we worked our way back down to horizontal again. I pulled Spike over to lie on top of me and a brief flicker of pain flashed across his face.
'Spike, I'm really...' he clamped a hand over my mouth.
'If you say sorry, I will personally kick your sorry arse down to the lobby and leave it there!' He rested his head against mine and his eyes fluttered closed for a second. 'Maybe I'll have to owe you an arse kicking, but it'll be the first thing I do after... I dunno... maybe a few decades of sleep?'
He shifted a little and we lay there together, his head resting on my chest, my arms wrapped around him. I love that part almost as much as the sex. For which I will undoubtedly get called 'poof'!
'I am though,' I whispered finally. 'Sorry. For more things than you'll ever know.' A pause and then, 'I never mean to hurt you. I never have done. But somehow I always seem to manage it. I just hope we can get it right this time... Spike?'
But he was already asleep.
As I write this, he's sprawled across our bed, snoring elegantly. I just went and pulled the sheets over him, kissing his forehead and whispering, 'I love you'.
It doesn't matter that he's asleep. I can tell him again when he wakes up.