ANGEL Fic: Hard Time (7/?) -- A/S
Title: Hard Time
Author: Magz
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Angel/Spike, Spike/Andrew, brief mentions of Forrest/Fem!Jonathan, Adam/Andrew, Wood/Xander, & Gunn/Scott Hope.
Summary: Violently cracktastic porn AU. Spike's a computer hacker who's just received a ten-year prison sentence. He's taken under the wing of Angel, who agrees to protect him from the bigger and stronger inmates than himself in exchange for sex. It's like every prison porn movie ever made. Only with more sex.
Warnings: Wildly OOC, rape/attempted, character bashing, violence, mild BDSM, gratuitous use of sparkly pink butt plugs, feminization of a male character
Prologue · 1 · 2 · 3 · 4 · 5 · 6
SEVEN -- THERE WAS A BOY
"Ungh... hungh... gnagh..."
"What'd ye like fer Christmas?"
"I... ugh... I don't know, really," Spike panted, sweat beading on his skin. His muscles tensed and relaxed as he continued his repetitive movements. "Why... hunh... why do you ask?"
"Don't rightly know," Angel replied. "Was thinkin maybe... might get you somethin'."
"One ninety-nine... two hundred." After his last sit-up, the blond scooted back and leaned against the side of the bed. He turned and glanced over at his cellmate. "Chocolate," he said.
Angel splashed water on his face one last time and set his razor and shaving cream aside, then picked up a towel and patted his face dry. He took a second towel back to the bed. "Chocolate?" he asked, draping the terrycloth over Spike's shoulders and touching his head once, slowly, in passing. "Ye sure that nothin' more... substantial... strikes yer fancy?"
"I haven't had chocolate since before I was arrested," Spike said as he dried himself off and tugged his sweat-dampened undershirt over his head. "Got everything else on the outside." When he was suitably dry, he stood up and flopped back on the bed with a soft grunt. Then he rolled onto his side and curled around Angel's hip, walking his fingers up the Irishman's arm. "What do you want for Christmas?"
"Oh," Angel said. "Ye don't have to..."
"Liam Angelus Killarney, if I want to buy you a prezzie, I'm gonna buy it. Stop pretendin' like you don't want it." Spike looked up at him and winked. "Now tell me what you'd like."
"Besides yer autobiography, ye mean?" Angel nudged Spike off to the side and lay down, tugging the blond atop him. "Could use some new paper an' mayhap a bit of charcoal." He draped an arm around Spike's waist. "Don't need t' go to any trouble, though."
"It's no trouble," Spike replied, shaking his head. He propped his chin up on the dark-haired man's chest. "My autobiography, eh?"
Angel nodded. "Only if ye'd like to tell me," he said.
Spike tilted his head, pondering it for a moment. "Once upon a time, there was a chap named William. He was quite popular an' good lookin'..."
Ten Years Before...
"Mister Prescott, are you paying attention?"
The sixteen-year-old boy with sandy hair, pimples, and Coke-bottle glasses, shifted in his seat and snored softly.
"Mister Prescott," the teacher asked again, approaching the student's desk as the class looked on. He leaned in close to the sleeping boy's head. "William!" he shouted.
"What? What?" William asked, sitting up with a jolt and straightening his spectacles, which had been resting askew on his nose. "Oliver Cromwell," he muttered reflexively.
The class tittered in amusement.
"That's excellent, Mister Prescott, but this is human biology, and we're currently discussing the digestive system. Would you care to tell me what the function of the appendix is?" The teacher returned to the front of the room and leaned against his desk.
William fumbled for an answer for a moment, his cheeks suffusing with color as embarrassment flooded him. "The, ah... the appendix, sir?" he stuttered. "The appendix has... has no true function in the, ah, the modern human. But some scientists believe that it provided a means to - to digest bone, in the... in prehistoric times." He sank down in his seat and tried to hide his face with his books.
Two girls in the back row of the class room watched William with undisguised interest. They leaned in and whispered to each other, nodding and smiling, then returned their attention to the teacher before he noticed and called on them. They were the most popular girls in the school, and they were going to make William live up to his full potential. Why? Because they had the power in the school, and they could do it.
After school, the same two girls caught up with William as he was leaving the building. He had no idea what was in store for him.
Present Day
"Wait, so ye're tellin' me that ye never once worried about havin' a spotty face, or bad breath, an' that the ladies flocked all over you?" Angel asked, rolling them so his legs tangled with the smaller man's and he hovered over him. "I'm havin' trouble believin' ye." He looked into Spike's eyes. "Ye can tell me th' truth if ye'd like. Won't leave the room, I promise ye."
Spike rolled his eyes and sighed. "Ruin my fun," he muttered. "I was unpopular, had horrible acne, an' couldn't see for shit. Happy?"
Angel smiled down at him. "Ecstatic, mo rún," he corrected, kissing him once, twice, then pulling away so Spike could continue his story.
"One day, two of the beautiful chits in the school stopped me on my way out th' door. Told me they'd make me a god - like them." Spike's gaze grew distant and hazy. "They were right."
Ten Years Before
"You sure I need to wear all of... this?" William asked, looking down at himself, then in the mirror. He raised an eyebrow when he noted the black eyeliner that'd been carefully applied, then up to his hair, bleached blond with a touch of glitter. His eyes fell on his ensemble again. "You can see m'nipples. It's indecent."
One of the girls in the room with him fussed over the hem of his shirt, straightening it and closing a safety pin that had come undone. "You look gorgeous. Now sneer for Lilah so she can put on the rest of your makeup."
William rolled his eyes and sighed, then puckered up as the other girl applied a thin coat of lip color. "I don't hee hi I haf huh do hisch," he said around the lip brush. He waited until Lilah was through with the lip rouge, then moved his mouth around, feeling weird with his lips covered in the cosmetic. "Can't I just go to school wearin' what I normally wear?"
"Please, Will, look at yourself. Nobody will be able to resist you," the other girl, Faith, proclaimed. She tossed her dark brown locks over one shoulder and picked at his shirt again. "And who knew you were hiding such a... delicious body under all those baggy clothes?"
"Finishing touch," Lilah said, handing a white contacts box to William. "Put these in, love." She ran a hand over William's smooth, pimple-free cheek, and smiled, knowing her hard work with Clearsil and Oxy had paid off. "You're a whole new man. Nothing's ever gonna be the same for you again."
"You'll fuck a different girl every weekend," Faith said, running a hand up Spike's thigh and cupping his groin briefly. "If that's your thing." She quirked an eyebrow and winked knowingly, causing William to furrow his brow in confusion. "You're going to be the hottest thing our school has ever seen. We've made you a new man. But... you still need a new name."
"Spike," Lilah said suddenly. "What do you think, Faith?" Lilah combed a hand through Faith's hair and kissed her quickly on the lips, then trailed a finger down William's chest. "It's sexy, it's not too long..."
"Spike," Faith said, brushing Lilah's shoulder-length hair out of the way and then licking her earlobe before leaning over and doing the same to William. "It's perfect."
And so William became a memory.
Spike upheld his girls' expectations to the last detail. He slept with so many different girls, that he lost count after a few months. And when Lilah and Faith saw him off in the airport as he was leaving for college in the US, by dragging him into the bathroom and fucking his brains out, Spike finally believed he was sexy.
Present Day
Spike was still a bit glazed over, and his breath came in soft pants. Angel frowned, then rested a forearm on either side of his head and kissed him hard, determined to take his mind off the airport threesome.
Five Years Before
"Fuck, that party was..."
"I know. Best part was when - "
"Alan got up on th' table an' started dancin' around."
"No, no, when he fell off, after."
Spike stumbled down the hallway of his college dorm, his arm around the shoulders of his roommate, Wesley. He tossed his half-empty beer cup in the nearest trash can, then leaned heavily on the other man. "C'n you believe we're gonna be done next week?" he slurred.
"Seems like only yesterday," Wes agreed. "Are you gonna go to Kim's room?"
Spike shook his head at the mention of his girlfriend's name. "She's studyin' for finals," he said. "Luckily, I'm all done, which means I get to spend some quality time with... you. M'best mate."
Wes smiled a little, then shouted as he tripped over an invisible bump in the floor and nearly falling down.
Spike somehow managed to catch his friend around the waist and haul him back up. "Watch out, mate," he said, squinting to focus on the doors as they slowly made their way through the building. "Two-ten, two-twelve... what room are we again?"
"Same one we've been in since first year," Wes said, looking over at Spike and covering his mouth as he belched. "Though I'm having a bit of trouble remembering which that is."
"Two-fourteen..." Spike read, his hand going for the doorknob as he swayed slightly. "Here we are." He opened the door, blinking a few times as he noticed that all his and Wes' stuff had been replaced with very feminine things. His eyes fell on a pair of co-eds gyrating on the bed, the sheets around their waists, then turned back to Wes. "Wrong room," he said, gesturing at the couple.
"Two-sixteen!" Wes exclaimed loudly.
The couple on the bed stopped grinding together for a moment, and the guy turned long enough to grunt, "Fuck off, dickheads," before turning back to his girlfriend and screwing her senseless.
Spike backed slowly out of the room and closed the door, then walked a few steps further down the hall, to their room, a wide grin on his face. "You really missed out, not takin' it," he said to Wes as his roommate looked through his pockets for his keys.
Wesley shook his head and patted his hips, then his back pockets. "Told you, Spike, the last thing I need... a week before graduation is to start taking E again. Do you have your keys?"
The bleached-blond spread his arms wide and leaned against the door. "Search me," he said, looking Wes over. "Why're you always th' graceful drunk, anyway?"
"Gimme your keys," Wes said. "Can't get in without them."
"I said, search me," Spike replied. "Too drunk to look for keys."
"Too high, you mean," the other man corrected, stumbling slightly as he approached Spike. "I'm drunker than you are."
"Are not," Spike countered, sticking his tongue out childishly.
Wes followed the movement of Spike's tongue over full, pink lips, his eyes glazing slightly. "Just don't cry 'rape'," he warned, stepping up to his roommate and starting to pat him down.
He wormed his index fingers into Spike's front pockets, then slid his hands around to the back, patting a few times and feeling a key-shaped lump over his roommate's left ass cheek. "Found it," he stated, wiggling his fingers into Spike's back pocket and nearly moaning aloud at the feel of the denim-covered mound that he was palming. For a brief moment, he wondered what would happen if he came out to his roommate. Then he shook his head, gripped Spike's key and tugged it out, and slid it into the lock.
The door swung abruptly open.
Spike grabbed Wes' shirtfront as he tumbled backwards, hitting the carpet with a thud and a soft grunt. Wes sprawled out on top of him. Spike squirmed underneath his roommate as he regained control of his breathing. Something hard was poking him in the thigh. "Wes, mate? You're uh..."
Wes lifted up a bit, levering himself up with his forearms. His crotch rubbed against Spike's. "Uh... yeah," he mumbled, getting to his feet and closing the door.
"So am I," Spike said.
Present Day
"I thought ye'd never -- "
"I didn't cum," Spike interjected. "Was too high, or drunk, or maybe just plain scared to shoot. Had to toss off after."
Angel raised himself up so he could look down at his bedmate. "Ye mean 'e didn't even have th' decency to suck ye off?"
"He did," Spike said shortly, hoping the subject would change before he asked Angel why he'd never received a blowjob from him. "We graduated the next week, an' I never saw him again. He hadn't meant t' come out like that, an' I hadn't meant to help him. Morning after was... somethin' else."
"Everyone's fucked someone that they didn't intend to," Angel said. "For me, it was my best friend's brother, when I was in th' eleventh grade. His parents found out, an' they moved to Belfast. Last I heard, Pete -- that's my friend -- owned a store in Belfast, an' his brother'd settled down with another guy a few years older than 'im."
"Why didn't you follow him?" the blond asked.
"He left," the Irishman replied. "Mayhap, if I'd loved 'im, but it was just a casual fuck fer th' both of us."
"Hmm," Spike said, sliding his hands up Angel's back. He shifted underneath his cellmate, noticing the effect that their conversation was having on both of them. "I heard that they do blood tests in th' infirmary. Was thinking maybe we could get tested... been curious as to what it'd be like..."
"Without a condom?" Angel finished.
Spike nodded.
"It's like nothin' ye've ever felt before, mo rún. If this is somethin' ye really want t' feel, then we'll get tested, yeah?"
"I want to feel it," Spike replied. "Let's do it."
Angel smiled, releasing a little breath through his nose as he reached out and touched Spike's face. "C'mere."
The blond raised his head, cupping the back of Angel's, and kissed him. His other hand slid up one of Angel's arms and rested on his shoulder, kneading the muscles there as their lips parted and their tongues met. Spreading his thighs slightly so the Irishman could slip a knee between them, he pressed up against Angel, rubbing their groins together.
The loud clearing of a throat caused them to pull back with disappointed groans. They turned their heads toward the cell door, where Riley was standing holding a letter. "Prescott," he said. "I've got a letter for you."
Reluctantly, Angel rolled off the blond and stood to let him up.
Spike got to his feet and headed over to the front of the cell, taking the envelope from the guard, who turned and returned to his post. The handwriting caused Spike to tense and he cleared his throat.
The Irishman saw his cellmate's body stiffen and went to his side, placing a hand on the small of his back and running his thumb over Spike's tattoo. "Everythin' alright?" he asked.
The blond didn't get a chance to answer.
"Spike," Luke called from across the block. "I couldn't help but overhear that you're planning on getting a blood test done. Why don't you let me know when the results are in? I'd enjoy being the first to have you raw."
"Your dick isn't ever goin' anywhere near my ass, you hideous landmass," Spike called back with more confidence than he felt. He fingered his letter for a moment, until a low rumbling noise caused him to whip his head to the side to look at Angel. "Did you just growl?" he asked.
Angel's response was to snatch the letter from Spike's hand, toss it aside, then pin the smaller man to the bars of the cell and attack his throat with vicious, biting kisses. His right arm wrapped around the blond's waist while his left hand shoved at the waistband of his pants, finally unbuttoning them and groping the naked flesh beneath them.
Spike gasped, clutching at the bars and tilting his head back, his eyes closing as white-hot pleasure danced through him. Angel had never shown his possessive side before, and as the dark-haired man's teeth scraped lightly down the inside of his arm to catch the pulse point at his wrist in a sucking kiss, he decided he'd make him jealous more often. "Fuck," he grunted as Angel roughly palmed his ass.
The dark-haired man pushed Spike's pants and boxers down further, catching them with his foot and pulling them off one leg altogether. He kicked Spike's legs apart and mouthed each protruding vertebra hotly as he made his way down the blond's spine, tongue swirling and teeth nipping as he grew closer and closer to his destination. "Hold the bars tight," he rasped, spreading Spike's ass cheeks and licking down between them. He pressed on either side of the little hole with his thumbs, watching as it opened for him, then thrust his tongue against it roughly.
"Christ, Angel," Spike groaned, arching his back and hissing in pleasure when his hot, hard cock brushed against the cool metal of the cell bars. His knees buckled, his knuckles turning white with his grip on the bars when Angel's tongue pushed up and inside him, spearing his hole over and over again with fast strokes.
Angel's tongue withdrew, lapping and chewing at the widening sphincter, before plunging inside again and gathering the musky taste of Spike. He moaned against Spike's ass, causing the blond to tremble. One of his hands flew to his waistband, unfastening his pants. He shoved them down, below his ass, and continued to drive Spike wild.
"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," Spike chanted mindlessly as he heard the snap of a condom being rolled into place. He pressed his ass back against Angel's face, needing more. His pucker clenched and relaxed spasmodically as Angel pushed more of his saliva inside, getting him wet and ready. "Please, Angel..."
He whimpered when Angel pulled his mouth away.
The whimper turned into a raspy scream of pleasure as Angel got to his feet, pulled Spike's ass back against him, and shoved his cock inside to the hilt in one stroke. Without waiting for Spike to adjust, Angel began a hard, fast rhythm, his hips snapping against the blond's ass. He returned his attention to Spike's throat, sucking and licking, marking him.
Spike threw his head back against Angel's shoulder, moaning and panting, his body heaving with lust. He found his cock with one hand, starting to stroke it, but Angel slapped his hand away and replaced it with his own. The blond's hand returned to the bars, gripping them tightly as Angel fucked him with thrusts so hard that his entire body jerked every time.
Angel raised his head, finding Luke with a deadly glare. "Ye're mine," he murmured in Spike's ear. "He'll... never... touch you." He offered Luke a two-fingered salute, then sucked down on Spike's throat and started pulling on his cock faster. "Nobody... else." Angel didn't know if he meant Luke, or if he meant Spike's one-night stand in college. All he knew was that he was going to fuck Spike so hard he'd never, never think about fucking another man.
The blond shuddered and groaned as he entered sensory overload from Angel's words. "Fuck fuck fuck," he gasped, arching his back and writhing in Angel's grip. The possessiveness of his cell mate drove him wild. The new angle of Angel's cock inside him as they shifted, drove him over the edge. "Angel!" he rasped, trembling as he shot into the Irishman's hand.
The dark-haired man caught Spike's hot cum in his palm, thrusting mindlessly now. His semen-covered hand pressed against Spike's belly, slipping and sliding over the hairless skin as he jerked his hips back and forth arhythmically, his balls slapping against the lower curve of Spike's ass. "Ye're... mine..." he muttered again, thrusting one last time before shoving all the way inside and releasing a torrent of cum into the condom.
Angel pulled out, then thrust two fingers inside Spike, massaging his inner muscles as they tensed and spasmed. He slipped off the used condom, kissing Spike's ear, then withdrew altogether.
Spike remained at the bars, holding them tight until he was confident that he could walk without his knees buckling. He stumbled over to the sink and cleaned up. "That was hot," he rasped, his voice gritty and rough. He bent down and pulled his pants back on, buckling them up.
"Mmm," Angel replied. "I think I might've devolved to a caveman fer a moment there." He swabbed at his semisoft cock with the edge of a towel, then fastened his own pants.
"I didn't mind," the blond said, walking to the bed and flopping down. Paper crinkled beneath him. "Oh," he said. "My letter." He pulled it out from under himself and tore it open, scanning it. His face paled.
"What is it?" the Irishman asked, returning to the bed as well. He tried to peer over Spike's shoulder at the letter, but Spike folded it and jammed it back in the envelope.
"It's Buffy," Spike said.
"Yer fiancée?"
He nodded. "She's coming to pay a conjugal visit."
Author: Magz
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Angel/Spike, Spike/Andrew, brief mentions of Forrest/Fem!Jonathan, Adam/Andrew, Wood/Xander, & Gunn/Scott Hope.
Summary: Violently cracktastic porn AU. Spike's a computer hacker who's just received a ten-year prison sentence. He's taken under the wing of Angel, who agrees to protect him from the bigger and stronger inmates than himself in exchange for sex. It's like every prison porn movie ever made. Only with more sex.
Warnings: Wildly OOC, rape/attempted, character bashing, violence, mild BDSM, gratuitous use of sparkly pink butt plugs, feminization of a male character
Prologue · 1 · 2 · 3 · 4 · 5 · 6
SEVEN -- THERE WAS A BOY
"Ungh... hungh... gnagh..."
"What'd ye like fer Christmas?"
"I... ugh... I don't know, really," Spike panted, sweat beading on his skin. His muscles tensed and relaxed as he continued his repetitive movements. "Why... hunh... why do you ask?"
"Don't rightly know," Angel replied. "Was thinkin maybe... might get you somethin'."
"One ninety-nine... two hundred." After his last sit-up, the blond scooted back and leaned against the side of the bed. He turned and glanced over at his cellmate. "Chocolate," he said.
Angel splashed water on his face one last time and set his razor and shaving cream aside, then picked up a towel and patted his face dry. He took a second towel back to the bed. "Chocolate?" he asked, draping the terrycloth over Spike's shoulders and touching his head once, slowly, in passing. "Ye sure that nothin' more... substantial... strikes yer fancy?"
"I haven't had chocolate since before I was arrested," Spike said as he dried himself off and tugged his sweat-dampened undershirt over his head. "Got everything else on the outside." When he was suitably dry, he stood up and flopped back on the bed with a soft grunt. Then he rolled onto his side and curled around Angel's hip, walking his fingers up the Irishman's arm. "What do you want for Christmas?"
"Oh," Angel said. "Ye don't have to..."
"Liam Angelus Killarney, if I want to buy you a prezzie, I'm gonna buy it. Stop pretendin' like you don't want it." Spike looked up at him and winked. "Now tell me what you'd like."
"Besides yer autobiography, ye mean?" Angel nudged Spike off to the side and lay down, tugging the blond atop him. "Could use some new paper an' mayhap a bit of charcoal." He draped an arm around Spike's waist. "Don't need t' go to any trouble, though."
"It's no trouble," Spike replied, shaking his head. He propped his chin up on the dark-haired man's chest. "My autobiography, eh?"
Angel nodded. "Only if ye'd like to tell me," he said.
Spike tilted his head, pondering it for a moment. "Once upon a time, there was a chap named William. He was quite popular an' good lookin'..."
Ten Years Before...
"Mister Prescott, are you paying attention?"
The sixteen-year-old boy with sandy hair, pimples, and Coke-bottle glasses, shifted in his seat and snored softly.
"Mister Prescott," the teacher asked again, approaching the student's desk as the class looked on. He leaned in close to the sleeping boy's head. "William!" he shouted.
"What? What?" William asked, sitting up with a jolt and straightening his spectacles, which had been resting askew on his nose. "Oliver Cromwell," he muttered reflexively.
The class tittered in amusement.
"That's excellent, Mister Prescott, but this is human biology, and we're currently discussing the digestive system. Would you care to tell me what the function of the appendix is?" The teacher returned to the front of the room and leaned against his desk.
William fumbled for an answer for a moment, his cheeks suffusing with color as embarrassment flooded him. "The, ah... the appendix, sir?" he stuttered. "The appendix has... has no true function in the, ah, the modern human. But some scientists believe that it provided a means to - to digest bone, in the... in prehistoric times." He sank down in his seat and tried to hide his face with his books.
Two girls in the back row of the class room watched William with undisguised interest. They leaned in and whispered to each other, nodding and smiling, then returned their attention to the teacher before he noticed and called on them. They were the most popular girls in the school, and they were going to make William live up to his full potential. Why? Because they had the power in the school, and they could do it.
After school, the same two girls caught up with William as he was leaving the building. He had no idea what was in store for him.
Present Day
"Wait, so ye're tellin' me that ye never once worried about havin' a spotty face, or bad breath, an' that the ladies flocked all over you?" Angel asked, rolling them so his legs tangled with the smaller man's and he hovered over him. "I'm havin' trouble believin' ye." He looked into Spike's eyes. "Ye can tell me th' truth if ye'd like. Won't leave the room, I promise ye."
Spike rolled his eyes and sighed. "Ruin my fun," he muttered. "I was unpopular, had horrible acne, an' couldn't see for shit. Happy?"
Angel smiled down at him. "Ecstatic, mo rún," he corrected, kissing him once, twice, then pulling away so Spike could continue his story.
"One day, two of the beautiful chits in the school stopped me on my way out th' door. Told me they'd make me a god - like them." Spike's gaze grew distant and hazy. "They were right."
Ten Years Before
"You sure I need to wear all of... this?" William asked, looking down at himself, then in the mirror. He raised an eyebrow when he noted the black eyeliner that'd been carefully applied, then up to his hair, bleached blond with a touch of glitter. His eyes fell on his ensemble again. "You can see m'nipples. It's indecent."
One of the girls in the room with him fussed over the hem of his shirt, straightening it and closing a safety pin that had come undone. "You look gorgeous. Now sneer for Lilah so she can put on the rest of your makeup."
William rolled his eyes and sighed, then puckered up as the other girl applied a thin coat of lip color. "I don't hee hi I haf huh do hisch," he said around the lip brush. He waited until Lilah was through with the lip rouge, then moved his mouth around, feeling weird with his lips covered in the cosmetic. "Can't I just go to school wearin' what I normally wear?"
"Please, Will, look at yourself. Nobody will be able to resist you," the other girl, Faith, proclaimed. She tossed her dark brown locks over one shoulder and picked at his shirt again. "And who knew you were hiding such a... delicious body under all those baggy clothes?"
"Finishing touch," Lilah said, handing a white contacts box to William. "Put these in, love." She ran a hand over William's smooth, pimple-free cheek, and smiled, knowing her hard work with Clearsil and Oxy had paid off. "You're a whole new man. Nothing's ever gonna be the same for you again."
"You'll fuck a different girl every weekend," Faith said, running a hand up Spike's thigh and cupping his groin briefly. "If that's your thing." She quirked an eyebrow and winked knowingly, causing William to furrow his brow in confusion. "You're going to be the hottest thing our school has ever seen. We've made you a new man. But... you still need a new name."
"Spike," Lilah said suddenly. "What do you think, Faith?" Lilah combed a hand through Faith's hair and kissed her quickly on the lips, then trailed a finger down William's chest. "It's sexy, it's not too long..."
"Spike," Faith said, brushing Lilah's shoulder-length hair out of the way and then licking her earlobe before leaning over and doing the same to William. "It's perfect."
And so William became a memory.
Spike upheld his girls' expectations to the last detail. He slept with so many different girls, that he lost count after a few months. And when Lilah and Faith saw him off in the airport as he was leaving for college in the US, by dragging him into the bathroom and fucking his brains out, Spike finally believed he was sexy.
Present Day
Spike was still a bit glazed over, and his breath came in soft pants. Angel frowned, then rested a forearm on either side of his head and kissed him hard, determined to take his mind off the airport threesome.
Five Years Before
"Fuck, that party was..."
"I know. Best part was when - "
"Alan got up on th' table an' started dancin' around."
"No, no, when he fell off, after."
Spike stumbled down the hallway of his college dorm, his arm around the shoulders of his roommate, Wesley. He tossed his half-empty beer cup in the nearest trash can, then leaned heavily on the other man. "C'n you believe we're gonna be done next week?" he slurred.
"Seems like only yesterday," Wes agreed. "Are you gonna go to Kim's room?"
Spike shook his head at the mention of his girlfriend's name. "She's studyin' for finals," he said. "Luckily, I'm all done, which means I get to spend some quality time with... you. M'best mate."
Wes smiled a little, then shouted as he tripped over an invisible bump in the floor and nearly falling down.
Spike somehow managed to catch his friend around the waist and haul him back up. "Watch out, mate," he said, squinting to focus on the doors as they slowly made their way through the building. "Two-ten, two-twelve... what room are we again?"
"Same one we've been in since first year," Wes said, looking over at Spike and covering his mouth as he belched. "Though I'm having a bit of trouble remembering which that is."
"Two-fourteen..." Spike read, his hand going for the doorknob as he swayed slightly. "Here we are." He opened the door, blinking a few times as he noticed that all his and Wes' stuff had been replaced with very feminine things. His eyes fell on a pair of co-eds gyrating on the bed, the sheets around their waists, then turned back to Wes. "Wrong room," he said, gesturing at the couple.
"Two-sixteen!" Wes exclaimed loudly.
The couple on the bed stopped grinding together for a moment, and the guy turned long enough to grunt, "Fuck off, dickheads," before turning back to his girlfriend and screwing her senseless.
Spike backed slowly out of the room and closed the door, then walked a few steps further down the hall, to their room, a wide grin on his face. "You really missed out, not takin' it," he said to Wes as his roommate looked through his pockets for his keys.
Wesley shook his head and patted his hips, then his back pockets. "Told you, Spike, the last thing I need... a week before graduation is to start taking E again. Do you have your keys?"
The bleached-blond spread his arms wide and leaned against the door. "Search me," he said, looking Wes over. "Why're you always th' graceful drunk, anyway?"
"Gimme your keys," Wes said. "Can't get in without them."
"I said, search me," Spike replied. "Too drunk to look for keys."
"Too high, you mean," the other man corrected, stumbling slightly as he approached Spike. "I'm drunker than you are."
"Are not," Spike countered, sticking his tongue out childishly.
Wes followed the movement of Spike's tongue over full, pink lips, his eyes glazing slightly. "Just don't cry 'rape'," he warned, stepping up to his roommate and starting to pat him down.
He wormed his index fingers into Spike's front pockets, then slid his hands around to the back, patting a few times and feeling a key-shaped lump over his roommate's left ass cheek. "Found it," he stated, wiggling his fingers into Spike's back pocket and nearly moaning aloud at the feel of the denim-covered mound that he was palming. For a brief moment, he wondered what would happen if he came out to his roommate. Then he shook his head, gripped Spike's key and tugged it out, and slid it into the lock.
The door swung abruptly open.
Spike grabbed Wes' shirtfront as he tumbled backwards, hitting the carpet with a thud and a soft grunt. Wes sprawled out on top of him. Spike squirmed underneath his roommate as he regained control of his breathing. Something hard was poking him in the thigh. "Wes, mate? You're uh..."
Wes lifted up a bit, levering himself up with his forearms. His crotch rubbed against Spike's. "Uh... yeah," he mumbled, getting to his feet and closing the door.
"So am I," Spike said.
Present Day
"I thought ye'd never -- "
"I didn't cum," Spike interjected. "Was too high, or drunk, or maybe just plain scared to shoot. Had to toss off after."
Angel raised himself up so he could look down at his bedmate. "Ye mean 'e didn't even have th' decency to suck ye off?"
"He did," Spike said shortly, hoping the subject would change before he asked Angel why he'd never received a blowjob from him. "We graduated the next week, an' I never saw him again. He hadn't meant t' come out like that, an' I hadn't meant to help him. Morning after was... somethin' else."
"Everyone's fucked someone that they didn't intend to," Angel said. "For me, it was my best friend's brother, when I was in th' eleventh grade. His parents found out, an' they moved to Belfast. Last I heard, Pete -- that's my friend -- owned a store in Belfast, an' his brother'd settled down with another guy a few years older than 'im."
"Why didn't you follow him?" the blond asked.
"He left," the Irishman replied. "Mayhap, if I'd loved 'im, but it was just a casual fuck fer th' both of us."
"Hmm," Spike said, sliding his hands up Angel's back. He shifted underneath his cellmate, noticing the effect that their conversation was having on both of them. "I heard that they do blood tests in th' infirmary. Was thinking maybe we could get tested... been curious as to what it'd be like..."
"Without a condom?" Angel finished.
Spike nodded.
"It's like nothin' ye've ever felt before, mo rún. If this is somethin' ye really want t' feel, then we'll get tested, yeah?"
"I want to feel it," Spike replied. "Let's do it."
Angel smiled, releasing a little breath through his nose as he reached out and touched Spike's face. "C'mere."
The blond raised his head, cupping the back of Angel's, and kissed him. His other hand slid up one of Angel's arms and rested on his shoulder, kneading the muscles there as their lips parted and their tongues met. Spreading his thighs slightly so the Irishman could slip a knee between them, he pressed up against Angel, rubbing their groins together.
The loud clearing of a throat caused them to pull back with disappointed groans. They turned their heads toward the cell door, where Riley was standing holding a letter. "Prescott," he said. "I've got a letter for you."
Reluctantly, Angel rolled off the blond and stood to let him up.
Spike got to his feet and headed over to the front of the cell, taking the envelope from the guard, who turned and returned to his post. The handwriting caused Spike to tense and he cleared his throat.
The Irishman saw his cellmate's body stiffen and went to his side, placing a hand on the small of his back and running his thumb over Spike's tattoo. "Everythin' alright?" he asked.
The blond didn't get a chance to answer.
"Spike," Luke called from across the block. "I couldn't help but overhear that you're planning on getting a blood test done. Why don't you let me know when the results are in? I'd enjoy being the first to have you raw."
"Your dick isn't ever goin' anywhere near my ass, you hideous landmass," Spike called back with more confidence than he felt. He fingered his letter for a moment, until a low rumbling noise caused him to whip his head to the side to look at Angel. "Did you just growl?" he asked.
Angel's response was to snatch the letter from Spike's hand, toss it aside, then pin the smaller man to the bars of the cell and attack his throat with vicious, biting kisses. His right arm wrapped around the blond's waist while his left hand shoved at the waistband of his pants, finally unbuttoning them and groping the naked flesh beneath them.
Spike gasped, clutching at the bars and tilting his head back, his eyes closing as white-hot pleasure danced through him. Angel had never shown his possessive side before, and as the dark-haired man's teeth scraped lightly down the inside of his arm to catch the pulse point at his wrist in a sucking kiss, he decided he'd make him jealous more often. "Fuck," he grunted as Angel roughly palmed his ass.
The dark-haired man pushed Spike's pants and boxers down further, catching them with his foot and pulling them off one leg altogether. He kicked Spike's legs apart and mouthed each protruding vertebra hotly as he made his way down the blond's spine, tongue swirling and teeth nipping as he grew closer and closer to his destination. "Hold the bars tight," he rasped, spreading Spike's ass cheeks and licking down between them. He pressed on either side of the little hole with his thumbs, watching as it opened for him, then thrust his tongue against it roughly.
"Christ, Angel," Spike groaned, arching his back and hissing in pleasure when his hot, hard cock brushed against the cool metal of the cell bars. His knees buckled, his knuckles turning white with his grip on the bars when Angel's tongue pushed up and inside him, spearing his hole over and over again with fast strokes.
Angel's tongue withdrew, lapping and chewing at the widening sphincter, before plunging inside again and gathering the musky taste of Spike. He moaned against Spike's ass, causing the blond to tremble. One of his hands flew to his waistband, unfastening his pants. He shoved them down, below his ass, and continued to drive Spike wild.
"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," Spike chanted mindlessly as he heard the snap of a condom being rolled into place. He pressed his ass back against Angel's face, needing more. His pucker clenched and relaxed spasmodically as Angel pushed more of his saliva inside, getting him wet and ready. "Please, Angel..."
He whimpered when Angel pulled his mouth away.
The whimper turned into a raspy scream of pleasure as Angel got to his feet, pulled Spike's ass back against him, and shoved his cock inside to the hilt in one stroke. Without waiting for Spike to adjust, Angel began a hard, fast rhythm, his hips snapping against the blond's ass. He returned his attention to Spike's throat, sucking and licking, marking him.
Spike threw his head back against Angel's shoulder, moaning and panting, his body heaving with lust. He found his cock with one hand, starting to stroke it, but Angel slapped his hand away and replaced it with his own. The blond's hand returned to the bars, gripping them tightly as Angel fucked him with thrusts so hard that his entire body jerked every time.
Angel raised his head, finding Luke with a deadly glare. "Ye're mine," he murmured in Spike's ear. "He'll... never... touch you." He offered Luke a two-fingered salute, then sucked down on Spike's throat and started pulling on his cock faster. "Nobody... else." Angel didn't know if he meant Luke, or if he meant Spike's one-night stand in college. All he knew was that he was going to fuck Spike so hard he'd never, never think about fucking another man.
The blond shuddered and groaned as he entered sensory overload from Angel's words. "Fuck fuck fuck," he gasped, arching his back and writhing in Angel's grip. The possessiveness of his cell mate drove him wild. The new angle of Angel's cock inside him as they shifted, drove him over the edge. "Angel!" he rasped, trembling as he shot into the Irishman's hand.
The dark-haired man caught Spike's hot cum in his palm, thrusting mindlessly now. His semen-covered hand pressed against Spike's belly, slipping and sliding over the hairless skin as he jerked his hips back and forth arhythmically, his balls slapping against the lower curve of Spike's ass. "Ye're... mine..." he muttered again, thrusting one last time before shoving all the way inside and releasing a torrent of cum into the condom.
Angel pulled out, then thrust two fingers inside Spike, massaging his inner muscles as they tensed and spasmed. He slipped off the used condom, kissing Spike's ear, then withdrew altogether.
Spike remained at the bars, holding them tight until he was confident that he could walk without his knees buckling. He stumbled over to the sink and cleaned up. "That was hot," he rasped, his voice gritty and rough. He bent down and pulled his pants back on, buckling them up.
"Mmm," Angel replied. "I think I might've devolved to a caveman fer a moment there." He swabbed at his semisoft cock with the edge of a towel, then fastened his own pants.
"I didn't mind," the blond said, walking to the bed and flopping down. Paper crinkled beneath him. "Oh," he said. "My letter." He pulled it out from under himself and tore it open, scanning it. His face paled.
"What is it?" the Irishman asked, returning to the bed as well. He tried to peer over Spike's shoulder at the letter, but Spike folded it and jammed it back in the envelope.
"It's Buffy," Spike said.
"Yer fiancée?"
He nodded. "She's coming to pay a conjugal visit."