Home, Spangel human AU (4/4) - complete!
ETA: I was going to say, it's been pointed out to me that legal age to tend bar is 21 in California (*waves to mistress_tien*) but let's pretend he's doing something legal, hmm? it's 18 here, I didn't even think to check.
Title: Home (4/4)
Author: Mel (thatotherperv formerly btvslover82)
Pairing: Spangel
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Angel and Spike grew up together in the foster care system.
Warnings: One brief moment of underage boy-part touching, but the majority of the fic occurs when they’re both of-age. A wee bit of schmoop. And the boys were raised in the same foster home, so I suppose if you have a sensitive incest squick, it might trigger it. but their brother-like relationship really isn’t emphasized any more than is necessary.
Disclaimer: not mine, but aren’t they pretty?
previous parts here
Part 4
Will didn’t come home that night, or the next, or the next, or the one after that. At first, Angel brushed it off as Spike needing space to lick his wounds…he’d always been that way. He didn’t blame him. Spike would come home when he was ready and they would talk and everything would be fine. Angel would apologize, obviously. He had no idea Will would take it that way.
-Ok, now that he thought about it, there weren’t many other ways to take it. It was a horribly insulting thing to imply. But….
The longer Will was gone, the sicker Angel felt. By the third day, he’d stopped going to class. He called in sick for work. He wasn’t sleeping. Spike’s high school wouldn’t give him any information, because he wasn’t family. Hanging around the building like a child predator didn’t seem to be the best way to do anything but get himself arrested. He started calling bars, but gave up after number 22. It was LA, there were a million bars. Without a clue as to what area of town, much less which establishment, it was useless.
On day seven, Angel filed a missing persons report, but he had no illusions that resources would be spent locating an adult male in perfect health who hadn’t checked in with his roommate lately.
And anyway, it turned out to be unnecessary. The next morning when Angel woke up, Spike was home.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Angel’s heart thudded dully when he saw the trail of Spike’s clothing strewn down the hall-duster, shirt, belt…ending in two motorcycle boots kicked off at the threshold to Lindsey’s old room. When he quietly pushed the door farther ajar, the light from the hallway fell across Will, collapsed face-down on top of the covers in his jeans, one sock dangling off the foot that hadn’t quite made it onto the bed with the rest of him.
Angel would have laughed if he could have squeezed anything past the lump in his throat. He didn’t even care about the strong stench of beer permeating the room. He was just so relieved that Will was there. Alive and well.
He didn’t stir when Angel sat down on the edge of the bed. He used to sleep just like this as a little boy, dead to the world and sprawled out like he owned the place, even when it meant kicking Angel in the kidneys in the process. And he looked young, just now. His face was slack and his hair was a mess, and his hand was curled loosely near his face.
Angel felt another squeeze of relief as he reached out and combed Spike’s over-processed hair back from his face.
At the touch, Spike startled awake with a sharp inhale. He blinked groggily, offering Angel a small, disoriented smile and quickly grimacing at the taste in his mouth. Angel could pinpoint the exact moment when he remembered their parting argument.
He shifted away from Angel and rolled over onto his back, scrubbing a hand over his face. He grimaced again at the light from the hall.
“Don’t worry, won’t stay long.” His voice was gruff with his hangover. “My so-called mate kicked me out of his place…just needed a place to sleep for the night.”
Angel hesitated, trying to avoid sticking his foot in his mouth again. Finally he settled on something neutral enough. And true, he realized. “You’re always welcome here.”
Spike gave him a snide look that said, Yeah, sure…right.
“I was an asshole.” Spike snorted and covered his aching eyes with his hand, shielding them from the light. Angel pulled it away, making Spike look at him. “I’m serious.”
Spike’s expression was stony and impassive. “I know. You were seriously an asshole.”
“I just thought….”
“That I was incapable of doing anything but fucking up.”
“No!” Yes. “I just…it seemed weird that you suddenly had all this money.”
Spike scoffed. “Never occurred to you that I might have gotten a job.”
“…Not really.”
“Never occurred to you to ask me where the money had come from.”
“You would have just lied about it.”
“Yeah, suppose I would have, if it was ill-gotten. But since when have I been able to lie to you and get away with it? Blood annoying, that. Like a human polygraph.”
Angel’s mouth twitched upwards a bit. “That, or you’re a really bad liar.”
He received a scowl, and two very rude fingers. He smiled some more.
“I’m sorry. You’re right. I should have asked.”
There was a grudging pause before Spike squinted up at him. “You’re sorry and I’m right. We’d best start praying now, luv, because the apocalypse is nigh.”
Angel shoved at him irritably, secretly glad that Spike was smiling, even if it was to annoy the shit out of him. “I’m serious!”
“Yeah, you usually are.”
Neither one of them acknowledged that Spike had retained Angel’s shoving hand and was now sort of…holding it.
“Know I haven’t exactly been responsible, in the past-” Angel snorted at the understatement. “Oi! Just because you foolishly squandered your youth on tax forms and textbooks doesn’t mean everyone’s meant to.”
“It’s not foolish-”
“What I’m saying,” Spike soothed, “is that you would do well to trust me a bit. Or you’re going to fret yourself into the nuthouse.”
“It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just-”
Spike looked distinctly exasperated just before he pulled Angel down onto the bed and rolled them, settling his weight onto Angel. Angel, for his part, was momentarily distracted by the press of their hips.
“It’s just that you don’t trust me. Look, if I’d wanted to go on as I had before, there were plenty of other blokes lining up to shag me that would have been a hell of a lot more fun. ‘Stead I came here to be nagged onto the straight and narrow by His Majesty, Self-sacrificing King of Pain.”
It was difficult to be offended, he realized, at words that were murmured close against your ear, punctuated by teeth and tongue latching onto pliable cartilage while slim hips undulated against your own. Difficult…maybe even impossible. Angel’s mind went all blank and gooey.
“Thing is…wouldn’t it be nice to have someone take care of you every once in a while?”
The nimble hand massaging his cock through his sweats made a startlingly convincing case while Spike rubbed himself against his hip. Angel groaned as fingers slipped under the waistband to take hold of him in a bare palm. He was pretty sure they were supposed to be talking about something.
Spike gave a small laugh against his throat. “So we’re agreed, then?”
Angel knew from experience that agreeing with Spike blindly was a very bad thing, but it was hard to concentrate with a moist, sucking mouth trailing down his torso…impossible when it mouthed along his shaft through the thick material, teeth scraping out a light tease.
“Yeah?”
The light in the room was dim, but Angel could still make out the light eyes that questioned him as his sweats were peeled over his hips. They ticked upwards at the warm breath on bare skin.
Angel had no idea what he was agreeing to…but it didn’t really matter, because this was Spike, and “Yeah.”
The smile he got for that was one that Angel would have called sweet when Spike was a little boy. Then Spike’s mouth was on-over-around his cock, and all thoughts of their childhood were gone.
Angel didn’t close his eyes. Spike had one hand tucked beneath his waist, and Angel absently stroked his arm and shoulder as he watched him tease and lave. Angel’s belly was already moving rapidly with excited breath by the time Spike crooked his leg for him and smoothly pressed one slick finger inside.
The massage against his prostate made him arch up. It made him want more than the tease of a blowjob Spike was giving him, but when his hand tangled into Spike’s hair to encourage him, harder, faster, more, it was lifted away and placed back on his own stomach.
“What did we say, hmm?” Spike’s breath shuddered over his wet shaft with a laugh, finger glancing over his nerves again, and Angel felt the strong urge to whine.
“Spike-”
“Angel,” Spike teased.
More lube was applied from a tube Angel hadn’t realized Spike had, and then two fingers were entering him. It felt like a stretch, uncomfortable and tight, but Spike was being careful-careful in a way he’d never seen Spike be-and soon there was pleasure again. A hot mouth and sparks sounding off deep inside, and his hips were moving in tight little thrusting circles against the hold Spike had on them.
There was the periodic burn as Spike moved inside him, and kisses brushed against his thighs and belly, and Spike’s pupils were wide and black.
And now when he spoke, his voice was rough with more than just his hangover. “Wanna roll over for me, luv?”
Angel froze up, suddenly realizing what agreement he’d missed, and Spike stopped moving. After another moment, Spike slipped his fingers free and he sat up, hands resting lightly on Angel’s thighs.
“Pet?”
He’d never bottomed before. Never even thought about it, and it never would have occurred to him that Spike would be the one….
It surprised him when the flashing images put a hot tingling buzz low in his stomach.
Angel didn’t realize just how long of a silence there had been until Spike’s expression grew resigned and he began to move away.
“Wait.” Angel grabbed Spike’s wrist to keep him from leaving, but he was backlit by the light from the hallway now and it was difficult to make out his features. Feeling self-conscious and naked (which he was, but…yeah, the other kind of naked. Really, really naked and nervous, and maybe just a little bit nauseous), he rolled onto his stomach.
He was holding his breath when the bed shifted and a light hand stroked down his back, and lips pressed against the tattoo he’d gotten in a fit of stupidity on his 18th birthday.
It had been Spike’s idea. Of course it had.
He was almost too tense for Spike’s fingers when they probed again at his hole, but there was steady pressure and a hand stroking over his lower back and a few murmured endearments…and eventually the tension eased away.
(“’M not gonna hurt you, you silly sod, so unclench a bit, there’s a darling.”)
Spike made him laugh, and made him gasp, and eventually made him bite his lip as he pressed the head of his cock against Angel’s hole and carefully pushed inside.
When Angel tried to push himself up, to push back, to participate, a hand between his shoulder blades put him back flat against the bed, and then Spike’s weight settled over his back. Warm skin to warm skin.
“Told you, didn’t I?”
The light reprimand ended as Spike withdrew and thrust back inside. It made Angel moan and arch his back-felt good, even though it was uncomfortable at first, even though it was odd to lay there, completely powerless in this position to do anything other than absorb the slow-fast slam of Spike’s hips into his own and claw at the sheets that smelled like Spike.
Spike’s breath was hot and shaky against the back of Angel’s neck, and Angel felt oddly enveloped by him…by the bracing arms and the chest tightly pressed to his back and the thighs hugging the outsides of his own.
“Fuck. Pet.” Lips were pressed to the back of his sweaty neck…then scraping teeth that made him shudder. “Good, yeah?”
Angel nodded, and Spike pushed up to kneel behind him, shifting him onto his knees as he began to plow harder into Angel from behind. Now Angel could push back against him, mind full of white static as he grunted on each impact.
He knew he flushed bright red when Spike murmured, “That’s right, luv, fuck yourself on my cock. God, you’ve got a pretty arse.”
But he did it anyway.
He was so close. He could feel the tell-tale tingle at the base of his spine, and Spike’s breath was hitching and heavy in that now-familiar cadence. Once Spike took hold of his erection and started pumping him, it was only a matter of time before, one after the other, they both stiffened and shuddered as they came.
It was somewhat soothing to Angel’s ego that afterwards, Spike lay sprawled under his possessive arm, looking sated and sleepy as a kitten who’d glutted itself on cream. Though he was pretty sure any comparisons between Spike and a kitten out loud meant he wouldn’t get laid for a very long time, so he kept his mouth shut.
Spike grinned at him smugly. “See what good things happen when you let me drive for a change?” At the exaggerated eyebrow waggle, Angel laughed and kissed him. And then Spike kissed him. And then he kissed back….
And Spike still had hangover breath, so that just proved he loved him.
Huh. Apparently…he did.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
Their faces were lying close together on the pillow. Spike smiled. “Yeah, you’re a bit of alright too, you big berk.”
“Listen, about next year-”
Spike looked away, suddenly irritated. He blew an exasperated breath towards the ceiling. “I registered for community college, are you happy now? Dunno what the bloody hell I’m paying them for, but….”
When he gave him a dirty look as if education were a plague, Angel couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah. That does make me happy, actually. But I was just going to say you need to keep your clothes on when Kat comes to live with us.”
Spike blinked at him for a moment before his mouth curved up, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Course, we’ll have to get a better lock on the door to the bedroom, because every coed from here to San Diego is going to want to watch me shag you senseless.”
“Spike….”
“No, ‘s true. Might want to soundproof the place as well, unless you want them to hear you beggin’ me, ‘give it to me harder, Spike. Christ, what a big cock you have, Spike.’”
Angel had found, through trial and error, that the best way to shut Spike up was to put something in his mouth. In this case, his tongue.
When he pulled back this time, Spike was practically purring. Definitely not talking, which was good. Except….
“Spike?”
“Mm. Yeah, luv.”
“Promise me something.”
“What’s that?”
“From now on, you brush your teeth before we make out. And use mouthwash, while you’re at it.”
Because really…he didn’t love him that much.
ok, folks, I hope you enjoyed this! that's it for me. I think i might snag another day later in the season but we'll see if I can come up with anything I want to write first. can't wait to see what everyone comes up with!
thanks!
Title: Home (4/4)
Author: Mel (thatotherperv formerly btvslover82)
Pairing: Spangel
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Angel and Spike grew up together in the foster care system.
Warnings: One brief moment of underage boy-part touching, but the majority of the fic occurs when they’re both of-age. A wee bit of schmoop. And the boys were raised in the same foster home, so I suppose if you have a sensitive incest squick, it might trigger it. but their brother-like relationship really isn’t emphasized any more than is necessary.
Disclaimer: not mine, but aren’t they pretty?
previous parts here
Part 4
Will didn’t come home that night, or the next, or the next, or the one after that. At first, Angel brushed it off as Spike needing space to lick his wounds…he’d always been that way. He didn’t blame him. Spike would come home when he was ready and they would talk and everything would be fine. Angel would apologize, obviously. He had no idea Will would take it that way.
-Ok, now that he thought about it, there weren’t many other ways to take it. It was a horribly insulting thing to imply. But….
The longer Will was gone, the sicker Angel felt. By the third day, he’d stopped going to class. He called in sick for work. He wasn’t sleeping. Spike’s high school wouldn’t give him any information, because he wasn’t family. Hanging around the building like a child predator didn’t seem to be the best way to do anything but get himself arrested. He started calling bars, but gave up after number 22. It was LA, there were a million bars. Without a clue as to what area of town, much less which establishment, it was useless.
On day seven, Angel filed a missing persons report, but he had no illusions that resources would be spent locating an adult male in perfect health who hadn’t checked in with his roommate lately.
And anyway, it turned out to be unnecessary. The next morning when Angel woke up, Spike was home.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Angel’s heart thudded dully when he saw the trail of Spike’s clothing strewn down the hall-duster, shirt, belt…ending in two motorcycle boots kicked off at the threshold to Lindsey’s old room. When he quietly pushed the door farther ajar, the light from the hallway fell across Will, collapsed face-down on top of the covers in his jeans, one sock dangling off the foot that hadn’t quite made it onto the bed with the rest of him.
Angel would have laughed if he could have squeezed anything past the lump in his throat. He didn’t even care about the strong stench of beer permeating the room. He was just so relieved that Will was there. Alive and well.
He didn’t stir when Angel sat down on the edge of the bed. He used to sleep just like this as a little boy, dead to the world and sprawled out like he owned the place, even when it meant kicking Angel in the kidneys in the process. And he looked young, just now. His face was slack and his hair was a mess, and his hand was curled loosely near his face.
Angel felt another squeeze of relief as he reached out and combed Spike’s over-processed hair back from his face.
At the touch, Spike startled awake with a sharp inhale. He blinked groggily, offering Angel a small, disoriented smile and quickly grimacing at the taste in his mouth. Angel could pinpoint the exact moment when he remembered their parting argument.
He shifted away from Angel and rolled over onto his back, scrubbing a hand over his face. He grimaced again at the light from the hall.
“Don’t worry, won’t stay long.” His voice was gruff with his hangover. “My so-called mate kicked me out of his place…just needed a place to sleep for the night.”
Angel hesitated, trying to avoid sticking his foot in his mouth again. Finally he settled on something neutral enough. And true, he realized. “You’re always welcome here.”
Spike gave him a snide look that said, Yeah, sure…right.
“I was an asshole.” Spike snorted and covered his aching eyes with his hand, shielding them from the light. Angel pulled it away, making Spike look at him. “I’m serious.”
Spike’s expression was stony and impassive. “I know. You were seriously an asshole.”
“I just thought….”
“That I was incapable of doing anything but fucking up.”
“No!” Yes. “I just…it seemed weird that you suddenly had all this money.”
Spike scoffed. “Never occurred to you that I might have gotten a job.”
“…Not really.”
“Never occurred to you to ask me where the money had come from.”
“You would have just lied about it.”
“Yeah, suppose I would have, if it was ill-gotten. But since when have I been able to lie to you and get away with it? Blood annoying, that. Like a human polygraph.”
Angel’s mouth twitched upwards a bit. “That, or you’re a really bad liar.”
He received a scowl, and two very rude fingers. He smiled some more.
“I’m sorry. You’re right. I should have asked.”
There was a grudging pause before Spike squinted up at him. “You’re sorry and I’m right. We’d best start praying now, luv, because the apocalypse is nigh.”
Angel shoved at him irritably, secretly glad that Spike was smiling, even if it was to annoy the shit out of him. “I’m serious!”
“Yeah, you usually are.”
Neither one of them acknowledged that Spike had retained Angel’s shoving hand and was now sort of…holding it.
“Know I haven’t exactly been responsible, in the past-” Angel snorted at the understatement. “Oi! Just because you foolishly squandered your youth on tax forms and textbooks doesn’t mean everyone’s meant to.”
“It’s not foolish-”
“What I’m saying,” Spike soothed, “is that you would do well to trust me a bit. Or you’re going to fret yourself into the nuthouse.”
“It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just-”
Spike looked distinctly exasperated just before he pulled Angel down onto the bed and rolled them, settling his weight onto Angel. Angel, for his part, was momentarily distracted by the press of their hips.
“It’s just that you don’t trust me. Look, if I’d wanted to go on as I had before, there were plenty of other blokes lining up to shag me that would have been a hell of a lot more fun. ‘Stead I came here to be nagged onto the straight and narrow by His Majesty, Self-sacrificing King of Pain.”
It was difficult to be offended, he realized, at words that were murmured close against your ear, punctuated by teeth and tongue latching onto pliable cartilage while slim hips undulated against your own. Difficult…maybe even impossible. Angel’s mind went all blank and gooey.
“Thing is…wouldn’t it be nice to have someone take care of you every once in a while?”
The nimble hand massaging his cock through his sweats made a startlingly convincing case while Spike rubbed himself against his hip. Angel groaned as fingers slipped under the waistband to take hold of him in a bare palm. He was pretty sure they were supposed to be talking about something.
Spike gave a small laugh against his throat. “So we’re agreed, then?”
Angel knew from experience that agreeing with Spike blindly was a very bad thing, but it was hard to concentrate with a moist, sucking mouth trailing down his torso…impossible when it mouthed along his shaft through the thick material, teeth scraping out a light tease.
“Yeah?”
The light in the room was dim, but Angel could still make out the light eyes that questioned him as his sweats were peeled over his hips. They ticked upwards at the warm breath on bare skin.
Angel had no idea what he was agreeing to…but it didn’t really matter, because this was Spike, and “Yeah.”
The smile he got for that was one that Angel would have called sweet when Spike was a little boy. Then Spike’s mouth was on-over-around his cock, and all thoughts of their childhood were gone.
Angel didn’t close his eyes. Spike had one hand tucked beneath his waist, and Angel absently stroked his arm and shoulder as he watched him tease and lave. Angel’s belly was already moving rapidly with excited breath by the time Spike crooked his leg for him and smoothly pressed one slick finger inside.
The massage against his prostate made him arch up. It made him want more than the tease of a blowjob Spike was giving him, but when his hand tangled into Spike’s hair to encourage him, harder, faster, more, it was lifted away and placed back on his own stomach.
“What did we say, hmm?” Spike’s breath shuddered over his wet shaft with a laugh, finger glancing over his nerves again, and Angel felt the strong urge to whine.
“Spike-”
“Angel,” Spike teased.
More lube was applied from a tube Angel hadn’t realized Spike had, and then two fingers were entering him. It felt like a stretch, uncomfortable and tight, but Spike was being careful-careful in a way he’d never seen Spike be-and soon there was pleasure again. A hot mouth and sparks sounding off deep inside, and his hips were moving in tight little thrusting circles against the hold Spike had on them.
There was the periodic burn as Spike moved inside him, and kisses brushed against his thighs and belly, and Spike’s pupils were wide and black.
And now when he spoke, his voice was rough with more than just his hangover. “Wanna roll over for me, luv?”
Angel froze up, suddenly realizing what agreement he’d missed, and Spike stopped moving. After another moment, Spike slipped his fingers free and he sat up, hands resting lightly on Angel’s thighs.
“Pet?”
He’d never bottomed before. Never even thought about it, and it never would have occurred to him that Spike would be the one….
It surprised him when the flashing images put a hot tingling buzz low in his stomach.
Angel didn’t realize just how long of a silence there had been until Spike’s expression grew resigned and he began to move away.
“Wait.” Angel grabbed Spike’s wrist to keep him from leaving, but he was backlit by the light from the hallway now and it was difficult to make out his features. Feeling self-conscious and naked (which he was, but…yeah, the other kind of naked. Really, really naked and nervous, and maybe just a little bit nauseous), he rolled onto his stomach.
He was holding his breath when the bed shifted and a light hand stroked down his back, and lips pressed against the tattoo he’d gotten in a fit of stupidity on his 18th birthday.
It had been Spike’s idea. Of course it had.
He was almost too tense for Spike’s fingers when they probed again at his hole, but there was steady pressure and a hand stroking over his lower back and a few murmured endearments…and eventually the tension eased away.
(“’M not gonna hurt you, you silly sod, so unclench a bit, there’s a darling.”)
Spike made him laugh, and made him gasp, and eventually made him bite his lip as he pressed the head of his cock against Angel’s hole and carefully pushed inside.
When Angel tried to push himself up, to push back, to participate, a hand between his shoulder blades put him back flat against the bed, and then Spike’s weight settled over his back. Warm skin to warm skin.
“Told you, didn’t I?”
The light reprimand ended as Spike withdrew and thrust back inside. It made Angel moan and arch his back-felt good, even though it was uncomfortable at first, even though it was odd to lay there, completely powerless in this position to do anything other than absorb the slow-fast slam of Spike’s hips into his own and claw at the sheets that smelled like Spike.
Spike’s breath was hot and shaky against the back of Angel’s neck, and Angel felt oddly enveloped by him…by the bracing arms and the chest tightly pressed to his back and the thighs hugging the outsides of his own.
“Fuck. Pet.” Lips were pressed to the back of his sweaty neck…then scraping teeth that made him shudder. “Good, yeah?”
Angel nodded, and Spike pushed up to kneel behind him, shifting him onto his knees as he began to plow harder into Angel from behind. Now Angel could push back against him, mind full of white static as he grunted on each impact.
He knew he flushed bright red when Spike murmured, “That’s right, luv, fuck yourself on my cock. God, you’ve got a pretty arse.”
But he did it anyway.
He was so close. He could feel the tell-tale tingle at the base of his spine, and Spike’s breath was hitching and heavy in that now-familiar cadence. Once Spike took hold of his erection and started pumping him, it was only a matter of time before, one after the other, they both stiffened and shuddered as they came.
It was somewhat soothing to Angel’s ego that afterwards, Spike lay sprawled under his possessive arm, looking sated and sleepy as a kitten who’d glutted itself on cream. Though he was pretty sure any comparisons between Spike and a kitten out loud meant he wouldn’t get laid for a very long time, so he kept his mouth shut.
Spike grinned at him smugly. “See what good things happen when you let me drive for a change?” At the exaggerated eyebrow waggle, Angel laughed and kissed him. And then Spike kissed him. And then he kissed back….
And Spike still had hangover breath, so that just proved he loved him.
Huh. Apparently…he did.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
Their faces were lying close together on the pillow. Spike smiled. “Yeah, you’re a bit of alright too, you big berk.”
“Listen, about next year-”
Spike looked away, suddenly irritated. He blew an exasperated breath towards the ceiling. “I registered for community college, are you happy now? Dunno what the bloody hell I’m paying them for, but….”
When he gave him a dirty look as if education were a plague, Angel couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah. That does make me happy, actually. But I was just going to say you need to keep your clothes on when Kat comes to live with us.”
Spike blinked at him for a moment before his mouth curved up, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Course, we’ll have to get a better lock on the door to the bedroom, because every coed from here to San Diego is going to want to watch me shag you senseless.”
“Spike….”
“No, ‘s true. Might want to soundproof the place as well, unless you want them to hear you beggin’ me, ‘give it to me harder, Spike. Christ, what a big cock you have, Spike.’”
Angel had found, through trial and error, that the best way to shut Spike up was to put something in his mouth. In this case, his tongue.
When he pulled back this time, Spike was practically purring. Definitely not talking, which was good. Except….
“Spike?”
“Mm. Yeah, luv.”
“Promise me something.”
“What’s that?”
“From now on, you brush your teeth before we make out. And use mouthwash, while you’re at it.”
Because really…he didn’t love him that much.
ok, folks, I hope you enjoyed this! that's it for me. I think i might snag another day later in the season but we'll see if I can come up with anything I want to write first. can't wait to see what everyone comes up with!
thanks!