Buffyverse Fic: Intimate [Spike/Angel] 1/1
Alright, so I had this ready to go a week ago, but then LJ decided to post-block me (I could so turn this whole paragraph into a thinly veiled euphemism for sex it isn't even funny ... except maybe it is, heh) and I couldn't do anything with my journal. It just sat there taunting me, not letting me post and not letting me comment. *glares at it a little* Anyway, since it's finally letting me do something, I figured I'd better post while I can.
This is the Spike/Angel fic I mentioned a few posts ago. It was supposed to be the first story in what I was going to call the Secrets!verse, a series of related although self-contained one shot fics taking place around canon, meaning they supplement it, not rewrite it. Maybe someday I'll write more in this 'verse, but for now, I'm going to leave it as is and put it in the one shot category.
Also, please be warned. Although you can probably guess from the fact that this story works around canon, this is not a happily ever after. If I had made it into a series and followed it through AtS S5 where Angel and Spike end up working together, which would have given them a lot of 'off camera' time to work out their issues, it might very well have approached something resembling happiness, but at the point in canon where this story takes place? Yeah. That so wasn't going to happen.
Intimate
Fandom: BtVS/AtS
Pairing: Spike/Angel
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Not a happily ever after (not death fic, though)
Disclaimer: Not mine, not for profit ... just borrowing them to get the plot bunny that invaded my brain to shut up already.
Beta'd: by silk_labyrinth
smut_69 prompt: #60 - Enemies; Big Kinky Table
hc_bingo prompt: magical trouble (Wild card fill); Bingo Card
Word Count: 4,407 words
Setting: Takes place during AtS S1 Ep6 Sense and Sensitivity, after Angel saves the day but before the sensitivity curse wears off. Also takes place just before Spike returns to Sunnydale in BtVS S4 Ep6 Wild At Heart and is zapped by the Initiative, interrupting his plans to go after Buffy.
Summary: He should've just ambushed Angel and finished him off instead of walking into his lair like a complete prat and letting Angel get the upper hand.
A/N #1: I take the 'Except for that one…' comment Spike made to Illyria in AtS S5 to mean that he and Angel had only been intimate one time, which in my opinion is on a different level than just having sex. So … back in the day? They fucked like bunnies. *g*
A/N #2: I didn't have The Kill by 30 Seconds to Mars playing when I wrote this fic-didn't even have it in the back of my head at the time-but it popped up in my player just now while I was getting this post ready and wow do the lyrics and the feel of that song just fit.
Spike was aware of Angel before he could scent or hear him. He had been able to do so ever since the early days. The days when they'd been inseparable. The days when Angelus would've enjoyed a hot poker or two, and would have given as good as he got. Now, though, now…
Spike shook his head and affected a casual pose with a hint of contriteness as the lift descended to Angel's underground flat. Spike knew he had to play this just right or he'd likely end up dust. Least, that was the word on the street. Angel had put a price on Spike's head, but only if he was intact. Apparently, Angel wanted the honors of ending Spike himself.
The lift stopped and the door opened, and then there was Angel, standing just inside it, staring at him.
Spike swallowed and tried for an apologetic grin. "Heard you were looking for me."
"Spike," Angel said.
Nothing else, just Spike. And then he continued to stare in a rather unnerving way.
Spike cleared his throat and did what he did best when scared. He got sarcastic. "In the undead flesh, Peaches," he said, leaning his bum against the back of the couch just behind him.
Angel growled. He was across the room and in Spike's face in the blink of an eye.
Spike leaned back slightly. "Whoa, personal space mean anything, you big oaf?"
"You hired someone to stab me with hot pokers, Spike."
Bugger. This was a bad idea. He should've just ambushed Angel and finished him off instead of walking into his lair like a complete prat and letting Angel get the upper hand.
Trying to put off the inevitable, Spike said, "Well, yeah, but-"
"Shh," Angel said as he placed a finger over Spike's lips to silence him.
Spike blinked. No way was that compassion or understanding on Angel's face. The bloke Spike had eaten on the way over must've been on something and now he was hallucinating. But then Angel smiled and Spike decided that Angel was the one on something.
"It's alright," Angel said, finger still pressed against Spike's lips. "I understand. You were just acting out. You have sire issues and who can blame you?"
Spike tensed. So that was Angel's game. Taunt him before he dusted him. Angrily, Spike smacked Angel's hand away and shoved him backwards.
Taking a step away from the couch so that Angel couldn't trap him so easily a second time, Spike said, "I don't have bloody sire issues. And if I did, they'd be with Drusilla, you berk."
Angel shook his head, looking sad. "She only turned you. I made you who you are, Spike; we both know that." Angel paused, then added in a voice shaky with emotion, "And I've failed you."
Spike's jaw dropped and he backed up a step as Angel started toward him. "You're out of your bleedin' tree, mate."
Angel made a tsking sound as he took another step forward. "You use your words like a shield. You don’t need to with me. Not anymore. Let me in, Spike. Show me your true self."
Freaked out by Angel's about-face, Spike shifted into gameface and bared his teeth. "This is my true self, Angel, we both know that."
Angel took another step forward, which put him directly in front of Spike because at some point Spike had foolishly stopped backing up.
Reaching out, Angel traced the bumps and ridges on Spike's face, expression mournful. "No, Spike. I know that's what I taught you, but it's not true. This is only one side of you. You're much more than the demon. You're beautiful. Inside and out. You're loyal and loving and … and…" Angel's voice caught and he broke off, his lower lip trembling as if he were about to cry. He swallowed, then finished in a near whisper, "And you're everything I'm not, but want to be."
Spike was too gobsmacked to move, much less respond. He didn't know what was going on. All he knew was that his sire-because yes, he did consider Angel his sire, not Drusilla-was suddenly barmy … or a much better actor than Spike had ever given him credit for.
After a moment, during which Angel continued to trace bumps and ridges and look at him as if he was his entire world, Spike shifted back to his human face and found his voice, asking quietly, "What are you playing at here, Angel? What is this? Decided to mindfuck me before you dust me?"
Angel's eyes actually welled with tears as he said, "It's not a game, Spike, although I don't blame you for thinking so. I've treated you badly over the years. I just want to make up for it. I want to show you how much you mean to me."
Spike fought it, but Angel was getting to him. The tears felt real. The words felt true. None of it felt like a game or a trick.
Spike swallowed against the lump in his throat. "Even if this isn't a game, even if this is for real, don't you think it's just a little too late to mend broken fences? There's a hundred years and a soul between us now."
Instead of answering with words, Angel leaned in and pressed his lips to Spike's. Spike stood frozen in shock. That is, until he felt the telltale wetness of Angel's tongue tracing his lips. Jerking into motion, Spike tried to push Angel away. Instead, Angel grabbed his face between his hands and continued to kiss him, not budging an inch.
Spike struggled in his hold for another moment, but the act was half-hearted. If he was honest with himself, he'd wanted this moment to happen for longer than he cared to admit. He'd missed Angel, missed his sire on a base level he couldn't deny. Had missed him for over a hundred years. Sunnydale didn't count. Angel had been too obsessed with Buffy to see anything but her.
Once Spike stopped struggling and simply stood still-not fighting but not participating either-Angel said against his lips, "It's not too late, Spike. Don't say that. Let me make it up to you. Let me be your sire again."
Spike squeezed his eyes shut and contemplated his options, although it was hard to think with Angel pressed against him, Angel's lips pressed to his, Angel's hands cradling his face. He should knee Angel in the bollocks and just … take off. Head for parts unknown. True, he'd tried to get out of town several times now without success because of the price on his head, but one of these times he would succeed, and then he was never stepping foot in LA again.
Spike reached up and pushed at Angel's chest slightly. Angel pulled his face back and their eyes locked.
Clearing his throat, Spike asked as casually as he could manage, "What's with the sudden change of heart, mate?"
"The pokers were a wake-up call. You couldn't even do it yourself, Spike. You had to hire someone. It was a cry for attention and I got the message."
Spike blinked. Right. Angel was daft. Only explanation. He should just… Angel's lips touched his again, short-circuiting his thoughts. In spite of himself, Spike parted his lips and allowed Angel inside.
Spike groaned as Angel's tongue licked over his for the first time in decades. It was everything he remembered, and more. It was fucking brilliant. He was too worn down from hiding out since the poker incident from every greedy demon in the LA underworld to fight what was happening now, not to mention he was lonely. Had been ever since Dru dumped him. Harmony didn’t even register on his radar. That hadn't been a relationship. They hadn't been close. She'd just been a convenient amusement for a time.
Angel, though, Angel was family, even if they both tried to ignore that fact most times. Angel was family, and home, and sire, and Spike wanted that like nothing else right then. Maybe Angel wasn't so daft after all. Maybe the pokers had been a cry for attention. Still, he needed some sort of defense, some way to keep his dignity if this was all just an act. When Angel tried to slide his duster off his shoulders, Spike pushed at his chest again.
Licking his lips as they broke the kiss, Spike stared up at him. "If this is some sort of game, Angel, I'll stake you while you sleep."
Angel smiled at him softly and rubbed the pads of his thumbs back and forth over Spike's cheeks. "It's not a game. It's the way it should be between us. It's what you've deserved from me all these years and didn't get. I'm giving it to you now."
And then Angel kissed him again and Spike lost the fight completely. He kissed back, hands tangling in Angel's hair, grabbing fistfuls. Angel kissed him just as desperately, and before long they were writhing against each other and moaning into each other's mouths.
Needing to touch and taste and be touched and tasted, Spike shoved Angel away and shrugged out of his coat, letting it fall to the floor. Angel's eyes flashed with heat as he followed suit. They shed the rest of their clothing as quickly as possible, and then they were back in each other's arms; hard, naked bodies pressed together as they devoured each other.
Spike allowed Angel to walk him toward the bedroom, and then they were there and Angel was lowering him down onto it and then himself down onto Spike. Spike arched under him, spreading his legs so that he could feel every inch of the body pressed against him.
"Bloody hell," he said, breaking the kiss, his voice filled with wonder. It had been much, much too long since they'd been like this.
Angel kissed his way down the side of Spike's neck and licked over his jugular, making him shiver with need. He wanted Angel's teeth in him nearly as much as he wanted his cock in him. He made a noise of frustration as Angel's mouth moved lower instead of biting him, headed for his chest.
"Shh," Angel said against his skin. "Just let yourself feel it. Feel how much I want you, how much I need you. Let me show you how sorry I am for everything, Spike."
Spike squeezed his eyes shut against Angel's words, feeling overwhelmed and much, much too vulnerable. He thought about bolting for a second, but then Angel caught his nipple between blunt teeth and tugged and Spike was lost, no longer thinking, just feeling as he arched and moaned, hands going to Angel's head once again, holding him close. Angel obliged, biting and licking until Spike's nipple was swollen and red before moving to the other.
Spike was panting by the time Angel moved down his chest and over his stomach, pausing to dip his tongue into his navel before moving lower and swallowing him whole. Spike cried out and bucked up, hands flying to the bed sheets and fisting them as Angel sucked his cock down his throat. Hands pressed down on Spike's hips and he whimpered but dutifully stopped moving, head rolling from side to side as he tried to hold off his orgasm. He lost the battle when Angel let go of one hip to press a dry finger to his hole, pushing in slightly while he swallowed around Spike's length and hummed.
Spike screamed and bucked up in spite of Angel's other hand still on his hip. He felt the come pulse from his cock, heard Angel swallow and moan in appreciation and nearly came again. As it was, he relaxed into the bed, spent. Boneless.
Angel rose over him and kissed him again, letting Spike taste himself in Angel's mouth as Angel fumbled for something in his nightstand. Spike kissed back, brain cells too fried to realize what Angel was doing until his legs were already over broad shoulders, slicked cock pressing into him.
Spike shook his head and reached down, trying to stop Angel from thrusting forward. "No, wait. T-too soon. Give me a minute here, yeah?"
Angel kissed him again and grabbed Spike's wrists one at a time, pressing them into the bed on either side of his head. "I promise it'll feel good, Spike. You'll feel so good."
Spike shook his head and flexed his arms in Angel's hold, but didn't otherwise make any attempt to get free or stop Angel as he pressed forward, pressed into him, split him open. He groaned, eyes fluttering shut as he felt Angel slide in.
Once he stopped moving, Angel ordered softly, "Look at me, Spike."
Spike forced his eyes open and his breath caught at the look of intense need in Angel's eyes. "Angel…"
"See how much I need you. How much you affect me."
Spike licked his lips and nodded. Angel started moving, pulling partway out agonizingly slowly before thrusting back in, fast and hard. Spike gasped as his oversensitive prostate was stimulated to the point of pain. He pulled against the hold Angel had on his wrists, reveling in it, reveling in Angel's attention, reveling in the wantneednow even as he writhed and tried to get away, No, no, too much repeating like a litany in his head. But he didn't say it and Angel didn't stop, and Spike didn't kid himself that Angel would have stopped if he had said it, because in spite of it being too much, too fast after his orgasm, Spike was loving every single second of it.
He felt himself start to lengthen and harden again, felt pre-come leak onto his stomach as Angel drove into him over and over, not letting up, not giving Spike a second's reprieve from the physical and emotional intensity of the moment. Spike began panting, head thrashing back and forth again, arms jerking in Angel's hold as sparks shot through his body, both painful and intensely pleasurable all at once. And still Angel thrust into him over and over for what seemed like both an eternity and yet only a second in time.
"Please," Spike gasped brokenly. "Please, Angel, n-need to come. Please."
"Not yet. Not until you understand how sorry I am, how much I regret the years we lost." Angel sounded determined.
Spike forced his eyes open and stared up at Angel, willing him to see the truth of what he was about to say. "I get it, Angel. I swear. I-oh fuck-I get it. Promise. Please, let me come. 'S too much. Can't-can't take it anymore."
And he meant it, every word. Thankfully, Angel saw that and let go of his wrists, repositioning himself on his knees, hands on the backs of Spike's thighs, pushing his legs up even higher as he thrust in hard and fast, cock rubbing back and forth over Spike's prostate.
Spike cried out and shoved himself back onto Angel as much as he could, his newly freed hand flying to his cock. He stripped it quickly as his balls drew up and then he was coming and everything whited out for a moment. He vaguely felt Angel's thrusts become uneven and shallow, and then heard Angel's groan of completion as his hips stuttered to a halt.
After a moment, Spike's legs were released and he carefully slid them down onto the mattress on either side of Angel's, wincing as they protested from the prolonged stretch. As he came back to himself, back to the present, he tensed, half expecting Angel to pull out, roll off and laugh at him. Tell him he was an idiot for falling for the act. Tell him to get out and never show his face again. It'd be the perfect revenge and they both knew it. It would be more effective at destroying him than a simple dusting ever could be.
Instead, Angel stayed inside him as he softened, leaning down to kiss Spike gently. Spike stared up at Angel afterward, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Angel did the unexpected again, though, and smiled warmly at him.
Dropping his forehead down to Spike's, he said quietly, voice filled with emotion, "I love you, you know. Never stopped. Even through all the crap. I couldn't take the separation, Spike. That's why I acted like I did. I had to push you away because it hurt too much to have you around."
Spike blinked back a suspicious moisture in his eyes, refusing to let himself start weeping like a soddin' nancy at words he'd always wanted to hear but never thought he would. He didn't know how Angel had got past all his defenses so fast and so completely, but he had, and now Spike was a raw mess of emotions and didn't know what to do with them all.
So he did what he always did and put his heart on his figurative sleeve. Love's bitch, that was him. "Love you too, git. Always have, even when you were being a complete wanker."
Angel chuckled and leaned in, kissing him one last time before rolling to the side, taking Spike with him. Angel wiped them off with a corner of the sheet and they settled in, facing each other with heads on the same pillow, arms and legs tangled together as they fell asleep.
~*~
Spike woke an indeterminate time later and blinked at the face directly in front of his. Angel was still asleep, looking peaceful and happy. Spike grinned. He had no idea how he'd got here, but if it had anything to do with shoving hot pokers in Angel, he wished he'd done it sooner. He chuckled to himself at the thought.
Angel stirred and opened his eyes. Their gazes locked and Spike's grin widened, wondering if they could manage another round before Angel inevitably insisted they get clean.
When Angel didn't speak or move, Spike reached out and traced his features, asking, "Fancy another go, luv?"
Angel's mouth opened and closed and Spike felt the first twinges that something was off. That maybe he should've run when he had the chance.
As if electrocuted, Angel suddenly shot up and out of the bed, looking around as if searching for something.
"What is it?" Spike asked, afraid of the answer.
Angel met his gaze, then looked away again. "No. No. This isn't happening. There was a stick, and then ... and then…" Angel's eyes flew back to Spike's. "We had sex. And I told you I... And you said… Christ." Angel turned away and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "I'm gonna kill him."
Spike swallowed hard, not liking where this was going. "Kill who?"
Angel let out a long, pained breath and sank down onto the bed, his back to Spike. "Spike, I... Last night, I … wasn't myself."
Spike pushed up to a sitting position, his back to the headboard, and pulled a sheet up over his lap-for all the good it would do now. Afraid of the answer, he asked, "Not yourself, how?"
Angel glanced over his shoulder at him. "Don’t tell me you didn't notice."
Spike tensed. "Noticed something was different, but you didn't smell off. No drugs, no alcohol, so…"
Angel sighed and looked away again. "It was magic. A curse, specifically. There was this thing with the cops and this law firm… Anyway, last night… That wasn't me. Well, it was, but … it wasn't. It was a spell to make whoever touched the stick just sort of emote all over the place."
Spike felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He closed his eyes and absorbed that, what it meant, and how much of a fool he'd been. He'd said things to Angel that he'd never live down. He'd let Angel make love to him. They'd never made love, not before or after the soul. They'd fucked plenty of times, but there hadn't been anywhere near the level of connection there'd been last night. And it was all because of some kind of bloody mojo.
If Angel didn't kill the arsehole, Spike would.
A hand reached out and touched Spike's partially exposed thigh. Spike jerked away like he'd been burned, eyes flying open. The pity he saw in Angel's gaze was too much on top of everything else. He had to get out of there and he had to do it now before he did something even stupider than he already had. Maybe begging Angel to give them the chance he'd promised last night.
Love's bitch to the end.
Clearing his throat, Spike climbed out of his side of the bed and started for his kit in the other room. "Right, then. Was fun, but time for me to be on my way."
"Spike," Angel said, following him out.
Spike shook his head as he pulled on his jeans. "No. 'S fine, really. Was just a bit of rough and tumble, yeah?"
"Spike," Angel said again, this time closer.
Spike ignored him and pulled on his shirt, then his coat. He could hear Angel struggling behind him with his own kit. Refusing to look in Angel's direction, Spike started for the lift. A hand on his arm stopped him just before he reached it.
Spike waited, not turning around but not pulling away either, and after a moment, Angel said quietly, "I didn't know you felt that way. I … didn't know."
Spike closed his eyes and swallowed against the lump that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in his throat.
Willing himself to find one last shred of dignity to cling onto, Spike turned to Angel and chuckled. "Right. You bought that, then?"
Doubt flickered through Angel's eyes, but he shook his head. "Don't tell me that was an act. I know you better than that."
Spike clenched his jaw and jerked free of Angel's hold. "It was an act. Was just playing along. Figured you were getting some kind of revenge for the poker thing and decided it was easier to go along than fight you on it. Hoped maybe it'd get the price off my head, if nothing else."
Angel's gaze narrowed and his voice hardened as he said, "So you what? Whored yourself out? To me? That was a bit extreme, wasn't it?"
Hackles up, Spike clenched his fists and said, "You want to talk extreme? I have you tortured no worse than something you would have asked for back in the day, and you decide to dust me for it? What the fuck, Angel?"
Angel stepped close, getting in Spike's face. "You didn't even have the balls to do it yourself. At least I could have respected that. You hired a child molester, Spike."
Spike's eyes widened. "That's why you're so pissed? Because he liked to put it to little kiddies?"
The fist to his jaw wasn't entirely unexpected, but Spike still stumbled back a few steps, his eyes watering. He told himself it was solely from the pain that exploded through his face. No other reason.
Angel advanced again, fists balled. "Yes, Spike. That's why I'm so pissed."
Spike dropped into fighting stance and they circled each other. "See, I don’t think so. I think you're pissed because I didn't do it myself. I think you wanted me to. You ached for it, didn't you, Angel? You said that stick or whatever made you over-emote. You didn't say it made you say things you didn't mean. So, I'm thinking you meant every word. Just didn't have the guts to say it until you were mojoed into it." Angel growled, eyes flashing gold. Spike grinned. "Hit a nerve, did I?"
Angel attacked, flying at Spike, fist raised. Spike dodged the punch and landed one of his own before Angel's foot caught him in the back of the leg, sending him crashing to the floor with a grunt of pain. Before he could recover, Angel grabbed him by the front of his coat and hauled him up, slamming him against the wall next to the lift.
"Maybe I meant it on some level," Angel snarled, "but overall? I just think you're a useless waste of space. You're a fuckup, Spike. And you're pathetic, carrying a torch for your sire all these years. You jumped at the first scrap of affection I gave you, and you don’t even have magic as an excuse."
Spike's insides twisted and he felt bile in the back of his throat, Angel's words cutting him deeper than any physical torture ever could. And they both knew it.
In as cold and steady a voice as he could manage, Spike said, "Like I said, was just playing along, tosser. Hoped it'd get the price off my head. Haven't had a decent shag in a while, at any rate, so I figured what the hell? I'm not carrying a torch for you, you egotistical arse."
Angel leaned in until their faces were inches apart and said in a deadly calm voice, "I'll call off the manhunt and then I want you to get out of my building and out of this town tonight. After all, you earned it." With a smirk that was very much reminiscent of Angelus back in the day, he added, "You always were good on your back."
Spike's cheeks would have been burning in humiliation if he had circulation. As it was, he found himself unable to stare Angel in the eye. He dropped his gaze, the act both humiliating in its own right and a sign of capitulation. Of submission.
Apparently it was what Angel wanted to see because he let go and stepped back, crossing to his phone. Spike remained where he was, listening as Angel called off the price on his head. After Angel hung up, Spike turned toward the lift, but Angel's voice stopped him in his tracks.
"I hear you're still around after tonight, I'll put the bounty back on, and this time the instructions will be to dust on sight."
Seething inside, Spike stepped into the lift without a word. Angel was going to pay for this and Spike knew just how to hit him where it would hurt the most. As the lift came to a stop on the main floor, a grin slowly curled Spike's lips. Next stop, Sunnydale.
The Slayer wouldn't know what hit her.
-Fin
This is the Spike/Angel fic I mentioned a few posts ago. It was supposed to be the first story in what I was going to call the Secrets!verse, a series of related although self-contained one shot fics taking place around canon, meaning they supplement it, not rewrite it. Maybe someday I'll write more in this 'verse, but for now, I'm going to leave it as is and put it in the one shot category.
Also, please be warned. Although you can probably guess from the fact that this story works around canon, this is not a happily ever after. If I had made it into a series and followed it through AtS S5 where Angel and Spike end up working together, which would have given them a lot of 'off camera' time to work out their issues, it might very well have approached something resembling happiness, but at the point in canon where this story takes place? Yeah. That so wasn't going to happen.
Intimate
Fandom: BtVS/AtS
Pairing: Spike/Angel
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Not a happily ever after (not death fic, though)
Disclaimer: Not mine, not for profit ... just borrowing them to get the plot bunny that invaded my brain to shut up already.
Beta'd: by silk_labyrinth
smut_69 prompt: #60 - Enemies; Big Kinky Table
hc_bingo prompt: magical trouble (Wild card fill); Bingo Card
Word Count: 4,407 words
Setting: Takes place during AtS S1 Ep6 Sense and Sensitivity, after Angel saves the day but before the sensitivity curse wears off. Also takes place just before Spike returns to Sunnydale in BtVS S4 Ep6 Wild At Heart and is zapped by the Initiative, interrupting his plans to go after Buffy.
Summary: He should've just ambushed Angel and finished him off instead of walking into his lair like a complete prat and letting Angel get the upper hand.
A/N #1: I take the 'Except for that one…' comment Spike made to Illyria in AtS S5 to mean that he and Angel had only been intimate one time, which in my opinion is on a different level than just having sex. So … back in the day? They fucked like bunnies. *g*
A/N #2: I didn't have The Kill by 30 Seconds to Mars playing when I wrote this fic-didn't even have it in the back of my head at the time-but it popped up in my player just now while I was getting this post ready and wow do the lyrics and the feel of that song just fit.
Spike was aware of Angel before he could scent or hear him. He had been able to do so ever since the early days. The days when they'd been inseparable. The days when Angelus would've enjoyed a hot poker or two, and would have given as good as he got. Now, though, now…
Spike shook his head and affected a casual pose with a hint of contriteness as the lift descended to Angel's underground flat. Spike knew he had to play this just right or he'd likely end up dust. Least, that was the word on the street. Angel had put a price on Spike's head, but only if he was intact. Apparently, Angel wanted the honors of ending Spike himself.
The lift stopped and the door opened, and then there was Angel, standing just inside it, staring at him.
Spike swallowed and tried for an apologetic grin. "Heard you were looking for me."
"Spike," Angel said.
Nothing else, just Spike. And then he continued to stare in a rather unnerving way.
Spike cleared his throat and did what he did best when scared. He got sarcastic. "In the undead flesh, Peaches," he said, leaning his bum against the back of the couch just behind him.
Angel growled. He was across the room and in Spike's face in the blink of an eye.
Spike leaned back slightly. "Whoa, personal space mean anything, you big oaf?"
"You hired someone to stab me with hot pokers, Spike."
Bugger. This was a bad idea. He should've just ambushed Angel and finished him off instead of walking into his lair like a complete prat and letting Angel get the upper hand.
Trying to put off the inevitable, Spike said, "Well, yeah, but-"
"Shh," Angel said as he placed a finger over Spike's lips to silence him.
Spike blinked. No way was that compassion or understanding on Angel's face. The bloke Spike had eaten on the way over must've been on something and now he was hallucinating. But then Angel smiled and Spike decided that Angel was the one on something.
"It's alright," Angel said, finger still pressed against Spike's lips. "I understand. You were just acting out. You have sire issues and who can blame you?"
Spike tensed. So that was Angel's game. Taunt him before he dusted him. Angrily, Spike smacked Angel's hand away and shoved him backwards.
Taking a step away from the couch so that Angel couldn't trap him so easily a second time, Spike said, "I don't have bloody sire issues. And if I did, they'd be with Drusilla, you berk."
Angel shook his head, looking sad. "She only turned you. I made you who you are, Spike; we both know that." Angel paused, then added in a voice shaky with emotion, "And I've failed you."
Spike's jaw dropped and he backed up a step as Angel started toward him. "You're out of your bleedin' tree, mate."
Angel made a tsking sound as he took another step forward. "You use your words like a shield. You don’t need to with me. Not anymore. Let me in, Spike. Show me your true self."
Freaked out by Angel's about-face, Spike shifted into gameface and bared his teeth. "This is my true self, Angel, we both know that."
Angel took another step forward, which put him directly in front of Spike because at some point Spike had foolishly stopped backing up.
Reaching out, Angel traced the bumps and ridges on Spike's face, expression mournful. "No, Spike. I know that's what I taught you, but it's not true. This is only one side of you. You're much more than the demon. You're beautiful. Inside and out. You're loyal and loving and … and…" Angel's voice caught and he broke off, his lower lip trembling as if he were about to cry. He swallowed, then finished in a near whisper, "And you're everything I'm not, but want to be."
Spike was too gobsmacked to move, much less respond. He didn't know what was going on. All he knew was that his sire-because yes, he did consider Angel his sire, not Drusilla-was suddenly barmy … or a much better actor than Spike had ever given him credit for.
After a moment, during which Angel continued to trace bumps and ridges and look at him as if he was his entire world, Spike shifted back to his human face and found his voice, asking quietly, "What are you playing at here, Angel? What is this? Decided to mindfuck me before you dust me?"
Angel's eyes actually welled with tears as he said, "It's not a game, Spike, although I don't blame you for thinking so. I've treated you badly over the years. I just want to make up for it. I want to show you how much you mean to me."
Spike fought it, but Angel was getting to him. The tears felt real. The words felt true. None of it felt like a game or a trick.
Spike swallowed against the lump in his throat. "Even if this isn't a game, even if this is for real, don't you think it's just a little too late to mend broken fences? There's a hundred years and a soul between us now."
Instead of answering with words, Angel leaned in and pressed his lips to Spike's. Spike stood frozen in shock. That is, until he felt the telltale wetness of Angel's tongue tracing his lips. Jerking into motion, Spike tried to push Angel away. Instead, Angel grabbed his face between his hands and continued to kiss him, not budging an inch.
Spike struggled in his hold for another moment, but the act was half-hearted. If he was honest with himself, he'd wanted this moment to happen for longer than he cared to admit. He'd missed Angel, missed his sire on a base level he couldn't deny. Had missed him for over a hundred years. Sunnydale didn't count. Angel had been too obsessed with Buffy to see anything but her.
Once Spike stopped struggling and simply stood still-not fighting but not participating either-Angel said against his lips, "It's not too late, Spike. Don't say that. Let me make it up to you. Let me be your sire again."
Spike squeezed his eyes shut and contemplated his options, although it was hard to think with Angel pressed against him, Angel's lips pressed to his, Angel's hands cradling his face. He should knee Angel in the bollocks and just … take off. Head for parts unknown. True, he'd tried to get out of town several times now without success because of the price on his head, but one of these times he would succeed, and then he was never stepping foot in LA again.
Spike reached up and pushed at Angel's chest slightly. Angel pulled his face back and their eyes locked.
Clearing his throat, Spike asked as casually as he could manage, "What's with the sudden change of heart, mate?"
"The pokers were a wake-up call. You couldn't even do it yourself, Spike. You had to hire someone. It was a cry for attention and I got the message."
Spike blinked. Right. Angel was daft. Only explanation. He should just… Angel's lips touched his again, short-circuiting his thoughts. In spite of himself, Spike parted his lips and allowed Angel inside.
Spike groaned as Angel's tongue licked over his for the first time in decades. It was everything he remembered, and more. It was fucking brilliant. He was too worn down from hiding out since the poker incident from every greedy demon in the LA underworld to fight what was happening now, not to mention he was lonely. Had been ever since Dru dumped him. Harmony didn’t even register on his radar. That hadn't been a relationship. They hadn't been close. She'd just been a convenient amusement for a time.
Angel, though, Angel was family, even if they both tried to ignore that fact most times. Angel was family, and home, and sire, and Spike wanted that like nothing else right then. Maybe Angel wasn't so daft after all. Maybe the pokers had been a cry for attention. Still, he needed some sort of defense, some way to keep his dignity if this was all just an act. When Angel tried to slide his duster off his shoulders, Spike pushed at his chest again.
Licking his lips as they broke the kiss, Spike stared up at him. "If this is some sort of game, Angel, I'll stake you while you sleep."
Angel smiled at him softly and rubbed the pads of his thumbs back and forth over Spike's cheeks. "It's not a game. It's the way it should be between us. It's what you've deserved from me all these years and didn't get. I'm giving it to you now."
And then Angel kissed him again and Spike lost the fight completely. He kissed back, hands tangling in Angel's hair, grabbing fistfuls. Angel kissed him just as desperately, and before long they were writhing against each other and moaning into each other's mouths.
Needing to touch and taste and be touched and tasted, Spike shoved Angel away and shrugged out of his coat, letting it fall to the floor. Angel's eyes flashed with heat as he followed suit. They shed the rest of their clothing as quickly as possible, and then they were back in each other's arms; hard, naked bodies pressed together as they devoured each other.
Spike allowed Angel to walk him toward the bedroom, and then they were there and Angel was lowering him down onto it and then himself down onto Spike. Spike arched under him, spreading his legs so that he could feel every inch of the body pressed against him.
"Bloody hell," he said, breaking the kiss, his voice filled with wonder. It had been much, much too long since they'd been like this.
Angel kissed his way down the side of Spike's neck and licked over his jugular, making him shiver with need. He wanted Angel's teeth in him nearly as much as he wanted his cock in him. He made a noise of frustration as Angel's mouth moved lower instead of biting him, headed for his chest.
"Shh," Angel said against his skin. "Just let yourself feel it. Feel how much I want you, how much I need you. Let me show you how sorry I am for everything, Spike."
Spike squeezed his eyes shut against Angel's words, feeling overwhelmed and much, much too vulnerable. He thought about bolting for a second, but then Angel caught his nipple between blunt teeth and tugged and Spike was lost, no longer thinking, just feeling as he arched and moaned, hands going to Angel's head once again, holding him close. Angel obliged, biting and licking until Spike's nipple was swollen and red before moving to the other.
Spike was panting by the time Angel moved down his chest and over his stomach, pausing to dip his tongue into his navel before moving lower and swallowing him whole. Spike cried out and bucked up, hands flying to the bed sheets and fisting them as Angel sucked his cock down his throat. Hands pressed down on Spike's hips and he whimpered but dutifully stopped moving, head rolling from side to side as he tried to hold off his orgasm. He lost the battle when Angel let go of one hip to press a dry finger to his hole, pushing in slightly while he swallowed around Spike's length and hummed.
Spike screamed and bucked up in spite of Angel's other hand still on his hip. He felt the come pulse from his cock, heard Angel swallow and moan in appreciation and nearly came again. As it was, he relaxed into the bed, spent. Boneless.
Angel rose over him and kissed him again, letting Spike taste himself in Angel's mouth as Angel fumbled for something in his nightstand. Spike kissed back, brain cells too fried to realize what Angel was doing until his legs were already over broad shoulders, slicked cock pressing into him.
Spike shook his head and reached down, trying to stop Angel from thrusting forward. "No, wait. T-too soon. Give me a minute here, yeah?"
Angel kissed him again and grabbed Spike's wrists one at a time, pressing them into the bed on either side of his head. "I promise it'll feel good, Spike. You'll feel so good."
Spike shook his head and flexed his arms in Angel's hold, but didn't otherwise make any attempt to get free or stop Angel as he pressed forward, pressed into him, split him open. He groaned, eyes fluttering shut as he felt Angel slide in.
Once he stopped moving, Angel ordered softly, "Look at me, Spike."
Spike forced his eyes open and his breath caught at the look of intense need in Angel's eyes. "Angel…"
"See how much I need you. How much you affect me."
Spike licked his lips and nodded. Angel started moving, pulling partway out agonizingly slowly before thrusting back in, fast and hard. Spike gasped as his oversensitive prostate was stimulated to the point of pain. He pulled against the hold Angel had on his wrists, reveling in it, reveling in Angel's attention, reveling in the wantneednow even as he writhed and tried to get away, No, no, too much repeating like a litany in his head. But he didn't say it and Angel didn't stop, and Spike didn't kid himself that Angel would have stopped if he had said it, because in spite of it being too much, too fast after his orgasm, Spike was loving every single second of it.
He felt himself start to lengthen and harden again, felt pre-come leak onto his stomach as Angel drove into him over and over, not letting up, not giving Spike a second's reprieve from the physical and emotional intensity of the moment. Spike began panting, head thrashing back and forth again, arms jerking in Angel's hold as sparks shot through his body, both painful and intensely pleasurable all at once. And still Angel thrust into him over and over for what seemed like both an eternity and yet only a second in time.
"Please," Spike gasped brokenly. "Please, Angel, n-need to come. Please."
"Not yet. Not until you understand how sorry I am, how much I regret the years we lost." Angel sounded determined.
Spike forced his eyes open and stared up at Angel, willing him to see the truth of what he was about to say. "I get it, Angel. I swear. I-oh fuck-I get it. Promise. Please, let me come. 'S too much. Can't-can't take it anymore."
And he meant it, every word. Thankfully, Angel saw that and let go of his wrists, repositioning himself on his knees, hands on the backs of Spike's thighs, pushing his legs up even higher as he thrust in hard and fast, cock rubbing back and forth over Spike's prostate.
Spike cried out and shoved himself back onto Angel as much as he could, his newly freed hand flying to his cock. He stripped it quickly as his balls drew up and then he was coming and everything whited out for a moment. He vaguely felt Angel's thrusts become uneven and shallow, and then heard Angel's groan of completion as his hips stuttered to a halt.
After a moment, Spike's legs were released and he carefully slid them down onto the mattress on either side of Angel's, wincing as they protested from the prolonged stretch. As he came back to himself, back to the present, he tensed, half expecting Angel to pull out, roll off and laugh at him. Tell him he was an idiot for falling for the act. Tell him to get out and never show his face again. It'd be the perfect revenge and they both knew it. It would be more effective at destroying him than a simple dusting ever could be.
Instead, Angel stayed inside him as he softened, leaning down to kiss Spike gently. Spike stared up at Angel afterward, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Angel did the unexpected again, though, and smiled warmly at him.
Dropping his forehead down to Spike's, he said quietly, voice filled with emotion, "I love you, you know. Never stopped. Even through all the crap. I couldn't take the separation, Spike. That's why I acted like I did. I had to push you away because it hurt too much to have you around."
Spike blinked back a suspicious moisture in his eyes, refusing to let himself start weeping like a soddin' nancy at words he'd always wanted to hear but never thought he would. He didn't know how Angel had got past all his defenses so fast and so completely, but he had, and now Spike was a raw mess of emotions and didn't know what to do with them all.
So he did what he always did and put his heart on his figurative sleeve. Love's bitch, that was him. "Love you too, git. Always have, even when you were being a complete wanker."
Angel chuckled and leaned in, kissing him one last time before rolling to the side, taking Spike with him. Angel wiped them off with a corner of the sheet and they settled in, facing each other with heads on the same pillow, arms and legs tangled together as they fell asleep.
~*~
Spike woke an indeterminate time later and blinked at the face directly in front of his. Angel was still asleep, looking peaceful and happy. Spike grinned. He had no idea how he'd got here, but if it had anything to do with shoving hot pokers in Angel, he wished he'd done it sooner. He chuckled to himself at the thought.
Angel stirred and opened his eyes. Their gazes locked and Spike's grin widened, wondering if they could manage another round before Angel inevitably insisted they get clean.
When Angel didn't speak or move, Spike reached out and traced his features, asking, "Fancy another go, luv?"
Angel's mouth opened and closed and Spike felt the first twinges that something was off. That maybe he should've run when he had the chance.
As if electrocuted, Angel suddenly shot up and out of the bed, looking around as if searching for something.
"What is it?" Spike asked, afraid of the answer.
Angel met his gaze, then looked away again. "No. No. This isn't happening. There was a stick, and then ... and then…" Angel's eyes flew back to Spike's. "We had sex. And I told you I... And you said… Christ." Angel turned away and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "I'm gonna kill him."
Spike swallowed hard, not liking where this was going. "Kill who?"
Angel let out a long, pained breath and sank down onto the bed, his back to Spike. "Spike, I... Last night, I … wasn't myself."
Spike pushed up to a sitting position, his back to the headboard, and pulled a sheet up over his lap-for all the good it would do now. Afraid of the answer, he asked, "Not yourself, how?"
Angel glanced over his shoulder at him. "Don’t tell me you didn't notice."
Spike tensed. "Noticed something was different, but you didn't smell off. No drugs, no alcohol, so…"
Angel sighed and looked away again. "It was magic. A curse, specifically. There was this thing with the cops and this law firm… Anyway, last night… That wasn't me. Well, it was, but … it wasn't. It was a spell to make whoever touched the stick just sort of emote all over the place."
Spike felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He closed his eyes and absorbed that, what it meant, and how much of a fool he'd been. He'd said things to Angel that he'd never live down. He'd let Angel make love to him. They'd never made love, not before or after the soul. They'd fucked plenty of times, but there hadn't been anywhere near the level of connection there'd been last night. And it was all because of some kind of bloody mojo.
If Angel didn't kill the arsehole, Spike would.
A hand reached out and touched Spike's partially exposed thigh. Spike jerked away like he'd been burned, eyes flying open. The pity he saw in Angel's gaze was too much on top of everything else. He had to get out of there and he had to do it now before he did something even stupider than he already had. Maybe begging Angel to give them the chance he'd promised last night.
Love's bitch to the end.
Clearing his throat, Spike climbed out of his side of the bed and started for his kit in the other room. "Right, then. Was fun, but time for me to be on my way."
"Spike," Angel said, following him out.
Spike shook his head as he pulled on his jeans. "No. 'S fine, really. Was just a bit of rough and tumble, yeah?"
"Spike," Angel said again, this time closer.
Spike ignored him and pulled on his shirt, then his coat. He could hear Angel struggling behind him with his own kit. Refusing to look in Angel's direction, Spike started for the lift. A hand on his arm stopped him just before he reached it.
Spike waited, not turning around but not pulling away either, and after a moment, Angel said quietly, "I didn't know you felt that way. I … didn't know."
Spike closed his eyes and swallowed against the lump that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in his throat.
Willing himself to find one last shred of dignity to cling onto, Spike turned to Angel and chuckled. "Right. You bought that, then?"
Doubt flickered through Angel's eyes, but he shook his head. "Don't tell me that was an act. I know you better than that."
Spike clenched his jaw and jerked free of Angel's hold. "It was an act. Was just playing along. Figured you were getting some kind of revenge for the poker thing and decided it was easier to go along than fight you on it. Hoped maybe it'd get the price off my head, if nothing else."
Angel's gaze narrowed and his voice hardened as he said, "So you what? Whored yourself out? To me? That was a bit extreme, wasn't it?"
Hackles up, Spike clenched his fists and said, "You want to talk extreme? I have you tortured no worse than something you would have asked for back in the day, and you decide to dust me for it? What the fuck, Angel?"
Angel stepped close, getting in Spike's face. "You didn't even have the balls to do it yourself. At least I could have respected that. You hired a child molester, Spike."
Spike's eyes widened. "That's why you're so pissed? Because he liked to put it to little kiddies?"
The fist to his jaw wasn't entirely unexpected, but Spike still stumbled back a few steps, his eyes watering. He told himself it was solely from the pain that exploded through his face. No other reason.
Angel advanced again, fists balled. "Yes, Spike. That's why I'm so pissed."
Spike dropped into fighting stance and they circled each other. "See, I don’t think so. I think you're pissed because I didn't do it myself. I think you wanted me to. You ached for it, didn't you, Angel? You said that stick or whatever made you over-emote. You didn't say it made you say things you didn't mean. So, I'm thinking you meant every word. Just didn't have the guts to say it until you were mojoed into it." Angel growled, eyes flashing gold. Spike grinned. "Hit a nerve, did I?"
Angel attacked, flying at Spike, fist raised. Spike dodged the punch and landed one of his own before Angel's foot caught him in the back of the leg, sending him crashing to the floor with a grunt of pain. Before he could recover, Angel grabbed him by the front of his coat and hauled him up, slamming him against the wall next to the lift.
"Maybe I meant it on some level," Angel snarled, "but overall? I just think you're a useless waste of space. You're a fuckup, Spike. And you're pathetic, carrying a torch for your sire all these years. You jumped at the first scrap of affection I gave you, and you don’t even have magic as an excuse."
Spike's insides twisted and he felt bile in the back of his throat, Angel's words cutting him deeper than any physical torture ever could. And they both knew it.
In as cold and steady a voice as he could manage, Spike said, "Like I said, was just playing along, tosser. Hoped it'd get the price off my head. Haven't had a decent shag in a while, at any rate, so I figured what the hell? I'm not carrying a torch for you, you egotistical arse."
Angel leaned in until their faces were inches apart and said in a deadly calm voice, "I'll call off the manhunt and then I want you to get out of my building and out of this town tonight. After all, you earned it." With a smirk that was very much reminiscent of Angelus back in the day, he added, "You always were good on your back."
Spike's cheeks would have been burning in humiliation if he had circulation. As it was, he found himself unable to stare Angel in the eye. He dropped his gaze, the act both humiliating in its own right and a sign of capitulation. Of submission.
Apparently it was what Angel wanted to see because he let go and stepped back, crossing to his phone. Spike remained where he was, listening as Angel called off the price on his head. After Angel hung up, Spike turned toward the lift, but Angel's voice stopped him in his tracks.
"I hear you're still around after tonight, I'll put the bounty back on, and this time the instructions will be to dust on sight."
Seething inside, Spike stepped into the lift without a word. Angel was going to pay for this and Spike knew just how to hit him where it would hurt the most. As the lift came to a stop on the main floor, a grin slowly curled Spike's lips. Next stop, Sunnydale.
The Slayer wouldn't know what hit her.
-Fin