The Small Places 2/2
Title: The Small Places
Author: girlpire
Pairing: Spangel (Spike/Angel)
Summary: After an unfortunate battle with a demon, which resulted in his needing hand reattachment surgery, Angel is confined to his Wolfram and Hart apartment while he recovers. With help from the only other person who can really understand what he's going through, Angel begins to re-evaluate his personal definition of beauty.
Author Notes: This story was written for spring_spangel and is in two parts because i had two days. The first part was posted on April 7th. This is as close to hurt/comfort as I will probably ever be able to make myself write, although it doesn't really present itself as h/c, IMO. The complete story is rated NC17, and the NC17 bits are in this part, although they are kind of lame because i got lazy and porn doesn't come naturally to me. *sigh*
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The Small Places, Part Two of Two
*
Angel walked around his apartment. He couldn't decide where he wanted to photograph Spike. He had called down to the office and asked for someone to bring him a tripod, and one had been sent up to the penthouse with a gift from Fred. He thought it would be a lot easier with the tripod because he wouldn't have to hold the camera awkwardly to push the button with his left hand, but now he couldn't figure out where to set it up.
He kept wandering back into the bedroom to look at his bed. He'd almost always drawn Spike lounging on a bed, or else sprawled on the floor in front of a fireplace, but he didn't want to set up the camera in the bedroom and risk Spike balking at the idea of posing on the bed. Anyway, setting up in the bedroom felt like he was assuming something.
Angel continued to wander around.
He'd always drawn Spike naked.
He wandered back into the bedroom.
*
By the time nine rolled around, Angel had just finished setting up. He still had on his dark blue pajama pants, but he'd also pulled on a white ribbed tanktop. It made him feel silly, but he was a little nervous, and he didn't really know why. It was only Spike, right?
He'd compromised and, instead of choosing the bedroom, had the tripod positioned in the den area facing the couch, which had a dark red satin cloth draped over it. He'd always liked the look of that color against Spike's pale skin. He had fiddled with the lights until he was happy, and he'd taken a few test shots to make sure everything looked right. He was nervous.
Spike came in a few minutes past nine. Angel met him at the door.
"Hi," he said.
Spike took one look at him and tried not to laugh.
"What?" Angel asked, left hand immediately going up to his hair.
Spike shook his head, then reached into his duster pocket and produced his notebook. He wrote, You're fucking nervous.
"No, I'm not," Angel said.
Don't be a stupid git, Spike wrote. It's just me.
"I'm not nervous," Angel said, annoyed.
Spike rolled his eyes.
"Have you eaten?" Angel asked.
Spike shook his head, dropping the notebook back in his pocket.
"Come on." He led Spike into the kitchen. "I'm not hungry, but you know where everything is."
Spike opened the refrigerator as Angel sat down at the table. He bent to look inside, then looked over his shoulder at Angel and raised an eyebrow.
"Oh yeah, Fred sent a casserole," Angel said. "You can have it, if you want."
Spike shrugged and took the casserole out of the fridge, popping it into the microwave and starting it. He began opening and closing drawers.
"Forks are..." Angel paused. "I don't actually know where," he said. "But I think I have one."
Spike found one and held it up.
"Right," Angel said.
When the microwave beeped, Spike brought the food over to the table and sat with Angel. He began to eat.
Angel watched him. "I think she forgot I don't eat human food," he said. He watched Spike's lips. He watched Spike's jaw. He watched Spike's eyelashes.
Spike glanced up. He made a What are you gawking at? face.
Angel didn't look away. He felt like he hadn't really looked at Spike in a long time. He studied Spike's face, rediscovering the beauty that lurked in the small places there, the crinkles beside his eyes, the corner of his mouth. He was eager to record them.
Spike ate another few bites, fully aware of Angel watching him. Then he put the fork down.
"Finished?" asked Angel. There was still quite a bit left.
Spike nodded.
"Come in here," Angel said, standing. He walked into the den, and Spike followed him. All of the furniture had been moved to one side of the room, the satin-covered couch standing alone on the other side under the lights. Angel had left some soft jazz playing, just so the room wouldn't be too quiet. He walked over to the tripod.
Spike hovered near the door.
Angel wondered briefly if he were nervous. "It's just me," he said.
Spike gave him a look. He walked confidently up to the couch, then stopped again. He glanced up at Angel.
Angel took a picture and smiled at Spike's expression. "Take off your coat," he said quietly. As Spike shrugged slowly out of his duster, letting it slide down his arms, Angel took two more pictures.
Spike chuckled. He folded the coat over his arm, and Angel snapped that too. Then Angel stepped forward and took it from Spike, walking across the room to drape the coat over the back of a chair. He came back to the tripod and took another picture of Spike just standing there, his hands in the back pockets of his jeans.
"You do have other clothes," Angel noticed.
Spike was wearing a dark blue button-down shirt. He shrugged.
"Have a seat," Angel told him. "Is it new?"
Spike sat in the middle of the couch, his knees spread apart. His hands rested near his crotch. Angel took a picture of his hands, silver rings shining beside black denim. Spike shook his head.
"I've never seen you wear it," Angel said. He took a picture of the folds of the shirt near Spike's lap. He took an extreme close-up of a button. He took a picture of Spike's feet set wide apart. One of his boots was untied.
"Put your hand up behind your head," Angel directed. "No, just one."
Spike put one hand behind his head, letting the other rest in his lap. He was staring at the camera.
"Try to relax," Angel said. "You look like a deer in headlights."
Spike glared at Angel.
Angel snapped a picture. "Well, that was more like you, anyway," he muttered. "Why don't you turn your head a little - don't look at the camera. In fact, close your eyes."
Spike did as Angel said, his eyelashes just brushing the tops of his cheeks. He leaned his head back and slightly to the right against his hand, suddenly the very image of relaxation. Angel breathed. He took the picture. He zoomed in on Spike's face and took another.
"Open your mouth," Angel said softly. "Just a little."
Spike's lips parted naturally, as though he were asleep. Angel took three more pictures, at varying zoom levels. "That's perfect," he said.
Spike smiled faintly. Angel took another picture.
"Feel like a model?" Angel asked.
Spike glanced up at him and winked. Angel snapped a picture. Spike grinned, and Angel took another one. He snapped a few more as Spike stretched lazily against the couch.
"You look like one," Angel said. Spike huffed a self-deprecating laugh. "No, really," Angel said seriously, taking another picture. "If you had on better clothes, you could be in a magazine." Spike frowned up at Angel and was rewarded with several flashes. Angel chuckled. "Never could teach you to dress well."
Spike glared and held up two fingers. The camera flashed away.
"I do like your shirt, though."
Staring defiantly at Angel, Spike began to unbutton the blue shirt. Angel shook his head, amused. He continued to take pictures as Spike undid each button, then shrugged out of it, one shoulder at a time. The camera clicked and flashed as Spike balled the blue shirt into a ball and threw it at Angel's head. Angel ducked, and the shirt sailed by, landing on the floor a few feet away. Spike was wearing a black tanktop underneath. He crossed his arms smugly over his chest.
"That was mature, Spike," Angel said, clicking another picture. "Good thing I hate your pants, or they'd be flying at me next."
Spike rolled his eyes, which Angel captured digitally.
"Lie down," Angel said. He took a couple of pictures as Spike changed position, distracted by the idea of the blond without pants. Spike lay on his back with his hands behind his head, one leg stretched out while the other was bent at the knee so that his foot could rest on the couch. He glanced up, waiting for approval from the photographer. Angel nodded slightly, then took a few full-length shots of his subject, afterwards focusing on individual parts.
He lingered at the tiny patch of soft golden hair in Spike's armpit. A few moments later, he turned the camera on its tripod to focus on Spike's feet.
"Take your boots off," he said.
Spike sat up and tugged off his boots. He glanced at Angel, who was photographing away, and Angel signaled for him to keep going, so he pulled off his socks as well, dropping them on top of his boots. Angel took a picture of them. On a whim, he retrieved Spike's blue shirt and dropped it next to the boots and socks, taking a picture of the whole pile. Spike raised an eyebrow. Angel shrugged.
"Lie back down," he said. "Cross your ankles." After a moment, he said, "Now put your feet flat on the couch." Spike drew his knees up and did as Angel said. Angel carried the tripod closer and continued to take pictures. "Go like this," he said, curling his toes against the floor. Spike looked at Angel's bare feet, then curled his toes, scrunching the red satin. "Good..." Angel said.
Click click click. Click.
They went on like this for some time, the low music only interrupted by Angel's voice telling Spike how to pose and the click of the camera as he took several pictures of him in each position. He was very glad that he was using a digital camera so that he didn't have to bother with film. He couldn't wait to go back through all the pictures on his laptop.
Angel couldn't remember Spike ever being this quiet or obedient before. He was trying to think of a way to approach the subject of more intimate photos when Spike yawned.
Angel took a picture of his mouth. "Bored?" he asked.
Spike wobbled his hand back and forth in the air.
"We can stop if you want," Angel said reluctantly. "I mean, I know this can't be very exciting for you."
Spike looked at Angel curiously.
"Not that it's exciting for me," Angel hurriedly added. "Don't worry, I'm not excited by you."
Spike raised an eyebrow.
"Not that you're not an exciting person," he went on, suddenly flustered. "I think you're exciting; I'm just not excited by you right now." He shook his head. "I'm not saying you excite me at other times... I mean, you get that, right?" He looked at Spike helplessly.
The corner of Spike's mouth twitched in an amused smile.
"What I'm trying to say," Angel clarified, "is that we don't have to go any further. That's all." His throat had gone dry.
Further? Spike mouthed. He tilted his head.
"You know," Angel said, not quite blushing, "like when I used to draw you." He looked down at the camera, fiddling with the zoom. He didn't actually say the word naked, but he was probably thinking it loud enough for Spike to hear. He looked back up to gauge Spike's reaction. "You were very..." He paused. "Very beautiful."
Spike's gaze shifted away from Angel.
Angel sighed. "You still are," he admitted. "Sometimes. When you're fighting, or when you've just killed something. Or like now, when you're not talking." In the still moments after he said this, Angel watched Spike's eyes through the camera viewfinder.
Spike was staring off at nothing, a conflicted look on his face.
"Never mind," Angel suddenly said. "That was enough. More than enough." Spike glanced back at him. "Thanks for doing this," Angel said, not meeting his eyes. "You can go now."
Spike hesitated before he sat up to reach for his socks. Angel had turned his back to the couch, his left hand rubbing absentmindedly at the side of his neck. Spike's hand paused in mid-reach. He sat there and watched Angel's back, the way his broad shoulders narrowed down to his waist in the white tank top, the curve of his butt beneath his pajama pants, how his right hand hung limp at his side.
"Don't forget your coat," Angel said, turning back around and gesturing to Spike's duster, which he knew Spike wouldn't forget, but he couldn't think of anything else to say. He was startled to find Spike staring at him from the couch. "What?" he asked.
Spike stood. He walked over and took Angel's good hand, placing it back on top of the camera. Then he sat on the couch again.
Angel raised his eyebrows. "You mean... you want to keep going?" he asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.
A look of uncertainty flashed across Spike's face, but a second later it was replaced with a tentative smile as Spike rested one hand on his stomach, sliding his fingers coyly beneath his black tank top and drawing the material up just enough to show his lower abs. His eyes met Angel's.
"Okay," Angel breathed. "Good." He cleared his throat. "That's... very good." He quickly repositioned the camera and took a picture of the strip of white skin showing between the blacks of Spike's jeans and top.
Angel took more pictures as Spike pulled his shirt up higher, slowly revealing first one nipple and then the other. The blond lowered his eyes and let his hand rub sensuously across his bare stomach and chest, fingers bumping over the pale pink nubs. He looked up at the photographer from underneath dark eyelashes.
Angel captured the look Spike gave him. It was half lustful, half shy. He couldn't tell how much of it was put on for the camera, but he could feel his cock swelling all the same, the slow rhythm of the soft jazz pulsing through his body. "Why don't you take that off?" he suggested quietly, indicating Spike's shirt, still not entirely certain he would do it.
Spike slipped the dark material off over his head, to the accompaniment of whirs and clicks from Angel's camera. He dropped it on top of the pile with his boots and blue shirt, which Angel took another picture of, careful to record the addition. Spike let his hands roam slowly over his skin, alternately giving Angel sly looks and closing his eyes as though Angel and the camera weren't there at all and he was just enjoying some time alone with his body.
Angel swallowed hard. He wasn't sure how far Spike was willing to go, but he was definitely going to take advantage of the moment. "Unbutton your jeans," he murmured, feeling his dick twitch as Spike's hands moved to comply.
Spike undid the button, sliding a hand down his flat stomach so that his fingertips slipped just underneath the edge of the denim. He bit his lip and glanced at Angel, his other hand sweeping back up his chest, cupping over one pec and flicking at the nipple with his thumb.
Click click. Click.
"Now the zipper," Angel directed softly. He took three pictures as Spike slowly lowered his zipper, eyes on Angel the whole time. Angel shifted almost imperceptibly from one foot to the other, the teasing looks from the blond arousing him nearly as much as the actual stripping. He briefly wondered if his erection were very obvious in his pajama pants and figured it probably was. He almost had himself convinced it was because he hadn't been able to use his right hand lately, but then Spike pulled open his fly without further prompting, and Angel immediately abandoned that theory. He took several more pictures.
Spike was wearing charcoal grey boxer-briefs. Angel had not expected him to be wearing anything under his jeans, but the way the underwear clung to him - and especially the way that Spike ran his hand over the front of it, sighing and closing his eyes for a moment, then looking up at Angel - convinced Angel that it was as sexy as wearing nothing. Maybe even more so, because it was hiding Spike's sex but showing it off at the same time. He could clearly see the outline of the half-hard cock lying beneath the snug material.
"Stand up," Angel breathed. Spike stood up and started to push his pants down, but Angel stopped him. "I want you to get on your knees on the couch," he said. "And look back over your shoulder."
Spike turned away from Angel and did as he was told, settling onto his knees with one arm resting on the back of the couch, while he sat on his feet and looked at Angel over his shoulder. So beautiful, Angel thought as he snapped more photos. His back muscles, the soles of his feet, that pale skin set off by black denim and red satin. Angel studied the gap between Spike's back and the waistband of his unfastened jeans. He wanted to be in that gap. He wanted to make Spike make that contented face he'd drawn all those times.
"Okay," he said. "Stand up again."
Spike stood and started to push his pants down, pausing to raise an eyebrow at Angel.
"Yeah, go ahead," Angel said.
Spike pushed the jeans off his hips and down while the camera recorded his movements. He stepped neatly out of them and dropped them on top of his other clothes, which Angel took a picture of.
"Lie down on your stomach," Angel told him.
Spike got back on the couch in just his grey shorts and lay on his stomach on the soft red satin, pillowing his head on folded arms. He closed his eyes.
Angel didn't go over to the couch and run his hand over Spike's smooth skin, or slip his fingers beneath the waistband of Spike's underwear. He didn't touch Spike's cheek or press his lips to the back of Spike's neck. He resisted all impulses to approach the nearly nude figure on the couch, and just pressed the button on the top of his camera, recording the moment as his limp right hand moved over his crotch, unable to do anything more than bump against his hard on. He clenched his teeth in frustration, letting his hand fall back down to his side.
Spike opened one eye but shut it again quickly. Angel thought the blond had looked at the front of his pajamas, but he couldn't be sure.
"Spread your legs a little," Angel said. Saying the words made the back of his neck tingle.
Spike's thighs slid open, hips thrusting slightly against the shiny red cloth. Angel swallowed as he watched Spike's hips repeat the thrusting motion under the pretense of getting more comfortable. Spike turned his head, facing the back of the couch as though Angel weren't even there. Then, very deliberately, he ground his pelvis against the couch again, snug shorts conforming to the dimple that appeared on his buttocks with the movement.
Angel heard Spike breathe a soft sigh and nearly forgot he was supposed to be photographing. He took several pictures in rapid succession. "Roll over," he said, needing to see the effect the blond's thrusting had had on his body.
Spike rolled onto his back, still facing away from the clicking camera. He kept one arm tucked beneath his head, the other sliding down his lean torso, hand stopping just short of the dark grey material that hugged his now fully-formed erection.
"Look at me," Angel said softly.
Spike slowly turned his head toward the camera. He raised his eyes to meet Angel's, the energy crackling between them almost as low and sexual as the jazz filling the rest of the space in the room.
"I want you to touch yourself," the older vampire quietly stated.
At first, Spike didn't move. Angel waited, wondering for one desperate moment if Spike had just been leading him on, if the blond had no intention of going through with anything. Then, still looking into Angel's eyes, Spike moved his hand.
Angel flicked his gaze down to the model's fingers, which were trailing lightly over the defined bulge in his underwear. Spike's hand moved slowly, fingertips dragging back and forth across his concealed erection, soft touches designed to tease both Angel and himself.
Angel watched, mesmerized by the pale fingers with silver rings against the dark grey background. He took several pictures as the fingers slid lightly along Spike's length, his own cock stiff and jealous of the attention Spike's was getting. He ignored it.
"Do it harder," Angel said.
Immediately, Spike's palm came down, rubbing at himself more forcefully through the fabric. His hips thrust upward a tiny bit, but he still held back a little, not grasping, but rolling his hand across his dick where it lay trapped against his body. He went on rubbing as he bit his lower lip, looking to Angel for further instructions.
"God, that's pretty," breathed Angel, recording the image of Spike's lip caught between his teeth. "Touch your chest."
Spike's unoccupied hand moved from beneath his head down his chest, palming over his nipples, which were still perky from earlier stimulation. Spike flicked at them with his roaming fingers, pinching first one and then the other with a glance at Angel.
Angel swallowed, watching intently as Spike touched himself. He clicked a few more pictures, mostly of Spike's hands with their silver rings shining, one at his crotch and the other on his chest, both moving sensuously against his body. His own hand moved to the front of his pants again, again frustrating him when he remembered he couldn't do anything with it. Angel dropped his useless right hand to his side with a sigh.
Spike saw Angel's attempt to use his injured hand. He stopped moving his own hands for a moment, watching the photographer with an inscrutable look.
"Keep going," Angel encouraged softly.
There was a significant pause. Then Spike shook his head.
"Why? What's wrong?" Angel asked.
Spike sat up, placing his bare feet on the floor. Eyes on Angel, he jerked his head back slightly, beckoning the photographer to come forward.
Angel opened his mouth to say something, then stopped. He blinked. He glanced down at the camera and back up at Spike uncertainly.
Spike held up a hand and beckoned Angel again with his fingers. When Angel hesitated, Spike pointed at him, then pointed insistently at the floor between his own feet.
After another long glance at the camera, Angel stepped around the tripod and approached the couch slowly. He stopped when he stood in the spot in front of Spike that the blond had pointed at. His crotch was at about Spike's eye-level, his hardness tenting the dark blue fabric. He swallowed self-consciously, trying not to breathe as he looked down at Spike. The jazz CD stopped and then started over.
There was a tiny grin playing at the corner of Spike's mouth when he looked up at Angel's face, the older vampire standing there nervously, waiting to see what would happen. Very slowly, Spike reached out to touch him, laying one hand against Angel's hip, the other resting against his inner thigh. He held Angel still as he raised his lower hand, the backs of his fingers trailing smoothly up and over the bulge in Angel's pants and then down again, caressing his cock with the same soft, teasing motions he'd used on his own just minutes before. He did this a few more times while Angel watched, brown eyes darker than usual.
Angel's knees trembled with the effort to hold himself perfectly still under the light touches. He started breathing without meaning to. "More," he said softly. "Please."
At Angel's words, both of Spike's hands reached for the waistband of his pajama pants, fingertips tucking inside as he eased the cloth down, freeing Angel's erection. It bobbed in the air as Angel stepped out of his pants, leaving them pooled on the floor. Then Spike stood up, catching the bottom of Angel's tank top and dragging it up his body. Angel raised his arms so that Spike could pull it off of him and drop it to the floor.
Standing in front of the naked vampire, Spike looked down at Angel's chest, the bruises there and on his side still dark even after five days. He touched the darkest one very softly, tracing his fingertips around the edge. He let his hand slide lower, following the hurt with his fingers over Angel's flat stomach. Then he trailed his fingertips down the thin line of hairs below Angel's navel, sifting them through the thicker patch at the base of Angel's stiff cock. Still looking down between them, he wrapped his fingers around it.
Angel inhaled sharply, and Spike glanced up at his face. The brunet smiled sheepishly. "Your rings are cold," he whispered. Spike moved his hand away to take the rings off, but Angel stopped him. "It's okay," he said. "I like it."
Spike smirked and returned his hand to Angel's dick, grasping it securely and slowly tugging up and down a few times, foreskin moving with his grip. Angel closed his eyes, tilting back his head as Spike's thumb slid across the tip. "God..." Angel breathed.
Spike's other hand came up to the side of Angel's neck where it joined his shoulder, pushing him a bit as he turned, guiding the larger body to turn with him so that Angel's back was to the couch. His other hand let go of Angel to rest on his other shoulder, pressing lightly on both shoulders until Angel sat down on the red satin, leaning back against the silky material as he looked up at Spike with lustful eyes.
Spike climbed onto the couch with Angel, kneeling above him with one leg on either side of Angel's thighs, then settled his body down to sit on Angel's lap. He leaned forward, resting one hand on the back of the couch above Angel's shoulder, the other reaching between them to take hold of Angel's cock again. He bit his bottom lip as he drew his hand up and down the hard length tightly, feeling the head dampen with each stroke.
"Mmm," Angel sighed, closing his eyes again. His left hand slid up Spike's thigh, fingertips edging beneath the dark grey of Spike's underwear. He wanted to do something for the blond in return, but his right hand was good for nothing, and his left was awkward at best. He nevertheless moved his hand to the front of Spike's shorts, opening his eyes to find the firm bulge and rub over it with clumsy fingers.
Spike slid forward a little more on Angel's lap, his knees touching the back of the couch. Their wrists brushed against each other as they continued to stroke one another, both vampires looking down in between them at their moving hands. Angel leaned closer to see the damp spot beginning to discolor the material over Spike's crotch, and his forehead came to rest against the blond's. For one moment, their eyes locked on each other, blue and brown both dark and intense, and Spike twisted his grip over the head of Angel's cock, making Angel's involuntary breath hitch in his throat. Then Spike looked down again, and Angel looked at Spike's mouth, his lips parted and the tip of his tongue just visible pushed into the corner.
Angel swallowed. Spike's hand glided up and down his shaft, slickened with the wetness that pooled at the tip until his thumb slid over it. Angel wanted to thrust into the fingers wrapped tight around him but was trapped under Spike's weight. "Faster," he breathed. As Spike's hand sped up, he added, "Christ, that feels so good."
Spike said nothing, his tongue still poking into the corner of his mouth as he watched Angel's stomach muscles tense and relax while he breathed and tried not to thrust into Spike's hand.
Angel kept watching Spike's mouth. Without warning, he leaned forward and took Spike's bottom lip in a soft kiss. The younger vampire's hand stopped completely for a second, then began jerking Angel's cock a bit more enthusiastically as he returned the surprise kiss, Angel's left hand moving up behind his neck to pull him closer. Their mouths moved wetly against each other for several long moments until Angel finally pulled back to murmur, "Fuck, I'm gonna come..."
Spike looked down to watch as Angel closed his eyes, their foreheads resting against each other again. Angel's kiss-pinkened lips fell open as he began to come with a soft moan, a few jets of sticky white shooting into the air and then landing on Spike's thighs, the rest dribbling out over Spike's fist as he worked the trembling vampire down from climax.
Angel slumped light-headed against the back of the couch, breathing deeply. He smiled a little shakily at Spike, who returned the small smile briefly before regarding his messy hand with a somewhat amused expression. He glanced around the room, eyes settling on Angel's white tanktop, which lay on the floor beside the couch. In a feat of acrobatics that Angel's hazy post-orgasmic mind found pretty neat, Spike leaned backwards over the edge of the couch, grabbed the shirt, and sat back up, using it to wipe his hand and his thighs clean, which Angel didn't find quite as neat. Spike also wiped Angel's softening penis, which Angel found pleasant.
Angel also found that Spike still had a hard-on, and they both looked at it regretfully as it pushed out the front of his underwear. Spike sighed, dropping the soiled shirt to the floor. Angel patted his thigh. "Stand up," he said.
Spike backed off of Angel's lap and stood on the floor in front of the couch. Angel leaned forward, reaching for the waistband of Spike's shorts with his good hand. He tugged down one side, glancing up at Spike's face, and Spike obligingly pushed down the other side until the grey material was pooled at his feet. He stepped out of it, kicking it into the pile with the rest of their clothes. His cock now stood out from his body, curved slightly up, and he looked down at Angel with a curious expression.
Angel wrapped his fingers around Spike's shaft, squeezing it lightly to get used to the feel. He gave it a couple of slow tugs, hearing Spike inhale deeply as he watched. A drop of clear fluid started to form at the tip, and Angel studied it until it looked like it might roll down. Then he leaned forward and kissed it away, licking his lips after.
"Fuck," Spike whispered reverently.
Suddenly, Angel heard a high-pitched beeping noise. He looked up, startled, at the blond.
"Fuck," Spike repeated, this time sounding annoyed. He reached up to scratch behind his ear, then held the little beeping bug out for Angel to see. It had a tiny red light on it that was glowing. "That's one way to ruin a moment, eh? Bloody watcher." He used his fingernail to press something on the bug, which stopped the sound and made the light go dim. Then he walked a few feet away to place it on an end table, coming back to stand in front of Angel again. "Sorry about that. You can..." He gestured for Angel to go on doing what he'd been doing.
Angel stared at Spike, horrified. "What was... was Wesley -- did he, while I... and you were -- He was listening?" Angel sputtered.
Spike chuckled at Angel's distress. "Nah," he said. "Percy couldn't listen in on me all the time - wouldn't get any work done. Had that little gadget, what do you call it, calibrated. To recognize my voice."
Angel still looked rattled.
"Look, it just marks down the time if I say something," Spike explained. "That nitwit was paying me a load of cash for every eight hours I could keep my 'asinine comments' to myself. Don't worry about it." He huffed a small laugh. "'Course it would be you who got me to talk."
Angel almost grinned, then suddenly furrowed his brow. "A tiny bug that can be calibrated to recognize a specific person's voice? That sounds expensive."
Spike looked vaguely guilty.
"Exactly how much did we spend to keep you quiet?" Angel asked.
"Best you don't know, pet." At Angel's silence, Spike added, "Take it out of my pay, alright? Now can we...?" He gestured down.
Angel sighed and took hold of Spike's cock again. He didn't point out that Spike didn't actually receive a paycheck like everyone else. He leaned forward, resolving to talk to Wesley about proper use of company resources when he went back to work, and swiped his tongue along Spike's damp slit, eliciting a soft gasp from the blond. He did it again, licking away salty precum and swallowing. He glanced up to see Spike watching him with dark eyes and parted his lips wide, letting the whole head slip inside. He closed his mouth around it and sucked gently.
"Bloody hell," Spike murmured, sliding his fingers into Angel's dark hair as he looked down. "That's hot."
Angel let it slide back out and then in again, slick with his saliva, just the crown fucking into his mouth. He pumped Spike's shaft awkwardly with his hand a few times, then let go, moving to grasp Spike's hip and pull him closer. He took Spike deeper into his mouth, swishing his tongue from side to side as he sucked.
"Yeah..." Spike breathed.
Angel pulled back, the tip of Spike's erection resting against his bottom lip. It moved with his mouth as he said, "Here, lie down." He flicked his tongue against the slit once more, then stood up.
Spike got onto the couch, lying on his back against the cool satin, and waited. Angel started to get on the couch as well, but had a sudden idea and stopped. He quickly stepped over to the camera and took a few more pictures of Spike, now fully naked, his dick hard and pointing up against his belly. Angel smiled. Spike chuckled. "Poof," he said quietly. "Come here."
Angel walked back over to the couch and knelt on it, one knee on either side of Spike's legs. He bent forward and rested his weight on his elbows on either side of Spike's body, leaning down to brush his lips over Spike's softly. He pressed a kiss to the corner of Spike's mouth, then moved down, kissing a trail over his neck, chest, and belly, making his way back to the hard length waiting for him below. One slow lick from base to tip along the underside of it caused a bead of precum to leak out, which dripped onto Spike's stomach. Spike exhaled slowly.
Angel licked up the drop from Spike's belly, then slid the cockhead between his lips, sucking more of the salty fluid into his mouth. He swallowed, hearing Spike curse softly, and then began to move his head up and down in a slow rhythm, allowing more and more of the shaft to enter his throat.
Spike shifted beneath him, one hand coming down to rest in Angel's hair. Angel thought about the picture the two of them must make, him naked on all fours sucking Spike's dick while he lay on a satin-covered couch. The image made him smile around the flesh in his mouth. He wished he could have a photo of this.
"Angel," Spike moaned softly.
Hearing his name said that way made Angel's cock twitch interestedly.
"Faster..." the blond murmured.
Angel raised and lowered his head faster, sucking a bit harder as he backed off. Spike bit his bottom lip, his other hand coming to rest in Angel's hair as well. Angel wiggled his tongue.
"Yeah, do that..." Spike requested, his voice tight. "Christ, I'm - ahh - close..."
Suddenly, Spike's fingers tightened in Angel's hair, his body going rigid as he came inside Angel's wet mouth. Several short bursts of flavor hit the back of Angel's throat, which he swallowed reflexively, trying not to chuckle at the string of curses that flooded out of Spike's mouth as he orgasmed.
Afterwards, Spike slumped against the couch, his breathing ragged. Angel licked at his softening cock a moment longer, then moved up Spike's body and also slumped, his head against Spike's chest. Spike put an arm over his eyes, the other resting on Angel's back. Neither said anything.
Finally, Spike murmured, "You're hard again."
"Just ignore it," Angel said, his mouth moving against Spike's skin. "That's what I do."
"That is very sad," Spike commented with a yawn.
"Mm," grunted Angel, closing his eyes.
There was a pause. Then, "If you're hard in the morning, I'll help you with it." There was another pause. "If you want me to stay, that is."
Angel didn't say anything, but he didn't move either, so they continued to lay there on the couch.
"You look bloody gorgeous with my cock in your mouth," Spike said.
"Shut up," said Angel.
"Just thought you should know."
"Go to sleep."
"Haven't spoken in four days. Feels nice."
Angel slowly lifted his left hand to Spike's face and put it over his mouth. He felt Spike smile.
*
Angel woke up about two hours later. He was still lying half on top of Spike, and he sat up slowly, trying not to wake him. Spike shifted in his sleep, a small satisfied smile curving his lips.
Angel stood and padded silently over to the camera.
*
In the morning, Spike found the older vampire at the desk in his study.
"Don't look yet," Angel said, turning his laptop so Spike couldn't see the screen. "I'm just going to print one more, and then you can see them."
"You weren't up all night, were you?" Spike asked with a frown.
"I'm a vampire, Spike. Don't tell me you've forgotten as well."
Spike stretched. He was naked. "I'm a vampire, too, pet. Slept like an infant."
Angel smirked. "You mean you woke up and cried every two hours?"
Spike rolled his eyes, turning to leave the room. "You're low on blood," he said over his shoulder.
Angel watched Spike's bare ass as he walked towards the kitchen. "Because you keep drinking it," he called.
Without turning around, Spike held up two fingers at Angel behind his back.
*
When Angel was done printing his photos, he brought them into the kitchen. Spike had already heated up a mug of blood for him and was sitting at the table eating his own breakfast, which appeared to be leftover casserole covered in blood. Spike was also wearing a pair of Angel's pajama pants low on his hips, the drawstring valiantly trying to hold them up.
"How's the hand today?" Spike asked him.
"It's fine," Angel answered without thinking. "I want to show you these." He sat down at the table, glancing at the little cactus. The soil was damp. Spike must have watered it.
"I took some pictures yesterday before lunch. I was looking at that book you brought me, and I kind of got inspired. What you said about finding beauty... I couldn't stop thinking about it. It was really... smart."
"I'm a smart bloke," Spike said.
Angel looked skeptical, but he went on, "Anyway, these... these are the ones I took." He placed the first color photo on the table in front of Spike. It was a large white flower that filled up the whole sheet. It was one from the bouquet that Fred, Wesley, and Gunn had sent, the petals firm and almost greenish, tiny veins threading through the blossom in an intricate pattern. On one petal, though, there was an irregular brown spot that seemed to be the focus of the picture. "Part of what makes the flower beautiful is the fact that it won't last forever," Angel explained quietly. "In a few days, it's just going to be dead."
They both looked at the picture for a long moment. Then Angel placed the next one beside it. It was a close-up of the little green cactus, a large field of spines in perfect brown rows. The plant was waxy, flawless. "Part of the beauty of this one is that it will last forever," Angel said. "It will always be the same. Pretty much unchanged."
After an appropriate amount of time, Angel made some space next to the cactus photo and laid out an old drawing of his. It was yellowed with age, the edges worn thin. William grinned in his sleep from the paper, stretched naked on a bed. Next to this drawing, Angel placed the last photo: the one he'd taken of Spike in the middle of the night, naked and stretched on the couch. The positions and expressions were identical, the only difference being the length of the subject's hair. Spike studied them both intently, then looked up at Angel's face.
"You're like the cactus," Angel softly explained. "Constant. Unchanging. Beautiful. But it makes me wonder, what good is beauty that lasts forever if people don't... if I don't ever stop to appreciate it?" Angel glanced down at the drawing. "I wish I had looked at you more back then," he said. "I thought maybe... last night would make up for it a little..."
Spike looked at the drawing and each of the photos again. He didn't say anything.
Angel nudged him. "You can talk now, remember?"
Spike smiled a little. He started to say something, then stopped. After a moment, he finally said, "Good poets honor the silences as well as the words, peaches. Part of the beauty of poetry is in the line breaks." Angel didn't quite understand what he meant by this. Spike patted him on the back. "You said it better than I could," he said.
Angel smiled.
Spike picked up the photo of the cactus. He looked from it to the actual plant sitting there on the table and back again. "Print me up one of these," he said. "I'd like a copy."
Angel's smile broadened. "You like it?"
"You made it beautiful," Spike told him.
Angel shook his head. "No, it was beautiful by itself. I just took the photograph."
Spike gathered his used dishes and stood up. Leaning down toward Angel, he murmured, "You made it beautiful to me." Then he kissed the top of Angel's head and took the dishes to the sink, the ridiculously large pajama pants barely hanging onto his hips.
Angel watched him move.
*
END
Author: girlpire
Pairing: Spangel (Spike/Angel)
Summary: After an unfortunate battle with a demon, which resulted in his needing hand reattachment surgery, Angel is confined to his Wolfram and Hart apartment while he recovers. With help from the only other person who can really understand what he's going through, Angel begins to re-evaluate his personal definition of beauty.
Author Notes: This story was written for spring_spangel and is in two parts because i had two days. The first part was posted on April 7th. This is as close to hurt/comfort as I will probably ever be able to make myself write, although it doesn't really present itself as h/c, IMO. The complete story is rated NC17, and the NC17 bits are in this part, although they are kind of lame because i got lazy and porn doesn't come naturally to me. *sigh*
*
The Small Places, Part Two of Two
*
Angel walked around his apartment. He couldn't decide where he wanted to photograph Spike. He had called down to the office and asked for someone to bring him a tripod, and one had been sent up to the penthouse with a gift from Fred. He thought it would be a lot easier with the tripod because he wouldn't have to hold the camera awkwardly to push the button with his left hand, but now he couldn't figure out where to set it up.
He kept wandering back into the bedroom to look at his bed. He'd almost always drawn Spike lounging on a bed, or else sprawled on the floor in front of a fireplace, but he didn't want to set up the camera in the bedroom and risk Spike balking at the idea of posing on the bed. Anyway, setting up in the bedroom felt like he was assuming something.
Angel continued to wander around.
He'd always drawn Spike naked.
He wandered back into the bedroom.
*
By the time nine rolled around, Angel had just finished setting up. He still had on his dark blue pajama pants, but he'd also pulled on a white ribbed tanktop. It made him feel silly, but he was a little nervous, and he didn't really know why. It was only Spike, right?
He'd compromised and, instead of choosing the bedroom, had the tripod positioned in the den area facing the couch, which had a dark red satin cloth draped over it. He'd always liked the look of that color against Spike's pale skin. He had fiddled with the lights until he was happy, and he'd taken a few test shots to make sure everything looked right. He was nervous.
Spike came in a few minutes past nine. Angel met him at the door.
"Hi," he said.
Spike took one look at him and tried not to laugh.
"What?" Angel asked, left hand immediately going up to his hair.
Spike shook his head, then reached into his duster pocket and produced his notebook. He wrote, You're fucking nervous.
"No, I'm not," Angel said.
Don't be a stupid git, Spike wrote. It's just me.
"I'm not nervous," Angel said, annoyed.
Spike rolled his eyes.
"Have you eaten?" Angel asked.
Spike shook his head, dropping the notebook back in his pocket.
"Come on." He led Spike into the kitchen. "I'm not hungry, but you know where everything is."
Spike opened the refrigerator as Angel sat down at the table. He bent to look inside, then looked over his shoulder at Angel and raised an eyebrow.
"Oh yeah, Fred sent a casserole," Angel said. "You can have it, if you want."
Spike shrugged and took the casserole out of the fridge, popping it into the microwave and starting it. He began opening and closing drawers.
"Forks are..." Angel paused. "I don't actually know where," he said. "But I think I have one."
Spike found one and held it up.
"Right," Angel said.
When the microwave beeped, Spike brought the food over to the table and sat with Angel. He began to eat.
Angel watched him. "I think she forgot I don't eat human food," he said. He watched Spike's lips. He watched Spike's jaw. He watched Spike's eyelashes.
Spike glanced up. He made a What are you gawking at? face.
Angel didn't look away. He felt like he hadn't really looked at Spike in a long time. He studied Spike's face, rediscovering the beauty that lurked in the small places there, the crinkles beside his eyes, the corner of his mouth. He was eager to record them.
Spike ate another few bites, fully aware of Angel watching him. Then he put the fork down.
"Finished?" asked Angel. There was still quite a bit left.
Spike nodded.
"Come in here," Angel said, standing. He walked into the den, and Spike followed him. All of the furniture had been moved to one side of the room, the satin-covered couch standing alone on the other side under the lights. Angel had left some soft jazz playing, just so the room wouldn't be too quiet. He walked over to the tripod.
Spike hovered near the door.
Angel wondered briefly if he were nervous. "It's just me," he said.
Spike gave him a look. He walked confidently up to the couch, then stopped again. He glanced up at Angel.
Angel took a picture and smiled at Spike's expression. "Take off your coat," he said quietly. As Spike shrugged slowly out of his duster, letting it slide down his arms, Angel took two more pictures.
Spike chuckled. He folded the coat over his arm, and Angel snapped that too. Then Angel stepped forward and took it from Spike, walking across the room to drape the coat over the back of a chair. He came back to the tripod and took another picture of Spike just standing there, his hands in the back pockets of his jeans.
"You do have other clothes," Angel noticed.
Spike was wearing a dark blue button-down shirt. He shrugged.
"Have a seat," Angel told him. "Is it new?"
Spike sat in the middle of the couch, his knees spread apart. His hands rested near his crotch. Angel took a picture of his hands, silver rings shining beside black denim. Spike shook his head.
"I've never seen you wear it," Angel said. He took a picture of the folds of the shirt near Spike's lap. He took an extreme close-up of a button. He took a picture of Spike's feet set wide apart. One of his boots was untied.
"Put your hand up behind your head," Angel directed. "No, just one."
Spike put one hand behind his head, letting the other rest in his lap. He was staring at the camera.
"Try to relax," Angel said. "You look like a deer in headlights."
Spike glared at Angel.
Angel snapped a picture. "Well, that was more like you, anyway," he muttered. "Why don't you turn your head a little - don't look at the camera. In fact, close your eyes."
Spike did as Angel said, his eyelashes just brushing the tops of his cheeks. He leaned his head back and slightly to the right against his hand, suddenly the very image of relaxation. Angel breathed. He took the picture. He zoomed in on Spike's face and took another.
"Open your mouth," Angel said softly. "Just a little."
Spike's lips parted naturally, as though he were asleep. Angel took three more pictures, at varying zoom levels. "That's perfect," he said.
Spike smiled faintly. Angel took another picture.
"Feel like a model?" Angel asked.
Spike glanced up at him and winked. Angel snapped a picture. Spike grinned, and Angel took another one. He snapped a few more as Spike stretched lazily against the couch.
"You look like one," Angel said. Spike huffed a self-deprecating laugh. "No, really," Angel said seriously, taking another picture. "If you had on better clothes, you could be in a magazine." Spike frowned up at Angel and was rewarded with several flashes. Angel chuckled. "Never could teach you to dress well."
Spike glared and held up two fingers. The camera flashed away.
"I do like your shirt, though."
Staring defiantly at Angel, Spike began to unbutton the blue shirt. Angel shook his head, amused. He continued to take pictures as Spike undid each button, then shrugged out of it, one shoulder at a time. The camera clicked and flashed as Spike balled the blue shirt into a ball and threw it at Angel's head. Angel ducked, and the shirt sailed by, landing on the floor a few feet away. Spike was wearing a black tanktop underneath. He crossed his arms smugly over his chest.
"That was mature, Spike," Angel said, clicking another picture. "Good thing I hate your pants, or they'd be flying at me next."
Spike rolled his eyes, which Angel captured digitally.
"Lie down," Angel said. He took a couple of pictures as Spike changed position, distracted by the idea of the blond without pants. Spike lay on his back with his hands behind his head, one leg stretched out while the other was bent at the knee so that his foot could rest on the couch. He glanced up, waiting for approval from the photographer. Angel nodded slightly, then took a few full-length shots of his subject, afterwards focusing on individual parts.
He lingered at the tiny patch of soft golden hair in Spike's armpit. A few moments later, he turned the camera on its tripod to focus on Spike's feet.
"Take your boots off," he said.
Spike sat up and tugged off his boots. He glanced at Angel, who was photographing away, and Angel signaled for him to keep going, so he pulled off his socks as well, dropping them on top of his boots. Angel took a picture of them. On a whim, he retrieved Spike's blue shirt and dropped it next to the boots and socks, taking a picture of the whole pile. Spike raised an eyebrow. Angel shrugged.
"Lie back down," he said. "Cross your ankles." After a moment, he said, "Now put your feet flat on the couch." Spike drew his knees up and did as Angel said. Angel carried the tripod closer and continued to take pictures. "Go like this," he said, curling his toes against the floor. Spike looked at Angel's bare feet, then curled his toes, scrunching the red satin. "Good..." Angel said.
Click click click. Click.
They went on like this for some time, the low music only interrupted by Angel's voice telling Spike how to pose and the click of the camera as he took several pictures of him in each position. He was very glad that he was using a digital camera so that he didn't have to bother with film. He couldn't wait to go back through all the pictures on his laptop.
Angel couldn't remember Spike ever being this quiet or obedient before. He was trying to think of a way to approach the subject of more intimate photos when Spike yawned.
Angel took a picture of his mouth. "Bored?" he asked.
Spike wobbled his hand back and forth in the air.
"We can stop if you want," Angel said reluctantly. "I mean, I know this can't be very exciting for you."
Spike looked at Angel curiously.
"Not that it's exciting for me," Angel hurriedly added. "Don't worry, I'm not excited by you."
Spike raised an eyebrow.
"Not that you're not an exciting person," he went on, suddenly flustered. "I think you're exciting; I'm just not excited by you right now." He shook his head. "I'm not saying you excite me at other times... I mean, you get that, right?" He looked at Spike helplessly.
The corner of Spike's mouth twitched in an amused smile.
"What I'm trying to say," Angel clarified, "is that we don't have to go any further. That's all." His throat had gone dry.
Further? Spike mouthed. He tilted his head.
"You know," Angel said, not quite blushing, "like when I used to draw you." He looked down at the camera, fiddling with the zoom. He didn't actually say the word naked, but he was probably thinking it loud enough for Spike to hear. He looked back up to gauge Spike's reaction. "You were very..." He paused. "Very beautiful."
Spike's gaze shifted away from Angel.
Angel sighed. "You still are," he admitted. "Sometimes. When you're fighting, or when you've just killed something. Or like now, when you're not talking." In the still moments after he said this, Angel watched Spike's eyes through the camera viewfinder.
Spike was staring off at nothing, a conflicted look on his face.
"Never mind," Angel suddenly said. "That was enough. More than enough." Spike glanced back at him. "Thanks for doing this," Angel said, not meeting his eyes. "You can go now."
Spike hesitated before he sat up to reach for his socks. Angel had turned his back to the couch, his left hand rubbing absentmindedly at the side of his neck. Spike's hand paused in mid-reach. He sat there and watched Angel's back, the way his broad shoulders narrowed down to his waist in the white tank top, the curve of his butt beneath his pajama pants, how his right hand hung limp at his side.
"Don't forget your coat," Angel said, turning back around and gesturing to Spike's duster, which he knew Spike wouldn't forget, but he couldn't think of anything else to say. He was startled to find Spike staring at him from the couch. "What?" he asked.
Spike stood. He walked over and took Angel's good hand, placing it back on top of the camera. Then he sat on the couch again.
Angel raised his eyebrows. "You mean... you want to keep going?" he asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.
A look of uncertainty flashed across Spike's face, but a second later it was replaced with a tentative smile as Spike rested one hand on his stomach, sliding his fingers coyly beneath his black tank top and drawing the material up just enough to show his lower abs. His eyes met Angel's.
"Okay," Angel breathed. "Good." He cleared his throat. "That's... very good." He quickly repositioned the camera and took a picture of the strip of white skin showing between the blacks of Spike's jeans and top.
Angel took more pictures as Spike pulled his shirt up higher, slowly revealing first one nipple and then the other. The blond lowered his eyes and let his hand rub sensuously across his bare stomach and chest, fingers bumping over the pale pink nubs. He looked up at the photographer from underneath dark eyelashes.
Angel captured the look Spike gave him. It was half lustful, half shy. He couldn't tell how much of it was put on for the camera, but he could feel his cock swelling all the same, the slow rhythm of the soft jazz pulsing through his body. "Why don't you take that off?" he suggested quietly, indicating Spike's shirt, still not entirely certain he would do it.
Spike slipped the dark material off over his head, to the accompaniment of whirs and clicks from Angel's camera. He dropped it on top of the pile with his boots and blue shirt, which Angel took another picture of, careful to record the addition. Spike let his hands roam slowly over his skin, alternately giving Angel sly looks and closing his eyes as though Angel and the camera weren't there at all and he was just enjoying some time alone with his body.
Angel swallowed hard. He wasn't sure how far Spike was willing to go, but he was definitely going to take advantage of the moment. "Unbutton your jeans," he murmured, feeling his dick twitch as Spike's hands moved to comply.
Spike undid the button, sliding a hand down his flat stomach so that his fingertips slipped just underneath the edge of the denim. He bit his lip and glanced at Angel, his other hand sweeping back up his chest, cupping over one pec and flicking at the nipple with his thumb.
Click click. Click.
"Now the zipper," Angel directed softly. He took three pictures as Spike slowly lowered his zipper, eyes on Angel the whole time. Angel shifted almost imperceptibly from one foot to the other, the teasing looks from the blond arousing him nearly as much as the actual stripping. He briefly wondered if his erection were very obvious in his pajama pants and figured it probably was. He almost had himself convinced it was because he hadn't been able to use his right hand lately, but then Spike pulled open his fly without further prompting, and Angel immediately abandoned that theory. He took several more pictures.
Spike was wearing charcoal grey boxer-briefs. Angel had not expected him to be wearing anything under his jeans, but the way the underwear clung to him - and especially the way that Spike ran his hand over the front of it, sighing and closing his eyes for a moment, then looking up at Angel - convinced Angel that it was as sexy as wearing nothing. Maybe even more so, because it was hiding Spike's sex but showing it off at the same time. He could clearly see the outline of the half-hard cock lying beneath the snug material.
"Stand up," Angel breathed. Spike stood up and started to push his pants down, but Angel stopped him. "I want you to get on your knees on the couch," he said. "And look back over your shoulder."
Spike turned away from Angel and did as he was told, settling onto his knees with one arm resting on the back of the couch, while he sat on his feet and looked at Angel over his shoulder. So beautiful, Angel thought as he snapped more photos. His back muscles, the soles of his feet, that pale skin set off by black denim and red satin. Angel studied the gap between Spike's back and the waistband of his unfastened jeans. He wanted to be in that gap. He wanted to make Spike make that contented face he'd drawn all those times.
"Okay," he said. "Stand up again."
Spike stood and started to push his pants down, pausing to raise an eyebrow at Angel.
"Yeah, go ahead," Angel said.
Spike pushed the jeans off his hips and down while the camera recorded his movements. He stepped neatly out of them and dropped them on top of his other clothes, which Angel took a picture of.
"Lie down on your stomach," Angel told him.
Spike got back on the couch in just his grey shorts and lay on his stomach on the soft red satin, pillowing his head on folded arms. He closed his eyes.
Angel didn't go over to the couch and run his hand over Spike's smooth skin, or slip his fingers beneath the waistband of Spike's underwear. He didn't touch Spike's cheek or press his lips to the back of Spike's neck. He resisted all impulses to approach the nearly nude figure on the couch, and just pressed the button on the top of his camera, recording the moment as his limp right hand moved over his crotch, unable to do anything more than bump against his hard on. He clenched his teeth in frustration, letting his hand fall back down to his side.
Spike opened one eye but shut it again quickly. Angel thought the blond had looked at the front of his pajamas, but he couldn't be sure.
"Spread your legs a little," Angel said. Saying the words made the back of his neck tingle.
Spike's thighs slid open, hips thrusting slightly against the shiny red cloth. Angel swallowed as he watched Spike's hips repeat the thrusting motion under the pretense of getting more comfortable. Spike turned his head, facing the back of the couch as though Angel weren't even there. Then, very deliberately, he ground his pelvis against the couch again, snug shorts conforming to the dimple that appeared on his buttocks with the movement.
Angel heard Spike breathe a soft sigh and nearly forgot he was supposed to be photographing. He took several pictures in rapid succession. "Roll over," he said, needing to see the effect the blond's thrusting had had on his body.
Spike rolled onto his back, still facing away from the clicking camera. He kept one arm tucked beneath his head, the other sliding down his lean torso, hand stopping just short of the dark grey material that hugged his now fully-formed erection.
"Look at me," Angel said softly.
Spike slowly turned his head toward the camera. He raised his eyes to meet Angel's, the energy crackling between them almost as low and sexual as the jazz filling the rest of the space in the room.
"I want you to touch yourself," the older vampire quietly stated.
At first, Spike didn't move. Angel waited, wondering for one desperate moment if Spike had just been leading him on, if the blond had no intention of going through with anything. Then, still looking into Angel's eyes, Spike moved his hand.
Angel flicked his gaze down to the model's fingers, which were trailing lightly over the defined bulge in his underwear. Spike's hand moved slowly, fingertips dragging back and forth across his concealed erection, soft touches designed to tease both Angel and himself.
Angel watched, mesmerized by the pale fingers with silver rings against the dark grey background. He took several pictures as the fingers slid lightly along Spike's length, his own cock stiff and jealous of the attention Spike's was getting. He ignored it.
"Do it harder," Angel said.
Immediately, Spike's palm came down, rubbing at himself more forcefully through the fabric. His hips thrust upward a tiny bit, but he still held back a little, not grasping, but rolling his hand across his dick where it lay trapped against his body. He went on rubbing as he bit his lower lip, looking to Angel for further instructions.
"God, that's pretty," breathed Angel, recording the image of Spike's lip caught between his teeth. "Touch your chest."
Spike's unoccupied hand moved from beneath his head down his chest, palming over his nipples, which were still perky from earlier stimulation. Spike flicked at them with his roaming fingers, pinching first one and then the other with a glance at Angel.
Angel swallowed, watching intently as Spike touched himself. He clicked a few more pictures, mostly of Spike's hands with their silver rings shining, one at his crotch and the other on his chest, both moving sensuously against his body. His own hand moved to the front of his pants again, again frustrating him when he remembered he couldn't do anything with it. Angel dropped his useless right hand to his side with a sigh.
Spike saw Angel's attempt to use his injured hand. He stopped moving his own hands for a moment, watching the photographer with an inscrutable look.
"Keep going," Angel encouraged softly.
There was a significant pause. Then Spike shook his head.
"Why? What's wrong?" Angel asked.
Spike sat up, placing his bare feet on the floor. Eyes on Angel, he jerked his head back slightly, beckoning the photographer to come forward.
Angel opened his mouth to say something, then stopped. He blinked. He glanced down at the camera and back up at Spike uncertainly.
Spike held up a hand and beckoned Angel again with his fingers. When Angel hesitated, Spike pointed at him, then pointed insistently at the floor between his own feet.
After another long glance at the camera, Angel stepped around the tripod and approached the couch slowly. He stopped when he stood in the spot in front of Spike that the blond had pointed at. His crotch was at about Spike's eye-level, his hardness tenting the dark blue fabric. He swallowed self-consciously, trying not to breathe as he looked down at Spike. The jazz CD stopped and then started over.
There was a tiny grin playing at the corner of Spike's mouth when he looked up at Angel's face, the older vampire standing there nervously, waiting to see what would happen. Very slowly, Spike reached out to touch him, laying one hand against Angel's hip, the other resting against his inner thigh. He held Angel still as he raised his lower hand, the backs of his fingers trailing smoothly up and over the bulge in Angel's pants and then down again, caressing his cock with the same soft, teasing motions he'd used on his own just minutes before. He did this a few more times while Angel watched, brown eyes darker than usual.
Angel's knees trembled with the effort to hold himself perfectly still under the light touches. He started breathing without meaning to. "More," he said softly. "Please."
At Angel's words, both of Spike's hands reached for the waistband of his pajama pants, fingertips tucking inside as he eased the cloth down, freeing Angel's erection. It bobbed in the air as Angel stepped out of his pants, leaving them pooled on the floor. Then Spike stood up, catching the bottom of Angel's tank top and dragging it up his body. Angel raised his arms so that Spike could pull it off of him and drop it to the floor.
Standing in front of the naked vampire, Spike looked down at Angel's chest, the bruises there and on his side still dark even after five days. He touched the darkest one very softly, tracing his fingertips around the edge. He let his hand slide lower, following the hurt with his fingers over Angel's flat stomach. Then he trailed his fingertips down the thin line of hairs below Angel's navel, sifting them through the thicker patch at the base of Angel's stiff cock. Still looking down between them, he wrapped his fingers around it.
Angel inhaled sharply, and Spike glanced up at his face. The brunet smiled sheepishly. "Your rings are cold," he whispered. Spike moved his hand away to take the rings off, but Angel stopped him. "It's okay," he said. "I like it."
Spike smirked and returned his hand to Angel's dick, grasping it securely and slowly tugging up and down a few times, foreskin moving with his grip. Angel closed his eyes, tilting back his head as Spike's thumb slid across the tip. "God..." Angel breathed.
Spike's other hand came up to the side of Angel's neck where it joined his shoulder, pushing him a bit as he turned, guiding the larger body to turn with him so that Angel's back was to the couch. His other hand let go of Angel to rest on his other shoulder, pressing lightly on both shoulders until Angel sat down on the red satin, leaning back against the silky material as he looked up at Spike with lustful eyes.
Spike climbed onto the couch with Angel, kneeling above him with one leg on either side of Angel's thighs, then settled his body down to sit on Angel's lap. He leaned forward, resting one hand on the back of the couch above Angel's shoulder, the other reaching between them to take hold of Angel's cock again. He bit his bottom lip as he drew his hand up and down the hard length tightly, feeling the head dampen with each stroke.
"Mmm," Angel sighed, closing his eyes again. His left hand slid up Spike's thigh, fingertips edging beneath the dark grey of Spike's underwear. He wanted to do something for the blond in return, but his right hand was good for nothing, and his left was awkward at best. He nevertheless moved his hand to the front of Spike's shorts, opening his eyes to find the firm bulge and rub over it with clumsy fingers.
Spike slid forward a little more on Angel's lap, his knees touching the back of the couch. Their wrists brushed against each other as they continued to stroke one another, both vampires looking down in between them at their moving hands. Angel leaned closer to see the damp spot beginning to discolor the material over Spike's crotch, and his forehead came to rest against the blond's. For one moment, their eyes locked on each other, blue and brown both dark and intense, and Spike twisted his grip over the head of Angel's cock, making Angel's involuntary breath hitch in his throat. Then Spike looked down again, and Angel looked at Spike's mouth, his lips parted and the tip of his tongue just visible pushed into the corner.
Angel swallowed. Spike's hand glided up and down his shaft, slickened with the wetness that pooled at the tip until his thumb slid over it. Angel wanted to thrust into the fingers wrapped tight around him but was trapped under Spike's weight. "Faster," he breathed. As Spike's hand sped up, he added, "Christ, that feels so good."
Spike said nothing, his tongue still poking into the corner of his mouth as he watched Angel's stomach muscles tense and relax while he breathed and tried not to thrust into Spike's hand.
Angel kept watching Spike's mouth. Without warning, he leaned forward and took Spike's bottom lip in a soft kiss. The younger vampire's hand stopped completely for a second, then began jerking Angel's cock a bit more enthusiastically as he returned the surprise kiss, Angel's left hand moving up behind his neck to pull him closer. Their mouths moved wetly against each other for several long moments until Angel finally pulled back to murmur, "Fuck, I'm gonna come..."
Spike looked down to watch as Angel closed his eyes, their foreheads resting against each other again. Angel's kiss-pinkened lips fell open as he began to come with a soft moan, a few jets of sticky white shooting into the air and then landing on Spike's thighs, the rest dribbling out over Spike's fist as he worked the trembling vampire down from climax.
Angel slumped light-headed against the back of the couch, breathing deeply. He smiled a little shakily at Spike, who returned the small smile briefly before regarding his messy hand with a somewhat amused expression. He glanced around the room, eyes settling on Angel's white tanktop, which lay on the floor beside the couch. In a feat of acrobatics that Angel's hazy post-orgasmic mind found pretty neat, Spike leaned backwards over the edge of the couch, grabbed the shirt, and sat back up, using it to wipe his hand and his thighs clean, which Angel didn't find quite as neat. Spike also wiped Angel's softening penis, which Angel found pleasant.
Angel also found that Spike still had a hard-on, and they both looked at it regretfully as it pushed out the front of his underwear. Spike sighed, dropping the soiled shirt to the floor. Angel patted his thigh. "Stand up," he said.
Spike backed off of Angel's lap and stood on the floor in front of the couch. Angel leaned forward, reaching for the waistband of Spike's shorts with his good hand. He tugged down one side, glancing up at Spike's face, and Spike obligingly pushed down the other side until the grey material was pooled at his feet. He stepped out of it, kicking it into the pile with the rest of their clothes. His cock now stood out from his body, curved slightly up, and he looked down at Angel with a curious expression.
Angel wrapped his fingers around Spike's shaft, squeezing it lightly to get used to the feel. He gave it a couple of slow tugs, hearing Spike inhale deeply as he watched. A drop of clear fluid started to form at the tip, and Angel studied it until it looked like it might roll down. Then he leaned forward and kissed it away, licking his lips after.
"Fuck," Spike whispered reverently.
Suddenly, Angel heard a high-pitched beeping noise. He looked up, startled, at the blond.
"Fuck," Spike repeated, this time sounding annoyed. He reached up to scratch behind his ear, then held the little beeping bug out for Angel to see. It had a tiny red light on it that was glowing. "That's one way to ruin a moment, eh? Bloody watcher." He used his fingernail to press something on the bug, which stopped the sound and made the light go dim. Then he walked a few feet away to place it on an end table, coming back to stand in front of Angel again. "Sorry about that. You can..." He gestured for Angel to go on doing what he'd been doing.
Angel stared at Spike, horrified. "What was... was Wesley -- did he, while I... and you were -- He was listening?" Angel sputtered.
Spike chuckled at Angel's distress. "Nah," he said. "Percy couldn't listen in on me all the time - wouldn't get any work done. Had that little gadget, what do you call it, calibrated. To recognize my voice."
Angel still looked rattled.
"Look, it just marks down the time if I say something," Spike explained. "That nitwit was paying me a load of cash for every eight hours I could keep my 'asinine comments' to myself. Don't worry about it." He huffed a small laugh. "'Course it would be you who got me to talk."
Angel almost grinned, then suddenly furrowed his brow. "A tiny bug that can be calibrated to recognize a specific person's voice? That sounds expensive."
Spike looked vaguely guilty.
"Exactly how much did we spend to keep you quiet?" Angel asked.
"Best you don't know, pet." At Angel's silence, Spike added, "Take it out of my pay, alright? Now can we...?" He gestured down.
Angel sighed and took hold of Spike's cock again. He didn't point out that Spike didn't actually receive a paycheck like everyone else. He leaned forward, resolving to talk to Wesley about proper use of company resources when he went back to work, and swiped his tongue along Spike's damp slit, eliciting a soft gasp from the blond. He did it again, licking away salty precum and swallowing. He glanced up to see Spike watching him with dark eyes and parted his lips wide, letting the whole head slip inside. He closed his mouth around it and sucked gently.
"Bloody hell," Spike murmured, sliding his fingers into Angel's dark hair as he looked down. "That's hot."
Angel let it slide back out and then in again, slick with his saliva, just the crown fucking into his mouth. He pumped Spike's shaft awkwardly with his hand a few times, then let go, moving to grasp Spike's hip and pull him closer. He took Spike deeper into his mouth, swishing his tongue from side to side as he sucked.
"Yeah..." Spike breathed.
Angel pulled back, the tip of Spike's erection resting against his bottom lip. It moved with his mouth as he said, "Here, lie down." He flicked his tongue against the slit once more, then stood up.
Spike got onto the couch, lying on his back against the cool satin, and waited. Angel started to get on the couch as well, but had a sudden idea and stopped. He quickly stepped over to the camera and took a few more pictures of Spike, now fully naked, his dick hard and pointing up against his belly. Angel smiled. Spike chuckled. "Poof," he said quietly. "Come here."
Angel walked back over to the couch and knelt on it, one knee on either side of Spike's legs. He bent forward and rested his weight on his elbows on either side of Spike's body, leaning down to brush his lips over Spike's softly. He pressed a kiss to the corner of Spike's mouth, then moved down, kissing a trail over his neck, chest, and belly, making his way back to the hard length waiting for him below. One slow lick from base to tip along the underside of it caused a bead of precum to leak out, which dripped onto Spike's stomach. Spike exhaled slowly.
Angel licked up the drop from Spike's belly, then slid the cockhead between his lips, sucking more of the salty fluid into his mouth. He swallowed, hearing Spike curse softly, and then began to move his head up and down in a slow rhythm, allowing more and more of the shaft to enter his throat.
Spike shifted beneath him, one hand coming down to rest in Angel's hair. Angel thought about the picture the two of them must make, him naked on all fours sucking Spike's dick while he lay on a satin-covered couch. The image made him smile around the flesh in his mouth. He wished he could have a photo of this.
"Angel," Spike moaned softly.
Hearing his name said that way made Angel's cock twitch interestedly.
"Faster..." the blond murmured.
Angel raised and lowered his head faster, sucking a bit harder as he backed off. Spike bit his bottom lip, his other hand coming to rest in Angel's hair as well. Angel wiggled his tongue.
"Yeah, do that..." Spike requested, his voice tight. "Christ, I'm - ahh - close..."
Suddenly, Spike's fingers tightened in Angel's hair, his body going rigid as he came inside Angel's wet mouth. Several short bursts of flavor hit the back of Angel's throat, which he swallowed reflexively, trying not to chuckle at the string of curses that flooded out of Spike's mouth as he orgasmed.
Afterwards, Spike slumped against the couch, his breathing ragged. Angel licked at his softening cock a moment longer, then moved up Spike's body and also slumped, his head against Spike's chest. Spike put an arm over his eyes, the other resting on Angel's back. Neither said anything.
Finally, Spike murmured, "You're hard again."
"Just ignore it," Angel said, his mouth moving against Spike's skin. "That's what I do."
"That is very sad," Spike commented with a yawn.
"Mm," grunted Angel, closing his eyes.
There was a pause. Then, "If you're hard in the morning, I'll help you with it." There was another pause. "If you want me to stay, that is."
Angel didn't say anything, but he didn't move either, so they continued to lay there on the couch.
"You look bloody gorgeous with my cock in your mouth," Spike said.
"Shut up," said Angel.
"Just thought you should know."
"Go to sleep."
"Haven't spoken in four days. Feels nice."
Angel slowly lifted his left hand to Spike's face and put it over his mouth. He felt Spike smile.
*
Angel woke up about two hours later. He was still lying half on top of Spike, and he sat up slowly, trying not to wake him. Spike shifted in his sleep, a small satisfied smile curving his lips.
Angel stood and padded silently over to the camera.
*
In the morning, Spike found the older vampire at the desk in his study.
"Don't look yet," Angel said, turning his laptop so Spike couldn't see the screen. "I'm just going to print one more, and then you can see them."
"You weren't up all night, were you?" Spike asked with a frown.
"I'm a vampire, Spike. Don't tell me you've forgotten as well."
Spike stretched. He was naked. "I'm a vampire, too, pet. Slept like an infant."
Angel smirked. "You mean you woke up and cried every two hours?"
Spike rolled his eyes, turning to leave the room. "You're low on blood," he said over his shoulder.
Angel watched Spike's bare ass as he walked towards the kitchen. "Because you keep drinking it," he called.
Without turning around, Spike held up two fingers at Angel behind his back.
*
When Angel was done printing his photos, he brought them into the kitchen. Spike had already heated up a mug of blood for him and was sitting at the table eating his own breakfast, which appeared to be leftover casserole covered in blood. Spike was also wearing a pair of Angel's pajama pants low on his hips, the drawstring valiantly trying to hold them up.
"How's the hand today?" Spike asked him.
"It's fine," Angel answered without thinking. "I want to show you these." He sat down at the table, glancing at the little cactus. The soil was damp. Spike must have watered it.
"I took some pictures yesterday before lunch. I was looking at that book you brought me, and I kind of got inspired. What you said about finding beauty... I couldn't stop thinking about it. It was really... smart."
"I'm a smart bloke," Spike said.
Angel looked skeptical, but he went on, "Anyway, these... these are the ones I took." He placed the first color photo on the table in front of Spike. It was a large white flower that filled up the whole sheet. It was one from the bouquet that Fred, Wesley, and Gunn had sent, the petals firm and almost greenish, tiny veins threading through the blossom in an intricate pattern. On one petal, though, there was an irregular brown spot that seemed to be the focus of the picture. "Part of what makes the flower beautiful is the fact that it won't last forever," Angel explained quietly. "In a few days, it's just going to be dead."
They both looked at the picture for a long moment. Then Angel placed the next one beside it. It was a close-up of the little green cactus, a large field of spines in perfect brown rows. The plant was waxy, flawless. "Part of the beauty of this one is that it will last forever," Angel said. "It will always be the same. Pretty much unchanged."
After an appropriate amount of time, Angel made some space next to the cactus photo and laid out an old drawing of his. It was yellowed with age, the edges worn thin. William grinned in his sleep from the paper, stretched naked on a bed. Next to this drawing, Angel placed the last photo: the one he'd taken of Spike in the middle of the night, naked and stretched on the couch. The positions and expressions were identical, the only difference being the length of the subject's hair. Spike studied them both intently, then looked up at Angel's face.
"You're like the cactus," Angel softly explained. "Constant. Unchanging. Beautiful. But it makes me wonder, what good is beauty that lasts forever if people don't... if I don't ever stop to appreciate it?" Angel glanced down at the drawing. "I wish I had looked at you more back then," he said. "I thought maybe... last night would make up for it a little..."
Spike looked at the drawing and each of the photos again. He didn't say anything.
Angel nudged him. "You can talk now, remember?"
Spike smiled a little. He started to say something, then stopped. After a moment, he finally said, "Good poets honor the silences as well as the words, peaches. Part of the beauty of poetry is in the line breaks." Angel didn't quite understand what he meant by this. Spike patted him on the back. "You said it better than I could," he said.
Angel smiled.
Spike picked up the photo of the cactus. He looked from it to the actual plant sitting there on the table and back again. "Print me up one of these," he said. "I'd like a copy."
Angel's smile broadened. "You like it?"
"You made it beautiful," Spike told him.
Angel shook his head. "No, it was beautiful by itself. I just took the photograph."
Spike gathered his used dishes and stood up. Leaning down toward Angel, he murmured, "You made it beautiful to me." Then he kissed the top of Angel's head and took the dishes to the sink, the ridiculously large pajama pants barely hanging onto his hips.
Angel watched him move.
*
END