Fic: "Mutual Obsession"

[strangecreature]

This is the sequel to "A Mutual Attraction"
Author: Strange Creature
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: m/m smut, language
Spoilers: AtS Season 5, up to “Origin”
Pairings: Lindsey/Spike
Summary: Lindsey and Spike actually work pretty well together… throw Angel into the mix, and things get messy.
Disclaimer: This is an amateur work of non-profit fanfiction. Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy rule all. Grr. Arrgh.
Dedication: Thank you to all of you who FB'd the first one so nicely and lured me further from my OTP! *g* (And a big thank you to menomegirl for the prompt beta. What would I do without you?)


* * *

Lindsey had a brief moment of panic as he woke up, believing for a second that he was back in the wine cellar, the lifeless bodies of his former co-workers inelegantly heaped around him. But the cool hand draped across his chest ended in nails tipped with chipped black polish, and Lindsey had to smile. As it turned out, Spike was indeed a big softie… in sleep at least. He’d curled up close, obviously enjoying the warmth of Lindsey’s body, his legs tangled with Lindsey’s own and his light hair a riot of curls. He looked like some kind of fallen angel, and Lindsey couldn’t resist the urge to run his thumb gently over Spike’s cheekbone. Blue eyes fluttered open, blinking sleepily.

“Mornin’, precious,” Spike mumbled against his throat, stretching like a cat. Lindsey chuckled, the sensation of Spike’s body moving against his an instant wake-up call.

“I was actually kind of hoping that nickname didn’t stick, if it’s all the same to you,” he replied. Spike had buried his head in the pillow, for all appearances having gone back to sleep. “Don’t you have work or something? It’s got to be nearly noon…” Spike rolled over to face him, propping his head on his hand and raising an eyebrow.

“What’re they gonna do? Fire me?”

“No. I guess not. But you should probably turn up eventually, or Angel’s gonna put two and two together,” Lindsey pointed out. Spike’s head tilted further and he grinned.

“You worried about me, then? I can take the old poof.”

“I know you can hold your own, Spike. I’d pretty much been counting on that,” Lindsey told him. Spike suddenly snapped his fingers.

“Right! Knew I forgot something last night,” he remarked, taking Lindsey by surprise as he pounced on him, pinning his hands roughly to the mattress. Spike glared at him, nose to nose. “You know I don’t like gettin' played, mate. Use me like that again, and I’ll drain you dry. Got it?” Lindsey nodded mutely, staring with entranced fascination as Spike’s tongue darted out to wet his lower lip. “There’s a good lad. You fancy a shower?”

“Well, that depends,” Lindsey told him, floating between the sensations of the warm mattress under him, and the cool vampire on top of his body. He wriggled a bit, making their mutual arousal evident. “You gonna be in it?” Spike grinned toothily.

“Goes without sayin’, precious.”

* * *

Angel pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes and wondering how often ‘normal’ vampires got headaches like this. “Please, Wes. Tell me you’re joking.”

“Unfortunately, I only wish that I were.” Wesley cleared his throat, and Angel could practically feel the nervous glance he exchanged with Lorne. “There’s no sign of Lindsey anywhere on the premises.”

“Look at the bright side, buttercup!” Lorne chimed in. “Since Magic Man here took care of Lindsey’s tattoos, the worst he can do is glare daggers at you with those pretty blue eyes of his… and I’m off topic, aren’t I?”

“What’s to say he won’t simply leave Los Angeles?” Wes pointed out. Angel shook his head.

“He won’t. The whole point of his existence is to make my life miserable,” Angel groaned, getting to his feet. Lorne chuckled.

“That’s funny, because this one time at Caritas he said the exact same thing about y…” Angel’s glare stopped Lorne mid-sentence. “You know, I’m just going to go wait outside. Toodles!” Lorne made his exit in a swirl of green and Day-Glo orange, unable to keep the smile off his face entirely.

“How long has he been missing?” Angel asked, pulling his favorite broadsword down from the wall.

“Since last night. It seems that the security guard re-gained consciousness after we’d gone home for the evening.” Wesley watched curiously as Angel twirled the blade in a lazy figure eight. “You intend to kill him?” Angel froze like he’d been caught trying on one of Harmony’s dresses, carefully setting the sword down on his desk.

“No. Of course not. Well…maybe,” he sighed. “Why can’t I, Wes?” Only a couple hundred years worth of reputation to protect kept him from stomping his foot with frustration.

“Lindsey is a valuable source of information, Angel. You can’t simply kill him off-hand.” Angel grimaced, choosing to ignore the inadvertent pun.

“Sneaky little bastard doesn’t know a thing. He practically said so himself.”

“Did anyone bother to question him further while he was in our custody?” Wes asked quietly. Angel opened his mouth, blinked, and closed it again.

“No,” he muttered. He sank back into his chair with a groan. “This is ridiculous. The universe hates me.”

“No,” Wesley murmured absently. “Though I do get the impression that it is rather indifferent to our existence.” Angel glanced up to find Wes staring out the window, the now-familiar lines of grief deepened with shadow. “I should get back.” Angel dug his thumbnail into the soft wood along the edge of his desk.

“It’s good that you’re taking some time away from her, Wes.” Angel got to his feet, and considered slinging his arm around Wesley’s shoulders as they headed for the door. A few years ago, he might’ve been able to. “I was just frustrated. The universe doesn’t hate us.” He tried his best to sound light-hearted, but cerulean-tainted image of the sweet girl they used to know lingered in his mind and made him honestly wonder. “Just a coincidence.” He swung the door open, holding it for Wes and following him out into the bustling lobby.

A startlingly familiar figure stepped out of the elevator, and it took a moment for Angel to recognize him in this context, without a sneer of hate marring his young face.

“Hey, dad!”

The universe hates me.

* * *

It was indeed half-past twelve by the time Lindsey and Spike had showered and dressed, among other things. Spike had assured him that Angel’s suspicion wouldn’t be aroused. “Don’t think half the blokes down there even realize I’m not all ghostly anymore. Not really a 9-to-5 type employee.”

Spike slung his duster over his shoulder, pausing with a hand on the doorknob. He looked back at Lindsey, who was sitting at the small kitchen table. “So. Where can I find you?” Lindsey blinked, halting in the process of pulling on his boots.

“When?”

“Tonight.” It wasn’t really a question, and it made Lindsey smile, feeling suddenly shy.

“I’ll be at my place. You know where it is. Odds are Eve will have headed for the hills already, if she’s smart.”

“I’d say I’m sorry… except that I’m not,” Spike replied, with his brand of blunt honesty that Lindsey found somewhat refreshing. Spike studied the floor intently for a moment, before closing the distance between them in two steps, pulling Lindsey up for a heated kiss. He combed his fingers through Lindsey’s damp hair, something almost gentle in his eyes, and so brief that it might have been imagined, before striding towards the door again. “You should eat something, mate.”

“Eat something?” Lindsey echoed, still a bit breathless. Spike grinned over his shoulder as he pulled the door open.

“It’s the latest thing. I hear all the cool mortals are doin’ it. See you tonight.” He slammed the door behind him, leaving Lindsey shaking his head in dazed amusement.

* * *

Eve was indeed gone by the time he reached the apartment, along with all of her things, and more than a few of Lindsey’s own. His guitar was still stashed under the bed, though, so he settled for grumbling. The sight of his clothes hanging next to a row of bare hangers in the half-empty closet sent his mind back to Darla, so he shut the door with a bang, and checked his watch. 1:38.

“Nothing to do but wait,” Lindsey told himself, ignoring the niggling thought that Spike wouldn’t show up. On the off chance that he did, Lindsey heated some leftover Chinese take-out in the microwave, gobbling it down and burning his tongue. Happy? I ate something. Pushy vampire. The word protective also sprang to mind, and he wasn’t sure what to make of that.

His life so far had been a predictable trail of high hopes, followed by plunging disappointments, like the path of a heart monitor. Up… he’d escaped from the small town death-spiral that had eventually claimed his father. Down… deals with demons of the most literal kind upon entering Wolfram & Hart. Up… three blind children, one dark-eyed hero, and the chance to win back his soul. Down… and he could only count to five using all of his fingers. The havoc that Darla had wrecked would show itself as something like a heart attack; nonsensical, dizzying spikes of ups and downs, followed by one long flat-line of numb hurt.

Funny, the way it all came together in a rearview mirror, chaos and memories solidifying into patterns so tangible he could almost trace them in the air.

Up… it was 2:46, and he was waiting for Spike.

He set about rearranging everything he owned, just so that the place didn’t look quite as recently abandoned, vaguely shocked at how few possessions he actually owned. When you pick up your life and drag it halfway around the world with you, mobility takes precedence over sentimentality. He slid the hangers around in the closet strategically, until it looked fuller, rocking back on his heels and admiring his handiwork, and refusing to look at his watch.

Lindsey poured himself a drink, and read the note on the fridge, which he had been avoiding. “Lindsey, I know you’ll understand…” Neat feminine script, and it went on for a few more sentences, but he nodded and balled it up in his fist after the first line. He did understand. It stung, but that was life for you. At least he’d had the chance to brace himself this time.

He sprawled on the couch, drink in hand, idly flipped through the channels. By now, the six o’clock news was on. He switched the set off, draining his drink and feeling a bit smug that he hadn’t checked his watch.

Staring at the ceiling and letting the alcohol warm him from the inside out, he had to wonder if he’d always fallen into obsession so damn quickly. Money, Angel, Darla, revenge. He smiled at the evidence against him, his hand trailing idly over his chest, remembering the way Spike had touched him.

Spike was an enigma of the most intriguing kind. He managed to be a creature of all façade and no pretenses, all at once, wrapped in black leather. Deliciously sensual, and he knew it, and he knew Lindsey knew it. Smug bastard. He could read people, and that made him dangerous. Lindsey’s eyes began to drift shut as he slid into a state of half-sleep, each imagined touch feeling like the real thing.

Spike’s body felt heated in comparison to the cool tile against Lindsey’s back, or perhaps it was the hot water still pouring over them that had made him warm. Lindsey’s shallow breaths were muffled in the steam, and he let his head fall back, groaning as Spike mouthed his throat.

His eyes closed, Lindsey put his head back against the arm of the couch, running his fingers over his neck and feeling the satisfying electric sting of the mark Spike had left, without breaking the skin.

Talented fingers at work on his aching cock, making his own movements feel clumsy and stilted, but Spike’s low groans rumble against his shoulder, so he can’t be doing that badly. Spike’s free hand seems to be everywhere at once, tugging at Lindsey’s water-dark hair, dragging his nails down Lindsey’s chest to make him shudder, and finally gripping his arm, hard, as things get hot and needy.

Lindsey let his fingers curl around his bicep, sighing at the quiet ache when he dug his fingers in, mimicking Spike’s vise-grip. Angel used to do this, leave his calling card etching into Lindsey’s flesh in purples and blues. Lindsey had learned to make do with what he got; a smack was a touch, at least, and strong hands around his throat, cutting off his air, was intimacy. Now, when Spike touched him, it was only to bring pleasure, and Lindsey hardly knew how to handle this.

Lindsey’s legs were going weak beneath him as he neared his climax, his body straining for more contact, more friction, just a bit more… please…

“Gorgeous. You’re a bloody beautiful thing, Lindsey.” Spike’s whisper was almost lost under the hiss of the water, and so unexpected that Lindsey was nearly shocked into stillness. But Spike’s tongue, cool against the spiral of his ear, brought him back to life, and nearly sent him plummeting over the edge. He felt like he’d just stumbled upon something he didn’t even know he’d been searching for, and when Spike’s teeth found his throat again, he was done for. His hips snapped forward, and he fucked Spike’s fist desperately as he came, clinging to him to keep from falling as heat and pleasure tore through him…

Lindsey opened his eyes with a quiet moan, and found himself blinking in disappointed confusion at the ceiling.

“There’s a let-down,” he muttered, rolling his sore neck and deciding that a cold shower would be a good idea. He checked his watch as he stumbled, sleep-dizzy, to the bathroom. He had only been asleep for a quarter hour, so Spike probably wouldn’t get here for a while. If he comes at all, Lindsey reminded himself realistically. The advice not to get his hopes up seemed a little bit late, now, and he hissed softly as he wriggled out of his jeans, the denim sliding over his half-hard cock.

A few minutes later, Lindsey came to the decision that no matter how cold the water was, it wasn’t going to do a damn thing with snatches of his dream replaying through his head like a faulty tape. He gave up with a shivering shrug, and turned the water to hot, sighing as the steam billowed up around him. Much better. He rolled his shoulders and neck, working out the kinks from his nap. The water clung to his eyelashes and made his vision blur as he turned to fiddle with the temperature, making the water as warm as it could go, and wondering how pissed Spike would be if he used up all the hot water before he even got there.

When he turned around, there was a man standing in front of him, dressed in a suit and tie, and rendered appropriately ghostly by the rising steam.

“Jesus Christ!”

“Not even close,” Lee Mercer laughed. “I was never really the religious type. All those pesky ‘thou-shalt-not’s getting in the way of company policy.” Lindsey stared at him, and he grinned. “Hi, Lee, good to see you,” he prompted.

“You’re bleeding in my shower, Lee,” Lindsey pointed out. The steady crimson flow dripping down the man’s face had turned the water around Lindsey’s feet pink. “What do you want?”

“Just checking in. They were going to send Holland Manners.” Melodramatic widening of deceivingly innocent eyes, which caused the blood to spurt for a second. “Happy to see me now?”

“Nope.” Lindsey shut off the water, storming out of the shower and snatching up a towel. He glared at Lee, who was still standing in the tub, dripping water and gore with a beatific smile. “You know how cliché this is, right?” he had to ask, slinging the towel around his waist.

“Well, I had considered the whole ‘appear behind him in the mirror’ deal, but I figured, you’re Lindsey McDonald. The guy who should probably be more concerned about the things that don’t show up in a mirror.” He stepped out of the shower, draping an arm around Lindsey’s bare shoulder. Lindsey tried not to flinch too noticeably. Lee sighed, making a face at the fogging mirror. “If I’d known I was going to spend eternity looking like this, I would’ve worn a cooler tie.”

“I don’t have time for this,” Lindsey muttered, ducking away from the casual contact. Lee scoffed quietly.

“Make time, my friend. Cause the big guys upstairs… sorry, downstairs, I suppose… aren’t fooled by someone tagging out of a Holding Dimension.” Lindsey bit the inside of his lip, the stomach twisting.

“They gonna put me back there? I’d like to see them try,” he growled. Lee clicked his tongue, pressing water out of his tie with his fingers.

“Don’t tempt them, Lindsey. We both know they’d have you back there in a nervous man’s heartbeat, if they wanted to. But they don’t want you back. They’re bored with you, Lindsey, bored and very disappointed. They want you dead,” Lee intoned. Lindsey sighed, raking his dripping hair out of his eyes.

“At least if they sent Holland, he would’ve been less melodramatic.” Lee’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“You know, I used to think you were so cool. Confident, intelligent, and you had that whole ‘rags to riches’ thing working for you…”

“Thanks, but I think I’m seeing someone,” Lindsey muttered. Lee continued, ignoring him.

“But then you start getting involved with all this vampire business. And things start going downhill. You made some bad choices, we all do,” Lee assured him, his voice dripping with all the manufactured sympathy of a televangelist.

“I’m not the shit-for-brains who thought it’d be a good idea to scout out Klein & Gabler, Lee.”

“They approached me!” Lee exploded, stabbing his finger at Lindsey’s face. He huffed, and seemed to take control of himself. “You remember the Talxon clan, don’t you?” Years of training kept Lindsey’s flinch minimal.

“I do.”

“Well, they haven’t forgotten about you either. You take out a loan of that magnitude, and there will be, quite literally, Hell to pay when they figure out you can’t return it,” Lee quipped with a smirk. Lindsey watched the steady drip of blood and water from Lee’s body spatter the clean tiles.

“And you’re going to point them in my direction?” he asked, his voice even.

“Bingo. Don’t give me that kicked puppy look, Lin. You know that only worked on Manners because he thought you were cute.” Lindsey’s chin snapped up and he glared at Lee fiercely.

“I’ll pay the damn forfeit,” he snarled. Lee actually laughed, and Lindsey wondered if he was corporeal enough to hit.

“You think you can survive it?” he chuckled, leaning against the counter. “Listen, you start playing for our side again, the strong side, and you won’t have to worry about the Talxon.”

“This is an ultimatum, then?”

“No,” Lee corrected. “This is a threat.” His expression softened, and for a moment, he looked like the frightened man who’d crept into Lindsey’s office during their first week, to ask if Lindsey thought the place was as ‘freaky’ as he did. Lee’s hand drifted up to the bullet hole in his temple, subconsciously trying to obscure the grotesque wound. “Lin, don’t do this. Life would be so much easier for you if you just picked a side and stuck with it. And at the moment, I’m recommending this one.” Lindsey shook his head.

“Tell the Senior Partners I said no. I’ll pay the forfeit,” he muttered, his stomach dropping a bit at the very thought. He’d known what he’d been getting himself into when he made the deal with the Talxon clan, but he never dreamed that someone would be able to obliterate the tattoos before he had to return them.

Actually, he had thought of that. His assumption had been that without that protection from the Senior Partners, and Angel, he’d be far too dead to worry about some pesky band of demons coming to collect.

Lee made a small noise of frustration, but Lindsey held him with his stare until the man was forced to look away. “I think I forgot how stubborn you are. Well, can’t say I didn’t try,” Lee told him, his cheery smile clashing with the obvious worry manifesting in the lines around his eyes. The smile began to fade as he did. “It was… nice seeing you again, Lindsey.”

And then he was gone, along with the blood that he’d spilled on the tiles, leaving Lindsey alone in the bathroom. The moisture was cooling on his bare skin, and Lindsey shuddered, vigorously scrubbing dry with the tower and walking into the bedroom. Going to the closet, he found the suit that he hadn’t worn in years, pulling a folded sheaf of thick paper out of the inner pocket.

He sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing out the creases that ran through the document and grimacing at the hopeless finality of his own signature. The blood had faded to a rusty brown since he’d signed it, but there it was. He quickly scanned the length of the document, searching for a loophole he knew wasn’t there, before resigning himself to his fate and carefully reading the exact terms of the forfeit.

“This is bad,” he told the paper with a sigh. “Really fucking bad.” He scrubbed a hand over his face wearily, before folding the thing back up and slipping it back into the hiding place. Too late to worry about it now. I survived the Holding Dimension, I’ll damn well survive this. He pointedly ignored the little voice that told him he’d only survived the basement of perpetual torment because a trio of good guys with heroic-sounding names had bodily dragged him out of it. Besides, it would take a little while for the Talxon to get themselves from Nepal to L.A., and he’d have thought of a way out by then.

Right?

Lindsey pulled on a snug blue t-shirt and a pair of old jeans, studying himself critically in the mirror until he caught himself fussing with his hair and stalked away under the disgusted impression that he had momentarily been possessed by Angel.

Within minutes there was a knock at the door. Lindsey made himself count to five, slowly, before answering it. Spike was leaning casually against the doorframe, hands in the pockets of his jacket, and a half-smile playing over his lips. Lindsey’s mouth went on strike as he fumbled for the right thing to say. He decided to stick with the classics.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Spike echoed, his smile growing as he forwardly looked Lindsey up and down. “Fancy meeting you here.” Lindsey fought down the urge to fidget under that direct stare.

“You want to come in?”

“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” Spike pointed out. Lindsey shrugged.

“So come in, already.” He swung the door open wide, and Spike strolled into the apartment, his hands still in his pockets. There was a faint bruise at his left temple. “What happened to you?” Lindsey gestured vaguely towards the mark, caught in the awkward stage before someone makes the first move. He stepped forward slightly, looking for any excuse to touch, to make that connection again.

“Former god stepped on my head. The usual,” Spike answered lightly. “But enough about me…” He solved Lindsey’s dilemma by simply lifting his hand and running the back of his fingers down Lindsey’s cheek and over the length of his throat. His roving hand trailed onto his chest, before taking hold of a fistful of shirt and pulling him close with a jerk. “You look good enough to eat.”

Then he had his arms around Lindsey, and Lindsey was clutching at him with equal fervor, and everything was just so much better when they were kissing. I missed you came across in a kiss, when it couldn’t possibly be said out loud. Spike’s tongue swept over his over, sensual and real, reassuring him that someone out there did indeed still have use for him. Lindsey’s hands were knotted firmly in Spike’s jacket when he pulled away to draw a shallow breath.

“That’s more like it,” Spike murmured, carding his fingers through Lindsey’s hair. “I was thinking ‘bout you all day.”

“Yeah?” Lindsey slipped his hands under Spike’s duster, his fingers exploring the hard contours of his chest, as he leaned in close to press a kiss against the silky skin just below Spike’s ear. Spike made a soft noise of appreciation, tilting his head obligingly.

“Yeah. Was thinking about everything we did last night; the way you looked, sounds you made.” Lindsey let the words wash over him, almost as pleasurable as Spike’s hands sliding under his shirt, with just a hint of nails that had him nearly squirming with want. “I was thinking about what I wanted to do with you tonight.” Spike’s fingers found his nipple, and another teasing flick of nail had Lindsey pressing against him with a muffled groan. “What I want to do to you.”

“Why don’t you just show me already?” Lindsey demanded. If Spike kept talking like that, this might be over embarrassingly fast. Spike seemed to read his mind, guiding him back, with the grace of a dancer or a fighter, until Lindsey was up against the wall. His grin was almost predatory.

“Am showin’ you. See, this plan of mine? Starts with me driving you half insane,” Spike whispered into his ear, his tongue teasing the sensitive skin there. His teeth clicked against Lindsey’s earring, and he tugged it slightly. Lindsey arched against him with a gasp that he couldn’t stifle, his arms going around Spike’s waist and pulling him closer. Spike was surprisingly pliant in his grasp, vampire strength hidden away for the moment.

“That so?” Lindsey managed to ask. Abandoning any pretense, he buried his face against the curve where Spike’s throat met his shoulder, biting just hard enough for Spike to feel the sting. He reached down and pressed his palm against Spike’s erection, evidence that he wanted this just as badly as Lindsey did.

“Yeah,” Spike hissed, his hands coming up to tangle in Lindsey’s hair. “Yeah. I could make you scream. Could make you beg.” He thrust his hips forward into Lindsey’s touch, creating some excellent friction that made them both groan.

“You could try,” Lindsey muttered against his throat. He pushed Spike’s jacket off his shoulders with due reverence this time, but Spike simply untangled himself long enough to let it slide to the floor with a muted whoosh. He seemed … different without the duster. Smaller, maybe. More real. Lindsey ran his hands up Spike’s arms, curling his fingers into the corded muscle, and leaning back against the wall for support as Spike kissed him again.

“Mmm, I just might do that,” Spike mumbled, between kisses. “Pretty Lindsey.” He drew back when Lindsey flinched, though not enough to lose contact. “Touched a nerve, did I?” Lindsey shook his head stubbornly, marveling at the instant concern that he wouldn’t have guessed Spike had in him. His fingers came up to stroke Lindsey’s cheek, and there was that gentle look from this morning again. Lindsey sighed.

“It’s nothing. Darla called me that, sometimes, that’s all,” he explained, feeling ridiculous. Spike rolled his eyes, and for a moment, Lindsey was sure he was about to be laughed at.

“Ah, that bint. She’s nothing to be hung up over, believe me. She just plays with a bloke’s mind like it’s a fancy new toy.” He tapped lightly at Lindsey temple, and this time when Spike kissed him, it was gentle and sweet; lemonade left in the sunshine. Three days ago, if someone had used ‘sweet’ to describe William the Bloody, Lindsey would’ve laughed them out of town, and yet, it was the only word that came to mind now. He put his hands flat against Spike’s chest … and pushed, hard.

“Why are you doing this?” he demanded. His accent had crept into his words, as subtle as the tremor in his hands. Spike masked a hurt look, taking a step back.

“Doing what?”

“Acting all …” Lindsey waved his hand vaguely. “Acting like you care.” Spike ducked his head, and his smile made him look incredibly young for a moment.

“I could tell you that I’m trying to get into your pants. Which would be somewhat true, frankly. Or I could tell you, that as shocking as it may be to us both, I actually do care.” He folded his arms, considering Lindsey with that damned head-tilt of his. “Take your pick, lad.” Lindsey raked his fingers through his hair, stalling, unsure of what to say to that. He felt a bit overwhelmed, clearly out of his league in the blunt honesty department here.

“Okay,” he murmured. He snuck a glance up at Spike, wishing he could just take back the last minute and have Spike touching him again. It made more sense that way, rather than trying to figure out why Spike would care about the psychological damage that his great grand-Sire may have inflicted. “I just … professional habit, I guess. Sorry.” He still couldn’t utter that word without it feeling like a defeat, but he was willing to lose this one, if Spike would just kiss him.

Sneaky bastard must have read his thoughts and used vampire speed, because it was only about a second before Spike was doing just that. Lindsey realized that Spike had his hands pinned to the wall, but was far too caught up with the grind of Spike’s hips against his own to panic just yet. Driving his tongue into Spike’s mouth and deepening the kiss, he tried to pull his hands out of Spike’s grip. He found himself fixed with a mock-glare.

“Sorry, precious. That’s the price you pay for shoving,” Spike informed him, his tone somewhere in between seductive and teasing. Lindsey raised an eyebrow, pulling a bit harder, but Spike only shook his head, smirking. He leaned in close and leisurely trailed his tongue over Lindsey’s jugular. The cool, wet sensation, coupled with the feeling of helpless of submission at having his hands trapped like this, left Lindsey trying to remember how to breathe.

“God, I’m twisted,” he mumbled. There was a goddamn vampire at his throat, and despite that, or more likely because of it, his dick was throbbing with the pounding of his heart. He could feel Spike’s teeth against his skin when he smiled, and he pressed himself against the vampire’s body shamelessly.

“Seem perfectly fine to me. I was thinking,” Spike began, freeing one of Lindsey’s hands and tracing the stitching along the fly of Lindsey’s jeans. Lindsey bit back a sound that certainly wasn’t a whimper. “Was thinking that you should let me shag you.”

“Yeah?” Lindsey’s voice wasn’t entirely steady. He wasn’t really thrown by the suggestion. He’d actually been a bit surprised that it hadn’t played out that way last night. Spike nodded, his eyes searching Lindsey’s face, but his fingers still teasing at the bulge in Lindsey’s jeans, tracing the outline of his erection and making him ache with need.

“Yeah. You ever done it that way ‘round before?”

“Once or tw … well, once,” Lindsey amended, in keeping with the honesty kick they seemed to be on tonight. He cleared his throat. “And I, ah, don’t remember so much of it. There was a fair amount of alcohol involved.” Spike chuckled, popping the button of Lindsey’s jeans and snaking a hand inside. Lindsey exhaled explosively, leaning heavily on Spike as his strong fingers finally closed around Lindsey’s cock.

“I’d make it good for you,” Spike was murmuring in his ear, the movements of his hand slow and steady, cool against the heat of Lindsey’s erection. “Promise. Make it so good…”

“Alright,” Lindsey managed. He reached down quickly to stop Spike’s hand, the very thought of what they were going to do driving him dangerously close to the edge. “C’mon. The bed’s for two. Might as well use it.” He wriggled out of Spike’s arms, stripping out of his shirt as he headed for the bedroom, and glad he’d thought to change the sheets before Spike arrived. The place probably smelled enough like Eve as it was.

“Show-off,” Spike muttered. Lindsey wasn’t sure if he was referring to the bed, or the impromptu strip-tease, but graced him with a coy grin and a slow roll of his shoulders. One day, he would learn to stop taunting vampires. Apparently, just not tonight. Spike pounced, a black and white blur against the gray walls, and Lindsey found himself sprawled on the bed with Spike on top of him. His hands were trapped beside his head, and Lindsey was starting to sense a theme. He stretched idly under Spike’s weight with a wicked grin.

“Now, how am I supposed to do a damn thing about clothes?” Spike considered that, and let him go with a growl, unbuttoning his jeans impatiently.

“You got…?”

Lindsey was already handing him the tube of lotion he’d dug out earlier, his fingers suddenly clumsy as he shucked his pants. The graceful wiggle Spike executed to slither out of his tight jeans, however, did something to sooth his nerves. The guy was over a century old … he was bound to have more finesse than a drunk and stoned college student, right? “Hey,” Spike murmured, dipping low to kiss his throat. “I’ll make it good. Promised, didn’t I?” Lindsey laughed without meaning to.

“That obvious, am I?”

“Nah … I can hear your heart racing.” Spike lowered his body over Lindsey’s, creating a sensory overload of hot and cold and so much skin and the hard length of him right up against Lindsey’s cock.

“God…” Lindsey curled his fingers into Spike’s hair, kissing him hard and rocking up into Spike’s body. “No way I’m gonna last,” he panted, wondering when all the oxygen in the room had disappeared. If Spike could hear his heart pounding before, it must be nearly deafening now. Spike’s hands were all over him, stroking and soothing, and reminding him that there were sensations other than the almost painful grind of his cock against Spike’s hip.

“Me neither,” Spike laughed, sounding breathless and giddy. His eyes had gone dark with arousal, the barest ring of sky-blue around dilated pupils. “Turn over for me, precious.” Lindsey obeyed, bracing himself with arms that had begun to shake uncontrollably. The memory of his one night of experimentation, which had been blurred by whiskey and time, was coming back in Technicolor. He’d been aching and sore for a week afterwards, fidgeting in uncomfortable metal lecture-hall chairs and swearing he’d never do something that stupid again … and yet here he was, on his hands and knees, waiting for a vampire to fuck him. He flinched at the first touch of Spike’s finger against him.

“Go slow,” he ground out through clenched teeth, his eyes shut tight. The gentle press of Spike’s fingers faltered, then disappeared.

“Lindsey.” Spike ran the palms of his hands over Lindsey’s back, making him shiver. “Look at me.” Lindsey opened his eyes with a sigh, craning to meet his eyes. Spike’s expression was utterly, frighteningly earnest. “I will not hurt you. Swear it.” Lindsey searched his face for some sign that he was lying, or telling the truth, and finding nothing but simply what he had said.

“Okay.” He bit back the urge to apologize, turning to brace himself again. At least the trembling had subsided. “I know you won’t,” he lied. A cool kiss was pressed against his spine, and then another, and he got the impression that Spike was trying to distract him as he oh-so-carefully slid a slick finger inside him. Uncomfortable, but not yet painful, Lindsey decided. He could handle this. So long as Spike kept being gentle, and … JESUS! Sensation exploded inside him, coursing out from the place that Spike had stroked, and his hands had instinctively taken a death-grip on the covers.

“Christ …” he gasped, his erection making itself known again, with a vengeance. “Jesus Christ, Spike, do that again.” Spike’s lips, tracking the length of his spine, curved into a smile, and he circled the spot with his fingertip before pressing against it. Lindsey bit his lip to keep from groaning, getting shaky again, but for a good reason now. The arousal that had been on slow-burn in the pit of his stomach had just been kicked up to a sizzling need, and he tried not to tense when Spike pushed a second finger into him. He struggled to loosen his hold on the bed sheets, to no avail, panting as Spike prepared him.

“You ready for me, then?” Spike asked, his voice not entirely steady. Lindsey grinned wildly, sweat beading on his forehead and dripping into his eyelashes.

“Go on and fuck me, already,” he growled. There was a bit of a fumble, and Spike was panting, little unnecessary puffs of air tickling Lindsey’s skin, and finally, Spike was pressing into him. Well, that was a hell of a lot bigger than his fingers, and for a moment, Lindsey was scared again.

“Relax for me, Lindsey … shhh, relax,” Spike mumbled, the sound of his voice enough to calm Lindsey down. This wasn’t some drunken fuck. This was Spike … and regardless of history and souls and disturbing eating habits, Lindsey was beginning to think he just might be able to trust him.

And then Spike was in him, deep inside, his chest tight against Lindsey’s back and his hands digging into Lindsey’s hips. Spike stayed there for a moment, before swaying back to push in again. Lindsey groaned aloud as the head of Spike’s hard cock slid over his prostate, arching his back and pressing back into him. Spike uttered an unsteady curse, muffled through fangs, his forehead against Lindsey’s shoulder blade as he moved.

His hand, still slick with lube, trailed down Lindsey’s chest and closed around his cock, and Lindsey gave it about a minute. He hissed at the touch, his hips snapping forward of their own accord, and back again into Spike’s cock, striving for more pleasure, more sensation. Feeling everywhere, feeling everything, and for once, he wasn’t numb. Spike’s movements began to disintegrate into something hot and frantic, and Lindsey felt the last of his control evaporate with Spike’s low moan.

Spike fist pumped around him, in time with his thrusts, and Lindsey writhed for a moment, trapped and burning on the brink of his climax. He came with a strangled cry that he could hardly hear over the white-noise roar in his ears, hands clawing at the mattress for some kind of purchase, completely lost in the delirium of release. Spike came hard inside him not long after, his fangs just barely breaking the surface of Lindsey’s skin and his low growl reverberating against his shoulder.

They collapsed in a messy tangle of limbs, and for a moment, it was all Lindsey could do to just breathe, and find his way down from the high. He forced his eyes open, unable to stifle a moan as Spike pulled out of him. Spike lapped lightly at the back of his neck, shockingly cool against his feverish skin.

“Was that…” Spike sounded almost anxious. “Was that alright?” Lindsey rolled onto his back, feeling like his limbs had been replaced with cement, staring up at Spike incredulously.

“You’re kidding, right?” Spike had propped himself up on his elbow, and shrugged, brushing the damps curls of hair off Lindsey’s forehead. “Yes, it was alright, you idiot.” He pulled Spike down to him and kissed him, a messy, sated kiss, and Spike’s fingers had tangled in his hair again. Lindsey rested his forehead against Spike’s. “The phrase ‘best I ever had’ springs to mind,” he admitted quietly. Spike grinned, kissing him hard enough to take his breath away.

“It’ll be even better next time.”

“Next time?” Lindsey could’ve kicked himself. The question had slipped out before he’d meant to say it. Spike drew back a bit, looking away, but Lindsey snaked his hand around his neck before he could go far, still instinctively surprised at how cool and dry the vampire was, compared to his own state. “That’d be good.” Spike’s smile returned, full-force, and Lindsey found himself grinning in return.

Spike used the tangled bed-sheet to swipe ineffectually at the mess they had made, before laying down and curling up against Lindsey without a word. Lindsey tentatively put his arms around him. If this was Eve, he would’ve settled in, held her for hours if she let him. But with Spike, he wasn’t quite sure where things stood.

He shifted a bit, moving out of the damp spot on the sheets and not-so-inadvertently further into Spike’s grasp. “I still can’t believe Angel didn’t smell me on you,” he found himself remarking. Spike had subtly wriggled closer, and his head was resting in the crook of Lindsey’s arm.

“If he did, Broody-Britches was too wrapped up with some Connor bloke to pay a blind bit of notice,” Spike assured him sleepily. Lindsey stiffened.

“Connor?” Spike nodded off-handedly.

“Think that was the name. Just some human kid who doesn’t know his own strength. Don’t know why Angel was so wound up over him.” Spike lifted his head and his eyes narrowed, as he pressed the palm of his hand against Lindsey’s chest, over his heart. “And so are you. Why?”

Lindsey took a deep breath. “Do you trust me?”

“’Bout as far as I could throw you, mate,” Spike replied, with an apologetic smile. Lindsey considered that for a moment, and then shrugged.

“Well, I’ve been thrown pretty far by vampires before. I’ll take my chances. Connor is Angel’s son.” Lindsey wasn’t sure what he had expected Spike to say, but he certainly didn’t predict the instant grin of pure delight that spread over his face.

“His son?! How the bloody Hell’d he keep that hushed up?” Spike exclaimed, barely repressed laughter in his voice.

“Mass memory wipe of everyone that knew. Eve told me.”

“Really.” Spike was losing the fight against his laughter. “So Angelus is a daddy. Lord, who’s the mum?” Lindsey fidgeted, looking away.

“Darla, actually,” he mumbled, bracing himself for more laughter. Instead, Spike just clicked his tongue, touching Lindsey’s cheek lightly.

“Really,” he repeated. The touch had forgotten itself and turned into a caress. “I suppose you’d best fill me in, then. Tell me everything.”

* * *

It would’ve been a useless gesture to wave as Connor sped away in the back of his surrogate parent’s minivan, so Angel shoved his hands into his pockets instead, watching until the tail-lights disappeared around the corner. He should just be grateful that Connor was alive, that Sahjahn was not, and that Connor hadn’t remembered everything from… before. It was probably a good thing that Connor didn’t know he was Angel’s son, and Angel should be relieved. Instead, he had found himself a bit disappointed.

If things had been touchy with Wesley before, they’d just become explosive. No amount of backpedaling could ever bring back the mutual respect they’d held, and it would take more than a hundred memory touch-ups to bring back the innocent, eager ‘rogue demon hunter’ he had known years ago. Angel heaved a deep sigh, knowing that there was no one around to tease him for it. Spike might laugh at all his brooding, but sometimes the weight of the world was almost tangible on his shoulders.

Spike; the family he couldn’t get rid of. A perfect counterpoint to Connor, the family he could never keep. Maybe that was why he hated Lindsey so much… every time the little twerp showed up, he managed to drag someone from Angel’s past back into the game. Darla, then Drusilla, now Spike. Angel wouldn’t be half surprised if Lindsey showed up with Penn riding shotgun in his truck someday. He sighed again, but it didn’t make him feel any less miserable. He’d told Lindsey that he’d sold his soul for a corner office, but Angel himself had actually given them his first-born son. Maybe Lindsey had left town, this time for good. He turned to wander back into the lobby.

And stopped.

Why did the thought of Spike bring Lindsey into his mind? Something about Spike… when he’d briefly seen him in the training room with Illyria. He cast his mind back, scrutinizing the memory carefully. A briefcase-wielding underling from the lobby nearly bustled right into him, and was duly shoved aside as the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place.

Spike had smelled like Lindsey.

Ignoring the felled lawyer’s strident protests, Angel stepped over him and stalked out into the night, suddenly knowing where he would find his runaway captive.

* * *

Lindsey had proceeded to tell Spike everything he remembered, along with the few keys details that Eve had passed to him. Overall, Spike was remarkably sympathetic, save for a few lapses into very un-vampiric fits of giggling. When Lindsey had finished, Spike just shook his head.

“Well, if there’s going to be drama in the family again, m’just glad he left me and Dru out of it this time,” he decided. Lindsey smiled.

“Family, huh? I though that was just Drusilla’s thing.”

“Nah, for better or worse, the tie’s still there,” Spike admitted, a hundred years worth of exasperation creeping into his voice. Lindsey let himself sink back against pillow, his hand coming up automatically to brush through Spike’s tousled hair as he rested against Lindsey’s chest.

“But, you’d kill him? Even though he’s family?” he asked. He could feel Spike’s answering chuckle against his collarbone.

“Well, you’d kill him, and you’re the one with the puppy-dog love,” Spike remarked lightly, glancing up with a wicked smirk. He quickly and casually put one hand over Lindsey’s mouth before he could utter a syllable, using the other to pin his hands above his head. Spike leaned over him, grinning as he pronounced each word. “Puppy. Dog. Love.”

If looks could kill, Spike would’ve been a pile of ashes ten times over. He ignored the death-stare, and licked the tip of Lindsey’s nose, causing muffled protests to explode under his palm. “Should’ve called you puppy, ‘stead of precious. Would you like that better?” he teased, taking his hands away and curling up again. Lindsey glared at him fiercely.

“Are you tryin’ to see if I’ll kill you?” he snapped. Spike shook his head, burying his face against Lindsey’s throat.

“Nah. You just smell so good when you’re all hot and bothered. Can’t help myself,” he replied, with as much innocence as he could muster.

“You’re insane. You know that, right?” Lindsey muttered grumpily. Too annoyed to be bothered with after-sex etiquette any longer, Lindsey burrowed into Spike’s embrace, the tension beginning to ease out of him as Spike’s hands slipped around to massage his back.

“Does this mean I can’t call you ‘puppy’?” Spike asked, sounded heart-broken. Lindsey snorted, and nipped at Spike’s earlobe hard enough to make him yelp. “See? Even bite like a puppy…” Lindsey decided that the only logical course of action would be to shut him up with a kiss, so he pressed his mouth to Spike’s, flicking his tongue over his bottom lip. Spike’s laughter turned into a groan, and he deepened the kiss, pulling Lindsey closer.

A forceful knock at the door made Lindsey jump, and Spike’s arms tightened around him instinctively.

“Ignore ‘em. They’ll go away,” Spike told him.

The knocking didn’t go away, but increased in volume until it progressed into the category of ‘pounding’. Lindsey groaned, so perfectly comfortable in Spike’s arms that to move at all would practically be a crime.

“You get the door, and I’ll…” Lindsey paused, thinking up a suitable motivation. “I’ll let you tie me up next time.” He lazily crossed his wrists above his head, executing what he hoped was a seductive wriggle.

Spike was halfway out of the room before he turned around. “Should I get that in writing?” Lindsey just laughed, tossing him his jeans and admiring the view. Spike stumbled into his pants as he disappeared into the other room, wrenching the door open before it got knocked in.

“Keep your bloody knickers o… oh. It’s you.” Spike sounded like he was suppressing laughter, and Lindsey pulled on his own jeans as curiosity got the better of him. He walked into the front room and froze, as if his feet had simply forgotten how to move.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered. Angel stared back and forth between them, his eyes widening and narrowing almost comically.

“Alright, what the Hell is going on here?” he demanded, looming over Spike, who seemed rather unimpressed.

“What the Hell are you doin’ in my house?” Lindsey shot back, his hands on his hips. “Also, none of your goddamn business.” Angel sputtered, seeming not to what to do with his hands as they gestured uselessly, unable to sum up his outrage.

“You’ve been having sex! With each other! I can smell it!” he exploded. Spike rolled his eyes, causing Lindsey to stifle a laugh, despite his own mounting anger.

“Pick your jaw up off the floor, Angelus. I’m with the boy on this one,” Spike retorted, ambling back towards Lindsey. He met Lindsey’s eyes for a brief moment, something like reassurance in his gaze. He hooked a finger through the belt loop of Lindsey’s jeans, tugging him a bit closer. “Really none of your business what we do in our off-hours, is it?” Angel seemed about two seconds away from shifting into game face and ripping them both to shreds with his bare hands.

“You… can’t,” he ground out. Spike laughed.

“Why’s that, then?” Spike’s thumb was tracing soothing circles along Lindsey’s lower back.

“Because I said so, Spike,” Angel snapped.

“Who’re you trying to protect here, Angel? Him, or me?” Lindsey wondered, forcing his words to sound calm, despite the fact that his heart was pounding. Angel stared at him for a long moment.

“Myself, I think,” he grumbled. “I’ve had a really bad day, and this is the last possible thing that I needed to be dealing with…”

“Right, with your son showing up and all,” Spike agreed cheerfully. Lindsey flinched. Damn. This is gonna get ugly. Angel drew a sharp breath, and his eyes slowly shifted from Spike to Lindsey. Lindsey swallowed as Angel stalked towards him, his hands already balled into fists.

“You treacherous little…” Lindsey braced for impact, and then Spike was standing in front of him.

“Back off, Angelus,” Spike growled. “I was bound to find out sooner or later.”

“No,” Angel snarled. “You weren’t. That was the whole point. That was the whole goddamn point of all of this. You don’t make deals with the devil unless you get something out of it. You should know that much, Lindsey.” The derision in the way Angel pronounced his name was tangible, and nearly stung.

“Oh,” Lindsey breathed. He found himself meeting Angel’s dark eyes over Spike’s shoulder. “So, that’s why… well, Jesus Christ, Angel. Should’ve just told me that’s why you gave up the fight. Would’ve saved us both a lot of trouble, y’know.”

Lindsey was barely able to register Angel’s primal roar, he just knew that Spike had been sent flying, landing against the wall with a painful sounding crack, and the last barrier between him and the vampire with Hell in his eyes was gone. He couldn’t have fought back if he wanted to, but he found himself instinctively stumbling away, until his back collided with the wall. The pure fury in Angel’s eyes made his breath catch in his throat.

As did the terrifyingly strong hands around his neck.

Lindsey clawed helplessly at the vise-grip, dark spots dancing in his vision and his bare feet dangling a good half-foot off the floor. Angel pulled him forward, only to slam him back into the wall, and Lindsey’s fingers slipped away from Angel’s wrists as they went numb.

“You… don’t… save… me,” Angel snarled, each word punctuated with another shocking crash into the wall, until Lindsey hung limp in his grasp like a rag doll. Lindsey’s eyes were watering with pain, but he forced himself to keep them open. The last thing he was going to see, before it all went dark, was Angel’s face, twitching with rage, his eyes half-wild… coming closer?

It wasn’t a kiss. It was Angel’s mouth over his, rough and mean and full of hate. Lindsey still couldn’t breathe, though the hands that had been wrapped around his throat were now digging into his arms like claws. He didn’t get a chance to draw a breath until he was flung back into the wall. He gulped oxygen into his abused throat desperately, sliding to the carpet. Crimson starbursts spattered the denim of his jeans as he gathered enough air into his lungs to cough, and when he lifted his head, Angel was staring down at him.

His throat was still too crushed to speak, and Lindsey wasn’t sure what he would have said anyways. Without a word, Angel turned on his heel and strode out of the apartment. A light touch on Lindsey’s shoulder caused him to flinch.

“Are you alright, luv?” Spike asked. There was blood streaming from a cut above his eye. Lindsey watched the progress of a single crimson drop as it slid down the length of Spike’s face, shocking and unreal against his pale skin. “Lindsey!” He blinked at Spike in confusion. Why was Spike yelling at him? It was because he’d let Angel kiss him, wasn’t it? Spike knew what it meant when Angel strangled him. Of course he would.

“I didn’t want him to,” he explained, the words seeming to tear his throat. He coughed weakly, which only made the pain double. Spike stood up, and Lindsey could only watch him walk away, his feet so pale under the dark denim of his pants. “Are you leaving?” he asked. If he whispered, it didn’t hurt so much. “Don’t go… I didn’t want it this time…”

A sudden shock of coldness against his bare skin made him hiss, and he came back to himself. He looked up to find Spike watching him, concern darkening his eyes. He slid a fistful of ice along Lindsey’s throat, numbing the pain.

“There you are,” he commented, the tense edge to his words giving him away. Lindsey managed a lopsided grin.

“You think we’ve succeeded in our plan to piss him off?” Spike snorted under his breath.

“Oh, we’re well on our way,” he remarked dryly. “All that’s left is to prance about the office holdin’ hands, and his great gelled head’ll explode.” The ice was melting against Lindsey’s skin, and the chilly droplets slipping down his chest made him shiver. To his surprise, Spike ducked to lap at the moisture gathering in the hollow of his throat, before resting his head against Lindsey’s shoulder. “M’sorry,” he muttered quietly. Lindsey smiled, leaning his cheek against Spike’s mussed hair.

“Hey, I’ve taken worse than this from Angel and lived to tell the tale,” he pointed out. Spike shook his head, his lips moving against Lindsey’s skin when he spoke.

“I should’ve known better than to get him all riled,” he insisted. That made Lindsey laugh out loud, before his throat reminded him why he’d been keeping quiet.

“It’s me, and it’s Angel. Can’t get much more riled than that. We’re… pre-riled,” he decided, snaking his arm around Spike’s waist and scooting into a more comfortable position. That not-kiss was replaying in his mind, get tangled up with memories of Darla’s human teeth sinking into his throat, and Spike’s demonstration of how Angel kissed, looping back on itself until once thing suddenly shone clear.

“You called me ‘luv’.” Spike tensed almost imperceptibly.

“I did not.”

“You did,” Lindsey insisted, trying to keep from laughing. “You dragged your sorry ass over here, asked me if I was okay, and then called me ‘luv’.” Spike lifted his head to frown at him stubbornly, though his fingers were still gently sweeping the dripping crystals over his skin.

“Did not.” Lindsey raised an eyebrow. “Oh, sod it,” Spike muttered. He chucked the last of the ice onto the carpet, his chilly hand coming up to cup Lindsey’s face. “Right. I like you, Lindsey. Probably more than I should, given the circumstances. And when I like someone, I’ve this tendency to get… focused on them.” His accent had slipped into a softer range, something more proper that made Lindsey think of carriages and Shakespeare. “If this is going to be a problem, you’d best let me know now.” Lindsey opened his mouth, and shut it again, startled by the raw vulnerability in Spike’s expression. He leaned into the touch.

“Christ, Spike, I… yeah, I get that. It’s not a problem,” he assured him, trying not to grin like a monkey. All pain forgotten, Lindsey darted forward to kiss Spike’s lips, noting in the back of his mind that him initiating a kiss was something fairly new. Spike made a small noise, returning the kiss with fervor and slithering with inhuman grace into Lindsey’s lap, taking care to keep away from his bruised throat and arms. His fingers danced over the contours of Lindsey’s chest and sides instead, knowing just how to make Lindsey shudder. When Lindsey drew away, it was only because he needed to breathe, and he rested his forehead against Spike’s. The too-close view turned him into a kaleidoscope vision of shining blue eyes and alabaster skin. “Not a problem at all.”

“Good.” Spike’s soft smile turned wicked. “So, we’ve pissed him off. Now, on to the second bit of our plan.”

“And what’s that?” Lindsey flirted, playing along. Spike smirk turned into a full-fledged grin.

“Now, we seduce him.”

“We… WHAT?!”

Continued in Galvanization.