The Drive-In: teen Spangel make-out goodness
so, I've been having this mad craving for teen Spangel making out. I conned sexymermaid into writing a little spangel-makes-out-on-the-schoolbus for me, and it's lovely and can be found here, but I am of the opinion that there can never be too much boykissing, so I was antsy for more. jan told me to just get on with it and write more schoolbus porn making-out, but I was restless. then vamptastica suggested making out at the drive-in, and this ficlet was born :D
ps, I really need more spangel icons. any suggestions?
Title: The Drive-in
Author: Mel (btvslover82)
Pairing: Spangel
Rating: NC-17
Summary: teen human AU. boys making out and fooling around. in a car. much hotness to be had, there.
Warnings: uh. they're 17 take it or leave it.
Disclaimer: just playing with Joss's toys. he left the toybox open for us, but they still belong to him.
“Let’s go catch a movie,” Spike had said. “’M bored.” And God knows why, but Angel had fallen for the innocent expression on his face. Spike had sworn up and down that there would be no funny business. Just two blokes, takin’ in a show.
It went against all of Angel’s better judgement-he, of all people, should know that Spike couldn’t be trusted to keep his word.
But judgement had flown right out the window ever since Spike had kissed him…the first time. And yeah, there was no planet that Angel knew of where best friends were supposed to do that-guy best friends-but he couldn’t be held responsible. They’d been playing Grand Theft Auto, and when Angel had turned towards Spike for a high five, he’d gotten lips instead. It was like…a drive-by kissing-over so fast, all he could do was blink dumbly at the side of Spike’s head as the blond nonchalantly started the next level and told Angel to “pull his head out of his arse and shoot the bastard.”
Angel had nearly convinced himself he’d imagined the whole thing-which was a thought, in itself, that was too disturbing to be named. But then Spike cornered him by his locker after the tardy bell had rung, three days later. And again on their smoke break at work, the following Sunday. And again before gym. And then there had been that time when-
Well. It had happened…a few times. Until Angel told Spike that there was no way they could do this, and he didn’t even like guys, and could Spike please stop breathing in his ear because it was ticklish and oh. my. god. definitely no touching there. And then they’d gone back to being buddies, because that’s what they were. Spike had just been…curious, or something. And it was better that Spike get all curious with him, instead of some other dude, or it might have gotten out all over school that Spike was a curious guy and Angel would be stuck punching wise-asses across the mouth for the next two years until they could leave high school behind.
So, you know, when Spike had suggested the drive-in, Angel’s first thought had been…but then he figured they’d left all that behind, so he shouldn’t act all weird.
Spike just loved spending time in this old piece of shit he called a classic, that’s all. It was like his girlfriend, or something.
The movie started. Angel had his popcorn and Spike was sitting way over there, and everything was good. It was some kung fu flick, and Angel was so busy making fun of the bad fight choreography that he didn’t notice Spike sliding closer till he was sitting in the middle of the bench seat, with his thigh pressed up against Angel’s.
It was hot-the thigh, that is. In the way of being warm-temperatured, not…sexy. He felt like there ought to be a big neon sign over his head that read ‘Spike is touching me.’
The letters were probably pink.
Angel looked at his best friend out of the corner of his eye. “Um…Spike?”
“Mmm?” Spike’s eyes didn’t leave the screen, though his head tilted a little towards Angel to show his attention. He acted like nothing was going on, but he looked way too innocent.
“Why are you, um…shouldn’t you be over there, on your side?”
“Oh.” Spike turned and smiled at him disarmingly. His teeth were very white. “Wanted room to stretch my legs out…was a bit cramped behind the steering wheel.”
As if he were proving his point, he slouched down further in his seat, legs sprawling like always. His foot tangled with Angel’s. Angel was conscious of the way his heart was beating in his chest-god, get a grip already. They touched each other all the time on accident, and it didn’t mean anything.
“Gotta give the boys room to breath, you know?” Spike winked and turned back to the screen.
Angel blushed when he caught himself staring at Spike’s crotch. He cleared his throat and turned back to the movie. Not that he could concentrate on it. All he could think about was Spike’s warm leg against his. Spike’s whole side pressed up against his side. It was warm weather, so the heat of Spike’s arm brushed against his own, making his skin tingle. They weren’t shielded by leather jackets.
Angel didn’t look when Spike’s hand slid up close to his own crotch, but he was definitely aware that it happened.
And when Spike coughed and stretched both arms out along the back of the bench, Angel tensed, but he didn’t say anything this time. Spike always took up more room than a guy his size had any right to. Normally Angel would have made jokes about little-man syndrome, but he didn’t want to look stupid again, or like things were weird between the two of them.
And then…Spike’s fingers started toying with hair at the nape of Angel’s neck.
Angel jumped, yelping like he’d been stung, popcorn flinging out of the little paper sack. “Spike, what the hell-?!?!?!”
And that’s when Spike struck. Before Angel could even finish being wigged out, Spike’s hands trapped his head in a firm grip, his mouth was hard on Angel’s. He was practically in Angel’s lap now and-jeez, he could move fast when he wanted to-and Angel was panicking inside but….
When Spike pulled back a fraction and Angel found himself staring into familiar blue eyes that he’d never seen quite so close, he didn’t push Spike away and call him a sick bastard.
And when Spike closed the distance again and slid soft, dry lips against his own, Angel sorta dropped the popcorn and kissed back.
But only because Spike was a really good kisser. And he was a really good kisser cuz he was such a slut. A straight slut who chased every hot piece of tail at school.
Just like Angel. He was totally straight and ok, he was between girlfriends and had been for a while, and he hadn’t really been looking but that’s because he and Spike had been doing the guy-thing…but not the guy-thing guy-thing, just….
When Spike’s tongue started teasing along Angel’s mouth, he was reluctant. Big-league gayness came along with that tongue. What they were doing now was just-ok, well he had no real justification for it, but it seemed obvious to him that it wasn’t as bad to kiss Spike without tongue as it was with. And yet…it was so tempting. It begged entrance-politely, even-with little licks and moist touches. It wasn’t pushy, and there were soothing fingers combing along his scalp, and so he couldn’t be blamed when his lips just sorta popped open of their own volition.
He heard Spike’s greedy exhale as the tongue slipped into Angel’s mouth. Now that it had gotten its way, that tongue was a little presumptuous, taking all kinds of liberties with Angel’s teeth and tongue and the roof of his mouth. It was slick and tasted a little like soda. Spike was rocking in his lap. Was that Angel that moaned? God. Spike. Really….. Really great kisser. And not like a girl…at all. And-
Angel didn’t really question how they ended up horizontal. One minute Spike had him sorta wedged into the corner of the car because Angel was trying to lean away from him, obviously, and then the next minute, he was just kind of…not-vertical, stretched out along the bench, and Spike was crawling on top of him, and Jesus, Angel was a little bit warm.
“Spike,” Angel panted when his friend finally stopped sucking his face off and moved on to his neck.
“Yeah, pet?” The words vibrated against Angel’s throat with amusement and then Spike was back to biting and sucking and…rubbing and oh god. Pet? That was…. Um.
“Spike, it’s a little…we should crack a window.” What?? That wasn’t what he was supposed to be saying. Repeat after me: No, Spike, I’m not gay. I won’t judge you if you are, but stop giving me a hickey right now because-
Spike chuckled, tongue laving at the flesh in the hollow under Angel’s chin, and Angel might just have been craning his neck back to give him better access. The dirty sound of Spike’s laugh…did things to Angel that it had never ever done before. He was getting hard for Spike’s laugh. He was…actually, Angel was pretty sure that verb belonged in the past tense, properly. No participle. He was hard. For Spike.
Oh God.
Spike’s breath was hot on his ear, and that was Angel’s only warning before teeth scraped over his lobe and bit down hard enough to make him gasp. Spike’s voice was all gravelly, and Angel hardly recognized it. “You saying I make you hot, luv?”
More heat flooded Angel’s crotch. Oh god, this was so wrong. Angel’s jaw flopped uselessly as Spike’s tongue curled into his ear. “I…It’s….” He made a sound that was suspiciously like a whimper when Spike’s hand squeezed his hard-on through his jeans.
“Actually, don’t answer that. Think I figured it out myself.”
Smug asshole.
When Spike leaned in to steal another kiss with his hand still on Angel’s dick…groping him, panic bubbled up about where this was going. “Spike??”
He was only a little surprised when Spike actually stopped and pulled back to look at him. He was really surprised, however, to realize that Spike looked…well not scared, but-something. Not nearly as certain as he was pretending to be. Spike was never as tough as he liked to pretend, and it was so him to barrel on through even though he was freaking out. Just as it was so Angel to put up a fuss when he could have shoved Spike aside at any moment, if he hadn’t wanted this.
Spike was watching him with a little frown between his brows. Waiting.
Angel craned his neck and pressed his mouth to Spike’s, hand curling around the base of Spike’s neck to anchor the kiss. Spike moaned and kissed back, biting at Angel’s bottom lip. Teeth. There were teeth.
And hands. Angel’s stayed in place for a long time, because he was scared to move them. He didn’t know what else to do with them, except rest them awkwardly at the other boy’s neck and waist. With a girl, you sort of…petted them gently, right, because you had to kind of reassure them, and also it was the only way to sneak your hands into places they wouldn’t let you put them outright. But if he was soft like that with Spike, he’d never hear the end of it.
Spike wasn’t having issues with the concept though. His hands were greedy, sliding under Angel’s shirt to knead and rub and tweak Angel’s nipple, making his gasp. They were both moaning now, and panting, and pushing against one another, and Angel could tell that Spike was hard too. Angel didn’t have to apologize or hide his arousal, not when Spike was blatantly grinding his into Angel’s hip. The whole thing was so surreal, and Angel’s worry hadn’t gone away so much as blended into one big haze of crazy static in his brain, one that he could live with as long as they didn’t stop touching.
And it didn’t look like it was going to be a problem. Even breathing was secondary.
There was only one thing wrong here, and that was that Angel couldn’t figure out how the hell he had been voted the girl here. With that in mind, he rolled them abruptly, but the seat was pretty narrow and Spike almost fell off, swearing a blue streak. Laughing, Angel caught him before he slipped down to the floorboards and slid him onto his back on the seat.
“You stupid sod-mrmmrph….”
Angel was laughing too hard to kiss him properly, suddenly lighter in his heart, so he stopped trying and grinned down at Spike, who looked all prickly and rumpled. “You know, this isn’t such a bad idea if it means I can shut you up that easily.”
Angel mashed his mouth down on any smart-alecky thing that Spike had been about to say. Spike nipped him hard, but then he just melted and made hot achey sounds when Angel groped his ass, tongue tangling into Spike’s mouth.
Spike’s legs sprawled open, so Angel shifted until his pelvis lay between, and it wasn’t long until things got hot and heavy again, both of them making awkward, excited thrusts. Spike slipped his hands under the hem of Angel’s t-shirt, palms flat against broad shoulder blades as he leveraged his whole body off the bench, flexing their bodies together in this roll that made Angel lose his mind. He was desperate to increase the pressure, groping at the tight globes of Spike’s butt and pressing him upward to rock against Angel’s hard-on-and Spike let him. Groaned his approval into Angel’s mouth and encouraged him, fingers kneading at Angel’s butt cheek.
They both jumped guiltily when Spike’s foot kicked out against the steering wheel and triggered a brief, angry honk. Their eyes went wide and then they were laughing-nervous, giddy, like this was just another prank they were pulling off together and they’d nearly gotten caught. But then the laughter gave way to ragged breathing, and they were stuck staring at each other because they were both a little more clear-headed and it was awkward.
Angel swallowed thickly when Spike started to unbutton his own jeans. His insides squiggled with nervousness when he saw that Spike wasn’t wearing underwear. Of course he wasn’t…he never did, and Angel knew that. Seventeen years of mooning and skinnydipping and pantsing, and Spike’s cock shouldn’t have been news to him.
But this was a whole other ballgame.
Angel laughed a little when Spike reached for his pants, stomach flip-flopping sickly, but Spike ignored the sound as he shoved jeans and boxers down Angel’s thighs.
And then Spike was pulling Angel’s hips back down against him and there was-touching. Of his dick to Angel’s. And…it was…oh god.
His hips jerked forward convulsively. Spike swore.
When Angel’s hips started sliding against Spike’s more regularly, he was too preoccupied with his dick, and Spike’s, to manage a real kiss. They panted against each other’s mouths and clung as Angel thrust faster. They were both sweating, and Spike was inventing some new and colorful pet names that would have made Angel’s ears burn if he were really listening. The only semi-coherent thought in Angel’s head was that this wasn’t gonna last very long.
Spike went first, without reservation-eyes rolling closed, swearing and pulling hard on Angel’s hair. Angel was biting his lip, so close but a little shy of coming, of making this real. But hell, he was seventeen and nothing could stop him from coming, really, if you got him close enough. He looked down at Spike’s sleepy, self-satisfied expression and it all slammed home, what they were doing, and as his body froze in a messy convulsion, Angel shouted out “Fuck, Spike-” so there was really no pretending what was going on here. That he’d been thinking of someone else.
The sound of their breathing was loud in the small space. Angel felt drowsy and sort of warm. It was nice. He’d never come with someone else before, and it made him lazy, where jacking off was sort of like a reflex by now. Like brushing his teeth.
The warm feelings made him want to…nuzzle.
“Uh-Angel?”
“Mmm?”
Spike shifted restlessly underneath him. “Time to get up, mate. I think the film is over.”
Angel realized that he didn’t hear the jabber of a foreign language or thwapping stage kicks any more. Cars around them were starting. He ran a hand over his hair and sat up cautiously, but no one was looking. There was an awkward amount of fumbling with pants, and then more fumbling for the correct seat in the car, since Angel had ended up on the driver’s side.
Neither of them said anything, but sidelong glances revealed that Spike looked as rumpled and dazed as Angel felt. His hand was on the key in the ignition, but he didn’t start the car. They just kind of sat. And blinked.
Holy shit. They’d really just done that. And Angel…kind of wanted to do it again. Oh god, was he gay? Worse-was Spike his type?? He really couldn’t imagine picking Spike up for dates…giving him nice things. They’d kill each other inside of a month. There was no way he could be nice to Spike.
There was a sharp intake of air beside him that snapped Angel out of his circling panic. “So what do you reckon?” The fact that Spike wanted answers from Angel right now caught him off-guard, and before he could formulate a response, Spike clarified. “That Buffy chit. Heard she’s gunning for you, now that Riley’s moved to Iowa.”
Spike turned and looked at him, expression completely clear of anything that implied they’d just gotten each other off. And that it had been hot.
Angel was lost. “Um…. I don’t….”
“If you’re not interested, mind if I have a go at her?”
WHAT?? Spike was…totally serious, as far as he could tell. “Uh…sure. Be my guest.” Angel felt kind of dizzy.
Nodding, Spike turned the key and the old engine roared to life. The parking lot had cleared a bit, and he was able to throw the car in reverse and maneuver the old boat out into the isle without waiting. Angel kept stealing glances over at Spike, but he seemed totally unbothered. Like nothing had happened.
Right then Angel understood, starkly, why girls felt the need to ask him ‘What did this mean to you?’ after a heavy make-out session, and the fact that his real answer was usually ‘um…I had fun?’ was not really comforting at the moment.
“So,” Spike drawled, face turned away as he waited to turn out onto the road. “…Wanna stay over at mine on Friday?”
He sounded way too casual. Angel’s heart clenched, still feeling as though he were in unfamiliar terrain. “Yeah. Sure. Got nothing better to do.”
Spike looked over at him and there was a tense moment where Angel had no idea what he was thinking. Then a smile broke out wide over Spike’s face and he was laughing a little when he said, “You know how to make a bloke feel special,” and they were both grinning and laughing suddenly, foolish and not able to contain it.
Finally they got the giggles under control and Spike turned back to the road, tapping the steering wheel. “Was joking about Buffy. Sort of. I just….” Spike trailed off, shrugging awkwardly.
“Yeah,” Angel said, playing it off casually. “Well, you know, she’s hot.”
Angel’s hormones were doing a happy pants dance, and it had nothing to do with Buffy Summers.
A few awkward moments of silence hung in the air before Spike suddenly shot him a look. “You’d better not hog all the blankets again, wanker. I wake up all blue and shivering one more time, and you’re getting a boot up your arse.”
Now this was familiar. “Me? I’m the hog? I just have to hang onto them so I don’t get pushed right off the bed when you sprawl out and kick me in the kidneys at 3am, jackass-”
“Oi! Maybe if you weren’t such a bleeding fat-ass, I wouldn’t have to fight for a little room in my own bloody bed….”
Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. Some things didn’t change.
ps, I really need more spangel icons. any suggestions?
Title: The Drive-in
Author: Mel (btvslover82)
Pairing: Spangel
Rating: NC-17
Summary: teen human AU. boys making out and fooling around. in a car. much hotness to be had, there.
Warnings: uh. they're 17 take it or leave it.
Disclaimer: just playing with Joss's toys. he left the toybox open for us, but they still belong to him.
“Let’s go catch a movie,” Spike had said. “’M bored.” And God knows why, but Angel had fallen for the innocent expression on his face. Spike had sworn up and down that there would be no funny business. Just two blokes, takin’ in a show.
It went against all of Angel’s better judgement-he, of all people, should know that Spike couldn’t be trusted to keep his word.
But judgement had flown right out the window ever since Spike had kissed him…the first time. And yeah, there was no planet that Angel knew of where best friends were supposed to do that-guy best friends-but he couldn’t be held responsible. They’d been playing Grand Theft Auto, and when Angel had turned towards Spike for a high five, he’d gotten lips instead. It was like…a drive-by kissing-over so fast, all he could do was blink dumbly at the side of Spike’s head as the blond nonchalantly started the next level and told Angel to “pull his head out of his arse and shoot the bastard.”
Angel had nearly convinced himself he’d imagined the whole thing-which was a thought, in itself, that was too disturbing to be named. But then Spike cornered him by his locker after the tardy bell had rung, three days later. And again on their smoke break at work, the following Sunday. And again before gym. And then there had been that time when-
Well. It had happened…a few times. Until Angel told Spike that there was no way they could do this, and he didn’t even like guys, and could Spike please stop breathing in his ear because it was ticklish and oh. my. god. definitely no touching there. And then they’d gone back to being buddies, because that’s what they were. Spike had just been…curious, or something. And it was better that Spike get all curious with him, instead of some other dude, or it might have gotten out all over school that Spike was a curious guy and Angel would be stuck punching wise-asses across the mouth for the next two years until they could leave high school behind.
So, you know, when Spike had suggested the drive-in, Angel’s first thought had been…but then he figured they’d left all that behind, so he shouldn’t act all weird.
Spike just loved spending time in this old piece of shit he called a classic, that’s all. It was like his girlfriend, or something.
The movie started. Angel had his popcorn and Spike was sitting way over there, and everything was good. It was some kung fu flick, and Angel was so busy making fun of the bad fight choreography that he didn’t notice Spike sliding closer till he was sitting in the middle of the bench seat, with his thigh pressed up against Angel’s.
It was hot-the thigh, that is. In the way of being warm-temperatured, not…sexy. He felt like there ought to be a big neon sign over his head that read ‘Spike is touching me.’
The letters were probably pink.
Angel looked at his best friend out of the corner of his eye. “Um…Spike?”
“Mmm?” Spike’s eyes didn’t leave the screen, though his head tilted a little towards Angel to show his attention. He acted like nothing was going on, but he looked way too innocent.
“Why are you, um…shouldn’t you be over there, on your side?”
“Oh.” Spike turned and smiled at him disarmingly. His teeth were very white. “Wanted room to stretch my legs out…was a bit cramped behind the steering wheel.”
As if he were proving his point, he slouched down further in his seat, legs sprawling like always. His foot tangled with Angel’s. Angel was conscious of the way his heart was beating in his chest-god, get a grip already. They touched each other all the time on accident, and it didn’t mean anything.
“Gotta give the boys room to breath, you know?” Spike winked and turned back to the screen.
Angel blushed when he caught himself staring at Spike’s crotch. He cleared his throat and turned back to the movie. Not that he could concentrate on it. All he could think about was Spike’s warm leg against his. Spike’s whole side pressed up against his side. It was warm weather, so the heat of Spike’s arm brushed against his own, making his skin tingle. They weren’t shielded by leather jackets.
Angel didn’t look when Spike’s hand slid up close to his own crotch, but he was definitely aware that it happened.
And when Spike coughed and stretched both arms out along the back of the bench, Angel tensed, but he didn’t say anything this time. Spike always took up more room than a guy his size had any right to. Normally Angel would have made jokes about little-man syndrome, but he didn’t want to look stupid again, or like things were weird between the two of them.
And then…Spike’s fingers started toying with hair at the nape of Angel’s neck.
Angel jumped, yelping like he’d been stung, popcorn flinging out of the little paper sack. “Spike, what the hell-?!?!?!”
And that’s when Spike struck. Before Angel could even finish being wigged out, Spike’s hands trapped his head in a firm grip, his mouth was hard on Angel’s. He was practically in Angel’s lap now and-jeez, he could move fast when he wanted to-and Angel was panicking inside but….
When Spike pulled back a fraction and Angel found himself staring into familiar blue eyes that he’d never seen quite so close, he didn’t push Spike away and call him a sick bastard.
And when Spike closed the distance again and slid soft, dry lips against his own, Angel sorta dropped the popcorn and kissed back.
But only because Spike was a really good kisser. And he was a really good kisser cuz he was such a slut. A straight slut who chased every hot piece of tail at school.
Just like Angel. He was totally straight and ok, he was between girlfriends and had been for a while, and he hadn’t really been looking but that’s because he and Spike had been doing the guy-thing…but not the guy-thing guy-thing, just….
When Spike’s tongue started teasing along Angel’s mouth, he was reluctant. Big-league gayness came along with that tongue. What they were doing now was just-ok, well he had no real justification for it, but it seemed obvious to him that it wasn’t as bad to kiss Spike without tongue as it was with. And yet…it was so tempting. It begged entrance-politely, even-with little licks and moist touches. It wasn’t pushy, and there were soothing fingers combing along his scalp, and so he couldn’t be blamed when his lips just sorta popped open of their own volition.
He heard Spike’s greedy exhale as the tongue slipped into Angel’s mouth. Now that it had gotten its way, that tongue was a little presumptuous, taking all kinds of liberties with Angel’s teeth and tongue and the roof of his mouth. It was slick and tasted a little like soda. Spike was rocking in his lap. Was that Angel that moaned? God. Spike. Really….. Really great kisser. And not like a girl…at all. And-
Angel didn’t really question how they ended up horizontal. One minute Spike had him sorta wedged into the corner of the car because Angel was trying to lean away from him, obviously, and then the next minute, he was just kind of…not-vertical, stretched out along the bench, and Spike was crawling on top of him, and Jesus, Angel was a little bit warm.
“Spike,” Angel panted when his friend finally stopped sucking his face off and moved on to his neck.
“Yeah, pet?” The words vibrated against Angel’s throat with amusement and then Spike was back to biting and sucking and…rubbing and oh god. Pet? That was…. Um.
“Spike, it’s a little…we should crack a window.” What?? That wasn’t what he was supposed to be saying. Repeat after me: No, Spike, I’m not gay. I won’t judge you if you are, but stop giving me a hickey right now because-
Spike chuckled, tongue laving at the flesh in the hollow under Angel’s chin, and Angel might just have been craning his neck back to give him better access. The dirty sound of Spike’s laugh…did things to Angel that it had never ever done before. He was getting hard for Spike’s laugh. He was…actually, Angel was pretty sure that verb belonged in the past tense, properly. No participle. He was hard. For Spike.
Oh God.
Spike’s breath was hot on his ear, and that was Angel’s only warning before teeth scraped over his lobe and bit down hard enough to make him gasp. Spike’s voice was all gravelly, and Angel hardly recognized it. “You saying I make you hot, luv?”
More heat flooded Angel’s crotch. Oh god, this was so wrong. Angel’s jaw flopped uselessly as Spike’s tongue curled into his ear. “I…It’s….” He made a sound that was suspiciously like a whimper when Spike’s hand squeezed his hard-on through his jeans.
“Actually, don’t answer that. Think I figured it out myself.”
Smug asshole.
When Spike leaned in to steal another kiss with his hand still on Angel’s dick…groping him, panic bubbled up about where this was going. “Spike??”
He was only a little surprised when Spike actually stopped and pulled back to look at him. He was really surprised, however, to realize that Spike looked…well not scared, but-something. Not nearly as certain as he was pretending to be. Spike was never as tough as he liked to pretend, and it was so him to barrel on through even though he was freaking out. Just as it was so Angel to put up a fuss when he could have shoved Spike aside at any moment, if he hadn’t wanted this.
Spike was watching him with a little frown between his brows. Waiting.
Angel craned his neck and pressed his mouth to Spike’s, hand curling around the base of Spike’s neck to anchor the kiss. Spike moaned and kissed back, biting at Angel’s bottom lip. Teeth. There were teeth.
And hands. Angel’s stayed in place for a long time, because he was scared to move them. He didn’t know what else to do with them, except rest them awkwardly at the other boy’s neck and waist. With a girl, you sort of…petted them gently, right, because you had to kind of reassure them, and also it was the only way to sneak your hands into places they wouldn’t let you put them outright. But if he was soft like that with Spike, he’d never hear the end of it.
Spike wasn’t having issues with the concept though. His hands were greedy, sliding under Angel’s shirt to knead and rub and tweak Angel’s nipple, making his gasp. They were both moaning now, and panting, and pushing against one another, and Angel could tell that Spike was hard too. Angel didn’t have to apologize or hide his arousal, not when Spike was blatantly grinding his into Angel’s hip. The whole thing was so surreal, and Angel’s worry hadn’t gone away so much as blended into one big haze of crazy static in his brain, one that he could live with as long as they didn’t stop touching.
And it didn’t look like it was going to be a problem. Even breathing was secondary.
There was only one thing wrong here, and that was that Angel couldn’t figure out how the hell he had been voted the girl here. With that in mind, he rolled them abruptly, but the seat was pretty narrow and Spike almost fell off, swearing a blue streak. Laughing, Angel caught him before he slipped down to the floorboards and slid him onto his back on the seat.
“You stupid sod-mrmmrph….”
Angel was laughing too hard to kiss him properly, suddenly lighter in his heart, so he stopped trying and grinned down at Spike, who looked all prickly and rumpled. “You know, this isn’t such a bad idea if it means I can shut you up that easily.”
Angel mashed his mouth down on any smart-alecky thing that Spike had been about to say. Spike nipped him hard, but then he just melted and made hot achey sounds when Angel groped his ass, tongue tangling into Spike’s mouth.
Spike’s legs sprawled open, so Angel shifted until his pelvis lay between, and it wasn’t long until things got hot and heavy again, both of them making awkward, excited thrusts. Spike slipped his hands under the hem of Angel’s t-shirt, palms flat against broad shoulder blades as he leveraged his whole body off the bench, flexing their bodies together in this roll that made Angel lose his mind. He was desperate to increase the pressure, groping at the tight globes of Spike’s butt and pressing him upward to rock against Angel’s hard-on-and Spike let him. Groaned his approval into Angel’s mouth and encouraged him, fingers kneading at Angel’s butt cheek.
They both jumped guiltily when Spike’s foot kicked out against the steering wheel and triggered a brief, angry honk. Their eyes went wide and then they were laughing-nervous, giddy, like this was just another prank they were pulling off together and they’d nearly gotten caught. But then the laughter gave way to ragged breathing, and they were stuck staring at each other because they were both a little more clear-headed and it was awkward.
Angel swallowed thickly when Spike started to unbutton his own jeans. His insides squiggled with nervousness when he saw that Spike wasn’t wearing underwear. Of course he wasn’t…he never did, and Angel knew that. Seventeen years of mooning and skinnydipping and pantsing, and Spike’s cock shouldn’t have been news to him.
But this was a whole other ballgame.
Angel laughed a little when Spike reached for his pants, stomach flip-flopping sickly, but Spike ignored the sound as he shoved jeans and boxers down Angel’s thighs.
And then Spike was pulling Angel’s hips back down against him and there was-touching. Of his dick to Angel’s. And…it was…oh god.
His hips jerked forward convulsively. Spike swore.
When Angel’s hips started sliding against Spike’s more regularly, he was too preoccupied with his dick, and Spike’s, to manage a real kiss. They panted against each other’s mouths and clung as Angel thrust faster. They were both sweating, and Spike was inventing some new and colorful pet names that would have made Angel’s ears burn if he were really listening. The only semi-coherent thought in Angel’s head was that this wasn’t gonna last very long.
Spike went first, without reservation-eyes rolling closed, swearing and pulling hard on Angel’s hair. Angel was biting his lip, so close but a little shy of coming, of making this real. But hell, he was seventeen and nothing could stop him from coming, really, if you got him close enough. He looked down at Spike’s sleepy, self-satisfied expression and it all slammed home, what they were doing, and as his body froze in a messy convulsion, Angel shouted out “Fuck, Spike-” so there was really no pretending what was going on here. That he’d been thinking of someone else.
The sound of their breathing was loud in the small space. Angel felt drowsy and sort of warm. It was nice. He’d never come with someone else before, and it made him lazy, where jacking off was sort of like a reflex by now. Like brushing his teeth.
The warm feelings made him want to…nuzzle.
“Uh-Angel?”
“Mmm?”
Spike shifted restlessly underneath him. “Time to get up, mate. I think the film is over.”
Angel realized that he didn’t hear the jabber of a foreign language or thwapping stage kicks any more. Cars around them were starting. He ran a hand over his hair and sat up cautiously, but no one was looking. There was an awkward amount of fumbling with pants, and then more fumbling for the correct seat in the car, since Angel had ended up on the driver’s side.
Neither of them said anything, but sidelong glances revealed that Spike looked as rumpled and dazed as Angel felt. His hand was on the key in the ignition, but he didn’t start the car. They just kind of sat. And blinked.
Holy shit. They’d really just done that. And Angel…kind of wanted to do it again. Oh god, was he gay? Worse-was Spike his type?? He really couldn’t imagine picking Spike up for dates…giving him nice things. They’d kill each other inside of a month. There was no way he could be nice to Spike.
There was a sharp intake of air beside him that snapped Angel out of his circling panic. “So what do you reckon?” The fact that Spike wanted answers from Angel right now caught him off-guard, and before he could formulate a response, Spike clarified. “That Buffy chit. Heard she’s gunning for you, now that Riley’s moved to Iowa.”
Spike turned and looked at him, expression completely clear of anything that implied they’d just gotten each other off. And that it had been hot.
Angel was lost. “Um…. I don’t….”
“If you’re not interested, mind if I have a go at her?”
WHAT?? Spike was…totally serious, as far as he could tell. “Uh…sure. Be my guest.” Angel felt kind of dizzy.
Nodding, Spike turned the key and the old engine roared to life. The parking lot had cleared a bit, and he was able to throw the car in reverse and maneuver the old boat out into the isle without waiting. Angel kept stealing glances over at Spike, but he seemed totally unbothered. Like nothing had happened.
Right then Angel understood, starkly, why girls felt the need to ask him ‘What did this mean to you?’ after a heavy make-out session, and the fact that his real answer was usually ‘um…I had fun?’ was not really comforting at the moment.
“So,” Spike drawled, face turned away as he waited to turn out onto the road. “…Wanna stay over at mine on Friday?”
He sounded way too casual. Angel’s heart clenched, still feeling as though he were in unfamiliar terrain. “Yeah. Sure. Got nothing better to do.”
Spike looked over at him and there was a tense moment where Angel had no idea what he was thinking. Then a smile broke out wide over Spike’s face and he was laughing a little when he said, “You know how to make a bloke feel special,” and they were both grinning and laughing suddenly, foolish and not able to contain it.
Finally they got the giggles under control and Spike turned back to the road, tapping the steering wheel. “Was joking about Buffy. Sort of. I just….” Spike trailed off, shrugging awkwardly.
“Yeah,” Angel said, playing it off casually. “Well, you know, she’s hot.”
Angel’s hormones were doing a happy pants dance, and it had nothing to do with Buffy Summers.
A few awkward moments of silence hung in the air before Spike suddenly shot him a look. “You’d better not hog all the blankets again, wanker. I wake up all blue and shivering one more time, and you’re getting a boot up your arse.”
Now this was familiar. “Me? I’m the hog? I just have to hang onto them so I don’t get pushed right off the bed when you sprawl out and kick me in the kidneys at 3am, jackass-”
“Oi! Maybe if you weren’t such a bleeding fat-ass, I wouldn’t have to fight for a little room in my own bloody bed….”
Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. Some things didn’t change.