♥ 5 ♥
It was still the middle of the night when the two combatants
decided they had had enough fun. Staggering up the stairs with their arms over each other's
shoulders, they paused in the kitchen while Angel made Spike feed again; then they weaved and
stumbled their way to the second floor, each claiming victory to the other's derision, and
headed for a hot shower. Their camaraderie became a little stiffer as they walked into Angel's
room, but they bluffed their way past any lingering reservations and, as casually as possible,
stripped whilst letting the warm water reach the shower from the boilers below.
Angel debated waiting until Spike made the first move and decided to resist managing the course
of things. After all, he had let Spike take the lead for most of this encounter, and look where
it had gotten them so far. He stepped into the steaming shower and let the water run over his
face, rubbing the sweat and blood off with his hands then turned to speak to Spike but found
only empty space. He tried to convince his stomach to crawl back down out of his throat by
swallowing rapidly. Just because his skittish childe wasn't visible didn't mean anything bad,
necessarily. He hovered on the edge of panic, resolutely refusing to give in to his doubts, and
was rewarded by the sight of a completely nude Spike sauntering into the bathroom with a tumbler
in each hand.
"A bit of the Irish, Mate?" he asked in an imitation of Angelus' lilting accent. Angel reached
out and accepted his whiskey, feeling a great deal more in need of it than when they staggered
up the stairs. Spike eyed him with fond amusement.
"I'll try not to disappear so suddenly on you, Ducks." He observed smugly. It was clear to him
that Angel had feared the worst when he turned to find an empty room behind him and just as
clear that he was struggling to hide it, for fear Spike would take offense. Prior to their
post-kiss conversation he might, in fact, have done so, but now that some bridge beyond that of
Sire/Childe had been formed, he found he was warmed by the value Angel's fear indicated he
placed on him. "Got room in there for two, Luv?" he asked rhetorically as he climbed in.
Angel moved aside and let Spike under the direct spray, savoring the sight of the water running,
this time, over a visible body. Not as erotic in some ways, but ultimately more satisfying.
Pumping some shower gel into his hand and lathering it up, Angel slid his hands over Spike's
shoulders and back, keeping his movements, for the moment, familiar but non-arousing. Spike
backed out of the direct spray, making a pleased "mmm" in his throat. Angel reached around him
and soaped his chest, not avoiding the obvious erogenous zones but not fixating on them either.
Turning them both around so that the water hit his back and Spike faced the wall opposite, Angel
massaged each of Spike's arms and finished by placing them on the wall slightly above his head.
Spike gratefully leaned his weight, surrendering to Angel's non-provocative ministrations. Angel
knelt behind his childe to work on his legs, then as he rose, let his hands' soapy caress linger
on Spike's flawless ass before sweeping around to his lower abdomen and genitals. Not
surprisingly, given the muted vocal approval Spike had been uttering despite Angel's tactile
restraint, Spike's cock was already hard. After a gentle and not quite so chaste washing, Angel
stepped away and tried to pull Spike back to rinse in the water.
Spike, however, had other things on his mind. Using his slippery condition to his advantage, he
escaped Angel's grasp and, gathering a handful of shower gel himself, proceeded to use his entire
body to apply the lather to the front of Angel while reaching around to suds his back and
buttocks in a decidedly inflammatory manner. Arguably, just as much cleaning was going on as
when Angel had been in charge, but the effects, like the intent, were entirely different.
Somewhere between moaning shamelessly and struggling to remain on his feet, Angel concluded that
Spike felt no compunction about stepping outside his role of childe: he decided, in his last
moment of rational thought for a while, that this was a good thing.
Spike was elated beyond belief. The sheer intimacy of the simple act of washing seemed more
precious than any crass sexual joining. He was touching his Sire in ways that he had only
dreamed of before. Angelus had not been much for bathtub games in the old days: assisting your
Sire in getting clean before the water could cool had been serious business. Not succeeding
had been a flogging offence at the very least. Showers and running water, in Spike's opinion,
were brilliant, and if the water heater in the Hyperion was intended to service all the rooms,
then the chance of their single shower exhausting the hot water supply seemed slim. He didn't
often turn his demonic mind towards thoughts of heaven, but this bloody well came close. Now all
he needed was to get his Sire out of the shower and into a bed.
In point of fact, Spike found it amazingly easy to maneuver Angel onto the large bed. He made a
few cursory passes over him with a towel before looping it around the back of Angel's neck and
pulling him, glistening with droplets, as he backed out of the bathroom, then he crawled
backwards onto the bed, dropping the towel but maintaining eye contact, wordlessly daring Angel
Angel had long since surrendered to operating on instinct, and that instinct was not going to
let him get very far away from Spike. He burned with a raging desire to touch his childe, to
meld with him until there was no way of telling where one began and the other ended. Still,
there was an instinctive sense that he needed to avoid any actions that might be a remnant of
their earlier combat. This needed, for Spike's sake, to be a joining, not a conquest. Angel
crawled onto the bed, and instead of grabbing Spike (as all his Sire's instincts were telling
him to do) he lay down and rolled onto his back: once again giving his childe the symbolic
position of strength.
Spike's eyes widened slightly at Angel taking what could be considered a submissive position.
Not that Angelus hadn't made Spike ride his cock in the past, but he had made sure to well
establish his dominance before commanding his childe to take that role. What was making Spike's
magically-propelled pulse race was the level, almost daring look that Angel was gazing up at him
with: it practically challenged him to take advantage of his superior position, and Spike was
ever one for taking up challenges, particularly when they were delivered with a raised eyebrow
and a silent, self-satisfied smirk.
Spike lowered to one side facing Angel, supported on an elbow with that forearm snaking under
Angel's neck so Spike could wrap his fingers in Angel's hair on the opposite side. He let his
other hand skate lightly across Angel's pecs, playing lackadaisically with first one nipple then
the other. The entire time he watched the deep brown eyes below him for some indication that
this sufferance of his behavior was coming to an end. Seeing only amusement and not a little
lust glinting up at him, Spike, with a metaphorical shrug, bent slowly to Angel's lips, closed
his eyes and gave himself over to kissing his Sire as he had never kissed him before. All the
longing, the jealousy, the loneliness, the passion, even the hate that he felt for this vampire
that made him came pouring out of his mouth and into Angel's. It was as if having once given
Angel all his blood, he now gave Angel the soul that he knew he no longer owned.
The next indefinable while was a tangle of limbs, tongues, and heat. Neither of them was aware of
anything more than feeling good. The fact that Spike now lay on top of Angel, who had spread
his legs to nestle Spike between them and wrapped them around to hold him in place, or that
Angel's arms were also wrapped around Spike's torso in a never-still, serpentine dance of
possession and surrender, or that their bodies were taut with the urge to find friction one
against the other, did not intrude on a conscious level at all. They only knew that touch,
taste, and friction were being gratified, and the mechanics of it were of no interest in the
Eventually, Spike pulled away far enough to see Angel, wondering if the glowing he felt coming
from his own would be reflected there in Angel's face. To Spike, Angel looked as if he were made
of burnished bronze lit by firelight, ruddy and warm. To Angel, basking in a closeness he was
not sure he had ever experienced before, Spike looked paradoxically angelic, flushed with youth
Spike spoke, huskily but softly, his eyes fluttering down as if embarrassed or shy.
"I want you, Angel. Can I? . . ."
Angel was too turned on by the declaration to answer the question aloud, so he settled for
nodding once, slowly and clearly. Spike knew from examining Angel's room while dressing that
what he needed now was in the nightstand drawer. He moved away from Angel to reach it, and when
he moved back he straddled Angel's legs. Putting a bit of lube on one hand he gently skimmed
over the length of Angel's engorged cock, making Angel close his eyes and groan softly at the
sensation. Seeing his Sire so distracted, Spike reached around behind himself and quickly
lubricated his entrance. As soon as that was done, he shifted his legs and his grip and carefully
impaled himself on Angel.
Angel had been luxuriating in the feeling of someone else's hand sliding slickly over him,
assuming that it was foreplay on Spike's part before proceeding to other areas they had never
pursued together before. He was so involved in not tensing at the idea of Spike's lubed finger
sliding into his arsehole that he was completely taken unawares when he felt his shaft sliding
slowly into Spike's familiar arse. His eyes flew open, and he gasped at the unexpected tightness,
as well as the look of absolute rapture that informed Spike's momentarily unfamiliar face.
This was not William riding on command; the platinum blonde hair accentuated Spike's incredibly
blue eyes, and the lean times had rendered his cheekbones razor-like. Angel had been afraid it
would be hard to separate the past from the present once the lust for his boy took hold, but
this vision, transformed by naked reaction playing across his guise, was someone Angel had
The passion of a century had, for him in that moment, been made anew.
Spike sank onto Angel and into the welcoming sense of familiarity these sensations brought him.
For a fleeting moment, it was a hundred years ago and his Sire had never left him, then he
looked down and saw raw emotion painted over the angelic visage that haunted his dreams. He saw
lust and passion, which he expected to see, but he also saw surprise, awe, and something that
looked at once like humility and triumph. The shock rendered him suddenly still, eyes seeing
Angel, as he realized that Angel was seeing him: William and Angelus had no real part in what
was happening between them now; this was Angel and Spike.
"Spike?" Angel's soft inquiry snapped Spike out of his entranced state. Seeing him come to the
present, Angel let out an expressive, breathy moan. "You're killing me here, Spike. Move."
Spike flashed a cocky grin as he heard Angel beg for him, biting his lip as Angel returned
the grin unrepentantly. He began moving exquisitely slowly up and down Angel's shaft, glorying
in the newness of the feeling and the looks it drew out of Angel's face, but soon their shared
urgency overtook them, and he moved faster, Angel's hands coming to rest on Spike's hips guiding
the rhythmic strokes. As Angel's hips began to thrust up from the mattress to meet Spike's down
strokes, Spike closed his hand on his needy, weeping shaft. This touch was anything but gentle
as he knowledgeably drove his arousal into the rafters while shortening his rise and fall to
concentrate the head of Angel's cock repeatedly over his prostate.
As Angel felt the beginning
flutters of Spike's orgasm tightening around his over-stimulated cock, his hand joined Spike's
in pushing him over the edge. Angel felt Spike jerk uncontrollably on top of him while shooting
semen on their hands and chests, and then he pulled a semi-coherent Spike down to kiss him as he
erupted inside Spike's still-clenching arse. Angel held Spike to his chest, and eventually the
blonde untangled his long legs so that he was lying once again between his Sire's legs. He tried
to move aside, but Angel refused to let him go, making soothing rumbles in his chest and
stroking the mussed platinum hair.
As the stickiness
between them began to dry, Angel rolled Spike over onto his back and got a towel and a damp
washcloth. He carefully cleaned a sleepily amused Spike before cleaning himself and returning to
their bed. Pulling the covers up over them both, Angel snuggled next to Spike who gave a sigh of
pretended exasperation and rolled over so that he was using Angel's chest as a pillow, and Angel
could put an arm around him. Once settled, Spike shifted again in order to crook one leg over
"Satisfied, ya ponce?" he taunted insincerely. Angel merely tightened his arms momentarily and
rumbled lowly until they both fell asleep.
♦ 5 ♦