Home | Balancing Actl Index | Sequel Index
'Where were you?'
'Well, that's helpful and mature.'
Angel rose and went to pour another drink. He waved at the wall. 'I'd get you one, but the glass broke.'
'So, you're oppressed.'
'Wesley's got a big mouth.'
'I wouldn't know. I've never pushed anything into it.'
'Oh, grow up, Angel.'
'No! I don't think I will! I like coming back to an empty apartment and feeling lonely too fucking much!'
Spike went out into the courtyard and tried to take calming breaths. As he didn't need the oxygen, this ending up making him feel more tense, so that when he sensed Angel's presence behind him, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.
'I have to get up early. I have to work. I'm going to bed.'
'Good that I have to work? Or good that I'm leaving you alone to piss around in this childish mood and not give you the satisfaction to not tell me what's wrong?'
Angel hesitated. 'That sounded better in my head.'
Spike smiled and held out his hand, which was taken willingly enough.
'Hi, by the way. I think we forgot to say that somewhere tonight.'
'For what, Spike? For finding this so fucking weird that you need to run away from it for a while?'
'Yeah. I think so.'
Angel pulled him close and brushed a lock of hair off his forehead. 'Don't talk to Wesley about us. Talk to me.'
Spike tipped his head on one side. 'I've never told Wesley anything about us.'
'Good. Keep it that way.'
Angel turned and led Spike by the hand to the bed. Spike was glad Angel didn't turn and see the look that he knew was on his face. He couldn't help it. It seemed frozen there, but whether it was from the way he was being led, or from Angel's words, he didn't care to analyse.
Once they reached the bed, they both seemed at something of a loss what to do.
The usual routine had been broken. They were neither in the throes of unbearable lust for each other's bodies, nor in a relaxed, loving, playful mood. They were both tense, and the first initiation of sex was painful: Angel pulling Spike to him so hard that a faint crack in his wrist was heard by both of them. Angel's eyes dilated at the small hiss of pain this elicited, and he kissed Spike roughly, his hand roaming down to unzip him, thrusting his fingers into the opening with no finesse.
'I don't want to come here and find you gone again.'
Spike pulled his mouth away and bit Angel's cheek. It was savage and uncalled for, but as he pulled back, blood reddening his mouth, he said distinctly, 'That sounded like an order.'
Angel seemed confused by the bite. He pulled his hand away from Spike's cock and laid his fingers on the tear on his cheek, pulling them away, frowning. Suddenly, he lashed out and punched Spike, centuries of practice ensuring that the blow was accurate and painful. Blood spurted from Spike's nose, and he sat up on the bed, cradling it in both hands, drops falling onto his jeans, catching on the hairs that wisped enticingly out of his open zipper.
Angel hissed with pleasure and thrust his face into the opening, rubbing his torn cheek on the rough hair. Spike took his hands away from his face and ran bloodied fingers through Angel's hair. It was all the encouragement Angel needed, and he pressed his face in more, hands cupping and pulling Spike free.
Angel stared at the achingly hard cock for a moment, released the tight balls and arranged them below, separated. 'You bit me.'
Spike arched with the anticipation of pain, and he was not disappointed. Angel took his anger out on the hardness until it was soft. He took his pain and hurt out on the decorative arrangement of cock and balls until they were not so pretty. He took out his blinding panic that Spike had stopped loving him on the soft skin and enticing veins until they could not be distinguished from the blood that continued to drip from Spike's face.
Spike was unconscious by the time he had finished with his game, and he lay back alongside him, refusing to look into the corners of the room.
He tried to make time dance to his tune now: trying desperately to turn it back so that he could come into the apartment and find Spike waiting for him. Time refused to play; he could not torture it; so he let it be.
Spike came back to an awareness of pain with a grunt of distress. He'd thought he'd missed this. He realised, with a wave of nausea, that he hadn't.
He felt something being pressed to his lips and sipped some clear, fresh water, then drank greedily from the bottle until it was withdrawn. A wet cloth was played over his face, clearing away tears he'd shed toward the end. He turned his head and saw that light was beginning to creep through the trees, a pale, watery dawn that depressed him.
'Don't go to work today. Please.' His words startled them both.
Angel held the cloth away. 'All right.'
Spike closed his eyes. 'I'm sorry.'
'I know you are.'
'It's not enough, is it?'
'I need for you to tell me what's wrong.'
'I don't know what's wrong.'
Angel let the cloth drop to the floor and pulled him very carefully into his arms, trying not to enjoy his wince of pain. 'I love you.'
'I know you do. You know how I feel about you.'
He felt something relax fractionally in Angel at this. He glanced up. 'Did you think I'd stopped loving you?'
Angel hesitated then said simply, 'I expect it every day, Spike. Every day, I expect to walk in here and find that you've gone. Last night you had.'
Spike struggled to sit up. Maddeningly, he felt like crying and bit his lip to make the pain distract him. He had little need; the pain from his tattered body was distraction enough. 'Is that what love has to be?'
'What?' Angel ran his fingers distractedly through Spike's hair.
Spike wanted to cry out: Possession! You're suffocating me! Instead, he said softly, 'I love you so much, Angel. All the hate's turned to love, and you know how much I hated you.' He'd not meant this to be funny, but they both seemed to find it so and suddenly chuckled softly into each other's flesh. Some sense of normality retuned, and Angel glanced down and swore softly.
'Jesus. I hurt you. I'm… sorry.'
Spike lifted the sheet and inspected the damage ruefully. 'As I don't need to pee, and as I stopped wanking when we started fucking, I'm thinking you're the one who's gonna suffer the most from this.'
Angel suddenly sat up and buried his face into his knees, folding his arms over his head. Spike recognised Angel's attempt to escape from something he never could and put his head sadly on Angel's shoulder. 'Hey. Luv….'
'I'm sorry.' The voice was muffled and Spike slipped his hand around Angel's waist.
'Help me heal, maybe?'
Angel seized on the chance to make things right, ripping at his wrist with sharp fangs, then changing his mind and baring his neck instead. He stretched out on the bed and let Spike feed from him and when he heard a faint mewing, he could not have said which of them made that sound of pleasure.
Spike fed long and deep, far more than he had ever been granted before. He felt Angel's essence flowing into him, and it was not altogether sweet. It was complex, troubled and dark, but it was powerful, and that power infused him with its healing strength. By the time he stopped, Angel would not have been able to prevent him continuing if he'd wished. His sire lay almost insensible on the bed alongside him, very pale, very cold, and very vulnerable. Spike pulled the covers over them both and, in that false night, held him close and tried also to force the clock back. He wanted it to go further back than Angel had, and he fell asleep with a sense of desolation in his heart that gave him troubled dreams of a capitulation that should never have been made and a possession that he had never asked for.
When they awoke, the darkness of the apartment made their nest under the covers totally black. Each sensed the other was awake, and Angel said quietly, 'Are you okay?'
Spike took hold of his hand and placed it on his cock. 'Why don't you find out for yourself?'
Angel groaned and slid down the smooth, warm body. 'I'm so hungry.'
Spike arched as Angel took him in, running his fingers through the dark locks. 'Fill up with me, Luv.'
Angel slid his lips right down the hard, healed shaft to the root, where he let them rest, allowing the head to rub against his throat for a while. Spike bucked and writhed satisfactorily in his arms, making the contact on his throat very pleasurable for both of them. When he felt sufficiently hard himself, he began to work the cock with his mouth, up and down the long column, his tongue exploring the velvety soft skin, revelling in the sense of its newness: virgin territory once more on this familiar body.
Spike began to curse, and Angel smiled into the wiry hair as he plunged down once more. It was always a good sign when he made Spike swear. He was hungry enough to actually feel his stomach rumble at the thought of swallowing Spike, so brought his fingers up and teased them over Spike's tight sac as he sucked. Cursing turned incoherent and Angel slid his fingers down, off the balls, over the thin, tight skin that led to his entrance. He tickled them over this slightly sweat-damp area, trailing the tips of his immaculate nails over its sensitivity, up and down to the same rhythm he kept up on the cock.
Everything went rigid - Spike, his cock, his balls - and then everything went limp and liquid and warm, and release flooded his mouth and fed him as he quivered into the sheets, brought to orgasm by the feel of Spike in his mouth.
He swallowed greedily, knowing he'd do this again in a few minutes, when Spike had recovered enough to feed him again. His stomach welcomed the fluid that was so like blood it was fooled for a while, hunger assuaged.
With a sigh they settled into each other's arms, playing with skin and hair, wondering if they were good now, if they could play with words as well.
'We slept the whole day, Angel.'
'You needed it.'
'You did, too.'
'Yeah. Maybe I did.'
'I'm sorry. I know I already said that, but I'm sorry. I went out cus I knew you wanted me here when you got in. I wanted pain; I thought I wanted yours, but it was mine I missed.'
'I gave you pain. I wish I hadn't now. I love you, and I don't want to hurt you anymore. We did that. We've done that so many times. I want something new.'
'I know.' He tangled his fingers in Angel's hair, tugging his head back, gazing into the deep brown eyes. 'You look hungry again.'
Angel groaned and began to slide down Spike's body once more, but Spike suddenly pushed him onto his back and straddled his chest. He looked down at the supine figure then knelt up and braced his hands behind Angel's head. 'Suck me. Open that pretty mouth of yours.' It was so unexpected that Angel opened his mouth to protest and found it brushed by the tip of Spike's wet cock as Spike held it down and tickled it over his lips.
He swallowed and let the protest die in his throat. Slowly, never taking his eyes from Angel's, Spike fed him his cock, controlling how much Angel was allowed to have, easing it in and out to his desire, his need, and making Angel beg.
They both sensed that something of Spike's inability to say what was wrong was being worked through in this strange reversal of their usual roles.
Angel, Spike noted, seemed to find this reversal very acceptable. He could feel the urgent erection pressing against his spread cheeks as he squatted over him. The temptation to lower himself onto that hardness almost overwhelmed him, but he resisted and denied Angel his cock for a moment, holding it just out of reach of the eager, seeking tongue, until he'd punished them both enough and allowed it to be licked once more.
When he finally came, he made sure he was deep in Angel's throat, so deep he was sure it must be painful, but Angel didn't seem to mind. He groaned around the spurting fluid, swallowing furiously and working himself until Spike felt a something splash against his cheeks then trickle down his cleft and over his hole. He lowered himself onto Angel's belly and wriggled slightly, mashing sperm between them, releasing its potent aroma into the already scent-laden air.
They regarded each other for a long time, both processing what had just happened. Finally Angel said softly, 'I'm not sure I should have enjoyed that.'
Spike smiled, a small, crooked grin. 'But you did.' He cocked up his scarred eyebrow in a gesture he knew Angel couldn't resist.
Spike grinned again.
Suddenly, Angel said, with a glint in his eye, 'Let's go out tonight and find something to kill.'
Spike moaned softly. 'You and me?'
'Yeah. We'll go remind the evil of L.A. that we're still around.'
Spike slid off, feeling a sense of calm settle over him. The despair and madness he'd felt creeping upon him earlier was now pushed to one side, dissipated slightly by the events of the night.
They wandered along through the hot night air together. This part of town had many houses almost as big as Innocent's, but these others seemed to have been divided into tiny apartments, and the place attracted artists, writers, musicians, and feckless youths who wanted to be thought one or the other of those.
Angel always felt intensely ill at ease whenever they had ventured out for a drink in the early days- all of two weeks ago. He shivered slightly when he realised how new this all still was, and Spike glanced over questioningly.
Not voicing his thoughts on the odd assortment of people milling around, Angel murmured, 'I thought we were okay. You never said anything was wrong.'
Spike stopped and stared at his feet for a moment, and Angel had the terrifying desire to stop him speaking, a premonition that whatever came out of his mouth would destroy them both. Irrationally, however, he said, 'What?' in a slightly high-pitched voice.
Spike glanced up through lowered lids. 'I was just thinking I want to kiss you-wondering what your reaction would be.'
Angel took such a large, swift step back that Spike laughed. 'Yeah. I kinda had the feeling that would be it.' He nudged Angel affectionately and carried on walking.
'We are okay, Angel. Whatever is wrong is wrong with me- not us, not you.'
Angel frowned as if the conversation were physically painful and said miserably, 'It's the same thing, isn't it?'
It was such a heartfelt plea to be reassured that Spike suddenly glanced around and hedged him into an ally, just steering him in at first then, when they were some distance from other people, taking his arm and pulling him into a dark recess behind some stacked crates. He put his hand up and caressed Angel's cheek. 'Two weeks…. Jesus. It feels like I've loved you three lifetimes, Angel.'
Mollified slightly, Angel put his arms around Spike's waist. 'I don't want to hurt you, Spike. I always hurt you, and I don't want to. Not any more.'
Spike laid a finger over his lips. 'Don't. We both needed it. Whatever else we are, Angel, we're still demons.'
Angel tightened his grip around Spike's waist, and Spike sensed there was something coming, something Angel needed this additional support to say. 'Maybe….' Angel hesitated then ploughed on. 'Maybe you need to get back to that?'
'Huh? Being a demon?'
'Well, you don't… do anything, Spike.' He pulled away and thrust his hands in his pockets, hunching his shoulders as if preparing for a verbal onslaught.
Spike debated giving him one, but only echoed icily, 'I don't do anything.'
'You lie around in bed all day.'
'Waiting for you!'
'Except… you didn't. You went out to avoid me.' He saw Spike's confusion and added hastily, 'And I think maybe that's what you need- your own life again.' Suddenly, he added with a slight edge of panic to his voice, 'Just occasionally. Not every night. I mean… Fuck!'
'That all sounded better in your head again, hey?'
Angel relaxed his shoulders. 'Yeah. Last night… when you were unconscious….' He recovered from saying that word and continued, 'I was thinking that we should go away - leave here - but then I couldn't picture you away from the house. As though you only exist there now, and it really freaked me out, Spike. I couldn't remember what you were like before. Only now. Does that make sense?'
'I haven't changed.'
'Yes. You have. You've stopped…. You're…. No. You've… become… what I want.'
'You want me to be what you don't want?'
'No! I want you to be what you want!'
Spike leant back against the wall and lit a cigarette. 'I'm getting a headache.'
Angel nodded glumly then took a small breath. 'Invite Wesley over when I'm there sometime maybe?' He let the suggestion hang in the air then glanced up at Spike to see how it had been received.
Spike was pouting, looking at the red tip of his cigarette as if it sparked other thoughts in his mind. 'I'm not sure Wes is even speaking to me now.'
'Wesley is remarkably forgiving, Spike. He's the most adult person I know.'
Spike allowed their eyes to meet, and he said softly, 'I thought you were angered by our friendship.'
'My anger isn't the point! That's what I'm trying to say.'
'Okay, Luv.' He pushed off the wall and patted Angel's arm then grinned up at him mischievously. 'All my problems stem from needing to see Wesley more. That's cool.'
Angel growled softly, more through amused intimacy than menace, but before Spike could reply there was a louder growl from the other side of the crates. They glanced at each other, adrenalin of a different kind now coursing through their bodies, and stepped out, side by side.
Two vampires were facing off over the semi-conscious body of a young man. They looked over to Spike and Angel, and a moment of indecision settled over them all until Spike shrugged and said, 'Fuck this,' wading in and dusting them both, brushing his hands together in disgust as if he'd been dusting furniture.
He glanced over at Angel who was lounging against the crates, watching him. 'Cheers, Mate. Thanks for the help.'
Angel pushed off and came closer, ignoring the sarcasm. He knelt to the shocked boy then glanced up at Spike. 'You didn't need any help.'
Spike sucked in his breath slightly at the intensely loving, proud look Angel gave him. He turned away to hide his reaction and heard Angel say softly, 'You okay? It's over.'
When he turned back, Angel had the boy supported and they were both waiting for him. He took the boy's other arm and Angel nodded toward the main street. 'We'll leave him where there are more people. He'll be okay.'
'They'll probably think he's stoned.'
'I think that's what he thought he was going to be.'
'Yeah. A trip of another kind.'
'You were… impressive. You were the person I couldn't remember last night.'
'Okay, Sigmund, let's leave him here.'
Suddenly, the boy struggled back to some semblance of consciousness and pushed at them. 'Fuck off! Fucking perverts!'
Spike chuckled; Angel winced and glanced furtively around, which made Spike laugh more.
They walked swiftly away from the cursing, accusing boy, and when it grew quieter, Spike glanced over at Angel with a look his sire knew only too well and murmured, 'Wanna go home and pervert me?'
Angel repressed his smile, adjusted his clothing slightly and strode off in the direction of the house. Spike strolled along a few paces behind, watching Angel's arse and occasionally commenting on it, much to his sire's increasing ire.
to Chapter 3
Home | Balancing Act Index | Sequel Index