Counting The Ways - 2

Spike trailed after Wesley, stunned by the overturn of all his expectations of this watcher. This was a man: he gave definition to red-blooded, and that blood sang to Spike. He reeked of power and pain.

Fully aware that he was being followed, just not caring, Wesley went into a crowded, noisy bar. He squeezed onto a stool and ordered a glass and a bottle of whisky. Spike squeezed in next to him, unhappy in the mass of potentially aggressive humans.

He waited, as Wesley took what was clearly not his first drink of the night. He watched the second go down. Only on the third did he say, 'I know you're dying to ask me why I'm here.'

Wesley roused - as if he had genuinely forgotten Spike's presence. 'I'm not even registering that you are here; so that is hardly likely.'

'So, you ain't curious at all, 'bout Angel and the brat?'

'Who's Angel?'

'Uh huh. Well, what about Cordelia then? Seems I remember you were partial to that particular bit of perfect flesh.'

'You speak of old history, Spike.'

'Come on, Watcher; lighten up. Offer me a drink at least.'

The eyes Wesley turned on Spike burnt into him, but he pushed the bottle over and summoned another.

'That's better. Now we can have that little chat about Angel.'

Wesley got up and walked away. He climbed up to the balcony and leant on the rail, watching the throng. Spike followed and stood a little way behind, watching him.

A young woman eased her way up to Wesley, angling for a drink and some company. Wesley turned to her, and the words he spoke - unheard by Spike over the noise - made her back away, flushing. That's when Spike saw it for the first time. Ragged, livid - a scar for a lifetime: it throbbed its pain at Spike.

The crowd got worse and he began to be jostled. He was pushed towards Wesley and found himself squeezed against him, pressing the human into the rail. The watcher's body was incredibly tense, like a steel coil waiting to unwind, but even at this too intimate contact, he did not acknowledge Spike's presence. So Spike blew lightly on the scar. That roused him. He turned to Spike, killing fury in his eyes. He tried to push his tormentor away. Spike resisted as easily as if a child shoved him. Wesley pushed some more, his eyes widening in surprise at Spike's immovable body. In desperation to be left alone with his pain, he punched Spike in the belly - an almost tentative blow - Spike merely raised an eyebrow at him, caught at the fist and held it still. They were jostled again by the drinking crowd - Spike back into the rail, Wesley against Spike. Their bodies rubbed together; Spike heard a groan, thought it was his, realised it was human. He thrust his hips forward slightly, hard meeting hard. Wesley grasped hold of Spike's hand and, in the struggle to be free from the vampire, accidentally bent a finger back towards the wrist. Spike winced at the pain, gasped, hissed, moaned - and pushed his hips forward some more.

Wesley tried to pull away, but the lure of Spike's reaction to the pain seemed to hold him transfixed. He stared at Spike, and Spike wondered if the watcher was thinking of another vampire and another kind of pain - one he wished he had not caused, but could not now take back. Wesley took another of Spike's fingers and, as if in a trance, bent it back, too. Spike groaned his arousal once more, and at the realisation he was giving a vampire pleasure from pain, Wesley finally began to reanimate.

He groaned and pushed his groin into Spike. He dislocated another finger, rubbing into Spike's pain, trying to feel it. Abruptly he broke away and pushed out of the bar. He did not look back. Spike followed the trail of pungent male arousal. He walked a few feet behind along the quiet streets. He snapped his fingers back as he walked, flexing them and massaging them distractedly.

He didn't know why he was following the dangerous, confused human: maybe that was why - because he was dangerous. Spike had felt intimate sexual pain with this human, and that made him hot with desire.

He knew what the watcher wanted, even if this confused human didn't know it himself. Relief through pain was something of his trademark, and he was more than willing to explore it with the surprisingly dark human.

Wesley kicked open the door to his apartment and went through, leaving it wide. After a few paces, he said hoarsely, without turning around, 'In.'

Spike stepped over the threshold and shut the door behind him. The second blow to his belly was much, much harder and not at all tentative. He doubled over and fell to one knee, and Wesley's knee slammed into his face. The human was sweating and panting: his confusion and pain making him almost maniacal. His eyes were dilated, his flesh hot - his body's tension uncoiling at last to Spike's pain.

Spike was sprawled on his back, and Wesley flung himself down. He ripped at Spike's shirt; he didn't even bother with undressing his victim: as soon as a small, exposed 'v' of Spike's chest appeared, he increased his cold, purposeful actions. He took his dark, angry shaft out and worked himself over Spike, one knee on the hard chest, aiming at the face. Spike reached up to the watcher's face, but his hand was grasped and his fingers once more bent unnaturally back. As if this was the final pain the human needed, a hard bullet of cum shot into Spike's face. Spike turned, and the rest of the load erupted over his cheek and hair.

Wesley finished, grunted, put himself away, and stood up. He poured a drink, turned on the television and slumped in a chair, not watching it.

Spike wiped at the cum on his face and did up his shirt. He sat up and looked at the watcher for a while. 'Feel better?'

'Fuck off, Spike. Shut the door on your way out.'

'Mind if I clean up a bit first? I imagine Angel'll recognise the smell of your cum, and it is his shirt an' all.' He watched the watcher carefully - no response. Wesley continued to stare blankly at the flickering screen. Spike went into the bathroom and washed his face and hair as best he could. He glanced around. The place was filthy and neglected: old towels were abandoned sodden on the floor; sweat stained clothes were dropped on every surface. He wandered into the bedroom. The place smelt like places he'd tortured humans in: pain stained the air. He shivered slightly but, as he turned to leave, found Wesley blocking his way. A trickle of fear ran down his spine. That was good: he'd stayed alive for nearly two hundred eyes precisely because he did know when to feel fear. What was not so good was his total inability to do anything about that fear now. As he had no way to protect himself physically, he attempted to reason with Wesley.

'Angel misses you.'

Wesley advanced; his face was devoid of expression. Spike had seen more cheerful zombies. 'Okay, then, Angel's glad you're gone?'

Still no response.

Spike backed away, judging how much distance he had left.

The blow caught him slightly unprepared: he hadn't expected it to be so hard, or so accurately placed on his eye. He howled in exaggerated agony, and fell to his knees, holding up his arm to ward off another blow. 'Wesley! Come on, mate, talk to me, hey? They all miss you, honest they do; you should have seen the prom queen's face when I asked where you were.' Wesley twisted Spike's uplifted arm behind his back, forcing him to his feet. He continued to twist it up, and Spike knew it was about to dislocate.

'The little 'un, mate - the scraggy one with all the 'air - she was crying 'bout you.' The hold on his arm slackened slightly, and he pressed his advantage. 'Yeah, Fred, she was all shook up and wanting to talk to me 'bout you, but the fucker wouldn't let 'er, an' they all hate the brat...' He pulled away and faced Wesley. 'Look, the wanker did this to me...' he tugged his shirt out of his jeans.

Later that night, Spike wondered if the gash that was still livid on his belly had reminded Wesley of his own slashed neck, for he suddenly looked even more confused, and sat on the bed, heavily. Spike, circling his arm, sat down next to him.

'I want you to go.'

'No you don't.'

Wesley turned to him, his eyes drilling into Spike. 'Why are you here? What do you want?' Spike never got a chance to answer: Wesley grabbed him and savaged his lips with a kiss. Surprised, Spike pulled away.

'What the fuck's that for? Thought you'd had 'nough of me tonight.'

Wesley turned and pushed Spike back onto the bed, straddling him. 'I don't want you.' He unbuttoned Spike's shirt, nevertheless. When he had exposed the smooth chest, he ran his hands lightly over it, resting them over Spike's nipples as if… confused for a moment. He shook the moment off and unfastened the jeans.

Spike put a hand out to still the human. A wank over his face was one thing; he had a feeling this was going to get a lot more serious.

'I don't want this, watcher.'

'Did you speak?'

Unable to protest too much, Spike decided to await developments. He had not missed the confused pause over his flat chest and wondered how much more confusion the human's dark mood would enable him to overcome. Wesley moved down slightly so he could peel off Spike's jeans then, when the vampire was naked, he sat back on the pale thighs looking him over silently.

'Wesley...' Spike's other eye received a vicious blow. 'Fuck, watcher! Ugh…'

Spike shut up, for Wesley took his sac in one hand and began to twist.

Wesley resumed his slow appraisal of the body. He shuffled down, kneeling between Spike's legs and bent them up. He looked at Spike's puckered entrance and wrinkled his brow a little. He took his cock in one hand and began to work it to hardness. Spike slid away slightly on the bed but, again, a hand on his sac stilled him.

The twist was more vicious this time, and he cried out in genuine pain. Wesley swelled quite quickly after that cry, and he twisted again, clearly pleased. Spike realised things had now taken the serious turn he had been trying to avoid.

When Wesley began to press the tip of his penis to his cool flesh, Spike tried once more to break through the barriers. 'Wes!'

Wesley did not look at him, but he did still his movements. 'If you're gonna do that, you need something to lubricate, mate. I ain't all slippery, and no way're you gonna be able to thrust hard enough to make me bleed… so use something, hey?'

As if in a trance, Wesley reached out to his nightstand. Spike closed his eyes, grateful for small mercies, but screeched and opened them in shocked outrage when Wesley scratched a pair of nail scissors across his inner thigh.

A tiny dribble of blood speckled the watcher's fingers; he withdrew his hand, staring at it in fascination, and then wiped the blood over Spike's hole. Spike had had enough and scrambled off the bed, twisted back to grab his clothes and found himself propelled into a wall, Wesley fighting to find his mouth once more.

Wesley opened his mouth over Spike's and worked until he could push his tongue in. With his other hand, he reached around and found Spike's blood-flecked hole. 'Don't fight me, vampire; you want this as much as I need it.'

'Fuck you, watcher; I ain't got any choice in this. This is rape, you know.'

Wesley paused, tipped his head back and looked at Spike. His eyes held the tiniest spark of humanity, and Spike gritted his teeth.

'You want this. You've practically lain down and begged for it.'

'No, I've lain down and taken it, cus there's not much else I can do.'

'What do you mean?'

Spike paused and regarded the human incredulously. Wesley removed his finger from Spike's ass. He stepped back a little, animation visibly returning to his features.

'Me chip, mate!'

'Your what?'

'Wesley! I'm chipped - I mean, I have a chip in my head now; I can't hurt humans; can't even give you a bleedin' wedgie!'

'What do you… Why didn't I know this?'

'I don't bleedin' know! Why didn't you? Shit, I thought you did! Fuck... did you think I wanted to be wanked over? Did you think I wasn't fighting back cus I wanted that?'

'Fuck, Spike, yes! Why did you come back here? Why did you come in?'

'Cus I wanted you!'

'Wanted me!'

'Duh... yeah! Jesus, mate, don't you know how sexy you are? Fuck... were... 'til you used those fucking things on me!'

Wesley muttered. 'What have I done?'

Once more, Spike followed him to the bed. They sat side-by-side. Wesley bent and put his face in his hands: it seemed as if some final straw had broken him entirely. This was not good: Spike had not come here to find a broken, useless human - he needed a watcher. He put his hand to Wesley's back and began small, unfamiliar circles of comfort. Wesley began to rock himself back and forth.

'I didn't mean it.'

Spike felt the despairing human was not referring to anything that had happened between them that evening.

'Tell me?' He scrambled back a bit so he could reach the top of the covers and pulled them down to cover his nakedness. He sat crossed legged behind Wesley and waited.

After a long, long silence, Wesley said quietly from his hands, 'I thought Angel would kill the child and ... he is precious, Spike. He has been sent to save the world.'

'Fucking funny, mate. No way.' Wesley turned to him.

'I know; it hardly seems possible, but all the prophecies say so.'

'Bloody hell, wish I weren't immortal sometimes; I really don't wanna be around when that brat ascends to the right hand. Can you imagine him? "That's my right hand; don't you come on here".' Spike did a fairly accurate impression of teenage spite, and Wesley smiled despite his misery.

'Angel was going to kill him; I took him to save him.'

'But you took him to a hell dimension, Wesley - bit dumb, weren't it? Couldn't you have left him with some little ole lady somewhere?'

'No!' Wesley looked shocked. 'He was taken from me ... that's when this happened.' He put a hand to his scar briefly.

Spike looked confused. 'You took him to save him… but he was taken from you… and you were nearly killed defending him?'

Wesley looked down. 'Essentially, yes.'

'Okay… then I'm flummoxed. Why is Angel all pretend "I'll fucking kill Wesley" then? Seems to me you did a good thing.'

Wesley eyes watered, and he blinked a few times. 'Angel didn't see it that way. And he actually did try to kill me.'

'Nah, you're imagining things, pet. He might think it...'

'In the hospital, Spike… he suffocated me. Tried to. Would have... if the alarm hadn't have gone off.'

Spike was silent, and a certain conversation with Connor about mothers trickled into his mind. He looked down glumly. 'You ain't got a spare room, I suppose? Think I may have outstayed me welcome with soulboy then.'

Wesley smiled faintly. 'Seems we both have.'

Spike looked up. 'So, what's with the first time try-out of the homoerotica then, pet?'

Wesley flinched. 'How did you know?'

Spike grinned but didn't reply directly. 'What did you think?'

Wesley pursed his lips, thoughtfully. 'I didn't really have time to analyse it... if you know what I mean.'

Spike inspected him through lowered eyes. 'So… how's about we take it in slow time now, and I take you through all the highlights?'

Wesley glanced down at the scissors lying innocently on the floor and then at Spike's swelling eye in disbelief. 'After what I did?'

Spike leaned closer and ran a finger over the prominent stubble. 'Mate, I've smashed down a building as foreplay; one little scratch with a sharp instrument'll only get me all excited - know what I mean?'

He guided the stubble to him and placed his lips softly onto Wesley's, licking slightly. Wesley responded by opening his mouth. Pleased, Spike pulled away again. 'So… tell me why.'

Wesley looked down. 'Because there is no one else, and I need someone.'

'Nope, wrong answer.'

'Because... ' Wesley faltered and looked up, saw no judgement in Spike's eyes so, with a deep breath, continued, 'Because it was never enough in the past, and I need more now.'

Spike put a hand on his thigh. 'Shall I give you more?'

Wesley nodded.

'Shall I take some of the pain away?'

Another nod.

Spike paused. 'Will you take mine away?'

Wesley looked up sharply. 'Yours?'

'You're not the only one he's gotten tired of, Wesley, and he's been mine for three lifetimes.' Wesley now took Spike's face in his hand and rubbed the sharp cheekbone with his thumb.

'You're all bruised.'

'Comes with the job, luv.' Wesley nodded. He ran his hands over the livid cut on Spike's belly. 'He did this? The boy?' Spike nodded and looked down at the hand. He looked up, caught Wesley's eye, and moved the hand down under the sheet.

They both groaned simultaneously and, at this, grinned at each other, pleased. The atmosphere shifted subtly with this mutual acknowledgement of pleasure. Wesley peeled the sheet away and looked for a while at what his hand was enjoying. He stood then and peeled of his pants and his shirt. As he was about to drop the shirt to the floor, he suddenly sniffed it and grimaced. 'Good grief.'

Spike laughed, 'Yeah, didn't like to say, mate.'

'I need a shower.'

'Think I might, too, then.'

Wesley laughed at that and turned towards the bathroom, but hesitated for a moment. 'Don't watch my bottom, please; it's still too disturbing.' Spike caught him up and slapped him on it instead.

Wesley looked around his bathroom in dismay. 'Oh dear, who's been here?'

Spike kicked the worst of the mess to one side and stepped over the rim of the bath, turning on the water. 'Come on, you sad fuck. I ain't gonna clean yer clothes, but I'll clean what they go on.'

Wesley stepped under the water with him. 'This feels extremely odd.'

'Come on, mate. You went to public school: this must be old ground for you.'

'Err... everyone was a little smaller then, Spike.'

'Can't help being well hung, pet.'

Wesley laughed, looking down. 'I wasn't referring to... oh.'

'Fancy highlight number one then?'

'No, but I suspect I'm rather committed now.'

'Kneel down. That's it.' Spike put his hands to Wesley's dark hair, burying his fingers into the thickness. 'See how it's standing up for you, human? You've gotta... fuck.' His lesson was cut abruptly short when Wesley licked up from the root to the tip. 'Fucking hell, watcher, do that again! I've never had a bloke's hot tongue do that.'

Wesley, pleased with this encouragement, did it again.

Pleased with the effect of his untruthful, but necessary encouragement, Spike smiled fondly down at the kneeling man. 'Now, hold it here, see, tight around the root. There, ya got it. Just imagine it's yours, pet, and do with it what you'd like. That's the beauty of all this; that's why it's so good - it's all what we want, what we know we like.'

Wesley took Spike's sac into his mouth. 'OH! Jesus! I didn't mean... but fuck, don't stop! Spike's desperate moaning flared a response in Wesley. He swirled and rotated Spike's balls, pressing his tongue into the smooth skin to separate them, and then crushing them together with his lips. Wesley tried to recall how many times he had enjoyed this with his own hand, pleasuring himself for hours. To do this for another man though - it was incredible.

What else did he enjoy? Wesley let the sac fall from his mouth and took in the tip of Spike's penis instead. Both uncut, this penis was as familiar as his own, but now he could slip a tongue in and seek the small drops of fluid he knew would be there. Now he could use his teeth.

Spike looked down at the dark hair streaming with water. When Wesley pushed his tongue under his foreskin and swirled it over his cool knob, Spike had to brace himself on the walls. His knees started to buckle at the intense pleasure washing up from his throbbing balls. He so wanted to come, so wanted to be needed. He ached to have someone call him by his name and take his cum. He felt an orgasm building… but held Wesley's head still. The human looked up questioningly, so Spike shook his head fractionally. 'Too soon.' He pulled Wesley to his feet and smiled. 'Sorry, but it's been a long time. I'll come too soon.'

'Oh. How long?'

Spike thought. ''Few hours I'd say.'

Wesley spluttered. 'Hours!'

Spike twitched up his lips. 'How long for you, mate?'

Well other than...' he indicated in the direction of the living room, clearly too embarrassed to speak of what he had done there. 'With someone, err... a few years.'

Spike frowned. 'You are joking, right?'

Wesley leant in a little closer and tentatively tested his lips against Spike's. 'It feels like it now, anyway.'

They kissed properly for the first time. Spike wrapped both hands around the back of Wesley's head, pulling him out of the stream of hot water. He leant back against the wall, and Wesley leaned onto the cool body, melting into the intense, intimate kiss. They both closed their eyes automatically, so they could enjoy each sensation quietly and in their own heads. It was superb: Spike could taste the whiskey and the need; Wesley could cold strength and power. They continued to open their mouths wider and wider. Wesley's leg automatically came up over Spike, rubbing their erections together, as mutual orgasms began to build. He pushed in harder and dominated Spike's mouth with his tongue. He rubbed his stubble against Spike and did it again when Spike moaned. Spike's fingers tightened in Wesley's hair; Wesley meshed his into Spike's; they were get even closer now. Wesley felt his lips start to bleed from the pressure and the tearing at Spike's mouth.

When he tasted the fresh, urgent, hot, human blood; Spike came. He erupted violently against Wesley, his cum coating the human's curly hair, slicking between their hard bellies. Wave after wave of heavy, thick fluid shot against Wesley. Spike's desperation in the kiss intensified as he sucked Wesley's lip, drawing out the precious fluid, desperate to swallow some more. Wesley clashed his tongue against Spike's teeth and made that bleed, too and, as the last shots of cum drenched him, Wesley fed his soft, warm, seeping tongue down Spike's throat. He did not pull away when he felt the penis twitching against him soften, but only worked the graze more and licked his blood over the walls of Spike's mouth.

They only roused and broke from the kiss when the water ran cold and Wesley began to shiver.

Spike turned away and hung his head slightly. 'Fuck.'

Wesley put a hand to his chin and turned him. 'Was that... okay?'

Spike tipped his head back as if pondering something on the ceiling. 'You missed your calling, mate; just who was teaching who there?'

Pleased, Wesley stepped out of the bath and looked at himself in the mirror. 'I need a shave.' Spike sat on the rim of the tub, watching, as Wesley slowly and carefully scrapped away some of his pain. His lips were swelling badly now and rather gave him the look of a model who had just had collagen implants. When he was finished, he turned from one side to the other, regarding his face and his neck. 'I like the look. What do you think? Scarred but sexy?'

Spike laughed. 'I told you, you were sexy.'

Wesley turned. 'Yes, you did, didn't you? You are the first person who's ever said that to me.'

'Thousands of people've said it to me.'

Wesley huffed. 'In your dreams, Spike.'

Spike gave him a disingenuous look. 'No, seriously, pet - just before I killed 'em - I made 'em say it. 'S fun.'

Wesley gave Spike a double take and shivered slightly. 'You know how to ruin a mood, vampire.'

Spike twitched up an eyebrow and slowly and provocatively cast his eyes down Wesley's body. 'I wouldn't say yours was ruined, Wes.'

The erection bouncing against the sink rather illustrated Spike's point.

Spike eased to his feet and slid up to the freshly shaven face, licking up one side and teasing the swollen lips for a moment. 'So… watcher… have you thought through this little experiment of yours?'

Wesley kissed back. 'What do you mean, Spike?'

'Well, you got any preferences? You want to take it, or give it, or...' he twitched up one eyebrow suggestively 'try both? An' that's the option I'd recommend. From experience, like.'

Wesley laughed, shocked at the blatant laying out of his choices. 'I have absolutely no idea.'

Spike grabbed his hand and started to pull him back to the bed. 'Come on, let's play around for a bit and see what happens, hey?'

Wesley let himself be played with. Not only had he swapped female for male, he had swapped reticent and well brought up for... this... this whirlwind of sex. Spike was everywhere. He licked; he sucked; he fondled - he brought Wesley to heights of pleasure, only to crash him down again with withdrawal and absence. Not being able to find any good products in the bedroom or bathroom, Spike had resorted to olive oil and had poured it cascading over Wesley naked, wet body. It had formed droplets of oily slick on the soft human skin.

Clean and sweet-smelling, Wesley's body was irresistible to Spike. He didn't know where to start… but the nipples seemed a good place. He flicked the tiny pebbles until they rose and flushed. He squeezed them, watching Wesley's face closely for that barrier of pain he could not cross. Wesley arched his chest into Spike hands, and Spike tweaked the nipples once more before plunging his mouth onto them. Wesley had never had his nipples played with: no one had ever even considered them before. Spike's pinching fingers and willing mouth took him outside of his pain, and he had not expected this. He felt his orgasm rising… until a firm, cool hand clamped down on him, and Spike's warning look made him hold it in.

As if rewarding him, Spike moved down Wesley's belly slightly, stroking his soft chest hair and playing his fingers through it. He reached the belly button - again, something Wesley had never given much consideration to and hadn't realised was connected to the tip of his cock. The probing in the soft indentation made him swell more, and Spike's hand became an agony of anticipation. Spike wriggled his tongue in, lapping at him and making small noises of pleasure. Wesley folded his arms under his head and was beginning to relax to the sensation, when his legs were bent up, and the tongue transferred to somewhere more intimate.

All these firsts… but this was the most shocking: a tongue was inside him; a tongue was probing him. Wesley sat up abruptly, as Spike's tongue found his prostate gland. He pulled Spike's head away - dazed eyes, looking into dazed eyes. 'What...'

Spike immediately pushed his finger in, sliding on the slippery oil and found the spot once more. He let his finger reply for him. Wesley moaned and pulled Spike to him, so he could bury his face into the shoulder for privacy. He wanted to smell skin and taste skin as he was given this pleasure. Spike was finding it difficult to maintain his fist on the human's root, so let him go and let him have his orgasm. He worked his finger gently and sensuously over the tiny gland, swirling around the hot walls. He watched as Wesley's hands went to his cock and knew what the watcher was experiencing: an assisted orgasm... sensations he'd never experienced... a finger inside him... the overwhelming need to cum. He'd been there, felt that, and knew that it was good. Surprised, Spike felt the watcher pull away and stop the slow pulling on his warm shaft. Wesley's eyes were glazed over with pleasure, his voice very low. 'More, Spike, I want...' He looked directly at Spike. 'I want more inside me.'

Spike groaned and buried his face against Wesley's chest for a moment, the pleasure of being wanted overwhelming him, but he sat up with a sad expression. 'I don't know that I can, mate, me chip an' all... a finger's one thing, but... you'd stretch an'...' Wesley grasped his face with both hands, hard.

'Spike! I've known nothing but pain for weeks. That will be pleasure. I want it; how can it hurt me?'