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The Darkling Plain
The party got louder.
Spike smoked heavily, thinking.
Eventually, he picked the puppy up and stared into its blue eyes. Climbing back through the window, he tucked the dog into the peace and quiet under his covers and went back out to watch Angel. He'd been doing it all night without admitting it to himself - might as well just do it and enjoy it.
He looked around the assembled guests: his Sunnydale life and his LA life - all here.
Sam had Xander pinned with his back to the wall and seemed deep in conversation with him, the boy's eyes wide. Amused, he watched Giles writing down something Lilah was telling him. Buffy was dancing with someone he didn't recognise, but when he couldn't see Jordan anywhere, he chuckled and nodded the football jock over. He leant closer and whispered, 'She likes them big and thick - oh, and that goes for the rest of the guy too, I guess. Good choice.' Jordan put a hand lightly on Spike's back.
'You're….' He didn't push his luck by naming Spike's recovery but leant in closer and said, 'I'm going for the new watcher next. He's… adorable. Any tips?'
Spike pursed his lips and looked at Giles again. 'Try blond and irritating, and vomit on him a lot.'
Jordan took a large drink, flexed his superb athletes' body and went back to the hunt.
He looked toward the couch. Angel was standing by it, deep in thought, listening to Wesley. He wished the music wasn't so loud so he could make out what they were talking about. Although Angel seemed engrossed by the conversation, surreptitiously, he was watching him. Across the gap that separated them, they held each other's gaze, and Spike saw for the first time that this was how it had always been; nothing had changed. It didn't matter what else Angel was doing or thinking, foremost in his thoughts would be his childe, his lover, and his best friend.
Spike turned around on the stool where he was perched, poured three drinks and carried them over carefully. Wordlessly, he handed one to Wesley and one to Angel. Without waiting to hear the reaction to this, he wandered over and sat by Giles on the couch.
'My God, Lilah's a fascinating study. Do you think she'd be willing…? Oh, hello. You look… better.'
Spike sipped his drink, not willing to define this improvement.
Giles sighed deeply. 'I should imagine all of this was something of a shock.' He gazed wistfully around the beautiful apartment. 'Did Angel ever actually see your crypt? Perhaps he'd have appreciated the contrast more. Rather hard to just be given all this, I should think.'
Spike gave him a small glance out of narrowed eyes.
'Hmm. Much better to make a conscious choice and take it because you want it - with your own free will.'
Spike tipped his head back on the couch. 'You watchers are all full of cryptic shit.'
Giles laughed and patted his thigh. 'Now, I'm going over to speak to that attractive young woman who's just arrived. Why don't you go and rescue Harris from your… colourful new friend?'
Spike glanced between Sam and Jordan in another new look and refrained from pointing out to the watcher that he was probably in more danger than the boy.
Xander was the last to leave. Anya had to drag him out, babbling about going to a place called Babel. Angel let the doors slide closed and leant his forehead on them. 'Oh, thank God.'
He turned around and groaned. 'And people actually do this for pleasure?' He surveyed the detritus of the party spoiling his apartment, pouting. Spike got up and picked up the glasses nearest to him.
Surprised, Angel watched him clearing up for a while and then began to help. They moved silently around, making it pure and fresh again, but the silence was not, for once, uncomfortable.
When he was done, Spike picked up his coat and walked slowly toward the elevator.
'Stay here - in your room. It's very late.'
Spike kept his back to Angel and thought about his new, depressing apartment. He pouted then nodded. 'Okay.'
Turning, not catching Angel's eye, he murmured. 'Goodnight.'
Angel pouted and sighed. 'I'm glad you came. Goodnight.' He turned his back and went toward his own bed, then heard a sound behind him. He swung around with a look on his face that made Spike take a step back.
'The dog. Sorry.' Spike handed the sleeping puppy over and went swiftly back to his own room, shutting the door softly behind him.
He opened the window and lay with the fresh, cool air blowing over him. He smoked quietly, listening to the sound of Angel showering.
He could feel the water caressing his own body, feel the smoothness of Angel's skin, smell it fresh from washing.
His body betrayed him. He could pretend to be dead, force in the hollowness that had kept him sane, but his body responded of its own accord to Angel's siren call. He felt his skin tingle all over and a surge of desire rush into his balls.
He could have it all back if he wanted - if he had the courage to take it.
The soft noises stopped. He fancied he could hear Angel lying still and smiled to himself at this odd thought.
He wondered if Angel was thinking about him and smiled even more as he worked the answer to that one out on his own. He had seen the look Angel gave him when he had mistaken the returning of the puppy for his return.
He lit another cigarette and turned on his belly, watching the soft lights of the city.
He could have that look now if he wanted - if he had the courage to take it.
He heard an odd noise and looked down to see the puppy scratching at the floor and sniffing suspiciously at his discarded shirt.
'You pee on that, and I'll eat you.' The puppy seemed to narrow his eyes and rethink his plan.
'Come on, Mutt.' Spike swept the dog up and, dressed only in his jeans, took him back to Angel.
Angel was deeply asleep, curled around a pillow, his long, lean body stretched out naked and beautiful in the moonlight.
Spike hung his head and sighed.
Even the moon seemed to have joined the conspiracy.
He wondered if he had ever seen anything so beautiful.
Holding the wriggling puppy under one arm, he went down the elevator and through the deserted offices to the garage, then slipped out through the door to deposit the dog in the street.
The puppy looked up at him with fearful eyes. Spike pouted. 'Yeah, like I'm gonna abandon you. Just get on and… do stuff.'
Watching the dog stumble uncertainly toward the gutter, Spike bent to light a cigarette. He felt the air suddenly cool on his bare skin and looked up to find fine rain drizzling over his face. It felt very good, and he folded his arms behind his head and let the increasing downpour wash over him.
'I thought you'd left me again.'
Spike turned to find Angel, arms folded defensively over his naked chest, dressed in sweatpants and looking at him with the same fearful expression he'd just seen in another pair of eyes.
Confused at the self-hatred he felt at causing so much pain to Angel, Spike swept up his small, temporary charge and ducked back under the door.
Angel watched miserably and then trailed after him.
They entered the elevator silently, Spike putting the dog down so he could relight his soggy cigarette.
Later, he could not remember how the kiss began.
He remembered watching slow droplets of water run off Angel's naked chest. He remembered thinking how beautiful that skin looked and how much he wanted it to be his again.
He remembered that he lifted his eyes to find Angel watching him, and then he remembered taking a step forward. Whether that step had been real, or just in his mind, he could not remember.
He made a choice, however, and took what he wanted.
That, he did remember.
He knew it was the most intense kiss they had ever shared. Angel felt it too; Spike felt the body vibrating as they ran hands over wet, naked skin, pushed them down to the illusion of warmth, pulled each other closer with them, and made that small elevator their world.
When the doors slid open, the rain on the roof turned the apartment into an illusion of a moving, undersea world. They moved out, entwined, and their skin reflected the blue-black shadows.
He'd never been hollow. He'd been as he always was, but all that incredible life force - all his spark - had been repressed. Now he let it free, and he was flooded with sensation.
Slowly, as if they actually swam in that dark light, Spike took Angel's hand and led him to the bed. He pressed Angel back until he fell then crawled up until their mouths met once more.
Angel wrapped his legs tightly around Spike's back and his hands around the slim neck, as if by this he could hold onto him forever. They rolled, and Spike allowed Angel to possess him with kisses, to feed off his presence, to become secure again in his ownership.
Then he stopped them as they rolled and stayed on top. He sat up and began to peel Angel's sweatpants lower.
When they were both naked, Spike renegotiated the relationship between them. Holding Angel's gaze, he took him, forcefully, skilfully, lovingly, as the natural top should do, and he made Angel writhe and beg and moan, as the bottom should do. Angel's apartment, Angel's life, Angel's agency, and Angel's overwhelming presence: he acknowledged all this, but here, in their bed, he dominated. He made the conscious decision to return and take it all.
Angel was not as invulnerable as he appeared to be; when the chips were down, he had been too afraid to step into the light.
Spike, though, had faced his worst fear, and there was nothing left in this world to scare him but losing Angel again.
This was his power, and with it, he felt the balance of their relationship shift.
He refused to allow Angel to regain the initiative. He pinned him down and introduced his cock to the waiting hole. He held Angel's thighs and pressed them apart, emphasising his power to take what he wanted.
He took Angel slowly but with an irresistible force that made the dark vampire cry out in supplication. He thrashed his head on the sheets as his body was entered, soft internal passages being stretched and filled, but he was held still, an implacable hand on his jaw, making him watch.
Spike watched too. He joined them once more, his shaft disappearing slowly, swelling, the throbbing only emphasised and made more unearthly by the patterns of light and shadow that played over them.
When they were totally joined, he stilled and looked up into the dark eyes. When he had studied their depths enough, he gave one small nod and saw it returned. They both understood the significance of this fusion and knew that nothing more was needed: no expressions of guilt, no forgiveness. They were together emotionally as surely as they were physically, and nothing else mattered.
Everything else could be sorted, if they had this.
Spike began to move, and they shared the pleasure between them. Angel arched back, his entire body strung out and taut for Spike to take. Every thrust made his sleek muscles quiver, every pull back made him moan; Spike played him like his own personal instrument, and he revelled in the music they made together.
Toward the end, he lost his objectivity. Taking, giving: it didn't mean a thing. He heard panting and knew it was his. He felt his sweat falling onto Angel's belly like tears. His low moan became an erotic undercurrent to the drumming rain on the glass, and they were just bodies and sensations of pleasure as he rode Angel to shared orgasms.
A high-pitched cry broke the subtle, intimate enclosure. Angel dug his fingers into Spike's back and cried out again and then spilled the first of many shots of cum between their friction-hot skins.
Spike felt Angel's orgasm as if it were his own - and then he had his. It made him rock back; it made him shout out with its intensity, clawing wildly at Angel's knees, trying to find purchase, trying to keep his sanity as the repressed need was finally admitted.
When he was done, when there was so much cum leaking out, wetting him, catching the icy shafts of moonlight and glinting as if alive on his pale skin, he sat back on his heels, unable to move again.
Strong, welcoming arms pulled him down, and they melted together into the dark safety of the bed. With his penis still twitching and leaking clear, sticky fluid, Spike took a final, decisive step. He gave Angel all his trust and allowed himself to fall into a deep, peaceful sleep.
They woke to a new day and a new life.
Side by side, faces only inches apart, they opened their eyes at the same time and regarded the other.
Spike blinked and smiled. 'I don't remember five bloody minutes without you appearing.'
'Really? I didn't think I'd managed it that well.' Angel looked down, clearly very pleased with himself, and then pulled Spike on top of him. 'Take me again.'
This time, there was very little reverence or sense of profound issues. Biting, teasing, laughing, and fighting for dominance, they rediscovered the fun. Their bed became a tangled playground of need.
Spike pinned Angel down once more, well aware he was being tolerated and that Angel could break free if he wanted. He eased himself down until he lay entirely on Angel and nuzzled into his neck, breathing deeply. The skin smelt exquisite: sweat, sex, and the newer, subtler overlay of the sun. He licked slowly around in the hollow of Angel's collarbone then trailed his tongue down, across Angel's pecs to his nipples. They were prominent and hard, small dark enticements on the broad, smooth paleness. Spike sucked one into his mouth, mouthing it as if feeding. Angel arched with pleasure and moaned, pressing Spike's head down harder, urging him on.
When he'd bitten and prepared that nipple, Spike moved over to the other one, still playing with the first with his fingers: twisting it and peeking it.
With a sly grin up at Angel, Spike slid lower, tracing his tongue down the centre of Angel's belly to the small indentation from his human lineage. He twirled his tongue around the edge, teasing Angel, then plunged it in, as if thrusting into a far more enticing hole with a far more interesting organ. Angel laughed and groaned, 'Lower, Bastard. Lower.'
Spike grinned but continued playing, trailing cool circles around the belly button. Gradually, however, the circles got wider, like a stone falling in slow motion to water. Gradually, his tongue licked across soft hair; gradually, it met an engorged erection, releasing another cool fluid to glisten on Angel's skin.
Angel began to beg, urging Spike's mouth toward him, but Spike dodged and gently parted the strong thighs. When he realised where Spike was heading, Angel sighed with pleasure and began to work his own cock gently.
The hole was dark, tight, the skin gently puckered, showing no sign of its recent abuse.
Spike grinned quietly to himself and tested it with his tongue. Angel lifted his legs higher to accommodate the investigation.
They lost themselves to the individual sensations: Angel, slowly pulling on his weeping cock, just to keep it tight and ready; Spike, mouthing Angel and biting around the soft skin, sliding his tongue into the seductive channel.
Spike rocked himself on the mattress as he tongued Angel, his shaft swollen, needing to enter something to justify its male function, thrusting and penetrating.
He reluctantly pulled his mouth away from Angel's wet hole and knelt up. Angel pouted, but it was just a ploy to suppress a smile: he knew what was coming. He held Spike's gaze and said slyly, 'Good party.'
Spike gave him a speculative look. 'Partying and poofy new clothes - you're a sad case.'
Angel looked pleased. 'So, you did notice. I kinda wondered.'
'Yeah. I noticed. First time. At Lilah's. You looked… good.'
'I wish you'd said something.'
Spike gave a rueful huff and took him in one hard, swift movement. When Angel was totally impaled on him, Spike held the strong jaw tight and said slowly, 'I'm saying it now.' Suddenly, he flashed Angel a cheeky grin and slid his hands over the smooth chest. ''Sides, you look better like this.'
They came together for a kiss, tongues caressing, eyes wide, watching the other. Spike hardened and swelled inside Angel's channel, and they both groaned softly. Angel buried his face into Spike's shoulder.
'I'm so sorry.'
Spike clamped him in hard, preventing him speaking more. 'No regrets, no apologies. Just us.'
He felt Angel nod, released him, and they returned to the kiss, until it became too difficult to stay together, until their bodies rocked hard in unison, until urgent thrusting pounded Angel into the mattress, his cries of pleasure filling the silent space.
Spike came first: a delicious release that made his toes tingle, that made him crease his face with the effort of filling Angel. When he was done, when Angel's body had satisfied him, he pulled out and fell onto Angel's weeping erection, filling his mouth with the wet hardness. His own body trembling from orgasm, every nerve and emotion raw, he sucked Angel to a swift, plentiful release, swallowing the shots of cum as they were propelled into his mouth.
As if reanimating, his belly gave a huge rumble. He grinned around the softening shaft and tried to ignore it. Once more, like thunder, the rumble filled the room. Angel dragged him off and murmured huskily, 'Is that the only thing you've eaten since…?'
Spike pouted and nodded.
Grinning, Angel climbed off the bed and skittered to the fridge. He brought out the remains of the party food and heaped it on the bed, pushing Spike back and straddling him.
He flicked up an eyebrow and began to tease Spike with the food, waving it over his mouth, just too far away to reach.
When he'd made Spike beg prettily enough, he twisted around with a smile of satisfaction and fetched something, laying it on Spike's chest. Spike gasped at the cold and looked down at the tub of ice cream, narrowing his eyes.
Keeping his gaze, Angel dug his fingers into the icy contents and licked them for a while, laughing at Spike's look of outrage. He dug them in again, waved the ice cream near Spike's mouth but suddenly smeared it over one nipple. Spike arched, laughing, so Angel did it again, to his other nipple.
The rich, chocolate ice cream melted and dribbled down Spike's pale chest like streaks of dark blood. Pleased with the effect, Angel scooped out some more and, like a painter, daubed it over Spike.
Spike's belly gave another huge rumble, and he pouted then opened his mouth and pointed to it. 'How's about some inside instead, Mate?'
Angel looked contrite, took another large scoop, put it carefully to Spike's lips, then suddenly twisted around and rubbed it over Spike's soft cock.
Spike reared up and threw Angel off. Angel grabbed him and took the chocolaty softness in his mouth, sucking the ice cream off, hardening the column, tasting new flavours overlaying the sweet cream.
He groaned, pushed Spike back and lay between his legs. Keeping Spike's gaze, he took a mouthful of ice cream and then swallowed Spike's cock, swirling the leaking, bulbous tip around in the melting sweetness, probing into the slit, mixing the tastes and swallowing in greedy gulps.
Spike stretched his arms up above his head and grasped one wrist, pinning himself down, forcing himself not to react to the exquisite torture. He thought he'd succeeded until Angel moved lower, and the next mouthful of ice cream was eased where he'd begged: inside.
Spike chuckled at Angel's interpretation of his plea, but arched slightly to increase the enjoyment of Angel eating from him.
Angel's tongue was cold and felt hard; the ice cream icy until it melted and swirled around. Repeatedly, Angel thrust his tongue high into Spike, his fingers trailing up and down the soft perineum.
When the ice cream was gone, he scrabbled around and found a sauce bottle, pouring syrup over Spike's groin, filling his belly button until every thrust with his tongue made the fluid in the small pool ripple in the soft light.
He took hold of Spike's cock and pinched the foreskin up. Spike rose up with a gasp. 'I'm gonna cum.'
Angel shook his head and clamped his fist around the root. He sat back on his heels, his face a mask of chocolate, his eyes a soft amber behind the darkness. Keeping the pressure up with one hand, he very deliberately filled Spike's foreskin with sauce then with a growl, mouth wide, fell on it until the syrup hit his throat and ran down, eased on copious salty fluid.
When Angel lips reached the base of Spike's cock, he released his tight hold and nodded slightly, giving Spike permission to come.
Spike arched off the bed as Angel withdrew to his syrup filled tip, sucking hard, and then plunged down once more, his throat working the swollen head.
The orgasm began in the base of his spine and spread like fire through his body. His nipples tingled and peaked, his hair pricked his scalp, his fingers tingled with life, and then a huge surge of pleasure left his balls and shot down his shaft, his urethra swelling, straining at the pressure.
The cold jetting hit Angel's throat, diluting the sticky, sweet syrup, and he swallowed repeatedly, drawing the cock up, dragging the foreskin tight, stretching the root, and making the veins throb under the taut, thin skin.
When Spike was dry, Angel crawled up his supine childe, opened his mouth against the soft lips and gave him a cocktail of flavours that made them grin against each other, lick to the deep recesses of their mouths, explore with their tongues, and rub their bodies together, grinding the flavours into their skin.
Still chuckling, Angel put his face against Spike's neck, sighed and relaxed against him. Now that the irresistible passion was over for a few minutes, traitorous thoughts about mess in the sheets crept in, but he repressed them, found something he didn't recognise in a tub and fed it to Spike off his fingers.
'Yeah. Cheers, Mate. 'Bout time.'
Angel found some slightly crushed crackers and pushed them in to shut him up.
When Spike had eaten everything that loosely resembled food, they wrapped around each other and lay in the gradually lightening room, watching this with a fascination they thought they'd never lose.
Spike chuckled at Angel's face and, with a small grin, began to lick him clean. Like a cat, Angel arched to the rasping tongue, and he slid a hand down to his groin to play with an unsatisfied erection. He didn't want to cum just yet; he enjoyed soft intimacy with a promise of release whenever he needed it.
As he licked around Angel's ear, Spike murmured softly, 'So, what were you talking about with the Slayer?'
Angel hesitated. 'My tan.'
Spike tensed slightly and lay back down. 'Don't tell me then.'
Angel frowned and pulled him over onto his back. 'No. We were. She said I had a tan, and I asked her about… I mean… you've got to look after your skin, ya know?'
'You asked her about lotion?'
Angel flung back crossly. 'I have issues, okay?'
Spike shook his head fondly and then stretched, wincing at the various things that crackled under him.
After a few minutes of watching the soft dawn, Angel said softly, 'We are going to have to talk: Sam, Jordan…'
'What you did.'
After a slight pause, Angel said sneakily, 'My list's longer than yours.'
Spike gave him a look. 'We both know that's the only thing of yours that is then. Look, why don't you just tell me you're so glad to have me back that I can do what I like?'
Angel turned his head and looked at him. 'That's not going to happen.' Seeing Spike's expression, he added quickly, 'It's not the fucking, Spike. I don't care about that - it's vampire shit and you need it - it's the other I won't tolerate. You go to them when I'm mad at you. You want their company. You… tell them things.'
Spike turned his head, too, so they faced each other, inches apart. With a frown of wonder, he said, 'I don't care what you talk about to….' He gritted his teeth as if unable to say the name, but forced out, 'Wesley. It'll all be: research, books, boring, blah. But if you fuck him, you'll kill me.'
They turned their heads back up to watch the sunlight playing with the droplets of rain on the roof, pondering their situation.
Eventually, Angel said softly, 'I've raised expectations that I can't fulfil then.'
Spike nodded. 'Me too. They want more from me than an anonymous fuck.'
'What do you want?'
Spike sighed. 'Honestly? I didn't find giving them more took from you; but if you think it does, then that bothers me.'
Angel put his hand thoughtlessly on Spike's belly and trailed his fingers around. Spike stretched out an arm, and Angel came into his embrace gratefully. 'I have to tell you something. About going up to the sun…. I don't think I could have….'
'I know. You were delirious when you got poisoned. You told me.'
Angel sat up and ran a hand through his hair. Syrup and ice cream made it stand up in stiff peaks, and he rolled his eyes, groaning. Spike put an arm up and pulled him back into a tight embrace. 'I know, Pet, and it's why I'm here. Well, that and the fact that for the first time in my life or unlife, someone wanted me enough to chase me for once. Jesus, what a mess we've made of everything.'
Angel chuckled. 'Like the bed.'
'That'll come out in the wash. I'm not sure….'
'I think we should take a holiday.'
Spike tugged the sticky strands of Angel's hair until he lifted his head so he could see his expression. 'Holiday?'
Angel shrugged. 'Why not? I feel… in need of putting things off… getting some perspective.' He glanced down then said lowly, 'I want you all to myself until the shit hits us again.'
Spike breathed out softly. 'Where?'
'Anywhere you want. Where do you want?'
'Jesus. I don't know, put like that. Home?'
'Sunny…. Oh, England.'
'Too old. Somewhere new.'
'You've been everywhere.'
'Nah. Been there, done that, didn't like the postcard.'
Spike looked around, stretched and grinned. 'Here.'
'Why not? It's a playground for the likes of us, Angel.'
Angel gritted his teeth. 'I am NOT gay.'
'Vampires! For vampires, Wanker. We could play all night and then come back here and… play all day!'
'In the sun….' Angel rolled onto his belly, peeling a few things off and flicking them to the floor.
Spike rolled over too. 'Yeah, in the sun.'
Suddenly, Angel looked down, shyly. 'I bought you something when I went shopping with Cordy.'
Spike turned his head, trying to look nonchalant, as a vampire ought to at the mention of a present. 'Yeah?'
Angel reached into his nightstand, rummaged, then handed something to Spike. 'I bought a pair for me too.'
With matching grins, they rolled onto their backs, carefully placed their new shades on and stretched, naked, to the warm sun that streaked in, bathing them in syrup-thick light.
Angel sighed. 'I'll call down and tell them. One week.'
Spike stretched out his arm, and once more, Angel came to him, resting his head on Spike's chest.
They lay still and quiet for the whole day, sleeping, absorbing the sun into their light-starved bodies.
When the soft darkness returned, the rain began again, and Angel woke at the soft, hypnotic sound.
He turned his head and smiled when he realised he had his shades on in the dark. He liked the effect, and left them on.
Spike was still asleep, breathing softly as was his habit. Angel relaxed onto the bed and let all the tension of the last few weeks dissipate at that small sound.
He'd done it. He'd survived the first few days; he'd focused on what he wanted, and he'd not wavered from his plan for a moment. He'd won Spike back, step by step.
It had been harder than returning his soul.
He grinned, reversed his position in the bed and put his mouth around the soft penis.
Spike woke to the sensation of being sucked and with Angel's feet in his face.
Angel nuzzled into his sticky hair, licking him clean with long, hard licks down his hardening shaft. Spike grinned. Sated from two orgasms, he knew he could enjoy this safely for a very long time.
Lazily, he stretched out his arm and heaved Angel over him.
He lifted his head and licked at the tight puckering exposed to him. It was something they'd rarely done, and the intimacy of the shared mouthing made them swell and rise once more.
Spike licked and played, pushing his finger in to stroke Angel's prostate, making him groan.
He didn't know if he'd found himself. He didn't care all that much now.
He'd found something better.
He closed his eyes behind his new shades and pictured them as if looking down through the glass: a blue-black circle of joined flesh, and in that circle, he couldn't tell where he began and Angel ended.
The End of Episode 3
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