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The Longest Distance Between Two Points - Chapter 14


Spike leant back against the headstone and lit another cigarette. He had a growing pile of butts alongside him on the ground. He’d been smoking heavily recently. He seemed to need the comfort of his nicotine. His thoughts gave him no comfort at all. They pained him and confused him. But no more. It was all to stop today.

Three months he’d been back. Not a word. Not one word from him. Not a phone call nor a letter nor a message via Cordelia who tried to speak at least once a week. Nothing.

It had been a bad three months for Spike.

He had never felt so dead.

It had started within a few days of his return. He’d been okay. He’d been sad, but he’d been coping. He’d gone to the Slayer’s for his usual wash and brush up. He’d stripped, put his clothes in for a wash and made himself a sandwich. All the same as usual. Then he’d gone up for his shower. As he’d walked into the bathroom his stomach had contracted, he fallen to the floor, vomiting painfully into the toilet. Angel was in this room. Angel was here and his tongue lapped at Spike’s hole. Angel had his hands in Spike’s hair and was washing him slowly. But worst of all, Angel was laughing at his own inability to fuck Spike and it was that sound, the sound of Angel’s laughter that sent Spike falling to his knees in horror. So he left without showering. Then he stood outside the bedroom. Why do it? Why go in there and feel the pain? Because he deserved it. He was a demon with no soul and he could not be where Angel was. So he went in and saw Angel’s face again as he brought himself off against Spike’s body. Don’t do it. Don’t pick it up. But, of course, he did, he was a demon and could not feel pain. Vanilla Musk. Tears came to Spike’s eyes, but he was an evil demon, so they could not be tears of pity and of love and tears for losing Angel.

These contradictions drove him insane. He was a demon, he was evil and Angel did not love him because of that, so he should not feel things. That day he had started, brick by brick, to build a high wall to keep his feelings behind; a dam that no emotion could breach. If he laughed with Harris, he stopped and put that behind the wall. If Dawn came to him and needed him, he put her love behind the wall. If he flirted with Buffy, he stopped and that too joined the other emotions pushing up against the barricades. He stopped coming around. He stopped showering and washing his clothes and doing human things. Desire for that, or pleasure in that...all behind the wall. He stopped smiling and laughing...behind the wall. And gradually he built his dam high enough and strong enough so that no emotion seeped out. He had become the perfect demon.

And today had been a momentous day for Spike. Three months to the day and not one word. So Spike had stood on the top of his high dam facing for the last time all the swelling emotions that he had carried in his heart for over one hundred years. Like a reservoir of chaos they churned, threatening the foundations of his wall. He had had enough. Enough pinning, enough waiting, enough loving.

He faced the waters of his past emotions. He was sick of being lonely because no one else was as good as Angel. He was sick of being sad because Angel did not love him. He was sick of being a lovesick pussy for a Sire who was weak and not worth all his effort.

As he looked down at the swirling waters of his past life, he realised that he did not love Angel any more

He was sick of him.

So slowly, he had turned around.

He had turned his back on the waters that had been ‘Spike’ and had faced out into the vast empty space in front of his dam. All he could hear were the echoes against the huge wall, echoes from empty space, and he let that emptiness consume him.

He became the hollow man.

Whatever had sustained him for the years he had existed in Sunnydale had left him. Whether it had been love or hate or lust or need, whatever it had been, it was no more.

He was the hollow man.

That was the trouble with total love. It was total, all consuming. If it went, it left such a huge vacuum behind it that nothing could fill it. He stood atop his wall looking out into this vast vacuum and felt only relief.

Finally, he was the hollow man and nothing could hurt him anymore.

He was free.

If Angel walked into this cemetery now, Spike would not be bothered. He’d done that, been there, got the postcard.

It was time to move on.

He ground out his cigarette and got up. He was late for the monthly Scooby meeting. Tough shit. He only went now to get fed and a few free beers. They didn’t want him there. Unwashed, hollow. The dead body kept walking by a demon.

He knocked, got let in by Dawn, who seemed even more affectionate than of late, since he had put her behind his dam. He accepted the offered beer from Joyce and hopped up onto his usual seat. He’d give it an hour then go. They were boring; he was boring. It was all boring.

The cat jumped up onto the sideboard next to him. Spike and Dawn had shared the cat for a while. She had fed it, cared for it and loved it: he’d teased it and tried to teach it to bite people. But he had no interest in the cat now; he had been one of the last things to go behind the wall. How could he have feelings for a cat? He was the hollow man.

Spike had reached rock bottom with the inane teenage chatter when he heard the knock on the door. They were all expecting Tara, who was late, so no one took much notice until they heard Joyce say, ‘oh, Angel. Why are you here?’

Angel’s reply was neutral and cold. Perhaps he was trying to suppress emotion. It was difficult to tell with Angel. ‘I am here because I heard that Spike left Sunnydale.’

Spike closed his eyes for a moment. Three months and not one word. Angel had finally come because he thought Spike had left and he would not have to face him. Spike felt himself again standing on that high dam. The sound of the waves tempted him. He could turn and dive in and soak himself in the emotions he had once revelled in. But he didn’t. He kept his face turned to the empty space. He was the hollow man.

His voice came out as if from the grave in which he should still be. ‘Sorry to disappoint you then, I’m still here.’

Angel heard Spike’s neutral reply and came further into the room. Spike couldn’t stop one small emotion leak through a crack in his dam.

Angel looked terrible. He looked haunted and exhausted.

‘You’re still here.’

‘Sure am.’

‘Dawn told Cordelia you had gone to England. It’s why I came.’

They all heard a distinct squeak coming from the stairs and an eavesdropper beat a hasty retreat upstairs.

‘Again, sorry to disappoint you.’

Before Angel could say he was anything but disappointed, Lestat chose that moment to muscle into the conversation in that way arrogant kittens often do.

He jumped down from Spike’s lap and started rubbing around Angel’s legs.

Angel looked down puzzled. He seemed confused.

A look of fury flickered across Spike’s face but he was the hollow man, so he put it away as fast as it appeared.

‘That’s your cat, Angel. Did you forget him?’

‘I didn’t recognise him.’

‘Three months is a long time. Things change.’

Angel now looked directly at Spike. There was a long pause. Not dropping his gaze from Spike’s neutral expression, he said, ‘so, how is he?’

Spike held his gaze without flinching. ‘He is as you see him, Angel. No more, no less.’

‘If I wasn’t seeing him then. How is he in private?’

‘Oh...in private. In private, Angel, he cried a lot and missed you. But he got bored of it and stopped and now he doesn’t care one way or the other.’

A lot of confused expressions crossed the faces of the assembled humans. Only Giles and Joyce in their greater wisdom understood that this conversation was not actually about the cat at all.

Angel looked down for a moment seeming to study a slight speck on his shoes.

‘Does he understand why I didn’t come for him? Does he know that I love him?’

Spike paused before replying. If Angel had been looking at him he would have seen that Spike’s assertion that he was the hollow man was not always consistent.

‘Angel, if you loved him you wouldn’t be here talking in sodding code to him, you’d be taking him back to LA with you and fucking him into the mattress every night.’ And with that, he jumped off his seat and stormed out of the house.

This was the third time that Buffy had seen this happen. She was almost beginning to suspect a pattern was occurring here. But not everyone was so blessed with this degree of insight. Even after Giles and Joyce had patiently explained it to them later that night, some of them still couldn’t understand why Spike had wanted Angel to sleep with his cat.

Spike heard Angel starting to come after him but heard him being delayed by questions from Giles. He ran out of sight around the corner. Angel did not know where he lived, so unless he asked, something that seemed very unlikely to Spike because that would entail a bit of effort and caring, then Angel was unlikely to find him.

He kept his face resolutely turned away from the great lake of emotions that were crashing against the dam. He kept his mind on the empty space. He was empty; he was hollow.

The sharp, painful thought came into his mind:

..."Not the flood, but the ice last time"...

and he cringed as if in pain, a hand flying up to his temple.

He would not remember.

He would not.

No ice, no moonlight, no spirits. He had spent his entire fucking life being haunted by spirits and it was time to let them go. The hollow man. You can’t haunt an empty shell.

Unfortunately for Spike the moon was bright that night and it came into his crypt in taunting, cold streaks.

He sat on the window ledge, his knees drawn up, staring out at the cold light.

He got out his lighter and tried to light a cigarette. His hand was shaking too much. The more he tried, the more he failed.

And strangely, it was the insignificant shaking of that one hand that shook the foundations of his dam and almost brought it tumbling down. He felt the shaking spread from his hand to his entire body. He realised he was sobbing, deep uncontrollable sobs. He heard the waves crashing up, threatening to break over - thoughts about Angel he’d walled up, feelings for Angel that would drown him again. His walls were crumbling. He was almost tumbling in the morass. But he shored them up. He dragged up again the thought, ‘three months and not one word’, and it steadied him and calmed him. He was still the hollow man.

Then through his sobs he heard a quiet voice.

‘What are you doing?’

Spike literally felt the earth shift beneath him. He was totally disoriented. Had this all been a dream? Had he fallen asleep on that windowsill so long ago and dreamt all this unlife and was he still there endlessly repeating that question and answer? The moonlight threatened to unhinge him.

He opened his eyes. No. This was not a dream. He was not going insane.

That was Angel, not Angelus and he was Spike, not William. He was not mad and he was not afraid of Angel.

So he answered Angel as he wished he’d answered Angelus a hundred years ago. Maybe his unlife would have been better if he had.

‘I’m sitting here without you, Angel. Without you in my heart or in my thoughts. You’ve destroyed any love I ever had for you, so just go. Bugger off, find someone else to fuck up. You can blame me, hate me, fuck, you can even stake me. I don’t care anymore. I’m sick of you.’

He didn’t know what he expected from Angel, he did not expect Angel to hit him.

Angel just walked up and punched him in the arm.

‘It doesn’t matter how many times I tell you I love you, does it Spike? You won’t let yourself believe it. And do you know what? I’ve finally worked out why that is. I’ll tell you shall I?’ He punched him again, harder. ‘You don’t want me, you’ve never wanted me...you want him. You want him to tell you that he loves you. You want him to tell you he needs you. You want him to claim you and I’ll always be second best, won't I? Second best to your precious fucking Sire.’

Spike jumped off the window ledge and faced Angel furiously. ‘You fucker, Angel. He chose me, he stalked me for months, he raped me, he turned me and then he got bored with me. Do you have any idea how that feels? He was my God and he abandoned me. So don’t you dare tell me anything about how I feel. Well, I’m done with you both. I’ve prostituted myself long enough to the Angelus cock. Fuck off and leave me alone. I don’t care.’

Angel started laughing, totally out of control. ‘Oh Spike, you don’t get it, do you? No one gets it and I let them make the mistake. It’s not him and me. It never was. I am Angelus. I just changed my name and stopped wanting to hurt things. I just cut my hair and tried to be good. That’s all. Angelus, Angel, it’s all the same. Same body, same thoughts, same memories, same desires, same needs. He’s not trapped inside me...I can’t ‘revert’. He doesn’t get out sometimes...he’s just me. It’s so simple love, always was. So, you want him? You want closure? You want to be claimed? Well, here he is. Come the fuck over here and I’ll claim you!’

Spike neatly dodged Angel’s lunge for him and slid over the tomb and tried to get out of the door. He was very, very scared. He had absolutely no idea what he had in this crypt with him but it wasn’t Angel and it wasn’t the Angelus he remembered. But he did know it was big, angry and trying to fuck him. On all three counts he decided to run like shit. Oh, he’d forgotten the fourth thing. It was fast. Faster than him. He was slammed into the step and felt his teeth puncture his tongue. Blood poured out, filling his mouth. The distinct thought crossed his mind and he felt a hand on the back of his jeans.

‘Come here Childe, come to Daddy. Daddy’s got a little present for you.’

Spike didn’t want any presents particularly, it wasn’t his Birthday and he hoped it would not be his final death day. Angel ripped at his jeans and the zipper broke enabling them to be pulled down far enough to expose his butt.

Angel let go for one second, long enough to undo his pants and Spike scrambled up and out, clutching his shredded clothing to him. He ran frantically through the cemetery trying to reach the edge of town. It was early...someone must still be about. Again he was caught, this time he was propelled into the soft earth. Spike felt a rib crack as Angel landed on top of him, but Angel hadn’t faired too well either, he’d crashed into a headstone and Spike could see a deep gash on his forehead, blood obliterating one eye.

Again, Spike skittered away and ran. He heard human voices and ran desperately in that direction. When Angelus caught him this time they crashed into a pair of teenage lovers lying on a blanket. The girl’s screams rang out in the quiet Sunnydale night. Her boyfriend pulled her up and they stumbled away from the wrestling vampires. She tried to retrieve her bag, but the boy shouted at her and she ran with him into the dark.

Angel lay on top of Spike giggling. ‘Coitus Interruptus there I think, Spike. Umm...think I’m gonna have a bit of anus interruptus now, what do you think?’

Spike found his voice somewhere from where it had lodged deep in his boots and tried to use it. ‘Angel, stop this. You’ve made your point. Now bugger off and go find someone who gives a shit.’

‘Yeah alright, I will bugger off. On you, Spike. Been wanting to bugger you off for a hundred years. So let’s get started shall we?’

The jeans came off easily now. Angel ripped them to Spike’s knees, leaving his ass feeling vulnerable in the cool air. The moonlight made it a deathly white.

Angel used his hands to pry open Spike’s cheeks and Spike felt one finger being rammed in.

He didn’t believe it. He had thought this was some sort of a game and that they’d kiss and make up. But this was not good. That hurt! He howled and tried to squirm away.

‘Ohh...loving that baby, squirm some more for me,’ again the finger was rammed in.

‘Angel, please stop it, it really hurts.’

‘Angel...please stop it...it really hurts…when did you learn to whine like that, Spike? Well, I‘ve had a lot of whiners recently. Know what? I’m sick of them when they scream and wriggle as I take them.’

Spike turned his head, his gaze fixed in horror on Angel. ‘You’ve turned. It’s really you, isn’t it, Angelus?’

Angelus hit him hard over the head. ‘I’ve just told you Spike, you don’t listen. It never was him and me. It’s always been just me.’

‘But you’ve lost your soul?’

‘Sure have.’

‘How?’ Spike could not smell human blood in Angel, but his actions seemed to bear testimony to the fact that he had indeed, changed.

‘How do you think,’ and he rammed his finger in again. ‘She said to tell you, ‘hello’ and she wished you’d been there. Again.’

Spike’s throat constricted. ‘Cordelia?’

‘Yum, yum.’

‘You bastard, Angelus.’ Tears welled in Spike’s eyes. He tried one last time to throw Angelus off, but couldn’t and just lay there sobbing.

‘Oh don’t cry little one...’ Angelus’ voice slithered around Spike in mock sympathy. ‘...she went happy. Oh no, what am I saying? She went making me happy...same thing. Now, let’s see what we have here, shall we?’ Angelus started rummaging in the discarded bag.

‘What’s this?’

He held a tube of lip salve to Spike’s face, genuinely perplexed. ‘Right size, don’t you think?’

‘Don’t do this, Angelus. Please.’ But in truth, Spike did not care too much one way or the other. Angelus’ return had not only killed Cordelia, it had effectively killed Angel.

And in losing Angel, Spike’s dam just crumbled.

Better perhaps that he had not built it of such unreliable material. Each brick forged from the lie that he was over Angel. Like the ice he had once relied upon, his bricks too let him down.

All the emotion he had trapped behind the dam burst free. He was washed away by a huge tidal wave of emotion. All the emotions he had felt since seeing Darla turn to dust threatened to drown him in their powerful surge. Angel turning away from him in bed, Angel freezing when their bodies accidentally touched, Angel leaving the bed and sleeping alone, Angel not speaking to him, Angel not coming for him. It all came welling out until he was wracked by great heaving sobs. He tried brushing his tears away, but more fell to take their place. He tried to close his eyes to dam them in again, but they forced their way through, splashing onto the cold, unfeeling earth beneath him.

Spike was no longer hollow, he was flooded and filled and alive with emotion. Angel was in his dead heart, in his mind, in front of his eyes, on his tongue, all over his skin. Angel with his shy smile, Angel with his sweet reticence, Angel with his desire to do right and his total inability to see how good that truly made him, Angel with all his angst and neurosis, Angel with his deeply felt passions, Angel with his untapped depths, Angel in his loneliness and fear and need for love.

Keep the faith, Childe. It’s what he’d said and Spike had not done that. Two weeks of being ignored and he’d given up on Angel and left him and this is what had happened. And who had pushed him into thinking of Cordelia in that way? Him. Who had deserted Angel? Him. Who had not kept the faith? Him.

The only time in his entire unlife when Angel had needed Spike, Spike had betrayed him.

So not hollow anymore.

Spike's body came back to ‘life’ with the return of all his feelings. So he felt quite acutely the tube of salve being rammed into his hole and rubbed around. He cried out at the humiliation but didn’t care about the pain. Angel was dead.

The humiliation got worse when Angelus’ cock rammed in with the force of a piston. He screamed again. And again, not from the pain, what was physical pain to him now? But he had thought his first time would be with Angel.

The pain got worse as he tore and bled. He pressed his face into the blanket and filled his mouth with the soft material. Angelus grunted and thrashed above him. Spike switched off and went back to LA and back to Angel. He thought about Angel’s hands on him in the bath. He thought about Angel’s hands on him in the bed. He pictured Angel’s mouth taking in his cock, soft sucking and gentle biting bringing him off. But most of all he thought about Angel’s kindness and his quiet sense of humour and his gentleness. Spike was still thinking all this when he felt a surge of cold cum fill him and Angelus collapsed on top of him, silent and heavy.

Spike spat out the rug and lay waiting for Angelus’ next move. He could feel the cum leaking out of his torn passage, it felt good on the battered flesh.

Eventually Angelus rolled off him and lay on his back next to him. His next question startled Spike.

‘Why did you cry? It’s what you wanted. What you’ve been wanting for a hundred years. I’m back and I’ve claimed you.’

Spike didn’t see any reason for lying now about anything, but found it hard to put into words that he thought this demon would understand.

‘Thought I wanted it.’

‘Ohhh, changed your mind, Spike? Bit late for that.’ He proved his point by putting his finger back to Spike’s hole and pushing it in. He brought it out dripping in cum and pushed it at Spike’s face. ‘Yep, a little late.’

Spike rolled over onto his back too and wrapped his duster around his torn clothing.

‘Story of my fucking life then, isn’t it? Being too late. I loved you but you fucked off and left me and just as I’ve realised I love Angel he’s...he’s...’ but he couldn’t finish. He started crying again and put his arm over his eyes in the childish habit he seemed unable to break. He waited for the taunting to begin again and was surprised when Angel stayed silent for a while. When he did speak, Angelus’ voice was low and angry.

‘You didn’t love Angel.’

‘Don’t you fucking tell me who I do and don’t love. What do you know about love?’

‘I told you I loved you and I told you to wait for me.’

‘NO! NO! Angelus you didn’t. You only told yourself. It was never really for me. If you’d really loved me you’d have taken me and cared for me like Angel did. That’s the mistake I’ve been making all these fucking years...that wasn’t love...that was just selfishness...you wanted to bind me to you even though you had no intension of taking me. And all these fucking years that’s what I thought was love, but I didn’t see it until I found An...’ he couldn’t finish.

‘Angel told you he loved you. He told you to keep the faith. And you didn’t.’

‘I know. Don’t you think I know that? He needed me and I fucked off and left him. I just couldn’t...oh fuck it, why am I telling you all this?’

‘What couldn’t you do?’

‘I couldn’t stand to see him so guilty. It was like that fucking soul of his was growing and taking him so far away from me. It was growing and putting me in its bloody shade. That frigging baby, he couldn’t forgive himself for it. But it wasn’t his fault and the more I thought that, the more I felt like the filthy demon I really am. So yeah, I lost the faith cus I’m just a demon. So welcome home Angelus, it’s nice to see you again...this is the place for the hollow men, we’re just demons you and I and neither of us deserved Angel. I’m just a bloody demon.’ His impassioned voice rent the air. ‘But I didn’t want to be...I wanted him to love me, but he couldn’t cus he knew, he knew I can’t feel pain or guilt or sorrow or love. I’m just a demon. He knew, and he hated me for it.’

He rolled over, burying his face into the blanket once more.

‘You can’t feel pain or guilt or sorrow or love?’ Angelus started laughing. ‘Oh, little one, you could write the book on those emotions.’

Spike’s voice was muffled. ‘Yeah well, it’s too bloody late now cus just as I had him, I lost him. Got you instead now and you know what? I hate you. I hated you then and I hate you now.’

Angel’s peeling laughter rang out around the cemetery.

He sat up, doubled up as if in pain he was laughing so hard.

Then he lay back down again, hiccupping occasionally.

‘How are you feeling?’


‘Feeling. How.’

‘I’m fucking peachy. How the fuck do you think I’m feeling?’

‘Coming home then?’


‘Oh Spike, always with the questions. Home. LA. Angel Investigations, big hotel, penis extension Impala, Wesley, Lestat...Cordelia.’

Spike sat up. Then he lay back down again. Then sat up again.

He looked. Looked away. Looked again.

Angelus just lay there looking up at the night sky.

‘You have more soul in you now than most of the humans I save.’


‘Do you love me? Can you keep the faith this time?’

Spike didn’t know what to say. Second chances. He felt he was being offered a second chance. Perhaps they both were.

‘Yes, Angel. I can keep the faith.’

Angel turned to look at him, stood up and offered him his hand. Spike took it and Angel pulled him shakily to his feet. They walked slowly back to Spike’s crypt. ‘Do you have anything you want to bring?’

‘The cat?’

‘He’s already in the car. Probably ripping the leather.’

‘Yeah, I made it part of his training regime.’

The lights of Sunnydale fell behind them. The atmosphere in the car was strange. Spike felt it should be strained, but somehow it wasn’t. He needed answers. Trouble was, he couldn’t find the right questions.

‘Why?’ He started with the simplest one he could think of.

Angel knew exactly what Spike was asking. ‘You needed closure, Spike. Hell, I did too. I hadn’t left him behind me any more than you. I was trying so hard not to be him – for Buffy, for Cordelia, for Wesley, for myself even – I lost sight of the fact that he is me. And you...’ he turned his head to look at Spike. ‘...you, my beautiful love...you were always dissatisfied with something in me because I wasn’t him. I sensed it when we made love...’

‘We never got to make love...we kept getting interrupted!’

‘Well, I intend to remedy that in...’ Angel consulted his watch. ‘...in one hour and forty minutes. But I sensed it nevertheless, Spike. You wanted manacles and whips didn’t you? Admit it.’

Spike only shrugged. There was an element of truth to this that he could not deny.

‘So I just gave him back to you. To me. To us. I gave him some air to breathe again to see what we would all do.’

Spike picked at his nails for a while, digesting this and then said in a rather petulant voice, ‘don’t remember me doing much but running away and crying. Oh…and being fucked, remember that.’

‘Well, love is like a razor, it cuts you and leaves your soul to bleed.’

Spike looked up with a look of total derision and amusement on his face. ‘Have you been reading Mills and Boons again, Angel?’ Caught out, Angel just laughed and when he flashed that grin at Spike they both felt the atmosphere change. It was suddenly hot in the car. Spike had come out of the shock he had been in at finding that Angel wasn’t gone.

‘Pull over.’

Angel swung the car onto a track at the side of the road and came to a halt. He reared out of his seat and flung himself on Spike, their mouths coming together in a frenzied attack. Angel’s hands were ripping at Spike’s hair trying to pull him even closer.

‘Take me, take me, take me.’ Spike just kept repeating this in a low hiss and it drove Angel insane with desire. He moved his hands down to Spike cock, but then he stilled and pulled away. His face was a picture of misery. He looked at Spike’s torn jeans and then looked up at his face.

‘I raped you. Oh God, I raped you.’ His face crumpled and he buried it deep into his hands. ‘I’m so sorry, I'm so sorry.’

Spike decided that what was good for him, must be good for Angel. So he punched him in the arm. Hard. Very, very hard. As hard as he could, given he was a vampire and could hit very hard indeed. He felt Angel’s bone bruise.

‘OW! Fuck. OW!’

Spike grabbed hold of the front of Angel’s shirt and pulled him until their faces were only inches apart.

‘Never mention this again, Angel. I will not be another flame on the bonfire of your vanity.’ He even impressed himself with that. ‘Do you love me...don’t fucking speak Angel, just nod or shake your head...do you love me?’ Angel nodded, once. ‘Good. I love you. Did you hear that? I love you. So, new beginnings. Second chances. Just us. You will never, ever mention or think about tonight ever again. Do you hear me?’ Again Angel nodded. Spike ducked his head and kissed him. ‘Promise?’ Again Angel nodded. Again Spike kissed him. ‘Promise?’ Angel nodded and smiled. So Spike kissed him again. ‘Promise?’

Angel took Spike’s face in his hands and placed his open mouth over Spike’s, pushing in his tongue, biting at his lips and murmuring, ‘promise, promise, promise.’ They kissed for a long time, both enjoying the intimacy, wanting to draw it out and let it surround them. Eventually they pulled away and sat back to recover for a moment and Angel repeated his question, ‘home?’

As they drove along together, peaceful and content with each other’s company, Angel pushed a CD into his machine. A familiar melodic sound drifted out over them.

You've been around for such a long time now
Oh maybe I could leave you but I don't know how
And why should I be lonely every night
When I can be with you
Oh yes you make it right
And I don't listen to the guys who say
That you're bad for me and I should turn you away
'Cos they don't know about us
And they've never heard of love

Spike looked at him in wonder. ‘You bought that CD?’

‘No, I stole it from your car.’

‘Huh. Like it then?’

‘I like remembering what I was doing to you when it was on.’

Angel’s comment charged the atmosphere again. They both felt it. Spike lay back in his seat a little.

‘How much longer.’

Angel looked at his watch again. ‘Fifty minutes.’

‘Oh God.’

‘I know.’

‘Speed up.’

Instead, Angel took a hand off the wheel and put it over Spike’s cock. He slipped his hands in under the torn zip and found Spike’s cock, eager and stiff. Angel groaned, but didn’t take his eyes off the road. He moved his large hand around, pushing it deeper to find Spike’s soft balls. If he felt the traces of dried cum, well he had no idea where they had come from, he had made a promise and knew this was his second chance.

‘Slide down a bit.’ Spike obeyed and eased his jeans off entirely for Angel. Now Angel took his gaze from the road ahead. He looked at the erotic sight next to him. Spike’s white cock was lying up against his black tee shirt, his slim, naked legs pushed out, his belly taut and slightly arched to push his erection up towards Angel’s hand.

‘I have to pull over.’

‘No! Fifty minutes, Angel, you promised. Keep driving. I’ll do it.’

So Spike took his cock in his fist and pulled it up as hard as he could stand it, stretching the skin, pulling his balls tight. He took them in his other hand and rolled them around, massaging them. He exposed the tip of his penis to Angel who was glancing from the road to Spike with a hypnotic movement of his head. He groaned when he saw the dark red head, flushed and gleaming wetly at him. Spike started to swirl one finger around the tiny hole then began a long slow pulling motion with his fist, each drag closing the foreskin over, each pull exposing it again to Angel’s eager gaze. Angel put a hand unconsciously to his own cock and started rubbing it under the soft material of his pants.

‘Like this, pet?’


‘What do you want me to do then?’ Spike’s voice was low and husky and Angel increased the friction on his own swollen bulge.

Spike didn’t think Angel was going to answer for a moment, but then he heard the very low, urgent reply, ‘I want you to cum and I want you to feed it to me.’

An erotic charge shot through Spike’s balls at this. His pumping became furious. He arched his hips high off the seat, his cock sticking up proud and eager. Angel watched for the telltale sign that Spike was about to come, watched for his eyes to close and his head to be thrown back and knew he was almost ready.

In a voice that was barely heard above the low hum of the engine, he whispered an accompaniment to Spike’s urgent pulling. ‘That will be in me in twenty minutes, Spike, that’ll be my tight entrance you’re pushing into, can you feel me, can you feel how tight it’ll be? Just for you, Spike, my first time, it’s all yours.’ And as he knew it would, Spike’s cock erupted with an explosion of cum. Spike brought up his other hand and cupped it over the squirting hole, catching the cold sperm, milking with his clenched fist to ensure he had it all.

With his hand dripping and running in cum he put it to Angel’s mouth and Angel lapped at the milky fluid with his powerful tongue. After a moment Spike pulled away and Angel groaned until he saw Spike put his hand up to his own mouth and rip at the flesh of one finger. Holding it so the blood dripped back down into the palm of his hand, he passed the mixed fluids back to Angel.

Angel managed one word as he sucked and licked at Spike’s hand, ‘me’, and Spike put his other hand to Angel’s bulge and felt an immediate surge of wetness soak through the soft woollen material.

When his hand was licked clean, Spike shifted in his seat and laid his head down on Angel’s wet lap. He nuzzled and licked at the sweet tasting patch and Angel stroked his hair.

‘How long now, Angel?’

‘Ten minutes.’

Ten minutes. Spike felt a frisson of excitement stir his loins again. Ten minutes left before he could complete an act started one hundred years ago.

‘How long now, Angel?’

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