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Chapter 11

Angel watched Spike from his vantage point and began to trail him as he started his slow exploration of the rooms. Spike was confused by the overwhelming presence of Angel in all the rooms, but as he went slowly along the hallway, he began to sense more recent trails, but these confused him, too: their indications of Angel's location contrary.

Rounding a bend, he suddenly jumped around and peered cautiously the way he'd come. A shadow caught the edge of his vision, but before he'd had time to see it, it was gone. A shiver of excitement ran down Spike's spine. He whispered softly, 'You bastard.' The deserted bedrooms seemed to reply, creaking and murmuring their glee.

Angel waited until Spike rounded the corner once more then continued his stalk.

It was dark inside these upper floors: windows boarded up, light bulbs long since dead or missing. He eased into one of adjoining rooms and gently sensed the air, trying to taste Spike.

Without warning, he was slammed into and propelled across the room. Something solid and fast tangled with him then… nothing. Angel flipped up and cursed a short, harsh expletive. No one. He ran back into the hallway and heard a low, maddening chuckle. He began to run. The chuckle stopped. He could taste Spike's blood: a memory in his throat. As he ran, anticipation made his body implode with need.

Spike heard the pounding footsteps coming after him and began to run- like the wind, leaping detritus of neglect in the hallways. He was hopelessly lost but kept going up, stairs dissolving under the speed of his flight, rooms and hallways a blur. Suddenly, he stopped, blending with the darkness, being… elsewhere. Angel pounded closer, just darkness, danger, and fear. Spike brought a small part of himself back: his foot. He stuck it out.

Angel flew inelegant and suddenly very substantial, landing like a scrumhalf attempting to score: sliding on his belly down the faded tiles. Spike used him like a springboard: placing a booted foot to the middle of his back and leaping over him.

The enormous dark presence that was Angel was then even closer behind him. He could feel his sire like fear on his shoulders, weighing him down. He was so close he felt the merest brush of fingers on a trouser leg as he leapt desperately one whole flight of stairs. He didn't pause, but ran on- until there was nowhere left to run, nowhere but a fire exit that he could not use for danger of putting its warning into strange effect.

He didn't have time to turn. He became better acquainted with the faded words as they stencilled themselves to his cheek. There was nothing but darkness and the pounding of magical blood, and he could hear the echoes of their heartbeats between them. Spike surrendered, as they both felt he should. Angel conquered, as they'd both known he would.

Tipping his head back, offering his neck, Spike slid his arms in supplication over the old wood, stretching them, splaying his fingers, and then he was claimed. Demanding lips touched him briefly - a kiss before dying - and then his flesh parted to Angel's desire.

Angel mirrored Spike's spread position, running his hands from sharp and prominent shoulders down hard, muscled arms to lay fingers over fingers. He shifted his stance, pushing his whole body against Spike's slimmer one, and then he began to suck, pulling in the coppery liquid, swallowing in great draughts.

Spike moaned and pressed back, then his arms fell to his side, and with a huge shudder of returning control, Angel took his mouth away from the hollowed, welcoming neck.

They stayed pressed together in the gloom for a moment longer, until Angel levered backwards and away, turning and leaning on the door next to Spike.

Spike straightened and looked him in the eye. 'That won't happen again.' Angel swallowed something that tore his heart, but before he could frame the calm, neutral lie that would hide this vulnerability, Spike grinned slyly, punching him teasingly in the ribs, adding, 'Next time, you're bloody mine!' He gave Angel a small sideward glance and huffed. 'Ponce.'

Spike turned, leant on the wall next to Angel then rummaged for a cigarette, offering one to him. Angel took it and bent his head low to have it lit from the tip of Spike's. Their mouths only inches apart, Angel lifted his eyes. Spike was watching him wryly, and Angel smiled slowly, neither feeling the need to comment on this small, familiar, intimate exchange.

They smoked contentedly for a while until Spike said, annoyed, 'I'm too fucking slow! Time was I could'a outrun you, no probs.'

'I've gotten faster.'

'Huh. I didn't think of that.'

'I think I wanted to catch you more this time than I ever have before.'

Spike chuckled. 'Hmm. Selective memory I think there, Mate.'

Angel rolled his head over and stared at Spike's profile. 'You remember it all, don't you?'

Spike frowned, staring ahead. 'Yeah, I told ya, I remember….'

'No, not our past, Childe- Billy's. You remember Billy's life, don't you?'

Spike closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed slowly. He dropped his cigarette to the floor and ground it out. 'I can't afford to. So, no, I don't.' Slowly, he walked away into the gloom, Angel watching his retreating back with a puzzled expression. Something had flared within him at the small, sad declaration. He dug deep into emotions he'd buried for so long and realised, with a stab of wonder, that this small flame was hope.

He pushed off the fire exit and jogged to catch Spike up. Very casually he put an arm over his shoulders then withdrew it before either of them needed to re-establish boundaries. 'Let's go settle you into that apartment.'

Spike flicked his gaze over, his shoulders relaxing, and he nodded, clearly grateful for the suggestion.

When they got to the apartment, the smell assailed them before they'd opened the door. They put hands to their mouths and noses, the stench pervading their senses even without breath.

Spike cursed and went into the kitchen. 'Fucking hell.'

Angel eyed the detritus of the meal Billy had attempted to cook for them both, and once more, a stab of grief surprised him with its intensity. Spike moved on into the bedroom and stood at the edge of the bed, frowning. Angel came hesitantly closer and murmured, 'I have sixty freaking rooms and more, Spike. None of them are as bad as this.'

Spike looked at him quizzically. 'Live and work together?'

Angel shrugged. 'There's room, and it's only until you're more… together.'

Spike rubbed his eyes tiredly then nodded. 'Thanks.' He went toward the closet. 'Better take what's worth takin'. I didn't bloody have much, bastards. You'd think they'd have brought me back as somethin' good: soddingly rich and famous rock God?'

'Maybe they'd heard your singing.' Angel kept up his side of the light banter, even though his thoughts spun wildly out of control: I- Spike had spoken of his clothes, his life. Spike had claimed Billy's life as his own.

Finally, Spike had all that he wanted. Angel took one bag from him, and they headed down into the sewers.

After a mile or so, Spike roused from his reverie of something to say curiously, 'Why doesn't Wesley stay at the hotel with you? It must cost a fortune renting in L.A.'

Angel hesitated then replied, 'I've never asked him to. I like my privacy.'

Spike gave him a small, pleased glance. 'It'll be like old times, hey Sire?'

Angel rolled his eyes. 'Without the frenzied blood lust…?'

'Well, yeah, there is that.'

'Without other things, too….' Angel glanced across and added innocently, 'Darla. Dru.'

Spike huffed quietly, not fooled by the innocent addition at all.

With a sense of peace he'd not felt for so long that he hardly recognised the emotion, Angel entered the hotel with Spike at his side.

With a sense of calm he'd never known as a vampire, Spike accompanied Angel up to the bedrooms.

They wandered through the hallways together, looking in prospective rooms, rejecting them for a variety or reasons- some more valid than others. Eventually, they regrouped outside Angel's, but before he went in, Spike stood on the threshold of the one next-door and stared blankly in.

Angel came to stand next to him and leant casually on the doorjamb. 'This one?'

Spike shrugged. 'Why not?'

'I didn't think you'd want to be this close to me.'

'Why? Do you snore?'

Angel glanced over. 'You know that I don't.'

Spike gave him a small look and went in. Angel followed and sat on the end of the bed, looking around the bare room. 'Let me know what you need.'

Spike sat down next to him.

'I wish I knew.'

Angel turned his head to look at him. 'It will be easier one day, Spike.'

Spike turned, too, his look open, trusting. 'Will it?'

Angel parted his lips to reply then hesitated with them held softly open, moving slightly. He flicked a glance to Spike's lips, frowning, still trying to remember what he'd been going to say. Spike looked down as if he could actually see the words that had been about to form, but the parted lips seemed to draw him in instead. He moved forward fractionally, looked up, and the expression in his eyes made Angel close the gap between them.

They kissed once- just a brush of acknowledged desire.

Separate once more, they regarded each other quizzically. Angel frowned slightly and put a finger to Spike's cheek, as if to test that he was real, and Spike saw that for the first time, Angel was not seeing the ghost of people he had once loved under those sharply delineated bones.

Angel shook himself slightly, and took his hand away, running his fingers through his hair instead. Spike chuckled. 'That shocked you then.'

Angel frowned and smiled at the same time, a look that made Spike laugh openly. Before he could say anything though, they heard a hail from below. Angel shook himself once more. 'I just kissed you.'

Spike rose leisurely. 'Yeah, but do you know the strangest thing? I just kissed you back.'


Angel flicked his eyes to the door. 'We have to go.'


'Well… yeah.'

Spike grinned. 'Okay!' He rubbed his hands together enthusiastically. 'Come on!'

Angel rose in a daze, seemed about to say something, changed his mind, tried again as they were going down the stairs, but then lost his thread in the general confusion of selecting weapons and going to the car. Then he had to listen to Wesley outlining the emergency, so only had time to try and speak once more when they were under way, by which time the presence of the two humans in the back silenced his attempt. Instead, he glanced over at Spike to find Spike watching him. They gave each other small, puzzled glances, small ironic smiles, before Angel had to look back at the traffic.

After a few moments, Giles said cheerfully to Spike, 'So, you found him then?'

Spike chuckled, staring out of his window at the passing night life. 'Nah. I think he found me at last.'

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Angel's grip on the wheel tighten. Spike rubbed his palms over his thighs unconsciously. He risked another glance at Angel and then closed his eyes, breathing in the musky memory of Angel's smell. Under his palms now it was Angel's solid thighs he felt. The taste of Angel's mouth rushed into his own, making it water, and he sucked his lower lip in, pulling Angel's lightly with it.

He felt the car stop and turned, thinking that Angel must have read his mind.

Everyone was staring at him.

He swallowed.

'Are you all right?' Giles quirked up his eyebrow. 'We're there, apparently.'

Spike nodded, totally unable to speak.

He looked across at Angel, suddenly afraid that he'd been the only one having a small epiphany, but then he smelt blood and looked, incredulously, as small drips of crimson fluid landed, one after the other, in a hypnotic rhythm on Angel's thigh.

Angel peeled his hand off the wheel and stared in wonder at the small, red crescents. 'I think I need to kill something.'

Spike murmured his agreement, and followed by the slightly bemused and apprehensive humans, they went in to rescue an office full of people held hostage by demons.

Just before they entered the building, Angel laid a hand on Spike's arm. 'Be careful.'

Instead of the biting sarcasm this had elicited once or twice in the past from his childe, Spike merely replied softly, 'You too.'

Angel nodded and led the way to the battle.

It was an easy victory. The humans were buoyed up with excitement, chatting ceaselessly until they all entered the hotel. They followed the vampires into the lobby, returning weapons, until Wesley said suddenly, 'Well, I think a delayed reaction has kicked in; I feel bushed. Anyone mind if I call it a night?'

No one did, so accompanied by Giles, he gathered a few books and left.

Spike was still by the weapons.

Angel was leaning on the counter.

They closed the gap between them before the door had closed on the humans.

All they needed was skin: the feel of it, the smell of it. Hands roamed on bodies, slid under shirts and felt skin-wrapped muscles, skin-softened bone. Angel pushed Spike back against the wall, hands under his shirt, splayed on his chest. Spike looked up and saw again that look of total wonder, and sensed that for Angel this was all new. He helped him out: opening his mouth, cupping him around the back of his neck, pulling him down to explore this newness.

Angel kissed slightly awkwardly then pulled away with an embarrassed sound. He frowned again. 'Spike?' He seemed to be trying to convince himself of something. Then he repeated the name softy, but they both knew by the change of tone he'd now been convinced. He kissed Spike again, and it was anything but awkward. His lips possessed Spike's, using all their history together to explore the novelty.

His hands began to roam once more as they kissed open mouthed, feverish. Suddenly, he stopped and glanced down, their mouths pulling apart wetly, still eager, still giving small, light kisses. He'd found Spike's cock: hard, lying like a steel rod down into the top of one trouser leg. It twitched under his hand as he thumbed the tip, and Spike came at him with a furious, needy kiss once more. Angel's hands fumbled urgently with Spike's belt and zipper then plunged down in the cloth to find the silky hardness.

Almost simultaneously, they glanced upstairs and, laughing, ran inelegantly, desperately, up the stairs, tearing at each other's clothes, ripping T-shirts off, pulling at pants and shoes, discarding them in a trail of need as they ran to the bedroom.

When they fell on the bed, they were all writhing limbs and mouths, sucking, tasting any flesh they could find, licking into musky dampness.

Finally, Spike grabbed Angel's hand and brought it sharply to his hole. He separated Angel's fingers and stabbed two into him, arching at the penetration. Angel took over, his fingers jerking into a familiar scissor, though the body they were in seemed so new to him.

Spike cried out and arched again- taut as a bow, his cock bouncing wet and heavy on his belly.

Very slowly, Angel sucked the fleshy knob into his mouth. Spike turned onto his side to give Angel a better angle, and totally naturally, Angel replaced his fingers with the head of his thick, weeping cock.

He sucked Spike's foreskin into his mouth, stretching him, then pushed home, his own pre-ejaculate making the entry easy. Angel dragged his mouth off Spike's penis and sucked on his lips instead, kissing him deeply, riding gently into him.

He took the neglected cock in his fist, just holding it, skimming his thumb over the fissured head, milking the thick release, wiping it away over the rest of the head until the whole cock glistened in his fist.

They climbed into each other's mouths, tongues pushed far in, seeking and taking something new that had always been. Angel's cock lengthened inside Spike. He felt it stiffen like a rod, his balls hardening and beginning to ache. He sped up, jerking his belly up toward Spike, ramming home, his balls big and heavy, swinging into the pale spread backside with every jerk.

When he came, he bit down on Spike's tongue and a squirt of blood shot into his mouth as his sperm shot high into Spike's rectum. Spike's body seemed to suck in the shooting cum as Angel sucked in the blood. He kept levering into Spike, milking himself deep in the slim body, and then Spike cried out beneath him, and something wet them both, slicking between their bellies, Spike's eyes rolling back in his head slightly as he enjoyed the intense relief of coming.

When it was over for both of them, Angel hung suspended over the supine form for a moment then he rolled off on his back next to him. They lay side by side for some time, neither speaking. Finally, Angel coughed and said rather unnecessarily, 'We've just fucked each other.'


He turned his head on the mattress and looked at the familiar profile. 'That's all you're going to say?'

Spike made a face as if thinking deeply. 'Yep.'

Angel turned back to stare at the ceiling. 'We've just….'

'I think we've established that.'

'I know, but….'

'Were you fucking me?'

Angel heard the quiet question, hesitated for a moment, then let his body reply for him. He rolled back on top of Spike, propping himself up on his arms. Slowly, he lowered his lips to Spike's, parting them, easing his tongue enquiringly into the other's mouth. He searched around, tasting the soft walls, running it lightly over the hard teeth, flicking back over the lips then plunging in again, clashing with Spike's tongue and entwining, licking the other's softly. As he kissed, he ground slowly up and down on Spike's groin, feeling the inexorable stiffening of his penis once more, riding on the slickness of Spike's earlier release. He continued to kiss, but brought his hand between them, grasping both shafts in one huge fist, jerking them to the intensity of the kissing.

It was so wet Angel's fist slipped up and down the shafts with ease, making soft slurp, slurp sounds as it came off the ends, dragging foreskins high. It became hot between them, the friction of Angel's belly on Spike's warming the spent cum, sending its potent aroma into the air around them. Spike's hands entwined behind Angel's head, and he lifted his legs. Angel glanced down and swore into the kiss and took the invitation, pushing up into Spike once more.

Suddenly, the kissing ended as fucking became more important. Angel knelt and pushed Spike's knees back, exposing him more. He watched avidly as his shaft slid red, wet and glistening into the pale enclosure. He shuffled forward, as close as he could get and leaned in hard, just pausing for a moment with his shaft twitching involuntarily in the stretched hole.

He closed his eyes and began to grind in slow circles, rubbing his heavy sac into the sensitive knob at the base of Spike's spine . Spike groaned, and Angel heard a fast beating sound and opened his eyes to watch Spike fisting himself urgently. Every time the slick, flushed head appeared from the pale fist, Angel ground himself against Spike. He bent his head, and Spike fed him the tip, banging it against his lips, flicking the pre-ejaculate over them. Angel flicked his tongue out and lapped at the deep slit, probing and opening it up. Then he slowly sucked the whole head in between his lips, just holding it clamped on the prominent ridge as he repositioned himself slightly to Spike's hole. Lifting Spike a little, Angel began rapid jackhammering into the hard tightness. The dimples in his buttocks indented like small, rhythmic heartbeats as he pulsed into Spike. He sucked hard at the same time: urgent short sucks as if desperately trying to get sustenance through a too-small straw. Spike howled, arched, and Angel got the fluid he'd been seeking: copious streams of cool sperm filling his mouth, replacing the fluid his body was losing to Spike. They jerked and writhed their circle of fucking, until once more, the intense pleasure passed. It left quieter pleasures though: the contentment of being pulled onto a wet, hard chest for Angel; for Spike, the satisfaction of feeling the weight of someone heavier; for them both, the delight of having hair slowly pulled and entangled, knowing they did not have to pretend any more.

Angel lay with nothing more serious on his mind than wondering how long it would take for his penis to slide out of Spike. He could feel it now, slipping inexorably as it softened, accompanied by a dribble of his cum. He sighed and folded his arms on Spike's chest. 'Am I too heavy?'

Spike chuckled. 'Yeah, but don't move.'

'Jeez. We've just fucked each other.'

'Oh, change the bloody record, why don't you!'

'Don't you find this… incredible?'

'What I find incredible is that I've left me bloody smokes on the stairs, but I can't be bothered to get them! First bloody orgasms without a fag- in the English sense of that, course.'

Angel turned his face and bit Spike's nipple in punishment, but Spike only laughed and began to run his fingers through the dark hair once more. Angel sighed and pillowed his head comfortably on the warming skin. His penis, he noted, had stopped descending. It had stiffed slightly and seemed waiting for further instructions. With a smile, Angel unfolded his arms and returned to Spike's nipple.

He sucked it softly into his mouth, drawing the whole aureole in as if feeding. He kept it sucked in strongly and pulled his head back, pulling all the tiny nerves, firing them off rapidly, feeling the responding twitch of steel beneath his belly. Spike breathed in and out slowly, as if this sensation demanded his utmost concentration. Angel switched to the other nipple and repeated his slow, loving torture. When he'd finished, both were swollen and flushed- ripe-looking. Slowly, he put his hands into Spike's armpits then slid them up his arms, pushing them high over Spike's head and imprisoning his wrists with one fist. When he was happy with his victim, he returned to one pink swelling and bit it, hard. Spike arched and caught his breath, but any hint of dislike of the pain was belied by the bubbling indication of pleasure that glistened on his shaft. Angel grinned and bit the other one until they were a matching shade of red. With a lazy blink, Angel turned his head slightly and bit very gently into Spike's armpit. He nuzzled around the soft hair, bit gently into the very hard, stretched muscles and pushed his face into the hollows. Spike twisted his head to watch, and then their mouths were only inches apart once more.

This time when they kissed, they kissed with their eyes wide open, watching their mutual pleasure in the gazes they fastened on each other. They tasted and pulled apart, sought the other's mouth again, lifting to be kissed, pulling back, teasing, biting when they'd finally captured lips or a tongue. They became bolder. Angel's hold on Spike's wrists was forgotten. Inevitably, fists sought out cocks, laughing together into the kiss when they reached for the other's, not their own, and mutually worked them as they kissed.

Angel cupped his free hand around the back of Spike's neck and fell back onto the mattress. Spike came with him, and suddenly, he was on top, straddling the broad waist.

He leant forward to continue the kissing. Angel felt his cock being manipulated, aimed, and then Spike sat on it, easing it by short pushes into his still stretched hole. With a grunt of pleasure, he sat back, impaled.

Angel bent his legs up, and Spike wrapped his arms back around them, leaning comfortably. Angel spread his hands on Spike's lean, hard thighs, rubbing them over his smooth, hairless skin, up and down: a rhythm of desire. Spike picked up the rhythm, lifting and lowering himself gently on the penetrating hardness.

After a few moments, he brought his legs round to the front, stretched them out and then rose up, forcing Angel's hardness against his prostrate. Arched, stretched out, his cock rose like a red blossoming, stiff and hard, pointing to the ceiling. Angel caught at it and enclosed it in his fist, and then they lost themselves to pleasure once more. Spike writhed on the hardness, using it shamelessly. Angel wanked him, hard- as hard as he knew would be needed to bring him off, his fist a blur of motion on the slick column.

With a catch in his breath, Spike's cock erupted, he lost his rhythm for a moment but then scrunched up as he felt Angel's body shudder with pleasure beneath him. Once more, they rode out their orgasms together, almost losing the distinction between the parts of their bodies they shared. In, out- it seemed immaterial in the flooding, wet pleasure they were giving each other.

Spike let out a long groan of completion. Angel lowered his legs, and Spike lay back awkwardly, Angel still in him, his feet pushing against Angel's ears. Reluctantly, he eased off the impalement and rolled over onto his belly with a theatrical groan of exhaustion.

Angel twisted around and lay on his belly, too, his head pillowed in the small of Spike's back.

'We've just….'

Spike smacked him quiet but left his hand twisted back and resting on the dark hair.

Angel nuzzled into it and strong willing fingers began to pull at his hair once more, stroking him idly as they lay replete.

After a few minutes, Spike said cajolingly, 'Go get my fags, Angel. Be a, Pet.'

'Fuck off.'

'You're on top. I'd only 'ave to disturb you if I went.'

'Look in the nightstand.'

Spike twisted his head around. 'Uh huh. Have I just discovered a guilty secret?'

'Yeah, that I like your ass. I smoke occasionally, too.'

Spike smiled and rummaged until he'd found what he wanted. With a sigh, he rolled onto his back, disturbing Angel, but he quickly pulled his head onto his belly instead and lit a cigarette for him, putting it into his mouth teasingly.

They smoked contentedly, Spike still combing though Angel's hair with his spare hand, as if something in this rhythmic contact soothed them both.

They both made their cigarettes last as long as they could, but eventually, they were gone. Angel pursed his lips and flicked the butt to the floor. 'What now?'

Spike dislodged him and sat up. 'Guess I'd better go.'

Angel sat up and ran his fingers through his dishevelled hair. 'Yeah. I kinda like my own space now- I'm used to it.'

Spike nodded. 'Yeah.'

He crawled off the bed. Angel hesitated for a fraction of a second, then lunged and grabbed Spike's hand. He stroked the fingers, playing with them, looking away, his arm and torso hanging off the bed. He made a small grunt, and with a smile, Spike slid back in with him.

Angel pulled him to lie on top.

They began to kiss again. These were different kisses: post-ejaculation, languid kisses; kisses that weren't intended to arouse for penetration and, therefore, not easily explained away. As if thinking this at the same time, they let their mouths still on each other, lips open, touching; tongues still together but not moving. They stared at each other from this intense closeness and then began to kiss again, these kisses full of deep affection; kissing for no other reason than the intense pleasure it gave them.

At last, with a small sigh, Angel turned onto his side and pulled Spike into a tight spoon, burying his face into the tousled strands of dirty-blond hair. They were peaceful for a minute, until with a small grunt of apology, Angel pushed Spike's top thigh away, exposing him. Spike twisted his head around, slightly incredulous, and Angel averted his face, letting his hand talk for him. He ground the heel of his palm against the open hole, pressing his fingers hard into Spike's perineum. Spike arched back into his arms, chuckling softly.

Angel grunted at the quick capitulation and pressed harder, rubbing the hardness of his hand over the flushed hole. Spike grunted in pleasure; Angel pushed three fingers in and then contracted the muscles in his hand, pulsing his fingers in the rhythm of a quick heartbeat. He slid his free arm under Spike and hugged him close, finding a sore nipple and tweaking it gently to match the intense play inside.

When he saw Spike's hand move to his cock, Angel smiled. He grunted again, indicating that he wanted to watch, and Spike seemed to understand the primitive request, for he kept his movements slow and open, keeping the red head of his cock pointing at Angel as he worked it, let him watch it bubble and fill with thick pre-ejaculate.

Angel could almost feel Spike's thumb brushing across his own swollen cockhead from the pleasure of watching. The hole wept copiously, white fluid pooling in the centre of its intense blood-red flush.

Suddenly, he withdrew his fingers and pushed in a thick erection. With his free hand, he stilled Spike and murmured, 'Slowly.' Spike nodded, letting his cock lie on the bed alongside them, stroking it with the heel of his hand, just making it twitch, keeping it hard. Angel murmured his approval, and they relaxed, Angel's hardness joining them.

Afterwards, when they woke, neither could remember just how long they'd lain there with Angel swelling and rocking inside the wet warmth of Spike's body, but gradually, sleep had claimed them- a sleep filled with the intense smell of the sex they'd spilt between them; of flesh heated by friction and cooled by spit; of mouths tasting another's saliva and need; but filled, most of all, by residual thoughts of aching hardness and sharing the intimacies of their bodies, even in sleep.

These dreams banished all others, so when they woke a few hours later - the sound of a car horn in the street waking them both - their first thoughts weren't painful or full of remembrance of things they could not change but would suffer through eternity for. They were full of the musky scent of sex and the feel of hot skin. At the same time, they realised they were still joined. Spike hissed an urgent 'yes' and spread himself on the bed, clenching his strong inner muscles. Angel rose in and over him, and drew back until the large head of his cock became visible, plunging back in. Their bodies, aching for this in sleep, reached orgasm almost immediately. Two or three smooth thrusts, Spike's hand sliding under to fist himself, and they both came messily and very noisily into the already damp sheets.

Angel lay back down on Spike's body, melting into him, and let sleep overcome him once more. In the final moments of consciousness, he whispered, 'Too heavy?'

Spike's hand crept around to hold him in place.

Angel pulled the covers high, and they knew no more, lying joined in the musky, intoxicating scent of their warm nest until the first streaks of light began to climb the stucco walls of the old hotel.

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