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Chapter 7

It was incredibly quiet in the alley when the girls left. Spike didn't move for a while, but then, characteristically, rummaged for a cigarette. He was surprised when a hand snaked out for one, and he handed another to Angel silently, cupping his hands around them both and lighting them. They smoked for a while, until Spike heard a strange noise coming from Angel. He turned and realised Angel was trying not to laugh. Spike shook his head. 'What the hell did we just do?'

Angel shook his head as well and smoked for a moment. 'Like that happens to us every day….'

Spike began to laugh. 'Fighting them off, me….'

'I get laid on a regular basis….'

'Gorgeous girls gagging for it all over me….'

'Blow job for free in an alley comes with the job….'

'There'd 'ave been no repercussions….'

'Oh... fuck….'

'Sad or what…?'

'So, why?'

Spike turned to him again. 'Cus you didn't want to.'


'Yeah. I saw it in your eyes.'

'But you would have?'

'I'd have let her go on for a tad longer, yeah.' He grinned. 'Always enjoyed a blow; you know that.'

'So, why'd you stop her?'

'Cus you didn't want it.'

'For me, yes, but why you'd stop it for you?'

'Cus you didn't want it.'

Angel turned his head to Spike's, and like this, they were only inches apart. 'I didn't want them to sit down.'

'No. Neither did I.'

'I wanted you to answer my question.'

'I know you did. I'm not sure I know the answer… but this? I stopped cus you didn't want it.'

Angel put a hand slowly to Spike's face and wiped gently on a sharp cheekbone. 'She's marked you. Only lip gloss.'

Turning to clean Spike's face brought them closer still. Angel stood mere inches from Spike, and Spike lifted his face slightly to Angel's thumb as it brushed over where the girl had kissed him. Angel licked his thumb and rubbed slightly harder. 'I don't want her mark on you.'

It was nothing more than a whisper. 'Put your own there then, Angel. Please.'

The arousal that Angel had felt this whole time like a quiet, distant ringing in his body suddenly connected with his brain, and a rush of desire flooded his balls making them jerk to tightness. He gasped, and his eyes dilated. Spike's eyes flew wide open, and he brought up his knee slightly as if his body was reacting to Angel's arousal. He connected with hard balls, and that touch finished off Angel's restraint. He bent to Spike's face and licked where he'd been rubbing. His own trail glistened wetly in the dull light; it looked good, so he did it again. Spike moaned and increased the pressure on Angel's bulge, and then slipped his hands around the hard waist.

Spike didn't know if he raised his mouth or whether Angel bent to find it - the result was the same. They met in a kiss that had as much confusion in it as passion, as much hesitancy as desire. Angel's hands meshed into Spike's hair and created havoc with the blond strands. Spike began to dig his fingers into Angel's back. Suddenly, tongue found tongue. Spike breathed a soft expletive into Angel's mouth at the sensation, and Angel breathed back: sensuous, rare breath mingling with Spike's and warming their kiss.

A hand left Spike's hair, and he felt fumbling at his jeans. He pulled his hands off Angel's waist and helped him urgently, driven to feel those hands on him at last. Angel slid his hands into Spike's open waistband and with flat palms, rubbed them over the short, wiry curls. 'God, Spike....' Angel pulled away and looked down. Then he looked up at Spike. 'Give me….'

'No!' Spike jerked back and hit his head on the wall. He wrenched Angel's hands out of his jeans. 'Wake up! I need to wake up!'

'Spike! Fucking hell! Spike! You aren't asleep!'

'I am! You just said give me your bat, Slugger!'

'What? I did not! Jesus Christ, Spike, no wonder you can't get freaking laid!'

Angel, utterly embarrassed, aroused to the point of being almost unable to walk, mustered what dignity he could and turned away. He got a few paces, when he heard a soft, plaintive, 'Don't.'

He stopped with his back to Spike.

'Don't go.'

Angel put a hand to his forehead. 'We're both drunk, Spike, and those….' He waved his hand into the night, indicating where they'd last seen the girls. 'They got us all… wrong. This was wrong, and I'm sorry.' He softened his words by holding a hand out behind him. He felt Spike's body loosely press against it and nodded. 'I'm sorry. This is the last thing you needed.'

'Or the first.'

'You've come here to fight the demons inside you, Spike, not to be confused by me.'

'Thought I came 'ere for a little 'oliday.'

Angel turned and smiled, grateful for Spike's small attempt at humour. 'Maybe we just had a holiday fling.'

Spike twitched his lips. 'Come on, Tracy, I'll walk you back to ya villa.'

Angel bristled and shook his shoulders slightly. 'I'm hoping I'll be too hung over to remember this in the morning.'

'Don't worry, I'll be able to remember it for both of us.'

They began to walk back slowly, Angel deep in thought, not realising that Spike still had his shoulder brushing lightly against him. 'Did you really think you were dreaming again, Spike. Is that what it's like?'

'Exactly. Then I look down and… bingo, I'm a bloody bird.'

'Fuck. What sort of spell did you use?'

'I don't remember exactly.'

'How many times have I told you not to meddle with magic, Spike? There are always consequences, repercussions.'

'What are you saying?'

'There must be a residual force around you. You need completion, to clear the spell's energy - then you'll stop dreaming.'

'Hmm.' Spike had a vision of a huge bonfire and thought that would do it more successfully.

'I wish you'd let me talk to Wesley about this when we get back.'

'I wish you'd finish what you started when we get back.'

Angel stopped. 'You don't mean that. We're drunk and….'

'You know what that was Angel as well as I do. You don't kiss like that by mistake.'

'I….' Angel didn't finish this thought but sped up a little as they neared home.

He crashed into the lobby and leant on the counter in the dark. Spike could feel waves of tension pouring off the rigid shoulders. He came a little closer. 'Well…?'

Angel turned to him furiously. 'Shit, Spike! You were the one who pulled away.'

Spike gritted his teeth. 'I know. I'm sorry. Does that mean you don't want to…?'

Angel didn't reply, he just turned and snagged his hands into Spike's hair and pulled him sharply against him. Angel poured his body over Spike's, crushing him against the counter. He groaned and stretched Spike's arms wide, holding onto his wrists. Spike fought rising panic and looked into eyes that sparked with amber need. Angel sensed the returning reluctance and snarled very quietly, 'Do you fucking want this or not?'

Spike winced. 'Yes. No. Do you?'

Angel grimaced. 'I don't think I've got any choice.' Suddenly, explaining this odd comment, he began to push his body into Spike's. Fully dressed they just stood at the counter, Angel riding into Spike, grinding himself around, hiding his face in the crook of Spike's neck. After a while, Spike's fear ran from him, driven out by his swelling arousal. When Angel felt a matching hardness pressing back into his own, he made a valiant effort to move a hand down to release himself, or Spike, but the effort was lost. With a shudder, a deep groan, and flinging his head back, Angel clearly found his release against Spike's body. Not far behind, Spike freed his wrists and grabbed Angel's hair, pulling on it and raising himself up from the floor as if to escape the pleasure of his own.

Angel sank gently against Spike, and they stayed in that uncomfortable position for some time until Angel said, 'Ow,' and disentangled Spike's fingers from his hair. He stepped back, but kept his face lowered to the floor, pouting. Spike gave a small sigh and began to play with his rings. An acutely embarrassed silence fell between them. Angel made to speak, but shuffled his shoe against the tiles instead. Spike looked up quickly, but lowered his eyes before he caught Angel's gaze. Finally, Angel waved vaguely at the stairs and said quietly. 'I'm going to shower.'

He backed off and walked slightly stiffly to the bottom of the stairs, hesitated, but clearly thought better of whatever he had been about to say and went up silently.

Finally getting his rings just as he liked them, Spike followed slowly behind him and went to sit on his bed. Sitting in wet, cum filled jeans was no fun at all, especially as they were new and tighter than he was used to. He peeled them off disgustedly and tried to remember if he'd ever had that little self-control before. He seemed to remember an occasion when he'd been about fourteen….

He lay slowly back onto the bed, his feet still on the floor, unwilling to make the effort it would require to undress fully and get into bed.

He heard sounds from another room, heard water being turned on and listened to flesh being cleansed. He heard water being turned off and was sure he heard a towel being rubbed on skin. He heard sound once more in Angel's room: a creak of a bed, the switch of a light, then silence. The silence was particularly loud, and Spike listened to it for some time. He listened intently to hear Angel roll over, adjust his position, stretch, snore - anything to indicate that he slept - but he heard nothing but the silence.

Eventually, he stood and rummaged through the pile of new clothes and located some English style boxers that an intrigued Angel had insisted he buy. He pulled them on and went slowly out of his room and into the hallway. Angel's door was slightly ajar, and he pushed it open. He could make out the figure in the bed, head pillowed on folded arms. He went closer to the bed and just stood at the edge looking toward the indistinct face hidden in the gloom. It seemed to Spike as if he stood there for a very long time, but out of the corner of his eye, he only saw the digital clock change once. One minute and then an arm unfolded and stretched out. Spike slid into the cool, silky sheet, and the strong, sweet-smelling arm folded softly around him. He lay on his back too and watched the unfamiliar sight of car lights travelling across the ceiling. It was pretty, and he knew Angel liked watching it too.

'You haven't washed.'

'No. Sorry.'

'I like it.'

'That's cus you're a psycho, Angel.' He heard a faint chuckle but felt the large body move next to him. Angel extracted his arm from under Spike and slid down in the bed. Spike folded his arms under his head and continued to watch the lights, and Angel began to enjoy the stale smells up close and personal. He explored the thin cotton boxers lightly from the outside, brushing over the material, easing the buttons free and playing gently with the overstitching on the seams. He parted the unbuttoned front and left it open a little to enjoy the escaping curls as he trailed cool fingers up and down Spike's thigh. Enjoying that, Angel laid his head down on the springy pillow and watched his fingers repeatedly making their trails up and down the hard muscles. Every so often he turned his face into the flesh and hair, and breathed in deeply.

At the top of one finger trail, Angel paused, and instead of returning back toward the knees, he continued higher, until his fingers discovered and began to play with the soft, cotton-encased sac. He lifted his face and propped his head up on one elbow to watch the effect of this swelling moving under the midnight-blue material. He bent closer and sucked gently on the rounded shape, pushing it up to his mouth from below with a gentle hand. When the cotton was soaked, he seemed to need more, for he mouthed gently to the side and nuzzled in through one leg opening. His lips then came into contact with Spike's soft, creased sac. He paused, as if at the novelty, but adjusted his position slightly to free his other hand. With both hands, he now eased Spike out of the side of his boxers, pushing the material to one side so that his balls hung free, if rather constricted by the tightening cotton. He ignored a faint hiss from above him and placed his mouth to the soft, hairy globes.

They fit into his mouth. They parted to his tongue. They wobbled when he sucked them. They hardened and twitched when he blew on his own cooling saliva trails. He tucked them back in and gracefully slid back up Spike's body. Silently, he pulled off the stale-smelling T-shirt, and then stretched Spike's arms gently above his head. Holding both wrists in one hand loosely, he bent to Spike's armpit and breathed deeply once more, rubbing his face into the masculine scent, nibbling slightly into the dark blond hair. Once more he ignored a faint hiss but turned its author to face him. He released Spike's wrists and put both hands to his face, cupping the sharp cheekbones. He stared at the face as if not recognising it. He ran his fingers up into the short hair and pulled none too gently on the dirty blond strands. He frowned slightly as his fingers slid off the ends long before they reached Spike's neck, and then did it again as if contrasting it with longer hair. Finally, he placed his lips to Spike's neck and began to nuzzle into the soft flesh.

A shift, like a silent, contorted sneeze, and Angel saw the tight, pale column through demonic eyes. He pressed and was through, and Spike's rich blood flowed into his mouth. Just one taste and he withdrew, licking until the wound healed as his human form eased back.

Angel stretched one arm down, pulled the thick, soft comforter over them both. He laid a heavy arm over Spike's chest and bent his leg over the slim hips. He pushed his face into the still flushed neck hollow, took one deep breath in and said quietly, 'You smell very good.'

Spike counted half a dozen car lights, and then he knew no more until he sensed that it was day.

He opened his eyes and tried to orientate himself to consciousness. He was sprawled. Angel was sprawled. They occupied the bed as if they both belonged in it. Some of Angel was on him, and some of his body lay over Angel. Angel was still deeply asleep, and Spike saw no reason not to join him again.

The next time he woke, they were completely tangled together, Angel's head on his chest, still asleep and, surprisingly, breathing deeply. Spike listened to faint sounds from the hotel for a moment then joined Angel once more.

As soon as Spike woke for the third time, he knew he had been the only one asleep. Angel lay on his belly with his head pillowed on his arms, watching him. Spike was on his side, his face only inches from Angel's. He blinked and joined Angel in a mutual staring session. He wasn't as good at it as Angel and with a faint, shy smile eventually said quietly, 'I think the appeal of my smell is wearing off.'

Angel blinked and said equally quietly, 'Coincidence, or what? I was just thinking about you in a shower.'

Spike's eyes widened fractionally, and at this intensely intimate distance, Angel could see the deep blue irises dilate slowly. He watched, fascinated as long, black lashes swept down and brushed the top of Spike's cheeks as he blinked.

It puzzled him. 'Have you always been this beautiful, or am I having some kind of breakdown?'

Spike smiled. 'No, I've always been beautiful.' Angel continued to frown, so he added with a measure of genuine sadness, 'But it's never been relevant, cus I've always been male.'

Angel raised an eyebrow. 'So have I.'

This seemed to create a slight impasse between them, but it was not uncomfortable. Angel gave a small smile; Spike pouted back, but turned onto his belly so that he mirrored Angel's position. Angel kept Spike's gaze and said neutrally, 'I can still see the bruises.'

Spike twitched his back muscles involuntarily. 'I'd tell you if I could.'

'Why can't you? Especially now.'

'Don't use this against me.'

Angel frowned deeply. 'I'm not. Shit, Spike, you are so quick to become defensive.'

Spike rubbed his cheek on his folded arm as if he had an itch and said contritely, 'I know. Sorry.'

'Sorry enough to tell me?'

Spike laughed and rolled onto his back, shaking his head at Angel's tactics. 'Bastard.'

Angel stretched and sat up against the headboard, running his hands through his hair, watching Spike. Spike narrowed his eyes. 'What? I don't like that look.'

'This is just a look of total confusion, Spike. Your sire is confused, so you've a right to not to like it.'

Spike took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He sat up and faced Angel, tentatively putting a hand on his outstretched leg. 'I've liked this though. No dreams, in case you haven't noticed.'

Angel nodded thoughtfully. 'Unless this is a dream.'

Spike's face creased up with worry, and Angel glanced at him teasingly though lowered lids. 'Got ya.'

Spike gritted his teeth and hit him hard on the belly. Angel doubled up unnecessarily and caught at Spike's wrist to prevent further attack. Inches apart once more, playful, both semi-naked, it was inevitable where they went from there. Angel pulled Spike down on top of him, and Spike shifted until he was lying completely over Angel's hard body. He began to move, just rubbing them together. Angel's eyes widened as he felt a familiar surge building and wanted more, but did not know exactly what that more would entail. He took hold of Spike's upper arms as if to change their position, but Spike batted the hold away and, instead, held Angel's wrists down, spread-eagling his arms out to the side as he rocked them together. Angel's erection tented in his soft pyjama bottoms, and he felt it grazing Spike's. He remembered the tantalizing feel of that hard column through Spike's boxers the previous evening and suddenly felt desperate to see it, hold it. He tried to move once more, but Spike leant into the hold, and his movements became frantic. Angel couldn't withstand the promise of release. His balls were so high and tight it made him groan, and with that groan, Spike's eyes flew open, and he breathed a long, soft, 'Yess' that sent shivers of desire down Angel's spine. His eyes flew open too; he tried to speak, but only an incoherent 'Cumnow' escaped him. Spike understood though, for he threw back his head and stilled his hard rubbing, and they felt cool fluid gush between them, once more trapped by the thin layers of material that separated their flesh.

Spike moaned softly as his penis jerked and spasmed with ejaculation, trapped against Angel's hard belly. He looked down and watched a growing stain of dampness soaking Angel's pants. He felt Angel's orgasm, felt his shudders of pleasure. He dragged his eyes up to Angel's face and was intensely pleased to see none of Angel's avowed confusion in his eyes. On the contrary, he saw an almost feral enjoyment of their bodies sharing in this way. He lifted up on his strong shoulders, dragging himself up to Angel's face, the movement grinding newly sensitive cocks together enough to make them both wince with delight. Agonisingly slowly, Spike lowered his lips to Angel's, occasionally stopping his progress, at first to check Angel's agreement but eventually to enjoy Angel's desperate anticipation. Finally, Angel wrenched his hands free and crushed Spike to him; powerful arms folded over Spike's back then hands splayed over his spine, enjoying his skin as Angel's tongue enjoyed his lips.

They both suddenly discovered that they liked kissing each other. This was not kissing from imminent orgasm: a blind, male foreplay to ensure release. This was post-orgasmic playfulness, and they discovered pleasure from the other's mouth that they had never anticipated. They matched: both liking to bite and tease and play, both losing themselves when the intensity swelled, both finding tongue and taste suited.

Angel's hands dipped lower toward the small of Spike's back, but he felt unmistakable tension grip the thin body. Without making too much of the withdrawal, Angel patted Spike affectionately and rolled him off to one side. He glanced down at their respective bodies and nodded, as if to himself. 'Shower. Now. I've past my limit of tolerance.'

Spike, well aware that Angel was humouring him, nodded too and said quietly, 'Thanks.'

Angel pretended to take this as a reference to the shower and got up, peeling his pants away from his body with a grimace. 'Come on.'

Spike got up and trailed after him to the bathroom. The light was too bright, and he squinted for a while as he watched Angel potter. Angel handed him a towel, and then they both paused and just stood looking at each other.

Angel looked at his towel and removed a small piece of fluff. Spike lifted his foot and scratched absentmindedly at his ankle. Angel suddenly said in a rush, 'Would you rather take a separate shower? I mean this is….'

Immensely relieved, Spike just patted his arm and said with a small laugh, 'Give me a shout when you've finished, yeah?'

They gave each other small, very personal smiles, and Spike spun on his heel and went into his own room.

He stretched and looked at the unslept-in bed with slightly bewildered pleasure. He had never returned to his own bed from someone else's. He felt that in all the years he had existed he ought to have done this many times. He was absurdly pleased that he had done it now. Spike glanced back toward the open door. He looked once more at the bed. A slow smile spread across his face.

He had not expected to feel anticipation ever again.

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