Chapter 9

Angel paused once more in the doorway, just looking at the pale torso spread-eagled in his bed. Spike appeared to have gone back to sleep, for there was no movement as he approached the bed. Whether this spoke well of the trust Spike now seemed to place in him or badly of his power to attract, Angel wasn't sure. He slid in alongside the still figure and folded his arms under his head, staring at the ceiling, thinking about the strange twists and turns of the last few days.

The incident with the sunlight had unnerved him more than he had admitted to the others. If it had not been for the exceptionally quick thinking of Fred and Wesley - throwing a coat over him and a fire blanket over Spike, and shoving them down into the darkened basement - Wolfram and Hart would have one less enemy. It had been like a slap in the face: Vampire - see how you are damned and forever forbidden God's light! They had been laughing at him, and Angel did not care much for anyone laughing at him.

'What you thinkin' about?'

'Nothing.' Angel shifted his gaze from the ceiling to Spike's curled back. He looked at the prominent spine disappearing into the folds of the sheets. He smiled and amended this quietly. 'Something….' There was the faintest of chuckles, and Spike turned obligingly onto his back.

Wordlessly, Angel slid down in the bed. He pushed the sheets down with a sense of confused anticipation. To his surprise, Spike had not come naked to the bed. As with the previous evening, he was wearing some boxer shorts. Angel smiled as he recognised the black silk ones they had argued over buying: Spike eventually giving into his insistence that they were perfect for his pale form. He brushed the tip of one finger over the swelling that now enhanced their perfect lines and murmured unthinkingly, 'Thank you.' He heard an insult from above but ignored it with a smile.

He put his face to the warm silk and inhaled once more. The smell was as good as the previous night, and it tightened his balls with an urgent need for release. He began to breathe deeply to calm himself and to subdue the demon inside him.

He wanted this to last.

As before, he slowly unbuttoned the front of the boxers, using just one hand. He could feel a steel-hard erection under the tips of his fingers shifting and twitching to his touch. It was so different to anything he had experienced before that Angel wondered how he had ever been content to arouse fixed flesh that could never respond to his touch in this way. This was an affirmation of his skill, of his need, and it made him only harder and more desperate to orgasm.

When the front of Spike's boxers lay open, Angel slipped his hand into their warm contents. He heard a soft grunt and felt Spike tense at the entry. He smiled and paused, just holding his hand still, hidden under the dark silk. If he thought this would punish Spike for daring to make such an enticing sound, he was caught out by his own game when strong, insistent fingers entwined in his hair and began to play with the spiky strands. All Angel's desire and need for release shot into his balls at that sensuous touch, and he had to bury his face into Spike's hard belly and concentrate on nothing but control for some minutes. Spike took no mercy on him and continued to make soft, intimate movements through his hair.

When self-control returned, Angel lifted his face and flashed one quick sire-like look up at his victim. Spike did not appear to notice it; he was staring up at the moving light patterns on the ceiling with a look of calm surrender on his face.

Angel smiled. Trying to ignore the rhythmic feel of the strong, slim fingers in his hair, he returned once more to the dark area in front of him. Despite the number of orgasms they had shared over the last few days, Angel had yet to actually see anything of Spike, other than the glimpse of soft globes he had enjoyed the previous night. He propped his head up on one hand and slipped his other back into the shadowed opening where it lay softly over the hard flesh concealed there. He cast his mind back over their complex relationship and tried to remember if he had ever seen Spike's penis before. He felt he would remember if he had, and that he had no memory at all of ever seeing Spike so exposed only added to his sense of anticipation now. With a slow blink of disbelief, Angel cupped the erect shaft and eased it out through the opening to lie pale and thick on the black silk. Spike's fingers ceased their repetitive spiking and curling of the dark hair, and they both seemed to be waiting, unsure, for one of them to make the next move.

Angel risked a small glance up and saw with a tingle that flayed down his spine that Spike was now watching him with some considerable interest. He held the gaze for a moment, then without looking away from the intense look, rested his flat palm over the erection. He did not miss the long, slow blink of desire that fluttered Spike's eyelashes onto his cheeks. Angel began to grind his hand around in response and heard a snatched breath from his non-breathing childe.

Once begun, Angel could not stop touching Spike's erection. The skin was so soft - he had not expected it to feel so soft and dry. The prominent veins intrigued him, and he ran fingers up and down them like little trains on a track, until Spike lifted his hips off the bed and dug his fingers painfully into Angel's scalp. Angel waited for the moment to pass, then shifted on his elbow fractionally so he could give his attention to the hidden areas under the foreskin. Pinching the loose skin gently between thumb and forefinger, he pulled it up, free of the bulbous head and rubbed it between his fingers. Once more, he had to wait for Spike to release a painful hold on his hair, but then he eased the soft silky covering off the area he most wanted to see.

He gasped at the raw need that awaited his gaze. The tip of Spike's penis was deep red and weeping, the slit swollen, gaping and raw. Saliva poured involuntarily into Angel's mouth as he looked at it. Blood drained from the conscious parts of his brain and flooded into his own penis, so he felt it pressing painfully into the mattress. The hands on his hair became more directed in their movements, Spike urging his face closer. He took the root of the shaft in his hand and directed the tip toward his mouth. He just brushed it lightly over his top lip to test its appeal. It was very appealing, and he probed gently into the wet rawness with his tongue.

Spike suddenly took his hands off Angel's hair as if deliberately removing the temptation to force Angel lower. Instead, he propped himself up on his elbows to watch, his abs crunching, providing a pale, erotic backdrop to the blue-veined, flushed shaft.

Angel shook the penis gently by the root, tapping it against his lips. Spike tipped his head back, his neck stretched and exposed. For a brief moment, Angel remembered sinking his teeth into that flesh, when it had been warm and easy for the taking. He looked down at the soft, spongy flesh that was at his mouth now and realised, with a profound sense of fulfilment, that his first taking had been no more than a prelude for this. He eased the foreskin off and enclosed the whole head in his warm, generous mouth. Spike cried out, one sharp, high-pitched cry of intense pleasure, and to Angel's ears there was very little difference in that sound to the one he had felt vibrate against his lips nearly two hundred years ago.

Salty, hot, slippery flesh in his mouth for the first time - Angel fell back on instinct alone. He did what he liked to be done unto him, and for a demon, that small blasphemy only added to the pleasure of the act. It wasn't so hard. He knew how to suck and draw out the anticipation. He knew how to take in deeply and tease out sounds of exquisite need. He knew how to use tongue and teeth to maximum effect, and it did not take long before they both knew that Spike was at a point of no return. Angel felt the penis stiffen beyond the possible; he felt a tense urgency tremor throughout Spike's body. He hesitated. He knew Spike knew he was hesitating. He lifted his mouth off the swelling, throbbing member and let Spike's sperm jet out onto the hard abs.

Spike's chest was rising and falling as he panted out a very human orgasm. Angel slid up the pale form and lay alongside him on the pillow. He watched Spike's face in profile for a while then said quietly, 'Sorry.'

Spike didn't reply. He turned and caught the back of Angel's head almost aggressively. He pulled Angel forcibly to him and bit at his mouth with intense need. Angel responded to the lips and rose over Spike, their mouths now open wide, tongues battling together. There was no doubt in Angel's mind that Spike was enjoying the kissing as much as he was. Darla had been all demon; Buffy inexperienced. Spike was neither. He knew where to probe, how to play, how to use teeth and tongue and lips.

As they kissed, Angel realised he was playing his fingers in the sticky pool on Spike's abs. He bought his hand up to their mouths and shared his fingers between them, groaning at the flash of eager compliance that briefly lit Spike's eyes. It was a small apology, but Angel knew Spike understood that he would not waste this fluid again.

Suddenly, batting away Angel's fingers, Spike took his mouth back to where he wanted to be. On the shared taste of the salty fluid, they kissed again. Angel groaned faintly into the soft warm touch of flesh and lifted a leg over Spike's waist. The kissing went on, and he eased his dark form over Spike. He began soft rocking movements. Spike moaned. Angel gasped, pulled away, and buried his face into Spike's neck as he rose and lowered, rose and lowered over the damp flesh. He heard a whisper from Spike, but did not hear what the offer was. There was no time to ask. With a grunt, digging his hands painfully into Spike's shoulders, Angel came over the slick belly, his fluid mixing and pooling with his childe's and running over the slim figure to dampen and stain his sheets.

It became very quiet in the room. Angel made to slide off as he always had to with lovers, but Spike lazily twisted one strong leg around and clamped him tightly. Only some time later, when he reached under a pillow to retrieve his stashed cigarettes, did Spike release his hold and allow Angel to return to his side of the bed.

Angel lay on his belly, his face on folded arms watching the small glowing tip of Spike's cigarette. The smell of tobacco could not disguise other, more tantalising smells. He wanted to know what Spike was thinking, wanted to ask him if he was okay with things. He'd felt more diffident - more confused - than he had with a seventeen-year-old human, female virgin. This puzzled him immensely, given Spike was no more and no less than his own flesh and blood. Finally, he plucked up the courage to speak and cleared his throat slightly before attempting it. He was saved by a quiet question. 'Where's the stick insect? Thought she lived here.'

Angel made a small sound of relief at the interruption, and had the distinct impression that Spike smirked slightly at this. He propped himself up one elbow and borrowed Spike's cigarette for a few puffs, ignoring the pointed look to reply, 'She'll be with Gunn. She stays there mostly now.'

Spike turned on his side in a mirror image of Angel and raised an eyebrow. 'Huh. That's an interesting picture.'

'Don't be fooled by Fred's apparent vulnerability. If you ever need help, Spike, go to Fred. She's the one I….'

'Not the watcher?'

There was a very long pause. So long that Spike offered his cigarette voluntarily with an amused, 'And…?'

'Wesley tests me the most. He wants something from me I can't give him.'

Spike frowned. 'Cus you're giving it to me now?'

Angel choked on the cigarette and sat up with a glare. 'I meant goodness, Spike! I can't be perfect enough for him. Jeez, idiot childe, he doesn't… I don't….'

Spike turned lazily on his back. 'I'll say yeah in a tone like I'm agreeing with you, Angel.'

Angel wound his fingers into Spike's hair and playfully forced him to twist his head around. 'You think Wesley wants me?'

'I think he'd like to feed you his very essence until there was nothing of him left, yeah.'

Angel turned the hold on the soft, rumpled locks into an almost painful caress and said, amused, 'You really do need to get out more, Spike.'

Spike removed the hold on his hair, took back his cigarette and, when he saw it was done, flicked it onto the floor with a small smirk.

Angel slid back down. 'It's nearly light.'

'Time for all good vampires to be asleep. Do you want me to go?'

Angel gave him a brief, intense look from under hooded eyes. 'What do you think?'

Permission granted, Spike spread his limbs over as much of the bed as Angel's presence allowed and fell into a calm, relaxed sleep.

Angel slipped out of the bed, washed once more, locked the door on his return and slid in to join his childe in sweet oblivion.

Spike woke after a few hours and heard a telephone ringing incessantly. He hoped it wouldn't wake Angel and waited impatiently for it to stop. It did. He closed his eyes. He heard footsteps at the door and opened them again. The door swung open, and Angel stood smiling in the doorway. Spike pouted and slid his hand back over the mattress, until it connected with a hard, sleeping form behind him. Keeping his hand there, he watched the approaching figure cautiously, trying very hard to make the cautious watching nonchalant as well.

Angel sat on the edge of the bed and shook his head sadly. 'This won't do, Childe, will it?'

'Seems okay to me.'

'Okay? Okay…. When have you ever settled for okay?'

'It was a figure of speech intended to piss you off. It's more than okay.'

'You know it won't last.'

'Maybe, maybe not. I've got it now. And did I say go away yet?'

'You don't really want me to go. You'll lose him soon, and then you'll need me. I'll be all you'll have left.'

'Lose him.' Despite his desperate nonchalance, Spike could not keep an infinitesimal change of tone out of his voice, and he knew the creature heard it.

'There's something coming, Spike, and it's coming for Angel. You will lose him.'

'I don't believe you. You are nothing but the ghost of a robot; you know shit about shit, and I programmed you anyway.'

'You did, and you did a great job. You did such a great job that I can tell you… no more headings. Don't you get it, Spike? Beginning, Early Days, Later, Now? What did you leave out?' The creature leant right against his ear and whispered, 'Tomorrow.' He shook his head sadly. 'You forgot to add a future.'

Spike suddenly reared off the bed and hit the creature with the hardest punch he could manage from that disadvantageous position. Angel woke at the very moment that Spike plummeted off the bed. He slid to Spike's side and peered over the edge, bemused. Spike looked at him from the floor then stood up slowly. 'Maybe I'd better…. Restless, ya know?' He backed toward the door and tried to open it, discovering it was locked from the inside. This only seemed to confuse him more, for he wrenched desperately on the bolt and went into the hallway with slightly shaky hands. Angel sat in the bed for a while, thinking.

Spike climbed into his own cold bed and lay very still, trying very hard not to think. He heard the door open and did not turn his head. 'Go away. I don't believe you. You're just fucking with me another way.'

He felt the mattress depress, and he was pulled into insistent arms. 'I get angry when something has the temerity to invade my bedroom when I'm sleeping with my childe. Why don't you introduce me, Spike? Maybe this ghost of yours would like to meet me in person.' Spike twisted himself up into the comfort being offered.

Angel had not expected a reply. He had not expected Spike to suddenly say with an unmistakable conviction, 'You have to leave this place, Angel.'

He didn't comment but replied instead by running his hand up and down Spike's spine with a repetitive reassurance that seemed to assuage some of the demons within. He leant down and twitched up the covers. 'Go to sleep, Spike. It will not come again.'

'It may not need to.'

'Shhh. What is written is written. We can't alter fate.'

'You don't believe that.'

Angel paused then kissed into Spike's hair. 'No. I don't. But I want to go to sleep.' He felt Spike relax fractionally and sighed gratefully. He was just drifting into a much-needed sleep when he felt Spike shift slightly in his arms.

'Huh. I'm not dreaming, but you're in my bed.'

Angel opened his eyes and glanced pointedly at the bright daylight beyond the shutters with a small huff of annoyance. 'Will it help you go to sleep if I remind you it's kinda mine? It's all mine, Spike, remember? I own everything in this place.'

Once more Angel felt himself tipping over the edge of sleep, but as he did, he caught the soft reply, 'You do now,' and took that thought into sleep with him.