The Games We Play - Chapter 3
The whole trip home, Spike kept a rueful, self-deprecating
smile on his face. He even shook himself a couple of times and berated himself
for being such a fool. Why had he done it? It had not been part of the game.
And he was not sure how to tell this part when he got home. He did not know
how he would relate his strange behaviour to his eager partner awaiting his
return. He’d messed up, and he thought he might be in trouble.
Dawn made Buffy take her to the airport to meet Spike's plane. Buffy didn't want to, but she gave in to the usual teenage sulks and agreed. They stood in the lounge watching the arrivals. A stream of people came through, and they spotted Spike. He was not difficult to distinguish; his distinctive hair and clothes made him stand out from the run-of-the-mill arrivals. Spike seemed to spot them, for his face broke into a huge grin, and he sped up, pushing past some of the other passengers. But it was odd, as he got closer and they stepped forward, he did a double take, and appeared to see them for the first time. His smile hardly lessened, but now it did not quite reach his eyes. As Buffy gave him a calm, collected greeting Dawn, bored already, was looking around for something more interesting to watch, and suddenly said, 'Look, isn't that Angel?'
Buffy turned to see where she was looking. She didn't believe her, of course, and so was shocked to see Angel standing by the newsstand watching them. She went across to him in a daze. She'd only seen him once since she'd 'come back' and that had been a sad, intense meeting.
'Why are you here?'
'Err, I needed to speak with you, and Willow said you were here.'
'Oh.' She didn't remember telling Willow, but then she had trouble concentrating these days.
By this time, Dawn and Spike had joined them. Angel ignored Spike, and Spike ignored Angel.
'We're meeting Spike; he's been in England.' Dawn linked arms with Spike, as she announced this.
Angel was forced to look at Spike. He gave him a brief glance, and Buffy sensed a tension in both vampires. It appeared their mutual antipathy was as strong as ever.
'Well, as I'm here, I may as well give you all a ride.' Angel turned on his heel and made his way out of the concourse.
Buffy, naturally, thought she should ride in the front with Angel, which left Dawn and Spike in the back. They'd only been driving about five minutes when Spike leant forward and tapped Angel on the shoulder. 'You owe me fifty dollars.'
Then he leant back and continued to stare silently out of the car at the passing traffic.
Dawn and Buffy gave each other a questioning look, and Buffy shrugged.
A few minutes later, Angel made a quiet reply. 'I'll want proof.'
Spike made no comment, but Dawn noticed a small smile appear.
Angel dropped them all off at Buffy's and seemed keen to leave.
'Didn't you want to talk to me?'
'It was nothing really; I can telephone you later.' She was puzzled, but had to leave it there as Xander was calling to her from the house.
Still looking casually out of the front of his car, Angel said quietly to Spike, 'Want a ride to your place?'
Spike replied equally quietly, 'Yes', and jumped in alongside Angel.
They drove off without a glance back at the others.
'Thanks for coming, I wasn't expecting you.'
'Backfired a bit.'
'You're here though.'
'So are you, now.'
'So, where's my fifty dollars?'
'Where's the proof?'
'Blow by blow description do?'
'How about just a blow?'
'Oh yeah… drive faster.'
'Am. How much further?'
They were silent for the rest of the trip, too much tension between them to speak. Spike just sat and watched Angel's face in profile as he drove.
He sometimes wondered what would have happened to him if he had not been the one chosen to tell Angel that Buffy had been brought back. He had gone to LA confused, depressed, and worried. He'd worked alongside them all summer, and yet they had not told him. He had told them, though: these things always have repercussions. He had had no idea just how true that was to be.
Angel had been incandescent with rage. Spike had almost matched him in his fury. So, for the first time in over one hundred years, they agreed on something. Angel finally had someone to talk to who understood the power of life and death. They had talked and talked all night. Talking had led to other things, and these other things had been enjoyed by both of them. Then Spike left to return to Sunnydale. They had no long-term plans; it had just been a one-off. But Spike had phoned to see how he was; Angel had invited him to come back for a few days. He'd gone, and they had both fallen into a sea of emotions so deep that, at times, they had felt themselves to be drowning. Finally, Angel had someone he could love, someone strong enough to cope with his dark, brooding desires, someone to lavish all his attention and considerable capacity for love on. And in Spike, he found someone who was happy to take everything he had to offer. He was the perfect sponge for love. He absorbed Angel's need like a black hole that Angel could never fill.
They arrived at the cemetery and parked up. Spike sprang out of the car and walked off towards his crypt. Angel watched his retreating back for a moment then leapt out and followed him.
Spike went in and flung his bag into the corner. He opened his mouth to speak but found himself being propelled violently against the wall and crushed under Angel's considerable weight.
'You fucking whore, I can smell him on you. You slept with him, didn't you?'
Spike felt a frisson of excitement run down his spine. This was going to be good. This was a new game: Angel-finds-out-that-Spike-has-slept-around-on-his-trip-to-England. Because that's what they did now: they played games with each other. It was just as Spike had told Giles. How do you keep yourself interested in 'life' when you are over a hundred years old? What do you do if you are nearer three hundred? You become inventive. And that's what it had been – England, Giles – just a game. Sitting drinking tea in Sunnydale, Spike had told Angel about the amulet. Angel had told him to take it, and had added some fun of his own.
'Bet me what, Angel?'
'Bet you can't seduce Giles.'
'Nah, can't be done.'
He had gone to England to take Giles, so that in the telling they would find the passion and excitement they craved like a drug. It was a constant struggle to find the new, and Spike had to give Angel credit, this accuse-Spike-of-being-a-whore game was new, and it was exciting. He gave Angel a cheeky look and licked his lips.
'Didn't, honest gov, I've been good.'
Angel hit him across the face then pulled him close, smelling deeply into his hair and clothes. Then he hit him again, the blow sending Spike reeling into the tomb.
'Fucking liar, Spike. I can smell him all over you.'
'Yeah, what can you smell, you fat ponce?'
Angel kicked him viciously in the belly. 'Giles, I can smell old human cum, Spike. You're a fucking whore, a slag, you go away for two nights and shag Giles.'
Spike tried to dodge behind the tomb, but Angel slid across the top and caught him. He tried to get him to the ground, but Spike was also strong. He resisted, and got a hard kick in to Angel's balls. Angel doubled up in pain, cursing, and Spike almost made it to the door. He was brought down by a flying rugby tackle that sent him crashing painfully hard into the wall. His head connected with a sickening thud, and the last thing he saw was Angel, in full game face, looming over him. He was only out for a moment because when he came to, Angel was still leaning over him, only now he was back in human face, and he was grinning at Spike. He was also holding his cock over Spike's face and working himself hard. 'Welcome back, little whore. Going to suck this now. Open up.'
Spike gave a small hiss of genuine fear. Two days without relief had left Angel's cock huge and angry.
Spike gritted his teeth, shook his head, and tried once more to scramble away, but Angel had his other hand around Spike's balls. He started to tighten his fist. Spike howled, and Angel just grinned some more.
'Open that pretty mouth, come on.'
As Spike didn't have any intention of doing that, he couldn’t reply quite as he wanted. Angel squeezed again though, and he had no choice. As he opened his mouth to cry out, Angel slammed his groin into Spike's face, forcing his penis into Spike's mouth. Even though he didn’t need to breathe, it made him gag. He was incandescent with rage and refused to suck, until Angel squeezed again. When he felt Spike getting into a delicious rhythm on his cock, Angel lost his concentration for a moment and let go of Spike's balls. He regretted it a moment later when a pair of incredibly strong, human jaws clamped down on his erection. He screamed and put both hands to Spike's head, trying to tear him off, pulling at his hair and ears. When he realised that would not work, he tried hitting him, but his blows were pretty ineffectual in that position. Spike's mouth began to fill with Angel's blood from the bite marks he was inflicting in the soft tip of Angel's cock. Angel knew he'd lost and begged him to let go. Spike relented and opened his mouth, only to find a heavy knee being placed across his throat.
'You fucking bastard, Spike, look what you've done to me.' Angel's cock was dripping blood onto Spike's face. The sight of that thin stream of red fluid seemed to excite Angel again, and he started working the bloody shaft right up close to Spike's face. The knee kept up the pressure on Spike's throat and, although he didn't need to breathe, Spike didn't want his windpipe crushed, so he kept still.
Angel became lost in his impending orgasm. He kept his eyes fixed on Spike's face. Spike continued to give him a mutinous look, until Angel reared back with a cry and shot a huge load of cum into Spike's face. It hit him in the eye and soaked into his hair and ran in rivulets down to the cold floor.
Spike slipped his tongue out and started licking at it. 'Cold. Just cold and dead. Can't compare.'
His words seemed to infuriate Angel. He dragged Spike by his sticky hair over to the ladder to the lower levels and threw him down.
Spike tried to crawl to the bed, but Angel landed on top of him and started systematically ripping at his clothes 'til he was naked except for his boots. He put one hand on the back of Spike's neck, forcing his face into the cold earth. 'Know what, Spike? I'm going to treat you like a proper whore now.'
'You can't get it up twice, you old, fat git.'
Angel's blow silenced him, and Spike felt his lower jaw crack. Angel told him to spread his legs.
'Fuck off, bastard.'
Angel started twisting Spike's arm up behind his back. Spike screamed in intense pain. 'Spread them then.'
Angel tore Spike's arm out of the shoulder socket, and Spike howled, tears streaking his face. 'Spread them.'
Spike had no choice, so he reluctantly spread his legs and lifted himself up. Angel was still as hard as if he had not released a flood of cum over Spike's face a moment ago. He rammed into Spike's tight, dry entrance with the force of two days' abstinence. Spike's anus tore badly and coated Angel's cock in blood. Spike was crying and started screaming at Angel, every expletive he could think of, in all the languages he knew swear words in.
Angel laughed and started to work Spike's hole, reveling in the smell and feel of the blood. He was so hard, he felt he could push right through Spike's stomach and on into the cold earth itself. He told Spike this as he thrust and was rewarded by a new round of obscenities.
'Tell me what you did, whore. Tell me how you fucked him.'
'I'm not telling you shit, you fuckwit.'
'Want me to do your other arm Spike, I can.'
'You bastard. I shagged 'im. I tricked 'im into me bed, then I blew 'im, and it was real good, poof. Had me dick deep in 'im, too, made 'im cum in me. Made him cry for me, Angel… how's that, like to know I was so good with 'im, he cried. Yeah, and know what? I didn't think of you the whole fucking time. He was hot Angel; he was alive and smelt and bled; you're just a pile of cold fucking shit, that's what.'
'Say it again.' Angel was heaving himself into Spike's ass; he felt he could obliterate himself in the feel of that cold, tight channel. 'Tell me what he felt like.'
'His mouth was hot, Angel, his ass felt like pushing me cock into hot jelly. My cum steamed on him, and his smell… you should have smelt him; he was like sex, blood and skin and hair; he filled me, Angel; I could have come to life again in his human power.'
Spike had found it difficult to stay in character despite the pain from his arm and his ass; he was deep in his memories of Giles. Angel's frantic thrusting became more measured, and he, too, seemed to find it difficult to play the game any more. He was rising up and down on Spike's back, working against the tight walls, holding Spike around the hips to try and lift him higher, make himself deeper. 'Make me feel it… tell me again.'
'Like a bath, Angel; he surrounded me like hot water. The sheets got hot; you should have felt them, and he tried to hurt me… I told him to hurt me, but he was like a child, and he felt so soft, and I could have wrapped myself up in him and stayed in that bed fucking him forever. He was so hot, and the hair on his body so soft; his skin tasted salty and warm, Angel, and his cum… oh, you should have tasted it, Angel, it was so strong, so thick and hot I thought it would burn me, and I wanted to be warmed by it.'
At this last image, Angel went rigid against Spike, and shot a load of ice cold cum into his ass. He shuddered for a minute against him, milking himself, then slid down to lie on top of Spike.
Spike slipped out to one side and took advantage of Angel's temporary incapacity to get a good series of kicks into Angel's belly and chest. 'Where's my bloody fifty dollars, you bastard?'
Angel groaned, dug into his pocket and threw Spike his wallet. 'Whore.'
And as Spike caught the wallet, they both looked at each other.
A new game: Angel-pays-Spike-for-sexual-favours.
Spike took a handful of notes and started counting them. Angel rose up and made a lunge for him.
'You weren't worth it, you cheap whore. I want my money back.'
Spike sidestepped and dodged around to the other side of the bed. 'Too late, punter. You got your rocks off, now pay up.'
Angel lunged over the bed and caught Spike by his dislocated arm. He howled in pain but didn't pull away. Angel tried to rip the notes out of Spike's hand, some of them tore, and the pieces fluttered to the ground. Spike fell to his hands and knees, trying to gather them together, tears in his eyes. 'You git, you had your fun; this is mine. I want it.'
Angel knelt with him and took a handful of the notes in his fist. 'Want this?' He shoved it in Spike's face. 'Then you're gonna get it.' He caught Spike around the waist and forced him over his lap. He took the crumpled ball of notes and put his hand down to Spike's backside, as if he was going to try and ram them up his arse. 'You want to be paid, whore. Well, here's your money.'
Fortunately, Spike could reach the side of the bed and, using it to grip onto, he pulled off Angel's lap and disappeared underneath.
'Hah, fat git, can't get in here, can you?'
Angel was furious. Whether he could or couldn't, he wasn’t about to risk it. Just in case. But he got onto the bed and started bouncing, sending the springs into Spike, and forcing him to dodge around. He tried to escape out the opposite side, but Angel was ready for him. He jumped off on top of him, catching him around his slim waist again.
Angel pushed Spike up against the wall; Spike thought he was in for another fucking, or worse, when Angel unexpectedly sunk to his knees in front of him. He looked up at Spike.
Spike immediately recognised the look.
New game. Spike-pays-Angel-for-sex.
Spike hit Angel over the head. 'Blow me.'
'It's twenty dollars.'
'That's fucking outrageous.' He hit him in the face, this time drawing blood from Angel's lower lip. 'Fucking put that mouth round me, now.'
Spike handed back over some torn notes, and Angel took the erect, weeping cock on to the back of his throat. Spike dug his fingers into Angel's hair and started tugging hard at the spiky strands. Angel's throat was strong, and he clenched and unclenched the muscles over the cold shaft.
'Who's the whore now, Angel? You'd suck your mother, if you hadn't killed her already. Like that, hey? Like the feel of my cock in your throat? Yeah, feel it baby, suck it for me. You like tasting my spunk, hey? You're a fucking poof, Angel. You love the taste of it, don't you? You'd like to drink your humans' cum, I know. I've seen you looking at them; you'd drink them dry. And you like being on your knees, don't you? Rather we were in some shitty alley though, wouldn't you. Like me against the wall, hey? Harder, you poof, earn your fucking money. Use your tongue, too, yeah, that's it, that's nice, oh nice little sucker you are, yeah, giving really good head, Angel. Just like he did. Like being compared with a human? Well work for it, like he did. Harder Angel… harder… harder… oh, fuck, I'm cuming.…'
Spike could hold out no longer, he felt an explosive orgasm ride into Angel's mouth. He trembled against Angel's lips; his knees felt weak, and he desperately wanted to lie down and sleep. His arm was agony; his torn hole throbbing painfully, and his body a mass of cuts and bruises.
When Angel had finished drinking, they were both still and quiet for a while. Angel stayed on his knees sucking gently on Spike's cock, playing with his balls, and then he sat back on his heels and grinned up at him.
Spike shook his head and collapsed sidewards on the bed with a theatrical groan. Angel laughed, finished undressing and slipped in alongside him.
Angel took Spike's shoulder and popped it back into the socket. Spike stayed silent throughout. Then he rolled over on his back and gave Angel a cheeky look.
'So, what was with the 'slag' stuff, Angel. Bit bloody East End for you, wasn't it, mate? Thought I was being shagged by Bob bleedin' Hoskins for a minute there.'
Angel just laughed and bit him lightly on the neck. 'Well, I couldn’t think of any other words for 'whore', and I was kind of distracted. By you.'
'Don't bite me there, Angel, keep it out of sight. Dawn saw the last bite you gave me; lucky it wasn't one of the others.'
Spike bit Angel instead, running his tongue over the cool skin of his neck. Then he placed a swift, loving kiss on his lips.
Angel spooned Spike into him, pressing Spike's back against his belly, wrapping his arms tightly around Spike's chest. He started kissing into his hair.
'You've got cum in your hair.'
'Well, what'd'ya know. You told me not to shower.'
'Yeah, it smells good.'
'Wanna play again?'
'No, Spike, I don't want to play again. I want you just like this.'
'Like this do you?'
'I missed you.'
'You wouldn't have seen me anyway.'
'But if I had wanted to, I couldn't.'
'But you wouldn't have wanted to; you never do midweek.'
'Shut up. I missed you, okay? And thanks for the call; I was hard for hours after that, and I was in the office.'
'Can't you train one of your pretty humans to blow you? I'll give them some lessons, if you want.'
'So, are you going to tell me what happened then?'
'It was like I said… it was easier than I thought. Wished I'd tried it years ago. I worked him all evening, you know, all me best stuff.'
'Did you wear the leather?'
'Oh yeah, you should have seen his face. Bit like yours when you see me in it.'
'Will you put it on for me tonight?'
'Yeah, and take it off again, if you want.'
'So, how did you start him off? That must have been the hardest part.'
'Nah, he came to me with a stonker. His first for years, I'd say. So I just helped him out with that and things progressed nicely.'
'How? How did you help him out?
Spike turned in Angel's arms to look at him. 'Want me to demonstrate?'
He slid lower in the bed and took Angel's soft cock in his mouth. 'It'd be better if it was hard Angel… oh, there you go.'
He took it to the back of his throat, and then released it and looked back up at Angel. 'He'd come by now. That's all it took.'
'Show me again. I didn't quite get it.' Spike grinned and proceeded to work Angel's cock a little harder than he'd had to work Giles'. When he felt Angel about to cum, he pulled off and used his fist to milk Angel until he was dry, lying with his head on Angel's belly, his face only inches away from the spurting tip.
When he'd recovered enough to speak, Angel pulled him up for a kiss and said, 'Why'd you do that?'
Spike grinned and laid his forehead against Angel's. 'Wanted to watch for once. Looked good.' Angel turned Spike back to spoon into him again and started lazily running his fingers though his sticky hair. Spike thought he had forgotten about England, until Angel's quiet voice whispered in his ear, 'Did he let you enter him?'
'And you came in him?'
'Fuck, Spike, you are incredible.'
'Don't swear Angel. It doesn’t suit you, and I don't like it.'
'Sorry… so, what did he look like, when you told him it was just a game?'
'Oh, he was a picture, Angel. You should have seen him… totally destroyed.'
'And you left him, just like that?'
Spike stretched a lazy stretch, which he knew would press his backside onto Angel's cock. He hoped this would distract Angel enough for him not to notice the lie. 'Yeah.'
Angel was pleased. 'Huh, so… what do you want to do now?'
'Thought you didn't want to play.'
'I don't. I want you, though. Just us. Please.'
'Do you still love me?'
'What you really mean is, have I bought you a present while I've been missing you enough to die over the last three days.'
'Well, yeah. Have you?'
'Look in my pocket.'
Spike scrambled out of bed and dug into Angel's coat pocket. He came out with a small silver box the size of a cigarette packet.
'Cool. What is it?'
Angel laughed. 'Come back to bed, and I'll show you.'
Spike snuggled into Angel's arms and they started playing with the Ipac mini computer. They immediately got onto the internet, and that occupied them both for a couple of hours.
But eventually bored with surfing for porn, Angel made Spike put his new toy away and started stroking him slowly on his lean, strong back.
'Any lotion left?' Angel's voice was husky and filled with need.
'Not much, Giles liked it.'
Angel laughed. 'Do you think he got the vanilla part?'
'Angel, he had four fucking erections, I think he got it. I think in his mind my blond hair was just a little bit longer, don't you?'
'So, gonna get it for me?'
'No, you fat lazy git, you get it.'
'Stop calling me fat, Spike. Just because you seem to be able to eat like a pig. Don’t… let go… fuck off… that is not fat; that's muscle.' Angel started laughing at Spike's roving hands on his waist and hips, and decided to go without the lotion. 'You still bleeding by any chance?'
'Jees, Mr Sensitive, ain't you? I'll get the bloody stuff.'
Spike climbed up the ladder to retrieve his bag. He stayed up top for a while and lit a cigarette. How was he going to tell Angel the unplanned-for ending of his little trip? He sat on the window seat, looking out over the cemetery. He felt incredibly tired and sore, but he felt as if the love he had for Angel could seep out through his skin and heal all his wounds. Before he went to LA, he had been as dead in his heart, as he was in his body. Fuck, he'd actually shagged a robot, he'd been so desperate and sad. Now he felt more alive than he remembered being when he had been alive. He was replete with love.
Cold arms slipped around him from behind. 'Come back to bed; I miss you.'
Spike laughed. 'I told Giles that, worked like a charm on him, too.'
He let Angel lead him back to the bed.
Angel started rubbing his hand around the jar of lotion and transferring the thick substance onto Spike's hole. It felt cool against the torn skin. Angel used one strong finger to ease all around the puckered ring, occasionally dipping it in to rub against the soft swelling he had imagined feeling for the last three days. He watched Spike's face. His head was thrown back, his eyes closed in pleasure. The soft candlelight illuminated him like a saint in a medieval painting. Angel smiled to himself, Spike was a blasphemy: something demonic that made him feel human. As opposed to the humans who all made him feel demonic. Spike never reminded him he was a vampire. He didn't need to. Spike never asked him to be something he wasn't, except when they played their games. Angel was good at playing. He'd had nearly three hundred years practice. He started working a second finger into Spike, but saw that Spike had now opened his eyes and was watching him.
He stopped Angel's hand for a moment.
'Ah, here it comes.'
'What?' Innocent little boy pout.
Almost a new game, almost the naughty-Spike-needs-someone-to-teach-him-things game, but Angel wanted to talk, and refused to get into character.
'You've been wanting to tell me something since you got back, haven't you?'
'Well, come on Spike, out with it, because I want to be in with it, soon.'
'Well….' Spike plucked at a thread on the sheet. 'You know I said he was destroyed, and I just left him like that.'
'Oh, Angel, you should have seen him; he was incredible. He sort of turned in on himself. I swear, you'd never have known I'd just destroyed him. He was so… so… brave.'
'Brave… brave… are you joking Spike… are you telling me that the Big Bad thought Rupert Giles was brave…?'
'Well, yeah. He was. He was brave, and he was sweet.'
'Sweet!' Angel was laughing so hard, he had to lie on his back. Spike slid over and laid his head on Angel's chest and played with his nipple lightly.
'Stop that… you can't manipulate me… I'm not a brave, sweet human.'
'Shut up, Angel. I can't help it. You weren't there. He wore his suit and drove me to the station. Stop it Angel… it's not funny. He thanked me for coming. Shut up, he didn't mean it that way. Angel… shut up.'
'So….' Angel tried really hard to speak. 'So… what did you do, Spike, with your brave, sweet, well-dressed, polite human?'
'I told him I'd come back. Next month.'
Angel pushed Spike off and sat up in the bed. 'You did what?'
'I invited meself back for a holiday.' Spike remembered the feel of Giles' lips on his in that last kiss. Remembered how he had leant in to that warm human ear and whispered those unexpected words.
'Giles… you made me breathe. One hundred and thirty years, Pet, and I've never done that with a human. You were very, very good, and I want you again. I'm coming back, next month, and I'm gonna bring someone else for you.'
Giles had looked at him shocked. 'Buffy?'
And he had leant back and whispered in his ear. 'Nah, you're going to be meat in a Vampire sandwich, Pet.
It took Angel hours to stop laughing enough to make love to Spike.
That's how they thought of it: making love. So different from the hot, body-breaking, mind-numbing sex they shared when they played their games. They had no trouble distinguishing in their minds when they were playing their games and when they made love. They switched seamlessly between the two with a confidence borne out of blood and need. When they had sex, they put on roles and broke each other's bodies, blanked out their minds and tried to escape their individual, painful lives. It enabled Angel to be rational and calm when he was trying to live a human life; it allowed him to work out his demon passions and desires safely. It was the opposite for Spike: it allowed him to live the demon life he craved and could not. It allowed him to cause pain once more.
Mostly, they only had sex when they were playing. When they were just themselves, they made love by talking, holding, sharing, and laughing together. Occasionally, like now, though, Angel did want to enter Spike with no games and no playing. He would pull Spike back against his chest, lift Spike's leg over his hip, and slide in with soft movements that he would keep going for hours. He needed this; he needed more sex than Spike did, for he did not get it from anyone else. Spike would have been happy never doing it outside the game; all he wanted was the loving intimacy that no one else seemed willing to give him. But he was happy to let Angel take him like this; he liked to watch his face contorted in pleasure; he liked to hear his usually quiet voice scream his name.
So Spike's activities in England meant nothing to Angel. That was just the game, just sex. But he had told Spike not to wake with Giles, not to shower or bathe with him, and not to stay in the bed with him. That was just for them. That's what they did together on weekend mornings when Spike went to LA. After the games which would break them, numb them, and exhaust them, Angel would fetch the newspapers and coffee, they would shower, and then return to the bed where they would lie for hours, holding, kissing, and talking.
Angel took his time in Spike. He had not had the benefit of multiple orgasms with someone else, as Spike had done. Angel's celibacy always worked to Spike's advantage after the games. He pulled Spike's back to his chest, lifted the slim, supple leg up over his hip, and rubbed around Spike's hole with his finger for a while. 'Ready?'
'Yeah, not sore any more. Don't care anyway, just want you, Angel.'
Angel smiled. It was nice to be wanted for something other than being a hero. He put the tip of his penis to the small opening and started gently pushing. Slick with copious amounts of lotion, he slid in easily.
'Hmm… hold me, too.'
So, Angel put a hand over Spike and started to stroke Spike's balls and around his inner thighs. He felt Spike relax against him, almost seeming to melt into him. He closed his eyes and lost himself to the sensations. His cock was totally stimulated. He could feel the foreskin being pushed down with each gentle thrust and feel it being closed over the tip when he pulled out. Spike's cock felt hard and urgent under his hand; he put a finger up to feel the tip and smiled when he felt icy precum leaking down and soaking under Spike's foreskin. He started to nuzzle into Spike's neck, and felt Spike stretch to his touch, inviting even more intimate joining. Careful to bite lower than his collarbone, Angel slid his three hundred year old fangs into Spike's blood. He stared to drink deeply, and heard Spike groaning in pleasure.
As Spike's blood moved around Angel's body, it started to push him over the edge. He sped up a bit in Spike's ass and started matching that rhythm on Spike's cock. He lifted his mouth from the wound in Spike's neck and said quietly, 'Kiss me as we cum.
Spike twisted his head around, and they entwined their tongues, opening their mouths to each other, pulling away to watch eyes and smiles. They both knew when Angel was ready to orgasm; they both felt his shaft swell and pulse, and as Spike felt a jet of cold cum splash on his walls, he bit gently into Angel's tongue and sucked that, as if he could suck the cum away instead. When Angel was totally spent and empty, he concentrated on Spike. He started rubbing the base of his thumb over Spike's tiny slit; he pushed his nail into it a little, making Spike hiss. Finally, he took Spike's hand and put it on the aching shaft, too, and together they brought him off, his cum cascading back over their entwined fingers, joining them with the flow of potent fluid.
When they were both spent, they lay tangled together. Angel continued to lick and nuzzle the wound in Spike's neck. If he was careful, he could keep it open for hours, just little licks every so often to stop it healing over. It marked Spike badly for days when he did this, but they both liked it. Spike reached over and pulled his new computer towards them again; he lay curled into Angel's strong body, playing with it. Angel watched him lazily.
'Did you mean it?'
'About us, next month, going to England and.…'
'Yeah, maybe we could actually use butter.'
'I can't do it with a human again, you know that.'
'Come off it, Angel, I really don't think having Rupert Giles up your ass is going to give you a moment of true happiness. Unless there is something you're not telling me.…' He gave Angel a cheeky look. 'You're not gay, are you?'
Angel ignored him. He had realised over the last few months that there was one thing he did very well: ignoring Spike when he wanted to.
'You realise the last time I touched Gile,s I was putting a screwdriver through his knee cap.'
'Well, ask him, he might be up for that, too. If you don't want to risk sticking it to 'im… if you think you might find it all a bit too, 'moment of true', then you can just watch me. What do you reckon?'
Spike turned in Angel's arms to see the result of this suggestion. He hardly needed to; he felt Angel's cock swelling and pulsing against his back just at the thought of watching the two of them.
So, Spike looked at Angel and raised his eyebrow seductively; Angel looked back at Spike and found himself unconsciously wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue, the image of watching Spike with Giles lingering seductively in his mind.
They both knew.
New Game. Spike-puts-on-a-sex-show, Angel-pays-to-view.
Spike was a natural exhibitionist; Angel discovered he was an avid voyeur. So, Spike ended up with all Angel's money after all. But then Angel had been given a good show and felt it was money well spent. He'd eked out the notes one at a time, making Spike become more and more inventive. He'd even managed to make him put on and take off his leather jeans a few times.
It was a good game, and they filed it away for future reference. It amused them for the rest of night… until Angel had to leave. Spike never played games when they had to separate. Separation upset him too much.
As Angel was dressing, he sensed Spike's mood plummeting. 'You've got your phone, haven't you? Use it any time you want.'
'Why can't I come with you?'
Angel tried not to sigh at this oft-repeated question.
'She needs you here. Now especially. Repercussions, remember? And you know how complicated my life is, how many humans I have to cope with now. They don't seem to like me most of the time, Spike. They'd make you miserable, and that'd make me miserable, and I'm miserable enough as it is. Sometimes, Spike, there seems to be very little difference between humans and demons in LA. You are safer here. Come on, we've been through this a hundred times. Come next weekend, hey?'
Spike climbed sadly off the bed and wrapped his arms around Angel's neck.
'New game… Spike misses Angel?'
'Yeah, new game, Angel misses Spike.'
They leant their foreheads together for a moment, then Angel climbed up the ladder and left.
The next night, Spike went to the Bronze. He wanted to get drunk. He cursed quietly to himself when he saw the gang there. They acknowledged him, but didn't invite him over. He didn't want to sit with them anyway. He got his computer out and tried to figure out again how to send a rude email to Angel. He wanted to send him the URL for a porn site he'd discovered, one that once you'd opened it, you couldn't close it down… unless you were good with computers, and that was not one of Angel's talents. It amused Spike to think of Angel innocently opening up the email on the shared office computer, and then being totally unable to get rid of the hardcore, gay porn site. Let him talk himself out of that one.
Xander came to the bar to get some drinks. 'What'y'got there, dead boy?'
'A magic fucking orb. What does it look like?'
'Hey, that's really cool. How much did it cost.'
'Dunno. Didn't buy it.'
'You stole it? Spike, you stole a computer? Who from?'
'Shut up, Harris, I didn't steal it.'
'Oh. Well, I could buy one of those soon; I've got a new contract for a week, up state. Building a deck for some rich git. If I can get a crew together.'
Spike looked up from his toy. 'Crew?'
'Yeah, I need about four guys.'
'What, you interested? You don't do labouring, Spike. I need workers not wankers.'
'Well, I guess if I had no one else, you could do the night work… are you seriously interested?'
Spike looked him up and down for a moment. Took in the soft hair, the large innocent eyes, and the soft boyish body. He kept eye contact, gave a small, evil grin to himself and reached into his pocket.
'Dunno, Pet, let me make a phone call first.'