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Reality Check - Chapter 23




They lay as they fell, sprawled every which way, in soaked, rumpled sheets. The scents of drying sperm and blood were paramount, but they were carried on subtle undercurrents of sweat and tears.

Angel wasn’t aware of Spike’s restless dreams of flames and pain; Spike did not wake when Angel’s legs began to pound on the sheets as if he were desperately running across a deserted beach to save the only thing he had loved more than the child who had once been his definition of love.

They woke at the same time many hours later, staring at the other’s familiar face in such unfamiliar circumstances. Angel lifted a finger and ran it down Spike’s cheekbone then he pulled the smaller figure into his arms, twitched up the covers, and they both fell instantly back into an almost pleasure-drugged sleep.

The next time they woke, after almost ten hours of healing, dream-free sleep, they were in the mood for more than a look. A lot more…. They immediately starting kissing as if, somewhere in their sleep, this thought had nagged at them: not enough of his lips, never enough.  The kiss was raw and tender, eager and hesitant, but there was no doubt in it. They eased apart and stared at familiar eyes then returned to lips with no confusion at all about what they now wanted.

Angel’s kisses became almost desperate, as if he were using them to cover something more telling, and eventually, he said in a ragged whisper into Spike’s open, eager mouth, ‘I didn’t mean it: about only wanting to fuck you.’ Then he added hastily, ‘Although I did—want to.’ And even more hastily, ‘Do… want.’ Then despondently, ‘Shit.’

Spike put a finger over Angel’s lips. ‘It’s the past, Luv. We don’t need to dissect what I said to you, what you said to me. We didn’t mean any of it, and it’s over.’

Angel breathed a huge sigh of relief and began to explore Spike’s mouth once more, using his tongue for deep exploration, his lips to examine the pretty surface. Into the kiss, Spike suddenly mumbled, ‘So, tell me why you bought the TV, Pet.’

Angel pulled away. He saw a quickly suppressed glint of amusement and whispered incredulously, ‘You’re gonna make me go over every single thing I said or did, aren’t you?’

‘Oh, yeah. So… TV?’

Angel rolled onto his back. ‘I just wanted you here—close. With me all the time.’ He lifted his hand and stared at it as if remembering a knife and the pain of not being able to say this simple thing.

Spike took the hand in his and began to play with the strong fingers. ‘I thought when you came back to my place…. Why did you? What did you want to happen?’

Angel huffed ruefully. ‘Kinda redundant what I wanted, as you were amusing yourself quite happily without me.’



Spike began to kiss slowly down Angel’s throat, pressing with his teeth just too hard to be human kisses. ‘Tell me what you thought when you saw him there.’

‘You know what I thought.’

‘Yeah, but I wanna hear you say it.’



‘I wanted to kill you both.’

Spike slapped at him then bit harder into his collarbone. ‘The other thing—tell me the other thing you thought.’

Angel laughed around the pain of the bite and said with difficulty, ‘I wanted to tell you how I felt—that I hated you for making me love you.’


Spike smiled and continued his downward progress. He was aiming for a nipple and planned to stay there a while.

Angel hastened Spike’s progress by pushing his head onto his broad chest and moaning softly when the lips were where he wanted them. Spike bit lightly and said into the tiny, quivering bud, ‘Go on.’ Then he lifted his head and said with a grin of pleasure, ‘No… tell me ‘bout the party.’

Angel grunted. ‘How about you tell me about your damn hair.’

Spike sat up with a guilty look. ‘Yeah, well.’

‘Exactly. So?’

‘Well… you liked my hair.’

‘I did.’

‘So it seemed a good way to hurt you.’

Angel smiled a smile of deep satisfaction and cupped his hands over the stubble, stroking it with his fingers, ‘But I like this…. I like this a… lot….’

There was no more interrogation for a while as Spike’s hair had to be examined: what it felt like rubbed against a sensitive cockhead; how it tickled a shaft; how come could spike and peak even its short lengths.

When Angel was done, he lay with the object of his attention on his chest, just stroking gently, skimming his palm over the newly peaked stubble. He was so quiet Spike wondered if something in the perfect ease between them had sparked thoughts of the dream world. It was the one thing they’d not yet discussed, and he was wary of putting their pleasure now to such an extreme test. Thoughts of Angel’s fantasy world did spark another thought, though. He tweaked Angel’s nipple lightly and murmured, ‘Angel…?’

Angel took a deep breath that sounded like pure contentment and grunted that he was listening.

‘I don’t want secrets between us.’

Angel made an amused rumble in his chest. ‘If you think I’m gonna tell you….’

‘We didn’t destroy that damn drug. I—.’

‘I know.’

‘You know?’

‘I know everything that happens in my firm, Childe. I’m not as dumb as I appear to be.’

When Spike didn’t make the expected contradiction to this, being deep in his own thoughts, Angel said, ‘Hey!’ in an aggrieved tone and punched him lightly in the shoulder. That led to more activity that prevented speaking for some time.

Angel was the one to stop the kiss this time. He held a hand between them, wincing when Spike bit it. ‘I never wanted him to destroy it. I only said that to make him mad. Misery needs company.’

‘You were… miserable?’

The genuine wonder and delight in Spike’s tone made Angel laugh, and he said slowly, as if his audience were impaired, ‘Yes – Spike – I – was - miserable. All I wanted was…’ he stopped and frowned deeply ‘this.’ His thoughts began to speed up, tumbling over themselves in their haste to get spoken. ‘Spike, all I wanted was this and…. Is this real? Have we just actually talked about… feelings? Are we…?’

‘Hey! Angel! One step at a time…. ‘S what you said….’

Angel nodded relieved. ‘Yeah. I did. What happened then?’ He grinned, a feral smile that split his face. ‘Oh, I remember.’  He lay over Spike, teasing him over onto his belly. He put a finger down to Spike’s perineum and began to stroke him. ‘Are you… okay?’

Spike lifted his thigh and hissed, ‘I’ve been okay for this for a hundred years.’

Angel made a choked sound of delight and stroked his fingers gently up to Spike’s hole. Spike tensed, and Angel repeated softly, ‘Okay?’

Spike nodded and murmured, ‘Can’t think why I’m sore.’

Angel chuckled and licked his fingers, returning them to fondle the still swollen edges.

‘Tell me what you’re thinking, Angel. I wanna know.’

‘And you know that’s not gonna happen.’


Angel removed his hand and, beginning in the hairline, trailed his fingers down Spike’s spine until he reached the soft indentation once more. Spike’s whole body trembled under the erotic touch. As Angel swirled around and around the tight muscle ring, pushing softly with his thumb occasionally to test resistance, he said in a low voice, ‘I’ve always wanted you, I think. Wanted to possess you somehow—more than I had, which was possessing you like a demon. I wanted you as a man.’ He kissed down Spike’s spine, leaving a trail of saliva then drew a deep breath and blew in a sweeping, graceful line on the glistening skin. He laughed. ‘I guess I wanted to see you react like that.’

Spike put his hand back and began to help Angel stroking and getting him ready. ‘Have you ever done this before?’

Angel put his mouth to the back of Spike’s neck and bit. ‘Stop asking me questions.’

Spike twisted his head around. ‘I wanna know. Have you?’

Angel hesitated. ‘No.’

‘Oh, and that’s gonna convince me!’

‘What does it matter? You know I’ve had women! Most of them the same ones as you!’


‘No! Okay! Jesus. No, I’ve never done it before, and it’s so…. In my head, something telling me I’m a Goddammed pervert. Just what I need. Shit. Demon, pervert….’

Spike rolled back over and took Angel’s head in his hands. ‘I don’t care about the women. But if you’d done this before… with a man. It would…. I’m jealous where you’re concerned.’

Angel looked interested. ‘Jealous…?’ He seemed to be tasting the idea. ‘I thought that was just me about you.’ He grinned and squeezed Spike’s buttock affectionately. ‘I like you being jealous of me….’ He rolled him onto his back once more and levered over him, just rubbing them lightly together. ‘Considering how much I want your ass now, I’m kinda surprised I have never done this before. I’ve had lots of… opportunity.’

Spike grinned. ‘Yeah. Lots of wriggling, crying men, bathed in their own blood….’

If he’d meant to lighten the moment, it was entirely the wrong thing to say. Angel lifted one slim thigh, pitched his cock against the exposed hole, then punched through the resistance. Spike gasped in pain but arched to receive him.

‘Fuck! You’re so tight. Christ, but I love your ass.’

‘I can’t believe I’m letting someone inside me. Bloody hell. Harder. Yeah, like that….’

‘Tell me… what – this – feels – like…. Fuck….’

‘Uh…. ‘S better than feeding.’


‘Yeah. Slow down… I wanna watch.’

Angel dragged some pillows over for him, raising his head. He leant on Spike’s knees opening him wide, and they both looked down and watched the erotic sight of Angel’s angry erection slowly fucking the tight hole.

Angel pulled right out and said huskily, ‘Wanna watch something else?’ Before Spike could reply, he slid back, laying on his belly, pushing his lips greedily to the wet ring, which was stretched and waiting for him.

Then he lifted his eyes, and when he was sure he had Spike’s attention, he let his tongue creep slowly forward, making sure it eased its way with a great deal of flicking and tasting around the soft, pink walls.

Spike arched off the bed with a huge bellow of disbelief. Angel only held on tighter and buried his mouth deep as if he were feeding. He alternated his tongue with fingers, probing higher and harder, loving the panting and wriggling he elicited.

He would have stayed there for hours, licking and nibbling, but Spike’s moans and his cock drove him with mindless need.

He knelt back up and put the weeping head to the wide, flushed hole. Spike flung the pillows away and lifted his legs, wrapping them around Angel’s neck. ‘Bloody do me, Angel. I want you to come inside me—deep.’

‘Oh, God…. Tell me again.’ Angel began to thump into the body he craved.

‘Fuck me.’

‘Yeah. Again.’

‘I want you in my body. I want your come inside me.’

‘Christ. More.’

‘Make me feel it. Soak me from the inside.’

‘Shit! I’m—‘ He hung his head, sweat dripping off his forehead.

Spike arched to every thrust, meeting him. The pain was everywhere and so good he was afraid he would come too soon, and then suddenly, on one thump in and one arch, they found their faces only inches apart.

Angel moaned and leant forward. Spike opened his mouth, and they fell like starving men to food, mumbling around swollen lips, trying to match with tongues what was happening below.

Neither could have sworn who said it first, but suddenly they were repeating it endlessly—I love you, I love you, I love you—and of all the things they were doing, it was the only thing that didn’t seem strange or new. They’d been saying it for so long in so many other ways that finally admitting it was like a release from torture.

Angel only stopped telling Spike how much he loved him when he said raggedly, ‘I’m gonna come.’

Spike stopped long enough to cry, ‘Yeah,’ and shoot a high, long stream of sperm between them that hit Angel’s neck and ran sluggishly down the sweaty skin as he shuddered his sperm just as high and as hard as Spike had wanted. Spike swallowed deeply, and for one moment, Angel thought his sperm had flooded even that far.

This time, Spike locked his legs to prevent Angel pulling out when they’d finished. Soaked in Spike’s sperm, they lay panting, that sound having taken over from all the newfound need for speech but spilling their secrets just as effectively.

It was the first time they’d lain with someone after an orgasm and known exactly what the other was thinking. It was incredibly restful, and Angel actually articulated this by saying wryly, ‘Do I need to say something profound, or can I just go to sleep?’

Spike laughed. ‘Fuck, yeah… that pressure. Can you remember? Should I tell her she was good, or would she hear whore? Should I say how good I felt or ask her how she felt? What a bloody nightmare.’

‘So... how do you feel?’

Spike slapped him, and they fell into a contented sleep, Angel’s still hard cock buried deep in Spike’s abused tissues, and twitching occasionally, giving them both erotic and highly pleasurable dreams.

Angel woke with a jerk to find that Spike was already awake and stroking gently through his hair. With a sigh, Angel rolled off and pulled out, and they both let out a low, ‘Whoa’ at the same time as they separated. Laughing at the coincidence, Angel scratched and said cautiously, ‘Shower?’

Spike looked curious. ‘Why the hesitation?’

‘Kinda…. Yeah, okay, now I feel like a total cunt. It just seemed intimate—ya know?’

Spike quirked up his lip. ‘It is. And… yes.’

They were both stiff and tired and out of their normal, easy bodies, so the water was particularly welcome. It made them laugh that they washed everything but what they really wanted to wash, so with a small grin of wickedness, Spike took over the responsibility of making sure Angel was clean: gently easing back his foreskin and running a soapy finger over the privacy beneath. Almost undone by this, Angel’s hand was shaking when he bent Spike over and probed with soapy fingers into his anus, reaching high around the soft, hot walls of his rectum. It all needed careful rinsing, too, and that seemed best to do with a clean, wet cock.

Fucking slowly in the shower was almost too much pleasure. It made them feel strange, as if all their lives there had been this pleasure hovering on the edges of their consciousness. It made them feel angry that they’d wasted so many opportunities, and that anger drove them to exquisite orgasms, Spike moaning and biting his arm; Angel stretching his neck so far and crying out so loudly that his voice was hoarse for the rest of the day.

With legs shaking slightly, they pulled towels off the rail and went back to the bedroom. The whole world smelt of spilt sperm, and they almost rose once more to the deliciousness of the scent. Almost.

With a rueful laugh, Angel went to the refrigerator and pulled out two bloodbags. He watched as Spike dried off, his expression thoughtful. Eventually, he said softly, ‘About that step at a time….’

‘Go on.’ Spike had known this moment would come. He’d almost been looking forward to it in his masochistic way. Angel would tell him how things stood between them: saving the world first, saving the world second, saving the world end of story.

Angel took a small breath. ‘I want you to move in here.’ He heard denial in the silence that greeted this and added in a strangely tense voice, ‘I meant, please. Please will you move….’

Spike took hold of his jaw, silencing him. ‘I was just surprised…. I thought you were gonna…. Yes. Just yes. But this isn’t the world, as much as I’d like it to be. What about all the rest of it—all the rest of them… downstairs.’

‘One step, then another.’

Spike nodded, and they touched fingers briefly as if sealing some kind of pact. Then Spike glanced up from lowered eyes, his long eyelashes sending shadows onto his cheek. ‘But just so’s you know. If we argue, I’ll be imagining your dick sliding into me.’

Angel swallowed. ‘And that’s gonna dissuade me from the fighting.’

‘Just thought you’d like to know.’

‘Oh, I like….’ He came closer and twitched the towel away, pressing them together. ‘Will I ever get tired of kissing you?’

Only the ping of the microwave made them stop. Angel sighed and went over to it, running fingers distractedly through his hair. ‘I guess I’ve got a new partnership to dissolve today.’

‘She’s gonna be pissed at you.’ Spike went up behind Angel and laid a hand affectionately on the small of his back. ‘You hustle her up here… fuck her….’

Angel repressed a smile. ‘You should have seen how fast I hustled her out, too. I had to damn well catch you up.’ He turned. ‘Don’t ever do that again, Spike. You get that I’m pissed at you for that.’

Spike pushed his tongue cheekily into the side of his mouth. ‘Nah. You lurve me.’

Angel had him pinned against the wall before the words had formed in the air. He shook him. ‘Do you get what I’m saying here?’

Annoyed, Spike tried to push away until he saw the glistening in Angel’s eyes. ‘Hey! Luv! I’m not—.’

‘You were gonna burn up, Spike! Right until the end, as I was running for you, I thought you’d go into the water. I thought: That’s why he’s picked the ocean. But you fucking just stood there! How could you do that to me?’

‘I don’t know! It was just too much! I didn’t want to love you so much any longer!’

Angel reeled back, his eyes wide with shock and pleasure. Then he came back and seized Spike furiously. 

They hugged fiercely, kissing passionately. Angel broke them apart. ‘Never again.’

Spike was tempted to reply, “Then don’t hurt me again!” but didn’t. What was the point? They were demons: hurt was kinda par for the course.

They dressed, the irony not lost on Spike that he was putting on the clothes he’d come to the apartment to retrieve the previous night and in that other life when Angel didn’t love him. He could not see it as anything other than another life. Now was so different to then. Now, Angel reminded him of the charismatic demon that had emerged in the dreamtime. But he was real, and that made all the difference.

Their one step at a time policy seemed good until they actually rode down in the elevator. The alteration from the men they could be upstairs alone to the men they needed to be under the public scrutiny of the employees of Wolfram and Hart seemed almost too great to attempt. At the very last minute, before the elevator came to a rest, Spike cupped a hand around a cigarette and bent his head to light it.


Spike glanced over at Angel, puzzled by the tone.

Angel was staring not at the cigarette or the lighter, but at Spike’s lips, pursed to take the slim column between them.

Angel swallowed deeply. ‘I’ve never told you but… that thing you do… with the cigarette and the lips….’ He slammed his hand onto the emergency stop button, and for the first time, it did exactly what both of them wanted: it stopped them dead.

Angel removed the cigarette from Spike’s fingers and took its place on the soft lips with his tongue. As if wetting a roll-up, he ran it warm and slick over Spike’s bottom lip.

The kiss ruined them for the office, kisses never remaining kisses for long: hands wandering, bodies grinding together, juices flowing and emotions spilling over, wetting them with lust, desire and need.

Fumbling, Angel pushed the up button, and they rose once more to the apartment. They weren’t subtle. They fell out onto the floor of the living room and didn’t even bother to remove their clothes. Angel just arranged access to what he wanted by yanking Spike’s jeans half-mast and then unzipping his own pants.

In the bright light from the windows, they marvelled at their own bodies: Spike’s hard pale backside, fondled and spread by Angel’s powerful hands; Angel’s red-rawness, oozing proof of his desires. Best of all though was watching where they joined, watching the heavy roll of bone-hard flesh burrowing into the paleness that spread, welcoming it. 

Spike sat on the very edge of the couch, his legs drawn up and wide. Angel leant over him, hands either side of the shorn head, dipping his whole body down to work their joined places together, each able to give the other so much pleasure. His tight hardness enabled him to pull right out and re-enter each time, a movement that constantly stretched and worked Spike’s muscles, causing them to spasm, the quivering glistening only enticing Angel more. Each time he pulled out, a steady pulse of pre-come dripped into the spread pinkness, winking like a teardrop before it trickled further down Spike’s hot flesh.

Toward the end, Angel stopped plunging deeply into the long, hot tunnels of Spike’s willing flesh. He held himself against the open walls, mushing his cockhead around in the slickness, fisting his bone-hard shaft. Spike wrapped his legs around Angel’s backside, trying to pull him back in, his pleasure spot throbbing and needing to feel the bone rubbing it erotically to fulfilment. Angel resisted the call to re-enter and with a huge shudder of release, spilled long squirts of milky fluid into the centre of Spike’s pink well. It filled the small indentation, a rippling pool of thick juice. With a sigh of enormous satisfaction, Angel then dove his still rigid cock into the pool, through the slurpy thickness and on, into the dreamland. He carried his come on his shaft, worked it into the soft walls, caressed it over Spike’s pleasure and thrust it deep in his body. All was spermy and sticky and slick. Their mouths wet with the anticipation of tasting. Angel grabbed Spike’s cock and dragged it down, squeezing it with his balls, then crushing it all down to rub against his driving cock. It was hard to hold Spike down; he thrashed like a man drowning: orgasm as necessary as air.

Finally, Angel let Spike have release. He took the long erection in his hand with the same grip he used on other, more conventional weapons and brought him off with hard, remorseless fisting that seemed to break some resistance within the writhing body. When the sperm came, it flooded, an impossible amount propelled up onto Angel’s shirt and neck.

Even then, Angel did not withdraw. He captured Spike’s release, wetting his hand, roughly grinding the salty fluid with his around Spike’s spread thighs. Panting, sweat dripping, he reached a second orgasm, and this one he buried deep against the quivering walls of Spike’s rectum. Spike felt it as his, so powerfully did the thick cock throb, spilling its urgent load.


Continue to chapter 24