Who Can I Turn To? - 10
Spike grinned and turned back to sit squarely in his seat. He put his hand on Angel's and would not let Angel pull away, then turned and whispered in his ear. 'I'll stay; I'll do all the poof crap you want, but when you get old, I'm buggering off.'
Angel began to laugh. He tried to stifle it behind his hand. Wesley looked furiously at him; Cordelia tried to tune him out. Spike only continued to watch the play with newfound interest.
Just when Angel managed to control himself, Spike leant over and whispered again, 'If I love you enough and I manage to get rid of that bloody soul of yours, bags I inherit the humans.'
It was all Angel could take. Ignoring the furious looks from people behind him, he stood up, still gripping Spike's hand and dragged him past the people in the row. They half-ran to the exit. Angel didn't bother with the car this time; he dragged Spike into an alley and shoved him hard against a wall.
He blinked slowly and put his hands to Spike's shoulders, holding him against the brickwork. He laid his elbows on, too. When this was not rejected, he moved his hips forward and their bodies were joined. When he sensed only soft, welcoming flesh, he shifted his feet and his legs ran down Spike's legs. Finally, the very last touch, he put his lips to Spike's. They were both glad the wall supported them, for their legs could not have.
Spike looked at Angel and thought about love. He looked at Angel and desperately tried to conjure love. He began to shake; from head to foot, his body began to shake. He was shivering as if with the cold, and his mouth chattered in the kiss. Angel drew away slightly, but Spike clung to him desperately and the shivering only increased.
'What's wrong, little one?'
Spike buried his face into Angel's shoulder. 'If I let go now, Angel - if I let these feelings for you out - I'll fall as far as there is to go, and there'll be no coming back. Don't get tired of me again, will you?'
Angel pressed him harder to his shoulder, moved him up slightly and tipped his neck back. 'Drink deeply childe, I give you my blood as a sign of my faith.' He punctured his own throat with one long demon nail.
Spike looked deeply into the demon's eyes, hissed and tried to pull away, his soul churning in confusion, but Angel forced Spike to take him. He meshed his face into the spurting blood. He forced him on like a reluctant baby to the nipple, pinching the wound into his mouth, tipping the pale neck back, stroking the contracting throat... and the blood splattered them both as they struggled for dominance.
Spike's legs gave way. Angel fell with him to the ground, and still, he forced him to drink. Finally, Spike twisted his head away with a quiet 'Please, no more. Too empty before... I'll be sick.'
Angel stopped the force feeding and slipped his coat off, putting it over Spike's shoulders. They sat caked in blood amidst the squalor until Spike's shivering stopped. Angel rubbed over his childe's hair, making small, comforting circles on the skull. He pressed his lips to his forehead and kissed lightly, a kiss both of benediction and of possession.
Spike pulled away and propped himself back against the wall. He studied his hand thoughtfully. It was still shaking, and that was a new sensation to him. 'What's happening to me, Angel?'
Angel sighed deeply, slipped back into his human features and leant back too. 'You're adjusting, Spike, far more quickly than I did.'
'I'm not. I'm drowning.'
'No, you're doing fine, trust me.'
Spike turned to face him. 'I've been... puttin' on a good act, ya know? Even in there... even pissin' you around, but the truth? I don't know how to cope with this soul, Angel. I don't know who I am anymore. I'm scared; I'm confused, but... I do know I want you. Whatever happens I need you, and I'm afraid I'm gonna lose you again.'
'Listen, Angel. I'm not like you. I don't feel guilty all the time... sometimes, yeah, I feel like shit... but I did before like - with me chip. What's new? I don't know. So, I won't be like you, and I'm afraid I'll come back one day, an' I'll have done something bad, and you'll look at me like you did in China when I....'
'You ate a Slayer, Spike, and fucked Drusilla in her blood. You planning on repeating that performance?'
Spike genuinely looked shocked, then shocked at himself for finding that abhorrent. ''S what I went to Africa for, Angel. I went to get rid of the chip, so I could fuck and eat Buffy. Oh God... why can't I want to do that anymore?'
'So, what kind of bad were you thinking of then?'
'I'll drink too much and mess up like I always do, Angel. Soul's not going make me care about the homeless, and I'm not gonna save kittens or orphans. I wanna fuck in alleys, Angel; I wanna fuck in blood and feel pain. Does that make me bad? I don't know anymore what I'm supposed to want. I want people to fear me; I want to fear no one. Is that what my soul is supposed to think? Like I said in England, luv, I wasn't sure I could do all that - I was just scared to admit I still wanted to, but fucking with you, shit, the pleasure of havin' you, mate. I want it all again, and I want it to be like it was before. You want love. I want love - but a different kind of love; I want it ... fuck it! I want it like a vampire. I just want to piss around and enjoy meself and that makes me feel like I'll be damned.'
'When you say piss, I take it that's not literal? No, I thought not. So is that another one of your English expressions for....'
'No, Angel. It's not.' Spike hesitated but tried out the new concept to see how it sounded spoken aloud. 'I can't fuck anyone else when all I can think about is you and, yeah, in yer soddin' leather and yer buns to die for.'
Angel was rather silenced by this odd remark, not having its provenance, but he liked its intent, even if the content was confusing. Deep in thought about Spike's revelation, however, he entirely missed the confusion and slightly shifty looks that edged around the mobile features of the blond vampire.
Angel took a deep, unnecessary breath. 'So, this is it, is it? I risk losing my soul. You risk losing me. But we try it nevertheless?'
Spike turned and looked at him, thoughtfully. 'Huh. Like real people, then, no certainties.'
Angel grinned. 'Well, other than the certainty that we can fuck for a lot longer and harder than real people.' He laughed at Spike's face. 'Oh, and there's something I need to do... something about proving love isn't boring?' He grinned and put his hand in Spike's lap.
Spike hissed as Angel stroked his hardness through the leather. He watched, mesmerised, as Angel pulled the zip down slowly and let him out. He let his head fall back and just let Angel suck him off. He swirled his finger around in the blood traces still in his mouth as Angel's strong sucks pulled the orgasm out of him. He came incredibly swiftly and jerked his cold sperm into Angel's mouth. Angel swallowed at first then came up to Spike's mouth and, as he pushed his tongue in for entry, he allowed the sperm to dribble into Spike's mouth. Spike pulled away, his eyes wide with an amazed look. Angel waited patiently, and when Spike's mouth came back to his, he opened his lips wide, and they poured their passion with the fluids between them.
Spike moaned as if he were in pain; Angel only pulled him closer; he straddled his childe's lap, sitting on the naked penis. He pushed Spike's hand down into his lap so he could feel arousal, and when Angel felt Spike nod at the hardness, said with utter complacency, 'Stand up, and spread yourself, now. You want to fuck in an alley, like a vampire? Good, because I'm a vampire, and I need a fuck.'
He picked Spike up as if he weighed nothing. He turned the unresisting body around and cupped his ass in both his hands as if weighing fruit. 'Hmm, just right.'
Spike tried to pull away, 'Poof, let me go.'
'Far from it, Spike.' Angel slid one hand down inside Spike's jeans and felt the cool, hard globes. With the other hand, he reached around and covered the soft, naked cock, just holding it gently in his palm. Spike hissed and pushed back a little against Angel, urging him on.
'See, Spike? Love doesn't mean fucking like a missionary with the lights out. I can still do all the things you want to do: love just makes me free.'
Spike began to turn his head from side to side, and Angel wasn't sure whether this was a rejection of his words, or intense stimulation from the two hands, squeezing him between them.
'Thought I wasn't still Angelus, didn't you? All Angelus' needs, all his weaknesses are here - in this body and this mind. Wanna know what my weakness is, Spike?'
He tugged Spike's leather jeans just far enough down to expose the pale backside he'd been feeling up. He parted it like a kid delving into a box to find the present, eager and insistent until the small entrance he sought was exposed to the warm night air. He put one forearm across the back of Spike's neck to hold him firmly in place and began to free himself from the confines of his jeans.
As he rubbed the tip of his erection over the smooth skin in front of him, Angel continued his quiet, intense recitation. 'You, Spike - you're my weakness: always have been, always will be.'
He waited until he felt the body in front of him thrusting back before he said raggedly, 'What did you think, Spike? Did you think I'd be disgusted by your needs?'
He thrust in, embedded until he felt his wiry curls brushing against Spike's skin. 'Oh, Spike, I revel in you; I always have, and love lets me tell you.'
Soft strokes - just to get started and find a rhythm - then hard, violent pounding that crushed Spike into the wall and imprinted small crystals of the stone in his cheeks. 'You still don't get it, do you? When you love someone, you can trust them with your weaknesses. Don't you remember how it was with Drusilla? Was there anything you couldn't tell her? Anything you needed to keep hidden? Bet there was with Buffy, hey, Spike… remember, I've been there. I worked her up to love me, and I adored her, but when I got there? I couldn't tell her anything about this.' He illustrated the final word by finding Spike's prostate and working just off to one side of it. Spike moaned, and Angel laughed quietly. 'That's right, Spike; she wouldn't have understood you, would she? Seen the Big Bad needing this? What about me then? I wanna be there where you are, too; I want you to fuck me.…' He began to trail off as his orgasm began to build and snatch his words from his brain before they reached his mouth. 'I - want - you - to - ahh.…'
He braced both hands on the wall over Spike's head and just jerked from the waist, his precum making the taking smooth, cool, and sweet. 'I - need - oh, God.…'
'Spike.…' He pressed his face into Spike's hair, and that was all he could manage to say, an intense, staccato recitation of his childe's name. He felt hands grasping his wrists, and as he came in a rush of cold that made his belly tingle and his balls contract, he heard Spike's matching, soft cry. 'Angel.…'
Spike just stood and let Angel get off, deep inside him. He could have worked himself and joined in a mutual orgasm, but he wanted to feel this. This was… unexpected. He had not expected this from Angel, and it was beyond his capacity to analyse what he felt about the experience. He just let it happen and told himself he'd think about it later.
Finally, Angel pulled out and hitched Spike's jeans up for him and leaned around, doing them up. He stood back and put him self away with a small grunt of contentment, then chuckled and lowered Spike's arms for him, rubbing his face lightly into the blond hair. He gave Spike a small pat on his backside. 'Thanks for that; nothing like a sweet ass when you need a fuck, is there?' He took a small pinch of Spike's sleeve and turned him around slowly, patting him down and checking him over. 'You'll pass muster. How do I look?'
Spike couldn't find the words, but he nodded and gave a small shrug, and this seemed to satisfy Angel. He took another small hold on the sleeve and pulled Spike after him back toward the theatre.
'No, I can't.' Spike hung back.
Angel looked at his face and then nodded. 'We'll wait in the car for them, come on.'
Spike was strangely quiet as they waited for the humans. Angel drummed his fingers on the back of Spike's seat; he fiddled with the switches, adjusting them where no adjustment was necessary. Finally, he said neutrally, 'I've blown it, haven't I?'
Spike turned, only half listening, 'Hmm?'
Angel turned his face a little to look at him. 'I've just spun that kaleidoscope again for you, turned your world into small pieces that make no sense. You wanted it to stop spinning and make a pattern, but I've shattered it all for you. I wanted to show you how pretty the pattern could be, Spike; that's all I meant.'
'Leave them to find a taxi, Angel.'
'A cab - let them get a cab. I want you home, now.'
Spike looked at him directly, and Angel felt a small chill of anticipation make him swell once more at something in that look. 'I want to spin it for you too, Angel. You were… incredible. NO… let me say this, I may never have the balls to say this again… you were incredible back there, do you know that? You came back to the dark side for me, and it didn't change you… just part of your complex bloody pattern. Well, I can do that as well… or I think I can. Let me try? Let me make love to you Angel?' He turned back and resolutely faced to the front and refused any further discussion.
Angel paused with his hands on the wheel, seemed in some sort of internal debate then, without speaking further, put the car in drive and swung out into the street.
They got back and went straight to the stairs, not bothering with lights, but suddenly Angel turned back towards the office. 'Note for Wesley.'
Spike nodded and waited for him, then changed his mind and went up to Angel's room on his own.
He sat on the end of Angel's bed and put his head down between his knees for a moment.
There was nothing. Where his soul should be… where the love should be… there was nothing. He felt exactly the same about Angel as he had for a hundred years. Angel was so good to fuck; Spike adored his body; he wanted his body; he wanted Angel; but he didn't love him - not the way Angel had shown him love tonight. So where did that leave him now?
Angel came into the room, and Spike fell back on instinct and habit.
He'd undressed Angel a thousand times, so he undressed him once more.
He'd pushed Angel onto a thousand beds, so he pushed him onto one more.
He'd kissed Angel a thousand times, one more kiss, two more kisses, what did it matter how many more - there would be still be more to come.
He'd lifted Angel's leg and worked his hole before, so he did it again.
He'd pushed into Angel on spit before, so he spat on his fingers, and the spit lubricated his entry.
He'd brought Angel to orgasm so many times before, what was one more time? It was all good; he'd felt nothing like this body around him, encasing him, with anyone else; Angel was the best… but Spike was still cold. He made Angel come, and he heard the right noises; he came himself and made the same sounds. It was cool around his cock, bathing in his own cum. It was cool in the room, and he felt calm and in control. He pulled out as he'd pulled out a thousand, or was it a million times before… and what did it matter? He'd pull out again and everything just went on and on and nothing ever changed for him, although it was changing all the time.
He'd lain down beside Angel an eternity of times before, but he'd never wished to die before as his back touched the cool sheets. That was new.
He turned from Angel and curled up, willing himself to sleep, wishing he could will himself to nothingness and to a place where he would not need to wake.
He felt Angel lying motionless on his back and wondered what he was thinking. He wondered what it felt like to love someone enough to let them know your weaknesses. Angel was wrong; he'd never loved Drusilla that much. What would that be like? How did it feel to be laid bare - to be open with someone?
He fell into a light, troubled sleep, missing Angel's voice but missing Angel holding him more. He didn't feel like making a lair, didn't want to entangle: he wanted to be left alone, to be as physically separate from Angel as he was emotionally.
When he woke, soft beams of early morning light were streaming in through tiny chinks in the shutters. He watched a dust mote circle lazily in the hazy illumination. He felt warm, and the bed was comfortable… but empty. He turned over; Angel's side was empty. He got up and looked into his room, then padded towards the bathroom. Angel was leaning over the sink, his back half turned to Spike. Spike stepped back to watch him from the edge of the doorway. Angel gripped the edges of the sink with an intensity that threatened to send small cracks through the porcelain. He was staring into the mirror, his face blank. Spike made to turn away, then stilled in his tracks as Angel slipped into game face. He still stared into the mirror that would never give him any feedback on this change. He changed back and continued to stare into the emptiness. Spike saw tears run from Angel's eyes. Angel made no attempt to wipe them away, but slowly hung his head down as if a great weight were bearing down on him.
Spike saw himself cross the space between them and lift that weight from Angel.
It was as simple as that.
He stared at this beautiful man and wanted to shoulder his burden. He felt a small, hysterical laugh bubble up, and he hiccupped and turned away, flattening himself against the wall. Angel came out of the bathroom, but he did not look at Spike. He started to get dressed but did not seem to be animated enough to find anything to wear, so sat heavily back on the end of the bed. Spike couldn't stop laughing: tears streamed down his face, and he tried to wipe them away. He ran the mental picture through his head again of reaching over to Angel and only laughed more. Laughter turned seamlessly to harsh sobbing; he felt his knees weaken, and he fell to the ground.
Angel finally looked at him, but his face was closed off and blank. Spike put a hand to his chest as if his heart hurt him, as if his lungs were painful, as if his.… He took his hand away and looked at it; he hit his chest and winced with the pain of the blow. Angel came closer and hesitated before kneeling in front him. Spike looked up and tried to speak but uncontrollable, painful sobbing rent him in two and speech was lost in the tearing. He put his forehead to the floor, wrapping his head up as if someone were screaming and he didn't want to hear it. When he heard Angel speak but couldn't make out the words, he realised it was his own screams and screamed some more at the terror in his …
… Spike lifted his head and stopped screaming. He gripped Angel's face as if trying to rip the features off. 'I've fallen, Angel; I've fallen.'
Angel pulled him into a tight embrace. He wrapped strong arms around him; he twisted him up in his legs; he enveloped him and tried to press some of his strength into Spike to help him. Spike began to talk - a wild stream of consciousness that made no sense in the individual words but made complete sense to Angel in its intent. Eventually, Spike calmed, and his words slowed to individual thoughts as he tried to tell Angel about the falling and about the reaching out… but still he couldn't articulate what he wanted to say.
He fell silent, hoping the silence would say it more effectively for him.
When this was still not enough, he twisted in Angel's arms and took his face in his hands once more - this time in an exquisitely gentle hold. He rained light kisses all over him; closing his eyes with kisses to the eyelids; making him smile with kisses to his ears and nose; kissing down his cheeks on the trail of his dried tears; finally, reaching his mouth and seeking entry with more soft kisses. Angel began to respond, but Spike shook his head slightly and squeezed him into his shoulder until he stilled. When Angel was quiet, he started again, this time his kisses more urgent and more far reaching. He pushed Angel onto his back and kissed down his neck, nuzzling into the place where he had fed that evening. Angel groaned and tilted his head back, stretching his arms over his head. Spike lay on Angel and held his wrists gently. He kissed around Angel's chin and over his jaw line, coming back to the hollows in his throat.
There was nothing to see - it was just a small concave area on Angel's throat, but Spike knew it was the right spot. He placed his mouth to this small hollow, took the deepest breath he had ever taken, alive or dead, and said disbelievingly, 'I love you.'
It seemed an age before Angel responded, but Spike reasoned that time had slowed down, so intensely did he feel this moment. Angel pulled Spike to his lips and opened his mouth, and Spike knew what he wanted, so he said it again, 'I love you.' Angel pressed his open mouth to Spike as if capturing the words and taking them inside. Spike said it again, and then repeated it as he pushed the words in deeply with his tongue. He felt a cool trail wetting his cheeks and put his hand up, but couldn't separate his tears from Angel's, so he licked Angel's face and said it again.
Spike laughed. He tilted his head back and laughed as he said it over and over, and each time he said it, it was like the first time. It was still as shocking - but there was no disbelief.
Spike looked at Angel, and kissed him once more. He pulled him to his feet and pulled all the covers off the bed, making a clean, new space for them
He pushed Angel onto his back: he'd never done that while telling him he loved him. Angel seemed to fall in slow motion, and Spike laughed again at the sense of wonder that washed over him. He was even seeing differently. He told Angel again - just in case he hadn't understood all the other times.
He had a new canvas to work on. He had someone underneath him he loved. He couldn't work out where to start; he wanted it all, and he didn't want to touch it in case he ruined it. Angel was so perfect, so delicate. He looked wonderingly at the skin and ran his hands over the virgin territory. Where was he supposed to start? How could he touch this man he didn't deserve? As if Angel felt his hesitation, he pulled Spike down until they were lying side-by-side. He ran a hand down Spike's flank, and then encouraged him to do the same. Spike followed the lead in a bewildered daze but suddenly blurted out once more that he loved Angel - just in case he had only dreamt he said it before. Angel smiled and leant slowly forward for a kiss. Spike saw the slow advancement. He waited for it, not moving to meet it, and just before the lips reached him, murmured once more that this was love. They kissed, smiling, and pulled away still smiling at the shared understanding.
Spike sat up on Angel's belly. He bounced slightly, making Angel wince then told him he loved him. Angel laughed - a strong, confident laugh. He was watching Spike come alive in front of him, forming his own complex pattern from the infinite variety of colours available to him. Spike raised an eyebrow at the laugh and leant in, taking Angel's mouth in a far more passionate kiss. He exhausted Angel with the intensity of his love and then sat back, looking pleased. He opened his mouth, and Angel waited desperately for the declaration of love once more, but Spike varied the theme slightly, and Angel hissed as a sliver of anticipation stabbed into his groin. 'Let me love you, Angel.'
Angel nodded, and Spike leant down and pressed his eyes gently closed. Angel felt Spike get off the bed and heard him lock the door. He went into his own room, and after a few moments, soft rock music drifted out. Angel heard rummaging and wondered what Spike was looking for, until he felt a cool liquid being poured over his chest and belly. Spike climbed back on and rocked gently on the lotion then stretched back and poured some over Angel's groin, rubbing it into the tight, wiry curls.
Angel opened his eyes, looked at Spike and gave a small grin. 'This'll be interesting.'
Spike leant down and kissed him to silence again. 'No pain, Angel. I don't wanna hurt you.'
Angel tried not to smile too much at this, and once more, let Spike find his own path. He didn't think this phase would last too long, but it would be fun while it did.
As if sensing that Angel wasn't taking him seriously enough, Spike began to bite down slightly on his lip and hissed between the clenched teeth, 'Don't want to - could. Remember, Angel, you said: love lets you do what the friggin' hell you feel like. Don't push me.'
Angel laughed at the Spike-esque distortion of his words and rolled them over, the cool slickness of their skin making the tumbling erotically sensual. He sat up on Spike and rubbed his hands over his chest, raised an eyebrow and said with mock solemnity, 'Where is it then?'
Spike laughed. 'Knowing me? In my dick: a dick-based soul.'
'Hmm. What about here?'
Angel swooped down onto Spike ribs and bit into them. Spike howled at the tickling sensation and tried to buck Angel off. He only succeeded in bringing Angel's ass in contact with his rock-hard penis. They both stilled and groaned; Angel started slow, rocking movements. Suddenly, Spike rolled them again and whispered into Angel's shoulder, 'Let me make love to you now.'
Angel stretched languidly on the bed, relaxing to the words and their soft intent. Spike lifted one of Angel's thighs and eased lotion all down the tight, smooth skin, around the raised cheek and over the small entrance. He coated himself as well, but before he entered, he pushed a finger in and prepared Angel, making him writhe with pleasure and stretch to the deeply implanted digit.
'Touch me, Spike.' Spike rubbed over Angel's prostate gland, gently, just to tempt it but not cause too much intense stimulation. Angel moaned his pleasure and drew up his other thigh to increase the depth of Spike's reach. Suddenly, Angel gasped. Spike had taken Angel's entire penis in his mouth and was allowing the soft head to rub on his throat. The two sensations were beginning to bring Angel off, and Spike felt the twitching for release in his mouth. He pulled off and pulled out, and Angel cried out in harsh disappointment.
'I know you so well, Angel. I know what hurts you… how you like the pain; I know how to make you cum savagely and fast and long and slow, but I don't know you at all, do I?'
Spike ran his hands over Angel skin, and once more the look of wonder washed over him. 'What gives you pleasure, Angel? Where do you like to be touched? Here?' He bent down and took Angel's ear lightly in his teeth, rubbing into the hard bone just behind with one finger and nibbling on the soft lobe. Angel looked pleased, but not especially stimulated. Spike made a small, interested sound and moved on. He massaged Angel's temples with a thumb and scratched his fingers into Angel's scalp. Again, a pleased moan issued forth, but nothing that was going to set the world on fire. Spike rolled Angel over and looked for a long time at the lean, strong back. He put a finger into the small of Angel's back and dragged it right up the spine until he flared it out over his shoulder blades. Angel almost took off the bed with pleasure. He moaned deeply, 'Do it again.' So Spike did; he ran his thumbs up the same path then rained his fingers all over the knobbed discs of Angel's spine. Angel began to rub frantically into the sheet and clench and unclench his fists into the material. Spike grinned and repeated the exercise - this time with his tongue. Angel scrambled away, laughing. 'Too much, don't; I'll cum, and I don't want to yet.'
Spike merely twitched an eyebrow at him and crawled after him, pinning him down onto his belly once more. He straddled Angel's backside then, with a laugh of glee, suddenly twisted around and sat on Angel's back, keeping up the erotic stimulation with his own hard cheeks. He put his hands onto Angel's ass, teased him for a while then said with a slight smirk. 'Don't need to test this out; I know your whole ass is erogenous for you, ain't it, Angel?'
He picked one of Angel's feet up and played with his toes, twisting around every so often to see the result of his efforts. When he saw no particular pleasure on Angel's face he trickled his fingers up to the inside of his knees then up the thighs to the hollows of Angel's hips. He laughed and turned around again, resting his hands lightly on Angel's back. He'd found the best place; nothing else seemed to do it for Angel. He licked up Angel's spine once more, giggling at the moaning he drew forth.
'Ya know, this is real handy like, Angel, your erogenous zone being right here, cus, you know what I can do now.…' He pushed his steel-hard erection into Angel as he trickled his nails over Angel's back for him. Angel lifted off the bed once more as if by levitation. His whole body shivered to the sensations, his balls screaming with the need to come.
Spike began a slow, deep penetration, holding Angel's ass apart, staring intently at where his cock disappeared inside the hard cheeks. He couldn't suppress a groan at the sight but then had to close his eyes to enjoy the feelings in his cock more… but after a few minutes, he paused. He stopped thrusting. He opened his eyes. This wasn't what he wanted: he knew exactly what he wanted. He pulled out, ignoring Angel's furious cries and turned his lover over, climbing onto one thigh, lifting the other. He leant closer to Angel. 'I need to see your face. I only want to do it like this now.'
Angel twitched his lips at Spike's earnestness and gave this newfound belief all of a week. Pulling Spike down for a kiss to indicate his ascent and hide his amused smile, he murmured, 'Good, I love to watch you.'
Spike felt Angel's voice stabbing into his groin, swelling him more, making him so desperate he wished he could explode in a hot lava of cum over the supine body. He pushed back in, and they both enjoyed the increased hardness of his cock. Spike found his rhythm and locked his gaze on Angel, refusing to even blink in case he missed one fraction of a moment of Angel's orgasm. Angel began to relax to his building release when Spike suddenly pulled out again and dived off the bed.
'Wait. 'S still not right yet.' He disappeared into his own room, and Angel laughed, wondering if he'd have been better sticking to fucking. He worked himself to keep the moment going as he heard Spike changing the tracks on the player. Suddenly, a soft piano solo crept into the room, a single voice intoning a smooth rock ballad. Spike crawled back on the bed. He nuzzled into Angel's neck and softly echoed the words of the song, pushing back into Angel's rectum to the beat of the music.
Angel chuckled at Spike, and held him back to look at him. 'Not your sort of music, Spike?'
Spike grinned, knowing he'd been sussed, and bluffed. 'Yeah, well, I usually skip these - too wussy.'
''Uh huh. Know the words though?'
'Shut up, Angel. It always made me think of you this track and, well.… ' The rhythm of his thrusting stopped his words for a while. He watched Angel intently, every blink, every twitch of pleasure registered and remembered to be improved upon and added to next time. Gradually, when he knew their orgasms were near, he began to softly sing the words of the music again, 'Can you feel the love tonight? It is where we are….'
Angel arched back on the bed and grabbed Spike's shoulders, digging his fingers in painfully, 'Yes.…' He came, hard and fast onto his belly, Spike holding him and directing the flow.
'… When the heart of this star-crossed voyager beats in time with yours … can you feel the love tonight? It is where we are… it's enough for this restless warrior, just to be with you….' Spike stopped, his words cut off by the intensity of his shuddering orgasm, but the music continued as they joined their bodies in intense, physical intimacy. Spike put his head down to his chest, utterly unable to watch Angel any more, overwhelmed by the force of his feelings - still so new and strange. He wanted this orgasm to last forever, this first one implanted into Angel's body with love… but it couldn't. It dried up, and he fell hard onto Angel, dropping like a felled tree and lying still for some time.
It was Angel's quiet chuckling that roused him. He looked up and squinted at the vampire beneath him. 'What's so bloody funny?'
'Hearts beating together… that the part that made you think of me, is it?'
Spike grinned. 'Yeah, restless warrior, you got it in one… but you know… it's kinda true now ain't it?' He saw Angel's bemused face and tried again. 'Well, like… ya know… we're the only two souled creatures without heartbeats, ain't we? Just us, luv, in all this world - so we kinda do beat together.'
On this final thought, Spike seemed to exhaust his capacity to analyse what had happened to him. He only chuckled to himself and began to lick at the spilt cum on Angel's chest. Angel smiled secretly into Spike's hair and only hugged him a little tighter.
Wesley and Cordelia were both late in the following morning. They had a feeling that their services would neither be needed nor noticed. Wesley wandered into the office and did a little work, then pottered into the kitchen for his usual mid-morning tea. He saw the note propped up against the kettle and picked it up. Angel had just written 'Thanks' in his familiar, elegant script. Wesley held the note close for a moment, and felt absurd tears prick at his eyes. He handed the note mutely to Cordelia as he passed her some coffee. She grinned and flicked it triumphantly with a nail. 'Hah!'
They both glanced simultaneously up the stairs then grinned at their own prurience. 'God, what I wouldn't give to be a fly on that wall.'
'Cordelia! You actually said that out loud!'
'Well, duh, why not? We're both thinking it.'
'I most certainly am not.' He desperately tried not to turn his eyes towards Angel's bedroom again, but the thought of Angel's body crept into his mind with no conscious volition. Finally, he admitted defeat and joined Cordelia in glancing up the stairs with covetous looks.
They didn't have too long to wait. The vampires appeared just before lunchtime. Angel came down first; Spike sauntered down a few minutes later. They both looked absurdly pleased with themselves and almost immediately went into the kitchen together to feed. They were in there an inordinately long time, and the humans heard a strange amount of laughter for two vampires that were supposed to be just drinking blood.
Wesley frowned slightly at Cordelia and passed her a small note; she read it and raised one eyebrow in surprise, but nodded her agreement. She stood up, put her hands on her hips and shouted, 'Brian!'
Spike came out a few moments later - rumpled and tucking his shirt back into his jeans. 'Whatcha want, bint?'
'I'm thinking I know a vampire who's moving out of my apartment?'
'You owe me.'
'Yeah. Guess. 'K. Let me… err… clear it with the boss first though.' He gave her a cheeky look and went back into the kitchen. The boss must have needed the request in writing, for they didn't emerge for another half hour. Finally, they both came out, didn't catch each other's eyes, and Spike peeled off to follow Cordelia to her car. She looked pointedly at Wesley, and he followed Angel into the office, shutting the door behind him.
Angel sat down then got back up again - the restlessness and endless energy he rarely allowed to dominate him, overwhelming him when he thought of Spike: Spike his, anytime he wanted him, loving him, needing him, two hearts not beating together. He began to pace, saw Wesley's face, and made a huge effort to sit still and listen to him.
'I gather things have improved since Cordelia took charge of your affairs?'
'You were right, Wes; I should have trusted her and told her.'
'Hmm. Well, water under the bridge. There's another matter I need to discuss with you.'
'My soul… or absence of it.'
'Ah. Precisely. I fear you are too happy, Angel; it's a terrible thing to say, but it's true, nevertheless.'
'I know. I've been thinking about that all night - as I've been … happy.'
Angel picked up his paper knife and began to tap it thoughtlessly against the desk as he spoke. 'Spike says I've got Willow's version of a curse now - something to make everything as fluffy and happy-ever-after as possible.'
'Well, he has a point - up to a point, that is. It's not a theory I'd like to test my life on.'
'No. Nor I. I have a better.'
'I was thinking….' Angel looked up to see how his words had been greeted so far, saw he had a long way to go convincing Wesley, and continued. 'Thinking that… the soul was given to me to punish me.'
'What if it doesn't? What if I want it more than anything - want the guilt, want the pain because they bring me….'
'Exactly. I have him now precisely because of my soul.'
'Uh huh. Not your best reasoning, I'm afraid, Angel.'
Angel suddenly grinned. 'But it kept me from being too happy, puzzling that out last night as Spike was thr…'
'… Angel! Remember! A lot of alcohol, please, before I have to hear any details.'
Angel laughed quietly. 'So, I'm okay, Wesley. I'm not about to turn; I'm not so deliriously happy that I could ever forget the misery that I caused - every time I look at Spike, I see what we did together - just more reminders.'
'So, he's found his path, has he? Come to terms with his soul?'
'Not really. He thinks he has. He's fallen in love and thinks that's it. He has no idea of the pain still to come.'
'But he's got you now to turn to: someone when the darkness comes. He's got people that need him… and like him.'
'Well, Cordelia has developed an extremely puzzling and even prurient interest in your sex life and would miss that terribly if he went... and I, well, I like the effects of having him here… on you.'
Angel blinked slowly and looked down, 'Thanks, Wesley, for everything.'
Angel's doubts about Spike were never far from the surface for the next few days. He watched him like a hawk: if he didn't talk, Angel was worried; if he talked too much, Angel was worried. Angel stayed in a constant state of nervous anticipation for Spike's next reaction to his soul.
He returned from the theatre one night to find Spike standing by the open window of their room. It was raining - unusual rain for Los Angeles, heavy and cold. He watched Spike's face in profile for a while from the cover of the doorway. The slim vampire seemed to be focusing on something far away, perhaps something that seemed closer in the monotonous rain.
Angel felt a shiver down his spine and had the feeling yet again, that Spike was not as content and as well adapted as he gave the appearance of being. The fear of losing Spike was so paralysing that Angel just refused to face it, pushing it to one side. He went quietly up behind the silent vampire, sliding his arms around and folding them tightly over the smooth chest.
'Whatcha thinking about?'
Spike did not turn, but he put his arms up to cover Angel's. When he replied, his voice was barely more than a whisper. 'God.'
Angel paused: that was a bit of a showstopper, and he felt on uncertain ground. 'For any particular reason?'
'You told me all this pain would be like him seeing me again.'
'And it isn't?'
'No, it isn't. I told that vicar bloke I didn't like his God. Maybe that's why - maybe God is pissed with me.'
'You told him you'd find yourself a new God.'
Spike twisted around and looked at him thoughtfully; he'd forgotten Angel had read the accounts of his travels with a soul. 'Yeah, I did.' He turned away from the window, backing Angel slowly toward the bed. Angel fell; Spike straddled him and began to unbutton his shirt.
Angel felt panic rising in him again for this complex childe he could not bear to lose. 'But you don't still feel like that, do you? Not after… this…. Not after us?'
Spike began to laugh at something and, initially, wouldn't share the joke with Angel. Eventually, seeing Angel's expression, he said with unusual passion, 'Yeah, I still do - I bloody well do. It's a total pisser, Angel, having a soul but still being a filthy demon. So, you know what?' He opened Angel's shirt entirely and placed his hands precisely over Angel's nipples so the tiny peaks tickled his palms. He looked thoughtful, got Angel's worried attention, and then delightedly flicked up one eyebrow with a cheeky grin. 'I got me a new God. And he sees me just fine.' He chuckled again and bent down to place his lips to Angel's, but just before they tasted each other, added with a seductive pout, 'If he gets lucky, that is.'
I hope this small note reaches you; I felt you might like an update on the young man I wrote about for you before. I shall send it to the address you left on your card and hope that it does. Only, it is rather nice and I was sure you would like to know. Some days ago the postman rang and said he had received a delivery for the church and, as the warden, could he leave it with me. Obviously I was rather surprised, but said, of course he could, and then he put a small bunch of flowers in my hand and pointed out the little note tucked between the blossoms.
I didn't like to open it, but this was the strangest thing, it was addressed to that unfortunate woman who had died in 18__ and who had so upset the young man you came here about. I took the flowers to her grave the very same day. I've been tending it a little anyway, as every time I visited the church I thought about him and felt he might like to know how pretty her little patch was looking. The flowers just looked so sweet I felt it would not hurt to open the card as well. I haven't enclosed it, for I placed it under a small stone. Bless her, she can't read it, but I felt she might like to have it anyway.
To my beloved Mother… I lingered under that benign sky; listened to the soft wind breathing through the grass; and wondered how anyone could ever imagine unquiet slumbers, for the sleeper in that quiet earth.'
And I've thought about him a lot since I read that and I think now, that if he wants to be her son… who are we to say nay? Who are we to say that she would not like that, too? I believe, despite what her stone says, that she lost her child and subsequently her life through that loss. I am sure she is in heaven, and I believe she looks down and sees those pretty flowers, and maybe she remembers blue eyes and the sweet face of her own lost child - but in gaining him, is happy at last.
He was a terribly troubled, confused young man, but what mother could want for a more devoted or loving son?
Mrs Grace Vosey