When Spike threw the door open and appeared with a flourish of leather at the top of the stairs, the other two knew to leave, quickly and innocuously. He had growled and snarled the first night he had burst the door down. It was an effective threat. These nights, they always disappeared even before Warren could tear his eyes from the figure in the doorway.
Then, whenever he showed, Spike would swagger down the stairs, murder in his eyes. Warren found it funny, though he didn’t show it. He simply stood, his eyes burning, waiting for the vampire to light up, fling himself on the couch, and gradually give in to the game they played.
At first Warren had tried to maintain some semblance of pretence. How’s the chip? You gonna tell me what it does? Killed anyone I know lately?
He didn’t bother with that anymore. He knew how it went. Spike sat and smoked sullenly for half an hour, maybe more, while Warren got on with whatever he was doing. Nothing frivolous when the vampire was in the room. He’d do something Spike had no chance of understanding. He’d tinker with some complicated coding or mess about with circuitry. Underneath the leather and bleach was a Victorian who had once read by gaslight and travelled by steam.
Tonight, however, when Spike slammed the door and clomped down the stairs, he quietly angled the monitor away from the couch. Spike grunted hello, and Warren nodded in reply. He always looked wary, it was part of the game, so tonight was no different.
Would he smell her? Sense her? This would be interesting. Would the vampire feel the Slayer so close?
They had monitored her movements that evening, and he knew she’d be here soon. Peering in the windows, testing the doors. He had left the small ventilation window near the couch open, and he had hidden a camera in the old wooden frame. The computer would record everything. He could watch her face, later, and laugh.
Spike lay back, his neck white and motionless. Not a pulse, not a breath, except when he inhaled. Warren liked it, that skin. Poreless. Smooth. Good against his tongue. Spike’s skin didn’t taste of sweat. Not his own, anyway. Usually Warren could taste her all over him, taste salty sex and her sweet perfumed perspiration. He didn’t know if that was part of the thrill of being fucked by Spike. Maybe. Whatever. Probably not.
Just as she came into view on the monitor he let his gaze turn at last to Spike’s heavy, unreadable eyes. He caught the bare movement of Spike’s jaw, the casual come hither that he could deny in his own head later. Warren went. He did what he always did. He knelt on the ground in front of him, pulled down his jeans, their eyes locked all the while, and then he did what he could do really, really well. It was a skill. Shame to waste it. He liked it, anyway.
Warren felt a thrill run down his spine. She was outside. He knew it, and Spike didn’t. So when Spike said his name, Warren, over and over as his knuckles whitened in his thick, dark hair, he sucked, licked, and bit just where he knew would cause the most noise. Spike’s pelvis ground into his face. He liked it. And he liked the thought of her listening all the while.
He felt Spike flex his fingers out straight for just one moment. This was his chance. The vampire roared when he took his mouth away.
He knew he looked obscene, his eyes black with sex, his mouth wet with spit and precum. His breath came short and fast.
“Why are you here?” he said.
Spike just looked at him, his face frozen in surprise. Warren waited. Spike tried to haul him back down by his hair but Warren saw it coming and dodged out of the way. The vampire was slow with frustration.
“Why are you here?” he said again.
“You fucking know why I’m here, you twat.” His face was scathing, disgusted.
“Tell me anyway,” said Warren. “Tell me or it’s the last time. There are things I can do that you can’t.”
Spike growled in frustration, his eyes flicking to the unknown machines.
“I’m here so you can sodding suck me off, then I can bugger you senseless,” he snarled. “Which you bloody love, you fucking poofter.”
Warren smiled half a laconic smile.
“Yeah, I knew that much,” he said. “Why else? Why me?”
Spike stilled. Warren prayed that she wouldn’t move, wouldn’t give herself away outside.
Spike shook his head.
“Fuck you,” he said, reaching once again for Warren’s hair. He dodged again, sliding back this time, away from Spike’s legs.
“Tell me,” said Warren.
“Because it’s fucking fun, that’s why,” said Spike. Warren kept his eyes empty. “And because,” continued Spike evenly, “it’s nice to be sickened by the person I’m fucking as much as she’s disgusted by me. Plus, you got a great mouth.”
Warren smiled again, with narrowed eyes.
“Yeah, that’s right,” he said. “I make you sick.” He said it low and thick with apathy.
And she heard everything. Spike was more violent now, and Warren took it all. This wasn’t the last time the vampire would strut in here but it was the last time he’d smell of her. Her precious little heart wouldn’t stand for it anymore after his poignant declaration. And there was no way she’d let him inside her again once she knew where else he buried that cock of his.
Warren swallowed deep when Spike came, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. While the vampire’s eyes were still closed he risked a glance at the monitor.
He smiled widely, and looked back to Spike. He was in post-head bliss, but Warren knew it wouldn’t last long.
“Come on,” he said, almost laughing. “What do you want to do next?”