Also Comes in Strange
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Title: Promethean Quadrille
Series: Coming to Conclusion
Authors: Tania & Josey
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Angel/Spike
Summary: Set post-In the Dark, Spike wants to say thank you, but there's only one sound Angel wants to hear.

A hand on Doyleís arm stopped him mid-step, pulling him back into the lift.

"What is it?" Doyle turned to look at Angel, seeing glints of yellow in eyes that had been almost joyful a moment before.

"Spike," Angel answered through clenched teeth as he sniffed at the air.

"Oh man, is he really stupid enough to come back and wanna chew the fat after all that?"


Leading the way, Angel descended into the basement apartment, not surprised in the least to see Spike splayed out on the sofa, bag of chips in hand, flipping through a book much faster than he could possibly read. When Spike didn't so much as look up from the book when the elevator's grate clamored open Angel clenched his fists and headed deeper into the apartment.

"What are you doing here, Spike?" Angel asked, keeping Doyle a few paces behind him as he spoke.

"Well I came to thank you, didnít I?" Closing the book, Spike set it on the coffee table and turned to Angel, letting his boots hit the hard concrete floor with a thud.

"Thank me, really?"

"Of course," Spike said. " I had a good day thanks to you. You took care of a pesky employee, left me fully intact. Even got myself a bagful of fabulous hostess gifts outta the deal, so I figured many thanks were in order."

"Whatever youíre offering, Spike," Doyle chipped in from behind Angelís shoulder, "Angel doesnít want it."

Angel opened his mouth to reply but Spike jumped in first, his eyebrow rising to improbable heights as he retorted, "Wouldnít lay good money on that, mate. And, while weíre about it, does the great poof here know heís knocking about with another demon? Not much in the way of his usual style, are you?"

"Enough," Angel interjected, his comment aimed at both the men, and shoved Doyle none too gently toward the elevator. "Go find Cordy. Iíll be up later."

"You sure, man?" Doyle frowned up at him ready to defend his employer, but on Angelís insistent nod, complied.

As Doyle slid the grill shut, Spike called out, "Yeah, scarper back off to dogboy and the cheerleader. And donít be coming back in a hurry, me and Angelís got a bit of business to sort."

"You and I have nothing to say," Angel said in a voice more than a little reminiscent of Angelus.

"Oh come on, you look none the worse for wear."

"You're not looking hard enough."

"I'm looking," Spike said, pushing himself up to standing and slowly walking around the coffee table, never taking his eyes off of Angel's face, "So, enough with the chit chat. That flash of green in the sky just now, tell me it wasn't my ring."

"It wasn't yours, but yeah it was the ring."

"You really are a daft prick aren't you? I don't know about you, but I don't fancy ending up a pile of dust, and that little bauble was a stay out of the dustbin free card."

"You might consider living a less dangerous lifestyle if you're worried about getting dusted," Angel suggested.

"And you might consider painting the walls white every now and then, you're looking a bit...repressed."

"Walls white?" Angelís brow furrowed in confusion. "Donít you mean paint the town red? Iím sure I read somewhere it was-"

"Red! White! What the bloody hell does it matter," Spike ranted, his hands waving wildly as he paced back and forth. "The important bit is the last bit." Coming to rest directly in front of Angel, Spike jabbed him in the - still painful - chest with a long bony finger. "You, Sunny Jim, are repressed."

"I am not repressed," Angel defended himself, swatting Spikeís hand away. "Every night Iím out there fighting, killing -"

"Yeah, yeah. Doing your bit for the American nightmare."

"Iím helping people, Spike. I know that means nothing to you-"

"When was the last time you got shagged?"

"What the hell does that have to do with anything?"

Spike let a smirk slide over his lips, curling them under his teeth. "You, mate, need a good shag. When you get hard because someone's got a set of needle-nosed pliers to yer nipples despite the molten rebar jammed into various parts of your anatomy, you've got issues."

"You gave me those issues." Angel rubbed at his shoulder, wincing at the pain where his shoulders had nearly come out of the sockets earlier in the day.

"Yeah well, that's what you get for taking my pretties."

Spike didn't even have time to flinch before Angel's punch sent him sprawling across the room and crashing through the coffee table, sending splinters and miscellaneous clutter flying through the air.

He tried to bounce up off the floor but Angel was covering his body within seconds, beating on his chest with what looked like a book of Plato but could have been Sartre.

"Get off," he whined, struggling to push Angel to the side, but to little effect.

The book came down once more, driving a sharp edge in Spike's pectoral and prying a squeal from his lips. Angel tried to land the book again but Spike shot a hand out just in time to knock it from his grasp and follow with a short punch to Angel's ribs, planting his knuckles over raw flesh and cracked ribs.

"Dammit, Spike!" Angel cried, wrapping a large hand around Spike's throat and slamming his head back against the concrete. "Don't do that."

"Don't touch me there, yer not my mummy and it doesn't feel right," Spike mocked, jabbing at Angel again.

Rapidly reaching exasperation point, Angel shut Spike up the only way he knew how. By kissing him, hard. Their lips collided and for a second, and despite the odds, Spike kept trying to talk. Angel growled and pressed down onto the slim body below him.

With one of Angelís hands around his throat, the other tangled in his hair, and all of Angelís weight on top of him, Spike had little choice but to give in and go with the flow. Not that he was unhappy about it. In fact the growing bulge in his pants testified he was far from upset, and the matching one in Angelís suggested he was pretty chuffed too.

Angelís tongue probed at his lower lip and Spike obliged, opening up enough to let Angel slip inside and ravish his mouth. He closed his throat against a groan and gripped Angelís shoulders tugging him closer to remove the small gap between them, feeling his body starting to respond in the time honored fashion.

When Angel finally released him, Spike had a far more suitable expression on his face. Sort of dark lust-glazed and well-kissed, his lips swollen with just a hint of blood around his teeth. Angel smirked. It had been a while but he still had it.

Spike blinked, his eyes clearing, and opened his mouth to speak again. Angel took the opportunity to dive in again.

Biting at Spike's tongue each time he tried to form words was keeping Angel's mouth busy while his hands raced over hips and ribs, seeking out tender flesh. Angel bucked against Spike's body, not caring that his knee was pressed against Spike's groin harder than the blond would have liked. In fact he took more than a little pleasure knowing he wasn't the only one aching.

Getting lost in a kiss wasn't an easy task for either of them given the hard floor and their sore bodies. Mostly Angel's sore body of course. Typical, Angel thought as he meticulously cleaned the blood from Spikeís mouth, but at least heíd gotten a few decent blows in before theyíd got this far and if he was careful the wounds in his chest wouldnít stop themÖ Hang on. What the hell was he doing!

Abandoning Spikeís mouth and sitting up, Angel yelped with pain as Spike tried to reclaim him by grabbing onto his shoulder.

"Get off!" He snarled, shoving Spikeís limbs away, and settling his weight firmly on Spikeís chest. He wasn't sure if the idiot had dug his thumb into the wound on purpose or not but it hurt like hell.

Spike held his hands up in mock surrender and blew Angel a kiss.

The gesture had the same effect as a slap in the face and Angel immediately retaliated by scrubbing at his mouth with the back of his hand, overtly showing his displeasure with getting carried away. Spike smirked and blew another one, this time waggling his tongue afterward.

Angel clamped his jaw shut, leaned forwards and growled, "Just what are you doing here, Spike?"

"I thought it was pretty obvious," the answer came, chockfull of innuendo.

"I'm serious. This is pretty stupid even for you."

"Well it's either you or Harmony, and she's a two hour drive and four bottles of vodka away."

Crossing his arms over Spikeís chest, Angel squinted down his nose at the man pinned below him and asked with a hint of genuine curiosity, "And Iím what? A couple of rebars and some Mozart closer?"

"Nope. At last count it was a bottle of whiskey and a comfy bed. Whyíd you ask?"

Angel shook his head despairingly. It really was pointless trying to have a serious conversation with Spike. "Because you strung me up in a warehouse and had me tortured for hours, not to mention lending a hand yourself, and then you turn up here and-"

"Come on!" Spike cut in. "Itís not like you havenít done worse. Shagging Dru in front of me-"

"That wasnít me-"

"Oh, donít give me that Angelus crap. Heís you and youíre him, and you bloody know it."

"Yeah, tell me all about it, William."

Spike sneered and tried to push Angel's weight off of him but only succeeded in sliding him further down his body, bringing Angel's ass to rest over his crotch.

"Well you've had me pinned here for a few minutes now, you planning on staking or poking?"

"You're an idiot," Angel stated as a matter of fact, staring at the walls while Spike half-heartedly struggled beneath him.

"Maybe," Spike grinned, "But at least I came back to make it up to you."

"You're really serious? You expect me to just fuck you after what you pulled today?"

"Um, yeah. Didn't I say that?" Spike bucked his hips forward, jolting Angel back to attention. "I mean the mick's good looking and all, but it doesn't smell like he's giving it up. Unless he makes you go to his place."

Angel landed a sharp punch on Spike's shoulder, smiling when the impact made Spike jump and try to rub at the newly forming bruise. Grabbing at Spike's hands, Angel pulled them under his knees, crushing his fingers against the thinly carpeted concrete as he pinned him in place.

"Now what?" Spike asked, his eyes widening as Angel answered by slowly unfastening his jeans. "Youíd better be carefulÖungh!"

"Ah-ah," Angel said, squeezing hard when Spike thrust up. "You came to me, so weíre doing this on my terms." Spike shook his head and groaned when Angel clenched his fist again. "First - just so we understand each other - any breaking of the rules and Iím throwing you out, most likely with a stake in your chest. Clear?"

Spike nodded, not trusting himself to speak and Angel grinned smugly before continuing, "Second. No talking. I heard enough of your voice today. Enough to last me several lifetimes, in fact. Understand?"

This time Spike smirked in acknowledgement, and then gasped when Angelís hand slid up under his shirt and tweaked a nipple.

"Panting, groaning; these are acceptable. As is begging."


Grinning broadly, Angel flicked his gaze briefly down to the cock gripped tightly in his hand, before returning to study Spikeís face as he stroked firmly up and down the shaft. Spikeís eyes were screwed shut, his mouth twisting as he fought to stop his body from bucking up into Angelís hand, the air whistling through his lips.

Angel grinned as he felt Spike begin to shudder beneath him. The idea of leaving the idiot hanging moments from climax crossed his mind more than once as the veins in Spike's cock pulsed in his grasp. He was giving it more serious contemplation when the slow grind of cables heralded the elevator descending into the apartment behind him.

Turning his head to see the heavy iron gate shake as the elevator clanged to the floor, Angel let out a soft curse.

"Everything okay down here, boss?" Doyle asked from the lift.

Angel could just make out fingers wrapped around the grating, worrying at the iron, unsure of whether to pull it open or remain inside the relative safety of the cage.

"We're fine," Angel shouted, trying to hide the arousal in his voice as his eyes locked with Spike. He continued to stroke Spike's length, shaking his head as he saw Spike's lips purse together forming thin white lines as he bit back his orgasm.

"You sure?" Doyle prodded, "cause Cordy and I have, um, crossbows and things if you're uncomfortable doing it yourself."

"Nope, no problem doing him myself," Angel called over his shoulder, toying with Spike's balls as he rocked back on clenched thighs.

"We were just thinking you might be a bit on the attached side, I mean it is Spike," Doyle continued.

His irritation growing faster than his own erection, Angel twisted his body towards the lift again, stretching Spike's cock to the limit as he pulled away. "Doyle, we're fine, really."

Doyle started to protest again but was cut off by Spike's howl. The Irishman clenched at the grating harder, unsure if the primal scream had been one of pain or pleasure. When soft moans and several 'god dammits' followed the scream he decided he wasn't going to get involved.

"Right then, you two have I'll just be upstairs if you need me." When he received no answer, Doyle closed the inner door and pressed the lobby button, trying to focus on the screech of cables and metal coming from the elevator shaft and not the moans and begging wafting to his ears from the basement.

Angel continued working the softening dick until the cage was out of sight, ignoring the whimpers and "stops" that babbled from Spikeís mouth. Finally content that he had made his point, he stopped, fixed his gaze on dazed blue eyes and held up his come covered hand. "You came," he said, stating the blindingly obvious as far as Spike was concerned.

"What díyou expect? Tug on a bloke like that, and it tends to happen," Spike snarked, the overall effect ruined by the way the words came out as intermittent pants.

"All over the carpet," Angel said, gesturing to the wet splatters seeping into the wool. "Itíll never come out. This place is gonna stink of you for weeks."

Rediscovering his poise, or as much of it as was left considering he was still pinned to said carpet, Spike said, "Not all bad then. And itís not as if you werenít trying to get me off." He grinned, finding his form at last, "Thanks for that, by the way. Didnít think you still had it in you."

Angel leaned forwards, making Spike crane his head back to keep eye contact and, when their lips were millimeters apart and Spike could already feel the kiss that was sure to come, he growled, "Oh, youíd be surprised what I still have in me, boy. And I donít remember saying you could talk."

There was no way in hell Spike could control the shiver that ran through him in response to that tone. Yeah, heíd told Angel that there was no difference between him and Angelus, but it had been a bluff. For starters there was no way Angelus would have held his tongue when Spike took the pliers to his nipples; the air would have been blue with threats and insults, not purple with unnecessary prose. But this? This was all Angelus. From the black eyes boring straight into Spikeís head until he could feel them on the back of his skull, through the lips twisted with lust and cruelty, to the hand still gripping his balls and running a single finger along the oh-so-sensitive patch of skin behind.

"I can still beg, yeah?" Spike managed to stutter despite his near paralysis at seeing Angel slowly undo his own buckle and slide his cock out, letting it rest on Spike's quivering stomach.

"Begging is good," Angel ran the tip of his cock through the small pools of come covering Spike's tight abdomen, "Have anything in particular on your mind?"

"Yeah, something real poetic I'm sure, but at the moment it all sounds like 'cock, big cock, want to fuck now'."

A laugh built in Angel's throat, and despite the pain still racking his body he couldn't help but almost pity Spike's present condition. Angel, and Angelus, had done a lot of things throughout the centuries, but being pinned to a concrete floor and jerked off weren't among the list. There was a certain poetic justice to being the top tonight, after being the patsy all day, almost made putting up with Marcus' amateur night crap worth it.


Each languorous stroke brought him one step closer to abandoning any sort of payback and just riding Spike till the blond fell in a lifeless heap, but Angel wasn't ready to give up the torture just yet.

Smile sheeting from his face, Angel knelt up to ensure Spikeís hands were held firmly at his sides, drew his fist back and cold-cocked him.

As Spike slept the sleep of the knocked unconscious, Angel pottered around his apartment looking for supplies. The chains were a given, kept on hand on the off chance Angelus put in a reappearance. Whistling tunelessly to himself, Angel untangled a long chain from around the bed and slung it over one of the exposed support beams, tugging firmly to make sure they were secure, then he hauled the comatose Spike over, stripped off the remains of his clothes and snapped the manacles shut around his wrists. That done, he was free to find other things without worrying that Spike was going to slope off when he woke up.

With increasing frustration, Angel hunted through his stuff. In the good old days he would have had holy water and crosses to hand for just this sort of occasion but now those things were stored in the office upstairs and he wasnít prepared to explain himself to Doyle and Cordelia simply so he could pick up supplies. Standing in the middle of the floor and turning around, a frown plastered on his face, Angel decided there was nothing else for it; he was going to have to improvise.

A rousing round of, "You fucking bastard" and the rattle of chains, alerted Angel to Spike's more cognizant state some five minutes later. Angel ignored him, and the invectives, and continued his preparations. After his treatment at the hands of that blithering amateur today, Angel had a yen to remind Spike how a real professional did things, of course just how long it lasted depended more on his cock's patience than his mind's.

Carrying his supplies neatly laid out on a tray, and covered with a cloth, because where was the fun if your victim knew what was coming, Angel returned to the bedroom.

"Look, youíve had your kicks, mate. Now let me go," Spike said, yanking on the chains and lifting his feet off the floor. Angel resisted the urge to give him a push, it was childish and - fuck it!

A single shove was all it took to set Spike swinging like a side of beef in a butcher's shop. The language however was more suited to a pub brawl. "Shit! You wanker! You total and complete tosser! If you donít let me down, Iím gonna-"

"Youíre gonna what, Spike?  Make monkey noises at me?"

"ARGH!" Spike bellowed, his body twisting itself in knots as he tried to get free. By the time Angel returned to calmly perusing his tray and the difficult decision of what to use first, Spike was upside down with his feet braced against the ceiling as he tried to rip the chain from the steel beam.

"See, monkey." Angel stated flatly. "Get back down here or I'll weight your feet too."

Spike glared back down at Angel and slowly released his feet from the support beam, falling back to the ground with a clanking of chains sure to be heard upstairs. Spike couldn't help but laugh at the thought of the fair Cordelia's ears being treated to the sounds coming from below.

Once Spike was back on the ground Angel began walking circles around him. Spike followed as many times as he could before the chain started to kink and forced him to uncoil it by spinning the other way. When the pressure on the chains whipped him back a little quicker than he'd expected, forcing his shoulders to pop in protest, Spike let out a sharp yell.

"Shut up."

"Well, it hu-" Angel cut the words off with a hard smack to the back of the head, pulling blond hair back so that he could whisper in Spike's ear.

"If the words 'it hurts' escape your lips again, I swear to you I will go up that elevator, out to your car, and bring in Marcus' little bag of treats, and if you think he knew what he was doing you have forgotten several very important years of our time together."

Spike swallowed as both thrill and fear surged through his body. Behind him Angel was fiddling with something, and Spike turned slightly to peer over his shoulder.

"Turn around," Angel ordered, and Spike swung back with a huff.

"Call that a torture kit," he commented, staring up at the chains again and squinting at the bar to see if his exertions had made any impact on it whatsoever. They hadnít. "Nothing but a bunch of - OW! What the hell was that?"

Angel stepped back and studied the pink oval shaped imprint on Spikeís buttock. It was as good a place to start as any. "Youíve behaved like a spoiled brat today, so I thought Iíd treat you like one." He held up the hairbrush for Spikeís inspection before landing another firm swat on the pale backside hanging in front of him. Switching to his other hand - it always behooved a professional to practice - Angel set up a steady rhythm of smacks and catches as Spike shifted around attempting to present a part of himself that hadnít got up close and personal with the wood.

"You know," Angel said after a few moments. "This isnít going to stop until Iím done, so you may as well stop fighting."

Spike froze, only his jaw clenching in time with the blows showed he was registering them at all. Angel watched him carefully, reading the near invisible signs of Spike getting close to the end of his tether, and generously combined sweeps of his hand with each flurry of smacks, soothing the hurt as he created it. The first time Angelus had done this, in a farmhouse in Provence if Angel remembered rightly, Drusilla had helped out, down on her knees and sucking on the young William when Daddy told her to. In fact it had been a real family affair, with Darla supervising from the corner, her skirts hiked up and fingers busy as she offered words of wisdom on how best to introduce the finer points of vampiric sexplay to the naïve fledgling.

"Start him off with my hairbrush, Angelus," her silky smooth voice whispered in his ear. "Teach him to love it and he will soon come to crave it."

Sheíd been right too. Over the years that brush had seen more action on Spikeís ass than it ever had in Darlaís hair, though it hardly qualified as punishment. Angel smiled at the memory, renewing his efforts to make Spike cry out.

On the next blow a whimper broke from Spikeís lips and Angel paused, reaching around to check on the current state of play. His hand closed around a rock hard cock, throbbing and wet with arousal and he awarded it a firm stroke, just for good measure.

"Still awake?" he cooed into Spike's ear as he spun the vampire back around, cupping at reddened cheeks as they came into view.

Spike gave a quick nod, not trusting himself to speak while Angel was sliding strong fingers over his ass, each tickle of fingertips causing Spike to clench already tense muscles.

"Relax now." Angel curled an arm around Spike's stomach and pulled him against his chest.

"Right," Spike gritted out. "Sure to do that any second."

"Relax," came the order again. Angel stared at the brush in his hand, toying with the smooth sandalwood handle. He rattled through the tray for a second, making a show of clanking metal bits together. Spike's whimpering anticipation giving the desired effect, Angel poured a generous amount of cooking oil over the brush handle, coating his fingers as well, and returned his arm to Spike's waist before running slick fingers over Spike's cock for just a moment, trailing fingers quickly past balls and downy flesh before carefully entering Spike's body, first with soft fingers, and then hard wood.


"Been a while, hasnít it."

"Too long. JustÖ lose the toys Angelus and fuck me."

"Why would I want to do that?"

"Cause thatís the only reason you - Oh, Christ." Angelís fingers tightened their hold stripping Spikeís cock hard and fast, exactly the way he liked it, exactly the way he needed it to be. The brush he used like a handle, holding Spike firm as he twisted and fucked back against it.

"Angel, please, I need to come." Quick and easy - that was the Spike Angel remembered.

"Have I told you not to?"

Spike frowned thinking back over the sundry orders Angel had given him since he arrived. His terms. Shut up. Donít move. Nowhere in any of that had he been told not to come. His body registered it before his mind did, arching and shuddering as his balls released his second climax of the night. Angel held him, taking his weight and slowing easing the wooden handle from of his body.

Angel let Spike dangle from the chains for just a moment, his feet not quite able to rest flat on the thin carpet, toes trying to find a hold that would keep his body from swaying each time his body quaked with aftershocks. When Spike looked nearly relaxed, the sigh almost forming on his lips Angel quickly swept in, pulling him up by the knees and wrapping Spike's legs around his hips.

The full extent of what Angel was doing hardly registered with Spike until he was being lifted even higher to rest on the tip of Angel's cock. Angel let him hover there for a moment before slowly letting Spike's weight slide down his length, enclosing him in shaking flesh, each quiver sending Spike jolting back up, grasping the chains and trying to pull away, only to be pulled back down by slick hands on his hips.

"Christ," Spike moaned as Angel rocked him up and down, filling him in languorous strokes, stretching and twisting his body in random patterns.

"Tight," Angel breathed over Spike's ear, running a wet trail up his neck before attacking his mouth with lip splitting force. Clutching at Spike's back muscles, Angel wished his hands were a little less oiled so he could get a decent grip. He rubbed and kneaded at Spike's cool skin, thrusting inside, grinding his orgasm into Spike's ass, pressing Spike's cock between their torsos. When Angel let out his last sigh of ecstasy and released Spike's feet back onto the floor, the blond was a lifeless heap, his shoulders burning from the strain of supporting his own body. Angel unlocked the heavy manacles and he tumbled to the floor, mumbling and incoherent.

After taking a few seconds grace to compose himself, Angel slid his arms under Spike's armpits and dragged him over to the bed, immediately re-chaining him. This time the restraints gave Spike a clear foot of movement, though for now his arms lay loose at his sides.  He'd need them for the next go round Angel decided.

"So," Angel said, landing himself between Spike's legs with a heavy sigh, "I'm exhausted, how bout you?"

"Yeah," Spike muttered.

"Now, like I said, I've had a long day, so I'm afraid you'll have to do all the work for a while." Angel coaxed Spike to stiffness with a few hard pulls and gave a few firm swirls over the head. Once Spike was sufficiently aroused Angel slid off of Spike's hips and bent over, exposing Spike to a glorious view as he swallowed Spike's cock, pressing it to the back of his throat.

Spike gripped at the chains, sure he would pull the metal headboard crashing down on them both if Angel ran his tongue over him like that once more. He did, and Spike gasped bucking his hips up into the wonderful friction around the head of his cock. But it wasnít enough. Lying there as Angel ran lips and tongue over him, Spike found himself hungry for a taste of the same and nudged at Angel's leg, encouraging him to move closer. He twisted to the side as far as Angel would allow, and guided Angel's cock towards his mouth, frustrated that he couldn't get close enough to take in the entire length. His grunts of irritation did not go unheeded and within seconds Angel had moved his legs to either side of Spike's head and was fucking his mouth.

Angel was extremely tempted to abandon his attempts at bringing Spike off again and to just enjoy the expert blowjob, but that would rather defeat the object of the exercise.  Slowing his hips to a leisurely pump, Angel settled back to his task, working his lips tightly up and down the shaft in his mouth and using his tongue to tease and taste. It took a while before Spike was thrusting hard into Angelís mouth and moaning deep in his chest, the vibrations setting off similar sounds in Angelís; even vampiric stamina had its limits and by Angelís reckoning Spike should be getting close to reaching them by now.

As Spike thrashed beneath him, his thigh muscles clenching, Angel pulled away and deliberately scraped his teeth up the sensitized skin. With an agonized hiss, Spike jerked and flooded Angelís mouth, swallowing hard enough around the cock in his throat to make Angel grab at the sheets in an effort to stop himself following suit.

"That's three," Angel said as he pushed up from Spike's body and licked at his lips. The temptation to finish off in Spike's skilled mouth was strong but Angel had the feeling he could milk one more from Spike's body if he set his mind to it.

When the heat of Angel's body disappeared to the side of the bed, Spike kept his lips pursed shut, not ready to take another punch just yet.

Angel left the room for several minutes, only the sounds of cupboards and drawers opening coming back into the room. Spike shuddered as the thought of more 'toys' entering the picture ran through his mind.

"Good boy," Angel said when he finally returned, a bottle of lotion in hand, and found Spike blissfully silent. He sat between Spike's legs once more, pulling his own ankles under his body and taking a palm full lotion, slapping the cold liquid to Spike's cock with no warning.

Groaning at the renewed assault, Spike grasped the chains, giving a small tug as Angel pushed several lotion-covered fingers into his ass, pressing deep within.

"Jesus, Angel, too much," Spike yelped as Angel added a fourth finger, stretching him to the breaking point. His body was protesting loudly; over-stimulated nerves racing to send messages to his brain. At this precise moment, Spike was fairly certain he would come from a single touch, let alone this. Not that there was anything much left.

"You've gotta...stop!" he shouted as the empty orgasm raced through his body, balls painfully clenching in their vain attempt to show evidence of Angel's skills.

"That's four," Angel hissed as he flipped Spike over, bending him over the pillows and filling Spike in one hard motion.

The first thrust was deep enough that Angel had to pause, biting at his tongue in an attempt to hold back, Spikeís body made no movement at all, and yet the sensation still made Angelís mind go numb. Once the initial impact of flesh on flesh had passed, Angel began thrusting at a lazy pace, every inch of penetration sending shockwaves through his body.

"Angel stop, please," Spike tried to pull away from Angel's body, exhausted to the point of dropping, "I can't..."

"Of course you can," Angel made no attempt to hold himself back now. Completely giving in to the tight body squeezing at his cock in protest, Angel rocked his head back, releasing with a final thrust. He slowly pulled out and lay beside Spike, rolling him over onto his side. Spike was breathing hard and shaking, his shaft twitchy and half hard in Angelís hand. Angel gave it a quick squeeze and then relented when Spike curled around himself, pulling his knees up protectively.

"Had enough?" Angel asked.

"No. My dickís always this color. Didnít you know."

"If you insist." Angel levered himself up again and then collapsed laughing when Spike squirmed away across the bed, whimpering a little from the contact with the soft bedding.

Realizing that Angel was winding him up, Spike relaxed and sought out the comfort of a pillow, his eyelids drooping as he fought off sleep.  "Something must be tickling you, cause I donít remember you having a sense of humor?"

"You," Angel said.

Spike cracked one eyelid and glared. "Me? Iím funny?"

"Well, yeah."

"What way do you reckon that then?"

"Obvious. Iím the one who spent all day being tortured and youíre the one who canít walk."

"Well I could do," Spike whined.


"Yeah, if you'd undo the chains."

"I'll think about it," Angel said as he pulled a blanket over his body, and as an afterthought tossed it over Spike. "In the morning."