Title: See no Evil, Speak no Evil
"Now, really, that was hardly polite."
Frustratingly the impertinent little man kept ducking Angel's blows and, moving faster than any human had a right to, managed to keep his slim body between the determined vampire and the smoke swathed statue. The running commentary wasn't helping Angel's mood any either.
"Can't we just talk about this. Man to…ah, no, that won't work. How about professional to professional?"
With a remarkably athletic back flip, the man threw himself into the air and landed on the other side of the dais, his face splitting into an impish grin. "I see conversation's off the agenda. Well, don't say you didn't ask for it. I was the one attempting to be reasonable."
Angel ignored him and quickly assessed the situation. He'd been trying to disable his opponent for the past half an hour and was no closer than he had been at the start. And from the way the mage was glancing smugly at the idol, his spell would be completed very soon. Snarling, Angel lowered his head and charged the altar. If he couldn't take the man, he'd make damn sure there were no magics left for him to work.
As his foot touched the dais light filled the air, followed by an impressive explosion that threw Angel backwards and smashing into the wall. For a second he lay there stunned until a faint scuffling off to his right reminded him there was still business to take care of.
Pushing up from the debris strewn floor and jumping to his feet Angel looked around trying to spot the other man but, as he turned, all he saw were faint shapes and little glimmers of white from the bright florescent lights overhead. A rustling to his left caught his attention and he spun around, punching into the air, landing the third strike on what felt like jawbone. A thump on the floor followed by a small cry confirmed that he'd connected with his intended target.
"That hurt," the man whined from the floor.
"That's what happens when you try to channel chaos," Angel responded, still trying to clear his vision enough to finish the job.
"It's not like I created the bloody chaos. The trouble is, a town like Sunnydale just begs for it. Wouldn't you say?"
"No, I wouldn't," Angel turned around, unable to get his bearings.
His opponent, sensing the vampire's growing inability to fight, snatched up a few talismans and herb jars scattered near the now destroyed statue and headed towards the door.
"I'll be off now," he called back into the room. "Love to help you out, old chap. Well, no, actually I wouldn't. But there are still several hours till sun up if you'd care to walk into town. Or, you could always drive, if you think the nice army boys will allow a blind driver through their roadblock." The door chime clashed discordantly with the mage's high pitched laugh as he made good his escape.
Angel found a wall to lean on and rubbed his eyes hoping they would clear, but he remained sightless. He sniffed, but found his sense of smell was no better than his sight and settled for feeling his way slowly across the room until he found the door and stepped out into the night. The air was chill with impending winter, but not so unbearable for him to risk the three mile drive into Sunnydale. Grabbing a bag full of weapons and other necessities from the trunk of his car Angel stepped out onto the road, thankful there were roadblocks keeping the highways empty, and headed towards the besieged town.
Spike whistled tunefully as he strode along the sidewalk towards Willie's. At least, he told himself, it would have been tuneful if he had the ability to make any kind of sodding sound. His boot connected decisively with a newspaper stand, sending it careening across the street and he followed it, taking the time to smash it properly before continuing on his way. A demon had to get his kicks somehow and it seemed mailboxes were the only things lower on the food chain than Spike these days.
He huffed and stuffed his hands deeper in his pockets. No brooding. He was not going to let this get him down. So what if he was neutered… impotent… incapable… Christ, he needed a drink.
The crispy fold of new bills in his pocket made Spike feel a little cheerier, and he managed to divert his thoughts onto the meager upside to this Gentlemen business - apart from the fires and general chaos going on around him. The Slayer and her chums were so busy trying to take the newcomers down they'd left him in Harris' care, and Harris, being the idiot he was, had kicked Spike out so he could shag demon-girl. Hadn't checked his wallet either, so now Harris' wages were Spike's drinking vouchers and he was heading to Willie's to get well and truly rat-arsed.
Wandering through the warehouse district, Spike stuck to the shadows to avoid the Initiative soldiers patrolling every corner. He laughed at the thought that they probably considered themselves terribly covert when really, he could spot them two blocks away. Either they were Initiative or there was an epidemic of broomsticks up asses to go with the mass laryngitis.
He was nearly to Willie's door when he thought he spotted a familiar face. Walking on the next block, fingers trailing along the rough bricks of the wall, feeling more than seeing the way, clothes that were unmistakably European, despite looking like the day after Dresden.
Had to be Angel.
Spike changed directions, determined to get as far away as possible, but then a thought occurred to him; Angel's eyes were closed. The weight of whatever bag he was carrying was wearing him down as he slumped along the wall, and of course three of the Initiative boys had spotted him. Spike hated Angelus with a passion, but not so much as he hated the soldier boys. Point of fact he was certain there was nothing on earth he hated more than those bastards.
Taking a deep breath, Spike bolted towards Angel and, coming up alongside him, tried to shout a warning. Of course nothing came out. A flash of panic surged through him as the soldiers rounded the corner of the next block and he grabbed Angel's arm, hanging on when the other vampire tried to fling his grasp away. Spike squeezed harder and, when Angel opened his mouth to speak, used his spare hand to run his fingers softly over Angel's cheek. It was a poncy thing to do, but it had the desired effect. Angel calmed enough to let Spike take the bag from his shoulder and lead him into the closest door through the back of the building. Once they had moved along another alley and into another building, Spike set the bag down with a clank and gave Angel a quick look over.
The old fella was certainly looking a little worse for wear. Scorched around the edges as though he'd run through a fireball or got caught out in the sun. It was Angel's eyes that held Spike's attention though and after a second, he waved his hand in front of them.
Angel frowned and blinked. "Don't do that. Whoever you are, I can feel your hand waving around."
Well, buggering hell, he was blind. Spike opened his mouth to share a particularly nasty jibe and snarled silently when he remembered he couldn't. Typical. Only Angel could manage to get himself hurt at the precise moment Spike couldn't take advantage. And what did he mean, `whoever you are'. Surely Angelus could smell exactly who he was.
Angel reached out a hand to touch his rescuer. It was a vampire, he was fairly certain of that, as the hand on his face had been cooler even than his own skin. Obviously whoever it was, was suffering from the strange malady that was affecting the whole town. Laryngitis, they had said on the news and Angel hadn't believed a word of it. This was Sunnydale, if it wasn't something mystical he'd eat his hat. He tried to sniff the air, hoping to catch something familiar, but the blast during the fight had singed his nose enough that not much was penetrating his senses. He was just thankful it hadn't been a loud blast too or he'd probably be deaf to boot.
For a split second Spike felt sorry for his old sire, he could only imagine that Angel had come running to save his precious slayer, but from the looks of it he found something worse than a few fairy tale rejects. Served him and his martyr complex right.
"So you can't talk," Angel said knowing the answer.
Spike wanted to smack captain obvious upside the head but it felt too easy. No fun beating on the blind, and for all he knew it'd just make the fucking chip go off.
"Yeah, well thanks for the help, but I better go," Angel turned around, trying to gauge where the door had been, "if you could just point me in the right direction..."
Spike didn't fancy hearing that the Initiative were the ones to finally take Angel down, so he reached out and grabbed Angel's hand, turning it palm up. He used his index finger to spell out 'NO' and when Angel didn't seem to register what he was trying to say, Spike let out an exasperated sigh.
"Try again," Angel said, and on the second try he understood. "No what?"
Spike spelled the word a third time hoping persistence would win the battle, but as usual Angel had to play the hero. When he tried to pull his hand away Spike took a step forward and cupped his hands over Angel's groin, this time Angel stopped in his tracks.
"Remove your hands."
Angel's tone was arctic and Spike had to fight his body's instinctive response to obey. Of course he could let the prat wander out on his own but then… Sod it, why was he trying to save him again? The cock beneath his hands jumped and started to harden and Spike's smile broadened proportionately. It was as good a reason as any. Fuck knew, he hadn't gotten laid since the chip and the novelty of Mrs Palmer had worn off over a century ago.
"I said, remove your hands."
That wasn't going to happen. Instead, Spike dropped one hand slightly so it cupped Angel's balls and squeezed none too gently.
"Damn," Angel cursed, backing away and Spike pursued him until he stumbled over the large bag, crashing down and scattering assorted weapons and tools over the floor. Without thinking, both vampires reached out, their hands colliding over the hilt of a small single handed sword.
As Spike grabbed the sword the only thought in his brain was that if he got it away from Angel and swung he'd be dropped to the floor so fast by the pain that he'd never be able to stop him from going outside. Thinking quickly, Spike plunged his hand in his pocket and pulled out the wad of cash he'd lifted from Harris and thrust them under Angel's nose.
Angel struggled to gain the upper hand on the sword for a minute, and then a familiar scent trickled through his sinuses. He couldn't place it, but he *knew* it wasn't an enemy. Which didn't explain why this vampire would be holding something familiar to Angel, let alone know him well enough to know how to calm him, but it worked. Angel relaxed a little and took his hand off the blade, sitting up and wrapping his hands around his knees.
"Okay," he tried blinking his eyes, trying to see something other than the vaguest of shapes in front of him, to no avail. "We'll stay, but just for a minute, until whatever spooked you passes."
Spike was relieved for a second, but knew that a few minutes wouldn't be enough. The soldiers wouldn't stand down until the town was all healed, and who knew how long that would be. He rolled up onto his heels and rocked back and forth, trying to think of a way to keep Angel put. It was pure luck that he looked around, studying the boxes that lined the dark warehouse, and noticed the word Gerber stamped on several of them. He stood up and walked to the nearest box; ripping it open he couldn't help but give a silent laugh as its contents spilled onto the floor with a cushioned thud.
Now if he could just make the git hang around long enough to use it.
From his seat on the floor Angel followed the strange vampire's movements, hearing thuds and bangs and clanks coming from a short distance away. At one point he was fairly certain he heard breathing, which was unusual for most vampires. The only one who did it regularly was Spike and this couldn't possibly be him. For one thing Spike would be off somewhere with Dru, licking his wounds after losing out over the Gem of Amara. And for another, Angel couldn't see Spike protecting him from anything. Red hot pokers did not a friendship make, unless your name was Drusilla, but really… Angel shook his head, determined not to get dragged in that direction by his thoughts.
Not Spike then, but there was another possibility. Angelus had been prolific during his short reign in Sunnydale; maybe this was one of the numerous fledges he had made.
"Did I sire you?" he called out and then cursed himself for forgetting the other vampire couldn't answer him. A noise that sounded suspiciously like a boot through plywood echoed through the large building followed by stamping footsteps heading towards him. Insistent hands tugged him to his feet and Angel staggered in the direction he was pushed until he tumbled to the ground once again, this time landing on something soft and padded.
Pushed firmly on to his back, he tried to resist but, completely disorientated, finally succumbed to the surprisingly gentle kisses against his neck.
Spike thanked his luck again for choosing this building to hide out in. The small mattresses, meant for toddler cots, worked out fine when pressed side by side, and seeing Angel laying below him, was a perk. And, though smashing into the half dozen boxes had resulted in a few splinters in his hands, they were small price to pay for the assortment of toys he'd found. Then of course there were those that Angel had felt important enough to fall into the don't leave home without it category. Those he had safely tucked to one side while he got started on the ponce himself.
"Hey," Angel moaned, pushing a hand out, letting it rest on Spike's chest, "I'm not, I mean I have to..." he tried to stammer out a reason to leave, but as his shirt was unbuttoned and cool hands raced over his chest he lost his train of thought.
Rough teeth meandered after them, soothing over the healing skin that was now merely tender to the touch and not excruciatingly painful as it had been during his long walk into town. The vampire's hands continued to trace over each muscle, bravely venturing to buttons on his trousers every now and then, flicking over the hard plastic, but never actually undoing them. Angel moaned again, in spite of himself, the urge to stay quickly overcoming the need to go back out on the street to try and find Buffy.
"S-sorry," he gasped, wondering what the hell he'd done wrong. And then "Hey!" when metal bands fastened round both wrists, snapping shut with an ominous click. A hard wrench confirmed exactly what Angel had feared. Enchanted.
Spike rolled sideways off the mattress, arms wrapped around his stomach as he laughed hysterically, albeit silently. The expression on Angel's face when the cuffs closed was one to treasure for all time and Angel's cursing about checking the contents of his bag before he left home next time wasn't exactly helping to calm Spike's laughter.
Angel struggled against the handcuffs for a moment before giving up, he'd bought them after all and knew it was futile to try and resist. "Okay, so now that you've got me here what are you going to do?"
Frustration jolted through Spike. He would have loved to tell Angel what he was going to do to him. He was dying to tell him just how he was going to spread him open and fuck him, Spike wanted nothing more than to hear Angel tell him how he'd never allow it, how he'd fight him. Spike knew the words Angel would retort with and part of him wanted to hear it, but another part was near giddy with the thought that Angel had no idea what was coming, even as his trousers were pulled down to his ankles.
Crawling forward on the thin mattresses, Spike pulled Angel's shoes off as he went, tossing them aside, trousers following quickly in their wake. At that point Spike had to stop, collapsing between Angel's knees and shaking with renewed laughter as he traced his fingernails over Angel's thighs and up to the edge of his underpants.
Angel shuddered and curled his toes at the touch, squeezing knees together and jolting Spike until he could feel the shaking laughter slow. "It's not like I planned on getting myself handcuffed and stripped off tonight, you know," he complained wondering if he looked as embarrassed as he felt. They were nice boxers. Smart. Silk. Okay, a little on the garish side, but what did anyone expect of a St. Patrick's Day present from Doyle.
He shuddered again when delicate fingers drew around the outline of a strategically placed shamrock and then relented, letting them follow the leprechaun's trail back to the pot of gold. A mouth followed, cool and damp, complete with a probing tongue that explored every ridge and hollow, pushing wetly at the material and worrying the skin beneath. Angel blinked and strained against the cuffs, bucking upwards as best he could. His feet were held flat on the bed by strong hands on his ankles and, when the mouth returned to his straining cock and nuzzled against him, Angel's breath exploded from his chest with a gasp.
The sound of muscle grating over bone during the demonic change rang loudly in the near silence of the warehouse, and the blunt human teeth that had been touching him a moment before were now replaced by the scrape of ivory fangs.
"Don't tear them," Angel said suddenly, fearing for the delicate material, and the hands that had been toying with him stilled. "They were a gift. From a friend," he added.
There was something about the tone of voice, a sadness, and Spike released his grip on Angel's ankles, telling himself that there was nothing sappy about taking care as he stripped the hideous clothing from Angel's co-operative body. Once the boxers were in his hand Spike was hard pressed to not fold the poncy things, he fought the urge and threw them on the pile with Angel's trousers. Now that he was naked, Angel's body had Spike's full attention.
Angel's body had only grown more muscular, more beautiful since Spike had had him strung up in a warehouse three months earlier. All signs of the day of torture were gone, the skin covering his chest and legs was once again flawless. His skin had a tanned glow despite not being exposed to the sun in two hundred odd years. The breath caught in Spike's throat as he leaned forward to take Angel's beautiful cock into his mouth. The scent of mystical herbs and singed flesh mixed in Spike's nose, and yet this was a scent he could never forget, all Angel, gorgeous. Spike extended his tongue out as far as he could, curling the end to tickle the base of Angel's length.
"Oh god," Angel moaned out, grasping at the vinyl cover of the mattress and arching his back off the mattress, nearly twisting Spike's head off as he brought his knees together in a convulsion.
Angel hadn't had a mouth like this on him in years, not since Angelus had been unleashed on Sunnydale at least. Closing his eyes, he tried to picture Drusilla practicing her art on his cock, and yet he couldn't help it when his mind wandered to thoughts of Spike. Spike watching Dru, Spike pushing Dru out of the way, Dru coming back to satisfy Spike, while Spike did *that* - "Oh god," he cried out again, unable to think of a better response to the ministrations up and down his cock.
Spike smiled around the head of Angel's dick; nice to know he still had a few tricks up his sleeves. More than a few, he thought as he popped the lid open on a bottle of the baby oil, coating his fingers with the thick liquid, and touched his fingertips to Angel's entrance. Angel gasped at the cold touch but didn't push away. Encouraged, Spike dug around in his little treasure pile until he found what he was looking for; a bulb tipped pacifier. Renewing his attempt to blow Angel's mind, he swirled his tongue over the cock head in his mouth and placed the rubber tip of the pacifier at Angel's entrance, pushing it slowly in, just enough to see if he would get hurled across the room.
He very nearly did, but only thanks to getting caught off guard when Angel concertinaed nearly in half and then kicked out with a grunt.
"Sorry. Sorry," Angel gasped when his knee contacted with something that felt ominously like a head. "Surprised me, that's all."
A hand patted his thigh and the mouth was back, just as industriously as before. This time when the cool whatever-it-was pushed against his hole, he managed to control himself, accepting it into his body as simply another source of gut wrenching pleasure. It really wasn't going to take long for him to come, and within minutes Angel was thrusting uncontrollably into the welcoming tunnel of flesh that surrounded him, his voice incoherent and babbling a continuous stream of "please" and "more".
Opening his throat, Spike allowed Angel to fuck his mouth as he would, busily using his fingers, the pacifier and a rather neat silver rattle shaped like a dumbbell to get Angel used to having something up his ass. It really was amazing the stuff you could find in a warehouse full of baby supplies.
Angel rolled his head against the mattress and gasped for air, trying to come back to the present. His eyes flashed white, which in his current state of blindness he thought might be a good thing. Maybe his nerves just needed to be stimulated enough to start the healing process. When he squinted, he thought he could just about make out where the lights were on the warehouse ceiling, faint circles against a stark white background. He was so entranced by the shapes that he barely registered his legs being lifted into the air and a cool, wet pressure at his entrance.
Spike watched Angel's face closely as he lifted Angel's ass off the ground, letting it rest on his knees. He hadn't taken a man in years, and of course he hadn't done this to Angel since a drunken night in Switzerland late in the nineteenth century, but Spike knew what he was doing and, as he carefully let Angel's body surround his cock, he wondered why he'd denied himself the pleasure for so long.
The intense stretching of his body brought Angel's focus back to the present. He was in a Sunnydale warehouse being fucked by some random vamp. This had to be the stupidest things he'd done all month, but try as he might he couldn't regret it when his body was twisted up just *so* and his eyes flashed white again, sending a sharp cry from his lungs. It was frustrating to only hear panting breaths from his lover. Angel wanted desperately to hear his voice, or a moan or something, it just felt wrong to be the only one filling the air with the guttural sounds of sex.
Spike was feeling equally adrift. Not only was talking an essential part of his sexual repertoire, but he desperately wanted Angel to see him. Since the chip, it seemed that no one saw him as he really was, relegating him to a laughing stock or worse. Fucking, on the other hand, he could do and do well, with the chip or without. He could prove his potency, strip away the humiliation, make someone see him, care about him, and fucking well…Take…Notice.
"Holy shit!" All Angel could do was twist his hands around the cuffs and hang on for the ride as Spike punctuated his tumultuous thoughts with devastating thrust after devastating thrust. After coming so hard only minutes before, it should have been taking Angel longer to get close to the edge again, but there was his cock, bouncing against his belly and painting damp stripes on his, already sweat-drenched, skin.
The sight was enough to push Spike over into his orgasm. Grabbing the backs of Angel's legs, he bent over him, dropping his head as he pounded desperately into Angel's tight body, his entire being consumed in pursuit of his goal. And when it hit, it was the sweetest one in years, making his toes curl and his skin sing, his throat burning as he tried to vocalize his pleasure.
Slumping forward into the cradle of Angel's thighs, Spike let the feelings wash over him; satisfaction, satiation, even a touch of fondness and gratitude, though the threat of a holy water enema wouldn't make him admit it. The seconds ticked past as his breathing slowed and finally stopped. His eyes were just drifting shut when a pointed cough interrupted his post coital lethargy.
"Um. Do you think you could help me out here. Or at least release my hands so I can do it myself?"
It was only then that Spike realized Angel's rampant erection was still poking at him. Bugger, the old man hadn't come.
Spike knew Angel well enough that even a good sucking off wouldn't be enough to make him come a second time, only an honest to god fuck would get rid of the giant erection pressed between their bodies.
Digging around in Angel's bag for a second, Spike found the key and let Angel's hands out of the cuffs.
"Thanks," Angel said, rolling his shoulders to loosen them up and then added, "Um, so, now what?" as he strained to see the body in front of him. When a smooth bottle was shoved into his hand, he laughed. "Well, that's a plan."
Feeling blindly, Angel rolled over until he was on his knees and, once he figured out that the other vampire was already on his knees, opened the bottle and poured some of the oil over his fingers, biting back a cough as the baby fresh scent hit his nose. It had been a long time since he associated the smell of babies with sex, but then tonight, everything old was new again.
He reached out and was suddenly struck but a sense of déjà vu. The hip under his hand was slim, to the point of skinniness, and fit into his palm like it had been made specifically for it. Fifty years ago and he would have known exactly who it was he was fucking.
A shove backwards suggested he should get on with it and, working entirely by touch, Angel ensured his lover was well slicked up, before entering with a single deep thrust. He groaned as his cock was captured and gripped in a silken glove of flesh. Christ, whoever the vamp was, he was tight, and Angel had been hovering for so long this was going to be over almost unseemly fast unless he took a moment to regain control.
Spike pounded his fist into the mattress as Angel pushed into him and then stopped. The bastard always was a tease but this went beyond the pale. Without his voice, Spike couldn't even tell him to move, or beg - not that he ever did, of course.
When Angel did finally deign to get started, he went far too slowly for Spike's liking, so Spike wriggled back against him, trying to drop the hint that harder and faster would be good.
"Oh, Christ! Hang on. If you do that again, it's gonna be all over in seconds," Angel's panting words came from behind him along with a sharp slap to his hip, and Spike did his best not to react. The simple fact that Angel gave a damn about whether his partner was enjoying it made a pleasant enough change that he wasn't going to force the issue. For the moment. Of course if the ponce didn't pick it up soon, it was entirely possible Spike would have to resort to stronger measures.
Taking a slow breath in as he started to move, Angel exhaled quickly when the muscles enveloping his cock clenched. He squeezed at the vamp's hips, trying to stop him from rocking.
"Please, don't rush," Angel coughed out as the pressure built in his balls.
The waiting was killing Spike. He tried fumbling with his dick for a moment, but it wasn't near ready to come back to life yet, so instead he pinched at his nipples though his shirt. When that didn't work he decided it was time to force Angel into some hard and fast fucking, even if it meant it only lasted a minute, he'd at least get a few seconds of pleasure out of it. He leaned forward, forcing Angel to pull out a bit, and then thrust back hard. On his second attempt, Angel put a painful grip on his ribs and tried to still him again.
"Oh, for fuck's sake Angel, would you just shove it in."
Angel's hands flew from the body in front of his as that familiar voice rang in his ears.
Silence. And a complete lack of movement for several seconds. Then, "Bugger. Yeah, s'me. Now for god's sake just get on with the fucking and we can fight about it after, okay?"
Torn between complying with his body's urges and the knowledge that he was inside the vampire who had stuck him full of hot pokers a few short months before, Angel vacillated unable to either continue or stop completely.
God, the neediness in that voice would always be his undoing. Angel took a deep breath and began thrusting slowly and steadily; the shock of discovering his partner's identity enough to put him firmly back in the driver's seat. Spike moved with him, quickly finding the rhythm they both knew so well. Not that he was beyond pushing things, but each time he tried, Angel brought his hand down firmly to halt the behavior before it started.
This was obviously Angel's revenge for the pokers, Spike rapidly decided, as he was held firmly in place and punished for chivvying Angel along. From experience he knew Angel could go for hours like this, reducing Spike to a quivering supplicating mass before he was through.
In the vain hopes of derailing that train of thought, Spike said between gasps that were already being forced from his mouth, "Reckon you'll be wanting to find the Slayer after, so let's just move this along."
Angel stopped moving and Spike craned his neck to take a peek at the old man's face. What he saw did not fill him with confidence; there was something about the lips that looked horribly reminiscent of Angelus.
"Oh, I don't think there's any hurry, Spike. If your voice is back the chances are Buffy is doing fine without my help. And, seeing as how the sun will be up in half an hour, I'm stuck in Sunnydale for the day. By my calculations, that gives us over ten hours to fill."
"Fuck," Spike groaned, leaning his head forward against the mattress. He deserved it, but still, 'fuck' he thought again.
"Oh come on," Angel said, easing out before pressing forward equally slowly, "you love spending the day in warehouses with me, don't you? Maybe later I'll tie you up, it'll be like playing pin the tail on the Spike. I don't even have to be blindfolded."
"I could help..." Spike bit back the rest of the words floating through his brain. He was clearly incoherent at this point and shouldn't be trying to make deals while Angel was stuck eight inches up his ass.
"You could help what?" Angel gave one hard thrust, slamming into Spike's prostate, smiling as a shudder ran up his spine, sending his hips wriggling from side to side.
Spike took a short breath in and turned to stare at Angel. "If you took a drink, a *small* drink, it would be enough to get your eyeballs working again. Then you could go fuck off at the Slayer's for the day."
"William the Bloody is offering me his neck and his ass in the same day? Aren't I the lucky one?" Angel slammed into Spike once again, and laughed as the sound of the mattress crinkling under Spike's fingers echoed through the warehouse. There was no way in hell the offer could be genuine; Spike would turn on him the second he let his defenses down. On the other hand…
Angel stopped moving again and Spike cursed him long and loud. When the words finally stuttered to a stop, Angel said, "Why did you help me? It can't be any sense of loyalty, because we all know exactly where you stand on that one. So, why?"
Confronted by Solomon's choice, Spike went with the least offensive option and lied. "Didn't want any stray demons seeing you all injured and deciding to take you out. If anyone's gonna do that, it'll be me. Owe you one, or several, depending on how you look at it."
That didn't explain why Spike hadn't staked him the minute they were off the streets, and there was something in his voice that suggested to Angel that there was more to this than he was saying, but the reason was good enough for now. He still couldn't trust Spike, but he was prepared to take up his offer.
Reaching forwards, Angel grasped Spike's shoulder and yanked him up and back so he was virtually sitting in his lap. The new angle sent a new wave of shivers through Spike's body, and as he tried to move, desperate to keep the friction going, Angel bit down on his neck, easily tearing through the skin just enough to send a small mouthful of blood coursing over his tongue.
The fierce sounds of suckling at his neck were enough to bring Spike's demon to the fore and he felt his entire body tense, the muscles in his thighs and ass constricting as the rush of power traveled down his body, curling his toes. His body tensing around Angel's and his blood flowing deep down Angel's throat excited Spike's every nerve to the point of bursting.
After several moments of slow movement and having his fill of Spike, Angel pushed him forward once again. As soon as he felt Spike regain his balance and lock his elbows into place, Angel started a furious pace, wrenching near screams from Spike's throat as he repeatedly slammed inside, making them both quiver. He reached a hand underneath Spike and started stroking his cock in long hard pulls, bringing the organ back to life.
"Don't bother," Spike growled, "it'll take forever and I want to hear you scream now."
Angel blinked his eyes several times, willing them to work, after another minute he finally started seeing enough to know that the sun was coming in under the large warehouse doors.
"I'll scream, don't worry, but like I said, we've got all day."
He blinked again and this time his eyes came into focus just in time to see the exultant smile spreading over Spike's face.