Rating: NC-17
Summary: Written for Saraslash, the evil woman requested Spike/Angel
and
schmoopy. Also frottage ;) Falling Into Place was the result.
Spoilers: Set in a generic (ie, spoiler-free except the obvious
one) Angel
season 5.
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money, don't sue
Distribution: www.subtle-salvation.com, www.allaboutspike.com,
anywhere
else, just ask.
Feedback: Craved like the slut-thing I am
A/N: Huge thanks to Estepheia who whipped this into shape.
Complete with
reconstructing the ending after a computer malfunction.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Course not. Very wrong. Just move a little—yeah, god, yeah.”
“No, I mean—fuck!—we shouldn’t—”
“Heard it the first time, Angel. Shouldn’t be bumpin’ uglies together. I get it.”
Said uglies bumped a little harder at the defeated tone of Spike’s voice.
“They’re starting to talk. At—there—the office.”
“When’ve we ever cared ’bout people talkin’?”
“Spike. You know it’s different now.”
“Know you talk a whole lot more.”
The sharp hint of anger, acrid and bitter, had Angel shifting them so that he was on top, grinding down into Spike’s naked form. Eyes hidden by stubby lashes fixed onto his shoulder.
“Don’t wanna stop. Glad you—glad you’re here.”
“Yeah?” Dissembled sniff, and a roll that Angelus had always adored. “Me too.”
“Good.”
But it wasn’t over. Still too skinny and raw from the second death they never talked about, Spike’s body moved on autopilot, mindlessly rubbing against Angel’s to bring them both off.
The mythic vampire stamina wasn’t always a good thing, when both were tired and aching from the latest evil-doer. Sometimes it would be nice to just let themselves release and drift off to the nightmares that awaited both. Angel wanted to speed up his pace, wanted to give Spike that tiny moment of peace before reality set back in. But he didn’t. He’d hurt Spike more, if he tried.
“So heavy. Missed that.”
Angel bit lightly on Spike’s exposed neck, feeling the jump against his cock. Spike had always been so nicely submissive. . . once Angelus beat him enough.
But they didn’t talk about that. Didn’t think about it, even though it colored everything about their new lives together.
“More—there, yeah. Right there. Please.”
So soft and breathy, Angel’s mussed hair swaying slightly in the exhalation. It wasn’t a plea for what Angel was doing, he knew that. It was what Angel could give him.
After all, he’d learned that for himself, years ago. And when he saw the last girl silently leave Spike’s room, pouting and sullen, he’d slipped inside. Flattened an unresisting Spike against the bed, naked bodies thrusting and writhing together.
It’d become a nightly ritual. If they weren’t too injured, of course. If they even came home.
“Please.”
Angel hummed around the skin still between his teeth, wishing he could offer more than this. Wishing he knew what to offer. Because Spike wasn’t like him, even though he too suffered the weight of his crimes with bent, heavy shoulders.
“So who’s talkin’?”
“Hm?” Angel let go to start licking and kissing along the reddened skin. Too bad it wouldn’t last very long; Spike looked good marked.
“’Bout us.”
“Oh, Fred. I think she said something to Gunn. . . he was looking at me funny, yesterday.”
“Wes cornered me last week.” Spike shifted again, his breath the harsh sound of surf colliding against the beach. “Thought we were supposed to be stealthy, yeah? Vampire’s an’ all.”
Their smiles were glimmers in the stuffy room. “Looks like we’ll need more training.”
Spike leered then, pushing his arms flat against the bed for leverage as he moved with more and more force. ‘Training’ was what had brought this about in the first place, their need to beat out grief and pain turning into something more.
“You’re beautiful.”
The leer disappeared instantly, replaced with something smaller and more aching. A real smile instead of the parodies of what Spike used to be.
Angel would do anything to see that smile. No matter how much he hurt, every time he saw it.
“You care?”
“Hm?”
“’Bout them talkin’.”
Angel tried not to blink in the darkness, knowing Spike would see it. “Um. . . should I?”
“Not what I asked, then, is it.”
A single note of vulnerability meant Angel should answer this, and soon. “Of course I don’t,” he said neutrally. Well, as neutrally as possible when Spike moved like that and the need for orgasm built tantalizingly higher. “Do you?”
“They’re your friends.”
“That’s not what I asked you, Spike.” How come he got to sound foreboding, instead of sullen and bratty like Spike had? Sometimes he wanted to be the sullen, bratty one.
“No,” Spike replied, grinning contentedly. “S’not.” And then Angel was on his back, Spike writhing like a snake above him. Their cocks were pressed together, close enough that he couldn’t distinguish whose was whose, rubbing on hard muscle and wiry curls while Spike whispered hot promises of all the dirty things they’d do together. Over and over images from a deeply twisted, sensual mind assaulted him until—
“Spike!”
He kept his hips moving until he felt the lukewarm gush of Spike’s release. Basking in his afterglow, he didn’t object when Spike rolled to his feet and snagged the cloth waiting at the side of the bed. Once they were both clean, Angel settled deeper into his bed, hoping that maybe this time the dreams would be kept at bay.
The snick of a lighter brought him fully awake.
“Spike?” Illuminated by moonlight, Spike’s naked back looked like the Greek statuary Dru had compared him to, begging her Daddy to let her keep her new boy. A curl of smoke rose up into the air. “Spike, what are you doing?”
“Havin’ a smoke, what’s it look like?”
Angel slipped naked out of bed and padded over to stand beside him. “You never smoke here after sex.”
“What? S’best time to smoke, after sex. When the nicotine hits hardest.”
“Yes. But you never smoke here after sex.”
“No, I go back to my room cross the hall, after sex. So your precious humans don’t know I’ve been in here. With you.”
Reaching down, Angel took the butt from Spike’s fingers. Didn’t grind it out, the way Spike’s expression clearly expected, but instead took a deep drag. Hot, gritty smoke filled his lungs, familiar and oddly satisfying. Their hands brushed as he passed it back.
“You’re really not gonna lie to ’em?” A creature well over a century old shouldn’t sound like a lost little boy.
Pivoting on his heel, Angel walked out of his bedroom and down to the end of the hall. “Hey.”
Gunn and Wesley were surrounded by a pile of weapons, rags full of cleaning solutions in their hands. They stared at Angel’s naked body but didn’t otherwise react.
“Spike and I are together now. Okay?”
They nodded.
“Okay. Think we can work it into the next staff meeting? I’ll tell Fred and Lorne personally.”
“Uh, Angel?” The two humans exchanged looks before Gunn continued with, “We all knew.”
“Yeah. Next staff meeting.”
Spike was hogging the covers when Angel got back.
The End