Pairing: Spike/Puppet!Angel
Summary: There is a special place in hell for those who write Puppet Porn, my bunk is being prepared as we speak.
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"So, this is what, going on day three for you right?"
"Get out, Spike."
Spike stepped all the way inside Angel's office, closing the door behind him. Eyeing Angel through the window had been too much to resist. Seeing him at his desk, propped up on a couple pillows, four felt fingers covering his eyes, constantly looking down the front of his trousers and then shaking his head, Spike couldn't help but pop his head in.
"Don't be like that Angel, it doesn't suit you to be all grouchy, leave that to the professional puppets." Spike laughed and threw himself into a chair, throwing his feet up on Angel's desk.
"Just leave me alone." Angel whined.
"Come on, I know what's it's like."
"What are you talking about?" Angel yelled, jumping up to standing on his chair, waving his little felt fingers in the air as he spoke, "you have no idea what it's like! You are a moron!"
Spike made no attempt to curb his laughter when Angel futilely tried to unbutton the collar of his shirt in exasperation.
"Shut up!" Angel yelled again.
"Hey, didn't Wesley tell you to control your temper? No one wants to see the boss man all riled up."
"That's it, you're dead," Angel launched himself through the air, expecting the force of his impact to knock Spike and the chair end over end. Unfortunately for him and his cotton ass Spike put his forearm out just as Angel was about to make contact, with a little twist of his wrist Spike was able to change Angel's trajectory and send him flying against the glass with a comically quiet thump.
"Sorry, were you talking to me?" Spike asked, absently fidgeting with his nails as Angel picked himself off the ground.
Angel stalked back across the room, pulling down at his shrunken clothes as he went.
"You," he said, pointing at Spike once he was by the chair, "are going to get out of my office right now."
Spike reached a hand out and tussled Angel's hair, "You know Fred's right, you really are just the cutest thing."
Angel grabbed onto his hand and pulled hard, flipping his legs up onto Spike's lap, twisting Spike's arm as he went.
"Ouch," Spike said through tears of laughter, "you don't have to be so rough, I mean you're such a softy at heart." Spike poked Angel in the chest with his other hand.
"Ohhh," Angel squeaked, his grasp on Spike's arm relaxing a bit.
"What's the matter with you?"
"Nothing," he pouted jumping off of Spike's lap and onto the table. "I'm just a little sensitive. You know feelings are a special thing."
"Oh god, you aren't going to start singing again are you, because if you do I'm getting Lorne." Spike started to stand up, but stood back down when Angel kicked him in the thigh.
"Just sit."
"Want me to go, want me to stay. You really are made of fluff aren't you."
Angel made a horrid moaning sound and threw himself back on the desk, tiny hands fanning his forehead.
"Fuck Angel, you're like Drama Queen Barbie, only without the nice rack and perfectly sculpted ass."
"Why did I have to go into the Don't Room," Angel groaned.
"Cause you're a stupid git?" Spike answered eagerly.
"I don't think I'm a bad person..."
"Puppet," Spike corrected.
"Fine, puppet, whatever. I don't deserve this," he sat up, almost eye to eye with Spike, "I could have had a date tonight."
"Oh, pouty lips, real cute," Spike said, "on second thought, do you even have lips?"
"Acckkk," Angel howled again.
Angel slid off the desk, dangling his tiny legs over the edge while he inched towards the carpet.
Spike couldn't help but put his hands on Angel's hips and help him down like a person might help a child out of a booster seat.
Once Angel's feet hit the ground he marched to the elevator in the back of his office and started jumping up trying to hit the call button. After several attempts he stopped jumping, resting his head on the wall, hands raised above his head, inches below his target and let out a long sigh.
"Need some help mate?"
"Yes, please," Angel answered without looking at Spike.
"Please huh, can't resist that." He stood up and pressed the button.
"Manners are just one way of saying that you think people are special."
"Think I liked you better when you were just trying to beat me up," Spike muttered to himself.
The elevator doors opened and Angel marched inside. "Yeah well give me a few days," he said as the doors were shutting.
Spike had only made it a few steps when the doors chimed open again. He turned just in time to see Angel again jumping up and down.
"That's what you get for living on the top floor," Spike chuckled.
"Spike," Angel growled.
"Fine." Spike stepped inside the elevator, pushing the button for the penthouse, "Never woulda bothered coming in to mock yer pain if I'd known I was gonna end up playing babysitter."
"Not my idea of a good time either."
They stood in silence as the elevator ascended to the top.
Once outside his apartment Angel tried to turn the knob, but his hands ineffectually slid over the smooth metal knob.
"Right," Spike said, opening the door. He almost left, but then a thought occurred to him. "So what was all that staring at your willy earlier about?"
"Go away," Angel tried to slam the door in Spike's face, but Spike stuck his foot out just in time to catch the door.
"Who else ya gonna tell?" Spike asked, stepping over the threshold and closing the door behind him.
"I'm not gonna tell anybody," Angel shouted, waving his arms in the air.
"Fine, relax or you're gonna bust outta yer stitching."
"Why are you still here?" Angel asked as he struggled to climb onto the overstuffed couch.
"Mostly because I find it amusing."
"I am not here for your amusement."
"You're a bloody puppet, that's exactly what you're here for." Spike sat down on the couch next to Angel, laughter consuming him as Angel bounced in the air as the air shifted through the cushions. "Come on now, lemme pull your strings."
Angel punched at Spike's arm, but was again met with laughter.
"These clothes are really cute, Fred taking you shopping at Gap Kids?"
Angel ripped his jacket off, followed by his shirt and flung that at Spike.
"Better?" he yelled, turning his pale felt chest to Spike.
A look of understanding spread over Spike's face, almost enough to stifle his giggles.
Angel's nipples were little cotton nubs, and now that he was standing
still, Spike could see that the front of his trousers were hiding a puppet
sized erection.
"How long's that been going on?" Spike asked, staring in fascination.
"The whole time!" Angel yelled, "I'm a puppet, I'm a happy puppet. Really fucking happy!"
He collapsed onto Spike's lap, resting his head against his shoulder. "I need a hug."
"Angel, man, this is getting a little creepy."
"Sorry," Angel said, making no move to get off of Spike. "A good friend is always willing to give a hug."
"We're not friends," Spike said, although the temptation to rub Angel's soft back was strong, he liked the feel of the material on the palm of his hand.
When he realized Spike was actually holding him, Angel tensed up. "What are you doing?"
"Just thinking it's been a while since I got felt up."
Angel just groaned at the pun and nuzzled against Spike's neck.
"So no sign of turning back right away, huh?"
"Nope."
"And that's not gonna take care of itself."
"Nope."
"And if you tell anyone that I partook in Puppetphilia I'll make sure no one ever knows you were anatomically correct."
"Yep."
Spike undid the tiny buttons on Angel's trousers, barely keeping his laughter in check as bright red felt popped out from Angel's lap.
"Shut up," Angel warned.
"Didn't say a word," Spike said, unzipping his jeans and pulling his cock out.
Angel crawled into the corner of the couch, leaning against Spike's arm, slow moans escaping his lips as Spike rubbed at the material that now made up his cock. After a several moments of enjoying his own pleasure Angel remembered his manners and grasped Spike's erection in both of his hands, forcing Spike to jerk his hips up, nearly sending Angel flying.
"Careful," Angel said, settling back into a comfortable position.
"Sorry, just wasn't expecting them to have so much texture," Spike breathed out, his eyes rolling in his head.
In only a few short strokes Angel had Spike squealing under his touch, and writhing as he worked his hands over Spike's length. The closer Spike got to his completion the harder he squeezed on Angel's tiny cock. With a final twist Angel brought Spike to completion and bringing a wet shower down over his entire body. As Spike's orgasm took over his body he yanked on Angel's cock even harder, forcing a stream of ecstatic moans from the puppet's mouth. As his screams got louder Angel shot a cloud of cotton out into Spike's hands.
"Okay, that was gross," Spike said, staring at the fluff that filled his hands.
"You think that was gross?" Angel groaned out in a defeated voice, "I'm not washable."
End