DISTRIBUTION: Anywhere I post. Anywhere
I already said 'yes' to.
Anyone else just let me know and I'll gladly let you have it... I
even gift wrap at no extra charge!
PAIRING: Angel / Spike implied.
RATING: NC-17 for sexual content and language.
POV: Mainly Spike's, with a bit of Angel at the end!
SUMMARY: Spike thinks that working for
W&H is bad for Angel,
and decides to send him a very explicit memo to that effect.
NOTES:
Just as I thought I could blow the dust of a few long-
neglected WIPs, this rabid plot bunny sank its fangs into my ankle
and refused to let go. And you can't ignore the bunnies…! The
stimulus? There seem to have quite a few mentions in recent fics, of
W&H's security systems. This is my take on how they might best
be
utilised…<g>
SPOILERS: Early AtS Season 5, but not
too much as I haven't
seen it yet! (Apologies if I've taken any liberties with canon, I've
had to fill in a few blanks for myself.)
DISCLAIMER: My story but no, I don't
own them. If I did, they'd
spend more time naked! All owned by a wonderful genius named Joss who
should be encouraged to rethink their clothing situation. I get
nothing from writing this, apart from a warm fluffy feeling… Some
lyrics from the Aerosmith song have been abused, but no harm was
intended!
FEEDBACK: Yes, please! Craved second only
to oxygen and
chocolate.
DEDICATION: To Michelle, beta extraordinaire
for taking a look at
this one without the aid of a blindfold or a safety net! I *promise*
I'll get back to a certain fic with inflatable goodness as soon as
I
can. Blame Spike - I do!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Spike was bored.
He lay on the bed in Angel's apartment above Wolfram & Hart, and
drummed his heels on the mattress, staring restlessly at the ceiling
and contemplating his life in LA to date.
Being non-corporeal had sucked, that much Spike was sure of. He
thought of himself as a very physical creature, and not being able
to
touch anything had just about driven him insane with frustration. He
hadn't even been able to touch *himself* without a great deal of
concentration, and pretty much everything he'd wanted to do that
involved touching himself tended to end in him being unable to count
beyond two, much less being able to concentrate on the job in hand…
so to speak.
In fact, the first thing he'd done when Fred had made him corporeal
again was… well, the *first* thing he'd done had been Harmony, but
a
passing pot-plant would have sufficed, he'd been so desperate to get
off. After that though, Spike had spent many hours tucked away in
Angel's apartment, watching porn DVDs and basically wanking himself
stupid!
But now he was bored. Not that he wasn't grateful to be able to
interact with the world once again, but the initial thrill had worn
off, and Spike was itching for something to do.
He switched on the television and channel surfed for a while, before
sticking in one of the aforementioned DVDs that he'd managed to
acquire through various means. Settling back onto some of Angel's
poofy cushion, he started to watch two guys and a girl go through the
obligatory motions.
Spike absently rubbed the front of his jeans as the seventeen seconds
of plot passed and it got onto the good stuff. She did them. They did
her. Then they did each other… Hmm, that was new. A fleeting thought
of Angel snapped through Spike's subconscious, and suddenly he
decided that he was bored already and stabbed angrily at the remote.
The room returned to its former silence and Spike returned to
drumming his heels irritably on the mattress.
And what was it with Angel? The guy spent every waking hour plus a
few more besides working himself into an early pile of dust for an
evil company that was once his archenemy. And did it make him any
happier? Any less brooding? Any less of a tosser? Did it bollocks!
The fact that he even *cared* about Angel's well being only served to
piss Spike off even more. 'Fuck! I can't even have a decent wank
without that tosspot putting me off,' he fumed out loud. Especially
as carrying on that particular activity *after* Angel had surfaced
in
his head would make it seem like he was getting off on the thought
of
his brooding sire, although this was a thought that Spike chose not
to acknowledge.
Not that he didn't suspect Angel of being interested in *him* though.
He'd seen the guy checking out his undeniably delicious self on more
than one occasion, and it wasn't like there'd never been any of that
sort of thing in the past - they were vampires for crying out loud.
Yep, as far as Spike was concerned, Angel just needed to spend less
time working, much less time brooding, and more time having fun. And
if that involved appreciative glances at Spike's denim-clad arse,
then who was he to complain. Damn, that man needed to get laid…
Considering the mental debate over, Spike rolled over and reached
onto the floor for the stereo remote. Hitting 'play', he was treated
to a blast of Aerosmith, a classic that had him tapping his fingers
and singing along at the top of his voice. God! He loved rock music!
It made him feel so… alive.
Newly energised, Spike decided that he'd had enough of just hanging
around Angel's apartment and being bored. Swinging his legs off the
bed, he went over to the elevator and jabbed the 'down' button, still
humming to himself as he stepped inside and selected a previously
unexplored floor of the immense Wolfram and Hart building.
~~~~~~~~
A good while later, having wandered several floors, he found himself
in a corridor that was, well, just like every other corridor in the
damn place; soft carpet, discreet lighting, chrome and glass.
Fortunately it was already after sundown because, necro-tempered or
not, such expanses of sunlight still unnerved Spike's demon. There
were noticeably less people around on this floor, but Spike wasn't
sure if that was because of its location, or because it was now
outside of the office hours that some, if not all, of Wolfram &
Hart's employees kept to.
He opened a couple of doors that led to empty offices, a couple that
led to various store rooms. Then he came to one that was slightly
ajar. Spike approached silently, not exactly sure what he might find
on the other side, but knowing enough about the company to be damn
sure that he didn't want to go surprising any occupants unnecessarily.
Hearing nothing that suggested imminent danger, Spike pushed the door
further open and peered inside, revealing banks of monitors, machines
and buttons that comprised the highest-tech security system that
money could buy - in any dimension. His eyes scanned the rows of
screens, and Spike found himself instantly transported into just
about every room that the Wolfram & Hart building had to offer.
There
was Fred's lab, Wesley's office and Gunn's office; all empty.
Conference rooms, corridors, elevators, and rooms that Spike couldn't
even identify.
He quickly searched for the monitor that would show him Angel's
office. Unsurprisingly, the great hair-gelled one was still poring
over piles of paperwork. Spike rolled his eyes in disgust, but noted
that the system's resolution was so good that he could practically
read the print on the contracts that Angel was glued to.
And what was all this high-tech computer wizardry was manned by? A
pack of flesh-eating demons? An eight-armed leviathan? No, a middle-
aged night watchman, who was currently dozing under yesterday's
newspaper. Spike would have laughed out loud if it wasn't so…
Wait! Something was tickling the inside of his brain. Random thoughts
were trying to connect and tell him something: Watching DVDs… An
elevator… Angel's brooding… Security cameras… Something about music…
Spike could practically *feel* the neurons firing across his mental
synapses.
Suddenly it all fell into place, and there it was: An idea!
No, not *just* an idea - a fucking fantastic idea! In fact, If Spike
had been a cartoon character, a light bulb would have come on over
his head! That's how fantastic an idea it was. He chuckled out loud
at his own brilliance, which roused the sleeping watchman.
'Wha? Huh?' he groaned sleepily, folding the paper and stretching out
in his chair. As he turned back to the monitors, he suddenly caught
sight of Spike leaning nonchalantly against the doorjamb and
immediately snapped out of his reverie.
'Oh, Mr Spike. Didn't see you there for a minute, what with the
whole 'you not reflecting' thing,' he gestured in front of
him, 'otherwise, y'know, in the monitors, I would of… Anyway, what
brings you up here?' the man tried to loosen his collar, fear coming
off him in waves. 'There's not a problem is there? 'Cause, I swear,
I
only closed my eyes for a seconds, I've been up here all…'
'Take it easy,' Spike cut into the babble, fearing it could have gone
on all night. 'I'm not here about work. Don't bother me none if you
wanna have a nap. If I were you I'd get a mattress up here and do it
properly.'
He grinned at the startled man in what he hoped was a companionable
fashion, but the look on his face told Spike that it might have come
out as more predatory that anything else. Not that it mattered; a
healthy dose of fear would probably help to serve his purpose. He
entered the room slowly, pulled up a chair and sat down next to the
human, who, for his part, only backed away slightly.
'These monitors,' began the vampire, 'can you record from them? I
mean, can you put what they're showing onto tape or something?'
'Sure, that's no problem at all. It's all backed up onto the computer
anyway, but if you want a separate recording, you just pop a disc in
here,' he indicated on one of the machines, 'press 'record' and away
you go. Simple.'
'Brilliant! Now, I just need you to do me a small favour.' Spike
employed the grin again, and the night watchman smiled back nervously.
~~~~~~~~
A half empty bottle of Jack Daniels was clutched tightly in his black-
tipped fingers as Spike made his way back up to the security room.
A
bit of Dutch courage was definitely called for at this point. The
room was now empty, the watchman having been paid with a fifty
(stolen from Angel - the ponce would thank him in the end) to go for
a 'coffee break' for twenty minutes.
Spike first made sure he had the right machine, then he turned on the
sound feed that the man had been kind enough to show him, slipped in
the disc and pressed 'record'. So far so good…
Pelting his way, slightly unsteadily, back down the corridor, he
skidded to a halt outside the elevator doors and punched the 'call'
button. A memorable guitar riff played in his head and he laughed out
loud. As a bell 'ting-ed', signalling the elevator's arrival, he took
a final swig of Jack, stuck the bottle behind a plant and stepped
through the open doors.
Spike pushed the button marked 'G', and as the doors swished closed,
he couldn't help but look up at the camera. He raised one eyebrow
suggestively and said in a breathy voice, 'Second floor: hardware,
children's ware, lady's lingerie. Oh, good morning Mr Angel. Going…
down?' Then he cracked up, laughing helplessly at his own
ridiculousness. Once the elevator was satisfactorily between floors,
he hit the emergency stop button and it juddered to a halt.
Okay, now the fun really starts, he thought to himself.
'Hey, Peaches,' Spike addressed the camera once again. 'I know you'll
watch this, 'cause your curiosity will get the better of you. I also
know that you'll probably approach it like one of your endless cases,
so if you *are* sitting there with Wesley or Lorne, now'd be the time
to get rid of them… well, maybe not Lorne…' He smiled a moment at the
thought of the camp green demon watching what he was about to do.
Then he continued.
'Anyway, I'm doing this 'cause basically I know you better than
anyone else ever has - or ever will, Angel. And just because you're
my sire, doesn't mean that you always know best. So it's time for you
to stop playing at being human, with your office and your paperwork,
and get back to what you - *we* - do best. We're vampires, Pet, and
you'd do well to remember that sometimes. But if you need reminding
of what that really means to creatures like us, I'm here to give you
a few pointers. I may not be so good with the words, but I sure as
hell can *show* you what I mean…'
Summoning up every ounce of courage and daring that he'd ever had,
Spike began by shrugging off his duster. The leather pooled around
his feet and he kicked it carefully away into the opposite corner.
Keeping eye contact with the camera, he untucked his tight, black t-
shirt and began running his hands underneath it, feeling his skin
begin to tingle in anticipation.
Then he moved one hand lower, ghosting the lightest of touches over
his crotch. The feeling of contact, coupled with the knowledge that
he was being watched, quickly began to arouse him, making his jeans
noticeable tighter.
'Hey, I'm thinking about you here, Angel. Thinking about your hands
on my body, touching me, rubbing me…'
Wrapping his arms sensuously around himself, Spike pulled the t-shirt
up over his head and it joined his duster in the corner. Naked from
the waist up, he knew that there was absolutely no going back now,
so
he might as well enjoy it. His hands slipped slowly across his chest,
flat palms grazing sensitive nipples, making him draw in a sharp
breath at the sensation as he imagined Angel's hands were there
instead. The fingers of one hand pinched the deliciously swollen
flesh, while the other snaked back down between his legs, rubbing the
growing hardness until Spike was more turned on than he would have
thought possible, given his location.
Propped in the back corner of the elevator, opposite the camera,
Spike began to moan softly, his head dropping back to rest against
the cool glass interior, as he continued his performance. He had
hoped to draw the whole thing out and give Angel a really good show,
but already he found himself reaching for the button fly of his
jeans, desperate for friction against his painfully hard erection and
wishing more than anything that Angel's hands were unbuttoning him
then.
Remembering his audience once again, Spike stared up at the camera
through lowered lashes, pouting slightly as he slowly, deliberately
popped the buttons of his jeans.
One. By. One…
Already riding low on his hips, Spike's jeans slipped down further,
exposing first more alabaster skin, then a thatch of dark curls,
before they finally slithered to the floor. He kicked them too into
the corner, taking his boots with them.
Then he was standing there, in the elevator, stark bollock naked.
When Angel watched this, Spike just knew that he would be
thinking 'no… he wouldn't…' and so he simply gazed into the camera
lens and raised one eyebrow with a knowing grin that said 'yep, I
would, and I am, so hang onto your hat, mate!'
Far from feeling self conscious about being in a stalled elevator
wearing nothing but a smile and a hard-on, Spike found that the
situation excited him more than anything. He began to run his hands
over his body once again, his skin warmed by the whisky and intense
arousal.
'Mmmm. You have no idea how great this feels, Angel. Wish you did. In
fact I wish it was you doing this to me. Want to feel your hands
around my cock… your mouth… your arse…' And what would surprise Spike
the most when he came to reflect on his choice of words later, was
the fact that he wasn't even lying.
Finally, when he couldn't take the self-induced teasing any more, he
took hold of himself and began to stroke his shaft in long, slow
movements, savouring every touch after such a protracted build up.
Despite doing this for the camera, Spike couldn't help but close his
eyes in the bliss of self-pleasure. The familiar feelings of
excitement and arousal continued to build inside him as he stroked
himself, getting faster and harder as he neared completion. He was
breathing hard now, desperate to hold on for as long as he could.
'Oh, yes! Oh, fuck, that feels good!' he whispered, not caring if it
was loud enough to be heard or not.
Without thinking, he lifted one leg and placed it on the hand rail
that ran around the inside of the elevator, supporting himself in his
need to crumple to the floor in ecstasy and also giving the camera,
and effectively, Angel, a view that was extremely erotic.
Before he could even attempt to hold back any longer, Spike's orgasm
was upon him. He felt his entire being tense up as he gripped the
rail with his free hand to prevent himself from falling to the
ground, threw back his head and screamed out loud. He came hard and
fast, shooting his load across the plush carpet and the opposite
wall, stars buzzing around his head while he panted for unneeded
breath, nerve endings throbbing in time with a long-forgotten pulse
he no longer had.
He was fairly sure that he'd cried out Angel's name, too…
Not wanting to ruin the performance, he quickly managed to stand,
albeit on shaky legs, gather his clothes into his arms and push the
release button. The elevator jerked into motion once again. Spike
couldn't bring himself to look at the camera at they point.
Reaching into the pocket of his duster, Spike pulled out a cigarette,
his fingers still trembling. He managed to light it on the second
attempt and blew out a plume of very satisfied and much needed smoke.
The elevator 'ting-ed' again at its ground floor destination. Without
saying another word, Spike winked at the camera, blew Angel a kiss,
and stepped boldly out into the lobby.
Sadly, the camera was not positioned to capture the crowd of irate,
late-working Wolfram & Hart employees who'd been punching the
elevator's buttons for the last ten minutes, but it was able to pick
up Spike's exasperated voice declaring loudly, 'Hey! Naked vampire
walking here, people!' as he audaciously strode his way past them…
~~~~~~~~
Angel staggered up to his apartment in the early hours of the
morning; sore, dishevelled and more exhausted then he thought
possible from a night of strenuous paperwork.
'Jees,' he muttered out loud, 'I've slaughtered demon armies that
have taken less out of me than this job.'
He swept straight through his apartment to the bathroom, noting along
the way, the many items of evidence that pointed to Spike having
taken up residence there at some point during the last… Okay, Angel
couldn't remember *how* long it'd been since he was last up here and
he was far too tired to work it out. He was just praying that the
bleached menace had got his ass out of the apartment already, 'cause
Angel really wasn't in the mood to deal with him.
Stepping out of the shower fifteen minutes later, Angel felt almost
human again… metaphorically speaking. A soft, dark green towel was
wrapped around his waist as he rubbed at his hair with another. It
was only then that he saw the note addressed to him in the curving,
Victorian hand that his childe had never quite lost.
'From one demon to another. Watch first, then we'll talk. S. XXX'
Angel stood in the middle of his bedroom, turning the small disc over
in his fingers, thoughtfully. What's the worst that could happen, he
thought to himself. Then he shoved it decisively into the machine and
pressed 'play'.
Twenty minutes later, after Angel's much-needed second shower, the
vampire strode purposefully through the darkened corridors of Wolfram
& Hart.
He was well aware that finding Spike was going to be the easy part.
What he wanted to say to Spike, beyond 'thank you', was going to be
a
lot harder.
~~~~END~~~~