Rating: NC-17
Story Notes: Some spoilers from Seasons 2 and 5.
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Angel:
"I still think we should confront her," Fred said. She perched on the arm of Gunn's chair with her long, thin legs crossed at the knee and hooked at the ankle. Her doe-like eyes gazed at Angel imploringly. "She's lying to us outright. I think Eve should know we know that."
Just as Gunn opened his mouth to comment, the doors flew open for the second time that day and Spike barged into the office with a great deal of forward velocity. His long leather coat was wrapped all the way around his body yet he still hugged the fabric close to him, as though he were cold. Or as though he were concealing something.
"I need to speak to General Grumpy-Pants," he demanded, walking around behind Angel's desk. Staring at Gunn and Fred, he said, "alone. If you don't mind."
Fred blinked at him, still not quite accustomed to his brusque manner, then she slipped off Gunn's chair and started out of the office. Gunn hesitated a moment, squinting into Angel's eyes in that almost telepathic way he had. Without using words, he was asking if Angel really wanted to be left alone with Spike just then or if he'd rather Charles stuck around.
"We can continue this later," Angel told him. "I'll come by your office."
Gunn nodded slowly, then stood up, passing a critical gaze over Spike before he walked out and closed the office doors after him.
"That was rude," Angel snapped, glowering up at the blond irritably.
"Right, now THERE's something out of the ordinary," Spike returned and then he proceeded to stomp around the office looking behind the furniture.
"Did you lose something?" Angel inquired.
Spike said nothing, he just continued to search the room until he seemed satisfied they were really alone. Then he locked the door and returned to stand behind Angel's desk.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" the brunette said, turning his chair around so he was facing the younger vampire. He watched while Spike opened his leather coat and let it slip off his shoulders into a pile on the floor.
That was when the scent hit him like a wall of tumbling rocks. Lindsey. And not just his young, delicious-smelling skin, but his saliva-and his blood. Angel knew that scent very well, having spilled the young man's blood himself on several occasions.
Reaching up, Angel grabbed Spike's belt with his fingers and pulled the young one forward. "You did NOT kill Lindsey McDonald. Tell me you didn't."
"I didn't," Spike replied. His cheeks were flushed with exertion and his eyes glittered beautifully. "I have no desire to kill him, really."
"Good," Angel said distractedly. The scent of the human boy combined with Spike's always intoxicating aroma was making it hard for him to think straight. "Because . . . we don't do that anymore . . . ya know . . . kill people . . ."
"Yeah," Spike said, equally distracted. "Look, I need to be in your lap." He braced himself with his hands on the headrest, then climbed right on top of his sire, straddling him with ease in the big chair.
Angel couldn't help but let his senses take over. He sighed and pressed his nose into Spike's neck, inhaling deeply. Pushing that ever-present black t-shirt out of the way, he buried his face in the blond's sculpted chest and opened his mouth over the bare skin there. He was licking Spike's nipples before he even had time to think of doing it. Moaning with pleasure, he let his fangs protrude just a little and scraped that silky skin enough to get the blood flowing. It wasn't a bite, exactly, just a scratch . . . but it was enough to fill his wet, starving mouth with the delicious mixed flavors of his childe and that wicked little lawyer.
Spike held onto him tightly, his hips working in brazen, wanton circles, rubbing his straining cock against Angel's through the fabric of their trousers. He was nearly crazed with lust, Angel could tell. He'd been holding it in for a while. Turning the chair to face the desk again, he eased Spike toward it until his back was braced against the fine wood. Then he grabbed the young one's hips and lifted them toward his face until his teeth caught the tender flesh above his navel. That time, Angel bit-hard. He knew just what his childe wanted and he wasn't wrong. He never was. Spike groaned and his body tensed as Angel's fangs slid into him, nice and deep. Angel's fingers worked to get the belt off and the trouser buttons undone, then he pulled them roughly down over Spike's narrow hips, exposing his tense, bobbing erection.
Deep red, it was, and trembling with need. The swollen head leaked big heavy drops of pinkish lubricant that dripped in a slow course down the length of that gorgeous organ. Angel watched this for a moment, completely fascinated. He loved looking at Spike's cock. For some reason, that act alone had always given him a great deal of pleasure.
Full of starved impatience, Spike struggled against the desk until he was sitting on it, at which point he pulled his annoying trousers off all together. Then he reached for the arms of Angel's chair and rolled him forward until their mouths connected in a blistering kiss. Strong flavors of blood and salt filled Angel's mouth and he sucked Spike's lips-sucked them until he felt them plump and swell. His childe trembled against him, trying to negotiate a way to wriggle so he could rub his cock against Angel's belly again. For a moment, it was amusing to have that control over him, but that feeling didn't last long. Angel grabbed those hips again and dragged Spike into his lap, giving the young one the contact he craved.
Keep his eyes closed, Angel concentrated on the sensations. His mouth and nose were full of that delectable combination of Spike and Lindsey and he was only barely aware of the blond's fingers opening his own trousers. They were panting and pawing at each other, desperate for friction and connection. Once Spike had Angel's cock out, he grabbed it with the deft fingers of his left hand and held it snuggly against his own. They both groaned as the delicious rubbing began, soothing that deep burning itch of desire. They kissed so hard their teeth scraped together, gently shredding the skin inside their lips, making the blood flow fresh.
Angel felt his child shiver all through is body and then there was so much fluid everywhere between them . . . spurting and pulsing . . . soaking the front of his expensive Italian silk shirt. Angel didn't care. The orgasm was coming from somewhere deep in his gut and the sensations were incredible. He loved everything about that moment-the danger of being caught, the enveloping pleasure of Spike's knowing touch, the taste of his offspring and that naughty human boy all mixed up with the fact that he knew, with the utmost certainty, that they were being watched then-and also that they were being filmed.
All these things put together sent fireworks of delight through Angel's nerves and he moaned outloud as his orgasm rattled his body. But even as the intense tingling ebbed away, he could tell that one shattering pleasure spasm wasn't going to be enough. Not for either of them. Lindsey's scent had lit them both on fire for some reason and he and Spike had a lot more burning to do that night.
Mouths still mashed together in what had stopped being an ordinary kiss ages ago, Spike murmured into the slick saliva and blood between their lips. "Take me to your flat, peaches. I need you."
Angel never even looked at the papers stacked on his desk nor did he
bother to check the voicemail messages he knew had collected while he and
Spike were wrestling. He just grabbed his clothes, slapped them on, then
grabbed Spike and headed directly for the motor pool. When Harmony called
after them as they got in the elevator, he just waved at her and said he
was gone for the day.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Spike:
As soon as the lift doors closed, he threw his sire against the wall and smashed their lips together again. Spike just could not get enough of kissing that man. Not that he ever could, once they got going. Sighing, he rubbed his body against Angel's like a dog in heat and he couldn't help smiling when he felt the old boy's gorgeous cock rising again. He murmured in Angel's ear about the wicked things he wanted to do, chewing the tender lobe between words. When Angel's hands came around his hips in a hard vice grip, Spike almost came again, but somehow, some way, he got himself under control. He loved it when Angel handled him that way, all forceful and superior. Like big, bad daddy . . .
Bloody hell, he couldn't recall the last time he'd been so desperately, ravenously horny.
They stumbled into the car port still pawing each other and kissing. Angel dragged Spike along by the buckle end of his unhooked belt. The big lug didn't even have to look to see where his favorite ride was. He walked backward until his legs connected to the front bumper of the Viper and then he let go of his kissing captive only long enough for them to get into the vehicle.
"We should get a taxi," Spike panted. "I can't keep my hands off you." He shifted in the passenger seat, intending to climb right into Angel's lap for another round of bump and grind, but the older vampire grabbed his hips again and sat him down.
"Just wait, my boy," he said and his dark eyes flashed with lust and control. "We'll be home soon." He started the engine and pulled out of the car port, fishtailing into the street and off toward his flat.
Spike took some deep breaths to calm himself, but he wasn't having much luck. Resting his head back, he closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on anything but his gut-wrenching need to have sex with Angel. With his eyes closed, his internal focus shifted and his sense of smell ramped up. The human boy was all over him still . . . in his mouth . . . on his hands . . . all over his face and down his throat. He'd tasted so wonderful . . . sweet and musky like warm cherries and brandy . . . like fever and need and surrender. Spike's memory of the whole scene was so vivid, he felt like he was reliving it. The hot living blood on his tongue, the salt on the boy's skin, the tender pressure of his plump lips as they pressed against Spike's with so much force and urgency. He could still feel the fine knuckle bones of Lindsey's thumb as he sucked on it and then the soft scratch of chestnut colored stubble as it ground against Spike's lips in that manic, boiling kiss.
His cock ached and he groaned from the itching pain of it. His hands were in his half open trousers the next instant and then he was tingling all over as he pulled his cock, squeezed his loaded balls and rubbed the ache away with all the right strokes. He started to come just as Angel pulled up to a red light and when Spike arched his back with the first spasm, his sire leaned across to kiss him deeply. He felt like he was being consumed by his own carnality, swept away in it like in a current of churning mud. He chewed Angel's lips and pulled on his cock until the orgasm ran itself out and then he collapsed in the Viper's passenger seat again, gasping, trembling, wondering for the first time since he'd left the boy in that bar if he might be under some sort of spell.
Frowning, he looked over at Angel as his sire put the Viper in gear and gunned the engine at the green light.
"Do you think he did something to me?" Spike said. "Like . . . drugged me somehow?"
"You haven't even told me what happened, Spike," Angel said, all grouch and vinegar. "You just burst into my office, threw my colleagues out and jumped me. The only reason I know you were with Lindsey is because I can smell him all over you and taste him in your mouth." Turning into the side street that led to his flat, Angel idled the engine down as he pulled up to the driveway. Apparently, the clicker that opened the garage gate had fallen down beneath his seat because he was searching for it irritably. This added annoyance clearly compounded his frustration and made him extra bitchy when he spoke again. "Why the hell did you follow him, anyway? He could have killed you."
"Thought you were worried about ME killin' HIM," Spike murmured. His limbs were heavy from coming again so soon and he felt warm all over. Lovely. "Make up your mind, mate. Which of us gets the cranky?"
Finally locating the clicker, Angel pressed the little button and the garage gate slide open. He drove the Viper inside and went to his parking space in the corner. "I don't know what the hell I was thinking," he grumbled as he turned off the engine. "Get upstairs." With no further comment, Angel got out of the Viper and marched toward the car port lift. It took Spike a few minutes to get his legs moving again, but he followed the grumpy old boy soon enough.
The ride up to the third floor was short and they said nothing to each other for the duration of it. Angel stomped into the hall and up to the door of his flat, producing the keys to get in from out of his trouser pocket. Watching him do this simple action, reminded Spike of Lindsey McDonald's calling card and he reached into the pocket of his duster for it.
While Angel unlocked the door to his posh flat, Spike took the simple white card out and looked at it in the overhead light in the hallway. Just the boy's melodious androgynous name and a ten digit telephone number. Same area code as the one they were in now. Curiously, he held the card up to the light and squinted at it.
"Are you coming in?" Angel barked, sticking his head out into the hall. He glowered when he saw what Spike was doing and came out to grab the card away. "What's this?" Reading what was printed on it, the brunette grimaced. "He gave you this?"
"Didn't find it lyin' on the bloody sidewalk," Spike snarked, then he passed his sire in the hall and went into the dark flat. Angel came after him, closing the door with a hard click. He walked into the spacious kitchen and turned the track lights on, illuminating the stark white room brightly. Holding the card up to one of the light bulbs, Angel tilted it up and down. "It's watermarked," he said softly, more to himself than to his companion.
"Yeah," Spike replied. "Squiggly lines inside the paper. Looks a might Celtic."
"I've seen this," the brunette said unhappily. "Through his sweater. I saw marks like these on his chest."
"Oh, get you, Supervamp," the blond teased. "Using your X-ray vision to see through the boy's clothes." He walked up behind Angel and smacked his firm ass playfully. "Why didn't you just have him drop trou and grab his ankles right in the middle of your office. Save on all this hemmin' and hawwin'. Got any vodka left?" He opened the freezer and frowned into it, then he spied the half full bottle of Ketle One he'd brought 'round the other night. "Brilliant." Taking the bottle with him, Spike went into the vast livingroom and grabbed himself a glass from the bar.
Angel turned off the kitchen light and walked into the living room slowly, still staring down at Lindsey's card. The flat was almost dark then, save for a single pinkish lamp in the corner of the room and the lights from the streetlamps outside. Vaguely Spike wondered if that pink lamp was on all day or if it came on when the room got to a certain lack of brightness. Why he thought of this was anyone's guess. His brain felt a bit hazy, truthfully. Like he'd had more than two quick pints of stout at lunch. Glancing down at the vodka in his hand, he thought twice before he went ahead and poured himself a drink. What's the worst that could happen, right?
Angel stepped right up to him in that pinkish light and held the card out. "Start at the beginning and tell me what happened. Don't leave anything out."
Spike sipped his drink, wincing a little from the strength of it, then sighing from the sweet warmth it created in his belly. He took back Lindsey's card and pocketed it once again, then he strolled over to the couch and flopped onto it.
"I went after him because he piqued my interest," he began. "I wanted to play with him, is all."
Pouring himself a whiskey, Angel walked over to the couch and sat down beside his grand-childe, close enough so their legs touched softly. The proximity got Spike's nerves humming again and he offered a tiny, flirty smirk. Angel returned the expression but said nothing, he just waited and watched.
Spike went on. "I found him in a bar across the street from the office-the seafood place the lawyers are always on about."
"McCormick & Schmick," Angel said.
"Right. He was in there waiting to give your little Eve chippie a ride home from work. Or so he said. Such a good little boyfriend, he is."
Angel sipped his drink but had no comment.
"He'd bought some magazines and was gonna have a spot o' lunch and I followed him. Sat down with him and had a few pints."
"And crab cakes," Angel noted, his voice low and husky.
Spike grinned. "Tasted that on me, did you? They were nice, those. I recommend them." Turning on the couch, he draped his leg over Angel's lap, then he leaned in for a kiss. Soft that time, quiet, but still loaded with lustful intent. He felt it all over his body, but mostly that kiss tickled his anus and nipples. "Mmm," he purred, brushing his nose against his sire's. "I really think we should be shaggin' now and talking later."
"Talk now," Angel said, but not before he took another soft, licking kiss. "Mmm. You had fries, too."
Laughing softly, Spike leaned his head against the couch cushion with his chin partially resting on Angel's shoulder. "Yeah. They served those with this ponced up ketchup that Southern Comfort wouldn't touch. He said it reminded him of blood and it gave him the shivers. So, of course, that was when I bit him."
Angel blinked blandly, not having any of Spike's nonsense. He knew the young one too well.
Spike sighed. "All right, I didn't bite him. But I offered. And he wasn't entirely put off by the idea. So, I moved around and sat closer to him and we got . . . a bit friendly."
"How friendly? Tell me when you got his blood in your mouth."
"Well," the blond said, enjoying the jealous pinch in Angel's tone. "He cut himself on a knife, see? Purely by accident. And there it was . . . this lovely little cut, just dripping away."
"How did he cut himself, Spike?" Angel said incredulously.
"What're you implying? I just said it was accident, didn't I? We'd just finished eating and the cutlery was still on the table. He happened to put his hand down in the wrong place and caught the business end of the blade."
His remarks were met with that blank stare Spike hated so very much. The one that said 'you are so full of shit and you know I know it.' He sighed.
"Was he trying to get away from you?" Angel said, his voice growing lower and scratchier.
Spike chose that moment to flirt a little because he knew it would help-and it did. "He might've been. He got a bit skittish once I sat beside him. Even though I wasn't bein' at ALL threatenin', I'll have you know."
"Uh huh. But he still cut himself trying to get away from you."
"It wasn't like he was trapped," Spike said. "He was free to walk out any time, but he didn't. He didn't WANT to."
Angel processed this for a long time, swirling his whiskey in his glass. "Was he afraid of you?" he asked finally.
"Not too much. Not as much as I would have preferred. Get's me goin' when they're a little scared."
They looked at each other and then, to Spike's sheer delight, Angel grinned wolfishly.
"Yeah," the dark one said. "Would have been fun if he was shitting himself."
Spike giggled. "You really dislike the boy, don't you?"
"You know, not especially," Angel admitted. "He just gave me endless grief a few years ago and got under my skin. I never really hated him, he just BUGGED me. Lindsey's got potential. He just uses it for all the wrong reasons. God only knows what he's using it for now." Again, he went pensive and stared into his glass, apparently thinking of all those things young Lindsey did to displease him back in the day. "You didn't ask him, did you? What he wants with me now?"
Spike shook his head. "Didn't get to it. Didn't plan on it. I told you, luv. I just wanted to shag the bloke and that's why I followed him. Got that lovely scent of his up my snout in your office and off I went. This conflict is between you and lambchop. It's nothin' to do with me."
Angel's brow crinkled in disgust and his voice raised several octaves. "Lambchop? You gave him a fucking pet name already?"
Laughing gleefully, Spike said, "relax, would you? We're not pickin' out a china pattern just yet. Nothing more than play time now. Most likely won't be anything more at all. He's tied up in denial knots."
Going very broody for a moment, Angel muttered, "he gave you his phone number, Spike. He wants you to use it."
"And use it, I will," Spike said quietly, decisively.
"It's puts you in a bad position," Angel said seriously. "He'll use you. To get to me."
"Not if I don't let him," Spike said. And then he said nothing more about it.
After a long time, Angel sighed and then another little grin tugged his lovely lips. "I must say, I really did enjoy beating him up, though. Lindsey's fun to punch."
Spike chuckled and nuzzled Angel's neck, glad that last cloud of gloom had passed. Whispering, he said, "you have GOT to try him, peaches. He's sweet and yummy and so ready . . . mmmmmmmmm, God is he EVER ready. He wanted me so bad, it was criminal."
Angel returned the nuzzle and punctuated it with a deep kiss. "Okay," he whispered. "Lindsey cut himself and there he was, bleeding. What happened next?"
"Well," Spike said, his fingers working on the buttons of Angel's previously soiled shirt. "I did the good Samaritan thing, didn't I? I kissed it better."
"He let you do that?"
"He did." Spike cleared his throat. "After a little nudge."
Angel shook his head disapprovingly. "You mesmerized him?"
"Just a little," Spike defended. "It's not like he needed too much pushin'. He was THERE, mate. He wanted it. Hard as a bleedin' rock, heart poundin' away like a jackhammer. Oh, yeah . . . he wanted it. Trust me."
"Did he struggle?" Angel said and his tone had that righteous flatness again.
Spike looked down a bit sheepishly. "No," he lied, hating being scolded.
"Tell me the truth, Spike. You know I'll know."
"Then why do you need me to tell you," he grumbled, bringing his glass to his lips and draining its contents.
"Because," Angel said. "I want you to." He lifted Spike's chin and forced the blond to look at him-just like daddy. The action made Spike's nipples tingle again. "Did he struggle?"
Brow wrinkling in consternation, Spike heaved a huffy sigh. "All right. Yes. He struggled. It was bloody gorgeous, okay? You would've wet yourself just like I did."
Angel gave a satisfied nod, then he kissed Spike's mouth again, that time lingering on the bottom lip with his teeth very gently. "Did he say no? Tell you not to taste his blood?" he asked against the kiss.
"Yeah," Spike purred, the memory of it enflaming him all over again. And clearly, the idea of it was getting Angel's motor revving, too.
"Did he beg you to stop?" Those fangs dug into Spike's lip in a sudden deep penetration that made him shiver with sensation and desire.
Gasping, Spike let his empty glass drop onto the carpet and dug his fingers into Angel's thick dark hair, pulling him closer.
"Did he?" the brunette panted. "Did he beg you?"
"Over and over," Spike practically crowed, climbing on top of his sire again.
"Oh, god," Angel gasped desperately and then they slid off the couch and onto the floor. "I have ALWAYS wanted to eat him . . . I think I'm jealous."
"Ya think?" Spike said, then he laughed almost sweetly as he undid the last few buttons on Angel's shirt, pushing it off those beautiful arms. Then they were kissing again, all tongues and fangs and urgent fingers busily removing all that pesky clothing. The carpet was nice and soft under Spike's naked skin so he didn't mind rolling on it. The rolling was fun. And by the time they'd got all their clothes off, they had managed to roll all the way across the living room to the bedroom entrance.
"Should we be civilized and get on the bed?" he teased, not giving a flying toss where they were, so long as they shagged.
Angel rolled on top of him and kissed him hard, spinning his tongue around in the blond's mouth so he could touch all the tickly spots. Spike loved this and moaned his appreciation.
"We'll get there," Angel said, and then he stood up and extended his hand to help Spike to his feet. "First, let's try something else."
Intrigued, Spike let his sire help him up, then Angel led him to the big window that ran the length of the bedroom. Pulling the cord against the wall, Angel opened the blinds and fully exposed the glass. The fresh L.A. night twinkled out there like a carpet of gems.
"What's this?" Spike said, stroking Angel's naked belly affectionately. "Feelin' the need to show off your bits?"
"Maybe a little," Angel replied. "You started it."
"I did? How's that?" They kissed again, and Spike pressed his lover's back against the cool glass.
"In the office," the brunette breathed. "You know we were being filmed, don't you?"
Spike just grinned, reaching down to stroke Angel's heavy, hard cock. "'Course I did, yeah. And so did you."
"Yeah . . . mmmmm . . ." Letting his head drop back against the window, Angel sighed with pleasure at his childe's ministrations. Spike knew just how to touch him, just how to tease him to the point of raving hunger . . . to the point where he'd start to beg to be fucked. They were almost there . . . just a little more petting and kissing and they'd be off to the races.
Angel's chest rose and fell in reflexive breaths and he looked at Spike with sparkling, lust-filled eyes. "I liked that . . ." he confessed, needlessly. "Being watched by them."
"I know, peaches," Spike purred. "And now you want the whole city to watch you." He took hold of Angel's hips and turned him around to face the window. The glass was just long enough to expose them from the knees up and Angel braced himself with his hands against it.
Spike stroked his sire's lovely ass very gently, caressing the skin in big circles, teasing it, bringing up the sensation. Every once in a while, he'd reach around and give that gorgeous cock a nice long tug, making Angel groan with need. Pressing his face into the soft skin between Angel's shoulderblades, Spike kissed him languorously, taking plenty of time to run his tongue over the intricate pattern of the gryphon.
"He won't let you fuck him," Angel panted, his cheek pressed to the window glass.
"No?" Spike said and then he ran his tongue all the way down his sire's long, straight spine. He stopped to nibble on Angel's slightly protruding tailbone, then he used his fingers to part those satiny, willing cheeks.
Just like always, that delectable rose bud beckoned him, silently begging to be tasted, kissed, bathed with saliva until it opened itself wantonly. Spike had never been able to resist it. Countless hours of his unlife had been spent luxuriating in that particular oral pleasure. That night, though, they were both too raw to take their time.
Wetting his lips and tongue generously, Spike covered that tender orifice with his mouth and began stroking it, lubricating it with slow, loving licks. Angel trembled and his hips arched back, begging for more contact with that probing tongue. He actually asked for it with words which made Spike's skin shimmer with anticipation. He loved the taste-always had. It was the perfect balance of salt and bitter, sweet and musk. Angel, all the way.
"Now . . ." the brunette pleaded. "I'm gonna come, Spike . . . I want you inside me . . ."
Not one to disobey a direct order for pleasure, Spike stood up and got hold of Angel's hips in his hands. Giving his cock a few good strokes to bring it to its fullest potential, he guided it to that hungry little hole and slipped it right in. They both groaned, like they always did when the penetration was fresh, and then Angel wiggled his hips insistently. He didn't want to wait or fool about. He wanted to get on with the friction.
Spike took a steadying breath, then slid his hard cock almost all the way out before driving it in all the way down to his balls. His own anus vibrated with pleasure as he began a smooth, fast rhythm, and his nipples demanded a little pinching. Everything felt so good, so electric and charged that he never wanted to stop, but he could already feel the pinnacle winding up deep inside him. Angel arched his back impossibly, lifting into the penetration with total abandon. His moans were raw and hitching, gathering volume and speed as their pace quickened. Oh, yeah . . . he was getting JUST what he needed in just the right amount. Spike grinned at his own prowess and closed his eyes.
In the darkness behind his eyelids, Lindsey's eyes flashed so clearly it felt like he was right there-watching, supervising, learning. This made Spike grin even harder. In fact, he almost laughed out loud between thrusts as his body began to hum with the pending orgasm. Eyes still closed, he reached around and carefully fondled Angel's big cock, stroking the tense organ gently, drawing the orgasm up. This made the old boy whine like a child and the sound of it sent Spike right up to the edge.
For a moment, he froze, trying to hold on and make all this amazing pleasure last, but Angel was having none of that stopping business. He snapped his hips, reaching around to grab Spike's lower back and force him forward, returning to the rhythm. Lowering his head onto Angel's broad, muscular back, Spike knew he was done in. He couldn't hold it. He gripped Angel's cock firmly in his fingers and rubbed it in time with his strokes, his knuckles connecting to the cool window glass on every upward movement. The sound was like the erratic knocking of a drunken visitor staggering onto your porch in the middle of the night. It reminded Spike of something . . . someone . . . a frequent visitor he used to have at his crypt in Sunnydale. She always came in the middle of the night, that one. And she was always drunk on self-loathing.
Suddenly, they both froze and the orgasm claimed them together like an explosion. Spike could feel it moving through Angel, humming, vibrating, shattering him again-just as it was doing to him. His eyes were half-open and in his peripheral vision, he saw splash after splash of blood-creamy semen hit the window glass, dripping slowly down onto the carpet. His own balls throbbed with release as they tightened and relaxed repeatedly, pumping his seed deep into his sire's body.
Somewhere beyond the sound of their rasping breath, Spike heard the phone ringing. At first, he thought he was imagining it, but then it happened again and again. Angel pushed away from the window, separating their connection rather abruptly. He crawled across the smoothly made bed and grabbed the phone off the night table. Still panting, he spoke a clipped greeting into the receiver.
"Yeah," the dark haired vampire said and then after a moment, he frowned. "Hello?"
Spike climbed on the bed beside him, mostly because he needed to lie down. His legs were feeling right unstable. Sprawled on the bed on his back, he listened to his lover repeat the word 'hello' two more times, each more irritable than the last, and then finally he hung up.
"Wrong number?" he asked.
"I don't know," Angel said. "Someone was definitely there. I think I could hear water running. But they didn't say anything. I didn't recognize the number on the display."
Glancing up at the brunette, Spike offered a lopsided grin. "Maybe it was someone in the audience out there callin' for an encore." He rolled onto his side and kissed Angel's wet belly, licking at the delicious, sweaty fluids on his skin. "You do realize, your maid is gonna pitch a fit about that window."
Angel chuckled as he pulled two of the pillows out from under the bedspread and propped them up next to the headboard. Leaning against them, he glanced at the mess he'd made on the window glass. "Yeah," he concurred. "I'm sure I'll hear about that."
Spike nestled between Angel's legs and rested his head on his sire's broad chest. Their bodies fit together as neatly as they always had-just like they were cut from the same stone. For a while, they both just lay there collecting themselves, but not talking. Spike's mind wandered back to his lunch date and the boy's beautiful blue eyes. He wondered what Lindsey was doing right then. Maybe he and that little Eve were going it at hot and heavy just like he and Angel had been.
Or maybe . . .
Sitting up suddenly, he looked at the phone beside Angel's bed accusingly. "You've got that thingamajig on there that redials the last person that called you, right?"
"Yeah," Angel said. "Why?"
"Do it." Spike got up and walked out to the living room where his coat was tossed in a pile on the floor. Snatching it up, he fished Lindsey's little white card out of the pocket and brought it back to the bed.
Angel was holding the phone but he hadn't pressed for the redial yet. His brow knit and his jaw set tightly. "What's the number on the card?"
"323-555-6214," Spike said, reading it off just as Angel pressed the code on the receiver that would call up the last incoming number.
The brunette stared at the display on the phone for a hard, unhappy second, then he held it up for Spike to see. The number was, of course, the same.
"It's for you," Angel said as the line on the other end rang softly two times.
Spike took the phone and brought it to his ear. It rang two more times before it was answered but no one said anything. Craning his ears, Spike could hear water in the background, as well. A soft trickle, like one of those tabletop fountains with the smooth, shiny rocks. He waited and listened and then he finally heard a soft raspy sigh. Oh, yeah . . . it was lambchop, all right.
"I see," Spike purred into the receiver. "My little southern boy is playin' possum, is he?" He crawled onto the bed again and snuggled back into his previous position on top of Angel. "Don't you wanna talk to me, lambchop?"
On the other end of the phone, Spike heard young Lindsey sigh again and then again right after, but the second time, the sigh picked up a bit of his voice. Ragged and bare, that sound was. The sound ripe, naughty boys made when they were touching their privates.
"Lambchop . . ." he teased. "I can hear you . . . I know what you're doing." Glancing up, he saw Angel grinning in spite of himself. "Got you all hot and bothered today, didn't I? Sent you runnin' home for a wank. Or three." Again, he listened very closely to the tiny sounds on the other end of the phone. He heard Lindsey panting faster and faster and the smallest of scratchy moans made the hairs stand up on Spike's neck. God, he wished Angel had video conferencing.
"Come on, now," he cooed. "Talk to me . . . you know you want to. You rang up a minute ago to see if I was here. You can't stop thinking about me, can you?" He heard the phone being shifted on the other end and for a moment, it seemed like it was set down all together, then-finally-Lindsey spoke.
"I . . . thought you'd call sooner," he whispered, his voice tentative and scraped.
"Did you?" Spike said impishly. "Well, truth is . . . I would've done, but I got busy."
"I know," Lindsey said, his breath still pulling in and out quickly. "I know about you and Angel. I knew you were with him."
Spike looked up at his sire, eyebrows lifted with bright interest. "Oh, you did? You weren't, by any chance . . . watching us. Were you, luv? Like . . . maybe . . . on the surveillance cameras?"
Lindsey said nothing which said everything. Spike started to laugh. "Well," he said. "Isn't THAT something? Did you enjoy the show?"
After a long, long pause, the young lawyer whispered, "you know I did."
Spike sighed with great satisfaction. He got comfortable again with his head on Angel's chest and the phone tucked against his ear. Oh, yeah. This was gonna be fun.
The End