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toobusy2write
NC-17 Angel/Spike, Spike/others
Days after Spike turns eighteen, he gets sucked into a whole new world by a mysterious man, but is it one he's ready for?
Warnings for: 18yo Spike in a BDSM relationship with an older man
beta'd by thatotherperv
See Disclaimer of Ownership here
It was Tuesday and Spike was still flying from the flogging, the bruises on his arse and upper back aching deliciously every time he sat or moved in just the right way. Spike wished he could be back there, back in the condo with Angel, but he couldn't. Angel was out of town until tomorrow after having nearly a two week break -- which accounted for all the time they'd spent together, and subsequently all the time Spike hadn't spent with his friends -- so Spike was doing some damage control in the form of getting high with his friends at Angel's and Lindsey's penthouse.
"How about a game of spin the bottle," Faith asked. "Same rules as last time."
Several people -- including Lindsey -- expressed interest, but Spike shook his head from his spot on the couch, slouched, legs wide open, hands on his thighs. "Sorry, but 'm taken. Don’t think Angel would appreciate me groping anyone else."
Faith smirked at him and crawled over from her spot on the floor next to a nearby chair. Spike watched as she sort of shimmied up between his legs, ending up with her breasts in his lap, the outer swell of them just brushing his fingers. "How about if I just do the groping then?"
Spike quirked a brow at her and smirked, but the second her mouth pressed against his groin through his jeans, Spike jerked back to himself, realizing she was serious through the haze of pot clouding his brain.
Gently but firmly, he pushed her off him. "'M flattered, pet, but no thanks. Not a cheat."
Faith sat back on her heels and shrugged. "Your loss."
Spike smiled at her. "I don't doubt it for a minute."
That seemed to placate her and then Xander walked into the room and Faith zeroed in on him, a smirk on her face, and Spike chuckled, knowing without a doubt Xander was in for one hell of a night.
Some time later, once the party had more or less dispersed and Xander was off in Lindsey's bedroom with Faith making a bloody lot of noise, Spike found himself alone in the living room with Lindsey, both men on the floor in front of the couch, it having been too much effort to climb back up there after their game of quarter bounce on the coffee table.
Lindsey was currently doubled over, giggling at some inane joke Spike had told him, while Spike watched him, stoned, pissed, and amused as hell as tears rolled down Lindsey's cheeks. Suddenly, Lindsey lost his balance -- and didn't that take talent when all he'd been doing was sitting on his arse? -- and fell into Spike.
"Oi!" Spike said, half-heartedly shoving at Lindsey to get him off him.
The giggling was contagious, though, and soon he found himself laughing uncontrollably and leaning against Lindsey for support. Finally, they stopped laughing and sucked in deep lungfuls of air, shoulders and heads pressed together.
A particularly loud moan carried through the penthouse to them and Lindsey said, "Jesus. Maybe you should have taken her up on her offer. They've been in there what? Two hours and they're still going strong?"
Spike snorted. "Forget her, mate. What about Xander? Too bad the bloke's straight. Has to be a fucking Viking in the sack to keep it up that long."
Lindsey burst out laughing. "Viking? What the hell does that mean?"
Spike started laughing too. "Not a soddin' clue. Just sounded good."
That time when they got themselves under control again, Spike found himself more on top of Lindsey than sitting next to him. He also found himself staring into Lindsey's eyes, holding his breath, no clue how he'd got there. All he knew was that at that moment he wanted to kiss Lindsey and couldn't think of a reason in the world not to…until his lips were within a hair's breath of touching Lindsey's, that is. He jerked back so suddenly he fell on his butt.
Lindsey sat up and frowned. "What's wrong?"
"I'm…involved," Spike replied, feeling guilt curl inside him in spite of the fact that he'd stopped himself before actually kissing Lindsey.
Lindsey got onto his hands and knees and crawled over to Spike, straddling his lap. Unconsciously, Spike reached up and gripped his hips as Lindsey traced his mouth with his fingers. "Think about it this way. Tomorrow you probably won't even remember this, so there'll be nothing to feel guilty about. Just…enjoy the ride for tonight. You know we'd be amazing together."
Spike sucked in a sharp breath, an internal battle raging inside him between the horny, high as fuck part of him and the madly in love with Angel part of him. It was that thought, that sudden realization, that prompted Spike to dump Lindsey on his butt on the carpet next to him and scramble to his feet. "No. I can't…can't do that to him. I love him, Linds."
Lindsey's eyes widened. "Fuck, man. That's…are you sure? I mean, it wasn't that long after you and Dru broke up that you got together with him. Maybe this is just…a rebound thing? Or maybe a kink thing?"
Spike turned and sat on the couch, slumping down. "No. It's very much an Angel thing. I can't stop thinking about him and wanting to be with him when we're not together, and when we are…it's like nothing I've ever felt before. What I had with Dru doesn't even come close."
Lindsey climbed up on the couch with Spike and leaned his head on Spike's shoulder, patting his thigh with one hand. "That's good. I'm," he paused to yawn, then finished, "happy for you, man."
Spike covered Lindsey's hand with his. "Ta, mate."
Lindsey yawned again, setting off a reactionary yawn in Spike. "Fuck I'm tired."
Spike yawned once more, suddenly finding it hard to keep his eyes open. He leaned his head against Lindsey's, eyes fluttering shut as he mumbled, "Me too."
"Night, Spike," Lindsey said, voice somewhat slurred.
"Night Linds," Spike replied and promptly fell asleep.
Spike woke an indeterminate time later to a sudden sound, possibly a door shutting. He jumped a mile off the couch, or would have if he hadn't been weighted down by something. He opened his eyes and looked down at himself. Correction. Someone. Spike looked around, taking in the fact that the living room was trashed and he was lying on his back with Lindsey on top of him, drooling on his chest. Spike reached down to shake him awake, stopping short when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Feeling his heart stop in his chest, Spike forced himself to look up and found what he'd most feared. Angel. Standing in the entryway to the living room, just off the foyer, looking like he wanted to throttle him with his bare hands.
Spike swallowed. Hard.
"I can explain," Spike said, wincing at the way his voice shook at the thought that Angel might dump him for this.
It was then Lindsey stirred on top of him and slowly pushed himself up to a sitting position. He looked at Angel through squinted eyes, most likely still too out of it to gauge his expression, then turned to Spike and said, "Don’t bother. He doesn't mind as long as we don't drive somewhere high or drunk."
Spike didn't respond, just scrambled to a sitting position and froze, pinned to the spot by the anger and hurt in Angel's eyes.
Lindsey, oblivious to the tension in the room, stretched and yawned, asking lazily, "What time is it, anyway?"
In a clipped tone, Angel said, "Almost one in the afternoon."
Suddenly, Lindsey jumped off the couch and said, "Oh shit. I was supposed to give Xander a ride to work today, then go get Darla at the hotel for lunch." Turning to Spike, he said, "Hey, man, I hate to do this to you, but could you stick around and clean this up? I'll make it up to you, I promise."
Spike was too busy freaking out over what Angel was going to say and do about this to answer Lindsey, but then, Lindsey was too busy scrambling around for his wallet and shoes to notice. He ran out of the room toward his bedroom, and the whole time he was gone neither Angel nor Spike moved a muscle or spoke a word. Suddenly, there was a loud curse that sounded like it came from Xander and then he was in a mad rush too, running around, gathering his things. Faith trailed behind, looking sleepy and well satisfied.
"Hey Lindsey, think you could drop me off at the subway near Darla's hotel? I can take it home from there."
"Sure, but we have to go now."
Faith nodded and followed them out, Lindsey calling to Spike just before he shut the door, "Thanks again, Spike. I owe you big time."
The door clicked shut and Spike finally found the courage to move. He stood and started to speak, but Angel cut him off.
"Right now it'd be a real good idea for you to just keep your mouth shut. Clean this up like Lindsey asked. I'm going to my room and I'll be out in a little while. I'm too angry to even talk to you right now."
Spike clamped his mouth shut and nodded, knowing if the roles were reversed he'd feel the same way. At least Angel hadn't kicked him out, he told himself. That must mean there was some hope of fixing this. He just hoped Angel would calm down enough to hear him out, to let him explain, so Spike could tell him what he'd figured out.
Angel walked off, suitcase in hand. The door to his bedroom slammed shut seconds later, making Spike jump. Looking around, he groaned at the mess and set to work cleaning it up in spite of the massive hangover threatening to pound a hole through his skull.
Twenty minutes later, the living room was clean and Spike was standing in the middle of it, not knowing what to do. Deciding to take matters into his own hands, he walked back to Angel's bedroom and knocked.
"Wait for me in the living room."
Dejected, Spike started to turn around, but then a burst of anger slammed through him at Angel ordering him around like they were in scene when they very much weren't.
Turning back around, he clenched his jaw, reached out and tried the doorknob. It turned in his hand and Spike didn't hesitate to walk in.
Angel looked up from where he sat at the end of his bed, elbows on his thighs and head in his hands. "I told you to wait for me out there."
Spike's felt a stab of regret at the hurt expression on Angel's face, but kept his resolve and said, "We're not having sex or about to have sex, I'm assuming, so I don't take orders at the moment."
Angel clenched his jaw and said, "I'm serious, Spike. I can't do this right now. You need to give me some space, alright?"
Spike wavered for a second, then said, "If you'd just let me explain--"
Angel was up off the bed and in Spike's face instantly. "Explain? You want to explain to me why I found my boyfriend sleeping underneath my son on my couch? There's an explanation for that?"
Spike swallowed, but stood his ground. "Yes."
Angel stared him down and Spike was proud of the fact that he didn't turn and run at the look of restrained violence in his eyes. He had to remind himself that Angel had never once raised a hand to him in anger, so he had no reason to fear he would now. Except for the fact that Angel looked like he'd rather strangle Spike than talk to him. Bugger.
As if sensing Spike's fear, Angel backed up a step and said, slightly calmer, "Let's hear it."
Spike hesitated, then said, "We just…fell asleep sitting up together on the couch. No bloody idea how exactly we ended up…the way we ended up when you walked in."
Angel looked at him skeptically. "That's it? That's your whole explanation? You just randomly fell asleep sitting on the couch and sometime during the night you decided to get on your back and spread your legs for him like a good little bitch?"
Anger surged up in Spike and he took a step toward Angel, eyes narrowing, fists clenching at his sides. "Don't you ever talk that way to me again, understand? No matter what I like to be called when we're shagging, I'm not a slut or a whore or a bitch or anything like that. Got it?"
Angel looked away, a tick working in his jaw. After a moment, he met Spike's gaze again and said, "I'm know. This is why I didn't want to talk right now, Spike. You're not the only one who goes for the jugular when they're angry."
Spike took a step back and ran his hand through his hair, taking a deep breath and forcing himself to calm down. "Can understand that. I just can't…. Was going insane out there, worried about what you were in here thinking. I just…needed you to know that what you walked in on wasn't what it looked like."
Spike turned to go, but Angel's voice stopped him. "Spike." Spike turned back and waited. "That's it? There's nothing else?"
Spike looked away guiltily and that was all the answer Angel needed. The next thing Spike knew, Angel had him backed against the wall, hands on his arms, fingers digging into his flesh, face once again angry.
"Tell me, Spike. And make sure you tell me everything. I have cameras set up out there."
Spike tensed, shocked silent for a moment. And then outrage crept in, burning hot in his gut. He tried to jerk free of Angel's hold, but Angel only held on tighter. "What the fuck, Angel? Cameras? Got listening devices, too? Been hearing all the dirty little secrets we tell each other?"
"Don't change the fucking subject," Angel warned.
"I'm not!" Spike spat angrily. "I just can't fucking believe you video tape what goes on here when you're not around." Suddenly Spike's eyes widened. "That means you…you watched Lindsey and I jerk each other off that night. You knew when you texted me the next day, didn't you? What, was it some kind of game? See if I'd own up to it?"
Angel scowled, but his grip on Spike loosened slightly, even if he didn't let go completely. "I didn't watch it until after. I texted you the minute I got back to town. I was too anxious to be with you to bother watching video tapes first."
Spike ignored the warm thrill that shot through him at the knowledge Angel had been that desperate to see him in favor of narrowing his eyes and asking, "You got one in the bathroom, too? Did you watch us rub off on each other? Did you ask me about it that night we went out just to test me? See if I'd tell you the truth?" Spike's voice dropped a notch and he leaned in, face centimeters from Angel's as he finished, "Did you get off on it, Angel?"
Angel's fingers tightened on him again and Spike knew for a fact there'd be bruises, but he was too angry right then to care. He felt played, felt betrayed and he'd be arsed if he'd let Angel get away with making him feel that way.
"I'm not even going to dignify that last part with an answer, but as for the rest of it, no there aren't cameras in the bathroom. Just the living room and kitchen. I had them set up a few years ago when Lindsey went through a rebellious period. I'm gone so much I wanted to make sure he wasn't getting into too much trouble while I was away. You can only trust the hired help so far."
That…actually made sense. Sort of like nanny cams. Spike felt slightly embarrassed, until he remembered that Lindsey was well past needing Angel to spy on him for his own good, and yet he was still video taping him.
"I might buy that, mate, if it wasn't for the fact that you're still doing it. Care to explain that?"
Angel let go of him completely and backed up. "I don't do it all the time, just when…."
Angel trailed off and Spike studied his face, knowing from the guilty expression on it just when those times were. "Just when you know I'm going to be here, that right?"
Angel looked away and didn't answer.
Suddenly, something Spike had wondered a while back but dismissed reared its ugly head. At the time, he hadn't wanted to burst the bubble surrounding him and Angel, but now….
In a hard voice, Spike asked, "Tell me, Liam--" Angel's eyes came up to meet his at the use of his real name, the first time Spike had ever called him that -- "how long exactly were you stalking me before you got around to seducing me?" Angel's jaw clenched, but he didn't answer. Spike's eyes narrowed. "Cat got your tongue? Let me help you out, then. Just nod your head when I land in the ballpark. A week? A month? Two months? Four? Six?"
Still no response and Spike suddenly remembered what he'd done with Dru in that very living room one night about eight months earlier when Lindsey had been home on winter break. They all had been stoned and Lindsey had been off in a bedroom with his bird of the moment.
Stepping up to within inches of Angel, Spike dropped his voice, making it purposely seductive when he asked, "Did you watch me and Dru shag in your living room, Angel?" At the spark in Angel's eyes, Spike knew he'd hit that one on the head. Eyes darting between Angel's mouth and his guilty yet turned on gaze, Spike stood up on his toes, bringing his lips to within a hair's breath of Angel's. "Did you get off on it?" A tick worked in Angel's jaw but he still didn't answer. Spike didn't need him to anyway. He could see the truth of it in his eyes. "How many times? Tell me, Angel. Once? Twice? Ten times? Every night until you got your filthy hands on me for real?"
Angel growled and suddenly Spike found himself slammed against the wall again, the bruises from the flogging Saturday aching dully in response, Angel's tongue in his mouth, and Spike knew he should be disgusted, knew he should be running like hell from a man who had apparently been stalking him for nearly a year, possibly longer, and was obviously obsessed with him on some level, but Spike was too busy thrusting his own tongue into Angel's mouth, giving as good as he got, to give it more than a passing thought.
Suddenly, hands were at his waist, opening his jeans, shoving them down past his knees and Spike didn't even consider protesting when he was yanked away from the wall and shoved toward the bed. He stumbled toward it, tripped and fell just short of it, but Angel didn't give him time to get up and get free of his jeans. Instead, he put a hand on Spike's back to keep him in place and straddled his trapped legs. Spike looked behind him to find Angel freeing himself with one has as he reached for his nightstand with the other, grabbing out lube and a condom. Then fingers were inside him thrusting in and out quickly, preparing him. Before he knew it, the fingers were gone and Angel's cock was breeching him, a little too fast, a little too hard and Spike cried out, grabbing at the bedspread and trying to breathe through it.
When Angel tensed and tried to pull out, Spike pushed back against him and gasped, "More. Need it, Angel."
Angel hesitated for only a second, then slammed back into him. Spike grunted and banged into the side of the bed with the force of it. Again he gasped, "More."
Angel partially withdrew, then thrust into him even harder. Spike groaned. "Yeah, that's it. Give it to me, Angel."
Angel kept up the punishing pace and Spike couldn't help himself from asking, "This what you imagined all those nights you jerked off watching me bend Dru over the couch? This what you wanted?"
Angel's fingers dug into Spike's hips. "Shut up, Spike."
Ignoring the order since what they were doing didn't feel anything like a scene and Angel wasn't acting like a Dom so much as an angry boyfriend, Spike taunted, "Was, wasn't it. Bet you laid on this very bed, cock in hand, fucking your fist while you imagined rogering me but good. Making me scream for it just like I made her scream."
One of Angel's hands left Spike's hip and pressed down on his upper back. "Enough."
Spike moaned and pushed back against Angel, trying to get him deeper, wanting to feel him split him in two. "Come on, Angel, tell me. Tell me what was going through your head while you jerked off."
The hand at his back slid around and closed over his mouth. Not having it, Spike bit him and Angel jerked his hand away, cursing, although he didn't stop thrusting into him, either. Desperate for his Dom, for the man he'd been with all this time, and not finding it in the angry fuck he was getting, Spike grabbed the hand he'd just bitten and put it around his own throat, trying to give Angel something he knew he wanted.
Instead of taking Spike up on it, though, Angel froze.
For a long moment, all that could be heard in the room were Spike's and Angel's heavy breathing as the two men knelt on the floor, Spike's legs trapped between Angel's, Angel's dick still up his arse, Spike bent over the side of the bed with Angel's hand at his throat, not squeezing, but not letting go either. Suddenly, the enormity of the situation overwhelmed Spike and he felt tears prick his eyes. Fighting them, he sniffed, furiously wiping at the corners of his eyes, beyond embarrassed that he was this close to blubbering like a school boy.
Instantly Angel was out of him and turning him around, pulling him into his lap and Spike was helpless to stop him, pride out the window by that point, just wanting to be held and told this was alright. That it was okay for him to be in love with a man who'd essentially stalked him for fuck knew how long and was obsessed with him. But he knew it wasn't. Had known it all along, hadn't he? But the kicker was that he didn't care. He didn't give a toss that Angel had carefully engineered their entire relationship, had watched and waited for the right time to pounce on him. Spike just wanted to be with him, no matter what.
Eventually, the knot in his throat eased a little and his eyes stopped watering. Spike sniffed, becoming aware for the first time that Angel was murmuring the word sorry over and over against the top of his head. Needing to shut him up, not wanting to hear him apologize, Spike tilted his head up, grabbed the back of Angel's head and pulled him down to him, pressing their lips together.
Angel froze for an instant, and then he was kissing Spike back, one hand in his hair, the other running up and down Spike's arm. Spike moaned and twisted on his lap, kicking his jeans off so he could straddle Angel. He jerked Angel back to full hardness, then positioned him at his hole and sank down, shuddering as he slid down the length of him. Angel groaned into his mouth and dropped his hands to Spike's hips, guiding his pace and Spike let him because this was how he wanted it, how he needed it, the angry man of a moment ago gone, his Angel back in place, his Dom, owning him, doing as he pleased with him not out of anger, but out of desire and need and whatever else he felt for him that made Spike feel like the most important person in the world when they were together.
Pulling free of the kiss, Spike dropped his head back and moaned. Fingers tracing the line of his throat brought Spike's head back up and the raw heat he saw in Angel's eyes let him know he needed it this way as much as Spike did. Grabbing Angel's hand, he put it back at his throat and waited, still riding him as Angel locked eyes with him and shook his head, trying to pull his hand away.
Spike kept it there, though, and said, "Please."
Angel squeezed Spike's hip to stop him and Spike stilled, waiting Angel out.
"You're sure? It's dangerous. When we talked about it, you weren't sure." Angel paused and studied his face, then said, "Maybe right now isn't the time to be making a decision like this."
Spike answered with a question of his own. "Not angry at me anymore?"
Angel shook his head. "No. I'm not."
Spike nodded. "Then I'm sure." He hesitated, then added, "I trust you." And it was true, in spite of everything he'd just learned, and probably somewhat irrationally so, he did trust Angel.
Angel's eyes flashed with heat and desire and something deeper Spike was afraid to put a name to, and then Angel was pushing him to his feet and Spike bit his lip as Angel slid out of him.
"Get your shirt off and get on the bed on your back," Angel ordered.
Spike shivered and did so. From one of his bedside drawers, Angel pulled out a pair of cuffs and looped them around one of the slats at the head of his bed, then grabbed Spike's wrists one at a time and locked the cuffs around them.
Spike felt a brief flutter of unease at being helpless with him now that he knew, or mostly knew the full extent of Angel's obsession with him, but as soon as Angel laid down on top of him, shoved one of his legs up over his arm and sank back inside him, Spike forgot his unease and moaned, arching up off the bed. A hand closed around his throat and Spike's eyes flew to Angel's, seeing the hesitance there.
"Do it. Please, Angel."
Something sparked deep inside Angel's eyes and then the hand was tightening and Angel was thrusting faster and harder and deeper. Spike gasped for air, only allowed a little of it, enough to keep him conscious and turned the fuck on, and just a little scared. And holy fuck, the longer they went and the harder Angel squeezed, the better and scarier it felt and the closer Spike got to coming.
When he felt his balls draw up, he begged in a raspy voice, "Need to come. Let me come. Please."
Angel squeezed just a little bit more and thrust just a little bit harder. "Do it. Prove who owns you, Spike. Prove it to me."
And Spike did, shooting long, ropy streams over both their chests and stomachs as he screamed, or tried to, the sound coming out as more of a choked off gasp than a scream. His entire body convulsed and shattered as he tried to suck in air and was denied. In that moment, he flew apart at the seams and was remade under Angel's hand and around his cock and it was one of the most intense feelings of his life.
Just when Spike was sure he was going to lose consciousness, Angel let go of his throat and braced himself above him, thrusting into him erratically as Spike's chest heaved, trying to get enough air. Angel froze and groaned and Spike watched, gasping and blissed out, as Angel came inside him.
Angel collapsed on top of him, and Spike, wishing he could wrap his arms around him, instead wrapped his legs around him, holding him to him as he sucked in lungfuls of air, wondering what the bleedin' hell he was doing, what the hell they were doing.
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