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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
Spike was a head case. He'd spent Sunday and Monday looking up sites on gay sex -- anal sex in particular -- along with sites about D/s relationships. He'd found some articles on something called subspace, but frankly, he was too nervous about getting fucked to give them much consideration besides bookmarking them for later. Tuesday he'd stayed clear of his laptop completely, deciding avoiding the issue was the way to go, but then he'd had a very realistic, very disturbing sex dream last night of Angel fucking him, and now he was anxious again.
He told himself he was being a prat, that he'd been wanting Angel to fuck him for a while now and that it was going to happen sooner or later, so why not now? It didn't help stop the rollercoaster that had take up residence in his gut every time he thought about it.
He had sussed out what a large part of the problem was, though, after the dream last night. The main cause of his anxiety was the fact that he still didn’t know who Angel was. All through the dream he hadn't been able to see Angel's face. He'd kept straining his eyes to see him, but Angel had kept covering them up with his hand and telling him he wouldn’t like what he found. Spike wasn't a psychiatrist, but with some dreams, it was easy to work out the meaning.
So, that's how he found himself hanging out with Lindsey and Xander in Lindsey's bedroom, playing video games on Wednesday afternoon. He was back to avoidance, or at least trying to get back there. If the horrendous way he was losing every game was any indication, he wasn't succeeding.
After getting his arse kicked for the fifth time by Xander at some racing game of Lindsey's, Spike chucked the remote in Lindsey's general direction and said, "'M done. Your turn."
Xander bumped shoulders with him. "Ah, don't be that way. We were having fun!"
Spike snorted and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, fun. Tell you what. Next time I want to have this much fun I'll schedule a dentist's appointment and get a tooth pulled."
Immediate Spike felt like a dick when he saw hurt flash through Xander's eyes just before Xander turned away. "Shit. Sorry, Xan. Didn't mean that. I'm just…not in the best of moods. Probably should have stayed home."
Xander looked at him again and offered him a small smile. "It's okay. And no you shouldn't. There's nothing better for a crappy mood than a day with your friends, right? Besides, I'm leaving in two months. I want to spend as much time with you guys before then as I can, shitty mood or not, okay?"
Spike nodded and bit his lip, his gut twisting the way it always did at the thought of Xander going off to God knew where, for God knew how long, doing God knew what…and possibly never coming back. They were at war. It happened. Some people didn't come back and that scared the fuck out of Spike.
From his spot at the top of the bed, propped up against some pillows, Lindsey rolled his eyes. "Jesus. Just hug and get it over with. This sentimental crap is going to put me in a diabetic coma."
Spike glared at Lindsey, but pulled Xander into his arms anyway, hugging him tight. Xander hugged him back, and with a put-upon sigh, Lindsey crawled over and joined in, wrapping his arms around them both.
After a moment, Lindsey asked, "Can we all reattach our balls now and pretend we're men again, please?"
Spike and Xander started laughing as they pulled out of the hug and Lindsey smiled at them, backing up to the head of his bed again. "About damn time. Now, whose ass am I going to kick this time?"
Spike and Xander looked at him, blinked, and pointed at one another.
Some time later, bored with video games, Spike and Xander sat at Lindsey's laptop, surfing the web and IM'ing friends while Lindsey stood in front of his full length mirror in Spike's leather coat, eyeing himself. "What do you think? Can I pull off a coat like this?"
Spike paused with his fingers on the keyboard and glanced over at Lindsey, feeling a by now familiar surge of attraction. With his shoulder length hair and the coat, he looked like some kind of throw back to the old west. A gun slinger or some such. "And then some."
Lindsey met his eyes and smirked knowingly. "Yeah?"
Spike smirked back. "Yeah."
Xander looked from one to the other of them. "Okay."
Looking over at him, Spike felt heat creep up his cheeks. "Okay what?"
Xander shrugged and turned back to the laptop, shoving Spike's hands off the keypad so he could type. "Nothing. Just that Faith was right, apparently."
Spike straightened slightly and glanced at Lindsey, who looked just as uncomfortable as he did, then looked back at Xander. "Right about what, exactly?"
Xander hit the enter button and turned back to Spike, looking him in the eye and then Lindsey. "She said you two were a little bent…and toward each other. I said she was insane because my two best friends would tell me something like that, not go around copping feels or whatever you're doing behind my back. Joke's on me, apparently."
Spike looked away guiltily, but Lindsey walked over and pulled up a chair, still wearing Spike's coat as he sat down. "Look, Xan. It's not like that. The only time we've uh, done anything with each other was the other night during that spin the bottle game, I swear."
Xander eyed them speculatively. "Then why does Spike look so guilty?"
Spike cleared his throat and met Xander's eyes. "Because I sort of have a…don't know what you'd call him. Boyfriend doesn't exactly fit, but…." Spike trailed off and shrugged.
If possible, Xander looked more hurt, especially when it became apparent this wasn't news to Lindsey. "I see."
Spike winced. "Look. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I've just….only had a couple of months to get used to the idea. Not that easy to just shout it out to the world, you know."
"But you told Lindsey," Xander countered.
Spike threw up his hands. "Didn't tell him, he guessed. Was kind of obvious when he stuck his hand down my jeans and it got me hard."
Xander cringed. "Uh, yeah. I don't need details, okay?"
Lindsey chuckled, then sobered. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you either. I figured it out sooner than Spike, but it's still hard to admit, especially when you're not entirely sure your two best friends will understand. I only had the summer to spend with you guys. I didn't feel like baring my soul and finding out the hard way you're not as open-minded as I thought."
Xander accepted that with a nod of his head. He looked back and forth between them again and asked, "Just to clarify, you're not together?"
Spike and Lindsey both shook their heads.
Xander smiled. "Okay then. But from now on, I want to know about these things."
Spike and Lindsey nodded. Lindsey looked as relieved by Xander's reaction as Spike felt. That is, until Xander asked his next question.
"So, who's this guy you're sorta seeing? Anyone I know?"
Spike swallowed. "I uh, it's too new still. I'm…I just need time, alright? Haven't told Lindsey either."
Xander didn't look happy about it, but he nodded nonetheless. "Sure. Whenever you're ready."
Just then Lindsey sort of…jumped in his seat.
Spike arched an eyebrow. "You alright, mate?"
Lindsey felt around in the pockets of Spike's coat until he came up with his mobile. Spike paled and made a grab for it, but Lindsey was faster, jumping up from his seat and dancing out of Spike's reach as he flipped the phone open.
Spike gave chase and Lindsey hurried around the side of his bed, his eyebrows arching as he asked, "Angel? Is that your man?"
"Give that here," Spike said heatedly, slightly panicked at the thought of Lindsey opening it. No telling what Angel had texted him about.
Lindsey smirked and jumped onto the bed and off the other side as Spike skirted around the end, trying to get him. "Kind of a…what's that word you use? Poufy? Kind of a poufy name, isn't it?"
Spike dove across the bed, tackling Lindsey to the carpet with an oomph. They rolled around on the carpet, Spike demanding he give him the phone, Lindsey laughing and doing his best to keep it from him.
From above them, Spike heard Xander say, "Oh God, my eyes. This used to be so innocent; now I'm seeing naked gay wrestling…with oil. I think I'm scarred for life."
At that, Lindsey dissolved into a fit of giggles and Spike triumphantly grabbed his mobile. Quickly, he texted back, not even bothering to look at Angel's text. With friends, have to text back in a bit.
Closing his mobile, he shut it off and stuffed it into his pocket as he tried to calm down. Looking at Lindsey lying in a ball on the floor laughing so hard tears were pouring out of his eyes, Spike couldn't help but see the humor in what Xander had said now that he wasn't scared Lindsey would see the text. Before long, he was laughing too and Xander was even chuckling.
Finally they all got a hold of themselves and Lindsey sat up, arm across his stomach and asked Spike, "So, Angel? That's his name? Seriously?"
Spike shrugged. "It's a nickname."
"What's he like?" Xander asked.
Taken off guard, Spike sat down on Lindsey's bed and bit his bottom lip. After a moment, he said, "He's tall. Has at least four or five inches on me. Got dark hair, broad shoulders, nice arse. He's…confident would be understating it, but he's not arrogant, if that makes sense. Just knows what he wants and how to get it."
"And what he wants is you?" Lindsey asked.
Spike smiled somewhat shyly. "Yeah, guess so."
Xander studied him. "Does he treat you well?"
Spike's smile widened. "Like the world revolves around me when we're together."
Xander smiled back. "Good. If he ever hurts you, though, he'll have us to deal with."
Spike rolled his eyes, but secretly, he loved the fact that Xander was acting so protective, so accepting of the situation. "Can take care of myself, git."
Lindsey climbed up from the floor finally and took up his spot on the bed again, after handing Spike his coat back. Putting his arms behind his head, Lindsey leaned back and said, "You know, that nickname sounds familiar."
Spike straightened, his attention caught. His heart skipped a beat at the thought that he might finally find out who Angel was. Now he just had to find a way to pull an answer from Lindsey without making either of his friends suspicious. "Yeah? Where from?"
Lindsey's brow furrowed. "I don't…." Suddenly his forehead smoothed out and he got a far away look on his face. "Back when I was a kid, back before my mom met my dad, we were…living kinda rough. Mom didn't have much money, barely enough to keep a roof over our heads, definitely not enough to feed and clothe us properly. It wasn't her fault or anything. She didn't have any living relatives, and my biological dad fucked off the minute he found out she was pregnant, so it was just the two of us.
"At night my mom would tell me stories about God and heaven and the angels. The nights I'd go to bed hungry, she'd tell me we'd be alright, that we had guardian angels watching over us and they wouldn't let anything bad happen to us. And then one day when I was seven, my dad -- the guy I consider my dad now, anyway -- walked into our lives and changed everything. He moved us into this penthouse and I walked into this room and there were toys and clothes everywhere, and so much food in the refrigerator. I couldn't stop staring."
Lindsey paused to wipe at his eyes with the back of his hand, and Spike and Xander made a point not to notice the unshed tears. "Anyway, when I saw all that I turned and looked up at him and told my mom that it was true, we did have a guardian angel. For a while until I started calling him dad, I called him Angel." Lindsey cleared his throat and added, "Huh. I'd forgotten that."
Spike felt like he'd been kicked in the gut and it had nothing to do with the story Lindsey had just told, as emotional as it was. It had everything to do, however, with the sneaking suspicion that he now knew who Angel really was, and who Angel really was, was his best friend's father.
As if Angel -- correction, Lindsey's father, Liam O'Connor -- had been waiting for his cue, Spike heard him call out to Lindsey from the end of the hall.
"Lindsey, I finished up a day early so I'm back."
Lindsey smiled and called back, "Sure thing, dad. Welcome back."
Spike pretended nonchalance, but inside he was quietly freaking out. He had to get out of there somehow, without Angel -- Mr. O'Connor, he corrected himself again -- finding him there. Spike knew he could never keep up the pretense of not knowing it was him if he came face to face with him. And right now a confrontation with Angel -- he just couldn't make himself call him Mr. O'Connor anymore, not with what he knew and what he'd done with him and to him -- was the last thing Spike needed or wanted. He needed time to sort this all out, figure out how he felt about it, beyond his gut reaction of bloody fucking Christ.
Unfortunately, fate wasn't on his side. Instead of wandering off somewhere else in the penthouse, Angel zeroed in on their location and knocked, then opened the door and stuck his head in.
Smiling at them, he said, "Hi guys."
Xander said hi in return and Spike mumbled a hi while keeping his eyes anywhere but on Angel's face.
When Angel directed his attention to Lindsey, though, asking him a question about dinner, Spike couldn't stop himself from studying his face, looking for any sign of guilt or…hell if he knew what, on the older man's face.
Older. Fucking hell. Spike had guessed Angel had a few years on him, but not seventeen years. He was sixteen years older than Lindsey, five years younger than Lindsey's mum, if Spike was remembering what Lindsey had told him once correctly. Angel had been a visionary before his time, Spike vaguely recalled reading somewhere. He'd taken the video world by storm at the age of nineteen and hadn't looked back. Lindsey had proudly told them once that by the time Angel was twenty-three -- which was when Lindsey had met him -- he had already become a big name in music videos.
Pulling himself back to the conversation, Spike heard Lindsey say, "Sure, takeout sounds good."
Before Spike could look away, Angel's eyes met his. "The two of you are welcome to stay, too."
Spike swallowed hard, willing himself not to turn bright red. Spike knew the second Angel figured out that he'd figured it out by the way the warm, welcome look in his eyes turned suddenly alarmed before shuttering off completely.
Behind Spike, Xander said, "Count me in. That sounds a lot better than what mom's cooking at home. Liver and onions are no one's friend; take my word for it."
Lindsey bumped Spike's shoulder with his foot. "Hey. Earth to Spike. Are you staying? Or do you have a hot date to get to?"
Spike swallowed hard and stood hurriedly, nearly falling in his haste. Grabbing his coat off the bed, he forced his eyes away from Angel's and glanced at Lindsey and Xander, mumbling something about forgetting he had a dinner date with his dad that night. Not waiting for their reaction, he started for the door, beyond thankful when Angel stepped out of his way so that he wouldn't have to touch him in any way. With nothing but the thought of getting out of there as fast as possible running through his head, Spike made a beeline for the front door and didn't stop until he'd reached the private lift just outside it.
He heard the door to the penthouse open and close behind him and squeezed his eyes shut, praying it was Lindsey or Xander.
"Spike."
Bugger. No such luck.
Not turning around, Spike wondered for a second if Angel would go away if he just ignored him. A hand on his shoulder told him otherwise.
Jerking away from Angel's touch, Spike turned on him, suddenly furious. "You right bastard."
Angel took a step back, looking a little taken off guard by the magnitude of Spike's anger. They stared at each other for a long moment and Spike, too angry to see straight, ignored the lift as it dinged open.
After several heartbeats, Angel's expression shuttered off again and he broke eye contact, looking at a point on the wall over Spike's shoulder. "This is why I didn't tell you from the start."
Spike took a step forward. "This, Angel, is because you didn't tell me from the start."
Angel's eyes flew back to his. "You mean, if I had told you who I was from the start, you would have --"
Spike snorted in disgust. "Of course not, pillock. You're Lindsey's bleedin' father, for fuck's sake, step or not. You raised my best friend. Soddin' hell, mate, you could have raised me! Wouldn't have touched you with a ten foot pole if I'd known."
Angel's expression clouded. "So what are you saying?"
Spike stared at him for a long moment, jaw clenched, before he said through his teeth, "I'm saying, we never should have happened."
Angel took a step forward and Spike took an answering one back. Angel stopped and said, "Spike --"
"Don't! Don't try to explain, don't try to rationalize." Spike turned away, then turned back and asked, "What was I? A bleedin' pastime? Your midlife crisis a few years early, maybe?" Spike's eyes narrowed. "Or was it something else?"
Looking confused, Angel asked, "What are you talking about?"
Suddenly sick to his stomach, Spike asked, "Was I a substitute for Lindsey?"
Angel's face registered disgust. "Of course not. How could you even --"
"How could I? I'm not the one who seduced his son's best friend under false pretenses, knowing that friend would have never gone along had he -- I -- known the truth! Is that it? Lost all the control you had over Lindsey when he went off to uni, so you decided to try it out on me with a twist?"
Angel's face shifted from disgust to anger. Spike knew he was pushing it too far, knew what he was saying wasn't true, but he was angry and hurt and, frankly, a little horrified to find out he'd been thinking of letting his best friend's father fuck him in just a few days. Soddin' hell. He'd sucked him off only four days before.
Angel took a menacing step forward. "Listen you little…."
Spike, eyes wide and not afraid to admit he was, well, a bit afraid of Angel for the first time, stood frozen to the spot, watching warily as Angel composed himself and took a step back again. "Sorry. I just…don't take well to being accused of being a pedophile. There's a reason I waited until you were eighteen to initiate anything."
Spike nodded his head. He couldn't blame him for getting so angry at that, not really. "Right. Think I'll go now before either of us says anything else we're going to regret later."
Angel hesitated, then nodded.
Stomach in his throat, Spike stepped back onto the waiting lift -- one of the advantages of private lifts, they didn't disappear on you if you didn't get in them immediately -- and watched Angel watch him as the doors slid shut, leaving him alone in the metal box, Angel's hurt-filled expression burned into his mind.
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