Title: Things Once Done Gladly
Rating: Adult (explicit sex)
Length: 1,392 words
Spoilers: takes place after AtS 5x18, "Origin"
Warnings: slash, use/abuse of the word "Da", Connor-flavoring, possible schmangst
Disclaimer: All belongs to Joss, ME and such; all for fun, not for profit.
A/N: Thanks to netweight for the look-over.
Spike stood by the kitchen counter, downed a beer, and said, “Well, guess that’s it then.”
“You’re sure the Reilly’s are back home? You made sure that they were inside the house and everything?”
Spike sighed and got another beer from the refrigerator, “Yes, Angel. I went in, tucked them into bed and told them each a bedtime story.” With that, he rolled his eyes.
Not always the swiftest center of the Apocalypse on the planet, Angel said, “Really? They invited you in?”
Spike went over to the couch, sat down nice and comfy, “Was only going to see them to the door. But the lad invited me in. Made a big production of it.” He took a swig. “Reads too many Anne Rice novels, I’d say.” He paused. “We hung about his room a bit.”
Angel sat down opposite him, “You did? You did that?” Spike could see nervousness, the wonder shimmering about his face. Didn’t want to know, but he leaned forward anyway.
“Look, Angel, I know this thing isn’t a thing,” and he paused to point between himself and the old man, “Or whatever word of the day you’re using.” He leaned in further. “But the boy’s a bit young. Even for you.” He took another swig. “I won’t be stalking him for you.”
Suddenly, Angel was across the coffee table, face inches away from Spike’s. “What are you suggesting?”
For once, Spike felt calm about this. “Lad smells like you. What am I supposed to think?”
Angel pushed Spike back on the couch, held him by the lapels, and said in that dangerously calm voice, the one that always prefaced a fist, “I would never do such a thing.”
“I believe you’ve hopped on the jailbait wagon before, Angel. Don’t tell me you grew a pair of morals about that over the last few years?” Spike grinned up at him while managing to keep his beer upright. Priorities. “Boy’s a bit of a looker, wouldn’t you say?”
Angel’s fist, that had yet to strike, just hovered in mid-air with that last statement. His eyes widened. “Spike. Spike, you didn’t...” He sat back. “Jesus, you didn’t...”
Spike sat back up, “No. No Angel, I didn’t.” He shook his head and said, “See, I’m not all about my dick.” He downed the rest of that beer. Priorities, again. “We talked about you mostly. Lord, he wanted to know all about you. Like I said, what am I supposed to think?”
Angel said, still looking shocked, “C’mon Spike, you’ve got a better nose than that.”
And Spike shook his head, “Yeah, I usually do.” He thought about it for a second. “Think I need another beer.”
From the refrigerator he said, “You know, the really odd thing about it is, he smelled like family. But he’s human.” He came back to the couch, plopped down next to Angel. Stayed quiet a bit.
Suddenly Spike, incredulous, turned towards Angel, “Is he a wee little Liam? One of your descendants or some such from your catting about as a man?” He snorted, “Connor Reilly, can’t get any more mick than that.” When Angel didn’t reply, he turned back to his beer, “Must be it then.” He closed his eyes and laughed softly, “You’re watching over the family tree.”
And then his more than a century as a demon came crashing into him in that room. Not only the things that he’d done, and done gladly, but the things that he couldn’t do now, the things that were taken away. With a catch in his voice, he whispered, “I’ll never have that.” He shook his head. “You lucky sod.” All he could do not to caterwaul or tear into the bastard right there. Just held his beer because his throat was too tight to drink it.
Angel’s hand cupped Spike’s chin, turned it towards him until Spike looked up into those brown eyes that had been shocked and angry just minutes before. Would call it compassion now if he thought the bastard would feel it for him.
“William,” Angel said simply.
And that wall between them shimmered, came perilously close to appearing as the illusion it really was. “Da,” Spike said. “Fuck you, just...Oh, Da.”
And the wall, she came a-tumblin’ down.
“Shhh,” Angel said while hugging Spike into his chest. “Will, hey.”
After Spike quieted, he said into Angel’s shirt, “You’re still a bastard.” But his arms, embracing that broad back, only held on tighter.
Angel smiled and said, “Don’t I know it.” And with that, he brought Spike up and kissed him, soft. Reached around and took the bottle away from him, placed it on the coffee table. Kissed Spike for a bit. “I’m a real shit,” he said, pulling back slightly, brushing one hand against Spike’s cheek. And with that, he avoided any avid agreement Spike might have made by kissing him again.
Soon Spike pushed a willing Angel back on the couch. He whimpered against his mouth, on top of him, grinding, “Want you.” He rose up, straddling Angel, threw the duster to the floor, pulled off his shirt. “Enjoying the view?” he said while slowly rolling his hips into Angel’s bulge.
Angel had his hands behind his head, ground his hips back up into Spike. “Oh, yeah. Why don’t you work it a bit?”
And Spike didn’t mind obliging. Not this. So he continued undulating against Angel, alternating rhythms, ran his hands along his chest, played with his nipples, got’em good and hard. Felt Angel’s hands grab his hips, heard him hiss, “Yeah, like that. Work it.” So Spike threw his head back, one hand feathering his neck, the other coursing down towards his waistband, and really got going. Then, through the haze, he heard Angel say, “No. Too fast. Slow down. Fuck, slow down.”
So Angel pushed Spike back and said, “Take the rest off.”
Never taking his eyes off of Angel, he unlaced, kicked off the boots, wriggled out of the jeans. “Maybe we should take it back there,” Spike said, nodding towards the bedroom.
Angel nodded in agreement and shed his clothes along the way...
Angel was on his knees behind Spike, driving in hard, relentless. “You feel that?” he ground out, balls slapping hard against Spike’s arse. Angel reached down, gripped one bum cheek, pinched it hard. “That’s my ass. Mine.”
“Fuck, yeah,” Spike panted into the crook of his elbow, one of his hands reaching up to pull himself. “Oh fuck, yeah.” Argue about whose arse it was later. ‘Cause this? This was a fullness that pushed him past all hunger, all pain. This was a bliss that drove him further than his face in the pillow. This drove him past that voice that always seemed to be screaming inside his head. This drove him home.
And Angel’s voice, behind him, rose as his hand ran down Spike’s back, “Fuck, Will. Oh Jesus. Will.”
Sent Spike right over the edge it did, made him clamp down hard on Angel’s cock as he came. Angel didn’t last long after that. Just collapsed on top of him, ground Spike into the wet spot, shuddered a bit.
Angel didn’t roll off but rather rolled them both to their sides, mouthed Spike’s neck, his ear. “Will. Jesus.” Shuddered a bit again. He pulled out but kept on spooning Spike, wrapped his arms around him, nuzzled his neck a bit more. “God, that was just...”
Spike sighed, pushed himself back into Angel, nestled. “We never had a problem in that department, Angel.”
Now Angel sighed, slowly ran a hand across Spike’s chest, pulled him into a tighter embrace. “I know,” he whispered. “I wish...”
“Don’t,” Spike warned. Knew Angel was going to bugger it with his mouth. For wishes? Wishes were dangerous things. “Just don’t.”
He rolled about to face Angel. Looked at him for a bit as Angel looked back. “Hey,” he said and kissed him. “Should get going, yeah?”
Angel’s face crumpled slightly, “No,” he said, “ Stay.”
“Alright,” Spike said softly. “Alright.”
And they said nothing for a good long while. But eventually Angel said, “So, what did he say about me?”
Spike laughed, “You want to know? Nothing bad, if you can believe it. Thought you were kind of cool, and fuck all but that’s a quote...”
And so they talked like that into the night...