Spike really liked working at Seven. Not that he fancied the music, but the atmosphere was intense, and working at a club meant not having to get up early in the morning, which probably was a good thing for all living creatures within a 3-mile radius. Of course it was also a great place to pick up chicks. You gave them a sexy smile with their drinks, tossed them a few compliments, and they often were more than willing to wait until his shift ended for some extracurricular activities. That was before Angel, of course, but his supernatural force of seduction was still useful for bringing him big tips. No use in wasting a god-given talent.
Musically speaking, this was a significantly better night than usual. Once in a while, Seven had theme events and his ears got some rest from annoying one-hit-wonder club songs. Of course, the theme events could result in some really horrible genres, like that semi-ironic country night a month ago when people got half off the cover charge if they wore a cowboy hat. Bloody tragic. But tonight they had a rock theme; good rock too, not that new crap like Linkin Park and P.O.D. He closed his eyes and nodded his head to the music. "I love this song!" he exclaimed enthusiastically.
Xander grimaced. "This isn't music, this is loud sounds, sinisterly arranged for maximum annoyance." He had to shout to be heard over the seemingly endless riffs. "What it this anyway? Sounds like Celine Dion on speed."
"No blasphemies in the presence of AC/DC!" Spike replied, only half joking.
Xander just shook his head and got back to taking orders.
Spike's eyes turned to one of the eager customers at the other side of the counter. "Martini," the man said with a faint slur. Spike nodded and reached for a bottle. As he stretched out his arm, he made a sudden involuntary grimace.
"Hey there, better take it easy with the clubbing in the future." Xander said, somewhat amused when he spotted Spike's predicament.
"I'm guessin' it's more of a boxin'-related problem," Spike said as he started pouring the drink.
"Buffy's started teachin' me boxin', today," he said matter-of-factly.
"Weren't macho enough, huh?" Xander looked a bit grumpy. Of course Spike was going to start boxing. Like Xander wasn't feeling enough like Jimmy Olsen already when Spike was around. His recent gay-related humiliation didn't help either. On the other hand, Spike's man on man action always made him seem cooler for some reason. Great. Just great.
"There's no such thing as 'macho enough'," Spike said with a smirk.
When he turned to get the shaker, he suddenly heard a familiar voice behind him. "Sex on the beach, please."
Spike's heart jumped in his chest, and he turned around. "Hello Angel," he said in a low voice. Angel watched him with a look that would steam up windows if there had been any around. Spike replied with a sexy grin. "What do you know, Liam at Seven?"
Spike saw Xander in the corner of his eye, frowning at Angel's presence, but had no intention of acknowledging it.
"What, I can't go to clubs?" Liam leaned on the counter, trying to look casual but failing miserably.
Spike wasn't sure if it was the shirt, the posture, or the way he talked, but Angel seemed completely out of place. He was the kind of guy who could be standing in the middle of an amusement park, dressed up as a mime, and still look like a lawyer. Must be the aura or some other New Age crap. "Well, you can, you just don't," Spike chuckled. "You better watch out, or the middle-class filth might rub off on you."
Angel snorted. "I'll live." He paused and leaned closer. "I was bored and thought I should check in on you."
Spike grunted a little. "Gee, thanks, dad, but don't worry. All the kids here are nice, and I'm stayin' out of trouble."
Angel's smile faded a little. "Just wanted to see you. Is that a problem?"
"No. Definitely not." He wanted to kiss Angel really badly. Not that Angel would let him, of course. Not here. In fact, even showing up here and talking to him was a surprisingly indiscreet action for Angel.
Something flickered in Angel's gaze. "Got a break soon?" His voice suddenly sounded smoother.
"Actually I haven't had one all night." Spike tilted his head curiously.
"Well, then, it's about time." Angel threw Spike a glance and started walking towards the back of the club, his eyes scanning the area.
Spike quickly served the drink and followed Angel like an obedient little puppy. When Angel headed towards a door marked staff only, Spike walked up to his side. "Where are we goin'?"
Angel didn't answer; instead he opened the door and pulled Spike into the short hallway on the other side. As his back hit the wall and Angel's tongue slipped into his mouth, Spike's brain instantly turned all frayed and fuzzy. It was always like this when they kissed. The taste, the texture of their tongues sliding together, the way Angel's body felt pressed against his, the way Angel smelled; the synergy of the experience was just plain heady.
In Spike's current state, it took him a couple of minutes to become vaguely aware of some sounds coming from the office at the end of the hallway. Before he knew what was happening, Angel had pushed him through a door right next to them and he found himself tumbling into a dark supply closet. Angel quickly closed the door and pulled away slightly, leaving an arm resting firmly on Spike shoulder from behind as if to tell him to keep calm. It didn't take long before Spike heard a door opening and the voices of his boss and some other guy leaving the office.
Through the fog of his horny mind, he noticed to his discontent that the men had stopped in the hallway while continuing their conversation and flipping through papers. Spike sighed. His mum and pretty much all the rest of the family had this little habit. They said goodbye, then stood in the entryway talking for an hour before finally leaving. And he didn't really feel like standing silently among straws and napkins for the rest of his shift.
Suddenly, he heard the faint sounds of Angel moving behind him, and felt his hot breath hitting his ear. "Seems like we have a little problem here," Angel whispered, leaning up tightly against Spike's back.
"Oh yeah?" Spike whispered back. The lingering arousal from their kiss started growing again, making him feeling all hot and bothered. He was trapped in a small space with his hunky and horny boyfriend, risking being caught at any time. Yeah, this was fucking hot.
"But then again, I'm sure I could help you to pass the time." Angel pushed Spike slightly forward, careful not to cause any noise. When Spike placed his hands on the wall in front of him, Angel reached for his fly.
A very small part of Spike's increasingly foggy brain tried to alert him to the risk of what was going on, causing him to protest weakly. "I could get fired, you know," he whispered, more as a fact than an objection.
Angel's hand suddenly covered his mouth. "Yeah, you might, if you don't keep quiet."
Spike felt a rush of air as his pants slid to the floor, and heard Angel quickly undoing his own pants with his free hand. Spike's body was flushed with the sensations of a chill and an intensely heated feeling all wrapped into one. As his gut started stirring confusedly, he closed his eyes. He heard Angel reaching for a tube on a shelf next to him. The faint scent of hand lotion hit him only moments before he felt the head of Angel's slick cock pushing hard against his pucker. Before Spike could brace himself Angel pushed his rock-hard cock deep into his body, making him stiffen from the initial pain. Suddenly Angel removed his hand. "There, Spike," he said, kissing his neck. "Don't worry, I'll make it all better."
Without hesitation Angel started fucking him with long, hard strokes, his balls thumping against Spike's ass and upper thighs. The pain immediately faded as he was overtaken by pleasure. Behind him, he could hear the faint but controlled sounds of Angel's rapid breaths. Though Angel was a passionate lover, he always had complete control. He never came before he chose to, never made a sound that was purely spontaneous, never got lost in the moment. He also always had complete control over Spike. Angel often made an intricate art of teasing him until he begged for mercy. This time, though, there was no teasing involved. He hit Spike's prostate every time in that forceful manner that usually made him moan and writhe and holler. Spike felt the rugged surface of the wall pressing hard against his forehead as he tried his best not to alert the men at the other side of the door to their presence. Self-discipline wasn't Spike's strong suit, and when he fucked he didn't hold back anything. Struggling with his reactions, he gripped the end of the shelf next to him and choked back a moan. It felt so good, so very good. As a small gasp slipped from his lips, he heard Angel's strained whispering voice behind him. "Better watch it. You don't want your boss to find you in his supply closet, getting fucked like little bitch, huh? What do you think he would say if he saw you taking it up your queer, lily-white ass," he hissed, increasing the speed of his thrusts. Spike swallowed and gripped the shelf even harder, feeling somewhat groggy, a knot forming in his stomach.
The muffled sounds of 'I Wanna Be Sedated' thundered through the thin walls, making him feel like he was in one of those music videos that MTV only broadcast after ten PM. Inevitably, his orgasm approached, and it felt like a big one. As Angel shuddered and drove into his body fiercely, he felt his ass fill with streams of creamy fluid. It was all it took to push him over the edge. He bit his lip hard, which probably would have hurt if his attention weren't otherwise engaged, and his throat tightened in a desperate attempt to hold back the soundtrack. Spike's entire body stiffened as he finally came. He slumped forward, letting his limp and sweaty body fall against the wall in front of him. Angel's frame rested heavily against his back, and he could feel Angel's chest rising and falling rapidly through the fabric that separated them.
Suddenly, Spike felt Angel pull away, and moments later there was a creaking sound, and suddenly the supply closet was flooded with light. "Angel!" Spike hissed, squinting against the fluorescent light in the hallway, but Angel just raised an eyebrow and held the door open, revealing that the men had left sometime during their fornication. Angel had managed to pull up his pants, and looked mysteriously fresh and composed, without even a spot of spunk on his wrinkle-free clothes. He looked at Spike in silence, crossing his arms. "Well, are you going to put you clothes back on, or are you going to stand there all night with your white-painted ass in the air?" Spike's eyes darted away. He reached for some napkins and started wiping the come that was running from his aching ass.
"When do you get off work?"
"Um... in an hour," Spike said, still short of breath.
"I'll drive you home," Angel said before walking off.
Spike heard the music suddenly flooding the short corridor before the door closed again. He closed his eyes for a moment, then started pulling up his pants with shaky hands.
When Spike walked back into the club, the music and the talking sounded louder than usual. He immediately noticed that Angel was seated at a small table close to the bar. He returned to his post behind the counter; Xander looked at him with badly hidden irritation. "Ehm... so, how was your break?" he asked after a while.
Spike glared at him. "Don't start with your bloody hate-Angel crap!" he snapped, surprised at how angry he sounded.
"Right," Xander said, backing away a little. "I'll be over here."
Spike's jaws twitched as he got back to mixing drinks in silence.
For the remainder of the night, he could feel Angel's eyes on him. Spike stirred, shook and blended, but his thoughts were of Angel. As the clock started closing in on two, he wiped his liquor-stained hands on his pants and turned to Xander. "Time to get the fuck out of here," he said.
"Good for you," Xander replied. "I'm stuck here with Deep Purple & Co for the rest of the night." He grimaced. "My mind is hurting."
"I'm sure it's just your brain gettin' rid of all the crap music you've been fillin' it with for years," Spike chuckled.
"Nothing wrong with crap music," a voice said from behind Spike.
"Really, Joan? Spike asked, turning to the skinny, blonde co-worker at his side.
"Yeah, sometimes there's nothing better than putting on Britney Spears and cranking up the volume." She smiled and put her hands on her hips. "It really clears your mind. Like valium but without the nasty chemicals."
"Well, I don't know if that's any better than chemicals. If anythin' would put me in a coma, Britney would," Spike said, smiling. "Anyway, I have to go now. I've got a boyfriend waitin'."
Joan sighed. "You're lucky. All I've got waiting for me when I come home is my goldfish and my Brad Pitt DVD collection. Not that Brad isn't nice and all, but plastic cases aren't all that cuddly in the middle of the night." She shook her head and chuckled.
Spike smiled and waved goodbye to Joan and Xander before heading to Angel's table. Right away, when he met Angel's eyes, he knew he was in trouble. "Hi Angel," he said with his sexiest smile, trying to improve Angel's mood. Angel didn't answer. Instead he just looked at Spike coldly and walked past him towards the exit. Angel had a real talent when it came to looks and glares. He was able to communicate more with a single gaze than most people could with half a monologue.
They walked in silence down the stairs, through the first floor and past the stereotypical bouncer and out to the wet and dark parking lot.
When they finally walked up to Angel's Lexus, Angel suddenly grabbed Spike's collar, leaning up close enough to project small, aggravated drops of spit when he started talking. "Do you fuck her?!"
"What?" Spike stared at him, confused.
"That blonde girl! Do you fuck her?!"
"Jesus Christ, Angel! No!" Spike grabbed Angel's hands and tried to pull them off him, but Angel wasn't budging.
"It looked like you were really friendly!" Angel leaned even closer, pushing Spike's back against the damp car.
"She's just my co-worker! I swear, Angel, I would never do somethin' like that!" Spike felt a twinge of guilt as he suddenly was reminded of the feelings that had fluttered through him during the conversation with Buffy earlier that day. It wasn't really a big deal. Feeling attracted to beautiful people was after all just human nature. But seeing the dark jealous look in Angel's eyes, he couldn't help feeling like his conscience was tainted, that Angel wasn't completely off. As his body went slightly limp under Angel's furious grip, Angel suddenly let go of his shirt. Spike fell back onto the hood with a thump. "You'd better not," he said in a voice that made Spike shiver. Angel leaned over him for a long, uncomfortable moment before pulling away and getting into the car, slamming the door shut with the trademark sound that only really expensive cars doors made. Spike stared at Angel through the window, then pulled himself up slowly and got into the passenger seat.
Angel suddenly let go of his shirt, and Spike fell back onto the hood with a thump. "You'd better not," he said in a voice that made Spike shiver. Angel leaned over him for a long, uncomfortable moment before pulling away and getting into the car, slamming the door shut with the trademark sound that only really expensive cars doors made. Spike stared at Angel through the window, then pulled himself up slowly and got into the passenger seat.
"Angel, I love you," he said desperately. "I haven't cheated on you, and I never will." Spike snaked his arms around Angel's neck and leaned his forehead against Angel's, closing his eyes. "I love you," he whispered.
After a moment, he felt Angel's arms around him, and his lips meeting Spike's in a soft kiss. "Good," Angel said. They stayed like that for several minutes before Angel finally spoke again. "I know I can go a bit crazy sometimes," he said quietly. "I just want to make sure that it's you and me."
"I'm yours," Spike said, pulling him closer, anxious to feel Angel body against his, to feel his smell. The knot in his belly was there again.
"Yeah," Angel answered, pulling him in for another kiss. "Mine."
Five months ago
Spike raised an eyebrow as he looked up at the house in front of him. This was one of those places that people lived in who wouldn't touch him with a forty-foot pole covered in antiseptic fluids. If a building could be considered a stuck-up bitch, this one was a clear candidate. It was designed in that übermodern style that made people who knew about this stuff go 'ooh' and 'aah' and made everyone else feel just plain stupid. It was made mostly of tinted glass, and had straight, asymmetrical lines that probably were supposed to create some fancy balance. Spike snorted when he noticed that some of the well-dressed passers-by looked at him with mild contempt. "Well, bugger them," he said to himself and walked to the front door. When he stepped into the cool and unnaturally silent foyer, he stopped for a moment, feeling out of place. He shoved his hands into his duster pockets.
"Excuse me?" a voice said from his right. When he turned he found that a receptionist with one of those painfully tight buns in her hair was looking at him questioningly. "Are you visiting someone in the building?" she asked, only barely visible behind the mastodon-like counter. She sounded highly skeptical.
"Well, yeah," he leaned over to read her nametag. "Naomi. Nice name. Just like the supermodel." He smiled broadly.
She rolled her eyes, "Well, Mr...?"
"Spike," he said, picking up a squared paper weight/sculpture/rodent smacker thingy from the counter and fiddling with it.
"Mr... Spike," she said with a cold smile, pulling the cube out of his hands. "Like I said, do you have any business here?"
"Yeah. Visitin' Angel. Um... Liam."
"Oh!" Suddenly she looked friendlier. "You're William? Your cousin said you would be coming by today. Sorry for the misunderstanding."
Spike didn't have the time to object before she continued. "Just take the elevator to the eleventh floor."
"Um... thanks," he said, scampering off to the metal doors at the back of the room with a confused look on his face. Eleven floors later he found himself standing in a long hallway. As he started walking along the corridor, he soon found his way to Angel's apartment. "And behind door C we find a hot sexy boyfriend, and a year's supply of shaggin'," he said before ringing the doorbell.
There were sounds of footsteps, then the door opened, revealing a smiling Angel. "Well, hello there, baby." He held the door open with one hand and placed the other in the pocket of his probably very expensive suit. Spike had a boyfriend who wore suits. How fucking bizarre was that? He would sooner have imagined Xander becoming a figure skater, Willow buying a Harley Davidson. Or Clem showering.
"You look great," Angel said, shamelessly checking him out.
"What can I say, I'm a real catch," he replied. Angel answered by leaning in, kissing him softly.
When they pulled apart, Spike narrowed his eyes playfully. "Are you this friendly with all your relatives?" he asked dryly.
Angel grimaced and motioned for him to come in. "I'm sorry about that." He closed the door and took Spike's duster. Now Spike took his first look at Angel's apartment. It looked like a set on The Bold and the Beautiful. Fancy furniture, perfectly combined colors, expensive-looking vases and stuff. When he turned to comment on it, Angel's apologetic eyes met his. "I just have to be careful," he said, touching Spike's cheek. "In my world, being gay isn't accepted."
Spike crossed his arms. "What, so you just pretend you like pussy to make people like you?"
"It's my private life. It's not anybody else's business." His thumb caressed Spike's jaw line lightly, making Spike unconsciously leaning into his touch. "Besides," Angel said, kissing him again. "I kind of like the idea of having you to myself." Spike returned the kiss, letting their tongues play against each other for a brief moment. "Time to eat, my love," Angel whispered against his lips. Taking Spike's hand, he led him into the kitchen.
Spike stopped at the threshold. "Wow," he said.
"Do you like it?" Angel asked, touching the small of Spike's back with his fingertips.
"Well, yeah." Spike was speechless. The kitchen was illuminated by at least a couple of dozen candles, and the table was beautifully set with flowers and everything. In the background he heard subtle jazz music at a low volume. Spike felt overwhelmed. Nobody had ever done something like this for him before.
"Let's eat," Angel said with a smile. Spike sat down at the table as Angel started serving the food.
Spike looked down at the dish in front of him. "Um... stew?
"Boeuf Bourguignonne." Angel poured the wine and took his seat opposite Spike. "You'll like it."
The warm flickering light painted Angel's face a golden shade. Spike couldn't help but think that it was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. Men really weren't supposed to think of each other as beautiful, but he couldn't help himself; he was lost in the moment.
"I'm so glad you're here," Angel said, taking Spike's hand in his. "You're really important to me, you know," he whispered, holding Spike's gaze.
Spike felt all warm and fuzzy. "Yeah. If you didn't have me, who would you use as your 'Who Wants to be a Millionaire' phone reference for those pesky punk rock and Monty Python questions, eh?"
"No, I just love you."
Spike smiled. "Another good reason." This was so bloody weird. Candles, jazz, food he couldn't pronounce, and Hallmark card dialogue. But he sure as hell wasn't complaining. In fact, he was almost giddy.
"Well, why don't you try out the food?" Angel's voice pierced through Spike's evaluating thoughts.
Spike stabbed the meat with his fork and put it in his mouth. The moment he started chewing he moaned a little and closed his eyes. "This is fucking great!"
"Well, I gotta have some redeeming features to make up for my lack of knowledge of punk rock and Monty Python."
"Maybe we could do an exchange. I can lie on a divan with my guitar and do a musical interpretation of 'Life of Brian' while you feed me." He chuckled and shoved another piece of meat into his mouth.
Angel started eating, still watching Spike. "I have made plans for us for this weekend," he said after a while.
"Really?" Spike said. "Do they involve lube?"
Angel chuckled. "Partly. I've made reservations at an inn just outside Miami for the weekend. It's my favorite place in the world. I can't wait to show it to you."
"Um... Wow." Spike looked up. He didn't see that one coming. "Sounds great, but I'm workin'."
"I know, I've got you schedule. But don't, worry, I talked to your boss."
Spike furrowed his brow. "You talked to my boss?"
"I said I was your uncle and that you needed some time off to visit your sick grandmother." Angel grinned mischievously. "He was very understanding."
"My, you're a real doer aren't you?" Spike raised an eyebrow. "How do you know my schedule, by the way?"
Angel took a sip of his wine. "I wrote it down from the note on your fridge when I was over at your place a couple of weeks ago."
"Oh?" Spike blinked. "Well, Miami sounds great." He paused. "But... I have this thing."
Spike put the fork down on the plate. "Yeah, with Xander. Fishin'. It's kind of a tradition, we do it every Fourth of July."
"Well... It's more about buddy bondin' than fish."
Angel leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "You seem to like this... Xander person a lot."
"Well, he's my friend, and..." his eyes widened. "Oh! Fuck no, it's not like that! Xander's straight!"
"So were you," Angel said shortly.
"Yeah, but..." Spike winced. "Dammit, now you gave me all these disturbin' images! Xander in my bed, wearin' a leopard-print thong! Thanks a lot, Angel. Now I have to wash my brain with bleach!" Spike shook his head, looking both amused and horrified.
"Well, you spend a lot of time with him. More than with me." Angel wasn't pleased.
"I guess I can cancel," Spike said with a smile, leaning over the table to take Angel's hand. "Miami sounds great."
Angel smiled back, giving him a short kiss. "Perfect," he said. "Now, why don't you finish your meal? I have plans for the night, and they definitely involve lube."
Spike tilted his head, grinning. "Well, that's my favorite kind of plans."