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Author: [info]xanphibian and [info]ladycat777
Pairing: Spike, Xander, Angel (mix those around as much as you want)
Rating: NC-17, eventually
Summary: A Second Season AU. Angel's a bit more gray, Spike's a bit more lonely, and Xander's kinda confused.
Disclaimer: Not ours, poor, don't sue us
Feedback: We're WHORES. We love it. We hope you love it as much as we do. It's a WIP. It's going to be long.






Triptych


by
Lady Cat & Xanphibian





Part One

Spike's not adverse to reading, but you can only read so much. He's hungry, too. It's making him irritable and bored. A quick kill is what he needs - not a real involved one, just a hunt, a bit of a fight, and then supper. No big deal, just to settle him down some. Except noooo. He's living with Angel, the souled bastard, who says if he wants to stay not-dusty, then he's got to eat the meals Angel gives him - from a sodding blood bank. Has to reheat it in the bloody microwave, like a human with leftovers. If he thought his punishment would be a good lashing or a few hours of exquisite torture, he'd be out there right now, finding the first hot body that looks tasty enough. But this is one thing Angel's completely adamant about.

Spike doesn't go out and feed. No arguments, no second chances. If Spike hurts a human, that's it. He has to leave.

And Spike doesn't want to. It's galling, really, being tied down by the same morals that Angel's worked out for himself. Not that Angel's really all that moral, when it comes down to it. He still hunts - often with the little blonde Slayer that's decided her own souled vampire makes good back up, to Angel's ambivalent agreement. Still fucks, as hard and as bloody as Spike remembers it, too. And that's all he really needs, isn't it? A fuck and a fight. Maybe a bit of companionship. Someone to talk to.

Well, that's all he needs now that he's convinced Angel they should move out of this cramped apartment to an old, abandoned mansion. Add in some cable, maybe a stereo system, and Spike's content. Mostly. He tosses the book down on the table, scowling at it. Not brooding, the way Angel does, sometimes.

A thumping sound makes him look up. A heartbeat. Close. Easy to pick out, since he hasn't heard one in days. He hasn't left the apartment since he got here. Curious, he moves closer to the door. He isn't going to open it for anyone who doesn't have a key, but still. Why would a human be coming here? Maybe Angel would relax the no-biting rule for one of those stupid bible-salesmen?

Who knew a knock could sound annoyed? Spike's curious, but he doesn't open the door. Just stands there, waiting to see what'll happen. The knock sounds again, a bit more irritated. "Angel, you there?" The voice is slightly muffled through the door, but Spike can hear it just fine. Male. Young. And just as annoyed as the knock. The curiosity gets the better of him and he unlocks the door. Leans against the door frame nonchalantly. "Who're you?" he asks, watching the boy take a step back.

Dark eyes go wide in surprise, long limbs tripping over themselves. "Who're you?" the boy asks, then recovers quickly. "I'm looking for Angel. Is he in?"

"No."

The single word seems to stir the brewing agitation. "Do you know when he'll be back?" the boy demands.

"No."

The boy's face reddens and Spike watches in amusement. "You got a name?" he asks casually. "Maybe I'll jot a message down for you." He has no such intention and he knows that's apparent, but he feels like playing.

The boy glares. "I'll just wait for him," he says stubbornly.

"Suit yourself," Spike says. He turns around, leaving the door wide.

The boy edges in a little further. "So Angel never mentioned having a roommate," he comments.

Roommate? Spike rolls his eyes, sitting in his previous spot. "Angel doesn't mention lots of things."

The boy nods. "Yeah, it's not like we're buddies or something." He walks in a bit more, looks around. "What's with the boxes?"

That's not a question Spike wants to answer - it's probably better that little nosy humans not know where they are. "Just boxes."

"Looks like Angel's going somewhere," the boy says, a little too shrewdly for Spike's taste.

"So? He goes where he wants."

The boy just looks at him. "And you follow?"

"You got a name? Or've you learned to respond to 'insolent brat'?" Strange human comin' into his home, asking him questions about Angel with nary a name or a reason? Spike's bored, but he's not that bloody bored.

The boy flushes and his heart rate picks up. Not much, just enough to make Spike pause and look at him. Kid's pretty when he's got a bit of color in his cheeks.

"Xander," he says, a little less bratty than before. A lot less, actually.

Well, well. That's interesting. Xander's one of the Slayer's little human friends - Spike recognizes the name, and now that the thinks of it, the description, too, from some things Angel's said. But that's not why he smirks and slouches more comfortably, legs spread wide. "The Slayer's little puppy," he says consideringly. "Now, why's a boy like you in the home of a vampire?"

Xander frowns and looks confused. Spike wants to grin; the boy's lost his ground fast, gone from cocky show dog to just-weaned pup in a matter of seconds.

"Have to ... get some information," the boy says finally. He looks so insecure up against the wall, staring down at his scuffed sneakers.

"Information? 'Bout what?" Curiouser and curiouser, Spike thinks. He knows the boy's not the weakling he's playing at, now - if he was, he'd've died already, running with a Slayer like he did. Points for him. But he was so very pretty blushing like that. "Might be able to help you." He lets his tongue curl, running his eyes up and down the boy's body blatantly. "If I feel like it."

There's that blush again, only now it isn't just a light pink, it's real heat, and Spike suddenly has the urge to feel it. Xander shifts on his feet, obviously nervous and ... what's this now? A bit aroused as well. Spike's grin widens as the boy stammers. "I ... just about ... there's something killing kids, leaving this ... blue stuff behind. Powdery stuff. We can't, um, find it in the books."

"And so you came here. Clever boy." Another flush, and a hint of that arousal. Angel'd mentioned the boy was a treat, but Spike hadn't thought he meant like this. "Think of this one all on your own, did you?"

Xander nods, a little embarrassed. Modest. "We weren't getting anywhere, I thought maybe ... maybe Angel'd know something."

Bingo. Spike can smell the surge of arousal the minute Xander mentions Angel. Oh, yeah. This is much more interesting than reading Ivanhoe. Again. "Well, Angel's gonna be out for a while, like I said. So how about you ask me - am a vampire, after all."

Xander actually gulps. Spike can hear it clear as day, and he wants to laugh but he'd hate to scare the boy off. Those dark eyes are wide, and his hand pats at his pocket seemingly automatically, probably where he keeps a stake. "Are you ... like Angel?"

"You mean, was I cursed by gypsies with a soul, then run around for a few decades off my rocker?" Spike says irreverently.

"That a no?"

The boy's eyebrow is up, his mouth quirked sarcastically. It's as pretty as the blush that still hasn't quite faded - and it's nice to see the boy's got a sense of humor. Spike laughs, pleased. "That's a no."

Xander looks at him intently. "You gonna bite me?"

Spike considers that carefully. He wants to say yes - wants to see the boy flush with fear and adrenaline, see if maybe he'll get more aroused, like Spike thinks. But Angel's told him no biting, which he's promised to abide by, and given the ponce is hovering in the doorway, eavesdropping shamelessly, Spike can't even tease. So he makes a more obvious show of thinking, smirking as his eyes flicker over the boy's face and body - and sure enough, there goes the fear and the arousal, without Spike having to say a word. It's bloody delicious, it is. He likes this boy.

Angel clears his throat.

The boy lets out a sound that's almost a squeak, jumping like a frightened mouse at the same time, his face going pale. "Angel!" he says breathlessly. "I didn't ... Dammit! Don't do that!" His flush returns quickly, though, and he loses the fear smell.

While Angel comes inside, not deigning to answer, Spike notices an interesting thing. The boy's arousal hasn't wavered for an instant. If anything, it's gotten stronger.

"Spike," Angel says, and it sounds like a warning. "You aren't scaring the boy, are you?"

"Would I do something like that?" he asks, affronted. Well, pretend-affronted since yeah, he would. He gives the boy a heated look. "Xander here needs some information. Dead students and blue powder, wasn't it?"

Xander shakes his head. "Kids. Like, eight year olds." He looks at Angel, and suddenly he's all business, although Spike can see he's still half hard in his pants. "Three dead so far, the last two nights. No punctures or blood or any other visible sign of death, just blue powder left on their skin. We got a sample from the morgue but so far, no luck."

Angel nods. "I've got some books I can check. Why don't you head back before it gets dark, Xander, and I'll get in touch if I find something."

So Angel's looking at him over Xander's head. No, not looking, more like glaring. There's no way he's missing the arousal in the room; there's nothing subtle about the scent coming from the boy. Spike just smirks and ignores the other vampire, looking at the boy, instead.

"That's right, little boy, you just run along," he says. "Not safe for you to be all alone in the dark."

Xander's eyes dart to Spike, and then away, and he's blushing more, but smiling a little at the same time. After he leaves, Spike inhales deeply to capture the boy's scent.

"No," Angel says, closing the door firmly.

Spike rolls his eyes. "Wanker."

"I mean it Spike. No."

"Don't know what you're talkin' about," Spike says innocently, putting his feet up on the coffee table and looking bored.

Angel sits on the sofa, glaring.

Spike grins and runs his hand over his crotch. "Smelled good, yeah?"

"I'm not discussing this."

"Yeah, you are," Spike says. He gets up and leans over Angel, nips his cheek playfully.

"Stop it," Angel says, trying to bat him away. He's not really serious about it, though, or Spike would already be on his ass.

Spike gives him a genuine smile and straddles his lap. "Boy likes you," he says. "Likes me, too."

"You haven't even been in town a week, Spike, and already you're looking to corrupt the locals?" Angel says. He's amused, sounds a little more laid back than a few minutes ago.

"Nah," Spike says, then shifts up and grinds his ass against Angel's erection. "Not done corrupting you, yet."

He's sure to keep Angel too busy to warn him off the boy after that. Spike has his own plans, but he'll be keeping them to himself for now.





Part Two



Spike starts watching. It begins as a casual thing: watching Xander play the big manly man while he patrols with the Slayer, walking home from the library after dark. If Spike happens to be in the area, that kind of thing. But pretty soon Spike knows the boy's schedule. Knows the best places to hide when he's walking home and the easiest ways to avoid the Slayer's vamp-detection hardware. It's not an obsession, he cautions himself. Just something to do. Something interesting, in case the boy happens to blush so pretty or snap that smart mouth of his. That's all.

That doesn't explain, though, why it's eleven o'clock on a Thursday night and he's watching the boy's house.

Tossing away a cigarette, he's about to give up and go kill something when the front door eases open and a white-faced Xander hurries out into the night. It's not the first time the boy's snuck out. It is the first time he carries a blanket and heads towards the small park near his house, head down and feet shuffling a bit. Like he's upset. Not paying any attention, even though it's dark and this is Sunnydale.

Spike falls into step beside him. "Bit late for a walk, little one," he says softly. Xander's bitten off shriek and shivered jump makes him smile. "Shouldn't you be snug in your bed 'bout now?"

"What -- what are you doing sneaking around like that?" Xander says after he catches his breath enough to speak.

"What are you doin' walking around the Hellmouth at night?"

Xander frowns. "I know what I'm doing. And what do you care? And ... and what are you doing here?"

The bravado is as strong as ever, but there's true fear underneath. Spike circles around him slowly. Eying him. "Creature of the night, here."

A loud crash from the boy's house interrupts whatever Xander wants to answer with. Spike stares behind him for a bit. The house is dark, foreboding, but for one single window still shining. There are shadows moving inside the light. "Got an extra bed, if you want it." His voice is even as he offers. He's serious, after all.

"Like I'd want to ..."

Another crash and the boy seems to reconsider.

"Well, uh, maybe just for a little while."

Spike nods and starts walking back towards the mansion. He doesn't say anything – not really anything to say. He knows his silence is unnerving, but after a bit the boy stops breathing funny and looking over his shoulder.

"I, uh, really appreciate this," Xander says. He chokes on the words, but Spike doesn't think it's because he's hesitant to thank him. Seems more like he's just not used to having any kindness to be thankful for.

Spike shrugs. "We live in a mansion. Not like we don't got the rooms." Except. . . "Er, may not be very clean," he half apologizes.

Xander shakes his head. "Doesn't matter," he says, smiling ruefully. "I'm sure it's better than a sleeping bag on the lawn."

"Done this before?" Spike's not sure why he's being so, well, nice. Oh, he likes the boy. Likes the way Angel likes the boy even more. But despite the various 'payments' he can extract from this situation, Spike doesn't think he'll actually do anything. "The sleepin' out thing?"

Xander shrugs and doesn't answer.

"Ah. Right then." Spike lets the conversation go. It's a short walk to the mansion, and he spends most of it trying to think of explanations for why he was doing this. The boy isn't going to question him on it – too lost in his own humiliation – but Angel will.

"Hey, when we get there, don't say anything, yeah? Let me handle the ponce."

"Angel?"

"Yeah, Angel, who do you think I meant? Just keep your mouth shut and let me do the talkin'."

"Okay."

He sounds mulish, like he's upset, but Spike doesn't care. Angel's precious soul stops him from hunting and killing humans, but it doesn't make him care about them. Spike's always cared more than is healthy, even without a soul. "Look, Angel gets – testy, sometimes. That's all."

Xander nods. He stays behind Spike when they enter the mansion, shy little boy who doesn't want to get in trouble. It makes Spike feel a bit like a big brother – only not near as wholesome.

Angel's upstairs. Spike can hear him pacing and muttering a bit. The words are immaterial – Spike knows his Sire's hard and waiting, he has been since before Spike'd left. He glances back towards Xander. Boy's looking around wide-eyed. "There's a sofa thataway," Spike points. "S'clean enough. Got some blankets by it, too."

"You're leaving?" Xander asks, and Spike's got to admit he sort of likes the disappointment in the boy's voice.

"Well, there're these nice big windows," Spike points out reasonably. "Don't have those upstairs."

"Where's Angel?" Xander says, dropping his voice to a whisper.

Now why's the boy gone all nervous and scared-sounding? "Upstairs. Just gonna, uh, say hello and such." Get pounded into the floor, more-like.

Xander bites his lip, looks away. "Will you be back down?" He says it like it's a little nothing question, but Spike sees the way the boy's looking at him out of the corner of his eye with quick little glances.

He can't help it. The shy little attitude, the way he's so desperate for company – Spike's cock hardens. "Dunno. You want me to?"

Xander's breath catches, Spike can hear it, a little breathy 'ah' right there in his throat. "If you want," he finally answers, and Spike has to strain to hear it, preternatural hearing and all.

He smiles with his tongue curling a little. Can't help it, with that little bit of 'I don't need you' undercurrent. "Might. For a bit." After he's made sure Angel is near unconscious first, anyway. "Make sure you're all tucked in like a good boy?"

The boy's heart rate quickens, and there's that delicious flush again. Yeah, he likes it. "'K," Xander whispers.

Just to prove he's still evil, Spike pats the boy's shoulder, lightly brushing his fingers over the boy's chest 'on accident'. There's almost a whimper this time, and Xander's heart rate is trip-hammer fast. Lovely. "Later, little one," he says and heads upstairs.

* * * * *

Xander dozes lightly, but wakes soon after. He feels – he guesses insecure is the word – and can't really fall deep enough into sleep to actually stay asleep.

He sits up and looks around, kind of holding himself and wondering where Spike is.

He's never been to the mansion before. He always volunteers to be the runner when Buffy needs Angel's help, but since the move, either Angel or Spike finds him first. It's spooky, but Xander understands guys who want their privacy.

A sound like a cry of pain disturbs his explorations.

He listens again, then follows what he hears. Up the stairs, down the hallway that leads to the right. It's dark, close, and his heart is pounding in his chest.

He's touching the partially open door before he realizes that what he's hearing isn't pain at all. Spike's ragged, "Fuck!" is tense and heavy but lacking in any aversion.

The door opens just enough so that he can catch the sight of them, and Xander slaps a hand over his mouth before he makes his presence – his surprise – known.

Spike is on his knees, gripping the headboard until the cheap metal buckles under his fingers. He's naked. Angel is behind him, also naked. They're moving, sinuously writhing in a way that leaves Xander no doubt as to what they're doing.

Spike moves, bucks back and moans, and that's when Angel's hand pushes down on the back of his head, large and forceful, a little affectionate. "Stop squirming, boy."

Xander almost groans at the endearment. He's hard, throbbing inside his jeans, and he has to bite his own hand to keep from making a sound. He wants – he doesn't know what he wants. Just that he's seconds from coming just by watching them move together.

He moves back, away from the door, even though he wants, he wants ... He hurries back down the hall in the direction he came. Nearly runs down the stairs and doesn't stop until he's back on the dusty couch, sitting and gripping the edge like it's a lifeline. He closes his eyes and all he can see is Angel, and Spike, and AngelandSpike, and he can hear their voices in his ears still, Angel's "boy" and Spike's "little one" and he's so turned on he's shaking.

Xander doesn't know how long he sits there. He knows that eventually the cries from upstairs taper off, and that it's time for him to go to sleep now. Or just take out his dick and masturbate – fucking you, little one – but he can't. Just stays there, shaking, until Spike comes downstairs.

"Naughty," Spike says. "Peeking in doors you shouldn't be."

Xander gulps. Spike's moving languidly toward him, like he's made of nothing but flowing sexual energy, and his hair is mussed and he looks good, and Xander can feel the heat in his face. He looks away, doesn't want to meet Spike's eye.

"Oh, but you liked that, didn't you? I knew you were there, little one. Could smell how hard you were."

Spike's close enough to touch now. Close enough that Xander can smell cigarettes and leather and something musky he knows is their come. "N-no," he stammers.

"No? No, you weren't there, or no, you aren't so fucking hard right now you're soaking through your pants?" Spike lowers his eyes slowly, a lazy drop of his eyelashes as he looks from Xander's crotch – hard, so hard – and then flicks his gaze back up to Xander's face.

Xander inhales to speak and chokes on his own wet breath. Spike's beside him in an instant, hand on his shoulder and his belly. He's saying something about 'calm down' and 'little one'. Xander wishes he would stop, because the slow, soothing circles rubbed onto his belly aren't really all that soothing.

"S-sorry," Xander says, and he doesn't know why he's apologizing, it just seems to come out automatically. He's sure he's done something wrong, he's always doing something wrong, so he just repeats that, "sorry, sorry," and Spike's touch just feels so good.

A cool finger touches his lips. "Shh, little one. Don't say sorry unless you mean it." The other hand is still touching him. Almost petting him, as the circles move lower and lower down his belly until the heel of Spike's hand brushes against the head of his cock.

Xander squeaks and jumps to his feet, breaking out of Spike's hold. He's scared, confused, aroused. "Wh-what are you doing?"

He doesn't even see Spike move. Just bam, and Spike's there again, holding his shoulder until it pinches and lightly cupping his groin. "Shhh. Not gonna hurt you, little one."

Xander swallows hard. It's – fuck, he's not going to think it's nice, because it's not. It's fucked up and wrong and Spike's a guy, and a vampire, and just a few minutes ago this guy vampire was fucking another guy vampire and ... why did he have to think of that? But Spike's just being gentle with him, just touching him like that, calling him 'little one' and it's ... it's more than nice. It's good. Fuck.

If Spike lets go, he knows he'll fall down. That's why he leans closer. So he won't fall down.

"Shhh," Spike whispers again. "Feels good, little one?" Spike's hands get a little firmer. Less touching and more light stroking.

"Yes," Xander whispers.

"Good. Like makin' you feel good."

Xander bites his lip and whimpers. His hips move a little and he bends his head, rests it on Spike's shoulder.

"Very nice." The words are quiet, but Xander hears them clearly. Feels them, rumbling through Spike's body. "S'a good boy, you are. Waiting down here church-mouse quiet. Waitin' for me, little one? For me to touch you like this?"

Xander speaks softly. "No, didn't think ... "

"Don't want this?" Spike moves away just a fraction, as if he's actually going to leave.

Xander's heart nearly breaks. He reaches out, touches Spike tentatively, trying to show him how he feels. "Didn't think you'd want me," he finishes in a whisper.

Spike silently considers him for so long that Xander's sure he's ruined it. But then Spike nods. He tugs Xander closer than before, his touch a little bit harder. It still feels good. Better than.

"Oh," Xander says, "oh," just little breathy sounds, all wonder and want.

"You sound so pretty, boy. I like that. Sound like you want me to do more than just touch you through your pants."

"I-I," Xander stutters, and he wants this, wants more, and all he can do is whimper and groan.

"That all you can do, little one? ‘I-I'?" Spike's grinning at him. Xander knows that even though he can't open his eyes to see. "Not very articulate. Do you want more, pet? Want me to open your pants and stroke you off for real?"

It feels unreal, standing here, Spike asking him this. He nods, though, quick short little jerks of his head. "Yes, p-please." He can't believe he just said that, can't believe he's letting ... god, he's not letting, he's begging, and Spike's got his hand on his zipper and Xander's so hot, his face and his body and his cock. He can't believe how turned on he is, never before like this, never this much in his life.

"Very polite," Spike approves. "I like that in a boy." The word goes straight-shot through his system, except that might be Spike's hand, deftly undoing the catch of his jeans and easing his cock out. Spike's hand is cool, and it just makes it feel better.

Xander realizes he wants to be good, wants to do things that Spike likes. So he repeats it, "Please, please," over and over, doesn't know what he's asking for, just wants Spike's approval, wants to ... something. He's not sure.

"That's it," Spike croons to him. He's stroking Xander's cock with just the tips of his fingers. Like a blind-person, Xander's mind supplies hysterically, seeing through his fingers. "You've a pretty cock, little one. You let anyone else touch it?"

Xander shakes his head, nonono, and he feels young when Spike talks to him like this, like a kid, and he doesn't know if that should skeeve him out or not but it doesn't, just makes him harder.

"No one?" Xander's not lost enough to miss the blatant self-satisfaction in Spike's voice. "I'm your first, then? The only one to do this?" His hand closes fully, making a fist.

"Yesss," Xander says, and he keeps his eyes open. Wants to see. "Only m-me, before ..."

Spike tsks him, nuzzling under his jaw softly. "Well, gonna have to change that, aren't we little one?"

Xander's still confused, and Spike keeps sending him off kilter again with the things he keeps saying. "What?" he asks, then groans again as Spike strokes him.

"Virgin," Spike taunts in his ear.

His face gets even hotter, his embarrassment flooding through his body, he can feel it spreading, deep red heat all over.

Laughing, Spike starts tugging firmly. "Not for long, anyway. Mmm. You smell good, little one."

Xander's close, and Spike's rubbing his shoulder with the other hand, reaching up to stroke his hair, and Xander ... Xander wants. Wants something. His knees start to buckle and Spike slips his arm around his waist, holds him up and he's still stroking. Xander's moaning, needing. "Please, please, Spike, please ..."

"Please, what? Tell me what you want, little one?"

Xander whimpers, he doesn't know what he wants, and he's ashamed of that. He doesn't want Spike to think he's stupid, that he can't make sense of anything, but that hand on his cock, it feels so good and he bucks once, twice into that hand and comes.

"Shhh," Spike soothes while he trembles. "It's all right. Still such a little boy."

Xander's laugh is a little high pitched, a sort of hysterical giggle. He doesn't answer, because ... what do you say to that?

Spike brings his wet hand to his own mouth and locks eyes with him. Xander can't look away, he's totally frozen, enthralled with the way Spike's tongue laps at the come on his fingers.

When Spike's finished, after he's licked every bit from his hand, licked between each finger to gather every stray drop, he grins. Leans in to whisper against Xander's mouth, and Xander can smell his come mixed with the scent of Spike's breath. "Taste good, boy," Spike murmurs, his lips grazing Xander's as he speaks.

Xander blinks stupidly, nodding. He feels fuzzy now, like he does in his room when he jacks himself off under his covers. Sleepy. Spike's smirking at him, but he's also helping Xander stretch out on the couch, so Xander doesn't mind the smirk.

"School tomorrow," Xander murmurs, then gets a little fuzzier as Spike pulls a blanket over him.

"Go to sleep, little one."

Xander yawns and closes his eyes, and he's already sinking into dreams when he feels a cool touch on his forehead, just enough to make him feel – something. He can't name it, it's not a familiar feeling, and he's too tired to think about it.





Part Three



Spike gives the boy one last touch on the forehead, then turns away, towards a shadowy corner. "Like the show?"

There's no overt sign that Angel's surprised, but Spike knows he is. "You shouldn't have done that," Angel rumbles.

Spike steps closer. Angel’s hard -- he can smell the arousal, thick and musky. "He wanted it. Begged me for it." He can't say anything else, though, because Angel's grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him close. The kiss is hard and hungry as Angel explores Spike's still-warm mouth with his tongue, and he knows Angel can taste the boy there, sweet and fresh.

"Know you liked it." The boy's breathing is slow and even. Sleep of the sated, but Spike still pushes Angel backward. He wants a little distance. "Specially," he teases," when I call him boy." He leans in and bites down hard on Angel's lower lip. Wants to hear him moan.

"Tell me," Angel says, letting Spike push him over to the foot of the staircase. "Does he tremble?" He pulls Spike down on top of him and licks at the side of his mouth. "Did you make him shake like a little leaf?"

Spike grins, rocking down a little. "I was his first," he whispers. "First one to take that pretty cock out and stroke it." Angel suits words to actions and Spike groans quietly at the caress. "Shook like a child, trembly and small. Felt so good against me, Angel."

"Tell me what he said," Angel says softly. He strokes Spike's cock lightly, and Spike knows he was standing there for most of it, knows he heard the boy's pleading and just wants to hear it again.

"Said 'please'. Over and over till it'd lost all meaning. Begging so sweet." Angel tugs him a little harder and Spike has to undress Angel too, feel him while he speaks. "Said sorry too. Just like a little boy, so sure anything he does is wrong."

Angel speeds up his strokes, and Spike moans and drops his head against his shoulder, just like the boy had done. He still has Xander's scent under his skin, and it's mixing with Angel's so beautifully that it's almost too much.

"Whimpers, too," Spike continues. Makes his voice go high and soft, breathless and just a touch afraid. "High in his throat. Can't quite groan cause he's breathin' too fast. So young, Angel, he's so perfect." His own breathing accelerates, the tightness in his gut telling him he's nearly ready to come.

"What does he want?" Angel asks, low rumble in his chest. "What's he need?"

Spike tries to remember what it was like. A young man being touched for the first time, fear and confusion and shame fading under the need for more. Not knowing what more is. Spike whimpers, thrusting back into Angel's lap. "Don't know," he says. "Just need -- need more -- "

"Need me to show you? Want me to teach you?" Angel says, his voice so gentle. He's touching Spike like it's the first time, just giving pleasure, jacking him with one hand and sliding his fingers over Spike's balls, back behind them to tease his hole. "I know how to take care of little boys."

Spike bucks back. "Yess. Want that ... please ..."

"You're so hard, see how hard you are?" Angel says. He brings his fingers up to Spike's face. "Suck on these, baby, get them good and wet."

Spike makes sure he keeps his mouth fumbling, unsure, as he sucks. This is what he wanted to do with Xander -- call him baby and watch his eyes go wide from shock, have those shaking hands touch Spike, and more. But he knows the boy has to be led slowly or he'll run.

"Good boy," Angel says, pulling his fingers out of Spike's mouth. Then one of those fingers is at his hole, and Spike clenches up tight, lets Angel soothe him before he relaxes. Angel works that finger inside, so slow and gentle, and kisses Spike's temple. "That's a good boy. You're so small around my finger, so tight. What's it feel like, baby?" Angel pushes in a little further and Spike moans.

"Hurts a little," he says in that soft, strained voice. In his mind, it's Xander panting and squirming 'round his fingers. He has to remember to convince Angel that it's Spike who's going to take the boy first. "Full. Like it -- it's stretching. I -- I like it," he adds, voice dropping in manufactured shame.

"Shh, it's okay if you like it, baby. I want you to like it, want you to feel good," Angel says. He pulls his finger out and starts pushing in two, stroking Spike's cock a little harder. It's hard for Spike to keep up the game, he can barely think he's so close, so turned on.

"You ready for me?" Angel asks. "Want you so much, baby."

"Want you, yes, please," Spike says, breathy little words as he rocks back and forth between Angel's hands.

Angel's chuckle is balanced perfectly between lust and care. "Good boy." Angel removes his fingers, cock lining up with practiced ease. He pushes in as slow as he can -- faster than Xander'd be able to handle -- but Spike wants it. Wants more. "Pleeease," he begs, high and breathy.

"You're so small baby, does it hurt?" Angel asks, stroking Spike's cock until he's panting for real, as needy as the boy.

"Yes. Huuurts." Whining comes easy, and he squirms a little. Tries to push Angel out, before wiggling him back in deeper.

"It's going to hurt a little more, baby. But I'm here, I'll take care of you." Angel thrusts in a little deeper, and Spike bites the inside of his mouth a little, just enough pain to make his eyes sting. He moans and sniffles, looks at Angel with wet, wide eyes.

A sound from the sofa makes them both freeze. A quiet little moan before the boy's breathing evens out once more. Spike groans, using that sound -- so soft and innocent -- to fuel this more. "Promise?"

"Shh, yeah, of course. You're such a good boy, my good boy, I'm gonna make you feel so good." Angel picks him up a bit, eases his cock in the rest of the way until he's buried deep, thick and hard inside him. For a minute, this is Spike's first time, and he's whimpering and sniffling, and Angel's stroking his hair and kissing his face tenderly, whispering, "Oh, baby, you're so sweet."

When Angel shifts and angles just right, Spike's so lost in the moment that he really does squeak. "Oh! Oh, that feels -- oh! Wh-what's that?"

"You like that, don't you baby? Like my cock in your little ass like this. Told you I'd make you feel good." He thrusts again and Spike moans, clutching at Angel's shirt.

Spike's legs tighten around Angel's waist. "More. P-please more." Angel's hands are so big on his hips, powerful. It makes him feel even smaller, younger, when Angel starts raising and lowering him.

"Touch yourself, baby. I want to see your hand on your little prick while I'm fucking you."

Spike frees one hand from around Angel's neck. Curls it loosely around his cock, panting. "Like this? Is th-this right?"

"Squeeze it, baby. Stroke it like I was doing before." Angel thrusts a little harder, and Spike can feel how rigid he is, how hard it is for him to stay in control while he talks.

He touches himself like he'd touched Xander. "F-feels good," he moans.

Angel groans and slams Spike down on his cock. He's not quite as controlled as he thinks he is. "Just like that, that's a good boy. Have you ever touched yourself like that?"

"Yeah." Shy, he ducks his head. "At night. Sometimes I -- I touch it."

"Bet you're really quiet," Angel whispers, then slams him down again. Spike's shaking now, feels as needy as the little boy as he squeezes his own cock.

"Yes. Have to be. C-can't let anyone hear." Memory of disapproving parents, jeering classmates swirl in his mind. "S'dirty."

"No, baby, not dirty. Doesn't this feel good?" Angel asks, bumping Spike's prostate again. "Don't you think I know what's best for you?"

"Yes. T-take care of me." He's gasping now. Doesn't need it, true, but in his head he's human again and needs the cool, sweet oxygen to cool the fire under his skin. He's close. "Please."

"Make yourself come, baby. Want you to ride me and touch that little prick of yours until you come. Come on, be a good boy for me."

It doesn't take much. A few more hard thrusts and one of the silky-soft tugs, and he's coming, emptying himself all over his hand.

"That's a good boy," Angel says. Then he starts moving, picking him up and slamming him down hard while Spike is still shaking, fucking him though his orgasm. Angel comes and pulls Spike close to him, holding him tightly, his face buried in his neck as he rides out the last shudders.

They stay like that till they're both calmer. "Mm," Spike says lazily. "Think we woke him?"

Angel lifts his head and glances over in the direction of the couch. Listens for a moment. "No." Angel's silent, thinking. He absently moves his chin over Spike's skin, stroking him. "I want to watch you take him."

"So long as I'm his first." Spike wants that. Almost hardens again as he thinks about sinking inside while Xander squeaks and pleads beneath him.

Angel chuckles and kisses Spike's hair. "Yeah, you can have him first. You'll be better for that, I think." He becomes silent, broody. After a while he says, "Never was all that gentle with the young ones."

Spike rolls his eyes. Disengages with a wince and makes a note to clean up that particular stair. "Yeah, yeah, weight of the world on you. My gain, innit? Get to break him in nice and sweet." He smiles at the thought, inviting Angel to join him. Isn't surprised when he doesn't.

"Sun's coming up," Spike says after a while, "and since you haven't draped the windows down here yet, I suggest we get upstairs to bed."

Angel nods and turns back towards the room where Xander lays, asleep. "And the boy?"

"He'll be going to school in a few hours. He'll be back, though." Spike is certain of that. He doesn't want to tell Angel *why*, though.

"No hurting him." Angel's voice is deceptively soft. "No doing anything he doesn't want."

Spike rolls his eyes, though he's grateful for the change in topic. "Yeah, yeah, no hurting him. Got to sleep, you great wuss."

Angel starts up the stairs, pauses like he's going to say something. He doesn't, though, just continues up. Whether he expects Spike to follow or not is vague.

"Wanker," Spike mutters, and follows.





Part Four



Xander's in a daze most of the day. That's not really a problem, though, since no one notices. Xander spends most of his time in a daze. At least while he's at school. He's supposed to perk up a little at the library, take some active interest in ... whatever Buffy's doing now. But he can't.

He tries. Makes jokes at all the right moments, even if they're bad by his standards, and tries to interject his normal level of slap-happiness. He knows it's a mockery. So does Cordelia who strides along side him as they trail after Buffy -- they're going to help her patrol, tonight, since she has a test to study for.

Xander waits for her to open her mouth and starts babbling. It's a defense mechanism -- big words, Willow would be proud -- and it's one he's honed to a fine art the last year or two. He babbles about school and slaying and how much he's not looking forward to it, careful to make sure he doesn't say what he is looking forward to.

He's not sure where he's going tonight. Lets the girl's giggling wash over him as he weighs pros and cons. Home pro: it's his home, after all, where his bed and all his things are. The con is that his parents live there, and all that brings (not abuse, just horribleickiness). The mansion is parent-free, but ... Xander doesn't know if Spike is a pro or a con. Or just really confusing.

The gay thing he could deal with. That was nothing, compared to everything else on the hellmouth. So, he liked it when a guy ... did that. So that made him, what, bisexual? Big deal. He could handle that. After a bit more quiet pondering and freakage. But the vampire thing. And the SpikeandAngel thing. And the little one thing. All adding up to a very confusing thing that Xander didn't know if he should even try to sort out.

"Hey, Xander!" Buffy's shout is almost welcome and he jogs closer. "You wanna cut out early?" she asks cheerfully. "Giles doesn't have to know ... "

"Sure," he agrees, even though it's the last thing he wants. Early means decisions. And Xander has no idea what decision to make -- so when his feet start taking him back towards his house, he goes with it.

Home is its normal miserable homeness, and Xander finds himself back in his old routine for the next few days. He tries to forget about Spike, and Angel, and SpikeandAngel and just tries to live his life like always. Except, of course, when it's very dark, and it's just the memory of Spike, or Spike and Angel together, rolling through his head as his hand moves under the covers.

He knows Spike is following him. Anytime he's out at night, there's a whisper of a shadow of a breath of air and he knows. It's almost reassuring, a phantom figure he knows will protect him. It's also creepy.

But he tries not to think about it, brushes it off, and gets on with his life. His life involves school (which he's not that great at) home (where he's alone in his room, more often than not) and Scooby meetings/slaying (which he's really trying to get better at).

It's Friday and Buffy wants to party. She's arguing with Giles, loud, mad, and bored -- a sixteen year old Slayer's mantra -- and Xander is trying not to get in the middle of it. He and Willow are hiding back by the stacks.

Finally, Buffy just storms off, leaving behind one very pissed off Watcher. Willow runs after Buffy, and Xander's left with Giles. "Um, is there anything I can do, instead of Buffy?"

Giles turns and glares. Xander knows he's not the reason behind the anger, but he still flinches back a bit. Giles seems to dismiss him and goes back to a book on the table. "And what exactly do you think you can do? I'm not looking for someone to idly flip through books or make jokes of ill-taste, Xander. I was hoping Buffy would get some actual slaying done."

"Oh. Okay." It's not the first times Giles has said something like this to him. It won't be the last, either, Xander knows that. But it hurts. So much that he doesn't want to stay there anymore -- and can't leave yet. "I'm sorry?"

"Just go on and leave, Xander. I'm sure there's much more for a boy your age to do than hang about a bunch of musty books." Giles dismisses him with a wave of his hand, and Xander's hit with another wave of hurt. He's not even wanted for his company.

"Okay. So, I'll just -- go." He hesitates one more second, but Giles isn't paying any attention to him. Just mumbling about something he's reading. Xander knows if he tries again, Giles will just look at him and say 'why're you still here' and he can't stand that. Can't. So he grabs his bag and hurries out, head down and his tail tucked between his legs.

It's dark already, the sun's been down for a while. There's a stake in his bag, but he doesn't have the energy to pull it out like usual. He sniffs a little and wipes his nose with his hand as he starts home.

"What's the matter, little one?" Spike asks from behind him. Xander stops but doesn't turn around, trying to convince himself and his now-racing heart that it's surprise and not relief he feels.

"Spike!" Xander hastily wipes his face again. "What do you want?"

Spike shrugs and falls into step beside him. "Nice night."

Xander swallows. "Um, yeah." He watches his feet as he walks, wonders if the vampire can smell misery.

"Haven't been by, lately. Thought you might come see me again."

Xander looks at Spike's face quickly to see if he's being mocked, but sees nothing but an honest expression. "Didn't know I had an open invitation," he mumbles.

"Now you do."

He bites his lip. "What about Angel?"

"What about him, pet?" Spike gives him a side-long look. It almost looks ... nervous?

"You ... and him. You're, um, together." He feels himself blush and is thankful for the darkness. "And I never really got the impression he liked me much."

Spike's mouth smirks, but his eyes are soft. "We're together. An' he likes you fine, little one. Told me himself you're welcome whenever you like." They walk silently for a while. "Fixed up one of the upper rooms for you. Well, cleaned it up a little, anyway."

Xander misses a step and Spike has to catch his arm to keep him from falling over. "Uh, thanks," he says. "You ... um, a room? For me?" He's a little disappointed as Spike drops his hold on his arm and continues walking.

"Sure. Why not?" Spike keeps walking and by then, Xander doesn't have any idea where they are. Not home, not ... anywhere. Just walking. "S'your room, now. Anytime you want."

They're walking in a part of town Xander's not been before, but he's not afraid, not with Spike. They continue in silence, and Xander thinks it's nice, just ... being there. He wants to ask Spike why he's doing this, why the room, and the watching him, and the everything, but he's afraid the answer might be something he won't like. So he just walks, glancing at Spike every now and then, and pretends Spike just likes him. After a while, Xander's stomach growls. He hasn't eaten since he ate a quick bag of chips in the library during his lunch period, and it's probably close to nine o'clock by now.

Spike doesn't acknowledge the sound, not even when Xander shifts and flushes a little. But suddenly they're by a sandwich shop, tiny little store with bright lights and pastel patterns on the windows, and Spike's disappearing inside, coat tails flapping like breadcrumbs.

So Xander follows, not knowing what else to do. When he gets inside, Spike's at the counter and he waves him over to sit at a little corner booth.

The menus are full of sandwiches with weird names. Xander puzzles out the relationship -- sports stars -- until a wizened old man comes over, note-pad in hand. Spike orders a burger and a coke, like it's normal for a vampire, and then glances questioningly at Xander.

Xander does a quick mental inventory of his pockets. "Small basket of fries, and a water, please," he says.

The wizened guy turns to Spike who says, "Plus a burger and a coke." Xander starts to protest but Spike just gives him a look. So Xander stays quiet, because the quiet is nice.

Xander fiddles with the napkin dispenser a little while they wait. "I'll pay you back as soon as I have it," he says, not looking up.

"Yeah." It's not dismissive, which Xander's pride appreciates, but it isn't exactly an overwhelming show of support either. Then Spike's shrugging and Xander has to look back up because Spike's grinning. "S'Angel's dosh, anyway. I don't care if you never pay that stingy bastard back."

Xander's surprised, but then he grins back at Spike. "You sound like you don't like him."

"Don't hate him." The fries arrive and Spike mutters disgustedly when Xander immediately drowns his in ketchup.

Xander shrugs and digs in, scarfing down the food as if he's starved. He's hungry, after all.

He's halfway through the small boat before a hand full of fries is dumped in. When he looks up, Spike shrugs. "Got the bigger one, didn't I? And they don't have any vinegar, here."

Xander gives him his best 'what the fuck?' look, then goes back to eating. Fries, burger, and Coke later, he's sitting back in the chair feeling sated and happy. He grins at Spike. "Thanks." He means it more than he can say. Dinner at home would have meant reheated pizza, or maybe a Hot Pocket.

"Like human food," Spike answers. Xander supposes he must, given that he put his hamburger away twice as fast as Xander did. "S'tasty."

Xander sits there for a while, not wanting to get up and leave, because he likes just sitting here with Spike. Spike gets a little antsy, though, bouncing his leg, tapping a spoon on the table, so Xander realizes he's probably bored out of his mind. "Uh, walk me home?"

The scarred eyebrow flits up. "Sure." Spike tosses a crumpled twenty onto the table, striding off before Xander can offer his own pitiful share.

He hurries after Spike, outside into the night again, and falls into step beside him. He's quiet, again. He has a million questions he'd like to ask, and a million stupid things he'd like to say, but he's too afraid of saying something stupid. He doesn't want to ruin this, whatever it is.

He's concentrating on the flash of sneaker leather -- starting to go dingy grey with age -- to the exclusion of everything else. Spike'll protect him, so he doesn't need to worry about anything but bumps in the side walks or curbs he has to step over. He's anxious when they arrive at his house. The upstairs light is burning. "Thanks," he says awkwardly.

He looks up at the house, then back at Spike. He wants to ... hug him or something. Instead, he scuffs his shoes in the dirt and stuffs his hands in his pockets.

Spike touches his shoulder, sliding his fingers up to cup Xander's jaw. "Night, little one," he says softly. Xander blinks, mouth open to say something -- but Spike's already vanished into a shadow and Xander's alone. So he goes inside.

* * * * *

It goes like that for nearly a month. Spike doesn't know where he's getting the patience, but he's glad for it. Here, little birdie, he twits in his head, watching as Xander scarfs down a club sandwich. Their meetings are almost regular. Sometimes they go four or five days without a meeting, but not often more than that. Spike manufactures an excuse to come out of the shadows, or, more recently, Xander does.

Xander's made the excuse this time, tossing a rock into Spike's chosen shadow with enough accuracy that Spike doesn't mock his arm. They're walking home now, sucking on milkshakes. Xander's chatting about his day, enough humor and wit in the stories that Spike doesn't mind.

A block away, they hear the shouting. Xander goes quiet. Very. He slows down, too, not exactly stopping but obviously not thrilled to be approaching where the shouts are coming from. It's the boy's house, of course. Mr. and Mrs. Harris goin' at it, words and fists both, on their front porch. She's red faced from screamin' and Spike can see a bruise forming on his cheek. It looks entertaining, actually. Spike'd stick around to watch if Xander wasn't starting to look chalky around the eyes.

"You know that room you said is mine?"

Spike can hear the strain but doesn't comment on it. "Yeah?"

"Mind if I stay there tonight?"

Bingo. He wants to grin triumphantly, or just grab the boy and haul him home, but all he does is nod and say, "Sure."

"You're sure Angel won't mind?" the boy asks, his voice high and a little worried.

Spike gives him a disgusted look. It seems to do the trick, shutting the boy up and keeping him docile as they head back towards the mansion.

Inside, Xander looks around. "You've got curtains on the windows, now," he observes. He looks nervous, which is normally a quality Spike likes in his humans, but with this boy, it doesn't sit well with him.

"Well, yeah," he says a little belligerently. "Cleaned it up a bit, too. Don't actually like living in filth, you know. Unliving." He shifts, awkward. He doesn't want to touch the boy yet, but doesn't know how to relax him without it. Not here, in his own home.

"I can, um, clean up a little, too. F-for staying here, I mean." Xander's so eager to please. It makes Spike hard, just thinking of that eager little boy in his bed.

"If you want. Don't have to, though." It seems obligatory to mention that, though Spike's not gonna turn away a volunteer. Cleaning's boring. He wants to get a minion to do it, but Angel's decreed no minions. "So, uh, wanna see your room?"

Xander lights up a little, makes Spike wish he'd fixed it up even better. "Yeah, can we?" he asks.

"It's not really much," Spike warns. It's next to the room Spike uses, when he's not sleeping in Angel's bed. Just a small room. The dusts been whisked away and the floors clean, at least. The bedding's new -- nicked, though Angel doesn't know that. Spike watches unhappily as Xander examines it. He'd been proud of that room, and now it looks ... dingy.

When the boy turns to Spike, though, his face is lit up and he's smiling this goofy smile and Spike can't help smiling back. Xander puts his arms around Spike, and it takes Spike a minute to figure out just what the hell he's doing. He's hugging him. Well, he was hugging him, now he's stepping back and looking embarrassed. "Thanks," he says bashfully.

His skin is tingling from the instant of heat. "Sure," Spike says dumbly.

"Do ... do you think I could bring some clothes over? Just like a change, you know, so I don't have to go home before school, or wear the same thing two days in a row? For ... for when I stay over."

Spike nods as casually as he can. "Sure. Can always borrow from us, too." He eyes Xander speculatively. "Angel's pants should fit. And my shirts." Tight enough that he can see the boy's chest, just starting to develop into the heavy muscles of a full-grown man.

Xander flushes again and grins. "Okay, thanks." He looks around, interested in everything in the room, and sits on the edge of the bed, looking at Spike like he's waiting for some clue what to do.

Spike doesn't know what to tell him. It's a fine idea, get the boy into the mansion so Spike can have his wicked way with him. But now that Xander's here, he's unsure of how far or fast he can move things. So he sits on the bed next to Xander and brushes a stray bit of hair out of his eyes. "No mirrors," he says uselessly. "Sorry. Gonna have to go without one for a bit."

Xander gives a shy smile. "That's okay," he says. Spike wonders if the way the boy leans closer is intentional or just instinct.

"We do have plumbing," he continues. His fingers wander over cheek and jaw to smooth out a rumpled collar. Xander's so warm. "Nice big shower an' all. You won't exactly be roughing it."

Xander's breath catches at the touch and his pulse quickens. "Thank you," he whispers.

Spike smiles. Keeps touching the boy, slow and gentle. "Tired, little one?" he asks. Hopes the answer is 'no'.

Xander bites his lip and shakes his head. He asks, "W-why do you call me that?"

Spike tilts his head. He's petting the boy's back outright, now, and Xander's leaning even closer. Here, kitty, kitty. "Don't you like it?"

The boy frowns as he thinks. "I ... I do like it. It makes me feel ... young. And ... something." His blush is so pretty as it slides down his neck and disappears under his collar. Spike wants to take that shirt off and see how far it goes.

"You are young," Spike points out. His hand migrates back up so he can brush the backs of his fingers against Xander's neck – the heat is intense. "Just a little boy."

Xander licks his lips a little, shiny and pink, and touches the outside of Spike's thigh tentatively. "D-do you like little boys?" he whispers.

Spike strokes Xander's neck and leans forward a little more. Their shoulders brush. "I do."

The boy's confusion and arousal and that small bit of nervous fear is just perfect as he leans down a little and makes himself smaller beside Spike. "Okay," he says in a breathy little child voice.

"'s better to just be a little boy sometimes, innit?" Spike asks softly, rubbing Xander's back again in soothing circles. "If you got somebody strong there to take care of you?"

Spike doesn't think the boy is going to answer, he's quiet for so long. But then his fingertips stroke Spike's thigh a bit more and he whispers very quietly, "Yes."

"Good," he says quietly. He shifts a touch when Xander's head lays on his shoulder, making it comfortable for both of them. They don't say anything more as Spike keeps petting and the boy's breathing slowly evens out.

"Sleepy, little one?" When Xander nods he chuckles quietly. "Should take a bit of a nap, then, shouldn't you? Come here." Xander's totally docile as Spike gets him to lay out flat on the bed. He makes tired, little boy noises when Spike undoes his shoes, tickling the socked feet gently. Tucking him under the covers, Spike brushes a kiss on his forehead. "Gonna go out for a bit, little one. But I'll be back soon. Alright?"

Xander nods and Spike walks out into the hall, leaving the door partially open.

"You were right. He came back," Angel says. He's been standing out in the hall watching for a few minutes. "He trusts you." His voice is even but Spike can see the hint of surprise or pride underneath it all.

Spike continues walking. He doesn't want to be that close to Xander while having this conversation. "Any reason he shouldn't? You've got me on the same leash as you, so I'm harmless as a bleeding kitten." Never mind he doesn't want to hurt the boy. He ... likes Xander.

"Does he know you don't have a soul?" Angel asks.

Spike rolls his eyes. "Don't talk about it like it's a bleedin' handicap. And he hasn't asked. I 'spect it'll come up. Won't matter."

"Maybe this is the wrong thing to be doing ..."

"Oh, just stuff it. Everybody's gonna get what we want, nobody's gonna get their throat ripped out in the process, what more d'you want?"

Angel turns, presses Spike against the wall with an arm across his chest. Pushes and grinds his erection against Spike's. "We're demons," Angel says with quiet intensity. "What right do we have to mess with a little human boy?"

Spike glares right back. "Cause makin' sure he eats and has a place to sleep without some lumbering oaf comin' in and screamin' at him, that's messing with him, is it?"

Angel lets go and takes a step back. "Has he been hurt?" Has the bastard hurt him, he means, Spike can hear the words as if they'd been spoken.

"Dunno. Not recently, anyway." He's kept a careful eye for that ever since he understood why Xander's reluctant to go home.

Angel nods shortly. "You're watching for that." It's not a question. Spike wonders just how much Angel actually cares about the boy, personally, or if it's just a poncy souled vampire thing.

"I'm watching." He's spent a lot of nights doing just that, waiting until that northern-facing light goes dim. "Gonna go hunt a bit," he says to change the topic. "Grab something for him to eat come morning."

"Hunt?" Angel says, and there's a threat in that word.

"No. Well, yes, I'm sure your little Slayer's left me a few demons to kill."

The look on Angel's face is priceless. "You're going out slaying?"

Instead of what -- staying around here to watch Angel brood? To watch Xander sleep ... "I like killing things, Angel," he says lowly. "Don't much care what it is. Sides, you're the one always after me to keep on your Slayer's good side."

Angel nods shortly, then tilts his chin toward Xander's room. "What am I supposed to do with him?"

"Don't wake him." The order comes out harsher than he expected. "Just ... let him sleep out. Show him where the loo is, if he wants."

Angel smiles a little. "Bit overprotective, boy?"

So many things he can say to that. Warn Angel to back off, that Xander's his. Throw his chest out and say 'yeah, what of it?' like his -- obvious -- affections aren't a big deal. He doesn't do either. Just stares at Angel calmly. Waiting.

Angel comes close, kisses Spike softly. "I remember what it's like, you know," he says, then trails a hand up Spike's arm. He rubs his thumb over the faint scar on Spike's neck. It makes him shiver and harden again, but he stays silent. Angel continues to speak softly , moving his lips down Spike's throat. "Fresh new boy, so sweet and yours. Don't want to share with anyone, I know."

"He's not mine. Not yet, anyway."

"He's yours, Will," Angel says, and he bites down lightly over that scar with his blunt teeth. Spike's knees feel like rubber. Angel licks the nipped skin and chuckles. "And no matter what happens, how much he thinks he's all grown up, he'll always be yours."

Spike wants to tell Angel he's as unsubtle as a bloody load of bricks. Doesn't. He's just barely staying upright, pressed against the wall while his body screams 'yes' to every word.

"Turn around, boy," Angel says. His hands are already tugging at Spike's zipper and pulling his jeans down to his knees.

Spike waits long enough to undo Angel's pants than braces himself against the wall. "Don't wake him," he pants.

"You always were the one who had trouble keeping quiet, Will," Angel says. His fingers are cool and wet at Spike's entrance, pushing in without any preamble.

He bites his own wrist to muffle his groaning. "Shut up and fuck me."

That gets him a short, hard slap on his ass. "Watch your lip, boy." His voice is amused, though, and he rubs over the stinging flesh soothingly. Spike feels the tip of Angel's cock right there and he leans back eagerly. Angel grips his hips and pushes inside.

"Yesss," he hisses. It hurts as Angel moves deeper but Spike revels in the pain. He's trying to listen for the boy's heart -- loud in the stillness of the home of two vampires -- but Angel's hand is gripping his cock, stroking it teasingly. "Bastard," he says. Angel just chuckles, finding a harsh, fast rhythm.

When Angel wants you to come fast, there's no way to hold it off. You just go with it and let him take over. "Always love my cock in your ass, don't you, boy?" Angel says, panting harshly and fucking him harder. "Want you to come with me. Want you to spill all over my hand when I'm spilling inside you."

Spike doesn't have time to agree, just hangs on to the wall until Angel freezes and begins to come. Groaning deep in his throat, Spike spills all over Angel's hand -- exactly as he was told to.

"Good boy," Angel says, and there's not a trace of sarcasm in the words, just warmth and caring. He touches his lips to Spike's shoulder, chaste and sweet through the cotton of the tee-shirt. Angel pulls out and Spike reaches to grab his pants from around his ankles, wincing slightly. He'd be sore for a few hours.

When Spike turns, Angel is licking the come from his fingers and smiling.

"An' you call me the slut?"

Angel narrows his eyes and holds a finger in front of Spike's face.

Spike ignores it for a few seconds then smirks and sucks it into his mouth. "Already knew I taste good." It's a blatant invitation, but its also what passes for affection between the two of them and Spike's grinning as he speaks. Angel doesn't really grin but some of the lines 'round his eyes are gone.

"I'll let you taste me some other time," he says, then kisses him hard and steps back. "Have fun hunting. Think you can walk straight, boy?"

Spike flips him off. "You're not that good, Angelus." But he's damn near limping as he clatters down the stairs and into the cool night air and it takes effort to hide it until he's away from Angel's gaze. "Ponce," he mutters to the night. Well, bit of coitus funnus aside, Spike wants to be back well before his new boy wakes up and he's got a couple of places to hit.





TBC





The End





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