He feels like he should be searching for some self-indulgent subtext in it, like there's some higher or baser meaning that's just beyond his peripheral vision. But at the moment, Spike doesn't have any peripheral vision. All he can see is what's straight in front of him.
He hadn't really been prowling. Well, okay, maybe he'd been prowling a little. He'd kind of hoped to see one of the little secretaries being spanked over her desk or something, if only for a chuckle, but he certainly hadn't expected to see what he was seeing in Angel's office.
He'd gotten bored, wandering through the halls, through the walls, of the large law offices, and thought he'd go into Angel's office, maybe try that corporeal fingers thing again so he could write something nasty on the wall with a Magic Marker. Something about jacked hair and corporate whores, maybe. Hadn't expected to be struck speechless and motionless.
He'd stepped through the wall and there it was. The subtext he can't really grasp at, because Angel's bent low over his desk, grunting with effort as Wesley, Wesley the former watcher turned Marlboro Man on the patch thrusting into him from behind, thin cock glistening in the low light coming through the windows from the city below.
He couldn't convince himself it wasn't hot, though. They were both mostly clothed, though Angel's shirt is pushed up to his shoulders, and Wesley's shirt is open, and both have their trousers somewhere around their thighs.
Wesley's moaning something, and Angel's taking it, reveling in it, and suddenly Spike wonders if ghosts can jerk off, corporeal or not. Doesn't mean to make a sound, hoping to watch this till the bitter end, or the good end, whichever, but a sound escapes his tight throat anyway, because Angel's head whips to the side, eyes boring into him in shock, anger, shame.
"Spike," he growls, trying to stand up, but Wesley pushes his shoulders back down.
"Don't move, Angel," he instructs, and Spike nearly comes then and there as Angel obeys. Immediately.
"Spike," Wesley says, and even as Spike realizes that Wesley hasn't lost his rhythm once since he entered the room, his eyes flicker from the slick in-and-out he's been so focused on directly into steely grey eyes. There's lust there, and power, and Spike thinks it's the most intoxicating thing he's seen in a long time.
"Are you enjoying yourself?"
Spike doesn't answer for a moment.
"Never thought I'd live to see the day Angelus took it up the ass, to tell you the truth," Spike admits. "Then again, not really alive, either."
"No, I don't suppose you are."
They both turn to look at Angel as he whimpers. Wesley must have hit a particularly lovely spot that time.
"Angel?"
He doesn't answer Wesley's voice, only lets loose a long, low moan, which has Spike's cock pressing against his jeans, which is interesting, considering he hasn't been able to actually feel anything but a shower door, some pain, and a coffee mug in weeks.
"Angel, why don't you tell Spike just how much you're enjoying yourself?"
Angel doesn't speak, and Wesley thrusts a little rougher.
Another moan, and Spike has to strain to make out what Angel's saying between gasps for air.
"I can't explain it. Something...hot, hard...real..."
Spike lets out a moan of his own.
"It's like I'm alive. Hard, and deep, inside, it's warmth...can feel his pulse inside me, like it could be my own heart, hammering away. Feeling...full, after so long of being completely empty..."
Another moan from Spike's direction, and Wesley's begun rotating his hips, not just thrusting straight but gyrating at the same time.
"Fuck...Wes..."
"Keep talking, Angel." Spike has to catch his breath because he can hear the barely-there catch in Wesley's.
"When he comes, Spike. It's like...all that heat, it's in me, spreads inside me. Twitching, slick, wet, keeping me full long after he's gone. He never touches me, just inside, but he moves just right, I can't keep from coming when he...oh, God, Wes..."
"Fuck..." Spike whimpers, his hand straying to the front of his jeans, and informing him that yes, ghosts can in fact jerk off, and bloody well had better before they explode.
His hand is stroking his length through tight, not really there denim, watching as Wesley's thick, dark cock churns in and out of his estranged grandsire's tight, slick entrance. Wesley's hands move to grip Angel's shoulders, giving him more leverage as he begins to thrust harder, his eyes squeezing shut. Angel's eyes close and another loud, guttural moan bursts from his mouth, causing Spike's own hand to tighten around his cock almost painfully.
"Fuck...fuck me, Wes, God, fuck me," Angel almost sobs, and Wesley's fingers dig into strong, dark shoulders even more tightly as his hips begin to piston. A strangled sound from Wes and his legs are shuddering, his cock embedded in Angel as far and deep as it will go and Spike can almost feel it, that bursting, spurting heat, wet inside the elder vampire, and Angel's completely silent but Spike can see the ropes of his climax shooting across some paperwork on the desk, too entranced by the sight to realize his own phantomish jeans are damp at the front because the second Angel stopped moaning, he knew, knew what it meant, had heard that lack of sound before and knowing that Angel would come so hard because Wesley, Wesley is fucking him into next week was enough to make Spike's own cock explode almost violently.
The three of them pant, unmoving, for long minutes, until finally Wesley surreptitiously slips out of the body in front of him, making no fuss as he quietly zips up his pants and rebuttons his shirt. He pulls Angel up to his shaky feet, putting his clothing to rights as well before leaning forward and kissing him, more gently and caringly than Spike thinks he's ever seen someone kiss another someone.
He wonders why that suddenly makes him ready for round two, but doesn't feel comfortable sticking around long enough for that. He backs out of the wall, the same way he came in, and wonders how he can harass both men in the morning by all but telling everyone else in the office what they get up to after the cleaning crew leaves.
And wonders when he can catch them again.
