Snowbound

Chapter Ten

A log shifted in the hearth, sending up a glittering cloud of sparks and a puff of smoke. Giles did not move, staring into the depths of the fire with eyes as haunted as though he looked into hell itself. The door opened and still he stared, until a hand on his shoulder brought him out of his reverie.

“Wesley? You should be sleeping. I had thought you long since in bed.”

Wesley dragged up a footstool and sat close beside Giles. He was wearing a robe, thick and warm; the three of them, at Giles’ insistence, had plundered Lord Harris’ wardrobe to address the deficiencies of their own. The deep green heightened Wesley’s pallor but the flickering firelight cast warmth onto his thin cheeks and his eyes had lost the strained expression that had caught at Giles’ heart in the tower room.

“I went to bed,” he answered, a smile touching his lips as he remembered. The three of them had tumbled into bed and Wesley had been scolded, kissed and held by two men who seemed to feel their own recent escape from death mattered not at all in the face of Wesley’s ordeal. He had never seen Angel, imperturbable and reserved as he usually was, so distraught. “To see you look at us like that, Wesley,” he had murmured, hands moving restlessly over Wesley’s shoulders and back as he held him close. “No love, no interest, no regard for our pain...it was beyond anything. I could excuse it when I knew that you were under the spell of that monster but to find that you were not and could yet keep that expression –”

He choked and Weslaghaaghast, had tried to reassure him, but it was Spike who intervened, kissing Wesley and gently easing Angel into his embrace, murmuring nonsense until the shudders that racked Angel’s frame subsided and he fell, quite suddenly, asleep, the worried frown smoothed away.

Spike settled him against the high pillows at the edge of the bed and came around to lie beside Wesley, keeping his voice low, but not whispering as he knew that mor more like to rouse Angel than a steady flow of words. As soldiers all three could sleep with any amount of noise, but a whisper was what roused one from sleep into danger.

“Don’t fret, Wesley,” he said. “Angel’s not lacking in wit. When he has time to think this over, he will know that you did what you had to and did it from love.”

“Does he think it was easy for me?” Wesley demanded, his voice passionate. “Can you not conceive of the horror of seeing you both, trapped, and Giles so changed, so – ”

Spike sighed. “It must have been devilish hard,” he said.

Contrition swept over Wesley. “For you, too,” he said, “but you are getting no comfort, are you? Poor Spike! We are taking and giving nothing back.”

“I won’t deny I’m feeling a little unsettled,” Spike admitted. Angel stirred and Spike’s eyes went to him, his body relaxing when Angel began to snore softly. “But it’s all over now. Tell me when you’re done shaking and I’ll wait my turn for a fit of the vapours.”

Wesley grinned. “Now that I would like to see! Sometimes I think you the strongest of all of us.”

Spike yawned. “Not really. Someone has to – oh, it matters not. Come here, Wesley. Kiss me, let me hold you – and then go and do what you must.”

About to slip eagerly into Spike’s embrace, Wesley froze. “I don’t understand,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “Go where?”

Spike’s eyes were closed now and stayed that way, as though he preferred to keep his thoughts to himself. “To Giles. He needs you.” His eyelids flickered and he smiled. “If tonight has not shown you that we are one, Wesley, then nothing I say will, but know this. Whatever you do will make no difference to us, to the three of us. Nothing ever could.”

It was difficult for Wesley to breathe, to form words. “Spike –”

“Giles loves you,” Spike said, weariness stripping him of the ability to speak other than simply. “He gave up hope of ever having you return that love when he saw you with us but it does not mean – Lord, I’m so tired! – it doesn’t mean he stopped feeling it. He’s close to despair ght,ght, far worse than we because he has no one. Go to be be with him. You’ve been comforted; you know what he needs.” Spike’s eyes opened suddenly and he stared at Wesley. “Stay with him, Wesley. He should not be alone tonight.”

“You know what will happen,” Wesley said, half accusingly.

Spike’s eyes closed again and he turned his back, snuggling up against Angel. “Have fun,” he murmured.

“Fun!” Wesley controlled his voice as Angel muttered in his sleep. “Spike, does my going to another man’s bed mean so little to you that –”

“Wesley, if I thought it would help, Giles would be in this bed right now and Angel and I would be doing our best to stay awake to make him welcome. But it wouldn’t and so you’ll have to do this alone.”

“I’m not sure I can,” Wesley said slowly.

Spike growled impatiently and rolled back to face him. “You do not love him?”

“You know I do.”

“You do not desire him?”

Wesley cast up his eyes. “Of course I bloody do!”

“Of course you do. He’s a fine man. I think Angel might be planning to have words with him about endangering you though –”

“And you!” Wesley said, indignant on Spike’s behalf.

Spike smiled a little sadly. “Angel thinks I can take care of myself,” he said. “You, on the other hand he sees as standing in need of protection for all your fighting against the French, so, yes, I think Giles might get hauled over the coals a trifle, but I suspect he’ll welcome it as penance for his sins. If ever a man was guilt-filled...Wesley, I fear for him.” Spike reached out and took Wesley’s hand, curling their fingers together and squeezing it gently. “In the bed at the inn – the real one – Angel and I used the magic of the bed to heal you, Wesley.”

Wesley nodded. “I found out when Kaltor mentioned it – I thank you.”

“No need. Giles is as damaged as you. All he has worked for, all his plans have been ruined and, oh of course! Wesley, he still thinks blood lies on his hands. You must go to him at once.”

Wesley’s face filled with horror. “I had forgot! Spike, yes, I’ll go to him, tell him – but I cannot think it a good idea for me to – to stay with him. Will it not make it worse? For both of us?”

Spike stared at him. “Maybe. Play the hand as you see fit, Wesley. We trust you.” He voice hardened. “But if I discover that you refused Giles through some misguided notion that it is a betrayal of our love, I swear it won’t be Angel’s knee you find yourself across.”

Wesley took a deep breath and then grinned. Bending forward he kissed Spike hard. “I’ll see you at breakfast,” he said.

Spike reached up and laid a hand fleetingly against Wesley’s face and smiled. “Doubt it. I plan to lie abed until noon. I love you, Wesley.”

“And I you.”

The door closed behind Wesley and Angel said without turning, “Did you have to make me seem like an ogre? I am not so angered with Giles that –”

“Liar,” Spike said affectionately, slipping his arm around Angel’s waist and curling up against his back. “When you saw Wesley’s injured hand you ground your teeth with fury.”

“I did no such thing!” Spike smiled and said nothing. “I may have been a trifle annoyed,” Angel admitted.

“Furious,” Spike said. “You always are, if Wesley is hurt.”

Angel turned within Spike’s embrace and let his hand rest against Spike’s face. “I heard you tell Wesley that I did not care if you were hurt.” Angel shook his has Sas Spike began to protest. “No. I know that was the meaning behind your words. You are wrong. Wesley – we baby him a little, though we should not, but you are as dear to me as him.”

“I know that,” Spike said. “Angel, I know it.”

“Do you also know what I did to the man who gave you this?” Angel’s finger traced the scar that crossed Spike’s brow.

Spike’s lips tightened. “They were still toasting your exploits when I returned to duty. They said the Devil Duke had sent him to hell, that French cavalryman. You cut him to pieces.”

“I saw you lying still, bleeding like a stuck pig,” Angel said. “You – I thought you dead. I have never felt such anger or such loss. Never think you are not dear to me. Never.” He moved on top of Spike, pinning his wrists to the bed, letting his weight rest against him. Slowly he bent his head to kiss him, whispering the words against Spike’s mouth. “I love you. I should tell you more often.”

Spike pulled at the hands that held his wrists fettered and smiled as Angel’s grip tightened. “You’ve told me. Now show me.”

Angel looked down at him thoughtfully. He could feel Spike hard against him, but he could also see the weariness etching lines around his eyes. They needed to rest, to find some moment of respite from the horrors and confusion of the last few hours. He’d seen men after battle, go from elated to exhausted in a moment, as all that they had done and risked came home to the a s a sledgehammer blow. Spike looked as if that blow had fallen. His body might be responding but he was closer to dreams than reality.

Releasing Spike and ignoring his soft-voiced protest, Angel went to fetch the bottle of oil they used in their lovemaking and a soft towel from the washstand. “Turn over,” he whispered, climbing back into bed. Spike obeyed, his movements languid now as though he were drugged, his eyes closing.

Angel poured some oil into his cupped palm and waited long moments for it to warm against his skin until he only knew it was there because of the weight of it. Then he let his hand hover over Spike’s back and turned it. The oil dripped and splashed onto skin winter-pale now, streaking it with glistening lines and puddles. Spike sighed, his body relaxing utterly as Angel sat astride his hips and began to work the oil into his back with strong fingers.

Feeling Spike under him like this was enough to make Angel hard, without the teasing, fleeting touches of his cock against the swell of Spike’s backside as he leaned forward to reach Spike’s neck and shoulders, but he ignored his own arousal, with so muchcesscess that when he judged Spike to be ready for taking, and wrapped his slick hand around his erection, he had to bite down hard on his lip to keep from coming.

Shaking his head ruefully, he let more oil pour, cool this time, from the bottle onto Spike’s backside, moving to kneel between Spike’s thighs and nudging them apart. Spike had flinched slightly at the first splash of liquid onto skin warmed by Angel’s bodut hut he did not speak or turn his head. Angel felt intrigued. Spike was always so eager, so active in bed, inventive and playful in turn. Their occasional struggles, the small, often deliberate, disobediences that led to Spike’s arse being reddened...in all of that sport, Spike’s vitality spurred Angel on. Now Spike lay quietly, and Angel had to pay close attention to catch the signals Spike was used to call out and was now murmuring so low.

The mouth that begged Angel to fuck him harder was shaping sounds barely audible and if they were words they were in no language Angel knew. Breathy moans and small, plaintive whimpers...Angel took a pillow and lifted Spike’s hips, placing it beneath him, not wanting to make Spike kneel up, not yet. His hand brushed against Spike’s cock as he did so and Spike cried out his name as though it was all he had in his mind, the first word he’d spoken since Angel positioned him.

Angel ran three fingers through the oil coating Spike’s backside and dragged them down, parting his cheeks and letting his hand continue to fall until his fingertips brushed the back of Spike’s balls. Spike would usually have arched his back shamelessly at a touch like that, wordlessly demanding what Angel was only too willing to give...but now his hips shifted a bare inch and the movement that spread his legs wider was but a subtle flexing of muscles. It mattered not. Angel saw even that small movement and smiled, repeating his caress over and over, until the skin he touched was slippery and warm. With a patient restraint he had not know he possessed, with his own desires once more almost forgotten, he coaxed Spike’s response from him, muted no more as Spike’s body began tomourmour for release. Finally Angel’s fingers paused on their downward stroke and one slipped inside Spike’s body, a short, shallow push that would have lasted a bare second had Spike, hungry and alert for just such a touch, not lifted his hips with a tilt that sent Angel’s slicked finger further in. Angel chuckled and slapped him.

“You want more than you are given? You were ever a most demanding lover.”

Spike rose onto his hands and knees, seemingly invigorated and refreshed. “With you, I do, yes. Is that so wrong of me?”

“Most wicked,” Angel murmured. “But I cannot find it in me to chastise you for that fault when i have made you wait so long.”

Leaning forward, Angel turned Spike’s head so that he could kiss the smiling, pouting lips. “But I’m done waiting now, Spike.”

Without waiting for a response and with the blood pounding so hard in his ears that he would not have heard one, Angel took his cock in his hand and rubbed the head against Spike’s opening. Despite his words, that felt so good that he did it again and again until Spike gasped out a plea that sounded so tormented Angel could not find it in him to deny him any longer.

Nudging inside just enough to be securely lodged, he gripped Spike’s hips then pushed into him, that tight heat almost enough to trigger his climax. He paused, fighting for control and then Spike said tightly, “We have all night, Angel. Come in me now without fighting it and I’ll swear I’ll have you hard again inside five minutes.”

Angel took one long breath and thrust deeply, every stroke a victory against the waves of heat that swept through his body, seeking to dras res release from him. Pleasure mounted within him as he let a hand reach down to hold Spike’s hardness, loving the way it moved in his grasp as they both found a rhythm. The end came swiftly, but left them both wordless for long minutes as they lay curled against each other, long legs entwined, heartbeats steadying as their breathing slowed.

“Why did you send Wesley to Giles?” Angel asked idly, when whispered endearments had given way to rational conversation, running his hand along Spike’s arm. The muscles bunched beneath his fingers and Angel frowned in sudden suspicion.

“I feared he would give way to guilt and despair,” Spike replied, contriving to make dispatching his lover to the bed of another man an act of Christian charity.

Angel smiled and shook his head, his hand darting downward to cup Spike’s balls warningly. “Try again. No doubt Giles is better with company and a sympathetic ear but he’s not the sort to do away with himself. He would have managed to see out the night.”

Spike gave him a swift glance. “Better Wesley find out the grass is neeneeener, than wonder all his life what Giles has to offer.”

“True enough,” Angel allowed, “and yet were Wesley to be curious about young Ainsley, who spent three years at Oxford making calf eyes at him, I cannot but feel you would be less amenable.” He squeezed a little harder and Spike winced.

“Ainsley was a pox –rotted simpleton who – oh, have done, Angel! I sent him because –”

“It will stay with him forever. The memory of Wesley’s body against his, Wesley’s voice crying out his name...you’re a cruel bastard sometimes, aren’t you? I thought you liked Giles.”

“If I did not, he would not be in any condition to enjoy Wesley’s charms.” Spike’s cold smile was one a score of French soldiers had taken with them to hell as it filled their dying vision. “But I dislike seeing Wesley hurt as much as you.”

Angel let his grip loosen and slid his hand higher. “I guessed it was that.”

“And you disapprove? Ah, no, I see you do not...”