On the Other Side
folder
BtVS AU/AR › Slash - Male/Male › Angel(us)/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
30
Views:
9,106
Reviews:
40
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
BtVS AU/AR › Slash - Male/Male › Angel(us)/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
30
Views:
9,106
Reviews:
40
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter 27
Chapter 27
Angel led the way down the hallway, pushing the door open and gesturing for Spike to enter.
“You don’t lock it?”
Angel made a show of searching through the desk drawers before pulling out a heavily tarnished key, holding it up for Spike’s inspection and tossing it back into the drawer, where it burrowed under stacks of paper and mis-matched socks, out of sight once more.
“In this place? No. I trust these guys, mostly, and if anything did turn up missing, we have very…persuasive methods of locating the culprit.”
Spike’s eyes widened at the slightly crazed glaze that stole over Angel’s dark eyes, breathing a sigh of relief when Angel blinked, returning to his normal, warm gaze. He watched as the brunet shut the door, firmly pressing the lock.
“I only lock it when I’m here…when I don’t want to be disturbed.” A brief flicker of heat passed between the two of them, the hairs at the nape of Spike’s neck prickling at the implication.
Angel removed the DVD’s from the bag the video store had provided, wadding it up and tossing it towards the overflowing waste bin. It bounced off a Chinese take-out carton and landed a few feet away. Spike thought about picking it up, but it seemed perfectly content to lie between a wadded-up pair of boxer shorts and a half-eaten bag of chips.
Curious, he stooped to read the package – spicy barbeque, his favorite. He picked up the bag and began shoving the greasy crumbs into his mouth.
Spike turned toward his date, who had just finished popping the disc in and was sprawled out on the couch, remote in hand. Angel was so…guh! Spike grimaced as the rancid flavor of the chips finally broke through the fog of lust he’d been wearing all night. He must’ve vocalized his disgust, since Angel turned toward him quickly, jumping from his position to stand in front of Spike.
“Ugh! Think they might’ve gone off, mate.”
Angel took the bag from Spike, replacing it near the bin. “Yeah, those…um…aren’t really good any more.”
Spike stifled a chuckle at the understatement. “Yeah, s’pose that’s why they’re next to the waste bin, huh?”
Angel’s eyes widened, taking in the pile of trash on the floor. “I’m so sorry – I should have cleaned up! I just…I mean…”
Spike watched, highly amused when Angel began frantically gathering up the items on the floor, shoving them forcefully into the can. “Angel.” The brunet paid him no heed, so he reached out, fingertips grazing the muscles in Angel’s back. Angel froze, sucking in a breath at the touch, before turning his head back to Spike. “Angel, it’s ok. I don’t mind.” He leaned slightly, allowing his palm to rest flat against Angel, soaking up the warmth, as he glanced around the room. “Reminds me a little of my room, actually. ‘Scomfy.”
Angel stood, slowly, Spike’s hand never breaking contact with the older boy’s back. Spike wasn’t sure who started it – whether Angel leaned forward first or whether he pulled the other boy to him – but suddenly, Angel was close, very close. He felt his eyes flutter closed, nearly humming in contentment at the sensation of Angel's breath, soft and warm against his face.
Spike felt frozen - unable to move or think or do anything but feel - yet he was dizzy with the warmth of Angel's body next to his own. And then Angel spoke, breathing out Spike's name with such want that Spike couldn't help leaning forward and pressing their lips together. Angel deepened the kiss, his tongue plunging into Spike's mouth and his hands gripping Spike's hips possessively. Spike melted against the older boy, whimpering at the sensation of being ravished so thoroughly.
They broke apart, each panting for breath, foreheads and noses and lips rubbing against each other while their lower bodies remained firmly glued together. Unable to wait any longer, Spike tilted his head to meet Angel’s lips.
At the same moment, the DVD player, having cycled through its menu several times, began to play, music blaring from the seven very large speakers Spike had counted in Angel’s room.
Startled, the boys jumped, Spike clinging to Angel’s broad shoulders, Angel’s arms tightening around Spike’s waist reflexively.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Angel looked down at the boy in his arms. “Guess we oughta sit down; movie’s starting.”
Spike nodded, but didn’t release his hold on the brunet, even when Angel took a step toward the sofa. Grinning, Angel bent, swooping Spike up into his arms. Spike’s hold tightened and he leaned into the larger boy, inhaling deeply. He felt a little silly and more than a little girly, but, for some reason, he didn’t think he’d object too much if Angel wanted to carry him everywhere…as long as it wasn’t in public. He did have a reputation to uphold, after all.
Angel deposited his cargo on the sofa, snagging the remote from where he’d left it earlier, and sat next to Spike, who immediately leaned back into Angel’s chest, smiling when he felt a strong arm settle around his shoulders.
“I still can’t believe you haven’t seen ‘Fight Club’.”
Angel grimaced, shifting about in his seat until he found the offending pencil that had been poking him in the ass and throwing it at the waste bin pile. “I guess from the previews, it just looked…barbaric and a little pointless. I mean, a movie about guys beating the shit out of each other?”
Spike raised an eyebrow.
“Ok, I can’t say I don’t enjoy the violence, but where’s the plot?”
Spike’s eyebrow climbed a few notches.
“Don’t give me that look; I let you rent it, didn’t I? I’m even watching it, ok?”
Satisfied, Spike’s attention once again turned to the screen.
He was never sure why this movie held such appeal for him, although he suspected that part of him – the tiniest fragment of William he’d not managed to cry away – held out the hope that his father was like that, that he didn’t know what he was doing, that, just maybe, it was someone else, and his daddy was really trapped inside, confused and angry and still loving his son. He shuddered at the thought, pulling himself farther onto Angel’s chest, nearly sitting in the other boy’s lap. He flinched as the characters on-screen were beaten and bloodied, turning his head away.
He snatched the remote from Angel’s hand and pressed the stop button, sighing as he pushed away every thought that didn’t revolve around the hard body he was leaning on. “This is stupid. Let’s do something else.” He illustrated the ‘else’ by dragging his body up the bigger one, straddling Angel’s lap and leering suggestively.
Angel scowled. “But I was just getting into the movie!”
Spike’s chin dropped to his chest, lower lip jutting out slightly. He blinked up at the older boy once, twice, before Angel broke into a grin, and leaned forward to brush his lips against Spike’s.
“I suppose…if you insist…”
Spike wasn’t sure if he’d ever felt something as wonderful as Angel’s mouth on his, Angel’s hands gripping his hips, that is until Angel’s hands found the bruises. Spike sat back, gasping in pain.
Angel’s eyes widened and he grasped Spike harder in response to the outstanding urge to protect. When the blond hissed and tried to squirm away, Angel pulled back, holding his hands up non-threateningly before dropping them to his sides.
Spike bit his lip against the pain and frantically wracked his brain for an excuse. He stifled a flinch when one of Angel’s massive hands brushed against his cheek and settled on his shoulder, lightly kneading the muscle there.
Angel ducked his head to catch Spike’s gaze. “You ok?”
Spike couldn’t help smiling at Angel’s concern. “Yeah. I’ve…got a bruise.”
Angel glanced down at Spike’s hips, as if he could see the discoloration through the black denim. “Which side?”
“Uhm…both, actually.”
“Both?”
Spike could see the underlying suspicion in Angel’s face. “Yeah, I…uh…got into a row, at school. Bugger kicked me, and I slammed into a brick wall. Hurt like a bitch.” Spike could have kicked himself, he sounded like such a girl! “Of course, I let him have it after that – really, you should see him, black and blue, he is.”
Angel grinned wolfishly. “I’m sure he is.” He nipped at the blond’s lips teasingly before drawing away once more. “I’ll be careful.”
Spike didn’t answer, crushing his lips against the older boy’s instead. He let himself drown in Angel’s mouth – deep, claiming kisses; soft, tender kisses; giggly kisses; naughty kisses – working him into a fever, skin burning where Angel’s hands slid under his shirt. Unable to continue on air snatched between kisses, Spike pulled back, surveying his…boyfriend; Angel’s lips were swollen and red, eyes black and glazed, and his hair had been tugged and pulled out of the meticulous arrangement he’d worn before.
Diving back into Angel’s embrace, his attention was grabbed by a red light – the display of a digital alarm clock.
It was eleven twenty-five.
“Shit!” Heart in his throat, Spike leapt from Angel’s lap, grabbing his coat where it’d been discarded in the heat of the evening before turning towards the older boy, who hadn’t moved from the sofa.
“I’m sorry,” He placed a wet, but short, kiss on Angel’s lips. “I have to go. I-I’m going to be late. I can’t be late.” With that, he ran from the room, leaving behind a confused and very frustrated Angel.
Angel blinked, then adjusted his pants. That was…strange.
Angel led the way down the hallway, pushing the door open and gesturing for Spike to enter.
“You don’t lock it?”
Angel made a show of searching through the desk drawers before pulling out a heavily tarnished key, holding it up for Spike’s inspection and tossing it back into the drawer, where it burrowed under stacks of paper and mis-matched socks, out of sight once more.
“In this place? No. I trust these guys, mostly, and if anything did turn up missing, we have very…persuasive methods of locating the culprit.”
Spike’s eyes widened at the slightly crazed glaze that stole over Angel’s dark eyes, breathing a sigh of relief when Angel blinked, returning to his normal, warm gaze. He watched as the brunet shut the door, firmly pressing the lock.
“I only lock it when I’m here…when I don’t want to be disturbed.” A brief flicker of heat passed between the two of them, the hairs at the nape of Spike’s neck prickling at the implication.
Angel removed the DVD’s from the bag the video store had provided, wadding it up and tossing it towards the overflowing waste bin. It bounced off a Chinese take-out carton and landed a few feet away. Spike thought about picking it up, but it seemed perfectly content to lie between a wadded-up pair of boxer shorts and a half-eaten bag of chips.
Curious, he stooped to read the package – spicy barbeque, his favorite. He picked up the bag and began shoving the greasy crumbs into his mouth.
Spike turned toward his date, who had just finished popping the disc in and was sprawled out on the couch, remote in hand. Angel was so…guh! Spike grimaced as the rancid flavor of the chips finally broke through the fog of lust he’d been wearing all night. He must’ve vocalized his disgust, since Angel turned toward him quickly, jumping from his position to stand in front of Spike.
“Ugh! Think they might’ve gone off, mate.”
Angel took the bag from Spike, replacing it near the bin. “Yeah, those…um…aren’t really good any more.”
Spike stifled a chuckle at the understatement. “Yeah, s’pose that’s why they’re next to the waste bin, huh?”
Angel’s eyes widened, taking in the pile of trash on the floor. “I’m so sorry – I should have cleaned up! I just…I mean…”
Spike watched, highly amused when Angel began frantically gathering up the items on the floor, shoving them forcefully into the can. “Angel.” The brunet paid him no heed, so he reached out, fingertips grazing the muscles in Angel’s back. Angel froze, sucking in a breath at the touch, before turning his head back to Spike. “Angel, it’s ok. I don’t mind.” He leaned slightly, allowing his palm to rest flat against Angel, soaking up the warmth, as he glanced around the room. “Reminds me a little of my room, actually. ‘Scomfy.”
Angel stood, slowly, Spike’s hand never breaking contact with the older boy’s back. Spike wasn’t sure who started it – whether Angel leaned forward first or whether he pulled the other boy to him – but suddenly, Angel was close, very close. He felt his eyes flutter closed, nearly humming in contentment at the sensation of Angel's breath, soft and warm against his face.
Spike felt frozen - unable to move or think or do anything but feel - yet he was dizzy with the warmth of Angel's body next to his own. And then Angel spoke, breathing out Spike's name with such want that Spike couldn't help leaning forward and pressing their lips together. Angel deepened the kiss, his tongue plunging into Spike's mouth and his hands gripping Spike's hips possessively. Spike melted against the older boy, whimpering at the sensation of being ravished so thoroughly.
They broke apart, each panting for breath, foreheads and noses and lips rubbing against each other while their lower bodies remained firmly glued together. Unable to wait any longer, Spike tilted his head to meet Angel’s lips.
At the same moment, the DVD player, having cycled through its menu several times, began to play, music blaring from the seven very large speakers Spike had counted in Angel’s room.
Startled, the boys jumped, Spike clinging to Angel’s broad shoulders, Angel’s arms tightening around Spike’s waist reflexively.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Angel looked down at the boy in his arms. “Guess we oughta sit down; movie’s starting.”
Spike nodded, but didn’t release his hold on the brunet, even when Angel took a step toward the sofa. Grinning, Angel bent, swooping Spike up into his arms. Spike’s hold tightened and he leaned into the larger boy, inhaling deeply. He felt a little silly and more than a little girly, but, for some reason, he didn’t think he’d object too much if Angel wanted to carry him everywhere…as long as it wasn’t in public. He did have a reputation to uphold, after all.
Angel deposited his cargo on the sofa, snagging the remote from where he’d left it earlier, and sat next to Spike, who immediately leaned back into Angel’s chest, smiling when he felt a strong arm settle around his shoulders.
“I still can’t believe you haven’t seen ‘Fight Club’.”
Angel grimaced, shifting about in his seat until he found the offending pencil that had been poking him in the ass and throwing it at the waste bin pile. “I guess from the previews, it just looked…barbaric and a little pointless. I mean, a movie about guys beating the shit out of each other?”
Spike raised an eyebrow.
“Ok, I can’t say I don’t enjoy the violence, but where’s the plot?”
Spike’s eyebrow climbed a few notches.
“Don’t give me that look; I let you rent it, didn’t I? I’m even watching it, ok?”
Satisfied, Spike’s attention once again turned to the screen.
He was never sure why this movie held such appeal for him, although he suspected that part of him – the tiniest fragment of William he’d not managed to cry away – held out the hope that his father was like that, that he didn’t know what he was doing, that, just maybe, it was someone else, and his daddy was really trapped inside, confused and angry and still loving his son. He shuddered at the thought, pulling himself farther onto Angel’s chest, nearly sitting in the other boy’s lap. He flinched as the characters on-screen were beaten and bloodied, turning his head away.
He snatched the remote from Angel’s hand and pressed the stop button, sighing as he pushed away every thought that didn’t revolve around the hard body he was leaning on. “This is stupid. Let’s do something else.” He illustrated the ‘else’ by dragging his body up the bigger one, straddling Angel’s lap and leering suggestively.
Angel scowled. “But I was just getting into the movie!”
Spike’s chin dropped to his chest, lower lip jutting out slightly. He blinked up at the older boy once, twice, before Angel broke into a grin, and leaned forward to brush his lips against Spike’s.
“I suppose…if you insist…”
Spike wasn’t sure if he’d ever felt something as wonderful as Angel’s mouth on his, Angel’s hands gripping his hips, that is until Angel’s hands found the bruises. Spike sat back, gasping in pain.
Angel’s eyes widened and he grasped Spike harder in response to the outstanding urge to protect. When the blond hissed and tried to squirm away, Angel pulled back, holding his hands up non-threateningly before dropping them to his sides.
Spike bit his lip against the pain and frantically wracked his brain for an excuse. He stifled a flinch when one of Angel’s massive hands brushed against his cheek and settled on his shoulder, lightly kneading the muscle there.
Angel ducked his head to catch Spike’s gaze. “You ok?”
Spike couldn’t help smiling at Angel’s concern. “Yeah. I’ve…got a bruise.”
Angel glanced down at Spike’s hips, as if he could see the discoloration through the black denim. “Which side?”
“Uhm…both, actually.”
“Both?”
Spike could see the underlying suspicion in Angel’s face. “Yeah, I…uh…got into a row, at school. Bugger kicked me, and I slammed into a brick wall. Hurt like a bitch.” Spike could have kicked himself, he sounded like such a girl! “Of course, I let him have it after that – really, you should see him, black and blue, he is.”
Angel grinned wolfishly. “I’m sure he is.” He nipped at the blond’s lips teasingly before drawing away once more. “I’ll be careful.”
Spike didn’t answer, crushing his lips against the older boy’s instead. He let himself drown in Angel’s mouth – deep, claiming kisses; soft, tender kisses; giggly kisses; naughty kisses – working him into a fever, skin burning where Angel’s hands slid under his shirt. Unable to continue on air snatched between kisses, Spike pulled back, surveying his…boyfriend; Angel’s lips were swollen and red, eyes black and glazed, and his hair had been tugged and pulled out of the meticulous arrangement he’d worn before.
Diving back into Angel’s embrace, his attention was grabbed by a red light – the display of a digital alarm clock.
It was eleven twenty-five.
“Shit!” Heart in his throat, Spike leapt from Angel’s lap, grabbing his coat where it’d been discarded in the heat of the evening before turning towards the older boy, who hadn’t moved from the sofa.
“I’m sorry,” He placed a wet, but short, kiss on Angel’s lips. “I have to go. I-I’m going to be late. I can’t be late.” With that, he ran from the room, leaving behind a confused and very frustrated Angel.
Angel blinked, then adjusted his pants. That was…strange.