The Sweetest Taboo

Chapter 3

The dinner had gone well, with only a few episodes of Drusilla trying to cause trouble, and even one occasion where Spike was sure she had run her foot up his leg to his groin. He'd ignored it, for the most part, only thrusting into it once. That had made Drusilla giggle and wink at him. He liked her. She was funny and different, no matter how much a nutter she was. There were things he didn't understand about her, but Spike was sure that went for Angel as well.

The evening ended much in the same way it would have had Drusilla not been there. They sat down in front of the telly, Scotch in hand, and watched the Rugby game. England Vs. Whales. There'd been some cursing, and even hissing from Drusilla, but England had won.

Now Spike lay up in his bed waiting for the second part of the evening, the part where Angel would sneak into his room, sit in the chair by the window, and watch him. There had been a time where that had crept Spike out; until he had seen what it was, exactly, Angel had been doing in that chair while watching him. For a while, it had seemed a game. They would be brotherly and friendly during the day, but at night, they would touch themselves, watching as the other mimicked. Spike liked to take the lead, showing Angel just what it was he wanted him to do. Usually it was slow, languorous pulls on his cock as Angel repeated the action on himself, almost growling when Spike let it go on for too long.

Spike tried to fight the sleep that was forcing his eyes closed and his mind to wander. He wanted to stay awake, to wait for Angel, but dreams pounded at the door to his mind, and they won the battle.

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"But, don't you want to make your Princess happy?” Drusilla asked, pouting and sitting down heavily onto her brother's bed. He wasn't cooperating with her and it was starting to make her mad. But, she didn't want to be mad at her Angel. Bad things happened when she was mad. Like her Daddy. He'd made her mad, furious even, and now he was no longer there to punish her for it. His eyes had been large, like cow eyes, set like jewels upon her Daddy's face.

"Of course, I want to make you happy Dru, but what about William?” Angel asked. He didn't like where his sister was going with her train of thought, hard though it was to follow at times. She seemed clear and concise tonight, however, with words and actions.

"Your little poppet would like it very much. He'd squirm like a good boy and be very happy with you," Drusilla said. Her fingers walked along the bed until they came to his leg. She walked her fingers up along his leg, smiling at him.

"Thinks if he's a good boy he'll be rewarded," she says, letting her hand rub up and down Angel's leg. Drusilla could feel as his pants tightened, wondered what little secrets her half-brother kept from her between his legs. He never let her play, but she could always hope.

“Stop it Dru,” Angel said, pushing her hand away. He stood up and walked to the window, looking out on the night. She didn’t understand. How could she? Hell, even Angel didn’t understand it all and he was in the middle of it.

“Just wants to be loved is all,” Drusilla said, standing to move up behind him. She wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on his back. “He doesn’t remember what love is and my Angel’s too scared of it. You think it fire to burn, but it only melts away the snow, leaving the grass to grow green in the sun. But, even grass won’t grow if the sun’s not there to caress it. Touches don’t hurt, but I think your boy wouldn’t mind if they did.”

Sighing, Angel leaned back into her, letting her words sink in. He actually understood her this time and knew what she meant by them. But could he do it? Could he touch William? Would William allow him to? He hadn’t wanted that, not in the beginning. He’d only wanted…hell, he didn’t know.

That first day he’d seen William on the street…he hadn’t been looking for anything, least of all William. But the way he looked into his eyes, he saw pain and hurt and anguish on the boys face, a face that was too young to have such things written across it. Even now, Angel hadn’t known why he’d turned around and doubled back to see the boy. But, when he had, he was glad for it. He saw Ethan there, standing over the boy, his hand tight on William’s arm.

His actions had been almost reflex as Angel hopped out of the car and pushed Ethan away from William. The boy turned cold eyes to him, but they softened around the edges, as William had looked Angel up and down. The look had lasted but mere seconds, but Angel remembered it, and in remembering, it seemed to last ages. Turning away from William, Angel had pulled Ethan off to the side.

Everything had been said in hushed voices and furious whispers. Angel knew Ethan, Ethan, it had seemed, owned the boy…he’d wanted a fair trade. Money for William. Ethan would have none of it. Apparently, William had been his top boy, and still was to Angel’s knowledge, though he didn’t like thinking about such things. Either way, Angel realized no matter how much money he put on the table Ethan would not just hand over William. Therefore, Angel had done the only thing left to him and paid for the weekend.

At the very least, this way Angel would be able to talk to the boy, see what he was like, and get to know him. There was something about William that had drawn Angel to him. The way William had sneered at Ethan as they drove off, the cockney accent that flowed, vulgar though it could be, from his lips. And those lips…they had been meant for slow tender kisses that lasted for hours. Unfortunately, Angel was well aware of William’s age, though not his birthday. There were some lines that he’d been breed not to cross, and while homoeroticism had been one of them, he didn’t think it would bode well to cross that one along with crossing the age barrier. However, technically William was of age and probably knew more about what he was getting himself into then Angel was, Angel still didn’t want to be the one to make the first move. It had to be William. If William made the first move then Angel could be assured that the boy wanted him. He could let go of any guilt, of things shouted in his ear by his stepfather.

“Shh, my sweet Angel,” Drusilla said, running her hand over his shoulder and bringing him out of his musings. “He’s not here to teach you such lessons anymore.”

Drusilla hummed against his back, swaying them both in time to a tune only she could hear. Angel closed his eyes, letting the sounds wash over him. He just couldn’t take advantage of William like that. It had been beaten into him, literally, to be good, to stop being a queer. His stepfather had taught him well, and he still bore the scars of such lessons.

Her Angel was in such deep thought, his brow furrowed, she knew she would not get him to play tonight, but that wouldn’t stop her. The poppet was truly a treasure, whether her dear half-brother could see it or not. She would play with him at least; leave him with something wonderful, a prezzie maybe.

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Dreams could be tricky things, giving you flashes and feelings of things wanted but which you may never see. William wasn’t even sure if he was dreaming, the sensations were so real. It had to be the best feeling in the world; the warm wetness trapping his cock inside, a tongue darting out to lick at him like a cat would lap at milk, quick, feather-light touches. It was enough to drive him mad, but a good mad.

Spike knew if he just opened his eyes, he see Angel there, between his legs, sucking on him. Just the thought of that, the knowing that he could see that, finally, almost made him come. He groaned, bucking up into the mouth.

“Angel,” Spike said, trying to keep from deep throating the man. “Please.” Begging really wasn’t his gig, but…it just felt so good. Every time he came close to shooting off, Angel would back up, not let him release.

“Shh, Poppet,” Drusilla said, licking along the tender underside of Spike’s cock. She giggled as Spike’s eyes popped open before she took him in her mouth again, watching as his eyes fluttered closed, a moan pouring from his lips.