Snowbound

Chapter Four

“I knew you would see reason, Wesley,” said Angel, reaching out to touch Wesley’s dark hair briefly.

Wesley smiled and then raised his eyebrows. “Spike? The bed lies in this direction.”

Spike continued to walk towards the saddlebags. “Yes,” he said, “and once between those soft sheets, I will not want to leave in search of – now, where is it?”

Wesley’s mouth curved knowingly as Spike bent at the waist to search a bag, his hand braced against the wall. He knew what Spike sought - the small vial of oil they used during lovemaking – and he knew that Spike was prolonging the search to give them both chance to admire his backside, thrust impudently high and enticing from any angle. Wesley took a moment to study it but found his gaze drifting to Angel who was watching Spike with an intensity of which he was doubtless unaware.

Wesley felt a small pang of loneliness. Their relationship had not begun as it was now; he was Angel’s younger by five years, Spike’s by two; that they had been at university together was a combination of chance and design. Spike and Angel had found each other first, with Wesley suspecting nothing of their love, valuing their comradeship and conscious of a wistful longing to be on as close terms as they were. That his youth and their scruples had made them keep a distance never occurred to him. Once he was of an age, a subtle alteration had led to much that made Wesley feel wanted, feel needed...yet still feel that he was, at times, superfluous.

As he did now. Angel’s face was locked into a lust so darkly possessive that ‘Devil’, the name the Polite World had bestowed upon him, seemed more fitting than their own affectionate, ‘Angel’. Wesley knew that the coldness within Angel melted for them, that he was capable of tenderness and humour – but the desire, so stark and encompassing that blazed from Angel’s face now held no hint of the gentler emotions. Wesley obeyed Angel in some things, Spike in far less...yet when Angel chose, Spike would beg and kneel, his eyes downcast, his body pliant - and when Spike crossed a line Angel had drawn, Angel showed him no mercy...and Spike asked for none.

Wesley stood apart from this aspect of their relationship, not wholly approving, yet filled sometimes with a longing that drove him of recent months to goad Angel and test for limits he was not certain had been set, half unsure of what he wanted the outcome of his actions to be. Angel had dealt with him patiently, as Spike looked on, amused eyes comprehending more than Wesley realised, but patience was not a virtue Angel had in abundance and Wesley sensed that one day soon he would find himself beside Spike, submitting whether he willed it or not.

Spike stood at last, bottle in hand, and as one, they walked to the bed that stood in the centre of the room. Angel extinguished the lamps and all but a few of the candles so that the room fell into a soft dusk; enough light for no expression to go unmarked, yet not so much that their eyes were dazzled. The fire had been built up so that it would last until morning and the room was warm, scented faintly by the applewood that burned in the deep hearth.

Too many nights had been spent together for there to be any awkwardness between them. Angel mounted the step that led to the high mattress and moved to the far side of the bed; Wesley followed and then Spike. For a moment they lay still, Wesley between the two older men, their arms around him and each other. Wesley lay back and watched Angel and Spike kiss across him, filled with a yearning that made him ache. The dark head and the light – Night and Sun and he, what was he?

“The Moon,” Spike said softly, turning his head and smiling down. “For you can be with us both and shine beside me in the daytime sky.”

“I think Spike has infected you with his Muse,” Angel whispered. “The Wesley I know cares only for charting the course of the heavenly bodies and little for their romance.”

Wesley began to struggle up, frowning and trying to speak, filled with confusion that his thoughts were known to them, but Angel and Spike exchanged meaningful looks, smiled, and pushed him back. “No need to talk, Wesley,” Angel said firmly. “In fact, I forbid it.”

Wesley’s lips parted indignantly, determined to share his suspicions, and Angel’s brow darkened in pretended anger. “Spike? Stop Wesley from disobeying me,” he ordered, kneeling up and glaring down at Wesley, who was certain that Angel was playing, but not so certain that he cared to risk speech.

Spike grinned and ran his tongue teasingly around Wesley’s ear lobe, biting down on it hard enough to make him moan, his need to share his suspicions forgotten as desire rekindled in his body. “Sounds like that are permitted, are they not?” he asked, idly running his fingers across Wesley’s chest and pinching a nipple to hardness.

“Oh, indeed,” Angel said, nodding slowly as he moved between Wesley’s legs, spreading them with a hand on each knee. “Indeed they are...”

Dizzy with need, Wesley reached up a hand to pull Spike’s fair head down so that he could kiss him. Spike let him, his lips soft and loving, but soon pulled back, directing Wesley’s attention to Angel, who knelt patiently at the foot of the bed. Pushing Wesley’s thighs apart still further, until Wesley felt himself exposed in truth, Angel removed his hands, after a final pressure that warned Wesley to hold the position in which he had been placed. Somehow, that wordless command thrilled Wesley, making him gasp aloud as his cock hardened in response. Angel ran his finger lightly along the inside of Wesley’s thigh, across the pale, sensitive skin, watching the muscles flex and tighten. Then he bent his head and dragged his tongue along the path his finger had taken, pausing a scant space away from Wesley’s centre, where his manhood shifted ‘gainst his stomach, restless and eager. Finally he blew softly along the dampened skin and Wesley’s breath grew harsh and quick.

Angel found himself intrigued, both by the depth of Wesley’s response to his attentions and by the lack of urgency that wrapped them all about. He felt a deep content at the thought of hours spent thus, with no wish to race towards a climax which had hitherto been his sole aim.

He also, like Spike, had glimpsed Wesley’s thoughts and was troubled by them. What magic had allowed them that fleeting insight, he knew not, yet he was certain that he had been vouchsafed the answer to something that had long puzzled him; the reason for Wesley’s slight air of reserve. It made no sense, given the love he and Spike lavished on him, for him to feel unwanted and yet he did and merely because, unsure of Wesley’s feelings, Angel had allowed him a freedom of action Spike had long since, in some areas at least, renounced. If Wesley needed to taste Angel’s darker passions, to feel truly as if he belonged, then so be it...

Angel, who once he had but set his mind on some course, had yet to be deflected from it, was determined that Wesley would not rise from this bed on the morrow without being certain of their love for him. He knew, without needing to ask, that Spike and he were as one on this, and the knowledge gave him strength.

As Spike lay beside Wesley, kissing him softly about the face and neck but never blocking Wesley’s view of Angel, Angel set to work on making Wesley cry out his name, repeating the fleeting touches of fingers, tongue and breath, pressing hot kisses on fevered skin, never approaching Wesley’s cock and scowling fiercely at his efforts to shift his hips to force a touch.

“Lie still, Wesley,” he murmured. “Endure all I see fit to do and say nothing.”

Wesley’s head moved restlessly on the pillow, his eyes wild as Angel’s caresses grew bolder, the sounds he was making becoming louder, closer to a direct plea. Spike hesitated then slipped down the bed to join Angel, passing his hand down Angel’s curved back, fingers crooked so that his nails scored the pale skin. Angel growled a warning, stilling his hands where they gripped Wesley’s hips as he bent over him. Spike smiled wickedly and moved behind Angel, letting his cock slide between Angel’s buttocks, as he in turn held Angel’s hips.

Angel tensed as Spike began to move back and forth, his length rubbing against Angel’s balls insistently as his hand worked Angel’s cock. Wesley watched them, eyes wide and lips parted slightly. Over Angel’s shoulder, Spike pursed his lips in a mocking, mischievous kiss towards Wesley and then he bit Angel’s neck – hard – and waited for the inevitable result.

Angel released Wesley, stretched behind himself, twisting around slightly, and took hold of Spike. In a move made smooth by much practice, he managed to get Spike bent back across his knee, face up and laughing even as he struggled. Angel’s large hands played across his stomach and toyed with his erect cock until Spike cried out and then said softly, “Impatient, Spike?”

“Neglected, rather,” Spike replied impertinently.

Angel looked at Wesley. “What should I do to him, Wesley? What should I do to someone who interrupts my plans to drive you to the point where you can no longer obey me and speak?”

Wesley looked at them doubtfully, sensing a trap. That he had been within a breath of disobeying Angel and speaking, spilling forth words pleading for release, he knew. Spike’s unexpected action had saved him from that and yet...something there was of this that seemed planned and still he felt that curious sense of exclusion, as though the other two communicated silently, in words he could not hear.

“You may speak,” Angel prompted. “Should I – ” he turned Spike over and laid his hand against Spike’s backside, “punish his impatience, school him to be as dutiful as you?”

Spike lay still, his struggles ended, and Wesley bit his lip as Angel raised his hand in threat.

“I –I do not know,” Wesley whispered, his eyes fixed upon Angel’s face, seeing no hint upon his handsome features. “Please –”

“No, Wesley,” Angel said, the sternness in his voice unfeigned, “this I want to hear from you. Spike knows he overstepped his part in this –” he let his hand rest briefly on Spike’s backside, his eyes glinting as Spike arched up at the contact, “and as you can see, he is not precisely...unwilling to pay the price, but you...will you look on and frown, or watch and smile? Will you take my place, or beg to take his? Choose, Wesley. Here and now.”

“Do not force him to speak,” Spike said mildly. “It may be that he does not know his mind on this.”

“Spike -!” Angel shook his head in irritation and then let his hand fall against Spike’s flesh, striking him full across his backside and leaving the faint mark of his hand against flesh. “Have done.”

Wesley swallowed, his eyes falling to Spike. “I ... am not inclined to frown.”

“One down.”

Wesley sat up and then crawled to them, kneeling opposite Angel. “Nor to... smile...exactly.”

Angel reached out and took Wesley’s hand, turning it within his grasp and bringing it down to touch the fading flush of red. “That makes you tremble. With fear? Or longing?”

Wesley freed his hand and stared at Angel. “Cannot it be both?”

“I do not know. I know myself and I know Spike –”

“Oh, please. Call me ‘Bone’,” Spike muttered.

Wesley and Angel exchanged amused glances and their hands rose in unison. Angel felt Spike’s body tense against his thighs and then, just as his hand flashed down, Wesley’s fingers closed around his wrist, saving Spike.

“He knew how close I was to breaking,” Wesley said quietly. “You know that.”

Angel nodded, his face calm. Wesley tangled his fingers in Spike’s hair, tugging at it gently. “Get up, Spike,” he said.

Spike wriggled free and lay sprawled on his side looking up at Wesley. “You’re sure about this, Wes? He’s happy with you as you are. We both are.”

Wesley smiled and bent to kiss Spike lovingly. “I’m not,” he said simply.

“Come here, Wesley,” said Angel. “Now.”