Spiked

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Song Lyrics: “Soul Cages” by Sting
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Chapter 4 - Columbia


Wesley found himself spread eagle on the bed being examined by the three vampires like gorillas grooming one another. Except for the laughter. They had really amused themselves by surprising him like that, and if his body hadn't been tingling so much and his head hadn't been swimming from the mixture of intoxicating scents, he might have pouted about it. "Funny, Angel, ha ha," he would have said dryly. If he could have spoken. Which he couldn't at this point. It was all he could do to breathe.


The other three were so finely tuned to one another that they hardly spoke at all. Visions of primordeal, non-verbal man danced in Wes's head as he watched them communicate with a subtle hand gesture or lifted eyebrow. The room was almost silent except for the sound of his own breathing and the whisper of skin brushing skin.

Angel nodded and his spread eagle position became more permanent as each of the three took a limb and tied him to the bed. Older Spike took care of the leftover limb and the three of them stood back and silently admired their handiwork. Naked Wes, Tied to the Bed. It sounded like a Chagall painting, rather looked like it, too. "Cute, guys," he would have said, if he'd been able to speak, which he still couldn't. "Breathe, Wes, keep breathing," he thought.

Ordinarily this kind of vulnerability would have made him berserk. Baby & Cordy had tried a few bondage games with him which had been quite pleasant, and on rare occasions he had allowed Dru to bind him, though she usually preferred to be the one strapped to the bed as helpless as a kitten. But he had never allowed Angel or Spike or any of the males in the family to do this to him. Childhood terror kept him from it, serious male trust issues. But this, for some reason, wasn't threatening to him at all, though there was no tangible reason for it. Something about the three of them together, reeking of dried sex and new arousal led him to trust what was happening, trust them, and go with it. If he stepped outside of himself it made no sense at all. He knew his reaction to this should have been violent, but it wasn't. He also knew that Spike & Angel were very aware of his hesitancy in these kinds of games. They normally would never initiate something like this with him. Still, he wasn't frightened or angry or violent, and Angel & Spike didn't seem concerned, though on doubt their vampire senses were keenly focused on him and his human responses.

He started to get chilled. Damnable vampires, they rareot cot cold, or rather they were already cold, being dead and all. They were always forgetting that there were a few human traits Wes still possessed, though granted not many, but temperature was one of them. As if he read his mind, Angel glanced at the shrinking, shriveling parts of Wes and tossed his head toward it, smirking at the older Spike. With a nod, he grabbed a throw off the chair and tossed it on him, though only a very small portion of him. Can't have THAT getting cold.

The boys began to mill about, though no one touched him and they still didn't speak. Spike the younger, obviously not used to quiet, swatted at the CD player ... the seductive tones of Sting filled the room.

The boy child is locked in the fisherman's yard
There's a bloodless moon where the oceans die
A shoal of nightstars hang fire in the nets
And the chaos of cages where the crayfish lie

Angel lifted a querying eyebrow at Wes, as if he were asking if being tied up was becoming a concern. Wes gave him a subtle wink that he was okay. Of course he wanted to say, "What do you think, you big, brooding, lummox? Being tied up is my worst nightmare, how do you think I am?" but somehow the words never took form and to be honest, he really wasn't uncomfortable. Strange.

Watching them, the realization hit him. The three of them, they reeked of one another to the point they no longer had indual ual scent, it was as if they had become one entity instead of three separate beings. Angel was the obvious leader, the alpha male, yet they were strangely equal in their behavior for the most part. But there it was. The unity, an almost pack mentality. And he was being invited into this exclusive brotherhood, even though he was human, even though he didn't feed as they did, even though he was different from their breed. That was where his security was coming from ... the bonding, the security that in the hands of these men he would be safe and protected. He was being claimed by them on a more intimate level than with the family in general, and rather than be concerned about his long-suffered hang ups regarding powerlessness and confinement at the hand of predatory males, he gave himself over to them with a trust which can only be given, not taken forceably. He liked it.

Where is the fisherman, where is the goat?
Where is the keeper in his carrion coat?
Eclipse on the moon when the dark bird flies
Where is the child with his father's eyes?

Then the stalking began. Okay, a little creepy. Younger Spike pulled the bed from against the wall so they could move completely around him ... no one told him to do it, he just did it, as if it were expected and accepted that he would do it. They were a pride of tigers, liquidly moving about him, sniffing at him, reaching out to brush against him occasionally (finally!), circling him. Each rotation brought them closer to him en masse until they each crawled up onto the bed and continued on all fours, almost slithering around him and taking more time as they crossed each limb, to touch and fondle each extremity.


He's the king of the ninth world
The twisted son of the fog bells toll
In each and every lobster cage
A tortured human soul

As if the music stopped in some mad game of musical chairs, they froze, each claiming an area of his body. He had a Spike at each wrist and Angel was perched between his legs. "Oh dear Lord, this is either going to be incredibly good, or they're going to eat me," he thought. At this particular moment he wasn't sure which he wanted. There could be worse things than being claimed and sired by these three vampires in a sexual ritual which would no doubt make it's own chapter in a watcher's diary. Then again, he was beginning to feel a bit like they were playing with their food.

He shook off the empty threat just in time to catch a glimpse of Spike hands releasing the bonds on his wrists, running up his arms and across his chest, and two pair of Spike lips beginning to nuzzle his neck and growl quietly. Any trace of cold fled as a heat wave took over, spreading through his body like a grass fire. Angel simultaneously released his ankles, placed a hand on each of Wes's legs and began to work them up toward the center, slowly creeping until he met the other two at the little throw beginning to tent at his groin. Wes himself tossed it aside, and there they lay, four naked men with a world of options before them.


These are the souls of the broken factories
The subject slaves of the broken crown
The dead accounting of old guilty promises
These are the souls of the broken town

Wes wrapped his legs around Angel's hips and pulled him in closer, their lips meeting in sudden urgency and hunger. This was not the norm for the two of them. True, Wes had been with Angel before and with Spike, but sexually, other than Dru, he was usually drawn more to Cordelia and Baby. Perhaps it was their commonality as consorts, or perhaps he was still human, technically, and not as deeply involved in the bisexuality of the full on vampire life ... yet. Or perhaps it was the violent, angry history he shared with Angel over the events which transpired when Connor was an infant, though this was long past forgiven by them both. He wasn't necessarily uncomfortable with Spike and Angel, he was just more comfortable with the women. Part of that, too, was his longstanding mistrust of men in general after a childhood filled with abuse and neglect. In fact, Angel was probably the least likely male for Wes to suddenly bond with. He'd had his dalliances with Spike's childer, casual group things within the family, but if asked to choose between Angel and Spike in an intimate moment, he would have almost always gone with Spike. They were just closer. Angel somehow always had that more authoritative position which had the potential of sending Wes retreating into himself. Yet, here he was, sharing intimate touches and deep, lingering kisses with Angel. And loving the Hell out of it. This powerful man was incredible to touch and feel and experience, and Wes decided in that moment not to deny either of them any bits of pleasure they could take or give to the other.

These are the soul cages.

The Spikes wrapped themselves around the other two, entangled in their own kiss hovering above them, hands groping each other and the two men below them. They began tenderly, but it didn't take long for their activities and affections toward each other to take on a more feverish pitch. They broke off into pairs, the two Spikes eagerly pleasing each other in that tandem manner they had already developed ... no words necessary, they knew what they liked and joyously dove into it, lips and tongues, limbs and cocks, rubbing and kissing and touching and teasing. They were all over the bed, and sometimes off of it, whereas Wes & Angel remained eerily in the middle, their movements more subtle and low key, but just as intense, perhaps moreso because of the simmering violence hidden beneath both of them.

I have a wager' the brave child spoke
The fisherman laughed, though disturbed at the joke.
'You will drink what I drink but you must equal me
And if the drink leaves me standing,
A soul shall go free

The older Spike grabbed his mirror image by the shoulders and slammed him up against the wall, ravaging him with his mouth and slipping into game face, scrapping his fangs down the pale, cool skin of his chest. His counterpart shivered and an animalistic growl seemed to reverberate right out of his chest. His hands began a searching, wandering game over his partner that had them both hard and eager to explode within moments. Their hands slipped between them, grasping the other's prick in painful, ecstatic unison. If they didn't slow down a bit this wasn't going to last long. Then again, they could go for another round.


I have here a cask of most magical wine
A vintage that blessed every ship in the line
It's wrung from the blood of the sailors who died
Young white body adrift in the tide

The older vampire turned around, pressing his back into his younger self's chest, keeping his hand on his cock and feeling Spike's reach around for his. Shifting and groping sent them hurling back toward the bed where one fell face down on it and the younger barely standing. Massage oil appeared from nowhere and blonde Spike begn oiling up his hand and cock. With a probing finger he slipped it into the older man's puckered opening and slid it around slowly, working up to a gentle in and out motion, making his partner writhe and moan beneath his touch. Moments later one digit was replaced by two and he felt a hand on his own, still stiff and pulsating member as he went for the third. Two hands worked their way behind the standing man and pulled him in closer, grasping his hips and pressing his hardness, trying to blindly guide him into the now stretched and waiting opening. He worked his way in, achingly, slowly, the Spike beneath him pressing back, urging him in, wanting to feel him inside pressing against that most delicious spot.

And what's in it for me my pretty young thing?
Why should I whistle, when the caged bird sings?
If you lose a wager with the king of the sea
You'll spend the rest of forever in the cage with me'
These are the soul cages.

Angel and Wes began to shift positions, Wes taking the top and straddling the larger man, their cocks doing a dance of their own around each other, lightly brushing up against the other. Wes, sitting up, took both of them in his hands at the same time and squeezed them together in one large grip which was almost painful. It was absolutely glorious. He began to torture them both with a series of pumping and squeezing and stroking, with an occasional effort at intertwining them like rose vines. He ran his thumbs over the head of each, precum coating the tips, glistening purple and throbbing. He found the massage oil and dribbled it generously over Angel's chest and stomach then filled his own hands with it, catching Angel's eyes and making sure he watched as he slowly slathered it on his own chest. When they were both glistening from it, he oiled up the pair of cocks between them, rubbing them alternately with strokes both gentle and rough, keeping them both off balance and uncertain what the next sensation would bring.

A body lies open in the fisherman's yard
Like the side of a ship where the iceberg rips
One less soul in the soul cages
One last curse on the fisherman's lips
These are the soul cages

Angel's hand reached over and fondled the standing Spike while he was busy preparing the other for a rear entry treat. All four men let out a simultaneous, moaning sigh which hung in the air for a long moment. Then Angel shifted, finding Wes quickly and ministering to him with slow, intense strokes until he could feel the human getting close and then backing off a little, leaving him in a heaving, panting mess. The man was a master in more ways than one. He was also a contortionist, which Wesley did not expect considering his size. Angel folded himself in half, his feet now solidly hooked around the headboard leaving himself open for Wes to enter as he wished. He wished. With some lovely oil and an exploratory finger or two, the larger man was ready and apparently eager, if his shallow, excited breathing was any indication. Slowly and gently, Wes entered him, a delighted moan coming from both of them.

Swim to the light. Swim to the light
He dreamed of the ship on the sea
It would carry his father and he
To a place they could never be found
To a place far away from this town

The older Spike, joyously receiving the younger inside him, moved closer to Angel & Wes, managing to rest his head on the back of Angel's thigh just enough to engulf his grandsire's throbbing cock with his mouth. Wes slipped his hands into that Spike's hair, twirling his fingers in it and feeling the accelerating up and down motion he used as he brought Angel off. The younger Spike still had one hand greedily working his other self's prick, while continuing to plunge into him, yet he still managed to reach for Wesley. Placing his hand on the back of the ex-watcher's head, he pulled him closer and captured his moutxploxploring it with his cool, eager tongue. The four men, joined together in this somehow indefinable way, stroked and squeezed and sucked and kissed until, like a row of flesh-covered dominoes, they each came one after the other, in a continuous explosion of passion and souls ... whether or not they had one.

A Newcastle ship without coals
They would sail to the island of souls


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