The Sweetest Taboo

A/N: I've had some questions (mostly from beta's) about time lines on this. Think late 1990's early 2000. The laws set in the UK (as far as I've been told by someone who's studied them) are that homosexuals must be 18 years old before it is legal in the UK to have sex with them, hence Angel's anxiety and wanting to be 'good' like his stepfather beat into him. Spike is only 17 at this point. Since then, it has been moved to 16, but for the purposes of this fic, the legal age is 18.

Chapter 4

Pacing, it seemed, was the only thing Angel could think to do, or do to think. Drusilla had made a point, odd though that was, in her words. She was right to point out that William would like for Angel to touch him. Hell, Angel would like to touch him, love to touch him, but he couldn't. A look, a kiss, a gentle squeeze on the arse here and there meant nothing...it didn't mean consent, it meant intrest, a nice thought. A very nice thought in Angel's opinion.

There were nights, in the dark as he sat watching William watch him, that they would lock eyes and he could see the need written in his boy's eyes, on his face. But, what was Angel waiting for? Did he expect for William to just one day pull him onto the bed, work him with his soft, boy-ish hands? Yes, actually, he did. He needed that, wanted that. Angel wanted William to want him, wanted to hear it, to feel it, to know the truth in it.

His stepfather, Wesley, had made sure that he knew right from wrong, knew what was acceptable in society and what wasn't. It didn't matter that Wesley was no judge of that, having molested his daughter for years. The scars, both physical and mental, had made their impressions on Angel. In the dark of night, when his thoughts had turned wicked and he dreamt of his boy laying under him, he could hear his stepfather in the background, tell him it wasn't proper, that Angel was worthless and would amount to nothing. And, there were times, when Angel had believed him...even in the dreams and musings. He heard it so often, had felt the cut of the belt, the stink of the wood too often not to believe it...even a little.

For tonight, however, he would do as he's always done with William...he would go in and watch him. He would watch those crystal blue eyes burn into him as William watched Angel work himself. It was unfufilling, but it would have to do. It was the only thing that didn't leave him feeling dirty in the dark...only unstatisfied.

Walking to the room he kept for William, Angel could hear moans coming from the other side. His lips quirked in a half smile as he thought of his boy getting started without him. Quietly he opened the door and stepped in.

The bed sat in the left hand corner of the room, leaving Angel with an almost side shot of what was going on.

"What is this?" Angel asked softly as he watched Drusilla move on top of William.

"You've come to play, my Angel," Drusilla crooned. "He was waiting like a good boy, holding it all for you, but I wanted my taste first. Like candy he is, sweet and sticky."

Spike didn't hear a word Drusilla had said. He stopped moving, stopped thinking and turned wide, scared eyes to Angel. The fury was written all over the older man's face.

"Angel, I...," Spike said, his voice trailing off. He couldn't think of an excuse, and really, there wasn't one. He'd woken up to Drusilla woking him with her mouth. It had been wonderful and different, and he hadn't made her stop. He should've made her stop. Then she'd convinced him with pretty words that Angel wouldn't mind, that she just wanted to play. He'd never been with a female before. It had been new and exciting, but now, looking at Angel, he was devistated, angry, and hurt. He'd been played by the raven-haired girl, manipulated, and he hadn't put up a fight.

Pushing Drusilla off him, Spike tore off the condom and went to Angel. Words weren't spoken, and the crooning of Drusilla didn't reach them. They stared at each other. All Spike wanted to do was reach out to Angel and pull him to him, kiss him, let him know that what he wanted wasn't Drusilla, but Angel.

"What the hell is going on?" Angel asked again, his voice low and shaking with anger. He wanted to backhand the boy infront of him. He wanted William to hurt the way he was hurting right now. That had been the last thing he'd thought he'd ever see, his sister riding the boy he wanted.

"Woke up an' she was here," Spike said. "Angel, I didn't know...I thought...don't know what I thought."

"Obviously," Angel said.

"The Poppet did nothing wrong, my Angel," Drusilla said, walking to her half brother, naked, not a stich on. "He was so lonely waiting for you to come play with him. Dreams snatched at him, pulling him to and fro. He thought I was you at first. Cried your name out like a song."

"Shut up, Dru," Angel said. He didn't want to hear anything from his half sister. It was bad enough that it had been her, he didn't need to hear about how his name sounded on his boys lips as she...he couldn't even think it, let alone say it.

"Don't be cross, Luv."

"I'll be cross if I damn well please," Angel said, not looking at her. "Get out of here, Dru."

"But, my Angel."

"Get out."

Drusilla walked out of the room, but on her way out she reached out to touch Angel. He grabbed her wrist, finally turning to her. He burned holes through her, holding her wrist a little to hard before letting go. She turned and left quickly, tears in her eyes, but Angel knew she'd be alright. Drusilla was always alright.

Moving further into the room, Angel sat down at the seat near the window. He leaned forward and rubbed his eyes, trying to get the image of Drusilla ontop of William. Angel took a few deep breaths before looking up at his boy.

"Sit down," Angel said, his voice a bit calmer. He watched as William walked to the bed and sat down.

"Look, mate-"

"Just shut up for a moment," Angel said, cutting William off. He didn't know what he was going to say, but just the sound of his boy's voice made his chest hurt, made him hurt. He didn't quite know how this had happened. How did Drusilla end up getting to William? How had it all gone so wrong?

Spike sat on the bed, waiting for Angel. He expected rage, a fist, yelling, but not this silence that greeted him. It was unnerving and worse than any beating, or so it seemed. What was worse was that he couldn't explain himself, couldn't make an excuse. At first, yeah, he could have told Angel he'd thought it a dream, thought it to be Angel sucking and licking. But, he couldn't use that, he'd seen who it was between his legs, he'd known it was Drusilla. Still, Spike hadn't stopped her, hadn't pushed her away like he knew now he should have.

Standing up quickly, Angel walked to the door without looking back at William. He wanted out, the air felt like it was choking him.

"Angel! Wait!" Spike yelled, placing a hand on Angel's arm. He didn't see the elbow until it was too late and it connected with his jaw. Spike staggered backwards, hitting the bed and dropping to his knees on the floor.

"Oh God," Angel said, horror written on his face. He hadn't meant to do that. He looked down at William, the boy's hand held to his face.

"I'm sorry," Angel said, and left the room.

"Bloody hell," Spike cursed under his breath. He stood up, letting the room spin for a moment before it righted itself. Quickly, Spike grabbed his pants and put them on, not bothering with any other clothing and ran after Angel. He'd fucked it up, he knew he fucked it up.

"Angel, wait!" Spike called out again when he saw Angel turn a corner, but the man didn't wait, just kept going in that long stride of his, head hung.

Finally, Spike caught up to Angel as he stepped outside on the the rather expansive back deck that led down to the large yard. This was where Spike liked to smoke sometimes, espcially when the sun when down and all of the colors could be seen in the sky. But, this wasn't about the sky, this was about Angel. Spike remembered his father telling him once about responsiblity, or something like that. The memory was fuzzy, but he knew he had to make it right with Angel. He had to find a way to make it up to him. His time with Angel was the best he'd had in years and he wouldn't give it up now because he'd messed up.

"What do you want?" Angel asked, not looking at Spike. He didn't want to see the boy. He couldn't. It hurt, painful and scorching, to see those eyes and to know that Drusilla was the one to see pleasure written on them at her hands.

"Lot's of things, I 'spose, but doubt that's what you were askin', mate," Spike said, more casually then he felt. He withdrew his cigarettes from his pants and lit one offering one to Angel. He took it, still not looking at Spike and lit up, inhaling deeply before turning and walking further away from the boy.

"I wanted lots of things for you," Angel said softly. "Wanted you."

"What do you mean?" Spike asked, confused. He wasn't sure he was hearing what he thought he was.
"I tried to buy you, from Ethan," Angel said, pulling on the cigarette again. He didn't know why he'd said that, told William that, but he had.
"That right?" Spike asked, curious. What had this man gone through for him? Was it for him?

"Yeah," Angel said, a short laugh trailing after the word. "Do you know what he did? Or did he even tell you?"

Finally, Angel turned around and looked at William, saw the bruise that was beginning to form on his left cheek. Slowly, Angel raised his hand to touch it, to smooth the hurt away. He watched at William's eyes fluttered closed and his head tilted towards Angel. But, Angel couldn't do it, touch him, not yet at least, and so he let his hand fall away. Blue eyes started back at him hurt and confused.

"No, he didn't tell you, did he? No. Instead he'd told me you were his and I could only borrow, like before with Rupert. I'm allowed to touch, smell, taste, but never have. It was always the way Ethan was and I'm not surprised it hasn't changed.

"You are his, you know. He owns you. I can't...I can't have you," Angel said.

"'M not his. Never was," Spike said, moving closer to Angel. He'd never know about Ethan and Angel. There was a past there, he could see it in the haunted eyes of the older man. It was written all over his face, the way it fell everytime he said Ethan's name. There'd been a time when Spike would've reacted the same way, but no more, no longer.

"You are!" Angel yelled. "You'll always be his! You don't just walk away from Ethan. You don't just tell him goodbye and expect that all ties will be cut and nothing will come to pass over time. There's always a price with Ethan, always. I was willing to pay that price for you, in money, but he didn't want that. You're too 'precious' to him for just money to please him."

Spike stood there, shocked. This was the most he'd ever heard about this from Angel. He'd known there'd been a reason behind the soft kisses and the ghost-like touches, but he'd thought it something more mundane, not jealousy.

"Are you daft?" Spike asked.

"What?"

"Said, are you daft? 'M not his no more then the bloody sun belongs to you."

"You don't understand, William."

"Nothin' to understand, mate. He's just a man, an arse of a man, but a man. He's got nothin' over me but money, and that I'm gettin' well enough on my own. Was gonna leave in a bit, break it off, tell him to find another little boy to play with."

"He won't let you."

"Like hell he won't. He's got no say. 'S my life, my body! I'll do what I damn well please with it."

"He'll hunt you down, find you."

"Let 'em try, yeah? Wasn't plannin' on runnin', mate. 'M not afraid of him."

"You should be. You don't know him. Hell, even I don't know him."