Dust

SETTING: Up the alley.
RATING: NC-17 when I can get the boys in the mood and in position.
DISCLAIMER: The boys aren't mine. *pouts*
WEBSITE: www.colddeadseed.com ( for Spangel, Spuffy, Spike, James and writers far far better than me.)
FEEDBACK: Mmmmm, yummy. Yes please.


DUST

Part 5.


“Please open your eyes.”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“Nothing happened,” added the voice timidly.

Angel kept his eyes firmly closed. He was embarrassed. And something most certainly HAD happened and was continuing to happen as long as he kept his arms wrapped tightly around the body lying with him, holding it close and feeling his body fit so perfectly into it’s angular contours.

The trouble with finding yourself in a situation such as this was how to extricate yourself without:

a.) Further embarrassment
b.) Pretending you wanted to find yourself lying with them like this in the first place
c.)Acknowledging the other person in any way as you prepared to make a speedy exit

and

d.) Leaving them your phone number when they asked for it..

Okay, so ‘d’ wasn’t really a problem, but in the hour since Angel had woken up tangled up in another’s *refuse to acknowledge whose!* limbs he had been unable to figure out how to extract himself from this situation with an ounce of decorum or manliness. And of course the longer he lay there pretending to be asleep, the more of a schmuck he knew he appeared, for He had sensed the moment Angel had woken.

How did Angel know that?

Well, it could have been the way He gently wound an arm around his back, snuggled into his chest and rubbed the pads of his thumbs over his shoulder blades and up and down his spine. Yes, it could possible have been that. Or maybe it was the way He purred happily into Angel’s neck in a (vain) attempt to make him respond. Or perhaps it was when he kissed Angel’s fingers which were inexplicably entwined in His and let out a contented sigh.

When the *infernal!* purring started again Angel had to react, so he opened his eyes, making sure that the first thing He would see was Angel’s extreme displeasure and non-compliance in this outrageous circumstance.

The fact that Spike looked like an … Angel …. and was mere centimetres away gazing at him lovingly knocked out whatever menace Angel had managed to inject into his glare within an instant of him opening his eyes.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked softly, as if not to scare Angel.

He had slept well. Incredibly well, which made Angel think that he should be suspicious of any nocturnal nefarious activities that might have taken place while he slept.

Did Rohypnol work on vampires?

Angel managed to conjure up another frown, which off-puttingly didn’t seem to affect Spike at all.

“I love watching you sleep’” he murmured, gazing at Angel like he was some kind of deity.

Angel wished he hadn’t pretended to sleep for so long if this was the reaction it elicited from Spike.

“Enough!” he growled simply and removed the fingers wound around his own * as opposed to the other way round of course!* and rolled away. For the first time, Spike looked mildly put off and he stood back as Angel put his shirt back on and overtly inspected his body for signs of ‘interference’, but never once did Room 5 Spike let his gaze stray from Angel.

“I’m going!” growled Angel, immediately berating himself for having bothered to explain his actions.

“Please be careful. I’ll miss you every minute you’re not with me.”

Angel spun around and glowered at Spike. “I wasn’t ‘with you’ last night. I have never been ‘with you’. Do you comprehend what I’m saying? I can’t stand you gazing at me like some love-struck puppy. This is not you, Spike! And why am I even bothering to say this? You are not the real Spike. He would stake himself if any of your words came out of his own mouth. You’re just some screwy abstract version of Spike who happens to be less damaging to me than the rest of the crowd, and yes, I know you don’t have a clue what I’m talking about when I mention all the other Spike’s but just get it through your soft skull that I am not your Spike and the only reason I’ll come back to this room is to stake you! Got it?”

Rested, yet fed up, and refusing to look at the expression his words had left on Spike’s face, Angel shook his shoulders out and strode hurriedly - to avoid meeting Illyria - past all the doors to the next unexplored cave which was Room 12, giving the Demon in Room 11 an evil glare on the way past. Stake raised, he entered Room 12 cautiously.

“Haaaaaaaaaa!!!! Look at you!”

Room 12 Spike pointed at Angel and cracked up laughing.

Two minutes later, he was still laughing and Angel lowered the stake and faced him, hands on hips, annoyed, but feeling a slight sense of consolation that this Spike didn’t seem keen to profess any love for him.

“You crack me up Angel. Po faced and dour as always and never willing to take yourself lightly.”

“Are you finished?”

But this Spike clearly hadn’t.

“Has hair like that ever been in fashion in the past two hundred years Angel?”

It was now difficult to not touch his hair, but Angel resisted and glowered some more.

“Is this all you have to offer, Spike? Wisecracks?”

“Oh that’s all I have to offer you, Angel. Can’t help it with all the ammunition you provide me with. I mean check out how boring and broody you are. Nobody takes you more seriously than you do yourself. Have you ever laughed out loud at anything you’ve done without angsting over it’s impression on others first?”

Angel hadn’t, but he didn’t stop him now from putting on his meanest frown and gripping the stake harder in his hand. He recognised this one. This was the Spike who teased him mercilessly. Who laughed at everything he did wrong, or did right but didn’t do with enough humour or self deprication. This was the Spike who strode into his office with no better plan for the day except to perch himself on Angel’s desk and make fun of him.

Angel growled.

“Yeah mate, you’re real scary.”

Spike laughed at Angel as he advanced on him. He laughed when Angel raised the stake. And Angel swore that long after the last fragment of dust exploded Spike’s mocking laugh could still be heard echoing around the cave walls.

Staking Spike. It wasn’t right. It was only possible with this Room 12 Spike because his personality was so one dimensional that Angel was positive he was only a very poor imitation of the real Spike.

Still, the loss he felt was real and Angel wondered how he could possibly manage to stake them all. Finding the real Spike would at least mean that he could take stock and relax somewhat before dusting the rest quickly and getting out of this godforsaken place.

His soul weighing heavy, stake raised half-heartedly, Angel entered Room 13. This Spike was leaning back nonchalantly against the far end of the cave, fingers hooked heavily over the waistband of his jeans, one leg raised up rocking slightly so the sole of his shoe scuffed the stone wall.

“Angel.”

There didn’t seem any point in acknowledging his own name, so Angel merely planted his feet, held onto the stake, then crossed his arms and waited for this Spike to reveal his particular predilections.

“I love it when you go all silent and broody,” said Spike seductively, as he tended to do when he was teasing anyone – male or female – Angel reminded himself as he watched Spike push off the wall and stretch out his limbs.

“Gotta love that macho stance too. When you cross your arms and spread your legs like that it makes all your muscles bulge and ripple. I hear that people get incredibly turned on by that sort of thing.”

Annoyed, Angel snapped, “Get on with it Spike or are you just going to turn out to be yet another annoying version of yourself?”

Spike swaggered across the room, his twinkling eyes eating Angel up from top to toe. He stopped a comfortable step away and kept up the intimate perusal, then stepped forward so he was nose to nose with Angel. The space between them had suddenly become not quite so comfortable, but Angel was determined not to be intimidated by this version, so he held his ground and glowered, not quite able to decide whether this Spike could be labelled ‘Teasing’ or just plain ‘Asking for a Massive Slap’.

If Angel had guessed what was about to happen next he would have chosen a far more suitable description for Room 13 Spike. For Angel was about to be glommed onto. By Spike.

For those of you not familiar with the word ‘glom’, it is described in dictionary.com as such


glom - To seize upon or latch onto something:


In this instance, it was Angel’s mouth that was seized and latched on to. By Spike’s mouth. It’s doubtful that Angel had ever heard of the word glom, or if he had it was doubtful that he ever thought anyone would choose to glom onto him, least of all Spike. But in a flash Angel found himself the recipient of one of the biggest glommings onto in the history of the action.

He batted and swatted and pursed his lips like a cat’s arse to try to evade Spike’s mouth, but nothing he did seemed to deter Spike’s lips from trying to attach to his own. So concerned was he with the placement of Spike’s lips on his that Angel’s usually proficient fists didn’t seem to be able to keep up their end of the fight sufficiently to elude Spike’s strong hands which managed to surround his wrists and push them back into the wall beside them with surprising ease.

So it was just Spike’s lips against Angel’s lips, insistently asking for entry and consistently being refused.

Until a hand freed one of his wrists and dropped down to roughly grab a handful of Angel’s genitals through his trousers.

The shock made Angel open his mouth to scream.

Angel’s mouth opening gave Spike’s tongue entry.

Spike’s tongue entering his mouth sent Angel into such a state of disbelief and shock that he fully forgot to fight back for the next minute while he was given a damn good glomming onto and the type of grope only teenagers with an opportunistic adult-free desperate minute can usually execute.

The spell broke when Spike moaned. That in itself wasn’t enough to make Angel react, but when he realised that the moan had coincided with the hand now stroking what was a very rigid and urgent erection thrusting and straining to be freed from quality woollen trousers Angel soon snapped out of it.

He did what any self-respecting vampire who was being glommed onto and compromised would do in this situation.

Angel bit down hard.

It had a twofold effect.

1.)It rapidly removed Spike’s tongue from his mouth.

2.)It caused Spike’s fingers to constrict in pain, which unfortunately meant that Angel’s cock was squeezed with a matching strength.

Everybody yelped.

Then there was silence.

Angel looked at Spike in horror, not being able to comprehend why he had been kissed and fondled.

Angel looked at Spike some more, noticing the way Spike was panting and with each pant how the blood dribbled out of the corner of his mouth and spilt down over his chin.

Blood. It was something that humans could never understand. Even Buffy could never quite grasp it’s full impact on vampires.

Blood. It called to vampires to fight, to fuck, it assaulted all their senses and dragged something up from the core of their demons that demanded attention. This was a repeat snapshot moment, one of maybe a dozen over the years that Angel could remember between himself and Spike. Their bloodied heads lifting from a fight, ragged, dirty, and a moment of clarity when their eyes meet like this and a frission of understanding, of sexual tension with full knowledge of the repression each held passed between them.

Only … this wasn’t just a moment. Neither of them were averting their gazes, hiding the possibility of ever letting the moment stretch out. No, Spike was still regarding Angel like a hungry wolfish predator and Angel couldn’t take his eyes off the epitome of sin slowly approaching him.

With each slow rolling step forward Angel wanted to yell at Spike that even though he was a fake Spike, one who was making his balls tingle and tighten with anticipation, this was still so so wrong. He wanted to hit Spike until the passion in his eyes was clouded by blood. He wanted to rip out the tongue which slid out seductively to lick the blood from his lips. He wanted to snap off the fingers that were now sliding over his shoulders and up into his hair.

Spike kissed Angel and suddenly he had no idea what he wanted beside just this.

Liam had been with many girls. Wenches, he’d called them then, not bothering to remember their names or details any more than Angelus had the human victims whose warm bodies struggled beneath him. It wasn’t until Darla that a woman had entered his world who commanded his respect, who could match his hautiness, his passion and desire.

But, she was still a woman. Smaller, more delicate, regardless of her often savage countenance and outstanding ability to fly into venomous rages. Angel would always be able to physically dominate even if Sire issues had more often than not held him back.

Drusilla could be just as passionate but she had the attention span of a gnat and her high mental maintenance made Angelus dismissive and impatient

Then of course there was Spike. Spike whose cum’s scent and orgasmic cries he knew from all those indulgent days when there were four equally evil, equally indulgent vampires gliding through Europe feeding their bloodlust and all their sexual whims.

Well, almost all.

Darla had urged Angelus to take a newly turned William, spurring him on with husky encouragement and purring descriptions of the rape and defilement she and Drusilla wanted to see.

Angelus knew better than to accede.

Darla was nothing if not perceptive, and had it never occurred to Angelus that forcing William to have sex with him might have been pleasurable then there might not have been a problem with giving in to her bedside encouragements. But when Angelus looked at William lying passive and panting beside him on the bed, dishevelled and sated from sex with Drusilla he knew five things instantly.

1.) It would definitely be pleasurable.

2.) He would never be able to resist the chance to take William again.

3.) When William slowly blinked back up at him, watching for his reaction to Darla’s suggestion there was an unmistakeable lack of revulsion in his eyes.

4.) Darla would not hesitate to kill William if Angelus enjoyed him more than her.

5.) There was a reasonable chance that this would be the case.

So Angelus did what was a very rare thing - he denied himself. In denying Darla also he was ensured of much teasing, then arguing, and finally much fucking, but it was a small sacrifice to pay for what he felt would have been a much more acute loss if Darla had taken offence to William's power to attract him.

Souling provided Angel with an excuse to practice denial about an endless amount of actions, thoughts and things which horrified him. So along with refusing to accept Angelus as a part of his souled self, he had found himself with the opportunity to label the attraction to William as something in the past tense and never to be linked to his new atoneful persona.

At no time had that façade broken down.

Until now.

Kissing Room 13 Spike was a total revelation. He confirmed things that Angelus had suspected all those many years ago. His lips were soft and immensely kissable. It turned out that male skin – this male skin – was as soft and fresh as any female’s. His hair – although so different from that of a century ago and seemingly unable to move out of place – felt surprisingly silky when Angel tentatively let his fingers run through it ( to a groan of approval).

A part of Angel was screaming for a quick exit, so the easiest way to ignore that side of himself was to just keep on doing what he was doing. That was the easy part. The hard part was …. well, there were two hard parts at this particular moment in time. Two long hard lengths which were being rubbed and thrust and rocked against each other between the two bodies.

In the end it was Angel’s erection – and his alarm at where it would lead him – that caused him to break the kiss with a pant and hold Spike at a shaky arm’s length.

“You …. You are not Spike.”

He might have guessed that he would receive the standard blank look at that revelation, nevertheless he continued for his own sanity.

“You are not Spike, but that doesn’t make the fact that you are kissing me any easier.”

“Kissing gets easier with practice,” advised Spike, moving in to prove this theory.

“Oh god, no more! No, no, no! Get away from me Spike. I don’t want to kiss you and you sure as hell don’t want to find out that you kissed me.”

Angel was of course referring to the real Spike in that latter comment, but Room 13 Spike seemed keen to take the mantel regardless.

“Angel, I want to do far more than just kiss you.”

There was only ever going to be a look of abject horror from Angel as these husky words were spoken. It didn’t help his sanity when his eyes followed Spike’s hands down to where he was indicating his distended crotch.

“Oh god. No!” In an apparent attempt to get away Angel flattened himself back against the hard, stone wall, but still couldn’t take his eyes off Spike’s crotch.

“Okay, then you fuck me then.”

“What?” came the yelped reply.

The word “fuck” deserved more attention than Spike’s hard on it seemed, for Angel stood wide eyed and stared at the lips which had said the word and would have been on the verge of hyperventilation if he had so needed to breathe. Unfortunately for Angel, Spike merely smiled, raised an eyebrow cheekily and lowered his own gaze to Angel’s crotch.

The other unfortunate thing was that the mention of the word “fuck” caused Angel’s vivid imagination to conjure up visions of him doing just that. To Spike. Switching the fucker and the fuckee around didn’t help, and only caused Angel to make a small distressed noise and fearfully clench his buttocks.

Spike let out a deep and dirty chuckle. “Maybe you need some verbal encouragement.”

In a flash he had Angel’s zipper down and cock out, leaving Angel on the verge of hysteria as he looked down at where Spike knelt between his – increasingly wobbly – legs.

“Did I say ‘verbal’ help? I meant ‘oral’.”

With that, Spike plunged his mouth forward, enveloped Angel’s cock and began to suck and lick like his life depended on it..

Poor Angel. The only positive in this whole sorry situation was that he hadn’t had a decent blow job for such a long time that the glorious sensations shut down his hysteria for a while. Not that he wasn’t still capable of showing signs of great distress in amongst the relief. Each moan of pleasure was accompanied by him banging his head back against the stone wall of the cave, and his hands – trying to grab onto anything but Spike’s head as it rocked enthusiastically back and forth along his cock – scrabbled for something to squeeze onto along the barren rock, only managing to shred his fingernails in the process and make his fingertips bleed.

Perhaps the most distressing realisation of all for Angel was the flickering recognition of the fact he was urgently thrusting his hips forward to meet Spike’s lips. How it seemed impossible for him to suppress any pleasurable noises when his cock hit the back of Spike’s throat or when an ice cool tongue stiffened and teasingly ran the path along the rigid veins from the base to the head of his penis. He couldn’t pretend his knees weren’t buckling when Spike reached between his legs and began to fondle and massage his balls. And when one of the fingers reached further between his legs and began to make small threatening circles around that place …. Well, Angel knew he was about to have the orgasm of the century.

Therefore it came as something of a shock when hands, fingers, mouth, tongue were suddenly removed from his body.

Angel’s eyes had been shut tight from the first shocking moment when he saw Spike’s mouth descend onto his cock. Now they flew open and his pants of desire became gasps of desperation and not a little confusion as Spike slowly stood up and faced him.

“You still denying you want it? Want me?” drawled Spike with an exaggerated tone of disbelief as he gestured down at Angel’s rigid cock poking out from his dishevelled trousers at an alarming angle.

To his credit, Angel managed to nod and even started to shakily try to tuck himself back in his trousers.

Spike just tutted and turned away from Angel. If Angel was relieved at this, it only lasted a second. For that’s how long it took Spike to drop his own trousers and bend double in front of Angel.

The universe folded then compressed itself into that one small flushed rose hole staring back at Angel from between Spike’s ass cheeks. The only other thing that seemed to make a guest appearance in Angel’s line of vision was his own cock waving urgently below like a Dalek’s sinkplunger.

He tried to remember that this wasn’t Spike. That Room 13 Spike was not real. But remembering this didn’t seem to have any bearing on why he shouldn’t be tempted to ram home into that hole. After all, Angel didn’t want Spike and he was positive that he also didn’t want any other pseudo version of Spike, so whether this one was real or not shouldn’t matter.

Yet still he stood transfixed and the blood and passion seemed to spin and rage urgently like a washing machine whirlpool concentrated inside his cockhead. Angel didn’t practise total abstinence but it wasn’t a stretch to say that his wanking hand could use a bit more practice of late. Strangely, since Spike arrived in LA, Angel found that any attempt to stroke himself to some relief just brought about visions of Spike. It was too disturbing to continue of course, so his cock and all it had to offer became yet another place, another pleasure that Angel resolved to suppress.

But now his mind was playing tricks on him. The devil argued the case for his cock and it urged him forward. Throat dry, shaking slightly, Angel reached out a tentative hand and felt the smooth toned skin that covered one of those pale rounded mounds either side of the puckered entrance. It was all so easy now. His cock didn’t need guiding. It seemed to have a tracking device which lead the tip straight towards the hole.

He found that his other hand had betrayed him too and now both of them were squeezing and groping the muscular cheeks, rubbing and cupping and finally parting them further so nothing was left to the imagination.

The head of his cock touched the cleft of the ass and slid easily up and down the groove on clear familiar liquid which was copiously leaking from the small slit in the tip. Angel found himself making a pathetic whine, but this manifestation of his distress did nothing to make him stop. Up and down he slid, and the friction on the veins of his cock almost was enough to make him come, but the temptation of what delights lay in store for him if he just went that small step further and plunged into the hole kept orgasm at bay.

Finally, on one of the up strokes the tip of his cock lined up with the tight puckered hole and Angel rocked forward.

When Angel’s cock penetrated the entrance, it was like no sensation he had ever experienced. When he pushed in further it was like his penis had been enveloped by an organic vice which sucked him in to the base of his cock. It all felt so right. When he moved out, then pushed back in, his balls slapped satisfyingly against the taut spread thighs. When he thrust his hips forward he could feel his cockhead ramming an inner wall and those fascinating muscles inside contracted again and proceeded to try and milk him dry.

Angel moaned the moan of a man in the midst of extreme pleasure. And if all his senses were filled with only his cock and his pursuit of gratification then possibly he would have continued thrusting to completion. However one noise changed it all.

Room 13 Spike moaned too.

He was completely entitled to of course. Indeed, being bent double and having a recently unfulfilled vampire planted far up your ass banging away gave a person every right to moan. But unfortunately, it wasn’t the wisest thing to do if the person behind you had been doing his best to pretend that your asshole wasn’t actually attached to a body, a familiar blonde head or to any body part which was capable of emitting a moan.

Angel heard the moan and froze immediately. In that one instant the anonymous hole he was jackhammering into became Spike’s hole. His hands weren’t just digging into unidentified flesh; it became Spike’s flesh. The true horror hit him when Spike raised his head and looked back up at him.

“You want me to take over while you take a breather old man?”

Room 13 Spike only managed to push himself back and impale himself onto Angel’s cock once before he was hoisted up and thrown violently into the opposite wall. Angel was still panting, but it was a dangerous mixture of unfulfilled lust and murderous rage. He looked from Spike to his purplish raw cock and back again then howled in horror and fled the room.

Poor Angel.