Of Belts and Brothels

Of Belts and Brothels

Angel was not paying her enough for this. She shivered in the cool LA night and drew her coat tighter around herself as she stepped over a puddle of what smelled like urine and glowed a suspicious bright green colour. Ick.

Oh yeah. Angel was going to owe her, big time. Why the hell couldn’t he have gone himself? Or sent Wesley, or Gunn? Was a whore house full of demons really the best place for a gorgeous human woman like her? But Angel was doing paperwork that Cordelia wouldn’t take on for anything, and Gunn was helping out his old gang with something, and Wesley was… busy. He hadn’t said what he was doing, just that he was ‘unavailable for assignment’, and left before Angel had even told them what it was.

“Spike?” To say that Cordeila was surprised to see him there, outside of a demon brothel in LA, was a vast understatement. He was supposed to be irritating the crap out of everyone in Sunnydale.

“Cordelia?” Oh shit. He could have done without seeing here tonight. Not that she wasn’t nice to look at, but he was here on a mission for the white hats, to get information out of one of Madam Dorian’s regular clients. He was a vampire, and a very reasonable one, from what he’d been told, not that Spike admired reasonability in any way, but that would make it easier to get information on some sort of ‘coming darkness’ that reds magic had told them about.

He’d probably just have to pay the man the 5 grand the watcher had given him. That or, more probably pocket the money and hand over a few virgins. He was in LA, so he figured they’d by pretty hard to come by, but he didn’t think it would take more than a couple of days to find them, and he’d be a whole lot richer when he went back to Sunnydale.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, face screwed up in that way that implied that she was doing Spike a favour by even talking to him. She looked at him, smoke drifting up lazily from his cigarette, leaning against the wall next to the front door, devious twinkle in his eye, and suddenly regretted asking that question. “Never mind. I don’t want to think about it. Oh… gross!”

“What? Oh, come on” Spike said with a roll of his eyes. “Like I’d need to pay for it. No, I’m looking for information.”

Cordelia looked skeptical, but sighed a resigned sigh at having found a potential ally to walk inside with. If there were two of them wanting to question demons, then maybe some of the focus would be taken off her. “Yeah, I’ll bet. Well, so am I, so you might as well help me.”

“Oi! What the hell makes you think I’m going to help you. I should eat you.”

“Like you could. I heard all about your chip, and how you’re helping out Buffy and her little slayerettes, which, by the way, is hilarious. Here, hold this,” she ordered, reaching in her pocket and pulling out a rolled up handful of leather, handing it to Spike. If she didn’t have to hang on to anything even remotely mojo-ish, all the better, in her opinion. That stuff seriously freaked her out.

“Your belt?” Spike asked, after he’d accepted the offering.

“Oh, please. That’s not my belt. As if I’d wear something with a giant…” what the hell was that, anyway? “aphid… on the buckle. It doesn’t even match my shoes.”

At Spike’s raised eyebrow she elaborated. “It’s Angel’s.”

“Well, I can see the pouf’s tastes have gone significantly south since the last time we met up,” Spike mumbled, looking the item over with distaste.

Cordelia sighed. “Angel doesn’t wear it. I hope. It’s magic. It makes people near it sort of… want to do whatever you say. Or whatever somebody says, or whatever they hear on the radio, or something,” she shook her head, trying to get her sentence back on track. She didn’t really know what it did, just that Angel had told her that if she got close to the vampire while she had it, then he’d tell her what she wanted to know.

“Right,” Spike said. “So it makes people susceptible to suggestion. Not bad.” It really wasn’t. Why hadn’t Giles thought of something like that? Spike would feel so much cooler if he could just walk in, demand to know something, get his answers, and walk back out again, never having to offer anything in return for his demands.

Maybe he’d just… hang on to the belt, for a while.

“Oh, don’t even think about keeping it. Angel would come after you so fast…”

“Yeah, because I’m so afraid of him,” Spike said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“You should be. He’d kick your ass, buddy.”

“Whatever. You gonna go in, or what?” Spike asked, losing patience. Even if he could keep the belt, he still wanted to go out and look for those virgins afterward. It was sounding like a lot of fun, now that he’d thought of it.

Cordelia knocked on the door, loudly and proudly and held her breath waiting for an answer. This could go so very wrong, and she was deathly terrified that it would. She tried to breath after a few seconds, slow and steady and calm, because Angel wouldn’t have sent her anywhere she couldn’t handle, right? Right.

The door was opened shortly after by a cut little female or some species or other, purple, with blonde hair and a long tail and she ushered them in to reception and discretely asked each one, individually, what they’d like.

When they’d told her of their wishes to speak to speak with a client, privately, and not in any was requiring the facilities of the establishment, they were both told to have a seat in the lounge and wait until said client was available and willing for conversation.

So they sat.

And they stared at their hands, and the walls and the humans and demons in various states of undress as they passed by and whispered words of promise and fulfillment to their clients, and they began to squirm.

It was to be expected, wasn’t it? Sitting in a brothel, watching people on their way to and from being serviced, all the pheromones floating around, it was bound to make them a tad… edgy.

“Stop breathing so loud!” Cordelia shouted, feeling the ghost of Spike’s breath along her neck, her arm, and hearing the harsh, labored sound of someone intently aroused. Not that she wasn’t feeling that way herself, especially since that girl had come in, asking that orange demon for something she couldn’t tell her mother about.

“I’m not even breathing at all, you ninny!” Spike shot back. “I’m a bloody vampire!” But he was a bloody horny vampire all of a sudden, and damn if what that man who’d just come in had suggested to that lady vampire didn’t sound like one hell of a good idea. “And you! Stop heaving your bosom at me!” Fuck.

Cordelia looked up at him, face contorted in anger and not a little arousal and opened her mouth to shout at him, but before she could even get a word out they were kissing. Mouths pressed together, tongues tangling sloppily and not entirely enjoyably, but at least it was something, and hand roving over backs and legs and arms.

And just as quickly as they had come together, they broke apart.

“Fuckin…” Spike spat out, wiping his mouth.

“What the…” Cordelia agreed, making vaguely gagging motions.

“It’s the belt!” Spike almost shouted.

Cordelia nodded vehemently. “It’s making is do stuff. Want to do stuff that we don’t. Just cause… you know, people are talking about it.”

“Right,” Spike agreed. “So we just have to block it out. Not a problem.” He nodded, solidly, like he really believed it.

“Yeah,” Cordelia said, moving one leg slowly closer to Spike’s until their knees were touching. “Block it out. Not a problem.”

“Course not,” Spike said, trying to make it sound believable as his hand dropped down on Cordelia’s thigh, and squeezed.

“Easy as pie,” she panted, pushing he leg into his touch and turning to face him.

Again, they were kissing, this time hands reaching further, deeper, and into decidedly more intimate places. They broke apart again, panting.

“Room?” Spike asked, breathless, even though he didn’t need to be.

“Hell yes,” Cordelia agreed, and the purple young hostess from earlier was at their side in an instant, offering them accommodations.

Over an hour passed with Spike and Cordelia locked away, and as they were both lying in the provided bed, comfortable and lazy and stated from a number of orgasms, they heard a knock on the door.

“Mr. Spike? Ms Chase? Mr. Trick will see you now.”

They both looked at each other, gazes shocked and accusing, like it was the first time they’d seen each other, and scrambled out of the bed, and into their clothes.

“No-one hears about this!” Cordelia demanded, buttoning her blouse.

“Yeah, like I’d really go around telling people about my most troubled hour,” Spike said, sliding into his duster.

She sighed, and brought herself up to full height, acting every inch the queen she knew she was. “Whatever. Time to work.”

Spike blew out a derisive puff of air, but followed her, out the door and down the hall. Then the purple lady pointed to the room they were expected in and left them outside, to go in whenever they chose.

Spike reached up to knock, wanted to get this done and over and go look for those elusive LA virgins, but Cordelia’s voice in his ear distracted him.

“Hey!” she said, jabbing Spike in the side. “Isn’t that Wesley?”

Spike barely managed to finish his half-arsed knock and look to where the girl was pointing. Wesley. Wasn’t he that watcher that had been in Sunnydale just before he came back> Yeah, Rupes had some choice things to say about that bloke, on occasion. “Er, could be,” he offered honestly. He’d only seen the odd picture, and he couldn’t be sure.

The door was opened then and they were ushered in, Spike walking just ahead of Cordy, and trying desperately, as he still had the belt in his possession, to not hear her say:

“And God! What the hell is he doing with that banana?”

END