Pet (pet_23) wrote in just_a_girl_fic,

Sharp-Dressed Man A/S NC-17

More fic to archive it's not new so you don't have to read it unless you want to.

Won Best Comedy Award at Angel Without Wings Awards

TITLE: Sharp-Dressed Man
AUTHORS: Pet and Salustra
SUMMARY: Harmony leaves and Angel needs a temp….This was inspired by those lovely pics of James Marsters in a suit. We giggled ourselves silly writing this and we hope you enjoy it as much as we did.
PAIRING: Angel/Spike
SPOILERS: Season 5 AtS: Nothing specific

TITLE: Sharp-Dressed Man
AUTHORS: Pet and Salustra
SUMMARY: Harmony leaves and Angel needs a temp….This was inspired by those lovely pics of James Marsters in a suit. We giggled ourselves silly writing this and we hope you enjoy it as much as we did.
PAIRING: Angel/Spike
SPOILERS: Season 5 AtS: Nothing specific
DISCLAIMER: We don’t own any of these characters; they belong to Joss and ME. We really wish we could borrow Spike and Angel for a little while though.
FEEDBACK: Yes please.


Harmony buzzes Angel on the intercom. "Boss, I have something important to talk to you about. Can I come in the office?"

Sighing, Angel presses the intercom button. "Yes, Harmony, but make this quick."

Harmony comes in, paper clutched in hand. "Hey, Boss, just got this memo from the Senior Partners. It seems all the senior secretaries are being ordered to go to a training conference for two weeks, starting tomorrow. So you'll have to make do with temps til I get back. Sorry!" She chirps.

The moment the word ‘temp’ comes out of Harmony’s mouth, Angel is prepared to beg, plead and kill human beings to make sure she stays. He shakes his head. "No, no temps. Temps very bad. You’re perfect. No training for lovely perfect secretary."

"Oh, boss you say the sweetest things...but I have to go. Senior Partners and all...they don't send suggestions, they send orders. Here it is...see?" And she thrusts the paper in front of him.

Angel scowls at the paper and wills it to burn to a cinder and ash but to his dismay it stays perfect and pristine. Well, goddamn it…he is a ‘Master Vampire’ and he has other ways to distract. He gets up and sits on the edge of the desk, picking up Harmony’s hand in his and smiling a brilliant smile while rubbing in small comforting circles in her palm. "Have I told you how very pretty you are lately?"

Harmony breathes unnecessary breaths and her eyes open wide. " I mean…no, you haven't."

"Well then, I need plenty of time to catch up. So we can move you a desk in here and I can tell you twenty-four seven to make up for my bad, bad manners. How about we start now?" Angel says quickly. He's won… goddamn he should because he is undoubtedly the shit. But he would rather do this then deal with a temp any day. It's really a small price to pay.

"Oh, boss I really wish I could. But it will have to wait until I get back from this training. Gotta leave to go pack now. I'll arrange for a temp before I go."

"Noo!" Angel cries out, dropping to his knees grabbing Harmony’s. "No, please…the last one…she chewed gum and popped...popped...popped bubbles and called me big ol’ bossy vamp bear and she didn't earn the right to my annoyance. Harmony, please don't leave me with another one of them. They are more evil than soulless me. Please."

"Wow, Boss. I mean I'm terribly flattered and all but the Senior Partners will turn me into something unpleasant if I don't go. It's only two weeks." She reaches down and pats his shoulder. "C'mon, Boss, you're a big bad vamp. You can handle it. I'll be back before you know it."

Angel almost cries but lets go of Harmony’s legs muttering. "Fine." He gets up, his shoulders slumping as he moves back to his desk. He lays his head down and mutters to himself, "It's the hair. My charm doesn't work anymore because I don't have the hair...and the voice...damn it. Americanized. Used to make people swoon from a look. I'm temp fodder. Where has my power gone?" He sighs.

A short while later Angel's intercom buzzes. A nasal, whiny voice comes over the intercom. "Mr. Angel, this is Lobelia. I'm your new temporary secretary. So, do you like to have your appointments announced before the come in?" Her voice is grating, like being scraped over broken glass...only slightly worse.

Angel cringes and pushes the button. He's not even going to bother with this one. "You’re fired," he says tiredly.

"But sir, I just started!" She whines.

Angel screams, falls out of his seat and covers his ears. A few minutes later, when he is sure the ringing, piercing, loud thumping has stopped, and he can still hear something, anything he crawls back in his seat pushes the button and says very carefully, "You...are...fired."

"Yes, sir." She says in a somber tone.

A short while later another voice comes on. "Oh, wow. So like, this button works the intercom. Hello in there, dude. I'm like your new secretary. Name's Rainbow. So do you like to be called Angel or Mr. Angel or boss-man or what?"

Angel starts to cry now. He swears the Senior Partners or whoever runs this specific part of W&H loves to torture him. Because if it isn't Harmony, it's someone Angel would rather kill outright than even think of biting. He pushes the button. He's going to try with this one. The last time there was a temp day he fired twenty-five temps and the gang was starting to think he wasn't a man at all but a woman on her period with a good glamour. "Boss is fine, thank you. Could you bring me my blood please, Rainbow?"

"Ewww...blood? I'm a vegan, boss and I don't handle things that were once alive. Completely against my principles."

Angel rubs his face and swears on all that’s holy he will not stake himself on handy Mr. Number 2 pencil. "Never mind, Rainbow. Are there any meetings I need to attend to or files I need to look over, papers I need to sign?"

"Oh, wow. I'll like, check, and get back to you on that. I mean there's lots of stuff here and I don't have any idea what most of it is."

Angel cracks Mr. Number 2 and pushes the button, fighting the gameface that’s wanting so bad to come to the fore. "Rainbow. You’re fired. And tell them not to even bother sending anyone else. If they try I'll murder them and their damn families." And with that he rips the intercom from the desk and tosses it across the room. A weight lifts from his shoulders to leave this delicious tingle that can only be described as freedom from temp torture---the worst torture ever made---and he knows, he's the damn master of torture.

It's later that evening that Wes calls Fred, Lorne, and Gunn to meet with him in his office. They all arrive and get through greetings. "Well, the reason I called you all here is that apparently the personnel office is up in arms. Harmony left for a training conference and they can't find any temp to suit Angel. Only he needs to have a secretary. We all know this. So, the question is, what is to be done?"

Gunn shrugs. "I don't know, man, but I'm telling you this. Do ‘not’ send him another temp. The last one that came was a hippie type and left praying to the god above. Angel told her no ‘more’ temps and I so am not going to defy him. Do you remember the Domino Temp day? Twenty-five of them came and fell, English, and Angel about cracked then. We got two today and he looks none too calm in there."

Fred nods and looks a bit worried. "It's true, Wes, he looks like he is a less soul-y version. He doesn't even look this angry when Spike annoys him."

Gunn snorts. "Yeah, there’s a idea. Get Blondie to do it. At least then if he kills him we don't have a murder charge, just dust."

Wes looks up, thoughtful. "Actually that's not a half-bad idea. At least we already know how much Spike annoys him and it's within a tolerable range. Besides, Spike himself told me he's bored. I asked him to this meeting so he should be here shortly."

As if on cue, Spike walks through the door and they all look at him. "Wha?" He asks. "Did I do something bloody wrong again?"

Wes shakes his head. "No, Spike. As a matter of fact, we wanted to ask you for a favor. Harmony has left for a few weeks for a training conference and, well....Angel is rather hard on temps. He's no good at adjusting to new people. Could you, perhaps, be prevailed upon to try the job?"

Spike looks temporarily offended. "Me? Peaches' secretary?" But then he slowly smiles. "Yeah. That'd be a rich joke, that. Alright. I'll do it. Starting in the morning, eh?"

Wes nods. "That would be perfect."

Gunn raises a brow at Spike "Spike, what’s up with the smile? Gotta say, a bit creeped out here. What Angel needs is a secretary and I'm thinking you’re just a bit too evil, and that grins means trouble."

Fred sighs at Gunn. "He wouldn't, Charles." Then she looks at Spike. "Would you, Spike?"

"Oh, no, Fred...I plan on being a good little boy." Spike grins even bigger. So good it will drive Peaches nuts. He's sure to think I'm up to something, he thought.

Fred smiles and hugs Spike, then pats Gunn’s arm "See, I told you Charles. You need to stop thinking the worst of Spike. He's so sweet." Then she leaves, going back to her work.

Lorne gets up. "I'm headed out myself. Got a gala party to attend."

Spike nods. "I'll go to the elevator with you." He looks over at Wes. "I'll be there bright and early for the secretary gig." And then the two of them leave the office.

Gunn looks at Wes, reaches into his pocket, and brings out a hundred dollar bill, flashing it back and forth. "A little wager, what do you say?"

"What's the wager, Gunn?" Wes asks. "I've been known to make an occasional gamble from time to time."

Gunn grins. "That boy is neither good or sweet. And that grin meant trouble will come tomorrow. I give it half the day before Angel either dusts Spike or something even we never imagined. Want to bite, English?"

Wes smiles a little half-smile and nods. "Very well. I'll take your wager. If Spike is still undead and untouched by noon you owe me a hundred."

"You got it. But I'm going to win. I know Angel," Gunn says then walks out.

The next morning Spike arrives. He is dressed in a dark blue pinstripe suit and a dark rose dress shirt with a matching tie. Instead of slicked back his hair is natural, a little loose with soft waves. He has his glasses on as he sets to work going over the morning schedule.

Angel slams things around on his desk, growling. "Told them. Didn't want...a stupid...god...damn temp. Hate...these stupid...little...idiots. I'm not a fucking...child." He throws a bunch of files across the office and whines, "Where’s my pencil?" He goes to press the intercom but his fingers halt when he realizes what he about did and the fact there’s a new intercom. He scowls at it and goes to get up but then he sits back down. If he walks out to get a pencil he will look weak, stupid, ‘poncy’ like Spike likes to call him. So he swallows and reaches over pressing and says softly "I need a pencil...and my blood please." Then he pulls his finger away fast, turning the volume down. He doesn't even want to hear the voice of his new temp evil.

A few moments later Spike comes striding into the office with a mug of blood and the pencil. " 'ere you go, boss. All fresh and nicely warmed. And the pencil sharpened for you." He sets both of them down in front of Angel.

Angel looks up about to bitch at Spike when his voice cuts off on a syllable. He just stares…and stares…and stares some more. He's sure he has either fallen asleep and this is some stress induced wet dream or this is hell because he staked himself with Mr. Number 2 when the temp they gave him was some valley blonde who not only blew bubbles with her gum but only understood picture drawings. And the hell they gave him this time was the 'Constant hard-on with no satisfaction hell' opposed to 'Pain and torture hell'.

Spike looks across the office. "Oh, my, those files need to be picked up and tidied." He walks over and bends over to pick them up, staying bent over quite a while as he gathers up the contents.

Angel whimpers loudly, not even able to control it, and he whispers, "Is this hell?"

Spike stands up with the files and turns around. "Why? Is there something wrong boss? Something you need, perhaps?"

Considering that was neither a yes nor a no, Angel feels like he is about to flounder, so he pinches himself and screams. "Ow! Fuck! Okay, dreaming is out." He picks up the phone next and dials, the sounds of Fred’s voice chirping can be heard on the other line. If there’s Fred then it's not hell. Angel speaks to her for a moment then hangs up, looking back to Spike, his face a whirl of emotions, the most prominent being complete and utter confusion. "Why are you here, dressed like this, in my office being a temp?"

"Wes asked me to. Said you needed a secretary and you were not liking any of the bloody temps they sent up. Figured a familiar face would 'elp. Is that a problem?"

Angel is about to say ‘hell yes—what, is Wes on crack?’ But then he thinks and it doesn't take much thought to figure this is the best thing to happen to him since the word temp ever graced his ears. He smiles at Spike "No…no it's fine." Oh yeah, his life just got so much simpler. Now, now, to just get past this whole suit, glasses, hair thing and he was set.

"Bloody brilliant. You've got a meeting in half an hour with the F'lhurg demons about a real estate deal, and Senator Bruckman at ten a.m. I'll go get started on the paperwork and get anything that needs your attention in here as quickly as I can sodding well manage."

Angel picks up his pencil and hums that he heard, starting to write his memos. Oh yeah...this was going to work. Being the boss was good.

A short while later Spike buzzes him on the intercom. "Got the bleedin' paperwork ready. Want me to bring it in?"

Angel pushes the button "Yes, go ahead." Then he releases the button, only to push it again. "Spike, this is a business. Your speech can't be the filthy gutter speak you love to employ. Fix it." Then he grins and goes back to writing, not even thinking the damage he just inflicted on himself.

Spike comes into the office. He speaks in a smooth honeyed voice with the upper-class accent of his mortal life. "Here's the paperwork for you, boss." He moves over, his body brushing against Angel as he sets the paperwork down.

And then Angel realizes, as his pencil breaks under the pressure of his hand, what he has just done. He pins his eyes to the paperwork and refuses to look up. The devil lives in the upward gaze and he likes the downward heaven-gazed paperwork, he really does. "Thank you, Spike."

"Oh, really, boss, if we're dispensing with the gutter speak you might as well call me Will. Spike doesn't really sound professional."

Angel bites into his tongue, the blood filling his mouth. This is bad. This is really bad. He nods’ frantically hoping it’s enough to get rid of Satan. Oh please, he cries in his head, please…Satan, go away.

To his relief Spike goes back out to his desk. The next time he hears from Spike is when he buzzes in the F'lhurg demons. Then Senator Bruckman. Around noon Wes and Gunn wander down, casually, strolling by Spike's desk.

Gunn curses under his breath and whispers in Wes' ear, "No fucking way man. Nuh-uh." He rushes into Angel’s office.

Angel looks up. "What’s up Gunn?"

Gunn looks as if he is about to lose all bearings and just shakes his head. "Not a thing, man. Good day?"

Angel nods. "Oh, yeah fine. Good meetings."

Gunn looks even more lost now. "And Spike. He's...working for you?"

Now to the relief of Gunn's sanity Angels face cracks a bit and he looks down and mutters. "Fine...he's fine."

Gunn grins a bit. "That’s good. Well, have a good day. See you when I see you." Then he walks back out and looks intensely satisfied. "Up the stakes Wes…two hundred, two more hours." And says no more, knowing Wes will get it.

After lunch Spike buzzes Angel. "Boss, Harmony left a notation that you needed some dictation done today. Should I come in now and take care of that? You don't have any meetings until three."

Angel swallows and dreads the ability to speak. He pushes the button slowly. "Sure. Now is as good as time as any." And then he leans back in his chair, closing his eyes, hoping this may ease his problem.

Of course it doesn't, not really, as he can smell the faint odor of jasmine that is Spike and hear his smooth cultured voice as he sits down. "Hey, boss. Having a rough day? I could give you a neck rub or something if you'd like."

Angel pushes his chair in closer to his desk, his senses going wild. He hopes it appears as a attempt to get comfortable and not like he is trying to hide anything, but then he remembers that Spike is a vampire, one that he made no less, and he just lowers further down in the chair muttering. "No, thank you, Will."

Oh, this is better than I could have hoped. The ponce is a walking hard-on whenever I walk in the room. Who knew he had such a bloody fetish for suits? Mmm. This is even more fun than just making him paranoid. Wonder if I might can get him to take it any further?

"So, boss, what dictation did you need taken?"

Angel sighs for a chance to get straight to work and starts talking. "Mr. Cornius, thank you for your offer to supply us with unicorn horn. We've had trouble finding suppliers. Could you send us some references so we can verify that your supplies are genuine? Sincerely, Angel, CEO of W&H, etc. etc. so on so forth."

Spike fingers fly across the keys, taking the dictation down smoothly and professionally, every bit as quick as Harmony. His face is intent and intelligent behind his glasses, devoid of his usual smug expression.

Angel opens an eye to peer at Spike. "Okay, I thought you were pulling my chain. Where did you learn that?"

Spike looks up and smiles. "Started when I was a ghostie. I'd hang out a bit with the secretaries and watch them work. I was bored out of my skull so I had them teach me stuff. I kept it up after I became all solid again. Got me lots of dates." He grins. "You don't think I would've been stupid enough to take this gig without the skills to back it up, do you? And let you laugh at me? No."

"Okay, I get that but why the suit...and the glasses? You could’ve not done those." Angel who even knows how stupid a response this is but can't help it. He's about to cave and ride on the blonde sex god train straight to hell.

"…professional setting, professional clothes. And I need the glasses to read. You don't like the suit? I can take it off." He smiles evilly.

Angel closes his eyes again and whispers, "No…no, you’re fine. Okay, next. Mrs. Garlbig, thank you for your interest in Wolfram and Hart's legal division's services for your new business. We would be happy to help you in anyway possible. Please call and schedule an appointment at your earliest convenience. Sincerely, Angel yadda, yadda, yadda."

Spike takes this one down with the same speed and smoothness. "Got it." He says. "Anything else?" He asks, his voice a silken caress.

Angel reaches down, adjusts, and groans when his hand lingers a bit too long. He snatches it away. "No…no that’s it, thanks. Only a few more hours to go, then I can drink my self into a nice safe slumber."

Spike smiles and nods. "Rough day? Just two more meetings. You have Darius at three p.m. and Jarek Dunsany at four p.m. Will you need me in here to take notes on either of them?"

Angel sits up fast and shakes his head. "No…no, you've done too much actually. Working so hard. Take the rest of the day off. I got it…I'm good…I swear."

Spike shakes his head. "Gotta type up this dictation and finish the rest of the paperwork, and be here to buzz in your appointments. But I appreciate the thought." He gets up and comes over to the desk to retrieve the signed paperwork, once again brushing against Angel.

Angel stands up fast as if burned and moves to the window, turning away from Spike. "Well, you know, the offer is there."

Spike moves up behind Angel and whispers in his ear. "Are you ‘sure’ I can't do anything else for you?"

Angel jumps about three feet straight up, then curses himself for doing it. He says as calmly as he can, "I'm…sure. Thank you."

Spike sighs and grins and leaves the office. He sits down and gets to work on the paperwork---humming again. Wes and Gunn wander down past the desk.

Wes looks over at Gunn. "Pay up."

Gunn curses and holds up a hand. He walks in, looks at Angel holding himself tightly, then he comes back out. "Okay, full on five hundred, one more hour."

Spike looks up and smiles beatifically at them both. "Betting on whether or not he's going to stake me?"

Gunn gives Spike an innocent look. "No, of course not man."

"Well, he's not going to. Except maybe with a big fleshy stake."

Gunn's mouth drops. He takes out the money and hands it to Wes. "I'm out. Spend it wisely." And he just walks away.

Wes takes the money and winks at Spike as he walks off, grinning.

Spike chuckles. He buzzes in Angel's next two appointments and when the last one leaves he buzzes Angel over the intercom. "I have another batch of paperwork for you to sign, boss. Can I come in?"

Angel voice, a bit scared, a bit frustrated, and a lot horny comes over softly on the line. "Sure, why not? What’s the worst that can happen?"

Spike comes in, minus the jacket. The soft silk shirt hugs every muscle. He moves over and sets down the paperwork, and the soft kiss of silk rubs against Angel.

Angel's fingers tighten around the paperwork and he mutters as he grabs his pen and starts signing. "I spoke too soon." He hurriedly signs every one then shoves them toward Spike, speaking fast. "Good day…yep good day. Thanks. Go home. Rest. See you tomorrow."

"Aww...C’mon, boss, aren't you going to invite me for a drink or anything? After I dressed up all nice and behaved so well all day?"

Angel knows this is a mistake...a huge gaping ass mistake. "Fine. I guess you could’ve given me loads of shit. Come on." He stands and quickly adjusts.

Pressing the button, the doors open. He holds open the doors, waiting for Spike to get in. Once he has, he presses the penthouse button and the elevator moves to the penthouse floor. The doors open and he heads straight to the liquor cabinet. "What do you want?"

"Jack if you've got it...whiskey if you don't," Spike says, sliding onto the couch, propping one leg up over the arm of the couch.

Angel pours two glasses, one of whiskey and one of JD handing it to Spike, then sits across from him on the chair sipping his whiskey slow. Giving his mouth something to do other than speak.

Spike downs his Jack. "That's bloody marvelous," he says and starts loosening his tie a bit. He looks over at Angel. "Why don't you get comfortable?"

Angel lifts the glass from his mouth to mutter "I'm comfortable thanks." Then he goes back to drinking, his eyes carefully watching Spike’s tie.

Spike notices where Angel's eyes are focused and he carefully and slowly begins loosening and tightening his tie, making little moaning noises when he tightens it. He is starting to become aroused at Angel watching him.

Angel chokes on a sip of whiskey and sits up. He taps his chest until he is calm then he stands up. "You know, I changed my mind. I'm feeling dirty. So I'm going to shower. You can show yourself out once you’re done with your drink." And Angel walks off, going into his room. He starts to throw off clothes, not thinking about suits, or glasses, or voices or ties...or the fact every time Spike said Boss his cock beat off his stomach and practically bruised him.

Spike grins. He waits until Angel gets into the shower and then goes into the bedroom. He strips off his clothes, leaving on only the tie and his glasses. He drapes himself attractively on the bed and slowly, ever so slowly, strokes himself so he will be nice and hard when Angel comes into a room filled with the odor of his arousal. He imagines Angel's naked body in the shower and looks forward to seeing it all wet and dripping when he comes out.

And a few minutes later a wet Angel walks out, wiping his face with his towel and freezing as soon as he smells Spike. He says warily, "When I take this towel away from my face, what am I going to see?"

"Oh...that's my little surprise for you. I must say, the sight of you naked and dripping in just a towel is every bit as bloody magnificent as I remember it. C'mon, Angel…take a peek. I worked hard getting this little scene ready for you."

When the word ‘hard’ passes Spike’s lips, Angel’s cock jumps again. He sighs and slowly moves the towel off his face and his cock rebels to the fullest extent, beating so hard off his stomach that Angel actually grunts. "I see you did."

Spike turns a bit so that his ass is now exposed to Angel's view. "Don't you want to work off some of that tension you've been building up all day? Isn't this more attractive than Mr. Hand?"

"Is this a trick question?" Angel asks as he tries to dig deep for the ability to resist this boy’s charms.

Spike strokes his slender, shapely, talented hands over his ass, spreading himself and moaning in reply.

"I'm so fucked." Angel breathes out. The towel slips from his fingers and he climbs on the bed as if he is a man possessed. He grabs Spike’s arms and pulls him into his lap where he splays his hands on his face, stroking in the grooves of his cheekbones. "Why are you so bad?"

Spike purrs and rubs against Angel. "Tired of waiting for you to get around to me again, boss. Sire." His voice drops low and liquid on the last word.

Angel’s cock jumps once again and Angel moans.

"Stop that."

But his hands slip to the tie around Spike’s neck, threading it through his fingers rubbing it along them---over and under in repeating patterns.

Spike whimpers a bit as Angel fingers the tie. "Go ahead. You know you want to."

"And what is it you think I want to do Will?" Angel asks, his eyes not leaving the tie.

"Oh, maybe use that like a leash and pull it tight while you ravish my tight little ass."

Angel wraps the tie around his hand and his eyes gleam. "You’re such a smart little boy, Will." And he pulls Spike to him, engulfing his lips in a passionate kiss.

Spike relaxes into the kiss, letting Angel plunder his mouth with his tongue. He runs his hands up and down Angel's torso, caressing over his chest and abs and occasionally brushing lightly across his massive cock.

Angel moans into Spike’s mouth. He pulls back and sets his forehead against Spike’s. "I feel like I've been transported back to 1880. The only difference is your hair, the length and color, but everything else is just as I remember-- your glasses, your face. It's driving me nuts."

Spike purrs even louder. "Good. Want you nuts about me. Been wanting you like mad ever since I became flesh again. Took me getting in a suit to get you to notice, but it's worth it."

At the mention of the suit Angel groans and pushes his cock upward against Spike’s hole, his hand tightening around the tie. He reaches over fumbling into his bedside drawer until he grabs the lube. Then he opens it one-handed, squirting a large amount all over his cock and on Spike’s stomach in his frantic attempt to get to the good bit. He pulls the tie upward, Spike going with it, then he looks into his eyes. "You ready? Because the lube is all you’re getting. I want you too much. Seeing you all day like you used to be in that fucking fitting suit---calling me boss and bending over, talking in your old voice, and making me fucking squirm for you---I need inside you now."

Spike moans. "Oh, fuck yeah I'm ready."

"Thank god, because I wasn't waiting," Angel says, and with that he pulls Spike down on his hard jutting cock, sinking inside him. He screams, his eyes rolling back. "Oh Hell! Yesss...!"

Spike moans deeply and keens as the huge cock sinks inside him, pleasantly impaling him on the long thickness. "Bloody hell! Damn, been wanting that for ages."

Angel fights for any semblance of control so he doesn't ram straight through and out of Spike’s body. Once he's sure he can, he pulls the tie so Spike’s mouth moves closer to his own, licking Spikes lower lip, and he starts to jack his hips in a curved angle, hitting Spike’s prostate on each thrust inward. "Oh fuck yeah...oh god yes. I've missed this so much. Being inside you, nothing like you, being in you, having you grip me so hard in your silken coolness. Making me feel like you never wanted anything so much."

Spike cries out and whimpers as his prostate is attacked. His body arches and twists as much as it can with Angel holding the tie so tightly. "I never did want anything so much as you inside me."

Angel groans and moves faster. "God, fuck Will...oh god."

Spike runs his hands all over Angel's body, touching all the skin he can reach, starving for the feel of his Sire. He wraps his legs around Angel's waist, hooking his ankles together and pulling down even harder onto Angel's cock.

Angel's hand loosens around the tie and he whispers, "Like a horsy, baby, you remember, do it for me."

Spike wraps his arms around Angel's neck and begins pulling and lowering down as quickly as he can, dropping hard on each downward motion. "Oh, fuck …damn…fuck…god damn…YES!"

Angel’s fingers flex on the tie but don't pull and his head arches back "Oh, fuck yesss...!!" He grips Spike’s cock in his fist and starts to stroke in time.

Spike moans and arches and writhes "Oh, bloody fuck…your hands…damn it! Fuck the hands…the fucking hands! Not gonna last long at this rate, mate."

Angel nods frantically "Me either. Oh, god…me either. Come with me…come with me now."

Spike and Angel both come at the same time---explo-sively---showers of bliss cascading through their bodies and brains. The bliss of release after so long being denied this touch they so craved. Spike slumps against Angel, kissing his neck as he slowly pulls himself together.

Angel falls back to the bed bringing Spike with him "Must lay down...brain functions gone...brain all gone...boy suck brain."

Spike chuckles. "Really? I can suck something else later if you'd like. I haven't forgotten how."

Angel whimpers. "Evil…you’re evil."

"Still just a little…yes. But I think you like it, really." Spike purrs and snuggles against Angel, licking his neck like he used to do so long ago.

"I will never admit either way," Angel murmurs as he stretches his neck for Spike.

"So....what now?" Spike asks at last after a while of licking Angel's neck and purring as loudly as he can. He is laying on Angel like a panther on a tree limb, all draped and relaxed.

"I seem to remember something about sucking," Angel says with a grin.

Spike grins and starts sliding his way down Angel's body, kissing and licking as he goes. When he reaches Angel's groin he licks and nibbles up and down each hipbone first, watching as his attentions make Angel harder and harder.

"Tease," Angel whispers, but he stays still and pliant letting Spike control this. Because if Spike has ever had power in sex it's in these moments. Angel would probably sell his soul an infinity times ten for Spike’s lips to touch his cock in any way.

Spike moves his mouth over and licks his lips wickedly as he looks into Angel's eyes, then lowers his mouth down to engulf the head, licking in circles, his soft lips tenderly and firmly wrapped around the thickness or Angel's massive cock.

"Oh, yeah...god that mouth...such a pretty, talented, and special mouth." Angel moans, his fingers threading in the blankets below him. He just knows by the end of this, these expensive blankets will be no more, but it's a small price to pay really when you think of the benefits of the talents about to be bestowed upon him.

Spike loves this---everything about it. The taste of Angel's cock, the smells, and the feel of it between his lips. The sounds that Angel makes and the look on his face. Everything about doing this is wonderful and sensual. He lowers his mouth---more and more of Angel's cock being taken into it---and sucks hard as he teases the underside with his talented tongue.

Angel cries out in ecstasy, looks up at the ceiling, and mouths, 'Oh thank you Lord, thank you, thank you.'

Spike begins to purr happily and then opens his throat and swallows, massaging Angel's cock with his throat before starting to bob up and down, still working his tongue in wicked patterns all around his cock.

Angel screams, his fingers tightening in the blankets. "FUCKKKK... I fucking love that wicked mouth, you naughty, wicked boy, my boy, mine, mine, mine."

Spike moves faster and purrs louder. He loves it when his Sire claims him like that. It has been entirely too long since he heard those words. His eyes lock with Angel's to let Angel know he heard and agreed as his mouth continues to work on him. His hands slide around Angel's hips and onto his ass, one finger sliding down and just circling around Angel's tight pucker.

Angel's eyes flare and he just stays steady. He wants to see if his boy will actually do it. He wants to see just how brave he is.

Spike hums and presses the finger lightly against the entrance and slowly pushes it in just up to the first knuckle while his thumb moves around to stroke the perineum

Angel can't help it he moans and chuckles at the same time. Then his head arches back when a particularly strong suck nearly undoes his head straight in with the rest of the sensations.

Spike pushes harder, sinking the finger in slowly into Angel's oh-so-tight ass. He lowers down and swallows and swallows again and again.

"SHITTT!" Angel screams as he comes, sending him straight off the edge. Then he drops back to the bed, panting needlessly.

Spike swallows every last drop that comes from Angel, savoring the salty taste that was so familiar and yet so new. He slowly pulls his finger out, hoping he will be forgiven for his bit of boldness but he simply could not resist. He raises his head finally and crawls back up Angel's body to kiss him. "Yours," he whispers against Angel's lips. "Just yours."

"Mine," Angel says as he grabs Spike’s hand and puts it back where it was deftly exploring just a few seconds ago, and presses the finger back, sinking it in, deciding to be brave and also equal-- after all it didn't feel bad. "Yours?"

"Mine?" Spike asks, his eyes widening, wanting to be sure if what he thought Angel was implying was what he actually meant.

Angel raises an eyebrow. "Yours. Did I stutter?" He grins and pushes the finger back and forth, his eyelids fluttering, and repeats, huskier, "Yours?"

Spike moans and his cock twitches hard. "Mine," he groans. "Oh fuck, mine." He pulls out the finger and lubes it and another finger and starts to push them both in, looking first to see Angel's reaction as the second finger starts pressing against him.

Angel's eyes dilate and he whispers, "Oh that’s fucking new."

Spike keeps pressing the two fingers in. "You want this? Really want this?" When they get in all the way he move the tips to brush against Angel's prostate.

Angel screams wordlessly and bucks so hard the fingers inside him almost get yanked out with that very new sensation that ripped through his body from brain to toe.

Spike works slowly now, twisting the fingers in and out of Angel, stretching him, every so often going back to hit the prostate. He can't believe that Angel is going to let him do this...hell, that he even wants him to do it. But he's not going to question his luck again.

Angel relaxes his body as much as possible and then he looks Spike in the eye "Don't baby this before I change my mind and that’s happening in five...four...three...."

Spike pulls out his fingers and lines up and starts pushing against Angel before he hits one. He chuckles. "Figures. Even when I'm bloody well fucking you, you're in charge."

Angel wants to say---And you expected what?---but all that comes out is "Andyouexpectwittelkevvveuuu…"

Spike presses hard, pushing past the ring of muscle. He's not as large as Angel but he is considerably sized, much more than one might expect on a man of his proportions. And Angel is, of course, virgin tight. So Spike is squeezed and held tight in silken bands as he pushes forward. He wants to stop to adjust but he knows Angel won't stand for it so he keeps pushing forward, groaning and purring. "Fuck! Oh, fuck… bloody buggering hell! You're tight Angel!"

Angel's fingers tear at the sheets and all he can push past his lips is a soft whisper of, "No one else… no one else."

Spike nods as he starts moving in and out, slowly. "No one else for me either. Not in all these years. I've kept it, waiting for you."

Angel arches, crying out, the words and feelings almost too much. "Oh, my god...oh, my god."

Spike starts thrusting harder and faster and his eyes glow yellow as he slowly shifts into gameface. He lowers his head to scrape his fangs lightly over Angel's chest and laps the drops of blood that well to the surface, glorying in the rich taste of sire's blood too long denied him.

Angel screams now. "SON of a BITCH! Oh, yes Will...oh, god baby."

Taking that for permission, Spike moves his fangs up to Angel's throat and sinks them slowly in as he thrusts in and out harder and faster. The luxurious blood hits his mouth and he wants to come right then from the sheer wonder of it but he holds on and keeps thrusting, wanting Angel's pleasure to be as full as he can make it.

Angel screams wordlessly again as he comes, the pleasure far eclipsing the last bout of pleasure that made him do this the first time around. And Angel, great Champion of the people---passes out cold.

Spike lets go then and comes hard, ever so reluctantly removing his fangs from his unconscious sire and licking the wounds closed. He reaches down and pulls the covers up over them. Then he slides out, groaning, and lies on top of Angel, resuming his lazy panther drape as he falls asleep, purring.

Night comes and goes to morning and when Spike wakes he finds Angel’s eyes on him just looking. Angel supposes if he could see his eyes they would never look so brown or chocolate-like. He smiles softly. "Hey you."

Spike yawns, stretches---catlike---and says sleepily, "Mornin' sire. Sleep well?"

"See that’s the thing. I don't remember falling asleep exactly-- more like losing consciousness," Angel says with a wry grin.

Spike edges forward and licks over the spot he bit the previous night. "Really? Mmmm…Bloke could get an ego from that sort o'thing."

"Yeah, mine is so huge right now. You’re right," Angel says then laughs.

Spike purrs and rubs a bit more as he chuckles, and then says, "I hate to be all long-term-plan guy and everything...but...was this a one-off or are we back on again?"

Angel sobers and looks into Spike’s eyes "I think I answered that last night, don't you, Will?"

Spike nods and lets out a breath he was holding. "Yes. Fucking great. 'Cause I don't know if I coulda bloody well stood going back to the way it was before. You want me to move in here?"

"Would you like to move in here?" Angel asks. He loves this's like holding out string for a kitty and seeing how fast you can get it to freak and lose fur.

"Awww…Angel you gonna make me beg for it? 'Cause I can beg real pretty for you if you'd like." Spike grins.

Angel grins so reminiscent of Angelus that it speaks volumes of how much this idea pleases him.

Spike kisses up Angel's neck and then looks directly into his eyes with his big crystal blue ones, up through long, long lashes. His expression is innocent and yearning. "Can I pretty…pretty…please move in here with you, sire? Please...? I want to be here for you so all my lovely little talents will be available for your pleasure."

Angel smiles wide and huge. "Okay, you talked me into it...go get your stuff." Then he kisses Spike tenderly and lays down on his stomach muttering. "Oh and you had me the first time you asked by the way."

Spike chuckles. "I figured. It'll only take me a little while to pack. I'll be back before work...assuming you still sodding want me as your office boy while Harmony is gone."

Angel yawns "If you want, you can—that’s up to you. But my temper could do without a temp fix right now. I'm happy. Well, not that happy...or maybe I am...oh god who cares, you get me."

Spike purrs. "One office boy coming right up. Wait til you see what suit I'm wearing today!" He shouts back as he heads for the elevator.

Angel grins to himself and starts to sing. "Silk suit, black tie…I don't need a reason why. They come runnin' just as fast as they can ‘cuz every girls crazy 'bout a sharp dressed man." He chuckles and whispers, "Or vampire."
Tags: fic, nc-17, spangel, stand alone
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