Leaving
A small update. For now, I'm continuing with the drabble/ficlet things. They seem to be working for me, being less stressful than chapters. Hopefully at some point, I'll feel up to something longer. In the meantime, here is a different kind of angst. They fight. Spike is...
Leaving
“So, how soon do you plan to leave?” Angel stared at Spike, who was sprawled in the chair opposite him, one leg over the leather arm like he owned the place.
Spike looked up from the game in his hand. “Sunset. That suit you?”
“Hey. I don’t give a damn when you go. Just the sooner the better is all.”
“That so?” A spark ignited behind the blue wall of Spike’s indifference. His leg dropped to the floor.
Angel lowered his head in a glower. “Yeah. That’s so.”
“Fine then. Get your wish, don’t you?”
“Fine. Lucky me.” Tapping his fingers on the desk, Angel tried to keep the depth of his anger hidden. “Let’s not make a big thing of this, Spike. It was your idea. You’ve been saying all along you wanted to go. And for once in your life, you’re right. It’s better for everybody. You and me? We get in each other’s way. Always have.” Angel paused, then gestured expansively. “Take any car you want.”
If looks could have staked, Angel knew he’d be blowing in the wind right now. With deliberation, Spike set the game aside and stood up, patting at his pockets, searching for his cigarettes. He didn’t speak until he’d polluted the air in Angel’s office to a level that suited him, pinning Angel while he did, with a hot blue gaze that dared him to protest.
“True enough. But I won’t be needin’ a car. I’ll get ‘round in Rome just fine without one. Or maybe I’ll nick myself one of those little Vespas. Bloody handy those are for zipping around, taking my girl for moonlight picnics and such.”
“Rome!” Angel waved his hands dramatically, pretending to cough, even though they both knew he only breathed on rare occasions-one of those being when he was so agitated he couldn’t control himself. “You can’t go to Rome.” He felt quite pleased that his voice failed to reveal his rising panic. It sounded level and thoroughly rational. “I told you before, you’re not wanted there. Stay. Away. From. Buffy. That should be easy enough for even you to understand.”
The muscle in Spike’s jaw ticked. “This your I-Am-The-Law speech? ‘Cause it’s bloody pitiful if it is. Like I care one way or another what you say. Do what I want, Angel, don’t I, and I’m thinkin’ there’s a nice fluffy bed waiting for me over there.” Spike blinked, then plunged on. “Once she finds out I’m back ‘mongst the corporeal, that is. She’ll be begging for it. Always did love the way I give co....”
The hand that closed over Spike’s lapels jerked him forward, so close to the suddenly looming Angel that their noses almost touched.
“You will not be giving Buffy anything of yours. Hear me? And definitely nothing that ends in the letters ‘ck’. Not dick or prick or cock. You’re staying right here in L.A. where I can keep an eye on you. Do you think I’m stupid, Spike?” Angel gave Spike a rough shake when he started to reply. “That was rhetorical, moron, so shut your big mouth. You keep it in your pants till I tell you you can take it out.” There was a strained silence in the room. Then Angel broke it with an evil chuckle. “Now take it out and get on your knees.”
“Thought you’d never ask, you sodding prat. Thought you were gonna let me leave.”
“I may be a prat, Spike, but I’m not a fool. Jesus, we haven’t had sex since you fucked me this morning on the living room rug. You know I can’t go that long without you. I’m dying here.” There was the rustle of clothing being shed, then velvet lips closed hungrily around the wet knob of Angel’s erect cock. The head of blonde curls tickling his tense belly began to move up and down languorously easing his stress. “Just because we had a little spat, you have to go all drama queen on me. You’re not leaving. Don’t you know that by now?”
Spike couldn’t talk with his mouth full, but he nodded vigorously, wickedly enjoying the way the big man’s knees almost buckled at the pleasure he was building with bobs and teasing licks of his tongue. He nuzzled his nose into Angel’s bush. A shaky hand began to stroke through his hair, clenching periodically at the building pressure.
Angel’s voice penetrated Spike’s euphoria, the feel of that big, salty cock rubbing the back of his throat was giving Spike a stiffy that was near to creaming his balls.
“Repeat after me,” he heard from above him. “You’re never, never leaving.”
When Spike, being the obedient bloke he was, tried to disengaged from his delicious activity to comply, Angel smacked him smartly on the back of the head, then yelped as Spike’s throat muscles responded by working fiercely over the length of his shaft.
“Not now, idiot. Keep doing what you're doing now. Later works." Angel spread his legs wider to keep from falling. "Much, much later works fine.”
Leaving
“So, how soon do you plan to leave?” Angel stared at Spike, who was sprawled in the chair opposite him, one leg over the leather arm like he owned the place.
Spike looked up from the game in his hand. “Sunset. That suit you?”
“Hey. I don’t give a damn when you go. Just the sooner the better is all.”
“That so?” A spark ignited behind the blue wall of Spike’s indifference. His leg dropped to the floor.
Angel lowered his head in a glower. “Yeah. That’s so.”
“Fine then. Get your wish, don’t you?”
“Fine. Lucky me.” Tapping his fingers on the desk, Angel tried to keep the depth of his anger hidden. “Let’s not make a big thing of this, Spike. It was your idea. You’ve been saying all along you wanted to go. And for once in your life, you’re right. It’s better for everybody. You and me? We get in each other’s way. Always have.” Angel paused, then gestured expansively. “Take any car you want.”
If looks could have staked, Angel knew he’d be blowing in the wind right now. With deliberation, Spike set the game aside and stood up, patting at his pockets, searching for his cigarettes. He didn’t speak until he’d polluted the air in Angel’s office to a level that suited him, pinning Angel while he did, with a hot blue gaze that dared him to protest.
“True enough. But I won’t be needin’ a car. I’ll get ‘round in Rome just fine without one. Or maybe I’ll nick myself one of those little Vespas. Bloody handy those are for zipping around, taking my girl for moonlight picnics and such.”
“Rome!” Angel waved his hands dramatically, pretending to cough, even though they both knew he only breathed on rare occasions-one of those being when he was so agitated he couldn’t control himself. “You can’t go to Rome.” He felt quite pleased that his voice failed to reveal his rising panic. It sounded level and thoroughly rational. “I told you before, you’re not wanted there. Stay. Away. From. Buffy. That should be easy enough for even you to understand.”
The muscle in Spike’s jaw ticked. “This your I-Am-The-Law speech? ‘Cause it’s bloody pitiful if it is. Like I care one way or another what you say. Do what I want, Angel, don’t I, and I’m thinkin’ there’s a nice fluffy bed waiting for me over there.” Spike blinked, then plunged on. “Once she finds out I’m back ‘mongst the corporeal, that is. She’ll be begging for it. Always did love the way I give co....”
The hand that closed over Spike’s lapels jerked him forward, so close to the suddenly looming Angel that their noses almost touched.
“You will not be giving Buffy anything of yours. Hear me? And definitely nothing that ends in the letters ‘ck’. Not dick or prick or cock. You’re staying right here in L.A. where I can keep an eye on you. Do you think I’m stupid, Spike?” Angel gave Spike a rough shake when he started to reply. “That was rhetorical, moron, so shut your big mouth. You keep it in your pants till I tell you you can take it out.” There was a strained silence in the room. Then Angel broke it with an evil chuckle. “Now take it out and get on your knees.”
“Thought you’d never ask, you sodding prat. Thought you were gonna let me leave.”
“I may be a prat, Spike, but I’m not a fool. Jesus, we haven’t had sex since you fucked me this morning on the living room rug. You know I can’t go that long without you. I’m dying here.” There was the rustle of clothing being shed, then velvet lips closed hungrily around the wet knob of Angel’s erect cock. The head of blonde curls tickling his tense belly began to move up and down languorously easing his stress. “Just because we had a little spat, you have to go all drama queen on me. You’re not leaving. Don’t you know that by now?”
Spike couldn’t talk with his mouth full, but he nodded vigorously, wickedly enjoying the way the big man’s knees almost buckled at the pleasure he was building with bobs and teasing licks of his tongue. He nuzzled his nose into Angel’s bush. A shaky hand began to stroke through his hair, clenching periodically at the building pressure.
Angel’s voice penetrated Spike’s euphoria, the feel of that big, salty cock rubbing the back of his throat was giving Spike a stiffy that was near to creaming his balls.
“Repeat after me,” he heard from above him. “You’re never, never leaving.”
When Spike, being the obedient bloke he was, tried to disengaged from his delicious activity to comply, Angel smacked him smartly on the back of the head, then yelped as Spike’s throat muscles responded by working fiercely over the length of his shaft.
“Not now, idiot. Keep doing what you're doing now. Later works." Angel spread his legs wider to keep from falling. "Much, much later works fine.”