The Vampires In Question
Angel stood next to Spike in the center of Buffy's swank Rome apartment, mouths equally agape as a tuxedoed Andrew shut the door on them and toodled on down the hall with a hot Italian slayer-babe on each arm.
Spike was the first to recover from his shock. "Well, that's certainly unusual. For Andrew, at any rate."
Angel scratched his head and turned to his vampire companion. "Uh, yeah, I thought he had a thing for you."
Spike shrugged, looking even more disturbed than Angel was at the moment. "I'm truly hurt. I guess everyone's moving on. Not fair in the least."
Angel stretched his arms; he felt like the Stay-Puffed Marshmallow Man in this ridiculous get-up. At least Spike still had his wardrobe pride intact. "Let's get the hell out of here."
The white head bobbed. "Agreed. Provided we stock the jet first with a crate of vamp-sized whiskey before take-off. I plan on getting half seas over before we're bloody half seas over."
"I'm with you," he said, yet neither of them made a move for the door.
Spike rolled his eyes and sighed. "Bugger, but we're a pathetic duo of berk-itude."
Together, they slumped back onto the couch.
"So, what?" Angel said, opening his arms to embrace the empty living room. "We just sit here on our asses half the night until she comes back home all glowing and happy from her hot night of…nnnghh! I'm so pissed. And what does she get afterwards but two dead guys sitting on her 'snuggle couch' begging for crumbs?"
Spike looked him over with pity. "You've got to shake off your bakery fetish with the girl. She's not made of choccy biccies, you know."
Angel felt his insufferable-Spike-toleration level rise another inch toward the limit. "And I suppose this is where you start telling me what she is made of? Mr. I-had-her-over-a-fire hydrant-four-times-and-you-didn't, marathon man?"
Spike looked nostalgic. "Come to think of, I think we did…"
"Shh…!" Angel hissed. "Someone's coming."
"Yeah, and it's sure not us."
"No, you idiot. Listen."
They craned their vamp earlobes for sounds. A bing of the elevator and a ring of laughter - hers. Followed by a voice they knew all too well.
Angel and Spike exchanged a quick look of Oh, fuck! and both ran for Dawn's room, diving over the far side of the bed.
"Ow! you bloody ponce, get your knee out of my ribs."
"Hush-up or I'll make you bleed, again."
Hand firmly clamped over Spike's mouth, Angel listened. The keycard flicked and the lock snapped. The door opened and the warm scent of Buffy entered the room, along with the scent of…nobody.
"See ya tomorrow?" she called out.
"Oui, mon cher. Kiss-kiss," said the voice of honey and ultimate loathsomeness, retreating into the bowels of the complex.
Buffy was humming in the next room, literally. Half out of tune and blissful, not giving a shit. Both Angel and the vampire pinned by his knee growled under their no-breath.
"Dawn?" she said, coming to the bedroom door. "That you? I thought you were staying over with Otta and those guys?"
Spike struggled under Angel's weight, but where the younger vampire had him beat on speed and agility, Angel had him on pure brute force. He knocked Spike across the nose with an elbow. Spike's eyes rolled back and shut - the duster-coated canker was down for the count. Angel stuffed him between the wall and box spring and stood up.
"Hey, Buffy. Just me."
Her eyes rounded out. "Angel! What the hell? What the hell are you doing here? What the hell are you wearing?"
"I, uh, was just in the neighborhood and…" he struggled over the bed, trying to shrug out of the macho racing-striped nightmare while scrambling to save what little face he had left. God, she looked great. All evening gowned and hair ringleted.
She came to him, stared into his eyes for a dumbfounded, somewhat pissed second, then grabbed his face and made with the hello-kissing. The kind without tongue. Damn.
She pressed against him a moment in a hug, then she was out of his arms, wrapping her own across her silk-draped cleavage. "Can't you bother to use a phone? I'd think with all the evil technology Wolfram and Hart have nowadays you'd at least have the…"
A thump stopped her. A thump and a "bloody hell" from somewhere behind the bed. Her face went into shock.
A blond head appeared with a runnel of red dripping from the English nose. "Oh, hullo, love."
"Spike? Oh my God!" She tore past Angel and leapt onto the bed, hauling the dazed and more confused-than-usual vampire up onto the bedspread where she promptly pounced on him. She turned his grinning-idiot head this way and that, feeling his shoulders, chest, and, well, lower parts for soundness. Ugh.
"Spike! How? When?" She turned to Angel, eyes flashing. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Not his fault, love. Wanted to tell you myself," Spike said, gleaming like he'd just discovered the theory of everything right under his hands which were moving down her bare back and over the curves of her ass where he squeezed. "Took some time to work up the nerve."
She slapped him, hard. Then she pulled him up by the sharp new leather lapels and kissed him - with tongue. Dammit.
Angel sighed and looked away, waiting out the grunts and slurpy noises. I don't care what he's done to help us; if he beds her tonight, I'll kill him. He moved to the door.
"Angel…God, Spike, mmm…stop. Wait!"
"Oh, what you gotta call him back for?" Spike grumbled. Then louder, "Just kick the door shut, peaches! I'll call you in the morning!"
"Spike, heel. Angel, don't leave!"
She was off Spike now and trotting after Angel's sorry self into the living room. She grabbed his hand. "Angel, just wait. I want to see both of you. It's been so long."
Angel could hear Spike's mumbled curse from the bedroom.
Angel tapped his upper lip. "You've got some blood here."
"Oh," she said, wiping her mouth, considering the red blotch on her finger a sec before licking it off. Ugh, noseblood of Spike.
"No, it's fine," he continued. "You and Spike just have a nice…visit. I've got a jet waiting for me and a girlfriend back in L.A., who I'm sure is worried sick about me and…"
"Yeah, why don't you trot along to the tarmac and fly back to dog-girl, mate," Spike said, strutting out of the bedroom, thumbs hooked into his belt. He licked his upper lip with relish, tasting himself and her all smeared together. "I'll catch a liner out of Naples…" he said, reaching around Buffy's waist and giving her a grind. "…in about a month or so. Good luck with the apocalypse."
That was it - Spike-tolerance limit reached. Angel bristled and made a lunge past Buffy for him. Spike vamped, roared, and in a blurred second both were on the floor, kicking and smacking each other about the head and fangs. That is, until Buffy grabbed them both up by the hair.
"Ow! Hey! Watch the coiff!"
"Enough, you two. This isn't going to degrade into mountain-goat lumpy-bashing in my living room."
"Best you break out that oil, love," Spike said, squirming, trying to get another kick at Angel's groin region through Buffy's legs. "I feel up for a spot of wrestling."
"No!" she shouted, pulling his blond head up so they were nose to nose. "There'll be no…grabbing and throwing of each other…definitely not with lube; it stains…and certainly not anywhere near my Sorano glass coffee table." She looked regretful for a moment, then let their heads go. "Besides, I'm seeing someone."
Spike looked like his whole world had just been ripped out from under him. "But…Buffy..."
"But Buffy, nothing. Look at the two of you! I mean, really. Impress girls much with this Curly and Shemp routine?"
"We…uh…no." Angel answered stupidly, shifting shamefully back to human-face. "Wait…am I Shemp?"
Spike followed suit, yellow eyes cooling into a watery blue. "You're seeing him?"
"Yes. And I like him and I'm happy. Big grip - get one, both of you. Now let's just sit down, chill out and have some gelato and nice-talk like evolved people."
Angel sat on the couch, staring down at his melty bowl of untouched hazelnut chocolate gelato. Had Buffy been with Spike for so long she forgot the rest of the vampire population shunned human food? Including chocolate food? Spike sat next to him pitifully licking at half-hearted spoonfuls of rum-raisin between sniffles.
"Don't reckon there's any real rum in this," Spike gurbled, narrowly holding back a sob. Buffy sat across from them in a squishy deco chair, watching Spike like her heart was going to break, if Angel's didn't first. God, the guy could pour on the misery.
"Spike, honey, I'm sorry. But I've moved on. You were kind of making with the dust and I needed to get a life outside of late-night cemetery stakeouts."
"But the Immortal, Buffy?" Angel questioned. "That guy is nothing but trouble."
"Yeah," Spike chimed in. "We know 'im, from experience. Bad bloody news, that pillock."
She shook her head and made goop out of her remaining gelato. "Look guys, he's not that bad. I'm not star-eyed prom-girl Buffy anymore. I know he gets around. But right now he's around me and I'm just fine with that."
Spike lipped his spoon clean and dropped it back in the empty bowl with a rattling clink. He looked like he was either going to puke or crumble to dust of his own volition.
Angel leaned forward, figuring little help was coming from the shade of a vampire left next to him. "Yeah, but you're just going out, right? I mean, you haven't…you snuggle…right?"
"He hasn't, I mean you wouldn't…" Spike whimpered.
"Yes, he has. We have. Several times. It's what two people do. It's okay. We use protection."
Angel punched a pillow while Spike took to sobbing earnestly into his palms. "Son of a bitch. We should have gutted him clean decades ago - you and I, Spike."
Buffy groaned and picked up their bowls, taking off back into the kitchen.
Spike was shaking so hard, Angel couldn't help but pat his miserable leather back. "Now you know how I felt when I heard about you."
The lovesick vampire lifted his tear-streamed face. "Oh yeah, but you'd taken off, you wanker. She was mine, good and fair. It's not like you'd been saving yourself for nearly two years for her, just to find out…"
"Saving yourself? Hah! The second you got your bone back you were chasing Harmony across both floors of the office!"
"That doesn't count!"
"Oh, it doesn't?"
"No! It's doesn't count as a shag if you get bit in the neck before the big…"
"Harmony again?" Buffy asked, returning, looking amused. Spike groaned and dropped his head, crunching his hair up in his fingers. He coughed, snuffled and shook his head. "It's not what you think."
"Spike's not as pure as the driven hair-dye as he'd like you to believe."
"Shut-up, y'egit," Spike mumbled from behind his hands. "I wish I was dead."
Buffy dropped to her knees in front of Spike, with a 'be nice!' glare at Angel, and held the weeping vampire's head to her scooped neckline. Spike's arms went around her and she made a 'getting slightly crushed here' face. She coddled and cooed over him while he blubbered, stroking his demolished hair until he quieted into a long moaning string of "Buffy, oh, Buuuuffffyy."
Buffy looked over Spike's burrowing white head at Angel. "Do you really have a girlfriend?"
"Uh, yeah, sorta," Angel said. So odd having a 'new flame' chat with your ex while her more recent ex and more-recently-your-sort-of-employee is sobbing his eternal love into her chest. "We go out, you know. It's nice. Not too serious."
"That's good. Really good," she said with a genuine smile while making a grab at her dress to keep it from being pulled right down off her boobs by Spike's wallowing. "So, she's a dog, Spike said?"
"And she knows you're a…"
"Oh, yeah, I told her right away, about the blood-drinking stuff. But I was a puppet when we first started dating."
"A wha…?" Spike's mewling and pawing at her hair popped her French twist into a cascade of silky gold. She gently untangled his fingers from her. "Sweetie, you need to get ahold of yourself."
Sweetie? She never called me that.
Spike gave a huge sigh and loosened his death-grip. "It's jus' I love you so much, baby. I can't let you go."
She looked sad and puzzled and held his face, tracing his tear-marks with her thumbs. "Who says you have to?"
"Huh?" both vampires asked in unison.
She heaved Spike back up on the couch with a knee pat, then paused to toss her hair back over her shoulders. "Listen up, vampires. I love you both, virtually equally if that's possible."
"Virtually?" Angel repeated, needling for a clearer definition. "Who's got the lead? I thought you were supposed to be my cookie dough."
She sighed, "Correction, equally, forget the virtual-part. And I'm enough warm cookie dough for the both of you. I've just had more sex with Spike and less time to get over him. But I am over him, at least in the needing-to-have-exclusively sense."
Spike blinked. "Exclusively?"
"Look, confession time. You both still get me hot. You're both dangerously handsome as all get-out and over the top with the love-you-foreverness. It goes right to a girl's head. So here's the deal. You're both here; you both want me - I say we make like the Romans do and just get it all out of our systems for once instead of limping away all torch-bearing and angst-hearted about it, or in Spike's case, all slobbery weepy."
Angel held up a finger. "Hang on, Buffy. You're not suggesting…"
Spike looked like his head was about to crunch under the weight of thinking this one through. "You mean…take turns?"
"No. Because the two of you would fight over even that. I want no fighting. Fucking, yes; fighting, no. Wrestling…? I could be convinced."
"And the Immortal…?" Angel asked, trying to keep the last bit of realization of what she was proposing from quite kicking in.
"Oh, he'll want to hear all about it!" she beamed.
Spike shrugged. "I'm in."
Angel stood up and ran a hand through his hair. "Uh, I don't know about this…I…"
"Fine," Spike said, completely over his crying jag at the promise of slayer snatch, whether his boss and grandsire would be playing tag-team or not. "You snooze, you lose." He took Buffy's hand, tugging her closer. "Come on, baby, let's let this tosser push off back to dog-face. I'm vamp enough for the both of us."
"Oh, no!" Buffy said, standing and wriggling out of Spike's greedy grip. "That's not the deal. I get back in bed with you, Spike, and it's gonna be all out-of-control with the destructive possession again. I don't want that. I'm not that girl anymore. This is about having an open mind and a free spirit. It's the both of you, together, or arrivederci amici."
"It's just, I'm kinda tired," Angel stalled. "…and the jet lag and…"
Spike got up off the couch and headed him off, nose to nose. "Oh, get over yourself. You know you want to, with her at least. Poof. Jet lag my arse, you're afraid I'll show you up!"
"I am not!" he barked. Why did Spike always have to argue so close? "It's just…the uh, Angelus factor, let's not forget? I do have a world to save next week. Don't have time to be evil."
Spike threw back his infuriating head and laughed - that ear-splitting machine gun laugh that all the women in the office swooned over for some aggravating reason. "A moment of perfect happiness? With me in the mix? Believe me, I'll bring you right back to your soul-having senses the second I see you go all doe-eyed." He stepped closer to whisper in his ear. "Besides, not like we never tried to talk the girls into this, back in the day."
Angel dipped to meet Spike's ear. "That was different. This is Buffy."
"You guys keep whispering like that and I don't think either of you will need me in the mix at all." He and Spike stepped apart.
Spike clapped his hands together. "Well, if that's all settled. Let's have a go, then."
Angel rolled his eyes futilely heavenward for strength as he followed the two of them, bouncing hand in hand, into Buffy's bedroom. Why did I ever come to Italy?
It took Spike about seven seconds to get in her room, remove his coat and shirt, undo half his fly buttons and press Buffy up against the bedpost where he was feeling her up with both hands through her dress and taking in gargantuan pushed-up mouthfuls of Buffy bosom. As sloppy as he was, she was loving it, fingers dragging down his back and her head all tossed back. And there was a lot of moaning. Disgusting. Except some of the moans were kind of nice, when they came from her.
"Mmm, Spike… slow, like I said, remember?"
He nibbled her ear while working a nipple. "Yeah, I'll try to remember." He shoved his groin into hers. "God, I want to fuck you so bad."
She held out a hand. "Angel, we're waiting."
Angel drummed his fingers against the door jamb. "Waiting for what, exactly? Looks like you're occupied."
Spike flashed him a scowl. "Oh, come off it, you prude. Get your wankipants over here. The girl's waiting."
"Wanky-what? Buffy, can he not call me names while we do this?"
"Spike, play nice or no nipple."
Spike dropped his pinchy hand like a whipped poodle. Amusing to see. "Yes momma, baby'll behave." Okay, not so amusing. Angel really didn't need to know about their role-playing sex games.
Buffy pushed past 'baby' and came to take Angel's hand. She smiled warmly up at him, touching his face and it was hard not to feel that old lump clumping up in his chest - even if Spike was leering and prancing in the backdrop.
"Would you undo my dress, Angel?" she asked sweetly and Angel felt like a king being granted this small favor.
"Sure," he said and followed the silk neckline up her chest with his fingertips, past her clavicle and around the back of her neck to the clasp. It was a steady, unhurried touch that made her lids droop in bliss and her skin prickle in anticipation. Try the slow moves, jerk-wad; ladies like a little finesse.
The clasp gave and Buffy's gown flowed like buttercream to the floor. Yowza. Buffy. Naked. Mmm. Good. Her breasts were all round and pink-tipped, her eyes all huge and bluish, or was it greenish? Why can't I remember what color her eyes are? I rained mayhem and terror over a whole town for two months over this girl, and I can't remember if they're… Hazel! That's it. Okay, back to naked Buffy. Regardless of color, those orbs were speaking to him of love, desire, wantonness and a half-dozen other beautiful wonderful things and all Angel wanted to do was to grab her up in his arms and kiss her and…what the hell was that noise?
Snuuuufle, sniff, sniff, snooot, snick, snort, snuf, sniiffffff.
Spike, butt-ass naked and on his knees, was sniffing his way around Buffy's bare hip, pale hands stroking her thighs like they were Thanksgiving turkey legs. He linebackered his way past Angel's knees to plant his schnozzle right smack in the perfect tuft of her bush. Snort!
"Oh, love…best let me qwimle you 'fore I pop," he said, nuzzling her fur-lined lips while smacking his own with an over-eager tongue.
Angel blinked and took a step back.
Buffy's hands dropped to affectionately tousle Spike's spikey 'do like he was a Bichon Frise. "You know I like it lying down, sweetie."
"Grrrrrr," Buffy's vampire lap dog replied, scooping her up under her behind and hoisting her toward the bed.
"Get undressed," Buffy mouthed to Angel as she was hauled away.
Angel looked down at himself. He hadn't managed to undo a single button yet and his two boudoir-mates were already stripped and sliding into third base. Shit, and he still hadn't had any tongue yet!
Angel took his time getting to the opposite side of the wide canopied four-poster. He fumbled through his shirt buttons while Spike made gooey yummy slurpy noises between Buffy's thighs. Unfair, Captain Peroxide got to drink from everything first nowadays: chalices, morning blood mugs, that crappy punch at the Halloween party. Spike seemed to enjoy that blue steaming swill of Lorne's nearly as much as his current snack. They weren't under a damn spell here; he could at least be decent enough to be quiet about itAngel'd heard floor polishers make less racket. Worse yet, Buffy was proving to be nearly as bad. Oh, God… oooh, Spike, hmmmm, more, oh more, use your fingers…yess…OH, GOD…nnnngh. ANGEL!
Spike lifted his shimmery mouth. "Uh, love, s'not Angel down here."
"Did I tell you to stop? I'm trying to get Angel's attention. He's being coy."
Spike gave him a derisive glance as he slid up her naked skin to drop kisses down her throat. "Grandsire was always a bit cold-footed." Smooch, smooch. "He'll catch on…meanwhile, don't see any reason to let your nice wet pussy go to waste. Open up, baby, Spike's got a big surprise for you."
"Oooooh….!" She would have said more on the subject, Angel felt, if it weren't for Spike's tongue putting the plunger to her right along with his dick. Did they call that kissing? It looked more like an exorcism. Spike's eyes flickered open, on Angel, just long enough to make sure he had an audience for his bump and grind act.
Christ on a cracker. He's showing off. Worse, he's doing it to impress me. Why did I let them talk me into this?
Pissed into action, Angel turned his back to them long enough to get his pants and drawers down and off. He pulled back the sheets, kicked off his shoes and slid in. The whole damn bed was moving. Angel looked over with one eye, Spike's porcelain backside was making good on the rolling thrusts, while Buffy's head was buried somewhere in the moaning pillows.
"Ahhh…yeah, take me all in. Oh, Christ Buffy, that's nice. Squeeze me, baby. Squeeze that sweet cunt. You know you want it. That's my girl, my harlot, my nasty, nasty bitch."
Crap, this is just like that dream where I'm lying in bed and Spike's doing Buffy the next pillow over, except…except nothing! This is that fucking dream! Shit, how'd I get here? Better yet, can I wake up?
Angel slapped himself. All movement stopped on the mattress next to him. Both slayer and idiot vampire were looking at him, dumbfounded.
"If you fancy a slap and tickle in the literal sense, you might want to ask the girl to do it."
"Oompf, Spike. Off a second," Buffy said, squirming. Spike looked down at her and his lower lip stuck out, making that damned boo-boo face he liked to pull during board meetings. "You're hogging me and leaving Angel out. That's not fair."
She pushed Spike off and crawled over to him, all smiley and playful. "I want Angel breath."
Spike snorted and threw himself over on his back, Little Willy bobbing homeless in the air. "That's just grand. Where's my smokes?"
She paused from her introductory belly stoking of Angel to twist a look at Spike. "No affumicare in bed, you dope. You'll get your turn."
"I thought I was…"
"No one's getting ahead of anyone else. Deal."
Angel wasn't certain what he was enjoying more, the fingertip caresses of Buffy or the tongue-lashing of porn-talking Spike. God, does she really go for that?
"Hey, Buffy," Angel said, feeling a warm grin break across his face.
"Hey, lover," she said, sliding a leg over to sprawl on him, her breasts smushed into his chest. Her warm moist cleft slid over his half-involved cock, bringing it right to attention. "That's better," she sighed, wriggling on him.
"Grandpa needing some coaxing?" Spike asked, lifting the sheet a little.
"Spike," she said with infinite patience only a post-lover of Spike could possess. "Why don't you make yourself useful and come bring that nice hard body of yours up behind me and make like a vampire sandwich while I kiss Angel."
"Yeah, all right. As long as you don't ask me to tug his willy. He's got to go about that himself."
Angel kept his eyes all on Buffy as she dipped her head to make good on that promise of kisses. Warm sweet lips took his and it only took a second to shift from, ick, Spike-lip-residue, to mmmm Buffymouth. God, how he missed kissing her, nice slow wet kisses. Lots of tongue, yes lots! Tongue! Oh! So goood.
Kissing and reaching up to stroke warm naked Buffyskin was all Angel could care about in the world right now. Years had passed between them, hell, a bizarre marching band of lovers had passed between them blaring Louie-Louie, but somehow it still felt like the first time, innocent and sweet and perfect - kissing, Buffy, oooh, yes…."Ow!"
"Yeah, baby…that's what I like. Hot cherry pie. Mmmm, love, so tasty, dunno if I should eat you or fuck you."
Spike had found a way to maneuver himself right back into homeplate, knocking Buffy's nose into Angel's - his ramming and yammering doing equal work to banish Angel's stroll down fond-sex-memory-lane.
"Spike!" Angel snapped. "A little less commentary, please."
Blue eyes sparked from over Buffy's shoulder. "We'll see how tight-lipped you are once you get your prick in her, nimrod. If you can manage it."
Buffy jerked her ass and made Spike yip. "Just for that, it's Angel's turn," she said, moving forward, disengaging Spike and coming right down on him instead, hard flesh entering wet giving folds. Angel shut his eyes and thrust upwards. Damn, she felt good. Did she feel this good before? Oops, don't let it feel too good - maybe the Spike four-letter soundtrack had its advantages.
"Great, so I'm out again, is it? Bloody irritating."
Buffy worked herself on Angel for a while in a nice gliding rhythm, her arms all up over her head, shaking out her hair, breasts bobbing and peaked. Angel made a grab for them. Squeeze, squeeze.
"Oooh, yesss," she moaned. "Do that again."
"Do wha…?" Angel asked, just noticing that Spike hadn't bitched in the last 20 seconds which probably meant he was doing something low on the bed out of his line of sight. "Which one of us?"
She dropped her head forward, dragging her tresses across his chest. "Both of you. It's so nice when you play together." Slurpy noises could be heard now coming from somewhere beneath her ass. Spike's weight shifted and a cool arm grazed his leg. Ugh. Nevermind the irritating vampire. Stay focused!
Angel grabbed Buffy's ass and made with more of a grinding motion. She made little breathy pants to that. Must be working out well. Keep it going - slow and steady wins the…"Aaaagh!" Angel flipped them both off and scrambled back, gripping the headboard in horror.
"What!" she shouted, all dazed and flushed. "Angel?"
Spike was rubbing his jaw. "Nice tonk to the chops, mate. What's your damage?"
Angel pointed an accusing finger at the other vampire. "He…licked me."
Buffy raised a curious brow at Spike.
Spike laid a hand on his own chest. "I most certainly did not!"
"There was tongue on my dick," Angel snarled. "And it sure as hell wasn't hers!"
Spike dismissed him with an eyeroll. "Oh, that…well, I slipped."
"You slipped?" Angel snapped. "How do you slip when you're lying down?"
Buffy looked from one of them to the other and began to snort giggles.
"I was diving for clam, ya git, not shrimp! It got confusing!"
"Well, I suggest you consult a textbook, because this," Angel said, pointing to his rod. "Is not a clam!"
Spike cocked his head at him and pursed his mouth. "You never did spend much time in Istanbul, did you?"
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"They'd toss you right out of the bathhouse, mate. Much too stiff for the orgy scene, I'm afraid. It's a group-grope. Accidents happen - get over it."
"You were into the Turkish bath scene?" Buffy asked Spike, admiringly.
"Yeah, late '30s," he said passively. "Was all the rage. Not that Grandpoof here would ever remember it!"
"Hey! I happen to remember the Gay Nineties perfectly well!"
"Oh, was that before you got all soul-sappy or after? 'cause I don't recollect you throwing down coppers at the burlesque!"
"Ookay, I'm going to go make popcorn so I can sit back and watch the rest of this History Channel cock-fight with snacks," Buffy said, making to leave.
"No!" Both vampires protested.
Angel backpedaled. "I'm sorry, Buffy. It's just - Spike, he bugs me."
Spike leaned forward over Angel's knees, tauntingly. "Well, you wouldn't be gettin' any at all if it weren't for me, now would you? Too risky. But if you don't stop whinging soon and get on with it, I'm taking my rocks to the titty bars and you can go bang one out in the loo. I'm here to shag. Piss and moan on your own time."
Angel didn't have a comeback for that - at least nothing he'd want to say in front of a lady. Spike was a real piece of work. What the hell did Buffy ever see in him? Aside from the washboard abs and roguish ambiguously sinister demeanor, that is.
"Are ya done?" the only thing the two vampires ever agreed on, asked. "Can we get on with the sex-having now?"
Angel sighed. "I guess so. It was enjoyable there for a while!"
Spike growled low in his throat, but for once kept his trap shut. He was backing down. His hard-on must have thrown his equally enormous ego out of the masked Mexican wrestling ring that comprised Spike's brain control room. Olé.
Buffy was lounging near the end of the bed, tapping her lip and making a "Hmmm" sound. "How to do this..."
Spike sat back on his ass, crosslegged, dick twitching impatiently. "What you got in mind, pet?"
"I'm thinking. We need to come up with a plan of attack here that will minimize the complaining and optimize the orgasms."
Spike smirked at Angel. "I know my origami of choice. But then, I've had some practice."
Angel sighed, even more heavily. Worse, his tent pole was beginning to lean. Not good, any second Spike would come up with some indecipherable British idiom for his impending condition that would have him fanging for Spike's throat.
Buffy was quicker, and thankfully more tactful. "I think we need to reset the mood. I know! Angel, Spike, both of you back against the headboard."
"Will there be handcuffs or spanking involved?" Spike asked, hopeful.
"Only if you don't get moving, mister," she said.
Spike grinned and crawled up to the high end of the bed, flipping on his back and sprawling into the many pillows. "How's this?"
"Fabulous. Angel, move over next to him."
"You heard me. Get close."
Angel made a face. "I'm not getting any closer to him than absolutely necessary. He licks."
Spike waggled his tongue at him. "Come and get it, precious."
Angel let his lumps push out and shoved over, brandishing a sharp row of fangs. "Gimmie some tongue, asshole."
Spike's fangs descended and his eyes yellowed. He licked his incisors seductively. "How about we neck, first?"
"Fine with me," Angel growled and dove in for a head-slam. Bonk! - Onk..onk..Was Spike's cranium entirely hollow?
Spike shook the stars out and lunged right back to press his browridges up against Angel's, throwing in his weight, snarling for blood. Angel made a grab for the first object his fist could reach and brought it down over Spike's head. Pillow, unfortunately. Pop!
"Hey! Hey!" Buffy squealed as the feathers flew. "That's hand-picked Tuscan down!"
Angel and Spike stopped, fangs bared, fists clenched to pummel, while tufts of tiny white feathers floated onto their noses and hair. Worse, Angel found himself pressed against a very naked and very aroused Spike. Ugh, without end.
"Well, that got my groove back," Buffy said, appraisingly. "How about you guys?"
Angel pushed away from Spike and sat back against the headboard with his arms crossed - close, but not quite touching, the other vampire. "I'm good to go," he said nonchalantly, conveniently ignoring the fact the statement was rigidly true.
"Yeah, I'm set to bunk up."
"Good, because both your lickability ratings just went sky-high on the Buffy Lay-of-the-Century score sheet."
Spike looked confused. "Is that a good thing because I heard…ooooh! I guess so." Buffy had slithered forward and was drawing her pink tongue up the inside of one of Spike's sprawled thighs - much to Angel's inexplicable inability to look away. She didn't quit the wet trailblazing until she conquered the curly jungle brush and stirred up a very stiff and startled ratsnake. "Oh, God," Spike gulped as he was summarily swallowed alive - hot pink lips poured over cool upright flesh, with a swirling tongue chaser to boot.
Angel made a little squeaky sound way back in his throat. Am I next? he wondered as he watched Buffy move savoringly over his antagonist's plumbing. Please somebody tell me I'm next. I'm just as fangy and probably just as flavorful. Wasn't a lot of variety to be had among vampires - all dead more or less. Though Angel'd been told once he had a banana-y scent. Spike's animated corpse came off more like a steamed latte. Don't think about creative Spike-flavors, think about how good that's going to feel. No sooner thought than received, Buffy popped Spike out of her mouth with a wet smack and made a little shuffle and shift to invite Angel's pistol to the party.
"Guugh," Angel said eloquently as his vamp eyes rolled right back into his head. Slayer lips and tongue - a modern marvel of hot nurturing wetness. Man, how he wished that curse hadn't kicked in so fast. Would a day have been too much to ask? Just enough to give her some pointers? Not that she needed them now - Jesus, Mary and Joseph.
Spike snickered. "Boy, do you look ridiculous. Some big bad CEO vampire you are, mate. I guess our kind can be thralled after all. Better not let on to the clients - they'll be queuing up outside your office door on their knees."
Angel opened his eyes, wishing to all gods he had a stake handy. "Spike, do you mind!"
"Yeah, I do mind," Spike said around a mouthful of fangs. "Especially when I gotta lie here and watch the girl who's given me the best sodding nights of my life Linda Lovelacing your plonker."
Buffy lifted her head, exasperated. "Will nothing shut the two of you up?"
"Not with vomit-mouth in the house," Angel grumbled.
"Sorry, love, not likely. Just not in our blood."
"Then, I'll make you shut-up," she said, and grabbed them both by the ass and rolled them chest to chest. Wham!
"Hang about, you saucy wench. What're you driving at?" Spike asked, trying every effort to keep his arms off of Angel who was likewise wheeling like a capsized turtle.
"I'm taking the damn wheel," she said, holding them together by the stick-shifts in a firm fist. "Things are going to be a little crowded, so get comfy."
"Oh, bloody hell," Spike mumbled, grabbing the headboard and shifting back into a comically disturbed, yet fascinated, human-face. Angel grabbed the back if his own head and likewise sucked up his fangs in oddly aroused horror at the sight of the both of them being treated to an extra-wide helping of Buffy oral action. This wasn't going to be pretty.
"Mmmm, you taste good together," she said between introductory licks, kisses and strokings. "…kind of like a banana latte." She went to town on them and both vampires stiffened and trembled with the effort to keep from touching any more dead skin to skin than what was already being squeezed and rubbed together like the contents of an In-N-Out superbun on two-for-one frankfurter Friday.
"Oh, heavens, you two. Relax, you're not going to burn up," she said between mouthfuls. "At least…I don't think so."
"Easy enough for you to say, love. You don't have to work with the bastard come Monday."
"If you tell anyone at the office about this, Spike, I'll make an ashtray out of your head."
"Hush, now," Buffy cooed. "Or I'll make you both kiss and make-up."
Don't think, don't breathe, don't look down, don't notice the irritating vampire's… proximity. Think of baseball. I don't watch baseball. Hockey, hockey will do. It's cold and guys beat each other up a lot and…Dammit, he's longer than me. How's that possible? I'm almost a full head taller! But I've got him on girth, a little, uh, wait, yes! I do! Okay, small victory there, can stop looking down any time now. Quick, before motormouth makes a comment and ruins the…
Spike wasn't looking down. He wasn't looking at Angel, either. In fact, he looked like he might just be going blind. Uh-oh.
"Spike, if you come on me, I swear to God, you'll wake up on fire."
"No worries," Spike said through terrified rapture-blurred eyes and weak panty un-breaths. "I'll stake myself for you." He gripped the headboard like flotsam from the Titanic and looked down, beseechingly. "Buffy…now there's a sweet girl. Let up a bit on the de-chroming, love. A bloke can only take so much… Oh, that's not good… no…God…please…hell…bleeding fuck!"
Angel braced for the eruption but found himself released from custody. Buffy'd gotten the memo and was taking Spike's hose down in big slurpy gulps. The receiving vampire twitched, groaned, shuddered and collapsed dead. Hallelujah.
Buffy licked her lips and sat up, grinning victoriously. "One down."
Angel nudged the corpse next to him. "Is he done?"
Buffy leaned over Spike's inert form to take a swig of water she kept by the bedside. "I really wouldn't count on it. He'll come to shortly." She paused to poke at him. "Aww, his penis is so cute when it's squishy."
"How much time do we have?"
Buffy shrugged. "Before the Spike rebound? I'd say about 90 seconds."
"That works for me," Angel said and swung her over to his side of the bed, vampire on top.
"Careful now," she said, teasingly as she opened to him. "I don't want to have to dust you."
Angel parted her pink lotus and slid in with a big smile. "Don't worry, I just had to watch Spike's 'come face' from three inches away. I won't be capable of feeling truly happy for at least a month."
Buffy smiled - bright white Buffy-smile. So pretty. "You have to admit, he does come in handy, from time to time."
"Do me a favor, Buffy," Angel said, moving in her gloriously hot depths. "Let's pretend Spike is still crater dust for the next 80 seconds."
"Will…ah! Yes…do that."
70 seconds later…
10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1…1 1/2…1 3/4…
"Mitts off…I'm fresh out of yellow tabbies…eh, huh? Where in bloody hell…? Hey! No fair moving on without me!"
"Welcome back, Spike. We sure missed you," Angel said through each deliriously delicious thrust. He'd been measuring his efforts, believe it or not. Not smart to go for the big finish without backup. Buffy was all laid out beneath him, hair fanned out, arms limp up over her head, scrumptious.
Spike looked worried for a second. "Did he bring you off, sweet? I didn't miss that, did I?"
"No, pumpkin," she said, reaching out to him. "I've been waiting for you. No 'I' in team, remember?"
Spike drew her hand to his mouth, sucking in a pair of dainty digits. "You can drive demons to dust, baby, but nobody's ever made you scream like I can." Buffy shivered under Angel, right down to her depths. Not a bad sensation, all told. Damn him. Spike crawled under Angel's chin and engaged Buffy's mouth in a feral kiss-o-thon of toncil-spelunking.
Angel knelt up, still in her, matching her downward grinds. Yellow tabbies?
"I'm burning for you, love," Spike gasped when he pulled back to let her breathe. He waggled his brows. "What say we give the ol' codger a time-out?"
"Don't you need a little rest, Spike?" Angel mocked.
Spike grabbed his rearmed peacemaker with smug pride. "No."
"Spike, psst…" Spike leaned an ear in close to Buffy's mouth at her command. Angel slowed his pelvis to try and listen, but missed it. The idiot vampire lit up like a bug zapper at dusk.
"Really?" his voice cracked. "I mean…really?"
"Well, I'll be blowed. I'll have to kiss that fop's bloody shoes." And he was off, bouncing over the end of the bed.
Angel craned his neck. "Uh, who's blowing what…?"
Buffy grinned enigmatically, while somewhere behind them drawers were being opened.
"Eh, which drawer again, love?"
Buffy exchanged a reassuring glance with Angel who's abject dread must have been showing as his grinding ground to a dead halt. "You weren't serious about the handcuffs earlier, were you?"
Buffy pulled Angel's head down for a kiss. She stroked his cheek. Her eyes were warm and loving. "Trust me. Kink is Spike's department. He's got it covered."
Bbbbbrrruuuuzzzzz! "Bloody hell, woman, you've got an arsenal in here!"
"Next drawer over," she corrected.
There's a 'next' drawer?
"Uh, got it, pet. Blue bottle, right?"
"Blue or green, I'm easy."
That was becoming the understatement of the night. Where, oh, where had his little Buffy gone? No doubt her recent dating experiences had lent some influence to the matured stockpile of good vibrations. If nothing else, the Immortal ass-head did modernize well.
Spike bounded back onto the bed with triple-X Tigger-like excitement, blue squeezer bottle in hand. He grinned nastily at Angel. "Flip-over, peaches. This won't hurt a bit."
Angel slid out of Buffy and made a quick look for the exits. "Uh, guys, I don't know what plans you've got going, but..."
Buffy sat up and stroked his back, soothingly. "Don't worry, lover, all you have to do is lie down. Spike and I will handle the rest."
"The rest of what?" he asked, as she gently positioned him back in the pillows face-up. She slid a leg over him, rubbing his chest soothingly. "There won't be any rodents involved, will there?"
"Only if you don't taste like cheese," Spike cackled.
Buffy tossed her head at the uncouth one. "Spike, stop scaring Angel. This is my fantasy and I want it to go right. Which means full vampire co-operation."
Spike sighed dramatically. "Yeah, yeah. Sorry, poof, you'll still wake up a virgin."
Buffy touched Angel's cheek reassuringly as she remounted him, facing forward, her tender mouth descending to kiss and soothe away his blind-panic. Angel took the situation in stride and circled her small frame with his arms, protecting her from whatever deviance Spike had in mind as he watched them get comfortable with a carnal gleam and twitch of his bottle-holding fingers.
"Mmm, now there's a view. An E-ticket ride if I ever saw one."
Angel tuned-out the Spike-cast and put his full attention on kissing his former sweetheart. She held him close, returning the warmth with her mouth and core until he found himself beginning to slip into a state of irrational bliss: Love her, love her, love her. Buffy sensed it and sat up, still riding him, to reach back for Spike who wrapped her up in his arms like a fierce blond spider catching a butterfly in his web. He turned her head to latch onto her mouth hungrily as his free hand pinched a ripe red nipple, working it mercilessly to her moaning delight. Soon, the pale hand descended down her flat tummy to paw at her tender parts without much show of caution - wild possessive strokings that made her clench and whimper, growing more flush and hot around the fleshy length of Angel's lovebone.
She flowed between them like melting butter, cursing softly into Spike's mouth until she shuddered and bit his lip. He jerked back, "Ow! What the bloody hell was that for?"
"Your signal to get busy," she said tersely. Angel felt his lack of circulation surge even more southward. Take-charge-Buffy HOT. Her expression softened for Angel as she turned back to him, curling her fingers gently in his groin fur. "Just keep up what you're doing, lover - nice and slow."
"'kay," Angel managed, sliding his palms up and down her strong silky thighs. As long as this didn't involve any additional participants other than a pair of horny demons and a sexy slayer-babe, he felt he'd live through it - battery-powered objects notwithstanding. But then, he hadn't seen Spike grab any of them out of the amusement drawer which was still rattling softly to itself.
Spike looked busy with something very important behind Buffy's back. Something sounded slippery about it.
"OOP!" Buffy's eyes sent wide. "Fingers first, sweetie."
"Sorry, sorry," Spike said briskly, still looking down, holding up a slick palm. He took an unnecessary breath. "Forgot. Just a bit excited, here." Spike dropped the bottle with a squoochy noise and spooned Buffy up from behind, straddling Angel's legs. One arm wrapped around her hips, the other slid low…
Buffy's head dropped and her hair fell over her face as she ground down on Angel with an almost vampiric roar. "God, yesss…"
Spike blew the hair back from her ear, his arm and shoulder moving in time with Angel's fully enthralled hips. His tongue flicked under his teeth. "You like that, dirty bitch, don't you?" She made some dark other-worldly sound in reply. "Shoulda told me, years ago. I'd've made a fair wreck of you." Spike's shoulder drew back slow, then jerked forward again and she lifted her face, eyes wide with primal lust. A low keen issued from her throat as he bit her earlobe. "Gonna make you beg like you used to make me beg, all wretched and heartsick, prick all hard in my fist, dreaming of you, dreaming of this…well, except without Angel, of course, but I digress…"
"Please what, baby? What do you want your vampire dogs to do to you?"
She whimpered and moved her hand to touch herself low where Angel made every effort to keep the friction coming up nice and even. Angel shot a look at Spike, informing him of this development as he grabbed her sneaky hand, while Spike took the other and brought her arm up behind her backBuffy gasped but her eyes fluttered shut in rapture. This just in - crack vampire detective team works together to pleasure slayer senseless. In a related story, Hell froze over today…She wriggled in Spike's grasp, but only made a half-hearted attempt at escape. She could kick both their asses any time she wanted to. The thing of it was, she didn't want to.
Spike licked her cheek. "Please, what?"
"Mmm …want you…want you both to fuck me, fill me, make me come."
"Hear that, beefcake? Slayer's got an assignment for us."
"I heard the broadcast loud and clear," Angel answered. "Been to task for some time now. Better start pulling your weight around here, slacker."
Spike grinned. "I'm on it, boss." He ducked behind Buffy's back for a moment, humming to himself. "Uh, can you slow her down half a mo'? Need to aim." Angel raised his hips and tipped Buffy forward, she moved fluidly at their commands, caught up in some kind of fantastic dreamy trance. It was something not unlike the look in Darla's eyes some 120 years ago, stretched across their London Royal Hotel bed. Heheh. Yeah, be sure you tell Mr. Wonderful about this one.
Buffy's nose was dragging lazily across Angel's chest, her mouth muttering something non-human, when Spike made a grunt and jerk and her eyes shot open, a wordless shout not quite falling from her mouth. Angel felt things get a little more snug. Inch by inch - the parking slots were getting full-up at Buffyworld.
"Jesus fucking Christ."
Spike said it. There had to be something impossibly unholy about this. It felt too wonderfully wrong not to be.
"Eh, we're in. How's she looking from your end?"
Angel grinned, Buffy's eyes were a whirl of amazed-aroused colors focused on a pleasure cloud some fifty feet through the wall. "I think we've got her attention."
Spike looked stunned and a little terrified as he rested his chin on Buffy's shoulder. "What now?"
Angel looked around as if a step-by-step chart was hanging somewhere near the bed. "I guess we go for it." Buffy made an agreeable noise, though it was hard to tell through all the panting and expectant whimpering.
"You first," Spike squeaked. "I'll try to match you."
Angel felt his first smug grin of the night cross his face. "You have no fucking clue what you're doing, do you?"
"You're just now sussing this out?" Spike feebly confessed. "I'll try to be less subtle over the next century. Move, you terrible fiend, before I combust."
Angel took Buffy by the hips and thrust upwards. Both Slayer and backdoor vampire shuddered and groaned in reply. This was certainly getting into that too-bizarre-to-be-believed-letter-to-Penthouse territory. Even so, Angel found himself oddly comforted by the knowledge that after a year of bickering and petty arguments, he and Spike had finally managed to meet in the middle on something.
"Spike, snap out of it," Angel grunted between efforts. "You're like dragging a dead guy up a hill, here."
"I am a dead man," Spike sighed resignedly, but lifted his dazed head and shifted his weight to his knees to better soldier the rear guard. Finally, this vampire hoagie was beginning to roll. Buffy arched like an aqueduct and looked nearly as flooded with deep flowing bliss as they rocked her between them.
"Oh my God… oh my…my Spike, Angel…oh, fuck, I love you… "
Through furtive glances and slight adjustments of leg, arm and cock, both vampires calibrated themselves into a smoothly choreographed rhythm. Buffy went from fluid to tightly strung and back again, caught in the ebb and flow.
"Touch me, please touch me…" she begged through her teeth. Just below her thatch of curls, a small angry nubble was making some pretty adamant demands.
"Yours," Spike conceded, nodding to Angel. They were still holding back her hands. "You've got the advantage."
Angel slid his free palm up Buffy's thigh and threaded his fingers into her curls, combing her pretty fur. She cried out and gave him a vicious squeeze - an inside warning shot to finger her now or his dick was road kill. He bent two fingers and took her hot button in between, knuckling gently. Buffy inhaled like a rhinoceros and sighed like a lamb, writhing as well as a girl could writhe twice staked and thrice thrilled, thus.
"Oh, fuck, oh, God, that's it, that's perfect, don't stop, don't stop, don't stop…"
With a 'watch this!' wink toward Angel, Spike vamped and dipped his head to drag his fangs along her fiercely beating neck, nibbling just so and so…
"Yes! Yes! Oh……!"
Her heart stopped and both vampires froze mid-thrust for one eternal second, both thinking: Great, we killed her. Nice work. This is all your fault. But, the organ was just gathering steam for the following second, in which it frantically beat rivers of heated blood straight to all her secret pleasure centers, firing off a billion or more nerves and culminating in one simultaneous ear-piercing scream that somehow said it all.
Spike went off like an accidentally sparked fuse at a Fourth of July show - hips pounding joyously to an end - coming like a powderkeg of faulty canisters exploding into a shrieking, blanket-flinging crowd. "That's it, baby…scream for me, scream for me…love, love you…you fucking gorgeous whore…oh, oh, Shit! Buffy…!"
The mingled sensory whirlpool of throbbing Spike-filled Buffyheat and the unholy scent and noise of two more-than-human's coming together sent Angel's balls rocketing right up for the deepest most thoroughly built-up, record-breaking, magnificent…
"Spike!" Angel called out in desperation.
Spike lifted his drunken pleasure-soaked head from Buffy's trembling shoulder. "Yeah, mate?"
"Quick, say something annoying."
"Mmm, right, eh…uh…"
"Hang on, not fair…you've got me Johnny-on-the-spot...still seeing stars and all."
"Got one! Last year, I told Buffy you wear lifts."
"That I wear, what? That's not true!"
"Not since you found those French numbers with the thicker heels. Rather fetching, those."
"Spike! Ggrrrrraaaaaaaaahhh! Aaahhh! Aaaahhhh! Aaaaaaaahhhhhhh! Oooooooh! Ooooh! Ahh! Eee! Oh. Uh. Um. Whew…"
Moment of perfect blissful silence.
Moment of slayer and idiot vampire looking sideways at dresser top of pointy wooden hair-pick assortment, and approximate distance needed to grab handfuls of said assortment, during blissful silence.
Rendered incapable of all demonic speech, Angel made a 'don't stake me!' face and pulled a pillow over his heaving chest for protection. No way Buffy would stake Tuscan down.
"Still soul-having are we?" Spike said with a - was that a tinge of disappointment? He really was after that Viper. "I think you owe yours truly a pint."
Buffy looked a touch chagrined. "I guess I'm not as good as I used to be."
"Pint. Yes. Later. Basking. Afterglow. Not evil. Ahhhh. Mmmm. Buffy. Still good. Trust me. Guh. Zzzzzzzz."
Angel woke some hours later to the loveliest feel of warm perfect Buffyskin molded to his side. Her hair was tossed about under his chin and the sweet weight of her arm was resting across his belly in slumbering loving possession - along with the cool deadweight of Spike's twitching left hand. His pale body was pressed up tight behind her, ass to hip, big white nose buried at the back of her neck. Both vampires had snuggled up to her glowing heat in sleep. Angel closed his eyes, a wonderful breathless moment of burgeoning happiness was kerneling in his heart, sprouting tendrils of delight he should be concerned about, but was too pleasantly exhausted to give a shit.
I've got her so close. This is perfect. I can enjoy this. He's quiet, asleep even. Thank God vampires don't…
Still not evil. Not even a chance.