Self Love

By Shakespeare's Girl

A/N: For the Challenge (How many is this now?) Human AU, back in high school again, off of the "Best Friends" story line.

Spike glanced down and realized that he was hard. Which was not an uncommon thing, him being a teenage boy and all. But this time he'd been thinking not about the cute but annoying as hell girl who'd blamed him for breaking Mrs. VanAllen's window in fourth grade, but his best friend. He'd been thinking about Liam.

Spike shifted uncomfortably, trying to avoid attracting undue attention from his mother and sister.

"Anything wrong, William?" his mother asked.

"Hmm? Oh, uh . . . yes." Spike thought back to what his mother had asked, and winced. "I mean no, I just--um--IalreadyateandIgottagobye!"

His exit was anything but graceful, but he did get away from the table without any further questions. He slammed his door--something that was unavoidable since the house was old and the door stuck--and leaned back against it. His eyes closed and he pulled up the image he had in his mind of Buffy, but nothing happened. "Damn," Spike muttered.

Next he tried Drusilla, a girl a grade ahead of him and Liam, but strange enough that everyone thought she was still a freshman. Still nothing, despite her mesmerizing blue eyes and often low-cut dresses. "Damn!" Spike whimpered.

He let his mind drift where it wanted, one hand hovering over his crotch, the other raking through his hair. Immediately his mind conjured up Liam, the brown eyes and the big smile, the always friendly attitude--except when he went through one of his "blue periods" when he was moody and his eyes got that far away look, staring into the middle distance. It was sexy.

"Damn, damn, damn!" Spike hissed, running the heel of his hand down his suddenly perky erection. Liam had never been sexy before. Spike groaned, unzipping his pants and shoving them down around his knees.

Liam. All sunshine and lemonade and dark chocolate. Liam. His best friend. Liam, who was gorgeous and muscular and who had never shown the slightest interest in Spike although he had dated that kid Xander for a while. Liam, with the hands of an artist, and the good looks of the subject of a Renaissance painting. Liam, who looked like an angel.

Spike was panting now, fisting himself in one hand and clutching at his door knob with the other. "Angel--Liam--angel--God! Oh, god--" Spike shoved his hand into his mouth to muffle his scream as he came. When he pulled it away he'd left teeth marks in his skin.

He stumbled to the bed, kicking off his jeans and pulling on a worn out pair of sweats. When he flopped down, he realized he was crying.