RockStarPeach

Okay, for the New Year’s Party at

nekid_spike

Title:  New Years Bash

Pairing:  Mostly Spike/Wes - Though, you could make an argument for several of the AI gang and several superheroes, and… superman/captain proton..?

Rating:  Adult (barely)

A/N 1:  For those of you who don’t know (which is probably a lot) Captain Proton is a holodeck program that Tom and Harry played on ST: Voyager.  Proton was the superhero, Chaotica was the villain.  It was a lot like Flash Gordon.  But this fic has nothing to do with Star Trek.  Really.  I swear.

A/N 2:  I know a lot of the time the Hulk’s alter ego’s name is David Banner, but when I was a kid and watched the cartoon, it was Bruce.  And Bruce is a much cooler name, anyway *g*

Enjoy!
 

New Years Bash

Spike and Angel stood in the corner of the room, each sipping a beer, trying to keep to themselves, or keep to each other, or anything really to escape the craziness and absurd festivity of the night in front of them.

It was New Years Eve.  And of course Wolfram and Hart was having a blow out bash in celebration.  And, as was par for the course with a crazy evil law firm, things were far from ordinary, and a more than good time was being had by all.

“Hey mate, check it out,” Spike said to Angel after elbowing him in the side.

“Check what out?” Angel answered with a sigh, clearly reaching his limit of Spike induced craziness for the day. 

At the beginning of the party the gang had been a little hesitant so Harmony broke out the spell book and had cast a spell on the party, just to loosen everyone up a little.  Of course it hadn’t worked out exactly as she’d planned, and somebody should really add ‘spell casting’ to the list of things that Harmony was under no circumstances allowed to do.  Sure, it had been funny at first, when everyone kept seeing their favourite superheroes in the faces of the partygoers and Gunn kept insisting that Lara Croft was waiting for him by the punch bowl….  But now it was just plain annoying.  And Angel didn’t have the heart to tell him that it was really Phil, from accounting.

“It’s Dr. Chaotica!” Spike enthused.

Angel sighed again, and tried to ignore the man on his other side, who suddenly decided it was a good idea to start grabbing him in very inappropriate places, and hey… did that guy happen to look a whole lot like Bruce Banner, or was it just him? and answered, “For the third time, Spike, no.  It’s not Dr. Chaotica.  It’s Lorne.  Remember Lorne?”

Spike frowned slightly, perturbed by both Angel’s condescending tone and the fact that no matter what Angel told him, he was still pretty sure he was looking at Dr. Chaotica.  He perked up though, when less than a minute later he saw Fred enter the room on the arm of a devastatingly handsome man he recognised only from his dreams and, if he was feeling honest, if a bit geeky, the occasional Star Trek: Voyager rerun.

Spike bounced up and down on the balls of his feet.  “Oooo!  Oooo!  Angel, check it out,” he told his grandsire. 

Angel exaggerated the sigh this time, cause, hey, he could only keep it in so much, and bit out, “What now?!”

“It’s Captain Proton!” Spike said excitedly, not bothering to quell his effervescence in the face of Angel’s less than wholehearted response.

“It’s Who?  God Spike, take a nap or… a coma or something,” Angel told him, with little patience.  “Harmony’s spell, or all that beer… or something, must have hit you harder than you thought.  That’s Wesley.  Wesley?  Not Captain Omega, or whatever…”

“Captain Proton!” Spike interrupted proudly.

“Captain Proton, then,” Angel acquiesced.  “Still not him, braintrust!  It’s Wes.  Works with spells and demons and in colour… not like your little television fantasy who’s black and white, and fights aliens and most of the time has his shirt torn half off…”

Spike tuned out after that, thinking of Captain Proton, and how hot he looked, and then of Wes, and how hot he would look all in the midst of an alien battle, clothing torn, breathing heavy….

“…into guys anyway, so you might as well wipe the drool off your chin and find something else to do,” Spike vaguely heard Angel finish.  “Spike?  Are you even listening to me?”

Spike shook his head, as if to clear it.  “Yeah, mate.  Listening.  Heard you loud and clear.  Were talking about Wes with his shirt half off?  And if you think Captain Proton isn’t gay, try asking Buster Kincaid.”

Angel screwed up his face in incomprehension at Spike’s complete idiocy, but managed to say, “Well, why don’t you go ask Wes… I mean Captain Proton, how gay he is.” 

“That’s the best idea you’ve had in a while mate,” Spike said, and grabbed Angel’s face hard between his hands to plant a messy kiss on the older vampire’s lips.

Angel was too stunned to push Spike off like he should have done, and held back a breath of pleasure as he was kissed and prodded for several seconds before breaking free of Spike’s questing mouth, if only because of the distraction on his other side.

“And Spike?” he asked.  “While you’re at it, could you take Mr. Banner here with you?”

“Mr. who?” Spike asked, with a frown of confusion.  “Mate, that’s Knox trying to free Willy over there.  And you don’t really seem all that put off…”  Spike trailed off as Angel seemed to lose more and more interest in him as Knox got more and more friendly with Angel’s privates… and the rest was better left ignored as Spike still had other pursuits to conquer.

Angel shuddered a little at the thought of letting Knox touch him, but he was pretty sure Spike was wrong; this guy was Bruce Banner.  Angel was certain.  And he was damn hot too, as long as he didn’t put on a couple hundred pounds and turn green.  With a mental shrug, Angel turned back to Bruce and pressed his lips to the other man’s.

“Have fun anyway, ponce,” Spike advised, and headed off on the direction he’d last seen Captain Proton, leaving Angel and Knox to do good Lord knew what, and Spike was happy he wasn’t among the knowing.

***

Wesley and Fred had shared a drink and about 30 seconds worth of conversation when she had abruptly gone off in search of who she claimed just had to be Wonder Woman on the other side of the room.

So alone he stood, next to the snack table, nursing his beer, popping tiny little sandwiches, and scanning the crowd.

That’s when he nearly choked.  He saw Superman.  Well, not in his superman costume, obviously, since Wesley understood that he did need to keep a low profile.  Couldn’t have everyone knowing his secret identity could he?  But it was definitely Clark Kent, and Wesley was proud of himself for not blabbing the secret about who he really was then and there.  No, discretion was unquestionably called for.

***

Spike spotted Captain Proton, standing by himself, making short work of the hors d'oeuvres.  Looked like universe saving was hungry work.  He was about to walk right up to his hero, but ridiculous nerves suddenly got the better of him, so he tried to play it cool.  He snuck around behind the table that was displaying a wide selection of food and drink, picking up a stuffed mushroom on the way and popping into his mouth, then after taking his precious time over the bounty of tiny cakes, came to stand just a foot or so behind Proton.

Wesley froze.  Superman was standing right behind him!  He had to say something, but he had no idea what.  He didn’t want to look foolish, after all.

“You’re not fooling me you know, Mr. Kent,” Wes whispered conspiratorially.  And what kind of thing was that to say?  Okay, too late for not looking foolish.

Spike frowned in confusion, not quite sure who Mr. Kent was, but figuring it was probably some sort of code he decided to go with it.  “’M sure I’m not.”

“I know who you really are,” Wesley told him, turning back slightly to see the puzzled look on Clark’s face, and mistaking it for panic.  “Oh, don’t worry,” he hastened to assure him.  “I won’t tell anybody.  You’re secret’s safe with me.”

“Okaaay,” Spike said, thinking that as well as being hungry work, universe saving was looking more and more like crazy making work.  Oh well, he was still bloody gorgeous and Spike had come over on a mission after all…

“So… you into blokes then?”

Wesley blanched.  “What?”

Spike looked down at the ground, feeling suddenly slightly ridiculous.  “Blokes,” he repeated despite feeling silly.  “You like them?”

Wesley’s mouth dropped open.  That was what he thought Clark had said… but it couldn’t be.  He tried desperately to regain some composure, closing his mouth and standing up straight, attempting to look as if it was a question he was asked every day by his favourite, incredibly handsome superhero.

“I, um,” Wesley stuttered.  “No.  Not… not normally, though…”  Superman was not trying to hit on Wesley Wyndham-Pryce.  He couldn’t possibly be.  But just in case he was, Wesley was determined not to waste the opportunity, heterosexuality be damned.  “Though I could… make an exception.”

“Damn,” Spike said, not registering the last remark.  “Angel was right, though don’t go telling him I said that.  I could have sworn you and Buster had something going on, though.  You sure about-”

“Sorry,” Wesley cut him off.  “Me and who?”

“Right,” Spike said, shortly, looking around to make sure nobody had overheard.  Proton probably didn’t want to go advertising who he was, and shouting out his sidekick’s name to the room was a great way to do just that.  Somebody would probably want him to defeat Dr.  Chaotica, or marry Queen Arachnia or something.  He probably just wanted to relax and have some fun for once.  “Mum’s the word then.”

“I…” Wesley started, perplexed, but dismissed his confusion as irrelevant and took a step that put him shoulder to shoulder with Clark, wanting to get the conversation back on it’s very short track.  “So, you were saying about… well… I wouldn’t mind…”

“Hmmm?  Wouldn’t mind what?” Spike asked, turning his eyes from the dance floor where they’d discovered a fine pair of breasts that were inconsiderately attached to Harmony.   He had lost interest in Proton pretty quickly once he found out that he wouldn’t be getting lucky, and since Angel still seemed to having a pretty good time with Knox, he was getting just desperate enough to go there.  Again.

It was a good thing Superman was handsome and strong, thought Wesley, because he clearly wasn’t all that bright.  And now it looked like it was up to Wes to make a move, and why was that making him so nervous?  It wasn’t as if he’d never asked someone if they’d fancy a quick snog in the corner before.  Alright, so he’d never asked a man, and certainly not his childhood hero!

Wesley reached his hand out slightly to run one finger softly over Clark’s hand, and when he received no reaction except for a slight twitch he nodded to the corner he’d been eyeing up just before and said, “You know, it’s rather dark over there.  It seems there would be more… privacy.”

Spike looked where Captain Proton had indicated and nodded in agreement.  “Looks like, yeah,” he said, before turning his attention back to Harmony’s bouncing and swaying.

Wesley groaned.  God, this man was an idiot.  Still… a very hot idiot, a very strong idiot, a very brave idiot, an idiot Wesley had idolized his whole life.  Wesley grasped his hand tight, then, and said, “Yes.  So perhaps we could go there and… get to know each other a little better?”

Spike frowned.  “We could… Oh!” Spike enthused, finally getting it.  “You want some privacy so you can tell me all sorts of intergalactic secrets without any of the masses overhearing!  Brilliant!  Let’s go.”

“What?!”  Wesley squeaked, dropping the hand he was holding and taking a step back.  Did Clark for some reason think he had information about Krypton, or his family?  “What the hell are you… No, you complete moron.  I want some privacy so that we can shag.”

Spike frowned again.  Proton had said he wasn’t into guys, but hey, Spike wasn’t about to waste the chance.  “Why didn’t you just say so, mate?” he asked with a grin, kissing the other man, hard, and dragging him off by the elbow into the shadows.

***

There was awkward fumbling with belts and zippers and buttons, and even more awkward kissing and light touching of fingers across solid jaws and soft bellies before Spike decided to just get to the main event already and Wesley’s pants were pulled down to his knees and he was unceremoniously turned toward the wall.

He fell forward, and reached out his hands, stopping his face from becoming intimately acquainted with the wall, and allowed his legs to be kicked apart slightly at the feet.  He felt something wet and slippery between his cheeks that was much too small to be a penis, and it didn’t hurt all that much when it pushed its way inside and wriggled around a little.

When it was joined by a friend, and then another, and they all wriggled together, the sensations went from odd to intriguing.  And when they were withdrawn and replaced by something decidedly thicker and longer, and that something was moving in and out and in and out, and hands were gripping tight, so tight, around Wesley’s hips, the sensation was something he wouldn’t have been able to name, only to say that it was something very, very good. 

After the first few uncomfortable stokes they were each so lost in the pleasure that they only vaguely registered the metronomic chanting of the crowd as the clock ticked off the seconds until 2008 rolled in.

“Ten!  Nine!  Eight!...”  And Spike moved his right hand from where it gripped Proton’s hip with bruising force, and gripped instead his leaking erection.  He used his thumb to collect some moisture from the weeping tip, and slicked it up and down the sides of the thick shaft, pumping it in time with his thrusts into Proton’s exquisite virgin arse.

“Seven!  Six!  Five!...”  And Wesley rested his heat-infused forehead on the cool wall in front of him, next to the hands he was using to brace himself, while he alternated between pushing forward into the tight fist and back onto the sinfully delightful intrusion.

“Four!  Three!  Two!...”  And Spike’s fist worked faster, stroking the meat sandwiched between fingers and palm, and his hips pushed harder, quicker, working his cock in deeper and Wesley screamed as the angle of penetration was changed slightly and fireworks exploded behind his eyes, and he lost any rhythm he had ever pretended to have in the encounter, bucking and writhing like a man possessed.

“One!!!!”  And as the party burst into lights and confetti and song and champagne, Spike thrust once more into the heat and pulled once more on the shaft in his hand, and came with a cry as his fingers were coated with the warm spend of his partner.

And that’s when Harmony’s spell abruptly ended.

Wesley continued to rest his head against the dark corner wall, trying to regain his breath, and a modicum of composure, as it suddenly occurred to him that this was a highly inappropriate and embarrassing position to be caught in, even if the guy who was still balls deep in his backside was Superman.  And that was another thing when he really thought about it.  How likely was it that he had truly met Superman at a Wolfram and Hart New Year’s party and even if he had, would Superman really be the type to shag him up against the wall?

Spike wiped his hand off on his partner’s pants, but other than that remained motionless for the moment.  Turned out Captain Proton was one hell of a goer, and Spike needed a minute to recover before he left to pry Angel off of Knox and give him a big fat ‘I told you so’. 

Wesley’s afterglow began to fade, and he began to feel uncomfortably full and his legs were beginning to ache and he had fluid leaking from his arse, and he really, really wanted to pull up his pants and get a glass of scotch.  He pushed backwards slightly, and removed his face and hands from the wall, and luckily the man of steel (and he sure knew now where that name had really come from) took the hint and slid out of him gently before helping him to hike his pants back up from around his knees.

Spike left the other man to fasten his own belt as he stuffed himself back into his jeans and buttoned them quickly.  He craned his neck to either side, cracking it twice, and shrugged his shoulders to right his duster before taking in a breath to prepare for speech, ready to tell Proton it had been great… when the man turned around.

Spike’s eyes went wide and his mouth dried out, and it took him a few tries to manage to choke out, “Wes?”

Wesley didn’t seem to be doing much better.  “Spike?” he yelped, after swallowing around lump in his throat the size of a baseball.  This was bad.  This was more than bad, this was horrible.  Ghastly.  Atrocious.  Dreadful.  Spike was about to laugh at him for behaving like 10 kinds of fool, and broadcast the news of their escapade all over the building, and before morning everyone would know that he had the IQ of a McDonalds worker, had a crush on Superman, and let Spike fuck him in the arse in the middle of a room filled with his friends.  Yes, this was bad.

But Spike had no such plans.  He looked around a moment in panic, trying to determine if they’d been seen.  Sure, Wes wasn’t entirely a bad catch, and he’d love the chance to have a go at him when he knew who he really was, but Spike had been going on and on about Captain bloody Proton, and it looked Angel had been right after all. 

“Look, mate, I…”  Spike started.

“Spike.  Good Lord.  Maybe we could just…”  Wesley began at the same time.

“Pretend this never happened?” Spike suggested.

“Dear God yes!” Wesley wholeheartedly agreed.  Then quickly backtracked.  “Not that, you know, it wasn’t, well, it was.  Very nice, that is.  And I’m sure there are many around here would love the chance to do what we…  But I just wasn’t thinking clearly and…”

“Relax Percy,” Spike suggested.  “Not exactly my finest hour either.”  And then realising how Wesley might take that, he did a little backtracking of his own.  “You’re a bloody fantastic screw, pet, and to be honest, I’d give you another go round or dozen in front of the entire sodding firm.  Just had some other shit going on tonight that has nothing to do with you, and it’d be best if this didn’t get out.”

Wesley breathed a sigh of relief and looked around to make sure that indeed nobody had seen them.  “Good.”

Spike nodded and turned to leave but was stopped by Wesley saying, “I’m not normally such a fan of exhibitionism.  Perhaps next time we could try this somewhere a little more private?”

Spike tried to stop his mouth opening and closing like a moron yet again, but suspected he failed miserably.  “Absolutely pet,” he finally managed.  “Next time just you and me.”

END