RockStarPeach

Part 8.  The boys are still being stubborn idiots.  They just won't listen to me!  I was gonna wait and post this tomorrow, cause this is like 3 parts in just over a week, and I'm sure you're probably sick of this story, but angelstoy made the most absolutely gorgeous banner for this story last night, and I literally couldn't wait another day to show it off!  It's naughty.  It's hiding.  Seriously, it's so pretty and so hot, you gotta check it out!



Title:  Helping Hand

Pairing:  Lindsey/Wes, Spike/Wes

Rating:  Adult

Summary:  College roommates Lindsey and Wes have to work together to help Lindsey with Wrestling practice.  Then Spike shows up and Wesley gets distracted...

Previous Parts

 

Part 8

 

***

Tuesday morning came around and Wesley and Lindsey managed all their usual morning activities without so much as a word to each other.  Lindsey showered while Wesley ate, Wesley showered while Lindsey dressed, and Lindsey ate, loudly and annoyingly, while Wesley packed up his books for class.

“Will you close your bloody mouth?!” Wesley finally gave in and broke the stalemate that had lasted since Sunday afternoon.  “You sound like a damn cow!”

Lindsey did close his mouth, grinning internally at his victory in getting Wesley to speak first.  The day before had been awkward, and Lindsey was just as happy as Wesley to keep his distance, but today he was sick of it, and he was pissed. 

He was pissed at having these stupid feelings for Wesley that he didn’t know what do to with, and he was pissed at Wesley for showing him that the feelings existed in the first place, and really pissed at Wes for cutting him off, when at least that had given him an outlet to deal with the physical ramifications of his new-found gayness.

And now he wanted to piss Wesley off, too.  Hiding his All Bran, so he was forced to eat Lindsey Cap’n Crunch hadn’t worked, using up all the shaving cream so that Wes had to skip his morning shave hadn’t worked, (and had bit Lindsey in the ass, because Wes looked damn sexy with a bit of stubble), bit it seemed as if poor breakfast manners was where his roommate drew the line.

“Sorry Wes,” Lindsey smiled facetiously around his next bite of cereal, then tossed his empty bowl on top of the fridge.  He knew Wes hated that.  He was pretty strict about cleaning up dishes as soon as they were dirtied, but Lindsey was impressed that Wesley only closed his eyes for a moment, took a breath and said, “It’s almost time for class.”

Lindsey took that as an invitation to walk there together, and apparently it was meant that way, because Wesley waited at the door for Lindsey collect his necessities, walked beside him in mutual quiet over to the next building, and led Lindsey up the steps and into their usual seats.

***

Spike had finally dragged himself out of Xander’s apartment about 20 minutes ago.  He might have been happy to spend the rest of the week there, indulging in a silly fantasy, but real life was classes and grocery shopping and Wesley and moving on, so he kissed Xander on the head, and snuck out of bed when the other boy was still asleep, and looked forward to seeing Wesley again after two days of no contact.

He didn’t have enough time to stop by his own place to pick up what he needed for class, but he did still have the pen that Wes had given him last week, and he unconsciously reached his hand down to his jacket pocket and let his fingers brush over the cold metal of the casing, and smiled to himself at the memory of receiving the gift.  He could borrow anything else he might need from Wes.

He managed to make it to class a couple of minutes early, and was feeling pretty good about his punctuality, but he hadn’t shown up early enough to see Wes and his roommate come into the room, and sit in the seats that Wesley and Spike had sat in during the previous two lectures.  He saw them sitting there now, though.

They weren’t laughing, or talking, or even looking at each other, but Spike still bristled at the sight of the shaggy haired Texan sitting next to his Wesley.  He knew they were friends and he knew they were roommates, so going to class together was to be expected, and not something that should piss Spike off as much as it did, but he also knew they had fucked.  Recently.  And Spike couldn’t help reading more into the situation.

Lindsey was sitting in the aisle seat, and Wesley in the one next to that, and if Spike wanted to sit next to Wes, he’d have to climb over them both to get to the empty seat on Wes’s other side, and he thought that might make him seem a bit too desperate.  Desperate was the last thing Spike wanted to seem, especially in front of his competition, and he was under no delusions that Lindsey wasn’t competition, so he took a seat two rows back, and directly behind Lindsey.  At least this way he could keep an eye on them without seeming obsessive.

Once he sat down he remembered that all he had brought to class with him was a pen.  Crap.

***

Lindsey was trying to look anywhere but at Wesley, mostly out to the front of the classroom, or to the stair aisle, just as Wesley was looking in the other direction towards the back of the room and into the row of seats.  And that’s why Lindsey noticed when Spike arrived, and saw him looking around, no doubt for Wes, and locked eyes with him for less than a second before they both skittered their gaze away, pretending they hadn’t noticed each other.

Lindsey pretended to flip through the pages in his book, pretended to find the place that last weeks lecture ended and today’s was sure to start, like many of the other students, but all his attention was on Spike out of the corner of his eye.  As Spike’s heavy booted steps took him up behind where Lindsey and Wesley were sitting, he lost track of his movements, and for some reason hoped Wes hadn’t noticed him.

***

Wesley was fiddling with his fingers nervously, waiting for Spike to show up to class.  He hadn’t heard from the blond in a couple of days, hadn’t had the three calls he had made answered, and he was a little apprehensive about their next meeting. 

Had Wesley done something wrong?  Did Spike not want to see him anymore?  Would Spike just ignore him when they passed in the hall, pretend they hadn’t shared a few phenomenal evenings together and treat him like he was any one of the other annoyingly braindead students in their class?

His eyes darted around the room, between all the entrances, desperately searching, but trying to avoid looking at Lindsey.  He needed to see Spike, needed to find out why he hadn’t called, and needed to know if things were okay between them, because he couldn’t handle another rejection at the moment, not after Lindsey’s.

After several minutes of nothing he had almost given up, figured Spike wasn’t going to show, and was planning on telephoning him again when he got home, but he started to feel a tingle at the back of his neck, his hair standing up just a tad, and then a shiver ran down his spine and arms that signalled to Wesley that he was being observed.

He snapped his head around and saw the object of his desires two rows back, and staring straight at him.  Wesley looked back, perplexed for the moment, not knowing why Spike hadn’t sat next to him, or said anything to him, and prepared himself for his earlier suspicions being confirmed, but then Spike’s mouth slowly slid into a lecherous grin, and he winked, and expertly twirled the pen that Wesley had given him around his fingers.

***

Lindsey followed the turn of Wesley’s head, and saw the idiotic look Spike was giving him.  As if that was supposed to be sexy or something.  But God, then he watched Wes do something even stupider, big toothy smile plastered on his face, not in the least trying to hide how happy he was to see the hair-gelled moron.  He was embarrassed for them both.  And not at all jealous.

He watched Wesley look down at his desk, pick up his notebook and hold it up to Spike, eyebrow raised in question, and watched Spike tilt his head and shrug his shoulders a bit, picture of false innocence that only someone equally deviant could recognise.  And he wanted to shout at Wesley that he had to stop being so naïve, and that Spike was a player and he was using him and Wesley deserved better, but he didn’t.

He didn’t, because as soon as he thought the words he realised they were true of himself as well, even if he had never intended it.  Sure, he cared about Wes.  Cared more every day and underneath everything might, if things were radically different, be able to love him in the way that he’d never loved before, in the way that Wes needed.  But ultimately, he was just using Wes, in a different way than Spike but with no better excuse, to work out the kinks and cravings of his sexuality, because he knew there couldn’t be anything more between them than the occasional fuck.

He hated himself for it, whished it wasn’t true, but really, what did either of them think was going to happen?  Lindsey’s friends, social and academic standing, his life; it all depended on him wanting to fuck girls, so who could blame him for not being strong enough to give Wesley what he wanted, and for being so weak that he couldn’t even admit to himself that he wanted it too.

Wesley stood up, reached across the row of desks behind them and handed several sheets of paper to Spike, who licked his lips and mumbled something British and flirty and glided his fingers over Wesley’s as the paper exchanged hands, and Lindsey found his jeans becoming uncomfortably tight as he watched Spike’s moves.  Damn.  He could sort of understand what Wes saw in him, even if it did make him want to hit something.

Wesley blushed, and Spike winked again, and he couldn’t figure if he was more brassed off at not being the one to turn Wes’s face that delicious shade of crimson, or not being the recipient of that look of Spike’s. 

But then Wesley turned around, and Spike looked at Lindsey again, and all the humour and light had left his face entirely, and Lindsey was left with a stone cold stare of warning.  Huh.  Seemed like Spike knew the score after all.

***

Satisfied for the moment that he’d connected with Wesley enough for public consumption, and did his present best to warn off Wesley’s slack-jawed friend, he sat back in his chair and kicked his feet up on the desk next to him, and listened to the commencing lecture.

Tried to listen to the lecture, that should be, because all he could concentrate on was Wesley and Lindsey and how they shot innocent looks between them, even as they said nothing, and allowed naïve touches of elbows and fingers under the guise of reaching for shared paper or turning to the correct page in the text. 

Spike clenched his jaw at the sight, and ground his teeth back and forth against each other in a soothing rhythm, trying to calm himself.  He knew those moves.  Had used them on Wes just days ago and they had worked a treat, and Spike balled his hands up into fists at his sides as he witnessed that they seemed to be working just as well, if not better, now that Lindsey seemed to have picked them up.

There was an honest sort of affection between the two, non-verbal communications worth more than paltry words, that shone through despite the fact that they were being dishonest enough not to mention it, and Spike sure as hell had no plans of mentioning it for them, preferring things to work out in his favour. 

Spike was pretty certain he was coming out as the front runner here, at least for now, but he was not stupid enough to think that Wes and Lindsey weren’t still fucking, especially after the death glare Lindsey had just given him over Wesley’s head, but he didn’t think he was out of the game just yet.

Ninety minutes later the class ended, after Spike not taking a single note, and he stuffed the papers into his coat pocket before Wes could witness his slacking, and Wes stood up and turned a bright smile on Spike.

He noticed Lindsey’s slight scowl, but Wes didn’t seem to, because he brushed past Lindsey innocently, and walked out into the aisle, and it was Spike, not Lindsey, that Wesley kissed on the cheek and stood too close to and promised a date with later that night.

Wesley ran from the room as soon as he’d told Spike to pick him up at 7, so he wasn’t there to witness the silent standoff that occurred between the other two men, nor to see Spike finally win the day by saying, quietly and just between the two of them, “I’ll give him an honest relationship, treat him like he deserves.  Will you?”

***

 

“You look nice,” Lindsey told Wes later that evening, when they were both back in their room, and shut away from all other distractions.

He really did.  Dark jeans, not as tight as that ridiculous pair that Wes seemed to think worked, and also a good deal better fitting than those much too loose pants that he liked on occasion.

White button down top, fitted perfectly to his torso, tails left hanging over the top of his pants, carelessly and sensually, and Lindsey almost had to actually bite his tongue to keep from talking any more, and drawing attention to the fact that he couldn’t get the way Wesley looked off his mind.

“Thank you,” Wesley answered, hiding a slight blush.

He thought he looked good, too and he only hoped Spike agreed.  He smoothed down the imaginary wrinkles in his ensemble and turned to Lindsey.  “I hope Spike agrees with you.  It’s him I’m trying to impress, isn’t it?”

And okay, he might have been trying to entice Lindsey to some sort of reaction, to see if he was hurting even the slightest bit, feeling anything at all, because he couldn’t imagine, for one second, that Lindsey would have had sex with him, twice, and not care in the least that he had been seeing someone else. 

But Lindsey let him down, again, because he only smiled, if a bit facetiously, and said, “I’m sure he will, Wes.”  It wasn’t until Wes left the room to wait for his date downstairs, the door closing behind him with a soft ‘snick’,  that Lindsey admitted out loud, “He’d have to be fuckin’ blind not to.”

Lindsey knew he would have no luck willing down his rampant erection, all the evidence of the past week and a half adding up to failure in the face of Wesley looking so Goddamned sexy so he decided to try to quell his desire in a warm shower.  And okay, a cold shower would have worked better, but wouldn’t have been anywhere near as comfortable.

 

***

 

He came back from the shower to an empty room made all the more empty for knowing exactly where his roommate was, and what he was doing.  He hadn’t mentioned where he and Spike had planned to go, but he didn’t need to.  That sort of information was superfluous for Lindsey, since the only thing that mattered to him was what they’d be doing after the date, and how he wished it would be him instead of Spike that Wes wanted to be with.

 

But of course he was with Spike.  Because Spike really was his boyfriend now, or at least that was the impression Wes was giving, playing the shy little virgin with him all of a sudden.  Wesley hadn’t given him any action in two days, and he probably wasn’t going to anytime soon, as long as Spike was in the picture, and it irritated Lindsey, even as it hurt him.

 

Wesley had wanted him first, and he thought that Wesley had wanted him more.  He had let him know that he was available, even if he was seeing Spike, but Wesley had turned him down, and while a part of him was happy that Wesley seemed to have found someone and was content and confident, another part was righteously angry at the rejection.

 

The shower had done nothing to discourage his arousal, as he’d figured it wouldn’t.  He’d been horny since Saturday afternoon, and he was still horny, and Wesley’s sudden monogamy wasn’t helping matters. 

 

He stripped his towel off, flung it over his desk chair and looked around the empty room.  He was going to masturbate.  It was a weird feeling, thinking that in advance, because usually it just happened, under the sheets at night, or in the shower, but this was a premeditated decision. 

 

He considered his bed, where he usually did it, but dismissed that as too boring.  He considered his desk, or the floor, or just standing where he was and getting it over with, but what he ultimately decided on was Wesley’s bed.

 

Nothing had ever happened between the two of them in this room, and Lindsey desperately wanted to correct that.  If it couldn’t actually happen, well, Lindsey had a pretty good imagination.

 

He sat down on the foot of the bed, on the corner, letting his legs splay out to either side, taking his cock, which had been hard since he watched Wes dress and leave their room, into his hand.  He pumped absently, taking in the other man’s desk, books, CDs, snackfood… everything that made Wes Wes, and he was mildly surprised when the tip of his erection started leaking clear fluid to signal its interest, because he hadn’t even been thinking especially sexy thoughts.

 

He rubbed his thumb over the spongy head, spreading the fluid around and closed his eyes, moaning softly at the feel.  Before he had even realised he had moved, he was inching up the bed, resting his head on the pillow that Wesley slept on every night, tugging randomly at the comforter that Wesley used, as his right hand kept up it’s assault on his prick.

 

He spread his legs, pulling his knees up as far as he could without the benefit of his arms to guide them, just like he had when Wes had taken him.  He let his left hand trail over his balls, squeezing lightly and rolling them around and considered delving lower, to give himself something that he knew was missing, but couldn’t bring himself to do it.  He had to get used to not feeling that again.

 

Instead he sped up his movements, desperate now to cum, and get this farce over with.  His left hand squeezed tighter, his right hand was a blur, and soon he was shooting out streams of white across his hand and stomach, his ass clenching uselessly around nothing.  Lindsey had never felt so empty.

 

***

 

For the next three days Lindsey and Wesley maintained a cold politeness, both too stubborn to admit that they were inwardly seething, and desperate for something more.  If Lindsey didn’t want a relationship with Wesley, and if Wesley didn’t want casual sex with Lindsey while he worked out his issues, then they just had to accept their differences and move on.

 

And for the next three days, Wesley and Spike dated. 

 

That first night they went out to eat.  Nothing fancy, just burgers, but it was fun.  It was perhaps their first chance for any real conversation, and Wesley found himself having a much better time than he thought possible.

 

They talked about themselves, their lives and families and turn-ons, they joked and flirted and brushed their knees against each other’s under the table and there was something about Spike’s completely open, unguarded expression and the honesty he was showing in the simplest words and actions that made Wesley’s stomach flutter in a way that ‘Spike: The Sexual Predator’ never could.

 

They stayed in the restaurant long after they’d finished dinner, drinking coffee and sharing a piece of cake for dessert, and Wes thought that maybe Spike would invite him back to his place afterwards, where they could have some privacy.

 

But Spike just drove him home, and they exchanged mutual hand jobs over the gear shift in the front seat of Spike’s car before Spike kissed him, long and hard, and with so much passion it made Wesley’s toes curl.  It wasn’t until after he got back to his room, and smiled at finding Lindsey asleep with the television blaring that he realised he hadn’t thought about his roommate at all that night.

 

The next night they went out to the campus bar again, had a few drinks, shot some pool and Wesley fell in love with the sound of Spike’s laugh.  And the sight of him bent over the pool table to make his shot.

 

Angel showed up at some point, with Cordelia and Harmony, and Wesley snuck glances at them occasionally, Cordelia all over Angel, and Harmony on her own, and it was a little harder that night for Wesley not to think of Lindsey.

 

He hoped again that Spike would invite him back to his, had done his best to seem available without coming across like an enormous slut, but when they left the bar Spike walked him home.  He detoured them through a patch of trees too few in number to be called a forest and pushed Wesley to his knees on the ground as he leaned back against the trunk of a maple and unfastened his pants.

 

Wesley blew him, ignoring the dampness of the night grass on his knees, enthusiastic but disappointed that there wouldn’t be more, and jerked himself off to the earthy taste of Spike.

 

On the third night, Thursday night, instead of going out, Wesley invited himself to Spike’s place.  They seemed to have reached some sort of unspoken understanding over the past several days that the next time they had sex, Spike would be the one topping, and Spike seemed to be going out of his way to give Wesley time to get comfortable with that fact, but Wesley was feeling about as comfortable as he was likely to get, and he didn’t think he could go one more day without feeling Spike’s naked body against his.

 

Just one week ago, he thought it would have been Lindsey that he was getting ready to do this with, wanted it to have been Lindsey.  That was most of the reason that he hadn’t let Spike take him that first night.  He had wanted Lindsey be his first, but he hadn’t been ready when Lindsey wanted it, too.

 

And it had absolutely nothing to do with Lindsey being able to beat him at wrestling, like he’d said, and when he made that ridiculous deal he’d had no intention of making Lindsey wait that long.  He would have been willing to roll over for him the very next day if only Lindsey would have shown him some sort of affection or a desire for more than just the physical, but he never had.

 

But Spike seemed more than willing to, and Wesley realised now that he was glad it had worked out this way.

 

In a few hours, Wesley wouldn’t be a virgin anymore, by anyone’s standards.

 

***

 

Spike had decided to slow things down with Wesley.  He probably never should have come on so strong in the first place, as that sort of start to a relationship pretty much guaranteed that it wouldn’t develop into much, but then again, last week he hadn’t wanted it to.  Now he was reconsidering.

 

Wesley was definitely something special, put a silly smile on his face whenever he thought of him, made his day better every time he saw him.  Lord knows how the dorky little bastard had gotten so under his skin in such a short time, but Spike honestly wanted to make a go of things.  So much so that he hadn’t called Xander all week.

 

Each night this week they had gone out, he had been aching to bring Wes home with him, do amazingly sinful things to him, fuck him, hard and sweet until they were both begging for more and less, but he hadn’t.

 

He knew Wesley needed some time, and he was going to give it to him.  Of course, he wasn’t a saint, he still needed a bit of action, so he had indulged in a bit of manual and oral fun with Wes, but he wouldn’t force the issue of actual sex.  He’d wait for Wesley to come to him.

 

And he hadn’t had to wait long.

 

***

 

Wesley arrived at Spike’s place that evening, and Spike was surprised to find that he was nervous.  It was completely ridiculous.  It wasn’t like he’d never been alone with Wes before, hadn’t exchanged blow jobs and fucked and slept next to each other, but if he was reading Wesley right, he was ready to try something new, and Spike wanted it to be good for him.

 

And again, it wasn’t as if Spike didn’t know how to do that, but the knowledge didn’t stop the butterflies.

 

They ordered a pizza, and sat on the couch together, eating and talking and watching a silly old Three Stooges movie, and Wesley found the absence of Spike’s bravado charming. 

 

After Wes had finished the last slice of pizza, and Spike kicked the lid of the box shut with the heel of his foot, Wesley shifted on the couch so that he was practically sitting in Spike’s lap.  It wasn’t the smoothest of moves, but the awkwardness seemed to ease Spike somewhat, because he chuckled a bit and adjusted their positions so that Wesley was nuzzled up next to him, Spike’s arm around his shoulders, bodies pressed together from neck to knee.

 

“Mmmm,” Wesley sighed as he trailed his fingers over Spike’s leg, moving inward over the thigh and stopping when he was about an inch shy of Spike’s groin.  “This is nice.”

 

“Be a whole lot nicer, pet, if you move your hand just a touch.”

 

Wesley grinned into Spike’s shoulder, where his head was resting, and he felt Spike’s answering smile as he kissed him on the head.  “I meant this.  Just being here.  Together.”

 

“I know what you meant, baby,” Spike said as he squeezed Wes a little closer to him.  “And yeah, it is.”

 

They passed the rest of the movie in comfortable silence, and when the credits started to roll, Spike started to get frisky.  He nudged Wesley’s head from its resting place, and brought his own head down to lick and nip across Wesley’s neck.  The hand that wasn’t currently wrapped around Wesley’s shoulders started to work its way up from Wesley’s knee to his thigh, and Spike didn’t stop where Wes had earlier.

 

His fingers tickled over the bulge in Wes’s pants, felt it jump at the touch and start to grow harder under his ministrations, but he also felt Wesley tense a little in his embrace.  That was no good.

 

“Wes, if you don’t want to do this, we don’t have to,” he reassured him, and the funny thing was, he meant it.  Last time he had said those words to the man in his arms he had only been trying to ease his doubts to ensure victory, and he couldn’t say he wouldn’t be disappointed now if Wes changed his mind, but he could wait. 

 

“No, I do,” Wesley assured him.  “I’m just a little anxious.”  The admission was finished on a slight gasp as Spike caught his earlobe between blunt teeth, and gently tugged.

 

Spike stood then, pulling Wesley by the hand.  “Then let’s move this to the bedroom,” he said with a sly look and twist of his hips as he turned, and Wesley was helpless but to follow.

 

Once there, Wesley stood, rooted the spot as he watched Spike slowly strip, taking his time to work his t-shit up over his head, exposing his wonderfully toned abdomen, inch by inch, then dropped the shirt carelessly to the floor at his side.  Next he worked his belt loose, and lowered his zipper, eyes glued to Wesley’s as the interlocking teeth were slowly pulled apart.

 

Wesley swallowed at the intensity of the gaze, and when it appeared Spike was no longer moving he let his eyes drift to where they desperately wanted to focus.  Spike’s pants were open, and the outline of his hard cock was visible through his tight black underwear, framed by Spike’s hands, as his thumbs hooked under his waist band.

 

Wesley started salivating at the sight, and thought that if didn’t close his mouth soon, he’d be drooling.  He let out a short bark of laughter thinking of how dumb that would look, and Spike frowned.

 

“Not exactly the reaction I was going for, love.”

 

“No, I… I didn’t mean…” Wesley stuttered, then took a deep breath to continue.  “You look amazing, Spike.  You always look amazing.”

 

Damn right, thought Spike, and worked his pants down over his hips to let them pool around his bare feet.  He repeated the movement on his underwear, dragging them down over his legs, then stepped out of the pile of clothing, and closer to Wes, erection bobbing tall and proud in front of him.

 

Wesley groaned, and his skin rose up in goose flesh as he drank in the magnificent sight of a naked and wanting Spike right in front of him.  He reached out his hands to grab hold of him, arms or hands or shoulders, or whatever was closest, but Spike gently pushed them back down to his sides and placed a finger over Wesley’s lips to silence any protest.

 

Spike then worked the buttons of Wesley’s shirt carefully open, stopping after each one to place a soft kiss to Wesley’s bare skin.  Once that was finished, he slid the dark cotton over Wesley’s shoulders and down his arms, fingers skimming the pebbled flesh in the shirt’s wake.

 

Wesley closed his eyes and let his head loll back at the touch, moaning so softly even he didn’t notice the sound.  His stomach muscles contracted, and pulled in a bit as Spike’s knuckles brushed against his belly button, tickling the soft skin there as his nimble fingers worked Wesley’s pants open.

 

“Alright, love?” Spike asked around a smile as he pushed his fingers inside two layers of clothing, to stroke across Wesley’s rapidly hardening cock.

 

“Oh, God yes!” Wesley answered, jerking his hips forward, and Spike chuckled.

 

“Right then,” Spike said, and sank to his knees, taking Wesley’s clothing with him.  He helping the brunet step out of his jeans and underwear, pulling his socks off as he did, and looked up in wonder at the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

 

His eyes moved along Wesley’s perfectly sculpted legs, over his lush, heavy sac, up his red, hard, thick, perfect cock, over his torso, and chest, and absolutely divine neck and jaw and mouth, and finally settled on his eyes.  And really, Spike could look at them for hours, so agonisingly beautiful were they.

 

“Bloody hell, Wes,” Spike managed in a hoarse whisper.  “You’re unbelievable.”  Then he seemed to shake off some of his awe, because he jumped up from the floor, near snarled at Wesley, and scooped him up from the floor like a husband carrying his new bride across the threshold, and sprinted the short distance to the bed.

 

“Spike!” Wesley laughed in mock disapproval as he was plopped down quite unceremoniously on the roomy queen sized, but any protests were cut short when Spike landed on top of him, claiming his mouth in a series of hard, sweet kisses.

 

They ground against each other, bodies smashing and blood-filled dicks spreading slick pre-cum over themselves and each other, as they locked tongues and grabbed at arms and hair and asses and whatever else they could reach.

 

“Spike,” Wesley warned after a short while of the tantalising movement.  “I can’t do this much longer.  I’m close.”

 

Spike considered suggesting that Wesley go ahead and finish.  It wasn’t as if they had a time limit after all, and it wouldn’t be long anyway before Wesley was hard again, but he thought that for Wesley’s first time it would help if he was really turned on, desperate to get his needs satisfied.

 

Spike pressed one last kiss to Wesley’s lips, then reached in the bedside table for supplies, feeling Wesley tense up underneath him when he came up holding the condom and lubricant. 

 

“It’s alright, Wes,” he soothed, rubbing a comforting hand up and down Wesley’s leg.  “I’ll go slow, and you tell me if it’s too much, yeah?”

 

Wesley nodded, and offered an apologetic smile and Spike placed the items on the bed next to them, raised Wesley’s knees up, and bent his head down to lick up the trail of their combined fluids that had accumulated on Wesley’s shaft.

 

That was familiar.  That was good.  Wesley started to push his hips up a bit, giving Spike a clear idea of what he wanted, and Spike made good, opening his mouth, letting Wesley slide his prick inside, over lips and teeth, and deep inside Spike’s mouth, to settle at the back of his throat, before Spike pulled back a little, and set up pattern of licking and bobbing and sucking.

 

He didn’t do it for long, just until Wesley was relaxed and needy enough for him to move on to something else.  He slid his pursed lips up the throbbing erection and over the top, and a wet, squelching sound broke the quiet of the room and Wesley let out a nervous laugh.

 

The laugh quickly turned into a moan of pleasure when Spike’s warm mouth closed his testicles, rolling them over his tongue, sucking first one, then the other, gently into his mouth, humming and groaning around the sac, the vibrations making the skin pull taught and the weight shift closer to Wesley’s body.

 

Wesley could have stayed right there forever, had Spike permanently attached to his nuts, because he couldn’t imagine anything else feeling this good.  He’d received oral sex before, plenty of times, even once by Spike, but perhaps because of the knowledge of what was coming next, or the time and care Spike was showing by working like this to prepare him, or the sheer enthusiasm Spike showed for his task, this was far and away the best it had ever been.

 

But soon Spike’s lips left his balls, leaving them wet and glistening and cool in the warm air of the apartment and Wesley held his breath, waiting for Spike’s next move.  He wasn’t surprised, but still couldn’t hide the slight twitch that followed when Spike pressed his lips against the crack of his arse and licked, small circles around his pucker, concentric, and after 4 or 5 swipes pushed his wriggling, wet tongue deep inside.

 

Spike worked it around, pushing in and out, around the inside, and over the entrance, fingernails brushing sharp but tender along the backs of Wesley’s thighs, until Wes was panting and writhing on the bed with the burning need for more.

 

This much they’d already done, and the next bit even, so when Spike pulled his mouth back he didn’t hesitate to push two fingers, strong and determined into Wesley’s arse, and crook them forward against his prostate.

 

He used the gasp and shiver that was Wesley’s response as a distraction while he picked up the tube of lubricant with his free hand and popped the cap, squeezing some out over Wesley’s inviting opening and worked it inside with his fingers.

 

Wesley had his eyes closed so he didn’t notice what Spike had been up to, but at the first sensation of cold gel against him he shot them open and looked down at Spike, propped up on his elbows to watch two, then three fingers slide much more easily inside, and there was only a slight burn, but mostly pleasure, as they scissored and twisted within him.

 

As Spike worked his fingers around, slowly, carefully stretching Wesley, and placed small licks and almost chaste kisses to his weeping cock, the burning faded altogether.  The blinding pleasure without the pain there to temper it was looking once again like it would be too much for Wesley to bear, so he grabbed Spike’s forearm weakly between his fingers and thumb and told him so.  “I’m ready.  Please.”

 

Spike looked up into Wesley’s eyes for the first time since his attention had been diverted, and his expression was so open and so full of desire and caring, that Wesley almost had to look away.

 

“Please Spike.  I need you.  Inside.”  He wanted to ask Spike to make love to him, but he wasn’t kidding himself that they were there yet.  He felt like it sometimes, and now was one of those times, but he knew it was just the circumstances, the atmosphere.  Wasn’t it?

 

Spike licked his lips as he pushed up to his knees and looked down at Wesley, reaching for the prophylactic that he’d tossed earlier.  He was tempted to tell him something silly and girly like he’s always give Wesley what he needed, what he wanted, even cater to his every ridiculous whim, because Wesley was worth it, and deserved it, and Spike would do anything to make him happy, but he knew it was too soon for that.

 

And if he was honest, a part of him wondered if these feelings were 100% genuine, or if he was just trying to make himself look like the better option next to Wesley’s twat of a roommate, who obviously wasn’t willing to step up the plate and give Wes what he needed.  If he ever did, Spike had the sinking suspicion that he knew who Wes would choose.

 

He tried not to think those kind of thoughts though, because it was him that Wesley was with now, and Spike really, really, did like him.  More than he was probably comfortable with.

 

He pulled his hand free from Wesley and tore open the foil package, expertly sliding the condom over his engorged cock, pushing slightly into the contact despite himself, because really, anything touching his prick felt good, even his own hand wrapped in slippery latex.

 

He cast one more brief glance at Wes, and received a slow blink and a nod in return, and took himself in hand, pushing slowly into the tight heat that was Wesley, and tried urgently not to close his eyes as he did.  He was glad he was able to keep them open, or he would have missed the expressions of discomfort, determination, acceptance and finally pleasure that flittered across his face in turn.

 

And Spike wouldn’t have wanted to miss a second of it, because that was Wes, open and bare for him to take in and appreciate.  His Wes, and no one else’s.  When he was fully inside he waited for a moment, for Wesley to adjust, biting down on his tongue in an effort to keep from just pounding away like his body wanted.

 

Soon though, Wes started moving against him, pushing his hips up just a bit, then back down again, and as Spike thrust forward and back, slowly, seamlessly in a steady rhythm, Wesley started to loosen himself up, follow Spike’s movements and then they were working together towards a mutual goal, excited, but not rushed.

 

It hurt when Spike pushed in, but not enough to cancel out the pleasure that he was feeling, thanks to Spike’s cock as well as his mouth and hands and… just him.  But after a couple of thrusts he got used to it, liked it, wanted more, and he opened himself up further, pushed up against Spike’s invasion, absolutely loved the feeling of being filled.

 

When Spike started to get more forceful with his movements, Wesley started to keen.  He wasn’t quite sure why he was reacting so strongly, but the fact that Spike seemed intent on jabbing his prostate, over and over, relentlessly with each stroke, might have had something to do with it.

 

Wesley canted his hips back, grabbed Spike’s narrow ones in his hands, encouraging him to slow down, not wanting this pleasure to be over too soon.   Spike followed his direction and they set up a lazy pace against each other, designed to enhance pleasure stroke by stroke, slowly, not racing for the finish.

 

Still it wasn’t long, not half an hour if the clock by the bed was anything to go by, that Spike was feeling the warning signs of impending orgasm, and he knew it was useless to try to put it off.

 

He eased his mouth back, slowly, from where it had been attached to Wesley’s, and worked his way down his neck and over his shoulder before he separated them enough to slip a hand between their sweaty, heaving fronts, and wrap his fingers tightly around Wesley’s pulsing erection.

 

The second Spike’s fingers clamped tightly around him, Wesley lost all control, overwhelmed with delighted sensation as he tried to push up into the tight fist and down against the hardness inside him simultaneously.  Dear Lord, this really was fantastic, and Wesley couldn’t possibly imagine what would have made him wait so long as Spike worked his magical fingers over his pulsing vein and slit, folding his slick fist over and around his shaft, and worked his own erection over that spot inside him that made him feel like he was flying.

 

Spike pressed his head in close to Wesley’s again, teeth nipping at his ear, tongue darting out to lick the sweat from his neck.  “Wes.  Oh, fuck,” were the only words he was able to manage, as he pushed himself in impossibly deeper.

 

Wesley didn’t do much better, a breathy “Spiiiiike,” his eloquent answer, and then was thrashing his head from side to side, his body convulsing in what he was sure was the greatest pleasure that could ever exist, and Spike’s eye’s rolled back in his head as he gave up control and let Wesley’s clenching passage drag his orgasm from him in tight, sure pulses.

 

He collapsed to the bed, on top of his lover, damp, overheated heads touching, barely, as they panted against each other, working up the energy and breath for any sort of speech or movement.

 

When Wesley started to show signs that he was recovered, and having some trouble getting the proper amount of oxygen in their present position, Spike regretfully shifted out of Wesley and lay beside him. He pulled off the condom and knotted the top before tossing on the floor, then let his hand stroke lovingly over Wesley’s leg and hip.

 

“God, sweetheart,” Spike breathed out, warm and sweet in Wesley’s ear.  “That was the best fuckin’ thing I have ever felt.  You. Are. Amazing.”  He punctuated each word with a kiss to Wesley’s chest as his hand worked higher so that it was cradling his ribs in a possessive embrace.

 

“Mmmmm,” Wesley agreed, melting into the mattress and Spike’s languid caress, and soon they were both dozing off, happy and hopeful and sticky.

 

They woke several hours later, and a few after that, and over the course of the night they made love, even if they wouldn’t admit that’s what it was, two more times, and as the soft red light of dawn made itself known through the pale yellow curtains of Spike’s bedroom, Wesley said his temporary goodbyes, and kissed Spike passionately and lengthily on the mouth, then made his way back to the campus and his own room… and Lindsey.

 

***

 

Lindsey didn’t get much sleep Thursday night.  It was 2:30 in the morning, and he had been tossing and turning for two hours, wondering why Wesley wasn’t home yet, hating the conclusions he was jumping to, and hating himself for his reactions to those conclusions, because his reactions meant that he couldn’t kid himself anymore about how he really felt.

 

He’d started noticing things about Wes after the first time they fucked.  Nothing big, and nothing specific, but something about him seemed different.  And he knew that it wasn’t Wes himself that was any different than he ever was, not really, but the way Lindsey was looking at him was.  And it was more than just lust, because that would have been easy to deal with.  But what Lindsey was feeling now, had been feeling all along, really, was something he was terrified to face.

 

Well, apparently he had been able to remove his head from his ass enough to finally admit that all the hostility and avoidance of the past few days was because he actually liked Wes, wanted him, and not only because he was pissed off at not being able to screw anymore.

 

It was a fairly major revelation, and one that didn’t sit all that well, which was probably why his head hadn’t been pulled far enough out of his ass for him to think about following through on it.  He wasn’t sure that he was prepared to face up to everything that having a relationship with a man would mean.

 

He tossed again, and turned some more, and thought the same dumb-ass thoughts over and over, and might have nodded off for a few minutes at a time in between his bouts of confused self-loathing, but he couldn’t really be sure.

 

The door to the room opened at some point, and Lindsey opened his eyes enough to watch Wesley come in, kick his shoes off and drop down onto his own bed, hands behind his head, and close his eyes.  Lindsey wasn’t sure what time it was – he was too lazy to turn his head around and look at the clock – but there was a stream of mellow light shining through the crack under the window shade so it must have been morning.

 

Wesley had spent the entire night with Spike.  Lindsey wanted to throw up.

 

Lindsey didn’t know how much time past, an hour maybe, and he been watching Wesley sleep the whole time, wondering what exactly had happened with Spike, what Wes looked like when they did whatever they did, what sounds he made.  Was it anything like what it had been like between himself and Wesley?  Or was it more than that because Spike wasn’t afraid to admit to what he felt, to show Wesley he was more than just convenient?

 

Eventually Wesley began to stir and Lindsey sat up in his bed and turned on the television for some sort of distraction that would give him a plausible excuse not to speak to Wesley, because he didn’t think he could handle it at the moment.

 

“Good morning,” Wesley said, more cheerfully than was probably expected under the circumstances, and Lindsey turned to look at him.

 

“Hey,” he returned, but it came out more of a grunt than an actual word.

 

Wesley didn’t seem to notice or care that Lindsey was acting just as pissy as ever because he stretched and got up, and hummed, hummed to himself as he opened the window shades and turned on the small coffee maker on the dresser.

 

“Want some?” he asked Lindsey, indicating the tin of grinds that he was spooning out into the filter.  Lindsey made a face and shook his head, and Wesley only smiled and shrugged and stripped his shirt off, tossing in the direction of the laundry.

 

Something about the way Wes moved when he did that, not quite as fluid as usual, like he was taking extra care not to jerk or stretch too much, made Lindsey pay more attention to him.  He watched as he moved around the room, clearing up some of the mess that had accumulated through the natural course of life, getting his bowl of cereal, pouring his coffee, humming.

 

Yeah, something had happened last night that made Lindsey feel like a solid weight had materialised inside his gut, and instead of ignoring it, or admitting to the hurt, he did what he always did.  He lashed out.

 

“You’re in a pretty good mood.  What happened?  Finally take it up the ass?” he guessed, and accurately if Wesley’s shocked outrage was anything to go by.

 

Wesley stared a moment, too flabbergasted by what Lindsey had just said to say anything in return, but when the power of speech came back to him, his mouth turned into a hard line, and all the kindness that usually existed in his eyes was gone.

 

“What?” he asked, with a sneer.  “Pissed because you didn’t get there first?”

 

Lindsey didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to.  The hurt that flittered across his face before he was able to carefully hide it behind a mask of snide indifference was clear as day, and Wesley hadn’t missed it.  He softened his own expression, not quite sure how to process that new piece of information and turned his attention away from Lindsey and to the convenient television and his bowl of All Bran.

 

God, Lindsey could just not be more of a moron if he tried.  Yes, Wesley was right, he was pissed at Wes because it hadn’t been him that Wesley had let do that to him.  He’d asked, he’d been turned down, and apparently Spike was good enough to go there and Lindsey wasn’t.

 

He was also pissed at himself, because really, it was completely his own fault.  If he would have just told Wes how he felt two weeks ago, if he had even realised it himself, things would be different.  He wasn’t stupid enough to picture them living happily ever after, or diving right into a committed relationship, but Wes might have understood his confusion, and they might have been able to work though it, together.

 

Instead he had been an ass, and Wes had found someone else.  He needed to deal with that, and stop taking out his impossible feelings on his roommate, because it wasn’t Wesley’s fault that he was a complete fuck up.

 

He got up to get his own breakfast, left over Thai from the fridge, and crashed back down onto his bed, pretending to watch the flickering television screen.

 

***