RockStarPeach

Happy Birthday speak_me_fair ! Okay, so it was a couple of days ago. I suck. Sorry I'm late, honey. *hugs* I know you said Spike/Wes, but you didn't say what you wanted, so I hope this is okay. Also, there are hints of Wes/Angel, and I think you said before you liked that (or I hope you did and I'm not just making it up to make myself feel better about this *g*).

Title: Two Guys Walk Into a Bar

Pairing: Spike/Wes, hints of Wes/Angel

Rating: Adult

Summary: “You had sex last night with a bleached blond.”

 

Two Guys Walk Into a Bar

Wesley played his fingers idly over the neck of beer bottle, lifting it slightly every now and again and swirling it around, making pretty rings of condensation on the worn wood surface of the bar.

He’d played and won two games of darts, but it didn’t seem to hold as much interest for him today as it usually did, nor did the prospect of female companionship. Oh, he didn’t get the opportunity often, mind, but every once in a while, when he was feeling particularly brave he’d work up the courage to give some pretty young lady the eye, and contrary to popular opinion, he did manage some company every now and then.

He was too distracted by whatever was going on with Angel, worried for his friend’s state of mind, and angry that the rest of them, himself and Charles and Cordelia and the rest of the world, were forgotten in the face of his growing obsession with his long-dusted sire.

It hurt that Angel was blowing them off like he was, blowing Wesley off. Angel was Wesley’s hero, the one he could always look to when he didn’t know what to do, or how to solve a problem, and Angel would always swoop in, handsome and brave and saying something utterly collected and brilliant, and they would all save the day, together.

He’d always known, he supposed, if he were honest with himself, which he was inclined to be at the moment, that he’d had something of a crush on the vampire, but it hadn’t ever been real before now. Hadn’t been something that he could easily define or put his finger on, and he’d never understood exactly what his feelings were or what he wanted out of them.

But Angel had known, Wesley was pretty sure, how Wesley felt about him long before Wesley himself did. It wasn’t until two weeks ago, when he’d woken Angel from a sleep filled with dreams he didn’t really want to know about, and found himself pinned and unable to draw breath under a very naked Angel that his true desire hit him.

Angel must have seen it in his eyes, and he held Wesley down for just a little too long and squeezed his throat just a little too tight and pushed his cock, erect from the dreams and thoughts about Darla, against his leg, and then he got up. Let Wesley go and stood in front of him completely unfazed by his state of undress and offered him a fucking hand up and acted like it was nothing.

For him it probably was.

And that was what was really bothering Wesley tonight. Angel would never see him as anything more than a devoted sidekick, or a goofy friend, and Wesley knew that that wasn’t anything new, but it suddenly seemed to be bothering him more than it should have been.

So when the very attractive woman, who’d been sitting at a table earlier with the second man he’d trounced at darts, smiled at him and waved, delicate little fingers wiggling around on her raised hand, he barely took the time to blink at her before walking away and finding himself a seat at the bar.

As ridiculous as it was, ever since he’d felt Angel’s strong, coolly dominant hands on him, holding him down and forcing him to admit what he really wanted from the vampire, what he’d wanted all along, and probably always would, no matter what else happened between then, he hadn’t been in the mood for ‘feminine’ and ‘gentle’.

He’d hardly had two sips of his drink, but he wasn’t that thirsty anyway, and he nudged it forward across the damp bar with the intention of standing, going home and trying not to think about Angel there, and leaving the unfinished beverage behind him.

He had gotten as far in his plan as unhooking his right foot from the footrest of his barstool, and placing his hands on the surface in front of him and preparing to push off, when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

It gripped him, hard, forcing him back down into his chair, but it didn’t hurt and Wesley turned his head, first to the left, then to the right, and looked at the man behind him, thin, stark blond hair and black leather jacket, and narrowed his eyes, trying to remember where he’d seen the other man before as he allowed himself to pushed down.

***

Life was pretty shit for Spike. He had that sodding chip in his head that prevented him from feeding or fighting or killing or all sorts of merry doings. Couldn’t hurt anymore, humans at least, and killing demons to get his rocks off was starting to get a little old.

Oh, it was still fun, and he’d still do it when he got the chance, but he was starting to feel just a little too close to being part of the Slayer’s little Scooby gang, and he figured getting out of town for a while so she couldn’t see that he was helping her out would be a good thing when it came to saving a little face.

Sure, he was a harmless little puppy now, but Buffy didn’t need to know he was on her side, even if it was only by default.

So he’d gotten in his DeSotto and driven up the coast and didn’t quite understand why he’d pulled off the highway at the second exit to Los Angelus. It was probably because LA was a big city, lots of other-wordly shit going down and a hell of a night life, and Spike could fit it, raise a little hell and party like it was 1999 (which, by the way, was such a better party than he’d been at in 1899) and basically live it up until he got bored, or run out of town or ran out of money and had to head back to the watcher and play nice for a bit of dosh.

It was definitely not because he knew Angel was there. Nope. No way, no hell.

He’d gotten to town three days ago.

Since then he’d spent the daylight hours sleeping in his car, parked two blocks down and three over to the Hyperion, and spent the darkness looking in windows and circling the hotel and watching and listening to and following Angel and his little gang, and fuck, unless he needed to get his eyes checked, and he was pretty sure vampires didn’t, he’d seen Darla once or twice.

Wasn’t she dust?

Oh well, the dead walking and talking and shagging wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before, so he pretty much forgot all about it once a certain young ex-watcher caught his eye.

Wesley Wyndham-Pryce was fucking sexy as hell and stuffy in just the right way that he’d like to un-stuff him, so to speak, and he was a watcher, or a former one anyway, and he’d recently discovered just how phenomenal watchers could be. Best of all, he was Angel’s.

Oh, the man didn’t know it, and Angel was trying to deny it, but the guy belonged to him, and in the face of his sever boredom and moderate inebriation and near overwhelming ADHD, he worked out that he owed Angel a little bit of payback in the ‘nothing will ever be yours’ department.

So he’d followed the young man out one night, after he’d left the hotel, left Angel, feeling particularly vulnerable, and Spike had smiled to himself as the man headed out on foot, and Spike took to the non-existent shadows, stalking the man to a nearby pub.

He’d pissed around for a while, chatting with people and playing darts and ignoring one or two luscious young things that had cast an eye his way, and he was finally sitting at the bar, moping and sulking and pretending to drink.

When he got up to leave not long after he sat down, Spike thought it was about time he made his move. He crossed the room lightening-fast from his hiding place in a dark corner to Wesley’s back and forced him back down into his stool, smiling a bright smile, and careful to let just the right amount of fang show so that the man knew what he was dealing with.

Just because Spike knew he was helpless against humans, didn’t mean this guy did, not yet anyway, and he could use any advantage he could get.

***

Wesley almost didn’t register the slightly elongated canines or the almost imperceptible ridging of the stranger’s forehead, but he was certain that those eyes looked familiar. It was obvious he was dealing with a vampire, but Wesley thought it best to go with the flow and find out what he wanted. He was a lot more Zen than Angel in that respect, and he prided himself on his recent onset of open-mindedness.

He could swear that they’d met before, but couldn’t have said where he knew the vampire from, as the blond sat down on the stool next to his and signalled the bartender over, ordering something Wesley didn’t quite catch as he was still wracking his brain and trying to tamp down the flare of lust that crept through him at the other’s commanding touch.

He was fairly certain he wouldn’t be successful in either endeavour, but he wasn’t particularly concerned.

“Well?” Spike said with a raised eyebrow, as he slid the high-ball glass filled with whiskey and ice toward Wesley and the man just continued to stare dumbly at him.

“What?” Wesley asked, shaking his head and trying to concentrate. He was pretty sure the guy had been trying to talk with him. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

The blond laughed, genuinely it seemed, and nodded at the glass in front of Wesley. “I said, it doesn’t seem like you’re interested in what you’ve got going,” he said, eyes darting to Wesley’s beer. “So I thought you might want to try something new.”

Spike thought that a club over the head would have been less obvious than that telling statement, but then again, this man didn’t know who he was or that he’d been watching both him and Angel for days and knew all about what exactly Wesley had, or didn’t have, going on.

Wesley wasn’t a moron, and he always knew when he was being hit on. Okay, so the first part was true anyway, but even he couldn’t miss the signals the blond was sending his way, the leers and the winks and the too long touches. And he was pretty sure he wasn’t interested.

Or he was, until the demon in front of him knocked back his own drink, throat contracting and releasing around the beverage as he closed his eyes in near ecstasy at the flavour, then grinned at Wesley, eyes sinfully flirty, and licked his lips, slowly and provocatively.

“I… I don’t…” Wesley started, not knowing how he seemed to have lost the power of coherent speech, but he had the fleeting thought that it might have been swallowed up by his suitor’s sex appeal.

“Nonsense,” Spike told him, “Sure you do.” He held up Wesley’s glass for him to take and when the man reached out to accept it from him he let his fingers linger a little bit longer than necessary under the warm ones before he let go and watched Wesley take a drink.

Oh, this was going to be fun. Especially if Angel found out.

“That’s the spirit,” Spike congratulated with a pleased expression and a friendly elbow to Wesley’s bicep and signalled the bartender for another round.

***

It wasn’t fifteen minutes later that Wesley and the blond vampire had drunk another 4 drinks and Wesley was beginning to forget himself. It was really starting to not matter that this man was a vampire or that he was probably evil and might even kill him or that he wasn’t the vampire he wanted to be spending an evening drinking and talking and laughing with.

None of that mattered, not even the fact that he couldn’t quite place the blond, even though he knew he really should be able to, because the demon had very clearly sought him out, made no secret of his interests and talked and listened and looked at Wesley like he wanted to devour him, in more ways than one, and Wesley was far too weak to turn away that kind of intense attention.

So instead of worrying about all the reasons he shouldn’t still be there he was focussing on enjoying the way the vampire was smiling at him and gently, almost timidly, touching his arm and fingers when he spoke, in that soothing, sex-soaked voice of his.

Wesley honestly hadn’t thought he was so easy, but it was probably a mixture of the drink and the man beside him and the way he was feeling about Angel lately that made him feel like he’d do anything the blond asked. If only he’d ask. Oh, God, please let him ask.

But he didn’t. He only talked and drank and smiled and made Wesley feel all fluttery inside at the same time as making him want to throw the demon down on the bar and fuck him into next week.

He didn’t, of course, only waited until the need that he’d let build up in the back of his imagination was too great and grabbed the glass from the other man when it was halfway to his mouth placing it back on the bar, saying, “Do you want to get out of here?”

Spike breathed a sigh of relief that he hoped wasn’t as obvious as it felt, and tossed back the remainder of his drink. It was about fucking time. If he had to sit there and make idle chit chat for very much longer he was going to… well, okay there was nothing he could do, really, what with the chip making his more violent activities impossible. But he’d have ditched the watcher because he was pretty sure that tight little harlot across the room that had been staring at his ass since he’d walked in was a sure thing, and Spike had never had a lot of patience.

It was much better this way, though, because getting to shag Angel’s favourite little pet was bound to be worth at least a little bit of trouble. And it wasn’t like it was a hardship, exactly, talking with the bloke; for all his tendency toward action Spike did like to just sit and talk every once in a while, but the way the man moved and talked and breathed and the deep, unmistakable scents of lust coming off him in waves were driving Spike crazy.

His cock was already trying to poke its way out of his jeans, and thinking about Angel’s reaction when he found out, which he probably would, made his pants feel painfully tight.

He groaned and stood up, grabbing Wesley by the arm, and pulling the man against him, briefly, soaking in his warmth, and planting a hard, swift kiss on his lips before pushing him in the direction of the door and following behind, tossing a stack of bills down on the counter to cover their tab.

***

“My name’s Wesley,” Wesley said, and wondered why he hadn’t introduced himself before now. It was rather rude of him, wasn’t it? To spend half an hour conversing with someone and then to offer to take them home and let them kiss you and not even introduce yourself? Yes, that was rude. Father would be so disappointed.

“’S nice to meet you, Wesley,” Spike answered, placing a hand on the man’s thigh and sliding it across to rest on Wesley’s erection, squeezing once, just hard enough that it didn’t hurt, and smacked it lightly before he took his hand back.

The taxi pulled up then, in front of Wesley’s building and he grabbed some money from his wallet, handing it to the driver before stumbling out of the car, looking back at the blond to see that he was following.

Spike was led into the building and up the stairs and down the hall and he waited until Wesley had turned his key in the lock and was pushing the door open before placing a hand on his shoulder and turning him around.

“Mine’s Spike, luv,” Spike told him, waiting to see if the name meant anything to the man.

Wesley smiled, somewhat dazedly and stepped back into his home, leaning across the threshold to plant a sloppy kiss on Spike’s lips. “Come in, Spike,” he didn’t hesitate to say, and as drunk and horny as he was he knew was something very wrong with him if he was just going around inviting strange vampires into his home.

Spike was surprised, and kind of offended, that the watcher hadn’t recognised him or his name, but he didn’t let it show. He leered at the man and swaggered forward, wrapping his arms around him and continuing the sloppy kiss Wesley had cut off seconds before, kicking the door shut behind him with a heavy boot.

“Right then,” he said, pulling back just enough to work his hands between their bodies and started to pull Wesley’s shirt up and over his head. “Let’s get to the shagging.”

Wesley moaned and agreed, whole-heartedly, if only in his head, and did the same to Spike, touching and kissing and licking every inch of bared skin as it became available. He tasted good. Salty and sweet, and the little sounds coming from him and way his body twitched and relaxed under his touch made Wesley brave.

He worked the blond’s pants open and down over his legs, sinking to the floor in front of him, looking up at his face briefly before moving forward to take the leaking tip of his hard prick into his mouth.

“Fuck, watcher!” Spike cried out, pushing forward and making Wesley gag a little, but tried desperately to still his movements, because if he hurt Wesley the pain in his own head was really going to spoil the mood.

Wesley was absurdly pleased that he’d elicited such a reaction and didn’t manage to stop his lips trying to turn up at the corners of his mouth around the huge cock, and he was about to get back to work, to see what else he could make Spike do and say, when something struck him.

He pulled back and looked up again at the blond, head tilted back, look of pure pleasure on his face, and waited until he noticed he had stopped.

It took a few seconds, but Spike looked down, frowning and puzzled and was about to pull Wesley’s head forward again, and stuff himself back inside that warm, wet mouth of his, when Wesley spoke.

“How did you know I was a watcher?” he asked, slightly worried, because if Spike knew who he was already, then there was a good chance he didn’t pick him up for nothing but a good shag. And… oh fuck! He was a moron! Spike! He’d been alone, at the bar, in his home, with William the Bloody for almost an hour now and he’d not even noticed!

Well, it would serve him right for being so completely thick if he got eaten tonight. Still, he was hoping it wouldn’t come to that.

He scrambled back, falling ungracefully onto his backside as he did, but quickly stood, taking two quick steps back, but not running away entirely. He was fairly proud of himself for that, at least.

“What the hell?” Spike asked, uncertain why the man had suddenly stopped and gone from horny to scared shitless in about 3 seconds.

“What do you want?” Wesley asked, trying to keep his voice level, but he was sure it came out squeaky and high pitched.

“Well,” Spike said, as if he were talking to someone very dim. “I was thinking maybe you could finish that blow job, and then stick your dick up my arse.” Were watchers getting stupider these days, or was it just him?

“I know who you are, Spike,” Wesley said, sounding braver than he felt. “And I know you’re never up to anything good. So just tell what you’re doing here.” He took one small half step in the direction of the telephone, intending to call Angel and get him over here as fast as possible, but Spike’s voice, cold and low and deadly, stopped him.

“I could kill you before you even started dialling,” Spike told him. “Don’t want to though,” he continued lightly, tilting his head to one side as though considering his options. “’M thinking we can have a bit of fun here, the two of us.”

He moved closer to Wesley, impressed when the man didn’t back up, and stopped when they were almost touching. “Just want a shag, pet,” he said, leaning forward to lick a stripe up the side of Wesley’s neck, delighting in the shiver of lust and fear that ran through the mortal.

Okay, Spike really had to stop. Stop being so sexy and so seductive and looking at him like that and talking like that and touching him like that. He just really needed to stop. Because Wesley knew he should be terrified, was terrified, but he was also turned on, and the mix of the two emotions was making him weak in the knees.

Besides, he thought, rationally, if Spike wanted to kill him, he would have by now. Or if he wanted to kill him after the sex there was nothing Wesley could do about that anymore, because he’d gone and let Spike in, and now he was pretty much at the demon’s mercy. If he had any.

“I…” Wesley stammered, eyes closed and pushing his hips forward, unconsciously. “Get away from me.”

Spike laughed out loud at that and only moved closer, so that they were pressed against each other from torso to knee. “Not very convincing,” he chastised, and kissed Wesley again, not at all surprised when the man responded eagerly.

He didn’t waste the opportunity to strip them both of their clothing, quickly, and didn’t bother trying to get the man to finish the blow job like he’d wanted, because he figured any kind of dallying would cost him his prize. Wesley’s consent at the moment was dubious, at best, and even if he didn’t have the chip Spike didn’t want to force him. That was just no fun.

Wesley had given up his feeble protest, allowing Spike to manhandle him down to his living room floor, naked and panting and reaching out, desperate for Spike’s touch. It was pathetic, really, what Wesley turned into when someone showed him he was wanted.

He blinked, and Spike was naked over him, straddling his thighs and working his own hard prick in one hand, Wesley’s in the other. He pumped up into the hand, gasping wordlessly, silently begging for Spike not to stop, begging for more.

Spike didn’t bother with any more preparation, didn’t have the time or motivation really, and lifted himself up, then sunk down on Wesley’s erection, both of them crying out a little at the pain of Wesley going in with nothing but a little pre-cum to slick the way, but it was nothing compared to the pain that Spike would have felt if they did this the other way around.

It wasn’t long though before Spike adjusted to the thickness and they were moving fast against each other, Spike lifting and dropping himself, still sliding his right hand over his own aching dick, Wesley holding Spike’s hips and pushing up as hard as he could.

There was wordless babble coming from both of them, and as Spike neared his climax he bent forward and buried his face in Wesley’s neck, fangs elongating and desperate to pierce the tender flesh below them.

He felt Wesley tumble over the edge first, felt his rhythm falter and felt the warm spend inside him, and when he heard Wesley shout out, “Oh, God, Spike… fuck!” he couldn’t have held back if he’d wanted to.

He ground himself down as hard as he could, arse seated fully against Wesley’s skin and he jerked his hand half a dozen more times and shot his load out over his hand and Wesley’s stomach, and couldn’t stop himself from pressing his mouth forward, just a touch to break the delicate skin on top of Wesley’s pulse point with sharp fangs.

Either it didn’t hurt when Spike didn’t want it to, or Wesley was too far gone to notice, because Spike felt nothing but pleasure when tiny droplets of blood welled to the surface and over his tongue, and he immediately started to suck, gently pulling long, slow draughts into his mouth and down in throat.

As Wesley came down off his orgasmic high he vaguely registered an odd sort of pressure on his neck, and just as he was about to realise that Spike’s face was pressed against him, just as he was about to panic, the odd pressure exploded into almost unbearable pleasure as Spike sucked the life from him, and once again started moving on top of him, hips rolling lazily to give added stimulation to the bite.

He was going to die, and he was finding it extremely difficult to care.

But then Spike pulled back, looked at him and smiled a human smile, with blood, Wesley’s blood, coating his lips and teeth and Wesley leaned up and kissed him, chasing the metallic taste with his tongue and then collapsed back onto the carpet, breathing a deep, satisfied breath.

Spike slowly slid off of Wesley and stood, more gracefully than anyone should have any right to after the buggering he’d taken, and smirked down at the dazed young man before quickly dressing, neither taking their eyes off of each other.

Wesley pushed himself up so that he was sitting with his back against the couch, because now on top of being drunk and shagged out, he was light-headed from blood loss, and he couldn’t possibly have stood up, but at least sitting like this was a little more dignified than laying sprawled on the floor.

Spike swept down and kissed him once more, hard and possessive and pulled back, licking his lips. “Tell Angel I said ‘hi’,” he suggested, and with a wink turned, coat puffing up behind him, and left the apartment without looking back.

***

“It was Darla,” Angel insisted, the next day at the hotel. “She’s back, and she’s human now, but I know her scent.”

“Angel,” Wesley said, disbelieving. He knew vampires had an above average sense of smell, but there was nothing in all the Watcher’s research to suggest that it was that good. “You can’t just… sniff a person and know…”

He trailed off as his boss leaned closer to him, too close for comfort and yet not close enough, and he froze as Angel sniffed him slightly and backed away as if he went around sniffing his friends every day.

“You had sex last night with a bleached blond,” Angel told him, showing off, Wesley had not doubt, and, he suspected, suppressing a smirk.

“Good Lord!” Wesley exclaimed, mouth open and eyes wide, in surprise that Angel had been able to sense that, and terror that he’d know exactly who the blond had been. “How’d you…”

And maybe Wesley had been wrong about Angel being indifferent to him and what he did, because if he wasn’t too much mistaken he could have sworn that Angel shot him a brief, dark look, and growled at him just before he turned away.

He swallowed and blinked and a shiver ran down his spine before he shook his head and managed a glare at Cordelia when she squeaked out, “That’s unbelievable! I didn’t think you ever had sex.”

And then it was back to business, for the time being at least, but Wesley was pretty sure that Angel would still be weighing in on recent events. After he’d resolved his own problems of course. Selfish jerk.

Wesley wondered if he should track Spike down and warn him…

END

Continued