RockStarPeach

This was written as a mod challenge over at nekid_spike  for the always lovely tibialisant, who asked me for someone holding Spike captive, and then for Spike to seduce him.  She didn’t specify who, but I decided to out on a limb (heh) and pick Angel.  It’s nowhere near as dark and dirty as I’m sure you were hoping for, honey, but hopefully you’ll like it anyway!

 

Title:  Playing With Fire

 

Pairing:  Spike/Angel, Wesley makes an appearance

 

Rating:  Adult

 

Summary:  After Spike loses his soul, Angel decides it’s best to chain him up, for everyone’s good.  Spike gets bored, and decides to have a little fun with Angel.  Angel has a little fun back.

 

 

***

 

Spike rolled his eyes as Angel clicked the second cuff closed, this one around his right wrist, and tested the strength of the flimsy lock between his fingers.  Angel could have broken it easily, if he’d tried, which meant that so could Spike.  He sighed and dropped Spike’s hand, backing up and looking over at Wesley, who stepped forward, and placed his hand over the metal, murmuring a few lines of Latin.

 

“Is this really necessary?” he asked, sounding almost bored as he held up his hands.  Who knew how long this was going to take, and he didn’t fancy spending the next week or so chained up in Angel’s penthouse until they could manage to get Willow back from whatever astral plan she happened to be vacationing on.

 

“Until we can put your soul back,” Wesley answered for Angel.  “Yes, Spike.  I think it’s best.  It’s not that I don’t trust you…”

 

“I don’t,” Angel helpfully interrupted, sounding a little too happy about Spike’s predicament. 

 

“I think,” Wesley said warningly, and shooting a glare in Angel’s direction.  “That this is a case of better safe than sorry.  We wouldn’t want you getting carried away and doing something you’ll regret later.”

 

“Oh, come on,” Spike complained.  “It’s not like I’m the only soulless vamp you’ve got running around here.  You let Harmony come and go as she pleases, and God knows, if anyone needs a bloody muzzle…”

 

“Be that as it may, you have a more… shall we say… colourful, past.  And our other vampire employees have proven that they can control themselves.”

 

Spike scowled at Wesley and petulantly yanked on one of the long chains, uncoiling it slightly so that it jingled against the floor.  They were long.  Really long.  Long enough that Spike had pretty much the run of the living room, could sit on the couch, watch Angel’s television, could reach the bar.  Angel had even brought in Spike’s Nintendo, and stocked up on snacks and O neg.  As far as prisons go, there could be worse places.  Still, it was the principle of the thing, and staying in one room for so long would get boring in a hurry.

 

“What he means,” Angel said, folding his arms across his chest and looking smug.  “Is you’re a blood-thirsty psychopath, and we can’t let you off your leash until we’re sure you won’t slaughter half the city.”

 

“Hey!” Spike barked, taking irrational offence at that.  He was Spike, for fuck’s sake.  William the Bloody.  He was supposed to be proud to be a ruthless killer.  Still, he’d changed since then.  Plus there was always the ‘Spike is better than Angel’ game, which never really got old.  “I did better without my soul that you ever did with yours, old man.”

 

“Stop complaining, Spike, or I’ll lock you up in one of the holding cells downstairs.”

 

“You wouldn’t,” Spike said, narrowing his eyes and taking a step closer to Angel.

 

“Try me,” Angel countered, and matched Spike’s step threateningly, chest all puffed up and manly, as if he was in any way intimidating, and nearly brushing against Spike’s.  It wasn’t scary, which was almost mildly disappointing, but it was a little bit hot.  Him and Angelus had had some good times, back in the day.

 

Spike pressed even closer and his fist clenched at his side, ready to lean back and swing, but he was a second too late, and Angel grabbed a handful of the front of his shirt, and pushed him back against the wall.

 

“Boys!” Wesley’s clear and solid voice rang out, causing them both to start, and Angel to pull back, letting Spike go with one final shove.  “Better.  Now, Angel, I believe we have work to do?” he said, voice lilting up at the end as if it was a question, when all three of them knew it was more of an order.

 

Angel sighed and nodded, took another step back, and with a parting “You better not break anything,” turned and headed for his elevator.

 

Wesley gave Spike a tight, and slightly sympathetic, smile.  “Try to behave Spike, please,” said.  “When you rile Angel up, it’s the rest of us that have to pay.”  

 

Spike heaved a sigh, as if by not pissing Angel off he would be doing Wesley a huge favour at great personal expense, but nodded anyway.  He was right, after all.  He kind of liked Wes, and Charlie and Fred, and while he might eat them if the mood struck, he wouldn’t want them subjected to Angel in an even worse mood than usual.

 

“Thank you,” Wesley told him, and then the elevator pinged, signalling its arrival, and Wesley followed Angel into it, the two disappearing behind the closing doors, and leaving Spike alone with his Jack and his Donkey Kong.

 

***

 

Spike was right.  He got bored.  Fast.

 

A couple hours of video games, an action movie or two, and a half a bottle of whisky later, he was flopped down on Angel’s couch, feet propped up on the coffee table and absently watching the credits roll on the television screen, wondering what the hell he should do next.

 

He hated being caged up like this, even if it was in a seriously sweet penthouse apartment, with all the amenities.  It was past sunset and he wanted to get out, wanted to kill something.  Wanted to fuck something.  Wanted to roll around in blood and swallow it down.

 

Fuck, maybe Percy had been right when he’d suggested they restrain him until he got his soul back.  Stupid fucking demons with their stupid fucking soul sucking.  He wasn’t even sure what kind it had been.  Hadn’t been paying attention, as per usual.  One second he and Angel were fighting it in a sewer, spending more effort trading insults with each other than keeping up a good defence against the demon, and the next, BAM.  No more soul.  The fact that Angel had managed to kill the little bastard right after was the only reason that it was possible to gets Spike’s soul back at all.

 

And it kind of ticked him off that he even wanted it back.  Things were so much simpler without one.  Or, they used to be, at any rate.

 

So, his immense boredom, hunger, horniness and slight drunkenness, all mixed up with his vague promise to Wes to keep Angel on the less than murderous side, gave him an idea.  Angel had blood, and Angel had a penis, and he wasn’t horrible to look at, despite the few pounds he’d put on recently, and a tumble with His Broodiness might just take the edge off for the both of them.

 

Only thing was, he wanted to have a little fun.  Make Angel crazy for it, make Angel beg.  And what better way to do that, than for Spike to get caught stripped naked and shamelessly beating off on the forehead’s couch.

 

His boots and pants came off easily, but his shirt was somewhat more of a pain in the arse.  Both his wrists were cuffed, and attached at the other end of the chain to the far wall, and sure he could get the t-shirt up over his head, but unless he wanted to tear it, it was going to look pretty stupid just hanging out around the chains.

 

So, he went for the slightly less stupid option of leaving it on.  He plopped back down on the couch and took himself lazily in one hand, absently stroking up and down over his semi-hard cock while he thumbed the remote with the other hand, searching for something to watch on telly, to pass the time until Angel got back.

 

He didn’t have to wait long, which was a good thing, because he couldn’t find anything worth watching besides re-runs of Dawson’s Creek, and he couldn’t seem leave his dick alone, pumping it relentlessly until he was almost at the point of orgasm.  And he really wanted to wait until Angel was around for that.

 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Angel gasped, after the elevator doors closed behind him, and he’d crossed half the apartment to stand next to the couch.  And Spike, jerking off on said couch.

 

“Wot the fuck’s it look like?” Spike asked him.  “I know it’s been a while, Angel, but this is a little something us folk with libidos like to call ‘getting off’.”

 

“But,” Angel stammered, trying to keep his face stern while his mouth fell open and his eyes fixated on Spike’s groin.  “But you’re doing it on my couch.”

 

“Well, yeah,” Spike agreed, only barely managing to leave off the ‘Duh’.  “’Suppose I could do it over there on the bar, but seein’ as I can’t reach the bed ‘cos of these bloody chains and all, I figured this was the best place.”

 

“Could you maybe, I don’t know, Stop?” Angel asked, sounding annoyed and frustrated.  So, pretty much normal for Angel, then.

 

Spike just smiled at him, let his legs fall further apart, and moved his hand up and down once in a slow, lazy motion.  “Nope,” he said, then licked his lips obscenely.

 

Angel swallowed and snapped his gaze back up to Spike’s face, his own hardening in anger when he saw Spike’s smirk.  “Wesley told you not to piss me off.”

 

That actually made Spike stop moving for a moment, his eyes going wide, and then crinkling in genuine amusement.  “Seriously?  You’re going to go tattle to the Watcher on me, because I’m jerking one off on your sofa?”

 

Angel’s face softened slightly and his eyebrows drew together, as if he was thinking about just how very stupid that sounded, and it seemed like he agreed, because after a few seconds he let out a heavy breath and walked away.

 

“Fine,” he said, from somewhere, probably his bedroom, or the bathroom, Spike wasn’t looking.  “But you’d better not mess up my couch.”

 

The command was followed by some muted grumbling, and Spike smiled to himself as he heard the bathroom door close, and the shower start up.

 

He let himself go and turned up the telly, listening to random characters prattle about their sad little teenage problems.  Didn’t start touching himself again until Angel came back out, almost half an hour later, no doubt hoping that Spike would have finished.

 

“Spike!” Angel barked a minute later, when he came back into the living room, dressed in a pair of his froofy silk pyjama pants.

 

“Oh, there you are,” Spike said, looking up at him, and wrapping his hand around his now soft cock.  “Was beginning to think you didn’t want to watch.”

 

Angel growled, barely audible except to Spike’s heightened hearing.  “I don’t,” he ground out, and Spike could actually hear his teeth grind against east other.

 

Spike’s smirk grew, and he tightened his fist, moaned an exaggerated moan when he heard Angel’s unnecessary breath catch, and flicked his thumb over the head of his hardening cock.  “Yeah, right.  Don’t look interested at all.”

 

“Spike,” Angel said, and the word came out a tight hiss, Angel’s fists balled up at his sides, and Spike knew he was pushing it.  He also knew he was so very, very close to victory.

 

“Hey, you don’t have to just watch, pet,” Spike said, gripping his cock at the base, and sliding his middle finger down, slipping it between his cheeks, a vulgar invitation, should Angel choose to take advantage of it.  “It’s even better when it’s a team sport.”

 

“Spike,” Angel growled.  Again.  And didn’t move.  He was cracking though, Spike could tell.  The tick in his jaw, the tightness in his shoulders.  The outline of his rapidly hardening cock underneath black silk pants.  He was so easy, it almost wasn’t even fun.

 

Spike shrugged and pumped faster, tilted his head back against the couch cushion.  “Suit yourself.  Actually, now that I recall, I’m probably better off on my own.  You never were what I’d call… generous, in the bedroom.”

 

He closed his eyes, and smiled when he saw the tick in Angel’s jaw.  Oh yeah.  That hit home, alright.  Insult Angel’s sexual prowess, and the tosser would be bending over backward to prove you wrong.  Or, you know.  Bending Spike over backward, which would be even better.

 

He moaned as his fingers skimmed his balls, and his thumb and forefinger created a tight ring around his cock.  He kept his ears open though, heard when Angel moved forward, heard the sharp intake of his breath, smelt his arousal.

 

“Spike…”

 

He opened his eyes then, saw Angel standing right in front of him and a lazy smile spread over his face.  “See something you like?” he asked, instead of making fun of Angel for being such a moron that the only word he seemed to be able to managed was Spike’s name.

 

“Turn the fuck over.”

 

Spike paused in his movements and raised his eyebrow.  “Well, that doesn’t exactly sound like a friendly invite.  Why don’t you try again.  Only this time, put a little more ‘nice’ into it.  Make me feel special.”

 

Angel’s eyes narrowed at Spike’s teasing tone, but Spike steadfastly stayed exactly where he was.

 

“Turn the fuck over, Spike,” Angel growled again.  “You know I can force you, if you don’t do it on your own.”

 

“Sure, you can,” Spike agreed easily, wriggling his arse a little, getting more comfortable.  “But you won’t.  You’re such a pussy these days, Angel.  No fun at all.”  He knew Angel might be fighting his demon like a son of a bitch right now, to try to stop himself from just taking, but Angel would fight. 

 

Spike wasn’t under any delusions that Angel was holding off on his urges out of any desire to be nice.  No, it was pretty much that he wouldn’t ever do anything to prove Spike right, to prove that Spike really was better than he was, if he could help it at all.  “So, seeing as how we both know that already, why don’t you do like I said, and ask me nicely?”

 

“Turn the fuck over,” Angel ordered for the third time, but this time his voice was wavering slightly with the stress.  “Please.”  

 

“Aw, come on Angel.  You can do better than that.  How bad do you want it?  How bad do you want me?  I want to hear it.” 

 

“Spike, I swear to…” Angel ground out, and then took a deep breath when Spike just raised an amused eyebrow, and forced himself to relax.  “Fine.  Please, Spike.  Turn over.”

 

“Whatever for?”  Spike made a serious effort at not actually laughing out loud at the way Angel’s face tightened and his eyes turned dark and threatening.  He could swear that he actually saw smoke come out of the pouf’s ears.  He should really think about losing his soul and getting chained up by Angel more often, because this was more fun than he’d had in ages.

 

Angel impressed him though, by not actually exploding.  He licked his lips and looked down at Spike’s dick again, still hard and red, his hand playing over it lazily, and then back up to Spike’s face.  “So I can fuck you,” he told him, in a voice that was eerily calm.

 

Spike pursed his lips and cocked his head to the side, eyes focussing on a spot somewhere over Angel’s head and to the right, pretending to consider.  “Suck me off, and I’ll think about it,” he said after a second or two, looking at Angel, eyes twinkling.  He wasn’t smiling anymore, not because he wasn’t having fun, but because now the challenge had been laid down, and he just had to wait and see what Angel would do with it.

 

“Are you insane?” Angel asked, baulking at the idea, but Spike noticed that he didn’t move away.  Kept on staring at Spike, letting his eyes wander down his chest a little.  “I’ve got better things to do.”

 

“Really?” Spike asked, looking around the room.  “I’m willing to bet the Watcher told you to keep an eye on me.  So I’m guessing you don’t have anything to do tonight, except stay right here.  Now, you can just watch me have my own fun, or you can join in.  On my terms.”

 

“Spike…”

 

“Oh, come on, Angel.  It’s not like you’ve never done it before.  One little blow job, and then you can do anything you want with me.”  He grinned then, all predatory and lascivious, and snaked his tongue across his top teeth.  Oh yeah, he thought, as he watched Angel’s resolve crumble.  I’m irresistible. 

 

And good God so was Angel.

 

Spike had almost forgotten what he looked like when he was like this, which wasn’t surprising, given the very few times Angel had actually blown him.  But when Angel sunk to his knees in front of Spike, all grace and confidence suddenly, any traces of hesitancy gone as he leaned forward and licked his lips, Spike just about came on the spot.

 

“Jesus fuck, Angel,” Spike breathed out, and his dick jumped in his hand, pre-come pooling at the tip.  And then he blinked, mentally shook himself, and tried to get back into this, get some control back.  “Yeah,” he said, and if voice was a little bit rough, Angel didn’t mention it.  “Suck me.”

 

And Angel did.

 

Lips closed around his shaft, just under the head, and pressed down hard.  A tongue snaked out to lick at his slit, delving inside just a little, licking up any fluid there, then working around the spongy head.  Angel’s head bobbed down further, took Spike in deeper, deeper, all the fucking way down, until Angel would have been gagging on it, if he’d had any kind of gag reflex.

 

Spike had been all ready to keep ribbing him, to tell him he was going to have to do better if he wanted to get inside Spike’s arse, but bloody hell, he didn’t even think he was capable of forming the words at the moment, if he they had been true.  Angel was fucking good at this.

 

Better than Spike remembered him being, and Spike wanted to know and didn’t want to know, how exactly he’d gotten so good in the past hundred years.  Because fucking hell, he felt he should really send whoever it was Angel had been practising on a bloody fruit basket.

 

Angel’s throat worked around the head of his cock, swallowing relentlessly, his cheeks hollowing out as he sucked, fucking sucked.  Like Spike was a virgin, and Angel had been starving for weeks.  And after mere seconds Spike felt his toes curl, sending a tingling sensation all the way up into his balls.  They tightened and drew up close to his body and he was so tempted, so very tempted, to just let go, let Angel suck him dry, shoot his load down that warm, tight throat.

 

So it was with a great deal of effort that Spike managed to grip Angel’s shoulder, and push.  Angel didn’t go easily, pressed forward despite Spike’s attempts to move him, and kept on sucking, licking, let his fingertips dance over Spike’s taught balls.  Spike groaned piteously and threw his head back, but gave one last hard shove, one that succeeded in wrenching Angel’s face off his cock.  Thank Christ.

 

“Spike,” Angel warned.  “You said you wanted to get sucked off, so that’s what I’m doing.  If you’ve suddenly changed your mind, I don’t give a shit.  I’m still fucking you.”

 

“Oh, I haven’t changed my mind, pet,” Spike told him, and pushed his hips forward in a few short thrusts, unconsciously chasing the feeling of Angel’s mouth around him.  “I just want to make sure that when I come, I do it on your face.”

 

Angel’s nostrils flared at that, and his eyes turned almost yellow.  Uh oh.  That might be pushing it a little too far.  Spike momentarily thought about taking it back, about just rolling over and tilting his head to the side, offering up his arse and his neck.  Hell, he wanted to anyway, but he figured it couldn’t hurt to try to push Angel’s buttons a little bit, first.  And it was possible that this might have been one button too many.

 

But, to Spike’s utter surprise and delight, Angel just leaned back down, wrapped his fist around Spike’s shaft and started pumping.  He let his mouth play over the tip of Spike’s cock, gently lapping and sucking over the spongy head, and Spike was done for.

 

“Fuck!” he cursed on a whisper, and bucked forward, hand reaching out to grab the back of Angel’s neck as his orgasm shot through him.  Angel pulled back just in time to catch the first shot of Spike’s come across his cheek, and the sight made Spike’s gut clench, and the next pulse of jizz through his cock hit him even harder than the first.

 

This one landed across the bridge of Angel’s nose, and Spike let out a low groan, which rapidly turned into a high pitched shriek when Angel quickly closed his mouth around Spike’s dick again, and sucked, drawing Spike’s orgasm out impossibly longer, and swallowing down the last of it.

 

And then he leaned back to sit on his feet, and smirked up at Spike, who blinked down at him, in a daze.  If he thought Angel looked good on his knees, or with Spike’s cock between his lips, it was nothing compared to what he looked like with a face full of Spike’s spunk.

 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Angel,” Spike breathed out, and then lunged forward to grab Angel, and pull him close.  They fell back on the couch, Angel on top of him, and Spike smashed their mouths together, chasing the taste of himself on Angel’s tongue and lips.

 

His hands came up to Angel’s face, thumbs across his cheeks and nose, spreading his spend around, messaging it into the skin, and when his thumbs brushed against the corners of Angel’s mouth he pulled back, let Spike push the tips inside and he closed his lips around them, licked them clean.

 

After a moment, Angel pulled back, smiling his cheekiest smile, and gripped Spike by the waist, hard.  “Now, wasn’t there something you were going to do for me?”

 

“Ungh,” Spike answered eloquently, as Angel easily lifted him up and flipped him over.  Angel must have shed his pants somewhere along the way, because when he pressed down against his body, all Spike felt was skin.  Skin against his back, the backs of his legs, over his arms, where Angel’s rested on either side of his over the back of the couch.  The silky soft of skin over the hard steel of Angel’s cock pressing up along his crack, brushing back and forth slowly, as fangs sunk into the side of his neck.

 

Spike felt a small amount of blood being pulled from him, and it felt almost like his recent orgasm had felt, small pulses of expelled fluid, brining a ridiculous amount of pleasure.  He pushed into Angel’s mouth, but Angel pulled back, leaving Spike feeling bereft, and chuckled low into his ear.  “Now, Spikey,” he said, and licked up the small droplets of blood that had pooled around the prick marks on Spike’s neck.  “Now you’re gonna give me what I want.”

 

“Fuck yeah,” Spike agreed, and arched his back, canted his hips backward to push further into Angel’s touch.  He whimpered a little when Angel pulled out of his reach, and then a second later he cried out as Angel grabbed Spike’s cheeks in his hands, and pried them apart, pushing himself inside in one thrust.

 

“Son of a bitch!” Spike cursed, and Angel grunted behind him.

 

“Fuck, that smarts,” Angel complained, and Spike’s jaw dropped as he struggled under Angel, managing to snap his head back, catching Angel in the nose.  “Shit!”

 

“No fucking shit it smarts, you twat!” Spike shouted.  “And your arse isn’t the one just had a bloody club shoved up it dry!”

 

“No, but my nose is the one bleeding right now!  Besides, your ass is kind of rubbing my cock raw.”

 

“Yeah, and I can’t help but notice how that’s not stopping you from humping away back there.  Christ, Angel, I can’t believe I ever let you do this to me.”

 

Angel thrust in again, and pressed his chest down against Spike’s back, and it was only then that Spike noticed that it didn’t hurt as much, that the way was slicker.  Which, naturally, was because he was bleeding.  Well, fuck it.  At least that was better than the rough inching of skin on skin, pressed so tight the friction could have driven him crazy.

 

And anyway, a little anal bleeding was nothing new for Spike.  He kind of liked it, even.

 

“You love it, Spike, that’s why,” Angel said, nipping the lobe of his ear sharply, drawing blood.  “You always have, and you always will.  And we both know it.”

 

There was really no point in denying it, so he just shrugged and tried to push back to meet Angel’s increasingly harder and faster thrusts.  “Well then, old man.  Why don’t you show me what you’ve got?”

 

Which, in retrospect, might have been a huge mistake.  Because the next thing Spike knew, Angel’s pace had picked up considerably, to the point where Spike couldn’t keep up, and he was pushing into Spike so far and so hard that Spike was actually shaking with the effort of not falling over.

 

And the next thing after that, that he was aware of, beyond the sharp pain fading a to a dull constant ache in his backside, was Angel’s mouth closing over his throat again, and his blood being pulled out pulse by pulse, in time with the pounding of Angel’s cock into his ass.

 

And then, after he started to get slightly dizzy, blinking desperately to try to focus on something, anything, to keep himself straight, the next thing he knew after that, was that he was waking up on Angel’s sofa, alone, bloody, and sore.

 

He groaned and sat up, wincing at the sharp stab of pain deep up his arse, and wiped a hand across his neck.  The wounds had closed up, but there was still plenty of blood, over his neck, across his shoulder, even down his chest.  And, go figure, leaking out of his hole, along with a load of Angel’s come, he realised when he looked down.

 

“You right bastard,” Spike said, mostly to himself, because he didn’t see Angel in the immediate vicinity.  “Argh,” he groaned, and he pushed himself up and walked over to the bar, grabbing his half empty bottle of Jack, and tipping back half of what was left, with his eyes closed. 

 

When he lowered it and opened his eyes, he jumped back and nearly spilled it, shouting out his surprised at seeing Angel standing right in front of him, much too close.

 

“The couch should be comfortable enough for tonight,” he said.  “Tomorrow, I’ll get Wes back up here we’ll move your cuffs so they reach the bed.  I think that might be more comfortable for next time, don’t you?”

 

“Yeah, couldn’t hurt,” Spike answered, suspiciously.  That was just… weird.  “So long as I can still see the telly and reach the bar.  But uh…” he said, and brushed past Angel to make himself comfortable on the couch, making sure to get as much blood on the upholstery as possible.  “Any idea how much longer it’ll be ‘til Red shows up?”

 

“About that,” Angel smiled.  “I’m thinking it might do us both some good for me to keep you here even after we get that soul back in you.  I can’t even tell you how relaxed I feel tonight.”

 

Spike’s eyes widened and he sat up a little straighter.  “You can’t be serious.”

 

“I’ll have someone stop by your place tomorrow and pick up your stuff.  I have a feeling you’re going to be here a while.”

 

“Angel… come on.  This is stupid.”

 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Angel said, sounding entirely too pleased as he crossed the room and stopped just inside his bedroom.  “It’s looking pretty good from where I’m standing.  And hey,” he added, sounding a little too much like Angelus for Spike’s tastes.  “Who knows?  Maybe if you’re good, the cuffs can come off after a while.  Once I can trust you to come back, of course.”

 

“Angel…”

 

Angel smirked, and shut the double doors to his bedroom, locking himself in, and Spike out.

 

“Well, fuck,” Spike mumbled to himself, and sank down into the cushions.  He’d never quite learnt that lesson about playing with fire, but he suspected that even if he had, he’d have played this exactly the same way.

 

After all, Angel did say that the cuffs could come off at some point…

 

END