"What're you doing, pouf?" Spike asked, sauntering into Angel's office and slamming the doors open so hard they rebounded off the walls and re-shut themselves with a bang.
Angel scowled, maybe growled a bit, but didn't look up from the documents he was reading and signing.
Spike frowned, stalked right up to the front of Angel's desk and leaned over, casting a shadow on what Angel was working on.
He tried to read the paper upside down but couldn't quite make out what Angel was reading so he gave up and just stood there, basking in the knowledge he was pissing off his sire pretty much by doing nothing.
That was a job well done.
"Spike," Angel finally grit out from between clenched teeth, hand shaking around the pen he was holding. The papers creased. The pen creaked.
Spike grinned. "Yes?"
"What the hell are you doing?"
"Put down your pen and look at me when you're speaking. It's bloody rude not to look a bloke in the eyes, you know."
Angel didn't put down his pen but he did tilt his head to peer into Spike's eyes. He glared at the blond vampire angrily, eyes golden in his barely restrained human visage.
Spike raised a hand and traced a light, teasing line down Angel's ball point to his hand. He propped himself on Angel's desk, leaning on one side of his ass and his free hand. "So, what're doing?"
Angel yanked his hand away and shoved Spike off the desk. Spike was sent sprawling to the floor unceremoniously, duster flying over his thighs.
He pouted and leaned back on his elbows. "You've got no bloody manners, you know that?"
"When it comes to you, manners don't apply."
Spike rolled his eyes and got to his feet. He stared at Angel until Angel began to fidget and then returned his attention to whatever it was he'd been doing when Spike had walked into the office.
After a few moments, Spike shrugged and decided if Angel wasn't going to play he'd have to play with something else. He took it upon himself to wander the massive office space and tinker with the older vampire's toys.
The thought of playing with Angel's doodads put an amused smile on his face as he roamed the room.
He stopped at the bar, stared at the gothic, stylish painting over it that no doubt cost more than Spike's life was worth and then dropped his gaze to the glasses and bottles.
He licked his lips and poured himself a glass of whisky. It was good whisky, it was Angel's whisky. He was going to enjoy the hell out of it.
"Spike! That's rare! It's also not for your tasteless ass. Go get some of the cheap kind you normally drink. Don't waste the good stuff...which is also mine," Angel growled, having tracked him silently around the room with his eyes, aware of everything he'd touched and prodded.
Spike turned around, saluted him smartly with his glass and downed it all in one swallow. It burnt a fiery path down his esophagus and warmed his insides.
With a pleased sigh, he said, "I think you know my ass is quite tasty indeed. You waxed poetic about this ass many a time."
Angel made a face, didn't respond, went back to work, and Spike was suddenly profoundly sad.
Only for a second, though. Thoughts of his unsouled sire and their former glory days didn't drag him down for long because he knew he'd never have them again and it'd been a long time anyway.
He cleared his throat and turned around for a refill. Must've got dust in his throat.
He was a little drunk when he managed to pry himself away from the wet bar and amble amiably back to Angel's side of the room.
Spike grinned widely, just drunk enough to appear a little goofy, and settled in the chair in front of Angel's desk. He spread himself out, relaxed and sighed and shifted.
And fidgeted repeatedly as he caught Angel observing him silently from beneath his eyelashes and big, dark eyebrows.
As if he couldn't tell Angel was watching him. He'd watch himself, too, if he could. He was a sexy bloke.
He opened his legs wider and rested one hand palm down high on his thigh, his thumb idly stroking the heavy denim.
Angel swallowed audibly, then forced his eyes down.
The phone rang.
Angel started, cursed, then thanked God for the distraction and answered it with a hard punch to the 'talk' button.
Spike just grinned and stuck the middle finger of his free hand in his mouth and sucked on it.
Angel glanced at him, coughed and then apologised to the caller. He glared at Spike.
Spike blinked at him innocently and shifted in the chair.
Angel's eyes briefly flickered down to Spike's crotch, then shifted away.
Spike's eyebrows rose and he started to get hard. He always got hard when someone looked at his dick. It was a Pavlovian response.
Angelus had started it, the bastard, and somehow he couldn't get rid of that bit of training.
Angel seemed to be enjoying the fruits of his badder half's labours, though, because he kept sneaking little glances at Spike's swelling jean front and stuttering through his conversation.
That suited Spike just fine. He'd sit there and be quiet like a good boy.
He could be very, very good when he wanted to be.
He could also be very, very bad, which was more fun.
With the precision of a move that had been very well-practiced, he pulled his left hand from his thigh, his right from his mouth, and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his jeans. He shoved his left hand inside and began to fondle himself.
He groaned softly and spread his legs more, giving himself room to work.
His eyelids fluttered but didn't shut because he wanted to see the look on Angel's face when he discovered what he was doing.
Angel scooted up closer to the desk when he glanced at Spike and noticed where his hand was. He banged his knee into the side of the desk, cursed, nodded and then said 'uh huh' and kept his eyes glued to Spike's moving hand.
"Mr. Angel, are you all right? You sound distracted. What's the noise? I thought this was to be a private conversation. That's what you implied..."
Angel's eyes widened and he hurried to reassure the man he was speaking to. "No, no, I'm fine. I'm sorry. I'm just...swamped in work. You know how it is here at Wolfram & Hart. Busy, busy, busy. Go ahead, Mr. Rishker, I'm all ears."
Angel wasn't all ears. Spike knew that for a fact, intimately.
Spike wasn't in any particular hurry. He stroked himself slowly and firmly, pulled his cock and massaged the precum bubbling from the end into his flesh. Skin stroking over skin began to make a wet sound and he sighed, breath coming in uneven pants as his arousal ratcheted higher -- Angel watching him made his cock twitch.
The denim and the metal zip made for good friction and he couldn't help but give himself a little squeeze.
He could smell Angel's arousal, see the rapt fascination with what he was doing, the flare of his nostrils as he scented Spike.
Just like the good old days, it was. Angelus had always loved a good show.
Spike would give Angel one he wouldn't soon forget. Poor old bugger needed some excitement in his life and he was just the vampire for the job.
He kept his leisurely pace, stared lecherously at Angel and played up to him until the older vampire swallowed hard, glanced at the phone and glared at him. He cupped his hand over the speaker while the other clutched his pen like a life line. The man on the other end of the line continued to talk, apparently liking the sound of his own voice and unaware of what was happening on Angel's side of the line.
"Spike," he hissed. "What the hell are you doing? I'm busy! You can't do that here! Not now! I've got someone really important on the phone, been trying to get him to talk to me for weeks and you pick now to fuck with me?"
Spike raised an eyebrow. "Not doing anything to you, pouf. Go back to your important talky talk and leave me be. Not hurting a ruddy...." He thrust into his palm, his features slackening. "...thing. Go about your business. I'll go about mine."
Angel moistened his lips, tilted his head to try and get a look at the goods then shook himself when he realised what he was doing. "You can't do that here, dammit," he repeated, hissing. "It's unsanitary and...wrong."
Spike snorted and rolled his hips. He flicked the end of his cock with a fingertip and groaned. "If it was sanitary I'd be doing it wrong and, anyway, you and me got up to more...dirty little things than this back in the day. Besides, you got people working here that clean up messes no matter how questionable they are...one more won't hurt them. They'll be earning their pay."
Angel rolled his eyes and then refocused his attention on his phone call for a while. Spike continued wanking, slow and evenly paced, watching his reactions with interest.
His sire might be good at hiding his emotions but he couldn't hide how he was being affected by Spike's little show. Spike could smell Angel's arousal permeating the entire office -- it smelled good.
Smelled like 1880 on the night Angelus first took young vampire William's virginity. It was strong and thick and cloying.
Oh, that was a nice thought. Memories were the bloody bee's knees.
He moved his hand a little faster, bucking his hips up into the tight, slick fist his palm and fingers made. The chair rocked beneath him and he slid down a little further with the aid of his smooth duster and his increasingly desperate movements.
Angel's hand shook, his pen snapped and ink exploded everywhere. His shirt and desk were likely ruined, as were the papers he'd been looking over.
Angel jumped up from his desk and said, "Shit!"
"Mr. Angel?" a voice called, sharply.
Angel looked at the phone with dismay, then glared at Spike. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Rishker. The next consultation will be free. I've just got...things I need to give my undivided attention at the moment. Important things that won't go away. Nothing as important as your business, of course, but...trivial matters sometimes need to be taken care of before you can get the other stuff to fall into place."
Angel's call finally ended and he nearly smashed the phone getting it back on its base. Angel's ink-stained hands clenched at his sides.
"I can't believe you," he growled, eyes blazing.
Spike quirked his lips and looked at him and fucked his fist but didn't say anything because it was finally starting to get interesting and he didn't want to miss a thing.
He wanted to hear more of why Angel thought he shouldn't be doing such dirty, nasty things in front of him. Especially since Angelus had reveled in what Spike was doing right now.
Angel slammed his fist on the desk causing everything on top of it to rattle. "Spike."
"What, wanker? Oh, no, wait. That'd be me, wouldn't it?" Spike chuckled and moved his hand pointedly.
"What you're doing is...indecent a-and...wrong. Why don't you go somewhere else and play with yourself?"
Spike smiled lazily and ran his uninvolved hand up his stomach to his chest. He rolled a nipple through his t-shirt, then rucked up the shirt and pinched the little pink nub roughly while baring nearly all of his torso to Angel's gaze.
It was a calculated move, one he knew would really get Angel's goat. And it did.
Angel started breathing, something he didn't normally do, and clutched at the edge of his desk hard. The wood splintered a little in his grip but he didn't notice.
"Spike," he said softly, sounding uncertain and aroused. He was merely reluctant, now, instead of being adamant about refusing what Spike was putting up on offer.
Spike looked at him. "See? Not doing anything wrong. Don't see anything, do you? Not me knob, or me hand...maybe I'm scratching an--oooh--a right tenacious itch."
"Yeeeah, one of those seven year things, right? Bet you have a real bad one that needs tending to, don't you?"
Angel gulped but didn't say anything.
Spike took that as permission to proceed.
He raised his legs and hooked his knees over the arm rests of the chair. That spread him open and he knew Angel could see every curve of his ass and sac stretched out beneath the taut material of his jeans.
He leaned his head back and watched Angel, fucked himself, jerked off until he was nearly there and then he stopped, barely.
Spike grinned and removed his hand from his pants. As much as he wanted to finish himself off, he had more important things to do.
He licked his fingers, sucked his fluids from them and then sat there silently, debauched and horny as all hells, and fluttered his eyelashes at Angel.
His pants gaped open, cock seeking to escape from his trousers, desperate, hard and wet, but he ignored it for the moment.
Angel looked at Spike's neglected arousal, then at Spike's face. His pupils were dilated, eyes glassy, face tense along with the rest of his body and one part in particular. "What are you...?"
The blond arched an eyebrow, shifted, and acted like he hadn't a care in the world despite how strong the urge was to take himself back in hand and cum all over Angel's carpet. "What am I...what?"
Angel swallowed hard, fingers convulsing in the puddle of ink he had yet to clean up. He wasn't even trying to pretend he wasn't watching, wasn't involved in what was going on. He didn't try to pretend he didn't want Spike to finish himself off, to give him a show.
"Why'd you stop?" Angel grit out, petulant and sullen, knowing when he was beaten and for once giving in somewhat gracefully.
Gotcha, Spike thought smugly.
He circled his belly button with an index finger, dipped the tip into the little indention. "Didn't imagine you'd want to see that...it's wrong and dirty and bad, remember? There was also something about indecency...sanitation issues..."
Angel's eyes flickered down to Spike's crotch again. A sigh. "Yeah, well, the best things in life are mostly bad, dirty and wrong, right? You've fucked with me all day, all week, and it's come to a...head. Finish it so we can both get on with our lives."
Spike shrugged and shoved his hand back into his pants. "You always were a bossy bugger, but I do aim to please. Myself, mostly, but sometimes, like now, I feel generous. You want I should take meself out and let you see what I'm doing or would you like me to continue on like this? Keep it all mysterious and under wraps. Sometimes it's hotter like that..."
Angel sighed unevenly, one eye twitching at the corner. "Just do it."
"Mystery wank it is, then," Spike said cheerily, arching his back as his fist moved up and down his cock.
He was a vampire, he had self-control oozing out of his perfect ass, he could go months or years without a wank, an orgasm -- not that he had, but he could...anyway, he didn't want to keep his captive audience waiting so...
He jerked hard and fast, knuckles dragging along the inside of one thigh as the confining pants hindered him.
"You going to get me another pair of pants? Or are you going to make me wear these around all day so you can smell my dried spunk whenever you want, eh? You're a dirty, old git, aren't you? Probably go for that last one, yeah?" he panted.
Angel moaned unevenly, breath hitching in his chest. "Probably."
Spike grinned and arched, cupped his balls, rolled them in his hand. If his jeans were a little looser he'd stick his other hand in so he could play with all his bits and bobs at the same time.
He met Angel's eyes and felt himself flush with heat; his cock responded, spilling more precum into his jeans, on his skin.
"Bloody hell," he murmured as Angel moistened his lips and he felt that little flicker of wetness against skin almost as if it had been direct stimulation to his needy prick.
He came without warning, bucking and convulsing and shaking and breathing and moving his fist hard and fast to draw it out.
He heard a low groan and forced his eyes open, not having known he'd shut them, just in time to see Angel's face contort as he came without any direct contact, body bowing out away from the desk as he hung on to keep from falling on his backside.
Spike collapsed against the chair, panting and smug, with his hand still stuck in the front of his pants cupping his softening flesh, heavy-lidded, satiated gaze staring into Angel's dilated, almost shocked one.
"Well, that was a bit of all right," he said smugly.
Angel sat back in his big, leather chair, ran a hand over his face and through his hair, leaving a streak of blue ink across his forehead.
Spike chuckled weakly leaning his head back on the chair cushion.
Angel just sent him a scathing glance, one that was heated and full of promise, and punched the button to raise Harmony.
"Whatcha need, bossy?"
Angel cringed and Spike brought his hand out of his pants with a sigh. "A new set of clothes for me, some jeans for Spike, some ink remover, or possibly a new desk. And...disinfectant and that spray stuff that gets rid of...smells."
Then, "What did you do to each other? Did you two fight? Cuz if you did I'm s'posed to tell Wesley and Gunn. They sorta made a bet and...hey, who won, anyway? It'll be fun to get to tell the loser that he, well, lost and to pay up. Not that I bet against you, I'd never do that!"
"Harm, just get the clothes and some heavy duty cleaner. There's ink everywhere."
"Umm...yeah, okay. On it."
Spike did up his pants and pulled down his shirt, lacing his fingers across his belly. "So...I know I bloody loved it but...was it good for you? Seemed to like it a lot, what with cumming in your trousers without so much a touch to your dick. If it were the good old days you'd've repaid me for doing you good and proper with my little perv show..."
Angel blinked at him and drummed his fingers on the desk top, lips sliding into a slow grin that Spike didn't think he altogether liked. "Maybe I can arrange a little...reward for you, Spike..."
Spike dropped his feet to the floor and tensed, sitting upright, eyes narrowed as he watched Angel.
That look on Angelus' face was scary but on Angel's it was positively stroke inducing.
Before he even realised what he was doing, Spike's hand was reaching for his crotch, again, to give himself...a good stroke.
Here Endeth the Story
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