This is a little ficlet for our special prompt over atnekid_spike, dedicated to the amazing and fabulousdanna7001, who put the idea of porn movies in my head...*hugs her for being brilliant*
Summary: Spike finds a novel way to teach Angel a lesson...
Spike Goes to the Movies
The wanker was following him. Again.
Bollocks to it; he was gonna just put up with it this time. No…he was gonna teach the great prat a lesson.
He’d been intending to go into a bar, but he smoothly changed course and headed to the adult movie theatre instead.
“I’ll take one for…” He looked up at the listings and snorted. “Army Physicals 3 please.”
Once inside the mostly deserted theatre, he sat around five rows from the back – giving the idiot plenty of room to skulk in behind him – and settled low in his seat, smirking to himself.
Sure enough, barely five minutes into the flick, he heard the door open and close softly and knew that Angel was sliding into one of the back rows.
Spike was fed up to the back teeth of Angel following him around like a lovesick teenager – or creepy psycho stalker – but never approaching him. The one time he’d tried to bring it up at work, Angel had denied it so vehemently that Spike had feared a vein might burst in his overhanging forehead. Oh no, of course he’d never do something as crazy and pathetic as sneaking around and spying on Spike, because that whole tortured creature of the night thing wasn’t his bag at all. The blond rolled his eyes.
He didn’t think that Angel had been paying attention to where he was, because he suddenly heard a strangled gasp and realised that the other vampire had finally looked up at the screen, only to see some beefcake being ordered out of his combat trousers.
It was hard to tell with the mostly unpleasant scents permeating the theatre, but Spike was fairly sure that Angel was getting turned on by watching soldiers having their balls grabbed and their back passages probed by improbable-looking medical equipment. Well fuck if he wasn’t a little aroused himself, particularly when he oh so easily pictured the Slayer’s ex-tumble up on the screen.
Eyes sparkling as inspiration hit him, he allowed his hand to drift down to his lap and rub his dick to full hardness. He made good and sure to give an audible groan and exaggerate his arm movements so that it would be perfectly obvious what he was doing to anyone who happened to be watching. He grinned to himself when the scent of Angel’s lust became unmistakeable.
Beginning to enjoy himself properly, he half watched the film and half concentrated on Angel, remembering the way they used to fuck, hard and desperate and so fucking dirty, over and over again like it was going out of fashion. He moaned and let his head fall back a little, working the heel of his palm up and down the column of his cock and breathing in the heavy smell of salty fluid leaking through denim.
Rubbing briskly, grinding his palm into his crotch for extra friction, he strained his ears. Angel was breathing, making those sexy little sounds that meant he was trying to calm his rising excitement…and failing. Spike could picture his big dick tenting those smart slacks, dribbling out enough pre-cum to make a trip to the dry-cleaners necessary. He unconsciously licked his lips.
Spike unzipped and dragged out his prick, mostly because he knew that Angel wouldn’t and he liked the thought of frustrating the hell out of him. Working his foreskin up and down his shaft and plunging his spare hand into his open jeans to squeeze his trapped balls, he realised that the brunet had moved forwards and was now sat in the row behind him, just off to his right.
He could see everything from there.
Fuck, that was hot…Spike decided that he’d better make it his business to put on a good show.
He was a big fan of the double-handed wank, and personally thought that it was one of the better forms of ‘therapy’ for getting his digits back in full working order. While he groped inside his Levis, ensuring that the scratch of knuckles on denim was loud enough to carry, he jacked his cock. Angling it slightly towards where he knew the other vampire was watching avidly, he concentrated on making a show of letting the head peek tantalisingly out of his fist on each stroke.
Bathing in Angel’s pheromones, ears echoing with the grunts and slurps from the movie and eyes trained on hard muscle and hammering dick, it didn’t take long before he was shifting in his seat, thigh muscles bunching and twitching. He began to thrust up slightly, pumping up into his fist and gasping in pleasure.
He swore and squeezed his cock tighter, flicking his wrist to twist on the downstroke and tugging on his balls with the other hand. He could hear Angel practically whimpering and the sound was about to undo him.
Of course, the stupid repressed fucktard was just watching him rather than playing with himself or, better yet, offering to lend a helping hand, but it was still fucking hot. Spike didn’t need to turn around to know how Angel looked – brown eyes warm and glazed, jaw slack, fists clenching at his sides…and hips rocking just slightly as his neglected cock tried desperately to get some stimulation. He imagined the other vampire’s balls, lying full and heavy in his pants, aching with the need to release fuck knew how long’s worth of spunk…
He stripped his prick furiously, arse arching up off the velveteen seat as the images and sensory overload pushed him towards a sudden strong peak. Crying out, he shot forcefully, cum erupting from his dick and splashing his clothing, arcing up in long jets only to splatter down on the nearby seats…and Angel.
Thrumming with the aftershocks of orgasm, Spike nevertheless whirled around at the low, ragged groan he heard. He was just in time to see Angel grab at the base of his cock to ward off climax…and to see that it was too late.
Droplets of Spike’s cum decorating his clothing, he bucked off the seat and unloaded in his pants, salty spend flooding his silky underwear and woollen slacks.
“Bloody hell, Angel…” whispered Spike in awe, dick still lazily drooling out little pulses of spunk.
The brunet’s eyes snapped to Spike’s and he flushed with guilt and shame. Instantly, he was on his feet and bolting out of the theatre door.
Smirking to himself, Spike absently wiped his soaked palm on his tee-shirt and turned back to the screen, where a burly doctor was currently wrist deep in some steroid-enhanced soldier.
He thought about Angel rushing awkwardly home, crotch wet and uncomfortable…and cock probably still rock hard. Fuck…He really should pop up to the penthouse for a visit tonight; all this cloak and dagger shit was getting old.
But maybe he’d just watch the rest of the movie first. After all, his own dick wasn’t exactly softening yet either, and it had been a while since he’d seen a good skin flick. Even longer since he’d paid to see one.
But it had so been worth it, he reflected as he commenced stroking himself again, using his own cum to slick the way.
Well, bugger if he hadn’t forgotten how much fun the movies could be.
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