Mixed Fruit

by Saber ShadowKitten

"You're shitting me." The words were accompanied by an incredulous stare, recently used spoon poised by an open well-kissed mouth.

"I'm not kidding." Angel put his arm behind his head and shifted the paperback romance in his hand. "It says: 'He had taken a personal oath against spending his seed with cheerful abandon.'"

"Who writes this crap?" Spike asked, picking another restaurant jam from the pile on Angel's abdomen. "Better question: who reads this crap?"

"Ann Lawrence and me," Angel replied. He looked at the naked vampire sprawled on his stomach beside the brunette. "What flavor?"

"Stwabwewy," Spike mumbled around the plastic spoonful of jam in his mouth.

"Remember, I get the Orange Marmalade."

"I know you get the Orange Marmalade." Spike tossed the empty small square container over Angel's naked body, off the bed and onto the floor, where it joined the other empties. "When I find one, I'll give it to you. Now, go back to spending your cheerful abandon."

"I've spent my cheerful abandon nine times today. My dick can't take anymore."

"Your dick?" Spike chose another jam and read the label. Orange Marmalade. He peeled open the top, scooped the jam out, and quickly ate it. The empty container landed on the floor with a negligent toss. "I'm the one who's full of your cheerful abandon. If anyone can't take anymore, it should be me."

"I didn't hear you complaining when it happened," Angel pointed out.

"Hard to complain with your mouth full," Spike countered, sticking his spoon in a Grape jam. "I've got eno-oh shit."

Spike looked at the grape blob of jam that he'd accidently flicked onto Angel's bare hip. Angel looked at the grape blob of jam on the crease of his bare hip. Spike looked at Angel. Angel looked at Spike and lifted a brow. Spike grinned wickedly.

"No! Spike, don't you dare... oh you bleached bastard," Angel hissed as the younger man licked the jam and most of the brunette's hip. "I told you my dick hurts."

"Not licking your cock...," Spike nipped at Angel's thigh, "...yet."

Angel thwacked him on the head with the romance book. "You're evil."

"And you love it." Spike nudged the older man's hardening shaft with his nose. "See, the proof is in the penis."

"The proof is..." Angel didn't bother to finish. He tossed the book to the floor and dropped his arm over his eyes. "Just suck me."

"Someone's a bossy git." Spike opened another jam -- Orange Marmalade, snerk -- spooned the jam out of the small container and stuck it in his mouth, but did not swallow.

"Don't argue, just suck." Angel abruptly moaned like a wounded water buffalo. "Yeah. Like that. Good Spike. Like you."

Spike chuckled around the Orange Marmalade-coated cock in his mouth, earning another odd noise from Angel. Oh give me a home where the buffalo moan, the blond mentally sang.

The younger man slipped his tongue beneath the foreskin covering the head of Angel's swollen shaft. He tickled the sensitive underside with the tip of his tongue until he drew forth a small gush of pre-come. The blond made a face and released Angel's member. Blech. Salty Orange Marmalade was disgusting.

"Noooo," Angel whined when the air in the room cooled the saliva on his sex. "Spike, don't stoooop."

Spike sighed dramatically, wrapped his fingers around the base of Angel's thick length and propped it upright. "You only love me because I give good head."

"Yes, now suck me."

"Oi! You're not supposed to agree with me," Spike pretended to be hurt. "You're supposed to say: 'no, darling, I love you for your mind and beauty' and all that bollocks."

Angel lifted his arm and stared incredulously at the blond. "Who is the one that's been reading the romance novels?"

Spike grinned shamelessly. "There's some bloody good sex in them."

"You're crazy," Angel stated. "You're also not causing my tenth cheerful abandon. Get to work."

The blond didn't get to work. He instead looked expectantly at Angel.

Angel dropped his arm back over his eyes and said, without inflection, "I love you for your mind and beauty and all that bollocks."

"Now, was that so hard?" Spike teased.

"It won't be after you suck me off."

Spike laughed, got comfortable, and proceeded to put the Hoover Company to shame. Angel apparently concurred, what with all the nonsense he was babbling.

"Ah, there... that's... yeah, do that... right like that... you're so good..." Angel's hips moved opposite Spike's bobbing head, the blond slurping in accompaniment to his words. "Treats for you... ah, hell, nicenicenicenice... gonna come... good boy, like you... gonna come, gonnacomegonnacome..."

The brunette stiffened, his mouth still moving but with no sound coming out. Angel's turgid length pulsed between Spike's lips, and small spurts of jism hit the back of the younger man's throat. After ten orgasms in less than twenty hours, it was surprising there was anything left inside Angel to ejaculate.

"Ouch," Angel said, reaching down to cup his tender genitals after Spike had released him. "I think I've been cheerfully abandoned-out."

Spike choose a restaurant jam flavor from the fallen pile on the bed next to Angel. Boysenberry, yum. "Bet you'd do it again if you could."

"Probably," Angel agreed wryly. "What about you? Do you have a seed spreader that needs attention?"

Spike rolled over, exposing his hardness. "I think I can give it a go. Wouldn't want you bragging that you could come ten times in a day and me only nine."

Angel patted the pillow by his head in invitation, then sat up and rooted through the night-stand drawer. "No, we couldn't have that," he agreed with fake solemnity. He found what he wanted and plunked himself on the bed between Spike's thighs.

"What's that?" Spike asked in trepidation. The pinkish thing in Angel's hand was bulbous on one end, thin and curved slightly on the other, with a wire and a remote control attached to it.

"Anal probe," Angel answered, choosing a jam.

"Anal probe," Spike repeated slowly.

"Mixed Fruit, how fitting." With a grin, Angel showed the jam to Spike before opening it.

"You're not shoving jam up my hole," Spike stated firmly. "You're not shoving anything called an 'anal probe' up my hole either."

"It's just a sex toy, Spike," Angel told him, pushing said jam-coated sex toy into its appropriate orifice.

"Angel, repeat after me: no anal proooooooohhhsweetmotherofSatan."

The older vampire pushed the slide-switch to 'off.' "Did you say something?" he asked innocently.

"Again," Spike demanded. "Again, again."

Angel smirked, flicked the switch, and watched as Spike practically levitated off the bed.

"Anshitratbastardloveyougel," Spike said with a garbled cry. Despite the fact this orgasm was going to be number eleven (Angel had made him mess his trousers when he'd first arrived), his climax was fast to hit. Old Faithful erupted with another strangled cry. "Christonacross, I'mgoingtofuckaaaaggghhhh...."

Angel chuckled as two tiny white globs rained down on the blond's abdomen. Eleven times (yes, he remembered making Spike come in his jeans, but humoring the younger vampire meant sex more often) and there was still seed to be spread. And Spike definitely lay panting with cheerful abandon.

The sex toy joined the miscellaneous junk on the floor, to be cleaned up later, and Angel crawled up and loomed over the prone blond. "I'm glad you came," he punned with a quirk of his lips.

"Eleven times, baby," Spike confirmed smugly.

"Want to try for an even dozen?" Angel asked as he ducked his head and snatched a sloppy kiss, his tongue probing a different orifice. Spike tasted good. Like semen and blood and... Orange Marmalade?

Angel broke the kiss and glared. "You ate the Orange Marmalade jelly."

"I did," Spike said unabashedly. He wrapped his arms around the other man's neck and raised his mouth for another kiss. "I'm so bad. Punish me, daddy."

Angel slithered out of Spike's arms, down his body, and settled between his thighs. Pushing the younger man's legs back and exposing the puckered hole, the brunette murmured, "At least there's still the Mixed Fruit."