'Go away Doyle.' Doyle stared at the wooden door, knowing that his girlfriend, (or at least, the woman who had been his girlfriend until Angellus had opened his big Irish mouth) was on the other side. Covering his mouth a moment, he wondered what he could say to make her let him in, so that he could explain, but nothing, absolutely nothing came to mind. 'Cordelia.........Princess, let me in, would ya?' Oh great, Doyle, that's sure to win the lady over. 'And why would I want to do that? So you can tell me all about the happy time you had with Wesley?' Oh and score one below the belt. 'Cordelia,' he paused, sighed, 'It wasn't like that.' There was silence from the other side of the door. 'Cordelia?' She opened the door a crack, the safety still on. 'I really don't want to hear this now, Doyle.' 'Then when do ya? Cause Monday morning it's you, me and Wesley back in the office. You planning to keep the silent treatment up then?' She raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow and Doyle's spirit sagged. She had excluded whole groups of school kids for less. How on Earth did a little Irish half-demon expect to get past defences built up over a Prom Queen education? 'Did you have anything else to say?' asked Cordelia. 'I.........' 'That's what I thought,' she said and moved to shut the door. Doyle stuck his foot in it, stopping it from closing. 'It was nothing, really.' And how true was that? 'But for what it's worth, it happened before you and I ever got together.' 'Oh,' said Cordelia. A foot beyond the door, maybe? 'And that's supposed to make it all okay. That my so called boyfriend is gay and he decided not to tell me.' She slammed the door and Doyle lifted his arm to hit the wall. He stopped before it ever connected and saw an older man two doors down, watching him. Doyle lowered his hand slowly, and shot the old guy a smile. 'Women,' he said cheerily. Old guy watched him a moment, before shaking his head and going back inside. Well done Doyle, he said to himself, managed to screw that one up nicely. Couldn't have done it better if you'd have tried. Ah Gods, who would have thought that one drunken kiss would wind up like this - the woman of his dreams finding out and dumping him. Why was his luck so buggerdly bad? He made his way back to the apartment he shared with Wesley and knocked on the door, too pissed off to have to search for his key. After a few minutes, Wesley came wearily to the door, his glasses askew as he tried to focus on who was outside. 'Hey Wes, it's me,' said Doyle sombrely. 'Gonna take the chain off?' 'Doyle?' asked Wesley wearily. 'I wasn't expecting you back tonight.' Doyle closed his eyes a second. 'Just let me in, eh?' Wesley nodded and backed away from the door, pulling the chain off and allowing Doyle entry. 'Cordelia in a bad mood?' 'Something like that,' muttered Doyle as he surveyed his recently tidied apartment. 'You cleaned again, right?' Wesley shrugged and headed towards the couch. 'Living in a pit is something I gave up when I was twelve.' Doyle nodded and walked to the fridge, looking for a beer. He was a little shaken to find the whole thing cleaned and sparkling, something it had not been earlier that day. 'You did all this tonight?' Wesley settled back against the couch and pulled the blankets up to his chest. 'I was awake.' Doyle looked at Wesley's face, seeing the tension etched across his brow, the faint pulse that ticked at his temple. Angellus' words had affected them all, but whilst Spike and Angel were no doubt working out their differences with the help of lust and love, Wesley had come home alone, bearing his grievances in silence. 'He didn't mean it, you know?' 'Hmmm,' said Wesley, eyes closed. 'When he was.........drugged. Angel, he didn't mean it.' 'That I have been inferior, that my judgement had been lacking. No, I'm sure he didn't mean that.' Doyle caught the bitter tone in Wesley's voice and didn't like it. It spoke of such defeat, and it worried the Irishman a little. 'Wes, man. You got to learn to give a little. Just shrug it off.' 'Oh really,' said Wesley, 'And have you managed to shrug off whatever he said about you?' Doyle put the bottle to his lips. 'It's different.' Wesley barked out a laugh and opened his eyes, regarding his flatmate with something like contempt. 'Oh, I see, when cruel clarity is dealt out, I am supposed to ignore it and leave the brooding to you Irish. Is that it?' Doyle shook his head. 'You know, for an educated man, you can really be an ass.' Wesley raised his eyebrows. 'And just what is that supposed to mean?' Doyle gestured widely with his bottle. 'You're lying here, feeling so sorry for yourself, moping in your well of sorrow, when some of us have lost our girlfriends.' 'Cordelia's left you?' asked Wesley in surprise. 'Bang on the money, Wes.' The Irishman drank again, letting out a deep sigh as he thought about it. 'But, why?' Doyle pinched the bridge of his nose and sat down on the end of the couch. 'Doyle?' Wesley looked at the visible pain on his friend's face and tried to think. What on earth could Angellus have said that would make Cordelia abandon her lover? He had, in Wesley's humble opinion, been over indulgent with the young lady, allowing her get away with murder, or it's fashion equivalent, at every opportunity. Doyle's behaviour, Wesley had admitted privately to himself, had caused vague stirrings of jealousy in the Englishman - Cordelia seemed to have been treated with a great deal more respect than Wesley. 'What did he say?' Doyle slugged back the last of the bottle. 'He told her that you and I had been playing tonsil hockey.' Wesley's mouth dropped open. 'Ah,' he said, 'Ah.' 'That's right Wes,' said Doyle, 'You've got just how I feel, down.' Wesley shot him a look and then sat up, trying to think how Cordelia would have taken the news. The problem was, he wasn't sure how he'd just taken it. It was something that had happened, but it was never discussed. Neither man had said a word about it since that date. To hear Doyle talking about the event now seemed cheap somehow, as though the Irishman was stating clearly that it was a mistake, something he'd never intended to happen. True. Wesley was certain that until they'd reached that bar, he had never looked at Doyle as anything other than a friend. Well, maybe that wasn't quite true. He was an observant man after all, and a person would have to be blind to miss the twinkling eyes and seductive smile, not to mention a lean frame topped by hair you instinctively wanted to ruffle. Oh no, he'd never thought of Doyle that way at all. But in spite of his observations, Wesley was a man who had never considered himself in any way attracted to other men. His education had passed without event of that nature, in itself unusual within his year. He had noted the respective attractiveness of his peers, but hadn't thought about them in any relation to himself. He had never imagined himself kissing another man, and until Doyle had kissed him, had never given thought to the pleasure inherent in such an act. And, well, there was Megan, descendant and recipient of all of Spike's sexiness and eroticism. She wasn't beautiful, per se, but had exchanged that lack for an overdose of naughtiness, her every act designed to attract sexual thoughts. It was something Wesley had seen Spike doing to great effect, although the vampire was so obviously dedicated to Angel, it was almost pointless. Wesley hadn't denied to himself, that something about Spike attracted him, but he had translated that desire onto Megan, and she had been more than happy to indulge him. Her presence had allowed Wesley to see Spike in a different light, allowing to see the vampire as a friend. Did I really just think that? Note to self, when 'vampire' and 'friend' are mentioned in the same sentence, it's time to worry. Was he really so fickle, accepting the woman because the man was off limits? He didn't think so. No, more than that, he didn't believe so. when she had welcomed him to her bed, he was genuinely excited by her, not some attraction to someone she represented. He'd made love to the person, regardless of what lumps and bumps came along. And if at some point he'd wished that the flesh he was stroking was of a slightly darker hue, the muscles beneath it stronger, the dark hair darker, shorter, it made no difference. Did it? He looked up at Doyle. 'I'm sorry Doyle. I really don't know what to say.' Doyle shrugged. 'Yeah, neither do I, which is why I'm back here and Cordy's all wrapped up there with Phantom Dennis.' 'Who?' 'It's her ghost,' said Doyle, 'Came with the apartment.' 'Ah,' said Wesley, 'Resident spook. Not a problem I gather?' 'He's a bit protective, but nothing like as bad as his mother.' Wesley wondered why the shiver ran down his back at Doyle's accent. He'd heard it so many times, saying so many different things. Why would it seem different now? He shook his head. Talking about that kiss had brought up emotions he had been quite certain were over. Now he was not so sure Doyle got up and headed over to the fridge, pulling out another beer. 'I think I'll have one of those, Doyle, if you don't mind.' Doyle pulled out the second bottle. 'Sure, but you're paying for the next lot. I can't keep losing all my booze to Spike.' Wesley snorted a laugh and waited until the half-demon had brought the bottles over. The Irishman sat down on the couch and passed one to Wesley, wondering why this felt too close all of a sudden. He shook his head and put his feet up on the coffee table, listening to it creak under the weight of his legs and all the magazines he had piled up on it. It was the one area of the flat that Wesley never tidied, or at least, never moved anything from. He'd come home several times to find all his 'Bouncy monthly's piled up neatly in two stacks. Hey and look, Cordelia, if I was gay at all, I wouldn't have a big pile of naughty mags on my living room table. Full of girls and big boobs and I like them! And like, Wesley, he's not gay. He's got that English hellfire to take care of his needs. Okay, so she's actually in England, but she's very girly.........except in all the ways that she's exactly like Spike. He sighed. Who am I kidding? Don't know if you can call it gay exactly, but I'll not deny I've always seen men.........a little differently. But women, I've seen them too, and I can't say I've ever wanted to turn down a firm thigh and a dirty grin. Trouble is, I don't think I'm all that bothered which sex has the grin. Or the thigh. Never acted out on it though. I mean, I may have looked and said, 'hey look, that man's attractive', but I've never done nothing. Look at that time with Angel. I saw he was handsome and attractive and okay, so I felt a little stirring down South of the pleasure trail, but I never thought about kissing him. Yeah, okay, so there was that dream about me, him and that shower of his, but that doesn't count. Was just my subconscious. And I had loads of dreams about all sorts of people. Even my fifth grade physics teacher. Eee! So, okay, so I see myself as attracted to men and women. I've known that for ages, years no, and it's not been an issue. Course being married to Harry took care of a lot of that. Does that make me Bi? Is that even a confirmed state of sexuality? Ah hell, does it even matter? Maybe I should be honest with all of them, Cordelia included. Just come out and say, hey, I like men and women, so what? So Cordelia isn't even talking to me. So I've just disturbed Wesley by bringing it back up. He just wanted to forget about it and that bastard, Angellus just throws it up in my face. That's hardly fair now, is it? 'Ah I'm sorry Wes. I shouldn't have dredged it all up.' 'Dredged?' asked Wesley. 'Angellus brought it up. You have nothing to apologise for.' Doyle shook his head. 'No, I know how you were trying to forget about it. We both should, I know. But.........' 'What?' interrupted Wesley, 'What did you say?' Doyle tried to remember what he'd said. 'Er, I said.........I know how you're trying to forget about it.' Wesley stared at him. 'I never said that.' It was Doyle's turn to look confused. 'What d'you mean?' Wesley breathed deeply and put his bottle down on the table. 'I never said I wanted to forget about it.' 'Oh.' Doyle looked at his knee for a minute, unsure if he could meet the Englishman's eyes. 'We were drunk, I mean, it was just something that happened.' Wesley looked at the sad expression on Doyle's face. 'I'd never kissed a man before.' Doyle looked up quickly. 'Me neither! I,' he paused, 'I mean, I'd never actually..........' He met Wesley's earnest gaze and smiled gently. I suppose being drunk isn't an excuse?' Wesley shook his head after a moment. 'No it isn't. It's a reason, or part of one.' Doyle lifted the bottle to his lips and found Wesley's hand stopping him. 'And if you want to take that excuse away, don't you think you should stop now?' Doyle swallowed hard, and then lowered the bottle. He tried to laugh. 'You always this way with men you've kissed?' Wesley rolled his eyes and smiled a little. 'Just those who claim alcohol is to blame.' Doyle did laugh then. 'It wasn't the alcohol.' 'I know it wasn't,' said Wesley, 'Well, alright, that's not completely true.' He rubbed both hands back through his hair. 'I don't think I would have had the courage to go through with it if I hadn't been three parts to the wind.' Doyle chuckled. 'You got a way of complimenting a man there, so you do.' Wesley raised an eyebrow and Doyle smiled as he realised talking about that kiss wasn't proving as traumatic as he'd thought. And if it wasn't for the fact that he really wanted to try it sober, Doyle would probably have ended the conversation right here and gone to bed. Which raised a whole new set of questions. 'Ah, I don't know Wes. You got Megan and I got,' he shrugged, 'A very pissed off Cordelia.' 'I don't,' said Wesley quietly. 'Hmm, what was that?' asked Doyle. 'I don't have Megan.' Doyle gaped at him. 'Since when?' Wesley reached for the bottle and stopped his hand before he reached it. 'The other morning, when I stayed over at Spike's.' He sighed. 'They were.........otherwise engaged and she was listening, and getting.........she was.........' He paused, wondering how to put it. 'She was getting off on them screwing?' Wesley shot him a thankful look. 'Yes, precisely. It made me feel somewhat inadequate.' Doyle watched as Wesley recalled the moment. He stretched out and laid a hand on the man's shoulder, telling himself that he was just comforting the Englishman. And he was comforting him. This was not about a need to touch those broad shoulders. No. He caught himself and smiled grimly. Thinking poetic, that was a sure sign he was losing his mind. 'She's going to try and finish her education, go back to University.' 'That's good, right?' Wesley sighed. 'It's very good, except.........' He shrugged and looked up at Doyle. 'Except she feels she would be unfair to both of us if we remained an item.' Doyle looked at him. 'You think there's someone else?' Wesley shook his head. 'I just felt rather in the way. And when she said how hot Angel and Spike sounded, I said fine, see you around.' He closed his eyes. 'And I told her I loved her.' Doyle was confused. 'After she said all that?' 'Oh no,' said Wesley, shaking his head again, 'before. I told her I loved her and she didn't say anything.' He smiled sadly at Doyle. 'Should have known then, I suppose.' Doyle nodded and then snorted, as something occurred to him. 'What is it?' 'I was just cursing my own luck. Seems like I've spread it to you!' Wesley stretched out and yawned. 'Well you can have it all back, with pleasure.' Doyle laughed. 'No thanks, man.' He caught Wesley's yawning and stretched his arms out. 'So what do we do now?' Wesley shrugged. 'I don't know. Maybe Cordelia will come around. She can't keep up the silent treatment forever.' Doyle shot him a look. 'Okay, so maybe she can.' Doyle picked up the bottles and took them back over to the kitchen, finding a bin he'd discovered the other day and dumping them in. 'You know what we should do, don't you?' 'What's that?' Doyle grinned at him. 'You and me should get together and go over to Angel's for a foursome with him and Spike.' Wesley stared a moment. Then he felt the chuckle coming from low in his belly. As he started laughing hard, Doyle joined in, moving back over to the couch. He sat down hard and put his feet back on the table, which promptly collapsed, spilling magazines everywhere. 'Oh shit.' 'Don't worry,' said Wesley and bent to pick them up. Doyle took in the seriousness of the man's expression and caught his breath. For all his bumbling pomposity, Wesley was an attractive man. Not in an Angel floaty coat way, or a blatantly sexy Spike stance, but he had a deep quality that Doyle not only respected, but wanted. If I do this now, he thought hazily, his mind tired from lack of sleep and worry, everything changes. There'll be no way back with Cordelia, no way of denying anything. I'll have to admit that I'm not the big straight guy I said I was. Hell I did that ages ago. Now I just have to deal with letting everyone else know. 'Wesley?' Wesley turned with the magazines in his hand and saw Doyle looking at him. Oh Heavens, he thought, Irish bloody eyes are doing more than smiling! He felt his tongue flick out and coat his lips in anticipation, before he even registered what he was doing. 'What is it?' Doyle stared for a moment and then stopped, looked down and laughed briefly. 'I must be bad at this.' 'At what?' The Irishman squinted up at Wesley. 'There must be some way that Angel and Spike sort this out.' 'Sort what out?' insisted Wesley. Doyle swallowed hard and met the Englishman's inquisitive gaze. 'Who begins a kiss?' Wesley looked down at the magazines before putting them down and taking his glasses off. 'I suppose it comes down to just.........' He moved in closer, before tracing his fingers over Doyle's worried forehead. The Irishman reached up to cover his hand and then, almost before they knew it, Wesley's mouth was pressing insistently against his own, the taller man's arms wrapping warmly round his back. Doyle's tongue found its way inside Wesley's mouth and he suckled on it, wondering at how different a man could taste. The last time they'd done this, he had been drunk and Wesley tried to remember if Doyle had tasted so coarse. It was so different than kissing Megan, so much.........warmer somehow. Doyle gave of testosterone in huge waves, his sweat seeming to sear into every sense Wesley owned. As the hands crept up his back, the demon-hunter almost laughed to himself at the picture they must have made. But he was as far from laughing as he could be, so involved was he in kissing the sensual creature in his arms. When they paused a little, to catch their breath, Doyle smiled as he breathed hard, aware that he'd enjoyed that more than he had kissing Cordelia. Wasn't life strange? 'Well I guess that works then.' 'Yes,' breathed Wesley. 'Well, we know what to do next time, then.' 'Oh,' grinned Doyle, his hand still holding Wesley's neck. 'You think there's going to be a next time?' Wesley moved as if to pull away. 'Hold it,' said Doyle, 'There's going to be a next time, Wes. I was just joking with you.' Wesley smiled and touched the wet lip that begged to be kissed. 'I think another kiss could be arranged.' He moved in to kiss Doyle again when Doyle felt it start to happen. 'Oh shit, no.........not now.' 'Doyle?' Doyle shuddered as the vision hit him hard, images swimming through his head. The woman screaming, terrified, running from the.........he couldn't see, she didn't know. Oh God but his head hurt. As the last of it ebbed away, he panted hard, collapsing into Wesley's arms, hearing the Englishman say his name soothingly, smooth hands stroking his forehead. 'Are you all right now?' Doyle shuddered, but managed to nod. 'I'm fine, but.........' 'What?' asked Wesley. 'What did you see?' He looked up at him. 'She's in trouble?' Wesley looked at him, confused. 'Who is?' Doyle closed his eyes. 'Cordelia.'
The phone was ringing. Angel struggled to open his eyes. He didn't tend to sleep a lot, partly because he didn't need to, mostly because Spike had much more entertaining alternatives, but he'd not managed to catch any downtime since his lover had left to search for Cribb in the tunnels, and Angel was exhausted. He was half amused to see that Spike had once again slid further down the bed, stretching out and resting an arm and a leg over his own. He could never get him to share a pillow, which Spike had teased was due to Angel's hair fetish, but the older vampire had come to regard this possessive sleeping pattern as cute, something that would annoy the hell out of the cocky vampire if he knew. Besides being cute, it was very constricting. The phone was on Spike's side of the bed, and despite its loud ring, the blond didn't seem to hear it at all. With a groan, Angel extricated himself from Spike's grasp and leaned over to pick it up. As he snatched it into his hands and lay back on his pillow, Angel wondered if he'd have more fun with a phone wire, wrapping it round Spike's wrists as he slept. That was a good plan for the future, but for now, Angel would have to settle for the sleek black cordless, the one with 'mine' scrawled on the back in silver pen - Spike had taken it quite literally when Angel had told him to mark his property. How he was going to remove the lettering on the bath tiles, Angel wasn't quite sure. 'Hello?' 'Angel?' Came the worried reply. 'Is that you?' Angel shifted and rolled onto his side, identifying Wesley easily. Spike rolled over and wrapped himself back round the older vampire, his head pressing against the crook of Angel's shoulder blades. 'Yeah, Wesley, it's me. What's up?' He heard the sigh down the phone and wondered how serious the problem was. There was something else, despite the crackling line, something that sounded vaguely familiar. 'Is Doyle with you?' 'Yes,' said Wesley, 'I'm afraid he's had a vision.' 'What was it?' asked Angel immediately. Spike was snuggling up against his side, shifting in a way that wasn't quite innocent. He's awake, the vampire realised, he's been awake all along. 'He thinks Cordelia's in trouble.' Angel frowned. 'Have you tried to phone her?' He could almost hear the ex-Watcher nodding. 'Yes, and she said she was quite all right.' Angel bit his lip lightly, thinking. Spike was kissing the space between his shoulders, flicking his tongue out and wetting the skin, then blowing on it. The sensations were giving Angel great difficulty in concentrating on anything. 'Did you tell her about the vision?' 'No,' said Wesley, 'I didn't think it fair to alarm her.' He paused a second. 'To be truthful, she was quite hostile towards me.' 'Why?' asked Angel and the second the word fell from his mouth he wanted to take it back. 'Oh, because of.........' 'Yes,' said Wesley, 'Quite.' He wasn't sure, but Angel thought that the man didn't sound as upset as he might have expected. In fact, he sounded quite upbeat, which was in itself unusual. 'You okay, Wesley?' 'Hmmm? Oh, I'm fine, a little worried about this vision, but unless we can find out more, I don't see what we can do yet.' Angel nodded, feeling Spike pressing against his back, his cock growing harder as it rubbed against Angel's skin. All he had to do was move a little, but Angel was determined to hold out until the end of the conversation. And that was going to be hard enough - Wesley didn't seem particularly keen to share. 'So, this vision - Cordelia was in danger. Didn't say from what?' 'Well, I rather gather.........' He trailed off and Angel wondered for a moment if he was still there. 'Wesley?' There was a pause and then, 'Hmm, yes, I'm still here.' 'What happened?' asked the vampire, aware that the erection teasing against his ass was a firm throbbing mass with a definite purpose. Get on with it Wesley! 'Nothing,' said the Englishman. 'Doyle just came back in, is all.' 'I thought you said he was there with you?' Wesley seemed to pause again. 'Yes, but he, ah. Well you know he likes to shower after these visions. Now, about Cordelia.' He went on to describe a creature that could be stalking the girl, but Angel caught the admiring tone within Wesley's voice. Surely it wasn't toward Doyle? Angel knew that they'd had that kiss in the night-club, but he'd gathered from Doyle's subsequent involvement with Cordelia, and Wesley's relationship with Megan, that they'd both chalked it up to experience and forgotten about it. Spike had commented from time to time that Wesley still seemed to hold a torch for the Irishman, but Angel had put it down to Spike trying to get a rise from the man. It was difficult to tell sometimes whether or not his lover was joking, but from the tone in Wesley's voice, Angel was prepared to bet that the vampire was once again, on the money. Although, and he found his body pressing backwards eagerly, he wasn't in the mood to gamble. 'Okay then, Wesley, I'll meet you at Cordelia's in an hour.' 'Yes,' said the demon-hunter, 'I'll try and research the creature Doyle described.' Spike hands started sliding up his chest, covering his nipples in wet finger-nails, tweaking already hard nubs. 'I'll be there,' managed Angel. 'Bye.' He slammed the phone down and rolled over, pinning the grinning vampire beneath his body, hard cock eagerly pressing against Spike's thigh. Spike didn't look upset at this turn of events. In fact, thought Angel with a growl, he looks thoroughly amused. 'Am I ever,' Angel began, 'going to finish a phone call without you getting me hard?' Spike grinned at his sire and rubbed upwards, sensing the shudder Angel gave as his cock pressed against him. 'No.' Angel looked at him a moment and then shrugged. 'Well I guess I should be relieved that you're honest.' Spike raised an eyebrow. 'Can still lie with the best of them, Peaches.' Angel got to his elbows, lips trembling within an inch of Spike's own. 'You are lying with the best of them, now why don't you tell me how much you want me?' Spike laughed. 'Piss off!' 'Oh,' said Angel, 'Really affectionate, that. I suppose I should just.........' He rolled off and started to get out of the bed, ready for the hand that grabbed his thigh. Angel turned to look at Spike, and read the hungry expression even before he'd seen it. And although he matched it, Angel wasn't going to give in without a little fun. 'So are you going to tell me then?' 'Tell you what, Pet?' asked Spike. 'Tell you that I'm drooling over you as much as Weasly just was over the mutt?' Angel paused. 'You heard that too?' Spike rolled his eyes. 'Nah, just heard you talking.' He seemed pleased with himself. 'Told you there was something going on, didn't I?' Angel slid back under the blankets, leaning on his elbow and drawing his hand up Spike's side. When he reached his waist, the younger vampire chuckled and pushed Angel's fingers away. 'Yeah,' said Angel, 'you did say.' Spike stretched out and gave Angel full access to his body. 'And you didn't believe me, Pet.' He grinned and turned his head. 'You should listen to me more often. Spike knows best.' Angel laughed. 'Oh really? Did you know I was going to do.........this?' He rolled quickly and pushed Spike onto his front, grabbing both wrists and holding them against Spike's ass. Angel pulled back a little, so that Spike's head wasn't buried in the pillow, but he didn't relax his grip. 'You bastard,' groaned Spike. 'And if that didn't say that your broody ass was up for something good, I'd have you flat out.' 'That a sex thing, or are you actually threatening to hurt me?' 'Could have you with one hand tied behind my back,' said Spike. Angel grinned and released a wrist. 'Go for it,' he smiled. Spike shook his head. 'Didn't say that you'd be holding that hand!' 'Can't do it, huh?' Spike growled and moved quickly, ripping his hand out of Angel's grip and pushing the vampire over, strong thighs pressing against his own. He kept both hands behind his back and buried his mouth into the crook of Angel's neck, his fangs sinking into the flesh as the older vampire's laugh turned abruptly into a moan, and then a growling pleasure. Sticky blood seeped into his mouth and Spike savoured the taste for a second before pulling back, straddling Angel's thighs with his own, hands still firmly behind his back. Angel groaned at the loss of contact, his eyes opening to Spike's dirty grin. 'Couldn't do it, eh?' Angel crossed his arms in front of him, still unsure how far they were going to take this. However it went, he didn't want to be accused of cheating, and as arms were clearly not necessary, he'd show this arrogant, devilish, disobedient.........horny little whelp who was Boss. Spike licked his fangs and grinned at his sire, well aware that Angel wouldn't back down. 'I could have you with my eyes closed.' Angel raised an eyebrow. 'Nothing impressive about that,' said the older vampire, 'I've never known you rely on sight when smell could do the job.' 'True,' admitted Spike. 'But I was thinking about a little hunting match - you, me, blindfolded with both hands tied up.' 'Doing what,' grinned Angel, casting a lecherous glance over the cock which jutted out, pressed against his own. Spike grinned and leaned forward, allowing himself to rub against Angel, the faint moan which slipped from his lover's lips stirring him on. 'You bloody know what, you old tart. Nah,' he went on, rocking easily against his sire, 'We should have a prize.' Angel groaned and pushed upwards. 'I'll take this,' he murmured. Spike laughed. 'Granted, Pet. But how about, the winner gets to give the loser a new tattoo?' Angel immediately thought about the fading marks across his backside. It was always going to bear Spike's name, he knew that, but the redness had already gone, leaving a faint whiteness in its place. He'd been toying with the idea of letting Spike get the ink out anyway, but he wasn't entirely against laying another mark on his childe, this one done out of love, rather than a possessive brand. He nodded up at Spike, lop-sided grin very much in evidence. 'You'd better get ready to start wearing a fallen angel then, Will.' Spike growled and bent down to Angel's neck, licking at the seeping blood. He moved his mouth to Angel's ear, nipping at the lobe and whispering, 'That's kind of cheap, Love. I was thinking more of a British Bulldog, right there on that ass of yours.' Angel laughed. 'A Bulldog? You're going to tattoo a bulldog on me? Spike licked at his neck again, grazing a fang along the vein which didn't throb. 'Might add the whole bloody flag as well, Pet. Depends on how good you are when I win.' Angel raised an eyebrow. 'And who says you're going to win?' Spike grinned. 'Piece of cake.' 'Really.' 'Oh yeah, Pet. I can beat your arse any day.' 'Go for it,' said Angel, ready to get up, but Spike shook his head. Hang on, Love. We'll do it, but we got a Bossy cow to sort out.' Angel looked at him. 'You're throwing me off because of Cordelia?' Spike grinned, and sat back up. 'Nah, but I'm not missing an opportunity to find out if Doyle and Weasly are getting it on.' 'You're possessed.' Another grin. 'Maybe, but can you think of anyone else you wanna be possessed with?' Angel thought about it for a second. 'Not this century.' Spike bit down. 'Better not be the next either, Pet.'