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thatotherperv ([personal profile] thatotherperv) wrote2006-06-19 06:44 pm
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Backup: the Won't Back Down sequel

I need to start posting this like I need a hole in the head, but the Won’t Back Down boys are being *so* noisy lately in my head, jumping up and down and waving their arms at me for attention. And I already have a good bit of it written. So...here we go. If you’re interested and missed em, there are two interluding ficlets in memories under the link below: one for the boys (the bathroom pwp), one for Xander/Faith (relatively non-porny, a twist on The Zeppo). I was gonna write one for Oz/Willow, but had no motivation, since they’re so canonical here.

WBD was pretty carefree, but some bad things are gonna happen in this fic. *coughs* Just warning you. but now they're not alone <points to title>

although an alternative title might be, Hey Look They *Do* All Have Parents. but that's too long.

Title: Backup: the Won’t Back Down sequel
Author: Mel ([livejournal.com profile] btvslover82)
Pairing: Spangel
Rating: NC-17 slash, some het elements but no more than PG-13
Summary: teen human AU sequel to WBD, the boys learn how to be men and face the world together. Um, some less pretty things are gonna happen here. I’m just sayin’.
Disclaimer: the characters belong to Joss and ME...alas, alack.
Feedback: please :)

Won’t Back Down and related ficlets are here



“Love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction.” ~Antoine de Saint-Exupery



“You gonna do it this time, or are you gonna welch again and leave me hangin’?” Spike wriggled eagerly in his place in Angel’s lap, stretched out across the bench of the DeSoto. He nibbled at Angel’s neck persuasively.

“I’m not welching, I’m just…look, I promise we’ll do it someday, alright? I just don’t know if I’m ready.”

“Pet, there’s nothin’ to be scared of,” he cajoled sweetly. “Quit bein’ a nancy boy.” Well—he only had so much patience.

“Easy for you to say. It’s too big. It freaks me out.”

Spike pulled back to look at him. “You didn’t have a problem last time, with the other one. This is no different.”

“It’s so much bigger, Spike! I could get lost in there, and you wouldn’t find me for days.”

Spike rolled his eyes. “It’s my house, tosser, not a bleedin’ labyrinth. No minotaur, I swear.”

Angel sulked. “Can’t we go in some other time? What’s wrong with doing it in your car?”

Spike scoffed. “Much as I have a kink for fuckin’ you out of your skull in public, Peaches, it’s takin’ a toll on my back. Wouldn’t you like some privacy and a soft place to land, for once?”

Angel brooded and looked away. He had some strange reservation about coming inside the mansion. Spike had been trying to get him there for weeks. You would think it wouldn’t be so difficult when the incentive was a go at Spike’s arse, but still, Angel resisted.

Spike pulled away, kneeling up. “Angel, I’m tired of this. Suck it up and get on with it.” At the use of his actual name, Angel looked up and sighed, consenting while still looking very put-upon.

“Not gonna be painful. Unless you beg for it,” Spike teased. A smile twitched at Angel’s lips. “Come on.”

Taking one of Angel’s hands in his own, Spike lead him into the house and gave him the tour through the main living space—living room, dining room, kitchen. Most of the rooms in the house were empty, save this remodeled portion of the main floor, and four or five of the bedrooms upstairs—master suite which was nearly always empty, Spike’s room, a game room, a couple of guest rooms. The previous owners had installed the modern comforts, but they too had little use for most of the space, and large portions were unrenovated. No one entertained anymore on the scale this house was built for, and there were no live-in servants, so that wing was empty. It was a dinosaur from a leftover era, half-useless, and Spike wondered again why his father felt compelled to buy the place, other than the obvious compensation for his manhood. There was even a dusty old ballroom in the back, not that he was going to show that to Angel, twitchy as he was already.

Spike tried to see the place as Angel must see it. He supposed it must be intimidating. The mansion had traces of its original opulence in the stonework and flourishes, built for a time when affluence was something to be flaunted, not coyly concealed. And it was probably obvious that his mum had dropped a heavy chunk of change furnishing and decorating the place with her expensive tastes, before she’d buggered off.

When Spike turned back, Angel was staring with dark eyes at one of the expensive, though hideously ugly, paintings on the wall of the living room. Spike, feeling just a little awkward, decided to take pity on Angel’s obvious discomfort.

He angled his body toward Angel’s big frame. “I know, hideous, innit? Supposed to be some great work of art, but her tits are all strange and pointy. Who wants to get their eye taken out by a nipple, yeah?”

To his relief, a smile broke over Angel’s face, and Spike chuckled in response, a hot feeling in his belly over how the expression flattered the other boy.

He tugged at Angel’s hand. “C’mon. Haven’t shown you the most important room in the house.”

~*~*~*~

Moaning, Spike kept his arms stretched over his head, because the gesture had made Angel’s eyes glaze over as he licked his lips. Angel was currently playing keep-away with Spike’s cock, gnawing and laving and breathing hot against Spike’s lower belly. Spike’s insistent thrusts and wheedling only earned him amused glances and evil smirks from the ponce. Spike really needed to teach him the virtues of being forthcoming with the blowjobs. Angel got off on delaying the inevitable.

But when Angel bypassed his cock altogether, rolled Spike’s legs up, and dove tongue-first into Spike’s hole, Spike realized with a hoarse shout that Angel knew precisely what he was about. And thank fuck for that. The slick muscle was probing and twisting inside of him, setting off flares in front of his eyes, and Spike gave up the pretension of restraint to scrape his fingernails eagerly over Angel’s scalp.

Angel withdrew and studied Spike’s face as he blew cold air against the saliva-coated pucker, sending a zing up Spike’s spine. The wanker hadn’t so much as touched his cock yet, and when Spike tried to take the matter in hand himself, Angel slapped him away.

Spike made a sound of frustrated disgust, and Angel grinned. “I think I like your house after all,” he said smugly, puffing air against Spike’s neglected bum. “The bed,” Angel specified, hand testing the mattress pointedly.

“Tosser,” Spike muttered.

Angel chuckled. “Actually, I’m not. Isn’t that what’s got you so cranky?” He laughed harder, low and sexy, when Spike glared at him.

But Angel apparently knew what was good for his continuing health and sex life, because he proceeded to probe and stretch purposefully with cooled fingers as he mouthed at the shaft of Spike’s cock, wringing low moans and filthy words from him. His hips strained upwards, trying to follow when Angel pulled away to hover over his torso.

Angel smiled down at Spike, hot and bright, as he pushed forward into his body. Breathing hard past the lump in his throat, Spike pulled him down to slide his mouth over soft lips, needing the personal contact despite himself. He hadn’t let the Three Words slip yet, powerful as they were, but the emotion haunted him sometimes, when the sex was sweet and slow, or when Angel smiled like that. He was fairly sure Angel felt the same way, but that particular confession had never worked out in Spike’s favor in the past, and he was shy of being first.

Angel pumped into Spike with long slow strokes, graceful in his big body, and when Spike threw his head back, Angel’s lips grasped at the soft skin of his throat, soft-mouthing it, tasting. Spike’s arms were wrapped around Angel’s shoulders, his legs wrapped around his waist. The embrace felt…not right, clingy, given these soft emotions dragging him under. His chest felt tight.

“Wait,” he said suddenly, and Angel paused, pulling back to look at him, brows drawn. “Want a different position,” he explained, and the concern in Angel’s face uncoiled as he nodded and let Spike nudge him off, onto his right side.

When Spike fitted his back against Angel’s front, Angel wrapped an arm around Spike’s waist, pulled him close, guided himself back into Spike’s body. It was better, with one of Angel’s arms propped under Spike’s neck to wrap across his chest, the other around his waist. Secure, hugged back against the large body. Angel was rocking minutely into Spike, mouth working at the base of his neck as his breath panted over him in time with his thrusts. This way, Angel couldn’t see his expression, which Spike was afraid said too much.

Angel’s rocking motions accelerated, eliciting a matching speed from Spike’s heart. Angel’s right hand slid across to pinch at Spike’s nipple, tugging and making Spike whine and arch forward with his chest, push back with his pelvis. Angel grunted with satisfaction against his neck and doubled the pace of his hips. The shift in angle had Angel’s cock rubbing consistently against his prostate, and it felt so good that it hurt to breath.

The back of Angel’s hand brushed against the head of Spike’s cock just before he clasped it in a firm grip. “Ohh, fuck yeah, pet—please—” Spike’s body undulated restlessly against Angel, caught between thrusting forward into Angel’s hand or back onto Angel’s cock, between pressing towards against the mouth on his shoulder, or being pulled forward by the fingers on his nipple. His own hands flexed empty against his own body.

Spike reached back with a flailing hand until he found Angel’s rear end, and his palm closed over the rhythmically flexing muscle, fingers squeezing at the give in the flesh. He loved Angel’s arse. Angel groaned and flicked his tongue out at his ear, hand squeezing at Spike’s cock as he pumped it, and Spike groaned right back. He could feel the tingling contractions starting to flutter in his balls, and he stilled Angel’s other hand at his nipple in his effort to clasp it, until Angel’s fingers interlaced with his reassuringly.

Angel panted against his ear. “I love—” Spike’s breath caught and he closed his eyes. “I love when it’s like this,” Angel finished, voice deep and rumbling against Spike’s ear, so that the vibration tingled pleasantly through his body to where Angel was buried deep. “When it’s slow and hot and you melt against me, speechless. I love it when your mouth gapes open like you can’t even find the words to say how good it is, and I love the way you always want me wrapped around you, and most of all,” Angel pushed his mouth closer, voice dropping another octave, “I love it when I make you do this.”

Angel began to wank Spike at a furious pace, and the orgasm that had been clutching at Spike’s backbone throughout Angel’s dirty talk clawed its way towards the base of his skull and imploded, taking root even as Angel’s teeth closed over the skin there. Spike’s body convulsed, went rigid, his hand clamped down painfully on Angel’s, and the sound that ripped from his throat was prolonged and raw. Angel convulsed into Spike balls-deep and spasmed further as he came, as if he could crawl inside.

They slumped against each other, sweaty, not moving, hands open and limbs relaxed, catching their breath. There was too much body heat radiating between them, but it didn’t seem desirable or worth the effort to separate.

“Well,” Spike managed, “someone’s gotten better at dirty talk.” Angel laughed behind him, body jarring Spike’s until he joined in. They quieted into grins.

As their bodies cooled, Spike realized they reeked to high hell, having come from the gym, but he felt too good to care. Angel pulled away to discard the condom, and Spike collapsed happily onto his back. When Angel slid back into bed beside him, he took Spike’s hand and held it against his chest, absently stroking the palm with this fingers.

After a lazy while, Angel propped his other hand behind his head. “Faith brought Xander by the shop yesterday.”

Spike side-eyed him, amused at the gruffness in his voice. “That so?”

Angel grunted. “He’s alright. She has him wrapped around her little finger anyway.”

That made Spike laugh. “Imagine that.”

Angel regarded him suspiciously. “You don’t sound surprised.”

Spike snorted. “About what? About your ball-busting best friend leading that silly bugger around by the nose? Yeah, that wasn’t predictable at all, mate.”

Angel pulled a face. “That’s why she needs a real man, with a backbone.”

Spike grinned wryly at him. “He’s hardly a pushover, as I’m sure she’ll find out. No worries.” Angel was noncommittal, but that was alright. Spike didn’t need to win every argument, just most of them.

He thought of the strangeness between them earlier, downstairs.

“You know, it’s just a house,” he said quietly. Angel looked away, until Spike pulled his face back. When his eyes finally clicked back onto Spike’s, Spike continued. “Just a place to lay my head at night. Don’t make it out to be more than it is.”

After a tense moment, Angel nodded, though Spike was sure that wasn’t the end of it. Angel pulled him up against his side. A while later, the stink of them started to get to Spike, and he remembered one of the advantages of getting Angel in the house: the shower.

Spike rubbed his toes up and down the inside of Angel’s calves. “You know, pet, we could use a wash. You could have me all slick and wet in about two minutes. And it’s very roomy in there.”

Angel’s mouth twitched. “You’re trying to kill me.”

Spike grinned wickedly. “But wouldn’t it be a good way to go?”

gimme more

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