Because I love Kita

[thebratqueen]

Spike's body is hard, familiar. Angel thrusts him up against the wall, slamming him there like he was ready to do a strip search, except boy wasn't that pretty much redundant by now?

"In the mood for romance tonight, are you?" Spike asks, giving him a dry look over his shoulder.

"Shut up, boy," Angel tells him. He grabs Spike by the back of the throat, getting him right in that spot that told him to go limp or else there'd be trouble.

Spike responds. Angel knows better than to think it is true submission. There'd be bickering and eye rolling later. Not because either of them hadn't liked it but because they were both too cat-like to admit real need for each other.

Instead they could fight a lot, and get a few fucks in during the downtimes.

Angel has had a rough day. There'd been one too many problems, one too many comments, one too many things which made the soul too difficult to deal with.

Spike doesn't care about things like that. He can take a beating and keep coming. In fact he encourages it. Like now, when Angel moves his hands up around Spike's wrists, increasing the pressure of his hold until he could feel even preternatural bones creaking underneath his fingers.

"Bloody, fucking - " Spike archs his back, moving away from the touch that he can't get out of, moving into Angel's body where Angel himself is already erect and wanting. No surprise there, so is Spike. Some kinks run in the family. Angel ups the ante and Spike cries out in pain. "Jesus! Angel - "

"No," Angel says, immediately correcting him.

There's a pause. The wheels are turning in Spike's brain. When the hesitation goes on too long he presses his full weight into Spike's body, reminding his grandchild that Angel doesn't need his hands free in order to break the rest of Spike's bones.

"Try again," Angel tells him.

Spike risks a glance over his shoulder. Angel can see the deeper thought there - the questions that Spike his asking himself but, wisely, does not ask aloud.

Instead Spike picks the smarter route. The one Angel himself taught him to take.

"Sorry," Spike says, "Da."

Angel relaxes, taking comfort in the familiar name. He game faces himself, rewarding Spike with the feel of fangs along his shoulder. "Good boy. Now spread your legs wider. I want to enjoy myself."

Spike complies, and it's not long before Angel feels much, much better.