Title: The Dead Need Warmth Too
Summary: After the battle in NFA. Angel and Spike find themselves seeking comfort in each other, while Illyria waits for Gunn to be healed enough to get out of the hospital.
Warning: Mentions os character death, M/M, M/F, M/M/F, anal sex, voyeurism.
Disclaimer: As ever, the story idea is mine, but the characters aren't. Ever feel like you're getting the short stick?
Feedback: Needed and appreciated but not demanded.
Author's Note: Again, It's been about two years since I posted a fic, and though things are still pretty bad in my personal life, I've got my writing fingers back. Also, my writing classes did make me more comfortable in writing sex, so enjoy the fruits of their labour. XD
It had been six months since The Battle as they called it. Six months since the death of Wesley, the life-threatening condition of Gunn, the more physical scarring of Connor - six months since the people of LA turned a blind eye to the goings on around them, of dragons popping out of nowhere and thousands of demons rushing through the street on a hunt of two souled vampires, an ex-god, and a human hunter. Six months since the W&H building had collapsed and LA began rebuilding itself.
It had been four months, one week, and three days since Spike had fallen into bed with Angel, desperate to get away from the pain. It was too close to the fall of Sunnydale, of his death and re-birth as a ghost, to a vampire once more. Too many tragedies in too short of time, and his shiny new soul had been unable to cope alone.
Angel had come to Spike the day before, finding the younger vampire drunk of his arse in the small room he'd claimed, crying over the loss and cutting himself with the remains of his whiskey bottle. Angel had thrown him in the shower, forced a pot of coffee down him, and dumped him on his bed - only to wake up in his own a few hours later, Spike cuddling up to him, desperate for any comfort his once pseudo sire could give him.
They'd fallen into a routine not long after. During the night, they continued to prowl through the streets looking for any sign of the demons remaining, or any demons or vampires from out of time trying to make a name for themselves. During the day, they would patch themselves up, drink blood, shower, and fall into bed together.
They'd received word from Lorne just to let them know that he'd done his assignment and was settling down elsewhere, far from them and the 'good fight.' Connor was still around, but in Stanford, passing away the new scars on his face as an attempted mugging. Gunn, however, was still in hospital. He'd lost his right eye and came so close to having his left leg amputated in the fight. The surgical team had managed to save it - just - but he'd never walk the same again. Which meant his hunting days were over.
Illyria was still with them but they barely saw her - only knew that she also hunted during the night, pouring out her grief for the dead Wesley - and for Gunn, to a lesser extent.
Angel woke to the feeling of someone watching him. Frowning, he blinked his eyes open, only to sit up in alarm when he spotted Illyria standing by the door, head tilted to one side.
"What do you want?" he demanded more than asked. Over the past few weeks, she ex-god had picked up the annoying habit of wandering into the bedroom as she pleased. Often while they were having sex. Spike, undisturbed with people watching him, hadn't minded. Angel had, but he hadn't allowed it to stop him from taking his pleasure.
"He is not female, and both of you are dead, so this would not create child. But your human offspring is of two vampires. Will this result in more progeny?"
Angel blinked, then sighed. "No." Well, he hoped not. Spike would kill him if he wound up pregnant - and Angel had had enough in his past with mystical pregnancies, thank you very much.
"Then what is the purpose?"
"To, uh, have fun? To release energy?"
"It's just fucking, Blue," came Spike's raspy contribution to the conversation. He struggled to sit, leaning against Angel when he finally managed it. The bright red mark on his neck - still healing from last night and his near-decapitation - was surrounded by bruising and therefore making his voice more husky sounding. "It feels good, so why not?"
It was clear she didn't understand. "Show me."
"You've been watchin' enough," the younger vampire drawled. And he was still sore. Angel had been...displeased when Spike had almost gotten himself killed for 'showing off,' and had showed his annoyance by a rather long and vigorous fucking session, and Spike was pleasantly sore. "Insert A into B, thrust until satisfied. Repeat as needed."
"Show me," she demanded again.
Angel, more used to her now and feeling a lot of apathy since the death of his friends, the mutilation of his son and Gunn, simply glanced as Spike, his sheet-covered erection, to Illyria and back. He licked his lips. He knew the younger vampire would be sore, but Angel still hadn't gotten to punish him for fooling around and almost getting himself killed.
He shook his head. "Later," he grunted at her, laying back and pulling Spike with him so the blond was sprawled across his chest. "When we've fed." He grabbed Spike's hair and dragged his head down to his own nipple. Spike received the silent order and slid his fangs into Angel aureola, suckling his elder's blood.
The next day they stumbled into the hotel, tired but not injured. At least, nothing that wouldn't heal with a mug of two of blood. So they stumbled up to the room they shared and set the microwave. Angel found himself standing behind Spike, hands under his shirt and kissing his neck as the younger vampire poured the blood into the mugs and then into the microwave. The younger vampire then turned and Angel shoved him back against the counter, wedging on leg between Spike's to rub against his crotch.
Spike whimpered, shuddering as the older vampire plundered his mouth once more. He grabbed Angel's shoulders to give himself leverage to thrust against the teasing leg, groaning when the larger vampire pulled back with the beeping of the microwave, signaling their dinner ready.
They gulped down the blood and all but slammed the mugs on the counter. Spike barely had time to swallow the last mouthful when Angel yanked him forward by his shirt, immediately capturing his mouth as one hand wrapped around his waist and the other up his shirt, immediately zeroing in on his right nipple and playing with it.
Spike's own hands ran down Angel's arms before unbuttoning the shirt he wore - with some difficulty, because their bodies were so close together. During this time, the opening and closing of their bedroom door went unnoticed by the two vampires, as did their guest.
Angel slipped the shirt off his shoulders as soon as it was unbuttoned, uncaring that it would wrinkle while on the floor. Not wanting to loose the younger vampire's mouth, he tore the black t-shirt down the middle and shoved it off his shoulders. Spike whimpered and pulled back, planting his hands on Angel's chest to shove him back.
"You owe me a shirt," he growled, even as he began to work on his belt buckle.
Angel chuckled and grabbed his arm, stopping him. Spike found himself dragged to the bed and pushed down, the elder vampire leaning down to unlace and tug off the younger vampire's boots.
Illyria followed them still, standing by their door with head tilted to one side. She watched as Angel stripped Spike while the blond was laying on the bed, his hands playing with his own nipples as his sire tugged his jeans and socks off.
Angel gave a sinister chuckle, making Spike shudder, before lowering his head to bite Spike's thigh, drawing blood. The blond yelped, startled, but the older vampire placed his hands on the slim hips before moving his head to hover over Spike's groin, opening his mouth and letting the blood drip from it and onto Spike's balls. He soon lapped the spilled blood with his tongue even as he roughly spread Spike's legs further apart.
Angel let one hand fall from Spike's hip to between his legs, teasing the younger vampire's hole with a finger for a moment before rising to his feet and stripping. He moved to sit against the headboard and pulled Spike to him. The blond ended up straddling Angel with his knees either side of Angel's legs, opening him up to the ex-god's gaze. The older vampire kissed Spike again, even as he dipped his hand in the blood from the bite he'd put into the blond's thigh.
Abruptly, he shoved the bloody digit into Spike's anus, stifling his grunt of pain with his own mouth. Spike placed his hands on Angel's shoulder, gripping hard enough to leave bruises as one finger caused him delicious pain-pleasure.
Angel pulled his mouth away and turned to Illyria, still standing by the door. "Come kneel behind Spike if you want to see."
"I do not kneel." But she moved to sit behind Spike, watching Angel's busy finger.
"Whatever. Wet a finger - with blood or spit."
"Angel..." Spike gasped.
Illyria did so, wetting her right index finger with Spike's blood. Her hand nudged Spike's balls and he gasped again, panting suddenly as Angel began to kiss him again. Angel pulled his finger free and grasped her hand, guiding it to Spike's backside and slowly sliding her finger in before adding his again. Spike whimpered. Illyria, curious to the sounds he was making, placed her free hand around his ballsack, squeezing just enough to hurt.
"This is a prostate," Angel told her as they, together, pushed the button inside Spike and making him keen. "All men have one here."
"And on females?"
Spike gasped out a chuckle. "Different place, luv. Also, different name."
Angel added another finger and Illyria followed suit, the pair of them preparing Spike for entrance of something bigger than fingers. The slight dryness tore the sensitive tissue slightly, but the blond didn't complain, just whimpered and moved on their fingers.
After some time, the fingers withdrew and Spike found himself in a new position in the middle of the bed. He was on his knees, with his hands gripping the headboard. Angel was kneeling behind him, guiding his spit-slicked erection into Spike's barely prepared channel. Illyria was still beside them, watching them as curiously as ever.
Angel pushed until he was fully inside Spike, one hand gripping the blond's shoulder. His other hand grasped Illyria's and guided the ex-god's hand to Spike's own erection, guiding her on how to stroke the blond, giving him pleasure.
Soon Illyria was experimenting, speeding or slowing her hand, squeezing or twisting her hand. She brought her other hand to play with her 'pet's' balls again, also twisting and squeezing them. It wasn't until his panting god harsher that she withdrew her hands, making him whimper. Something inside of her was shifting, demanding attention. Angel's knowing chuckle should have annoyed her, but she was too busy trying to this new feeling than listening and swatting him for his impertinence.
Angel, who'd left the playing of Spike's erection to Illyria, had instead gripped the blond's hip and played with his nipples while nibbling his neck. But when she moved her hands, leant back slightly, he moved his hand to pull and squeeze Spike's erection until the younger vampire gave a keen and came, his dead fluid coating Angel's hand and the sheets below him.
Angel grabbed Spike's neck and forced him face first into the sheets as his thrusts became stronger, faster. He used the younger vampire's body as the blond slowly recovered. Finally, he sunk his fangs into Spike's neck as his own orgasm came upon him, spurting his release deep into his childe's bowels.
"Can you get rid of your armor? I can...help you with that feeling." Angel pulled back from Spike, let the younger vampire roll tiredly onto his back and stare at the both of them. He offered his sticky hand to Spike, who began to lick it clean.
The armor receded, leaving Illyria as naked as them. Following Angel's direction, she laid on her back and didn't move as he felt his fingers tentatively dive inside of her, a bit weary of driving his cock inside her less she squeeze it off.
"Why do you have him lick his seed if it is you who wanted it?" Illyria asked.
"Just 'cause," Spike answered for him.
"He made a mess, so he cleans it up. For a change," Angel smirked.
Spike rolled his eyes before rolling onto his stomach, reaching over to fondle Illyria's breasts as Angel's fingers drove her towards her orgasm.
"I want you inside me," she told Angel after a few minutes. "I find I am not finding satisfaction."
Angel followed her direction - not that he had much of her choice, what with her hand on a rather important part of his anatomy. Spike chuckled at him and she hit him - but gently - before grabbing the bleached locks and tugging until he was mouthing at her breast.
The older vampire settled above her and slowly entered, cantering his hips to stroke her clitoris, enjoying the way she clenched and shuddered beneath him.
Being a god - or even ex-god - meant that the recovery time between orgasms were far less of that of a vampire, both found out later. As she view Spike as her pet, she did not allow him to enter her, but gave him permission to use fingers and mouth. Angel took turns taking both of them, ordering Spike to fetch blood when he grew tired. After all, he was doing most of the work. Between the three of them, they were up all day and half the night just having sex. The two vampires then spent the next two days recovering.
It had been three years since The Battle. Three years since Wesley had died, since Lorne moved away, since Connor and Gunn were injured. Three years since the destruction of the W&H building. Almost three years since Angel and Spike fell into bed with each other for comfort, and later sex.
Illyria never joined them again, but did continue to watch. She saw Angel take Spike in many different ways; against a wall, on his back, riding Angel, and more - and watched Spike service Angel while on his knees; after they killed something, in the shower, in the office. She might have achieved orgasm while watching, she might not have; she didn't really care and just viewed them like test subjects.
When Gunn joined them a year after The Battle, it was Illyria who was the most attentive to him. Through his mood swings, his irritation of his limitations, through his nightmare-filled nights. It took a year more before he was mobile enough with just a cane, but he grew used to his lot in life. He may not be able to join in the hunt a lot, but he still got to kill things, and he was still of use in the office. And later, he was of use in the bed, tending to Illyria's needs as well as his own.
It was a strange dynamic, one they never talked about but knew of. They took comfort in and from one another, and that was all that mattered. Everyone else didn't matter, not the people they saved, and not the demons and vampires they slew. Even later, when Connor joined them full time with a wife and daughter, nothing was ever mentioned. Their sex life was a little more discreet for the child, but Connor knew full well what was happening. And years later, when Gunn was once again injured and dying, he begged to be turned - and rose three nights later, a spell-forced soul in his body, to stay with his dysfunctional family.