The Birthday Present | By : SpikesEvilbint Category: Angel the Series > Slash - Male/Male Views: 9959 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Spike turned over and groaned as his head felt like it was going to explode. For a terrifying moment he thought that he was back in clutches of an owner and that his chip had fired. He curled up into a ball and sobbed with relief when he realised that he’d got the hangover from hell and not an active chip in his head.
He closed his eyes and tried to calm down using the deep breathing techniques that Philippe had taught him. As he relaxed he smiled at how stupid he’d thought they were. Vampires don’t need to breathe, he’d reminded the Frenchman. But he’d had to eat his words. It worked. He missed Philippe. He was tall and suave – the archetypical image of a Frenchman and Spike had never known anyone – not even a vampire – with his energy levels. Apart from when he’d been unloading all of his baggage on Philippe, he’d never really seen the man sit still.
Spike thought of what he was going to do today and almost reached for the cell phone to talk to him, to ask his advice. But his hand fell short of it as he knew exactly what Philippe would say – he’d said it countless times before. That was why Spike was here. If it all went horribly wrong, he’d catch the return flight tomorrow and settle in Europe.
That’s if he could get to the airport. They all knew that there was a very real risk that he wouldn’t be able to. Spike shuddered as he thought of his grandsire. If he were captured and remained in The Initiative there wouldn’t be a merciful mind alteration for him. They’d want him all too aware of what was going on. Spike closed his eyes and fondled his balls. He was quite attached to them and would prefer them to remain attached to him!
He closed his hand around his cock and teased it to life. Using the same image as he had since he’d escaped to France to bring it to life. With a cry, Spike came, sending milky white spendings over his stomach. He rubbed his hand over his belly, spreading the sticky fluid. He threw the sheets back and looked at his hand. The urge was still there, to lick it clean, but it was with relief that he made his way to the shower and let the hot water and soap remove the evidence of his release.
He dressed carefully, wishing that he had something other than the suit to wear. In France it had seemed pretty cool, now it felt over the top and daft. Spike sighed. It would have to do. He had avoided crowds of humans since his escape and he had no intention to hit the mall looking for casual attire.
His mouth was dry as he took out the piece of paper with the address on it. He glanced at his wristwatch. Time to go. He tried a couple of deep breaths but they ended up turning into pants.
“Oh, shite.”
He could barely do up the buttons of his suit jacket because of the way his hands were trembling.
“Pull yourself together, you soft git,” he growled, allowing his features to vamp out for a moment.
He licked the blood from the left corner of his mouth, grabbed the keys from the table and almost ran to the car, afraid that he’d stop and turn back if he walked slowly. When he got to his destination he realised that he was early. Shit! He didn’t want to be the one waiting. He considered walking up and down the street for a while but figured that’d look a bit odd given that he was dressed like a poncey twat in a suit and stood out like a sore thumb.
Bollocks!
He settled on waiting as far out of sight as possible but with clear view of the door.
Ten minutes later, he was glad that his heart couldn’t beat, as it would surely have stopped anyway when he saw who he was waiting for. He dipped his head but kept up a surreptitious surveillance on his target. He watched as the man picked a table in the opposite corner of the café to where Spike was sitting. Spike forced himself to count to twenty before he got up and on unsteady legs walked towards the man.
He approached from behind and with French accented English spoke in the man’s ear.
“May I join you?”
“What?” Lindsey twisted around not really looking at the blue suited man but at the numerous empty chairs. “Sorry, but I don’t want to be disturbed. There are plenty of other tables.” He turned around and sipped at his coffee.
“That’s a shame,” said Spike in his normal accent. “I was kind of hoping that you’d say yes.”
Lindsey froze, cup halfway to his lips. The lips that Spike had fantasised about for months. Spike smirked as he recalled exactly what those lips had been up to in his mind. When Lindsey remained stationary, Spike walked around the table and sat down opposite him, the legs of his chair squeaking on the floor as he shuffled it forwards.
“L-Lindsey?” he whispered.
Lindsey slowly put his cup down but still didn’t speak or look at Spike.
“Shit. Look, I shouldn’t have come. I’ll just –”
“Stay where you are,” growled Lindsey, his voice low and dangerous.
“O-okay,” said Spike, trying and failing to keep his nerves out of his voice. Why did I ever think that he’d want me? I killed his father, for God’s sake! “Lindsey?”
“Shut up! Not a word.” Lindsey ran his hands through his too long hair.
For the first time, Spike really took in his former owner’s appearance. He looked like shite. His hair was hung in greasy rat’s tails and his clothes looked a size too big. For no real reason, Spike felt ashamed that he was so well dressed and doing all right–ish. Lindsey obviously wasn’t.
“I-I’m s-sorry.” Spike couldn’t help but reach out to touch Lindsey’s hand. He gasped as Lindsey grabbed his wrist and met Spike’s eye for the first time.
“Sorry? You’re fucking sorry?”
Spike shrank back at the venom in his words and tried to pull free, but Lindsey squeezed hard enough to make Spike yelp as the coating on his skin made his wrist erupt in pain. Lindsey abruptly wrenched Spike towards him and when his face was within reach, he punched Spike with all his might and let go of his arm. Spike flew backwards scattering chairs and upturning a table before finally ending up at the feet of a prim looking woman.
He’d broken his nose enough times to know that Lindsey had succeeded in doing it again. Blood dribbled out of it and he fought the urge to vamp out.
He staggered to his feet. Nodded to the woman and then dared to glance at Lindsey. “I deserved that I reckon,” he muttered as he wiped his nose on his arm.
“Get out! Get out! Or I’ll call the cops!” the tiny Chinese owner of the café yelled furiously, his arms flailing wildly.
The last thing that Spike needed was to be hauled away by the cops, which would be swiftly followed by a one way trip to The Initiative. Instead of simply taking flight, Spike looked at Lindsey. What does he want to happen? For a long moment they stared at each other.
Lindsey cursed quietly and tossed a bunch of notes on the table. “We’re going. We’re sorry. That should pay for any damage.” Lindsey inclined his head to Spike. “Come on.”
Spike followed him gratefully, but knew that he wasn’t out of the woods yet. He walked about a pace behind Lindsey as they strode briskly along the street. Lindsey never once checked to see if Spike was there. Spike couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not. At least it seemed to prove that Lindsey didn’t think that Spike was there to attack him.
After ten minutes, Lindsey turned into a park, found a bench and sat down. Spike hesitated, shifting from foot to foot in front of him.
“Oh, sit down, for fuck’s sake,” growled Lindsey.
Spike sat.
He sat down so quickly that both of them momentarily closed their eyes as it reminded them of when Spike had no option but to obey Lindsey’s words as rapidly as possible.
After what seemed like an hour, Spike opened his mouth to speak but Lindsey beat him to it.
“So. You’re back.”
Spike cocked his head on one side and had to bite back a remark about how dumb college boys were these days. Instead he simply waited for more. His palms were clammy and he wiped them on his knees before clasping them together. It made him look like he was praying, and inside he was.
Lindsey turned to look at him. Spike ached to touch the lines that had formed on his face since he’d last seen it.
“You look good,” said Lindsey, a sad smile barely touching his lips.
Spike dropped his eyes and shrugged. “Thanks.”
“I miss the bleach blond though.”
Spike looked at him through his lashes. “Couldn’t be arsed with it anymore.”
Lindsey smiled sadly. “Shame.”
I’ll bleach it every sodding day if you want me to! Spike dare not say it out loud. It was too much to hope for that Lindsey would want anything to do with him. Tara and Philippe were right. He should have stayed in France. He sighed deeply.
“Lindsey?” he asked quietly, continuing even though his words weren’t acknowledged. “I just w—”
Lindsey turned to him and spoke quickly. “Come home with me.”
Spike stared at him, his mouth falling open a little. It wasn’t a request. But then, Spike had never been in a position to have Lindsey merely ask him anything.
“Okay.” Spike couldn’t have said otherwise even if his very existence had depended on it.
He stood when Lindsey did and repeated his actions of following at the man’s shoulder as they walked. Spike was surprised that they headed not for the apartment that they had shared or for Lindsey’s parents’ house, but to a more rundown neighbourhood. Spike wrinkled his nose at the overflowing trashcan that they passed as Lindsey went down some stone steps to a basement apartment.
“I moved,” said Lindsey, redundantly.
Spike nodded and almost vamped out so that he could see the dark interior more clearly from the doorway. It looked dingy and uncared for – not unlike its occupant. Lindsey turned and looked at him.
“Come in, Spike.”
He couldn’t help but smile as he stepping into Lindsey’s home. No matter how many times it had happened – the disappearance of an impenetrable barrier after only a few words – always amazed him. His smile disappeared as Lindsey strode up and got right in his face.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” His right index finger jabbed Spike’s chest with every word.
Spike took a step back. Even though he was un-chipped and could defend himself, he still was un-nerved by confrontation. He glanced at the door longingly, but knew that he needed to let Lindsey vent his anger to try to assuage the guilt that crippled him over the killing of McDonald. He didn’t regret ending his tormentor’s life as such but knew that by doing it he’d hurt the one person that he truly loved. In the fucked up mess of what he called his life all that he craved was the soft touch of Lindsey once more.
What he got for the second time in half an hour was the definitely not soft touch of Lindsey’s fist on his face. Spike fell down, landing half on a battered looking leather couch. Before he could react, Lindsey was on him. Fists flying, spittle hitting Spike’s face as Lindsey screamed at him.
“You killed my dad!”
Punch.
“Do you know what that did to Mom?”
Slap.
“I didn’t know where you’d gone!”
Kick.
This hit Spike’s balls and he grunted as pain coursed through him. Wouldn’t hardly have hurt if I had been Angel, thought Spike hysterically as more blows rained down on him. He slid off the couch and curled into a ball to try to protect himself. Not once did he think about turning on Lindsey.
Lindsey’s screams descended into sobs and the strength of the blows began to fade. Spike could hardly make out Lindsey’s words, but then he went rigid as six words got through to his brain.
“Why do I still love you?”
Spike grabbed Lindsey’s arms as he unfurled his limbs from his defensive position.
“What did you say?” he managed to croak.
Lindsey’s eyes met his own and the pain in them was clear for Spike to see.
“Why do I still love you after all that you’ve done, after all that I’ve done? Why did I ever want a fucking remote controlled vampire in the first place? I’m fucking sick, twisted, a fr—”
“Shut up!” howled Spike and startled by the volume, Lindsey did just that.
“Y-you l-love me?” Spike’s voice was thick with emotion.
Lindsey tried to free himself from Spike’s grip, but Spike was stronger and held him fast. Lindsey dropped eye contact and nodded, his greasy hair covering his face.
“I know that you don’t love me,” said Lindsey brokenly. “How the fuck could you after all that’s been done to you?” He glanced up at Spike for a moment and then looked away again. “I had you filled with drugs, took your memories, had those fucking piercings done –”
“That was your father,” whispered Spike.
“But I liked them.”
Lindsey tried to pull free again and this time Spike let him. He remembered all too clearly the pain of the day that he had to stand in the bedroom for Lindsey to see him. Hands secured together behind his back with those hateful rings in his hands. Cock bound and clipped to the chain at his waist. He’d seen the lust in Lindsey’s eyes and had recognised that his owner had been turned on by it.
Lindsey, once free of Spike’s clutches, stood up and walked several steps away.
“Fuck, you looked so hot.” His voice was low. “But then, you always did.” He looked over his shoulder. “Still do.” Lindsey put his hands to his head and dropped slowly to his knees. “Oh, Christ.” His sobs returned.
Spike didn’t know what to do. The rage, he was expecting but not this. He’d hoped-dreamed-that Lindsey might still want him, but never really thought it had any chance of being anything but that – a dream.
He crawled to where Lindsey was kneeling. “Lindsey…”
Lindsey shook his head. “I gave you to my dad for a smart fucking apartment.” He bent forwards until his head touched the floor.
“Need your arse a bit higher for position number four,” said Spike unable to keep from drawing a comparison.
Lindsey shuffled around to face him. “Is that what you want to do? Fuck me, like I fucked you all those times?” Tears fell slowly down his face.
Hell, yes! Spike thought, although he had never up to that point wanted anything more than have Lindsey fill him up.
“Go ahead,” said Lindsey as he put his back to Spike once more. “Do what you like. I deserve it for giving you to Dad.”
“And I don’t deserve to touch you because of killing him.” Spike stood up and sighed deeply.
“You should have killed me too. Why didn’t you come after me?” Lindsey asked the question that he’d wanted the answer to for so long.
Spike walked to the door. “Because I knew that I loved you.” He couldn’t look at Lindsey but heard the sharp intake of breath. “I hated myself for it for a long time, but I can’t shake it off.”
His hand touched the door but before he reached the handle, he was slammed into it. Rough hands pulled him around until they were face to face. They stared at each other before Lindsey pressed his body against Spike’s, his weight pinning the vampire in place.
Both moaned as their groins rubbed together. Spike could feel the hard bulge of Lindsey’s cock rubbing against his own. Then suddenly, they were ripping off each others’ clothes. Spike winced when the buttons flew from the front of his jacket as Lindsey’s hands pawed it off. But then felt no remorse when he ripped Lindsey’s t-shirt in two.
They mashed their mouths together and tongues instantly quested to find each other. Spike made sure that Lindsey felt the presence of the tongue stud. The man paused in his attentions for a second when he did.
“It’s okay. I like it. Its fun,” whispered Spike.
Lindsey resumed his kissing and somehow the pair made it to the couch, losing all of their clothes, apart from socks, along the way. Lindsey broke the kiss, gasping for air. He stared at Spike and then sank to his knees in front of the sofa, resting his elbows on it.
“So how high do you need my ass?”
Spike swallowed hard. He bent down and stroked his fingers lightly from the nape of Lindsey’s neck to the cleft between his buttocks. Spike felt him tense and knew that Lindsey had never bottomed before and no matter how much he wanted it, he would find the first time uncomfortable. Spike wasn’t sure that he could be gentle. Not today.
“No, pet. I want you inside me,” he whispered. He lay on his back on the sofa next to where Lindsey was resting his elbows. Spike lifted his knees to his chest. “Want to see your face.”
Spike hooked his legs over Lindsey’s shoulders as he slowly, tentatively, reached out to touch Spike’s genitals. Spike hissed with pleasure as Lindsey’s hand moved along the length of his cock, then disappeared beneath his balls to find Spike’s entrance.
Spike’s cock twitched when Lindsey licked his fingers before breaching Spike. Although Spike hadn’t had sex since Angel had raped him, the severe damage done by his grandsire and McDonald meant he could never be as tight as he used to be. For a moment he worried that he’d disappoint Lindsey. He opened his mouth to say something, but Lindsey’s fingers crooked inside him and a thrill ran though him as they hit the prostate sensor.
Lindsey laughed softly. “I guess that still works.”
Aware that most of the time he’d had sex with Spike, he’d been totally selfish, Lindsey went out of his way to make sure that Spike’s enjoyment knew no bounds. He matched the thrusts of his cock with the pull on Spike’s cock, and by hitting the senor every time, Spike was soon lost to sensation. When Lindsey felt Spike on the brink of orgasm, he thrust deeper and brought them both to a heady climax. As his warm seed pumped into Spike’s body, he felt the familiar feel of Spike’s cold spendings run down his fist.
Panting hard, Lindsey leaned forwards and marvelled at how supple Spike was as he almost bent him in two, and kissed him.
Spike moaned at the loss as Lindsey’s softened cock slipped out of him. He pulled Lindsey onto the sofa beside him.
“Oh, Linds…”
They held each other for a long time, before the stickiness on Spike’s chest began to dry and tighten on his skin. Lindsey went down on Spike in the shower, knowing that his own cock wouldn’t get hard for a while. He’d not come so intensely in a long time.
They lay entwined together in bed, the mattress was lumpy but neither noticed as they talked for hours. Lindsey was surprised when Spike asked if he had any hot chocolate in the kitchen and with a chuckle, he made them both a mug full before they settled down to sleep.
Almost as soon as Spike drank the last drop, the vampire was asleep. Lindsey took the mug from his limp grip and put it on the floor beside the bed. He stroked Spike’s brow as his sleep deepened to the extent that his breathing stopped. Lindsey got off the bed once he was satisfied that Spike was soundly asleep, picked up the mugs and took them into the kitchen. He washed them both under the tap before putting them upside down on the drainer.
He picked up the small brown bottle from where he’d left it on the counter. It was empty now. He’d had the vampire sedative for a long time. Left over from all of the supplies he’d had for Spike.
He went back to the bedroom and climbed in next to Spike, but remained sitting up. He traced Spike’s chiselled features with his finger-tips.
“I’m sorry, Spike. It’s for the best.”
Lindsey reached for his cell phone and dialled the number from memory.
“Send a truck round to my apartment.” He gave the directions. “I have something that needs to be collected.”
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