*****

Spike:

Dru stopped in the doorway and let Angel cross the room to where Spike sat. The fire snapped and the golden light bathed the chiseled lines in the tall brunette's face. With that derisive, self-satisfied smirk tugging his lips, Angel was infuriatingly beautiful.

"Nice wheels," he said. "Very sexy look."

Spike bit the insides of his cheeks so hard he tasted blood. Looking Angel up and down, he noted the fuzzy white sweater under his leather jacket. "What's this?" he chided, reaching up with confident fingers and touching Angel right in the center of his tight belly. "Soft as a bunny's ass. Bet the slayer will get her little pink fingers all over you in that."

Angel's smirk melted away to an icy stare. "Look, let's get something straight, rolling boy. Don't talk about her. Not at all. I don't want to hear your obnoxious cracks or your insipid jokes. Just don't mention her. If you do, I'm outta here-and you never get outta there." He nodded to the wheelchair.

"We both know I'll heal myself in time," Spike said. "You're only here because my girl is getting tired of drivin' in the sack." He winked at Drusilla in the doorway and she tittered like a school girl.

Angel looked back at her with a covetous glimmer in his eye. "That's funny, Dru. You always liked being on top with me. You used to ride me like a pony, baby."

With the same hand he'd used to pet Angel's fuzzy jumper, Spike hooked the waistband of the older vampire's jeans. When Angel looked down at him, Spike pulled him forward until his knees knocked the chair's armrest. They stared at each other.

"As long as we're pissin' lines in the sand, mate, listen up. Keep your sodding hands off Drusilla while you're our guest. Understand?"

Angel laughed coldly and mock-trembled. "Ooo! You're so terrifying in that thing, Spike. I'm shaking in my shoes."

Spike gave a sudden tug on Angel's waistband and the brunette lost his balance. His hands landed on the chair's armrests for support and his hips dropped right down into Spike's lap. Angel had to flinch back to keep their noses from colliding.

"Easy, fella," Angel said.

Spike watched his face for the signs he knew he would see there. The proximity worked on Angel immediately and his cocky expression went slack. His tongue tracked slowly over his lips and his lashes fluttered slightly. Spike knew Angel's mouth had suddenly flooded with saliva and his blood was beginning to race. It was always the way. All it took was closing the distance.

It was Spike's turn to grin and be sarcastic and he wasted no time. "Feeling all right, mate? You look a bit wobbly." He kept his grip on Angel's jeans and drew him even closer, at the same time rolling backward just enough to take Angel's legs out from under him. His knees touched the cold floor, his feet lost their grip and then Drusilla's proud sire was kneeling.

The scent was getting to him, too, but Spike had more control over it-mostly because he loved the way it felt. He adored the takeover of his senses and the keen awareness of Angel's desire. Spike liked the freefall of this totally unique experience, but more than that he relished the surrender of it.

Licking his own lips, he shivered when he tasted Angel there. Their pheromones were already coursing through the air between them, sticking primal flavors and smells to every available surface. Angel was trying to fight it, that was clear. But he would never win that battle.

Drusilla crossed in front of the fire and spoke to them softly. "Now, boys," she said. "Let's concentrate. Angel has come to help you, Spike. Don't be a ninny."

He heard her speaking, even felt the vibration of her voice on his spine, like always. But he was completely unable to look at her. With Angel that close to him, Spike was barely able to think. Angel was so savory, so rich and the familiarity of his scent was torture. Memories of a thousand nights of roiling lust flooded his mind. Every moan, every bite, every orgasm. Spike's mouth watered so much he swallowed twice.

They were so close together, they couldn't help but move forward. Their wet lips parted and they both inhaled to breathe each other in . . . and then they connected. Soft and lingering at first, their lips reacquainted themselves, then their tongues touched and caressed each other, completing the kiss. Angel's body all but collapsed against him and Spike's fingers slipped up under that fuzzy sweater to find the silky naked skin there.

Behind his eyelids, Spike saw little flashes of memory like still photos flitting by. Angel on his back in that big bed in York; Angel with his cheek against the wall in that black stairwell; Angel with his head thrown back against the settee, thighs tense and corded with muscles as his orgasm ripped through him; Angel naked and covered in cold mud writhing under the crumbling windows of Fountains Abbey. Angel . . . Angel . . . Angel . . .

Drusilla's fingers were cold as she pressed them into his neck and drew his head back, separating their kiss with a moist, reluctant smack. She had also grabbed Angel's neck but she was holding his a might harder. He coughed and reached for her wrist, dark eyes flashing angrily.

She looked at her sire closely, cocking her head this way and that as though she'd never seen anything like him before. And then she simply released him.

"Daddy," she said as he glowered and rubbed his throat. "Only those who live here get to taste the sweeties in the cookie jar." She wagged her finger at him, then touched the pad of it to the tip of his nose. "Don't be a bad puppy."

He cleared his throat and got to his feet, using the arms of the wheelchair for support. Straightening his clothes, Angel huffed an impatient sigh. "Listen, doll. Here's the deal. If you want me to give your darling boy my precious blood, you need to leave us alone to do it. Your jealous tantrums are exhausting and I have a date tonight." Having said his piece, he waited, watching her with harsh assuredness.

Drusilla stared at him blankly for a long moment, then her beautiful face softened into a chilling smile. Looking down at Spike, she leaned forward and slid her hand between his legs in the chair. He took in a breath and held it when she tightened her grip.

"Dru?" he said tentatively. "I'm a bit fond o' my nuts, pet. What are you doin'?"

Her long elegant fingers cupped his balls through his trousers and then she nibbled his earlobe. Already madly aroused from kissing Angel, he purred from the intimate touch and turned to taste her lips.

"My darling," she said to him, her lashes brushing his cheek.

He looked in her eyes longingly. There was always so much longing with Dru.

"Do you want me to leave you alone with Angel? Now? When you're so vulnerable and he could so easily kill you?"

This thought had never occurred to him, strangely. He shook his head a little to clear it, then looked over at Angel standing in front of the fire.

"Well? Is it your intention to get me behind closed doors and turn me into a big pile of dust?"

"Nope," Angel said, smirking again. "Not that I wouldn't enjoy it."

Spike squinted suspiciously then shrugged, looking at his beautiful Drusilla again. "I'm gonna do it, ducks. You know you don't wanna watch, anyway. It always upsets you seeing us do this."

She frowned prettily and then she giggled. "It's not that," she said. "I know how much it pleases you. You go mad from it, sweet. I love to watch you enjoying yourself. It's just that it will be so bad this time. It always is when one of you is hurt. The hurt works like a spell on you . . . keeps driving you together until the healing is done." She looked at Angel with cold mistrust. "But tonight, his heart is in the wrong place all together."

Spike reached for her hand and kissed it gently. "Don't worry, baby. Just listen at the door. If you hear me start dyin', bring in the Hoover. I'll expect to be resurrected post haste." He rolled forward around the big table, heading for the bedroom. Stopping before the door, he turned back to their guest. "Are you coming?"

Angel winked at Drusilla as he strolled toward Spike and the bedroom. "Repeatedly, if I can get away with it," he muttered.

Her perfectly painted lips pursed into a tight line and her eyes blazed for an instant. Then she gave Spike a reticent smile as he preceded Angel into the room. He thought it best not to look back again, just in case she changed her mind.

The door closed with a soft snick and Spike wheeled himself to the edge of the bed. Shifting forward, he used his arms to climb up on the mattress, then he sprawled out on his side. Angel approached the bed and slowly removed his jacket, draping it over the back of Spike's abandoned wheelchair.

"I can't believe how jealous she is," Angel said. "You'd think she'd be over it by now."

"That's never gonna happen." Spike gathered the pillows at the top of the bed and stacked them so he could lean against them. The two places in his back that were splintered screamed with pain every time he moved, but he ignored them. He didn't want to give Angel too much of a visual advantage.

Leaning one knee on the bed, Angel tugged his fuzzy white sweater over his head, revealing his smooth, nicely sculpted torso. He folded the sweater in half and put it on top of his jacket, then he crawled slowly up the bed to lie beside Spike.

For a long moment, they just watched each other, eyes moving up and down the other's body, learning the new things, remembering the old.

"Where are you broken?" Angel said, his voice soft, almost sympathetic. Almost. He moved forward on the bed until their bodies touched, legs flush, hipbones connecting, half-swollen cocks awakening to each other. His fingers curved cautiously around Spike's side and down to his spine, feeling for discrepancies in the long line of bone. When his fingers found the first fracture-the one just below the ribs-Spike winced.

"Don't push on it, pillock," he groaned, hating the whining quality in his own voice. "It does hurt, you know."

"Big baby." Angel raised up on his knees and carefully straddled Spike on the bed. Leaning over, the muscles in his bare arms hardened and tensed deliciously with his shifting weight. Spike had always enjoyed this view. Angel's nicely defined chest and belly were in perfect relief in this position. Tracing a finger up over those rippled abs, Spike grinned when Angel's nipples hardened.

"Like that, don't you?" he whispered.

Angel moved in for another kiss and Spike reached for his waistband again, but that time his fingers went to work on Angel's belt. The metal buckle clinked softly as he undid it, then he slid the worn leather out of the belt loops very slowly. The kiss was so tantalizing and distracting, he almost forgot what he was doing-but not quite. Spike brought the soft leather belt up to where Angel's hands were supporting his weight on the bed. Forcing himself to break the kiss for a moment, he looked right into those dark and golden eyes.

"Do I need to bind you?"

Slightly dazed from the chemical onslaught in his blood, Angel blinked at first, then looked at his own belt in Spike's hand. "Do you really think I'm gonna kill you?"

His expression dripping with sarcasm, Spike said, "not like that would be a new thought."

"Got that right," Angel said. "But doing it now would be totally empty. Look at you-you can't even defend yourself. Killing you now would make me a-"

"A big, throbbin' wanker," Spike jibed. "Not to mention, a complete pussy."

Fighting it for a second, Angel finally let out a chuckle. "Yeah," he said. "All that."

Looking at the belt again, Spike fluttered his lashes impishly. "I'm sure we could still find a use for this."

Leaning down again, Angel nuzzled Spike's neck just below his left ear. The sensation made Spike shudder with pleasure and he closed his eyes to increase the intensity.

"You're too fucked up to play hard right now," Angel purred. "So unless you want me to spank your ass `til it bleeds, I'd just put that belt aside." He nipped Spike's tender ear lobe roughly.

Sighing, he let the belt slip out of his hand and onto the mattress beside them. His hands returned to Angel's fly where he carefully unhooked the buttons. The older vampire's skin was so satiny right below his navel . . . and warm from recently consumed blood. Spike smiled to himself, knowing that Angel had warmed his skin and worn that kitteny jumper just to make himself more desirable for the slayer. With that thought in mind, he drew Angel's plump bottom lip into his mouth and sucked it-just the way Angel liked.

"I bet your pretty demon killer doesn't kiss you like this," he said, lapping at the brunette's probing tongue. "I bet she won't even let you feel her perky little tits."

A low, feral growl vibrated the bed and Spike had to restrain himself from laughing out loud. He never could resist pushing Angel's buttons-especially when he had so obviously revealed their location.

"Stop talking about her," he hissed. "I told you."

Chuckling, Spike bit that delicious lip again, making Angel tremble with rage and craving-a lovely combination. He moaned deeply and then Spike was reminded that he couldn't move to grip Angel's hips with his legs. He couldn't instigate much bodily contact at all and the frustration made him want to scream. In an attempt to compensate, he grabbed Angel's waist with his hands and pulled his body down with fierce demanding.

*****
Part 2:

Angel's fingers slid into his hair at the back of his neck as their kissing grew more heated. Spike managed to push Angel's jeans down enough to expose his smooth buttocks and free his stiff cock. Reaching between the brunette's legs, Spike curled his fingers around those low, full balls, weighing them with a firm squeeze. Angel's pubic hair tickled his fingers as he teased and stroked the skin around his straining erection.

He could taste arousal inside the kiss-a warm, sugary flavor like fresh cake that gave way to the taste of butter. Spike sucked Angel's tongue and gnawed his lips, while his fingers explored the sensitive skin of his erection. The velvety head was slick with moisture and twitched when Spike ran his thumb over it. Again, Angel moaned and the sound of it was ragged with need.

Still nibbling that full bottom lip, Spike whispered, "I think you need sucking."

Angel sighed and kept on kissing. His body was revealing him, as it always did. Hips writhing, he pressed his cock into Spike's hand, begging for friction. Soon he would be desperate with longing.

"Why the hell do you taste so good . . ." Angel murmured angrily, as though he were thinking out loud. He'd never accepted this-never let himself. For almost 100 years every time this chemical lust threw them together, Angel was always looking for a way to defuse it.

"You know why," Spike growled against his ear. "Your blood is my blood . . . you need to heal me just as much as I need you to do it. And don't say you don't love it, either, Angelus. I know you do. Gives you the upper hand."

Angel's teeth bit at the flesh below Spike's collarbone, but he did not break the skin. He just tasted the softness of it in his mouth and licked the sweat from the surface.

"Do it," Spike panted and again, he closed his eyes. In the darkness he could almost see Angel's fangs lengthen. He felt their hot pressure against his skin and then . . . blessedly . . . he felt the puncture. Such sweet release to finally be bitten.

Mouth watering, Spike's skin begin to tingle. He groaned and tugged Angel's thick silky hair, shaking softly as he felt his blood being drawn up and up. "Yes . . . oh, God yes . . . drink . . ." he heard himself say. "Take me down . . ."

His craving grew exponentially as they moved together on the bed, Angel's hands working busily to divest Spike of his pants. In another moment, they were naked-both of them hard and panting. Angel lifted his head and his swollen lips dripped with Spike's blood. He hovered, chest heaving, and purposefully rubbed his cock-showing it off like a glistening prize.

They were both blind with hunger now, reeling from the blitz of hormones and electricity thundering through their veins. They were both prisoners of a strange magic they never intended and could never deny.

Spike's eyes were glassy with lust as he watched Angel's ministrations. Torture, it was, seeing that hot swollen member right there . . . just out of reach . . . the most delectable thing Spike had ever tasted just hanging there, waiting for him to take it. He wanted to feel that cock in his mouth so bad he was trembling. He remembered the taste . . . the savory nectar that dripped from the head of Angel's cock was totally addictive. Reaching up, he grasped Angel's wrist and stopped his hand from moving.

"Put it in my mouth," he pleaded. "I need a taste."

Never taking his eyes off Spike, Angel ran the pad of his middle finger over the wet slit of his cockhead, gathering a big drop of moisture. Next thing, that finger smeared the salty liquid over Spike's bottom lip and into his mouth, forcing its way to the back of his tongue. Closing his lips, Spike sucked in his cheeks and licked every drop of savory pre-come off that insistent finger. That tiny bit of sexual fluid was like a shot straight into his blood. He saw sparks and his skin shimmered with sweat.

Voraciously, he grabbed Angel's hips and pulled him hard forward. Again, the tall brunette was toppled off balance and his hands came down on the mattress on either side of Spike's head. Lifting his hips to move his erect cock closer, Angel spoke in a hoarse whisper.

"Watch the sharp and pointies, buddy. Dru will be vacuuming you outta the rug for days if you bite my dick."

Spike barely heard him, the chemical assault was so strong by then. If he had heard, he might have come back with some rude retort, but as it was, he was in no mood to snark. All he wanted in life at that moment was to feel Angel's cockhead press the back of his throat. That sweet elixir dripping from the hot slit was the ambrosia he needed. Well, at least it was the appetizer he needed.

On some instinctive level, he made certain his fangs were retracted and his tingling lips covered his human teeth as he guided that beautiful cock into his mouth. He ran his tongue along the engorged head, teasing the silky ridge and lapping the ultra-sensitive point where the foreskin connected and rolled back. Angel loved being licked there. It made him shiver with lust. Spike concentrated on that spot exclusively for a few seconds, waiting for Angel to moan with desperate pleasure.

"God . . ." Drusilla's sire gasped. " . . . I'll come from that . . . wait . . . don't . . ."

Grinning, Spike relaxed his throat and let Angel push his cock down deep. The feeling was amazing-quenching and painfully stimulating all at once. Tasting that cock again made Spike itch in a bottomless place-a place only Angel could scratch. He hummed and licked, tickling Angel's naked hips with his fingers to increase the sensation. Eyes closed, Spike was in his own personal heaven . . . lost in a totally primal act, reeling with carnal pleasure.

Suddenly, Angel pulled back, shifting on the bed until they were facing each other. Spike frowned at having his mouth emptied, but then Angel filled it again with his tongue. Hard kisses led to deep growls and then Angel dropped down to the wound he'd made before, covering it with his mouth again and sucking . . . sucking for all he was worth.

The rush was so sudden and intense. It hurt a little, but not really. Spike heard someone shouting and vaguely realized it was him. He squeezed Angel's powerful arms, holding on with trembling fingers as his blood was taken. He knew what would happen next-it was necessary for the ritual. Angel had to drain him almost completely and then they would trade. Waiting, fighting his instinct to throw off this albeit welcome attacker, Spike sighed as the colors drew away. Sounds, sensations, light . . . all pulling back and fading. Darkness lay beyond and silence. He could see it ahead, like dropping into a well. He tried to speak, to protest, to say enough blood had been taken, but he had no voice. He could do nothing but trust that Angel would know when to stop.

Suddenly, he felt suspended in a gray haze. His skin felt cold but it tickled deliciously . . . soft kisses on his ears . . . soft licks on his neck . . . licking, licking the wound to close it. Then, he felt his cold body being moved slightly down on the bed. Pillows put behind his head to hold it up, Angel's eyes glittering through the fog. Did he say something? Spike couldn't hear. He could only hear a quiet sound like dripping water. He felt his mouth being opened, bottom lip drawn down by strong fingers . . . and then-the first drop of Angel's hot, magic blood.

It hit his tongue and slid down his throat like a splatter of molted wax, but when he swallowed, he felt it all over. Heat, incredible heat and radiant fingers of electric shocks all through his body. Angel's wrist was above his mouth, a large gash torn into it to open the veins. The blood poured out and onto Spike's waiting tongue and then that salty, satiny skin connected with his lips. Closing his mouth over the wound, Spike began to suck as hard as he could.

Each time he swallowed, his head cleared more and more and then his vision and hearing and perception went beyond clear . . . everything seemed to crystallize and bend around him. There was so much color and so many sensations, he was almost terrified by the intensity-yet, he still drank. He heard his own throat clicking with every gulp and he felt Angel shaking on top of him. Shaking and groaning like he was being pulled apart, but Spike knew better. He was racked with pleasure . . . the most acute pleasure either of them had ever known.

Already, Spike could feel his bones healing-slowly knitting and mending. He knew he had to stop soon, Angel was crying out so loud . . . the sound indicated he was almost drained . . . almost empty. The sound also indicated he wished Spike would never stop.

The hot splashes of fluid across his belly were a sensory surprise, but it was a Pavlovian trigger for his own orgasm. In a way, he didn't even care that he was coming. The pleasure of Angel's blood in his veins far outweighed any sexual response. Angel's body, his being was Spike's addiction. His nemesis and his addiction. The enormity of his love for Dru stood entirely separate from this experience. This was truly what defined him.

At the top of his orgasm, he realized Angel was shouting for Drusilla. Suddenly letting go of the older vampire's cut wrist, Spike collapsed on the bed, staring up at Angel in a haze of confusion. They were both drenched in sweat and semen and Angel's eyes were so very black. He dropped down onto Spike's body, gasping and then his hands gripped Spike's wrists, pinning them to the bed. Fangs extended, growling deep in his throat, Angel attacked again-his teeth sinking into Spike's neck in a new place. He sucked so hard, Spike screamed.

And then Drusilla was by the bed.

For a moment, she just watched them, her lovely face registering almost no emotion. Intense curiosity seemed to be the only thing she was really feeling, as she stood there with her arms folded across her flat belly.

"Angel," she said in a crisp, commanding tone. "Stop it, now. You need to stop."

Feral and snarling, Angel did not stop. He sucked at the new wound brutally and Spike felt his body tingling again as fresh pleasure raced through him. He moaned and wriggled for more contact under his captor's body, skin sliding on skin slick with blood-creamy ejaculate. He wanted to die there, swallowed into Angel's hot mouth. He wanted to spend eternity in that unbearable swoon.

"ANGEL!" Drusilla demanded. "Look at me!"

Remarkably, Angel froze for a moment. His fangs were still driven deep into Spike's flesh, but the sucking had stopped-at least momentarily.

"Look. At. Me." Her voice was soft again, a delicate, seductive purr that made Spike's heart explode with desire to kiss her. "Aaaaangeeeellll . . ." she sang. "Look at me."

Very slowly, Angel lifted his head and turned to her. Spike could see his eyes-black and fierce, no one home in there but the animal who was his mentor. Blood dripped from those full lips, running down his chin in dark rivulets. But he looked at her, as he was told. And he kept looking at her.

"Do you hear me?" Drusilla whispered.

He licked his dripping fangs in affirmation.

"Be in my eyes, Angel . . . and come to me. Come to the edge of the bed and walk out of this room with me." She curled her fingers, luring him with repetitive, hypnotic motions. "Come to me, my angel." Stepping back once, Drusilla moved toward the door of the bedroom, then she stopped and waited.

Angel stared at her, his chest rising and falling frantically. Spike was unable to move as his wrists were still pinned down hard against the mattress. His own senses were flooded with Angel's scent, his taste, the perfect pressure of his hard body against his own. He wished Angel would start sucking again. The sucking was the bliss. Just as Spike tried to lean forward and bite Angel's neck again, Drusilla's voice cut through his trance.

"Now, Angel," she insisted, but her voice was still a soft whisper.

And then, horribly, Angel moved and started toward her.

"NO!" Spike shouted. "No . . . come back!" He tried to grab Angel's arm, but his spine wouldn't move the way he wanted. Pain shattered his reverie and he groaned in agony, dropping back on the bed. Shouting curses, he reached for the broken spots on his back and held them with his hands. Yes, they had improved, but they were far from mended.

Angel had crawled to the foot of the bed and Drusilla continued to take little steps back toward the door. She beckoned him with her long, elegant fingers, never letting go of his gaze. Cooing quietly, she sang spellbinding little songs to him until he made it to the door. Once he was there, she took his arm and led him out to the main room.

The longing crashed down on him so violent and swift, Spike actually cried from it. The pain of need made him weak and angry. "Angel!" he shouted, hearing his own voice break. Under his desperate breath, he said "come back . . . Angelus, please . . . come back . . . I need more . . ."

Then Drusilla reached into the room and shut the door.

*****