for tabaqui's pity party.
Angel drank the whiskey even though it wasn't what he wanted. It wasn't what he needed. He felt the shoulder of the man next to him sag against him. He could smell his breath, taste his desperation and Angel opened his mouth. Inhaled through his lips and counted the beats of the heart of the boy that clutched his beer. Salty tears in the air.
“He's fine. Spike took him.”
back to Wolfram and Hart, to the clinic, to the doctors
And Angel was left with this manchild. Crying in his beer, wounded and bleeding and smelling so much like food. Like dinner. Like pure lust.
“You're a big, really, big ... attractive ... man. You know that?”
Dean sagged closer against Angel's shoulder and Angel set his drink down. He unwound Dean's fingers from the bottle and pulled him out of the bar.
“I think we should wait for them somewhere else, what do you say?”
The bar had seemed a natural choice. It was close to the alley Spike and Angel had found the two hunters in, it was convenient and it was quiet.
Angel half dragged, half carried Dean out and down the street.
Ten blocks and they were in the lobby of the law firm. Twenty steps and they were in the elevator. Two hand lengths apart and they were kissing. Only the cotton and polyester weave of their clothes separated them after that.
The elevator took them to Angel's penthouse, to his bedroom. By that point, Angel had pulled Dean's shirt over his head and Angel's suit jacket, his starched dress shirt joined Dean's on the floor.
They slammed wall to wall, rolled against door and desk and into the big bed. Boots toed off, hitting the floor with dull thuds. Jeans unzipped, pulled down and the quiet, shocked gasp of skin on skin. Thighs against cocks.
It was sharp. Real. Fast. Hot. Dean was drunk and Angel was fucking starving. He couldn't stop touching. Couldn't stop kissing. Couldn't stop dragging his teeth over Dean's neck. Dull and impotent and he growled because he wanted So. Much. More.
Dean was drunk. On whiskey and worry. He bared his neck without hesitation. He opened his mouth and whispered yes .. yes .. Angel knew that he didn't know what he was saying. He knew that Dean didn't realize what he was. Angel knew that this was not his.
Long fingers wrapped around the hard, pulsing flesh of cocks. They moaned into each other's mouths and rolled on the bed. Spreading thighs, thrusting hips and hands that bruised. Lover's kisses that drew blood and hurt, oh fuck, it hurt ... it hurt ...
and it felt so fucking good.
“Thought you were babysitting him in the bar, 'Gelus.”
Angel was barely able to see past the taste of blood on his tongue and the feel of a hot, hard cock in his ass. He met Spike's eyes, smiled. Sharp teeth, ridged brow and golden eyes.
“We got bored.”