Anna S. (eliade) wrote,
Anna S.
eliade

purr

There were no two ways about it. Angel hated to cuddle. He wanted nothing wrapped around his body when he was sleeping, weighing him down, pinning him when he might need to reach for a weapon. Darla had always understood that; she was the same way. They'd been compatible, each recognizing the other's testy snapping point and knowing when to retreat. Separate beds--separate rooms, even, when they could afford it.

Spike, though. Spike tangled and twisted around him like a half-shucked shirt, draped his messy bedhead on Angel's chest, nudged up into the crook of his arm, nosed against him everywhere like a dog. Worst was when he shoved up behind Angel with a leg between his thighs, until Angel woke and stared at the curtains in the dim room, blinking as he adjusted and identified the feel of Spike's erection poking him. It was fucking annoying.

He never suffered that for long. If he woke to Spike's sleepy puppy mash against his backside, he didn't hesitate to jerk an elbow back into available ribs. Spike would grunt and wake up, sigh and roll over. Away. And Angel would stare at the motionless curtains some more and usually fall back asleep.

The warm jigsaw of bodies was okay right after sex, and Angel wouldn't have hurried the afterglow. But that was the time when Spike himself pulled away, stretching and reaching for his cigarettes, bouncing off from the bed, limber and sated as a bobcat after a feed. Then he'd stand naked on the balcony and annoy Angel from a distance. Once he leaped up onto the balcony rail, stretched out his arms and yelled, "Top o' the world, mate!" It was good that they had no neighbors.

"Mmmph," Spike said into the back of Angel's neck one night. Angel's eyes snapped open as he became aware of the cool length of another vampire's body against his own, a hungry prick prodding him. And then Spike gave a low vibrato growl of a laugh and slurred, "Yeah, 's it, petal."

Impatient and pissed, Angel geared up to shove Spike off, then a shift brought a knot of silky, slick arousal dragging upward along his ass. He went very still as Spike kept moving and moaning. When fingers brushed Angel's belly he twined them in his own and guided them lower.

"God," Spike said and with a sudden twitch of synchronicity Angel felt him wake up. He was as still as Angel for a moment then drew in a deep breath. "Sorry," he said, starting to pull away.

Angel kept hold of him, pinning him with thighs and hands. "Don't stop," he said. It was surprisingly easy to speak the words. In the quiet of his own dark room, he set all the rules. He could do whatever he damn well pleased. Cuddle. Sure. Why not. He could cuddle an inch or two if he had to. And Spike had better start getting used to that.

"Yes, sir," Spike murmured.
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