Rating: M for Mature language and m/m sex
Also warning for violence.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters
or products named in this story
Paring: S/X Soon. S/A This chapter.
Spike is a Homicide detective trying
to stop a serial killer before he strikes
again. Xander is a psychic who offers
to help him.
HAPPY BIRTHDAYS TO WOMAN OF (yesterday)
AND YANAGI WA. LOVE YA BOTH.
Thanks to the talented Petxnd for the banner and preread.
Spike laid back, with his arms stretched high over his head and
eyes closed, he sank heavily into the soft mattress. The warm
crumpled sheets had been shoved aside long ago and his naked
cooling body was covered only at the ankles and feet.
He knew any minute now his body temperature would reach
the uncomfortable level and he would be forced to move,
locate errant blankets and cover himself. But right now it was just
more effort than he could muster.
The dark room was quiet, the only sounds seeping through
into his relaxed brain were the drifting melodies of the stereo
that had been left on in the living room and the soft breathing of the
man who lay beside him.
He really hadn't intended to stay over, but after the third back
bending, knee to nose, tooth rattling orgasm, finding his pants and
actually balancing on both feet just seemed like more of a chore
than he could manage.
He knew the owner of the crumpled bed wouldn't care. Hell, he
wouldn't even know till morning. Angel had the innate ability to slip
in to a dead sleep within seconds of the final squirt. In fact there had
been more than one time Spike had been left to his own devices to
extricate Angel's cock from his leaking ass while Angel snored loudly.
Spike smiled. All that was just fine with him. It's not like there was any
great romance brewing here. His sexual encounters with Angel O'Connor
were more a matter of convenience and mental health than life long commitment.
Both men knew as investigators in the homicide department of the Stark County
Sheriffs Department they could not afford to be caught cruising.
Especially since Vice was zeroing in on the few gay bars down on
River street and busting men right and left.
Spike could still remember the day they had, at about the same time,
caught the other staring just a moment too long in the shower.
An invitation to the coffee shop next door and an honest conversation
had brought them to the agreement and arrangement they now both
No strings, no excuses or promises, just the knowledge that until the
right man or a better situation came along, they were not doomed to
spend their evenings with the Frank finger family.
An added bonus was the benefit of being able to bounce ideas and
case particulars off someone who understood the frustrations of the
job. Cops, gay or straight, were a very closed community. Outsiders
were just that.
It was nearly impossible for someone not in the business to understand
the mental stress and need for secrecy involved in this type of work.
It resulted, statistically, in high rates of divorce, alcoholism, and
If a cop was fortunate enough to find someone he could relate to,
share ideas and concerns with, it made all the difference in the world.
It could very well be his salvation.
Which was, in fact, the very reason Spike had come over
this evening. The latest case he was working was driving him crazy and he
really needed another perspective to help him sort through the evidence.
Another ear to listen and a brain to think things through and maybe find the one
small thing that Spike was overlooking. The break that could turn this
Tonight, however just didn't seem to be the night for problem solving.
After a few beers and some general conversation, the only
clues either seemed able to interpret were tucked in the other's
The case of the hard and horny cocks was solved successfully.
Spike's body rippled with a shudder and he knew he couldn't ignore
the goose bumps any longer. Lowering his arms, he felt the burn in his
shoulders and the instant tingle of sharp pins and needles as the
circulation rushed back into his arms.
With a groan at the wonderful wet ache in his ass, Spike rolled onto his
side and, reaching over the edge of the bed, pulled a cover off the floor
and tossed it over himself. He thought briefly about Angel then disregarded
him. He knew if he let the bigger man get even a corner of the
blanket he would take it all.
Spike glanced around the room. Even in the dark he could see the now
very familiar outline of the dresser, the television, the night stand.
He knew without looking that there would be a basket in the closet
full of dirty clothes. He knew the top of the dresser would contain a
wallet, change, a badge, a gun, and a spare tube of lube.
Frowning, Spike didn't like that he was becoming so comfortable here.
He didn't like the familiarity he felt when he walked in the front door.
He knew with absolute certainty that Angel was not the man for him,
yet here he was. Stuck in a rut. For the millionth time, Spike resolved
to get out more. Try to meet someone, discreetly, safely. There had to be
a better way than the bar scene.
Curling up on his side with the warmth of the blanket tucked under his
chin, Spike fluffed his pillow and promised himself he would think about
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP
Spike threw the top half of his body over the side of the bed and
searched frantically for his pants and the pager that was always present
in the front pocket.
"That yours or mine?"
Angel rolled over, yawned and waited for Spike to find which of them was
going to be forced out of the warmth of the bed and into the night, praying it
wasn't going to be him.
The sound of the "beep" grew louder signaling that it had been located
and was now just inches from Spike's face as he strained to read it in the
dim light of the dark room.
"Son of a fuckin' bitch! They found another one. I gotta go."
Angel cracked one eye open and watched as Spike threw his legs over the
side of the bed. He snatched the blanket away from Spike's side of the
bed and covered himself up before rolling back over.
"Sorry, Babe. I'd get up too, but my shift starts in about 6 hours and I
really need my sleep. See ya later at the station house. Maybe we can
Spike looked down with disgust.
Spike sorted through the tangled mess of fabric on the floor and took
what he assumed to be his. Shirt, pants, socks, there was no way he
was going to put on those underwear. Especially with the dried, stiff
precum stuck on the front.
He would just have to go camo.
Ducking into the bathroom for a quick shower, he wanted to make
sure all traces of the nights activities were removed. Undetectable.
If the message on the pager was correct, the victim wasn't going anywhere.
Washing quickly, Spike swiped his soapy cloth over his sore, still stretched
hole and moaned at the wonderful burn. His cock twitched and he knew
if he had more time.........
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP
"God Damn it! I'm fuckin' on my way. Give a bloke a sec to get
Spike hustled to rinse off and jump out. He grabbed a towel off the rack
and dried with one hand as he checked his pager with the other. It was a
repeat of the earlier message, but this one was from the Chief Inspector.
Fishing into his other pocket, he located his cell and returned the call.
"Yeah, it's me. Yeah, I'm on my way. Well fuck. Got me out of a
dead sleep, didn't you? I know.... I know. I said I'm on my way.
Yes, sir, I do understand the seriousness of this situation. Yeah,
give me 10 minutes.'
Spike snapped the phone shut and returned both items to his pockets
as he pulled the pants up his still damp legs.
He tugged on his shirt and ran his fingers through his wet curly hair.
Grabbing and strapping on his shoulder holster, Spike checked
his 38 detective special and slammed it in its holder.
Not giving Angel a second glance, Spike was through the bedroom, past the
living room, and out the front door into the night.