bmblbee (bmblbee) wrote in bloodclaim,

Night Terrors

TITLE: Night Terrors
WARNING: m/m sexual activity. Adult language. Story is generally
not worksafe.
SUMMARY: 10 Years after the fall of Sunnydale, Xander has
distanced himself from his past life until a demon forces him to look
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing including the characters and products
named in this story. I do, however own an unused treadmill. If you
want to sue for that, help yourself.

Thanks to the wonderful Petxnd for the excellent banner.

Giles had a set routine at the end of each day. It was the exact
oppositite of the routine he executed at the start.
He would clear his desk. Putting each item in either the out box,
the file cabinet, or if, God forbid, it was an incomplete case, his
top desk drawer.

He would straighten the alignment of the desk calendar and make sure
the pens in the pencil case were positioned with the care of a floral
arangement at a wedding.

Everything was then locked and secured. Although the Council building
was filled with high tech security systems, Giles erred on the side of
caution. The cleaning crew had always looked a bit suspicious
to him.

He would disconnect his cell phone from the charger and then
checked to make sure it worked properly. Even at home, Rupert Giles
was on duty. Head of the Watcher's Council was not a position with
set hours.

He would organize his briefcase with documents and notes that he
would spread out at home and work on for the next day. But not in
bed. Never in bed. Bed was the one place where Giles was just a man.

The only thing Giles worked on in bed was Andrew.
Quiet, efficient, nearly invisible around the office, in bed, Andrew
became almost a super hero. He became.... Andy Pandy.

And like his name, Andy Pandy was Rupert Giles cuddle toy. His
release from the tension of the day. Andy could be twisted and turned.
He could be fluffed and fucked, spanked and sucked. He was the
Monica Lewinski of the Watchers Council.
And Andrew was happy to oblige.

Although neither spoke much of their feelings, both men knew they
were in love and loved and that knowledge was sometimes the only
thing that made life worth living.

"Excuse me, Mr. Giles, if you are leaving, could I get a ride with
you, Sir?"
Giles looked up to see Andrew standing innocently in the office
doorway. Although they assumed they were nearly alone in the building,
neither took the chance. There were probably a dozen different agencies
that could have wiretaps planted.

"Of course Andrew. Car still in the shop?"
Giles picked up his case and took a last look around. He flipped off the
light switch and pulled the office door shut as they walked away.
Rupert Giles cock twitched in his suit pants as his hand brushed Andrew's.

Angel paced restlessly. He knew he should be glad Spike was gone but
for some odd reason, he wasn't. Walking to the window, Angel looked
up and wondered if the full moon was the cause of his discomfort, his
itch. He eased his hand down in the loose waist band of his trousers
and felt his half hard erection.

He knew he had some lotion in his desk drawer. Maybe a quick wank
would make him feel better. Hurrying back to his desk chair Angel
settled in and quickly undid his zipper, tugging himself free.

"Ahhh" The cool air on his damp cock always felt so good. He smiled
down affectionatly at the smiley face looking back at him.
Reaching in the drawer, he pulled out the bottle and snapped the top
open with his thumb. He lifted it to his nose and sniffed.

Like Pavlov's dog's, he immediately salivated. The smell was Spike
and sex. It flooded his senses with memories of the times he had used
this lotion to shove his cock deep into Spike's snug hole.

Angel dribbled some lotion on the swollen head. He leaned back in his
chair and spread his legs. With his fingertip he smoothed the lotion in
small circles around the slit. Immediately the flush of 'need-to-fuck'
rushed through his body. He closed his eyes and moaned.

As the lotion started to run down the thick shaft, Angel wrapped his fist
around himself. He used his thumb to outline the bulging vein on the
underside and he gave himself a quick squeeze.

Angel frowned. He knew he could just start stroking and within minutes
achieve an orgasm, but he wanted more. He wondered what Spike
was doing, where he was, if he was jerking off too.

With his hand still lightly and slowly sliding up and down, Angel picked
up his phone and hit speed dial.

Spike had just finished his first beer and ordered the second. Although not
buzzed yet, he was already starting to relax and get into the feel of the club.
The tables were all full and the back of the room was standing room only.
He had been approached several times to dance, but wanted some down
time first.

The lights over the raised stage had been dimmed and he knew the first dancer
would be coming out soon so Spike picked up his cold beer and turned to
find himself a place near the action. He hadn't gone two steps when he felt the
vibration in his pants pocket.

"Well, fuck." He fished out the phone and stepped to the side.
"Yeah? Hello? Who the fuck is this?"

The harsh, accented voice was just what he needed. Angel let out a breath.
"Um, Spike? It's Angel. You, ah, you know anything yet?"

"Angel? You sound funny. Must be the background noise here."
Spike held his hand over his other ear to hear better.
"No, no I ain't located the whelp yet."
Spike wasn't sure why the lie.
"It's going to be a hard nut to crack, but I'm workin' on it."

Angel rocked forward, his head dropped as his hand stroked harder.
He stared at himself and wished, not for the first time, that he was
nimble enough or his cock long enough that he could wrap his own
lips around himself and suck.

He scooted forward on his chair so his nuts weren't squished and he
clentched the muscles around his hole. His whole body craved the
tight ass of the blond.

"Is it Spike? Is it a hard nut? Tell me what you're going to do."
"Huh? Oh, I'm at a gay club right now. I'm going to ask around
and see what the chit chat is about the missin' blokes. I'll try to
find Harris tomorrow."

The full color picture that exploded in Angel's brain was one of Spike,
surrounded by dozens of handsome humans, all dancing, grinding,
humping and groping on a crowded dance floor.
Angel's hand picked up speed and the aching, tingly burn pooled
in his balls.
One by one the thinking brain cells started to shut down.

"Who are you with, Spike? What are you doing? Is someone touching you?"


"Are you pullin' yer fuckin' prick? Goddamn you Angel, you don't want me
when I'm there then you jerk off to me when I'm gone. Well, fuck you!"
Spike snapped the phone shut and stuffed it back in his pants.

Angels' hand, and the phone in it, dropped to his desk. Spike screaming
profanities at him was just what he needed. With three more quick
tugs, he arched forward as the pleasure rushed through him. It filled
his sac and shot out the head of his throbbing cock. Every inch of his
body felt like it was sharing in the wrenching orgasm that pumped blob
after blob of stringy release over his hand and onto the floor.

Instinctively, Angels's hand slowed but never stopped. Each shot of
cum was carefully stroked and squeezed out, the sensitive head never
touched. When the aftershocks had finally eased and the muscles in
his body relaxed, Angel lifted his gooey fingers to his mouth and licked.
He felt much better now.

"Boyfriend a bitch?"
Spike jumped and turned to face the thin, baby faced man standing behind
He chuckled.
"Yeah, sometimes he can be a right prat."

The stranger took Spike by the hand and started tugging him toward
the front of the club.

"Wow, cold hands, Cutie. Warm heart?"
Spike shook his head in confusion.

His new friend just laughed.
"Never mind. Come on, I'm Bobby, we have a table up front and the
dancers are about to start. You can sit with us."

Spike patted the company credit card in his pocket and went happily.
  • Post a new comment


    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic