Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/44164.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Angel:_the_Series
  Relationship:
      Spike/Angel
  Additional Tags:
      Frottage
  Stats:
      Published: 2010-01-01 Words: 2475
****** Thursdays With Angel ******
by Morgana
Summary
     Spike's parents set him up with some special tutoring for the SAT
Spike had spent the day watching the clock, and when the final bell rang, he
grabbed his backpack and headed for the door, eager to get to his car and get
home. It was Thursday, which meant college prep tutoring... which meant Angel.
His parents had hired the older boy last year to help bring his SAT scores up,
and after the test came back with better than expected results, it was decided
that Angel would continue to tutor him to make sure he was as ready as he could
be for college next year. He looked over Spike's term papers before they were
turned in, made suggestions for reading that would be helpful, and reviewed
some of the notes from his classes with him as well, and while he appreciated
the help, Thursdays weren't Spike's favorite day because of philosophical
discussions or calculus equations.
He looked forward to Thursdays because Angel was, quite simply, the most
beautiful man he'd ever seen. Whoever had coined the phrase, 'tall, dark and
handsome' must have had Angel in mind, although Spike was sure that nobody
could ever have imagined his eyes. They were gorgeous - deep and dark, and he
swore they sometimes changed color, from a lighter color that was like melted
chocolate to a polished ebony that tempted Spike to just dive in and go for a
midnight swim. And if those weren't enough, he had a face that looked like it
had been carved from granite or some other unyielding stone, all lines and
angles that both beckoned the onlooker closer and at the same time, warned them
from getting too near.
If Angel had been some random guy he'd bumped into at a club or anybody other
than who he was, Spike would've made a play for him long ago. But there was
something sweet and almost innocent about the older boy, like he was somehow
untouched by the world and the people around him. An angel indeed, but not one
of the fluffy ones on the clouds, all long hair and dresses, but a warrior
angel, ready to protect what was his and avenge any wrongdoing. Spike knew
instinctively that he never wanted the wrath he sensed deep down to spill over
at him - he only wanted his laughing angel, the one that teased him about his
punk looks and bleached hair, and occasionally even reached over to poke him
when he got a little too cheeky.
What it all came down to, really, was that he liked Angel. Spike didn't like
too many people, so he wasn't about to risk one of the few friends he had just
to get his end away. Especially when he could do that anywhere, with just about
anybody - he'd found that out quick enough after his first visit to a gay club
when he was sixteen. Sex was easily come by and just as easily let go, and he
wasn't about to lose his friendship with Angel over it. Not to mention, Angel
was about as straight as they came. So he confined his desire to fantasies, and
if he spent an extra hour or so locked in his bathroom after Angel left each
Thursdays, nobody ever had to know.
Christ, now he was hard just thinking about it! Doing his best to forget about
what happened after tutoring, Spike pulled into the driveway, grabbed his
backpack, and headed inside. If he was quick about it, there might be time for
a little tension relief before Angel arrived - another little Thursday ritual.
He hadn't seen the older boy's car outside, so when he walked into his bedroom
and found him at the desk, he stopped dead in surprise. “Angel?”
“Hey. Hope you don't mind starting a little early today,” Angel told him. “My
car's in the shop and I had to get a ride from my girlfriend, and she had to
drop me off on her way to work.”
“Uh, sure, no problem,” Spike replied, silently giving thanks to the gods of
black jeans and oversize backpacks. “Just lemme, uh -” He jerked his head
towards then bathroom, then escaped into it without giving Angel a chance to
say anything.
Once inside, he turned the faucet on, then unfastened his jeans and reached
inside. He wasn't about to risk Angel overhearing anything, so he'd just have
to wait and hope he didn't bust something during the tutoring session. He
shifted his cock, then gave it a quick squeeze and did his jeans up and stepped
back to check himself in the mirror. No obvious bulge, no visible dick
straining against material, no clear sign that screamed out that he wanted to
jump Angel's bones, so he was good. With a nod of satisfaction, Spike flushed
the toilet he was supposed to have been using, washed his hands, then went back
into his bedroom.
The next hour was spent reviewing for his econ test next week, then going over
Angel's history and philosophy notes from his classes yesterday. Spike already
knew he couldn't wait to get to college, although he couldn't understand why
Angel was bothering with philosophy when he was studying criminal law. Not like
there was a lot of philosophical debate about putting bad guys in jail, was
there? But Angel seemed interested, so Spike listened and did his best to
follow the topics instead of thinking about leaning over and nuzzling his
tutor's neck like he really wanted.
“So you see, the concepts of reality are really different, depending on who
you're reading,” Angel explained. He loved philosophy, and it showed in the way
his eyes shone when he talked about it. “For instance, there was a whole school
of thought that said that nothing but our own selves are real. Can you imagine
that?”
“Uh-huh,” Spike muttered, twirling his pencil around his fingers as he fought
to keep from reaching out to see if the spiked brown hair was softer than it
looked. Angel nudged him and the pencil clattered onto the desk, then slipped
down to the floor.
Angel shot him a guilty look. “Sorry,” he said. Spike shrugged, and leaned down
to pick up the pencil as Angel bent to do the same thing. They collided too
late to pull back, just at the right angle that their lips met, crashing
together in a surprisingly soft kiss. When Angel didn't pull back and hit him,
Spike moved a little closer, opening his mouth enough to let his tongue slide
out to brush the other boy's lips. They parted on a surprised breath, and he
slipped inside for a fraction of a second, barely long enough to register
before he retreated and pulled away to breathe.
Angel looked at him with wide, dark eyes. “Why did you -?”
“Wanted to,” Spike replied with a shrug. “Why not?”
“But I'm - I mean, I'm not -” he hesitated, looking adorably discomfited before
he blurted out, “I have a girlfriend!”
Spike cocked his head to the side. “You kiss her like that?”
“Yeah.” Angel frowned at the smirk that crossed the blond's face. “Why?”
“Nothin'.” Spike shook his head and turned back to the textbook. “So we were on
the start of solipsism, yeah?”
“No.”
“We weren't?”
“We were, but... what do you mean, 'nothing'? Why'd you ask me that?” He
crossed his arms, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation, but just as
obviously determined to find out what was going on.
Spike shrugged again. “Just that those kinda kisses... they're not exactly the
type to stir the blood, y'know? Won't keep you up at night tossin' an'
turnin'.”
Angel glowered at him. “And you'd know what kind do?”
“Yeah.”
“Fine, then - prove it. Show me.” Spike knew he was probably just goading him,
prodding him to see what he'd do, but he wasn't about to turn down an
invitation like that! The pencil clattered down onto the desk again, and Spike
reached over to slam the philosophy book closed, making sure his shoulder
brushed Angel's chest with the movement. He was probably suicidal, but he
couldn't help himself, not when Angel taunted him like that.
Spike shoved his chair back and grabbed Angel's hand, tugging him up along with
him, then pulled him away from the desk. He pushed him backwards until he
stopped against the closet door, then stepped forward, pinning him between hard
oak and Spike, and before he could forget that this was all supposed to be him
calling Angel's bluff, he put his hand up to curve around Angel's neck, pulling
him down to meet him.
This kiss was nothing like the sweet, tender exploration before. Heat sizzled
along their lips, shooting down from mouths to groin, and Spike felt Angel
harden against him. This time when his tongue slid over Angel's lips, it was
welcomed inside, and soon Angel's tongue was tangling with his, rubbing over
each other, sleek and hot, and Spike thought he heard Angel moan, but he wasn't
about to end the kiss to find out. Hands slid up his back, pulling him closer
as he let go of Angel's neck, one hand sliding over his bicep, the other
worming its way between them, skating up the broad chest until it settled just
over his heart. And when Spike's fingers feathered over his nipple, coaxing it
to a peak, this time he was sure about the sound Angel made.
“Spike,” Angel ground out, but Spike didn't give him a chance to call a halt.
He attacked his mouth with biting kisses and soft sucking, fingers plucking at
the tight bead of his nipple. Two years of wandering around the gay clubs was
brought to bear as he used everything he knew to show Angel exactly what he'd
been talking about. Sweet, gentle kisses might be all right for the bints, but
there were times a man wanted more, when he just needed to fuck and suck and -
A hard shove sent him stumbling backwards, and it was like being torn out of
heaven. Spike shot him a wounded look. “If you wanted to stop, you could've
just -” He never got to finish his sentence, the rest of it cut off by Angel's
mouth. Fingers slid into his hair, holding him still as Angel ravished his
mouth, tongue delving inside, thrusting against his own, retreating and
returning in a rhythm that made his cock throb in his jeans. A pulse of precome
escaped and this time, it was Spike who pulled away, gasping for air.
“Jesus, Angel!” But he wasn't done yet. Those massive hands slid down Spike's
back to cup his ass, and he moaned, turning his head to muffle the sound in the
other boy's neck. Angel shivered, and Spike smirked, then attacked his neck,
teeth and tongue working over gorgeous golden skin. Then they were falling,
sinking to the floor just a few feet from his bed, but he didn't dare suggest
they move, not if it would mean Angel would stop moaning and squeezing his ass.
His head spun, dizzy with need and lust, and Angel seemed to recognize his
state, because he kissed him again, pushing him back down onto the carpet.
Spike went willingly, groaning when Angel followed him down and he felt his
full weight pressing on him. There was no time to savor it though, not with the
older boy's hips already thrusting, working his hard dick along Spike's,
rubbing over him through their jeans. Somewhere along the way, Spike had lost
control and now all he could do was hold on and hope Angel didn't come to his
senses for a little while yet.
Thankfully, Angel seemed nearly as lost in sensation as he was, because the
bruising kisses didn't stop, and he drove his hips hard against Spike's. They
were both leaking now, jeans growing damp as they grew closer and closer to the
point of no return, but Spike couldn't be bothered to care about that now. Not
when Angel groaned and reached down to adjust first himself and then Spike for
better contact, before planting his hands on either side of Spike's head. “Tell
me you want it,” he whispered hoarsely, staring down into Spike's eyes.
“Fuck, yeah,” he panted, bucking up against him. His cock was aching, harder
than he could ever remember being, and he was about two strokes from coming.
Apparently Angel was in the same state, because as soon as the words were out
of Spike's mouth, the older boy thrust hard against him, driving his hips
against Spike's. Spike squirmed under him, hands grabbing hold of Angel's hips,
holding tightly as he fucked him right through their jeans.
It felt like hours, but he knew it only had to be a few minutes before he
couldn't hold back any longer. Spike grabbed Angel and pulled him down, his
shout of release muffled in his tutor's mouth as he came harder than he had in
years. Angel groaned when he realized what was happening, and started to hump
against him faster until he froze, then shuddered in a very familiar way. Spike
thrust up against him, trying to feel it as he shot, cursing the thick material
between them that kept him from sharing in his orgasm. He could feel the fresh
wetness, though, feel it soak through to mingle with his own fluids.
Angel didn't make a move to get up right away, but he didn't say anything
either. The quiet stretched out into several minutes, and Spike started to
wonder if he'd just royally fucked up by making a move on the older boy like
that. Was this the part where Angel got up and kicked his ass? Or was he trying
to figure out how to tell Spike exactly what kind of twisted pervert he thought
he was, right before he walked out and refused to have anything to do with him
ever again?
His stomach was twisting itself into tighter and tighter knots with each new
imagined scenario, and still Angel said nothing. Spike wanted to shake him and
demand that he yell, or hit him, or do something, anything that would break the
silence that felt like it was crushing him, when Angel pulled back a little and
looked down at him, mouth curving up in a half smile. “Guess you do know a
thing or two about those kinds of kisses,” he said quietly.
Relief swept over him, and Spike couldn't hold back the big grin that broke
free. “Maybe I was wrong about you not knowin' how to stir the blood, too,” he
teased. “Of course, you could always show me again...”
“Christ, you really are an incorrigible brat,” Angel laughed, but he took the
hint and kissed him anyways. Spike had a feeling that Thursday was going to
stay his favorite day for a long, long time.
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