Fandom: Angel (tv)
Summary/Teaser: Sometimes you've gotta make your own Christmas presents.
Warnings: explicit sex between adult males
Spoilers: early S5 Angel
Notes: Written for btvs_santa 2004 for highlander_ii who requested a Spike-centric (no Spuffy) pretty xmas w/o snow. Inspired by kantayra's Knox/Spike request on buffyverse1000.
Word Count: 943
Standard Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and co. own the characters, I'm just playing with them. I do, however, own this story, so don't steal it. Archive it anywhere; just ask first.
Feedback is always appreciated. Make me blush with praise or rip apart the story with criticism, or both.
"Can you believe Angel agreed to having a company Christmas party?" Fred asked.
"Oh nevermind that," Spike replied, "can you believe some of Harmony's decorating ideas?"
"Well," Fred said reluctantly, "pink isn't exactly a Christmas color, per se."
"I'll say." Spike’s laugh rather resembled a growl. "I'm a bit surprised she didn't manage to find some way to include unicorns."
"It's a long story. Don't ask."
"Okay." Fred bit back a smile.
"So where's our fearless leader?"
"Angel? Probably hiding. I think Harmony managed to make him promise to come."
"Smart move. Though I'll say this for the girl: she makes damn good punch."
"I'm pretty sure I heard her ordering rum to go in the punch. How much of that have you had?"
Spike didn't answer, already on his way back to the table.
"She's quite a woman, isn't she?" Knox said behind him as he ladled out more punch.
"Who, Harm? She makes a damn fine rum punch, I'll tell you that."
"No, Fred. Isn't she just amazing?"
"Yeah, she's quite a lady. Gave up being corporeal for her, y'know. Not that it mattered in the end, but I didn't know that at the time. Gotta give a bloke points for intent."
"I'd give up corporeality for her if I thought it would do any good. It won't of course, it's not what She needs me for."
Knox shook his head. "Never mind."
Spike cocked his head and squinted at Knox. "You got a brother? You look real familiar."
"Yeah, I have a brother. Well, did anyhow. He was killed late last year. Sunnydale's a dangerous place, I hear, but he wanted to stay and study psychology there."
"Guess he got himself a right lesson in the psychology of death, eh?"
Knox looked uncomfortable.
"Oh come on now. Like you've never wondered, working in that lab of yours all the time, what it feels like to die? You make things for Wolfram and Hart, help them kill things. And I bet you wouldn't mind cutting up a bloke and finding out what killed him. But you don't actually know what it feels like to die. To feel your life draining out of you."
Spike by this time was right up against Knox, his room temperature breath on his neck right below his ear.
"You sound like you're planning on killing me," Knox said, hurriedly stepping away.
"Got you hot, though, didn't I?"
Knox shifted nervously from one foot to another.
Knox’s eyes widened at hearing his brother’s nickname.
"Y' like that?” Spike asked. "Y' like when I call you that?"
"No, please, don't." Knox was backing away further.
Spike shrugged. "Suit yourself. I don't really have to call you anything. Back in the day, I might have called you dinner, but tonight I could just call you dessert." And in a single movement he was right in front of Knox, clothes touching. Knox was breathing hard, but he stood his ground.
"I've half a mind to take you right here and now, you know."
Knox opened his mouth to speak, and Spike grabbed his lower lip, biting it ever so slightly. "Don't tempt me."
"There's an office just down the hall," Knox said weakly. "No one'll be there, 'cause of the party."
"Smart boy. Maybe I will keep you alive after all."
Knox gulped, and Spike grinned. "Joke, kid. Joke."
They entered the office, and Spike shut the door behind them. "Good choice, Knox."
The room was in fact not an office but rather a conference room, complete with large, shiny, empty, wooden desk.
Standing face-to-face, Spike backed Knox up against the table. He shrugged his own duster off onto a chair and then began to unbutton Knox's shirt with one hand, his other hand firmly on the back of Knox's neck, his fingers inching their way into Knox's curls. He was kissing Knox lightly now, and once he had the shirt unbuttoned, he began to move his mouth down Knox’s chin and then his neck. He grazed his neck with his teeth, felt Knox groan beneath him. He moved down to the torso and bit down, just a shallow cut. He drank the blood and felt himself harden. He had perfected getting out of his leather pants in mere seconds, and Knox barely had time to miss the contact of skin on skin before Spike's mouth was back on his. Knox tasted his own blood in Spike's mouth and kissed him hungrily. Spike kissed him back, pushing him down onto the conference table as he undid his trousers. He carefully pierced Knox’s tongue with one incisor, letting the boy taste more of his own blood.
Knox's trousers were at his ankles now, and he kicked them all the way off.
They were hard against each other, and Spike's mouth on his muffled Knox's cries as Spike thrust in hard.
Knox hadn't expected it to hurt so much, and yet he had ejaculated as soon as Spike had entered him. He was moaning beneath the kisses, but there was also something that felt so good about it. Spike continued his movements until he too was satisfied. He laid on top of Knox for a few minutes, still kissing him absent-mindedly, and then he got up. Knox sat up on the conference table, his head spinning, and watched Spike get dressed.
"You've got blood on your shirt," Knox said, "from where you cut me."
Spike looked down. "Huh. So I do." He pulled it off and tossed it to Knox. "Keep it as a souvenir." He shrugged his duster back onto his shoulders, and then he was gone.