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Title:
Shame Bad, Sex Good
Author:
Miss Murchison
Rating:
NC-17
Disclaimer:
All characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy,
etc. Only the lame plots and dialogue herein are mine.
Notes:
Eunice
kept insisting that the only
logical end to Season 5 of Angel was to have Buffy, Spike and Angel
wind up as a threesome. I brushed this off, until one morning
when it suddenly seemed to make perfect sense. There wasn't even
any alcohol consumption involved--just a really good mocha.
This is the first of three
stories, one from each character's point of view. Links to Angel and
Spike's tales can be found at the
bottom of the page.
When Buffy
woke from her troubled dreams, it took her a moment to realize the naked
body that was pressed against her back was Spike's.
The confusion was normal, she supposed, as much as anything in her
current sleeping arrangements could be said to be normal.
She knew it was Spike because she recognized every muscle in the lean
form lying against her, the pressure of the firm hand on her thigh, the
planes of the cheek that was prickling her shoulder where his soft flesh
melted into a fine line of razor stubble. So she was sure it was Spike
behind her even before her eyelids fluttered and she peeked between them
to see Angel in front of her.
Angel was awake too. He was staring at the ceiling, his hands clasped
behind his head, his profile thrown in stark relief by the dim light of
the bedside lamp, his lips twisted in a frown. Brooding, she supposed.
He usually was whenever something wasn't stimulating him to action.
Since she was awake, she could do something about providing that
stimulation. It would stop her from brooding herself. And it would be
fun. These days, Buffy was working hard to rediscover the concept of
fun.
But before she could move, fingers pinched her rear end gently. Spike
was also awake, and he wanted her to be quiet.
Suspicious, but willing to wait and see what evil plan Spike had in mind
before deciding to stop him, Buffy lay unmoving, eyes barely slit open,
and gazed at Angel's naked, strongly muscled shape. She was sleepy
enough to be content to lie still for a few minutes, and it wasn't as if
she could find anything to complain about in the view.
In fact, the view improved as Spike rose stealthily and climbed over her
to crouch above Angel. Startled, Angel grasped Spike by the shoulders,
and turned to look at Buffy. "What are you doing, you idiot?"
"Just saying hello," purred Spike, settling his body astride Angel's and
making the other man gasp as he ground their hips together. "Why are you
looking at the Slayer? She's asleep. I'm the one paying you attention.
Least you can do is return the favor."
There was a pause. Buffy expected Angel to shove Spike away, but instead
he pulled the other man towards him and began kissing him passionately.
Two ivory-skinned bodies rocked together, strongly muscled arms clasping
each other so hard the veins stood out.
Buffy pressed her lips together tightly and fought to stay still.
"We should turn off the light," she heard Angel whisper after a couple
of minutes of panting and groping.
"Why bother?" asked Spike, bending his head to take one of Angel's
nipples between his teeth, distracting him.
Buffy knew why Spike wanted the light on. He was fully aware she was
awake, and wanted her to see what happened next. He knew how exciting
she would find it, and, as always, he was ready to cater to her desires,
even the ones that she - and Angel - found shameful. Especially those.
Angel, on the other hand, had to be coaxed and goaded into their nightly
revels, and once their lovemaking was over he never mentioned what the
three of them had done together. And he pretended he had agreed to this
arrangement only because he knew she would never again give Spike up and
because he couldn't force himself to concede her entirely to his rival.
This in spite of the fact that Buffy had several times returned to the
apartment to find the sheets on the bed disarranged, Spike smirking, and
Angel looking both mortified and satisfied.
Buffy had spent too
long denying the wildness in her own nature not to sympathize with
Angel. He might be willing to admit what he had been, but he
hadn't yet managed to fully acknowledge what Buffy had become.
Spike had, so far, contented himself with needling references to his and
Angel's erotic past and present, but hadn't really forced the subject
out into the open. Buffy didn't know if he was finally learning more
self-control, or if staying in her good graces was so important to him
that this was one time he was capable of refraining from blunt speaking.
So, the threesome's lovemaking earlier that night had been all about
Buffy, the two men concentrating entirely on her pleasure. That had been
- extremely pleasant, of course. But what she was watching now was
making her blood pound as wildly as if she were fighting a demon, and
she felt her gut seize with overwhelming desire for the two of them. She
forced herself to lie quietly, like a hunter stalking prey, even as
every nerve in her body screamed in anticipation.
Spike's head bent over the other man's cock. Angel whimpered, "No-"
"You want it," said Spike, lifting his head long enough to retort. "You
always wanted it. Liked doing it to me, too. Never used to pretend, back
then."
"Wasn't me-" gasped Angel.
Spike had no patience with this. "Tastes like you. Feels like you." His
mouth descended on Angel again.
Buffy sympathized with Angel's need for denial, even as she realized he
was in denial. He liked to think of himself and Angelus as separate
entities in order to distance himself from the worst of his crimes. It
was a mental refuge Spike never allowed himself, and he never missed an
opportunity to refuse Angel that source of comfort. But it was hard for
her to be too angry with Spike, especially as he seemed eager to offer
other sources of comfort. And she knew just how good he could be at
comforting.
Now, Spike had positioned his body to give Buffy a good show. He had
taken Angel deep into his mouth, and was sucking with apparent
enthusiasm, one hand cupping the other man's ass to pull him close, as
if to keep him from escaping, although any pretense of reluctance on
Angel's part had disappeared. Buffy knew what that firm cock felt and
tasted like against her lips and tongue, and what she couldn't see, she
could vividly imagine. She wondered if Spike was as good at this as he
was at going down on her. Almost certainly, judging by the way Angel's
mouth moved in silent appreciation, his face contorting with passion and
an effort at self-control. Buffy bit her own lip to keep from crying
out, but she couldn't help reaching down and touching herself, rubbing
her clit frantically as she watched those two beautiful bodies thrashing
together on the bed beside her.
Angel's eye caught her movement and his head turned. His gaze met her
now wide-open eyes. Buffy realized he'd forgotten her presence. Now, she
knew he was trying to find within himself the shock and embarrassment he
believed he should be feeling, but it was impossible. He was coming
violently under Spike's ministrations, his whole body shaking as his
hands gripped Spike's head, fingers writhing in platinum curls, a
desperate, involuntary shout emerging from his lips.
Spike sat up, wiping his mouth and gasping with laughter as he watched
Angel pant and shudder. Angel grimaced and closed his eyes as if to deny
what had just happened, unwilling to face Buffy's voyeuristic gaze.
Spike turned to Buffy, and she licked her lips in anticipation, her eyes
drawn now to his erect cock. He bent his head again, towards her this
time. She felt the touch of his tongue and hand against her, and spread
her legs wide. But although his skillful fingers continued to massage
her clit, after a moment his mouth moved upwards, lips skimming along
her belly, careful teeth nipping at breasts that were already
delightfully sore from Angel's attentions to them earlier in the
evening. Then his mouth was pressed against hers, and she was tasting
Angel and herself on his tongue, as his cock penetrated her deeply and
surely on his first thrust.
She moaned, bringing her legs up and wrapping them tightly around his
waist, her arms trying to pull his sleek, smooth flesh even closer to
hers. But as if
in desperate contradiction to her ecstatic reaction, she
heard Angel say bitterly, "Not much in the way of foreplay in your
technique, Spike. I suppose you're right-you're not one for the
pre-show, at least with the girls."
Spike raised his head and sniggered lasciviously, his eyes wildly
alight. "We were the pre-show, sweet cheeks. You should feel how hot and
wet we made her. No, maybe not. Glad I saved this part for myself." He
thrust so hard Buffy cried out. "A clever boy, I am."
Angel shook his head, but Spike went on. "Face it, Angel. She likes
watching boys play with each other, our Slayer. Don't you, love?"
"Yes," gasped Buffy. "Damn you, Spike." She turned her head, reaching
out an arm to her other lover, her hand fumbling through his dark hair
to pull his head towards her. "But it's all right, Angel." She laughed,
her body arching toward Spike's. "Shame bad. Sex good. Pretty boys
kissing-even better." She shifted her grasp on Angel so that he found
himself meeting Spike's lips instead of hers. She saw his instinctive,
enthusiastic reaction, and as Spike moved within her, the men kissed
violently, their mouths open, Angel propping himself on one elbow to
lean into the awkward embrace.
Buffy came, her shuddering reaction setting off Spike's orgasm. The
three of them collapsed on the mattress, Spike sliding down her body so
that his head rested on her shoulder. When she was done panting breath
back into her lungs, Buffy turned her head to look at Angel, but his
face was buried in the pillow beside her. She reached out and gently
stroked his hair, coaxing her fingers under his chin until he turned to
her and she was able to press her mouth to his. Slowly, one of his hands
came up to grasp hers, and their fingers interlocked.
It was a long, romantic, gentle kiss, like many Buffy and Angel had
shared years ago, when she was a virginal teen, before Spike and Angelus
reentered his life. But his grip on her hand now was too tight, as if he
were clutching a lifeline, and she knew he was trying desperately to
recapture their first months together, wanting to deny the wild impulses
they felt as vampire and Slayer, wanting to be a normal man, wanting to
see her as the innocent she had once been. She knew what he wanted
because she felt the lure of that fantasy too. But if they were to have
any future together, he would have to consign that naive young Buffy to
memory and accept the woman who lay next to him now.
And he would have to accept someone else. She turned her head slightly
and saw Spike watching from under hooded eyelids. Buffy felt the hard
length of his body against hers, and remembered the long, horrible
months when she thought he had died forever in the destruction of the
hellmouth. That loss had made her realize just how much she had taken
him for granted. She knew there was no way to ensure that he wouldn't be
taken from her in some future battle, but she was not about to lose him
again because of something as ridiculous as a desire for conventionality
and normality. She wasn't about to lose either of her lovers for that.
She was nestled now between the two men, and was wondering what to do or
say next--there was no time to write a letter to Miss Manners about this
situation--when Spike's fingers slid along her arm, reaching up to cover
both her hand and Angel's, which were still tightly clasped against her
breast. Angel flinched, then relaxed his grip, opening the palm to
welcome Spike's touch.
Buffy held her breath for a few moments, but neither man said anything.
They lay there quietly until she realized they had both fallen asleep,
apparently as content with her, with each other, and with the situation
as they were capable of being.
She snuggled down into the mattress, her slight form shielded from
loneliness and despair by the two men she loved. For the rest of that
night at least, her dreams were pleasant ones.
Angel's point of
view:
What Not to Wear (short version)
Wear that and I'm Calling the Whole Thing off (longer but still silly)
Spike's point of
view:
It was
a Dark and Stormy Fight
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