Chapter 7
Buffy’s remark confused Angel. She just implied that she wanted to have sex with them. Both of them. Then he realized that Spike was rolling his eyes, and Buffy was giggling. Oh, it was a joke. Another inside joke between his ex-girlfriend and his current lover leaving him out in the cold. It hurt, but he couldn’t let it show. After all, he still loved them both, and if he acted hurt then it would upset them.
Sighing, Angel waited for some kind of signal from them to show that he was once again included in the game. It came from Buffy. She wrapped her hand around his, squeezing it while she smiled up at him.
“Come on, Angel, show me where you live,” Buffy said.
“All right,” he replied, looking at Spike for a second before turning around to leave the blonde to follow them. He led Buffy back through the living area to the rear of the building. Overlooking the courtyard was the study, more his domain than Spike’s, but they did share it. He watched the expressions cross her face as she walked around this room as she had the main room earlier. It was one of contentment mostly, but there were traces of uncertainty as she ran her hand over the back of his chair. It was made of burgundy leather accented with brass buttons and cherry wood legs with heavy wheels that rolled easily on the wood floors.
She did smile when she took in the fireplace with the heavy couch grouping surrounding it. It was a place for relaxing, reading, and occasionally making love. She sat at one end, pulling the chenille throw from the back to put over her lap. A book fell out of the folds onto the floor. It was Spike’s journal, leather-bound with a ribbon marking his last entry. With a reverence that moved Angel, she placed it back on the cushion beside her without any comments. It was then that she stood again, the throw forgotten where she found it as she headed for the bookcase.
It was packed with books for research, plus ones for leisure reading, and some for instructional purposes. Both Spike’s and his collections filled the shelves, a mixture of poetry, novels both classic and modern. Buffy didn’t say anything as she perused the titles. The only sign of interest was when she hesitated over “La Nausea”, but she didn’t comment. The memory was written on her face though. Not one of the stellar times of their relationship.
Unable to stand her silence any longer, he asked, “Do you like it?”
His embarrassment over the question was immediate. He sounded like an overeager teenager looking for approval to soothe his ego. It was what he needed, but there was no need to show it. Spike loved him. If his Childe could fall in love with him after their history, then anyone could. He didn’t need anyone to tell him that he was all right. Did it really hurt if he lied to himself?
“Yes, I do,” Buffy said, with a slight nod to emphasize her comment. “I like this room. I can nap, and…well, someone can research.”
Spike laughed. “Never was very good with the book stuff, were you, Love?”
“She was always better at thinking on her feet,” Angel remarked.
“Ah, thanks guys,” Buffy replied, with a grin. “You make me feel so smart.”
“I don’t think we said that,” Spike retorted. He turned to look at Angel. “We didn’t, did we?”
“Well…uh,” Angel faltered, not wanting to hurt anyone’s feelings but he didn’t want to be left out of the game. When did he become so inept at flirting? Or was he always like that? The moment passed as his companions laughed. It was time to continue the tour. This time Buffy moved ahead of them, exploring on her own as she moved through the door on the far end of the room. It led to the corridors where the bedrooms were located.
A knot appeared in Angel’s stomach as he watched her walk into the first one. It had been decorated for her. Spike hadn’t agreed with his choices. Only now was he beginning to understand that criticism. Buffy wasn’t the girl he fell in love with almost a decade before. She was a woman who had lived several lifetimes in those years, and it changed the essence of who she was. He was pleasantly surprised when her face lit up. She stood in the middle of the room, taking in the delicate white furniture, the four-poster bed, the vanity and the pale roses splashed across the fabric of the comforter and chaise lounge in the corner. It was feminine.
“Whoa,” Buffy said. “This is really…beautiful.”
“I hoped you would think so,” Angel said.
“Yeah, I do,” she replied. “It’s what I wanted when I was a girl.” She covered her mouth with her hand. “You remembered?”
“Yeah, I did,” Angel said, shoving his hands in his pocket. Somehow, he felt pleased that she was happy about it.
“Ah, now isn’t this just touching,” Spike whimpered while he pretended to wipe away a tear. “You two…are just…like special.”
“Asshole,” Buffy muttered, rolling her eyes and slapping him on the arm. “It is special, and you’re just jealous.”
“Nothing to be jealous of,” Angel said, stepping closer to Spike. He may still have feelings for Buffy, but she wasn’t his future. “Ready to move on?”
Buffy only nodded, and then pointed at the door near the bed. “Closet or bathroom?”
“Bathroom,” Spike said. “We know how you birds like big bathrooms, so we took the two and made it into one.”
There was that smile on Buffy’s face again, a cross between anticipation and delight as she hurried to open the door. It had been a long time since he’d seen her happy. She was always dealing with one thing or another, or they were fighting during the few times he’d seen her over the years. Angel realized he was enjoying this, despite the occasional feeling of being an outsider.
“Did you guys have a decorator or did you do this yourself?” Buffy asked from the bathroom.
“I did, pet,” Spike commented, as they joined her. “Remember the one I ate.”
“Ah, of course,” Buffy said. “I forgot.”
Angel leaned on the counter, and Spike sat on the edge of the tub. The room was made with a woman in mind. A large tub took up one end of the room, a shower stall with a bench on the side, and shelves on one wall filled with fluffy towels and various bath accompaniments. Buffy picked up a bottle to sniff it, but put it down with a bang when she realized that it was used. A flush stained her cheeks as she looked over the other bottles and jars, some already used.
“Next room,” Buffy suggested, without asking what she really wanted to know.
Neither of them said a word. Their former guests were none of Buffy’s business, so they only nodded as they stood. Spike opened the door leading to the other bedroom sharing the bathroom. Angel wished no one else had ever used the room. How could he ever have known that she would come back into their lives? He wasn’t even sure how long she would be here, or how much damage she would do before she left. The one thing he could promise her was that no one else had ever used the bedroom he’d created for her. Some of their female visitors had wanted to use the room, or rather play in there, but he’d never let it happen. Neither had Spike. It was an unspoken agreement between them. It was her sanctuary for when she returned.
The other two guestrooms were standard. Not much changed from when they were hotel rooms. New furniture, paint and wallpaper made them presentable for when and if they had visitors. No one had come to stay with them, so the rooms were just there waiting for the day when someone would use them. Buffy and Spike stepped out into the hallway.
The only room left was the Master Suite. Saved it for last just as Buffy had requested. It was made of a block of the old hotel rooms, gutted and redone to make one large area for them. The bedroom overlooked the street with two walls of windows, and to the right were the bathroom and their private training room.
“Come on, Love,” Spike said, taking Buffy’s hand and leading her down to the double doors.
“Leading me into the lion’s den?” Buffy joked, looking back at Angel with a raised brow.
“Something like that,” Angel replied, smiling.
It was going to be all right. He just needed to remember that. The three of them had been through a lot of adversity, so they would find a way to get through this, too. He moved ahead of them, taking a hold of the handle on one side of the double doors, winked at Spike as he took the other. Together they pulled them open, leaving Buffy to walk in by herself.
Their bed was in the center of the far wall. It was massive, made to their custom ordered specifications. It was almost made of cherry wood with four posters that nearly touched the high ceiling. Wider than a normal king size mattress and long enough so Angel never felt like his feet were hanging off. The two men could sleep without ever touching, or lie curled together in the middle. Whichever they preferred.
It wasn’t the bed catching Buffy’s attention though. It was the display of their sexual toys. The various array of whips, restraints, paddles, and other things were scattered on hooks; hung in no discerning patterns on the wall between the two doors leading to the other rooms. Angel expected another blush from Buffy, but instead she laughed. She walked up to the wall, taking them in with wide eyes of curiosity instead of revulsion.
“These have got to be Spike’s,” Buffy said, pushing a pair of handcuffs so they swayed back and forth. “Did you ever figure out how to unlock them with your fangs?” She winked at the blonde before returning to her perusal of the wall.
Angel looked from one to the other as an unexpected rage threatened to choke him. He knew, and somewhere along the line accepted that Buffy and Spike had sex, but for some reason the thought of them playing bondage games was too much. Was Spike the reason Buffy was so casually hinting at ménage sex? Had Spike shared her in their past relationship? He stormed from the room before he could unleash his anger on either of them.
~~~~~~~~
The sound of Angel’s retreat made Buffy turn around. She watched him march down the hallway to his study, and then slam the door behind him. It drained her of all her flirtatious games with both of them. She wasn’t quite the femme fatale she was pretending to be. Besides, her little act had angered Angel.
She sank down on the edge of the bed, covering her face with her hands, and rocked back and forth. She was a bitch. She should have known that her attempts would only backfire.
“Stop staring at me,” she snapped, without looking up. Spike was waiting to deliver his usual snide remarks meant to only make her feel worse than she already did. “I didn’t mean to hurt him.”
“I know,” Spike said, with a sigh. She felt him sitting next to her.
“What did you say?” She asked, peeking out from between her fingers.
“I said I know, pet,” Spike remarked, with a chuckle. He peeled her hands away from her face, forcing her to look at him. Searching his eyes, she didn’t see any traces of anger, or blame in his expression. He rather looked like she felt, defeated. It made her sit up. Her hands planted on her knees as she stared at the floor trying to clear her confusion. “He’s trying to be all casual about you being here, and he’s as confused as we are.”
“I don’t think he likes me.”
“Bloody hell, Buffy,” Spike swore, waving a hand around. “He loves you, always has, he just doesn’t know this woman who talks about handcuffs like they’re party favors.”
“That’s your fault,” Buffy retorted, refusing to be the only one to blame for Angel’s misery.
“You liked it,” Spike argued, with a grin.
It was true. She did like the bondage games they played, testing their limits as to how far they could take each other. It was a long time ago, but the memory still made her warm. She peeked at Spike, and he was smiling. Then they laughed. It felt good to let go of the tension, she flopped back on the bed with her arms over her head.
“Yeah, I did,” Buffy admitted aloud for the first time. Another freeing act that made her spirit lighter. “Is Angel going to be able to handle this grown up me?” She put her hand on Spike’s back when he didn’t respond.
“Tis’ always about you, isn’t it, Buffy?”
“What? No, not always,” she responded, sitting back up. Her hand slipped around Spike’s shoulder as she leaned close to him. “Well, yeah, sure a lot of the time it is, just because I’m me, and…”
“Brat,” Spike exclaimed, ticking her and sending her into a riot of giggles. She fought back until they were wrestling around on the bed. He rolled her over on her stomach, pinning her down with his weight. At first, she struggled but then the combined scents of Spike and Angel on the bed sheets brought her back to reality with a suddenness that made her heart ache. Spike stopped the same time she did. They’d forgotten. “It’s me,” Spike said, falling back on the bed. “He’s angry that I would teach his precious Buffy lessons on bondage.”
“Well, he needs to know that you never did anything I didn’t want you to do,” Buffy said, scrambling to her feet. “I’ll go and talk to him. In the end it’s me that he’s having a problem with, not you, so let me see what I can do.”
“He’s my mate…”
“I know, and that’s all the more reason for me to talk to him,” Buffy said, cupping Spike’s face before kissing the corner of his mouth. “If it’s going to cause trouble between you two then I’m gone.”
“I don’t want you to go,” Spike said, standing. His hands held on to her waist. “It’s stupid I know but I don’t want to lose you again.”
“You won’t.”
It was a promise she would keep. Wasn’t it the reason she’d come to
Leaving Spike there, she walked to the study, opening the door without knocking. Angel was staring into the empty fireplace, his hands in his pocket and his brows furrowed. It compounded her guilt.
“Angel, I’m sorry,” Buffy said, twining her fingers together as she went to stand beside him.
“For what?” Angel scoffed. “For growing up, for moving on, for liking things I never thought you would…what are you sorry for, Buffy?”
“For hurting you. For not being the little girl that you want me to be,” she whispered, adding a shrug because she wasn’t sure if she was right.
“I don’t want you to be a little girl,” Angel said, taking her around the waist. “I’m angry that Spike was able to be with you in ways I never could, for teaching you things that I felt like a dirty old man for fantasizing about doing with you.” He brushed her hair back, and then turned her face up. “I want the woman you’ve become.”
It was a shock when he lowered his head to kiss her. A kiss that was filled with hunger and unfulfilled desire, it took away any thoughts of protesting, all she could do was hang on. He parted her lips, delving his tongue deep into her mouth. A long burning flame was slowly consuming them. Buffy whimpered, leaning back to intensify the sensation spiraling through her body. A voice inside her told her this was wrong, she shouldn’t be kissing Angel, until another hand was on her hip, a different mouth leaving kisses across her shoulder until she couldn’t remember what was right or wrong anymore. Spike was there, holding her, loving her along with Angel, and she was loving them back. How could this be wrong?
“Angel,” Buffy said, pulling back. “The curse?”
He looked deep inside her eyes, and whispered, “One of the advantages of working for an evil law firm. The curse is no more.”
Then he was kissing her again, while Spike nibbled on her neck. They both stepped closer to cradle her between their hard bodies. It was the most decadent feeling to have their erections pressed against her. She moaned when she felt Spike sliding his hand along her thigh, lifting her skirt while Angel blazed a trail down her chest. If they weren’t holding her together, she would have fallen into a molten mess on the floor.
Angel buried his face between her breasts, licking at the soft mounds, and then all three froze at the sound of a phone ringing came from her bodice.
“What the fuck?” Angel muttered, drawing back.
“Sorry,” Buffy groaned, torn between anger and relief at the interruption. She fumbled pulling the phone out, but managed to get it to her ear. “Hello.”
“Buffy, someone is following us,” Dawn’s frightened voice came through. “You’ve got to come get us.”
To be continued…
