They're on the bed, backs to the wall; they didn't even notice Spike was there. That was how he wanted it. They came here every other night, every night one of them could get away, and Spike followed because he had bugger all else to do, and it had been too long since he'd seen the muscles on Angel's back move with each thrust.

One, two, three: Angel always was a classicist. He still treated women as if everything were a tumble in the barn. Spike knew Darla had taught him better. Harder, harder, he mockingly mouthed from his narrow perch inside the wall, swigging Jim Beam and angling his hips in time. Nina wasn't a talker, which was disappointing. Angel wasn't either, which made the whole thing mostly visual. Angel, leaning precariously over the wolf-girl with her legs around his waist.

He came first, and Spike admired the line of his throat against the night sky; Nina did too, and ran her fingers down it before coming herself, and that would have been a prettier sight if it weren't obscured by Angel leaning over to kiss her face. Worse than a soft-focus porn, Spike thought grimly. My kingdom for a remote.

Still, it was better than his apartment with only the PlayStation and his hand awaiting him. Better than popcorn and thoughts of Sunnydale. Better than—too many things.

He braced his hands against the narrow passageway to push himself upwards. He was more than willing to miss the post-coital pillow talk with obligatory cuddle now that the good bits had passed. The bottle he'd held in his lap began to tumble to the floor, and he caught it just before it made a sound that would endanger his chances of keeping the free-sex channel open for business.

He waited warily and had finally figured it was okay to move when Angel's head whipped to where he was secreted behind the magic mirror wall. It was visible through one side only, likely some Wolfram and Hart contraption to further firm/client relations. Spike froze, and it felt like Angel was looking straight at him, but he *couldn't* because it was an *opaque wall.* Spike sighed inwardly.

"Did you hear something?" wolf-girl asked.

"No," Angel said, stringing out the word as if he wasn't completely comfortable saying it.

Nina's hand snaked up from the sheets and pushed against Angel's chin, turning his attention back to her. "Then what's your hurry?"

Spike fought the effort to roll his eyes, but he just couldn't stop himself. He snuck out before he was tempted to stay and watch more lame sex. It would figure that Angel was as vanilla as Angelus was…not.

---

Angel watched Spike from the corner of his eye. Spike was spinning around in a chair, idly watching the ceiling. It at least looked as if he was bored, but Angel knew something was going on in that head of his. He remembered the glint in Spike's eye all too well.

"Well, that's it then, off to the world-saving I go," Spike said promptly, hauling himself out of the chair and leaving Angel's office in a flair of black leather.

Angel waited a minute, a very long minute, before following him.

It required a lot of effort for Angel not to lay into him when he took one of the company cars and drove back to his apartment. He managed, though not without a little tire-kicking as stress relief.

The building reminded Angel sharply of Wes's first place when he settled in Los Angeles—simple, a little on the shabby side. It suited Spike more than it had Wesley, and Angel took the back stairs to Spike's apartment. A little balcony-jumping and he was on the fire escape outside Spike's building, with a perfect view into Spike's living room. Finally Angel could see what he was up to.

Which was of course the moment Spike took off his pants.

Angel was so struck by the sight he didn't move from his crouch on the landing, only stayed and watched Spike unceremoniously grab his cock in a firm grip Angel remembered all too well.

"Yeah, that's it," Spike said to himself with a smirk, and Angel remembered that too. "Been thinking about this all day, ever since I saw them." He punctuated each word with a wicked twist, leaving Angel uncomfortable. He should walk away, he really should. Any minute now.

Spike sat on the couch and propped his foot on one of the armrests, rucking up his thin t-shirt to pull at his nipples. He threw his head back, obviously enjoying what he was doing to himself. Angel was just about to move when his phone vibrated.

Angel looked at the caller id: Nina. Damn. They were setting up plans for the night. Shifting to make himself more comfortable, Angel thumbed on the phone and whispered, "Hello," somehow managing to shift his eyes back to the scene through Spike's window.

"Hi," Nina said in a sultry voice.

Angel smiled. "How's it going?"

"Good," she said.

"Fucking yes!" Spike shouted as he jacked himself harder.

"What was that?" Nina asked, and Angel had to remind himself that he was leaving, right now.

"Uh, nothing," he said, his hand twitching where it rested against his thigh.

"Okay," Nina said, just as Spike's rousing chorus of "fuck, fuck, fuck" hit the air. Angel winced.

"Plans for tonight?" he asked, looking anywhere but the window.

"I made reservations at that place I like," Nina said.

"The one with the mirrors?" he said, even as his eyes were drawn back to Spike, who was nearly launching himself off the couch.

"Oops. Scratch that," Nina said with disappointment.

"Maybe the Italian thing?" Angel said, his head tilting as he followed Spike's movement down to the floor. He didn't remember Spike being this…excited by himself.

"The one with the cannoli?" Nina said brightly. "You like the cannoli. We'll do the cannoli."

"Okay. I'll," cough, "pick you up at eight."

"See you then," Nina said, the sultry note slipping back into her voice.

"Bye," Angel said, his voice strangled, as he thumbed the phone off. Spike came with one of many shouts, his come decorating the couch. Angel would have to remember not to sit there, ever again. As Spike picked himself up off the floor, Angel slunk off to the stairs, very carefully not palming his cock. He missed Spike's evil-looking smile out the window.

---

Nina wasn't expecting to find her sometime-boyfriend being fucked by his annoying friend. But then, such was life. It wasn't the first time she'd been burned—hell, it wasn't the first time she'd been burned this way. There were downsides to living in Los Angeles.

Spike was very into it, she noted from her view at the door. His wiry thigh muscles stood out against his skin every time he moved forward. She couldn't see Angel's face, but he was leaning against Spike and breathing harshly. Nina was somewhat impressed that Spike could take all of Angel's weight. She, of anybody, knew he was a hefty guy.

It was tempting to say something, to storm in there and cause a scene worthy of her betrayed girlfriend-self, but since the whole werewolf business she'd become far more circumspect in matters concerning her life. Like when her boyfriend liked to take it up the ass from another vampire. At least he'd known Spike for long enough, she thought.

When she walked in their line of sight, they froze. At least, they mostly froze; Spike's couldn't seem to keep his hips from jerking. Angel's deer-meets-headlights expression was almost comical, and she sat down in a nearby chair, waving them on.

"Oh, don't let me keep you," she said. "I'm enjoying the show."

Spike's mischievous grin overrode Angel's defensive splutter, and he forced Angel down to the bed and began fucking him in earnest, until Angel's words were drowned out by his own groans.

Nina was pretty sure Angel could have thrown off Spike if he'd really wanted to, but if she'd known Angel liked it up the ass, she could have covered this. She'd done it once, in a different light, for one of her boyfriends, who had actually been great about the flower-bringing part and not so great about the sleeping-with-her-friends part. Besides, Nina somehow doubted this was the first time he'd been watched. He was two hundred and fifty years old, easy, and being evil probably covered a range of freaky sex.

When Spike had spent himself, with Angel not long after, Nina propped her feet on the bed. Spike really was pretty attractive, and she'd had worse in her bed. She looked at them together, and, replaying the scene she'd just witnessed, said, "Angel, I think we may need to have a talk."