Rating: Adult.
Characters: Spike/Angel
Prompt: #56 Cyber
Warnings: m/m sex, jury duty
Summary: Human AU. Spike's first Jury duty stint isn't quite as boring as he thought it would be. But only because Angel staves off the boredom.
Disclaimer: It may come as a surprise but I'm not Joss Whedon or Mutant Enemy and therefore I do not own Spike or any of his many shagging and verbal sparring partners. I weep for the injustice of it all and play with these characters in the fiction I write because this is pretty much all the fun I have.
Beta'd by ![[info]](http://eyezrthewindows.tripod.com/userinfogif.gif){kind=small}
kitty_poker1
Civic Duty
When Spike floated over the pond to the US for better opportunities, porn and food -- the bad beer was a miss but he'd rather get away from his eccentric family -- he hadn't expected that five years after receiving citizenship he'd be stuck in a courtroom on Jury duty.
These sorts of things only happened on film, right? What normal person got Jury duty and actually went to the bloody thing?
Apparently, he did.
He snorted and shifted, waiting for the bint who'd walked by earlier to call him and the enormous group of people milling around looking bored and nervous into the closed courtroom to weed out the undesirables. He really hoped he was one of them. He'd rather be anywhere else than here.
Like his warm, comfy bed, for one. Or having a root canal being another.
He wiped a hand over his face tiredly, clutching his official summons in one hand and a dog-eared book in the other.
Angel was a git. He couldn't just let Spike sleep in, oh no, he had to slam open his door -- he was getting a sodding lock for his bedroom today -- and literally drag him out of bed, humming a cheery tune that made Spike's ears try to run off his temples.
Angel was a tone-deaf idiot but he was a good roommate. Mostly.
He was also very much a morning person, which Spike wasn't, and they clashed about that constantly.
Spike wanted to sleep pretty well all day, as he worked nights, and Angel liked to get up at the crack of dawn to annoy him.
Sometimes, Spike wondered how they'd even ended up where they were: roommates for the last three years.
It helped that Angel paid half the bills but Spike couldn't prevent himself from being rubbed the wrong way sometimes.
Sometimes it was fun, though. Like the times they fucked.
That was some of the good rubbing.
Yeah, they'd had sex a few times, mostly when they were drunk or feeling especially lonely, but they never made a big deal out of it because that was how they operated.
It was working well for them so far. Why change a good thing?
So, on the day in question -- goddamn Jury selection bullshit -- Angel had woken him up and forced him to go shower at an ungodly hour and shoved some coffee and toast at him, grinning all the time like there was something funny.
There wasn't anything funny about Spike getting Jury duty!
Especially when Angel had never gotten the call despite all of his years of eligibility.
Spike had gotten four summons (which he'd promptly ripped up and tossed in the trash, pretending he'd never received them; mail system was pretty fucked up, after all, and how could they prove he didn't get it, anyway?) before they implemented a new no tolerance policy. You were fined or thrown in jail if you didn't show up in court on your appointed day.
He still didn't know how they'd prove he'd gotten the damned thing or not.
The system was fucked up. And so was Spike's luck. He must've done something horrible in a previous life. Fucking Karma.
He should never have shown Angel and laughingly told him he was tossing it out like he had the previous notices. Angel took this sort of thing way too damned seriously.
He glanced at his watch and then glared at it as the minutes crept by in what seemed like slow motion. It was only three minutes later than the last time he'd looked.
He sighed and tried to slump into a comfortable position but the solid, wooden bench seat didn't cooperate too much so he had to settle for sitting upright instead of his usual loose-limbed, comfortable sprawl.
You'd think the justice system would spring for comfy seats considering how long they kept people in court. Or maybe that was why they didn't. They didn't want people there any longer than they had to be.
His ass grew numb after only a few minutes of sitting. He wagered Angel's wouldn't; he had a great deal more padding back there than Spike did.
He snickered softly to himself.
When the chubby, peroxide blonde -- had she borrowed a page from Spike's hair-do handbook? At least the colour bit because Spike obviously had better style -- clip-clopped around the corner, loudly announcing she wanted part of the paper in his hand, he gladly ripped along the perforated line and handed it to her when prompted.
He got quite the shock when the woman winked at him and smiled flirtatiously. She couldn't have been less than sixty or so, which wouldn't have bothered him had she been the least bit attractive. And she wasn't. At all.
She was like a cougar on the prowl.
He tried to smile back because he didn't want to piss off someone who could probably have him deported on a whim but didn't quite succeed. It didn't seem to matter, though, because the woman went on collecting bits of paper and then told them to go inside.
Over two-hundred people herded into the courtroom with Spike. He grimaced and attempted to keep his distance but that was easier thought than done. They pushed at him and he scurried as quickly as possible to one of the back benches and eyed the wooden monstrosity with distaste.
It looked more uncomfortable than the bench outside.
He sighed and took a seat, wishing he'd thought to bring a cushion or something to pad his bony ass. This was going to be torture.
Twenty minutes until start time and he was bored out of his effing mind. He read a little of his book but got distracted and had to shut it because after skimming three pages he couldn't have told anyone what had happened. His watch wasn't any help because it told him only seven minutes had passed. The giant clock face above the exit mocked him by being three minutes slower than his own watch.
He slumped and shifted, jiggled one leg, then the other; his fingers drummed almost soundlessly on his corduroy-clad thighs and god did he hate corduroy -- it was one of the few dressier pairs of pants he owned; the others were old khakis he wasn't sure he could even wear anymore. Angel had told him to dress with respect and so had that damnable summons but he looked around and failed to see more than a handful, including himself, wearing anything but jeans.
He scowled, carefully set down his book, marked with his really important paper, and crossed his arms.
Yeah, another reason to be irritated with that wanker.
For a few moments he stewed, the line of his spine starting to ache, and then perked up when he realised that if he had to be here and be annoyed, he could text Angel on his cell phone and annoy the bastard, too.
No reason on earth Spike shouldn't give a little appreciation for all Angel had done for him lately.
He dug out his cell phone and put it on silent mode, then began texting Angel repeatedly because he knew the other man wouldn't get off his ass to answer his hails unless Spike did it enough to annoy and piss him off. Nothing short of a nuclear attack usually got him out of his damned studio.
Not only did Angel get no Jury duty crap, he worked at home while Spike had to go out and work in a smoky, loud bar and serve up drinks. Not that he minded -- he got free drinks and tips that could buy lots of porn and snacks, phone numbers and interested people galore -- it was just the principle of the thing.
On his sixth 'TALK 2 ME U STUPID IRISH TWAT!!' he finally got a response and grinned smugly to himself.
WTF DO U WANT? BUSY
BORED. ENTERTAIN ME
SIGH. Y ME?
Spike had to bite back a snicker.
GIT
INSULTS WONT GET U NE WHERE
Sure they would. It would get Spike fun and alleviate his boredom. Would also take his mind off his increasingly painful backside.
He shifted again.
ASS HURTS
*SNICKER* CHANGED POLICIES THERE? LAST I CHECKED SODOMY WASNT LEGAL. PROSITUTION EITHER.
HA HA A*HOLE
URS. NOT MINE.
AGAIN HA HA
WHAT DO U WANT SPIKE?
TOLD U. BORED. THIS F*ING SUCKS. N ITS UR FAULT IM HERE! COULDA LET ME SLEEP. BASTARD
ITS UR CIVIC DUTY 2 B THERE. BESIDES U COULD GET FINED N ARRESTED 4 NOT GOING
SOD THAT. UR GOVT CAN LICK MY ASS. WANT 2 GO HOME N GO 2 BED! LIKE ALL NORMAL PPL WHO DONT GIVE A RATS BOLLOCK A/B THIS SHIT.
LIKE *UR* NORMAL. Then, *LAYS N UR BED N SLEEPS WHILE UR THERE*
H8 U
*BATS EYELASHES* U LUV ME
O FUCK OFF
BET U WISH U COULD
Spike shifted, only this time it was for another reason entirely. He was getting hard and it was all Angel's fault.
The bastard was making him think about sex! At a time like this!
U BASTARD
WHAT?
U MADE ME HARD!
If he'd been a bolder man, and also not afraid of being thrown in the hoosegow, he'd have whipped out his cock and flogged it right here crowd be damned. But he wanted to remain in this country and also didn't want 'indecent exposure' and 'lewd public acts' on his permanent record like that PeeWee Herman bloke from years back. People tended not to forget charges like those.
Though, he reckoned his charge could be much worse considering where he was.
LMAO. I DIDNT DO NE THING! UR ALWAYS HARD NE WAY. HORNY BASTARD
He considered that, then shrugged to himself and nodded slightly.
TRUE. AM VIRILE N POTENT. DONT TAKE MUCH 2 GET ME UP N RUNNING
*EYEROLL*
TRUE N U KNOW IT. PILLOCK
WHATEVER
Spike rolled his eyes and grinned.
WHAT R U WEARING SUGAR BUNS?
O.o HUH?
Spike snickered and quickly stifled it when a middle-aged woman wearing thick coke bottle glasses and a turtle-neck despite the heat turned around and stared at him.
He smiled sweetly until his face threatened to crack under pressure and she returned to her forward position. He went back to his texting.
FIXING BOREDOM. TALK 2 ME!
U WANT ME 2 TALK DIRTY 2 U ON UR PHONE? N JURY DUTY?
DONT CARE WHAT U DO! DO SOMETHING!
SPIKE UR AN IDIOT
ANGEL!
UGH. FINE. IF ITLL KEEP U OUT OF TROUBLE
Nothing would do that but it would pique his interest and make the day not suck so hard.
He so loved manipulating Angel. He was good at it and Angel was so easy.
MANIPULATIVE PRICK
Spike bit his lip to keep his laughter in check and sighed when the jury selection finally started. It was just getting good, too.
Damned Karma. He'd always hated the bitch.
HOLD ON. SUM GITS TALKING
1ST TALK N NOW DONT? CANT HAVE IT BOTH WAYS
SHUT IT!
DICK
GOT A BIG 1 YEAH
U WISH
Spike quit responding to Angel's texts and tried to listen to the fat bloke who waddled to the front and began speaking about how their taxes were being spent and what the courts did and blah fucking blah.
He quit listening when the ponce went on about shit he didn't care about and mostly didn't affect him.
This is what people did at Jury duty? Every fucking time? Christ, no wonder no one ever wanted to go!
K. DO IT NOW
DONT WANT 2 NE MORE
U WILL OR EXPECT MISSING BRUSHES N PAINT
THATS EXTORTION...OR BLACKMAIL. 1 OF THOSE. EITHER WAY ITS UNDERHANDED
SO?
*SIGH* LITTLE DICK
NOTHIN LITTLE A/B ME. SPECIALLY MY DICK. N U KNOW IT
Spike's lips peeled back in a satisfied grin. The woman up front began yammering about a judge and then said judge came in to talk about some more shit Spike didn't care about.
CLOTHES? he finally prompted, keying in quickly and keeping half his attention on what was going on up front.
NONE
Spike's eyes widened as he pictured that in his head, vivid and almost too real, then narrowed.
LYING?
WHO ME? *INNOCENT*
ANGEL!
NOT LYING THIS TIME. HONEST
Spike's heart sped up and he shifted to relieve the sudden pressure inside his hated corduroy pants. It was so damn hot and getting hotter by the moment.
He hoped no one noticed his hard-on but even if they did there wasn't a lot he could do about it.
He was going to look into some new dress pants if he ever got out of here alive and unsoiled. At least that way he'd stay cooler. Look cooler, as well.
GO ON
ON UR BED
NO FAIR!
SUPPOSED 2 B SEXY SPIKE. NAKED ON UR BED. RUBBING ALL OVER
He considered that and figured Angel was actually being honest, for once. The image of naked Angel lying on his bed rubbing his naked body all over his sheets sent an electric thrill through him.
GOD I WANT U RIGHT NOW
IF U WERE HERE ID LET U FUCK ME
Spike gasped softly.
SHIT
*G*
CHEEKY BASTARD!
WHO ME?
Spike could almost see the innocent expression on Angel's handsome face...and the devil's glint in his eyes as he stroked a big hand down his supple body.
UR A TEASE. THATS MEAN
IF U WERE HERE UD KNOW IM NOT TEASING
!!!!!!
HORNY?
GOD YES! NEED OUT OF HERE NOW!
*LICKS LIPS*
WANT 2 B THERE LICKING THEM 4 U. AMONG OTHER BITS
ID LIKE THAT. ID LIKE U 2 TOUCH ME 2
Spike bit back a groan and punched letters frantically; he was starting to get cramps in his thumbs but he didn't really care.
At least it was taking his mind off the throbbing in his pants. A little.
SO HARD. COULD SLIDE N2 U W/O NE PROB AT ALL
*GROAN*
ANGEL?
A minute, then two passed and Spike got increasingly agitated the longer he waited.
ANGEL!
TOUCHING MYSELF. GOT LUBE. FINGERS N ME NOW
Spike started breathing hard. When was that damned break they'd promised coming? When the break came he soon would be, too.
3 FINGERS. LEGS UP N SPREAD. PLAYING W/ MY BALLS
Spike's hands trembled, eyes enraptured on the tiny screen and sexually charged block letters.
UR KILLING ME. CANT WAIT TILL THE BREAK. GOING 2 HAVE WANK N LOO!
*LAUGH* PUBLIC TOILETS R DIRTY
NOT LIKE IM GONNA RUB MY DICK ON THE F*ING TOILET DUMBASS! DONT CARE AT THIS POINT NE WAY THOUGH. SO F*ING HARD!
CAN IMAGINE. AM JUST AS HARD
DOUBT THAT
Spike looked down at his visibly throbbing cock. Corduroy had never looked so good.
THINK WE SHOULD QUIT B4 I EMBARRASS MYSELF
COCKTEASE
AT LEAST U CAN WANK NOW! I HAVE 2 SIT HERE!
LMFAO. *WANKS*
FUCK OFF
I WILL
H8 U!
NO U DONT
Spike sighed.
OK FINE I DONT. BUT UR SO DAMN IRRITATING
U LIKE ME LIKE THAT
TURNING PHONE OFF NOW
*EYEROLL* BABY
SWEET TALK WONT CHANGE MY MIND
SMARTASS
RATHER BE A SMARTASS THAN A DUMB 1 LIKE U. :P
Spike turned off his phone with an eyeroll of his own, closed it and slipped it into his front pocket carefully. His pants strained over his erection and he breathed in and out slowly, trying to control himself.
He looked around to ensure that no one was paying him any undue attention and was pleasantly surprised when no one was. He'd been sure he was making lots of noise, panting or fidgeting or the phone buttons sounding like thudding drumbeats.
He could pull off subtle. Angel didn't know what he was talking about. No big surprise, there.
He attempted to read his book for the next twenty minutes but his mind kept springing back to the text conversation he'd had with Angel. His cock was so hard and he was sure if he didn't get out of here soon he'd have an embarrassing wet spot in front, if not from actual spunk then from the precum he could swear he felt dribbling into his underwear.
He crossed his legs and placed his hands in his lap.
He people watched for lack of anything better to do and discovered a moderately good looking bloke scratching his groin and moving stuff around in there.
Surprisingly, that made him even harder and he nearly doubled over.
If he did the adjust and scratch, though, he'd cum all over himself like a teenager. The thought was highly appealing but very unwanted.
Shoving himself into the corner of the bench, as far away from the other person next to him as he could get, he tapped his thigh impatiently and watched the seconds creep by at an inhumanly slow pace.
Finally, the woman who'd flirted with him before he'd gone in announced their break and explained they only had fifteen minutes and to have the other bit of paper ready in hand to give to the people handing out payment when they left the room.
Spike practically ran from the courtroom with his book in hand, snatched the offered ten dollar bill as quickly as possible and shoved it into his pocket as he fled down the hall to a more secluded area. By the time he was done with that he had only ten minutes of his break left. He had to find an abandoned bathroom and he had to find it now!
As he was clipping along at a nice pace on the other side of the building, a hand shot out, grabbed him by his froofy collared, button-up shirt (the one Angel had said brought out the colour of his eyes, the pouf) and shut the door behind them with a quiet click. The door was locked soon after and Spike was left in a dim office with his hard-on and whoever it was who'd grabbed him.
He dropped his book. "What--"
"Shut up, Spike, and get your pants down. We don't have much time."
Spike's eyebrows shot up as he was yanked over to an office chair and shoved down into it. "Angel?"
When the hell'd he get here and how did he do it so fast and how did he know where Spike was going to be?
Not that he really cared right now. His balls were throbbing and he was in desperate need of an orgasm and Angel was going to give it to him.
All he could really think was: yay! Or maybe his dick was thinking that.
"How much time do we have till your break's over?" Angel asked impatiently, digging around in his pocket for something.
Spike pressed the button to light up the face of his watch and counted. "'Bout nine minutes."
"Then you know we don't have time to talk. The only thing we do have time for, barely, is me sucking your dick."
"Good point," Spike breathed, sliding down and undoing his pants without another word. He slipped them down only enough to pull his cock from his black briefs and then watched with wide, dilated eyes as Angel ripped open a condom and started to roll it over his erection.
Angel either didn't want a mess or wasn't in the mood to swallow. Not that he cared what Angel did as long as he sucked him down his throat.
He watched deft hands slide up and down the shaft and he moaned softly, parting his thighs.
"This'll have to be fast," Angel murmured as he knelt between Spike's spread legs and unceremoniously sucked Spike down to the root.
Even through the condom it was hot and tight. Heaven.
Spike grabbed Angel's shoulders, muscles straining as he struggled not to thrust up immediately. "Don't think that's going to be a problem," he rasped, trying not to climax immediately, leg kicking out and hitting the desk.
It might have to be a fast suck but he wasn't going to cum prematurely...even if he was really damned worked up. It was in the guy code, in his DNA, to last at least a moderate amount of time.
Angel began to bob his head slowly and then increasingly faster as the seconds passed. His big hands held Spike down and Spike enjoyed the feel of Angel's fingers massaging the balls of his hips searing holes into his flesh.
Angel shrugged off his hands when his grip got too tight and then Spike had nowhere to put them because the damn chair didn't have armrests. So, he threw his hands up and grabbed the headrest, clenching his fingers tight into the leather as he undulated up into Angel's hot mouth. The chair squeaked a little.
He hadn't gotten many blowjobs from Angel but they were always a treat because the other man seemed to really know and enjoy what he was doing.
He frowned a little, rolling his hips up as best he could as he was held down.
Why the hell didn't Angel blow him more often, anyway? Seemed to enjoy it enough...
"Why the hell don't you blow me more often? That's the face of a man who enjoys sucking cock down his throat. You also do it rather well...like you've had lots of practice."
Angel pulled off and quirked an eyebrow. Spike stared fixedly at the swollen, wet lips that had been wrapped around him and then inhaled sharply as Angel's tongue flicked out.
"Would you like to hold a conversation or have me finish sucking you off? Can't have both, Spike. Just let me give you head so you can blow the last few brain cells you have with pleasure instead of trying to make a decision and wasting time we don't have."
Spike scowled. "Nonce."
Angel smiled brightly and bowed his head, returning to his task.
Spike didn't need an answer right now, anyway. He'd get one later, after a good bout of torture.
Tying Angel down naked to one of their beds and denying him release until he gave in seemed about right.
It was fast and hard, Angel sucking him in quickly and almost effortlessly. The chair squeaked softly and Spike's feet scrambled to keep them from moving but finally gave up when Angel's enthusiastic head bobs caused the chair to roll back from the desk and hit the wall.
Spike's eyes shut and he gasped as he gave in to the urge to thrust upwards. His thighs burned and his back ached, his knees took the brunt of his weight along with his neck and head but it felt too damn good to stop now. His biceps protested as his grip tightened on the chair.
He ground up into Angel's mouth and Angel murmured something around him; the vibrations nearly sent him over the edge. He was close, so damn close and he had only a few more minutes and he needed to cum and...
His head went back as he finally climaxed into Angel's throat with an ecstatic whimper he'd deny happened later. His eyes were wide as he spent himself, gazing unfocused up at the ceiling, body tingling and shuddering all over.
When it ended, he collapsed into the chair and stared blankly into space while Angel got rid of the condom and politely put his softening cock away.
"Well. That was...something."
Angel rolled his eyes. "You have such a way with words. You, the former poet."
"Sod off, you tit. Thought we agreed never to talk about that again? The brain took off for parts unknown when you sucked it out my dick. Can't expect me to put words together in any sort of eloquent manner after something like that. Anyway..." Spike looked at his watch and then scrambled out of the seat, pushing Angel out of his way, "...I have two minutes to get back! Shit. Gotta go, thanks for the head. Catch you later, Angel."
He only paused when Angel called him back. "Spike."
"What? I don't have time for this."
"Your book," Angel said, pointing at the floor where his abandoned book had fallen when he'd been yanked into the room earlier.
"Oh. Right. Ta." He scooped up the book, saluted Angel and his massive erection and grinned.
He barely remembered to see that the coast was clear before he was skidding out of the office and down the hall back toward the courtroom that had begun refilling. He was only a minute late when he got there and sighed with relief as he sank onto one of the benches closer to the door.
A few stragglers milled in after he did and he watched with interest as Flirty Old Creepy Bint read off names that weren't his and then people started getting up and leaving the room.
He frowned and then his expression smoothed over when he realised he hadn't been picked for a jury.
"Sweet," he murmured, sharing a smile with the man beside him, who looked just as relieved as he was.
As he exited the courtroom he switched his phone back on and stepped out of the way of the throng hurrying out around him.
Immediately, he was notified that he had several text messages.
With a grin, he noted they were all from Angel.
He called them up.
SPIKE?
...SPIKE?
SPIKE U ASSHOLE
OH GO 2 HELL
NIX THAT. GOING 2 JERK OFF N UR BED B4 I CUM OVER THERE. GOING 2 DO NAUGHTY THINGS 2 U IN 1 OF THOSE ABANDONED OFFICES DURING UR BREAK. BETTER B PREPARED. *EG*
Spike's eyes widened. He hadn't known Angel had made his intentions known. If he'd just left this phone on and checked the damned messages he could've been prepared.
Then again...
GOING 2 WRAP MY LIPS AROUND UR DICK N SUCK TILL U CANT REMEMBER UR NAME
...he'd probably have shot in his pants and made a mess that everyone could see. The old bird who had grinned salaciously at him would've probably creamed her panties if she'd been witness to that.
He grinned and snapped his phone shut, then headed out to his car.
When he saw the piece of paper stuck beneath his windscreen wiper he almost thought it was a damned parking ticket and began to get appropriately pissed off but it couldn't be because he wasn't parked in a tow-away zone. Then he realised by the poufy handwriting that it was from Angel.
You didn't check the rest of your fucking messages, did you? Dumbass.
Spike snickered, shoved the paper into his pocket and got in his car. He whipped open his phone again and scrolled down through the list to the latest message Angel had sent.
GET UR ASS HOME. HAVE PLANS 4 IT
Spike arched an eyebrow, then texted back.
THOUGHT U WERE GONNA LET ME FUCK *U*...
A quick response was forthcoming.
NOT LITERALLY DIPSHIT. PLANS. PLURAL. LOTS OF F*ING. GET HERE ALREADY. JUST B/C U GOT OFF DOESNT MEAN U GOTTA BE GREEDY. I NEED 2 GET OFF B4 I F*ING DIE.
Spike chuckled, put on his seatbelt and started the car and keyed in one final message.
DONT LETS GET OVEREXCITED. HOLD BACK SUM OF THAT 4 WHEN I GET THERE. WANT 2 DO LOTS OF NASTY THINGS THAT INVOLVE BOTH OUR ASSES
Snapping the phone shut, he put the car in gear and hurried back to the apartment as fast as he could.
When he finally got there, he parked beside Angel's over-sized Batmobile, hurried up the flights of stairs and stopped just outside their door to post one last message.
U NAKED? BETTER B
JUST GET N HERE A*HOLE
Spike's lips twitched, and so did his dick.
YEAH. WANNA GET N UR A*HOLE
ONLY U COULD TALK 2 F*ING MUCH N TXT MESSAGES
SO?
CUM ON!
WHAT WILL U GIVE ME?
SPIKE!
Spike laughed, put his phone away and started to reach for the handle but the door opened before he could even touch it. Angel was on the other side, wearing an angry expression and nothing else. And he still had that enormous hard-on. Looked like he was in pain.
"Miss me?" Spike quipped, moistening his lips.
Angel narrowed his eyes and yanked Spike inside by his shirt front, locked the door behind them and literally carried Spike into the nearest bedroom, which happened to be Angel's.
It wasn't Angel who was tied down. Not to start with, anyway. But Spike didn't really mind.
Here Endeth the Story
