sorry about your guitar

Untitled RPS
Pairing: Nicholas Brendon/James Marsters
Rating: um, hard R? Not quite NC-17
Summary: Remember the 'Normal Again' dailies? Yeah, well, same day of shooting just... later.
Disclaimer: This never really happened (at least I don't think it did) I'm a wrong individual. My apologies.
Beta: kyrieane

There’s crash as the trailer door is flung open and James wants to laugh at the look on his visitor’s face as it rebounds and shuts itself, but even with just a glimpse he knows he’s never seen Nick so angry. He gets up and opens the door, staring at the man who is now scuffing his Birkenstock into the asphalt of the lot with embarrassment.

“Sorry about the door.”

“I think it’ll live, come in. You want something to drink? Soda, water, beer?”

“What kind of soda you got?”

“Diet Coke.”

“Gross, why?”

“Joss doesn’t allow everyone to let themselves go,” he says with a teasing grin.

For a moment Nick looks like he feels sorry for James. “Hey, did you just call me fat?” He holds his hand to his chest in mock indignation.

“Never.” And James’ answer is far too serious for Nick to deal with. So he doesn’t.

“I’ll go with ‘no’ on the beer, too. Tressa’s – she’s starting to flip out about me drinking. She even said the dreaded words.”

James grabs two plastic bottles from the mini-fridge and tosses one to Nicky. “What did she say, ‘I want a divorce’?” James snorts the question out, knowing that Tressa is not about leave the guy she’d fought so hard for any time soon.

“Nope. ‘Alcoholics Anonymous,’” he says as he twists the top off the water and takes a long drink. He feels James flop down next to him on the tiny couch, knee to knee, shoulder to shoulder.

“That’s why I kicked my ball and chain to the curb.”

“No it’s not and no you didn’t.”

“Well, it sounds better than the truth.”

“I think Aly knows,” Nick says without preamble.

“Aly’s known, she’s just smart enough to be discreet.”

“What do you mean she’s known?” Nick is up and staring down at James, too tall, too wide and James feels so tiny.

“I mean that Dave and Alexis are close and Alexis and Aly are really close, so…”

“So, Dave told Alexis about the time he walked in on us?”

“Yes, he did.”

“But that was years ago!”

“Yes, it was.”

“And now you go and kiss me, in front of her, in front of everybody, knowing this?”

“Yes, I did.”

Nick turned, hurled the half empty bottle across the trailer and gripped his hair, pulling slightly and enjoying the small stings in his scalp, before dropping his arms to his sides. “S-stop it! Stop talking like that and s-stop being calm. Oh, God, A-aly used her ‘aww, isn’t that the s-sweetest thing’ voice. She th-thinks it’s c-cute.”

James hates that he’s made Nicky stutter.

Taking the other man’s hand in his own, he feels how much larger it is. Remembers how those hands felt running along his body, gripping his shoulders, tangling in his hair. Knows how much he misses it. “Shhh, it’s okay, trust me, Aly won’t tell. She promised.”

“You guys talked about it?” His voice strained with the effort he’s using to keep it steady and he’s focused on watching James trace shapes in his open palm.

“You went to go shoot that scene with Sarah and Aly came to see me. About, um…” James trailed off, suddenly shy and unsure. “about us kissing.”

“It wasn’t an ‘us’. You kissed me.”

“You liked it. You missed it.” James let go of the hand he was holding and hooked his fingers into Nick’s jeans, tickling the soft skin over Nicky’s hipbones. “You miss me.”

“I’m married.” His words are a protesting non-answer, but all the while his hips are pushing toward James’ face.

“I don’t care,” James said as he pulled him closer, his cheek pillowed against the worn blue fabric. He slowly ran his fingers up and down the tenting front, before leaning back to look up. Seeing Nicky staring down at him with his mouth open and his tongue obsessively licking his lips he made a decision. “I’ll never own you, she’ll always have you, you left me for her. But right now, you’re mine.”

James reaches out, pops the buttons of Nick’s jeans and tugs them down, pulling his boxers down with them. He’s aware that if he gives Nicky even one second to get his head straight he’ll lose this, so he tilts his head and pushes the flat of his tongue against the base of Nicky’s cock, feels it grow harder and grins. He licks up so slow, the way he knows Nick loves, letting the tip of his tongue dig into the taut skin, closing his lips around the head and gripping the base in his fist.

Nicky hisses with pleasure, but when he sees James look up, arch in his eyebrow, practiced smirk in place despite the slight stretch of his lips, Nick feels the anger set back in his eyes. “Don’t be him, I don’t want him. Be you. Be James.”

That’s all he wants, for someone to actually tell him to stop being Spike; all he needs. He lazily drops his mouth lower and lower, so slow that any other man would have grabbed him by his ears and pressed him down; would have hurt him. But not his Nicky, Nick loves the slow torture, the draw out. And when he feels his nose dig into the yielding flesh below Nicky’s navel he swallows deep.

Hands in his hair, raking up the gelled down curls, and pulling at the roots. In the background he can hear pleas laced with moans. Useless words begging him, warning him.

There’s a moment where Nicky’s brain clears. He’s using someone, he’s married, he’s cheating and he’s coming. He forces his eyes to stay open and watches as James slides his mouth up until just the tip of his cock is hidden, watches James’ throat work as he swallows. Feels when James comes, cock still trapped in faded, streaked denim, never touched.