End of the Evening

Author\'s Notes: They aren\'t mine. They never have been. They never will be unless I suddenly become the luckiest person in the universe. Anyway, this fic is pretty much the starting point for me to do a little exploring of the relationship between Jet and Spike, which is pretty sadly neglected in fandom from what I\'ve seen. So yes, there will be more.


*****


So the world spun. He lay on his back and stared up blankly, not really sure what he was seeing. It was all cold and gray and there was a little bit of black over there to his left. He suspected that was a window. Or something. It was a great puzzle to him why things seemed so fuzzy at the moment. Usually, he was pretty sharp. Aware of his surroundings. On his toes. His toes...

He wiggled them experimentally and even though he couldn\'t actually feel them he was pretty sure they were down there. Toes didn\'t just get up and wander off, did they? The thought scared him a bit and he lifted his head to check. Everything went weird, lines and shimmering, and his stomach gave an unpleasant jolt as his brain did the backstroke right out of his nose.

Shit, that was nasty. Must have been hit hard. But by what? There was a clue around here somewhere, he felt sure of it. There was always a clue lying around for the hero to find. Cause otherwise how was the hero supposed to figure out what was going on? Yeah...

He was the hero, right?

Of course he was because he was him and you\'re always the hero of your own story. Right. Now that that issue had been settled, he experimentally moved some other limbs. His legs and arms felt like lead, but he thought maybe there was something in his hand. His brain (which had decided that the out of doors was a smelly and unfriendly place and had crawled back into his skull via his ear) jumped to the logical conclusion that whatever he was clutching was a Clue, and so he lifted his hand and positioned it carefully in front of his face. There was indeed something in his hand and his face split in a triumphant grin as he regarded it. It wavered back and forth in his unsteady grip and he narrowed his eyes, trying to discern what, precisely, it was.

A bottle...empty...fingers practically fused around it...label says...

Label says whiskey. Oh.

\"Spike\'s DRUNK!!\" That would be Ed, Spike reflected, and he was proven right when a cheerful child\'s face hove into view. \"Oh, Ed told him not to keep drinking that whole bottle, but he just wouldn\'t listen! And now his poor brains are all mush...\" She made a sad little moue with her mouth that Spike was fairly certain she\'d copied from Faye. He grinned up at her and she giggled. He hated kids. Really, passionately, without a doubt hated them. Stupid sticky little monsters...

Ed was alright though. Ed was useful and amusing and cute and she was his friend, dammit. He wanted to give her a hug, but he knew if he tried to move he\'d just flail into her and probably knock her out with the empty whiskey bottle. All things considered, not a good idea. Although, if he knocked her out he wouldn\'t have to listen to her shrill little voice anymore and there was no risk that she would hare off and come back dragging Jet...

...unless she already had. Fuck. Spike smiled stupidly up at his best friend\'s face, fully ignoring the dark scowl twisting Jet\'s features. He was pissed and understandably so. From what Spike had managed to piece together, which wasn\'t a whole hell of a lot, he figured himself to be sprawled across some console or another. Probably mashing all kinds of buttons with his elbows and sending interesting messages to nice old space grannies. Poor things. They must be scandalized.

\"That was my whiskey.\" Jet\'s voice was vaguely admonishing, but even so it was more enjoyable than Ed\'s. It wasn\'t quite so...well, it had a certain...okay, it didn\'t feel like a psychotic gnome was stabbing him in the eardrums with a crocheting needle.

\"I know.\" Even to him, his words sounded slurred. But everything else was slurred anyway, so he might as well just go with the flow.

\"It was expensive.\" A warm, hard hand closed around his wrist and dragged him to a sitting position. Bye bye, space grannies! His stomach lurched warningly and he fell against Jet\'s shoulder, using the larger man\'s bulk to support himself.

\"I think I\'m gonna throw up,\" he warned. Another arm encircled his waist and hoisted him upright. Down in his gut, dinner and the alcohol mustered their forces for the short march up his esophagus.

\"You that drunk?\" Jet took a few steps and Spike attempted to follow. His feet, however, were doing their best water balloon impression and he couldn\'t, for the life of him, keep them properly positioned beneath him. Jet heaved a much put upon sigh and picked him up. His stomach rumbled warningly and he groaned.

\"Yeeeah...\" How had he gotten this drunk, though? It was just the bottle of Jet\'s whiskey. Oh, and half a fifth of gin. And some scotch. And the sake. He thought it was the sake that had done him in. That stuff never sat well with him. \"It was the sake!!\" he declared, waving his arms around wildly. One of them caught Jet full in the face and he stumbled backward a few steps and sneezed.

\"You drank the sake? Faye\'s gonna kill you.\" Jet kicked open a door and Spike looked around blearily.

\"What\'re we doin\' in the head, Jet?\"

\"You\'re about to take a shower.\" Spike nodded, grinning stupidly as Jet propped him against the wall. Yes, a shower. How lovely! What a great guy Jet was to think of a shower. It was so sensible. Except...

\"How \'m I gonna stand up?\" There was a hiss as Jet turned on the water, and then the creaking ping of the pipes. \"I don\' think I can stand up an\' bathe an\' all.\" Jet turned back to him and helped him out of his coat. His hands were strong and large on Spike\'s shoulders and it seemed that he lingered just a little too long, pulled Spike just a little too close when he slid the coat off. In spite of (or perhaps because of) his inebriated state, Spike was hyper-aware of the mechanical smell that seemed to perpetually surround Jet. He smiled dreamily and pitched forward, resting his head on Jet\'s broad chest.

\"You can sit down,\" the pilot replied, looping his arms underneath Spike\'s and dragging him toward the tiny stall. Spike managed to kick off his shoes, hands grasping at Jet\'s clothing.

\"Can\'t bathe though,\" he protested feebly. Jet pulled his tie off and tossed it on the floor. Spike\'s eyes were irresistibly drawn to where it lay, crumpled and alone on the floor...a cast-off...just like him...poor tie...

\"Spike, you\'re getting melodramatic.\" Spike blinked a couple of times, trying to process exactly how Jet had come by this little nugget of information. He hadn\'t been talking out loud. He knew because his lips and tongue couldn\'t handle complex words like \'the\' without tripping over themselves, but the tie pity had been crystal clear to his mental ear. \"Don\'t look so confused. You were gazing at the damn tie like it was a starving puppy or something.\"

That took a moment more of contemplation. There was something about that last statement that made him feel weird, like it wasn\'t entirely accurate. What was it, though...? Oh. Right. \"I hate dogs.\"

\"Of course,\" Jet said, and clearly he wasn\'t even listening. Spike didn\'t blame him. If he had been Jet and he had been forced to tend to his drunken self, he probably wouldn\'t have listened either. He started to nod in agreement with his newest epiphany, but recalled his brain\'s recent unfortunate habit of escaping through various orifices in his head and stopped just in time. Jet shoved his shirt off of his shoulders, hands brushing Spike\'s newly baskinskin.

Whoa.

He almost stumbled backwards before realizing that if he did that Jet would just grab his shoulders to steady him. And that would put them both in a world of hurt because right then, for whatever reason, Jet\'s hands were like nirvana. Spike wanted to lean into them like a cat, to arch and purr and beg for more. It was shameless and he put it down to being really, incredibly drunk, but he couldn\'t shake the suspicion that Jet\'s hands would feel absolutely amazing running down his spine and across his...

\"Jet?\"

\"Hmm?\" Good, he still wasn\'t ng mng much attention. Chances were he hadn\'t yet noticed the sudden inappropriate tightness in the general region of Spike\'s crotch.

\"Does booze make you horny?\"

That got his attention, and his pale eyes met Spike\'s with a disturbing frankness. For a second Spike was certain that Jet was going to bend him over the counter and fuck him stupid, and he recoiled slightly. Not that he wasn\'t already stupid, and not that he hadn\'t been fucked a couple of times before, and not that he didn\'t find Jet attractive or anything...certainly not that. He could feel the heat from Jet\'s organic hand radiating maybe a few inches from his bare waist and he fought the temptation to sway into it, make it look like an accident. Just one touch. Just long enough to feel hard calluses against his skin, maybe incite the dig of fingernails that came with a reflexive clutch. He shivered at the thought, goosebumps rising on his flesh.

The moment passed, though, and Jet herded him over to the toilet and shoved him down. Spike sat with a thump and a woosh of air and, in the several seconds it took him to regain his bearings, he decided that Jet\'s cybernetic hand was every bit as sexy as his real hand and also that he should never, ever think that again. Jet knelt on the floor and pulled Spike\'s socks off carefully.

\"Was that a \'you\' as in \'me\' or a \'you\' as in \'all of humankind\'?\" His voice hadn\'t changed, not even a little. Spike was mildy disappointed.

\"Um. More a \'you\' as in \'me\', I think, but all of humankind works too,\" he replied, squinting down at Jet\'s head. He wondered if the hair that his friend undoubtedly had on his chest was as thick and dark as the hair that grew on his face. Then he wondered what it would feel like tangled in his fingers as his hands roamed down Jet\'s broad chest and across his abdomen. He knew the skin under it would be slick with sweat and lust and that his hands and mouth would explore every...last...inch...

\"Spike?\" The snap back to reality was a cruel one and he groaned at the overwhelming nausea that gripped him upon his return. \"You okay? You\'re looking a bit flushed.\" Spike managed to crack an eye open in time to see Jet\'s hand rising to test his forehead for fever and he jerked back, whanging his head against the wall.

\"FUCK!!!\"

It took a few seconds for the ringing in his ears to subside, and even then his skull seemed to vibrate gently. Very, very carefully Spike uncrossed his eyes and forced them to focus. Okay. Okay, he was still in the head and Jet was still in front of him and he was still sitting down and the water was still running. Good. Now to figure out what was different. Well, for one, his head felt like someone had taken a jackhammer to it. And he was certain that if he looked at the toilet he wouldn\'t be able to hold off on throwing up anymore; his stomach roiled like...like...well, he couldn\'t come up with a good simile right now, but the word \'miasma\' summed it up pretty nicely.

And Jet\'s hands were cupping his head, his face inches from Spike\'s, and his eyes crinkled at the corners with concern and mirth. Well, shit. Spike tried valiantly to pretend that there was nothing even remotely arousing about Jet\'s breath hot on his cheek, and Jet\'s fingers probing the back of his skull, and Jet\'s huge, hard body nestled just so between his legs. He failed miserably.

\"Uh, Jet...\" Spike tried to squirm away, acutely aware of the warmth spreading through his pelvis and leaking into his legs and abdomen like a flood of honey.

\"Shh,\" Jet ordered, pulling him closer and tipping his head forward. Spike\'s vision swam and his forehead smacked gently into Jet\'s shoulder. If he just reached out right now he could run a hand down his friend\'s pectoral muscles, trace the inward slant of his waist. It was so, so tempting... \"Doesn\'t look too bad. No blood or anything, but you\'ll have a nasty lump for a few days.\" His cybernetic hand, cool against Spike\'s scalp, smoothed the hair back. Spike fancied that he was combing it fondly.

\"Mm, good.\" It was all Spike could manage, caught up as he was in trying to absorb the warmth and smell of Jet\'s body. Sweat and pheromones and cigarette smoke filled his nostrils as they flared hungrily. His lips parted slightly, tasting the air around his friend. Spike could almost imagine what Jet\'s skin would feel like under his tongue and he shuddered in frustration, hand coming up to grip Jet\'s arm. \"Think I should get in the shower now.\"

\"Right.\" Jet steadied him and stood up, and Spike bit his lips longingly. He was so...fuckable. \"You have any trouble just yell, okay?\" Trouble. Hah. He had worlds of trouble. Galaxies of trouble. Universes even. He was so horny he could taste it and Jet was just standing there all strong and sexy and fucking oblivious. It was enough to make him want to scream.

\"Never answered my question,\" Spike remarked, rising with one hand to the wall. It surprised him that he was able to form the sentence let alone slip it past his numb lips. Must be sobering up a little. Good. His fingers fumbled with his belt as Jet backed out of the room, one careful eye still on Spike.

\"What, about being horny?\" Spike decided to chance a nod this time. His brain, devoid of blood and marinating in liquor, opted to stay put and contented itself with sloshing nauseatingly against his skull. Jet thought for a moment, giving him that \'I\'m going to ravish you here and now if you so much as blink\' look again, and then he shrugged. \"Nope.\"

\"Kay.\" Right, that meant it wasn\'t the alcohol that had his cock standing at full attention inside his trousers. He squinted around, trying to see if there was anything in the bathroom that might have aroused his interest, but his eyes settled only on the rather bare accoutrements with which they made due. That left only one thing it could be, really, and so Spike decided that it was okay to ogle Jet\'s ass as his friend left the room. After all, if Jet had the nerve to go around inflaming tesiresires of ordinarily straight men then he deserved what he got!

Spike peeled off his pants and underwear with careful, drunken precision and climbed cautiously into the shower. His cock bobbed against his stomach as he moved, smearing precum by way of greeting. Spike stared down at it blankly for a moment, then experimentally ran his fingers up it and thought of Jet. His cock gave a little twitch and seemed to nuzzle blindly at his hand, begging for attention.

Sighing, Spike turned to face the shower, opening his mouth and gulping down the lukewarm water. That should help keep his vomitous impulses under control and hopefully sober him up a bit. Sober was his goal now that Jet had left. Perhaps once he was no longer an inebriated sot the crawling lust in his belly would abate a little...His hand moved thoughtfully on his cock, fingers circling it loosely and smearing precum across the head. A pleasant tingle suffused his lower body and he smiled into the spray. If he couldn\'t have drunken sex, the next best thing was a drunken wank...

He closed his eyes and let the water roll across his face and through his hair, faint little touches that trickled across his skin like long, boneless fingers. Slowly, he let himself tip backwards until his shoulders met the cold wall of the shower and, slick with water, he slid into a comfortable seated position. His hand never left his cock, stroking and teasing with just the right amount of pressure in just the right places. Slow, but not too slow. Soft, but not too soft. His breathing slowed and evened out, and behind the shutters of his eyelids the world spun gently.

He pretended that his hand was Jet\'s hand, that the hard wall at his back was Jet\'s chest. It was an imperfect illusion; his fingers were long and slender, not blunt and hard, and the wall was cold and smooth instead of hot and alive. Still, he held the fantasy in his mind. Jet lovingly stroking his cock, knowing just where to touch to build slow waves of pleasure. Jet bending to run his lips and teeth along the column of Spike\'s neck, beard and sideburns tickling the exposed skin. Jet running his free hand across Spike\'s chest, teasing his nipples into sharp points and sending tremors of excitement through Spike\'s body. And the entire time, Jet\'s own erection dug into Spike\'s back, hard and heavy...

\"Fuck yeah,\" he whispered, voice lost in the hissing spray of the shower. \"Just like that...\" His hips arched, feet bracing against the end of thell. ll. His fingers, Jet\'s fingers, pressed and stroked and teased, gliding fluidly up and down his shaft in an intricate dance of lust. \"Fuck...Jet...\" Pleasure grew in his belly, a hard knot of ecstasy that trembled on the verge of explosion. He moved faster, little gasps and moans escaping his lips and echoing in the small room. \"AAH, JET!\"

\"Spike...?\" Shit, it was so real he could almost hear Jet\'s voice, rumbling bass in his ears. He drew a deep shuddering breath, hand moving faster, almost a blur now as his body twisted and contorted with need. \"Spike, are you okay...\"

There was a soft hiss, totally out of place in the fantasy world he had created, and then a sharp intake of breath from somewhere above and to the left. Well, fuck. Spike cracked open an eye, hand stilling on his cock, and his body gave a soundless scream of fury. All his muscles trembled in frustration and his breath came sharp and ragged as he slowly tilted his head up. Better make that a double fuck. Hold the sugar.

\"Spike, what are you doing?\" Jet towered over him, a shadowy giant silhouetted by the dim lights behind him. The look of supreme confusion on his face was almost too priceless. Spike grinned.

\"Masturbating,\" he replied, trying to keep his voice from being too cheerful.

\"I can see that.\" Jet rather looked like he wished he couldn\'t. His eyes slid away from Spike, focusing instead on a spot on the wall. Spike might have laughed, but there was something in Jet\'s body language that warned him to keep quiet. \"I thought I heard you call.\" It was more a question than a statement and, for a moment, Jet met Spike\'s eyes.

\"You did.\" His voice was deliberately casual. Don\'t make a big stinking deal out of it and maybe he won\'t...Yeah right, Spiegel. In your dreams.

\"Wait..you mean..\" Realization dawned and Jet\'s voice took on a tinge of outrage. \"You were using me as whack fodder?\" Ooh, ouch. There was no way to get out of this one gracefully.

\"That\'s such a crude term...\"

\"Spike!!\" Backpedal, backpedal! There had to be some way to diffuse the situation. He reviewed his options. Okay, first of all it would probably be a good idea to cease clutching his erection. Second, quit looking at Jet\'s crotch. That one was a bit harder, considering it was right there at eye level and very, very tempting. NO! No more of that! Just...stay cool...There had to be something he could say, some magic word that could make it all right. Sorry?

\"Join me?\" All right, that was it. No more drinking for him. Ever. Spike couldn\'t make out any distinct features on Jet\'s face, but there was definitely a widening of the eyes. Very slowly and deliberately, Jet backed away from the shower. There was a wary gleam in hiss, ls, like he had just caught sight of something large and nasty. With fangs. That smelled. \"That...wasn\'t exactly what I meant to say.\"

Jet nodded slowly and continued to back away, edging towards the door. He was acting like Spike was a rabid dog or something, an attitude that was beginning to annoy Spike. You\'d think from the way he was staring, Spike\'s cock had sprouted fangs and was trying to gobble him up. Spike seriously considered snarling and snapping. Oh my god, it has TEETH! He managed to restrain himself, reasoning that if he made any sudden movements Jet was liable to knock him one.

So he sat very still in the shower as Jet slipped out and shut the door behind him. With a tiny, inaudible sigh, he turned back to face the spray. It was starting to get cold...Best turn it off before he caught holy hell from Faye for using up all the hot water. The thought came and went, but Spike made no move to get up or to shut off the shower. Too much effort. Suddenly, everything seemed like way too much effort. Hell, even sitting in the stall and willing away the vestiges of his lust seemed like a herculean feat.

It was all Jet\'s fault, really. For being there and for teasing the way he had and then for acting like Spike was a freak for being a little horny. After all, what was a little sex between friends, right? Right...Mostly, Spike considered, it was Jet\'s fault for even being his friend in the first place. Because if they weren\'t friends then Spike wouldn\'t be here and he wouldn\'t have consumed all of Jet\'s whiskey and he wouldn\'t be this drunk. And if he wasn\'t this drunk, Jet never would have tossed him in the shower and he never would have gotten a hard-on for Jet and this whole ugly incident could have been easily avoided. Yep. All Jet\'s fault.

The door opened again, forcefully this time, and Spike dropped his head against the wall. There were only two people it could be: Ed or Faye. If it was Ed, Spike would be forced to endure her antics and her endless nonsensical childish prattle until she lost interest. On the bright side, that would probably only take about two minutes, but still. It was the principle of the thing. If it was Faye, on the other hand, he would have to listen to some angry diatribe, either about wasting all the hot water or about drinking all of the sake. Either way, he didn\'t particularly feel up to it, and he closed his eyes against the impending intrusion.

There was no sound, though, that he could distinguish above the rush of water from the shower. Strange...He supposed Ed could be sneaking up on him, or just sneaking in general. She did that sometimes, creeping along the corridors on all fours as though stalking an invisible prey. Or it could be Ein. The dog couldn\'t open the door on his own, but maybe Jet hadn\'t shut it all the way and Ein had simply nosed it open. Although why he would do such a thing was quite beyond Spike, at least for the moment. Unless of course he was following Ed. Who was sneaking. For no particular reason. Fuck. His head was starting to spin. He took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut tighter, willing it all away.

For a second, much to his shock, he thought it had worked. The water abruptly stopped and the weird, roaring silence that filled his mind with the cessation of the drops was nearly as unpleasant as the vertigo he\'d experienced a moment before. The first thought that entered his head, once it fully registered that he was, in fact, no longer taking a shower, was that Faye had come in and simply cut the water off without saying anything. Possibly, she had assumed he was sleeping. But no...Faye wasn\'t that considerate and anyway, he could still hear the shower going. It just...wasn\'t...hitting him...Shit.

He peeled open an eye, not bothering to tilt his head back. Either he\'d see what he expected to see and then proceed to die of shock, or he\'d discover that Faye had, in fact, turned the water off and he was merely hallucinating the sound. He almost hoped it was the latter, but no. There they were, right where he\'d expected them to be, very carefully not touching his legs. (Which, in and of itself, was quite a feat seeing as how his legs were about a mile long each and positioned in a haphazard tangle against the walls and along the floor.) Another pair of legs, planted deliberately in front of him....And they could only belong to one person.

\"Um,\" he managed before a huge hand enveloped his upper arm and dragged him to a standing position. The slippery caress of skin on skin jolted his cock fully awake again and Spike grinned, trying desperately to pretend he wasn\'t naked in the shower with his best friend. It didn\'t work so well. \"So...Jet...How\'s it hanging?\"

The smile that curved across Jet\'s face was possibly the lewdest thing he\'d ever seen in his life, and the rumbling laugh that issued from deep in the other man\'s belly more or less amounted to sexual assault without all that pesky touching. Spike shivered and resisted the urge to lean against Jet\'s chest, although he couldn\'t quite help noticing the crisp black hair that curled across it, thick as he had imagined. It was beginning to dampen as water trickled over Jet\'s massive shoulders and down his body. Spike followed an errant drop as it meandered its way from Jet\'s collarbone down and around the flat disc of his nipple, hugging the line of his stomach and hipbone before vanishing down his leg.

\"Spike? You okay?\" Spike paused a moment to think about that. He hadn\'t ever heard the low growling voice that Jet seemed to have adopted, but even semi schnockered he knew enough to recognize it for what it was. That basso profundo rumble was Jet\'s bedroom voice. He was planning on getting laid. Spike considered his thoughts on the matter. They pretty much amounted to \'hell fucking yeah\'.

\"I\'m fine,\" he replied, only mildly surprised to note that his voice, too, had dropped an octave. He laid the tip of his finger on Jet\'s inner thigh, almost too light to be considered touching. \"I was just watching a drop of water...\" His finger traced the meandering path of the droplet in reverse, barely brushing Jet\'s skin although he craved the feel of his friend\'s body under his hands. It could wait. He was patient.

His finger described an arc around Jet\'s nipple, close enough to tease but not to make any substantial contact. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jet\'s face tightening in concentration, and he knew if he looked down he would see his friend\'s cock beginning to stir. It was a bit of a heady feeling, knowing that he could turn Jet on with just a fingertip and he swayed slightly, planting his hand against Jet\'s shoulder to keep himself upright.

\"How drunk are you?\" Oh, shit. Here he was, getting all moral. Can\'t fuck Spike because he\'s drunk and that would be wrong. No more wrong than the fohat hat he\'d find up his ass the next day if he tried to walk away now. Spike clenched his jaw. No way in hell was he going to let Jet just send him off to bed with a pat on the head and his best wishes. No fucking way. Jet must have seen the determined gleam in Spike\'s eyes because he hastened to amend his statement. \"Just wanna know if there\'s a chance you\'re gonna throw up on me.\" The easy grin that he flashed was closer to the Jet that Spike was used to, but there was still a slightly dangerous predatory edge to it.

\"Not very,\" he replied, willing the slur out of his voice. As if this wasn\'t hard enough already! Stupid Jet making his life difficult...Of course he wasn\'t going to throw up. He never threw up. Well...okay, that was a lie. He did throw up, just never when he was trying to get laid. That would be rude.

\"Mm, good.\" The growl was back but Spike barely had time to shiver before Jet\'s arm circled his waist and pulled him close. Helloooo there! His hands shot up, automatically defensive, and Jet laughed. Woah, down boy. No one was getting hurt tonight. Stupid reflexes. Stupid reflexes that only kicked in after Jet had him in a firm embrace. Stupid alcohol slowing down his reaction time. Stupid...

Teeth and lips found his neck, nipping and sucking. Jet\'s lips were softer than he\'d anticipated, his facial hair somewhat rougher. Still, it was close enough to his earlier fantasy to send a shiver of lust down Spike\'s body. Large hands caressed his back, fingers digging in to his spinal column as he arched happily. His arms snaked around Jet\'s neck almost of their own accord, tightening and drawing him closer still, and he relished the slick slide of Jet\'s hands across his skin.

\"Tell me,\" Jet murmured into his ear, hands still probing and stroking, exploring every inch of Spike that was readily accessible. \"what you were thinking about.\" Spike, finding that his tongue had inexplicably decided to rebel, could only moan and rub himself shamelessly against Jet and hope to hell that communicated his intentions. Jet laughed, the sound of it echoing gently in Spike\'s ear, and nipped at Spike\'s jawline. \"What\'s the matter, Spike? Cat got your tongue?\"

The helpless snarl that ripped it\'s way free from Spike\'s throat proved to be capable of smooth transition to an all out scream of surprise and pleasure as Jet\'s index finger slipped inside him up to the knuckle. He thought he saw Jet smirking, but between the alcohol and the lust and the gentle fingertip brushing so soft against his prostate it was pretty much a lost cause to attempt to identify anything. Spike squeezed his eyes shut and clung to Jet, his cries of pleasure softening to mewling whimpers, begging Jet for more.

\"Is this it?\" Spike felt the words more than he heard them, ear pressed to the solid bulk of his friend\'s chest. \"Is this what you were thinking about?\" A second finger joined the first and Spike bit back a scream. God, wouldn\'t it just be fantastic if Faye heard and came barging in. He\'d kill her...Jet spun him around, easy on the slick shower floor, and everything whirled, a slow carousel of color and sensation. Spike leaned back with a soft groan, fitting his head neatly under Jet\'s chin, and attempted valiantly to swallow the bile that rose in his throat. Yeah, so maybe this hadn\'t been one of his most stellar plans. There were, of course, things to be said for drunken shower sex, just as there were things to be said for drunken buddy sex. But Spike was beginning to have serious doubts regarding the wisdom of combining the two.

And then Jet thrust a third finger into him, simultaneously wrapping his cybernetic hand around Spike\'s erection. Again, Spike managed to choke back a scream although this time it was considerably more difficult. The hand on his cock was heavy, sleek and cold and careful, and it moved slowly in time with the fingers buried deep in his body. Damn Jet and his teasing! His fingers pushed deep inside Spike with each thrust, brushing his prostate just enough that he writhed in agonized pleasure, trying to force more substantial contact. Behind him, Jet laughed and lowered his head, sinking his teeth gently into the side of Spike\'s neck.

\"Son of a bitch,\" Spike gasped, finding his voice at last out of sheer frustration. \"Tease...\" Jet\'s laugh was low, growling, and he withdrew his fingers, removed his hand from Spike\'s cock. Spike barely had time to blink, let alone start cussing his friend out, before Jet kicked his legs wide and forced his arms up.

\"Brace yourself,\" he ordered. Spike hastened to obey, fixing his hands firmly against the wall. It wasn\'t the best of positions to be in, what with the water and the slippery tile and his legs, which were growing more and more unsteady by the second. For about half a second, Spike considered calling the whole thing off but then Jet\'s arm was tight around his waist and his cock was pressing in, thick and hard and eager. They moaned in unison, Jet with his teeth clenched hard and Spike with his head down, hair dripping water into his eyes and nose and mouth. His muscles, relaxed already from the alcohol and Jet\'s careful ministrations, expanded to accommodate the intruder and Jet slid in fully, smooth as silk.

The two of them were still for a moment, gasping and shivering under the cooling spray of the shower, unsure of what to make of the situation. It had only just occured to Spike that he was really doing it, he was really fucking Jet, and while the thought brought with it a certain forbidden carnal thrill, it also came loaded with a distinctly uneasy realization. After all, this was his best friend, a man he\'d lived in close quarters with for a pretty significant period of time. That they were standing in the shower, Jet\'s cock buried in his ass, was almost too weird for Spike to comprehend. His part in this could be excused; he was incredibly drunk and his judgment was obviously a bit impaired. But what reason could Jet have?

The beginnings of an answer were stirring in Spike\'s mind only to be driven out by Jet\'s first thrust. He\'d angled it perfectly so that his cock struck Spike\'s prostate hard, and Spike gave a startled cry at the sensation. Damn, it had been a long time since he\'d done this...And as Jet began to fuck him in earnest, pulling almost fully out and slamming back in with enough force to rattle Spike\'s teeth, Spike wondered why that was. He\'d very nearly forgotten just how much fun another man could be.

Jet\'s hand found his cock again, wrapping around it and stroking roughly in time with his thrusts and Spike tried not to scream, gritting his teeth and holdins brs breath. God! Fuck that it had been a long time since he\'d had sex with a man. It had been a long time since he\'d had sex period and he was close, dangerously close. The thought of coming with Jet buried deep inside him was at once completely erotic and utterly horrifying, and he tried his damnedest to hold back. It was, at best, a futile effort; he\'d been too aroused for far too long and the combined sensations of Jet\'s cock striking his prostate, Jet\'s hand on his erection, Jet\'s huge arm around his waist, his hard body curled over Spike\'s...

He came, back arching, body twisting, and the scream that had been lurking in his throat tore its way free, echoing in the tiny bathroom. Both of Jet\'s arms clamped tight around him, crushing his torso in a bear hug to end all bear hugs, and his hips gave one last jerk. Spike barely felt it. His mind, overloaded on sensations, was systematically shutting down, one last fuck you to end the night. He sagged in Jet\'s arms, his muscles suddenly unwilling to support him and, as he closed his eyes and let his legs slip out from under him, he felt his friend lift him carefully and cradle him.

He half slept through Jet drying off and getting dressed, though he came back to himself somewhat at the roughness of a towel around his body. He tried to concentrate on that, not fully ready for the warnings clamoring to be heard in his skull. Still, in some dim recess of his mind, Spike knew that he\'d have to deal with this in the morning. He wasn\'t so drunk that the memory would blur and fade as he slept and he felt a cold pang of dread, hating that the next time he looked at his friend he would only be able to think of the shower.

\"Jet Jet!\" Ed\'s voice was a ringing echo in his fading brain and, though he heard the words, he did not process them. \"Is Spike all right?\" There was an answering rumble from Jet, but Spike was already gone, swimming in the thick dark of unconsciousness.

\"Yeah, he\'s fine. He just needs to sleep it off.\"