bakerstreet | Skeet skeet

"All workable, but they require rent. You know of many places a vampire can get a job?" Mausoleums were free, Matt. The current occupants didn't care, and there was no invitation rule. Win-win.

Matt might be blind, but Spike's not, and he enjoys the show as Matt continues to undress, lifting first one foot, then another to untie the laces of his boots so he can toe them off. "Fair enough." Then a pause. "They won't call the cops, will they? Be a shame to be mid-fun and have to explain, no, Mr. Officer, we're just playing a bit of slap and tickle." Especially if there might be a bit of blood at that point.

"I don't know, I might be able to think of a couple." Hell, if they worked for the next to nothing Karen did, Matt would hire one in a minute. So long as they were willing to abide by a few rules.

For a few seconds, a haunted expression darkens Matt's, his brow furrowing as he shakes his head. "No. They won't call the cops." Far too few people do, and even then the police don't always have the manpower (or the interest) to respond. A little banging and shouting? Doesn't rank very high when compared to fires and shootings.

"Anyway, cops show up at the door, there's always the fire escape, right?"

"I'm suddenly picturing having to jump out the window with my clothes in my arms, like I've just cuckolded someone. If that's the case, Lawyer, you'd better be worth it. Not that whoever sees won't get a lovely view." Smirking, he started to push his jeans down, showing that no, vampires (or Spike) didn't wear underwear.

Oops.

Matt can hear the slide of denim over skin, and he raises his eyebrows with a chuckle and a wince. "Commando, really?" God, he doesn't even want to imagine how horrible that would feel. Anybody who can tough that out has his respect.

Despite his remark, he closes the distance between them once the jeans are on the floor, pulling Spike toward him by the hips and snaking one hand down to wrap around his cock. He has to admit, aside from being understandably interested in finding out what the man feels like, Matt's also curious about this cool vampire skin of his, and whether it's like that everywhere.

"Saves time." That wasn't the only reason, of course, but he didn't know this Lawyer boy well enough to go into the intricacies of why he strolled around with denim rubbing up against his junk.

Matt stepped in and crossed that first line, a warm, calloused hand wrapping around Spike's erection, making the vampire lift up and rock into that grip a little. Spike was cool all over, but once things got going, he'd retain a little of that body heat of Matt's in addition to exertion. Hopefully. "Didn't expect a lawyer to have rough hands. That anything to do with your blind but able to be grabby act?" Spike's hands were sliding up over Matt's chest, nails digging in when he reached his shoulders, letting them make light marks down along his back.

No matter how much time it saves, Matt just can't wrap his head around anyone being willing to put up being that uncomfortable all day. But what does he know, maybe vampires can turn off their responses to tactile stimuli. It makes exactly as much sense in his mind as the fact that he has a fully erect dick in his hand and not a pulse in the room other than his own.

"It might." Spike's hands are just the opposite, smooth but lean as glide over the ridges of scar tissue. Matt can't help but arch encouragingly into the scrape of nails, teasing little lines of fire across his skin. "You've got a lot of preconceived ideas about lawyers."

Because he figures the vampire isn't expecting it, Matt bends his head to brush his stubbled jaw along Spike's, scraping his teeth over the angular jut of bone.

He had been a poet in another lifetime, after all. Time didn't have the same effect on vampires as it did on humans. Oh, he scarred; had a few that he still carried from battles past, but callouses were built up over time, and he healed too quickly to gain that roughly textured ex-blister.

Spike grinned at the remark, shrugging a little as he traced his fingers over those little raised ridges here and there. "Hardly preconceived if it's true of the ones I've met, is it?"

He feels that rasp, stubble scratching at smooth skin, Spike's eyes closing as he just enjoys that sensation while he can. "Enjoying yourself?" Spike's hands slid down the back of Matt's body, fingers dipping in past the waistband of those silk boxers to grip at his ass, pulling him in as he did.

"You need to hang with a better crowd of lawyers." Not that plenty of those stereotypes don't fit the people at firms like Landman and Zack. But that's the reason he and Foggy couldn't see themselves staying.

Matt really isn't interested in thinking about his fellow attorneys at the moment, though, not with hands on his ass and that audible smirk in his ear. As their bodies move closer together, he slides his hand out from between them and runs both of them up Spike's back, enjoying the play of muscles under the cool skin.

"Mm-hm." He grins against the vampire's jaw, then tilts his head to properly find his mouth. Spike tastes about as expected in some regards, of whiskey and beer and cigarettes. But not a lot else. If vampires eat actual human food, Matt can't tell what it is. And that's a novelty he could get used to.

Spike does like to eat regular food; blood's all well and good, but life would be terrible without a good scone. He just hadn't had the opportunity in the last day or so. Blood, yes. Food... did whiskey count?

His tongue wound around Matt's, drawing it into his mouth to tangle with as he pressed his hips more firmly to Matt's. He could feel the heat and warmth and that solidness of the living erection against his pelvis, letting out a soft, pleased groan that was muffled in Matt's mouth. He drew back enough to let the other man breathe (he'd been with enough humans to know he needed to remember that was a necessity), then nudged his head at the sliding door to the bedroom. "Let's relocate. I feel like seeing what you look like all sprawled out with that little patchwork quilt design you've got going on."

Of all the questionable decisions he's made in his life, taking a vampire to his bed probably rates higher than Matt would like to admit. But despite the lack of the usual cues, he feels like he can trust the things Spike has told him. If all the guy wanted was a meal, he could have had that back in the alley.

It also wouldn't be the first time he slept with someone who could kill him. Although it would be the first time having that knowledge in advance.

Corners of his eyes crinkling, he grins steps away, slowly so he can draw his hand down Spike's chest as he moves. The bedroom is only a few steps away, and the bed only a few beyond that. Matt pushes the rumpled bedclothes aside and stretches out on the white sheets. "Do I pass inspection?"

Spike follows along after, watching the way the scars move with each step, seeing the muscles underneath skin that spoke of an active physical lifestyle. He watched that body spread out on the bed, moving to crawl in after him, hands sliding up along muscular legs as he moves further up. "Bet there's quite a story to go with this, eh?"

His hand moved from a scar to the length of him, fingers wrapping around Matt's cock as he gave it a slow, firm squeeze.

"More than one."

Matt doesn't get around anywhere near as much as Foggy has always accused him of (he has other nighttime activities to focus on), so it's always an unfamiliar but pleasant sensation to have attention given to his scars in a way that isn't medical. He's never been embarrassed by them, but they do tend to encourage questions he usually tries to avoid.

He exhales heavily, open-mouthed, as Spike strokes his erection, hips rising into the touch as his head falls back. Matt runs his own hands over Spike's shoulders, palms smoothing down and then nails dragging lightly back up. Probably he should be nervous about a blood-drinker that close to where he's most vulnerable, but probably he should be nervous about standing on the ledges of tall buildings, too.

"Maybe someday I'll tell you one of them."

"Humans are so incredibly peculiar. You'll let me get my hands on the goods, but perish the thought I know something," he said with a little laugh, hand sliding up along Matt's shaft until he was running his thumb over the head of his cock. He swirled it around the slit, rubbing any precome into warm, oddly soft skin before he stroked downward.

He lowered his head so he could lick at the reddened head, fingers gliding down until he was fondling the round sac resting at the base of Matt's cock. "What would it take to get a story out of you now, mm?"

The attentions to his cock pull a soft sound out him, that tongue a somewhat louder sound, and Matt's abdomen tenses with the desire to push upward. He's still reaching down, fingers mussing Spike's hair and gliding over a muscled bicep.

"You're- ah- off to an okay start. Make it worth my while and I might share a secret or two."

Not all of them, not until he feels more certain that Spike has no reason to turn him in to either side of the law. But wouldn't it be nice to open up to someone who isn't going to judge him for what he does?

Matt would eventually find out that Spike and 'the law' were not on speaking terms. Really, one had to avoid them when one was undead, if only to keep from answering questions like 'who killed that man' and 'aren't you supposed to be dead?'

He feels fingers in his hair, gliding over his skin, and he rewards that touch with the barest tracing tease of his teeth edging along the ridge of Matt's cock before he licks over it, tongue circling around it before he draws back, hand coming up to smear a little of that wet around. "Shag you senseless and I'll get all the good bits?"

The barest trace of teeth is a lot to someone with Matt's senses, and he can't stop his hips from bucking upwards.

"Christ!" He can't help but wonder immediately what it's going to feel like when those fangs come out, although he's not sure even his tolerance for pain could handle a bit there. Other sensitive places on his body, though? Yeah, the thought has him shivering a little.

His fingers tighten in Spike's hair, and he waves his other hand vaguely to one side. "Lube's in the drawer. You 'shag me senseless' and you can have one good bit. I'm not that easy."

There was a soft chuckle before Spike took his hands from Matt and moved to crawl over to the drawer being waved at. A sliding thud and he'd drawn it open, pulling out the bottle and giving it a shake as he knelt over the blind man, bending down to lick up the center of his chest. "We bargaining for stories? There's a first. Tell me, lawyer man, you want me to roll you over and press you into the bed, or shall I do it as is, so I can see the look on your face?"

Matt is sorry to lose that contact even for a brief time, so while Spike fetches the lube he takes the opportunity to slide his hands along the man's legs, enjoying the lean muscles he finds there. The oral fixation makes sense, he thinks, as he hums at the slick slide of tongue against his skin. He won't mind having this man's mouth all over him.

"You seem to enjoy having to work for what you get." There's a grin on his face as he tugs Spike's head up for a hungry kiss, nipping at his lip when he pulls away again. "Why not both?"

Chances are good Spike's going to outlast him, but there's also a damn good chance, if he's got any skill at all, that Matt can get it up twice.

He moves into the kiss, tipping his head so he can slide his tongue into Matt's mouth, humming before he draws back a little. "Greedy, aren't we?" His hand moved down to cup Matt's sac, fondling it gently before he gave it a little tug, fingers shifting to wrap around the hard shaft instead. "You'll have to convince me you're worth two rounds."

Spike crawled back between Matt's legs, spreading his knees wider to give him more room to work. The cap of the lube was flicked off and he tipped the bottle to drizzle a little cold liquid over Matt's cock. Why? Because why not?

He lets his knees fall open easily, heels digging a little into the mattress. The sudden chill of cold lube makes him jerk with a shout that turns into laughter as he picks up one foot to give Spike a retaliatory shove. "Asshole."

This is definitely going to be interesting; Spike is already nudging at his reactions in a way Matt isn't used to but quickly discovers are more than welcome. If it turns out there's no such thing as a sexy vampire who doesn't murder you in your own bed, well. It's a hell of a lot nicer way to go than gasping for breath in a dumpster.

"I get off on pain, my sense of touch is as heightened as my sense of smell, and I have better control over my autonomic functions than most people." He cocks an eyebrow in challenge. "Bring it on."

"I'll get there," he said, a tongue in cheek answer to the insult, one he chose to take as a request. His hand moved to slide some of that lube up over Matt's shaft, then down around to the crack of his ass, teasing fingers over that warm ring of muscle.

Brows that Matt couldn't see lifted, and Spike licked his lips, pressing a finger in, testing. "Considering this road map of scars, you must have ruined quite a few sheets, mm? You make your doctors uncomfortable when you start coming while they stitch you up?"

The remark is answered with another laugh, and Matt has already decided that whatever happens, he likes this guy just for his boldness and sense of humor. And the excellent use of a pair of really nice hands.

His knees open further, encouraging, and Matt exhales a puff of breath as he bears down a little against that intruding finger. Adequate prep is always important, but he's always a little impatient once he gets wound up. He's not interested in too careful.

"Got an old set I throw on the couch." Because silk sheets are expensive and the firm does not bring in enough for him to waste it by bleeding on everything he owns. "And I do my own stitching. Don't like hospitals."

"Right, so what, you just stroke one out with each pass of the needle? Kinky bugger." He grins again as he presses that one finger in, feeling the way Matt's body is pushing back, like he wants it that badly. Spike obliges, adding a second finger and twisting them both, lubing them up while he slicks Matt open. "Can't say I blame you on hospitals. Butchers, the lot of them. 'Course, I come from a time when that was a more apt description."

Ah, the good old days of leeching.

"It's not exactly like that." The grin is practically audible, though, and Matt isn't about to get prissy over semantics at a time like this. He grins back, mouth falling open in a long groan as the second finger breaches him. Not that it's a surprise at all, but the man definitely knows what he's doing.

"Nothing against doctors." He does want it that badly, and he rocks his hips a little more urgently, heartbeat speeding up in anticipation. "Just ask too many questions."

It takes a second for him to remember that there's no reason a lawyer should care about a paper trail. It's kind of a good thing his enemies have never considered this as a method of obtaining information, because apparently a couple fingers up his ass is all it takes to short-circuit his common sense.

"That your very polite lawyer-like way of telling me to shut my yap?" He leaned down, tongue flicking out to lick over one of those prominent scars. "Or would you prefer I found something else to do with it?"

He liked to push. To make the person he was with squirm. If it was someone he cared for, someone who truly mattered, he wanted to be the most important thing in the room -- in the world. If it was a bit of fluff and fun, he just wanted to be in control. To be the reason someone else did or didn't get off.

Skeet skeet

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