Final chapter to my sequel to How to Ride and Leather and Gasoline!
I've been very entertained by your comments, and I'm happy that MOST (!) of you are rooting for the Splindsey lovin'.... ;-)
If you haven't read the first two fics (and you don't need to in order to understand this - they're mostly just smut *G*), all you need to know is that Spike works for a studio choosing set locations and lives in NY, Lindsey is a redneck country singer who lives down south, they're in an established relationship thanks to a chance dirty fuck behind a bar...and Spike has a jealous ex....
Title: Playing Dirty (Chapter 5/5)
Pairing: Spike/Lindsey
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: *sobs* So very not mine. I just abuse 'em.
Warnings: M/m relations (lots of...smutty smut smut, I tell you!), language, angst, fuckwittery...
Previous chapters here.
A/N: There are lyrics to Christian Kane's One More Shot in here. I feel REALLY bad about it (sorry Christian *cringe*) but I can only 'hear' Lindsey singing things that I've heard CK sing. Er, obviously....So, oops and sorry and...meh, everyone'll get over it ;-)
I've been very entertained by your comments, and I'm happy that MOST (!) of you are rooting for the Splindsey lovin'.... ;-)
If you haven't read the first two fics (and you don't need to in order to understand this - they're mostly just smut *G*), all you need to know is that Spike works for a studio choosing set locations and lives in NY, Lindsey is a redneck country singer who lives down south, they're in an established relationship thanks to a chance dirty fuck behind a bar...and Spike has a jealous ex....
Title: Playing Dirty (Chapter 5/5)
Pairing: Spike/Lindsey
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: *sobs* So very not mine. I just abuse 'em.
Warnings: M/m relations (lots of...smutty smut smut, I tell you!), language, angst, fuckwittery...
Previous chapters here.
A/N: There are lyrics to Christian Kane's One More Shot in here. I feel REALLY bad about it (sorry Christian *cringe*) but I can only 'hear' Lindsey singing things that I've heard CK sing. Er, obviously....So, oops and sorry and...meh, everyone'll get over it ;-)
Banner by the amazing ![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
blondebitz:
blondebitz: Chapter 5
Lindsey smiled as he finished up the number and everyone in the bar cheered and clapped wildly. It felt good to be singing – and since that was the only thing that did feel good these days, he clung to it.
Although even the music had a bittersweetness to it now. A couple of days ago, he’d been perched on the end of his bed, naked, strumming idly at his guitar, which was a habit of his. Suddenly, the memory of doing it with Spike there – legs either side of him and chest pressed up against his back – had hit him like a ton of bricks. The blond would lean into him, breathing softly against his ear while he played and sometimes Lindsey would think that he’d drifted off to sleep until he’d join in on the chorus or something, their voices harmonising perfectly.
Hugging the instrument to him, he’d cried for the first time in weeks and realised bleakly that he was nowhere near being over Spike.
The band hadn’t been quite organised enough to create a set list that evening and he turned back towards the others to have a quick conference about what to play for their last song. Bobby, who was looking at the crowd over his shoulder, suddenly froze mid-sentence.
“What?”
“I think you’d better look at who just came in, Linds,” he replied, nodding towards the door.
Lindsey whirled around…and almost collapsed as shock struck him like a lightning bolt, closely followed by pain and love and fear and hope, all crowding forwards to be acknowledged.
And then blue eyes locked onto his and he forgot how to breathe, want assaulting him hard enough to weaken his knees, but tempered by nervousness. What the fuck was he supposed to do?
Spotting that Lindsey was staring wide-eyed at Spike, gripping the mic with white knuckles and apparently not intending to move in the near future, Bobby whispered the name of their new song and the band struck up the opening bars. They were all well aware that Lindsey had written it for Spike anyway, so it seemed fitting.
Lindsey turned his head back and gaped at them dumbly for a few moments, and Bobby made an impatient gesture with his hand in between picking. Fortunately, years of performing had ingrained a singer’s instinct into him and he came in on the right note even though it was obvious from his face that he wasn’t even remotely ready to do anything more complicated than stare at Spike while he quietly freaked out. Eventually he remembered to release his death-grip on the microphone and play the guitar that was strapped to him as well.
Lindsey forced himself to look directly at the blond. Well, fuck, the song was for him anyway; the least he could do was sing the damned thing to him. He always put a lot of himself into his performances but this was different; he might as well be laying himself at Spike’s feet.
He closed his eyes briefly when he reached the point of no return – the part of the song which actually indicated that he wanted another chance to get things right.
“…I’ve got a lot of nerve to ask you back at all,
And I put this picture of you and me on a hole in the wall…
Ain’t touched a bottle in so long,
It’s not the only thing I ain’t got.
I was kinda hoping you’d prove me wrong
And give me one more shot.”
Spike’s breath caught in his throat and stuck there. He’d always loved Lindsey’s raw, smooth, masculine voice; the first time he’d ever laid eyes on him he’d been singing. To see him now, after the worst month and a half of his life, was like a soothing salve to his burning body, and to know that the song was for him was heartbreaking in the very best way.
And it was for him – there was no mistaking it. He’d never heard Lindsey sing a gender neutral song before – it was always “she” rather than the personal “you”. It wasn’t soft or slow or romantic – because he and Lindsey didn’t really do those things – but it was better because it was painful and real.
“I got this old shag rug we used to crawl on,”
They shared a small, secret smile. Lindsey’s threadbare rug was most certainly not shag-pile; they just called it the “shag rug” because all they seemed to do was fuck on it.
“And I’ve got this telephone that you used to call me on.
But since our last goodbye, yeah that phone don’t ring
And I’ve got this empty home filled with so many things…”
Lindsey ached for the truth of those words. All he’d been able to do since losing Spike was to notice his conspicuous absence. He longed for the smell of cigarette smoke, the noise that Spike seemed to bring to everything he did and the weight of the blond’s body next to him in bed.
“Was kinda hoping you’d prove me wrong, yeah
And give me one more shot.
Give me one more shot.”
Spike was fighting the tears as Lindsey came towards the end of the song. He couldn’t quite believe his luck that the other man seemed to want him back and, after seeing Lindsey practically rip out his heart and hand it over, he didn’t understand why he’d ever let him go in the first place. They’d both been so colossally stupid.
As the band finished the number, the oblivious crowd whooped and applauded enthusiastically. Lindsey, aware of nothing other than bright cobalt, slipped his guitar off and handed it blindly backwards, trusting Bobby to take it from him. And then he stepped right off the front of the stage and walked dazedly through the crowd, unmindful of the enthusiastic words and claps on the back that assaulted him.
He came to a halt about two feet in front of Spike and suddenly there was nothing else in the entire world; all extraneous sound faded to a dull thump and they couldn’t see anything but one another. Both of them were taking shallow, almost panicky breaths and their eyes were riveted on each other, stormy with various overwhelming emotions.
“Dallas,” blurted Spike, breaking the charged silence between them.
“Huh?” asked Lindsey in confusion. He had no idea what he’d expected Spike to say, but that hadn’t been it.
Just about finding the time to give himself a mental bitchslap for being a completely pathetic, nervous wanker, Spike ploughed on before he lost his nerve. “Dallas. Nice city with lots to do, great airport, if we live on the Western outskirts you can be back here in an hour and a half. If you picked work up halfway in between there and here, you could even stay back with your folks when I was travelling…”
He bit his lip nervously. It had seemed like an excellent plan on the flight down, but he hadn’t really intended to just throw it at Lindsey with all the finesse of a toddler pitching a brick.
Lindsey blinked slowly. Finally, looking a little shell-shocked, he replied, “I like Dallas.”
They suddenly both huffed out a surprised and exhilarated laugh, before taking a moment to marvel at how fucking incredibly easy everything seemed.
“Am I the only one who feels like a retard?”
“Really not.”
Lindsey took a deep breath and let it out shakily. “I’m sorry.”
Spike shook his head, blinking in an unsuccessful attempt to ward off tears. “No, it’s me that should be sorry.” Almost shyly, he held out the bag that he’d been holding, which was wrapped around something rectangular and padded with bubble-wrap. “Here. For that hole in the wall. ‘Cept maybe now we can find a new wall to put it on.”
Lindsey accepted the gift and carefully opened it with unsteady hands. Spike had framed the picture of them from the Premiere and Lindsey ran his fingers lightly over it, wondering how two people who looked so right together had managed to fuck up in such dramatic style.
“Thank you,” he said hoarsely. Slowly, he raised his eyes, wide and vulnerable and so full of need that he was afraid he’d scare Spike right back away.
Heart pumping a mile a minute while white-hot and ice-cold pinpricks tingled down his limbs with anticipation and fear, Spike swallowed hard and stepped forwards, reaching out a trembling hand to slide through Lindsey’s long hair.
Lindsey closed his eyes as ecstatic relief flooded him, making his head spin. He’d feared that he’d never feel Spike’s hands on him again; nothing came close. “I was so scared that I’d lost you for good,” he whispered, placing his free hand almost reverently on Spike’s chest. “I can’t believe you came for me.”
“Yeah, well I love you…you pillock.”
Lindsey laughed, the sound thick with emotion. “I love you too, dumbass.”
And then they were in each other’s arms, faces pressed together and intense relief pouring through their bodies at finally being back where they belonged.
Around ten seconds later, they were interrupted by Bobby’s hands on their shoulders. “Guys? I know it’s time for the big kiss scene, but I think it might be a good idea to do that somewhere that isn’t a cowhand and biker bar…”
Knowing full well that once they started they probably wouldn’t stop until clothes had been shredded and that gnawing, raging ache inside had been fulfilled, they nodded and reluctantly broke apart. They were already getting some suspicious and decidedly unfriendly looks; the bar was on a stretch of highway way out of town, frequented mostly by shiftless drifters working the nearby ranches and people passing through, and Lindsey could only assume that his family had told Spike where to look.
“So, you got your truck?”
“Hell yeah I got her.”
“You know,” began Spike as he took Lindsey’s hand – two hundred pound, burly, brawl-loving men be damned – and led him towards the exit. “I owe your girl a thank you. It was thinking about her that lit a fire under my arse…”
“Oh yeah? Told you she was special…And hopefully the bitch’ll stop breakin’ down in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere now that you’re back.”
“Missed me, did she?”
“Who wouldn’t?”
Bobby watched them leave, smiling to himself as he and the rest of the band hurriedly packed up the equipment and hightailed it out of there.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They managed to drive about a quarter mile before the lure of an unmarked dirt road just proved too much temptation to resist.
Spike raised an eyebrow at Lindsey as the pickup abruptly swung off the blacktop and bumped down the track, smiling lustfully. “Wot are we doing?” he asked with mock innocence.
Grinning as he brought her to an abrupt stop and killed the engine, Lindsey practically launched himself at Spike, trapping him wedged in the corner between the bench seat and the passenger door. They kissed hard, Spike immediately squirming until he managed to wrap his legs around Lindsey’s waist in the confined space.
“We’re…gettin’ reacquainted,” he smiled in between needy kisses, sliding his arms around Spike’s back and hauling their bodies closer, grinding their hips together.
The blond tried to reach between them to tear unwanted clothing out of the way, growling in frustration when there was no room to manoeuvre and they were too reluctant to move apart for even a few seconds. Eyelids fluttering as Lindsey fucked up against him, their clothed erections sliding together, he muttered, “This is never going to work,” and reached for the door handle.
Two seconds later found them tumbling out of the passenger door, cursing colourfully as they hit the ground with Spike on his back and Lindsey landing on top and squashing all the wind out of him.
“Nice plan,” mumbled Lindsey, shoving Spike’s knee to a safer distance away from his balls. He thoughtfully kissed the other man’s jaw and neck to give him a few moments to draw some wheezing, shaky breaths. As soon as Spike was sufficiently recovered, he grabbed Lindsey’s hair and tugged him in for a deep kiss, bucking his hips up again.
Trying to maintain their connection, Lindsey pushed himself up into a kneeling position, dragging Spike with him. Holding him tightly, noticing with abstract concern that he’d dropped some pounds since they’d last been together, Lindsey rose to his feet, picking Spike up as he did so.
“Wot the hell, cowboy?!” demanded the blond, the end of his sentence descending into a squawk as he was dumped into the bed of the truck, Lindsey grunting with the effort.
“Much as I love fuckin’ in the dirt with you, darlin’,” he said, vaulting into the back and kneeling between the other man’s legs, “This is thistle country.”
Spike laughed, allowing his tee-shirt to be stripped from his body. As he lay back down, he winced and pulled a jump lead from beneath his back. “Wot the fuck do you care? I’m the one on the bottom!”
Determinedly tearing as much of their clothing out of the way as he could, ripping his own shirt open in a sexy, powerful gesture that got a growl of appreciation from Spike, Lindsey replied, “If you think I’m risking getting thorns in my balls, then you’re even crazier ‘n I thought.”
“Just crazy for you,” smiled Spike as his boots were yanked off and unceremoniously thrown overboard, knowing that it was as cheesy as fuck and not caring at all. He shimmied out of his jeans, his hands scrabbling at Lindsey’s fly in a manner that probably wasn’t very helpful but at least gave him the illusion that they were getting naked quicker.
Lindsey settled back between Spike’s thighs, nibbling at one of his nipples and flicking his tongue at the hard nub as he wriggled furiously. “I missed you so damned much baby…and fuck but these boots are pissing me the hell off!!!”
Spike chuckled; it wasn’t the first time that Lindsey’s footwear had hampered his attempts to remove his pants. Shrugging and giving it up as a lost cause, like he usually did, he returned his attention to the blond’s body, moaning as he licked him and mapped him intimately with rough hands.
“Shit…You’re incredible,” breathed Spike, tracing Lindsey’s hard muscles. He’d been working every shift he could pick up since the split and he’d bulked up, his torso lean, tanned and defined. “Fuck me, pet…Please?”
Lindsey gasped and rested their foreheads together for a moment, reaching down to tease his fingers over Spike’s entrance. “Christ, I want you so much…I don’t have any slick; did you bring some?”
Spike sounded slightly sheepish as he said, “Would it sound like I was being presumptuous if I said yes…?”
“A little…” grinned Lindsey, kissing his nose and reaching instantly for the discarded Levis, thanking his lucky stars that Spike had had some foresight.
“I wasn’t,” assured the other man quickly. “Just…optimistic.” He arched and groaned as cool, wet fingers probed at him.
“You can’t have doubted that I still wanted you, Spike? Sounds more like you were being realistic to me,” he breathed against the blond’s lips, fucking his fingers firmly in and out as he rubbed their cocks together.
Spike pushed back, clinging to Lindsey’s body and panting a little. “But I did doubt it, luv. I was terrified…And it feels so bloody good to have my arms around you again. Now…if you could just hurry up and put your dick in my arse, that would be perfect…”
Lindsey kissed him eagerly, swallowing his cry of pleasure as he thrust inside. He stopped instantly, extremely doubtful about his ability to control himself, and nipped at Spike’s lips when the blond mewled and writhed to get him to move. “Hey! Show’ll be over if you keep doin’ that…”
Swearing a blue streak, Spike reluctantly stilled. When Lindsey did begin to fuck him, the bolt of excitement was so strong that he decided the short hiatus had totally been worth it. From the way that his body was responding to Lindsey, it was perfectly obvious to him that he’d been craving him like a smack junkie hankering after a fix. “Shi…Fuck! Christ in a cartoon, Linds, that feels amazing…”
Snorting at Spike’s interesting turn of phrase, Lindsey rocked harder inside him, pulling his legs around his waist and burying his face in his neck to nibble on his pulse point. The pickup bounced with the motion, various electronic debris rattling in a staccato rhythm against the bed, and Lindsey grabbed the metal side for extra leverage.
It was only as they were momentarily bathed in passing light and a chorus of wolf whistles and horns reached their ears that Lindsey realised that he may not have parked quite as far from the main road as he’d imagined.
“Think your band might’ve spotted us,” commented Spike with amusement, his words instantly morphing into a deep groan.
“Fuck ‘em,” smiled Lindsey, his pace not faltering; his friends knew better than to think that he could be embarrassed by something as trifling as a bit of exhibitionism. Besides, at that moment, Spike was his world and nothing else mattered.
Muscles flexing against one another, sweat rolling down their skin and pooling between their bodies, they managed to fuck both forcefully and tenderly, mouths barely leaving each other and hands clutching and caressing. Spike dug his heels into Lindsey’s ass, drawing him even further inside, and then he abruptly rolled them so that he was on top.
Gripping the tailgate, he fucked himself on Lindsey’s cock, strong, pale thighs catching the moonlight as they clenched. The metal gate clattered loudly, but the sound went unnoticed as Lindsey planted his still-booted feet on the bed of the pickup and pumped his hips up to meet Spike’s motions. Making an inarticulate sound of pleasure at the blond’s loud groan, Lindsey fisted his dick and began to strip it, faster than Spike was riding him.
And then the were kissing frantically again, Spike bucking between hand and cock, whispering against Lindsey’s lips, “Fuck, lover…Been missing you so badly…Nothin’ on earth like screwing you…Gonna make me come so hard, so soon…”
Abruptly, Lindsey sat upright, nestling Spike even more firmly into his lap; the other man gasped at the change in angle, letting Lindsey direct his movements as he slid up and down the brunet’s shaft. Lindsey mouthed over his chest, laying a little tattoo of bites, and Spike arched against him, winding fingers into his hair.
“Please, please, please, so close,” he babbled and Lindsey cursed loudly, flipping them over and slamming Spike back onto the metal floor.
With such an intoxicating display of dominance on top of the overwhelming sensations, it only took a few more powerful thrusts and they were coming together with hoarse shouts, Spike’s orgasm tripping Lindsey’s as if their bodies shared a deep physical bond.
Even as their dicks were still pumping out their release, they were holding one another’s heads in their hands, peppering soft, desperate kisses over each other’s faces and murmuring nonsense.
Spike’s cum cooled between them and they slowly became aware of the fact that the truck bed, with all its tools and crap, was really quite uncomfortable, the metal scratching their bare skin.
They really didn’t care.
“We should move, I guess,” said Lindsey softly, nudging his nose against Spike’s and brushing lips over his jaw, feather-light.
“Yeah,” agreed the other man, stroking his hair and cupping his cheek, staring up into his eyes. They looked even prettier in starlight rather than sodium. “Or we could stay like this for a minute.”
“Or we could do that,” agreed Lindsey. “Ain’t like there’s any rush, is there?”
Spike smiled, the sweet, boyish expression prompting Lindsey to run a thumb over his face. “Not anymore.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Waking up together had taken on a whole new dimension of pleasure, because they no longer had to deal with the frustration and upset of it being a finite arrangement.
Angel’s father had given Spike a week off to look for somewhere to live down south; as long as the blond was still willing to travel, then he didn’t care about the relocate. In fact, they had an ever-growing need to search out locations all over the country and he thought it would be useful to have someone he trusted based in Texas, with better access to the south and mid-west.
Since it was also obvious that keeping Spike and Angel out of each other’s way as much as possible would be a good idea, it had worked out for the best all round.
Spike and Lindsey had rediscovered the fact that they got along almost nauseatingly well without the major stress of living apart to deal with. Now that they had found a solution, everything seemed right with the world, even if they did both feel more than a bit dense for not thinking of it sooner.
“We were so damned stupid. I still can’t quite believe it…”
“Yeah, I know. Didn’t help that Angel was sticking his oar in at every opportunity, putting doubts in our head when we were drunk or vulnerable or both.”
“Fucker. He was definitely playin’ dirty.”
Spike raised an eyebrow at Lindsey, who was scowling. Rolling on top of his body, rubbing their naked skin together, he kissed his pouting mouth and said, “And you play fair, do you? You know full well that I can’t resist you with a guitar, and to sing to me? In that bloody incredible voice of yours? I was powerless.”
“Oh, I wasn’t playin’ fair? And how exactly was I supposed to stand up to the romantic, dramatic flying from one end of the country to the other to declare undying love, huh? Practically fuckin’ swooned…”
Spike laughed, his chest vibrating against Lindsey’s, and they bumped their noses together. “Okay, fine. Everyone was playing dirty. Oh…speaking of your song….”
“Yeah?”
“Ain’t touched a bottle in so long?” He looked at him sceptically.
“What? It’s called artistic license! The rest of it was true,” insisted Lindsey defensively, chuckling a little.
Spike ran his thumb over Lindsey’s full lips, smiling indulgently. “Guess wot?”
“What?”
“Realtor called. We have an appointment tomorrow afternoon.”
Lindsey grinned and slipped his arms around Spike, nestling him even more tightly against his chest for an excited hug that rapidly turned amorous. As they kissed hungrily, hands roaming, Lindsey opened his legs and Spike slipped between them.
“Wanna get fucked, do you?” asked the blond, his voice lust-roughened, as he rocked his hips to grind their erections together.
“Well, since you’re there and all…Might as well make use of you,” winked Lindsey, yelling aloud playfully as Spike growled against his neck and nipped at him.
“No, pet…I’m gonna make use of you,” he disagreed, biting his way down the bronzed chest and flicking his tongue at hard nipples as he reached up to pin Lindsey’s arms by his head.
Clearly, the porch swing incident had taught them nothing, because ten minutes later the sharp creaking sound issuing from the bed in warning was completely ignored. Of course, it wasn’t as if it was the only noise that the bed was making as its wooden frame smacked repeatedly against the wall.
“We should…look for…a detached…place,” panted Lindsey in between hard thrusts, cursing and arching up against Spike’s body. Fortunately, his current abode was a stand-alone, because every house in town just was, but they’d had plenty of complaints from Spike’s neighbours and even a rather embarrassing cop-calling incident. The irony of answering the door to the law while Spike was handcuffed to the bed had not been lost on Lindsey.
Spike nodded his agreement, kissing him hard as their sweat-slick skin slapped together, the sound echoing around the room and further confusing the groans of protest from the bed.
It was their drive to completion that finally proved too much for the slightly rickety frame and their shouts of ecstasy turned into surprise as the left hand side of the bed collapsed mid-orgasm to pitch them onto the floor.
As they lay in a rumpled, sheet-tangled heap, Spike still buried inside Lindsey, they blinked at one another in climax-fogged disbelief.
“Oops.”
“Well there goes my fuckin’ deposit…”
“Wot are you gonna put on the form under ‘Nature of damage’?”
Lindsey thought about it for a moment. “Think they’ll find it funny if I write, ‘Fuck-broke’?”
Spike giggled. “Prob’ly not.”
“Good job we’re gettin’ a new place; this one’s fallin’ apart.”
“Not to worry, luv. I’m sure we can wreck the new one within a couple of weeks as well. Looking forward to christening all those rooms…”
Sharing a lascivious smile, they kissed deeply, running their hands through one another’s hair and licking broad sweeps inside willing mouths. Lindsey laid little kisses over Spike’s cheek and jaw, speaking with his lips still pressed to the warm, stubbled skin. “Guess we’d better move.”
“Nah, I’m comfy here,” replied Spike, rolling his hips to remind Lindsey that his dick was still inside…and rapidly achieving full hardness again. The brunet gasped and bucked against him, yet managed a disbelieving eyebrow raise.
“You’re comfy?” The floor was hard beneath them, their legs sprawled over the listing mattress and bed covers wrapped restrictingly in some fairly strange places.
Spike drew back slightly and looked into his eyes, smiling at that familiar mixture of love and lust and amusement that he saw reflected. “Perfectly.”
Although Lindsey flushed with pleasure and he brushed his mouth against Spike’s kiss-swollen lips, he couldn’t resist murmuring, “Pouf.”
“Oi! That’s my line…”
“Yeah, guess we really should stop using each other’s insults…”
“Oh, I don’t know,” smirked Spike, remembering Angel’s face. “Can be fun sometimes.”
Lindsey grinned as he began to rock slowly. “You’re evil.”
“Yeah, and you’re stuck with me now,” he teased, his breath catching slightly.
“I know,” Lindsey replied huskily, moving a little faster and kissing Spike’s jaw. “Best feelin’ in the world.”
“Oh really? ‘Cause I think I can make you feel even better…”
“Sounds like a promise. Wanna see what else we can break?”
“You know it, cowboy,” smiled Spike, sealing his promise with a kiss.
THE END.
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