Thrashed

He’d done it again. The mattress was bare beneath him, the bottom sheets tangled around his ankles. Another bloody wet dream. Spike sighed, something several people had rarely been given the privilege of seeing. After noticing the semen stain on the cream patterned mattress, his pot of frustration boiled right the heck over the top and bubbled down the steel pit of his control. He stood, deathly still in the middle of his bedroom and just opened his mouth and silently screamed his frustration. His hands crept up from their tight fists held against his thighs to pull at his hair as his knees buckled in pent-up agony. Oh how he wished he was someone else.

After a self-deprecating mumble-fest during the quick run into the bathroom to wet a hand towel and the furious rubbing of the spunk into his bed, Spike let out the most woeful cry ever heard, causing his brother to come running into his bedroom.

“What’s wrong?” His soulful blue eyes were coated in concern, darting around the room to find the cause of Spike’s distress. He had no idea he was the very cause that had Spike writhing and thrashing during the night.

“Nothing Will. Had some disturbing dreams.” Disturbing indeed. His twin had invaded his dreams for years. Spike dealt with it by leaving the country. But William had diligently followed, tracking Spike down a year later with his pants around his ankles and his dick in a boy with Hugh Grant-ish floppy golden hair. And now Spike was perpetually exhausted from the nightly wet dreams that were oh-so-dangerous with his brother living just a wall away.

“What’s wrong, Reg?”

Spike snarled.

“Don’t call me that, Pratt.”

“Reginald. Reginald. Reginald. Will it finally get a reaction from you? What the bloody hell is wrong with you? Tell me. Please. Why? Why have you tried to escape me for the last decade?”

Spike couldn’t answer. No way was he ever telling his brother anything.

“I used to know exactly what you were thinking.” William’s small voice was so wracked with pain.

Yep, no way he was going to tell his brother what he was thinking. He’d be arrested. Or condemned. Or taken up on the offer. That was if William knew what the Wheelbarrow position was.

No, that was wishful thinking.

“It’s killing me.”

And Spike was lost. He hated, no abhorred, anyone who put that tone inside his brother’s words. That scared, revert-to-childhood, insecure tone. And now he only had himself to hate.

“It’s not you, it’s me.” Well if that didn’t sound like cliché worthy of a bloody 90s soapie. “I mean, I just have some stuff I’m trying to deal with…stuff to forget…and I just need some space to get over it.”

“You’ve had ten fucking years of space, Spike.” William spat at him. And Spike died a little inside.

He couldn’t hold it in anymore. So Spike did the only thing he was capable of doing. He ran.

****

William and Reginald Pratt were born to Rupert and Anne Pratt of the Canterbury Pratts, the ones who were responsible for the engineering of bases for the intelligence services and the royal estates. When Rupert’s male heirs declined to take over the family global engineering business and took up with actors and dancers in the once bourgeoisie region of Paris, Rupert signed a document stating the property of Pratt Industries was solely owned by Mr William and Mr Reginald Pratt, should they return, and the running of the business was handed off to his associate Mr Wyndham-Pryce. As women from across the world shed their clothes and sanded off their blisters to cancan in the Moulin Rouge and Spike stoutly ignored his hovering brother who had followed him to Amsterdam and back (which almost led to a telling incident of Spike’s desires), Rupert died in his sleep, knowing he was returning to his beloved Anne after many years of the planes of existence separating them.

Every person who worked for Pratt Industries was sure William would return to take up the business. The twins’ Oxford business degrees had many convinced the quieter of the two would utilise his education and return as their ill father had bid. But Spike surprised Wesley as he walked through the mahogany door of his office in the one of the newest sky risers in London and asked, “So, what can I do?”

“Regie?”

Spike was dressed as a CEO was meant to dress, splendid in his pinstripe attire and polished leather loafers that clicked against the parquetry.

“Please, Wes, you know to call me Spike.”

Wesley stood and shuffled awkwardly over to his peroxided cousin, gently pushing him in the direction of Wesley’s fabulous office chair.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…I wasn’t expecting you.”

Spike sat and leant back on his enjoined hands behind his head and watched as his tweeded cousin perched on the edge of the matching leather lounge.

“So, out with it Wes. How’s good old pops and what does he want me to do with the company?”

Wesley’s mouth gaped open.

“I thought you knew. That’s why you’re here, surely? No? Oh bloody hell. Spike…Rupert died.”

And if Spike hadn’t been running from his brother he would have been pleased when Will barrelled through the doors in his day old crumbled shirt and his ruffled golden curls as he tried to hastily remove his hands from his jean pockets.

“Wesley, have you seen Spike?” He called as he toppled through the door to see Spike behind Wesley’s desk, as frozen and cold as Walt Disney.

“Spike…please Spike, what’s wrong? Snap out of it. Spike. REGINALD.”

“I told you not to call me that.” The growl rumbled from the static body. “Dad’s dead, Will. We’re orphans.”

William dropped to the floor. His legs just couldn’t hold him. He’d been running three days, trying to locate Spike and follow him to wherever his brother had disappeared to now. The weekend had caught up to his body and without a sob William crumpled to the ground.

Finally breaking free from the hold Wesley’s news had caused, Spike watched as his twin died. Death via broken heart. A piece had died when their mother had passed on, another piece now their father had too and the last big chunk of William’s heart, that had been diseased from Spike’s distance poison, finally withered.

Wesley crept out of the door when Spike stood and knelt beside Will. He took him in his arms and together, identical tears tracked down their identical faces. Shoulders heaved and wracked in guilt and sorrow. Noses brushed together in desperate touch. And lips settled upon another in the last vestige of hope and love the grown men had held in their hearts. They held out their hearts in their hands and slowly, fingers entangled as the tears continued to stream. Things would be different forever more.

****

Almost six months later and their desperate kissing in the face of death had not been spoken of once. A silent agreement had been made and it had tested Spike’s fragile control. The twins shared everything. They shared the power of running their family’s company. They shared their newspaper over breakfast. They share an office. They share a gorgeous blonde haired, green eyed American secretary. And they shared a bed.

The bed had double the amount of blankets normally needed. It was large. Stately. Taking up the entire room. And absolutely needed. The world felt too lonely, too broken and too jaded without one another. Especially within the bed. If Spike so much as drove out of London, Will’s devastating panic attacks started.

The pills were carried on Will’s person 24/7. They shared a psychiatrist, but not the same appointment.

“Spike, a Mr McDonald is here to see you.”

They even shared sexual frustration.

“Send him in Buffy.”

Spike glanced at his brother as Will’s ex-boyfriend strode through the door. William looked up to see a scowl on Spike’s face then turned his head to find the cause. The dangerous panic shook through his bones and twisted around his ligaments. The shakes that started in his nervous system began to roll down his arms and along his palm to cause his pen to drop into his coffee mug.

“Lindsey…what…um…how…why are you…what are you doing here?”

“Can’t I come and see an ex?”

“No.” Meeped William and Spike shot out of his chair to bring him his glass of water.

“Take the pills Will. Calm down.” He turned on Lindsey. “What do you want? If you don’t say it in five words or less you’re getting kicked out of this building.”

“I want a job…bitch.”

Spike made sure his brother was breathing deeply and settling his panicked body on the couch before severely beating the annoying lawyer out his office.

“Don’t show your unfaithful face around here again you bloody mother-fucking Texan ass-wipe.”

Spike sent the thrashed Lindsey out of the building with a swift boot up the arse before returning to his office.

“Thank you.” William whispered as Spike cradled his very marginally younger brother in the crooks of his arms. Emotion rollicked around their bodies. Want and heat and lust and desire and pain and sorrow and loneliness and horror and anger ricocheted between the clothed hard planes of smooth white skin and sunk deep within their bowels.

Spike cracked.

His head bowed and his lips found William’s for the second time. And it felt right. He felt right. He felt right with the world. And with his family. And his tongue felt right passing over William’s lower lip asking to open in supplication for a place to spill his love. He was allowed inside and suddenly Spike was found.

And their office door opened.

****

Buffy had never seen two men kissing in real life. Sure, porn and Queer as Folk had educated her to an extent, but nothing was as sad and panty-dropping as watching her bosses devour each other’s equally perfect face.

She would have backed out quietly if she hadn’t been so entranced and forgotten they had a pesky coffee table in the centre of the room.

“Ow! Sweet muppety Jesus that hurt.”

Red faced horrified twins stared at her with widened lust-shot eyes as they shot out of each others arms.

For two minutes they stumbled over words and each other while trying to rise from the couch and reassure Buffy she hadn’t seen anything.

With a distinctive red tint on her cheeks, with naught a word spoken, Buffy reached behind her and unclipped her bra.

The twins’ eyes widened just that little bit more as their normally demure but perky secretary shed her blouse.

“Oh God, Buffy what are you doing?”

She stalked closer, her pencil skirt zip inching down as her other hand traced the curves of her luscious tits.

“Shut up William, let the woman continue.”

“She just walked in on us kissing Reginald.” William whisper-shouted.

Spike instantly sobered.

Buffy hungrily gazed at the ruffled boys in front of her and stepped forward, eager for some office sex.

“Oh no. This isn’t what it looked like Buffy. We don’t…”

“Do that kind of stuff. We were just…” Buffy slid her hand along William’s quivering arm.

“Reaffirming our connection. We had an…” She leaned in close to peck Spike on the lips but…

“Incident with Will’s ex.” He stopped her with a hand, holding her a body length away.

“Oh.” A wave of red swept over Buffy’s cheeks and she hurriedly donned her blouse clumsily. Trying to run out your bosses’ office in a skirt slipping off your hips and no bra underneath your white blouse proved too difficult for Buffy. Stumbling on her skirt in her stilettos, she slammed her exposed thigh right back into the pesky coffee table and then crumpled.

The embarrassed twins forgot their own dilemmas to tend to the sobbing half naked blonde.

“Oh, love, what’s got you in such a dither?” Spike asked as he crouched beside Buffy and brushed her hair off her face.

“I,” hic “just thought it was another dream.” Sob “I mean…it was just,” hic “Automatic. Like my brain had been preparing and suddenly…,” big long bawl “I wished it into being.” Her shoulders shook and her arms thrashed. Spike failed in holding her down so William pinned her arms until her crying subsided.

The twins exchanged a glance over her head, and as he tightly held her hands that grasped at his dress shirt in complete desperation William said, “Why don’t we take you out to lunch? Go and get yourself cleaned up and we’ll be waiting in here.”

She hiccuped as she asked, “But who will look after the phones?”

The twins’ eerie double chuckle echoed as William shooed her out of the door.

“What an interesting day.”

“How so?” William smirked as Spike settled himself into his leather chair.

“Your disgusting weasel of an ex demanding a job before insulting me, our earth-shaking kiss and then our secretary who has been having such vivid sex dreams involving the both of us that she automatically acted on her desire with such abandon only to be rejected by both of us even though our hard ons are so high we’d give the Eiffel Tower a run for it’s money would definitely constitute an interesting day.”

“Earth shattering?”

Spike looked away. He couldn’t run anymore. But he couldn’t answer. He would never be able to answer the questions that soaked his brother’s eyes.

****

Lunch was suitably awkward until Spike flat out said, “Nothin’ is going to happen. Let’s just take some mental cold showers and pretend our Royal Highness is walking nekid down the street, ‘kay?”

Buffy giggled and tried to fix her bra discreetly but William caught her eye and only made her giggle more.

“What?”

Their giggles would have been infectious if Spike wasn’t so anxious to know what was so funny.

“What? Come on…tell me. Why you laughing? Fine, ‘ll just pout as I head off to the loo.”

William cackled and Buffy grasped his arm as she desperately tried to still her fast beating heart and abate her laughter.

Buffy caught William’s longing look at Spike’s retreating behind and dug her nails further into his tender arm.

“Ow! Buffy!”

“You’re in love with him.”

He ignored her statement and looked around the restaurant until those deadly fingernails hit a nerve.

“Buffy! Bloody fuck, ducks.”

“Say it. You’ll feel better once the words are said.”

He narrowed his sceptical eyes at her and she insistently held his forearm tighter.

“Fine. I mean. It’s not fine. It’s wrong. What you saw today, it’s only happened once before. Only when we’re so bereft of hope… Buffy, I’ve always been…I mean…I’m in love with Spike and I swear he knows. It’s why he was so distant for all those years. He knew. And I just followed him like a silly little duckling.”

The dry crying slightly shook his small frame until a familiar hand gently laid possessively on the back of his neck.

“It’s okay, Will.”

William screwed his eyes shut and stubbornly shook his head. Spike crouched down to try to get his brother to look him in the eye.

“It really is okay William.” Spike took a deep breath. “Because…well because I do too. Me too. Forever. It’s why I always ran. Thought you’d throw me into prison. Or tell Dad.” Spike wiped his weeping eyes and laughed at the look of absolute wonder in those shining familiar blues. “Bloody hell, we’re being right prats today.”

Buffy giggled at her men. Because they were, as soon as she shed her bra earlier that day their repressed desires had been broken into and began to slowly drip out of the cracks in their hardened walls.

“Why don’t we eat our food before it completely freezes?”

****

Buffy watched as William worshipped Spike’s clavicle, his tongue tracing every muscle and connecting the small dots of infrequent freckles. Her hand hovered above her sex. She wanted to touch herself but such a heavy blanket of emotion had descended upon the room she couldn’t bare to take a little bit of self pleasure when the twins were so clearly making love on their shared bed.

Spike’s head began thrashing as William’s pumping hips produced the sweet friction the men needed to spill together for the first time. As their writhing slowed to a stop, William and Spike remembered that they weren’t the only ones in their room.

Twin looks of devastating desire hit Buffy in her chest; dead centre in the hollow of her rib cage. It diffused out along nerve endings and blood vessels until her pussy was leaking sugar water.

Prowling and staggering towards her with lust infused in every pore of their bodies, William and Spike reached the blonde bint on their armchair and each grabbed one of her hands.

“Don’t panic, love. We won’t do anything you don’t want to.”

But the twins had misinterpreted her anxiety.

“There’s nothing I don’t want to do. I’ve been dreaming about this, remember.”

Buffy hands were shaking anxiously because she’d never been so aroused in her life. And she just wanted to be good for her twins.

“Hey, will I get a raise?”

Spike chuckled and pressed his raise into her hip.

And the time for nervous conversation was over. Spike and William gently kissed before lifting Buffy up and sliding her down onto William. Spike helped keep them upright, bracing William with his muscled arms as Will dropped Buffy back down onto his prick.

Spike backed the entangled pair up onto the bed, making sure no limbs were crushed. Buffy took over, teasing with her fingers and whispering in Will’s ear as her sensitive skin sizzled when his thickness pressed up into her.

Spike’s fingers began their journey at her shoulders, kneading and rolling her skin, pressing into her muscles until the tense knots of anxiety slipped out of her body with each pant.

Will arched up into her when her attention wandered and then she couldn’t breathe. She lost the ability for a few seconds, struggling to remember how as he thrust beneath her. He leant up to take her left breast in his mouth as one hand held him up and the other joined his brother’s on her right hip. Their overlapping hands squeezed her soft skin and Spike slipped his lubed finger into her unoccupied hole.

“Oh…Spike.” His languorous thrusts built the forest blaze that simmered beneath the leaf litter of her abdomen. Her lower regions hummed as Spike moved. Buffy flexed over the still prick inside of her, an ever present presence that was so stoic in its stillness that Will’s brow had furrowed in an attempt of control.

It broke as Buffy came with the insistent scissoring of Spike’s fingers. Will roared, fluids drenching his cock and her muscles working his now thrusting member as if her sexual organs were the thumping, pulsing wave of ravers.

Spike pushed all the way in and Buffy yelped in pain. Caring hands lovingly soothed her wrung out limbs and Spike desperately fought to stay still inside her. He could feel his brother through the tiny bit of skin, their bodies so close to one another, joined together through a tiny chit who had begun to squirm.

The tentative thrusts began as carefully as they could in care for Buffy’s consciousness. Spike plunged forward and Buffy gasped as Will’s dick was pushed that little inch higher. With Will's thrust, Spike receded and their seesawing continued until their nerves could handle no more. Overwhelmed with emotion and pleasure, Buffy came apart again, clenching her loves to her as close as humans could be held. Tears silently dripped from her eyes.

The twins’ tandem release inside her came shortly after and their bodies fell comfortably back onto the bed, Spike somehow landing between Buffy and Will.

Their thrashing and flailing limbs had tangled the sheets to show the mattress protector. Spike tried to look back on the time where he’d been so angry when he’d come all over his bed but it didn’t exist. For that moment in time, nothing but the now could permeate Spike’s brain. Spike sat up abruptly. It was as if he has just been born. He was born again.

His giggles roused his sleepy twin and their blonde lover who pushed him back down onto the bed and covered his body with theirs. He was exactly where he was meant to be. He’d found his place in life and he was never going to leave.

The End