Steam
"Damn it, Spike! Back off will you?"
Spike chuckled happily and slipped away through the door. It was a small victory but, right now, he'd take what he could get. Angel might try to pull the long-suffering, high road taker, but Spike never did anyway so why start now? And if that bogtrotter thought he was going to drag his staff down the same holy road, Spike was ready for him. The doe-eyed brain was all sympathy the moment he showed up -- well once she got past the bloody past -- Greensleeves had a cheerful word every time he spun around and Watcher junior seemed just as accusatory towards Angel as Spike felt. Perfect.
Charles Gunn though? He might've seemed all designer suits and metrosexual manicures, but Spike heard him at night. He was thug of the avenging variety or Spike would eat... Hell, he'd eat anything right now, even a damned sewer rat... Gunn might've done the same. It sprawled over everything Gunn did.
Super Lawyer's hands had calluses you didn't get in an Ivy League law school. His walk broke out into a menacing swagger when he knew he'd won a case. His grin got feral and his eyes burned when he sensed a weakness during depositions. His voice snapped with street patter when the clock struck midnight. God, Spike loved that part the most.
Gunn growled low and liquid smoke dripped on every syllable that past his lips. His laugh was a grumbling chuckle and Spike was dying to know who was on the other end of that untraceable cellphone
Gunn used every other night. Sometimes it sounded like Gunn was giving orders; sometimes it was an insult exchanged good time. It was a mystery wrapped around a tall, dark, and tasty package.
Spike had seen the package part too, by accident the first time, wandering absently through the walls and into the executive bathroom. Very tasty indeed.
Now that Angel had that Eve twat coming in for a night meeting -- would they just shag already? -- it was time to see his delicious conundrum.
Spike grinned when he saw the blinds drawn over the thick glass of the office wall. That might stop other eyes but he flowed through them as easily as he did everything else these days. The office itself was dim, lit only by the desk lamp, and the big leather chair's back was to the office.
Gunn was there though. Spike could hear him breathing, heavy, and quiet. There was the faintest rustle of cloth and he was about to say something when it hit him what that sound was. He froze, listening as hard as he could, somewhat annoyed at himself for not being able to move. Gunn was masturbating right over there and he could not force himself to float over and see? He watched the man piss for fuck's sake!
The shushing sound got faster and Spike swore internally. He was getting hard. What exactly was he supposed to do with an ethereal erection, leave an ectoplasmic glob of spunk somewhere? No thank you, mate. Fred would want to analyze it and he did not want that embarrassment just yet.
Gunn gave a chest-rumbling groan just as Spike made up his mind to move, the chair squeaking as it shuddered. The big man had come and Spike had missed it.
"Aw... damn it."
"Spike?"
Plastering a smirk on his face, Spike finally moved towards the desk. "Havin' a bit of self-loving naughty before goin' home were we?"
Gunn sighed, "Letting of steam."
"Letting off something else," Spike leered as he finally got a look.
Gunn had zipped up his trousers and was dumping the wad of tissues in the trash as he turned the chair halfway around. "Yes. What's your point? You can't tell me you don't masturbate."
"Never said that did I? Just don't do it at the office. Very internet porn of you," Spike waggled his eyebrows and perched carefully on the edge of the desk, thrilled when he didn't sink.
"Spike, you don't have an office," Gunn said, "And you would."
"Well... yeah," Spike demurred. "I'd do more than that. Now, tell me something."
Gunn's annoyance was palpable. "What?"
"Why aren't you embarrassed about getting caught?"
The question caught Gunn by surprised and it took him a moment to shift from aggravated to truthful. "One, because it's just you..."
"Just me? Oh well pardon..."
"Spike? Shut up. Two because it's not like I was doing anything to anybody, and three," Gunn shrugged, "You watch me pee, which I find sick and twisted by the way, so why do I care if you caught me snapping one off in the locked privacy of my own office."
Spike's brow knit. It still didn't fit the profile he'd built up about Charles Gunn lawyer at all. He was young, overly professional most times... except in here, at night. "All right, so you do this every night?"
"Nah, just when I feel like it," Gunn leaned back in his chair, "which is about two nights a week."
"You only whack off twice a week?" Spike didn't bother to hide in incredulousness.
"I didn't say that. I said in here," he pointed at the chair, "twice a week."
There had to be a catch, Spike thought. Gunn was being far too open and honest about this. By all rights, he should've at least been shouting at Spike about privacy and keeping his mouth shut. He shouldn't be giving out his masturbatory schedule.
"Is this the point I start looking for Allen Funt?" Spike asked, starting to feel annoyed himself. He was the one who put people off balance, not the other way around.
Gunn laughed, which made Spike scowl. "No. No hidden cameras, no joke," he leaned forward and planted his elbows on the desk as he continued. "Look, you're a guy, you insinuated you masturbate, and you could shout it from the top of Harmony's desk what I was doing but people would just think you were being, well you."
"On to me are you?" Spike couldn't help the little smile at Gunn giving his own shit back.
"Only a little. I still can't stand you watching me pee," one finger waved under Spike's nose. "Cut that shit out."
"Aw. Poor babe, make you nervous? Dunno why. You've got nothin' to be ashamed of," Spike tsked.
"I know that. It makes you come off like a garden variety pervert though. The kind of guy who lurks around bus station bathrooms," Gunn made a face. "I get enough of that crap in court."
"Okay, okay no more watching not-so Wee Willie Winkie in the pisser," Spike shrugged, standing. He'd decide later if he'd keep that promise.
"Seriously."
"...Yeah." Spike started to walk away.
"Good, because I'd hate to have one of the warlocks put up a ghost barrier in my office," Gunn said, shuffling papers on his desk.
"Yeah, yeah I got it,"
"Spike?"
"What?" Spike sighed.
"I'll probably be letting off steam tomorrow night."
Spike spun so fast he actually felt like he got caught up in the blinds and fell through the floor.