A Sire, a Childe and a Consort
The dark-haired vampire, who was Angel and not Spike pre the dye job because even though Spike was blonde he was formerly brunette or maybe even auburn haired depending on the lighting, gazed with his brown eyes into Spike's dazzling blue eyes. As far as Angel knew, Spike didn't wear coloured contact lenses.
'Oh, Spike, you are my Most Favoured Childe of all!'
Spike tipped his head to the side, a dubious look on his face. 'Riiight, more favoured than Dru then, since you said that nobody got you like she did? And you spent longer with her than you did with me. Calling her Princess and...'
'Hush now, Spike,' Angel affectionately said as he placed a silencing finger over the erratically haired vampire's mouth, 'I favour you even more than Dru. You are, The Most Favoured!'
'Well then, that's right nice. Doesn't necessarily mean anything though, does it. I mean you were Darla's favourite and you offed her. So really…'
'Shhhh, now boyo,' Angel said even more affectionately, his hand clamping down over the bleached haired, reanimated corpse's mouth. 'I've loved you my entire life since my death. You were the one that Angelus could love, when he could love no other.'
'So when you were bullying me and using Dru against me and basically making my life a misery, that was you loving me? How about we just bypass the love bit and you just like me lots instead then, mate? Sounds like it would go a lot easier on me.'
'Now, now my sweet one, lets not talk any longer', Angel said with loving tenderness as he knocked Spike unconscious. But he could not help himself and pried Spike's lifeless eyelid open to gaze once more at his blue, blue eye. It was just such a pretty colour to look at, Angel sighed.
Angel then realized that hitting Spike had stirred the Popsicle stick that lay in his pants into lusty readiness and he gazed with unbridled desire at the marble whiteness of His Most Favoured Child In The World's body. His bosom heaved in passionate ecstasy as he realised that there would be much Cold Dead Seed tonight. Oh, yes, there would be!
Xander suddenly burst into the room, his Consort senses allowing him to be aware of the possibility of a Cold Dead Seed fix. The brown-eyed man (Xander, not Angel) was alas, now a Cold Dead Seed junkie and unless his bowels were washed thoroughly once a night with glutinous frozen Vampire spunk he was left a very unhappy carpenter indeed.
The three men instantly fell into bed together, Angel dragging along Spike's unconscious carcass. They rolled together in a mass of dead limbs and sweaty, sweaty whelp flesh, moaning into one another's mouths and having simultaneous orgasms at a drop of a hat. Even Spike, and he was still out cold.
Angel reared up and sunk his fangs into Xander and Spike, screaming 'Mine!' at the top of his lungs as part of the Very Special Claiming Ritual. Xander and Spike now belonged to him, much like the fiscus plant that sat on his bedside cabinet, and Angel would own and love them forever and ever. Or until things got tough and he took off.
Come to think of it, that plant really did need watering.