Archived: Shara's place: <http://www.shara-nesu.supanet.com/index.html>
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone, it all belongs to Joss etc. *sigh*
Spoilers: BtVS 2: School Hard. Set in Season 5 - few Spoilers though after Destiny.
Category/Pairings: Angel/Spike (off course)
Rating: NC17 Warning: Graphic M/M Sex. Vampire stuff (bondage & blood sport included)
Distribution: Want, Have, Take.
Summary: Obsession controlled Angelus’ life and now it controls Angel. For centuries, he wanted to own and fantasized about one person - Spike. Angel never believed that he would ever possess Spike, but one day, after an accident while fighting some demons, Spike loses his memory. Will Angel tell the truth to Spike? Or will he lie?
Notes: Many, many thanks to my Beta - Helen *waves* And also to the wonderful Deb, who gave & inspired me with this plot bunny. *kiss*
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The Beast - The Past.
Angel’s POV:
In the beginning...isn’t that how all stories start? In the beginning, or once upon a time, but then that would imply a fairy tale with a happy ending, so no, I’ll start with in the beginning. In the beginning there was a vampire named Angelus. He was a vampire who was feared the world over and not just by humans. Vampires feared Angelus. He was a monster in the purest sense of the word. Beautiful in face and body, but with a demon of pure evil within his heart and mind. Then one day a witch with the need for revenge cast on that cruel vampire the most damning of spells. She gave him a soul.
That’s the way it’s told, the story of Angelus. He was evil; he killed a fair, but dumb gypsy girl and was cursed with a soul. That wasn’t the whole truth though. So much is missing from that tale. The true reasons behind Angelus’ fall. Behind the creation of Angel and his need to run away from home and family. Why he came to America in the first place. Why he hid from the one person in the world whom Angelus loved.
Yes, believe it or not, Angelus loved. But that love was an unrequited one. The beholder of his affections didn’t return his desire or love. No, the one Angelus loved despised him, and for that Angelus couldn’t allow the world to be unaffected by his anger. Angelus couldn’t have his beloved and therefore everyone suffered. It was only right. Only fitting in Angelus view. You see he was obsessed. Totally and completely fixated by one fair boy. A boy named William.
Angelus had found the young poet William long before Drusilla ever set her eyes on him. Behind the back of both his women, Angelus would leave their home at dusk and keep to the shadows of a smoked filled London just to see his beloved. It started with following the young man. Following and staring at everything young William did. How he spoke. How he moved. How he did his hair. How his sweet cologne made Angelus heart swoon...well, it would if he had one. Soon it became utterly necessary for Angelus to see the boy every day. Not one day could go by without Angelus spying on William. Until that one fateful day when he didn‘t.
He’d drunk a little too much. Feasted on a little too much fine blood and for the first time he didn’t notice William walking down the street towards him. He didn’t see with his blurred vision the boy who bumped into him. He was laughing and dancing in the streets with Darla as Drusilla went on the hunt. He wasn’t there to find his pretty daughter sucking the fresh blood of his beloved William to the last drop and then replacing it with her own. It wasn’t until the next night, when the boy walked into Angelus‘ lair and asked ‘how it was going?’ did Angelus realise what had happened.
The sight of Drusilla and her young childe sent Angelus into a rage. A rage that would last another twenty years until the day he got his soul. A rage that was fuelled and heightened by the very fact that Angelus loved the boy and discovered that William despised him. To William, Angelus was nothing but an overbearing, belittling, and intolerant vampire. To William, Angelus was nothing but a source of information, a teacher when he needed it, an escape plan when they were in trouble. In fact, William never looked upon Angelus with a hint of desire or friendship. A fact that Angelus felt and saw in William’s face *every* single day.
Angelus became obsessed with his fascination of Spike, once known as William the Bloody. He was obsessed with his beauty. Fascinated by his lust for life. Drawn to his complete unwillingness to give in to anything or anyone. Angelus was in love with Spike. In love, but he could never tell his beloved. Maybe if Angelus hadn’t been the great master vampire he was, maybe then he could have told sweet William how he felt. But he never did. Angelus refused to be controlled by anyone. And absolutely refused to be influenced by love. No one told Angelus what to do. No one, not even Darla. Angelus would never give that power of control to his beloved and so he never told the sweet faced boy of his feelings.
In the fullness of time, love turned to rage. A rage that the world trembled at. Not only did Angelus blame the world for his inability to confess his love - he also blamed William. William who under the cruel influence of his grand-sire turned himself into the vicious Spike. Spike who suffered at the hands of Angelus just because that love was denied. Angelus beat him, tried to break him, wanted to smash his bones into a million loveless pieces. He’d beat the young vampire almost to the point of death just to watch the pretty red blood stain his face. Watch and wish that he could lean over Spike and lick that blood away. That he could wash away all the hurt and blood from Spike’s body, to give comfort and love...but Angelus could never show those things. Never. Again and again Angelus would try and break Spike; again and again he failed. Spike grew stronger, but as he did, Angelus‘ obsession with him grew too.
Then came the gypsy’s devastating curse. Angelus killed a pretty gypsy girl. Why? Well, the gypsy girl had looked at his beloved and smiled. There was no other reason why Angelus tortured and killed her. It was just that one - she had looked at Spike and smiled. It had driven Angelus into a rage, a rage that he’d pay a terrible price for, and so he was cursed with a soul. Angelus became Angel - me.
I should say that is the end of Angelus’ story. Yet, I cannot. For the obsession with my beautiful Spike continued. It didn’t end with me becoming Angel. It only grew. For where Angelus had seen a vampire childe to be proud of for his viciousness - Angel - me - could only see a vampire who still held a touch of humanity in him. Yet, even when I returned to Darla and tried to fit into my family again, I still couldn’t reach him. Spike was beyond my touch. Spike became a Slayer killer and I believed that his humanity had died within him. It was with complete grief that I ran from my vampire family. Grief that Spike would never be mine. Even with a soul I couldn‘t confess my love. I believed that Spike was now fully demon and couldn’t ever love me. So I ran and ran until I came to the USA, and here I lived with my misery. Far from Spike, never to see him again and to exist for eternity without my beloved one.
Years past, decades even and still I never saw his pale face. I found comfort in the arms of another. A girl, a slayer named Buffy. She, like he had this great beauty and lust for life. She reminded me of my Spike so much that I thought I could live without him. That I could forget his face and never think about my beloved William again. But the fates weren’t that kind, because Spike came to Sunnydale. There, standing in the middle of a school, my arm wrapped around Xander Harris‘ throat, I faced my beloved Spike. I faced him and ran. I couldn’t confront him; I sure as hell couldn’t fight and hurt him. I lied to Xander, hell I lied to everyone about Spike. I just couldn’t share or confess my obsession with any other soul.
My Spike had changed in appearance when I met him in Sunnydale, yet underneath the cropped, bleached blond hair, the black jeans and leather duster, he was still my Spike. That bright spark in his eyes, that wonderful intelligence, was still as clear and sharp as ever. He was still the Spike I’d always loved and obsessed about. He was mine, yet he never knew it. I would watch him, like I did in London. I would follow him around on his nightly kills. Watching the way the moonlight would highlight the sharp contours of his cheekbones. Moan just from the scent of him, a scent I hadn’t smelt in almost a hundred years, and yet with the first sniff those years tumbled away and it was like I had never left him. I burned with desire at the way Spike moved, which was with restrained power and grace. He was William, but now had a hard edge to him. He’d grown into the promise he had always shown. He had become a true master vampire. A master vampire with a touch of humanity.
Then just as I got used to watching and wanting Spike from a distance, Angelus returned. Once again, Angelus‘ rage of unrequited love and need sent him tumbling over the edge of sanity into madness. Angelus wanted Spike. He wanted him with every possessive and jealous bone in his body. He wanted to own him, break him, care for him, and protect him. He wanted to breathe him in, for them to blend together and become one being. He wanted to taste every inch of Spike’s skin and absorb him into the very pores of his body. He wanted Dru dead for spending the last hundred years with Spike. Angelus wanted Spike, and yet, all Spike gave him was betrayal. Spike despised him and made sure Angelus...well me, Angel went to hell.
Again, you might think this was the end of the story but it’s not. I returned from hell, my soul restored - on the edge of insanity and incomplete. Wanting nothing more than Spike’s touch, I was forced to settle for Buffy’s. Spike was gone, far away and I thought I’d never see him again. The pain of Buffy became too much, I didn’t want her. I wanted Spike and only Spike. So I left Sunnydale and Buffy behind. Intending to bury my sorrows, I moved to LA.
Time past and Spike returned. Oh, he was a whirlwind of fury and anger. So heart-stoppingly gorgeous in his fury to kill the Slayer. I had never been so proud, and so completely jealous that his attention wasn’t on me. Later, I became jealous of Buffy. I learned he’d been chipped and controlled by the Initiative. I wanted to kill Riley Finn so much when I ran into him. To kill him for touching my Spike. Yet, I didn’t. I was Angel and Angel didn’t kill the good guys.
So once again I watched from a distance. Watching Spike survive his depression. Wanting him while he was seduced and bedded by Buffy. And finally, weeping for him as he died in the Hellmouth. My Spike was dead and there was nothing left for me to live for. Wolfram and Hart offered me a job and their company in LA, and I took it. I mean why not? Fighting good and evil meant nothing to me anymore. My shining star, my beloved Spike, was gone and the world could go to hell without him for all I cared.
Just as I believed the story to be truly over, Spike returned. Not corporeal at first, but I prayed and hoped and in time the gift of a body was given him. My Spike was home again, and for the first time I had hope that one day I could share my desire with him. For Spike was a vampire with a soul. Surely, he couldn’t refuse me now. Yet, he did. With the return of a corporeal body he found passion in the arms of Harmony, and later in the halls of an opera house we fought for the cup of truth. And truth he gave me. Truth that I was nothing to him. That he wanted a mortal body, with a mortal life to go with it more than me. I was nothing to him but an obstacle.
Nothing.
Well, fuck that.
~*~*~*~
Beauty - The Future.
Office of Angel, Wolfram & Hart LA - Monday morning:
Monday morning, another start to another long week. I still haven’t gotten over Spike beating me in the opera house. I can’t accept that he wanted a mortal life more than anything else. More than me. I was fooling myself about us becoming friends, becoming close with our forced comradeship. I had hoped that with Spike tied to me he would see my need and desire. He might be pretty, but he’s so dense sometimes. Which is why, this week, I’m going to force Spike to accept me.
He’s sitting across the room from me now, his head buried in a rock magazine. He doesn’t see me. He doesn’t notice me. I’m just Angel - someone to hate and take his anger out on. He doesn’t want to see me as I see him.
I look across the room at the black clad legs, tight T-shirt and pale skin of his arms. His blond head is hidden behind the open pages of the magazine. I wonder if he’s chewing his lip as he reads. He always did that. When Spike found something that totally grabbed his attention, everything around him would fade and he’d focus on that one thing. In this case, it’s the article he’s reading. I wish he’d focus that concentration solely on me. I moan softly at just at the thought.
Suddenly, I remember an old fantasy that rises up from the back of my mind and burns though my veins. Oh yes, this is a well-known, well-used fantasy. A fantasy I’d use when I’m alone in my bed with only my right hand to keep me company. I concentrate on that fantasy now, feeling my dick rise and harden. I see myself as Angelus, hunting, running through halls and rooms looking for something. I’m wearing close fitting trousers with a soft silk shirt. The shirt is open and my chest is bare. It flaps around my form as I run. Just like my hair, which is long and flowing. Then I spot him. William leaning back on an old fashioned wrought iron bed. I lick my lips and slowly walk towards him. He’s naked. His thin and pale form spread over a blood red coverlet. I lick my lips and he gasps.
Poor William is human. A living, breathing human. He’s so warm that sweat slicks his chest, legs and arms. Moonlight floods though a large window making his skin shine. I moan and walk towards him, finally sliding onto the bed and kneeling beside him. William moans and arches his neck. I gasp and lean over him, my hands touching hot, slick skin. So slowly, so carefully do I sink my fangs into his pulsing throat. Hot skin on my lips. Hot blood in my mouth.
I want to suck him dry. I want to steal the light from his eyes. I want to leech away all his warmth. I want to swallow his life down with long heady draughts. I want to suck him dry and have him beg for more.
Then I’d lift his body, lifting him cool and frozen into my arms. I’d tear the skin at my throat and press his mouth to the open wound. Such a sweet mouth against my skin. Soft and fading fast. I’d hold him to me, whispering that he needs to drink. To drink me down. He would start to suck, sucking the life right out of me. Light would be replaced by darkness. Human soul devoured by a demon’s evil. I’d reach down as he sucks and take his flaccid cock into my hand. I’d stroke him and he’d moan against my throat. He’d be hard in just a few strokes, his hips pushing up for more. I’d slide my finger downwards and touch his tight hole.
William would spread his legs and I’d move between them. He wouldn’t lose his hold on my throat as I open my slacks and push my hard dick inside him. He’d be so tight, wet with blood, but his legs would wrap around my hips and he’d beg for more with each thrust. I’d be taking him, fucking his sweet ass. He’d be sucking, lapping the blood from my throat. I’d start to howl and...
“Hey Angel? Dork features, you bloody listening?”
Spike’s crude words break the moment and the image of my perfect William disappears. I slowly look up from my desk, making sure my crotch is covered as I look him in the eye. Spike has this bemused look on his face as if he’s caught me doing something I shouldn’t. Which would be true in a sense.
“Well, didn’t you hear Wesley? You have a killer demon to hunt down.” Spike’s smiling even more and I realise that he’s wearing his long leather coat again, as I watch his graceful hand retrieve a cigarette from his inner pocket.
“Err...no...what did Wesley say?” When was Wesley here?
“On the intercom just now, you pushed the button to answer, Angel. You said you’d be right there.”
Damn! I can’t remember doing any of that. However, I can’t ask Spike and look foolish in front of him. So I grab at the next best thing. “We’d better go then, and you’re drive.” I throw Spike the keys, making it look like I know exactly what’s going on, even though I haven’t got a clue what Wesley said.
Spike gives me a blank look and then looks at the keys in his hand. His face slowly breaks into a smile, which leads to a wicked grin. I don’t think I should have done that.
“Okay mate, if you want me to drive!” He runs towards the open lift and jumps in.
Maybe giving him the keys to my car wasn’t such a good idea.
Two hours later:
Fighting Kleynach demons and watching Spike’s ass is not a good idea. I can’t help but be distracted by him. He fights with such flare and stamina. He’s the centre of attention in everything he does. Which also means he attracts trouble like a magnet. The demons are drawn to him and in the end I’m fighting the stragglers while he’s trying to combat the big mean ones. Suddenly however, he screams out and his body flies through the air. He lets out a high pitched scream until he hits the far wall of the Kleynach’s warehouse and crumples to the ground, unconscious. I howl in fury, the demons startled by my sudden attack and I manage to finish the pack off in moments. Think they can mess with *my* boy, do they?
When the last demon lies dead in a pool of it’s own blue blood, I run over to my injured teammate. I check over his body and at first find no damage, but then I carefully lift his head and feel his wet blood cover my hand. The crack at the back of his skull is deep and would have been fatal were he human. Even with vampiric healing skills it’s going to take a few hours for him to heal. So very slowly, I slide my arms under his slack body and lift him up, pressing his broken head to my chest. He mumbles softly but doesn’t wake.
Deeper inside the warehouse there are a few old looking mattresses and with them a source of water. An old pipe main has been broken and water rises from the concrete floor like a small fountain. I lie Spike on one of the cleaner mattress and tearing the sheet into pieces, go and dampen a cloth for him. There’s blood on his face, oozing from small scratches made by the demon’s nails. Very carefully, I start to wash his face with the cloth, cleaning away the dirt and blood from the fight. I can’t help but stroke his high cheekbones with my fingers when I’ve finished. His skin is like fine silk and so light against my darker shade of colouring. I soothe his hair back, feeling the soft strands under my fingers. His hair curls around my fingers in gentle waves as I card them through it. The gel dissipates with the use of a little more water, leaving dark blond hair to curl around his head like a halo.
I move down to his throat, and rip the shredded T-shirt at the neck, opening it wide so I can see his chest. I clean away the dirt and blood from more scratches, leaving his skin smooth and clean. I marvel at the hard flesh beneath my fingers. Hard with muscle and vampiric strength. His chest is hairless, with only a little fluff under his belly button leading to forbidden treasures below. I stroke up one side, feeling each defined rib under my touch until I finally reach his throat. Oh yes, his throat. Strong and pale. Bones standing out with blue veins visible under his pale flesh. I moan softly and press my face into the hollow at the centre. I lick it soothingly, moving a little to left and right, lapping over the collarbones and then back to the centre. He tastes so good under my tongue. Hot and spicy, while at the same time his skin is cool and clean. Slowly, I move down lapping over his diaphragm and then further down towards his soft belly. I lick over his navel, pushing my tongue in to taste his sweetness. I flick it in and out, mimicking sex and longing to really take him. Wishing it was that tiny hole further down where I could shove my tongue and dick deep inside him. I groan softly, wanting more.
“What?” A startled sound makes me look up into wide blue eyes. They are slightly out of focus and he groans loudly before closing them again. “What on earth hit me?” His head drops back onto the mattress and he moans gently as tapered fingers search around his head. He yelps as he makes contact with the healing head wound. “Who hit me?”
I quickly sit back, hoping that he hadn’t really taken in what I’d been doing. “One of the demons knocked you against the wall,” I reply in a gentle voice. I don’t want to be gentle though. I want to ravage him. Kiss him stupid. My relief that he’s awakened cannot be shown however, and I bury the feelings deep within me. “The wound was deep, but should heal soon.”
“Good,” he moans, “I feel as though a truck hit me.” His eyes remain closed. “Though, I’d wish you’d go back to licking me, it felt so good.”
Licking him! He felt it? I’m staring wide eyed at him and my mouth opens uselessly. My lips move to form words but I don’t say anything.
“Maybe you’d just hold me?” Spike whispers.
I don’t know why, but I crawl onto the mattress beside Spike and take him into my arms. He sighs softly, pressing his head into the crook of my shoulder.
“Wake me when the man with the jackhammer has gone,” he mumbles into my neck and falls asleep.
For a long time I just lie there with Spike’s body curled with mine. His slim form fitting into my chest, with one leg unconsciously moving upwards to rest between my own. I revel in the touch. The feel of him touching me. Resting against me. Pressing his body to mine. I wish with every inch of my being that we were naked, for then it would be his pure pale flesh that would be pressed to mine. I sigh, trying to gain control of my desire and just hold him. My body is hard and wanting. My solid cock straining in my pants - wishing to press against the one being I desire above all others. I want him. Even in his weakened state I want to fuck him.
I groan, closing my eyes, knowing I can’t give in to this desire, and I try to sleep.
Night time:
A whole day has come and gone, and I’ve never moved from Spike’s side. Sleep came strangely easier to me with Spike pressed against me. A desired body crushed up to mine. The hollow of his back under my hand. The thin, shapely leg pressed between my heavier ones. The mouth that breathes cool air onto the flesh of my throat making me shiver deliciously. I never knew that. I never knew that even in sleep Spike still breathes. I slowly awaken, taking in the sensation of his real body (and not his fantasy one) touching mine. It is a thousand times better than anything my imagination could have thought of. He has weight, and touch, and smell. I lick my tongue over his flesh - he has taste too.
I open my eyes for the first time and I look up to soft, blue ones. Spike is awake and watching me. A delightful shiver passes through my body and I cling tighter to his waist.
“You’re really...pretty when you sleep,” Spike murmurs, a trace of a smile touching his lips. I don’t know how many times I’ve dreamed about waking up next to Spike but none of those dreams compare to the real thing.
“So are you,” I answer back, keeping my voice calm and sleepy.
Spike smiles and a cool hand slides up my body. He rests it against my cheek and for the longest time I start to wonder what he’s doing. “I wish I could remember your name, though,” he says sadly, looking into my eyes for the first time...hell, it is the first time.
“What?” I gasp, pulling out of his tight embrace.
“I don’t know your name...but you feel familiar...” Spike sits up and his face falls. “Am I wrong? Don’t you... Aren’t we?” He waves his hand between us and I get the idea he’s trying to ask if we’re together.
Are we together? Am I with him? Is he with me? Yes, in a way we are. We work together...kind of. But I don’t think that’s what he is asking. He’s asking if we are intimate. An image of naked Spike pressed in my bed under me fills my mind and I moan softly.
“Oh yes,” I whisper. I let the image take over and before I know what I’m doing, I lean over and kiss Spike’s mouth. His lips open for me and my tongue slides in. It’s so slow and gentle, almost as if I’m moving in slow motion. I just lean over and press our lips together and he’s opening up for me. More moaning as I slip my tongue in, tasting him for the first time. The first time ever. This isn’t a dream - it’s real. So wonderfully real. I growl and kiss him harder. Passionately. Spike doesn’t stop and as my tongue writhes in his mouth, he kisses back with just the same need and pressure. I let him slide his tongue into my mouth and oh, the flavour. He tastes slightly of nicotine, but the strongest flavour is the taste of blood and orange sweets. I groan, my slacks getting tighter and tighter as I kiss the one I have desired for so long. I feel a fluttering in my belly, making me tremble all over. Finally, Spike breaks the kiss and falls back onto the bed.
“Oh yeah, we’re together,” he breathes, gently touching his bruised lips.
Some part of me knows this is wrong. It knows I should tell him the truth. But after that kiss! That kiss was the answer to my dreams. My obsession.
“Do you remember anything about us?” I ask calmly, trying desperately to push aside the need to tell the truth.
“I...err...not really,” he says after a long moment thinking. He reaches into his jacket pocket; not even saying anything about his ripped t-shirt, and pulls out a packet of cigarettes. He looks at them strangely for a moment and then shakes his head, opening the packet and taking one out. “I remember I smoke,” he comments, digging out a lighter and taking a long suck on the end of his cigarette. “I kinda remember fighting something...but that’s a little vague. I do remember waking up with you next to me...but I can’t seem to think of your name.”
“Do you know yours?” I ask, taking the cigarette from him and breathing in a lungful. I slowly release it noticing Spike staring at my lips.
“Yeah, I know my name. Everyone knows their name!” Spike gives a nervous laugh, taking the cigarette back from me. “It’s...well, it’s...” he sighs, “look I don’t friggin’ know, just tell me!”
Spike is about to fall from my lips but something stops me. What if that name brings back all his memories? What if the amnesia is only short term and it all comes back with that one memory of his name? Do I want it to all come back? Can I deal with Spike if he remembers he hates me? Can I live with that again? Can I live with myself if I don’t tell him? Tears burn my eyes as that thought burns my brain. I know that if I lose him again...I won’t want to fight anymore.
“Will,” I finally answer. “Your name is William.” And please forgive me.
“Will.” Spike repeats, rolling the name off his tongue. “Sounds okay,” he agrees, and leans back, pulling my arm under his head as a make shift pillow. The action makes my body burn to touch him. All concerns are pushed to the back of my mind and all I see is Spike. He’s all I can think about. All I care about. I lean over and gently kiss his cheek, and curl my larger body against his side.
“What I don’t get,” Spike says as he finishes his cigarette, “is how I could ever forget you? I know I’m a vampire...right.”
“Right,” I reply, leaning over and kissing his throat. Spike seems to like the contact, and he slides his free hand into my hair.
“I know I drink blood. I’ve lived for a long time...I seem to remember something burning though...” He shakes his head and I don’t answer that. I think that has to do with then he died in Sunnydale. “I have this vague memory of a house in London. But when I try to remember you and where I live now...I just come up with a blank.”
I have to think quickly. Where do I take Spike? If I go back to Wolfram and Hart, the others will tell him immediately that we’re not lovers. That we hate each other. If I take him to my apartment there’s nothing of his there and he’s sure to realise we don’t live together.
“We’re between homes,” I reply, trying to think of a place to take him...and then it comes to me. The Hyperion, Spike’s never been there. “We’re staying in an old abandoned hotel, the Hyperion.”
“Abandoned?” Spike says with distinct dislike. “You mean mucky like this place?”
“No, it’s only been abandoned for a few months. Someone I knew lived there.”
“Oh, that’s okay then. As long as we have a good bed and not a mattress on the floor.” Spike grins and jumps to his feet, only stopping a moment to grimace and touch the back of his head. “Whoa, headache.”
“You’ll have to take it easy, and I’ll get you some blood as soon as we get home.” I stand up, dusting myself down with my hands. Suddenly, there is a body in my arms and he kisses my lips.
“You still haven’t told me your name.”
“Angel,” I answer, half expecting his memory to return and the fighting to commence. Instead, Spike just smiles and reaches over to take my hand in his. I’m stiff for a moment but then he starts pulling me along out of the warehouse. Spike is touching me. Spike is holding my hand. Wanting to hold my hand. I shake myself out of my shock and tighten my fingers around his. He laughs at the touch making me smile too.
“That’s better, luv,” he purrs, “you’re even prettier when you smile.” He laughs at the look on my face and pulls me along with even more force.
“Not pretty,” I mumble.
~*~*~*~
The journey to the Hyperion was quick and without any hassles. Spike was thrilled to have the keys to my car, and I let him think that it belongs to him. It seemed to be another sure way for him to believe we’re connected. That we really do belong to each other and it’s not just in my fantasies. I give him directions to the Hyperion, and he seems to remember his way around LA pretty well. Though he does mention that there are certain new buildings in places where he remembered hotels, cinemas and shops to be.
When we arrive, Spike jumps out of the car and rummages through my trunk. He finds an old white t-shirt of mine and pulls it on, replacing his jacket after. He nervously looks around and then takes my hand again, pulling me past the Hyperion and towards a row of shops. Delicious burning starts in my groin at the touch of his soft, cool fingers. He seems to want something, but then...shit.
“We can’t hunt, Will.” I quickly remind him. I completely forgot to make sure if he knew I had a soul.
“Course we can’t luv, not with the soul and all, but I was hoping to get some animal blood at the butchers over there.” He nods over to the row of shops, and I sigh with relief. Thank you, I cry to some unknown deity, at least I won’t have to go through the whole having a soul, can’t hunt and kill conversation.
“Oh right,” I reply, “I’ve got some money, we can treat ourselves to pig or something.” Damn, but I sound like a right dork. I’m getting really nervous about what to say to Spike. Does he remember certain things? Will reminding him awake those memories and change him back into the Spike who hates me? Do I want him to remember our past, his hatred and my obsession? I need to be so careful. I have Spike here with me now, willingly here with me, and I don’t want to lose this.
“That will be great luv, this stupid chip doesn’t allow me to have the good stuff anymore either.”
The chip? For a moment I’m confused, but when Spike sticks his hand out for the money, I silently hand it over. Ahh, the chip from the Initiative that prevented him from hurting humans. Spike believes he still has a chip and not a soul? That thought makes me stop a moment. Spike thinks he’s still a demon. What if he believes he can’t love as a demon? How the hell do I tell him he has a soul without explaining his past to him and admitting we aren’t lovers? Yet, when Spike comes out of the butcher’s shop with a wide grin on his face, I know that I just can’t tell him. I won’t lose him, not now, not after all this time I’ve waited and dreamed of him.
“Hungry, luv?” Spike asks, giving me a sly grin.
“Yeah, very,” I answer, slowly catching on to what he might be implying. “And not just for blood.”
Spike’s blue eyes darken as soon as the words fall from my lips. Oh yes, he was implying something other than food hungry too. He slowly sticks out his soft pink tongue and licks those luscious lips. With that action the whole of my lower body goes hard.
“Come on then, Angel pet, I’ll race you back home.” Spike is running before he’s even finished his sentence, bounding down the street to the Hyperion and vanishing into the doors. I’m not far behind, my speed being reduced by the hardness between my legs. It’s damn difficult running with a full erection. I charge into the foyer of the Hotel and come to an abrupt standstill. Spike is standing in the middle of the foyer and looking around with eyes wide and mouth open.
“Whoa, cool place, luv. Nice.” He starts walking towards the stairs and gives me a look over his shoulder. “Well, you going to show me the way to our room?” he purrs. His voice changes so quickly, one minute filled with awe and the next a siren call of seduction. Well, actually anything that passes those sweet lips of his is seduction to me.
“Sure,” I reply just as smoothly, “you want single or sharing?”
Spike gives a quick snort of laughter and grabs my arm. “I want a bloody big double bed, luv with really good springs.”
I groan instead of answering that. I grab his hand from my arm, and instead of walking slowly, I drag him on, running up the stairs and down the corridors. Spike laughs, a high pitched joyful sound, as he follows me deeper into the hotel. I love his laugh. There is nothing hidden in it. It’s pure and unfettered. Finally, I reach door no 317 and slowly open it. Spike’s bright blue eyes sparkle with some kind of need. Dare I think that he’s yearning for me? Or is it need for blood? He smiles slowly as he realises I’m standing in the doorway, not letting him by and just staring at him.
“You going to get some glasses luv. I’m hungry, and I want to get the food out the way first.”
Oh for the love of god, YES! I can’t answer. I think my tongue has swollen with desire in my mouth. I take the brown paper bag as he shoves it at me, and let him slip by me into the main room of my old apartment. It takes me a second to move, but finally, I turn and close the door behind me and head over to the kitchenette. I quickly grab a couple of clean...ish glasses and open the Styrofoam holders of blood and pour some into each glass. I throw the rest into the refrigerator, quickly switching it on, hoping that the power hasn’t been disconnected yet. I turn back to Spike and hold out a glass for him.
He hasn’t moved from his spot in the middle of the main sitting area. He looks around, large eyes taking in every detail. No doubt he’s trying to remember this place. Us living here. Us together here. We never have, even though in my dreams - my fantasies - he’s always been here.
“Nice,” he finally admits, taking the glass from my hand. He gulps the blood back quickly and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He grins at me again. “It’s a little gloomy, just what I would expect someone with a brooding soul would pick. I guess I haven’t gotten around to spicing the place up a bit with my stuff.”
Spike seems to accept the situation with that sentence, and flings his leather jacket over the back of one of the chairs, leaving him dressed only in tight black jeans with a white t-shirt. I lick my lips, wondering what it would be like to cut that oh so tight clothing off him. The blade a little to close to the skin, a few cuts and nicks here and there, would add to the whole experience of stripping him.
“Are you going to drink your blood luv, or are you just drinking in the view?”
I nod stupidly, my mouth slightly open. I shake myself quickly out of the fantasy of cutting his clothes off and drink back my cool blood without even tasting it. Why bother tasting it? Anything will be bland compared to the taste of Spike. Oh, I want to taste him. Spike smiles again at my action, and slides into one of the chairs, one leg hanging over the arm, as he lights another cigarette. My eyes move down his relaxed form and fixate on his open crotch. What I wouldn’t give to be able to see through those tight jeans. I can just make out the outline of his arousal under the tight cloth, the bulging front, where the zipper is having trouble containing his hardened flesh. The teeth of the metal zipper strain and it opens a notch as Spike shifts in the chair. I think I’m drooling and I quickly wipe my mouth again. My hand comes away with a touch of blood, and I carefully touch my bottom lip with my tongue, tasting more copper there.
“Love yer face like that, pet,” Spike breaths, a ring of smoke forming with his words.
I suddenly realise that I’ve slipped into my vampire face. Heavy ridges, yellow eyes and sharp teeth. It’s a total surprise to me; I’ve hardly ever slipped into gameface just from pure lust anymore. When you’re a young vampire, blood and sex always change your features but as you get older you have more control. It seems Spike can strip away all my control.
“I want to taste you,” I hiss between my fanged teeth. My whole body is taut with desire from just the thought of seeing his pale and firm flesh.
Spike leans back into the chair, spreading his other leg wide, and very slowly he opens the zipper to his jeans. “Come taste me, luv. Suck it all out of me.” He spreads his other leg over the chair arms with his hands on his knees and his head back on the headrest. I think I just growled. Spike chuckles at the sound and lifts his hips up in a quick thrust and then down again. My eyes are fixed on his crotch, staring at the gap in his jeans. The red head of his cock just poking out of the V-shaped opening.
This is better than any fantasy. Just watching him not even naked is turning me into pure desire. My body hard with want and need. My mind fixated only on him. My desire purely focused on wanting to taste him. I’ve never tasted him before, but I’ve fantasised about it. Would he be sweet or sour? Smooth or spicy? Would he rush down my throat like a river or would I have to work for each and every drop. I suddenly ball my hands into fists controlling the raging desire to suck his prick until it bursts against the roof of my mouth. I don’t want to ravage him...not yet, at least. I want to build up to it. Work at it slowly; savour my first time with my beloved. Then it dawns on me. He doesn’t know it’s our first time. He doesn’t realise that we’ve never touched, or kissed, never mind had intimate relations.
Spike groans, his eyes shut and his mouth slightly open. He tilts his head back just a little more, giving me the full view of his delicious throat. How I want to sink my fangs into that pale flesh. To ravage and rip and suck him dry. I groan and make a decision. I tighten my hands, take a deep breath and slowly walk towards him. I’m in control here. Not Spike. I’ll take him, touch him, fuck him when I’m good and ready. He is mine. Totally mine. At last.
“Who do you belong to, Will?” I purr slowly, stalking towards him as if he’s my next victim. I guess in a way he will be.
“You pet,” he answers quickly, eyes shut and his head resting on the back of his chair. His neck on full display. What trust that shows for a vampire to bear his neck for another. He arches off the chair, his hips lifting and thrusting.
“Stop moving,” I snap, wanting his body still. “Don’t you dare move until I tell you and keep those eyes shut.”
Spike groans and his eyelashes flutter as he forces his eyes to remain closed. He moans again, resting his hands on his hips forcing them down into the padded chair.
“Now, who do you belong to?”
“You, Angel. I’m all yours.”
Oh yeah. My mouth waters at the sight and sound of my Will. The boy trying not to writhe on the chair, knowing that my eyes are glued to his hard cock sticking out of his jeans. A small drop of milky liquid forms on the tip and I lick my lips at the thought of tasting him. Slowly, making him wait for it, I walk towards him, gracefully falling to my knees before the chair. Spike gasps at my action, even though his eyes are closed, I know he can smell and hear me. Oh yeah, blessing those vampire heightened senses right now. He must be able to smell my desire. My presence and power over him as a master vampire...his elder, his sire. He must hear my soft panting, even though I need not breathe, I do because just the sight of him makes me breathless.
“Spread your legs,” I command him, my hands touching his knees.
Spike groans, and then hooks his both knees over each arm of the chair and spreading them wide open. I’m about to rip those jeans off, when suddenly, I have a thought. No clothes! There is no clothing here for Spike or me. He’s sure to wonder why, and will finally realise that we’re not together and certainly don’t live here. Damn, I wanted to rip his clothing off too.
Instead I go for plan B, suck him with clothing on. I stroke my hands over his thighs, feeling the solid muscle under my fingers. Those legs are perfect. Perfect in every way and will feel even better when they are wrapped around my waist as I fuck him. I shudder at the thought. I’ve had so many fantasies just about his legs. His shapely, almost feminine legs. I remember as Angelus watching Will as he walked around with no shoes on, wanting to suck his small toes into my mouth and lick his firm arch. His legs and feet are perfection. So instead of letting my hands wonder to his groin, I turn the other way and start unlacing his boots.
“Good boy,” I purr, making Spike squirm even more. He must like my voice. Like me bossing him around. That discovery arouses so much desperate need in me. My boy wants me...well, he does at the moment, and that’s only because he can’t remember that he hates me. I quickly shove that thought aside. I don’t want to think about anything else - past or future. What I’ve done or what he’s doing. I just want to focus on the here and now.
I finally have the boots unlaced and I pull them off his feet, black socks following. At last, two pale naked feet. Beautiful feet. I stroke my hands over one as it waves over the edge of the chair arm. I bring it to my mouth and taste his big toe. My tongue flicks over the nail and under the pad. I slip my tongue between the toes and...Spike giggles. He arches off the chair, his foot trembling as I wriggle my tongue.
“Fuck Angel, no!” he cries, “oh shit, not the toes, you know how ticklish I am!” He squirms like a young child in the chair as I continue to wriggle my tongue between his toes. The sight amazes me; tough, strong Spike is giggling like a girl before me. I eventually stop, not wanting to break the sensual mood I had going. Instead of tickling him, I lick up the sole of his foot and sink my fangs into the soft flesh of his ankle. “Argh!” he screams for a moment, and flops back into the chair, remembering what I told him about being still.
That action amazes me in itself. Spike is obeying me! I wonder if he obeys all his lovers? Did he scream and yell for all of them? That thought burns through my heart and mind. The thought of him being touched and controlled by others. By Drusilla. By Buffy. I snarl and sink my fangs into his ankle again leaving another set of bleeding holes. I lick them closed just after a small taste of his blood. He’s going to need his strength for later.
“Do you remember your other lovers?” I ask, licking the soft and abused flesh around his ankle.
“Lovers?” he replies in a strange stressed voice. I look up to gaze at his face, his eyes closed and his mouth hanging open with short pants. “There were others?”
I don’t answer. I don’t want to lie anymore, but that doesn‘t mean I’m going to come forward and tell him the whole truth. I return to licking his ankles, but then with a loud moan, I leave his feet and run my hands up and over his jean-covered legs. I caress his knees, feeling the knobbly bone and then up his strong thighs. They tremble under my touch. His face is the same, eyes closed and he pants through his mouth. I can tell by the tension of his muscles that he wants to move. They twitch and tense under my hands, wanting more, wanting to touch, wanting to wrap around my waist and hold me to his body. I moan again, my hardness becoming painfully confined by my black slacks. I move my right hand between my legs, brushing against the solid rod of flesh.
“I’m so hard for you, Will. So hard.”
Spike moans, his eyelids fluttering as he forces them to remain shut. I unzip my slacks and palm my cock a couple of times, heightening my pleasure. I have to force my hand to stop and return to Spike’s knee. I don’t want to come yet. I’m on the edge of orgasm from just touching him. I have to control myself. I want to come inside him. I groan at the thought of Spike’s tightness and I have to forcibly control my desire not to touch myself again. Instead, I slide my hands up higher and grasp Spike’s bony hips. I gasp right along with Spike as I hold him down. Such fine hips. Nicely shaped with all the right hollows and hills of flesh and bone. I want to see his flesh but I can’t, not yet. Not until I’ve tasted him. Then I’ll strip him.
I drag Spike’s hips down the chair, so he’s just sitting on the edge, his body bent uncomfortably with legs stretched wide over the chair arms. Oh, the sight of him. The sight of this beautiful, deceptively young looking boy that I want to devour. All mine. I slowly slide across the soft jeans to his open zipper, hearing a deep moan as I part the opening even more. A red tipped cock flops out, straight as an arrow and pointing directly at my mouth. I lick my lips just thinking of his taste. He doesn’t know that this is the first time I’ve tasted him. That even in my fantasies I couldn’t ever imagine what he really tasted like. I lick my lips again, my mouth salivating at the thought of sucking that delicious cock. I press forward and let the tip of his length touch my lips. Soft and smooth and almost warm. All the borrowed blood has rushed there; firming the muscle of his cock and making it erect. Oh yes, blood. I lean back and taste my lips covered with a drop of pre-cum. He tastes sweet and coppery. He tastes of the finest salty blood.
I open my mouth and take in his uncircumcised head, resting it on my tongue. I am careful of my fangs, but I don’t change back to my human facade. I‘ll have use for my lengthened teeth later. For a long moment, I just hold the head of his dick in my mouth. It’s warmer than the rest of his skin, moist with desire and large enough to stretch my mouth. In other words, it is perfection. He is perfection. I withdraw a little, leaving just the head resting on my front teeth, and very slowly and oh so carefully; I insert my fangs into his blood filled flesh.
“Oh fucking hell!” Spike howls as my fangs pierce him. Hot blood fills my mouth and I have to hold Spike’s hips down on the chair. He howls and trembles, and then with a scream, comes into my mouth. Warm, spicy, blood tinged semen fills my mouth and I swallow it desperately. When the last spurt ends, I withdraw my fangs, and lick the twin holes clean as I feel them close.
“Oh bloody hell, Angel. That was so friggin’ perfect!” Spike cries, his body still trembling in the aftermath of orgasm. “I love it when you bite me,” he sighs, slowly coming down from his high.
I smile at his relaxed face and rosy lips. He must have bitten them when he came, colouring them the false redness of living flesh. I didn’t know that Spike would react so well to vampire sex. Especially having his soul and all, and with his last lover being human. Biting the genitals is extremely painful, pain mixed with the sensation of sucking, quickly turns into pure pleasure. Believe me, Darla was the Queen of biting, and Angelus went along with many a plan just to receive what I’d given to Spike.
“Oh yeah,” Spike sighs again, still shuddering from his intense climax. Then as if he’s thinking of something his face changes into that of confusion.
“Angel, luv?”
“Hmmm?” I answer, still licking his cum off my lips and stroking the bones of his hips.
“Why do I feel that it’s been forever since we’ve done that?”
“You’re...you don’t like vampire sex that much,” I answer, not knowing if it’s true or not.
“Nah, that can’t be right, Angel. That felt so good. Like I was on fire. I could feel your cool mouth around me. Feel my blood flowing into your mouth. Your teeth within me. And fuck, Angel, it felt like heaven.”
I’m silent for a long time. Just sitting on my knees and looking up at his calm face. Very slowly, he cautiously opens his eyes and grins at me when I don’t tell him to keep them closed.
“Wanna go to bed, Angel?” he purrs, his hands seductively sliding down his chest to finally rest on top of mine. “I might be able to do something about that monster sticking out of your pants.” He smiles, a laugh passing through his lips and I find myself grinning back at him. I feel...happy. It’s a strange feeling. Something I never, not once in my fantasies, ever thought I would feel. I feel content in Spike’s presence. Even though most of the time he can be an annoying little bastard, I feel relaxed and at home with him. In my fantasies, it was always about sex and possession, never this calm feeling I have just looking at his smile. I feel my face automatically change back to the human facade as my body relaxes.
I get to my feet and offer Spike my hand. He grins, his eyes fixed on my erection as he takes my hand. I pull him through the sitting room and into the bedroom. The curtains are closed, keeping the outside world away and making sure we can sleep without being disturbed by the sun. Which is good because when I’m finished with Spike, he won’t want to walk anywhere.
“Strip for me,” I insist, as I come to a stop at the end of the bed. I let go of his hand and stand before the bed. He looks a little nervous, but he shrugs out of his t-shirt, flinging it off over his head and to the floor. Pale skin is revealed. Masses of it. All soft and white, just waiting for me to rip and taste. Next his hands go to his waistband and he pushes the jeans down, turning so I can watch his pale ass come into view. Soft flesh again, pale with rounded cheeks and as he bends I see the hint of low hanging testicles in front. I lick my lips wanting to taste him again, even when my mouth still has his residue. Finally, Spike steps out of his jeans and flings them aside to join the discarded t-shirt.
“On the bed,” I tell him, watching him climb on top of the red coverlet, his cock showing signs of a quick recovery. I have to smile and thank vampire gods for his marvellous body. Preserved human with a demon recovery time...which can mean only minutes needed for recovery until his next erection. Sometimes, I love being a vampire.
“Turn on your belly and spread your legs.”
“But I want to see ya, Angel,” he complains.
“Not today.”
The coverlet muffles a soft sigh, as Spike turns on his front and spreads out his long legs. Oh, what bliss it is to see him so spread. So open and just for me. I quickly strip out of my clothing, letting it fall to the floor quickly forgotten in the wake of wanting Spike. Then I remember and with a vampire fast dash, I return to the kitchenette and find a long carving knife. Bliss.
I return to the bed finding Spike exactly where I left him. I want something from our joining. I want him to know that everything he is belongs to me. His flesh. His bones. His blood. All mine. I climb onto the bed, making him gasp softly as the bed dips and I crawl over him. I straddle his hips, making sure our skin doesn’t come into contact just yet. I take up the knife, and slowly press the tip into the hollow of his back.
“A present for you.”
“Oh yes, Angel, make me bleed, please!” he cries, his hips bucking as he rubs himself into the bedclothes. The scent of blood hits my nostrils and my mouth waters. I quickly remove the knife and slap Spike firmly on the butt. The force of my blow is enough to mark his preternatural skin. A red hand print displays my displeasure.
“No moving, or I’ll have to bind you.”
“Oh yes,” Spike moans, his hips rising again.
Wants to be bound, does he? Well, he’ll get his wish. I quickly jump off the bed and cross to my old wardrobe. I have this memory of leaving some of my things behind. I just hope I’ve left what...I open the door and yes! There at the bottom are a few pairs of tensile steel handcuffs. I got them a long time ago just in case Angelus remerged and I didn’t think I’d need them at my new office. Especially now with my soul bound and Angelus no longer a problem. I grab a couple of handcuffs and get back on the bed. Spike shudders as I return.
“You want to be forced. To be bound.”
“Oh fuck, yes!!” he cries bucking on the bed, “want you to take me like the vampires we are.” There is such desperation in his voice. Such strange need. I make a conscious note to ask him why after. At this moment, I don’t want to talk - I want to take.
I grab one pale, thin wrist and click the handcuff around it. Spike moans with contact of cold steel and flesh. Then I bend his leg back and click the other cuff to his ankle. Such thin ankles just like his wrists. I repeat this on his other hand and wrist, spreading his legs and curving his back. He groans and shivers deliciously when I’ve finished.
“Oh yes,” he pants. A sound like desperation.
I return to kneel behind him, now unable to straddle his fine hips. Off course he won’t be able to move either when I let the knife tip kiss his flesh. I take up the knife and once again press the tip to the hollow of his back. Spike instantly arches and the handcuffs are stretched out. There is a sound of metal straining against metal but the cuffs hold.
“Gonna mark you,” I hiss, bending over his presented back and speaking into his ear. His eyes close and rough breath escapes through lapse lips. “Don’t move unless I command it. Don’t speak unless I say so. Don’t open your eyes unless I want you to. Understand?”
“Yes, Angel,” Spike replies, acquiescing to my demands.
“Now, this is my last question, Will. Who do you belong to?”
I press the knife into his flesh again, watching the blood start to bubble up from the small cut.
“You, Angel. I belong to you.”
Those will be his last words until I take him. I grin, licking suddenly sharp fangs as I change to gameface. I move up the bed slightly, resting my hips against his soft buttocks and poking my cock between his legs. He gasps but doesn’t say a word.
“Good boy,” I purr into his skin giving his rounded buttock a quick lick. I concentrate on the knife now, moving it up his back to his curled shoulders and the hollow between them. I press the knife in deeper now, watching him jerk as it pierces the skin releasing more scent-filled blood. I can smell the essence of Spike filling the room. Caressing my nose. Making me almost drunk on the very smell of him. I slide the knife down his back creating a thin red line of blood. I reach his middle and moving to his left side, I press the knife in just enough to split the skin and I start carving. A letter forms. ‘M’. I start on a new letter, Spike’s flesh trembling under my fingers as I hold him down. I can smell his arousal getting stronger now and overpowering the scent of his blood. My own erection is also uncomfortable, but I gently rub it between his legs touching his cock with the tip. A second letter emerges in the bloody skin. ‘I’. I start a third, and Spike is wriggling uncontrollably under me.
“Stop moving!” I growl, bending over his back and smearing some of his blood onto my chest.
He moans, a high pitched sound. His face I know has changed and he’s desperate for more. Oh, the joys of vampire sex. Just the blood and the pain can turn Spike into a quivering mass of flesh in his heightened state of arousal. I wonder about Buffy for a moment. Did she cause him pain like this? Did she cut him like I’m doing? He seems to love vampire sex with me right now, but I can’t help but wonder.
I finish my last letter, the letters forming a word - M.I.N.E. I’ve marked him as mine. I’m sad that the wounds will fade soon and nothing will be left behind. Not a scar or even a sign that I’ve ever been here. That this night ever happened. I quickly push the thought aside, I’ll worry about the future when it arrives. Right at this minute Spike is desperate to come. He moans and pants. Wriggling and rubbing himself against the bed even though he fights to obey me. Instead of forcing him to hold back his climax, I lean over his back again, rubbing my strong chest into his wounds and whisper into his ear.
“Come, my beloved.” As soon as the words travel to his brain - his body arches and he screams as he orgasms, his body bucking under mine. I smell his seed soak the coverlet below him. I lick the soft flesh of his ear and sink a fang into his lobe. More howling and Spike enters a second, though dry, climax. I withdraw my mouth with just the one click of his ear. Anymore and my plans for fucking him will be forgotten for a while. The taste of blood is the most sexual and arousing thing to a vampire. It starts our sexual urges and with a taste it finishes them too.
I move down his back, stroking my hands over his injured skin. Already the cuts have started to close. His vampire strength taking away my mark. I growl to myself, angry that they should be closing so soon. I dig a fingernail into the line of the ‘I’ making Spike yelp with desire. I bet that helped his third erection along very nicely. Now, I turn my attention to his spread buttocks. I rub my hand over the bruised skin of one and decide that it needs a twin. I slap his unmarked cheek with just enough force as the first making him yelp again. Two red cheeks. Warm skin under my fingers as I stroke and calm. I test the weight of his buttocks in my hands. They are rounded and pert without too much fat. Just perfect in my hands. I rub them together feeling him shudder and moan again.
“What do you want, baby?” I purr, licking my fangs just from the thought of what I’m about to suggest. “The finger or the tongue?”
Spike makes an unmanly sound and arches his back. He tries to wriggle nearer to my hands. I slap him again, and this time he answers. “Tongue,” he gasps in a rough voice. His throat must be getting sore from all his screaming.
I grin at the choice. Just the one I wanted. I lean down and press my head between his spread cheeks. I take a deep breath scenting his unique smell. The smell of blood and heat. I flick my tongue out and taste his smooth flesh. No human tastes fill my tongue. Only blood and heat. Vampire blood. Spike’s blood laying like human sweat on the surface of his skin. No human warmth but the smell and pheromones of a vampire on the edge of orgasm...again. I grin; he’s going to want to come just as badly when I stick my tongue into his tight hole. The questions is, will I let him? I lick my way down his cleft until I reach that tiny hole. I touch the wrinkled skin with just the tip of my tongue feeling it contract with my touch. Again thoughts of Spike’s past lovers fill my mind. How many others have touched my childe here? How many men - vampire or human - have taken him?
I snarl pushing the thoughts away and concentrating on this one place. This small hole that I’m going to shove my tongue into and after that, my dick. I lick him again, leaving behind my salvia and making his skin glisten in the soft light. I carefully curl my tongue and this time I push at the small hole and slowly penetrate his anus. Spike gasps and aches into my touch. I quickly slap his thigh making him jump but it also stills him. I push harder, feeling his muscles tighten around my tongue, and finally I fully breach him touching the smooth skin inside. Smooth. Soft. Like ripe petals against my tongue. I groan wriggling my tongue about, tasting more.
“ANGEL!” the scream vibrates around the room and I instantly withdraw.
“Oh, you’ve been bad,” I drawl, leaning up to kneel as I grab hold of his hips. “No more tongue for you.”
“Please!” he howls again.
I slap his thigh but now it only makes him shudder and wriggle more in my grasp. I lift his hips, dragging him up into my lap. I line up my heavy, blood filled cock and press it against his fluttering hole. He pants and his fingers dig into his palms. The smell of fresh blood fills the room as his nails puncture the skin. The smell hits me and I shove forward. Spike howls in pain and comes again without anyone touching his cock. I break though the outer ring of muscle and slip inside his cool and welcoming channel.
I’m inside Spike. The boy I’ve wanted for so long is enclosing my cock inside his silky skin. The beloved of both demon and soul is here with me now, moaning in desperate need for me to move and begging me to fuck him into the bed. Before I can do anything, a question flashes into my brain. Is this real? Or is it fantasy? I answer that question just as quickly as I think it. Nothing this good could be fantasy.
“SPIKE!” I scream into the night and pound the tight hole of my lover.
“Yes, Angel!” he howls back, his body bucking on the bed and trying to push harder onto my thrusting cock.
All thought stops. There is only one thing I feel and that’s Spike. I feel his tight body pulling me in deeper. His flesh opening up and receiving me. His mouth screaming my name. His body shuddering under the pounding I’m giving him. His tight passage fluttering around my cock as the muscles pulse.
“Come my beloved,” I bellow, and the muscles of his anus are like a clamp around my cock.
“WILL!” I scream his name again, my body jerking uncontrollably against his and I come. I fill his cool passage with blood and cum. Fill him and feel like I’m laying my mark so deep inside him that nothing can ever remove it. Not memories or time. Not lovers past or future. Nothing.
Two vampires are howling into the night and I suddenly realise that one of them is me. I’m still moving inside my lover, still pounding his bloody hole. Still wanting more. I gather him into my arms, and crush his body to mine. The handcuffs snap and his arms grasp me. I lean forward and sink my fangs into his muscled back, and with the little control I have left lift my arm to his mouth. Fangs enter my skin and my world explodes into bright white light. Then there is nothing...
Next Evening:
I awaken slowly, breathing in the smells of stale blood and dried cum. The scent of lingering sunlight is weaker and I realise it must be after sunset. I smile slowly, the memories of the past night coming to my mind. Spike, sex and orgasms. Spike, sex and love. I grin and tighten my arms around the body crushed to my side. Spike, sex and the end of fantasies. Spike, sex and a strange feeling that makes me nervous. I can’t pinpoint what it is that suddenly hits me but it makes me uneasy.
“Morning, luv? Got a fag anywhere around here?” Spike stretches out beside me, grasping my arm and pulling it tighter around his chest. Then with a soft huff, he turns over, shoves a leg between mine and plasters himself to my chest burying his head into the hollow of my throat. I can hear him take slow deep breathes, scenting my body. I stroke one free hand down the middle of his back to his sticky buttocks. I have to groan at the memory that awakens within me. The memory of being inside him and finally claiming what is mine.
“Spike?” I ask.
“Hmm?” he answers, “Yeah, Angel?”
Spike. He replied to the name of Spike. I remember it from last night. I used it then and he replied. I never told him about Spike. I called him William. My body goes stiff and I hold myself up by a strong arm. Spike snuffles and tries to shift closer.
“Fag, Angel,” he complains again.
“Why, Spike?” Are they only words I can say?
“Oh fuck!” he groans. Spike rolls away from me and lies on his back. He kicks the bed with both foot and hand.
“You remember, don’t you?”
Blue eyes find mine and he slowly nods.
With a vampire fast move, I’m out of the bed and grabbing my clothing.
“What the fuck are you doing, Spike!? Was this all a friggin’ game!? You play me. You get me into bed and we fuck, then you laugh in my face?!” I yank on my slacks while sticking my feet into my boots. I don’t even bother to tie them, just pull on my shirt and walk out the door.
“Err, I don’t hear anyone laughing, Angel!” Spike answers back, jumping out of the bed and following me into the front room. “Bloody hell, Angel. What the fuck has got into you? We both got what we wanted...”
I don’t hear another word. I don’t listen. I grab my coat and I run.
~*~*~*~
Wolfram & Hart Offices, the next night:
My office is dark and only the lamp on my desk lights the room. It’s late and everyone has gone home. It’s been slow and there’s little work, nothing to hold my attention. Even if there was, I don’t think I could concentrate. The only thoughts I have are about Spike. Why did he let me touch him? Why did he stop hating me that one night? Why did I let him fool me?
I shake my head and pour myself a large shot of whiskey. I know why. I know the answer to all my questions. I wanted Spike and nothing was going to stop me from having him. All my dreams, all my fantasies came true last night. I had what I always wanted and I learned that it would have been enough. Spike was everything I had dreamed off. He was the perfect lover and to him it didn’t mean a thing. Yippee, he got laid.
“Angel?” A soft voice echoes around my office and a light appears at the door. Spike.
“Angel, you’re here...err, yeah.” He seems to be at a loss for words. He walks into to my office and stands awkwardly at the desk.
“Why lie to me?” I ask, flopping down into one of the leather chairs.
“I...I...don’t know,” he answers with a long drawn out breath. “I wanted you, Angel.”
“You hate me.”
“Yeah well, you hate me too!” he shouts, stomping over to the liquor cabinet and pouring himself a shot of whiskey. He swallows it back in one go, shivers and fills the glass again.
“Damn it, Angel. Why the hell did you run out?” he asks after he finishes the second glass.
“I don’t like being made a fool of.”
“I wasn’t fooling!”
“Ha, ha, very funny, Spike,” I growl back sarcastically. “Play mind games with Angel, pretend to like him, make him reveal how much he wants you, let him fuck you and then laugh at his lack of prowess after.”
“I found nothing lacking in it, Angel. Best fuck of my life and I wasn’t playing mind games.”
“What the fuck were you doing then?!” I howl, throwing my empty glass against the nearest wall. “I’ve wanted you forever! I’ve wanted to love you! You dangle that before me and now you take it away!”
“Listen to yourself, Angel! You aren’t listening to a thing I say!” he shouts just as loudly back. His hands grab my arms and he drags me to him.
“What are you saying!”
“I love you!”
“Yeah, right! You love...” I step back, my whole world spinning around me. “Wh-what?”
“I love you, Angel.”
“I don’t...” I collapse back into the chair and stare at him.
He kneels down before me, his pale hands taking mine into a tight grasp. “I just wanted...I lied okay. I didn’t lose my memory. It’s just that when I woke up, I felt you licking me and touching me. I wanted so much more, luv. I wanted you to touch me and hold me. I wanted you to lick me all over, but I knew that if you realised I was awake you’d stop and go back to hating me. So I lied, I pretended that I didn’t remember our past because you kept on touching me, and holding me and fucking me. I wanted you so much, Angel. Please don’t hate me for lying. Please, Angel.”
I can only stare at the object of all my desires. The one being I’ve wanted for over a century. The one being I never dreamed I could have. I believed he hated me all these years. I avoided him, fought with him, and nearly killed him because I could never have him. My hand shakes as I reach out and touch his smooth face. Staring into those bright blue eyes that glisten as if he’s on the edge of tears. I touch the softness of his cheek down to his red lips.
“Tell me, again,” I whisper.
“I meant what I said last night, Angel. I meant it when I said I belong to you.”
I don’t know how to answer him. I can’t find the words. This boy before me, this beloved childe was finally telling me what I’ve longed to hear for over one hundred and twenty years. Every fantasy I ever had about him confessing his love never felt like this. Never felt like I could grow wings and soar through the heavens. Never felt like every sin I’ve ever committed has been forgiven. Never felt like I had been given the greatest gift, better than Shanshu, that I could ever dream of.
“I love you, Spike. Tell me again who you belong too,” I plead. I move forward, sliding off the chair and pushing Spike into the soft carpeting.
“I’m yours,” he moans just as my mouth covers his and I kiss him as if I’ve never kissed before. “Always yours,” he repeats.
Soon our bodies are naked and sex heated skin slides together. We touch and hold. Kiss and reaffirm our feelings. Spike is mine. He belongs to me. I’m never letting him go. The world could be ending around me and I wouldn‘t care. I own him. Mine. Mine. Mine.
~*~*~*~
Wesley’s Office:
“So Wes, what you’re saying is that you translated the Shanshu prophecy wrong.” Gunn leans back in his chair beside Wesley’s desk and grins. “Well, that’s not the first time, is it?” He laughs and rolls a cigar between his manicured fingers.
Wesley glares a moment, and then turns back to Fred who is listening intently and not giving him any grief. “As I was saying, it seems the Shanshu prophecy doesn’t mean that Angel will become human. The exact wording means that he will get his heart’s desire. And we all know Angel’s hearts desire is to become human. It’s what he’s always wanted.”
Wesley puts down a large roll of manuscripts and smiles. “See I didn’t translate it completely wrong.”
“I don’t know, I really think we should tell Angel,” Fred whines, fiddling with her long hair. “What if he gets angry? I mean he’s not been having much luck with prophecies lately.”
“Fine, we’ll go tell him.” Wesley sighs and gets to his feet. He leaves the office, Fred and Gunn following close behind. They all look nervous, hoping that the new translation of the Shanshu prophecy won’t be a shock to their beloved boss. It’s not like Angel has ever gone over the deep end on them and acted irrationality. Well, not recently.
Wesley is the first to reach Angel’s door, finding it closed and the office dark inside. He opens the door carefully and looks around; hoping that Angel isn’t there. Suddenly, from the darkness a groan is heard. A deep whining groan. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh follows and Wesley freezes.
“Fuck me harder,” a voice whispers, muffled by the presence of fangs and flesh.
“Hmmm Spike, you are all my dreams answered.”
Very slowly, Wesley closes the door and faces his two friends. They both look flushed and a little embarrassed.
“Ah, well,” Wesley starts, “I don’t think Angel wants to know about the Shanshu prophecy at the moment, I think we had better come back tomorrow.” He quickly walks away, his hand holding the front of his soft woollen slacks down.
“Well, I guess that Angel won’t be turning human then,” Gunn says to Fred, who seems to have a bright spark in her eye.
“No. That means another prophecy has been fulfilled, another job done.”
“Yeah,” they both sigh.
“Charles?”
“Yeah?” Gunn answers, turning to take Fred’s arm as they walk away from Angel’s office.
“How about making our dreams come true?”
Both stop. Fred looks deeply into Gunn’s eyes and he slowly grins. He presses a quick kiss to the top of her head and grasps her hand.
“We had better go catch him them!”
Both of them run off, leaving Spike with Angel, as they chase *their* dreams - Wesley.
THE END