Pairing: A/S
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Sex. In an alley. One vampire. Feeding. Sort of.
Timeline: Future AU, loosely based on *speculation* for AtS season 5.
Feedback: Constructive criticism appreciated. Gushing praise too.
Disclaimer: No, still not mine.
Author's Notes: 1) The product of late night IRC chats and my rampant
need to overcome writer's block. Plot? If you find it, let me know.
2) I revised this over and over but I'm without a beta at the moment
and my first language isn't English – I apologize for any mistakes.
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When the last of the vampire dust settles to the ground, Angel turns to Spike to see if he's injured. He can smell no blood but still, he needs to see. They've been caught unaware, separated from the others and outnumbered by far. Too close a call.
He appears to be fine and Angel sighs his relief and pulls him into a quick embrace - just making sure he's all right, that's all. ‘See? Breathing. Living. All in one piece.’ Pats his back in that manly way, two taps that signal ‘good work’. He has scrupulously avoided more intimate contact since Spike has shown up on his doorstep. Not trusting himself not to shred him to pieces in those first months – too intrigued by whatever reasons have lead Spike to chose LA, after hearing the whole story on a memorable night that ended with both of them thoroughly smashed.
Starts to pull away with a reassuring smile but drops the pretense, stopping mid-gesture, when he sees how pale Spike is. Vampire pale. And he's one no longer.
He's shaking and the smell of fear clings to his skin. Ragged breath and blood pumping too fast and all that Angel can think is ‘human now’, weak and mortal, no matter how well he knows how to defend himself and he can die before Angel has the chance to do anything to stop it.
‘I can lose him any day. Any day.’
The thought sends a wave of abject terror through his body, that gut wrenching sensation you get when you dream that you're falling into a endless precipice, with nothing to hold on to, no salvation possible.
He clutches Spike's body closer to him without thinking. Instinctive reaction - trying to stamp down his fears through perception. Conjured terrors erased by the reality conveyed by his five senses.
‘Real. Here. Now.’
Winds up one hand into his hair and leans in to smell. The last traces of peroxide are now fading from the curls Spike keeps cut short and the scent is clean.
He smells so good.
He always did, no matter how much alcohol or how many cigarettes. He has the enticing smell of one who wants to be wanted, wants to be needed. Wants to be owned.
And Angel... Angel likes to own. Angel wants to own. Wants it badly. He wants to claim and ravage and fuck this man, make sure that he's solid and real and alive. Wants to give in to primal need.
‘Not dead. Feel it.’
He can tell Spike wants it too. The initial fear induced stiffness has eased and he's slowly melting into Angel's embrace. Angel moans when he sniffs the first wave of human arousal. Out loud against the soft hair.
Spike puts his arms round his neck and lifts his head, capturing Angel's mouth in a kiss. Soft lips. Harsh kiss.
Violating tongue sweeping the roof of his mouth and Spike may be human now but he still knows what Angel's demon likes. Blunt teeth bite into his tongue and Angel's fingers bite into Spike's back, wander to the hem of his shirt and slip inside to touch heated skin.
When Spike breaks the kiss Angel's mouth follows, trying to recapture the contact, but Spike's hands hold his face and he stares directly into Angel's eyes so that there's no mistaking what is spoken.
"Love you. Want you."
And Angel wonders how fierce those words sound now. No trace of that long ago dead poet in his voice, though Angel knows William still rules Spike's heart. And soul or no, Spike's willingness was always the most tantalizing of aphrodisiacs, the one he can't resist now and Angel's gone, gone.
Doesn't care they're in a filthy alley, doesn't care the other's can just walk in on them.
Pushes Spike against the wall and they're half concealed beneath a fire-escape and that has to do for now because he can wait no longer. Presses himself against that lean body and makes fast work of unbuckling Spike's belt, opening the fly-button while he buries his face on the crook of Spike's neck, blood rushing furiously beneath the skin.
Takes Spike's cock out and he's so hard Angel thinks he'll be coming any second now. Fists it twice while mouthing that tempting pulse and growls his frustration, knowing he can't bite, he *can't* because he may not be thinking straight but that would be just plain stupidity, coveting disaster – the risk of perfect happiness suspended over his head like the blade of a guillotine.
So he drops to his knees instead and licks the head of Spike's cock. Once. Catching in his tongue the pearl of pre-cum that's already there and pulling away.
A strangled sound echoes in Spike's throat and when he looks up he sees his eyes have rolled back, eyelids fluttering closed. He's close, so close but Angel doesn't want to wait anyway so it's just as well.
He yanks his pants down in one fast motion and grabs Spike's ass, bringing him forth while fastening his lips around the hard flesh. Takes it all the way to the back of his throat.
Spike's hands fly to his head, hips bucking. He pushes him back and Spike sobs. Angel chuckles deep and Spike's whole body shudders.
"Please, please, please…" he whispers, a suppliant's prayer and how many times has Angel fantasized about this - regaining his place as the alpha and omega of this boy's world and having him turn to him in search of deliverance? He draws it out for an instant, committing the moment to memory, freeze-frame to be revisited.
But Angel is not merciless and he's eager himself. Wants to taste Spike's essence in his mouth and semen is almost as good as blood.
So he bobs his head up and down, tongue swirling round the ridged head on the way up and teasing the slit before going back down again.
Senses flooded by the other man's devastating, irresistible humanity. Adrenaline and pheromones, his rapid heartbeat thunderous to vampire ears, pliant flesh and feverish skin. So different.
But he twists the same way in Angel's hands and he still chants his name aloud rhyming it with curses and endearments. Mortal now but still the same, strong and weak, selfish and generous, wise and foolish. His.
Angel is hit by the realization that he's stepping into dangerous ground. Because even this feels too perfect.
And still…
… when Spike's grip on his hair tightens to a painful level, Angel's hands pull his ass cheeks apart, fingers caressing the entrance. Pushing him over the edge.
He pulls back slightly so that Spike's orgasm coats his tongue. Because he wants to savor the taste before swallowing, knowing that this is all the feeding he'll allow himself.
And it's enough. For now. He'll thread carefully and there will be no leap into the abyss.
Spike collapses against him. A mass of boneless human falling. But Angel is there to catch him.
Somehow, he'll keep them both safe.
~~Finis~~