DISCLAIMER: I am not Joss. He owns all.
RATING: NC-17
PAIRING: S/A
DISTRIBUTION: My site, and anywhere I've said could have my slash-y stuff.
FEEDBACK: Please.
DEDICATIONS: to Jeannette, as usual; also to: Titti and Jenny-- for writing such lovely fic!!! You guys rock!!! *VBG*
NOTES: this started sometime after Spike told Slutty he loved her, but before the end of S5:B. For MY purposes, Angelus is Spike's Sire. Okay, so Spikey ran off to LA, he and dear Angel got rather... close, shall we say???*giggle*... and they wound up in Pylea. This series mostly follows canon, with the small exceptions of Spike leaving Sunnyhell and being Angelus' creation. Oh, and * * indicates emphasis.
WARNING: This series contains spoilers for S5:B and S2:A, as well as the NEW seasons.
POV: Angel, Spike, Angel, Spike, etc......
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I must be insane. It's the only possible explanation, because... after all of his promises to show me just how sorry he can make me for what I did to him in Pylea, he's done nothing to *show* me. And maybe it's because he's trying to be nice; to give me a chance to mourn for Buffy. Still, I wish he'd just... get on with it, already!
I remember waking in Fred's cave with him beside me, his head pillowed on my shoulder. I remember the small smile that spread over his lips when he opened his eyes and found me watching him. I remember thinking that whatever he was going to put me through, it would be worth it if I could have that feeling for the rest of eternity. That sense that I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
Oh, not in Lorne's dimension, but... with my childe. *My* childe. My wicked, soul-less, evil childe, with his white-blond hair and bright eyes. Fuck redemption, I thought then. Fuck becoming human again, and fuck everything else that might ever happen to separate us. I wouldn't allow it, no matter what.
Of course, then his fingers were trailing roughly over my skin, and he was growling softly, and... I could just *see* the payback growing in his eyes, and... Fred has an incredibly poor sense of timing, you know?
Next thing I knew, we were off to find that Groosalug thing, and... Well, things got messy for a while. Lorne's head had been chopped off, as I found out later, and...
But that doesn't matter, because he's fine now. So are Wes and Gunn. Cordelia's back, too, and no longer moaning and wailing about how the Powers suck, or how Doyle should be shot-- if he were still alive-- for giving her the visions. And it was Fred who got us out.
Now, I know my boy doesn't like her much, seeing as he blames her for all of the things that happened, but... He seems to be tolerating her fairly well, and I'm pretty sure it's only because she was the one with the mathematical knowledge to bring us home.
Home. There's a word. I finally know what it really means, too. Home is the place where I can control my demon. The place where I don't rape my boy just because I can. The place where I can try to prove to him that I... Well, that I love him more than anyone or anything else, even if I *can't* say the words. And home is the place where he's making me crazy.
* * * *
Sodding Angel's going nuts, just waiting for the other shoe to drop. I'm having too much fun drawing it out, though. It's been almost two months, after all, and the prancing git *knows* there's a reckoning coming, but he has no idea of when or how it's gonna fall down on his oh-so-deserving head. It's funny, really.
See, I was gonna start up right off, in that bloody awful cave, but... The little bitch interrupted, and I think I actually might have to thank her someday. Or not. Still, her interference gave me enough time to mull things over a bit, and... What better way to punish my bastard-y prick of a Sire than to keep him on the ropes for a good long while? Seriously. Oh, I'm still gonna make him pay in blood and flesh, but... not just yet.
I'm enjoying the way he can't seem to stop catering to my every whim, y'know? It's a bloody powerful feeling, it is. And the fact that I'm confusing the fuck out of him only makes it better, because... every single time I sink deep into that tight, firm ass of his, I can tell he's thinking it's time, and so I... shag him. Slowly. Tenderly. Hell, even *gently*, more often than not. I make him cum, time and again, and treat him like a sodding Queen, I do, and... I'm making him incredibly tense with all the waiting, but that's kind of the point, in't? I know him better than I've ever known anyone before, so I'm entirely sure that he's just... *twitching* inside.
Of course, so am I, 'cause every time I close my bloody eyes, I see that fucking pointy-faced bastard he turned into, and every time I sleep, I... Well. Not my favourite sodding memory, is it?
But still, I have to wait. Don't want him thinking about the Slayer-that-was, do I? I mean, it's bad enough that I thought I loved her myself, but... he actually *did*; fuck knows why.
It's been nearly five weeks since Red brought us the news, though, and that sorrow in his eyes seems to have faded a bit, so... maybe I've waited long enough.
Yeah. Time for the prancy bugger to *pay*.
* * * *
And this is what I've been waiting for. What I've been expecting. It hurts, of course, but I deserve every moment, every instant, every small eternity of it. Whatever he wants to do to me is fine right now, because... I still recall each and every moment of taking him against his will, and... "Gnnnghhhh..." I groan into the gag as he cracks that leather belt against my back again. I can feel the blood trailing down my back; feel it staining my legs as it slides in thick rivulets to the floor, and... The fact that I'm hard as a rock does nothing to make me feel any better. I raped him. Made him bleed. Drank him almost dead. And I can't seem to forget.
My eyes close tightly as he moves around to the front of me, and there's such a degree of pure enjoyment and vengeance on his face that I can't keep my fucking cock from jumping, and... "Enjoying this, are you, Peaches?" he growls.
God, I wish I could deny it, but the evidence is staring him right in the face, and... Still, I shake my head. I want to tell him that it's just the demon-y parts of me that are, but he'd know that was a lie. Angelus is loving the pain, yes, but... I-- the soul, I mean-- I'm enjoying the fact that I'm starting to pay for what I did to him. Hell, I'm even liking the overwhelming frustration the cock-ring he put on me has singing through my blood.
So his eyes are suddenly calculating, and if I didn't deserve this, I'd probably be worried, because... that look on my childe's face has never boded well. Not for *anyone*. His eyes travel up from my face, and he smirks just a bit at the chains holding me to the metal beam up near the ceiling. I think he's glad that I never got around to finishing the renovations on the top floor, because... How else could he have strung me up this way? Those hot blue eyes of his narrow swiftly, though, and he glares at me. "Let's see how you like *this*, pet," he purrs, that belt he's got snapping out to crack hard against my cock.
I know I'm hanging in my restraint, because I can feel the metal of the manacles biting into my wrists even as I sob. I can feel the blood starting to slip down my arms, but I can't quite regain my feet. I've never felt anything like this, and neither has my demon. He wasn't expecting that, after all. Hell, I think Angelus thought that this was going to be just a rather violent form of foreplay, and... God! He's *scared*! *Angelus* is suddenly *scared*!
* * * *
And that's exactly the fucking reaction I was going for! The bloody Pouf's hanging there, all witless and whatnot, and it's a beautiful fucking sight to behold. Blood running over his skin, even across that great sodding shaft of his, and... Oh, yeah. I'm glad I waited this long. Gave the betrayal a chance to fester, it did.
My arm pulls back again, only this time, his thick leather belt lands on his chest. Guess I didn't snap my wrist enough, though, 'cause he's not quite bleeding from that one. Still, if at first you don't succeed...
And there we go! That tight fucking nipple of his is leaking down his chest like he's lactating blood, and... Oh, yeah, gonna have myself a *taste*, I am.
I keep ahold of the belt, even as I move closer, and just the *smell* of him has me harder than I already was. The way he tastes is beyond thrilling, 'cause I can feel the fear and longing in him, and... Sire's blood, after all. Nothing unpleasant about that. I don't think he's as hurt as he's acting, though, so I bite him hard, and laugh when he's suddenly supporting himself again.
Fuck, but he's gorgeous like this! All chained up and wanting to pay. Kind of makes me feel cheap that he isn't fighting me, though. 'Course, I can fix that, I think.
I meet his eyes again, even as I drop his belt, and my hands go to the waist of my pants. I can feel the splattered droplets of his blood on the cotton, and I smile my 'evil' smile, popping my button and pulling down the zip. It takes less than a moment for the buggering wanker to realize what I'm up to, and I can't help laughing when he shudders. "Thought you were hurting already, Ponce?" I ask him, walking slowly to his back.
Wish I'd had the foresight to string him up a bit lower, but I guess this is when I find out just how willing he is to play this out. I pull the same chair I used to hang him from its spot near the wall, and climb up, quickly unclipping the chain from the beam.
He's stunned for a moment; then... "Lie on your stomach with your legs apart." It's an order, of course, and fuck me if he doesn't do it.
* * * *
I can feel the dirt and grit on the floor pressing deep into the cuts on my body, but frankly, it's only the still-split skin of my cock that hurts. It's a nearly frightening sort of pain, too. And I'm still fucking *hard*!
I really *am* determined to see this through, but... I don't know how much more I can take. I'm his Sire, and I'm stronger than he is, and... it's only my own resolve that's holding me still. He hasn't attached the chains to anything. Still, I owe him this, and... "Gaarrrgnnnnnnahhhhh..."
That's what it sounds like through the wad of fabric stuffed in my mouth when he's suddenly laying on my back, and his long shaft slams hard into me, and now I know why he made me bleed in the places he did, because... none of my blood has come anywhere near my anus, and he's not being anything *like* gentle.
Of course, neither was I, so...
I can't even move, my body's throbbing so hard, and every time he rams deep into me, I feel myself splitting a little bit more, and even my demon isn't enjoying this. The filth on the floor is becoming even more imbedded in my open wounds, and...
He's whispering as he fucks me. I can barely make out the words, but it sounds like...
* * * *
"That's for leaving... and that's for being such a bastard... that's for *Dru*, you great sodding pillock..." I know I'm speaking out loud, but I'm being quiet enough that he can't hear me, and... Yeah, this is about what he did in Pylea, but also about so fucking much more! He treated me like I was his bitch for years, and... now I can get a bit of my own back, can't I, so fuck me if I'm not gonna do just that!
His ass is so tight, though; made more so by the pain I know is raging in his body, and... I'm gonna make him bleed even more. I slam into him roughly, forcing myself deeper than I ever have before, and I know the fucking git isn't enjoying it *now*. The thought makes me smile, even as I feel him starting to ooze thick, cool blood around my stabbing cock.
"That's for loving the Slayer more than me... that's for trying to kill me, you fucking shit-wad..." He's moaning now, and I can't help moving faster and harder, much as I want to draw this out. Fact is, he *does* deserve everything he's getting, but... I still love the prancy bastard. Always have. Probably always will.
I can feel the pool of blood forming beneath him; smell the deep, rich scent of it growing stronger, and... Just as he did to me, I stab my teeth hard into him, and drink him nearly dry. I feel him go limp when he passes out, and I pull my fangs from him as I slam myself even deeper into that no longer so-tight ass of his. Seems my raging cock has stretched my poor Sire past the breaking point, because my sac almost slides in, too. It's a fucking bizarre sensation, but... Fuck!
I almost broke my own back, cumming hard in him, and it actually takes me a good few minutes to be able to see straight again.
So I drag myself away from his lax form, and when i'm finally on my feet again, I can't help laughing out loud. Sodding Angel's never looked so... whatever. The enormous ponce is just laying there, legs spread wide. There's not as much blood as I thought, but that's all right, because there's still plenty.
It only takes a minute to drag his limp body from the dirt-encrusted floor, and it's a bit awkward, carrying him from the room and down to the one we share, but I manage it. His head hits the door jamb a couple times, but it's not *my* fault that the bloody prick's so damned lumbering and oaf-ish, is it?
I put him down in the bathtub and run the hot water before climbing in, myself. I wash him slowly, my fingers caressing his healing wounds, and when he's finally clean, I get up. Getting him into the bed is easier than I would have thought, and the last thing I do before going to sleep is to take that damned cock-ring off of him. Sire's gonna be getting shagged when he wakes, after all, and... I want him to cum.
* * * *
God. I still ache, even though I'm healed. Maybe it's because he drank so much from me last night, though. It takes me a minute to realize where I am, but finally, I understand that I'm in our bed. So's Spike.
He's curled up against me, his lips moving slightly in the still air, and... Thank God. He's not whimpering this time.
He thought I didn't know, but how could I not, when every single night he cried out for me to save him... from me. His feet would twitch like he was trying to run, and... It almost broke my heart every time. That's one of the main reasons I let him do the things he did. I was hoping that maybe it would give him some closure; let his subconscious know that he was still the Big Bad. That it seems to have worked makes it even more worthwhile.
I'm not quite sure I want to look at myself, to be honest, because the thought that I'm under the covers, covered in dried blood and dirt is just too... awful. But I don't *feel* gritty or sticky, or even like I'm anything but clean, and... My hand moves slowly to my chest, finding only smooth skin, and...
I turn slowly onto my side, wrapping my arms tightly around my boy. He did this, I know, and I don't think he has any idea of how much it means to me. One hand strokes his sleeping spine tenderly, and I know there are tears in my eyes when his own open.
My fingers move swiftly, until I'm cupping his cheek. "Mine," I say softly, for the first time since... just since. "Mine?" I say again, more of a question, because he's silent as a fucking mouse.
* * * *
Thank fucking God! No more sodding nightmares, and... I think we can finally go back to the way we were before that bloody demon dimension. Still, can't give in too easy; wouldn't want Poufy thinking I've gone all soft, after all.
I stare into his deep eyes, though, and... Bloody *fucking* hell, the ponce looks like he's about to *cry*! I look a little deeper, and... Fuck me! Angelus loves me, too? I mean, I knew the prancy *soul* did, but... "Yours," I finally allow.
My hand rises to mirror his touch, and when he presses his cheek hard into my palm, I can't keep myself from moaning. Kind of pisses me off, that does, what with me *not* being a great pouf, but I can't really say anything 'cause his soft lips are suddenly against my own, and when his hands are tight on my back again, and I feel that great sodding cock of his just throbbing against mine, I want him. For the first time since that beast of his took me, I actually *want* him *inside* me.
I pull away from his mouth and gaze into his glittering gold-flecked eyes. "Want you, Sire," I groan, and the look on his face is just... priceless. It gets even more so when I push him onto his back and straddle him. "Got a problem with that, Peaches?" I demand.
* * * *
I'm entirely stunned. Really. Spike's sitting on my stomach, and he's long and hard against my skin, and I can feel him pulsing, and... it's been so *long*! Not that I mind, because I completely understand why he didn't want me to... and I enjoyed it every single time he took *me*.
But he's apparently over what I did to him-- for the moment, at least-- and I can't stop my hands from moving on his skin. One comes to rest on his soft waist, while the other wraps gently around that long tube of hard flesh, and I stroke him softly for a moment. "Are you sure...?" I begin, only to be silenced when he leans down and drives his wet, pointed tongue between my lips.
It isn't until he moves to sit on my thighs that I realize he's pulled the tube of lubricant from beneath his pillow, and I know my eyes are wide while he spreads a good amount over my jumping erection. His eyes are hot on mine, and he smirks wickedly as he raises himself over my slick hardness. I shudder when I feel that tiny, clenched opening against the tip of me, and cry out as he lowers himself so slowly it should be a crime. "Spike..." I moan, coming up with an entirely new definition for the word 'home'.
Home is *this*. This moment. This feeling. *This* is home. My boy. My childe. My *world*.
He just smiles some more as he begins to move himself on me, and I chuckle when he finally answers my question, because... "*No*... I'm *not* sure, you great sodding pouf," is what he says.
My fingers tighten around his throbbing cock, and I'm thrilled when he moans loudly. "Mine," I say one more time.
"Yours," he says again.
End.