DISCLAIMER: Seeing as Joss would NEVER do these things with his wonderful characters, I am NOT he!!!*g*
RATING: NC-17, of course!!!
PAIRING: S/A
DISTRIBUTION: anywhere with earlier parts of this, and MY site. Otherwise, just ask. Always happy to say yes.
FEEDBACK: would be nice, as i rarely receive much... ::pouty face::
DEDICATIONS: to my site-goddess Jeannette, as always. Also to all the lovely slash writers out there, especially Jenny Crichton, Titti, and Mouse (loving the Old Friends story, darling!!!).
NOTES: Okay, this series started sometime after Spike told Buffy he loved her, but before the end of that same season. Spike picked up and went to LA after she shot him down. In MY world (ALL of them!!!), Angel(us) is Spike's Sire. Aside from the change of location for the bleached wonder, and the Sire-issue, this mostly follows canon, though. I am adjusting events to suit those changes. * *= emphasis, as usual.
POV: Angel, Spike, repeat ad infinitum. POVs separated by asterisks.
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I never really thought he would say it; not even when I said it first. But he did, and... I'm starting to think that maybe I can't lose my soul, because I've never been happier than I was when I understood that he meant it. Of course, that happiness was tempered by the knowledge that Darla was somewhere in the hotel, and most likely listening to us.
Now there's something else. Darla. Or more to the point-- whatever I created inside of her. I don't see how it's possible, I really don't. I'm dead. She's dead. And yet... whatever we made is definitely alive. I can hear its heart beating, even now.
I wish I could say that I'm unaffected by the seeming miracle, but I'm not. I'm... confused, sure, and worried, too, I guess. Especially considering the things Wes translated the other night. Is what we made going to be the death of this world? And if it is... do I have the strength to kill it?
That's the question on my mind right now, even while my boy's got those full, soft lips of his wrapped around the head of my cock. I know I should be thinking about him, and focusing on the sensations he's creating, but... "Ohhh..." He's flicking his tongue over the small drops of fluid leaking from me, my foreskin gripped lightly in his teeth. I *want* to think of nothing but his mouth, his fingers, his cool, willful touch, but...
What do I do about that fucking baby?
* * * *
Sodding ponce. Great soul-y bastard of a prick. Annoying fucking prissy bitch.
The wanker's actually *brooding*! Here I'm giving him some of the best head he's *ever* had, and he's just... thinking. Can't help but wonder if maybe I'm losing my touch.
I actually hope so, because otherwise, it means... the bloody git is thinking about *her*, and I don't want him to be. I'd rather he was concerned about losing his fucking soul again; rather have him wondering whether this is *right*. Hell, I'd rather have him contemplating the state of *my* soul than have him thinking about that fucking cunt while I've got him between my lips.
Still, the prancing fairy loves me. He said so, but... he also *showed* *me*. Still shows me, every bloody day and night. It sings within him; screams through the borrowed blood in his veins. But it won't do to have him focused on anything but what I'm doing to him, so... I pull my mouth from him, watching his cock bob in the cool air for a moment before looking up the long line of his body. "You in there, pet?" I demand.
It takes him a moment to hear me, and I'm not actually sure he did, to tell the truth. It's just as likely that he only now noticed the lack of Spike-lips around his thickness.
So, my eyes narrow, and I just know they're glittering gold, but what the fuck do I care? He's *my* sodding Sire; my *lover*. I have every right to be pissed off at him, and even if I didn't, well, sod him, anyway. "Pay attention, you great bloody pouf," I tell him angrily.
I think it's the obvious irritation in my voice that has him sighing, but that's okay. As long as he's brooding over *me*, I can handle it. But he looks so... distracted, even though I can tell he hears me. "You still worried about the cheerleader, then?" I finally say, because as much as the bint annoys me, she's his Seer, and I guess he has the right to be concerned for her, what with the way sodding Darla bit her, and all.
He shakes his head slowly, like he's afraid to admit it's something else, and that's when I'm sure. My entire body tenses for a moment, and I nod. "Right, then," I say, and as appealing as that thick, hard cock of his is, I move away from him and climb from the bed.
I can feel his eyes on me while I grab my jeans from the floor; feel his trying to figure out what's going on as I pull them on and grab my shirt. I don't say anything, though, because... I don't want to hurt him. Not emotionally, anyway, and if I told him just how... cheap... it makes me feel that he can think about *her* while he's with me, he'll hurt. Plus, I'll look like a great sodding bitch, myself. Can't have that, can I?
* * * *
God. He's leaving? "Spike," I say, but he just shoves his feet into his boots and starts for our door. "William," I try, and he shakes his head, and fuck, I can feel how sad he is, and... He knows. He knows what was running through my mind, even while a small part of my was obsessed by the things he was doing to me. That small part wasn't enough, apparently, and... I don't blame him. I think about it for less than an instant, and... if our positions were reversed? I'd be leaving, too.
It's all my fault. I love him more than I ever thought possible, and I've been shutting him out. I haven't told him how much I'm disturbed by the whole situation with Darla, and... "Will, wait!" I cry.
It takes less than a minute to untangle myself from the sheets and find my robe, and I'm racing after him while I pull it on and tie the belt. "Wait," I beg again when I finally catch up to him on the stairs. "I'm sorry," I say quietly, one hand resting lightly on his shoulder. He turns to me, and I could almost cry at the pain I see in his eyes, and that's when I finally get it. As worried as I am about what I made within Darla, he's even *more* worried about what it means for *us*. I sigh a little and lean forward, pressing one soft, perfect kiss to his cool lips.
I should have told him what was going on in my head from the very beginning; should have made it clear that whatever happens, he's mine, and I'm his. I didn't, though, and... "Come back," I say, although my tone makes it sound more like a question, "Let me explain."
He's reluctant, of course; I can see it in his very posture, but I gaze at him hopefully, and when I mutter "Please," he nods. He leans against me when my arm wraps around his shoulders, and I don't think I've ever known him to move as slowly as he does going back up the six or seven stairs to the landing.
This would be so much easier if we were naked in our bed, but I don't think that's where he wants to be at the moment, so I sit down on the couch in our sitting room, my arm still draped around him. "I'm sorry," I say again, when he's relaxed a little. "I didn't explain anything to you, and I should have."
* * * *
'Well, no shit, poncy,' is what I'm thinking, but fuck if I'm gonna say it out loud. I can't help wondering if this is the conversation where he explains to me that... while he loves me, he wants to raise the brat he's gotten on the cunt with *her*. I don't want it to be. Hell, if it is, then I've got to make myself an appointment with the sunrise. Better yet, I'll go back to Sunnyhell, get drunk, and taunt the Slayer 'til she fucking stakes me.
But he's talking, and... "What?" I say, 'cause I wasn't really listening, but...
"I'm afraid it's evil," he says again, "And I think it might be what Wes read about the other day." He looks so bloody tentative it's scary. Angel *never* looks like that-- no more than Angelus ever did. "I-" he goes on, staring at his feet, "I don't know if I can kill it."
And that's just a great bloody joke, in't? Hell, even *I* can tell the sodding brat's human. Underneath the stench of the nasty bitch, and the smell of Angel, the baby is entirely human. Don't know why *he* can't tell, himself. Still, it's obvious that he can't.
I honestly *want* him to hate the sodding proof of his attraction to fucking Darla, but... I love him. So I just shake my head and stand up. I look down at him, and wait until he meets my eyes. "Come with me," I order, and I don't wait for him to say anything, I just... walk out the door again, only this time, I head for the other stairs. The ones that lead up to the floor he's given the cunt.
I can feel him behind me, and I just know those big brown eyes are wide, but I don't particularly give a fuck. The ponce won't relax until his mind is set at ease, and I hate seeing him all wound up like this. Want his attention firmly on *me*, I do. What I'm planning should take care of that.
* * * *
And I'm suddenly more worried than I was before, because Spike's taking me to Darla's room. I don't know why, but... knowing how he felt about her even *before* all this? Well, it can't be good, can it?
Still, I follow him. I can't help it. I love him so much, and... he asks for so little from me, really. Oh, money and blood, sure, but usually it's *my* blood, and I definitely don't mind giving it to him. When he drinks from me, it's... and just thinking about it has my softened shaft throbbing again.
I fold my hands over the tented portion of my robe, though, and when he stalks into Darla's room, I'm right behind him.
"Thug," he says, smiling slightly at Gunn, "Gotta show my Sire something. Don't shoot me with that thing, right?"
And Gunn nods, a smile of his own on his face as he lowers his crossbow until the hunting-quarrel points at the floor.
I'm *really* confused when my boy moves to stand beside the bed and drags my former Sire to her feet. "Brace yourself, bitch," he tells her, and then... He pulls back and drives his fist *hard* into her swollen belly.
Darla falls back against her mattress, but I barely even notice, because... My boy, my love is... groaning wildly, and clutching hard at his own head, and I can't keep myself from flying to his side and gathering him tightly to me.
"Spike," I say desperately, "Will, what is it; what's wrong?" I lift him against me when he only groans more, and I don't think I even say goodnight to Gunn as I carry my boy swiftly from the room. I don't know what he was trying to prove; I really don't. That he can hit Darla? I already knew that. But...
Oh, God. I get it now. He hit her *stomach*! And it set his chip off! And that has to mean... "Human," I whisper, even as I enter our room and slam the door behind us. It isn't a 'thing' I made inside Darla. It's an actual human baby, and God knows how it's even possible, but...
And Spike knew. Somehow he knew, and he proved it to me in the only way he could, and... I love him even more. I'll have to worry about everything this might mean later, though, because right now... right now, I have a childe to soothe, then arouse, and then... love unconscious.
* * * *
And fuck me, that *hurt*! Still, I got to strike out at the fucking bint who's intruding on my world, so I suppose it was worth it. Not as worth it as what I'm feeling right now, though. "Fuck, yeah," I find myself moaning, but so what? It's not like I don't mean it, after all. My hands rise from the sheets beside me and wrap roughly in that short dark hair. "Harder, Peaches," I groan.
And damned of he isn't listening, because I may just have to add 'Hoover' to my list of names for the sodding pouf. I don't quite recall how he got me back to our bed, or how he got me naked, but... I don't really give a fuck. The swishy bitch *did* manage it, so... "Fuck!" I growl, the head of my cock lodged in the back of his throat. Yeah, this is fucking brilliant! I feel his thick, calloused fingers on the back of my sac, and the sleek, quick movement of them to my hole, and... Wait a minute. I was planning on being the shag-er before all this shit happened. Headache's no reason to change that, right? Well, right. My hands tighten against his scalp, and I drag him up my body and force my lips against his before he even knows what's happened.
I can feel him trying to say something, but seeing as I'm not really interested in words at the moment, I just snigger against his mouth. "Oh, shut up, Princess," I mutter, and drive my tongue deep into that lovely cavern behind his lips. I lash wickedly at his palette, and trace his teeth, and what do you know? Wonder-git's completely lost the urge to argue. At least, that's what the long, thick cock pressed roughly against my thigh tells me.
I kiss him harder, my true face slipping out as I press him onto his side, and then to his back. My own cock is throbbing harder than it was earlier, but that's fine. Just means less sodding foreplay, don't it?
Well, yeah, if the way he's suddenly pushing on my shoulders means anything. Looks like my Sire wants me to go back to what I was doing when today's whole bloody drama began, and... don't really have a problem with that, now do I? Truth be known, I love feeling him hard in my mouth. Love the way that great, pulsing shaft of his slides against my tongue; love the small grunts he makes when I have him deep in the back of my throat, and... love the way he whimpers when he cums for me and the taste of his seed bursts through me.
That's not the plan for this time, though. Maybe later, after I've exhausted myself with his tight fucking ass. Maybe. Still, I let him manoeuver my lips down his body, my human seeming sliding over my face again.
I pause for a few minutes at those tight little nipples of his, 'cause i know exactly how fucking sensitive they are. Hell, I remember one very long night back in eighteen-fucking-eighty-eight when I made him cum just by fondling them... sucking them... licking them... and finally, biting them hard enough that he couldn't wear a shirt for three days, I left him so sore. Yeah, the great swishy bitch has some *very* sensitive man-teats.
He's clutching the sheets and arching against me by the time I slide my mouth to his navel, but that's all right. Gonna make this into a day the sodding princess of a fairy'll never forget.
I delve gently into that small indentation in his abdomen with just the tip of my tongue, and... Oh, yeah. Poufy's gonna remember this *forever*. Of course, so am I.
* * * *
'Love you, love you, love you,' is echoing through my mind, and yet the words coming from my lips sound more like "Yes... Fuck, yes... Shit, Will! Fuck! *Yes*!" And he hasn't even gotten to my raging erection yet.
He's amazing, my boy is. And I know I made him, and trained him, and basically just... destroyed the possibility of anyone else ever being so right for me, but... I look at it this way. If you're a master tailor, are you going to be happier with something you made for yourself, or with something off the rack? My boy was custom-made-- by me, and for me. I just... forgot it for a while.
I wanted to touch him, and taste him, and make love to him repeatedly-- and not just to thank him for what he did, but because I just... love him. I love feeling him, and making him feel. Still, if he wants to be the one in control right now, then that's fine, too. I'll still feel him; just in a different way.
My fingers are actually punching holes in the sheets, and I don't even care how much two-hundred-forty count percale costs, because... "Unnggghhhh..." by which I mean 'God, yes!', but he's just taken my shaft deep into his mouth, and I can't seem to form words. His fingers are tight on my hips, holding me still, and again-- 'Please! Dear God, please!'-- "Uhhnggghhhhhhaaaa...." when one hand releases me, sliding willfully to my heavy sac.
God, I love it when he does this. He seems to know just how to roll my balls in his hand. Hard enough that it makes me quiver, but not so hard that the pain outweighs the pleasure, and this is something he's figured out for himself, because I never bothered with that kind of finesse, back in the day. He's incredible, and... he's mine.
I can't help watching him as he swallows my cock repeatedly. It's the most perfect sight in the word-- next to watching myself sink deep into that tight ass of his. His lips stretched wide, his eyes slitted with pure pleasure, the way his cheeks cave in, then relax. It's unbelievably beautiful. Then his hand moves from my tight sac, and I feel his fingers prying at my anus, and "Spggghhhhh..." I groan, my hips arching from our bed, driving my ready shaft even deeper into his mouth as I explode.
* * * *
Bloody pillock must've been really wound up, I suppose. Still, it's fine by me, seeing as I still have plans for that ass I'm fingering. I pull back a bit, after swallowing him down once or twice, and when he finally stills, I pull my mouth from him, lips tightening as his head slips out into the air. My fingers press lightly around that tightly puckered opening, even as my other hand releases his temporarily bruised flesh, and I can't help smirking a closed-limped grin as I take one of his legs and raise his knee to his chest.
I pull my hand from his anus, and raise it to my lips, allowing the bit of thick, rich seed to leak out into my palm, and I chuckle quietly at his wide-eyed stare. "Thought I'd put a bit of you *in* you, pet," I tell him, moving that wet hand to my hungry shaft.
And it *is* hungry. I could almost swear that my sodding cock is just ravenous for Angel's blissful hole. Of course, so am I, but... I finish coating myself with his slick, viscous fluids, and my still-wet hand moves to that tiny opening once more. "Fast and furious," I ask him, eyes locked on his, "Or slow and sweet?"
"Sup to you," I hear him say, and...
"Fine, Sire," I growl. I slam two fingers deep into him suddenly, and my eyes nearly cross when he tightens in shock. I move my hand in him for only a few moments, though, because... Fuck, I need him right now. The sodding ponce has no idea.
I press that large knee closer to his chest and drive myself deep into him, growling as his asshole relaxes and pulls me in. My eyes lock on his, and I can't help saying it. "Love you, Angel; love you..."
* * * *
And that's something I'll never get tired of hearing; especially when my boy is lodged balls-deep in my ass.
God, I wish I could just freeze this moment in time; spend the rest of eternity just holding him within me, staring into those gold-flecked blue eyes. Of course, I remember what happened the *last* time someone tried to stop the world in a similar instant, and while his moment with his girl couldn't have been anywhere near as worthy of 'forever' as this one, well... it wouldn't be good, in any case. Besides... if time *did* stop right now, I wouldn't be able to...
"God!" I cry, suddenly verbal again. My boy's long cock is sliding slowly and tenderly within me, and there's this look on his face of... Well, okay, I guess he's allowed to look smug. He managed to fool me with the violence of his fingers, after all.
I don't question the fact that he *was* fooling, because... he's making love to me. He's staring deep into my eyes, and his hips are moving smoothly... slowly... gently within me. He's brushing ever-so-lightly against that gland, his fingers gentle on my biceps. I can see all sorts of things in his eyes that he'll never say out loud, and... I love him. I love him, and I no longer care that there's a human child within my ex-Sire. I don't care about that at all; especially not if having that means losing Spike. My William. My world. Because that's what he is.
And fuck the Powers and their Shanshu. If they think becoming human again is a reward, now that my boy and I are so... right together, then... they've got another think coming. I'll spend the rest of my time as a vampire finding another souling spell, and finding witches to cast it, and if I ever *do* wind up with a heartbeat? Well, my Will will turn me again, and re-soul me, and... we'll have the eternity I want and need. There is no amount of time that would be enough with him, although he does still irk me on occasion.
My hands slide up and down his tight, tensing back; my hips shift against our mattress, and I know he's not even close yet, but I can't help myself. He's so deep inside me, and I can only imagine what it'll be like when I'm *his* childe, and... "William!" I shout, my entire body convulsing harshly around him. And who knows if Wes was right with his interpretation of the scrolls? Who knows if my alleged 'humanity' will ever come to pass? More importantly-- who cares?
I will never let this go. This feeling. The sense that... this is exactly where I'm supposed to be. My childe *is* my world, and... I'll do everything I can to stop other demons from making this town hell on earth, but... if Spike's chip is ever taken out, or if it just... stops working? Well, I'll hope that he loves me enough to only feed on the truly evil-- be they human or otherwise-- but I won't stop him. And I won't turn him away. He's a part of me. And he makes me... happy.
All of me tightens again; this time, the tension is accompanied by the thick, almost endless spewing of my hard cock between us, and I guess he was closer than I thought, because I'm suddenly feeling a cool rush of slick fluids flooding my bowels, and hearing his strangled grunt, and... "Love you," I moan, as he forces himself even deeper.
* * * *
Well, if the fucking pansy thinks I'm ever gonna let him go, then he'd better think again.
Never came as hard as I just did; not in almost a hundred and thirty years.
It was taking him so slow and soft that did it, I think. Well, fine. That and the fact that I could feel the sodding git *thinking*. Still, he was thinking about *me*; I could tell.
The little bit of his brain that was still capable of logic was all wrapped up in *me*, and what can I say? Yeah, it makes me just as much of a poufy-hat-wearing ponce as he is, but... no reason he has to know that, right?
It's all I can do to pull my arm from beneath that great thick knee of his. It's almost more than I can bear when my cock slips from that perfect fucking hole. Still, I suppose I couldn't stay there forever... not in a stretch, anyway.
I'm feeling all boneless against him, each and every limb leaden and dead-seeming, but... my lips are right there by that tight sodding nipple of his, and I can't help but flick my tongue out, laving slowly at it.
I chuckle softly when he groans, although that bit of laughter dies when I feel him hardening against me. I move my chin and stare into his eyes. "Princess?" I inquire.
A dark, willful smirk crosses his lips, and I almost think he's psycho-Sire-- the one I last saw after his wild romp with the Slayer-- again, but... I look deep into his eyes, and it's just... Angel. It's still my bloody ponce of a Sire. The mighty pouf. Wank-y the Wonder-Soul. "Angel," I say, more of a moan than anything else, and when he stares just as deep into me, I shake. "Cause he loves me. I already knew that, but...
He loves me. I love him. Nothing else matters.
End.