RATING: NC-17
PAIRING: A/S
DISTRIBUTION: If you have other slash-y fic of mine, you can have this, too. Also, MY site.
FEEDBACK: please.
DEDICATIONS: as per the usual... Jeannette, and anyone who likes this series.
NOTES: this series started after the ep when Spike told Slutty he loved her, but before the end of that season (5). Spike went to LA. Angel(us) is his Sire, as far as I'm concerned. Other than those two little changes, this mostly follows canon. * *= emphasis.
POVs: Angel, then Spike, etc. POVs separated by asterisks.
*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*
God, I hate this. I hate knowing that I've left my boy with the others, and I hate the fact that it's probably for the best. I can move faster without him, after all. Hell, if he were with me right now, we'd have stopped at least a few times in whatever handy doorway or alley we might come across, and I just don't have that kind of time right now. Not that it isn't an appealing thought for later.
Still, I needed to make it to the hotel as fast as possible, so I left him at the car with Cordy, Wes, Fred, and Gunn. And Darla. He's probably cursing me loudly right about now, but... he can punish me later. I'm actually looking forward to it.
Maybe it's the visions of Spike wielding... what?... a whip, or maybe just a riding crop. Whatever. I'm distracted, is the point. I think that's why I don't notice the smell until it's too late, and I never even have a chance. I'm bound before I even know what's happening.
I struggle some, but before I can manage to work up a good mad, I see him. Stepping from the darkness across the lobby. Feet ringing loudly against the stone floor. Eyes narrowed with hatred and something that looks remarkably like pleasure. My own eyes are wide, I know, but why wouldn't they be? I thought him dead these last couple centuries, after all. "Holtz," I say, stunned.
* * * *
Sodding pillock! Runs off into the night, leaving me here to babysit the kiddies. Guess I can't blame him, though, cuz if anyone needs watching-over, it's the sadly inept crew of humans he's surrounded himself with. That they've managed to survive this long is a bloody miracle.
Wouldn't be so bad if the fucking cunt wasn't here, but she is. She's sitting in the back seat of Angel's bloody ponce-mobile, moaning and groaning like the pain actually hurts. Sodding bitch is a fucking *vampire*! Still, just seeing her this way gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling deep down inside. Never hated anyone as much as I do her. "Suck it up, bint," I tell her, a wide sneer on my lips.
I can't help laughing when she glares at me, because that look would be far more effective if she wasn't sobbing like a little human girl. This is the woman who was even more feared than my Sire at one point. This is the fucking cunt who took him away from me. I lean closer, hoping she'll hurt even more. "Having fun, Darla?" I smirk, "Cuz *I* am."
I'm totally ignoring the simple prats I'm here with, of course, cuz... aside from Thugly, I don't have much use for any of them at the moment; especially not the little chit we dragged out of that sodding demon-dimension. The girl still annoys me, even if she *is* relatively harmless. Don't quite hate her anymore; not since meeting her folks that time. Nice people, they are, if a trifle odd.
So Gunn steps up beside me, a slight frown showing on his face, and I can just tell he's about to express some concern for the sobbing bitch in the car. Can't have that, though, cuz I'm still pissed about the fact that she's gonna give my Sire something he's never had before. A child. A human baby. One he made. "Watch the slut," I order, and I stalk to the end of the alley before Gunn can say a word.
* * * *
That didn't go well at all. Of course, it didn't go as badly as it might have, considering the fact that I'm still whole, as opposed to being a sifting pile of dust.
Holtz is back amongst the living. He still wants to destroy me. And he knows about my soul. I really have to remember to thank Lilah for that one of these days. Maybe I'll send her a fruit basket.
Still, knowing he's alive again is troubling, because I don't doubt he's still out to get me. Me and Darla, I mean, although... I find I don't care that much about her. Hell, I staked her myself, once, and I'd do it again, my actions on her behalf when she was human aside. That was different. She had a soul then, and a chance to redeem herself. She doesn't have that anymore.
She also, apparently, doesn't have any common sense, because when I get back to the car, she's gone.
My people are in various states of disrepair, though, and it actually takes me a minute to realize that Darla's not the only one who's missing. "Where is he?" I demand, and I can hear the desperation in my own voice, but I don't care. Darla's gone, and so is my boy, and she'd better not have done anything to him; that's all I know, because if she has? I'll fucking kill her again, baby or no. "Where is he?" I say again.
It's Fred who finally answers me, oddly enough. She doesn't know quite what to make of my boy's attitude towards her, but I think she just doesn't realize that he blames her for what happened in Pylea. She a smart girl, though, so she'll figure it out eventually. "He went after her," she tells me in that curiously meandering voice of hers, "That way."
And that's all I needed to know. He's still alive. Darla didn't manage to dust him. Of course, that doesn't mean she won't, so... I don't say anything; I just take off in the direction she indicated, trying to find his scent on the shifting breeze.
* * * *
Fuck, I don't want to do this. I don't want to trail after the sodding cunt. Hell, for all I care, she can just keep going until she falls of the edge of the world. But Angel wouldn't like that. He'd be all disappointed if I didn't keep after her, and... don't want to disappoint the bloody pouf, do I?
I can smell the rotten cow, even as I climb the fire escape to the top of the building, so I'm not surprised when I see her standing there staring out across the lights of the city. "And what the fuck are you up to now, you dozey bint?" I demand, moving closer.
She sighs sadly-- she actually *sighs*!-- and shakes her head. "I can't do this," she moans, hands rubbing that great sodding belly of hers. "I can't let this thing out. I can't *do* it!"
And that's one for the record books. You'd think pushing that sodding pup from her loins would be the one thing she couldn't wait to do. Yet she sounds... serious. "Don't think you have much choice," I tell her, and I know I'm smirking because... If she doesn't want to birth the brat, then it's what *I* want her to do above all else. Anything to make her as fucking unhappy as possible.
"No," she says, "You don't understand. If I have this baby, then I'm a mother. I can't *be* that. I... Right now, I care about the kid, but... as soon as its soul stops making me love it, I'll..." Her voice trails off, and there's such a look of pure misery on her face that it warms my dead heart.
"You'll eat it all up, you stupid cunt," I say, finishing her unspoken thought. "Doubt Angel'd let you, though." I almost growl when her expression lightens a bit. Don't like seeing her look relieved. I wish I could lie about it, but... she knows the great prancing git almost as well as I do, so why bother trying. "He'll stake you the minute you even look like you're *thinking* about hurting 'his son'."
Well, and now she's just all... perky. Seems I've made her feel better about things, damn it. Still, the ponce really *does* care about the baby, even if he doesn't admit it too often. It's there in his eyes every time the subject comes up, and... like seeing him happy, I do. So sue me.
I'm frowning now, but I guess I'll get over it. Still hate the fact that sodding Darla's almost smiling, though. "Besides," I add, "Maybe one of those freaky clans'll get their hands on your little bundle of joy and you won't have to worry about it." And she doesn't look so happy anymore, so my job is done.
She looks at me strangely when I grab her hand, but she nods and follows me when I suggest going back to the others. After all, if she's with them, Souly the Wonder-Git will be able to find her, and he'll keep her from hurting the brat.
* * * *
God, I can't believe what I just heard. Spike... talking to Darla, and without constant threats against her.
Of course, it has to be because he's figured out how much I want this baby. How could he not have, after all? I mean, he's smarter than I generally give him credit for.
I jump from the ledge and hide myself in a doorway as he comes down the ladder, and I watch while he helps her to the street. It's amazing to me that he's being so... not gentle, exactly, but... I don't know. I'm very aware of how much he hates my former Sire, and the only thing I can think, as I trail after them, is that... he loves me even more.
It's a comforting bit of knowledge to have, because I honestly think I'd pass on this whole 'fatherhood' thing for him. Looks like I won't have to, though. My boy loves me to a degree that would be frightening if I didn't care equally for him. There's nothing I wouldn't do for him. Nothing.
And of course, that gets me thinking on all the things I want to do *to* him, and I'm suddenly so hard I can barely walk. Still there'll be time for that later; the important thing at the moment is getting my baby somewhere safe, and if that means getting *Darla* to safety, too? Then so be it.
Spike was right. I *will* kill her to protect my child. Or my childe.
* * * *
All this fucking drama, for such a small bit of flesh. And he *is* tiny, in all honesty. Just a little squalling thing, all cries and flailing little fists. Kind of cute, actually, though I'll never tell poufy so. I can't help staring down at him, all wrapped up in my coat. "I think he's hungry, pet," I murmur to Peaches, and he nods. He's been doing that a lot since we left the hospital. Nodding, I mean. Bloody prick's entirely too agreeable; makes me wonder if he's even listening.
He's still watching the road, but he should be, seeing as he's the one driving, and I almost can't believe that he trusts me enough to hold this boy, but... he does. He trusts me as much as he loves me, and I had no idea that the ponce felt so deeply. It feels good, though. "The guys are picking up supplies," he tells me, and he's driving so bloody carefully it's almost funny. "They'll meet us at home."
And there go my plans for the night, cuz I somehow don't see my great screaming fairy of a Sire just... passing his son off to his friends so we can have a nice little go-round. How could we, anyway, with a baby in the sodding room? It's the first time I've considered just how much this is gonna change things, and it's not really a happy thought. I feel myself frowning for the first time since the nasty cunt staked herself, and I suddenly hate her even more. This is all her fault! She shouldn't have bloody well shagged Angel in the first place, but she did, and now... now *I'm* paying for her mistake. It's a bloody great blow, it is.
"Great," I say, after a minute. "Can't wait." And if he thinks I'm gonna be changing sodding diapers, he'd best think again, the bloody prick.
* * * *
I can feel him sulking, even while he's cooing at my son. My son. Now there's a phrase to strike fear into the heart of any souled vampire. I mean, what do I know about babies? They're so... tiny. And frail. And they *need* things like... time, and attention, and... love. They need to be coddled, and catered to, and... I have all I can handle just trying to keep Spike happy; how am I going to deal with this, too?
And yet, I'll find a way. I know I will, because... I already love this tiny human my boy is cradling so delicately to his chest. I'll figure it out somehow, and without making my childe feel left out.
I can't help glancing at him from the corner of my eye, and I smile a little when I see that while he's still pouting, he's also completely absorbed with the baby in his arms. It'll be all right, I think, as soon as my boy understands that I don't love him any less for having this child of my loins in the world.
I reach across the seat with one hand while I turn my full attention back to driving, and when I find his tense knee, I grasp it lightly. "Love you, Spike," I murmur, and I slide that hand up his thigh just to make it clear.
He seems surprised that I'm groping him, but what can I say? Baby or not, I'm still hard and ready for my childe. He groans softly as I pass my fingers over the growing bulge in his jeans, and I can't help laughing when he presses up against my fingers. "Not fair, Sire," he growls.
"No, it's really not," I admit silkily. But we're only a block or two from the hotel now, so I pull my hand away. "Hold that thought," I tell him when he moans-- this time with frustration. "We'll get the baby settled in, send the others on their way, and then..." I let my eyes flash gold at him for a moment. "Then I have some plans for you, boy."
* * * *
Great sodding bastard enjoys making me sweat. Touching me like that, feeling me up in the car while I was holding that bloody infant of his. Then making me wait over an hour while he made up a bed for that same baby.
Still, can't deny the pillock looks pretty good all bent over while he finished assembling that bloody crib for his son. That that enclosure is in our sitting room as opposed to the bedroom only makes it better. Close enough that we... he, I mean... can hear little whatever his name is, but not so close that he's put off by him.
My cock's throbbing even harder than it has been since that moment in the car by the time he stands up and takes the baby from me, and it throbs even more when he puts the child down with a small bottle of warmed formula.
That was funny, by the way-- watching the prancing git ask cheerleader how much to heat it, and listening to her curse him out for thinking that just cuz she's a girl, she'd know. Sadly, it was the prissy ex-watcher who had to explain, and who knows how *he* knew? Maybe the swishy prat's got a hankering to be someone's Mum. Still, don't much care about that right now, cuz... Oh, yeah, my Sire's got that look in his eye.
I smirk hugely, inching away from him as I stroke myself through my jeans. "See something you like, Peaches?" I purr. I can't help chuckling when he lunges for me, but I still manage to elude him and dash into our room.
His hands are hard when he catches me, and he's for damned sure gonna have to replace the t-shirt he's just torn from my body, but I doubt he'll mind much. Not as much as he's gonna mind replacing the silk button-down that just got treated the same way, anyway.
"Angel," I grunt, as he throws me onto the bed, and "Angel!" again when he flings himself down hard on top of me.
* * * *
And this is what I've been thinking about all day and night. When I wasn't dodging vampire-cultists and demons, anyway. Still, this moment was definitely on my mind. I press my boy hard into the mattress, just focusing on the feel of him beneath me.
He's strong, and toned, and God, he's tense! Of course, it's been a very long day for both of us, and... I can't help but be proud of him. He played his part perfectly for the cameras, after all. He ranted and railed at me, cursing me fiercely for 'running off and abandoning him again'. Said he should have known better than to trust me; to believe me. He made a big show of only staying to help the others because they were suddenly his sole source of blood and money. He was brilliant. He was entirely believable. And a part of me was actually afraid that he meant it.
But he's quivering under me, his hands ranging wildly and randomly over my back, and I don't think I've ever felt so... blessed. I feel him hard in his jeans, that perfect, long shaft just begging to be let out, and... mine is in the same state, so enough with the playing. I want lips and teeth and tongue... strong fingers and wicked moans... raging cock and tight, perfect asshole. I want everything he is. I want to consume him, and be consumed by him, and to never again know the emptiness I lived with for over a hundred years.
I just... want my boy. And I'm going to have him. Of course, I think he'll be doing some having of his own, so it all works out.
He's growling a bit; I guess because I'm not letting him move anything but his hands. I can't really blame him, though. I've been kind of lost in thought for a while, but "Stop it," I order, and I raise my head to smirk at him when he growls louder. "Patience, boy," I tell him, but Spike's never been the patient sort-- and I know it-- so I laugh quietly and press my lips to his, groaning when his wet tongue spears into my mouth. Oh, yeah, this is *exactly* what's been on my mind. This and more.
My lips move quickly down to his chin, teeth nipping lightly at the point, and when he moans quietly, and arches his neck? Well, I'd have to have a much weaker demon-- or a much stronger soul-- to resist the invitation. My mouth closes roughly on his sleek, corded neck, and I let just my teeth slip to true as I slowly slip my sharp fangs beneath his skin. He tastes just as good as he always does, but this isn't about feeding. This is about loving, and touching, and completing all the things we've left undone.
"Spike," I growl, even as I push myself from him. I straddle his rippling stomach, then slide down over his thighs, my hands working feverishly at his button and zip, and when that long, pale cock of his bursts free from the fabric, it's like I'm seeing him again for the very first time. I barely get those jeans to his knees before I can't keep myself from touching him.
My fingers slide up his pale, lightly-haired skin, finally grazing the sides of his ready shaft, and when he gasps, his head pressing back against the bed, I've had enough. I fasten my hands on his wicked hips, and bend down, and as the taste of those first small droplets bursts across my tongue, I just die inside.
I die, and I'm reborn, and he's so much more than just my childe, which is, after all, as it should be.
* * * *
Bloody fuck. Just... bloody *fuck*! He's got me just laying here in the midst of a wide-eyed roll-back, and he's only just *started* to touch me! His fingers are hard, and his mouth is soft, and I can feel those sharp bloody teeth of his against my shaft, and... "Angel..." I groan, like the great sodding ponce I am. My hands move into his hair, but only so I can be touching him. Sire don't need any direction from me, after all. He knows *exactly* what he's doing. "Fuck, yeah, luv... just like that..."
Still, as good as this is, I want my fucking jeans *gone*, y'know? Want to be able to wrap my legs around that thick neck of his and pull him closer, I do. But I don't want him to stop. "Angel," I groan again, "*Pants*!"
Catches on quick, the great pouf does. At least in this case, cuz he shifts quickly, and one knee bends, and next thing I know? That huge fucking foot of his has pushed the denim to my ankles. Impressed with that, I am. Rather industrious of him, in't? Glad I took my boots off while he was building that crib, though. Still, don't want to think about the sodding brat right now, do I?
So I kick a few times, finally getting my jeans to slide off the end of the bed, and I do just what I was thinking about. Or almost. My legs spread wide, and after a moment or three, my ankles lock high up behind his shoulders, and "Fuck, Peaches!" I cry when his lips abandon my throbbing cock to lick at my tightening balls.
I can't help flexing my calves, cuz he doesn't do this much, and when he does, it always means he's gonna "Yesss!"
* * * *
Well, and I already knew my boy liked a hummer. I pull that heavy, haired sac of his further into my mouth, and I moan again as I flick my tongue against the sensitive skin on the back of it, and it's almost enough, but... He's spread so wide for me, his knees beneath my armpits, and he's rocking into me, and I can't help slipping down just a bit further. My fingers tighten even more on his pale flesh, and I slowly run my tongue back and forth over that tightly puckered opening that I know so well.
God, I love it when he moans my name. Just 'Angel'. Or more specifically, 'Angel, Angel, Angel... love you... Fuck yes, Angel...' I love it even more when the words run together into a nearly incomprehensible babble of pure need. That's why I tense my tongue into a hard point and slide it slowly, deeply, tenderly into that tiny anus of his.
He almost flies from the bed, because I've never done this for him before sex; only after. It's a good sort of flying, though, because his lacquered nails are suddenly piercing my scalp, and that small edge of pain has me harder than I've been in... well, in a day or so.
"Annnguuuhhhh..." is what's coming from his mouth now, but I still smile, because I know what he's trying to say, and it's the fact that I've actually made him as non-verbal as he usually makes me that has me purring, so I drive my tongue deeper, swirling it within him, and when he releases that strangled growl-purr-sob I love so much, I can't help but groan myself. His ass slams closed, forcing me out, and I move more quickly than a thought, taking the jumping, spurting tip of his perfect cock between my lips and drinking him down.
I hold him gently in my mouth as he throbs his last, and when I finally let him slip free, and stare up his shaking body? God, just the look on his face makes me feel... whole.
* * * *
Never thought he'd do that, even with as much of a great prancing fairy as he is. Glad he did, though. Entirely new sensation, it was. That thick, strong tongue of his, stabbing deep into my tight little hole? Fuck. Now that's pure bliss, in't? Just thinking about it has me hardening again. But I'm staring into his eyes, and fuck knows what the poncy bugger's seeing in mine, but... "Want you, Angel," I groan, and I know I sound pathetic and pitiful, but I really don't give a fuck. I love him. I want him. I want him "Inside me, pet. Please..."
And it's that last word that has me cringing inside, because when did I become so fucking needy? Oh, yeah. Always was; at least where my Sire was concerned. Always wanted him. From about halfway through the first time he forced that huge sodding cock into my ass. Always needed him, too; from about the same time.
Bloody git actually looks surprised, though. Don't know why yet, but... maybe later I'll do the same to him, and see how *he* feels, cuz even though I came fucking *hard*, s'not quite the same as being filled nearly to breaking by that bloody perfect cylinder of hard fucking flesh, is it?
So I roll my hips on the bed, my reawakened cock slapping lightly at his chin, and when he finally nods and crawls up my tight little body, my legs still wrapped around him and slipping down to his waist? I use my hold on his hair to pull his lips to mine.
My tongue slides into his mouth, and I can feel just the tip of him against my stomach. A few slick drops of fluid spread across my skin as he shifts, and fuck if it doesn't feel like they're burning me. Doesn't keep me from sliding my hand from his over-gelled hair and up the bed, and when I reach under my pillow and find the handy tube of lube, I moan.
My other hand leaves his head, and it takes less than a moment to twist the cap off and squeeze just a dollop onto my fingers. "Lift up, luv," I murmur, spreading the slickness over his thick shaft when he does. Want to feel him, I do, so we don't need much.
I toss the tube a little ways, my hands finally coming to rest on his sides, and I love the feel of his ribs beneath my fingers. "Want you," I murmur again, my legs still wrapped around his solid body. And it's the truth. Never wanted anyone the way I want my great screaming ponce of a Sire; not even Dru. 'Course... never loved her as much, either.
My eyes close as I feel that thick, slick, seeping head against my little bud, but he growls deeply, and I open them again to meet his gold-tinged gaze. Sire wants to watch me, I guess, and... Not really having a problem with that.
* * * *
Damn. I was hoping... but it doesn't matter. And this is just as good, I know. Not quite what I had planned, but good, nonetheless.
I stare deep into my boy's wide blue eyes, and watch them grow even bigger as I slowly force myself past that tight, thick ring of muscle and cartilage. His legs are tensing around me now, and I can feel his sac sliding along the top side of my cock, and he's hard again. He's hard and throbbing against his belly, the fullness of him hiding most of that subtle trail of coarse dark hair from my eyes, and...
I groan deeply when I shore up against his body. I love being this deep in him, every single millimeter of me buried fully within that perfect ass of his, and it's almost enough to make me wonder whether Angelus knew just how right William would be from the start. I doubt it, though, because my demon never really thought much. With his head, anyway. The *big* one. Still, he... *I*... did an amazing job with the lad.
But he's not just a lad anymore; not just my boy. He's my love. *My* love. Angel's. The soul's. And nothing makes that more clear than the look in his eyes as I pull myself from him, leaving just the thick, ready tip of me inside his tight, twitching anus. "Tell me," I demand, although it sounds more like I'm begging, and maybe I am.
There's a small edge of playful stubbornness in his expression, though, so instead of driving quickly into him like I know he wants me to, I just go slowly. I force myself to press just a quarter-inch or so of my cock into him at a time, and it feels... incredible.
Apparently, he thinks so too, because when I say it again, "Tell me,"... he moans loud and long, his eyes flashing golden sparkles at me.
"Love you," he almost sobs, and this feels too damned good to stop. His entire face tightens when my next thrust is just as slow and deep, and he shudders wildly as I repeat the motion again, and I don't know how long I can do this, but I'm for damned sure going to find out.
It's only three of those same long, languid thrusts later that his balls tighten roughly as I slide against their underside, and when he arches and strains beneath me, it's with a gentleness I've never seen in him before. His mouth opens in a silent scream, and those glorious eyes of his finally do close.
I can't bring myself to mind, even though I wanted to see them while he came, because I'm too caught up in the sensation of his tightness becoming even more so, and his long shaft pulsing between us. I feel him cumming against my skin, that thick, viscous fluid coating both our bellies, and when he pulses yet again around me, his hands flat on my ribs, I can't help but follow him.
Every part of me pulses and throbs, and I stop, buried balls-deep within him as I shiver, and moan, and shake, and groan, and finally-- finally-- fill him to overflowing. There's never been anyone else like my Will... my Spike. And there never will be again.
Fortunately, he's eternal, and I really *don't* care anymore that I damned him when I made him. I don't care that he had a soul, and I sent it away, or that I replaced it with a demon that I can't seem to get enough of. The only thing that matters is that he's mine. "Love you, Spike," I murmur against that tight, chiseled chest of his.
I almost want to stay right where I am-- deep within my most beloved childe, slowly softening... my head resting gently in the crook of his neck while he holds me close with his arms and those long, muscled legs. Sadly, his body has other ideas, because I can feel his hole pulsing and forcing me slowly from him, so i sigh and accept the inevitable. I pull myself from him, and when his limbs relax a bit, I move onto my side next to him. My arm stretches out, dragging him against me, and I smile softly, still caught up in the tenderness. *That* was making love. Whatever I might have thought the words meant before, I was wrong, because... that was *it*. I could almost lose myself in replaying the memory right now, but... "Spike!"
* * * *
Bloody pillock thinks he's gonna do that to me-- make me *feel* that-- and just... what?... go on about his business; start brooding again? Not bloody likely. As if I could just experience *that*, and not want to make him see what it was like? Sodding prat's got another think coming!
See, I already knew I loved him more than I should, and then... then he has to go making me love him even more! It's not bloody fucking fair! Takes me all slow and tender-like, makes me fucking *convulse* for shit's sake, and now he wants to just... lay back and bask in his sodding 'after-glow'? Yeah. Cuz *that's* gonna happen! The great swishy bitch has obviously underestimated 'his Spike'. Gonna show him a thing or two, I am. Shouldn't be too hard, seeing as he's so involved with congratulating himself at the moment.
'Course, he's got me pulled up against him, which makes it that much easier for me to wrap my lips around one small, incredibly sensitive nipple, and while that's got him distracted, I take his soft cock in my hand and stroke him.
I have to chuckle when the enormous fairy yelps my name, but laughter's never stopped me before, so no reason to let it now, right? Right! My mouth moves slowly across that broad, firm chest of his, and he's not trying to stop me; fancy that.
It's not a moan that slipped from my lips when I feel his great sodding cock thickening in my fist. It's a... oh, fuck all, it's a moan. So what? Love the bloke, don't I... love it that I affect him this way. It's a powerful sodding thing, in't?
So I worry at that small nub between my lips, sucking and tugging with my teeth, and when he starts thrusting himself up into my hand, I'm suddenly getting hard again, myself. Still, that was the plan, wasn't it? Don't think I can bear to suck him off, though. Just want to be inside him; especially after what Poncy the Wonder-Soul just did to me.
Want to make him understand that it's not just *him*. Gotta show him that my heart is just as bound up in 'us' as his is, right? So, "Love you, Angel," I say, pulling my lips from that tight nipple to meet his eyes, "Never knew how much."
And now the great bloody wanker's got tears in his eyes, and I almost feel bad for making him cry, but... those little drops leaking from his eyes haven't the scent of misery about them that all the other tears I've smelled had, and that's why I don't stop.
My hand moves slowly and smoothly on him, cherishing that lovely fucking cock of his, and when his head presses back against the sheets, I can't keep myself from grinning. Gonna take him farther than he's ever been, and... with any luck, neither of us will ever have to come back.
"William," he groans, and it's only when he's about to lose himself that he calls me by my old name. Guess the Princess hasn't figured out yet that I don't care what he calls me. Anyone else, yeah, but Angel? Fuck, he can call me Spike, Will, William, even 'boy', and it doesn't matter, cuz I know now. Whatever he calls me, what he's really saying is 'Mine'. And I am. I'm more his than I am my own, and somehow, that doesn't really bother me. Not anymore.
'Course, he's mine, too, so I'm smirking as I reposition myself and use my free hand to find that discarded tube of lubricant. It takes barely a moment to squeeze a bit directly onto my cock, but instead of spreading it around, I take my other hand from my Sire's thick cock and nudge his legs apart, passing the lube to my other hand-- the one between his thighs.
He jumps a bit when he feels the tip of the tube against his anus, but "Shhh," I whisper, "Trust me." I can't help smiling when he mutters 'Always', and I slide the tiny plastic nozzle into the rim of his hole.
I know he feels it when I give a good squeeze, but he doesn't complain, which is a good thing. He just sighs and opens his legs more, and... Damn, I fucking love the way the sodding ponce loves me!
So finally I toss the almost empty tube away, and I smooth the slick gel on my cock around a bit. There's not a chance in hell-- or out of it-- that I want to hurt the sorry bugger this time. No blood; no pain. Just... pleasure. Love. Enjoyment. And maybe even perfection. I'm catering to the soul this time 'round, and... I want *Angel* to love what I'm gonna do to him. Not Angelus. Just... Angel.
I slide one finger gently into his oh-so-tight ass, moving it in and out until I feel the gel inside him coating every part of his pulsing ring, and I pull my hand away as I shift myself over him. My thick, throbbing head rests lightly against his tight hole, and I wait until he opens his eyes and looks at me. "Let me love you, Angel," I say, using his actual name; then "Let me love you, *Liam*."
Well, he's crying again. Guess I shouldn't be surprised, seeing as he's still a great prancing pansy, but his hands are suddenly at the back of my neck, and I can feel his fingers interlocking. "William...?" he whimpers, and the question in his eyes almost stuns me.
I've told him, time and again, how much I love him. Showed him on occasion, too. Apparently he didn't believe me, the sodding prat. Still, guess I can't blame him, what with the chip in my noggin. Might be he thought I only loved him for the blood, and I can't lie, Sire's blood is a fucking amazing thing, but "Even if you *hadn't* made me," I say softly, losing myself in those dark, rich eyes, "I think I would have loved you... Liam, Angel, whatever you want me to call you."
And fuck knows if he's gonna regret this later, but "Yours," he says; "I want you to call me 'yours'." His hands are pulling my lips to his, and one of those big, thick legs is rising to wrap around the back of my thighs, and "Love you," he tells me, "*Want* to be yours."
I hear myself groaning, feel myself straining, and I finally give in as I slide slowly into that tight fucking ass that's never known any cock but my own. "Mine," I agree, and as I gently move within him, each and every part of me feeling entirely submersed in the perfection that is my Sire, I hear the baby crying, and I... *stop*. My cock is completely surrounded by the tightness of his insides, and my entire being wants nothing more than to just show him how much 'mine' he is, but... "Oh, bloody fucking hell!" I growl.
He looks at me like I've lost my mind when I pull myself from him, but that's my baby brother out there, in a way, and... how can I find joy when I know he's unhappy? "Don't move," I order, and oddly enough, Angel just nods, although he looks sad, "I'll be right back, Peaches. I promise."
I get up and walk out into our sitting room, and I stare down at the little brat who brought all of this about, and... I can't help feeling like I owe him. After all, if it hadn't been for his Mum coming here, Angel might never have told me how much he cares, and... much as I still hate the sodding dozey cow-- dust or not-- this baby is the one thing she ever did that was *right*. And maybe I'm still just high from the way my fairy princess made love to me, but... think I love the little bastard-child, I do.
So I rock him slightly, but that only makes him cry more, and when his shrieks reach a volume that hurts even *my* ears, I can't keep myself from growling. "Shut the fuck up, you pissant little wanker," I snarl, "I'm *trying* to shag your Dad, aren't I?"
It isn't until he coos and reaches one chubby little hand towards me that I realize I've gone all vamp-faced, but as long as it shuts him up, what do I care? I put him back in his crib, and stand there for a moment as he falls asleep again, and I'll never admit that I bent down and kissed his protruding forehead before going back to the bedroom. Guess the poor kid *does* take after his sodding Pop, after all.
* * * *
I honestly didn't hear my son crying until after Spike got up. Really. And that makes me worry because... what kind of a father does that make me?
Still, my childe went to my child, and that's a good thing. I'm hoping it means that... maybe Spike will raise my son with me. I mean, this is LA, after all, so I doubt he'd be the first kid with two fathers, right? I still have to ask my... No. He's not my *boy* anymore. He's so much more than that, and I can't believe it's taken me this long to see it.
No, he'll never be my equal as far as *power* is concerned. He was never sent to Hell for the equivalent of five hundred years. And no, he'll never have a *soul*... or not if *I* can help it, anyway. A soul would ruin him, and I'm not only aware of that, but I'll take whatever steps are necessary to ensure that it doesn't happen. I *like* his wickedness, and his irreverence. I like it when he calls me names and makes fun of me, and I like it because... I know he does it because he loves me, and because he finds that love scary. That doesn't matter, because he's so much more in touch with humanity than I am, and maybe it's because Dru was the one who drained him, and I was the one who fed him. I mean, not even the Watchers know how that sort of thing could effect a childe. It's never happened before, to my knowledge.
But all of that is irrelevant right now, because he's there in the doorway, and he's looking at me with those hot eyes of his, and...
My hand rises, beckoning to him, and my legs spread wider against the sheets, and I'm pressing the small of my back hard against our bed, and... "Yes," I groan, when he's suddenly on top of me again. I feel that thick, ready shaft poised at my entrance; feel the small breath he's holding, and I want more than anything to feel what I did just minutes ago. My eyes lock on his rough, golden gaze, and I moan. "Yours," I tell him, making it clear that I wasn't completely out of my mind before, and when I feel that still-slick, seeping tip entering me, I can't help crying out, because... this is the way I always wanted things to be, deep in my most secret heart of hearts. And now, I have that. "Love you," I moan wildly, "Love you..."
"Love you," Spike growls, even as he takes me home.
* * * *
And that was even more fucking amazing than when he made love to me. Never felt anything like it before, and... I wonder. Do humans feel this way? Ever?
I don't think so. If they did, they'd've managed to wipe all of demon-kind from the face of the earth long before now. This is an incredible sensation, and I would honestly destroy the world if I thought it would let me feel like this forever. Hence the 'human' question.
But Angel's got his arms around me, and his nose is buried in my hair, and my shaft is rapidly going lax in that perfect fucking ass of his, and... The baby's crying again. It sounds different than the last time, though.
I force myself to sit up, even though that means letting my cock slip from its home, and I look down at my world, and he's not even moving. It's *his* sodding son, but he's just... laying there. "Planning on doing something about that, Princess?" I ask softly, cuz loud just seems wrong at the moment. Not to him, though, because he just looks at me for a moment before bursting into laughter.
"Well," he says, once he's caught enough breath to speak, "You handled him so well before..."
So what can I do, except what I swore I wouldn't? I put on my demon-face, strolled out into the sitting room, and... changed his diaper. I wasn't happy about it.
I was even less happy when I re-entered the bedroom and found Angel staring at me smugly. My hands clenched into fists, and I growled. "I'm not your fucking bitch," I snarled, stalking towards him. "I'm not gonna be the sodding cow who sits home and raises the babies!"
He reached out to me then, faster than I could avoid, and dragged me tightly to him. His lips pressed hard against mine for a minute or two, and when he finally pulled away, I wasn't even able to think.
"Will you be my son's other Dad?" he asked me seriously, and fuck me if I wasn't stunned enough to nod. "Good," he said then, "Because I'm not letting you go."
Well, and I'm still processing that, but... "What's his name?" I ask. "The baby. What's his name." Well, and Angel's looking at me like I've lost my mind, but...
"I named him when I showed at the hospital. Weren't you listening?"
And that drives it home for me, cuz he didn't even notice that I wasn't there. "Was trawling the in-house blood bank at the time, pet," I admit slowly, my eyes on the floor. I can't believe I'm ashamed, but... I *felt* him entering the building, so I figured it was safe enough.
"Connor," he says, and I smile just a bit. That was his grandfather's name. "Connor William," he finishes, and I can't keep my eyes from meeting his. "Yes," he says quietly, "He's my son. But I'd like him to be yours, too."
All I can do is look at the fear and hope in his eyes and nod. I already loved the little shit anyway. Might as well admit it, right? Well, maybe not. I let the corner of my mouth twitch into a half grin, and I stare up into my Angel's eyes. "Well, I guess I don't hate the little brat," I allow, and then his lips are hard against mine, and... this is all so much more than I ever thought I'd have.
I have Angel, and he loves me. I have little Connor William, and *he* loves my true face. I have a friend in Charles Gunn, although he knows exactly what I am. I have associates in Cordelia Chase and Wesley Wyndham-Price. And then there's the girl. Fred. Don't quite hate her as much as I used to, and... maybe I need to let that hatred go.
She was the one we were sent to Pylea for, but... would Angel and I be the way we are without her? Maybe. But probably not. Guess I need to get over it, especially if little Connor William's gonna have a decent childhood.
Yeah. Gotta let it go. But not Angel, cuz.... he's my world.
End.
End Series.