DISCLAIMER: Joss would never let Spike and Angel do these sorts of things; hence I am NOT Joss!!!
RATING: NC-17, I guess.
PAIRING: S/A
DISTRIBUTION: Titti, Laura, and Rune, since they were nice enough to want it...
FEEDBACK: lets me know I'm not wasting my time.
DEDICATIONS: to everyone who bothered telling me they liked the last one... thanks!!!
NOTES: this little dance down the primrose path began at the end of the ep where Glory beat the ever lovin' shit out of poor Spike. In my world, 'Epiphany' happened around the same time.
POV: the Brood-master General... again.
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I'm worse now than I ever was without a soul, and I know it. I mean, he's here because he's hurt, but what did I do? Did I let him heal up, then talk to him about what in the hell we were doing? Of course not! I waited until he was gorged and flying on Sire's blood, and I...
No. That's not what happened. I don't care *what* I apparently want to convince myself of. I didn't force him; didn't seduce him. Hell, if *anyone* was seduced here, it's *me*! And damned if he didn't do a fine job of it, too.
Okay, I don't know exactly what I was thinking when I went to Sunnydale, but when I brought him back here, and set him up in my room? Well, I know what I was *hoping*. Still, I'm his Sire. He should have waited until *I* made a move! But Will... Ah, my Will's never been the patient type, so I don't know why I was surprised.
I was dreaming. More like remembering, really. Remembering days and nights of hunting, and blood, and feeding each others' darkest needs, and honestly? It's a dream I have pretty often. I always wake up hard and alone, and just... wishing. Not today, though. Oh, I was definitely *hard*, and it actually took me a moment to realize that I was awake, and that the sensation of that cool, wet mouth-- those hungry, grasping lips-- was real.
It was very, very real.
I honestly thought about trying to stop my boy when I realized, but how could I? How could I even really consider it? He's my Will, and... he owns me in a way. Almost as much as I own *him*.
So his lips were wrapped tight around my cock, and I could feel just the bare edge of his still-human teeth scraping against my underside, and I couldn't help but slide my fingers hard into his hair. Gods, he wasn't even *healed* yet, or not all the way. But he was still Will, even after all the time we'd been apart. I felt his fingers rolling my balls, and I inhaled deeply to groan yet again, and... I smelled it. That slight tinge of salt in the air. My boy... was *crying*?
Every bit of the demon inside me was railing hard, telling me that of *course* he was crying; how could a demon like Spike *not* cry at having to pay for my blood that way? I was the 'souled fuck', after all. It was a shocking blow to the throbbing need within me, and yet it seemed all too likely. Sure, my boy had touched me since I'd brought him home, but he hadn't done anything like this, and... Why would he?
No, I decided in less than an instant, my demon was right, and that was just... unacceptable.
So, I pulled him away from me, and dragged him up my body. He looked surprised, but not as much as he did a moment later. "You don't have to do this, Will," I told him. His brow creased a little, and I couldn't help wondering what he'd expected me to say, but "This isn't why I brought you here."
If I'd been on my feet, he could have knocked me over with a feather duster then, because... He said it. The last thing I'd ever expected to hear from him, even if we *had* been getting along. He wanted that. Wanted *me*! Hell, he even called me 'Angel'! Not Angelus, not Peaches; not even Pouf, but... Angel. Then his fingers were wrapped around me, and his lips-- his teeth!-- were on my skin, and Gods help me, but I couldn't resist him any more than I had before this soul came along.
Even when he was first turned, my William had an incredible mouth. It drove me crazy, wondering where he'd gotten so good at the licking, and sucking, and biting aspects of our loveplay, considering the kind of man he'd been. Eventually, I decided it had to be natural talent, though, and I *did* refine his skills a bit, if I do say so myself. He's improved since then, as unlikely as that seems.
So his mouth was there on my chest, making me entirely insane, and his long, elegant fingers were stroking me so gently and slowly, it was almost like they weren't moving at all, and it had been so *long*!
A large part of me wanted to just lay there and let him make me feel all the things I'd missed since the moment I'd left him, but... that wasn't the kind of relationship I wanted to build. Not *this* time. My fingers tightened in his bleached hair, and I pulled his mouth to mine, stabbing my tongue deep to meet his, and... It was better than I remembered. I plundered his mouth desperately, even as I pulled him down against me, and I barely kept from screaming when his cock was suddenly throbbing against my own. It had been over a century since I'd wanted anyone that badly, and the last time I had? It was still him. I remember thinking that it always would be, but I forced the thought away with the next wave of pure lust and need that flowed through me.
I don't know exactly how I ended up above him, but I did, because suddenly I was gazing down into those so-blue eyes, and there was a light shining from him that I hadn't seen in far to long. Every instinct was shouting out to take him, and take him hard, but... He was still hurt, I told myself. Still, when he shifted slightly beneath me, I couldn't help myself.
I swiftly dragged the tube of lubricant from the drawer in my bedside table, and I sat back on my heels, wondering what he would do next. It was always possible that it was all a game, after all, but... Then his hands were on mine, opening that tube, and he'd squeezed a good amount into my palm, and when he lay back, staring at me like I was some sort of a God? No, I realized. It wasn't a game-- or if it was, it wasn't one with any losers. I dipped one finger into the slick ooze in my hand, and when it was thoroughly coated, I moved it slowly to that tightly puckered bud I could just see. His knees were bent and spread, his cock hard and proud in the still air, and when I slid that slick digit tentatively to his opening, and pressed it inside? My moan wasn't the only one to break the silence.
Gods, I'd forgotten how tight he was. Of course, it stood to reason, seeing as he'd been a virgin-- in every sense of the word-- when I pulled him from Dru and fed him myself. I've often wondered how much of his enjoyment was because I was his Sire, and how much because I was me... Angelus. Would he have loved me, even without the bond of blood? I'll never really know, but I don't suppose it matters much anymore.
I pumped that finger in and out of his tight, pale ass, and when he started arching slightly, looking for more contact, I let a second join it; then a third. He writhed there, fingers grasping tightly at the sheets, his body tensing and relaxing repeatedly as I stroked that one spot deep inside him, and when his shaking gasps came faster and harder, I couldn't bear any more.
He sat up when I pulled my fingers from him, and his hands were shaking as he squeezed a liberal dollop of thick gel onto his fingertips. My eyes closed, and a low growl flew from me when he stroked that gel over my cock. His fingers worked me gently, which was something of a surprise, but I guess he knew just how close I was to cumming right then and there. He pulled back on my foreskin, still coating me thickly, and when he finally, finally stopped, I'd definitely had enough. I slipped one arm under his knee, pushing it up almost to his chest, and positioned myself firmly against that tiny, perfect opening.
I watched his eyes at first, growling again as they widened, but damn, he was so fucking tight! "Let me in, Will," I remember moaning, and he did. He relaxed just enough that I could work the very end of my tip into him, and it was almost unbearably painful to slip slowly and gently into him when my every urge was to just bury myself balls-deep within him and never come back out.
My eyes closed, and I held one very deep, very unnecessary breath as I forced myself fully into my childe's tight, hard body, and my soft sigh of completion was drowned out by his needy groan when my sac finally rested right against his skin. "Will," I moaned, letting my demon show.
I tried to be slow and gentle; really, I did, but how could I be? It
was only moments before I was slamming myself deep and hard into him, and
I could hear him grunting, feel him raising his hips hard to meet my every
thrust, and damn, why hadn't we been doing this all along? Oh, yeah, because
he was hurt. But then his fingers dug hard at my ass, and he somehow spread
himself wider, and there wasn't a thing I could do to stop things, or even
slow them down. I growled, low and deep, and drove my teeth hard into his
slim, arching neck, and that was just *it*! My balls drew up tight, my
back arched even harder, and I filled him to overflowing, just as his blood
flowed through my hungry form.
That was just minutes ago, but he won't let me pull away. He's got his arms tight around me, his face is buried in the crook of my neck, and this is a feeling I don't want to lose; not ever. "Stay," he says, and I'll be damned if I'm going anywhere, so I nod, not entirely sure of what all that meant to him. I hold back a sigh when my softened cock slips from his well-used hole, and I can't help smiling when he makes a typical 'Spike' comment about 'round two', but I know he can't see the expression on my face, so it's all right. It's only when I feel his fingers trailing down my back, and then feel both his hands prying my butt cheeks apart that I start to understand exactly what he has in mind.
It's not something I let him do often, back when we were together. In fact, I can count the number of times he's been in the 'driver's seat' on one hand, and I don't think I can let him do this. It isn't right. He's my childe, not the other way around. Still, I have to admit that his fingertip feels pretty damned good, prodding me there, and... "Fuck!" I cry, when he rams that whole damned digit into my ass.
"Don't worry," I hear him say, and the smirk is right there in his voice, "We'll be getting to that." He isn't listening to me now; isn't stopping what he's doing, either, and if he wasn't still injured, we would definitely be having a *big* discussion of just who is in charge here. But he *is* hurt, and...
Okay, I'm not even fooling myself. His finger feels amazing. The second one feels pretty fucking good, too. But it's the third that's got me hard again, because damned if he doesn't know just what he's doing! Which leads me to wonder-- where, exactly, did my boy learn all this, because it for damned sure wasn't from *me*! The demon is raging inside me, because it, apparently, has just figured out that same little fact. My childe's been playing the dom for someone, and Gods help that person if I ever find out who they are.
I'm so busy picturing the many ways I'm going to kill this mystery sub-- and listening to my demon-y half's suggestions-- that I don't even notice him pushing me onto my back until it's too late.
And it *is* too late, because he's straddling my stomach, and I can feel my cum leaking from his ass, onto my skin, and when he starts lubing himself up, I can't manage to make myself stop him. There's such a look of proprietary glee in his eyes that maybe... Maybe he needs to prove to himself that I'm his. Not just his Sire, but his in a way Angelus never was. Maybe he needs to know that he's my equal, and maybe... Maybe I can let him believe that. I'm going to try, anyway.
My hands move to his knees, fingers rubbing softly at his skin, and damn it, I *will* let him do this. I'll let him because he's my childe, and because he's been de-clawed, so to speak. And I'll let him because it's what he needs to truly *heal*-- on the inside. Mostly, though... mostly, I'll let him because it's what *I* need, too.
Still, when he moves to take my leg as I did his, I stop him, and shake my head. I can see the fury building swiftly in his eyes, and I chuckle, letting just a bit of that 'soul-less bastard' come out in the sound. But, "You're not strong enough yet, Will," I say kindly, and before he can let the anger out, I slither out from beneath him, coming to rest in front of him on my hands and knees. "Less strain this way," I explain, looking over my shoulder at him.
His eyes are wide now, and that anger has turned into shock, but my boy was never one to let surprise stop him for long. That hasn't changed, either, because he's already adjusted his mind to the new situation, and when he moves up behind me, his fingers resting lightly on my hips, his voice is strong but soft. "Angel," he says. Just that. Angel.
It makes it easier, somehow, to know that he knows who I am, and I think that's what lets me abandon myself to the sensation of his long, hard cock entering me. He's bigger than he seems, my childe is, because I don't think I can actually take all of him. I do, though, and when he's finally fully sheathed within me? I understand.
I get it; I really do. I know why I only let him do this a few times before. I know why I was almost always the dominant one. It's because I love it.
Oh, not in general. There's nothing within me that cries out for a non-specific cock in my ass. But my entire being, soul and demon both, love this. Spike. William. My boy, my childe, my love of ages. I'm whole when he's in me; just as much as when I'm in *him*. And that scared the shit out of me, back in the day-- so much so that I forced myself to forget.
But this is a different day, now. I'm not the same, and neither is he, and while he may not be my equal-- will *never* be my equal-- he's not exactly my subordinate, either. Hell, he's actually stronger than I am in certain ways, and nothing makes that clearer than the way he's taking me right now.
He's going slowly, smoothly, taking his time. His fingers are clutching rhythmically at my hips, even as he strokes himself deep into me, and Gods! He's *making* *love*! Oh, he'll probably call it 'a slow, comfortable shag', but I know what it is. Gods help me, I know exactly what it is, and I regret just... *fucking* him, all of a sudden. *This* is what it should have been, but I didn't have enough control.
I can't think about it, though, because he's so god damned incredible, and I wish I'd let him do this the way he wanted to. I'd love to see his face right now; look into his eyes. I want to see what he's feeling. "Will," I try to say, but all that comes from my lips is a needy whimper, and his chest is suddenly on my back, and one of his hands has slid around my waist, and when I look down, I can see his fingers wrapping around my cock.
His fist moves faster on my turgid flesh, and he's thrusting harder, deeper into me. I can feel his face shifting against my back, and when his fangs slip beneath my skin? I let him feel everything I haven't been able to say, and his wordless shout accompanies the cool rush of his essence flooding my ass, my own strangled scream flowing from me along with the ribbons of seed he pulls from my gushing cock.
I can't even stay on my knees. It feels like every single drop of strength I ever had was milked from me when I came. I fall forward, into the pillows, my boy falling with me. I can feel him growing soft inside me, and when he slowly, simply, pulls himself away, I sigh. I'm actually disappointed. I feel... empty.
But then he's beside me; I can see him from the corner of my eye. "Sire," he says, and I can hear the awe in his voice, "Thank you..."
I'm honestly surprised that saying those two words didn't kill him, because I'm almost certain that he hasn't said them-- and meant them-- since the night I made him what he is. Still, "No," I say softly, barely above a murmur, "Thank *you*, Will."
He looks stunned, like he can't believe I just said that, and I almost feel badly about shocking him even more, but not quite. I force myself to move onto my side, even though my body wants to do nothing but lay there and bask in the soft pleasure of having had my boy in almost every way possible. I meet his blue-again eyes, and smile slightly as I lift my hand to cup his cheek. I love him. I always have. Soul and demon, both; I *love* him.
And I tell him so, and... This time when he cries, I'm glad I was the one who caused his tears. I know I've just made things immeasurably harder for myself; I know he's going to use it to his advantage, once he's feeling better. I don't care. I love my Will, and... He loves me, too. I can tell, even if he *doesn't* want to say it. He will. Someday.
End