DISCLAIMER: I am not Joss.
RATING: NC-17-ish
PAIRING: S/A
DISTRIBUTION: anyone I've said yes to, and my site.
FEEDBACK: please...
DEDICATIONS: to Jeannette, of course, for the site and updates... to Nat, for the graphics. Also, to those who are enjoying my little foray into the slash-y side of life.
NOTES: okay, this series started at the end of the ep where Glory beat merry hell out of Spikey. In my world, 'Epiphany' happened around the same time. THIS is the last part of this series, and takes place about five months or so after the previous part.* *= emphasis.
WARNING: CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR S:3 ANGEL, through the end of ep. 2...
POV: unlike earlier parts, this one alternates between the POVs of Angel and Spike.
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Angel:
He still amazes me. I don't know why I'm surprised by that, but I am. I mean, he had me completely wild for him from almost the moment I turned him, so why is it such a shock that I'm still awed after only five short months?
It is, though. A shock. The best kind. I think it's because he's so different now from how I remember him.
Time was, my boy was quite the arrogant little prick. I still loved him, though... or as much as I *could*, anyway. He made me crazy, and hungry, and desperate for his tight, cool little ass more often than I'd ever admit out loud. I always knew, though. There was just... something about him.
Whatever it was, he's still got it, too. But he's a different demon these days, what with that chip and all. He's just as strong, and just as vicious when the need takes him, but... He loves me. He loves *me*. Angel. The soul.
So, five months of fucking, and feeding, and making love, and I *know* he hates the bottled blood; mostly because of the face he pulls whenever he drinks it. Still, I make sure to supplement that with my own, so I suppose he's satisfied enough.
And so am I. I'm kind of glad that we've calmed down a bit lately, though.
I mean, I wasn't getting much work done for the Powers, what with the way
we were always going at it. Not that we don't still spend a lot of time...
well, in my boy's words, shagging, but...
Damn, he's beautiful. He's just standing there in the bathroom doorway, with that small black towel draped around his hips. A small smirk is on his lips, growing deeper while his eyes burn my skin. I should have gotten up when he went to shower, but I wasn't quite ready to leave the smell of Spike-- Will-- in our bed, and now...?
Well, now he's stalking towards me, and that towel is slipping slowly down his pale, smooth skin, and I'll be damned if I'm going anywhere. "Hey," I say, as eloquent as ever, and the sound of his deep, dark chuckle just... kills me.
It doesn't matter, though, because I was already dead, wasn't I?
Spike:
He's still a great sodding pouf. Hell, that much is obvious just from the way the wanker was sniffing at my pillow when I came into the room. Doesn't mean the sight of him there waiting for me isn't bloody arousing, does it?
I almost expected him to be up and dressed already, but I'm definitely glad he's not. All that hot water, and that frou-frou bath gel he loves so much, have me pretty damned ready to have a go at some Sire-tail. And I will, but first...
Bloody fucking hell, he looks good enough to eat, and I mean that literally. The dark sheet is just barely covering his lap, and if he really thinks it's hiding anything, then he doesn't realize just how good my eyes are.
So I smirk, and move swiftly towards our bed, deliberately twitching just enough that my towel starts slipping, and obviously, I haven't lost my touch, because the Brooding Wonder-- the one vampire in all the land who is known far and wide for his lengthy soliloquies-- can only mumble 'Hey.'
I can't help but laugh, although, when he groans quietly in response, my amusement just dries right up. "Angel," I say, crawling onto the mattress.
Angel:
I love it when he says my name. Every single time is like an affirmation of the bond we share, and I don't mean that Sire/Childe bond the Watchers are always going on about. No, hearing my name falling from his lips always takes me back to that night. That night when he said it. He loves me. The memory alone has me hard as a fucking rock, most days, but damned if I'll ever tell *him* that. He already has enough power over me.
I could try to deny it, but it's the truth. I'm just as much his as he is mine, and there's something unquestionably right about that. "William," I finally reply, my fingers tangling with his when he stops beside me.
My other hand rests gently on his knee for just an instant before sliding up his thigh and under that towel that I almost envy. Still, *it* won't be buried deep inside my boy anytime soon, so I don't tear it to shreds; I just move my hand beneath it until it falls away, and I don't care *how* long I live, I'll never get tired of seeing him in his full splendor. "Will," I say again, and I don't care that he can hear the need in my voice. He's the one who put it there, after all.
Spike:
Oh, yeah, the poncy git wants me, all right. His hand's just wrapped around my cock, so I think it's a pretty fair assumption. Still, he's not the only one with anxious, needy digits, so I yank that sheet from over his hips, and fuck me if he isn't even *more* fucking gorgeous without it.
He thinks I don't know how much he likes it when I call him Angel. Just goes to show that the ponce don't know everything, don't it? 'Cause I'm well aware of how his cock jumps when that one simple word leaves my lips. That's why I say it again, after all.
"Angel," I murmur, but it comes out as more of a groan, because he's stroking me hard. I can't just sit here and take it, though; not when I've been pulsing and ready since before I came out of the bathroom. So I shift a bit, moving my legs up by his head, and I lean in. Next thing I know, I've got my mouth full of thick, hard cock.
Of course, it's my Sire's cock, so that's just fine. That was the plan, after all. Suck him off, swallow him down, shag that tight, peasant-y ass for a while. Yeah, that's *exactly* what's gonna...
My eyes widen, and my fingers dig into his skin when I feel his wet, overly-talented lips stretching around me, because... in all these months, we've never done each other at the same time. With our mouths, I mean. Don't know why not, though; hell, we've done just about everything else, right? Still, this is a first for us, by which I mean me and *Angel*.
Angelus and I did this sort of thing all the time, but... it wasn't the same. Nothing was the same. Just took me a bit to realize it.
But fuck if I want to think, because...
Angel:
Gods, he's fucking amazing! And feeling his mouth around me while I have him deep in my throat just... floors me. His teeth are scraping lightly against my shaft, and when he sucks up on me, he nibbles at my foreskin, pulling it back just enough that he can flick my seeping slit with his tongue.
I try my damnedest to imitate those actions on *his* cock, but I've never been as good with my mouth as my boy; probably never will be, either. He's a gods-damned *maestro*!
Still, as good as his lips are, it's his slightly jagged nails scratching roughly at my sac that truly has me panting around his long shaft, and when I feel him drawing blood?
"William!" I try to shout, but it comes out sounding like nothing more than an odd whimpering growl, what with as full as my mouth is. That's fine, though, because I know he knows what I was trying to say, even as I arch deep into his throat and spill what feels like buckets of seed into him.
Spike:
Yeah, the pouf still goes for a bit of pain. I knew that would do it. Hell, he's so fucking easy, it'd be funny if I didn't love him so much. Still, I keep thrusting my hips into his face while I suck him down.
I'd love to just fucking cum, but that's not the plan, is it? It actually takes me a while to remember what is, but I do, so I let his softening cock slip from between my lips, and I actually have to fight him for a second or two to get my own cock back. "Angel," I groan quietly, "*Please*..." It's the 'please' that gets to him, but then again, it always is.
So he relaxes his lips, and lets me pull away, and I guess he knows the plan after all, because he's suddenly pulled our latest tube of lubricant from beneath his pillow. I almost think he has a plan of his own, but then I remember. That's where we put it last night.
It's that memory that has me all hot and bothered again, and I can't help smirking wickedly into his hot gold-tinged eyes as I shift a bit, my hard cock rubbing slightly against his softer one. "On your knees, Peaches," I demand, and fuck me if he isn't there almost before I've finished speaking.
I rise to my knees behind him, and I know he's watching me over his shoulder, but why the fuck would I care about that? The tube is much less full by the time I finish coating my hand, and when I meet his eyes, he's wearing a look of... fear and anticipation, but that's fine, too. Sodding bugger likes to pretend he doesn't enjoy this, but I know he does; that's why the fear, *and* the anticipation.
Angel:
Shit. Just... shit. I know what he wants to do now. What's worse, I can't seem to make myself stop him, even though the last time he did it, I ended up bleeding for almost an entire day. Not that blood is an issue, but... I can't even imagine what I'm going to tell Wes and Cordy when I can't go out fighting later. It's hard to be threatening to demons when they can smell your asshole bleeding. It usually makes them laugh, if their reaction the last time is any indication.
Still, he's my lover, and my love, and... Oh, Gods! Did I mention that i liked it before, despite... well, maybe because of, the pain? I did. It was... unreal.
Okay, so it *felt* unreal, but I guess it was very, *very* actual, because he's got one long, elegant finger sliding into me, and it's only moments before I feel another, and another, and... *Fuck*! There's the fourth...
He's got them clumped together, though, which isn't bad... isn't bad
at all. And he's... *Gods*! He's being so much more gentle than I remember,
twisting his hand, spreading those long, slender digits slowly inside me.
This isn't what I was expecting, after all, and I can't help groaning loudly,
and pressing back hard into his touch.
Spike:
Jesus-fuck, my Sire's one hot fucking pouf. I almost can't believe he's acting this way, especially after the last time. But that was my fault. I was so caught up in the sensation, myself, that I forgot just how much of a fucking virgin he is. Was, rather.
Still, it's all I can do not to cum as I watch myself thrusting my hand inside that tight, firm ass of his.
It takes a few minutes, but... Bloody hell, there goes my thumb, joining the rest of my fingers, and damned if I'm gonna stop now, so I press in a little more, finally drawing back. Think the pouf's loose enough-- relaxed enough-- now.
A bit of work, keeping the pressure steady and true, and I'm able to clench that hand as it slides into him again, and I can't keep my other hand from my cock while I watch his incredibly stretched anus twitching around my wrist. "Angel," I growl, and I know my eyes are gold now, but that's all right, because... my Sire's rocking back, trying to take me deeper, and how could I *not* be all demon-y at a time like this?
Can't let him think he's in charge, though, so I force myself to let my cock go, and I close my fingers roughly on his hip. "Hold still, you sodding git," I snarl, and I could laugh when he obeys me. I could. Don't, though. No, instead I watch my forearm disappear almost to the halfway point, and fuck if my Sire isn't taking it without a word of complaint. Hell, when I pull back, and slide deep inside him again, he *still* isn't complaining.
Good thing my hands aren't as big as his, though, 'cause... that would
*hurt*!
Angel:
"Gahhhhnnnnn..."
What the hell? Did that sound really just come from me? Hell, it wasn't even a *word*! Of course, it's not every day that I have my childe's *fist* up my *ass*, but 'Gahhhhnnnn?' What the fuck is *that*? I could almost curse myself out loud for having so little control where Will is concerned, but... Out loud doesn't seem to be working for me right now.
"Uhhhhnnnngggggg..." And there I go again.
Gods, my boy is... *Fuck*!
Spike:
And Spike hits gold! I knew I could do it, even if I'm *not* used to searching for that special spot with my whole fucking hand. I recognized it immediately, though, just by the way Chatty Vampy here got all non-verbal.
So I twist my wrist some more, brushing my knuckles against that place inside him, and I've never actually heard the poncy wanker make those sounds before. It's music to my ears, though. Hell, I even like it when his sphincter tightens so much I can't move a fraction of an inch without tearing him apart.
His face is down on the mattress, that firm ass waggling in the air as he shifts a bit, and I can tell he's trying for more contact against that sometimes elusive location, and fuck me if I'm not gonna let him have it. So I lean in close, my wrist still trapped inside him. "Hush... hush, love," I murmur against his spine, "You're too tense. Just... let it happen..."
I can hear him sucking in great lungfuls of air, even though he doesn't need them, and I slowly, simply lick at his skin, and the taste of Angel is almost more than I can take. I don't stop, though. I just keep talking in soothing tones, and when he becomes less frantic, I start moving my hand again. Doesn't take long before he's grunting wildly, and all it takes is one last twist, the back of my hand pressed hard against the proper place inside him.
His back arches, and he screams my name, and I can smell him cumming all over the sheets. Air is leaving him in loud, sobbing gusts, but when I try to pull my hand from him, he hisses 'No'.
"I have to, pet," I tell him, because I know exactly why he wants me to stay there. I'm proven right when the sensation of my fist vacating his hole has him hard as a fucking rock again.
So I press my self down on his back again, and whisper softly to him.
Angel:
Oh... oh, Gods... Will just... I mean, he... and I loved it.
That's the part that's really scaring me now. It started out so much like the last time, and the only reason I didn't stop him was because it seemed to mean so much to him, but... I loved it!
Still, there's something missing, and I'm almost entirely convinced that it's... Oh, shit! I miss his cum leaking from me? How is that even possible?
It's a stupid question, of course, because I'm used to his seed soothing my aching anus when we make love, or have sex... even when we just fuck. So, yes. I miss his cum.
It takes me a few minutes to recover from the knowledge that I'm actually
perverted enough to enjoy having his fist in my ass, but I do, eventually,
and he's been very patient. He's against my back, but he's holding himself
up, too, so I glance over my shoulder and catch his glowing yellow eyes.
"Will," I try to say, but the word catches in my throat.
Spike:
Okay, and now he's got me worried, because the blighter hasn't said word one, other than whatever that was that just snuck past his lips. "Angel," I say softly, my hand rubbing slowly up and down his side, "You okay, baby?" I can barely keep from sighing when Poncy the Wonder-Git just nods at me. "What's wrong, then?"
I actually laugh when he tells me what his problem is, but he looks
so bloody disturbed, I can't keep on with it. My chuckle dies out, and
I nod in return. "I think we can do that, love," I tell him, and I know
I'm lying, but so what? 'Cause somewhere between the sucking and the fisting
my plan changed. Oh, I'm still gonna shag the pouf into the bed, but...
not just yet. First, I'm gonna...
Angel:
Well, at least he didn't laugh for long, and he knows what I want... what I need. He's not trying to make me feel like an idiot for it, either, which is somewhat... worrisome. But when he pushes me down, and makes me roll onto my back, I know he understands in a way.
His fingers wrap around my cock, and he strokes me almost gently, and it's not until I feel the slick residue on his palm that I realize he's using the same hand that was just inside me. Then he strokes me again, and I don't care. "Will," I groan, eyes closing.
I guess that's what the lying sack of shit was waiting for, too, because as soon as I'm not looking at him, he flings one leg over me, and next thing I know? I'm buried balls-deep in his tight little ass. The fucking prick lied to me!
He starts moving before I can quite form the words to stop him, though, and... Gods, he's riding me like a prize stallion, and... *Fuck*!
My fingers dig hard into his upper arms, and i just know he's going to have finger-shaped bruises there, but I don't give a shit. My boy lied to me; he deserves more than a few bruises for that. Still, that tight, pale ass of his feels pretty damned good.
I let him go to town for a little while, using my body as his toy, and when he starts grunting and whimpering, I know he's close. That's when I let go of his arm and grab tightly at the base of his cock.
He growls out a deprived, anguished moan, even as I slam myself up into
him, pumping him full of thick, milky seed.
Spike:
Bloody fucking bastard! Gets his rocks off, but don't wanna take care of his 'William'? What the fuck kind of 'loving Sire' is that?
I'm still growling when he lifts me from his softening cock, and I'll be damned if I'm gonna let him touch me for a long damned time after this... and that's his asshole.
He's pulled me down flush on his body, and his legs are spread wide, and... Jesus-fuck! I can feel that tight, still-slick opening, 'cause that's where the tip of my cock is resting. Guess Broody didn't appreciate the change of venue as much as i thought he would.
His eyes are hot, and locked on mine, and if I didn't know any better, I'd say that look he's wearing is a warning. It's not necessary, though, what with me still being all hard and throbbing, thanks to the fucking prat.
"Fine," I tell him, rolling my eyes as I slam myself deep into his perfect ass.
* * * * *
Angel:
So, okay, I got a little bit Angelus-y on him. Is that any reason to sit and sulk? Well, maybe it is, because that's exactly what he's doing. He's sitting there across the lobby, in that chair he likes so much, and he's fucking sulking! He won't even look at me, except from the corner of his eye, and it's making me insane.
I'm entirely glad that Wes and Cordy have gone home, though, because they weren't even a little bit reluctant to blame me for 'whatever the hell I did to Spike'. They've come to like him in the last little while; they think of him as a friend, and I guess I can't blame them for that. Still, why did they go and assume I'd *done* something? Like that would be the only reason my boy would be quiet... Okay, so they have a point. I *did* do something. I made my lover fuck me. Big deal.
I'm about a second away from beating the crap out of him until he perks up again, but that's when I feel it, and it completely derails that particular train of thought.
Just as Spike can sense me through our bond of blood, *I* can sense *her*. My grand childe. My Sire-that-was.
My eyes fly to the lobby doors, and I'm completely unsurprised when
she strolls in moments later. What *does* surprise me, though, is the fact
that she appears to be...
Spike:
The ponce is just too damned easy. All I've done is sit here and speak listlessly to Wussy and the cheerleader, and he's all regret-boy again. And maybe it's mean to be treating him this way, but fuck all, I'm still a vampire, right?
Honestly, I didn't mind taking his ass roughly like I did, but fuck if I'm gonna tell *him* that. Shit, if I play this little scene right? Might be a carton of smokes in it for me. Or a spot of nice, bloody violence, if the way he's looking at me now means anything.
And what the fuck? The rat-bastard looks distracted all of a sudden. 'Course, I get why when the door opens, and... "Fucking *bitch*!"
I didn't mean to actually say that out loud, but I obviously did, because the blonde bint is glaring at me like I'm supposed to give a shit. "Lost your way, Darla?" I ask her, "Because you sure as hell don't belong *here*." This cunt tried to steal my Sire from me. She took him away, and it's her fault that we spent all those years apart and aching. It's her fault... and I owe her, which really fucking pisses me off. After all, if she hadn't been such a possessive, nasty little tramp of a vampire, my Sire wouldn't have ended up with a soul, and... I wouldn't have Angel. Wouldn't be spending my days in his bed, and my nights in his heart. I bloody well *hate* owing the cunt *anything*, and I sneer as i give her a contemptuous once-over.
That's when I notice something... disturbing. "Bloody hell," I laugh, "And don't *you* look like you've swallowed a bowling ball!" She looks absolutely ridiculous.
"I'm *pregnant*, you moron," she says in that squeaky little voice of hers that so many seem to find sexy. Her eyes light up triumphantly, and she turns her gaze to my Sire. "And you're the father," she tells him, and... How can this be possible? It can't.
"Yeah," I say smugly, because she has to be lying, "'Cause vampires are so very fertile." And then another thought occurs to me, and I laugh at her loudly. "And even if you *are* breeding, I don't think it takes over a century; does it, now?"
I don't give a flying fuck about whatever she's trying to do; don't care if she walks into the sun first thing when it rises. All I care about right at the moment is the fact that... she's a threat. She had some sort of hold over Peaches, even back at the start, and now she's trying to get it back, and... I can't let that happen.
"Angelus," she purrs, her eyes still on the pouf, "You didn't tell your childe about us?"
And quick as that, I'm nothing, because he doesn't even look at me.
Angel:
This can't be happening. Darla can't be here, and she can't be pregnant, and it can't be mine, and she *can't* be *pregnant*! She's not human; she's *dead*, and I don't know what her game is, but...
Oh, shit. Spike looks so... broken. I barely heard her words, but he was obviously listening, and... No. I *didn't* tell him about that night. I didn't see the point; it's not like it mattered to me. I was cold, and desperate, and just needed... contact. She was there. That's all it was.
I want to tell him that; want to make it clear to him that he's the one I care about. The only one I love this way, but... some part of him believes her; I can tell. There's a part of him that truly believes she's carrying my child, and... "No," I say, and I know my voice is colder than ice, but that's how I feel suddenly. I could lose him because of her, and that's not something I'm prepared to face.
"No... what?" she says, and I can't help wondering why I ever wanted her that night I followed her into that alley and into this existence. Then my eyes rest on Spike. Will. My childe, my love... my boy. And I know.
"No, all of it." I say, still watching the blond I actually *care* about. "No, I didn't tell him. No, you're not pregnant, and No-- even if you are, it isn't mine." She looks like I just slapped her with a dead fish, but I don't care, because my Will still isn't looking at me. "Just... *no*." I finish.
I don't think she knows what to make of that, because her voice is suddenly soft and puzzled. "But..." she says, before stopping for a moment. "I... I thought you *wanted*..." And I know just what she's going to say.
"No," I tell her again. "Maybe when I was human I wanted children; I
really don't remember. But I'm *not* human, Darla, and neither are you.
I *have* a childe, and he means more to me than you *ever* did. More than
you ever *could*." I smile reassuringly when my boy's bright blue eyes
finally rise from the floor to meet mine, and I nod seriously. "I love
my childe," I murmur, just loud enough for the both of them to hear me,
"And I have no use for you, or for whatever it is you've got stuffed up
your shirt."
Spike:
I knew he loved me, but it's one thing to hear him admit it in the privacy of our own room. It's something else entirely to have him say it like this, and once again i find myself in the sad fucking position of being in debt to fucking Darla! Doesn't stop me from smirking at her, though.
I don't know what her plan is, what kind of agenda she's got going, but one thing is for bloody certain. Angel isn't gonna let the nasty little bitch come between us.
"You *bastard*," she shrieks, catching us both by surprise when she runs at my not-so-broody Sire.
I'm truly shocked by the speed with which he pulls the stake from his back pocket. I'm even more fucking surprised by his aim, because it flies across the few feet separating them, and sinks deep into the spot where anyone else would have a heart. "Angelus..." she cries, even as she crumples to dust.
Less than a second passes before his arms are tight around me, and I
can't do anything but press my face to his neck and just... breathe him
in. My Sire. My lover. My world. "Love you, Angel," I tell him quietly,
not making him pull it from me for once, and he only holds me harder.
Angel:
I seem to spend an awful lot of time killing Darla. For blondes. First Buffy; now my Will. I guess that should bother me, but somehow...? With my boy in my arms, and his hands on my back; his softly spoken admission ringing in my ears? I almost wish I could do it again, just so he could watch it once more. "Love you, too, Will," I tell him, my lips against his ear.
He could have decided to leave me tonight, over the secret I kept, but he's still here, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let him go anywhere without me. Ever.
But we've never been very good with words, my boy and I, so I can say only one thing to make my position perfectly clear to him. "Let's go back to bed."
He laughs and pulls away, smirking up at me with his big blue eyes sparkling. It's probably from seeing the woman he's hated from day one turn to dust, but I'm going to pretend it's just for me. "Race you, you big pouf," he says, still laughing as he dashes towards the stairs.
I'm the one laughing just moments later, though, because he's tripped over something on the floor, and I've never seen him sprawled out so gracelessly.
"What the fuck?" he demands, poking at the thing he fell over, "What in the hell is *that*?
I move to his side, and crouch down, giving the thing a poke or two myself before laughing even harder. "It... it's a *belly*!" I manage to say. He still looks confused, though, so I force myself to calm down a bit, and I pick the thing up, even as i help my boy to his feet. My arm wraps around his shoulders, and I steer him up the stairs, explaining the concept of a fake belly made to imitate pregnancy. Cordelia told me about it a while back, after an audition she was thrilled to have done badly at.
I don't suppose we'll ever know what Darla hoped to accomplish, but
frankly, I don't care. I have my soul, I have my boy, and I have his love.
I couldn't possibly want anything more.
Spike:
A belly, he says, like that explains it. Still, I guess it does, even if the thing *did* make Darla look like she stole it from one of the dancing hippos in Fantasia... It sends out great billows of foul-smelling smoke when I toss it in the fireplace, but...
Oh... Peaches is mad now. Doesn't like it that I stank up his nice, clean hotel with the smell of burning... whatever the fuck the thing's made of, and... oh...
No, poufy, no... *please* don't punish me by making me suck your cock, 'cause we know how much I *hate* doing that...
Wonder what *else* I can burn...?
End.
End Series.