Disclaimer: I don’t own Spike, and I don’t own Angel, although I sure as hell wish I did. Because man, oh man, would that be fun! Meanwhile, I DON’T own, them, and I don’t intend any copyright infringement or offense to either the characters or the actors. I’m just borrowing them. I promise they’ll be cleaned up and put back on the shelf. Really.
Rating: NC-17 for m/m smut, bloodplay, and naughty words.
Sequel to “I See London, I See France”
Summary: After the events in ISLISF, Spike goes to Angel for comfort.
“So…wanna shag?”
Those three little words leave me speechless. I certainly hadn’t expected those words to come from Spike’s mouth. He’s been griping to me about how Xander Harris was a ‘daft ponce’ who was first on his list of “Humans to Kill When the Bloody Chip Comes Out”, and about pig’s blood, and about sunlight and holy water and everything under the moon. I hadn’t said much, unsure of what exactly I should say.
There are several responses I could make. “Shut up, Spike.” “Shut up, Bleached Menace.” “Shut up, Chippy.” “Shut up, Freak.” None seem appropriate. Or I could stake him. Which I don’t really want to do.
So I just look at him.
He keeps whining, drinking from a bottle of what is either bourbon or tar. I think it might be a mixture of both, judging from the rather unique aroma.
Then he asks.
“So…wanna shag?”
What can I say? It isn’t like I don’t want to. That’s never been an issue with me, though I wouldn’t volunteer that information to anyone who didn’t ask. And that I didn’t mind knowing. But seriously, nobody really asked me if I wanted to fuck boys or girls. I’m fine with both. And so is Spike, of course.
So the question is…do I say yes, or do I say no? If I say no, he’ll be angry, and probably leave to go get drunk somewhere. If I say yes, he’ll wrap those arms around my waist, run his hands along my back, slide those cool wet lips across mine, slide his talented tongue into my mouth while one hand presses against my erection, letting me have a preview of wondrous things to come…and come…and come…and what’s the question again?
One look into his deep blue eyes and I remember. It’s spelled out in the darker color of his irises, in the slight smirk of his pale pink lips, in the one eyebrow raised in a question, the open posture of his wantonly spread legs, and I’ve forgotten the question again.
“Well?” he asks, a little impatient. I blink. Why would I pass this up?
I stand, and pull him to his feet quickly, lifting his chin up to press his lips to mine, and they’re cool, but they’re so hot, burning my neglected skin. He moans a little when I plunge my tongue into the richness of his cavernous mouth, and lap at the slight taste of blood lingering there.
I love the little sounds he makes when I’m kissing him. I haven’t actually kissed him in almost one hundred years, but it feels like it never stopped. Like this is normal. Yet, at the same time, it’s completely new. It’s been too long.
His hands reach up and clutch in my hair, which I normally wouldn’t allow. However, since this is Spike, and if I stop him he’ll stop everything else, too, I don’t stop him. I think he does it just because I let him. Because that’s Spike.
I feel that I’m being pushed back, and I know he’s trying to press me into the table. I’m not used to being dominated by Spike. I’m always been the top. He may not be my childe in the technical sense of the word, but he IS my grandchilde. That means I have dominance over him. I hesitate a little bit, before I decide to let this one slide. It feels entirely too good to have him grinding his pelvic bone against my hardening erection, his fingers digging into my hips as he rubs himself against me, the little mewls and purrs he makes deep in his throat, that I don’t want to interrupt him. A warning growl lets him know not to push to far, and he answers with a growl and a hip thrust back.
“Don’t talk back to me, boy,” I pant in his ear as he nibbles on mine.
“Shut up and fuck me,” he growls back, a sharp but blunt bite on my neck. And it feels so very good, but at the same time, I know he shouldn’t do that. So I push him back, so that he lands on the sofa, and I pounce on him, biting his neck with blunt teeth, reclaiming my dominance, and at the same time, making him cry out at the pleasure. Then my mouth finds his once again, and we’re a mass of writhing limbs and teeth and tongues, gyrating on my sofa, still fully clothed.
Until he rips my shirt apart, that is. Luckily for Spike, I’m too caught up in the passion of the moment to notice that he’s just shredded my red silk shirt. Otherwise, I’d be vacumming the rug instead of hoover-ing his nipple through his plain black cotton T-shirt. I snarl and tear his shirt off, planting my mouth on his nipple again, sucking hard while my tongue swirls around and around it.
“God, Xa-Ah! Angel!” he cries out in low moans as my tongue swirls a wandering path to his waistband, and I suddenly know why he’s here. Somehow, Spike, evil soulless vampire with badly bleached hair has fallen in love with the Harris boy. And Harris must have hurt him, somehow. So Spike’s here, to seek comfort, to bask in my love for him, even after all these years and all the horrible things he’s done to me. But at the same time, I realize that it doesn’t matter. Today, I need this as much as he does. So I’ll give him his comfort, and his acceptance, and anything else he needs right now, because I know how it feels to need all of these things and be forced to do without. I don’t want Spike to feel that desolation. So after only a split second of hesitation, where Spike practically holds his unnecessary breath, I continue my journey to his jeans, and deftly unsnap the buttons and the zipper, then push them down his hips, releasing his hard, full cock into the open. I push the jeans all the way down, then undo my own pants and push them off, leaving us both naked on the sofa.
His hand grabs hold of my cock, and he slides a thumb over the weeping head. I hiss between clenched teeth, reeling at the sensation. Spike’s always been very good at what he does. I made sure of that.
I know I can’t wait much longer. It’s been so long since I’ve had anybody, let alone Spike. I bite his neck, stilling us both, and whisper in his ear, “William.”
A shuddering sigh from him. “Sire,” he whimpers, still not moving. He knows the rules. Finally I release my teeth, silent permission for him to move. He rolls over onto his front under me, and pushes himself up on his knees as I watch. The sight of Spike on his hands and knees before you is a sight most people don’t get to see, but it is more beautiful that most things. The white globes of his ass are in front of me, and I reverently run a hand smoothly from the top to the bottom, stopping when I get to his thigh, then run my hand back up. Slowly up and down, moving slightly toward the center with each journey, and Spike is writhing, wanting more. So I’ll give it to him.
I kiss one globe gently, and Spike moans. I kiss it again, closer to his opening. He knows what’s coming, I know, but when my mouth finally finds his puckered ring of muscle, he gasps at the sensation. I lick experimentally, and he thrusts back into my face, pushing my tongue a little deeper. I smile a little, but not to much, because it’s very difficult to rim somebody and smile at the same time. I wiggle my tongue, then push it deeper, then back out, then in again, fucking him with my tongue. Knowing it drives him wild.
“Please,” he murmurs, almost to quiet to hear. Of course, I’m a vampire, so I hear him, and the pleading in his voice, and it almost pushes me over the edge. I kiss my way up his spine, finally resting at his neck, and kiss it wetly before nibbling at it. Then I lean back slightly. Great thing about being a vampire? Blood makes good lube. But not yet.
“Do you want me to fuck you, William?” I ask him. There was a time where I wouldn’t bother to ask. If he didn’t want to, I would rape him, and beat him for his insolence. If he did want to, I’d make sure it hurt, just so that I could hear him scream. But not now. Now, I want him to be sure, I want him to enjoy this.
“Fucking Christ. I’m bent over your damned couch, my arse sticking up in the air, begging you, and you STILL have to ask? What are you, daft?” I slap his ass once to shut him up. He shivers a little.
“Just checking,” I say, before tearing open my wrist. I let the blood dribble into the crease of his ass, and work one finger in and out, working the blood in to make him slippery inside. Then I slide it over my own cock, preparing myself, before gently pushing forward, entering him.
He slams back with a howl, taking all of me inside, and I can’t stand it. It’s so tight, and perfect, and I’ve missed it so much. I start to piston my hips, my fingers digging into his hipbones, needing more contact.
“Fuck, Angel! God!” he cries, grunting with each thrust. I’m sure I’m grunting too, with the force of my hips. I’m pushing into him hard, but not hard enough to hurt him. I’m close, I know. So I lift my hand up, and shove the torn wrist into Spike’s face, letting him see the blood. He doesn’t hesitate before latching his mouth onto my wrist and sucking greedily at the blood there. At the same time, he tilts his head to one side, in a silent offering, and I lean forward, my hips not slowing at all, and bite into his neck. I’m not sure when my vamp face surfaced, but it doesn’t matter as I taste his sweet blood, and I pound into him, and my other hand is around his cock, pulling, stroking, in time with my thrusts and our suckling. The sweet blood slides down my throat as his come slides over my hand, as my come shoots into him, and we’re both letting out loud groans against each other’s skin, and finally, I fall backwards, off of him, pulling out, cock and fangs both. He pants, and sits down, facing me, both of us naked but not embarrassed.
After a moment, he speaks. “I’m in love with him.”
“I know, Spike.”
“He’s in love with someone else.”
“I’m sorry.” And that’s all I can say.
