Never The Heart
Title: Never The Heart
Author: PokerKitten
Setting: 1880
Adapted from a chapter of Old Times
Smut_69 challenge prompt word: #49 Heart
My Smut Table
Disclaimer: Joss, ME, Fox yadayada own the characters; I'm just messin'.
Never The Heart
The girls were dressed in their finest and out on the town, looking for fun and food. It seemed to be increasingly the way, these past few weeks. He had considered joining them, but his restless sleep had left him feeling out of sorts and there was business here to attend to. Disturbing dreams to overcome, subdue. And so, breeches and boots in place but immaculately white cotton shirt hanging loose and open, he had made his excuses and wished them good hunting. Before quietly slipping into the chamber where William still slept. Somewhat like in his darkest dream. Pale, naked, stretched out on his back atop a comfortable pile of bedclothes. Vulnerable, yet deadly.
In the dream, as now, Angelus was drawn to the bedside, raking his fingers though his hair, trying to decide; feeling his desire grow. Kill him now! Or, as in his dream, give in to the pull in the pit of his stomach, the ache in his groin, the dizziness in his head.
But never to the tug in his heart… Never that!
Drusilla had left one small lamp burning in the otherwise heavily drapes-darkened room. It cast a flattering, seductive light… Angelus stifled a groan, kept it lodged in his throat, as his cock made his decision for him. Unbuttoning in haste, he loomed over his sleeping apprentice, sliding his breeches back down over his buttocks, enjoying the feel of his own determined fingers on his cheeks, before cautiously moving to kneel on the soft bed.
William did not stir, not even as the mattress dipped under his grandsire’s weight or as Angelus’ phallus brushed against his calf as he moved in closer. Nor did he show any signs of wakefulness as Angelus reached across him for a pillow, or when he eased it under his narrow hips.
But when his legs were gently parted, was he still unaware? When the usually violent and cruel fingers stroked and danced their way up from ankle to thigh; when his knees were bent and legs carefully draped over strong, muscular shoulders; when the oft-times vicious tongue slowly licked the full length of his thickening, twitching cock, tickled his balls, trailed down to his entrance and made it slick with saliva… He had to wake then, surely?
And yet still William made no movement, no sound.
Until Angelus lowered his weight down onto him, adjusted the position of the lad’s hips just a little, guided his now straining cock to the hole only he had ever fully explored. And pushed, slowly at first. Pushed again, more insistently. And entered, groan at last released from his throat.
Only then did William show any signs of life, unlife. Eyes opening wide, legs winding tightly round Angelus’ neck, body rocking as each thrust penetrated him deeper than the last. Limbs urging Angelus down closer until skin and cotton grazed his chest. Hands clasping his head, mouth parting hungrily, his tongue eagerly forcing a penetration of its own.
Angelus had no will to fight the kiss. Instead he thrust harder, faster, knowing from their previous tumbles that he was reaching the place that sent William into spasms of pleasure, caused him to roar and fiercely dig his elegant poet’s fingers into Angelus’ flesh. Pleasuring the boy had not been his intention the first time he'd taken him. Or so he had told himself. Asserting his dominance, owning him utterly, subjugating him to his will had been his purpose. How swiftly this aim had shifted…
WILLIAM! his mind screamed as he felt his balls tighten, pull.
“Spike. My name is Spike. Call me Spike!” William gasped, before dragging Angelus’ fist down between them to his own aching cock.
In his nightmare, as they had reached their noisy, messy climax, William had suddenly plunged a sharp wooden stake deep into his back, forcing it through to his heart, causing him to fragment and fall away before he had the slightest chance to respond. His dangerous obsession, his lust, undoing him utterly.
But now, as he heard himself yell “Spike!” into his lover’s open mouth with the headlong rush to ejaculation, the boy just laughed gleefully and clutched him to his breast more greedily than ever…
Never The Heart
Spangelus!
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