Old Times

Title: Old Times
Author: PokerKitten
Summary: This one started out life in late 2002 as "Angel Always Knows" but hit the buffers for a long time. I tried to resurrect and rework it in 2004, as a response to the 15 Minute Fic weekly challenge, keyword “competition”, which I then was asked to continue. Being perverse, I stuck to some of the original rules of the challenge (eg 15 minute instalments). One of these days it may reach its conclusion :p
Setting, BtVS S2. Spike is in the wheelchair, Angelus is back on the scene.
Picture credit: Setje, who originally made me an icon version of this for LJ entries :-*
Disclaimer: Joss, ME, Fox and yadayada own these characters. I'm just messin'.

***

Old Times #1

Drusilla had helped him into bed, as usual, which was humiliating in a way. But they had made the morning ritual into something of a game; a sexy little game of nip and tease and lick and probe and bite… He may be taking much longer to mend than he possibly could have feared, he still may have little or no feeling in his lower body, but he did know how to pleasure his girl. But he wasn’t so sure of how long this would be enough for his wayward black princess. Especially with her sire back on the scene, relishing every opportunity that came his way to smile and insinuate and touch…

Spike stirred uneasily in his sleep, a frown etched into his forehead. But the bed was comfortable and warm - he had never lost the taste for the simple human pleasures - and the frown soon faded. His dreams turned to happier times with Dru; to vivid images, sensations, of her mouth on his, of her snuggling up against him. Naked and cool and hard and beautiful. And of the exquisite pleasure he took in pushing his way inside her, cock large and insistent… The cock that no longer functioned properly.

“Please…” he whispered as he slept.

Please let me mend, please let me be strong again, please let her love me…

Was it the fingers stroking his face, or the feeling of the covers being lifted from his chest, that woke him? He was dimly aware of both, and emerging from his dream of being buried deep inside Drusilla, it was her laughing face, her delicate fingers he was expecting to see.

“Rise and shine my boy” Angelus grinned, as Spike’s eyes flew open, wide with shock. “Oh, you can’t, can you” he added, with a malicious glint.

“What the beeding hell do you…?” Spike began to shout, trying to lever himself up into a sitting position with arms that were still good and strong. Glancing down to find that all the bedcoverings had been removed.

“Ssshhh, ssshh, don’t want the little lady to find us like this now, do we?” Angelus mocked, grabbing Spike by the hips and easily pulling him back down again.

Straddling the naked, ivory white lad felt surprisingly good, he discovered. He’d almost forgotten, over the decades… He raised an eyebrow in interest and humour, and stored the sensations and memories away for future reference.

“What the bleeding hell do you think you’re doing” Spike repeated, but in a low angry whisper this time.
“It’s not even a contest, is it?” Angelus smirked at him, and slowly ground his groin down onto Spike’s flaccid member.

“What the fuck!” Spike lashed out at him as best he could, and even from his prone position was able to send Angelus flying backwards.

This only served to amuse the Irishman more. “Just consider this your wake-up call Spike” he laughed, picking himself up and leaning over him. Casually reaching down and gathering up the younger vampire’s balls in one hand, he squeezed. “Not much going on down there, huh? Not to worry” he chuckled, moving off, swaggering a little as he went. Before turning back and blowing him a kiss. “Dru may be flighty, but me? I can be very… patient.”

Spike could hear Angelus’ high-pitched laughter echoing around the factory as he lay there, dignity bruised, mind-racing.

But when the bog-trotting bastard had squeezed him, he actually had felt something down there, however vague. For the first time in a long time.

***

Old Times #2

Angelus ambled over, bent down towards him, and brought the reality of his vulnerability crashing back over him once more. Lips against Spike’s ear, he whispered “Too bad you can't come with, huh? I'll be thinkin' of you.” Full of unspoken hints and vague threats.

‘I’ll be thinkin’ of you...’ Fucking hell! He really didn’t want Angelus thinking about him. At all. In any way! Spike narrowed his eyes. Did he? “I won't be in this chair forever” he warned.

But Angelus was already taking Drusilla's hand and leading her out in pursuit of The Judge. Goddamnit, he hated this! This had been his plan – well, Dru’s at any rate – and he was being left here, cut out, cut off. He couldn’t let them go without a little jibe of some sort. “What happens if your girlfriend shows up?” he called after them.

But as cocky and arrogant as ever, Angelus just flung back “I'm gonna give her a kiss.”

Yeah, right! But Spike took no great pleasure from his growing belief that the little chit was much more likely to string Angelus up by the balls. He wouldn’t be there to see it. He was being left behind like a useless pet. He was losing his status, his power, maybe even his girl, and Angelus was going to rub his nose in it any and every chance he got…

* * *

… and in ways he had not cared to imagine. Dozing in his chair when Angelus came crashing back into the factory hours later - lashing out at girders, kicking at crates and boxes as he approached - Spike was instantly wide awake. It hadn’t gone to plan then, he thought, permitting himself a satisfied smirk, quickly smothered as Angelus thundered across the room and loomed over him.

“Don’t. Say. A. Word!” he glowered down at Spike, eyes black and hard.

But Spike had never really known when to keep quiet around his grandsire. “Went the day well?” he quipped, but suddenly realising that Dru had not returned with the big lug. “Where is she? Where’s Dru?”

“She’s not here?” Angelus had thought she would have told Spike everything already, every last little detail of how the game had blown up in their faces. How The Judge had blown up in their faces, infact! Although at least he would have been spared Spike’s crowing over Buffy whupping his ass……. or more correctly, delivering a devastatingly painful blow to his genitals. Dru hadn’t hung around to witness that little treat.

He slowly rubbed at himself. Not so tender now. “She’s okay.” He dismissed Spike’s concerns, still absently applying pressure to his cock and balls. Yeah, he was just fine now. Silly little bitch! Couldn’t do it, could she?! “She just couldn’t kill me” he grinned, mood swinging round like a weather vane on a blustery day.

Spike cautiously began to reverse out of striking range, although the mad Irishman did seem to be calming down now. Well, playing with yourself was one way to deal with defeat. Didn’t mean he had to hang around to witness it though!

“Where you going, roller boy?!” Angelus drawled, still grinning, advancing a step or two.

“Looked like you needed some… uh, private time.”

“You think?” Angelus reached out, grasped the arms of Spike’s chair, bringing him to an abrupt halt. Leaning over him, almost brow to brow. “Oh, I don’t know. I took a little… damage earlier. Should maybe have a trial run, make sure everything’s still in good working order.”

Spike was on the point of snarking out that it looked like he was doing just that already when an image filled his brain, of Angelus hovering over him in bed, seeming to enjoy the proximity to his naked, vulnerable body just a little too much. The memory stole his words, leaving his mouth dry, his lips parted a little as for once he choked back his response.

“That’s a good look for you” Angelus whispered, eyes twinkling. “Wide-eyed, pouty. But best of all, silent.” Slowly he rubbed his nose against Spike’s, an Eskimo’s kiss, laughing softly as he sensed Spike’s shoulders and neck stiffen at his touch. “You always had such a mouth on you, boy. Such a mouth…” he murmured again, gently brushing his lips against the other man’s. Unexpectedly soft. And full.

He was enjoying this, the power he had over the one-time young buck, and the reactions of his own body to that dominance. As Spike’s whole being seemed to jerk away from him - but confined and helpless in his chair it was a futile gesture – Angelus was amused and intrigued. His fully recovered member stirred happily in his pants, shifting and twitching against the leather. Having Spike’s full lips slide over his cockhead and down his shaft as he unwillingly took him into his mouth, now that would be power indeed. And fun! Just like old times....

Old Times #3

“Don’t even think about it, mate!” Spike growled, planting his palms on Angelus’ chest, trying to push him back. This felt so unlike any of their power games in the past, in his reckless youth. And yet…

He remembered oh so clearly their first meeting; the excitement, the sense of danger. The powerful and conflicting emotions. Their hands thrust into the sunlight, the pain and the perverse thrill. The glint in Angelus’ eye as he assessed William…. He had had so much to learn and Angelus had been the man to tutor him.

Angelus barely swayed backwards when Spike shoved him, firmly holding his ground instead and unzipping himself in almost leisurely fashion. Unconfined, Angelus’ cock bounced cheerfully to life, responding enthusiastically to its master’s one handed caress. Aaaah, that was more like it! “All better now” he cooed, with a faraway expression.

Spike looked away, shaking his head to dislodge old memories and fresh absurdities. He was contemplating just rolling right over the bastard exhibitionist and leaving him to it when Angelus struck. A hard, flat, backhanded slap across the cheek. Just to refocus Spike’s attention.

But then steely fingers curled into the hair at the nape of his neck, forcing his head forward to meet Angelus’ straining phallus. ‘You know, if that’s all I had to show off I wouldn’t be so bloody quick to wave it around’ Spike thought darkly, choosing not to voice his opinions and keeping his mouth firmly clamped shut. And wisely choosing not to dwell on his own inactive cock.

Angelus tightened his grip and slowly, forcefully, began to rub the tip of his erection against Spike’s now dry lips.

‘Oh, enough is bleeding well enough!’ Spike risked meeting his grandsire’s eyes and with as detached and cold an expression as possible, slapped away the offensive organ using the same technique as Angelus had on his face. ‘Although the fucker will probably get off on that, mood he’s in.’

Angelus looked momentarily shocked, but wasn’t about to let a damaged, impotent Spike get the better of him. “Oh come on now boy! A little co-operation and you might just enjoy it!”

“You really think? Oh right! So, you’d really trust me not to take a nice big juicy…dismembering… bite?”

Angelus moved in close, his all too physically evident pleasure in their exchanges standing between them. “You so much as graze me... this time” he smirked lasciviously, darting out his tongue to flick at Spike’s ear, feeding on his grimace of distaste. But the emotional weather vane swung again in the next instant, the teasing humour vanishing. Catching Spike’s head between his hands, grip hard and tight as a vice, he continued with a hissed “…and I’ll snap your pretty little oh so fragile neck!” His erection now bobbing and stretching with enthusiasm for the task.

Okay, this was serious. Spike suddenly had no doubt that Angelus would be as good as his word. When their eyes locked he knew it could be a fatal error to drop his gaze, imply submissiveness in the face of this threat. ‘Carry on as normal, snark your way out of it if you have to, don’t let him see you’re shit-scared…’

He couldn’t read Angelus’ expression as he faced him down; but apparently Angelus could not fathom Spike either. Narrowing his eyes, Angelus pulled back a little, straightened up, absent-mindedly stroking himself. Enjoying the feel of his own strong fingers against the hard flesh and veins of his erection, he glanced around for somewhere to settle in to do the job.

In truth he was beginning to lose interest in baiting Spike this morning, he told himself. Another time for the lad. Yes. Plenty of time to wear him down, have him submit. Hating it, hating Angelus, hating the acts but forced to perform.

A sudden stab of memory slowed his hand for a moment. Spike hadn’t hated it back then; neither of them had...

Old Times #4

Dropping heavily into a chair opposite the object of his unsettling thoughts, Angelus stretched out a leg and brought his booted foot down on top of Spike’s. Slinging his other leg over the arm of his seat, he wriggled back into the cushions and made himself comfortable. Eyelids almost closing, but furtively observing Spike from beneath them, he took a firmer grip on his swollen cock, holding the shaft with one hand, rubbing circles around the naturally lubricated head with the other. Moving up and down his length, stroking the head against the back of his hand; tightening his grip, increasing his stroking speed…

Spike found himself almost mesmerized by the rhythmic motions, the sharply remembered sensations. He could smell the pre-cum, see it glistening on Angelus’ cock and fingers, was suddenly stabbed with an acute sense of loss and want. Tearing his eyes away, he attempted to manoeuvre the chair back, and to turn. To retreat to the bedroom, with its flickering candlelight and the air heady with Dru’s favourite scent. To wait for her return, to whisper his need to her, for her naturally pale lips – expertly painted a rich, seductive plum for his admiration – to stretch around his sleeping cock, bring it back to life…

A growing pressure, heavy and low in his gut, made him believe she maybe could do it, that maybe he could do it…

“Oh no Spike, stay and remind yourself what you’ve been missing” Angelus growled out, jerking his hips a little as he increased the pace of his pleasure. Eyes glinting maliciously, fixed on Spike, even as his body rushed headlong towards his now inevitable climax.

Spike was unable to feel the weight on his foot, but he knew it was hard and heavy enough to prevent him getting away without a struggle. And Angelus would not take too kindly to being so rudely interrupted now. Nothing for it then. He yawned, feigned a bored, careless expression. “You going to finish anytime soon then? Things to do, minions to taunt, you know… If you haven’t managed to get them all killed, that is.”

But the sensations in the pit of his stomach intensified as he stole furtive glances at Angelus, and his mind was filled with images of first Drusilla, then her sire, devouring him, enveloping him, teasing him, torturing him, making him writhe with pain and lust. They were memories, not fantasies. Disturbing in their clarity and detail.

And then of he and Angelus alone. In a mineshaft. Somewhere in Yorkshire, he thought it had been. The women out doing what they did best, next to fucking. The men left behind. Squabbling, taunting each other, brawling. Their special brand of foreplay…

And yes, there was life there. A subtle shifting, a slight thickening. But he could feel it, he could! As this realisation struck, Angelus came at last, noisily and messily, eyes fixed on Spike all the while.

Neither man realised, of course, that the other was reliving that first time...

Old Times #5
1880

In the weeks and months since bumping into Angelus in the London night, since Drusilla had seen something wonderful within this young man and had pursued him to his death, William had been growing in confidence, strength, reckless arrogance. The early days had been traumatic, but illuminating.

His mother.

Then Angelus asserting his dominance over the little group; his attempts to keep William in his place by showing him that everything he thought he had was an illusion. Love eternal with Dru? Pfft, look how easily she fell into Angelus’ arms when bidden!

But William had been storing these experiences away, taking them out and scrutinising them in his quieter moments. His mother’s shocking words and actions still cut him; he didn’t care to dwell on them. So these memories were quickly locked away again, lessons yet to be learned. But Angelus…. He thought he had the measure of him.

“She’s a magnificent woman” Spike grinned, curling his tongue to the back of his teeth and raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t want you so much as glancing in her direction!” Angelus snarled, advancing, brow dark and drawn.

“What’s the matter mate, can’t take the competition?” he snarked back. “First that Master bloke snaps his fingers and she’s off….”

Angelus struck fast and hard, backhanding Spike a resounding slap, the crack of which reverberated round the cavern. Spike’s response as he was sent reeling was maddening to the Irishman. Laughter. Strong, defiant laughter. He was up for the fight, relishing another opportunity to test the boundaries.

“Are you a complete idiot, William?” Angelus yelled. “I should have just staked you the other day and been done with it!”

“Spike.” His lip was split, he realised; his tongue darted out to taste.

“What? Oh, don’t start on that one again!” Spike’s actions distracted Angelus for a split second, and then he was charging, backing him up against a gnarled wooden pit-prop.

Spike seemed totally unconcerned by Angelus’ show of strength and anger as he allowed the prop to take his weight and made no move to duck away or counter the assault. His blood still beaded on his full lower lip, his tongue flicking to it again. The sight was tantalising, bringing Angelus’ cock to restless life. ‘Goddamn the fecking stupid idiotic jumped-up little faker’ Angelus raged inwardly, raising his fist to teach him a better lesson. But his hand was stayed by his own body. He shifted his stance to ease the growing strain in his pants, not really knowing he was going to do it….

Until Spike smirked, defiance in blue eyes made dark in the dim cavern. Angelus suddenly clasped Spike’s head in his hands and brought out his own tongue to lap at the sweet, warm blood. And then his mouth was fastening on Spike’s, suckling at the cut, biting at his lower lip, forcing his tongue into his mouth.

Spike’s eyes grew wide, wild. Disbelieving, shocked, momentarily revolted…. And then a hint of arousal as he became aware of Angelus’ erection pressing against him, hard even through their clothing. Rubbing against his own stirring cock.

“You great poof!” he yelled, violently shoving Angelus from him. “Pathetic excuse for a man. Try to steal another bloke’s girl to make yourself feel big! And now look at you!” He began laughing again, but silently, shoulders shaking. Oh, he had the measure of him now, alright!

He started to turn away as his own arousal grew more evident, still amused, enjoying this new knowledge. And then Angelus was upon him, the force of his lunge bringing them both crashing to the ground.

“You’re all talk, William!” Angelus jibed. “Blethering on about new experiences, the thrill of the unknown. But when it comes to it…” Here he reached between their bodies and grabbed Spike’s balls in his large, powerful hand. ‘You’re the pathetic one.’ But his intended put-down died on his lips. He shifted his grip. Fuck, but the lad was well hung! And growing harder by the second.

“You were saying?” Spike squirmed beneath the heavy Irishman, but did not attempt to escape.

“I was saying… I’m going to fuck you ‘til you scream, bleed, beg for mercy…”

“Yeah? You and whose army?” Spike wriggled some more. And then his hands were ripping at Angelus’ shirt, his mouth fastening on his neck, knees bending and legs wrapping tightly round his grandsire’s waist.

“Young, stinking whelp!” Angelus growled, as he tore at Spike’s pants. “If there’s biting to be done…..”

Old Times #6

Drusilla had returned to the factory eventually, a little shaky, a little rambling, in need of comfort and reassurance. He had soothed her, stroked her, kissed her, all love and gentleness. She had helped him to their bed and had lain naked and quivering in his arms as he whispered to her of her beauty, her strength, her wickedness. How this business with The Judge had been just a small setback. She would be queen of the blasted earth yet, if that’s what she really wanted!

Smiling now - her slow, small, sly smile that had damned him so long ago - she turned in his arms and slid her cool body on to his, straddling him. Bending down to him, dark damaged eyes seeking out the blue. And finding them full of love and longing she sighed, partly in pleasure, partly in frustration. Where was the danger here? But his strong hands were on her, and he could hurt her if she desired it..… Her smile returned, her slender fingers, painted nails, explored his shoulders, chest; sharp little teeth nibbled at his neck, nipped at his nipples. Her silky hair trailed over his skin as she wriggled her way down his body, until she was bending over his sleeping cock.

Glancing back up at Spike, lips twitching mischievously, she cupped his balls; squeezing, kneading, long nails scraping his delicate sac. Spike closed his eyes, tight. Spread out his arms on the bed in a gesture of openness, defencelessness. Pathetically grateful for the tug he felt in his belly, willing there to be more.

“I don’t think he loves me any more, Spike” Drusilla pouted, when there was nothing more. “It really is very tiresome of him.”

Spike groaned, eyes fluttering open. “No love, he does, we do. Just needs some care and attention. Please love….” He grasped her wrists, roughly pulling her a little way back up his body.

Her eyes flashed with understanding and agreement as his hands moved to her hips, trying to turn her. Swinging her body round she clambered back over him, soles of her feet nestling under his armpits, their sensitive flesh tickled by his hairs. She squirmed, giggling, her knees hugging him, cunt hovering deliciously close to his face, to his mouth. Bending low, breasts and hard nipples grazing his flesh, she rocked back her hips until she felt his long tongue flick out to taste her lips. As his mouth hungrily drank her in, his fingers gripped her hips and coaxed her into a slight rocking motion. Penetrating her with his tongue, loving her flavours, her scents, rubbing her clit, forcing her down onto him a little harder…

Drusilla squealed and squirmed, purred as he nuzzled her folds, as he rolled her clit between his teeth, as he fiercely dug his fingers into the flesh of her hips. She would try! Flipping up his cock, she took him into her mouth, sucking hard and biting not a little. Although he remained quite soft, the pressure low in his belly intensified, a small sensation tickled at the base of his spine. When she came, shrieking her pleasure with her mouth still wrapped around him, he unmistakably twitched inside of her and was overwhelmed by an incredible rush of love and appreciation.

She had seemed quite satisfied, and had spent the next hour or more biting and clawing at him, encouraging him to reciprocate; bringing out livid weals on each other’s flesh, until she eventually giggled herself to sleep.

But Spike lay awake for some time longer, cuts stinging, head pounding. He loved her, he truly, eternally loved her. But he had been covered in bruises, slashes, bitemarks after the first time with Angelus. So many times with Angelus. Both men had been.

And it had been glorious…

Old Times #7
1880

“… I’ll be the one to do it! Never forget who’s in control here. William!”

‘Whatever makes you feel better about yourself, you pansy’ Spike was thinking, as Angelus struggled out of his grip long enough to unbutton himself and free his erection.

“It’s Spike!” he grunted, as Angelus dropped his weight down on to him again. “How many times do I have to tell you?”

‘But oh my god! This shouldn’t feel so… oh god!’ His vampire face retreated, fangs retracted.

“Shut your mouth ‘til I tell you how to use it properly!” Angelus snarled, trying so hard not to let Spike see just what this position was doing to him. And as an afterthought, “Boy!”

“What’s the matter? Memory failing you these days?” Spike grinned, shifting his hips and causing their cocks to collide. “Old man…”

Angelus’ eyes flashed, dangerous and yet…. “I won’t warn you again!” he snapped, grabbing Spike’s wrists and pinioning them above the young vampire’s head.

Spike bucked beneath him, still smirking maddeningly. And then slowly ran his long purple-pink tongue over his teeth, licking up Angelus’ blood, eyes half-closing in pleasure. Delicious! Angelus swallowed. It wasn’t supposed to be like this! A droplet from the bite wound at his neck fell onto Spike’s cheek as he loomed over him, a startling crimson against the lad’s pale skin. Exaggerating, rather than marring, his beauty. Spike’s cock was so hard, and yet so silky, rubbing against his own….

Subtly increasing the pressure at Spike’s wrists, and growling deep in the back of his throat, he stooped to slowly lap at his own blood, tongue lingering, then tentatively tracing along the line of Spike’s cheekbone. The quiver this provoked in Spike’s body felt like delicate ripples beneath Angelus, as if he were being carried along on a gentle stream; and Spike's slightly parted lips and involuntary gasp, a surprisingly pleasurable accompaniment. A second or two passed, as their eyes locked; both men silent, and very very still. This was disturbing!

And then the moment was gone.

“Is that it?” Spike drawled, voice now low, husky. “Have you taught me my lesson?”

Angelus narrowed his eyes. Was William really so naïve? He tried to ignore the pressure in his balls, the feeling that they were about to explode. William had to be forced to eat dirt before he could allow himself that release.

“Haven’t even begun” he retorted.

“Really?” Spike suddenly threw his full force behind the effort of heaving Angelus over, sideways, and amidst the frantic scramble of legs and clouds of dust being raised as they tussled, he managed to free his arms and clamber to his knees.

His shirt hung in tatters from him, face streaked with blood, hair dishevelled. And his erection still standing proud and tall through torn pants….. Angelus knew that he was in well nigh the same state and he had to reassert his dominance. And he had to have him! Now!

“Most definitely!” He rolled from his prone position and tackled Spike back to the ground, face first this time, throwing himself on top of him before Spike had a chance to react. Or so he thought.

Angelus couldn’t see the smug expression on Spike’s face as he squirmed beneath him, offering only token resistance as his grandsire tugged down his pants, just enough to expose his buttocks.

It wouldn’t have pleased him.

But the startled look in his eyes as Angelus grabbed his hair and forced his head down hard against the stony earth would have been more gratifying.

And the bewilderment on his face, followed swiftly by shock, as Angelus pried apart his buttocks with his now filthy fingers, would have been too much; would have sent him over the edge far too soon.

Spike really was so naïve, afterall…

“Lesson the First” Angelus almost sang in his ear. “Take it like a man.” Before cruelly thrusting his cock into Spike’s tight entrance without further preamble.

Old Times #8
1880

The pain was almost too much. Sharp, bright, shocking. Exciting.

He felt delicate tissue tear, smelt his own blood, struggled hard to stop himself crying out. But the strangled, prolonged groan forced from his throat seemed to arouse Angelus all the more. As Angelus pounded into him, however, the pain dulled, blood perversely easing the way. Spike’s thoughts were chaotic, confused; he found he couldn’t act, only react, as he was rocked by the most unexpected and, to this still relatively inexperienced young man, unbelievable sensations! His cock was harder than ever beneath him; and bewilderingly, somehow, somewhere inside, as Angelus thrust…it was as if he were hitting a little button. Of pleasure, of warmth, of…

But then he felt Angelus’ phallus throbbing inside him, the grunt and rush of wetness signalling a climax of sorts, and all too soon he was withdrawing, rolling off him.

If Angelus had hoped to achieve domination, humiliation and control of his young protégé with this act of sexual aggression, he had failed. Instead, Spike was left frustrated, wanting more. Believing that they really could do better than that! And feeling sure that this first taste of him and his body would not be enough to satisfy Angelus, either.

He could certainly use this to his advantage…

And the opportunity to test his theory came so much sooner than he expected! As Spike rolled on to his side, and then tentatively pushed himself up off the ground, he heard water splashing and glanced over to where Angelus was dousing his face.

“Thought you were teaching me a lesson” Spike called over to him. “But headmaster’s let me off lightly, by the looks…”

Angelus was still, but Spike could see his shoulder muscles tensed and bunched beneath his now filthy, torn shirt. Waiting.

“No wonder Darla keeps disappearing” he added. “No staying power, not man enough for her. I bet I could give her a good run. Her and Dru together, now wouldn’t that be something? Be surprised if they ever had time for you again!”

“I know what you’re doing, boy.” Angelus’ voice was low, dark but controlled. And yet his fists were now clenching and unclenching at his side. The torches flaming on the cavern walls guttered a little at a small breath of air; barely disturbing the thick, electric atmosphere.

“You do?” Spike wanted him to turn, to see him, to see how he had left him, still erect, still unsatisfied, still needing a release. “Buggered if I do!” He laughed at his own weak joke and shifted on the ground.

At Spike’s sharp gasp of discomfort as he moved to a sitting position, Angelus half-turned, unable to stop his body reacting to the sound. Shrugging off what remained of his shirt, he dipped it in the water barrel and walked slowly back to Spike. The boy looked vulnerable down there, battered, bruised, scraped, bleeding. But his eyes were still challenging, his mouth defiant. Angelus’ eyes drifted down further. Really, that was too good to waste…. Hunkering down in front of him, he offered Spike the wet shirt to clean himself up. When it wasn’t taken, he laid it to one side without comment.

Angelus leaned in closer. Silence. Spike watched fascinated as droplets of water meandered down a strand of Angelus’ tousled hair and plopped gently onto his own belly. Angelus, too, watched them land. Licked his lips. Said nothing. The unresolved ache in Spike’s balls was almost more than he could stand and in another second he would have blurted out some taunt, some insult, just to provoke the big lug into some sort of action. But Angelus broke first.

“Your nipples” he muttered, trying to sound mocking, ridiculing. Instead, voice husky. “Just like a woman’s.” Large, dark, erect, inviting.

Spike raised an eyebrow, but held his tongue.

“Don’t make a sound, don’t struggle, don’t fight me. Or I’ll turn you into a eunuch with one bite!” So saying, Angelus moved to straddle him and to Spike’s astonishment bent low, gave his phallus an exploratory, full-length lick with a tongue slick with spittle. And then slowly closed his mouth around the head.

As he sucked him into his mouth, Spike did make a sound, and slumped back down to lie beneath his grandsire. He wondered at why Angelus would do this to him, not demand this service himself, but gave up the puzzle as the man's tongue vibrated against his shaft.

Oh my god! This was more like it! And if Angelus liked it enough, he wouldn’t be so keen to bed Drusilla next time…

Old Times #9

It had always been such a special day for them. Ruined now; maybe forever…

Still bursting with gratitude at Dru’s patience, and certain his body was mending, Spike had sent out his most aesthetic minion - which after the demise of Dalton wasn’t saying a great deal - to steal a few necklaces, with a clear description of what he wanted. Spike was happy with the choice he was able to make, so happy infact that he allowed the wiry little fellow to keep those he rejected.

He knew she would love it, it was just her kind of thing! He couldn’t keep the smirk from his lips as she opened the case, her eyes twinkling at the gold and rubies.

“Fancy it, pet?” Knowing that she did.

But then there had been Angelus, swaggering in, setting down a heart on the table, a human heart by the size; fresh and bloody. The scent of it had filled their nostrils, Drusilla gasping her pleasure as she traced her fingers over the slippery offal.

Spike had felt the rage mounting inside, directed not just at Angelus, but at his feckless woman too, but there had been worse to come. Pity access? Had she been talking to Angelus about him, about his unresponsive body? Had he maybe heard them in bed yesterday?

Angry, confused, hurt, he'd controlled his voice as best he could, taunted Angelus with the only weapon to hand. Buffy, and Angelus’ inability to deal with her.

“Don't worry, Spike” Drusilla’s voice had been sing-song, flirty, cutting across their bickering. Speaking to him but gazing at Angelus. “Angel always knows... what speaks to a girl's heart.”

She didn’t love him, she didn’t want him, she pitied him. He had lost his strength, his power, his woman, his everything. He was nothing. And that git was hovering around, watching, waiting, taking it all as and when he felt like it…

‘Angel always knows…’

Spike shivered. No! He just bloody well thought he did, and about everything. But really, he didn’t have a fucking clue!

And he’d prove it.

+++

Still feeling painfully betrayed, he could barely look at her. And as for that wretched puppy! Goddamnit, he would strangle both it and her!

But instead he answered her entreaties to dine in a brusque, clipped tone. “I won't have you feeding me like a child, Dru.” Wheeling himself away from her and the wriggling pup... And almost colliding with Angelus.

He was ready for Angelus’ jibes now; predictable, boring. Yes, she did bathe him; but hell, it was an intimate and enjoyable act!

Although still vulnerable to the little bolts of jealousy that shot through him every time Dru paid any mind to Angelus, he was not going to rise to this, to them, no matter what they said and did. Not now.

Oh yes, he’d make all the right noises. Neither of them would suspect. And the anger and feelings of betrayal would be lurking inside still, ready to be released when the time was right. But for now, he had other priorities, another game to play. And if he were honest with himself, he would enjoy it.

“…if there's anything I can do for you... Any...” Angelus paused in his baiting, leaning in to Spike “…responsibility I can assume while you're spinning your wheels...” Glancing at Dru with lascivious appreciation. “Anything I'm not already doing, that is.”

Angelus’ giggles set his teeth on edge but still he ground them together. He would not endure existing like this! Not for anything…

Drusilla made “There there” noises and bent down to Spike, planting a chaste kiss on his cheek, and the puppy in his lap.

“You two boys... fightin' over me and all.” Dru trilled. “Makes a girl feel...” Halting abruptly, she groaned loudly, seemingly in pain. One of her visions? Presentiments?

+++

Far from a vision of foreboding, Dru had declared Buffy ripe for the picking, and Angelus had raced off to do the plucking. Spike was amused. The mighty Angelus really understood nothing when it came down to it, not even himself. His grandsire had always thought Spike was the impetuous one, impatient and stupid… Well, he had to admit, patience had never been his strongest suit. Before now.

But he hadn’t gotten himself cursed with a soul, had he? He had held on to his woman for a century, despite everything – the power Angelus seemed to have over her, the lure of the Immortal. Angelus, however, had let his women and his reputation slip through his fingers.

And Spike had bagged himself a couple of slayers… Well, okay, fair enough, Angel had bedded one. Wonder what that'd be like…

Spike’s train of thought was broken as Angelus stormed back into the factory. Another failure then? With Dru out on the prowl, this might just be the time…

“She uninvited me! The bitch locked me out of her frigging house!” Angelus railed.

“The course of true lust never did run smooth, mate” Spike grinned. “Another one gone, huh?” He counted them off on his fingers. “Buffy, Darla, Drusilla…”

“Don’t go there Spike, you won’t live to regret it!”

“You know” Spike feigned thoughtfulness. “It’s almost like…” He deliberately let his words trail off, glancing up at Angelus from beneath lowered lids.

“Like what?” Angelus barked at him, pacing furiously back and forth in front of his chair.

“Like maybe there's someone… Someone else always there. In the back of your mind. Someone you want more. Someone you…”

Angelus paused in front of him, frowning. But silent.

“Someone you just can’t shake the taste for…”

Old Times #10
1880

Angelus drank him down thirstily, milked him of everything he could before reluctantly letting him slip from his mouth. He sat up, swallowed thickly, wiped his lips with the back of his hand. Spike was spread out beneath him, looking vulnerable, pale, his arms thrown across his face. Quiet now. Seemed as if the lad was hoarse, all screamed out! At last! Well, he’d promised him he’d make him scream, bleed, beg for mercy, hadn't he... But this way? Not quite what he’d had in mind. The way the young idiot made him feel… It was disturbing. Yet addictive.

He’d be buggered if he’d let him see how he was affecting him, how much he craved him! He’d be buggered… The very thought of that deliciously large cock penetrating him had Angelus hard again. Seemed he couldn’t keep his mind and imagination from straying to what he and the lad could, should, do together, no matter what!

“Honours even” Spike’s words were muffled.

Angelus bent and grasped Spike’s forearms, moved them away from his scraped and grimy face.

“Honours even” he repeated, slowly opening his eyes. “Seems to me.” Almost cat-like, he stretched his body and raised his back from the ground.

Angelus could feel Spike’s thighs tighten beneath him, see his stomach muscles work as he moved to a sitting postion. He swallowed hard again, still tasting the other man, and unable to bring himself to move away. A small smile twitched at Spike’s lips as he demanded eye contact and refused to let it go. His hands slid slowly up Angelus’ thighs, moved around his broad back, held on tight as he pulled himself in closer until their noses almost touched.

“And seems to me” he all but whispered. “We need another bout. A decider.”

He could smell himself on Angelus; decided he wanted to taste himself too. And find out how that cruel Irish mouth felt against his when neither could utter curses, insults, taunts.

But slowly. Test the waters.

“What d’you think?” he murmured, fingers twining in Angelus’ tangled hair, stroking his nape, subtly bringing their lips a little nearer.

The brown eyes closed, those Irish lips parted slightly. Otherwise motionless, waiting, wanting. Angelus was suddenly very clear about the game they were playing, would continue to play. Spike thought he loved Drusilla, needed her, wanted her. Was trying to divert his grandsire’s attentions away from her. But he also had need and want for Angelus.

Fully reciprocated.

If that’s what it took to keep them all together, to allow the men to enjoy each other as they cut a terrifying swathe through Europe and beyond, then he’d back off gradually. Let him have his precious lady, the epitome of Angelus’ artistry, to himself. No winners, no losers.

The kiss when it came was slow, sensual, moist and warm. He must be sickening for something to so utterly enjoy this disgusting display of tenderness. But men like them didn’t sicken for anything, did they?

“Enough” Angelus eventually forced himself to speak, drawing back. “Or there’ll be no time for a third round…”

+++

Drusilla’s happy chatter about their night's mayhem was halted abruptly. “Oh!” she exclaimed, clapping her lace-gloved hands together. “Pretty!”

The two men turned at the sound of her voice, hastily suppressing grins; water dripping from their naked bodies, glistening on their bruised, bitten skin, pearling in their curling pubic hair.

“But so naughty!” she continued, more crossly. “Playing wrestling games without us.”

Wash as they might, there was no still no disguising the pungent stench of sex and semen in the cavern.

“And a good deal more besides, my dear” Darla declared, eyeing her man from beneath an arched brow.

Old Times #11

All was quiet at the factory. Too quiet. Nothing was going to plan. Infact he had no plan right now. Drusilla was sniffing out trouble for him at the Magic Box, but he felt the need for action, more mayhem of his own. Frustrated, Angelus paced among the crates and debris. Making fists, making furrows in his brow, not making plans. Too quiet! Spike…

His agitation brought him passed the doorway to the room Drusilla and Spike had made their bedchamber. Angelus sensed him, felt him, caught his scent. He was just lying there; skin glowing silver in the moonlight spilling freely through the small, high window; drapes cast to one side. Sleeping late. Church candles guttered, adding a subtle smoky aroma to the mix. He leant against the door jamb, dark eyes large, watchful; felt his fists uncurling as he remembered another night like this…

+++

The girls were dressed in their finest and out on the town, looking for fun and food. It seemed to be increasingly the way. 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 near dizziness in his head. But never the tug in his heart… Never that!

Drusilla had left one small lamp alight in the otherwise heavily darkened room, casting 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 as 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, he cautiously moved 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. Nor did he show any signs of wakefulness as Angelus reached across him for a pillow, or when he eased it under the young man’s hips.

But when his legs were gently parted, surely he was aware? 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 know then, surely?

And yet still William made no movement, no sound.

Until Angelus lowered his weight down to him, adjusted the position of the young man’s hips just a little, guided his now straining cock to his hole. And pushed. Pushed again. And entered at the third stroke, groan at last released from throat. Only then did William show any signs of life, unlife. Eyes opening wide, legs winding tightly round Angelus’ neck, being rocked with each thrust, penetrating deeper than the last, he moved suddenly. Legs forcing Angelus down further, hands clasping his head, his mouth parted hungrily, his tongue eagerly forcing a penetration of its own. Angelus had no will to fight the kiss. Instead he thrust harder, faster, knowing he was reaching the place that sent William into spasms, caused him to roar and dig his elegant poet’s fingers fiercely into Angelus’ flesh. 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 aching cock.

In his dream, as they had come, noisily, messily, William had plunged a sharp wooden stake into his back, forcing it through to his heart, causing him to fragment and fall away before he had the chance to respond. But now, as he yelled “Spike!” into his lover’s open mouth, the boy just laughed gleefully and clutched him all the harder…

+++

And now, more than a century later, as the flames danced and history seemed intent on repeating itself, Spike again pulled him into a fierce, passionate kiss. But remained silent. Silent as Angelus grunted and strained, and climaxed inside him. Silent, even though he had been astonished, shocked, grateful as Angelus thrust. Even though he had felt it all. Every stroke. Had felt Angelus’ member large, hard and insistent inside him. Felt him hit that spot time and again. Ironic to have to fight the erection threatening to give him away, after all these weeks of nothing… But Angelus mustn’t know.

“No-one must know!” Angelus hissed as he withdrew, head spinning, thoughts jumbled.

Never the heart, never that…

Pulling away, Angelus stared wildly into the candelight. Candles! So pretty. So useful. In the art of seduction. In leading poor simpering fools to romantic heartbreak!

He licked his lips, glanced back at Spike. The joy of love. He shook his head, thought of Buffy. The clarity of hatred. Smirking now. The ecstacy of grief...

A lesson for the teacher; a bitter lesson for them all. Death. Despair.

Now he had a plan!

TBC

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