Prompt #53: Threesome

Title: Cuddly As A Cactus
Summary: Set during Innocence. Angelus has his family back and is in a jovial mood.
 

“You should’ve seen her face. It was priceless. I’ll never forget it,” Angelus smirked.

“So you didn’t kill her then,” Spike complained.

“Of course not.”

“Now, I know you haven’t been in the game for a while, mate, but we still do kill people. Sort of our raison d’etre, you know.”

“You don’t want to kill her, do you?” Dru giggled. “You want to hurt her. Just like you hurt me.

“Nobody knows me like you do, Dru.”

“She’d better not get in our way.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I do.”

“Spike, my boy!” Angelus growled. “You really don’t get it! Do you? You tried to kill her, but you couldn’t. Look at you. You’re a wreck! She’s stronger than any slayer you’ve ever faced. Force won’t get it done.” He stood up and moved closer to the blond. Bent down until they were nearly nose to nose. “You gotta work from the inside. To kill this girl... you have to love her.” 

~*~

“And how do you propose we ‘love’ her?” Spike grouched, nonplussed by Angelus’ grandstanding.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Angelus grinned evilly then lifted Spike out of his wheelchair and slung him over his shoulder.

“Angelus! What the bloody hell—?”

Drusilla dropped her doll and hurried to her sire’s side, clapping and giggling happily. “Oh… daddy wants to play! Can I play too, daddy? Please? Can I?”

“Certainly, Princess. Anything for my girl. Hurry on ahead now…”

Drusilla cooed her delight, racing ahead of the two males into the bedroom she and Spike shared.

“Put me down, you wanker,” Spike yelled.

“What? Spike doesn’t want his Christmas present?”

“Christmas has already passed, you git. ‘n I don’t think takin’ it up the arse from the likes of you can be considered a present.”

“Oh… Spike,” Angelus grinned and dropped the vamp on the bed, eyeing the other’s erection. “Your mouth says no, but your dick says yes. Besides, it’s my blood that’s the present, not my cock… not that you won’t be getting that too.” He took note of Spike’s astonished gaze and added, “What? Didn’t think I’d fix you?”

“Not really,” Spike replied honestly.

“Spike, Spike, Spike…” the elder vamp chided. He sat down on the edge of the bed and ran his fingers through the blond’s hair. “If anyone’s gonna break you, it’s gonna be me. Now! Let’s get you out of these clothes. Can’t properly love the Slayer if your equipment doesn’t work, now can you?”

Angelus stood and shed his clothes while Drusilla helped Spike with his. When she was done, she pulled her dress over her head, stepped out of her shoes, and waited.

The summons wasn’t long in coming.

“Come, Princess. Spike wants to show daddy how talented he is with his tongue. If he can make you come before me, he gets to feed sooner, rather than later.”

“Oi! No fair,” Spike complained. “You haven’t been laid in over a hundred years.”

“Got some Slayer tail last night. Remember? Should be just enough to take the edge off.” Angelus positioned himself between Spike’s legs and rammed his way home. Spike’s cry mingled with Drusilla’s giggle. “Then again, your ass is so tight…”

“Fuck! Dru, baby, come here, luv. Spike’s hungry.” 

“That’s the spirit, Spike.”

Prompt #28: Dominant

Title: Lighten My Darken
Summary: Set sometime after Wrecked. Spike goes to see Angel.
 

“Not to be negative or anything, but - we're okay, right? Nobody else is coming after Connor or us?” Fred asked, concern evident in her voice.

“No. We're safe for the time being,” Angel replied. “Let's go home.” He looked at Gunn. “Nice stroller.”

“Thanks…”

~*~*~*~*~

Spike stumbled in the front door of the Hyperion, tripped down the steps, and lay passed out on the floor, much to the shock of the other inhabitants – especially the vampire rocking his son in his arms.

“Spike,” he growled, and passed off Connor to Cordelia.

The past week and a half had been relatively quiet; his threat to Linwood must have had an impact on the man. Wolfram & Hart had apparently backed off for now, and he’d seen no evidence of Holtz about.

He’d relaxed somewhat in preparation of Christmas and even let Cordy and the others spruce up the lobby with decorations and a tree.

And now this…

Angel strode over to his errant grandchilde and hauled him up by the back of his duster. The smell of alcohol assaulted his nostrils – Spike was dead drunk – but that was nothing compared to the smell of blood and semen. His and Buffy’s essences mingled together.

He barely repressed his howl of rage.

Slinging Spike over his shoulder, he made for the stairs.

“Angel?” Cordy called out.

“Keep an eye on Connor. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“But—”

“It’s fine, Cordelia. I’m just gonna dump him in one of the vacant bedrooms. When he sobers up, I’ll find out what he’s doing here.”

Getting no other argument from her or the others, Angel took the stairs two at a time. Out of sight of the others, he let his demon have free reign. He could practically feel Angelus banging against his cage, demanding to be let out. To punish the boy for daring to take what was his.

Angel was half tempted to let him.

He didn’t know what Spike was thinking to come to Los Angeles and flaunt his sexual relationship with his ex-girlfriend in his face. Then to top it off by passing out drunk at his feet.

One thing was for sure, his childe had a lot of explaining to do when he awoke.

Angel dumped Spike on the bed in the room next to his own. The vampire didn’t move or twitch once he stopped bouncing on the mattress. He could only imagine the quantity of alcohol Spike had to drink to be that out of it – vampire constitution being what it was. With a final growl, Angel shook off his demon and returned to the lobby. Answers would have to wait until Spike slept it off.

“You think it’s wise, having him here?” Wesley asked upon his return.

“Yeah, hot pokers ringing any bells?” Cordelia added.

“Spike can’t hurt anyone,” Angel half explained. “He’s… it won’t be a problem.”

“If you say so,” Cordelia snorted. Then she dropped the matter and returned her attention to the baby in her arms, her antics causing everyone around her to smile.

~*~*~*~*~

Angel came downstairs two days later and looked around. The lobby was deserted save for Lorne, who was playing with Connor. With only two days left before Christmas, everyone else was apparently out shopping.

“Where’s Spike?”

“I’m guessing up in his room, Angelcakes.”

“Still?”

“Uh huh. If you ask me, that vamp’s nursing a broken heart.”

Angel snorted.

“Scoff all you want, Schnookums, but you didn’t see the look on his face when he spied the Li’l Kipper for the first time.”

“Lorne, he nearly attacked my son,” Angel growled.

“Didn’t you say that he couldn’t hurt anyone? And he wasn’t attacking so much as wanted to get a whiff of what his senses were no doubt telling him – that he belonged to you. Why didn’t you tell him?”

Angel frowned. “What was I supposed to say? ‘I got a reincarnated Darla pregnant, and she staked herself bringing our son into this world’?”

“It would have been the truth. Angelkins…”

“Look. I don’t have time for this right now. Spike is… just being typical Spike. Showing up unexpectedly and making a mess of things. He’s done nothing but drink himself into a coma these past two days, so it’s not like he would have listened to anything I had to say anyway.”

“He’s in pain. He wouldn’t be the first person to drown their sorrows in drink.”

“Do you know something? Have you read him?”

“Honey, I don’t have to read him. The vamp wears his heart on his sleeve, at least for those of us smart enough to notice.”

“So what are you saying?”

“You’re his Sire.”

“Grandsire.”

“Uh huh…”

“It’s true,” Angel denied.

“Riiight. You’d like everyone to think that. If it’s in the Watcher’s Chronicles, it has to be gospel. You’re forgetting something… I’m an empath. I can see the bond between you two as surely as I could a rope wrapped around your guy’s waists.”

“Lorne, I haven’t been his sire in a hundred years. He wouldn’t take my help even if I offered it.”

“Ever think him coming here drunk and smelling like the Slayer is his way of asking for it?” At Angel’s surprised look he added, “What? It’s not like vampires have a monopoly on the nose schtick. Those two must have been going at it all night for him to smell the way he did. Hell, if I didn’t know better, I’d think he deliberately didn’t bathe for days just so—”

“Lorne!”

“What?”

“Not helping.”

“Oh… sorry.”

“So what am I supposed to do?”

“What would Angelus have done?”

Flayed him within an inch of his life then spent a week drowning the boy in his own come to get rid of the Slayer’s scent.

“Okay. Well, maybe you don’t have to go to that extreme,” Lorne commented upon seeing Angel’s fierce expression. “But you need to do something. Or I fear you’ll ’ve gained one child, only to lose another.”

When Spike ended up being a no-show for the third night in a row, Angel took matters into his own hands.

~*~*~*~*~

It wasn’t pretty. Angel stormed into Spike’s room and manhandled him out of bed.

“You’re not gonna come here and then stay drunk all the time.”

“Leave me alone. Go play with your li’l brat.”

“No. We’re having this out once and for all.”

Spike took a swing at him.

Angel easily ducked it and let his own fist fly, crashing into Spike’s face and sending him flying back against the wall. After that it was a free-for-all, and even with Spike being as drunk as he was, it took awhile for Angel to gain the upper hand. Finally shoving him back on the bed and straddling his waist.

“Ye’re my childe, Will. Just because Connor is in my life now, doesn’t mean there’s no place for you.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, Angel,” Spike told him wearily. “Let me up. I’m going back to Sunnydale. Don’t even know why I came here.”

Angel didn’t move.

“I said let me up.”

“No.”

Spike began to struggle beneath the greater weight of his sire. “Get off of me, you bloody poof.” Harder still when his efforts proved useless.

“Ow! Stop it. Spike. Will. Fuck!”

Angel, tired of being bitten and clawed, flipped Spike over and shoved him face-first into the mattress.

“What’s the matter, Peaches? Don’t want me goin’ back to the slayer. Can’t stand the thought that she’s not the little girl you used to know? That she’s being fucked by an evil, soulless—” Fangs pierced his neck and cut off his angry tirade. He struggled a bit more then finally gave up. With Angel pulling blood out of him at such a rapid pace, it was only a matter of time before he lost his strength altogether. Better just to concede the round.

Angel sensed the fight go out Spike and released his neck. Laving tenderly at the marks he’d made for the first time since… ever. Angelus may have favored William, but he’d been hard pressed to show it, not without being seen weak. With his soul, Angel was able to do that now. And he did, purring into the skin beneath his lips until he felt Spike shudder.

“Ya don’t have t’ deliberately piss me off for me t’ pay attention t’ ya, ya know. Yer m’ childe, Will. My favored, truth be known. And not the soul, or Connor, will ever change that.”

“You’re not my sire. Angelus is—” Spike snapped.

“I’ll be happy to show you how close to the surface he can be sometimes,” Angel warned. “If that’s what it takes.”

“Pfft. Whatever. I’m going back to Sunnydale. At least there, I know where I fit in. Go-to vamp, that’s me.”

“And you’re happy with that?”

“What do you care? You’re the one that left me there, shackled in the watcher’s bathtub, unable to even feed myself. Ridiculed and mocked like I was some bloody pet.” Spike struggled beneath Angel, and surprisingly was allowed to slip free. Was almost to the door when his sire’s words stopped him in his tracks.

“They swore they’d look after you. It’s why I left you with them. Giles, even Buffy… they told me they’d take care of you. Keep you safe from the Initiative. I didn’t think you’d come back with me so I left you in their care.”

“Care? Care?” Spike asked incredulously. “You think they’ve been carin’ for me all this time?”

“I saw you at Joyce’s funeral. You seemed okay—”

“Fat lot you know, you pillock!”

Spike was so angry he was close to tears. Practically vibrated with it. If he didn’t leave the room, hell, L.A. for that matter, he’d be half tempted to chain his sire up and finish that hot poker torture session. Personally this time.

He stormed out of his temporary room; the sound of the door crashing into the wall was loud enough that Lorne peeked his head out of his own room several doors down to see what was going on. Spying Spike’s retreating back, and the elder vampire hot on his heels, caused him to smile and quietly retreat back inside his room.

Angel slammed Spike up against the wall, the forearm to the back of his neck holding him in place.

“Bes’ be explainin’ that comment of yours, childe.”

“Get off ‘o me.”

“Not until you tell me—”

Spike broke free and whirled around to face his sire.

“What?” he yelled. “How I was lucky to get a mug of foul-tastin’ pig’s blood a day? How the Slayer thought my face was her own personal punching bag. How the Whelp never missed an opportunity to threaten me or belittle me? What, Angel? Is that not enough? How about how I had to align myself with my enemy just to survive… and how the demon community took great pleasure in calling me a traitor to their kind. Or maybe you’d like to hear how Riley shoved a plastic stake in my heart because I outed his nasty habit to the Slayer. How she blamed me when he took off for good.”

“I’m sorry,” Angel whispered. “You should have come to me.”

“And what? Be treated to more of the same? You made it perfectly clear how you felt when you left me there with them. ‘m just some errant childe you turned your back on so your past wouldn’t interfere with your plans of redemption. No worries, mate. I’ll be out of your hair in a jiff.”

Spike turned on his heel and walked off.

Angel didn’t stop him from leaving.

~*~*~*~*~

“You’re just going to let him go?”

“You heard him, Lorne, he doesn’t want to stay here,” Angel sighed resignedly.

“Not only blind but stupid to boot. Angelcakes, Spike’s a vampire. No soul, no conscience. Though that part’s probably debatable. But he is a demon. You’re his sire. Make him.”

“Just because he’s a demon doesn’t mean he doesn’t get a say in how he lives his life.”

“I’m telling you he doesn’t want one. At least not right now. If he goes back to Sunnydale, the slayer and her friends will eventually succeed in breaking him. Much worse than Angelus ever could,” he added quietly.

~*~*~*~*~

Spike had just reached his car when he was slammed up against the door.

“What do you want, Angel? Have to say this is gettin’ old.”

“Mind your tongue or I’ll cut it out and ration your blood so that it takes a month to grow back.” Angel felt Spike stiffen beneath him and chuckled. “You seem to forget your place, childe of mine. I made you. You belong to me. Your purpose… your sole reason for being is to serve my pleasure. Mine, and only mine.”

Angel bit into Spike’s neck and drank until Spike sagged against the car. It didn’t take long, given what he’d taken earlier.

“Forgotten how good it was to drink from the source,” Angel murmured in his childe’s ear. “Especially you… nothing tastes better than my own sweet Will. Isn’t that right? Answer me, childe.”

“Sire…”

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Angel asked rhetorically, cupping Spike’s crotch. “You always did like when I fed from you. Always made that extra kill just so I would. Didn’t you, boy?”

“Yes!” Spike gasped out.

Angel snapped the buttons on Spike’s fly and wrapped a hand around his childe’s cock. Fisting it hard and fast, and never once letting up on his verbal assault.

“Tell me who you belong to, boy.”

“You, Sire. You.”

“You’re gonna stay here with me.”

“Yes…” He arched into the hand steadily bringing him off, right there on the street where anyone could walk by.

“You wouldna’ be lyin’ to me, would you, boy?”

“No—”

“Ya sure now? Because, I’d follow you back there. Fuck you in front of all of them if need be, Buffy included, if I have to. To prove to them, and to you, who you belong to.”

Spike’s cock jumped in his hand and Angel chuckled. He gave one last squeeze and reluctantly tucked it away.

“As much as I want to fuck you right now, I’m a little bit more discreet than Angelus. Back inside. My room though, I’ve got the bigger bed.” 

Prompt #6: Restraints

Title: The Call of Blood
Summary: Set during Beauty and the Beasts, Angel – or is it Angelus – is back, and Buffy isn’t the only one that knows.

South America
Summer 1998

Spike stubbed out his cigarette and finished off his shot of whiskey in one quick swallow. He barely noticed the bite of the alcohol as it wormed its way down his throat; it had long since gone numb, given that he was on his second bottle. As he poured himself another two fingers full, he mulled over the nonexistent relationship he had with his sire.

Sure she took other creatures to her bed. Hell, he was far from the monogamous type. They were demons, after all. But it had never been like this before. Her taunting him, night after night, refusing his attentions out of hand.

Drowning his sorrows in human and demon flesh wasn’t helping.

Even the thrill of the hunt wasn’t enough to keep his mind off his sire and her philandering ways.

He needed a change. A change of scenery. Something. Anything, rather than this wallowing in drink, reminiscing about days long past. Lying in eternal wait for a change in the status quo.

He’d leave South America. Let Drusilla have her fun with her demon lovers. It’s not like they’d never been apart in the past. When he’d killed the slayer a few years back, he’d been off doing his own thing. At least until she’d shown up one day, claiming the stars had whispered to her of his success. Like old times, it had been then, the two of them in New York bathing the city red.

Blood, sex, and violence – his unlife had been good. Would that it were so now.

Decision made, Spike swallowed the last of his drink and slammed the glass back down on the counter and stood.  A break from his sire was in order.

And, if the familial bond tugged at him as he left South America behind and ventured back into the states, he firmly ignored it.

~*~*~*~*~

Las Vegas, Nevada
Fall 1998

Spike leaned back in his cushioned seat and drew heavily on his cigarette as the human girl gyrated on his lap in time to the music. He quirked his brow as she slipped a hand down his pants and stroked him in time to her movements; the management had a strict “no touching” rule, one she was blatantly ignoring. Uncaring, he let his head fall back against the headrest. His eyes closed and he gave himself over to her touch. He’d been coming to this particular strip joint for awhile now, and the girl on his lap knew what he liked. She jerked him hard, her grip on his dick tight. The music swelled as the beat got faster, building to an inevitable climax.

He did, only it wasn’t just the girl that made it happen. The pull of the familial bond was strong in the seconds before his orgasm hit.

But it wasn’t Drusilla that was calling to him. It was Angel, or rather Angelus, that was subconsciously summoning Spike to his side.

~*~*~*~*~

Sunnydale
One day later…

Spike’s return to the Hellmouth was marked with little fanfare. He parked his Desoto down by the waterfront and covered it with a tarp, effectively hiding it from inquisitive eyes, then made his way stealthily towards the mansion. The bond was a subtle thing, drawing him ever onward, and he would have vaulted the cement wall and let himself in via the courtyard, but he sensed someone else lurking about – the Slayer.

She wasn’t trying to be quiet either, if anything her movements were frantic, hurried. A second later, Spike heard the scrape and grind of chains dragging on the bare floor as she left one of the bedrooms and marched back into the main hall. Then the distinct sounds of the steel manacles engaging.

He had to hand it to her, she wasn’t taking any chances. Why she didn’t stake Angelus out of hand was anyone’s guess. Maybe she figured it was her souled up boyfriend returned.

Spike knew different however.

It was Angelus. And not the crazed vamp from a few months back either. No, this was his true sire. The one that had taken a newly-turned William under his wing and showed him how to be a true vampire. A natural predator.

Spike waited in the shadows until he heard the girl leave. Only then did he leap the courtyard wall and steal inside. Angelus was clearly out of it, naked save for a pair of pants. His wrists were shackled; a length of chain ran between them, looped through a decorative metal beam secured to the ceiling.

He snorted and rolled his eyes. Surely the slayer didn’t think that a master vampire of Angelus’ caliber couldn’t break free from something so shoddy?

Senses attuned to the slightest hint of movement from his grandsire, Spike knelt down and gently ran his fingers through dark, matted hair. He sighed wistfully as Angelus continued to slumber, oblivious just now to his presence. His own emotions teetered on extremes – part of him grateful of the vamp’s return, having long since grown tired of being alone after splitting from Drusilla. Yet, he was still smarting from Angelus’ betrayal when he’d been freed from his pesky soul, how he’d been left confined to his wheelchair, when a few days of feeding from his grandsire would have seen him returned to full strength.

Spike had known then that there was something wrong with Angelus. And he’d had it confirmed when the elder vamp thought to wipe humanity from the face of the Earth.

That was what had made him align himself with the slayer. He liked the world just fine the way it was.

Spike sat next to Angelus throughout the remainder of the night, continuing to pet and soothe his grandsire as he tossed and turned, apparently in the grip of a nightmare, or memories of his time spent in some hell dimension. Spike, meanwhile, was plagued with his own memories – of the two of them together, before China. Fucking and feeding to their heart’s content, with the girls and without.

Good times then.

When he could feel dawn approaching, Spike reluctantly roused himself enough to get up. He needed someplace safe – someplace the slayer wouldn’t think to look – as he slept the day away. Before leaving, he drew his fang across his thumb and pressed it to Angelus’ mouth.

A taste of family, a reminder that one of his own was near – if not actually present – when he awoke.

~*~*~*~*~

Angelus woke, still taunted by visions that plagued him more in sleep. He had no concept of where he was, only that he was restrained – heavy shackles circled both wrists, the chain link between them cold and heavy against his side. He gained his feet and gave a halfhearted attempt to free himself, but his weakened condition prevented him from yanking the chains free from the metal beam in the ceiling.

Frustrated, and half out of his mind with hunger, Angelus collapsed back onto the floor. He huddled against the wall and rested his cheek against the cool stone, his face turned away from the front door.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there before he heard someone approach. Muscles coiled tight, ready to spring at a moment’s notice. The person came closer, tentatively so. The scent was vaguely familiar, and if he wasn’t so completely messed up in the head just then, he might have recognized it.

Still, he knew that it wasn’t the one he wanted. It was not family. Not… William. The name materialized out of thin air. Then a face slowly took shape. Deep blue eyes. Sharp cheekbones. Full bottom lip. William. His boy. He licked his lips and recognized the lingering taste of the male vamp.

William was here… somewhere.

“Angel…”

A female voice, human. Not family. Dangerous.

He spun around and lunged, growling warningly. The chains brought him up short, but he saw the figure jerk back… wary. He snarled again, some ingrained sense telling him that she could hurt him.

Thankfully, she turned and bolted, leaving him to his solitude.

~*~*~*~*~

Spike woke an hour before sunset. His sleep had been riddled with dreams, memories of him and Angelus together. Which was why he woke with his dick hard and aching. Pulling on his jeans was a delicate process, and even then, he didn’t bother with buttoning them.

He climbed the staircase leading from the wine cellar. The smell of Slayer was heavy in the air, the girl had obviously returned at some point during the day, but hadn’t stuck around. Angelus must have seen her off. He grinned, imagining the encounter between the two, and whistled a merry tune as he walked into the main hall.

His grandsire was awake, and watching him intently, his head cocked to the side.

“Hungry?” Spike asked, and pierced his thumb with his fang, holding it out for the other’s inspection. He walked closer, nostrils flaring as he caught a whiff of Angelus’ hunger – for blood and for him. Anticipated the wild ride about to commence.

His eyes widened as Angelus stood abruptly and began yanking on his chains, trying to free himself from the metal beam keeping him tethered in place. Muscles strained and flexed; a low growl rumbled forth from deep within his chest, almost like a battle cry.

The metal scraped back and forth and finally gave way.

Angelus roared his triumph… then attacked.

Spike was more than ready for him.

~*~*~*~*~

The two fell to the ground, claws and teeth sinking into any available flesh. Spike lost a few layers of skin on his bare back as he slid across the hard floor. Their pants, the only covering either wore, were shredded beneath greedy hands desperate to feel the other’s desire.

Spike, the more cognizant of the two, was first. His hand wrapped around Angelus’ cock and stroked him almost painfully. Once. Twice. Then fangs were at his neck, tearing into tender flesh, drawing deeply of his blood. Spike groaned, his hand faltering for a moment as Angelus fed from him.

“Sire…” he hissed, head falling back to better expose his throat. Allowing Angelus to drink his fill.

Long moments passed in which Spike felt separated from himself, floating on a wave of pure, unadulterated bliss. Yet, he was never more connected to Angelus than this moment.

Blood continued to leave him at an alarming rate. Spike felt himself weaken, but still did not throw his grandsire off. Angelus needed his blood to heal, and it would be a simple matter to take to the streets afterwards and find his own meal. He wouldn’t give up this experience for anything. It had been so long. Too long.

Spike was aware on some level of Angelus pulling back and nuzzling the marks he’d made. Aware, too, of being stripped of his jeans and rolled to his stomach. He hadn’t the strength to heft himself to all fours, but it didn’t matter. Angelus was there to do it for him.

When he was finally breached, it was almost anticlimactic. The bite had seen to that. It was a wonder Spike hadn’t come from that alone. But then Angelus got going, his dick stabbing at his prostate with each powerful thrust, and what blood Spike had left in his system went straight to his cock.

“Sire,” Spike gasped, wanting… needing release.

Angelus gave it to him.

Spike felt his upper body lifted until his back brushed against his grandsire’s chest. A hand found its way to his cock and began stroking him. Harder and faster as Angelus thrust into him from behind. His body was drawn tighter and tighter.

The kiss of death came when Angelus found his neck again, fangs striking unerringly over Drusilla’s mark.

He came hard, thick ropes of semen shooting from his cock and landing on the floor in front of him, finally dribbling down onto the hand that had yet to leave off stroking his dick.

“Angelus,” he finally whimpered when he was reduced to dry spasms. Pleasure beginning to turn to pain.

It was enough.

He was shoved forward, onto the cool floor. His oversensitive cock was crushed between his body and the ground, but he didn’t care. Angelus had draped his body over his back, covering him from head to toe. He turned his head to the side and closed his eyes, and let the feeling of Angelus fucking him wash over him, reveling in every grunt and groan his grandsire made as he sought his own release.

Another bite, this time to Spike’s shoulder, sent Angelus over the edge. He growled around the flesh in his mouth, and Spike did nothing more than nod in acknowledgement of the possessive tone. Neither did he move when Angelus finally collapsed on top of him, utterly spent. He was too sated to move, and the heavier weight of his grandsire stretched out upon his back was oddly comforting.

At some point, Spike drifted off to sleep, not waking until Angelus pulled free and made to stand.

“Hungry,” he mumbled, too weak to move, already feeling himself drifting off again. So, he missed Angelus sneaking out of the mansion.

~*~*~*~*~

Naked, Angelus took to the trees, still not fully aware of his surroundings. But, he’d been compelled to escape his shelter and seek food for what he knew, on a purely instinctive level, was his childe.

He wasn’t long on the hunt when he encountered a couple out exploring the woods. He struck quickly, before either could sense his presence, easily snapping the girl’s neck before she had a chance to scream. The boy he let run for a bit, taking pleasure in the fear pouring off him like the most fragrant of perfumes, finally bringing him down minutes later with a well-placed tackle. 

Angelus drank quickly, greedily, then left the body where it fell when he was through.

He needed to hurry home with his prize, a gift for his boy that had so sweetly given of his own life’s blood.

Prompt #26: Corset

Title: Reckless Intention
Summary: The continuation of The Call of Blood. Not sure if there'll be more to this one or not.

Spike let himself into his and Angelus’ latest digs, a townhouse in Greenwich Village, courtesy of a demon that had owed Spike a favor. It was still early yet by their standards, barely gone two o’clock. Angelus was still out, would probably be gone for another few hours given his latest “project.” He’d taken one look at the girl – some blonde that bore a marked resemblance to the slayer – his grandsire had singled out and barely refrained from snorting.  

Leaving Sunnydale without doing proper justice to the slayer had galled Angelus and this girl was prep-work, or so Angelus called it, for their return to the Hellmouth.  

He grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator and took a healthy swig. Smiled at remembering how he’d been the level-headed one for once, reminding Angelus that he wasn’t up to taking on the slayer just yet. Plus, there’d been the second slayer to contend with; that girl looked like she could go a few rounds even without her slayer abilities. He’d have to make sure he’d get a piece of that action when they returned.  

They’d been in New York for a few months now, allowing Angelus a leisurely convalescence. He and his grandsire had left without warning almost two weeks to the day Angelus had been spit back from whatever hell dimension he’d been sent to, stealing out of the mansion just after the sun had set, knowing the slayer was due to stop by later after her patrol.  

Spike thought about the slayer every now and then, wondering what she was doing, if she was still pining for “her” Angel.  

He and Angelus had driven through the night, putting as much distance between them and Sunnydale as possible. They’d spent the majority of the time laughing, imagining the look on the slayer’s face when she encountered the abandoned mansion. How she probably spent hours frantically searching for any sign of Angelus. They’d debated leaving a pile of ashes, but his grandsire hadn’t wanted the girl thinking he was dead… only missing.  

Angelus figured at some point she’d break down and enlist the aid of her friends, but Spike had been skeptical. The girl had held her cards close to the vest the entire time Angelus had been leading her on.  

And hadn’t that been a treat? 

Angelus had played the martyred Angel to perfection, manipulating the girl, alienating her from her friends. Spike had thought the whole thing a bloody riot. Angelus would make matters worse, affecting faces meant to induce hysterics whenever her back was turned. It was a wonder Spike hadn’t given them up with his barely suppressed laughter as he’d spied on the two from the safety of the shadows.  

Spike had understood his grandsire’s need, his reason for lingering in Sunnydale, rather than disappearing at the first opportunity – even if it had been unwise. Mind games had always been Angelus’ thing. Leading the slayer on, convinced that she was dealing with Angel, allowed him to keep a modicum of pride. Especially given that day after day his dreams were plagued with his time spent in the hell dimension she’d sent him to, dreams so vivid he would often moan or cry out in his sleep. The aftermath of which he spent trembling in Spike’s arms, cursing the girl to perdition.  

The doorbell rang, pulling Spike from his reverie, and he set his bottle of beer down on the counter and went to open the door.  

Gibbs, a demon specializing in human slaves, stood outside looking slightly harried but respectful. Spike spared a brief glance at the girl standing docilely at his side, her face concealed by a hooded cloak, then gestured the handler inside.  

Money had already exchanged hands, so it was only a matter of Gibbs relinquishing the girl’s leash – which he did almost immediately after removing her cloak. He took a few minutes showing Spike a few basic commands, gave brief instructions on feedings and the like, then passed over ownership papers, along with a certificate of the girl’s virginity.  

Spike’s nostrils flared, already imagining the fun he and Angelus were going to have.  

Gibbs refused his perfunctory offer of a drink, citing his need to conclude his other business dealings before leaving New York, so Spike saw the demon to the door.  

“Well, luv. Don’t you look a treat?” he smirked, having turned around to admire his latest acquisition.   

The girl was scared, but then who wouldn’t be, given that she’d been sold to a vampire as a human pet. She did her best to stand still as his gaze raked her body from head to toe. And what a lovely one it was at that. Firm breasts, narrow waist, legs that went on forever. Smooth porcelain-like skin just begging to be marked. Angelus would be thanking him right properly.  

Speaking of… he needed to get the girl dolled up and ready for his grandsire’s return. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Spike met Angelus at the door, eagerly submitting as he was immediately manhandled to the floor. On nights the two went their separate ways to feed, his grandsire often returned home horny and ready to fuck, and more often than not, the two didn’t make it to the bedroom… at least not until their initial lust was slaked.    

Tonight was different, however. Spike had kept mum for an entire week about the girl who was now ensconced upstairs in their bedroom. He was eager to see Angelus’ reaction to their new toy.  

Somehow he managed to shove Angelus back a bit so he could get a word in edgewise. Seeing his grandsire’s disgruntled expression, however, made him lean up and attempt to kiss the pout away. Which resulted in several more minutes of kissing and gropes and buttons being undone— 

“Angelus… wait…” he finally managed to gasp out. 

“Later.” 

“But—” Spike tried to get out, but ended up moaning as blunt teeth nibbled on his neck. He writhed helplessly, needing more, the girl now forgotten in the face of his need.  

“Angelus… yes… bite me… ple—” 

Angelus bit him, more because Spike had asked rather than any real desire to feed just yet. He felt Spike’s hands on the back of his neck, holding him in place, pushing him to take more. His childe was well fed, and Angelus indulged himself for a minute or two before reluctantly pulling back, returning his attention to the mouth that was, even now, starting to pout. He gave Spike a quick, hard peck then stood. 

“For once I’d like to make it to the bedroom,” he explained, as he offered Spike a hand up. 

“Yeah… about that,” Spike started, finally remembering the girl. He grinned, noticing Angelus’ look, how his nostrils flared, having finally noticed the human in their midst.  

“Are they delivering these days?” 

Spike snorted. “Not hardly. This one’s special. Picked her up from Gibbs. Girl’s got papers and everything. Come look.” 

Angelus arched a brow but followed along as Spike beckoned him upstairs. 

The door to their bedroom was open. Candles covered nearly every available surface and provided the only means of light in the room. Spike let Angelus go inside first, and he did, stopping just inside the door.  

The girl was standing in the far corner, her back to them. She wore a traditional corset, something Angelus had not seen since having a soul shoved down his throat. Long, dark hair was swept high and artfully arranged on top of her head, leaving the long column of her neck bare.  

“Perfect, isn’t she?” Spike whispered in his ear. “A virgin too. You like?” 

Angelus nodded. The girl was comely enough. Very comely, he noted as she turned slightly and he was able to see her profile. 

“Then, what say we have a little fun?” 

Angelus frowned at Spike’s comment. Turning away from the girl, he pinned his childe with a look. He took in Spike’s smug expression and for reasons unknown, reasons he dared not examine too closely, he became very angry.  

“You seem pretty pleased with yourself, boy. Are you growing weary of your Sire’s affection? Do you think to offer the girl up as a substitute? Take off for greener pastures?” He rushed forward and grabbed Spike’s shirt, then slammed him against the wall.  “Do you, boy? Answer me!” 

Spike shook his head, denying Angelus’ outrageous accusations. 

“No, Sire,” Spike answered honestly, at a complete loss as to Angelus’ sudden shift in moods. It wasn’t like they’d never shared a girl – or boy, for that matter – before. Hell, Angelus had usually been the one to suggest it. 

“No?” Angelus growled. “Somehow, I’m not convinced.” 

“Please, Sire,” Spike whined, unsure what, exactly, he was begging for. The girl had obviously been a bad idea. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think Angelus was jealous. But that was surely just wishful thinking on his part. Angelus did not get jealous; he would have to care about him first.   

“Please, Sire, what?” Angelus demanded belligerently, slamming Spike’s head against the wall again. “Please, Sire, let me show you that I belong to you? Is that what you were trying to say?” 

“No… I mean, yes. Yes. Anything, Sire. The girl doesn’t mean anything. I swear.” Spike forced himself not to cringe as he met the amber-tinged eyes of his grandsire. He leaned forward, attempting to kiss his lips, and froze when Angelus drew back slightly, rebuffing him.  

That avenue denied him, Spike dropped to his knees and began fumbling with the fastenings to Angelus’ pants. His grandsire might refuse a kiss, but he wouldn’t refuse a blowjob.  

The hiss of the zipper was overly-loud in the quiet room.  

Spike didn’t bother with preliminaries; no sooner had Angelus’ cock sprung free than he grabbed it with his hand and swallowed him down. He employed every bit of knowledge acquired over the years to bring Angelus off, tongue and hands working in tandem to maximize his grandsire’s pleasure.  

Angelus’ husky moan was music to Spike’s ears. The fingers that found their way into his hair unsettling the slicked-back curls were his cue that Angelus was enjoying himself and about to take control. He relaxed his throat muscles… waiting. 

The grip in his hair tightened, but not for the reason Spike had thought. When Angelus pulled out of his mouth, he was all set to make his displeasure known and to hell with the consequences.  

“Take off your clothes.” 

Spike shut his mouth and did like Angelus demanded.  

~*~*~*~*~ 

“Mine,” Angelus snarled, and Spike felt a shudder go through him yet again. This was the latest in a long list of possessive monikers his grandsire had uttered as he fucked him right there on the floor, but by far this one was the most pleasing.  

Angelus wanted him. Was possessive of him. Extremely so, apparently.  

Spike yelped and nearly lost his balance as Angelus changed the angle of his thrusts and brushed against his prostrate. Once. Twice. The third time, Spike nearly came.  

Which would have been a huge no-no. Bigger than bringing home the girl apparently had been.  

Angelus must have guessed his predicament, because his hand closed around his cock, causing Spike to yelp, but for an entirely different reason.  

“Sire,” Spike pleaded. He nearly sighed in relief when he felt Angelus drape over his back, easing his grip slightly. The leather and silk felt cool against his bare thighs and back; he’d forgotten that Angelus hadn’t bothered to disrobe.  

“Who do you belong to, boy?” Angelus whispered in his ear as his fist went to work on Spike’s cock, matching each thrust of his hips. 

“You, sire… you.” 

“Come here, girl,” Angelus commanded in that same quiet tone, and it took Spike a minute to remember that she was even in the room, his world having narrowed to him and Angelus the second he dropped to his knees. Spike watched her walk forward without hesitation, though her eyes were wide, frightened. She stopped a few feet in front of them and waited. 

Angelus was speaking again, but Spike was having a hard time paying attention, given that Angelus had yet to stop fucking him… or fisting him. 

“… isn’t he beautiful?” 

The girl nodded and Spike wondered if she actually meant it or was only agreeing because it was the safe thing to do. 

“Yes, he is. Isn’t he? But know this, girl. He may fuck you… may suck that cunt of yours and make you come like you never have before. But he belongs to me. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, master.”  

Angelus smirked. The girl definitely knew her place. He might keep her around for a bit yet.  

“Good. Go wait for us on the bed. We’ll join you in a minute.”

Prompt #1: Moan

Title: Sweet Torture
Summary: Set during What's My Line, pt. 2. Drusilla has her fun with Angel. But then, so does Spike...

The tortured screams coming from the other room were music to Spike’s ears. As was the twinkling laughter as Drusilla had her fun. He’d give her another few minutes then he’d interrupt her play.  

He had a hundred years worth of rage towards his grandsire to work through and he wanted his turn too. 

“All finished, Princess?” Spike asked an hour later.  

Drusilla pouted prettily at being interrupted, even more so when he denied her request to stay while he played, but Spike was adamant, and sent her off with a chaste kiss to full, red-tinged lips. Helped her to the door like he was a gallant knight and she his lady fair. 

“See that she eats something,” he ordered the minion standing nearby. Then he shut the door and locked it to ensure that he and Angel would not be interrupted.  

On the return trip to the bed, Spike shrugged out of his duster and red overshirt and dropped them on the table.  

Angel was looking decidedly worse for wear, Spike noticed as he crouched down beside the vampire. His chest and stomach were still smoking from the holy water that Drusilla had used; the smell of charred flesh permeated the air causing his nose to crinkle in distaste. Angel was in agony, no doubt about it.  

And it wasn’t just because he’d been tortured for the last few hours either. 

Spike glanced at the bulge in his grandsire’s pants and smirked. Say what he will, the soul couldn’t prevent him from getting off on the pain. He trailed a finger down Angel’s hardened length, delighting in his grandsire's indrawn breath as he did so. 

“Seems you got a bit of a problem here, mate.” 

“Fuck you, Spike.” 

“Tsk. Tsk. ‘m not the one tied up, just now. Though I suppose if you ask real nice, I could be persuaded to climb on your lap and have myself a bit of a ride.” Spike saw the tell-tale jump of Angel’s dick and laughed. He leaned in close and whispered in Angel’s ear, “Always did like my ass, didn’t you, Angelus? Said I was the tightest piece you ever had.” 

“Spike,” Angel growled, but it came out sounding more like a moan.  

“How long’s it been since you’ve gotten laid?” Spike asked, cupping Angel’s crotch and giving it a firm squeeze. He watched Angel’s jaw clench as he tried to hold back from making a sound. “Was it me? Was I the last one to make you cry out in ecstasy?” 

Spike nuzzled into Angel’s neck and bit down with blunt teeth.  

“Couldn’t get enough of your favorite, could you, Sire?” he murmured against Angel’s throat. “Was that why you went off alone with Darla?” he sneered as he drew back to stare Angel in the face. “She couldn’t stand the competition for your affections so she conspired to leave me and Dru behind?” 

Angel wasn’t answering, so Spike gripped his hair and yanked his head back. 

“Answer me, Sire!” 

“Will…” Angel gasped out. 

“I’m not your William anymore! Name’s Spike now, remember?” Spike snarled. Pissed because he wanted to cave at the pleading sound of Angel’s voice. The one that had haunted his dreams at times over the last century. “No… you don’t. But I’ll help to refresh your memory. I’ve learned a lot since you’ve been gone. Want to see all the things I’ve learned, Sire?” 

Spike stood abruptly and eyed the slack in the chains securing Angel to the bedposts at the foot of the bed. Applying a bit of preternatural strength, he lifted his grandsire off the ground and flipped him so that he was stretched out prone on top of the bed. It left his arms suspended in the air in front of him, and Spike figured that after an hour or so in that position, Angel would start to feel the burn.  

“Seem to remember a similar situation, only it was me that was trussed up face down on the bed. Refresh my memory, Sire. What happened next?” 

“Clothes,” Angel gasped out, the pain of his tortured chest pressed against the mattress making it difficult for him to draw breath enough to form words. 

“That’s right. Now I remember. You took great pleasure in cutting off my clothes, as I recall. Only fair I do the same, isn’t it?” 

Spike didn’t wait for an answer before he pulled a knife from his boot and cut the pants from Angel’s body. His cocked jumped at the sight; Angel looked good bound and naked, and completely at Spike’s mercy. His mouth watered just thinking of the fun he was about to have.  

His own clothes disappeared with all possible haste, left to fall on the floor in an disorganized heap. What surprised him was Angel turning his head to watch him disrobe, how his eyes sparked with lust as his body was revealed. It made his dick twitch in anticipation of what was to come.

Deny it all he wanted, his soul-having grandsire wanted him.

Prompt #35: Intercourse

Title: Day of Reckoning
Summary: Set during Not Fade Away. It's four against hundreds, maybe thousands. Angel has signed away his shanshu and knows that tonight will most likely be his last night alive. A selfless sacrifice is what he has planned - just the thing to gain the Powers' attention.

“You have endured the required trials.” 

“Bloody right I have,” Spike muttered weakly. “So, you give me what I want. Make me what I was... so Buffy can get what she deserves.”  

“Very well. We will return your soul.” 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Spike barely felt the rain as he stared at the entrance to the alley where every imaginable type of demon slowly stalked their way, armed to the nines and ready to bring hell on earth. Overhead, the dragon Angel had laid claim to batted its wings causing a gush of cool wind to rush over his face.  

The muted din gave way to a deafening roar as various battle cries were bellowed by their opponents.  

Spike had but a moment to wonder how long Charlie would survive the initial swarm, whether Angel would indeed get to battle the dragon, and what mojo the blue demigod had left to wield before they were besieged by the first wave of angry demons. 

His sword easily deflected a Fyarl’s first strike, then Spike spun, his body flowing with the attack so that the demon stumbled forward and presented his unguarded back to him. A downward arc of gleaming steel, and he’d separated head from grotesque body, and the first of what appeared to be thousands more was down. 

After that, it was an endless sea of demons, and he and the others fought until arms went numb. Then they fought on adrenaline, and a driving need to survive.  

Charlie didn’t last long – though it was longer than the ten minutes Illyria had predicted. He died a hero, taking the sword meant for Spike’s head. Spike wasn’t given a moment to mourn the man’s passing before two and then three more demons filled the hole. 

More time passed.  

Spike had long since given up figuring out where Angel was. He knew only that the vamp wasn’t dead yet; the telltale signal of one of his own passing had yet to cast its gloomy pall. Illyria was still relatively close, no more than ten feet away from him. She was still kicking ass and taking names, eager to exact revenge on Wesley’s behalf, though she didn’t know why.  

His arms were getting weaker by the second, barely able to hold the sword up to defend himself and Spike knew that it was only a matter of time before he met his own dusty end. He was surprised that he’s lasted as long as he had… especially given their uneven odds. Four against thousands did not make for a win for the good guys. 

Or so he thought until the sky abruptly cleared and the alley was flooded with unnatural light much brighter than the moon’s pale cast. The heavens themselves seemed to open up and unleash their fury. A bright beam, much like that of the amulet Spike had worn in the Hellmouth, cut through the masses, obliterating hundreds of demons in seconds. A strong gust of wind rushed down over his head and Spike looked up to see Angel on the back of the dragon. Watched as he plunged his sword through its back. An anguished bellow and then it was falling, plummeting at increasing speed towards the pile of demon debris. 

For one horrifying second, Spike could only watch as his sire – not the souled up version, but the one locked away inside a cage – fell with the beast.  

“Angelus!” Spike may have screamed. He wasn’t sure.  

Then his vision was affected by the blinding light making it impossible to see anything. His ears rang with the scream of demons, overwhelming in their intensity. Until he was forced to squat down against a wall, hands covering his ears to block out the noise.  

Finally, unable to withstand the assault on his senses any longer, Spike blacked out. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Angel jumped free of the dragon and managed to fall onto the fire escape stairwell rather than crashing into the pile of scattered body parts and ash. He received a broken leg for his trouble, but nothing that a quick jerk to put it back into position and a pint or two of blood wouldn’t fix.  

His eyes scanned the alley and he noticed Illyria kicking up various piles of debris, looking for anything that hadn’t been done in by the mysterious burst of light. Gunn’s body was scattered in among demon remains – those that had been taken down before what could only have been the Powers’ intervention.  

‘Bout time. 

Angel was relieved to see – or his demon was, anyway – Spike slumped against a wall, apparently passed out. But still relatively alive. Or undusted.  

His snarky childe had more lives than a cat. 

Angel smiled at the thought and bent over to realign his leg. Bit back a groan as he reset the bone.  

And promptly screamed in agony. 

“No!” he cried, recognizing the pain for what it was. His soul. “Oh god. No…”  

The Shanshu. 

A bright light, a feeling of welcome – of home – greeted him then, and Angel’s soul gladly gave up the body to the demon left behind. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Spike was tired when he first woke, but his utter exhaustion paled in comparison to the feeling of contentment experienced by his demon. He hummed his pleasure as cool fingers traced up along his leg and over his ass.  

“Mmmm…” he purred happily and arched into the tender caress.  

The amused chuckle did much to bring him back to some semblance of consciousness, but it was his name being called – William, as opposed to Spike – in just such a way, that had him stiffening on what he now recognized as a bed beneath his battered body. His battered naked body.  

“Relax, boy. I’m not going to hurt you. Well, not unless you ask me to,” Angelus added as an afterthought.  

The mattress dipped as Angelus sat down on the edge near his hip, and Spike bit off a moan as one hand became two on his back. It had been so long since he’d been touched in this manner, by strong hands that knew just where and how to rub, scratch, claw, and pet to bring him to a fevered pitch.  

“Angelus,” Spike whined, determinedly ignoring his soul’s inner voice that told him that this was wrong.  

This was his sire… his teacher and mentor. The vampire that had molded Spike into the demon he’d become. Spike knew it, his demon knew it. And there was no way in the world he’d be able to find it within him to make Angelus stop.  

Not now. Probably not ever.  

“Been wanting to do this for a long time,” Angelus murmured next to Spike’s ear as he stretched out alongside him. “The Soul wouldn’t let me though. Knew it would be as good as letting me back out to play.” 

“Sire…” 

“Missed you, boy. Missed this,” he added as he slipped a finger between pale ass cheeks and rubbed back and forth along Spike’s hole. “Was too crazy the last time I came back to do what I should have done. Goddamn gypsies. Remind me to never eat another one of them again.” 

Spike muttered what could have passed for an agreement into the pillow, but it was choked off when he was suddenly breeched. He hissed as one dry finger slid in as far as it would go. Nearly came up off the bed as it rotated and brushed over his prostate.

“Angelus!” 

“Sorry, boyo,” Angelus told him, his voice slipping into that of his Irish brogue. “Been too long to prepare you proper. Gotta have you now.” 

Spike felt the give and take of the mattress again as Angelus settled himself between his parted legs. Let himself be drawn to all fours. A nudge at his ass was all the warning he got before Angelus slammed his way home and reclaimed him good and proper.  

“God, you’re tight. Smartest decision Dru ever made, turning you as a virgin,” Angelus ground out as he slowly withdrew only to ram his way home again, his entry made easier this time by having spilt his childe’s blood. 

Not that Spike was complaining in the least, eagerly lifting his hips into his sire’s thrusts. His demon reveled in being taken. Possessed. Claimed. He just barely managed to refrain from shouting more, and harder, and worst of all… please.  

It was bad enough he was allowing this – whatever it was – to happen. Part of Spike was scared that at any moment, he’d see a return of the crazed demon that had called himself his sire. Ready to resume his deranged plan to bring hell to earth. Never mind the severe consequences his actions would cause.  

Then there was his own soul, fought for and won – even if it hadn’t quite been what Spike had in mind at the time. If Angelus were to find out… 

Spike went willingly as he was pulled upright so that his back was pressed up against Angelus’ chest. A hand found its way to his cock and began stroking it with a harsh grip. Spike could feel his body tense in preparation of his sire’s bite, knowing the demon wouldn’t be happy with anything less than Spike’s total surrender. 

He came the instant he felt fangs slice into the barely discernible marks on his neck. Cried out some unintelligible nonsense as the fist on his cock milked every bit of spunk he seemed to possess. A guttural “mine” growled possessively against his throat and he felt his sire’s own cool release splash against his insides.  

Spike gave himself one moment to enjoy being reclaimed by his sire with fangs and cock. A moment that, had his soul been secured in any other means than the trials he’d gone through, would have caused it to float away, back into the ether.

It was his deepest desire to belong to someone. In the absence of his true sire, and later Drusilla, the chip had enabled him to latch onto the Slayer’s gang, his demon instinctively seeking the strongest of the bunch – the Slayer – to place its affection. After Sunnydale and his subsequent resurrection, that need to be a part of someone, of something, had him clinging to the souled up version of his sire and his small band of human pets. If he was snarkier than normal towards Angel, well, that was because his demon knew deep down that Angel was just a pale imitation. A substitute for what he secretly craved.  

Spike felt himself lowered down onto the bed once more. Felt his sire’s much larger frame stretch out on top of him.  

The unfairness of it all struck Spike suddenly; he could feel tears well up behind closed eyelids, the salty tang sure to alert his sire, but unable to be prevented.  

“Well, I see fucking it out of you is no’ gonna work,” Angelus grumbled ruefully. “Want to tell me what’s going on, Childe.” 

His sire’s tone brooked no argument and Spike sighed as Angelus shifted off him and settled next to him. He didn’t move, didn’t bother to turn over and face the condemnation he knew would be in deep brown eyes. He shrunk in on himself, feeling tainted somehow – and wasn’t that a bloody riot – as he told Angelus of the trials he’d suffered through.  

“Wanted the bloody chip out of my head. Got a soul shoved down my throat instead. Shoulda’ known the deck was stacked against me.” 

“What did you say… exactly?” 

“So, you give me what I want. Make me what I was... so Buffy can get what she deserves.” 

Angelus mulled that bit of information over for a minute. Undead for over two hundred years and he’d yet to really go up against a slayer. Unlike his impetuous childe, he had tended to avoid them.  

Until Buffy.  

He’d gone about things all wrong with the girl, Angelus realized that now. If he’d killed the Slayer straight off, rather than spending all that time toying with her friends, he would have had his boy back a long time ago, and unencumbered as he now was. 

He couldn’t do anything about the second bit, but he could remedy the first. And doing away with the Immortal’s latest plaything would be the proverbial feather in his cap; he owed the sanctimonious asshole for encroaching on his family. 

“Time for a road trip, boyo.” 

Angelus had his childe trussed up before he could react. Knowing instinctively that Spike would put up a fight if he revealed his plans for the Slayer. The damn soul would practically demand it. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Angelus stared down at his childe, arms and legs secured to the four corners of the bed with sturdy rope. He smirked at the cock that lay hard and heavy against Spike’s stomach. His boy looked damned fuckable trussed up like he was. But the icing on the cake was the evil gleam shining out of deep blue eyes. 

“You gonna stare at me all night, or do something about this,” Spike snarked as he wiggled his hips enticingly. 

Angelus lifted one sardonic brow; his lips stretched into a wide grin.  

“Ah, Will, always an impatient lad…” 

“You know you love it.” 

Very true, but Spike didn’t need to know that. He’d never be able to live with him otherwise.  

Angelus moved away from the bed and stared out the window, ignoring his childe’s mumbled curses to “bloody get on with it already.” 

Paris at night hadn’t changed all that much since he’d visited it last, over a hundred years ago. They’d come here to disappear, and Paris, with a population of over two million, was the most likely place to visit after Rome. With both the Council and the Immortal’s goons gunning for him after he’d killed the Slayer, Angelus had decided a strategic retreat was in order. 

He’d been treated with a nice surprise on returning to their hotel room to see Spike restored to his former self, the demon in him no longer burdened with a soul. Something to do with Buffy finally getting what she deserved – at least according to Spike – had fulfilled his wish and the soul had miraculously disappeared; it having only been needed to bring about the instances of Angelus’ return and him doing away with the girl. A long and torturous journey, to be sure, but it had been explained that Spike bearing the soul for as long as he had was all part of the process to get his reward.

Angelus had snorted at the demon’s reasoning, but in the end, hadn’t cared. He had Spike back, really back, and that was all that had mattered to him.  

Needless to say, their departure had been pushed back several hours after that explanation as he’d reclaimed his childe. Spike had been most vocal in his acceptance, completing the blood bond at his insistence.  

The sting of his childe’s fangs was something he’d not thought he’d ever feel again. Their reunion had been marked with blood and sex, and this time, this time, Will’s cries of “more” and “yes,” and “harder, sire, please” were music to Angelus’ ears. 

It was only as they lay spent on the tattered sheets, Spike curled up against Angelus’ side, that his childe had spoken. And for once, Angelus had listened, eager to hear what thoughts occupied his boy’s mind.  

“Never wanted him like I do you. But you were in there, ya know? It was you I saw whenever he’d stare at me with contempt. He was always ashamed of me, hating that he’d—” 

“Not ashamed of you,” Angelus murmured in a rare show of affection. “I created you, molded you… made you mine.” 

“Yours,” Spike agreed quietly. 

Then the moment had been gone and Spike was once more his snarky self. Angelus had cuffed him on the head and told him to get dressed. That they were leaving town. Revenge was such a sticky business.  

Their journey had led them here, to Paris. Whose nightlife was just the thing for two unsouled vampires eager to get back into the swing of things.  

It made him hard just thinking about all the fun he and his childe could get into. Not end-of-the-world fun this time. Just the two of them together, roaming the globe, fucking and feeding to their heart's content. 

Angelus turned away from the window and crossed the room back to the bed. Spike’s gaze, he noticed, was glued to his cock, how it bobbed slightly as he moved. 

“Need a hand with that, Sire?” 

“A hand, no,” Angelus replied as he straddled Spike’s chest. “A mouth, yes. Now be a good boy and open up.” 

Spike smirked, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He licked his lips and opened wide. 

“Damn, you feel good,” Angelus groaned as he shoved his cock down his childe’s throat. Watched entranced as his flesh sank between parted lips, a look of sublime pleasure on Spike’s face. “Like that, do you…? Yeah, you do. Damn… feels… yeah… like that, Will. Suck it.” 

Spike did, and Angelus blamed his recently departed soul and his enforced celibacy for his lack of staying power. Then again, Spike was an expert cocksucker and knew just how to suck and tease, apply a little bit of fangs— 

Angelus came with a roar at the feel of razor-sharp teeth digging in to the base of his cock. Slumped forward against the headboard when he was spent. He was barely aware of the tongue laving gently at his softening prick, paying particular attention to the tiny holes that marred his flesh. When he could move without appearing shaken, Angelus shifted off and down, settling himself along Spike’s flank. 

Spike grinned smugly at the languorous vampire at his side. He still had it. When several minutes went by without any reciprocation on his sire’s part, Spike became impatient again.

“Oi, Sire!” he complained, attempting to nudge his dick against Angelus’ leg.  

“Patience, boy.” 

“Sod patience!” he growled, lifting his head off the pillow to glare at his sire. “I’m hard!” 

A hand reached out and wrapped around Spike’s cock, gave it a good squeeze and a languid pump. “That you are, boyo. That you are.” 

“Angelus…” 

“Patience,” Angelus said again. “All good things come to those that wait.” 

“Better bloody well be worth it,” Spike grumbled as his head flopped back against the pillow. Settled in to wait until his sire couldn’t stand it anymore and finally decided to screw him into the mattress.  

He’d give him twenty… thirty minutes, max.