Crossover, Angel/Criminal Minds: Dark Matter
Title: Dark Matter
Fandom: Angel/Criminal Minds
Rating: Adult
Words: ~400
Characters: Spike/Spencer Reid
Summary: Written for comment_fic, to the prompt Criminal Minds/Angel, Spencer Reid/ Spike, author's choice.
Disclaimer: Nobody here is mine. Dammit.
Author's Note: Thanks to tsuki_no_bara :)
Spencer thinks -- in that moment, the fraction of a second it takes a fang to pierce the layers of his skin, epidermis and dermis, push through flesh and into the vein below -- that this is measurably better than the dilaudid. A subtraction, rather than an addition, leaving a craving that is wholly emotional in nature.
Spike cradles Spencer's wrist with one hand as he drinks, his other free to roam restlessly across Spencer's bare chest, up the line of his throat. Spike drags his fingers across Spencer's lips and Spencer turns his face toward the vampire and sighs.
He feels the pull in his arm first. Counts his own heartbeat, knowing that it only seems to slow and doesn't, in fact, alter to any significant degree. The illusion persists, a sensation as if his life is a slowly ebbing tide, drawn up his various limbs and then flowing away, leaving his mind as still and calm as a tidal pool.
Spike is careful with him, as careful as possible under the circumstances. Never too much, and not nearly as often as Spencer would prefer. He is feeding from the wrist tonight, which means Spencer will be pinning his shirt cuff down with his watch for a few days. Spencer catches Spike's free hand with his own, holds it there and sucks the tip of the middle finger into his mouth. Spike hums against the wound in his arm and Spencer smiles.
By day, Spencer is at the top of his game. Even Hotchner has noticed, radiating his quiet approval at every puzzle solved, each case they successfully close. Doubts about Spencer's fitness as an agent, his ability to cope with the trauma Tobias inflicted, all vanished with the clear glass vials he tossed away the night Spike first bit him.
No one asks why, or how.
Spike lifts his head and wipes his mouth on a corner of sheet. He won't kiss Spencer yet, not right away. Spencer has tasted his own blood before and he's not fond of the flavor. Instead Spike closes his hand around Spencer's wrist, sprawls across him and nuzzles at his ear. "You should eat more."
"I will. I promise." Spencer's body is slowly waking again, though his mind remains clear. His erection, when it comes, will surprise him; it always does. Nothing about Spencer's body surprises Spike, least of all this. They will have sex and then Spencer will sleep, and Spike will be gone when he wakes.
It's what they have and it works. And no one can ever know.
Fandom: Angel/Criminal Minds
Rating: Adult
Words: ~400
Characters: Spike/Spencer Reid
Summary: Written for comment_fic, to the prompt Criminal Minds/Angel, Spencer Reid/ Spike, author's choice.
Disclaimer: Nobody here is mine. Dammit.
Author's Note: Thanks to tsuki_no_bara :)
Spencer thinks -- in that moment, the fraction of a second it takes a fang to pierce the layers of his skin, epidermis and dermis, push through flesh and into the vein below -- that this is measurably better than the dilaudid. A subtraction, rather than an addition, leaving a craving that is wholly emotional in nature.
Spike cradles Spencer's wrist with one hand as he drinks, his other free to roam restlessly across Spencer's bare chest, up the line of his throat. Spike drags his fingers across Spencer's lips and Spencer turns his face toward the vampire and sighs.
He feels the pull in his arm first. Counts his own heartbeat, knowing that it only seems to slow and doesn't, in fact, alter to any significant degree. The illusion persists, a sensation as if his life is a slowly ebbing tide, drawn up his various limbs and then flowing away, leaving his mind as still and calm as a tidal pool.
Spike is careful with him, as careful as possible under the circumstances. Never too much, and not nearly as often as Spencer would prefer. He is feeding from the wrist tonight, which means Spencer will be pinning his shirt cuff down with his watch for a few days. Spencer catches Spike's free hand with his own, holds it there and sucks the tip of the middle finger into his mouth. Spike hums against the wound in his arm and Spencer smiles.
By day, Spencer is at the top of his game. Even Hotchner has noticed, radiating his quiet approval at every puzzle solved, each case they successfully close. Doubts about Spencer's fitness as an agent, his ability to cope with the trauma Tobias inflicted, all vanished with the clear glass vials he tossed away the night Spike first bit him.
No one asks why, or how.
Spike lifts his head and wipes his mouth on a corner of sheet. He won't kiss Spencer yet, not right away. Spencer has tasted his own blood before and he's not fond of the flavor. Instead Spike closes his hand around Spencer's wrist, sprawls across him and nuzzles at his ear. "You should eat more."
"I will. I promise." Spencer's body is slowly waking again, though his mind remains clear. His erection, when it comes, will surprise him; it always does. Nothing about Spencer's body surprises Spike, least of all this. They will have sex and then Spencer will sleep, and Spike will be gone when he wakes.
It's what they have and it works. And no one can ever know.