Story: "A Sense of Feeling" - Spangel
Title: A Sense of Feeling
Author: Guardian Erin
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Angel: After the Fall
Pairing: Angel/Spike
Disclaimer: Do not own.
Summary: Angel has been living off of magic for so long, he's missed out on what it feels like to be alive. Written for 'First come, first killed' at taming and 'Work' from fanfic100.
Notes: Yes, this is a little porny. I'm still bad at it, okay? I'm very aware. ;_;
"Perhaps you should quit this vigilante business," Wesley suggested as he browsed through a shelf of magical items, medical supplies, and books.
"You're only saying that because they want you to," Angel said. He winced in pain as he pressed his hand against the wound in his stomach. It had been a long time since he had to worry about dying from blood loss.
"We're running out of supplies here," Wesley stated. He'd become colder since he died, but Angel suspected that was because of the Senior Partners. They kept him bound to what was left of Wolfram and Hart, and for whatever reason, it left Wesley reading from a script.
Angel carefully applied antiseptics and bandaged his wounds. By the time he was finished, Wesley was standing in front of him with a small vial of pinkish liquid.
"Is that for healing?" Angel questioned. He was used to all sorts of odd healing magic and potions by now. After creating the magics that made him appear to be a vampire, even to Spike, Angel had complete confidence, and in many ways, dependence on the spells.
"It will help you heal, yes," Wesley said in a voice that immediately told Angel there was a catch. "More importantly, it will help you to sleep."
"I don't need anything to help me sleep," Angel said, as Wesley knew he would.
"You don't sleep as much as you ought to," Wesley said, "Especially since you come back wounded ninety percent of the time. A while ago, perhaps you could go without sleeping for days. But in your current... state, you have a high chance of getting yourself killed."
Angel sighed and looked at the little vial. The pink color was almost enticing, and the opportunity for true sleep would be bliss. Normally he would be highly suspicious of anything kicking around Wolfram and Hart, but he knew that if the Senior Partners wanted him dead so easily, he would already be dead.
"I won't get any freaky nightmares from that, will I?"
"Frankly, I doubt you'll dream at all."
"Oh." That was mildly disappointing, but as of lately, his dreams only left him with painful reminders of the ones he didn't save.
Angel took the pink vial and drank from it. He soon wished that he hadn't, because it tasted like cleaning fluid. He must have made a noise of disgust, because Wesley was giving him a funny look.
"When does it kick in?" Angel questioned.
"I have no idea," Wesley replied, unconcerned. "Why don't you lie down and wait?"
"Sure, why not," Angel flicked the vial across the room. It flew through Wesley's head and shattered against the opposite wall. Wesley glanced behind him and then took a wide step backward.
"I believe I'll take my leave," he said as Angel shifted to lie down on the cot.
"Yeah, that might be best," Angel said, even as Wesley vanished through the doorway to haunt some other part of the abandoned building. Angel closed his eyes, muttering to himself, "I'll be trying not to die of boredom."
As soon as his eyes drifted shut, Harmony tossed a thick folder onto his desk with a loud slap. Angel's eyes snapped open and he sat up, trying to pretend that he hadn't been dozing off. To his extreme dismay, he realized that his entire desk was covered with stacks upon stacks of papers.
"Wuh- what is all of this?" Angel asked, leafing through the tall stacks. A few papers slipped and fluttered onto the floor. "Is this all... mine?"
"You always tell me not to sleep on the job," Harmony whined, ignoring his question. "That's, like, totally unfair to the rest of us, you know."
With that, she turned in her pink stilettos and left his office. Outside of his windows, the building was buzzing with activity. Angel took a breath and put a hand to his face, wondering if he'd lost his mind. The papers were all written in gibberish - some sort of demonic language that didn't even remotely resemble any he'd ever seen.
As he dug through the papers, they seemed to grow around him, entrapping him and filling him with such stress that his head started to throb. He had to stop, his entire being suddenly filled with tension, his heart pounding away, louder and louder until he wished he had a hole to fall into.
When Spike strolled into the room, Angel found himself wishing for a gun instead.
"Get out," Angel said, but the words had no effect.
"Angel?" Spike moved slowly towards his desk, but Angel could only partially see him through all of the papers. "Can hear your heart for miles, pet. Now that you're a real boy."
"No. No one knows about that," Angel denied.
"Everyone knows," Spike shook his head, creeping closer. "You got your reward. You've always been a hard worker."
"It's not exactly how I pictured it," Angel muttered under his breath. He was now aware that he was still bleeding through his shirt, but couldn't remember how he got the wound.
"Course not," Spike planted his hands at the edge of the desk. "You've always been a first come, first killed kind of demon. But now you're a man. You can never have what you really want, because you don't even know what it is."
"And you do?" Angel scoffed quietly, realizing that Spike probably did. If there was anything Spike was good at, it was being able to read others.
"You want this." Spike started shoving papers off of the desk, the white sheets flying up into the air and spilling across the floor. As he cleared room, he put a knee up onto the desk, then the other. Angel wanted to protest, but then Spike gave a mighty shove, toppling entire stacks off of one side of the desk. Another mighty shove cleared the other side of the desk, and Angel felt nothing but relief.
The vampire crawled across the desk until he was directly in front of his sire. Angel's heart raced at the proximity of such an unnatural and dangerous creature. In the next second, Spike was slipping down into his lap, arms going around Angel's shoulders. His mouth went against Angel's neck, sucking and biting at the hot pulse just under the flesh.
"Oh God," Angel groaned, stretching his neck for more. The feeling of Spike's mouth and body pressing against him was the most sensuous experience in the world at the moment. It made him wonder exactly how long he'd gone without sex, and the answer had to be too long.
As he leaned back in his chair, Spike's mouth slipped lower, sucking hard at the front of his throat and collar bones. Angel felt him slipping down his body, leaving his lap to settle on the floor instead. When he looked again, Spike was on the floor, pushing Angel's knees apart.
He wanted to object, to remind himself how wrong this was, but then Spike's hands were kneading his thighs, his mouth seeking Angel's dick through his pants, and all reason was lost. His hands felt like lead when he lifted them to free himself. A tense second later, Spike's hands wrapped around his cock and started to stroke him.
Angel relaxed in his chair again, feeling his tensions build up and wash away again like waves, lessening each time. Spike said something to him, the words meaningless but accompanied by a purr that reverberated through Angel's body and lingered in his loins. Then he felt Spike's tongue licking across the head of his dick, and everything slipped away. Spike's tongue swirled around the tip, then swept down to lick the underside of his dick. The actions continued, almost torturous with pleasure until Spike finally took him into his mouth and swallowed him down. Angel's hips moved involuntarily, overcome by the feeling of being completely engulfed in the slick, cool mouth. Spike slid over him, tongue still fluttering around his shaft. After a while of blissful agony, Spike started a powerful sucking, increasing his efforts. When the blonde dug this nails into Angel's hips, he suddenly came, filling the vampire's mouth
When the pleasure started to subside, Angel felt as if he had lost something, a little bit more than what Spike had just swallowed. Maybe some piece of his sanity.
The vampire lifted his head, licking his lips in a way that shouldn't have been nearly as arousing as it was. Spike rose up over him again, hands sliding up from his hips to his waist. The vampire's mouth went to his stomach wound and started to lick at the wound until it started to throb and bleed more into his shirt. Spike finally moved up to his chest and started to stroke him repeatedly. Angel almost wanted to shove him away, but he felt as if he couldn't move.
"You want this, pet," Spike growled, nipping at the tender skin underneath Angel's chin. "I can taste it in you."
"This is what pleases you." The voice startled Angel at first, and he found Illyria lurking a few feet away from them, wearing a quizzical expression. "Moving your bodies together to create fluids."
"It's pleasure, love," Spike told her. "Like this," he added, licking a stripe across Angel's throat that made him groan.
Illyria's mouth feel open slightly in understanding. "Stimulating nerve endings."
"That's right," Spike nodded, his mouth close to Angel's ear. "Stimulation. Even the dead need to feel alive." Angel heard Spike's face shift an instant before the fangs pierced his throat. The pain made him rise up in surprise, but Spike clamped his limbs around him so he could not get away. Angel felt his blood being drained out of him, the feeling in his body washing away with it, and he realized that he had been dead for a while before this.
Angel woke up, sucking in a lungful of air. He sat up for a long moment before realizing he'd just come out of a dream.
"Are you alright?" Wesley questioned. "You sounded as if you were in pain, and it looks as if you've bled through your dressings."
Angel looked down at his stomach, realizing that he actually had bled through the bandages. Despite this, he couldn't feel anything at all, except for a tingling throughout his body.
"I'm fine. It was just a nightmare," Angel said pointedly.
Wesley simply said, "My apologies," and left the room yet again.
Angel ran his hands through his hair several times, trying to ignore how enjoyable the dream had been. It was sad that it had made him feel more than what his current life did. He'd been living like a dead man for so long, that Angel realized he didn't even know how to live.
Ironically enough, the Power That Be, or Senior Partners, or whatever cruel fates that played with his destiny had decided to make him human after he'd decided that he didn't want it anymore. That had to be the final joke on him - to grant his greatest wish when it was completely useless to him and he would have to spend every moment pretending it never happened.
The last thing he wanted was to be a slave to the whims of some force above his own. As far as he'd come, there was no way he could turn back now, and Wesley was right about one thing. In his current state, he was running a high risk of being killed. He needed something to fight for, something to feel for himself. Even Illyria felt something, as far as he could tell from her very enthusiastic fight with his dragon. A good fight was the only thing that got any sort of feeling out of him these days. Angel made a mental note to return the next day with his dragon, so the god could duke it out again with something of her own strength. It would probably distract her long enough to let him fight with Spike. The vampire was always ready to be beaten into a bloody pulp, and if he hit back hard enough, it might be enough to make Angel feel alive for a while.
Author: Guardian Erin
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Angel: After the Fall
Pairing: Angel/Spike
Disclaimer: Do not own.
Summary: Angel has been living off of magic for so long, he's missed out on what it feels like to be alive. Written for 'First come, first killed' at taming and 'Work' from fanfic100.
Notes: Yes, this is a little porny. I'm still bad at it, okay? I'm very aware. ;_;
"Perhaps you should quit this vigilante business," Wesley suggested as he browsed through a shelf of magical items, medical supplies, and books.
"You're only saying that because they want you to," Angel said. He winced in pain as he pressed his hand against the wound in his stomach. It had been a long time since he had to worry about dying from blood loss.
"We're running out of supplies here," Wesley stated. He'd become colder since he died, but Angel suspected that was because of the Senior Partners. They kept him bound to what was left of Wolfram and Hart, and for whatever reason, it left Wesley reading from a script.
Angel carefully applied antiseptics and bandaged his wounds. By the time he was finished, Wesley was standing in front of him with a small vial of pinkish liquid.
"Is that for healing?" Angel questioned. He was used to all sorts of odd healing magic and potions by now. After creating the magics that made him appear to be a vampire, even to Spike, Angel had complete confidence, and in many ways, dependence on the spells.
"It will help you heal, yes," Wesley said in a voice that immediately told Angel there was a catch. "More importantly, it will help you to sleep."
"I don't need anything to help me sleep," Angel said, as Wesley knew he would.
"You don't sleep as much as you ought to," Wesley said, "Especially since you come back wounded ninety percent of the time. A while ago, perhaps you could go without sleeping for days. But in your current... state, you have a high chance of getting yourself killed."
Angel sighed and looked at the little vial. The pink color was almost enticing, and the opportunity for true sleep would be bliss. Normally he would be highly suspicious of anything kicking around Wolfram and Hart, but he knew that if the Senior Partners wanted him dead so easily, he would already be dead.
"I won't get any freaky nightmares from that, will I?"
"Frankly, I doubt you'll dream at all."
"Oh." That was mildly disappointing, but as of lately, his dreams only left him with painful reminders of the ones he didn't save.
Angel took the pink vial and drank from it. He soon wished that he hadn't, because it tasted like cleaning fluid. He must have made a noise of disgust, because Wesley was giving him a funny look.
"When does it kick in?" Angel questioned.
"I have no idea," Wesley replied, unconcerned. "Why don't you lie down and wait?"
"Sure, why not," Angel flicked the vial across the room. It flew through Wesley's head and shattered against the opposite wall. Wesley glanced behind him and then took a wide step backward.
"I believe I'll take my leave," he said as Angel shifted to lie down on the cot.
"Yeah, that might be best," Angel said, even as Wesley vanished through the doorway to haunt some other part of the abandoned building. Angel closed his eyes, muttering to himself, "I'll be trying not to die of boredom."
As soon as his eyes drifted shut, Harmony tossed a thick folder onto his desk with a loud slap. Angel's eyes snapped open and he sat up, trying to pretend that he hadn't been dozing off. To his extreme dismay, he realized that his entire desk was covered with stacks upon stacks of papers.
"Wuh- what is all of this?" Angel asked, leafing through the tall stacks. A few papers slipped and fluttered onto the floor. "Is this all... mine?"
"You always tell me not to sleep on the job," Harmony whined, ignoring his question. "That's, like, totally unfair to the rest of us, you know."
With that, she turned in her pink stilettos and left his office. Outside of his windows, the building was buzzing with activity. Angel took a breath and put a hand to his face, wondering if he'd lost his mind. The papers were all written in gibberish - some sort of demonic language that didn't even remotely resemble any he'd ever seen.
As he dug through the papers, they seemed to grow around him, entrapping him and filling him with such stress that his head started to throb. He had to stop, his entire being suddenly filled with tension, his heart pounding away, louder and louder until he wished he had a hole to fall into.
When Spike strolled into the room, Angel found himself wishing for a gun instead.
"Get out," Angel said, but the words had no effect.
"Angel?" Spike moved slowly towards his desk, but Angel could only partially see him through all of the papers. "Can hear your heart for miles, pet. Now that you're a real boy."
"No. No one knows about that," Angel denied.
"Everyone knows," Spike shook his head, creeping closer. "You got your reward. You've always been a hard worker."
"It's not exactly how I pictured it," Angel muttered under his breath. He was now aware that he was still bleeding through his shirt, but couldn't remember how he got the wound.
"Course not," Spike planted his hands at the edge of the desk. "You've always been a first come, first killed kind of demon. But now you're a man. You can never have what you really want, because you don't even know what it is."
"And you do?" Angel scoffed quietly, realizing that Spike probably did. If there was anything Spike was good at, it was being able to read others.
"You want this." Spike started shoving papers off of the desk, the white sheets flying up into the air and spilling across the floor. As he cleared room, he put a knee up onto the desk, then the other. Angel wanted to protest, but then Spike gave a mighty shove, toppling entire stacks off of one side of the desk. Another mighty shove cleared the other side of the desk, and Angel felt nothing but relief.
The vampire crawled across the desk until he was directly in front of his sire. Angel's heart raced at the proximity of such an unnatural and dangerous creature. In the next second, Spike was slipping down into his lap, arms going around Angel's shoulders. His mouth went against Angel's neck, sucking and biting at the hot pulse just under the flesh.
"Oh God," Angel groaned, stretching his neck for more. The feeling of Spike's mouth and body pressing against him was the most sensuous experience in the world at the moment. It made him wonder exactly how long he'd gone without sex, and the answer had to be too long.
As he leaned back in his chair, Spike's mouth slipped lower, sucking hard at the front of his throat and collar bones. Angel felt him slipping down his body, leaving his lap to settle on the floor instead. When he looked again, Spike was on the floor, pushing Angel's knees apart.
He wanted to object, to remind himself how wrong this was, but then Spike's hands were kneading his thighs, his mouth seeking Angel's dick through his pants, and all reason was lost. His hands felt like lead when he lifted them to free himself. A tense second later, Spike's hands wrapped around his cock and started to stroke him.
Angel relaxed in his chair again, feeling his tensions build up and wash away again like waves, lessening each time. Spike said something to him, the words meaningless but accompanied by a purr that reverberated through Angel's body and lingered in his loins. Then he felt Spike's tongue licking across the head of his dick, and everything slipped away. Spike's tongue swirled around the tip, then swept down to lick the underside of his dick. The actions continued, almost torturous with pleasure until Spike finally took him into his mouth and swallowed him down. Angel's hips moved involuntarily, overcome by the feeling of being completely engulfed in the slick, cool mouth. Spike slid over him, tongue still fluttering around his shaft. After a while of blissful agony, Spike started a powerful sucking, increasing his efforts. When the blonde dug this nails into Angel's hips, he suddenly came, filling the vampire's mouth
When the pleasure started to subside, Angel felt as if he had lost something, a little bit more than what Spike had just swallowed. Maybe some piece of his sanity.
The vampire lifted his head, licking his lips in a way that shouldn't have been nearly as arousing as it was. Spike rose up over him again, hands sliding up from his hips to his waist. The vampire's mouth went to his stomach wound and started to lick at the wound until it started to throb and bleed more into his shirt. Spike finally moved up to his chest and started to stroke him repeatedly. Angel almost wanted to shove him away, but he felt as if he couldn't move.
"You want this, pet," Spike growled, nipping at the tender skin underneath Angel's chin. "I can taste it in you."
"This is what pleases you." The voice startled Angel at first, and he found Illyria lurking a few feet away from them, wearing a quizzical expression. "Moving your bodies together to create fluids."
"It's pleasure, love," Spike told her. "Like this," he added, licking a stripe across Angel's throat that made him groan.
Illyria's mouth feel open slightly in understanding. "Stimulating nerve endings."
"That's right," Spike nodded, his mouth close to Angel's ear. "Stimulation. Even the dead need to feel alive." Angel heard Spike's face shift an instant before the fangs pierced his throat. The pain made him rise up in surprise, but Spike clamped his limbs around him so he could not get away. Angel felt his blood being drained out of him, the feeling in his body washing away with it, and he realized that he had been dead for a while before this.
Angel woke up, sucking in a lungful of air. He sat up for a long moment before realizing he'd just come out of a dream.
"Are you alright?" Wesley questioned. "You sounded as if you were in pain, and it looks as if you've bled through your dressings."
Angel looked down at his stomach, realizing that he actually had bled through the bandages. Despite this, he couldn't feel anything at all, except for a tingling throughout his body.
"I'm fine. It was just a nightmare," Angel said pointedly.
Wesley simply said, "My apologies," and left the room yet again.
Angel ran his hands through his hair several times, trying to ignore how enjoyable the dream had been. It was sad that it had made him feel more than what his current life did. He'd been living like a dead man for so long, that Angel realized he didn't even know how to live.
Ironically enough, the Power That Be, or Senior Partners, or whatever cruel fates that played with his destiny had decided to make him human after he'd decided that he didn't want it anymore. That had to be the final joke on him - to grant his greatest wish when it was completely useless to him and he would have to spend every moment pretending it never happened.
The last thing he wanted was to be a slave to the whims of some force above his own. As far as he'd come, there was no way he could turn back now, and Wesley was right about one thing. In his current state, he was running a high risk of being killed. He needed something to fight for, something to feel for himself. Even Illyria felt something, as far as he could tell from her very enthusiastic fight with his dragon. A good fight was the only thing that got any sort of feeling out of him these days. Angel made a mental note to return the next day with his dragon, so the god could duke it out again with something of her own strength. It would probably distract her long enough to let him fight with Spike. The vampire was always ready to be beaten into a bloody pulp, and if he hit back hard enough, it might be enough to make Angel feel alive for a while.