30 Days ~ Day 3
Memories entry...
Title: 30 Days
Authors: writtenbyfates (femailofthespecies and claudia6913)
Pairing: Angel/Spike
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Modeled after the FX original series 30 Days. Spike gets to spend 30 days with a soul and living with Angel. Will this give him the perspective he needs to understand Angel?
Disclaimer: We neither own Angel, Spike, nor the show 30 Days. That all belongs to their respective owners and we are merely borrowing to play.
Previous Days
~~~~~
Day 3
Sleep was hard to come by the previous night. It is unnatural for him to be in bed that many hours before dawn and his stupid soul insisting that he mull over everything he's ever done to anyone gives him a clear case of insomnia. Spike is irritable when he hears Angel get up. The lights turn on and Spike squeezes his eyes shut against the brightness.
“Bloody hell,” he moans, rolling onto his stomach. He is sore from Angel’s beating, but nothing he can’t handle, and he only wishes it had been more. He thinks about what he almost did to the cheerleader … and hates himself for it. Self-flagellation has never been his thing or he would have flogged himself silly by now, but he wishes that he had never said those things to Cordelia so that she felt the need to prove herself, put her goods on offer.
“Morning, Spike,” Angel says, sounding gruff as if he has not had much sleep himself. Spike smiles into the pillow. As long as Angel is no better off than he, the day's off to a good start.
Standing up from the couch, Spike makes his way to the kitchen, still nude, and rummages in the refrigerator for the swill Angel calls blood. He is past hungry and Angel is still a selfish prat.
“You could put some clothes on,” Angel comments. He isn’t so much worried about other people coming down, because in reality, not many people actively seek him out in his apartment, more he is worried about his own reactions to Spike’s disrobed state. Already he can feel himself stirring, the pale skin awakening things low, making them pay attention.
“Could,” Spike says simply, popping the blood in the microwave and staring at the numbers. He doesn’t know how long to put it on for, but settles for 5 minutes and waits. “But I won’t.”
He leans against the counter, crossing his arms and stares at Angel for a moment until his sire looks away. The older vampire is annoyed but not willing to make a fuss over this. If Spike wants his ass all over national television, then so be it.
Right now, Angel is just happy that Spike seems to have forgotten all about feeding from him and he won’t be the one to bring it up.
“Are you going to help upstairs?” Angel inquires. He his hoping for an easier day with Spike. So far the emotional rollercoaster seems over.
“Like this?” he asks, indicating his nakedness, grinning.
“Hmmm, maybe. Up to you. I’m sure your blinding paleness won’t be too bad a glare on television sets across America.”
“I would think there’d be a huge jump in the ratings, mate.”
“Or mass hysteria,” Angel retorts.
There is an odd popping noise coming from the microwave only moments before there is an even larger boom, followed by smoke billowing out of the edges of the small door on the front.
“What the -?” Spike asks, jumping away from the noise, shocked into silence by the fire that starts billowing from the appliance.
Immediately, Angel reaches below the sink, thankful that he had thought to get a fire extinguisher; although a little put off that he doesn’t actually know how to use it. He looks frantically at the instructions.
“Where’s the damn pin?” he cries out. Finally, he finds it, pulls the ring, and looks back the instructions. By the time he figures out how to use the thing, Spike is pouring water all over the microwave using one of Angel’s fruit bowls that always lacked actual fruit.
“What the bloody hell happened?” the blond asks, waving the smoke away from his face.
Angel glares at him in disbelief. “You made the blood explode and blew up my microwave. Don’t you know how to heat blood?!”
Sitting the bowl down calmly, his jaw working hard, he favors his sire with a smile. “Well seeing as how I’ve been getting the stuff to-go until the other day, I’d have to say ... NO, I BLOODY WELL DON’T!”
A spark comes from the appliance and Angel reaches over quickly, unplugging it.
“I’m hungry,” his Spike announces as he realizes that he meal is ruined.
“Lick the fucking thing for all I care.”
Spike chuckles and then turns petulant. “No, I don’t think I will. You promised me blood and I want it now.”
Staring at him blankly, Angel blinks. “After what you just did? You owe me a microwave, Spike. You're not getting anything from me until you get me another one.”
“But I’ve got no dosh. Stole everythin’ I’ve had, haven’t I?” Spike whines.
“Work for me,” Angel says, finally angling a way to get Spike to help out. He already has two paid hands, both of which he can barely afford, but they are humans. Even Gunn with all his experience and determination is only able to do so much. An extra vampire around can't hurt, Angel just hopes Spike will do it without too much bitching. He only has so much patience after all.
Spike laughs, and then realizes Angel is serious. “You’re bloody mad!”
“Yes, I’m angry. You destroyed my microwave.”
“Not angry - insane, Pouf. Learn proper English.”
Angel rolls his eyes. “Clean this up, get dressed, and then come upstairs.”
Frowning, Spike glares from microwave to asshole sire and back. “You are out of you tree. I’m no maid. Get the bint down here to do it.” And remembering her last words to him he adds. “And feed me, you stingy git, or I’ll tell her how you beat me more after she left and still haven’t opened a vein for a starving childe.”
“You are not starving, Spike.”
“So says the well-fed, pot-bellied wanker.”
Angel touches his stomach. “I don’t have a …”
“Feed me!”
“No!”
“CORDELIA!”
Sighing, Angel walks towards the stairs. “She’s not here.” He leaves Spike, his mouth hanging open, a small smile on his face.
*********
It takes Spike nearly an hour to get upstairs, during which time Angel is finally able to relax. His sleep had been disturbed by Spike and everything feels off kilter. He forgot just how much Spike’s presence could interrupt normal, everyday life. It was like that when he was soulless and now Spike, complete with soul, is a freak of the supernatural, making Angel’s life a living hell.
Refusing to let thoughts of the other vampire consume him, Angel sighs and picks up another manila folder, this one about a Laxicus demon inhabiting a sewer system in a suburban neighborhood. One of the local demons that lives in the area, a Santhros demon who can usually pass for human except for his eyes and webbed feet, had tipped them off because the Laxicus have a high affinity for the taste of Santhros babies, and vampires. He is also willing to pay, something which has Cordelia bouncy and jiggling those special parts for nearly two minutes after the phone call. She's a nice distraction and Angelus has no problem appreciating her physical attributes, but Angel is reminded of her behavior toward Spike, which he finds troubling.
He is still unsure of how it came to be that Spike … his annoying, obnoxious, rude hell-spawn, has been able to get to her. Something is wrong with Cordelia, that must be it. She hates Spike, has a healthy fear of him and in general doesn't see any good on vampires - present company excepted. So this sudden flip of feelings must be an indication of a spell or possession or ...
The blond saunters by, halting Angel’s thoughts and leans over Cordelia’s desk.
“Peaches has you slaving too?”
She looks up and smiles. “He calls it employment, but I think he stuck on 1700 wages.”
“Well, he is a miserly sort of fellow. Always keeping things for himself when he should share.”
“Spike, glad to see you finally decided to join us.”
The blond turns slowly in order to give him a full glare. “Decided … like this was a choice?”
Cordelia wants to ask what happened last night, but waits. She’s sure that Spike will tell her if Angel didn’t keep his promise. Oddly, she trusts the vampire to fink on her boss at every opportunity.
“Just who forced you to get that soul, boy?” Angel asks, crossing his arms. It seems his point has been made and Spike falls onto the couch and lights up. Going back to his work, Angel concentrates on the job at hand.
“Has Eddie called yet?” Angel asks, looking at the name of their informant. He wants to know exactly where these Laxicus demons are before he goes raging in with a sword.
“You’ve been here longer than me. Did you hear the phone ring?” Cordy says.
“Only thing he ever hears is damsel’s in distress,” Spike quips.
Cordelia is back to work and Spike is reading a magazine. The silence is too good to be true and he knows something will happened to spoil it soon which has him on edge. The older demon sighs ... this is exactly what Spike wants. He frowns then because he really doesn't know what Spike wants or doesn’t want. He’s changed so much since the last time Angel has seen him that he does not feel like he knows him as well as he once did.
He shakes his head and leans back, watching Spike's profile through his open office door as he re-evaluated the situation. Spike’s changes are only the result of a soul temporarily crammed into his small, but amazingly well-muscled frame. He blinks, wondering why that popped into his head and how to keep it from happening again.
“Know anything about Laxicus demons?” He calls to Spike. Work. Work is good.
Spike slumps further into the sofa, putting his feet up on the coffee table as Cordelia waves at the offending smoke drifting towards her.
“Might.”
“Spike, I know that you have this advantage, being dead and all, but some of us actually use our lungs,” she tells him, fully expecting cooperation.
He turns to Angel. “Is she always this bossy?”
“More than, usually,” he crosses is arms, waiting for his seer to rip into him.
Spike thinks about it for a moment, and then crushes the cigarette into the floor with his boot.
Rolling his eyes, Angel tries again. “Laxicus, Spike?”
“What of them?” He neither confirms nor denies knowing what they are and can hear his sire rising from his fat arse and stomping toward him. Smiling as Angel arrives, Spike says nothing.
“Are you going to be difficult for the rest of your time here?” Angel asks, although he’s sure he already knows the answer to that.
“And what if I am? ‘S no picnic for me either, being with this bloody soul, feelin’ all these things … it’s not right.”
“Then you shouldn’t have signed up for it.” Angel has no sympathy for the idiot.
“Angel, stop it! You both are making this difficult. Just grow up and act like adults!” Cordy has firmly decided she will not put up with their bickering.
Spike sighs. “Yes, I know what they are, Pouf. Why do you ask, oh parsimonious one?”
Angel grits his teeth, while Cordelia gets out a dictionary.
“I’m going to kill some later. Any ideas on how to do it without getting hurt … drenched in nostril fluid?”
“Yeah, the heart is under the second left arm. Cutting off the head, blinds it, but it can still live since the brain’s located in the middle of its chest protected by some hard, skeletal casing. Need a bloody chainsaw to get through it.”
It’s some very detailed stuff and Angel narrows his eyes. “And just how do you know all this?”
Spike perks up. “Oh, me and Dru were in Greece …”
“Nevermind. ” Angel throws his hands in the air, walking away. A story involving Drusilla is not something Cordelia should have to endure.
“Fine then, if you didn’t want to know then you shouldn’t have asked,” Spike says, a pout forming quickly.
“Spike, your escapades have little to nothing to do with what we’re trying to do, which is save lives.”
“And make money!” Cordy chimes in.
“Right, whatever,” Spike rolls his eyes at them, secure with the knowledge that they didn’t know a thing about what they were doing. “So, when we doin’ this?”
“We?” Angel asks.
“Well, yeah, can’t expect me to stay ‘ere all the bloody time, do you?”
“You wanna help?” Angel can’t keep the astonishment from his voice.
Spike nods
“Help me?”
Spike’s eyes narrow.
“Kill demons?”
Spike tosses another glare at him and Angel thinks that he’ll have to start naming them. This one says you are an incredible git.
“You incredibly thick git.”
Angel smiles.
“Of course I don’t want to help you, pillock. This soddin’ soul is like being possessed. I can’t bloody well control myself.”
Angel is still smiling.
“And I hate you.”
“Of course.”
“Good, just so we’re clear.”
“Right, so when you two are done hissing and posturing, here’s the address. Gunn's gonna meet you,” Cordelia tells them, handing Angel a piece of paper with her scribbling on it. Angel turns in it several directions before sussing out the correct way. Grabbing her purse, she smiles. “See ya!”
“Wait, where you goin’, luv?” Spike asks. He had expected her to join them.
“Calgon is so calling my name,” Cordy says. “You boys fight, I look pretty. It’s how it works.” She gives a little finger wave and is out the door.
“She’s an odd one, that,” Spike says.
“Like you’re one to talk,” Angel mutters under his breath. An indignant huff of air is the only indication that Spike heard him. “Come on, let’s get over there before these things get hungry.”
*********
Those things were very hungry.
Angel is bleeding slowly from a gash in his side where one tried to munch on him as he climbs up through the sewer access and into his apartment. He stoops to his knees and leans over the hole while Spike hefts his burden into the older demon’s arms.
It’s an unconscious, or perhaps dead, Jeffrey.
True professional that Tom is, he zooms in on his comrade with the camera, capturing the slack-jawed look.
Spike leaps up easily and closes the grate, apparently unscathed.
“What happened to him?” Tom asks, using the speed dial on his cell phone to call the producer. Calling 911, has not entered his mind yet.
“Bugger didn’t know when to stay out of the way,” Spike says, growling. He’d tried to protect the human, much to his demon's shame, but by the time he had turned to yell at the cameraman to move, it’d been too late.
“We need to get him to a hospital,” Angel says, seeing the cell phone in the other cameraman’s hands.
“Oh, right,” Tom says, hanging up and dialing 911. He feels stupid for not thinking of it first. Looking around, he remembers their location and feeds it to the operator, then hangs up and redials the producer to let him know they were going to need another camera guy.
Sirens ring out in the distance, and Spike slowly moves back. “’M gonna head back, write a report, or somethin’.”
Angel grabs his arm. “You go in my room and stay there until the paramedics leave.” He does not trust Spike not to do something stupid, like tell the truth.
Being evil has a way of making you exceptionally honest. You really have nothing to hide from or fear.
His childe is clearly not having any of it. He settles on the chair instead, intent on a front row seat to everything that happens. “I don’t think it works that way, Peaches.”
“No Spike,” he snatches him up and drags him by his shirt and hair into his bedroom. “You just don’t think.” The wall hits him hard, rude, Spike thinks as he gets to his feet.
“Well, then help me out, Sire. Tell me what I should be feeling.”
Angel freezes, catching on to what Spike is doing. “I’m not going to beat you, Spike.”
The blond scoffs. “And you apparently aren’t keeping your promises, you bloody welcher.”
As usual, Angel is left with a sense of guilt and oddly confused.
There are loud voices and stomping feet coming down, and Angel doesn’t have the time to argue. “Stay here,” he says firmly. Turning, Angel watches the paramedics come rushing in.
“How long has he been bleeding out like this?” one of the paramedics ask, taking out a stethoscope while the other puts on a blood pressure wrap around Jimmy’s arm.
“About fifteen minutes,” Angel says, no nonsense.
“What caused the bleeding?”
“I’m not sure.”
One of the paramedics, the one not asking questions, gasps and curses as he rips away cloth to expose the wound.
“We need to get him to the ER, now.” They fall silent, working efficiently and have him on a stretcher, stabilized, and ready to transport within 90 seconds. Angel is impressed with the advances in medicine. Fifty years ago, the man’s wound would have been mortal.
The whirlwind of activity leaves with the EMTs and Tom is on the phone, arguing for more pay. Angel shakes his head and goes to see about the annoying vampire in his room.
A crying Spike, sprawled out over his sheets, pale and vulnerable against the black fabric is not what he expected to find.
“I should have been faster, protected him better,” he sobs. “What if he’s got little bitty rugrats?”
Angel raises an eyebrow.
Sniffing, Spike wipes at his eyes. “He shouldn’t have come, should’ve told him to stay.”
“For once, Spike, it’s not your fault,” Angel says, grabbing a nearby chair and sitting down.
“Was closest to him, wasn’t I? Knew where it was goin’, but I couldn’t make it.” Fresh tears fall and he looks away from Angel. “Used to not care. I can remember not carin’.”
“You always cared, just not about the right things,” Angel says, remembering Spike’s old quirks. That caring had been what made Angelus want to break him, tear him apart, and build him back up, ruthless. It hadn’t worked, and for a moment, Angel is thankful for that.
“Sod off,” he mumbles into the sheets, taking in a deep breath of Angel. He flips over quickly, still upset, but trying to get past it. Acting like this, especially in front of his sire is humiliating to the extreme.
“Will you be alright?” Angel asks as he removes his shirt. The drying blood sticks to the fabric to his skin and he winces.
Spike experiences a wave of concern instantly followed by nausea. Still his mouth functions on its own. “Yeah, what about you? That looks nasty.” He reaches out runs his fingers lightly over the gash, and glances up at the brunette as he brings the blood to his lips. His blue eyes darken, becoming stormy and almost grey.
“Spike …” Angel whispers. Bad things happen when Spike gets that look, or good things depending on perspective.
“Can help you heal, you know.”
Heal what? he wants to ask, but doesn’t. A sharp pain races through his side and he winces. Spike clucks his tongue and shakes his head.
“’S not gonna hurt,” Spike says, still staring him in the eyes.
“Feels like it does.” Somehow, his breathing reflex had kicked in, making his skin pull with each breath.
“Quit bein’ a nancy and let me soddin’ look at it,” Spike says, his voice softer. He pulls Angel from the chair, pushes him down onto the bed, and kneels before him, examining the wound to his side. It’s a fairly deep gash and it is still bleeding. Carefully, Spike pulls at the shreds of Angel’s shirt, trying to see how far it goes. He hears Angel inhale sharply and mutters an apology, but doesn’t stop his examination.
Angel tries to sit still as cool nimble fingers, press and prod at his injury. It’s hard to do when his dick is reacting to it so … inappropriately, but he endures the touches with as much dignity as he can muster. Spike is being gentler than the older vampire expects and he suspects this is also a factor contributing to his body’s unseemly responses.
However, Spike appears to take no notice. “’S pretty deep.” Blue eyes regard him seriously. “You’ve a thing for being skewered then?”
They both grin and he goes about cleaning away the blood and wrapping Angel’s abdomen tightly with the gauze from the medical supplies. When satisfied with his work, he licks the drying blood from the pad of his thumb and gazes at Angel thoughtfully.
“I’m over a century in years now. Kept Dru going until we could get to you.” The invitation is there. All Angel has to do is accept.
It’s a temptation, dark and liquid, like Spike. There’s more than just blood being offered, Angel knows. There’s really no threat of him not healing - with time and plenty of blood, but the addition of Spike’s blood, family blood, would certainly speed up the process.
Almost as if Spike can read Angel’s mind, the blond says, “Keep you from bein’ down too long, unable to help an’ such.”
It is a good point, one Angel eventually would have thought of once the swelling in his dick went down. Finally, Angel relents with a short, barely visible nod of his head.
Lazily Spike shifts around until he is between Angel's legs, facing him, strong hands on powerful thighs, his neck gracifully exposed. This causes Angel’s prick to give an almighty jump. He makes and odd sound, and notices Spike watching him in silence.
Tom knows this will be good and stays completely still. He wants to zoom in, but the camera will make a sound if he does. His boss will kill him if he misses this shot due to being thrown out of the room.
Spike swallows, waiting. It’s been years since he’s had Angelus’ fangs in him and he is slightly unnerved by what he has willingly submitted to doing.
A large hand slips around the back of his neck, pulling him closer and Spike closes his eyes with a groan, jaw tight. Angel watches, his eyes darkened and flickering, his mouth half open, taking in his childe's scent and tasting it in the air, wild and lustful, yet tainted with the sadness that comes with the soul. The combination, so unexpected and familiar at once, makes his bones shift and fangs descend.
“Jesus, Spike,” he whispers as he bends over some to nuzzle into the soft white flesh, where he’ll strike. “Too long.”
Before Spike can say anything to screw up this moment, Angel’s fangs slide slowly into his flesh, his blood wells quickly to the surface, and the both moan with the first swallow.
Spike’s blood is stronger than Angel remembers. Already, Angel can feel the power pulsing through him. His hand tightens on the back of Spike’s head as his other arm reaches around, pulling Spike closer.
The scent of lust is heavy, spicing the air, wafting from the two of them and even Tom has to reach down and adjust himself though he doesn't really know why.
Having taken as much as he dares, Angel stops, nuzzling and licking the twin holes.
Spike shudders as Angel’s tongue slips over his skin, wet and cool, his cock throbbing in time with the soft caresses. His sire pulls back, staring at him, looking sheepish, but wearing a tiny smile.
“Feeling better?” the blond asks, his voice too deep.
Angel nods, watching Spike’s tongue slip between his lips to lick them. “Much.” He leans back in, and traces the small trail that has formed with his mouth, kissing and tasting the flesh as he moves along Spike’s jaw, not stopping until he reaches luscious full lips.
He prods Spike’s mouth until he opens up to him with a sigh. Pushing his tongue inside, in a parody of what he really wants to do to the vampire, Angel devours him, and Spike's burning, his head pounding with heat, and he’ll be nothing but dust when Angel is done, but does not move to stop him. Instead, he crushes closer and massages Angel through his pants as he spreads his legs wide.
It’s wrong, and right, and different, and Angel can already feel himself relenting to Spike’s touches and kisses. No matter that Angel had been the one to initiate this closeness with the acceptance of the younger’s blood, or the devouring of his mouth. A darker part of him insists that this is the way it is supposed to be, Spike on his knees, capitulating and bowing to his every need.
“Spike,” Angel starts, wanting to tell the blond to stop, wanting to crawl inside him, but he doesn’t say more as those nimble fingers begin to undo the button of his pants.
“Just let me, yeah?” Spike asks softly, looking up from what he is doing. He leans in and captures Angel’s mouth again, his hand snaking into the pants, squeezing the cock he finds there. His thumb swirls around the tip, gathering pre-cum. Pulling away, Spike makes a show of licking the pad of his thumb, smiling around it as he sucks it into his mouth.
“Fuck,” Angel groans and thrust his hips. He's lost this battle and is quickly resigned to the fact that he is lost his mind as well because screw Spike is really sounding like a good idea.
Unmindful of his still healing injury, Angel stands, letting his pants fall to the floor. Spike helps him remove his shoes. Before he can even sit down again, the quick little shit has his dick in his mouth.
He slurps on Angel’s cock, a small chuckle escaping his filled mouth as his the brunette bucks and groans. He closes around the hard shaft, sucking intently, swallowing him whole.
“Oh God,” Angel cries as his hands clutch at Spike, squeezing into his hair until he settles down. Spike doesn’t stop or slow and takes great pleasure in the harsh panting he hears above his head. With a pop he pulls off, his tongue swirling around the tip, spreading the stickiness.
He looks up at Angel who is still thrusting slowly, lost in feeling for a few seconds before glancing down with hooded eyes. “Spike …” It seems to be the only word he knows for sure.
“Take me, Sire,” he says, his blue eyes full of emotion and need.
Angel almost cums then, which would really piss him off because he wants to be buried inside that exquisite tightness when he does. He also plans to hear some begging. Angelus is very much around for this.
Pulling Spike up by the shoulders, Angel kisses him hard, his tongue delving and tasting, before he turns them both and pushes Spike to the bed. He puts the boy’s hands on the back the headboard and kneels behind him.
Suddenly, Angel has second thoughts.
“Are you sure?” Angel asks, his hands unconsciously kneading the jean-clad globes before him, a rouge finger trailing along the crease. He feels a shake run through the blond and smells tears before they actually fall to the couch.
“Don’t tease, Angelus,” Spike says, pulling away and kneeling up on the bed, ready to leave. “Can’t take that shite anymore.”
He pulls Spike flush to him, grinding into his ass, mouthing the back of his neck while he speaks. “No games. I wanna drive into you, hear you scream for me again, Spike. I wanna feel you shaking around me, clamping so tight I can’t move.”
Taking a nail, he scratches Spike on his shoulder and thrusts his hips into Spike again. “You should only bleed for me,” he says, licking away the tiny line. It heals quickly, and he has the overwhelming urge to mar the perfect skin. “No games, Spike.”
He knows it’s the soul, making him give in to the things he’s wanted for so long, denied himself forever its seems. In reality, it’s only been since he found the other vampire on the Hellmouth, but being without Him for a few years when he is so near, tangible, yet unattainable, feels like forever.
Hands slip to his waist and work the buttons on his jeans and he’s more than happy to submit to the older demon, just for now of course. Later he plans to give Angel a good winding up.
Angel inhales sharply as the zipper slides down on Spike’s pants. Pale flesh and a light dusting of brown hair is visible, leading straight to Spike’s cock, inviting Angel. Impatient, Angel pushes roughly at Spike’s pants and they fall to his knees, the blond kicking out of them easily.
“Perfect,” Angel growls softly. He hears an answering rumble in Spike’s chest. He wants to bend him over now, push into that forever-virgin hole, make Spike bleed and cry out his name like he has done a hundred times before, but he stops himself. That's not them right now.
Spinning the blond to face him, Angel attacks his mouth again, finally willing to give life to the urges that have taunted him since Spike showed up in Sunnydale. That mouth, with its soft lips and cruel tongue has always been a distraction and Angel is more than ready to go off on this tangent.
Angel presses forward, forcing Spike to lie back on the cotton comforter atop the bed. He does and brings his legs up to encircle Angel’s waist, groaning as he feels the muscles in his sire's back shifting, clutching him closer with his strong limbs. Grinding into him, Angel watches Spike as he archs and thrusts up, matching Angel’s passion.
His neck, pale and perfect, is exposed and the demon rears up before Angel can regain control, slicing into that skin, delighting when Spike cries out and bucks beneath him.
“Fuck, Angelus," he manages to choke out despite the lips around his throat making speech difficult.
A low, laugh comes from Angel, darker and deeper than he likes. Briefly, he has a moment of near panic, fearful that letting Angelus this close to the surface would be his downfall, but Spike rotates his hips, pressing into Angel’s already throbbing cock, chasing away any thoughts.
Hooking one of the blond’s pale legs around his arm, Angel guides his shaft to that nearly impenetrable opening, letting the weeping tip press lightly against it.
“Don’t bloody stop now,” Spike groans, thrusting his hips as much as possible, feeling the slick slide of skin on sensitive skin.
“You’re mine, William, always have been,” Angel says, voice thick with lust.
“Yeah,” comes a breathy whisper from the bed.
Slowly, tortuously, Angel pushes in, feeling the head of his dick constricted by the tight ring before it sucks him in. With a hard thrust and cries from both of them, he is fully sheathed, both panting hard.
Spike face is screwed up in pain and pleasure. The mixture is as all-consuming now as it had been a century ago. The scent of Sire surrounds him, permeating everything until he knows nothing else, and when the vampire begins to move inside him, the blond grips the headboard, his powerful hands crushing it where his fingers dig in.
Angel hears his furniture giving away and bends lower, his mouth brushing Spike’s ear. “Hands over your head, Spike, and keep them there. Understand?” His childe trembles, Angel’s voice sending hot electric tendrils straight to the other vampires cock, and he whimpers as his belly sinks. But he obeys, so far gone into his demon that the human in him is nowhere to be found and his need to belong to his creator overrides the pride that normally drives him.
Yet he has not answered Angel and his Sire pulls out of the choking hole nearly all the way before slamming back inside, tearing a shocked yelp from Spike.
“Do you understand?” he asks again, staring lustfully at the blond locks as Spike’s head lolls from side to side.
“Yes, bloody hell, yes,” Spike cries out. Each loud smack of their skin vibrates through his body. His eyes roll back in his head as his sire, knowing just where to pump, just how fast and hard to make the fucking, sends him spiraling higher.
It is perfect, and right, and it’s been so long since Spike has felt any kind of connection with Angel, that he has to squeeze his eyes shut to block out the unwanted emotions builing in him.
“Angelus,” he pants, nearly moving his hands, wanting to grab the other vampire, pull him down, pour out everything he feels running through him into a long, fervent kiss.
Angel feels Spike’s desire for him as his body tries to keep him inside with every thrust. He hears the need in the sharp gasps and long exultant sighs that break through drying lips. He tastes his passion as it fills the air, making it thick and welcoming. He sees his heart in a single tear. He knows him through his submission.
His own name whispered softly has Angel's belly dropping hard into his balls and they tighten, ready for what is inevitable. Quickly, he grabs Spike’s shaft, pumping it wildly as the blond shouts his orgasm, screams his name. And Angel is faltering while his own release comes in jagged-edged spurts, cutting him with keen intensity, and he makes a few last erratic strokes into the place where he never wants to leave.
For a second he wonders what he’s done, because he is so damned happy at the moment he fears for his soul, but that alone is enough to secure it and he relaxes, caressing Spike’s sides and hips as they both come down.
Spike is cursing softly through his hard, ragged breathing. He feels torn apart and put back together. While soulless, he had been able to revel in this feeling and did not give it much thought. But now, he feels used and wanted and tired and confused.
With much care, Angel pulls Spike to his side, spooning against him, afraid of the tears that may come and wanting to make them stop before they start. He grabs the covers and pulls them so that they are covering at least Spike.
“Spike,” Angel says softly, unsure of what to do or what to say.
Immediately, Spike stills, his blue eyes wide, and turns to the voice.
“Sire,” Spike says before turning away, shutting his eyes.
There's a tightening in Angel's chest. That one word, sire, is the totality if all he is supposed to be to the younger vampire. To hear it spoken without disdain or mockery is a new thing, making him feel …Angel stops short and rolls his eyes. Soon he'll be spouting sonnets about the beauty of Spike’s eyes, which is totally not going to happen. Shaking himself free of the spell sex with Spike has him under, he leaves the bedroom and does a check of all the locks before turning out the lights and slipping back between the crumpled sheets and behind his boy. Today has ended a lot better than it started and he is hopeful about tomorrow.
Feeling Angel’s hard chest pressing against his back, Spike leans into him, sighing. His eyes are closed but he sees everything in his mind. When, despite himself, Angel presses a kiss to the back of his neck, Spike trembles inside with something he does not like to name and smiles into the pillow.
But “Amazing Pouf” is all he says before falling into a deep sleep.
~~~~~~~~
Title: 30 Days
Authors: writtenbyfates (femailofthespecies and claudia6913)
Pairing: Angel/Spike
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Modeled after the FX original series 30 Days. Spike gets to spend 30 days with a soul and living with Angel. Will this give him the perspective he needs to understand Angel?
Disclaimer: We neither own Angel, Spike, nor the show 30 Days. That all belongs to their respective owners and we are merely borrowing to play.
Previous Days
~~~~~
Day 3
Sleep was hard to come by the previous night. It is unnatural for him to be in bed that many hours before dawn and his stupid soul insisting that he mull over everything he's ever done to anyone gives him a clear case of insomnia. Spike is irritable when he hears Angel get up. The lights turn on and Spike squeezes his eyes shut against the brightness.
“Bloody hell,” he moans, rolling onto his stomach. He is sore from Angel’s beating, but nothing he can’t handle, and he only wishes it had been more. He thinks about what he almost did to the cheerleader … and hates himself for it. Self-flagellation has never been his thing or he would have flogged himself silly by now, but he wishes that he had never said those things to Cordelia so that she felt the need to prove herself, put her goods on offer.
“Morning, Spike,” Angel says, sounding gruff as if he has not had much sleep himself. Spike smiles into the pillow. As long as Angel is no better off than he, the day's off to a good start.
Standing up from the couch, Spike makes his way to the kitchen, still nude, and rummages in the refrigerator for the swill Angel calls blood. He is past hungry and Angel is still a selfish prat.
“You could put some clothes on,” Angel comments. He isn’t so much worried about other people coming down, because in reality, not many people actively seek him out in his apartment, more he is worried about his own reactions to Spike’s disrobed state. Already he can feel himself stirring, the pale skin awakening things low, making them pay attention.
“Could,” Spike says simply, popping the blood in the microwave and staring at the numbers. He doesn’t know how long to put it on for, but settles for 5 minutes and waits. “But I won’t.”
He leans against the counter, crossing his arms and stares at Angel for a moment until his sire looks away. The older vampire is annoyed but not willing to make a fuss over this. If Spike wants his ass all over national television, then so be it.
Right now, Angel is just happy that Spike seems to have forgotten all about feeding from him and he won’t be the one to bring it up.
“Are you going to help upstairs?” Angel inquires. He his hoping for an easier day with Spike. So far the emotional rollercoaster seems over.
“Like this?” he asks, indicating his nakedness, grinning.
“Hmmm, maybe. Up to you. I’m sure your blinding paleness won’t be too bad a glare on television sets across America.”
“I would think there’d be a huge jump in the ratings, mate.”
“Or mass hysteria,” Angel retorts.
There is an odd popping noise coming from the microwave only moments before there is an even larger boom, followed by smoke billowing out of the edges of the small door on the front.
“What the -?” Spike asks, jumping away from the noise, shocked into silence by the fire that starts billowing from the appliance.
Immediately, Angel reaches below the sink, thankful that he had thought to get a fire extinguisher; although a little put off that he doesn’t actually know how to use it. He looks frantically at the instructions.
“Where’s the damn pin?” he cries out. Finally, he finds it, pulls the ring, and looks back the instructions. By the time he figures out how to use the thing, Spike is pouring water all over the microwave using one of Angel’s fruit bowls that always lacked actual fruit.
“What the bloody hell happened?” the blond asks, waving the smoke away from his face.
Angel glares at him in disbelief. “You made the blood explode and blew up my microwave. Don’t you know how to heat blood?!”
Sitting the bowl down calmly, his jaw working hard, he favors his sire with a smile. “Well seeing as how I’ve been getting the stuff to-go until the other day, I’d have to say ... NO, I BLOODY WELL DON’T!”
A spark comes from the appliance and Angel reaches over quickly, unplugging it.
“I’m hungry,” his Spike announces as he realizes that he meal is ruined.
“Lick the fucking thing for all I care.”
Spike chuckles and then turns petulant. “No, I don’t think I will. You promised me blood and I want it now.”
Staring at him blankly, Angel blinks. “After what you just did? You owe me a microwave, Spike. You're not getting anything from me until you get me another one.”
“But I’ve got no dosh. Stole everythin’ I’ve had, haven’t I?” Spike whines.
“Work for me,” Angel says, finally angling a way to get Spike to help out. He already has two paid hands, both of which he can barely afford, but they are humans. Even Gunn with all his experience and determination is only able to do so much. An extra vampire around can't hurt, Angel just hopes Spike will do it without too much bitching. He only has so much patience after all.
Spike laughs, and then realizes Angel is serious. “You’re bloody mad!”
“Yes, I’m angry. You destroyed my microwave.”
“Not angry - insane, Pouf. Learn proper English.”
Angel rolls his eyes. “Clean this up, get dressed, and then come upstairs.”
Frowning, Spike glares from microwave to asshole sire and back. “You are out of you tree. I’m no maid. Get the bint down here to do it.” And remembering her last words to him he adds. “And feed me, you stingy git, or I’ll tell her how you beat me more after she left and still haven’t opened a vein for a starving childe.”
“You are not starving, Spike.”
“So says the well-fed, pot-bellied wanker.”
Angel touches his stomach. “I don’t have a …”
“Feed me!”
“No!”
“CORDELIA!”
Sighing, Angel walks towards the stairs. “She’s not here.” He leaves Spike, his mouth hanging open, a small smile on his face.
*********
It takes Spike nearly an hour to get upstairs, during which time Angel is finally able to relax. His sleep had been disturbed by Spike and everything feels off kilter. He forgot just how much Spike’s presence could interrupt normal, everyday life. It was like that when he was soulless and now Spike, complete with soul, is a freak of the supernatural, making Angel’s life a living hell.
Refusing to let thoughts of the other vampire consume him, Angel sighs and picks up another manila folder, this one about a Laxicus demon inhabiting a sewer system in a suburban neighborhood. One of the local demons that lives in the area, a Santhros demon who can usually pass for human except for his eyes and webbed feet, had tipped them off because the Laxicus have a high affinity for the taste of Santhros babies, and vampires. He is also willing to pay, something which has Cordelia bouncy and jiggling those special parts for nearly two minutes after the phone call. She's a nice distraction and Angelus has no problem appreciating her physical attributes, but Angel is reminded of her behavior toward Spike, which he finds troubling.
He is still unsure of how it came to be that Spike … his annoying, obnoxious, rude hell-spawn, has been able to get to her. Something is wrong with Cordelia, that must be it. She hates Spike, has a healthy fear of him and in general doesn't see any good on vampires - present company excepted. So this sudden flip of feelings must be an indication of a spell or possession or ...
The blond saunters by, halting Angel’s thoughts and leans over Cordelia’s desk.
“Peaches has you slaving too?”
She looks up and smiles. “He calls it employment, but I think he stuck on 1700 wages.”
“Well, he is a miserly sort of fellow. Always keeping things for himself when he should share.”
“Spike, glad to see you finally decided to join us.”
The blond turns slowly in order to give him a full glare. “Decided … like this was a choice?”
Cordelia wants to ask what happened last night, but waits. She’s sure that Spike will tell her if Angel didn’t keep his promise. Oddly, she trusts the vampire to fink on her boss at every opportunity.
“Just who forced you to get that soul, boy?” Angel asks, crossing his arms. It seems his point has been made and Spike falls onto the couch and lights up. Going back to his work, Angel concentrates on the job at hand.
“Has Eddie called yet?” Angel asks, looking at the name of their informant. He wants to know exactly where these Laxicus demons are before he goes raging in with a sword.
“You’ve been here longer than me. Did you hear the phone ring?” Cordy says.
“Only thing he ever hears is damsel’s in distress,” Spike quips.
Cordelia is back to work and Spike is reading a magazine. The silence is too good to be true and he knows something will happened to spoil it soon which has him on edge. The older demon sighs ... this is exactly what Spike wants. He frowns then because he really doesn't know what Spike wants or doesn’t want. He’s changed so much since the last time Angel has seen him that he does not feel like he knows him as well as he once did.
He shakes his head and leans back, watching Spike's profile through his open office door as he re-evaluated the situation. Spike’s changes are only the result of a soul temporarily crammed into his small, but amazingly well-muscled frame. He blinks, wondering why that popped into his head and how to keep it from happening again.
“Know anything about Laxicus demons?” He calls to Spike. Work. Work is good.
Spike slumps further into the sofa, putting his feet up on the coffee table as Cordelia waves at the offending smoke drifting towards her.
“Might.”
“Spike, I know that you have this advantage, being dead and all, but some of us actually use our lungs,” she tells him, fully expecting cooperation.
He turns to Angel. “Is she always this bossy?”
“More than, usually,” he crosses is arms, waiting for his seer to rip into him.
Spike thinks about it for a moment, and then crushes the cigarette into the floor with his boot.
Rolling his eyes, Angel tries again. “Laxicus, Spike?”
“What of them?” He neither confirms nor denies knowing what they are and can hear his sire rising from his fat arse and stomping toward him. Smiling as Angel arrives, Spike says nothing.
“Are you going to be difficult for the rest of your time here?” Angel asks, although he’s sure he already knows the answer to that.
“And what if I am? ‘S no picnic for me either, being with this bloody soul, feelin’ all these things … it’s not right.”
“Then you shouldn’t have signed up for it.” Angel has no sympathy for the idiot.
“Angel, stop it! You both are making this difficult. Just grow up and act like adults!” Cordy has firmly decided she will not put up with their bickering.
Spike sighs. “Yes, I know what they are, Pouf. Why do you ask, oh parsimonious one?”
Angel grits his teeth, while Cordelia gets out a dictionary.
“I’m going to kill some later. Any ideas on how to do it without getting hurt … drenched in nostril fluid?”
“Yeah, the heart is under the second left arm. Cutting off the head, blinds it, but it can still live since the brain’s located in the middle of its chest protected by some hard, skeletal casing. Need a bloody chainsaw to get through it.”
It’s some very detailed stuff and Angel narrows his eyes. “And just how do you know all this?”
Spike perks up. “Oh, me and Dru were in Greece …”
“Nevermind. ” Angel throws his hands in the air, walking away. A story involving Drusilla is not something Cordelia should have to endure.
“Fine then, if you didn’t want to know then you shouldn’t have asked,” Spike says, a pout forming quickly.
“Spike, your escapades have little to nothing to do with what we’re trying to do, which is save lives.”
“And make money!” Cordy chimes in.
“Right, whatever,” Spike rolls his eyes at them, secure with the knowledge that they didn’t know a thing about what they were doing. “So, when we doin’ this?”
“We?” Angel asks.
“Well, yeah, can’t expect me to stay ‘ere all the bloody time, do you?”
“You wanna help?” Angel can’t keep the astonishment from his voice.
Spike nods
“Help me?”
Spike’s eyes narrow.
“Kill demons?”
Spike tosses another glare at him and Angel thinks that he’ll have to start naming them. This one says you are an incredible git.
“You incredibly thick git.”
Angel smiles.
“Of course I don’t want to help you, pillock. This soddin’ soul is like being possessed. I can’t bloody well control myself.”
Angel is still smiling.
“And I hate you.”
“Of course.”
“Good, just so we’re clear.”
“Right, so when you two are done hissing and posturing, here’s the address. Gunn's gonna meet you,” Cordelia tells them, handing Angel a piece of paper with her scribbling on it. Angel turns in it several directions before sussing out the correct way. Grabbing her purse, she smiles. “See ya!”
“Wait, where you goin’, luv?” Spike asks. He had expected her to join them.
“Calgon is so calling my name,” Cordy says. “You boys fight, I look pretty. It’s how it works.” She gives a little finger wave and is out the door.
“She’s an odd one, that,” Spike says.
“Like you’re one to talk,” Angel mutters under his breath. An indignant huff of air is the only indication that Spike heard him. “Come on, let’s get over there before these things get hungry.”
*********
Those things were very hungry.
Angel is bleeding slowly from a gash in his side where one tried to munch on him as he climbs up through the sewer access and into his apartment. He stoops to his knees and leans over the hole while Spike hefts his burden into the older demon’s arms.
It’s an unconscious, or perhaps dead, Jeffrey.
True professional that Tom is, he zooms in on his comrade with the camera, capturing the slack-jawed look.
Spike leaps up easily and closes the grate, apparently unscathed.
“What happened to him?” Tom asks, using the speed dial on his cell phone to call the producer. Calling 911, has not entered his mind yet.
“Bugger didn’t know when to stay out of the way,” Spike says, growling. He’d tried to protect the human, much to his demon's shame, but by the time he had turned to yell at the cameraman to move, it’d been too late.
“We need to get him to a hospital,” Angel says, seeing the cell phone in the other cameraman’s hands.
“Oh, right,” Tom says, hanging up and dialing 911. He feels stupid for not thinking of it first. Looking around, he remembers their location and feeds it to the operator, then hangs up and redials the producer to let him know they were going to need another camera guy.
Sirens ring out in the distance, and Spike slowly moves back. “’M gonna head back, write a report, or somethin’.”
Angel grabs his arm. “You go in my room and stay there until the paramedics leave.” He does not trust Spike not to do something stupid, like tell the truth.
Being evil has a way of making you exceptionally honest. You really have nothing to hide from or fear.
His childe is clearly not having any of it. He settles on the chair instead, intent on a front row seat to everything that happens. “I don’t think it works that way, Peaches.”
“No Spike,” he snatches him up and drags him by his shirt and hair into his bedroom. “You just don’t think.” The wall hits him hard, rude, Spike thinks as he gets to his feet.
“Well, then help me out, Sire. Tell me what I should be feeling.”
Angel freezes, catching on to what Spike is doing. “I’m not going to beat you, Spike.”
The blond scoffs. “And you apparently aren’t keeping your promises, you bloody welcher.”
As usual, Angel is left with a sense of guilt and oddly confused.
There are loud voices and stomping feet coming down, and Angel doesn’t have the time to argue. “Stay here,” he says firmly. Turning, Angel watches the paramedics come rushing in.
“How long has he been bleeding out like this?” one of the paramedics ask, taking out a stethoscope while the other puts on a blood pressure wrap around Jimmy’s arm.
“About fifteen minutes,” Angel says, no nonsense.
“What caused the bleeding?”
“I’m not sure.”
One of the paramedics, the one not asking questions, gasps and curses as he rips away cloth to expose the wound.
“We need to get him to the ER, now.” They fall silent, working efficiently and have him on a stretcher, stabilized, and ready to transport within 90 seconds. Angel is impressed with the advances in medicine. Fifty years ago, the man’s wound would have been mortal.
The whirlwind of activity leaves with the EMTs and Tom is on the phone, arguing for more pay. Angel shakes his head and goes to see about the annoying vampire in his room.
A crying Spike, sprawled out over his sheets, pale and vulnerable against the black fabric is not what he expected to find.
“I should have been faster, protected him better,” he sobs. “What if he’s got little bitty rugrats?”
Angel raises an eyebrow.
Sniffing, Spike wipes at his eyes. “He shouldn’t have come, should’ve told him to stay.”
“For once, Spike, it’s not your fault,” Angel says, grabbing a nearby chair and sitting down.
“Was closest to him, wasn’t I? Knew where it was goin’, but I couldn’t make it.” Fresh tears fall and he looks away from Angel. “Used to not care. I can remember not carin’.”
“You always cared, just not about the right things,” Angel says, remembering Spike’s old quirks. That caring had been what made Angelus want to break him, tear him apart, and build him back up, ruthless. It hadn’t worked, and for a moment, Angel is thankful for that.
“Sod off,” he mumbles into the sheets, taking in a deep breath of Angel. He flips over quickly, still upset, but trying to get past it. Acting like this, especially in front of his sire is humiliating to the extreme.
“Will you be alright?” Angel asks as he removes his shirt. The drying blood sticks to the fabric to his skin and he winces.
Spike experiences a wave of concern instantly followed by nausea. Still his mouth functions on its own. “Yeah, what about you? That looks nasty.” He reaches out runs his fingers lightly over the gash, and glances up at the brunette as he brings the blood to his lips. His blue eyes darken, becoming stormy and almost grey.
“Spike …” Angel whispers. Bad things happen when Spike gets that look, or good things depending on perspective.
“Can help you heal, you know.”
Heal what? he wants to ask, but doesn’t. A sharp pain races through his side and he winces. Spike clucks his tongue and shakes his head.
“’S not gonna hurt,” Spike says, still staring him in the eyes.
“Feels like it does.” Somehow, his breathing reflex had kicked in, making his skin pull with each breath.
“Quit bein’ a nancy and let me soddin’ look at it,” Spike says, his voice softer. He pulls Angel from the chair, pushes him down onto the bed, and kneels before him, examining the wound to his side. It’s a fairly deep gash and it is still bleeding. Carefully, Spike pulls at the shreds of Angel’s shirt, trying to see how far it goes. He hears Angel inhale sharply and mutters an apology, but doesn’t stop his examination.
Angel tries to sit still as cool nimble fingers, press and prod at his injury. It’s hard to do when his dick is reacting to it so … inappropriately, but he endures the touches with as much dignity as he can muster. Spike is being gentler than the older vampire expects and he suspects this is also a factor contributing to his body’s unseemly responses.
However, Spike appears to take no notice. “’S pretty deep.” Blue eyes regard him seriously. “You’ve a thing for being skewered then?”
They both grin and he goes about cleaning away the blood and wrapping Angel’s abdomen tightly with the gauze from the medical supplies. When satisfied with his work, he licks the drying blood from the pad of his thumb and gazes at Angel thoughtfully.
“I’m over a century in years now. Kept Dru going until we could get to you.” The invitation is there. All Angel has to do is accept.
It’s a temptation, dark and liquid, like Spike. There’s more than just blood being offered, Angel knows. There’s really no threat of him not healing - with time and plenty of blood, but the addition of Spike’s blood, family blood, would certainly speed up the process.
Almost as if Spike can read Angel’s mind, the blond says, “Keep you from bein’ down too long, unable to help an’ such.”
It is a good point, one Angel eventually would have thought of once the swelling in his dick went down. Finally, Angel relents with a short, barely visible nod of his head.
Lazily Spike shifts around until he is between Angel's legs, facing him, strong hands on powerful thighs, his neck gracifully exposed. This causes Angel’s prick to give an almighty jump. He makes and odd sound, and notices Spike watching him in silence.
Tom knows this will be good and stays completely still. He wants to zoom in, but the camera will make a sound if he does. His boss will kill him if he misses this shot due to being thrown out of the room.
Spike swallows, waiting. It’s been years since he’s had Angelus’ fangs in him and he is slightly unnerved by what he has willingly submitted to doing.
A large hand slips around the back of his neck, pulling him closer and Spike closes his eyes with a groan, jaw tight. Angel watches, his eyes darkened and flickering, his mouth half open, taking in his childe's scent and tasting it in the air, wild and lustful, yet tainted with the sadness that comes with the soul. The combination, so unexpected and familiar at once, makes his bones shift and fangs descend.
“Jesus, Spike,” he whispers as he bends over some to nuzzle into the soft white flesh, where he’ll strike. “Too long.”
Before Spike can say anything to screw up this moment, Angel’s fangs slide slowly into his flesh, his blood wells quickly to the surface, and the both moan with the first swallow.
Spike’s blood is stronger than Angel remembers. Already, Angel can feel the power pulsing through him. His hand tightens on the back of Spike’s head as his other arm reaches around, pulling Spike closer.
The scent of lust is heavy, spicing the air, wafting from the two of them and even Tom has to reach down and adjust himself though he doesn't really know why.
Having taken as much as he dares, Angel stops, nuzzling and licking the twin holes.
Spike shudders as Angel’s tongue slips over his skin, wet and cool, his cock throbbing in time with the soft caresses. His sire pulls back, staring at him, looking sheepish, but wearing a tiny smile.
“Feeling better?” the blond asks, his voice too deep.
Angel nods, watching Spike’s tongue slip between his lips to lick them. “Much.” He leans back in, and traces the small trail that has formed with his mouth, kissing and tasting the flesh as he moves along Spike’s jaw, not stopping until he reaches luscious full lips.
He prods Spike’s mouth until he opens up to him with a sigh. Pushing his tongue inside, in a parody of what he really wants to do to the vampire, Angel devours him, and Spike's burning, his head pounding with heat, and he’ll be nothing but dust when Angel is done, but does not move to stop him. Instead, he crushes closer and massages Angel through his pants as he spreads his legs wide.
It’s wrong, and right, and different, and Angel can already feel himself relenting to Spike’s touches and kisses. No matter that Angel had been the one to initiate this closeness with the acceptance of the younger’s blood, or the devouring of his mouth. A darker part of him insists that this is the way it is supposed to be, Spike on his knees, capitulating and bowing to his every need.
“Spike,” Angel starts, wanting to tell the blond to stop, wanting to crawl inside him, but he doesn’t say more as those nimble fingers begin to undo the button of his pants.
“Just let me, yeah?” Spike asks softly, looking up from what he is doing. He leans in and captures Angel’s mouth again, his hand snaking into the pants, squeezing the cock he finds there. His thumb swirls around the tip, gathering pre-cum. Pulling away, Spike makes a show of licking the pad of his thumb, smiling around it as he sucks it into his mouth.
“Fuck,” Angel groans and thrust his hips. He's lost this battle and is quickly resigned to the fact that he is lost his mind as well because screw Spike is really sounding like a good idea.
Unmindful of his still healing injury, Angel stands, letting his pants fall to the floor. Spike helps him remove his shoes. Before he can even sit down again, the quick little shit has his dick in his mouth.
He slurps on Angel’s cock, a small chuckle escaping his filled mouth as his the brunette bucks and groans. He closes around the hard shaft, sucking intently, swallowing him whole.
“Oh God,” Angel cries as his hands clutch at Spike, squeezing into his hair until he settles down. Spike doesn’t stop or slow and takes great pleasure in the harsh panting he hears above his head. With a pop he pulls off, his tongue swirling around the tip, spreading the stickiness.
He looks up at Angel who is still thrusting slowly, lost in feeling for a few seconds before glancing down with hooded eyes. “Spike …” It seems to be the only word he knows for sure.
“Take me, Sire,” he says, his blue eyes full of emotion and need.
Angel almost cums then, which would really piss him off because he wants to be buried inside that exquisite tightness when he does. He also plans to hear some begging. Angelus is very much around for this.
Pulling Spike up by the shoulders, Angel kisses him hard, his tongue delving and tasting, before he turns them both and pushes Spike to the bed. He puts the boy’s hands on the back the headboard and kneels behind him.
Suddenly, Angel has second thoughts.
“Are you sure?” Angel asks, his hands unconsciously kneading the jean-clad globes before him, a rouge finger trailing along the crease. He feels a shake run through the blond and smells tears before they actually fall to the couch.
“Don’t tease, Angelus,” Spike says, pulling away and kneeling up on the bed, ready to leave. “Can’t take that shite anymore.”
He pulls Spike flush to him, grinding into his ass, mouthing the back of his neck while he speaks. “No games. I wanna drive into you, hear you scream for me again, Spike. I wanna feel you shaking around me, clamping so tight I can’t move.”
Taking a nail, he scratches Spike on his shoulder and thrusts his hips into Spike again. “You should only bleed for me,” he says, licking away the tiny line. It heals quickly, and he has the overwhelming urge to mar the perfect skin. “No games, Spike.”
He knows it’s the soul, making him give in to the things he’s wanted for so long, denied himself forever its seems. In reality, it’s only been since he found the other vampire on the Hellmouth, but being without Him for a few years when he is so near, tangible, yet unattainable, feels like forever.
Hands slip to his waist and work the buttons on his jeans and he’s more than happy to submit to the older demon, just for now of course. Later he plans to give Angel a good winding up.
Angel inhales sharply as the zipper slides down on Spike’s pants. Pale flesh and a light dusting of brown hair is visible, leading straight to Spike’s cock, inviting Angel. Impatient, Angel pushes roughly at Spike’s pants and they fall to his knees, the blond kicking out of them easily.
“Perfect,” Angel growls softly. He hears an answering rumble in Spike’s chest. He wants to bend him over now, push into that forever-virgin hole, make Spike bleed and cry out his name like he has done a hundred times before, but he stops himself. That's not them right now.
Spinning the blond to face him, Angel attacks his mouth again, finally willing to give life to the urges that have taunted him since Spike showed up in Sunnydale. That mouth, with its soft lips and cruel tongue has always been a distraction and Angel is more than ready to go off on this tangent.
Angel presses forward, forcing Spike to lie back on the cotton comforter atop the bed. He does and brings his legs up to encircle Angel’s waist, groaning as he feels the muscles in his sire's back shifting, clutching him closer with his strong limbs. Grinding into him, Angel watches Spike as he archs and thrusts up, matching Angel’s passion.
His neck, pale and perfect, is exposed and the demon rears up before Angel can regain control, slicing into that skin, delighting when Spike cries out and bucks beneath him.
“Fuck, Angelus," he manages to choke out despite the lips around his throat making speech difficult.
A low, laugh comes from Angel, darker and deeper than he likes. Briefly, he has a moment of near panic, fearful that letting Angelus this close to the surface would be his downfall, but Spike rotates his hips, pressing into Angel’s already throbbing cock, chasing away any thoughts.
Hooking one of the blond’s pale legs around his arm, Angel guides his shaft to that nearly impenetrable opening, letting the weeping tip press lightly against it.
“Don’t bloody stop now,” Spike groans, thrusting his hips as much as possible, feeling the slick slide of skin on sensitive skin.
“You’re mine, William, always have been,” Angel says, voice thick with lust.
“Yeah,” comes a breathy whisper from the bed.
Slowly, tortuously, Angel pushes in, feeling the head of his dick constricted by the tight ring before it sucks him in. With a hard thrust and cries from both of them, he is fully sheathed, both panting hard.
Spike face is screwed up in pain and pleasure. The mixture is as all-consuming now as it had been a century ago. The scent of Sire surrounds him, permeating everything until he knows nothing else, and when the vampire begins to move inside him, the blond grips the headboard, his powerful hands crushing it where his fingers dig in.
Angel hears his furniture giving away and bends lower, his mouth brushing Spike’s ear. “Hands over your head, Spike, and keep them there. Understand?” His childe trembles, Angel’s voice sending hot electric tendrils straight to the other vampires cock, and he whimpers as his belly sinks. But he obeys, so far gone into his demon that the human in him is nowhere to be found and his need to belong to his creator overrides the pride that normally drives him.
Yet he has not answered Angel and his Sire pulls out of the choking hole nearly all the way before slamming back inside, tearing a shocked yelp from Spike.
“Do you understand?” he asks again, staring lustfully at the blond locks as Spike’s head lolls from side to side.
“Yes, bloody hell, yes,” Spike cries out. Each loud smack of their skin vibrates through his body. His eyes roll back in his head as his sire, knowing just where to pump, just how fast and hard to make the fucking, sends him spiraling higher.
It is perfect, and right, and it’s been so long since Spike has felt any kind of connection with Angel, that he has to squeeze his eyes shut to block out the unwanted emotions builing in him.
“Angelus,” he pants, nearly moving his hands, wanting to grab the other vampire, pull him down, pour out everything he feels running through him into a long, fervent kiss.
Angel feels Spike’s desire for him as his body tries to keep him inside with every thrust. He hears the need in the sharp gasps and long exultant sighs that break through drying lips. He tastes his passion as it fills the air, making it thick and welcoming. He sees his heart in a single tear. He knows him through his submission.
His own name whispered softly has Angel's belly dropping hard into his balls and they tighten, ready for what is inevitable. Quickly, he grabs Spike’s shaft, pumping it wildly as the blond shouts his orgasm, screams his name. And Angel is faltering while his own release comes in jagged-edged spurts, cutting him with keen intensity, and he makes a few last erratic strokes into the place where he never wants to leave.
For a second he wonders what he’s done, because he is so damned happy at the moment he fears for his soul, but that alone is enough to secure it and he relaxes, caressing Spike’s sides and hips as they both come down.
Spike is cursing softly through his hard, ragged breathing. He feels torn apart and put back together. While soulless, he had been able to revel in this feeling and did not give it much thought. But now, he feels used and wanted and tired and confused.
With much care, Angel pulls Spike to his side, spooning against him, afraid of the tears that may come and wanting to make them stop before they start. He grabs the covers and pulls them so that they are covering at least Spike.
“Spike,” Angel says softly, unsure of what to do or what to say.
Immediately, Spike stills, his blue eyes wide, and turns to the voice.
“Sire,” Spike says before turning away, shutting his eyes.
There's a tightening in Angel's chest. That one word, sire, is the totality if all he is supposed to be to the younger vampire. To hear it spoken without disdain or mockery is a new thing, making him feel …Angel stops short and rolls his eyes. Soon he'll be spouting sonnets about the beauty of Spike’s eyes, which is totally not going to happen. Shaking himself free of the spell sex with Spike has him under, he leaves the bedroom and does a check of all the locks before turning out the lights and slipping back between the crumpled sheets and behind his boy. Today has ended a lot better than it started and he is hopeful about tomorrow.
Feeling Angel’s hard chest pressing against his back, Spike leans into him, sighing. His eyes are closed but he sees everything in his mind. When, despite himself, Angel presses a kiss to the back of his neck, Spike trembles inside with something he does not like to name and smiles into the pillow.
But “Amazing Pouf” is all he says before falling into a deep sleep.
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