Untitled 4/?
Dec. 15th, 2006 12:18 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sevendeadlyfunRating: Hard R
Warnings: bloodplay, m/m sexual situation
Disclaimer: Still not mine
Echoes
Angel stalked through the hotel, determined to save at least one of them tonight. His mistakes had cost all of them. Cordy, Wes, Fred, Lorne, Connor, Darla, Drusilla…all lost to him now. Some dead, some driven away, but gone just the same. His Little One, all broken in his bed. The image was stuck inside his eyes, and no matter how many times he tried to wipe it away, it came flickering back. He knew what had to happen next. All he wanted to do was ensure that Gunn, the last human member of his team, would survive. Then, he could rejoin Spike and take care of all the rest.
“You are weak. Flawed. A pathetic excuse for a leader.”
The words, said in that blank bitter voice, echoed his own thoughts so perfectly that he was shocked to see Illyria standing in front of him. Angel’s sharp hollow laugh was probably the last thing she was expecting, but he couldn’t help himself. He rubbed at his eyes again, still trying to rid them of the ugly sights of that evening.
“You know what, Ilyria? I’d just about worked that out for myself. How’s Gunn?”
“He is dead.”
“What?” Angel staggered backwards, sliding down a wall.
“He could not have survived this battle. Your actions insured that.”
Illyria’s hooded eyes scanned Angel’s body, taking him in and dismissing him in the same instant. “You killed Wesley. I should destroy you where you stand.”
“You’re right. I killed him. I killed all of them. I made a bargain with the devil and I thought that only I would have to pay the price. I was a fool.”
His blunt admission seemed to surprise Illyria. She was quiet for a moment and then she said, “Now you understand the true nature of power. The powerful never answer for their actions. Only those without power must face the consequences. Did you truly believe this would end any other way?”
Her words hit Angel like stakes, piercing his heart so deeply he expected to fall to dust. But, regardless of the pain, he still stood there and he knew his duty. Oh, none knew better the cost of duty. His jaw clenched. He could feel his control slipping. Angel had centuries of practice at working an iron will, but somehow he wondered if all of this would finally undo him.
“Do you need…anything,” Angel asked lamely. He realized he had no idea if Illyria even required food or sleep.
“No, half-breed. I require nothing from you. Tend to the Vessel and the white-haired one. I will ensure no harm comes to your pets this night.” She turned and was gone.
Angel knew he should follow her, knew he should somehow try to make this one thing right. But his mind and his heart called him back to bed, to where his children were curled up together. Both dead. With that thought, he raced back the way he came.
He tore into the room on an unnatural burst of speed. He’d never moved so fast in his entire unlife. Not from demons, or demon hunters. Not from Slayers or Apocalypses. He needed to be here, with them.
Before he even reached the room, he had scented Spike’s tears. The salt of his pain wormed it’s way inside Angel and ravaged him. With a leap, he was next to his most beloved vicious Childe, arms enfolding him.
“Ssh, William, ssh,” he crooned, naming him as he hadn’t for a hundred years. “I’m here now. I’m back.”
“We did this, we did this to her. We promised her, ‘Gelus. We both promised her we’d never leave her. Promised with our blood and our words that we’d always be there. Always keep a promise to a lady and we didn’t. WE LEFT HER!” Spike was near to screaming now, in rage and pain and hate. “She was OURS, OURS. Our blood, our love, our baby…” His demon childe was uncontrollable now, his fangs ripping into Angel’s throat. Angel drew him closer, arching to give Spike better access to his blood. Maybe blood would cool the fire, maybe the pull of family in his veins would damp down his misery. At this point, Angel was damn near ready to try anything.
Spike felt the cool, rich fluid in his mouth. Swallowing, he drew his Sire inside him, taking him all the way down into his belly. With Angel’s arms around him and Angel’s blood humming inside his head, he could almost believe the last hundred years had never happened. He was once again William the Bloody, Beloved Childe of Angelus, safe in his Master’s arms. His cock thickened, swelling against Angel’s thigh, throbbing in vain for a release a hundred years distant. He rocked against Angel, whimpering his pain and his need.
Angel stroked his back, running his hands up and down Spike’s lean torso. He could feel the fragile threads of his self-control stretching taut. He knew he was seconds away from ripping and tearing into Spike, giving them both the release their bodies craved so desperately. He too was feeling the pull of family, of ties long broken. They were both rock solid and thrusting, seeking friction to soothe their aching bodies.
Abruptly, Spike withdrew his fangs and began licking Angel’s wounded neck. “Sire,” he moaned helplessly. “I think…’Lia…”
Angel released Spike, letting his arms fall to his sides. In a near synchronous movement, they both turned their heads to the forgotten girl next to them. Her skin flushed pink and she opened her mouth, gasping greedily for air. Her eyes were still closed, but there was no mistaking the thundering heartbeat that filled their ears, singing like wild music. She was back.
Warnings: bloodplay, m/m sexual situation
Disclaimer: Still not mine
Echoes
Angel stalked through the hotel, determined to save at least one of them tonight. His mistakes had cost all of them. Cordy, Wes, Fred, Lorne, Connor, Darla, Drusilla…all lost to him now. Some dead, some driven away, but gone just the same. His Little One, all broken in his bed. The image was stuck inside his eyes, and no matter how many times he tried to wipe it away, it came flickering back. He knew what had to happen next. All he wanted to do was ensure that Gunn, the last human member of his team, would survive. Then, he could rejoin Spike and take care of all the rest.
“You are weak. Flawed. A pathetic excuse for a leader.”
The words, said in that blank bitter voice, echoed his own thoughts so perfectly that he was shocked to see Illyria standing in front of him. Angel’s sharp hollow laugh was probably the last thing she was expecting, but he couldn’t help himself. He rubbed at his eyes again, still trying to rid them of the ugly sights of that evening.
“You know what, Ilyria? I’d just about worked that out for myself. How’s Gunn?”
“He is dead.”
“What?” Angel staggered backwards, sliding down a wall.
“He could not have survived this battle. Your actions insured that.”
Illyria’s hooded eyes scanned Angel’s body, taking him in and dismissing him in the same instant. “You killed Wesley. I should destroy you where you stand.”
“You’re right. I killed him. I killed all of them. I made a bargain with the devil and I thought that only I would have to pay the price. I was a fool.”
His blunt admission seemed to surprise Illyria. She was quiet for a moment and then she said, “Now you understand the true nature of power. The powerful never answer for their actions. Only those without power must face the consequences. Did you truly believe this would end any other way?”
Her words hit Angel like stakes, piercing his heart so deeply he expected to fall to dust. But, regardless of the pain, he still stood there and he knew his duty. Oh, none knew better the cost of duty. His jaw clenched. He could feel his control slipping. Angel had centuries of practice at working an iron will, but somehow he wondered if all of this would finally undo him.
“Do you need…anything,” Angel asked lamely. He realized he had no idea if Illyria even required food or sleep.
“No, half-breed. I require nothing from you. Tend to the Vessel and the white-haired one. I will ensure no harm comes to your pets this night.” She turned and was gone.
Angel knew he should follow her, knew he should somehow try to make this one thing right. But his mind and his heart called him back to bed, to where his children were curled up together. Both dead. With that thought, he raced back the way he came.
He tore into the room on an unnatural burst of speed. He’d never moved so fast in his entire unlife. Not from demons, or demon hunters. Not from Slayers or Apocalypses. He needed to be here, with them.
Before he even reached the room, he had scented Spike’s tears. The salt of his pain wormed it’s way inside Angel and ravaged him. With a leap, he was next to his most beloved vicious Childe, arms enfolding him.
“Ssh, William, ssh,” he crooned, naming him as he hadn’t for a hundred years. “I’m here now. I’m back.”
“We did this, we did this to her. We promised her, ‘Gelus. We both promised her we’d never leave her. Promised with our blood and our words that we’d always be there. Always keep a promise to a lady and we didn’t. WE LEFT HER!” Spike was near to screaming now, in rage and pain and hate. “She was OURS, OURS. Our blood, our love, our baby…” His demon childe was uncontrollable now, his fangs ripping into Angel’s throat. Angel drew him closer, arching to give Spike better access to his blood. Maybe blood would cool the fire, maybe the pull of family in his veins would damp down his misery. At this point, Angel was damn near ready to try anything.
Spike felt the cool, rich fluid in his mouth. Swallowing, he drew his Sire inside him, taking him all the way down into his belly. With Angel’s arms around him and Angel’s blood humming inside his head, he could almost believe the last hundred years had never happened. He was once again William the Bloody, Beloved Childe of Angelus, safe in his Master’s arms. His cock thickened, swelling against Angel’s thigh, throbbing in vain for a release a hundred years distant. He rocked against Angel, whimpering his pain and his need.
Angel stroked his back, running his hands up and down Spike’s lean torso. He could feel the fragile threads of his self-control stretching taut. He knew he was seconds away from ripping and tearing into Spike, giving them both the release their bodies craved so desperately. He too was feeling the pull of family, of ties long broken. They were both rock solid and thrusting, seeking friction to soothe their aching bodies.
Abruptly, Spike withdrew his fangs and began licking Angel’s wounded neck. “Sire,” he moaned helplessly. “I think…’Lia…”
Angel released Spike, letting his arms fall to his sides. In a near synchronous movement, they both turned their heads to the forgotten girl next to them. Her skin flushed pink and she opened her mouth, gasping greedily for air. Her eyes were still closed, but there was no mistaking the thundering heartbeat that filled their ears, singing like wild music. She was back.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
on 2006-12-15 08:40 pm (UTC)how about a rich helping of daddy!kink where Angel is in Sunnydale after the scene where Buffy beats up Spike in the alley and leaves him there but she has beaten him up worse than in the episode.
Angel finds him takes him back to the crypt and tends his wounds. But because of the injuries and to make his boy feel better Angel sucks him and rides him before finally fucking Spike...
All the daddy possessive kink you want but I would really like to see Angel taking Spike's cock even if it is on top.
*snuggles*
no subject
on 2006-12-16 02:26 am (UTC)