sevendeadlyfun (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sevendeadlyfun) wrote2007-01-04 12:33 am
sevendeadlyfun) wrote2007-01-04 12:33 am
Entry tags:
Supervision II
Pairing: Spike/Angel (Is there another?)
Genre: Slash
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: No bigs. Just plain old gay vampire sex here...
A/N: Some dialogue taken from AtS Season FIve Episodes "Soul Purpose" and "Damage". No infringement intended, not mine, just borrowing, totally broke, so on and so forth ad infinitum ad nauseam...
This is the sequel to "Supervision", which the title should make plain. However, I like to be thorough...
Supervision II
The high-pitched screaming filled Angel’s head, and he winced. He had to make it stop, had to leave this unreality. He had to fight. The fight made him clean. Make it stop, make it stop, makeitstopmakeitstop…
“That’ll be a bitch of a clean-up.”
Angel’s eye flew open. Dazed, he turned his blurry gaze upward. It was…
“Spike?”
The slender blonde, his face impassive, swung around. Staring down, he replied obliquely, “No need to thank me. Just helping the helpless.” With that he strode off, leaving Angel on the floor staring after him.
Later, after he’d recovered and his friends had left, Angel made his way back up to the penthouse. He desperately needed a shower and some real sleep. A nice peaceful dreamless sleep would do wonders, he assured himself. Vampire or not, neurotoxins could really screw up your head.
So when he tossed restlessly in his large bed, it wasn’t because he was lonely or scared. It had nothing to do with beautiful Childe saving his life and then running off. It was strictly a side effect of the neurotoxins.
He snorted, sitting up amid squashed pillows and mussed blankets. Even he couldn’t convince himself of that. Yeah, the neurotoxins forced him to confront a lot of his fears. But those fears weren’t about Spike, they were about himself. His constant feelings of personal worthlessness and self-loathing didn’t come from Spike. Hell, Spike was one of the few things in his life he actually felt good about.
Except, of course, he never told Spike that. He couldn’t bring himself to be that vulnerable in the face of Spike’s razor sharp wit. It’s not as if Spike actually cared about him, Angel pouted. Sure, he’d come unbidden to save Angel’s life. But he didn’t stick around. Just did his good deed and left, even refused to let Angel thank him.
Did Spike think he was that big an ass? Did Spike really think he’d receive no gratitude from Angel? Probably, Angel conceded. Once again, he’d never given Spike any reason to think differently. And yet, Spike had come to him. Rescued him, though Angel was loathe to think he needed rescuing.
Maybe he did. Maybe he was being eaten alive, not just by Selminth parasites, but by his unlife. Could Spike rescue him from that? Could anyone, really? He knew damn well he couldn’t save himself. He was flailing, drowning, completely fucked.
That was why he’d dreamed of that peace. A comfortable chair in a peaceful sunlit field had been his most potent fever dream and it didn’t take Freud to translate that one. Angel craved a little peace, a small corner where he could rest, just stop being for a little while.
That cut it, as far as Angel was concerned. He lifted up the phone, and after a brief conversation, settled in to wait. He had to find out, once and for all, whether or not there was any way this could be real. He’d had enough of playing pretend. It was time to give reality a try.
The knock on the door irritated Spike. He’d had enough for today. First Angel’s pet humans come calling, then bloody Doyle and his visions, now this. Spike convienently left out the part of his evening involving Angel. Didn’t want to think about that ponce. Hurt sometimes, but mostly it just made him angry. Angel, of all people, ought to know better. He was going to get himself dusted, all because he was too damn naïve to admit that evil never changes. How many times had he tried to remind Angel of that? Since the first time they’d been reunited, that’s how sodding long. Still Angel wouldn’t listen to him.
“Treats me like I’m a moron, but I’m not, “ Spike muttered, walking towards the door. “Got more education than that overgrown Mick. Hell, I taught ‘im how to read!”
Still pissed, Spike flung open the door. Standing in front of him was a smallish man in a suit. Spike stared, confused at this turn of events. He had no clue and as he opened his mouth to demand his visitor give him a good explanation, he felt himself growing light-headed. Before the lights in Spike’s head winked out, all he thought was, “Told him so…”
By the time Angel received his own knock at the door, he was up and pacing. What was taking them so long? What was the point in running an admittedly evil empire if they couldn’t even retrieve one vampire for him? It wasn’t as if Spike was hard to find. His boy had always stood out in a crowd, his beauty and joy drawing all eyes towards him.
He answered the door, practically bouncing up and down with excitement. Spike was here. Angel had sent for him and he’d come. That had to mean something, right? Or it might have, had Spike not been unconscious. An unknown man was carrying his boy, and Angel couldn’t work out why.
“What happened? Was he injured? Does he need medical attention?” The words rushed out of Angel’s mouth as he yanked Spike away from the man.
“No, sir. He’ll come around in a few minutes, “ the man answered evenly.
“Come around? What are you talking about? Why is he unconscious in the first place? WHAT HAPPENED?” Angel was yelling now. His boy, his Spike, was out cold for no discernible reason. Angel inspected his face and head, checking for lumps, blood, something that would explain the situation.
“You gave the order to retrieve the other souled vampire. I was under the impression you wanted him brought here, sir. If I erred, I apologize. However, I received no instructions to terminate the subject. If your orders were miscommunicated to me, I could…” the man explained, removing a stake from the inside pocket of his suit jacket.
“You have 10 seconds to start running, “ Angel stated, voice soft. “I gave orders to have Spike contacted and invited here. I said nothing about harming him. Leave now and I might forget that I want to kill you.”
The man turned and walked out of the penthouse, just as casually as he’d walked in. Angel stared down at Spike, breathing heavily. This was going to be so bad. He was barely reining in Angelus, so to distract himself, he started listing the ways in which this situation was going to explode in his face.
First, Spike was going to kill him. He would assume he’d been attacked on Angel’s orders, and would respond accordingly. Second, there was no way Spike was going to be up for a nice chat about how much Angel needed him. Third, Angel felt pretty certain that Spike wouldn’t feel at all interested in giving Angel a little love and comfort. Angel winced. That part was probably the ugliest. He’d really been looking forward to feeling Spike’s arms around him. Damn.
Well, since this whole situation was going to end in his very painful death, Angel figured he might as well make his death worth it. He leaned over and pressed his lips firmly on Spike’s. They were soft and plump, and Angel sucked lightly on Spike’s lower lip. God, it was just as tasty as he remembered. For years, whenever the soul got to him, Angel would try to distract himself with happy memories. Spike’s lips had ranked high on that list. After a while, Angel thought he must be making it up. No way could anyone’s mouth be so utterly delectable. But, it was. It really really was as good as he’d remembered.
Spike’s eyes fluttered open and he groaned, raising a hand to his head. Bleedin’ Christ, this was just as bad as that chip! Of course, he didn’t remember the chip making his lip feel all moist and quivery like this….OH. It was Angel. Angel was sucking on his lip like it was a nice juicy lolly. This couldn’t be good.
Spike pulled back, but he didn’t get very far. The iron arms holding him might have had something to with that. He glanced around and then met Angel’s concerned gaze.
“Oh. Well, fancy this. Bitty slug I saved you from scramble your brains after all?”
‘N-no, “ Angel stammered. This was definitely not the reaction he’d been expecting. Spike was still lying in his arms and there weren’t any death threats yet. Angel smiled, deliriously happy.
“So, what then? You sent the mojo man after me because you heard a great new joke and just couldn’t wait to share? I gotta tell you, Angel, you should really investigate the 21st century. There’s this nifty invention called the…” Whatever Spike was going to say got lost in Angel’s mouth. It was nice in there, Spike reflected woozily. So warm and moist and bleedin’ fuck, he was kissing Angel. Really kissing him, and it felt like sunshine.
Then there was something soft and comfortable underneath him. Angel’s hands were everywhere, all 10 of them. Spike lost his clothes in the tussle, but it didn’t seem too important. Angel was petting him, stroking his face and hair, caressing his arms, and always there were those lovely lips on his, firm tongue probing deeply inside his mouth. Spike started to wonder if Angel was searching out his soul by way of his oral cavity.
Angel meant to have a reasoned discussion with Spike. There were important points that had to be made, he remembered. He had to tell Spike how much he needed him, wanted him. But then Spike had started talking. Angel wasn’t completely clear on what because there hadn’t been any sound. Just full pink lips moving distractingly, tempting him to come join them. Once he’d accepted the invitation, he’d gotten lost. The bed, they needed the bed. And less clothes, because who wore clothes to bed?
There was skin. Through the haze of Angel’s drugging kisses, Spike felt skin touching his. It had been so long since anyone had touched him. He missed that, the power of a simple touch. He’d been insubstantial for so long, just air and light, nothing real about him. This made him feel real again, the light touches falling on his skin like rain. He moved his hands, touching the skin around him. It was hard, stretched taut over a large frame. It felt solid, impregnable. It felt safe, this skin.
Angel moaned into Spike’s mouth. Spike was touching him, running his hands up and down Angel’s back. Spike, who would be his anchor, keep him from being lost in the storm. He needed more. He needed all of Spike.
Angel took one hand off Spike, regretting the loss of contact immediately. His fingers groped around the table next to bed, finally closing around the tube. He couldn’t wait, even though he knew he should. There should be talking, but he didn’t want to talk. He wanted to feel. He wanted to be found.
Hastily squirting some lube on his hand, he worked his own entrance, stretching and slicking it in order to make this as pleasurable as possible. Reaching down, he stroked Spike’s raging erection, spreading the lube up and down. Spike was moaning now, panting around Angel’s tongue. Angel pinched Spike’s foreskin lightly, dragging it across the moist tip. Spike convulsed, and began pumping himself into Angel’s hand. Rolling them over, Angel climbed on top of Spike, lips never parting.
Oh, there was more mojo, Spike thought faintly. Had to be, because his cock was tingling and he smelled peaches. Finest kind of magic, that, to make his prick feel all slick and hot. Then he was shuddering and thrusting, his cockhead prickling and buzzing in a delightful way. The hands were gone now, but the lips were there. The earth turned and swallowed him down, enclosing his throbbing cock in a tight sheathe. Spike thrust upwards, craving more.
Angel slid down Spike’s shaft, taking him inside in one fluid motion. He’d had lots of practice taking this particular cock, and there was no pain. He was whole now, Spike underneath him and inside him and around him. Spike’s arms wrapped around him and he was pushing his cock deep inside Angel. This was what he’d been missing with the dildo. The connection, the security of Spike’s arm and his mouth loving Angel’s and just…”Spike!”
Someone was calling his name. His lips free, Spike responded, never missing a thrust or letting go of the firm body in his arms.
“Got you, pet…feel so wonderful…oh yeah, that’s my luv…gonna fill you up….give it to you…make you feel so good…fuck, that’s lovely… “ Spike knew he was babbling and he didn’t care. The tightness around his cock was clenching rhythmically and his balls were boiling over. He spilled jet after jet of cum deep inside, moaning words of love and praise.
Angel felt Spike’s cock hit his prostate, battering at the sensitive nub and pushing him over the edge. He heard Spike’s voice, love and good and fuck and he came, spilling himself on Spike’s belly without a hand ever touching his cock. He fell over, his head resting on Spike’s shoulder.
Spike’s hand moved up, petting the head on his shoulder. That was the best sex he’d ever had, and while he still wasn’t clear on the details, he didn’t care. He felt warm and happy and cared for. That was all that really mattered, he supposed. It hadn’t felt like this in quite awhile. The last time had been with….
“Angel?”
TBC….
Genre: Slash
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: No bigs. Just plain old gay vampire sex here...
A/N: Some dialogue taken from AtS Season FIve Episodes "Soul Purpose" and "Damage". No infringement intended, not mine, just borrowing, totally broke, so on and so forth ad infinitum ad nauseam...
This is the sequel to "Supervision", which the title should make plain. However, I like to be thorough...
Supervision II
The high-pitched screaming filled Angel’s head, and he winced. He had to make it stop, had to leave this unreality. He had to fight. The fight made him clean. Make it stop, make it stop, makeitstopmakeitstop…
“That’ll be a bitch of a clean-up.”
Angel’s eye flew open. Dazed, he turned his blurry gaze upward. It was…
“Spike?”
The slender blonde, his face impassive, swung around. Staring down, he replied obliquely, “No need to thank me. Just helping the helpless.” With that he strode off, leaving Angel on the floor staring after him.
Later, after he’d recovered and his friends had left, Angel made his way back up to the penthouse. He desperately needed a shower and some real sleep. A nice peaceful dreamless sleep would do wonders, he assured himself. Vampire or not, neurotoxins could really screw up your head.
So when he tossed restlessly in his large bed, it wasn’t because he was lonely or scared. It had nothing to do with beautiful Childe saving his life and then running off. It was strictly a side effect of the neurotoxins.
He snorted, sitting up amid squashed pillows and mussed blankets. Even he couldn’t convince himself of that. Yeah, the neurotoxins forced him to confront a lot of his fears. But those fears weren’t about Spike, they were about himself. His constant feelings of personal worthlessness and self-loathing didn’t come from Spike. Hell, Spike was one of the few things in his life he actually felt good about.
Except, of course, he never told Spike that. He couldn’t bring himself to be that vulnerable in the face of Spike’s razor sharp wit. It’s not as if Spike actually cared about him, Angel pouted. Sure, he’d come unbidden to save Angel’s life. But he didn’t stick around. Just did his good deed and left, even refused to let Angel thank him.
Did Spike think he was that big an ass? Did Spike really think he’d receive no gratitude from Angel? Probably, Angel conceded. Once again, he’d never given Spike any reason to think differently. And yet, Spike had come to him. Rescued him, though Angel was loathe to think he needed rescuing.
Maybe he did. Maybe he was being eaten alive, not just by Selminth parasites, but by his unlife. Could Spike rescue him from that? Could anyone, really? He knew damn well he couldn’t save himself. He was flailing, drowning, completely fucked.
That was why he’d dreamed of that peace. A comfortable chair in a peaceful sunlit field had been his most potent fever dream and it didn’t take Freud to translate that one. Angel craved a little peace, a small corner where he could rest, just stop being for a little while.
That cut it, as far as Angel was concerned. He lifted up the phone, and after a brief conversation, settled in to wait. He had to find out, once and for all, whether or not there was any way this could be real. He’d had enough of playing pretend. It was time to give reality a try.
The knock on the door irritated Spike. He’d had enough for today. First Angel’s pet humans come calling, then bloody Doyle and his visions, now this. Spike convienently left out the part of his evening involving Angel. Didn’t want to think about that ponce. Hurt sometimes, but mostly it just made him angry. Angel, of all people, ought to know better. He was going to get himself dusted, all because he was too damn naïve to admit that evil never changes. How many times had he tried to remind Angel of that? Since the first time they’d been reunited, that’s how sodding long. Still Angel wouldn’t listen to him.
“Treats me like I’m a moron, but I’m not, “ Spike muttered, walking towards the door. “Got more education than that overgrown Mick. Hell, I taught ‘im how to read!”
Still pissed, Spike flung open the door. Standing in front of him was a smallish man in a suit. Spike stared, confused at this turn of events. He had no clue and as he opened his mouth to demand his visitor give him a good explanation, he felt himself growing light-headed. Before the lights in Spike’s head winked out, all he thought was, “Told him so…”
By the time Angel received his own knock at the door, he was up and pacing. What was taking them so long? What was the point in running an admittedly evil empire if they couldn’t even retrieve one vampire for him? It wasn’t as if Spike was hard to find. His boy had always stood out in a crowd, his beauty and joy drawing all eyes towards him.
He answered the door, practically bouncing up and down with excitement. Spike was here. Angel had sent for him and he’d come. That had to mean something, right? Or it might have, had Spike not been unconscious. An unknown man was carrying his boy, and Angel couldn’t work out why.
“What happened? Was he injured? Does he need medical attention?” The words rushed out of Angel’s mouth as he yanked Spike away from the man.
“No, sir. He’ll come around in a few minutes, “ the man answered evenly.
“Come around? What are you talking about? Why is he unconscious in the first place? WHAT HAPPENED?” Angel was yelling now. His boy, his Spike, was out cold for no discernible reason. Angel inspected his face and head, checking for lumps, blood, something that would explain the situation.
“You gave the order to retrieve the other souled vampire. I was under the impression you wanted him brought here, sir. If I erred, I apologize. However, I received no instructions to terminate the subject. If your orders were miscommunicated to me, I could…” the man explained, removing a stake from the inside pocket of his suit jacket.
“You have 10 seconds to start running, “ Angel stated, voice soft. “I gave orders to have Spike contacted and invited here. I said nothing about harming him. Leave now and I might forget that I want to kill you.”
The man turned and walked out of the penthouse, just as casually as he’d walked in. Angel stared down at Spike, breathing heavily. This was going to be so bad. He was barely reining in Angelus, so to distract himself, he started listing the ways in which this situation was going to explode in his face.
First, Spike was going to kill him. He would assume he’d been attacked on Angel’s orders, and would respond accordingly. Second, there was no way Spike was going to be up for a nice chat about how much Angel needed him. Third, Angel felt pretty certain that Spike wouldn’t feel at all interested in giving Angel a little love and comfort. Angel winced. That part was probably the ugliest. He’d really been looking forward to feeling Spike’s arms around him. Damn.
Well, since this whole situation was going to end in his very painful death, Angel figured he might as well make his death worth it. He leaned over and pressed his lips firmly on Spike’s. They were soft and plump, and Angel sucked lightly on Spike’s lower lip. God, it was just as tasty as he remembered. For years, whenever the soul got to him, Angel would try to distract himself with happy memories. Spike’s lips had ranked high on that list. After a while, Angel thought he must be making it up. No way could anyone’s mouth be so utterly delectable. But, it was. It really really was as good as he’d remembered.
Spike’s eyes fluttered open and he groaned, raising a hand to his head. Bleedin’ Christ, this was just as bad as that chip! Of course, he didn’t remember the chip making his lip feel all moist and quivery like this….OH. It was Angel. Angel was sucking on his lip like it was a nice juicy lolly. This couldn’t be good.
Spike pulled back, but he didn’t get very far. The iron arms holding him might have had something to with that. He glanced around and then met Angel’s concerned gaze.
“Oh. Well, fancy this. Bitty slug I saved you from scramble your brains after all?”
‘N-no, “ Angel stammered. This was definitely not the reaction he’d been expecting. Spike was still lying in his arms and there weren’t any death threats yet. Angel smiled, deliriously happy.
“So, what then? You sent the mojo man after me because you heard a great new joke and just couldn’t wait to share? I gotta tell you, Angel, you should really investigate the 21st century. There’s this nifty invention called the…” Whatever Spike was going to say got lost in Angel’s mouth. It was nice in there, Spike reflected woozily. So warm and moist and bleedin’ fuck, he was kissing Angel. Really kissing him, and it felt like sunshine.
Then there was something soft and comfortable underneath him. Angel’s hands were everywhere, all 10 of them. Spike lost his clothes in the tussle, but it didn’t seem too important. Angel was petting him, stroking his face and hair, caressing his arms, and always there were those lovely lips on his, firm tongue probing deeply inside his mouth. Spike started to wonder if Angel was searching out his soul by way of his oral cavity.
Angel meant to have a reasoned discussion with Spike. There were important points that had to be made, he remembered. He had to tell Spike how much he needed him, wanted him. But then Spike had started talking. Angel wasn’t completely clear on what because there hadn’t been any sound. Just full pink lips moving distractingly, tempting him to come join them. Once he’d accepted the invitation, he’d gotten lost. The bed, they needed the bed. And less clothes, because who wore clothes to bed?
There was skin. Through the haze of Angel’s drugging kisses, Spike felt skin touching his. It had been so long since anyone had touched him. He missed that, the power of a simple touch. He’d been insubstantial for so long, just air and light, nothing real about him. This made him feel real again, the light touches falling on his skin like rain. He moved his hands, touching the skin around him. It was hard, stretched taut over a large frame. It felt solid, impregnable. It felt safe, this skin.
Angel moaned into Spike’s mouth. Spike was touching him, running his hands up and down Angel’s back. Spike, who would be his anchor, keep him from being lost in the storm. He needed more. He needed all of Spike.
Angel took one hand off Spike, regretting the loss of contact immediately. His fingers groped around the table next to bed, finally closing around the tube. He couldn’t wait, even though he knew he should. There should be talking, but he didn’t want to talk. He wanted to feel. He wanted to be found.
Hastily squirting some lube on his hand, he worked his own entrance, stretching and slicking it in order to make this as pleasurable as possible. Reaching down, he stroked Spike’s raging erection, spreading the lube up and down. Spike was moaning now, panting around Angel’s tongue. Angel pinched Spike’s foreskin lightly, dragging it across the moist tip. Spike convulsed, and began pumping himself into Angel’s hand. Rolling them over, Angel climbed on top of Spike, lips never parting.
Oh, there was more mojo, Spike thought faintly. Had to be, because his cock was tingling and he smelled peaches. Finest kind of magic, that, to make his prick feel all slick and hot. Then he was shuddering and thrusting, his cockhead prickling and buzzing in a delightful way. The hands were gone now, but the lips were there. The earth turned and swallowed him down, enclosing his throbbing cock in a tight sheathe. Spike thrust upwards, craving more.
Angel slid down Spike’s shaft, taking him inside in one fluid motion. He’d had lots of practice taking this particular cock, and there was no pain. He was whole now, Spike underneath him and inside him and around him. Spike’s arms wrapped around him and he was pushing his cock deep inside Angel. This was what he’d been missing with the dildo. The connection, the security of Spike’s arm and his mouth loving Angel’s and just…”Spike!”
Someone was calling his name. His lips free, Spike responded, never missing a thrust or letting go of the firm body in his arms.
“Got you, pet…feel so wonderful…oh yeah, that’s my luv…gonna fill you up….give it to you…make you feel so good…fuck, that’s lovely… “ Spike knew he was babbling and he didn’t care. The tightness around his cock was clenching rhythmically and his balls were boiling over. He spilled jet after jet of cum deep inside, moaning words of love and praise.
Angel felt Spike’s cock hit his prostate, battering at the sensitive nub and pushing him over the edge. He heard Spike’s voice, love and good and fuck and he came, spilling himself on Spike’s belly without a hand ever touching his cock. He fell over, his head resting on Spike’s shoulder.
Spike’s hand moved up, petting the head on his shoulder. That was the best sex he’d ever had, and while he still wasn’t clear on the details, he didn’t care. He felt warm and happy and cared for. That was all that really mattered, he supposed. It hadn’t felt like this in quite awhile. The last time had been with….
“Angel?”
TBC….