Turnabout (1/2)
Jul. 12th, 2008 08:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sevendeadlyfunMy ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
cya_ficathon assignment is finally complete:
Pairing: Spike/Angel(us)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: William the Bloody, Sire to Angelus, the Scourge of Europe. Had an almost poetical ring to it.
A/N: Written for thecya_ficathon using tamingthemuse prompt #103-temptation. Beta'ed by my very best girl ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kidcyclone and written for her, as well. Original assignment is...well, irrelevant as it was changed approximately 3 times between the start and end of this story. But I'll put it at the end of the story anyways
The bubbles of bright red blood smeared across full lips and he watched, impassive. He’s seen this so many times. Hell, he’s been the one on the floor more often than not. The first wheeze slammed into his ears, louder than a shotgun blast.
Spike turned, his eyes narrow as he tried to place the sound. The weak, watery gurgle repeated, and Spike stared at Angel. His sire, big bad unkillable Angelus, was breathing. His chest, perforated and punctured like a bloody voodoo doll, rose and fell in a rapid tattoo.
Spike dropped to his knees, reaching out to grab the disturbingly still body of his Sire. No. Not his Sire anymore. A human. A dying human and that frightened him.
“Bastard,” he muttered, fingers combing through sweat-soaked hair. “So caught up in your bloody redemption, you forgot about this side of things. Not worth it. Nothing’s worth dying.”
“B-bull…sh-it,” Angel croaked, eyes fluttering open. “You…kn-ow b-better, Spike.”
Spike could only focus on the perfect sheen on the bubbles that formed in the corner of Angel’s mouth. They were so red, the scarlet of roses or the crimson of strawberries. That kind of deep, rich tone only found in nature and it called to him; a siren song of temptation that he found damn near irresistible even after all this time.
“Yeah.” Spike nodded once, resignation settling on his features. “Reckon I do at that. Died myself once or twice, didn’t I? Saved the world and all that.”
Angel’s eyes were closed, but his head jerked once. The brief motion could have been accidental, a random neuron firing as Death crept up to claim his prize. But there was no death rattle and Angel’s heart still beat like a drum under Spike’s hand. A soundless heart; somehow more disturbing than the newly-human vampire who carried.
“I do know,” Spike finally said, his face contorting. “ ‘S why I’m going to be sorry about this when you’re back.”
Angel shivered when the razor-edged fangs sliced into his neck. He’d lost too much blood to fight back, and his weak voice was a feeble weapon against the determination of a grieving vampire. As powerful blood teased the edges of his dull senses, he latched onto the cool skin, suckling strongly.
Spike screwed his eyes shut, tightening his grip on Angel’s hair. He felt his blood being pulled from his body, the thin trickle feeding into the body in his arms. His hips rocked upward and he groaned desperately. The vigorous suction, the softly demanding tongue sweeping across his skin, these were a new form of erotic torture. All he could think of was burying himself inside his new Childe.
“Fuck!” he moaned hoarsely, his cock twitching and jerking out his orgasm.
It was only later, as he scouted and secured a quiet location out of the way of the demons and frightened humans that populated this hellish version of L.A., that Spike realized he’d just sired Angelus. He was a Sire now. With all a Sire’s rights and privileges. A wicked grin spread slowly across his face as he pictured himself balls deep inside the firm body of his Childe.
William the Bloody, Sire to Angelus, the Scourge of Europe. Had an almost poetical ring to it.
Part 2
cya_ficathon assignment is finally complete: Pairing: Spike/Angel(us)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: William the Bloody, Sire to Angelus, the Scourge of Europe. Had an almost poetical ring to it.
A/N: Written for the
cya_ficathon using tamingthemuse prompt #103-temptation. Beta'ed by my very best girl kidcyclone and written for her, as well. Original assignment is...well, irrelevant as it was changed approximately 3 times between the start and end of this story. But I'll put it at the end of the story anywaysThe bubbles of bright red blood smeared across full lips and he watched, impassive. He’s seen this so many times. Hell, he’s been the one on the floor more often than not. The first wheeze slammed into his ears, louder than a shotgun blast.
Spike turned, his eyes narrow as he tried to place the sound. The weak, watery gurgle repeated, and Spike stared at Angel. His sire, big bad unkillable Angelus, was breathing. His chest, perforated and punctured like a bloody voodoo doll, rose and fell in a rapid tattoo.
Spike dropped to his knees, reaching out to grab the disturbingly still body of his Sire. No. Not his Sire anymore. A human. A dying human and that frightened him.
“Bastard,” he muttered, fingers combing through sweat-soaked hair. “So caught up in your bloody redemption, you forgot about this side of things. Not worth it. Nothing’s worth dying.”
“B-bull…sh-it,” Angel croaked, eyes fluttering open. “You…kn-ow b-better, Spike.”
Spike could only focus on the perfect sheen on the bubbles that formed in the corner of Angel’s mouth. They were so red, the scarlet of roses or the crimson of strawberries. That kind of deep, rich tone only found in nature and it called to him; a siren song of temptation that he found damn near irresistible even after all this time.
“Yeah.” Spike nodded once, resignation settling on his features. “Reckon I do at that. Died myself once or twice, didn’t I? Saved the world and all that.”
Angel’s eyes were closed, but his head jerked once. The brief motion could have been accidental, a random neuron firing as Death crept up to claim his prize. But there was no death rattle and Angel’s heart still beat like a drum under Spike’s hand. A soundless heart; somehow more disturbing than the newly-human vampire who carried.
“I do know,” Spike finally said, his face contorting. “ ‘S why I’m going to be sorry about this when you’re back.”
Angel shivered when the razor-edged fangs sliced into his neck. He’d lost too much blood to fight back, and his weak voice was a feeble weapon against the determination of a grieving vampire. As powerful blood teased the edges of his dull senses, he latched onto the cool skin, suckling strongly.
Spike screwed his eyes shut, tightening his grip on Angel’s hair. He felt his blood being pulled from his body, the thin trickle feeding into the body in his arms. His hips rocked upward and he groaned desperately. The vigorous suction, the softly demanding tongue sweeping across his skin, these were a new form of erotic torture. All he could think of was burying himself inside his new Childe.
“Fuck!” he moaned hoarsely, his cock twitching and jerking out his orgasm.
It was only later, as he scouted and secured a quiet location out of the way of the demons and frightened humans that populated this hellish version of L.A., that Spike realized he’d just sired Angelus. He was a Sire now. With all a Sire’s rights and privileges. A wicked grin spread slowly across his face as he pictured himself balls deep inside the firm body of his Childe.
William the Bloody, Sire to Angelus, the Scourge of Europe. Had an almost poetical ring to it.
Part 2