Turnabout (2/2)
Jul. 12th, 2008 08:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sevendeadlyfunPairing: Spike/Angelus
Rating: NC-17
Summary: William the Bloody, Sire to Angelus, the Scourge of Europe. Had an almost poetical ring to it.
A/N: Part 2 of my![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
cya_ficathon. Original (and highly irrelevant) assignment at the bottom.
Formless entities do not kick or scream. But the being known as Angelus had fought desperately to retain his physical form. Still there is seldom any point in fighting Fate. She always fights dirty and a metaphysical shank can do some serious damage.
He did miss his body, though. The texture of silk under his hands as he fucked, the satiny smoothness of blood pouring down his throat, the rich tenor of a scream when a bone was broken in just the right place; they almost made up for being walled inside a dead shell. Nothing in Hell could match the pleasures of the flesh.
The first instinctive gasp broke his concentration.
He sat up, trying to adjust to sensation of being physical once more. He brought his hands up to his face, rotating them as he examined his new body. As he inspected his new body, he felt a slight internal itch. Turning his attention inward, the familiarity of the odd sensation grew and the dregs of his soul slithered away.
He smiled, a lazy hateful smile that shot pinpoints of light into his eyes. He was Angelus again, sole proprietor of his own form and face for the first time in over a hundred years. No soul to weigh him down, no more battles to fight. He was free.
“Awfully chipper for dead man.” A voice interrupted his thoughts.
“Suppose I have you thank for that?” He asked sweetly, tempting the voice closer.
“Think I’d let anyone else lay a fang on you,” Spike answered, coming to crouch beside him. “Got your sea legs yet?”
Angelus nodded, struggling to keep the laughter off his face. Poor Spike. Poor soulled, regretful lad with his worries and his affection and looking like such a tasty morsel.
“ ‘M sorry,” Spike said to him and there was the remorse, a beacon bright enough for even a fool to follow. “I couldn’t watch you die. Not like that, bleeding your guts out in some shithole corner of a hell dimension.”
Angelus’ arm snaked out, wrapping around the white, slender neck. He ignored the kicks and wheezed curses as he pulled the younger man against his nude body. A swift, firm shake subdued the struggling vampire and allowed Angelus a moment to revel in the slim body pressed tightly against him.
“I know,” Angelus hissed, “that your pathetic conscience must be getting in the way of what little sense you possess. But having a soul doesn’t offer you an automatic excuse to be a moron.”
Spike stared at him, eyes hazy. A sluggish line of blood trickled down his temple. Angelus grinned, his unholy enjoyment setting his face alight. A bit of a bump on the head might not jar that soul loose, but at least it would keep Spike from fighting back right away.
Angelus licked up the side of Spike’s face, a broad stripe that wholly erased the thin trickle of blood. It rested on his tongue, the thick, rich flavor of family blood exciting all of his appetites. Ridges and fangs sprang forward instinctively, a response to his growing desire.
He struck quickly, face buried in the crook of that soft, white neck. The answering howl curled in his belly and stiffened his cock. The thick blood, his first real meal since rising, flowed through him, strengthened him.
Angelus felt Spike stop struggling, the body in his arms grown lax and limp. He eased back, lapping carefully at the twin puncture marks. With careful and efficient hands, he quickly stripped the clothes from the other man.
“Poor lad,” he said, hands straying to the firm prick pressed against Spike’s flat belly. “All these years alone with no family. How you must have suffered. Well, I’m back and I’ll make it up to you. We’ll rule this hell together and make every demon fear our names.”
Spike’s eyes fluttered open, a weak smirk arcing and disappearing like lightening. He tried, and failed, to raise his hands. Angelus batted down the weak, flailing hands and rearranged Spike, laying him on his stomach.
His hands brushed lightly over the round cheeks. Marking them and marring their perfection would be almost criminal. Almost.
The first blows barely pinked Spike’s creamy flesh. Angelus savored each smack, relishing the accompanying tingles in his own hand. He hadn’t experienced this sublime pleasure in far too long.
As the spanking continued, he increased the force of his swats. Spike’s ass turned first rosy red, then a deep brick. The blows called the blood to the surface and warmed cool, undead skin. Angelus finally stopped and just placed a hand on the heated flesh.
“S’pose this is the part where you bugger me senseless.”
Angelus jumped, startled by the dozy voice.
“Well,” Spike continued lazily. “Are you or aren’t you?”
“You’re telling me you want this?” Angelus struggled to keep the disbelief from his voice. “You, the new Vampire With A Soul, Mankind’s Champion, blah blah blah?”
“Maybe not forever,” Spike admitted. “Maybe tomorrow I’ll regret this whole bloody mess and we’ll be fighting to the death. But, right now? Yeah, I want it. You. This.”
Angelus slithered up the body splayed out before him, erect cock and full balls brushing lightly over the sore and bruised flesh of Spike’s ass. Spike winced, body tightening against the sparks of pain shooting through his body. The first gentle kiss on the back of his neck, the first soft stroke of familiar hands and he sighed, pushing back into the caresses.
“Ssh,” Angelus said quietly. “I’ve got you. Daddy’s here, baby boy.”
A sick thrill choked him, and Spike could only nod, his face buried in his folded arms. This was wrong, no two ways about it. Yet he pushed himself up and canted his hips to give Angelus’ spit-soaked fingers better access.
“Thought this’d be the other way ‘round,” he admitted in a whisper. “Thought I’d be the Sire this time.”
“Oh, Spike.” Angelus sighed, pushing into Spike’s hastily prepared channel. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Original Assignment: I'd like a fic with the Fanged Four (pairing being Angelus/Spike) set in the early 1880's and focusing on Angelus being pleased with some accomplishment of Spike, and taking him out for a treat. As you can see, the assignment morphed a bit.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: William the Bloody, Sire to Angelus, the Scourge of Europe. Had an almost poetical ring to it.
A/N: Part 2 of my
cya_ficathon. Original (and highly irrelevant) assignment at the bottom.Formless entities do not kick or scream. But the being known as Angelus had fought desperately to retain his physical form. Still there is seldom any point in fighting Fate. She always fights dirty and a metaphysical shank can do some serious damage.
He did miss his body, though. The texture of silk under his hands as he fucked, the satiny smoothness of blood pouring down his throat, the rich tenor of a scream when a bone was broken in just the right place; they almost made up for being walled inside a dead shell. Nothing in Hell could match the pleasures of the flesh.
The first instinctive gasp broke his concentration.
He sat up, trying to adjust to sensation of being physical once more. He brought his hands up to his face, rotating them as he examined his new body. As he inspected his new body, he felt a slight internal itch. Turning his attention inward, the familiarity of the odd sensation grew and the dregs of his soul slithered away.
He smiled, a lazy hateful smile that shot pinpoints of light into his eyes. He was Angelus again, sole proprietor of his own form and face for the first time in over a hundred years. No soul to weigh him down, no more battles to fight. He was free.
“Awfully chipper for dead man.” A voice interrupted his thoughts.
“Suppose I have you thank for that?” He asked sweetly, tempting the voice closer.
“Think I’d let anyone else lay a fang on you,” Spike answered, coming to crouch beside him. “Got your sea legs yet?”
Angelus nodded, struggling to keep the laughter off his face. Poor Spike. Poor soulled, regretful lad with his worries and his affection and looking like such a tasty morsel.
“ ‘M sorry,” Spike said to him and there was the remorse, a beacon bright enough for even a fool to follow. “I couldn’t watch you die. Not like that, bleeding your guts out in some shithole corner of a hell dimension.”
Angelus’ arm snaked out, wrapping around the white, slender neck. He ignored the kicks and wheezed curses as he pulled the younger man against his nude body. A swift, firm shake subdued the struggling vampire and allowed Angelus a moment to revel in the slim body pressed tightly against him.
“I know,” Angelus hissed, “that your pathetic conscience must be getting in the way of what little sense you possess. But having a soul doesn’t offer you an automatic excuse to be a moron.”
Spike stared at him, eyes hazy. A sluggish line of blood trickled down his temple. Angelus grinned, his unholy enjoyment setting his face alight. A bit of a bump on the head might not jar that soul loose, but at least it would keep Spike from fighting back right away.
Angelus licked up the side of Spike’s face, a broad stripe that wholly erased the thin trickle of blood. It rested on his tongue, the thick, rich flavor of family blood exciting all of his appetites. Ridges and fangs sprang forward instinctively, a response to his growing desire.
He struck quickly, face buried in the crook of that soft, white neck. The answering howl curled in his belly and stiffened his cock. The thick blood, his first real meal since rising, flowed through him, strengthened him.
Angelus felt Spike stop struggling, the body in his arms grown lax and limp. He eased back, lapping carefully at the twin puncture marks. With careful and efficient hands, he quickly stripped the clothes from the other man.
“Poor lad,” he said, hands straying to the firm prick pressed against Spike’s flat belly. “All these years alone with no family. How you must have suffered. Well, I’m back and I’ll make it up to you. We’ll rule this hell together and make every demon fear our names.”
Spike’s eyes fluttered open, a weak smirk arcing and disappearing like lightening. He tried, and failed, to raise his hands. Angelus batted down the weak, flailing hands and rearranged Spike, laying him on his stomach.
His hands brushed lightly over the round cheeks. Marking them and marring their perfection would be almost criminal. Almost.
The first blows barely pinked Spike’s creamy flesh. Angelus savored each smack, relishing the accompanying tingles in his own hand. He hadn’t experienced this sublime pleasure in far too long.
As the spanking continued, he increased the force of his swats. Spike’s ass turned first rosy red, then a deep brick. The blows called the blood to the surface and warmed cool, undead skin. Angelus finally stopped and just placed a hand on the heated flesh.
“S’pose this is the part where you bugger me senseless.”
Angelus jumped, startled by the dozy voice.
“Well,” Spike continued lazily. “Are you or aren’t you?”
“You’re telling me you want this?” Angelus struggled to keep the disbelief from his voice. “You, the new Vampire With A Soul, Mankind’s Champion, blah blah blah?”
“Maybe not forever,” Spike admitted. “Maybe tomorrow I’ll regret this whole bloody mess and we’ll be fighting to the death. But, right now? Yeah, I want it. You. This.”
Angelus slithered up the body splayed out before him, erect cock and full balls brushing lightly over the sore and bruised flesh of Spike’s ass. Spike winced, body tightening against the sparks of pain shooting through his body. The first gentle kiss on the back of his neck, the first soft stroke of familiar hands and he sighed, pushing back into the caresses.
“Ssh,” Angelus said quietly. “I’ve got you. Daddy’s here, baby boy.”
A sick thrill choked him, and Spike could only nod, his face buried in his folded arms. This was wrong, no two ways about it. Yet he pushed himself up and canted his hips to give Angelus’ spit-soaked fingers better access.
“Thought this’d be the other way ‘round,” he admitted in a whisper. “Thought I’d be the Sire this time.”
“Oh, Spike.” Angelus sighed, pushing into Spike’s hastily prepared channel. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Original Assignment: I'd like a fic with the Fanged Four (pairing being Angelus/Spike) set in the early 1880's and focusing on Angelus being pleased with some accomplishment of Spike, and taking him out for a treat. As you can see, the assignment morphed a bit.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
on 2008-07-14 07:13 pm (UTC)