"Harry's AAA"
You absolutely cannot beat Harry's AAA Adult Entertainment for Earthbound facsimiles of Heaven. At least, for a bloke.
Okay, at least for a bloke like *me*.
Harry, of course, would be this particular Heaven's Lord and Master. I
See, what Harry's created here at the corner of West Broad and Titherington is a damn temple of everything carnal. Every possible way to get your knackers off, all under one roof.
He's got the sex toys. And I mean *SEX* *TOYS*. Everything from latex
Been coming to old Harry's a lot, since I moved in with me old Sire. See,
Today is my birthday. Or, rather, my un-birthday, I guess. 140 years since
So... I figure he owes me a prezzie.
I started my "Angel-Sponsored-Trip-To-Harry's" Campaign by getting him to promise to take me out. Fairly simple task... just played the trusty old guilt card. Said considering he murdered me in cold blood and turned me into a monster and all, the least he could do was take me out for my un-birthday.
Naturally, he scowled and brooded and apologized like he always does -- which I could give a shit about-- and then did the important thing, that I
He gave in and agreed. "Fine, Spike. I'll take you out for your
See, Angel doesn't get the fun in celebrating the day he became a vampire.
Fucker thinks it was the worst day of his life... whereas me, I figure, I
"Anywhere?" I ask him. Gotta get it said explicitly, so there's no backing
That little worry line creases his supposedly ageless forehead. "Yes...
He thinks he knows me so damn well.
So I get him into the car, and we drive according to my directions. When we pull up outside the ratty building Harry's is housed in, Angel sits there for a long time, just staring up at the sign. By the look on his face,
Sheer, horrified disbelief.
"This... this is..." he stutters.
"Harry's Triple A," I tell him, pointing up at the sign, "It's even in
He blinks once, slow. That's how he reacts to a lot of things I do. I'm
"It's an... adult store," he observes, all disgusted, like you can buy dead
Which you can't, I swear. I'm no pervert... Okay, so... I'm no damn
"Smut emporium," I correct him, and jump out of the car. I've already got
"Come on, tosser! You promised!" I whine, like a kid going to Chuck E.
I can see his big monobrow scrunching from here.
"I'm not going in there," he mutters under his non-breath.
Naturally, I'm a predator, so I can hear him.
"You mean to tell me, 150 years of eating raw baby entrails and raping
His frown turns into a glare. That's his "Oh, thank you, Childe, for
He's still not getting out, though. Guess it's time for Plan B.
"And speaking of rape and horrible murder... There once was a handsome young devil named William..." I say... loudly.
Oh, shit. He's out of the car and has his hand clamped over my mouth in
"Spike!" he hisses, "Is it *really* necessary to regale the general public
He thinks he's so damn witty.
"Gotcha over here, didn't I?" I mumble into his big meat flank hand.
And... there's the murderous scowl again. My most reverend sire is nothing if not completely predictable.
"Let's just get this over with," he grumbles, and jerks the door open for
I dance through with a grin, and I swear I hear a choir of Angels singing as I enter. Angels who sing a whole Hell of a lot better than the big lump of brooding suicidal depression behind me. He's slouching harder than usual, like he's trying to disappear before he sees anybody he knows.
Which is more likely than you might imagine. I've seen Weasley here.
Ah... Heaven, how I've missed you since Tuesday. It's Spike's bloody
Angel hangs back with this pained look, like we're in Cross-O-Rama or
"Hey, Spike! How's it hanging?" Harry calls from behind the caged checkout counter.
I raise a hand to God in greeting. "Two feet to the left, Harry! How's
"Fat and ugly. We got the new Sandy Sands video in yesterday. Tres juicy, my brother. Girl on girl action like you wouldn't believe in this one!"
Angel leans in close to me. "You're on a first name basis with the filth
I shoot him a look. Wow. Even I didn't think he was *that* much of a
"And you're surprised by this?" I ask him, then make a beeline for the new release videos.
He shuffles along behind me, not letting his eyes move from the floor.
"Come on," I say, giving him a little shove, "You used to love porn.
He gives me his 'I have the patience of a saint not to dust you, whelp'
Touché. I shrug and turn back to the shelf, perusing all the yummies that
Harry is the master of obscenity. He's got it all -- fat chicks, chicks on
I pick up a new flick with an colossally endowed, brooding bugger with dark hair and Cro-Magnon forehead spanking his monster wank on the cover.
"Hey, Angelus! You got a side gig you didn't tell me about?" I holler,
Swear to God, he ducks behind the shelves and scoots away like he doesn't even know me. I laugh and crouch down, hunting him like I'm about to make him dinner... which, in a way, I will, later. When I catch up with him, he's upright again, staring at a shelf in front of him. I peek around the Hot Lube endcap--grabbing a bottle of Spicy Cinnamon as I do--and check out what he's staring so hard at.
Fuck dolls.
I bust out laughing, totally ruining the element of surprise.
"I knew you were there," he mutters, shootin' me a glare out of the corner of his eye.
Still laughing, I park it beside him, and nod to a box with a cute little
"Missin' Slutty?" I ask...
And run. I always get a good cuffing when I bring up She Who Shall Not Be Named.
He's behind me for a moment, but then he stops. I turn back and find him
Bondage toys. Big fucking surprise, there.
"Need me to explain anything to ya?" I ask him.
Angel pulls something off the rack and turns to look at me, now wearing this nasty smirk that brings to mind long, lazy nights of branding irons, whips, chains, blood and screaming.
"Boy... I know more about this stuff than you've even *dreamed* of. Now go away while I pick out a suitable present for you."
Ouch. I stare at him. First off, he looks damn happy, which almost always
"You're gonna get me bondage crap for my un-birthday? That's real romantic.
Doncha think I got enough of that when you were whelping me?"
"Liked the fuck-doll idea better," I go on, "'Course, we could just invite
Angel's still fingering the mild torture implements lovingly, and doesn't
Oh well. I sigh. Poor bastard's gotta get his jollies somehow, I guess. I
I take my time, finish up my choices, and make tracks to the checkout.
Hm.
I spill my stuff on the counter, and Angel gets his 'Jesus Christ, my wallet
I gotta admit, it's a record-breaking grab, even for me. Four videos, six
Even Harry looks impressed. "Wow, Spike. Nice pull this week."
I grin at him. "'Smy birthday."
"Oh yeah? Hey! Happy birthday, buddy!" He throws one of those giveaway flavored condoms into the pile, then looks at Angel, "I take it you're the Sugar Daddy."
Angel clutches his big bag-o-kink with one hand, and reaches for his wallet with the other, grumbling something only I can make out about "I'll show you Sugar Daddy, when we get home," and asking himself why didn't he just drain me dry and dump me in the alley like he usually did, "damn Irish Whiskey," and slaps the old Visa on the counter.
'S all I can do not to jump up and down. Let 'im grumble. He's still
* * *
It's late when we get back to the hotel -- close to ten, in fact. But the
I trot right over to the counter. "Sod-off, losers."
They both look up, startled for a moment, but then give me matching, 'Oh, yay, it's Spike' looks. Bet they wouldn't look at me like that if I played
Angel walks up behind me and clamps a big meat-vice hand on the back of my neck.
"Why don't you guys take the rest of the night off?" he translates.
That's what I just effin' said! Of course, hearing it from 'I've got a lot
"What? Why?" Cordelia yelps, but you better believe she's up outta the chair and getting her sweater on as she yelps it.
"Got things to do," I explain, "It's my un-birthday. And thanks for the
She sneers at me. "Whatever. No, really, Angel, what's up?"
He squeezes my neck harder, a clear, 'shut up, boy' signal. He's being even rougher than usual, which gets me to wondering what he's got in that damn bag.
"Spike and I would like to spend some time alone, and I think that you two deserve a nice evening. Take some money from the drawer. Do something fun. On me."
I resist the urge to share one of the 6000 snappy one-liners that pop into
Wesley gives us a knowing little grin. Wonder what flavor his edible undies are today. "That's very generous, Angel. Thank you."
My Sire smiles, all benevolent-like. If only they knew. "My pleasure. You
Cordelia eyes our bags suspiciously. "You went shopping?"
That would be my cue to gross her out before Angel gets a chance to excuse them as, "Groceries." I yank out "Hard and Horny, the Movie, Part XI" and flash it at her. "Harry's Triple A. Ever been?" I direct the last at
"OH MY GOD YOU GUYS ARE SO *SICK*!" Cordelia cries, "I can't BELIEVE I not only work for a *vampire*, but a gay PERVERT vampire!" She stomps out, muttering "only in LA" as she does.
Have a nice night, Miss SunnyHole. Hope you get eaten by Marrow-sucking demons.
Wussley comes around the counter, pulling on his coat. "Well. Happy, er... un-birthday, Spike. Enjoy your evening," he says, and follows her.
"Fuck you, too, Pussley!" I shout after him.
The hand on my neck squeezes even harder.
"Ow, ya wank! That hurts!" I bark at him.
His cool breath tickles the little hairs on the edge of my ear.
"Time to open your presents, boy..." he purrs, and starts pushing me toward the stairs.
Damn if I'm not instantly rock hard. Happy effin' un-birthday, to me, baby!
* * *
So... the first thing he does when we get to the bedroom is handcuff and
Now... if you're a vampire, getting blindfolded's like having somebody turn the world up to 20 -- already sharp sounds get skull-ringing loud, and you can smell a paper cut on a guy two blocks off. Needless to say, this particular honing of my hunter's senses is enough to make me come right on the spot. "Oversensitive" don't even begin to cover it.
But sensory deprivation has its downside, too. I'm highly damn visual, and not being able to see what the fuck's going on as I listen to him shuffling around the room makes me want to rip his Jose Eber head off. I hear rustling and clicking, rattling and paper tearing, and GODDAMN IT I CAN'T FIGURE OUT WHAT THE HELL IT ALL MEANS!
Of course, Angel knows this about me, and since this is *my* night, the
Him smooching my face off is just... damn erotic. Part of what I like about
That's o-kay by me.
Another plus -- most nights, I can actually *walk* after sex, which is
So as he's kissing me, he starts getting me naked. That's slow, too... he
Did I mention Angel's also a maestro cock tease? Got me all whimperin' and beggin' like a biddy baby, he does. Then he takes me by the arm and leads me across the room over to what I assume's the bed, and stands me still again.
"Don't move until I tell you," he commands, his voice only half-human and sort of grumbly. Tells me he's enjoying this as much as I am...which is a whole damn lot.
Then with the noises again. Clink, rustle-rustle, clink. I can't take much
He undoes the handcuffs, but whacks my hand with something... a belt,
"Not yet. Patience, boy," he says, all soft-like. And I'll tell you
Then I hear the bed creak... his weight settling down on it, I guess.
Oh... boy.
"Okay. Take the blindfold off," he orders me.
I've ripped the damn thing from my face before the last word's even out of his mouth, and...
Holy... Mother of Christ on a Ritz. I swear, I almost fall over.
Fucker's chained himself to the bed! No shit! And laid out all nice as you
And, you'd think I'd be diving for the chance to flail the bastard ragged,
Now look at him! And I mean... Look. At. Him. 225, chisel-cut pounds of
So what do I do? Stand there and fucking gape at him like a moron, that's what. His smile fades a bit.
"Something wrong?" he asks, looking a little worried.
Something WRONG? Fucker turns the world upside down, and wants to know if something's WRONG? Fuck yes! And... Fuck no. This little scene is totally confusing, which is why I'm standing here pissing myself (not literally) instead of jumping all over his ass.
"What the Hell's this all about, then?" I yip like a little puppy. I mean,
"It's your deathday. I thought you might..." He shrugs as he trails off,
Well, FUCK ME! Goddamn martyr bastard! This is supposed to be a damn celebration, not a public flogging for his crimes!
Yeah, I'm upset! And you better bloody well believe I'm upset that I'm
"You've gotta be fucking kidding me!" I screech at him, "What the fuck is
He flinches like I hit him, and before I know it, my hard-on's history, and
"Will... I'm sorry. I didn't... I just... I thought you'd enjoy it."
Sometimes I wonder who's really the brains in this outfit. Popular opinion says it's him, what... because he reads all the damn time and can quote poetry? Big effin' whoop. Popular opinion obviously never spent a whole lot of time with him, 'cause the fucker's got the common sense of a big pile of rocks.
"Well... yeah! I mean... I might, if you didn't..." I wave my hand up and
Weren't what, Willie boy? I can't explain why I'm so pissed. I mean... he's
All of sudden, standing there, looking down at him and his hang-dog look, I get this rush of something going through me. It's not anger so much anymore... definitely not violence. Not even lust, I don't think, even
I'm in love with the bastard. That's no secret, I guess. Three years,
I remember the night I died with a lot of damn pleasure, thank you very
And now he wants me to *punish* him for it. You're damn right, it pisses me off, because it reminds me that if he had it to do over again (and had his poncy damn soul), I wouldn't be standing here right now. It reminds me that he regrets I exist.
But then... on the other hand, it tells me something else, too, I guess.
Something I'm a lot more interested in knowing. Tells me that Angel cares about me, no matter how much he bitches and whines about my behavior, my attitude, my mouth, my hygiene, my drinking, my housecleaning skills (or lack thereof), and pretty much everything else. It tells me that he cares about me enough to set his own damn precious pride aside and give me a chance to express to him how I *really* feel about his gift of eternal life.
He wants me to tell him how I feel about him being my Sire. Bugger just
Maybe he'd beat the shit out of Darla if he was standing where I am, and it was her chained to the bed. But I ain't him. And I don't regret a damn
But I'm not gonna tell him that. I'm not the romantic idiot in this pair.
William the Damn Bloody is a demon of Action. He didn't ask with words, so I'm sure as Hell not gonna answer him that way.
I kneel down on the bed beside him, and let my eyes wander from his chained feet, up over his perfectly sculptured legs, to his still semi-hard cock (apparently, me pitching a fit isn't enough to overcome his lust for getting chained up), over that six-pack stomach, the bulging pecs, Mack truck shoulders, corded neck, and finally coming to rest on that gawd-awfully magnificent fucking angel's face. His eyes are all watery and soulful (when aren't they? I mean... when we're not ruttin' like dogs, that is...), full of all kinds of therapy-ratin' stuff... hurt and love, confusion and lust.
Poor bastard don't know what he's doing any better than I do.
No. You know what? Scratch that last bit. And sod this "Dawson's Creek
I'm about to shag the Hell out of the hottest damn... *anything* on the face of the planet! And I mean... NOW.
He wants torture, right? And I gotta get him out of brooding mode,
"Not much in the mood for whips and such, mate..." I tell him, reaching for the blindfold from where I dropped it on the floor.
He starts a little, like he wasn't expecting me to say that... which I'm
"Spike... you can undo the manacles, if you want," he tells me.
I grin at him. "Didn't say I wasn't in the mood for bondage, did I?" I
His face freezes for a second, like all ten of his trademark expressions are battling over which one's gonna surface.
Then... he smiles. My friends, that bloody smile is more than enough to
Love that damn sound, I do. Dream about it sometimes. Get to feeling like
Fuck me... I've never been hot for another creature like I am for my Sire.
The skin in the hollows of his hipbones is cool and soft like silk stretched over bone, and tastes sort of salty sweet as I lick him like a damn flesh lollipop. Every inch of him is hard as bloody stone, especially his cock.
Not that I've had a whole lot of blokes naked like this, mind you, but I've
I discover pretty quick that I like him helpless. I'm sorry we've been
Power is one sweet aphrodisiac. No wonder my Sire's always been so damn cranked for it.
I take my time, now. Never quite increase the pace or pressure of the blow enough to send him over, and he starts giving off his little 'shit, I'm
My favorite part, of course, is the crescendo. When Angel comes, he either screams at the top of his lungs like somebody's torturing him, howls like an enraged animal, or lets out a string of curse words mixed up with some variation of my name... a stream of climatic filth fit to make the gruffest old sailor blush.
But this is *my* un-birthday. And it *is* torture, so when I feel his cock
I stop and pull away.
"Nooooo... Please, Spike. Please. Don't stop. Don't..."
I grin to myself. Now *that's* a nice fucking song.
Now, I'm not usually much known for my patience. And frankly, getting my Sire into this sort of frenzied state has my damn grunties in an ache and twitch all their own. I need to get things speedin' along, here. I lean
Grape. My favorite.
I squeeze some of the Hot Lube out on my hands and rub them together until they're good and hot, then slowly slip a finger between his tight cheeks, sliding the single digit up and down until his crack is warm and slick.
Which particular action gets me a, "Ohhhh... my... Gaaaaaaaaaahd...."
Like that one, too. Regular dirty noise makin' machine, is my Sire. He's
Even bloody luckier that I came along to help him out with that.
So I rim his puckered hole softly with tiny circles that I know drive him
More little fingertip circles around his anus. The muscles of his arse
"Whatsamatter, Sire?" I purr at him.
"Please, Spike... please," he moans.
Yeah, that's right. *Beg me.*
"Please what?" I edge just the tip of my finger into that vice grip ring of
"Yes. That. More."
I slide the finger in up to the second knuckle... and wiggle it.
"More of this?"
"GOD, YES!"
He's being a good boy, what with all the begging, so I give him a little
Damn yummy, Angel's arse.
Now he's just sort of rumbling and purring and making little baby grunty
I like the words, myself. So I stop.
"Spiiiiiiike..." he whines desperately.
E-fucking-gads, that whine... if we were anywhere else but in bed, I'd
"Yes, Sire?"
You know, a cock ring would be handy right about now. Too bad neither of us thought to grab one. I don't see how he's gonna last much longer.
Now that I think about it... I might need one, too.
"I want you," he gasps, "Inside me. Please."
Oh, boy. Yeah, I want inside him, too. But I hold back... he wanted me to
"Now?" I ask him, and try not to chuckle at the frustrated moan that
"NOW, BOY! NOW!" he barks, trying to be all Master-like. Which is pretty
"Hm. You know, Peaches, I didn't hear any magic words, that time."
"Please," he hisses between clenched teeth, "Please!"
'Course, while I'm making him beg, I'm already lubing up me old Little
You know, I wonder if he'd bite it off if I called him boy and ordered him
GOOD GODS his mouth is fucking amazing! He seals his lips tight around my girth, and does little tongue lashes all around, lapping off the grape goop as I thrust into his face.
My Sire could made a damn fortune giving head, if it wasn't for all that
Part of me hates to end this particular part of the adventure, but my balls
Angel cries out and arches right into it as I start a nice, steady rhythm,
I wish we had a camera... one of those digital things with a timer...
Which, of course, I am.
Ah, fuck me, he's so good. So... ohchrist good. I get down on my hands and knees (God bless the misposish!), and claim his mouth as I hammer him, his cock now pressed tight between our stomachs.
Angel pulls away from my mouth, and his face contorts like he's in absolute agony... bites clear through his lip, and... jesusgods, he's so fucking beautiful! I slam into him, and his big, sumptuous body goes totally taut, bowing and arching up off the mattress, and he starts screaming, ramming his hips up into me, and sod-all, that's game, set and match for old Will, kids.
I start pounding, jerking and pulsing in his tight passage, feel his cum
Sigh. Happy bloody un-freakin'-birthday, Will.
I don't pull out right off, but lie down on top of his enormous bulk,
Finally, I tug off the blindfold so I can see what's going on in those
"Spike..." he says softly.
Oh, fuck-all, if he starts with the fluffy-mushy crap, I really *will* beat
"Yeah?" I nuzzle his neck. He nips my ear. All comfy-cozy, us... 'cept for
"I am glad, you know. I may not always show it, but... I'm glad I made
I slap my hand over his mouth before he can go any further and I'm forced to puke. "That's enough. I shag you into bliss and keep you from turnin' into a psycho loony, and you like that. Got it."
With my hand over his gob, all I can see is his eyes smiling. It's enough,
I let go of his face.
"Happy un-birthday, Spike," he whispers with a little Angel-half-grin.
I feel his rod start stirrin' against my belly, and grin back at him.
"Thanks for killing me, ya bastard," I say, and kiss him.
God bless Harry's Triple A.
~FINIS~