Title: Once a Yoko
Once a Yoko
Spike entered his crypt with an air of satisfaction he had not felt in months. The bloody chip had taken away most of his leisure time activities, leaving life less than the thrill it had been for the last century or so. Stirring the Scoobies until boiling had been the highlight of his day, to say the least and convincing them that the others were out to get them had been a blooming hoot. Watching the little witches toy with each otherís hair had been a perk as well, that bit had been much more fun than watching Harris squirm in his overactive pants while he ranted about the army and Starbucks or something. Spike had been much more interested in his girlfriend, every time he met her she smelled of sex. It reminded him of Drusilla, although Dru never smelled like the same partner twice, Anya was nothing if not consistent.
He was ready for a drink, the couple of beers he'd had on the way to Adamís little demon YMCA hadn't been nearly enough. He needed a good drink, something decidedly un-Irish. Maybe scotch. Spike rummaged through a cupboard, well the only cupboard he had actually, and managed to find a bottle of Glenmorangie. It was emptier than he remembered, but that tends to happen when you never use a glass, and drank to forget.
He'd be damned glad when this whole affair was over, he'd kill the slayerettes, take their money, raid their fridges and unlive happily ever after. It was quite the plan. Not that it would work, he wasn't so daft as to not know that, but it would be fun watching the carnage before Buffy inevitably kicked Adamís demon-quilted ass.
Grabbing the bottle and swearing to himself for not getting a TV yet, Spike plopped down on the beaten velvet chair and took a swig of the scotch.
"You would think after a hundred and twenty years on this planet, someone would have taught you how to drink scotch with some measure of decorum."
Spike jumped out of his seat and turned towards the voice.
"Fucking Angelus! You know, you could give someone a heart attack with that sneaky as a pile of shit crap!"
"Your heart doesn't beat, boy." Angel regarded his grandchilde with a slightly tilted head and took a step forward. "Spike, where have you been? I've come all the way from LA to see you and you weren't home." Angel laughed as he said the word home, tossing a glance around the dusty crypt.
"Sod off, you came to see the bint, not me you wanker." Spike took a small step back and sat back down in the chair. "Heard you had a bit of slayer double trouble back home, looks like they gave you a bit of a tumble to boot. Lucky you."
Angel touched the cut on his forehead and grabbed the bottle of scotch from Spikeís hand, ignoring his outraged, ďhey.Ē After a momentís searching on the small counter he found a glass that was barely usable and wiped the inside with a discarded shirt from the floor. The liquor poured, Angel took a small sip, letting the burn roll on his tongue before swallowing.
"You know, you keep making obscene tongue gestures like that aní we may have a problem."
"Very funny, Spike." Angel handed the bottle back to Spike and sat down on a crate. "I just saw Buffy, and that idiot she calls a boyfriend."
"Oh you got to meet soldier boy, is that why you look like a night with Darla?" Spike smirked at his own cleverness, once a Yoko, always a Yoko.
"Believe me, Riley," Angel growled at the name, "looks a lot worse than I do."
"Don't give yourself too much credit, Peaches. Heís been tossed around all week, hunting Adam and such."
"I was so busy with the whole Faith situation I didn't really get a chance to ask about ĎAdamí. Whatís the deal?"
"Oh, I get it. You're here to help the ex. Let me tell you a little secret, Pet. She doesn't want your help. You should have seen her the last time you were here. You remember; you were playing cowboys and Indians while I was doing my best impression of a porcupine. She didn't exactly do a dance when donut boy let it slip you were right outside the watcherís pad and didn't come in for a nightcap."
"Since when are you so concerned about what the Slayer wants?" Angel said.
"Since she and her merry gang started keeping me in blood and cigs. Plus Rupert lets me come over and watch Passions. You thought you were lonely, try being a retired librarian."
"I never said I was lonely, Spike." Angel turned his head so Spike couldn't see his eyes darken.
"No, no, course not. You've come to mí crypt just to reminisce about old times. Sure, letís talk about how you took Dru from me, then left her so she could in turn leave me. I come back to Sunnyhell to get a little good old-fashioned revenge and who should I meet? Your ex, pissed off over a one night stand. So I get my ass kicked, and I think you remember the rest of the story, don't you lover?" Spike was no longer smiling, and neither was Angel.
"I remember you chaining me to a ceiling and pretending you were someone. Guess I should have taken the time to re-school you then, shouldn't I."
"Yeah, maybe, but if memory serves, you were too busy taking a stroll on the beach with the charming Miss Summers." Spike took another drink and watched Angelís dark eyes turn golden as he swished it through his mouth like Listerine.
Angel raised his own glass to his lips slowly, calming his demon with a deep draught of the amber liquid. He had come to Spikeís little tomb with a view intent on beating some answers out of him. His interlude with Riley had left Angel lacking and just itching to pummel something, and Spike was as good a something as the next, a familiar target. Besides, Angel had not even begun to pay his childe back for driving a rebar through his chest; his lapdogís tricks had left something to be desired too.
"Spike, tell me about Adam."
"Nasty bloke, got all the vamps Ďround here in quite the flutter. They think heís the great green hope or something. Uniting them and so on."
"And of course my darling childe would have none of that, would you?"
"Me? No, of course not, Angelusí first rule of family relations, Ďno territory can feed more than four vampires for long without raising suspicion among the nativesí." Spike could have recited Angelusí forty-something other rules on family relations as well, but decided better of it.
"Good boy. Why would he want all of the demons working together, whatís in it for him?" Angel leaned back against the wall and thought for a moment.
"Oh, bloody hell, do we have to get so pensive about it? Heís a demon, in fact heís several demons. Who cares what he wants?"
"I care. When I see Buffy beaten and bleeding and glad that she Ďgot awayí. Thatís when I care."
"You know I seem to remember a time when you would have been glad to have seen the slayer bleed. But then you were the first to make her bleed, weren't you. Always did have a thing for virgins."
"Not me, not now." Angel said, casting his eyes to the ground. He did not need Spike seeing the bloodlust he still felt. He had, did, love virgins. One of his favorites was sitting across from him now.
"Not you, like hell. The Scooby gang may buy that whole I'm not Angelus crap, but I don't. Don't you even try to play that game with me. I see it in you every time you look at me. I saw it when I had you in chains and I see it now. Part of you was mad as hell, but part of you loved it, Angel. Part of you was thanking me for reminding you how much you love the pain. I could smell it on you. The warehouse was so filled with the smell of your cock, I could hardly keep myself from bending you over then and there." Spike shifted uncomfortably in the chair trying to hide his arousal.
"You know Spike, no matter how old you get, you never seem to get any smarter, do you." Angel leapt off the crate and rammed his shoulder into Spikeís chest so hard the chair tipped over onto the hard stone of the cryptís floor. Spike rolled over the arm of the chair and tried to get the upper hand, but Angel quickly countered, grabbing his hands and pinning them to the floor.
"Get off me pillock!" Spike yelled, giving Angel a hard thrust with his knee, but only managing to hit the back of Angelís thigh pushing his body forward.
"You never were able to give a straight answer, William." Angel pressed his full weight onto Spikeís chest, drawing a quiet moan from his childe. "I just wanted to know if this demon was going to be something Buffy could handle or if I should stick around and help, and you have to go and be difficult."
"Was I being difficult, Sire? ĎCause I can be easy." Spike gave Angel a smile, wetting his lips with his tongue.
"I have a vague recollection of that." Angel bent his head and licked over the blondeís parted lips. Spike lightly clamped his sireís tongue with his blunt teeth, pulling it further into his cool mouth. Angel did not resist the kiss that Spike pulled him into. The two vampires pressed their bodies together for a moment, feeling each otherís need growing, but Angel broke the kiss.
"Hey, wait a minute," Spike moaned. "Where are you going, isn't this what you came here for."
Angel sat up and answered, "No."
"Bullshit Angel, you know you did. If you hadn't, you would have staked me the second I walked through the door. There have only ever been two things you ever came to me for."
"And what are they, Spike?"
"To fight me, and to fuck William." Spike sat up and kissed Angel again. "You see, Pet, unlike you, I am two people. Two people sharing one body. Beauty of it is, like Janus, only one of them shows at a time. The Scoobies, Dru, all they want is Spike. Spikeís a lot easier to fight, to push down, to treat as your bloody whipping boy. But you, all you've ever wanted was William. Admit it. You came to Sunnydale looking for William. Life in LA isn't all itís cracked up to be. You have your little helper Barbie and another mick to drink your sodding Guinness with, but you don't have me. You don't have me."
"Don't I?" Angel bunched Spikeís shirt up and pulled him into another kiss, undoing his own shirt at the same time. Spike, not sharing his sireís patience, ripped the shirt from his own back and tossed it onto one of the assorted piles that already lined the floor. The larger vampire easily pressed Spike onto the ground, this time leaving his hands free to explore his body. Spike ran cool fingers across Angelís chest, toying with the familiar curves of his abdomen. He leaned his head into Angelís shoulder placing hungry kisses on his collarbone, scraping teeth over the bones and licking at the warm veins that coursed through his otherwise cool skin.
Reaching a hand down to undo Spikeís tight black jeans, Angel was pleased to discover that Spike still hadn't discovered the wonder of undergarments. He stared into the cold blue of his loverís eyes and briefly forgot why he had come here in the first place. All thoughts of Buffy and demons seemed to slip away in those eyes. They dragged him back a full century, to a time when he knew nothing but the joy of the kill, and the ecstasy of family. When Sire and Childe were the most important thing in the world, to a time when the relationships among them were so clearly defined. William would never have dared call him a pillock. He would have bent his ass over the bed and begged for more.
"Come back to me," a voice whispered in his ear.
"I'm here," Angel managed to get out.
"No, you're thinking of William. I can always tell, I dream of that look every night. Itís the last thing I picture before waking up. A look thatís not for me. You try so hard to convince everyone that you are Angel, not Angelus. Yet, you try to keep me the boy I haven't been for a hundred years. Angel, just be with me. Why can't you just be with me?" Spike arched his back sliding his jeans down his hips, kicking off his boots and pulling the constricting pants off the rest of the way. "Just be with me," he whispered.
Angel knew he was right. He wanted William. He did not want to fight, he wanted to be in control, and here was his sweet William offering himself. No. It was Spike. Spike wanted him the same as always. A new hairdo, a new attitude, but the same lust ran through his veins.
Spike was losing patience with his sire. He turned onto his side and undid the buckle on Angelís trousers and started to unbutton them. A quick gesture stopped him. He was pressed onto his back once more by those large hands, and, without a word, Angel slid down his body and took his already swollen shaft into his soft lips. He licked around the head and base feeling the veins on the underside pulse. Spike gave an approving moan and tangled his fingers into Angelís thick hair. Encouraged further, Angel took in the scent of his lover, of the scotch still warm in his veins and the muskiness that came from living in a damp crypt. Spike also smelled of human blood - frozen - not fresh - an indulgence Angel himself rarely indulged in.
Nearly drunk from the aroma, Angel took Spikeís entire length into his throat, reaching a hand under the lean body of his childe and kneading his supple cheeks. A moan came from above and the fists in his hair clenched, tugging at Angelís scalp. The other hand he raised to his mouth, sliding a finger in and coating it with a mixture of precum and saliva.
Spike spread his legs wider, anticipating his sireís next move and welcomed the probing hands, reveling in the pressure when Angel tapped on the soft ring of muscle. Once again arching his back, Spike forced Angelís moistened finger into his passage in one slow motion, tilting his hips back and forth in time with Angelís sucking.
After only a few moments Angel found the spot he'd been looking for and pressed gently. Spike yelped, thrusting hard into Angelís mouth and gasped, "Christ, Angel, please. Don't make me wait."
Frantically reaching for the zipper he had left half undone, Angel eased it down releasing his painfully swollen erection. Spike rolled onto his stomach, getting up onto all fours and supporting his knees on the soft back of the overturned chair. Angel chewed on his lip, drawing blood at the sight. With his head resting on his forearm and his eyes black with lust staring back at Angel as he stroked himself, Spike presented a picture Angel wasn't going to forget in a hurry. Taking his time, he reached out and ran his hand down Spikeís muscled flank, just enjoying the sensation of touching another body so intimately.
ďCome on!Ē Spike growled, wriggling his ass and sticking it cat-high in the air.
As he felt Angelís body push against his back, Spike braced himself on the floor, and once again his sireís finger begged for entrance. A second finger joined the first, teasing round his hole, dipping in and stroking the sensitive skin. He gasped for air, focusing on the sensations, his nails digging into his palms as his mind spiraled away under that deft familiar touch.
Angel rocked their bodies together at a heated pace, burying his head in the crook of Spikeís neck and inhaling the heady aroma of family.
"Angel," Spike asked in a hushed voice.
"Taste me. I want to feel you. The true you."
For a long second there was silence and a total cessation of movement. Then Angel began a harsher pace with his fingers, skating the edges of pain as he found Spikeís prostate with each thrust. Spikeís eyes flashed gold with impending orgasm and he bit into his lip when he felt the shudder of the demon go through his lover - his sire. Fangs brushed up his neck and then pierced his shoulder with a single deep bite. Spike gasped and jerked as the blood was stripped from his body and he chanted in short breaths for Angel to take him, take him back, please take him back.
Angel let the heated blood course through his veins. The power of it was alarming. He had not drunk human blood in months and human mixed with the blood of Aurelius was intoxicating. Withdrawing his fangs, he threw his head back, panting harshly, and then bit deeply into his own wrist, letting the blood run down his fingers. It was a sticky slickness but would do them now as it had in the past. Without hesitation, he thrust them back in, coating the soft walls as gently as he could. Pulling them out slowly, he rotated his wrist and, grabbing Spikeís hip to stop him squirming, quickly coated his erection, and pressed into his childeís body. Spike reared back and took him in, slowly at first and then fully in a rapid movement that left Angel breathless and setting a fast pace.
Resuming his position at Spikeís neck, Angel guzzled down more of the sweet blood, and offered over his torn wrist. Spike rested his head on the cushion of the chair and grasped Angelís arm with one hand, pulling on his own cock with the other.
Spike bit into the wrist again, renewing the flow of blood. It was rich and thick, and he let it fill his mouth, swallowing in great gulps as Angel filled him completely. Against his back, Angel began to cry out as he neared his climax. Spike was used to him shouting his name at this moment; his true name, William, and he waited to hear it. It didn't come. Angel pulled his arm from Spikeís yearning mouth and placed both hands on his angular hips. Each thrust now went deeper than the last as though Angel wanted to remind Spike who was the master and who was the childe, the beloved childe.
"Sire!" Spike cried out, rising to meet each thrust. "Angel, oh god, please, Sire," he chanted over and over not wanting the moment to ever end.
"Spike, Christ, Spike!" The name rolled off of Angelís tongue like a spell, releasing a magic door in his childe, who was now howling in ecstasy. Angel reached his hand under Spikeís body, rubbing at his tight sack and the soft skin behind, his fingers finding the place they were joined. Spike rose onto his heels and flung his arms up, grabbing handfuls of Angelís hair and bringing his mouth tight onto his neck.
In response, Angel pulled a blood-slicked hand over Spikeís shaft in time with his own deep and steady pace but Spike was having none of it, shortening the thrusts, shallower and faster. Angel obliged, keeping up the sharp pace, and as he felt the shudder go through his childe, he deepened his thrust once again, sending Spike over the edge in a fit of epithets worthy of a sailor.
"Fuck, Sire!" Spike yelled, falling forward and spilling his release over his loverís hand and the chair.
Angel draped his heavy body back over Spikeís small frame and bit into his neck again. Taking a long draught of his childeís sweet elixir, his cock glided in and out clenched by muscles throbbing with the aftershocks of orgasm. Desperate to come, but fearful of what it may mean for his soul, Angel finally succumbed to the sensations, feeling his balls tighten and rise.
At last Spike felt the bite deepen as Angelís body convulsed and his cock spasmed sending a cool stream into him. His body jerked in sympathy, his ass tightening reflexively milking Angel of every last drop.
Lapping at the wound he had made on his childeís neck, Angel sighed and rested his forehead for just a moment before releasing himself from Spikeís grip. He sat back on the cold stone floor and leaned against the wall, his chest heaving up and down, instinctually taking breaths he did not need. Breathing equally heavily, Spike turned around and slumped into the upturned chair.
Angel was the first to speak, after they had had a moment to recover.
"I don't suppose this place has a shower."
"Nope, sorry pet, we'll just have to go over to the watcherís and use his." Spike couldn't help but smile at the thought of showing up at Rupertís house covered in blood and semen with Angel in tow. "C'mon, it'll be fun."
"Um, no, I'll just have to go like this, itís only a two hour drive."
"Yeah, I remember."
"You better, I told an ex I wouldn't be coming up here again."
"That so, guess I'll have to come down there then." Spike cocked his head. "That is if you don't mind me showing up unannounced."
"Wouldn't let anyone else in the door."
"Glad to hear it."
Angel stood up and grabbed Spikeís torn shirt from the floor, wiping off as best he could before getting dressed. He placed a small kiss on Spikeís full lips before heading for the door.
"Hey Angel," Spikeís voice followed him
"I won't let Adam hurt her, you know that right?"
"Yeah, I just had to be sure."
"So I'll see you in LA then."
Copyright 2002 - Tania
Violators will be beaten to death with a shovel
(A vague disclaimer is nobody's friend)