The Adventures of Captain Peroxide and Deadboy
The Angel/Spike Zone of the BtVS Writer's Guild
Nostalgic
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Angel/Spike
Summary: Post Chosen. Human Spike.
Notes: Originally an untitled A/S Livejournal fic, written for Wicked Princess
It’s just like it was.
So few things are these days. His own allegiances, his friends, his son - these things are gone from him, and all he has left is the man spread before him on the bed. Looking just as he did the first time: hair framing his face in honey-colored waves, skin unscarred and golden in the lamp light, eyes filled with lust and wonder. And fear; there had been fear that first time, but it’s not there now. In its place is a look of utter entitlement. Spike’s very being seems to say: I died to save the world and I was reborn to fuck.
Angel’s not about to argue.
So it’s just like it was, just like the first time. Except Spike’s skin is warm beneath Angel’s eager fingers. Soft skin, skin like cream, which Angel strokes and pets and tastes with lips and tongue. Skin that beads with earthy, human-smelling sweat, and pulses with warmth as Angel traces a wet path down Spike’s neck to his jugular. He suckles there, feeling the blood beat madly beneath that hot skin, and it is only through 100 years of practiced repression that he is able to restrain his fangs. That, and that he doesn’t want the rythym of life that thrums beneath his mouth to end; wants instead for it to thrum right into him and beat the coldness out.
He leaves Spike with a hickey, happily marring that perfect skin, and continues the exploration down this new familiar body.
The first time, he’d taken one of Spike’s nipples into his mouth, sucking hard until the body beneath him had arched from the bed, wordlessly murmuring his pleasure. Now Spike is nothing if not full of words; with every hitched breath, he mutters varied appreciation and instruction: "Yeah, just like that. Right there. Mmm, harder. Harder. God, Angel, your mouth..."
Angel’s mouth is currently out of Angel’s control. It’s licking lightly around Spike’s left nipple and then taking it roughly between his teeth while Spike’s fingers twine in his hair, pushing him down. Angel can feel Spike’s heart beating frantically against his cheek, can feel it pulsing through his jaw with every needy lick and suck. It makes Angel vibrate with a kind of life he can only feel skin deep.
This needs to stop.
The first time, Angel had lowered Spike’s head to his crotch, had pushed that virgin mouth to his cock and told him - his new protégé, his new fuck-toy - to suck. Whispered instructions along the way, and Spike, always a fast learner, had complied beautifully. Angel can still remember his long, talented tongue, his full, girlish lips, and how they felt wrapped around his cock. Remembers it well, and wants to feel it again.
Angel lifts his head from Spike’s chest. Spike looks self-satisfied and relaxed, his eyes heavy-lidded, his lips drawn into an easy smirk. "Suck me off," Angel says.
Spike looks pleased at the suggestion. He puts one hand on Angel’s chest and pushes him over onto the bed, switching their positions. Cups the other hand over the very prominent bulge in Angel’s trousers as he does so, and smiles, wickedly.
Once Angel is flat on his back, Spike lowers his head. With his mouth hovering mere inches away, he undoes Angel’s zipper, slowly, his left hand taking it down tick by tick, and the right braced against his thigh. Impatient, Angel reaches down to speed the process, but Spike bats him away, and proceeds even more slowly.
Finally, Angel’s cock bobs free of its prison. Spike takes it firmly in his hand and waits until he is sure Angel is watching before lowering his lips around the head. He sucks gently at first, gradually taking more of Angel in. With one hand, he works his way between Angel’s legs, ghosting past his balls and coming to rest, teasingly, at his entrance.
It’s just like it was. Only Spike’s mouth is warm as it hums around his length, and every time Spike pauses to draw breath, it sends shivers of pleasure through Angel’s whole body. Spike gives an enthusiastic blow job, seeming to savour every twist and working of his tongue, every move his fingers make as they dance around Angel’s tightening sac.
It’s almost obscene how quickly Angel comes, but it’s nothing compared to the look on Spike’s face as he makes a show of swallowing every drop. He worms his way up Angel’s body and gives him a long, thorough kiss. When Angel tastes himself on Spike’s lips, he is almost instantly hard again. He reaches up and cups Spike’s bare ass. He knows what he wants. He wants it to be exactly as it was.
"Hands and knees," Angel says.
The first time, after Angel had instructed Spike in the art of the blow job, he’d bent the younger vampire over a chaise and fucked him hard, fucked him sudden, fucked him until he screamed. He’d come thrust deep inside Spike's tight channel, and when he was sated, he’d taken care of Spike’s needs with two rough pumps of his fist. And Spike had promptly begged for more.
Now Spike rises, kneeling on the bed, his thus far neglected cock jutting out proudly in front of him. Once again, he waits until Angel is watching, and then he strokes it firmly, thumb playing roughly over the tip.
"No," he says. "Not today."
Angel cannot even work up a protest before Spike is once again bending down between his legs. He coats his fingers with his own precum, and guides the slick digits past Angel’s rigid cock. This time there is no teasing: Spike’s fingers breach Angel’s hole with a quick precision born of much practice. Angel remembers watching Spike prepare himself, watching as Spike reached behind and readied himself before lowering down onto Angel’s waiting cock. He sees that now in his mind as he himself is entered, is stretched by Spike’s scissoring fingers, fingers that curve and reach and hit a spot that makes Angel writhe.
This is nothing like it was.
"Yeah, that’s right, let me in," says Spike, who, it seems, never does stop talking. "I’m gonna fuck you until you see stars, Angelus. You’ll see what I saw, and you’ll finally understand." He removes his fingers and holds tight to the end of Angel’s cock as he positions his own.
"You want to understand, don’t you?" he says.
Angel nods.
Then it’s one quick thrust and they’re connected. Spike pushes in and out in a steady rhythm, and leans forward to kiss Angel’s mouth, capturing his cock between their bodies. It rests there, trapped between fire and ice, as Angel lets Spike’s heat consume him.
-End