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The Darkling Plain

Episode 4

Chapter 4

They were both soaked when they got back to the apartment. Laughing, knowing what was to follow, Angel began to strip off his shirt, but Spike stilled his arm.

'Take the mutt out. I've got things to… get ready.'

Angel's eyes widened, but he buttoned back up and whistled for the puppy. By the time he reached the street again, the rain was coming down vertically in sheets that obscured the small, adjacent park. The puppy cowered under the door of the garage, refusing to move further. Angel gave him a nudge with his foot, but stayed under cover himself. He didn't like lightning.

With a dripping, sulking puppy, he made his way back across the floor of the offices and into the elevator.

He stepped out into a soft, muted world of flickering candlelight.

Spike had lit all the candles and placed them around the bed so that small space took on the appearance of an altar: something more important than its size; something where significant events were to occur. As Angel stepped wonderingly out, a streak of lightning tore across the sky, crashing its harsh, blue light into the room. For a moment, what had seemed serene and welcoming looked demonic.

He tipped his head back in anticipation, dropped the puppy onto the couch and moved toward the bed.

Spike emerged from the shadows and met him - just a presence in his way, soft, melding to him, easing him toward the bed with small nudges. Angel felt himself stiffening and grinned in eagerness at the thought of taking the slim body. He weaved between the candles and fell onto the bed, pulling Spike on top on him. Spike stretched out Angel's arms, running his hands up the wet sleeves.

Before Angel could protest, one wrist was clicked into a restraint. Before he could protest after the event, he was kissed and his second wrist imprisoned as well.

Spike sat back, straddling his victim across the groin. He rocked softly as he pouted, considering Angel's clothes. 'These'll have to come off.'

Angel gave him a patronising look and rattled his handcuffs. 'You didn't think this through much.'

Spike grinned at the easy cue and slid his hand under the pillow, producing a long, glistening hunting knife. 'No?' He eased the tip to one of Angel's buttons and flicked the small disc to the floor. Angel frowned and looked as if he was about to comment on the cost of the shirt, but Spike suddenly cut down one sleeve, the point dragging a little too firmly across the smooth biceps.

Blood ran down Angel's arm and began to pool in his armpit. Moaning faintly, Spike bent his face to the warm hollow and licked softly around the intoxicating flavour.

When Spike's tongue touched him, Angel forgot about his shirt.

Twisting around, Spike ripped the blade though Angel's pants, from ankle to hip, then repeated it the other side. He teased the blade over Angel's zipper and cut a little too deeply, drawing blood from his hard belly.

When Angel was completely naked, Spike laid the knife down and took hold of his own buttons. One by one, he opened them, at each opening rocking slightly on Angel, feeling his increasing urgency beneath him.

Casting his shirt to the floor, he rose gracefully and stood, looking down at his supine victim. He undid the buckle of his belt and saw Angel's cock straining to reach him, wavering in the flickering candlelight. When he slid the leather slowly off his hips and down his long, slim legs, the cock began to weep, as if begging for mercy.

He decided to be merciful.

Casting his pants to the floor, he lowered himself onto the hard impalement. Angel arched back and cried out with pleasure and the taut, bowed body enabled Spike to embed so far he could feel Angel's sac pressing against him.

Angel's eyes, dilated and slightly unfocused, fixed on him, and once more, he rattled the manacles. 'Kinda overkill?'

Spike's eyes widened in amusement, and he reached out to something without looking. Keeping Angel's gaze, he brought over one of the large, flickering candles. 'You think?'

He tipped the candle over Angel's right nipple.

He wasn't sure whether it was his weight or the manacles that kept Angel on the bed.

Either way, he rode the bucking figure with a gasp of deep delight.

As soon as the heat subsided and the wax solidified, Angel took a huge, very human-like breath of relief.

So, missing the bucking, Spike poured a similar amount on Angel's left nipple.

This time, the element of surprise was not quite as shocking, and Angel had breath left to scream. Spike groaned as the rod inside him swelled and lengthened.

It was such a satisfactory reaction, that he joined the two small spills of wax with another: a trail joining them like a harness across Angel's broad chest.

Angel lowered his back to the bed once more and peered down at the cooling wax. He seemed to relax slightly, which was a mistake, for Spike poured more wax across one armpit and up the soft, sensitive inside of his arm.

He couldn't help it: the writhing was so much fun.

The wax ran out. Angel gave him a snarky look. Spike reached out for a fresh candle and renewed his assault.

This time, the other arm, making sure he poured over the wrist from very close - so the wax would be especially hot.

He almost came from the wriggling and thrashing beneath him.

Leaning forward slightly, gripping his own cock tightly around the base, he waited until the peak of need was past and then sat back up.

Sweating slightly, Angel gave him a provocative look. 'You're gonna come before me.'

Spike nodded sagely, as if agreeing, then shrugged and eased himself off the rigid cock.

He shifted down until he was straddling Angel's thighs and then just stared at him.

Angel frowned, wondering what he was supposed to get.

When he finally got it, he attempted to scramble away. 'NO!'

Spike pouted, sympathetically, but held Angel's cock upright.

With his other hand, he held the candle a few inches above it.

'Don't you dare.'

Spike contorted his face as if something fascinated him, and he gently skimmed Angel's foreskin off the glistening cockhead.


The cockhead bubbled a single bead of fluid, which spilled over and traced the course of the small seam until it dissipated on the slick, red surface.

Angel watched Spike watching this. He watched the blue eyes rise. He saw the hand tip, and then he screamed, arching back, waiting for the agony.

Spike lowered the candle to the bed. 'That's a bit heavy. Think I'll have a little rest.'

Angel snapped his mouth shut and glared at Spike.

Spike bit his lip at the expression and made a theatrical show of twisting his wrist around.

Angel tried abortively to buck him off but stopped when he saw Spike was only enjoying it.

Spike inspected his wrist and gave Angel a pleased look, demonstrating how refreshed it was, but before he picked up a fresh candle, he took hold of Angel's cock once more.

Warily, Angel watched the dark, glinting expression.

Spike pinched the foreskin back up, and Angel made a small sound of relief that his raw cockhead wasn't going to be splashed with hot wax.

To give him his due, Spike actually managed to look sympathetic as he formed the foreskin into a high-sided pool and then filled it with burning wax.

It was hard to pour, hold a cock, and sit on an agonised master vampire trying to kill him all at the same time.

He did a good job, albeit with a little too much wax. It welled out of its designated receptacle and washed down the erect shaft, cooling and hardening as it went.

When he stopped screaming, when he stopped thrashing, Angel opened wet eyes to find his cock encased in solid wax.

Spike put the candle carefully back alongside the bed and then with a small glance up at Angel, tapped his handiwork.

It didn't even sway.

He took it in his fist and bent it around. The wax surrounding the base cracked, and Angel howled as the small, curly hairs were stripped out.

Tears began to stream out of his eyes, and he blinked. 'Oh, fuck.'

Spike tipped his head on one side and said, amused, 'Yeah, why not. Something new.'

He rose up and impaled himself on the wax edifice.

It was Angel's turn to enjoy someone else's pain.

Encased, moulded in the hard candle wax, Angel's cock was significantly thicker, a fact that only occurred to Spike as it was half way in, as the ridged, rivulets of hard wax dragged past his sensitive ring.

He paused and blinked, but Angel's chuckling made him clench his jaw and sit down, hard.

They both stilled as they took in new sensations.

Angel lifted an eyebrow.

Spike pouted.

Then he began to move.

Angel hissed urgently, 'Faster, warm up the fricking wax.'

Spike nodded and thumped himself up and down.

Angel felt sensation returning, and his cock seemed to respond to the need to stand unassisted, swelling to a rigid pole inside the hot channel.

Spike was lost to his own sensations, his hands splayed on the broad chest, his eyes closed to the delight of the fucking.

Once more, a huge flash of lightning lit the room with eerie blue light and thunder rattled the glass roof in its frame.

Neither vampire heard the storm. All they could hear was panting and moaning and soft, hissed encouragement. Thunder could not compete with the urgent slap-slap of wet flesh whacked by wet flesh.

Suddenly crying out, arching like a bow on Angel, Spike shot cum onto the slippery waxed-covered chest. It rained down and seemed louder to them than the downpour drumming onto the glass above them.

On one long, agonised cry, Angel reached orgasm too, his cum running out of Spike, reforming small peaks of wax on the curly hair with its coolness.

Angel sank gratefully to the mattress, the tension running out of his body.

Spike hung his head and rested his hands on either side of Angel's waist.

Stretching with pleasure, Angel began to twist the manacles to see if he could free himself.

Spike looked up. 'Don't do that.'

Angel frowned.

Spike grinned and reached behind him. He produced a crop. 'You'll be needing them.'

Spike allowed Angel a small rest. He eased himself off the still hard cock and crawled backward off the bed. He began to pace around, twitching the riding crop against his palm as he paced.

If he realised that by doing this he was only making the anticipation worse for Angel, he didn't let on.

Angel didn't need his childe's confirmation; he knew exactly why Spike was pacing around whipping the crop in front of him.

After a suitable amount of time to ponder his fate, Spike gave Angel a sly look. 'Turn over.'

Angel shook his head. 'No way in this dimension or in any other are you laying that thing on me.'

'Turn over, Pet; don't make things harder on yourself.'

'Spike. This isn't… ow!' Angel peered morosely at the soul of his foot. 'That hurt.'

'Did it? Better turn over then, Luv, or the next one'll be higher up. Much higher….'

Angel quickly twisted around in the restraints, presenting Spike with his perfect backside.

Spike sighed and stood on one side of the bed.

It had been such a good game; he couldn't resist it and giggled as he poured scalding wax across the slightly curving flesh.

Angel moaned with sheer delight then howled as a stinging lash followed the burning.

Spike only moaned softly and knelt alongside his handiwork. The mark blossomed to a bright red streak, intersecting Angel's cheeks.

Angel turned his head slightly and seemed to swallow Spike whole with eyes that poured out all his repressed desires.

Spike groaned with pleasure and pushed back to his feet. He brought the crop down again and again, taking pleasure in the artistic patterns he created on the pale flesh. It quivered, it split, it bled, and he shared this red passion with his lover.

He only stopped when a crash of thunder, so loud that it made the candles waver, left a silent vacuum in its wake. In that silence, he knew it was time to stop.

Spike dropped the crop to the floor and crawled onto the bed. He turned Angel over then bent his legs up, exposing the raw, bleeding mass.

His hands slipping on the bloody flesh, he paused and looked at Angel from lowered lids.

'Beg me to take you.'

Angel came back from a place a very long way away- a place where he'd surrendered all his need to dominate - and opened his eyes.

He saw Spike's cock: wavering, hard, ready to take him.

He blinked and hissed, 'Pleaseeee.'

Dipping his head with gratitude, Spike slid in on Angel's blood. They both arched with delight, and suddenly, Angel whispered, 'Release me.'

Spike looked up, confused for a moment by this request, then nodded, fumbling urgently with the manacles, slipping out, trying to re-enter and free Angel at the same time. Eventually, Angel's hands were free. They flew to Spike's neck, pulling him close, running furiously through his hair, down his back, urging him on. Spike thumped back into the wet, welcoming channel and felt Angel's blood coating him too, joining their bodies in a sticky mask of red.

Suddenly exhausted, he lay down on Angel's belly, just working softly in and out, teasing the lips of Angel's anus with his hard, veined column, but not doing enough to bring either of them off.

Angel lifted his head up and caught Spike's face, kissing him deeply. So many emotions passed between them, so much need and passion, love and gratitude.

The kissing overwhelmed them. Gradually, Spike slipped out of Angel, but neither noticed. All each could feel was the other's tongue, exploring gently, teasing, tasting. They moaned faintly and the sounds blended, harmonised. They rolled and turned in the bed, sharing and enjoying Angel's pain.

Spike felt something under his back and smiled into the kiss. With no hesitation, he brought out the knife and cut deeply across his own nipple, repeating the slash across the welling cut until blood poured out, viscous and coppery.

Angel sucked in his breath and fell on the bleeding nipple, drawing it into his mouth, easing his lips around this freely given sustenance.

He probed the wound with his tongue, teasing that as he'd teased Spike's mouth. As the first few sucks filled him with his childe's blood, they both came simultaneously, balls releasing their loads, cocks spewing cum around blood coated bodies.

When the shuddering delight was over, Angel settled down more comfortably on his childe and returned to the teat, pulling it with long, slow sucks into his mouth as he kneaded his fingers into Spike's flesh.

Spike lay in state of almost catatonic pleasure. He knew life would never be better than this.

Then Angel began to purr, and Spike's face cracked into a deep, broad smile.

Life had just got better.

Candlewax, blood and cum. The bed had never smelt more like theirs.

After their games, when the blood loss was equal, they curled into each other and nested, watching the storm play out over their heads.

Although they knew the lightning couldn't hurt them through the glass, nevertheless it sent small sparks of delicious fear through their bodies every time it sheeted across the sky.

It was only now that they were so quiet that they heard the true ferocity of the storm.

Totally relaxed for the first time since Spike had come to LA, Angel suddenly roused slightly and said softly, 'Did you hear that?'

Spike nodded on Angel's chest.

They pretended not to be listening, but both heard the next small whimper from the side of the bed.

'You're making us go back to work tomorrow, aren't you?'

Angel nodded, secretly pleased that his childe could now read him so easily. 'Yeah. Time to start saving people again.'

Spike hugged him closer, feeling their flesh melting together. 'That would be other people then?'

Angel hesitated then nodded, confirming that he too thought these few days had been a sort of salvation for them both.

A huge crash of thunder made the glass rattle again, and suddenly, their hands connected, both rummaging off the bed, seeking something.

Spike murmured, amused, 'Poof.'

Angel whispered, 'Sucker,' but they swept the puppy up, dropping him into the middle of their musky, warm nest.

Seeming to realise that he'd lose this concession if he sniffed around too much, the puppy just pushed into a suitable hollow of flesh and tucked his head out of sight.

Angel chuckled and tipped the animal onto its back, running his hands over its belly, making it arch and stretch with pleasure at such unfamiliar attention.

'I'm getting jealous.'

Angel gave a small, rueful laugh and let the puppy go to sleep, pulling Spike closer and repeating the action on his belly, until he was slapped away.

'I think I've named him.'

Spike chuckled. 'I told you… he's already called….'

'His real name.' He ran his fingers lovingly though tangled, blond strands, and knowing he wouldn't be understood, said softly, 'Droichead. I'm going to call him Droichead.'


The End of Episode 4

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