Learning To Share - Chapter 17
Over the next few weeks I became
increasingly protective, possessive even, of Spike. I knew that I was doing
it, but I couldn’t stop. Family. Blood. Forever. That’s what he had said. Did
he realise just how rare that was?
I let the others go out when and where they pleased, but not Spike. I couldn’t bear to let him out of my sight, for fear. Fear of losing him. Because then there would be nothing. No body. No clothes. No remains of any sort to let me know how and where he had gone. He would vanish into dust and there would be no evidence of his death for me to have certainty of my loss. So I couldn’t bear to let him leave my side. I made excuses to accompany him everywhere.
I treasure him because he is something so rare and precious I could never replace him. I know humans think they feel that, too. But it’s not the same...you can always replace them, eventually. Even a beloved child...when your heart is broken beyond measure...time heals, grief lessens. Others come along to replace the lost one. And human lives are short. But not ours. Our grief is eternal. And Spike is unique, my own Childe who has been chipped. I could never find a vampire companion like him again. If I lost him. How could I replace him? Now I have him, I can’t bear the thought of losing him and being alone again.
I know he notices my possessiveness. I think he even finds it embarrassing in front of the others. Does he think it demeans him?
Things come to a head one day when I come out of my office to find Spike...not there.
‘Where’s Spike?’ I must ask that question a hundred times a day, if he goes downstairs, if he goes up to the roof. If he is only a few feet out of sight.
‘He’s gone out to meet a new client.’
‘What!’ I am so angry I think, for a moment that I can hear Angelus climbing slowly up from the deep, deep basement I have buried him in.
‘Why wasn’t I told? You know I wouldn’t have let him...’ they are both looking at me with ‘duh’ expressions on their faces.
‘Quite frankly, Angel, I’m surprised he stuck it this long. You will just have to learn to trust him.’
‘You...not trusting Spike. I really think he has earned your trust.’
Oh. My. God. Oh my God, is that what he thought? That I didn’t trust him? And now I’ve lost him forever. I’m alone. For eternity. I’ll never...
‘Fucking waste of time that was. Fun though’. Oh. He’s back. Cordelia and Wesley make the hastiest retreat from the office I have ever seen. Leaving us alone. Together.
‘Where’s the fire,’ he says to their retreating backs.
I don’t know whether to go over and hug him to me or go over and break his nose. Both seem equally attractive options and equally fitting.
So I do neither. I turn and go quickly downstairs.
I am completely undone by this beautiful, annoying, sexy, manic Childe of mine. He has such a large place in my dead heart that there is little of me actually left in there.
I sense him following me down. I throw myself onto the couch and bow my head, putting my face into my hands. He stands a few feet away quietly.
I can’t move. I am paralysed by the fear. Fear of losing him. Fear I had lost him. I don’t expect him to understand. How can he? But once more he surprises me. Instead of his usual ’hit-nuclear-instant-reaction-to-any-situation,’ he stays calmly assessing me.
‘What’s wrong, pet? What’s just happened here?’
I just shake my head a little, face buried deep in the palms of my hands. I can’t look at him.
He sits down alongside me and pulls one of my hands away, into his lap. He starts playing with my fingers, bending them, opening and closing them, entwining them with his own.
‘Angel. Don’t do this. Talk to me. I thought we agreed...you know...to talk ‘bout stuff.’
I lean back and turn to look at him. ‘You wouldn’t understand.’
I take a deep unnecessary breath. ‘I don’t...I don’t think I can do this with you any more, Spike.’
His fingers still. I feel an immediate jolt of tension form in his body. His voice sounds forced and false even to me, ‘really Pet. Now why would that be then? Got bored with me already have you, in what...four weeks? Almost a record for you, Angelus.’
He starts to pull away, but I hold his hand now in a vice-like grip. With my other hand I force his head around so he is looking at me. His voice may have achieved calm and rational, but his face is all hurt and fury and despair.
‘Do you remember, you said in your dream you saw me die? Do you remember?’
He nods and tries still to pull away. I don’t let him. ‘Well, it’s like that Spike...in my head...every moment you are out of my sight. I see you dying...I see you die...dust...nothing. Every time Spike. I can’t do it anymore. It’s too much. Too much to bear.’
How quickly expressions flit across the mobile features of my beautiful Childe. From despair and hurt to total derision with one cock of a scarred eyebrow.
‘Are you yanking my chain, Angelus?’
‘Err...’ not the reaction I was expecting to my best soul-searching speech. ‘You did ask me to tell you...well that’s what I was thinking.’
‘You. Are. A. Tosser,’ he says very slowly and very loudly, his face one inch from mine. ‘So, you need me so much you’d want me to go?’
‘So you won’t have to risk losing me.’
‘Yes, I just said that.’
‘So, to prevent losing me, I go.’
‘So, to prevent losing me, you lose me’
‘Whereas you could have me, and not lose me.’
‘Don’t think anymore, pet. Your brains ain’t your best feature...and don’t ask me what that is...I’ll show yer, shall I?’
It takes him quite a while to get around to what he considers to be my best feature. He decides to rate my whole body on a strange Spike grading system. So every part is examined, tested and evaluated. For what I’m not quite sure. I think I’ve done enough thinking for one night. I just go with the flow.
But the time he reaches my cock with his soft, talented mouth, I am beyond caring where he rates it anyway. By the time he sucks me off into an explosive orgasm, I’ve forgotten I even had a body to be rated. I am just a scream in my head, screaming his name.
Much later that night, in the comfort of our bed, I sense he, like me, is still awake in the dark. I pull him into my arms and he willingly relaxes his tense, cold body against mine.
‘So last few weeks ain’t been about trust then, mate? Thought you still didn’t trust me, you know.’
‘I’m sorry. I don’t...express what I feel very well. It’s still difficult for me, you know.’
‘Oh, never have known, luv. You’re hiding it well.’ I slap him playfully. I sense he’s working up to some sort of point here. ‘You know you are wrong. About me. Not understanding, luv. I do. Remember, you only imagine me being staked. I actually saw you going. So I do know. It kind of...undoes you. Like being taken apart. I couldn't save you. So I do know.’
I lift his head to see his face. I am humbled. He does understand. We lie for a while in the dark, just holding and thinking.
‘What are we going to do then? You gotta let go, mate, you know that. Can’t keep me on a leash.’
‘We tried that once...remember?’ and I chuckle at the memory.
‘Weren’t funny from where I was at the time, mate,’ he says with an aggrieved tone to his voice. ‘Oh, and I think it wholly inappropriate for your cock to be doing that, when you’re thinking about torturing me.’
‘You were not being tortured. You were being house trained.’
‘Stop fucking giggling, Angel. It’s not bloody funny. Not then. Not now.’
‘We put your blood in a little bowl for you – remember? With ‘Spike’ on the side and a paw print?’
‘Shut up, fucker!’
But I can’t help it. I don’t laugh much, but the tension from the previous two weeks just seems to snap me and leave me out of control and loose. I can’t get the picture of Spike on his hands and knees out of my mind. ‘Darla drew whiskers, remember? Here and...’ I try to run a finger over his beautiful cheekbones, but he retaliates and bites it viciously to the bone. The smell of blood arouses us beyond belief. Before I know what I am doing, I reach over to the side of the bed and pick up his leather belt that he habitually throws down with the rest of his clothes on the floor. I pull it into the bed with us and move it suggestively around in front of him. His eyes go wide with surprise and lust, so I start to fasten it around his neck. He doesn’t resist. The sight of him with this restraint makes me frenzied. I sit on him and push his knees back up to his head. I take my throbbing, bleeding finger and start to swirl it around his tight entrance, holding tightly to the loose end of the belt with the other hand. The red, viscous fluid makes a pretty pattern on his stark, white skin. But he surprises me again. He pushes me back onto the bed and takes my place. His eyes are dilated, his cock, swaying and engorged, the belt round his neck a stark, beautiful divide on his pale, perfect skin.
‘Let me. I want you.’ Maybe it was my teasing, or maybe this potent re-enactment of his ancient subservience to me, but he seems to need to reassert himself now.
So I pull my legs back for him and expose my entrance. He grins seductively in the dark and grabs my bleeding finger. He raises his eyebrow and licks his lips. I wonder what he has planned when he suddenly pushes my own finger against my hole.
‘Lubricate yourself for me,’ he whispers.
Oh. I don’t know. I don’t know whether I can do this act. It seems too demeaning somehow, with him watching. But when I don’t respond immediately to his demand, he raises his hand and slaps me hard on one raised cheek. How does he manage this? How does he manage to turn the tables so effectively? How does he manage to slide in and out of his roles so effortlessly? One minute my subservient on a leash, the next, dominating and in control. I don’t realise my mistake, hesitating again, until his hand comes down once more, even harder. ‘Come on, Angel. I’m waiting. Do it.’ So I do. I take my bleeding finger and I push it slowly into my own entrance, moving it around so my blood coats the tight muscle, so I am slick and ready for him. He puts his own hand lightly on mine as I perform this act for him. I’ve never seen him so hard, so ready, he seems beside himself with need. He pulls my finger out and with one hard push, places his cock deep within me. As he settles in and gives me time to adjust he takes the finger, still seeping tiny droplets of blood, and puts it in his mouth.
He took over an hour to come. Long, slow strokes deep in my body: soft, sensual sucking on my finger. When he felt that I was near the edge, he would stop thrusting so deeply, bringing me back down, drawing out the ecstasy and the agony. He allowed me to hold myself with my free hand, but wouldn’t let me make more than a pretence at bringing myself to orgasm. He wanted that all for himself. When he had had enough fun, he released my finger, bent down and took my cock in his mouth. Then he applied himself for real. His thrusts became hard and urgent. He hit my spot again and again. He put his thumbs on my balls and pressed them hard. He used his tongue on my slit and sucked me with tight, hard lips. By the end I was screaming. Incoherent, vampire screams of pain and pleasure. I came in an eruption of cold cum in his mouth and he swallowed deeply, sucking me dry. Then he reared back on his knees, placed his hands on my thighs and pushed them back till my knees practically touched the bed either side of my head. With such incredible access, he became frenzied. He thrust so hard I felt my head banging against the headboard on every stroke. I didn’t know any body could take such pounding, even a vampire body. With his eyes tightly screwed shut, his face contorted with the rush of his impending orgasm he started panting, quick, fast gasps for unnecessary air. Then with a huge intake of breath he went rigid against me as his flood of cum implanted deep in my body. He milked himself dry against me, then slowly collapsed down till he was lying in a spent heap between my legs. After a while I hear a low, quiet chuckle. I stroke his hair, mussing the blond strands up into little peaks between my fingers, tugging lightly on the end of the belt, pretending to tighten it and release it, tighten and release, in a soft, hypnotic rhythm. He chuckles again, and I just have to ask.
‘What? What are you laughing at?’
‘Nothing, pet. Just wondering if this was a good time to go now. To save yer from not having me any more. What do you...’ but he can’t even finish, he’s laughing too much.
I’m far too spent and tired to want to continue with his, ‘wind-up-Angel,’ game of the moment. I pull him up, over my body and silence him with a deep kiss, releasing him from his restraint. I won’t tell him how my fear has now increased. I won’t tell him that by every surprising, intimate act he performs with me here in the dark he only undoes me more.
I thought, lying in that bed with Spike, totally spent and aching from the abuse his body had given mine, that I could not love him more. How was I to know then just how true the saying is, that you only really appreciate something when you lose it?