Learning To Share - Chapter 3
He seems annoyed when he's finished and stomps off to bed. I wonder if the look he cast me was cus I screamed someone else's name, or cus he sensed I wanted him to be that someone. Bit shitty of me that. But life is shit. Mine is. Now. Wasn't. Was fucking brilliant, only I couldn't see it. Took it all for granted. Took him for granted.
As I fasten my jeans, brooding again, the phone rings. Now this is nothing extraordinary, phones ring. All the time. But not in this weird parallel universe. Do they? And why the friggin' hell didn't I think of using the phone? Am I fucking stupid or something? I snatch it off the stand,
'Wrong number,' and slam it down again, only to snatch it up and dial his number. It only rings twice.
'Angel Investigations. We help the hel…'
'Bint. It's me.'
'Oh God. Why are you phoning, you lazy, dead thing. Get your ass up here if you want to speak…'
'Shut up. Take a breath. I'm not there. I'm here. Go get Angel. NOW!'
'Spike. Last time you phoned me from downstairs you pretended to be offering lesbian crisis counseling. The time before that…'
'SHUT UP' I'm practically screaming now. 'Get Angel, please. I need to hear his…I need to speak to him.'
'Spike…you only went downstairs with him five minutes ago. Is he in the shower? Is that why he doesn't know you are using the phone? Go away. Go watch your stupid…'
'Cordelia, please listen to me. I am not there. Please just shout down the stairs to Angel and ask him. Go on. Please.'
'I so know this is a wind up. Alright…wait there…Angel! Angel! Is Spike there with you?' I hear a pause and a muffled voice and she comes back on, 'I knew it. I hate you.'
'What! What did he say? Cordelia?' I'm desperate to make her understand. 'What did Angel say?'
'I'll tell you, shall I? What he said. When I asked if you were there? He said 'unfortunately'. So you are so gonna cop it for this.'
'Cordelia. Please. Help me. I am trapped in a parallel universe. Angel is human. Well, he's not now, cus I killed him. But please…'
'GO AWAY!' and with that she slams the phone down. I ring back desperately, but it's fucking engaged. She probably logged on, just to keep me away. Oh God. So, it's all still back there. Angel is still there and Cordelia. Angel Investigations. LA. Oh, and me. What am I doing there? Hey, and what did he mean, 'unfortunately!'
This is really doing my head in. And do I have Angel waiting for me in bed to sort it all out for me? No I do not. I have an upset childe who'll probably be crying and wailing and feeling sorry for himself. Damn, nearly had who he reminded me of then. It'll come to me, but it really is pissing me off. Oh well, better go and do the shoulder to cry on bit. I hate this Sire shit.
It's gloomy in the room when I come in. He's effectively covered the windows so the light only filters through the deep blue of a throw. I look over to the Watcher's bed. And yet again this Childe of mine surprises me. Cus he ain't weeping. Well not from his eyes anyway. He's lying spread-eagled on the covers, pulling hard at his dick with a look of pure lust on his face. And I can't help but smile at the picture. My Angel ain't done that in such a long time, I'd forgotten how erotic it can be to watch. Maybe I shouldn't be so accommodating when I get home. If I get home. Maybe I'll let him do it himself sometimes. I climb onto the bed alongside him and watch with greedy interest as his cock seeps under his ministrations, so close to coming. I have to physically restrain myself from reaching out and enjoying that moist tip with my tongue. But I do restrain. I glance at his face. He's staring at me. What does he want? Oh. That.
He's lifted his legs up to his chest, exposing his tight, virgin entrance. I've been here before. I've been given this invitation before. And I've always recoiled from it. Always made me feel dizzy with the implied reversal of everything I've ever known. Everything I've ever come to expect.
'Please, Sire, I've never done this before…but I want you inside me. Please.'
Talk about the blind leading the fucking blind. Cus if he ain't ever done this, he's one step ahead of me by just wanting it. Cus as I said, that's part of me problem. I ain't done it either. Not with Angel, not with Angelus and certainly not with anyone else. But hell, little Bill here ain't gonna have anything to compare me with, is he? He ain't exactly gonna be holding up score cards. And I am his Sire. He is my childe and it's expected. It's the lore.
'Wait here.' I put one hand on his thigh to reassure him I'm coming right back and head towards the kitchen. Watcher must have something we can use to make this first time pleasurable.
'Looking for this?' and my ever-surprising Childe holds up a tub of lube. Strawberry flavor.
'Err…where did you find that?' I'm actually not sure I want to know the answer to that. Even in a parallel universe, I don't want to picture the Watcher with lube of any flavor.
'It was here in the drawer…will it do?'
'Has it been opened,' please say no.
'Someone's had big scoops out of it, but we can still use it, right?' Oh what the hell.
'Give it here then.' I take a scoop and rub it between my fingers. It's cold and greasy and I really don't think I'm gonna enjoy this. It's too clinical. It's too remote. I'm just not in the mood any more. Shit, I really don’t want to do this. Cus don’t matter what my head tells me, me heart says, 'Angel', every time I look at him. But I do it anyway. As I said, it's expected.
I take my cock in my greasy hand and start to work it against his tight hole. He's bent at the waist watching my activities with interest. And that doesn’t help. You'd think I was giving him a snip at the vets. But I persevere. I push a little harder against his puckered entrance and suddenly the tip of me cock slips in. He arches back. And I don't know whether it was that instinctive movement, the result of pure, unadulterated pleasure. I don't know whether it was his groan and sudden, unnecessary, sharp intake of breath. I don't know whether it was the look of shocked lust on his face, or whether it was me. But I suddenly wished I had been doing this for the previous bit of me one hundred and twenty six years. Cus this is incredible. This is like flying. This is fucking addictive.
I speed up. I can't help it. I start panting too. And you'd have to be something that don't need to breath to 'preciate just how good this fuck had have to be. How come I've never done this before? And how come no one told me? He's so tight. Every inch of the surface of me cock is in contact with his soft lining. It's incredibly stimulating. Take the average hand job and multiply by a fucking thousand. Take a blowjob and add a few fucking pounds of pressure.
I take both his thighs and stretch him open as far as he will go. God, can you come instantly from the smell of strawberries? Cus I think I will. For the rest of me unlife. Warm strawberries and Angel. Instant orgasm. But don’t think of orgasms now. Think of something else. Think of…oh yeah, think of someone else getting off on strawberry smell…think of Giles…that'll put things off for a bit. Cus I don’t ever want to cum. I want to be pounding in and out of this tight ass for all my unlife. Till hell freezes over. Till I'm in hell. Don't care…the friction is driving me insane. I can't get enough of it. He's crying my name over and over. And the short staccato sound, 'Spike, Spike, Spike…' matches my insistent thrusting. I want this to last for hours, but my Childe surprises me again, cus he reaches up and taking my hands in his, puts them to his cock. And together we bring him off till his cold cum erupts between our fingers as mine shoots deep into his cold body.
He lifts my hands to his mouth and one at a time sucks my fingers clean, while I move gently in him, enjoying the last few sensations from his tight body.
When I'm finished I move to curl up with my head on his chest, but I'd forgotten the change in our roles. Before I can start to drift asleep he turns and spoons himself back into me, pulling my arms over him, reaching behind to wrap my leg over his hips. Covering him with me. Completely. He wriggles around in my embrace trying to get comfortable, and arches his neck back to be petted and kissed, rubbing his soft hair against my face. Suddenly, in a panic of need, he reaches behind to grasp my hand and tightly entwines his fingers in mine. And I suddenly realize what has been eluding me all day. I suddenly realize who he reminds me of. He is needy, wanting, demanding, selfish. He is me.
But his need in no way matches mine. I'm having to hold him, when I desperately want to be held. I'm starting to realise that being a Sire don't mean you don't need stuff. That being a Sire ain't just being strong. That it's acting strong, when you aren't. It's acting strong cus you have to. For them. Cus they need you to. Even when you're crying inside. And my cold, dead heart starts to weep for my Sire. For these things I didn't understand about him. Didn’t want to know. I squeeze his fingers tighter as if he were my Angel and as if somewhere, somehow, my Angel can feel my fingers too.