| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 |
Home | Gallery | Spike/Angel | Spike/Giles/Angel | Spike/Giles | Spike/Wesley/Angel | Buttons | Poems

Learning To Share - Chapter 7

Heíll be awake soon. I can sense a slight lessening in the depth of his sleep. I donít think Iíve slept at all. Been brooding. Seems to come with the territory.

I wonder if Angel meant what he said to the Slayer. It seemed true at the time. When I heard it. Oh yeah, seemed real true then. Stake meself sort of true. But now Iím not so sure. It donít seem logical somehow. And fuck it, I donít want to do a Mr Spock, but I am sorta thinking more clearly these days. All this added responsibility, I guess. But all night Iíve been thinking Ďbout it, and it just donít seem logical. Cus if it is true and he loves her more than me. If it is true and he wants her, not me, then why all the angst and fucking shit heís been putting me through? Why the beatings and the shouting and the arguing? Why not just kick me out and go get her? Nah, donít make sense. But one thingís for fucking sure, itís the first thing Iíll be sorting out when I get home. The first thing on me new list. Cus you can do a lot of thinking in one soddin' night of brooding. Oh yeah. Aní I got a real long list now of stuff. Stuff to sort. Stuff to change. When I get back. If I get back.

Heís stirring. He curls even more into my, by now, warm embrace. Then he stretches and turns on his back, staring at the ceiling. I watch intently as a small, sly grin creeps across his face, and he turns to me, reaching out for my cock.

ĎAgain?í

Why not? He is utterly irresistible. But Iím too warm, too lazy, too tired to be too active this morning. But I still want to be inside him again. I stay on my side, slide slightly lower in the bed, lift his thigh and justÖslip in. Why did I let this ever bother me? Itís natural, easy and...oh, sensational. I grin at his surprised face. I kinda surprised meself. Whereís the thrusting, whereís the hard work, whereís the sweat? And where did I learn this? Donít remember Angelus ever just lying with me like this. There was always thrusting, work and sweat with Angelus. For both of us. And I donít remember this with Angel either. He likes it a bit more active and physical too. But this is incredibly erotic. I move gently inside him, setting up a slow, long rhythm. I pull nearly out each time, till I can see the head of my own cock, purple and engorged, then slowly push back in till I gently stimulate his prostate. His face is screwed up in pleasure and he grabs the sheets with his fists, pulling at them. I take his beautiful cock in one hand and match the incredibly gentle, slow rhythm I am using inside him. His eyes fly open and he watches intently as I stoke him gently up and down, swirling my thumb over his slit, catching each bead of precum to use as lubrication for the next long pull. I love the feel of his shaft in my hand, my shaft deep inside him. He puts one hand over mine like he did last night, to try and speed me up. Impatient Childe. I bat his hand away. He tries again. So I just stop. Everything. I lie there and look up at him with a quizzical expression on my face, do you want it or not? Cus Iím the Sire and weíre doing it my way! He gets the message and takes his hand away and visibly relaxes on the bed. I start up again.

I donít believe it myself, but it took over an hour for us both to cum. By the end it was almost agony. But good agony. The sorta agony that stays with you all day as a sorta ache deep in yer belly. Sorta agony that makes you hard just picturing it. Every time I had been about to come, I just pulled out, plunging my tongue into his, by now, slick, warm hole. I kept him in a frenzy of need by thrustiní it in hard, as far as I could, biting with me teeth around the edges of his tight muscle. If I bit too hard once or twice? Well, blood is my passion. I worshiped at his slick entrance. I tortured him doubly by preventing his orgasm with my strong fist wrapped around the base of his cock. He was helpless under me. When I felt past the first rush of a desperate orgasm, safe to go back in, I started to show him how to make it even better for me. Jesus, Iíve been fucked by Angel enough times in one hundred and twenty six years to know what makes it good. I showed him how to clench his inner muscles at just the right time, how to push against my thrusts, heightening the pleasure for both of us. He was an avid learner. Eager to please, delighted in my praise. But he is so young, after an hour he was in so much agony from his throbbing cock, I had to let him finish. But I was greedy, I wanted every part of his orgasm. I moved down below him in the bed, knelt up, spread him wide with his knees pressed either side of his head and bending down, caught his throbbing cock in my mouth. With a little effort to get the pace just right, I thrust long, hard strokes into his body, whilst running my tight lips over his cock. He didnít last long. Neither did I. With matching, deep growls of desire we came together in painful, sharp, everlasting torrents of cum, me into him, him into me. A never ending circle of cum.

As he lies in post orgasmic slumber in my arms, I know now that I am truly lost. I admit to myself that I have given up the pretence of trying to separate this creature from Angel. When I entered him, it was Angel I was entering. When I sucked the blood from his soft, entrancing entrance, it was Angelís tight muscle I was licking. When I drank his cum, it was Angelís so familiar cold seed I was delighting in. I love this Child of mine with an intensity I never thought I would be capable of. But not for himself, I love him because of me. Because with him, I can be what I wanted to be with Angel, but was too afraid to try. Too afraid of his criticism. Too afraid of his derision. Too afraid of his not loving me for not being good enough. My gentle stroking of his soft, mussed hair wakens him. He opens his deep, brown, so familiar eyes to look quizzically at me. But he clearly ainít thinking quite so deeply about all this as I am, cus he just turns over with a lazy smile and goes straight back to sleep.

Jees, oh to be a Childe! Iíve gotta get up now. Got things to do. Got to get blood for him. For meself. Gotta try and phone the poof again. Shit. So much to think about now. But itís OK, itís worth it for the feelings I have for this Childe of mine. Worth it to know I can be inside my Childe anytime I want. That I can make him do anything I want. That he will want to do anything for me. Wish Iíd thought like this last time I was with the poof. Wish Iíd just done what he wanted. Wish Iíd just told him I was fuckiní scared. Too late now.

My lazy Childe makes an appearance just before lunch. Driven out of bed no doubt by hunger. I canít help but stare at him. He is...rumpled and...sweet. Heís dressed only in his old jeans. And his hair is sticking out at all angles, mussed. If anything makes him not my Angel, itís that. I canít help but chuckle.

ĎWhat? Whatís so funny?í

ĎNothing, pet. Just your hair. You remind me of someone.í

ĎSomeone you used to know?í

ĎStill know, luv.í I hope.

ĎIt wonít lie flat,í he demonstrates the difficulty. ĎIíll look for something in the bathroom.í

ĎNO!í Oh no, I can take a strange Angel-like man in this parallel place. I can take turning him. I can take him inheriting me chip. I can take him. I can even take finding the strawberry flavoured lube. But NO WAY, parallel universe or not, do I want to know anything about the Watcher using hair gel. Next thing ya know Iíll find leather in the wardrobe and then heíll be wanting to join in threesomes or something.

ĎNo, just leave it. Itís OK. Here, have yer blood. And drink it all. Itís good for ya.í

He takes it from me and turns to lean on the counter to drink, propping himself up on his elbows, skimming through a magazine. I study his butt. Itís irresistible. Like the rest of him. His jeans hang low on his waist. They are faded and slightly torn under one cheek. I chuckle again cus itís so different from the immaculate, Armani clad figure Iíve been sharing me life with recently. I move to stand behind him, pressing up ever so slightly against his perfect butt.

ĎWhatya lookiní at?í Oh God, itís a porn mag. Aní I was afraid of hair gel!

ĎFound it under the bed. Good hey?í He pushes back against me, wriggling his butt slightly to enjoy the feel of my hard bulge against him. I reach round and slip my hand inside the waistband of his jeans. Strange, canít do that with the poof. Fuck, is this parallel Angel thinner, as well as better endowed? Something very odd goiní on here. But makes it easy access to his cock. Itís practically sticking up beyond his jeans anyway. I scratch my nail over the head while he flicks through the pages, looking for something good. He starts giggling like a schoolboy and I can't help but ask him why and he practically chokes hysterically, as he quotes bits from the story, doing appropriate voices.

'He found hisÖjoy spot. Fuck me with that big bat of yours. Big bullets of cream shot up his red, hot tunnel, his silken ass chute.'

I rip the magazine out of his hands and hiss a low, warning hiss. Concentrate on me, boy. He grabs it back, but obediently turns to just pictures.

I squeeze his foreskin up and down, milking the first drops of precum from his slit. He pushes back some more. I release his buttons, slowly, teasingly. He finishes them off for me and pushes his jeans down to his knees. I get him to step out of them completely cus I want him spread wide. I take a step back to get meself out and to admire the picture Iíve created. Not one in a magazine. My Childe spread eagled against the kitchen counter, naked, his tight pink entrance clearly visible and inviting. I move back to him and as I reach round to hold his cock, I enter him, quickly this time, thrusting. Heís more than ready, stimulated by the pictures and by my playing with his cock. Itís great, cus he can thrust back against me, hard. I rest my chin on his shoulder and watch his face. Heís entranced by the pictures. I donít really need them. I prefer to close my eyes and think of the ponce again. Imagine this is the nancy hair-gelled git himself, that this is our kitchen counter, and that this incredible, hard, throbbing cock in my hand is his cock. He cums fast and hard over my hand, the magazine and the counter. Great ropey strands of cum drip down my wrist. In my head itís Angelís. In my head Iím in Angel. In my head, when I cum, itís Angelís deep channel I fill. And itís Angel calling my name.

We stay in this position for a while. I throb gently inside him, small almost imperceptible thrusts, just enjoying the sensation. Iíve added a few things to me list of things Iím gonna do when I get home. Sort out the Slayer shit. Shag the poof.

Cus Iíve got a taste for this now. Whatever else has come about from this weird fucking shit, I know I want Angelís ass. I want it in every way, every position and every place in that apartment. I ain't gonna be fobbed off with the Childe role any more! The old Sire has just gotta learn to share.

| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 |
Home | Gallery | Spike/Angel | Spike/Giles/Angel | Spike/Giles | Spike/Wesley/Angel | Buttons | Poems