the Fire in Which we Burn - Chapter 11
Spike's rumbling belly woke them both. Angel swore softly and pulled Spike more
closely to him, trying to ignore the subliminal waves of hunger now in his own
stomach. Eventually, he swore more loudly and sat up, swinging his legs off the
bed. He glanced at the barely visible blond hair with a frown of wonder, then
stood and padded over to the small fridge. He scratched idly as he waited for
the blood to heat, his mind in neutral, thinking about everything and nothing.
The machine pinged, he reached in and pulled out the bags and turned.
Something hard and fast propelled him into the wall. He fell, and the something
landed on him. He flipped them over and straddled Spike, holding one of the split
and leaking blood bags in his hand with an annoyed expression. He looked angrily
around at the other bags on the floor, some broken and leaking, some not. Stains
began to spread on the old carpet. With a dismissive, angry look, he hit at the
laughing vampire with the ripped bag and began to climb to his feet, but Spike
lifted his face slightly to the bloodied hand and moaned faintly. Angel hesitated
and pushed the bag harder into Spike's face. Spike grabbed his wrist and rubbed
the bag around his eyes and mouth, coating himself in blood, its sticky red trail
running down to pool slightly either side of his rumpled blond hair. Angel hung,
halfway between leaving and staying. Spike's tongue suddenly darted out and caught
a small drop of ruby crystal on his lip. Angel moaned deeply and bent to join
him in that capturing.
Spike peered through blood-misted eyes to a face he had not thought to see again.
In wonder, he whispered, 'Sire?'
The vampire licking at his lips and face looked at him from expressionless eyes
and responded, 'Childe?'
Hypnotised, Spike nodded. He was licked from his chin to his hairline, and then
another bag was snatched up and ripped open over his chest. Blood poured across
Spike's torso. His nipples, peeking a soft brown in the crimson flow, were captured
by needle-sharp fangs. He gasped and arched to the bite. He dug his fingers into
the dark hair and pulled the familiar face up. With a blink, he joined the game
and saw brown eyes glint with delight at the demonic transformation.
There was one moment of pause between them, and then all was a blur of blood.
They rolled on the bags, splitting them open, caking themselves in blood, pushing
it into greedy mouths with large, sticky fingers, pushing it into tight holes,
then bending to lick and suck it out again, rubbing themselves on the red mass.
They diluted it with clearer fluid that streamed from red-coated shafts. Their
own blood, brought forth by biting and ripping at flesh, mixed in too and added
intoxicating allure to the blend. They fed, sometimes sucking from deep wounds,
sometimes licking off cool, perfect skin.
Spike rolled them then rose over the supine figure, rubbing one more bag into
the dark hair and across the furrowed brow. He pushed it to sharp fangs and squeezed
it against the open lips, watching blood pool in the inviting mouth. He heard
a moan of satisfaction, felt the body beneath him writhe with pleasure, and the
sudden realisation hit him that in every fantasy where he had choked Angel on
blood, it had been that sound he had been listening for.
After that, there seemed no question who was to take and who had to yield. Spike
rolled off, looked over to his sire and lifted his backside, offering himself,
crossing boundaries of obedience and duty he had never thought to explore. Sure
hands, however, turned him back. He was straddled and grasped, and then slowly,
inch by inch, the blood-coated demon on top of him lowered. Spike began to shake
his head in denial, but something in the expression of the other held him still.
Only when firm cheeks met wiry curls did the dark eyes focus. Spike watched the
lowered brow, waiting for denial, waiting for rejection. When the intense lifting
and lowering began, he arched back in delighted wonder. His wrists were captured,
and his arms spread-eagled. He tried to maintain his demonic face but couldn't;
the pleasure was too great.
The riding sped up, and Spike began to twist and moan with pleasure. He closed
his eyes to enjoy the intense changes in his body without interruption, but they
were probed by large fingers and prized open. He blinked and looked up, until
another bag of blood, now cold and slightly congealed, was rubbed into his face.
He seized the wrist and brought it slowly, but very intently to his mouth. With
so much reversed, so many transgressions to the order of things, Spike did not
hesitate for long. He bit into the flesh with his human teeth, not concerned at
the pain this blunt insertion would cause. Hardly able to make a mark, he nevertheless
hung on, suckling and working at the wound in the steel-hard wrist.
There was little build up to orgasm. One minute, Spike was enjoying the swelling
in his balls and the throbbing in his penis, and the next, sharp juddering made
him bite savagely into the wrist; pressure burst somewhere in his groin, and he
felt a cold, blessed release deep in the body on top of him. Just after the last
of his seed fired off, when he desperately wanted his sensitive cock freed, a
powerful jet of cum hit him in the face. He stretched his neck up to catch the
full blast, holding his sire's twitching shaft lightly so that the release was
Cum mixed with the blood on Spike's face and ran in little pink trails like mythic
vampire tears down his cheeks. He sank his head to the floor, exhausted. He barely
registered slipping out and the heavy weight on him slipping to one side.
He could hear a faint pulse in his ears, almost like a heartbeat and lay in others'
stolen blood enjoying the sensation. Eventually, he turned his head and after
a slow blink to find some elusive courage, he said quietly, 'Where's Angel?'
The dark, blood-coated figure turned onto its belly and looked at him with speculative
eyes. A small chuckle made Spike take the bloody face sharply in one hand. He
looked more closely. The chuckle turned into deep, satisfied laughter, and then
Angel said with some difficulty, 'Guess I'd better be careful. I'm feeling kinda
happy right about now. You don't wanna try that for real with Angelus.'
'You bastard! I thought I was gonna lose me knackers there for a minute. I KNEW
the old man wouldn't have the balls to be fucked.' Spike rolled onto his back
and tried to suppress any thoughts that concerned nicotine.
Angel turned too and laid a hand lightly on Spike's belly, just playing with the
drying cum and blood. 'He was fucked though. He's in here; so you were in him
'I've a vested interest in that bastard never getting out again then, I'm thinking.'
'You and the rest of LA.'
'So, how are you at cleaning?'
'Get a new carpet. This place is hideous anyway.'
'Maybe tiles that could be wiped in future.'
Spike turned and looked at him. He wanted to see if the things he heard beneath
this deceptively simple comment were visible in Angel's expression. Angel turned
his face away for a moment, and this, more than the words themselves, convinced
Spike that something momentous had been offered in that casual suggestion.
Hesitantly, he murmured, 'I'm not going anywhere, Angel.'
Angel smiled, but Spike could tell he was covering some much deeper emotion by
that light response. He sat up and held Angel's face with both hands. 'I came
back, Luv. Did you not notice? You didn't have to come and find me, cus I came
back - cus I wanted you. So, yeah, get tiles. There'll be an eternity of substances
spilt on them now. And… fucking hell! I need a cigarette.'
Angel's expression had followed this speech: puzzlement, pleasure, amusement.
He lay back and shook his head slightly. 'I think that was a yes then.'
Spike grinned. 'If it was an offer, then it was a yes.'
Angel made a small rueful laugh. 'I told you I wasn't good with the talk.'
'You do okay. For a shadowy and taciturn vampire, that is.'
'I guess we need to shower.'
'Not yet.' Spike turned and opened his mouth gently on Angel's lips. 'We don't
do enough of this.'
Angel smiled into the kiss then captured Spike's buttocks and pulled him onto
his body. Spike stretched his legs, and they lay skin to skin along the whole
of their hard, cool bodies. It didn't take long before Angel began to run his
hand up and down Spike's spine in an unmistakable precursor to something more
than the sharing of tongues and lips. Spike reached around and caught at the roving
hand, urging it lower. With a moan of gratitude, Angel began to play with Spike's
cleft, easing in and touching his hole, stroking out and away before dipping back
in and finding that soft puckered area once more. Spike opened his legs and began
to push back onto Angel's hand, sitting up to increase the pressure he could exert.
Swiftly, with almost no change to the intimate game, Angel eased his stiffening
penis into Spike. Spike grunted in satisfaction at the sensation of being filled
and lay back down once more. Neither seemed desperate to do much more. They lay
almost still, Spike on Angel, kissing and playing with their mouths, watching
each other's expression as they explored the stranger they had just committed
As if baulking at the lack of movement, Angel's penis took its own relief. They
smiled into the kiss as they felt the swelling and twitching. Spike couldn't help
a small shift, just to rub the prominent vein over the place that gave him so
much pleasure. Angel grunted in pleasure and bit down on Spike's lip. With a groan
at the inevitability, but grinning all the same, their bodies took over once more.
Spike thrust down sharply, taking Angel by surprise. He gasped, but caught Spike
around the hips, and then forced him to repeat the action again and again. He
sat up, and Spike wrapped his legs around Angel's waist, their mouths now frantically
tearing and sharing freshly bloodied lips. Angel continued to lift and thrust
Spike hard onto his shaft, controlling the pace and depth of the fucking. Spike
wrapped his arms around Angel's head and arched back, changing the angle of entry
slightly. They both howled in pleasure - Spike's cheeks thudded into Angel's balls
each time he lowered.
Spike suddenly flung himself forward, burying his face into Angel's shoulder.
His cock was squeezed between them, and he thrust into Angel's body each time
he rose, drawing his sticky pre-cum trail down the slick chest on lowering. Angel
looked down at the sight of the red-raw opening: wet and glistening, moving toward
him, sliding away. He made a small, hissed sound of excitement when one single
drop of thick, milky fluid pooled, beaded, then escaped the small hole and ran
slow and heavy into the folds of foreskin. With a huge gasp of relief, Angel let
go the pressure in his balls and flooded Spike. Eyes closed, neck stretched back,
he lost himself to the overwhelming pleasure of filling his childe's tight, willing
Only when the last of his shots of cum left him on a tingling shudder did he think
about Spike. He crushed them together, slipped a hand into the tight joining of
skin and grasped Spike's root. Capturing Spike's mouth, Angel worked the slippery,
hard cock between them, rubbing it firstly on his belly and then on Spike's until
he could feel a river of fluid wetting his hand. Just as he was wondering if he'd
know when Spike came, fingers dug painfully into his back, and the shaft jumped
in his hand, swelling exponentially, filling his fist, becoming harder than steel,
and then, like holding a living heart in his hand, the organ pulsed, sending spurts
of sperm gushing over his fingers. When it was still, Angel released the shaft
and brought its offering to his mouth. He smeared the sperm over Spike's lips
then kissed it off again. He sucked his fingers, and made Spike suck them too.
Suddenly, as if moving slightly slower than time, Angel looked up and into Spike's
eyes. Deep need filled the dark expression. Spike knew what Angel wanted and nodded
faintly. Angel gracefully lowered Spike away from him, bending slowly to his groin.
He parted the long, slim legs then lay down on his belly. There were few preliminaries.
Angel's tongue darted into Spike, and the sensation made Spike tense and jerk
away slightly. Angel flicked his tongue over the heated entrance and smiled when
Spike eased back once more.
Angel licked around the soft hole for while then thrust in, his nose buried deep
into Spike's sensitive skin. He held his hands on the cool thighs and squeezed
his fingers as he wriggled and teased his tongue into the tight hole.
He heard a soft cry; he looked up and watched disbelievingly as Spike ejaculated
once more: small, opaque ropes of cum disappearing into the mess of fluids on
Spike flung his arm over his eyes and lay utterly still. Angel smiled and rolled
away onto his back, licking his lips. Suddenly, he heaved up to his feet with
renewed energy and grabbed at Spike's wrist. Groaning, Spike was dragged toward
the bathroom. He watched morosely as Angel ran the water, but could not hide his
pleasure when they stepped under its steaming flow.
This time, there was no awe, no reticence. They'd done that. Now they treated
the other's body with a healthy disrespect, mocking flaccid shafts, washing each
other roughly, working soap into bites to cause pretend howls of pain. Blood splattered
the walls, splashed out onto the floor and gradually left their skin and hair.
Angel volunteered to wash Spike's back and when presented with such a slim enticement,
ran the scrubbing brush brutally down the pale skin. Spike turned, laughing in
fury and grabbed it from him. With a raise of an eyebrow, he began to scrub around
even more sensitive areas. Angel bent over to prevent damage, but Spike sank to
his knees and caught the exposed tip with a particularly vicious swipe of the
bristles. Angel gasped and sank down too, cupping himself, his eyes rolling slightly
back in his head. 'Fuck! Spike!'
Spike grinned and replaced the stiff bristles with the cool tip of his tongue.
Angel held the sodden blond hair and urged him lower, the pain receding under
this cool sucking and licking. He tipped his head up to the hot flow and let it
stream over him as he was sucked deliciously back to hardness. He didn't want
to waste the engorgement so pulled Spike to his feet, spreading him against the
crimson-streaked tiles. It was like sliding into butter. He went so deep that
he wanted to check if his abused tip was poking out through Spike's belly. He
thought he could almost feel the inside of Spike's belly button, a hard little
nub reaching in to stimulate his slit. Angel began to dip and rise into the slim
body. Spike turned his head to the side and let his cheek lie on the cool, wet
tile. He reached behind and held onto Angel's hips, the thrusting just carrying
his hands with it.
Angel slid his hand under Spike's thigh and lifted it. The difference was sensational.
He knew he'd found that spot for Spike once more, for he saw the blue eyes widen
and heard a soft expletive. Spike braced himself across the corner of the stall,
and Angel continued to thrust into him. The cascading water made their skin slippery
and hot. Angel felt himself sweating, and it was washed into his eyes, making
them sting. He blinked and only thrust harder, almost at the place he needed to
be. Everything seemed to swell: his balls getting harder as they grew, his shaft
filling and reaching further into the tight channel and then the tightness exploded.
He arched back, clawing Spike around his belly, heaving the thigh higher. Spike
pushed against the tiles and thumped back to be filled, but Angel's release was
almost dry. It was painful and only the more exquisite for that. He shuddered,
releasing a few tiny drops of cum, but the shuddering was deep and made his legs
shake against the hard, pale cheeks. Spike twisted around to watch him over one
shoulder, a small, cheeky grin on his face, and then Angel pulled out, defeated.
He slapped the wet backside instead and bit gently into Spike's neck. 'I'm too
old for this.'
Spike began to laugh and pulled his leg out of Angel's hand. He kissed the furrowed
forehead. 'You'll do. I'm getting soggy; come on.' He dragged Angel out of the
shower and wrapped him in a towel, holding the front corners and leading him back
to the bedroom. They dried, sharing the towel, and then crawled into the bed.
Angel spread an arm out, and Spike curled in close. They revelled in the sensation
of sweet-smelling skin, so much so that the distinct blood scent in the room was
almost sickening. Angel began to rub Spike's belly. 'Hungry?'
Spike shrugged. 'Some.'
Angel pressed his face into the wet hair. 'Spike…?'
'About the… you know….'
'You're going to drag out the agony, aren't you? Make me say it.'
Angel coughed lightly. 'About the lack of…. damn.'
Spike chuckled but then added with a slight rush, 'Yeah, about that… I mean… I've
always wondered, and you being my sire an' all…. Where do they come from… I mean,
being dead an' all, are they all there or do we…. Angel? Are you laughing at me?
Fucking hell! The only bleeding vampire question I've ever asked you since you
murdered me in that stinking alley, and you laugh! That's bleeding rich that is.'
'I don't know, Spike. Usually I just fire and forget.'
'Thanks for reminding me.'
'You're just shagged out, Luv; that's all it is.'
Angel didn't reply only pulled him closer and nuzzled into his ear a little. Spike
enjoyed this for a while then said in a puzzled voice, 'I mean… you'd think with
all the fucking and bleeding and cum that we'd be more than dust, wouldn't you?'
'When we go… more than just the contents of the average household hoover.'
Angel turned him so he could see his expression. 'Maybe we are.'
'No one's ever staked a souled vampire. Maybe we're unique like that too. Maybe
we can't be staked.'
Spike stared at him for a long time then turned back to spoon them together once
more. Just before he fell into a deep, utterly exhausted sleep, Angel heard the
soft, but distinct comment, 'Please don't ever let anyone test that theory on
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