Title: 'A Question Of Lust' (1 of 1) - Sequel to 'Under Her Thumb'
Author Rune
Email:
Rating: NC17 for slashy goodness, bad language and violence
Pairing: Spike/Angel
Spoilers: Season 4 snippets
Distribution: Sure, just ask. That way you get to see me go all weepy
Feedback: Ohhh yeah... please... give it to me baby...
Disclaimer: I'm a Pretender, all hail Joss The Master
Author's note 1: You really need to have read 'Under Her Thumb' to get the gist of this one.
Author's note 2: ((...)) Denotes thought.
Author's note 3: Errm.... I know a lot of people are NOT going to enjoy this fic - to them I say SORRY in advance! I just needed to get it out of my system. Just keep telling yourself it's only a story, it's only a story...
Dedicated to: Laura, because she is a sweetheart and a wonderful beta reader.
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A dark shape stood silently on a rooftop in the growing darkness gazing over a city. It looked like a very fancy birthday cake, all lights and glitz; however underneath the sweet icing there was a rancid, evil-tasting centre. Many people were unaware of its putridness and continued to eat; those that knew continued unabated, even adding to its wicked brew.
The silent observer mused on this and on many other things; but the subject foremost in his mind was one of lust.
What was it about lust that compelled a man to forsake everything that he held dear; to cast aside morality and decency and instead descend to the depths of deceit, debauchery and even betrayal? Lust wasn't tangible; you couldn't hold it in your hand, you couldn't manufacture it - you could *buy* it but only in a sham of its true self. It was, mused the observer, a magical thing.
The observer had known lust; embraced it, twisted and corrupted it. In its pure form lust could be a beautiful thing; a thing of pleasure and joy, of bonding and joining. In the hands of evil it corrupts, depraves, cajoles, deceives and blinds - the observer should know, lust was his greatest talent. He was a master, an aficionado, an artist, even a teacher... he laughed bitterly, yeah, he had been a *great* teacher... shame no one had told him that sometimes the pupil can out-learn the master.
But here was a question: what of lust and love? Were they separate beasts or were they forever entwined? Could one bird sing without the other? Could one love but not lust? Lust could spark alone, but without love it faltered, died. Could love spark without lust?
The observer had known love in all its guises. The innocent love of a child for its mother, a sibling for its sister or brother but what of *love*, that all encompassing passion for another being, that *need*, that connection.
One thing he knew for sure... to love was weak, to need was folly, and if one lusted and loved then surely one was lost... vulnerable, defenceless, open to pain, open to betrayal.
Love was dangerous.
Love cost.
Love could lose you... say, a soul?
He had lost a soul once, no... actually twice if truth be told. Once to a vampire, the soul ripped from him when he was in the Turning, the second time when that soul was returned and then taken again because of a curse. He eventually got his soul back, but not after becoming *him* again, not until he had taken life, inflicted pain, become a harbinger of fear and death, a whirlwind of insanity and chaos; not before he had suffered every torment hell had to offer.
Then he was 'souled' once more, *gifted* with sorrow, regret and guilt; cursed to wander among the dead when he loved and felt like the living; the shadowman, unable to taste true love, true happiness without unleashing that chaotic bastard on the world once again.
But he had been steadfast, this shadowman. Even in the face of lust and love had he conquered temptation; looking in the face of the woman who loved and lusted for him, the woman who would have given everything. Even then, although so sorely tempted, he did not falter.
He *would keep* this soul of his.
But he hadn't count on the past.
There was one he had loved beyond all other, one who was everything and one who had given his life and soul to him.
He hadn't counted on him.
((Forgive me father, for I have sinned against you....))
When his prodigal son had come knocking on his door he had been unprepared; unprepared for the crisis of conscience, the love , the *lust*.
((I am no longer worthy to be called your son....))
The dark-haired vampire sighed with un-needed breath, and his mouth slid into a lop-sided half smile as he remembered his Childe's return. After three hours of hunting for what turned out to be a non-existent demon (nah... its a looooooong story!), he had returned home to find a stray on his doorstep. Well that was what he had looked like, that Childe of his, a stray... all dirty and unkempt and unfed... How could he turn him away, after all, he *was* blood.
((Bring the fatted calf and kill it....))
He had invited him in.
((... he was lost, and now is found...))
There was no killing, calves or otherwise; but there was comfort, hearth and home - there was microwaved pig's blood and there was
((Forgive me, father...))
Daddy.
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In the cold light of day the Slayer crawled from her hiding place. She was a shadow of her former self; bloodied, pale, shocked beyond reason.
Slayer's world had exploded in a kaleidoscope of horror and death.
((Just like *he* wanted... just like he planned... planned and schemed and all the time sitting in Gile's house, sitting with Riley... sitting and whispering and planning and scheming and smiling that cold smile and 'I'm helpless as a kitten up a tree, pet...' and not being able to kill, to bite, to hunt but able to whisper and whisper and trap and... take. Take Riley... Spike had took Riley, had took everyone... everyone she had loved...))
Everyone she had loved...
((Loved still... Oh please God, take it back... take it back...))
Was dead.
((Not dead, though... undead; lost, cursed, possessed, *inhabited*. Ravenous for her...))
Blood.
So. Much. Blood.
Witch's blood, dripping from walls, smearing every surface... bodies torn and tortured and bitten and so much...
Blood.
Ravenous for her blood - Slayer's blood.
So Slayer had ran.
Ran, hidden, listened as they searched. Listened to those once beloved voices; soft, seductive, cajoling, pleading...
'Let us in... we need you... let us in, we're frightened Buffy, oh please... so frightened.'
((There's a wolf at the door...))
But no.
Slayer curled in a ball, cornered and trapped but locked in and safe.
Safe until daybreak...
((No wolf; just Mother, Watcher, friend, lover.... Oh God... take it back... Bring them back... GIVE ME MY LIFE BACK!....))
Chilled to the marrow, in a drought of tears, rocking, rocking, rocking... waiting for day... waiting to run.
Run to LA.
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So the sorry tale had been spewed out in bitter, angry bursts of speech. A tale of capture, torture and violation.
Angel had silently listened to his Childe, his child, as the blood...
((Blood of my blood))
Dried on those pale, trembling lips; blood drank from a cup and not a throat; blood given freely, not stolen.
Angel had hardly blinked or moved. Listening in a growing tidal wave of anger and hurt at the people who would do this to his childe, his child.
((Blood of my blood))
His Will.
And when it was finished, the tale ended and nothing left but sobs and trembling desperation and 'Oh Christ, Sire... I need you...' - when it was finished Angel gathered up his child in his arms as a father should; gathered up his prodigal son.
((Blood of my blood))
And laid him gently on the bed, drawing the soft covers around him.
Sighing, the vampire settled into a chair and watched over his charge marvelling at his stillness, marvelling at the dark, sooty lashes kissing those pale cheeks, marvelling at the feeling of completeness he felt because of his child's return. Satisfaction sat heavily in his chest, elation that his boy had returned to him, needed him, wanted him to be his father once again.
((Father? Daddy, yes but *father*? Does a father love his child? Most surely, but does a father yearn, does a father *need*, does a father covet, does a father lust?))
Just looking at his boy now, eyes piercing the darkness to caress the slim, hard body, just looking made his groin tighten, made him salivate, made him lust. Wearily he covered his face with his large hands... maybe not seeing Spike would take the thoughts away. But no - if anything the images intensified until the body on the bed was uncovered, wanting, willing.
Brown eyes snapped open behind his fingers and when the hands dropped, when the body on the bed was back in view then, oh God... blue eyes were staring back, ice-blue orbs of yearning and needing and lust.
Angel whimpered, helpless and lost in an ocean of feelings and needs and... Damn... how long had it been? How long since he had held and been held; how long since he had touched and been touched; how long since the last time of sweet release?
Wordlessly, Spike drew back the covers and waited.
The dark-haired vampire's face creased with pain and he shook his head.
'No... No Spike, I can't ... I just...'
The blonde's lips trembled and he whispered, voice heavy with emotion.
'Angel... Sire... Please, I *need* you. Take me back, Sire... I'm beggin' you, let me be yours again.'
The whisper hung heavily in the air between them.
Angel groaned and a solitary tear trickled down his cheek. His large hands writhed in his lap like a nest of vipers. 'Oh God... Don't do this, Spike. I can't, I just can't... it's too risky... And I'm not *him*, I'm not your Sire anymore...'
((Oh, but I am when it suits me, I am when *I* say so, you're mine... you'll always be mine...'))
The blonde's eyebrows raised and his blue eyes widened. 'So there's nothing left? You... You don't want me, you don't care?'
Angel gave a strangled sob and buried his head in his hands, fingers tightening and untightening in his dark hair. 'Care? God Almighty, Spike... I never stopped caring... never stopped loving you, never.'
Spike pushed the bedclothes aside and leapt from the bed, throwing himself at the dark-haired vampire's feet. Wrapping his arms around Angel's legs, the blonde laid his head in his Sire's lap rubbing his cheek against the soft cotton of his Sire's trousers, inhaling his musky scent, feeling the outline of his sleeping sex beneath.
Angel's hands crept of their own accord to tangle in the soft, white pelt of Spike's hair where they stroked and petted. The blonde sat at his feet like a large white wolf.
Spike looked up at his Sire, his face animated with joy. 'I love you, Angel... make me whole again, make me yours... let me stay here with you. I don't wanna to be without you no more, I wanna come 'ome.'
Something deep inside Angel strained against its shackles and reluctantly he took his hands from his childe's hair. Spike reached up and caught the large hands in his, raising them to his lips where he held them reverently, kissing each finger as if it were a holy relic, his blue eyes never leaving the dark, liquid depths of Angel's eyes.
The dark-haired vampire watched transfixed as his childe's cool lips caressed his trembling fingers, watched as those lips parted and a pink tongue flicked out and dampened the tip of each digit. Then, bolder now, the lips engulfed his middle finger in wet softness and sucked gently, insistently.
A painful jolt of white heat flashed in Angel's groin and he felt himself growing hard. The dark eyes closed and, lips parted, he moaned softly. Spike slowly slid the wet finger in and out of his mouth, his tongue teasing the tip and blunt teeth gently scraping the sides. Sliding the finger all the way out, the blonde's tongue trailed lazily to lick the palm of his Sire's hand relishing the smell, relishing the slightly salty taste of his Sire's skin and then upwards towards his wrist where the cool lips kissed and teeth gently nipped.
Angel's eyes opened, gold tinges showing in those deep, dark depths. Cupping Spike's face in his powerful hands the vampire drew his Childe to him, his mouth hungrily searching for Spike's; eager to taste what had been for so long the forbidden fruit, eager to breech the divide between them, bond with his favoured one once more.
Firmly, Angel pulled the blonde into his lap. Spike straddled him, firm thighs gripping Angel's hips, groin to groin. They kissed hungrily their tongues duelling for dominance, probing deeper and deeper, wanting to swallow each other, be *in* each other completely. The Sire felt his loved one's hands tangle in his dark, silky locks, hands pulling him closer, mouth devouring him, senses on fire.
Angelus struggled within screaming to be set free, screaming to claim his long lost son; to claim, to ravage, to fuck until he bled, to mark anew.
And then Angel was lost - lost in a reeling, howling, torrent of desire. His control was shattered and he cared for nothing other than this moment; this moment of tearing clothes, of naked flesh, of his childe's mouth on his nipples as they sucked and bit and teased; Spike's hands now in his lap, now on his cock... stroking, cupping, gripping, coaxing through the soft material of his trousers, Spike panting, Spike moaning, Spike pleading... 'Fuck me... fuck me oh please fuck me...'
Growling, the dark-haired vampire arose from the chair gripping his child firmly around the hips. In one fluid movement he threw Spike on the bed and then ripped the remainder of his own clothes from his body.
Spike lay in awe, his heavy, lust-filled eyes drinking in the sight of his Sire in all his naked magnificence; the broad, muscular shoulders, the smooth chest... smoothness which tapered away at the navel to the dark, luxurious hair below from which jutted his hard, pulsing member.
For a moment Angel hesitated, a small frown flashing across his brow; but then Spike reached for him and spoke, his voice hoarse with desire.
'Fuck me, Angelus... fuck me and make me yours... please...'
With a growl Angel kneeled on the end of the bed and crawled slowly the length of his childe's body, looking every inch the dark, sensuous predator that he was. Spike had hastily shod the remainder of his clothes and lay waiting, legs akimbo, body laid out like a sacrificial lamb awaiting its slaughter.
The dark-haired vampire's tongue snaked out and he licked Spike's body slowly, small flicks dancing over hardened nipples and sensitive ribs as the blonde gasped and writhed beneath his Sire's hot gaze. The mouth travelled downwards, tongue disappearing into the small, neat navel then onwards, down... down until... 'Oh fuck, Angelus... don't stop... harder, suck it harder oh please....'
Angel held his childe firmly by the hips forcing him into stillness; the blonde's cries and whimpers and pleads thrown breathlessly into the air as his Sire's mouth engulfed his hard, eager cock and his cool fingers gently teased and probed his anus. Letting the rigid member slide from his mouth, Angel's tongue teased its way down to the tight, heavy orbs below where it licked and his teeth gently scraped before his tongue teased its way into his Childe's puckered opening, causing the blonde to cry out and arch his body beneath his Sire's firm grip.
The dark-haired vampire's head swam with the musky, heady scent of his favoured one, his senses screamed with each moan and whimper Spike made, each time Spike cried his name and tightened his grip in Angel's hair. Angel felt somehow detached, felt as if he were watching himself in a porn movie, watching his busy fingers, his eager mouth on his Childe's rigid cock, yet he was here... touching, sucking, cock so hard he thought he would burst, desire pounding in his head like a drum, every fibre of his being wanting to fuck this boy, be inside this boy, *own* this boy, bite this boy.
Somewhere deep inside himself, Angel was afraid but it was too late... he was too far gone. Already his fangs had pierced Spike's inner thigh, already he had soaked his fingers in the rich blood and was pushing them inside Spike's cool body and oh the smell... the sweet, heady, coppery smell of the blood, it was like Heaven, it was like Hell, it was Spike and Angelus and the hunger and the feeding and the demon and the joy, the sheer, vicious, evil pure joy and it was wild and feral and free... free...
Oh God, no....
It was free...
*he* was free.
The world seemed to explode in slow motion as Angel buried himself, buried his hardness in his Childe's body. Spike's body arched and bucked beneath him and his pale hands gripped his own rigid length and stroked and pulled in time with Angel's thrusts, as Angel lost himself in the lust and the blood, as he sank his fangs viciously in Spike's neck, drinking... sucking hard, pumping hard inside the blonde, pumping and thrusting until Spike was coming, Spike was screaming... screaming in pain, screaming in ecstasy, screaming his name again and again and again.
'Oh fuck... oh fuck... Angelus... Angelus... oh I love you oh fuck I love you and don't stop, don't stop, don't stop...'
The dark-haired vampire howled as his cold seed spurted inside his Childe, howled as wave upon wave of pure, white-hot pleasure surged through his body, howled in sheer unholy pleasure, sheer unholy joy.
And pain....
((Forgive me Father, for I have sinned against you...))
Pain? Pain? Ahhhhhhhh mind wrenching soul destroying pain... oh fuck it hurts oh it hurts so bad and oh my God oh sweet Jesus what have you done oh fuck Spike what have you done....
((Forgive me Father, for I have lied...))
Laughter... screaming, hysterical laughter... Spike laughter... Spike laughing as his Sire is screaming. Screaming in pain, in this soul destroying, soul stealing...
((Forgive me... wanted you back, *needed* you back...))
Pain...
Silence.
Spike's watching now... is he there?
'Are you ....'
((....there... Angelus, are you...)) '
There?'
Gold tinged pools of blackness met hard, cold icy- blue splinters of sapphire and blinked slowly. '
Are you there? Angelus?'
The dark-haired vampire stood up on trembling legs. He touched his body in wonder, hands trailing unhurriedly over his nakedness. Slowly he moved towards the blonde on the bed and his mouth raised up at one side giving that lop-sided smile that Spike had always loved. Spike eyed him nervously and the dark one noted with satisfaction that his Childe was shivering, apprehensive... so he bloody well should be.
Spike swallowed hard and whispered hoarsely 'Angelus... is it you?'
The smile widened and the dark one reached out and grabbed his Childe firmly by the throat before leaning over and kissing him roughly on the mouth. Thawing Spike backwards onto the bed, Angelus straightened and licked his lips, his hand absentmindedly tweaking one of his nipples, pondering his Childe's features. After a moment he slid onto the bed beside Spike and pulled the blonde to him roughly, kissing him again and laughing harshly.
'Get ready for some pain, boy. Daddy's home.'
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LA.
Finally, LA.
Slayer had made it after all - she hadn't counted on making it... if the vamps hadn't got her she thought perhaps grief would.
Sitting stony-faced, exhausted, destroyed on the Greyhound taking her to LA, to Angel... Taking her away from *them*.
((This is the crack team that spoils my every plan? I am deeply shamed...))
The details were still sketchy; her concentration non-existent. As soon as she tried to think, to work things out, to plan... well, they were there in her thoughts.
Giles, Xander, Riley, her mother...
((Fangy goodness...))
Slayer giggled hysterically, tears filling her eyes with an eagerness she could never have dreamed existed.
Buffy had faced many trials as a Slayer; had lost people she loved, had been in grave danger... hell, had even died once! But nothing had prepared her for this.
It was ironic, she thought, that after all she had been through with Angel... Angelus... knowing what a monster he was, what he had done in the past, what he *could* have done to her when he had turned again... it was ironic that the apocalypse that now posed as her life could have been caused by someone other than he. Even more ironic that it been masterminded by his Blood-Childe - Ahhh, Angelus had been such a good teacher. Buffy had never believed any other being capable of the pure evil that had been Angelus, but she had been wrong.
Her biggest mistake?
Spike.
She had *seriously* underestimated Spike.
((I'm sayin' that Spike had a little trip to the vet, and now he doesn't chase the other puppies anymore...))
In retrospect Buffy supposed she could be forgiven for that - he had played her *so* well. Spike had been the ultimate in Trojan Horses.
But in the end, the fault lay with her, she knew that - her and her stupid pride, her and her stupid jokes at the blonde vampire's expense, her believing she had the advantage, that the vampire was now subject to her rules, her *say so*.
((Doesn't Spike get it? This is my town now...))
The Initiative's little toy had been foiled and now Spike was free... free and with a whole new agenda.
((I get this spell reversed, they'll be finding your body for weeks...))
William the Bloody had never towed the line for anyone, not even Angelus. Who the hell did she think she was that he would tow the line for *her*?
((Oh, make a move. Please. I'm dying for a good slay...))
Make a move... she had even said please. Spike had never been one to disappoint when it came to matters of death.
((Be careful what you wish for...))
And so Spike the Bloody, Spike the Trojan Horse, Spike the murdering bastard had given her what she had wished for like some fuckin' evil fairy with fangs, and now she wasn't dying for a good slay, she was just dying... dying inside... everything, everybody gone.
No more Scoobys, no more Watcher, no more witches, no more...
((Mommy... I want my mommy...))
Mother.
But at least there was LA. LA and Angel.
Slayer had believed that, believed that with all her heart right up to the second that he took her in his arms; right up to the second that he held her as she wept... wept for her mother, her friends, her lover; right up to the moment Angel had told her it would be...
((It's OK baby... I'll take care of you ...))
OK.
Until he had slipped his hand between her legs, squeezing cruelly, large fingers probing, and she had looked into those eyes of his, the eyes of Death and seen...
((Yeah, I'm back baby!))
Angelus.
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Angelus smiled to himself as he stood on the roof top. Darkness was now complete and night reigned.
Oh yes. A clever one, that Childe of his.
Angel had been completely fooled. He wasn't to know that the chip disabling Spike was long gone... He never knew the lengths Spike was prepared to go to in order to have Angelus back.
Oh Spikey loved him, of that there was no doubt. Angelus was his dark lord, his Sire, his master, his lover.
So there you have it - the lust thing again.
Lust had toppled the Angel when all else had failed...
Again.
Well, to Spike's way of thinking lust had worked before, why not again? Only *this* time, his boy made sure there were no meddling witches, no meddling Slayerettes to fuck things up again.
Good doggy.
Tired of his musing and pondering, Angelus was ready to go back inside and see how Slayer was holding up before he headed downtown with his Childer for some sport and food.
He hadn't quite made up his mind what he was gonna do with the little bitch.
It had been fun at first; there had been four days of glorious screaming while he tortured her; four days of screaming and fucking and begging... then some more screaming.
But now the screaming had stopped.
Now Slayer was silent.
Oh, she still wept... huge, silent tears from those baby blues. He had decided against gouging them out; he wanted her to see him during every sweet second of agony that he inflicted on her now broken body.
But now the fun was gone; his toy was broken and it was time to move on, find a new diversion.
Angelus hesitated as a dark shadow moved towards him. Ahhhhh, his new dark princess... what a beautiful vampire she made - had got Spikey all jealous... gonna have to watch the boy, he'll stake her as soon as my back is turned. Angelus held out his hand to his princess, drawing her to him.
'Cordelia, don't you look beautiful tonight.' The dark-haired vampire raised her hand to his lips.
'Angelus... Cordy wants a treat... Can I have a treat?' The vampiress moved close to Angelus, rubbing her slim body against his sensuously and purring.
Angelus raised an eyebrow and the girl smiled.
'It's the Watcher... Can I have him, Angelus... I want to play.'
The dark one smiled indulgently. Cordelia had turned out *so* well. He was eagerly waiting to see if she would retain her Seer's ability now that she had been turned. She reminded him of Drusilla in a way... a sane Drusilla. What a tasty little morsel she was.
Angelus sighed.
Oh dear, he did tend to spoil his Childer... but Cordelia played so well, it was always very entertaining... lot's of screaming.
Angelus had given his new princess the vampire-hunter, Gunn, as a present. The music that Cordelia had created, the symphony of pain that the vampiress had played on the black man's body was exquisite. Cordelia's transition from Prom Queen to Mistress of Pain was a joy to behold. Still, Angelus mused, there were lots of tricks left for him to teach her; so many octaves of screaming still to reach... Cordelia would be his Unholy Diva.
'Now sweetheart, we discussed this. Wesley belongs to Spike.'
Cordelia pouted 'Ohhhh I know. But when Spike's finished... Then can I have him? Please? Please, Sire?'
Angelus laughed harshly 'Honey... By the time old Spike's through with him there won't be anything left worth having, but I tell you what - let's get you a new toy tonight, I know this beautiful blonde cop...'
Taking his new princess by the arm, Angelus moved towards the door leading inside.
Suppertime.
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Just one last thing about lust.
It has a bedfellow - Jealousy.
Where there is lust inevitably jealousy rears its ugly little snout. You see, the problem with jealousy is that is doesn't play well with others.
This circle of events had all started with Finn.
Finn and his new obsession.
Finn and Spike. He'd been a good boy. He had deactivated Spike's chip. He'd stayed in Sunnydale waiting eagerly for his Sire's return.
It never happened. Making his way to LA he soon discovered why.
Angelus.
Angel had possessed Buffy and now Angelus had taken Spike from him.
This had all started with Finn.
So...
When Finn staked Angelus on his way back from the rooftop with Cordelia... well, then it all ended with Finn as well.
Poetic justice, wouldn't you say?
THE END.