Title: Knowing

Author: Sofia (sofiamneto@hotmail.com)

Summary: Angel, Spike. Sex. Angel POV – as always. Maybe a little more than just a PWP, though that was the initial objective.

Distribution: Sure – just let me know.

Feedback: Do I really need to ask?

Author's note: Unbeta'd. This fic was the answer to a self-imposed challenge: “you will write a fic in a day and post it as it is without having a coronary”. I apologize for any mistakes.

Disclaimer: If they were mine, I would be too busy to write.

Dedication: A gift for Xana – ‘cause she’s the best.

He doesn’t know how he got here.

Doesn’t know and doesn’t care.

All he can think about is the way his entire being is on fire, desire thrumming through every fibber and bringing with it that clarity that’s only attained when you recognize what you want – and you chose to take it without pausing to consider the consequences. You take it because you can. You have the will and you have the power. And you don’t care if it is *wrong*.

Fucks the boy’s mouth, straddling his chest and just forcing him to take it, tight throat clenching around him as he swallows his seed

~~ Sire seed ~~

Stumbles back, spent. Rests against the headboard and watches the boy.

*His* boy.

Fucking beautiful. His eyes are closed and he’s lost in his own pleasure, breathing harshly, tongue darting over his lips to catch the last drops.

That single movement has him hard again. Impossible to resist, the unconscious gesture an invitation, an offer. A confirmation.

Places his large hands into that strong chest with a proprietor’s assurance. This is *his*.

To have and to hold.

To beat and to fuck.

To kill and to love.

Scratches the flawless skin lightly with his short nails and feels the lean body arch up from the bed seeking more. *Needing* more. Leans over and captures one nipple in his mouth. Licks it and sucks gently before biting down. Hard. Hears the cry. Low rumble of laughter in this chest, murmured voice. “Cry for me, boy.”

Gulps down the blood

~~ Childe blood ~~

Not enough.

Parts Spike's legs with rough gestures and thrusts inside. Brutally. The scent of fresh blood hits his nostrils. Heaven. Draws back almost completely and buries himself to the hilt again. Grunts his pleasure. Senses the vibration that signals a response.

Lies down on top of the boy's trembling body and holds him still. Captures the fair head in both hands. Because he needs to know.

"Will... look at me."

Midnight eyes stare into his, peering down into his soul, that knowing gaze never leaving him as he starts to move once again, gently at first but with steadily increasing speed.

Knows this body like his own. Knows his scent, knows his taste. Knows that if he positions himself just so he’ll be rewarded with a moan. Hands fly to his back urging him on. Hips rise matching his tempo and his body moves of his own volition now, the rhythm etched into his muscles by a thousand such nights. It’s like returning home.

His skin tingles with the knowledge that his hunger is not the only one being sated here. Madness to abandon himself to this pleasure so completely.

And as the midnight eyes finally fall shut in surrender and he spills himself inside his lover he *knows*, with absolute certainty, he's not leaving. Ever. Again.

~~ Finis ~~