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sparklebutchTitle: Sunlight Through The Shutters
Fandom: Buffy, Angel
Pairing: Angel/Spike
Prompt: sun, from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
oxoniensis' Porn Battle V
They watch through the protected, darkened windows, watch the bright day outside. They've watched since early hours, and the sun is high up in the sky by now.
Angel sighs and turns away.
"You wouldn't have traded it for the world," Spike says, almost resentful.
"What?"
The tilt of Spike's head says, don't play dumb. His quirked mouth says, "Unlife. This, us. Vampirism."
Angel leans against the edge of his desk. "Are you saying you don't miss the sun?"
Spike turns and walks away from the windows.
After a beat, Angel draws the curtains shut and follows him.
In the near-darkness of Angel's bedroom the atmosphere is similar to that of a crypt, but with expensive furniture and a marginally nicer smell. Within moments Spike is nude, slipping between cool sheets; his hair is a bright, pale spot in the room, as if beckoning. Angel hesitates. Standing in the doorway, he casts one last look back into the dim living room.
"Come on over here," Spike says, and his eyes glint golden in the dark.
"Don't tell me what to do," is Angel's reflexive reply, but he does come over, sits on the edge of the bed. He runs his hand under the covers, over Spike's cool bare skin. Spike grins toothily when Angel starts unbuttoning his shirt.
"That gonna take much longer?" he asks after two seconds and three buttons.
"Yes," Angel says, if only to be contrary.
He regrets it not a heartbeat later, not that there are any heartbeats in the room. His beloved shirt, purple so dark it's black in almost any light, is now a tattered, unsalvageable heap on the blanket. Spike is sitting up, and his grin is expectant, eager.
"You know," Angel mutters, "it's just not the same when you try to make me angry."
Spike shrugs. "I could go out, kill some nuns. That would make you feel better?"
"No," Angel says, and pounces.
They're tangled, snarling and gnashing teeth and Angel's always heavier, bigger. Stronger. Or maybe Spike just isn't trying very hard today, aside from some well-aimed kicks and a punch or two. Angel has him pinned down in no time.
"I liked that shirt," he hisses.
"Mmm," Spike answers, eyes half-closed and very evidently not caring about the shirt. Angel leaves him for a moment to take his pants off, and he's not wasting time anymore. Spike doesn't move away, instead stretching languidly on the covers, dick pointing upwards. Angel doesn't need light to see it darkening with blood. He resists the temptation. It's always better that way, in the end.
Instead, he growls. "You'll pay for this," he threatens.
"You bloody poof, it was only a - " Spike's dismissive answer is cut short when he's flipped over, facing down and ass in the air and Angel's hand connects with it, using great velocity and much enthusiasm.
Spike squirms and thrashes, but Angel has him by the scruff and isn't letting go.
"Ge' off me, you ponce!"
But Angel doesn't. He just goes on until Spike ceases moving, and cursing. Only when Spike's legs fall apart, Angel stops. It's worth it for the reaction.
"Oi, why d'ya stop?!"
Every time. Angel smiles to himself and slaps Spike's behind one more time, an emphasis to the silence that comes after. No more words after this punctuation mark in flesh, just quiet moaning and Spike waits.
Almost patiently.
There's some fidgeting involved.
Angel hurries for the lubricant. He could keep this up all day, but why bother. They both want it. Toying with Spike's suspense is a fun game for long, lazy days, but today Angel just wants to fuck. Now.
Without too much preparation he slides his cock into Spike; ready and practiced, the younger vampire opens up easily, and Angel sets a hard rhythm. It's like an old game they've both played before, holed up during long, sunny days; an old game where they both know the rules, and they both win in the end. Angel's teeth in Spike's shoulder and his hand rough and tight around Spike's cock, and everything else in the world doesn't exist except their skin, their muscles, each other and the bed. Angel rides his William, and Spike bares his throat to his sire.
When they open their eyes, hours later, the sun is gone. Evening has fallen, and they are in each other's arms, shrouded in darkness.
Fandom: Buffy, Angel
Pairing: Angel/Spike
Prompt: sun, from
oxoniensis' Porn Battle VThey watch through the protected, darkened windows, watch the bright day outside. They've watched since early hours, and the sun is high up in the sky by now.
Angel sighs and turns away.
"You wouldn't have traded it for the world," Spike says, almost resentful.
"What?"
The tilt of Spike's head says, don't play dumb. His quirked mouth says, "Unlife. This, us. Vampirism."
Angel leans against the edge of his desk. "Are you saying you don't miss the sun?"
Spike turns and walks away from the windows.
After a beat, Angel draws the curtains shut and follows him.
In the near-darkness of Angel's bedroom the atmosphere is similar to that of a crypt, but with expensive furniture and a marginally nicer smell. Within moments Spike is nude, slipping between cool sheets; his hair is a bright, pale spot in the room, as if beckoning. Angel hesitates. Standing in the doorway, he casts one last look back into the dim living room.
"Come on over here," Spike says, and his eyes glint golden in the dark.
"Don't tell me what to do," is Angel's reflexive reply, but he does come over, sits on the edge of the bed. He runs his hand under the covers, over Spike's cool bare skin. Spike grins toothily when Angel starts unbuttoning his shirt.
"That gonna take much longer?" he asks after two seconds and three buttons.
"Yes," Angel says, if only to be contrary.
He regrets it not a heartbeat later, not that there are any heartbeats in the room. His beloved shirt, purple so dark it's black in almost any light, is now a tattered, unsalvageable heap on the blanket. Spike is sitting up, and his grin is expectant, eager.
"You know," Angel mutters, "it's just not the same when you try to make me angry."
Spike shrugs. "I could go out, kill some nuns. That would make you feel better?"
"No," Angel says, and pounces.
They're tangled, snarling and gnashing teeth and Angel's always heavier, bigger. Stronger. Or maybe Spike just isn't trying very hard today, aside from some well-aimed kicks and a punch or two. Angel has him pinned down in no time.
"I liked that shirt," he hisses.
"Mmm," Spike answers, eyes half-closed and very evidently not caring about the shirt. Angel leaves him for a moment to take his pants off, and he's not wasting time anymore. Spike doesn't move away, instead stretching languidly on the covers, dick pointing upwards. Angel doesn't need light to see it darkening with blood. He resists the temptation. It's always better that way, in the end.
Instead, he growls. "You'll pay for this," he threatens.
"You bloody poof, it was only a - " Spike's dismissive answer is cut short when he's flipped over, facing down and ass in the air and Angel's hand connects with it, using great velocity and much enthusiasm.
Spike squirms and thrashes, but Angel has him by the scruff and isn't letting go.
"Ge' off me, you ponce!"
But Angel doesn't. He just goes on until Spike ceases moving, and cursing. Only when Spike's legs fall apart, Angel stops. It's worth it for the reaction.
"Oi, why d'ya stop?!"
Every time. Angel smiles to himself and slaps Spike's behind one more time, an emphasis to the silence that comes after. No more words after this punctuation mark in flesh, just quiet moaning and Spike waits.
Almost patiently.
There's some fidgeting involved.
Angel hurries for the lubricant. He could keep this up all day, but why bother. They both want it. Toying with Spike's suspense is a fun game for long, lazy days, but today Angel just wants to fuck. Now.
Without too much preparation he slides his cock into Spike; ready and practiced, the younger vampire opens up easily, and Angel sets a hard rhythm. It's like an old game they've both played before, holed up during long, sunny days; an old game where they both know the rules, and they both win in the end. Angel's teeth in Spike's shoulder and his hand rough and tight around Spike's cock, and everything else in the world doesn't exist except their skin, their muscles, each other and the bed. Angel rides his William, and Spike bares his throat to his sire.
When they open their eyes, hours later, the sun is gone. Evening has fallen, and they are in each other's arms, shrouded in darkness.
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no subject
Date: 2008-01-19 07:29 pm (UTC)