Title: One More
Author: Lady Dark Star
Email: [email protected]
URL: http://mitglied.lycos.de/dwawards/Lady1.htm
Pairing: S/A
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I do not own the lucious vampires I want to ravish....and neither do I own the song I used, "One More" by Journey.
Authors Note: I was listening to the song, and it just reminded me of the relationship between Angelus/Spike...so here it is...
*****
~wicked prophets kill by speaking his name...~
Angry eyes tracked his movements with unmeasured predators lust.
"You’re leavin’." It was a statement, nothing more, but
it carried fierce emotional undertones.
~In the glory of an innocent age a king is born to a house filled with rage,
one mans fear is another mans truth, one fear...~
"I have to." A silent plea to discontinue the conversation to come.
~The blind suffer at the hands of sin lines are drawn where the boundaries begin,
ten thousand broken, by the madness within, broken...~
"No mate, you have to avoid the sun, you have to drink blood to survive,
you don’t have to leave Angelus." Spike’s voice shook ever so
slightly.
"I can’t stay here, kill, and destroy myself in the process."
Angel retrieved a simple carved box from the covers of his bed. He stood, staring
at it for a moment, his hands shaking.
~One more cry in the night....~
The box slid from his grasp, the catching falling open, spilling the contents
onto the bed linens.
~One more war left to fight...~
Glasses, his glasses, the ones that he had thought had been lost when...Spike’s
eyes met the deep brown depths of his Sire’s. They were unbroken, though
it had been many years since he had the need to wear them. They rested wrapped
in a ribbon...a dark blue ribbon that had held back his hair...and the ribbon
held a tattered book of ...hand written poetry.
~One life...cut down by fire....~
"I didn’t know you kept mementos Sire." His voice was full of
pride, and anxiety. As if he didn’t know to be proud that his Sire wanted
these things that had been his last possessions as he died, or that he was taking
them with him to remember his childe by.
~One child’s angry desire....~
Angel’s eyes bored into Spike’s...a maelstrom of emotion swirling
through the cosmic depths. His nostrils flared slight and he smelled arousal.
It would figure that his childe would be turned on at a point like this.
Spike reached forward, plucking the glasses up, placing them on his nose with
practiced ease. His long brown hair, that hadn’t been constrained since
his death, was quickly tied in the ribbon. Spike grinned as he picked up the
book of poetry, thumbing through the pages, grimacing.
"What will it be luv’? Cecily’s Final Acquiescence? Depths of
Her Hair?"
Angelus groaned, stepping back, the vulnerability still flowed off him in waves
whenever he channeled William....whenever he acted meek, docile....Angel clenched
his fists.
"No." He spoke through gritted teeth.
~Hearts of stone, pride without shame....~
"Remember the first time Angelus?" Spike’s voice sinuously whispered,
he removed the glasses placing them back down, shaking his hair free of its
confines.
Angel refused to answer.
"The first time you saw me....the first time you took me? The first time....and
I fought you." Spike growled.
~Wicked prophets kill while speaking his name...as the heavens fall from the
sky...~
Angel closed his eyes, the smell of the alleyway permeating his senses, the
terse breathing of his victim making his demon’s blood race.
"I begged you....I told you that I was a good Christian...and you told
me that even the Priests killed for God...and then you....you demon from hell....convinced
me that you were an Angel...taking me in my time....and I submitted to you.
I submitted Angelus." Spike’s voice was the lyrical poet that he had
never been, his demon fueling his power, his illustration of dominion, death,
and desire complete.
~Brother to brother...blood on their hands...desolation in the kingdom of man...~
"You took me in that alleyway, tearing into my virgin ass, making me beg
for it...and you woke me that night....you woke me as I am today. The power
that is yours coursing through my veins....do you remember my first kill Angelus?
How we gave into the carnal pleasures that as good Catholics we’d been
warned against? How you came down my throat as I sucked you to climax? Or how
you groaned and told me, ‘Ye a perfect childe William...’, and then
came allover yourself again?"
~Holy vengeance is a justice of hell...mercy mercy...~
Angel felt the blood start to drip from his palms as his nails dug into his
pale skin.His soul ached at the paintings drawn by his lover, his childe, his
friend. Yet as any human, as any souled creature he ached to give in to the
sin, to give in, give over, give his body up to Molech, Ba’al, any Pagan
God that would have him to end the torture that he felt at the one death of
a girl, the torture he felt at the pictures pleasuring his mind.
~One more...cry in the night...one more...war left to fight...one life...cut
down by fire...one child’s angry desire...~
Suddenly Spike was right there, against him, pressing his hard cock against
Angelus’s thigh.
"One more." He murmured, whispering in his Sire’s ear.
Angelus reached up, crashing his lips down onto Spike’s mouth, taking dominion
much like he did that night so many years ago.
Spike groaned in appreciation, his arousal rocketing...willing to do anything
to please his Sire...anything to get him to stay. He didn’t fight it when
Angelus pushed him to his knees, thrusting his cock in front of his face with
demanding attention, he didn’t fight the gagging he felt when Angelus’s
balls slapped against his face.
He didn’t fight this time.
~One more...wings of fire...drums of thunder....~
They tumbled onto the bed when Angelus came, crushing the memorabilia beneath
them, the cross that had been in the box, Drusillas last relic, searing into
their flesh, and they howled with the pleasure of the pain as their teeth clashed,
as they bit, tore, and fucked mercilessly.
~No more no more no more~
Spike finally awoke when his body demanded movement, groaning as he rolled over
to snuggle into his lover...only to find the empty space. His fists clenched
the coverlets...tears streaming down his pale cheeks.
Lying on Angelus’s pillow, was a charcoal drawing, of him...holding Spike
within his arms. Spike’s trembling fingertips traced their naked forms.
He clutched his Sire’s pillow crying his pain into it....the drawing falling
to the floor.
~ One more...cry in the night...one more... war left to fight...one more...one
life cut down by fire...one child’s angry desire...one more...one more....one...~
The End
