Title: La Petite Morte
Author: Foxhunt2blue
Summary: Together they are never alone.
Rating: NC-17 
Pairing: Spike/Angel
Spoilers: None for the show
Disclaimer: Our wonderful Joss created 
them I had nothing to do with it---wish I 
had. I just play with the boys on occasion. 
I on the other hand claim anyone you don't 
know.
Feedback: Please feed the baby slash ho' it
needs nourishment to grow! ;-)
E-mail: foxhunter2blue@yahoo.com <mailto:foxhunter2blue@yahoo.com>
Website: <http://www.geocities.com/rose_liz2001/Dark_Fantasies.html>
Author's note: This was inspired by an incredible
Spangel pic by SueWorld---what a beautiful piece
of art. This one is also dedicated to my new partners
in crime Salustra and Pet. What a pair! I love you
both for encouraging my dark side. ;-)
****
When he realized that it was more than just blood
he wasn't sure. Perhaps it was in that moment 
when his lover touched him as no other could.
Smooth cool silk beneath him---above him the
same, but beneath was the hardness of muscle,
sinew, and bone.
He wanted to be consumed by that coolness and
to become one with it. A cold fire that burned him
in the night just as the light of day could burn him to
ash. A flame so beautiful and unique in it's perfection
that there was only one---there would be no other.
Parting his thighs he pulled his lover closer, his fingers
grasping at sleek dark hair, and the curve of a rib cage
that cradled lungs no longer used. A heart that had long
ago ceased to beat, yet still understood love.
His leg lifted---thigh muscle flexing---curling around his
lovers thigh as if to say 'Come closer'.
Soft sighs escaped his throat as lips smooth as marble
trailed along the tendons of his neck. His lover's hand
with long slender fingers curled around the curve of his
ass cheek pulling him closer. Fingers splayed against 
his marble skin---massaging and squeezing.
Between their cool bodies the first embers of desire
grew. Their cocks swelling with the need they both 
felt. He hissed at the contact, then moaned as his lover
shifted his hips.
Each explored the other for it had been far too long 
since they had touched. Decades---more than a century
parted this moment from the last. This time though there
was far more to share.
In the past it had been about family and dominance.
Now it was about family and something far greater.
They had both changed.
No longer was he the soft, spoken poet who had been
embraced by a dark-eyed doll.
His lover was no longer the vicious killer who had taught
him the ways of the hunt. Who had laid waste to entire
villages by the side of a petite blonde, blue-eyed devil
who could pass for innocence with but a lowering of her
lashes.
The dark-eyed doll had tossed him away when she tired
of playing with him. His lover's blue-eyed devil had been
scattered on the warm winds of a California night. And
so it seemed they were all that remained of a family who 
had once feed upon the innocent, the young, even the not
so innocent and the old. 
Their thirst now was not for the blood of others, but for
that of each other. 
Grandsire and childe.
Linked by blood, by the past, and by the deepest truth.
Limbs intertwined, bodies linked together in a dance as
ancient as the oldest of their kind, but there were no 
others like them. Even amongst their kind they were
different. Something to be feared. 
He had chose his path in hopes of being loved. To be
treated as though he were man and not a monster.
His lover had been cursed because of his deep hatred
for all he had once been. Because of his inability to love
and his need to destroy.
Two eternal beings cursed in their own way.
Cursed to walk among the humans, yet never truly belong
in their world. 
In each others arms they found what they both needed
even more than the blood that nourished them. 
His back bowed as his lover took him---impaling him
with a mix of pain and pleasure. Legs trembling he en-
circled his lover's thrusting hips as he moaned in need.
There was no need for words---not between them---
for they had surpassed words long ago. With but a
simple glance or the lightest of caresses against pale,
cool skin they spoke to one another.
A rhythm was formed. Together they were as one 
and their souls soared. 
His voice rose in a keening wail as his lover's cool
fingers wrapped around the smooth steel curve of
his cock and stroked. His lover's voice rose as well
in a deep roar---the roar of the stormy ocean's waves
on the rocky shore.
Like their bodies, their voices intertwined. The voices 
of centuries past and yet to come. Together they reach-
ed the peak of no return and if their hearts had beat
perhaps the would have stopped. Stopped in that one
moment when they were no longer two outcasts, but
two human souls soaring.
His last thoughts as his body trembled with it's powerful
release was of something he had once heard.
As his lover came deep inside him---fingers tangled in
bleached golden white locks---he wept. His lover's 
incisors pierced his throat drinking from his body just
as he gave him this moment.
A moment the French called la petite morte---the little 
death.
For his lover he would suffer anything if but to feel one
more death at the hands of his master---his lover.
"Angel...," he sighed.
The End