Dear Boy -- Revisited

by Saber ShadowKitten
Revisited II 4

Angel stalked to the door of the room he'd chosen as his to answer the annoyingly persistent knock. He'd told Wesley and Cordelia that he didn't want to be bothered again. He'd though his words had been specific and enunciated clearly. Maybe he should have used semaphore.

The continuous rap of knuckles on the opposite side of the door echoed in his head, and he growled. He grabbed the doorknob, gave it a violent twist and yanked the door open. "I told you to leave me...," Angel faltered when he saw who was in the hallway,"...alone."

Spike shrugged and started to leave. "Whatever you want, mate."

Angel shot out the door, and he and Spike went down in a tangle of arms and legs and teeth. Angel gripped the back of Spike's blond hair and he immediately set on plundering his childe's mouth. His body blanketed Spike's, pinning the younger vampire to the hall floor.

Gods, he tastes good, Angel thought, his tongue sweeping against Spike's. For weeks, Angel had been unfulfilled, tormented with erotic dreams courtesy of and starring Darla, with only his hand to ease the constant ache.

He'd refused to give in to Darla when she'd so blatantly offered. He'd been tempted; very tempted. After all, he knew how good sex was with his blond-haired sire.

But Darla had ruined her game herself. She'd almost had him. He'd been hard and on edge, from the dreams, from finding her alive. He'd wanted to throw her to the hard old convent floor and bury himself inside her, to relive the past.

Then, Darla'd said too much, and Angel's desire for her had disappeared. She'd tried to tell him that he was evil despite his soul, that he was bad before she had even turned him.

She'd tried to convince him of something that he already knew.

Angel had learned and accepted the fact that it was the man in him, not the demon, that was dark. Spike had taught him that. And Spike was all he needed to control that darkness... and allow that darkness free.

Angel rose up slightly and pawed at the fastenings of Spike's jeans as he continued to ravage his boy's mouth. The coarse carpeting bit into the back of Angel's hand beneath Spike's head, reminding Angel they were still in the hallway.

He could care less.

The buttons on Spike's jeans were stubbornly refusing to give. Angel growled unhappily. He tore away from Spike's cool mouth, pushed himself to his knees and glared at the round offenders. With frightening speed, the dark-haired vampire undid the buttons and yanked the black denim down to Spike's thighs, causing the pale erection that had been hidden beneath to spring free.

Angel focused on that stiff member standing at attention from his boy's prone body. He licked his lips as he grasped the hard length with a firm fist. Spike moaned deep in his chest.

With his other hand, Angel shoved his sweatpants down to his knees. His own manhood was heavy with need, jutting straight from his body. His long shirt draped over it like a nun's habit. But what he was about to use it for was far from pure and holy.

Something registered in the corner of Angel's mind as different as he pushed Spike's legs back and positioned himself, but the thought was lost when he thrust home. His eyes rolled in pleasure at the sensations surrounding his cock.

Angel leaned forward and captured Spike's mouth again, his action pushing the blond's legs further back. The older man thrust his tongue between Spike's parted lips the same time as he drew back his hips and slammed them forward again. Spike's inner muscles spasmed around Angel's length and he clawed at Angel's back through the two layers of shirts.

Angel's kiss caught the whimper his boy made as the dark-haired vampire began a steady thrust. Angel tugged the pulsing member in his hand at the same pace. With every borderline-painful slide in and out of Spike's dry passage, a voice in Angel's mind repeated over and over: "He's home... he's home... he's home... he's home..."

It wasn't long before an orgasm crashed over Angel. His body shook hard as he spilled his cool essence deep inside Spike's bowels. Angel's fist tightened around Spike's manhood and his smooth strokes became short jerks as climax gripped him.

Spike broke the long kiss, turning his head and hissing, "Fuck, Angel." His back arched as far as it could with the older vampire covering him as he reached the peak.

Angel pushed himself up on his hand in order to watch Spike's face contort in pleasure as he climaxed. Ropey strands of off-white fluid shot from Spike's cock and landed on the black tee-shirt he wore.

Angel watched with heavy eyes as Spike tried to catch his unneeded breath after every drop of semen had been milked from him. Eventually, a scowl replaced the post-orgasmic expression, and the blond said, "'Hello' would have sufficed."

Angel burst into laughter. He moved off of Spike, pulled up his sweats and sat back on his heels, still laughing. Spike fixed his jeans and rolled up to his knees, mimicking his sire's position. And Angel was still laughing.

Spike continued to sit there and watch Angel, one brow cocked in question. Finally, Angel calmed and wiped his tear-streaked cheeks. "Sorry. It's been a long couple of weeks."

"Same here," Spike said with a dry smile.

"Hands!" Angel exclaimed abruptly. That's what had been tugging at his mind earlier -- Spike had hands again!

Leaning forward slightly, Angel caught Spike's wrists. With a furrow to his brow, the older vampire carefully examined Spike's hands.

Spike's fingers were longer, thinner; a pianists hands. The nails were square, neatly trimmed, and already covered with chipped black polish. The skin was smooth, uncalloused, and Angel could see dark blue veins beneath the pale surface.

"Everything went okay, I take it?" Angel asked as he looked closer at the puckered white-pink scar that ran around each of Spike's wrists.

"They work well enough," Spike replied with a shrug. "So, I guess, yeah."

Angel released one of the hands and gently ran his finger down the center of Spike's palm. "Do you know how she did it?"

"Not a bloody clue," Spike said. "One minute I'm having a toast with the smiling bint, the next I have hands again."

"I'm glad," Angel said quietly. He placed a soft kiss on Spike's raised palm before letting go and climbing to his feet.

Spike followed Angel into his room. The dark-haired vampire went over to a restored-wood desk and jotted down three room numbers on a notepad. He tore the small sheet off and handed it to Spike.

"You can have any room you'd like except for these three, which are Wesley's, Cordelia's and a guest room," Angel told him. He crossed over to the mini-bar and poured himself a short glass of brandy. "I don't know what, if any, of your things can be salvaged from the tunnel. If you'd like, we can take a ride over there tomorrow night and see."

When Angel turned around, Spike was hovering uncomfortably by the desk, a frown etched across his features. The dark-haired vampire slugged back the drink and watched his childe shifted from foot to foot.

"What is it, Spike?" Angel asked after a minute, setting the glass down.

"You seem different," Spike said cautiously. "Off somehow."

Angel chuckled. "And you seem much happier to be here than you should be, boy."

Fury flashed across Spike's face, and he growled, "I didn't have to come back, you know."

"Then why did you?"

Spike opened his mouth to answer, then snapped it shut before saying a word. He clenched his new hands into fists, shoved them into his pockets, and stalked towards the still-open door.

Angel beat the blond to the door and slammed it shut. The lock was loud and ominous as Angel turned it. He smirked at the angry glare Spike gave him.

In a blink, Angel had Spike pressed against the now-shut-and-locked door and was devouring him. Angel's lips bruised and his teeth cut as he violently pillaged Spike's mouth. He didn't stop his hard assault until his childe joined in, and then he only pulled far enough away to mumble, "Good boy," before returning to the ravaging kiss.

The bed seemed like a million miles away, so Angel just took Spike against the door. Their coupling was fast and furious, and neither one was fully undressed when all was said and done.

Spent, and breathing heavily, albeit unnecessarily, Angel rested his forehead against Spike's and met his childe's sated blue gaze. "I thought I'd never see you again," he confessed softly.

"Yeah, well, I got sick of crawfish," Spike said.

Angel chuckled, pressed a quick kiss to the blond's lips and stepped back. Instead of straightening his clothes, he removed the rest of them and held out his hand to Spike. "Come on. Let's go get comfortable, and then you can fill me in on your small taste of freedom."

"Sheah, like I'm going to go back to being your sub," Spike said, even as he stripped off his clothes. "It ain't gonna happen, mate."

Angel simply smiled.