Author: Ann of Midnight
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the shows I borrowed characters from…
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Angel/Methos SLASH
Distribution: Let me know.
Spoilers: Post Angel season 3, Buffy season 6 and I guess, Highlander, Endgame.
Feedback: I live for it.
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It’s like there’s a sodding convention in town or something. Every two fucking blocks I run into another. It’s bloody embarrassing. I feel like they know. They just look at me and they know I’m not a threat. Some of them must smell the soul. I want to throw up, and it’s not just the god-awful sewer stench.
It is so *hard*, taking my time with this. I just want to take *him*.
I want to possess him as I once did.
How long has it really been? More than a century, I’m sure. I was still Doctor Adams back then. I was for more than a hundred years.
I kiss his skin lightly around his neck and he shudders. I’m going to draw this out, because I need to work him until he looses it completely. If he didn’t kill me on the boat, knowing full well I’d recover, it’s going to take a lot to get him to kill me now. If there were any other way, well, I would probably choose this one, because it’s far more pleasant. I continue touching him, knowing it’s not nearly enough, knowing I’m torturing myself as well.
How long has it been, since I’ve known him? How long has it been since he walked into a society party years after his death, a woman on each arm? How long has it been since our eyes caught and our adventure began?
How long has it been since I’ve had him withering under me? Begging me? Knowing me?
Too long, it seems, and I want to be inside him now. I want to taste him and own him as I once did; as he possessed me; my soul, my thoughts and my secrets.
I bite his shoulder lightly, and he moves to give me better access. Ah. I could get lost in him.
I’ve already been here too long. I have to remember where I am. It must be around noon, out there.
I may as bloody well sit down and have a bloody drink, seeing as I’m in a bar and all. Met with some people that know people since I saw the poofs get taken away. Turns out Wolfram and Hart are not the calibre of foes I’m used to dealing with, so I’m having a bloody drink. Actually, it’s not bloody. It’s just a drink and I want a bloody drink, with blood. Barkeep tells me he ain’t holding, and I can’t do sod all about it. He doesn’t tell me I can’t do sod all about it, that’s the part I put in, because I can’t do shite. I should be shot.
So I guess I’m pissed. Not pissed like pissed off, pissed like drunk, because I’m talking to myself like someone’s bloody listening.
I should have known better not to ‘ave had a drink in every place I stopped at. But you know, it’s gotta be the soul, trying to get me to be polite. Not too bright to be this far gone. I’m hitting the spots that have a sewer entrance because it’s daytime, I’m knackered and pissed and from the looks of it, I’m asking the wrong questions. There is no possible way this’ll end well. Maybe I’m asking for it. Maybe I want to fight, as long as whatever it is isn’t human, but I can’t get myself to start a fight.
I have another shot to dull the ache the soul has ‘blessed’ me with. What am I supposed to do now? Look for clues at the Hotel? Play Johnny rescue-worker by myself? Go to Sunnyhell to ask for help? I need another shot. I’m not nearly pissed enough to consider that. Blimey, get me two more, and keep ‘em comin’. Oh, right, should say that out loud.
“Get me two more, and keep ‘em comin’”
Shite’s gotta be watered down. Beer chaser tastes like piss. I remember not too long ago, sitting outside in a small Mexican town with Drucilla, just listening to her chatter and drinking my luke-warm Sol beer. I killed the barkeep for not stockin’ up on Negra Modelo. Tosser probably wanted to give me tourista with all the all the water he put in the sol. Ah. I remember his screams.
“No, no, no,” bugger it all to hell, now everyone’s lookin’ my way and my head hurts from where I smashed it into the wall. There’s a head-shaped dent I’ll no doubt be paying for.
I don’t want to remember his screams, because I know how he must have felt. Because I’m not evil anymore. I’m nothing. I can’t hurt humans, I can’t think up diabolical plans and get so antsy to get on with them I throw them out the window and in Sunnyhell at least, fuck up. I can’t be a vampire anymore. I’m not a human. I’m a freak of something other than nature. Why me?
“Give me two more you ugly ox.” Damn, that second part wasn’t supposed to come out.
I raise an amused eyebrow and watch the barman’s face soften. Good. He thinks I’m kidding. I don’t know how that’s possible; has he looked in the mirror lately? He’s all hair and gut and brown teeth. I want a bloody cigarette so badly but I can’t step outside there being sunlight and all. Sodding L.A. and its new age ideas. ‘Cigarettes kill!’ Vampires kill. Cigarettes can reduce life expectancy. Big ‘fucking whoop. That doesn’t even apply to us immortal folk. What’s the point in having a drink if you can’t smoke?
I need to beat someone. A lot.
His body is heating up where our skin is touching. I can feel it. He’s playing dead too. Trying his hardest not to move. I get closer, so my body is flush against his. This way, I can rub against his hard buttocks innocently, the way an unsure lover would.
My hand finds his hardness under the sheets. My breath catches. A low rumble seems to emanate from his entire body. I keep nuzzling his neck, taking in his scent, nibbling where I can.
He’s painfully hard, as I am, and oozing pre-cum everywhere. How long has it been for him? I wonder. Is he as insatiable as he was when he was soulless?
There are so many questions, and no possible way to get answers in this posh prison.
Ah. Gods. I think I’m moaning. He’s just put his big hand on my backside and thrust me hard against him. Mmm. The sheets are coming off, and damned if I care. I’m hot and I want to *see* him so badly. I have to.
So I stand up and look at the God on the mattress. Sprawled out in anticipation. He looks excited, and worried and anxious, and when my gaze moves down, his cock twitches.
I’m going to make him scream.
Lilah couldn’t believe what was happening. Was she not the boss? Why could she enjoy this sweet victory?
“Pass the chips,” her blond haired assistant asked her.
She did as she was asked.
“Who thinks he vampire will make him stop?”
“I do!” A creepy looking older man answered, passing money down the line.
They exchanged money in front of Lilah, and her assistant tried to get her to participate.
“Come on Lilah! Be our friend.” Her assistant, who she called Blondie because she couldn’t remember her name, batted her eyelashes at her like she thought it might succeed.
“Do any of you remember where we work?” Lilah questioned.
“Party pooper!” One of the scientists spoke up. “And speaking of come, which one of them is blowing their load first?”
“Eww. And the vampire,” a young Asian woman shyly put her money on the table and blushed.
“I second that eww, but I’m taking the student,” the research department supervisor anteed-up.
Lilah rolled her eyes and downed the vodka she had in her water bottle. The chatter was really getting to her. She had work to do. And was this not her private office…
“Oh, look at him!” Said the blond, eying Methos.
“I’m looking,” the obviously gay man from the transcribing department fanned himself. “I change my mind. I like him better.”
“Me too honey. Damn, how did we miss how fine he was?” An older woman asked the group that had gather in Lilah’s office to watch.
“Don’t you all have work to do?” Lilah asked them curtly.
7 of them. 7 freakin’ people had found their way to her office.
“We’re on lunch Lilah. You know that.”
“Great,” she said, gritting her teeth.
Her assistant was so standoffish when it came to work. Almost scared, but she looked at ease now, like she was watching the game with her friends. She couldn’t exactly blame them. They had cameras, but the monitors were small and you couldn’t eat in that room. In this private office, however, she could do anything she wanted, and she had the very best view. The largest two way mirror across the room from the lovers.
Ah. She was going to have to work off some of this tension soon.
“Who’s betting he bites?” Lilah reluctantly got in on the action.
“I’ll take that.”
It’s dark, but I can see all I need to. The odds are on my side that no one will catch on that I sport no injuries, I tell myself. I normally don’t take bets like this, but Angelus makes me want to… I think this idly as I feel the layers of my persona peel away. I haven’t had many moments like this.
My eyes are devouring his body, while his are sewn shut. He’s lying on his back, has one leg up in a relaxed pose, but I can see he is sitting on his hands. I can see he wants to touch himself, badly.
I remember his feet are sensitive as my gaze slowly moves up; calves, thighs like a cyclist, abs and pecks and shoulders. Those beautiful big broad shoulders I want to hang onto… And his mouth, and his concerned forehead.
I stare at him until he opens his eyes to look at me.
Just like that, he comes. With only a look.
He’s convulsing, head cocked back from the force of his orgasm. Must have been a long time since he’s had one, because it goes on and on and on.
I see his game face come forth and I cast my eyes down, because I need Adam back on before I do something really stupid, like start talking.
Oh it bloody well better not be! If that is the same Chaos demon that took my Dru away I may just have to rip off his head. It’s all his fault. It’s Angelus’ fault for coming back a psychopath that needed to be dealt with and this slimy bastard’s fault for putting idea’s into Drucilla’s head.
Same amount of antlers.
Turn around so I can see you precious.
“Just give me the bottle.” I tell the ugly human when he comes to fill up my Jack shooters. I throw him some money because I may have to split fast and I ain’t no welcher.
Bracken demon next to me is lookin’ that waste of space’s way too.
“Friend of yours?”
“Hardly.”
“Know ‘im?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Has he been down in South America in the last couple of years?”
“Maybe.”
“Want to kick his arse?”
“We’re peaceful demons.”
“Not what I asked mate. You want to kick his arse?”
“Hell yes.” The demon gets up. I put my coat on and follow him across the bar. Day’s lookin’ up, maybe I’ll even get lucky and get to follow that Lilah woman home tonight. Ew. Don’t like how that sounded.
Can’t wait to hear the bones breaking. Ah, yeah!
I think I might be blushing. All I want is to shove his legs up and slam into him. I want him to remember, to feel.
Before he comes down completely, I look around, feigning embarrassment and spoon up behind him again, hiding my face in the pillow. I wish I could see his face, look in his eyes, show my strength but I can’t. Adam Pierson could have kinks, but he has to be innocent enough to make this believable.
I’m trying to convey how I still feel about him after all these years, but somehow I doubt kissing, nibbling and sucking on his neck with some hard exploring of his body with my hand is even remotely adequate. I coat my fingers with the viscous fluid that splashed his stomach and move slowly to stay in character. He doesn’t stop me; he even lets me manipulate his left leg into a more suitable position and arches his back when I play with his backside.
Two fingers slide in slowly and I have to turn my head into the pillow to smile. Ah yesssss. I'm sure he's hard again, and the familiar noises he makes make a tired old man feel like he’s coming home. It only takes the third finger before he’s growling and I know how frustrated he is. I’m preparing him like he’s human, like he doesn’t appreciate pain.
His paw finds my ass again and thrusts me forward. That’ll work.
Very small coat of saliva to satisfy onlookers and three seconds later I am sheathed to the maximum. I try to remember to speak English. But I’m afraid that’s not what came out. Even with total recall, I forgot how this feels.
I get flashes of all the other moments I’d found myself in this very position with the man before me. I see him in various stages of undress. I see him rip off his blood-spattered clothes. I see him sporting various injuries.
I hear him say he would never beg me. I hear him begging me. I hear him screaming and cursing at me and declaring his love.
My teeth find his neck instinctively as the images wash over me. I don’t draw blood; I just hang on tight as the rhythm steadily rises. In and out and in and out. Steadily, hard, long. My fingers scratch his chest as I sheath myself into him fully and stay there only pulsing so he can feel me.
The growling hasn’t stopped and I have a feeling he’s bit his own wrist.
I decide to use the idea that men enjoy putting fingers into each other’s mouth. He has to remove his wrist and let my fingers in. I resume rocking at a very slow pace when I knick my fingers on one of his teeth. Mmmm. I grind out, as my pace becomes faster and my eyes feel like they’ve rolled back into my head.
If I weren’t putting on a show, I would have lost it by now. 5000 years may dull some emotions, but sex brings them all back. For a lost soul like mine, a connection like this, closeness like this, especially to someone who knows my story, makes me want to keep on. Makes me want to stick to my plan. Makes me want to change my angle.
Oh. That did it. He’s pounding back frantically into me and I think I’ve got him. I move to give him better access to my wrist, if that’s what he wants, but he doesn’t take it.
Colour me actually surprised when he moves away from me and shoves me away to pin me under him. His eyes are yellow, but he’s managed to control the ridges.
“You don’t know what you’re getting into,” he says.
“I want you.” I reply, because I DO.
“Are you sure you want this?” He asks, and I can see he no longer cares either way.
“Now. Do it now.” I plead, trying not to sound like I’m commanding.
I know how much it’s going to hurt, because not only is he big, but I am dry. I know what he wants though. He wants to smell the blood, because if you’re going to go for it, you may as well go all the way.
I know the gut-wrenching scream came from me, because I’ve heard it before, but the howl that came from Angelus is new. It’s like he feels so good and he can’t believe it. He’s in full game face again, so I close my eyes and thrust my head back. I don’t want to have to think about how a human would react to seeing a vampire face for the first time when they’re in this position.
It’s like an eternity.
I start to wriggle, because I’m mostly healed and we’re so good together if he doesn’t move soon, the anticipation might kill me.
He starts pounding into me with satisfied grunts. I can almost hear him in my head saying ‘thank you thank you thank you’. My mouth is open and I am panting hard, my blood is racing, my hair is being pulled and I am doing everything I can not to babble in languages Adam has no business knowing. I like it like this. Soooo much.
I open my eyes, surprised when he stops and pulls me in for a kiss. We kiss well together, and it is sublime. It has nothing to do with what we were just doing, it is just mouths and tongues and bliss for several minutes. This is why I’m alive, I think; for moments like these…
But he stops.
I open my eyes to find yellow eyes looking at me quizzically.
I look at him like a puppy that’s trying to figure out what’s going on.
I know he wants to ask me something, but he keeps his mouth shut. He puts his hand around my throat, almost lovingly and pushes my head back into the mattress. He’s now kneeling between my legs and this position means even more of him is going in. Ah. Ah. I almost loose myself for a while because the pleasure is so intense. It lasts for minutes, until I feel like I’m floating, like it’s elevating me.
His grunting is getting louder, until he doesn’t sound remotely human.
“Yes, yes, yes, more, please, more, that’s it.” I encourage him. “Oh, God yes, keep going just like this.”
We are deafeningly loud.
I want to say so much more, but I no longer care. I’m just a guy now; being fucked really well and enjoying it more than ever. “Please.” I ask him, because I’m about to explode and I want company. “Please, harder, more please.” I beg, arching to meet his thrusts better.
He switches position again and comes down on me; fucking me in little strokes so fast I can’t do anything but surrender. When I think I might die from the act itself, I feel his teeth in my neck. So tentative it barely registered. “Mmmm. I like it when you suck like that.” I tell him, turning my head in invitation.
For all the bastards watching know, Adam thinks he’s getting a hicky.
My eyes shoot open as his fangs take into my neck. That’s going to leave a scar, I know, and I like it just fine. My hands are pinned by his and I am utterly helpless. He keeps pumping into me and I keep getting closer to my… “Ah yes yes YES!” I scream as I start convulsing. The pleasure is just as intense in my groin as it is in my neck and thank you for kidnapping me whoever you are.
Angel’s hands are bruising me as he holds on for dear life. He’s like a man starving and he’s coming for every drop. I hold on for as long as I can, because we don’t have that much time between now and the time I wake up.
I’m dying. I’m dying of pleasure.
The world around me starts to dim. I feel my heart beating, pumping wildly, and then slowing. My lungs tighten. I feel light, like I’m leaving my body. I can’t hang on any longer.
Any requests?
