I still crave it. I know he does too. You can't exist over a hundred years as a vampire and *not* crave blood and violence and pain and hurt. You don't feel the power that snapping someone's neck brings and just get over it. It doesn't work that way and even *Angelus* wouldn't try to make such a claim.

But when I feel violent, we slay. When I'm hungry, we drink. When I need to cause pain, he lets me fuck him. And when I need to hurt, he'll take me hard and fast and we both get off on it as much as we always did. It's not perfect and it sure as hell isn't the same as a century ago, but what was so great about bein' around Darla anyway? (Besides the amazing bloody orgasms, because lets face it, professional whore turned vamp with a few hundred years of practice, plus a century fuckin' Angelus? Lets just say DAMN.)

But I have Angelus all to myself *and* I get to fuck him *and* he sucks my cock now *and*… I *love* him.

But I still crave it.

"Hey, Bozo," she says as she breaks the silence and comes to sit on my legs that are resting on the ottoman.

"What is it, *Bint*? Decided Hood ain't makin' ya scream as loud as Angelus does when I *fuck* him?"

"Eewww, no. I wanna know what you wanna be in charge of."

I stare at her blankly.

"Ya know, for the wedding?"

I stare at her blankly.

"Spike?!" She whines. "Everyone is pitching in to help us take care of everything. Sooo… what do you wanna do?"

I smile slyly, "It'll be hard, but I'll shag the bride."

She smacks me upside the head and I growl and grab her wrist, yanking her down to me and flipping us over so I've got her pinned on the couch in a matter of seconds. "SPIKE!" She shrieks.

"SPIKE!?" Angel growls from his office.

"DON'T GET YOUR KNICKERS IN A TWIST!" I scream. "I haven't eaten her…" I turn my attention back to her and grind my hips against her before adding "*yet*."

"Spike! Stop it!" She threatens and starts tryin' to get me off her.

"Ooo… squirm again!" I whisper.

"OH, YOU'RE SICK!" She squeals. "GET OFF ME!"

"Oh, I will, Baby," I murmur as she screeches at the top of her lungs.

Okay, now… I remember when I was a child and I'd just broken my father's spectacles. I was hoping to blame it on the cat, so I placed them on the floor, near his desk, and ran to my room. A few minutes later, he must have found them and when he found them, he was furious. He had that 'angry father- don't mess with me- I know you did it and I've got a belt ready to tan your hide' tone in his voice when he bellowed my name and I *swear* the house shook when he screamed.

That's kinda what it sounds like when Angelus screams "WILLIAM!!!!"

I quickly jump off her and she stands, playing the part of an injured party, which is how he finds her when he comes walking in, reading the… shit… mortgage statement. *Not* a good time to fuck with him when he's doing the bills.

"I take it everything is copasetic?" He asks, glancing up from the bill.

I smile widely at him and say (in my most proper English accent), "Precisely.  One was just discussing the finer points of floral arrangements with the delightful Miss Chase, with regard to her forthcoming marriage with the honorable Mr. Charles Gunn."

Fuck I hate when he does that. I *hate* when he gets all *intellectual* sounding. He *knows* it drives me wild and the smirk on his face tells me he *knows* I know he knows. Shit.

I really can't say anything to him right now. Especially when he waggles that damn pierced, scarred eyebrow in that sexy-as-hell-I-*know*-I-turn-you-on manner. No, I can't say much of anything while my cock swells beyond imagination. Well, I at least can't say anything *Cordy* wants to hear.

"Yeah right, Liar!" She accuses him. "He was practically *HUMPING* me!"

"Humping?!" He bursts out in laughter, which only aggravates her more and *I'm* standing here helplessly watching Cordelia and Spike start to close in on each other, not able to move on the account of my damn hard-on that the mortgage statement cannot hide any longer.

I stalk closer to her and the adrenaline she's givin' out is bloody amazing. I can practically *feel* her heartbeat, pounding through me like a bass cranked on high.

"What the hell is your problem?!" She spits out at me viciously.

"Me?!" I growl. "Nuthin'! I just find it funny as fuck that you'd even *use* the word 'hump'. Wonder if maybe I've been wrong about you all the while," I say as we start to circle each other in the middle of the living room and I can't tell which I'd rather concentrate on: her scent and energy or *his*. 'Cause like I said, I still crave it.

"What the hell is *that* supposed to mean?!" She snaps.

"Just thinkin' maybe, all this time, you're the effin' queen of the shag on the account of… well…" I use my hands to indicate exactly *which* curves I think are most appealing and continue, "But maybe I was wrong. Maybe you're just an everyday fuck and Hood's just too nice to let you know."

Oh, *that* did it.

"YOU BASTARD!" She comes at me with her claws poised, ready to scratch my eyes out. She *does* cut me as she topples me to the floor and 'pins' me down. "I'll have you know," she whispers as she presses against me intimately and I can't stand it… I'm hard. Doesn't take much. Sue me. It's just… *his* scent, *her* scent, the blood, the energy in the room… like I said; I still crave it.

"*I* am the most *amazing* fuck of his *life*time. All the stories I've heard, and guys I've had, *nothing* compares to how much or how hard he comes when *I'm* riding him." Fuck. I can't help but stare at her mouth and I grab her hips and grind her against me some more before quickly flipping her over and now I'm in gameface and I'm closing in on her neck and-

FUCK!

"SPIKE!" I grab him and throw him across the room, shattering the mirror that Cordelia felt 'belonged' in this room. I help her up and pull her quickly out into the hallway. "Are you alright?" I ask, half-expecting a stake in my heart for having done what I did to make him that way.

"Yeah, why?" She asks honestly.

"Cordy- he…"

"He's a vampire, Angel. What did you expect?" And there's the truth. I guess I was hoping he'd just be Spike. But Spike always has been and always will be a vampire.

"I'm sorry," I tell her. "I-"

"Angel, don't be. I'm *fine*, see? I can stand and everything. We were *both* fooling around."

"He was gonna-"

"No, Angel. He *wasn't*."

"How can you be so sure?" I ask, because I'm not yet convinced she's okay.

"Because I *know* him, Angel. I know Spike and I know vampires. I know the difference between real danger and not. Besides, I had a stake in my pocket just in case…"

"Cordy, Spike might not be able to distinguish between really attacking and being revved up from a fight. *Please*, just don't provoke him. Okay?"

"Fine, Angel. But really, *I* started it, you know how we are."

"Yes, but now his fangs are a bit more readily available."

"Fine. I promise. But it really wasn't his fault."

"Okay. We'll be up here for a bit. Let me know if you have a vision."

"Don't I always?" She smiles and heads downstairs.

He walks in and that look is probably not a good one.

"Angel, I *swear* I wasn't gonna-"

"Be quiet," he says quickly. And here comes the lecture, I'm sure. Don't bite my friends, don't- "What the hell *happened*?" He questions through gritted teeth.

That came out *completely* wrong. I can see the look of devastation and horror on his face- that I would even *ask* what happened when I *saw* what happened, when I could *smell* the thick aroma of her arousal and self-assurance… I *know* how intoxicating that can be, how hard you get when the air around is so thick, how much he must *crave* the violence against humans that he's denied… But *that* sounded way more like an accusation and anger than it did me trying to sort things out with him, like me trying to tell him I understand. It sounded almost… Angelus-y.

I growl at him. "You *saw* it. You know damn well what bloody *happened*, you self-righteous *pouf*! So take your fuckin' *soul* and your BLOODY humans and GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY LIFE!!!!!"

I grab a piece of the mirror and throw it at him, managing to cut his bicep.

"Spike," he says softly.

Fuck. I duck another piece of glass and fly across the room at him. I pounce on him and he kicks his leg to kick me off, but I grab his thigh and yank it against me. "Stop it!" I growl and find his golden eyes staring back at me.

"LEMME GO!" He screams and I pin his thigh down with my one knee and secure his wrists in one of hands. "STOPPIT!"

I'm clearly not going to get anywhere like *this* with him. So I do the only other thing I can think of.

I scream as my cock explodes at the feel of his fangs deep in my neck, pulling as if his life depended on it. FUCK! I don't care. I sink my fangs into *his* throat and I can already feel the powerful draw of family on my tongue, in my veins and I buck up into his hips and revel in the pressure and force he answers them back with.

I feel his tongue sucking violently, his mouth tightly fastened on my neck so as not to waste a drop and his pelvis pressing so hard against mine, I *swear* we're gonna go right through the floor.

Fuck! I don't *ever* remember it being this… intense. (Well, that's not true, because with Spike, it's *always* intense. Perhaps urgent is a better word.)

I know he feels it too and the next thing I know, we're ripping at each other's clothes and rolling around on the floor, drinking like there's no tomorrow. He feels so good rubbing against me like that, thrusting against my hips… I could just get lost in this.

Of all the things I remember in my life, *this* is what I remember the most. This feeling of being *so* close with him that the lines between us barely *exist*.

"Liam," I whisper through slurps of our blood because it is *our* blood. His and mine- it's one and the same now, we've drunk so much.

"Will… don't stop," he murmurs against my skin before diving into another place in my neck and I can't help but squirm and buck and whimper and grab his head and hold him closer to me than before.

This is it. If there is nothing else of this world… *this* is what matters.

~*~*~*~*~

The night… *last* night… was a blur. A big, huge blur that ended with positions I don't think we've ever *done* before. It ended with our blood circulating between us like we *were* one person and Angel needing to use my computer to order another set of these really expensive sheets. It ended with two crimson bodies, entangled together, sated and leaking, covered in cum and spit and blood and history, life and death and love and hate… and it ended… on Valentine's Day.

~*~*~*~*~

On a scale of one to ten, last night was *definitely* a two million… at least. *Every* time since he woke up has been like that- blood, cum, fighting, fucking… well, except for the *first* time. And not that it hasn't been *good*, because seriously no complaints here since, like I said, two million, at least.

Still… will it always be like this? Will it always be urgent and gory and violent? Will it always be about who can bite the most and who can drink the most? Or will it ever be the way it *was*?

"Shudup," he growls as he further nuzzles into my embrace.

"Wasn't talking," I grin, tightening my grip around his waist.

"Doncha know, now? Bleedin' pouf, yer broodin' woke me up!" I feel his hand slide down my belly. His fingers graze the course hairs at the base of my penis and fuck…

"If you only *knew* what you do to me, William."

But of course, he already *does*.

"Well, stop broodin' then. Wanna sleep more…" he whispers as he drifts off again.

Of course, how rude of me to allow my brooding to interrupt his beauty sleep. Sometimes, Spike can be really funny when it comes to his sleep time.

And I'm just about to fall asleep again when I hear the door opening, "Angel?" Cordy whispers. "Are you awake?"

"What's up?" I ask.

"Vision."

"Okay, I'll be down in a minute."

"'Kay." She quietly leaves and I kiss Spike on his forehead and slowly try to weasel out of his grasp.

"Angeeellll…" he whines in his sleep and I feel his hand slide around my penis as his other arm holds me tighter.

"Shhh, go back to sleep, Baby. I'll be back," I whisper against his cheek as I kiss him once more. "Love you."

~*~*~*~*~

"So, let's clarify… what the hell was that?"

"That, Virginia, was a legur demon," Wesley explains as we walk into the hotel, dripping slime and other fluids.

"And… this is slime?" She asks, wiping some off her shirt.

"Essentially," I say as I grab some paper towels and then pass the roll onto Gunn.

"Essentially?!" Cordy questions. "What the fuck does *that* mean, Angel? Essentially! What the fuck else *is* it?"

"Well…" I'm not sure she really wants to know. "I'm not sure you really wanna know…"

"Actually, Luv," OH IT'S SPIKE! "Legur demons" ohshit, he's gonna tell them the truth "have all their bodily fluids combined into one substance. So in effect, their slime could be any bodily fluid they have."

"Like what?!" She exclaims.

"SPIKE!" I growl. "Why don't you guys take off and enjoy your Valentine's Day!"

"NO!" She screams. "I wanna know what I'm covered in!"

"Blood. Snot. Spit. Piss. Cum."

"EEEWWWWWW!!!!! I'M COVERED IN ITS FUCKIN' JIZZ?!"

That pretty much makes them *all* go running upstairs toward the extra bathrooms. We're lucky we live in a hotel. I just stare at Spike, sitting smugly on the couch. "Ya know… you didn't have to tell them *everything* about legur demons.."

"I didn't. I never mentioned the digesting of human flesh."

"You're disgusting, Spike."

"And you love me for it."

"Yeah, I guess I do."

I walk over to kiss him but he jumps up off the couch and across the room. "I'm not touchin' you until *you've* showered. I'm not gonna kiss cum lips."

"You did last night…" I remind him.

"Yeah- but that was *my* cum."

"Fine. Hold down the fort," I say as I head for the stairs.

"Hold. Down. The fort?" He's mocking me. I glance over at him quickly and see him sitting there with that patented Spike-look that says 'did you honestly just say that in *my* presence, you pouf' and he's just so damn irresistible.

"Shut up," I mutter as I stomp my way up the stairs.

He's such a ponce sometimes. No one really gets that because they don't know, or can't see, how much of a ponce he really is. But I do. I know.

And waiting for them is really boring. I'm bored.

So… I do the only thing a truly *evil* person would do. I walk over to Cordelia's desk and turn on her computer. It's slow, since Angel refuses to step into the world of upgrades. Ooo… her wedding planning book? I open it up while I wait for the computer. This is really fascinating… she's *never* this organized in the office.

And what the hell is *this*? Tux measurements?! There's a page to write all the tux measurements for the ushers. We have to wear a tux? Fuck that, I'm wearing leather. Next to my name, I write 'I'm wearing leather'.

Heehee… I make a new category of measurement and label it 'cock size'. Now… *I'm* about 7 inches, so I fill it in. And Angel… well, I can be honest, he's a bit bigger than me, but I put 3 anyway. Hood? I don't know… perhaps 7? Wesley? 6. Xander? 5.

OH! The computer is on! Now for the *really* evil part.

~*~*~*~*~

I get downstairs and by the look on his face, I know he did something. But I look around and nothing is out of place or broken. He just has that 'guilty you can't catch me' look about him.

"Spike… what did you do?"

"Who? Me?" He asks. "Nuthin'."

"Spike… tell me."

I'm relieved when Legs and Hood come walking down in clean clothes and Watcher and Virgin follow them.

"Have fun without me?" I ask them.

"Tons. You missed a kick ass fight!" Hood exclaims.

"Oh yeah, Hood?"

"Ya know, Spike," Legs starts to say as she sits down next to me. "As cute as your little nicknames for us are… they're getting a little old. Why not just call us by our *actual* names?!"

"Yeah, instead of demeaning my girl, you could actually call her by her name," Hood adds.

"Okay, *Charles*," I state negatively.  

"Fine. *William*," he replies.

I mean- what the hell is wrong with nicknames? I don't get it.

"Why don't we talk about this some other time?" Angel suggests. "It's Valentine's Day… I think we should just all enjoy ourselves for a change."

"Angel has a point, I believe," Watcher agrees, which is a shock, really. I'm shocked. "And to that end, Virginia and I have reservations for dinner, so we'll be heading off."

"Have fun!" Legs tells them as they leave.

"And then there were four," I observe.

He's still got that guilty look about him. Although, really, he always does because he's always done something I'm not gonna be happy about.

"Do you two have any plans?" I ask Cordy and Gunn.

"Actually, Angel… can I talk to you privately?"

"Sure." I follow her into my office and sit down on the couch as she closes the door. "What's up?"

"Well… as you know… Gunn and I are getting married."

"What does she want with him, Hood?" I ask.

"Ya know- you call me that one more time and I'm gonna start stereotyping you, *Demon*."

"Whatever- what does she want?"

"She's asking him a question."

"Yeah- I know that Cordy. Is everything okay?"

"Oh yeah! It's almost perfect!" She says.

"But?"

"Angel," she takes my hand and continues, "You *know* how much you mean to me. You took me in and saved my life more times than should be necessary. In the past five years, you've *always* been there for me. And I love you more than my own parents. You *know* that, right?"

"Cordy, you're scaring me. Are you sure everything is okay?"

"You *know* that, right?" She repeats and I nod.

"Of course I do, Cordy. I love you right back. You know that."

"I do," she states. "And that's why… I'd like *you* to be the one to give me away."

Oh… my… what?

"What's the question?" I ask him.

"We had dinner with her father a couple nights ago to tell him the happy news. She wanted him there, ya know? At her wedding… to walk her down the aisle. But he said he would not support her 'atrocity of a mixed marriage'. And that's a direct quote."

"WHAT?" I growl.

"He said I had no right touching his daughter and he couldn't believe how she was gonna piss away her life on a hoodlum from the ghetto."

I growl loudly and ask through gritted teeth, "Want me to kill 'im?"

"Angel?" She asks.

"Wh- huh- yeah. Yes," I finally spit out. "Of course I will, Cordelia. But don't you want-"

"No. I don't have a father anymore."

And I can tell by the hurt in her eyes (and the fact that I can feel Spike's rage and I can hear him growling) that something happened between her and her father and it wasn't good.

"Cordelia," I say, looking into her eyes, "I'd be *honored* to walk you down the aisle and give you away to one of the best men I've ever known."

"Thanks," she smiles through her tears and I pull her into my arms.

~*~*~*~*~

"See you guys tomorrow!" She calls as she and Gunn walk out the door. "Have a nice evening!"

"You too, bye!" I close the door and turn to Spike, who is sitting on the counter. "What happened?" I ask.

"Dinner with her parents. Her daddy don't like him on the account of his being black and poor and refuses to recognize the fact that she's getting married."

"God dammit!"

"I offered to kill him, but Ho-*Gunn* didn't think it was funny… or he didn't think I was serious. Either way… I assume you'll be walking the fair Ms. Chase down the aisle."

"Yes. She asked and I'm more than happy to do it."

"And *I'm*" he says as he hops off the counter "more than happy to do *you*."

He stalks toward me with that predatory look that drives me fuckin' mad. "Ya know… we *mated* last night," I say as he continues to close the distance between us and I slowly step back. That's it, Spike, keep coming.

"Yes," he agrees and it's true. We mated a few hours early, but that's okay. It was amazing and incredible.

But now… it's done. And that means we can play. And I *want* to play.

"Mating is finished. And now… we can have fun."

"Fun? Mating wasn't fun, Mate?" he asks in mock anger. I'm a foot away from the stairs when he finally catches up to me and I slip my arm around his waist and yank him toward me.

"Sure it was. Absolutely. But I've got a few… Valentine's surprises for you."

"Oh yeah?" He cocks his eyebrow and I can do nothing more than lick my lips as I watch that ring move within his skin. He has *no* idea what his piercings do to me.

"Yeah," I answer as his tongue snakes out to moisten his lips and I forget who *exactly* is the one seducing and who is being seduced here. Shit. Mind on the goal, Angel, get your mind on the goal.

Bastard doesn't know whether he's comin' or goin'. Good. And he keeps backin' up toward the cellar door which is just *perfect*. He'll never see it co-

"Sorry, Spike," I say as he drops unconscious to the floor. But he'd never *let* me chain him up for *this*. So I do what I have to do.

~*~*~*~*~

I keep thinking back to those couple days waiting for him to wake up. And I'm here, waiting again, for him. Although this time, I know he's Spike- or at least the closest he can *be* to Spike. Of course, maybe he always was this amped about violence and just never let me in on it… I guess we'll never really know. Will we?

This is what we have now. Him. Me. Fucking. Violence. Blood. The vampire in me can't imagine those years I went without it, those years I thought that I could love Buffy for the rest of my existence and have it be enough.  Buffy was *never* intense enough for me. It was pain and pleasure, but not what I get from Spike. It was never what I get from Spike.

Maybe she just wasn't old enough, hadn't felt death enough, hadn't seen enough pain and experienced enough pleasure... or maybe it's just because Spike and I are meant to be. Isn't that what he's always saying? We're two parts of the same?

He's beautiful. He always was, always will *be*… *I* saw to that. But I mean right now, chained to the bed… because he'd *never* let me do this otherwise. Spike believes in piercings, obviously, but not *self* made. So he'd *never* go for this… but *I* feel the time is right.

So here he is, naked, chained to the bed, candles lit… and he won't. wake. up.

I used to dream. After Angelus had gone, and Dru and I were traipsing around, doing what we were good at, I used to dream. And when I did, I'd dream of Angelus. Dru and I always had that in common.

But I don't think I dreamed *this*.

I can't help the snarl that escapes my lips as I yank on the bloody chains.

He's awake…

I can't help but notice that Angelus-like smirk that takes over his face.

"YOU BLEEDIN' *HIT* ME!" I scream and tug again on the chains.

"Spike- Will…"

"NO! YOU FUCKIN' CRACKED MY *HEAD* OPEN!" I growl.

"I did not. Stop bein' such a baby."

A baby? He called me a baby? How fuckin' DARE he call me a - I'm the BIG BAD! Fuckin' BAD ASS of the unFUCKINdead and-

"Uh… Angel? What's that?"

"Oh, this?" I ask innocently. He *just* noticed what's in my hand. "This? You mean?" I hold it up to him and my dear sweet boy is *so* confused. "It's a needle, Boy."

Boy? BOY? He's calling me *boy* now?!

And… a needle?

Don't get me wrong- I know my sire has his own freaky kinks… I mean… the navel thing alone is pretty fucked. But a needle? *That* has never been my sire's instrument of choice.

"And what the fuck do you plan on doing with it?" I growl warningly.

"Oh, Will," he purrs as he runs his hand up my (just noticed I'm naked) thigh toward my cock. "If only you *knew* what I plan on doing with it." Fuck there's that Angelus look again.

"Sire?" I gasp, sounding a little less manly than I'd originally planned.

"Shh," he whispers as he closes in on me and he presses his lips against mine gently. "All in good time, Will. All in good time." He places the needle down on the taaaable. Shit. He's been thinking of this for a while. Knives. Candles. Eeep. The cross. (Not just *any* cross. *The* cross.)

******

"This, Spike," He said as he took the small cross pendant and placed a kiss on it. Fuck- I watched as it burned his lips and… just *fuck*. "*This* is the first thing I'll burn you with."

******

But the needle? Like I said, that one's a new one on me.

He picks up the knife and I watch as he runs his index finger down the blade and I smell his blood immediately drenching the air around me. He lifts his finger and I watch as the few drops of blood collect and…

I watch as the few drops of blood fall helplessly onto his lips. I watch as he opens his mouth and allows them to slowly slip onto his tongue. The color just barely covers his tongue.

I squeeze my finger and allow a few more drops to fall and I drip them onto his teeth and *shit* I forgot how fuckin' irresistible bloodstained Spike-teeth are. I'm im*poss*ibly hard and he is too.

Okay- there's work to be done.

But fuck. His mouth is just *begging* for-

He *must* hear my thoughts because he places his finger near my mouth and I *inhale* it, extending my fangs into it until I feel bone.

Shit… this feels *so* natural. Him and me… here… with blood and fang…

But that needle *really* freaks me.

Fuck. "Spike!" I growl. "That's enough."

I'm *never* gonna be able to do this, if I can't start controlling him *now*.. *I'm* supposed to be in charge.

I yank my finger away.

"Angel?" he asks quietly. "What's the needle for?"

I smile seductively and say, "It's about time you joined the big boys, Will."

Now… I pull over the chair and grab the shaving cream.

Shaving cream? He's gonna shave *what* exactly?

"What the fuck are you doing, Angelus?"

"I'm giving you a tattoo, Spike."

What th- "OH HELL NO!" I growl and yank on the chains but he's got my damn ankles chained too. I *hate* these beds! "ANGEL! NO FUCKIN' WAY YOU'RE GONNA DO *ANYTHING* TO ME, BITCH!"

"Stop it, Will."

"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!" I scream as he shakes the shaving cream a bit.

"Can you blame me for knocking you out, now, Spike? You *know* you wouldn't have sat down for this… and I don't wanna screw up. So don't move."

Although that's pretty much a statistical impossibility right now. I made the chains *really* taut so he doesn't have much room to move. I *was* expecting a good deal of resistance, of *course*. It's Spike, after all. King of rebellion.

"And where *exactly* are you gonna *put* it?"

"I haven't quite decided. Either here," I say as I run a finger over his pelvic bone, tickling the coarse hairs there. "Or… *here*," I whisper as I slip my hand around his cock.

"OHFUCKNOANGELUS! DON'T EVEN FUCKIN' *THINK* ABOUT TATTOOIN' MY FUCKIN' COCK!!!"

"STOP IT!" I growl in my 'sire-tone', which does *nothing* but make him madder.

If he fuckin' THINKS he's gonna put an effin' NANCY BOY fuckin' BIRD on MY bloody COCK, he's got another thing comin' and IT WON'T BE *HIM*. THAT'S for sure!

"If you even *think* you're gonna…" I growl through gritted teeth… "I'll *never* come back, Angelus. If you fuckin' *TOUCH* my cock with that needle, I'll leave."

"No you won't," he says with a smirk.

"Yes I will," I state.

"No you won't, Will."

"What makes you so sure?" I growl.

"The things I'm planning on doing to you *after* you have your tattoo."

Fuck?

*That* got his attention.

But I can compromise. "Fine. I won't put it on your penis. If you're *that* adamant about it. I'm not a *total* monster."

I press the button on the can and cover my hand in shaving cream. *Then* I slowly place my hand on his pelvis and he gasps as I move my hand *ever* *so* *slowly*, spreading the cream.

Shit- it's like *velvet* against my skin. All these heightened senses… they'll be the *death* of me.

And his hand… hovering above my skin… not *touching* me but *teasing* me. I'm a quivering mess, biting my lip with my fangs, when I feel him press the blade to my skin. "ANGEL!" I cry out as he drags it along my skin. Shit... "Harder!" I moan and he complies, pressing the blade against me slightly harder.

Oh yes, my boy is beautiful when he's in ecstatic pain!

I must admit, when he tries to arch into the blade and moans my name, I practically come.

I don't, though. I'm no fledgling.

But I *practically* do.

I picture me thrashing around under his torturous hands. I picture me screaming and writhing in agony under his delightful, tormenting touch.

And then the blade is gone and he blows gently onto my skin.

"Angelll…" I moan breathlessly.

I open my eyes and can barely speak as I watch him lift the needle up off the table. He must have borrowed it from someone. Not that I've ever been *afraid* of anything… but my sire? With a needle? But the *last* time he used a needle didn't turn out very well… in fact it went *very* *badly*. The mansion… wheelchairs… unsouled-evil-sires…

"Not like before. Trust me, Will," he whispers as he prepares it with the color and… he moves it closer and presses it gently into the base of my cock and I cry out as he drags the needle up my hard length.

Oh his mouth opens so beautifully as he cries!

"Now," I say calmly, "I gave a *lot* of thought to what I would put on you forever, William."

"And what did you decide?" He squeaks as I circle the slit of his penis with the needle.

"You'll *love* it, Will. I *promise*. So just relax."

"Angelussss…" he groans and I can't help but gloat. I picked him. *I* picked *him*. Darla always said I had good taste. And I do. He's proof of that.

As I move the needle slowly, his fists grasp the chains and these small tiny moans escape his lips. His fangs draw blood and I can't help but place soft kisses on his thigh as I work.

I can feel *every* *little* *movement* of that needle. I can feel *every* *little* *burn* as it moves on my skin. Every sting is so sharp, it bites my flesh and it's one of the most amazing thing I've felt. He blows gently on my cock and I can't *help* but moan at *that*.

Okay… so the chains and tattoo isn't working out *that* badly because I'm so hard I can barely *think*.

And he's still got… fuck, he's got the cross there. What the fuck is he gonna *do* with me?

~*~*~*~*~

I sit back and admire my work. I like it. It's simple yet elegant. He wears it so well.

"Will?" I whisper and he opens his eyes slowly. Was he asleep? Or just lying in wait?

"Liam?" he asks sleepily.

I crawl up over him and straddle him before closing my mouth over his. I lick his bottom lip of the blood that's been dripping steadily from his tender flesh. I feel his tongue on my top lip and I just can't help myself with him. I honestly don't know how I went over a century *not* feeling him. How could I have possibly convinced myself I didn't need him? How could I have left him the way I did? I must have been mad… crazier than Dru.

His hands slide up my arms and back down my chest. Shit… my whole body is *so* bloody sensitive right now. The feel of his weight on top of me is incredible.

"Angelus… please…" I whimper. I can't help myself. This whole night has just been *draining* for some reason. Maybe because he knocked me out before I fed? Could be.

My boy's hungry… I can see that look in his eyes. Sometimes I'd leave him chained up for days, so the only nourishment he could have was mine. And I'd make him *beg* for it with those puffy lips… fuck.

I slide down his body and place a tender kiss over the tattoo. He moans again and strains against the chains to arch against my mouth. But I've no intention of denying him *that*.

I trace the letters of our names with my tongue… slowly. W. i. l. L. i. a. m.

Marked forever, he is.

Fuuuuck.

Apparently, tonight's theme is torture.

He slides down my body further and I feel his tongue moving over the tops of my toes. "Angelus!" I call helplessly. How do I get myself into these situations? Either I'm incredibly stupid, or he's incredibly smart. Either way, it doesn't look good for me.

He stands and walks ove- shit.

"Do you remember this, Will?" He asks, his eyebrow cocked.

Of course I do, you effin' ponce. "Yes."

"Do you know what I promised, Will?"

How could I effin' forget, you big pouf? "Yes."

"Do you *want* it?" He asks devilishly.

Fuck yes. "No."

"Liar," he whispers. And he's right. *So* right.

Yes, he does. That glint in his eyes and the constant arousal pouring off of him tells me so.

I start by dangling the necklace over his toes,  the cross just *barely* touching them. He cries out as I drag it up his calf and circle the tattoo. "Sure you don't want it, Will?" I ask again as he licks his lips.

"No… er… yes."

I smile and swing it around his navel and immediately lick the burns tenderly, soothing them with my cool tongue.

He's torturing me. Touching everywhere but where I want. Doing everything that he *knows* drives me crazy.

Fuck he's good at this.

He laves the burns on my stomach as he dangles the cross over my left nipple and it stings. It burns and I smell the nauseating aroma of my own flesh burning. "Angelusssss…" I hiss, which earns me a quiet chuckle and nip on the navel.

He lays his head on my stomach and looks up at me. "Amazing how one little piece of silver can hurt us so much, isn't it?" he whispers before dropping it on my chest and I can help but scream.

He's beautiful as he arches off the bed, *into* the pain. I taught my boy well. *I* taught him how to make pain his pleasure. I was a motivating instructor.

"That's it, Will. Let the pain guide you."

"Let it guide *YOU*," he growls.

~*~*~*~*~

I maintain eye contact as I massage his thighs with the oil. It's been *so* long since I've been able to take my time with him like this. And he's *letting* me, surprisingly. Guess he's not *completely* not my Spike. I just can't help but keep thinking that maybe he thinks it *does* have to be gory and violent and bloody every time. But we used to have sex for fun. We used to make love. But he hasn't let that happen, or maybe I didn't try hard enough, or maybe we both just didn't *make* it happen.

But he's letting me touch him gently and love him and it makes me so happy. I haven't been able to stop purring for the past hour and I don't care. He's my mate; he can know how content I am right now to just be touching him this way.

And he's *so* adorable, looking at me with lidded eyes and that hungry, lusty, tired look. But I'm not done. I still have a lot of oil left and I haven't even *touched* his navel or arms.

~*~*~*~*~

I can't help but smile when I step back and look at him. His body is gorgeous and relaxed and quiet. He's purring in his sleep too. I loved him to sleep.

I carefully unchain his ankles and hands. He doesn't even stir. I use the remainder of the oil to coat my cock and slide onto the bed next to him. I press myself against him and place my hand over the tattoo before nibbling on his neck.

"Willll… roll over, Will," I whisper. "Roll over and let me in."

"'Gelus?" I murmur. What… where? Oh- my god… my body is like fuckin' putty.

"Roll over and let me in," he whispers into my ear.

I'm just so tired… but I roll onto my side and feel his cock slide into me.

"Shit," I moan and rest my head back against him.

"Shh, just let me love you, Will, let me give you this again."

He feels so relaxed in my arms, lying limp against me. "I need this-" and I didn't *actually* mean to whisper that out loud so he could hear. It's just that… well he's been so hyper lately. Maybe he just needs to find the calm again. Maybe *we* do.

I move my hips slowly, savoring every inch of his body. He feels like velvet around my cock and I slide my hand around his cock and feel his hand grabbing at my thigh, pulling me toward him.

I kiss his shoulder and nuzzle his neck as I move within him. He's so open right now to me, no resistance. He's just completely relaxed and calm against me, almost *melting* against me. "You're so beautiful, Will," I murmur. "So mine."

But release has been too long denied and this whole night has had me ready to pop.

I slide my hand up his body and place my wrist in front of his lips. "Drink, Will," I whisper. "Drink and come with me," I implore him as I sink my fangs into his neck softly.

His is such a quiet orgasm, rolling through him so softly as he laps contentedly at my wrist. He says nothing, and I *think* I heard a small sob escape his lips. Shit, I needed this, my boy in my arms, inside him like this, tight around me.

I can't help but release *myself* inside him with a sob as we drink ourselves into a soft oblivion.

~*~*~*~*~

He's nuzzling my neck when I come to and I smile. "Have you looked yet?" I ask him as I slip an arm around his waist.

"What does it mean?" He asks while curling up next to me. "Ya know, *besides* I'm a bloody ponce who got chained."

"It says 'December 25 June' in Gaelic," I inform him of the tattoo. The two days we were turned, he on December 25 and myself on June 25.

"Two parts of the same," he whispers against my navel. Shit… his hand slips down to my cock.

"Two parts of the s-"

"EEEEEAAAAHHHH!!!!!" Cordelia shrieks from downstairs.

He grabs his robe and bolts down the stairs. I languidly stretch on the bed. I'm sure she's- ohshit. The computer!

"WILLIAM!!!!" He *bellows* from downstairs as I grab a pair of jeans and dive out the window into the shadows of the alley beneath.

Jesus! Who knew he'd actually *shake* the hotel? I guess that answers the age-old question.

Will your sire be mad if you leave a picture of him givin' you head on the desktop of his human's computer?

Yes. A *definite* YES.