Angel and Spike were completely still, no motion or sound evident – at least to most creatures.  Had another vampire been in the room, though, he would have heard the soft, low purrs rumbling from both the sire and his childe as their demons, so long contained and controlled, enjoyed this rare instance of otherworldly freedom.

*   *   *

When Angel finally awoke, almost twelve hours had passed.  The first sensation he had was of supreme contentment.  He felt well-rested for the first time in what felt like years, and more important than that, his boy was nestled deep in the curve of his body, spooned so that they touched at every point, from head to toe.  He obviously hadn’t moved a muscle during the long sleep, because he was in the exact same position he’d taken twelve hours before, with his hand still cradling his childe’s balls.

Well, one thing had changed; the balls in his hand were once again round and firm and, more importantly, full.  He sighed with pleasure and stroked a thumb along the wrinkled but silky sac surrounding them.  He’d wanted – no, needed – the blood bond re-established in its entirety, but this was one part of William’s anatomy that he was particularly fond of, and unwilling to risk any permanent damage to.  He knew from first-hand experience that unlike the amplification of the bond, which would stay at a heightened level as long as they took pains to maintain it by periodically exchanging blood, the physical effect was completely temporary, but still…

“Bastard,” Spike said, obviously now awake.

Angel smiled at the morning greeting.  There was no real animosity in his childe’s voice, and in fact, quite the opposite.

“Is that any way to talk to your sire, boyo?” he answered in turn, injecting a stern growl into his own voice.  He knew how to play the game as well as his childe.

“Let go, pillock.”

Spike’s hand brushed the dark vampire’s aside to eagerly inspect his flesh.

“Christ, thought my knackers were gone for good.  Two of my favorite things, you know.”

“Well, I know they’re two of your best features,” his sire conceded.

Spike could hear the smirk that his sire no doubt wore, even though he couldn’t see it.  With a growl, he twisted out of the bigger vampire’s embrace and pounced, catching Angel unaware.  He pinned the older vampire beneath him for a good second or two, before he was rolled by the bigger mass.  Spike was fast and agile, though, and that helped compensate for his slighter form.  Ten minutes of wrestling followed, though the skirmish might not have been perceived as very serious to an outside observer by the laughter that accompanied it.  Finally Angel found himself pinned flat on his back with his childe straddling his hips.  Spike bounced hard twice, and Angel groaned as the marble disk still embedded in the younger vampire jolted on his own full balls.

“Not too funny when it’s your own tackle in a vice, eh, tosser?” the blonde teased with another hard bounce.

“Christ, Spike, stop it or I’ll come,” Angel groaned, now writhing shamelessly beneath his childe.

“If you think you’re coming before me, then think again,” he said.  “It’s my turn now.”

Angel suddenly stilled beneath his childe, drew his hands up over his head and out to the sides in a parody of how the blond had lay when chained, and stared up at the vampire straddling him with a coyly submissive gaze.

“You think you can dominate me, boy?” he asked.

The question wasn’t so much a threat as a challenge.

“Yeah, I do,” the blond replied, leaning forward to press his hands against the broad shoulders.  His eyes were just inches from the dark pools of his sires’ now.  “Learned from the best, didn’t I?”

 “That you did, childe, that you did,” Angel said with another very Angelus-like smirk.  “Still…”  He gazed up through a dark fringe of lashes, considering his childe speculatively.

“Still nothing.  Shut up, Angel, and pay attention,” Spike said, reaching down with one hand to tweak a small male nipple.  The dark vampire hissed in response.  “We’ve got some unfinished business, you and me.”

The younger vampire sat back up and considered his captive through narrowed eyes.

“Can’t fuck you, even I know better than that,” he finally admitted.

Angel didn’t reply, but simply watched his childe work out his plan in a manner he had observed many times in his William over a century ago.

“But we both know the soul has left you with some poncy leanings.  Reckon I’m willing to take advantage of that a bit,” he said.

“Poncy leanings,” Angel repeated with a smirk.  “Meaning?”

Spike leaned down until their eyes were just inches apart again.  “Meaning I might not be able to stick my cock in my all-mighty maker, but apparently a finger or two isn’t out of the question,” he replied, smirking in turn.  The memory from the night following Angel’s victory over the Aurelian conclave came back to both of them instantly.

“And if one or two fingers are okay, who’s to say three or four isn’t?  Maybe even…”

Angel narrowed his eyes.  “You know you can’t stick your cock in me, but you think I’ll let you use your fist?” he asked, clearly amazed at his childe’s perverted sense of logic.

Spike shrugged.  “Yeah.  Why not?  ‘s not a cock, is it?”

Angel rolled his eyes.  “No, it’s not a cock, but that’s hardly the point…”

“It’s exactly the point, git,” the blond interrupted.  “A childe can’t fuck his sire, lore says so, but it don’t say nothing about fisting, now does it?” he demanded.  “And don’t say I don’t know what I’m talking about.  Had the lore pounded into me by your fists and fangs and prick often enough, didn’t I?”

Angel didn’t reply for a moment, shaking his head with bemusement.

“You know, Spike,” he finally said, “I’ve got to give it to you, you’ve really got balls.”

“No thanks to you, wanker,” the blond shot back with a smirk.  “Now be a good boy and roll over,” he said, slipping off his sire’s hips to kneel beside him on the wide mattress.

“You really think I’m gonna let you you do it, don’t you?” Angel said, considering his childe as though he was crazy.  His hands still lay flat to the mattress above him.

“Yeah, I do.  Wanna know why?”

“Please, tell me,” Angel said, eager to learn more of his childe’s convoluted thought process.

“Three reasons.  One; you want to come.  Two; you’re a whore where sex is concerned.  Three; you never could resist me, and we both know it,” he finished, ticking the points off on his fingers.

Angel blinked.

“Come on, daddy,” the blond added, his voice sinking to his lowest, sexiest register.  “Let your boy take care of you.”

Angel blinked again.  An unholy glint of humor suddenly appeared in his eyes.  And then he rolled over.