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

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

It was Spike’s turn to blink now as he stared at the long, chiseled curve of his sire’s back.  His gaze was fixed on the dark vampire’s tattoo as it flexed in response to Angel’s motions, and then it was drawn downward, tracing the sinuous spine to where it ended on a now upturned arse as Angel drew his knees beneath him.  His sire suddenly stilled in the most submissive pose his childe had ever seen him in.

Spike drew in a gasping breath.  He’d expected a capitulation eventually, but to a far lesser request, and only after a great deal of pleading.  He expected that because, well, his sire was a whore who wanted to come and ultimately couldn’t resist his childe.  But he’d never expected this.

He wasn’t even sure what to do now that he’d apparently been given what he’d asked for.  It was very possible Angel was setting him up for disappointment to teach his childe yet another lesson in vampire lore and his place in the scheme of things.  Angelus had done quite a bit of that sort of thing back in the day, and William had hated it more than anything, thinking his sire was making some small concession to his childe, only to get slapped down right when it was in reach.

On the other hand – screw it.  He was older and wiser, and more importantly far tougher than little William had ever been.  He could take whatever his sire dished out now, and besides, whatever fate awaited him, it was well worth the risk, he finally decided, ogling Angel’s sweetly raised backside.

Oh yeah, well worth the risk.

The blond reached out a hand – tentatively, for all his bravado – and stroked softly over one curved hip.  He sighed with delight at the silky firmness that glided beneath his fingertips.  Before he could stop himself, he leaned forward and placed a butterfly-light kiss on that soft cheek.  He leaned back abruptly, eyes widened in surprise by his own actions.  His lips were pressed in a thin, hard line now as he waited, sure that this was when the worm would turn.  Angel would throw his ‘poncey’ claim back at him and have a good laugh at his childe’s expense.  He was pretty sure he would have done it if the situation had been reversed.

But that didn’t happen.  None of what he expected to happen did.  Angel didn’t speak.  He didn’t glance over his shoulder to pierce his childe with a sarcastic, know-it-all smirk.  He didn’t collapse on the mattress howling with laughter, by his actions making it clear that the seeming offer had been nothing more than a teasing taunt.  Instead Spike heard a soft sigh, accompanied by an almost imperceptible wriggle of that sexy-as-hell arse.

Spike let out the completely unnecessary breath he’d been holding and threw caution to the wind, draping himself over the taut backside so that he could reach the tantalizing tattoo up ahead.  He’d always loved his sire’s mark.  Back in the day, after Angelus had taken him, William had loved to lay himself over his sire’s broad back and lick that tattoo.  The older demon had liked it too.  Often he’d fall asleep, purring in contentment at his childe’s ministrations.

Once, when he was little more than a fledge, he’d asked Angelus to take him to get inked with a replicate of that tattoo, but his sire had not been in a good mood – Darla had left that day for an extended visit with her own Sire, the Master of their Order.  The dark vampire told him that he’d let him know when he’d earned that particular privilege, then warned him that it wouldn’t be easy.  He’d stomped off for a much-needed hunt on his own, muttering something about what he himself had had to go through with Darla to get it more than a hundred years before, but no matter what he did, William had been unable to learn that particular secret, either from his then-grandsire or his own dam.

A few years later, when he’d been re-turned and taken as Angelus’ own childe, Spike had quelled every urge to make that request again, waiting instead for the offer to come from his sire, but it never did.  He suspected that the older vampire had simply forgotten, but he was still new enough, and still uncertain enough of his sire’s affections, despite the Most Favorite claiming, to bring it up.  Eventually it had fallen by the wayside – he couldn’t even recall when he’d let go of that particular wish.  He supposed that the process of becoming Spike, with all the demonic aggression that went with it, had taken the forefront of his interests, and by the time he was Spike, his sire was gone.

He traced the gryphon with his tongue, feeling the decades drop away.  A purr rumbled from the chest beneath him, vibrating through the thick muscles of his sire’s back, and in an instant Spike was transported back in time.  He was William again, easing his sire to sleep.

Only he wasn’t William – I’m not, he insisted, as a quieter voice disagreed – and his sire was not about to fall asleep.  Not if he had any say in the matter.

One hand began to stroke lightly along Angel’s flank, while the other joined his tongue in tracing the dark stain upon his sire’s shoulder-blade.  When their lines intersected, Spike’s tongue flicked over his index finger as well, finally drawing it into his mouth to suck upon it fully.  A few seconds later he was apparently satisfied, because he released the finger and continued on with the inked mark.

Shifting a bit, he let the now spit-slicked hand slide down and between their bodies, unerringly finding the tight bud between Angel’s two pale cheeks.  He traced it in small, light circles, then rubbed over the puckered surface, tapping now and then to tease the taut firmness.  The dark vampire groaned with what sounded like appreciation, even to Spike’s ears, which were tuned to hear a far less satisfactory sound.  He still expected an adamant rejection of his unchilde-like advances, and was certain it would come eventually.  He tested his theory, pressing in lightly until the tip of his finger was inserted, but Angel simply widened his knees, opening himself further.

Okay, so it wasn’t going to happen just yet.  Well, he’d gotten further than this before, and no doubt Angel would let him pass that last transgression before coming down like a hammer on his unsuspecting head.  Hah! he snorted silently.  I’ve got your number, tosser – I’m ready for you.

Spike spiraled his finger, slowly sinking it in deep, until it was completely seated.  He waited a minute, and when he wasn’t rebuffed – not yet, he reminded himself grimly – he pulled out and quickly thrust in again, this time aiming unerringly for the larger man’s prostate.  He knew he’d been successful with his aim when his sire jolted forward and cried out.  The fingers stroking Angel’s flank sank in, gripping him tight to pull him back to where the blond wanted him.  Angel might be able to end this when he chose, but until he did, Spike was determined to do as he pleased, and consequences be damned.

And with that thought, a second finger joined the first, both crooking to press teasingly against the spongy bump inside.  Angel moaned again, but this time he pressed back into the touch.  Spike was encouraged, though still wary.  Time to push the boundaries a bit, he thought, as he brought a third finger into play.

Three was so much more of a transgression than two, Spike mused as he eased the third one in beside the other two.  Two seemed little more than stimulation, while three leapfrogged into the realm of preparation.  Stimulation was always good where his sire was concerned, but preparation?  Spike doubted that the ponce had ever allowed such a thing before, except of course with his own sire (and he had no doubt that Darla had been very demanding where her childe was concerned).

Angelus was a serious dom, but there was that whole whore thing, and so Spike had to consider that Angelus had liked it well enough, when done by the one who had standing over him.  Spike seriously doubted, though, that with the exception of those few, small instances back in the day when he’d allowed his Most Favored to cross the line now and again, the dark vampire had ever let anyone but his own sire touch him in such an intimate way.

Of course there was the stint in hell…

Spike didn’t like to think about that.

His own proximity to that bottomless pit, thanks to that bastard Pavayne, had been distressing in the extreme.  He didn’t like to think of his sire trapped there for the equivalent of scores, if not centuries, of years.  But it was too late.  The thought was there, followed instantly by sympathy and concern, and the three fingers that had been stretching and probing, suddenly stilled and then slipped out to rest on one taut cheek as his heretofore serious intent to carry through with his plan abruptly faltered. 

“Christ, Spike, what the fuck are you doing?” a hoarse voice demanded, breaking through his introspection.

Spike blinked and focused on the figure on the mattress in front of him.  Angel still knelt arse up and shoulders down, but his head was now turned to glare intently at the vampire behind him.

“I think…”

“Don’t think, boyo,” the older vampire growled.  “And did I give you permission to stop?”

The blonde’s eyes widened in surprise.  “Hey, who’s the one doing the dominating here anyway?”

Spike managed to get the words out credibly enough, but wished his voice hadn’t had that slightly breathy quality to it that he feared might give away his growing insecurity.

“Apparently I am,” Angel answered with disgust, kicking back with one foot to jostle the vampire kneeling behind him.  “Get back here and finish what you started,” he added, turning his head to press it to the sheets again.  His fingers clenched and unclenched in the satiny-smooth fabric as he moved his hips restlessly.

“Just waiting for you to beg a bit, tosser,” Spike sputtered indignantly.

“Get back here,” Angel insisted again, the words clipped and insistent.

“Guess that’ll do,” his childe replied sullenly, reaching forward to slowly stroke over the quivering flesh for a moment before slipping two fingers in once more.  “Wonky alpha control freak,” he muttered under his breath just as the third was eased in again.

“I heard that,” Angel growled, thrusting back hard on the three tentative fingers until they were buried deep inside.  “Jesus,” he muttered in turn.  “Do I have to do everything myself?”

Spike couldn’t help the bark of laughter that escaped him at that totally unexpected comment, jolted abruptly out of the introspection that had come with the thought of his sire’s time in hell.  And Angel thought he had balls.  Speaking of which…  He tilted his head to eye the heavy sac hanging between his sire’s thighs, then slipped his free hand down to cup the pendulous weight.  Heavy and full, they filled his palm completely.  He fondled them, rolling the balls in his fingers, and Angel groaned, burying his face in the sheets.

“Better?” Spike asked, a hint of playful sarcasm in his voice.

“God, yes,” his sire answered hoarsely, pressing his hips back to increase the contact to the hand outside, and the fingers in.

The three fingers were working him fully now with deep, long, jolting thrusts.  Spike tried to avoid Angel’s prostate as much as possible, knowing that the stimulation would be overwhelming now, coupled with the extreme pressure, but it was difficult.  How he would manage with even more, he hadn’t a clue, but that was the task at hand.  He grinned at the unintended pun, recovering a bit of his confidence.  Had his marching orders from the poof himself, didn’t he?  Right then, finger four, coming up.

The fourth finger had a much bigger impact than the previous three, despite it’s being the smallest of them all.  Just a pinkie finger, but its presence made it possible to go deeper than he had before because that same pinkie finger was no longer the limiting factor.  Instead of being stopped at the third set of knuckles, he now could go almost a full two inches deeper, down to the bottom curve where his thumb began – in theory, at least.

Spike found the practical application a bit more daunting, at least when the subject before him was his very own sire.  He almost hesitated, but then he remembered Angel’s words, and more importantly, his tone of voice from a moment before.  He wasn’t bringing that embarrassment down on his head again; his sire was the poof, not him, after all.  And so he pushed forward - literally.  The pressure was intense at his knuckles, but he held it steady, rubbing his free hand soothingly along his sire’s testicles, then upward along the shaft above it.  It hardened a little more, and Angel groaned, shifting his knees a bit.

“Push back, pet,” Spike murmured, keeping the pressure on his hand steady.

The muscles along the older vampire’s back flexed and the gryphon rippled with an eerie parody of life as the sire obeyed the childe.  Angel cried out as the pressure on Spike’s hand abruptly gave way and the knuckles slipped past the tight ring.  The next two inches were gained in an instant, only the thumb, which was still outside the demon’s body, holding back further progress.  Muscles quivered now in pain at the increased pressure, and his other hand felt the effect as well, when the iron-hard shaft softened just a bit.  Spike pulled his inserted hand back slowly and a moan of relief floating below him in response.  It didn’t last long, though, as he immediately set up a new, deeper stroking action.  He used the shaft in his palm as a gauge, and when it began to firm up again, he increased the speed and force of his thrusts.

Angel was whimpering now, and Spike recognized the sound as a mix of pain and pleasure both.  His sire not only tolerated pain well, he actually enjoyed it even more than the average demon.  Spike knew, perhaps better than most, considering the extremes of pain and pleasure he’d endured at his sire’s hand during both training and punishment, that enjoying pain did not mean it didn’t hurt, as so many creatures thought was the case.

Even the Watchers Council apparently misunderstood this issue, if Giles’ diaries, which Spike had taken pains to study, made clear.  It was a crucial one, too, and the blond had been happy to discover such a weakness in their understanding, knowing any weakness could be used against them, should the need arise.  Angelus had taught him to keep his enemies close, to understand them, and though Giles and Wesley were no longer counted among that camp, between them he’d had the perfect opportunity to study the entity that was the bane of his kind’s existence.

And so Spike knew, even if others might not understand it, that Angel felt the burning pain in excruciating detail, but craved it still.  Because he understood that, he didn’t let too much time pass, which would result in the acclimation of the body beneath him and the lessening of that pain.  Instead he pulled his hand back until only the tips of three fingers were left in, tucked his thumb into the channel all four made, then pushed in again.  Angel hissed as the pressure abruptly increased, rose up on his hands and instinctively tried to move away from the pain, pulling his body forward, away from the fingers.

But the younger vampire would have none of that, tightening his hand on his sire’s sac.  Angel yelped at this new pain, and Spike couldn’t resist the smile of satisfaction, remembering all too clearly the pain he’d endured just a few hours ago.  He increased the speed of his thrusts, gripping Angel’s balls tight to hold him still, and felt the amazingly tight muscles around him loosen just a bit before he stopped and pressed in firmly.  A minute later, with a sudden release of pressure, his whole hand popped through the ring and disappeared.

Angel’s head hung between his shoulders now, and he shook it slowly, like a wolf scenting prey, a low growl building in his chest.  When Spike closed his fingers into a fist and twisted his hand abruptly, the knuckles rippled against his sire’s prostate and the dark vampire raised his head and howled.  A growl erupted from Spike’s own throat at the sight and sound, his demon responding to the call of the alpha of his pack.

Spike released the balls and slid forward to find Angel’s shaft fully erect and straining.  He stroked its length, assessing its status, and flicked a thumb over the head.  It came away dripping wet from the precum leaking continuously through the gaping slit.  And then he remembered his earlier words.  His hand quickly slid down to grasp the base of the straining cock and tight, lifted balls, and just in time, too, if Angel’s angry cry was any indication.

“Told you, Angel, it’s my turn now,” he reminded the older vampire gruffly.

His sire’s threatening growls increased, but Spike only tightened his grip, using it as an anchor as his enclosed fist began a thrusting motion deep inside the other vampire.  The blond watched, his arousal growing by leaps and bounds as his arm disappeared inch by inch, almost to the elbow.  He pulled out right up to the closed fist with each back-stroke, twisting his hand to ensure full contact of his knuckles on the bumpy gland with each in-stroke.  Angel was howling continuously now, rocking back hard to meet each ramming thrust, and Spike was almost beside himself, inflamed beyond words by what was happening, by what his sire was allowing to happen.  It was incomprehensible to his demon, but he absolutely couldn’t stop.

Angel was the one impaled, but Spike knew that he couldn’t hold back his own response much longer.  He quickly shifted to the side, straddling one of his sire’s legs, and began to hump his steel-hard cock against the back of a taut thigh.  He would’ve like to rub off on his sire’s beautifully tight arse, but that was impossible unless he was willing to remove his hand, and that he would not do, not until he’d come and then made Angel follow suit, which, he reckoned, would be incredibly easy based on the sounds the older vampire was currently making.  They were part pain – the hand gripping his balls as he thrust into him had to be painful on its own, despite the embedded fist – and part ecstatic pleasure, and they made his blood sing.

Through the blood bond Spike felt the incredible sense of euphoria and delirium that encompassed his sire’s demon, felt it in the very core of his own.  To Angel’s howls were added the cacophony of their shared demons, a sound heard only his head, but so loud that it seemed to fill the room and echo eerily everywhere.  He was amazed that their humans hadn’t yet burst into the room to investigate that sound.  If they could hear it, surely they would think they were under attack from some enemy clan.

Spike’s cock hardened even further at the image of their pets breaking in and seeing them thus, and with a howl that now rivaled his sire’s, he came in great, gushing waves against his sire’s leg and right cheek.  He collapsed upon the darker vampire’s broad back, released his hold on the base of his elder’s cock and balls, and rammed in hard and fast with his closed fist twice more.

That was all it took.  Angel howled and bucked beneath the younger vampire’s boneless weight, coming in long, pulsing shots that seemed to go on forever.  With the last of his waning energy, Spike stroked the rigid shaft, feeling each pulse, until it was finally over.  Angel collapsed to the mattress, his childe still upon him.  Human sensation buzzed quietly in the background while their demons writhed slowly and sensually together in the freshly opened circuit of their bond, reveling in the aftermath of their shared and extreme pleasure.