Pushing

Home : Stories by Author : Stories by Laure Alexander : Pushing

Summary: From Spike's POV, set sometime in Season 4/1. Angel finds Spike in his office, drinking his favorite whisky and generally irking him. A fight leads to...

AUTHOR: Laure Alexander
EMAIL: lara@sunflower.com
RATING: NC-17
PAIRINGS: Spike/Angel
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or any of the characters on the show. Joss Whedon and the WB Network own them (for now). No copyright infringement intended, so please don't sue.
DEDICATION: To Harker who asked for S/A smut with blood, Irish whisky, marlboros and a rather Angelus like Angel. And to Saber, my S/A goddess who's suffering idiots these days.
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I did it. I got him to slip, to let his control slide just a bit, just enough.

Just enough, so that he's almost as he was.

My Angelus...

I know just what buttons to push and just how hard to push them. His soul's still in charge, but just barely, and his demon has one foot in the door.

How do I know this?

Soulboy would never fling me over his desk, rip my jeans down my legs and fuck me so beautifully hard and fast.

His fingers are in my hair, pulling my head up, as his other hand holds my hip in place for his impatient slams. I clutch the far edge of the desk, and grit my teeth as every thrust sends my painfully erect cock sliding against the hard wood.

Wonderful, it feels so fucking wonderful, his big prick filling and stretching me, the pain and the pleasure, being dominated by the only male fit to do so.

I just want him to fuck me forever.

My sire. Not the brooding pussy, but my sire.

Or, as close as we can get these days. No one wants the return of the insane creature he was two years ago, but I'm willing to push him to lose control temporarily to experience all the good that was Angelus.

I wonder what he'll do to me when he comes back to himself?

~~~~~

Twenty minutes earlier...

Angel stopped stock still in the doorway of his office. It was late at night. Wesley and Cordelia were gone, and he'd finished his work out and gone looking for his book. Not finding it in his apartment, he'd jogged up the stairs to his office.

Only to find his irritating childe sitting behind the desk, feet propped up on the scarred wood, smoking a Marlboro red and drinking straight from his only bottle of Midleton Irish. Spike gave him a wolfish grin and downed another large swig of the very rare whisky.

"Do you know how hard that is to get?" Angel growled, stomping into the room to grab the bottle.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist. I'll get you another."

Frowning at the tiny amount remaining, Angel shot his childe a nasty look. "Only so many bottles are distilled a year and I was lucky to find one."

Spike rolled his eyes and stubbed out his cigarette in an antique Chinese bowl. "You Irish and your precious whisky. Bunch of souses, you are," he muttered under his breath.

"What do you want, Spike?" Angel replaced the lid on the bottle and stored it in the lower cabinet of his bookcase.

"Just stopped by for old times sake," Spike blithely replied. "Was bored in Sunnyhell, what with the Slayer spending all her time shagging her soldier boytoy." He grinned maliciously at his sire.

Angel's eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms over his chest. "Heard you were neutered, boy."

The evil grin fled his face and Spike dropped his feet to the floor, rising to face his sire. "I can still whup your ass."

Snorting, Angel sneered in disdain. "I still owe you for several pokers jabbed through my vitals."

Dancing out of the reaching hands, Spike grinned again. "Bring it on, old man."

*****

The fight lasted fifteen minutes. It was brutal and unforgiving. The room was trashed: furniture overturned, books torn, breakables broken. The combatants had slid through puddles of water from the broken vase of flowers, skidded on glass shards, nearly impaled each other on jagged chair legs. Blood spread across pale faces from broken noses, broken lips. Their demons emerged and any hint of remaining civility disappeared.

Inevitably, Angel won out. Taller, bigger, stronger, older, he overpowered his childe, forcing the wiry, younger male over the only piece of furniture still standing. As Spike struggled and bucked, trying to free himself from Angel's tight embrace, his sire hissed in his ear, his voice sibilant, demonic.

"Is this what you came for, boy? Did you miss your master's domination? Deep down in that little black heart, did you yearn for my cock tearing you a new ass hole? All the bluster, all the swaggering and proclaiming yourself your own master, none of it means anything in the face of your sire, does it...boy..."

As he spoke, Angel calmly and efficiently tore Spike's pants down, unfastened his own, and on the final word, speared his childe's unprepared body, making them both howl.

~~~~~

During the entire fight I rubbed his nose in the fact that his precious saint Buffy is spreading herself for a mere mortal. I knew it would be enough, would push him to the point he'd let his demon out to play. He took it surprisingly well.

After all, I'm only getting his cock shoved up me and not the red hot poker the real Angelus would have used if I'd played that game with him.

Demon I may be, but I prefer painful pleasure over blinding agony. Give me a good hard fucking and I'll take it like a man.

More satisfying for both of us, anyway.

Suddenly Angel pulls out of me and the scent of fresh blood fills the air. He tore me. Damn, it hurts in such a good way, my inner tissues all raw and throbbing in time with the pulse beating my cock into the desk.

"Get up." The guttural growl comes from behind me. Shaking, I shove myself into a standing position. "Strip." I obey quickly, tossing my clothes into a corner of the room. His hand on my shoulder spins me around and I stumble slightly. Ignoring me, Angel rights the one remaining unbroken chair and lounges in it, legs spread, cock jutting from his open trousers.

It glistens with my blood.

Saliva fills my mouth and I swallow convulsively, not wanting to drool on myself.

Angel crooks one finger, and I surrender all vestiges that I have any say in this, and drop to my knees. Crawling over the debris on the floor, I move between his legs and glide my wet tongue over the tip of his purple monster of a dick, tasting the sharp tang of blood. Out of the corner of one eye I see his hand curl around the end of the chair arm and I smile.

His control is more shaky than he wants me to know.

I think he must take exception to my smiling, because with his free hand he grabs my nape and thrusts my face against his crotch. Instinctively my mouth opens and his cock fills it, stabbing down my throat. I open as wide as I can, taking it in and trying not to gag. Angel's growls of pleasure fill my ears and I close my eyes, sucking avidly.

I've always loved this. I know it's not something a master vampire should ever admit, even to himself, but I love sucking dick, and this male's dick better than any.

And, I'm fucking good at it, too.

The bouncing of Angel's hips, his shaky growls, the clenching of his hands around the chair arm and my neck, all signal that I'm *really* fucking good at it.

Angel lets me pull my head back some and I flutter my tongue around the sensitive glans before sucking on the mushroom shaped head. I open my eyes to glance up at him, and I can't help but smile at the sight of the wild lust in his eyes, his fangs biting at his own lip, his arched neck. As I suck, I slide one hand down his length to his velvety balls.

I squeeze gently and he bucks wildly, driving his cock down my throat again as he comes. Eagerly I drink down the thick emission, and pull back to lick lightly at the tip of his cock as it begins to soften.

As Angel frees my head from his grip, I straighten my back and glance up at him. His eyes are hooded, his nostrils flared, as he lounges, relaxed and sated. At that moment, my own throbbing cock makes its presence known and I groan softly.

He smirks, his eyes traveling down my body, and I glower back at him, my hands clenched into fists on my knees, as I try to control my unruly member. It jumps even more as his eyes light on it.

"Get up," Angel murmurs, and I struggle to my feet, swaying slightly as all the blood rushes to my dick. He sits up straighter and locks his legs around my knees, jerking me forward. Falling, I grab the back of the chair, then moan as his tongue lashes one of my pebbled nipples.

As he licks, he wraps one big hand around the base of my cock and squeezes until I yell, nearly mad with need. Then he frees me and I stumble backwards, nearly falling.

"In the drawer next to my bed is a cock ring; put it on."

That's taking the fun a bit too far, and I shake my head, growling at him.

Before I can move, he's on me, pressing me down on my back on the desk, grinding his hardening cock against my stomach, as his hisses, "If you ever want to come again, do as I say."

"Fuck you," I spit at him.

Laughing, he grabs my legs and shoves them towards my shoulders. His free hand brushes my cock aside, then he's pounding into me again, my refusals having aroused him to the point of steel hardness. Angel leans forward, using his body to hold my legs down, as his pelvis pummels my tender ass.

All I can do is growl and squirm, which only succeeds in making him grin even wider. Finally, I stop wriggling, and grit my teeth and glare at him.

"I had forgotten how much fun this could be," he chuckles.

I refuse to answer, knowing anything I say will only please him more. I ruefully admit to myself that he already knows I'm enjoying this far too much, no matter what I say or do.

My need is so great, my cock is nearly burning against my stomach, throbbing between us.

Without missing a thrust, Angel hooks my legs over his shoulders and leans forward, rubbing his stomach against my boner until I'm nearly in tears. Fuck, it hurts. Without looking at it, I know it's purple with strangulated lust. My balls feel like they weigh a ton, and all I want to do is spew my dead seed over every inch of my sire.

His thrusts become erratic, jerky, and I realize he's close to coming again. I bite deeply into my lower lip to keep from begging him to make me come, too.

He smirks, and I irrationally flail one hand up to hit at him, only to have it fall lifelessly at my side as he reaches between us and pumps my cock. I'm so caught up in the moment, straining for release, that I ignore the pain of my tender flesh, and arch against him, driving his cock deeper into my torn passage.

Hot and cold flood me and stars flash behind my closed eyes. One finger flicks over the super-sensitive slit of my dick and I thrash wildly, exploding into an orgasm that goes on and on, until I finally fall limp and gasping beneath him.

Only half-aware, I feel him shudder and come, his cold seed soothing my torn tissues. Angel slides his cock from me and leans down to place a heated kiss on my arched neck, lapping at the dried blood from my already healed split lip.

"Good girl..."

My howl of outrage is cut off by his mouth on mine, and I sigh with pleasure, as my cock twitches between us. Our bodies begin gently to rock together, as the kiss deepens, our tongues dueling. My arms wrap around my sire's broad shoulders and my legs go around his hips, and I willingly surrender.

No one can make me feel such painful ecstasy, such wild emotion, such deeply hidden need to be submissive.

And, that's the way it should be for a sire and childe.

Though I'll never admit that to *him*.

End