Childe (A Spangel A~Z Ficlet)
Rating: M
Pairing: Spangel
Word Count: 782
Warnings: Smut, biting, blood drinking, rekindled relationship, emo-porn, pwp, Sire/Childe dynamics, vampire dynamics
Summary: Sometimes, all it takes is a single word to make everything fall into place.
“Childe.”
Amazing how that one word could sound like a blessing and a curse. Made him feel as though he were at once a whore and a saint as it filled his ears, falling to his knees before the only god he would ever worship. Left him wondering what he would find if he looked up into those gold-threaded dark brown eyes, redemption or condemnation?
“My beautiful Childe.”
Strong fingers trailing softly through gel-slicked hair, guiding him. Towards salvation or damnation, he cared not which. Heaven or Hell, made no difference here in the solace of their own private Eden. Souls brought bare in the flicker of candlelight, no longer able nor willing to hide from all they had wrought.
“Sweet Will. Always my perfect Childe.”
He chanced a look, his throat catching at the lovelustlonging he found there. Eyes shining amber as they stared back, and for once, in all his many years, he truly missed his reflection, wished he could see himself there, in those ever-widening pupils, wished Angel could see his own, too. Windows to the soul, but theirs were still too darkened to see through to the other side.
Fingers trailing, along and away, beckoning him forward as his dark avenger fell back against downy pillows and silk sheets. Voice deep and lilting as the brogue threaded through, calling for him, and he was helpless to refuse, unwilling to do anything other than follow that same path.
“Spike. Come here, my lovely Childe. My William.”
Crawling across the luxuriant bedding, head bowed in supplication until the firm grip on his jaw urged him closer. Yielding eagerly to cool lips pressed hungrily against his own, each kiss washing away another smudge of hellpitch from his dead heart, pulling him closer to the light yet forbidden to them both.
“Angel, please...need you.”
“Love it when you beg so pretty, my bonny Childe.”
Hands tugged at leather, and cotton, pushed dark silk over ever-tense shoulders, desperate for the balm of lust-warmed skin. Fingertips caressing, smoothing over battle-hardened muscles and pale planes of willing flesh. Bared bodies pressed together as tongue and teeth map out familiar territory, memorize it anew, planting fresh blooms that will too soon fade away and leave the landscape of marked skin once again unblemished.
“Please, Sire, Angel, ‘s not enough. More, luv. Christ, wanna feel you, always.”
“Could never deny you, my boy, my lively one. My favored Childe. Mine.”
Fingers pressed slowly, gently, as lips soothed, distracted, devoured every proffered moan and whimper. Muscles loosened, allowed entrance too long denied; never again. Too long spent fighting, spitting at each other like crazed panthers; no more would they fight against their hearts, their souls. Cravings rekindled, flames stoking electric heat across cool skin.
“Now.”
“Not enough, Will. Don’t want to-”
“Like it to hurt, Da. Now…”
“Jesus!”
Backs arched, hips pushed as passion climbed higher, bucking and clawing, zipping down their spines. Faces rippled, bones crunched, shifted, nails sharpened as eyes blinked, chocolate and storm-darkened sky turned molten gold. Fangs descended, flashing sharp and hungry behind kiss-stung lips. Senses heightened, feeding off swirling scents of stolen blood and long-repressed arousal.
“Fuck, ‘Gelus, Da...Sire. Harder, Angel, luv, please!”
“My insatiable, willful Childe, never enough for you, is it boy?”
“Never.”
Legs and arms moved, quick as a flash. Bodies flipped, fingers wrapped around slender wrists, pinning pale arms above curly, blonde hair. Thrusts pushed deeper, sped them towards the release they’d longed for for countless years. Broad chest pressed heavy and comforting against his and he leaned into it, still not close enough to close the circle. Calves locked around thighs, pulling, knees digging into pistoning hips, urging Angel in ways words never could. He turned his head, throat bared in offering.
“Do it, Da.”
“My Childe…”
Fangs sliced through giving flesh, like still-glowing blades through butter. Simpering moans and rumbling growls filled the silence of the half-lit room as his blood pooled on Angel’s tongue. Too soon that deadly, luscious mouth pulled away, found his lips to bruise and stain them red. Clipped grunts and wanton moans turned to keens and cries as muscles seized and rippled, hips faltering in their brutal pace, stilling as white-hot pleasure overtook them, held them in time like flies trapped in amber. Souls shining bright as the forbidden sun as their gazes locked, imagined reflections glimpsed in yellow before contorted bodies fell lax, collapsing together with heavy, unneeded breaths, hands once more gentle and soothing as they wrapped around each other. Lips and tongues soft and sweet, wiping away sweat and blood.
"Mine. My sweet William, my Spike. My Childe.”
“Yours, Liam. Your boy, Angel, luv. Your Childe. Always.”
Pairing: Spangel
Word Count: 782
Warnings: Smut, biting, blood drinking, rekindled relationship, emo-porn, pwp, Sire/Childe dynamics, vampire dynamics
Summary: Sometimes, all it takes is a single word to make everything fall into place.
“Childe.”
Amazing how that one word could sound like a blessing and a curse. Made him feel as though he were at once a whore and a saint as it filled his ears, falling to his knees before the only god he would ever worship. Left him wondering what he would find if he looked up into those gold-threaded dark brown eyes, redemption or condemnation?
“My beautiful Childe.”
Strong fingers trailing softly through gel-slicked hair, guiding him. Towards salvation or damnation, he cared not which. Heaven or Hell, made no difference here in the solace of their own private Eden. Souls brought bare in the flicker of candlelight, no longer able nor willing to hide from all they had wrought.
“Sweet Will. Always my perfect Childe.”
He chanced a look, his throat catching at the lovelustlonging he found there. Eyes shining amber as they stared back, and for once, in all his many years, he truly missed his reflection, wished he could see himself there, in those ever-widening pupils, wished Angel could see his own, too. Windows to the soul, but theirs were still too darkened to see through to the other side.
Fingers trailing, along and away, beckoning him forward as his dark avenger fell back against downy pillows and silk sheets. Voice deep and lilting as the brogue threaded through, calling for him, and he was helpless to refuse, unwilling to do anything other than follow that same path.
“Spike. Come here, my lovely Childe. My William.”
Crawling across the luxuriant bedding, head bowed in supplication until the firm grip on his jaw urged him closer. Yielding eagerly to cool lips pressed hungrily against his own, each kiss washing away another smudge of hellpitch from his dead heart, pulling him closer to the light yet forbidden to them both.
“Angel, please...need you.”
“Love it when you beg so pretty, my bonny Childe.”
Hands tugged at leather, and cotton, pushed dark silk over ever-tense shoulders, desperate for the balm of lust-warmed skin. Fingertips caressing, smoothing over battle-hardened muscles and pale planes of willing flesh. Bared bodies pressed together as tongue and teeth map out familiar territory, memorize it anew, planting fresh blooms that will too soon fade away and leave the landscape of marked skin once again unblemished.
“Please, Sire, Angel, ‘s not enough. More, luv. Christ, wanna feel you, always.”
“Could never deny you, my boy, my lively one. My favored Childe. Mine.”
Fingers pressed slowly, gently, as lips soothed, distracted, devoured every proffered moan and whimper. Muscles loosened, allowed entrance too long denied; never again. Too long spent fighting, spitting at each other like crazed panthers; no more would they fight against their hearts, their souls. Cravings rekindled, flames stoking electric heat across cool skin.
“Now.”
“Not enough, Will. Don’t want to-”
“Like it to hurt, Da. Now…”
“Jesus!”
Backs arched, hips pushed as passion climbed higher, bucking and clawing, zipping down their spines. Faces rippled, bones crunched, shifted, nails sharpened as eyes blinked, chocolate and storm-darkened sky turned molten gold. Fangs descended, flashing sharp and hungry behind kiss-stung lips. Senses heightened, feeding off swirling scents of stolen blood and long-repressed arousal.
“Fuck, ‘Gelus, Da...Sire. Harder, Angel, luv, please!”
“My insatiable, willful Childe, never enough for you, is it boy?”
“Never.”
Legs and arms moved, quick as a flash. Bodies flipped, fingers wrapped around slender wrists, pinning pale arms above curly, blonde hair. Thrusts pushed deeper, sped them towards the release they’d longed for for countless years. Broad chest pressed heavy and comforting against his and he leaned into it, still not close enough to close the circle. Calves locked around thighs, pulling, knees digging into pistoning hips, urging Angel in ways words never could. He turned his head, throat bared in offering.
“Do it, Da.”
“My Childe…”
Fangs sliced through giving flesh, like still-glowing blades through butter. Simpering moans and rumbling growls filled the silence of the half-lit room as his blood pooled on Angel’s tongue. Too soon that deadly, luscious mouth pulled away, found his lips to bruise and stain them red. Clipped grunts and wanton moans turned to keens and cries as muscles seized and rippled, hips faltering in their brutal pace, stilling as white-hot pleasure overtook them, held them in time like flies trapped in amber. Souls shining bright as the forbidden sun as their gazes locked, imagined reflections glimpsed in yellow before contorted bodies fell lax, collapsing together with heavy, unneeded breaths, hands once more gentle and soothing as they wrapped around each other. Lips and tongues soft and sweet, wiping away sweat and blood.
"Mine. My sweet William, my Spike. My Childe.”
“Yours, Liam. Your boy, Angel, luv. Your Childe. Always.”