FIC: "Toys and Games", Angelus/Drusilla/Spike
Title: Toys and Games
Author: hawkeyecat
Community: wordclaim50
Fandom; Pairing: Buffyverse; Angelus/Drusilla/Spike
Rating: NC-17/Adult
Prompt: PWP
Warnings: Dark, very dubious consent, kinkiness involving bloodplay (but they're vampires; that's expected).
Notes: This is actually my first ever Buffyverse piece, and Drusilla is pure crack to write. Constructive criticism is, as always, welcome. No spoilers.
Words: 786
Summary: Spike and Angel have "never been intimate, 'cept that once".
Never, never, never agree to Dru’s games. Should have known it from before, and now know it again. At least know the terms.
It’s all well and good when they’re sex games. Proper sex games, that is, not ones ending with Dru holding his arms down and singing cheerily to herself as he’s forcibly bent forward over a fence in the middle of Nowhere, France, Angelus behind. “My boy,” she coos. “Daddy has a treat for you.”
“Not hungry,” he growls, trying to pull away, and Dru’s face falls. Could she just not do that when he doesn’t want what she wants? For once? Now would be a good time, give him some choice in the bloody matter.
Wrong word choice, Spike, because Dru’s face is lighting up. “Blood!” she cries, throwing her head back. “Puppy wants blood, Daddy.”
“He wants blood, baby?” Angelus’ fangs tear into the side of his neck, not at the vein, just enough to ooze blood, and Spike turns, snarling at him. Angelus laughs, kissing-biting his mouth, big hands holding his head still. Of all the wankers to have as a sire…
“Not there, my Angel,” Dru pouts, and Spike’s helpless yet again to go along with what she wants. Eventually, he’ll get past giving into that pout every time it appears. It’ll just take a bit longer. “With his treat.”
Spike’s eyes widen, and he struggles that much harder to get away from them both. Where the hell is Darla? He’ll be glad to see that bitch if it gets him out of this bind.
Above him, Drusilla laughs sweetly, sinking her nails into his arms. “Be a good boy for Mummy, Spike. Mummy worked hard to get you your treat.”
“That she did, William.” The disdain and amusement is evident in Angelus’ tone as those big hands land on his hips. “Hard on her back and her knees, my boy.”
“She did not!” Angelus just laughs, and Dru doesn’t say anything. “Drusilla…”
“I asked the moon,” she sing-songs. “And the moon asked the sun, and the sun told the stars to tell my Angel yes.” She lowers her voice conspiratorially. “The earth almost said no, but I made it agree.”
Spike can almost hear Angelus’ smirk. “You know what that means, William? It means she let me-”
“Naughty, naughty,” Dru scolds. “No telling tales. You won’t get your treat if you do.”
The hands on Spike’s hips shift, thumbs sliding in to pull his arse apart. “My treat’s right here, Dru.”
“No,” Spike growls, “it’s not. Your treat’s with that bitch sire of yours.” Maybe he should have considered his timing better, because Angelus’ hands squeeze painfully hard, making him yelp. “That’s going to bruise, you great pillock!”
“You watch your mouth about Darla,” Angelus growls, raking fangs down his arse, just enough to make him shudder. He really doesn’t know where Angelus is going to use them next.
“Or you’ll what? Stake me?” Spike can’t quite muster up the proper mockery of the idea. Something to do with his arse literally being in Angelus’ hands.
“No staking,” Dru interrupts. “Not my Spike. Dust Darla if you dust him.”
“Glad to know I’m still worth something to you, Dru. Now will you let me up?” It’s worth a try, at any rate.
Dru bends to meet his eyes, her own glittering. “Haven’t had your treat yet. Want it, don’t you?”
Some part of his mind is telling him he should have looked away, but he can’t do anything but nod. “Want it,” he echoes, and Angelus laughs darkly, tearing into the flesh of his arse with his fangs. There’s blood, all right-Spike can feel it oozing steadily, not to mention the actual pain of the tears.
All that’s overshadowed by Angelus actually shoving into him. Who knew the prat is so big around? Spike cries out, lurching forward, closer to Dru, and she claps gleefully before crouching to kiss him, soft and sweet. “Isn’t that better, my sweet? You like your treat.”
“Hate my treat,” Spike grits out, closing his eyes and panting even though there’s no reason. “Hurts like-bloody hell, mate, sure you’re not using a branch?”
Dru whines softly, pulling away. “Mummy picked it special.”
“Don’t want to make Mummy cry, do you, William?” Angelus is bloody sadistic about shagging, taking his time pulling out and thrusting back in hard. “I’d get upset if you did.”
“And do what, shag me harder?” Spike snaps. All the same, he looks back at Dru. “I’m sorry, pet. Love-” Angelus thrusts particularly hard, and Spike yelps. “-my treat,” he finishes raggedly.
“Good boy. Now enjoy it, Mummy can’t get it for you again.”
Thank God.
Author: hawkeyecat
Community: wordclaim50
Fandom; Pairing: Buffyverse; Angelus/Drusilla/Spike
Rating: NC-17/Adult
Prompt: PWP
Warnings: Dark, very dubious consent, kinkiness involving bloodplay (but they're vampires; that's expected).
Notes: This is actually my first ever Buffyverse piece, and Drusilla is pure crack to write. Constructive criticism is, as always, welcome. No spoilers.
Words: 786
Summary: Spike and Angel have "never been intimate, 'cept that once".
Never, never, never agree to Dru’s games. Should have known it from before, and now know it again. At least know the terms.
It’s all well and good when they’re sex games. Proper sex games, that is, not ones ending with Dru holding his arms down and singing cheerily to herself as he’s forcibly bent forward over a fence in the middle of Nowhere, France, Angelus behind. “My boy,” she coos. “Daddy has a treat for you.”
“Not hungry,” he growls, trying to pull away, and Dru’s face falls. Could she just not do that when he doesn’t want what she wants? For once? Now would be a good time, give him some choice in the bloody matter.
Wrong word choice, Spike, because Dru’s face is lighting up. “Blood!” she cries, throwing her head back. “Puppy wants blood, Daddy.”
“He wants blood, baby?” Angelus’ fangs tear into the side of his neck, not at the vein, just enough to ooze blood, and Spike turns, snarling at him. Angelus laughs, kissing-biting his mouth, big hands holding his head still. Of all the wankers to have as a sire…
“Not there, my Angel,” Dru pouts, and Spike’s helpless yet again to go along with what she wants. Eventually, he’ll get past giving into that pout every time it appears. It’ll just take a bit longer. “With his treat.”
Spike’s eyes widen, and he struggles that much harder to get away from them both. Where the hell is Darla? He’ll be glad to see that bitch if it gets him out of this bind.
Above him, Drusilla laughs sweetly, sinking her nails into his arms. “Be a good boy for Mummy, Spike. Mummy worked hard to get you your treat.”
“That she did, William.” The disdain and amusement is evident in Angelus’ tone as those big hands land on his hips. “Hard on her back and her knees, my boy.”
“She did not!” Angelus just laughs, and Dru doesn’t say anything. “Drusilla…”
“I asked the moon,” she sing-songs. “And the moon asked the sun, and the sun told the stars to tell my Angel yes.” She lowers her voice conspiratorially. “The earth almost said no, but I made it agree.”
Spike can almost hear Angelus’ smirk. “You know what that means, William? It means she let me-”
“Naughty, naughty,” Dru scolds. “No telling tales. You won’t get your treat if you do.”
The hands on Spike’s hips shift, thumbs sliding in to pull his arse apart. “My treat’s right here, Dru.”
“No,” Spike growls, “it’s not. Your treat’s with that bitch sire of yours.” Maybe he should have considered his timing better, because Angelus’ hands squeeze painfully hard, making him yelp. “That’s going to bruise, you great pillock!”
“You watch your mouth about Darla,” Angelus growls, raking fangs down his arse, just enough to make him shudder. He really doesn’t know where Angelus is going to use them next.
“Or you’ll what? Stake me?” Spike can’t quite muster up the proper mockery of the idea. Something to do with his arse literally being in Angelus’ hands.
“No staking,” Dru interrupts. “Not my Spike. Dust Darla if you dust him.”
“Glad to know I’m still worth something to you, Dru. Now will you let me up?” It’s worth a try, at any rate.
Dru bends to meet his eyes, her own glittering. “Haven’t had your treat yet. Want it, don’t you?”
Some part of his mind is telling him he should have looked away, but he can’t do anything but nod. “Want it,” he echoes, and Angelus laughs darkly, tearing into the flesh of his arse with his fangs. There’s blood, all right-Spike can feel it oozing steadily, not to mention the actual pain of the tears.
All that’s overshadowed by Angelus actually shoving into him. Who knew the prat is so big around? Spike cries out, lurching forward, closer to Dru, and she claps gleefully before crouching to kiss him, soft and sweet. “Isn’t that better, my sweet? You like your treat.”
“Hate my treat,” Spike grits out, closing his eyes and panting even though there’s no reason. “Hurts like-bloody hell, mate, sure you’re not using a branch?”
Dru whines softly, pulling away. “Mummy picked it special.”
“Don’t want to make Mummy cry, do you, William?” Angelus is bloody sadistic about shagging, taking his time pulling out and thrusting back in hard. “I’d get upset if you did.”
“And do what, shag me harder?” Spike snaps. All the same, he looks back at Dru. “I’m sorry, pet. Love-” Angelus thrusts particularly hard, and Spike yelps. “-my treat,” he finishes raggedly.
“Good boy. Now enjoy it, Mummy can’t get it for you again.”
Thank God.