***
There are three lions seemingly sleeping in their huge indoor enclosure. Many bars and alot of concrete, and that seems to be it. I suppose the zoo figured that the giant, multi-locked metal door would be an adequate barrier. The zoo never met Spike.
``They`re gorgeous...`` is the most intelligent thing I can think of to say, because, well, because they are. Gorgeous and lazy and golden. Sorta like Spike. They don`t even seem to notice that we`re here. Or perhaps they just don`t care. If I was that big I don`t think I`d care either. Pretty much everything that walks around is...food. Again, sorta like Spike.
``We don`t have a scent, mate. That`s why they`re so mellow.`` he says, and yea, I guess that makes sense. I just nod, and stand, and stare stupidly at the mass of tangled gold fur and muscled limbs until his chiding voice breaks my reverie.
***
``Lean up against that cage, Peaches. Lemme see that stupid tattoo next to the real thing.`` I tell him. He eyes me suspiciously. Peaches may be a bit light in his loafers but he ain`t stupid. I affect my most innocent look. You know. Lip out, head bowed, slow blinks. That, and I cradle my belt buckle in thumbs and forefingers. Always helps to accentuate the positive.
His gaze drops to directly below my waist level and I suppress a grin. Of course he`s still gotta argue with me. ``Spike, there *is* no real thing. I`ve told you a million times it`s a Griffin! It`s mythological. It doesn`t really *exist*.``
No shit. No wonder he`s a detective. ``Yea, yea. Just shut up and do as yer told, will ya? Personally, I think yer afraid that pansy ass drawing will look bloody silly next to a --``
Well whatdya know. He`s doin` it. Musta been the beltloop trick. Gets him every time. He lifts his shirt over his head and leans in next to the cage. ``Are you happy now?`` he mutters over his shoulder, and I step in for the kill.
``Now I am.`` With that, his arms are spread, wrists against the bars, and I`ve got him right where I want him.
***
Fuck! ``Fuck! Spike this isn`t funny!`` The little bleached moron has me handcuffed to a goddamn lions` cage. The large beasts are eyeing me with what I swear looks like thinly veiled amusement.
``Get these fucking things off, boy!`` You know, it`s difficult to hear myself shouting over his laughter.
``Now, now, sweets. That`s no way to talk to the man who`s holdin the key, is it?`` he purrs back at me; and I hear the clink of metal on concrete as said key drops to his feet. I`m going to kill him. I`m going to kill him, and I`m going to enjoy doing it, and --
Jesus Christ, what the hell does he think he is doing?
***
Oh yea. Right where I want him.
All cuffed and helpless and soon to be quite naked. And pissed off...but
there`s nothing I can do about that right now. Later on he`ll forget all
about bein` mad. Or, he`ll beat the crap out of me and fuck me into the
floor. Either way, I can`t really lose.
So his shirt is tucked in front of his neck, and his pants are down round his ankles, and pretty soon he`s gonna be --
``----fucking kill you you sorry motherfucking excuse for a vampire!``
Yea, yea.
I start at his ankles. Long, slow licks and gentle nibbles with just a bit of teeth. No fangs yet. Later. We got all night. He sure as hell isn`t going anywhere.
``Shhh...c`mon love,`` I whisper against his cool skin. ``You don`t wanna piss off the natives, now do ya? I mean, they look all cute n cuddly *now* but they could probably kick your ass...`specially all tied up like that. I watch the Discovery Channel...I could give ya a few pointers.``
He`d been rattling the chains a bit, but wisely enough he concedes my point. He stills some, and curses me in more muted tones. ``I`m going to kick your ass, Spike,`` he warns me. I just grin against his calf, biting into the muscled flesh hard enough to draw two tiny specks of blood. I lap at it and he cannot repress a shudder.
``I`m looking forward to it, pet. But for now, just shut yer mouth.``
A low growl is his only reply.
***
He is working his way up my body with that talented mouth. What a pity it`s wasted on being attatched to that insolent fucking head. He has the longest, softest tongue. He`s using it on the back of my knees and I will not moan, I will not give in, I will no---
``Oooh...fuck,.`` is torn from my chest before I can call it back, and he laughs again, so quietly, against the backs of my thighs...
``Mmm, you know I love it when you cuss, Peaches,`` he whispers, the taunt evident in that silky tone.
That`s it. I`ll eat the insides of my lips before I give in to that again.
***
He`s chewing on the inside of his mouth. I know this, because he`s dripping blood onto the floor in front of the cage. I can see the big cats` noses twitching slightly in interest. Did I say Peaches was smart? I lied.
``Uh, love?`` I murmur, as I slide my hands around to the front of his thighs, and stroke in rythym with the smooth licking to the back. ``Bleeding is probably a really bad plan.`` I gesture to the cage. ``Hunting animals. Top of the food chain `n all that rot. Yer gonna wanna quit that.``
``Fuck, `` he mutters again, and I grin triumphantly. I begin running my tongue in lazy circles over the small of his back, and he arches into the caress.
``There`s a good pet. Also might wanna keep your eyes down...avoid that whole challenging the dominant male gig too..course, yer all chained up. They`re not likely to confuse you with the *dominant* male anyway....``
Hm. He roars very nicely. Keeps that up and the girl lion is gonna take a fancy to him.
***
Ok. Right now there are parts of me that are *way* too close to the inside of a lion`s cage for comfort. And with every stroke of that clever tongue, those parts are growing more and more noticable. His mouth is travelling up the length of my spine now, seeking out each crevice and bump, fastening wet, chilly lips along every ridge. I am shaking despite my resolve, and for godssake, he cannot possibly want my dick to get eaten by a lion. I mean, he *needs* that body part...right?
``Spike...., `` I moan, and it sounds alot more like a supplication than I originally intended, but hell, beg now, live to kick ass later. When it comes to the dick, men have no pride...
``Yea, pet?`` the hushed voice on the nape of my neck, and every hair stands on end. ``You need somethin?`` Voice in my ear now, tip of his tongue dancing along the lobe and the curves and whirls of skin, breath and silken whisper. I groan again, and he reaches an arm around my waist, holds me steady, holds me against him. I forget what I want to say...
A rustle of skin and fur and a muffled yawn from within the confines of the cage. I swallow hard. Oh yea.
``I really think I need to get away from this cage now. There are body parts in imminent danger.`` If the words are slightly less forceful than I`d intended I have to chalk it up to his fingertips trailing the line of hair down my chest and stomach, and his denim clad crotch burrowing against my naked ass. I`m lucky I can speak in full sentences.
``Well, we can fix that,`` he rumbles seductively, and presses me lower to the ground. My arms slide down the bars, and I am on my knees. Still connected by locks and metal to this cage. Still powerless. But as he lifts the curls of hair off my neck and presses his kisses against the sensitive flesh there, infinitely less annoyed.
***
Christ but I love it when he`s obedient.
It`s bloody well rare, I assure you. He must have taken quite a few kickings
of his ass by Darla. Yea, come to think of it I might have witnessed a
couple. Bitch had nothing on me. Anyone can *make* somebody bend to their
will. It`s a damn sight harder to get somebody to surrender voluntarily.
The sight of Angel naked, bound and willingly on his knees in front of
me is... art, pure and simple. Course my idea of art also encompasses blood
spattered war scenes and naked birds on motorcycles. `Cept those kinds
of art don`t squirm when you touch `em like this...hand on his hip, fingertips
fluttering over the bone, and he moans. He`s a bit of a moaner, the souled
version of me Sire. Used to be much more of a screamer. Tongue seeking
out his ticklish spots, more delightful squirming. He`s panting already,
in anticipation, opening his thighs, and leaning forward....
***
I regret alot of things about my
soul-less years. I regret most of what I did to Spike, and everything I
taught him. Most of all at this moment, I regret teaching him how to tease
someone mercilessly until they beg for you to stop. His mouth is growing
hotter as it seeks out every inch of flesh that he knows will make me writhe.
Oh. Maybe it`s my skin growing hotter. About now, I
can`t really tell the difference.
Christ! Okay, I *do not* regret teaching him to put his tongue *there.*
***
``I need you to do something for
me, luv.`` I tell him, and since I`m asking with my teeth pressed firmly
to the softest spot of his neck, and my hands cupping his balls, I`m thinking
he`ll be inclined to agree.
``Wh--what...?`` he pants.
``I need for you to scream, `` I tell him; and I`d laugh at the speed with which his head whips around except it would work contrary to my cause here. Instead, I tug at the hair which brushes his shoulders, lean his head back into the crook of my arm and cover his mouth with mine. He makes the quietest, sweetest little noise...
Yea. A moaner. We`re gonna have to work on that.
***
I wonder if I had any part in teaching
him to kiss this well too. I`d like to think so. But ego aside, I would
bet he had this down long before I ever found him in that alleyway. His
tongue runs over my teeth, and I don`t even try to stop the shiver that
ripples through me.
He`s off his nut if he thinks I`m gonna scream though. *Darla* never even got me to scream.
***
I break off the kiss, bend him over
and lean my chest against his smooth, naked back. I can tell by his gasp
that he`s pondering when I had time to take my clothes off. All right,
I`m not ashamed to admit he`s taught me one or two handy tricks over the
last couple centuries. Not the least of which is how to make someone scream.
Poor bugger probably never thought it would end up being used on him, but
what the hell. He has to at least admit this method beats hot pokers in
the side, and ...best not to go there now. For some reason that memory
still tends to piss him off.
``First,`` I sigh into his neck, ``I`m going to bite you. Then, I`m going to fuck you. *Somewhere* in between the two, you`re bound to scream.``
He just snorts at me. Stubborn prick. I shrug. Fine, make me work for it.
***
His fangs are deeply embedded in
my skin, and I can feel his body convulse against mine as he drinks his
fill of me. I`d worry about the blood arousing the lions, but I know Spike.
He won`t spill a drop. When he lifts his head after a feed, there is never
a trace left on his full, red mouth. The lions look all sated and sleepy.
Very pretty really. Nice and far away, and Spike wouldn`t let anyone (else)
hurt me....
The dizzyness starts to overtake me, and I lean back against him. He holds me again, his grip strong and sure, and I relent. It`s not like I have a choice. His hand slides along my cock now, agonizingly slow and preternaturally strong. All right. Darla never made me scream because Darla never made me feel this way. Hell, noone ever made me feel this way. Noone walks the line between pleasure and pain, torture and rapture like my boy. I`d like to grin at the knowledge that I most certainly had a hand in teaching him*that* skill, but at the moment, I`m not certain I can command the muscles in my face to do much more than mouth a groan.
Now his fingers work the sensitive flesh at the tip of my cock, running in circles while his other hand grips the base and strokes...My eyes squeeze shut, my breathing stops, and I press back into his bite...Scream? Sure.. Hell, if he wanted me to tap dance in a floral mu-mu at this point, I`d probably do it.
***
The taste of his blood shifts subtly...aquiesence. Surrender. Whole and complete. I grin against the endless flow of crimson and hold a mouthful...
I pull away; he whimpers a bit, and I know he`s pretty well past giving a damn. I scan the cage quickly, no movement from within the darkened cell. Then blood in my palm, stroking my own cock, and a forward thrust.
He howls again. This time, it is a shout of pleasure. Of abandonment. Of submission. Christ. I have to bite the inside of my own lip now to keep from losing all fucking control. I close my eyes. Think about something hateful. Debussey. Riverdance. Being forced to buy new socks.
That works.
***
He`s completely still behind me,
one hand on the small of my back, the other remains firmly wrapped around
my aching cock. He wanted me to do something...that was it. Uhm..beg? Call
him Conan? What the fuck was it? Oh yea...scream. Wait. I did that...
Then I have to grin despite the momentary frustration, as I realize he`s not moving because he`s about to lose control....It`s so fragile, that balance of power between us. For a hundred years there was a desgin, a script, a certain....order. Choices eliminated by protocol, top and bottom predetermined by centuries of ideology. Now we`re equals, and there is *this*. It is intense and it is sweet and it is glorious. But it`s precarious too, and who is in control and who is in charge is determined moment by moment and ...thrust by thrust.
And I don`t care, I don`t want it, he can have it...take it...this is too good to fucking care...chain me to lion`s cage, take me to a mosh pit. G`head. Just don`t. fucking. stop.
***
I wonder if he even knows he`s screaming
now. He`s not making any goddamn sense, that`s for sure. I`d probably laugh
at his mosh pit comment if I could breathe...And who the fuck is Conan?
Good thing I don`t have to breathe to keep doing this. Really good thing
I don`t have to breathe. Cause I wouldn`t stop if the Slayer walked in,
I wouldn`t stop if the whole fucking Scooby gang materialized in front
of this cage, I wouldn`t stop if the world ended in a fiery hellish ball,
I wouldn`t stop if there were lions charging at the
...
oh. fuck.
***
A loud growl that isn`t his or mine,
blur of gold and extended claws, and my wrists being torn from their joints...
A sickening *thwap* and sharp, sudden, jarring pain to the back of my head.
Then, for a long time, there is nothing.
Hazy visage of annoyance and worry above me and still the violent pain in my head. ``Hey! hey! Wake up! Come on now, ya nonce, snap out of it!``
I struggle to sit, but it`s no use. I think I`ve become jello. Vampire jello. I hope it`s lime. O god. I`ve hit my head.
``Spike?`` I whisper, but in my brain it`s a really loud shout, and it makes me vaguely nauseous. I touch my scalp gingerly and wince. It`s still bleeding. Alot. I look at him and hope he`ll figure out that I`d really like to know what the hell just happened, but I`ll be damned if I`m going to try speech again.
``Lions. Really bloody annoyed. Really bloody fast. Long claws. Big teeth. It was all bad. You gonna live, mate?``
I take a breath and assess my injuries. Shredded wrists. Head injury. And whatdaya know still with a raging hard on. Gotta love vamp metabolism. Yea, I suppose I`ll live.
``Can we go home now?`` I mutter, and he`s already donning his jeans. He undoes the shackles from around my bruised wrists and grins at me.
``Yea. But I`m drivin. You look like shit.``
Prince Charming he never was. When I can stand up, I am going to kill him. I stand up and groan again in pain. Maybe I`ll just kill him when we get home.