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Thralls	By : neichan Category: AtS/BtVS Crossovers > Slash - Male/Male > Angel(us)/Xander > Angel(us)/Xander Views: 10423 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own AtS or BtVS. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 34
- 35
- 36
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Spike snuggled up close behind his thrall, lowering his head to sniff and nuzzle the nape of Oz's neck. He deposited a soft kiss there. Closing his eyes to savor the feeling. He couldn't resist the temptation to run his nose up behind the young man's ear, and lick at the shell of the ear. Oz let out a tiny squeak of surprise, shivering as he giggled. His body covered head to toe in goosebumps.

Spike's hand rubbed against the werewolf's flat belly, moving between Nic and Oz, stroking one with the back of his hand and the other with the palm. Oz's arms tightened around his fellow thrall, and Nic let out a gasp when he felt the growing arousal that was being pressed to his own stomach. Not too large, in proportion with the rest of his body, but hard as a diamond.

Then the slim youth rolled back, craning his neck to offer his mouth, keeping one arm around Nic, the other twining back to wrap around Spike's neck, not demanding, just waiting, breath coming quickly, eyes aglow, mouth lifted in patient invitation.

Spike bent down and let his mouth brush across Oz's. Feeling the eager tremble as they met. Lovely, lush heat. He could hardly believe what happened to him when he did this. Every time. He felt his heart begin to beat. Air rushing into his lungs. The tingle begin in his thighs rising to build and collect in his groin, but even more to settle and grow deep in his chest. Ahhhh. He stroked a knuckle down the lightly freckled cheek.

The gentle touch of their mouths, hot and cool as they came together, lingered, trembling on the edge of breathlessness. No tongue, no open mouths yet, just lips, nibbling at each other, clinging, pressing, innocent, yet full of desire.

Spike raised his hands and framed his first thrall's face in between his palms. His fingers stroked, tenderly mapping the features. The edge of lower lip, the one he wanted to take in his mouth and suckle, nibble on. Using his thumb to tug on it, until he saw the soft gleam of pink wetness inside.

He let his hands wander. Always gentle as they mapped, tips of fingers petting, tickling, exploring over the slightly pointed chin, pixie-ish jaw, down over the smooth contours of neck and throat, dipping into the small hollow, god!, so sexy, and wandering off along one collarbone, to come to the rounded cap of a shoulder and hold it, feel it fill his palm.

Spike's mouth melded to the mouth under his. He kissed. They kissed. And at last, they parted--those hot, full lips, air gasping out as Spike let his thrall breathe, loving the way the slender body moved under him. Panting. He peppered kisses over the open lips, both cheeks, the tip of his nose...going back to the mouth, hot, wet, inviting. The brush of mouth to mouth deepening, becoming wet and slick, entangled.

This time their tongues touched as their mouths joined. Just the very tips, touching, tasting, sliding over one another. Slow, languid, trembling contact. Spike lifted his head. Looked down into the half shut eyes, saw the way Oz strained up, up towards him, letting out small, needy sounds. Spike shivered, his skin suddenly too tight.

"Jesus!" Nic grabbed himself , squeezing hard. He pulled his tight balls away from his body, struggling for control. He was about to blow, from less than five damn minutes watching these two kiss. Just kiss and pet.

Seeing how the little man's eyes closed, how he bared his throat, shivering with each, so careful, so worshipful, touch of those firm lips on his own. Spike's fingers holding his head like the most precious thing, guiding their kiss, lips moving, feeding with sweet hunger, and careful love.

The vampire turned to Nic when he moaned. Blue-gold eyes distant, then refocusing to see him. Who he was. Nic. But only for an instant. Then the slim, pale arms, Oz's arms, wound up and around the vampire's shoulders. Embracing him closely, tightly. Rubbing their chests together. The platinum haired head lowering, until his teeth lay in the crook of neck and shoulder, grazing the sweat dewed skin.

"Oh." It was almost sub-vocal, the startled cry from the man laying on his back. His eyes going wide, his back arching, and Nic could see why. The vampire had his hand down, under the blankets, and Oz moaned at the contact of the hand on him. Lifted his hips.

"Spike!" Oz whispered, urgently, his hips stuttering in tiny thrusts. And the vampire swooped down, kissing him wildly, fangs flashing but not cutting, so damn careful. Licking, sensual, long liquid strokes of that mobile tongue. Lapping, then deliberate, nipping teeth. A gasp, and a new, wet coloring as they kissed, their mouths darkened with red, the metallic tang of blood.

Oz let out the beginnings of a growl, trailing off into a delicious whimper. Spike answered. Nic froze, not understanding why the sound made him moan out loud instead of run, but it did. He was shaking, rolling his body over to plaster himself against them. His hand curving over the hip of the vampire. It was cool-warm, muscles moving under white skin.

Not even the sight of two fang bristling mouths put him off.

Unlike the piercing shriek from somewhere outside the room. They froze, all three, Spike's head snapping up. Nic spinning to face the door, heart racing like a trip-hammer. No one came in. But, the shrieking continued. All his arousal was redirected to fight or flight. Hard as a rock to limp as a noodle in three seconds flat.

"Sod it! Piss poor timing!" Spike was up and out of bed, erect but fading as he shoved himself into his black jeans with sharp irritated movements. "Bleeding inconsiderate it is." Then he threw the door open and dashed out, still swearing. Nic and Oz were left on the bed, Nic crouched low, in front of Oz. He got up, keeping low to the ground, one hand cupped protectively over his groin, peering outside cautiously, seeing no one. Hearing plenty as the ranting kept on, the volume growing.

Nic strode back to the bed looking around,heading for the dresser. "Do I have clothes around here somewhere? I'd really like to be dressed when the mob invades." He didn't see anything of his, nor of a size he could fit comfortably. Oz eyed him.

"I think I can find you something."

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Cordelia was livid. She took several steps nearer to Angel, and the light and dark vampires who rose from their knees and moved to intercept her before she could reach him. She shook a finger at him, shoving at the two vamps she didn't know. "Don't you touch him! He is mine, Angel. He was mine before you tried to steal him. He is still mine! Doyle! Tell him."

"Cordelia!" Lorne hissed from behind her. "Now is *not* the time." He tried to catch her attention. She ignored him. He scooted forward on his knees. "Princess!"

Doyle moaned, curling in on himself. Angel holding him, one hand on the bare curve of his lower back, Doyle hiding his face in the vampire's hip, his hands covering his ears. The half-demon shaking under the weight of each yelled word striking him every bit as hard as a physical blow. Pain tore through him. He couldn't be hers. No matter if it was all he wanted. He no longer had the choice. He sobbed. His beautiful princess.

The Grimm watched the growing confrontation with more than a little interest, moving closer as well. They sniffed at the air as they neared the vampires, all their eyes moving towards Alistair as he came closer to them. He didn't notice the attention, the fascination, how they all leaned in, noses pointing at him, he was intent on foiling Cordelia's attempts to get to Doyle, until it was too late.

Cordelia advanced until she smacked into Balthazar for the second time and glared up at him, as if noticing him for the first time. "Excuse me!" She snapped. Then, when he didn't leap out of her way, "How rude! Hello! *Excuse* me?! Will you please move your skinny butt out of my way!?" He looked down at her stonily.

Alistair made to step forward, when the Grimm moved. The entire seven bodies of the demon moved in accord, circling and surrounding the blond vampire, fourteen hands reaching for him. Drawing him in. He flinched as he disappeared into their mass, vanishing from view in the space of a second. His face was stark white, lips compressed as he strained futiley against their combined power. They closed around him absorbing him into them.

Gunn started towards the group automatically, once more cursing his lack of weapons, even as Angel quickly set Doyle down, gaining his feet. Balthazar looked from Angel to Cordelia, to the Grimm, barely interested in any of them except Angel and Wesley. Wesley jumped forward, grabbing at the vampire's arm.

"No. Don't." Wesley begged. His puplis were dilated. Balthazar brushed his hand off and pushed Wesley down next to Doyle. Lorne rushed over to them, holding Wesley down on the seat of the chair, slipping his other arm around the weeping Doyle. "Shhhh." The green demon soothed, tucking Doyle's dark head under his chin and crooning to him. He fought to hold Wesley down next to them, out of harm's way. The Grimm would squash Wes like a bug. "Wes, don't make things worse! Stay out of the way!"

Balthazar stared at Lorne, his dark eyes pools of fire, his gaze taking in the green hand on Wesley's chest, he showed the Host a flash of warning fang, then turned away, and followed Angel, reaching his side as Angel plowed into the Grimm. Angel grabbed two of them and heaved.

Forcing the demons apart, seeing Alistair in the center of them, hair down, hanging in a golden-blond wave to his hips. The One Grimm was running honey colored fingers through the silken tresses. For the first time, not moving together as one with the others of the Grimm. The One looked up in mild surprise that Angel had managed to move the rest of the Grimm aside.

"Angelus." The One acknowledged the vampire, having trouble taking his gaze and his attention off of the second vampire he held in his arms. Alistair had managed to draw his knees up and keep his doubled legs between himself and the enamored demon. A second Grimm reached out, touched the blond hair, shuffled fluidly closer, scenting the nape of his neck. Alistair resisted, shoving back with a sharp elbow. Then a third moved in, he kicked out with one leg. Then all, surging in, tighter surrounding him. Angel let out a sound of great displeasure, seizing the nearest to him and shoving him aside.

"Stop. He is mine, Grimm. Let him go." Angel warned the threat in his voice strong, his eyes flashing out gold sparkling fire, his face to gameface, and his fangs at full extension, an unmistakable message to the other demon to back off. The Grimm rippled all around him, Balthazar and Gunn forced their way in next to him. The Grimm grumbled unhappily. Sounding like a very big, very sulky child.

Gunn wondering just how crazy he was to be doing this as the feeling of claustophobia grew. They all towered over him, big, and hot, the heat radiating from the close packed bodies. He stayed where he was, next to Angel by sheer force of will. He would have much rather have climbed up out of the crowd, over the top of their heads if need be. But he stayed, back to back with Angel and Balthazar. To save one of Angel's people. For a vampire no less. Yet, when Angel plucked Alistair out of the One's hands, he helped, shouldering his way between the One and the blond.

Alistair himself pushed the Grimm back, using both feet and both arms, and away, pressing his back hard into Gunn and Angel, Angel's arm going around his waist. Lifting him up and over a shoulder then forcing his way out. The Grimm reluctantly fell away.

"He smells good, son of Aurelius." The Grimm rumbled, gratingly. "We would like to taste him."

"No. You can't taste him, he is mine." Angel asserted irritably as Gunn and Balthazar worked themselves out of the mass of the demon. The Grimm nodded reluctantly, as if understanding. Gunn blinked. Was the demon *pouting*? He shook his head to clear it. Naw. Couldn't be.

"And the other? The Yelling Female? Is she also yours?" The Grimm inquired, the grating tone holding a tinge of hopefulness. Angel frowned. Wesley let out a shout, struggling aginst Lorne's hold. Lorne clapped a hand over the smaller man's mouth.

"Hush," The larger demon hissed. "For Pete's Sake! Just be quiet!" Wesley struggled against the hold, but Lorne was strong.

"No, she is not...but..." Angel never finished the sentence as the Grimm whirled and converged on the gaping brunette. She let out a piercing shriek, not the first of the day, and everyone cringed, everyone but the Grimm, who rumbled in answer, beaming in delight. Angel was flumoxed by their apparent pleasure in the shrill yells.

"Such wonderful fire. Energy! She will be a fine mate. A Queen." The Grimm said, petting her as they held her up over their heads, nearly at the ceiling. Wesley struggled harder and Lorne rolled over on top of him, using his greater weight to hold the man down, as well as smother his shouts of outraged protest.

Spike barely leaped out of the way in time to keep from being run down by the seven as they barrelled out of the door. He stared after them, shuddering, no one liked to mess with the keepers, the Grimm. He squinted, they were carrying someone, he saw a flash of expensive high heels, and a very nice ankle, too....Spike hurried into the room the Grimm had just left. He waved an arm over his shoulder, indicating the rapidly disappearing horde.

"They took someone..." He began. Looking from pale face to pale face. Even the dark, unsmiling vampire looked out of sorts, stunned. All except the one vampire who stood in the center of it all. His Sire. Angel looked pensive.

Angel nodded. "I know." He replied when Spike snorted impatiently.

"Well, aren't we going to stop them?" The platinum haired vampire asked, puzzled. His Sire always did the right thing, he'd go after anyone and anything to rescue one of his own. It was his biggest weakness. For him to just let them take one of his own...Spike stared.

Angel shook his head. "I don't know. I am trying to think if it is a bad thing, or a good thing."

Spike was speechless.

ne'ichan
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- 36
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Thralls