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Sucker	By : bogwitch Category: Angel the Series > Het - Male/Female > Illyria/Spike(William) > Illyria/Spike(William) Views: 2367 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Angel: The Series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Sucker
- 1
Sucker
Author: Bogwitch
Email: bogwitch@yahoo.co.uk
Website: www.bogwitch.tk
Pairing:
Spike/Illyria
Rating: NC-17 (for
tentacle sex)
Notes: Sequel
to Succour. Post-Not Fade Away. For Spike, safe sex had always been a bit of an
afterthought, not any longer.
Disclaimer: No characters were harmed in the making of this fic. They do not belong to me, but are the property of Fox Entertainment and Mutant Enemy.

Wap!

Waking with a start from a slap across the chops wasn�t an unusual way for
Spike to greet the new day anymore. Neither was it a great surprise to find
Illyria�s strong thighs astride him, holding him immobile, caught in her
deadly trap. The room�s cool air circled around his nether bits with an
uncomfortable chill, where his bedclothes had gone when she�d discarded them,
he had no idea.

�I wish to mate,� she pronounced.

Ignoring the pain still searing his cheek, Spike looked up at her blearily.
He�d been having a delightful kip before her sudden interruption. �Give us a
minute to wake up first.�

�I am now bound by your linear experience of time. This is the moment of
readiness.�

Spike stretched lazily; ready to get to business. He didn�t have a clue what
the batty goddess was on about now, but he knew the futility of refusal. Her
seduction skills were still in need of work, but his cock had always been
Pavlov�s dog to bossy women and it was already hardening under her leather
bound rump, rubbing invitingly between her legs as if sensing her readiness.

�Is it now?�

�Now,� she repeated, trembling.

�Are you sure, luv?� Spike looked at her closely. As much as he would like
to think that she was shaking with anticipation, he had noticed that she had
been looking peaky of late, the pale snow of her shell�s skin sickly against
the blue in her hair, and she didn�t look any better now.

She did not reply, but her armour melted from view and she presented him with a
bony body with pallid, ashen skin accentuated with touches of midnight. The
barrier between them gone, she slid gently onto his erection.

�Guess that�s a �yes� then.�

Guilt had led to this. She�d sent him to heights of ecstasy he�d never
thought possible in her demon form, but she had accepted nothing in return. So
to maintain the balance he�d tried to give her something back while she still
inhabited her human shell. It had taken time to adjust to the weirdness of
touching Fred�s body in such an intimate way and it would always be hard to
bear, but he understood now that despite the face Illyria still wore, it was
longer Fred�s flesh under his hands or her cold corpse he held in his arms,
there was only Illyria now.

At first they�d tussled - a struggle he�d always been prepared to lose -
each looking for dominance, until Illyria had won and they had settled into a
routine. She would never lie beneath him, or allow anything that might be
beneath her dignity - and that had proved to be a long list. Illyria wanted to
command, hold dominion over him from above. Unlike Buffy, who had been content
to follow his lead as long as it suited her, Illyria had found what worked for
her and never varied. She led, he followed, and that was that.

Like this, the sex was surprisingly pedestrian for a vampire and a God King of
the Primordium. After the vibrancy that even a Slayer who wished to be dead
could bring, Illyria was cold and lifeless. Even the soft grunts she emitted as
they fucked were automatic, syncopated breaths that owed nothing to the abandon
of sex, and all to the effort of exertion. He obliged her, giving what she
needed, but he was waiting for the encore. The part that made it all worth it.

Their arrangement worked because she could not, or would not, love; because this
time he didn�t fool himself with false hope. Illyria was too arrogant; too
self-possessed to ever let anyone inside her head or her heart. Given time,
Wesley might have seen past her mask, but Spike wasn�t looking for such a
gift. He found her uncomplicated, straightforward in her demands; she was how
she was. She found him a challenge, he�d discovered. After hoards of
fawning sycophants, he fancied she liked his teasing subordination.

He ran a hand over the curve of her breast, finishing the arc with a tweak to
the little perky nipple. She didn�t react, but continued to rise and fall on
his cock. Like this she didn�t want kisses or the sweet touch of a caress, she
didn�t require his affections, but tolerated them. What she offered, when she
leaned in and kissed him, without passion or the warmth of love, was a token
given only to encourage him to keep thrusting.

Nevertheless, she was beginning to understand the pleasures he could bring to
her new body and he found that she�d wanted sex more and more. He expected
nothing less of Illyria, old demon, aloof goddess, someone else�s deity. He
couldn�t touch her mind, only her willing body. But there were moments,
unguarded ones, where he�d touch her; the side of her throat, the gentle slope
of her hip, the red-hot destruct button of her clit, when the ice would crack
and her unwitting cry would betray her.

Then she would pump him harder than before and she rode like the jockey of a
derby winner, galloping to an orgasm that threw her into her transformation as
she came. Her eyes never left his as they altered in hue, the frost melting from
her medusa stare as they darkened into glassy jewels.

She rose above him, leaving him prone on the bed. Her arms multiplied,
elongating into thick snakes, all changing as she melted into her demon shape.
Many yearning arms reached for him. A strong, thick tentacle wrapped itself
around his middle, pulling him clean into the air like Fay Wray in some strange,
warped version of King Kong. Others wrapped themselves around each leg,
ensnaring him, gently pulling them apart to his full extension. He was
vulnerable, exposed to her like no other, held like a puppet on thick strings.
She had the strength to pull him apart if she chose, but she was gentle. And
when she brushed a tentacle across his lip so sweetly, he smiled at the whimsy
of her affection as if this was the only way that she could let go and express
herself.

She started to play, with firm strokes that roamed slowly over him, down then up
again, flowing and ebbing against his chest, leaving it awash with tingles, tiny
suckers pressing tight kisses against puckered skin. His nipples were pinched in
revenge for his own teasing touches. His navel was probed. His neck was traced
from ear to the hollow of his collarbone. Every inch of him was touched.

Smooth as silk, the tentacles wound around him, skin against undulant coils of
muscle. He closed his eyes, giving himself over to the sensation, feeling each
tentacle as it explored him. He relaxed into the darkness of her scent; heavy,
intoxicating incense like those Patchouli filled rooms he remembered from the
sixties.

His cock was still hard and it needed attention. Illyria took hold of it in her
serpentine grip, a tentacle winding around it, wringing it vigorously with a
mesmerising ripple along the shaft, rolling and squeezing as it spiralled from
balls to tip. Another probed deeply into more personal places, thrusting deeply
inside, sliding against his most intimate pleasure spot with a slow, languorous
rhythm, drawing out the fuck into a sensual bliss.

This was full immersion sex, every erogenous zone stroked and caressed, nowhere
left unexplored. He felt weightless, his mind in freefall. To have everything at
once, to be touched in all places, all limbs, was ecstasy as white noise,
sending his mind into meltdown.

He was close, and she drew his cock inside her, into a tight hole that sucked at
his sensitive flesh with no mercy. If sex was white noise, ecstatic static in
his brain, then orgasm was explosion, a dynamite blast from his loins that left
him panting, sated, euphoric, exhausted; adrift in a jumble of emotions he would
never begin to sort out.

Illyria released him and he smiled smugly back at her as he recovered, blinking
away lights from behind his eyes that she could not see.

�Good as ever, blue,� he gasped.

As usual, his comments were of little consequence to her. �It is complete,�
she said as she segued back into the form of her human shell. �There will be
offspring.�

Spike tried to sit up, but was stayed by the iron of her hand. �What?�

�You have provided me with the essence required for reproduction.�

�Just thought we were having a little fun here...�

Her head jerked as she regarded him. �You have served your function well.�

�I�m dead, Illyria. Those wrigglies don�t work no more.�

�You are a demon, if but a shadow of one. Your essence is adequate.�

�Oh, balls.�

***

Illyria
was up the duff, but neither Spike nor Angel expected this to be any ordinary
bun in the oven. No one could guess what on earth it was that Illyria carried
within her gravid womb; research turned up nothing and no one dared speculate.
Illyria herself would not answer their concerned questions, although whether she
knew what she was carrying or not, there was no way to tell.

Her belly grew over the months, big and round and firm. To accommodate her new
girth, her skin-tight battlesuit expanded with her growing middle, always
perfectly molded to her shape. She had cravings too. Before, no one had ever
seen her eat, but now she ate everything in sight, whether it seemed nutritious
or not. Food, McDonald�s, even batteries, pencils and cutlery, if they were
left unattended, were all consumed by her ravening hunger.

Maternity was kind to Illyria, without any sickness or swelling that her human
counterparts had to experience. Not that anyone would have noticed any softening
of the expectant mother. She carried on as she always had, fighting with not a
thought to her baby inside. In fact she was stronger, meaner, showing more
vigour than at any time since her powers had diminished. She showed little sign
that her pregnancy bothered her at all.

It wasn�t everyday that a vampire discovered that he was going to be a dad,
and the mother being a goddess was one Spike that had up on Angel. He took to
his new role very seriously, fussing around Illyria, providing for her every
need. However, his enthusiasm for his impending fatherhood was tempered his
doubts about the offspring. Human? Demon? Vampire? Something else or in-between?
Whatever it turned out to be, he was sure he would protect it with his life.
It�d had better not be evil.

And so the pregnancy progressed, the mother indifferent, the father anxious, the
offspring developing quietly inside without a care, until one day when her belly
had grown to vast proportions, Illyria came to Spike and said. �It is time.�

Spike paused Doom 3 and looked up at her, puzzled. �Time? You can�t be
hungry again��

Illyria looked as ashen as he�d ever seen her, and she shuddered as her fierce
contraction came. �This shell��

Spike leapt up to support her in case she threatened to collapse. �Don�t
worry, got you.�

�This shell is too weak,� she gasped. �Yet I find I lack the strength to
change.�

�Angel!� Spike yelled in panic.

He lifted Illyria up. She lay limply in his arms between convulsions of pain
while he rushed through their warehouse home to their makeshift-birthing suite.
Illyria had demanded that a water tank be constructed to accommodate the
delivery. It had been built with all the proper ceremony and magical
incantations she required, despite the fact it was little more than a large
children�s paddling pool, resplendent with jolly characters from the seashore.

Spike carried her to it and placed her into the water.

Angel appeared from his room, still arranging his clothing. �What�s going
on? I�ve got a date later.�

�She�s in labour, you nit. Poodle can wait,� Spike waved at their altar.
�Start the bloody rituals, or get hot towels or whatever we need.�

�I told you not to call Nina that,� Angel snapped as took his place.

He began to read from the book of rites, hoping that he was pronouncing the odd
old words correctly. It was at times like this that he really wished Wesley was
still alive. Spike, unsure of what to do, grabbed Illyria�s hand. For once she
seemed to welcome his comfort.

At first nothing much happened, the two vampires had no idea what to expect.
Illyria said nothing, but moaned painfully as each contraction tore through her.
Fred�s body was not built to handle whatever it was that caused Illyria�s
belly to bulge as the offspring fought to escape the narrow confines of the
womb. It stretched like a thick membrane, churning oddly like no human body
should do. Angel kept chanting, Spike kept holding Illyria�s crushing grip and
she kept fighting the pain.

Birth wasn�t what any of them was expecting. A sapphire tentacle punctured
Illyria�s abdomen, ripping it open like a fledgling cracking through an
enormous egg. There was a blush of blood in the water and out popped a small
creature, a dark demon with many arms; long suckered limbs that propelled it
through the water as it�s mother�s blood made it frantic with bloodlust
trying to feed on the diluted plasma, ignoring the nascency of it�s siblings.
Five more, each a different shade of rich blue, slipped into the pool.

�I�m a dad!� Spike beamed.

Angel�s chant faltered as he caught sight of the unholy nativity before him and
what Illyria had produced. �Spike, they�re��

�Continue!� Illyria demanded sharply, getting awkwardly to her feet. Her
stomach gaped in a wide wound, dripping with blood, water and afterbirth.

Spike tried to steady her, but she waved him away. �It is repugnant to me and
tastes of the pointlessness of small lives, but my issue require the sustenance
of blood.�

Spike nodded, looking at the water. It was clean, filtered through hungry
mouths. Tentacles clawed at her legs as the newborns tried to reach any drop of
blood they could reach. �I�ll be back.�

Angel watched him leave, keeping up the chant. Illyria seemed to stiffen and the
magic he wove started to take effect. The lips of the wound seemed to close
before his eyes, knitting together into new skin, as perfect as before.

Spike was back as the last scrap of skin disappeared under her armour, most of
their blood supply gathered in his arms. The little demons detected its metallic
odour and released Illyria for a more promising food source. As she stepped
clear, they surged against the side of the padding pool, threatening to rip
through the plastic.

Spike dumped the contents of a large flask into the water. �Grub�s up,
boys!�

The resulting scramble of tentacles and fanged maws made the padding pool sag
dangerously.

�I think you need to move them,� Angel looked about for something more
stable. There was a tank over near the back doors that had been rejected for the
birth due to its size that might do.

***

�They have your eyes,� Angel said dryly as he returned later that evening.
He�d cut his date with Nina short, too worried about what was going on in his
own warehouse to concentrate on dinner and dancing. Spike�s children might be
sucking the universe into a new continuum and he�d be out trying to avoid
doing the Tango. Luckily his concerns were unfounded for the moment.

He watched Spike near the huge holding tank the young demons had been
transferred into, he certainly seemed proud of them.

�Nah,� Spike ignored the jibe. �They take after their mother mostly.�

Angel couldn�t argue with that. Spike and Illyria�s progeny, a handful of
small creatures pulsing with a need for blood under their indigo skin and many
tentacles, bobbed blissfully through the water, unaware of the scrutiny of the
two vampires.

�Where is Illyria?�

�Sleeping off the birth, or whatever it is she does.�

Angel really didn�t want to think about the unlikely union that had produced
this offspring. Spike had taken Illyria on after Wesley�s death and, over
time, their strange mistress/pet relationship had mutated into some bizarre
sexual fetish that Angel had heard involved the tentacles of Illyria�s
original form. The thought of all those arms slipping over flesh made Angel
rather uncomfortable, but Spike seemed to like them and he�d chosen not to
mention the quite obvious sets of circular marks that had regularly appeared on
Spike�s neck. Angel would have argued that the whole affair was most unwise,
but if it prevented Spike from moping after Buffy then Angel couldn�t begrudge
him whatever he was getting out of it.

Spike was fascinated by his unlikely children and was tapping on the tank like
an errant child in a doctor�s surgery. �That�s it, come to daddy!�

�Won�t that scare them?�

Spike gave Angel his best �are you a complete idiot?� look. �They�re
vampire squid. I don�t think my boys are scared of much.�

Angel didn�t doubt it. One of the �children� viciously lashed a tentacle
against the glass with a thump.

�Yep, just like their mum,� Spike said proudly. �Vicious little
buggers.�

�You know we can�t keep them.� Angel told him quietly.

�We are not killing them.� Spike replied between gritted teeth.

�It�s for the best.�

Spike put himself between the tank and the other vampire. Outraged, he slipped
into game face and growled. �You can�t do that, they�re mine.�

�You have no idea what they�re going to grow up to be!�

�You�re just jealous!�

�I have a son, Spike.�

�Yeah, and I have six!�

�They are the progeny of an Old One and a vampire,� Angel�s temper flared.
�They are not going to grow up into calamari!�

�I should hope not.� Spike turned briefly to the tank. �Don�t listen to
the nasty man, kids!�

�Spike,� Angel said seriously. �Think about this��

�They shall not die.� Illyria commanded from the doorway.

They turned to her as one, and she expected nothing less. She strode into his
room and stood over the tank, her cold, staring eyes looking into nothing. There
was no sign that she�d ever been through the trauma they�d witnessed
earlier. No one was going to argue with her.

She pressed her hands to the glass and shimmered, a ripple that ran through the
fabric of the universe, and the offspring were gone, winking out of existence
one by one.

Spike started to go for her, but was held back by the steel of Angel�s grip.
�What have you done?� He roared at her.

Her gaze settled upon him, the contemptuous glare of a tyrant. �They live.
Each sent to a dimension to make their own by conquest. They shall seek victory,
submission through treachery and death. They will rise above the filth and they
shall be glorious.�

�They couldn�t stay here?� Spike frowned.

�They are usurpers, betrayers. They would seek to take all from me. This world
is my own.�

�This world isn�t your own, Illyria.� Angel told her.

Illyria turned to him mechanically. �Not yet. I have much work to do.�

�I will have to stop you, you know that.�

�I understand, you are a warrior as am I and long for the stink of battle,�
she turned to Spike, giving him a withering glare. �You shall remain my
pet.�

Spike looked anxiously, torn between loyalties, all the while knowing that he
would choose to save the world from Illyria�s tyranny. Still it was better
that they keep her close, and hopefully, occupied. �Yeah, alright��

�Good,� she began to change into her demon self, reaching out for her
vampire lover as her arm split into tentacles. �We shall make more.�

The End
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