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Sire	By : QueenB Category: Angel the Series > Slash - Male/Male > Angel(us)/Spike(William) > Angel(us)/Spike(William) Views: 4838 -:- 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-Sire
- 1
Email: queenboadiceaoftheiceni@yahoo.com
Spoiler Warning: None
Disclaimer: This belongs to Joss Whedon and the usual gang of idi…uh, geniuses.
Pairing: Angelus/William
Feedback: Do your worst—it can’t compare to my worst ;)
Thoughts are shown in italics.

Darla dug one elegantly shod toe into the cobblestones of the alley. “Is this what she dragged us here to see? Another corpse?” She kicked the foot of the offending body.
Angelus peered down at the well-dressed, limp carcass of the Englishmen. Fair, sandy hair fell in gentle waves over the eyelids, closed and faintly blue with the blood loss. His preternaturally sharp ears caught the thready murmur of the faltering heartbeat. “Not dead. There’s life in him yet,” he murmured.
“Not for much longer. Can we go now?” she asked. Darla was bored. First Drusilla showed them the sailor, now an English gentleman who’d doubtless thought she’d be good for a bit of fun. More fool he.
Drusilla whined, “No! Can’t we bring him home with us? Daddy has his Mummy. I want my knight.” She’d shown them the body then withdrawn into meaningless mumbles about daisies floating in eggshells. Now she perked up again, her attention brought back to the young man she’d momentarily forgotten.
Angelus’s eyes glinted with amusement. “Oh, Darla. I think our lass has taken our words to heart. She means to turn this one.”
Darla clucked her tongue, boredom giving way to exasperation. “She’s making a botch of it if she is. I don’t smell any blood on his breath. This is all your fault. You never taught her anything except to kill and make a nuisance of herself.”
Angelus crouched down to inspect the dying Englishman more closely. Darla was right. The man’s lips were free of blood. And such sweet lips they were, too—the bottom one full and pouting, the skin fair and without blemish that he could see and the hair fine and soft as a girl’s.
Well, I’ve always had a fondness for blonds… Without looking at Darla, he said, “Take Drusilla back to the house. I’ll finish what’s left of this one.”
His Sire tossed her head in irritation. “Why do I have to deal with her? She’s your damn Childe.” She’d had enough of Drusilla to last her for a dozen lifetimes. True, her visions were occasionally useful but much of the time they were spouted with so much inane dribble she couldn’t make heads nor tails of them.
“Darla.” The name was spoken lightly but with an unmistakable undercurrent of steel. Even though she was his Sire, he’d let her know early on just what a vicious bastard he could be when he was crossed.
Gritting her teeth, she spun on her heel and spoke in harsh tones to the mad brunette singing to herself. “Come along, grandchilde. Daddy has business to attend to.”
“But my sweet William…”
“—will be taken care of,” Darla purred. She cast an eye back towards Angelus, now wholly absorbed in the sandy-haired man stretched on the cobbles. She also knew of his predilection for small blonds. He would snatch this prize from Drusilla before she ever had a chance to enjoy it. Smirking at the thought of the madwoman’s imminent disappointment, Darla spoke with a tenderness she was far from feeling.
“Come, dear. We’ll see if we can’t find a couple of lovely children on the way. You can have their dolls to play with when we’re finished with them.”
Drusilla clapped her hands together gleefully. “Ooh, let’s, let’s, grandmother. Dollies to play with and children to dance with. Little hands, little feet, little toes…” Darla steeled herself against the incipient babble as she wondered whether Drusilla was talking about the dolls or the children.
The voices of the two vampire women died away and Angelus bent his full attention on the dying man in the alley with him. He tipped up the chin with a care that might have been mistaken for gentleness by those who didn’t know him better. Of course, those who knew the full extent of what Angelus was capable of rarely lived to tell the tale.
This would be no different.
The man slumped against the alley wall struggled to draw breath. Each inhalation left him wearier and brought less relief than the one before it. He was cold, so cold he couldn’t even shiver. He could feel his heart laboring in his chest, striving to pump blood that was in all too scant supply.
That woman, that beast from hell, had done this to him and in the tiny corner of his mind still able to function he knew he was dying. He couldn’t even remember why he’d wanted to die so badly. The humiliation of hearing his pathetic poetry mocked; Cecily’s hurtful rejection of his marriage proposal; the brunette woman’s mad, vague promise of alien worlds—were such feeble reasons why he’d thrown away his life and abandoned his dear, ailing mother?
“William.” A lilting voice called to him and a firm hand tilted up his face.
“WILLIAM.” This time the tone was sterner, as if from someone used to being obeyed, and he struggled to open his eyes. They faltered open at last and met the gaze of the stranger opposite.
His glasses were still on his face but his weakness made his sight uncertain. The face before him wavered—there was the impression of raven hair spilling onto the shoulders and smoldering dark eyes boring into his. Was it the maiden with the wolf’s bite?
His vision snapped into abrupt clarity and he gasped softly. It was a man—and what a man. The exquisite being possessed a towering magnificent brow, broad cheekbones, sardonic black eyes that pierced him to his marrow and sensual lips. The whole face was suggestive of forbidden delights and a hint of cruelty that terrified and strangely drew the slight Englishman.
The lips curved in a knowing smile as the stranger spoke again. “Good. I was beginnin’ to think I was talkin’ to meself, here.”
God, it was too much. The man spoke with the singsong notes of the Gaelic. William had always cherished a secret love of an Irish accent, the beauty of it seeming to contain all the poetry he strove vainly to emulate. “Who…are you?” he whispered. Odd, he hadn’t thought to ask the name of the dark-haired woman who’d bitten him. But she hadn’t captured his attention the way this man did.
“Angelus.” He saw William’s mouth wordlessly form his name and smiled at the obvious delight in the sapphire blue eyes behind the glasses. Angelus was enchanted with the looks of this man. But no point in letting him know that. He had to establish dominance right away. The mortal’s life was slipping further away with each passing moment; preserving his existence and his beauty would soon be impossible.
Angelus stood, effortlessly dragging William up with him. “Steady there, lad. It’ll be over soon.”
“Wh-what? What…will…be…what’s happ…ening?” His head lolled on his neck as he tried to stand upright. But his legs simply refused to support him. It didn’t matter. Angelus’s superior strength allowed him to hold the mortal easily. He began unbuttoning William’s vest and the shirt that lay under it. For what he had in mind, he wanted to feel as much as possible of the man’s skin against his own.
Shock caused William to stiffen as cool fingers brushed his chest, circling and tweaking his nipples. A twinge of heat flared in his belly even as he attempted to squirm out of the stranger’s grip. “Noo…we…can’t,” he gasped.
“Oh, but we can, m’lad,” Angelus crooned. He lowered his head to lap at both dark-pink nipples and William shuddered, a heretofore unspoken urge causing him to arch forward, seeking the pleasure the Irishman’s mouth provided even as he protested the familiarity the other man was pressing upon him.
“We…mustn’t,” William moaned. “Crime…sin against…man and God.”
“What? This? Where is the crime?” Angelus lifted his head to speak and William was swept with loss for he wanted that mouth back where it had been. “There’s no theft for I take nothing ye don’t wish to give. It’s no offense against your neighbor, his wife nor children. ‘Tis common between men and joy such as this…” and here his voice lowered so William had to strain to hear him, “…can only come from God himself.”
It was getting harder to think or breathe; arguing was impossible especially when the stranger resumed his expert caresses and licks across William’s chest and down his abdomen. “Angelus,” he breathed.
The blonde man’s arms found their way to the brunette’s shoulders as he guided his head. William began grinding his hips against the other man, slowly at first then with increasing urgency. He moaned, the dirtiness of the alley fading into the background, as his pants tightened. He had longed secretly for men, hiding his desires from his friends, his mother and almost even from himself. William had tried in vain to stifle such urges. But here in this sordid place his feelings could no longer be denied.
Angelus smelled it, the smoky desire wafting from this man’s skin, and smiled, his lips curving around one taut nipple. The lad was practically begging for it, if he even knew what he wanted. He was a virgin both to men and women; the vampire could tell that much. And the vampire would be the first to have him.
Then Angelus leaned back and bared his own breast. William blinked slowly, caught between his own burgeoning desire and the weakness brought from encroaching death. The tough brick wall behind him braced him up and he watched as the well-muscled chest was revealed. He reached out trembling hands to touch and stroke it. Angelus smiled and William was absurdly happy that he could please this divine creature. He ran his tongue, shyly then with more confidence, across the broad planes.
These tentative first motions were agreeable enough but Angelus was getting bored. With one sharp fingernail, he slashed his skin above a nipple and watched the thick streaks of blood drip down towards the unsuspecting man’s blue-tinged lips.
William lapped more boldly but he became aware of the foreign tang seeping into his mouth. His eyes, which had closed without his realization, flickered open to see the thick, dark stream oozing over the brown nipple. What the deuce? Had Angelus cut himself?
He tried to draw back only to find a strong hand pressing his face onto the cut he could now vaguely discern in the pale alley light. “Drink,” Angelus commanded.
William opened his mouth to protest and struggled against the other’s grip. But his strength was that of a kitten’s now and his face was squashed into that chest. He took a ragged breath and the fluid ran into his mouth.
It was bitter, the taste acrid. Then a strange element seemed to leap onto his tongue and his eyes widened. The liquid became ambrosia and he sucked harder. Streaks of fire poured through his body, lighting unknown places within. His sucks turned fierce, the loud slurping mingling with the constant murmuring of the Irish creature.
“Ah, you’re a greedy thing. Ya want it all, don’ ya? Ya’d eat me alive if ya could.” William made no reply only continued to pull at and tongue the wound for every drop of that delicious fluid. The given blood from the other seemed to surge straight to his cock and he moaned at the near-pain of his engorged member.
Angelus took advantage of his delirium to unbutton the other man’s trousers. The hot cock leapt into his hand and William gave a muffled squeak but didn’t remove his mouth. The brunette stroked it a few times, enjoying the feel of the lengthening organ in his hands. He wondered if William was even aware of what was happening below his waist. Angelus unfastened his breeches and let them open so his cock was free as well.
The tall brunette thought it was time to end this stage of the proceedings. Angelus growled, “Enough.” He grabbed William’s hair and pulled his head back from the wound even as William strained to taste it again. Then the blonde man became conscious of the cool member pressed up against his own and looked downward in confusion. He saw the other’s cock huge in the light and seeping its juices in thin streams over the bulging head.
Just what did this man propose to do to him? The fondling and touching were bad enough but what he was mutely suggesting now was unforgivable even in God’s eyes. “No, please,” he whimpered.
Sensing his fear, Angelus bent to whisper in the other man’s ear. “Yes, lad, yes. Ya want it. Ya want me. Ya have since you looked into me eyes. I can smell it on ya and you’re hard, harder than you’ve ever been in your young life.” He stroked him again with a firmer grip and William’s hips ground helplessly upwards, thrusting his cock into Angelus’s fist.
The man was trembling with desire and it was almost too much for his weakened frame to take. The vampire had to hold him up by one hand as his body trembled. His eyelids drooped as he moaned again, his body giving away his wicked desire to this man who seemed to know exactly what he’d hidden from himself for so long.
The demon leaned forward to tongue the fresh wound his Childe had left on her victim’s throat. The effect was immediate as the Englishman gasped and quivered, his neck pressing into Angelus’s mouth. There had been the beginnings of pleasure when the mad cow had bitten him but consciousness had faded too quickly for him to catch more than the barest tastes of it. Now the full bliss slammed into his throat and he moaned aloud.
Angelus withdrew from the seeping tear and heard the man sob with frustrated want even as his hips continued to jerk into his grip. The man’s climax was imminent but he wanted more from him than just an idle spending of his seed into the insensate air. “Tell me ya want it, lad. I’ll give it to ya.”
William didn’t want to surrender. He knew this man wanted more than this shameful touching. But the hand stopped fondling him and his whole body shook with dismay. The Irishman stared him deeply in the eyes as he spoke. “Do ya want me, William?”
“Y-yes.”
“Tell me again. Louder. Do ya want me?”
“Yes. Oh god, Angelus, yes, please!” He rested his shaking hands on this man’s shoulders. He was too weak to draw him closer but Angelus took the hint and crushed his form to his own. His large hands parted the cheeks of the sweet little ass and he placed the cockhead against the previously untouched bud.
William had no time for protest or question. The massive cock he’d barely glimpsed shoved hard into him in one brutal thrust and he cried out with the agony. He instinctively clenched his ass against it but he couldn’t keep the intruder out. Angelus settled himself and then began pumping in earnest.
He knew the pain would ease eventually. But first he had to get the other man to relax. He licked the wound again and heard the pained cries give way to ecstasy as the Englishman’s body writhed pressing his neck upwards even as he sought to escape the manhood piercing his very vitals.
The Irishman pressed deeper and William shuddered again. Now there was something being touched inside him, something that turned the pain to a rapturous pleasure, and he cried out again. Without knowing what he had to do, he impulsively arched into the thrusts, forcing himself harder onto Angelus’s cold shaft.
The vampire thrust hard and fast, deeper with each lunge. The Englishman’s heart was throbbing with excitement but he wouldn’t survive the end of the storm when it came. Even now his frame was shaking, caught between desire and the waning of his life. His head fell back, harsh failing breaths barely forcing their way past his icy lips. He knocked helplessly against the hard wall and his glasses fell to the ground, crushed underfoot by Angelus’s boots.
The dying heartbeats, the rippling spasms of hot, human flesh around his cock and the last instances of heat as the mortals in his embrace gave up their lives: Angelus craved these moments almost as much as blood. And this one had proven more than willing after his initial resistance. In spite of his frail, milquetoast exterior, there was passion and the potential for countless hours of untold lust and violence within the fragile flesh even now spending its life in the vampire’s grip.
Angelus was passion incarnate, more than he’d ever desired, the act better than he’d ever fantasized. Spasms of pleasure, cresting higher and higher, were lancing through his frame. There was pain and ecstasy chasing hot on its tail and he couldn’t tell which was which or what he craved more. “God. More…Angelus. Don’t…stop.” He wasn’t sure whether he had actually spoken or not. The knowledge of speech was fast disappearing along with all his other higher reasoning.
“I won’t stop, William. I won’t stop until you do,” came the soft whisper. “I’m your Sire. Now and forever. Say it.”
“Wh…?” What did Angelus mean? He didn’t understand.
“Sire. Say it.”
The word made no sense and too much else was happening to William for him to focus on it. The other’s manhood nailed him to the wall as he surrendered innocence and life at once. His groans died down to the soft whimpers of a child even as he struggled to flex his ass around the rod impaling him.
Blood was trickling down his thighs but William was oblivious to it. Angelus’s face shifted and William’s blurred vision barely made out the ridged brows and yellowed eyes before the demon sank his sharpened teeth into Drusilla’s wounds.
The fangs in his throat sent the pleasure soaring through him. As William arched against his demonic lover for the last time, he screamed, “ANGELUS!” The body jerked in the vampire’s grip, his first and last orgasm he’d ever shared with another in his mortal life spurting out of him with the remnants of his human existence. The vampire shot cold semen into the clutching heat, growling in triumph as the laboring heart gave up the ghost.
The body hung like a dead weight in Angelus’s arms, the blue eyes glazed with William’s sated lust and ebbing life. Angelus pulled back the heavy head and gently kissed William on the mouth for the first time, taking the final breaths from his lungs. As cold vampire lips parted from his even colder ones, a faint whisper wafted from the dying Englishman. “Angelus. Sire.”
Angelus held William’s cooling body a few moments longer, savoring the fading warmth. “Glory. I never get tired of that.”

Finis
- 1
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Sire