Someone save me from this maniac.
A church. A friggin' church.
He's gripping my hand, dragging me along and he's smiling like there's no tomorrow. If I didn't know him better, I could swear the guy has found the Christmas Spirit.
He woke me this evening, with eggnog and loud carols. For a second there, I thought I was in Hell.
It's all my fault really. Since that little girl cheered us on in the fountain...I think he snapped. Too much humiliation, too much frustration. He's wearing a red shirt for Christ's sake!
A red silk shirt, open on his almost hairless, alabaster chest...and *now* I remember why I let him throw me out of bed despite my heartfelt protests, dress me up like I was a bloody doll...it's all that little girl's fault, I tell you. She even trailed us part of the way home like an abandoned puppy.
He wouldn't let me slay her, but I still think she was a demon.
Now here we are. And that's just twisted.
I look up at the arched gats, the chiseled facade. Reminds me of home a little. Dru had a thing for churches. Being turned on the day she was supposed to take her vows and having a daddy with a big thing for convents...it wasn't a big shock really.
But even Dru and her pretty fucked up little head wouldn't go anywhere near a church for bloody Christmas.
The mosh pit.
The mall.
The zoo.
The fountain.
It's fucking payback time.
*~*~*~*~*
I can feel the ground beneath my feet moving - I can't remember singing with this much passion even back when attending church is something I did from the inside. I'm so moved, I'm completely wrapped up in the spirit of the season. I'm actually glad to have Spike here to share this with me.
Except he's not. Where the Hell has he taken off to now?
I turn around, wishing I'd actually bought that leash, but I can't even smell him. He can't have wandered too far - we haven't been here that long. But I really don't like leaving him alone.
He tends to do things.
I try and do a quick survey of the area and finally spy him in the nativity.
Smoking.
It's going to be really bad for my karma if I let him burn it down.
Hurrying without actually appearing to run is an art form I've perfected, thanks to Spike. Today it comes in handy as I catch him stubbing out the remains of his cigarette on the manger.
"Get out of the Nativity, Spike. You'll bring the hand of God down."
I'm trying for dry sarcastic wit, but it's too close to the truth not to come out sounding nervous.
*~*~*~*~*
Look at this - Angel's trying not to waddle in his attempts to get over here before I start threatening arson. He's really good at this 'I'm not at the vampire equivalent of DEFCOM 1' crap.
I sit back on the sheep, reveling in Soul Boy's discomfort. You've got to give him credit - he wants to yank me out of there before anyone sees, before anyone notices, but he isn't. Must be something to do with the free will thing. He wants me to do it all by myself so that he doesn't have to pay for anything else in redemption.
Or maybe my old sire wants to play.
*~*~*~*~*
Dear Lord he's grinning.
This is not good. This can't be good.
"Spike, come out of there."
It's really not having the desired effect, because I can't stop watching his hand stroking the woolly back of that sheep. It's a good hand, that, despite its owner. It's all elegance and slim fingers, nerve endings so sensitive and...
Not actually helping myself here.
I don't want to start thinking about what Spike can do with those hands, especially not here, but it's damn hard. It's very hard.
I'm very hard.
Yeah, definitely not helping.
*~*~*~*~*
Well, that's something that never changes - the old sod can't stop wanting me to play with something other than this mange-ridden creature. It's almost as good as staring at his crotch for getting that well needed hard on, but since I've got no intentions of shifting from this stable, let's get him thinking that way too.
I turn to the nearest wise man and pull the wrapped gift out of his hands.
"Huh, look at that, all these pressies are full of Styrofoam."
That's got him a bit confused. He's looking distinctly disappointed that I've stopped stroking the sheep. He's got a thing about hands - something to do with him having great lumping ones of his own. You could hypnotize him just by brushing the bed sheets. I toss the fake gift at him and turn to the next one.
"And they call us unholy - they've stinted Jesus on the gold. IIt's all paint. Bloody hypocrites."
I can see him hesitating before coming into the stable, but frankly, he's too worried that I'm going to wreck the place. So he steps forward, taking both boxes off me and putting them back firmly. I grin and pick up the next.
"There's no bloody myrrh in here!"
"It's for the look of the thing..."
"...And this isn't frankincense. Cheapskates."
He sighs, gives me that big, unholier-than-thou look and tries to pry the bottle out of my hands.
"Spike, you wouldn't know frankincense if it stood up and bit you on the ass."
And if that isn't a cue for a good eyebrow wiggle and a dirty grin...
*~*~*~*~*
He's doing that tongue thing again; sweeping it over his teeth in a way that he knows makes me go weak at the knees. Only I'm not bending, not now and certainly not here.
He's moving around now, looking at
all the statues carefully. Lifting the hems of the wisemen's robes, checking
to see if they're anatomically correct, no doubt. And I refuse to notice
that he's giving intense
scrutiny to the breasts of the Virgin
Mary.
When that fails to get a reaction from me, he moves on to the other animals. He stops at the donkey, leans on it and smiles.
"What do you say, Angel. You up for a bit of fun?"
"Forget it, Spike."
Oh and I even managed to sound convincing despite the throbbing in my cock at the way he looks there in shadow and light. I let him pull me into the nativity for a quick grope, hoping it will appease him.
I'm actually stunned. Does the man have *no* limits?
To make it clear that he does indeed have no boundaries when it comes to getting us both naked, he pats the donkey teasingly.
"It's his ass or yours, pet. You make the choice."
"Spike, we are not going to do this in the...oh God, put down the Baby Jesus."
I'm being blackmailed into sex with the threats of sacrilegious thievery. The worst part is that I think I'm catching Spike's enthusiasm for public shagging. And worse than that, either Spike's evolved an extra hand, or my ass is pressed up against that bottle of Myrrh.
This has to be some part of my atonement - there's no way the Powers that be are sanctioning this act unless it has some bearing on my redemption. Either that or I'm going to have to take more fucking responsibility for boinking Spike in a plastic nativity set.
"I can't do this with them watching me."
Sad excuse, I know he isn't buying it.
I look round, trying to make sure that there really is no one watching, wondering why I'm getting freaked out by glass eyeballs. I can't help it - I can't pee when someone's watching and I sure as Hell can't orgasm when I'm being eyeballed by a guy in a head dress. Within seconds, I've got them all facing the other way, and Baby Jesus is bearing his diaper-clad ass to the world. There's something deeply disturbing about all this on levels I don't even want to face, but Spike's raising his scarred eyebrow and asking me if I'm convinced that anything else is watching. And I really want to tell him how much that cow's bothering me, but I don't want to hear his latest leather jokes.
This is either going to be the quickest
sex in history, or maybe the longest. I can't decide if doing it here with
all the animal statuary on us is making me nervous or turning me on. Either
way, things are going to
be...different.
*~*~*~*~*
All right, Peaches is up for it. Either that or he's suddenly become interested in window displays for the Almighty. Nope, he's definitely up for it. He's sucking his lower lip and I know from too much experience that he's trying to work out just what goes where. Silly fucker - would have thought he knew all that by now, but no, he's slammed this plastic dolly on its belly and aside from the sheep, there's fuck all else here to bother him.
And those carol singers are still yodeling across the way. I've heard some people hear heavenly singing when they come, and matey here knows all about ultimate happiness. Still, I think we're both pretty damned sure that a strangled 'Hallelujah' isn't key to Barry White sex for vampires.
Maybe I can just bob over there and put a request in for something with a quicker beat, but he's turned everything round...except me. He's getting all bent over this. God, I love it when he's torn between the right thing to do and just doing me. I always win. He's not even looking at the straw, which for a bloke as anally retentive as he is, is something of a miracle.
Maybe all this scenery is bringing my Christian side to the fore.
But this scene - it's less micro beasties and more Angelbeast, cause he can't get his pants down fast enough. Two hundred and fuck knows how many years and he's still struggling with his belt loop. I'd offer to help - Hell, I'd rip the damn things off himm if I didn't know it would ruin the evening when he fell into a snit about his precious Armani slacks.
Look...there, he's managed to get his dick out and hey, it's true - it does shrink in the cold. Either that or one of these days he's going to admit that one of us is hung like a bull and the other one's Irish.
*~*~*~*~*
I can read his mind, the bastard childe. He's eyeing me like there's a new appendage there instead of what he's all too familiar with. I resist the urge to pick him up by his neck and toss him out into the street. It could have a lot to do with the fact that he's now completely naked from the waist down and *very* happy to be getting on with shagging our respective brains out by the look of him.
I look around, trying to work out whether the donkey or the cow's the best thing to lean him up against. Neither of them look stable enough and if there's anything worse than being threatened with the kidnap of a plastic Baby Jesus, it's falling onto the street in one ass and on another.
When Spike leans his hand on the head of the kneeling Mary, I make a command decision. Despite knowing that I'm going to need therapy for sure now, I press him over the manger and lean in. Hearing his gruff chuckle doesn't do anything for that either.
"Okay, this is about as close to the Lord as I'm ever likely to get."
I growl and push forward sharply, hoping against all hope that he's shocked into silence.
Not happening.
"Oh fuck, that's good!"
"Shut up Spike. I'm having sex in a stable - the last time this happened my ass got set on fire."
And then he's looking over his shoulder at me, grinning like the idiot childe he is and driving my libido to stupid and needy heights.
"Mind the splinters, Pet. That is unless you're offering to suck them out for me."
As much as I really want to fuck him hard and quick, I'm have to get his hand off Mary's robe. No man can be expected to concentrate when his partner of choice seems to be groping the Virgin. Trouble is the alternative seems to be placing his hand in the manger on the doll's ass.
Not working for me either.
*~*~*~*~*
I don't fucking believe it!
He's bloody angsting whilst he's got his dick somewhere up by my ribcage. Well that's not happening on my bloody time, so I squeeze down until I hear the growl in his belly. His hands slip up and over mine - I'd think it was affection, but he's probably adding this all up as guilt time for later.
Wonder how he's going to feel when he notices the singing's stopped.
*~*~*~*~*
Okay, the clenching is *not* fair.
I reach over to his hands, cover them with mine, try for affection and know I miss by a mile. Bring them back to rest safely on the sides of the manger. This resolves some guilt issues and has the added advantage of gaining traction.
*~*~*~*~*
I swear my eyes are crossing.
You could take this guy, put him in the worst place he could imagine and he' d *still* come up fucking like Hell-spawn if you give him the chance. This manger's going to give any second now, but I really don't care - not when I can hear him grunting like there's no tomorrow. I don't want to break this spell - and I really don't want him to stop even when he realizes that we're the new tableaux for the strangled cat singers.
*~*~*~*~*
Funny how when I get started with Spike, no matter where we are, I end up completely lost in the moment. Buried in him now, going at it for all I'm worth, because not only does he feel so good that I think my brain might leak out of my ears, but also because I think the singing's stopped and I have no idea when that was. There's no time for moonlight and roses, although technically there's moonlight aplenty in the stable - all glinting off Spike's bare ass.
And as I feel the swift build up to my orgasm threatening to overwhelm everything, I can hear singing again.
I wish I could find the energy to stop and breathe a sigh of relief.
*~*~*~*~*
"...come all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant. Come ye, oh come ye...erk!"
I think we may have been spotted.
There's a group of them there, all staring in like we're some modern day performance art. Stick a tag on it and call us 'The Spirit of Giving'.
I've always been convinced that Peaches closes his eyes when he's behind me. Now I've got the proof as he continues to go at it Hell bent for leather despite our growing audience. I give them all a cheery grin. I'd wave if my hands weren't still pinned to the manger. Just to add to their viewing pleasure, I moan a little.
"That's it, Pet. Right there."
Grinning like a loon, I nod to the nearest one, watching as his mouth drops open further. I swear he's going to say something, but let's face it, anything's going to sound bloody stupid right now. Asking me if I know I've got a big gel-headed vampire shagging me seems a touch cliché.
*~*~*~*~*
I hate to admit this, but I'm really
enjoying this now. Spike has his moments and this is one of them. The cold
air on the lower half of my body contrasts with the heat of the frision
between us. The night air is
crisp and clean, there's the ever
present thrill of getting caught...
I open my eyes when he moans.
Fuck.
*~*~*~*~*
Well he's noticed.
You can't say he's unobservant when it only takes him a paltry five minutes to notice his grand shagging session is being watched by the local congregation. Doesn't seem to have got through to his hips yet, cause he's still pumping forwards like he's on heat. I reckon his brain must melt when he's fucking - not that I mind, cause everything else gets so much sodding harder.
Oh and just...there.
*~*~*~*~*
Fine, the entire congregation's watching us. We're desecrating a technically holy place. We're traumatizing more kids than I can count. And I've reached that point where I don't care. I'm this close to finishing and I'm not going to walk away with blue balls again tonight.
I increase the rhythm and try to ignore the stunned populace. Spike obligingly begins to thrust back and I realize about a second too late what's going to happen when he comes. And then it's happened.
The child of the Lord has a new blanket of white and if we weren't damned before, we surely are now.
They're going to burn the whole place down.
If we're lucky, they'll let us have a running start before they begin.