((((("Will, that's disgusting." Lean face bloodied in the kill, buried in the intestines of what used to be that nice Mr. Miller, the shopkeeper.
"What?"
"Don't play with your food."
"'M not playin'. I'm doing a sci-en-tif-ic exploration. So fuck off and leave me alone."
I should have bloody well drowned the pup in his own blood the first time he got us run out of town.
But I didn't.
Noooooo... I made excuses for him. I said he was young. He'd learn. He had the hunger and the passion to make such a sweet grand vampire.
Well, I say now that he's a twit, a nuisance, and I'm better off ripping his head off. Watch him mock me when he's dust.
Who am I joking with? I could no more ruin that luscious body than I could give up the trio of young girls I've strung up back at our cottage outside of the town. Such sweet, tasty morsels.
Speaking of the babes, I'm feelin' a bit of hunger.
"William, we'll be going now." He looks up, dripping blood from his canines as he grins.
"Come on, Angelus, I've almost found the end of his lower intenstines. Dru'd love this. Wonder what she'd see here?"
I growl. In seconds, his soft sable head caresses my hand and he's rubbing against my leg. Ah, this is a moment I'll remember. Until the next time he rips into a passerby because he's bored.
Jerk up hard. "Now, Childe."
Grumbling all the way, William drops the bright bits of flesh held in his hands to follow me. He straightens his new suit, fuck it all, already ruined with blood and other messes.
Down the street we go, more than likely frightening years off of the good people too stupid to not look closely. Just blocks from our lodgings, and I notice that William's acting strange. Stranger than usual, indeed, it's frightening but possible. Every few steps, he pauses, sways, and moves on, only to stop and sway again. Sick of our slow progress, I yank him back by the hair, and stare into his face.
Gooey gold eyes, dripping grin, and I forgo a snarl or a growl for a un-Scourge-like sigh.
I should have bloody well remembered that Mr. Miller had a bit of a problem with the Chinaman's drug.
*~*~*~*~*
Yeah. Gonna... well, I dunno, but I think I'll sleep first. Yeah. Just a bit of a lay down, then I'll fuck Angelus. Or he'll fuck me. Yeah. 'Cause I dunno if he'd let me fuck him. I mean, I have, but that's not to say that Angelus is all 'oh, William, fuck me.' Though that's soundin' kinda tasty.
I giggle at the thought of Angelus laid out for the feast like a suckling pig, complete with crisp apple lodged in his mouth. Pretty, pretty, all glistening and oiled. Nice chunk o'thick dark meat standing up at attention.
Mmmm... yeah, feeling a bit more than happy now. The real thinker in the Clan of Aurelius jumps a bit and drools. Ah, poor little monster, leads me in the grandest places.
Damn and blast.
Can't stop that image of my wanker of a Sire spread out on the bed. Legs and arms tied to the bedposts, just enough give. For me to get him up and begging for my cock.
Yeah.
Pale, slick skin, glistening under the heavy yellow light of the gas lamps. Droplets of sweat and oil condensing, sliding between the crack of that luscious, raised ass. He'd beg for me to touch him, beg for me to hurt him.
Ok, so, I know perfectly fucking well that ain't gonna happen, so just shut up and lemme have my fantasy, huh?
Right. Where was I? Oh yeah, hurting Angelus. He'd sound so pretty, humping that soft white blanket, trying hard as anything to get friction against his dick. His voice would crack, 'Wiiiillliam... please, oh, fuck me, please'. I'd glide my hands up his flanks, hiss at the way he'd arch into my touch, like a cat in heat. Grip his ass with both hands, ready myself to ram right the fuck into that damn near cherry ass and...
"Boy, you'll do me the blessed kindness of listening when I speak."
Papa? My eyes still see Angelus laid out as they blink rapidly, quickly clearing away the naked, begging Angelus in favor of the annoyed Angelus.
Bloody hell.
Not my father, but twice as bad.
"Er, sorry." I wince at my voice, straggly and cracked. Sorry, Sire, I was dreaming about dominating you. And by the way, ever thought about letting me fuck you while you bite down on big juicy apple? No? Damn.
"No, my boy, sorry is what you will be." And my Sire's voice holds just enough genuine threat to scare the shit out of me while making my member harden even more. I'm all kinds of excited over Angelus making me sorry.
I'm a sick little puppy, yes I am. And it's all thanks to 'Daddy'.
"You'd best be naked the next time I open my mouth."
In a flurry of fumbling hands and muttered curses, I manage to tear off my coat, shirt, tie, and pants.
Only to look down at my crumpled pants and tightly laced boots still attached to my feet. My head's spinning and I plop down on the bed and swat ineffectually at the ties. Ooo, I think that's a yup, my hand finds the big knot I always tie in my boots. Okay, I've found the knot.
As my brain's trying to remember how to untie the knot, Angelus has already untied the other boot and he hits my hands away. Mmmm... his hands grip my foot, massaging their way up my shin. Abruptly, he stops.
What the... oh fucking hell, he's anal. Again. Idiot likes everything to be just so. Angelus hangs my shirt up on a hook and folds my pants neatly.
Figures I'd end up like this. I try to keep my random smartass comments about anality to myself as I squirm on the bed. I may be high, but I'm not dumb.
Mostly.
*~*~*~*~*
"Be still, William." I bark the words as I carefully remove my own clothing.
"Oooo, yes, *Master*." Blood boils as I look back to see my Childe wavering as he tries to stand up. With a quick smack to his face, I knock my drugged, woozy boy back to the bed. I brush a finger up the smooth inside of William's thigh, relishing the gradual fade of hair to utterly bare flesh. Will's cock jerks and I see him moan and bite his lip with his fangs, his demon lurking almost to the fore.
"What did you say, my boy?" My palm cups his sac, gently massaging the heavy globes contained within.
"Uhhhhhhhhrk." Will's chest jerks up as if attached to a puppeteer's string. Two fingers harshly enter his body and the rest of his body follows his chest, not sure whether to flee or to beg. Roughly, I thrust my fingers against the paper dryness. On each pass, the flesh cracks a little bit more until finally, I smell the intoxicating spill of William's blood. With a snarl, I change positions to lap at the coppery rivulets running from that tight little opening. Will squeals when my tongue goes where my fingers so recently did, wiggling and thrusting in. Lap up to the balls, take them in my mouth in turn, as I encourage my boy to move further back on the bed. I breathe deep of the musky, sweaty aroma wafting from his groin.
I take my time. I fully intend to fuck the little bastard til his eyes bleed.
*~*~*~*~*
Damn.
The entire time My Sire's huge cock rearranges my insides, all I can think of is him laid out on a banquet table squealing. Which causes me to giggle significantly more than is acceptable whilst getting buggered by one's elders and betters.
You know, Angelus is not a very forgiving fellow.
I'm not gonna walk for days.
Sure as shit not gonna be able to look at a piece of godamn fruit for at least twenty years.)))))
~~((end freaky flashback music))~~
I shake off the memory as he sighs and disappears down the instant foods aisle in search of hummus. That's where I find him a few minutes later, staring in horror at a brown box on the shelf. "That's not-" he whispers hoarsely. "Please tell me that's not what it-"
"What?" I reply, snatching the box down. "Instant potatoes?"
He presses one hand briefly to his temple. "Instant-" He shakes his head in amazement. "No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes," I say patiently.
"No."
"Angelus, is this an old Irish guy thing?"
"Perhaps."
"Jesus Christ, mate. Calm down."
"Well, it's upsetting!" he replies, his voice slightly shaky. "You'd be upset if they had instant-" He waves a hand helplessly. "I don't know, instant beer or something."
"Instant beer," I say slowly.
"Or perhaps not," he amends.
"Instant beer," I repeat reverentially. "Wow."
"You disturb me," Angel says evenly. He eyes the instant potatoes in my hand with great unease. "I- I want to go home now."
I loop my arm through his and give him a sympathetic glance. "Pansy-ass," I chide gently.
*~*~*~*~*
"*How* much?"
"$103.78," the teenaged cashier replies patiently.
I do a few quick calculations in my head, taking into account the current exchange rate between the American dollar and the Irish pound, the growth of inflation since 1753, and the California taxes on alcohol and tobacco, both of which Spike insisted on purchasing. "Let me guess," he quips. "Back in your day, a hundred bucks would've bought three farms, six whores, and a tankard of beer."
"Something like that."
Spike snatches the credit card from my hand and runs it through the little machine on the side of the belt, which I have been staring at in confusion. "Welcome to the twenty-first century, mate." When the cashier turns to punch some numbers, he grabs a handful of chocolate bars and surreptitiously shoves them in the pocket of his duster.
"Spike-"
"Ssh." He glances around suspiciously, as if we're in a James Bond movie. I roll my eyes and take him firmly by the arm, leading him out of the grocery store.
"I would've bought you those candy bars," I point out when we reach the parking lot.
He gives me a quizzical look and unwraps a Snickers bar. "That's not the point," he retorts around a mouthful of peanuts and caramel, and then rolls his eyes. "God, you're such a ponce. An old, *boring* ponce."
"Sorry," I retort, searching through my pockets for my car keys. "Where are my-" I look up, and he's grinning like a maniac. "Spike, give me my keys."
"Fat chance."
"Spike, *now.*"
He silently holds up the cucumber in reply.
"You're going to cause a scene, aren't you?"
He slides into the driver's seat with a satisfied sigh. "Get in, Peaches."
And the worst part is, I already *know* how much I'm gonna regret this.
*~*~*~*~*
He looks like he regrets this already. It could be my disregard for street signs, perhaps, or my particularly raucous choice of radio stations, or perhaps it's simply a little activity I like to refer to as the Pedestrian Game. You get points, you see. Ten points for traffic wardens, twenty-five for little old ladies; up to seven additional points if they have blue hair. But Angel, buzzkill that he is, won't let me hit anyone.
Wanker.
"Spike, stop it!"
"Goddamnit, Angel, just let me drive!"
"Stay on the road, then!"
"Suit with a cellphone!" I scream. "Seventy-five points, easy!"
"Spike!" he screams, grabbing the steering wheel.
And, you know, that means it's really all his fault.
*~*~*~*~*
There's smoke and falafel everywhere. Live lobsters are scuttling down the street, making their way back towards the grocery store like homing pigeons. The other car's alarm whines in protest.
He turns slowly to face me, hands clenched around the bent steering wheel.
"Err," he says apologetically. "Sorry?"