Pale Shelter
- How can I be sure
- When you don't give me love
- You gave me Pale Shelter
- You don't give me love
- You give me cold hands
Drusilla was giving a lesson.
"The Master begat Grandmother.
"Grandmother begat Daddy, who begat Drusilla, who begat Spike." A sigh. "Spikey has yet to begat anyone." She cooed. "It's all so very Biblical."
Angelus snorted. "I think we're less a proud dynasty, more a plague o'er the land, Dru."
Drusilla giggled and danced around Angelus, who was draped across an over-stuffed armchair, surveying the scene of carnage in front of him. The family had broken into an opium den in Limehouse and feasted on those within. The occupants were easy pickings, too drugged up to scream when they were attacked, let alone run. And they were certainly an interesting meal. Opium made the blood taste quite sweet.
Even vampires could appreciate drugs: Darla was especially partial, and sat on a mountain of plump silk cushions smoking from a hookah. Drusilla skipped over to her and threw herself down, landing on the cushions with her legs kicking into the air. Darla extended one elegant hand and ran it through Dru's hair, smiling with heavy eyes. "Sweet Drusilla," she muttered, her voice cloudy and thick.
Spike was the last to finish his feasting. He dropped the limp body of the final victim -- a blond aristocrat with a neatly trimmed moustache -- who slithered to the floor in a heap, and stood up, tongue running around his bloodstained lips. His face shifted smooth once more.
"Well, that was easy. Takes the fun out of it, really."
Angelus chuckled low. "You'd rather they put up a fight, I suppose. Poor Spike, needing to win battles against mere mortals so he can feel superior to something."
Spike growled. "I'm no worse than you, old man. I just haven't had much of a chance to prove it. We don't take risks after all, your leadership has been rather too safe for that. To think you used to have a reputation."
"Who said he was in charge?" Darla asked, eyebrow quirked.
Angelus ignored her, still looking at Spike. "You think you could do better, poet?" the last word was spat out. He waved one hand in the air. "I've caused pain that consumed men's souls, killed and maimed and tortured the poor, the rich, the good and the great, and I'm still here to tell the tale. It's an art, to be mastered.
"You just hunger for the glory. You'd rather be trying to feed from the Queen at a state banquet, and you'd die in the attempt. Perhaps that's not such a terrible idea."
At first Spike looked furious, but then, catching himself, a thin smile spread across his face and he addressed Darla and Drusilla. "Touched a nerve, did I? You don't think I might be too close to the truth, do you ladies?"
Drusilla giggled. "I think you honour has been questioned, Angelus. How shalt you respond? A duel?"
Spike answered for him. "Ah, but Dru, we have no pistols. Pity."
Darla exhaled smoke, and through the haze whispered, "You could always wrestle. Like the Greeks would, of course."
Angelus eyed Spike, a feral grin on his face. "How very scandalous. I like it."
"Ooo!" Drusilla squealed. "Pretty, Greek boys. Taste like amber and honey."
"Shall we?" Angelus asked. "We can let the ladies judge who wins."
Spike looked cocky. "I'm up for it."
Angeus swivelled into a sitting position on the chair, then got up, shrugging off his velvet jacket as he rose. Spike tugged at the buttons on his waistcoat, and they both began to undress, slowly revealing pale flesh to the unwavering gaze of both Darla and Dru.
Cotton shirts, breeches, stockings and undergarments drifted to the floor until they were naked, each tensing and flexing as they appraised the other. They moved to an empty space in the middle of the den, pushing corpses out of the way, and began to circle, maintaining both distance and eye contact, slightly crouching as they determined their strategy.
The ladies watched from their mound of cushions, rapt with attention.
Without warning, both Angelus and Spike lunged forward, grappling, cool hands on cool torsos. They struggled for a moment, grunting with exertion. Angelus gained the upper hand and tipped Spike over his head and down, hard, on a table, which shattered under the impact. Spike roared and bounced onto his feet, charging for Angelus, who stepped to one side and used Spike's momentum to propel him into a wall.
Spike crashed to the floor and lay there for a moment, panting in pain and fury. Blood trickled from a cut on his forehead and the flagstones felt cold on his thighs and belly. He got to his feet once more, avoiding the amused expressions on the ladies' faces, and confronted Angelus. The elder vampire still looked insufferably smug.
They grappled again, Spike determined to score a point this time, and groaning with effort he picked up Angelus and threw him at the wall, watching with satisfaction as he hit it with a crack. "Sorry, was that a rib?"
They battled on for some time, until both were cut and bloodied and the den was in an even worse state than before. Dru squealed and clapped whilst Darla puffed on her hookah, but neither intervened. Both were strong but Angelus was clearly the more dominant and finally Spike found himself pinned to the floor by Angelus' cool bulk, arms held above his head.
"Will you concede?" Angelus asked, legs tight around Spike's flanks, holding him like a vice.
Spike just stared up at Angelus. He wasn't about to submit, but he couldn't think of a witty retort. His mind was suddenly on other things. The air seemed to thicken. He'd never been this close, physically, to Angelus before and certainly not whilst both he and Angelus were naked. It was having a curious effect.
Angelus glanced down at sudden movement. His eyes widened a little. "My, but Spike, it seems like you're quite enjoying this." The smile Angelus wore suggested something more than mere mockery.
"You know, I've had Darla, and I've had Drusilla, but you -- I've never had. I think I might like to."
Spike could see that Angelus was getting aroused too: his cock began to thicken, no longer hanging limply between the pale thighs.
"Would you like me to have you?"
Spike couldn't reply. Angelus began to grind his hips lower, until he was rubbing his own belly against Spike's.
Angelus barely whispered. "Would you?"
They were both hard as steel, and Spike merely had to incline his head a fraction and that was reply enough. Angelus dipped down and kissed Spike, hard and rough, still pinning Spike's arms above his head.
Drusilla whimpered on the cushions, rubbing her breasts through her blouse. Darla continued to watch, tongue running across her bottom lip.
The boys writhed on the floor. Angelus finally released Spike's hands, which latched onto the broad back above them and scored down its length, blood seeping from the cuts. Angelus groaned into the kiss, and slithered down Spike's body until he could put his legs between Spike's own and hook his cock underneath him. He drove up, stabbing, gripping Spike until he reached his goal.
Angelus was not about to stop for lubrication, and Spike roared with pain as he drove in. The subsequent thrusts were hard and deep, and soon Spike was shouting obscenities with each stroke. The pace increased, Angelus grunting with effort, but he had stamina and the punishment continued for some time.
The girls still watched. Drusilla moaned, her hand shoved up her skirts, and Darla drew heavily on the hookah.
The final few thrusts were slow and deep, and Angelus was clenched in his climax. All was still for a moment, but for the rustling of Dru's skirts. Then he withdrew and got to his feet, slightly shaky. Spike looked up at him. "Get back 'ere. It's my turn now."
Angelus laughed. "I don't think so, Spike. That was the victor claiming his spoils. I won, and I got to fuck you. Remind you who's in charge. But don't worry, I won't mind if you finish yourself off. You do it often enough as it is."
With that he wandered over to his girls, leaving Spike fuming on the floor, hard and sore and bleeding.
Angelus evidently enjoyed what had occurred. Enough, at any rate, to repeat events with a willing Spike many times more over the next few months. On each occasion their roles were the same, and though he constantly asked to give, Spike always received.
It only increased Spike's determination to make Angelus submit, somehow. Just for once.
The house was modestly grand. It was owned -- or rather, had been owned -- by a fairly successful merchant who had made the foolish mistake of inviting two enchanting couples he had met at a party to dinner.
Spike and Angelus were in his bed, having just eaten his wife. It was an impressive four poster affair with goose-feather pillows and brocade hangings. Somewhere, Darla and Drusilla were torturing a scullery maid.
They had just lost the last of their clothing and in the midst of the rough foreplay Spike was making his usual request, grinding his erection into Angelus' side.
"I want to take you this time," he hissed into Angelus' ear. "Let me."
"You always want to take me," Angelus replied mildly. "I sometimes wonder what would happen if I let you. Would you be able to perform with the sudden pressure? Would I even feel you inside me?"
"I'll fuck you through the floorboards, mate."
There was a bark of laughter, and when he looked at Spike again there was something very wicked in Angelus' expression. "Prove it."
The statement hung in the air between them. Spike was still, looking at the other vampire, searching for indications that this was some sort of trick. This was too good to be true.
Moments passed. "Jesus. If you want something done. . ." Angelus threw off the covers and straddled Spike and without pause reached back for Spike's cock, lined it up and with one swift movement sank down on to it until the entire length was consumed. Apparently oblivious to any pain he began to move up and down, slowly, deliberately. "Well?"
Snapping out of his shock, Spike grabbed Angelus' hips and tried to quicken the pace. He wanted to cause damage, repay Angelus for all the delicious pain he had inflicted. And the faster Spike went, the more he pumped in and out, the more Angelus seemed to enjoy it.
"Harder! Is this all you've got, Spike? Fuck me!" Angelus was wild eyed, and Spike tried his best to comply, removing his entire length and plunging it back in just as quick. When he came he felt Angelus' fingernails raking his chest and he whispered his grandsire's name.
"So, we're equal then," Spike said, as Angelus pulled on his shirt a few moments later.
The corner of Angelus' mouth quirked. "Oh, you might have got to fuck me Spike, but don't think this makes you better than me. I made you wait and then I did it for me, on my terms. Don't think you'll get another chance."
Long after Angelus left the room Spike lay in the bed and brooded over those words.
He had never wanted to be better than Angelus, couldn't he se that? He just wanted to be treated as an equal. He wanted Angelus to respect him, to see him as worthy. But fine, if that was how it had to be, if he had to do it this way, he would prove himself to be better than all of the family. And he knew how.
Angelus had never killed a Slayer.