RockStarPeach

So, after probably more than a year, I finally caved and once again answered the siren call of the mod challenge, over at nekid_spike. And lucky me, I got challenged by one of my most favourite people ever, snogged! (Who is off getting married and probably won't see this for a while. Congrats, baby!!!)

Title: Back Of My Mind
Rating: R
Summary: Spike considers the darker side of his love life. Angel in particular.
Word count: 900
Pairing: Spike/people, Spike/Angel


***

Spike's never really thought about it, before.

He died a virgin, is the thing and then there was Dru and Angelus (and Darla, sometimes).

Dru fucked him first, plucked his flower, didn't make him cry that first time, but so many times after she hurt him so good, so right he cried and laughed and couldn't tell pain from pleasure by the end. Still can't, really.

Angelus hurt him. Hurt him so he knew he was being hurt, no confusion, no mistaking that pinch for something lighter, that bite for something more teasing. Angelus wanted him to hurt and Spike hurt and he didn't cry then, didn't ever but sometimes, every once in a while, Angelus showed him pleasure. A kind he'd never fathomed, not in his sheltered, timid, very few years on Earth.

He might have cried, then.

Darla was ruthless. She was cold and efficient and took her pleasure from him where and how she wanted it, without a care for what Spike felt or wanted. Which was fine by him. She was the boss and Spike hated the bitch but pleasing her made Dru happy and that was reason enough to put up with her.

Spike was turned, Spike lost his innocence.

There was his family.

There were sweet little Catholic school girls who felt like Heaven around him and tasted even better going down. There were men: big, tough, manly men who screamed prettier than the girls when he held them just the far side of too tight, begged for more, for less, for the end one way or another when he sunk inside, cock and teeth, cold come and warm blood.

There were nuns, once in a while. Angelus has a taste for them, it rubbed off on Dru and Spike was nothing if not indulgent of the whims of his princess, but more often than not he left them to it, beat himself off in the next room, listening to the low moans of Hail Mary, full of grace and whispered Forgive us our trespasses.

Nuns never beg, he learned, but it was always fun listening to Dru try to break them.

There were demons. A few of them over the long, long years and some even gave Angelus a run for his money when it came to doling out a beating or getting off on a hot poker up the keaster. One bloke, a big, bad Fyarl demon actually cried, begged Spike to push the knife in deeper, tear him apart, literally, while they fucked.

There were Dru's lovers, more than one of whom wanted a piece of Spike as well and there were his own bits on the side.

There was Clem and Rupes (bugger has a dark side a mile wide and his magic fucking tickles when it doesn't squeeze so tight Spike can't even cry out anymore) and Harmony. Fucking hell, Harmony.

There was a boy, once. A human boy, not much older than Spike was when he got bit and he was... sweet. He was shy and tender and warm and he kissed with his lips first, then his tongue. He made Spike smile, made him soft, made him feel things more fucked up and depraved than all his previous shags put together.

There was Buffy.

Fucking hell, the things he used to with that girl would make the devil himself weak in the knees. He doesn't really want to get into it right now, but the handcuffs and the blindfold were just the tip of the iceberg. That girl liked to hurt, liked to be debased and humiliated and occasionally, she'd give it right back.

They came close, so very close to killing each other, a thousand times over. They only ever fucked harder, the closer they came.

And then, there was Angel.

There is Angel.

He's not Angelus, Spike isn't William the Bloody, not anymore but they go at each other as if they were.

They tear and they rend and they slide into each other on punches and kicks, teeth and blood and regret.

Angelus made him a monster and Angel makes it worse, makes him miss it, just a little. He lets Angel tease him with his fangs, arches and begs and urges him to bite down. He pushes him lower, sharp teeth across his stomach and down and when fangs sink into Spike's inner thigh, into the delicate skin of his taint he cries out and digs his heels into Angel's back.

They use blood for lube, still fighting each other all the way down and Spike gets drunk on it.

Angel, too.

Sometimes they wake up tangled together, red and slippery and sore all over.

Sometimes Spike finds himself chained to Angel's bed and sometimes Angel's skin is black and charred and flaking from holy water and whisky and matches. Sometimes they're not alone, sometimes there's a little blonde girl in bed with them, unconscious and weak from blood loss, or a brunette high on ecstasy and begging them for more.

Begging for things Spike shouldn't be nearly so willing to give, not with his soul intact.

But, that's what Angel does to him. What he'll always do.

And much as he loathes it, much as he knows it's wrong, Spike will always curse and roar and wrestle Angel down so they don't ever stop.

Much as he tries, he can't ever get what Angel does to him out of his mind.

He doesn't even want to.

END