F A N F I C T I O N > M I S C . F A N D O M S
Twisted by Amberina
There's something inherently twisted about fucking his ex-lover's son. Sometimes he thinks he's doing it just to spite Angel, and even if that is the case, it's not like he cares. All he knows is there's nothing like the feel of that thin body underneath him, squirming slightly, breathing ragged.
There's something in his moan, the way he bites his lip as he comes, the way Spike's name is on his tongue so soft and really he's just so bloody innocent. No matter how tough he tried to act, tried to make people think he was, he was still a child, young and strangely uncorrupted. Until now.
And so devoted. He reminds him a bit of himself, honestly. So long ago, centuries it's been, but still. Angelus in the alley, he was so scared, so frightened. Times really had changed, hadn't they?
He remembers the look on Connor's face the first time. It was like a flashback, only this time he was on the other side. Sweat running down his back, oh it really was so similiar, Spike's hand sending shivers down his body (Angelus' hand so cold, like ice but better.) His tongue running along the back of his neck (it was so cold Spike never thought he'd be warm again and he never was) tasting salt and a bit of cologne. The stuff that pansy wanker stunk of. Wesley. The same shit he smelled on Angel when he arrived. Bloody git.
Spike grabbed Connor by the shoulders, his nails digging into the skin there, into the bone. "On your knees."
And the look, really it was just the same as his had been. Angelus (Angel Angel's son him they're all the same) . . . his nails digging into his own flesh.
And then there's Connor, not sure what to do, his eyes so wide, you'd think he'd never seen a man before. Granted, he'd probably never had a hard man in his face before (Spike remembers Angelus' cock being shoved down his throat) but the look on his face, really it's priceless.
"Don't be shy, pet," Spike said, his hand resting firmly on the back of Connor's neck.
Connor swallowed hard and closed his eyes, his tongue flicking out reluctantly. Slow licks along the length, unsure and shaking, until he got the hang of it. A grunt escaped Spike's lips, and surprised him for a moment. He sounded exactly like his sire. Exactly.
It's deja vu, but not quite right, reversed, like looking in a funhouse mirror when you're drunk. As Connor gets more into the groove, more comfortable, his mouth working Spike's hardness earnestly, Spike flashes back, to the alley, his own mouth working Angelus until that beautiful body, his sire's body, bucked against his face, spilling his seed into his mouth.
And it's enough to send him over the edge with a growl. Just as he comes he pictures Wesley between his sire's legs, licking and sucking, and then it fades to Wesley writhing under Angel and . . .
He pulls Connor up roughly, as the boy (oh he is such a boy a boy trying to be a man) is trying to figure out what to do. "Just bloody swallow," Spike says, his face morphing into its vampiric visage.
Connor's eyes narrow, like he had forgotten that Spike was a demon. His body falls into his fight stance (fight stance that's where the similarities end, William no William was not a fighter).
Spike cocks his head, surveying the (manchild childman son father boy) shaking thing in front of him.
And then Connor's on him, and Spike crashes to the floor, Connor on his back. There's silence for a moment, Connor's breath warm on Spike's ear. "I'm not as innocent as you think."
"Is that right?" Spike asks, not sure what to make of this. This - boy, this child . . .
"It is," Connor says softly. "You have no idea. About me. You don't have a clue."
A shrug, a soft grin, Spike isn't fazed.
Connor runs his tongue along Spike's ear, soft and . . . where the hell did he learn how to do that? His hands are all over Spike. "First of all, I'm not you." (Oh he isn't how he isn't but he is and he's his father and Spike but fuck maybe even his own person and maybe not so bloody innocent.)
Spike doesn't know what to say, for once he is stunned silent.
"And you," Connor says, his hands really really they're getting quite friendly, "are not Angelus."
Spike was attempting to think of something to respond with when Connor rolled off of him, letting him roll over. So Spike did, and propped himself up on his elbows. "Look at you, maybe you're Angelus."
And then Connor's on him again, his fists pounding him relentlessly, but Spike doesn't flinch, even though he wants to. He flips Connor over so Spike is now the one lying on top of the boy.
Connor stops for a moment, his breathing coming out ragged, a distinctly scared look shining in his eyes despite his attempts to conceal it. He is truly vulnerable, and Spike recognizes this.
The vampire acts quickly, capturing Connor's lips in a swift but surprisingly soft kiss - the tenderness of it surprises even him.
Connor stares up at him, his eyes wide, and both are silent. Connor reaches up, and runs his fingers over Spike's eyebrow ridges softly.
"You're a demon," Connor says, his voice hardly audible, like he's trying to remind himself.
"And what are you?"
Connor closes his eyes and swallows hard, avoiding the question.
"Right then." Spike gets up, and begins to dress.
"Wait," Connor says.
Spike turns around, looking expectantly at the boy. When Connor says nothing, Spike raises his eyebrow. "Yes?"
"Could you . . ."
"Could I? I don't have all night. Well I do, but that's hardly the point."
"Forget it," Connor says quickly, lowering his eyes.
"No," Spike says firmly. "The point and fast."
Connor doesn't look up, but instead keeps his gaze fixed firmly to the ground. "I just thought . . . maybe you could stay."
Spike studies him for a moment. "Now you want me to stay? I thought Buffy was bad at sussing out what she really wants, but you really - "
"Just stay."
And Spike does. He's not entirely sure why. He just knows there's something about Connor, about the way he looks at him, sometimes with disgust and sometimes with something . . . different.
There's something inherently twisted about fucking Angel's son, but there's something even more twisted about loving him.