All was quiet at the factory. Too quiet. Nothing was going to plan. Infact he had no plan right now. Frustrated, Angelus paced among the crates and debris. Making fists, making furrows in his brow, not making plans. Too quiet! Spike....
He hadn't expected him to be there, thought maybe Drusilla had taken the invalid for a spin. But as his agitation brought him passed the doorway to the room the couple had made their bedchamber, Angelus sensed him, felt him, caught his scent. He was just lying there; skin glowing silver in the moonlight spilling freely through the small, high window; drapes cast to one side. Sleeping late. Church candles guttered, adding a subtle smoky aroma to the mix. He leant against the door jamb, dark eyes large, watchful; felt his fists uncurling...
The girls were dressed in their finest and out on the town, looking for fun and food. It seemed to be increasingly the way. He had considered joining them, but his restless sleep had left him feeling out of sorts and there was business here to attend to. Disturbing dreams to overcome, subdue. And so, breeches and boots in place but immaculately white cotton shirt hanging loose and open, he had made his excuses and wished them good hunting. Before quietly slipping into the chamber where William still slept. Somewhat like in his darkest dream. Pale, naked, stretched out on his back atop a comfortable pile of bedclothes. Vulnerable, yet deadly.
In the dream, as now, Angelus was drawn to the bedside, raking his fingers though his hair, trying to decide, feeling his desire grow. Kill him now! Or, as in his dream, give in to the pull in the pit of his stomach, the ache in his groin, the near dizziness in his head. But never the tug in his heart.... Never that!
Drusilla had left one small lamp alight in the otherwise heavily darkened room, casting a flattering, seductive light... Angelus stifled a groan, kept it lodged in his throat, as his cock made his decision for him. Unbuttoning in haste as he loomed over his sleeping apprentice, sliding his breeches back down over his buttocks, enjoying the feel of his own determined fingers on his cheeks, he cautiously moved to kneel on the soft bed. William did not stir, not even as the mattress dipped under his grandsire's weight or as Angelus' phallus brushed against his calf. Nor did he show any signs of wakefulness as Angelus reached across him for a pillow, or when he eased it under the young man's hips.
But when his legs were gently parted, surely he was aware? When the often violent and cruel fingers stroked and danced their way up from ankle to thigh; when his knees were bent and legs carefully draped over muscular shoulders; when the oft-times vicious tongue slowly licked the full length of his thickening, twitching cock, tickled his balls, trailed down to his entrance and made it slick with saliva.... he had to know then, surely?
And yet still William made no movement, no sound. Until Angelus lowered his weight down to him, adjusted the position of the young man's hips just a little, guided his now straining cock to his hole. And pushed. Pushed again. And entered at the third stroke, groan at last released from throat. Only then did William show any signs of life, unlife. Eyes opening wide, legs winding tightly round Angelus' neck, being rocked with each thrust, penetrating deeper than the last, he moved suddenly. Legs forcing Angelus down further, hands clasping his head, his mouth parted hungrily, his tongue eagerly forcing a penetration of its own. Angelus had no will to fight the kiss. Instead he thrust harder, faster, knowing he was reaching the place that sent William into spasms, caused him to roar and dig his elegant poet's fingers fiercely into Angelus' flesh. WILLIAM! his mind screamed as he felt his balls tighten, pull.
"Spike. My name is Spike. Call me Spike!" William gasped, before dragging Angelus' fist down between them, to his aching cock.
In his dream, as they had come, noisily, messily, William had plunged a sharp wooden stake into his back, forcing it through to his heart, causing him to fragment and fall away before he had the chance to respond. Now, as he yelled "Spike!" into his lover's open mouth, the boy just laughed and clutched him all the harder....
And now, as the flames danced and history seemed intent on repeating itself, Spike again pulled him into a fierce, passionate kiss. But remained silent. Silent as Angelus grunted and strained, and climaxed inside him. Silent, even though he had been astonished, shocked, grateful as Angelus thrust. Even though he had felt it all. Every stroke. Had felt Angelus' member large, hard and insistent inside him. Felt him hit that spot time and again. Ironic to have to fight the erection threatening to give him away, after all these weeks of nothing... But Angelus mustn't know.
"No-one must know!" Angelus hissed as he withdrew, head spinning, thoughts jumbled. Never the heart, never that...
He stared wildly into the candelight. AAH! Candles! Now he had a plan!