Childe and Sire
Spike and Angelus stood beaming at each other, their clothing and faces covered in a fine layer of dust.
"Cor Angelus, I'm right glad we decided to dust Grandmum and my Princess." Spike said in a godawful Mockney accent. "They weren't half getting in the way of our fun. Nagging at us all the time, baking scones, making as take out the garbage, going on about wanting babies, all those things that birds do."
Angelus smirked in agreement. "You're not half wrong there lad", he said, inexplicably sticking his hand out in a beam of light and then making masturbatory hand signals. "I do like the ladies but there's nothing quite like the feeling of a virgin vampire arse clenching around your throbbing yardstick."
Spike blinked for a second, in an equally annoying Mockney way. "Cor! But don't the dickey bird lasses have arses as well?"
Angelus smirked as he was prone to do it a lot. "Right you are Childe O Mine, but not the same as the firm supple manly tightness that only a fellow male vampire can possess.", Angelus explained with the voice of aged wisdom and half a bottle of Irish Whiskey. "With ye rippling man arse muscles clenching around me firm manly man cock, as nature itself intended. No woman can clench like a man can clench!"
Angelus looked over his companion with his manly high cheekbones, and masculine long eyelashes and full pouty lips and felt a stirring in his neither regions. Realising that it was probably just body lice frolicking in his underwear once again it didn't stop his full manly erection bobbing to attention, reading to thrust and parry and stab in between the pale white globes that surrounded the pink puckered valley that lead to the tightest sheath a man could know. Angelus suddenly realised that perhaps he was reading more of Spike's poetry than was probably prudent.
"Well, Sire…", Spike began.
"How about you call me Master from now on laddie?", Angelus said smirking and jerking his hand about while breathing heavily.
"Fuck no."
"Well it was worth a try."
Spike gave Angelus the once over, noticing his mannish full lips and long eyelashes and his wholly masculine long flowing locks and he felt his arselips quivering in anticipation like a childe who was about to be ecstatically pleasured by a sire as only a sire can, with the thrusting and the ripping and the blood splattering against the ceiling. Yeah, good times. "So Sire, dearest, now with those stupid broads out of the way I feel like I should give you a pet name."
Angelus sighed, but still smirked slightly. It was a thing. "Can't you just use my name?"
Spike reeled back in horror. "Oh hell no, how boring would that be?" He pondered over his options, his cheeks sucked in and his cheekbones pronounced, his full lips pouting, Angelus's wang doing the conga in his pants. "Lets see, I called that daft bat Dru 'my ripe wicked plum', so something in the fruit oeuvre would be the thing." His eyes lit up. "I've got it...Peaches!"
"Fuck no."
"Oh, go on!"
Spike pouted and fluttered his eyelashes. In an incredibly manly kind of way.
Angelus could feel his heart falling at the rate that his penis was leaping out of his pants, throbbing like his heart couldn't. "Alright then, Peaches it is, but you can only use it one time."
"Right you are, Peaches." And Spike kept his promise and never used the word ever again after that one time. Never. Not once. Used only once. Get it?
Angelus and Spike stood there some more, sniffing and tearing still because of all the girly ineffectual dust, though their thick long butch eyelashes did kept most of it at bay.
"Well my darling, my loved one, my sweetikins that I loved more than Darla with all my soul, my very nonexistent soul. Let us sing and dance and brush each other's hair in celebration of the fact that we are free from the feminine shackles that bound us, free like my penis begs to be, free like Ireland should be you English pig!" Angelus momentarily forgot himself and loving choked Spike for a few minutes until Spike retaliated and lovingly fondled Angelus's balls with his boot tip.
"Forgive me darling boy, I forgot myself." They embraced each other, soothing hands running down each others backs, soothing endearments whispered into each other's ears, soothing eight inches of cock grinding into each other thighs.
"Shall we, my Lush Naughty Nectarine?" And with that Spike clutched Angelus's hand and they went out into the night to twirl and frolic through a meadow of wildflowers, gazing into each others eyes and laughing with heads tilted back towards the star filled sky, twirling, twirling, giddy with the manly love they shared. Soulless love. Pure manly love.
The End. Or is it? No, it probably is.