[identity profile] katekintail.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] rain_of_gold
Title: Fetish and Loathing on the Way to Vienna
Rating: R
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Pairing: Angelus/Spike
Warnings: These are vampires. They kill people. Consider yourself warned.
Disclaimer: Not my characters. I make no money from this!
Notes: Written for a comment fic fest prompt. But at 6 pages, it’s too long for me to feel like splitting up to fit as comments.

Spike was just finishing a young gentleman in the drawing room when Angelus found him. He took a final gulp, dropped the lifeless body to the carpeted floor, and took out his handkerchief. Dabbing at his lips make it come away with spots of blood on the fabric.

“There y’are.” Angelus leaned on the inside of the doorway, a playful look in your eyes. “Have ye drunk yer fill yet, William?”

“How long until you start calling me Spike?”

Angelus nodded toward the fine handkerchief. “William the Bloody has a much nicer ring to it. So have ye finished here?”

Spike looked around at the bodies of the young lord and servants who had once lived in this manor house. His body no longer cried out with hunger. “Finished,” he agreed.

“Good. I’ll leave ye to a chamber pot and wait out front with the carriage.”

Spike’s ears perked. “You got a carriage, did you?”

“Mmm,” Angelus toed one of the bodies, rolling it slightly so he beheld the terrified expression on her face when she died. “The coachman was much more agreeable when I left him with enough blood and wits to drive and promised to let him go once we reached Vienna.”

Spike’s eyebrows rose. Surely that wasn’t all it took.

“I may have also tied him to the carriage.”

Grinning, “Then let’s go.”

Angelus didn’t move. “Chamber pot?”

“One in the bedroom, I assume. Do you need it?”

“William, ye just drank five—“

“Seven. Two of the kitchen staff as well.”

“Seven then. Certainly you must need to—”

“I need to get to Vienna to meet up with Drusilla and Darla as soon as possible. Let us make haste.”

Angelus shrugged. “They don’t expect us until the morning. But our carriage awaits.”

The driver, it turned out, was a shaky thing. He was pale in the moonlight, slender and trembling as if from the cold. Spike figured Angelus had drained him of a bit too much. But the reins were tied to his hands and he was tied to the metal seat above the carriage. The horses were hitched. Nothing left to do but climb in and be on their way.

As far as carriages went, this one was excellent. Two bench seats, one on each side, hinged doors with latches, and blood red velvet curtains that hung over the windows. The seats had plush cushions on the seat and along the backs, making it feel like they were sitting in luxury. Spike leaned back and closed his eyes as the clip-clopping began. Twelve horse hooves against cobblestone streets and the streak of wheels following. “Well chosen,” Spike told him.

Angelus sat across from him, facing backward. He stretched his legs out and propped his boots up on the seat beside Spike. “Couple-a hours and we’ll be there.”

Angelus was a fair travelling companion, but he always thought he knew best and always had to be the one in control. He longed for Drusilla, for her touch and her smile and her crazy unpredictable ways. “Couldn’t come soon enough.” Spike crossed his arms over his chest.

That statement was never truer an hour later. There wasn’t much to look at, here in the middle of a forest, but Spike had pinned back one of the curtains to give them a view of the trees flying past the window. Something just felt right about taking this spooky, moonlit road to the city. It wasn’t until they were well into their journey that he realized just what.

Normal folk made their way anywhere with the safety of the sun upon them; only scoundrels, vagabonds, robbers, and wealthy landlords traveled at night. So when their carriage slowed to a stop and loud shouts could be heard, Spike knew that whoever that was must be ready for a surprise. He glanced at Angelus, who grinned and changed faces.

The two leapt from the carriage on either side. Though dressed finely, the two together were worse than any mortals waiting to pounce upon a coach passing through. A bullet to the chest hurt, but did not stop him. A knife to the gut hurt, but did not stop him. A cry of terror excited him, but did not stop him. Spike sank his teeth in and drank until the body stopped thrashing in his arms, until the only scream was coming from the hoarse voice of their driver, shaking all the more for what he’d just witnessed.

“Now, now,” Angelus purred with a mock-soothing tone. “Nothin’ to be scared about. They would have killed you too. Looks to me like we saved ye from those rogues.” He reached up, patting the carriage’s black metal side. “Best way to pay us back is to get us to Vienna right away, aye?”

The man nodded repeatedly, too terrified to answer. Spike held fast to the bar outside the door, jumping aboard as the carriage took off with a jolt. He sat down and winced as the great wheels rolled over one dead body, then two, the whole carriage rocking from that.

“All right?” Angelus asked, having noticed Spike’s expression.

“Of course.” But his chest hurt, even as he pulled the bullet out and dropped it unceremoniously to the carriage floor. It rolled toward Angelus then back again, coming to rest in the corner by Spike, thanks to the forward momentum of the carriage. He peeled back layers, shrugging off his jacket, unbuttoning his vest, and pulling down his dress shirt to slip his handkerchief in. Thanks to the fresh blood, the wound was already starting to heal itself. By the time he reached Dru, it would be all mostly taken care of, though a little tender for a day or too. But Dru liked him vulnerable. Sometimes she tortured him just for fun. Sometimes she tortured him because he begged her to.

“Want mine?” Angelus offered, digging out his own hanky. “Gettin’ sloppy there, William.” He leaned forward and pressed his handkerchief to William’s belly where the stab wound was.

Spike winced again. The wound wasn’t deep. It was really just a scratch. But Angelus had pushed just the wrong way in just the wrong place.

“Does it hurt?” Angelus looked suddenly concerned.

William looked out the window again. He was suddenly aware of every bump in the road. And suddenly worried about a new urge. “No,” he whispered. “I’m fine.”

“Aye?” Angelus reached down and lifted up the hems of Spike’s shirt and vest so he could take a look at the injury. “Ah, just a scratch.” He pressed the handkerchief there again.

“Bloody hell!” Instinctively, he pushed Angelus away. He turned, facing the wall of the carriage, which was cold. What he would have given for more warmth than just that little lantern at the ceiling of the carriage.

Somewhat offended at being pushed away, Angelus sat down on the opposite seat again. “What is the mat…” His words died away as he rubbed a hand over his face. “Oh, William.” He shook his head. “William, William, William. Had too much to drink, did ye?”

Spike stared daggers at him. “You knew this would happen.”

“I told ye to use a chamber pot.”

“I loathe you.”

“And if I didn’t have ye along, I’d be facin’ a quiet and dry journey to Vienna.”

“Just have the carriage driver pull over.”

“And have ye disappear in the forest and wet down a tree? Not very dignified. What will Dru say?”

Spike glared. “She’d say you’re a bloody bastard.”

“Dru loves me.”

“You’re still a bloody bastard.” He crossed his legs, then uncrossed them, then crossed them again. Then, a little uncertain, “You won’t really tell Dru about this will you?”

“About our William forgettin’ how much he can drink before he needs to piss? Why, do ye think it will change her opinion of you?”

Spike wasn’t worried. Dru knew him better than anyone else in the whole world, better than anyone ever had even bothered to know him. But he didn’t want Darla to find out. She would laugh at him. Angelus would join in, and he wasn’t sure he could handle them laughing at him.

Angelus’ chuckling now made Spike feel far too warm. He shifted and bounced a little.

“Need to hold yerself, do ye?”

“Hardly,” Spike snorted. But as soon as the suggestion hit his ears, he knew that was precisely what he desperately needed to do. He couldn’t very well do it with Angelus watching, but Angelus wouldn’t look away. In fact, he was watching Spike with a hungry look he reserved for delicious virginal nuns or Darla. Spike was fairly certain Angelus was not in the mood to feed on him, which could only mean… Spike smiled. “But if you think I should…” His hand reached down and seized his cock through his thin britches. At the very same moment, he saw Angelus give a start, sort of jumping in his seat, only solidifying Spike’s theory.

There were few things more miserable than having to wee and being stuck in a carriage with Angelus. But if Spike could use that to his advantage and make Angelus uncomfortable, the situation wouldn’t be quite so bad after all. Soon enough, Angelus wouldn’t even dream of laughing.

“If only I hadn’t had that last drink, I’m sure I could have made it. But now I really need to go.” His hand tightened and relaxed again. Angelus squirmed beautifully.

With his free hand, Spike stroked his thigh, restless. “Now the only way I can keep from wetting my trousers is to hold myself like some little—”

“Stop!” Angelus declared. “I… don’t care to hear your problems, William.”

“Sorry. I can’t seem to help it.” He crossed his legs and added his other hand to his crotch, squeezing. It actually did help a lot. But he was sure it wouldn’t help for long. Seven, now eight adults. Usually their meals were split among four, not just two. And Spike always let Dru have the most beautiful ones and feed first, until she was full. He loved watching her feed, loved licking the trails of blood from the corners of her mouth.

Spike moaned and bent forward a little. Thinking about drinking wasn’t a great solution. And he knew he couldn’t think about pissing. If he asked again, he’d look like some whiney weakling. Angelus was already cross with him; he didn’t need the older vampire to come out of this thinking even more strongly that his Dru shouldn’t have sired him.

“Angelus,” Spike said at last. “Help?”

Exasperated, Angelus moved from his seat to a spot next to Spike. “How bad is it?”

“Bad.” Spike jiggled his leg and tensed his thighs.

“Could ye piss out the window perhaps?” He stoked Spike’s arm. It was a strange sensation.

Spike looked down at the hand. Dru touched him like that sometimes. Had she learned that from Angelus? “Pissing out the window isn’t dignified.” Of course, wetting himself wasn’t either. Or on the floor. Or on a tree. “I don’t think I can even stand up. I can’t make it to Vienna.” He bounced in his seat, the urge growing stronger. Much as he didn’t want to wet, he was curious to see Angelus’ reaction. “I don’t think I can make it even another minute.”

Angelus moved closer, arm around Spike. “I’ll toss my hat out the window. We’ll ask the carriage driver to stop and ye can duck out and wet down the—“

Spike shook his head. “Too late!” He could have held on longer, but the timing was nice. He leaned into Angelus and looked down. But the light of the lantern, he saw a dark brown patch spread on his light brown trousers. It was magical, really, watching it happen. Angelus seemed to think so as well. Neither of them could look away as the wetness slowly spread.

Then Spike’s bladder tweaked and the spot grew faster. A stream ran down the inner leg. Drops pooled under him. And still he went. He doubted any chamber pot could have held all of this, so it was just as well. Plus, he’d made an effort to make it. That had to count for something.

Angelus stroked his arm again, unable to look away as Spike wet himself. When it was over, Angelus moved in closer, resting his forehead against Spike’s temple. “It will be all right, William. That will dry.”

Spike’s gaze strayed from his own crotch and to Angelus’. He saw an unmistakable bulge there. And before he could stop himself, his hand was on it. His hand, wet from his trousers when he’d let go while still holding himself, strayed over as well. He rested it on Angelus’ crotch. Angelus gave another start. But he said nothing when Spike started stroking him there.

In fact, he made a needy sound, one Spike had heard him make when he had Darla up against a wall. He thought about what it would be like for Angelus to have him up against a wall. He wondered if he would have to have wet himself for Angelus to do it. He wondered if there were anything else Angelus liked. Because he definitely liked this. He liked being close. He liked Spike stroking him. He liked coming in Spike’s hand.

Angelus rocked into the touch, moaning. “That’s it. More. More!” Spike kept rubbing. It would be more efficient to reach in and take Angelus’ cock out—it might even be more dignified that way. But he couldn’t stop rubbing. He didn’t want to ruin the magic. Suddenly Angelus stiffened. “Yes, Spike. Oh!” He came powerfully, lower lip between his teeth.

Afterward, he sat back on his side of the carriage, staring out the window at the trees rushing past.

“Angelus?” Spike started, and Angelus flinched; he was listening. “When we get to Vienna…”

“We don’t speak of this to Darla and Dru.” Angelus’ voice was cold, his reply quick.

“All right,” Spike agreed. A few minutes passed before he spoke again. “I’m feeling a bit peckish. What do you say we make a quick detour for a snack on the way?” He waited a beat then added. “Perhaps some out of the way village? The sort without chamber pots?”

Angelus stared at him then smiled. He rose and leaned out the window to bang the side of the carriage with his hand. “Driver! We’ll need to make a stop!”

The mortal whimpered, but Spike grinned. He could pick up a few new pairs of trousers while they were at it.
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