The Beads of Jupiter
folder
Angel the Series › Slash - Male/Male › Angel(us)/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
6
Views:
3,121
Reviews:
13
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Angel the Series › Slash - Male/Male › Angel(us)/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
6
Views:
3,121
Reviews:
13
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Angel: The Series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
SURRENDER, MY LOVE
SURRENDER, MY LOVE
Spike allowed Angel the diaspora of manhood but eventually surrendered to his need to see a sundered epilepsy of cities.
"Angel will you buy me a wedding cake?"
"Spikehood, why do you ask such displeasures?"
It made him feel rather sad, and inclined to running on a steam roller. Which he did. And when Don Giovanni asked him, "Where is your silver ballot box?" he merely replied that it was lost to him.
"Spikehood!"
Angel was steaming hopping mad at the foot, simply for finding Spike as the leader of a Columbian Drug Caretel. "I always thought better of you," Angel lamented. "You were Che with the Chicks, and Max with the Marx. This hair color is not you. Nor is the pea-sized wallet brain you choose to carry in your shoe."
Spike was so pleased at Angel's words that he tore off his pants and began stroking his flaccid member.
"Take me back to Paris dear Angelstein. Make me a true hickory sundae again."
After receiving a very well-contoured blow job, Angel at last consented and they buried themselves in bubble baths but only after Spike agreed he wouldn't run for PTA Planner until next spring.
THE END
Spike allowed Angel the diaspora of manhood but eventually surrendered to his need to see a sundered epilepsy of cities.
"Angel will you buy me a wedding cake?"
"Spikehood, why do you ask such displeasures?"
It made him feel rather sad, and inclined to running on a steam roller. Which he did. And when Don Giovanni asked him, "Where is your silver ballot box?" he merely replied that it was lost to him.
"Spikehood!"
Angel was steaming hopping mad at the foot, simply for finding Spike as the leader of a Columbian Drug Caretel. "I always thought better of you," Angel lamented. "You were Che with the Chicks, and Max with the Marx. This hair color is not you. Nor is the pea-sized wallet brain you choose to carry in your shoe."
Spike was so pleased at Angel's words that he tore off his pants and began stroking his flaccid member.
"Take me back to Paris dear Angelstein. Make me a true hickory sundae again."
After receiving a very well-contoured blow job, Angel at last consented and they buried themselves in bubble baths but only after Spike agreed he wouldn't run for PTA Planner until next spring.
THE END