Reflections

With dawn approaching, nose to nose, groin pressed against groin and two sets of sticky, semen covered hands gripped together, Connor feels a ripple of anger at Spike’s instant regret. Desperate to show he has no such misgivings, a strong tongue weaves against Spike’s, imploring, showing that this need not end. He sighs against the vampire’s mouth, hooking his foot around Spike’s ankle but it’s too late, the vampire has cooled as quickly as their come.

“Free-show – you don’t get a many of those in LA.”

Connor and Spike’s heads whip round in unison, first to take in the speaker and then to follow the clatter of the coin that, a couple of seconds later, chinks to the ground. Their benefactor? A tall vampire with what passes for a grin splitting his features. Instinctively, Connor makes to push his lover away but then holds himself in check when he feels Spike’s fingers grip his hips firmly and reach slowly behind him to Connor’s back pocket for…ah, the stake. The human pulls the impassive vampire’s mouth close to his, searching yellow eyes for the next move. They could take this guy but Spike seems unconcerned even as he works the stake free. He trails it against Connor’s ass, teasing him a little with its sharp end. The human can feel himself melting again and so soon when he should be battle ready; instead, all he can feel is desire, the urge to fight momentarily lost in marked contrast to Spike who, although he is still wrapped around him physically, Connor sees is entirely detached mentally. This hurts. It hurts to be tossed aside.

“Nice smell of whore-house…reminds me of my Mom.” The intruder sniffs loud – a stage sniff. “Difference is, ladies, even my Mom kept her business behind closed doors. There’s no respect these days. I’m thinking…I oughtta write to someone, but you know…what’s the point?”

“Yeah mate…” Connor can feel Spike’s face hollow against his as he smiles and turns very slightly to acknowledge the other vamp. “You might get a spot on Jerry Springer, ‘Vamp I loved fucks humans’…”

A chuckle from behind them. “Sure…’My Consort loves my enemy’ – great show that’d be…”

Sarcastic vamp isn’t alone; Connor can make out the almost imperceptible tread of booted feet approaching. He feels Spike re-button his flies. He can’t tell if Spike is nervous or embarrassed. Connor can hear his own heart pounding in his ears, his cheeks smarting more from shame than from post-coital heat. They could waste this guy no sweat but Spike seems more interested in like-minded banter. Maybe he wants to provoke the intruder before he teaches the jerk a lesson.

“Do you know this vamp?” Connor hisses into Spike’s ear.

“Are you taking the piss? No. I’m disarming him with my acid wit, you twat.”

“Hey, British dude – what’s a twat?”

“Now, if I could I’d hold up a mirror an’ show you...”

Connor has to agree with Spike’s assessment; it seems not all vampires are as stylish as his peroxide punk. Their soon to be opponent was someone who’d forgotten to change his underpants the day he was turned. Connor scans for back-up - the unlife he can smell but he can’t see - his eyes settle on a composed, bumpy headed, agonizingly beautiful Spike who grips the stake and leans in to lick at what remains of Connor on his index finger, sending a jolt of desire through the human in response. He never once takes his eyes off the intruder.

With a flicker of concern, Connor realises the vamp is suddenly in silhouette as the sky lightens behind him and dawn approaches.

***

Bugger. Sun up soon – what was he thinking? Spike’s eyes flicker momentarily in the direction of the battle ready destroyer. He can still feel the rasp of the human’s stubble on his neck and face where Connor shuddered against him a short while ago. He can see the boy has lost a button on his shirt from…shit – he needs to snap out of this post-coital meltiness before it gets them both killed. Skanky back-up approaching – he’ll have to put on a good show for Connor, and a quick one at that , so he can retreat indoors before he becomes toast.

“Dude,” his enemy goads. “What you doing messing with humans – an old one like you?”

“Spike!” Connor protests, “You gonna kill this fuck?”

“Spike? William the Bloody!” The vamp, of course, knows the name, and Spike feels a ripple of shame and delight at his own legend.

“The one and only.” How he wishes he had his precious coat to add that dramatic swirl as his left foot catches the intruder with a blow that sends him falling over the wall. “Well, isn’t that a shame?” Spike grins at Connor who leaps to the low wall, searching for another way down.

“Show time, Spike.” He says, his voice calm but indicating with a world-weary look that re-enforcements are on their way.

With the volume of a subway train, a very bumpy, roaring cadre of vampires emerges to surround them on the roof. Spike and Connor exchange gleeful glances then launch themselves into the thick of them.

As their assailants inevitably fall, one by one into little piles of dust, Spike finally has time between ferocious jabs of his stake and unbounded kicks to admire Connor’s acrobatics. In contrast to Spike’s measured, lethal movements, Connor adds a flourish to every kick and punch; how much better to kill two at once, back-flip in triumph, go down in style rather than chip at your opponent in style. Reminds Spike of someone he used to be very fond of once upon a time – himself.

What a pair they make, he thinks, as Connor generously kicks a vampire towards Spike’s stake – a feral grin emerging from behind the dissolving vampire like, Spike imagines, the sun breaking through a storm cloud. Spike’s world slows for a moment and, his cock jumps when he notices that Connor has split his lip and a drop of blood gleams in the light of the wakening day.

***

As the latest vampire tumbles against Spike’s stake, Connor watches the dust clear like a swarm of insects scattering, and Spike’s pouting, jubilant features emerge. Connor realises that this is something he has never seen before – the aesthetics, the beauty of death. Some part of him recognises that he has fought alongside others before but it never felt this good before. Here is approval for once in his life – Spike likes the way Connor does things. Connor can’t help but grin with delight. He’s filled with heat from head to toe, then, worried that he looks goofy, Connor quickly re-arranges his grin for what he hopes passes for a gladiatorial grimace.

“We have to hurry, Spike!”

The master vampire who started the skirmish, sails past Connor and flattens Spike, knocking the stake from his hands.

“Need to get indoors.” Spike grunts as he heaves the master vampire off his prone body and upwards towards Connor who side kicks him over the edge again. “But I’m kind of enjoying myself!” He leans to look at the street, “He’s buggered off – bloody light-weight.”

“Just us left.” Connor stills, waits, his heart thudding, cock burning. “Yes. We need to get inside.” Spike stands right beside him now. No perspiration, no panting, no thudding heart – the human suffers enough biology for both of them.

“Got any beer at your place?” Spike hooks steady thumbs behind Connor’s head, “I’ve worked up quite a thirst.”

“I…” any protestations never make it through as Spike pulls the boy’s tongue into his mouth, sucking furiously while he lifts the human up and presses him into the wall.

“You’re wearing too many clothes.” Kisses down his temple, inch by unhurried inch, along his jaw line, finally tongue quivering at Connor’s burst lip. Lapping at the gleam of blood lasciviously “and I’m not nice when I can’t get a drink."

Fear floods through Connor, but he finds he can’t move. This is how vampires work – as likely to fuck you as kill you, and the victim not caring which, wanting both.

“You don’t want me to, do you?”

“What, bite me?” Of course he didn’t.

“I meant meet your folks.”


TBC