Taste Me
folder
Angel the Series › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,063
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Angel the Series › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,063
Reviews:
1
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.
Taste Me
Title: Taste Me
Author: Mariska
Category: Angel
Spoilers: not really
Rating: R
Pairing: Spike/OFC
Feedback: Please!
Disclaimer: I don't own the show or the characters, but the mysterious woman is all mine!
He could hear her, and smell her, but couldn’t see her.
Spike sat in the crowded nightclub, casually sipping his third draft beer. Tonight was his first night off from Wolfram & Hart in a while and it felt great. The smoky atmosphere of this new club would have been perfect if he were still a hunter; pre-chip, pre-soul, pre-champion.
Her smell was old, he thought, the perfume of passed time. He could sense her movement, that cold body with no heartbeat moving oh so silently around the dance floor. She was stalking a victim she had already chosen, a behavior that was second nature to Spike.
But something was different.
He slugged the last of his draft and rose from his chair, heading to the bar for another. He scanned the dance floor for her, for the one who wasn’t breathing. She was wearing some kind of perfume, or maybe it was just a scented soap that had given away her femininity. It was hard to track her in this darkness and the throngs of warm, writhing, sweaty bodies.
Spike paused at the edge of the dance floor, still searching. He imagined for a moment that he could see her, blinking in and out of the clusters of dancers. Why hadn’t she picked one off yet? What was different? He leaned against the railing, placing his glass on the nearest table. Where was she?
Her scent was strong. The music throbbed in his ears.
An arm suddenly snapped around his neck, the hand grasping his hair and swept his head to the left side, pulling his body backwards and down. The other hand clamped around his right shoulder, holding him in place. He didn’t have time to react or resist. He dropped his glass to the ground; it shattered into pieces.
The initial shock of the bite was painful, but only for a moment. The pain quickly gave way into the powerful feeling of suction as she fed, like she was tickling her nails along his insides. The hand tightened in his hair, as did the arm across his throat. His eyes closed in the pleasure of the feeling. Her cool lips, the strangulation, the dizziness of blood loss. Her scent was overpowering. His knees buckled, but she held him upright, the hand on his arm moving around his waist, locking his body against hers. She felt firm behind him, devouring him slowly.
Painfully. But there was intense pleasure in the pain.
Suddenly, he was released and brutally shoved forward. Saving himself from falling over the railing and onto the floor, Spike spun around, but she was gone. He recovered as quickly as he could, drained but strangely aroused. He touched the still oozing bite on his neck.
“What the bloody hell!”
Author: Mariska
Category: Angel
Spoilers: not really
Rating: R
Pairing: Spike/OFC
Feedback: Please!
Disclaimer: I don't own the show or the characters, but the mysterious woman is all mine!
He could hear her, and smell her, but couldn’t see her.
Spike sat in the crowded nightclub, casually sipping his third draft beer. Tonight was his first night off from Wolfram & Hart in a while and it felt great. The smoky atmosphere of this new club would have been perfect if he were still a hunter; pre-chip, pre-soul, pre-champion.
Her smell was old, he thought, the perfume of passed time. He could sense her movement, that cold body with no heartbeat moving oh so silently around the dance floor. She was stalking a victim she had already chosen, a behavior that was second nature to Spike.
But something was different.
He slugged the last of his draft and rose from his chair, heading to the bar for another. He scanned the dance floor for her, for the one who wasn’t breathing. She was wearing some kind of perfume, or maybe it was just a scented soap that had given away her femininity. It was hard to track her in this darkness and the throngs of warm, writhing, sweaty bodies.
Spike paused at the edge of the dance floor, still searching. He imagined for a moment that he could see her, blinking in and out of the clusters of dancers. Why hadn’t she picked one off yet? What was different? He leaned against the railing, placing his glass on the nearest table. Where was she?
Her scent was strong. The music throbbed in his ears.
An arm suddenly snapped around his neck, the hand grasping his hair and swept his head to the left side, pulling his body backwards and down. The other hand clamped around his right shoulder, holding him in place. He didn’t have time to react or resist. He dropped his glass to the ground; it shattered into pieces.
The initial shock of the bite was painful, but only for a moment. The pain quickly gave way into the powerful feeling of suction as she fed, like she was tickling her nails along his insides. The hand tightened in his hair, as did the arm across his throat. His eyes closed in the pleasure of the feeling. Her cool lips, the strangulation, the dizziness of blood loss. Her scent was overpowering. His knees buckled, but she held him upright, the hand on his arm moving around his waist, locking his body against hers. She felt firm behind him, devouring him slowly.
Painfully. But there was intense pleasure in the pain.
Suddenly, he was released and brutally shoved forward. Saving himself from falling over the railing and onto the floor, Spike spun around, but she was gone. He recovered as quickly as he could, drained but strangely aroused. He touched the still oozing bite on his neck.
“What the bloody hell!”