"Shadow"
by Alexandria
PAIRING: Spike/Drusilla/Angelus
RATING: NC-17
SPOILERS: What's My Line, part 2
SUMMARY: Set while Spike is in the wheelchair.

Angelus bent his head to Dru's lips once more, gently, carefully tracing the perfect outline with just the tip of his tongue. His hands framed her face reverently, his fingertips just barely pressing into the dark hair at her temples. Slowly, slowly he pressed down his mouth, deepening the kiss bit by bit, knowing he had infinite time at his disposal, that there was no rush, no hurry, no need to press frantically on. No, there was just this, just the two of them worshipping the other's flesh. A small moan escaped Dru's lips as his tongue sought hers, as he pulled it into his mouth, tangling them together, the coolness sliding around and around.

His hands tightened in Dru's hair, tangling in the rich tresses, the silky feel just a taste of the slide of her flesh. The kiss grew more frantic, more desperate as their desire grew. He tore his head away from that needy mouth to begin trailing light touches down her throat, his hands dropping to her waist, drawing her tightly against him. He nipped his way down the white column of her skin while her hands roamed greedily on his back, finally moving to his shoulder to tug at the fabric of his coat, her actions communicating her want more clearly than any words.

He lifted his head, seeing that her eyes were still firmly closed, held as tightly shut as they had been since he first began kissing her. He smiled, pleased at the sight, then led her to the bed. He settled down next to her, then leaned back over to capture her mouth again, easing her down, cradling her body as it fell back. He nestled on top of her, his hands beginning to run over the curves of her flesh.

"Please," she sighed, eyes still screwed tightly shut. Angelus just nodded and began undressing her, unveiling her flesh as if it were a gift, as if she was a fragile porcelain doll that would shatter at the slightest touch. Finally she was laid bare before him and he paused for a moment, memorizing every inch of her flesh, leaning back to rest at her feet. He stayed there for long moments, then picked up a foot, fingers trailing along the perfect arch. Her head began to toss and turn as he suckled on the soft spot right above her ankle, as the strong hands moved their way up her thighs. He had stripped quickly while resting at her feet and the touch of his cool skin banked the fire that burned inside her. Cool swipes of tongue against her nipples and she moaned again, throwing her legs open wide.

"Please," said again, but more frantic now, her hips arching up, trying to draw him inside her. He instantly obeyed, slipping his hard length in inch by aching inch, drawing it out, resisting the urge to simply pound into her. They stayed locked together for countless moments until the rocking of her hips pulled them from their reverie. They moved together in the familiar rhythm, the pulse of stolen blood warming their flesh. Strong arms reached under her back and he leaned back, settling her across him as they continued to move as one. Her eyes never opened.

Angelus looked straight ahead, locking eyes with his childe. He kept his eyes open, kept their gazes locked as he brought the memories to the fore, calling forth every instance he had witnessed this, every time he had watched Spike make love to Dru, remembering every touch, every move, doing his best to replicate the actions. He saw Spike's eyes glittering in the night, the longing and pain as the hands grasped the arms of the wheelchair. He concentrated harder, controlling his own urge to brutalize the tender body in his arms. No, instead he moved only for her, caring nothing for his release, seeking only to bring her pleasure, to show her love through touch and taste. He moved his hips at Spike's slow pace, traced his hands in Spike's patterns, kissed her neck at just the spot Spike loved best. He heard her begin to pant, could feel her orgasm coming.

"William," gasped into his ear. "William, sweet William," called over and over. He never tore his eyes from Spike's as his own climax hit, fighting to keep them open, wanting Spike to see and feel the grip of her on his flesh.

He settled Dru back on the bed and slowly peeled away, running a finger between her breast, gathering the sweat beading there. He turned to kneel at Spike's feet and slowly lifted his hand to his childe's lips. Spike's tongue curled out and licked the drops from his skin, the taste of her drenching Spike's parched flesh. Their eyes met again, thanks wordlessly given, wordlessly received.

END