Title: daimOn ex machina
Author: copperbeech
Rating: NC-17
Classification: R/A/Angelus

He hadn't seen me until the swirling dust of her dissipated into the balmy night air. But as soon as he did, he froze, as much from the shock of seeing me, as from the sudden loss of her bite.

I slipped the stake back into my pocket as I approached, quickly concealing my shadow face.

"What do you want?" He was defensive, reeking of anger, but his voice wavered.

I shook my head. "Not about what I want..."

For the last few months it had only been about him. She was destroying him, and I had frantically paced between saving him from himself and holding the door to shove him through... Ultimately, I realized those things were one and the same, and that this was the only way.

The closer I came to him, the clearer it was-- that wonderful scent... brazen, decadent. I had known many in my time, who sought us out, the pathetic romantics who wanted a martyr's death, those who would come willingly their sights naively fixed on immortality, or the ones who begged to wield our powers... Not this one. He had no grand delusions, no thrall with self-destruction. No, he smelled of the love of that carnal delicacy few humans experience, except in those fleeting moments that we held their deaths in our mouths, sole control of their pleasure depending on our final swallow. He smelled of blood, the aphrodisiac of his own craving.

He wore it beautifully, pulse pumping with adrenaline, supplication increasing as he gave his blood...

Never had I scented such a lust for the letting as with Riley Finn.

And it had been so long for me.

He said something more, something about Buffy, about hating me, and leaving him alone, but I didn't let him finish.

"No more two-bit whores for you, boy," I said, and before he could react, I claimed him in the same wounds the bitch had made, stretching them, bearing down hard to obliterate any filth she'd left on him, or any before her. His whole body tensed against mine, hands flexing, grasping at my arms. I held him so he wouldn't fall, and he clung to me like my own clothing as I drank him.

It was glorious, a fine arrival from a long, dry sabbatical, the blood of a strong beautiful man warming me home. He expected nothing from me, or from the world, though I gave him all I had... what he truly wanted.

He had only to let himself know that.

His body slacked in my arms, but he was fully present. He knew me like I knew him. I knew he would do anything for me, and I demanded nothing less than his all to show him that I knew.

"Never been like this before, has it?" I murmured against his neck, lapping blood that trickled into the hollow of his throat. He shook his head, heart pounding, arms still wrapped around me. "We're both struggling to keep our souls..." I whispered to the weeping mark.

He was completely willing, so true to his sweet nature, and I felt no resistance in him whatsoever. When I released him and pushed his head down to my crotch, he received me whole, starving. He swallowed all that I had, then collapsed against me and I lifted him and carried him home.

~*~*~*~

He was pulling on his jeans and shirt as I emerged from the shower, only a towel around my hips. Before he even looked at me, I sensed shame in him, chaos. His eyes met mine, and I saddened immensely in their despair as he looked me over.

He didn't know, and I had failed in showing him.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"Away... I have to go away," he responded. He sat on the edge of the bed, dressing, scrambling to lace his boots.

I approached him, carefully. "Where?" He was shaking, weak, as he should have been from the letting I'd given him, from everything he'd been through recently.

"I don't know... just not here... not there... I'll go somewhere..."

"You can stay here."

"Why would I do that?" He had looked at me point blank then, and although the look arrested me, I moved closer to him, crouching between his knees.

"Because I want you here, and you want to be here. What you felt last night, it was real..." Then I whispered, touching his lips, "and you can have it anytime you want."

The longing in his eyes only hinted the need I felt in him. He wanted to stay. He felt what was between us, but somehow it wasn't enough. I had given him everything but still failed. And he dint have to say the words for me to know it.

He looked at me bemused, hesitant. I steadied myself for goodbye, when he finally said, "I want you both."

Simple, painfully sweet, this bare admission, a request that no human had ever made of me, and I knew exactly what he meant.

I was speechless.

I couldn't marvel more at his skill in unknowingly turning tables, his complete unawareness of how he moved me... or my inability to fully see into this man.

I pulled open the buttons of his fly and kissed his cock, indulging fully our need to join. I let the towel drop from my hips, and pulled him down on the floor. Settling squarely on his lap, I slowly, slowly took him in, bringing the demon closer with each stroke, until finally, we both rode him.

We'd never shared a lover before. We'd never shared anything, in spite of our strange union.

We held each other as we fucked, his soft hair brushing smooth against the rough face, a pristine sensation for this demon... An odd warmth crept from lips to tongue as he licked, lingering, his kisses willful, intentional.

Head resting on his shoulder, eye lids grown heavy, the mark on his throat mesmerizing with the rhythm of our bodies, licking it, sucking it, we came and we knew.

The End