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snoggedTitle: No Prayers In Hell
Author: snogged
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Co. own the characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I don’t.
Pairing: Father Angelus/Spike
Word Count: 1325
Rating: FRAO/NC-17; Spike is 17/18 (depending on how you'd like to think about it), adult language (sexual slurs), handjobs, non-con/dub-con, dark…AKA DIRTY!BAD!WRONG
Setting: Human AU
Summary: Father Angelus had always had an obsession for the pretty boys…and Spike is the prettiest ones he’d ever seen
Beta:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rockstarpeach and spikesredqueen. Any other mistakes are mine.
A/N: a belated gift to the super sweet and awesomely talentedangelstoy
A/N2: This is NOT a follow-up to “Sinner’s Hell”. I just got multiple requests from people for priest!kink. It’s clearly a new trend so of course, I seek to oblige :)
The linoleum tile squeaks beneath Spike’s combat boots as he shifts his weight, eyeing the barren wall of his room with a mixture of hatred and irritation. He knows it has only been a few hours since the young cleric led him in here but it feels more like days…weeks even.
He can’t remember the last time he saw the sun, can’t remember the smell of his mother’s perfume. Not that it matters. For all he cares, the woman can burn in a special hell for letting him rot here.
When the door creaks open, his head turns to see the coal-black cassock of the priest who abducted him. He could recognize those fucking robes anywhere. “What the hell do you want?”
Angelus smirks, leaning against the door jamb, watching the boy with fascination shimmering in his dark eyes. The boy’s feisty attitude intrigues him and it makes him all the more grateful that Spike’s parents were so easily convincible. That they’d been so quick to believe their son was a terrible sinner who needed to be set right. That they hadn’t read about his tactics and techniques with young boys or his unique obsession with corrupting and destroying the pretty ones.
And Spike is easily the prettiest boy that Principal Ethan Rayne of Sunnydale High had ever been referred to him. Rayne’s notes on him were a beautifully perverted tale of trouble and deviance that started his freshman year and has continued all the way to senior year. Mostly with the young women but there had been one instance where Spike had been caught in the boy’s locker room with his tongue down the throat of a naïve research nerd named Wesley.
“Do you know why you’re here, boy?”
Spike’s tongue darts past his lips, moistening the soft, pink flesh as his eyes “’Cause you tossed me in the back of a van? Thought it was a bloody sin to kidnap someone.”
Angelus chuckles, taking a large step into the room and closing the door behind him. “On the contrary, it was requested that you be removed from your home until the fear of God cured you of your sins.”
Spike felt jumpy. Sure, he’s lied and cursed and stuck his finger in Lilah Morgan’s cooter last week at school but did that really warrant detention in a monastery? “Seriously? I ain’t a bloody sinner. Pure as the driven snow. Just ask my mum.” He knows it’s a lie, but it can’t hurt to try. Maybe the priest will believe that load of bullshit and he can get out of this hellhole.
“I have spoken with your mum, son.” Angelus replies, taking a seat on the bed and resting his hand on Spike’s knee. Spike’s muscles tighten in response and Angelus can smell the boy’s fear drifting into his nostrils. Something about it made him want more, made him crave more. He wants Spike to be shaking with fear and anxiety by the time he’s done. “And from what I hear, you’ve done some truly sinful things. Things that would make God cringe in disgust and smite you where you stand.”
“How come he hasn’t then?” Spike says, defiance creeping into his voice.
Angelus frowns, fighting back the urge to backhand this kid and send him flying into the wall. “Because he wants you to be saved, son. Believes you can be saved.” His hand scoots up Spike’s thigh, edging closer to the apex of his jeans, inching closer to the flaccid cock trapped under the fabric.
The blond shudders, turning his head to focus on the metal frame of his cot, trying to ignore the way the priest is touching him. He knows its wrong to argue with authority but he also knows that what’s happening is wrong. That it’s dirty. That’s it condemnable.
“And how do you plan on saving me?” Spike asks, trying to swallow back the nerves in his throat.
Angelus grins, lips pulled back to reveal his teeth. It’s a grin that embodies evilness and deviance, one that borders on serial killer instead of man of the cloth. His palm moves swiftly over Spike’s crotch and Spike whimpers from the intense pressure.
“By showing you the wrongness of your sins,” Angelus murmurs, rotating his palm, altering and increasing the pressure against Spike’s bulging member. He can’t help but feel smug satisfaction as the boy’s sexual response kicks in, making his cock fill and harden until it’s nearly ready to burst a hole through whatever is standing in its way. The boy can’t even control his own body. “By showing you the consequences of the devil’s temptation.”
“’m not gay,” Spike murmurs, knowing that it sure as hell doesn’t look like it from the way his body is acting.
Spike attempts to still his body, willing his dick to stop twitching, to stop pulsing. He squeezes his eyes shut and softly mutters the statistics on the back of his baseball cards. But it doesn’t work. His body isn’t interested in what his brain is trying to do and it’s pissing him off.
“Try praying,” Angelus offers, as his index finger and thumb tug down Spike’s zipper and pop the button on his pants. It pleases him to see there are no further barriers. God bless the teenage boy who finds boxers and briefs restricting. Makes it so much easier to screw with them.
Spike moans when Angelus’s hand slips inside, getting a better grip on his dick. “Let’s see if God will save you from coming all over my hand.” He purses his lips, smirking. “Can’t have that now, can we? Don’t want to make a mess all over the robes of a priest? Bible tells us that’s a damning offense.”
Prayer? Shit…Spike can’t remember the last time a prayer left his lips. Or the last time he got on his knees for the Lord and quoted scripture and lines to appease him.
And praying when this pervert’s working his dick with a hard stroke and making him writhe like a whore in heat? Somehow, that seems like a first-class ticket to hell and a reserved penthouse suite in the second circle.
Though, coming in a priest’s hand probably gets him the same treatment and he’s nearly at that point from the way Angelus’s hand is twisting and manipulating his organ.
Fuck!
His hips rock forward, eagerly making their own friction. Doesn’t take long for his balls to draw up, tightening against his body, making his mind feel hazy and drugged. He can feel his own orgasm creeping up on him, ready to send him tumbling over the edge. He can almost smell the acrid smoke of hellfire in his nostrils as he finally lets himself go.
Angelus flashes Spike a wolfish grin as the boy’s spunk coats his hand and dots his robes. Marks of an eager, conflicted sinner. It’s the best part of his job. If only because it gives him a new weapon in his arsenal. Makes it easier to shame and to instill guilt.
Spike blinks, squeezing his eyes shut a little too long as the lust in his brain subsides and he realizes what just happened. Anger starts bubbling under his skin as his hands curl into fists. He just let a fucking priest get him off. The same fucking priest that had fucking kidnapped him!
Before he can lash out, he feels the Father’s hand encircle his wrist, gripping it tightly. And to add insult to injury, the bastard starts laughing.
“You’ve got a lot to learn, boy,” Angelus hisses, a dark threat in his eyes. “They say it’s a long, hard road out of hell and your journey is just getting started.”
There’s fire in Spike’s ice blue eyes as he locks onto Angelus’s dark brown ones. He’s never been one to back down from a challenge and if he’s making this trip through the burning coals, then Angelus is coming with him.
Author: snogged
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Co. own the characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I don’t.
Pairing: Father Angelus/Spike
Word Count: 1325
Rating: FRAO/NC-17; Spike is 17/18 (depending on how you'd like to think about it), adult language (sexual slurs), handjobs, non-con/dub-con, dark…AKA DIRTY!BAD!WRONG
Setting: Human AU
Summary: Father Angelus had always had an obsession for the pretty boys…and Spike is the prettiest ones he’d ever seen
Beta:
rockstarpeach and spikesredqueen. Any other mistakes are mine.A/N: a belated gift to the super sweet and awesomely talented
angelstoy A/N2: This is NOT a follow-up to “Sinner’s Hell”. I just got multiple requests from people for priest!kink. It’s clearly a new trend so of course, I seek to oblige :)
The linoleum tile squeaks beneath Spike’s combat boots as he shifts his weight, eyeing the barren wall of his room with a mixture of hatred and irritation. He knows it has only been a few hours since the young cleric led him in here but it feels more like days…weeks even.
He can’t remember the last time he saw the sun, can’t remember the smell of his mother’s perfume. Not that it matters. For all he cares, the woman can burn in a special hell for letting him rot here.
When the door creaks open, his head turns to see the coal-black cassock of the priest who abducted him. He could recognize those fucking robes anywhere. “What the hell do you want?”
Angelus smirks, leaning against the door jamb, watching the boy with fascination shimmering in his dark eyes. The boy’s feisty attitude intrigues him and it makes him all the more grateful that Spike’s parents were so easily convincible. That they’d been so quick to believe their son was a terrible sinner who needed to be set right. That they hadn’t read about his tactics and techniques with young boys or his unique obsession with corrupting and destroying the pretty ones.
And Spike is easily the prettiest boy that Principal Ethan Rayne of Sunnydale High had ever been referred to him. Rayne’s notes on him were a beautifully perverted tale of trouble and deviance that started his freshman year and has continued all the way to senior year. Mostly with the young women but there had been one instance where Spike had been caught in the boy’s locker room with his tongue down the throat of a naïve research nerd named Wesley.
“Do you know why you’re here, boy?”
Spike’s tongue darts past his lips, moistening the soft, pink flesh as his eyes “’Cause you tossed me in the back of a van? Thought it was a bloody sin to kidnap someone.”
Angelus chuckles, taking a large step into the room and closing the door behind him. “On the contrary, it was requested that you be removed from your home until the fear of God cured you of your sins.”
Spike felt jumpy. Sure, he’s lied and cursed and stuck his finger in Lilah Morgan’s cooter last week at school but did that really warrant detention in a monastery? “Seriously? I ain’t a bloody sinner. Pure as the driven snow. Just ask my mum.” He knows it’s a lie, but it can’t hurt to try. Maybe the priest will believe that load of bullshit and he can get out of this hellhole.
“I have spoken with your mum, son.” Angelus replies, taking a seat on the bed and resting his hand on Spike’s knee. Spike’s muscles tighten in response and Angelus can smell the boy’s fear drifting into his nostrils. Something about it made him want more, made him crave more. He wants Spike to be shaking with fear and anxiety by the time he’s done. “And from what I hear, you’ve done some truly sinful things. Things that would make God cringe in disgust and smite you where you stand.”
“How come he hasn’t then?” Spike says, defiance creeping into his voice.
Angelus frowns, fighting back the urge to backhand this kid and send him flying into the wall. “Because he wants you to be saved, son. Believes you can be saved.” His hand scoots up Spike’s thigh, edging closer to the apex of his jeans, inching closer to the flaccid cock trapped under the fabric.
The blond shudders, turning his head to focus on the metal frame of his cot, trying to ignore the way the priest is touching him. He knows its wrong to argue with authority but he also knows that what’s happening is wrong. That it’s dirty. That’s it condemnable.
“And how do you plan on saving me?” Spike asks, trying to swallow back the nerves in his throat.
Angelus grins, lips pulled back to reveal his teeth. It’s a grin that embodies evilness and deviance, one that borders on serial killer instead of man of the cloth. His palm moves swiftly over Spike’s crotch and Spike whimpers from the intense pressure.
“By showing you the wrongness of your sins,” Angelus murmurs, rotating his palm, altering and increasing the pressure against Spike’s bulging member. He can’t help but feel smug satisfaction as the boy’s sexual response kicks in, making his cock fill and harden until it’s nearly ready to burst a hole through whatever is standing in its way. The boy can’t even control his own body. “By showing you the consequences of the devil’s temptation.”
“’m not gay,” Spike murmurs, knowing that it sure as hell doesn’t look like it from the way his body is acting.
Spike attempts to still his body, willing his dick to stop twitching, to stop pulsing. He squeezes his eyes shut and softly mutters the statistics on the back of his baseball cards. But it doesn’t work. His body isn’t interested in what his brain is trying to do and it’s pissing him off.
“Try praying,” Angelus offers, as his index finger and thumb tug down Spike’s zipper and pop the button on his pants. It pleases him to see there are no further barriers. God bless the teenage boy who finds boxers and briefs restricting. Makes it so much easier to screw with them.
Spike moans when Angelus’s hand slips inside, getting a better grip on his dick. “Let’s see if God will save you from coming all over my hand.” He purses his lips, smirking. “Can’t have that now, can we? Don’t want to make a mess all over the robes of a priest? Bible tells us that’s a damning offense.”
Prayer? Shit…Spike can’t remember the last time a prayer left his lips. Or the last time he got on his knees for the Lord and quoted scripture and lines to appease him.
And praying when this pervert’s working his dick with a hard stroke and making him writhe like a whore in heat? Somehow, that seems like a first-class ticket to hell and a reserved penthouse suite in the second circle.
Though, coming in a priest’s hand probably gets him the same treatment and he’s nearly at that point from the way Angelus’s hand is twisting and manipulating his organ.
Fuck!
His hips rock forward, eagerly making their own friction. Doesn’t take long for his balls to draw up, tightening against his body, making his mind feel hazy and drugged. He can feel his own orgasm creeping up on him, ready to send him tumbling over the edge. He can almost smell the acrid smoke of hellfire in his nostrils as he finally lets himself go.
Angelus flashes Spike a wolfish grin as the boy’s spunk coats his hand and dots his robes. Marks of an eager, conflicted sinner. It’s the best part of his job. If only because it gives him a new weapon in his arsenal. Makes it easier to shame and to instill guilt.
Spike blinks, squeezing his eyes shut a little too long as the lust in his brain subsides and he realizes what just happened. Anger starts bubbling under his skin as his hands curl into fists. He just let a fucking priest get him off. The same fucking priest that had fucking kidnapped him!
Before he can lash out, he feels the Father’s hand encircle his wrist, gripping it tightly. And to add insult to injury, the bastard starts laughing.
“You’ve got a lot to learn, boy,” Angelus hisses, a dark threat in his eyes. “They say it’s a long, hard road out of hell and your journey is just getting started.”
There’s fire in Spike’s ice blue eyes as he locks onto Angelus’s dark brown ones. He’s never been one to back down from a challenge and if he’s making this trip through the burning coals, then Angelus is coming with him.