By Shakespeare's Girl
A/N: For The Challenge. Gratuitous use of a prompt to write porn. Which is kinda the point, I guess. Albeit, short porn, as opposed to lengthy porn, where more than one person gets his end away. But I haven't been in a lengthy mood of late. Hence, short porn.
Angel jerked and twisted in the darkness as he tried to place the noises that surrounded him. It was funny how you never realized how noisy a room was until you couldn't see it.
"Hello?" Angel called, twisting around toward a noise that had sounded like footsteps. No one answered.
He was helpless. Blindfolded, led around in so many circles he was dizzy, then left to sit on a hard, wooden chair while someone unseen peeled away his clothes and whispered to him not to move a muscle, not to breathe, not to get hard. Then he'd been led somewhere else--naked, cold, and embarrassingly aroused, despite his orders to the contrary. He'd been left splayed over a metal table.
Angel shivered. The cold was making him stiff. The blindfold itched, but he didn't dare take it off, even though his hands were free. Something clicked on nearby--a space heater, Angel though--and someone stepped closer. Which meant they'd been there the whole time.
A hand--cool enough to identify it as vampiric--slid slowly up and down his thigh. "Stay still," a voice commanded, and Angel knew that voice, but before he could place it, a hand closed around his cock--still hard from the strip-tease he'd forcibly performed.
At first the hand was slow and tight, making sure Angel wasn't going to move. Then faster and faster, harder and harder, tighter and tighter, until nails were digging into his cock and scraping off skin, pain and pleasure mingling and swirling, getting all confused until they melted together and became the same.
More fingernails yanked and pinched at one nipple, and before he could stop himself, Angel cried out, arched up, back tensed as he came.
He crashed back down to earth--and the hard, metal table--as soon as the orgasm was over, shaking and more than a little nervous.
"There now, love," the voice came again, and Angel relaxed into the memory of the face that went with it. "Told you. 'S'all about trust."
"Spike," Angel breathed.
And the blindfold was lifted away.