Fandom: Angel (tv)
Characters: Angel/Spike
Summary/Teaser: Christmastime at Wolfram and Hart is always... interesting.
Warnings: explicit sex between adult males
Spoilers: general Angel S5, specifically "Destiny" (Angel 5.08)
Notes: Inspired inspired by the flashbacks in "Destiny" (Angel 5.08) and finally written as a Christmas present for Allie.
Word Count: 2343

Standard Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and co. own the characters, I'm just playing with them. I do, however, own this story, so don’t steal it. Archive it anywhere; just ask first.

Feedback is always appreciated. Make me blush with praise or rip apart the story with criticism, or both.

(Thanks to these sites and carpdeus for information about Saturnalia.)

by Elizabeth Scripturient


"Drusilla wants to watch, doesn't she?" Angelus leers at her.

She laughs. "Daddy always likes the blonde ones."

William glances between the two of them with a mixture of confusion and terror on his face.

"Come on boy, take off your clothes."

William knows he doesn't have any choice, doesn't stop to wonder what would happen to him if he doesn't oblige. He takes everything off, quickly, hoping vampires don't blush.

Angelus looks at him appraisingly. He catches the small cock in his hand and begins to rub it as he leans down and takes William's mouth with his own.

William is soon gasping. Angelus has made him so hard so fast. He is kissing him back now with ferocity almost equal to Angelus', silently begging for release.

Angelus takes William's hands in his own, moves them onto his own body. William moans. He has never felt a man's body before, and this one is so hard. Soon Angelus' shirts are gone. He moves William's hands down into his pants, and William gasps in surprise. So big.

"Make me hard, boy," Angelus hisses, breaking the kiss for the first time. He pushes William to his knees and unfastens his pants.

William is still recovering from the nonstop kissing and Angelus thrusts his cock into his face, into his mouth. William has no idea what he's doing. He is sucking this big hard thing. He realizes that his hands are free and he starts to massage himself, to bring himself release. Angelus growls, tears away, throws William onto the bed and removes the rest of his clothes. "You don't get to come yet. I decide that. First you make me come." William is face down and his hands are above his head and Angelus is on top of him, pressing down on him. Rutting him, deep and hard.

He'll make a man out of this bloody poet yet. The girls were good, heavens knew he loved girls, but there was something so satisfying about men. The hardness of their bodies against his. The resistance their bodies gave when he entered them.

Spike is aching on the bed.

Good god this is so fucking good. He can't pretend this is Drusilla, not at all. This is something wholly new, and oh he likes it. With Drusilla their bodies are like equals and he is on top, thrusting into her, tasting blood on her lips. Now he is the one on the bottom, so small, enveloped by this hard dark man. And oh it feels so good.

Angelus' hands are all over William's body, and one hand slips into his mouth. Fingers thrust roughly in, more like. William's jaw clamps down, reflexively. He draws blood. He is sucking now and Angelus encourages him. Fucking him harder now. William's ass is burning and he's sucking as if somehow he can make the pain go away that way. It's a good pain, though, and he doesn't entirely want it to stop. Angelus shudders and relaxes. He withdraws both his cock and his finger. He rolls William over, William who looks something like a stunned animal -- which, really, is what he is. Angelus massages William’s hard cock, smiles as he watches William shudder and come.

Angelus is on top of him now. Face to face. They are kissing again.

"Not half bad, poet," Angelus whispers.

Drusilla claps, her laughter like the tinkling of bells.

"My boys are so pretty together."

William looks terrified again. "Dru!" He has just let a man fuck his brains out in front of the love of his life.

Angelus looks angry again. "Worried you look bad in front of your lady? Believe me, you didn't need me for that. And she doesn't care two figs either way. Still such a strait-laced prig. You're goin' ta have a terribly long eternity."

Drusilla is grinning again. She holds out her arms, singing. "Kiss me once then kiss me twice then kiss me once again." Angelus bounds over to her and locks his lips on hers. William feels very very small. He wants Dru to want him, to want him more than she wants Angelus. She is his destiny. Doesn't matter if Angelus is right or not that no one owns anyone. They belong together. And yet, he finds himself wanting Angelus. Not just because the sex is good, but because he wants to prove himself to Angelus, wants to be good enough for him.


Fred looked disgusted. "I can't believe Wolfram and Hart is having a blood orgy for Saturnalia."

"Hey, that's that Roman holiday where servants and masters switch places, right?" Spike asked.

"Yeah," Fred said distractedly. "Saturn was the ancient Roman god of harvest, of agriculture more generally, and by corollary, of fertility. He ruled during the time of Chaos, was deposed by Jupiter, and then ruled on earth with Janus. The Romans marked the winter solstice with a celebration in his honor: Saturnalia. Actually, tradition states that Janus instituted Saturnalia as a tribute to Saturn after his departure from Earth, returning the world to the way it was when he reigned – chaos. The weeklong celebration was a time of excess, with feasting and gift-giving and lavish decorations – not all that unlike the modern celebrations of Christmas I suppose, which makes sense, as the Christians have throughout history appropriated celebrations and traditions native to the people they came in contact with and overlaid it with Christian symbolism so as to ease conversion. Anyway, the week of Saturnalia was a week of excess and chaos. Masters and slaves switched places. Children ran households. Grudges were dropped, wars put on hold. Businesses shut down. The streets were full of cross-dressing and other masquerades. They even crowned a mock king, Saturnalia Princeps, The Lord of Misrule. As Roman civilization degenerated, the celebrations grew more and more debauched."

Spike looked at Angel suggestively behind Fred's back, but Angel pretended not to notice.

Fred threw up her hands in exasperation, throwing down the sheaf of papers her nose had been buried in. "And where is Charles? I've been trying to track down the exact paperwork surrounding this event to see if it's at all possible to call it off without angering too many people who have the power to kill and/or bankrupt us. That, mind you, is his department. I'm supposed to be in the lab."

"But if you stay in the lab all the time, we never get to see your sweet face." Gunn's words were as smooth as his stride as he walked in the door.

Fred spun around in anger. "Charles Gunn. Where have you been?"

"Doing what you asked me to, oddly enough. Saturnalia seems to be intricately linked to the very beginnings of Wolfram and Hart. Something about turning things upside down for one day a year solidifies the order for the rest of the year. Well that's the mystical Wolfram and Hart thing anyway. Not sure exactly which dimension started the custom – Wolfram and Hart obviously predating the Roman Saturnalia. Not that it really matters, as we're concerned with here and now, not Pylea or anything."

"What's this I hear about my homeland? Not planning a return visit, are we, compadres?" Lorne came in from the hallway, and his voice was light, but everyone present, except Spike, knew the anxiety that underlay the thought.

"Nothing of the sort, my man," Gunn replied easily. "Just discussing the history of this here multi-dimensional law firm."

"A fun-filled romp through slaughter and corruption, I'm sure."

"Right you are."

"Okay, so let's get down to business." Fred's voice was stern. "Charles, how much wiggle room do we have with this whole blood orgy thing?"

“Not much, I'm afraid. The Saturnalia Princeps manifests at every winter solstice, demands a tribute of sorts.”

"Wait, but the lady just said the Saturnalia Whatshisname was a mock king,"Spike interrupted.

"The crowning of a mock king was part of an homage to the true Lord of Chaos," Wesley answered.

“Right you are, my man. And as part of its founding contract, Wolfram and Hart has a similar deal going on.”

"One of you gets to run Wolfram and Hart for a day?" Angel looked like he was torn between being relieved and offended by the idea.

Gunn shifted uncomfortably, biting back a smile. "Not exactly. On the night of the Saturnalia, the CEO of Wolfram and Hart must engage in submissive sexual activity with an inferior."

"Ooh, can I volunteer for that. I mean, not that I'm saying I'm inferior, of course. I'm just 'an' inferior, since you call all the shots in this big ole place and I, well, don't." Spike grinned wickedly.

Angel shot him a withering look. "Why can't it be torture?" Angel asked plaintively, "I've done that before."

"No, mate, I get to fuck you." Spike's eyes gleamed. "It'll be much more fun than torture.”

"There's a ceremony in which you,” Gunn looked at Angel, "inform the Princeps of your choice of a partner. Wes can go over that with you as he's the expert. He can also go over everything you'll have to do the night of the Saturnalia -- preparing the room in which the act is going to be performed, invoking the Princeps, etcetera."

Angel sighed resignedly.

"Do we still have to have the blood orgy?" Fred asked.

Gunn nodded. "Yeah. No one is required to participate in it, so we all get to go home -- well, most of us anyway." He fought back a smile. "But there does have to be a chaos of sex going on in the building at the same time as the ritual, um, act. The 'blood' refers to the slaughter of live animals and the consumption of their blood. Wolfram and Hart already has the appropriate containers in a warehouse, and it's simple paperwork to order the animals. Given that it happens every year, it's pretty rote to order all of the food and wine and send out the all-office memo and everything. I can just give that to Harmony."

Angel sighed.


On the afternoon of the Saturnalia, Angel, Spike, and Wesley were all in an empty room at the end of the hall on the top floor of Wolfram and Hart.

"Well, I'll begin with the basic outline of the ritual." Wesley brought out four jars of red clay from the large bag he had brought in. "These will be placed in the four corners of the room, which correspond to the four cardinal directions. After the sun sets, you perform the invocation. This will bring the Saturnalia Princeps into your bodies. During the course of the night, each of you will dispel blood and ejaculatory fluid into one of the jars -- that is, Spike's blood in one jar, Angel's blood in one jar, and so on. They will actually be labeled during the preparatory ritual. Once each jar contains liquid, the Princeps will disperse from your bodies and the ritual will be over. Oh, and for the entirety of the time between the opening invocation and the ritual dispersal, Angel must obey every command given by Spike. Also, neither of you is allowed to leave the room, that is, to cross the boundaries formed by the connections between the four jars."

Angel looked worried. "I know it's a bit late to be asking, but what happens if I don't take part in this ritual."

"The Saturnalia Princeps will descend in a rage, thrusting every member of the firm into an abysmal chaos. The texts are rather unclear, but the implication seems to be that every molecule of your body will be thrown into chaos. And there's something about owning your souls, and an implication that you retain consciousness while you suffer."

"Ah, well then, just wondering."

"The invocation is, here." Wesley brought out a large tome and laid it open to a particular page. "You two need to be, unclothed and joining hands, while you recite the invocation. And then you just, do your thing. Just be sure not to disrupt the boundaries formed by the four jars. And you must finish the ritual by sunrise, or the Princeps will take up permanent residence in your minds as well as your bodies."


The sun had fallen all the way below the horizon and Spike and Angel stood, facing each other, in the middle of the room.

"Well, I suppose we'd best get started then." Spike shrugged off his duster.

Soon they were both nude, and they sat awkwardly on the floor, side by side, the book open in front of them. They joined hands and began to read.

"On this, the night of chaos, we invoke you, Saturnalia Princeps. By the essences to be contained in the four vessels of your servants, we invoke you. The blood of the superior. The blood of the inferior. The fluid of the superior. The fluid of the inferior. We invite you into our bodies, to share in this role reversal as we honor you tonight."

They let go of each other's hands.

"You reckon it worked? I don't feel any different."

Angel pointed to the wall they were facing. A thin glowing line connected the jars at each end of the wall. Above each jar, in faintly glowing but very legible letters, were the phrases they had chanted.

"Huh, fancy that. Well, Head Boy did say the jars were gonna be labeled. So, let's get started then."


Spike shrugged on his duster as he followed Angel, who had put his clothes back on with some kind of record speed, out the door. "Shame I didn't think to bring some equipment. I could have some fun torturing you. That is what you wanted, isn't it? Some spanking, some whipping."

Angel glared at him.

"Next time, right then."

"What makes you think there’ll be a next time."

"What, you think you can negotiate with the Lord of Chaos? Or are you just planning on being in a new line of work?"

"I'm just saying you're not the only boy who wants to fuck me."

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