Damned

@pittresilience

Shane stares at Jack for a long beat, his expression flat except for the faint furrow between his brows that deepens the longer the other man talks. The monitors beep steadily beside him, and he shifts slightly against the pillows, wincing as the movement pulls at bruised ribs.

He lets the silence stretch just long enough to be uncomfortable before exhaling through his nose.

"...Truth," he says finally. His voice is low, a little rough from disuse and whatever pain meds they're pumping into him. He meets Jack's eyes with the same stubborn calm he's been wearing since they brought him in, though there's a reluctant glint of amusement buried under the exhaustion.

He lifts one shoulder in a minimal shrug. "Ask your question, then."

His tone makes it clear he's not exactly thrilled about playing games in the middle of the ER, but he's even less thrilled about the alternative—actually explaining how he ended up here.

The quiet doesn't last long. Shane's smirk appears, and Jack immediately points at him again. "See, that's exactly the kind of answer that makes me suspicious." The corner of his mouth twitches. "Normal people don't answer 'what's the dumbest thing you've ever done' with an existential crisis."

He shakes his head, leaning back slightly on the stool. "That's advanced-level bad decision making. That's not amateur hour. That's years of dedication to the craft." His tone stays dry, but there's no real judgment behind it. If anything, he sounds impressed by the commitment.

His gaze stays steady on Jack, thoughtful but still guarded. After a long pause, he speaks, voice low and a little rough.

He slid one hand lower, massaging the tense muscles of Spike’s lower back and hips, while the other stroked soothingly across his chest. The hot water and glowing sigils continued to pour gentle magic into Spike’s body, easing the surface aches while leaving the deeper, more intimate ones intact.

Patrick felt the lazy drag of Spike’s hands over his thighs and smiled, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck.

“You’re still stroking me even half-dead,” he teased gently, voice warm with affection. “Greedy thing.”

He tightened his arm around Spike’s waist, holding him more securely against his chest as the vampire’s hips floated slightly in the water. Patrick could feel the subtle shift every time Spike focused on the deeper ache inside him — the one that would linger long after the bath.

“Good,” Patrick whispered against his skin, low and intimate. “I want you to feel me every time you move tomorrow. Every time you sit. Every time you think about what I did to you.”

His fingers worked a little deeper into a tight knot in Spike’s shoulder, easing it with patient care.

“But right now,” he continued softly, “you don’t have to think about anything. Just let the water and my hands take care of the rest. Close your eyes. Drift if you want. I’ve got you.”

He still stroked at Patrick's thighs, even as he was being told he was greedy. It was in gratitude that he couldn't put into words. He knew the succubus wasn't as fond of giving than recieving, so he wanted to make up for taunting him for Spike's own needs. His fingetips brushed to gently caress Patrick's member.

The permission to not think and just be cared for released a shuddering sigh within him, he hadn't realized he'd been holding, as he felt Patrick's arm hold him firmly across his chest.

When Spike let out that deep, shuddering sigh and finally released the last of his tension, Patrick smiled against his damp hair.

“There we go,” he whispered, pressing a lingering kiss to the side of Spike’s head. “Let it all go, love. You don’t have to hold anything right now. Not tension. Not pride. Not even thoughts.”

jennifer for tate or kit

“That’s not true, Jennifer!” Tate refused to believe that, yes he loved her demonic, filthy side and he loved how she had to eat boys to survive, he didn’t judge. But he also loved the girl he knew from school, the one who would tease and flirt with him at school before he died in this hellhole. He didn’t want to lose that part of her, that part of their relationship.

“Jennifer, listen to me, you gotta snap out of it. Fight harder against whatever it is that's trying to claim you.” Tate turned and grabbed her, shaking her lightly and hoping to shake some sense into her. Stopping abruptly, a thought popping into his brain as he looked down at her and shrugged. “I have an idea. What if we kill you, in your most sane moment, we kill you in this house and then we can be together, forever.” The delusions of how easy life could be, how simple it would be to keep her soul with his own, trapped her forever instead of in Hell where both of their souls belonged.

Tate took Jennifer violently, their howls and moans reverberated through the old and empty house. Holding her down on his lap, knuckles strained as he pushed her down again, harder this time. He absolutely loved the sound she made when he penetrated her. Pushing his hips up and meeting her thrusts, pound for pound. Tate’s hands had been at her hips, clutching them for dear life before sitting up, one hand tangling into her soft, luscious brown hair while the other wrapped tightly around her neck. “Tell me how you like it, baby.” 

The hand in her hair tightened, the tips of his fingernails digging into the base of her scalp as he used this technique to hold her against him roughly. “Fuck—you feel so fucking good.” Tate leaned in, his mouth opened wide as he latched a hold of her shoulder, teeth digging into her collarbone. He could bite too, he could claw and tear his way through her flesh just as easy as she could. He was tempted to show her, but he craved her teeth against his own flesh much more. He wanted his blood, his gristle and flesh inside of her. 

The hand that held her throat, slid up a couple inches, clutching at her chin as he held it firmly, his knuckles turning white from the effort. He held her there, moving her head from side to side and showing how he had complete control over her upper form, while she still could move her bottom half easily over his cock. “You see that baby? I own you.” Tate leaned in, his mouth opening as his tongue slid out. He gently flattened it against her jawline, running it up towards her eye socket, marking his territory. “Now that I have you under my grasp.” He whispered, pulling her head and mouth down towards his shoulder and collarbone. “C’mon and bite me… You know you want to.”

All these words, images, flashed inside of his brain. The sounds coming from Jennifer were barbaric and horrendous but they only made his dick harder while inside of her. “Fuck—yes!” The sound of ripping flesh, his flesh, filled his ears as she began to devour him. Tate could feel the tension her teeth created when biting down, he could feel the drool run down his shoulder as her mouth unhinged and opened slightly wider to take him in. 

Blood ran down his back in hot, thick bands. Moving easily, Jennifer was still over him as he turned them fast. Slapping Jennifer down on her back as Tate brought his hand to her throat, holding her down the best way he thought she’d like before continuing. 

In a swift movement, they had disconnected only for a moment, as he plunged back into her with a grunt and a hard thrust. His other hand came up to grip her left thigh, pushing her leg up and at an angle, allowing him better access. The tip of his cock hitting her cervix over and over and over again in his relentless pounding. Both hands holding different parts of her body, “Cum for me, cum for daddy, you pretty little bitch.” 

In the next second, he leaned down towards her shaking form beneath him. His lips inches from her ear as he whispered, “Yes babygirl, I do fucking own you. Every fucking last part. When Daddy says cum, what does babygirl do?” His fingers tightened at each part of flesh he gripped, one hand at her throat, the other at her thigh as he pounded harder. The slaps were relentless; hot and wet, juices coated his inner thighs and balls but Tate didn’t mind. He found it so fucking sexy. With a groan, he knew he was close, the speed picking up for a third time. “Ugh! Yes!”

He shifted even closer, ignoring Beau’s crossed arms entirely, and hooked his chin over Beau’s shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He turned his head to properly look at Patrick then, eyebrow lifting as he listened, biting down briefly on his bottom lip as if holding back another comment before the smirk returned and he closed the space between them just long enough to steal a quick kiss, pulling back almost immediately with a laugh, “Can you shut the fuck up?” he asked, shaking his head, “My god. I thought that mouth was good for something but you go on, man. You rant a lot,” the teasing sharp but clearly affectionate in intent.

He turned fully toward him, one arm sliding behind Beau again — this time deliberately, fingers tracing lazy little circles against his back.“You kiss me just to tell me to shut the fuck up?” Patrick teased, voice dripping with amusement. “That’s cold, man. Here I thought my mouth was good for a lot of things. You seemed pretty into it the other night when it was busy doing something else…”He leaned in close again, lips hovering near Beau’s, eyes half-lidded and sparkling with mischief.

“And yeah, I rant. But you love it. Otherwise you wouldn’t keep letting me talk until you have to kiss me quiet.” Patrick smirked, brushing their noses together. “Go on, do it again if you want me to shut up so bad. I dare you.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, uncrossing his arms and letting them drop to his sides. His shoulders slumped just a fraction in reluctant defeat.“Fine,” he muttered, the word tasting bitter but necessary. He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding Giovanni’s gaze for a second before forcing himself to meet it again. “I’ll listen. Just… tell me what you want me to do.”

He kept his tone measured as he leaned into the conversation, watching him closely, “Do you think you can help gather information for me?” he asked first, testing the waters, then narrowing his eyes slightly as he continued, “Do you think you can come with me to a meeting?” his voice steady but intent, before adding, “Be a second pair of eyes and ears?” as if framing it as a practical necessity rather than a request.

“Yeah… I can do that,” he said, voice still carrying a trace of reluctance but no real fight left in it. “I’ll help gather whatever info you need. And I’ll go with you to the meeting.”

Patrick shifted on his feet, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “I’ll be your second pair of eyes and ears. Just… tell me the details. When, where, what I should be looking out for.”He met Giovanni’s eyes again, this time without the earlier defiance, though a faint stubborn edge still lingered in his expression. “I’m in. Just don’t leave me in the dark.”

second one was overdose. “

"I'm sorry to hear that."

I bet he's heard that a thousand times.

He said. There was a slight undertone of things that he knew that nobody could do anything to stop the slight pain he would feel even after all this time. Especially after his mother’s death.

“Is on the past.”

“Not that old, huh?” he teased softly, pulling back just enough to brush his nose against Billy’s. “Could’ve fooled me with all that silver in your beard and the way you groan when you get off the couch.” His tone was pure affection, eyes sparkling with fondness as he cupped Billy’s face with both hands, thumbs stroking over his cheeks.

He settled deeper into Billy’s lap, chest pressed close, soaking in the warmth of his arms.“I love hearing you say that,” Shane whispered, voice thick. “That I’m yours and you’re mine. Because that’s exactly what I want. All of you. The good days, the hard ones, the mornings where you’re still figuring out how to believe this is real… I want every single one of them.”

He reached for more of the scented oil, warming it between his palms before sliding his hands over Spike’s shoulders and chest, working the oil into sore, overworked muscles with slow, careful strokes. The silver sigils on his skin glowed softly beneath the water, sending gentle waves of soothing magic into Spike’s body.

When Spike let his head fall back against his shoulder and hummed that contented little sound — “Mm, warm… Feels lovely” — Patrick smiled, warm and genuine.

He slid one hand lower, massaging the tense muscles of Spike’s lower back and hips, while the other stroked soothingly across his chest. The hot water and glowing sigils continued to pour gentle magic into Spike’s body, easing the surface aches while leaving the deeper, more intimate ones intact.

Patrick felt the lazy drag of Spike’s hands over his thighs and smiled, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck.

“You’re still stroking me even half-dead,” he teased gently, voice warm with affection. “Greedy thing.”

He tightened his arm around Spike’s waist, holding him more securely against his chest as the vampire’s hips floated slightly in the water. Patrick could feel the subtle shift every time Spike focused on the deeper ache inside him — the one that would linger long after the bath.

“Good,” Patrick whispered against his skin, low and intimate. “I want you to feel me every time you move tomorrow. Every time you sit. Every time you think about what I did to you.”

His fingers worked a little deeper into a tight knot in Spike’s shoulder, easing it with patient care.

“But right now,” he continued softly, “you don’t have to think about anything. Just let the water and my hands take care of the rest. Close your eyes. Drift if you want. I’ve got you.”

Shane stared at Billy for a long moment, his chest tightening at the raw vulnerability in the older man’s voice. He reached out slowly, sliding his hand over Billy’s, gently prying one of those clenched fists open so he could lace their fingers together.“I’m not fucking with you,” he said quietly, voice steady even though his heart was hammering. “And I’m not saying it just because I figured out how you feel. I’ve known you love me for a while now, Billy. I see it every time you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention. Every time you make sure I eat, or you check the locks twice when I’m staying over, or you get that soft look on your face when I’m rambling about something stupid.”He swallowed, thumb brushing over Billy’s knuckles. “I’m saying it because it’s true. I’m in love with you. The kind of love that scares the shit out of me because I’ve never felt it this strong before. And yeah, you’re older. Yeah, you’ve got walls thicker than a goddamn fortress. But I’m not going anywhere. I’m not them. I’m not the people who left you.”

“You’re not ‘a guy like you.’ You’re the man I fell in love with. The one who makes me feel safe. The one who sees me. And yeah, I’ve got freckles and ridiculous toes,” he added with a small, warm laugh, trying to lighten the moment just a little, “but they’re yours now. All of me is.”Shane rested his forehead against Billy’s, breathing him in.

“I’m scared too, you know. This is big. But I’m not running. And you can dig your claws in as deep as you want,” he murmured, tightening his arms around him. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, old man. Deal with it.”

He crossed the room in a few quick strides and knelt beside Spike just as the vampire reached the edge of the large marble tub. Without a word, Patrick slid one arm under Spike’s knees and the other behind his back, lifting the exhausted vampire effortlessly into his arms.

“You stubborn, ridiculous creature,” he murmured fondly, pressing a kiss to Spike’s temple as he held him against his chest. “You could have just called for me. I would’ve carried you.”

Patrick carefully lowered both of them into the hot water, settling Spike between his legs so the vampire’s back rested against his chest. The steaming water enveloped them both as Patrick wrapped his arms securely around Spike’s waist, holding him close.

A low, soothing hum of the Siren Call filled the air, wrapping around Spike like a warm blanket while the silver sigils on Patrick’s skin glowed softly beneath the water, radiating gentle healing warmth into the vampire’s abused muscles.

“Easy, love,” Patrick whispered against his ear, one hand slowly stroking over Spike’s chest and stomach. “Just breathe. Let the water do its work.”

but didn't fight being lifted into the tub.

The truth was being around Angelus trained his that needing help was weakness to be made fun of. He had recently spent months in a wheelchair with a broken back, treated like an invalid and a child and he woukdn't take tat again.

As the hot water enveloped him, he let out a deep sigh of relief. The painful moves has been worth it, was Patrick settled him against his chest. The foggy magical warmth hummed through him and his body dropped and eased.

Spike let his head fall back as fingers and oil were worked into his skin and muscles.

He reached for more of the scented oil, warming it between his palms before sliding his hands over Spike’s shoulders and chest, working the oil into sore, overworked muscles with slow, careful strokes. The silver sigils on his skin glowed softly beneath the water, sending gentle waves of soothing magic into Spike’s body.

When Spike let his head fall back against his shoulder and hummed that contented little sound — “Mm, warm… Feels lovely” — Patrick smiled, warm and genuine.

He swallowed, eyes never leaving Ilya’s.

“I’ve loved you since that summer too. Since the first time you looked at me like I was something worth fighting for. And yeah… I want it. All of it. The forever. The ring. The little Hollander-Rozanovs causing chaos someday.” A small, shaky smile tugged at his mouth. “I want to build a life with you. I want to stop hiding.”

He needed Shane to realize this.

He gripped the back of Shane's head as he rested their foreheads together.

“You’re insane,” he murmured fondly, pulling back just enough to look into those intense eyes. “Hiring a skywriter? Instagram video? You really would burn the whole world down for us, wouldn’t you?”

He brushed his thumb along Ilya’s jaw, savoring the stubble, the solid reality of him.

“I don’t need the clouds or a press conference tomorrow. I just need you.” Shane’s voice dropped, warm and sure. “But yeah… Pride in New York sounds right. It feels right. We show up together. Hold hands. Let them see us. Let Scott Hunter do his thing on that float while we’re just… us, out in the open for once.”

He swallowed, a flicker of nerves crossing his face, but he didn’t look away.

“I’m still going to be scared shitless when the headlines hit. But I want this. I want to walk beside you. I want to stop pretending you’re just my rival, just my friend, just anything less than the man I’m going to spend the rest of my life with.”

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