Date: Fri, 21 Apr 2000 06:25:39 EDT From: angelslovechild@aol.com Subject: Challenge FIC: Down with Doyle *PWP* N-17 Title: (PWP)Down with Doyle * It's A.M. I can't think of a title at all. Any suggestions would make me happy.* Parts: 1/1 Author: Lisa Email: Angelslovechild@aol.com Distribution: Take it. Do what you want. I did it because I'm trying to make myself do one a day. Maybe I'll get better through persistence, if nothing else. This is not been looked over by anyone but me, so, any mistakes are mine. Again, I hope to get better. Disclaimer: None of it's mine, but don't I wish it was. Rating: N-17 Spoilers: Nothing will be spoiled. * It happens during Angel's show. Containing Doyle/Angel * Feedback: that would be nice. I never write Doyle very much (only in RPG form, so far), but this is my go at it in fic form. Yes, I'm sure my *accent* sucks. Luckily, that is not the main thrust of this tale. *G* Dedicated to: to anyone who writes and just wishes they could be as good as all the ones they really admire. Writing quote: "Truly great writing is *universal*. It touches everyone, regardless of race, sex or gender. It makes an impression and it lives on through the challenges of time. Unfortunately for me... I'm still on the *front porch*" Notes/Summery: it's the challenge from Charles, thus noted: Challenge #13- (Contributed by Skif)- P.W.P where someone masturbates for Angel's pleasure, from Angel's P.O.V. "Oh... Oh God. Oh... OH God" I sit there, transfixed by what I see. The room is dark, and the flickering of the TV is the only thing there is to keep me company... and what company that is. "Fuck me hard." Oh God, how I love porn. I would never let Buffy know that, of course, but how else can I get off and not achieve that perfect happiness that everyone was always so worried about? Letting out a gasp of pleasure, I put my hand around my very hard cock, stroking it in time to the actors on my TV. "Faster...Harder...!" Two men. Another surprise, I'm sure. The sight of a well muscled ass, his own hard prick pushing roughly into the hole of another man. God, it makes me so close to cumming, I can taste it. "Hey, Angel, man. You down there?" Doyle? Damn it! I jump up, looking about wildly for the remote. "oh God!" He's coming, and where the hell is the damned remote? No good. I run over to the TV, to turn it off manually, hearing his slurred calling. Drunk. Doyle is drunk and concern tries to poke through my frustration at losing my chance to let off some tension. "Angel? Come on man. You know I told you about this mopin' thing. It's not 'ealthy." My finger is on the off button, but I know, before I can push it down, Doyle is behind me. "Fuck me now" The one man yells out in lusty need. My thoughts, exactly. I turn then, one hand over my embarrassment, my other hand remembering that it was turning off the TV. The two disappear, going into that little dot they live in, when the TV isn't on. "Doyle. You're back. Good. I was just..." What the hell am I going to say? "This isn't what it looks like, really." The sight of him there. Green piercing eyes, black ruffled hair. I'm covering myself for more than just modesty. Doyle blinks as me, and then a smile spread out on his completely drunken expression. "really? What does it look like? Eh? Just a little self gratification? Sure, that's what it looks like." He makes a tsking sound, swaggering over to me, smelling of smoke and liquor. I want to take that smell in, and wrap it around myself like a warm blanket. Comfort. "I'm glad I'm back too. Guess you don't just mope down 'ere." He giggles, moving another step closer and I mirror his action, in the opposite direction. "You think Cordy would like to see what you're doing down here? Careful boyo. Complete 'appiness could be just a stroke away" "What?" I stammer, stepping back again. This is not good, and then he is stripping, and the confusion must be showing on my face because he stops for just a moment to give me a smile. "'ere now Angel. Just take it easy. I won't tell" He touches me, lightly, before withdrawing to continuing his disrobing. "What are you doing?" A stupid question, almost, if it weren't so easily obvious. "Doyle?" The Irishman only pulls at his pants, dragging them down his legs and revealing the monster hard on that he is sporting. "Don't worry Angel. I'm 'ere for ye." He is looking up at me now, green beautiful eyes, gazing into what must be a darkened expression. God, he turns me on, and not because he is half naked now. I can smell his mixed blood, and it simply turns me on. Intoxication, knocking my senses away, making me grasp for the first words that will come out of my mouth. "You're drunk Doyle" I state the obvious, even as his hand comes up and pushed me back onto the bed behind me. I fall, landing as he presses the advantages and pushes his body onto mine. "sssshhhh." Oh God. Doyle, sitting on my lap, his hard organ sliding down to rub against my own. My hands fight, wanting to grab him and forcefully turn him over... to just fuck him and get it over with. "Doyle" My voice comes out harsh, gravely and lustful. Doyle sighs, his hot breath brushing over my face, before he abruptly falls sideways, rolling onto his back on the bed, beside me. "I had a vision" His hand is on his shaft, stroking slowly. "It was a bad one. Me and you" He arches his back, his face showing his pleasure as my body reacts to it as well. He smiles at me, and I imagine I can see something dark and inviting in the expression. Calling for me to follow, demanding that I do the same as he. "A vision?" But Doyle has closed his eyes now, and he is getting deeper into the action, whispering softly someone's name. My name. "What did you see Doyle? What about us?" Oh God. He's still doing it, his mouth contorting into the shape of a bowed rubber-band, eyebrows drawn together in concentration. My own hand finds it's way to my shaft and I hold it as I watch him. "what did you see?" Doyle's breath, coming so fast. It brings out a guttural sound from the bottom of my soul. "Doyle" I pant desperately, trying to see past the haze that has become my vision. "Please" Oh my God. "Please Doyle" I don't even know what I am asking for anymore, only that I am jerking my hand over my painful hard organ, and have been doing it for half a minute at least. I'm going to cum and my rhythm matches his so completely, we could be one being. "Angel" My name comes from him in a strangled cry as the smell of his hot seed sharply registers on my senses. A split second later, my own cool seed, as I arch while still sitting down. I let out a moan of pleasure, calling out his name, pleading for an answer to what he has done to me. "Doyle?" Oh God. what has he done to me? I don't think that I can move. Wasn't there some kind of a vision? Eyes opened by mere slits, his gaze slides my way, looking me over as Doyle lets out a shuddering release of air. "Was it good for you too?" He chuckles, his eyes falling firmly closed and leaving me to stare. "Doyle?" Asleep. I touch his shoulder with one hand. Nothing. Completely asleep. The vision will have to wait. Getting up, I can smell him, blood, sweat and spent semen. What does this mean? Hell if I know. Tiredly, I grab a barely wet towel and wipe him off, and then myself I put his pants back onto his completely limp body, marveling at the fact that he never so much as stirs. The little cloth I used to clean us off... it makes me excited all over again, just to smell it. What did he do to me? Nothing. It is only my imagination. "Good night Doyle. You can tell me about the vision tomorrow." I look down at the sleeping half demon, wondering if he will remember this in the morning, and finding I have no doubt. By the time he gets up, anything I tell him about being here will be accepted without question. "Sleep well." Except for the vision... He never forgets a vision. Vague as they might be, he never forgets. "I'll see you in the morning." Grabbing my underpants up, I move to the other room, finding the small couch that I used to sleep on when Cordelia comes over or something like this happens. On the way, I throw the rag into the waste basket, vowing to throw it out tomorrow. Everything will be taken care of, tomorrow. Settling down into my displaced resting place, I close my eyes, waiting for sleep to come. Sleep, deep and almost peaceful. I fall into it... and I dream of Doyle. ~THE END~ This page hosted by Get your own FREE Home Page