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Ritual Justice

Laws Were Meant To Be Written In Blood

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Laws Should Always Be Written In Blood
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Spike drank for what felt like ages, cock aching as the circle of blood kept him riding on wave after wave of pleasure, the body under his slowly going limp under him.

Left just enough to keep the guy barely conscious for a moment more, taking his wrist away to lick the wounds closed. Made a annoyed sound at himself as he realized that he'd have to dress the man as dead weight, but there was no way he'd get away with carting a naked body through the streets to Angel's doorstep.

Leaned up, cleaning the blood of that gorgeous mouth, mourning the rapid loss of heat that he'd stolen. So hot. So blazing. Such a shame a fiery man like this had gotten caught in the crossfire of vampire fueds.

"Sleep. Gonna take you back now." He sat up, tucking himself back into his pants as he gathered up the young man's clothes and started working them on heavy limbs. Hefted him over one shoulder as he headed out, following the path he'd taken the man on until it led him to Angel's office door.

He left the boy drifting away in the elevator down to his sire's apartment, running the car down the shaft as he dug out a cigarette. Wouldn't do for the boy to burst into flame and all the fun of Angel's pain gets forgotten.

Strode out of the offices as he lit his cigarette, letting the cool air invigorate him after a good feeding and the charge of a kill. Wish he could see the bastard's face when the guy woke up.

Funny. He still didn't know his name.

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