TITLE: Hungry
AUTHOR: Random
E-MAIL: kemarx@swbell.net
DISCLAIMER: A long time ago, in a city far, far away called Hollywood,
there was an insane man who answered to the name Joss Whedon. He and his
consort, David Greenwalt, crafted and model characters to be used as their
personal play things. These characters, so distraught over thier neglect at
the hands of the insane man and his consort, ran away and became muses for
other insane people. These new insane people, insane by default, as there's
no other way to explain writing down what the voices tell you to, made no
claims to the characters, but the characters didn't care, and the owners
looked the other way as long as no profit was made, and everything was happy
with the world. Except with the lawyers, who are never happy.
THANKS: For Charles, the Super-Beta. Get a cape, man. You need one.

--

Hungry, by Random

The remodeled hotel stood alone on the vacant block like an L.A. version of
Stately Wayne Manor. It might as well have had a flashing neon sign
announcing 'Superhero Lair Here!' He needed a hero, someone to make the
pain stop, to sate the thirst and hunger that knawed at his insides. Oz
needed help. He needed Angel.

He stood in the doorway for a moment before entering, letting his eyes
adjust to the harsh, bright lights. Cordelia and Wesley were bickering
good-naturedly, sparing back and forth with verbal blows in a show of love
and affection, so it was Angel who noticed him first.

The vampire looked up from the book he was reading, his jaw agape when he
saw the werewolf. Oz had let his hair grow some, so it curled around his
face softly instead of sticking up all over. Instead of softening his
features, it made him look painfully thin. His loose shirt hung limply and
his black vinyl pants rested low on his lean hips. He was pale, but he had
a healthy glow in his face. His eyes, though, were dark and feral
and...dangerous.

"Hey," he said after a moment, after making observations of his own. Angel
looked happier, less broody, even to the point of wearing a non-black shirt.
Sure, it was a gray pullover, but it didn't have any of the characteristic
gothic mystique he'd come to expect from the vampire.

Cordelia turned suddenly, her jaw dropping to the floor. She quickly
recovered, and happily exclaimed, "Oz! Oh, my God, Oz!" Even Wesley beamed
at him.

Angel stood up slowly, placing his palms flat on the desk. "Guys," he said
softly, never breaking eye contact with Oz. Wesley and Cordelia turned and
looked at him, puzzled.

It was Oz who spoke next. "I need...."

"Yes," Angel nodded. One simple word, it was acknowledgment, affirmation,
acceptance, aqueisence.

"What--?" Cordelia scowled at Angel, her lips curling into a confused
pout..

"Cordelia," Wesley, ever the astute observer, said softly. "I think we
should go home."

"Sure, whatever." Gathering her things in a huff, Cordelia sighed as she
stormed out. Wesley followed silently, giving Oz a friendly smile as he
passed.

Alone in the huge hotel, the two creatures stared at each other for a full
minute. Slowly, Oz stepped fully into the lobby as Angel came around from
the other side of his desk. Meeting half way, Oz reached up to trace the
planes of Angel's face with shaky hands.

"When?" Angel asked quietly.

"Last week," Oz breathed, the hurricane in his green eyes breaking down to a
tropical storm. "I need..." he pleaded, unable to find the words in his
distress.

"I know." Angel cupped Oz's cheek with his broad hand, stroking the
werewolf's lips with his thumb. "How...?"

"I...." Oz closed his eyes and leaned into Angel's hand. "I'm so lost. I
need an alpha. I'm...too weak. Too alone."

Angel leaned down and kissed Oz softly. The werewolf's arms snaked up
Angel's shoulders, and the kiss deepened. Oz sighed softly, fisting his
hands in Angel's soft hair. Angel's hands slid down Oz's flank and finally
rested on his hips.

Angel feasted on Oz's mouth. Kissing Oz was like eating venison instead of
beef. The flavor was familiar, but there was something more, something
wild, something different. Angel wanted more. The vampire trailed kisses
down Oz's jaw and throat, nipping lightly at his earlobe and laved the
werewolf's jugular with a languid swipe of his tongue.

Oz groaned in response, baring more of his throat instinctively. "Angel,"
he panted, tugging gently at the vampire's hair. "The lights, please...."

Angel pulled away reluctantly and stared down at Oz. "Upstairs would be
better."

He dragged Oz hastily up the stairs and down the hall to his personal suite.
Angel tossed the werewolf unceremoniously onto the bed, and he pulled his
sweater over his head. Oz followed suit, kicking off his boots and throwing
his tee away carelessly. Bruises and fresh, angry scars etched a
frightening pattern across Oz's lean chest, and Angel's eyes widened with
concern.

"They're old," Oz reassured him. He looked down at his hands resting in his
lap. "My fault."

"They beat you?" Angel asked softly, kneeling between Oz's legs. Oz didn't
respond. "I won't hurt you."

"No," Oz sighed, meeting Angel's eyes. "I knew you wouldn't. I don't need
bondage, I need dominance."

Angel pressed a gentle hand to Oz's chest, pushing the werewolf down on the
bed. He quickly slid Oz's pants down the smaller man's legs, flinging them
into a corner. Oz was hard, his erection laying flat against his stomach
and he shivered in anticipation.

Angel licked along the vein in his thigh, working the downy hair of the
werewolf's leg with his tongue until he reached the crease between thigh and
hip. The vampire sucked at the skin there, working the flesh between his
lips. Oz groaned softly, and Angel moved to the other side, whisking his
chin over Oz's penis lightly on the way.

When a matching red welt formed, Angel kissed the base of Oz's penis
lightly, licking up the shaft in one broad stroke. Oz shuddered, grabbing
the duvet in lightly clenched fists. Angel moved lower, tonguing Oz's
scrotum, sucking one testicle then the other into his mouth. Another moan
from Oz. Angel's fingers tangled in the red curls at Oz's pelvis, wrapping
his thumb and forefinger around the base of Oz's shaft. The vampire moved
lower, licking and nipping at the spot between Oz's balls and the pucker of
his ass.

"Angel," Oz rasped. "Fuck me. Please, please fuck me."

Angel finished divesting himself, shucking off his pants and shoes in one
quick motion. He reached up between the mattress, feeling for the lube he
kept there and returned with a tube of Astroglide. Oz rolled to his
stomach, drawing his knees up to his chest and pressing his forehead into
one of Angel's brocaded pillows.

Angel slid a slick finger inside of Oz, preparing the smaller man. The
vampire took his time, letting the velvet warmth of Oz's body seep into him
as he pushed and stroked the werewolf's prostate.

"Please," Oz begged, bucking his hips back on Angel's finger.

With more lube coating his own cock, Angel pushed against Oz's entrance. Oz
grunted softly, thrusting back against Angel, who slid in and out of Oz with
ease. It was searing and hot and sweat formed on Angel's skin, dripping
slowly down his neck in thin rivulets that gathered on his chest. Angel
drove faster and faster into Oz, grinding his hips against the smaller man's
ass and digging fingers into Oz's hip and shoulder. He eased his grip when
Oz yelled out, stilling all action.

"No!" Oz screamed, his voice panicked and urgent. "Please, Angel, harder,"
he sobbed.

Angel complied, resuming a furious pace, his own pleasure mounting as his
mind numbed and coherent thought evaporated. All that mattered was the
breathing, sweating body so hot under him. He felt Oz's body tense as the
werewolf came, and Angel continued his dizzying pace.

Too soon, his own pleasure peaked, and Angel howled silently as he buried
himself as deep in the quivering heat as he could. Sated and sweating,
Angel pulled away and Oz inched over to curl on his side.

Oz looked at Angel gratefully, tears staining his pale cheeks. "Thanks," he
whispered, curling his arms around his torso, shivering slightly in the air
conditioned room. He'd been homeless and hungry for a week, and he cursed
himself for being a junkie. Addicted to the attention his pack gave him.
Despite the requisite abuse, the pack loved him. They took him in as only
family can after he left Sunnydale for the last time. And now, now they
were gone, and he was addicted. To sex. To pain. To love. He watched
Angel with frightened eyes. Angel helped abate the hunger, but he couldn't
stay here forever.

Angel crouched next to him, wiping the tears away gently. "Here," he said,
pulling the covers back to drape over Oz's shoulders and climbed into bed
beside him. Wrapping strong arms around the lean body, Angel held Oz close.
As if hearing Oz's thoughts, he kissed the top of the werewolf's head and
whispered, "Stay as long as you need. Stay as long as you're hungry."

End.