Contradiction
Contradiction
By FemailoftheSpecies
cafedemonde@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: Joss owns The Fanged Four not I. As if there was some confusion about this.
Distro: WWOMB, Mystifying Dreams, Indulgences, My Live Journal, Writings of the Femail. Want...ask and you shall receive.
Angelus/Darla
R (for one word and imagery)
Summary: Every relationship has its twists.
Spoilers: pre-canon so nothing really
A/N: Not a continuation of Butterfly Under Glass, but it takes place about two weeks later.
This was written in response to a challenge from lilbreck’s I-Will-Work-For-Fic Challenge.
Thanks to jennillu for the beta and good conversation.
Feedback whore here! Be my trick.
~~~~*~~~~
Smothering.
It was how he would best describe her.
He drowned in her attentions, asphyxiated by a maddeningly obsessive need that was ingrained in every cell of his demonic being.
He belonged to her.
That she allowed him to posture and crow like a rooster in heat, the supposed head of their demonically dysfunctional family, was appreciated. Vampires were a patriarchial species, generally. Other clans were more prone to attempt an attack when a female ruled. His sire saw the value in the illusion and gladly gave up the daily running of their lair to him. Beneath it all, he understood his place and readily took it behind closed doors.
Darla lowered her tiny frame to sitting in her favorite chaise lounge and ran a gloved hand over the gleaming wood, most likely in search of dust.
“The boy is unstable, Angelus. He won’t be controlled.” She said this with a conviction summoned from experience.
“I’ve beaten him bloody and broken, Darla,” he replied with a sigh. “He either glares at me in human face the entire time or makes promises of behaving that we both know he can’t keep,” Angelus shook his head, frustrated with the situation and tired of arguing, and knelt in front of her to assist in unlacing her boots. “But he’s a strong one with a will of iron and as inconvenient as his activities are, maybe Drusilla is onto something.”
His sire rolled her eyes at the mention of his second childe. Penn she tolerated, primarily because he was male and not a threat to her position in his heart, but this Drusilla was a different matter entirely.
The girl had been a game for her, fun sport. One so close to God always represented a challenge, and she convinced Angelus to rise to the occasion and snatch the girl from the clutches of Christ. And he did so with a feral pleasure none outside their race would understand.
All was perfect until that night. The plan had been to finally slaughter the girl and feast on her blood, seasoned with fear, misery and newfound insanity. But her boy surprised her with a plan of his own and turned the girl, making her a childe no less, giving her enough of his blood to ensure tremendous physical strength upon rising.
Twenty years had passed and he was still taken with the creature. The way he indulged her every whim, and there were plenty, sickened Darla.
William was just the latest of those indulgences.
“Drusilla’s insane, Angelus, or have you forgotten?”
He smiled, peeking up at her through his lashes in that way that told her that he either wanted sex or intended to manipulate her.
“Of course I remember. I think she’s the finest thing I’ve created.”
He was done with her lacings and removed her boots slowly, massaging each foot for a few seconds as it was freed from the confines. She let her eyes close, to enjoy the stimulation and retreat from his gaze, equally.
“But her visions usually come to pass,” he continued, “and she swears he’ll be great, a master.”
Her laughter rang in the air, and for all its ugly intent, he still found it beautiful.
“He’ll be lucky if he can master his own cock. At least she’s got a handle on him in that regard.”
He had not risen from his place by her feet. She leaned over, ignoring the tightness of her corset, took his face in her hands that were now free of the gloves.
“You take over siring him. His antics entertain Drusilla, which encourages him. It’s a cycle, Angelus. Break it.”
He glanced away, lost in thought. Stepping in and ruling over the boy would anger Drusilla; she was his rightful sire and had been doing a fair job of it, with his occasional intervention.
Darla’s sigh disrupted his musings.
“It’s this or the stake for him. You choose.” He nodded in acceptance of her terms. His childe was too attached to William to do anything else. Later he needed to check and make certain his stones still hung low.
With that she got up and prepared for bed, turning back to him to add, “And if that boy calls me a bloody bitch one more time, I'll bathe him in holy water.”
She was the death of him, his life and unlife, his Heaven and Hell. His contradiction. And if she murdered him a little each day, buried him in her blood and passion, well that was just fine.
~~~~*~~~~
end
By FemailoftheSpecies
cafedemonde@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: Joss owns The Fanged Four not I. As if there was some confusion about this.
Distro: WWOMB, Mystifying Dreams, Indulgences, My Live Journal, Writings of the Femail. Want...ask and you shall receive.
Angelus/Darla
R (for one word and imagery)
Summary: Every relationship has its twists.
Spoilers: pre-canon so nothing really
A/N: Not a continuation of Butterfly Under Glass, but it takes place about two weeks later.
This was written in response to a challenge from lilbreck’s I-Will-Work-For-Fic Challenge.
Thanks to jennillu for the beta and good conversation.
Feedback whore here! Be my trick.
~~~~*~~~~
Smothering.
It was how he would best describe her.
He drowned in her attentions, asphyxiated by a maddeningly obsessive need that was ingrained in every cell of his demonic being.
He belonged to her.
That she allowed him to posture and crow like a rooster in heat, the supposed head of their demonically dysfunctional family, was appreciated. Vampires were a patriarchial species, generally. Other clans were more prone to attempt an attack when a female ruled. His sire saw the value in the illusion and gladly gave up the daily running of their lair to him. Beneath it all, he understood his place and readily took it behind closed doors.
Darla lowered her tiny frame to sitting in her favorite chaise lounge and ran a gloved hand over the gleaming wood, most likely in search of dust.
“The boy is unstable, Angelus. He won’t be controlled.” She said this with a conviction summoned from experience.
“I’ve beaten him bloody and broken, Darla,” he replied with a sigh. “He either glares at me in human face the entire time or makes promises of behaving that we both know he can’t keep,” Angelus shook his head, frustrated with the situation and tired of arguing, and knelt in front of her to assist in unlacing her boots. “But he’s a strong one with a will of iron and as inconvenient as his activities are, maybe Drusilla is onto something.”
His sire rolled her eyes at the mention of his second childe. Penn she tolerated, primarily because he was male and not a threat to her position in his heart, but this Drusilla was a different matter entirely.
The girl had been a game for her, fun sport. One so close to God always represented a challenge, and she convinced Angelus to rise to the occasion and snatch the girl from the clutches of Christ. And he did so with a feral pleasure none outside their race would understand.
All was perfect until that night. The plan had been to finally slaughter the girl and feast on her blood, seasoned with fear, misery and newfound insanity. But her boy surprised her with a plan of his own and turned the girl, making her a childe no less, giving her enough of his blood to ensure tremendous physical strength upon rising.
Twenty years had passed and he was still taken with the creature. The way he indulged her every whim, and there were plenty, sickened Darla.
William was just the latest of those indulgences.
“Drusilla’s insane, Angelus, or have you forgotten?”
He smiled, peeking up at her through his lashes in that way that told her that he either wanted sex or intended to manipulate her.
“Of course I remember. I think she’s the finest thing I’ve created.”
He was done with her lacings and removed her boots slowly, massaging each foot for a few seconds as it was freed from the confines. She let her eyes close, to enjoy the stimulation and retreat from his gaze, equally.
“But her visions usually come to pass,” he continued, “and she swears he’ll be great, a master.”
Her laughter rang in the air, and for all its ugly intent, he still found it beautiful.
“He’ll be lucky if he can master his own cock. At least she’s got a handle on him in that regard.”
He had not risen from his place by her feet. She leaned over, ignoring the tightness of her corset, took his face in her hands that were now free of the gloves.
“You take over siring him. His antics entertain Drusilla, which encourages him. It’s a cycle, Angelus. Break it.”
He glanced away, lost in thought. Stepping in and ruling over the boy would anger Drusilla; she was his rightful sire and had been doing a fair job of it, with his occasional intervention.
Darla’s sigh disrupted his musings.
“It’s this or the stake for him. You choose.” He nodded in acceptance of her terms. His childe was too attached to William to do anything else. Later he needed to check and make certain his stones still hung low.
With that she got up and prepared for bed, turning back to him to add, “And if that boy calls me a bloody bitch one more time, I'll bathe him in holy water.”
She was the death of him, his life and unlife, his Heaven and Hell. His contradiction. And if she murdered him a little each day, buried him in her blood and passion, well that was just fine.
~~~~*~~~~
end