Shanti Paramita
Shanti Paramita
By FemailoftheSpecies
Joss owns all
Distro: WWOMB, Mystifying Dreams, Writings of the Femail, My LJ
FRAO
Spoilers: pre-canon
Warnings: slash, sex, blood
Summary: Tolerance, forbearance, endurance, patience. He would need them all.
A/N: This is for spring_spangel.
lilbreck if you want it for Indulgences, please feel free to take it as a freebee. It’s not one of your listed pairings for the challenge, but it is in that same universe.
Thanks to jennillu for the beta.
Feedback is encouraged and welcome.
They were going to the Savoy to see Patience. It was October 10, 1881, the first anniversary of William’s turning, and this theatre was the newest thing going.
Angelus was all about being seen in the right places at the right time. In William’s opinion, some of Angelus’ bitch of a sire rubbed off on him in that way, infecting them both with the need to belong to a society which had long ago shunned her.
This all worked out well since William’s sire wanted to hunt in the Strand near Trafalgar Square. There had been a bit of a riot the night before and the upstarts were rumored to be gathered there. Drusilla had been excited about the prospects and thrumming with energy.
Never did what William wanted play into the deciding, but the youngest was well adjusted to that, yet far from unhappy. His unlife had began unstably, a little tumultuous, as he grew accustomed to the evil inside him. Disconcerting at first, he now reveled in it. Drusilla found his unfettered wickedness to be rather amusing and constantly sought new avenues for her boy to explore.
“Dearest William,” she called to him as she navigated the steps up to St Martin’s, her skirts swishing in the night air. Angelus stiffened, unwilling to let one of his childe’s many whims disrupt his evening, but did not break stride as her own childe did as required and fell behind to see what she wanted.
William’s arms circled her waist easily as he pressed into her from behind, much more intimate an embrace than was proper. She stared at the doors, seeing through them, no doubt. “What is it, pet?”
She growled, grinding her arse into him. “Dinner, my sweet.”
And then she entered the holy place with the surety that she most certaintly belonged. William glanced back to see Angelus and Darla as they slipped into the grim London shadows to wait or find their own quarry. Satisfied that he and Drusilla weren’t committing some unforeseen grievance, he followed his dark haired beauty inside.
She was a quick and efficient feeder when she had reason to be. William had not been so tidy in the early days and his wicked plum spent many afternoons clapping and singing prettily as her sire beat some neatness into her boy. The lessons took hold eventually, but he still felt it now as Angelus’ brown eyes roamed over his form, hot and full of something covetous while he looked for traces of blood. But today was his deathday and he was not trying to incur Angelus’ considerable wrath as amusing as that could be.
William noticed that they looked well-fed, his Grandsire and the succubitch of his existence, rosy and warmed with the stolen blood. The time he and Drusilla spent inside the walls of the Christ’s home had not been thrown away in wait.
Pleased and full they headed up the Strand and to the Savoy, the night off to a glorious start.
“Oh, William! That was brilliantly funny.” Drusilla’s voice was tiny and melodious and full of wonder. Her childe smiled, the tiny creases around his eyes that mortal life had afforded him forming as she danced lithely around him, humming one of the songs they’d heard inside. He was very much pleased that the opera had thrilled her so. “Did you enjoy it as well?”
He did, surprisingly, although there were too many similarities to this new existence with which to be comfortable. “Yes, luv. I liked the lighting especially. It was almost like the sun.”
She stopped dancing and placed her thin trembling hand over his heart, staring inside him. “You always like what’s bright and new. It shall carry you across the centuries.”
He pretended not to notice as Darla favored his grandsire with a peculiar look. “Good to know then.” He said offhandedly, already mesmerized by her.
“Are your very glad I killed you?”
“Very much so. Are you?” he asked, gazing into her eyes.
Nodding her agreement, she tilted her head upward and their mouths met. The two of them ignored the scandalized gasping of the prim and proper crowd and the humans were more fortunate than they imagined. Any attention that she spared them now would likely end in terror and bloodshed. It was nothing William couldn’t get behind in an instant, but he knew her sire was anal about such a display.
It was Darla’s tired inquiry of “Can’t you stop them from behaving like a pair of mating ferrets for one evening, Angelus?” that pulled him from her delectable lips.
Angelus disliked being told what to do or that he had not done something properly, to her highness’s satisfaction. And properly disciplining his spirited offspring was a source of contention between him and his sire since the day Drusilla brought home her new toy. The bulky brunette had chosen to ignore the fledgling at first, not thinking much of “Sweet Willy” or his aptitude to last long in Drusilla’s impiously brutal care.
Yet he had lasted and thrived, stunning the older ones, but not his own sire. She saw around corners and things, monumental things, were not unknown to her.
“Drusilla. See Darla home, precious. I’ve a surprise for your boy,” Angelus cooed while releasing his hold on Darla’s arm. Her cold feral eyes danced with malice as she glanced at William, her expression haughty and knowing. The deathday boy suppressed a shiver and predicted that he was not going to like this.
His eyes narrowed, taking in the scene, as his dark beauty’s widen with glee. “Oh Daddy, you’ve something special for my William? A prezzie?” she clapped, unaware of the duplicity in her sire’s eyes.
“Of course, Princess,” he smiled at her and somehow managed not to be condescending. That would have angered William as it always did when they treated her as if daft.
“What is it? Do tell us,” she asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet in her fashionable slippers.
Angelus kissed her forehead, but his eyes were on William, consuming him, before pulling away and glancing down at her. “Now don’t be silly, precious. I can’t surprise him if I tell.”
She pouted, but nodded quickly, her mind already making the leap to another subject, while snatching Darla by the hand. “Come along, Grandmummy. Our boys are going to play.”
Darla cast her grandchilde a murderous glance that went unacknowledged and William began to feel the first traces of fear. She allowed Drusilla to drag her away, grinning sweetly as Angelus bid them good night. “Don’t kill anything, Dru. Go straight home.”
The room was dark. Not that it bothered William any, but a human would have had trouble maneuvering around. He had other worries, but did his best to appear as unconcerned as he normally was about things.
He was overwhelmed by a sense of this being planned.
Angelus had hired a carriage, strange enough, to take them along Piccadilly near Hyde Park. Once there it was a short walk to their destination: the St. James’ Club. William almost barked in laughter when they entered and the doorman rush to attend to his grandsire as if he were one of them. Angelus ate it up.
The younger vampire was unsure of when or how Angelus had become a member in good standing, but the humans believed him to be a wealthy eccentric, one who could be mixing with his own kind instead of the poor upper class found here, and they seemed pleased that he had joined.
So the request of a private room and bath was met with quiet servitude and no questions.
“There’s a game going on downstairs,” William pointed out to him, although Angelus was already aware. He was aware of everything. “I’ll see about joining. We can bleed them dry before we, well, bleed them dry.”
“No. Not this evening, William.” He stared out of the window, the blue damask drapery brushing against him gently. “Darla plans to take to you Paris.”
“Paris?” He didn’t dare say more. Darla planning to do anything with or to the mouthy vampire was ultimately bad enough. That Angelus felt the need to divulge it, even worse.
“To see her precious Master. Be introduced to the Order.”
“And this is my present then? Because as surprises go, it’s not exactly what I’d call pleasant.” William’s voice was deep and resonant, a calm contradiction to the tension he was feeling.
“No, that was just something to get away from the women. I’m not supposed to tell you. Darla wants to deliver you...unspoiled.”
His eyebrow lifted a notch. “Unspoiled.” He mimicked and then pursed his lips, shutting them against repeating everything the older vampire said.
“He likes to break his family in properly. I should have seen this coming.”
As Angelus’ words sunk, William jumped from the settee to his feet, roaring in outrage. “I know you’re not saying what it sounds like you’re saying!”
The thing about Angelus, the most predictable thing, was that he did not appreciate being yelled at. Darla with her high-handed ways, tended to keep her voice calm and pleasant, even while beating her darling boy in the privacy of their rooms. William...he was a yeller. There was something about a good shout that he found liberating.
So the great, hunk of a hand wrapped around his throat was nothing new. They did this on a daily basis. It was expected.
But the look in his eyes, haunted and hungry, as he stared into blue ones was something altogether different and disturbing. William didn’t bother trying to speak, no air anyway, and resigned to wait the brunette out, ignoring the swelling in his cock as usual.
“She’s doing this because she knows. She knows and can’t stand it.”
That had him frowning. Angelus lessened his grip and it was enough for the boy to pull in air and push it past bruising vocal cords in speech. “What does she know?”
He appeared frustrated as if something troubled him more than he cared to admit.
“What does she know?” He growled low and broke free of his grandsire. Distance was the first thing he wanted to achieve. “What have you done, Angelus?”
“What I had to...to keep you alive.”
“You’re a bit late,” he laughed.
“She ordered me to stake you. She’s always been a jealous hearted one, that woman.” He poured half a glass of scotch and drank it down in one swallow. “But I made a deal with her. I would take over your siring for Drusilla. Teach you and keep you out of trouble.”
William swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “I don’t understand...”
“But I was not allowed full siring privileges. She’s too envious for that. So I talked her into giving me a year to get you in line. If I a managed it, I could take over completely, no more restrictions.”
Anger was the predominate emotion that coursed through William’s dead veins. “I’m not some bloody pawn for your minds games with Darla.”
Angelus ignored his, continuing on over the grumbled words. “She never thought you would make it. Drusilla was always sure of you, but Darla never listens to my girl. But now she knows. You are more than Drusilla’s playmate.”
He turned from the window for the first time since he began bearing his non-existent soul. His eyes were dark, nearly black, as they bore into William. He took a step toward Angelus before forcing himself to hold his ground.
“You’re mine, William. My childe, my protégé, my blood.” He counted off the ways on his fingers as he stalked towards the object of his newest obsession. “Darla thinks to take you to him so he can destroy your spirit, destroy what I desire. He’ll want to keep a pretty thing such as you by his side as a fuck toy and is not likely to let you return for more years that I care to imagine.”
His mouth had fallen open on the ‘you’re mine’ and was still catching flies. He managed a squeaky, “Excuse me?” Was Angelus saying that Darla was trying to pass him off to her bat-faced sire?
“My darling sire is...inventive and malicious. But I’ve not lasted this long under her tutelage without learning a few tricks of my own.”
“This is bloody beautiful. You and Darla have some sort of axe to grind, only it’s my head where you want to bury it.” He stormed toward the door, intent on leaving, hiding out somewhere until he could get Drusilla alone, and then steal away with her into the night to find their own future. “Leave me out of it.”
Apparently, he was unaware of a few things. Angelus was eager to inform the boy. One hundred and ninety pounds of vampire mass slammed into him and pressed the smaller form into the wall next to the door. William felt the vampire behind him, heavy and immoveable. It was as arousing as it was irritating.
“You’re already in it. Deep and drowning, William. She will hand you over to him on a shiny platter, taking from me and my childe something that we both crave.” As he held the boy trapped between his weight and the wall, William heard the words that were said and shook his head as if the negate their meaning. An eternity of being nothing more than a pet was not how his pictured his unlife.
“I can leave.”
“You won’t get far. The Master’s influence is everywhere. Someone will betray you to curry favor with him or her.”
He sagged, a sense of loss filling him although nothing had even occurred yet.
“I won’t let him have what’s mine,” he whispered in William’s ear, delighting in the shiver that ran through the creature. He planned to make him tremble in a very different way...soon.
“Drusilla’s,” the boy countered while being spun around. “I’m very certain on who turned me.”
“Do you not see what’s been before your eyes all this time?” he asked. William tried to ignore the feel of hands, kneading his flesh roughly so unlike Drusilla and gentle caresses.
“I...I’m sure I don’t.” His mouth spoke words that were instantly betrayed by his traitorous body. Angelus cupped the evidence of William’s lie with a crushing grip and the young vampire gasped as a cold heat shot through his body, making him vibrate with pleasure.
“Forever, Will. Seems like I’ve waited forever for you.” The ridges of his grandsire’s demon appeared, yet William did not expect what occurred next. Fangs, sharps as razors and long as the night, slid into his neck, agonizingly, but all the better for the terrible sting.
“Angelus...” he uttered as the drain took over his thoughts. He was being lead to that bed, but offered no resistance, caught in the thrall of being taken.
He eased the boy down, his mouth never leaving the tender flesh, and straddled slender, powerful thighs. Unbelievably to William, his hips, having grown a mind of their own, thrust up to grind into Angelus’ erection. He returned the sentiment, pressing into the boy until he bruised. Finally, he pulled off the vein, gazing at into blue eyes as he licked his of the lingering blood. It took everything in William not to chase after Angelus’ mouth and taste himself there. But when his grandsire tilted his head to the side, exposing his throat, the offer clear, the boy did not hesitate.
Light, bright and blinding, burst behind his eyes as the first taste hit his tongue, moaning. Lost and found, he was nothing and everything, life and death, as he partook of his unholy host. He was unable to explain it, this sense of wholeness, yet it consumed William as he consumed the blood on offer, chipping away at his resolve to be his own demon, leading him to the inevitable.
Belonging.
Too soon a hand clenched in softly curled hair and dragged William from the excruciating bliss of that fount. He was sure he whimpered, but there was not time to dwell on it for his mouth was covered by Angelus’ and the resurgence of his desires burst through. Lips parted for the other’s insistent tongue and the brunette’s invasion of Drusilla’s wild one was beautiful and shocking and nothing short of perfect.
Often times he forgot that he did not need to breathe, so William found himself pulling away, panting and utterly aroused. Angelus rested his forehead against his, looking at the other vampire in that way that William had grown to be suspicious of as he worked the buttons of his shirt and trousers.
“Lift up.” William did and he pushed the garment down past thin hips, exposing the young one to his view.
The many times he had envisioned this happening, William pushed the thoughts away, burying them deep. But Drusilla knew. Sometimes she saw her Daddy’s hands dancing like ghosts over her boy as he shagged her senseless and told her childe it was what he wanted...what Angelus desired as well. Of course, he dismissed this as he dismissed any of her ramblings that seem too outrageous to hold any truth. Despite what he knew he felt in his demonic heart, he was able to easily reason that she was only half correct. Angelus did not want him.
“You’ve been waiting for me, then, all this time?” he inquired incredulously.
He kissed William’s milky white throat and moving back to his mouth. Delicious lips collided with delicious lips, their tongues dueling for dominance until Angelus’ made it apparently that clearly he was in charge of this encounter. There was a sinking in William’s stomach as he was being devoured and growl from Angelus. It went low and into the young vampire’s cock, making it jump between them. Instinctively, a still soft hand went to touch, relieve, release, but was pushed away before reaching its goal. The older demon moved away from William’s mouth, his lips and teeth nipping and licking a path down the hard smooth chest.
“I’ve had the patience of a saint,” he said against a heaving chest before biting into a nipple.
He howled, the pain unexpected, and began to pant as Angelus lapped at the spilled blood, groaning as his own cock jumped. The patriarch of their little clan would no longer deny himself what he’d wanted since the first time he had to discipline the boy, only to be thwarted by a will of iron.
“You’ve been allow to roam free for too long. Drusilla’s your lover, boy, and can never be what you really need.”
At that point William only knew that he wanted whatever his grandsire had to offer. “And what is it that I need, Angelus?” His hips lifted from the bed to meet the brunette's still clothed ones.
Kissing his way down he answered, “One as powerful as yourself, like-minded, hard.” Then he was writhing as his erection was engulfed by the cool cavern of his grandsire’s mouth.
“Bloody...hell...Ange...” he cried out and then there was nothing but horrifically rapturous sensations and William screaming his pleasure as his hips were held in a brutal grip and Angelus fucked him with his mouth until the boy was a trembling, moaning, begging mass of impending orgasm.
So it was a great frustration when Angelus pulled off just before he intended to shoot his dead seed down his throat. His back arched from the mattress as his head rolled from side to side.
“Please, Angelus,” he groaned, dismayed that he had, yet unable to not to plead for release. But his grandsire only held the base his cock in a vice grip. Several curses spilled from full lips, feeling foreign on his tongue, but not in his mind. Angelus laughed and leaned in close.
“Shhh, Will. Nothing is yours, not even this,” he shook his shaft for emphasis. “Now turn over.”
He froze. Fear of what Angelus wanted played a huge part. The pain was not a deterrent and, in fact, the promise of dizzying agony was what kept him from trying to bolt from the room and the club. Even the city. What he dreaded was this totally obedience that would be required of him. There was a rebellious streak in him that had not surfaced until he was killed, but it was there nonetheless.
“Turn over, Will. I’ll not say it again.”
The fight or flight instinct was crawling to the surface as he writhed around beneath Angelus’ hulking mass. Angelus sensed the boy’s unease and was prepared to force him if needed, but preferred to have him give in. He found it to be much sweeter when they wanted to be possessed.
“You undress as well.” William commanded. “I want to see you.”
This was unexpected, but appreciated. Angelus removed his clothing quickly, casting the garments aside carelessly. The boy was laid out on the bed watching him with his mouth partially opened, his flesh pale and perfect against the deep blue material. He longed to mar that skin, mark it as his own.
William had seen Angelus nude many times, had been in the bed with him and Darla as they both pleasure the women, but knowing that the blatant arousal before him was for him filled the vampire with a sort of demonic joy.
Angelus placed a knee on the bed and crawled over the slim form. He took William’s hands and placed them over his head, pressing them into the mattress as he kissed him. “You can look your fill all night, and perhaps all tomorrow night as well, William. I don’t think we’ll be going home for a while.”
Smiling into the willing mouth, he marveled at his own virtue. Darla would be angry. He was certain of that. And she was likely to take a layer of his skin as a payment for the Master’s loss. But none of that mattered. Darla played her hand too soon. She was never one to wait for long.
As he plunged inside the virgin hole his mind swirled with images of what this creature would be. The boy was his - blood, body and demon - and this was one game that he would win in the end.
After all, patience was a virtue.
By FemailoftheSpecies
Joss owns all
Distro: WWOMB, Mystifying Dreams, Writings of the Femail, My LJ
FRAO
Spoilers: pre-canon
Warnings: slash, sex, blood
Summary: Tolerance, forbearance, endurance, patience. He would need them all.
A/N: This is for spring_spangel.
lilbreck if you want it for Indulgences, please feel free to take it as a freebee. It’s not one of your listed pairings for the challenge, but it is in that same universe.
Thanks to jennillu for the beta.
Feedback is encouraged and welcome.
They were going to the Savoy to see Patience. It was October 10, 1881, the first anniversary of William’s turning, and this theatre was the newest thing going.
Angelus was all about being seen in the right places at the right time. In William’s opinion, some of Angelus’ bitch of a sire rubbed off on him in that way, infecting them both with the need to belong to a society which had long ago shunned her.
This all worked out well since William’s sire wanted to hunt in the Strand near Trafalgar Square. There had been a bit of a riot the night before and the upstarts were rumored to be gathered there. Drusilla had been excited about the prospects and thrumming with energy.
Never did what William wanted play into the deciding, but the youngest was well adjusted to that, yet far from unhappy. His unlife had began unstably, a little tumultuous, as he grew accustomed to the evil inside him. Disconcerting at first, he now reveled in it. Drusilla found his unfettered wickedness to be rather amusing and constantly sought new avenues for her boy to explore.
“Dearest William,” she called to him as she navigated the steps up to St Martin’s, her skirts swishing in the night air. Angelus stiffened, unwilling to let one of his childe’s many whims disrupt his evening, but did not break stride as her own childe did as required and fell behind to see what she wanted.
William’s arms circled her waist easily as he pressed into her from behind, much more intimate an embrace than was proper. She stared at the doors, seeing through them, no doubt. “What is it, pet?”
She growled, grinding her arse into him. “Dinner, my sweet.”
And then she entered the holy place with the surety that she most certaintly belonged. William glanced back to see Angelus and Darla as they slipped into the grim London shadows to wait or find their own quarry. Satisfied that he and Drusilla weren’t committing some unforeseen grievance, he followed his dark haired beauty inside.
She was a quick and efficient feeder when she had reason to be. William had not been so tidy in the early days and his wicked plum spent many afternoons clapping and singing prettily as her sire beat some neatness into her boy. The lessons took hold eventually, but he still felt it now as Angelus’ brown eyes roamed over his form, hot and full of something covetous while he looked for traces of blood. But today was his deathday and he was not trying to incur Angelus’ considerable wrath as amusing as that could be.
William noticed that they looked well-fed, his Grandsire and the succubitch of his existence, rosy and warmed with the stolen blood. The time he and Drusilla spent inside the walls of the Christ’s home had not been thrown away in wait.
Pleased and full they headed up the Strand and to the Savoy, the night off to a glorious start.
“Oh, William! That was brilliantly funny.” Drusilla’s voice was tiny and melodious and full of wonder. Her childe smiled, the tiny creases around his eyes that mortal life had afforded him forming as she danced lithely around him, humming one of the songs they’d heard inside. He was very much pleased that the opera had thrilled her so. “Did you enjoy it as well?”
He did, surprisingly, although there were too many similarities to this new existence with which to be comfortable. “Yes, luv. I liked the lighting especially. It was almost like the sun.”
She stopped dancing and placed her thin trembling hand over his heart, staring inside him. “You always like what’s bright and new. It shall carry you across the centuries.”
He pretended not to notice as Darla favored his grandsire with a peculiar look. “Good to know then.” He said offhandedly, already mesmerized by her.
“Are your very glad I killed you?”
“Very much so. Are you?” he asked, gazing into her eyes.
Nodding her agreement, she tilted her head upward and their mouths met. The two of them ignored the scandalized gasping of the prim and proper crowd and the humans were more fortunate than they imagined. Any attention that she spared them now would likely end in terror and bloodshed. It was nothing William couldn’t get behind in an instant, but he knew her sire was anal about such a display.
It was Darla’s tired inquiry of “Can’t you stop them from behaving like a pair of mating ferrets for one evening, Angelus?” that pulled him from her delectable lips.
Angelus disliked being told what to do or that he had not done something properly, to her highness’s satisfaction. And properly disciplining his spirited offspring was a source of contention between him and his sire since the day Drusilla brought home her new toy. The bulky brunette had chosen to ignore the fledgling at first, not thinking much of “Sweet Willy” or his aptitude to last long in Drusilla’s impiously brutal care.
Yet he had lasted and thrived, stunning the older ones, but not his own sire. She saw around corners and things, monumental things, were not unknown to her.
“Drusilla. See Darla home, precious. I’ve a surprise for your boy,” Angelus cooed while releasing his hold on Darla’s arm. Her cold feral eyes danced with malice as she glanced at William, her expression haughty and knowing. The deathday boy suppressed a shiver and predicted that he was not going to like this.
His eyes narrowed, taking in the scene, as his dark beauty’s widen with glee. “Oh Daddy, you’ve something special for my William? A prezzie?” she clapped, unaware of the duplicity in her sire’s eyes.
“Of course, Princess,” he smiled at her and somehow managed not to be condescending. That would have angered William as it always did when they treated her as if daft.
“What is it? Do tell us,” she asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet in her fashionable slippers.
Angelus kissed her forehead, but his eyes were on William, consuming him, before pulling away and glancing down at her. “Now don’t be silly, precious. I can’t surprise him if I tell.”
She pouted, but nodded quickly, her mind already making the leap to another subject, while snatching Darla by the hand. “Come along, Grandmummy. Our boys are going to play.”
Darla cast her grandchilde a murderous glance that went unacknowledged and William began to feel the first traces of fear. She allowed Drusilla to drag her away, grinning sweetly as Angelus bid them good night. “Don’t kill anything, Dru. Go straight home.”
The room was dark. Not that it bothered William any, but a human would have had trouble maneuvering around. He had other worries, but did his best to appear as unconcerned as he normally was about things.
He was overwhelmed by a sense of this being planned.
Angelus had hired a carriage, strange enough, to take them along Piccadilly near Hyde Park. Once there it was a short walk to their destination: the St. James’ Club. William almost barked in laughter when they entered and the doorman rush to attend to his grandsire as if he were one of them. Angelus ate it up.
The younger vampire was unsure of when or how Angelus had become a member in good standing, but the humans believed him to be a wealthy eccentric, one who could be mixing with his own kind instead of the poor upper class found here, and they seemed pleased that he had joined.
So the request of a private room and bath was met with quiet servitude and no questions.
“There’s a game going on downstairs,” William pointed out to him, although Angelus was already aware. He was aware of everything. “I’ll see about joining. We can bleed them dry before we, well, bleed them dry.”
“No. Not this evening, William.” He stared out of the window, the blue damask drapery brushing against him gently. “Darla plans to take to you Paris.”
“Paris?” He didn’t dare say more. Darla planning to do anything with or to the mouthy vampire was ultimately bad enough. That Angelus felt the need to divulge it, even worse.
“To see her precious Master. Be introduced to the Order.”
“And this is my present then? Because as surprises go, it’s not exactly what I’d call pleasant.” William’s voice was deep and resonant, a calm contradiction to the tension he was feeling.
“No, that was just something to get away from the women. I’m not supposed to tell you. Darla wants to deliver you...unspoiled.”
His eyebrow lifted a notch. “Unspoiled.” He mimicked and then pursed his lips, shutting them against repeating everything the older vampire said.
“He likes to break his family in properly. I should have seen this coming.”
As Angelus’ words sunk, William jumped from the settee to his feet, roaring in outrage. “I know you’re not saying what it sounds like you’re saying!”
The thing about Angelus, the most predictable thing, was that he did not appreciate being yelled at. Darla with her high-handed ways, tended to keep her voice calm and pleasant, even while beating her darling boy in the privacy of their rooms. William...he was a yeller. There was something about a good shout that he found liberating.
So the great, hunk of a hand wrapped around his throat was nothing new. They did this on a daily basis. It was expected.
But the look in his eyes, haunted and hungry, as he stared into blue ones was something altogether different and disturbing. William didn’t bother trying to speak, no air anyway, and resigned to wait the brunette out, ignoring the swelling in his cock as usual.
“She’s doing this because she knows. She knows and can’t stand it.”
That had him frowning. Angelus lessened his grip and it was enough for the boy to pull in air and push it past bruising vocal cords in speech. “What does she know?”
He appeared frustrated as if something troubled him more than he cared to admit.
“What does she know?” He growled low and broke free of his grandsire. Distance was the first thing he wanted to achieve. “What have you done, Angelus?”
“What I had to...to keep you alive.”
“You’re a bit late,” he laughed.
“She ordered me to stake you. She’s always been a jealous hearted one, that woman.” He poured half a glass of scotch and drank it down in one swallow. “But I made a deal with her. I would take over your siring for Drusilla. Teach you and keep you out of trouble.”
William swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “I don’t understand...”
“But I was not allowed full siring privileges. She’s too envious for that. So I talked her into giving me a year to get you in line. If I a managed it, I could take over completely, no more restrictions.”
Anger was the predominate emotion that coursed through William’s dead veins. “I’m not some bloody pawn for your minds games with Darla.”
Angelus ignored his, continuing on over the grumbled words. “She never thought you would make it. Drusilla was always sure of you, but Darla never listens to my girl. But now she knows. You are more than Drusilla’s playmate.”
He turned from the window for the first time since he began bearing his non-existent soul. His eyes were dark, nearly black, as they bore into William. He took a step toward Angelus before forcing himself to hold his ground.
“You’re mine, William. My childe, my protégé, my blood.” He counted off the ways on his fingers as he stalked towards the object of his newest obsession. “Darla thinks to take you to him so he can destroy your spirit, destroy what I desire. He’ll want to keep a pretty thing such as you by his side as a fuck toy and is not likely to let you return for more years that I care to imagine.”
His mouth had fallen open on the ‘you’re mine’ and was still catching flies. He managed a squeaky, “Excuse me?” Was Angelus saying that Darla was trying to pass him off to her bat-faced sire?
“My darling sire is...inventive and malicious. But I’ve not lasted this long under her tutelage without learning a few tricks of my own.”
“This is bloody beautiful. You and Darla have some sort of axe to grind, only it’s my head where you want to bury it.” He stormed toward the door, intent on leaving, hiding out somewhere until he could get Drusilla alone, and then steal away with her into the night to find their own future. “Leave me out of it.”
Apparently, he was unaware of a few things. Angelus was eager to inform the boy. One hundred and ninety pounds of vampire mass slammed into him and pressed the smaller form into the wall next to the door. William felt the vampire behind him, heavy and immoveable. It was as arousing as it was irritating.
“You’re already in it. Deep and drowning, William. She will hand you over to him on a shiny platter, taking from me and my childe something that we both crave.” As he held the boy trapped between his weight and the wall, William heard the words that were said and shook his head as if the negate their meaning. An eternity of being nothing more than a pet was not how his pictured his unlife.
“I can leave.”
“You won’t get far. The Master’s influence is everywhere. Someone will betray you to curry favor with him or her.”
He sagged, a sense of loss filling him although nothing had even occurred yet.
“I won’t let him have what’s mine,” he whispered in William’s ear, delighting in the shiver that ran through the creature. He planned to make him tremble in a very different way...soon.
“Drusilla’s,” the boy countered while being spun around. “I’m very certain on who turned me.”
“Do you not see what’s been before your eyes all this time?” he asked. William tried to ignore the feel of hands, kneading his flesh roughly so unlike Drusilla and gentle caresses.
“I...I’m sure I don’t.” His mouth spoke words that were instantly betrayed by his traitorous body. Angelus cupped the evidence of William’s lie with a crushing grip and the young vampire gasped as a cold heat shot through his body, making him vibrate with pleasure.
“Forever, Will. Seems like I’ve waited forever for you.” The ridges of his grandsire’s demon appeared, yet William did not expect what occurred next. Fangs, sharps as razors and long as the night, slid into his neck, agonizingly, but all the better for the terrible sting.
“Angelus...” he uttered as the drain took over his thoughts. He was being lead to that bed, but offered no resistance, caught in the thrall of being taken.
He eased the boy down, his mouth never leaving the tender flesh, and straddled slender, powerful thighs. Unbelievably to William, his hips, having grown a mind of their own, thrust up to grind into Angelus’ erection. He returned the sentiment, pressing into the boy until he bruised. Finally, he pulled off the vein, gazing at into blue eyes as he licked his of the lingering blood. It took everything in William not to chase after Angelus’ mouth and taste himself there. But when his grandsire tilted his head to the side, exposing his throat, the offer clear, the boy did not hesitate.
Light, bright and blinding, burst behind his eyes as the first taste hit his tongue, moaning. Lost and found, he was nothing and everything, life and death, as he partook of his unholy host. He was unable to explain it, this sense of wholeness, yet it consumed William as he consumed the blood on offer, chipping away at his resolve to be his own demon, leading him to the inevitable.
Belonging.
Too soon a hand clenched in softly curled hair and dragged William from the excruciating bliss of that fount. He was sure he whimpered, but there was not time to dwell on it for his mouth was covered by Angelus’ and the resurgence of his desires burst through. Lips parted for the other’s insistent tongue and the brunette’s invasion of Drusilla’s wild one was beautiful and shocking and nothing short of perfect.
Often times he forgot that he did not need to breathe, so William found himself pulling away, panting and utterly aroused. Angelus rested his forehead against his, looking at the other vampire in that way that William had grown to be suspicious of as he worked the buttons of his shirt and trousers.
“Lift up.” William did and he pushed the garment down past thin hips, exposing the young one to his view.
The many times he had envisioned this happening, William pushed the thoughts away, burying them deep. But Drusilla knew. Sometimes she saw her Daddy’s hands dancing like ghosts over her boy as he shagged her senseless and told her childe it was what he wanted...what Angelus desired as well. Of course, he dismissed this as he dismissed any of her ramblings that seem too outrageous to hold any truth. Despite what he knew he felt in his demonic heart, he was able to easily reason that she was only half correct. Angelus did not want him.
“You’ve been waiting for me, then, all this time?” he inquired incredulously.
He kissed William’s milky white throat and moving back to his mouth. Delicious lips collided with delicious lips, their tongues dueling for dominance until Angelus’ made it apparently that clearly he was in charge of this encounter. There was a sinking in William’s stomach as he was being devoured and growl from Angelus. It went low and into the young vampire’s cock, making it jump between them. Instinctively, a still soft hand went to touch, relieve, release, but was pushed away before reaching its goal. The older demon moved away from William’s mouth, his lips and teeth nipping and licking a path down the hard smooth chest.
“I’ve had the patience of a saint,” he said against a heaving chest before biting into a nipple.
He howled, the pain unexpected, and began to pant as Angelus lapped at the spilled blood, groaning as his own cock jumped. The patriarch of their little clan would no longer deny himself what he’d wanted since the first time he had to discipline the boy, only to be thwarted by a will of iron.
“You’ve been allow to roam free for too long. Drusilla’s your lover, boy, and can never be what you really need.”
At that point William only knew that he wanted whatever his grandsire had to offer. “And what is it that I need, Angelus?” His hips lifted from the bed to meet the brunette's still clothed ones.
Kissing his way down he answered, “One as powerful as yourself, like-minded, hard.” Then he was writhing as his erection was engulfed by the cool cavern of his grandsire’s mouth.
“Bloody...hell...Ange...” he cried out and then there was nothing but horrifically rapturous sensations and William screaming his pleasure as his hips were held in a brutal grip and Angelus fucked him with his mouth until the boy was a trembling, moaning, begging mass of impending orgasm.
So it was a great frustration when Angelus pulled off just before he intended to shoot his dead seed down his throat. His back arched from the mattress as his head rolled from side to side.
“Please, Angelus,” he groaned, dismayed that he had, yet unable to not to plead for release. But his grandsire only held the base his cock in a vice grip. Several curses spilled from full lips, feeling foreign on his tongue, but not in his mind. Angelus laughed and leaned in close.
“Shhh, Will. Nothing is yours, not even this,” he shook his shaft for emphasis. “Now turn over.”
He froze. Fear of what Angelus wanted played a huge part. The pain was not a deterrent and, in fact, the promise of dizzying agony was what kept him from trying to bolt from the room and the club. Even the city. What he dreaded was this totally obedience that would be required of him. There was a rebellious streak in him that had not surfaced until he was killed, but it was there nonetheless.
“Turn over, Will. I’ll not say it again.”
The fight or flight instinct was crawling to the surface as he writhed around beneath Angelus’ hulking mass. Angelus sensed the boy’s unease and was prepared to force him if needed, but preferred to have him give in. He found it to be much sweeter when they wanted to be possessed.
“You undress as well.” William commanded. “I want to see you.”
This was unexpected, but appreciated. Angelus removed his clothing quickly, casting the garments aside carelessly. The boy was laid out on the bed watching him with his mouth partially opened, his flesh pale and perfect against the deep blue material. He longed to mar that skin, mark it as his own.
William had seen Angelus nude many times, had been in the bed with him and Darla as they both pleasure the women, but knowing that the blatant arousal before him was for him filled the vampire with a sort of demonic joy.
Angelus placed a knee on the bed and crawled over the slim form. He took William’s hands and placed them over his head, pressing them into the mattress as he kissed him. “You can look your fill all night, and perhaps all tomorrow night as well, William. I don’t think we’ll be going home for a while.”
Smiling into the willing mouth, he marveled at his own virtue. Darla would be angry. He was certain of that. And she was likely to take a layer of his skin as a payment for the Master’s loss. But none of that mattered. Darla played her hand too soon. She was never one to wait for long.
As he plunged inside the virgin hole his mind swirled with images of what this creature would be. The boy was his - blood, body and demon - and this was one game that he would win in the end.
After all, patience was a virtue.