Fic: Whispers After Dark: Chapter 9
Bit of a short chapter tonight, due to a sore head. Sorry.
Previous parts here.
Details and warnings:
Whispers After Dark is an all human AU set at an English boy's public school somewhere around 1850, think Tom Brown's School Days. I haven't been overly specific about the era in terms of research, and I realise some of it is anachronistic, but in this case I really don't care that much.
However, because of the setting, some of the boys will be underage - fifteen at minimum - in case that squicks anyone. There will also be non-con, semi-non-con, bullying, fagging, spankings, the ocassional caning over a desk and private oral tutorials. Needless to say it is NC-17.
Chapter 9
It was well past seven, the sun had set several hours ago, and only now was Angelus starting to believe that William would, in the near future, be ready. The boy had proven less than co-operative once he was released from the table and Angelus had resorted to another spoonful of laudanum laced brandy to enable him to finish. Now, finally, William was bathed and oiled, his eyes outlined in dark kohl, his cheeks, lips and nipples reddened with a touch of rouge, and his hair styled so that it fell in natural curls about his face. He was beautiful. He was nearly ready for Ripper. The only task remaining was feeding him the potent hashish which would ensure his first time was pleasurable. This was proving an insurmountable barrier since the second dose laudanum had now worn off.
Angelus clenched his fists and, with some difficulty, controlled his temper. That pretty painted mouth was clamped obstinately shut, and dark rimmed eyes glared glacially at him.
He attempted to explain. Again. “William, do you want it to hurt?” Definitive shake of the head. “Then eat the cake.”
Wells held up the cake, sweet and honeyed to cover the earthy bitterness of the drug, and made eating faces. William turned his face away, his chin jutting out defiantly, arms folded across his chest.
“Don’t make me force it down your throat,” Angelus snapped. His control was slipping, his fists were itching and if William didn’t eat the damned cake, he was going to shove it so far down the boy’s throat that this afternoon’s hard work would be wasted.
“Perhaps he’ll listen to me,” Andrew suggested and then nearly dropped the cake when he realised what he’d said and who he’d said it to.
Angelus raised his eyebrows cynically. “What makes you think he’ll listen to you?”
“Be-because…” Andrew took a deep breath and gabbled the rest, “I know what it’s like and I’m his age and because he’s not scared of me.”
Reaching the point where he was willing to try anything, Angelus shot William a look of pure disgust, growled, “Ten minutes or I’ll stuff it down with a goose crammer,” and stalked out.
Andrew heaved a sigh and turned back to the boy sitting on the bed surrounded by the best eiderdown comforters and plump over-stuffed pillows. Really, William had no idea how well off he was. Maybe explaining that was the way forward.
“He’s not so bad,” Andrew began, not expecting an answer. “There are worse, truly.”
“You didn’t see Wesley.”
It was a start and more than Angelus had achieved. Pushing William’s bare legs to one side, Andrew perched on the edge of the bed and, staring down at his fingers, toyed with the cake. Eventually he licked his fingers and said, “No, I didn’t. But I can guess what he looked like.”
William made a disbelieving sound and Andrew looked up, his eyes huge. “His face was bruised, his lips were swollen, he couldn’t talk properly, and when you touched him he tried to get away because he was scared of you. Am I right?”
The knowledge, be it firsthand or otherwise, in Andrew’s words brought William up short. For some reason he had believed himself and Wesley to be the only ones, which was ridiculous of course; Oz had said no one was safe. But in William’s mind that had translated into no one being able to defend him, not that Angelus and Ripper had done this to other boys.
“You?” he asked.
Andrew shook his head and looked down again. The cake was crumbling and he brought a morsel to his mouth. “Levinson. I was sent to Ripper.”
“Like-like…”
“Like you,” Andrew agreed.
“Then why…?”
“Because now I belong to Warren - Meers. He’s actually seventeen, like MacDonald, but hasn’t gone up from the lower fourth as yet.” Andrew shrugged. “Ripper gave me to him and he looks after me.”
William stared at him, not in disbelief, but searching for the right words. There were so many things he wanted to know that he couldn’t find the right place to start. Eventually his tongue decided for him.
“Does it hurt,” he blurted, “like the water. Because, if it did, I couldn’t bear it.”
Andrew giggled. “Only a little. And not at all if you eat this.” He held up his fingers smeared with lumps of sticky hashish cake. “Oops,” he said and giggled again.
A sudden image of Lindsey kneeling before his brother and the look of rapture on Angelus’ face sprang into William’s mind. Before he could second guess himself, he caught the other boy’s hand and brought it to his lips then, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on Andrew’s face, licked firmly from the creases on the wrist to the top of the middle finger. There, he lingered, swirling his tongue around the tip and then sucking it into his mouth, closing his lips around it as he remembered Lindsey doing with Angelus’ cock.
The effect on Andrew was no less gratifying. The other boy leaned towards him, his mouth opening, and his breath warm and sweet from the cake. His eyes widened, growing deep and dark, and William could see a flush start to colour his cheeks. One at a time the rest Andrew’s fingers slipped into William’s mouth, and he sucked and licked his way up and down them cleaning away the sticky residue from the honey.
By the time he’d finished, the drug was starting to take effect. Unlike the laudanum which tugged him down into a deep pool of mindless dreams, this made him fly. He felt happy, carefree, he wanted to sing or possibly whirl around the room, but what he wanted most of all was to touch Andrew. Their lips met tentatively, both boys unsure. William because he had never kissed another and Andrew because he’d suddenly remembered this was Ripper’s boy he held in his arms.
And William was in his arms, pressing tightly against him, the flimsy robe he wore nothing more that a second skin through which Andrew could feel heat and the rapid thump, thump, thump of William’s heart.
“This is wrong. This is bad,” Andrew chanted between kisses.
But it didn’t feel wrong or bad. They fell backwards onto the bed and lay facing each other, their legs entwined. Andrew clasped the remains of the cake, squashing it between his fingers, hoping William would clean it off. He held it up but William, gazing at him through lowered lashes, took the hand and pressed it to his breast, smearing himself with sticky crumbs. Andrew moaned as his hand skated across silky oiled skin, his palm bumping over prominent nipples. His hips bucked forward, colliding with William’s and they began moving languidly against each other their craving for contact tempered by the euphoric effects of the drug. Their hands moved continuously, stroking and touching, and at some point Andrew began scooping up morsels of cake and popping them into William’s mouth, only for William to feed the taste back to him through kisses that tasted of pure sin.
Slowly the intensity of their encounter increased, until languid became urgent and their gasps harsh with rising desire. William pulled Andrew closer, devouring his mouth with an edge of desperation and his hand guided Andrew’s to his hip and then further back, as he said, “Show me. Show me that it doesn’t have to hurt.”
Andrew’s fingers petted and soothed, up and down, teasing William’s cleft as the boy squirmed against him. Knowing how forbidden this was and yet not able to care, he finally slipped his fingers between, searching out William’s entrance and circling it with gentle finger tips. A simple motion and he would be inside, inside where he so dreadfully wanted to be. Groaning, Andrew buried his face in William’s hair, inhaling his scent and letting the perfume take him over.
“Please, please,” William begged in Andrew’s ears, pushing back against those inquisitive fingers, his body aching for want of an intrusive touch. He would die if Andrew didn’t do it, he was sure. And then, in a flurry of howls, shrieks and flailing arms, his lover was gone.
Angelus threw Wells bodily from the room, bellowing for Lindsey to take care of him, before turning his attention to William. The boy lay sprawled on the bed, pupils huge, dark and stoned, his carefully applied make up smeared, his cock hard and leaking, his skin and the surrounding comforter covered in bits of hashish cake. It was a disaster but could have been so much worse.
Yanking William to his feet, Angelus shoved him out of the way before shaking and turning the coverlet. That done, he attacked the boy with a cloth, scrubbing away the sticky residue until not a sign of anything untoward remained. William stood passively, swaying slightly as Angelus turned and posed him to reapply oil, kohl and rouge.
“Lay on the bed,” Angelus instructed eventually. “On your back with your knees up.”
William hesitated, confused and scared, but Angelus saw none of that, just disobedience. “Do it,” he growled, “Or I will get the cane and beat you until you bleed.”
The threat was enough to send William scrambling for the bed and into the same position he had spent the afternoon, though now his cock lay limp against his thigh, his ardour destroyed by Angelus’ words.
Angelus finally noticed the faint quiver of the boy’s limbs and the way he chewed his lip with fright. William’s pupils were still dilated, but the euphoria from the small amount of hashish he had actually ingested had obviously worn off. Cursing his luck, Angelus hauled Ripper’s, thankfully primed, hookah from its corner and sat down on the edge of the bed. William stared at him, his eyes growing wider at the sight of the tortuous looking contraption and it took a few moments for Angelus to understand the problem.
“Drop your legs, boy,” he laughed. “This is only a pipe. Have you ever smoked?”
William shook his head, lowering his legs to the bed and still not really understanding what was going on.
A glowing coal from the fire lit the bowl and Angelus took a deep drag to get the hashish burning properly, and then handed the hose over to William. “Suck in a breath through this and hold it in your lungs for a long as you are able,” he instructed.
William did his best, the first attempt making him choke and forcing smoke out through his nose. The second, a smaller breath, was more successful and by the third he was starting to get high once again. Much sooner than William would have preferred, Angelus took the pipe away and retired it to the hearth to cool. William watched him, trying not to giggle as a familiar delicious buzz spread through his body. One escaped through his fingers and Angelus glanced over at him, an indulgent smile on his face
“That seems to have done the trick,” he said gently as he walked back to the bed carrying a bottle that he placed carefully on the nightstand. “Lift up again for me, lad.”
This time there was no hesitation and when Angelus pressed his thighs higher, William caught his knees against his chest, opening himself completely to Angelus’ inspection. An oiled finger brushed against his hole, circling and teasing as Andrew’s had before and William whimpered lifting his hips in encouragement. Then it breached him, moving and insistent, twisting and pushing deep into his body.
All the while Angelus spoke to him, keeping his voice low and soothing, and telling William he was good and beautiful, using his free hand to slap and stroke William’s buttocks to help him relax and accept more and then more again, until three fingers slid easily into the boy’s relaxed channel. Angelus sighed, it was done.
Pausing only to wrap lengths of scarlet silk around William’s wrists and throw another log on the fire, Angelus went to inform Ripper that his new boy was finally ready for him.
Previous parts here.
Details and warnings:
Whispers After Dark is an all human AU set at an English boy's public school somewhere around 1850, think Tom Brown's School Days. I haven't been overly specific about the era in terms of research, and I realise some of it is anachronistic, but in this case I really don't care that much.
However, because of the setting, some of the boys will be underage - fifteen at minimum - in case that squicks anyone. There will also be non-con, semi-non-con, bullying, fagging, spankings, the ocassional caning over a desk and private oral tutorials. Needless to say it is NC-17.
Chapter 9
It was well past seven, the sun had set several hours ago, and only now was Angelus starting to believe that William would, in the near future, be ready. The boy had proven less than co-operative once he was released from the table and Angelus had resorted to another spoonful of laudanum laced brandy to enable him to finish. Now, finally, William was bathed and oiled, his eyes outlined in dark kohl, his cheeks, lips and nipples reddened with a touch of rouge, and his hair styled so that it fell in natural curls about his face. He was beautiful. He was nearly ready for Ripper. The only task remaining was feeding him the potent hashish which would ensure his first time was pleasurable. This was proving an insurmountable barrier since the second dose laudanum had now worn off.
Angelus clenched his fists and, with some difficulty, controlled his temper. That pretty painted mouth was clamped obstinately shut, and dark rimmed eyes glared glacially at him.
He attempted to explain. Again. “William, do you want it to hurt?” Definitive shake of the head. “Then eat the cake.”
Wells held up the cake, sweet and honeyed to cover the earthy bitterness of the drug, and made eating faces. William turned his face away, his chin jutting out defiantly, arms folded across his chest.
“Don’t make me force it down your throat,” Angelus snapped. His control was slipping, his fists were itching and if William didn’t eat the damned cake, he was going to shove it so far down the boy’s throat that this afternoon’s hard work would be wasted.
“Perhaps he’ll listen to me,” Andrew suggested and then nearly dropped the cake when he realised what he’d said and who he’d said it to.
Angelus raised his eyebrows cynically. “What makes you think he’ll listen to you?”
“Be-because…” Andrew took a deep breath and gabbled the rest, “I know what it’s like and I’m his age and because he’s not scared of me.”
Reaching the point where he was willing to try anything, Angelus shot William a look of pure disgust, growled, “Ten minutes or I’ll stuff it down with a goose crammer,” and stalked out.
Andrew heaved a sigh and turned back to the boy sitting on the bed surrounded by the best eiderdown comforters and plump over-stuffed pillows. Really, William had no idea how well off he was. Maybe explaining that was the way forward.
“He’s not so bad,” Andrew began, not expecting an answer. “There are worse, truly.”
“You didn’t see Wesley.”
It was a start and more than Angelus had achieved. Pushing William’s bare legs to one side, Andrew perched on the edge of the bed and, staring down at his fingers, toyed with the cake. Eventually he licked his fingers and said, “No, I didn’t. But I can guess what he looked like.”
William made a disbelieving sound and Andrew looked up, his eyes huge. “His face was bruised, his lips were swollen, he couldn’t talk properly, and when you touched him he tried to get away because he was scared of you. Am I right?”
The knowledge, be it firsthand or otherwise, in Andrew’s words brought William up short. For some reason he had believed himself and Wesley to be the only ones, which was ridiculous of course; Oz had said no one was safe. But in William’s mind that had translated into no one being able to defend him, not that Angelus and Ripper had done this to other boys.
“You?” he asked.
Andrew shook his head and looked down again. The cake was crumbling and he brought a morsel to his mouth. “Levinson. I was sent to Ripper.”
“Like-like…”
“Like you,” Andrew agreed.
“Then why…?”
“Because now I belong to Warren - Meers. He’s actually seventeen, like MacDonald, but hasn’t gone up from the lower fourth as yet.” Andrew shrugged. “Ripper gave me to him and he looks after me.”
William stared at him, not in disbelief, but searching for the right words. There were so many things he wanted to know that he couldn’t find the right place to start. Eventually his tongue decided for him.
“Does it hurt,” he blurted, “like the water. Because, if it did, I couldn’t bear it.”
Andrew giggled. “Only a little. And not at all if you eat this.” He held up his fingers smeared with lumps of sticky hashish cake. “Oops,” he said and giggled again.
A sudden image of Lindsey kneeling before his brother and the look of rapture on Angelus’ face sprang into William’s mind. Before he could second guess himself, he caught the other boy’s hand and brought it to his lips then, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on Andrew’s face, licked firmly from the creases on the wrist to the top of the middle finger. There, he lingered, swirling his tongue around the tip and then sucking it into his mouth, closing his lips around it as he remembered Lindsey doing with Angelus’ cock.
The effect on Andrew was no less gratifying. The other boy leaned towards him, his mouth opening, and his breath warm and sweet from the cake. His eyes widened, growing deep and dark, and William could see a flush start to colour his cheeks. One at a time the rest Andrew’s fingers slipped into William’s mouth, and he sucked and licked his way up and down them cleaning away the sticky residue from the honey.
By the time he’d finished, the drug was starting to take effect. Unlike the laudanum which tugged him down into a deep pool of mindless dreams, this made him fly. He felt happy, carefree, he wanted to sing or possibly whirl around the room, but what he wanted most of all was to touch Andrew. Their lips met tentatively, both boys unsure. William because he had never kissed another and Andrew because he’d suddenly remembered this was Ripper’s boy he held in his arms.
And William was in his arms, pressing tightly against him, the flimsy robe he wore nothing more that a second skin through which Andrew could feel heat and the rapid thump, thump, thump of William’s heart.
“This is wrong. This is bad,” Andrew chanted between kisses.
But it didn’t feel wrong or bad. They fell backwards onto the bed and lay facing each other, their legs entwined. Andrew clasped the remains of the cake, squashing it between his fingers, hoping William would clean it off. He held it up but William, gazing at him through lowered lashes, took the hand and pressed it to his breast, smearing himself with sticky crumbs. Andrew moaned as his hand skated across silky oiled skin, his palm bumping over prominent nipples. His hips bucked forward, colliding with William’s and they began moving languidly against each other their craving for contact tempered by the euphoric effects of the drug. Their hands moved continuously, stroking and touching, and at some point Andrew began scooping up morsels of cake and popping them into William’s mouth, only for William to feed the taste back to him through kisses that tasted of pure sin.
Slowly the intensity of their encounter increased, until languid became urgent and their gasps harsh with rising desire. William pulled Andrew closer, devouring his mouth with an edge of desperation and his hand guided Andrew’s to his hip and then further back, as he said, “Show me. Show me that it doesn’t have to hurt.”
Andrew’s fingers petted and soothed, up and down, teasing William’s cleft as the boy squirmed against him. Knowing how forbidden this was and yet not able to care, he finally slipped his fingers between, searching out William’s entrance and circling it with gentle finger tips. A simple motion and he would be inside, inside where he so dreadfully wanted to be. Groaning, Andrew buried his face in William’s hair, inhaling his scent and letting the perfume take him over.
“Please, please,” William begged in Andrew’s ears, pushing back against those inquisitive fingers, his body aching for want of an intrusive touch. He would die if Andrew didn’t do it, he was sure. And then, in a flurry of howls, shrieks and flailing arms, his lover was gone.
Angelus threw Wells bodily from the room, bellowing for Lindsey to take care of him, before turning his attention to William. The boy lay sprawled on the bed, pupils huge, dark and stoned, his carefully applied make up smeared, his cock hard and leaking, his skin and the surrounding comforter covered in bits of hashish cake. It was a disaster but could have been so much worse.
Yanking William to his feet, Angelus shoved him out of the way before shaking and turning the coverlet. That done, he attacked the boy with a cloth, scrubbing away the sticky residue until not a sign of anything untoward remained. William stood passively, swaying slightly as Angelus turned and posed him to reapply oil, kohl and rouge.
“Lay on the bed,” Angelus instructed eventually. “On your back with your knees up.”
William hesitated, confused and scared, but Angelus saw none of that, just disobedience. “Do it,” he growled, “Or I will get the cane and beat you until you bleed.”
The threat was enough to send William scrambling for the bed and into the same position he had spent the afternoon, though now his cock lay limp against his thigh, his ardour destroyed by Angelus’ words.
Angelus finally noticed the faint quiver of the boy’s limbs and the way he chewed his lip with fright. William’s pupils were still dilated, but the euphoria from the small amount of hashish he had actually ingested had obviously worn off. Cursing his luck, Angelus hauled Ripper’s, thankfully primed, hookah from its corner and sat down on the edge of the bed. William stared at him, his eyes growing wider at the sight of the tortuous looking contraption and it took a few moments for Angelus to understand the problem.
“Drop your legs, boy,” he laughed. “This is only a pipe. Have you ever smoked?”
William shook his head, lowering his legs to the bed and still not really understanding what was going on.
A glowing coal from the fire lit the bowl and Angelus took a deep drag to get the hashish burning properly, and then handed the hose over to William. “Suck in a breath through this and hold it in your lungs for a long as you are able,” he instructed.
William did his best, the first attempt making him choke and forcing smoke out through his nose. The second, a smaller breath, was more successful and by the third he was starting to get high once again. Much sooner than William would have preferred, Angelus took the pipe away and retired it to the hearth to cool. William watched him, trying not to giggle as a familiar delicious buzz spread through his body. One escaped through his fingers and Angelus glanced over at him, an indulgent smile on his face
“That seems to have done the trick,” he said gently as he walked back to the bed carrying a bottle that he placed carefully on the nightstand. “Lift up again for me, lad.”
This time there was no hesitation and when Angelus pressed his thighs higher, William caught his knees against his chest, opening himself completely to Angelus’ inspection. An oiled finger brushed against his hole, circling and teasing as Andrew’s had before and William whimpered lifting his hips in encouragement. Then it breached him, moving and insistent, twisting and pushing deep into his body.
All the while Angelus spoke to him, keeping his voice low and soothing, and telling William he was good and beautiful, using his free hand to slap and stroke William’s buttocks to help him relax and accept more and then more again, until three fingers slid easily into the boy’s relaxed channel. Angelus sighed, it was done.
Pausing only to wrap lengths of scarlet silk around William’s wrists and throw another log on the fire, Angelus went to inform Ripper that his new boy was finally ready for him.