you were my greatest failure, discourse your saving song
[+] so, the following was something i wrote for that drabble post. the lovely taylor ( woven ) gave me a prompt for a buffy/angelus drabble where he sires her. it got kind of lengthy, and turned from a drabble post to a ficlet, so i thought i'd post it here. tell me what you think! :D
title. a cross and a girl named blessed
pairing. angelus/buffy ( btvs )
summary. angelus and buffy have been playing a vicious game of cat and mouse for years, now. the cat just caught the mouse.
rating. R for death of a main character, bondage, and violence. hoorah!
notes. i do not own either of these characters, no matter how often i wish i did. they belong to the cruel bastard genius that is joss whedon.
They have been playing this vicious game of cat and mouse for years. Buffy runs, he finds her, she takes off again. The chase is good - it always has made his blood boil. This time is different. This time, it's taken him five months to track her down. Ohio had been the last place he had seen Buffy. Considering the gift he had left her, it's no wonder she ran like she did. Every time he closes his eyes, he can see the stricken, sick look on Buffy's face as she walks into her room, only to find Dawn strung like some macabre present. The only thing missing had been the bow.
Buffy had to know that Angelus would find her eventually. Funny enough, her eyes are still wide with disbelief even after the hell he has put her through. More than the disbelief is the rage - such a beautiful, fiery rage that always manages to send an electric thrill to every single erogenous zone in his body.
"Come on, don't look at me like that. I spent all this time and trouble tracking you down." Buffy had made it considerably harder this time. She changed her name, got a fake social security number - everything that he knew to look for. Even beyond that, she has changed her physical appearance. It's not blonde hair that he grips now, forcing her bruised face to look up at his own. Instead, he now pulls at strands dark enough to be soot staining his fingertips. "I'm touched that you went through all this trouble. Really, I am." Something like a protest is muffled by the gag in Buffy's mouth, and Angelus cants his head as if trying to hear her. "What's that, Buff? You're going to have to speak up." If she was able, Angelus knew that Buffy would spit on him right about now. Hell, he almost wishes that he hadn't gagged her. She makes another muffled protest, but Angelus doesn't even act like he's listening now. His attention is completely engulfed by the blood that is dripping from her nose and the corner of her lips, gumming against her skin like some sweet syrup. The only thing that keeps him from dragging his tongue against the corner of her mouth is the forehead that cracks against his own nose, making him rear back with a snarl. Cool blood seeps from his own nose now, and he wipes at it with the back of his hand.
"Now, there's my girl!" Despite the pain, he barks out a laugh. "I tie up your hands - you kick, I tie up your feet - you headbutt me. Really, isn't this what got you in this ..." Angelus' voice trails off as near-black eyes roam over her broken body, courtesy of himself. "Predicament." Even if it's not true, Angelus tells himself that he wouldn't have done half the damage he had if Buffy hadn't just kept getting back up. Finally, he had to just put her down himself. And now, she's staying down.
Buffy tenses when he draws closer, but even he can hear the sound of her broken bones grinding against one another from the movement. She tries to struggle as his hands grasp either side of her face, pads of his thumbs smearing the blood and tears at her cheeks. The gesture is anything but soothing. In fact, it's downright crude. He can smell the new onslaught on tears before they even fall. "As much as I have enjoyed our game of cat and mouse, I think we both can agree that the cat has just caught the mouse." The whimpering sound she makes unravels him completely, and he slams forward.
He doesn't change at first. It's not the razor sharp sensation of fangs that she feels. Rather, it's the crushing impact of human teeth. At first, the flawless skin of her neck doesn't give against the bluntness of his teeth. It's not until he bares down even harder, going as far as to shake his head side to side like some rabid dog, that he feels the intense warmth bloom across his tongue. Her muffled screams of agony fill the room around them, and Angelus is suddenly lost in it all. He can no longer hold back, and his features shift, blunt teeth elongating into fangs that finally rupture her artery.
Grudgingly, Angelus pulls away from her neck, only realizing when he looks down at it the kind of damage he has done. Blood has cascaded from the wound, staining her white blouse with a brilliant shade of contrasting red. With one arm cradling her head, he brings the other to his own bloody mouth, and drags one of his fangs down the center. A fierce fist of arousal clenches at his abdomen when he shoves his own wounded arm against her mouth. At first, she struggles. Still, it takes only a moment for instinct to take over, and she begins sucking at the wound viciously. Buffy is not quiet as she takes long, wet drags of his blood, and Angelus can only smile at the lewdness of it all. Once he is certain that she has had enough, he pulls his arm away, and watches her nearly choke on all the blood she has taken.
Finally, her movement ceases all together. Those brilliant eyes that have always captivated him go still, then stare at the ceiling.
If this is a play, then her last, keening breath is the dénouement.
title. a cross and a girl named blessed
pairing. angelus/buffy ( btvs )
summary. angelus and buffy have been playing a vicious game of cat and mouse for years, now. the cat just caught the mouse.
rating. R for death of a main character, bondage, and violence. hoorah!
notes. i do not own either of these characters, no matter how often i wish i did. they belong to the cruel bastard genius that is joss whedon.
They have been playing this vicious game of cat and mouse for years. Buffy runs, he finds her, she takes off again. The chase is good - it always has made his blood boil. This time is different. This time, it's taken him five months to track her down. Ohio had been the last place he had seen Buffy. Considering the gift he had left her, it's no wonder she ran like she did. Every time he closes his eyes, he can see the stricken, sick look on Buffy's face as she walks into her room, only to find Dawn strung like some macabre present. The only thing missing had been the bow.
Buffy had to know that Angelus would find her eventually. Funny enough, her eyes are still wide with disbelief even after the hell he has put her through. More than the disbelief is the rage - such a beautiful, fiery rage that always manages to send an electric thrill to every single erogenous zone in his body.
"Come on, don't look at me like that. I spent all this time and trouble tracking you down." Buffy had made it considerably harder this time. She changed her name, got a fake social security number - everything that he knew to look for. Even beyond that, she has changed her physical appearance. It's not blonde hair that he grips now, forcing her bruised face to look up at his own. Instead, he now pulls at strands dark enough to be soot staining his fingertips. "I'm touched that you went through all this trouble. Really, I am." Something like a protest is muffled by the gag in Buffy's mouth, and Angelus cants his head as if trying to hear her. "What's that, Buff? You're going to have to speak up." If she was able, Angelus knew that Buffy would spit on him right about now. Hell, he almost wishes that he hadn't gagged her. She makes another muffled protest, but Angelus doesn't even act like he's listening now. His attention is completely engulfed by the blood that is dripping from her nose and the corner of her lips, gumming against her skin like some sweet syrup. The only thing that keeps him from dragging his tongue against the corner of her mouth is the forehead that cracks against his own nose, making him rear back with a snarl. Cool blood seeps from his own nose now, and he wipes at it with the back of his hand.
"Now, there's my girl!" Despite the pain, he barks out a laugh. "I tie up your hands - you kick, I tie up your feet - you headbutt me. Really, isn't this what got you in this ..." Angelus' voice trails off as near-black eyes roam over her broken body, courtesy of himself. "Predicament." Even if it's not true, Angelus tells himself that he wouldn't have done half the damage he had if Buffy hadn't just kept getting back up. Finally, he had to just put her down himself. And now, she's staying down.
Buffy tenses when he draws closer, but even he can hear the sound of her broken bones grinding against one another from the movement. She tries to struggle as his hands grasp either side of her face, pads of his thumbs smearing the blood and tears at her cheeks. The gesture is anything but soothing. In fact, it's downright crude. He can smell the new onslaught on tears before they even fall. "As much as I have enjoyed our game of cat and mouse, I think we both can agree that the cat has just caught the mouse." The whimpering sound she makes unravels him completely, and he slams forward.
He doesn't change at first. It's not the razor sharp sensation of fangs that she feels. Rather, it's the crushing impact of human teeth. At first, the flawless skin of her neck doesn't give against the bluntness of his teeth. It's not until he bares down even harder, going as far as to shake his head side to side like some rabid dog, that he feels the intense warmth bloom across his tongue. Her muffled screams of agony fill the room around them, and Angelus is suddenly lost in it all. He can no longer hold back, and his features shift, blunt teeth elongating into fangs that finally rupture her artery.
Grudgingly, Angelus pulls away from her neck, only realizing when he looks down at it the kind of damage he has done. Blood has cascaded from the wound, staining her white blouse with a brilliant shade of contrasting red. With one arm cradling her head, he brings the other to his own bloody mouth, and drags one of his fangs down the center. A fierce fist of arousal clenches at his abdomen when he shoves his own wounded arm against her mouth. At first, she struggles. Still, it takes only a moment for instinct to take over, and she begins sucking at the wound viciously. Buffy is not quiet as she takes long, wet drags of his blood, and Angelus can only smile at the lewdness of it all. Once he is certain that she has had enough, he pulls his arm away, and watches her nearly choke on all the blood she has taken.
Finally, her movement ceases all together. Those brilliant eyes that have always captivated him go still, then stare at the ceiling.
If this is a play, then her last, keening breath is the dénouement.