Pressie for snowpuppies!!
HAPPY (BELATED) BIRTHDAY TO MY WONDERFRIEND SNOWPUPPIES
It was Snowy's birthday on Monday and I was a very bad girl and didn't get this finished on time. But I love her very, very much.
Title: Experiment
Author: kitty_poker1
Pairing: Xander/Angel(us)
Fandom: BtVS
Disclaimer: They're not mine. Not a single one. In this case, I'm not altogether sorry. All credit belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN and associated companies and individuals responsible for BtVS
Rating: R for torture and mention of drugs
Warning: This is not a fun fic. Those of you who know me know I write Spander fluff. This time I didn't. It'll probably be the last time I stray
Xander heard a familiar snap. Fuck, there went another one.
Snap, crackle, pop. Bones snapped, skin crackled at the touch of a live flame and joints popped out their sockets with just a firm tug. He’d learned that the hard way over the last -- hour, day, year? Not that he was counting. There didn't seem much point. He wasn't going anywhere.
He idly wondered when he was going to die. Couldn’t be long now. He was almost looking forward to it. He could feel the pain scratching urgently behind the heroin barrier and knew it would soon break free and overwhelm him. At least, it would if he didn’t get another armful of the precious drug soon. Funny, he’d always been a just say no kind of guy.
But he’d already been told there was no more ‘H’ coming. It was an experiment, his captor had explained patiently, to see what happened when he finally came out of his drug-induced numbness and felt it. Felt it all crashing down.
He could almost admire the artistry. He wasn’t surprised his companion had such an intimate knowledge of just how much damage a human body could sustain before it collapsed completely. He’d had hundreds of years of hands-on experience. But the mental torture -- now, that was something special.
Dragging open a puffy, bloodied eye, he looked up at the dark figure standing beside him. “Why?” The word emerged scratchily from a throat swollen and raw from the screams he’d sent bouncing around the apartment before Angel had pulled that blessed needle from his coat pocket.
“Why what, lover?” asked Angel.
Xander winced as he remembered other occasions when he’d been called that by the other man, the endearment whispered into his ear as he was fucked in the very bed he was now chained to. But this wasn’t that man. Wasn’t Angel. “Thought … loved me.”
Angelus furrowed his brow. “You know, so did I. Turns out my demon had other ideas and it's calling the shots now.” He giggled, eyes brilliant with the gleam of insanity, then leaned forward and murmured confidingly, “It’s all your fault, you know. You shouldn’t have made me so damn happy.”
It was Snowy's birthday on Monday and I was a very bad girl and didn't get this finished on time. But I love her very, very much.
Title: Experiment
Author: kitty_poker1
Pairing: Xander/Angel(us)
Fandom: BtVS
Disclaimer: They're not mine. Not a single one. In this case, I'm not altogether sorry. All credit belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN and associated companies and individuals responsible for BtVS
Rating: R for torture and mention of drugs
Warning: This is not a fun fic. Those of you who know me know I write Spander fluff. This time I didn't. It'll probably be the last time I stray
Xander heard a familiar snap. Fuck, there went another one.
Snap, crackle, pop. Bones snapped, skin crackled at the touch of a live flame and joints popped out their sockets with just a firm tug. He’d learned that the hard way over the last -- hour, day, year? Not that he was counting. There didn't seem much point. He wasn't going anywhere.
He idly wondered when he was going to die. Couldn’t be long now. He was almost looking forward to it. He could feel the pain scratching urgently behind the heroin barrier and knew it would soon break free and overwhelm him. At least, it would if he didn’t get another armful of the precious drug soon. Funny, he’d always been a just say no kind of guy.
But he’d already been told there was no more ‘H’ coming. It was an experiment, his captor had explained patiently, to see what happened when he finally came out of his drug-induced numbness and felt it. Felt it all crashing down.
He could almost admire the artistry. He wasn’t surprised his companion had such an intimate knowledge of just how much damage a human body could sustain before it collapsed completely. He’d had hundreds of years of hands-on experience. But the mental torture -- now, that was something special.
Dragging open a puffy, bloodied eye, he looked up at the dark figure standing beside him. “Why?” The word emerged scratchily from a throat swollen and raw from the screams he’d sent bouncing around the apartment before Angel had pulled that blessed needle from his coat pocket.
“Why what, lover?” asked Angel.
Xander winced as he remembered other occasions when he’d been called that by the other man, the endearment whispered into his ear as he was fucked in the very bed he was now chained to. But this wasn’t that man. Wasn’t Angel. “Thought … loved me.”
Angelus furrowed his brow. “You know, so did I. Turns out my demon had other ideas and it's calling the shots now.” He giggled, eyes brilliant with the gleam of insanity, then leaned forward and murmured confidingly, “It’s all your fault, you know. You shouldn’t have made me so damn happy.”