Lar ||| Buffy & Angel

Bruised 2
by Lar

Email: HERE
Rating: NC-17 (slash, language)
Pairing: Aus/X
Summary: Please Sir, I want some more...
Disclaimer: I hereby state that the characters contained herein and forthwith...oh screw it. Not mine.
Spoilers: only for "Bruised" which you might want to read first. Set in S2.
Author's Notes: These two are just too much fun to leave them alone. Thanks a'plenty to those who liked the first enough to ask for another encounter: Kita, Sandy, Oni, the Spike. I live to serve.
Especially for Donna tho, because she cheered me up when things were black and grim and hadn't even a hint of a luscious vampire to shag anywhere in them. All better now, sweetie. Thank you for everything.

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The world moves on.

Xander admits this to himself, even finds relief in it whenever he's taken with the cold sweat of hysteria over what happened in the alley. And that thought invades his mind about as often as he breathes in or out every day.

So the rest of the world moves on and Xander finds that he is stuck. Stuck with the thought of feelings evoked by that time in the alley - the fear and the want mixing together into something that is like poisoned candy. Sweet and deadly. One hit and he is addicted.

Wondering briefly if he really does have some kind of death wish, and not even bothering to wander back over the 'does-this-make-me-gay' tracks that his train of thought embarks on every other hour, he finds himself on the outside of the old apartment building where Angel lived.

Angelus. //Keep it straight// he reminds himself.

Then his feet are carrying him inside, down the stairs, like somehow Angelus tied a string around his dick and now he's being reeled in. Like some kind of fish. //Angelfish//

Heart thudding in his throat, Xander leans against the door, forehead making a little thump, eyes closed and burning as he just stands there like a wino on a really cheap high. He's sweating again even though it's cool in the basement hallway. His brain, which has chosen this moment to conveniently replay that instant when he'd been brought to his knees by the cold hand on his cock, seems to be on a never-ending loop. Against the black of his inner eyelids, Xander sees his own personal porno tape starring him and his amazing blow job technique.

Now he's flushed and shaking, and hey, he's halfway to hard. Big surprise there, huh?

With a start he realizes he's not alone in the hallway anymore and he's almost afraid to open his eyes. But he stands up straight, everything in slow motion, and says in a carefully casual tone, "Deadboy."

When there's no reply right away, Xander is amazed by the thrill of *loss* he feels. He has all kinds of jangles going on in his legs; tingles like pins and needles, and the weak thing that makes him afraid to take a step because he doesn't want to fall on his ass. Even if no one is there.

But when he turns around, still moving in slow-mo, he gets this sweeping thing working on his vision so he sees the dark shadow evolve from a blur into full features. Dark dark eyes with a tiny sliver of gold on the edges. Pale face, perfect skin, heavy brow. Full lips.

Not smiling.

A violent wave of deja-vu rolls over Xander as he finds himself once again with his back against the wall and the vampire blocking his retreat. And he discovers he has lost all the things he wants to say. Things about why he is there. What he thinks about the man in front of him. Things that almost make Xander feel much better about everything that's happened. All gone in the heat of the stare.

Xander misses the ever present smirk, misses it very much suddenly. The total lack of expression on Angelus' face is giving him a major wiggins, and it's far too late to do anything about it. But he's excruciatingly aware of the weight of the cross he wears under his shirt this time, and of the length of himself as he gets harder by the second. He wonders if he's becoming Xander the Amazing Fear Junkie along with Xander, King of the Death Wish.

"Nothing to say?" he croaks out. A bead of sweat gathers its weight and rolls down Xander's temple. Angelus' eyes break away and track the tiny droplet on its course from hairline to cheekbone to curve of jaw, and with a motion of his hand that's too fast to see, he's lifting the salty wetness onto a fingertip. Eyes locked on Xander's again, Angelus brings the finger up to the boy's mouth and rubs it onto his lips.

And it's like an electric shock without the heat, the touch of that finger to his skin, and the hint of moisture bringing back vivid memories of the last time they were together and a heavy thud in his groin says his whole body remembers, not just his brain. Xander isn't even aware when he licks the salt from his lips but he sees Angelus watching him do it nonetheless. He swallows thickly and opens his mouth but there's nothing to say.

So Angelus says it for him. "You're back." Still no expression. Statement of fact.

Xander feels better for some reason. He's giddy, he realizes. He feels a kind of relief that something is happening. Anything. Breaking the monotony that has been his life for as long as he can remember. So he straightens his shoulders and with his old tone of voice says, "I see you're a master of stating the obvious." Cocky grin to go with it.

"And you have an interesting way of choosing your words, boy." Bigger grin from Angelus, and it makes Xander's curl up and go away. There's suddenly much less oxygen in the hall, which is odd because he's the only one there using any.

"Again I find myself in a... position to teach you something about thinking before speaking." Angelus steps up in his face and Xander smells something on him that's shockingly clean, as if he just stepped out of a shower. It's so out of place that it makes his head reel. When their bodies make contact, they're both hard. Xander is absurdly pleased to know that he's not the only one jonesing on the vibes between them, although some little voice way at the back of his mind reminds him that he's playing a very dangerous game with something that's more excited by the prospect of sucking him dry than it is by fucking him. And that those two acts are not necessarily mutually exclusive. And that the cross around his neck is so fragile as to be laughable.

As is his neck, for that matter.

Xander's eyes flutter down to the full mouth that's hovering close to his own and he can't look away. Waits for the repeat of the bruising grip on his face and arms. Waits even more eagerly for the kiss that goes with it. Doesn't realize he's leaning forward in anticipation until his vision blurs and he feels that cool silken flesh on his own mouth. Swallows a groan when the mouth turns out to be pliant and willing and opens to his tentative tongue. Leaves his hands at his sides while he just absorbs the feelings that go along with the act of kissing: soft, cool, wet. And also suddenly hot, too as there's some reciprocation from Angelus. Pressure that grows stronger, presses Xander's head back against the door as the tongue invades his mouth and the soft part of the kiss is long gone.

Not caring that they are in the hallway of an apartment building, which had to have some other tenants around, live ones who would probably be less than pleased at the idea of two men doing this kind of thing in the hallway. Not caring about who is actually pinning him to the door with his mouth and his body. Not caring too much about anything except the rampaging fire that is burning in his head and his chest and yeah, in his cock. And only caring about getting more, right now, because everything that's wrong about what he's doing and who he's doing it with is just adding to the way he feels and making that much sharper. Like sugar on strawberries - sweet made sweeter.

So when Angelus pulls his head back and does that staring thing again, Xander decides he doesn't care about that either and reaches his hand over to test the doorknob. Subtle he ain't, but it gets the point across that he wants to go inside. For whatever outcome. Doesn't want it to be in the hallway because for once he'd like to inject a little privacy into what passes for his life now.

Because he wants to be on the bed. And he wants them both naked this time.

Almost like he's reading all of Xander's thoughts, and not just the obvious ones that have to do with trying to open the door, Angelus reaches out, puts his hand over Xander's and uses the boy's hand to turn the knob all the way. Pushes himself against the boy with a predator's leer. The door opens smoothly and Xander backpedals a little to maintain his balance. Looks around at the dim room.

Dust over everything. Not a lot but enough to be obvious that no one's been in there for a while. Slightly musty smell but stronger over that is the tang of smoky incense. Not much in the furniture department but there's the bed, big as life. Bigger in fact. Xander decides that everything about Angel //Angelus, get it straight// is of the large and impressive variety. Flushes at the memory of how accurate that is.

"You don't seriously believe I'd stay here, do you?" Angelus still has a hold of Xander's hand and shows no inclination of letting go in the near future. It's not like holding hands, no young lovers sharing affection. It's more like...holding a leash.

Xander shakes his head no, still looking over at the bed. Moves away from the door and into the room, each step a little shaky and unsure, but there's none of the heart stopping panic that he probably should be feeling. His heart is thudding in his chest, though, the rhythm echoed in his cock that now feels almost painfully erect and he's sure there's a telltale wet spot on the front of his thin khaki pants. And the way Angelus is holding onto his hand is making him jumpy again, like the way he was in the hallway. Like he'll fall down if he tries to move.

"So tell me why you're here, Xander." The voice is so quiet that the click of the door closing almost covers it. Xander jumps at little at the sound of the click - trap closing on the bunny. Somehow this all went rapidly from a grope in the hallway to being alone in the near dark with a vampire. Which is what he wanted, right? But still.

"I don't know, " slips out of his mouth and hangs in between them like the incense, there but not solid. He tugs his hand free and then doesn't know what to do with it. So he crosses his arms over his chest and looks down at the floor. Sees his own ratty sneakers touching toes with shiny black boots.

"I think we both know why." Pause. "I think you're just afraid to say it." Big hands suddenly grab Xander's shirt and pull him up close. "Say it, boy."

But Xander is speechless. In all his heated thoughts of what might happen if he came here, this was never one of them. The shame of saying it is too great, there's no way he can do it, he can barely acknowledge it in his head let alone utter the confirmation. So he stutters a little, nothing coming out but some harsh dry syllables that made no sense.

"Let's see if we can get you working on the right answer." And Xander finds himself being pulled over towards the bed he had been so eager to see earlier. Tossed onto it like a toy. He lays there stunned, arms over his head, legs spread in a sprawl. Staring up at the other man looming over him as he strips off his jacket and pulls his shirt from his waistband. Unbuttons it efficiently, baring a smooth expanse of muscled chest that Xander finds himself wanting to lick. Angelus' erection is evident through the fabric of his trousers, more so from this angle that Xander is afforded. He wants to taste that again, too, licks his lips in anticipation.

He half expects to see Angelus strip completely, but that's not happening. Instead he looks down at Xander and rubs a hand absently over his own chest. Cranes his head a little to the side as if considering where to take the first bite. Says instead, "Have you remembered what you came here for yet, Xander?"

Doesn't really want an answer right now, apparently, because before Xander can even try to form a reply, Angelus is stepping closer to the bed, leaning over, hands on either side of Xander's head. And then it's just one hand leaning because the other one has a hold of Xander's wrist and he's bringing it up to touch that bare chest. He's rubbing Xander's hand over the hard expanse of it and Xander is just hypnotized at the sight of his suddenly dark hand touching white skin. Now the hand is being directed lower, past tight abdominal muscles, then fingers bumping over the waistband of the black trousers, finally being pushed onto the swelling beneath. Xander's hand clasps it in a reflex he has no control over and then his mind goes fuzzy.

"Is this what you came here for, boy?" The voice is soft and low and deceptively unthreatening. And when did Angelus let go of his hand anyway? He's holding onto the huge cock now of his own volition. Funny, the realization doesn't make Xander want to let go. He even manages to find some saliva in his dry, dry mouth and answer.

"Yeah." Simple. Direct. True.

Angelus grins again, but Xander misses it because he's still transfixed by the sight of his hand right *there* and how big that thing feels under the layers of cloth that separate his warm skin from the cold of the vampire's. He wants to see it again, the way it looks with the skin covering it, the way the tip just peers out from the folds before he's completely and absolutely hard, so hard he can't get any bigger, so huge that he barely fits in Xander's mouth. His own cock gives a jerk at that thought - having Angelus in his mouth again. Having those hands on him again.

So when Angelus lets the weight of his body fall onto Xander's with excruciating slowness, Xander is already wishing that he was naked, that they both were naked, because he wants skin to skin, all over, chests and legs and cocks all rubbing against each other without any of the bother of clothing between them. And somehow he knows that they are going to end up that way, eventually, that he'll have what he wants but not on his own timetable. It's all up to the other man now, and part of Xander is relieved. It's so much easier to forget about the things he is supposed to be doing when it's really so out of his control now. Let's just forget that he walked himself over here on legs that weren't being forced by anything stronger than his own raw need. He's here now, in the lion's den, and he's about to be eaten alive.

And then, oh God, thank you, that mouth in on his again and all Xander can think of is how much he wants it to keep on kissing him. Firm lips cover his, cool tongue exploring, sweeping over teeth to tickle the roof of his mouth and engage his own tongue in a willing dance. No copper taste this time and that's good, because Xander wants to do some exploring of his own. His tongue finds Angelus' teeth, licking the blunt canines as he wonders what would happen if Angelus vamped out, if he found his tongue in a mouth that had too many sharp edges. What would happen if he cut himself on those razorlike fangs and started to bleed? Would Angelus keep right on doing what he was doing now, kissing Xander while his big hands held Xander's face and his hips ground into the boy's own? Or would the drop of blood cause him to go feral, to suck Xander's tongue even harder than he was now, drawing the blood out faster, moving down to the neck where he would use those fangs to open an artery and drink every ounce of life out of Xander while he laid on the vampire's bed wanting him to do it, wanting it all as long as those hands and that mouth were still on him...

Abruptly Angelus rolls off of Xander, leaving him panting and aching and confused. He finds himself hauled to his feet in the next moment, rough hands tearing away the shirt he wears and then the pants. A cool hand brushes over his hip, slides up the length of his cock and gathers the slickness that coats it before running up his belly, leaving a shiny trail behind it. Xander's nipples are already hard when the fingers reach them to circle and tease and circle again. Then the hand is gone but the damage is done; Xander is shaking like a fever victim, brain on overload, nothing beyond the need to touch and grab and suck getting through his circuits. He vaguely recognizes the sound of a zipper and realizes that Angelus is undressing, that's why the hands left him there alone, and he's OK with that. Because it means he's going to get his skin to skin wish.

Glancing down at himself he finds his cock purple with sustained lust. He has no idea how long it's been from the time he got hard in the hallway until now, but he's willing to wager that it's about twice as long as he's ever managed to be this excited before and not come. He's liberally coated in the pre-come oozing from the swollen head and there's drops of it caught in the dark tangle of hair at the base. He realizes he's standing there in a pile of his own clothes, sneakers still on his feet and he hastily removes them, cock bouncing with the movements. He turns his head to see where the other man is and finds that he's been standing there, arms crossed, fully naked. Watching.

Xander feels himself head into a full body flush, blinks a few times and then stops trying to pretend that he doesn't want to take the same luxury and see every inch of the vampire's body. So he does, avoiding the face because he's still not entirely comfortable with that part, the part that sees and speaks. And bites. He moves on to the broad shoulders, slimmer hips and there, at the base of the tiny trail of black hair that leads from the navel, the thing he really wanted to see again. Arching up, incredibly pale for the way it's swollen and hard, skin stretched taunt over every inch of it. And there's a good many inches of it, Xander notes with a mixture of awe and fear and lust. That's as far as he can go, he's transfixed by the cock itself and the small drops of fluid gathered on the head of it. Realizes he's staring openmouthed so he snaps his jaw shut with an audible click and forces himself to look up past the smooth expanse of alabaster skin of belly and chest and neck to the dark eyes again. There's a quirk of a smile on the lips, he notes as his gaze passes them, and a little more gold to the dark eyes than there was in the hallway when he was much closer and they were much less...naked.

The demon was watching, too.

Xander waits for some nasty remark about the way he was gawking at the vampire's dick - as if he'd never seen one before, as if he hadn't been on his knees with it in his mouth not too very long ago - but tonight seems to be a low vocabulary evening. No arguments from Xander for once. His brain is in low gear as well.

"You want to take that off?" asks Angelus abruptly, still standing with his arms crossed, ancient god in repose, the state of his clothing and his cock not of the slightest concern to him.

"Huh?" is all Xander can say, and then he kicks himself mentally. King of the Cretins yet again. "Take what off?" Better, still stupid, but better. He's clueless because he's not wearing anything, not even socks, and Angelus had taken the rest off of him already.

So he flinches when Angelus walks a step closer and reaches out for his throat. He holds him, not tight enough to bruise but not within the 'I can still swallow' margin either. And that's when he remembers the cross he's wearing. Feels the chain as it's lifted from his neck with the hand that isn't making oxygen an issue at the moment and then there's a small but painful burning sensation as the chain abrades his skin before it breaks and it goes flying along with its golden companion. He doesn't hear it hit the floor, but then he doesn't hear much of anything over the sound of his pulse thudding in his ears. The hand on his throat doesn't relax its grip and Xander gets that rush of adrenaline again that makes him break out in a sweat, makes his cock throb once heavily, makes it almost impossible to not swallow even though he knows he can't make all the muscles work to do it. Tries anyway and gets a painful aborted response. And a little squeeze that *does* feel like it's bruise worthy. And why did he think he would get out of this without it being about pain and pressure?

He hears a growl that makes every part of skin on his body try to crawl off, goosebumps raising the hair on his arms and neck, and he sees the face in front of him change from human to not. "You don't play games with me, boy," rasps out and Xander tries to nod. Can't, but hopes the effort is worth something. Decides it must be because the mask is back, smooth face that everyone finds so handsome, face out of a dream.

"You have so much to learn, Xander," Angelus says now, voice back to that calm tone that must have lulled a thousand victims into a sense of security, a feeling of safety, a voice that might have whispered words of sex and false love into many a maiden's willing ear. A voice that even now Xander was coming to think of as the safe mode, although it was anything but safe. It was just the pre-show. Play time.

"I'm not big on the learning curve," Xander whispers, his voice cut off by the pressure on his throat. "Of course, the lack of oxygen might have something to do with it in this case."

That earns him a smile and finally, blessed air, which he gulps in gratefully a few times before letting himself relax into a normal in and out pattern. Resists the urge to rub his neck where it hurts from the cuts and the bruising grip. Realizes with something like astonishment that at no time during his brush with the demon did his cock decide it was time to go do the lay down and rest thing.

"We'll start with simple directions. Get on the bed."

Moving slowly, pulse rate way higher than it was when he thought he was going to die, Xander obeys and sits on the edge of the bed. When Angelus walks over closer, he's back at eye level with that pale length. He licks his lips and looks up to see the arms are crossed again, the eyes dark and staring into his as if waiting for him. Angelus uncrosses his arms and reaches out to caress Xander's head, fingers ruffling the dark hair. Without any need for direction after all, he leans forward, one hand taking firm hold of the offering in front of him and guiding it into his open mouth.

It's different this time, he feels like he can make the effort to explore every part of it, taste the skin that ripples under his tongue and feel how it's different from the satin of the head. He can recognize a hundred different patterns in the veins that cover the shaft and he lets himself lick all the way down to where his hand grips it, his nose almost in the black wiry curls there. When he licks the wetness from the tip, he lets himself savor the salt of it, different from how it will taste later when the fluid is much more abundant and not clear at all.

Eyes open, Xander sees the other hand that isn't tangled in his own hair resting on Angelus's hip, fingers slightly curled, relaxed. He remembers the feeling of that hand around his own cock, the cool contrast with the heat he was radiating then, is still putting out in waves of desire and need and excitement now. Resists touching himself because he knows he'll just go at the first stoke and doesn't want to be done yet. Not by a long shot.

He hears a sigh from above and then the free hand joins the other in his hair. They force him to look up and he sees those eyes on him as Angelus says, "See, you're learning already. I didn't even have to tell you what to do. Ready for a reward?"

Xander releases the cock from his lips and nods, although he's reluctant to stop what he is enjoying; there's an odd feeling of control when he's got his mouth wrapped around the other man. But oh, the thought of a reward is exciting and terrifying in its possibilities.

"Lie back." And Xander obeys with alacrity when those hands leave his hair, sliding his body back so that he's lying fully on the bed. He watches with wide eyes as Angelus climbs onto the bed as well and proceeds to kneel over him, knees parted so that Xander's closed legs lie between them. His heart revs up into triple time as he feels the firm hand close over his cock, absolutely the best thing he's ever felt as it slides so easily up the length to engulf the head in its cool grip. His eyes flutter closed as he tries to enjoy the sensation and still keep himself from coming right then and there. It's a close thing, too, and he has no doubt that it's going to be a very short battle.

"Look at me!" Angelus' voice is very sharp and very loud, and Xander jumps when he hears it, the head of his cock slipping slightly in the other man's hand. He moans and makes himself look right at Angelus, right into the eyes that are back to brown and gold, man and demon, and oh, that's all it takes. He comes with a groan, right in that grasping hand, hot liquid running back down onto his belly and sliding off onto the bed. The hand never moves, keeps its grip on him and Xander pumps his hips helplessly into it as the waves roll through him and finally stop. He finds he's biting his lip and he's flushed with the orgasm and the embarrassment of it. He knows there's a pink flood of color over him from head to toe, he can feel it. But the expression on Angelus's face never changes. He looks vaguely pleased, and if his mouth was closed there would be a smile there. However at the moment it's open, lips parted as if he was ready to speak. Or kiss.

And that sends another wave of intoxicating feelings rushing through Xander, who tries to sit up. Not happening, though, because his cock is freed abruptly when Angelus pushes him down onto the bed again none too gently. Bares his teeth, still blunt and human, and growls, less human. "Lie still."

Then he lowers himself onto the boy and Xander gets the up close view of that mouth again before he realizes that this is exactly what he'd been waiting for, hoping for, dreaming of - skin to skin, his twitching cock pressed against the raging hardness that he remembers, his fluids and Angelus' making things down there as slippery as if they'd been drizzled with oil. Hands in Xander's hair again and the mouth on his as hips begin to move in a maddeningly slow rhythm. The cool tongue licks across his lips and dips into his mouth in time with the pumping of the hips that are making him writhe up against them. He wraps his arms around those hips and his hands find themselves on tightly clenched muscles that ripple as they move together. It's almost too much sensation for him, kisses and muscles and the weight of Angelus pressing him down into the dusty coverlet, and the slick slipperiness right on and over and under his cock as it twitches and jerks and swells back to hardness already.

The rewards of being seventeen and having never had sex before are suddenly rich and plentiful.

Xander clasps his arms tighter around Angelus, lets his fingers sweep over the curve of that firm ass before running up to the small of his back and pressing him down onto himself harder. Xander hears familiar noises coming from Angelus again, growls vibrating into his chest, sighs into his mouth. Then hands are turning Xander's face to the side and he knows that the demon is coming out again, feels the bump of ridged forehead against his ear as he whimpers once, too fast to stop himself. He's holding on tighter than before, arms locked in fear and excitement, eyes closed, hips still working although they've both slowed down. Now it's more of a glide than anything else, long measured slide down and up, and he can feel the skin on the other cock slipping less and less now that it's reached its maximum engorgement.

Xander is sure he's going to die now, and almost doesn't care. He's going to go on his own terms. He chose this method of death as surely as any suicide chose their gun or pills or the rope for their hangman's noose. He's taken a step no one else would have taken, faced the beast in its lair. And it is a beast, no matter how beautiful the mask it wears for all to see. And strangely enough it is the beast that makes Xander thrum, calls to him in a way the other Angel never had. Here's something that not even the Slayer will face, and Xander has it, has him. Or maybe it's that he belongs to the beast, and that's also a good thing in Xander's mind. Belonging to him would be fine, even if it ended in the next few minutes, ended in the shattering of orgasm and the draining of blood. Belonging was what he wanted. Needed.

But the mouth at his neck isn't biting, despite the scrape of fangs that Xander feels on the skin there, right there where his pulse is beating. It's just there, and Angelus is tonguing the artery as he thrusts against Xander, and the growls are getting louder as he gets closer to his peak. Xander makes a sound, too, when he realizes he's not going to die yet, not right now, and the sound is strangled and part relief, part tears. It makes Angelus take his mouth away and chuckle.

"Do you think this is the only place to mark you, boy?" he says into the shell of Xander's ear. "Do you think I'll leave the brand where anyone can see it?"

He slides himself down Xander's body then, just a little so that his cock slips from its usual rhythm, and Xander can see the face of the demon that's fucking itself on his body. He shudders all over when the face dips down again and the tip of the tongue brushes his nipple, followed by the scrape of a fang. He knows that one drew blood because the tongue is back again and lapping it up. He lifts his head to see; small scrape, tiny beads of blood that disappear on the pink tongue. His hands fall off of Angelus' body to grasp the sheets. They feel gritty between his fingers but he squeezes even harder when his other nipple gets the same lick and suck treatment. His hips are still, his whole body is rigid, but Angelus is still stroking himself over and over on Xander's body. If the vampire intends to bleed him to death one scratch at a time, he'll go insane from the feel of it long before he dies.

The ache is building in his cock again, though, and Xander thinks he might just be ready to come again. Lets his hips begin their pushing despite his momentary fear just seconds ago. Realizes he is grunting with each thrust and that each grunt is a word.

"Yes...god...yes...now..."

The demon is growling with him, and says, "Look at me" again in that same dark and animalistic voice. So Xander locks his stare on the golden eyes and almost screams when the thrusts get faster, faster, harder than before and it's like liquid satin, friction creating the heat that the vampire's body cannot as his hips piston and drive, the juices between them pooling and molten.

Then Xander does scream, loud and long, body arching up off the bed in its release, joined moments later by Angelus who presses his face down hard on the boy's neck and roars, hands gripping Xander's arms as he keeps himself from biting, from tearing open smooth skin and drinking in the hot blood he can smell there. Instead he pushes himself down onto the body that's still quivering beneath him and spreads the thighs that are tense but fall open easily at his touch. Gasping, Xander sits up as he feels Angelus' hands parting his legs and sees the demon's face leering back at him.

"I told you, boy, there are other places to mark you." And then there's a huge daggerlike pain in his leg as the fangs pierce his skin, finding the artery there with the precision and ease of a skilled hunter. Xander makes a groaning sound that is remarkably similar to the ones he was making earlier in the throes of ecstasy. The coverlet he has been gripping gets pulled up to his mouth so he can bite down hard on it and muffle the noise. He tries to think about the dusty taste it delivers but it's no good; all he can think about is the pain of the penetration, the feeling of loss as his blood leaves his body, the idea that he is going to die after all.

Angelus drinks just enough to temper his appetite, though, and then stops. He licks the wound to help it heal but not enough to prevent a scar there. Marked. Branded. Possessed.

When he comes up from between Xander's thighs, his demon is sated for the moment, his human face back. He pulls the dirty coverlet from the boy's hands and mouth, pushing him down onto his back again. "Relax," he says, back to the safe-voice, but it's just not quite working this time.

Xander laughs unpleasantly. "Relax? Not on the top ten list of things to do when a vampire's drinking your blood." Pauses to swallow and then asks. "Are you done? With the blood I mean."

"What about being done with everything else?" Angelus is lounging on the bed beside him now, and reaches over to tweak Xander's nipple just to see him squirm. "Do you think we're done with everything else, Xander?"

"I'm thinking that there is no right answer to that question," he pants as the hands travels lower, across his sticky belly and down to his finally quiescent cock. It twitches a little but nothing else. Even 17 year old boys need a little down time apparently. A quick glance at Angelus confirms the fact that vampires, possibly of any age, do not.

The cool hand continues to stroke Xander and the feeling is one of almost-pain. Xander is not surprised, therefore, when it seems he needs less downtime than one might expect. He's swelling just enough to make it obvious to them both that this could go on for a while. Angelus strokes and rubs and coaxes Xander into a healthy and extremely enflamed erection while Xander himself squirms and wriggles and gasps on the coverlet. When he's as hard as he can possibly be, and he wonders what new tricks he's about to learn, Angelus lets him go and rolls off the bed onto his feet.

"Your final lesson for the day, boy. You're never done until I say you are. Get dressed. Go home." Angelus is shrugging into his shirt as he says this. Xander cannot be sure he heard correctly, but is at least in possession of enough self preservation to not say anything at all, despite the black thoughts that are gathering in his head. He sighs, though, a huge gust of air that makes the vampire turn to look over his shoulder. He drops his gaze to the angry red head of Xander's cock and smiles. "Take care of that before you go."

This time the words blurt out of him, impossible to stop. "You got it that way, *you* take care of it." And he gets up off the bed with a grunt of irritation. His body is sore all over, from the cuts on his neck left by the broken chain and the vague pain in his throat from where it was gripped by the bruising hand, to the mark on his thigh and his overworked dick. It's too much to take, that final tossed off comment bent on humiliating him, and he's had more than enough abuse for one day. Xander has reached his quota, thank you very much.

He finds himself slammed into the wall in a flash, hard forearm pressing into his already complaining throat, other hand gripping his cock painfully. The hand gives a few hard tugs and a tight pinch at the head that makes him shout, and when Angelus says, "You sure about that, boy? You want me to finish this for you?" Xander growls back.

And that earns him a laugh and freedom, and as he cups his hand protectively over himself, Angelus slaps him on the shoulder. "It's good to have balls, Xander. Just remember that when you're with me, you could lose them." He smacks Xander across the face, barely a tap, just making the point. Grabs his jaw and jerks him up for a rough kiss.

Still holding him there, he says into the boy's mouth, "It's getting dark. Get dressed and go home. I'd hate to have anything happen to you." Another kiss to punctuate the innuendo, tongue sliding in to taste everything in Xander's mouth, mouth working until Xander kisses back.

Angelus releases him and watches the boy get dressed as he buttons his own shirt. Xander's pants are fine but his shirt is torn and ruined. He's standing there in those khakis with the faint remains of a stain on the front of them and his bare chest still flushed from anger and climax. Angelus turns to a trunk and opens it, tosses a dark bundle to the boy who catches it one handed. Shakes it out and looks at him over the shirt he's holding at arm's length, has some internal struggle over whether or not to argue and decides not to make the effort. Pulls the black shirt over his head with a look on his face that says he'd rather walk out naked.

"Go ahead. I've got things to do," Angelus tells him as he tucks his shirt into his trousers and runs a hand through his hair.

Xander opens his mouth to ask a question, or maybe to tell him to fuck off. He's not sure himself until his mouth is actually open and nothing whatsoever comes out. He closes it, opens it again and desperately tries to find something to say so he's not just walking out like some bad puppy sent to the kitchen. Fails miserably as he sees Angelus turn his back, not the least bit concerned at what he might have to say or do. Leaves the remains of his shirt on the floor where it has been lying since it was torn from his body.

When he reaches the door, he hears his name and turns. Sees something flash in midair and puts out his hand to catch it. It's his cross and the broken chain. He looks over at Angelus, who has his arms crossed again and is leaning against the wall in a posture of complete relaxation. Xander slides the gold into his pocket as the he hears yet another instruction from the teacher.

"Don't wear that again. The punishment won't be pleasant." One eyebrow quirks at him and the smirk is back.

Xander grits his teeth and smiles. "Oh, yes Sir. I'm just a fucking teacher's pet today, aren't I?"

"If you learned as well in school as you do under me, you'd be valedictorian, Xander. Go home."

So Xander does, walks out without slamming the door behind him, walks down the hallway and up the stairs without putting his fist through the wall. He's learning about control in all kinds of ways.

~end.



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