TWISTED
This was meant to be a rosebud, but it got away from
me. Again. Call it a double rosebud. Again.
Author: Jo
Feedback : Pretty please, whatever you thought of
it. It will feed my muse for
the next story – honestly.
Send it to thelibrarian2003@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine. If they were, I’d look after them
better. No money will ever be
made from this fic.
Distribution: The Angel Texts; Dark Star’s Blood Roses Forum; The Angel
Elders Mansion Scribes of
Angel
You want it?
Really? Gosh. Just tell me where it’s going
please.
Spoilers: None
Content: B/A.
Coming to terms with living with a vampire. Not nice.
Summary: Dark Star wrote ‘Hollow’,
which tackled the issue of a vampire’s darker desires and how they would
affect a permanent relationship between Angel and Buffy. She was then pressed to write the
prequel ‘It Begins Again’. In
discussion of these stories on the Blood Roses Forum, it was suggested
that, in the end, Buffy might finish up staking Angel because of these
darker desires.
NO! No
staking! I’ve snuck into Dark
Star’s playground and played with her toys, to show that staking isn’t
necessary. You need to read
her two stories first.
TWISTED
It was that time again: time for the room hidden away in
the furthest corner of their home.
Buffy could tell easily now – Angel was increasingly jumpy around
her, increasingly likely to avoid her company if he could. It was the once a month time when
the vampire came out to play.
It hadn’t taken long to work out that it was the scent of her blood
that started him off, and even though they had tried the obvious course of
action, it wasn’t enough. The
blood was only the beginning.
He needed much more. He
needed the room. She looked
her question at him – they didn’t need to put it into words any more, and
he nodded, a touch of guilt in his expression. He hated to put her through this. He needed it. He loved it.
His hand was gentle on hers as he led her to the
room. There was a time when
she had hated this room, hated what happened in here: a time when he caused
her so much pain in here that she refused to enter it except for the one
night a month. It was
different now.
He hesitated, as he always did, with one hand holding
hers, the other on the doorknob.
“Are you sure?”
She nodded.
No time for words now.
Those big, gentle hands opened the door, shutting it again firmly
behind her, and his arms folded her to him, his hands running up and down
her back, soothing her. They
kissed, then broke apart and began to undress, each appraising the other as
they did so. Over the years
that they had done this, they had reached unspoken consensus on many things
– unspoken, because they never, ever discussed what went on in the
room. One of those unspoken
agreements was nakedness for both of them. No hiding behind clothes.
The chest of toys was still there, and another tacit
consensus was that they would *agree* which ones were to be used. Buffy’s breath caught in her chest
as Angel picked out a selection that included a heavy bullwhip and his
rarely used favourite – the little leather roll that held his cruellest
instruments. Rarely used,
because its contents could cause so much pain. She picked up the roll.
“Which ones?”
Her voice was hesitant.
His wasn’t.
“All of them.”
Of course. It
had been a hard month for both of them, but for Angel particularly. The demon must be appeased. She nodded her agreement, mentally
flinching as she did so.
Chains hung from the ceiling now, as well as from the
bedposts, and he indicated that, tonight, he preferred the ceiling
chains. It was going to be a
very hard night indeed. But,
if this was the price of their marriage, of his control of the vampire, so
be it.
Gentle hands, fixing manacles around those elegant,
expressive wrists. Gentle
hands, spreading those shapely feet apart and fastening shackles around the
ankles. Knowing hands, running
over every swell and curve of flesh, feeling satin over steel, touching,
arousing, leaving no inch of skin uncaressed. This was how he liked it now. Then the opening crack of the bullwhip, and that
beautiful back, arching *into* the pain. Not for long.
***********
It was almost over now. Almost, but not quite. Angel got off so hard on this night’s activities that
another unspoken agreement between them was that she was the one who chose
whether he would get off at all.
Tonight, such a hard, cruel night, she’d gone with the flow and said
no, with a simple shake of her head.
No words. She wouldn’t
even allow him anything except his own will power to hold back his
release. He’d managed, but
only just. She knew who to
thank for that expertise.
Darla.
She flexed her tired muscles, readying herself for the
night’s finale. She lifted her
head to meet his gaze, both of them tired and full of pain, pain that would
now be overtaken by pleasure, for her, at least. She hadn’t decided about him, yet. She looked at his eyes again. Pain, and love and lust, and her
heart opened, just as it did every time she looked at him.
She walked over to him and ran her fingers over his
bunched shoulder muscles, cramped by the tautness of the chains. Her hands came away bloody, and she
lifted them to his mouth so he could lick them clean. Then, she grasped his shoulders
again and, lithe as she had always been, lifted herself up until she could
wrap her legs around his waist.
As she brushed against his manhood, he groaned, and she wondered
whether to be merciful.
Slowly, she sank down onto him, and felt his entire body clench with
the effort of preventing a release that she knew was aching, bursting,
consuming his every thought.
She, too, was more ready for him than she was prepared
to admit, excited by the pain she had brought to him. Vampires and Slayers: too much
alike, perhaps. As the first
tendrils of warmth began to spread from her womb, she brought her very
human teeth down onto the side of his neck, biting down as hard as she
could. There was no holding
back for him now, as she sucked just a few drops of blood from the wound
that she had made. Man, soul
and demon cried out in the ecstatic agony of relief. He came hard: so hard that as,
still intimately joined with him, she unlocked the manacles around his
wrists, he was still coming; as he wrapped his bloodied arms around her,
and they sank to the floor together, he was still coming; and as he moved
within her to bring her to completion again, he was still coming.
The demon had been appeased for another month. So had the man and the soul. Just occasionally, it would be her
in the chains again, as it had been at the first. Not often, though.
She had found that, Slayer though she was, she couldn’t bear it
month in and month out. So,
they had twisted it around, and found that this worked almost as well, as
he taught her everything he wanted her to know about the pleasure-pain
continuum. Twisted it might
be, but it allowed him to live with his demon. More importantly, it allowed his demon to live with her,
too. Happily ever after.
THE END
13 September 2004
| Fiction Search | Home
Page | Back |
|
