AUTHOR: Sare Liz Gordy
EMAIL: Teknovamp@yahoo.com
RATING: NC-17 B/A - S/D, S/M
SPOILERS: This fic may or may not follow, in my own twisted spin-off from cannon (it spun just after 'Helpless') 'Hypocrite' by me, 'Confessor' and 'Witness' by Vanessa (yet to be posted, soon children, soon), and is one of two direct preludes to Blake. I haven't decided yet.
SUMMARY: Angel and Buffy get rid of the ghost of Scott Hope once and for all.
DISCLAIMER: I'm guessing on the days, people. Don't bite my head off. (Though, Angel is welcome to try.) Joss would never, ever, _ever_ give us this kind of satisfaction. Not even in a ten o'clock timeslot. Buffy, Angel, and Scott belong to him. So does the mansion on Crawford Street, and Dru's toybox (tho he'll never use it properly again). If there isn't a dungeon in the basement (which I find highly unlikely, considering it's recent occupants) I will most happily take credit for that creation, but really, nothing here is mine. The crop is Rachael's.
DISCLAIMER No. 2: Inspired by Nunitari's wish to see Angel as a top, Lex's intense desire _not_ to write any more fanfic at the moment (poor mummy), Vanessa's smut lined guilt trips, and stories of Rachael's riding crop.
NOTES: This is for Nunitari. Ask, and ye shall receive. And no, I'm not a genie. Just a procrastinating college student, who for once has all of her assignments done with time to spare, and is rewarding herself, big time. This is also for my most excellent friend and beta Vanessa, who so kindly coaxed me out of hiding with smut, who was then rewarded with one of my very unhappy and ranting 'BastardBoy is dumping Buffy and going to LA, he deserves PAIN' fics. V, will this make up for my heinous transgression? Smut, per demand. And lastly but of course, never ever least, this is for our beloved listmommy, Lex. Mainly so she won't have to write one herself, but still will get to enjoy the benefits. Thought I was done, didn't you? This is also for Rachael from Essex who has only seen up to The Pack (which we watched the other night) but would happily jump Angelus just from reputation alone. She is one of the few Buffy fans I know in the UK who has a TV to fuel her budding whatever (she's not obsessive about it, yet.) She is the proud owner of the riding crop in question, though I've not had the privilege to see it myself, I've heard many a story--
As Angel pulled Buffy into his now warm embrace, he realized that his half hearted plan hadn't really worked. Not that he thought it would, but there was to hoping.
Hoping what?
That Buffy wouldn't have to see the other side of him because of something like this. Not the other side of the demon mind you, the other side of the soul.
She'd told him earlier in the evening about her guilt at dating Scott. She felt badly about dating him period, but mainly about continuing to see him after Angel had not only been back, but sane and lucid. And really, the rational part of his mind understood the 'she thought I was dead' dating, but even that calm, cool part of him couldn't wish away the idea of his true love in the arms of another when his own were nearby and perfectly empty.
So he'd come to the only conclusion he could. Part of Angel was aroused just thinking of it, but he also wished it could have happened under better circumstances, and hoped Buffy wouldn't hate him for it afterwards. If she didn't, this would solve everything; all the tension and guilt, frustration and anger they'd been experiencing. It would wash it away, like a ritual cleansing.
~
Having made up his mind, Angel waited until he could hear Buffy's breathing deepen. She would be in a deep sleep for at least a half an hour, which gave him plenty of time. Silently, he slipped out of bed and went to the wardrobe, searching in the back for what he hadn't had the heart either to wear or get rid of.
He slipped the worn black leather over his legs, really quite liking the way the material hugged his thighs, and knowing the reaction it had on Buffy. It was almost enough to make him hard. Zipping up the front, he laid his large bathrobe on the bed for her, in case she woke up early. Couldn't have her wearing the wrong thing.
Angel quietly left the bedroom and silently made his way through the mansion, collecting the few items on the main floor he would need before proceeding to the basement, and Dru's playroom.
Setting the candelabra on the floor, he ripped down the red satin that had been draped on the stone walls, tossing it into a corner. Looking around the room, he replaced the candelabra on a small table and began to search through Dru's toybox. Her extra pair of manacles were gone, but he didn't really need those tonight anyway.
Finding what he was looking for, he set it on the table near the matches, picking up the old-fashioned key ring that was also on the wooden surface. Testing the locks on the manacles hanging from one of many iron loops on the wall, he found them in perfect oiled order. Dru always did take care of her toys.
Angel stepped back with a critical eye and realized that the chain was too short to be so high. Quickly replacing it through one of the lower rungs he secured in and lit the candles before going back upstairs to collect his lover.
~
As he dropped the robe to the floor and its plush interior no longer protected his little slayer from the cold, her eyes began to flutter open, even as her nipples shrunk into tiny little dark berries.
She murmured his name and shifted against him as he lounged against the restraining wall, just to her side. Though his body was cleaved to hers, his cool naked chest nearly as hard as the stone, one of his large hands resting on her abdomen, it didn't serve to calm her. Half a second later her eyes shot open and her arms tensed, just before every other muscle in her body.
"What the _hell_ is going on?" She rattled the chains, testing them, but pulling on the manacles so sharply that he could smell the cut she'd created and the blood that was trickling out from under the iron.
"Shhh," he soothed her, holding the wrist she'd cut, but being careful to stay far from her untethered legs. "You'll hurt yourself."
Buffy shot him a disbelieving look. "I'll hurt myself? I'll _hurt_ myself?!? _You've got me chained to a wall and you're worried about my *pain*?_"
"Baby," Angel cooed, "We need this, both of us."
//Just let her understand, Please.// How could he explain it? That this needed to be done? And how could he explain that her struggles only turned him on, and that it had absolutely nothing to do with the demon?
She quieted, but was trembling with rage.
His fingers lightly ran from her wrist to her elbow, leaving a trail of blood. The scent teased Angel, along with that of their previous lovemaking. "It didn't work, did it?"
His simple question was enough to peak her curiosity and quiet her body.
"You apologized," he began explaining, "I accepted, and we made love, but I can still see it in your eyes." Angel waited a moment for the truth of the words to sink into her, so the necessity of his actions could as well. He leaned into her from the side. "I can see it in your eyes," he whispered against her face, moving his lips across her cheekbones. "I can see the guilt, the pain. It eats you up, doesn't it, Baby?"
Buffy nodded reluctantly.
Angel shifted slightly, moving his body in front of hers, his hands on the wall behind her keeping his body separated from her delectable bare one by mere inches. "And you know, that guilt, that pain, it has a name. And its name," Angel whispered as he neared her ear, "is _Scott_."
Angel quickly withdrew and cocked his head to one side to fully grasp her painridden visage, the tears leaking out of tightly clenched eyes. He hated to hurt her, but the only way they could get through this was for her to understand. Growth, through pain. Angel knew all about it.
"Shhh, shhh," he cooed at her, as if it weren't his own words that had brought the tears to the surface. His words, and the pain they reminded her off. Angel caressed the side of her face with the back of his fingers until she could open her eyes without tears flooding from them.
"And what do you see," the vampire said, his face inches away from hers, "In mine?"
The silence was complete for several long moments. He could see her nervous swallow, but concentrated on her eyes, his hands now moving down to caress her throat.
"Pain," she whispered out, apparently hoping that the single and very general emotion would be enough to satisfy him.
"What else?" Angel asked gently, opening his soul to her, letting her see it through his eyes.
"Anger," she added, her voice catching on the word.
"And?"
Buffy swallowed painfully and slowly closed her eyes, trying to fight back the tears. "Betrayal," the Slayer breathed.
He wiped her tears away, but gave her no time to compose herself. "And does my pain," he ask, lingering on the word, "and anger," he continued, drawing the phrases out to enunciate their reality, "and betrayal-- have a name?"
"Scott?" she asked almost hopefully.
"Guess again."
"Buffy," she admitted, sobbing outright now.
Angel trailed his hands across her shoulders and down her sides, coming up to cup her small breasts. As she sobbed, his thumbs made lazy circles around the dark centers, avoiding her sensitive nipples, opting instead to simply teasing her out of her tears.
By the time his hands had reached her muscled abdomen, her heavy crying had ceased. Lightly rubbing her hips in the palms of his open hands, he leaned into her slightly and kissed away her tears. After a moment, he leaned his body into her completely, letting her feel the leather she so loved on his darker half, letting her feel how much he desired her.
Angel wasn't sure whether her gasp was from he back contacting the cold stone, her hard nipples contacting his cold chest, or perhaps the leather pants really _did_ make a difference.
"Do you understand? We both need this, Baby." Buffy opened her eyes and he was almost certain of what he found.
"And afterwards?" Her voice was trembling, but he'd gained major ground.
"Afterwards, we'll be clean," he murmured against her lips before kissing her gently. "Free from this."
She was silent for a moment, and Angel simply ran his fingertips lightly up and down her sides, and smelled the beginnings of her arousal for his efforts.
"Will it hurt?"
Angel gathered up her breasts in his hands once again, lightly brushing his thumbs over the tips. Through her gasp, he whispered, "You can handle pain, Baby."
Her alarmed eyes rose to his, distressed besides her desire. "Are you going to kill me?" she asked quietly.
"Never, Baby, never." He brushed a chaste kiss over her lips and his hands skimmed down, past her stomach to brush against the hair above her legs. Buffy shuddered as his finger teased closer and closer to her clit.
"Tell me, Buffy," Angel asked. "How many days did it take for you to consider Scott as my substitute?"
"Four, I think--" Her voice trembled as she spoke.
"Don't think Buffy, be sure." His finger had just parted her slick folds, but hadn't ventured any deeper.
"Four."
Angel took his finger from its playing and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her away from the wall and turning her so her she faced the stone. "Then count for me," he said. Stepping away slightly, he slapped the side of her hip. After a yelp, a hesitant 'one' was heard.
Angel slapped her again, harder this time on a globe of her ass. A whimpered 'two' barely registered with the vampire. All his attentions were focused on the scent of her arousal, which had just gotten stronger.
//There is a god.//
The knowledge that this was going to be more than just pain for her lifted a weight from his shoulders. What was once such a forbidden fantasy for him was being played out, and he remembered - if he'd ever forgotten - why his darker half adored leather pants. As Angel's erection quickly grew to its near epic proportions, the pants cupped him, both restraining and caressing. Every move was ecstasy, and with it grew the bloodlust as well.
He slapped her twice more in rapid succession, thoroughly enjoying the feel of her soft skin against his hand in such a rough manner, but with another goal in mind.
"Four?" Buffy squeaked.
"Yea," Angel murmured, now on his knees. "Four. And one for me." He nuzzled the side of her ass, breathing in her smell. Vanilla, musk, fear, passion, Buffy.
Feeling his face relax into the ridges of his kind, his teeth lengthened just as he bit her, piercing her skin and drawing blood. Feeding for a long moment, he licked the area clean, hastening the healing process. Feeling the small amount of her strong blood rip through his system, Angel shuddered for a moment before gathering himself together.
Drawing back up, he leaned against her back, his hands just outside of hers on the wall. "How long," he asked, whispering in her ear again, "did you go out with Scott?"
"Sixteen days," Buffy gasped.
"Sixteen?" Angel asked as one hand reached back to the small wooden table.
He didn't wait for her mumbled reply before he brought Drucilla's riding crop down sharply on the Chosen One's ass. He reigned down the blows and gave in to the feelings of possession, letting them rock his body as he'd not allowed them to in centuries.
Angel felt his anger of her recede into the perfect understanding of love as he varied his strikes in intensity, caressing everywhere on the back of her body, from her shoulder blades to her calves with the brutal, unforgiving leather crop. He could smell the blood rising to the surface and bruises were beginning to form already, care of her high healing rate. And all too soon she was crying out the final number.
Her body hunched slightly into the wall, Angel took her hair gently in one hand and cleared it from her shoulder. He buried his face into her neck, inhaling deeply, taking a moment for them both. "And one for me," he whispered.
Angel quickly wrapped one arm around her waist and held her bruised body against his, knowing that the temperature difference would soothe her slightly. A quick snarl escaped from his lips as he sunk his fangs into the base of her neck, purposefully missing the jugular so he could nurse the blood slowly from her instead of having it pumped between his lips for him.
He hadn't thought his cock could get any harder, but her low moan combined with the back and forth motion her ass had adopted in trying to get closer to the leather clad member behind it seemed to do just that. Angel stopped feeding, his tongue now only toying with the broken skin before licking the wound shut. Hearing her moan get only more frantic, Angel held her closer, his hand bringing the handle of the crop to her sopping clit, brushing it once.
Buffy cried out, begging him to let her come, just once.
He ignored her.
Both hands now around her waist, Angel turned her back around. With one finger, he lifted her chin and forced her passion glazed eyes to meet his own. "And how many times did you kiss him?"
He stood away from her and dipped one finger into the cream that had already begun to run down her thighs. Angel looked as his lover who had so cruelly strayed from him, cutting him deeper than any other person on earth. His finger hovered over his lips, the scent of her desire for _him_ taunting deliciously. "Ten times? Twenty?" He rubbed his finger across his bottom lip, spreading her moisture just a bit. "Fifty?" Angel's tongue darted out to lick at the finger tip, slowly and methodically cleaning it. It was as good as blood, but like blood was better at body temperature, and right from the source.
"A-a-a-around-- t-t-twen-ty."
"Twenty," Angel repeated as he drew the crop over one delicious mound of breast and down her abdomen. He struck her outer thigh once, then again, realizing he would never forget the gorgeous way she moaned out the count for him. It would haunt his dreams and fuel his fantasies while she was away.
He struck her other side, just below the rib cage, then the inner thigh. Gazing longingly at her nipples, he smacked them hard enough with the whip to make her scream, but not with nearly the same force he'd applied to her thighs.
Trailing the crop up and down her abdomen at a lazy pace, Angel thought of the next deserving locale. With a half grin, he smarted her clit and was gratified to hear her scream out the number seven, then eight, nine and orgasming with a screech at ten.
She was so beautiful when she came, her entire body glistening with sweat, her muscles straining as her body arched away from the stone, into the absent crop. Her fists clenched tight, her arms locked she was pulling so hard the iron restraint ring was actually beginning to move slightly. Her head thrown back and her beautiful creamy flawless throat exposed. Angel could hear her heart racing, and his cock throbbed to be so close to such perfection, yet not inside to experience it first hand.
And that wasn't even the best part.
//She came, screaming my name. Not Scott's, or Tom's, or Owen's, or Xander's or any other man's. Mine. She came, screaming for her dark Angel.// With her orgasm, all the feelings of betrayal faded away. He was the one she desired. In the back of his mind, Angel knew that she would never come that hard with any of the other little boys she'd been infatuated with.
When she'd stopped screaming and her muscles had relaxed slightly, he reminded her softly, "That was only ten."
The moaning started again with the third hit to her inner thigh. Four more and he was back at her breasts again. The last three hits directly to her left nipple left her keening and once again unsatisfied. One more act and they would be done with this.
One more act and they could forget Scott forever.
Angel's hands flowed over her unhurt abdomen like water. He sunk to his knees in front of his still unbroken lover, and looked up, still as death until she met his gaze.
"And one for me."
Angel pushed at the back of her knee and caught her weight when her leg collapsed. He rested her right thigh over his shoulder, loving its weight. Her lover lapped at the wetness on her inner thigh, grazing a fang across the skin and blending the two juices together to make an intoxicating mixer.
Buffy grew louder as his tongue began to clean her, starting with her thighs, then moving to her outer lips. Though her clit was standing out, begging much like Buffy herself was, Angel ignored it for the time being, instead thoroughly gathering every drop of moisture she'd created.
Having accomplished that task, Angel's supple tongue delved deep into her, making Buffy cry out his name, pleading with him to never, ever stop, apologizing for ever looking at another man, swearing her eternal fidelity, and begging him to never leave her, as if he ever would.
So close to her peak, he withdrew his tongue, leaving her gasping. Angel paused to savor the moment before touching the tip of his tongue to her clit. Buffy screeched and moaned and begged for more, to which Angel happily obliged.
Holding her hips steady, he sucked his lover's clit into his mouth, rolling the little bud around with his tongue. He sucked harshly, bringing more blood into the tiny already engorged member, finally brushing it with his fangs, slitting it.
Drop after glorious drop filled his mouth, meeting the juice that was also flooding past his lips to his waiting tongue.
Angel sucked one last time as she came down from her high, feeling himself throb so hard it hurt. He'd thought that the bondage and domination would have solved their problems, but there was still pain within him, though the hurt and betrayal were gone. Not even having to consider it, Angel knew just what he needed to release the pain, once and for all.
Angel took his face away from her, licking her essence from his lips and leaving her to hang limply from her chains for the barest of moments. He quickly peeled off the leather that was holding him back, keeping him from her, and picked her up in his arms.
Buffy gasped as his hand contacted bruises, but it couldn't be helped. Then she wailed as she was set down sharply on his rampant cock.
Angel loved the way her body, tired though it was, never failed to react to his. At his entrance, her terribly tight cavern clamped down hard at his intrusion, causing him to barely swallow a groan of pure pleasure. He pushed her back against the wall, his hands helping her tired legs wrap around his body, then holding her hips firmly in place for the rough fuck that would ensue.
He moved slowly in her, teasing her, not allowing them any decent amounts of pleasure but the incidental tremors that racked both of their bodies. She tried to move on him, but had no leverage, her legs negated by the hands on her hips, and her arms flexing against the chains, but not doing much good.
"Buffy," Angel rumbled near her ear. "Did you love _Scott_?"
"Nooo," was her moaning reply as she tried to get her lover to go deeper.
Angel moved his smooth face against her neck, caressing her there, murmuring into the soft damp hollow that smelled so _very_ good. "Whom do you love?"
"I love you," Buffy whined pitifully.
"Say my name," he said as almost an explanation as he pulsed inside of her.
"Angel," she gasped loudly. "I love Angel."
Without hesitation, her tormentor ceased his teasing and pulled back slightly, slamming his thick cool cock into her, pulling her mostly unbruised hips down roughly into his thrusts. He continued for several very long moments, growling as he savagely took her, pounding into her relentlessly until he could feel her squeeze him the hardest yet.
Her hoarse cry echoed in the stone chamber and the Chosen One collapsed on her lover's softly moving cock, and in his arms.
Angel continued to move in her gently, not allowing her to cool, but once again arousing her. Very shortly, when Buffy started to moan and pull herself into his thrusts, Angel pulled his body away from hers slightly, holding her hips still.
"Buffy," Angel growled softly, causing her to clench around his slick cock. When she opened her eyes and stared back at him with a dim questioning look, he continued. "Did you desire _Scott_?"
"No," she replied pleadingly, as if willing him to understand.
"Whom do you desire?"
"I desire Angel," she whined.
Angel growled and lunged into her, his corded muscles driving deep, as hand shaped bruises began to form on her hips.
"I desire Angel," the Slayer keened out, gripping her chains tightly and gripping her lover even tighter as he pistoned in and out of her hot center.
He pounded her into the unyielding stone wall even as his hands pulled her closer and her clit brushed up against his body each time they met.
A moment later, Angel could feel her clenching so very tightly around his throbbing cock, but held back his own release from the pleasurable hell he was in. It wasn't enough. The pain was still there, and he refused to stop until it was gone.
Again she collapsed on him, pinned between her lover and the wall, panting. And again, before she could come down Angel moved inside of her, still quite stiff, pulsing and pushing gently until he could hear her soft whimper.
"Angel, I--"
"Shhhh," he murmured against her lips, brushing them with his own, kissing her for the first time in quite a while. "One more question." His lips were still against hers, just barely moving. "One more question is all I need."
"One--" Buffy whimpered, unable to form more of a thought than that.
"One more, but you gotta make the answer real good. Can you do that, Buffy?" The tip of Angel's tongue darted out to taste her lips. "Can you make the answer real good?"
"Real--good--" Buffy replied in between pants for air.
"Yea, real good. So the question is, Baby, you didn't desire Scott, but did you want him to fuck you?" Angel pistoned his hips once inside her. "Hm? Did you dream about being _fucked_ by _Scott_?"
"No!" Her voice was a mixture of shock and pleading.
"Not even one little daydream?" he whispered, taunting her, daring her to say yes, giving her every opportunity, and praying that she wouldn't.
"Not one," Buffy cried.
Relief flooded him. "Then who was in your dreams?"
"You were," she gasped.
Angel's cock throbbed in her, causing her to whimper pitifully. "Who did you want to fuck you then?" he asked, his eyes rolling back into his head, thinking, //soon, soon, soon.//
"You," she panted, "always you."
A shiver went down his spine. "Gotta say it, Baby," Angel said thickly, not able to contain himself for much longer. "Need to hear it."
"Angelangelangelangelangelangelangelangel--" she trailed off, trying to thrust herself on him, and still not being able to. "Want to fuck Angel-- Want Angel to fuck-- Only Angel-- Ever Angel-- Pleeeease--" she moaned, crying out in compete and utter frustration.
Finally hearing what he needed to, Angel kissed her deeply, his tongue thrusting into her mouth and curling around her own as his body's muscles screamed as they drove insanely hard, piercing her core and plunging deep, as deep as he'd ever been.
Angel heard her scream his name in ecstasy as he fucked her with an intensity their physical relationship had yet to know. She screamed herself hoarse and into low moans as he continued to pound into her relentlessly.
Angel growled in frustration when he finally felt himself coming, but realized she wasn't there yet. And yet, with his growl, she came hard, pulling him down with her, into her heat, into her love.
He felt it build up, only hastened by her convulsions, and thrust with every ounce of all the strength he'd ever possessed, he thrust into her body, into her womb. Ripping his tongue from hers Angel threw his head back and roared into the small chamber as he came bestially hard into his mate, pouring into her, one continual flow powered by her pulls, his thrusts.
"Fuck Angel-- Desire Angel-- Love Angel--" she murmured just as she was coming down from her high with her lover still coating her sore insides.
Finally, with his love's sleepy babble, and feeling his own essence fill her and mark her, Angel felt all vestiges of pain slip away as if they'd never existed in the first place. The place of darkness whey they'd resided was now filled with a light as bright and pure as the sun. And the light had a name.
It was called Buffy.
THE END
Feedback to Sare Liz
Back to The Naughty Slayer Archive