Perfect Kiss
"What is the Rhineland?"
Xander squints at the quiz show on tv, vaguely recognizing the geographic term from some history class, ages ago in his now defunct high school.
They lie about needin´ *that* crap for the real world, he thinks absently.
The teen is stretched out comfortably on the large bed he shares with Angelus, idly watching the uneventful daytime programs. Although by now they´ve begun to shift into the barely tolerable must–see tv shows that scampered out after dark.
He shifts on the bed, winces as a sharp pain lances through him. He grits his teeth to keep back a moan and stills himself. Stays completely motionless for a few minutes as his back continues to throb dimly. After the credits for Jeopardy roll, the pain is back under his finger, not gone, but distant enough so that he can control it. So he can kind of pretend it´s not there, or that it doesn´t belong to him. And if it´s not his, then it can´t swallow him up again.
Xander sighs softly into the room, and lets his heavy eyes droop shut. He´s been taking copious amounts of painkillers since.. that night. But nothing can ever make it truly go away. Years from now, it´ll still be there.
The volume on the television suddenly disappears, and the teen doesn´t bother opening his eyes, but feels his heartrate speed up anyway, telling him he´ll never be as calm as he feigns when the vampire´s around.
"I was watchin´ that," he says tiredly, holding back a yawn to emphasize this point.
"I see," Angelus answers, his voice coming from somewhere above Xander´s head.
After a moment, the youth opens his eyes, and sees Angelus studying him intently, his face in ridged vampire mode only a few inches away, crouching next to the bed.
"Gah," a noise of surprise escapes Xander before he can stop it, even though he´s not all that surprised. This is like, what, the third time this has happened?
"Don´t do that!" He scrambles away from his lover, who is grinning wolfishly with his mouth full of jagged sharp teeth.
"Sorry.." Angelus says, with absolutely no hint of remorse. He shifts back into his human visage, his funereal eyes narrowed and cold, somehow looking even more frightening than in his demonic guise. The room has chilled palpably since he entered, and Xander has to shake off the need to wrap himself in the bed´s crushed red velvet cover.
"Have you seen the news?" He asks, standing after a moment, and settling down on the bed.
Xander doesn´t relax. He´s scrunched back against the ornate wood headboard, legs bent in front of him and hands clutching the covers on either side. He looks so innocent and scared; Angelus swallows back the desperate craving to break the teen. Just grab him right now and rip his teeth into the pale neck––
No! He inhales an unneeded breath, trying to keep himself calm. He wouldn´t usually deny himself something like this, but he has so much planned for Xander that he doesn´t want to ruin it with one moment of lapsed thinking. One impulsive act.
"I.. No." Xander shakes his head, body loosening ever so slightly.
You´re still fucking scared of me? I would´ve killed you by now if I wanted that, Angelus thinks amusedly. He twists on the bed, until he´s crawling towards Xander, enjoying how the teen watches him, almost frozen.
"Well. They think there´s a group of satanists on the rampage." Angelus comes to a stop in front of Xander´s legs, and kneels there, placing his hands on the teen´s knees.
"Why?" Xander asks, then the realization dawns on him and his mouth makes a cute little ´o´ of understanding.
"Yeah.. They said it seemed––" Angelus pauses to recall the newscast, while his hands glide over Xander´s calves, down to his ankles.
"––Ritualistic.. The precise and careful work of animals with a darker motive.." He smiles faintly at the memory, watching Xander´s chest begin to rise and fall quicker as his heart pounded faster. The rising excitement speeding his pulse up, spicing the air with erotica and fear.
Oh, you just wait, Angelus thinks, realizing how much he wants to do this. How bone–deep the anticipation has burrowed itself. Xander had made him feel human; more than anyone ever had. Infinitely more than Buffy could have ever hoped to. In fact, the young man still continued to do so, dredging up the slivers of humanity that Angelus had gone for centuries without acknowledging. Without *feeling*. And now to be in such a half–way emotional state because of Xander. Well, it was still not something he could, or would, forgive easily.
He remembers how gentle he´d been with Xander that night; giving him the soothing caresses the teen had been craving. Love rearing its ugly head the whole time, almost turning Angelus into the one man he loathed the most. As if he were still in possession of his soul.
And with disgust, Angelus clears away the memory, pulls Xander´s ankles with a sudden movement, yanking the youth´s legs flat on either side of the kneeling vampire.
Xander winces as he hits the headboard with a dull thud, and he reaches up to rub his scalp, but doesn´t protest what Angelus is doing.
The vampire looks down at him, sitting back on his heels to admire the flustered picture of beauty beneath him. Warm brown eyes, and the wet pink lips. Parted slightly, breaths coming quick and short.
"Do you know how beautiful you are?" Angelus asks quietly, eyes narrowing even more, this time in appreciation as he studies Xander´s face, his body, grown leaner as their unhealthy relationship progressed.
Xander shakes his head with some amount of disbelief, always discomfitted whenever the vampire complimented him. It was rare, and any sort of positivity coming from Angelus usually meant something twice as negative was going to come.
"Well.. You are."
"Would I still be here even if I wasn´t?" Xander asks suddenly, wanting to change the subject. And for some reason, wanting to prove to Angelus that he didn´t have to be meek and submissive all the time, even in the bedroom. Even given what had happened.. He wanted the vampire to know that he still had the vein of Harris smugness running through him. Nothing Angelus could do would ever make it go away.
Angelus eyes the youth, almost able to feel the stream of thoughts in his mind.
"I don´t know.. Maybe if you were still a good fuck."
Xander flinches and Angelus grins at him, pats the youth´s thigh good–naturedly. And then he climbs off the bed, walking away to the tv set.
"What are you doing?" Xander asks, sitting up to watch his lover grab the remote, flip the tv to a different channel.
"Thought we´d watch a movie," Angelus says casually, and Xander squints in confusion.
"You? You rented a movie? I didn´t think you liked movies."
Angelus chuckles without turning around, fiddling with the controls on the remote.
"I don´t," is the cryptic reply.
Xander thinks about this for a moment.
"What?"
"Just wait a sec," There is a brief pause. "Okay.. I don´t normally watch pornos," Angelus turns slowly, looking at Xander, his obssydian eyes glittering playfully, with their inherent black hint of cruelty.
"But you´re gonna like this one," he stops, considers it. "Actually, you probably won´t." He laughs again, pressing play on the remote.
Xander´s heart has sped up during this whole interaction, as if deep down his body knew what it meant, even though his consciousness was yet unable to grasp it. He could feel the blood pound in his temples, pulse clamoring behind his eyes. Feels as if the room has suddenly been deprived of oxygen.
And then the tape starts, and there are no credits, just the sudden shock of the picture; the screen filled with bare flesh. The sound is sort of muted due to the quality of the videocamera, but he can hear it all the same. As crystal clear as if he were back in the sweaty motel room, surrounded by strangers, harsh lights––
"No," he chokes out, scrambles off the bed.
But Angelus is there before he can get the door open, and the vampire leans against the cherry–wood, crosses his arms casually on his chest, a picture of innocent amusement.
"I thought you´d be surprised."
Xander tries to speak, but the lump in his throat is stealing him of his words, and all he can do is let out one choked syllable. Shakes his head desperately, trying not to cry.
"I told you you should´ve been a porno star... You thought that was just intuition?"
And that sparks something inside Xander––
(he watched it, even before he came back)
––and the teen is able to slap Angelus. And then he does it again, until he´s hitting at him in a fury, and the tears are clawing out of his throat with a raw freshness, and he keeps hitting him, until the vampire wraps one arm around his shaking frame. And then Xander falls into the embrace, still sobbing, trying to struggle away even as he lets himself be held close.
"Harris, I have to say," Angelus whispers quietly, almost soothingly, were it not for the shattering effect of his words, "that tape would´ve made a fortune. What do you say we sell it ourselves?"
And then Angelus is pushing him back to the center of the room, to the bed. Xander starts to scream, but the vampire clamps a cold hand over his lips, muffling the desperate sounds, and holds him still for a moment.
"Do you really want me to gag you? You almost choked to death the last time we did that," Angelus whispers against his ear, holding him so that Xander can see the tv. Can see himself on the tv, the focus of the camera. Like some big Hollywood star. And yeah, that´s right; he´s a movie star and the film is all staged, all carefully rehearsed. The grimace on his face as he sucks his co–star´s cock is all deliberately planned and expertly executed.
Angelus throws him back on the bed, and even before he hits, he´s trying to roll off it.
"Suck it, faggot–– Suck it––" memory–triggering sounds drift from the set, and Xander claws at Angelus as the vampire pins him back on the mattress.
"I thought you liked being raped," Angelus says, voice filled with some thick emotion. What was it? Hatred? Lust?
Or was it disgust? Was he so disgusted with Xander now that he only wanted to hurt him; to fuck him until he was broken and dead inside? Because the youth was useless now, wasn´t he? Too dirty and tainted for anyone to ever want. To ever love. You could stain your hands just by touching him.
"Please," Xander whispers, eyes blurring over with stinging tears. A hand reaches up to Angelus´ face, strokes it with as much affection as he can muster, and it surprises him that he can actually manage it. That there is true affection in the touch. But then again, wasn´t he the hardcore masochist of this relationship? Didn´t he love being abused by the vampire? Didn´t he always come back, begging and prostrating himself for the same amount of pain?
Of course he still felt affection for Angelus. Of course he still loved him. He was just.. doomed that way. Doomed to this disease of a relationship, to love something that was killing him day by day.
For a moment, Angelus´ face softens. Then the shadow of regret dissolves as quickly as it appeared and he growls, pinning the hand back on the mattress. The harsh sounds of sex and pain are slowly seeping out into the room, filling the air almost thick as molasses. Flooding Xander´s senses, until he can´t even be sure if he´s making any noise. If Angelus is making any noise.
"Do it," he feels himself say, but the words are all syrupy and quiet in his mind.
Angelus smiles and slaps him. His head whips to the side, cheek burning. "Do it," he says again, and he still can´t hear it, but Angelus must because he punches him, much harder than the slap. And then he does it again.
Xander tastes hot copper in his mouth, spits a watery mixture of saliva and blood onto the mattress. Thin strand of saliva dangles off the side of his lip and Angelus leans down, licks it off carefully.
"Fuck me," Xander whispers, pleading and resistent all at the same time, staring up into the vampire´s heated eyes. Mixed with indifference and lust.
And appreciation of Xander´s wanton masochism.
Angelus raises his body weight off him for a second, to flip him over, and then Xander is pressed back into the mattress. Feels the roughness of his pants being ripped down, with little concern or restraint. He struggles against this still, but now it´s just part of the show. He always fights it, even though he´s already resigned to the act. Already accepting it; wanting it.
On the tv, some faceless cock is coming on him, white expulsions of semen landing noiselessly on the tv Xander´s face, as he tries to close his eyes against it.
Angelus swallows, throat suddenly dry in anxiety, the demon flowing through his body screaming violence and blood. It takes every bit of control he has not to just rip inside Xander right there; tunnel himself deep inside the red wetness of Xander´s flesh.
He knows the weak struggles on Xander´s part don´t mean that the youth is an unwilling partner. On the contrary; they increase as his arousal increases. He gets more frantic, more resistent. Like he was Angelus´ own fucked up Pavlovian dog, taught to struggle whenever desire hit him.
The vampire feels the hot wriggling body beneath him, the loud whimpers, just like a hungry stray, mindless and incoherent, just full of want. Makes the demon in him lick his lips in eager expectation.
On the tv, the last person has finished showering Xander´s exquisite face with his cum, and Angelus waits for a moment. Waits until whoever it is picks his Xander up, throws the limp young man over the side of the sofa.
Waits until a different person steps up behind the protesting teen, holds his cock at the base, so he can push through the tight muscle of the entry point.
Waits until this same person slams into his Xander with absolutely no caution. Brings the sobbing teen into a full– fledged scream of agony.
At that moment, Angelus unbuckles his jeans. Unbuttons them, unzips them, and he´s so overwrought with emotion that it seems as if he can´t move fast enough. His need for Xander is told in his hurried movements, quickly sliding his pants down to free the painfully hard erection he´s gained during this torment of Xander. He can´t help it. Being so turned on by this; body humming with excitement, through and through. Because Xander´s beautiful when he cries, and watching these hapless assholes take him so ruthlessly.. It´s perfect.
Xander has turned his head and is watching the tv with tear–filled eyes. When he feels Angelus opening him up, he moans in pain. It´s only been two days since the motel, and he´s still as sore as when it happened; still feels scraped and raw, as if he´d been fucked with graters instead of flesh.
And then the vampire is pushing his way inside, and Xander opens his mouth to scream, but the damn hand is there again. And Xander doesn´t give a shit; he clamps his teeth down on Angelus´ hand hard enough to draw blood. Lots of it.
Angelus gasps, pain and pleasure mixing easily in his head, and he wonders if this is what it´s like to be Xander, to be such a dedicated masochist. If pain can really feel that wonderful.
But being inside Xander feels even better. The instinctive flexing of the internal muscles as the teen protests the intrusive cock, splitting him open again. Angelus can feel Xander squirming; can feel it all the way through his body. Warm, writhing thing beneath him. The tight walls enveloping Angelus throbbing perceptibly. And he pushes deeper, making Xander scream louder into his hand, but it´s muffled, and he´s not worried about it. The people in the building knew not to ask questions.
"Xander," he breathes, wanting to bury his cock so far inside Xander that this repulsive feeling of guilt and anger is swept away, is lost in the warmth.
He rocks himself steadily, fucking Xander almost to the same tempo of whoever´s on screen. Both are doing it hard and loud enough so that the fleshy thudding sounds are more than audible, and the mewls of pain coming from the youth are almost the exact same.
Except this time, Xander is arching backwards into the pain. Pushing Angelus further inside him, needing to be impaled on his lover. Needing to be torn right in two.
Flares of pain dazzle him, making the room swim in dizzy circles, and he bucks against the vampire, screaming as hard as he can through his mouthful of flesh.
Angelus digs Xander deeper into the mattress, and the whole bed is shaking with the force of his thrusts, and Xander is rocking back and forth, hands twisting themselves in the red velvet covers.
His mind repeats the same phrase, fast and unintelligible, but filling him with a feeling of self–hatred it´s almost tangible, blocking out all other coherence:
(i´msosickwhyamisosick)
And on the tv, the first guy has finished, cumming with a loud cry inside the sobbing mess of pliant skin beneath him. This time, he doesn´t let it splatter on Xander´s face; this time it stays in Xander´s body. Like some malevolent tumor, destined to remain within forever. And Xander can never get it out, no matter how furiously he washes himself. He´d have to cut it out, cut everything out, cut himself out––
As the second faceless body pumps its way into Xander, Angelus feels himself reach the breaking point, and he leans full–body against the young man beneath him.
Lets his mouth find Xander´s frenetic pulse, lets the demon take over, but under careful control.
And when he comes, he sinks his teeth into that scarred stretch of pale heaven.
Xander bites his hand again in return, closing his eyes tight, shutting out everything except the agony of Angelus buried to the hilt inside him, the blood flowing out of his neck, and then he´s coming to a brilliant climax, without even needing to be touched.
They are still for a few minutes, Angelus panting rapidly even though he doesn´t need the air. Trying to clear away the cobwebby strands of orgasm still clinging to his senses.
He yanks his hand out of Xander´s mouth, and then pulls his cock out of the youth´s ass, where he briefly notes the red streaks of blood with some amount of interest. He´d re–opened whatever internal damage the attackers had done to Xander.
The youth doesn´t move, even when he feels the vampire pull out, leaving him with an incredible emptiness, as if someone had wrenched out a part of his body, replacing it with oblivion.
(i´m so sick.. why am i so fucking sick?)
After a minute, he spits onto the bed again. This time it´s Angelus´ blood.
He´s too weak to sit up, to move at all, and the blood drools from his mouth, making a wet little circle on the velvet beneath him. His head is still whirring, and he prays for unconsciousness. But it´s like before; he can still feel every thrust as if it were still happening. Just ingrained in his memory..
The sounds on the tv are still filling the space of the room. His eyes find the screen almost expectantly, and yup, he´s watching the big tv Xander just as the second guy begins to pump faster. Comes with a shout, and slaps the tv Xander´s ass in a daze of excitement.
Angelus turns it off after a moment, and the sudden silence roars deafeningly after the overwhelming sounds of his rape.
My rape.. My rape.. I was raped, and it´s my rape, Xander thinks somewhat hysterically, choking back giggles. Oh God, he needs to vomit, to scream, to just tear out this ball of humiliation settling itself like a lead weight in his stomach.
The vampire comes over to him, sits down on the foot of the bed, turning his head so he can study Xander, who is stretched out lengthwise, his feet hanging off the side.
"How was that?" He asks after a moment.
Xander licks his lips, spits away another line of bloody spit hanging from his mouth.
"Good.. Best one so far."
Angelus nods.
"Thought so too."
And then the tears are back, and Angelus lets him cry, sobbing quietly into the soothing velvet, finding his only solace in the inanimate material.
The next day, Angelus spends most of his time dozing off, leaving Xander to his own devices. This is usually how the days go, but this time, Xander isn´t going to lay around and wait for him to get up. He swallows back the codeine and Tylenol that Angelus stole from the nearby hospital, even though it won´t do shit. He just wants to lay down in his quiet place, underneath the heavy wood dining room table. Cry the entire day away, the pain a full–fledged monster sinking its teeth into his back. Even his fucking toes ache.
In the elevator, he wraps his arms around himself, as if knowing the scrutiny the security cameras must be throwing his way. He put on the black sunglasses, another gift from Angelus, so there were less looks from people on the street, but the purple bruise around his eye still peeks out.
And he can´t very well put a paper bag over his head.
Although.. Angelus would like that.
Xander finds himself remembering the night when they tried that. That among many other things: plastic bags, pillows, telephone cord, bare hands.. Anything to smother him. Let Angelus have complete control of his breath, of his life. Of course, when doesn´t he have that?
He shakes the vivid memories off, feeling nauseated as always by the extent his masochistic streak ran.
The little ding alerts him that the elevator has reached the lobby, and the doors slide open with a pneumatic whoosh. He knew that most people experienced slight vertigo when taking elevator rides, but he´d been desensitized to it long ago. He actually rather enjoyed the minute long plunges; he envisioned the elevator´s wires snapping, crashing down to the basement.
Angelus had been renting the penthouse for at least four weeks before he´d found Xander. After killing Cordelia and Wesley, he´d made his way to New York, for no real apparent reason other than the fact that New York seemed to be grittier than L.A. And with the Slayer more than willing to kill her estranged boyfriend, he decided that it´d pay off to just stay away until he could think of some typically intricate demonic plan.
And then he´d had his little reunion with Xander, and the agenda had changed. Not completely; he was still going to have Buffy´s heart in his hand, literally, before she graduated. But a little side–indulgence was nothing for a demon to discriminate against.
Of course, it´d taken a week for Angelus to say any of this to Xander.
They hardly spoke before then; the vampire did all the communicating they needed.
Biting his lip until it bled, Xander walks carefully out into the lobby, wondering how it´s possible that he´s still able to walk after everything that´s happened. Of course, deep down he´s relishing the extreme pain. Each step is like some shiny new pain they haven´t even invented a word for yet; thoughtless, thrashing agony. The jolts of each movement are almost as if he´s being fucked again.
And to top that all off, as he walks outside, he is immediately hit with the agoraphobia he´s developed lately. It´s never anything that would force him into reclusion, but it´s strong enough sometimes to send him running back up to his highly amused lover.
Now, he leans against the wall of the apartment building, arms still wrapped around his chest, forcing himself to just *breathe*. Breathe calmly.. Inhale: hold it. Exhale: let it last.. Inhale: don´t think about pain.. Exhale: quit acting like such a fucking pussy.
No one really pays attention to him as they bustle along the busy sidewalks, drive down crowded streets, but he still feels the prickling paranoia of a thousand eyes dissecting him.
After he´s sure he won´t vomit or flee back to the penthouse, he begins to walk. Careful steps. Slow. Huddled to himself, trying not to draw any undue attention. Thinks:
(I´m a little teapot, short and stout..)
And tried not to let his mind drift. When it did, he usually ended up thinking not about the pain or Angelus, but about the life he´d left behind in Sunnydale. Tried not to do it, because whenever he did, it only added another facet to his misery. And who wanted that?
In the apartment, it was easy to do. To ignore that part of himself. Angelus always proved a formidable distraction.
But outside, in the day, alone and oddly weary, there was nothing he could do against the onslaught of memories. Remorse over Cordy´s murder.. Guilt over loving the man who killed her. More remorse for breaking Willow´s heart, and running away. Miserable, sad lump of shit that he was..
God, but being with Angelus was so devastatingly *good*. It was a nauseating thought, but the torment the vampire could inflict was just.. it was like a dream. Or a nightmare, but one you didn´t want to wake up from.
Self–hate and loathing; those terms had taken on new relevance for Xander.
He enters the drugstore quickly, glad to be inside a small building after the brief walk. Moves slowly now, hidden in the rows of shelves, favoring his throbbing backside.
No one pays him any mind, and he encourages it. Prays for it.
(don´t look at me i don´t even exist anymore)
Xander doesn´t know what he wants, but he knows whatever it is, it has to be strong. And there has to be a lot of it to do the trick.
Rows and rows of pills and capsules and little white bottles filled with little white promises. Antidotes and remedies and five– dollar panaceas.
He picks something; a large bottle with some shit emblazoned on the front. Pays for it, leaves the drugstore, moves on to the liquor store.
Half an hour later, Xander practically falls into the penthouse. Lets the door shut and lock behind him, fighting not to collapse on the floor.
He´s so tired, exhausted beyond even the need to sleep. And he can barely walk anymore. It´s more of a hobbling, shuffling thing. Like he´s been riding a horse for days straight, and it´s kinda funny, the spread–legged way he has to move. But anyone watching him would probably feel more pity than humor, if they knew the real reason for it.
Angelus is still in the bedroom; doesn´t appear he´s moved since Xander left.
(keep sleeping, Deadboy; nothing´s happenin´ out here)
Xander walks into the kitchen, and pulls out the various items he´s purchased, sits them like lifeless sentries on the black countertop.
One bottle of vodka; check. Two bottles of pills, in capsule form of course; check. And one wine glass––
Oh yeah, Xander thinks, turns to one of the cabinets and pulls out a particularly nice crystal glass. Long–stemmed, rimmed with gold. In between abuse–Xander sessions, the vampire actually has enough time to acquire tasteful kitchen ware.
He turns back to the other ingredients––
("I want to bake a cake")
and sets the glass down. The memory has whispered out from nowhere, and he lets himself remember, smiling. He hadn´t been smiling then, rushing around trying to save himself and the school from Jack and his zombie cohorts, but it was actually pretty funny. All the things he´d ever done with the Slayer and the gang. They´d all been pretty wonderful. Amazing.
Xander blinks back the sudden stinging in his eyes, inhales a deep unsteady breath, chest shaking.
Pours the vodka into the glass, fills it almost to the top. He´s never liked alcohol, but the bottle called to him. Nostalgia maybe. Sick, nauseating nostalgia. Remembers Alec swigging on the same bottle as if it were water.
Now the pills. Unscrews the cap, fishes out the cotton ball. Looks at the multicolored little deaths.
Xander takes one, pulls it apart so he can dump the powder into the glass. It dissolves somewhat, dispersing into the liquid, leaving a chalky cloud behind. He opens up another one, pours it in as well. And another, watching the white diaphanous blossoms.
Soundless tears rolling down his cheeks, adding tiny splashes to the liquor. He opens up another pill; and another.
Gets the whole bottle in before he stops. Adds some more vodka. Swishes everything around with an index finger, lower lip trembling as he looks at this. Things didn´t have to turn out this way. Did they? Was this how fate had planned out everything, or had he just taken some wrong turn along the way? Could he still back out, go back to Willow? To Giles.
Beg for Will to forgive him; try to find some way for them all to deal with Angelus before he killed them all. Oh, but he couldn´t do that now. Not anymore. One look from the vampire and he´d be kneeling in front of him, in full view of the Scoobies, begging to be hurt.
In the end, he just didn´t want to be saved... Why even bother with hope?
(oh, what would you all think of me now?)
Xander finishes mixing the concoction. Looks at it for a moment, not thinking of Willow, not thinking of the future, of Cordelia lying in the ground––
(i´msosorry)
Picks the glass up by the stem, trying not to spill it.
And then Angelus is breezing into the kitchen. Pauses long enough to grab the glass, yanking it out of Xander´s hand, and then he turns around, breezes right back out. It would have been hysterically funny had Xander been in the mood to laugh.
Instead, he stares after him until he hears the faint roaring of the toilet flushing. Then he swipes all the shit off the counter to the floor, ignoring the crash, and the inviting twinkle of sharp glass. He should have known Angelus wouldn´t let him do it; wasn´t finished with him yet. As if he could break him any further. Xander stands there for a few minutes, letting the silence and his endless future with Angelus wrap him up in cold arms.
WIP *Okay, next parts are being worked on.. My muses are rather belligerent these days. They hate school. Especially Physics *g*.
