Bruised 3
The mark on his inner thigh heals into a twisted little line and Xander finds himself rubbing it. Often.
Anyone who sees him might think he´s stroking his dick – and said dick would be rather large considering the location the friction is centered – but it´s the scar he needs to touch. It burns him constantly, like he was bitten by something with poison in its mouth.
And that´s pretty much the case.
So it´s not a shock when Xander ends up sitting on his bed with a flashlight and his mother´s hand mirror, legs spread as he tries to balance the mirror on the rumpled sheets and bends down to see it, light catching the thready silver twists that stretch over pale smoothness in the dim. He needs the other hand free to touch it, needs to see his hand and his skin and his scar twinned in the spotty little reflection. He´s naked, and he´s hard and the only thing he wants to do is touch the place where he was marked. It´s some weird compulsion, a mix of desire and something not as identifiable but definitely dark.
And that´s not exactly the case, either. He wants more than that; wants to feel the marking again, to be less terrified and more aware this time so he can relish the puncture and the draining and the possession that is inherent in the act. Wants that part of the whole encounter because he knows somehow that it´s special. Singular. How many people are there spinning in this world tonight in the exact moment and reality occupied by Xander, living and breathing and bearing *his* mark?
He´s guessing it´s larger by one than anyone would believe.
With this thought in mind, he scoots back against the wall, and adjusts the mirror again so he can see that brand on his skin. He drops the flashlight, lets it roll off the bed with a muffled little thump, and glances over to the door for a visual confirmation that he really did remember to lock it. And once he has that last reassuring look, hismind shuts down.
His head leans back against the wall and he takes himself in hand, the whole length of him hot and slippery, and all that just from the scar, just from looking at it, touching it. Xander´s hands are both moving over heated flesh, cock and thigh, strokes slow and in unison, and he cannot tell which feels better, which feels hotter...dirtier...
And when the tapping comes on his window, he is so startled that he almost shoots right there, grasps himself convulsively from the shock, and flushes from hairline to toes in horrible embarrassment to think someone has caught him doing ... this. Not only naked, not only touching himself, but also revelling in being owned.
Of course it´s Angelus staring in, watching him like a wolf tracks a rabbit. Xander isfrozen in that stare, pinned to the wall, his heart thundering along in what he hates to admit is more excitement than anything else. As if to confirm this thought, his cock gives a throbbing lurch in his hand, and he swallows down about a gallon of saliva before loosening his hold on the painfully erect column of flesh. The white oval of Angelus´ face seems to hover out there in the dark. He´s crouched like some modern day gargoyle, eyes black and staring at the pale offering of the boy´s nudity, mouth in a relaxed line that suggests nothing of the mood he might be in.
"Hello, Xander," Angelus says, as conversationally as if they had met for dinner somewhere and were going to discuss something of mutual and tedious almost–interest to them both. As if he isn´t perched on the roof outside of Xander´s window and knocking very gently on the glass, watching the boy masturbate and fondle the mark he has left on him. "Open the window."
Xander grins at him, a grin full of absolute and horrible glee. "You really think I´m an idiot, don´t you?" is the reply, although he makes the initial move to get to the edge of the bed, and Angelus sees; suppresses his smile because that would cue Xander that he has done something, made some faux pas, and the boy is clever.
"I can´t come in, you know that." Pauses. "Unless you want me in there." Smiles. "Do you want me? To come in?" Oh–so–deliberate in his enunciation of each word, layering on the innuendo like caramel, too sweet to deny, too thick to ignore.
And Xander swallows again, feet on the floor, standing up in a puddle of moonlight that traces his tall lithe frame with silver and shadow, his cock glistening as it bounces slightly with the movement. Too hard for it to get a lot of motion going. And yes, just that much harder now than it was when he was alone and stroking it.
"I´m pretty sure you know the answer to that one." Xander´s voice has lost all conversational overtones. Instead it´s strained, and Angelus watches the boy fight his thoughts, sees each side gain and lose and gain again in the incredibly expressive darkness that is in his eyes. The way those eyes shift and go soft is more telling than the steps he is taking towards the window without even realizing it.
One large hand splays out against the window and Xander looks at it. Remembers it, on his throat. On his thighs. On his cock. //Oh fuck, let´s not go there// And he wonders how he got from the bed to the window without remembering, without telling his body to move, and what had his brain been doing while his legs were off doing their own thing like that? His brain, happy to be free of the usual constraints placed on it, had been merrily wandering down memory lane. Picking out choicehighlights of the exact way that body out there had looked naked, had felt on top of him, sliding over him, coming in his mouth, down his throat. The weight and the chill of him.
Xander unlatches the window and hey, apparently the brain cells devoted to self preservation have managed to kick the sex drive on its ass for a moment, because he stops short of sliding it up. Blinks rapidly at the image of his hand on the glass mimicking the larger one on the other side. Understands now what it means to be really helpless, to be overcome by his own urges, to be out of control. He´s so aware of what it would mean to open the window and invite him in; danger and sex andkisses and just having that feeling of being someone´s *anything* for a while.
His mind, oh, it really wants to be the part of him that wins. But the whole time he´s still sliding open the window, so the barrier now is just the magic one, the one that keeps the demon out.
Angelus still has his hand there, pressed against the barrier, open in his own invitation and Xander just wants to take it. Isn´t surprised to see his own hand reach out, is even less surprised than that to find the grip that meets him is hardand rough and it jerks him right through the open window, his upper torso now outside with Angelus, his lower half in the safety of the house. He can´t see the barrier there, but he swears he can feel it. It´s cutting right through him, bright blue like a laser. He imagines it burning an arc through his midsection that leaves his hips and legs warm even as they are pressed painfully against the wall and the sill, andhis upper body cool out here in the darkness.
Angelus has his hand clamped around Xander´s wrist, and after the initial jerk, he is just holding. Steady pressure but definite restraint.
"Come out and play, Xander," he says with a grin. The roof looks wide and level from here, and Xander knows it will hold them both easily. That the porch beneath it is empty as is the street his house sits on. The whole town goes indoors at sunset, and since they are a few hours past that point there´s drawn curtains and closed blinds and no one to see him slither out and be naked in the moonlight.
And that´s how it feels when he comes out, like he´s a serpent, oily and slipping on his belly, hips twisted to avoid the rough edges against his cock. The roofing is bumpy and harsh to his knees and he whistles a sharp intake of breath when he rests his whole weight there.
"I can´t believe I´m doing this." He´s said it out loud, proof again that he has no control over his basic motor skills, like the one that keeps his mouth shut. But there´s no ripping comment forthcoming from the vampire. He pulls Xander closer with another jerk of his arm and Xander grunts a little as he leaves skin behind on the surface of the shingles. The warm oozing in his knees is not even registering on theradar now.
He feels too many other things: cool night air, cooler leather of the coat he´s pressed against, hard body under that duster that echoes the hardness of his own. Beautiful beautiful face coming down to his so that Xander loses focus and sees blurs of white and dark and pink, and all of that is just his mouth. The mouth that opens ever so slightly and utters words that take a few seconds more than usual to make actualsense in Xander´s brain.
"You only do what you want to do, boy." A hand comes up to take Xander´s chin in a light hold, almost a caress, and forces his head up just a bit so that he has to see the dark eyes staring into his own. "You know you want this. You walked across the room. You unlocked the window, and you put your hand out here for me to take it. You could have stayed in that room. You could have told me to fuck off."
There´s a pause now, and Xander thinks he might die if that mouth stops talking for much longer. But then it´s better and it´s worse because he´s being kissed, his mouth forced wide open with a savage thrust of tongue that makes his thighs quiver, and he finds himself grabbing Angelus´ jacket to keep his balance, tearing his wrist from the other man so he can hold on tightly, kissing back as hard as he can. Xander´sown tongue sweeps into the open mouth and it´s so familiar to him already that it shakes him up more than anything else has done.
He knows this now, he´s come to think of this as *his* mouth, as *his* tongue, those teeth that will soon be fangs are *his*, to lick and taste and suck and... oh God and devour. He finds the ripple in Angelus´ canine that his own tongue fucking well *remembers* and licks it over and over again, much as his hands have been worrying that scar on his thigh. And it seems that the other man knows what he´s doing because Xander can feel him growling as the tension and desire between themgrows. It´s like static electricity and every time Xander´s naked body moves against Angelus, it makes the charge that much more powerful.
Angelus grabs the boy´s hair in both hands and drags him away, breaking the kiss and leaving Xander´s chest heaving. He holds the boy´s hair tight, tighter, tightest as he brings his face in so that the words he says next won´t be missed.
"You don´t want me to fuck off, do you Xander?" He whispers it into Xander´s ear, practically purrs this next statement: "You want me to fuck you." His cool tongue flicks out to catch the tender lobe, then the inner curve. And Xander isn´t sure if it´s the words or the tongue or the truth of it that makes him moan and quiver and grab the jacket even tighter.
Because he does want it, wants the rest of what they´ve been edging towards, wants to be filled and fucked full. When he finds his voice and he manages to say yes, it comes out with more force than Xander would have thought he could give it. He wants to drive his tongue into that cool mouth again and pulls frantically against the hands that hold his hair, feeling the burning it creates in his scalp and realizing it´s not something he can get free from. Not until Angelus lets him go. And he thinks...no, he *knows*... if he could ask for it, ask for the freedom and the kisses,that he would get them. Would get them and everything else he wants, everything that Angelus is going to give him.
He opens his mouth to ask, to fucking well beg for all of it, but before he has to make himself say the words, he´s free. The big hands that had clenched tight in his hair aren´t holding him anymore; they´re over Xander´s hands, removing them from the death grip on the leather, pressing him back so there´s no contact. There´s a huge rushing feeling of icy fear that goes with that removal, and for a moment Xander teeters on panic because...because //Because he´s rejecting me// but then it´s OK. It´s all OK because Angelus is just taking the jacket off. And he´s not even laughing at the panic that must have been pouring out of Xander´s skin for that second or two of utter abandonment, so Xander relaxes as much as he can and takes in a small degree of comfort.
Tentatively, he reaches out to the buttons on the vampire´s black shirt, head resolutely down, not wanting to see if there´s going to be some kind of disapproving look in his eyes, or anything else to make him falter. His fingers, never very nimble to begin with, are suddenly stupid and he finds to his absolute horror that he can´t make the buttons work. Swallowing dryly, he keeps trying and trying, and actually manages to get one out of its button hole before those big cool hands take over, brushing Xander´s away. But the brushing movement isn´t cruel or dismissive, and instead of working the buttons, those hands take the edges of the shirt and just tear it open, exposing a broad chest the color of marble.
With a shock, Xander finds himself grabbed and tossed to the rooftop. He has enough time to think about how much it´s going to tear up his skin before he lands on something surprisingly soft. As the heavy body of the other man comes down on top of him, Xander realizes he´s laying in the discarded duster and then the mouth is on him, devouring him. Sweep of tongue between his lips and Xander opens as wide as he can, gratefully taking in the whole of it again, sucking and being rewarded with a growl that makes Xander shudder beneath him.
Hips pressing up, he squirms for the friction of cloth on his cock as his hands grip broad shoulders and squeeze in frustrated need. Angelus nudges one knee between Xander´s thighs and the boy spreads them willingly. A sliver of doubt goes through his mind – the posture is nothing if not vulnerable – but before the sliver can grow to anything worth paying attention to, there´s a mouth at his throat and a cool tongue licking, and he knows about the other places to be marked so there´s just a thrill of desire instead of panic.
Xander makes his own growling sounds and his hands are at the waistband of Angelus´ pants. His fingers aren´t stupid anymore, desire has made them brilliant and clever, and the button pops open, the zipper slides right down, and Xander´s hand is full of the prize it was seeking. He´s thrilled to find it not just hard but wet, slick with precome, and his hand slides easily over the length of it. When he reaches the base and tugs, Angelus bites down on Xander´s neck with thankfully blunt teeth and mutters, "Oh fuck" into the skin. The words are thick and heavy, and the pain of the bite is just enough to make Xander slam his hips up, trapping his hand between their bodies. He´s panting now, and all it´s going to take is one more sensation to throw him headlong into release, and he just doesn´t want that yet, not yet, needs to be this wound up for the courage to carry him into the act he asked for moments ago.
Of course, this is the moment Angelus chooses to push back, and when Xander slips his hand free it´s nothing but cock to cock friction. With a groan he couldn´t muffle if he wanted to, Xander comes, hears Angelus chuckle somewhere near his ear and jerks spasmodically until finally he stops moving altogether and lies there with the warm evidence of his excitement sandwiched wetly between them.
He hitches in his breath and sighs, but Angelus is nowhere near ready to move. He nibbles on Xander´s ear and purrs at him a little more, lets his hands run over the boy´s thighs and pumps his cock just the tiniest bit now and then. Under these irresistible ministrations, Xander´s cocks swells to life in no time and soon he´s whimpering and pushing back.
As if this was the signal to move on, Angelus gets to his knees. He looks down at Xander who is sprawled out in the most reckless image of wanton abandonment the vampire has seen in decades, and manages to spread the boy´s legs wider with a graceful movement of his own that also allows him to drop his pants completely.
"Oh Xander, you are such a pleasant surprise."
Xander licks his lips and fumbles for an answer to that, but nothing crawls out of the mud that is brain right now. All he can do is lay there and look up, take in the way the moonlight is making the vampire´s skin glow, and just *want*... something. Everything. He turns away from the intensity of Angelus´ stare and finds his face muffled by the folds of the coat. He is suddenly drowning in the smell of the man above him, scent of his sweat and his sex and the blood he´s taken. And while his face is in there and his brain is floundering, there´s suddenly hands on him again.
Rather than look, rather than see it, Xander presses his face deeper into the jacket and lets himself just feel those fingers as they swirl through the come on his belly and tickle down his dick and graze over the softness of his sack before finding the sensitive place right beneath it. Those torturous fingers rub there for a moment before slipping lower to the puckered opening where Xander both wants and fears them. He moans wildly into the jacket and then bites down on it when one wet finger presses itself into him.
It hurts for one brief second and then it moves again, deeper inside of him and it hurts still but in a better way, a good hurt and he reminds himself to breathe so he won´t miss the rest of what´s going to happen. He is in love with the shield of this jacket that he´s hiding in while his body is enjoying the way it´s being used, because if Xander had to look, had to see it happening, he would just die. He wouldn´t be able to spread his legs wider, the way he is now, certainly not if he were completely aware of it.
"Xander." It´s like Angelus reads his mind, because just as he´s losing himself in the joy of not–really–being here, Xander is summoned back to reality by the voice his brain immediately obeys. He has to look up and see that face, eyes more gold than they were before, mouth parted and full, and tongue visible. If Xander looks down, he´ll see that hand disappearing between his legs. He gulps down air instead and locks his stare and trembles with the feeling of penetration that´s racing through him.
"Xander," he says again, voice deeper and finger pushing, pushing until
"OH!" The sound is ripped out of the boy when that finger hits...something...inside of him and it´s like having a jolt of electricity hit every nerve ending all at once. Angelus´ eyes go completely golden then for the briefest moment, his face blurs to demon and then it´s back again. But Xander can tell that it´s not too much longer before there´s nothing but demon here with him. And that gives him a nice little zap as well.
"I want..." Xander is shocked to find his voice and stutters to silence. Bites his bottom lip when the finger slides out of him leaving him feeling open, and so tries again to say what he is feeling. "I want ..."
Angelus cocks his head to one side and then puts his fingers back on Xander´s belly, drawing lazy circles. Xander´s cock twitches at his touch, and he waits for the boy to finish. "You want?" he prompts, voice quiet and low and sexier than Xander remembers it ever being before.
Xander´s eyes slide closed, and he lets his whole body take in everything – the soft leather beneath him, the smell of the night and the vampire, the whispering of the leaves on the tree over the house. The fingers that are gathering more moisture from his skin and wrapping around his throbbing cock, stroking it with torturously slow movements.
"You want, Xander?" Angelus´ voice is taunting him again and without opening his eyes at all, Xander nods his head. The fingers leave his cock and go straight back between his legs and he arches into the pressure this time so that there´s no slowness in it. He´s just not empty there anymore and that´s what he wants, that´s exactly what he wants. There´s that electric shock of pleasure again as the finger touches him and he moans again, this time a word. "Yesssss."
There´s more pressure now and Xander wriggles a little but it´s still good. He can feel those muscles down there getting looser, softening up. Angelus is fingering him with exquisite care and he doesn´t want to wonder why the other man is taking such care, is being so gentle, he just wants him to keep doing it. He wants him to keep slipping in and out and touching that perfect spot over and over again because he´s going to come in about five seconds. Xander´s hand reaches for his own cock, he needs to touch himself, but Angelus grabs the hand and stops him.
"No, no, you don´t touch," he says, smiling like a predator and making Xander want to run away. And he would run, he really would, if he didn´t feel so fucking good right now, if he didn´t want to come so badly. So he jerks his wrist towards himself, hoping the motion will carry Angelus down towards him, but it doesn´t work. Angelus doesn´t move, he just keeps working his finger in and out and smiling.
"Then you touch," Xander groans. "Touch me."
"I *am* touching you." There´s a deep stroke in to compliment this statement and a curl of the finger to add a little extra emphasis and there´s no argument from Xander. Just another moan and a brief sigh at the end of it. "Does this mean you want more now?"
"Yessss," hisses out between clenched teeth. That´s an answer purely on reflex and no thought goes into it, just as no thought goes into the jerking motion of his hand when he tries to free it again and fails. He feels the finger leave him and thinks about protesting but sees that hand that was just driving him insane wrap itself around Angelus´ cock. He sees the way the cock gets glittery as the wetness spreads from head to base and takes note of how much bigger it is than what was already inside him. He starts to move then, a panicky flurry that´s immediately quelled because his wrist is still held. Angelus doesn´t even spare him a glance.
Instead he continues to stroke himself and hold tight to Xander. When he is ready to move, he does it with a speed that would be frightening if it didn´t end with Xander pinned beneath the whole length and weight of him. Instead of fright, this produces a wave of desire and a need to push his hips frantically up so that his cock rubs against Angelus´. He notes almost absently that his legs are still spread wide open and that Angelus is slipping down his body and the friction is wonderful, although the reason for the movement itself is a little terrifying.
Then it´s right there, right at the opening and Xander is frantically trying to remember how it was before when there were much smaller things pressing to be inside. "No, wait," he says frantically and he writhes in a desperate bid to postpone this. Instead what he finds he´s done is pressed himself down and the pain is huge, it´s awful and he hates it and he wants to get away...until. Until it´s not quite so awful. He sees the cords standing out on Angelus´ arms and in his neck as he remains perfectly still and lets Xander get used to the sensations, the delicious pain. The control on his behalf floors Xander and he feels his cock throb in realization, and that makes him push himself down again, and both of them groan this time.
"Enough, boy," Angelus growls and the demon is loose. Xander gasps as he is fully entered in a slow measured push, and the ridged game face comes down close to his. Xander´s legs are brought to his shoulders, and he´s curled up and wide open and the demon is fucking him with expert strokes. Each one brings the head of Angelus´ cock into contact with that amazing place inside of Xander, making them both gasp and moan, and in no time at all Xander is coming, hot liquid shooting all over his chest.
Another two strokes and Angelus is growling and coming, filling Xander as he pushes in harder and holds there, gripping his thighs and leaving scratches and fingerprint shaped bruises that Xander will see for days afterwards. His head is back and Xander is waiting. But when he looks down again, the demon is hiding and Xander is completely shocked at the disappointment that fills him.
"Aren´t you going to..." he asks quietly, pausing to think of how to phrase it. Tries again with, "Are you going to do the rest?" He flushes at how stupid that sounds, but he wants to know, he wants it to happen.
"What´s the rest, Xander?" But he´s smirking now. He knows what the rest is, he´s going to make him say it anyway, make him ask for this when he gave him the other without any torture at all.
"You know the rest," Xander says, backing up and breaking the two of them apart so suddenly that he can´t process that sudden emptiness inside him, the way it feels to be full one moment and then not. He´s too intent on getting the other part, the part he is looking forward to. The marking. The possession. The part that says he´s owned.
"Tell me anyway. I want to hear you say it."
So he grits his teeth and he looks full on into his eyes and he asks for it, begs for it, because he needs it so badly. "I want you to feed from me again. I want that. Again."
A condescending smile answers him before the gameface appears, and Angelus bends to the bare thigh. "Do you want another mark to touch, Xander?" he whispers as he licks the skin and Xander shivers. Before he can answer, there is suddenly a flare of pain and he yelps, more in surprise than in hurt. The pain is nothing like it was the first time and Xander loses himself in the feeling. There´s needles and daggers, and there´s an odd sensation as the blood is sucked away, and Xander reaches his hand down to touch Angelus´ head as he´s feeding from him.
Then the deep pain is gone, replaced by a little soreness when the vampire´s tongue licks at the spot to stop the bleeding. His new mark is just a little higher than the old one and later when he looks at this one, Xander will be absurdly pleased with himself.
Somewhere along the line, this all got way out of hand, and Xander wonders where that was. He watches as Angelus dresses himself and ignores the drying come that stains his pants. His mind slows down enough to begin thinking about those things that he manages to suppress when he´s more on guard and less worn out. Things like why he´s still alive right now, and not lying in a drawer with a toe tag and a complexion like Deadboy´s. Like why he´s tested his luck with the vampire, stretched the trust barrier until you could read the fucking phone book through it, offered his blood like it was something he was going to throw out anyway, so help yourself. He has issues, he knows this, but he wonders what good it does Angelus to treat him like a pet when his dead body would be such an effective statement in the mindfuck games he plays with Buffy.
Xander wonders about all of these things, and realizes he really doesn´t want to know right now. So he waits and tries not to touch the sore spot on his thigh until later, when he´s alone and he needs it. Needs the reminder that he´s a part of something, a piece of something. He´s gotten himself into something that´s bigger than anyone would believe him capable of handling, and Xander is surviving it quite nicely, thanks for your concern.
He´s got the scars to prove it.
