Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: While I have taken the liberty of adding a few characters of my own creation, all of the original "ANGEL" and "BtVS" characters and their worlds belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and The WB. All are used without permission and no copyright infringement is intended. Like most that post, I'm broke, so please don't sue.
Spoilers: All seasons of ANGEL & BtVS.
Distribution: If you already have permission to archive my work, feel free to add this part as well. All others may share my work by forwarding it to other readers, but please ask before archiving it on a web site. Thanks.
Feedback: Please? It always leaves me feeling warm and fuzzy, just like thoughts of Angel... and since I can't have him.... ;-)
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"There
are so many dark places to be found in suffering.
But
you may need to sacrifice your pain-filled heart to find them..."
~
The Crystalline, "Dark"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Angel woke with a start, gasping for air he didn't need as his conscious mind pulled him from a dream he didn't want to leave.
For the second day in a row, while the sun passed overhead, the vampire slept in his windowless apartment and wandered back in time to 1753. Twice now he had surrounded himself with warm baths and scented soap. There had been pleasure and pain, and though Angel would never admit it to a living soul, he thoroughly enjoyed both. These weren't really dreams though. They were memories of actual events, memories that had chosen this especially confusing time in his life during which to resurface. He was all alone in LA, wondering constantly just why he had chosen to come back to the big, unfriendly city. He desperately missed Buffy. Every waking hour he had to fight the urge to return to her, or at the very least to call her. Add his new relationship with Willow to the mix and it almost made sense that he would escape the reality of his current existence by dredging up his past.
To be honest, Angel hadn't even remembered the first dream right after he had it. He had only awakened very aroused and with an overwhelming desire to bathe with lavender soap. He had taken care of both needs simultaneously by jerking-off in the shower, his hand and cock covered with suds produced by a bar of Yardley's Old English Lavender Soap.
But now Angel had returned from yet another bathing session which, like the one before it, had taken place some 247 years ago and the actual details of both dreams came back to him with amazing clarity, each so very similar and yet undeniably different. Same room, same tub, same soap. The same woman sharing both baths.
He had still been human when the first session had taken place, and he had been on the receiving end of some of the most loving care he'd ever known. The second bath had taken place only days later, but already he was a vampire. This time he bathed the woman, the one who had tried to steal his mortal heart thereby making herself the object of the first of many obsessions he would have over the course of his unnaturally long life.
Hard as he tried, Angel could not put a name to the face of the woman in his dreams, nor could he erase her image from his mind now that all of it was so very clear.
She had the most flawless skin he had ever seen. It was a pale ivory color with a light, golden shimmer where it had been kissed by the sun. The most sumptuously curved little ass... Angel's hands itched with the desire to grab hold of that ass, use it as a means of pulling her whole body up against his. She had such perfectly formed breasts. His mouth was watering. He longed to run his tongue across her nipples, to suck on them until they were hard pebbles between his lips. Angel felt an all too familiar burning sensation in his gums, followed by the twitching of flesh and muscles in his face that told him he'd soon loose his human mask if he didn't push from his mind the thought of tasting the hot blood in her breasts.
It was like the pieces of some macabre puzzle where starting to come together. It wasn't a complete picture by any means. Too many pieces were missing. Still, enough of them had fallen into place for Angel to realize that the woman in Galway was the creature who had been with him in Hell. But that made no sense at all. Hadn't he believed that the woman Acathla sent to him was the same witch-turned-vampire who had been in Xander's dream? That notion now seemed impossible because the woman in Angel's memories had been human. Or had she? No, no, he knew she had. He had felt her breath on his skin. She had a heart that beat beneath his hands when he fondled her breasts. She had been warm and soft and moist, very much full of life.
And she had been to hell. Perhaps she was languishing there even as Angel thought back on the woman she had been, or appeared to be, or wasn't, or... Or what? What did it matter? He had wronged her in life, he had wronged her in death, and he had wronged her in hell. Why? Because she had loved him.
Angel's emotions where running the gamut but they were having only a slight effect on his physical state. He was still aroused, but now he was dying from thirst as well. He decided it would be best to take care of the needs of the demon before he saw to the needs of the man. He quickly got out of bed and made his way to the kitchen.
For along time he stood before the open refrigerator door, looking past two quart-sized containers of pigs' blood and staring longingly at the plump plastic bags stored on the back of the top shelf.
No, he told himself firmly. He didn't need the blood in those packets. He had been steadfastly avoiding all human blood since nearly draining Buffy. He obtained the three bags he now had for emergency use only, for a time when he might be so badly injured that only human blood would ensure a speedy recovery.
One quart of pig's blood was warmed in the microwave. Angel took it over to the table and sat down. He didn't bother with a glass or a mug. He drank straight from the plastic container. No need for pretense. He was all alone in his new apartment. He was all alone in his new life, he reminded himself.
The smell of lavender was still all around him. Angel had been shocked when he'd returned just before dawn and found that every room in his apartment practically reeked with the fragrance. The scent was much stronger than it should have been, considering that there was only that one small bar of soap in his shower stall. Some sort of magic at work? He doubted that. Angel didn't feel any unusual currents in the air. Then again, he wasn't a natural at sensing magic and had to own up to the fact that the little tricks he'd learned wouldn't help him if strong magic was being used.
Angel stared down into the near empty container in his hand, watching the last few drops of blood slide down the inner wall to meet then pool at the bottom. With a shrug that no one saw, the vampire decided that maybe it was magic. Maybe that's what was making his memories to come back.
A flash of brilliant green eyes, a devastating smile, a small cloth-covered hand working its way between his thighs to clean his neither regions. With a wry chuckle, Angel glanced down to see his erection tenting the fabric of his boxer-shorts, straining against the silk as it reached out for that invisible hand.
Angel closed his eyes, giving in to the feeling of his arousal. He thought about heading for the shower and pleasuring himself just as he had done the day before. Oh, but yesterday it was with thoughts of Willow that he'd gotten himself off. Today Angel's mood was much darker. He couldn't call on those images again. No, a different redhead was now his desideratum. The memories of a time spent with that woman would sate his current sexual appetite.
Blood and bile started to work their way up Angel's throat as he realized just how twisted his thinking was. He didn't want to think back on the first bath with his nameless lover, the one that left him feeling clean and comforted and hopeful. No, it was the session during which he has bathed her that Angel now chose to replay once more. There was just so much pleasure to be found in recalling his depraved behavior!
Oh, he had been gentle with her, as gentle as he had ever been while still human. Showering the woman with kindness (or in this case, bathing her with it) was an essential part of his plan.
He had affected a leisurely manner as he rose from the hard cot on which he'd posed for her. He was nude, and while there was not an ounce of modesty left in him, he had covered himself for the sake of the game, wrapping the bed sheet around his waist and tucking the ends in tight so that it wouldn't slip off his hips. He crossed the room to where she still stood by the door, his approach unhurried and non-threatening. He slowly divested her of the filthy, blood-stained clothes she wore. He was thrilled to see that even her knickers were blood-stained. That led him to believe that she had held the boy, that she knew just what he had done to the child. Thinking that his earlier actions had hurt her just as much as they had hurt the boy made his already erect cock swell even more.
Once she stood naked before him, he led her over to the large wooden tub in which he had been bathed. He helped her step into the warm, clean water. Without speaking a word, she sat down, then he proceeded to wash the grime from her body. He made sure his actions were extremely tender, but only because by doing so he was being so very cruel.
He started simply, first wiping her face clean, then spending a long time washing her hair, relishing the way in which she gave herself over to his ministrations. He scrubbed her arms and hands next, taking care to get the dirt and blood out from between her fingers and under her nails. That done, he moved down to her upper chest, then lower, to her breasts. She didn't even flinch when he dragged the washcloth across her nipples, pausing to watch them pucker and peak before going on to the next part of her body.
He made her hold her long, wet hair up on top of her head, so that he would have unimpeded access to her neck. He spent many minutes caressing that long, pliant column with soap slicked fingers. She had actually whimpered when he paid special attention to her pulse points. Oh yes, she knew what he was yet she did not protest when he did this. In fact, he knew she would not deny him access to any part of her body. He hoped that she would hate herself later for having been so accommodating. She was going to live to regret having loved him in any way!
Her shoulders where the last thing he cleaned before he offered her his hand, which she took without question, and he pulled her up to stand in the tub. He walked around to stand behind her. His hands lingered for quite some time in the small of her back before they slid down to cup and knead the firm globes of her backside. She shuddered and started mewling again when his fingers slipped into the crack of her ass and worked their way down to her feminine lips. He was pleased to find them engorged with blood. It was proof that his actions were arousing her. And that was as it should be. For had she not excited him only days before? She had teased him, no matter how unwittingly, taunting him to the point where he had almost spilled his seed right into her delicate hands. Those same hands where now buried in his hair.
He was on his knees before her and her fingers were twisting and tugging at the locks of his loose mane, leaving them even more disheveled than usual. He cleaned her legs, eliciting a small series of giggles from her by tickling the tender spots behind her knees. He washed her belly, feeling the muscles there twitch as his hands moved over them.
For three or four minutes his finger played in the nest of curls covering her mound. The silky little springs were red, like the hair on her head, but they were much darker and glistened with bath water. They looked like they were made out of oddly coagulated blood. He wanted to taste them, so he did, sucking away the drops of water as his mouth moved about. He kissed her belly, then she giggled once more as he stuck the tip of his tongue into her navel.
Never before had he lavished such attention on a woman. He only did so then because the momentary pleasure he gave her would soon be replaced by heart shattering pain.
He had to quickly catch her about the waist because she'd almost toppled over when he had pushed one of his fingers up into her hot, tight channel. It had slid in easily enough for she was already so wet, her body wanting more from him.
Up to that point she had been relatively silent, gracing him with only a little light laughter and a few animalistic sounds. But as he slowly stroked her inner walls she found her voice. Before long she was pleading with him, alternately begging him to take her or to destroy her.
The memory of her words made Angel's ball tighten and ache. He was so close to coming. Even back then, her pleas had almost brought him to a climax.
He looked up at her. She was breathing heavily, practically panting. Her face was beautifully flushed, a fine sheen of perspiration gave it an almost ethereal glow. He saw no fear in her viridescent eyes, only a nearly unnerving combination of resolve and longing.
"Be done with it now," she demanded. "Do with me what you will, then go from here once the sun sets."
"Aye, I think I shall," he replied.
"But know this," she continued very calmly. "If you do not kill me, you would do best to be far from Galway before I awake, for I will most definitely hunt you down and drive a stake into your black heart."
He didn't doubt for a moment that she meant what she said. There was even a very small part of him that feared she was capable of carrying out her threat. But then she had bent down and kissed him and all he worried about was how long it was going to be before he could shove his cold hard cock deep inside her.
He tore off the wet sheet that still covered his lower body. He hauled her out of the tub and hissed with pleasure as he settled her in his lap, impaling her on his marble-like staff.
****
Somewhere
along the line, Angel had left the kitchen. Through dazed and half-closed
eyes, he spotted his boxers laying on the floor a few feet away. He was
lounging in a big leather chair he had picked-up at a second hand furniture
store. One hand was wrapped firmly around his cock. The shaft was slippery
and when he glanced down he saw that the head was fully exposed, his foreskin
pulled back. A copious amount of pre-cum was weeping out of the slit at
the tip. He was thoroughly disgusted but he was also too far gone to stop.
For a few minutes, Angel watched his hand glide up and down his erection. He groaned each time he dared to run his thumb around the head. With his free hand he reached down to fondle his sac. His hips arched of their own volition and Angel could feel the muscles in his thighs and calves burn under the strain he put on them. He threw his head against the back of the chair. His hands were very busy, one moving faster and faster, the other squeezing harder and harder. It wouldn't be long now!
Angel closed his eyes and slipped back into his memories of that lost day.
Over the course of a week he had killed every one of his past lovers that he could find, but he hadn't raped any of them. The only woman he had fucked since being turned was his sire and her body was as cold as his own. Now he was surrounded by warmth. He had waited for this moment, waited for this particular woman and he was pleased beyond the telling of it.
Suddenly he realized that she was attempting to ride him, trying her damnedest to move up and down on his cock. He tightened his hold on her, keeping her as still as possible.
"Oh, no, you don't!" He softly growled at her. "I haven't waited this long only to have you bring this to a quick end," he whispered.
He was thrilled to discover that he could be infinitely patient when it suited him. He would get them both off, but at a pace he set. He would make her climax and then find his own release, but not until the time was right, not until the very second when the most damage would be done. And he would do it all so lovingly. He felt no desire to hurt her physically. He already took care of that dark desire when he had ravaged her doting boy just scant hours ago. Oh no, by being gentle and attentive he would leave her even more broken than if he mauled her.
He captured her sweet lips with his own. He didn't deepen the kiss until her tongue sought his. After plundering her mouth long enough to leave her breathless, he laid her down, taking care not to withdraw himself from her heat as he moved on top of her. Then he proceeded to take her right there on the cold, hard wooden floor.
Ever so slowly and with unnatural gentleness he made love to her. He took her to the edge again and again only to pull her back at the last possible moment. Before long she was writhing under him. Her eyes were wild, her hair a tangled mass beneath her head. She was so wanton, completely lost in the passion of their coupling. In the short time that he had known her, she had never looked so lovely.
For a fleeting moment he forgot about his initial plan. He only wanted to spill his seed inside of her. He quickly pushed that desire aside, but he had to look away from her face. He bent his head and began sucking her tits in an attempt to distract himself. He was still pumping into her. All too soon she was once more on the edge of an orgasm only this time she caught him off-guard. She took a firm hold of his head and pulled it up so that she could whisper in his ear.
"I will follow you anywhere if you simply ask me to."
And there it was, the moment he had been waiting for. He had broken her!
One, two, three more thrusts and she started to fall. Her walls contracting around his aching cock nearly set off his own orgasm. It fucking hurt to hold back but she was hot and broken and coming and coming apart all around him. He was soaking blissfully in a warm bath filled with her pleasure and pain! Oh the beauty of it! And in the midst of it all she was able to shock him again by crying out his name as she crashed. It was not the name he had used when she first met him. It was his new name that fell from lips.
"ANGELUS!" She shouted.
The last of his staying power was stripped away by that single word. With one final shove he pushed his throbbing cock as far up into her body as it could go. He was buried so deep inside her that he could feel his cold ejaculate splashing against the entrance to her womb and he felt as deep satisfaction in knowing that nothing of his would ever grow there.
Once their climaxes had subsided, he gathered her up and carried her over to the bed. He picked up the rough wool blanket that had been folded so neatly and placed at the foot of the bed. He would have preferred to cover her with satin or silk, but he had to settle for what was available. He wrapped them both up in the blanket, then laid down on the bed with her body draped over his.
Sunset was still hours away. Until then he would sleep peacefully with her in his arms.
Angel retrieved his discarded underwear and made a half-hearted attempt at wiping the goo off of his belly as he made his way back into the kitchen. This time he shoved aside the remaining quart of animal blood and grabbed the plastic bag closest to him. He tore viciously into the packet with his fangs, consuming the contents cold. Warm was always better. Fresh was better still, but the outcome was the same. The rush was just as sweet.
Angel was no longer horny. In fact, all his thirsts had now been quenched. Sunset was still a few hours away. It was time to get some sleep.
He made is way to his bed, tossing his soiled boxer shorts into the hamper while en route to his destination.
When Angel woke up again he knew it was late. A quick glance at the small clock on the bedside table revealed that it was nearly ten. He was annoyed with himself for having over slept. As he stretched, preparing to rise, something cracked and tugged at his belly, making it itch. Scratching himself, Angel felt the thin film of dried cum that was flaking off and causing the itching. That discovery was really nothing new. Nocturnal emissions were common enough occurrences for him, only this time, for the life of him (or the death of him), he couldn't remember the dream that had brought on this latest one.
Angel made a bee-line for the shower. He turned on the water in the stall and waited for it to get warm. The steam started to rise and fill the room. So too did the soft fragrance of lavender. It was sickening! As he reached inside the stall to remove the offending bar of soap, Angel found himself wondering just what had possessed him to buy such a thing, let alone bathe with it! He promptly tossed the detestable soap into the trash can, then brought a bar of Ivory soap out from under the sink. He unwrapped the plain white cake and held it up to his nose. Pleased with crisp, clean scent, he stepped into the shower.
End
Entry 29-5