Tomorrow is Our Yesterday's Today
Author: Shara Nesu
Feedback: Shara-Nesu@supanet.com. You like Angel seducing William?
Archived: Shara's place: http://www.shara-nesu.supanet.com/index.html
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone it all belongs to Joss etc. *sigh* Still.
Spoilers: End of Season 3 Angel: Tomorrow.
Category/Pairings: William/Angel *first time*
Rating: NC17 Warning: M&M Sex
Distribution: Want, Have, Take.
Summery: Angel stuck at the bottom of the ocean, has an interesting visitor. He's promised a way out of his underwater prison, but can he carry it off?
Dedicated to KLD, in Honour of her birthday, and so many thanks to my betagoddess Helen.
Tomorrow is Our Yesterday's Today
By Shara Nesu
Angel’s POV:
Silence... Silence...
There was once a time when I enjoyed the tranquillity of silence. Just sitting there enjoying the peace and quiet. No talking. No people. Nothing. Just me and my thoughts. I liked to brood, as Cordelia used to say, in the dark, alone... in the silence...
Silence...
“Connor!” I scream again, even though my lungs are bursting. The air is almost gone. Thankfully, I don’t need to breathe. I can save the little that is left to scream now and then... but it’s not enough. I can’t take the sound of my own voice any longer.
“Connor!” I yell again.
Oh god, why? Why did this happen? What ever drove him to do this to me! His father! I brought him into this world - I took him from his mother’s ashes. I loved him with every essence of my being. Why?
“Wh...”
Suddenly, all the air is gone from my solid metal coffin. At last there is total silence. I wanna scream, but my lungs cannot draw breath. Only one word echoes through my mind.
Why? Why? Why?
3 months later:
//Sing a song of sixpence,
A pocket full of rhyme...//
Time? Plyme? Pyle?
I don’t remember the words... Any words. I tried to sing Manilow but the lyrics vanished from my mind. All things fade in time...
Time? What is time but a joke on me? This is my great redemption. I wonder if I’m going to be human soon. Gods, I hope so! Then, there won’t be any air to breathe and I will be released from the silence. I’m praying that hell is quiet... or will it be heaven. Am I forgiven? Am I damned? Why am I here? I’ve forgotten.
“Oh Angel.”
A voice... Words...
I open my eyes into the darkness... yet, it isn’t dark. There is a light before my face. A face before mine...
I try to laugh, but my body just shakes. I’ve finally lost it. My sanity has left me - At last!!!
“Oh Angel, look what he’s done to you.”
It’s a soft, feminine voice. Yet, I cannot understand how she can talk down here under the ocean. The air ran out months ago. Yep, insanity has finally arrived. Yet, I’m not sad. At least, the silence has ended.
“Angel, I’m so sorry. I never thought this would happen to you. I was thinking lots of brooding and misery because I stood you up, but not this.”
Am I standing?
“I couldn’t stay, Angel. I love you so much, but I couldn’t stay. I need to do more. This... I need to make a difference just as you do. Oh Angel, I love you.”
I feel the face... those lips... touch my own. I wanna feel something, but there is nothing. Just light. No warmth. No cold. Nothing.
“I have a message though. You are forgiven, Angel. You messed with dark magic, but you are forgiven. They sent me to give you a message. They have a saviour for you. I wished it was me, but I can’t leave this fight. I shall always love you, forever. There is a problem, Angel.”
Oh yeah, there always is. What is my redemption, but one big problem. Wait... Wait, I recognise that voice... Cordelia? Was that her name? Cordy. I loved her... didn’t I?
“Your saviour isn’t coming. Something went wrong, but you have a chance to put it right.”
The light gets brighter and I close my eyes against the intensity. It burns, and I wish for darkness again. Oh please, Cordelia. If you loved me - just release me. Drive a stake through my heart. Anything!
“You have to go back. Make your saviour love you.”
For the first time I feel something. A hand touches my face and I weep with the contact.
“I want you to go, Angel. Make them love you as much as I do. Please, Angel. All you have to do is say - Yes!”
Say yes? Is that all?
How the hell am I supposed to say ‘yes?’ There is no fucking air!!!
Yes! I wanna scream. I wanna say it over and over, but I can’t. I can’t! I can...
There is suddenly a flash of light, brighter than anything I’ve ever seen. Brighter than my memories of the sun. It burns my eyes, making me scream.
“Cordelia!” I bellow...
I open my eyes and see light. Movement. Houses. People! Oh my god! I’m free!
I fling back my head and laugh.
“I’m free!!!”
People scurry away from me. Men and women dressed in very strange clothing. Clothing I haven’t seen in... well, a good hundred years.
What the hell is going on?
Suddenly, a young man pushes past me. His face is flushed and he’s unsteady on his feet.
“Sorry, I’m so sorry,” he mumbles. His face covered with a long, dark, golden fringe of hair. Small wire spectacled eyes never look up, and he stumbles away.
“Come back here, ya bloody perv!” Another male pushes past me, shaking his fist at the smaller man. This one is gruff and powerfully built - a common labourer from the looks of it.
“Bloody perv! Look at my daughters will ya! I’ll rip yer bloody eyes out!” The foul-mouthed man chases the youth down an alley, shaking his huge fists.
I haven’t a clue what has happened. I don’t know how I got here, but from the speech I’ve heard, this must be England. From the clothing - late in the 19th century? And that boy... he looked so familiar. Yet, I cannot place him. For some reason, I’m drawn to follow them. I run down the darkened alley and find that the boy has been cornered.
“Please sir, it isn’t as you think. I’m a poet. I was talking...”
“Ya a bloody perv!” the man shouts in return.
The youth looks up for the first time and I gasp. Pure blue eyes look into mine. He’s amazed at my presence... he’s...
Oh my god, it’s... it’s...
The large, burly man is moving again, drawing back a muscled fist and it flies through the air towards the youth’s face. I yell, feeling my face change, and attack. I haven’t a clue what I’m doing. Or why. I just act. My fist smashes into the back of the man’s head and he crumples to the ground. My hand is bloodied, but I hear the bastard’s heartbeat. Thankfully, he isn’t dead.
I turn to the youth and... oh, he’s fainted.
“William,” I whisper. I lean down and touch the soft golden hair. Long and fine, and as soft as silk as it falls through my fingers. “William.”
~*~*~*~
The local inn is dark and dreary. This must be the poorer part of London. The few customers present are poorly dressed and all in need of a good bath. This was the only place I could think of coming to, though. I picked up the unconscious William and carried him here. I told the barmaid he’d passed out from the drink. She laughed and brought us some terrible smelling beer.
He’s been out for quite a while. I could shake him awake but for some reason I don’t want to. I haven’t a clue what is happening to me. How I got here. I remember Cordelia appearing and telling me I have to make someone love me. That I had to find my saviour. Is William my saviour? No... Surely not. I’m not gay, for one thing. Even Angelus who would shag anything, stopped at men. Well, mainly because there were always plenty of women around and Darla. She was always good for a quick, hard fuck.
I don’t understand why I don’t wake William. It’s just that... I haven’t seen the human William before. I only ever met the fledgling that Drusilla turned and then couldn’t raise. That pleasure was passed to me. I made him call me Sire. I made him respect me. No... I met Spike. William died in Drusilla’s arms. This William will die.
I’m amazed how different they look. William is all warm-soft, and his features seem less sharp. Spike was all sharp corners and vicious tongue. I reach out and stroke a fine hair away from his angled cheekbones. I feel his heat from here; it burns my fingers so close to his flesh. The soft, dark golden hair that makes me shiver with its caress.
So slowly the living William opens his eyes. I’m amazed at the intense blue colour. For a moment they are glazed, but then he seems to recognise where he is.
“You...” he mumbles, “You... saved me.”
He gazes up into my eyes. I’m amazed at that look. He’s so pure. So... so strong in a way. His character screams out of his eyes. I see the depths of his soul there. These are eyes that Spike never had - these eyes are alive with feeling and intensity.
“Err...” he realises that I’m leaning over him, my fingers in his hair.
I pull my hand away immediately, sitting back up, and taking a sip of that awful beer.
“Err... I’m William, sir and I’m in your debt for saving me. Mr?”
“Ang... Liam O’Brandudh,” I answer quickly. Now why did I say that? Why did I use my old name? A name I haven’t heard in 250 years.
“Mr O’Brandudh...” The name rolls around on William’s tongue.
His tone sends shivers down my spine. He raises an eyebrow in a questioning manner and takes a sip of his beer. He doesn’t seem to notice that it tastes like dishwasher.
“What were you doing with that man’s daughters?” I ask out of the blue.
William’s large blue eyes widen and he gapes at me. He clears his throat and shakily puts his beer down.
“I swear my intensions were honourable, Mr O’Brandudh. It was nothing like it...”
“Maybe you should tell me,” I answer, with a smile. I’m amazed at how quickly feelings flit across this young man’s face. He’s so... so emotional. It’s just so different from Spike who always tried to hide his - hid them inside a tough exterior.
“Well, the man in question has three daughters. I spotted them sitting outside their little house, doing the vegetables. I spoke to them; I just wanted to ask their opinions... Get a feeling for their work and life.”
“Why?” I ask confused. I must claim ignorance here. I never knew what human Spike did for a living. I thought he was some sort of guttersnipe from the way he talked, but this man before me is nothing like that. His suit is well made, and his glasses expensive. If anything, he’s from a good middle class family. So what is doing in this part of London?
“I err... I’m a pomet...” he mumbles into his beer.
A pomet?
“Excuse me?”
“I’m a poet...” he repeats. Williams face colours slightly and this wonderful blush covers his strong cheeks. “I was trying to write a sonnet about a washer girl, when I found these three maidens.”
“Ah.” I smile.
William’s eyes catch and stare into mine. He seems to be wondering if I’m laughing at him, or trying to make fun. I don’t think he trusts anyone.
“And you sir? What is a well-dressed Irish man doing in this part of London?”
“Irish?” I whisper. I almost laugh when I realise my accent has returned. I run a hand through my hair and feel the long strands under my fingers. Oh god, I must be Angelus... yet, I have a soul... And if I am Angelus - where is Darla? I have no idea what I look like. Who I am... Yet, I feel like Angel. I feel like the Angel I was before the underwater coffin.
“Err... I’m a merchant. I’m looking for business.”
“What kind?”
“Fabrics and silks,” I reply automatically. It’s been so damn long since I’ve said that. My father and I were in that trade. Until he threw me out on my ear, that is.
“I must say Sir, that you don’t look like a merchant to me. You were stronger than that man...” William trails off again, giving me a shy grin.
My heart skips a beat... that is, it would’ve if I was alive. That look is so much like Spike’s. The curl of the lip, the lifted eyebrow. But there was no malice there, just curiously.
“I haven’t always been a merchant,” I answer vaguely. “Still, I’m a little lost. I was wondering since you are a well to do gentlemen, if you would be interested in showing me around London.”
I’m surprised by my own words. I want to spend time with pre-Spike? I mean, he hated me after he was turned. He loathed the power Angelus had over him.
“I... err... My mother will be concerned,” William answers shyly.
“Not tonight off course. Tomorrow will be fine,” I reply quickly.
“Sure, I’m could show you around in the morning...”
“No, later,” I snap without realising it. “I mean, I have a meeting until dusk.”
“Off course, Mr O’Brandbudh.”
There is a long silence and I realise he’s waiting for me to tell him where to meet me. Oh fuck, where am I staying at this time? I put my hand into my pocket and pull out a key. On the front of which is a name. The Governor Hotel, suite 2. Well, well I’m certainly into the money at the moment. I tell William the hotel and what time to meet me. He smiles shyly and quickly vanishes out of the pub door.
~*~*~*~*~
When I arrive at the Governor Hotel, I’m starving. It’s been three months...has it... no. Damn, I hate time travel. I can’t remember the last time I’ve eaten. My body isn’t showing any signs of weakness, which proves it’s well feed, but my mind believes differently. My mind is screaming for food, convinced it’s been underwater for three months.
I’m in a vampire body, who’s - I’m not sure. It could be mine, but unfortunately due to my physiology I can’t see myself in the mirror to check. The only clues I’ll have are in my room. The doorman greets me as I enter, not saying my name, just `good afternoon, sir’ in his upper class - most likely put on - accent. To my surprise, the concierge calls me over to the desk as soon as he spots me.
“Mr Angelus, sir, a message for you. From your wife.”
Wife? Shit! I’m me...well, Demon me - Angelus. I take the folded piece of paper from him, and eye the telegram.
Having a fabulous time in Paris shopping stop The designers are delicious stop
Darla
I shudder at the words as a sudden memory hits me. I remember now. 1873, sometime in March I believe, Darla and Drusilla went to Paris for the latest fashions, I didn’t go with her. I seem to remember my Sire screaming at me for ruining another dress and she wasn’t coming back until she had herself a new wardrobe. I wasn’t invited on the trip, which means I’m here on my own in London for a while. Still, I wish I could remember how long they‘ll be away, but I‘m sure I have plenty of time to put a plan into action.
Just some minor concerns though. How the hell do I feed here? There are slaughterhouses in London still, yet it’s a messy job. I can’t go killing again. At least I don’t have to worry about the rest of my vampire family bothering me while I work on William...oh friggin’ hell. Work on William!
How the hell am I supposed to work on William? I don’t even know him. I don’t know what he likes, what he did as a human. I never knew him at all. Damn. A walk around the London sights isn’t going to get him to fall in love with me. I wish Cordelia had been more clear...should I love him, do I romance him, seduce him? Do I seduce him as Angelus or Angel?
I find myself standing in my suite confused about my next move. My head hurts, feeling like I have a ton of water pressure on top of it. I can’t do this. I’ve never seduced or romanced anyone! Angelus had plenty of experience, but if I draw on that, will it frighten the timid William away?
I cross the suite, opening the doors to the master bedroom. The decor is in creams and gold, and no expense has been spared on the furniture. Upon opening the wardrobe I look over Angelus’s - my clothing. They are in rich dark colours, the most expensive materials of silk, linen, and wool. Good enough to make me look like a well to do gentleman - good enough so I could pass into William’s world without drawing too much attention to myself.
I reach up to my hair with a sudden thought - long again, tied back with a black satin ribbon. William said I had my Irish accent back too. Does he like the Irish? Maybe I should try without...I sigh, pressing my head against the wardrobe door. This is not going to work. I can’t do this. I can’t make anyone love me. I’m no good at relationships. Hell, there were so many things when I was seeing Buffy that I could never tell her. Her love was sweet and innocent, and I wanted to eat it all up, to suck her dry, to make her beg me to debauch her.
NO! I won’t let myself think that again! I have to bury those feelings; I can’t let those desires take over me. Once I thought they were Angelus’s, but there’re not. They are mine - the soul’s part. I am the one who desires to tie my lovers to the bed, to use them, to make them fly with pleasure. That’s why there’s only ever been Buffy. I can’t let this loose on a human body. So how the hell can I seduce William? Right, how did I seduce them as Liam? Well, there was a lot of booze, paid money...no, I don’t think that would work.
I sit defeated on the bed with my shoulders slumped. I should be sorting out a food supply, planning where I should take human William. I just can’t. I can’t do this. I fling my arms wide and fall back onto the bed, the feather mattress swallowing me whole. My eyes burn with unshed tears of my failure, so I close them and let sleep take me.
The Next Day, Early Evening:
I awaken as soon as the clock beside my bed strikes four. I’m surprised I slept that long. My dreams were empty, full of nothingness for a change. Three months in that box and I swear I was getting confused about what was real and what wasn’t. I dreamed that I had killed my son, that I had met with Cordelia on that hill top over looking the ocean...and I drank her. Such confusing dreams. In fact, I have to pinch myself even now. Am I really here, in the past? Or is this just another dream?
Ouch!
That hurt! I stroke the bruised skin on my arm, watching as my vampire flesh quickly turns the skin white again. Angelus always did feed well. Oh damn, I need to find a blood supply. I roll off the bed, and grab my outdoor coat, quickly brush my hair, and slip out the door.
I’m lucky that the smog of London makes it easy to travel. I stick to the shadows so I am able to make the local slaughterhouse before the sunset, and when William should arrive at my hotel. I gorge myself on living animal blood, eating far more than I usually do. I need to keep the hunger under control around William; I cannot let him know I’m anything but an Irish Gentleman in London.
The sun sets below the horizon as I slip back into my suite. I don’t know when William will arrive, but I’m splashed with blood and need to clean up. I strip off my coat, and throw away my stained shirt. The rest is pretty clean. I strip off the rest of my clothing, and step into the bathroom. Thankfully, this is a very modern hotel, with all the latest fixtures including hot running water. I fill the bath, and sink down into the wonderful heat. Oh, to be warm again. To feel something apart from the cold. I pick up a solid bar of sandalwood soap. I miss modern shower gel. This stuff leaves scum all over.
On my second bath, having cleaned out the residue of the soap, I lie back and enjoy the warm. Finally.
*knock, knock*
Damn! I scramble out of the bath, water splashing all over the floor. “Coming!” I call out, and grab my bathrobe. I tie it around me, just as I open the door to the young William. Large blue - surprised - eyes find mine, his hand still raised to knock again.
“Oh..err...” His eyes suddenly drop to the floor, away from my wet form. Now that’s interesting.
“Long day,” I explain, “come in, I’ll just get dressed.” I almost hiss the word ‘dressed‘, watching a light flush spread across William’s fair cheeks.
“Oh...yes, right,” he replies, his eyes purposely looking anywhere but at me.
I close the door behind him, and make a fuss over at the wardrobe. He’s trying to distract himself, looking at my books on the tables, picking up a hotel lamp. Anything but me. Well, well, I might have something to work with after all. I pick out my finest clothing, and the tightest fitting. I know that women find me handsome - beautiful even. I don’t see it myself, but I need to use what I have. I can’t go back to that grave beneath the sea.
Picking out my clothing, I make a quiet exit to the bathroom and dress. When I return to William, I find him engrossed in one of Angelus’s books. It’s an old book, even older than I am. It’s written in Gaelic, with beautiful scripted pages and illuminations. It’s a book of medieval poetry that was found by my sister in Galway one Christmas.
“It’s Gaelic,” I say, sitting facing the young man.
“Oh!” William looks up, almost dropping the book. I catch it easily and turn to my favourite page. “Sorry,” he mumbles, looking relieved I’m fully dressed and covered. Hmm, going to make sure I’m a little less dressed around him at times. “You speak the language?” he asks, looking thrilled at the idea.
“Yes, my mother taught me when I was young. No one was allowed to know.”
“I’ve read translated Irish poetry, it’s so...different...beautiful.” He blushes again. “I’ve heard that many Irish have learned their language in secret. It’s wrong to try and change a people’s culture.”
“The English have been doing it for centuries,” I reply sadly.
“Sorry.”
“Why?” I look up into his bright blue eyes, hidden behind small metal glasses.
“I...” he seems confused by my question. Why should he care about my country? “It’s wrong. Please, read something.”
I smile at his soft-spoken words, the gentle hands that implore me. I lift the book and find the verse.
“Mairg darab galar an grádh,
gibé fath fá n-abraim é,
is deacair sgarthain re a pháirt;
truagh an cás a bhfuilim féin.”
“It’s beautiful,” he whispers, “a poetic language.” William gives a soft sigh, and closes his eyes. I read the second verse, keeping my Gaelic flowing, and I’m surprised myself that I still remember the old language.
“An grádh-soin tugas gan fhios,
ós é mo leas gan a luadh,
muna fhaghad furtacht tráth,
biaidh mo bhláth go tana truagh.”
William gives a soft sigh, leaning back on the couch with his eyes closed. Soft eye lashes making shadows on sharp cheekbones. Moist lips parted, a flick of a tongue against his teeth. I lick my lips along with him, my mouth suddenly dry. I let my eyes wander over his strong neck, the prominent collarbones covered by layers of Victorian clothing. Oh, to remove those layers, to lick my tongue along that strong line, to discover his round pink nipples. I shudder, and realise I’m staring at the young man before me, and he’s returning my stare. For a long moment he doesn’t move, his look confused.
So I have hope after all.
William shakes himself out of his reverie, and smiles shyly. “It is a beautiful language,” he tells me. Suddenly, something changes and William seems to close himself up again. The change is startling, as if he’s gone back into hibernation, hiding behind the thick woollen clothing and small glasses. “You wanted to tour some of the sights then...” Even his voice has changed.
“Yes, I wish to see London...with you.” I reply. I stand, picking up my outdoor coat and smiling slightly at William’s slight blush.
Five Hours Later:
It’s late now and the whole of London is winding down - while the worse elements are just waking up. Elements that my young friend just seems to know about...or does he? William takes me to a pub not far from my hotel; it’s a low-class establishment, poorly dressed men, and almost naked serving girls. My accent attracts some attention when I order beer for William and whiskey for myself. I pay with my own money and that seems to embarrass him.
He’s taken me to the usual places - St Paul’s Cathedral, the British Museum and so forth. All the places I’ve seen before, but never really took much interest in until I was with William. He’s a font of information, full of little details and obscure knowledge. In St Paul’s we stood before the tomb of the Duke of Wellington, and he told me all about the great man himself. The Iron Duke he was called, as William told me. I didn’t mention that I had met the Duke when he was just a Baron in Spain during the Peninsula War. He was chasing Napoleon through the Spanish Mountains while I was trying to rob a young - very handsome, French general of his life. He was supposed to lead an attack on the English. He never got there and Wellington passed into France. I wonder if I had changed the war?
William told me his Ma took him to the Great Duke’s funeral in 1852, but he couldn’t remember and had been too young to understand. She said he’d thrown a flower before the black gun carriage that carried the Duke’s coffin. He had blushed beautifully at his admission, his cheeks turning a rosy colour, and for the first time I realised he had freckles.
At the British Museum, William spouted even more information. He revealed an avid knowledge of myths, literature, and a great interest in Ancient cultures. I loved the blush when we spoke about a Roman vase covered with naked men frolicking with each other. He didn’t seem disgusted by it, more like embarrassingly interested. His fingers glided over the naked figures, pointing out the discolouration of the pottery, dating the pot back to the time of Augustus with Egyptian influences. When I mention the myths of Augustus being the spurned lover of Caesar, William replied that he’d read a book on the idea...before quickly shutting up when he realised what he’d just admitted to. The laws of sodomy have changed a lot since then, I said to him. Yes, they have, he replied...a little sadly.
The tour had put an idea in my mind for tomorrow night. The new ideas from the Victorian age, decided that bathing in mineral waters would cure anything, and they had reopened a Roman bath not far from the hotel. That was my next place of seduction.
We sat in silence as William drank his beer and I tasted the Whiskey. Scottish, not Irish. I was about to remark on the difference to my young companion, when a large burly man standing beside me interrupted me.
“Yer a Mick?” he snarls, wiping his hands on a rag. I think this man’s the owner. “I don’t like Micks in me inn.”
“Charlie, he’s a friend of mine,” William tells the large man. “I’m showing him around London.”
“Aye, ya might be, but I don’t want no Micks in me Inn. I only tolerate you bothering my customers because ya’s me brother’s son.” Charlie growls.
William blushes, not with embarrassment but anger. Now that’s interesting. I never knew about William’s family as Angelus. He never killed them, telling us they were already dead and he lived with an Aunt. From the sounds of it that was lies. My vampire Childe had felt something for his human family, even after he had been turned?
“Don’t worry my friend,” I tell William, laying a hand on his arm. “We’ll enjoy a drink at my suite.”
For a second, William looks ready to fight his Uncle, but he relaxes and grabs his coat. He says nothing as we leave, pushing past the bigger man with a look of disgust. William follows me silently as we return to my suite - his conversation dried up. I’m guessing that William can talk until he’s raw about poetry and history, but not about himself and what he feels. I‘ll break through that - I’ll touch the real William. That’s how I’ll make him fall for me. Make him want me.
I lead the despondent boy up into my Suite, and pour him a shot of whiskey from the guest bar. He drinks it back in one go, afterwards giving a little cough and slapping his chest. I down my own whiskey the same way, enjoying the hot burn. I love the heat of this drink going down - it’s almost like hot human blood without the taste.
“Sorry,” William mumbles. “You shouldn’t have met...”
“Why William? Your Uncle is no reflection on you,” I soothe him. Family and social status in Victorian times is just as important as it was in mine. William is humiliated by me - a well-to-do gentleman - meeting his pub owner and Cockney-speaking Uncle.
“No one sees it that way. Ever since my coming out. Not even my parents fit in, no matter how much money my Father makes. I can never make an impression on Cecily or anyone...” He trails off, holding out his glass for another shot. I fill it, intrigued by this new side to my future Childe. Certainly about this name - Cecily. Someone I should be concerned about? A contender for William’s affection? That will never do.
“Then they are blind,” I inform him. “You are a young, handsome man, educated, with money behind you. They are blind to your many attributes.” I sit down, facing my young companion, enjoying his increasing blush. William ducks his head and gazes at me over his glasses.
“Sir, I’m not anything like that...I don’t possess any of those attributes.”
“Of course you do, young William. Your hair is like honey gold, your eyes the purest sapphires, skin as silk, lips as cherries.” Oh yeah, that blush has travelled far beyond his face. “You are m’ alainn buachaill.”
Now that gets Will’s attention. His eyes soften and he sighs at the soft sound of my Gaelic. “Those words are poetry,” he whispers. “What do they mean?”
“Ah, that is for you to discover. I’ll teach you my language young one, if you promise me your company.”
“You’ll teach me?” he whispers in wonder. I nod and smile, taking another sip of my drink. Oh yeah, I have him hook, line and sinker. “Speak to me again, please Liam.”
Liam. It’s the first time he’s used my name. He’s called me Mr or Sir all day. I give him a small smirk and set down my glass, picking up the ancient poetry book. William leans back and closes his eyes, waiting for my voice.
“Mairg darab galar an grádh,
gibé fath fá n-abraim é
is deacair sgarthain re a pháirt;
truagh an cás a bhfuilim féin.
An grádh-soin tugas gan fhios,
ós é mo leas gan a luadh,
muna fhaghad furtacht tráth,
biaidh mo bhláth go tana truagh.
An fear-soin dá dtugas grádh,
's nách féadaim a rádh ós aird,
dá gcuire sé mise i bpéin,
go madh dó féin bhus céad mairg!”
The next Night:
I awaken with the dusk, immediately bathing and dressing to await my young friend. Tonight, I’ve the perfect plan for my continuing seduction of William. I haven’t informed him of our outing, and left him believing when he left in the late hours this morning that he would be showing me more of the London sights. No, I have something more intimate in store for us. I’ve already made the arrangements and paid with stolen money. I’m taking William to the Roman baths. It’s part of what they are calling a ‘health farm’. A new Victorian idea of well being...stupid really. These new modern Victorians are a strange bunch; I’ve even seen men strap themselves into electric chairs, and receive shock treatment to cure their flagging libido. Hah! They ought to just shag another woman...or man, instead of their stuck up wives!
I grin. Tonight there won’t be any of those desperate Victorian men around my Will. Nope, I’ve brought out the whole place and we will be alone in an ancient Roman bath with scented water and a sauna afterwards.
I’ve dressed to perfection again, the best clothing to reveal my strong body to William. I brush my hair back, tying it with a velvet ribbon. Also, I pick up a walking cane, black with a golden knob at the top. Finally, I wait for him.
*knock, knock*
“Enter,” I call, picking up my outer jacket and cane. I turn just in time to see William come into my room. My stomach flip-flops and I shiver at the sight of him. The words I spoke last night weren’t planned and are very true. He is beautiful...in all ways. For a moment all I can do is stare at him, taking in his well made but conservative tweed suit. Nothing extravagant or too modern. William isn’t concerned with fashions; he’s a sensual creature - looking for the thrill of emotion not public recognition. Whoa...I’ve just amazed myself. I actually thought about him, worked him out, considered what William thought. That’s something Angelus would never have...did do. Maybe that’s why he never loved me.
“Mr O’Brandbudh...” he mutters, his eyes glazing over at my fine clothing. Ah, he does take notice of the same sex. All is not lost. “I’m...err...”
“I have something planned tonight, William,” I inform him with a smile. He blinks at me, looking a little dazed. “And please call me, Liam.” I told him three times yesterday to call me by my name.
“Okay, Mr...Liam.” He glances down at his feet; his glasses slipping down his nose. “Oh!” he yelps as I push those gold rims back up with a long finger.
He trembles before me, a young pure boy...so ready for seduction. Wanting it...Oh damn, I can smell his arousal. I never dreamed that William would be so...easy...No that’s not right. I think he would run screaming if I kissed him at this moment. No, it’s like he’s hungry for someone to give him emotion, touch...love?
“I thought a trip to the local Roman baths would be enjoyable for us both. You mentioned them yesterday.”
“The Roman baths...isn’t that...expensive...with people,” he mumbles.
Oh, my shy one. “No, I’ve brought us the baths for the whole night, and we even have use of the sauna. It will give us time to talk; I’ll even give you a small lesson in Gaelic.” William’s eyes brighten at the suggestion, and I slip my hand around his elbow. He sighs with pleasure, and lets me guide him towards the door and out into the hallway. He’s such a fascinating creature, shy at times, but with a fire underneath that blushing exterior.
William talks little on the way to the Health Farm. He gazes at me from time to time as we travel there by horse drawn carriage. I wonder what he thinks, what he sees in me. A man? A monster? I push these thoughts aside, and indulge in my new favourite past time - gazing into sapphire eyes.
When we arrive at the baths, my young companion is like a shy boy. We change into linen loincloths in silence, wrapping large bath sheets around ourselves. I don’t even get a chance to look over his fine pale body. I miss the sight of his soft skin. After changing, a manservant escorts us into the main baths. There are two large rectangles of deep sunken pools with fine tiling and pure blue waters. At the sides are couches and tables, with glasses of water and bowls of fruit. I inform the servant we won’t require his assistance and he vanishes into the background.
I turn to William, watching his face turn a deeper shade of rose. Then I make a decision. I drop the large bath sheet, letting it sensually slip off my body. The sheet makes a fluttering sound, then a thud as it drops to the tiled floor. A soft gasp and I know William’s watching, oh so very carefully. Watching me like a hawk. I wonder if he realises what a sensual creature he is? I don’t turn around, even though I want to see what is reflected in his eyes. Is there lust? Desire? Repulsion?
I walk down the steps of the bath, and directly into the deeper end. Warm water washes over my cold skin, as sweet scent fills my nose. The smell of rose petals, lavender, and honey. I grin, and turn towards William for the first time.
“Ceangal mé?”
William rises an eyebrow and hesitates.
“Join me?” I repeat. He grins at my question, and I can see his mouth mouthing the sounds I made before. He loves my language, he is enthralled by the sound. “The water if perfect.” I stand at the furthest side away from him, looking at his reflection in the water, then at the real form of his perfect body...currently wrapped in that annoying sheet. Very slowly, looking around but not at me, William slips the sheet down over one arm. Okay, I’m hard in a second. I shift my legs, tying to move the loincloth around without making it look obvious. I start panting softly as he slips his second arm free, then with a final shrug William lets the sheet drop to the ground.
Perfection. Pale, pure skin is revealed to me. Perfect in everyway. His body is a sculpture’s dream. Smooth skin, straight lines, voluminous curves. I wish he’d turn around so I could see his toned ass. I groan, as my cock becomes impossibly hard, and I’m desperate to touch myself. A couple of strokes and I’d be done, or he could turn around and the sight of that ass would send me right over the edge. I lick my lips as William steps into the water, muscles rippling as he walks down the steps towards me. I shiver at the sight of his large cock swaying inside that linen cloth.
“Ó Dia,” I breathe, thanking god that I spoke in Gaelic. I wish I could rip it off him. Discover that young cock in my hands, and swallow it whole down my throat. I groan again, arching in the water, begging for some friction. I want him - now! Yet, I can’t. I want him willing, I want him loving...oh shit, I’m so fucking desperate. I need to cum. I sigh, leaning my head back and touching the tile edge, a soft gasp makes me look back at William.
He’s staring at my chest. I ignore him a moment, running my hand over my chest and tweaking a nipple. Another gasp. I turn to face him, and offer my hand. He looks at me as if I’m holding a knife in it, then after a long hesitation he takes it. I lead him over to the edge and sit down on a small ledge. William grins in surprise and sits, sighing as his body is submerged in the water. I can’t help but lick my lips again as those pink rosy nipples harden with contact. I wonder if he’d let me suck them?
“This feels so good,” William mumbles beside me. He drags a finely boned hand through the water, watching the ever growing circles spread across the surface.
“Yes, the Romans sure knew a good thing when they found it.” I reply, reaching behind William. He gasps at my movement, his eyes following the lines of my chest, down my arm to my hand. He stares at my fingers as they reach further and further...until the clasp the neck of a bottle of wine. He gives a little sigh of relief and rests his head back against the edge. He grins suddenly, and the water ripples as he wriggles his legs. I chuckle, and pour him a glass of wine.
“Red?” I ask.
“Huh? Oh, yes, thank you Si-Liam.” He takes the glass and sips the deep red liquid. “Hmmm...Good.”
I take a sip, tasting the warm wine. I wish I could taste it as he does. To me it’s lacking depth, texture...blood.
We talk our way through the first and second bottle of wine. William tells me of his favourite authors and poets, and asks my opinion on the new writers making their way up the social ladder. To my surprise he takes my opinions seriously, nodding in agreement or arguing his point. On the third bottle, our discussion changes. William talks about love, desire, and his dreams of being a poet. He even quotes some of what he’s already written. I didn’t have the heart to tell him it was all bloody awful. His sentiment and passion is there...but everything else is lacking. It makes me shiver. On the fourth bottle, things certainly start to change. William freely calls me Liam, asking me if I knew what the Romans did in these baths.
“Ooo Liam, they had boys, Liam. Little servicing boys.” William leans close to me, his lips next to my ear. He’s been getting closer and closer all evening. “Beautiful boys, Liam. Pretty boys...like you. The Romans would take them, Liam... I like your name, Liam,” he breathes into my ear. “Pretty name...pretty face, oh Liam.”
I groan at his words, my aching cock becoming a persistent pain. I get this incredible image of me as a Roman senator bathing with other men in this pool, then I call out to a serving boy, he comes nearer with a bath sheet, I step out and throw it aside, dragging his willing body to mine. The serving boy - the exact copy of William - begs me to bend him over the nearest couch and *take* him.
“Do you know how the Romans *took* those boys, William?” I whisper into his shell-shaped ear.
“Hmmm...” he breathes against my mouth. He’s so near, so close that I can almost taste him. His breath is so sweet, so alluring. I lick my lips and his eyes close as he sighs. “They took them hard, Liam. Hard.”
That’s it! I can’t take anymore! I lean forward and kiss him. His lips are so moist and welcoming. Soft against mine. It’s like he’s melting against me. I gasp against his mouth as his chest touches mine. Those hard nipples rubbing against my skin. I taste inside his lips, his teeth, his tongue, oh it’s heaven. I grunt and kiss him harder, longer, and I won’t ever stop.
William draws back slightly, panting as he tries to catch his breath. “Do you take boys hard, Liam?” he pants out.
Oh shit! That’s it. I grab his body to mine and kiss him again. Soft hands grasp my arms, and I crush him to me. He presses his entire body against mine, and I’m lost. I’m falling so hard. I groan as my arms wrap around his back, holding him so tight. We kiss with a passion I’ve never known. Hot lips against cool. Cool tongue mapping out hot mouth. Hot tongue ravaging cool mouth. I’m palming his butt like there’s no tomorrow...and then he draws away.
“I can’t...oh gods, Liam...I’ve never done this...”
“You don’t have to be ashamed to be a virgin to men, William.”
“No...I’ve...not even girls,” he whispers into my neck.
No one! Ever! Okay, I admit I’m shocked. No wonder he was so attached to Drusilla - to being with her. He’s never had an intimate moment with anyone - man or woman. So why the hell did he choose me?
“Do you take them hard, Liam?” he asks again, this time drawing back and gazing into my face. His fingers touch my lips, my cheeks, stroking my features as if discovering them for the first time...this is the first time - for him. And me too...with a man. I shiver at his caress, staring into his eyes...and I know.
Oh William, forgive me. I never knew. He loved Angelus. He loved how Angelus abused him - tortured him, how he was treated like a slave - a plaything. He felt loved by my demon, yet Angelus felt nothing. No wonder he hated him when he left, hated me when I said I never felt anything for them - Dru, Spike and Darla. Yet, if I take him like that, treat him like he thinks he wants - will he want me in the future? Will he love me, like Cordelia said I should make him? Or will he be disgusted by my treatment of him? Will claiming him, forcing him to see my love, work for human William?
Suddenly, the atmosphere changes and William backs off. “Oh bugger, you don’t...I don’t...” he mumbles. He’s backing off, frightened by his advances. This could be the first time he’s ever made any. “I’ve never...”
“Come home with me, William,” I ask, stroking firm fingers down his back. “I’ll show you how hard I take pretty blond men.”
William shivers against me, his whole body trembling. “But...but...”
“Shhh.” I press a long finger against his lips, quietening him. “But pretty serving boys should be quiet and obey their masters.”
I swear the whole of William’s body quivers in my embrace, his breath quickening, and the musk of his aroma increasing a hundred fold.
~*~*~*~
We didn’t go home together in the end. I wanted to wait, to test William’s reactions, so I send my young soon-to-be-lover home after our outing at the Roman baths. We lounged for a long time, enjoying our each other’s company. I ordered him to serve me wine, and he did so in silence, only replying to my direct questions. To my complete surprise William found it totally erotic. His musk was nearly overwhelming all night, and it took all my control to ignore that sensual smell. I was desperate to come when I finally got back to my hotel room. I opened the bedroom door, stripped from my clothing, and brought myself off with a desperate hand...twice.
I had sent William home under orders not to touch himself, and to be at my door at 6pm the next night. I almost backed down from this plan; the glow and desire in his blue eyes nearly undid me. He almost broke my control, and I had to force myself not to take him on that cold, tiled floor. I did however, because I need to seduce him the correct way - not just fuck him.
The next night - 6pm.
Tonight is the test. Tonight, I shall know if there is anything between William and me. Does he want me? Can he love me? The biggest question of them all is - is he going to turn up at all?
I haven’t dressed in finery tonight. Just a clean white shirt, and black trousers. My feet are bare, and my hair is fresh washed and loose. I don’t want to look too unapproachable to him, but I’m not entirely sure that I don’t look too easy. Damn, I hate this part. I pour myself another shot of whiskey and drink it down. This will be my sixth, and I don’t think it’s going to be my last. I pour another one.
It’s after six now, and there is no sign of William. Has he changed his mind? Run from me forever? Will I ever see him again? Have a blown my chances? I hate this waiting. I hate...
*Knock, Knock*
“Crap!” The glass of whiskey slips from my hand and smashes on the floor, sending up a spray of dark liquid all over my trousers. Great! Now I smell like a brewery.
“Come,” I shout, grabbing a towel to wipe my feet.
“Liam?” A nervous face appears around the edge of the door, and he frowns at my state of undress. “Should I come back?” he mumbles, sounding more like a child than a grown man. A grown *virgin* man.
“No, come in. I just had a little accident with a glass of whiskey.” I reply, trying to settle him, while hobbling around and wiping the sole of my foot.
“Oh...Let me.” At first I don’t realise what he means, but suddenly he’s at my side and taking the damp towel from my hand. “Sit.” I drop onto the couch, and he kneels before me and places my foot in his lap. I shiver as my foot presses against hot skin covered with wool tweed trousers. Tender, tapered fingers dry my foot with the towel, and then repeat the same on the other foot. I lean back into the soft cushions and moan.
“You feel tense,” William says softly, a finger stroking the pale skin of my instep.
“Hmmm...hard day,” I lie. There is no way I’m telling him I’ve been up all day worrying about my decisions. “Do you want to relieve my tension, my pretty boy?” I ask, wondering if he wants to be treated like my slave. I notice a shiver run through his body, and his hand tenses around my foot. I think that is a certain - yes! Suddenly, I have a thought. “William, do you need those glasses?”
William blushes deep and red, his cheeks flaming. “No sir...I need them for close work...but I thought they made me...”
I grin. “Take them off, boy.”
William does, and to my total surprise also removes his outer coat.
“The jacket too.” The words slip from my mouth before I even realise it. He removes it without a word, and then takes my foot back into his lap. Soft, un-calloused fingers start to massage my feet, pushing and pulling at the skin, stroking my soles, caressing my toes. I lean back and let him treat my tension. He’s good too; his fingers are making me relaxed and aroused at the same time.
“Would you read to me, Liam?” A gentle voice asks, as soft fingers caress my feet. “You voice is so...”
“Off course, my William,” I reply, smiling lightly as his face flushes with desire, and the smell of his arousal increases. So sweet, my William. Full of spice and fire, oh how I wish to taste him. I take up the book of Irish poetry and find another page. I remember saying these verses to seduce a young maiden when I was mortal.
“I mbrat an bhrollaigh ghil-se
ní bhiadh an dealg droighin-se
dá mbeith, a Mhór bhéildearg bhinn,
an éindealg d'ór i nÉirinn.
San mbrat-sa níor chóir do chur
acht dealg d'fhionndruine uasal,
nó dealg iongantach d'ór cheard,
a Mhór bhionnfhoclach bhéildearg.
A fholt lag ar lí an ómra,
a chur id bhrat bhreacórdha
a stuaigh chobhsaidh nár chealg fear,
nior chosmhail dealg don droighean.
Níor churtha a chnú mo chroidhe,
id bhrat eangach iolbhuidhe,
a ghruaidh dhearg do-ghéabhadh geall,
acht dealg do-ghéanadh Gaibhneann.
A ghruadh chorcra do char mé,
gan dealg óir acht an uair-sem,
ar feadh na huaire, a ghlac ghlan,
do bhrat uaine do b'annamh.”
“Oh lord, Liam. Your voice is like wine,” William moans, “the sweetest fruit.” He’s shuddering, and I glance down at his groin. My words have worked wonders. There is a wet patch on those perfectly pressed trousers. I smell his pre-cum from here - a scent of spice and the deliciousness of what is William.
“Come here, sweet boy,” I call, holding out my hand. The poetry book forgotten at my side, falls to the ground as William scrambles onto my lap. He’s trembling, his body sweaty with desire and need. I grab a arm, and pull him close until he’s straddling my legs. “Do you want to taste my mouth, sweetness?” I purr.
“Men kiss each other?” he gasps in surprise.
“Oh course, pretty boy,” I reply, slipping my fingers through his dark blond hair. He sighs at my caress, that sends little shivers running through his body, making me even harder as he presses against my groin. “Have you kissed anyone, my William,” I purr, running my finger over his ruby lips. Hot breath caresses my skin and he shudders again. Hmm, likes to be called *mine*, does he? I’ll have to remember that.
“Of course...many girls...a few...” he mumbles, his voice having air of indignation.
I only smile, lifting his head up with a finger under his chin. He really is a beautiful man. I never took much notice in him before. Never really studied his fine features, his sharp cheekbones, the depths of those bluer than blue eyes. I understand now how Drusilla was mesmerised by him. How she couldn’t resist those pouting lips, that hard body. And so neither can I. I draw his face near, leaning forward slightly at an angle, to kiss his lips. I press my lips against his, just a flavour at first - a taste. I groan as the taste of William blossoms on my lips, and I lick them clean of him. I kiss him again, pressing us together more firmly this time. His lips are as rose petals...and I’m losing myself in the poetry of him.
I cannot take anymore, no more soft kisses - I want more - deeper. The third kiss, I crush my mouth to his, forcing his lips to open and push my tongue inside his wet - human - orifice. He groans into my punishing kiss, melting against me, with hands gripping my arms. His mouth is inexperienced, especially with this passionate embrace. I pull back a bit, letting him savour my mouth. His hot tongue is tentative, but the passion starts to wane. I break the kiss, looking at his bruised lips, his closed eyes, his mouth begging for more. William doesn’t want the soft caresses; he wants the burning hot passion. A man after my own heart - though, can I give all that without hurting his frail, human body? At this second, I don’t really care.
I crush our lips together again, my tongue dominating his mouth, forcing my way deeper and deeper. The scent of the mortal in my arms flares again with burning desire. His body starts to undulate next to mine, a shuddering desperation that burns through us both. I run my hands down his back, and grab his hips. He yelps as I urge him closer to me, our cocks brushing against each other, though still covered in woollen clothing.
“I can show you burning passion, William. Passion to inspire a million love poems,” I gasp, dragging my mouth from his.
“Oh show, me, Liam. Want me,” he begs. A broken sound. The sound of a boy neglected by working parents, a youth denied by cruel women. How could they be blind to his beauty? His body built better than Adonis. His passion hotter than the sun. Yet, I was blind too. Angelus never saw William like this, and then when Spike came along, all this was gone. He hardened himself to Angelus’ mistreatment and neglect. He hid away this passionate side, fearing to be hurt as he was so many times by my demon and by me - Angel. I wonder if Dru saw this side, held it too her, and enjoyed its passion night after night. Bitch! She’s not having this boy! He’s mine!
I kiss him again, my hands digging into his back and buttocks, holding him so close. Close enough to leave bruises on his pale flesh, but he never makes a sound. I shift forward, letting my body slump into the couch. My cock brushes his, bringing our groins together. William gasps into my mouth, his lithe body rocking his hips against mine.
“You’re mine,” I snarl in a low, dangerous voice. He shivers at my tone. Oh damn, I love making him shiver. “Stand up, boy,” I order, dragging him up to his feet. He’s surprised at my sudden movement, maybe expecting a long make-out session on the couch. I don’t think I could last that long. I want him. I need him. I want to taste him.
“Liam?” He mumbles, a startled sound, as I start to strip him of his clothing. His fingers are useless, shaking so much in confusion and a little fear. I quickly do away with his shirt and vest. (Why did men ever wear these? Most un-sexy piece of clothing ever manufactured.) Yet, this is the Victorian age, and not to be properly dressed would be one of the biggest sins around. Along with what I have planned next. Oh yeah, I have lots of plans for tonight. One of those will include the cane I took with me the other day, the one that William couldn’t take his eyes off.
“Let me undress you, William,” I purr into his ear. He shudders again, the smell of sexual excitement rolling off him in waves. He surrenders to my touch, his arms dropping to his sides, as I start on his trousers and a whole lot more undergarments. *shiver* I let him keep his dignity, as his hands cross before his genitals, and I sit him back into the couch. He’s nervous. That beautiful luscious blush is travelling all the way down his body to his toes. I wish I could see his ruby cock covered in that blush.
“Now, sit back my boy,” I say with a leer, and bring my hands up to my own shirt. I wish I could take a modern photograph of his face at this second. He’s shocked, aroused, nervous, excited. Startled blue eyes stare at my hands as I work on the small mother-of-pearl buttons. By the time I reach the last shirt button, he’s panting; his mouth slightly parted and eyes dilated. I feel my body react to his, my own dick hard and throbbing from his unrestrained responses. So many responses, that I can hardly keep up with his changing emotions. I know from the look of his face he’s afraid of this intimacy, but at the same time desperate to touch someone - anyone. Even a man like me.
I strip my shirt off slowly, letting my pale skin be revealed only inch by inch, listening to his soft gasps of surprise and delight. He grunts, his hands shifting in his lap, as the material finally falls to the floor. Next, I tackle my trousers, undoing the fastening, just as slowly as the shirt and then pulling them open.
“Liam!” A cry of shock, and a hand covers his eyes as my naked penis pokes out.
“Open your eyes, boy,” I tell him, shoving my trousers down my legs and off. He removes his shaking hand, resting it back into his lap. His eyes look anywhere but at me. Now’s the time to taste him...to make him mine. “Put your hands behind your head, my William.”
“What?” he gasps, eyes widening even more. I’m sure that any second they shall fall out.
“Shhhh.” I press my index finger to his mouth, silencing him. After a long moment, his unsure hands move, slowly inching their way up to his head. Then finally, he wraps his fingers together behind his blond locks and leans back. I knew that added *my* would work.
I gracefully fall to my knees, and gaze at the sight before me - a naked William. His pale skin, glowing healthily. His chest is rising rapidly with his aroused breathing, soft gasps of breath flaring his nose. His lips are slightly puffy from my bruising kisses, but parted as if begging for more - which I give him. I lean forward and taste his lips again. A soft gasp into my mouth as he opens for me. I push my tongue deep inside, dominating him again, increasing that smell of need. He gets off on my domination, the rough touches and forceful tongue. I part from him, when his chest hitches for much needed air. I move down, kissing his neck, nipping gently at the skin covering his jugular. My teeth itch as I do, the demon clawing to get out and sink its fangs into that sweet throat. I quickly move away to lick at his collarbones, and down his sternum. He gasps, pants, and moans under my caress. His skin jumping, his body shuddering as if he doesn’t know if he should pull away or press nearer.
My fingers join in, stroking the lines of his prominent ribs. I miss his nipples to begin with; I’ll introduce him to that pleasure in a moment. My hands stroke the last rib, and resting my palms against his flesh, rub them down over his belly. He sucks in immediately with the contact of skin on skin. I don’t go far enough down to touch his cock, instead I rub back upwards towards those pebbling nipples. I stroke him in circles around the dark pink nubs, hearing his gasps and moans increase...and oh, the smell! The smell of his arousal is like the finest perfume - spicy and hot. I breathe him in, tasting his delicious mortal aroma.
“Oh Liam,” he breathes between slack lips, his eyes unfocused with lust and desire.
I make my move now to show him how to touch a man’s nipples. I open my mouth and take them inside, sucking on the puckered flesh. He groans, trying to say words but they are totally incomprehensible. I grin and take those nubs between my teeth and nip lightly. A rush of sound now from my young boy’s lips.
“Oh Holy mother...Oh Liam...oh...” Followed by a whole lot more, words learned from his uncle I suppose. “Oh fuck! Shit! Urghhhh!”
I leave the first nipple and move onto the second. I give it the same attention as the first, feeling William squirm and writhe below me. That smell again, this time joined by the pre-cum oozing out his straining shaft. Time for a little taster. I release his nipple and stroke my hands down again to this flat belly, then further down, gently spreading his thighs apart so I can kneel between them. I shuffle forward.
“What are you...?” William gasps, suddenly looking down at my position, settled between his thighs and a breath away from his dripping phallus.
“I’m going to taste you, my boy.” I run my fingers along the strong line of his right cheekbone, watching his eyes close with pleasure. Such a sensuous young man.
“Ta-taste me?”
I don’t answer, just smirk. I spread my hands over his hips, and lick the end of his cock.
“Oh!!” he screams, “Taste me!”
I knew he was a quick learner. My mouth opens and I swallow the end of his dick. A yelp and a sigh follows from his inexperienced mouth. I groan myself at his taste. His hot semen burns my tongue, and I lap thoroughly at the slit, collecting all the opaque liquid. His cock is large, strong, and straight as I’ve always known it to be, but amazingly he tastes even better than I’ve ever known. I suck him deeper, letting him rest against my throat as I lap and suckle his skin. Louder groans fill the room and not all of them are his. I want more; I want him to fill my mouth. I relax my throat and let him all the way down, and then swallow around his length. Another scream issues from his lips, and his cock starts to throb inside my mouth. I increase my torture, sucking, licking and swallowing him, wanting him to come inside me.
“Oh shit! Liam!” William screams as his living semen fills my cool mouth. I swallow it all, tasting him on my tongue. He was so hot, so spicy, so good! Finally, I release him, letting his softening dick slip from my mouth. Soft fingers touch my face, and I look up into William’s stormy blue eyes. “Oh Liam, your mouth, it’s so cool, so...so.”
“You moved your hands, William,” I scold. I take his fine fingers into my larger ones, and draw them to my mouth. He moans as I take one finger between my lips and suckle. He groans, shivering at my touch. “You are going to have to be punished.”
“Err...punished?”
“Oh yes, my William, by that handsome cane you admired the other day.”
“Cane?” he gasps.
I press my finger against his mouth again; “Shhh. No talking.” I slip from between his legs and up onto the couch. He yells in surprise as I grab his arm and quickly drag him over my lap. Amazingly, he keeps his silence, but moans when I reach down under the couch and pull out the black cane with the golden nob.
“Have you ever been caned, young William?” I ask, stroking over the soft skin of his buttocks.
“N-No,” he gasps, his skin trembling under my touch.
I lift the cane, letting William see the instrument of his punishment. His eyes widen, but there’s no fear in them. His recent orgasm has taken away his concerns, relaxing him into his current situation. I hold the cane high and bring it down across the thickest parts of his butt. He yelps, wriggling around in my lap. I hold him down with a hand pressed on the small of his back. His soft cheeks are marked with a red line from my cane. He’s been marked by me - carrying my mark. I grin insanely and bring the cane down again. Another sharp yelp and another new red line. I hit him again and again, watching his butt turn a wonderful colour of red. I’m careful though, not too hard, just enough to leave a stripe. Finally when I have his butt glowing brightly, I throw the cane aside and attack his burning skin with my tongue.
“Liam!” he cries, the only recognisable word he’s spoken for the last fifteen minutes. I don’t hear, I only continue with my attack. I want him; my cock is aching, needing to be encased in his tight, hot body. I part his tender flesh, working my way down to the puckered opening, wanting to see his glorious hole.
“Liam! What? What are you doing?”
“I want to be inside you, My William. M’ Ulliem.”
“Oh gods...oh gods,” he babbles as he trembles over my lap. I feel his hands clutch my legs, holding so tight, manicured nails cutting into my flesh. I growl at the smell of blood, fighting down the desire to change.
“You want it, don’t you, My boy? Feel your Master inside you of, taking you, claiming you.”
“Oh gods...” he pants again, and again.
“You want to feel filled, don’t you, M’ buachaill? Want me to spill my desire deep inside you.”
“Oh gods... Liam... Oh Liam! Please!” William screams the last part, just as I reach that tender place. The entrance to his body screams to me, and I press my tongue against it. “Please! I need you! LIAM!!!”
I think the whole of London heard my name being screamed, as I sink my tongue into his anus. I roll my tongue and push deep inside him, savouring his amazing flavour. No Lover has ever tasted like William does to me. He’s hot, spicy, full of fire, but under all that there is something uniquely wonderful. A taste - a feeling - I cannot identify. Something purely William - a favour that was lost in Spike.
I rim him for a while, feeling him writhe in my embrace. My hands hold his butt cheeks apart as I plunder his depths. I yearn for more, to feel this heat around me. I remove my tongue, but slip in a saliva-coated finger as I move my mouth away. He clenches around me, his body shivering and moaning in my lap. I wriggle my finger around, feeling his muscles flutter and tighten.
“You want more, m’ candaí.”
“Please! Oh please!” William begs as I flip him over. His body is amazingly pliant in my hands, as I pull him up into a sitting position on my lap. His whole body is trembling like a leaf, his eyes glazed and unfocused, and yes, his cock is hard once again and dripping. I’ve never had a lover like him. So open, so emotional, so feeling. Every touch burns him. Every movement arouses him. He’s like clay in my hands, and I can...will mould him into the perfect companion, lover, and friend. But above all - he’s giving. A soft hand rests on my cheek, and lips press against mine.
“Please, my Master,” he moans. “Anything for you.” He kisses me again, and in truth I don’t think he knows what he’s saying. He’s lost in the passion of our lovemaking. Beyond all reason. I’ve never opened myself to anyone as he is to me at this very second. I clutch his body to mine, and once again ravage his mouth. I bruise his lips, scrape his tongue, and it only inflames his desire. I can give William all my passion and those deep dark desires, and he wouldn’t turn away. He’d welcome them.
I cannot wait a second longer. I drag myself to my feet; William grasped in my arms while we still kiss. Then I twist us around, find the nearest chair and dump him in it. He’s surprised, but not afraid. I drag him up again and flip him over. “Kneel on the chair,” I rasp. William does. He turns his back, but holds his legs together. My hands are rough on his thighs, leaving dark marks and I wrench them apart. He moans and automatically arches his body over the chair. His beautiful butt is at the perfect angle; all I have to do is lean over him and shove my cock inside. I really want to, but in his mortal state I’d tear that tight virginal ass.
My answer is petroleum jelly and lots of it. I cover my fingers; his butt, and push the slick digits deep inside him. He moans and whispers my name as I work the tense muscles into relaxation. I dig my fingers deep inside him, and I find that magical place. I touch it and William screeches. Delightful shivers pass through his body, and his hips start to move with the rhythm of my thrusts. I know he’s ready.
“M’ álainn sclábhaí,” I tell him, as I withdraw my fingers. I spread his legs wider, and stand between them.
“Please, Liam,” he sobs, a cry of desperate desire.
I step forward and smile as my cock touches his thoroughly prepared entrance. The reddened tissue flexing, ready for my thrust and thrust I do. With one more step - I’m inside, and we’re both screaming. He’s so fucking hot! Hotter than any mortal body I’ve experienced. So tight, and his muscles are still fluttering and clenching around me, even with all the relaxation and stretching I did before hand. I grunt loudly, shuddering against him, with my eyes closed. I trying to fight back the demon that wants to come forth this very second and bury my fangs into his throat just as my cock is buried in his ass. I want more. I want all of him.
“Yes! Beidh!” I scream, and start to thrust in and out of that welcoming hole.
I can’t make out any of William‘s words as we move. He sobs, cries, and begs. He flings his body around on the chair, thrusting back with such a gusto I fear that he’ll break something.
“You’re so big...fill me more...” he cries. I thrust harder; reaching for that spot deep within him that will make all this worthwhile. With a change in angle, William screams. He howls as if his very lungs are being torn out. I hit that pulsing point deep within him over and over again, perfectly on target with each punishing blow of my cock. I start howling right along with him. He’s so tight, clutching me with each inward thrust and then relaxing. Anyone would think he’s been doing this forever...but I know I am the first. His first lover, and what a lover he is. He’s totally unguarded...and that hurts me the deepest. That’s what Angelus did to him - he betrayed that trust, used his openness against him. All William wanted was a loving touch - no matter how violent - just as long as it was given with love.
I lean over his body, holding him so tightly to my chest. I cry out even more as I cover his back, and when I wrap my arms around him, he reaches up with one arm and twists in my embrace. Our lips touch, and with the sudden electrical charge of lust, I kiss him as I have never kissed before. We are one with passion. One with the burning need within us. We are screaming, howling our needs, desperate to come with the other, not wanting to orgasm without feeling the flush of cum on my hand and the feel of it buried inside of him.
“Wil...”
“...Liam!”
We scream as one as my orgasm rushes through my body and floods his bowels. I sink my fangs into my own arm to heighten the pleasure. Blood pours into my mouth, though I wish desperately that it could be his. Now though isn’t the time. I’m not ready to show him what I really am, what kind of creature has taken him to its bed...err chair. I feel William’s second orgasm cover my hand, as I touch his erection. I didn’t even need to stroke him to fulfilment; he came from my thrusts onto his prostate.
We both collapse onto the chair, and I pull him into my embrace, holding him so tightly to me. I slip from his throbbing ass, and I feel empty again. I hold him close, stroking his dark blond hair, kissing his ears and face. William doesn’t say anything, but clutches at my arms, forcing me to hold him tighter.
“You are mine,” I purr into his ear.
~*~*~*~
The next night:
I awaken sore and feeling...fulfilled. I sent William home with the dawn, telling him we couldn’t spend the rest of the night together. He was upset by this decision, but kissed me farewell at the door when he left. I knew he wanted to sleep in his lover’s bed, but I couldn’t allow it. He would feel my coldness, my dead heart. I didn’t want him to know that...not yet.
I stretch out on the bed, luxuriating in the feeling of being completely sexually sated. I’m happy, hoping to see William some time soon.
*Knock, knock*
I’m surprised that he would come so early. I told him at 6pm and no earlier. I grab my robe, and wrap it around me. It’s a surprise when I open the door not to discover William, but the hotel porter. He holds a note in his hand - a telegram. I thank him, and close the door behind him.
“Coming home stop Meet me in the square stop Darla.”
“Fuck!” I snarl.
I dress quickly, knowing where and when Darla wants me. It’s the usual way she does it. I know the square; I will search her out, chase her through the darkened streets, and take her against the nearest wall. That’s the way she likes it and I (well, Angelus) never let her down.
I’m at a crossroads. If I do go, William will come here and find me gone, deserting him. If I don’t go, Darla will hunt me down and in the process find William. Either way William will be hurt. I fall down onto the bed, my indecision complete.
“Angel. It is time, Angel.”
“What?” I gasp. At first I expect anyone but the woman standing before me. William or Darla...but not Cordelia.
“It’s time, Angel. You have to go. The timeline must continue as written.”
“No!” I cry, suddenly realising what is going to happen. William is going to be hurting tonight, he’ll go out there in pain and alone, he’ll walk into Drusilla and she’ll sire him. “No, I can’t. You sent me here to save him.”
“No, Angel. I sent you here to make him fall in love with your soul. Which you have done. Last night he loved you completely.”
“No! If I leave now he’ll hate me forever. He’ll see me in Angelus, and be hurt because I won’t know him, and I’ll use and break him over time. I can’t!” I’m sobbing now.
“You have to go back, Angel. I can’t change time like that. Things have to go that way, otherwise... Otherwise, everything will come to an end.”
“Please, let me say goodbye.”
“No Angel, we’re leaving now.”
“Please, Cordelia, just a moment.”
The bright light around Cordelia increases, but she nods. “One minute, Angel.”
I run into the next room, and grab up the book of Irish poetry. I rush over to the bureau, and take hold of my pen. My mind is a blank on what to write. I promised to teach him my language, and I never did. He’ll never understand the poetry from Angelus, I hope that he’ll find me one day and I’ll tell him all. Thoughts of his body and mind fill me and I touch the paper with the nib.
William, I’ll love you forever, m’ bucahaill. Your Liam, for eternity.
Just as I write that last word, a bright light engulfs me.
*~*~*~*
Cold. I’m cold again. Frozen in the dark waters of the Pacific Ocean. My lungs are aching from the lack of oxygen. I desperately want to scream. Scream his name - William! My William!
So cold. So cold.
I’m alone. Aching. Frozen. Afraid. Empty.
There is nothing but silence.
Silence.
Silence.
*I’m coming my beloved Liam. M’ leannán, I’m coming.*
There is a tapping at the glass window of my coffin. A light.
I’m waiting for you, William. Come to me.
The End.
m’ candaí - My candy
M’ buachaill - my boy.
M’ álainn sclábhaí - My beautiful slave.
M’ leannán - My lover.
Ceangal mé - Join me.
Ó Dia - Oh god.
O’Brandbudh - Son of the Black Raven.