Summary: Xander plays with Angel. Vamp!Xander. Wishverse. NC-17. Slash.
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Warnings: Dub-con. Humiliation? Bloodplay (this is a vampire fic, after all).
A/N: This is the first BtVS fic I've written in close to a decade. I feel very rusty. It's also the only third person POV I've written in two years and I suck at it so hopefully it's not too painful. It's especially for sapphirescribe, who during the #buffywatchalong mentioned that she'd love a little Wishverse Xander/Angel. Happy very belated birthday, love!
Thanks so much to dellaterra, who despite having little knowledge of the Buffyverse (or the Wishverse for that matter) gave this a very thorough beta'ing. All mistakes that remain are mine.
Disclaimer: Joss is god. I've missed saying that so much.
The weight of the key in his hand is all it takes. Anticipation floods his sluggish veins. Xander approaches the cell slowly, drawing it out.
The chains clink as Angel moves. It's the same sound the key makes as Xander taps it against the bars.
Angel looks up. His brow is furrowed, his eyes narrow slits. "Just you?" he rasps.
Xander smiles. "Yeah. I've been a good boy and I get you all to myself. Willow's pouting."
Angel winces at the mention of her name. There is an innocent purity to her that twisted with the loss of her soul. Xander thinks she lacks imagination, but he will never tell her so. She can make Angel scream, but only in pain. Xander knows there is much more fun to be had making the vampire with a soul cry out in pleasure he doesn't want to feel.
"She'll take it out on me," Angel whispers. "You'll watch. Will you like it?"
Xander slips the key into the lock. "You know I will. I promise I'll make it worth every wound, every drop of blood she makes you bleed."
Angel drops his eyes down to the wide bands of steel around his wrists. He nods once, slowly.
It's enough that Xander knows, as he always does, that Angel has surrendered completely to him—will surrender to him every time.
It makes him laugh, high and manic in his excitement.
Willow never gives Angel a chance to heal completely. The same wounds are opened up, over and over and over again, until they are a thick, lumpy mass of scar tissue surrounding a festering, weeping centre of raw flesh. While Angel's chest is a mess, the rest of him is pristine, unmarred, beautiful. Xander loves to touch him, just like this, with Angel pressed against the wall, his cheek against the cold stone, his filthy shirt hanging from his manacled wrists.
Xander traces the lines of the ancient tattoo with his fingertips. Angel's whole body moves as he takes quick shallow breaths, and Xander doesn't quite understand why Angel feels the need to breathe. Xander doesn't anymore. He inhales through his nose because he likes to smell things, but he doesn't breathe.
Willow breathes through her mouth like she's tasting everything. Takes it right down into her lungs like she needs it.
Xander knows Angel isn't taking it all the way in. Xander can smell Angel's fear, but it's an undertone to the thick scent of arousal coming from the trapped vampire.
"You love it," he states, dragging his fingers down Angel's spine and slipping them into the back of his pants.
Angel says nothing, but takes a quick swallow of air that somehow answers in the affirmative.
A quick tug at the back of Angel's pants and the button and zipper give. They're loose, and they fall to the floor. Angel gives a quick intake of breath at the sudden exposure.
Xander laughs. "You act like an untouched virgin, Angel." He laughs again, then lets go of the demon. Angel stiffens as bones audibly crunch and shift. Xander bites into his own wrist and the scent of his blood fills the cell.
Angel gasps, then begs. "Please."
Angel is always starving.
"You'll wait," Xander spits. He pumps his fist to make the blood flow and fills his hand with the thick, sticky fluid, then he slides it between the cheeks of Angels ass. He forces two fingers inside the chained vampire and smiles at the cry of pain he elicits. When Xander pulls his fingers free, he offers the hand to Angel.
Angel licks the offered hand clean of Xander's blood, then clamps down on the wound and sucks.
Xander opens his jeans, lines up his cock and drives himself deep into Angel, who bites down in pain and hunger, his face shifting into demon form even as his teeth embed themselves in Xander's flesh. His cry of agony is muffled by the flesh in his mouth, as is the grunt he lets out as Xander pulls back and thrusts himself back inside Angel's body.
As lubricant goes, vampire blood isn't highly effective. It's too thick, too close to clotting, too sticky, but Xander doesn't care about Angel's comfort. He bleeds to taunt the starving vampire, to drive him mad with blood lust, and he does it to keep Angel alive. Barely.
Because Willow doesn't care.
Xander does. He'll admit that he likes fucking Angel, but there's nothing else to admit to. There's no fondness there. Xander isn't capable of it.
He pulls back and drives himself into Angel again. The blood has clotted, dried. Angel screams as Xander hurts him, as Xander breaks him, and the air fills with the scent of Angel's blood, then Xander's own blood lust rises and he pulls out, thrusts hard again. While Angel is still screaming, he bites down into the meat of Angel's shoulder, driving his teeth deep into the flesh.
The blood, when it comes, is thick and concentrated. He's had only vampire blood—Xander's blood—for months. He needs a human, and Xander resolves to bring him one. If he lets Angel starve a bit first, he won't refuse it. Xander takes more than he usually would.
The chains rattle as Angel touches himself. He jerks himself hard, desperate to come, and when he does, he again drives his fangs into Xander.
Xander pulls his arm away. He sucks harder on Angel's shoulder until the flow stops.
Angel is weak. The only thing holding him up is Xander. Xander is thrusting harder, faster. Coming is hardly the best part of this endeavour. The best part is done. Over. Angel is finished. Xander has broken him. Again.
Xander smiles and pulls out. Still hard, he holds his cock in his hand and pumps it a few times as Angel slumps to the floor, covered in blood, his own come, and the filth that has built up over years.
Angel barely has the strength to open his eyes and look up at Xander. Xander waits, still slowly stroking himself until Angel finally gives in.
"Please," he whispers.
Xander smiles, then strokes himself hard a few times. He starts to come, and spills cold dead semen onto Angel's face.
Angel lifts a hand weakly and wipes it away, then licks his fingers. He closes his eyes.
"I'll bring you something to drink," Xander says casually as he leaves the cell, locking it behind him. He laughs as Angel whimpers.
Xander smells Willow before he sees her. "Oh," she pouts. "You messed up my puppy."
Xander reaches out and slides his hand onto the back of Willow's neck. "Sorry, Will."
"Liar," she says, then peers through the bars.
Xander looks too. Angel lies where he left him. He's naked but for the pants around his ankles. There's a bloody smeared handprint on his hip, and gobs of come on his cheek and throat. He looks used up.
"It's pretty," Willow says. She holds her hand out for the key.
"You gonna mess him up some more?"
"Try not to kill him."
Willow glances up at Xander with a gleam in her eye. Willow always takes out her disappointments on the puppy. Xander thinks Angel will be lucky to get through this one alive.