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A Night of Firsts

by iyaorisha

[Story Headers]

It happened the night that I made my first successful hunt.

It was inevitable that it would happen. Later, when everything was much clearer, I accepted that. And I realized that if it hadn't actually happened that very night, it was highly likely that it would have happened soon afterwards. But it was that very night. And, afterwards, I always felt that it happened that night because I had hunted.

As a boy, I longed to go to sea. Father's maternal uncle owned a respectably sized fleet of East Indiamen. On Sunday afternoon visits, Great Uncle Teddy brought me presents of scrimshaw and other maritime curiosities- once, a tarred rope bracelet that still held the tang of salt air. As he fastened it around my wrist, I felt a damp wind buffet my cheek and my mother's great Persian carpet disappeared as deck planking tilted underfoot. Though, as Nurse warned, the pitch gave me a terrible rash, I wore that bit of rope constantly until it unraveled completely and was lost in the garden.

When I was six, I naively asked my uncle to allow me to sign on one of his vessels as a cabin boy. My mother choked on her tea and my older sisters tittered. I ignored them and repeated my request, adding that I was willing to wait until I had reached the manlier age of nine. The old man laughed heartily and ruffled my curls in a manner that lead me to believe that it was agreed.

Imagine now, my surprise when the long-awaited birthday arrived and I was sent off to public school in Hampshire. For the next nine years, I learned the intricacies of Latin, cricket, and middle class aspirations instead of the workings of a merchant clipper. A braver boy might have run away from the school and stowed away upon some vessel bound for India. Not I; after a few weeks of homesickness, I discovered the lure of books and from then on, I lived my seafaring adventures in literature alone.

Not long after I became a vampire, I stole away from Angelus' house and went down to the harbor to see what I had missed. It was better than I had ever expected. It became my favorite hideaway when Darla could not abide my presence in the house or Angelus had Dru locked away in his chambers. The wharves were more than a shelter from the harsher realities of my new life. The harbor was also a marvelous place to watch humans and learn their vulnerabilities. My surveillance had paid off immensely. After tonight's visit to the wharves, my veins were full of warm blood and my left hand held a remarkable pearl -as big around as a child's marble and lustrous grey. Less than an hour ago, it had hung in the ear of a sailor from one of my Uncle's vessels. I couldn't wait to see it gleam darkly against Dru's ivory skin.

It was this unique pearl that caught my eye when I arrived at the wharves, hungry and ready to hunt. The owner was a strapping deeply-tanned fellow with heavy-lidded eyes the same shimmering color as the pearl. I could tell by his manner that he had money in his pockets and would head for the nearest dive in search of drink and a bang-tail or two. Then he would stumble back to ship to sleep of the night's carouse. I decided to alter his plans for the evening.

I had tracked the man for close to two hours before he became aware of me. That was when, as Angelus had promised, it became interesting.

I was relishing the night's events when the front door opened and slammed shut. Dru! I set the gleaming earring down on the mantel. Surely she'd spy it when she came to warm her hands at the fire. Then my demon sensed it -not Dru.


If he was home early, it was a bad sign.

Sure enough, my grandsire strode into the parlor He was uncharacteristically filthy. Whoever he had hunted that night had put up quite a fight. There was hay chaff from some stable floor in his hair and a smear of what could only be manure on the knee of his breeches. The greater part of the front of his usually spotless linen shirt was the color of a good burgundy. I was not only agog, but actually paralyzed with shock at his appearance. That's why I didn't duck when he cuffed me on the ear midstride.

"Whiskey, boy."

He downed the first glass in a single draught and then looked at me hard. "When I was a fledgling, I tried to anticipate my Sire's every desire." He gave a short, ugly-sounding laugh, "Understand boy, that this was very hard to do with Darla. But I tried." He glared at the empty glass, then at me.

I rushed forward with the whiskey, refilled his glass and at his gesture, left the bottle at his side. Then I sidled out of easy striking range. Careful not to draw his attention, I sought to retrieve my trophy. I moved with great care, but the pearl clicked as I picked it up from the mantel. The sound was like a gunshot to even my fledgling ears, but my Grandsire was in such deep reverie that he didn't look up. I dared not breathe a sigh of relief as I slipped the earring into my pocket.

Angelus' second and third glasses were consumed as quickly as the first. It made me nervous to see him drink like that, fast and without savor.

"You've been fighting, sir?"

"No, I've been at tea in Berkeley Square." The sarcasm was almost undetectable under his rising ire.

I ducked my head submissively. It was a stupid thing to say.

"Instead of standing there like an idiot, I'd be saying "I'll fetch hot water immediately, Sire!" he snarled.

I shot a glance at the clock. Quarter to midnight. Dru and Darla would not be home for hours. Even the minions were out for the night. Angelus was in a foul mood, and there was no one else home to distract him. Nervous, I reached into my pocket and lightly caressed the grey pearl with a fingertip. Would I be able to give it to Dru tonight? Or would I be a mass of bruises and torn flesh, unable to speak?

On his way upstairs, Angelus called out "Don't tarry boy!" I cast one last hopeful glance at the front door, hoping the women would also return early. Then I ran for the water.

He was already naked, scrubbing his hands and face in a basin of cold water when I backed into his room. I saw that some of the blood on the shirt must have been his own for he was badly scratched and gouged in several places. Before I could take full stock of his injuries, he noticed me looking and frowned.

I hurriedly staggered over to the tub. I was carrying three kettles. Two were both of a great size and had just been plucked from the enormous kitchen hearth. They held boiling water. Both were unpleasantly heavy despite my preternatural strength. In addition, they were difficult to manage because of the heat.

A third smaller kettle, awkwardly slung over my left arm, held cold water. It had clanged against the kettle in that hand all the way up the stairs, splattering drops of scalding water on my boots. I gratefully set the water down. As Angelus watched, I filled the tub with steaming water. I used some of the cold water to adjust the temperature, then set the remainder of the kettle on a hook over the fire in case Angelus wanted to bathe longer. He often soaked for upwards of an hour and had no mercy on the minion who allowed the water in the tub to cool. With the water ready, I scurried to get towels and soap from the linen press.In my rush, I mistakenly grabbed my own cake of Pears rather than the French-milled sandalwood soap Angelus favored. I didn't notice the error until the toiletries were laid out on the fruitwood bathstand. When he looked at the Pears quizzically, I expected a clout, but Angelus just stepped into the steaming bath with a grateful groan.

He slid under the surface of the water and remained there a frightening length of time. But then, vampires don't need to come up for breath. Still, it unnerved me to see him submerged for so long. His shoulder-length hair floated like coffee-colored seaweed on the surface, giving him the aspect of a drowned man.

Just when I was about to reach into the water, Angelus sat up and wiped the water from his face. Then he lay back and closed his eyes.

For a moment, I though that my Grandsire had fallen asleep. So I took the opportunity to sneak over and switch the soaps. Then I scooped up his discarded garments and tried to slip out to wash them. I thought I was rather quiet, but before I could reach the door, he stirred. "Just throw them in the fire, Will. The shirt's ruined and I don't ever want to see those breeches again."

I hastily obeyed, grateful to see the grimy clothing go up in flames. Then, as Angelus bathed, I stood awkwardly by the fire, unsure of what to do. He hadn't dismissed me, but he did not give me an order either. After a few minutes, he seemed to remember I was still in the room. Angelus did not look my way, but said lightly "You'd favor me by washing the filth and blood from my back."

I had never done this for anyone before. At first, I was too gentle, it seems. Wordlessly, he reached back and taking my hand, scrubbed. Then, I must have been too harsh, for after a few minutes, he murmured irritably, "No need to remove the skin, boy." I tried a moderate pressure and rhythm, which he must have liked because he did not say or do anything other than sigh as the soapy sponge glided over the graceful muscles of his back. This went on for a few minutes, for I didn't stop when he was clean. The sandalwood scent of the soap was soothing and I was fascinated by the preternatural healing action at work. His wounds were already closing, but looked strangely pink against his pale skin. Suds covered the griffin tattooed on his shoulder blade and I sluiced them away to reveal the winged beast in its full glory. My fingertip itched to trace it.

Suddenly Angelus grunted "Enough". I started a little, then stepped back and dropped the sponge into the basin of cold, dirty water. Once again, I waited uneasily, unsure of whether he was done with me or had merely forgotten that I was still present. He was silent, thus so was I. In fact, I fell into a standing half-sleep, rousing only when the fire crackled and popped a few times. It was the most peaceful quarter hour I had ever spent in his company.

When it broke the silence, his voice sounded weary, almost not like Angelus at all.

"I cleaned out a nest of ferals tonight, young Will."

His words instantly riveted me. As a fledgling, I had little contact with vampires outside our household. I frequently sensed and occasionally saw the other vampires in London. However, given that relations between strangers of our kind are seldom congenial, I was ordered to steer clear of them. Especially ferals, those unfortunates who rose and walked the earth without the supervision of Sire or even an unrelated master vampire.

When I was a fledgling, feral vampires were relatively rare. Siring takes an immense amount of personal strength. Few vampires would make that investment and then simply abandon their Childe.

Occasionally, however, the Sire was killed or otherwise prevented from reaching the new vampire before it rose. Such a fledge experienced its first bloodthirst without any assistance or explanation. Guided by preternatural instinct, the feral hunted. Half-mad from the need for blood and lacking of understanding their true nature, ferals would fall upon whatever warm-blooded creatures they found --regardless of nearby witnesses or the comparative strength of the "victim". Moreover, if no prey were nearby, the feral would hunt relentlessly through the night, not stopping even as the Eastern horizon began to glow.

It was no wonder then that most feral vampires died the first few nights out of the grave. What was a surprise was the tenacity of the tiny minority of survivors. They were notoriously vicious and resourceful. Feral vampires were also unforgivably sloppy -never bothering to conceal their human victims. Angelus and Darla often debated whether ferals left their kills in the open out of stupidity or defiance. Either way, the habit posed a danger to other vampires by alerting humans to our presence. And, thus, ferals did not fall under the protected status of fledglings or minions. They were regarded as preternatural vermin. Master vampires killed them as readily and without remorse as humans destroyed mad dogs.

It wasn't surprising that Angelus had exterminated the ferals. But it was amazing that they were living and hunting as a group. Ferals just didn't form covens. They didn't establish personal bonds or respect authority -- both critical survival skills for living with other vampires.

No doubt, this unusual conduct was behind Angelus' own strange behavior tonight. And I waited anxiously to hear his theory about the ferals' deviance. But he had fallen silent again and I dared not query him.

At length, my Grandsire reached for the soap and when he had worked up a great amount of sandlewood-scented lather, attacked his hair. I waited patiently as Angelus restored the great mane to its usual shining condition. After combing through one straw-filled tangle, he continued. "They were living in the loft of a hack stable, picking off the passengers. All I had to do was follow the trail of bodies."

Angelus paused to dip his head again and came up shaking his hair so that great droplets spattered about. As he rubbed at his head with a towel, he mused, "What were they thinking, hunting so near my territory? Don't they know I have a growing family to feed? Or is that they grow bolder now that I have two young to care for."

I wanted to tell him right then that I didn't need to be cared for anymore. But part of me preferred for Dru to know first. Torn, I began straightening the room, wiping up little puddles of water here and there. It was futile. The great Sultanabad carpet squelched beneath my feet in spots and I could already envision Darla's reaction. It involved the blonde virago's fingernails in my earlobe. I shuddered.

"You're home early," my Grandsire observed. "Is Darla punishing you again?"

I shook my head and brought him a glass of whiskey. He grunted in approval and said "You can take something from the larder if you like. That mudlark Dru brought home was still in there last I looked. She stinks of the river, but she's probably still fresh."

"No, sir. Mistress Darla gave her to the minions for breakfast."

"Is that so?" He rested his head against the back of the tub again, closed his eyes. "Well, I'll take you out in an hour."

"No thank you, sir. I've eaten already." I said with only a hint of pride.

Angelus opened his eyes and looked puzzled.

"I hunted today, sir." I grinned.

For the first time in weeks, I saw approval in his eyes. I feigned nonchalance and plucked the kettle from the hearth, asking "Should I add more hot water, sir?" But Angelus rose from the bath and gave me a hearty clap on the back. I staggered a bit and spilled some more water, but knowing Darla would have my hide for it didn't spoil my pleasure a bit.

Tell me all about it, I hoped Angelus would say.

"Tell me all about it, Will. Don't leave out a detail." He flung himself down on the chaise lounge, naked and dripping. I tried not to stare, but I was mentally calculating how long the upholstery would take to dry before Darla returned.

The chaise was a monstrosity. Nearly seven feet long and covered in claret- coloured velvet, it looked like it belonged in a brothel. For all I knew, that's where Darla got it. Even Angelus admitted it was ugly -thought not to our mistress' face. She loved the chaise as much as we loathed it. If there were water stains on the carpet and the chaise, the man I'd just eaten might be my last meal for days to come.

"I'm waiting, boy." Angelus reminded me, his voice lazy, but laced with a bit of his demon.

"I don't know where to start, sir"

"You were a writer when you lived. Weren't you? Tell it like a good tale."

I shook my head. "Begging your pardon sir, I wasn't that sort of writer. I was a poet and I'm told a piss-poor one at that."

He laughed. And I relaxed.

Then he patted the small section of the chaise not occupied by his large frame. "Come sit next to me, Will. I'm disinclined to crane my head about while you pace."

I sat down gingerly. There was so little room left that my thigh pressed against his bare leg. The contact was oddly distracting as I began my tale, but soon the words flowed easily. The only sounds in the room were my voice, the popping of the logs, and the occasional clink of the decanter against Angelus' glass. It was hypnotic to have an audience and I found myself drawing the story out. Not lying or even exaggerating, he would sense that instantly. Rather, I included every detail of the hunt that I could recall.

"After he left the tavern, I thought that he was wandering aimlessly. But when he turned left for the third time in a row, I suspected that he knew he was being tracked.

Angelus frowned at this detail. The importance of stealth had endlessly been drilled into me. A human victim who knew he was being stalked might raise a hue and cry. Even the weakest fledgling could fight clear of any crowd summoned -so long as the humans' numbers didn't include any vampire hunters. But the preternatural traits displayed in ensuing battle would create the same type of notoriety for which we condemned the ferals.

I pretended not to notice Angelus' frown and continued. "We both quickened our steps. He was longer-legged than I and knew the wharfs better. But, I had the scent of him now and could have followed him till dawn. That was, of course, until a gaggle of whores swept by, blocking my view of him. When they passed, he was gone. And the cloud of cheap perfumes left in their wake clogged my nostrils so that I could not smell my prey."

My grandsire looked thoroughly disgusted. I suspected that the next training sessions would focus on strengthening my preternatural sense of smell. I hastily continued.

"I began to run, hoping that I hadn't lost him. I rounded the corner and nearly tripped in surprise. The sailor was leaning against a barrel, grinning. He obviously had waited for me.

"And why did he do that."

"It's of no import, Grandsire." I stammered.

"I said not to leave out any details, Will." Angelus didn't raise his voice, but the tone was warning enough.

I glanced away. "He wanted me to see what he was doing."

Angelus raised an eyebrow. He was losing patience with me. I rushed to continue. "He wanted to me to see that he was touching himself. He had his hand in his breeches, sir. And when he knew that I saw what he was doing, he smiled and blew me a kiss.

"So he thought you were."

"Yes, sir." In my discomfort, I had interrupted Angelus, something I had learned the very first week to never do. To my relief, he seemed not to care. In fact, he was smiling now.

"And so, he let you follow him."

"Yes, sir. He walked much slower than he had before. Occasionally, he looked behind to see if I was still there."

"This surprises you, lad?"

"Yes, sir! I mean, I've seen Drusilla mesmerize humans before, but I have no such magicks."

Angelus laughed. "Ah, Will, it hasn't been that long since you've been able to look in a mirror."

I stared at him puzzled.

He started to say something more, then shook his head. "Continue."

"The man wanted me to meet up with him. He took care not to lose me. And, in the end, he even picked the alleyway himself!"

He laughed again, "What happened when you went into the alleyway?"

I closed my eyes and remembered. The sailor's face was flushed with lust when I turned around the corner. He had his thick reddish cock in one hand already and with the other, he beckoned me. He seemed so consumed with lust that he was ignorant of any danger I posed him. But as I drew near, I could see his grey eyes glittering behind half-closed lids. I gave him a smile as I wondered what to do next. He licked his lips and gestured that come closer still. When I shook my head, he lunged at me.

"He tried to kiss me." I said as quietly as possible.

"Hmm." Angelus mused. "And have you ever been kissed by a man before."

I hesitated. A hazy memory of George's mouth on mine one absinthe-soaked night threatened to break through carefully erected barriers. I started to shake my head, but Angelus' eyes flashed yellow and he said "Don't lie to me boy," in low, measured tones.

"Once before sir." I whispered.

"Speak up, Will." Angelus snapped.

"I said, once before sir."

Angelus leaned close and I caught a whiff of some indeterminate, but vaguely familiar scent rising from him. "Did you enjoy it?" he demanded.

I hesitated again. He reached out and gave me a little shake. "I don't know sir!" I compromised. "I was quite drunk. I don't remember it very well."

Angelus looked at me with suspicion, but he grunted "Go on."

"So I hit the sailor. Hard. And he flew across the alley. But then he sprang up, cursing, and came at me. Charging sir, like a bull. But I planted my feet like you showed me and when he grabbed me, I kept my balance and took him." I bragged.

"Took him?" Angelus queried in a strange voice.

"Yes, sir. When he grabbed me, I sank my teeth into his neck. He was right surprised. His face had the most shocked expression on it when he died."

"It sounds most exciting, Will"

"Oh yes." I babbled on, suddenly aware that Angelus' hand remained on my arm. "I made my first hunt, sir. And, I took this, as a trophy." I used getting the earring out of my pocket as an excuse to move away from my Grandsire, who was beginning to frighten me.

I held out the earring and he took it from me, his short, but sharp nails scratching my palm. I felt compelled to say something, "I know vampires don't usually take trophies, but it's beautiful, isn't it, sir?"

He nodded absently.

"With your permission, sir, I mean to give it to Drusilla." I said shyly "She loves presents and I thought I might have it made over into a pendant for a choker. That is, if I have your permission."

Angelus stared at the pearl, then me. "Yes, by all means." He paused. "Only wait until you are alone with her. Otherwise, Darla will fancy it and be riled that you have nothing for her." He handed the pearl back and laughed "Besides, boy, if you wait until you're alone, Dru's more likely to give you a fitting show of both her appreciation for the pearl and admiration of your new hunting skills." He winked at me; and this time we both laughed.

Angelus sipped his whiskey now. "When I had my first successful hunt, Darla rewarded me. What shall I do to recognize your success?"

I shook my head. "Nothing, Grandsire. Indeed, what can I do to express my gratitude at you patience in teaching me to hunt and listening to the tale of it."

Normally, Angelus would have detected such flattery instantly and sent me sprawling with a blow for daring an attempt to manipulate him. Instead, he threw an arm around my neck and said "Nonsense! You must have a reward."

His voice was slightly thickened with drink and I wondered if he was drunk enough to agree to what I so desperately wanted from him.

He saw my hesitation and gave me a long, searching look. "Shall I choose a reward for you."

I shrugged.

He gave me another appraisal. Then he grinned. "'Tis no pity you don't remember that kiss, Will. I've something much better for you." He leaned close, eyes oddly glazed, and I realized the strange scent in the air was his desire. I tried to scramble away, and fell off the chaise. I rolled to my knees and then attempted to flee from the room. By now, Angelus had downed most of the decanter of whiskey and it slowed him somewhat. Still, he easily caught me by the wrist and backed me against the mantle. With him looming above me and the fire behind, I was trapped. Now he smelled as strongly of anger as of desire.

"You would run from me, Will?" He said with cruel amusement. "I thought that you knew better than that."

I certainly did. Angelus didn't mind chasing his victims; in fact, he swore the racing of the blood gave it extra savor. But when if came to chastising childer and minion, he expected his target to stay still. I swallowed. "I'm afraid you're going to hurt me, sir."

His lips curved in a smile that revealed fang points. "I've hurt you everyday since you came amongst us. You don't run when I beat you."

"I don't believe you're going to beat me."

"No, I'm not going to beat you. 'Twill be a sweet and passing pain, young Will. And then, only pleasure." He laughed and gave my face a rough caress.

I trembled. "Please don't, sir."

"Have you never done this before?" he purred. I shook my head, truthfully I had not. I knew of Greek love of course, no English public schoolboy was that nave. But, I had abstained from the late night activities in the dormitories.

"No matter." Angelus said, "I will teach you as I taught you to hunt." His free hand moved toward my groin. I groaned at the contact and twisted away.

The slap I earned set my ears ringing, yet I welcomed the distraction of pain. Anything to take my mind off the flesh that betrayed me. My manhood had stirred in response to my Sire's deft touch. Even now, I was biting my lip to stop myself from rubbing against the broad hand cupped there. Worse, I could feel his immense erection pressing against my side.

"Come now, Will." Angelus cajoled. "It's clear that you enjoy my attentions. Why not savor them at full?" He plucked at the buttons and slipped his hand inside my trousers. He swore at the last barrier to my bare flesh and then pulled hard upon the bow carelessly knotted in the drawstring of my smallclothes. The string loosened, allowing the cloth to part. I gasped. I was painfully hard now and the feel of his strong fingers sliding around the shaft of my cock was almost unbearable. He bent and whispered in my ear. "Admit that you want me."

How could I deny it? His hand tightened on me and I gasped. "Yes!"

Angelus laughed and his mouth came down on mine. He bit my tongue and the taste of blood, whiskey, and my Grandsire made me dizzy. I felt myself giving in to not only his lust, but my own new desires. Summoning my demon for courage, I wrenched away. "But I cannot!"

"Ah, but you can." He scoffed and pulled me back.

Before I could succumb to another kiss, I pushed away and shouted "No! I will not."

There was an awful moment of silence when I realized that I had openly defied him. Not since the first fortnight had I dared to refuse him anything. Secret resistance through procrastination and feigned ignorance, yes. Even the occasional act of sabotage. But to tell him no. It was unthinkable.

Angelus released me. I staggered back, away from both him and the hearth, watching in fear as his eyes turned ocher.

"You may have made your first hunt, Will. But you are naught but a fledging of less than four months and my Childe besides." His voice was the icy calm that usually preceded extended beatings. Typically I dreaded that tone, but at that moment it was so welcome to my ears. As much as I feared his heavy hand or worse the lash, a thrashing was preferable to submitting to my Grandsire's lust.

I waited for the blow, but Angelus did not lift his hand. Dropping my eyes, I saw that his ardor had not abated. He followed my glance and grinned slowly, the glaze of desire returning to his eyes. I realized then that he would not be goaded into a beating.

Angelus was determined to have me.

It was foolish, but I broke then and attempted to run. Angelus moved swiftly then and I was caught against the low armless end of the chaise. His naked frame pressed against me and I fell backwards. It was, of course, his intent. Instantly, I was pinned to the damp velvet of the chaise, trapped below his weight.

"Please, sir." I pleaded.

Angelus shook his head. "I'd rather you came to me willingly, but I will have you nonetheless. It is my right as Sire." His finger tipped my chin up so that I looked into his eyes. The muddy yellow color clarified to pure gold as he dared me to challenge him.

I would have been mad to think that I could resist him.

I lowered my eyes submissively. He got off me and with one hand, flipped me over so that I was face down on the chaise. "I'd have taken you to my bed, Will. My bed. More than Drusilla got her first time. But, it's obvious I've been too soft with you."

There was the sound of tearing cloth as he yanked down my trousers and smallclothes in a single motion. Suddenly, I was unbearably chilled in the room that had felt so warm only ten minutes before. I quivered as Angelus bent and ran his hand over my naked flank.

"Ah, you're a beautiful boy," he murmured.

I hated him then. Hated him more for the tender words as he prepared to rape me.

He continued caressing my arse and thighs as he knelt. One hand slipped beneath me and closed around my flaccid cock. A few expert strokes and I was hard again. Soon, I was moaning despite myself.

Meanwhile, Angelus continued his soliloquy of honeyed words. I didn't believe anything he said. He wouldn't do this if he truly cared for me. Sadly, that didn't stop me from beginning to thrust my pelvis against his busy hand.

He leaned forward and rubbed his throbbing cock against my buttocks. The feel was maddening. My balls tightened with each stroke. A sobbing sound came from my throat, but he was purring.

Just when I thought that I would explode, he pulled his hand away. I groaned in protest and Angelus laughed. "No release yet, Will. Your punishment for resisting me."

It was punishment, but nothing compared to what happened next.

He parted my buttocks roughly and I fought the urge to struggle. He made a soft sound, not quite a sigh. Then I felt a trickle of something warm make its way into the crevice. I thought that he had climaxed and I slumped in relief.

Angelus choked with amusement. "Tis only blood, Will." He held his wrist before me and I could see the two neat puncture marks. He had bitten himself. I stared first at the wounds then into my Grandsire's goldstreaked eyes uncomprehendingly.

"I should take you dry," he mused, "You deserve it."

I shuddered at the thought of his massive cock entering me without anything to ease the passage.

"Remember this small mercy, Will. And take heed." The menace crept into his voice again and the hairs on my nape rose. "If you fight me the next time, I won't be so kind." He drizzled more blood and then worked it into my flesh. I tensed as one blood-lubricated finger slid into my arse. The invasion brought strange sensations, but no real physical discomfort. That came when the second digit entered and Angelus spread the two fingers to widen me. I moaned more from fear than the slight pain.

"Easy, lad." My grandsire murmured. He reached beneath me again and resumed those long agonizingly slow strokes. Now my cock was as hard as marble and lubricating his hand with clear droplets of pre-cum. The fluid made each movement silken and I couldn't stop myself from thrusting my hips to meet his hand. The hated pleasure began to blot out everything else -I barely noticed when he probed me with a third finger.

That finger pressed against some previously unknown place deep inside me. My eyes rolled back in my head at the increase in pleasure and my cock throbbed in time to the rhythmic pressure of Angel's fingers in my arse. Making love to Dru was marvelous, but nothing like this

As before, Angelus sensed when my release was close. This time though he simply clamped his hand down on the base of my shaft. Surely, those were not my protests!

He chuckled. "You're ready then."

"No, no!" I whimpered.

But it was to no avail. His fingers pulled out and I felt a sudden burning as my flesh tore. Just as I felt that I would be split in two, his hand started caressing my cock again. I gladly surrendered to the pleasure as a sort of anesthesia against the pain. There was an awful tearing sensation and then I knew that he was fully hilted inside me. A tear made its way down my cheek.

"Ah, sweet Will. I've waited so long for this. Too long." Angelus murmured. Then he began moving his hips.

At first, all I felt was pain. Even the stroking of my cock could not relieve it. His organ was simply too big. I marveled again how delicate Dru could bear it night after night for decades. I was crying freely now.

Perhaps he mistook my shuddering for pleasure because he reached out one hand and roughly caressed my back before he drove into me again. Now his thrusts were harder and faster and his hand moved in time upon my cock.

Unbelievably, I began to gasp as his own cock hit that wonderful spot inside me again. Each thrust sent pleasure spiraling throughout me. Despite myself, I began to move with him.

He laughed and quickened his tempo until I was shaking with pleasure. Two more strokes and the dam burst. I screamed as I sprayed my cold, white seed across the deep red velvet of the chase.

"Enjoyed that, didn't you, boy." It was a statement not a question.

I hadn't forgotten he was there. After all, he was still pounding into me. I thought maybe my torn flesh had already begun to heal because the searing pain was diminished. Instead of agony, pleasure came as he moved inside me. To my amazement, my manhood stirred again. He laughed as he felt it jerk in his palm.

I groaned as he pulled his hand away and grabbed my hips. It allowed him to better control his thrusts, but forced me to rub against the chaise for desperately needed friction.

Angelus was driving into me harder again. He varied his rhythm to make me gasp, but his thrusts were relentless. My flanks trembled under the onslaught. Just when I though I couldn't bear anymore, he roared. Sinking his fangs into my shoulder, Angelus came. His icy semen shot deep inside me and the sensation triggered my own second orgasm. The ring of muscles he violated danced with the force of my climax, milking him dry.

He collapsed onto me. Pressed face down into the chaise, I saw stains that Darla would have been blind to miss. It occurred to me that being raped by Angelus wasn't the worse thing that would happen to me before daybreak.

Yet, a part of me did not care. My demon had been satiated in some way that didn't involve blood. I realized then, that Angelus and I had been hurtling toward this since the moment Drusilla's blood passed my lips. I was Childe of his line. He could have claimed me at any time.

Instead, he had waited.

Had it been deliberate that he stayed his lust until the night that I made my first hunt? Until I had proved that I could survive on my own if I had to. That I could walk out of his house, forever.

Yes, leave. Without Dru, if I had to. Leave rather than bear his touch again. For there was no hope that tonight was a singular event. If I stayed, Angelus would have me whenever he pleased. And not just whenever, however.

With a shudder, I recalled his threat to take me dry if I fought him the next time. That and the well-stocked flagellary downstairs awaited me if I stayed. Worse, my demon would take a twisted pleasure in it all. Drusilla's commingled shrieks of anguish and ecstasy echoed through my memories. After tonight, I had no doubt that Angelus could wrest the same sounds from me.

The night was young enough. I could hunt again and still be halfway across London before dawn. I'd find some hovel in which to hide from the sun. And, then gone again minutes after nightfall, out of the city. Eventually, out of his reach.

All these thoughts passed though my mind in a few seconds. Then Angelus rolled off me and pushed me to my own side so that he could look into my eyes. I averted my gaze, but he took my face in his great hands and turned me to face him. One finger slowly traced a tear track on my cheek before he leaned forward and kissed me.

It was different than the earlier assault of his mouth upon mine. I wouldn't describe it as tender. That would imply that it was somehow devoid of hunger. That, no kiss between us would ever be. But, I sensed something other than his imperative to dominate me. Whatever it was, this nebulous emotion, it was somehow more disquieting than the rape itself had been. And, it was why I knew that I could not go.

Angelus was oblivious to the fresh moisture in my eyes as he broke the kiss. I watched through a kaleidoscope-like haze as he stood and used the cold, grayish bathwater to wash our mingled blood and semen from his loins. Then, he wrapped the remaining clean, dry towel about his waist and strode from the room. I could hear him humming some aria as he walked into his dressing room. No doubt, he would go out and hunt.

When the front door finally slammed shut, I opened my hand. A trickle of dark grey dust and a bit of mangled gold wire fell to the carpet. I had crushed the pearl earring. When the remnants mixed with my tears, it seemed no different than common mud.

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Fandom:  Angel, Buffy
Title:  A Night of Firsts
Author:  iyaorisha   [email]
Details:  Standalone  |  R  |  *slash*  |  35k  |  07/29/04
Characters:  Angelus and William the Bloody (Spike)
Pairings:  Aus/William
Summary:  After the fledgling William makes his first successful hunt, Angelus decides it’s time to claim his rights as Sire.
Notes:  BtVS Season 5 "Fool for Love"
Disclaimer/Other:  None of these characters or the world they inhabit belong to me. They belong to Joss and I promise to put them back when I’m done playing with them.

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