Xander stared at the reflection of himself in the mirror, trying desperately not to cry. He was a man, dammit, and men didn’t cry. Not even when their super-model gorgeous girlfriends decided to pick Valentine’s Day to break up with them. After complimenting them on how they were dressed, too.
Maybe he shouldn’t have let Buffy pick out his clothes. Maybe if he’d been regular Xander instead of hip, sexy Xander—her words—then Cordy would have at least done it before, like sane people. But Cordy? Sane? Polite? Oh, no. These are words foreign to the lovely Miss Chase’s vocabulary.
Tonight was supposed to have been perfect. Sweep the girl off her feet, have her swoon dramatically in his manly arms, with the promise of more than just the pet-and-kiss broom-closet routine. Maybe some actual naughty touching. Maybe some—
“Well, well. Look what I found.”
Xander’s exclamation was muffled by a cold hand suddenly wrapped around his mouth. Wide, terrified eyes looked back at him from the mirror, seeing nothing there but his own fear. He tried to struggle as an arm that felt like iron wrapped around his middle, holding him immobile. The only other time he’d been held so tightly was when Angel had offered him up as a snack to Spike—
—but this wasn’t Angel.
Despite the voice shouting ‘run away’ inside his head, Xander opened his mouth and bit hard on the bits of fingers he could reach. The hand moved away and, although he wasn’t released, Angelus gave a grunt of displeasure. “Get off me, Deadboy. One yell and Buffy’ll be here faster than you can say—”
“Oh, yeah, Xander. Love that bravado. Keep talking, huh? The way you squirm around. . . it’s almost as good as the way you squirm around.”
Oh, shit. His body froze before his mind fully processed that statement, every nerve focused on the hard pressure directly above his ass.
“Aww, now why’d you have to go and stop like that? It felt good.” The accompanying thrust against Xander’s back erased the half-formed notions that Angelus had shoved something extra into those skin-tight leather pants. “Mm, nice smell. Not really fine French cuisine, but there’s something to be said about fast food. Better than Buffy, sometimes, especially when you’re—” Xander squeaked as something cold and wet and oddly soft slithered along his jugular, “so scared. It’s kinda cute, really.”
“Buffy is going to kill you,” he managed, voice choked and tight behind his clenched jaw. “And when she does, I’m gonna be there to laugh at your ashes.”
“Oh! Oh, I’m so scared!” Angelus feigned. “Do you really think she’s going hear you? Or care?” Leaning in close, he let his voice drop to a low rumble. “Do you really think she’d choose you over me?”
“In the heartbeat you don’t have,” Xander ground out, struggling again with frantic strength. He’d overheard enough of Giles’ conversation to know that Valentine’s Day was on of Angelus’ favorites and he really had no desire to become the latest and greatest display of Angelus’ House of Tortures.
Not until I make Cordelia hurt as much as I am, anyway. And hey! This is her fault! If she hadn’t been so stupid and popular we could’ve been doing the hump’n’fumble with her right now. Instead I’m here, in the men’s bathroom at the Bronze, with something that is so not a Cordelia.
“Wrong, boy.” Another hard thrust and the hand previously covering his mouth slid down his belly to stroke over flesh that should in no way be responding to the quick, light touches. “She looks at me and she still sees her precious Angel. And you, boy,” sharp squeeze that robbed Xander of the ability to do anything but hang there while was played with, “will always come second.”
The door opened, disturbing what Xander figured was probably going to be today’s edition of gruesome and painful. Twisting around, words like ‘help’ and ‘Buffy’ already on his lips, pulling in breath to scream them—but Angelus was clamping down on his mouth again, throwing him hard against a wall while he snarled—a terrifying, animalistic sound—at the two boys who stood frozen in the doorway. “Get out,” he hissed through teeth Xander knew were sharp and pointy.
The door swung shut with a resounding bang.
“Hm, what to do about all these interruptions?” Tossing Xander negligently to one side, Angel ripped off one of the partition doors, forcing it against the main door to jam it. Xander groggily forced himself to his feet. The tiled walls were hard.
“Mm. I smell blood.” Shifting back to his human face, Angelus was back next to Xander before he could blink. His renewed attempts to struggle were batted away, his body manhandled up against the wall, with Angelus pressed up tight behind him. “Oh, yeah. Like finding a nickel on the floor.”
“If you’re going to kill me, then kill me.” Still struggling weakly, Xander cringed and tried to move his head away as Angelus began lapping at a cut on his neck, right below his hairline. “But this playing thing? Of the not amusing variety. This is the cricket of playing. Or curling. This is curling.”
Angelus just laughed, beginning those maddening thrusts again. That hard, solid part that Xander really didn’t want to identify slid along his back, helped by the sweaty silk that clung to him. “Oh, you taste good, Xanny-boy. I think you just earned yourself a couple more days of life. I wanna savor this.”
A couple of days more was good, since that meant he could go find Buffy to hide. The rest of it, though—what, am I demon-nip? What the hell is it that makes them all attracted to me?
“That’s right, Xander, keep moving like that. Feels good.” Angelus’ solid weight trapped his hands against the wall, leaving him totally defenseless as two cold, long-fingered hands slid around his waist to roughly strip him of first pants and then boxers. The material bunched around his thighs while Angelus fisted his freed cock. “I think somebody else likes this, too.”
“Get off me, perv. Buffy is—”
“Buffy, Buffy, Buffy. Gee, Xander, you’d think you didn’t have any balls the way you constantly run to hide under her skirts.” One hand set up the same teasing strokes, the other patting around until Angelus found the objects in question. “Hm, pretty big pair here. You think I should cut them off? Then, at least, you’d have an excuse to scream like a girl.”
Oh, god. A low moan broke inside his throat, fueled mostly by fear. Okay, okay, think. Gotta get away. What would Buffy do? She’d turn around with some witty pun and kick his ass. Also, she wouldn’t be here, since this is the men’s room. Can I do the pun-and-kick? More thrusting by Angelus now, faster than before, matching the vampire’s quickening pace on Xander’s own cock. Totally unwanted lust crawled up his body, making his nerves sizzle and his brain fog. No, really don’t think so.
“Gee, Xan, I’m not really a patient kinda guy and I think I asked you a question. Do you want to keep these?” Hard squeeze, almost painful but it just made his cock throb harder.
Gasping, Xander pressed his face against the dirty wall. There wasn’t any way out of this except letting Angelus have his way, not with skilled hands playing him right where he lived. “Yes. I—I want to—oh, god. You’re—disgusting!”
“Disgusting? That’s just. . . you really think I’m disgusting?” He was momentarily released, the sound of leather being manipulated and—oh, god. Angelus was now rubbing his freed cock against Xander’s back and butt. “Don’t you think that’s just a little bit hypocritical, Xanny-boy?”
“I’m seventeen. Of course I’m horny.” He couldn’t exactly hide the erection Angelus was still playing with. “Why, you want a prize?”
“Congratulations!” Angelus immediately returned. “You’ve just won a handful of teenage ejaculate!” The chuckle was sinister as Angelus began lapping at the still-bleeding wound on his neck again. “Think I want something else, boy-o.”
“What you want a medal to go with it? Not satisfied with—urk.” Taunting the guy whose hand was on your dick was a bad thing. Because he could hurt you.
Angelus pressed up close, his cock cold and a little slimy against his back. “How about a scream, instead?”
Whole body shivering, Xander tried to catch his breath long enough to think. He knew Angelus played games, he’d read the journals Giles didn’t want them to read, but now that he was there, stuck between a cock resting on the cleft of his ass and a hand busily stroking him off, all those carefully planned moves and retorts deserted him.
“Come on, loser-boy, you can give me one little scream, can’t you? I’ll even make you a deal. I won’t kill you. I won’t even hurt you. . . much.”
There had to be a catch. Nothing with Angelus came easy. Again with the coming. Again with the very bad. “What’s the catch?”
“Gasp! You wound me!” Apparently, ‘wounding’ Angelus pleased him, because he was chuckling as he began to tug and fondle Xander’s balls. “No catch. I don’t really do catching, Xanny-boy. . . but I bet you do.”
There had to be innuendo there. The tone of his voice clearly said that there was screaming innuendo—and Xander had no idea what the hell it was. “Catch, throw, that’s balls, right? That’s me, I’m a baller.” Angelus was pulling him off so hard it hurt, but he was so close, just a few more seconds—
“Ah, ah, ah! Not so fast,” Angelus chuckled. “What’s the matter with you kids, don’t your elders teach you patience anymore?”
Xander groaned as the base of his cock was pinched painfully tight, forcing back his impending orgasm.
“Not that I don’t think you couldn’t get it up again—teenagers, almost as good as a vamp that way—but I want this to be part of the deal.”
“Deal? What kind of deal?” Deals were good things, right? And he’d said that there’d be no death. . . as if Angelus could be trusted to keep his word, right. Even so, a slim chance was better than no chance. “I’m all for dealing,” he punned, putting every ounce of bravado he could muster into his voice. “Just tell me what you want.”
“But where’s the fun in that, huh? Gosh, Xanny. I almost think you don’t want to make it out of here alive.” Still chuckling, Angelus backed up enough to spin him around so his naked butt pressed against the wall. “Do we deal?”
“Tell me the terms.” Feeling another guy’s cock against my own is not supposed to be a turn on!
“Aw, and I thought you were the fun one!” A half-step closer and their bodies were completely flush against each other, so close that Xander could feel cold, faintly fetid breath every time Angelus spoke. “I told you, Xanny-boy. I wanna hear you scream.” Angelus’ grin was cruel, sadistic, and gleeful. “From pleasure.”
Xander coughed, his body unable to actually laugh the way it wanted to. “You want me to get off? Do you remember the conversation we just had?”
“Oh, yeah,” Angelus purred, thrusting lightly while still holding hard at the base of Xander’s cock. “But I want you to get me off, first. Whaddaya say? You up to it?”
He knew he was making that squeaky, girly noise that he hated, but he wasn’t really sure how not to. “You—you want me to give you a hand-job?”
“Well, gee, thanks for the offer, kiddo,” Angelus’ mocking expression made parts of Xander wish they could shrivel up, “but I’m thinking of a little more than that. You’d love it if I took that virgin ass of yours, wouldn’t you? All that humping and thrusting.” His hips moved in time with his words. “I remember how you looked at Angel, how good you smelled sometimes. You were begging for it. And since I’m such a helpful guy, I’m gonna make sure you get it.”
The actual prospect of rape wilted him instantly, fear so consuming that he hardly registered the dig to his sexuality. “No deal,” he rasped. “I won’t—I—”
The nasty chuckle actually reassured him—a little. “Oh, not now. You’d definitely be screaming if I took you like that, but tonight I’m in the mood for something less. . . exacting.” Angelus’ fingers began to dance over a heaving belly, stroking teasingly along Xander’s softened length. “Besides, I want to cover you in me and I want to see your face when I do it.”
Xander swallowed, fed up with not understanding what Angelus was saying. Covered? What the hell did that mean? “Look, obviously virg—I mean, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Shame made him flush dark red, the heat of it combining with his returning lust to make him dizzy. “So just—tell me already.”
“Aw, Cordy didn’t put out? Or haven’t you made it to the really juicy porn-mags yet? I thought a modern boy like you would know all the tricks already.” He laughed again when Xander said nothing, reaching up to tug gently on his lower lip. “Sounds like you need a teacher, Xanny-boy. Lucky for you, I’m willing. For tonight’s lesson, we’re going to start slow. I’ll teach you how to give a blow-job next time.”
“Oh yes,” he purred, interrupting Xander’s terrified stuttering, “there will be a next time. I said I wouldn’t kill you tonight, but that doesn’t mean I’m through with you.”
That tallied nicely with the books Xander was really regretting having read, although it wasn’t making him feel any better. The stories of Angelus stalking certain people, appearing years later to continue the mental torture. . . But those people didn’t have a Slayer, a Watcher, and a Willow to defend them, Xander reminded himself desperately. Just get through this and get out of here. Simple. So simple even I can do it—survive and then run and hide behind the women.
Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Xander stopped fighting the feelings Angelus was producing and became fully hard. Take that, older and more experienced dead guy. I can control myself—okay, the mind-numbing fear is helping, too, but I did it. Thrusting into the moving hand, Xander forced his eyes open and met the vampire’s squarely. “Okay, Obi-Wan. Teach me.”
Angelus threw his head back and roared his laughter, squeezing down hard at the same time—without, however, distracting Xander from realizing that Angelus had no idea what an Obi-Wan was. “I just love it when my food plays back. Gives me such a thrill.”
“Really? Cause from my end, it’s such a bore.” Okay, that might have been too much bravado since he really didn’t want Angelus to shift to game face again.
“Lesson one, virgin-boy.” Letting go of Xander’s cock—and no, he did not groan at that—Angelus put both palms on the wall above Xander’s shoulders and pressed his hips into Xander’s, trapping their cocks between them. “The easy way.”
He started rubbing; hard, firm movements that dragged his cock the length of Xander’s, over and over again. Xander gave a harsh shout, grabbing onto Angelus’ flapping leather coat for balance as fire burned through his entire body with each stroke. None of his previous experiences, by himself, that one time Cordelia had rubbed him off, and even what Angelus had been doing before prepared him for this. It was amazing, the cold, hard pressure against his own, hitting every spot.
“That’s right,” Angelus crooned encouragingly. “You love it, don’t you. I’m using you, Xanny-boy. Taking your warm, soft body and using it to get off and you love it. Maybe I should make you blow me now? I bet you’re a natural. I bet you want to be down on your knees, swallowing me down until you’re drowning in me. I bet you crave it.”
Xander rolled his eyes, trying hard not to let them roll back into his skull. “God,” he panted, hips jerking reflexively. “Do you ever shut up?”
The answering low growl made his body freeze—and his cock throb so hard he started to see spots. “Time for lesson two,” Angelus rumbled, backing up just enough to fit Xander’s right hand around both their cocks. “Do I really need to give you instructions for this one?”
“Nah. Me and the sock-puppet of love are well acquainted.” He began to stroke them both while Angelus continued to press up against him. He was vaguely aware when Angelus began to lick and suck at his neck and shoulders, the jolt of fear only making his hand move even faster and harder. Just get through this, he reminded himself. Then I hide behind Buffy for the rest of my natural life. . .
“American boys, so interested in playing with themselves. Time for the main event. Pull your shirt up.” Xander complied, sliding the button-down so it hung from his right arm. Angelus smirked, ripping off the dark undershirt so that he was naked from the waist up. “Nice. Do you work out? On second thought, don’t answer. I don’t care.”
Xander had about two seconds to realizing what was happening before—
Teeth. Razor sharp, a little wet and cold, sliding like needles into his skin, ripping and tearing at the flesh right above his left nipple. Xander shrieked at the pain, throwing his head back and he had no idea how he wasn’t coming right that instant because it hurt, it hurt so much but it made him pulse and throb like he never had before. Angelus was growling into his skin, half-angry, half-moaning sounds that made him even harder and he could feel the blood being pulled from his body and it hurt, god it hurt so badly.
Then Angelus was wrenching his hand away, removing his teeth and licking at the bleeding wounds that remained, whispering harshly that Xander better scream or the deal was off. Harshly stripping his own cock, leaving Xander to bob and weave alone, Angelus gave a deep grunt and then he was coming, semen splashing all over Xander’s chest and belly and some of it even landing right on the still bleeding wounds and Xander—
His throat was raw when he finally stopped howling and he was peripherally aware of Angelus using a paper towel to wipe something white and kinda translucent off his hands. Oh, Xander realized dumbly. I came.
Numb and hurting and confused, Xander stumbled forward for his own paper towel. Angelus wrenched him back. “Ow, dammit!” he yelled as he was slammed back up against the wall. “I did what you wanted, didn’t I? Or are you changing the rules, after all? And did you have to pick my left side to play with? That hurts.”
“Oops—didn’t I tell you? You get to walk out of here, looking like the little slut you are and smelling of me. I think you’re gonna have quite the time the time getting home. But don’t worry.” Angelus leaned close, massaging the dripping come into Xander’s abs, licking at the bite-marks a little. “You’ll still be in good shape for our next little lesson.”
Xander remained passive while the whole mess was worked into his skin, still not moving while Angelus cleaned and buttoned himself back up. Not gonna be a next time, he thought but carefully did not say. Because Buffy’s gonna kick your ass even if I have to tell her what you did to me tonight. This is so not over, Deadboy. Not even close.
Except he should probably make sure he didn’t go out alone anymore.
“’Night, Xanny-boy.” Boosting himself up to the smashed-open window, Angelus offered a cheery grin and a wave before disappearing.
Leaving Xander dirty, bleeding, afraid—and locked inside the men’s bathroom.