a.connor  a.doyle  a.lindsey  a.oz  a.spike  a.wesley  a.xander  a.other  three.somes  het.fic  character.study           
Title: Bruised 4
Author: Lar 
Pairing: Aus/X
Rating: NC-17
Setting: AtS, S2- 'Reprise' & 'Epiphany'



The sound of his boot heels echoes around him, clear against the background noise that swirls on every side. Angel sees something new in the humans before him tonight, sees the darkness that drives them all. Holland Manners has made it so clear, and Angel wonders why he never saw it before.

// If there wasn't evil inside every one of them out there, they wouldn't be human. They'd be angels.//

Finding the car takes long moments of wandering aimlessly, his thoughts clouded with realizations that he cannot sort out into any logical order. There is no fight to win, there is nothing to battle. Evil, darkness, they exist and will continue to do so, and his promised redemption is nothing more than a tattered, useless prize. Carrot and stick, and he had fallen for it.

Sounds of a fight to his left and Angel turns to watch dispassionately as two men rage and shove each other. Somehow he knows that one of them has a knife and the other will be dead or dying in a moment. Turning his back, Angel walks away. Remembers where he left the car, heads there and never looks back, even when the scent of blood hits the air.

=====

The ride to Sunnydale flashes by him on a blur of rising fear and loneliness. He's going on instinct now, the basic undiluted animal need to seek comfort in times of distress. Something inside of him is urging him on, but he isn't sure what is driving him, demon or panic. Possibly both, one feeding the other until he's in this fevered pitch of hurt and confusion.

Parks in the shadows of a tree down the street from her house and makes his way to the front yard. Silently he slips into the hedges and watches.

Golden light inside the living room, family gathered. He can hear their voices, the tones distinct and well remembered. Joyce admonishing Dawn to finish her homework, Dawn's irritated reply, and then the voice that still resonates through him, right to his backbone every time he hears it. Buffy joins them, and he is caught in the web of her, the light of her. Gaze eagerly taking in every detail //her hair's longer, she's lost weight, she looks so tired// and letting the pain of it all wash over him. Watching as the sisters argue in mock anger, teasing affection evident in every syllable, Angel is struck again with the force of a physical blow with his otherness. His non-belonging. Evidence presented to him once again that he has no place in this world, and never will.

Peal of Dawn's laughter and he looks closely, sees how she's grown. More young woman than child, and he'll never know her now, never learn her habits, never be part of her world. He thinks with real longing of Cordelia and Wesley, and the family he had with them, the one he destroyed with his words as brutally as Angelus ever murdered with claw and fang.

Steps out of the hedges, head reeling with the ache inside him, and comes face to face with Xander. They freeze and the light wind brings Angel a rich wave of Xander's pheromones. He blinks slowly as he detects fear, anger. A definite streak of desire that's as strong as the other two combined, although twisted and interlaced with something else, something like what he imagines hatred might smell like. The beast within, already rustling at the gates, sits up and takes notice, draws back the curtain on memories of Xander and he in another skin. Taunting flickers of not-so-long-ago indulgences, carnal and fleshy, colored crimson in recollection.

//Xander naked, on his knees, on his back, mouth open and wet, Xander's blood, Xander's come, all of it, all of it//

Flash stream of recall interrupted by "So Deadboy, you hung up the Batman cape and reverted to stalking again?"

// Xander begging, baring his inner thigh; Xander submitting, head bowed //

Angel just stares; he can hear the boy's heartbeat from here, sees him tense for the flight that Angel knows is a breath away, says in a low voice, "I remember everything." It could pass for apology if he lets it, but he won't. They'd existed in false ignorance for weeks after his return, before the journey to LA, and he'd let Xander fall back on the comfort of believing the memories to be his alone. Tonight the pretense is too much to maintain, and why should he bother, really?

"Fuck. See, I knew I should have begged off the babysitting job tonight." Xander runs a hand through his hair, sighs, looks over Angel's shoulder in what is doubtless hope of rescue from the situation.

Angel watches the boy make some kind of decision, sees his eyes flicker a split second before he breaks and runs, and this too is familiar. Remembers with blinding clarity the night he took him in the alley, Angelus in charge but every memory is there and clamoring for attention. Blur of movement and Xander's trapped in his arms, one hand over his mouth. Arm like a steel band over the boy's chest, and he lifts and hauls him to the car. Presses him against the hood, flips him abruptly so they are face to face.

"You can get in, or I can cover your face until you pass out and I put you in myself." States the situation calmly, sees Xander's eye widen and then narrow as he considers the options. Small nod and Angel releases his mouth. "You'll be getting in on your own then?"

"It's a close choice, but oxygen deprivation gives me a headache. You're the lesser of two evils." Emphasis on 'lesser' and Angel smirks at him.

"I think we both know that's not the case at all." He puts a hand on Xander's chest, holds him there effortlessly as he unbuckles his own belt and snaps it out of the loops in a long motion. Grabs Xander's wrists, loops the belt over and around, binds them tight. "Just a little insurance that you won't try and do something stupid like jump out of a moving car."

"Or stake you while you're driving?" Xander tugs on the leather, irritated jerking movement that will only make the loop tighter, cut off the circulation to his hands. Flinches away when Angel reaches out and grabs his shirt, pulls him upright, hurries him into the car. Leaps in nimbly right behind him, one boot step over Xander's tense body and slithering down into place behind the wheel.

"Where are you taking me?" Shake to the voice that Angel knows Xander hates to show and he turns his head.

"Your apartment." Watches the realization flicker over the boy's face, wonders if he'll make the Willow-Cordelia connection. Sees him get another thought that lessens the panic for him just a notch. Angel lets him keep his secret to himself for the time being. Pulls away from the curb and drives, one hand wound around the belt that is cutting into the skin on Xander's wrists.

=====

Up the steps, down the hallway, and they stand at Xander's door. Angel prompts him for the keys and takes no small measure of satisfaction in reaching into Xander's front pocket to pull them out. Lets his hands brush the bump of hipbone through khaki and nothing more before hooking the keyring with his finger and drawing them out. Only then does he release the belt and watch Xander shake his hands and wince as the blood flow returns.

"Thanks, that was the most fun I've had in weeks," he spits out, rubbing the angry marks on first one wrist and then the other.

"As I recall, you always did like the bondage portions of our evenings. Made you feel all out of control and helpless, like you weren't really the one who came to me every time." Angel's face so close to the boy's and he sees the flush spread like fire over his face and neck. Hovers there for a minute, eyes hooded and watching, waiting for the response. Sees him open his mouth once, twice, and swallow down whatever thought flashed through his head, and this is new. Xander has learned to think before speaking on occasion.

Angel steps back and lets him slide the key in the lock. Hears the tumblers roll over, the click of the knob as it turns, and the second the door swings open, he grabs Xander by the neck, hauls him back against him.

"Just so we're straight on the etiquette for the night, you *will* be inviting me in." Mouth by Xander's ear, and the heat of the boy burning through the clothes he wears.

"Fuck you." Gasping pants, but he doesn't struggle. Stands there until Angel grasps his wrists and pulls the behind his back, palms pressed up and fingers spread. Holds the wrists in one hand and wraps his other hand around Xander's index finger.

"I guarantee that I can get you to invite me in before I break all ten fingers. Want to make a bet on it?" Tightens the hand around the first finger and twists just a little, just enough to hear the boy yelp. Wonders if he will actually have to do it after all.

"Fine you prick. You're invited in. Now get *off* of me!" Pulling away and shrugging his shoulders, Xander steps into the apartment. Angel is on his heels.

The door isn't even clicked closed behind them and the phone rings, shrill screech that makes Xander jump. He makes a move to answer it, but Angel pushes past him, grabs it by the base and tugs. It comes off the wall and hits the floor with the crack of plastic and twang of snapping cord. Angel watches Xander look up from the wreck of the phone, sees his throat working as he tries to swallow. Smells the fear climb up to the highest note on the scale of scents he is putting out.

Finally Xander manages to speak. "What are you doing here? I don't play these games anymore."

Hands on his hips, Angel considers the question. Cannot begin to give him an answer, because he doesn't have one to offer. Thinks again of the self-satisfied smirk on the face of Holland Manners as he tells him all the things that Angel has never wanted to know.

//When you locked those cellar doors and left me to die, you reached your Shanshu. In that moment. With that one act -- you were as close to your own humanity as you'll ever be.//

Feels the weight of his own singularity push down on his shoulders, crushing loneliness, dark and endless. Steps toward Xander, says, "I'm not playing. I just want to feel something besides the cold."

Steps again, grabs the boy, feels him shaking. Xander's hands come up, push against Angel's chest, feeble attempt to escape. The thrumming of his blood is louder than anything in the world, the smell of him invading Angel's skin, heat radiating off in waves that crash against him. Scent of blood and lust as powerful as the temperature of his skin, the texture of it still branded in his brain, calling him to the tumble-glide from his pedestal of denial.

Pulls him in closer, nose brushing against his face, down to his neck, whispers, "Don't you feel the cold?" and inhales the tang of arousal that is beginning to override everything else.

"No, I don't feel...anything," Xander groans out, but his body betrays him when Angel strokes a hand down his back, presses him in so their hips touch and he can feel the hardness there. Lets his mouth brush against his neck, tongue flicking out to wet the skin above the jugular.

"I feel everything." Rubbing movement of his hips produces another wordless sound from Xander, and Angel lets his mouth trail up the boy's neck, across his jaw. Rough brush of stubble against his own skin, and can almost feel the tension as Xander tries to fight the conditioned response.

One hand in the dark curls, sharp tug that elicits a gasp, and Angel takes the open mouth with his own. Slick tongue invades Xander's mouth, runs harshly across teeth and palette, and it's so warm in there. Warmer still when Xander responds, his own tongue coming up to meet Angel's and the hands on Angel's chest fisting his shirt, holding it tight.

When the kiss breaks, Xander opens his eyes and shoves hard on Angel's chest, startles him with the movement, causes Angel to lose his grip. Looks down at Xander, who is sprawled on the floor gracelessly, flushed and shaking, eyes heavy and mouth swollen.

"You can't do this," Xander grinds out from between clenched teeth, but makes no attempt to stand. "It's over, it's history, and I..." His words cut off abruptly as Angel drops to his knees between his legs and throws his body on the boy. Rough hungry kisses prevent any more protests from being heard as Angel devours the soft mouth under his. Xander's frantic movements inflame him further as he twists and turns beneath the heavier, cooler body and with a low growl he captures his arms and pins him to the floor.

Thrill, adrenaline-like rush, and this is well remembered. Flicker of something gleefully perverse as his cock throbs heavily while the boy struggles beneath him. The gone-but-never-lost awe of dominance, and this is warm, this is fucking well *home.*

Nothing but black depths in his eyes when he stops kissing Xander long enough to tell him, "It doesn't matter, none of it matters." Hand at the neckline of Xander's shirt, sharp tug and the material disintegrates. Both hands on the bare torso, spanning the rib cage and he feels the heartbeat racing under his fingertips. Rubbing the soft flesh, fingertips brushing nipples that harden at once and Xander just closes his eyes, head rolling on the carpet.

Angel sits back, unbuttons his shirt with shaking hands, pulls it off. Bare skin to bare skin now when he lays back down on him and he can't keep his hands from wandering everywhere. Cupping the back of Xander's head in one hand, the other brushing down his side, clutch at his hip through the khakis. The whole time he's kissing him with a wet open mouth, over and over until Xander responds. His arms come up, clutch Angel's shoulders and he just...breaks.

"So warm," Angel groans against his mouth and Xander's hips buck in response. The fight has gone out of him, the tension in his body is all strung out sexual need now, and Angel is too far-gone to deny himself the satisfaction. Revels in the submission so easily regained, Xander's attempts to retain his own control making the loss of it that much sweeter. Something to get lost in, to pull around them like a rough woolen blanket that covers and constrains.

Leans back again, gets to his knees straddling him and pops the button on his pants, tugs at the zipper, the waistband, and there's a perfect white 'v' in the open khaki, Xander's hard cock visible through the thin fabric of his boxers. Angel breathes in once, and hears Xander echo it, gasping cry. Slips his fingers into the triangle of white, traces the length there with a light light touch. Tilts his head and observes Xander lying perfectly still, quivering all over, eyes shut tight and hands at his side.

// I'll tell you when you can move, boy // Echo in his head, Angelus taunting him with memories of absolute surrender. Angel himself painfully erect at the sight of the boy's tightly controlled balance between want and need.

Hooks his fingers into the waistband of pants and boxers and tugs them down over hips, moving back as they uncover Xander's thighs, knees and finally his shoes come off along with the pants. No socks and Angel stares at the boy. Naked. Trembling, cock twitching, and flushed from hairline to chest. Leans forward and runs a finger up the line of his leg, across his knee and over to the pale skin of his inner thigh. Xander's legs part obligingly and Angel catches himself wanting to fall on the boy and just bathe in his heat. Drive himself into the tight sheath and let the blood soak them both.

Tiny silver ripples twist on the skin high along Xander's thigh, long healed scars placed there in dominance and ownership. Never mind that the boy had asked for them, they were brands nonetheless. His fingers skate over them and Xander groans. Angel sees a silvery spool of precome leak from his cock and puddle on his belly. Touches him there again, rubbing, and gets a more violent response, another gush of fluid and Xander's voice moaning out his name.

Too much to take, and Angel tears at his own pants, button proving stubborn and being lost in the urgency. Zipper down and pants over his hips and he doesn't care that he's still half dressed. It's just about the sensation of naked skin, hot and sliding under his own cool flesh, the way Xander is so full of need despite his absolute disgust for himself and for Angel. Biting his own lip to keep from calling out, and Angel remembers that was forbidden too at one point. Taken away with everything else when Xander allowed himself to be broken, used, when he let himself be owned by something bigger than he could ever imagine.

Angel nips and sucks at Xander's mouth, traces his swollen lips with his tongue before slipping it inside and tasting him, coffee and chocolate and bittersweetness. His own hard length presses heavily into Xander's belly, slipping in the wetness between them. He gets to his knees, still leaning on one elbow and fists the swollen cock. The boy arches up off the floor at the sudden grip, writhes into the slow pumping movements, eyes still closed and face turned away. Angel nuzzles into the hollow of his shoulder and neck, licks the skin there, flicks his tongue in the crease behind Xander's ear. Encouraged by the whimpering response, he sucks the earlobe into his mouth, bites down gently before releasing it to trace the shell of the ear with the tip of his tongue. His hand keeps up the rhythm and his hips match the pace as he rubs himself against the skin and bone of Xander's hip.

"Need...need to come," Xander gasps out and Angel very nearly joins him. Increases his stroke and the tightness of his grip, waits for him. Waits. And when he sees the look of pained concentration on Xander's face he realizes the depth of memory he's eliciting tonight, feels a surge of near giddiness race through him like fire for the way he's using him again, how deeply the scars have twined into Xander's being.

"Look at me," Angel whispers, and Xander's eyes snap open, find his face. He watches the skin take on a deeper flush at the exposure and says one word, allows him the release.

"Come," and feels the rush of heat on his hand, pearly strands covering belly and chest as Xander hits his climax with a gasp and a low moan. Takes the hand slick with the fluid and begins to stroke himself, coating his cock and wanting, needing to be inside all of the warmth that he came looking for tonight.

Sticky hand on Xander's hip and he flips him over, pulls him up to his knees and presses forward. Slick finger between the boy's legs, seeking and finding the tight entrance and slipping inside, Angel's groan covering the boy's yelp. Another finger in and this time there's a sob from Xander and he hears it clearly. Won't stop what he's doing, too far past the point where it could be halted, and not caring at all. Fingers twisting inside, and he's stretching him as slowly as he can.

Hands and knees spread, trembling all over and head bowed, Xander is the picture of submission. Still aroused, the scent of it sharp and heavy in the air, but there's nothing else there with it. Fear prickles around the edges of the smell, and Angel freezes. Strokes his other hand down the ridges of Xander's spine, feels him shudder, muscles tightening in the involuntary reaction. Pets him as he crooks one knuckle right *there* and feels the boy shiver, whimper, stop himself from crying out. Does it again, and again, hears him gasp, feels him startle at the pressure and the pleasure he cannot make his body stop feeling.

Angel lets his other hands slide around Xander's waist, between his legs, cups the sac there for a minute, soft weight on his palm. Further exploration reveals Xander's arousal again, and that's familiar, too. Slides the probing fingers out and brings both hands down to the rounded ass, spreads him gently, presses his cock slippery with Xander's come against the tight ring of muscle there.

Pushes in, slow measured burning as he enters, all that heat so tight around him. Angel groans, torment and need together in one low vibration, pulls Xander up against him, his back to Angel's chest. One arm across his belly, the other gripping Xander's hip and Angel presses inside of him. The boy's head turns, bares his neck, and Angel seizes it with blunt human teeth. Wants to let the demon free, wonders if he can manage to bring it back again after all this, after having no reason to control it anymore. Holds him still that way as he begins to fuck him, slow thrusts that take him quivering to the edge. Universe narrowed to this room, this body, heat surrounding him and the feeling of control, domination and abandon, of false humanity he finds in the act itself. Wetness on his forearm, and Angel realizes he feels tears there, silent and scalding, falling onto his skin from Xander's face he drops his chin to his chest. Dark wave of something unnamable takes him and Angel!
wraps his hand around Xander's
cock again, cruelly content to find him hard and throbbing as he pushes inside of him faster, rougher than before. Hitching breath and Angel releases his neck, growls at him to come, and he does, jerking his hips and fucking himself into the cool and grasping hand as Angel himself climaxes inside. There's a moment when they're frozen, pressed together and lost to the blackness of orgasm, but it fades too fast. Xander is tense against him and the anger is back now. He drops his forehead to the shoulder before him glistening with sweat and feels the muscles there quiver with the repressed desire to pull away.

Clarity now, unwanted at this particular moment, and he sees what he's done. Who he's become. Thinks of how he was responsible for bringing darkness with him everywhere, everything he touches falling prey to it sooner or later. Buffy too painful to contemplate still, Cordelia and Wesley back in LA, their love for him destroyed by his obsession, damage irreparable as far as he believes. And now Xander. Again. Another strike to add to his record, and how many helpless souls will he need to save for this transgression to be erased, if any of it mattered anymore?

Angel sees how the darkness he brought to Xander's life has roots that go deep. The boy had fought the clinging vines of the addiction, beat them down, and moved on with his life. Until now. Tonight Angel has turned over the soil and brought out the nightblooms, allowed them to have free reign over all the scarred planes of Xander's life.

Realization sets in, and Angel feels himself start to shake. He disengages as gently as he can, soft member slipping out and making them both shudder at the sensation. Drops his hands from the warmth of Xander's body and sits back on his heels.

"Are you done?" Bitter voice full of pain and Angel winces. "Can I get up now?"

"Xander, I'm sorry, I don't know what happened to me tonight." Eyes closed, hand rubbing his face, and he feels so tired, and empty. Picture perfect hindsight, and he sees in this moment where he has gone wrong, traces it back to the source, to Sire and Grandchilde and his first obsession, never quite cured.

Harsh bark of laughter that ends on a sob quickly choked back. "You felt the need for some reminiscing and I just happened to be at the right place at the right time? Should I be flattered that you drove all the way back here to work out your issues?" Xander kneels there still, and Angel puts out a hand, touches him on the shoulder. Draws back when he flinches away.

Standing up, Angel pulls his pants up over sticky skin, bends down to retrieve his shirt and slips it on. Stares down at Xander still kneeling with his head bent. Angel can smell the salt in his tears even though he cannot see them splashing on the pale skin. Walks to the door, and pauses with his hand on the knob.

"You can get up now, Xander."

He's gone before the boy gets to his feet.

=end=
 

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