Previous chapters are here -
http://salustra.livejournal.com/98920.html#cutid1

Sanguine Revival 29/? (Spike/Dawn, Angel/Wes, Adults Only)

AUTHORS: Salustra and Cathelin
E-MAILS: Salustra: goddess_salustra@juno.com ; Cathelin: cathelinn@yahoo.co.uk .
TITLE: Sanguine Revival 29/?
RATING: FRAO, Adults only,
PAIRING: This Chapter- None
SUMMARY: This chapter:- A little look at what happened to Giles and Riley; Dawn plays hooky from school; and Angel and Wes have an interesting 'conversation'
Distribution: Various lists, Wierd Romance Yahoo Group- http://groups.yahoo.com/group/WierdRomance ;
Our livejournals - http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=salustra and http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=cathelin; and the website Weird Romances- http://www.freewebs.com/salustra/wr/index.html .
SPOILERS: Through Season 5 BtVS: Fool For Love, and Season 2 Ats: Darla.
CONTENT: mentions of torture; het sex, slash sex, bdsm, bloodplay.
DISCLAIMER: We adore playing with the pretties, but we’re just having fun. No money made, don’t sue us!
FEEDBACK: Yes please.
Length: 4,770 words

 

Giles stirs a little as the door opens. He only half-opens his eyes. He's pulled deep inside himself, trying to hang onto his sanity through this ordeal. Unlike, he's very much afraid, the soldier strapped down next to him. Riley has been moaning and whimpering for the past few hours. Giles has noticed the beds brought in, and some other preparations going on past his ability to see without his glasses. He's sure the beds aren't for them. They've not even been let up from these bondage frames since they were brought down here. Riley jerks his head up too as the door opens. He starts to breathe faster, panick rising in him. He's not sure how much more he can take of this treatment.

Entering the basement Darla looks around, nodding her approval. "Bring them in." She moves out of the way as two burly minions follow her in, each with a slight limp form over their shoulders. They carry their burdens over to the beds and deposit them. "Gently!" Darla snaps.

"Sorry Mistress." The minions murmer, shuffling a little fearfully.

Lindsey steps in after, settling the figures more comfortably on the bed, pulling covers over them. He starts to secure them with restraints. Collars are locked on their necks, secured by a long chain to the beds. Their hands are secured in restraints connected by short chains to belts. The restraints are medical-grade, lined with neoprene and a fabric layer under that to keep them comfortable. "They're settled, Mistress," he says at last.

"Good." Darla nods. She gestures and her maid Miela steps forward. "I want you to check on them in an hour. See to their needs and then report to me." The quiet girl bobs a curtsy, mumuring her understanding. Darla turn back to Lindsey. "There was no problems with the pick-up?"

"None. It went smoothly. Really, you'd think with everyone else disappearing they'd've been more on guard." Lindsey can't help a little wicked grin.

Riley manages to lift his head and focus on the bed. "Willow? Tara?" He exclaims brokenly.

Giles snaps out of his withdrawn state. Anger fires through him, and he opens his eyes. "You filthy undead whore," he says. "Don't you dare touch them."

"Oooo. Fiesty." Darla says liltingly, turning to look at him. Her eyes glint wickedly as she smiles sweetly. "And who's going to stop me? You?" She shakes her head and laughs merrily.

Giles realizes it's not rational to do this, but he's hoping if he keeps Darla's attention on him, she won't harm the girls. Maybe he can buy some time for Buffy to find them. It's a slender hope, but it's all he can hold onto. "Someone will. You got killed once, you bitch, and you'll get killed again."

"Tell me Watcher." Darla says, slinking closer. "Who do you think is going to do that?"

"Buffy."

"What? Your precious Slayer?" Darla laughs again, the sound tinkling girlishly. "She's too busy falling apart to pose any threat to me."

"Your Sire underestimated her too. And where is he now?" Giles puts all the confidence and venom into his voice that he can manage.

A wave of anger passes over Darla's face before it smoothes out into her expression of mild amusement. "But she didn't manage to kill him without help now did she?" She asks. "And... didn't he kill her first?"

"A mere techincality."

"A technicality which is quite important I would say."

"She was an inexperienced Slayer then. She's gotten a few apocalypses under her belt since that time. She'll take you out."

"You really think so?"

"I do." Giles sets his face into a determined mask.

Lindsey grins and shakes his head. "Damn, you Watchers are a resistant lot. No wonder we've never had any luck getting information out of you."

"Why would you want to get information out of the Watchers?" Darla scoffs. "Their information is practically useless."

Lindsey shrugs. "We've always wanted to get our hands on some potential slayers and test them."

"Ah." Darla nods. "I'm sure the scientists were salivating over at Wolfram and Hart." Darla emphasizes the name of the law firm for Giles' benefit.

Giles makes an almost growling sound in his throat. Then he focuses back on Darla. "How the mighty have fallen. The House of Aurelius allying with *lawyers*?"

Raising her eyebrow, Darla smirks at the attempt at taunting her. "I would rather be an ally of a large power like Wolfram and Hart than an employee of a wannabe power like the Watchers."

Giles hangs onto his anger, using it to cut through the fear. "The Watchers are an ancient and venerable order. And at least it is still intact. While your house consists of what...? You, an insane Drusilla, and a gelded Spike. So much for your mighty order."

"A gelded Spike?" Darla smiles viciously. "Are you sure about that?"

"Yes." Giles lets a similarly vicious smile pass his lips. "Otherwise how would I have tortured him so prettily before he left for Los Angeles?"

Matching Giles' tone, Darla continues smiling. "I really wouldn't remind me of your actions if I were you."

Giles knows the danger he's courting. But he has to keep the girls safe as long as he can. "He makes the loveliest noises when he's being tormented."

Darla growls quietly, moving closer to him. "Don't push me Watcher."

"Do your worst, bitch. Angelus did better."

Grinning, Darla seems to pull a knife out of nowhere. "Yes, but who do you think taught him?"

Giles tries to keep the fear from his eyes as Darla moves in. Riley whimpers and pulls at the bonds, and Lindsey settles down with a chuckle to watch his dark Mistress work.

(Meanwhile, back at Angel's mansion...)

"Pleeeese Spike." Dawn whines, a truly champion whine that tells you she's been trying for a while now. "Pleeeese let me stay home with you." Dropping her school bag, she grabs onto the bannister with both hands, looking down the first few steps to where Spike is looking up at her with amusement. "I don't want to go to school."

Spike chuckles. "Now, now, pet, must maintain a little normalcy." He steps up closer, leaning in to cup her cheek and kiss her. His other wicked hand slides up under her skirt and cups her ass. Moaning, Dawn arches into his hand, submitting to the kiss. "Mmmmm. Good girl." Spike pulls back a little, still stroking her. "You be a good girl and I'll have a treat for you when you get him." He brushes his lips against her lips, then softly on her neck.

"A treat?" She asks as she bares her throat. Loosing the bannister, she runs one hand down his chest to cup his crotch in a clear indication of what she thinks that treat will be.

Spike chuckles. "I see where your mind is, you little minx." He hardens a bit at her touch. Then he swats her lightly on the ass. "Off to school with you."

"You like it when I'm naughty though." She gives him a coy look. "Instead of being a good girl, I could be your bad girl instead?"

Spike grins, lifting her chin with his fingers and nipping lightly at her neck with blunt teeth. "Bad girl it is. *After* school."

Making a pleading sound she rubs him lightly and tries begging again. "Please Spike, I want to stay home and fuck some more. Please fuck me." Over the last week or so, Dawn has found she really enjoys talking dirty. "You could pound into me right here?" She wheedles, tapping the bannister, "Don't you want to bend me over and screw me right here where Angel or Wesley can find us?" Her language is totally at odds with her apprearence - denim skirt embroidered with flowers, soft pink shirt, and a long braid over each shoulder.

Spike growls softly and leans in again. It's really hard for him to try and keep discipline on her, Especially since he'd really rather do exactly what she's suggesting. She's been learning how to tease him, tempt him. He's fully hardened now at her touch and her naughty words. "My, my, what a bad little girl you've turned into."

"Your bad little girl." She answers breathily, leaning into him in turn. "Your little...slut." She rubs him again, more firmly this time. "Fuck me Spike, let me show you just what a slut I am for you."

Spike groans and kisses her fiercely. He cups the back of her neck with one hand. "Now I see why I used to drive Angel spare." He can smell her arousal, feel her nipples harden under the soft shirt. "Always teasing him, begging for attention."

Dawn whimpers and shamelessly rubs against him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Want you." She moans. "Always want you. Always touching me, fucking me. Please Spike, fuck me hard, let me suck your cock. Please."

Spike can feel his resolve weakening to send her off. His hand slides up under her shirt and cups her breast. "Bad, bad girl. It seems I am going to have to punish you properly." He grins wickedly and kisses her again.

Moaning again, deep in her throat, Dawn pushes her breast into his hand. Tilting her head, she opens her mouth to suck hungrily on his tongue. Spike responds to her hungry kiss, taking in the feel of her sweet body against his, her supple breast against his hand. He moves his hands down, bending a bit, grabbing under each thigh and lifting her. "Going to take you back to my room I think."

Wrapping her legs around his waist, Dawn shivers at the heated look in his eyes. "Oh yes, please."

Turning over completely onto his stomach, Angel presses his face more harshly into the pillow. His cock has been hard for hours listening to Spike 'getting Dawn ready for school', and he can see no relief in sight.

Spike pushes up her shirt, his hands stroking over her soft skin, his hands finding her breasts. His thumbs work in circles over her hardening nipples. She's so responsive to him, so eager. His tongue is thrusting hard now into her, his own cock pulsing with need but he wants to taste her first.

"Spike. Yes. Spike." Dawn starts to chant. "Fuck me. Spike. Yours. Fuck me. Spike."

Spike growls and pushes up from the floor, lifting Dawn and placing her more squarely on the bed. It only takes a minute to skim out of his jeans and t-shirt. Dawn's panties don't survive as Spike rips them off easily. He lifts her hips with his hands, pulling her to him as he kneels on the mattress. He plunges into her, pulling her onto him, rocking his hips to bury deep inside her.

"SPIKE!!!!" Dawn shrieks at the sudden and deep penetration.

"Oh god," groans Angel. "Here we go again."

Wesley has been awake, puttering in the upstairs study. The suddened impassioned cry makes him jump. He isn't entirely sure he wants to know what Spike is doing to make her cry out like that. He's been much too aware of her loveliness and youth and her obviously awakened sexuality as it is. Not that he can blame her. If someone like Spike had paid him attention at that age he'd have been just as wanton as she is now.

Spike gathers Dawn onto his lap as he remains on his knees, thrusting hard into her. "My sweet slutty girl," he murmurs.

Placing her feet on the mattress on either side of his hips and bracing her hands against the headboard, Dawn pushes back hard into his thrusts. "Your slut." Spike groans and buries his face against her neck, kissing and licking the tender skin, smelling and hearing the hot pulse of her blood underneath the pale skin. Arching her head back and sideways, Dawn moans loudly. "Oh please." She gasps. This wasn't the first time she'd offered her neck to him, but maybe, just maybe, this time he'd bite her. "Please."

Spike growls, his eyes sliding amber, his face crackling as it shifts. She tempts him regularly like this. It takes all his willpower to just scrape the fangs lightly over her skin. The pleasure drug drips into the thin cuts as her blood wells up in small droplets. He licks them, tasting her in a completely different way. His growl becomes feral.

"PleasePleasePlease." Dawn's whole body arches closer, her thighs trembling as she tries to keep her hips raised.

Spike growls again, moving one hand to grip in her hair, fangs gingerly pressing on her skin. He wants to bite her so much, but he's unsure if he could really control himself if he did. The very clear threat of the bite is enough to make her come and Dawn shrieks his name again, her body tightening in orgasm. Spike howls, lifting his head from her throat, feeling her tighten on him. He keeps thrusting, letting her ride her climax all the way, then he eases her back onto the bed. He's still hard with want but he's not sure he can trust himself right now.

"More." She gasps, wrapping her legs around his hips, pushing against him even as her body still tingles from her climax.

"God you are insatiable." He kisses her shoulder, his hard cock still buried inside her.

"You love me that way." Dawn giggles, dragging her nails down his back.

"I do." Spike captures her lips, kissing hard. "I love you just this way."

In the next room, the sound of Dawn's giggling moan tells Angel that it's the end of the brief pause in their 'fun'. In desperation, he gets up to go downstairs - maybe being further away from them might give him some kind of reprieve. He hopes. Once downstairs, Angel takes refuge in his study, making a valiant effort at trying to read the paper.

Wesley picks up his cup of tea, heading into the study, intending to try to do some research. He's managed to block out most of the sounds from upstairs. Dawn is so.... young. But then again, he was doing fairly sexual things at that age. He blushes a little, recalling his experiences at school. He's lost enough in thought that he doesn't really see Angel as he moves in and sits at the desk. Shuffling his paper, Angel crosses his legs, wishing that *he'd* taken the desk before Wes arrived.

Wes looks up, startled. "Ah, Angel." He clears his throat, coloring more. "I didn't see you."

"No problem." Angel smiles weakly, dropping his paper into his lap. "So...er... busy day planned?"

Wes shifts a bit in his seat. "Just doing some research. Trying to get a more powerful location spell to find our missing, um, colleagues."

"I see. Any luck at all?" Truthfully, Angel isn't all that bothered about finding either Giles or Riley, and from what he'd heard happened, he suspects that Anya has returned to Arash'mahar and taken Xander with her.

Wes pushes up his glasses, rubbing his finger along the bridge of his nose. "Not really. The more powerful spells are rather arcane, and I'm not even sure the materials are obtainable. But I'm still researching." Wes fidgets a bit more as a particularly loud feminine moan comes from upstairs.

Angel winces at the sound. "Um. I'm sorry you have to deal with listening to...um..." Angel runs his hand through his hair uncomfortably.

Wes coughs and looks down at the cup of tea. "Well, yes. They do seem... energetic." He fights the urge to adjust himself under the desk.

"That's one way to put it." Angel remarks dryly. Sighing, he drops his head back against the seat. "I suppose you'll be glad when we head back to LA?"

"I do feel very out of place here, yes. Though there have been several developments here I'm not entirely unhappy with." Wes is now intensely aware of Angel, his arousal getting stronger. The change in their interaction made it hard to maintain his former barriers about this when around Angel.

"O...oh?" Angel coughs and tries again. "Oh?"

"Yes." Wes looks at his hands, knowing he can't possibly say anything looking at Angel. "Such as, well, um, what you and I have been doing."

Biting his lip, Angel finds himelf looking anywhere but at Wesley. "About that...er...well." He can feel himself flushing as dark as his vampire circulation allows, as he clears his throat again. "I mean..." His stuttering is interrupted by the doorbell.

Wes is startled again by the doorbell. He uses the excuse, though, to stand and move to get the door. There is a small package lying on the doorstep. He picks it up, looking at it. "Odd. No proper address. Just your name, Angel."

Angel's attention is suddenly riveted on the package as Wesley walks back into the room. "Oh Gods no..." He whines.

"Another package from Darla?"

"I have a horrible feeling it is." Angel holds his hand out to take it reluctantly. Every time he thinks that things can't get any worse, one of Darla's awful little presents turns up.

Wes steps in to hand the package to Angel. "You could just leave it unopened."

"But then the bitch would only call me." Angel shrugs fatalistically. "So I may as well see what she's send this time." Without thinking, Angel drops the claws on his right hand and uses the thumb nail to slit open the tape.

Wes looks at Angel. The casual use of his vampire powers was something new. Was all this just the reaction to Darla's prodding? He looks inside the box as Angel opened it. There is a study leather paddle with a note attached to the handle.

As the scents in the box hit him, Angel closes his eyes and growls. Over the smell of high quality, oiled leather, he can smell Darla and Lindsey, or more accurately, the scent of them and sex.

Wes instinctively takes a step back at the growl. "What's the matter?"

"Lindsay fucking MacDonald. What else?" Angel snarls, unaware that as the side of his lip rises, it reveals one pearly white, *sharp*, fang.

Wes shifts a bit from foot to foot. Having Angel act in real life the way he'd fantasized about is both exciting and a little frightening. He really should be more wary of enjoying Angel's newfound boundaries but he couldn't help it.

Picking up the note, Angel holds it gingerly between thumb and forefinger, glaring at it.

"What does it say?"

"I dread to think." With another beleagured sigh, Angel unfolds and reads it. He starts to growl again before it suddenly cuts off and he starts to splutter.

Wes can't help it, he looks at the note. It reads, 'I think that pretty little Watcher of yours could use a paddling. I warmed this up for you, darling.' Wes coughs and has to suppress a little whimper. He doesn't suppress it enough though. Angel suddenly stills and Wesley finds himself pinned by Angel's dark eyes. Wesley looks at Angel. He then drops his eyes. He can feel his pulse thudding, can feel himself hard inside his trousers. He knows he should say something, do something, but he can't.

"Wes?" Angel asks, voice low. "What was it you were saying before?"

"That I was enjoying the, um, way we were interacting here." Wes' voice is a hoarse whisper.

"Is that so?" Angel watches the other man as he drops the note back into the box and strokes one finger over the paddle.

Wesley nods again. Without thinking, his arms move position, his hands resting almost clasping at the small of his back. "Yes." He clears his throat. "I've had, um, thoughts about something like this. For a long time."

"Is that so?" Angel asks again, continuing to caress the oiled leather. His mien changes ever so slightly, so that he suddenly seems larger, more powerful in his chair.

This time the ex-Watcher is unable to suppress a soft moan. "Yes." He fidgets, getting much harder as his eyes watch Angel's fingers on the paddle.

"What *exactly* have you been thinking about Wesley?" Angel asks, with the tiniest growl in his voice.

Wesley shivers. "Do I really have to say?"

"Yes, you do."

It feels so strange to Wes, so unnatural, to have to voice his desires. To speak about all those perverse little dreams he'd stroke himself to alone in his apartment. "I..." He stutters. "I used to think about you taking me. Forcefully. All sorts of ways."

"Really? How interesting." There's a wicked glint in his eye as Angel watches Wes fidget and flush. "Go on."

Wesley groans at Angel's words. "And, well..." He looks at the floor. "About you biting me." That was a big taboo for Watchers. Fantasizing about the sexy powers of vamps was never a good idea. He squirms, hoping Angel won't keep pushing.

No such luck though, "Biting you?" Angel raises his eyebrows at that, before the narrow contemplatively, "Biting you how? Where?"

"Angel, please..."

"Tell me." Angel insists.

Wes looks up at Angel, then quickly down again. "I've had many fantasies. I shouldn't. You're a vampire, and I used to be a Watcher." He groans again. "I read up on you before I came to Sunndydale."

"Did you indeed?" Angel smirks wickedly, "And what did all those oh-so-proper Watcher books tell you about me Wesley?"

"Some of them are not so proper." Wesley coughs. "I used father's access to see some of the private collection."

"That was very..." Angel his drums fingers against the side of the box, "...naughty of you." And then against the paddle.

Wesley whimpers. "Yes." His hands now clasp. firmly, behind his back. "There were some rather descriptive accounts about you and your relationships. For instance, with Spike. And with Penn. And some specualtion as to your tastes."

"My tastes?" Angel chuckles. "Surely such speculation wasn't really needed for the chronicles?"

"Well a Watcher was moved to different assignments after you, I mean Angelus, noticed him and propositioned him at a ball."

Laughing lightly, Angel finally lifts the paddle out and setting the box aside. "I see."

Wesley whimpers again. "Yes." Wesley avoided voicing the type the chronicles had hinted at. Blue-eyed, brown-haired, slender. With glasses. Or the fantasies that had assualted him from the moment he read that pasage.

"And how did reading those things make you feel?"

Wesley feels naked under Angel's stady gaze. He wriggles again, not wanting to have to say these things. Not wanting to admit to all the dark desires he'd so ruthlessly suppressed and chained all these years. "I felt it would be very dangerous to get too close to you." He looks up, then back down again.

"And yet..." Angel says quietly, his voice dark, "Isn't that exactly what you've done?"

"Yes. I thought I had enough self-control, enough restaint. And, of course, I knew about the curse. I thought it was safe. Safe enough."

"Safe? Safe from what?" Angel rubs the paddle over the palm of his other hand. "Safe from me fucking you? Killing you? What?"

"Yes. From all of it." Wesley closes his eyes. "From everything that was in those pages. The pain and the pleasure and the whole lure of it."

"The *lure* of it?" Angel asks, his voice coming not from the chair, but right next to Wes' ear.

Wesley groans. "Yes." His body is tense, he holds himself tightly. He feels like he's being stripped bare. "There was a sketch in there. Spike, bound, bent like a bow. Expression of painful bliss. And a gloved fist in his hair."

Angel growls angrily at that, the thought of some horrible stuck up Watcher seeing his William submitting like that. His growl escalates as he remembers that *he* never wore gloves. "Darla." He spits out a name as if its another word for 'Bitch'.

Wesley flinches a bit at the tone. "I always thought it was your hand."

"No." Angel bites out. "I never wore gloves, not even outside, I liked to shock the upper classes with some small rebellions." He smirks nastily. "Made it easier to hide other things." His demon is clamouring against the bars of the soul-cage. It would have been bad enough if it *had* been him in the sketch, but that it was Darla... As much as he had always hated it and chaffed against it, the truth of the matter was that Darla had ruled their little family, and iron hand in dainty silk and lace gloves. But that was knowledge only held by their family, to the outside world it appeared that Angelus was in charge, as it should have been in the societies of that time. The fact that someone had seen his Sire and his Childe in what must have been a private moment... Well, suffice to say that it was a good job for the Watcher that he was long dead. "Tell me Wesley." Angel growls. "Who was it who was spying on them?"

Wesley looks up, confused. "It was one of yours....Angelus', I mean. There was a sketch pad among some effects you apparently had to abandon at some point. The sketch was one of those in there."

"And what did you think Wesley? Looking at a drawing of my boy, submitting so prettily to my sire? Knowing that I had drawn him like that? Hmm?" Angel draws the tip of one fingertip along Wesley's jaw. "Did it make you wish you had been there to watch?" His eyes are flecked with amber as he stares into Wesley's wide eyes. "Or perhaps...perhaps you wish it was you that I was drawing?"

Wesley shudders hard at the feel of Angel's fingertip. That was it, of course, exactly what he'd imagined all these years. "Yes. I wish it was me."

Leaning back, Angel smiles wickedly. "I see." Stepping back slightly, Angel moves around the slighter man to stand behind him, one hand coming to rest on his joined hands. Wesley groans and drops his head forward. This is so dangerous, he knows. Each step forward along this path is sheer madness. The closer he gets to the forbidden dreams he's held tight all these years, the closer he is to losing himself, or at least the idea of himself he's lived with for so long.
"Do you know what Darla told me?" Angel asks, almost conversationally.

"What did she tell you?" Wes asks automatically, not sure he wants to know the answer.

"That she was actually training Lindsey as a Pet, not for herself...but for me."

"For you?" Wesley blinks.

"Mmhmm." Angel hums. "For me. Because she knows that he's just my type. Fair, blue-eyed, and gagging for my cock. Like Penn. Like Spike." He pauses to lean in, his cool breath fanning over Wes' neck. "Like you."

A soft whimper comes from Wes. The truth of the statement is evident in Wes' still hard cock. No sense in denying it. "Yes." He shivers. "I can't help it."

"Naughty boy." Angel purrs. "That's what my William used to say. That he couldn't help being bad." Angel walks back around to face him. "I used to have to punish him when he was bad." Using the paddle, Angel lifts Wesley's chin up until their eyes meet. "Am I going to have to punish you for being naughty Wesley?"

The purr sends a hard shiver through Wesley's body. "Oh, god, Angel..."

"He used to say that too." Angel smirks.

"You know I can't say no to anything right now." Wesley looks at Angel. "You know right now I'd agree to anything you asked."

"I do." Angel nods slowly, solemnly, then smirks. "Strip."

Wesley begins unbuttoning his shirt, hands fumbling with the buttons. He manages to get it off and toss it aside, then he skims out of his trousers. He's shaking by the time he gets the last bit of clothing off, standing naked in the cool air of the study.

"That was quick." Angel comments, still smirking. "Eager are we?"

"You just like making me say it." Wesley shifts uncomfortably. "Yes."

"Let's see if you're still eager for punishment once it begins." Angel's eyes glitter as he pats the paddle lighty against his other hand. "Bend over the desk."

Wesley steps back over to the desk, pushing aside his piles of papers, stretching over the smooth polished dark wood. This is all eerily familiar and so very surreal, the stuff of late-night fancies made real.



((Author's note: This is unfortunately the end of what Cathelin and I had written together. Hopefully she'll be available soon for us to continue this story...))