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Spectator Sport
*1873*
He was outside, smoking a cigarette. That was the only reason he was out here. After all, he had wanted a cigarette, hadn't he? And Angelus forbade him to smoke in the house. It wasn't as if he was hiding.
It certainly wasn't as if he was hiding from his own sire.
Angelus' mocking lilt rang from inside. "Will," he called, "why don't you come inside?"
Leaning back against the side of the house, he closed his eyes and let out a nervous sigh, trying to collect his composure. "Not now, mate," he replied in what he hoped was a calm and careless voice. "I'm havin' a smoke."
Angelus called again, his voice more falsely bright, more charmingly insistent than before. "Will, you should come back in. It's cold out there."
"I'm all right." ((Jesus, Angelus, not tonight. Just let it go.))
Dropping the charade, Angelus gave his fledgling anorder, his voice calm but weighted with unmistakable authority. "Come inside, William."
((Fuck.)) Will turned slightly so that he stood just inside the doorway and leaned against the frame, trying to make himself look as small and inconspicuous as possible.
"And put that disgusting thing out."
Will rolled his eyes and tossed his smoldering
cigarette into a nearby mud puddle. ((What was it he
promised when he turned me? Unlimited power, freedom from
the whims of others, a life lived according to my own
rules? Some bollocks like that.)) He peeled off his
overcoat, dampened by the evening fog, and tossed it over a
chair. He was quickly checked by a slap on
the cheek.
"Hang your coat up, Will."
He narrowed his eyes, glared at his Sire, and affected a childlike sulk. "Yeah, fine." He pulled the coat off the chair and hung it from the peg near the door, taking all the time in the world to do so.
"Don't get insolent with me, boy. Now, come along." Angelus led his petulant Childe to the first bedroom, the one he kept for *her.* The girl. Drusilla.
He raised his eyes hesitantly to the bed. She was there, already naked, chained, gazing at him with huge, imploring eyes. He looked away. "What do you want?" he growled, his voice tight.
Angelus chuckled and took him jovially by the shoulder. "I don't want you to *do* anything, my dear boy," he said cheerfully. "I just want you to watch."
Will quirked an eyebrow at his Sire. He had stood outside the house and listened to them shag a dozen times since Angelus had turned him a month before. He had heard her cry, moan, scream in pain and in pleasure. He had heard the crack of whips and the dripping of blood and that fuck-all ridiculous grunting noise his Sire made when he climaxed. And although he was loathe to admit it, the entire auditory experience made him distinctly uncomfortable.
He had spent his entire life fucking or hurting one person or another. Granted, he had never been given to combining the two, but that was no reason to get all Puritanical now that he was a demon. The night Angelus turned him he had fucked and drained his way through three whorehouses without a qualm and there was no goddamned reason why he should be getting all upset about anything Angelus did with that girl, that girl who was, after all, his creation, his Childe, therefore giving him complete rights to anything he sodding well wanted to do with her and what the hell did it have to do with him anyway? Just because she had wide eyes and soft hair and her voice sounded like broken silver bells when she laughed and was no reason for him to go intruding on his Sire's business. So sometimes she looked up at him with that expression like a wicked little child he felt like all his insides were melting away and sometimes when she stayed up all day screaming at imaginary nightmares he couldn't sleep either for worrying about her. Hang her up on iron hooks and use her for target practice for all he cared, it didn't make any difference to him, he was a fucking *vampire.*
"Angelus," Will said uncomfortably, "this... it has nothing to do with me."
((You fucking coward.))
((What? What else can you do? What else can you possibly do?))
"So why don't you just- just go ahead and enjoy yourself, and I'm gonna go get a bite to eat that I'll see you in the morning, all right?"
He fell silent and waited for his sire to give him an outright order. But Angelus was in a playful mood tonight. "All right," he said cheerfully, "off you go."
Will raised his eyebrows in surprise and turned to leave. "Of course," Angelus called out after him, "maybe you should stick around to keep me in check."
The younger vampire stopped short and stiffened in horror. He turned and faced his sire, who gave him a merry grin. "You know, to make sure I don't go too far."
So he might go too far. So what? He shouldn't care. He didn't want to care. He was ashamed of how sodding well much he cared.
But he cared all the same.
Without another word Will crossed the room and sat down dutifully in the velveteen chair that faced the bed. It had been placed there precisely for this purpose.
((House seats. Aren't I a lucky sodding bastard.))
He shifted uneasily in the chair, waiting for the show to begin. ((Why the hell is he doing this? Why would he want me to watch them, for fuck's sake? Does he know how I feel about her?))
((How, exactly, do I feel about her and why the hell can't I make myself bloody *stop*?))
He watched nervously as his Sire reached into
the drawer of the bedside table where the manacles that now
fastened Drusilla to the bed were kept, withdrawing the drawer's
other tenant: a battered, well-used set of cat o' nine tails, the
leather ends
still encrusted in blood from Drusilla's last session with her
Sire.
Angelus was too smart to break her quickly; he would have lost his interest in her years ago otherwise. He had acclimated her to pain slowly over the years: teeth, fists, dripping wax, hot brands, shards of glass. Most of these no longer had any effect. But the cat o' nine tails, with its thin, biting strips of leather adorned with broken bits of glass and sharp, jagged pieces of metal, was still enough to make her scream. He crouched over her, a large, looming gargoyle in living dead flesh, amusement and savagery behind a placid expression, and dangled the cat o' nine tails over her playfully, the sharper ends scraping shallow cuts in her face. Her lips trembled but she did not cry.
He raised the whip slowly, deliberately, and brought it down upon her flesh with brutal violence, slicing into her. Cuts opened in her skin and her blood began to seep into the bedclothes. Two strokes. Three. She cried out in pain and fear, her lithe body arching against her restraints.
Unnerved, the younger vampire glanced away, only to feel sudden pain as the whip came down across his lap with devastating speed, marking his trousers with her blood. He yelped in pain and surprise, looking up at his Sire.
"Pay attention, Will," Angelus snarled, raising the whip again.
((Don't just sit there. Do something.))
((What? What can you possibly do? Shut up, Will.))
((Make him stop.))
((Can't. Sorry Dru there's nothing I can do... God, you're so beautiful.))
The worst part of it wasn't seeing her get hurt, hearing her scream. It was pretty damn bad but it wasn't the worst. The worst was that some small part of him got off on it, enjoyed it. She was miserable, yes, she was screaming. She was in pain. But, dear sweet merciful fucking God, she was also naked. The mere sight of her was enough to make him stiffen against his will. It was the cruelest, most exquisite torture imaginable and that's why Angelus did it. Dru wasn't the one being punished this time.
((I wonder what I did to deserve this? Does it matter?))
Angelus stood up suddenly, tossing the cat o'nine tails aside, and undid his collar. He stripped himself of his clothes quickly, leaving bloody fingerprints all over his immaculate white shirt. Waistcoat, shirt, and trousers soon lay discarded on the floor by Will's feet. He knew what was coming next; Angelus had a system. Beat her, fuck her, beat her some more.
He bent his hulking form over her slight one,
digging his fingertips into the cuts in her skin, encouraging the
flow of blood. His tongue quickly removed every trace of it
from her skin, only to be replaced by fresh flow as his mouth
left in its wake a quick
succession of small bites. One hand reached up to grab her
by the hair and jerk her head back, exposing her throat to be
sliced open by razor-sharp teeth as he entered her with a violent
thrust. She cried out, once, in agony... Will hoped it was
agony.
He was pounding into her as hard as he could, grunting with pleasure. The screams had stopped; she turned her head to the side to look at Will. She gazed at him, her eyes liquid and huge, begging him to make it stop. He simply stared back, never taking his eyes from hers. It was all he could do. There was so much blood, blood everywhere, soaking the sheets, splattered against the thin net canopies draped around the bed, blood splashed in haphazard patterns across her perfect white skin. He couldn't look anymore; he only looked into her eyes, the unspoken communication passing between them.
((Sorry so sorry nothing I can do))
Angelus looked up at them, at their respective fixed gazes, and frowned. He began to slow his pace, easing the violence of his motions, covering the healing bites with gentler kisses. The shame and fear in her eyes slowly faded away as Angelus continued to pleasure her with his mouth.
Will watched in horror as the expression on her face began to change from pain to pleasure. This hadn't happened at first, but the passing months were clearly taking their toll on her sanity and sensibilities. She was beginning to enjoy Angelus' special brand of attention.
Angel continued to pump into her; she began to whimper and, then, to moan. The elder vampire leaned down towards her ear. "Tell us what you're thinking, Drusilla," he whispered, turning to Will with a malevolent smile.
"My Angel," she murmured, throwing her head back, her dark eyes mere slits. He gave another thrust with his hips and she gasped in delighted agony.
He could watch her suffer at his sire's hands if he had to, but he could not watch her enjoy it. It was more than he could bear. He closed his eyes tightly and averted his gaze.
Angelus reached out and grasped Will's chin, pulling his face back in the direction of the bed. Drusilla's blood left a smear of dirty fingerprints on Will's pale skin.
"Pay attention, Will," he growled. "You don't want to miss anything."
"Fuck you, Angelus," he snarled in reply. His sire only smiled.
"You love your Angel, don't you, Drusilla?" he continued doggedly, never taking his eyes off his childe. Will stared back with undisguised hatred.
"Mmm-hmmm."
"And you'll never leave your Angel, will you, Dru?"
"Never, never. Mmmm..."
"Not for anyone?" he pressed, his eyes issuing a challenge that only Will understood.
"No one. No one but my Angel."
He leapt back, withdrawing from her suddenly, and she emitted a faint moan of protest. He picked up the whip again and Will flinched. As her moans of pleasure once again became screams of pain, Angelus turned to his youngest childe with a wicked grin.
"You see, Will?" he said. "No one but her Angel."
*-*-*-*
