SUMMARY: Xander & Angelus Slash. First of a short series - it's PWP, but there will be a plot eventually. No, really.
SPOILERS: Not much, but it's Late Season 2 (but set before "Passion")
CONTENT/WARNINGS:
RATING: NC17. It's gay vampire porn, for crying out loud.
DISCLAIMER: I am not now, nor have I ever been, Joss Whedon. The boys aren't mind. Don't sue.
NOTES: Thanks to Katie for Beta-ing!
 
 
Xander slid slowly into consciousness. His head ached. Boy, did his head ever ache - if he were in a
cartoon there would be stars circling his head. Or maybe little tweeting birds. He remembered being in the
library and - no, leaving the library and starting to head home and then·then hadn't there been a sound
behind him, and then. . .nothing. Hmm.
 
He blinked a couple of times, trying to assemble his thoughts into something approaching sense. It was
dark. His head hurt. (Note to self - try not to get bashed on the head quite so often.) And he was. .
.where?
 
His questing hand found a light and fumbled for the switch.
 
A bedroom. He was lying on a bed in a bedroom. So far so unremarkable. Not his bedroom, though. Not
Will's either, or (chance would be a fine thing!) Buffy's. He peered blankly around at frilly floral curtains,
pastel flock wallpaper, a spectacularly hideous print of a kitten frolicking with a puppy. . .where the hell?
"Gee, I guess we aren't in Kansas anymore," he breathed, puzzled.
 
"Give the boy a gold star," came an amused and horribly familiar voice from the doorway. Xander froze.
"Although I never had you pegged for Dorothy. Toto, maybe."
 
Angelus.
 
Oh, great, Angelus. Nice going, Xander - you've really excelled yourself this time. Alone in wherever the
hell this is with The Scourge of Europe. From sidekick to snackfood in one easy step.
 
The vampire was poised on the threshold, half hidden in shadows. How did he always manage to be half in
shadow, all mysterious and alluring and broody? That whole man of mystery routine was so OLD - but
Buffy fell for it every time. *Had* fallen, that is - past tense. Had fallen for it every time before Angel came
off the wagon so spectacularly·
 
Oh crap·
 
"Love what you've done with the place, man," Xander croaked, scrambling off the bed and scanning the
room for some sort of weaponry. Damn, his head hurt.
 
"Somehow I'd have had you down as more of a dank dungeon dŽcor kinda guy, something with a nice
chain and manacle motif, maybe. Or something a bit more, you know, Bat Cave. But this works."
 
Flowery curtains, check. Cheesy picture, check. Stakes, axes, holy water, crosses - all notable by their
absence. Damn it! Angelus stepped a little closer.
 
"What can I tell you, Xander? Old Mrs Moore had lousy taste. And the self preservation instincts of a
week-old bunny rabbit. Didn't know better than to invite a strange man into her house to use the phone
when he told her he'd been mugged -not a mistake she'll be making again in this reality."
 
Angelus wiped an imaginary speck of blood from the corner of his mouth and delicately licked his fingers
clean. "I picked the place for its nice, secluded location rather than for the dŽcor. I didn't want to be
interrupted."
 
Oh CRAP.
 
"You probably think you've got me just where you want me, but what you don't realise is that Buffy and,
and Giles are on their way here armed to the teeth with stakes and crosses and holy water RIGHT NOW
because I'm just the bait in their cunning trap and boy you really aren't buying a single word of this are
you?"
 
The bed separated them. Xander tried to keep one eye on Angelus whilst frantically scanning the room for
any kind of makeshift weaponry. Nothing. Big fat nothing. The room was about as helpful as, as a damned
unhelpful thing, on international unhelpful day.
 
"Armed to the teeth, you say? How very frightening."
 
Angelus stepped closer, smiling a thoroughly unpleasant smile. It occurred to Xander belatedly that
"teeth" might not have been a fortuitous choice of words, under the circumstances. It also struck him that
he hadn't been tied up. That's how much of a threat Angelus considered him - he didn't even think he
needed to tie him up. Great. He was Toto.
 
And then before he knew it, Angelus was around the bed and standing right in front of him. Smiling. God
DAMN he could move fast. Xander's heart was hammering and he wondered whether the vampire could
hear it too. Could smell the blood pumping through his veins.(OK, not much liking that train of thought,
Xander.)
 
What the hell - nothing ventured, nothing gained. Xander threw everything he had into a quick, violent
punch calculated to take the vamp by surprise and allow him to make a break for the door. . .which
Angelus deflected with embarrassing ease. Xander found himself locked in a chilly & unyielding grip, his
arms twisted up behind his back and the front of Angelus's long, lean body pressed up behind his.
 
Not quite the dazzling display of manly strength he'd been aiming for, it had to be said. Xander shivered,
suddenly acutely aware of his exposed neck and the proximity of the vampire's fangs.
 
"So, uh, I can't help but notice that I'm alive. Not that I'm complaining about it, gosh no, but, er, it does
kind of beg the question - why? So I'm guessing you need me for something, right? Can't kill me
because I'm important to your evil scheme somehow?"
 
There was an edge of desperation in Xander's voice despite his best efforts to sound unfazed. He was in
real trouble this time and he knew it. Hell, HE didn't even know where this old lady's house was and he
was *in* it, so there wasn't an awful lot of hope that Buffy did.
 
Angelus's mouth was so close that his breath would have tickled Xander's ear if he'd been breathing. He
felt the vampire's body quiver against his and for an instant dared to hope - with an utter disregard for
logic - that it was from fear. A moment later a lilt of laughter in the voice put paid to any such notion:
 
"Wrong, Xander Harris. I just like playing with my food."

At that a jolt of panic went through him and Xander went from being The Amazing Frozen Guy to The
Amazing Struggling Guy.
 
"Oh yeah, do it again baby," mocked Angelus delightedly, circling his hips and rubbing up against him.
"Harder!" (Well, OK, * that's * new) thought Xander, mid-struggle. Just when he thought the evening
could not possibly get any freakier a whole new world of Disturbing Possibilities opened up.
 
And it turned out he had never really taken on board quite how strong Angel was, because he might as
well have been fighting a lump of granite. After a moment Angelus twisted the boy's arms further and at
that he let out an involuntary cry and grew still.
 
"You won't get away with this, you know," Xander snarled helplessly. //Oh, yeah, *very* smooth, Xander.
That didn't sound like the last words of a bimbo in a horror film, no sir.// Again he felt Angelus rocking
with silent laughter.
 
"Oh, now, really - could you possibly BE any more predictable? Of course I'll get away with this. The
question is whether I kill you now, or just play with you a little. And then kill you later. Psychological
torture can be as much fun as physical torture, in some ways - letting the fear grow exquisitely, pulling a
mind slowly apart at the seams before, well, pulling the body apart at the seams. It's so much more
satisfying than a quick kill. Just ask Dru. You should have seen her before I drank everyone she loved,
drove her mad, drained her veins and let a demon take possession of her body - she was quite the sweet
little posterchild for sanity."
 
"Terrific, the terrifying threat portion of the evening. You might want to throw in a big old maniacal laugh
whilst you're at it, Doctor Frankenfurter." said Xander with a bravado he really didn't feel. "But we both
know that Buffy is going to kick your fiendish butt from here to Anchorage, deadboy. And by the way,
since we're having this little chat I've been meaning to ask - do they hand out black leather accessories
at some sort of Evil Wallmart, or something? I mean, * really *, what is the deal with this? One pair of
Acme Bad Guy Leather Pants free when you go over to the dark side of the Force? Because when
Buffy's finished staking you all you're going to be wearing is the latest Dustbuster, pal."
 
And considering that the part of Xander's brain in charge of speech just wanted him to shout "Please
don't eat me! Please don't eat me! Please don't eat me!", that hadn't sounded too bad.
 
"You know, you talk too much," Angelus whispered silkily, a hair's breadth from Xander's ear, and any
other words stilled in his throat. This really did not look good. He closed his eyes, straining pointlessly to
get away from the vampire and hoping against hope that Buffy and Giles and a crack squad of marines
would burst through the door and save him.
 
Keeping one hand pinioned around Xander's wrist, twisting the arm up behind his back, Angelus seized
the boy's hair in his other hand and jerked his head to the right, exposing the long line of his throat. He
snuggled his face into Xander's broad shoulder in an almost kittenish movement and then let the human
mask fall away.
 
Xander felt the cool flesh change shape against him and shivered uncontrollably. OK, this would *really*
be a good moment for the cavalry to burst in, because Xander's Bumper Book of Cunning Ways to Avoid
Death by Vampire didn't seem to have a chapter covering this situation.
 
Angelus savoured the moment, resting his teeth lightly on the exposed neck for an instant without
penetrating the skin. He felt Xander's pulse pounding wildly. Perversely, he moved a hair's breadth further
away and with one firm motion he drew his cool tongue along the warm flesh, swirling moist patterns onto
the unbroken skin. He felt Xander's body freeze in shock beneath him and, laughing delightedly, sank his
teeth into the neck and *sucked*.
 
Felt the sudden rush of terror flooding the boy in his arms as all the barriers began to crumble and he
understood that this was real after all and *nobody* would be saving him. Children never really believed
they were mortal until they found themselves a few heartbeats away from death. Angelus loved that
moment of clarity, the moment when their pathetic illusions fell away and they saw the only truth was
predator and prey.
 
After one long, incredulous moment Xander began to struggle desperately in Angelus's grasp. He felt the
muscles of the vampire's face move against his skin, bunching out into a smile as his own movement tore
the wound in his throat wider. Blood trickled down his neck and under his shirt. He felt himself begin to
weaken as the blood was drawn out of his body.
 
Cold lips pulling away from his throat, teeth withdrawing. Tongue laving the wound.
 
Angelus let go of his hair and allowed one hand to travel languidly down the front of Xander's torso, tracing
patterns through the fabric of his shirt, circling his right nipple idly before sweeping lower to stroke
Xander's belly and then come to rest gently - *gently!* - cupping his groin.
 
And somehow all the blood Angelus hadn't sucked out of him seemed to be concentrated in Xander
Junior, hardening humiliatingly against the vampire's hand.
 
Delicately, cat-like, Angelus licked Xander's throat. "Why Xander, is that a stake in your pocket, or are
you just happy to see me?" he mocked, stroking the undeniable bulge in Xander's pants. "What do they
call it these days - getting wood, I believe? A little ironic, don't you think?"
 
Xander drew a ragged breath. "Fuck you, you. . .you dead guy" he gasped - not his wittiest retort, but
then these were exceptionally trying circumstances.
 
"No, I don't think so," replied Angelus, laughter twining with the faint Irish lilt. Xander felt his left arm
twisted that bit higher, provoking another strangled gasp of pain, making him bend forwards. His right hand
stopped scrabbling at the vampire and shot out reflexively, trying to keep his face from being pushed right
down into the bed.
 
Then there was only the cold, wet pressure of the vampire's tongue licking patterns around the wound in
his throat, the agonizing movement of an unfamiliar hand stroking his eager cock through the fabric of his
pants, coaxing his wayward flesh into growing harder still as Angelus ground his own hips forward, his
erection clear even through the layers of their clothes. Xander's shins were pressed up against Mrs
Moore's bed and he stared helplessly down at the flowery bedspread.
 
Xander's thoughts were whirling, fractured, couldn't focus on anything beyond the tactile. There was only
sensation: fear, anger, shame, pain and, god help him. . .no, not that. His mind shied away from the half
formed thought. Can't go there. Not happening. Oh! God, that felt. . .
 
. . .one times seven is seven, two times seven is fourteen, three times seven is twenty one, four times
seven is. . .oh God. . .but he didn't like men, he liked girls. It was always girls in his fantasies, naked
girls·.naked Cordelia. . .naked Buffy. . .naked Buffy and Cordelia //OK, not doing much to reduce his
hard-on with these images// and that was most definitely a man's hand, a DEAD man's hand. . .and that
was a man's body thrust up against his back . . ..and. . .oh God. . .there, Oh * Yes * just there·.
 
. . .fear, anger, shame, pain and lust all tangled up.
 
And he *so* had not seen this coming. Like falling into Cordelia's arms mid-bicker in Buffy's basement,
flesh suddenly on flesh, intellect suddenly on vacation - he sure hadn't expected that·.except it was
NOTHING like that. Nothing at all. And this was a *demon*, dammit. What the hell was he, some sort of
self destructive demon-groupie? First a giant praying mantis, then an undead Inca mummy, now a fucking
vampire?
 
He closed his eyes. And to think he'd once thought that the Apocalypse was the worst thing that could
happen to a person.
 
"I know a secret, Xander Harris," said Angelus very softly, the cool flesh of his nose barely grazing the
edge of Xander's ear. "A dirty little secret."
 
His mouth - teeth normal, mouth human now - closed wetly over Xander's earlobe, licked, sucked,
released. And Xander Junior, tenting his pants all too noticeably, was just all kinds of happy about *that*
sensation.
 
"I've been watching you, Xander Harris, and I know that this is just *exactly* what you've wanted all
along. I know the most secret wishes of your heart. ÎCourse, when I had that filthy soul I was just no fun,
was I? But I'm all better now. And I've always had a taste for virgins." His mouth fastened on Xander's
throat again, sucking insistently at the leaking wound.
 
And now Angelus no longer had Xander's arm pinioned behind him. The vampire had one arm wrapped
around his waist, the other hand was unbuttoning his shirt deftly, cold fingers against his skin, nails
trailing delicate patterns, scratching, drawing blood.
 
And Xander realised a heartbeat later that he wasn't trying to escape. He was staring blindly at his
solitary reflection in the gilt-edged mirror, feeling like something deep inside was being torn open, some
protective membrane ripped away. Because yes, he had been - was - overwhelmingly jealous of Angel
because of Buffy. He wanted Buffy so badly it hurt, thought about her constantly, unrequited desire always
achingly there lacing the friendship. But also, also. . .(whisper it) also he had felt a little, just a little,
jealous of Buffy. The way he always bristled at Angel - that wasn't really *just* about Buffy. That was
also about this appalling surge of vulnerability and, and *wanting* that he felt churning in his gut whenever
he was around Angel.
 
And this thing, this demon, it wasn't even Angel. He knew that. And it was doing this to hurt him, using
this (whisper it), this *desire* that he hadn't ever admitted was there all along, using it against him. For
fun.
 
It was probably going to kill him.
 
But the really, truly terrible thing was that - witness Xander Junior straining against his pants, witness the
pre-come soaking through his boxers, the goosebumps on his arms, the BURNING awareness (though he
was trying not to notice) of the other man's hard-on rubbing deliciously against his back, against the soft
curve of his butt - the really dreadful thing was that even though he knew the thing behind him was a
demon, Xander *did* want this. And more. Quite desperately.
 
"You aren't trying to get away, Xander Harris. Why is that, I wonder?"
 
Cool fingers circling his nipple, pinching and twisting, stroking his belly. Unbuttoning his pants. Unzipping.
. .freeing. . .grasping - so cold! - oh God! This. Could. Not. Be. Happening.
 
Xander could not breathe.
 
"Doesn't feel much like a stake," remarked Angelus - cool, hard fingers feather light against his scrotum,
expertly working his cock, slick with his pre-come. . ."Did you want to stake me with this, Xander
Harris?" taunting, enjoying the way Xander's world was coming apart. A cool human-shaped face against
his hair, his neck, the shockingly soft sweep of eyelashes brushing his ear. A tongue swirling down over
his throat, brushing his adam's apple.
 
"Did you think you could stick this big hard stake into me and make me vanish?" The simpering tone
pure mockery, a breathy parody of seduction belied by the deep voice and the preternaturally strong body
pressed against him, wet fingers pulling deliciously at Xander Junior with each word.
 
Shut up, Xander wanted to say. Don't say anything. Enough of these fucking taunts and your stupid
fucking lame-ass attempts at wit, just *touch* me. . .
 
(Not happening.)
 
"Do you want me to stop, Xander?" God no, don't stop. Don't stop. "Because, you know, I just can't
help noticing that you don't seem to be putting up much of a fight here."
 
(Can't be happening. . .was that a moan? Did I moan just then? That certainly couldn't have been me
moaning... And it couldn't possibly be me, Xander, bucking helplessly in the other man's hands, leaning
forward with both hands now clutching the bedclothes, banging my ass, my hips back against another
guy's hard cock, rubbing myself up against Angelus so, so·)
 
He wanted to feel the vampire's bare flesh against his flesh, wanted the Bad-Guy-TM-Black-Leather-Pants
out of the way *right now*. And he absolutely could not begin to begin to BEGIN to deal with the fact that
he was reacting like this, that he could have fallen so far so quickly, so willingly, so unexpectedly.
 
And abruptly Angelus let go altogether, stepped back. Such a scorching sudden feeling of nakedness
then, pants rucked around his ankles, cock bobbing foolishly in thin air. So vulnerable. Some part of
Xander's brain remembered that he was wearing boxers with a Daffy Duck pattern. Oh, yes, much dignity.
He stood up straight, but couldn't look around. Couldn't look up at his own reflection either.
 
He stared down at the bed, trembling, furious, aroused, embarrassed beyond belief - which, given that he
might be DEAD any moment was really pretty breathtakingly dumb, when you thought about it. In fact
dumb didn't begin to cover how he was acting right now - he really should be prioritising fear for his life
over the fear that he was going to be rejected now, that Angelus was going to stop touching him. He
couldn't bear it if Angelus stopped touching him.
 
And sweet weeping mother of God, now Angelus was damned well going to have to kill him because
waking up in the morning and knowing that he'd actually *thought* that was going to be absolutely
unbearable. Worse than Mantis Lady. Worse than Inca Mummy Girl. Worse than Hyena boy.
 
Shoot me. Stuff me. Mount me.
 
This would of course be the moment when Buffy and Giles and the rest of the cavalry burst in, wouldn't it?
(Expect they'll be here any minute now, probably with your Mom and a CNN cameraman for that extra
whammy of humiliation, Xander.) And he honestly didn't know which would be worse now - being saved
or not being saved. Being killed or not being killed. Being fucked or not being fucked. Oh, this wasn't
happening.
 
Behind him he heard movement. Heard the leather slither of a belt being tugged off. A zip being unzipped.
A low rumbling growl that made the hairs on the nape of his neck stand on end, made his dumb cock
buck stupidly in his own (too warm) grasp. Xander gulped.
 
(Not happening.)
 
A cold hand closing around his throat with bruising strength, feeling the pulse racing. Then both hands on
his waist, thumbs inside the elastic of his boxer shorts, circling round to the front. Fingertips tangling in
the coarse dark curls, pulling the cotton further away from his engorged cock. Fingers inside the front of
the shorts, knuckles grazing the roots of his cock.
 
And then, god help him, the vampire actually *ripped* Xander's dumb Daffy Duck patterned underpants
right off him. Honest to god.
 
"Look at me, Xander." But no, he couldn't do that, couldn't turn around. This was being done to him, he
wasn't complicit. It wasn't what he wanted. He wasn't co-operating. He wasn't going to look Angelus in
the face.
 
He turned around.
 
Angelus. Angelus with Xander's blood on his lips. His white shirt gone. His pants unzipped, sliding down
his hips, bagging a little. Fingers. . .fingers wrapped around his cock, working it. His face - Xander
dragged his eyes away from the other man's cock, uncircumcised, *big* (Oh. My. God.) - darted a look at
his face and saw it was deceptively human again. Smiling, but there was nothing of warmth in that smile,
nothing of kindness or affection.
 
"Down on your knees." And would you look at that, Xander was down on his knees just like that, his
pants tangling awkwardly, binding his ankles together. He closed his eyes a moment, reeling at how
pathetically *easy* he was, feeling the anger build up. Opened them to find Angelus standing right in front
of him, his cock right *there*, the foreskin pulled back. Xander's gaze was transfixed by the translucent
bead of pre-come gleaming only a quick lick away from his face.
 
"Kiss it, Xander."
 
(And how does Angelus dare feel so sure I'll just do what I'm told? What's to stop me from biting the
damned vampire? OK, kneeling naked in front of him with a hard-on the size of a small Caribbean island
maybe doesn't look all that threatening, but still, still, dammit. . .)
 
And then the other man's cock just brushed his mouth and automatically - absolutely no conscious
thought involved here - Xander's tongue darted out to lick the wetness. And then he could *taste* the
pre-come glistening on its tip. A delicate whisper of sensation against his lips and then the sudden salt on
his tongue dilated his pupils and sent a jolt of exquisite electricity straight to the root of his cock, his mind
suddenly completely blank.
 
And a heartbeat later he had half a mind to just go ahead and bite the fucking vampire, to make Angelus
scream and show him that he wasn't, that he didn't. . .
 
"Of course, if you were to bite me you'd be tasting my blood, Xander," said Angelus, apparently reading
his mind. "And I think we both know what that means. In fact, I might just make you do that anyway,
because, you know, I *like it* rough. . .and how delicious to Turn The Slayer's precious little Scooby
gang. Now THAT would break her heart."
 
And with that Angelus tangled his fingers in Xander's hair and finally thrust forward, cool hard cock sliding
between slightly parted lips, fucking his soft, wet mouth viciously, choking him. Xander clung to him like a
drowning man, one of his large warm hands gripping the vampire's smooth ass, fingers curling around the
cool white flesh to nestle in the cleft between his buttocks, whilst the other hand was wrapped round the
shaft of his own cock, jerking unevenly as his whole body was slammed by the vampire's bruisingly hard
thrusts. His head was doing all kinds of aching now and the very last shreds of dignity seemed to have left
the building around the same time as his self preservation instincts and indeed his previously unblemished
heterosexuality.
 
Then Angelus slowed, stopped, and after a moment he withdrew his cock, Xander's saliva shining on the
shaft, and tugged the boy's head up to look at him. "Get up," he said softly. "Get on the bed. I'm going
to fuck you now, Xander - which is just what you want, isn't it?"
 
For an impossibly long moment Xander knelt in front of Angelus, helpless resentment fighting with naked
desire in his shadowy eyes. He licked swollen lips shakily, his mouth sore and his head aching, but
conscious of nothing so much as the urgent tightness of his cock.
 
"Beg me, Xander," breathed Angelus, his dark gaze locked on the boy's, drinking in the turbulent
emotions.
 
"I. . ." Xander looked away, felt his buttocks clenching. "I don't·" But he did want it, as they both knew,
and after an interminable pause he whispered hoarsely: "Fuck me. Please."
 
Angelus laughed again.
 
"I'm going to fuck your tight little ass until you come all over the late Mrs Moore's nice clean bed
clothes, Xander Harris. I'm going to fuck you so hard you'll feel like you're being torn in half when I come
inside you. Then I'm going to do it again. And then," he actually laughed at this point," you know, then I
think I might let you go home. And you can think about this when you're jerking off at night, and wonder
whether I'll kill you next time or maybe even wait until the time after that. And whenever you're sitting in
the library with Red and Giles and the Slayer, talking earnestly about how to stop Big Bad Angelus from
preying on the innocent, you will know, and I will know, that even though I would kill everything you love
just for the sheer joy of it, you still *let* me do this to you. That more than anything in the world you want
me to do it again."
 
And he did.
 

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