When the Sun Never Rises

Part 3

indie and tango


The next few days proved interesting for Buffy and she realized that as short and unfulfilling as her life would be, she was not going to be raped or abused by Lord Angelus before it was over. The few words over bread that Justine told her were enough to almost give her peace. As sick and depraved a monster she lived with until she was sacrificed, she now knew he couldn’t rape or beat her. She was safe and her mother was safe - until they killed her.

Every day Buffy tried to make it to the market where she spent time with the other Harkers, who shared stories about their Masters from time to time. Everyone but Faith who kept strangely silent, with the exception of a curt comment interspersed in conversation. Buffy kept silent as much as she could about Lord Angelus, mostly because everyone seemed to fear him more than the others and the mention of his name caused a ripple of shivers to erupt around the room.

Buffy started smiling a secret little smile at those Harker meetings because they hadn’t yet heard the roar of fury that Buffy was beginning to hear on an almost daily basis or the grotesque threats that Angelus began taunting her with when she did something to displease him. She had become completely unafraid and it infuriated him more than Buffy could have ever imagined. She almost began to get sick pleasure from his fury, knowing with all his power, he could do absolutely nothing to hurt her.

Giles warned her not to goad him, but Buffy couldn’t help it. He had made her first few days under his protection so vile, so absolutely degrading and disgusting that she felt he deserved whatever discomfort she could bring him. He would bark in her face, roar and she would merely watch him placidly. Smiling at him could nearly send him into a full blown rage. Of course, she was always careful not to involve any other humans in her taunting. She stayed far away from Lord Angelus’ Renfield servants, not wishing them to be maimed as a way to punish her.

But Lord Angelus was not one to be so easily deterred. He reveled in her fear, her loathing and he would do anything for it. He tried threats, he tried brutality, but there was only so far he could push without defiling her. Giving her the beating she so richly deserved was entirely out of the question. Though quite by accident, he stumbled upon a very effective way of unnerving her. It was so simple, so bland that he never would have thought of it by himself. But without any forethought, he strode into his bedroom where Buffy was searching for some lost book. He had just gotten out of the shower and was quite nude. He himself thought nothing of it, but as Buffy turned, her face burned a bright crimson and she stuttered a few words before making a hasty exit. Angelus stared blankly after her. Oh, it couldn’t really be that easy, could it?

Turned out, it was. She was so damned innocent. Yes, he knew that his debauchery with the Furies and with Darla would be enough to rattle her, but she was so chaste, so perfectly naive that his nude physical body alone was enough to send her into fits of moral outrage. Her offended sensibilities excited him and he discovered rather quickly that if his nudity scandalized her, then him naked with a hard on was almost enough to make her have a seizure. It was glorious.

They started showering together the next day. Or rather, he showered while she huddled in the corner doing her best to ignore him. He fixed that problem by making her hold the soap. She clasped the soap between her hands while his much larger ones massaged them together, coating them both with a rich lather. He then forced her to stand with her back against the wall, directly in front of him as he used the lather to coat his cock. Bracing one hand against the wall by her head, he used the other to stroke his rigid flesh. He growled deep in his throat, grunting as he thrust against his own hand. She hated every second of it, but he told her if she closed her eyes he would castrate Giles, so she kept her vision fixed firmly on his cock. His balls tightened with his quickly approaching release. He could smell the scent of her fear and it worked on him like the most potent aphrodisiac available. But beneath that glorious scent, there was something darker, something tangier and that superb little nuance was what finally brought him to completion, roaring as his semen splashed against her naked stomach.

Buffy was shivering and as soon as he lowered his arm, she quickly turned toward the spray of water and let it wash his seed from her skin. Finally clean, she turned to exit the shower and he held the door shut. He leaned over her shoulder, purring in her ear. “Oh, we’re not done yet.”

“But, I ... I mean you ... “

“Trust me,” he said, “I have a little more in mind than just jerking off.”

She swallowed thickly as terror threaded through her veins. “Like what?” she asked.

“You’re bleeding,” he said, licking his lips wetly.

“No, I’m not. See?” she said nervously, spinning around so quickly for him that she almost slipped on the slick shower floor. She took a step towards the door, babbling back at him as she tried to retreat. “You’d better hurry and get dressed. I’m sure there are people to eat and demons to-“

“Oh, no, no,” he crooned, pulling her back. There was a glint in his eyes that made her stomach jump to her throat as he knelt before her. Lord Angelus? Kneeling? She let out a screech as he lifted one of her legs to his shoulder and tried to backpedal only to find herself slipping. He held her steady and pressed his face into the secret place between her thighs. Her whole body shook and a sob erupted from her that echoed in the bathroom.

“You c-can’t,” she rasped, knowing the wetness on her cheeks were tears, not water from the spray still falling around them. She twisted and tried to claw the walls to escape. “I have to be pure.”

“Be still!” he growled from between her thighs, “You are pure, pure as the driven fucking snow...and I can’t wait to taste it.”

“Lord Angelus please!” she cried out, “You can’t! Can you? You can’t!”

“Your fear,” he purred, “it just makes this more decadent. Keep talking, Harker. I like the tremble in your desperate little voice.” She snapped her mouth closed and squeezed her eyes shut, but she couldn’t stop the gasp from erupting as he began lapping between her thighs. He grunted in satisfaction when a ripple of revulsion shuddered through her.

He pulled her other leg over his shoulder so that his face was trapped between the soft skin of her thighs and she was helpless to do anything but allow him to take what he wanted. He was nearly electrified by her fear as he traced her nether lips with his tongue, teasing her open. Careful not to unintentionally nick her with his fangs, he lapped every inch of her, finding invisible remnants of blood and cleaning her thoroughly before pressing inside her gloriously hot and tight silken cavern to find the welling of blood waiting for him there.

This was good, her fear was intoxicating, but it wasn’t enough. What he wanted – no needed – he wasn’t going to get so long as she was a frigid, frightened wreck. With more than a little irritation, he lowered both of her feet to the floor again, staring up at her with a dissatisfied frown.

Buffy stared down at him, her huge eyes still welling with tears. She didn’t know what had made him stop, but she was grateful nonetheless. He stood, never taking his eyes from her. He gave her another quick, raking gaze from head to foot and said tersely, “Finish your shower and then meet me in my bedchamber.”

She took so long in the shower that she half expected him to storm in and forcibly drag her out. But he didn’t. She used the soap and scrubbed herself from head to toe, trembling as her mind teemed with the horrible possibilities of what could await her in his bedroom.

She was wrapped in the large towel, somehow managing to make the fabric cover almost every visible inch of skin. Angelus looked at her, his lips pursed together in disdain as he held out a goblet towards her. She looked at it warily, noting that it seemed to be some dark red liquid.

“What is that?” she asked meekly.

“Wine,” he said dryly, rolling his eyes. As if he would be gauche enough to waste a perfectly good goblet of blood on a simpering human.

“I don’t drink,” she replied.

“You do now,” he said, forcing the goblet into her hand. He stared at her until she lifted the goblet to her lips and tentatively took a sip. She grimaced. It was strong. "All of it," he demanded. Knowing it would be easier than fighting, she forced herself to drink the wine. After the first few swallows it actually wasn't too bad. As she drank, a warm well felt as if it had opened in her stomach, radiating outward, making her cheeks burn.

She stared at the now empty goblet and then back to him, her brow puckering in a frown. She was tired and scared and she had no idea what he was doing and mostly she just wanted to be left alone. “What do you want from me?” she asked, her voice a strained whisper.

He smirked, looking her up and down. “You’re bleeding,” he said, licking his lips unconsciously. “Well, you’re starting to bleed. If I were inclined to be patient, I could just wait until tomorrow and drink my fill, but I’ve never been known for my patience. While I have more than enough human donors, Harker blood is a far superior vintage to anything available. Hell, Harker blood is better than sireblood. You didn’t honestly think I would forego a taste, did you?”

She was shaking again, clutching the towel even tighter as she stared at him. She had indeed noticed the signs that her menses would start soon, but she never dreamed ... “Y-y-you can’t defile me,” she said, trying to straighten her spine as she faced him. The alcohol wasn't helping. She felt herself starting to weave.

He rolled his eyes again. “And if I were getting ready to bite you, this would be an issue,” he said with wry amusement. Her innocence was just novel enough to keep from irritating him. He took in her confused countenance and sighed in exasperation. “You’re bleeding,” he said bluntly. “I’m not taking anything from you except what your body is already willingly offering. There is no taint to that action, nothing to sully your purity.”

“But you’re not supposed to be able to touch us,” she whined, clinging to her last hope of reprieve.

“That is just myth,” Angelus said, pacing around the room. "Most vampires are idiots and have no control. Telling the Lords they cannot touch their Harkers without defiling them merely keeps them from temptation. There are few as strong and controlled as me. One of them might start off innocently attempting to lick a wound shut and the next thing you know, the Harkers dead on the floor, every drop drained. Your blood is intoxicating. The myth is merely there to ensure Harkers make it to the feast days, so that your death may serve a purpose."

She was wobbling, trying to keep him in focus, but everything was getting a little soft around the edges, diffuse. She was having trouble remembering why she had been so upset. "But I don't understand," she said truthfully, "why did you give me the wine?"

He came closer to her, taking in the rosy blush to her cheeks, her unfocused eyes. "I want you to enjoy things, Buffy," he purred. "It will be so much easier for both of us if you do. The wine just makes you more amenable to my advances." He reached out and brushed his fingertips along her exposed shoulder where the towel had slipped.

She looked at his fingertips and then back to his face, her eyes wide. It was obvious she couldn't even contemplate being attracted to him. With an exasperated sigh, he closed his eyes and concentrated. It wasn't easy, but he hadn't become Lord Angelus without learning a few tricks. He forced his demon to recede.

Buffy watched spellbound as his face shifted, the ridges on his forehead seeming to melt away until he looked like a Renfield or any other human. Slowly his eyes opened, a rich chocolate brown. The goblet clattered loudly to the floor. She gasped, instinctively covering her mouth with her hands while she stared at him in unbridled shock.

He smiled at her and her heart lurched painfully in her chest. He was quite possibly the most beautiful man she had ever seen. But he wasn't a man. She didn't understand.

He stepped closer, once again stroking her arm. "Shhh," he whispered against her ear, "it's a secret, but all vampires were at one time human."

Buffy pulled back, her common sense dulled by the large amounts of alcohol. He held her loosely in his embrace. She studied his face, lifting her hands to trace over his brow, she pushed on his chin and he humored her, smiling widely. There were no fangs in sight.

She was still staring at him like an idiot when he leaned down and caught her lips in a kiss. She shuddered against him as his cool mouth warmed to match her temperature, his tongue doing the same as it traced her mouth, begging entry. It was almost as if an invisible blanket had fallen over him and it was warming his entire body, stealing her warmth as vampires stole blood.

She swaying against him, dizzy from the wine and the shock of the evening. He wasn’t even forcing himself on her this time. He was still taking but it was almost as if he would allow her to say no, if she wanted. To her horror, she started kissing him back. She opened her mouth for him and was utterly stunned at his gentle kiss, his roaming hands pushing her towel away. He pulled her naked body against him and threaded his fingers through her hair. Her stomach clinched as a funny feeling fell over her. She knew it had nothing to do with the wine and everything to do with Angelus. When he backed her toward the bed, she went willingly, lost in the feel of his hands and mouth.

He lifted her onto the bed and gave her no choice but to spread her legs around his hips, cradling him against her as he moved from her lips to seek out other warm skin. She did nothing to try and dissuade him. Everything she knew about vampires and Harkers was changing drastically as he skipped over her throat entirely and moved down to slide his lips over her clavicle, then her breasts. He cupped them gently in his strong hands, rubbing her nipples to hard points with his thumbs before tasting one.

“T-this has to be wrong,” she gasped. She raised her hips involuntarily and squeezed her thighs against his sides. His eyes shot up to look into her, the velvety brown just as deep and beautiful as she remembered. This man, no, this vampire looked nothing like a demon. There was still no sign of what he was on his face, in his touch. He kept his gaze on her, working her nipple with his tongue and squeezing the other between his numb and forefinger. She was trapped in his eyes as he switched sides, taking the neglected point into his mouth. Slowly, he closed his eyes and focused on his task.

She panted hot breaths out despite her effort not to and whimpered in pleasure as his hand slid down between them, parting her nether lips with his fingers. She wanted to protest. She really did. His voice was soft and didn’t even resemble his normal growl when he finally spoke. “You want pleasure, Buffy,” he said, barely touching his lips against her skin as he moved down, “how is that wrong?”

Just before he settled between her thighs once more, licking at her now enflamed flesh, she realized with a start, she did want him. A half hour before when he tried to do this, she was ready to kill herself before allowing this monster to touch her and now she couldn’t help but wish that he wouldn’t stop. She wanted to blame it on the alcohol. That would be so easy. But some horrible little part of herself knew there was much more to it than that.

His lips were warm now as they kissed along her hip bones. He urged her thighs wider, scooting down between them as he licked and suckled along her thighs. He was lost in the smell and taste of her. But not lost enough to ignore the taunting growl at the back of his mind. He could have forced this on her, as he had done to all of the Harkers before her. He could have drank down her terror while making her come against her will. But he hadn’t. He opted to give her pleasure, his reasoning as much a mystery to him as it was to her.

He couldn’t restrain a small rumbling growl as he tilted her hips, angling her as he lowered his mouth to the wiry curls covering her sex. He took a deep, unnecessary breath, imbibing her unique smell, her Harker blood and musk. Anticipation crackled along his nerves as he slowly extended his tongue, lapping at the seam between her lips. Her flesh was warm and fragrant and oh so wet. He pushed his face against her, his lips and tongue forcing her nether lips apart as he tasted her.

She whined, arching against him and he rewarded her by slowly circling her clit with his tongue, laving it in long, languid strokes that had her bowing off the bed. Her nipples were tightened to stiff peaks and her entire body was covered with a fine sheen of perspiration as her first orgasm ripped through her body, leaving her shaken and panting. He growled in satisfaction, his tongue darting into her still clenching sheath, rooting out her elusive life’s blood. When it hit his tongue, it sent a shiver through his large frame. Harker blood was always good, but it was never this powerful.

The shock of her incredible blood flying through his system sent a growl of pleasure to erupt from his lips, the sound mingling with Buffy’s cry of pleasure. He almost felt lighter, as if he had downed a bottle of the wine he had given her to sip earlier and he risked a glance upward. He looked over her face but kept his tongue lapping at her delicate flesh in a continuous motion. She looked back down at him, meeting his gaze with languid, heavy lidded eyes, smiling down at him.

He growled against her and a realization struck him so hard, he squeezed his eyes shut and just barely kept himself from moving away from her. Blonde, innocent and beautiful, she loomed above him. Hell help him, he was attracted to her. Not just the taste of her powerful blood, not simply the decadent smell of her fear, not even the lithe shape of her supple little human body, but true attraction. For fuck’s sake, he wanted to be nice to her. He wanted to see that look her eyes again and again.

He fought the urge to sink his teeth into her femoral artery and drain the bitch dry. All it would take was a simple turn of his head into her thigh. In moments he life would be gone and there would be no more beautiful girl to make him feel beautiful again with just one glance. No human had ever made him want to be nice to her before, no Harker ever got this special treatment. Every fiber in his undead body cried out that he destroy her before it was too late. Instead, he clenched his fingers more tightly into her supple flesh and brought her up against his mouth like a bowl of milk and keeping his eyes closed, he swallowed pleasure and strength until he had his fill.


On to part 4

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