RockStarPeach

So, here's a little Angelus/Giles ficlet, and once again the idea came from the full-of-ideas zoesmith, who isn't afraid to pose a challenge.  This one was tougher for me, cause I don't write the torture, as a rule.

 

Title: Tell Me When It Hurts

Pairing: Angelus/Giles

Summary:  Missing scene from Becoming II, Angelus tries to get answers from Giles.  Some lines taken from the episode.

Rating: Adult

 

 

Tell me When it hurts

“You're pretty up on these things,” Angelus told him, turning from the large stone statue to look at Giles.  “ You could probably... tell me what I'm doing wrong.   But honestly, I sorta hope you don't.   'Cause I really wanna torture you.”

“Lucky you, then,” Giles told him, dryly, having no intention of sharing even his recipe for cinnamon raison loaf with Angelus, let alone the secret to awakening Acathla. 

“Aw, come on Rupert!” Angelus boomed in mock disappointment, shaking his head as he crossed to him in long, careless strides.  “You know you’re gonna give it up eventually.  I know you’ve read about me, about what I can do, and you’ve gotta know that before this is over, you’ll talk.  Everybody does.”

He shot his hand forward to grab one of Rupert’s and twisted the first two fingers back painfully, smiling as the man winced, slowly falling to his knees in front of him.  “So why not make this easier on yourself and tell me what I want to know, now?” he asked almost conversationally as he snapped the fingers back, breaking them cleanly.

Giles cried out at the pain, and he didn’t fail to notice the smug look on Angelus’ face when he did, but relatively speaking Giles knew this was nothing, and it would take a hell of a lot more for him to even consider giving Angelus the information he wanted.  Unfortunately he was pretty sure that the sick bastard was counting on that.

“You don’t actually believe that’s going to happen, do you?” Giles asked, half breathless.

“No, I really don’t,” Angelus answered, looking down at him.  “And remind me to thank you later.” 

He let go of Giles’ hand and the man immediately snatched it back, cradling it in his other arm and looked down at the floor.  He looked kind of pretty like that, Angelus had to admit; face contorted in pain and kneeling at his feet.  He’d look even prettier covered in blood and begging for his life, but that would come later.

Angelus bent down so that the two were face to face and he was impressed when Giles tilted his chin up to meet his gaze, his eyes hard and challenging despite his inferior position.  He grabbed a handful of the man’s hair and slowly craned his head to the side, delighting in the slight resistance he offered.

“Tsk, tsk, Rupert,” Angelus chided after his fangs elongated and his eyes yellowed.  “Don’t go playing hard to get on me.  It’s just not… polite.”

Giles held his breath and closed his eyes as Angelus leaned closer at an agonisingly leisurely pace, as he waited for the bite he knew was coming.  He wouldn’t be drained yet he knew; Angelus needed him for the time being, but he had no doubt that the vampire would make it hurt.

He forced himself to hold still, to not struggle as he felt unnecessary puffs of air from Angelus’ mouth ghost over his neck, but he couldn’t stop the shudder that ran through him as the fangs brushed across his flesh and rested over his pulse point, pushing in gently and breaking the thin layer of skin.

He didn’t even bother holding back his sob at the searing agony of his blood being pulled from him, or the grunt of effort that immediately followed it when he used all the strength he could muster given the circumstances to punch Angelus in the throat with his good hand.  There wasn’t as much force behind it as he would have liked, given his limited range of motion, but it was enough to send Angelus’ head reeling back and his fingers to let go of his hair.

He took the opportunity to scramble back slightly, and tried to stand, to get into a better position for fighting, even though he didn’t think it would do any good, but was stopped by Angelus’ hand on his shoulder, squeezing painfully, and forcing him back down to the ground.

“No, don’t get up, Rupert,” he said.  “Make yourself comfortable.  I insist.”

Giles tried to wrench his shoulder free, but Angelus’ grip was stubborn and he laughed at the futile attempts, the repressed screams music to his ears.  Oh yes; the watcher was very pretty like this, and the smell of his blood in the air, the taste of it on his tongue, the haggard, pain-filled breaths were shooting straight to Angelus’ cock, hardening it delightfully beneath two thin layers of clothing.

“And while you’re down there,” he mused, free hand going to the front of his pants to cup his rather impressive erection.  He tightened his fingers around the length and jacked himself a few times through his pants, exaggerating the moan of pleasure and thrusting his hips forward slightly, giving Giles a demonstration of what was to come.

Giles’ eyes were riveted to the movement, unable to look away even though he wanted to be seeing just about anything besides what he was seeing at that moment.  He felt his stomach roil, felt it clench and tasted the bile that rose up at the back of his throat and just barely managed to hold onto his lunch at the notion of what he thought Angelus was suggesting.  There was no way he could actually want him to…

“You might as well make that mouth of yours useful for something, since you don’t plan on talking,” the vampire said, unzipping his pants and pulling himself out.

Okay, so maybe there was.  Giles looked up then, saw Angelus looking down at him with a cruel grin framing blood-coated fangs, and for the first time in a long time, Giles was scared.  Torture, threats, imminent death:  these were things he’d been trained for, things he knew how to deal with, but this… Oh, God this was something else entirely. 

“Open wide,” Angelus said in sort of a sing-song, waggling his dick back and forth in front of Giles’ face.

“Fuck off,” Giles spat out and the next thing he knew he was face first on the dirty floor, vision blurry, the side of his head throbbing and swelling from where Angelus had backhanded him. 

He hadn’t been hit all that hard, not considering he’d been hit by Angelus, but it was enough to ring his bell a little and he could offer nothing in the way of protest, verbally or physically as the vampire easily hauled him back up again with one hand in his hair, wrenching his head up straight as the other hand guided the leaking tip of his cock to his mouth, and he pushed.

Giles did his best to keep his mouth shut, and Angelus appreciated it.  It made the experience all the sweeter, forcing his way in past unwelcoming lips and teeth, bruising the delicate flesh of lips and tongue and throat with his powerful thrusts.

His balls tightened and he let out an unconscious rumble, his chest vibrating almost like he was purring when he smelled a fresh wave of blood and saw tiny red rivulets dripping down from the corners of Giles’ mouth.  His lips were cracked and bleeding from the effort of trying to keep Angelus out, and his eyes were glazed over from the blow and the effort of not passing out or being sick, and Angelus was loving it.

After less than a minute Giles caught on that his limited resistance was not only getting him nowhere, but increasing Angelus’ arousal and enjoyment exponentially.  He went limp in the vampires grasp, the sharp pain of all his weight being supported by a handful of hair not lasting very long as Angelus almost immediately adjusted to the change in position by moving both of his hands to the sides of Giles’ head, holding him there as he hammered into his mouth relentlessly.

The tip of his cock was bruising the back of Giles’ throat and it hurt and it stung and his eyes were starting to water and he desperately hoped he wouldn’t actually cry, because he had no doubt that Angelus would just love that.  The best thing he could do, he knew, was to not react, just ride it out and wait for it to be over, no matter how badly he wanted to fight back.

To let Angelus know how much he hated this, how humiliated and degraded and ashamed and powerless it made him feel, would only be to invite more of the same, and he was mortified to think that it might actually be better to just tell Angelus what he wanted to know, than to have to go through this again.
 
Angelus wasn’t an idiot; he knew what Giles was thinking, why he’d stopped struggling, and the man had been right.  It did take much of the fun out of it, but not enough that he’d actually stop.  He pushed in brutally a few more times, then pulled back completely, sticky trail of pre-cum and saliva still joining him to the half open mouth from several inches away.

“Do you like this Rupert,” he asked, breathless even though he didn’t need to be.  “Do you like me fucking your face?  Or do you wish I still had the soul?  Would that make it better for you?”

Giles didn’t answer, only narrowed his eyes at the demon and set his mouth in a determined line.

“Oh, come on,” Angelus goaded.  “We’re friends here.  You can tell me.  You’ve always wanted me, haven’t you?”

Giles tried to look down, tried to pull away, but Angelus held him fast. 

“You don’t think I’ve never noticed, do you?  How you look at me?”  Angelus stroked his thumbs gently over Giles’ cheeks, a parody of a lover’s caress as his eyes bore condescendingly into those of the man on the ground.

It wasn’t true.  Giles had never wanted Angel, not really.  Sure, he’d found him physically attractive and an incredibly interesting case study, and he’d been wanting to pick his brain, get whatever information he could on him to add to the Watcher Diaries, but he’d never ever entertained the possibility of sexual congress with him.

Angelus had to have known that, and was just trying to push his buttons, and yet Giles couldn’t help but play the game.

“Don’t be absurd,” he said, voice rasp and raw after the pounding his mouth had taken.  “I’m not that desperate.”

Angelus snarled and rage filled him, but he managed to tamp it down and he met the man’s eyes.  “Well, then,” he said, trying to make a deal that he had no intention of keeping, even if Giles agreed to it.  “Do you have anything to tell me, Rupert?  Something that might be worth me not having to keep your mouth stuffed?”

“I’m not telling you anything, you murdering son of a bitch.  So you might as well just kill me.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Rupert,” Angelus said, eyes flashing yellow for a moment.  “We’ll get to that.  Later.”

He pushed forward into the warm mouth again, pistoning in and out as quickly as he could, then thrusting himself in as far as Giles’ face would allow, holding himself there as he watched Giles gag and fight for air, only pulling back out again just before the man passed out from lack of oxygen.  Then he would start the pattern all over again.

Unfortunately for Angelus it didn’t last very long.  Rupert was way too entertaining, too pretty and suffered too beautifully, and it wasn’t long before Angelus was roaring out his release into the wet heat of his very first watcher.  He’d best be careful or he’d develop a taste for them, and that could get dangerous.

Giles nearly chocked on the cool semen, coughing and spitting as best he could, wheezing and fighting for air and consciousness, when Angelus pulled free of his mouth and hauled him to his feet in front of him in one swift motion.  Giles spared a moment to admire how together he seemed to be so soon after orgasm before he was roughly shoved backward several steps until he fell backwards into a hard wooden chair.

Fuck, but that man’s mouth was phenomenal, and very possibly the only place he wanted to get off in for at least the next week.  Maybe he wouldn’t kill him yet; he was finally starting to see some use in him.  But he still had work to do, it wouldn’t get him anywhere getting so easily distracted.

He pushed him down into the chair, not bothering to hold him up as he wobbled and fought for balance, and he swiftly tied his wrists together behind him, only pulling tighter on the ropes when they dug into the skin causing blood to trickle down Rupert’s hands, and the man to grunt at the burn.

He moved back to stand in front of him, taking in the blood on his mouth, the cum running down his chin, the bruised cheek, the black eye, hands tied behind his back and the choked breathing.  He was almost a masterpiece, and Angelus felt oddly proud of himself.  It had been a while since he’d done this to someone and he wanted to make the most of it.

He kneeled, tilting Rupert’s chin up slightly with one deceptively strong finger and placed a chaste, teasing kiss on his lips before ripping the man’s shirt apart with both hands, buttons flying off in all directions.

Giles sucked in a breath through his teeth and held as still as he was able as cool hands traced over his chest, his ribs and came to rest flat against his stomach.  Whatever Angelus had planned next couldn’t be nearly as bad as what he’d just been through, even if the physical pain of it was ten times worse, and he closed his eyes, mentally preparing for whatever would come next, and he wasn’t all surprised to fell the sharp pressure of a blade cutting through his skin, shallow and short at first, and he opened his eyes again, looking at Angelus’ face and couldn’t help but think that he looked beautiful, so deep in concentration, and cursed himself for the thoughts.

He watched the vampire work, horrified and fascinated by both of their reactions as the cuts got deeper, more painful, and Angelus bent forward to lick up every last drop that slid down his chest and stomach.

Giles was crying, he realised at some point.  Silent tears down his cheeks that were a result of the torment he suffered under Angelus’ hand and the sympathy for his slayer and the grief at losing his lover to this monster, and it only made him more determined not to give in.

“Rupert,” Angelus called from someplace far-off.  “It doesn’t have to be like this, you know.  If you tell me what I want to know it can all end.  You won’t have to suffer anymore.  You’ll be free.”

“I’d rather,” he panted defiantly between tearful hiccups and sputtering coughs.  “Suck… your dick.”  And then everything went black

***

Some while later he blinked into alertness again, vainly hoping that it had all been a bad dream, but that hope was shattered when he heard his voice from a dark corner.

“Rupert, buddy... I'm here to tell you, I'm impressed,” Angelus said, wiping off Giles’ glasses with a small cloth.  He stood, dropping the cloth to the floor and walked to where the mans was tied to a chair, sliding the glasses back on his face gently.

“Hey.  How you holdin' up?” he asked with mock concern.

Giles looked up weakly and managed to sputter out, “ Never... better”.  It wasn’t even close to the truth and they both knew it, but they also both knew that Giles was in no danger of giving anything up.  At least not yet.

Angelus would have to work a hell of a lot harder if he wanted any information from him.

“Glad to hear it,” Angelus said, cheerfully, menacingly.  “Now... tell me when it hurts.”

***

Angelus set to work on him, using all of his most favoured techniques, and feeling tiny sparks of triumph when the man cried out or his shoulders slumped or his head fell forward.  It wouldn’t be long now…

Giles owned the pain, channelled it, as he’d been taught, felt it and named it and put it aside, detaching himself from any powers it might have had over him, and even though he still experienced every little thing – every broken bone, every bruise inflicted, every pressure point activated and every bit of torn flesh – he was able to hold on.

But he was fading fast, despite his remarkable strength and he wasn’t sure how long he could keep it up.

***

“You know,” Angelus said, feigning concern.  “I can stop the pain. You've been very brave... but it's over.  You've given enough.”  He leant down then and whispered the next bit into Giles’ear, personal and seductive.  “Now let me make it stop.”

“Please!” Giles cried out, not even sure what he was begging for, only knowing that he needed it to end.

“Just tell me what I need to know,” Angelus tempted, kneeling down to face him.

Giles tried desperately to order his thoughts, to remember who he was and what he needed to do, to be strong and perform his duty, to save the world.  “In order... to be worthy...” he began, stumbling over the words.

“Yeah?” Angelus whispered, breath puffing lightly across Giles’ face.

Giles closed his eyes tightly in an attempt to concentrate, to say what he needed to say, then opened them again and blinked at Angelus.  “You must perform the ritual... in a tutu.”

Angelus glared at him, not quite believing what he’d heard, and getting very close to ripping the man’s head off and trying to find another way to get the answers he wanted.

“Pillock!” Giles spat, pleased with himself, at least for the moment.

“All right,” Angelus said, irritated, and stood up.  “Someone get the chainsaw.”

***

Giles didn’t think that anyone had gotten the chainsaw, and he would have been grateful for that except the next thing he remembered was coming out of his muddled haze long enough to see Jenny in front him, to tell her everything, hoping that she would help him, keep the information from Angel, but when he looked up to realise that it had been Drusilla, that she’d gotten into his head, made him see what he wanted, and made him tell them the truth – then he’d wished Angelus had gotten his hands on that chainsaw after all.

END