Title: With Me, Remain
Title: With Me, Remain
From Sonnet #36...
It didn't work.
And this is how it came about:
The family, the servants, why, they hardly fought at all for their home or lives. Went down easily, like small bugs underfoot - a crunch, a sup of hot blood, and they were no more.
These sort of easy pickings discomfit him. He prefers it when there's a bit of a scrap, when he can glory in his new strength. A bit like he imagines American cowboys feel about "breaking" horses. A necessary pleasure, that lesser creatures may learn their masters.
And a master he has become. Angelus scoffs at this, but he knows it to be true. No lower being could dream of such power as is at his fingertips.
He spreads them wide, gazing thoughtfully at their slender strength. Never before used for more than holding a pen or taking his mother's arm, only just tonight these hands have been...
Idle. And he finds himself bored, the chase ended, and no company of his own.
Drusilla has wandered off into her private world of dollies and teacakes, where he is not her beloved golden boy but rather a mean scamp who needs to run home to his mother. You are my mother, he should like to say - but doesn't. My mother, my lover, my world.
He would rather not go near Angelus of his own free will. The hulking creature has a dark light to his eyes, a certain madness, which warns the wise man far away.
Darla, the mysterious lady of Angelus' heart, he has not yet met. She remains away, at the "Master's" court. It frightens him no small bit to think that a creature more bestial, more brutal than Angelus could exist - yet when first they met, was he not lapping up, from the corner of his mouth, the blood from a single blow at her hand?
And this "Master"? Oldest, most powerful, and cruelest of all? He shivers just to think on it. For this reason, Angelus delights in telling him tales of old Heinrich Nest. To frighten him, William thinks. Just as a nurse might terrify a child into obedience, he thinks to make William cower before him. Well, they shall see about that!
He toys with a spinning-top fallen by the stairs where they killed the nursemaid, and thinks hard on all these things.
William has by now killed in plenty. Felt his bones shift, his teeth lengthen, knowing that the demon which his body houses is showing its true visage. He's torn into the slender necks of dainty ladies who struggle and scream though no one listens. Has even brought down his revenge upon those who mocked him in life. Took his very birthmother and...
But surely this does not make him a monster! Blood he must have to survive, and there is only one way he knows of taking it. Revenge is any honest man's right. And to his mother, he acted only out of love. A pity that it went so awry.
He has had time to think on all that, this lonely night after he has fed and filled his belly. And this is his conclusion: he must take his dark princess, Drusilla, and leave Angelus' side forthwith.
His plan is simple enough. The Season is just now ending, and rather than let their town homes go empty half the year some families allow relatives to stay on and care for the places. He and Drusilla shall choose a likely, sumptuous estate, devour the current residents, and pack the bodies away in their own trunks to be shipped back home. Perhaps they'll leave a clever lad alive, if they see one, for running daylight errands.
Each night they shall hunt, and take whatever they needs from the pockets and hand-bags of their kills - plenty to provide Drusilla with anything she could wish for, and to suit his own needs. They both need fresh clothing, Drusilla something more... modish, perhaps. Then, best of all, after feeding they'll retire to their own bedchamber to while the remains of the night away in worshipping at the altar of one another's bodies.
One can live this way as a vampire. He sees absolutely no reason why not. Only Angelus, with his surly moods and whims, must move them about every few days. No time to settle in anywhere, to get comfortable. To establish themselves.
Well, he for one has had enough of it. Besides, the foul creature is a bad influence on his dark princess.
There! It's decided. He stands, brushing dust and dried blood from his hands off onto the legs of his trousers. Sooner begun, sooner done. He'll go see Angelus right now and - "give his notice". That makes him smile, for really, it's the other way around. It is the dark vampire who is being dismissed, no longer needed.
A very satisfying feeling, that.
Still, no need to be rude about it. It is a difficult task, without a mirror, but he makes himself as presentable as possible - hair smoothed back, clothes brushes, shoes shined - before he goes to find their unwanted third.
As expected, he discovers Angelus in the parlor, lolling in a most undignified manner in a chaise lounge. He's pulled the body of a plump, oldish ladies' maid onto his knee, her head against his chest, aping the crudity of a tavern layabout with a saucy serving wench. The wound on her neck, ugly and ragged, still oozes slowly with the last of her blood. Her eyes, wide open, stare at William as if he confuses her.
He makes almost no sound, but of course Angelus knows he is there. "William," he says slowly, drawing out the word. Making it an ugly thing. "Come to see the night out with your lord and master, have you? There's a good boy."
William's temper flares. He cannot abide those terms, and refuses to live by them. More than once they have come to blows over this.
Still. It won't do to make a fuss - now. Soon it won't matter.
"Angelus, a word with you, if you please," he says formally.
"I'm hardly in the mood." Angelus waves a lazy hand, then props it under the maid's breast. "She's a fair handful for someone of her age. Care for a taste?"
William's lip curls. "She is dead," he points out patiently. "Her blood -"
"Na, never dead. Not yet at least." Angelus dips his mouth to the wound on the woman's neck and sucks noisily. He draws back to grin with red-stained teeth. "She lives. Just barely. Enough to draw a breath now and again. Come, have a try. Must have liked her sweetmeats, this one. She tastes of sugar."
And truly, William can smell that intoxicating aroma now that Angelus rolls it about in his mouth like a fine wine. For a moment he's tempted - but no.
"Suit yourself, then." Angelus drinks again, then sits back with a lazy sigh, dragging the woman against him. "That's the last of her, then. And here, boy: if you're just going to stand about, you might as well fetch me a cheroot and a spill to light it with."
William is obeying before he realizes it. Enraged with himself, he has half a mind to pitch both straight back into the hearth, but decides rather on one last gracious gesture. With a half-bow and a nod of his head, he extends the items to Angelus.
"That does damage such fine draperies, you know," he warns. The room is lovely - Mother would have treasured it - and it would be a shame to damage it further. They'll have trouble enough wiping up the blood spills.
Angelus snorts. "As if I gave a damn. We'll be gone from this place come sundown." He wriggles in his chair. "Them that lived here had no... imagination. Far too plain and ordinary." His eyes land on William and flash with a malicious light. "Like yourself, I'd say."
"Would you?" William's hands tighten into fists. That is simply the last he can take. "Fortunately, your opinion no longer matters to me, Angelus. If indeed it ever did."
"Really, then?" Angelus sounds bored. "And is there a reason I should care?"
"Because." William straightens proudly. "I am leaving you, your foul name and brutish ways, all of it, behind me. And I intend to take Drusilla with me."
He expected anger. He expected vitriol. He did not expect a startled burst of laughter so loud that it shakes the delicate windows in their frames. Angelus rolls in his seat, jostling the maid's corpse to and fro. Her head bobs on her neck like a broken flower. "Gods be damned, boy!" he gasps when he's finally got himself together. "You think you're vampire enough to strike out on your own? Barely three weeks turned and you're a master already?"
"I am a master!" William protests.
"Jesus, Mary and Joseph. You're no master. You can barely fumble your way across the room without tripping." Those dark brown eyes are deeply amused. "What's got that fool notion in your head?"
"I am leaving," William repeats, furious. "I am taking Drusilla. And I warn you that you would be wise not to stop me."
"Wise, would I be?" Angelus shakes his head. "Wise, he says," he addresses the maid. "What's that, then? Well, you're right enough - to a fool, madness seems like sanity."
Quick as a flick, he sends his lit cheroot through the air, so close to William's ear that he feels the sting of it passing. He flinches back despite himself. "Did you even see me move?" Angelus demands. "Are you that quick?"
"I will be, in time." William is steadfast.
"And how do you plan to live? No, no, don't tell me. I can see it all over you, shined up as you are. You'll be a gentleman vampire, all genteel and proper in your 'lovely' home. Accompanied by the missus and a fine family of broken china dolls." Angelus grins, a feral thing. "You're a fool, boy. Naught but week-old porridge in that skull of yours."
Deeply offended, William says nothing. He has tried to be civil, and been rebuffed. Very well, he'll just turn about and walk away. Let the creature regret its idiocy later.
"Surely you're not leaving in a fit of anger?" Angelus calls after him. "If we're to part, then let's at least part as gentlemen would."
This startles William, and he turns back with eyes wide behind the glasses he no longer really needs. Angelus nods. "I'll let you have a try, at the least. And never a complaint should you decide to return to my side. Hell, I'll even let Dru go, but you mustn't mind her wandering." He licks away the blood over his teeth. "She has a mind of her own, even if it is cracked."
Slowly, so slowly, William comes back into the room. "You mean this?"
"Course I do. Come, then. Share a civilized drink with me." Angelus jostles the maid thoughtfully. "There might be a sip left in her, though it's going cold by now."
William shakes his head. "I will have claret, if you please."
"Claret!" Angelus rolls his eyes. "Not only a milk-sop, but a lady in disguise. Claret, I ask of you! But no - if that's what you want, then that's what you shall have. A bottle's on the sideboard, I think."
"Ah!" William discovers it when Angelus points. Pleased, he pours himself a small glass. "And for yourself?"
The dark eyes stare at him. "I'll have none of it."
"But I thought -"
"I said a civilized drink, not a mollycoddled excuse for one." Angelus shoves the maid aside to land in a messy heap on the floor, and leans forward. "Have you never tried any strong drink since you were turned? Nor any food?"
But of course he - wait... no, he has not. Has he? William frowns. "Not to my recollection, but that -"
"You've no need of it any more. There's no taste to it."
"I beg your pardon?"
"You'll see. Go ahead, have a sup!" Angelus waves at his glass. "You'll see what I mean."
William sips hesitantly at the claret - and only just manages not to spit it out again.
"You see?" The dark vampire glowers. "There's one taste for you now, and for all time: blood. Everything else is dust and ashes on your tongue. And you thought yourself a master. Young fool. Look, here:" he holds out his hand, palm up. "Taste of your skin."
William's startlement frustrates the older vampire. "Go on, I said, taste!" he orders. "Lick at your palm as you would if you had a pinch of salt in there."
Hesitating, William raises his hand. His pink tongue flickers out to lap at the skin. He blinks. It tastes of... nothing.
"You see? But now..." Angelus presses his hand to the wound on the woman's neck and raises it, dripping. "Come here, boy. Come and taste of this."
And for all of his earlier feasting, the sight fills William with a curious hunger. He approaches, shy as a feral cat, casting sidelong looks at Angelus - who waits, patient as the night is long. This is most peculiar, but... he lowers his mouth to the uplifted hand, the runnels of blood, and licks delicately.
Angelus hisses as William moans, the taste filling his mouth, racing through his system. He was right... the blood is sweet, all peaches with cream and honeyed strawberries. More eagerly, he laps at the vampire's outstretched hand, even poking his tongue between the fingers to catch every last drop.
A tantalizing drop lingers on Angelus' forefinger. Without thinking, William seizes upon it, drawing the digit into his mouth and sucking ravenously. He takes hold of the hand in both his own, drawing it nearer to his face. More... there must be more somewhere...
And with a slight flick, Angelus' hand wrist turns up. His finger slices open on William's fang - a proper cut, deep, the blood instantly flowing into the hungry mouth.
Dear merciful God! William nearly reels. He had no idea. Such power - such pleasure - so rich - forgetting himself, he laves and suckles at the wound, digging the point of his tongue into the gash to winkle out more.
"Enough, then," Angelus says softly. "William, did you hear me? Enough."
He whimpers as the stronger vampire draws his hand away, dragging the bloody finger down his cheek in a trail of crimson. "That," he says softly, "is your life now. I am your life. Your lord and master. And you'll acknowledge that, one way or the other, before this night is through - or I'll turn you to dust myself."
William growls at him. He's got no right to take the treat away! Teeth snapping, he lunges after it.
Angelus catches him easily by the wrists. "Now there's a bit of what I like to see," he says softly. "Let the demon in you run wild, Will. See something you like, and take it."
But he holds the blood out of reach! William snarls at him, baring his fangs. He wants more!
"Oh, you'll have it, Will," Angelus whispers. He draws red trails over his own cheeks and chin. Deliberately, he releases the wrists he holds hostage. "If you want it, come and get it."
William flies at him, everything else forgotten, the force of his rush knocking them both to the floor. He doesn't care, so long as he can have more of that elixir. Greedy, hungry, he licks and suckles at Angelus' jaw, his neck, the hollows beneath his cheeks, and the corners of his mouth. He growls, wondering - then bites.
There, there, yes, oh, god, yes! The blood flows so quickly here! In the back of his mind he knows he should fear punishment, but no, for those lips twist in a savage grin beneath his and Angelus' own sharp teeth tear through his skin. The blood bubbles up and it tastes of the woman's sweetness and he cannot get enough, there will never be enough.
His mouth seals over Angelus', sucking hungrily at the lips. He feels the other vampire laugh beneath him, and then the shudder as he bites into his own tongue. Pushing up, he sends a gout of blood into William's mouth. As he gasps, dizzy from the headiness of such a thing, Angelus murmurs: "Come now, a civilized drink. Let's have a taste of yours, little one."
No hesitation. William raises his hand and tears at his own mouth before lowering it again to drink. He groans despite himself - he didn't realize that his own blood would have a taste, that mingled with Angelus' it would make such a heady brew - claret be damned! This, this is the only sup for him, this is all he ever wants for now and ever -
He doesn't feel Angelus' arms lock greedily behind his back, pulling them ever closer together. He only knows the sensation of licking and suckling those lips, drawing that bloody tongue into his own mouth and feeling it twine around his own in a savage dance.
His body is on fire. He has tasted of Drusilla's mouth, but it was never so fierce and vital as this. She has let him lap away leftover drops. Never her own intoxicating liquor. Never has she tasted of his particular essence, devoured it so hungrily as does Angelus. What they share is enough to send him spiraling - but this, this sets his dead body on fire, from fingertip to toe. He writhes along the length of Angelus' body, fingernails digging in, only wanting more, more, more - !
Angelus draws back, gasping for unneeded air. His eyes are wide and unfocused, but struggle for control. He takes William's forearms in a heavy grasp and shakes him. "Now, you see," he murmurs. "Now that you've tasted."
"More," William breathes. "Give it to me."
"That I will. But shh, shh, shh! Not just yet, sweet William." Selfish, he licks away the red droplets on his teeth. "You must understand - it's only life, or that which mimics it, that has a taste for us now."
William whines greedily. He'll have more of Angelus' taste, or perish the second time trying for it.
"Hungry little boy," Angelus whispers. "How I love to see it. Hear it." His hands slide stickily down to William's hips where he grasps them hard, hard enough to press into the muscle, to leave bruises. He thrusts up with all the power in his hips. "Feel it."
And William feels the rock-solid erection inside Angelus' trousers, a great monster of a cock stabbing at him. His own member is just as solid, swollen with borrowed blood, almost pulsing to a remembered beat of shy and shameful fumbling beneath the covers after all else were asleep.
When the two pricks bump hard together, he throws back his head and howls. The pressure - the fire! It burns. He'll crumble into ash -
"Na, na, never fear it." Angelus grasps harder, twists them to the side, rolls - and ends with himself atop William, resting on his forearms. "Do you want another kiss, pretty boy? Do you crave another taste?"
Wild, William nods. He pushes up with his own hips, strains after that bleeding mouth with his own. "And you'll have it," Angelus promises. "But first, I hunger for a sup of finer liquor myself..."
A rough hand slides down the front of his trousers, catching at the straining rod and giving it a sharp pull. "What have we here? William, you surprise me." He squeezes down, yanking foreskin over tip. "Would this be for me?"
William can only thresh his head about. "Taste," he gasps. "More!"
"Ah, not just yet. Patience. All good things to those who wait..."
Clever fingers undo the lacings on his trousers. His prick springs out, engorged to delicious painfulness. To his shock - for he's not seen it this way, yet, since his death - Drusilla is always upon him right away - it gleams in the firelight, dribbling slick, pearlescent strings down the length. Angelus stares at it, eyes feral. "There's one other thing that has a taste, William, my lad," he murmurs. "And I'll drink my fill of it tonight."
And his mouth, that bleeding mouth, drops to engulf William's rod.
The younger vampire roars, his hips lifting off the floor. He can feel himself hit the back of Angelus' throat and slide down, into the tight channel of his throat. He thrusts again and again, sliding his sensitive cock over those sharp teeth, scratching channels into the skin. Angelus sucks ferociously, sweeping over and over with his tongue to catch every drop of juice and blood, swallowing, clutching, his mouth and throat and lips devouring William whole and he. Explodes.
He is as a man struck by lightning, unable to do more than jerk and shake violently as he comes down from that high, feeling Angelus lick and nip at his prick until it slips from his mouth, soft but tingling, bleeding and shining from the saliva he has cleaned it with.
"One more thing that has a taste," the older vampire breathes, crawling up William. "Try it."
William flings his arms around Angelus and draws him tight as possible, eating away at that tempting mouth. He tastes his own salty-sweet bitterness mixed in with the blood and groans, growing hard again - so quickly!
"Now you're getting the right idea," Angelus murmurs. "Now you see what it's all about."
The hand slides down again, between his legs, legs that part for him like a wanton slut's. "That's it, that's it, open for me, boy." Kisses, more kisses than hungry slaverings now, and his thick fingers are poised at William's entrance. Dry. "You like the pain," he whispers onto William's tongue. "You love it. It's your nature."
Wild, William can only nod. One finger is pressing at him and it feels so good, so good -
The finger digs deep inside him. He bucks and howls again, twisting, thrusting himself deeper. Angelus' laugh booms out, utterly delighted. "Little whore! Look at you, so hungry for it!"
William fixes gold eyes on him, and snarls. "More!"
"With fuckin' pleasure, boy. But first I'll be getting these damned nuisances out of the way -" and with a few jerks, William's trousers are pulled away from him, rent into pieces. His own eager hands tug Angelus' pants down. His cock, as broad and long as it felt thrusting against him, looks purple and angry. The slit gapes, pulsing out ribbons of its own.
William whimpers. He wants a taste -
Angelus wraps his own hand around his shaft and strokes once, then lifts a shining finger to William's mouth. "Suck this," he orders. "And bite - !"
With a plunge of his hips, he bursts through William's virgin hole. The pain is so intense, so exquisite that it sends him into a frenzy, screaming and drumming his heels, pulling his thighs back with his own hands and pushing forward. "Deeper," he roars around the finger that he slavers on, gnaws at. "Harder. More!"
"Aye," Angelus snarls, teeth snapping at the thin skin on William's neck, making a pattern of punctures up and down. "More!" He pushes in, dry skin so tight and hard that it tears William open.
Blood, more of the beautiful blood, trickles from him to lubricate the way, and he is thrusting in earnest, pushing hard and fast inside William's arse, filling him up, splitting him in two. His head bangs against the floor and his arms pound the carpet. There is nothing else. There is only the feeling of that cock inside him and the taste of blood and come in his mouth. "More," he growls, thrusting back. "More!"
With a great cry, Angelus sinks his fangs into William's collarbone, snapping down tight. His solid body gives a massive heave, a shudder, and as he empties himself into William's hole William comes again without touching himself, spurting thick gouts up between their bellies, his mind vanishing all away into the whitest of lights...
He comes to a moment later, gasping for breath he does not need. All a-tremble from head to toe. His thoughts, still swimming in the void, wend their way back into his brain like small fish, flickering into place. He cannot connect them - they are a jumble of oh, God! and never felt this way before and full; satiated; satisfied; enough. For now.
Soft laughter comes from his side. He turns his head to see Angelus, lazing on one elbow and staring at him with eyes already sharp, missing nothing. "You see, now, what you are?" he murmurs softly. "You think you are Drusilla's, but you belong to me, beautiful boy. You're mine, and I'll not suffer your leaving. Lovely little slut that you are. Your arse belongs to me, your prick, your balls, your come - all of these are mine."
He strokes down William's naked hip, hand so cold that it stings. William gasps a little, shuddering away. He allowed - permitted - no, begged for, like the wanton that he is called -
"Yes, you did." Angelus dabs at his lip with the ball of one thumb. "And will again. I am your lord and master. I told you this. And now, I think, you must agree..."
His fingers curl around William's cock. "Mine," he snarls. "And the hell if I'm letting you go!"
And William, his gentleman's attire ruined, his hair in wild tangles, his body slick with fluids, realizes what the lesson has been all along. The demon growls softly in the back of his mind, prodding the new knowledge home. Dear God. He has lost himself, hasn't he? He has lost the game. He has lost it all.
"Mine," Angelus repeats, working at William's so-sore, so-sensitive prick, bringing the blood surging back in to fill it. His smile is the one that Lucifer must wear, and his hand never-ceasing. "You won't leave me, boy. You'll never be able to leave me."
With a sinking sensation, William tastes the salt and copper on his tongue and knows what Angelus speaks has now become the truth...
For those Interested:
Sonnet #36
Let me confess that we two must be twain,