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Title: Riley Walks
Author: a very abashed Winterlive
Feedback: Well of freaking COURSE.
Content/Warnings: See above, re: ALL. All of 'em.
Rating: NC-17 (or XXX, however you prefer.)
Disclaimer: ME owns everything. Y'know, that's pretty inspecific. Can't we find a different way to abbreviate Mutant Enemy, so it doesn't read 'me' in caps? I could just be really bad at grammar.
Note: If you don't know what happens in BtVS 4x20: The Yoko Factor and in AtS 1x17: Eternity, this will make absolutely no sense. Brush up. Links are provided.

Riley walks.

The streets are empty, since anyone with sense doesn't go out after dark in a town like this. Crickets chirp. It's about midnight.

Riley walks.

He doesn't remember ever being in this part of town before. It's fairly deserted, mostly industrial - abandoned warehouses and factories way on the outskirts of town. Before, when he was part of the Initiative, patrol had usually taken him around potential feeding areas. After dark, this kind of place doesn't see much action, even in Sunnydale

Riley walks.

His head is swimming with Buffy. She always does this. Her ex-boyfriend (who's probably evil, no matter what she says, and is definitely a demon either way) comes to town and kicks a serious amount of good guy ass, including Riley's own. And when Riley tried to defend her, not to mention himself, she left the room with her ex so they could talk... in private. This after she's just been to see him in L.A. and came back dragging emotional baggage in a five-piece matched set behind her. Any guy'd get a little crazy after that. But when he asks her, straight out, to tell him if she's still in love with him, she acts like it's his bad for even asking. As if he's got no right to question her, no matter how crazy she gets, no matter how useless he ends up feeling. And then she climbs up on his lap, with her deceptive softness and sweet talk, and thought goes right off the radar. He wishes she'd just be straight with him.

He paces down another alley, stalking on silent feet, just to keep in practice. Might be a vampire around here, he thinks, idly. Decent place for a nest.

Even in his head it sounds hollow, like words he made up to make himself feel better about wandering around for no reason. He sneers at his own stupid thinking in the darkness. Sure, Finn. That's why you're in the middle of a nowhere in peak evil hours. Because they might be here, instead of out hunting for a meal.

He stands there in the alley, all his gear weighing heavy on his sore shoulders, realizing he's totally alone - no big bad to fight, not even a new-risen vampire to justify his being here. He feels dejected and dumb as he sits down on a nearby crate, tucks his nightstick into his boot and leans back against the wall.

For the millionth time in the last month, he wonders if he's doing the right thing, leaving the people who gave him strength and purpose and going to fight with Buffy. We're like a comic book. She's Superman and I'm Lois Lane. Only I'm the country boy from Iowa and she's the one with all the sophistication and beauty and big, brooding guys who show up in the middle of the night and assault my men and manage to kick my ass without too much trouble.

Again, he plays that scene over in his mind - the punches, the kicks, the sound thrashing he took from the cool fists and stupid, billowy coat. Angel, his mind growls, the name seething across his brain the same way it has since he first heard it. Might as well have been Xander out there, for all the good I did against one, single vampire. Two months ago, I'd have dusted that bastard before he could turn around.

He hears it in his head again, Angel's voice in the alley. Riley'd expected it to be vicious, slick, insinuating. Like Spike, he realizes, eyes widening a little. Instead, Angel's voice was lower, richer. He didn't bluster - when Angel threatened, he meant every word. Riley feels again how the word 'boy', coming from Angel's mouth, is so uncomfortable, so meaningful - Riley doesn't want to think about that, and he'd pay anything to never hear it again.

He shudders in the alley, suddenly cold. He's sore and really pretty injured, still, and he smirks as he thinks to himself that he'd better get back to the perfectly safe Hellmouth and sleep. He pulls himself up wearily from the crate and turns in the direction he came.

He doesn't get one step. His foot hasn't actually lifted from the pavement before he hears it.

Laughter.

Low, rich tenor, ethereal and so chilling he actually shivers.

He turns slowly. His mind is red and black, swirling with rage and fear, because he knows what's happening. His senses sharpen, adrenaline floods his system. Still moving slowly, only an inch at a time, he reaches one hand around his back. If he moves faster, he'll attract attention, and the vampire out there might not know exactly where he is yet. In the holster attached to his belt at the small of his back, Riley can feel the weight of the gun, heavy and comforting.

There's nothing moving, and he keeps his head still, alert for any sound or flash of light. Again comes the chilling, quiet laughter, a little higher this time, a little gleeful. It echoes down between the tall, oily black walls, and there's no telling exactly where it came from. The light from the streetlamps filters through the grates on the fire escapes, cold and still, but Riley's blood is boiling. He can almost feel the textured grip of the gun on his fingertips. Just one more inch.

There.

His fingers tighten around the heavy pistol, and he's just starting to pull it from its holster when a big, heavy body slams into him from behind. He tries to pull out the gun or move it, to get off some kind of shot, but inhumanly strong fingers are clamped around his wrist, and he can't move it. The wall comes up fast, and he feels the impact shudder through his bones as he crashes into it - it hurts like a bitch, and he growls in pain through clenched teeth.

"Hello, Riley."

That voice purrs into his ear, smug as a cat in the cream, and there's no question. It's him.

"Angel," Riley grates, furious and terrified all at once.

"Not exactly," comes the flippant reply. And then pain rips through his body, the buzzing sound of his taser crackling in his ears as the world goes black.

His training keeps him still as he wakes up. He's seated in a high backed chair and he's tied there. He's naked; all his clothes and gear are gone. He fakes being unconscious and tries to breathe, hoping against hope that Angel's not in the room and that he can slow his heartbeat before the vampire's enhanced hearing can detect that he's awake.

"No such luck, soldier boy."

Shit. Riley's shoulders slump a little. There was that 'boy' again, and though it wasn't quite the same, it was close enough. He lifts his head and opens his eyes. His mind starts preparing itself for the torture to come, since that's what naked inevitably means.

"I knew you were evil." He glares at nothing, eyes registering the long, charred dining table in front of him, the burnt-out factory behind it, but not really seeing.

Angel laughs, the sound harsh and cruel. "That's what they all say," he sighs, and lightly seats himself on the table right in front of Riley's chair. He leans down, so they're face to face, but Riley just glares right through him.

"Y'know, Riley, I'll tell you something. You're not that bad. In fact, I kind of like you. So I'm going to help you." He smiles, and Riley's insides want to shiver with revulsion, but he won't let them. "See, Buffy? She's a hell of a girl - smart, funny, wicked with an axe - y'know, your average little firecracker. But she needs... how do I put this? Something special. I know, y'know? I've been there..." He licks his lips, smiling a little; he glances upward at the ceiling, and he looks like an incubus fresh from hell. Riley's got to bite his own lips to keep from snarling at him, from struggling against bonds he knows are unbreakable. You can't have her! his mind shrieks.

Angel looks at him again. When he speaks, his voice is quiet, is deadly serious. "But that's not the point, is it? The point, Riley, is that you can't give her what she needs. She doesn't need you, and she never will."

Now he can't stop himself. "What would you know about it?" He's looking at Angel, right into his black eyes. Riley's never been this angry, never. His voice tears out of his throat as he talks, low and quiet and furious.

"About not being needed? You don't even know, boy." Angel starts pacing. "A couple weeks ago, he meets this actress, and she drugs him. For one blissful, shining second, I was free. Free!" He clenches his fists and rounds on Riley, voice rising. "And then the fucking thing wears off and I'm back in a fucking box in the back of his brain, shunted away like so much garbage. That asshole needs me, and he doesn't even know how much. Fucking puppy-saver."

Riley's totally flabbergasted. What the hell is he talking about?

Angel starts walking off again, talking out loud, though Riley's not really a hundred percent sure the ranting's directed at him. "Kicker of it is, though, when it’s all done he actually feels a little better, if that's even possible, big brooding pile of soul. And then you showed up in that alley, and all the screaming and moaning and crying with the cheerleader got him wound so tight he figured he'd better do something before he popped." Angel turns again, and he's wearing a pure, beatific smile. "An upper and a glass of water later, and we're in the middle of nowhere, miles from a decent meal, and I get to come out to play."

Angel starts to walk toward the chair where Riley's tied. His stride is slow and casual, and he's still smiling. "Who would have thought you'd be out by the old homestead? Fate's smiling on me today, boy, because I like being out. I don't know how long this'll last this time, but I think it's a great idea, what rat-boy has going on here, and I'm going to encourage it." Angel's eyes began to wander. Riley watched them travel over every inch of his bared skin, Angel's intent clearly written on his face.

Riley froze. He can't mean...

"Here's the thing, Riley. Perfect, all-American boy that you are, you might be just a little too straight an arrow." Angel's voice purrs out of him, close to Riley's ear, coming in like low tide, seeping into Riley's brain like an oil slick over water. It's seductive. Riley can't move. "It's probably what's keeping Buffy with you now, how perfect you are. Open, honest face, big manly muscles, good shape, nice cock. Bet you played a mean game of football back in Oregon or Indiana or wherever the hell you're from. You were probably the quarterback, probably fucked the prom queen in the back of your daddy's car." He chuckles, the demon in him clear as day. "But things are different now, boy. You're on the Hellmouth, and your darling girlfriend's the heir to an ancient power. You're not quite as perfect as you think you are, and Buffy's gonna see that. And when she does, she'll drop you like a bad habit, and then maybe... just maybe... Angel will let me out again. I'll be just as helpful as his pretty little secretary, and then I'll get out again... and again." Closer and closer, the mouth to his ear, the purring voice, the lack of body heat where there should definitely be body heat. "And then, one day, he'll slip. And I'll be out. Permanently. And believe me when I say that you have no idea how long I've wanted that son of a bitch gone."

Riley turns his face to Angel's. They're a hair's breadth away from one another. "What makes you think, for one second, that I'd help you do anything?"

Angel grins. It's predatory, and as Riley watches, he can see Angel's eyes start to turn gold.

"That's the best part, Riley. You don't have a choice."

The fangs drop down, and Angel's head darts in, and Riley can't help it. He shuts his eyes. He can't face it.

But there's nothing. No pain.

He lets his eyes open, just a little, and sees something that he'll remember for the rest of his life: the top of Angel's head, about in the middle of his chest.

Dropping downward.

"What the fuck are you doing?" His voice is shrill, he hears that. He knows it sounds hysterical. But he can't stop.

Angel looks up at him, demon's face grinning up. "What's it look like, boy?"

Riley lets his head fall backward. He stares at the ceiling, shaking his head like an idiot. This isn't happening.

Then he feels a cool, wet tongue slide along the muscular ridges of his stomach, and he explodes into action, thrashing and struggling against his bonds, desperate to get free. Angel lays his arms on Riley's thighs as he bucks and twists, smiling at him. Riley makes a final effort, straining as hard as he can against the ropes, even though they burn and he can feel the skin tearing.

But they don't give, and Riley slumps down.

"Shh, there, there." Cool fingertips trace over his chest. "It's useless to fight. You'll only hurt yourself."

"This won't work. I'll tell Buffy, and..."

Angel burst out laughing. Riley stops, realizing the instant he thinks about it how stupid that is. Buffy'd never believe this, not in a million years.

Still chuckling, Angel looks up at him. "Oh, that's good. Tell me another one." Angel strokes one of Riley's thighs with those fingertips that make goosebumps rise on Riley's skin.

"You better kill me when you're done, because I'll find you. I will track you down and I will kill you, I promise you that." Riley's teeth grit together as he speaks, and his fists clench behind his back. His eyes burn as he glares into Angel's.

Angel's demonic face looks almost wistful. "Believe me, Riley, if I thought it'd help..." His fingers trace little circles on Riley's leg, and the muscles there twitch. "But the fact is, this isn't permanent. Soon I'll be out of the driver's seat, and if I kill you, he'll get all miserable and angsty and we'll never try this little experiment again. And we can't have that... now, can we?"

The fingers brush up Riley's leg, ride along the crease of his hip, and Riley struggles again, helpless, knowing it won't do any good but he can't just sit there. He can feel his blood pulsing through him, and his fear starts to rise. He's used everything he can think of, and Angel just won't back down. He's obviously insane, and this isn't looking like torture so much as something that Riley's brain just flat-out refuses to think about.

Angel's eyes close and he moves his head closer as he scents the air. "You're afraid. God, it smells so good." His head moves down again, ignoring Riley's struggles, and Riley can hear Angel breathing in, inhaling the scent of him. He can feel the cool air rush over his skin as Angel breathes out, and it tingles against him. He doesn't want it to, but it does.

He feels Angel's tongue slide against his stomach again, lower down this time, tasting him. He jumps at that, and realizes he's stopped struggling.

No! he yells at himself, Snap out of it! He struggles some more, but then come the hands on his thighs, and the tongue again, a little further down, and he's so shocked, so completely at a loss for what to do or what he should be thinking that he just stares at the dark head in his lap, the pale hands on his thighs, and wonders what the hell he was thinking to come out here tonight.

Until Angel's cool tongue brushes against the head of his cock, and he realizes that he doesn't know when or how it happened, but it's rock-hard and dripping. That's such a shock that he forgets to be revolted, or turned on for that matter, and just stares.

Angel looks up at him again, and he just stares back at the vampire. "Relax, boy. I want you to like this. I want you to want it, so you'll want it again and again."

Riley just shakes his head. This makes no sense.

"You won't get it, though," Angel grins. "No matter how far you go, how low you let yourself sink, this is the only time you'll ever feel like this."

And then his dick is surrounded by slick, cool tightness, and he tries to fight it, he really does. Angel's tongue slides up and down the underside of him, tracing along the vein, sucking at him, pulling softly, and delicate fingers are tracing over the soft skin at his hip, and it's fucking bliss, like nothing has ever, ever been before, and a heavy groan bursts from Riley's throat.

The hands at his hips clutch him tightly and slide him forward, which he fights, but he's sore from the fight and tied to the fucking chair, so it's useless. He stops fighting. That gets him an mmming sound of approval, which travels right through his cock and into his brain. He twists and writhes, pushing with his hips, mindlessly trying to get further into Angel's mouth. It's fucking heaven, the tight circle of Angel's lips, the tongue that dances all over him, circling and teasing and flicking, and his brain's just completely shut down, like it's on some kind of autopilot. He knows he should fight, but he can't. He just does as he's told, and his mind refuses to think about it anymore.

Angel sucks at the tip of his cock, opening and closing his lips, and the whoosh of air over the wet skin makes Riley shudder. Then he feels Angel's elegant fingers someplace that nothing should ever go, brushing over him very gently, and he has to struggle at that, just has to. He bucks away, but that only sends him up into Angel's mouth, and as he rises up, Angel's head descends. The sensation of Angel swallowing his cock, thrusting into the cool throat, makes Riley forget why he was struggling. He can hear a voice echoing off the rafters of the old factory, a moaning voice that breaks exactly where Angel swallows him again, and Riley's a little surprised that he can make sounds like that.

The fingers slide over his hole again, and Riley doesn’t even bother to wonder how they got so slippery, how they massage sliding wetness into his skin. He tries to move away from them, but his body inexplicably chooses to interpret I want to go away from that as move toward it. He feels the tip of one finger enter him, and he's whimpering now as Angel licks at the tip of his cock. He's keyed up, on edge, and feels like he'll explode or burst or maybe come as Angel slides just the tiniest bit of one finger in and out of him. It's not painful, and Riley thinks that it would be, except for all the slick all over that finger, and the fact that Angel's tongue on him is sending huge jolts of pleasure throbbing through his body.

A little more now, a little thicker, fuller. Angel lifts his head away and wraps his free hand around Riley's cock, starts stroking him in time with the finger sliding in and out of his ass. Stars are circling on the edges of his vision, the pleasure's so intense. He can hear Angel's voice praising him and deriding him at the same time, calling him a good boy and asking him if this is what they do in their spare time at the barracks, with cruel laughter in his voice. Riley can't answer him, can only try to spread his knees further, to get more of what he feels.

The fingers stroking his cock tighten; Angel's pleased with that. Riley's breath is sobbing in and out of him now, he's making sounds like huh, huh, unhhh, and he can feel wetness on his cheeks. Angel's sliding his whole finger in and out now, and Riley feels the tightness and slight burn as his virgin muscles give for the first time against that kind of pressure. Angel calls him a sweet little slut and pushes a second finger into him, and Riley cries out. He's so close now, the pressure so much, he just needs...

Angel's fingers slide down his cock again and make a tight, tight circle at the base, holding him firm. And then, somewhere inside him, Angel's fingers push against a certain spot, and Riley's mind bursts into a thousand shards. He comes, harder than he ever has, harder than he knew his body could, everything tense and shaking, bliss pouring through him, roaring to the ceiling.

Finally, he comes back to himself, and it's absolutely impossible, but he feels exactly the same as he did before. Everything's on edge, his cock's as hard as granite, and his balls tingle with the need to come. He doesn't know how... and then he feels Angel's fingers let go of the base of his cock and Riley realizes how the reset happened. He didn't know he could do that, and the knowledge makes him whine, looking down at Angel, pleading with his eyes.

Somewhere deep inside himself, he knows this is wrong. He just can't help it.

Angel grins at him and pulls his wrists forward. Riley's again shocked - his bonds have been released. Angel stands, pulls Riley out of the chair and starts walking. Riley follows dumbly, walking as carefully as he can. His whole body tingles, even the pads of his feet as he walks. They go only a short distance to a pallet of red and black blankets and pillows in a corner of the room, and Angel pushes Riley down on them, making him kneel on the pillows. Riley kneels, mute.

He's ashamed. He should be able to fight this. He's not even tied down anymore. Despair pours through him, and behind him, Angel groans lustfully as the scent fills the air.

He feels the pillows behind him give as Angel kneels down on them. Then a cool hand on his shoulder pushes him forward and he drops down on his hands. Angel's hand slides down his back and over his ass, leaving tingling in its wake. Riley drops forward again, forehead on his arms, ass high in the air.

Angel groans again, and Riley feels bitter satisfaction. If I can't help myself, you can't either, you son of a bitch. He feels Angel's naked hips press against him, bare cock riding along the cleft of his ass. Riley can't remember when Angel undressed and doesn't care. He just lets his head rest on his forearms, lets his eyes close.

Then, a stinging slap lands on his ass, and he jumps as the crack fills the air, eyes popping open.

"I don't know why you're so easy, bitch, but it works for me." Another slap, and he feels the blood rise in his skin, heating him, making Angel's fingers feel cold as they massage the stinging skin. "God, you're fucking beautiful, look at you. Gonna fuck you, boy. Gonna fuck your tight virgin ass six ways from Sunday." Slap. "Dirty little slut. Push back against me."

Riley hesitates, some tiny part of his own psyche left, and it's just a fraction of a second before the next slap lands, harder this time. "Do as you're told." Riley pushes back, pushes into Angel's cock. Angel's fingers stroke him again. "Good boy."

The pressure at his ass leaves him for a moment, and he hears a clicking sound. A moment passes and he can feel his body, open to the air around it. Every inch is hot against the cool air, every bit of him throbs. He needs to come, can feel it pulsing in him, and he'd beg to be touched, but he's sure it wouldn't do any good, and he's too ashamed besides. So he lays there, buries his head in his arms and waits for Angel to finish whatever the hell he's doing.

Something blunt and hard nudges at his sensitive hole and he moans into the soft fabric beneath him. Angel's slathered in lube and he pushes, gently, until the very tip of his cock is edging into Riley. The vampire's cock is cool, and Riley's thankful for that, because it's soothing against the burn. Strong hands massage his lower back, and he can hear Angel murmuring above him, soothing him. He tries to relax, and Angel pushes a little harder. The head pops in and he groans loudly, breathing harsh in the still air.

Then comes another stinging slap. Riley yelps and jumps again, and Angel roars above him, the demon clearly sounding in his voice. He pushes further, insistent now, going slow but hard, and Riley knows this is it. It's painful and he whimpers, and then he feels Angel's slick fingers grip the shaft of his cock and he forgets the pain and pushes into Angel's hips.

That does it.

Angel slings his hips fully against Riley's, burying himself to the hilt. Riley cries out and Angel pulls out, only to drive forward again. The hand on Riley's cock begins to stroke up, and when the clever fingers reach the head, they dance and tease and squeeze and Riley just throws himself back and forth, desperate for more, more, more.

Angel's one free hand takes Riley by the shoulder and pulls him upright, which only makes it tighter. He strokes Riley's cock and thrusts into him, and the new angle makes him hit the spot deep inside that makes Riley see stars, and suddenly everything's swirling together and Riley can't see anymore and there's two voices echoing in the rafters. Riley can feel it all building, and he knows this will be different than anything ever. He reaches one hand back and takes Angel by the back of the neck, pulling him in, pushing back against him, and everything's tighter and closer and almost, almost there oh God oh God...

And then he feels the fangs sink into his shoulder.

And he comes.

He comes for what feels like days. It's like dying. He thinks that everything he is has left him, either jetting from his cock into Angel's hand, or pulsing from his neck into Angel's mouth. He understands in this moment how much Angel needs him, how special it is to share this with him. That nothing will ever be the same, now.

And his world goes black.

When he comes back to himself, Riley’s alone. It can’t be much later, because he can see the moon through the windows, and it’s still high, as it was earlier. He’s covered with a blanket, though he’s still naked. He feels sticky and dirty, and his whole body is tired and sore and worn out. In a couple of places that he doesn’t want to think about, his pulse throbs, insistent and unable to be ignored.

He picks himself up and looks himself over, moving limbs, checking for pain. He’s not injured, so far as he can tell. His clothes are stacked neatly on a chair beside him, and if he looks over by the long, blackened table, he can see the ropes he was bound with.

He’s empty now. He feels that. Tired of fighting, tired of not knowing what’s happening. He’s not sure who he is anymore.

In the depths of the old factory, he finds a shower. Probably for chemical burns, but it works okay, and that’s such a blessed relief he doesn’t have words. He turns his back to the shower, and as the hot water runs down him, he winces as it streaks in salty rivulets over the red pair of punctures on his shoulder.

When he’s done and dressed, he leaves the factory. He’s not far from where he was patrolling earlier, so he decides to walk for a while.

Riley walks.

His path takes him more places he’s never been. Back to the Initiative, but the Initiative isn’t what he thought it was. To Adam and his psychotic surrogate mother’s ideas about what would make him a better man, and out of that place, into the light again, where everything seems somehow dimmer.

Riley walks.

Late at night where nobody can see him, he finds places where things seem brighter. They’re reminders, after a while, when he can think of that night again. Feels fangs in his arm, in the crook of his elbow. In the sensitive skin just above his belly, and on his thigh. Angel was right. It was never quite the same. He’ll go the rest of his life, through Buffy, and finally into the jungle, before he finds himself again. But he’ll never be the same.

Riley walks.