Title: The Royal Albert Hotel
He's wandered the last few nights as though in a daze, the death of his mother, the coachman, it all seemed illusion. It's only when he scents the blood that fills the room from wall to wall, blending into deep red carpets and thick velvet curtains, that the reality of his situation begins to sink in. He thinks it's the way Angelus licks at his fingers after tracing over the swollen flesh of his cheek that really sears his fate in. He was able to laugh away Drusilla's comments about the couple of the house, surely they must just be a little drunk, but this…William thinks there can be no denying his plight now. Angelus' gaze is all covet and want, dark irises swelling as his stare burrows into William's body.
The English language has left him. Words of insolence die in his throat as Angelus steers him towards a patch of sun he could never imagine so painful. All that comes out is a half-hearted, "touch me again," and god but he means it. His body screams for the touch. So unlike the woman, Drusilla's fluttering fingers, never still hands that trace over his arms and face. Here the grip is firm, unrelenting, and William finds himself catching breath he's been told repeatedly he no longer needs.
The look of ecstasy that covers this Angelus' face as his skin sizzles is near to unbearable to watch without biting into his lip. William longs to be the one putting that look there, his body crawls with sensations he only could have guessed at in his former life. When he dares put his own hand into the brutal ray again, the powerful excitement returns to Angelus' eyes. It's intoxicating, when strong hands finally push him from the fire William, bringing him into an embrace, full laughter at his ears followed by the soft giggles that seem to follow his Drusilla like children after the ice cart.
His skin boils with emotions, he tries to push his mind past thoughts of death and wondering if a dead man can truly be an orphan. Drusilla looks on her sire as a father figure, and yet Angelus has made no suggestion that he is to be treated thus by him. He has greeted William as a friend, something which he had in short order before his fateful night in Drusilla's arms.