velvetwhip (velvetwhip) wrote in red_magic, @ 2007-06-27 08:30:00 |
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Entry tags: | fic, velvetwhip, willow/angel |
Fic: Escape Me Never (Willow/Angel) 4/10 FRAO/NC-17
Here it is, Chapter Four of Escape Me Never. I hope you all enjoy it!
Gabrielle
Title: Escape Me Never (Chapter Four)
Author: Gabrielle
Pairing: Willow/Angel
Rating: FRAO/NC-17 (for references to rape and explicit sex)
Summary: Willow has a breakthrough and Angel finds out something about his soul.
This was written for the whichwillow ficathon for the prompt: "What if nobody had been there to save Willow when Angelus grabbed her in the hallway?"
Feedback: Please. Thank you.
Distribution: For now, just here and my site. (Oh, and whichwillow, of course)
Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to Joss and a bunch of other people who are not now and have never been me.
Author's Notes: This fic is dedicated, in its entirety, to purplefeen and lilbreck. They know why. Thanks also go to angelskuuipo for her beta skills.
Chapter Four
It was morning again.
Angel kept human hours now. Normalizing Willow’s schedule may have been Jenny and Giles’ idea, but since it benefitted Angel, he was hardly one to complain. It gave him most of Willow’s waking hours all to himself, after all, and meant that she was often asleep by the time the two who’d styled themselves her surrogate parents came by for their nightly chance to invade his home and cast doubts on his care of her. He was glad she didn’t have to endure most of those visits. They always left her agitated, and Angel hated to see her so upset. It was bad enough she had to endure Xander coming by every weekday after school, though those visits had begun to drop off lately, and the whole group descending on her en masse every weekend.
He was happy to see that at least Buffy seemed less inclined lately to inflict her company on the poor girl. Sure, Buffy’s waning interest in playing the supportive friend was more selfish than selfless, but at least it meant she left Willow alone. Didn’t it occur to the rest of them that it might be best for Willow if she had some space to recover before being smothered by their attention? No. Of course it didn’t. They just kept pressing, thinking that they could somehow force Willow to feel the same way about them as before.
A part of Angel that sounded disturbingly like his demon wondered if their hurry to get her back in their clutches was because they were getting sick of doing all the research that Willow had normally taken off their hands. He felt guilty for thinking such things, but it was getting harder and harder to remain convinced that they cared about her as much as he did, not when they seemed determined to take Willow away from him no matter what harm it might do to her, no matter how obvious it was that she didn’t even want to be in the same room with them.
He could feel the beginnings of wakefulness in Willow as she snuggled in close to him, the way she did every morning. She was adorable, like a little girl trying to hold on to a happy dream. Perhaps she was. She never had nightmares when Angel slept next to her, and it made him happy to think that he could give her peace just by being near her. So different than the way things had been without his soul.
Angelus had enjoyed tonight’s dinner. A petite blonde who’d looked rather like Buffy, right down to the sluttish apparel. Of course, she lacked the fight or the flavour of the real thing, but then, not every meal could be *haute cuisine*. And at least dessert was four stars.
Willow was riding him, tiny lines around her eyes and a nearly imperceptible tic in her jaw the only clues that she hated what she was doing, hated pleasing him, hated that it always pleased *her*. It was a bit annoying that she wasn’t fully broken yet, but on the other hand, no hunter mounted the head of a rabbit on his wall. One only boasted of the most hard-won prizes.
She moved up and down on his cock, his hands on her hips as he met each thrust, urging her to pick up the pace. Soon their bodies were slamming together, and she was unable to hold back the cries of pain and pleasure as he took control, moving her as if she were a rag doll astride him. He felt her muscles clenching around his cock as she came, his own orgasm following within a few seconds as he pulled her down to him and bit into the soft, white flesh of her neck.
Now that had been fun, he thought as he moved Willow onto her knees and positioned himself behind her, but he was far from ready to call it a night. After all, even if dinner had been fast food, dessert was meant to be savoured.
Angel moaned softly; his eyes were still closed in reverie as he felt himself being stroked through the silk of his pajama bottoms. It was Willow, he suddenly realized. She was awake now and had obviously noticed his arousal. His eyes shot open. She’d responded the way she was trained to respond to his desire and Angel felt sick.
He sat up quickly and pushed her hand away from his erection, his heart sinking as he saw the look of hurt and confusion on her face. He cupped her face in his hand and caressed her cheek.
“It’s alright, sweetheart. You don’t have to do that anymore. Those things he made you do for him? You don’t have to do them for me. That’s not why you’re here. That’s not why I’m taking care of you.”
She seemed to understand. At least she looked less crestfallen than she had a moment ago. So Angel kissed the top of her head, just as he did every morning, and rose to go make breakfast.
“What would you like this morning, Willow?” Angel asked, as he always did.
As usual, Willow said nothing. She’d started responding occasionally to yes or no questions, but she never volunteered a word and she never said anything that might be construed as a request or a preference of any kind. Still, Angel always asked. Someday she would answer. That would be a wonderful day.
He went down to the kitchen and opened the freezer. Being grateful to Xander Harris was galling, but he had to admit that the boy’s knowledge of modern convenience foods had been a boon. It was pleasant to be able to have a hot meal for Willow ready in less time than it took to choose which one to prepare. He figured they had to taste pretty good, or people wouldn’t eat them, and it was wonderful not to have to leave Willow’s side for very long in order to fix her something to eat.
This morning, however, being quick about things wasn’t as appealing as usual. He needed some time to get his libido under control before heading back upstairs, so he put the frozen pancakes back on the shelf, closed the freezer, and opened the refrigerator instead. Eggs and cheese and butter. Good. He could make an omelet for her.
As he found a pan and turned on the stove burner, he kept his thoughts off of Angelus and his relationship with Willow. But that didn’t mean he could stop thinking about the girl who was waiting for her breakfast upstairs.
It was getting more and more difficult to sleep beside her. Sure, thanks to their keeping this human schedule, he was no longer worried that one of the others would catch him in bed next to her. But that was part of the problem. Without any fear of discovery, he was enjoying the intimacy of their situation too much. Luxuriating in the nearness of the soft, warm body in his bed, he often felt like they were the only two people in the world. Some mornings, waking up with his arms around Willow, he could have sworn he felt every bit as happy as he had after making love to Buffy. It terrified him. And for more reasons than one.
He had strong feelings for Willow, there wasn’t any argument he could think of to convince himself otherwise, and it was all wrong. He had no right to romantic intentions towards the girl he’d pledged to care for after nearly destroying her. He, or at least his demon, had raped and broken her. What right could he possibly have to love her and expect her to love him back?
Then there was the matter of his soul. There was still that horrible “happiness clause” to consider. Jenny had informed him that she and the others had performed the original curse in order to restore his soul, so that barrier to real bliss was still very much in effect. He should have expected that. No mercy to be had from the daughter of the people who had cursed him in the first place. But like it or not, the clause was there, and he would not, could not, allow the curse to be broken again. He couldn’t bear the thought of Angelus getting his hands on Willow once more, and he prayed to a God he hoped would at least hear his pleas on behalf of another that he would protect her, make sure that she hadn’t been rescued from that monster in vain.
He brought his attention back to his task and realized the omelet was done. Thank heavens he’d remembered enough about how to cook that he’d been able to prepare breakfast and brood at the same time. He got a plate down from the cupboard and put the omelet on it, hoping it looked appetizing, and then put it on the tray he would carry to Willow. Then he poured a glass of milk for her and, adding it to the tray, he made his way back upstairs.
Willow looked relieved when he entered the room with her breakfast and Angel chided himself. He should have known it would worry her that he was gone longer than normal. But his self-flagellation soon gave way to delight when he saw the expression on Willow’s face. She looked positively joyful and she was obviously taking in the sight of her breakfast with a great deal of happy anticipation.
“You made me an omelet,” she said softly, but with a kind of childlike awe. “Thank you.”
Angel’s heart soared and he sat next to her, pulling her into a hug and kissing the top of her head reverently.
“I hope you enjoy it, sweetheart. I haven’t made one in a very long time.”
As soon as he let her go, she began to eat, almost wolfing down the food and smiling the whole time. Irrationally, Angel was filled with a hatred for Xander. This moment could have been his ages ago if that idiotic boy hadn’t convinced him that those frozen meals were just as good as homemade. He should have known better. Well from now on, he would cook for Willow. He made a mental note to have some recipe books delivered along with a new grocery order as soon as possible.
Willow had finished her breakfast in a trice and was positively beaming at him. Angel’s heart swelled and broke all at once. He was glad he had made her so happy. At the same time, he felt terrible that her life had come to a point where she was so heartrendingly grateful for a small thing like an omelet. Still, her smile was a beautiful thing, like what he imagined sunshine to be, and he couldn’t help but bask in its radiance.
He put the tray down on the floor and lay back on the bed next to Willow. He would take the dishes down later. For now, he wanted to stay here with the woman he had only just admitted to himself that he loved, enjoying the best moments she’d undoubtedly had since he’d lost his soul. And it wasn’t surprising, considering his natural inclination to rest at this time of day, that he soon fell sound asleep with Willow’s head pillowed against his chest.
Angelus snarled as he stormed up the stairs to his room. Tonight had not gone well. Just when he’d decided to step things up against The Slayer, the bitch had to go and find a spell to revoke his invitation to her home. Damn her. Her mother’s blood would have been delicious, he was sure, and draining the clueless woman would have been the perfect way to let Buffy know that Sunnydale was *his*. Wouldn’t you know someone had monkey-wrenched things for him, just as he was about to step up the game and make it interesting at last? It was probably Giles’ handiwork. The stuffy old codger couldn’t let *anyone* have any fun.
He was in a lousy mood when he entered his bedroom, but at least the cure for what ailed him lay sleeping on the bed just a few scant feet away. Those experts who said that having a pet was a great way to relieve stress knew what they were talking about, that was for sure. Because playing with *his* pet always seemed to make him feel calmer and less irritable. Well, he needed some of that stress relief right now.
“Willow,” he singsonged. “Wakey-wakey. Daddy’s home.”
She stirred and sat up, the sheet that covered her falling to her waist, exposing her breasts to his hungry gaze.
“Did you miss me?”
She didn’t answer. Not that he expected her to - after all, she wasn’t completely broken in yet - but her eyes and demeanor proffered no contradiction. The girl had learned that much, at least, and learned it well. Good girl.
“Undress me.”
He didn’t have to ask twice. She got up from the bed quickly and came to him, her nudity still an intoxicating sight despite his familiarity with it. He felt himself harden; obedience was such a turn-on. The way her fingers worked the buttons of his shirt, the feel of her soft hands on his chest. He groaned as her hands moved to unfasten his trousers, watched her sink slowly to her knees as she pushed his pants down . . . Yes, indeed, he thought, as Willow’s mouth engulfed his cock, there was nothing like a well-trained pet to take the edge off a bad night.
He awoke, or he thought he did, but he was still dreaming. He had to be, for he could still feel Willow’s mouth on his cock, could feel the brush of her hair against his thighs, could feel the softness of her hand as she caressed his sac. But it felt different somehow, less like a memory of her time with Angelus and more like it was happening to him.
It only took him a moment longer to realize that it felt different because he wasn’t dreaming. Dear God. Willow’s mouth really was on his cock, and it was so much more glorious than any dream. His memories couldn’t hold a candle to her actual skills, her perfection, the ecstasy she could give. For a moment, his brain shouted at him to stop this, screamed that his soul was in grave peril, but then he was lost. Lost in that warm, wet mouth. Lost in the incredible, wonderful, damning sensations she created. And he gave himself over to her. His hands tangled in her hair, urging her on, his hips bucking up to meet each downward stroke of her mouth. He had never known this much pure sexual bliss.
He wanted it to last forever, but the pleasure was far too great for him to hold back his release for very long. Willow swallowed greedily, milking him of every drop he could possibly give. She looked at him with the most innocent expression as he collapsed, gloriously sated, and closed his eyes. This was the most content and happy he had ever felt and he reveled in the sensations still thrumming through his body.
And then it hit him. Perfect happiness. His soul. He was about to lose his soul.
He pulled Willow up and looked at her, his eyes wild with fear.
“What did you do?” he cried, shaking her.
He hated himself the moment the words left his mouth. How could he blame her? She was only doing what his demon had forced her to learn to do, what had been drilled into her with ruthless efficiency. She had “thanked” him in the way she had been taught. And he had let her. He should have known this would happen after what had gone on earlier, but he’d taken it for granted that she’d believed him when he’d told her that he didn’t expect, didn’t want her to serve him that way. Obviously she hadn’t. Because she had sensed the truth, that deep down, he had wanted this, and she had acted accordingly.
He’d as good as raped her, he realized that now. This hadn’t been an act of mutual pleasure between two consenting partners. This had been him taking gratification from a girl who’d been damaged and broken and trained to perform. There was no excuse for what he had done. He could have, should have stopped her. But he hadn’t. He had used her the same way Angelus had, and now his selfishness had condemned Willow to a life as Angelus’ pet for as long as that demon desired, and condemned the others to a certain and gruesome death.
Angel held Willow close. She was crying, thinking he was angry with her.
“Shhh, sweetheart. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault.” He whispered the words over and over as his own tears fell. Soon, his soul would be gone forever. All he could do was wait for the pain to come. The pain that was Willow’s certain doom.
He waited.
And he waited.
The pain never came.
And his soul never left him.
Jenny Calendar had lied to him. The curse she had performed had no clause. Angel need never fear happiness again. The problem was, he didn’t deserve it. Not now.
How ironic was it that he had lost his soul during an act of mutual affection and love and kept it while using the girl his demon had nearly destroyed?
He wondered what should he do about Willow now. Should he send her away? Give her over to Jenny Calendar? Even though she had lied to him, and despite his own misgivings about the way she and the others behaved towards his charge, he knew that she cared about Willow. Would Willow be safer with Jenny?
Angel stayed lost in thought for several minutes and, as he calmed down after the tumult of the last few minutes, he began to consider things more dispassionately. He concluded that, in spite of recent events, keeping Willow with him was really the best course of action. What happened had been wrong, certainly. But in his own defense, he had been asleep and could hardly be expected to be rational, waking up to what Willow was doing to him. He would just explain things more clearly, be more firm and emphatic when reiterating that she was not his sexual plaything any longer. That would solve the problem of a repeat performance, he was certain.
After all, Willow had made stunning progress today. Speaking up and expressing a preference for something for the first time, he knew, since before his soul had been restored. All that could be undone if he sent her to live with Jenny, who she didn’t trust the way she trusted him. No, there was much more to be lost than gained by changing Willow’s circumstances right now. All he needed to do was set the ground rules with more authority, make sure he wasn’t sending out mixed signals, and above all, exercise restraint and self-control. Then all would be well. Surely, once he’d helped her recover completely, she would forgive him for today. And maybe, that dark voice inside him whispered, she would do it again.
Tbc...