The Grey Area

Part 1: Prisoner


He likes it when the vampire fights.

He loves to see those blue eyes flash defiance, to see the jaw go rigid as he visits attention upon the beautiful creature. To stroke and stroke until the creamy chest rises and falls with vigor, and leather-bound wrists twist and pull against their restraints, hands clenched and arms straining.

He knows that the vampire thinks himself purely heterosexual, at least for this decade. But he's sure the demon's deviant nature found him in a few situations in his past where he engaged in same-sex relations of erotic nature. And without a doubt at least one of those instances involved the mighty Angelus.

But there is no love between the two vampires now -- their emotions appear to vary from seething hatred to grudging respect, at best. The younger vampire, Spike, could never know for certain the exact place he stands with the demon Angelus has become. And Ambrus fully intends to use that to his advantage.

It's a few days into the vampire's captivity, and the grand threats and vulgar obscenities have finally quieted down some. It helped to constantly have the vampire under threat of being shut up with one of the largest gags in his arsenal. The first time he had forced the vampire to wear it, the blue eyes had watered with the intense pain of the jaw being stretched so wide. Any human would have suffocated to death from it, but the vampire could only suffer it in silence.

The same blue eyes are now following his every move as he paces. Spike's expression is dark and angry with just a hint of wariness. The vampire is kneeling naked on the hard, stone floor, his arms bound behind his back in a harness of straps that reaches from his wrists to upper arms and wraps around his chest and abdomen in several places. It keeps his arms tightly against his body, and ensures that there'll be no escape or dangerous fighting from the prisoner. There's also a locking leather collar with three D-rings buckled around his neck, a short thick-linked chain leading from the front ring to the floor. It clinks as the vampire shifts, then pulls taut, not even allowing him to sit up all the way.

"He sold you out, you know." Ambrus says conversationally, leaning against a table to admire the way the light from the flames of the fireplace make the vampire's body give off a golden glow. "Angel. Guess you got to be too much of a nuisance for him."

Spike only continues to glare. It makes a smile come onto the man's face. The vampire's not cowed by a long shot, but then that's not what he's really here to do. Of course, no need to tell Spike that. "Oh-ho, if looks could kill... But I am telling the truth."

The man pushes himself off of the table and approaches the captive. He likes the way Spike's lip moves into a snarl of bared teeth as he comes near, the way the eyes flash yellow in warning. It's a useless effort at intimidation, made clear when the man reaches out to take a fistful of white-blond locks.

"Heard you got into a bit of a scuffle with your old sire. Or grandsire, or whatever it is you're calling him these days. You seem to change your mind about that almost as much as your orientation."

The man's smile widens as he reaches down to grasp the pale and thick cock hanging limply between the vampire's legs. He makes sure to keep his eyes on the his captive's face as he begins his long, pulling motions. Watches the way Spike gives a couple of shallow breaths through his nose, twisting his arms within their confinement.

"Might be the fact that there's so much acceptance these days with the homosexual crowd, especially in these parts. Not considered such a sin by some -- did that take all of the fun out of it for you?" He glances pointedly at the vampire's genitals, knowing that Spike is resisting any reaction to the stimulation with all his might. He's only succeeding a little. "Is that why your good ol' daddy hates you so much, now? Hates you so much that he'd pay good money to have you taken out of his hair."

"Fuck you." The words are growled out from a tense jaw, and the vampire gives a hard jerk against the hand in his hair. A severe tightening of the hand around his half-erect penis is enough to make him still his struggles with a hiss.

The man doesn't let up his painful squeeze for a few more moments, driving home the fact that Spike's will has no meaning here. Then slowly he loosens his hand enough to once again continue fisting the vampire's cock. His thumb catches a bit of pre-cum and he uses it to begin slicking the length.

"To coin a cliché response to that -- well, you know the answer." He emphasizes his sentence by speeding up the movements of his hand over the stiffened organ. "Anyway, back to what I was saying. He wanted you good and gone, and he wanted it done discretely, so his little buddy-pack wouldn't have any reason to suspect it was him. Not that it would have taken much. You're still the outcast, Spike. Still the one who doesn't fit in. So, naturally, you were taken out easily."

Spike's making little groaning growls now, his nostrils flaring as his body is made to enjoy the attentions visited upon it. The man knows it's only massive willpower that has him keeping himself from thrusting into the hand manipulating him. The smooth chest of his victim gleams with sweat, the black supple leather of his bonds holding him in an unyielding embrace.

"G-Gave your boys a r-run for their money, di'n't I?" Spike grits out, struggling to focus. He's nearing the edge now.

Ambrus raises his eyebrows. "You did. Let it never be said that William the Bloody went down without a fight. Still..."

A few particularly hard pulls and the vampire arches his back with a whimper, cum spilling onto the stone floor between them. Ambrus strokes the vampire's length through the receding tremors of his orgasm, smiling.

"You did eventually go down."