Thralls

Title: Thralls, chapter 11


Xander screamed when Angel grabbed him. He couldn't help it. Every calm bone in his body, every resolution and promise he had made with himself to remain calm, morphed into pure panic.

His heart rate soared, his muscles clenched, he clawed at the vampire restraining him, shoved, and struck out, desperate to get away, to not be a part of *this*, whatever this was. What it was going to be. He wanted to hide, to crawl under the large bed, to curl up in a dark corner, protected by walls and the barrier of the mattress over his head. Hide until the threat was gone.

But, Angel didn't let him go. Held him. Angel smiled, a feral, hungry smile, and Xander lost the last bit of his tenuous control.

They hit the bed together, Xander on his back, Angel's arms like steel around him, squeezing, python tight, holding him, letting Xander tear at him, most blows sliding off without harm, some finding purchase, and rending the vampire's skin. Angel smiled, snarled his delight, without loosening his hold. Wanting the fight, the victory he could sense, the anticipation, sweet on his tongue.

A strong thigh worked it's way between Xander's legs, not stopped by his struggles. Moving up, forcing his legs wider apart, joined by the second of the vampire's thighs, and to Xander it didn't matter if he was still dressed. He screamed and shouted and begged wordlessly, the pure terror filling him to overflowing. He was being held down, he was being spread open, he was being forced. By a man. Again. Raped. Again. But he wasn't young. And he wasn't small any more. He wasn't weak. He wasn't helpless. He was going to fight this. He was going to kill. It wasn't going to happen again.

Angel wrapped himself around Xander. And Xander fought like a wild, desperate thing to get free. The struggle was exactly the wrong thing to do. A vampire is a predator. When the prey struggles, the predator is entranced, driven to greater and greater lengths to secure the prey, to win, to overcome, to feast.

Angel was excited to feel the writhing, squirming frantic creature in his arms. Adrenaline tore through his body, as he fought to subdue his prey. His gameface fell into place, his fangs dropped, and he sank them into Xander's neck, ripping deep.

Someone outside was shouting, thumping on the door.

Xander howled. Full throated, inhuman, mournful and enraged, terrified. Not a sound that could come from any true man's throat. The pounding on the door hesitated, then after a long pause, resumed, louder even that before, more hands and feet than before, more people trying to get in.

Riley stared in horror at Xander and Angel on the bed, Graham stared, drawing in huge breaths, unmoving for an instant, watching together, the mass of arms and legs. The talons and teeth...on *both* combatants. Xander Harris, whatever he was, was not merely human. Oh. Fuck.

Xander screamed again. He used every ounce of his terrified strength to fight. All the lycanthrope power of being a hyena, he was nearly holding his own against the older vampire. There was someone pounding on the door, urgently, with fists and feet from the sound of it. Xander heard it, distinctly, someone who would help? Or someone who wanted to share? Yelling. Demanding that the door be opened. Someone who would hurt him, too.

"No way." Graham thought. "Not adding more confusion to this mix. If they get through the door, well then we'll deal with it. If they get through the door, they may be dead..."

But for now...he turned and met Riley's dilated eyes. The taller man was frozen in place, Graham marveled at that. Riley was never the one who froze. He was the team leader, the man who motivated, encouraged and supported the rest of his team. Who gave the nudge to the new recruit. Not this time. Not when faced with this....Graham knew it was up to him to do something if they were all going to get through this.

Graham launched himself at the man and the vampire. "Riley!" He shouted over the din: Xander, the door, and the person yelling outside the door.... "Grab Xander!" He ordered his friend as he pushed his body up against Angel, trying to find a way not to be shredded, broken and still get through to the two combatants. How could he, he wondered, catch the vampire's attention?

He shouldn't have worried. Xander sliced into his arms, blood spurted, spraying over all of them on the bed. Onto Xander, who flinched, shying violently away, his chest heaving like a bellows, screams raw with panic. Onto Riley, who's eyes grew even larger as he grimly held on to Xander, clearly wanting to be any where but here. Blood spilling down Graham's arms in a torrent and onto Angel, who went blessedly still for all of one brief instant. Head lifting, nostrils flaring, eyes predator gold.

Then it was Graham who was the focus of the vampire's attention. Xander was free, crawling madly over Riley, knees landing in the other's gut, his chest, drawing out a grunt from the other man, bolting to the floor, shredding whatever he touched, the sheets, comforter, pillow, and Riley's pants leg, his shirt, at last making it under the bed. To sanctuary. Huddling there. Breathing harsh. Arms wound tightly around himself.

The noise inside the room was gone. The silence broken only by the sounds of sucking, feeding, and Xander's panting breaths from under the bed. The shouts from outside were thundering, and Riley grabbed his head. Too loud, too loud, not now.

"Leave us the fuck alone!" He bellowed. The pummeling stopped. He heard feet pounding up the stairs, more than one set. And a voice he did not want to hear, one he loved, but never, ever wanted to hear again, not when he was here, like this, caught, without recourse. Impossible to lie.

"Riley Finn, open the ghod damned door!" Buffy screeched. Riley dropped his head into his hands.

Buffy. No. No. No. Not here, not now, not like this. Not while he was sitting next to his vampire lover, watching his best friend Graham being fed on, with a boner in his own pants he couldn't explain. Not really a battle erectus, something far more uncomfortable to think about, of a far darker, more ancient origin. Something he didn't want anyone else, especially Buffy to know.

"Open. This. Door." Buffy said again, her voice flat, all business. And no, Riley couldn't. Wouldn't.

"Go away." He shouted back, curling in on himself, curling closer to Angel, to Graham, to the feeding, to the blood. To Angel, who had forced Graham's jeans down to his mid thighs, but not off, who was forcing himself, big, hard, throbbing, between Graham's thighs, rubbing there fucking him in a way, up against his perineum, beneath his balls, but not entering. Accepting just the friction for now. Graham not fighting, his eyes open, meeting Riley's, asking without asking that the other man not look away, not leave him alone with this. Not even symbolically.

Christ. Graham was a virgin. Riley wriggled closer. Finding Graham's hand, interlacing their fingers, not looking away, not wavering. Graham's lips parted then, suddenly, and let free a sound, half moan, half sigh, tiny sound, and his eyelids fluttered. He needed more, Graham needed...Riley looked around wildly, his mind racing....Graham needed...Christ this was his first time!

"I love you." Riley whispered to his friend. "I love you." He repeated, because...it was Graham's first time, and he should be loved his first time, everytime, but especially his first time. Graham's eyes were still locked with his. Grey, swirling depths, handsome face, serene. In shock. Always there, always counted on...."I've got your back," Riley said. And reached out to touch Angel. To distract the vampire. To draw the fearsome attention to himself.

With a resounding crash the door caved in. And Buffy was standing in the room fists raised, Giles behind her, cross in hand. And Cordelia, impatiently shoving to the front of the group, pushing Doyle aside, Wesley peering myopically around the others, Fred back in the hallway, Gunn towering next to her, axe in hand, her bodyguard.

Riley came up off the bed, snarling, putting himself between the bed and the interlopers. A flash startled him, and he turned his head a fraction to see...Xander, shoulder to shoulder with him, his face...not Xander's face, an animal-man's face, hyena man, his snarls joining Riley's. More believeable than Riley's. No fear left in Xander now. No terror. No doubt. Threat only. Directed at those who would attack and harm his master, his fellow thralls, his mates, disturb their coupling, and stop the feeding.

Angel raised his gore spattered face from Graham's neck, roaring his rage, lifting away from Graham, who rolled onto his side, shaky, struggling to rise, to drag his pants up over his erection. And the others the ones who shouldn't be in here, they stared at what they shouldn't be seeing. Riley surged forward, brought up by the arm of the vampire around his chest, around Xander's chest, as Angel leaned between them, his wet phallus not hidden, sticking out, tumescent, between the flies of his pants, putting no doubt to what he had been doing when interrupted. Buffy's eyes darted off to the side, Cordelia's did not.

"They are mine, Slayer." Angel growled, "Mine."

"Ghod, Buffy. Ghod. Get out. Please." Riley said, muscles clenching, flexing, fighting. Wanting to defend his mates, from....his former lover. His lover until last week, until he was....Angel's... lover now. Angel's minion, his boy. His pussy, his snack bar. "Just....go."

ne'ichan
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