Mirror, Mirror

Mirror, Mirror: Chapter 2.
Disclaimer: Still do not own. La sigh.
Stormyhaven: Thank you very much for the review! Hugs! This update is for you. And so is the smut. ;)
~*~

With a painful gasp Wesley returned to the reality of Giles’ house. He staggered a little on stiff legs and fetched up against the couch. Rubbing his forehead he did not at first process what he was seeing, Angel wrestling with a young man. From having been on the receiving end of one of his ill tempers the young ex-Watcher could tell his employer was being relatively gentle with the youth but equally firm. He also did not miss the prominent bulging against the tight leather of Angel’s pants. The vampire was enjoying the boy’s struggle.

Wesley surreptitiously studied what he could of the young man. The face was particularly attractive, high cheekbones swooping down to a squarely rounded chin; a heart shaped face that was strengthened by the straight Irish nose and lent sensuality to the long mouth that was currently thinned in anger. The dark golden hair complimented the tanned, athletic physique. He looked like all those boys Wesley had envied in school who made being perfect seem effortless. With a disgruntled huff the Englishman straightened from the couch.

It took a chokehold to get the young man sitting on Angel’s lap, snarling and cursing between gasps for air. The boy was obviously well trained in hand to hand, but Angel ignored most of his attacks unless they came at his face and then he simply batted the boy’s hands away. Angel merely waited the boy out, purring reassurance and petting his stomach until the youth gave up the fight from exhaustion. The dark blond head fell to the side over the muscled cage of Angel’s arm and Wesley at last saw the full sculpture of his lips, flushed and ripened with blood. Quite the pretty catch and the Englishman smirked at catching the youth’s blush when Angel arranged his limp weight to sit firmly over the vampire’s ardent erection.

“Mister Giles, sir, please,” The boy whined when the older man returned to the room, carrying a folding of dark blue and a gently steaming teacup. Wesley felt brief empathy for the young man; Rupert Giles had an amazing ability to ignore any number of pink elephants lounging about when needed to accomplish a task, however unpleasant.

“Mister Finn, I believe since Angel has done nothing to actually permanently hurt you, you could practice a little tolerance while we try to resolve this quandary with as little fuss as possible. You are a fully trained, ah, adult, and I expect you to remember that.” Wesley recognized that tone of voice: Giles was annoyed. Sitting on the edge of the coffee table facing the couch he set his burden to the side and patted his knee. “Now, I’ve brought the ice wraps up from the training room, so give me your foot.”

The young man’s ankles were discolored and slightly swollen, but the blond looked more pained at having to shift his weight deeper into Angel’s lap than anything. For his part Angel’s eyes were completely glazed over in bliss; Wesley wondered if he even knew Giles had returned to the room. The arm around Finn’s neck had relaxed to hug his shoulders, his other hand still rubbing the youth‘s toned belly.

Wraps snug about each ankle Giles gently set the youth’s foot aside after giving it a consoling pat. “No real harm done, Riley. Just try to stay off them for the rest of the night.” The teacup was retrieved and pressed to the boy’s hand. “Drink it all down and no childish whining.” Wesley had no idea why the American soldier would whine over a spot of tea but with a grimace the blond awkwardly did as told. “Now, let’s see about clearing up this mess.” Standing, Giles looked in Wesley’s direction for the first time. “Wesley, do you have an explanation for Angel’s behavior?”

“I hope so. My apologies about earlier, Mr. Giles. I thought it safest if Angel was able to seek out his desire without any well meaning interference.” As he spoke Wesley retrieved the simple black backpack he’d come with, pulling out the cardboard box and its nefarious contents. “We received this in the post the other day. I thought it was possibly one of the books we have discussed on occasion. It’s a mirror; I have taken the precaution of covering its surface.”

Giles looked over the box, frowning at the return address before carefully sliding out its contents. Setting the box aside while he crossed to his desk the ex-Watcher expertly examined the artifact. “Obviously I have not seen this before. I take it Angel opened the box?”

“Yes, and beheld Mr. Finn’s face, I believe.” Wesley followed in Giles’ wake, both men choosing to ignore the blond’s whimpers as Angel’s hands crept south. “He has been in an altered state of consciousness ever since, determined to make his way here.”

“To his heart’s desire,” Giles finished. “But we should still ascertain that it was indeed Riley he saw. We cannot assume the specificity of the spell.”

“True,” Wesley conceded, “but he hardly seems inclined to conversation at the moment.”

“No touching!” Riley yelped from the couch.

“I know of a similar mirror located in the British Isles,” Giles continued on, turning to his bookshelves. “It showed one’s heart desire. The risk was that the person gazing into the mirror would become ensnared and waste away.”

“Hmmm. This mirror made whomever Angel saw his heart’s desire, obsessively so.” Wesley accepted the book Giles handed him, automatically beginning to search even as his train of thought continued on. “I suppose we should be thankful the mirror did not contain an image of a rabbit or some random pedestrian.”

“Indeed. Upstairs he was completely coherent and in control of his facilities. He acted almost predatory, more the vampiric hunter than he normally portrays. Simple physical contact is obviously not sufficient to loosen the mirror’s hold.” Taking down a second book Giles glanced back at the couch. With his heels planted on the edge of the couch and his cheeks stained a dark red the youth was vainly trying to resist the hand moving determinedly beneath his sweats. “I believe Riley needs to supply some answers.”

Blood was trickling down Riley’s chin from his bitten lip. Giles’ thumb wiped away the smear as he cupped the youth’s jaw. “Riley, did Angel kiss you earlier?”

“He’s . . . touching . . . Meee!” The blond gritted out, eyes narrowed to angry slits.

“I believe if you kiss him he will become more receptive to your wishes.”

Riley stared hard at the older man, openly suspicious, but finally nodded. Giles dropped his hand and stepped back to stand alongside Wesley, both expectantly waiting. It took him a moment to gather his courage, but then Riley reached back, catching Angel by his nape. It took some twisting but he managed to brush their lips together.

It was a fleeting contact but Riley’s lips were painted with his blood, a heady lure for any vampire. Angel’s eyes flared golden and Riley gasped at how quickly he was flipped around and fully engaged. The blond’s fingers reached back to grip at Angel’s wrist but he did not fight the hand cupping his head. The watching Englishmen could not see where his other hand went, could not truly see the kiss itself, but they heard every wet moan and saliva thick whimper. Wesley started to edge to the side to catch a better angle, but Giles’ hand stopped him.

Angel was watching them both with hostile interest.

“How is it a kiss can do what full body contact cannot?” Wesley softly asked as he wisely returned to the older man’s side.

“It’s not the kiss, per se,” Giles answered. “It’s the bodily fluid. Specifically, Riley’s body fluids, his saliva. Whether that is a side effect of the mirror or his vampiric nature is debatable.”

“Thank you for working that out,” Angel said. Gently he let a dazed Riley sprawl out across the couch cushions, arranging his legs to curl across the vampire’s lap. Chest heaving and his erection still obvious Riley put his hands over his face. “The first time I kissed him was instinct, but after a few minutes I felt myself sinking back.”

“Sinking back into what?” Giles asked.

“I cannot begin to describe,” Angel shook his head, “except maybe as a blood gorge. A satiation that is absolutely complete when I have Riley in my arms. All of my senses are muted but to the feel of him and that is all I want to do. Gorge myself.”

“And now?”

Angel looked down at the knee he was kneading. “I want him happy. It makes me happy to want him happy. Being together will make us both happy. I have never felt like this, this happy. I know this is a spell, but I don‘t care. Riley and I are meant to be together.”

Riley made a strangled, dying sound behind his hands.

“Well,” Giles took off his glasses, cloth appearing in his hand, “at least that was honest. We still need to ascertain the exact properties of the mirror, but we believe that it makes whatever the viewer sees their heart desire. Thankfully, it does not seem to be interfering with your curse?” Angel shook his head. “Good then. Riley, have you recently come across any antique mirrors or seen anyone suspicious lurking in your vicinity?”

“You think he might not have known his reflection was captured?” Wesley raised an eyebrow.

“Wait.” Riley’s hands slowly lowered, curling into fists. “Spike shoved a mirror in my face the other day. I didn’t really get a chance to look at it before he hid it. I thought he was just jerking my chain like usual.”

“This is something Spike would do,” Angel growled. The violence in his expression promised eminent retaliation against his devious childe.

“How could he have gotten an artifact like this?” Wesley asked.

“That will be one of the questions we’ll put to him when he comes tonight for patrol,” Giles answered. “Hopefully he will know how to reverse the spell. Regardless, I must contact an old acquaintance about seeing to the safe disposal of the mirror.” He spared a glance towards the still blushing soldier. “Riley, you are handling this remarkably well. If you wish to remain in your room while I explain things to the others when they arrive I think everyone will understand.”

“Thanks,” Riley mumbled, slowly struggling off the couch and out of Angel’s grasp. “Need to use the bathroom.” Not looking at anyone the young man quickly left the room.

There was one of those large pink elephants again and her name was Buffy. Wesley watched his employer and Giles have a silent exchange, no doubt about a certain volatile Slayer. Buffy was not going to take this well at all. Finally Angel nodded, the two men having reached some agreement, and slowly stood. “My word, Giles, I will not hurt the boy. I am not pleased with the thought of Buffy coming near him so I would warn you now to keep her on a tight leash.”

“Just try to remember, none of your feelings are real,” Giles cautioned.

Angel stared at him, obviously struggling with the truth of his words. Golden brown eyes gave nothing away as he followed after his compelled love.

~*~

Riley turned on the shower but didn’t undress but to pull down his sweats. His wood didn’t care who’d brought it about and wasn’t inclined to go away. Wetting his hand the blond braced himself over the toilet and tried to conjure up some favorite, guaranteed fantasies. He didn’t think about the fact that none of them included his girlfriend. Ever since the concoction Dr. Walsh had fed him making him stronger had worn off Buffy had been efficiently emasculating him. She didn’t want to train with him, didn’t want him on patrol and even more humiliating, only allowed certain sex positions. Because he was normal. Weak and human. Not surprisingly, their sex life had practically disappeared, though he blamed it on living with Giles and Willow and Tara living with her.

Okay, these thoughts were not helping. His dick should have been familiar with his hand and gotten into things, but Riley Jr wasn’t responding. Traitor. Buffy jacked him sometimes, to get him hard enough to fuck. Her grip was usually almost painfully tight and he was pretty sure he got it up out of a sense of self preservation. No way would he tell her she had the technique of a harpy. Not and risk a ‘weak’ comment.

Angel’s touch had been confident and gentle, manipulating Riley’s body in a way only another man could. That was all, just a two hundred year old guy showing his expertise. His hand had been cool and oddly calloused; the memory of that large hand closing around him made his dick jerk and he groaned. Great, Riley Jr. was sexually confused. This was so Buffy and her butch dominatrix routine’s fault.

This spell between them must have made him deaf to the vampire because Riley’s first suspicion that he was no longer alone in the bathroom was when a hand gripped his shoulder. Riley gasped in heart stopping surprise and his brain shut off in mortified panic, which explained his temporary blindness and what he could only describe as an out of body experience. When he opened his eyes it was to see himself, sitting on the open toilet with his legs obscenely spread. One was draped over the kneeling Angel’s shoulder, toes curling as he dug his heel into the silk draped back. His hands were clenched tight in the normally perfect dark waves. Angel’s head was in his lap, large pale hands on his tanned thighs. Mouth wide over Riley’s dick as he bobbed and sucked.

The realization that he was getting sucked off snapped Riley back into reality. It was all suddenly an overwhelming swirl of sensation, of, oh, wet, electrifyingly cool suction and his penis had not been this happy in a very long time. Riley keened softly, spine arching as he tried to instinctively go deeper. Amazingly, Angel let him and a little shocked voice whispered something about said vampire being dead and not needing to breathe so there you had it, an absolutely fucking brilliant cocksucker. But Riley didn’t really listen to that voice. Just as he ignored the one gibbering that it was a *guy* sucking him off. Angel. Fantasy and nightmare rolled into one.

No, Riley was like any healthy young male when getting a blowjob: he mindlessly enjoyed it. From the triumphant smirk sparkling in Angel’s eyes the vampire was well aware of this universal weakness. His hand slid down the inside of Riley’s taut thigh and down to cup tawny furred balls, gently squeezing. Riley’s breath shuddered out of him. He was down Angel’s throat and a thick finger was nudging his pucker. Oh God, oh God, this was nothing like a doctor’s office and the blond gave a short bark of laughter at the bizarre thought.

“Nnnn.” Riley squirmed as much as he could feeling that finger slide deep inside. The doctor used a glove and lubricant that left an uncomfortable slimy feeling; Angel’s dry impalement burned in a delicious way that made him hyper aware of the nerves stretching between his ass and his cock. With each shuddery breath he could feel himself coming closer to the edge. Gaze cast to the water marked ceiling he didn’t see the hungry, lustful possession glowing in the yellow tinted eyes watching his every twitch and spasm.

Then Angel’s finger scraped painfully hard against something inside and Riley’s sense of reality again fell away. Orgasm swept through him in a powerful rush, pouring everything he was down the vampire’s greedily swallowing throat. Jaw clenched to contain his screams the blond’s entire body seized for a few brief agonizingly exquisite seconds. Whiteness swept his senses, red tinting the edges. Then he melted.

When he finally became aware of having bones and flesh it was to blush at finding himself curled up in Angel’s lap, head nestled on the vampire‘s broad shoulder. His sweats were still around his ankles which made it his bare bottom sitting on another man’s leg. Angel was massaging his nape, which was relatively innocent thinking what he could have done to Riley while he’d been out of it. Maybe, ah, he couldn’t even think it! If kissing him got Angel back into his head maybe doing what he did got the spell to really back off. And this was a spell, the humiliated blond reminded himself.

Groaning in embarrassment Riley tried to climb out of the vampire’s lap and get his dignity back on using the nearby toilet for support, but his legs weren’t cooperating. Damn rubber and his ankles were frozen numb from the ice packs. “Let me help,” Angel murmured, somehow getting Riley decent and on his feet with a modicum of struggle.

“Ah,” Riley blanked. Politeness his mother had beat into him with the back of a wooden spoon urged him to acknowledge the assistance, but it was Angel’s fault to begin with. The vampire had him securely about the waist, tucked into his side and seemingly unaffected by what had just gone on. In Rupert Giles’ bathroom. Could he die of embarrassment, truly?

Fingers lifted his chin. “My promise to you, Riley, I will only ask of you what I need to keep my sanity until this spell is broken.”

Riley nodded and slowly eased away, aiming himself for the door. Though it was barely into evening he was tired. Giles had said he could hide upstairs while he explained the situation to the Scoobies. Maybe he’d just take a nap. Forget this whole day ever happened. “That’ll be tonight, right? Spike,” the blond’s words ended with a jaw popping yawn. He blinked, but the bathroom was still blurring around him, growing darker.

“If this is Spike’s doing - Riley!” The vampire thanked his preternatural speed, catching the crumpling figure before the blond could end his fall with the cold tile floor. The boy’s pale face was flushed with fever, eyes rolled to the back of his head. Firming his hold Angel kicked open the door. “Giles!”

When the ex-Watcher appeared at the top of the stairs the man’s expression went frigid. “Does this spell make your word mean nothing, then?”

“I did nothing to hurt him. I don’t think I can.” Giles’ glare clearly implied he explain himself post haste but Angel was briefly distracted by a barely audible moan into his shoulder. Riley gave no further signs of waking, however, though Angel darted his gaze between his wan face and Giles’ thunderous one. “He shouldn’t be hurt. He just passed out.”

Giles gestured for him to head for Riley’s room. “What were you doing in the bathroom with him?”

Angel would have been less embarrassed to confess to a priest. The narrow stairs leading up into the attic appeared a Godsend, letting him dither in answering. Once he had Riley stretched out on his military neat bed he answered, though he kept his eyes on the boy and occupied his hands with smoothing his spiky hair. “I helped him relieve some of the stress I had caused earlier.”

Circling the bed Giles shooed him back, checking Riley’s pulse at his wrist and feeling his forehead. “Considering your current needs I am going to assume nothing went to waste?”

Angel flushed and jerkily nodded his head. “It was a one-sided exchange.”

“We need to discover the full properties of this mirror,” Giles said softly. From the chest sitting at the foot of the bed he pulled out an old afghan and left it to Angel to cover the young man. “Perhaps it was foolish of us to expect nothing would happen to the target.”

The sound of the front door opening came faintly and Angel stiffened to hear Buffy’s voice. Giles sighed. “Stay here with him. I will explain things and get them started with researching. Spike and Xander are not due for another hour.” At Angel’s inquisitively raised eyebrow he elaborated. “They tend to time their arrival to the delivery of the pizza.”

Angel wanted to smile, but he still hurt too much that his childe would do this to him. As Giles hurried downstairs the vampire gingerly sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the young man who now consumed his heart. Logically, he knew this was a spell, a forced compulsion driving him to possess Riley as his. He knew nothing of the young soldier! Yesterday he could honestly say he’d disliked the boy on principle for dating the woman he had thought of as his true love. Yet she meant nothing now, a mere possible hindrance to his and Riley’s happiness. His head knew this was a spell, but his heart? Soul and demon, for the first time since his cursing, were according a truce to achieve one thing. Riley.

If he desired he could have clearly heard the words being hurled downstairs. Absently he catalogued those voices he recognized: Buffy, Giles, Wesley, Willow, and a third female’s that came sporadically. Their voices meant nothing, however, before the worry he felt for his love. What if Riley was dying? Was Angel somehow sucking the very life energy from him? Was that the cruel joke of the mirror, to make you kill the very person it cursed you to love? If that were so then he would walk into the sunrise, he would stake himself this very moment and spare his beloved any further pain.

“Angel, get away from that chair!”

The voice of his former lover startled the vampire into dropping the chair he’d mindlessly been prepared to snap the leg off of. It would have made a good stake. Its clatter to the hard wood floor did nothing to disturb Riley. Standing just inside the bedroom the petite blond Slayer cautiously watched him, green eyes too aware of what he’d been prepared to do.

“Buffy.” That sounded normal, right?

“Giles told us about the mirror,” Buffy said after a painful minute. “Willow and Tara are doing their research thing with Wesley but Giles locked himself in his bedroom to call someone. I wanted to see how you were dealing.” Obviously not well and the silence became acutely uncomfortable. “Staking yourself isn’t going to help anything.”

“It will if I’m cause for his passing out.”

“And if you dying hurts him worse?” Buffy shot back. “I’d like to not lose both of you to some stupid prank of Spike’s.”

That stumped him for a moment and he knew he was in a bad way if Buffy Summers, bless the girl, was thinking more logically than he was. Then she made to step further into the room and Angel forgot about everything except keeping what was his. Without thinking he growled, a warning and threat for the Slayer to keep her distance. Buffy froze, eyes narrowing as her own instincts to answer his challenge flared.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Buffy,” Angel rumbled, putting himself between the threat and his feverish love. “I’m not in control of this right now so just keep your distance. Please.”

Buffy stared at him for a long moment, obviously calculating her chances of getting any farther with him before she slowly nodded. “Riley is a good man, Angel. I don’t want to see him hurt by any of this. And remember, stake yourself now and you’ll miss ass beating Spike later.”

She made a very good point, but Giles appearing in the doorway rendered it moot. The ex-Watcher briskly shoved his charge to one side and advanced on the bed. The Slayer was unpleasantly surprised that Angel did nothing to halt the man’s progress all the way to her boyfriend’s side. Putting the back of his hand to Riley’s feverish brow the older man frowned.

“He’s getting worse. Angel, we need to travel somewhere to get our answers. Get him ready. He needs to be dressed for damp weather.”

“I’ll help,” Buffy started to offer, but twin glares stuttered her words. “So where are you going?”

Giles strode over to an old armoire tucked into one shadowed corner and began to yank out the necessary clothing, obviously unwilling to wait. “Wesley will stay behind to question Spike though I have been promised he will receive competent assistance. The rest of you are coming with.” Jeans, socks, t-shirt and sweater; Giles thrust them at Angel. “His boots are under his bed. Buffy, go change into the warmest clothes you have.”

“They’re kinda, well, definitely last season, Giles,” she pointed out, rolling her eyes at the idiocy of men.

“Now, Buffy, or you stay behind,” Giles barked and the girl rushed out of the room to obey. “Thirty minutes, my study,” the Englishman said before closing the door, leaving a slightly bemused vampire to dress the unconscious soldier.

~*~

Willow and Tara were anxiously waiting when Angel walked into Giles’ study, kept busy by re-shelving books. They both stared aghast at seeing the large vampire carrying the feverish Riley, but neither approached. Perhaps they were more inclined to heed Giles’ warnings about Angel’s volatile temper. The ex-Watcher gestured for Angel to join him and Wesley at his desk.

“I was just explaining to Wesley as to how to contact us when he learns anything from Spike,” Giles said by way of greeting.

Wesley nodded, glancing briefly to the face tucked into Angel’s shoulder before meeting his employer’s dark eyes. “I do not like the idea of sending you alone, but someone must stay.”

“Just don’t kill him,” Angel growled as Buffy pranced into the room. “I don’t want Spike getting off that easy.”

“I have an excellent paddle you may make use of when we return,” Giles offered with malicious generosity. “Girls, gather around. Buffy, this side.” Wesley stepped back while Giles tugged the Slayer to stand on his side opposite of Angel, the two witches filling the space between. From the pocket of his coat he pulled out a green and grey stripped scarf. “Everyone take hold. Angel, you’re holding Riley so,” and with his free hand he gripped the blond’s shoulder. “Everyone good? No matter what, don’t let go. Chudley Cannons.”

The last two words activated the spell, whisking them away. Standing a safe distance apart Wesley disinterestedly blinked, adjusting the cuffs of his jacket. When the last wisp of magic faded he scratched his ear and wandered from the room. Hopefully the pizza delivery would be soon; he was bloody famished.

TBC.