Thralls

Title: Thralls, chapter 20
Author: ne'ichan
Beta: Bryt
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Xander didn't move. He eyed the vampire with blatant distrust from his spot of perceived safety on the floor. It was clear that at the slightest sign of danger he would vanish under the heavy bed in a repeat of the action he'd taken during the last time Angel had tried to mate with him.

Xander's gaze flicked down to where Graham's legs were still loosely wrapped around the vampire's hips and thighs. The tanned young man panting, regaining his breath after sex that he had unexpectedly enjoyed after the very rocky start. Then Xander's gaze moved back up to reassess the vampire's intentions towards himself, not willing to be distracted for long. Angel saw the thoughts flickering through the dark brown eyes. He would need more incentive than a simple command to lure Xander back onto the bed.

Angel bit into his own wrist, sinking his fangs deep into the pulse point there, let the trickling blood run down his arm. Then, slowly, he offered it to Graham as he lay quiessent, under him.

Graham who took it without hesitation, lapped at the stream of red, with languid strokes of his tongue, still caught up in the post orgasmic languor. He fed from the wound, lips ghosting over the lacerations, tongue caressing. Throat working. Sighing. It was good blood, blood from his master. Graham swallowed it gratefully. Good thrall, Angel thought, fighting the urge to smile approvingly.

Xander watched the drinking of blood, just as Angel did. Not letting Xander see how closely he was being observed. Angel watched when Xander, his nervous thrall, rose up higher, head and shoulders above the edge of the bed, trembling with indecision. Attention fixed on the blood feeding. Nose twitching. He licked his lips.

Angel bit his other wrist and made a show of it for Xander when he held it out to Riley. Riley took the dripping limb, holding it carefully, grimacing in a way that made Angel smile faintly. Even grimacing, Riley was unable to resist the urge to put his mouth on it. It squicked him big time, but his stomach rumbled, and he salivated just from the coppery scent, and the tang running over his taste buds. His mental revulsion stood no chance against the pounding drive that commanded him to drink.

Angel shuddered in reaction to the powerful feeling he was getting from two of his men drawing hard at his body and blood. Letting the thralls feed was intensely pleasurable. His skin rippled in his joy. Even so, he kept an eye out for Xander. And saw when the man rose up over the end of the mattress and crept onto the bed. Keeping low to the mattress and warily observing Angel, Xander inched closer, belly down on the bed, eyes hooded as they assessed the situation. There was almost no warning.

With startling suddenness, Xander sprang. Launching himself at the vampire. Hitting him in mid torso, and bearing him backwards, legs folded under. Going for the vampire's throat, were-fangs bared. Angel only just succeeded in tearing his bloody arm out of Graham's hold and thrusting it into Xander's snapping jaws in time to avoid having his throat torn open.

Xander gnawed at the arm, drinking the fresh, spurting blood from the torn flesh. Riley helped Graham drag himself out from under the sprawling tangle of Xander and Angel. Angel let himself fall into the sensation as Xander fed ravenously. Each draw on the wound was exquisite, a combination of pain and glorious pleasure. He shivered, fighting to extricate his legs from their uncomfortable position. Then once he had, he wrapped them around Xander loosely, more to cradle the body on top of him than to imprision or trap him. And certainly not to offer Xander a dominant role in sex. That was not in the cards. Angel was the master. His thralls, all of them, would eventually submit to him. He would not submit to them.

With his free hand, Angel began stroking up and down Xander's spine. Rubbing the base of his skull, and into the thick, dark silk of the boy's hair, then all the way down, to the crease of his buttocks. Petting him with care, impersonal in the sense that it was not an invasive touch, not sexual. A touch intended to get Xander to calm, to realize his feeding was not going to be cut short. And Xander tolerated it, though he rolled his brown-black gaze up every now and again to evaluate Angel and his apparent motives. Angel's blood rimmed his mouth. The vampire felt the urge to lick it off fill him.

At last the wound sealed over and Xander seemed content not to re-open it. He lay on top of the vampire and burrowed his face into the crook of Angel's neck. His tongue stole out and placed a careful lick there. A thanks of sorts. He settled down, on top of the vampire and permitted his master to hold him not struggling to get away. Angel had no doubt that if he showed too much arousal Xander would flee.

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Wesley lifted his head when the knock sounded at the front doors of the Hyperion. Polite but firm. He glanced at the clock on the desk. Twelve minutes after midnight. Hm. Late for casual visitors. He rose to his feet and went to the doors, looking out through the mostly glass doors.

A tall, slender figure stood there, elegant in a tailored grey suit. Short, dark hair expensively styled. Dark skinned, creamy cocoa. Full mouth, complete with a disapproving half-sneer. And, in Wesley's educated assessment, a vampire. He felt that otherworldly power coming off the visitor in waves. Strong, this one. Glittering black eyes took Wesely's appearance in from shoes to the top of his head.

"May I help you?" Wesley asked, hearing a door open behind him. Doyle came to stand next to him, silent, but very much interested in the meeting and conversation going on. The vampire sniffed delicately, his eyes traveling over Doyle with more interest than they had over the Englishman.

"I have been called." The vampire said after a long moment. Addressing Doyle, who failed to stop his brows from rising.

"Called?" Wesley inquired. "By whom?"

The man drew himself up to his full height. Looking down his nose at the two men in the doorway. "The master has called me, demon." He addressed his reply to Doyle again. Coming very close to ignoring Wesley completely. Wesley fought not to roll his eyes. Vampires were certainly not free of predjudice. This one clearly thought humans beneath his notice if there was any other choice available. Doyle shifted his feet.

They were saved from answering the visitor when Angel's new door to the third floor suite slammed open. All eyes lifted to watch as Angel came down the stairs at a rapid clip, his thralls, in various stages of dressing, followed him. Angel himself wore only dark slacks that he zipped as he came. No shirt, no shoes. He was in full gameface, eyes glowing a forbidding gold as he advanced on the group standing at the entrance to the hotel.

"Who are you?" Angel growled out, advancing aggressively. looking huge and intimidating. "Why are you here?"

"I am Balthazar Bayne. I felt your call....master." The last word was a forced whisper through clenched teeth. It didn't tell Wesley anything much, aside from the fact the vampire might not be happy being "called" here, but Angel seemed satisfied.

"This is my house. All who reside here, or work here, are under my protection. You may enter bearing that in mind. If you raise hand to any here, it will be your last act on Earth." Angel turned and went back up the stairs, Xander, Riley, and Graham trailing him, Graham finally finishing with his buttons, Xander glaring suspiciously at the vampire who stepped into the hotel's lobby, and then followed them up the stairs to one of the salons.

Wesley and Doyle glanced at each other, then Doyle went up after them, while Wesley diverted to the kitchen to make a pot of tea. Taking it upstairs would provide an excellent entre into the meeting Angel had not invited him to. On the other hand, he hadn't expressly forbidden Wes or Doyle from joining them, either.

Back on the third floor, Graham left the others, going to Angel's closet and choosing a black silk shirt, silk socks and matte finish shoes. He carried them back to the salon and assisted Angel in dressing. Keeping his eyes lowered. Even so, he never let his awareness of the visitor wane.

Riley stood next to Angel as Graham held the shirt, while Angel slipped his arms in, then buttoned the front of the shirt. His blue eyes were fixed on the strange vampire. Not trying to be as subtle as Graham about his observations. Xander's distrust was even less hidden. He placed himself in front of Angel, growling, showing fangs far longer than a vampire's, until the vampire behind him laid a hand on his shoulder and moved him aside. Angel sat and Graham slipped the dark socks and shoes onto his feet. Angel stroked the short, dark blond hair.

"Sit," Angel said. And all of them did. Doyle came close to sitting down right there in the hall when Angel uttered his command. He frowned. Not liking his automatic reaction to obey that order, that tone. Not liking it at all.

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Wesley carried the tea service into the salon. Angel turned and met his gaze, but didn't say anything about the researcher's presence. The visiting vampire frowned at the intrusion, clearly wanting to say something, but biting his tongue to hold back the words.

"Wesley." Angel said. He waited until the man looked at him. "Bring me an empty cup." Wesley did, puzzled, standing by while Angel handed the cup to Riley. Then he opened a small cut over a vein, and let the blood drip into the cup. Three fat, dark crimson drops, then he extened his wrist to Xander. Who licked the laceration closed. Riley carried the cup back to the tea pot, waiting for Wes to pour.

Then, Riley held the cup out to Balthazar. Who reached for it eagerly. He held the cup, hands shaking, eyes glued to Angel's face, until Angel nodded, then the other vampire raised the steaming cup to his lips and drank, barely managing not to gulp the elixir down.

ne'ichan
neichan22@gmail.com