Thralls

Title: Thralls, chapter 7
Disclaimer: I do not own ATS or BTVS.


"Angel!" Xander exclaimed when he saw the vampire's hand clenched around Riley's throat. Without thinking he was moving rapidly forward, he reached out to help the other man, grabbing at Angel's arm. Barely making contact before Angel objected.

Angel roared, knocking the offending hand away, and fastened his own grip in Xander's shirt, twisting it, and lifting Xander up off of the flooring, while the young man clutched with both hands at the vampire's forearm. Holding one man in each hand, Angel headed for his sanctuary. That quickly he was out the door, bearing his two thralls with him. Graham wasted no time in following, earning a threatening growl.

"Please. Let me come. Please." Graham was crouched down, presenting himself in the least offensive stance he could think of and still follow the vampire. He had to be there, in case there was something he could do to keep this from going very wrong.

Angel said nothing, just shooting Graham a warning, golden-eyed glare, and dragged his other two thralls down the hall and into his suite. Graham hurried after, slipping into the rooms just before the door was slammed shut.

Down the hall, in the room recently abandoned by Angel and his thralls, all eyes were wide and all mouths gaped at the lightning quick encounter, and it's violent climax. That was not how Angel acted, except in the middle of a battle. But that was when he was fighting evil. And willing to kill. This time, hopefully, he wouldn't kill.

Wesley shuddered. He didn't know much about what to expect from a vampire with thralls. He had no grasp of the finer points. He had never personally encountered this situation. Angel had fed from all three men. Wesley thought that made them safe. But, he had not claimed them sexually, as was the norm. Were they still at risk of being killed? Was that what was happening even now? Was Angel tearing out their throats? And for ghod's sake, why? What had been the trigger? If the trio lived, how were they going to avoid a repeat of this incident?

Gunn's voice was first to break the silence. "Well, what the fuck just happened? And what the fuck do we do now?" He asked. He didn't swear often, but if he was going to be dealing with one of his friends killing three other men he was just getting to know, and starting to like...well he thought that deserved a little profanity.

Fred just looked at him, hand over her mouth, what remained of her last helping of pizza upside down in her lap. Wesley shook himself out of his trance, and the universal constant of anything, everything always landing messy side down....and cleared his throat.

"I am not sure. Angel took blood from them. As far as I know that indicates he has chosen them. That should convey a relative safety. And thus they should not be at risk of death by his hand." His brow furrowed, as he tried to recall any bit of information that might shed light on the problem.

"Fang." Fred interrupted, in a low whisper. Her eyes huge saucers. Her fingers picked at the gooey mess in her lap, dotting her short, lime green skirt. But absently, her thoughts elsewhere.

"What?" Doyle said, distracted, emerald green eyes glittering frantically.

"His fangs. He'll kill them with his fangs. Not his hands." Fred offered. "He'll bite them to death, and drink all their blood. That's how he'll kill them. Their blood drip, drip, dripping down his chin."

"Uh." Wesley began, strangely fascinated, and equally repulsed, by Fred's graphic imagery, true as it might turn out to be, then frowned. " The thing is, we don't know yet if he is going to kill them. He has not taken any of them, as far as we know, uhm,...physically. With the possible exception of Xander, after he was left alone with Angel. The other two men were very certain in their protestations."

"I think what we just saw qualifies as physically being taken." Doyle asserted, dryly. Wesley felt the blush flow over his cheeks. "He dragged their sorry arses right out of here. Physically."

"Sexually." Wesley ground his teeth, as he clarified his meaning. "And that one, Graham, he wasn't dragged.He followed him, completely voluntarily."

Doyle nodded, reluctantly. "They may have lied? Not wanted to admit that they had used like that by another man? Lots of men would lie. I might lie myself." He suddered at the thought of...well...that happening to *him*. He would definitely lie.

"I don't think so. That Graham, he strikes me as not likely to be embarrassed by much of anything. I mean, he admitted to a room full os strangers he was a virgin. Not what most men would say out loud. Of course it is possible he thought it was none of our business, and lied about that, too. Which it was not. Not really. But, it is, because of what might happen with Angel." Wesley faltered to a stop.

"And that means..." Gunn asked into the silence. Once the inevitable rambling had ended. "The practical, easily understood version, right guys? Just what are we in for? What is next? What do we do?" He looked from the half-demon to the researcher.

"It means we don't know enough to say what will or will not happen." Doyle answered at last, earning a nod of agreement from Wesley. Wesley lowered his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, squeezing it between thumb and forefinger. Not finding the ease he was seeking.

"Well, that is a relief. I'd hate to know what was going to happen. It would be such a change from how we usually operate, I am not sure I'd know how to react." Gunn glowered at the two of them. They were the information portion of this equation. They were supposed to figure it out. sort through the info and then he'd make the action decisions.

"The question now is, what do we do?" Gunn prompted after a long pause.

"How do we find out more? Who do we know who has more information? And how do we get it?" Wesley took up the line of thought. Pushing his wire-rimmed glasses back up to rest in their usual location. He sat forward eagerly. "Who do we consult?"

"Lorne," Doyle said immediately. His own satisfaction with the idea washing over him. Lorne was a veritable encyclopedia of odd and esoteric knowledge. Useful info.

"Giles." Wesley added. The older watcher was a fount of information, the more out there the better.

"Wolfram and Hart." Fred responded. Gunn blinked. Shaking his head, and just when the ideas seemed to be coming along so well.

"Sorry, I am not sure Wolfram and Hart...." He started, carefully. A damn poor choice of resources, in his very humble opinion..

"Sweetheart..." Doyle began, planning to quash that line of inquiry in a hurry.

"Their computers." Fred explained. "I can stay right here, and worm my way in to their system. It is sooo easy. And it is fun, too." Most of the pizza was now resting on a napkin, what remained on her, was not going to come off easily. Maybe not even with repeated washings. She sighed tugging at the pale but vibrant green material. It had been such a nice skirt. One of her favorites. Still, if she got to play in W&H's computers....perhaps it had been worth it. She could always get a new skirt. Maybe one of Cordelia's. She had so many, she sometimes never missed the ones that vanished into Fred's much smaller closet. Yes, that would be quite satisfactory.

"Oh, fine." Gunn said then stopped. They were all looking at him. "What?"

"Any suggestions?" Wesley asked politely, hands folded primly on his knees.

"Nope. I am the action part of this partnership. You guys figure the research and information angle out. Then let me take care of what needs taking care of." Gunn said. All eyes moved down the hall towards Angel's suite. Gunn was glad his skin was dark, because the blush was instant. "Not what I meant. Not that at all."


Doyle waited until the voice at the other end of the phone call spoke a greeting. Then it was his turn. "Lorne, long time no see."

"Four days ago," The green, club owner reminded him.

"What I said, too long." Doyle said. Then he cut to the chase. "Lorne, we have some serious trouble. Can you come to the Hotel?"

"Well, hello to you to." Lorne responded. "Exactly what kind of trouble? Just so I'll know if I am walking voluntarily into World War three." Now he sounded less friendly and far more suspicious than Doyle liked.

It was now or never, Doyle decided. "Angel, thralls, three of them, a locked door. Probably blood." He said, ticking off the important points on his fingers.

"Oh my. Why didn't you say so? I thought that Cordy wanted to use the bar for another party. Took me days to clean it the last time. Where that girl finds her friends I don't know. Give me half an hour to bring Mark up to speed, then I'll be right there."

Lorne paused, and Doyle could almost feel the other demon's wheels turning. "You are sure it is Angel? Not Angelus? I mean Angel doesn't seem the type to go for thralls."

Another pause, this one different, as if the larger demon had just realized something important. "Wait. You said three? Three? Doyle...Three? That's not...."

"Yes. I know. I mean, I don't know, that's the problem. Or it seems to be one of the problems." Doyle agreed.

"Understood.Make that twenty minutes." And Lorne hung up.


Xander hit the wide bed and rolled to a stop when he bumped into the headboard. It was a huge, carved monstrosity of solid hardwood, easily large enough to accommodate two modern, king sized mattresses. On the bright side it wasn't a coffin, the downside, Angel seemed really pissed.

Riley was close behind Xander, tossed down by the vampire holding his throat. Riley gagged, clawing at the hand until it released him, then he spent long moments coughing, fighting to replenish his depleted oxygen. He sagged, not trying to stop the hands that quickly tore his pants off, ignoring his t-shirt. He was unceremoniously spun over to lay on his stomach.

Then Riley felt his alarm growing. Angel covered his body with his own, hand fisting in the short hair at the back of his head, turning him, until the side of his face was pressed into the coverlet, his own face coming to rest, mouth on the ex-soldier's cheek. Riley could feel the sharp indentations of extended fangs, nearly puncturing his flesh. Riley struggled, it was an automatic response, and Angel bore down harder, growling menacingly, until Riley was nearly unable to breathe.

"Hold still." The velvet voice hissed into his ear. "Do not make me break you, my thrall."

Angel growled once more, when he felt the bed dip, but his senses told him it was only Graham, he simply reached out and cuffed the thrall, knocking him flat onto the bed. Making sure he knew his place, and that he was not to interfere. Then the vampire turned his attention back to the man sprawled out underneath him, who was only just managing to catch his breath.

Angel nuzzled his face onto the back of Riley's neck, licking over the fragile bones that moved beneath the young man's skin. He was angry, but not homicidal over his thrall's actions. He had been flirting, talking of another in a sexually suggestive manner. Angel was not about to share that kind of attention with anyone. His thralls belonged to him. They would be taught the proper way to behave, and learn the limits he found acceptable.

Angel set his weight against the back of the man, sniffing the freshly washed scent at the nape of Riley's neck. His knees worked between the long, bare legs, forcing them apart, wide, open. Riley let out a grunt and resisted, tried to turn over, found himself unable, the vampire was far too strong.

Graham glided forward, on his knees, untucking his shirt as he went, stripping it off. He was not going to sit here, master vampire or not, and watch Riley be raped. Angel immediately fixed him with threatening eyes. Graham slowed his movements, lowered his gaze, shucked his pants and briefs, lay down on the bed next to Riley and the vampire who was on top of him. He stretched out his arm, offering the pulse point at his wrist to Angel.

"Please, master?" He asked, his tone both wanting and careful. The vampire turned towards him again, eyes flicking between his face and the offered wrist. Definitely interested, Graham noted.

"Graham what are you doing?" Xander hissed at him from the top of the big bed, panic coloring his lowered voice. "Don't feed him blood, it'll make him worse."

"I am not feeding him just to feed him, Xan, I am distracting him *by* feeding him. If I don't he'll rip Ri a new one, literally. Go find something, grease, lotion, anything that we can use as lube." Graham said, hoping the vampire would not take offense. Xander hadn't moved. "Get moving."

"You done this before?" Graham asked when Xander returned with a bottle and a tube in his hands. Graham looked them over, deciding on the tube of thick, oily cream. "That one," he said, and Xander set the bottle aside. "Get up here. Gently." No way he wanted the vampire to be startled or jolted enough to rip the fangs out of his flesh and tear a chunk out of him.

"No, You?" Xander said, breathlessly. "I've done about everything else you can with a vamp, but not this."

"No. But, the best method seems pretty obvious. We have to get the grease on Angel and into Ri. Hurry up and do it." Graham said, as Angel changed the angle of his feeding, and the young man gasped as the bite went deeper. It hurt, but it also felt amazingly good, as if he was being licked, suckled in a very sensitive place, pleasurably, if intensely. His nipples had long since hardened into eager points. His erection was well on it's way to full-fledged.

Xander, less caught up in the party, froze looking from the tube in his hand to the men on the bed. His brain provided him with a picture, in vivid and unwelcome detail, hands, fingers, anus and cock, of what Graham was telling him to do. He so did not want to do that. "Uh...."

"Give it to me then, Harris. Hurry up. Give him your wrist, keep him occupied while I do it." Graham said urgently fighting to keep from falling further into the beckoning, sensual haze.

Xander all but threw the tube at Graham. He rolled up his sleeve and stuck his wrist under Angel's nose, grimacing in anticipation and against his better judgment. Graham was right, they had to protect and look after each other. Or one or more of them was going to get badly hurt, perhaps even die. Riley was in the worst position, and Xander felt he owed the man something for that, if Riley was there, about to get fucked, that meant Xander was not. And for that, he was supremely grateful. So what if he had to give up a little blood in exchange for not being the bottom boy? He could manage it.

Graham scooted much closer, and twisted the cap off the tube, squirting a long string of the thick cream onto his fingers. He reached cautiously for Angel's prominent erection, damn the man was big, and spread the lube onto him figuring that if he was going to get only part of the job done he'd better make it this part, in case the vamp suddenly stopped being distracted enough by Xan's blood, and grinding into Ri's back, and thrust inside, instead.

The heavy, solid weight of the vampire's erection was not all unapealing, though Graham hadn't much to compare it to. The only other penis he'd held in his hand was his own. Angel was definitely larger, and thicker, but not embarrassingly so. He was also uncut. And Graham supposed he'd have time to explore that later, probably more time than he'd be comfortable with if this scene was anything to go by. He moved on to taking care of Riley.

"Ri, sorry about this, man, I am going to touch you, get you slicked up, it's for your own safety, OK?" At first the taller young man stiffened in reposnse to Graham's hand on his nearer buttock, then he let out a huge whoosh of air and nodded. Graham felt relief flow through him. They would get through it, together.

His finger smeared the greasy cream over the tiny puckered opening to Riley's body. He went quickly but took care not to be too rushed. Riley had to be relaxed as possible. One finger entered the heated opening, smoothly, Graham could tell Riley was fighting to relax. He rubbed at his friends hip and side.

"That's it. One finger in, now I am going for two. He's big, but you can take it. I'll help you. Get you opened up, Ri. So it'll feel alright." Graham slid a second finger inside. Trying not to get lost in the strangely erotic act of being inside his friend's body like this.

Xander added to the mix with a tiny whimper, and the grey-eyed man looked up to see Xander's brown, dilated gaze boring into his. His wrist was still in Angel's mouth, pierced by the wicked fangs, but he wasn't suffering if the distinct bulge in his pants was any indication. Xander wiggled his hips, his free hand going to cover the mound in his pants, with a guilty motion, he rubbed at himself. Not suffering at all, Graham thought, then went back to his task.

He didn't get much further, because Angel was suddenly more than ready to fuck, Graham had only just started to push in with three fingers, he hastily pulled out at the furious snarl the vampire directed at him. Angel immediately positioned himself and pressed in, and Riley let out a shocked breath, hissing with discomfrot. "Relax, Ri." Graham whispered. "Don't fight it. Breathe."

"Slow, master, please. Don't hurt him, don't hurt your thrall." Graham murmured into Angel's ear. Xander let out a moan, and Graham could tell Angel was biting harder. Xander had his pants unzipped by now, his hand inside the flaps. He was writhing, taking great care not to pull his wrist free from the arousing suction of the vampire feeding there.

Riley let out a cry, and Angel's body was suddenly up close and tight to the soldier's back. He was inside, to the hilt, and he was moving. In and out. Riley's head dropped forward. He cried out, hurting, flanks and thighs trembling with the effort not to fight to get free. Graham pulled one of Riley's arms up, moving it to the vampire's mouth, pushing Xander's out of the way. Xander sighed his objection but Graham was insitent. If Angel fed on him, then Riley would feel less pain, more pleasure from the bite, from everything.

Angel, willing, fastened onto the offered arm, sinking his teeth in, and Riley's cries became less painfilled, and more breathless. His hips raised, a fraction, almost too little to see at first, then he was pushing back, meeting the lunging thrusts with his own. He moaned, not fighting it, reveling in it. Enjoying it, it was an exquisite torture, an erotic sensation, being filled, dilated, mastered, and taken hard, like this. His back rippled with the strain, but he never stopped his motions, his need burning between his rounded cheeks, and deep inside his body where Angel's hard flesh struck something, and Riley screamed his reaction.

"Oh, ghod." He cried out. "Oh, ghod, oh ghod, oh ghod...." sweat ran down his face. Graham gaped, at last caught unprepared. Christ, Riley was beautiful like this, moaning and writhing, and out of all control, a wanting, needing, sexually maddened creature, fully matched by the vampire riding him, sliding deeply in, and out, adding his growling, possessive grunts to the mix. Graham's hair was on end, his breath coming short, hard, his prick harder than it had ever been. Ghod, he was *not* going to survive this after all, he thought, hand squeezing his own cock.


"It's called a blood-circle." Lorne explained once he'd heard the information they had. "And it is a really, really bad idea. I don't suppose there is any chance of talking Angel out of it?"

ne'ichan
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