Vicarious

There was much that Angel hadn’t told them about Penn. As a matter of fact, there wasn’t much he had told them. Just snippets and bits about a gray-eyed boy that had caught Angelus’s attention for some reason. A boy he taught to kill and to maim and then left forever and for good on his own.

Wesley had to admit that he was curious. There wasn’t much on Penn in any of the books. Hidden beneath Angelus’s long shadow, most likely. Who would write about a small-time vampire with a penchant for cutting when they had Angelus: vicious, violent, and creative in all things death. Wes supposed it must have been sad for Penn to do all that hard work and never get any credit for it.

He walked on, his shoulders hunched and his hands stuffed in his pockets. Given up on leather, he had, after looking in the mirror and remembering that he was a well-educated English Watcher. Black leather was a foreign entity to him, and it did not belong in his closet. Plus, it was nearly impossible to gemon mon slime out of it.

It did not cross his mind that he was in any danger when the stranger appeared. Late night L.A., and still he believed that he could take care of himself. He was a self-titled, self-employed rogue demon hunter, after all. Though in his own secret thoughts he believed himself hardly more than a glorified ex-Watcher.

The man in front of him was beautiful in a way Wesley had never seen before, except perhaps in Angel. Fierce gray eyes and smooth, high cheekbones. He wore glasses, and he felt like an educated man to Wesley.

Vampire actually, because this was late night L.A. after all. Wesley hunched his shoulders a bit more and tried to project invisibility. He did not want to fight, and without his weapons he felt bereft and vulnerable. He did not think that he would be able to win a fight with this vampire anyway. He felt old, and strong, and Wesley was small and weak. His only hope was that the vampire would look away, leave and follow the scent of fres mor more vibrant blood.

This did not happen. The man/beast looked straight at him. Wesley felt the predator’s gaze upon him and was touched by fear. And something else.

The vampire walked toward him, swaying slightly. Not with drunkenness, oh no, he swayed with something more calculated. More seductive, perhaps. Wesley’s lips were a bit chapped and he licked them surreptitiously. Still the vampire advanced. A slight tightening in his groin both frightened and excited Wesley. As completely inappropriate as it was, he could not help being utterly attracted to the vampire that stalked him.

Survival instinct told him to turn and walk the opposite direction, preferably quickly. As with dogs, you did not run from a vampire unless you had to. Besides, there was no way he could outrun the preternatural predator behind him.

He turned right down a dark passage and realized his folly only when he came up against a brick wall. With nowhere left to run, he turned to face the vampire.

He stood at the opening of the alley. The streetlights shone from behind him, barely illuminating his face, but enough for Wesley to tell that it was still human. Vampires, as far as he knew, liked to scare their prey before they killed. Vamp face was probably the best way to do that. Yet this one stayed human as he walked down the alley. Somehow that was twice as menacing.

In one last bid for safety, Wesley ran toward the mouth of the alley, trying to dodge his way past the vampire. He caught him by the throat and Wesley made a squeaking noise as he was lifted off the ground.

This is it, then tho thought. I’m going to die now. But strangely enough, when he opened his eyes, he was still breathing. And the vampire had set him down. His back was pressed hard against the cold brick wall, and a hand was still wrapped around his throat, but he was still alive.

He looked into gray, intense eyes, framed so beautifully behind delicately rimmed glasses, and he knew.

This, then, must be Penn.

The hand around his throat released, and Wesley coughed a bit as he fought for air. Penn stared at him curiously. Such a beautiful face. Wesley could understand now why Angelus had been so drawn to corrupt this one.

When he realized that he wasn’t going to die, at least not right away, he wondered what exactly Penn had planned for him.

“You know my Sire, don’t you?” He asked curiously. Wesley looked at him from behind his own glasses, and wondered exactly when he developed such a thing for vampires. First Angel and now Penn. He suddenly wondered where Spike is and if he looked as good as the rest of his ‘family‘.

Wesley swallowed the lump in his throat and responded. “Yes. I work with Angel.”

Penn smiled. A flash of white teeth that could easily have become something dangerous. “Then maybe you can tell me what the fuck is wrong with him.”

Wesley was sweating quite a lot beneath his creme-colored suit. Penn was making him very nervous. And the rage that he heard beneath Penn’s voice did not bode well for his continued survival.

He chose and measured his words carefully. “Angel is not the same as when you knew him. He has a human soul now. He is Angelus no longer.”

Penn backed away from Wes, shaking his head. “That’s great. That’s just FUCKING WONDERFUL!” He punched the wall next to Wesley’s head as hard as he could. Wesley flinched. Penn didn’t notice. “I waited for him, you know! Waited for fifty fucking years!”

He hit the wall again, and his face flashed to vampire. Wesley gathered himself, and then spoke again. “I’m sorry.”

The moment the words left his mouth, he knew it was a stupid thing to say. It diverted Penn’s attention to him, and that could never be good. But when Penn’s luminous golden eyes turned to him, they mellowed back to gray, and Wesley began to believe, for the first time, that he might make it out of this alive.

“Why? Why are you sorry? You’re only human; you could never possibly understand the bond he and I have. And I’m just going to kill you anyway, so there’s no need to make nice. Why would you say such a thing?”

Wesley swallowed hard. Penn was very, very volatile, it seemed, and this would take some handling. “Because I know what it feels like to love him without ever having a hope of it being reciprocated.”

It hurt him to say it, but he knew it was true. Angel would never love him back. And looking at Penn, and the dawning of pain on his face, the vampire had felt the same sense of loss. And therein lay his possible salvation.

“You love him, do you? The stupid fucker. So oblivious to everything. I bet he hasn’t even noticed you yet, has he? Too absorbed in his new cause. Angelus was always like that. He’d find a project, nurture it to completion, and then move on. No time for his old toys. Like you and me.”

Penn brought his knife up and caressed Wesley’s cheek with the cold steel. Somehow, Wesley felt safe. Penn continued. “And if he ever does notice you, he’ll take his pleasure with you and leave. Angelus isn’t good with lasting relationships. Of any kind. ‘S why he left me alone and waiting in Italy for so long. And in Prague before that. He has the attention span of a flea.”

Something low in Wesley’s gut fluttered slowly to life. The silver knife sent cold shivers down his spine, and Penn’s voice was soothing now, as if to calm a riled animal. Wesley found himself relaxing against his own good sense. There was something hypnotic about this vampire. Something that drew him like a moth to a flame. He was powerless to fight it.

Penn’s other hand began to stroke his spine rhythmically, gently. Wesley leaned forward unconsciously. It had been so long since he’d been touched by anyone, let alone someone this attractive. His body responded even as he damned it for its treachery.

Penn leaned forward and nibbled his lip seductively. “You like this, don’t you? Like to pretend...maybe I’m him. His blood flows through my veins, after all. In a way, I am him.”

He pulled closer and whispered into Wesley’s ear. “Doesn’t that just turn you on?” His hand had reached Wesley’s ass and he grabbed it hard. Wesley bit his tongue to keep from yelping. Penn drew back with a wicked and sensual smile on his lips.

“I like you,” he continued conversationally as he sheathed his small knife. He ran his hand through Wesley’s hair. “You’ve got interesting taste in men.”

He licked the side of Wesley’s face. Wesley shivered. A million things came to mind, and were he in any other situation, he would have started babbling them all out. But he bit his tongue and leaned back, arching his neck and allowing Penn access. He started at the first touch of lips on his skin, unsure if the fangs were about to pierce his skin. A shock went through him, straight to his cock. He couldn’t believe he was getting off on this. He felt sick to his stomach and disgusted with himself. Penn was playing him, and playing him well. Wesley was caught on a hook and he wasn’t going to get free of his own volition.

Penn traced patterns on his skin with his tongue, nuzzling Wesley’s fragile, silken skin. It tugged at his lips as Wesley’s heart sped up. Wes could almost feel the blood moving beneath his skin, like sluggish lava. His heart might’ve leapt right out of his chest, but he still would’ve been hard as hell and ready for a fuck.

A chill ran up his spine as he thought of it. A fuck. Was Penn going to fuck him? Wes felt dirty, and he giggled hysterically in his own head. He felt like a foolish high school girl. He never used words like ‘fuck’. The old Wes would never have been caught dead in this alley, necking with a male vampire.

There’s no help for it now, he thought as Penn worshipped his skin, his throat, his pulse. He wrapped his hands around Penn’s shoulders and sighed softly into the night. Penn’s hand was rubbing him through his pants, building pleasure friction. Wesley mewled and rubbed his hips up and down, desperate for just a little more pressure, a little more satisfaction.

He hated himself for this, but he didn’t dare stop. He hated himself for letting this happen, and he repaid the loathing by digging his short fingernails into Penn’s neck, creating little half-moon circles of blood.

“Come on, Wes. Hurt me harder.” Penn’s grin was terrifying, and Wes hallucinated his own blood dripping from that grin. He blinked and it was gone, but the smile was just as terrifying. Oh god, he cried into the silence of his mind.

His own hand shot out in a response to the request, and he squeezed Penn’s cock. Hard, almost hard enough to hurt. Penn hissed. “Yes, that’s my boy.”

He licked Wes’s neck obscenely, and Wes recoiled a bit. He was dying with lust, and his cock was begging for more contact, any kind at all.

How did he get here? He wondered lazily as Penn ripped his pants down, pushing him back against the brick wall brutally. The crack on the head roused Wesley’s senses and blood rushed crazily around in his head. He vaguely wondered why he wasn’t panicking, but then he decided not to worry about it as a mouth wrapped around his member, and he forgot to breathe for moments at a time.

“That’s right, relax, love. It’ll hurt more if you don’t. Of course, that could be fun too...” Penn said in between sucks. Wesley felt like he was going crazy, and he tilted his head up to watch the stars careen around the sky wildly. His only response was a whimper.

Just when he felt the pressure build up and he was squirming around for the last touch, to make him come, Penn stopped. Wes was allowed one deep breath before a cock was rammed up his ass, hard enough to make him cry.

Tears ran down his face and he snarled and pulled Penn in close to him, brazenly flaunting his unprotected throat. He crushed the vampire to him with all his strength, mentally daring Penn to bite him.

He felt dirty. Penn’s fangs were in him and he felt like he was being split apart as Penn thrust upward inside him. His erection was wilting, and the pain hadn’t stopped. What Angel would think...

Penn ripped his fangs out and threw his head back with a gasp. His breath was foggy in the cold. Penn roared and pushed Wesley up the wall, so his feet no longer touched the ground. It was like Wesley was a rag doll. His head flopped to the side, and he wondered if he was still alive, if he was still having fun. Where the line between pain and pleasure had gone.

Cold semen spilled inside him and Wesley realized that he womplompletely out of control, if he’d ever been in it. He wondered if he was dying.

His feet touched down on the ground and he slumped forward. “No, no you don’t,” Penn said. The words should have carried some kind of urgency, but they didn’t. Penn was totally unconcerned. “Angelus taught me this,” he said, and began to fondle Wesley’s mostly deflated cock again. He whispered into Wesley’s ear. “You never give them the moral satisfaction of thinking it was rape.”

Wesley’s head lolled forward and he could still feel blood running down his neck. Angel would never have done this. He imagined that Angel would take him tenderly and carefully, and that there would be no blood. That Angel would nevet hit him get to the point where pain was pain and not pleasure. Penn was nothing like Angel.

Despite his wishes to the contrary, Wesley could feel the desire beginning again, blooming anew. He cursed himself silently and realized that he hadn’t stopped crying. “Come on, love, give it up for me.”

Wesley’s lust was mounting and he pressed himself back against the wall to prevent himself from bucking forward and moaning wildly.

Penn was something like Angelus, though, Wesley thought vaguely. The vampire stepped up and whispered in his ear. “Give us a kiss, then. For Angelus.” He grinned and then proceeded to maul Wesley’s mouth. Against his will, Wesley kissed back, and felt the heat reach its peak, and then he came and saw spots.

He slumped down to the ground, and Penn left him there, like so much garbage. He went away, humming a jaunty tune, leaving Wesley to pull himself back to this earth.