Please Don't

Disclaimer: This is like the ninth disclaimer I've stuck onto these stories today... look, I don't own Andrew, Warren, Tom Lenk, Adam Busch, the Buffy universe, I'm not Joss Whedon and I don't have ANY money anyways. Please don't sue.

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Slam.

Andrew let out a loud squeak of surprise as he suddenly found himself pinned face-first against a wall in Warren’s room in the basement. The impact stunned him as his head bounced off the solid wood wall, making everything flash before his eyes. One of his arms was twisted behind his back with a hand holding his wrist to the dip in his spine. The weight applied at this point worked with the weight placed roughly on his left shoulder served to hold him firmly in place, giving him little leeway to move. However, he didn’t even bother to struggle for the first moment, his breath slowly returning to his lungs as he tried to figure out what was happening. Around the time his brain started wrapping around his exact position against the wall as well as the placement of the body behind him, he remembered that perhaps now would be the best time to struggle. And so he did.

“H-hey! W-what’s going on? Get off!”

His other arm had been squished between his stomach and the wall when he’d been pinned, and he now tried to use this to his advantage by pushing himself away from the wall. Unfortunately, all this succeeded in doing was to press his backside firmly up against the individual responsible for his present position.

“Shhh… quiet, kitten. We don’t want Jonathan to hear, now do we? What do you think he’d think of this?”

A whimper was Warren’s reply as Andrew retreated further against the wall.

“What do you mean, ‘this’?”

Andrew knew perfectly well what Warren meant, and Warren reminded him of as much by leaning forward further, fitting the length of his body against Andrew’s back. His head hovered beside Andrew’s ear, each breath causing warm air to run across his skin.

“Just shut up, will you Sparky? Everything will be easier for all of us if you just keep quiet.”

The words made Andrew pause in his diminished struggles, as if he contemplated going along with it. Warren could almost see the gears turning inside his head, and so he tightened his grip around the blonde’s wrist in a silent reminder. This was immediately answered with a backwards buck of Andrew’s hips.

“No! Get off of me! Let me go!”

Through his twisting and turning, Andrew managed to snake his arm free of Warren’s grip and duck down under his forward-leaning weight, making a dash towards the door. He only made it a few feet before one of Warren’s legs extended passed him just enough to cause Andrew to trip and tumble sideways, crashing against the end of the bed rather than on it. He crumpled to a heap on the floor as Warren moved to stand over him.

“I really wouldn’t suggest trying that again.”

Andrew started to push himself back to his feet, but never made it past his knees as one of Warren’s hands made contact with the top of his head. He grabbed a handful of blonde hair and yanked backwards to tilt Andrew’s head enough so that he could look up at Warren’s face, which was currently sporting a wickedly smug expression. Their eyes met, and Andrew felt frozen to the spot. He didn’t need to look away to know what that unzipping sound signified. He tested his limits, moving his head from one side to the other, only to have the hand in his hair tighten his grip, eliciting sharp yips of pain from the younger boy.

There was no gentle guiding or subtle lead in, just a forward push from the hand at the back of his head. The threatening tug at his hair told him that he better not try anything funny with this and Andrew obediently parted his lips in time for Warren’s cock to be thrust single-mindedly into his waiting mouth. Andrew quickly found that he had to do little else besides hold his mouth open just the right amount while sucking as best he could while Warren moved his captive head back and forth at his own speed. A speed that quickly grew faster and harder, making just breathing a difficult task for Andrew. It was as Warren rushed towards his climax that Andrew noted that his own pants had started to feel painfully tight over the last few minutes. When Warren shoved Andrew’s head away just moments before his orgasm, Andrew knew his cheeks were red with more than just his efforts.

“Huh. Always figured that pretty little mouth of yours would be useful for something besides translating Quenya and Klingon. Now get up and stop looking at me like some lost little girl.”

Supporting himself on the edge of the bed, Andrew managed to hoist himself back to his legs, swaying a bit as his head stopped spinning. He stood there, staring dumbly at Warren a moment longer as Warren simply smirked back before darting back towards the door of the bedroom. Again Warren caught him, this time by grabbing the back of Andrew’s t-shirt collar. The fabric pulled back at Andrew’s throat, making him gasp for air as Warren easily hauled him backwards and pushed him firmly back onto the lush red comforter of his bed. Still smirking, Warren leaned over the fallen boy, one hand on either side of his slim body to hold himself up as he began to slowly stalk up the length of Andrew’s torso, stopping once their noses were mere centimeters apart.

“Didn’t say you could go yet, Kitten. I’m not done with you…”

Andrew noted with an airy whimper that Warren’s voice had changed over the course of this encounter. It was now deeper and huskier, like he’d just been woken up. There was excitement crackling behind his eyes, and Andrew half expected electricity to arc outwards from them. He was breathing heavily too, Andrew noticed. Their mouths were so close now that all it would take was another inch for them to be kissing, but Andrew didn’t dare move. Did he want to? Yes, of course he did. He wanted to escape. Now.

As if suddenly remembering this, Andrew pushed himself up on his elbows and started to twist his hips to slide away, only to once again collide with Warren. A very noticeably aroused Warren. A Warren who hissed in response before sitting back on his heels long enough to grab both of Andrew’s hands and jerk them above his head, bumping his fingers against the headboard. Crying out from the unexpected pain, Andrew didn’t even notice Warren reaching sideways to his nightstand and pulling out a spare length of electric wire that rested there. Another few blinks later and the wire had been wrapped around Andrew’s wrists and twisted together like a twisty tie, linking not only his hands together but also his hands to the top of the metal frame of the bed.

This done, Warren moved from sitting on his heels to letting his weight rest instead against Andrew’s hips. That was when the electric shot came, not from Warren’s predatory gaze but from that firm and almost painful contact between the two bodies. It was enough to make Andrew gasp and arch upward, spurring a self-satisfied chuckle from Warren.

Large hands splayed across Andrew’s chest, which was currently heaving up and down with panicked little gasps. Warren’s captive stared up at him with a look of pure fear etched into his features, and the sight nearly made Warren come right there. Instead he dragged his hands, fingertips curved inward so that his fingernails would follow after, down Andrew’s torso and stopping at the top of his jeans. At this point he could almost see the boy trembling beneath him. With a few position changes and some frantic yanking, Warren managed to wrestle Andrew’s jeans and boxers down to his ankles, slipping between the open area between his knees with the clothing helping to hold the other’s legs in place around his waist. He paused in his positioning to lean forward and flick his tongue across the sensitive flesh where Andrew’s leg met his stomach.

Feeling aroused and frightened and exposed all at once, Andrew managed to clear his throat enough to whisper another hushed plea.

“P-please, Warren… don’t do this. N-not like this. Don’t…”

Warren jerked Andrew’s legs up and thrust into him without another moment’s though, encouraged by Andrew’s protests. The long tortured cry of pain that tore itself from the boy’s throat was music to Warren’s ears. He had complete control over the body beneath him, and that, more than the sensations and more than the sex, was what thrilled and excited him. That body was his, despite the fight it had given him. He had won, and this was his reward. This. Right. Here.

Tears collected and overflowed from Andrew’s eyes, spilling down his heated cheeks as his body shook and shuddered beneath Warren. It burned. He felt stretched and ripped and rubbed raw inside, but still was caught with each inward motion with a sudden unexpected jolt of pleasure. Even in this situation, his body still reacted to this stimulus as if this had all been planned and consented to. This only brought on more tears, this time from shame, as Andrew’s hips began to adjust to Warren’s rhythm and even rock in time with it, seeking out that lightning strike of sensation each time.

The bed creaked with each thrust, further punctuated by the pained moans coming from Andrew. Pained, but not entirely pain-filled. Each sound contained a stronger undertone of pleasure as he continued on, as if he was convincing the body to enjoy this. Forcing his nerves to sing with pleasure even as they burned with pain. For him. All for him. His conquest. His toy. His body. For him. The way he made it. As he controlled it. Oh God, it was his. This. Was. His.

“N-no! Warren… stop! No!”

MINE.

Driving forward one last time, Warren came hard to the tune of Andrew’s sobbing protest. His fingers gripped the boy’s thighs hard enough to leave tell-tale bruises behind afterwards as he poured himself into his victory. The fact that the body beneath him similarly followed a mere heartbeat later only sweetened the heady rush as Warren collapsed forward, panting. There he lay, his head resting against that shuddering chest as he tried to find his normal breath again.

“W-warren?”

Warren turned his head sleepily to regard the tear-stained face looking back at him.

“What?”

“Did… did I do a good enough job?”

The illusion came to a crashing halt, crumbling to the ground in Andrew’s search for praise and affirmation. It didn’t matter, though. The feeling was still there, and the afterglow couldn’t have possibly been more potent.

“You were perfect, Kitten. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have thought you really hadn’t wanted it.”

Andrew smiled in relief, cooing softly as he let his own eyes drift closed. Warren soon followed, his mind replaying all that had happened back in his head as he half-wished that the experience had been, perhaps, more genuine.