Exaggeration and Blank Verse


Battlestar Galactica
Horatio Hornblower
Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel the Series

"Hello, Miss Burkle." He stood in the doorway, smiling at me, and it was wrong, a smile on Angel's face that wasn't rueful or tempered by sorrow and pain. This one was...gleeful. And wicked. Wrong.

"Angelus," I said, stating the obvious like an idiot, my hands clenching on the edge of the desk. No crosses in here, no holy water- Angel used the office too much for that to be practical. Stakes, in the drawers and cupboards, but if I so much as twitched he'd be on me. I'd seen how fast he moved...or more accurately, I hadn't seen him move at all.

Leaning against the doorframe, bonelessly casual, grinning at me. Maybe even leering. Angel's face shouldn't do that. "Mind if I come in?"

He doesn't need my permission and we both know it. Whatever I say is just going to make him smile wider, so I say nothing. He smiles wider anyway.

He holds up one hand and begins to tick items off on his fingers with great exaggeration. "Gunn- out trying to make a dent in the vampire population. Connor- helping the helpless or hunting for me." Still grinning, but with a bit of a smirk now. "Wesley was last seen heading north out of town, and they've left you and Cordelia and Lorne guarding the fort." He pushed himself off the doorframe and walked into the office, moving with a lazy stalking stride like a panther. An evil insane panther with a taste for human flesh. "But Cordy's tucked all snug in her bed while visions of Connor dance in her head...and Lorne's so easy to take out it's not even funny..." He caught the door with his heel and kicked it shut. "So I guess that just leaves you and me, sweetheart."

I opened my mouth to say something cutting and brave, but nothing came. My heart was hammering so hard my whole body shook. He licked his lips.

God, if I can buy time, if I can stall, Wesley's coming back with a vampire slayer...

His hands were on me, tipping my chin up to make me look into his eyes. "Darling Winifred," he purred, pushing his knee between my legs. "Delicate little flower-girl." He easily caught both my wrists in one hand and ducked his head to nuzzle my neck. I felt his face shift against my skin and there was a sharp pain as he slashed at my throat with his fangs. Not biting, just letting blood run out and down my neck to pool at my collarbone. He lapped at it with his tongue and chuckled.

My breath was coming fast and ragged, and I knew that I should run, fight, scream, but I was frozen. Angelus was Angel's charisma gone to rot, his wounded vulnerable magnetism twisted into a hypnotic trap. His eyes held me pinned to the floor like a needle through a butterfly.

"You want me to hurt you, don't you, Fred," he said, rubbing the back of his hand against my cheek. His other hand released my wrists, then slipped down low and back back up my skirt, teasing along my thighs as he smiled at me and my brain jittered under a strobe light barrage of conflicted sensations- Angel not Angel his eyes not his hands oh my god yes no can't be is-

He laughed again and spun me around, pressing my back against him, his arm wrapped across my chest and making me shiver, because all of Angel's human pretenses were dropped and there was no avoiding that this arm was dead, cold heavy flesh like iron across my chest.

Something else was growing hard against the small of my back as he rubbed against me and chuckled in my ear. I closed my eyes- oh God oh Jesus no-

- but his other hand moved again, still buried between my legs, and some things, when practiced for two hundred years, can override horror and fear and impending hysteria. Tears stung my closed eyelids as he teasingly slipped his fingers farther inside me and I tried not to make a sound.

"Come on, Fred," he crooned in my ear. "Quit fighting it, go back to who you really are...a good little slave..." He licked my neck and put another finger inside, and I couldn't help but cry out as the line between pleasure and pain flashed white and insubstantial in my mind.

"Yes," he hissed in my ear as he moved faster, and my shaking knees gave way. I fell to a trembling half-crouch, and he followed me down, his body's pressure against my back pushing my head forward. I sank my teeth into the edge of the desk to keep from screaming as something tore and I came in the same instant.

He took a step back and stood up again, still laughing. He brushed his hand against my face, leaving heavy wet stickiness on my skin. I closed my eyes and bit down harder, shaking my head in wordless whimpering denial and feeling tears start to flow.

He gripped my shoulders and turned me around, horribly gentle, making the contradiction between my mind and my body even worse. He guided my hands up to release his zipper, manipulating my fingers like a doll. "All that writing and moaning...you know that just turns me on, Fred," he sighed, squeezing my jaw impersonally until my mouth fell open and he shoved himself inside. I choked and pulled back, but cold strong hands caught the back of my head and held me still. Huge fingers tangled themselves in my hair and roughly began moving my head up and down. "There's my girl..." he murmured. "My good little Freddikins."

I was falling, falling through the portal towards Pylea, not knowing if I would ever hit the ground again.

"You know what the best part is, Fred?" he asked conversationally when he was finished and I was huddled on the floor cringing at the feeling of cold stickiness drying on my face and hair. "It's that you all have convinced yourselves that I'm an entirely different person, a negative image of your precious Angel-boy. That we're opposites...white and black, good and bad, cold and hot." He smirked at me, wrapped his fingers in my hair again, tugged me to my feet. "Guess we know which one I am." He folded me across the desk with professional detachment and put his hand up my torn, stained skirt to where I was slick with fluid and still-flowing blood. He slipped his other hand into his pants, jerked himself twice, and then pushed his way into me.

Shock was rising up to meet me like a warm grey wave. My eyes were open, but I couldn't see anything but faded outlines as my face ground into the desktop. His voice stayed surprisingly steady; but then, he didn't have to breathe.

"But that's not it at all, little Winifred. That's far too simple. You're the smart girl, though; I think you've got what it takes to handle the reality." He leaned over and spoke directly into my ear, thrusting harder for emphasis.

"I'm just a part of him, Fred-baby. I'm the thoughts he doesn't give voice to, the impulses he doesn't act on. But they're there, in his mind, coming from the exact same source as the ones the soul lets free. I'm all the dark nastiness he doesn't let out to play, because it's wrong...but it's all coming from the same place." Fangs grazed my neck again. In a moment he'd bite me and this would all finall end.

But he pressed his lips to my ear one more time as his hips bucked and I felt spreading coldness inside me.

"This is what Angel wanted to do to you all along," he whispered, his voice poisoned honey and silk sheets lined with razor blades. "Make sure not to leave that out when you tell Wes and Gunn what happened."

He kissed my cheek, straightened my skirt, and was gone, the office deadly still behind him as the front door slammed. The sound echoed in the emptiness he left behind.

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