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The Silken Cage: Journey	By : margotlefaye Category: -Buffy the Vampire Slayer > Het - Male/Female > Angel(us)/Buffy > Angel(us)/Buffy Views: 21206 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel or any of the characters therefrom. No profit is being made from this work of fanfic, which is intended as commentary on the original, not as a derivative work. No infringement intended.

Chapter List
- 1-The Silken Cage: Journey
- 2-Part 2
- 3-Part 3
- 4-Part 4
- 5-Part 5
- 6-Part 6
- 7-Part 7
- 8-Part 8
- 9-Part 9
- 10-Part 10
- 11-Part 11
- 12-Part 12
- 13-Part 13
- 14-Part 14
- 15-Part 15a
- 16-Part 15b
- 17-Part 16
- 18-Part 17
- 19-Part 18
- 20-Part 19
- 21-Part 20
- 22-Part 21
- 23-Part 22a
- 24-Part 22b
- 25-Part 23
- 3
- 4
- 5
He had lessons for her. A nineteenth century edition of the tale of Sinuhe, from the first known translation of the original Egyptian text. The poetry of Hesiod. A bound sheaf of drawings of Leonardo da Vinci's inventions, annotated in the artist's own fading script.
Buffy was fascinated. She could almost forget that it was Angelus, not Angel, tutoring her. Almost. But her hands were still bound, and he would taunt her, sometimes, in ways her beloved never would. Buffy was exhausted by the time someone knocked on the door of their cabin. Angelus glanced at his watch as if he had been expecting the interruption. He closed the book he had been reading to her, tossing it onto a nearby table, and went to the door.
She hadn't realized he spoke any of the Asian languages. But he exchanged a few words she thought might be Japanese with the crewman at the door before he came back to her…bearing a laden tray.
Buffy took a deep breath. Whatever was on the tray smelled damned good. He noticed her reaction and gave her one of his unpleasant smiles.
"Hungry, lover?" She threw him a dirty look. He chuckled, setting the tray down on the table. As she had half suspected he might, he came back, lifted her from the bed, and settled down at the table with her in his lap again.
"Oh, please," she complained. "This 'feed the invalid' bit is even older than the books you're reading to me."
"Get used to it," he said callously, reaching over her for another ceramic spoon. "I'm not turning you loose just yet." She glared at him, her jaw set stubbornly, her lower lip pouting out. He chuckled. "C'mon babe, I know you're starving. Eat up." She gave an exasperated sigh, but she accepted the spoonful of broth he fed her.
The soup was a little different from what she'd had for breakfast; meat instead of fish, rice instead of noodles, with an egg custardy thing mixed in. It managed to taste quite good. The soup wasn't all. Angelus poured her a cup of green tea from an earthenware pot, then deftly maneuvered a pair of wooden chopsticks first around one of a plate full of delicate gyozo dumplings, then through a side dish of seaweed salad with ginger dressing. He looked her in the eyes as he fed her. She could see how much he enjoyed keeping her helpless. She met his gaze, but it called for all her acting skills. She needed him to believe she was nothing more than resentful. She concentrated on the meal he was feeding her. Fortunately, everything was delicious, and he didn't have to work too hard to get her to finish it. When she had, he carefully blotted her mouth as he had that morning, then carried her to the bathroom, where he left her in peace.
Buffy's heart was racing. Had he realized what he'd done, the opportunity he had put within her reach? She thought not. Oh, God, please not! She finished up in a few minutes. When she came out, he was standing by the carton of books again. She walked slowly back to the table.
"Is there any more tea?" she asked casually.
"Should be," he said disinterestedly, leafing through a volume.
"Good," she said. His attention was on the book in his hands, but she knew better than to rely on his seeming absorption. His senses were acute. She awkwardly poured herself more tea, and drank it.
When she replaced the mug on the tray, she noiselessly picked up one of the two chopsticks.
Gripping it tightly, she let her hands fall in front of her, where she could use the voluminous fabric of her skirt to hide from him the deadly thing she held.
"What are we going to look at next?" she asked, giving herself an excuse to approach him.
"Euripedes," Angelus answered, still leafing through the book. His back was to her, and Buffy was grateful she would not have to look into the face of the man she loved when he turned to dust. "He really understood human nature. His heroes are self-interested bastards. Hell, even his gods were vicious SOBs. I'm thinking we should start with--"
She brought up her hands and struck with all her might for his heart from behind.
And found she had miscalculated.
He turned at the very moment she attacked, knocking the stake from her hands. It was as if he had known, a split second before she moved, that she was going to act. How? she had an instant to wonder before he viciously backhanded her. Buffy gasped as his claddagh caught her on the cheek and she felt her skin split. Angelus had put enough force behind the blow to knock her down…but he caught her before she fell to the floor.
"Aw, why'd you want to do that when we were playing so nice?" he said mockingly as he strode to the bed and tossed her onto it. "Although I gotta say I love the fact that you don't give up. Still the kitten squaring off against the lion. Gosh, Buff, that's so damned…cute." She tried to roll away, to get away from him, not in the least fooled by his affability. Angelus was a dangerously perverse creature. While she believed his claim that he enjoyed her resistance, Buffy realized that she had, at the same time, wounded his ego. By resisting him, rather than submitting tamely, she had enraged him, offending his male pride. One way or another, he would make her suffer for it. She would be damned if she let him do so without a fight.
She swung her bound hands toward him like a club, catching him in the jaw hard enough to knock his head back. Taking swift advantage of his momentary incapacity, Buffy rolled quickly aside, getting to her feet. She spun toward the door, but before she had taken more than a single step, his hands locked about her waist and he pulled her, struggle as she would, back onto the mattress. For a moment they battled for dominance. Then, with a growl, he was over her, pinning her beneath him, his mouth capturing hers with bruising pressure, fangs distended and cutting open her lips. When blood rose to the cuts, he sucked it down, the gesture so primal, so animalistic, she couldn't help but whimper. She had a moment's panic. Had she pushed him too far? He had said he would wait to turn her, but had her attack changed his mind? Fear added it's adrenaline rush to her already pounding heart. Angelus could smell the delectable scent of her terror. He growled again, in satisfaction this time, and deepened the kiss. He didn't need to breath and didn't seem to care that she did. By the time he broke the kiss, she was breathless and dizzy.
"Did you really think I'd be that easy, babe? That I couldn't hear you pick up that bit of wood? Or that you can get away from me on this ship?" he demanded between punishing kisses. "You have a lot to learn. And I am so going to enjoy teaching you." Angelus pulled at her clothing. Only moderately reassured by his failure to drain her immediately, Buffy increased her struggles, alarmed by both his words and by the deadly cold tone in which he had said them. But the dress was no hindrance to him, as easy to remove as it was to put on. The panties had never been replaced. She fought him, the kitten showing her claws. But he was still enjoying the benefits of her blood and she was still too weak to battle him with the degree of ferocity needed to win.
He had her naked in seconds, her hands pinned over her head. He didn't bother undressing himself, just freed his cock, and forced himself inside her, with no foreplay and no preparation.
It was every bit as bad as she had feared it would be. He was hurting her. She was dry and he was large and unlike the time that morning, he was not worried about her discomfort. Buffy tried to bite back her cry of pain but he knew what he made her feel. He smirked down at her, then dipped his head to lick at the blood daubing her cheek. His moan of pleasure as her blood hit his tongue sounded in her ear. Weeping, she tried to pull away far enough to deny him at least that satisfaction.
He meant to teach her that she could deny him nothing.
Angelus buried the hand not confining her wrists into her hair, holding her head still. His body drove relentlessly into hers, his tongue rasping now along the wound on her cheek, now along the cuts to her lip. His grip was unbreakable; she only hurt her neck trying to free herself. She stopped fighting, stopped moving at all. She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the sight of him, and lay perfectly still, just enduring him, just trying to survive him.
He knew what she was doing. The last time she had tried to be indifferent to him, he had enjoyed making her feel pleasure despite her will. This time, he had a darker lesson for her. This time, he meant to show her that, if he wanted to, he could make her body feel pleasure despite her pain. Oh, nothing too extreme: her Slayer's stamina notwithstanding, she was a little too new to these games for him to go as far as he could. He wasn't going to go for damage, just a little discomfort, just a little hurting. Just enough to humiliate her…
Angelus had licked all the blood from her cuts, which had been so superficial they were already closing, healing. He pulled his hand from her hair, and brought her bound wrists down and over his head, so that she unwillingly embraced him. With both hands now free, he used one to brutally pinch her tender nipples, the other to attack her sensitive clit. No delicate teasing, this time. He pressed firmly, rubbing the little bud of flesh in a quick, forceful rhythm. Her lovely hazel eyes flew open and she drew in a ragged, sobbing breath.
Buffy moaned as fire streaked through her, arching her back to fit her breast more firmly against his cruel fingers, trying to ease the pressure, trying to increase it. She no longer knew which. Angelus was thrusting so hard inside her she felt he might split her apart at any moment. It had been painful and frightening. Now…she wanted him to. She wanted him inside her as deeply as she could get him, and the minimal pain he was making her feel was a small price to pay for the rapture that was building.
He smiled when she began moving, her hips lifting to him, following the rhythm he set her. Faster he moved, and faster. Harder. He was all but pounding her into the mattress. And she was letting him. No: she was helping him.
She was so perfectly his mate, he realized. Buffy herself knew it, in her blood and in her bones, however much she might deny it in her conscious mind. His passion for her was all encompassing, violent, obsessive. But she did not fear it…because her passion for him was every bit as consuming. An ordinary human woman could never have survived his lovemaking, but then an ordinary human woman could never have roused in him such a tempest of desire. Even his vampire mates, who relished the subtleties and nuances of physical pain and cultivated his darker urges, had never been able to elicit the depth of arousal that Buffy could incite in him with a glance, a word, a gesture.
Angelus groaned as her tight little channel, which had grown slick and wet, gloved him, clenching around him as he forced her closer to her peak. He was going to have to teach her how to do that deliberately, but that could wait. Right now he had another lesson in mind.
She was moaning softly, her head tossing from side to side. He was no longer kissing her, but hovering over her, the better to watch the play of emotions across her exquisite countenance as he made her respond to him. He watched the lovely color suffusing her face and neck and breast, felt her nipples tighten into hard little buds, heard her heart racing and her blood rush through her veins. And he felt her womanhood grasping around his cock.
And then he felt her begin to fall over the edge, her body arching up into his, her sweet cries sounding in his ears. He smiled down at her. She was incomparably beautiful when she came for him. The moment was almost perfect. He moved to bring it to full perfection. Angelus bent his head and took a nipple into his mouth…then bit down.
Buffy screamed, pain lancing through her from her wounded breast. Horribly, Angelus was worrying the wound, not enough to do any permanent damage, but enough to keep the pain from fading.
But not enough to end the incredible pleasure of her orgasm.
That was the true horror for her: that she could want him even when he was hurting her, that she could find ecstasy with him even when he gave her pain. She knew this was deliberate punishment, mild compared to what he might have done when she attacked him. She would be lucky if this were the worst he did to her. But it was appalling, humiliating. More so because she simply couldn't fight what he made her feel. Helpless, she let both pain and pleasure crash over her, surging against him, giving him as much of herself as he desired to take.
He could get drunk on the blood that was pooling in his mouth. The little wound he made wasn't providing as much of that nectar as he got when he bit into her graceful neck, but it was still a delicacy to savor. He did so, drawing it out slowly, fighting back the urge to bite more deeply, to drink more fully, knowing that even a Slayer's resources weren't inexhaustible. Instead, he concentrated on the glorious feel of her surrounding him with her wet heat, her hips pushing up to him, her body pressing against him. Eventually her orgasm ebbed, and she calmed, quieted. Gently, he removed his fangs from her breast, licking the wound soothingly.
But he wasn't quite finished with his treacherous little pet.
He grasped her hips with both hands and lifted. She had come. He hadn't. Ruthlessly, he rammed into her again, going ever deeper, ever harder, ever faster. Her bruised body resisted at first, but as it had before, quickly capitulated. She met his fury, and sated his lust. They moved together with the rage and passion of a storm long in building. He felt himself getting closer to the heart of that storm, and knew that he was pushing her toward the same destination. Her womanhood rippled around him in anticipation, and that was enough.
With a roar of satisfaction he spilled into her, knowing that he was leaving her just short of her own peak. Another lesson. But right now, lessons didn't matter to him, right now what mattered was burying himself as deeply into Buffy Summers as his flesh could get, making himself a part of her, forcing her to be part of him, wedding her sunlit beauty to his illimitable darkness. He continued to thrust furiously until even his vampiric desires were fully met, and the last of his release shuddered through him. He collapsed over her for a moment, but only a moment. She had closed her eyes again, not able to face him.
But he had left her on the verge of another orgasm and he could tell that she was strung taut. He smiled, rolling off her body…and then moving between her thighs.
His tongue lashed her clit before she understood his intent. She gasped, but her hips slammed instinctively upward as her body opened for him. In seconds he had her bucking against his mouth, crying out as another orgasm ripped through her. This time, there was no pain, but the pleasure was still intimate and appalling. Buffy screamed his name…the name he wanted her to scream, as she was rocked by wave after wave of rapture. He bit down with blunted teeth and sucked with avidity, prolonging the moment for her. She keened in satisfaction.
He forced her to two more hot, quick peaks, until she was begging him to stop, until pleasure had gone the circle and was about to become pain again as her abused, bruised flesh reached its limits. This time, he stopped just short of pain.
His face wet with her juices, he covered her once more, forcing her to kiss him, to taste herself on his mouth. Virginally, she was repelled…at first. But in the end, she kissed him back.
When he was sure that the final lesson had sunk in, Angelus rolled away from her once more. She lay where he left her, not even trying to pull the covers around herself. He chuckled, getting up from the bed.
Angelus knew what kept her immobile and listless on the bed. Not just a surfeit of pleasure. Pain hadn't been the only point of the lesson. Buffy Summers always saw the best in everyone, always believed that people were basically good. Even Angel had never been able to make her see the darkness within. But Angelus had.
In making her respond to him despite his mistreatment of her, he had taught her a lesson in darkness; that it existed inside Buffy herself as surely as it did within the most heinous evil she had ever confronted. All things told, Angelus was extremely pleased with how things were going. It made him feel magnanimous. He got rid of his own clothing and rejoined her, gathering up the covers, turning on his side and pulling her into his arms. She had better sense than to protest.
He pulled her tight against his body, dropping light kisses on the top of her head. He heard her give a small, defeated sigh and smiled. In a few minutes, the regular sound of her breathing told him she slept.
Angelus let his hand drift along her body, coming to rest on the breast he had wounded. He delicately fingered the tiny mark, and she whimpered in her sleep. He opened his hand then, cupping her entire breast. Another sigh as she moved unconsciously to seek more of his touch.
Smiling, Angelus feel asleep entwined with his beloved captive.
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The Silken Cage: Journey