Skin Deep
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Author: Dark Star Email: eternity_ds@hotmail.com Website: Dark Star's
Portal Summary: Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Disclaimer: Joss Whedon is creator and owner of all things Angel Rating: Adult (NC 17) Warning: This story contains imagery some people might
find disturbing. Notes: This is the 10th part of my S&M series, Harsh
Reality. This story picks up immediately after Three
Months. Pairing: B/A Category:
Dark Distribution: Just ask, please. * He smiles at her, making her stomach flip over, and
kisses her so hard she can't breathe. But she doesn't care, and when he
comes, she feels it; feels every twitch and spasm, and it sets her off into
another orgasm of her own. Together, sated and exhausted, they sleep. * Buffy wakes first. The first thing she sees is Angel's
dark hair against the pillow, and her gaze travels down his face, past the curve
of his lips, and settles on the black collar. Slowly, so as not to wake him,
she raises her hand and touches the soft leather. She loves that
collar, it suits him, and she loves what it stands for. But she feels a
little sad, because she supposes that she won't be able to use it now that
they are back together. There are still bruises on Angel's chest and arms, and she
thinks that he is probably hungry, too. Some blood would help both of those
problems, and she slips quietly out of bed and goes downstairs naked to heat
him some up. He opens his eyes when she puts the blood on the table
next to the bed. "Thank you, B…" his voice trails off when he
remembers where he is, uncertain if he is allowed to use her name now that
the session is over. They still inhabit the room. Buffy sits on the edge of the bed, and holds his hand.
"We can't talk here. When you have drunk your blood, we'll go back to
our room." He doesn't miss the 'our' in her sentence, and he quickly
downs his blood. His mind is in turmoil. Is it over? Has she forgiven him
now? Buffy pulls on her clothes while she waits for Angel to
finish his blood and get dressed. Oddly, he leaves her collar on until just
before they leave the room, and she wonders why he did that. Was it in deference
to her? They walk back to their room in
silence. She has missed him, and this room has felt empty without him. He
hesitates in the bedroom, uncertain what she expects of him now. She goes
over to the bed, sits herself on the covers and indicates that he should join
her. This is familiar, because it's how they sit when they have something to
discuss. He leans against the headboard and raises his arm. She wriggles
closer, against his chest, and there is an awkward silence because nobody
wants to speak first. Finally, Buffy says, "Somebody is supposed to start
talking here." Angel clears his throat. "Am I… What do you want to
do now?" Buffy hesitates because there is so much she wants to say
to him, but she doesn't know how to start. She looks up at him, and the words
out of her mouth aren't what she meant to say. "I've missed you." He meets her gaze, and runs his fingers over her cheek. He
has missed her too, more than he ever thought possible. The two weeks when he
didn't know if she would take him back were worse than all the pain she put
him through during the following weeks, because then, he knew that there at
least was a chance. Her eyes close as he lowers his head and touches his lips
against hers. The kiss is tender, saying everything that he has no words for.
They make love for the first time in weeks on their own bed, and that is
tender too. No words are necessary. It is only the next morning that they realise that they
have not talked about what will happen, and neither of them feels inclined to
bring it up. Buffy knows how much Angel needs his sessions and expects
him to broach the subject at some point. Weeks pass and normality returns to
their relationship. Nothing is said about the Room, and Angel makes no
attempt to ask for a session. But she can read him, and she can tell that he
is getting restless. She is afraid that he will start to look elsewhere for
his pleasure if he won't ask her, and she would ask him, but if he
says yes then she will have to suffer a great deal of pain for it. It's only when he starts going out
more, staying away from her too many nights that she makes her decision. She goes to the Room and fetches his collar. She takes it
back to their room and lays it on top of the bed for him to find when he comes
home. How will he react to that? Will he be angry, or pleased? She's too
nervous; she leaves the collar on the bed and goes out herself, to find
something to occupy her. Two demons and a vampire later, she returns to the hotel
and hesitates before going into their room. What if Angel hasn't come back
yet? What if he has, and laughs at her? She steels herself and goes into their room. The collar
has gone. Has he put it away, or is he wearing it? She should go along to the
Room to find out, but she can't. She goes for a shower first to calm herself
down. She is trembling when she gets dressed, and knows it's ridiculous to
feel so nervous. She finally heads down the hall and ignores the
somersaulting of her stomach. Will he be there waiting for her? He is there. Naked, except for her collar, he is kneeling
on the floor, his expression solemn. How long has he been here? Waiting for
her? Now that she is here, she isn't sure what she wants to do. This
time, things are different because he is here of his own free will; there is
no punishment to be had, no misdemeanour to make up for. She stands in front of him. His eyes are fixed on her, but
he says nothing. He is assuming the old rules are still in place, then. Okay…
she should clarify that. "I enjoyed those sessions where I was in control,
Angel. I missed them when… we stopped doing it. Things are a bit different
now, I'm not mad at you any more. I want to continue our sessions, and I'm
ready now to do what you wanted to do years ago." He gives her a
questioning look, but still says nothing. "You wanted to take it in
turns," she reminds him. "We both know you need this more than I
do, so I don't think we need to do that. But every… fourth session is mine.
Do you agree?" He frowns. "You shouldn't have…" She scowls, and says sharply, "Yes or no, Angel.
That's all I want." "Yes." "Good." She lowers her head and tells him he can
respond before she kisses him fiercely; they are both breathing hard when she
pulls away. "The rules stay. You do what I want, when I want it. Is that
okay with you?" "Yes." His answer pleases her, but she doesn't know yet how she
wants to play it, so she asks, "Do you like it when I tell you what to
do?" "Yes." His voice sounds dry, and when his eyes
meet hers, her stomach twitches. She lowers her voice. "Do you like it when I hurt you?" "Yes." His voice is lower too, and the twitch in
her gut turns into a tight knot. "Then we'll start with that," she tells him, and
she notices the almost imperceptible tightening in his jaw, but it is enough
to tell her that he is looking forward to the evening. She takes his hand, and leads him over to the wall chains.
She is not planning real pain for him tonight, nothing he cannot easily
accommodate. Tonight is merely the introduction she
chooses back into the sessions and, she hopes secures Angel's fidelity. Next time will be her turn. * She lies face down on the bed, arms by her side. She is
not bound. On the bed next to her lie a small pair of pliers, and a box is
open, spewing the colourful contents over the top and onto the bed. Angel steps back to survey the scene. The sheet is crisp
white cotton, and her pale unblemished skin looks dark in comparison.
Tonight, he wants to do something different, and the artist in his soul wants
to play another game. This isn't about pain, it's about the aesthetic
pleasure that he gains from her body and he wants to complement her in a way
he hasn't done in a long time. He hopes it will be an acceptable introduction
back into the sessions for her. He reaches across to the box, takes out a needle and
positions himself carefully beside her. He pinches the skin of her back and
pushes the needle slowly through it. Buffy can feel the pinch of skin, and
the prick of the needle sliding through, and she manages to not make a sound.
Her skin feels taut when he lets it slip back into place, and she can feel
the tingle where the needle is located. Leaving the needle in place, Angel takes another needle
from the box and repeats the process on the opposite side of her back,
careful to make the needles level with each other. He continues down both sides of her back, nine needles
each side, and stops every so often to reposition them so that they are
completely symmetrical. Some of them bleed, and he stops to clean them in the
traditional vampire way. Each needle makes Buffy's back ache more, and the
cleaning of the blood helps to alleviate that. By the time he has reached halfway, Buffy is gritting her
teeth and trying not to flinch with each small stab of pain. She knows she
must not move or the needles will locate badly, and she forces herself to lie
still. Somehow this is worse than being tied, because then, you don't have to
worry about moving too much; here, she must pay attention and concentrate. Eventually, the final needle goes into place and Angel
steps back and admires the way the curving lines of the needles mimic the
contours of her body. Buffy relaxes, knowing the first part of the process is
over. It hadn't been excruciating, but the small pains had accumulated into a
much bigger one, and her back is tender. It feels strange; pinched and
unnatural, and she moves her shoulder experimentally. "If you want to stretch, do it now," Angel tells
her. "In a moment you will have to stay still while I complete the next
part." Buffy does not attempt to get up, but she gently flexes
her arms and legs so as not to disturb the pins. When she is more
comfortable, she rests back on the bed and waits. She hears the rustle and
chink of metal as he takes things from the box, and out of the corner of her
eye she sees him pick up the pliers. She tries to hold still as he squeezes
one of the needles buried in her skin and pulls it out, immediately inserting
a metal ring in its place. He uses the pliers to fasten the ring and when
it's secured, he lets the tingling skin relax again. Slowly, meticulously, Angel replaces every needle with a secured
ring, and afterwards, he licks up the blood, enjoying the feel of her body
squirming underneath him. He stands up, and is pleased with the rings. She
has eighteen, nine each side, all beautifully symmetrical. Good. Climbing onto the bed and cautiously straddling her hips
so that he is centralised to her body, Angel pulls out a long piece of red
ribbon from the box, and carefully threads the ribbon through each of the
rings, making a neat criss-cross pattern down the centre of her back. He has
to pull the ribbon fairly taut, and he knows that it hurts her, but he
doesn't exert enough pressure to tear the rings out. It will spoil the
design. He finishes by tying the ribbon into a smart bow at waist level. "Beautiful," he tells her, pride evident in his
voice. "You look gorgeous." "Can I see?" Angel slides agilely from her body, and offers his hand.
She takes the hand, and lets him help her up. She tries to ignore the nagging
voice in her head that says she never used to need help this early in the
evening. She moves very slowly, so as not to dislodge the rings and ribbon,
even though she knows they are securely in place. Angel takes her over to the full length mirror, normally
turned round to face the wall because Buffy hates to see what he does to her,
and turns it round. Buffy angles herself so that she can look back over her
shoulder, and what she sees makes her gasp. The ribbon is bright against her
pale skin, and the rings glint where the light catches them. Even the redness
has almost gone from her skin. Angel has made a neat job on her back, and the
design looks like the lacing of a corset, but stitched directly into the
skin. "That's pretty," she says, her eyes wide. "So are you," he says softly, and she looks up
at him. He takes her hand again and leads her over to the desk, where he gets
her to sit on the edge. He kneels down in front of
her, and tells her to drape her legs over his shoulders. She does as he
wants, and uses her hand to balance herself on the desk. If she looks back
over her shoulder she can still see the corset lacing reflected in the
mirror. The coolness of his tongue shocks her back to the present,
and she moans as he tastes her. She wants to lie back on the desk, but she
afraid of damaging the design, and she's too sore to want to have to go
through it all again. There will be no other back play tonight. The needle-play has aroused her, and Angel lets her come
several times with his mouth against her cunt and his tongue pressed inside
her. She tries not to move too much, and she watches the design moving in the
mirror in time to her squirms and moans, and she is shaking and drained when
he finishes with her. She is panting when she looks down at him. His eyes are
incredibly dark, and unexpectedly, he says, "I'm sorry." The odd words take a moment to register through her
muddled thoughts. "For what?" she manages. "For what I put you through," he says gently. "You do what you have to." "Do I?" he says sharply, standing up and setting
her legs back on the floor. She doesn't want to stand yet, but she makes her
trembling limbs support her and she stands to face him. Something is going on
in his head, and she doesn't understand yet what it is. "I think we should end the session here," he
says abruptly. "What are you talking about?" She is confused;
they have done nothing of any real pain and Angel has never bailed on her
before. "I… I almost lost you," he admits, and she sees
the pain he is trying to hide. "Because you lied to me," she tells him.
"Not because of this." He shakes his head. "I think it was. Buffy… I wanted
tonight to be different for you. Beautiful. But… I…" "You need more," she finishes for him when his
voice trails away, and her stomach clenches. When he doesn't answer, she
adds, "The corset is beautiful." Angel does not respond, and Buffy isn't sure what to do.
Angel has asked to finish the session. She knows she should agree to that,
and escape early, unscathed. But… he is clearly upset. If they break now, she
is afraid he won't ask again and will seek out somebody else to play with.
She can't bear the thought of him with another woman. "This is your session," she tells him carefully.
"Not mine. The choice of what we do is yours. Completely yours. Do you…
want to hurt me?" He makes an odd sound, and the look in his eyes is bitter.
"I always want to hurt you." Buffy's eyes widen, but she says nothing, waiting for him
to continue. "You're so beautiful,"
Angel murmurs, rubbing his thumb gently against her cheek. "There's
never a time that I don't want to touch you, love you. But…I am what I am,
and the need to hurt you is strong." His eyes close briefly before admitting, "So
strong. It's always there, and I fight so hard against it… but in here… I don't
have to." He lets his hand drop back to his side. "That can't be
good for us." "Since when have we ever
done what is good for us?" She smiles, trying to lighten his mood, but
he doesn't return the smile. "Angel… what we do is consensual. You don't
ever force me to do anything. Not really. I always have the last word, and if
I said no, you would stop, wouldn't you?" "Yes." He frowns.
"Why don't you?" She shrugs. "Damned if I
know. Stubborn, I guess." She sees his body relax, and she touches his
arm gently. "Do you want to start again?" His eyes meet hers, and he says
quite deliberately, "I want to hurt you. I want to mark your body to
make you mine, and I really want to hear you scream. Is that what you
want?" She swallows, and thinks what a really
strange conversation they're having. "It's what we're here for, isn't
it?" He kisses her then, and she
suspects it's to give him time to compose himself. He straightens afterwards,
and lets his gaze drop down to her chest. His fingertips caress the white
skin of her breast. Soft, so very soft to the touch. Why is the skin softer
here than anywhere else on her body? "We need to give you some
colour, don't we? Some pretty purple bruises?" He watches her reaction
as he speaks. "How about some strap marks here?" his fingers press
against her breasts, roving freely over them and showing the potential
location of the proposed decoration. Her jaw tightens in response to his
words, and to his thumb teasing her nipple. The crop will also make some very
pleasing lines there, and it usually provokes some equally enjoyable sounds
from her. He smiles. "Come into my
parlour," he says in a voice that promises beautiful and terrifying
things. When he takes her hand, she does not resist. End. Part 11 - Watcher Return to Fiction Index
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