Threads of Control

SUMMARY: Someone has a little too much control for Angelus’ liking.
POSTED: 13 Jul 2009
WARNINGS: Explicit Sexual Content, Language, Domination
STATUS: Complete


He never spoke out loud, but the suggestion to stay quiet was written in darkly lit tigers’ eyes. She wisely complied and eased a breath out through quivering lips. Her hands shook, body temperature dropping as a tidal wave of fear began to choke her up. She gripped the hem of her dress tightly to stop the shaking, to stop the begging before it left her useless throat.

She would never get on her knees and beg like a dog, not for anyone. Not for him, never for him. If he thought she ever would, he was sadly mistaken.

Don’t you trust me?

Again, no words were spoken, but they were right there on his handsome face. A calloused thumb wiped away a single stray tear as it trickled down her cheek, heating up chilled skin with secrets. The orbs she stared into flicked once, the flash of gold lightening burned right through her soul.


The compliment would have been flattering, if it didn’t fall from a crocodile’s smile. All those razor sharp teeth, she knew, were just itching to tear into her skin, and she knew they would. Could already feel them biting down, slicing through butter soft flesh and his tongue…

A tiny moan was swallowed back as the ghostly feel of his tongue traced her throat, while hungry lips drank slowly, his chest rumbled with purrs of delight as she burst in his mouth.

You want that?

He stood and watched, amused, as slender fingers unconsciously rose up to her neck, red nails scraped enticingly down the slim line of her jugular. He grinned, once more showing her what she’d given herself over to. All alone, with a predator ready and willing to tear her apart, piece by piece, until there nothing left.

She’d come to him one night, with those jewelled eyes full of tears, dirt and blood smudged across her face. The tears and dirt and blood had been momentarily distracting, but not half so much as the blazing anger that escaped her split mouth.

Mistaken identity she’d said and wanted no part of it. Some vampire who claimed to have the Hellmouth ownership papers had witnessed their bout of rough and tumble, got the wrong idea, and sent her to him with a message.

That message had been a split lip and bloody nose. A warning for him to lay off the claimed territory. She could have gone to the slayer but she hadn’t, she’d come straight to him. He was the lesser of two evils. Know the enemy and all that, plus the slayer couldn’t give the protection she’d now need.

Clever girl, he thought, beauty and brains. A combination which he found intoxicating. A tad too intoxicating perhaps, but that was half the fun. Especially for him.

He remembered how Cordelia had stood there at the doors, the delicious combination of rage and terror rolling off her in waves as he’d graciously invited her in, just so she could freshen up a little. Of course she hadn’t needed too, he thought she looked just fine the way she did.

She looked just fine right now, standing in front of him with those jewelled eyes almost daring him to whatever he wanted. Long dark waves shone like a winter frost and the contrast between her hair and his skin fascinated him.


The praise was spoken by way of hair falling through thick fingers and into a roughened palm, giving him the urge to bunch it up tight. He did and she moaned, the sound went straight to his cock.

He’d been surprised when she’d come to him, not only because it was unexpected, but because it’d taken some of his control over the slayer’s friends. A mere slip of a girl, one who’d screamed and cowered under him, was standing outside of his mansion furiously giving him hell.

He knew then she wouldn’t be easy to take down, far from it in fact. She’d done something worse than become his obsession, she’d taken his control. And when a vampire like Angelus lost control, he simply took it right back.

You like that.

The silent statement ricocheted off the walls and his hand flexed round the strands of hair, tugging her head back so he could look down into melted toffee. He smirked at the sheen of perspiration on her skin. He imagined what went through that pretty little head of hers.

She was aroused because of him, aroused for him. No matter how good she got it from him, he’d bet big that by the time she got home, her body would be screaming for more. Yet it wasn’t the arousal that made the impact on him, it was the desperation. She was as desperate to feel his touch just as she was desperate to not want it.

It was an addiction, pure and simple.

Her hands were touching his stomach, he didn’t like that. She was getting far too needy, far too soon, and he needed to stop her taking more of his control. Angelus let her hair go and forcefully pushed her away hard enough to make her stumble. He waited patiently.

Cordelia glared at him through hair and lashes, defiantly lifted her chin and refused to cower, regardless of the fear constantly thrumming through her veins. A shaky hand pushed the hair away, leaving him to freely stare at the storms clouding her eyes.

He merely backed away, pleased he’d gotten some of what she took. He controlled her emotions, could make her feel whatever he wanted, but it only mildly placated him.

“I won’t beg,” her chest heaved with the effort it took to speak, “I won’t.”

Won’t you?

The arching of an arrogant eyebrow said it all. She bristled and he chuckled, knowing full well he had something she didn’t.

Patience was a virtue. He could play with something for hours, just twirling it between his fingers and studying every part, taking in every minute detail until he knew how to take it apart. He liked doing that with people. Knowing how they thought, what made them tick, what they held dear, and what they did not. Patience was a skill explained in a few sentences, yet took years to master.

Patience made him who he was.

“Bastard,” she hissed and he wondered how long it would take for her claws to unsheathe.

He simply smiled benignly, his bare feet walking him back towards his bed. She watched him through hellish eyes and stood straight, never once loosing track of the predator who kept her close.

Angelus once said it was stupid of her to trust him, and she had replied a smart person would pretend to. Friends close and enemies closer, and all of that. He had smiled at her, in the just the same way as he had done seconds ago, like he was the one pretending to trust.

An old saying came to mind, something about spiders and flies, but it didn’t stay long and she was left thinking about nothing but the vampire. It never went well when she thought of him. It only led to his name leaving her lips in a breathless whisper. Sometimes she was pinned under him when that happened, and sometimes she had to pretend her hands were his because she was tucked up in bed.

The latter didn’t always mean his name came out breathlessly, but neither did it mean she was always left unsatisfied.

“Take your clothes off.”

Cordelia didn’t flinch at the deep sound even though it was the first time he’d spoken all night. It was her turn to be quiet, and she did so while watching Angelus laze against the head of his bed. His bed, not theirs. It would never be their bed.She wouldn’t let it become their bed. Much too dangerous.

The amusement left his gaze and black turned to ice, she knew he wouldn’t ask again.

Nimble fingers shook as they untied the wrap holding her top secure, the soft fabric slithered against her skin and soundlessly hitting the floor as she dropped it. He stared as perfect white teeth bit her lower lip hard and the coppery tang of blood hit the air and coated her tongue.

She glared as he turned into the vampire without changing faces. His nostrils flared and he callously smirked, licking his lips in a hungered gesture that caused her heart to thunder. He heard it, tasted it, probably felt it all happen inside her as her top slid over her shoulders to leave teasing inches of tanned skin open for him to see.

Angelus made no secret of the fact he was enjoying every second of this and shamelessly sat back, giving her a view of her very own. He knew the black boxer shorts hid nothing, but getting her naked while he was still clothed was just one more measure of control. His digits caught her attention as they drew patterns on his solid thigh, going higher with every feathery stroke.

It was the swell of firm breasts that made his hand move high enough to languidly trace the shape of his cock and he grinned at the sharp intake of breath. He was getting to her, wearing her down piece by piece until he was everything to her. He wondered how long she would hold out on him.

He wondered how long he’d let her hold out on him, because he could break her in half if he wanted too. Almost had broken her in half the first time. He hadn’t put on a show for her, there had been no candles and flowers, no romantic music, no fantastical thing that would rock her world. There had just been him and her, in this very room, in this very bed, and he’d be damned if she hadn’t loved every fucking second of it.

She hadn’t climaxed the first time, not many inexperienced women did. The second time had been so very, very different, and his bed had been soaked with hot sticky female juice. He made her cum so much, she had been left high and dry.

“More,” his chest rattled with a husky tone, “More skin.”

More skin, more sweat, more blood.

No matter how much she gave, he wanted more.

How many times had he tried to make her cry so he could once more see the shine of tears? Taunting, teasing, cruelty to the point of brutality, and yet she hadn’t let it touch her. He’d known the instant when he’d held a dagger to her throat that the only way to make her cry, was to touch her heart.

That in itself had posed a question. What was her heart? Family? Friends? Her? Destroying all those things would break Cordelia Chase, but only on the inside, somewhere so deep inside, he wouldn’t be able to see it. With her, he needed a new tactic, something that would touch her very soul.

Most of the time Angelus knew his victims inside out, but he didn’t know her, he never did. A pity, really.

A perfectly good woman under his nose, one with the bravery to place her trust and life in the hands of someone who didn’t truly like her. A woman who had enough fire to put hell to shame. A woman who faced down the bastard who told her that, with joy in his heart, would kill her.

He’d ignored her in favour of physical strength and a connection to darkness.

The shame of it was almost enough to make him shed a tear.

It was that realisation that he’d known her, had known what lay under the designer clothes and sweet perfume. It was at that moment Angelus knew what made Cordelia Chase tick.

Why would a woman with her personality let herself be used as bait?

There were two answers to that. One was she had a heart, and the other was the secret she didn’t want anyone to know. He should have known when he’d taken her to the ground. There was a moment, one tiny little second, when those jewelled eyes grew wide and a snap of breath made her chest rise. Thinking back on it, Angelus fancied he could smell arousal, but their time together had been rudely cut too short.

Oh yes, the first lady of Sunnydale liked danger, liked excitement.

More than that, she craved it, longed for it so much, she turned up to the library every night to see if her help was needed. The boys she dated, the life she lived, all of it was nothing more than a disguise for what lay underneath.

The girl with the proper upbringing, the one with the world at her feet, wanted no more than what he had to offer.

She wanted someone strong enough to crack the shell and find the pearl hidden inside. Cordelia Chase wanted him, she needed him.

Angelus was crudely pulled from his thoughts by a pair of pert and full breasts encased in white cotton. That was his girl. White cotton, the symbol of purity and innocence. She knew him too well. God, this was dangerous and not just for her.

“Why do you keep coming to me?” He knew why, he justed wanted to hear it.

Fuck, he couldn’t even say it.

“Why do you never turn me away…” Her voice drifted off and the spark he loved so much appeared in her golden gaze. “Or kill me?”

“Bitch.” Fucking bitch, Angelus shoved his reactions down and his posture changed from lazing to predatorial in seconds. He was on his feet and in front of her before she could blink. She got him so furious, so fucking angry. Stealing the control away and leaving him bare, red raw, and naked as the day he was born.

“Don’t you know it’s impolite to swear in front of a lady?” Cordelia tilted her head to one side and stare up at him, not intimidated by the closeness. He initiated the closeness, he could deal with the consequences.

“Don’t you know not to question me?” He wanted to take her hard, shove her against the wall, and be inside that tight needy cunt of hers. He couldn’t because that would mean she got her answers, it would mean she got more control.

“Don’t you know not to answer a question with a question?” She smirked and he felt the hot hands of hell reaching up to pull him down.

His own hand, much cooler than those grabbing him, was up and around her throat, thick fingers stroking and squeezing the throbbing pulse point. It was far too calm for his liking.

He snarled and squeezed harder, then the relief came. So did the fear he relied on. It filled her body, came off her in suffocating waves, and his eyes rolled back in pleasure. Once again, he pushed her away, and this time it was hard enough to send her to the floor.

Cordelia stifled the gasp that came with the sting of carpet burns and strangled throat. She glared up at the vampire and tried to see why he never answered her question. “Don’t ever do that again,” the warning was hissed and the claws came out, just as he hoped.

Angelus looked down at the girl on his floor, his mouth set in a cruel smirk as his equally cruel gaze travelled over her breasts. From his point of view, he could see everything, right down to the dark pink nipples. He wanted to put his cock between those plump mounds and cum all over her. The sight of tanned skin white washed by him would be glorious.

That too much, too soon. He hadn’t even made her ride him yet.

Get up.

Angelus took a fistful of hair and tugged her head back, ensuring she could see the hell hiding behind his human fascade.

She didn’t flinch and he hated it.




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