Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Harry Potter
Rating: Hard R if not NC-17
Word Count: 1052
Summary: Angelus stumbles across the perfect Childe on the final bloody battlefield between the Light and the Dark.
Warnings: Violence, bloodplay, frottage, character death (sort of)
Note: This is something I started a while ago and just decided it was time to finish. Translations are at the end. Not beta’ed so if you see a mistake let me know. This is most likely finished and will not have a follow up.
When Angelus first laid eyes on him across the smoky and wonderfully bloody carnage of the battlefield, he knew he was looking at his future Childe. The man’s long white-blond hair flowed behind him like a cloak. He normally went for brunettes, but this man he couldn’t pass up. The viciousness that he witnessed as the man cut down his enemies brought a twisted parody of a smile to his face, one which his once Sweet William could never produce. He just didn’t have the passion for this, no matter how much he tried to force, beat, and rape it into him. But this man, he was perfection incarnate. Not wasting magic to cast spells, he just slashed through them with his sword as easily as he would cut paper. Various flying body parts, spurts of blood and screams followed his wake.
This battlefield was a vampire’s paradise, dead and dying and the occasional living bodies for the picking, and he gorged himself, wearing just as much blood if not more than he consumed. He knew he must be a delightfully gruesome sight, and when the man finally saw him, he rewarded him with a dropped jaw, and widened eyes before the mask was firmly set back into place.
Before the blond had a chance to react, Angelus was upon him chest to chest, one hand gripping his wrist so hard his suddenly nerveless fingers convulsively dropped the sword, and the other grabbing a fistful of that silky hair and forcing his head to harshly arch back and their eyes to meet. His wand appear in his free hand, but before he could utter a word Angelus’ head dropped forward and sharp fangs prickled his throat in a starkly clear threat.
Still fisting his hair, Angelus let go of his wrist and quickly snatched the wand away, and quickly hid it in the folds of his clothes. He just barely bit down, and the taste of the man’s blood flooded his senses. It was ambrosia burning through his veins and consuming him, a delectable treat that he wanted to savor for a long time to come. His tongue darted out to soothe the pulse beating maddeningly against his lips and he was rewarded with a needy groan that was quickly bitten off.
He gave one last swipe with his tongue before raising his head to admire the sight before him. Pale cheeks were flushed with color, eyes were clenched shut, and that full mouth was slightly parted allowing tiny puffs of air to escape. He was the prettiest picture of debasement and he wanted more of it. “What is your name, mo álainn bás (my beautiful death)?”
The man’s eyes flew open revealing stormy eyes darkened with passion and shock. He suddenly came to life, jerking and struggling against the tight hands holding him in place, but he might as well have been fighting against steel chains for all the give he got and use it did. His struggles continued for minutes, but it seemed so much longer. Quickly tiring, he stilled and quietly gasped for breath before squeezing his eyes shut and dropping his head back in submission, waiting for the death that would surely come. But more long minutes passed, and no movement was made, no pain or death was received.
“I asked you a question, mo álainn bás. I expect an answer,” Angelus all but purred.
The man shuddered, eyes still tightly shut but managed to force out in a stead voice, “Lucius Malfoy.”
“Hmm, what a wonderfully contradictory name. Fitting. Yes you will be mo sólás.” With that his head descended again, but this time he didn’t tease. No this time he bit deeply and drank heavily.
Lucius’ eyes flew open and his mouth dropped in shock. He expected pain, not this earth shattered pleasure and couldn’t stop the moans that emerged from his throat. He’d been half hard since before the encounter, high on bloodlust and power. But now he hardened to the point of pain faster than he’d ever managed before, harder than he’d ever been. He squirmed looking for relief, the nursing on his neck just making his spiral higher and higher. He thrust forward and was rewarded with an answering hardness against his thigh and a leg that pushed harshly between his, rubbing tantalizingly, teasingly.
An embarrassingly needy cry was ripped from his lips, shockingly loud in the general silence of the battlefield. He closed his eyes as his head started to spin and black spots began to fill his vision. He could feel his heart struggling to pump the little blood left throughout his body, but he didn’t care as long as the pleasure never ended. A hand cupped his ass bringing him still closer, and with one last hard draw and swipe of the tongue the head raised and a bleeding wrist for forced into his mouth. At the first taste his body shuddered in pleasure and he almost choked as the sweet coppery liquid poured in so fast. Small steams of it flowed from each side of his mouth before he latched on, sucking for all he was worth.
His hips rocked faster and harder in a desperate need to cum, and in response Angelus laughed mockingly before forcing his thigh harder between his legs, rubbing harshly and gripping his ass almost to the point of pain. But the pain mixed with the pleasure bringing it even higher. With one last swallow he wrenched his head back and screamed his pleasure for the world to hear. Angelus slanted his mouth over his, silencing the cry, enjoying the mixture of tastes, his own blood and something that was uniquely Lucius, and shuddered as his own release overtook him, strength of will the only thing keeping them on their feet.
Lucius went limp as the pleasure crashed over him through him. His heart stuttered and he couldn’t seem to draw enough air into his burning lungs. But he didn’t care; all that mattered was the wonderful feelings coursing through him. His heart gave one last struggling beat and his head lolled back, before silence again reigned over the battlefield.
Angelus leered at the body in his arms. Yes this one would do well, would forever be mo álainn bás agus sólás, mo paisean.
Gaelic to English Translation (I in no way profess to know Gaelic. These come from an online translation site).
mo álainn bás – my beautiful death
mo sólás – my light
agus – and
mo paisean – my passion