*****

Giles:

There was music in the dark, something from his youth . . . heavily amplified guitars giving way to synthesized keyboards. Then it all faded away, melting into a queer, buzzing silence. He knew he was unconscious, but it didn't feel like sleep. It felt like a coma.

The nearer he got to consciousness, the more he hurt. Everywhere. His head throbbed and his torso was a mass of contusions, his fingers ached and he knew he had cuts on his face. Vague memories came back of Drusilla and a band of minions gate-crashing the library. Those perfect red velvet shoes. She'd killed Kendra with a flick of her finger talons while Buffy had been off facing her own demon.

He remembered a brawl had ensued and Willow had been trapped under a bookcase. Xander was hurt, too. They were all hurt. And then Giles' memories went blank. He must have been knocked unconscious as fainting wasn't really his style.

Closer to the surface he rose and then he felt the cold floor. He became aware that he was face-down on what felt like polished marble and his glasses were bent and poking his cheek. For the first time, he tried to move and was unsuccessful. Trying to clear his head, he was suddenly thrust into glaring consciousness by a shooting pain in his side. God, broken ribs again. Just what he needed. But at least he was awake.

Blinking to clear his eyes, he raised his head and tried to focus on his surroundings. Much to his dismay, the first thing he saw were the wicked, glittering eyes of Angel.

"Hi, Rupert," the vampire said with cold cheer. "I wasn't sure you were gonna wake up. You had me worried."

Angel bounced to his feet and walked across the floor right beside Giles' prone, aching body. He seemed imbued with a liquid grace he had not possessed when his soul was in residence. It was almost as though the dark emptiness inside somehow made him nimble. He was also wearing a satiny-velvet shirt and leather trousers. Apparently when soulless, Angel preferred to dress like Elvis.

"What do you want?" Giles got himself standing using every ounce of his strength. He fumbled his glasses onto his face then blinked again to see where he was. The Mansion, clearly. My God, how the place had been fixed up. It looked like the insane half-child of Martha Stewart and Elvira.

"I want to torture you," Angel replied congenially. "I used to love it and it's been a long time. I mean, the last time I tortured somebody, they didn't even have chainsaws." He approached a large object in the middle of the vast room and it took Giles a moment before he realized what it was. When he did, his skin broke out in gooseflesh. There, with the sword still jutting from its chest, was the stone-frozen body of the demon Acathla.

Angel stood before it, still wittering on pointlessly. Giles tried to tune into what he was saying, though, thinking it might be of some importance to his own survival.

"Oh, yeah. Acathla," Angel noted. "He's an even harder guy to wake up than you." The vampire proceeded to explain how he'd followed all the directions, spoken the incantation and done the ritual to wake the demon, but had come up dry. "Got a big donut-hole for my trouble," he confessed, his dark eyes flashing with sarcasm. "I figure you know the ritual, you're pretty up on these things. You could probably tell me what I'm doing wrong. But, honestly . . . I sorta hope you don't."

Giles' blood ran cold as Angel stepped around the stone demon and fixed his chilling gaze once again on the watcher. A terrible, quiet glee made his dark eyes sparkle like bits of gold under black water. "Because I really wanna torture you," he said.

Down to the marrow of his bones, Giles felt quite certain he meant it.

*****************

Drusilla:

I'm trying to fix up my hair, but Spike wants to play. He's been in such a mood since Daddy came back. Can't keep him still. All he wants to do is be kissed and be inside me. Even though he's almost completely healed, he still whimpers Angel's name in his sleep. Still wets the sheets with that creamy seed, no matter how many orgasms I give him. His well never runs dry.

They think I don't know. They think I'm a stupid little girl without eyes in my head. They think I don't know they steal away together and shag like rabbits.

It's fine, really. The Page of Pentacles says what they don't know won't hurt me. If they found out I knew they went off alone, they might be angry-and the two of them angry at the same time would be more than I could bear. At least this way, they're both smiling and frollicky. Must say-I love seeing Spike like this. Angel makes him happy, even when they're spiting each other like little boys. All that ass-smacking and name-calling. You'd think they were in a school yard, the way they behave. But I reckon it all just means they're happy. Love makes silly faces.

And now Angel's in there playing with Buffy's watcher. Sounds like he's having a right laugh, too. I wonder if that impotent little man likes Daddy's leather trousers. I know I do. Make me want to sit in his lap, they do, just so I can feel that slick fabric under my backside. And his hard muscles underneath. Love his thighs. And that thick cock between. Spike loves it, too. Loves all of it.

"Come on, poodle," my boy purrs in my ear. "Can't we do it one more time? I'm so . . . wound up today." Nibbling my neck and wrapping his lovely arms around my waist. Hugging and kissing. I love him like this.

"Oh, my sweet," I say. "I want to go play with the watcher. Don't want Angel having all the fun."

Spike sighs and lays back on the bed. I love looking at his body like that-a flat plain of beautiful, shining skin and hard muscles. Those little nipples sitting on top of it all like cherries on a sundae. I give him a kiss on his tummy, right below his navel. He's so soft there. That spot gets lots of creamy attention. He rubs it in like lotion.

"Come on," I say, all playful-like. "Let's go see what Daddy's up to in there. Aren't you curious?"

Reluctantly, my boy gets up and we get him dressed pretty quick. I fix his hair with my fingers and then we go out to the main room. The fire's going, just like we like. Spike grabs a beer and we go into the ballroom where Angel is having his little torture party. No fire in there-it's cold. That makes the it so much better. The cold brings up all the sensations.

Poor watcher. Look at him. His teeth are so tight `cause he's trying not to scream. Holding it in, he is. Fantastic. Makes Daddy loopy with delight when they do that.

"Well, well," Spike says. "Are we enjoying ourselves, then?"

Angel and the watcher are both standing off to the side of the stone thing and I try not to hear all the things Acathla is saying. So much death, so much intent. He fills my head if I don't shut him out.

The watcher looks at Spike and then at me, then back to Angel. Still, he doesn't show the fear that's just singing out of his every pore. He's good, this pasty librarian. So nicely behaved. He's learned well from his days in the company of the slayer.

"Spike, come here," Angel says and my boy moves toward him in his chair. "Rupert doesn't think he wants to tell me what I'm doing wrong with the ritual."

"Is that a fact?" Spike says and takes a drink from his beer.

"He thinks if he just clams up, I'll turn him loose like a useless stray dog." Angel looks at Spike with his eyebrow tilted up, so cheeky. "That's not likely, is it?"

Spike snickers all naughty-like. I love that sound. Makes my knickers wet. "Someone needs a lesson in diplomacy," he says, wheeling around the back of the watcher, flanking him. "I think school should start right about now."

Angel just grins, so happy he is to have Spike with him for this game. They love to play together. Always did.

I take a seat on a chair by the wall so I can spectate more comfortably. As Spike reaches for the watcher's hand behind his back, I just know there's going to be lots of fun had by all. And with the watcher being so very resistant to Angel's wishes, this will probably take a while. I should go get my Tarot deck and have a game.

************************

Angel:

The heat had been growing inside him since he woke that night. He felt like his skin was on fire, but in the best possible way. Since he'd been back with his family, he'd experienced a resurgence of many delicious pleasures-beautiful, physical embodiments of his hottest, wettest dreams. He'd forgotten how much he enjoyed orgies. So much flesh everywhere at once. So much to touch and lick. Pain and penetration. So much to love.

He'd also forgotten that Spike was ticklish on his sides. That had been a particular joy to rediscover.

Having been apart for so long, Angel had forgotten lots of things about Spike. His William . . . The way he slept on his belly. The way he sighed and closed his eyes when he sucked on Drusilla's breasts. The way his eyelashes glowed like the legs of lightening bugs when the firelight shown through them. How young he looked when he laughed.

And most of all, Angel had forgotten how much Spike enjoyed killing.

Over the years, young William had become quite an artist. The first night Angel had been back, Drusilla brought two young girls from the highschool down to the bedroom where they had spent hours together in a frantic frenzy of sexual reacquaintance. The girls were hypnotized and their eyes were blank. One of them had simply lay down across Spike's naked lap and turned her neck up to him as though she'd waited her whole life to do just that.

Angel had almost wet himself watching the young one kill that girl. So fierce, he was, even with his mobility limited. So deliciously vicious. He killed with such enthusiasm that he trembled with the force of his own pleasure. By the time Spike was moaning with the last of the girl's blood in his mouth, Angel couldn't keep himself from masturbating.

And now . . . there they were with Buffy's pathetic watcher in their cozy digs, all tied up and hemmed in. Nowhere to go but dead. Well, he had to go through screaming in agony to get to dead, if Angel had anything to say about it. He watched Spike reach for Giles' damaged, broken fingers and pinch them with slow, deliberate brutality. The watcher shook but never uttered a word. Sweat beaded all over his face and chest, but he kept still. His suffering was obviously extreme. God, it was beautiful. Angel licked his lips.

"Spike, boy, did I tell you Rupert and I are good friends?" he said.

Spike raised his eyebrows in response, still squeezing those broken fingers relentlessly. "Yeah, what the flyin' hell was that about, Angelus? If you needed some couch time, why didn't you just eat a shrink? You told this sorry little man WAY too many naughties about us."

Angel grinned into Rupert Giles' determined eyes. "I know," he said in mock embarrassment. "I was just feeling needy." He pinched the watcher's chin between his fingers and pulled his face forward until they were almost kissing. Again, impressively, the stoic Englishman never flinched. "And you know what I was thinking the whole time I was telling him all those things?" Angel tilted his head and moved in just a little closer. He brushed his nose against the watcher's and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I had the distinct impression that Rupey was kinda getting into my story on a rather . . . carnal level." He scanned the Englishman's eyes coldly. "What do you think about that, Mr. Giles? When I told you about how Spike and I fuck each other, did your little willy get stiff? `Cause, I was sitting across from you and I could have sworn I saw your pants getting tight in the front."

Giles met his challenging gaze with perfectly measured dignity and defiance. Angel really had to fight himself not to giggle, he was having so much fun. Glancing over the watcher's shoulder, he met Spike's eyes and found the blue-eyed boy grinning back at him.

"You know what I think, Spike?" Angel asked.

"About what, Daddy?" Spike purred in playful response.

"I think we should give Rupey a little show, don't you? Just to see if all the dirty things he imagined us doing together came anywhere close to the reality." Again, Angel looked into the watcher's eyes, scanning them for anything at all the Englishman might reveal. Of course there was nothing on offer. Rupert Giles would obviously die before he would crack. It was all too damned yummy to be true.

Turning around, Angel strolled across the floor with slow, determined steps, moving closer and closer to Drusilla. She smiled up at him with flirtatious respect and he cupped her beautiful face in his hand.

"My pretty little girl," he said to her. "Would you be a love and bring Daddy his bag?"

She stood and pressed against his body, lifting her chin up to take a soft kiss from him. Her lips felt like cool satin and Angel shivered with delight as he watched her walk down the hall to carry out his request. Beautiful, she was. And so wonderfully insatiable.

"Angel," Spike said from behind. Turning around, he saw that the young one had been up to his usual mischief and had forced the watcher into a chair near the wall. He and one of the minions were dutifully stringing twine in nice tight wraps around Giles' wrists and ankles. That would hurt a lot once his circulation was cut off and those broken little digits began to throb horribly. Nice touch.

Spike wheeled himself across the floor to where Angel stood and they grinned at each other.

"Exactly what sort of performance are we putting on for the old boy?"

"Oh, you know," Angel said. "A few of the old standards and some new material. Just a bit of a show to let Rupey know how much we appreciate him and all his valiant efforts to blot out the evil beasties of the world." He let his tongue slide over his front teeth slowly. "If you'd like, my dirty little boy, you can be the star."

"Could I, now?" Spike replied, eyes sparkling with delight and mean sarcasm. "Won't that be peachy?"

Angel bent forward and balanced his weight with his hands on the arms of Spike's wheelchair, pushing him back toward the corner of the room, behind the stone block encasing the seething, starving, impatient spirit of Acathla.

The large fireplace along the far wall was cold because Angel hadn't wanted to provide too much comfort for the watcher before. Now, he gave an order to one of the nearby minions to stoke up a good blaze. If Spike was going to be naked, he should be kept warm.

Drusilla returned and slinked across the shiny floor to Angel's side. She presented him with a heavy cloth bag made from a Hungarian tapestry they'd pillaged over a hundred years ago in Budapest. Inside, Angel kept his most favorite toys. He reached into the deep bag and rummaged for a moment, looking for something specific. He would know it by feel and his fingers searched all the smooth and textured surfaces inside the bag until he touched upon the item he wanted. Tugging slightly, he withdrew a lightweight cat o' nine tails that had been made especially for him by a leather craftsman in London in the late 1890's. He held it up and admired it in the low light from the floor lamps. Beautiful and strong, it was. And it had held its shape after all those years.

Angel kissed Drusilla's smooth forehead and thanked her for bringing the bag, then he stepped out to the center of the floor where he had plenty of room around him. Rolling his shoulders slightly to loosen the muscles, he swung the cat in a wide circle twice before bringing the long, soft leather straps down hard on the cold marble. The impact moved through his arm in a delicious vibration and the noise of it made his cock twitch. He did this again and again until he felt reacquainted with the tool.

Glancing back at Rupert Giles, he offered the watcher an obliging smile. "You like that sound, don't you?" he said and then he laughed softly, knowingly. "I do, too. There's really nothing like it. Well . . . the sound of the leather on bare skin is pretty damned excellent, too."

While he'd been warming up, Drusilla had been busy getting Spike out of his shirt and binding his wrists to the arms of two large, heavy tables along the wall near the hearth. The fire was roaring there now, crackling to life in time with Angel's burning, growing desire. He smiled hungrily as his eyes moved over Spike's naked torso-golden and pale, vulnerable pink nipples just waiting to be smacked raw.

Spike smiled back at him, chin down, blue eyes glimmering with impish seduction, begging him to begin, begging him for the lovely, scrumptious pain. He still wore his black jeans, though, and Angel walked over to him shaking his head.

"No, no. I think I'd like you to be naked, boy."

"But, his back is still-" Drusilla began, but she stopped herself when Angel shot her a harsh look.

"He'll still be seated, doll. I'm not going to damage him any further. I just want to see his body." He looked back at the already captive blond in the wheelchair. "You don't mind, do you?"

Spike only grinned.

"Dru?" Angel said, batting his eyes at her. "Please make him naked."

As the lovely girl went to performing her task, Angel strolled over to the where the watcher was tied to another chair. Standing over him, Angel held out the cat and dangled the soft straps just in front of Giles' beaten, bloodied face.

"Breathe in," he said in a gravelly whisper. "Smell it, Rupert. The leather is so fine, so soft." He pressed the thick bundle of the leather strips to Giles' face, forcing the librarian's head back until they were looking at each other. "Smell it," he growled. "Get well acquainted."

From behind the leather, Giles said something but his words were muffled. Angel took the cat away and leaned forward, bringing his ear close to the watcher's mouth.

"What was that? I didn't hear you?"

*****

Taking a ragged, pained breath, Giles spoke to him in a low voice-spoke only for him to hear. "I don't understand why you're doing this. What could possibly be gained by making me watch you beat Spike?"

Angel blinked at him. "What could be gained?" he said, his tone chilling but congenial. "Rupey, you don't think I'm going to leave you out, do you? Why, you're our guest. I intend to make you just as uncomfortable as my boy, here." He stood up and moved around behind the watcher's chair, pulling it back onto its rear legs. "In fact," he said, hooking his boot against the lower wrung of the chair. "I think you need to be a little bit closer to the action."

With a great deal of force, Angel shoved the watcher tied to his chair across the marble floor. The chair's rear legs hitched and bounced on the porous surface as it moved forward the length of Angel's long stride. Once he'd shoved the chair as far as he could without losing his balance, Angel stepped up behind it again and repeated the movement. He knew the jarring must be severely aggravating to Giles' broken ribs and other injuries and the thought of all that extra pain made him grin uncontrollably. He must have looked like a wicked kid lose in the candy story from hell.

Once he finally got Giles and his chair across the room, he stepped around front and dragged it into position-a few feet before Spike's then naked legs. Just enough room for Angel to have a full range of movement with the cat. Pleased with the set up, he walked over to Spike's side and bent down to speak in the blond's ear.

"Shall we make him suck you off?"

"No," Spike said definitively. "He'll bite off something vital."

Angel chuckled. "Yeah, I suppose you're right. He doesn't seem like he's in the mood to be good sport. So, what shall we do with him, then?"

>From behind him, Drusilla said "we could impale him."

Eyes wide with proud pleasure, Angel laughed. "Oh, Dru! You wry little minx. What a great idea." Turning on his heels, he walked out of the main room with the cat swishing in his hand, down the long, echoing hallway to his quarters.

His bed was unmade and looked very inviting as he passed by it to get what he'd come for. Glancing at the rumpled sheets and soft blankets, he thought of the all the sex they'd had since he'd been back-all the wonderful, erotic, bloody sex. He could smell it in the air in his room. All their fluids conjoined, mixing sweetly into a delicious sexual perfume.

Angel adjusted his swelling, tingly cock in his tight leather trousers, then grabbed the huge black rubber dildo from off the bed table. He didn't bother to get any lube. Where was the fun in that?

Back in the main room, the fire burned brightly and Spike shimmered in its glow. His naked body was drawn taut by the leather bonds Drusilla had around his wrists and ankles and his fantastic cock rested heavy and half-erect against his left thigh. Dru stood beside him, rubbing her hands together and humming happily.

"Oh, Daddy . . . that's going to be so wonderfully painful," she chirped.

"Indeed," Angel said. He handed the cat to her for a moment then reached down to pull Giles' head back by his hair. The watcher let out a frightened groan, but that was all. In fact, that was just about the only sound of its kind he'd uttered since Angel brought him to the Mansion. Such a tough guy, this librarian. So goddamned British.

"Look what I've got for you, Rupey," he said, holding up the dildo so his guest could get a good look at it. "I'd do the honors myself, of course, but my exceptional manhood is going to be otherwise engaged." Lifting his gaze, he winked at Spike confidentially. The blond grinned back and licked his lips hungrily.

Drusilla hummed a bit faster and it became a singing little giggle. "Ooohhh, can I put it in? Can I? Please?"

Angel could only laugh, he was so pleased. "Absolutely, my dear." He traded her the dildo for the cat then put a little kiss on her pale, elegant hand. "Be very bad for me, now. Enjoy."

She batted her eyes at him, then slipped passed him to release the ropes around Giles' waist.

"Careful of him, pretty girl," Angel warned. "He's wily."

"I've got him, Daddy," she said as she knelt in front of the librarian. He trembled as she drew his trousers and boxers down and off his legs, rendering him naked in no time at all. Drusilla had always been quite adept at getting men naked. "Open up now, deary," she told him. "Don't be naughty."

Giles gave her no help, keeping his legs staunchly closed.

She shook her head and wagged her finger at him. "Tch, tch, tch. Now, now. You'll only make it worse." Her fingers tickled the watcher's exposed thighs and she scratched the hairs there with her nails. Capturing his gaze, she began to hum again, but that time it was a slow, sweet song-one she often used to hypnotize and immobilize her victims. Drusilla didn't like to cause a fuss when she killed. All that struggling was such a bother. And she hated getting blood on her dresses.

While she was busy with her task, Angel turned his attention to his captive blond boy. Spike tried to lean forward and put a kiss on Angel's belly, but his bonds kept him right out of reach. Feeling a need for that kiss, Angel closed the distance and sighed softly when Spike nuzzled him just below his navel. He let his fingers toy with the short silky curls at the back of Spike's neck, gently stroking the sweet skin there with his nails. He could feel the tiny nubbly scars from the last time he bit the young one in that spot. It was only last night and the wounds had almost completely healed. Spike was ingesting so much of Angel's blood lately, that his healing powers were growing exponentially. This was a good thing, considering their playtime activities almost always left one or both of them bruised and bleeding.

Cool lips found their way under the fabric of Angel's shirt and Spike kissed his naked belly several times. Angel purred and pet his hair, loving the way those thick curls tickled his hand. Spike extended his tongue and licked the line of hair that lead down into Angel's trousers, nipping the skin there with his teeth.

"Angel?" he whispered and Angel looked down into those vivid blue eyes. "Can I have the belt? Just a bit . . . on my legs. It's been hours."

Angel's lips spread in a slow smile and he reached down to unbutton his shirt, letting it fall open and out of the way. "You know how to ask me properly, boy." Standing close enough so Spike could reach his waist with his mouth, Angel waited patiently while the blond used his lips and tongue to undo the hook at the buckle. Once he had the buckle opened, he bit into the leather below the metal square and tugged with his teeth. Angel moved his body back and to the side, allowing the worn leather to slide easily through the beltloops in his pants. At last, Spike held the belt in his mouth, the buckle glinting near the hard curve of his cheekbone in the roaring firelight.

"Good boy," Angel said, caressing those blond curls again. Setting the cat on the floor, he reached for the belt and gently took it from Spike's mouth. He tucked the buckle into his palm, wrapping the rest of the leather belt around it and his hand twice. What was left was a thick strap about a foot long. Grinning seductively, Angel smacked that length of leather against his other hand several times. "Now, ask me nice."

Lowering his chin in playful, but very serious supplication, Spike said "may I have the belt, sire?"

"You may," Angel replied. "Where would you like it, boy?"

"On my legs, sire. Please."

"Where on your legs?" He leaned over and took a deep breath, loving the warm, spicy scent radiating from Spike's naked, bound body. His cock was full and hard now, reaching up his belly urgently.

"My thighs . . ." he pleaded in a raspy breath. "Please, sire. May I have the belt on my thighs?"

Angel couldn't resist kissing that beautiful mouth once before he straighten up to get into position. Kissing Spike was one of the greatest pleasures in his existence. He'd arrived in their family with that skill, actually. William the Bloody had come to them as a smooching artist. Funny, when one considered that as a human, he was a dreadful wreck in the love department. Angel often wondered where he'd got his practice, but he'd never wondered hard enough to ask.

Lingering on the wet, licking kiss, Angel almost forgot what he was doing. His body responded so suddenly to Spike's luscious mouth that he felt himself sighing from the pleasure. Every nerve woke up and started to simmer with delight and he absolutely could not wait to come.

"Ooohhhhh," Spike murmured. "You're wound up tighter than a three-day clock, baby."

Angel chuckled, coming slowly back to his senses. "I know. It's all this torture. It's getting me crazy." He stepped back away from the captive blond and stretched his arms over his head to prepare his muscles. Just as he tugged on the leather belt, readying it for the first hard swing, he heard Rupert Giles yelp from behind him.

Angel turned around, frowning. "I almost forgot about you, watcher," he said.

"Oh, he was a VERY good dolly until just then," Drusilla reported brightly. "Hadn't made a peep." She smiled at Angel like a little girl presenting a decorated mud pie to her father. "Look," she said. "He took the whole thing."

He stood back to take in the entire perfectly unimaginable image of Buffy's prim watcher in this most compromising position. Shaking hard from head to, Rupert Giles sat in the chair with his knees spread, naked from the waist down and perched on that fat black dildo. In fact, the rubber toy had all but disappeared inside him.

Angel's jaw dropped in amazement. "Rupert, buddy!" he exclaimed. "I'm so impressed!"

Giles did not appear to be having any fun at all. Sweat ran in huge drops down his face and from his torso, soaking his shirt and misaligned tie. He glared at Angel with the hardest, coldest stare the vampire could recall ever receiving from a human and the sight of it made him want to dance with glee.

"Now, you see . . ." he said, walking over to the watcher and leaning down. "If you would just tell me what I need to know, I'll have Dru pop that horrible thing right out and you can go home for a cup of tea and a nice long soak in the tub." He met that frozen glare and grinned playfully into it. "What do you say?"

Trembling and gasping, Giles remained silent. He was clearly in unbelievable agony, but he had no plans to utter a word.

Sighing, Angel stood up again, turning back to the beautifully bound Spike. "Well, then. I guess I'll just have to ignore you for a while and play with my little friend here. You can just sit there, Rupert. Sit there and tough it out." He glowered over his shoulder at the suffering watcher. "But you'll like this, won't you?" he said. "And once you get a big boner from watching us, that dildo's gonna feel great pressing on those swollen, itchy places inside. Come to think of it, you might not want Drusilla to take it out, huh?" Shrugging brattily, Angel lifted the belt and readied it for swinging. "I guess we'll have to wait and see what develops."

Spike licked his lips and his chest began to rise and fall with anticipation as he watched Angel's every move with those sparkling blue eyes.

Taking a wide-legged stance, Angel swung the length of leather down hard, connecting with the pale, tender flesh of Spike's left thigh. The blond winced then laughed deep in his throat.

"Oh," he moaned. "Yes, please!"

"Be careful now, Daddy," Drusilla admonished softly. "You've got him all excited. He's not paying attention to his injury."

"I told you I won't damage him, baby-girl," Angel said, bringing the belt down on Spike's right thigh. The leather made perfect contact with the skin and the cracking was completely gorgeous. It made Angel's stomach rumble with hunger, it was so tantalizing. Glancing back at Dru, he winked at her. "You just be a good little princess and keep your eyes on our guest. I'm going to be distracted here and I want to know as soon as we get a reaction out of him-whatever it may be."

She smiled sweetly, then turned her attention back to Giles. "I'll be a very good princess, Daddy," she proclaimed. "I'll watch every little thing."

>From the corner of his eye, Angel saw her hover behind the watcher, placing her lovely hands on his trembling shoulders. She wasn't comforting him, though-most certainly not. She was simply making sure she could feel him shaking-feel any physical change that the stoic prisoner might not reveal in any other way. Drusilla was touching him to be completely thorough.

Grinning at Spike, Angel lifted the belt again and held it over his head, poised to rain down the next blow. "More, boy?"

"Yes, please," the blond gasped, his blue eyes glowing with lust. "More and more."

Angel laughed softly and sighed from the tingle of adrenaline in his body. God, he felt amazing. His arm dropped and his senses were once again flooded with the crisp, delicious sound of the leather meeting Spike's tender thigh skin. The blond's shocked, ecstatic groans were the best possible reward and the desire to hear them again and again drove Angel on until the long muscles in his back began to burn with fatigue. He wasn't even really watching what he was doing, his eyes were blurring with his gathering desire. He moved purely on primal instinct-scent, sensation, eroticism. When he swung and heard the right series of noises in response, he would swing again.

And then, the noises shifted and overlapped and became more like speech than moaning and gasping. Angel realized Spike was trying to tell him to turn around. In a bit of a daze, he looked over his shoulder and found Drusilla smiling happily.

"It's sticking up, Daddy. Can I play with it?"

Angel's eyes passed over the shuddering, sweat-drenched body of Buffy's watcher and landed on his semi-erect cock. Giles' legs were corded with muscles as he tried so desperately to keep himself from being further impaled on that horrible intruding object, but his arousal was impossible to hide. His expression was the best thing, though. Rupert Giles was downright mortified. It was enough to make Angel explode with joy.

Gasping from his exertion, Angel chided "well, well! Look at this, Rupey. I gotta tell you, buddy, this doesn't really surprise me. I've seen the way you look at me. I know you have secret desires for me." He laughed cuttingly. "I guess they're not much of a secret anymore, are they? My goodness. What WILL we tell Buffy?"

Drusilla dissolved into mad giggles and clapped her hands. "Oh, yes! Can I tell? CAN I? That would be brilliant!"

Angel shook his head and sighed dramatically, nudging Giles' considerable erection with the soft belt. He knew the leather was warm from being so well used on Spike and he watched the Englishman fight his own reaction to the touch of it.

"Feels nice, huh?" Angel purred. "I bet you would love for me to make you come, Rupey. Relieve some of this terrible tension . . ."

Giles glared at him even harder and colder than he had before and Angel could only smile in response.

"Well, then how about if you just keep sitting there, doing that watching thing you do, while Spike and I make this all so very much worse for you?" He raised his eyebrows brightly. "Unless, of course, you'd like to have a little chat with me about that guy." He nodded toward the stone effigy of Acathla and Giles set his jaw so tight, Angel could see his teeth clenching under his skin.

Sighing again, Angel said "Yeah, that's pretty much what I thought you'd say. Okay, then." He turned to Drusilla and handed her the belt, carefully and affectionately arranging the buckle in her small, delicate hand as it had been in his own. "Now, sugarplum, here's what I want you to do."

She stood close to him and her indigo eyes regarded him with wordless adoration.

"I want you to spank this naughty man every time he tries to look away from us. I want him to see every little thing we do, okay? Do you understand, my princess?"

"Oh, yes, Daddy. I'll make sure he sees every wet little thing."

"That's it." He stroked one of her silken curls back from her smooth brow then put a kiss there. "Now . . . I'm going to go play with our lovely William."

"Yes, he needs some play," Drusilla said softly, smiling at Spike over Angel's shoulder. "Look how beautiful he is . . . so ready for you."

Angel looked down at Giles once more before he returned to his other playmate. "Rupey? Are you sure you don't want to talk about Acathla? All this humiliation will end in an instant if you'll just tell me what I need to know."

In response, the watcher only glared and trembled-most likely with rage more than pain.

"Fine, then. You're really impressing me here, old boy. I had no idea how much you could take. But now . . ." he turned back to Spike who was practically glowing in his restraints. His pale skin was striped with red welts all up and down his long legs and across his torso. Angel laughed because he didn't even remember striking the boy on his torso. But there were the marks-pretty as you please. And there was that gorgeous, swollen cock just waiting for Angel's obsessive attention.

Drusilla moved back behind the watcher and lightly stroked his sweating cheek with the end of Angel's belt. "Pay attention, now. They're so pretty together."

Angel let his shirt drop away and then his trousers followed. Not having bothered with underwear since his soul left town, he was naked down to his toes in no time. Nothing left but his engorged, dripping cock, his full balls and his enormous, throbbing, almost painful desire to be fucked. Leaning over Spike, he reached for the tight leather bonds on the blond's wrists and began to untie them.

"Are you ready to please me, boy?" he panted.

"Oh, yes . . ." came the growling reply.

Angel left Spike's ankles tied and straddled his hips. Pressing forward until his cock bumped the blond's chin, he grinned down at his still captive playmate. "You know what I like," he purred insistently. "Do it. And don't stop doing it until I tell you to."

"Which will be never," Spike said, then he snickered like the naughty boy he was.

Nuzzling Angel's balls, he opened his lips and licked the soft skin in a long, wet stroke, rolling the testicles inside their sack. He did this until Angel moaned and then he pushed his nose further back, forcing the brunette to spread his legs wide and allow him entry. Angel lifted his left leg and balanced with his foot on the arm of Spike's chair, exposing the vulnerable cleft of his ass. He shivered with excitement and arousal as he felt Spike's tongue begin to track up and down that sensitive crevice. His nipples itched and he sighed, digging his fingers into Spike's curls possessively.

Turning his head to the side, he could see Rupert Giles still sitting there, so uncomfortably impaled. Drusilla was holding the sides of his head to keep his focus forward but it didn't seem to be too difficult a task. The watcher's keen eyes were unwittingly glued to the ministrations of Spike's talented, probing tongue. From where he sat, Angel knew he was getting a really good view of the goings on. This served only to enflame him further as Spike's tongue teased his tenderest parts relentlessly. He could come from this, certainly had before, but he willed himself not to. He wanted to wait.

Angel had some very specific plans for his next orgasm.

Spike's hands stroked his thighs roughly, chewed fingernails scraping the hairs with delicious force. That tongue . . . God, that tongue knew just where to go . . . just how much moisture and pressure to use . . . that tongue was brutal bliss. Angel was dying to feel it inside . . . dying for the moment when the devious blond would slip the tip of that hungry wet thing right up into him and wiggle it, like he always did. He couldn't wait. He panted and moaned and rolled his hips, urging, begging for that tiny penetration.

Spike knew he wasn't meant to give in too quickly. He knew how to play this game. Torturing Angel with pleasure was one of his favorite passtimes. Using his thumbs, he spread Angel's cheeks and further exposed the tender opening, then he circled the tight ring of flesh with his tongue over and over.

Groaning, Angel's head dropped back as all the nerves in his body reacted to this new, deeper sensation. He felt the pleasure roll through him in waves and he almost lost his balance, but Spike held onto him by his hips. His cock kicked and oozed clear fluid from the swollen tip. Angel knew he was dangerously aroused-so much so, he feared he might lose control if he didn't calm himself a bit.

Again, he glanced back at Giles and in that instant their eyes met-connected. Like a spear cleaving through him, he felt the watcher's boiling hatred intermixed with his unmistakable lust. Such an amazing combination. So many layers of feeling.

Angel's body quivered and hummed as Spike's tongue continued its intimate onslaught. He wouldn't stop nor would he go any further until Angel demanded it. This aching torment could go on unending, if Angel wished it so.

But what he wished more than anything was an end to it all-an end to everything, to all the stupidity and senselessness of this stupid world. The emptiness, the sadness, the weakness of everyone and everything. He wished it was all just . . . gone.

And that's what he needed Acathla for. They were two demons of the same mind. No matter how much pleasure was on offer in this world, nothing was worth the anguish that balanced it.

Knowing he would break this weak librarian eventually, Angel refocused his energy. Rupert Giles knew the secrets he needed and Rupert Giles was damned well going to give them up.

No matter what it took or how long.

*****