Angel/Drogyn for maleslashminis: Truth and Reminiscence

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ash_carpenter

13 April 2008 @ 02:49 pm

Angel/Drogyn for

maleslashminis: Truth and Reminiscence

Okay, so (because I didn't have quite enough on my plate) I decided to sign up for this round of the awesome

maleslashminis, which was for minor characters.

My assignment was for

bookishwench, who wanted:
Pairing: Angel/Drogyn
With: how they met, truth issues, a pen
Without: non-con

So, I came up with this little ficlet, probably R-rated, entitled Truth and Reminiscence. Hope you enjoy!!!

Truth and Reminiscence

London, 1964

Angel didn’t really know why he did it, considering his disassociation from human life in general, but he always seemed to be wherever the most fundamental things were happening. He arrived on the boats in New York in 1902 with the other immigrants, he spent the first half of the “roaring 20s” in Chicago, he was fully immersed in the Great Depression, he divided the 50s between Los Angeles in the Hollywood golden age and later Las Vegas, where the Rat Pack were becoming famous…

And now he was in England, where Rock and Roll was taking off in a big way and the hippy movement was in full effect.

The problem was that, despite all this, England was still fucking depressing. It always had been and, he suspected, always would be.

It was just so…gritty. And if he had to put up with one more day of grey, mizzling rain then he was going to start eating people again.

Wondering whether he simply had never gotten over his inbred Irish hatred of “English pigs”, he wandered around Soho, at least finding the dingy alleyways familiar and feeling strangely comfortable.

He was shaking his head as a whore – who he could scent had at least two different venereal diseases – propositioned him, when he spotted someone who looked decidedly uncomfortable and very out of place.

The man was wearing a long overcoat that was close to being a cloak and his blue-grey eyes were darting around furtively, shielded from the garish neon light of the bar signs by his hood.

When he noticed that Angel looking at him with mild curiosity, he turned and walked quickly down an alleyway to his right.

Angel wondered whether he was up to no good. If he was honest, he didn’t really care but his interest had been piqued slightly and he was also spoiling for a fight thanks to his pissy mood. If the guy happened to be involved in some kind of nefarious scheme, it would at least give him a good excuse to beat the shit out of something.

He got his kicks where he could these days.

He slipped quietly into the alleyway and hurried over the cobbled stones, hugging the wall. He couldn’t see the man and he cursed under his breath; he hadn’t been far behind but if the guy had cut and run then he might have lost him. London was like a damned rats’ maze.

Frowning as he approached what looked to be a dead end, he was startled by the man jumping out at him from behind a stack of crates with what could only be described as a battle cry. Angel shouted with surprise and pain as he felt something tear into his shoulder, rending flesh and scraping bone.

With a roar, he shoved the man away with more difficulty than he was expecting, sending him crashing into the crates. He immediately looked down at his left shoulder, only to blink in surprise when he saw what was sticking out of it. As the guy scrambled back to his feet, Angel yanked the offending item free, cursing inventively as blood gushed from the deep wound.

“A pen?! You stabbed me with a pen? Who the fuck do you think you are?!” he demanded with more outrage than the indiscretion probably warranted. He knew that his eyes were golden-rimmed and his fangs were doing their best to put in an appearance.

“I’m Drogyn, the Battlebrand!” yelled the man, flying back at Angel and throwing a hefty punch at his face. He seemed excessively annoyed with having to introduce himself mid-fight.

Okay, this guy definitely wasn’t local.

Angel swore as he crashed back against the rough brickwork of the alley wall. This time he welcomed it when the demon slipped to the fore and he snarled menacingly at Drogyn, wondering what the hell a “Battlebrand” was. It didn’t sound good…

“You’re a vampire,” hissed Drogyn, immediately turning back to the crates with the intention of breaking one to create a makeshift stake.

“Well spotted,” said Angel sarcastically, flying at Drogyn and knocking him to the ground. They both went down, rolling over and over on the filthy floor as they fought for dominance. Angel was surprised by the man’s strength and skill; if he had to battle him for long then he might actually lose. “What the hell are you?!”

“The Battlebrand!” he spat in annoyance, his tone conveying that he suspected that Angel was retarded. “Now stop asking questions of me!”

Rolling his eyes at the obtuse answer, Angel grabbed Drogyn’s long hair and smacked his head against the stone floor. It was fortunate for him that the man’s heavy coat appeared to be hindering his full range of movement.

Drogyn’s world greyed for a moment, but he still managed to bend his knees up underneath Angel’s weight and kick out fiercely, sending the vampire flying backwards. They both leaped to their feet and regarded each other warily across the distance that separated them.

“Why are you following me, vampire?”

“You looked like you were up to no good; I was curious. What are you? Why are you here?”

“Don’t question me!” snapped Drogyn. “I’m a Warrior for the Light, gifted with eternal youth…I’m here to escort a trio of powerful sorceresses between dimensions; they require a protector as they perform their magic. No more questions!”

They circled slowly, still tense, but making no move to attack one another.

“Wow…You really don’t like questions, do you?”

Drogyn glared at him, eyes furious.

Angel tried not to snigger. One corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk as his demon features slowly retreated, he asked, “Why not?”

Although Drogyn looked for a moment as if he might resume his attack, he sighed and replied, “I am gifted with youth, but I carry a curse too…”

“Don’t we all,” muttered Angel. Damned curses! They were so pervasive…Someone really ought to do something about all the curses being cast left, right and centre…It was just irresponsible. Spotting that the man was regarding him curiously as he internally ranted, Angel straightened up and patted his pockets for cigarettes. He didn’t think that Drogyn was going to attack again; he didn’t seem to be a bad guy…even if he was completely insane.

“What curse burdens you, vampire?” he inquired suspiciously, regarding Angel with evident mistrust. He wished that he had a weapon at his disposal, just in case. His sword had been lost as he’d somehow crossed dimensions (an accident on the part of the sorceresses, he suspected), and the broken biro lying on the alley floor had been the closest thing to a weapon that he’d been able to find at short notice.

Angel snorted bitterly, popping a match with his thumbnail and touching it to his cigarette. “The name’s Angel, not ‘vampire’. As for my curse? I have a soul. Ridiculous, huh? I tell you, those gypsies have no sense of humour…”

Angel reflected that Drogyn probably didn’t have much of one either, especially considering the slightly confused frown that he was receiving. “What about you? You work for “the Light”, you said? So, tell me, how did they choose to stick it in and break it off?”

Drogyn’s perplexity deepened at the turn of phrase, but he clucked his tongue in irritation and answered nevertheless. “I am compelled to speak the truth always.”

“Huh…” Well, that explained why the guy wasn’t a fan of being questioned. “That must suck.”

“Pardon…?”

Angel felt another smile slide over his features, and was startled to realise how unfamiliar the gesture was. He took a long draw of his cigarette. “You didn’t know that I was a vampire until I changed. Why did you attack me? Sorry,” he added quickly and without much sincerity, pre-empting the man’s indignation at yet another query.

Drogyn had finally relaxed from his fighting stance. Touching a hand to the back of his head and wincing at the lump he could feel forming, he said, “You were following me. I assumed either you knew who I was, or that you would attempt to steal from me.”

“Steal what? Your pen?” he asked sarcastically, exhaling a long plume of smoke and glaring at his shoulder in annoyance.

“I thought you were a whore,” he offered by way of explanation, as if that shed any light on the situation.

Angel paused in the action of raising the cigarette to his lips. “Why would you think that?” he demanded, rather feeling that he ought to be outraged.

Scowl darkening further as his hatred for his ‘curse’ stepped up a notch, Drogyn mumbled, “Because you’re pretty like those boys who sell themselves on the east side of this district.”

Feeling an uncomfortable mixture of flattered and offended, Angel wondered how come this stranger knew the east side of Soho well enough to be aware that boys peddled their asses on the streets there.

And then, as he inhaled smoke into his lungs and caught the light scent drifting from Drogyn’s direction, he realised. “Oh.”

Drogyn flushed slightly under the scrutiny and looked down at his boots, which Angel noticed seemed to be made of some strange otherworldly leather. He looked up again sharply at the vampire’s snort of amusement. “Why do you laugh?”

“Well, I guess it just tickles my funny bone that an immortal warrior such as yourself with some kind of elite mission is hanging around the seediest part of London and picking up rent boys…“The Light” sure can pick them.”

Drogyn’s blush deepened but he straightened his shoulders, mustering as much dignity as he could. “I have not…purchased any of their services, if that is what you’re implying.”

Angel realised that Drogyn was embarrassed about the fact that he’d been caught thinking about paying for sex in such an unsavoury area, rather than his preference for men. Well, that was refreshing. Most of the men wandering around that particular part of Soho were ashamed for entirely the wrong reasons.

“So, you think I’m pretty, do you Drogyn?” he asked. He liked this whole truth issue that the warrior had going on; it kind of put his soul in perspective.

Drogyn looked him over, taking in the smooth planes of muscle that he could see beneath Angel’s close-fitting shirt and the beauty of his face. He almost shivered at the darkness in those deep eyes, sparked right now with amusement…but he’d always been drawn to danger.

“Yes,” he confirmed. “But you’re also a vampire, a predator.”

“That’s true,” conceded Angel. “But I don’t kill people anymore.”

And…what the hell? Was he trying to hit on this weird guy? Yeah, maybe. He hadn’t had much contact with anyone for a long time, and walking around the seedy London streets had given him a hard-on for the old days.

And the guy – who looked like a kid but was probably at least four times his age – was hot. Handsome, almost regal features and fierce eyes. Plus, when they’d been tussling, Angel had managed to cop a pretty good feel of his body.

He pitched his cigarette to the floor and slowly closed the distance between them, stalking slowly and silently like a cat. “You stabbed me.”

“I…I was defending myself,” reasoned Drogyn, struggling to reconcile the relevance of the statement with the lascivious look stealing over the vampire’s features.

“Yeah, well I still figure that you should make it up to me…”

Drogyn drew in a sharp breath as Angel’s body pressed up against his, crowding him back against the wooden crates and moulding sinuously to him. He could feel the hardening of Angel’s cock against his hip and his own semi-erection grew to fullness. He had to tilt his face up slightly to look directly at Angel with a questioning glance, and when he did so, lips found his own, soft and yet insistent.

Angel felt Drogyn gasp and took the opportunity to slide his tongue into his mouth, twisting it sensually and mapping out a slow, wet trail with a broad sweep. He was almost shocked when the man grabbed tight hold of him and crushed their lips together, sucking enthusiastically on Angel’s tongue.

Drogyn was used to leaping into any battle situation with both feet, although he usually put more consideration than this into other areas of his life. However, since Angel was clearly dangerous, he felt this could legitimately be counted as an occasion requiring his singular courage and decisiveness.

Besides, his eternal youth unfortunately ensured an eternally overactive libido.

He took advantage of Angel’s surprise to switch their positions and thrust him up against the crates, trapping him there and kissing him hungrily as he roamed both hands over the vampire’s sides.

Angel growled softly, too turned on to worry about whether or not Drogyn might be perturbed by the sound. Wrapping strong arms around the warrior’s back and wincing at the burning protest from his damaged shoulder, he held him tightly as he rubbed their groins together, licking out the inside of his mouth – teeth, tongue, palate and gums – with animalistic laps.

As their movements against one another became more frantic, they began to insinuate their hands beneath clothing, which resulted in a brief battle between Angel and Drogyn’s cloak. The vampire gave a triumphant cry, which immediately morphed into a groan, as he emerged victorious and encountered warm, solid flesh and felt answering caresses on his own skin. It had been far too long since he’d felt this, the desperate fumblings of unexpected passion.

Drogyn’s breath was coming in harsh pants against Angel’s face and he moaned when a questing hand found his erection and palmed it roughly. Abruptly, Angel shoved him backwards until they ended up smashing into the wall on the other side of the alley. Drogyn let out a cry that was partway between pain and arousal and then immediately began to scrabble at Angel’s slacks, apparently slightly thwarted by the fastening.

Angel reached down to help, finding that he liked the direction that this was headed and almost desperate to move the show along. He was painfully hard and his eyes rolled back in his skull when the human’s hands grazed over his shaft. He finally found the leather tie to Drogyn’s pants and tugged sharply on it, resuming their kiss and practically thrumming with anticipation at the prospect of sinking into a warm, tight body for the first time in far too long…

They both ducked and shouted in surprise as blinding blue light flooded the alleyway.

Shielding his eyes, Angel snarled, partly in expectation of trouble but mostly in annoyance at being interrupted. Seriously, it was just rude to interfere with people who were planning to have dirty, random alley sex by opening a portal, especially when one of those people really didn’t get to release his tension as often as he liked.

“The sorceresses await me,” said Drogyn, sounding less than thrilled himself. He looked down ruefully at his erection, which was still nudging against the vampire’s. “Can I trust you, Angel?”

Angel blinked in surprise and narrowed his eyes consideringly. “As long as you do right by me, yes.”

Drogyn nodded. “You can trust me.”

Angel tilted his head in a gesture of agreement. It was kinda hard not to trust someone who couldn’t lie. He almost smiled again at the idea, taking far more pleasure than he should in the thought of Drogyn’s unfortunate situation.

“Do you mock me?”

“No,” replied Angel. Well, fuck it…He could lie.

“Good. Let us go,” he said with a small grin, indicating the portal and taking Angel’s hand. “Don’t worry; we will be back before the night is through.”

“Whoa, wait! Where are we going?” demanded the vampire, slightly nervously. He wasn’t really sure that he wanted to become involved in protecting a trio of witches or whatever the hell they were…Even if the promise in Drogyn’s eyes was starting to wear down his resistance.

The warrior smiled and kissed the side of his mouth with a look that was a close relative of a leer, tugging Angel towards the crackling fissure in the alleyway.

“Have you ever heard of the Transuding Furies…?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Los Angeles, 2004

“Angel?”

Startled out of his reminiscences, he turned to see that Spike was regarding him with curiosity that carried mild suspicion.

“That Drogyn fella…How did you say you knew him again?”

“Oh…um…” Angel shifted his eyes sheepishly and quickly picked up a random piece of paper from his desk and focussed his attention on it, wriggling in his seat to adjust his dick into a more comfortable position. “He lent me his pen once.”

Spike eyed him sceptically. “Right.”

THE END.