Work Text:
Forty years and nearly two hundred escape attempts later, Buffy lay in a heap before Lucifer's throne glaring defiantly up at him. As she tried to rise to her knees, he flicked his hand at her and she crashed back down, grunting in pain as her chin smacked on the marble. Taking a deep breath, she tried again, and failed at another flick of his hand.
At least her humiliation was between the two of them. When she'd been dragged in by two of his fallen angels, Lucifer had sent petitioners, courtiers and lackeys away with a barely concealed growl of anger.
That had made her freeze--that he was angry at her, something he'd never been. Frustrated, baffled, darkly amused, yes, but never angry.
A moment later Lucifer had sent her to the floor in a graceless sprawl.
After the third time, Buffy lay still, panting softly, fingers curling into fists as she gathered herself and waited.
"When you began your fruitless attempts at the Gates, do you remember me telling you that some day you would bore me?" His voice was like ice water down her back and she shivered and slowly nodded, then craned her neck to look at him again.
He didn't look bored. Still angry and cold, so cold.
"And that some day you would lose my protection?"
Again she nodded.
"There was another statement I made to you. Do you remember what that was?" Lucifer's voice deepened, grew silky, and even more dangerous.
Buffy swallowed convulsively and slowly nodded, then felt the pressure holding her down alleviate. Carefully she pushed herself to her knees and the pressure returned, his presence holding her there. A burst of anger made her struggle to try to get to her feet.
"I told you I would never kneel to you," she hissed through clenched teeth, for the moment, no longer afraid of him.
"And I told you that some day you would be in my bed, Buffy Summers, and my patience is finally at an end." The cruel timbre of his voice drove that sudden anger from her and made her quake.
"No." She meant it to come out defiant, but her voice cracked as the fear returned. "I don't want..."
"I do not care!" As his voice slammed into her, his presence did as well and she crumpled back into a ball, arms wrapping around her ringing head.
Cruel fingers dug into the soft places beneath her arms, yanking them apart and pulling her to her feet. She could feel bruises forming and cold shuddering through her as his touch burned like ice. As she started to struggle, he simply watched, fire burning in his usually cool eyes, and his fingers tightened until she cried out in pain.
"Will you come willingly?" he asked through tight lips.
"No," she breathed as her heart pounded in her aching chest.
"You would force me to rape you?"
And that question brought the anger back. "If you rape me, it's your doing, Lucifer, not mine."
A small twitch of Lucifer's lips betrayed his interest, possibly even amusement, and she held her breath, hoping his mind would change, but his next words disabused her of that notion.
"Always so defiant. You swing from fear to anger and back again in the blink of an eye. It's one of the ways you have held my interest, and you do interest me still, after all these years, to my own surprise. But, I will see that defiance ended, Buffy. I will no longer tolerate it turned on me, and if I must break your will to do it, I shall."
"I'll fight you."
"And that will make our coupling so intense you'll never want another," he promised and wrapped his wings around her to lift them both from the floor. Not wanting to fall, Buffy stopped struggling, but couldn't stop flinching from the brushing of soft feathers down her back. When the wings parted, his hands released her and she did fall, onto a soft mattress in a familiar room.
She had awakened here once before, and been so frightened that Lucifer had shared the bed with her, but he'd told her he didn't want her.
Liar. Prince of Lies.
As soon as her head hit the pillow, she was up, on her knees, spitting and scrambling for the edge of the mattress, but when she reached it, something forced her back to the center, as if she hit a force field. Eyes widening in shock, Buffy tried again, only to bounce back harder.
"Let me out!"
At Lucifer's dark chuckle, her eyes flew to him standing a few feet from the end of the bed, watching her with his arms crossed over his chest, and she screamed invectives at him until her throat began to ache. Finally, she quieted and slumped on her knees, shoulders drooping and eyes filling with unwanted tears.
Softly, she begged, "Please, Lucifer. I don't want this."
His reply was just as soft, "I have no heart to which you can appeal. My decision is made. Whether you find pleasure this night is up to you."
"Bastard."
Another dark chuckle came from him and the lights in the room dimmed. Soft music filled the silence and the aroma of roses the air.
"It doesn't matter how romantic you make it, it's still rape." Straightening her spine in as much defiance as she could muster, Buffy glared into his golden eyes.
"If believing that is a balm to your soul, so be it." With a wave of his hand, Lucifer was naked, his wings hidden, and Buffy tried not to look anywhere but at his face, but she was only human and he was still an angel. At just a glimpse of sculpted light golden muscles, the darker golden trail of hair down his flat stomach, the well developed thighs, she flushed a deep red. He was perfect and the organ that rested between his legs was just as perfect.
Lucifer smirked and put one knee on the bed, the force field not affecting him.
Buffy skittered back until she pressed against the headboard of carved rosewood with nowhere to go. When his hand reached for her ankle, she kicked out at him, but he avoided her easily and grabbed her foot. With an effortless jerk she was on her back and he was swinging his other leg over her, straddling her hips.
In an instant, she was up, punching out at him, but he blocked every blow as if she was a gnat he was swatting away. She tried to bring one knee up to his groin, but he avoided that easily and brought his knees together pinning hers. As he did that, she glanced a fist across his chin and his head didn't even move, but pain blossomed through her fingers, making her gasp. Reaching out with her other hand, she dug her fingernails into his bicep and he simply looked down at it, then flicked her fingers away with one of his own.
The longer the one-sided battle went on, the more despair began to drive away her anger until, in exhaustion more from the fruitlessness than from the fifteen minutes or so of fighting, Buffy fell back onto the pillows, gasping and shaking. Cradling her sore hand against her chest, she tried to meet his eyes, but then cool air hit her flesh and she realized he'd done away with her clothes as easily as he'd banished his own.
Closing her eyes against sudden tears, she wrapped her arms over her heaving breasts and bit into her lower lip, waiting.
She expected...well, she wasn't sure, to be devoured? For him simply to force her legs apart and mount her?
But not the bare whisper of a touch across her stomach that sent a shiver of not-quite fear through her. The touch was followed by the brush of his lips, and suddenly the chill inside her was driven away by heat spreading across her breasts and from between her thighs.
In the early days, his touch had always made her hot and wet, but over the years she'd learned to block it, or maybe he'd done something, held something back. He wasn't holding back now, and, as his lips slid up her stomach, they left a blaze of desire behind. When his hands took her arms and gently pried them away from her chest, she couldn't stop him, didn't even try, and when his lips fastened around one already erect nipple, she moaned.
"No...no...I don't want..." she begged, trying to deny what he was making her body feel, because in her mind and heart she didn't want him and she was disgusted with herself that he'd barely touched her and yet she was slick and aching.
"Liar," he darkly teased as he mouthed kisses across her breasts to lap at the other nipple until it stung, and she squirmed beneath him. "Open your eyes, Buffy."
"No." Her denial ended in a loud gasp as two fingers pushed fully into her.
"So hot and dripping wet," Lucifer crooned then kissed the pounding pulse in her throat. "Stop thinking and just feel." His thumb rubbed her clitoris and a third finger thrust into her, making her convulse in growing pleasure.
Her hands, that had been twitching restlessly on the bed lifted to his shoulders to push at him, but before she could stop them, they were clutching at him and her legs were parting willingly as he moved his own away and then between hers.
When his mouth found hers, his tongue twining with hers, his breath as sweet as fresh Spring rain, she was helpless and could only kiss him back.
Lucifer's fingers and thumb sent her into a powerful orgasm that she moaned into his mouth, her fingers kneading his strong shoulders as her hips bucked wildly. Her mind was a haze of pleasure. Her body powerless against his touch and her own need.
"That's it, Buffy. Yes, come for me...harder, my love. Again."
At his command, she obeyed, out of control. In shock, she opened her eyes and saw him smiling at her, that dark, dangerous smile that always made her tremble, and her body just quaked and quaked until she fell still, gasping for air. The second time, he'd barely touched her, he'd stopped kissing her...how?
"I'm going to fuck you until you scream," Lucifer promised, and with a shift of his hips and freeing of his hand, he was inside her, pushing deep, filling her until all she could do was arch her back and yell because every nerve ending was on fire and he was hitting them in just the perfect way.
As he drew back and thrust again, Buffy's legs kicked up and around his hips, her arms went around his neck, and she let him lift her as he kneeled back, pulling her down onto him and holding her at the nape of the neck and base of the spine. Head flung back, harsh pants all she could manage for breath, she let Lucifer fuck her on him. Her aching nipples rubbed against his chest, her legs around him trembled, and she could barely hold on, but he just thrust and thrust and thrust.
Another orgasm out of nowhere nearly drove her mad and she did scream, startled, voice hoarse as if she'd been yelling for hours. As she came down he continued to fuck up into her, his mouth biting and sucking at her neck and shoulders, his fingers digging into her flesh, and she realized she was affecting him, too.
Buffy was making Lucifer, the Lord of Hell, lose that perpetual composure of his.
She should be fighting him, trying to get away, at least going cold, but, despite the soreness growing between her legs, she held on because she wanted to see him shatter. All thought of stopping him vanished and she dug her nails into him and bit her little teeth into the flesh between neck and shoulder, and Lucifer cursed, actually cursed, and came.
The uncoordinated pushes of his cock into her as he spilled, sent her body into her fourth orgasm and it was too much.
As everything went dark, the last thing she heard was Lucifer growling her name.
*****
The first bit of awareness brought with it aches throughout her whole body and Buffy whimpered. There was a warmth blanketing her and all was silent except for her breathing. Shifting her body, she groaned and winced. The worst aches were between her legs. How many times had she and Angelus...?
The second awareness hit like a sledgehammer and her eyes flew open and she sat bolt upright in Lucifer's bed. Panic flooding her, she quickly looked around and found herself alone, then, as one hand pulled the sheet and blanket back over her nudity, the other reached out and bounced off the damn force field.
Trying to calm her breathing, Buffy carefully moved so she was sitting up against the pillows, still covered from the neck down. Another look revealed her clothes folded neatly and stacked on an elegant blue satin bench, her boots on the floor beneath them, clean and polished.
All out of her reach.
Groaning in frustration, she banged her head back against the headboard, then winced again at the stinging pain in her neck. One hand went there and she felt the scrapes and hickeys. A memory came to her of biting him back, and she flushed in embarrassment.
Just as he'd promised, he'd made her scream in pleasure, and she wasn't sure who she hated more, Lucifer or herself. Her body had given in to his so quickly and she'd come...god, how many times?
And she'd passed out!
Burying her face in her hands, Buffy moaned softly as the memories came swift and hard...
And left her wanting him again.
He'd been so right and she'd been so weak. She was still weak. God, if he touched her again, would she just spread her legs for him?
She was so afraid she would.
Yes, the sex had been against her will, it still would be, so it was rape, but she'd enjoyed it so much and what did that say about her?
And...what would Angelus...
Oh no...No...
As she finally began to process all the implications of the night before, tears spilled out of her eyes and she slid down the bed, curling into a tight ball, sobbing. He'd never want her again.
A seemingly endless time later a gentle hand touched her shaking shoulder, slid down her back in a soothing caress, and a quiet voice murmured caring words in her ear. Slowly the words began to make sense, but they only made Buffy cry harder, because Lucifer was telling her he would always want her and she would always want him and they were glorious together.
A part of her wanted to lean into his touch, to let him comfort her, but she still had enough stubbornness to pull herself away from him and half crawl, half scoot to the other side of the bed.
"Buffy..." She could almost hear the eye roll in his sigh.
"Go away," she choked out.
"This is my room."
"Fine, I'll leave." Lifting her head, she turned reddened, frustrated eyes on him, and, yes, he was amused.
She hated that amused look and told him so which only made him smirk more.
As she glared at him, other aches and a growing need made themselves known and she squirmed, reddening even more.
Lucifer sighed. "These bodily functions really are unnecessary, but since you seem to hold onto them so stubbornly..." With a wave of his hand, he pointed towards an open door, through which Buffy could see a marble sink. "I've opened a passage to the bathroom. Make use of it while I fetch something to break your fast."
"I want clothes."
"No."
Still glaring at him, she watched him rise and leave the room, then reached out to find the opening off the side of the bed. Finding it, she slid through, then used her hands and feet to make her way through the narrow passage into the bathroom. Nothing inside it was off limits and she used all the facilities, ending with a nearly scalding shower. To her frustrated dismay, the only soaps and shampoos were those belonging to Lucifer. As she dried herself, ignoring the bruises and scrapes on her pale skin as best she could, she smelled the sandlewood and spices that always mingled with his unique scent of ozone and salt.
Wrapped in a fluffy towel, Buffy made her way back to the bed, because it was either sit on the counter in the bathroom or on the bed. For a moment she felt petulant enough to plop down on the floor but sighed and crawled back onto the soft mattress.
It smelled like him and sex. Lots of sex. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, Buffy shoved pillows aside and sat, straight backed against the headboard, arms across her chest and ankles and knees locked.
She would fight him again, even harder this time. He'd grow tired of that and let her go.
Though where she'd go when that happened...
A lump formed in her throat and fresh tears prickled the corners of her eyes.
Angelus...
The door opened and Buffy blinked away the tears, her hands tightening around the towel. A tray settled over her lap and she was suddenly hungry. A steaming cup of coffee was joined by a plate of scrambled eggs and crispy bacon, toast smeared with butter and honey, and a bowl of berries in cream. Ignoring Lucifer sitting next to her, facing her, she picked up the gold fork and began to eat.
All during the meal, as she ate heartily, she felt his amusement and tried to ignore him, but, at some point, he'd bathed as well, and he smelled so clean and with the scents that covered her as well. As she sipped the last of her coffee, her fingers around the delicate china handle trembled, and he caught the cup before it dropped. The tray was set aside and Lucifer's fingers lifted her chin.
"Harder to ignore me than you hoped."
"How long are you going to keep me here?" Her question had too much of a pleading tone to her liking, but she managed to hold his gaze as his fingertips sent a shiver through her.
"As long as I like."
"Angelus'll come looking for me."
"I suppose if I killed him, you would never forgive me," he sighed.
Her heart nearly stopped and she jerked back from his touch, nodding quickly.
"Let him come. He can do nothing to harm me, nothing to cause me any distress. You are mine now." His fingers found her again, this time tightening on her chin as she tried to pull away, and then his mouth was on hers, his lips forcing hers to part.
Buffy struggled, her hands wrapping around his arm, her nails biting into his skin, and it was useless. The kiss deepened and the heat flared in her sore body.
"No, please, not again," she begged when he moved his mouth to her throat and his free hand to the knot of her towel.
"Again and again for as long as I wish, Buffy," Lucifer promised darkly as he pulled her down onto her back and covered her, this time his wings wrapping around her as his arms did, sending almost ecstatic shudders through her. She was already wet and swollen with need when he bared them both and moved between her trembling thighs.
*****
The days passed slowly. Lucifer left open the passageway to the bathroom so, after the first full day in bed and growing bored, worried and even scared, Buffy took to exercising in the bathroom and jogging along the passageway. It filled some of the time and gave her a haven away from the bed full of dark memories. Although she learned a lesson quickly on the second night when she refused to leave the bathroom, and Lucifer simply used a force field to push her out until she was pinned to the bed.
He took her from behind that night, barely touching her first.
She still came with a scream within minutes.
Lucifer brought food to her three times a day and watched her eat. As he'd been watching her eat for years, it didn't bother her, but each meal left her dreading if he'd seduce her afterwards.
By the sixth morning Buffy had lost count of how many times, how many ways, and in how many positions he'd fucked her. That morning, after he took her bent over the sink in the bathroom, forcing her to watch them both in the mirror, she crawled into bed and sank into misery. She could feel his golden eyes on her, but curled away from him and dragged the blankets half way over her head.
"I have a proposal." When she didn't respond, he continued. "I find myself not growing bored, Buffy. This is surprising to me. But I do not like seeing you despondent and broken. That also surprises me." There was a silence for a moment, and then he murmured, almost to himself, "I thought I would enjoy breaking you, but you and my feelings toward you continue to be enigmas." Another silence, and then he huffed in annoyance and ordered, "Buffy, look at me."
She fought the compulsion but finally rolled over and glared as best she could at him. She was just exhausted, tired of fighting him, tired of losing every battle and just heartsick at her situation and...losing Angelus hurt like a wound that wouldn't heal.
"In two nights is the celebration of The Fall. I wish you to be at my side."
Just to get out of this room, which was growing more and more claustrophobic the longer she was trapped in it, Buffy almost agreed.
But, eyes darkening with desire, Lucifer continued, "As my consort."
"No."
Now there was a hint of anger in those golden eyes. "I have never offered that place to any one, neither angel nor demon. Why must you continually defy me?" His fingers wrapped around the top of the blankets, jerking them down and baring her body, then those same fingers dug into her thighs and forced them apart. As he came down on her, nude, wings flapping in frustration, Buffy, frightened, instinctually raised her hands to push him away...
And his fingers gentled, his mouth touched hers in near reverence, his wing tips caressed her until her skin tingled, and Buffy melted.
*****
Hours later Buffy came awake to find Lucifer still with her, watching her. He lay on his side, wings hidden, sheet barely draped over his hip, head propped on one arm, unblinking. Buffy tried to hold his gaze but ended up dropping her eyes and squirming, unsure what was happening, uncomfortable with everything.
Lucifer never remained after she fell asleep. He never held her--or she refused to let him--while she slept or even in the moments leading up to it. As he didn't need to sleep, she wasn't surprised when he usually left her right after he was done with her. It bothered her more that this time he hadn't.
"You enjoy our congress," he murmured. "Your pleasure's exquisite to behold. Why do you deny me?"
"Why do you want me to be your consort? You said it yourself, you've never asked anyone in the zillion years you've been here."
His response wasn't automatic. She could actually see him thinking over what he would say and that surprised her. Lucifer always knew just what to say. "You are unique. A human, a Slayer, an embodied soul in Hell all are unique in themselves, but you're all of those things and more. I'm drawn to you like a moth to a flame, but I should be the flame to draw you in to burn. You're an enigma that has always entranced me, but now that I've had you, the puzzle that you are should be solved."
"I'm a person, not a puzzle, and I don't...I don't..." want to be yours. Except...
Buffy thought of Angelus, how much she loved him, how much she wanted him, but when she lifted her gaze to him all she saw was Lucifer who watched her so intently, all emotions hidden in that solemn expression and those cool eyes that glittered like diamonds.
Angelus never hid any emotions; he wore his heart and his hatred on his sleeve. He was possessive.
There was no way he'd want her anymore. He couldn't possibly. Because, even though she'd fought, even though she had claimed this was rape and that she didn't want Lucifer, she was lying to herself. On some level, she'd always wanted him, and, yes, he'd seduced her, but a part of her had wanted to be seduced.
Forty years with Angelus in Hell hadn't been boring, hadn't even been stagnant, but...
No longer human--never completely human, as she'd known since the early years here in Hell--Buffy's morals had shifted. Maybe if Lucifer had taken her twenty years ago, even two years ago, she wouldn't have been ready to let herself be taken, but a part of her, a large part of her, had been eager to try something new, to be with someone new.
And a part of her, an equally large part, hated herself for that. She was completely torn.
"If I say no can I ever leave here?" she asked, her voice hesitant and small.
"I cannot ascertain the future, Buffy, but I know that it's not my desire to keep you prisoner for the rest of eternity. Whether I could let you go, I don't know. I do know, that if you say yes, you'll want for nothing for as long as you're mine. I'll give you everything you can possibly desire."
The problem with that was that she didn't want material possessions. She wanted to be happy.
Happiness had come so easily with Angelus, but she'd ruined that. He wouldn't want her now and she couldn't be happy at home without him. So, maybe it would be easier to agree to be with Lucifer, to be his. Surely she'd get used to it, she'd find happiness with him. While she didn't delude herself into thinking he would or could ever love her, there was chemistry there, there was a connection. It had always been there. Maybe she should take some time to explore it. Was there really any other choice?
A few years and her heart would stop aching, right?
But, still, she had to make a point. It wouldn't make a difference, but the stubborn Slayer inside her insisted. "On Earth, if I agreed to stay with a guy who forced me to have sex with him, I'd be seen as something to be pitied, to be helped out of a horrible situation."
"You know as well as I that the method of my seduction, forced as it may have been, is customary in Hell. Did you think I never heard the angry passion you shared with your vampire? The horrible things you'd yell at him to goad him into attacking you?"
Buffy felt herself blushing--because, yeah, in the early years and even in later to keep things interesting, they'd both been horrible to each other. It's just, the love made the difference.
"If I could, I would love you," Lucifer said softly, and when her eyes flew to his, she believed him.
Even in Hell there were choices and, being mostly human, she always had a modicum of free will, but her options were limited, boiling down to two.
Agree and possibly be happy as Lucifer's honored consort or never leave this bed and be miserable as his plaything.
"Okay," she whispered. "I'll be your consort. I just...I don't want to keep fighting. I don't want to be stuck here in your bed until you snap, because we both know you don't have the patience of a saint and I'll inevitably piss you off." And then he might really, really hurt her. Buffy never forgot who and what he was and that with a snap of his fingers he could kill her forever.
And that probably wasn't the best thought she could have going into this relationship.
Chuckling, Lucifer drew her down onto his chest, stroking her hair as it drifted over her shoulders, and promised, "We shall be glorious together."
Buffy wasn't sure why her heart wasn't breaking, but it wasn't. Maybe she was just becoming more of a demon every year and losing her humanity. That was something she had given thought to many times before and it had always scared her.
It didn't seem to be as scary anymore.
But, she could still mourn, and squeezing her eyes tightly shut, she forced back bitter tears.
*****
Despite Lucifer's hatred of his Fall, the celebration by demons and the other Fallen was the most extravagant of all the balls and revelries in Hell. Sitting on his throne, impeccably dressed as always, he never showed his distaste. Usually he portrayed supreme boredom.
But, this time, as Buffy stood at the top of the grand staircase and the major domo announced her, as the room fell silent, everyone turning to look at her--because secrets in Hell, especially at Court, were hard to keep and gossip had placed her in Lucifer's bed nearly to the hour--Lucifer was anything but bored. The pride on his face nearly made her flush with pleasure.
The dress she wore was gold to match his eyes, a sheath of satin with a slit up one thigh and a plunging neckline. Not the current fashion but Lucifer had wanted her to make a statement. Around her neck was a wide, beaten gold choker with a large ruby in the center, and her upswept hair made her look tall and regal. She was a golden flame to match his eternal star shine.
All eyes upon her, Buffy descended the stairs, her own eyes locked on his. The crowd parted for her, her gold heels clicking on the marble floor the only sound, until the low murmurs started up as she passed. She ignored them and stopped before the throne.
She didn't curtsey, and there were a few gasps from the crowd.
Rising to his feet and descending to the floor, Lucifer smiled, and even more gasps rang out. He held out his hand and she took it. All the fear and uncertainty were gone. She could do this. A part of her even really wanted to do this.
Lucifer took a gold and ruby ring from his pocket, a delicate thing that glinted against his pale skin and black wool tuxedo. As he spoke, Buffy held out her other hand and he slid the ring onto her fourth finger. "Buffy Summers, Baroness of Zilphat, before all these witnesses, the elite of Hell, I, Lucifer Morningstar, ruler of Hell and First of the Fallen, take you as my consort."
The shock that rang out was audible, the murmurs even louder, but one voice cut through, clear and angry and broken.
"No."
Angelus.
Shocked, Buffy tried to turn to find him, but Lucifer held her tightly, forcing her into his embrace. All she saw was a glimpse of Angelus' horrified face on the far side of the crowd, before he turned and pushed his way out through the terrace doors.
No. He wasn't supposed to be here. Why had he been here?
Lost and confused, all the brief happiness she'd felt just a moment before gone, Buffy looked up at Lucifer and saw the dark pleasure on his face, before he snapped his fingers at the small orchestra, and drew her into a waltz.
"Did you know he was here?" she choked out, her feet moving with the music on instinct, but the fingers entwined with his trembling. She wanted to crumble to the floor or flee, but she'd trapped herself. The ring on her finger felt so heavy.
All Lucifer did was give her an enigmatic smile and lean down to murmur, "You chose this, Buffy. You chose me."
That she had made her heart shatter, but this was Hell and Lucifer's Court and she plastered a calm look on her face and shuttered her loss and sorrow behind cool eyes, and danced with her lover.
End