Title: HIS LITTLE PUPPET
Author: charmingsyrai
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Series: Envenom
Timeline: post Chosen
Characters: original characters
Prompt: #035 oath
Rating: Rish
Warnings: bad, bad and kinky language, smuttish stuff and a cherry on top; some violence.
Word count: about 3145
Status: -fin as in finished
Table of prompts here
Summary: It was the first time it had happened. Ever. Most likely it was the last time, too, and it pained her… because she wanted more.

Author's Notes: In our current timeline, I'd say this fic takes place after F's the noose fixation.

Even though F seems to dislike Poppy and her perky name, I like her and wanted to write a bit more about her… Again, not much happening with the plot, meh...

I'm thinking, in Neopolis, 'solange pissant' and 'cermi' are very common curse words :nods: It's kinda like BSG's Frak or Farscape's Frell, mwuahaha... Trust me, you really don't want to know from where we got them with F. It's dirty inside our pretty little heads.

Written Installments:
broken broken / some day the dream will end torture / prologue writer's choice / you're made of my sin coffin/buried / forever in a word masterpiece / because i say so blood / the gypsy king feral / time to be what you need me to be weapon / the noose fixation / his little puppet oath

HIS LITTLE PUPPET

Poppy wasn't sure how long it had been; how long had she stood there in the shower like a pathetic little teenage girl, leaning against the wall with her hands and letting the water run… hitting her, taking over, filling her. Every other moment she was forced to spit a mouthful of water out or swallow it down, but she couldn't move and turn her face away. No, not yet. The cool water drumming against her face, again and again, it was the one thing that could silence her own screaming thoughts and keep them at bay. She needed this silence so badly right now; it was the only thing that made the burning tears go away.

Gods, she hated being this weak, this pathetic.

She knew she was being childish and only postponing the inevitable, but just the thought of returning to her own room... it broke her. In the end, she would have to go back, but she didn't want to deal with the reality, not yet… going back meant she would smell him, smell what they had done. And he, he would no longer be there in the safety of her bed… in time, his smell would fade and the night before would be forgotten... what really got to her, though, was that she knew that she'd end up sleeping in those sheets until that happened. She would cherish the memory until it would fade into oblivion… hold on a little bit longer... drain its energy.

It was the first time it had happened. Ever. Most likely it was the last time, too, and it pained her… because she wanted more.

Yes, Poppy had had her fair share of fantasies… who hadn't? She had dreamt how he'd suddenly realize his true feelings and pull her hungrily into his arms, kiss her lips and peel off her clothes... one by one, slowly. Kiss every inch of her body, caress her all over, touch her where she wanted to be touched... satisfy her... She knew he would never love her the way she craved him to, the way she loved him… but she had thought she could deal with it.

One night. She had thought it'd be enough. Just one night, you know, to get him out her system. To get over it.

But she had been wrong. It wasn't enough. The system only craved for more.

That was why they always said you should never test drugs, huh? Well, it was a little too late for that particular advice, wasn't it?

She had done everything to protect herself from this! She had tried to bury her feelings for so long, tried to bury them so deep into her own mind that he'd never smell them - that she'd never smell them, either. Common sense of self-preservation was supposed to keep her safe! It was supposed to be such a simple thing.

Well, guess what, she snorted silently, it isn't.

He didn't love. Why? Because he didn't share this common weakness, this flaw, like most of the vampires did and she had no delusions about herself - there was absolutely nothing and no one that could change him. He was a killer who knew better than well to keep his emotions in check - if he didn't, they'd end up killing him in blink of an eye. Or if not him, then someone he loved.

She couldn't have lived with that... especially if she had been the one to die. She snorted, again.

So, to protect both herself and him, she had suffocated those feelings she had; it was the only way to keep him from using her and now, it was very possible she had blown her cover. She wasn't sure, she didn't know.

Why had she let him do that? What the fuck had possessed her? She had known where that look in his eyes would lead them and yet, she had let him stay. She had let him stay!

You fucking solange pissant. Yes you, you stupid fuck.

Yeah, she should've just kicked him out of her room and tell him to go whine at someone else about his problems - she was sleeping.

But she hadn't done that, oh no... she had thought about it, sure, but when she had tried to say the words and ask him to leave, nothing had come out. There he was, the cold assassin who didn't share his feelings with anyone, at her doorstep pissed off like a fucking bee after being stepped on.

Which, actually, was pretty much how the vampire had felt.

And she, being the stupid pathetic idiot that she was, she had seen her chance. She had been stupid enough to think that it meant something - the fact he would come to her in the middle of the night, falling apart because he was fucking sick and tired of dealing with everything alone... she had thought it meant something. Something more.

What had she expected, huh? Fucking bonding?

He had sat there, on her flower-covered sofa, looking so out of place in her feminine room... but hell, he had only been there for 5 minutes or so when his presence had already dominated the room and taken over. Suddenly it didn't seem like her room anymore... and that's when she had noticed the change.

His eyes. She had noticed his eyes; the fact they weren't looking into hers anymore like usually. Their aim was lower, the color deeper. It was only then that she realized she was wearing practically nothing - a satin robe covering her top and boxers in which she usually slept. At first she had simply covered the exposed shoulder trying to ask him a question -she couldn't remember what it was anymore- but he hadn't answered.

He had finally seen what she had wanted him to see for so long. Not his employee, not a young girl. Something else. At that point, gods, it had felt like he had seen her, the real Penelope Lane. And in that moment, she had been able to convince herself that the look in his eyes would not have been so misty if he had seen something he did not like.

Fuck! She had wanted it with every fiber of her being, every cell had been screaming his name so loud it hummed in her ears. When he had leaned forward and grabbed her arms, locked her into his embrace, it had felt like he would never leave her. He'd always be there.

She had woken up, hours later, and seen him sleeping in her bed. Even in sleep, he gave out no emotions - you couldn't tell whether he was seeing a happy dream or a nightmare, his face always stayed the same. And just like that, the illusion had lasted a little bit longer.

In the morning she woke up with an empty bed beside her, accompanied by just an imprint of a body that had once been there and his smell. He had taken the illusion with him and left her nothing, nothing but the smell.

And the sore ache between her legs... and a few bruises here and there... and, feeling her lips with her pink tongue, obviously more cuts and wounds...

But they'd all be gone soon and then she'd be left with truly nothing.

Perhaps if she took a picture of herself, all bruised? Then she could at least have something. She could, at any time she wanted, go and ransack her drawer and take a look of the picture hidden underneath her clothes. She could look at it and see it wasn't a dream, it wasn't an illusion.

Yes, the picture would say, yes, that one time, you truly were fucked by Rhys Aidan.

Yes, it would say, mocking, you truly were taken on your flower-covered sofa, screaming his name, asking him to fuck you harder, deeper, faster.

Yes, it would say, laughing at her face, feeding on her misery. Yes, you truly made a fucking fool out of yourself this time, didn't you?

And she? She would probably just smile. Fucking smile!

"Damn you, Rhys," she whispered into the water suffocating an angry snob, "damn you, fucker. Fucking cermi."

But in her head, it wasn't Rhys that Poppy blamed with bitter passion. She blamed herself. She had seen it coming, she had known it would happen if she'd let her guard down. These assassins, they were all the same. They saw a piece of meat and went after it. Seriously, sometimes she was sure they fucked everything that moved.

If she had known this - and she had, then why the hell had she let it happen?

0000

It had been about 27 days since Penelope Lane's 16'th birthday, the day she had waited for months and months.

... 25 days since she had been turned into a blood-sucking vampire, the day that had turned out to be her future nightmare, what kept her awake.

25 days since she had been his random pick for the day's meal, grabbed and dragged into an alley where no one bothered to follow, not even upon hearing her screams. No one, absolutely no one, came to her rescue. They all ignored her pleads and the fact there was a young girl there, begging for help, begging for mercy... being beaten up by a vampire ten times bigger than she was.

They had all seen it, how he had locked his fist around her arm and forced her to follow him, but not a single person had lifted their finger to help her. Vampires were nothing unusual in their little town, everyone there knew these things weren't imaginary creations. They knew they were real, but they didn't dare to fight them. It was why the vampires in the town didn't even bother hiding... it was the only reason why his eyes were yellow, why his face looked like a monster's.

Penelope knew this, she knew it all and nevertheless, she had gone out after the sunset to meet someone... a boy. All this for a boy! How could she have been so stupid?

She fought for her life, not wanting to give up. Her hits and kicks, they seemed to have no effect on him. She tried to squirm away from his strong hold, but couldn't. But it didn't stop her from trying, God no.

Only after she had fallen on the ground with a broken arm, one eye swollen shut and her whole body bleeding rapidly, then he had kneeled down next to her... only then, after making those 15 minutes the worst minutes of her life, did he choose to drink from her and relieve her of the pain.

She hadn't cried, not once.

He had laughed before kissing her... before forcing her to swallow the blood in his mouth.

Most of it was hers, but not all.

That, she supposed, was what he had wanted to. His revenge because the stupid little human girl had dared to fight. Or maybe he had considered it to be her prize, her present for not crying. For fighting.

Afterwards... she could still remember how she had only craved for more and so, those 25 days she had spent her hours gathering her strength... killing the ones that had dared to ignore her screams. Everyone of them - everyone above 16. Making them pay for what he had done to her. For what they had let him do to her. There were only five of them, two older men, two women and one teenaged boy. She didn't kill the boy, but only fed instead.

When the task was done, she had felt better. It was bullshit when they said revenge never gave satisfaction. To this vampire, it did, it really did.

It was cold, she recognized this, but the snow had long ago eaten the feeling from her toes. She had no place to go. She had tried to go back to home... they hadn't let her in. They had screamed at her, cursed her... feared her. They had known what she had become. Everyone knew.

She could still hear her father's words in her ears. If she'd go back, he'd kill her. That's what he had said with a pale face, eyes full of sorrow.

She had fought for her life, for this life. She wasn't so keen on letting it go, not even after what she had become, and so she left. She had left and had not gone back.

And now, here she was. The sun had already set and there really weren't that many people out there in the streets... most of the town-people locked themselves into their cozy little houses the minute the sunset, but not every one could. Not every one wanted to.

Penelope was too deep in her own thoughts to hear her follower. She didn't know she'd been followed for awhile now, because she really didn't know how to control her newborn senses. Everything was so new, too clear, too bright, too something.

Then it was too late. A hand appeared out of nowhere, chubby fingers wrapped painfully around her neck from behind and she was slammed against the nearest building with such force she could feel her nose breaking. The smell of blood was intoxicating, even when it was hers.

The figure behind her pressed itself against her back and all she could feel was disgust. His smelly breath against her neck, his fingers finding their way inside her shirt, touching her breasts, all she wanted to do was kick his fat sorry ass to the sun.

She tried to push him off with her back, but whoever it was, he was stronger than she was. A vampire, it had to be a vampire - only someone like her could have been so much stronger than what she had become.

He squeezed her nipple, rough and she cursed aloud. She didn't panic, not before she could feel the bulge against her ass... not before she felt him push his hand between them to unzip his trousers and then move to open hers. Then she panicked.

She didn't scream; what good would that have done, huh? The humans didn't even bother saving one of their own, so they honestly weren't likely to save a vampire either. She was trapped.

Then, out of the blue, she was free.

The weight against her back disappeared with a loud whoosh and she spun around, ready to flee the scene. But what she saw stopped her planned escape.

It was a man, a vampire to be exact. She knew he was a vampire even though his face looked like a normal human's.

The older vampire, chubby, filthy thing was now lying on his back on the snow, looking dumbfounded. The younger one, with his dark blue eyes flickering, was smiling a vicious smile but it's message wasn't targeted at her, it was for him.

"That's not how one should treat a lady," the younger vampire spoke startling Penelope, who had only been able to stare at him. He had such beautiful, beautiful dirty blond locks that for a minute there, she had only wanted to step forward and sink her fingers into them. They were filled with snowflakes and she realized it had started to snow.

The vampire on the ground, he still didn't speak.

Penelope didn't understand why. It was obvious he was bigger and older... no, that's where she realized she was wrong. She couldn't tell which one was older, vampires didn't age. Still, she assumed the bigger one was probably stronger due to his natural size...

But nothing. He just sat there on the ground, looking at him.

"Yes, I see you know who I am, whereas I have no idea who you are and I feel this might be a bit of a problem," the vampire said folding his arms. He was wearing long white leather jacket and jeans with winter boots. All in all, to her, the whole outfit seemed a bit weird combination.

"This is part of the Triad's area and I'm sure you know it. It may not be known to humans but I'm almost sure every vampire within this radar does know this. And acknowledge it."

She did not understand a word. They made no sense.

"Now, I don't think the Triad appreciates the fact you're, not only, on their culling area but also harassing a girl, who to me, looks to be another vampire," he shook his head sighing as if he was chiding a little child, before cocking it slightly, "where are you manners, mister?"

Still. Nothing.

"You can either get up and get the fuck away or you can get up and get killed. It's really your choice, either way is fine. But whatever you do, don't show your face in our area ever again. Ok?" Gods, his voice sounded so casual, so normal... and yet, it was hypnotizing... so deep, but so soft... so... she didn't know. She had no words for it. He was threading to kill someone, but yet he managed to sound nothing but formal... and a bit bored, perhaps.

Now, the vampire on the ground, he didn't have to be told twice. He got up, nodded and unlike she expected, turned around and ran. Ran like a wind... or at least like a very fast cow, but still. She couldn't believe it - he had actually ran?

Only when he disappeared around the corner, he turned to look at her.

"You should be more careful," he said after examining her features from head to toe almost as if to make sure she had stayed relatively unharmed, "He followed you quite a bit there."

She had meant to thank him for the rescue, but hearing him say the words, turned the tide. "How you know?" She asked suspiciously.

The stranger shrugged. "Well. I followed him quite a bit there, too."

It was none of her business, she knew that, but she tried her luck anyway. "Why?"

"It's not important," he answered stuffing his hands into his pockets, "especially now that the problem has been dealt with."

She didn't inquire more, it wasn't her place.

"Say," he started with a smile on his face before she could say anything else, "you seem to have nowhere to go... or are you simply, I don't know - for fun maybe, aimlessly roaming around the streets?"

Maybe that was the day she swore she'd never leave his side.

Maybe that was the day she had, for the first and last time in her whole life, fallen in love with something else but silence.

Maybe, the picture would say, pitying her, that was the day you knew you'd want to get fucked by no one but him... on your pastel colored sofa.

And she had smiled. Just fucking smiled.

-fin.