A story in the Fanged Four verse

Fussy Eater


Angelus stood over the newest addition to the family, arms crossed.  

"You're not leaving this room until you eat it," he said, sternly.

William- only six months old and as brazen a pup as was ever misbegotten!- glared up at his Sire, his lower lip pouting, and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I won't," the insufferable boy snapped back, sulkily.

Angelus raised a heavy hand and cuffed William smartly.

"Ow! I don't _like_ Armenians."

"That  love-tap'll seem like patty-cakes if you don't stop that pouting and eat your dinner. When I was a fledgling, I ate whatever was put before me and was glad of it. Now, _eat_."

William glared at the rather skinny young man trussed up on the chair beside him. The youth, dressed in typical peasant garb of cap, neckerchief and vest, his white shirt torn open at the throat, swallowed hard and shifted nervously, eyes darting from Angelus to his boy.  He might not understand their language but it was likely he knew what was coming, as he'd seen the fate of his father and sisters.

William glowered at the hapless youth, then at Angelus, then deliberately pushed himself back from the table. 

"William!" Angelus thundered, grabbing the boy by the ear and firmly sitting him back down, hard, on the rough-hewn wooden chair. "Hell's bells, if you aren't the most brazen brat to walk the earth- did I not just say you'll sit there until you'll eat your dinner!"

"I'll go out and get something else!" William shouted back, giving a little yelp when his ear was twisted. 

"By all that's unholy, boy, there's nothing _but_ Armenians in this godforsaken backwater, you'll not _find_ anything else! And you'll learn to eat what's put before you, so help me, or-"

The trembling young man who was intended to be 'dinner' was now shaking, muttering feverent prayers in his native tongue.

"Shut that!" Angelus bellowed, clouting the youth and knocking off his cap.

"Now he's gone and pissed himself," William said, wrinkling his nose. "I'm definitely not eating him now."

Angelus had just grabbed the breadboard and advanced on William menacingly, when Darla appeared in the doorway. 

"Really, Angelus, we simply must find a proper hotel as soon as possible. I think the beds are stuffed with straw and- William, why haven't you eaten your dinner yet? Angelus, he's not having trouble getting his fangs to come down is he?"

William and Angelus both looked up, startled, and a little sheepish, at the sound of Darla's voice. William said indignantly, "I am not! I can make my fangs drop just fine!"

He went into demon face then, to prove it, making the poor young man roll his eyes frantically and buck against the chair, struggling against his bonds with renewed vigor.

Angelus slapped the breadboard against his palm and said, "William refuses to eat his perfectly good dinner. Says he doesn't like 'funny spices'. Boy, you will eat what is put before you, or you'll eat it off the mantlepiece because you'll not be sitting-"

"Angelus, darling," Darla murmured, and quickly crossed the stone floor of the rustic kitchen. She gently removed the bread board from his huge hands, and cupped her own little white hand to his ear. He reluctantly bent his head to listen and his face softened slightly. He frowned as she murmured, then smirked.

"Right you are as always, my dear," Angelus said, kissing her forehead.

Then he strode to the chair and grasped the hapless boy by a fistful of hair, wrenching his head to one side and biting through his throat, his fangs slicing through flesh and sinew like a hot knife through butter.

The youth gave one startled cry and kicked his feet, then was stilled almost instantly. Angelus drank deeply, swallowing repeatedly until he'd drained the boy, then straightening up and slapping his muscular belly with evident relish.

William looked wary, startled and slightly unsure, as if part of him wanted to protest his Sire taking away his kill, even though he'd rejected it himself moments before.  Angelus smirked, wiping his mouth, and crooked at finger at his boy.

"Come here. Now, now, laddie, there's nothing to be afraid of... William, do as I say."

Darla came up behind the boy and urged him forward, patting the seat of his trousers and chuckling fondly when William jumped.

"Go ahead then, darling, it's all right. Aren't you hungry?"

"Yes but he just-"

Angelus untied the slumped body of the youth and disinterestedly let it fall to the floor, giving it a push with his boot.

"You're right, darling, we'll have to find a decent place tomorrow. Come now, William, you've stalled enough tonight and you'll still be needing a bath before bedtime."

Angelus unbuttoned his shirt and patted his knee.  William's eyes widened and he shot a quick, sheepish look at Darla, who chuckled and urged him toward his Sire.

"Daddy sometimes forgets just how young you really are," she said, patting the boy.

"But I can get my own kills and I don't need-"

"Shush now. Since you can't feed on your own like a big boy, Daddy's got to feed you," Angelus said, smirking and pulling the blushing boy onto his knee.

William squirmed and looked anxiously to Darla as if hoping for a reprieve, but Angelus cupped the back of the boy's head and guided him toward his chest.

"Come now, lad. Enough of your fussing tonight."

Angelus cradled the boy in his lap, strong arms supporting William's slender form. Darla chuckled low in her throat as she watched her boys. William whinged and squirmed at first but soon enough he settled down and soon the sounds of his eager suckling filled the kitchen.

"There, that's better," Darla said, smiling. She stood behind Angelus, stroking her fingers through his thick, glossy hair, and purring. "And after the baby's had his dinner, we'll go up to bed and I'll give him dessert."

Angelus chuckled deep in his throat, holding the boy firmly in his arms, his big hand rhythmically patting William's firm little bum through his trousers.

The End

The Fanged Four

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