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 Taming the Beast
Chapter 7 Author Dark Rhiannon DarkRhiannon@aol.com Buffy woke slowly, for once, her entire body enervated and relaxed. As consciousness blinked gradually into focus, she realized she was not alone in the darkened bedroom. Angel lay behind her, his tall, lean body spooning her smaller one and one arm cuddled softly around her tiny waist with his hand splayed possessively across her hip bone. She tensed for a moment in his slumberous grip before relaxing into the comfort she drew instinctively from her soul mate's embrace. Then she noticed Spike. The younger vampire was nestled close against her chest, his head pillowed against her breasts. Though her voluminous flannel shirt, tank, and sweatpants separated them, he'd squirmed one cool hand up under the shirts to rest on her breast, the rough tips of his fingers chafing her nipple. Sandwiched between the two, Buffy felt a moment of fear. Both were male and powerful. Their closeness implied weakness—that she'd allowed two such vicious predators so near while she slept was surely a failing on her part, wasn't it? The Slayer within her roused angrily, somehow stronger than she'd ever been before. Her instinctual reaction to the vampires was violence, death, destruction. But held close in Angel's arms with Spike nestled against her more like a child than a lover, Buffy looked within herself and was unable to find any true fear. Her Slayer instincts, which recognized and categorized all threats, but especially vampires, were wavering with the usual internal alarms that screamed danger. She felt an enhanced awareness of the vampires' presence—a tingling frisson down her spine instead of the warning cramps that she'd learned through trial by fire to ignore long enough to attack and defeat her foes, even when they nearly doubled her over with pain. Those powerful Slayer sensations had somehow shifted decidedly lower and Buffy realized with shock and shame that she was wet—soaked—with arousal. The vampires' proximity was flaring all of her senses. Their touch enflamed her, their smell intoxicated her. It was not her normal reaction. Her awareness of Angel had always been different than her sensations around normal vampires—their soul bond providing a steady hum in the back of her mind, a tantalizing awareness at the edges of her mind, indescribable, but nonetheless powerful. But she felt something different now in both vampires…something…safe. Her eyes were drawn to the rawly healed mark on Spike's pale neck. Her Mark—it still showed the imprints left by her teeth…by her fangs. Buffy reached up to feel her canines, worried that the spell Giles had performed might have left behind the physical changes that she'd been unaware of as the Beast. *No,* she sighed in relief. Her teeth were normal, *ouch! * well, ok, a little sharper than normal, but not fangs, definitely not fangs! *That's of the good,* she thought. But she'd Marked Spike. Her gaze rested for a moment on his neck, then she wriggled around in Angel's grasp to face her soul mate. Spike barely even stirred, just nestled closer against her back. She'd Marked Angel as well, and the memory sent another rush of desire through her, despite her shame over what she'd done to him. She'd fucked him—ridden him without a thought for his soul, and then she'd Marked his beautiful skin—scarring him. His naked chest was hard against her softness as she examined his neck. His Mark was more healed than Spike's. Buffy didn't know if that was due to his age or to the faster healing he now seemed to have due to repeatedly drinking her blood. At least she'd given him that, Buffy thought sadly. And yet, lying so close in his arms, she could not truly regret what she'd done, regardless of whether she should. Sleeping, Angel ceased to breathe and he lay wrapped around her like a slightly-warmer-than-marble statue of a god. His physical beauty had awed her from the very first time she'd seen him without a shirt—seen that muscled torso and those powerful arms for herself. She'd been unable to breathe at that first sight of him, capable of doing nothing but staring as the muscles moved beneath his tattoo. Her hands had trembled as she'd touched him when she'd bandaged his wounds all those many years ago. Just looking at him could make her want to weep. The odd thing was, Angel seemed totally unaware of how gorgeous he was. Angelus…now Angelus knew his own beauty precisely… and he used that beauty as just one of the many weapons in his arsenal. She'd felt like a grubby schoolgirl next to Angelus— hopelessly gauche and inexperienced. Angel never made her feel that way—his eyes brimming with love and acceptance of her many faults. He'd forgiven her for every slight, every hurt she'd ever done him. She hoped he could forgive her for the new one. As she gazed on the beautiful planes of her soul mate's sleeping face, Buffy's eyes dropped lower again to her Mark. Her mouth watered, suddenly, and she felt the urge to press her mouth to the bruised and reddened skin of Angel's strong neck—to taste him again. Without thinking, Buffy leaned forward, the difference in their heights no obstacle as they lay together. She pressed a gentle kiss to the raised skin of the scar and her tongue flicked out to caress it. He tasted so good. She inhaled that clean male scent that she associated only with him—soap and sandalwood and the musk that was pure Angel. As she kissed his neck, her mouth open and tongue tasting that cool flesh, the slight tinge of blood left on the scar, she felt him stir abruptly. A rumbling, growly purr throbbed low in his chest and she felt him harden against her thighs, his hand stroking the skin now uncovered by the flannel shirt, which had ridden up when she turned to face him. A tenor growl echoed Angel's behind her and she felt Spike rubbing his face against her back. Then she remembered what else she'd done with them, besides the Marks. A painful flush suffused her face as she pushed frantically away from both sleepy males, jostling them as she practically leapt from their bed. Buffy yanked down her shirt, pulling at it to cover her sweatpants and cowering visibly under their combined stare. "I'm sorry," she whispered, unable to meet either gaze as she backed quickly to the door. "I didn't mean, I bit you…both, and…I'm, I'm really sorry." She turned and raced from the room before either sleep befuddled male thought to rise and stop her. "What the bloody hell was that all about?" Spike asked grumpily. He'd been all warm and nestley with his mate curled against him and now here he was, half rampant and stuck in bed with his cold wanker of a sire. Not that being in bed with Angel was bad, precisely, but still, not nearly so good as being in bed with Buffy and Angel. "She's embarrassed," Angel guessed. "Did you see her blush? My guess is she remembers everything we did when she was, well, more primal." "Think we can do it again?" Spike asked, stretching lasciviously and watching as Angel reacted to his proximity. He'd always loved being able to tease the older vampire so easily. "Best to leave her be for now…she looks to want her space," his sire muttered distractedly with a hint of a purring lilt. Angel's purr turned to a low growl as he watched the muscles slide tantalizingly under Spike's pale skin. He looked good enough to eat and Angel was disinclined to hold himself back. He leaned forward and captured his childe's mouth in a long, hard kiss. Spike moaned as Angel plundered his mouth with the skill of a century of wanton insight into exactly how to arouse his favorite childe. Angel bit gently at Spike's lips, tantalizing and teasing, before grabbing his head and stroking those high cheekbones as he kissed him more deeply. They morphed to game face in precisely the same second, totally in tune with each other. Spike drew trembling hands down the hard muscle of Angel's muscled body, stroking and digging in his blunt nails until the older vampire hissed into his mouth in response. When Spike's talented hands reached Angel's aching cock, the sire groaned and thrust his hips up, arching into his childe's skillful caress. He returned the favor, stroking Spike gently at first, and then with longer, rougher strokes as the blond growled in lust. The two kissed more fiercely, drawing blood from each other's mouths and sucking at it with abandon as they stroked each other almost punishingly. It was a contest, a race to see who would succumb first to the other. But they were too well matched and too intimate with each other for either to have the upper hand for long. When Angel pulled away from the kiss to groan in need, Spike struck, sinking fangs deep into his sire's throat. Angel retaliated in kind as he started coming from the erotic pain of his childe's mouth and Spike joined him, pumping dead seed into his sire's hand as his own was anointed similarly. Spike lapped the seed from his hand, the blood on his mouth mixing with it to form an ambrosial feast for the vampire. Angel did the same and then pressed a fierce and possessive kiss to the younger vampire's mouth. They gentled a bit and finally pulled away from each other to share a rueful glance as they rose from the bed. "That's sure to convince the chit that we're sensitive to her needs, Sire. You are such a wanker." "Oh, yeah, Spike? What would I need to do that for when I have you? Besides, she's showering, can't you hear her?" "Showers more than any three people would need to," Spike muttered. "P'raps we can join her?" he added hopefully. "I really don't think she's ready for that again, Spike," Angel said, reluctantly. "She seems really off put by everything that happened while she was under the influence of the spell. I think we should get her home to Sunnydale and…" He caught his childe just as Spike rocked forward in pain, clutching his head and swearing. "Fucking, ah! Jesus Fucking Christ, my bloody skull is gonna split!" he swore, as Angel held him. "Is this what the damn visions felt like to that Brachen demon of yours?" "He wasn't mine, Spike, but yes, poor Doyle had a hell of a headache every time he got a vision." "Tisn't right," his childe whined. "Hurts like a fucker." "What did you see?" Angel asked, rubbing gently at Spike's temples. "Sunnyhell. Something is stalking the witches. Something…primal?" Spike said, closing his eyes to review the vision still emblazoned on the backs of his eyes. "It's angry. They did something. I can't tell any more…can't see it clearly, just eyes…angry eyes in a dark face." "Well, we wanted to go home anyway," Angel said calmly, still rubbing at Spike's temples. "Better?" "Yeah. Thanks. Could really use a shower now, though. Sounds as if the Slayer is done." "Take one. I'll go after you," Angel replied. Spike strode naked to the door, opening it and moving towards the now vacant bathroom still shaking his head at the throbbing in his skull. *This was bloody well going to take some getting used to,* he thought glumly. * Once showered and dressed, the vampires joined the humans at the kitchen table. Buffy had her cap scrunched down on her head again over the still damp, longish golden brown curls, and was doing her best imitation of a nonentity. Angel and Spike allowed her some space, heating and drinking their blood while standing, instead of sitting near to her as was their wont. Buffy relaxed a bit at their casual attitude and actually picked at half a bagel that Giles had prepared for her along with a morning cuppa. "The vision was clearly Sunnydale, Spike?" Wesley asked. "Yeah. T'was Sunnyhell alright. Something's after the witches," Spike muttered, swiping the back of one hand across his mouth to get the blood out of the corners. "We need to get back there now," Buffy said urgently. "I can't leave Willow and Tara in danger." "It's day, uncomfortable at best for Angel and Spike to travel," Giles noted. "You could drive me," Buffy offered. "Angel and Spike could come later…when it's dark." Wesley and Giles startled a bit at the combined growls that this suggestion drew from the vampires. Buffy continued on, ignoring the disgruntled noises of her mates. "Angel and Spike can pack up the rest of our stuff in the meantime," she suggested, not meeting either male's eyes. Angel stepped forward, a rumbling growl threatening from his chest. "Buffy, you can't mean to confront whatever it is alone. You're barely healed from yesterday," he said in concern. He reached for her head, sensitive fingers playing along her skull and feeling for the fractures that had bled so copiously only the day before. They were healed, though Buffy winced at even his gentle touch. "I'm not going to rush into anything, Angel," she replied, still and wary under his hands. "It just makes more sense for me to get back and see what's going on." "We will simply assess the situation," Giles confirmed. "Angel, you and Spike can gather everything you need and meet us there two hours after dark. It should not take you that long to collect everything." Wesley looked pensive. "What about Cordelia's things?" he asked. Sorrow flickered across Angel's face. "Donate them. Anne could certainly use them at the shelter. Do you know the one?" "I believe I'm familiar with it. I shall take care of them." Wes looked lost, which Giles noted. "Wesley, you shall, of course, be welcome to join us in Sunnydale, should you so desire," he said. I've a bedroom to spare, if you wish." Wesley looked up gratefully. "I would be delighted, Mr. Giles, thank you. I should be able to arrive within a few days, really, I don't have many possessions to pack." "Then it's settled," Buffy said. "Daylight's a wasting, Giles, let's go." She strode from the room with a single guilty backward glance at her mates, who stood dumbfounded as she stepped from the apartment, disappearing into the light, where they could not follow. * Spike was still snarking about it hours later as he and Angel threw the last of their clothes and the salvaged remains of Angel's once- extensive weapons and art collections into the back seat of the car. They'd abandoned much that was simply too ruined, but Angel was happily polishing the ash off his favorite sword, glad that it hadn't been reduced to scrap metal as so many of his things had. "Could you believe the chit, leaving us like that without a glance?" Spike said, closing the door sharply and glaring at his sire. "I can't say I know exactly what Buffy is thinking, Spike, but she's been extremely sensitive about her sexuality ever since we—I—Angelus hurt her so badly the day after we made love. She's never really believed that he was lying. And the rape just exacerbated an already bad situation. When you add to that her, well, fairly extreme sexual urges when the Beast overtook her, she may very well believe herself to be in the wrong," he said consideringly. "Enough with the Freud, Angel," Spike growled, climbing into the car. "I just want our mate back. We'd just gotten to a good place with her at her dad's and now all this crap…" Angel snorted a half laugh as he moved to the driver's side with his usual powerful grace, climbing lithely in and starting up the car. "Welcome to the angst-show that is our love life, Spike. You're just lucky you've only caught the periphery before. Nothing ever seems to go smoothly for us, why should this time be any different?" He pulled away from the curb and settled into the traffic with ease. "I'm just saying, Buffy probably needs support from us right now. Before we can settle back into comfort with each other." "As long as comfort involves plenty of snogging," his childe grumbled. * To be continued… |
