It was hoped that their second meeting would go better than their first.

Buffy didn’t put much faith in that hope, though, as she stepped out of her dubious safe haven of the Hyperion Hotel and into the night. She rejected the idea of driving, despite the noticeable lack of beings cluttering the normally busy LA streets; she couldn’t concentrate on the car and locating Angelus, she wasn’t that good contrary to her own hype.  

Her slayer senses were running wild, yet another distraction, but there was nothing to fight. The demons were either very adept at hiding from her for fear of Angelus repercussions, or they had no quarrel with her.

Laughing at that thought, Buffy wondered when she had lost all her senses; 98% of the demons in California had a quarrel with her of some kind. Imagine, though, being more scared of Angelus than her.

“Maybe I really am losing my touch.” She murmured to herself as she turned the street corner just in time to see a brawl breakout between several individuals. “Ah,” she said, brightening immediately, glad to have something on which to spend her excess energy “Good, a fight.”

Leaping into the fray with only a cursory glance at the opponents, Buffy held back her punches as she realized the fighters were all human. Executing several rapid roundhouse kicks in a row, and following them up with perfectly placed – if pulled – punches, Buffy looked at the bodies lying on the ground in various states of pain.  

Not demons, no, but they had served to relieve her of some tension. Maybe she should thank them.

“Your city is all but in flames, you’re not even in control of the streets anymore, and you’re fighting over a,” she looked at the ground where pieces of several electronics were scattered, and finished incredulously, “A television set?” She looked from one human to the next, glaring them all in the eye as she went around the group of seven. “Geez, people, get some priorities. If you’re going to fight, at least fight the real bad guys of our show.”

“Who the fuck are you, lady?” One asked as he spit out a glob of blood, missing Buffy’s leather boot by a scant inch.

Turning the full force of her Slayer glare on the man who had spoken, a glare that had caused countless vampires and demons to decide retreat was the better part of valor, Buffy said, “Watch where you spit, there, buddy, or I’ll forget whose side I’m really on. And watch your language. Now then, I’m the one who’s about to save your pathetic excuse for a life. Listen up and listen well; your city is under attack from forces you can’t even begin to imagine. You have several choices: either stay inside where you’ll be marginally safe, help fight this battle, or get the hell out of town. I have enough going on without worrying about looters and other general idiots.”

Without looking, she moved her foot to the chest of another man, this one behind her, who was trying to get up. Whether it was to attack her or not didn’t matter, it all went to prove her point: which was that she had and could, again, kick all their asses without breaking a sweat if she wanted to. They all seemed to get it when no one else moved.

“Questions, comments, suggestions?” Buffy questioned in a perfectly reasonable and jovial voice.

“Just who the fuck are you, Xena?” The first man asked again, eyeing her with hostility and a growing gleam of fear. Obviously, he had been paying attention to the world around him.

“I believe I answered that already,” Buffy said with a disappointed look on her face and shifted her foot, threatening to stomp on him as well. He got the message and quieted. “Now then,” she said cheerily, hauling the nearest man, which happened to be the loud-mouthed speaker of the group, up to his feet one-handed.  

“Who’s for home?” She smiled at the man, dusting his chest and shoulders off as if she were apologizing for causing his fall but the gesture had a faintly derisive feel to it. “And remember; don’t ever verbally invite someone inside. You never know who’s running around the streets at night.”

Pausing as she turned to leave, Buffy asked one more question, her eyes holding everyone’s captive, as they had all yet to move from their prone position on the street. “Anyone ever hear of Angelus?” At their blank looks, she clarified somewhat impatiently, “Scourge of Europe, blah, blah, vicious, gorgeous and evil, likes to hear himself talk?” She refused to think on what other wonderful talents his sexy mouth had and added, “Tall, muscular, dark and brooding?” Still nothing, trying once more she added, “Likes to be in charge of things.”

At their negative headshakes, Buffy shrugged. Well, she hadn’t expected it to be that easy. Besides, they were human and, from the looks of things, until very recently not well versed on what went bump in the night. Still, she was surprised Angelus hadn’t had his name engraved into the chests of every human still in LA; just as a reminder of who, exactly, was in charge of the city.

Whistling as she left the confused – but alive – pile of human flesh behind her, satisfied that at least some of them would listen to her, Buffy continued on her search.

Feeling the comforting slap of her sword against her back, – it was only due to the recent fights with the First Evil and Its Harbingers that Buffy began to wear a sword – and the half dozen stakes hidden on her body, Buffy continued on her way. She felt a lot like a woman on some kind of quest or crusade; she only hoped this one ended a lot better than some of the ones she had read about in her history books.  

However, Buffy was determined, as she continued her patrol, to find her prey: any and all demons in the city and Angelus. Could they be called that, Buffy wondered as she randomly turned right, when her patrolees and prey were in hiding from her?  

Humming under her breath, Buffy wandered along the mostly deserted Los Angeles streets, using all her senses – her newfound heightened ones and those good old-fashioned Buffy Slayer ones – to follow the bond she shared with Angel. Angelus. Whomever. Damn, this was getting more than confusing.

The bond pulsated along her skin, wrapping itself around her like a cocoon. Breathing deeply and closing her eyes to better concentrate on it, Buffy walked purposely forward, long strides that ate up the ground. No matter how focused she was on the bond with her vampire, she was always fully aware of her surroundings; being scared of Angelus was one thing, the chances of all the demons in the city actually ignoring his directive to not fight the slayer was another. Left, right, down one block, up another, it didn’t matter where she was going; she only knew her destination.

And there he was.

Standing nonchalantly against a tree in the middle of a deserted park that looked like something out of a Hollywood film. Well, it was the right city for that. Dozen of strands of white lights decorated the clearing making it look almost daylight-like, a table for two was set up in the middle of the grassy area, and soft music wafted from invisible speakers amongst the trees.

“It’s all in the seduction,” Buffy murmured to herself, steeling her nerves for another round with a master, as her feet walked forward without her conscious command to do so.

Stopping a foot away from him, Buffy swept her gaze around the clearing once more before locking eyes with him. He again wore his trademark leather pants, low riding on his hips, accenting his toned muscles wonderfully. Resisting the urge to lick her lips, Buffy noted the fact that his shirt was silk and buttoned only to mid chest, leaving a tantalizing peak of marble skin beneath.

What the hell, she thought; I have to get to him somehow. The spell worked no other way; during the height of passion, during the moment when they were ultimately joined, Buffy had to recite the three lines of the Essence Spell to draw the demon (the way too sexy demon to Buffy’s way of thinking) into her body.

The problem with that was twofold, however. One, she wasn’t sure she could remember anything other than him while he was touching her, let alone the words to the spell; she sure as hell hadn’t remembered anything other than him the day before.

And second…he had to be drinking from her while she recited them. She was deathly afraid, despite what she had assured the gang back in Sunnydale, that once Angelus began drinking from her he wouldn’t stop…or she wouldn’t want him too, and Buffy wouldn’t be able to say the words in time and she’d wake up as her worst nightmare, as a  vampire.

Yet another small flaw with their plan, and one she wasn’t willing to examine all too closely.

“So now that you own a whole city are you planning on seducing me on every square inch of that?” Buffy asked and couldn’t help it when her tongue snuck out to graze her lips, moistening them under his watchful gaze.

“Now there’s an idea, lover, might take a while though, LA’s a pretty bit city.” He pushed off the tree and walked to her. Reaching out a hand to caress her face, he moved down to finger the leather tank top covering her torso, to her bare arms. “Want to give it a try? Might put a serious crimp in your plan, though,” he smirked, “But I’m more than willing.”  

Buffy had to swallow once, hard, before she was sure her voice would work. “I just bet,” she said, wondering where her wit had gone. Then, firmer, “Not really into dominating everything, lover? And here I thought that someone with your ego wouldn’t be satisfied with just LA. Why not the world?”  

Not stopping his caress along her upper chest, left bare by the plunging neckline of the top, Angelus murmured appreciatively, “I love you in leather, baby, really adds something, though your body is already exquisite.” Shrugging the comment off, though he was acutely aware of both said body and Buffy’s hitch of breath in reaction to his comment, Angelus switched subjects.  

“The world? Emperor Angelus, Angelus god of the world, while it does have a certain ring to it, imagine the work I’d have to do in order to ensure my throne is secure.” Angelus entwined their hands together, tugging her flush against his hard, cool body, his erection pressing into her stomach. “I can think of many more pleasurable things to do with our time, our eternity, can’t you lover?”  

Moisture flooded through her, leaving Buffy breathless and painfully aroused. Why was it, she wondered, Angelus had the ability to completely make her forget everything around her, narrowing her world so that there was only him? She knew her job, knew what she had to do, and yet she wanted only to let his silken voice glide over her, his hands caress every inch of her skin, his mouth to devour her.  

Maybe it was better when he was simply trying to kill her and all her friends. It certainly seemed that way now if not then. This was getting to be too much.  

His nostrils flared at the scent of her arousal, drawing in the proof of her desire savoring it, his eyes flashing between gold and brown his own desire showing clearly through. “You like that don’t you?” He asked in a husky whisper that floated along her skin as he moved that delicious mouth over her neck and shoulders. 

“I love how your body calls to mine, Buffy. How it has always called to me, lured me, damn near drove me insane all those years ago.” He pulled back to again look in her eyes, mocking himself with his next words. “Me, who has indulged every whim, every urge, every kink known to both man and demon. I’ve lost count of the women I’ve fucked into oblivion, love. And I was intent on working through even more the second I was free of Angel’s rotten influence…until you ensnared me with those hungry little eyes. A seventeen year-old girl and a slayer no less.” 

He said musingly as if he still, even after all the time that had passed between their first meeting and now, he couldn’t quite figure out how it had happened to him. How he had become so entranced with this human as to want to give up everything for her. And he thought Spike was whipped. 

Delicately licking the scar on her neck, smiling at her sigh as she arched her head to allow him better access, tightening her fingers around his, Angelus continued his murmuring into the curve of flesh right behind her ear.  

“I should have put you back in bed that day you returned to the pathetic excuse for an apartment, should have picked you right up and wrapped you around me until there was no telling where one of us ended and the other began. Should have taken you until who I was or wasn’t no longer mattered. Until who you are, wasn’t nearly as important as me; as me bringing your hot little body to satisfaction over and over and over.” 

Blunt teeth clamped on her scar, but only briefly, and he smiled at her gasp of pleasure before he moved to taste more of her skin, his words still flowing. “I should have taken you over and over again until my name was the only one on your lips and in your mind. Until my body was the only thing you knew and the only thing you wanted, until my scent was all you smelled and all you tasted. And when you were too sated to move, I should have made you mine. Eternally mine, for no one else’s pleasure, no one else’s touch. But I fucked up.” 

Angelus’ hand clenched in her hair, yanking her head back as if it were Buffy’s fault he hadn’t wooed her that way. She didn’t whimper at the rough treatment, all she did, all she could do, was listen as her body screamed for his, her blood pounded through her, her entire being screaming, needing, wanting, solely for him.  

“All this time we could have been together, my love,” he continued as his big hands combed through her hair, the moment of self-anger over, his iron-fisted control once more firmly in place. He cupped her head, cradling her precious beauty as his lips continued their journey over her face before he finished. “Instead I once more had to watch while your precious Angel fucked our lives up even more than when he left you.”  

His thumb softly caressed her bottom lip, his eyes intent on hers. Angelus saw the passion there, the need, the love and yes, even the confusion. Did she realize, he wondered, that that love shone clearly through and it was for him? That whatever she may feel or have felt for Angel – and it angered Angelus to realize he wasn’t the one to get to her first – what she felt for him, Angelus was equal to or more than that? 

“The difference, lover, between Angel and I is…I learn from my mistakes.” Lips still caressing her dewy skin, Angelus changed tactics. “Tell me, my love, what would you like me to do to that delectable body? Anything you want, anything you crave. No desire is too insignificant, no fantasy too outrageous. My passion for you is inextinguishable, my hunger for you infinite. And by heaven or hell I will have eternity with you Buffy. Angel had his chance and he threw it away now it’s my turn and, my love, my queen, whether you acknowledge it or not you are mine.” 

Angelus kissed her then, a bruising mating of their mouths. His hands still cupped her face and Buffy had to hold onto his waist, afraid she’d be swept away by the force of their passion. If she had been able to think of anything but his taste, scent, feel, Buffy would have realized that she was right: She was too immersed in him, in them to perform the spell.  

“You really think you’ll be satisfied with only me, Angelus?” Buffy asked when he broke off the kiss and she could speak again. And then wondered why she had bothered to open her mouth. “You aren’t exactly known for your, ah, fidelity. And with a track record like that, why would I want to stay with you?”  

In answer her vampire crushed her lips with his again, attacking, devouring her as if he couldn’t get enough of her taste. Buffy surrendered immediately, kissing him back with equal fervor, rising on the toes of her boots for better access. She moaned into his mouth as he broke away for a scarce minute to change angles.  

Hands entwining with hers, Angelus lifted her against him, her hips now cradling his erection and she gasped his name at the contact. Wrapping her legs around his waist, Buffy ground against him, cursing the barrier of their clothing, some part of her still realizing what she had known all along; she didn’t have the strength to carry out the spell.  

Buffy knew she was being carried away in the passion Angelus brought out in her and she didn’t care.  

“You are mine, lover,” Angelus said breaking off the kiss on her gasp of need, his voice hoarse with lust, his eyes black with wanting her, “It isn’t a matter of you wanting to stay with me.”  

He looked into her eyes, his own honest in their need of her, and saw the same in her eyes. Was it their curse, he wondered, to need someone so badly you would do anything to be with them? To stay with them for eternity? To destroy or save just to have them by your side?  

Her heat burned him through their clothing; her arousal scented the California winter air and had his blood screaming for her. For her own blood. Angelus heard Angel, deep within him, roaring for Buffy, but the demon could tell that the soul wanted her body, her blood, as much as he wanted her heart.  

Too bad Angelus wasn’t about to allow that.  

“Tell me you don’t want me, Buffy. Tell me that your body doesn’t scream for mine when we’re apart, that you don’t call out my name when you wake alone at night.” Still holding her flush against him, Angelus brushed his lips along each cheek, her forehead, each eyelid, and finally her mouth. The merest brush, just to keep contact with her as he continued his verbal seduction.  

“Our passion knows no bounds, Buffy; we are fire incarnate when we’re together. How could I not want you? I’ve always wanted you, and you have always been mine.” His mouth touched hers again as her focus was torn between wanting to hear his words and more of his addicting kisses. Eyes cloudy with lust, her brain all but shut down from it, Buffy nonetheless listened to Angelus.  

“Who knows what’ll happen in the future,” Angelus continued, carefully choosing his words. Too much on ‘eternity’ and she’d pull back, realize his intent on more than a theoretical level, but he had to make his point; force was one thing, but a voluntarily capitulation on her behalf was so much sweeter and would last so much longer.  

“The future is uncertain at best, but I do promise you this, my queen,” he said, looking again into her eyes, willing her to see his sincerity in this at least. “I will never leave you. I will never give you up no matter what, no matter what or whom we have to face, I will never, ever leave you, and not even death can separate us. I swear this to you.”  

He held himself perfectly still after that passionate declaration, meaning every word of it but wondering if she believed him. What he said was true, he would never leave her; though he was loath to admit it, he was hers as much as she was his. He wouldn’t be the whipping-boy Angel, but they’d be together forever.

True mates, in every sense of the word.

“Angelus,” Buffy whispered, pausing a moment as if gathering her thoughts before capturing his lips with hers. She didn’t know what to say, had no idea how to respond to something like that. She believed him, despite the niggling voice in the back of her mind saying there were too many unanswered question in that affirmation.  

But, if nothing else, Buffy believed that he would never leave her, never turn his back on her and walk away from what they had. They belonged together and she knew that. The fact that she was referring to the demon and not the soul was almost incidental. She loved Angel, she knew she did and nothing would ever change that.  

Angelus and Angel shared so many traits, though, as many as they didn’t. And Angel had hurt her so many times in the past. Not that she was completely blameless, but the hurt was still there, coloring everything she had done since his abrupt departure on a smoke and pain filled evening.  

But Angelus…he was faithful in his courtship of her, despite what Buffy knew he had done with Drusilla and who knew whom the hell else, that was a fleeting pastime, not remotely the same devotion he had showed her. He had always been faithful in his feelings towards her, never once wavered in that, never said one thing but did another. 

And he sure as hell didn’t ‘fall in love’ with Cordelia. 

No, Buffy may have loved Angel, but Angelus held a large place in her heart, too. And she could no longer deny that. 

Pulling back a hairsbreadth, Buffy looked into Angelus’ eyes, demon gold shining with his dark brown. Could she do it? Could she deny the both of them by completing the spell? Buffy had no idea, none at all. Her heart broke either way, didn’t it? 

Well, there was always tomorrow, wasn’t there? 

Not that tomorrow looked any better in respect to answers, but she couldn’t think on it tonight. Tonight she wanted her lover, her love. 

“Angelus,” she said again, her voice husky with need and love. She brought her still clothed body down onto his, not knowing how to verbalize her need, her want. She untangled their hands and his automatically cupped her bottom, holding her even closer. Moving her hands to his chest, Buffy caressed the smooth flesh visible through the opened collar before slowly unbuttoning the remaining fastens. 

Their eyes locked and for a brief moment triumph flashed in Angelus’ eyes before being replaced by pure passion. Was it her imagination, or was that love flashing there as well? Maybe there was more of the soul in the demon than either halves of the man wanted to admit. 

Pushing the shirt as far off his shoulders as she could manage, Buffy kissed her way down his neck, nipping at the dead artery there, smiling and doing it again, harder, when Angelus growled in pleasure, walking them to one of the seats. Frowning when one of his hands left her, Buffy resumed her journey across his chest when she realized he was only reaching for the blanket folded there. 

Angelus took a minute, then another as he was distracted by Buffy’s mouth back on his, to spread the large soft wool covering over the ground before lowering them both. He loomed over her for a second before they both realized that a slow reintroduction of their bodies could wait, this was all about the now, the need, the fire burning in both their blood to be joined with their mate. 

“Now,” Buffy said and reared up, stripping his shirt from his body as quickly as she could manage, nails scraping down his chest, deftly undoing the snap and zipper there. His hands replaced hers as he stripped free of the confining leathers. 

Angelus moved his hands to her pants, just barely resisting the urge to rip them off her. Quickly undoing the fastenings, he tossed them aside along with her lacy panties. His large cool hands gripped her ankles, pulling her along the blanket towards him as he caressed up her calves, teasing the inside of her thighs before moving along the outside of her hips, taking the leather tank top with him as he moved higher. 

Buffy sighed as his mouth followed the path of his hands, tongue swirling round her naval, nipping kisses along her belly to her breasts. Raising her arms to allow Angelus to tug the top over her head, Buffy found herself caught in the material when he twisted it around her hands. 

She opened her eyes to look at him but only saw his handsome features for a brief second as he bent to take her nipple in his mouth, face transforming into his vampiric visage, fangs scraping the areole drawing thin lines of blood. Arching further into his mouth, Buffy cried out in pleasure, Angelus’ name echoing around the clearing. 

Forgotten were spells and harvests, gone was any idea to draw her magnificent lover into her body, all she wanted was him. Buffy couldn’t remember why she was there, only that she was. She couldn’t remember why she had wanted to subdue him, only that she couldn’t. She wanted him, wanted all of him, somehow, any way, and that, in this perfect moment that was all theirs, was all that mattered. 

He seated himself in her with one strong thrust then, demon face to the fore, showing his mate all that he was. Buffy knew; she knew and she wanted. She jerked her hands free, desperate to touch Angelus, uncaring that she ripped her top in the process. Drawing him closer, Buffy kissed him, running her tongue along his fangs, her nails scraping down his back drawing faint traces of blood. 

Wrapping her legs around his hips, Buffy opened her eyes, taking a moment just to bask in this time. “Who knows,” she whispered to her lover, a hand caressing his face, “What tomorrow may bring? We have only now, my love, let’s enjoy in it to the fullest.” 

So saying she began to move.

Angelus let out a roar of pleasure, of victory, and thrust into her, his mouth again crushing hers, tasting everything she had to offer, knowing he had won. Faster, harder, more, they wanted it all, they had it all. Just as he felt Buffy’s inner heat ripple around him, Angelus sank his fangs into her arched neck, drinking only a little before his own powerful climax washed through him. 

They collapsed in a heap of tangled limps, exhausted, sated, wrapped in each other’s scent, an integral part of the other that nothing could ever break. 

But there was always tomorrow
~~~~~~~~~~
However, the night was not yet over. 

Waking, though she really didn’t remember falling asleep, Buffy’s first thought was that Angelus had lied and abandoned her as well. He wasn’t where she remembered him, which was where he had collapsed next to her, wrapping his strong arms about her waist, a cool hand cupping her breast in a possessive manner. Her head had fit perfectly just under his chin and Buffy remembered resting her hands over his arms.

Resisting the urge to cry now, Buffy sat up and looked around her. She was wrong, she realized as her hazel gaze landed on him. He hadn’t left her. He was getting her food. 

The forgotten table was piled with some of her favorite foods and a bottle of opened wine. Angelus, magnificently naked and seemingly unconcerned with that, turned towards her, his piercing gaze holding her own as he walked towards her. Buffy made no move to cover herself though he was looking at her with a hungry look in his eyes; it was way too late for modesty. 

She held his gaze as he set the plate on the ground next to her and poured them each a glass of wine. Handing her one he asked, “What’s wrong, love?” 

How did he know…? Buffy wanted to question him but decided it didn’t matter. He did and that was enough for her. Honesty was harder for her. If she told him of her insecurities he’d no doubt use them against her, maybe not now but sometime in the future. Something compelled her to be straightforward, though. 

“I thought you left.” It was simple, her sincere feelings, but Buffy couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eye as she said that.

Tipping her chin up with a long finger Angelus admonished softly though his eyes held his fury at being doubted, “Didn’t I tell you, Buffy, that I’d never leave you? Why didn’t you believe me?” 

Taking a sip from her glass, Buffy shrugged, then, “Experience. It’s taught me a lot about things like this. About men staying. About you staying.” 

“I’m not him,” Angelus growled, hauling her over the blanket to his lap, his erection pressing insistently against her stomach as her legs automatically wrapped around his waist. Her wine had spilled but Buffy didn’t even notice as Angelus again grabbed her face, hard enough to command her attention but not too much so to leave bruises. 

“How many times do I have to tell you that? I am not Riley, I am most certainly not Angel. I will never let you go and I will leave you!” The words were said around his fangs, his face having shifted into the vampire form at her admission. 

“No, you did!” Buffy cried now, “You belittled me the day after I gave my virginity to Angel and left me! Left me alone in that apartment! You both left me alone.” She leaned her forehead on his shoulder her voice dropping to nothing more than a whisper.  

“Left me with those that didn’t understand or care about how I felt, just about how fast I was supposed to send your ashes to the wind. For months I grieved for Angel while I battled my love for you and fought myself nightly not to run into you arms because you were the only thing in the world I wanted and the one thing I couldn’t have.”  

A tear made its way down her face, silvery in the light. She cursed herself for her weakness and him for making her so, and hit him on the chest. Not enough to hurt, just to prove her point. 

“Damn it!” she said, her voice a mixture of pain and exasperation. “Why did you make me feel for you? Why did I care? Why do I care? I tried to forget; you left me no choice but to try and forget. This is madness. In the end something will steal you away from me. As formidable as your will is, my love, you can’t control everything; and the world seems to always be against us. ” This last was said in a whisper as Angelus gathered her close, holding her as she quieted. 

The move was so atypical for him but Buffy didn’t comprehend at first that she was clinging to him as she cried…and he was holding her tenderly as she found that release. God, when was the last time she had cried like this? When was the last time she had cared like this? Long minutes passed before Buffy realized Angelus was actually comforting her. 

Pulling back in his embrace she asked, “Why?” 

He said nothing for a moment but something flickered in his eyes to fast to for her to make sense of before it was gone. Then he shrugged, picking up his glass of wine. “You seemed to need it. I told you that I wouldn’t leave you, Buffy, and I won’t. Nor will I tolerate constant comparisons to the soul. I am not him. And this is the last time I’ll say it. Are we clear?” 

Buffy couldn’t answer; she didn’t know what to say. Differences, similarities, soul, demon, all raced through her mind but one thing was clear. Whatever the state, he was hers. And she finally accepted, despite his earlier words and actions, now she understood: she was his as well. Angelus would never let her go, never leave her, never allow her to leave. 

“Forever,” she responded finally, “That’s the whole point.” She kissed him then to seal their words. And hoped that she hadn’t just lied to both him and herself. Her resolve to do the Essence Spell was weakening by the moment. 

Breaking the kiss, Angelus turned Buffy around, setting her on the blanket between his outstretched legs. His mouth continued to caress her shoulders and neck, spending long minutes on her scar until she was moaning his name. 

“Eat, love,” the whisper sent shivers down her back as he pulled away and moved the plate in front of her. Fruit and veggies, cheese and crackers the plate was full of a variety to tempt her appetite. Shame that right now all her body wanted was his. As Buffy bit into a juicy apple piece, Angelus combed out her hair with his fingers. She wondered what he was doing when she felt him begin to braid her hair but didn’t ask. 

Angelus spread the golden strands of her hair across his wide palms, just looking at the silky locks for a moment before picking up several thin emerald and onyx chains and threading them through her hair.  He plaited until she sighed against his chest, small hands running up and down his thighs, her lower back pressing against his rock hard cock.  

Turning her around to examine his work, Angelus nodded and finished the last of his wine in one swallow. “Beautiful, perfect.”  

Buffy had seen a strand as he was working them into her long hair; the jewels were exquisite and she wondered where he had gotten them. Ultimately it didn’t matter, but she did want to know how she looked in them. Vain? Yes, but Buffy couldn’t care about that now.  

Tomorrow, she promised herself as Angelus placed a matching emerald and onyx armband around her upper arm, tomorrow she’d go back to the real world. Tomorrow.  

“Yes,” he murmured, examining his masterpiece. “Perfect, my love, perfect.” Knocking the glass and the plate out of his way, Angelus laid her back on the blanket and proceeded to pay homage to her body, whispering words of adoration and worship, as he tasted every inch of her.  

Yes, tomorrow.

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