She Comes to Me

Cabin Fever

She was asleep. 

Angelus looked over at his love, refining the drawing he was doing of her. Firelight was the perfect backdrop, the orange blaze popping and sparking and the logs hissing as the fire consumed them. Buffy lay sprawled on the thick rug, blonde hair spread out across the floor in the orange light, head turned slightly towards him, seeking her mate even in sleep. 

They had taken a day and a night in the mountains, leaving Connor in charge of their army. Angelus smiled as he thought of his son’s expression when he was told. 

“You…you’re putting me in charge of them?” He had sounded almost scared but Angelus detected a strong note of hope, awe, and pride in his son’s voice. 

“It’s only for a day, Connor;” Angelus had reiterated with a slight smile at his son’s enthusiasm. “Buffy and I are going to a cabin we own in the mountains while we’re here. All you really need to do is make sure no one decides to up rise while we’re gone; our army or theirs. The population here is subdued and the humans, for now, are clueless.” 

Buffy had turned to him, then, as his son nodded and went in search of food and drink smiling a mixture of love, humor, and cunning on her face. “That’s probably the best idea you’ve had, baby. Putting him in charge like that. Gives him a greater purpose than just following us around. Plus,” she had added, licking her lips as a hand drifted over her tightly bound breasts, “It gives us some free time.”

Hardening at just the thought, Angelus looked again at the drawing he completed. He had spent most of the evening sketching her; sometimes she was awake, sometimes asleep, most times in one wanton position or another. Flipping though the pile surrounding him, he took his pencils and touched up one or two. 

They had only taken twenty-four hours in this remote location in Canada, and spent the first several of those hours playing in the snow Buffy had only seen once before. Luckily the cold didn't really affect them too much and their foreplay rapidly turned into Angelus taking her against a tree in the middle of a snow covered field. 

The servants he had sent ahead to open the cabin had done so and left by the time they made it inside. A fire was roaring away and the curtains were opened to let the rising sunlight in; each window had recently been replaced with tinted glass to protect the sun sensitive inhabitants from the harmful rays. 

Angelus looked up from his drawing; it was one of Buffy cupping her breasts, head thrown back in pleasure, at her moan. It never ceased to amaze him that she retained the habit of moaning and sighing in her sleep. Smiling what could only be termed a ‘gentle’ smile at his lover he picked up a fresh sheet and began to sketch her again. 

He had often indulged in this pastime, drawing many things from memory such as her feeding, the glow in her eyes when vampires and demons knelt before her, paying homage to their queen, or the two of them dancing at The Infinity. But this was different. This was their time. 

“Angelus?” 

He looked up from his pad and smiled at his mate, setting aside the paper and pencils. Crawling, naked, the few feet to where she lay, he leaned over her, capturing her mouth with his. 

“Drawing again? Aren’t you glad you bought out that store before we left Las Vegas?” Buffy couldn’t help but verbally tease him even as her hands roamed lower to his erection, fingers playing over the hardening flesh. 

Growling low in his throat, Angelus pulled back and picked up his pad again. “You have no idea how stunning you are, here. The firelight dances off our skin giving the illusion of warmth. It highlights your hair and sparkles in your eyes.” 

Looking up briefly to watch her, silhouetted against the fire, leaning on one hand as the other rested on her hip tracing meaningless circles on her smooth skin, her hair falling over her shoulders and breasts, he continued to sketch in quick broad strokes. 

“Every time I see you I want you, every time I hear your voice, smell your unique luscious scent, think of you.” He finished this drawing and added it to the ever growing pile he had of her, of them, and returned his full attention to Buffy. 

Her skin was warm to the touch and sent a thrill through him. Earlier she had been cold, colder than normal as they leaned against the tree, frosty air whirling around them. Now, she was hot, an inferno to match his own. This was the one thing he missed about her humanity, this heat. 

A small price for her by his side for eternity, however, and one he was wiling to pay. 

Running his large hands over her slim body, Angelus continued to pay homage to his goddess, his love, his mate. His mouth tasted every inch of her, each hollow and dip, returned to her mouth to catch the escaping sigh of his name. Swirling his tongue around her hip to her core, dipping in for a brief taste, then another because he could never get enough. 

Buffy shifted suddenly, reversing their positions. 

For a long minute she held him captive, arms pinned above his head, hips caught between her muscular thighs. She stared at him, her eyes a vivid green in her passion, his almost black with want of her. Golden hair blanketed them, encasing them in a veil of privacy. 

“Mine,” Buffy whispered, though there really wasn’t any doubt. 

Her mouth was a cool contrast to the heat of his skin and Angelus couldn’t help the gasp that escaped him. Her tongue traced his ribs, teeth clamped on his nipples, hands still holding his at his side, not allowing him the touch he so desperately needed. Lower and lower she went, to his erection. 

There she stopped, slowed, took her time, teased and tormented with nipping bites and quick flicks of her tongue. Finally taking him into her mouth, all the way, caressing his heavy balls with her hand, and suddenly stopped. 

“Buffy…” the growl only made her smiled and Buffy licked a line back up his chest to his mouth, taking it in a heated kiss that had Angelus gripping her hips hard enough to leave bruises. 

She rose over him, a golden goddess in the firelight, sinking down, taking him into her body, and they sighed. 

Quick, fast, hard, harder, more, faster, now, Buffy rose over him quickly, her own hands toying with her breasts, her head thrown back, hair tickling the tops of his thighs, his hands holding her hips ever tighter as they spun out of control, her inner muscles rippling about him, clenching him, forcing every pleasure from him. 

“Angelus!” She screamed and her face morphed, needing his blood as she needed his body. 

He reared up, capturing a pert nipple with his own fangs, offering her his wrist in this, the last exchange. 

Buffy collapsed over him, sated, spent, content for the moment. “I love these vacation ideas,” she said eventually, a murmur against his hard chest. “Vegas, The Grand Canyon, Yellowstone Park, Alaska, Canada…I hadn’t seen the outside of Sunnydale for so long and those wars didn’t exactly come with time off for sightseeing.” 

“Didn’t I promise you, love, that I’d show you the world?” His hand ran through her hair, tangling there to bring her mouth back to his. 

“Actually, I believe it was give me the world.” 

He chuckled against her lips, tongues dueling. “Show, see, give, same thing.” 

“Have you decided what you’re going to do about Connor?” 

“Unless he decides to go back to his weak-willed do-gooder ways, then I see no reason things can’t go on as they are. He’ll either come around on his own or he won’t and we kill him.” 

“Hmm, the boy has potential,” Buffy agreed. “But we’ll think on that later. The sun is still a ways off, and the fire isn’t near to being burned out.” And she kissed him, leaving her meaning clear.

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