She kissed him slowly, letting the passion build between them in a way she wasn’t aware of doing.
Usually things between them exploded in a crash of light and sound, feeling and need. But now, she wanted it differently. This was her lead, and Buffy was determined to see it through. Her hands tangled themselves in Angelus’ hair, the thickness of it soft against her fingertips, and they tingled at the sensation.
Her heels allowed her to dictate their pace, their excitement, more than normal, their height more even now than usual, and still she felt his hands on her waist drawing her closer, higher, against him.
“No,” she murmured, drawing back slightly to watch him. “It’s my turn,” she said.
His eyes changed then, and Buffy wondered what that meant. But he nodded once, hands still on her, unwilling to let her go. Smiling at him, her hands moved to his shoulders, broad and strong, Buffy gently guided him in the direction of their bed. The nerves she expected weren’t there, nor was the indecision. No, all she knew was Angelus.
This was right. This was how it was supposed to be.
(Did you think it was a joke? Did you think I didn’t mean everything? You’re shortsighted and jealous; it’s only about you, isn’t it. Well guess what, lover. You’re wrong.)
Sitting him on the edge of the bed, Buffy smiled down at him, her fingers once more combing through his hair, tracing forehead and cheek, across parted lips. Leaning closer, she kissed him again, unable to resist doing so. Slipping her hands to his shirt, Buffy slowly unbuttoned the soft velvet – how he could wear something so warm in this world, she didn’t know, but appreciated it nonetheless. The softness of it, the delicate fabric, the erotic way it felt against her palms.
Sliding it off his shoulders, Buffy followed the path of the shirt with her mouth, tasting Angelus’ cool skin, muscled and alabaster in the red light. She smiled against him as her teeth scrapped over the side of his neck, and he jerked, growling her name – she’d have to remember that for later. Letting the shirt fall to the ground, Buffy gracefully sank to her knees, her dress pooling around her in a cloud of scented silk.
“Do you know,” Angelus asked, his voice a husky rumble in the quiet of their chambers. “How often I dreamed of seeing you like this. Kneeling before me, supplicate to my wishes.”
Smiling, Buffy looked up from her submissive pose. “Have you?” She didn’t understand all of what was required of her; this was too new for her to really understand it all. But she knew that this was something she not only had to do, but more…it was something she wanted to do.
Eyes still locked with his, she ran her palms over the buttery soft leather of his pants – how the material didn’t chafe him was another mystery she doubted she’d ever learn. Her fingers never fumbled, though her heart raced. She was seducing him, Buffy reminded herself, but, she discovered as she watched his reactions, felt his erection under her fingers, she was arousing herself, too.
“And what is it you wish of me, Angelus?” she asked, undoing the clasp holding his pants closed. The zipper was harder, but he made no move to help her, and Buffy wondered if he realized she had to do this on her own.
His eyes darkened, black and alluring. One hand came up to fist in her hair, tugging her closer to him. “You have no idea, my love,” he whispered. “No idea of the things I want to do to you.”
He kissed her then, hard and demanding, branding her in a way she wasn’t sure of. But she was his. There was never any doubt of that.
Pulling away, eyes hooded now, Angelus leaned back on his elbows, stretched before her. Breathless, Buffy waited. What was that all about? What was she supposed to do now? Continue on? Well, he wasn’t doing anything else, wasn’t taking this control away from her. She’d wonder why later…
Working the zipper down, she slipped her warm hands inside his pants, caressing cool hips. Tugging the pants over his hips and down his legs, Buffy then realized she’d forgotten to take off his shoes. This seduction thing was harder than she imagined. Plus, she was so aroused, it was hard to concentrate on what she was supposed to do to him.
She never imagined power over someone like this could be so heady. Quickly untying his boots and slipping those off, tossing them someplace behind her, Buffy finished pulling his pants off and tossed them with the boots.
For a long moment she stared at him, taking in his body, laid out before her. It wasn’t as if she’d never seen him before, no she knew his body intimately; the cool hardness, the way he felt against her, the way they moved together. But this was the first time Buffy had seen him stationary. Waiting for her.
Crawling up his lower half, hands gliding up thighs, hips, belly, Buffy debated what to do next. She’d never actually tasted Angelus, not in the way she was currently contemplating. Allowing her mouth to move over the tops of thighs, she took a deep breath and licked his erect cock.
Unsure how to actually give a blowjob, she nonetheless went with the flow. Could you do it wrong? Only now did doubts creep through her, but Angelus said nothing, did nothing, and, if possible, he grew harder as her tongue played over him. Swirling her tongue over the top, Buffy sucked the tip into her mouth.
Angelus’ indrawn breath was enough to let her know she wasn’t totally messing this up. A quick glance at his face reassured her further. But when his fist tangled in her hair, holding her firm, Buffy smiled. That reaction was all she wanted and more.
Purring slightly at that, Buffy opened her mouth, taking his cock into the warm cavern bit by bit, trying to relax, trying to remember everything she’d ever read on the subject. Academic knowledge, however, wasn’t helping. There was no way Angelus was fitting into her mouth.
“Relax, baby,” he whispered, hand still tangled in her hair. “Don’t force it. Take your time; relax your jaw and throat.”
What did he know? Buffy wanted to demand, but his fist prevented her from pulling back and asking just that. Instead, she did what he said, letting his advice, spoken in that smoothly silken voice, wash over her. She never knew that giving him pleasure would be a pleasure of its own. Is this what he felt? Maybe one day she’d have the nerve to ask him.
Taking him into her mouth, nails digging into his hip and drawing a faint scent of blood, Buffy did as he instructed. Angelus’ hand tightened, and he groaned her name, but she didn’t stop, taking his hard cock further each time, swirling her tongue over the tip. Her hand went to the base of him, stroking him, fingers grazing his balls. Another moan of her name, and Buffy smiled, brushing his balls with her fingertips again.
“Fondle them, lover,” he instructed, and she did as he bade. Soft, he was so soft, and Buffy wondered how she could take him into her body night after night, and not realize something like that.
Releasing him, to his annoyed growl, Buffy sat back, forcing his hand out of her hair. So much for her beautiful seductress look. Pushing him flat on the bed, she instructed, “Scoot up, Angelus.”
He did so, still looking at her through hooded eyes. Watching him move, graceful even now and fully aroused, Buffy wondered what he thought. But he gave nothing away as he watched and waited.
Pushing the thin straps that held her gown up, she let the material fall to the floor, stepping out of the forgotten dress. All she wore were the heels that went with the dress, three inches of thin silk covered leather, skimpy panties she knew Angelus preferred her not to wear but that covered her in delicate handmade lace and silk, and one of the many corsets she owned. Taking a minute, Buffy watched him watch her.
His reaction was all she needed to continued, and she swore she heard his approval deep within her mind where the bond that occasionally connected them lay.
He wanted her, oh, she knew that, but this was…different. This wasn’t because he could have her, no it was because she willingly offered herself to him. It was the turning point in their relationship, and Buffy couldn’t believe she was doing this. Not this, per se, but that she felt…comfortable, ready. Willing.
“Why?” he demanded.
“Why what?” though she had a good idea what he meant.
“Why are you doing this?”
Giving him a coy smile, she walked to the foot of the bed, slowly placing one knee then the other on the comfortable mattress. His eyes were riveted to her, watching her breasts in the corset, her flat stomach, the secrets her lace panties barely hid. The earrings he’d given her, the necklace and bracelet. In a move that was unpracticed, but innate nonetheless, she crawled up his body, letting her skin touch his, watching him the entire time.
“Why am I seducing you?” she asked. “Why am I touching you?” her hand drifted to his erection. “Why am I tasting you?” her mouth kissed an unhurried path from navel to throat. Against the side of his neck, near his ear she whispered, “Why does it matter?”
“It does,” he said in a strangled voice, and she smiled in triumph.
“Because I want you,” she admitted, settling her wet heat, covered as it was by the panties she’d spent ages searching for, over his cock. “I can’t deny it, and I won’t anymore. I want you, and there’s no reason to pretend otherwise.”
She kissed him again, but he allowed it for only a moment before his hand fisted once more in her hair, drawing her back. “Why now?”
“I needed to adjust,” she whispered, completely honest; and he knew it, she knew he did. “You taking doesn’t mean that I’ll automatically give in. Isn’t that what you like about me? That I don’t give in because you wish it?”
He said nothing, but Buffy knew. “You don’t have to say it,” she told him. “It’s obvious to me.”
“It wasn’t before,” he said.
“Before was…” she stopped for a moment, seriously looking at him. Her hands rested on his chest, mouth away from his tempting skin. “I didn’t know before. I didn’t know what you wanted, what you were doing. You never explained, but you expected me to understand. I didn’t.”
“Why do you now?”
Shrugging, she lowered her mouth back to his. “Because,” she kissed him. “I’m smarter now.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It is,” she insisted. “I know what’s happening now; I know why you did what you did. I know why you said things, gave me all those gifts.” She fingered the bracelet she still wore, the necklace. “I know why you couldn’t kill me when I was so sure, at first, that that was all you wanted to do. No one told me differently, and everyone thought the same thing – why shouldn’t I think you wanted me dead? You certainly made no secret of how you hated me, what a lousy fuck I was.”
In a move she didn’t expect, Buffy found herself flipped, pinned under Angelus’ body, his cock hard against her thigh. Sucking in a breath at the feel, she opened wider, moved against him, but said nothing.
“Then you don’t understand everything you think you do, Buffy,” he told her. She was surprised with the use of her name, but didn’t comment. His hand cupped her cheek, and he looked at her with such fierce passion, such…devotion? It made her heart flutter.
Oh, God, she was falling in love with him.
“I understand you,” she told him quietly. “I understand that you’re more than you let on, and that it’s hard to know you. I understand that you are a proud, passionate man who wants what he wants, and anyone standing in his way is dead.”
“But do you understand your place in my life?”
Wrapping her arms around him, Buffy touched her lips to his. “I understand that there’s a lot between us that I’m only now beginning to get. That you’re hardly the type of person to share your feelings with me.”
Those hooded eyes looked intently into hers, and Buffy wondered what he thought. “Do you want to know?” his hand caressed her cheek, down her neck, feather-light fingertips sending tingles of sensation through her. “Do you want to know what I think? What I feel?”
Buffy nodded, but couldn’t ask. This was it then. This was the step between them. There was no going back after this, no changing paths or destinies. If she asked now, he’d tell her, she knew he would. Did she want to know? Oh, she knew, knew that he’d created all this for her, it’d been drilled into her by Drusilla and her own realizations since the beginning of all this.
(You can say the words, you know, she laughed. I promise, it won’t kill you.)
“No,” he smirked, leaning down to kiss her. “You have to say the words, lover.”
Swallowing, legs wrapped around his lean hips, his cock teasing her heat, nails pressed against his shoulders, Buffy nodded. “Tell me,” she whispered, staring into eyes that told her things she’d rather not know. The emotions in them, the knowledge, the reasoning terrified her to a degree she couldn’t acknowledge even to herself.
But the power inherent in that beautiful gaze was not something she feared. Instead, she felt comforted and safe, knowing that he could and would protect her from anything.
(The dreams came again, as they had for the past untold days. But Angelus was there, and Buffy knew that. His strong arms around her, his body pressed against hers. His voice, rough with emotion as he spoke softly; a beacon in the panic that gripped her.)
“I want to know why you did all this,” she whispered. “I want to know why you said horrible things to me in the apartment after…” she swallowed. “After our night together. I want to know why, that last night before you woke Acathla, you said that it wasn’t always about me, that I fell for it every single time, and yet…”
(‘Jeez, is it me? Or is your heart just not in this? Maybe I’ll just go home, destroy the world, after all, lover.’ ‘Well, I think Mr. Pointy’ll have something to say about that. Come on. Let’s finish this. You and me.’ ‘Y-you never learn, do you? This wasn’t about you. This was never about you. And you fall for it every single time!’)
“And yet, what?”
(And now he killed a demon. He’d done that for her. He’d killed that demon. Because Goo-Man was out to kill her. Looking at the group only now wandering back inside Willy’s, Buffy wondered if it was the first he’d killed…for her.)
“And yet it does seem about me.”
He smiled down at her, and Buffy wondered what that smile meant. “It’s always about you, lover,” he was passionate in his agreement, fierce in that devotion.
“Then why lie?”
“Would you have listened to me if I’d told you the truth? If I said to you,” he asked, tone serious and grave, “Buffy run away with me. Leave Sunnydale and your parasitic friends and oblivious mother and come live with me, my love. Would you have?”
Mutely, she shook her head no. She wouldn’t have, and they both knew it. Even now, with so many truths exposed, so much more between them, and between her and her friends, Buffy wasn’t sure of the answer.
“Of course you wouldn’t have,” Angelus agreed, and his tone was hard, mocking now. Automatically attempting to soothe him for reasons she couldn’t name, Buffy’s thumb traced his cheekbone, jaw, eyebrow.
“But then,” she countered, “you never asked.”
A bark of laughter dispelled his dark mood, and he rolled them again, settling her over him. Pushing against his restraining arms, Buffy reflected that this wasn’t exactly how her seduction was supposed to go. There wasn’t supposed to be talking. There was only supposed to be screwing. But then, nothing had gone the way she thought it would since Angelus returned.
Rising over him, she said, “There are a lot of maybes that could have been done differently. Maybe if you hadn’t made fun of me after I gave you my virginity. Maybe if you explained that you were…courtingg
“Rupert was supposed to tell you, lover,” he said, hands on her hips. With a sharp tug, the delicate lace of her panties broke, and Angelus tossed the shredded remains to one side, smirking up at her indignant huff. She was quite convinced that they were the only panties she had.
“But I suppose your watcher didn’t want you to understand what I was doing. Pity,” he smirked, slipping a long, cool finger into her. Catching her breath, Buffy closed her eyes and moved against him. “Imagine,” he whispered, rearing up to capture her mouth in a brutal kiss she eagerly returned. “What we could have done instead.”
Looking at him with passion drugged eyes, Buffy nodded. She knew what he was saying, believed she knew what he was not, and wondered if he’d ever tell her. Tell her that he loved her. She was positive of that now. Terrified, but positive of his feelings towards her, of his intentions.
With a wicked smirk, she pushed him back to the bed, catching his hands and entwining her fingers with his. Her body ached for his, needing him in a way she’d never have thought, but she had one more question first. Letting her hair shield them, brushing her lips lightly against his, she pulled back to watch his expression: the eyes only she could read, a telltale flicker of something on his face.
“Why?”
He said nothing, but he knew what she meant, Buffy was certain of it. His face betrayed nothing, but his eyes, deep within them in a secret recess only she knew of, lay her answers. Love. Fear. Hope. Her.
“Because,” he finally admitted. “It was the only way I could have you all to myself.”
“And why did you want me,” she whispered, releasing her hold on his hands, moving back down his body, “all to yourself?”
“You know the answer to that, lover,” he told her.
“I think I do,” Buffy nodded, watching him as she once more began her seduction. He wouldn’t tell her, maybe he couldn’t voice the words. Unsure how she felt about that, Buffy licked his hard cock, once more taking him into her mouth. He hissed in pleasure, and she purred in appreciation.
Releasing him before he could fist a hand in her hair, force her to rush her movements, Buffy climbed back atop him. Her hand fondled him, stroking his hard flesh as she watched him. He was beautiful; handsome features, often hard and uninviting, but for her, always for her, they softened. Welcomed her. Needed her.
(Had we but world enough, and time…and now they did.)
Settling over him, taking him into her welcoming body, Buffy said, “Maybe one day, you’ll be able to tell me.”
Moving slowly, hands bracing herself on his chest, she continued to watch him. His hands grasped her hips, and she placed hers over his, fingers twining together as they moved.
“Tell me what you want,” she whispered, moving faster now, taking him deeper into her.
“I want you at my mercy,” he rasped out, and she knew he was close to the edge. Was it because he let himself go, let go of the control he held over himself? “I want you tied to the bed, begging for me to stop. I want you so exhausted from your orgasms that you can’t take any more. And then I want you begging me for more.”
“Tied?” Buffy faltered at the term, images of the cave (She was chained to the Earth) flashing through her mind (They raped her, defiled her as they forced something which should never have happened on her). Forcing them away, she focused on the rest of his words, and a shiver of need lanced through her, clenching her insides. (She was chained to the Earth, but he was there. He needed her; he was going to find her. She was chained to the Earth, but he wasn’t going to leave her there.)
She countered, “Tied to the bed, eh? At my mercy?” She liked that image, could imagine him with unbreakable chains clasping his wrists and ankles, spread before her and at her mercy.
Yes, Buffy smiled, envisioning him just like that, she could enjoy that. The next thing she knew, Angelus’ arms were stretched high over his head and out to the sides, the same chains she’d imagined around him keeping him chained to the bed. Surprised, she looked behind her, and noted that his legs were stretched, too.
“Buffy,” he growled in warning, but she looked at him with such a mixture of lust and innocence, he didn’t say anything more.
Shocked, she stared at him. How…? What had happened…? Where’d the chains come from? How had they…clasped themselves? What the hell?
“At my mercy,” she whispered, awed by this display. Had he done that? Or had she? Climbing off him, kneeling on the bed beside him, she ran a nail over his cock, glistening now from her body. “Is this how you want me? Spread before you, willing and,” she ran that nail up the length of him, smirking at his hiss of breath.
“Oh, so eager for your hands,” she ran that nail from his cock, up his stomach and chest to circle his nipple. “Your mouth,” lowering herself to him, she once more took him into her mouth, sucking hard and eagerly, teeth scraping over tender flesh, relaxing jaw and throat in a move she was unconscious of doing as she took him deeper into her throat. The taste of her sent a shiver through Buffy, and she wondered if that was normal…
“And body driving me mad with need?” Stretching over him, Buffy allowed her nipples, hard and aching for his mouth, to glide along his chest, her hair to tickle him. “Is that what you want, lover?”
“Yes,” he growled, eyes black, the swirling red and blue deep within him now. “I want you begging me to stop. I want you completely at my mercy, unable to move as I bring you up to one more climax.”
“Begging you,” she whispered, nipping along his jaw, hand still teasing his rock hard cock. “Begging for more. For you to stop; I can’t take any more, but you don’t listen.”
“Yes,” he hissed, hips bucking. “And then, when you can’t take any more, when you’re so sure you can’t stand the pleasure, when it’s become painful and still you want more, I’m going to fuck you until you pass out.”
Another shiver of need shot right through her. Bold now, even though she didn’t know where this new boldness came from, Buffy once more sat up to watch him. More accurately, so he could watch her. Releasing him, one hand cupped her breast, toying with the aching nipple that needed his mouth, cool tongue lapping it, teeth biting it; fangs sinking into it in a wave of hot pleasure as he suckled her blood.
Sending him a wicked smile, one that told of the depths of her passion she was only now beginning to fully plumb, Buffy slipped two fingers into herself, gasping at the feel.
“Baby,” Angelus growled, “let me do that for you.”
“Not tonight,” she said, voice breathless as she rode her fingers, imagining they were his. But the feel was off, and they both knew it. Withdrawing them, wet and glistening, she trailed them up his chest, teasing his lips with them.
Immediately, he sucked them into his cool mouth, and Buffy moaned his name. “Tonight, I’m in charge,” she said, reclaiming her fingers. “You’re playing by my rules, lover.”
With that, she set out to show him just what she meant. To taste him, to touch him, and even to show herself that she could do this. That she was in charge. Or maybe that she finally knew what she wanted. It was an admission she’d been unwilling to make until faced with the demon/slayer (She was chained to the Earth) and the consequences of that.
Maybe, Buffy thought as her hands felt Angelus’ cool skin, this was the first step for her. Not him, but her; admitting how she felt for him was a way to move away from her past. The past that no longer mattered.
“Baby,” Angelus said, eyes black and locked with hers. “Let me touch you; let me taste you.”
“You already did, baby,” she shot back, slapping his thigh, next to his aching cock, hard enough for him to twitch. “This isn’t about that. Not yet,” another wicked smile.
Still, she needed him, couldn’t take being separated from him any longer, and settled herself over him, sighing his name as she sank onto him. “God, you feel good,” she whispered as she took him deep into her body.
Moving slowly, hands again on his chest, Buffy rode them both to bliss, slamming down on him hard, back arched, eyes closed, fingers flicking her hard clit. Angelus growled, and she opened her eyes to look at him.
Using words he’d once said to her, she whispered, “Come for me baby. Watch me come.”
Another growl, and Buffy was surprised the chains didn’t break with the force of him. Another spear of need shot through her at how much he did want her. Her nails scraped over her clit, and, with a stifled gasp, Buffy came, Angelus’ name tumbling off her lips as she rocked against him.
The chains loosened the moment she climaxed, and with a roar, Angelus grabbed her, pulling her forward, and kissing her hard. Hands that had itched all night to touch her finally did, and he flipped them easily, still thrusting within her. Moaning his name, breath hitching with every thrust, Buffy opened her eyes and watched him as her orgasm built again.
Wrapping her hands in his hair, she tugged him to her, arching her neck for his mouth. “Bite me,” she whispered, moving with him. “Ah, yes, Angelus, harder…bite me and make me yours.”
“Yes, my love,” he whispered against her neck, kissing the pounding beat gently.
His fangs slipped into her skin, piercing the artery in a single smooth move that had Buffy screaming in release, tightening around him once more.
“I claim you,” he whispered, “in the tradition of my ancestors, in the tradition of the master of Aurelius, I claim you as my Mate.” So saying, he licked the wound closed, and finally found release, unsure how he’d managed to hold off his climax so long.
Collapsing atop her, Angelus finally stilled, unable to move for long moments. Sated, replete, completely at ease in her arms. Loved.
Finally rolling them over the big bed, he cradled Buffy to his side, holding her close. He had a few questions, about the chains and where they’d come from, about her sudden willingness to seduce him, but all that could wait. Nothing mattered now except Buffy in his arms.
Accepting him. Loving him. He knew it, though a part of him still wondered if it was Angel and not he who she envisioned.
She’d accepted him, stayed with him, held him close and loved him. Wanted him at least, he wasn’t sure about love, but…she’d willingly come to him, gave herself to him. Demanded he bite her, mark her. Make her his.
She kissed his shoulder, drowsy and sated. Wrapping her arms around him, she whispered just before falling into sleep, “I love you.”
Stunned, Angelus held still, holding her close, but powerless to truly comprehend her words. (I love you.) Kissing the top of his Marked Mate’s head, he smiled. She loved him. (Angel…she loved Angel…but he wasn’t thinking that now. No, she loved him, and he knew it.)
“Mo grá,” he whispered in Gaelic, “Tú mo cheannsa, agus mo gnothuch lig tú téigh.”
(My love. You’re mine, and I won’t let you go.))
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