DISCLAIMER: Wash, dry-clean only, lent resistant, 100 percent cotton/nylon blend, extremely flammable, keep away from children, bake at 400 degrees Fahrenheit, May contain peanuts, hydrogenated soybean oil, tofu, propyl gallate, olive oil, popcorn, 100 percent natural juices made from concentrate, do not drink or inhale. In other words, I don't own the characters in this story.
Closing her eyes and coughing and sneezing some more, Buffy got up from the couch, walked to the kitchen and pulled down a glass. The running tap water masked the quite obvious and loud sounds of an intruder coming into the dark room. Buffy turned to see someone, and with an ear-piercing scream, the glass slipped from her hands and shattered on the floor.
Buffy saw who it was and sighed with relief, then contorted her face in anger.
"Dammit Angel! Look what you made me do!" She rounded the puddle of glass shards and grabbed a broom.
"Not happy to see me, lover?"
"Hardly. Why're you here, anyway? It's---" cough, sneeze, "---only," Buffy glanced at the clock, "10 o'clock. In the morning. Suddenly forget that you're allergic---" sneeze, "---to sunlight in the worst kind of way?"
Angelus didn't, couldn't say anything. He just stared at her as she swept up the glass and started to wipe up the water. A critical eye ran over her. She was completely disheveled, her hair wasn't brushed or washed, her nose was red and peeling, allergic black circles graced the bottoms of her eyes. The list went on and on. And all he could think was She. Is. Beautiful.
Finishing her tedious task, Buffy walked into the living room and Angelus followed. She sat down on the couch and he copied her action. After thirty minutes of The View, Angelus said, "Is this all you're going to do?"
Her eyes went wide with mock worry and shock. "Oh dear! Masa, Masa, Iz so sorry!" She put her hand over her mouth. "Lordy, lordy! No no no, Buffy ain't gonna have that!" Buffy rolled her eyes. "Iz sorry if Iz not entertainin' you. What would be more to Masa's likin'?"
"Well, now that you mention it-"
"Don't even," snort, cough, "get started." Buffy scooted away from him and then laid down, her head in Angelus' lap, over the erection he'd had since he'd first come in. He looked down at her.
"What are you doing?"
"I know you haven't been sick in, like, 220 years, but it's," cough, "common knowledge that when one has---" sneeze, "---the flu, one sleeps."
"219, to be exact. But how did you get the flu in the first place?"
Buffy stared up at him incredulously. "C'mon, brain trust." Cough, sneeze "Don't you remember?" He just shook his head rather lamely. "Last night, in the park? It was raining and we fucked?" Angelus stared at her, confused. "Is this some kind of vampire Alzheimer's?"
"Oh....you mean you got sick from fucking in the rain?" He laughed. "Sometimes I just forget how fragile you humans are." Narrowing her eyes, Buffy shot up straight and left for a nearby chair. "What? What did I do?"
"Don't 'What did I do' me! I'm here, sneezing and coughing and throwing up with a sore throat and a headache from hell and you just forgot how fragile we humans are?" Buffy stood and walked to his coat, throwing it at him harshly as he stood too, backing up in surprise when it hit him. "Thanks a bunch for stopping by. Your visit will be forgotten as soon as you leave. Goodbye." As she said this, she pushed him toward the door, not even caring that it was daytime and a few seconds outside would kill him.
"Now wait just a Goddamned minute here!"
Slamming himself purposefully against the door that could mean his death, Angelus swerved around and held Buffy to it. "You want to know how I got here during the day? I snuck out! I stole Spike's car and drove here! Do you know how much hell I'm going to get?"
"You didn't even have to come! Your presence here is not welcomed and I don't care what happens to you when you leave! Go away! I'm sick and I look like crap and I don't need you here to do the exact opposite of supporting me! Go live your stupid, self-involved, self-righteous un-life, but leave me out of it!" Buffy screamed at him.
"You want me to walk out that door and never come back? Do you want me to?"
"As of now, I'm thinking yes! What is your problem anyway? I did nothing to you. Not a single thing. But it's in your sick pleasure to torment me. To use me as a sexual punching bag and then try to make up for it. I'm tired of it! It's only been a week and I'm so fucking tired of you!" Pushing him purposefully into a beam of sunlight she strode out of the hall, up the stairs and into her room. That left Angelus wondering what he was supposed to do.
Coming into the living room, Angelus plopped down into the leather upholstered chair and flipped off the TV. Okay, think. You've been alive for 250 years, you have to have learned something about saying sorry. Wait. Sorry? In all the terms of making her life miserable, sorry was not in the agreement. But, I have to. I can't leave her like this. She just doesn't realize how beautiful she is...if she did maybe I could--hey! Stop that! No, now is not the time to be thinking about how exquisitely perfect she is. How you can love her even when--Stop stop stop! Just go up there and say you're sorry. Not hard...and you don't even have to mean it. But I do....Okay, if you're going to keep doing that, then leave! What? Something is definitely wrong when I have conversations with myself. No, what's really wrong is when you start answering yourself.
Well don't just sit here like a fucking moose off, do something. You're a demon. She's your woman. Are you going to let her control you? Make you sit here until she decides to forgive you. No! No you won't!
"No I won't--" Angelus' hand shot over his mouth in embarrassment and his cheeks flushed a light pink color. He'd repeated his thoughts out loud....emphasizing the loud part of the word. Buffy could surely hear him. Oops.
Forgetting his momentary lapse of reason he marched up the stairs, determined to take what was his.
***
Buffy stretched out on the bed, flipping through Cosmo boredly, thinking vaguely about it while the rest of her mind was focused on how badly she needed to fuck Angelus. That's the bitter end. How much do you actually think he's going to march up the stairs and just fuck? He could....really. She smirked at her own thoughts. Care to sail away from your continent of denial, Buffy?
Sighing, she rolled over, Cosmo still open in hand, trying to get more comfortable. "10 ways to show your lover how to please you." Buffy read from the magazine. "Yeah, right." She then got a funny image in her head of brooding during sex to show Angelus how to act like Angel. "I guess they don't make Cosmo for Slayers with crappy lives." She snorted.
On impulse, Buffy threw the magazine against the wall and walked to her vanity. She stared at herself, thinking of how she could possibly have sex while looking like a sick gazelle. When her hand absently reached the brush she skimmed it over the surface of the desk, Buffy decided to go for it and began to brush out the braided pigtails her hair was in. Messy braided pigtails at that.
She had just finished when she heard a loud yell from down stairs. "No I won't!" Buffy started to giggle wildly, thinking about the possibility of Angelus talking to himself. But when he tromped up the stairs and barged into her room, tears were coming out of her eyes and she was nearly rolling on the floor.
The mighty Angelus looked mightily pissed and Buffy tried to compose herself. But as he grabbed her arm fiercely, most likely making bruises, and threw her to the bed, she burst back into laughter. "What? What's so funny?"
Speaking through giggles, she replied "I heard you talking to your---" sneeze, cough, giggle giggle, "---self!" Buffy's verbal blow hit him right where it was supposed to. In realizing this, it only made her laugh more. Her stomach began to hurt and Angelus stood by the bed, arms crossed over his chest like an upset three year old.
I'm not taking this Angelus vowed silently, moving to the bed as she finally stopped laughing. He smiled seductively and sat down by her on the bed. Moving his hand to her face, he began to softly caress it moving as only Angel had. Buffy narrowed her eyes at him, knowing exactly what he was doing. "You will listen to me lover. You'll obey and yield to me before this day is through." He whispered huskily, moving forward and invading her personal space.
"I thought you'd gotten through that power trip thing Ang--" Buffy was cut off by a hand going over her mouth. In the blink of an eye, her hands were tied to the headboard by his belt and he was sitting on her legs.
Buffy began to panic. What did he think he was doing? She sucked in a breath to make a scream after his hand had removed itself, figuring that if she screamed loud enough the neighbors might hear of at least it would distract him enough as to get her bond off. Angelus sensed this. "I wouldn't do that lover..oh sure, you'll be screaming soon enough, but it won't be for help."
Ah ha! A chance to banter. It would buy her time, no matter how infantile. Seeing as he was unfastening her pajama shirt, not all that quickly, Buffy figured that she needed to do something, fast. "And why exactly shouldn't I scream? Can't big bad Angelus fight off a few pesky humans?"
"If someone came in here, I would kill them in just a few seconds. Shhh." Angelus flipped open the shirt to reveal her breasts hanging, just waiting for him. He knew Buffy would gladly give up her life if it meant saving others'. "Besides, you really don't want them to see you like this, would you?" In saying that, he began to lightly squeeze her breasts, eliciting small moans from her.
Still sitting on her feet, he pulled down her boxer shorts. In all the ways he loved her, this power was just too much. The Slayer, who could easily fight back otherwise, was completely helpless. Salvation was just a scream away, yet he had her under his thumb. Ripping the boxers right off her legs, Angelus saw the light blue nylon that covered just what he wanted. He took his time in pulling it down, savoring the sight of her naked mound. Angelus could smell her arousal and it caused childlike glee to see the look of despair on her face. A single tear rolled down Buffy's cheek as the futility of the situation. Angelus leaned forward and kissed it away, none too slowly. Another slid out from her now closed eyelids.
Tears I caused. But instead of sadness, this time he felt joy in breaking her heart. How did he change so fast? Not answering his own question, Angelus scooted down farther, stopping to place a kiss on her nether of curls, then pulling off her panties. He leaned forward again, his mouth right by her ear. "Are you going to be a good girl? Are you going to stay?"
A tearful Buffy nodded, slumping down in self-hatred and disgust. "Good girl. You can have a treat later." Angelus hadn't done this in almost a century. He hadn't made a young woman go so far into depression, that just when she thought there was no possible way to feel worse, he'd rip out another piece of her heart in a long time. Wait, come to think of it, he'd never done that. He'd drove many girls into depression, Drusilla into insanity, but he'd never made one his consort and slave. Internally, he smiled. This was going to be fun.
PERMANENTLY UNFINISHED
RATING: NC-17. That means all you kiddies have to look away.
FEEDBACK: That's a given. I live off the stuff, like Buffy lives off Angel, like Angel lives off blood, like Willow lives off computers. Drop me a line or an ego boost. CLICK HERE
DEDICATION: Pheebe. I told her I'd dedicate the next one to her and dedicate I did.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm sorry this story took so long to get out. And it isn't even finished. Life has thrown me an extremely hardball and I'm sorry if this isn't as good as it should be.
AUTHOR'S NOTE TWO: THE SEQUEL: This is the fourth in the Fair Play weries and sequel to "Fucking in the Rain". The dark, melancholy, blood play/torture them is coming soon. You'll see that in the middle where I left off. Cruel? Yes, I know.
The Summers' household was not quiet. It was filled with the persistent echoes of coughs, sneezes and vomiting. "What a stupid idea! 'Oh, a little fucking in the'---" sneeze, "---'rain never hurt anyone.' Not unless you're---" cough, "---human!" Buffy ranted to the empty, uncaring living room. Her congested head never heard the DeSoto pullup to the driveway and into the garage.