(no subject)
It took Angel all of five seconds to determine that this could not really be happening as he fought to form a coherent sentence, hopefully containing the words ‘no, we shouldn’t’ and not ‘take off your shirt’ as she moved her other hand to caress her breasts.
“Buffy,” he said with great difficulty, averting his eyes from her entirely as he tried to remember all the reasons this was a bad idea. “Stop.”
“Angel,” she countered, voice ever-so-slightly harsh, whether from desire or annoyance he was not entirely certain, “just take off your pants.”
No, this can definitely not be happening. “I don’t think- that’s a good idea,” he said tightly, still averting his eyes, which did no good at all as she let out a low moan and his gaze flashed up against his will just in time to see her arch upward as she licked her lips. This is not a good idea. No, this is insanity. I’ve been back for less than 24 hours. She is a widow. There is a reason we can’t do this which involves death and destruction-
“I’m sorry,” she near- purred, disrupting his thoughts as she suddenly crawled toward the end of the bed, skimpy camisole falling downward and giving him a prime view of oh god, she’s not wearing a bra- “Did you want me to take them off for you?”
She’s been possessed. It is the only possible-
And then she was standing in front of him and any hope of coherent thinking fled as her hands went to his belt, not hesitant and uncertain like he remembered but sure and efficient.
“I know,” she said slowly, as she removed the belt with one swift movement and let it hit the floor with a soft thud, “you’re thinking-“ she sighed in frustration, then shrugged. “Actually, forget it- I have no idea what you’re thinking. But I know that you want me. And I know that I have ALWAYS wanted you. Why do we keep pretending all the time?”
He opened his mouth to reply that it was because that was the only way, tying with limited success to remember why and then abandoning hope as she dropped to her knees and undid his zipper with her teeth and then gently used her hands to slide his pants off. She licked her lips, looking uncertain for a fraction of a second before darting her tongue out to run languorously over the head of his cock. Despite himself he couldn’t suppress a groan as his fists clenched and he uttered an expletive under his breath as she took him into her mouth, sucking lightly on his engorged head before taking him deeper and reaching a hand to fondle his balls. He felt his knees buckle and she pulled back slowly, lust in her eyes as she gently pushed him down onto the nearest bed and resumed her ministrations, sliding her mouth unhurriedly up and down for a few endless moments before drawing back and using her tongue to it’s fullest advantage, focusing on the head again for several moments before pulling back, satisfied to see his face contorted in what looked like a mixture of pleasure and pain. “Just relax,” she whispered, taking his hand in her own and placing it on his cock, causing his head to snap forward, and his eyes locked with hers as she slowly directed his hand. She frowned slightly as he put up some resistance and leaned forward, touching her lips to his and showering him with a barrage of kisses, as she continued to work with him to establish a rhythm, allowing her tongue to play with his before releasing his hand with a devilish smirk, confident he would continue his attentions to himself as she tossed her flimsy camisole over her head. She contemplated briefly before climbing onto the cot and sitting as far away from him as was possible under the circumstances, striving to give him the best view possible as she slid a hand up her thigh.
Angel felt himself grow even harder as she reached a hand inside her thong, spreading her legs as wide as possible and casually sprawling one of them over his so that her foot caressed his thigh. His breath caught and, hardly realizing what he was doing Angel increased his pace. As Buffy looked pointedly at what he was doing with his hand, letting out a small gasp of her own, he suddenly realized he wanted to see all of her. Immediately.
“Take the thong off,” he half growled, half groaned, and she arched an eyebrow as she squirmed, deliberately sliding her foot higher up his thigh.
“I was wondering if you’d ever ask,” she murmured, lifting her hips up and sliding the skimpy and offending article of clothing downward excruciatingly slowly, causing him to reach out impatiently with his free hand and rip it from her body.
She let out a small, surprised sound, then smiled as she moved her hand directly to her clitoris, rubbing, pulling, twisting in a rhythm that matched his own. “That was hot,” she gasped, moaning slightly as she rocked her hips to meet her eager hands and threw her head back sensually, pleased at his intense scrutiny of her. Her eyes fluttered shut for a fraction of a second, then snapped open in surprised pleasure as his free hand caressed her bare breast, thumb teasing her nipple as she moaned, eyes fluttering shut once more.
“Look at me,” he growled unexpectedly and she opened her eyes at once, slightly taken aback before she arched an eyebrow.
“That was sort of the point,” she murmured, voice laced with passion and she hesitated for a fraction of a second before reaching forward and with one smooth motion ripping his shirt from his body, leaving him to wonder how she had managed it as she murmured, “It’s better naked.”
“Agreed,” he said hoarsely as he lengthened his strokes before almost stopping altogether in shock as she licked two fingers sensually and lifted her hips as she trailed them down past her breast to plunge deep within herself. She let out a low moan of pleasure as she moved her hands and hips in perfect symmetry and something snapped inside of him as he began to touch himself with long, hard strokes, feeling his climax building far faster than he had wanted it to, realizing in some distant corner of his mind that, based on her rapidly moving body she was in the same predicament. She shuddered, removing her fingers from her tight opening even as she continued to rub her clitoris, enquiring more brazenly than he would eve have suspected she was capable of, “Wanna taste?” She moaned as he leaned forward slightly to capture her fingers with his mouth, sucking on them like a man possessed, unable to stop himself from sliding into vamp face.
As he gently bit down on her fingers, licking the last trace of her off of them greedily Buffy felt her legs start to quiver, room around her suddenly spinning as she felt her orgasm take her over. She screamed Angel’s name as her whole body contorted, inner muscles grasping convulsively, and the sound of his name mixed with the few drops of her blood he could feel on his tongue did him in as he erupted in a growl at his own release, spilling his cold cum onto her prone body. For endless moments they both rode their orgasms before simultaneously collapsing, momentarily sated, against the bed.
He pulled back from her at once, instinctively, suddenly self conscious and she sat up shakily, still trembling slightly as she stood and kicked two cots together on the other side of the room, absently grabbing a towel and wiping herself off before tossing it to him. “Get over here,” she said, and though her voice was gentle it was firm.
When he still didn’t move, opening his mouth to speak she shook her head, going back over to him and grabbing his hand, gently tugging him toward the makeshift queen sized bed and kissing him softly on his still vamped-out lips before pushing him onto the bed and curling up next to him.
“Buffy-“ he tried to begin even as he snaked an arm around her unconsciously, and she put a finger to his lips.
“Shhhhh,” she whispered. “I know. And I think that this would be best utilized as quiet time, okay?”
With that, she gently twined one leg through his and closed her eyes.
---
Buffy stirred what might have been hours or minutes later for all she knew at this particular moment. She felt Angel’s arms still around her, body warm from a night of lying beside her, and turned to face him, small smile on her face as she murmured “Good morning,” sleepily, looking more content than he’d seen her in a very long time, and he almost couldn’t do it.
Almost.
“Good morning,” he replied coolly, pulling away from her as her brow furrowed in confusion and he stepping over to where his pants had been abandoned on the floor, pulling them on in one swift motion before reaching for his shirt- only to drop it as though he’d been burned when he saw it had practically been shredded in half. He heard rather than saw her sit up as she asked gently, suddenly sounding far more alert,
“Are you okay?”
“I was just wondering where you learned all that,” he forced himself to reply blandly, steeling himself before turning to face her, instantly regretting the decision as he saw confusion and the beginning of hurt flash over her features as he continued, determined to protect her no matter what it cost him, “But then, I’m sure Spike was an excellent teacher.”
“You must be joking,” she said, standing with a sheet wrapped tightly around her as she headed in the direction of he own discarded pants and he continued,
“Or was he not the only one? I assume he was the first, but-“
Buffy’s jaw dropped and she trembled with barely concealed rage as she snapped, “Not that it’s any of your business, but I never did that with Spike. Spike fucked me like a-”
She looked remorseful even before the words were out of her mouth, stopping short of whatever she was going to say, and despite the fact that he knew he had goaded her into it, Angel felt like he had been sucker punched directly in the gut.
“You know I didn’t mean that,” she said almost at once, a sort of quiet desperation in her voice as she prayed he knew that was true. “I just don’t- why are you saying this to me?”
The pained expression on her face almost broke his heart until a new idea occurred to him and he felt his mind harden once more as he said coldly, “I’m not Angelus, if that’s what you’re thinking. It would take more than mediocre- well, you know- to accomplish that.”
To his surprise she looked mostly amused at that statement before rolling her eyes. “Well, duh and duh,” she retorted sharply, shimmying into her jeans. “In case you missed it, that was sort of the point. And,” she said, eyes flashing, “Contrary to what you seem to think, I’m not a TOTAL idiot. I can tell the two of you apart.” She smirked slowly, adding, “Besides, even if I couldn’t, the fact that you can’t even bring yourself to use the words mutual masturbation in front of me would sort of be a giveaway. God! When are you going to realize-“
“It doesn’t matter,” he cut her off heavily in what she had come to recognize as his ‘this is the final word’ voice, and she felt intense anger at the fact that he would take that tone with her after everything even before he completed the statement with, “Last night was a mistake. Let’s not make it worse by-“
“A mistake?” she asked incredulously, letting out a disbelieving snort. “Well, it’s nice to see that your speech doesn’t get more creative over the years. Good ole reliable Angel, always good for a heartbreak.”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Buffy, let’s just admit it was a mistake-“ he began again, then trailed off, and she wondered if he would ever realize how maddening she found that, how many more hours she had spent agonizing over his millions of half-started thoughts than things he’d actually said outright-
“Care to elaborate?” she demanded harshly. “Or are we still with the cryptic?” After a long moment of silence she sighed. “Okay, then, I guess it’s safe to say that we’re still with the cryptic.” She frowned. “Which actually, I have to tell you, is kind of disappointing.” She shook her head. “But I guess that doesn’t matter. Why don’t we talk about what we can rule out in terms of this whole ‘mistake’ idea? First of all, I think it’s safe to say that that was NOT mediocre.” She paused, and then added decisively, “In any way. It doesn’t have to be intercourse to be worth something, or were they not teaching that in 17th century Ireland??”
“Actually it was 18th century-“
“My God!” she cried out in disbelief, throwing her oversized sweater over her head and stalking toward him what could only have been perceived as angrily. “You really will say ANYTHING to avoid an actual honest conversation, won’t you?”
“Buffy, you’re just not hearing me,” he said with a tormented sigh. “Why- why open up that kind of pain when it’s so simple. Last night WAS a mistake, it will NOT happen again, and I’m sorry to have-“
“Well, I am NOT sorry,” she fired back, before looking him in the eye and adding, far more softly but with infinite certainty, “And I don’t think you really are either. I just don’t get why you-“
Something in him seemed to snap as she began to analyze his feelings and he grabbed her sharply, shaking her slightly as he demanded, “When are you going to understand? We cannot do this. I am not WORTH this. You deserve-“
She yanked away from him, rolling her eyes. “Oh, wait! I know this speech too! And you know what? I am DAMN sick of your goddamned ‘I am an evil creature who is worth shit’ philosophy. The HELL with you! God forbid that a good person should actually get to experience some happiness,” she said, voice shaking with the effort it was taking to neither burst into tears, slap him, or kiss him senseless. “God forbid that-“
“I am not a person,” he cut her off harshly, and she opened her mouth to protest the statement before her face crumbled and the first of the tears she’d been suppressing trailed down her cheek.
“Okay,” she said in a small voice, hating how pathetic and young she sounded. “Fine. Say that that’s true. What about me?” Another tear trailed down her face as she took a tentative step closer to him. “Am I not a good person? Do I not deserve happiness? Forget yourself and your STUPID ideas about who you are for half a minute here and think about me.”
He swallowed hard past the lump in his throat, forcing his voice not to shake as he replied, “You’re all I ever-“
“No!” she cried, cutting him off with a sob and taking another step toward him, reaching out a shaking hand before letting it fall ineffectually to her side in a sort of defeat. “Think about ME. Don’t think about what you think I deserve to have in life and don’t think about some ridiculous, irrelevant, outdated picture you have in your head about what MY LIFE should be like and what would make me happy and what I want. I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m 28 years old and I’m done being cookie dough. And I really have to say, I think the cookie dough analogy was always wrong anyway, because even when I was becoming, I was myself and I-“ she shook her head, frustrated at her inability to explain before beginning again, “For all your efforts to protect me, I have never been normal. I have never had a normal life. And anything I EVER had that was normal, including, GOD help me, my children, paled in comparison to how happy I was with YOU.” She took a deep breath, crossing the rest of the gap between them and placing her hands firmly on his arms, looking earnestly into his face. “So what about ME? Do I not deserve happiness?”
“You know,” he said with difficulty, voice rough from the effort it was taking him not to cry himself, “That that’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”
Her face contorted briefly with an emotion Angel didn’t wholly recognize as she grasped his arms tighter, inquiring almost desperately, “Then WHY can’t you believe that happiness to me is you? Is it NO indication whatsoever to you that every time I see you I-“
His brow furrowed in confusion as he inquired “You…?”
“Just want to bask,” she said softly after a long moment. “I told you that once, right? And I-“
“No one should bask in me,” he cut her off coldly, turning from her, and Buffy felt some long-strained thread inside her finally snap as her face fell one final time before suddenly growing detached. “Fine,” she whispered slowly, “You win.” Frowning slightly at the unfamiliar words on her tongue, she said them again, louder, “You win,” pleased when he turned back toward her despite feeling the pressing need to avert her eyes from his almost immediately, stooping down under the pretext of picking up her red thong. “I am done,” she continued, voice gaining strength as she felt all the years of frustration finding an outlet. “In fact, I am so beyond done that I need a new word for done.” She blushed, looking slightly abashed as she muttered, half to herself, “ Though I do somehow feel this would have more impact if I weren’t holding the shredded remains of a red thong that you RIPPED OFF MY BODY less than-“
He looked at her, pain in his eyes. “I’m sorry about that, it was-“
“Oh my god!” she cried in exasperation. “NO more sorry! Do I look sorry? The only thing better than you ripping it off me was the expression on your face as you did it.” She shook her head in something resembling disgust. “But this just proves my point. It’s not about me. It NEVER was. It’s all about you and your insane need to punish yourself for things that, newsflash! you didn’t even do! And I can’t change that, can I?” Her eyes locked with his for an uneasy moment before she whispered sadly, “No matter how much I- I- it’s just never enough.”
She shook her head, closing her eyes for a moment and hoping for strength as she continued, louder, “Well FUCK this. I mean FUCK it. This is the LAST time you do this to me. I am DONE. If Ethan showed up right now and wanted to stake you I would stand back and LET him, that is how sick of your shit I am. Because, you know, love is so-“
“Well, that’s certainly heartening to hear,” Buffy suddenly heard from behind her and she turned around slowly in dismayed disbelief to see Ethan standing at the door, surrounded by men. “I was concerned I was going to need to fight both of you.”