Just Old Friends ((RP locked to _wiccabuffy_))
Never had Angel been so frustrated that he couldn't look at himself in a mirror. It wasn't as if there was anything even remotely implied in the "date" he was having with Buffy that it would be anything but a couple of old acquaintances getting together to do some talking and shopping. Buffy would be getting a little long-overdue pampering,
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And if Angel was going to be honest about it, he was fine with that.
They kept kissing, stretched out next to each other, as Buffy tugged his shirt out of his pants. There was a four-way clunk as shoes were kicked off, and Angel's usually deft fingers fumbled with the buttons on Buffy's blouse. Angel came from an era where the whole backwards-button thing on women's clothes actually meant something, and he still hated it.
It didn't matter, he reminded himself. The less-than-suaveness of his technique, and their obvious shared hesitation about not stopping (that was, he was thankful, not strong enough to actually stop), none of it mattered. Buffy was there, with him, and what had been there before was still there.
Angel let his hands roam freely as they both clumsily disrobed. He always did like keeping contact with Buffy, no matter how casually, it always meant something to touch her. Finally, and with some nervous laughter on both sides, they got down to skin. Angel gazed for a second, admiring, then lay beside Buffy, gently pulling her toward him.
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And a light bulb went off over Buffy's head. Figuratively, of course, but still. She held Angel close to her and placed small kisses on his body, working her way around her favorite area - his chest - and then back up to his mouth where she cupped his face and smiled brightly.
"I love you." She just had to say it again, one more time. "I love you, Angel, and I want to make love to you... but there's something else I want you to do first."
Chewing on her lower lip nervously, she scooted up the bed until her neck was closer to his mouth. "Angel...? Please." He didn't need her Slayer's blood, he wasn't dying, and she didn't need pain to make her feel something anymore. But the curiousity had gotten to her. She wanted to know what it felt like to be with Angel - completely - and to have him drink not because he had to, but because he wanted to.
"Please...?"
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Even though she didn't say it, the meaning was clear. And it wasn't so much as a request as something the slight low tones that colored her voice implied was something deeper, something much closer to a need than a want. And even though it would be invisible to most eyes, Angel's could pick out the tiny variation in color that told him exactly where the old scar was.
Buffy's voice was almost pleading. Angel's first reaction was to draw back, horrified at the implication. But he didn't. Angel didn't move as the idea rang through his mind. Already in the last few hours things had come to pass that they had both been sure would be impossible. And though everything was still the same between them, everything was different about them.
And maybe, Angel thought, lowering his head to kiss Buffy, it meant all the old bets were off.
He shifted positions, his chest and stomach dragging smoothly against hers, Angel settled, tantalizingly close to her warmth. Angel kissed along Buffy's jaw and down to her throat where the strong, steady beat of her pulse called to him. His face slipped into its vampire form and as gently as he could, Angel pressed his fangs against her skin.
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"Angel," she murmured softly to him, arms wrapped around him, in a very clingy-way. It hurt, naturally, but in that good sort of way. She knew he wouldn't hurt her on purpose, that he'd be careful, and when he'd vamped out on her, all she could remember was when she kissed him like that at the ice skating rink.
He'd been ashamed. She hadn't.
Her neck tilted back further as her breathing quickened, and then her legs wrapped around his trying to pull him inside her so that he could take life and give life (or some weird Anne Rice type of thing like that) all at once.
"God, yes, please... love you."
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The initial rush of blood that spilled past his lips hit him harder than any whiskey, and burned twice as hot as it rushed into his throat and down through his body. Buffy was just as impossibly hot around him and between her legs, arms and Slayer-powered muscles all over, she was gripping him almost painfully tightly.
If Angel thought he had forgotten what it was like to feed on a Slayer, his vampire self hadn't. The lightning bolt rush of power that took over him was a lot more familiar and welcome than he ever wanted it to be. But there was something different about it this time. Last time, he was taking, and even though Buffy had been willing to give, it had been her sacrifice.
Now, as Angel felt her start to writhe under him and felt the vibration of moans and sighs under his lips, he realized he was giving right back to her.
Angel felt the flow of blood slow. He pulled back his fangs and let out something that was part groan and part growl, finding his body rolling and pushing against Buffy with an almost frantic pace. Vision narrow, all Angel could see or feel was Buffy beneath him, and it wasn't long before he found himself at the edge of the cliff.
Bending his neck, he slipped his fangs again into Buffy's throat just as he felt himself exploding inside her.
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