BtVS Fic: Surrendering To Desire [NSFW]
Title: Surrendering To Desire
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Buffy, Angel.
Rating: NC-17
Setting: Shortly before Surprise / Innocence.
Summary: Buffy and Angel are supposed to be patrolling, but their make-out session gets a bit out of control.
Word Count: 1891
Content Notes: Unrepentant smut!
Written For: bbtp_challenge 2024.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Buffy, or the characters.
Patrol was a serious business, Buffy tried to remind herself. She was out here doing her duty as the Slayer, dealing with the legions of the undead to protect the living residents of Sunnydale. The more vamps she staked, the fewer people would lose their lives at the pointy end of their fangs, of get turned into vamps themselves. Vampires were an infestation to be exterminated, like ants, or termites, only bigger and more bitey, and she was the exterminator.
Only problem was, she found it a lot easier to keep all that in mind when she was patrolling by herself. When Angel was with her, they both tended to get a bit distracted with the kissing and… other stuff. It was impossible to think about anything but Angel when his arms were around her, his lips moving against hers, their bodies all but fused together as if they were trying to get inside each other… And that was a thought she REALLY shouldn’t be having!
Not that she didn’t want to have sex with her gorgeous creature of the night boyfriend, because she did, but a cemetery probably wasn’t the best place for it. She’d always pictured her first time taking place indoors, on a comfy bed, perhaps with candlelight, and romantic music playing, and okay, it was sappy, maybe even unrealistic, but just because she was the Slayer didn’t change the fact that she was a teenage girl who’d read her share of romance magazines and seen all the best Romcoms.
It was a hot night, so Buffy was in a skimpy summer top and miniskirt, leaving as much of her skin bare for Angel’s wandering hands as she could decently get away with, and yes, that was precisely why she’d chosen this outfit in the first place. She wasn’t above driving her boyfriend crazy. Angel had one hand cupping her butt, pulling her in so close not even air molecules could get between them. His other hand was up the back of her top, his fingers cool against her heated flesh, and she was growing dizzy from kissing him, although that might be because she needed to breathe even if Angel didn’t.
Tearing her lips away from his, gasping for breath, she panted, “We should probably stop.”
“Probably,” Angel agreed, his lips trailing down the side of her neck, sending delicious shivers through her whole body. “Do you want to? Stop, I mean, not…”
“No,” she admitted, her voice sounding oddly husky. “Do you?”
“Only if you do.”
That was getting them nowhere, they could argue back and forth all night in between kisses over whether or not they should stop, and never come to a definite agreement. Then Angel was lifting her to stand on a ledge running around the base of a massive tomb, probably so he could stand up straighter without having to stop the kissing. He pressed closer, and suddenly she could feel how hard he was. Gasping, she ground herself against him.
“Buffy…” It was hardly more than a whisper, a tortured groan of desire.
“Angel!”
The hand on her butt moved to slide down the outside of her thigh, snagging on the hem of her skirt and tugging it upwards, until all that was between the two of them were Angel’s pants and her own panties. It took her breath away, and her next words came out in a strangled squeak.
“Oh God!”
“Sorry,” Angel started to pull away. “I shouldn’t have…”
“No, it’s fine.” Buffy gasped. “Better than fine. You feel…” Here brain stalled; there were no words to describe how he felt, but Angel seemed to understand her anyway. He was good at that, among oh so many other things, including kissing.
“So do you.”
Somehow, Angel contrived to pull her even closer, pressing against her, his lips trailing down to her exposed collarbone. Buffy’s head fell back, and she moaned his name softly. “Please!”
“We shouldn’t.” Angel pulled back.
“I know.” It was true, despite the desire she was feeling, according to the law, Buffy was underage. Making out was one thing, but anything more than that… Besides, she wasn’t sure she was ready for sex; that was a big step to take, there was a lot to consider. On the other hand, if they stopped now, she might just lose her mind, or implode, or something equally messy… “Please, just… do something!” She wasn’t sure exactly what she was asking Angel to do, but she needed him to do it anyway.
“Are you sure?”
Angel’s hand moved again, slipping between their bodies, sliding between her legs, pressing against her mound, over her panties, his thumb brushing lightly over her swollen clit. Buffy arched into his touch with a groan, thrusting her hips forwards, trying to increase the pressure. “Yes!” But then Angel’s hand was gone from her, and he was stepping back. “Angel?” Had she done something wrong?
“Shhh, let me…” He knelt in front of her, pushing her skirt right up, out of the way, then leaned in to press a light kiss against her panties, just above where her clit was throbbing insistently beneath the sheer fabric.
“What’re you…”
One of Angel’s fingers hooked into the gusset of her flimsy pink panties, drawing it aside as Angel settled himself more comfortably and urged Buffy’s legs apart. She leaned back against the tomb behind her, letting it take most of her weight; the top was just below her butt, so she was almost sitting on it. Her heart was pounding, and her breath quickened as Angel leaned in again.
Then his tongue swept across her moist folds, and she could almost have swooned at the sensation. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced before, touching herself down there in her dimly lit bedroom, learning what felt good, teasing herself towards a good but not completely satisfying climax.
Angel traced the tip of his tongue along one side of her clit, then the other, back and forth, over and over, occasionally flicking across the swollen bud itself, sending sharp jolts of sensation through her. Sometimes he paused for a moment to suckle on the tiny, sensitised nub, making her legs tremble. Shuddering with pleasure, she shifted them a little further apart, unsure whether she was doing so for the sake of balance or to give Angel more room.
“God, that’s so…” She trailed off, hissing sharply as she felt a blunt fingertip press between her folds.
“Sorry,” Angel murmured against her, sending unexpectedly delicious vibrations through her most intimate parts. “Did I hurt you?”
“No, you just surprised me. Don’t stop.” One of her hands moved to tease her own nipples while the other found its way into Angel’s hair, urging him to continue, and he did, that cool, moist tongue resuming its delicate lapping, seeking out her pleasure points, those she’d already discovered for herself, and others she hadn’t even suspected. The finger probed again, more gently this time, finding entry and sliding slowly inside. For the first time, Buffy became aware of how wet she was.
The finger slid rhythmically in and out for a few moments before being joined by a second, and soon after, a third. They couldn’t reach very deep, they were too short to fully chart her depths, but the thickness was welcome, and the bumps of finger joints scraping the inside of her vagina provided a degree of friction, somehow enhanced by her wetness. She could feel her climax beginning to coil inside her, building towards release.
Angel must have sensed something because his rhythm changed, his fingers thrusting harder and faster inside her, his tongue flickering back and forth so rapidly he seemed to be lapping everywhere at once. Buffy felt balanced on the crest of a wave, no, a tsunami, being swept helplessly towards the shore. Then Angel crooked his fingers, the tips brushing against something deep inside her, and the world seemed to explode around her.
When she came back to herself, Angel had withdrawn his fingers, but was still lapping at her gently, soothing her through the aftershocks of the most intense climax she’d even experienced. Her legs were weak and shaky, as limp as cooked noodles, and she felt like all her bones had melted, but at the same time she was floating on a cloud of endorphins. She would have liked the stay that way forever, but now the edge of the tomb was digging painfully into her butt. She tugged gently at Angel’s hair, and he lifted his head, his face smeared with her juices, his eyes wide, dark pools in the fitful moonlight.
“Buffy? You okay?”
“Better than okay.” Buffy was dimly aware of her own giddy grin as she replied. “WAY better. I had no idea…” She trailed off, shaking her head, and stifling a giggle. “Your face… You’re all sticky now.”
“I know.” He wiped his hand on the leg of his pants, then used his sleeve to clean the lower half of his face, gazing up at her with hooded eyes. “You’re beautiful.”
Buffy blushed, suddenly aware of her dishevelled clothing. Quickly she adjusted her panties and straightened her shirt. It was a bit creased, but hopefully that wouldn’t be too noticeable. Her gaze dropped from Angel’s face to the bulge in his pants.
“You’re still…” She bit her lip. “Do you, uh, need a hand with that?” She’d never really touched him there, not intentionally, but after what he’d done for her, it seemed only fair to reciprocate.
Angel’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. “No, I’m fine, leave that for another time. I can wait.”
It was kind of a relief, but not because she didn’t want to please him. She just wasn’t sure she could handle another sensory overload like the one she’d just experienced, not right now when she still felt giddy and as if her legs didn’t belong to her.
“Thank you.” She half stepped, half slid off the ledge and sank onto the cool grass, glad to be off her feet while she got her breath and her bones back.
Angel leaned towards her, tilting her head back to kiss her, softly and tenderly. She could taste herself on his lips and it was… weird, but not unpleasant. “I wanted to please you, to make you feel good.”
“You did, you have. I never imagined anything could feel so… Is it always like that?”
“Sometimes, it’s even better.”
“Better? Wow.”
They stayed seated on the grass for a few more minutes, then Buffy stirred. “I should get back to patrolling. If my legs will work.”
Chuckling, Angel got up, offering her his hand, which she accepted, allowing him to help her up. Her legs still felt a bit shaky, but they didn’t give way beneath her, so she’d probably be fine.
The moon, half-full, came out from behind a cloud, gilding the tombs, gravestones, and mausoleums, the grass and the trees. Buffy kept hold of Angel’s hand, unwilling to break the connection between them. Everything had changed, she felt energised, her whole body tingling, as if she was poised on the brink of becoming someone different, a whole new version of herself. Someday soon, she would give herself to Angel completely, and after that… Well, they’d just have to wait and see.
The End
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Buffy, Angel.
Rating: NC-17
Setting: Shortly before Surprise / Innocence.
Summary: Buffy and Angel are supposed to be patrolling, but their make-out session gets a bit out of control.
Word Count: 1891
Content Notes: Unrepentant smut!
Written For: bbtp_challenge 2024.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Buffy, or the characters.
Patrol was a serious business, Buffy tried to remind herself. She was out here doing her duty as the Slayer, dealing with the legions of the undead to protect the living residents of Sunnydale. The more vamps she staked, the fewer people would lose their lives at the pointy end of their fangs, of get turned into vamps themselves. Vampires were an infestation to be exterminated, like ants, or termites, only bigger and more bitey, and she was the exterminator.
Only problem was, she found it a lot easier to keep all that in mind when she was patrolling by herself. When Angel was with her, they both tended to get a bit distracted with the kissing and… other stuff. It was impossible to think about anything but Angel when his arms were around her, his lips moving against hers, their bodies all but fused together as if they were trying to get inside each other… And that was a thought she REALLY shouldn’t be having!
Not that she didn’t want to have sex with her gorgeous creature of the night boyfriend, because she did, but a cemetery probably wasn’t the best place for it. She’d always pictured her first time taking place indoors, on a comfy bed, perhaps with candlelight, and romantic music playing, and okay, it was sappy, maybe even unrealistic, but just because she was the Slayer didn’t change the fact that she was a teenage girl who’d read her share of romance magazines and seen all the best Romcoms.
It was a hot night, so Buffy was in a skimpy summer top and miniskirt, leaving as much of her skin bare for Angel’s wandering hands as she could decently get away with, and yes, that was precisely why she’d chosen this outfit in the first place. She wasn’t above driving her boyfriend crazy. Angel had one hand cupping her butt, pulling her in so close not even air molecules could get between them. His other hand was up the back of her top, his fingers cool against her heated flesh, and she was growing dizzy from kissing him, although that might be because she needed to breathe even if Angel didn’t.
Tearing her lips away from his, gasping for breath, she panted, “We should probably stop.”
“Probably,” Angel agreed, his lips trailing down the side of her neck, sending delicious shivers through her whole body. “Do you want to? Stop, I mean, not…”
“No,” she admitted, her voice sounding oddly husky. “Do you?”
“Only if you do.”
That was getting them nowhere, they could argue back and forth all night in between kisses over whether or not they should stop, and never come to a definite agreement. Then Angel was lifting her to stand on a ledge running around the base of a massive tomb, probably so he could stand up straighter without having to stop the kissing. He pressed closer, and suddenly she could feel how hard he was. Gasping, she ground herself against him.
“Buffy…” It was hardly more than a whisper, a tortured groan of desire.
“Angel!”
The hand on her butt moved to slide down the outside of her thigh, snagging on the hem of her skirt and tugging it upwards, until all that was between the two of them were Angel’s pants and her own panties. It took her breath away, and her next words came out in a strangled squeak.
“Oh God!”
“Sorry,” Angel started to pull away. “I shouldn’t have…”
“No, it’s fine.” Buffy gasped. “Better than fine. You feel…” Here brain stalled; there were no words to describe how he felt, but Angel seemed to understand her anyway. He was good at that, among oh so many other things, including kissing.
“So do you.”
Somehow, Angel contrived to pull her even closer, pressing against her, his lips trailing down to her exposed collarbone. Buffy’s head fell back, and she moaned his name softly. “Please!”
“We shouldn’t.” Angel pulled back.
“I know.” It was true, despite the desire she was feeling, according to the law, Buffy was underage. Making out was one thing, but anything more than that… Besides, she wasn’t sure she was ready for sex; that was a big step to take, there was a lot to consider. On the other hand, if they stopped now, she might just lose her mind, or implode, or something equally messy… “Please, just… do something!” She wasn’t sure exactly what she was asking Angel to do, but she needed him to do it anyway.
“Are you sure?”
Angel’s hand moved again, slipping between their bodies, sliding between her legs, pressing against her mound, over her panties, his thumb brushing lightly over her swollen clit. Buffy arched into his touch with a groan, thrusting her hips forwards, trying to increase the pressure. “Yes!” But then Angel’s hand was gone from her, and he was stepping back. “Angel?” Had she done something wrong?
“Shhh, let me…” He knelt in front of her, pushing her skirt right up, out of the way, then leaned in to press a light kiss against her panties, just above where her clit was throbbing insistently beneath the sheer fabric.
“What’re you…”
One of Angel’s fingers hooked into the gusset of her flimsy pink panties, drawing it aside as Angel settled himself more comfortably and urged Buffy’s legs apart. She leaned back against the tomb behind her, letting it take most of her weight; the top was just below her butt, so she was almost sitting on it. Her heart was pounding, and her breath quickened as Angel leaned in again.
Then his tongue swept across her moist folds, and she could almost have swooned at the sensation. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced before, touching herself down there in her dimly lit bedroom, learning what felt good, teasing herself towards a good but not completely satisfying climax.
Angel traced the tip of his tongue along one side of her clit, then the other, back and forth, over and over, occasionally flicking across the swollen bud itself, sending sharp jolts of sensation through her. Sometimes he paused for a moment to suckle on the tiny, sensitised nub, making her legs tremble. Shuddering with pleasure, she shifted them a little further apart, unsure whether she was doing so for the sake of balance or to give Angel more room.
“God, that’s so…” She trailed off, hissing sharply as she felt a blunt fingertip press between her folds.
“Sorry,” Angel murmured against her, sending unexpectedly delicious vibrations through her most intimate parts. “Did I hurt you?”
“No, you just surprised me. Don’t stop.” One of her hands moved to tease her own nipples while the other found its way into Angel’s hair, urging him to continue, and he did, that cool, moist tongue resuming its delicate lapping, seeking out her pleasure points, those she’d already discovered for herself, and others she hadn’t even suspected. The finger probed again, more gently this time, finding entry and sliding slowly inside. For the first time, Buffy became aware of how wet she was.
The finger slid rhythmically in and out for a few moments before being joined by a second, and soon after, a third. They couldn’t reach very deep, they were too short to fully chart her depths, but the thickness was welcome, and the bumps of finger joints scraping the inside of her vagina provided a degree of friction, somehow enhanced by her wetness. She could feel her climax beginning to coil inside her, building towards release.
Angel must have sensed something because his rhythm changed, his fingers thrusting harder and faster inside her, his tongue flickering back and forth so rapidly he seemed to be lapping everywhere at once. Buffy felt balanced on the crest of a wave, no, a tsunami, being swept helplessly towards the shore. Then Angel crooked his fingers, the tips brushing against something deep inside her, and the world seemed to explode around her.
When she came back to herself, Angel had withdrawn his fingers, but was still lapping at her gently, soothing her through the aftershocks of the most intense climax she’d even experienced. Her legs were weak and shaky, as limp as cooked noodles, and she felt like all her bones had melted, but at the same time she was floating on a cloud of endorphins. She would have liked the stay that way forever, but now the edge of the tomb was digging painfully into her butt. She tugged gently at Angel’s hair, and he lifted his head, his face smeared with her juices, his eyes wide, dark pools in the fitful moonlight.
“Buffy? You okay?”
“Better than okay.” Buffy was dimly aware of her own giddy grin as she replied. “WAY better. I had no idea…” She trailed off, shaking her head, and stifling a giggle. “Your face… You’re all sticky now.”
“I know.” He wiped his hand on the leg of his pants, then used his sleeve to clean the lower half of his face, gazing up at her with hooded eyes. “You’re beautiful.”
Buffy blushed, suddenly aware of her dishevelled clothing. Quickly she adjusted her panties and straightened her shirt. It was a bit creased, but hopefully that wouldn’t be too noticeable. Her gaze dropped from Angel’s face to the bulge in his pants.
“You’re still…” She bit her lip. “Do you, uh, need a hand with that?” She’d never really touched him there, not intentionally, but after what he’d done for her, it seemed only fair to reciprocate.
Angel’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. “No, I’m fine, leave that for another time. I can wait.”
It was kind of a relief, but not because she didn’t want to please him. She just wasn’t sure she could handle another sensory overload like the one she’d just experienced, not right now when she still felt giddy and as if her legs didn’t belong to her.
“Thank you.” She half stepped, half slid off the ledge and sank onto the cool grass, glad to be off her feet while she got her breath and her bones back.
Angel leaned towards her, tilting her head back to kiss her, softly and tenderly. She could taste herself on his lips and it was… weird, but not unpleasant. “I wanted to please you, to make you feel good.”
“You did, you have. I never imagined anything could feel so… Is it always like that?”
“Sometimes, it’s even better.”
“Better? Wow.”
They stayed seated on the grass for a few more minutes, then Buffy stirred. “I should get back to patrolling. If my legs will work.”
Chuckling, Angel got up, offering her his hand, which she accepted, allowing him to help her up. Her legs still felt a bit shaky, but they didn’t give way beneath her, so she’d probably be fine.
The moon, half-full, came out from behind a cloud, gilding the tombs, gravestones, and mausoleums, the grass and the trees. Buffy kept hold of Angel’s hand, unwilling to break the connection between them. Everything had changed, she felt energised, her whole body tingling, as if she was poised on the brink of becoming someone different, a whole new version of herself. Someday soon, she would give herself to Angel completely, and after that… Well, they’d just have to wait and see.
The End