This story is rated NC-17. If you are not legally old enough to view this material (18, 19, or 21 depending upon where you are reading this), return to the Fanfiction Index page and select one of my G- or PG-rated stories.

RATING: NC-17 (sex, but not the rabid monkey kind)
TIMELINE/SPOILERS: Futurefic. Spoilers for season 6 (BtVS) and season 3 (AtS)
SUMMARY: Angry Vampire + Angry Slayer = ?
AUTHOR'S NOTES (1): Inspired by Enigma’s CD “lovesensualitydevotion”
AUTHOR'S NOTES (2): Those things in italics? That would be Angel’s thoughts.
DATE OF COMPLETION: 5 November 2002
DISTRIBUTION: Yseult's Passion (http://yseultspassion.com) and my permission.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Never will be mine.

Angel was furious. He knew he looked like one of those blue smurfs that Fred adored. He had been chasing some nameless okay it wasn’t nameless but Wesley had taken too damn long to get to the point demon through the city streets when it he? she? decided to turn right instead of left and suddenly became a hood ornament. Angel had barely had time to lose his vamp face before he plowed into said hood ornament. When he sat up and cleared the fuzziness from his head, he was covered in bright blue sticky demon blood.

He had slipped into the sewers to make his way back to the Hyperion. Because he was unfamiliar with this part of the city who knew sewer walls could all look the same, he had wandered around underground for an hour before giving up and returning to the streets. When he emerged from the manhole, he was outside a seedy bar. And he was still wearing bright blue blood. Except now it was enhanced by the sewer smell which permeated his clothing. Great. What the fuck else is gonna happen?

A man exited the bar and staggered slightly as he tried to light a cigarette with wavering hands. He was oblivious to Angel’s presence until he fell at the vampire’s feet and threw up on his shoes. This night just keeps getting better.

His right coat pocket began to ring. The drunk, now on his hands and knees, lifted his head and stated rather obviously, “Mister, yer phone’s ringin’.” Angel glared down at the human specimen before him. Then he stepped back and slid his hand into the pocket. When he pulled out his cell phone, he grimaced at it distastefully. It too was covered in blue goo. He flipped the lid open and growled “WHAT?” in exasperation.

“Hey, you! Whatcha doin’?” The bright and chirpy voice breezed through the receiver. “You out chasin’ a Big Bad again? Cuz, ya know, you’re gettin’ kinda old to be doin’ that.” The voice erupted into a girlish giggle.

Angel rolled his eyes heavenward and sighed. Buffy. The whole reason he’d volunteered to hunt and kill this frigging blue-blooded monstrosity was to take his mind off Buffy whom he hadn’t seen in three frustrating weeks. Just the sound of her voice made his cock swell in want or is it need?

“Angel? You there?”

Oh, I’m here all right. I am so here I could scream. He heard a thump and another giggle.

“Whoops, sorry. Dropped the phone. So, what are you doing? Am I interrupting something important? Is this a bad time? Cuz I can hang up. No big.” Her voice trailed away. No, don’t hang up. I could get off just listening to your sweet voice. Hell, I have. Every night. For the last three weeks.

“Angel, are you gonna talk to me or what?” He grunted in reply.

“Angel, I don’t do Neanderthal.” Would you settle for doing me? He mumbled an apology.

“Tell me what happened. And no growling.” So he told her about the demon and the crash and the blue blood and the sewers and the drunk and the mess.

In a solemn voice she pronounced, “Man, your dry cleaning bill’s gonna bankrupt you. That demony stuff never comes out.” There was a lengthy pause, and she added temptingly, “Wanna know what I’m wearing?”

“What?” The question was out of his mouth before his brain could telegraph the words don’t go there to his undead body.

“Nothing.” Fuck.

“Oh, wait. I lied. I’m wearing nothing and my pussy is wet because I’m thinking about your incredible tongue licking and sucking and oooooooooo, I want you, Angel,” she panted. FUCK. FuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK. Angel’s pants were suddenly too tight.

“Where are you?” He snarled the question through his fangs.

Yet another giggle. “You’re growling again.”

FUCK. This woman is going to kill me. He asked the question again in a strained voice.

“You know where.” Click. The call was disconnected.

Angel howled and threw the phone at the wall where it shattered and tumbled to the pavement. This particular game had started six weeks after he had stormed into Sunnydale and kicked in the front door of the Summers’ house. Buffy and Willow had been vegging in the living room watching chick flicks on Buffy’s new DVD player, courtesy of Xander. They had stared in amazement as the door had sailed past the stairway and into the kitchen. The front door had been followed by a bloody and beaten vampire who was apparently dropkicked into the house. Bringing up the rear was the Scourge of Europe who stalked in and stood glowering in the living room.

Willow immediately skipped to panic-mode but had the presence of mind to grab the stake, cross, and holy water that were always stored under the couch for emergencies like this. Buffy, on the other hand, had calmly looked at her ex-lover and then turned to Willow and said pointedly, “Will, I thought you were gonna modify that protection spell to include all ex-boyfriends living, dead, and undead.”

The redhead looked at the terrifying vampire and ventured a question. “Did you kill Spike?”

Angel shook his head. “No. Not done with him yet either.”

She made a hasty decision. “How ‘bout I take him off your hands and you and Buffy can just, you know, talk about whatever’s bothering you. Kay?” She didn’t wait for an answer. She pulled a coat over her pajamas, grabbed one of Spike’s arms, and began to drag the moaning vampire towards the back door. There was a sickening thud as Spike’s head bumped the stairs on the deck.

“Buffy,” called Willow breathlessly from the back door, “we’ll be at Xander’s if you need anything.”

“Drinking lots and lots of alcohol,” groaned Spike. There was a loud smack followed by “Ow, Red, why’d you do that?”

Inside the Summers’ house, Buffy rose from the couch and regarded Angel. “Well, since you broke the door, you get to fix it. Some of Xander’s tools are in the basement.” With that, she walked around Angel and turned the porch light off.

It was not the smartest decision she made that night. Angel grabbed her by both arms and yelled at full vampire volume in her face. Except for that one time in LA when she had found him with Faith, he had never raised his voice to her. He had too much respect for her. But what she had done with Spike had driven him as close to madness as those many years in Hell had. He had taken out some of his anger and pain on Spike, but it hadn’t filled the void in his heart. Angel was ready to beat some sense into the Slayer if he had to.

Angel assumed that she would fight back or argue with him. Instead, she stood there and resolutely took everything he threw at her. He delivered his monologue in vamp face spitting the words and emotions at her. When he was done, he released her and stepped out of her personal space. Buffy reached out with one hand and silently caressed his cheek. Then she backhanded him so hard, she nearly broke his jaw.

“My turn,” she said and began a tongue-lashing so severe she could have given lessons in verbal abuse. He had to give her credit, she gave as good as she got and then some. She knew about Darla and Connor. She even knew about his sort-of feelings for Cordelia, which she dismissed with, “What’s up with that? Are you mental?” She berated him until she was hoarse. Then she yelled at him some more. Finally she was silent.

Angel was ashamed. He had rushed to Sunnydale to see her because it’s my right? she’s my mate? choosing to be with Spike wasn’t why he had left her. He had never considered that she would know about his life in LA. This was not the same girl crying for her mother in a cemetery. This was a woman with womanly needs and what the hell kind of pajamas is she wearing?

“Buffy, I’m sorry. About everything.” And he was truly sorry. He even looked sorry standing in her living room with his head bowed and his hands stuffed in his pockets. But she wasn’t done yet.

“If you’re so goddamn sorry, fix my door. I’m not going to sleep when any idiot can walk in my house. Wait. My bad. Any idiot already has.” She whirled away from him and stomped up the stairs to her room. She knew exactly when he’d gone from furious to aroused. That knowledge had almost undone her.

It had taken him 20 minutes to jury rig the door into place. It would’ve taken him 10 if he had focused on the task instead of thinking about Buffy in her sexy teddy with matching thong panties. Why would she wear those pajamas to watch movies with Willow? She’s not…well, Willow is …but Buffy isn’t…I’d know if Buffy was swinging the other way. Would he? This whole business with Spike had proven once again how much he didn’t know her anymore.

He reluctantly climbed the stairs to her room. I’m just gonna tell her the door’s fixed, and then I’m gonna leave. I’m not gonna ogle. I’m not even gonna drool. She’s not mine anymore. Her door was closed. He knocked gently and heard her deep sigh. “You can come in, Angel.” Can I just come?

She was sitting on her bed filing her nails. She ignored him as he stood just inside the doorway. “Angel, I don’t bite.” Yeah, but I do, and you look good enough to eat.

“What? Are you just gonna stare at me for the rest of the night?” She sounded vexed. She is never gonna forgive me. He walked into her room and sat on the bed close enough for her to “accidentally” brush his body with hers if she wants to because God knows I’d take her right here if I could.

“Buffy,” he began. “I really am sorry. I had no right to treat you like that. It’s your choice who you want to be with. I don’t think it’s a smart choice, but it is yours.”

“Wow. That’s a new concept for you, isn’t it? 'Buffy should make her own choices.'” The sarcasm tore through his heart. “Well,” she continued smoothly, “here’s a choice for you.” With that, she grinned wickedly as she undid the lace ties on the front of her teddy. Her tanned succulent breasts were exposed to his starving eyes. “What do you choose, Angel?”
He groaned from somewhere deep in his toes and shoved his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t touch her. She sat up on her knees and leaned towards him. She slid one hand over her left breast, pulled on the erect pink nipple, and moaned his name. Where the hell did she learn to do that? He could not tear his eyes away as she pushed the other hand under the waistband of her thong. Through the fabric he could see her slip a finger maybe two? inside herself. She moaned again, deeper this time, and withdrew her hand. She used that same hand to stroke his cheek until her fingers stopped on his lips.

“What do you choose, Angel?” she repeated huskily.

“I … we … Buffy… I still can’t.” He mumbled the words even as his hands left his pockets and touched the edges of her teddy.

“You still can’t what, Angel? Can’t choose? That’s too bad.” And she licked clean the finger that had been buried in her pussy. “Guess that means you don’t want any of this.” She shrugged out of the teddy and leaned back on the bed to give him a better view of her firm breasts.
“Buffy, please.” Angel begged for mercy? for her body? even as he removed his coat and pushed off his shoes.

“Please, what, Angel? Please, can you touch me?” More like please can I have you. “Because you can, you know. Willow superglued your soul when she re-cursed you.” She leisurely unbuttoned his shirt and ran her fingers over his cool skin. Whoa. What?

“Willow what my what?” He couldn’t think coherently with a half-naked Buffy in front of him. His hands wandered over her warm taut abdomen and up to cup her full breasts. They were just as heavy as he remembered from that one day and one night. Wonder if they taste the same. His tongue licked one dainty nipple. Oh yeah. Even better.

“There’s no clause,” she whispered as she blazed a trail of kisses from his collarbone to the waist of his restrictive pants. “I’ll explain later.” Works for me.

He gently pushed her back on the bed and lifted her hips so he could sweep her panties down her toned thighs, past her scraped knees tonight’s patrol?, over her slender calves, and off her feet. She lay completely bare on her coverlet. Her honey blonde hair was curled around her face and draped over her shoulders. Her eyes mirrored the love and lust he felt in his heart. He place a hand on each foot and with his thumbs he slowly massaged her insteps. She purred.

He stood and unhooked his belt. His pants pooled around his feet and he gracefully stepped out of them. Angel held Buffy’s gaze as he slid his boxers to the floor. He took another step, and he was at her bedside again.

“What do you choose?” he asked hoarsely, his need for her so great it threatened to drown him. “Tell me what you want.”

His Slayer touched the scar at her neck. “You. Only you.” She spoke clearly so he would not misunderstand the depth of her feelings for him. “Always. Forever,” she continued. “It has only ever been you.”

Mine. She is still mine. Her declaration unleashed the barely checked passion straining under his skin. He captured her lips in his and swallowed them in a kiss that curled her toes and smothered her breath. The bed became a nest of writhing limbs as the kiss deepened even further. If he died tomorrow, he wanted her to know how much he loved her, how much he had missed her, how much he needed her. He released her swollen lips and moved his mouth over her face kissing her hazel eyes, her petite nose, her ticklish ears. His mouth skimmed down the column of her neck and rested on his mark. Mine. She is still mine. He kissed the scar tenderly, tasting and sucking at it until her body bucked wildly in anticipation.
Angel’s hands followed the curves of her body. He had dreamed this for so long, it was impossible not to think he was still dreaming now. “Touch me, Angel.” Wherever, whenever, and as often as possible, my love. His tongue nibbled the soft underside of her breasts as his fingers rolled and tweaked each nipple. She moaned as she orgasmed under his skilled touch. When he sucked one sensitized bud into his mouth, she came a second time. He was reaching for the other nipple when she violently shoved his head towards the intimate space between her thighs. “Kiss me there, Angel.” She has grown up. The first time I did that she was redder than the bed sheets. He smiled at the memory and happily obeyed her commandment.

Before Angel spread her lips with his fingers, he could smell her arousal. It had already seeped into the bedclothes where the heat of her body strengthened the aroma. For Angel it was the Buffy version of ambrosia. He paused with his face buried deep in her pussy and breathed in essence of Buffy. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how to do this,” she inquired lazily. I didn’t forget. I could never forget this unique smell. Instead of answering her, he playfully licked at her swollen clit with his tongue. Buffy moaned again and wrapped her fingers through his surprisingly gel-free hair.

He licked her from bottom to top, first the large outer lips, then the smaller more sensitive inner lips. He sucked every moist drop of her juices that he could find and teased her clit just to the peak of her next orgasm. Then he stopped and placed in his chin on her pubic bone. “What do you choose?” he asked and flashed his quirky half-smile. She looked radiant. Her skin was flushed with sexual excitement. Her pupils were enlarged; her heart beat rapidly. He could almost see the heat rising from her skin. Her face, though, was not happy. “I choose to dust you if you do that again.” Buffy may have been caught up in the ecstasy of lovemaking, but there was no mistaking the death threat.

Angel grinned at her anyway. His head was between her legs, his fingers were massaging and stimulating her even as he looked at her. There was no way she was going to dust him. Better to be safe, though. He dipped his head to suck at her clit and she spiraled into her third orgasm screaming his name with what was left of her voice. He licked her one last time and then crushed her body beneath his as he lay the length of her. “Am I too heavy?” he asked. He had developed more muscle since the last time they had made love.

“Ask me again when I land,” Buffy murmured as she wrapped her hands around his neck and tasted herself in his mouth. The heat of her tongue was incredible. He could feel the coldness in his core begin to thaw and melt.

“I want to taste you,” she said shyly. Why so hesitant, love? Do you think I’ll say no? He rolled onto his back and propped the pillows beneath his head. Her hair tickled him as she kissed a straight line from his navel to his groin. Her hands rifled through the wiry hair nested between his legs. Her fingers massaged his sacs as she looked in wide-eyed wonder at his large stiff cock. “I didn’t know you were, uh, this well-endowed.” Angel tilted her head so he could see her face. He was searching for fear or hesitation or any sign that she perhaps did not want to do what she had proposed. “Buffy, you don’t have to,” he said gently.

“I know,” she said, “and I do want to. It’s just…” She looked everywhere but at him. “Just what, Buffy?” Did you have a bad experience? Did someone force you?

“It’s just, that night, the night of my birthday, I never saw you, and so I didn’t, that is, I couldn’t, well, Ineverknewwhatyoulookedlike.” The last few words were spoken so quickly, Angel had to repeat them in his mind so he could separate them. You never knew what I looked like? All the things I took from you that night…this was one more. He turned her face back to his. The tears were gathering behind her eyes. If she blinked, they would fall. He sat up and kissed the tip of her nose. “Well,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon, so take as much time as you need,” and he leered at her.

It earned him a giggle and a soft push back onto the mattress. “You’re not that big,” she groaned. “I think I can get find my way around. Everything looks pretty standard to me.” Standard? I’m standard? A minute ago she said I was well-endowed.

Her hot tongue gently licked the precum from the tip of his cock. Her hand pushed his foreskin down as her mouth engulfed the head and then the shaft. He must have spoken her name because she stopped her rhythmic sucking and kissing to answer him. “Did you want something?” she asked coyly.

“You,” he choked out. “Want only you. Need only you.” She resumed her earlier actions, then stopped again. “Not yet,” she said. “I’m not done playing,” and she deepthroated him so swiftly that his head flew off the pillows. Her tongue, her teeth, her hands. She was quickly bringing him to a climax that he didn’t want yet.

“Buffy, stop, stop,” he pleaded. She ignored him. God in heaven, I’m going to cum in her mouth and I can’t stop it. His body churned in her hands as he shot his cold seed into her mouth. She swallowed it whole and smiled at him as she licked her lips. I can’t believe she just did that.

“You said something about stopping,” Buffy said innocently. She stretched out beside him on the bed. “Do you want to stop?” She batted her eyes at him. Oh, yeah? Two can play this game. Angel ran his fingers lightly down her body then plunged them deep inside her. She babbled like a baby. “Do you?” he asked as he stroked his fingers in and out of her and brought her again to the brink of orgasm.

“No, I don’t want to stop.” The tremble in her voice stopped him. “I don’t want to stop. I don’t want you to leave. I don’t want to love you. I don’t want to need you so much it hurts more everyday. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want any of those things. But what I want has never mattered.”

This time the tears spilled endlessly down her cheeks and onto his chest where they burned into his soul. Angel drew Buffy into his arms and held her as she sobbed. You had to ask, didn’t you? Eventually, she stopped crying and reached over him for the tissue sitting on her nightstand. Her breast hovered over his mouth. It was the most natural thing in the world for him to tease her nipple with his tongue. She swatted his arm. “I’m having a nervous breakdown, and all you can think about is sex. That is such a guy thing.” But she smiled as she said it, and the smile lit her eyes as well.

“Tell me what you want,” he said quietly, and his fingers traced an eyebrow.

“Make love to me, Angel. Remind me why this was once true happiness.”

He pulled her body to his and rolled her so she was beneath him. He balanced his weight on his hands and gently nudged her legs apart with one knee. His cock tapped at her entrance. Buffy bent her legs so that her knees were close to her shoulders. “Now, Angel, I want you now.”
Angel entered her hot passage and exhaled the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. She was not as tight as the last time, but she was tight enough. Slayer muscles were remarkable creations. He pushed his cock deep into her until he felt the tip of her womb and heard her soft “yessssss”. He pulled out and slid in again. In. Out. In. Out. Each entry and exit was slightly quicker, slightly harder until soon he was slamming into her with a force that would have shattered any normal woman’s pelvis. Through it all he lavished kisses on her face, neck, and breasts. As she reached her final orgasm, she pulled her hair to one side, and offered him her neck.

“No, Buffy.” I won’t. I can’t. He would not drink from her again. Even if it was one of the most powerful experiences in my life, I will not do it again.

“Did you mark me?” she hissed. We’re going to have this conversation now? “Did you mark me as your mate?”

He refused to take the bait. He had never told her the truth. Who had?

“Spike says this makes me your mate.” That was not the answer he wanted to hear.

It was Spike’s name that sent him over the edge. “Yes. You are my mate. Mine and no one else’s”. He unconsciously slipped into game face. She smoothed his facial ridges with her fingers.

“Prove it,” she whispered and deliberately cut her tongue on one of his fangs as she kissed him. The rush of sweet slayer blood into his mouth tipped the balance. As he poured his cold dead seed into her body for the third time that she could remember, he buried his fangs into her neck and sucked her life force. Buffy’s orgasm was as intense as she remembered at Graduation.

Angel howled in frustration as he realized what had happened. He lay spent on her body and mumbled “You are a wicked evil woman. But I love you.”

Buffy giggled. “I love you too.” She pulled the comforter over both of them and they fell asleep.

That had been nine weeks ago. Since then, Angel had tried to create a place for Buffy in his life. Trouble was, they could never set and keep a standing date time. As Buffy had so aptly put it, “Demons don’t exactly punch time clocks.” He and Buffy had settled for haphazard meetings in Sunnydale, LA, and anywhere in between. The last one had been three long weeks ago and had involved some light bondage. Since then, Buffy had discovered the joys of phone sex and was merciless in her torment of him.

He knew exactly where she was: her bedroom with the shades open so anyone who wanted could look in and see her incredible nude body. FUCK. He couldn’t stand it any longer. He had to see her.

Angel silently entered the Hyperion. He avoided the lobby and the questions his colleagues would inevitably ask. He opened his bedroom door, peeled off his filthy clothes, and stuffed them into a large black trash bag. He stepped thankfully into the shower and proceeded to wash away every bit of debris, dirt, and blue goo on his body. The bathroom door opened. Through the shower door he could vaguely see the shape of someone. Wesley? How’d he know I was back?

“I’ll be out in a minute,” he called out and ducked his head beneath the shower to rinse the shampoo out of his hair. He heard the glass door open and close.

“That’s too bad,” said a female voice as two hands encircled his waist and swept down to his stiffening cock. “I was hoping we could spend some quality time in here.” Buffy? How in hell did she..? When did she…?
He couldn’t form a complete sentence. Again. “Angel, you’re doing that Neanderthal thing.” That’s because your hands are wrapped around my cock and you’re stroking me like there’s no tomorrow and God if you keep that up I’m going to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked.

“Buffy. What are you doing here?” Not that I’m not glad to see you but woman you’re going to be the death of me yet especially if you keep that up.

“I missed you.” She whispered the words in a small voice against his back. Three little words that summed up the last five years. “I missed you, too,” he replied. “Let me show you how much.” He turned in her embrace, lifted her body, and slowly lowered her onto his erect cock. She wrapped her legs around his waist and reached back to grasp the towel rack. His mouth covered one of her breasts.

“I can hardly wait,” said Buffy as Angel began to move his body in a timeless rhythm of love.