© 1999
Author: Sare Liz Gordy
e-mail: TeknoVamp@yahoo.com
Note: Lex, this one is dedicated to you, and your Revisionist History series. Here's my crack at a little bit of history, revisionist-style. Hope I lived up to the standard.
Episode Timeline: All Men Are Beasts. That last little fighting scene? Buffy. Angel. Cargo pants without benefit of a shirt. Sweat. Blood. Tears. Manacles. Chains. Sexual Tension. Joss set it up quite yummily, and I like to think that I finished it off.
Disclaimers: Do you really think Joss would have ended it with them [ready Rachel?] dropping to the floor and fucking like bunnies? ::sigh:: Well, yes, we can all dream. But no. This is not a descriptive transcript past the first page or so. So hey. Belong to Joss. And Kuzui. And the always adorable and usually in need of a hug Mutant Enemy. Me? Nothing belongs to me. Cept in this little case, Buffy and Angel fucking like bunnies. I'll take credit for that any day.
Additional Note: Hey. Yea, you. You got the X-Files movie soundtrack? Thought so. Go pop in Noel G.'s Teotihuacan, Track 13. Yea, the one without words. Now read.
Buffy had just finished watching the most incredible thing in her life.
At first she'd thought that this whacked-out psycho had knocked her around one too many times, but no. Flung to the ground and panting, she listened as Pete's strange but still very human snarling came closer until it was drowned out by another sound. Growling ñ darker and deeper - the familiar sound of a pissed off vampire preparing to make a kill, her mind told her. She looked up instantly, wondering what vampire would venture out so early, just minutes after sundown, and why they would be here. Buffy looked up, and her heart stopped.
Angel.
She didn't have time to wonder if he was still a beast, but he was gorgeous, angry and in game face. Two out of three things he most emphatically _hadn't been_ the other times she'd seen him. When his mind had been gone.
She didn't have time to think about any how's or why's -- she was in too much of a state of shock at seeing him. And the moment Pete threatened her again, her preternatural guardian pounced, beating her attacker senseless with his chains, thrashing him over and over again.
Yet still the misguided teenager fought. Thrusting her Angel back against a table, she saw her once lover backpedal, his hips catching the edge of the table, his torso shoved low across the surface. His face seemed darker than usual, and as she watched his chest heave with an unneeded breath, his low, feral growl seemed to shimmy down her spine with a direct line to her clenching womb. She became wet, as she did every time she heard him growling, and something inside of her realized that this attack wasn't something random for him. He was fighting for her. Protecting her. Her, his mate. And he wasn't fighting as a beast would. Even in his frenzy he was using the skill he'd exhibited when they'd hunted together before.
Buffy looked on in fascination at the rippling muscles in his arms and back as he flipped her attacker over and behind him, rounding to beat him a different way. She didn't utter a single protest as she watched him - intent on his opponent in a killing rage. He was brutally elegant in a way she knew she'd never find an equal to. He was beautiful, intelligent, elegant, and if she wasn't very much mistaken, still desperately in love with her.
In that moment, Buffy knew she had to break it off with Scott. It wasn't that she didn't like the boy, and it wasn't that she necessarily thought things would ever work out with Angel. But she still had all the same warm fuzzy feelings for the vampire, and she had to deal with them somehow. In the meantime, it just wasn't fair to Scott. He was too nice for her to lead on and to be truthful, Buffy thought he was terribly sweet, but there just wasn't anything there for her. Too soon. Too many issues.
Too many issues. That's what she thought as she watched Angel throttle the life out of Pete, as she saw the lifeless body drop to the floor with her lover standing silently over it, looking up at her for the first time, and for the first time... faltering. As he slowly came to her, his chains rattling slightly with his movements, she was unable to read his soft gameface, but he looked so very young and vulnerable.
The heat of the battle gone, the face slipped away, revealing more raw pain than she could bear. She held her ground as he came right up to her. He was so close, she could feel his body radiate not heat, but some sort of energy she'd always been attuned to.
He was trying to say something, but couldn't seem to get it out. He'd been so sure before, but now... Now, he looked like he was going to weep. He was so beautiful, and in such exquisite pain. Part of her wanted to take him in her arms and hold on to him until the end of the world, but another part was so confused it hurt.
Finally, he said what he'd been trying to. Buffy's heart swelled and shredded as he breathed her name. She wasn't prepared for the strength of his grip on her arms, but she was even less prepared for him to fall to his knees, his unnecessary breaths coming in hitching intervals between the tears he cried into her stomach, all the while pressing the kneeling length of himself to her frozen form.
He said her name again, and her heart simply broke. Part of her didn't understand what was going on. Part of her wanted to kiss him, sooth him, wash away the hurt. Hearing his pain, knowing he was back for good, knowing she loved him more than anything else ñ more than friendship, more than duty, more than her own life, she began to cry her own tears, looking up, searching for answers.
Finding none, she settled for instinct.
Squeezing her eyes shut, willing for a moment her tears away, she tried to gently extract her arms from his strong grip. It took several moments for her actions to sink into his mind, but once he was aware of her apparent intentions, he released her immediately, at once drawing away from her, his head bowed and turned away in shame. She quickly realized her mistake and softly called his name. Reluctantly, he raised his head, unmindful of the pinkish red streaks down his face, the trail his tears had made since he'd taken his face from her body. Sinking to her knees, Buffy cupped his face with both of her small hands, silently brushing away a newly fallen tear with her thumb.
"I love you," she said, her own tears spilling over again. "I'm sorry -- I'm so sorry," the Slayer said, voice cracking.
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in slightly, against his upright form. She quickly threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his bare shoulder, sobs wracking her little frame. She could feel his cool lips resting against her neck, brushing across her skin lightly. The sensation shot directly to her core. She'd missed him for so long and her dreams had been so vivid... She moaned slightly, spreading her fingers to encompass more of his bare shoulders and back, unknowingly thrusting her hips into his.
His soft rumbling purr melted her completely, and as she shifted, aligning their bodies more perfectly, she felt his erection through the cargo pants she had found for him the night before. "Buffy," he moaned into her neck, still holding her tightly. "Oh, God, Buffy..."
He started to speak, but she couldn't hear it, not right now. Now, she needed to hold him, be with him before the rest of the world found out. She needed to take just this moment for themselves and their love.
"Shhh...." Buffy said, pulling back only as far as she needed to look into his eyes. All the pain from earlier was there, but there was something else. Had her acceptance of him meant that much? The love in his eyes was warring with the pain, and eventually she knew that the pain would win. But Buffy would do all that she could to make sure love won out, for at least today.
She kissed his tears, his cheekbones, his jaw, his forehead, his closed eyes, everywhere on his face that she could get to. He just knelt there in her arms, trembling beneath her touch. His tears had finally stopped, and Buffy couldn't seem to get her errant mind off of his incredibly huge cock that was held so close to her body. She knew that she shouldn't be thinking about sex at a time like this, but she also knew that he couldn't lose his soul again -- Willow had pointed that out before they'd shown the spell to Giles and the others.
No, he was in so much pain right now, Buffy couldn't believe she was even thinking about it: his cool, naked body against her warm, slighter one, his hands trailing down her sides, caressing her so sweetly, just like before. His mouth at her breast, lightly teasing her hardened little nubs, suckling on them. She could almost feel him pull on them with his teeth, then sooth them with his tongue, laving over the entire area. At the same time she could feel her core dripping wetness at the thought of Angel's cold, hard cock and what it could do to her. She wanted him so badly, and with a ferocity she hadn't known with him before. The one time, he'd been so gentle with her, filling her completely, sliding in and out of her tight, slick place. She had adored it, and adored him, though apparently slow and gentle was not what did it for him. But she could learn, and she would. She almost wanted to cry at the thought of it.
She would do anything to make him happy. Buffy loved him so much, and she wanted him to _want_ to make love to her. She knew he probably didn't particularly want to now, not after last time, not after the kind of lover she'd exhibited herself as, but perhaps...
Soft tentative lips, cool as death, hesitantly touched her own. Buffy was shocked out of her musings and jerked slightly, unwittingly sending him away.
"Angel, please," Buffy said, catching his eye again. Hope, confusion, love, pain -- it was all there. She ran her hands over his torso, tracing for a moment the strongly defined lines of his upper chest. Her fingers ended up threading their way through his hair, and for the first time she noticed the faint smell of sulfur that was on his skin.
Uncaring, she touched her lips to his, kissing him gently, kissing him for the first time in four months, the first time since she'd sent him to hell.
The kiss was soft until its end, but the ones to follow were progressively more intimate, until at last, Buffy's tongue was tracing over Angel's, and he was sucking deeply on hers, always beckoning it in just a little further. She could feel his hands shift over her back, one to her shoulders, one just under her ass. Her arms clenched tightly around his neck as he lifted her slightly, adjusting her position until she was lying on the floor with him kneeling over her. His hand trailed over her body, caressing her though her clothes.
One hand wound in her hair, pillowing her head from the hard concrete floor as his lips sought out hers once again. Buffy couldn't hold back the moan from escaping her, though it only got as far as the inside of Angel's mouth. His other hand had slipped around from behind her, gently caressing the curve of her hip, slowly moving up her body. His fingers roved over her lean stomach, flooding her core with warmth that threatened to undo her completely. With just his touch, his lips, Buffy found herself writhing, trying to pull him lower on her but not really succeeding. Instead she lay there as his hand found the outside curve of her breast, overcome with feelings and emotions so deep and true that she never thought she'd experience such again in her short life. Her young hips thrust upwards to the lover that wasn't there, her fingers kneading the cold steel muscles beneath her fingertips, and she moaned plaintively into him just before his tongue slipped slowly out from under hers, licking her bottom lip tenderly, catching it in his teeth and sucking on it slightly, his hand finally cupping her entire breast, and simply holding there, watching her eyes.
"Angel, please," she murmured, arching into his hands. "Please, touch me."
He closed his eyes and tilted his head back slightly, his lips barely parted as he drew in a ragged breath and brushed his thumb over her aching bud, making her cry out at the sensations evoked.
Angel stopped before he went further, looking back down, and waiting until she opened her eyes and sensed the misery and apprehension within him. Once her eyes locked with his, he hesitantly spoke her name.
"Buffy... I-I-I-I just... W-w-well, you're... you're safe now. I-I just -- I'm sorry. I'll go."
He'd only just begun to pull away before Buffy launched herself up and into his arms. She held him in a death grip as she sobbed into his cool neck, curling herself on to his lap as he sat back on his heels.
"Please, Angel, please don't leave me," Buffy strangled out in between hysterical sobs. She could feel his arms around her, one supporting her back, the other along her legs, and it did wonders to calm her. Still weeping, though more silently now, the Slayer whispered out, "Please don't leave me again."
"I won't go anywhere, Buffy," her dark Angel whispered into her hair. "Nowhere unless you tell me to."
The Chosen One could feel her lover rocking her gently back and forth, soothing her, lulling her into calm silence before he continued.
"But we can't... I mean," he faltered, looking down into her upturned face, his eyes brimming with affection. "I love you so much, Buffy," her once tormenter breathed out. "But we can't. Not unless we find if there is some permanent way..." Angel trailed off, and Buffy could see his heart breaking for the love he has, and yet cannot have.
"Angel," Buffy spoke quickly, desperate to erase his fears. "It _is_ permanent. This time, it _is_."
She could see his shock and wariness as it passed over the fear in him. "Wha- but, h-how... How do you know?"
She would give anything to see the love and happiness and hope in his eyes again. "Willow. Willow and I found the curse. She's the one who performed it."
He seemed afraid to believe, but the truth was lying in his arms, nuzzling against his neck. "Are you sure?" His voice was barely a trembling whisper.
"Absolutely sure."
Angel attacked her mouth like a starving man, drinking her down into him, crushing her body to his. When she broke off for air, he pulled her shirt off, barely keeping it intact. In between the tiny kisses and licks and bites he was raining on her neck and shoulders, he whispered her name.
"Oh, baby..." His fingers were fumbling at her pants, but she helped the process along and was quickly rid of all her clothes.
Angel tried to continue kissing her body, but she would have none of it. Her fingers ranged lightly over his muscular shoulders, exploring the flawless expanse of flesh. If he'd been tortured, he only bore the scars in his mind. His body was as perfect as ever, if slightly dirty. Buffy had thought that sort of thing might turn her off, but Angel wore the dirt and the blood as a sort of medal of honor, won in the fight for his lady. And he was gorgeous.
Her lips brushed over his skin, testing the texture. Her tongue darted out at his nipples and elicited a gasp that ended in a low growl which itself didn't seem to end. Given the confidence boost she needed, Buffy's fingers trailed lower over his flat, pale stomach, past the waistband of his pants, to cup the large bulge the cargoes incased.
His growl sharpened and his body twitched as her hands came into contact with him, but she continued to take in his shape, stroking his hardness through the material. She could feel his hands on her back, her shoulders, in her hair. He couldn't get enough of her, couldn't keep his hands still.
She understood.
Having had quite enough of the preliminary, Buffy unfastened Angel's pants and peeled them off his hips slightly. Her breath caught at the sight of him and a wave of lust surged through her. She looked up into his eyes and smiled, stroking his velvety length until Angel's growl downsized to a whimper.
He was still on his knees, sitting back on his heels, and had no where to run when Buffy straddled him, taking a moment to position his weeping tip just outside of her before sinking down slowly, letting herself adjust to his considerable size, allowing them both to revel in the complete feeling each had achieved, together.
After a moment of complete and utter contentment, Angel hugged her a bit closer and nuzzled the hair away from her ear. "It's been so long," he whispered, "you feel so good..." Her lover traced down, then up her neck again before continuing. "Ride me, Buffy." His voice was a husky whisper, nearly a growl, that went straight to her core and made her clench involuntarily. "Ride me hard."
With his words, Buffy felt absolutely drunk on pleasure. She began to move on him slowly enough, but soon she was rolling her hips into his thrusts, amazed at how deep he was, at how consumed and filled she felt, even as she thrust back on to him harder, regaining what she'd lost when they'd pulled away.
His hands were holding her hips, pulling her down on him, assuring their perfect rhythm until one particularly deep thrust she held herself close to him, her back arching, her head thrown back. Taking full advantage of the situation, Angel ducked down and took one of her breasts in his mouth, quickly laving the nipple before suckling strongly on it, milking her pleasure as he throbbed inside of her in time to his tongue.
Buffy didn't even hear herself scream.
She came around her lover, holding on for dear life with her thighs as her body shook and her inner walls spasmed. She came keening his name as he continued thrusting into her, relinquishing her nipple only to take up the other one.
Finally spent, she collapsed in his arms, resting her head on his shoulder. Angel gave her a moment before he began again, slowly at first to once again arouse her desires. Moments later, she took the initiative, thrusting madly on him, bringing his pleasure to him on a silver platter.
When the growling started, her thighs flooded with moisture and she knew he was close. The Slayer began to ride him harder, her thrusts deeper, sharper. Hearing a snarl, she opened her eyes to his golden ones. Knowing what he wanted, but not being able to resist temptation, she kissed him, her tongue darting deeply between his fangs, searching out his one cool one which was always a bit more supple when he was in gameface.
When Angel's snarling had taken on pitiful tones, Buffy had mercy, granting him his long awaited release. Presenting her neck, she gave him a sidelong glance. "Drink, lover."
She stiffened as she felt him gently tear open the crook between her neck and shoulder, but relaxed when she felt his tongue sooth over the pain, teasing her ripped flesh. As her lover began to suck lightly, constantly working his tongue over her and his cock emptied its cool essence deep within her, Buffy felt herself tip over into a soft, gentle high, moaning his name, rocking back and forth on him as he continued to feed from her, only egged on by her hands holding him in place at her neck, her fingers sliding through the dark silky hair at the back of his neck.
When Angel finally pulled away from her, his lips red from the residue of her blood, she just held him. She rested her forehead against his, giving him shelter in her arms, in her body. They both stayed there for a long moment, relishing the nearness of each other as well as whatever it was about their relationship that was so completely right.
Eventually Buffy purred, breaking the silence. "I guess we should go now. I don't want to, though."
Angel's voice was a low rumble. "I don't want you to."
"Mmm... But we have to go tell the guys you're back. It would be a very bad thing if they found out on their own, I think."
"Are you sure?" he said, troubled eyes looking into her own.
"Angel," Buffy said, kissing his now clean lips lightly. "You're back. You're sane. You've got your soul, and you love me. I'm so sure, you'd be amazed at my assuredness."
He looked only mostly convinced. "You're okay with... this, then?"
She smiled, and said before snuggling into him one last time, "Baby, I'm five by five."
End
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