Synopsis: A potential scene from "Beauty and the Beast" (or whatever the name of that ep is)...where Angel realizes whom he's attacking, and what he wants to do with her once he gets her pinned to the ground...
Disclaimer: Buffy and Angel do not belong to me, because I like to think that I am marginally less evil than Joss Whedon.
Content: Buffy/Angel smut. Kind of rough, kind of animalistic...'cause, after all, all men are beasts. <EG>
Notes: Dedicated to Paul, Sandra and Lynn, and the rest of my listbabies on impure-l for badgering me to write this.
Stealthily, the Beast ran through the night on silent feet, tracking a rabbit. His thoughts were simple, uncomplicated, given completely over to the hunt. He was so involved in his chase that he didn't scent Her until he was nearly on top of Her.
The Beast slammed into Her, knocking Her off balance. She came up fighting, and he responded in kind, his brain singing at the physical challenge, the sheer joy of pitting like strength against like strength. As She sailed through the air, Her scent washed over him, and every hair on the Beast's neck stood straight up.
It was Her!
That scent was forever locked in his mind. He could not remember his own name, but he would know *Her* if he was blind and deaf. He had held on to Her when he had lost everything else, including himself. She was his mate, and She was here, at long last. He had been searching for Her for as long as he could remember, and now She was panting beneath him.
He held Her pinned face down as he snuffled the hair at Her nape, imbibing the gloriousness, the deliciousness of Her smell. Overcome, he began to lick the side of Her neck, tasting Her skin.
It had been eons, and he had ached for Her for so very long ...
Buffy laid there, frozen to the spot by the shock coursing through her soul. //He's back -- but he's not him -- he's an animal --//
Disjointed thoughts ran through her brain as Angel's tongue darted out to caress her skin. //He's LICKING me?!? But it's been so long...// She tried to shake herself out of her stupor.
"Angel," she said as she attempted to push off of the ground with her arms, "Angel, get off of me...Angel, do you even understand me?"
He snarled lightly in her ear as he pressed a suddenly rock hard cock into the softness of her ass. Buffy gasped as her hips surged up in a completely involuntary movement, thrusting against him.
Angel grunted and rocked back against her, craving the friction she could provide. Desperate, Buffy tried to crawl forward, away from him, but he shifted his grasp and clamped her securely to him.
"Angel, please," she cried out, unsure if she meant 'please, let me go', or 'please don't stop'.
He growled a warning, and his teeth closed gently but firmly on the nape of her neck, holding her in place. The instant she felt that masterful touch, all the fight went out of her. Her inner core flooded with moisture. She was suddenly running on instinct, and the primitive need to be claimed by her mate. Her head hung down as she knelt, supported by her knees and palms, her back arching towards him, silently granting permission for whatever he wished to do.
Freeing one hand, he ripped at her leggings, tearing both the resilient lycra and the soft cotton beneath. He yanked the offending garments from her, exposing her already dripping wet sex to the cool night air. Buffy shivered, both from the cold and from the sudden desire that was running hot through her. He blanketed her, his muscled chest against her back.
And then his fingers were in that moist heat, stretching the delicate walls, forcing her to accept him. Those stroking fingers were soon replaced with his cock as he grasped her hips and slammed into her.
She screamed, the pleasure a shock to her system after all that time. "ANGEL!" Clutching the ground, she braced herself as he began to fuck her, driving in and out of her in deep, irregular thrusts.
He was snarling continuously, all the while keeping his mouth clamped on the back of her neck, dominating her. Buffy was mindless, held in place by a force greater than her own will. All she could feel was him, deep inside of her, where only he'd been, where only he belonged. She arched and twisted against him, forcing him farther into her aching emptiness.
Angel obliged, using his grip on her hips to yank her onto him, goring her furiously, his lust enveloping him in a red haze. He slid in and out of her slick core, the wetness drenching him only serving to enhance his pleasure. Buffy whimpered as the fire between her thighs built, threatening to consume her. All that mattered was his cock rutting in her heat. He was inside her, and the rest of the world could all go to Hell.
Abruptly, his muscles corded, heralding the beginning of his climax. He gripped her more firmly, and when he thrust for the last time, they both moaned in unison, he from the release sweeping over him, and she from the pleasure/pain of his bite as he found the side of her neck, tearing through the delicate flesh to gorge himself on the blood lurking beneath.
The violence of the bite sent her over the edge, her sex clasping him desperately as the orgasm ripped through her. Shuddering, she whimpered his name, all her strength draining away as he nursed on her blood. He withdrew just as her arms gave out, sending them both crashing into the ground.
Alarmed, he nudged Her, only to notice the even rise and fall of Her chest. He licked Her cheek, tasting the sweat that had risen on Her fair skin, and nudged Her again.
Buffy opened her eyes and saw Angel's human countenance staring worriedly down at her. She smiled up at him, then closed her eyes once more, descending into sleep.
Satisfied that She had come to no harm, the Beast licked the wounds on Her neck possessively, pleased that She now bore his mark, and curled himself around Her, protecting Her from all others.
And so entwined, the Slayer and her mate slept.