TITLE: The First Taste
CONTENT: Buffy/Angel consensual sex, blood play
DISCLAIMER: I've been channeling Buffy again. Dangerous things happen when I channel Buffy. Buffy and Crew do not belong to me, they belong to Joss-God. He's mean to them, so I'm taking them away from him. He's getting a time out. So there.
SYNOPSIS: This is a first person POV of the "missing scene" from "Surprise". Buffy gets to tell her side of events.
DEDICATED: To Harpy, who inspires me so much with her wonderful fiction.
NOTE: This originally appeared in the zine Passion 2.
The first thing that comes to mind was the cold.
I was *so* cold, every muscle in my body contracting spastically, causing me to shake. I was shivering, and I could feel my lips twitching. I pressed them together in a futile attempt to still their obvious motion. He was concerned, my Angel.
"You're shaking like a leaf," he told me. The non-freezing Buffy would have whipped out some smart-ass comment to answer him, but the new, colder than the Arctic Buffy was a bit more subdued.
I allowed him to hand me some clean clothes and lead me over to his bed. Unprotestingly, I sank down unto the welcome softness, letting the mattress support my aching body. I reached a hand to my shirt, about to take it off when I realized he was staring at me. Momentarily overcome with maidenly shyness, I glanced at him. He had the grace to understand what I was silently trying to communicate, and he spun around with a softly muttered, "Sorry."
Moving quickly, I attempted to pull off my hopelessly sodden tank top, when a knifing agony caught me unawares. I gasped from the intensity of the pain, and suddenly he was there, demanding to be allowed to see the wound. Clutching the soaked cardigan to my chest, a sort of makeshift shield for my apparent modesty, I turned my back towards him, granting him access. He reached a gentle hand to my shoulder, fingers grasping the strap of the top, pushing it away from my cut. His fingers explored the area, searching for any signs of infection.
He said something then, but I was too caught up in the sensation of his large, hard hands caressing my back to be concerned with mere words. Abruptly, all my reserved strength fled my body. I sank back into his protective embrace, my heart crying out from the near miss we had suffered just moments before. I almost lost him.
I almost lost him. Those were the only words I could hear, echoing in my head. I could hardly believe the truth, that he was still here, that he was still with me. If he left -- oh god, if I ever lost him, I would die. I would curl up and die from the agony. If they had gotten him, they would have had to take me too, because I knew that I couldn't live without him. I wouldn't want to. There would be nothing left for me if he was gone.
"You almost went away today," I whispered.
"We both did," he said, arms tightening further around me.
"Angel..." I sobbed, "I feel like if I lost you..." I could feel the tears welling in my eyes. "You're right, though. We can't be sure of anything."
"Shhh. I..." he broke off.
I turned my head to look at him. "You what?"
His eyes, his beautiful, expressive eyes, locked on mine. "I love you. I try not to, but I can't stop."
My heart swelled in my chest, and my love for him overwhelmed me. "Me, too. I can't either," I whimpered.
I don't know if I leaned up or if he leaned down, or maybe both happened, but suddenly, his lips were on mine, and it was a revelation. I loved him, loved this man with every single bit of myself. Our lips clung together tenderly at first, but then more fiercely.
Abruptly, he pulled away from me. "Buffy, maybe we shouldn't..." he trailed off, leaving the decision up to me. It was just another reason that I loved him, his desire to do what was right for me, despite his own needs. I could see the vulnerability in his eyes, the aching need lurking in their dark depths. He wanted me every inch as much as I wanted him, but he wouldn't push. It was up to me.
I knew what I needed. I touched his face. "Don't. Just kiss me."
His eyes darkened, and his lips once again claimed mine. Somehow, I managed to wrap my arms around him, clinging to him. I was shaking again, and this time it had nothing to do with the cold. The decision had been made, and I was desperately glad, but once the reality of the situation hit, my nerves made their presence known.
It sounded silly, but I was a virgin. A seventeen year old virgin. Not many of them roaming around anymore. And he was about two hundred and twenty years older than I was, and certainly *not* a virgin. His experience blew my mind, the thought of the sheer number of women he had been with making my already panicking brain freak out further. I must have looked like a complete and total idiot to him.
I wasn't surprised when he sensed my panic. We had always been attuned to each other's emotions. "Shhh," he soothed, "We don't have to do this, it's okay." He brushed the wet hair out of my eyes with a gentle hand. "Just...just let me hold you."
I didn't think I could love him more than I already did, but at that moment, I loved him so much it hurt me, a bittersweet ache deep in my chest. His words sealed my fate. I was determined to show him how I felt, and I refused to allow myself to chicken out. Running my fingers through the silky hair at the back of his neck, I pulled his head down to mine, laving his bottom lip with my tongue.
Unprotesting, his mouth opened, allowing my tongue inside. Carefully, I explored his teeth, his perfect teeth, with the deadly fangs just beginning to emerge. Since I met him, I had gotten pretty good at kissing a guy with fangs, and I put everything I had learned to good use, rubbing the tip of my tongue against his sharp teeth. I knew that they were the most sensitive part of his mouth, so I played with them until his hands clamped tightly on my upper arms, holding me away from his body.
I smiled then, for the first time that evening. The look in his eyes was serious, but his mouth began to curve upwards as well.
"Are you trying to kill me?" he said, thumbs tracing lazy circles on my skin.
I smirked at him a little, but the coy effect was ruined by the blush staining my cheeks crimson. His hand found its way to my face, and his palm cupped my cheek. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his thumb rubbing my bottom lip, touching the tiny indentations I had made with my teeth. "So very beautiful."
Following some unknown instinct, I sucked his thumb into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the fingertip. His eyes darkened, and a fine tension suddenly arced through the air.
Slowly, he withdrew his thumb from my mouth, and traced a hand down my face to my chest, just barely touching the shirt I wore. I had long since discarded the cardigan, so all I had left on was a light colored, thin strapped tank top that was soaking wet and clinging faithfully to my skin. As his finger slid down the top, I realized with a jolt that I hadn't worn a bra, and that my nipples, hardened both by the cold and by his presence, showed clearly through the fabric.
I blushed again, embarrassed by my body's blatant arousal, but he smiled his cryptic half smile, and gently touched a finger to one of those hard buds. Lightning stormed through me, causing me to catch my breath and arch towards him, silently pleading for more of that wonderful touch.
He obeyed, both hands returning to circle my nipples in long strokes, arousing the hard flesh even more. I whimpered, pressing myself more firmly into his hands. At the sound of my own voice, my eyes shot up to meet his, and the desire in his gaze shook me to my already moist core.
Grasping the hem of the shirt, I pulled it over my head, tossing it behind me. I heard it land with a wet sound, then I focused my attention back on Angel. Mimicking me, he shed his own shirt, baring that pale, muscled expanse to my hungry eyes, then he stood, and quickly shucked his pants, exposing himself completely to me.
I had heard the phrase 'makes your mouth dry with lust' before, but I really had never understood it until that moment. He was delicious, and I just wanted to eat him up.
Naked, he knelt at my feet and slowly pulled my shoes off, setting them beside the bed. His hands traveled up my legs, caressing my calves, strong fingers kneading into the knotted muscle beneath. As his hands crept up my thighs, I tensed, unable to control the shyness that was seeping into me. His nimble fingers tripped up my stomach to the waistband of my pants. He hooked his hands over it, taking hold of the fabric. His intent was clear, and I braced my palms on the bed and pushed my hips up, allowing him some room for movement.
He stripped my pants off of me, my wet pants and my even wetter panties. I almost made him stop then, as I felt the lacy cotton slide down my thighs, but then I looked into his face and realized that if he didn't do this, no one ever would, because there could be no one else I trusted as I did him. So I let him strip me of every single barrier between him and my body.
When I was lying there stark naked in front of his hot gaze, I felt safer than I ever had before. It made no sense, because I should have been frightened, but all I felt was the warm safety of his presence. In my whacked-out, crazy world, he's the only person that can make me safe just by touching me.
He stared at me for long moments, his eyes sweeping up and down my body. When men had looked me up and down before, I had always felt icky, but when he did it...when he did it, all I wanted was to spread myself out completely for him, an all-you-can-eat feast.
I laid down on my side and drew my legs back onto the bed. He hadn't moved from his spot on the floor, and I thought maybe he was waiting for me to figure out if I was okay with this.
I held out my hands.
I didn't see him move, but then he was next to me, face to face. I looked at his gorgeous face, and raised a hand to skim his features, feeling all that delicious cool skin. He leaned forward and kissed my forehead.
"I love you," he said, tongue flicking out to lick my skin, as though if he said it enough, all the bad things that circled us would hear it and run in fear.
My other hand moved to his face as well, drawing him down so I could kiss him. He was more than ready for me this time, and our tongues tangled wetly. His hand trailed down my side, fondling my shoulder, my upper arm, the smooth skin of my hip. I sucked in a breath as his fingers slid over my belly, hovering there for a moment, letting me know where he was headed. I moaned against his lips, and he allowed his hand to slip between my thighs, to touch me where I was dripping wet, aching for him.
Gently, he roamed around my wetness, pausing to touch the tiny bud at the apex, then skimming down to the swollen lips. As his fingers parted me, I felt a moment's embarrassment that I was so very wet, but he didn't seem to mind as he entered me that way, one long finger slipping up into me, finding a tiny spot deep inside that made me catch my breath and sigh his name longingly.
I arched towards him, needing more. He turned me slightly, so that I was laying on my back, staring up at him crouched over me. He shifted so that he was kneeling in between my spread legs, rubbing my sensitive flesh with his magic hands. His hands played me, pressing and sliding and enflaming. My thighs parted further as my legs drew up, giving him all the room he needed. He raised his hands slightly, and my hips followed them, desperate to maintain contact.
And then, holding my hips cradled in his hands, he lowered his mouth to me. I screamed his name then, as his tongue darted out in a sinuous caress. My thighs instinctively tried to slam shut, but were held apart by the width of his shoulders. I tried to squirm away, unable to believe that this was happening to me, but he held me gently but firmly in place as he drank deeply from me, licking and sucking my inner lips.
I had never felt anything like that before, his lips and tongue and teeth working together, and a scream built in my throat. "Angel," I whimpered, "Angel, please..." and I didn't know whether I was begging him to stop or demanding that he continue.
"Hush," he said, the sounds muffled. His fingers slipped back inside me, pressing and stretching until all I wanted was to have him within me, have him hard and big, filling me up. But he wasn't done with me.
He waited until I was mindless, thrashing around him, my head whipping back and forth on the pillow. Then, with an evil chuckle, he attacked my clit, worrying the aroused flesh. That was all it took; every single muscle in my body tensed as I fell apart around his tongue, screaming out my pleasure.
The climax was still rippling through me when he slid up my body and took my lips in a kiss that consumed us both. His lips ravaged mine, and I could taste myself in his mouth. Instead of freaking me out, it turned me on more, and I pressed harder against him, lacerating my tongue on a fang.
He was the one that whimpered that time, as the blood hit him. The taste ended his self control, and he nestled himself between my thighs. Unthinkingly, I wrapped my legs around his hips, trying to get as close to him as I could.
I could hear myself crying out for him, begging for him to end the ache inside of me, the part of my body that was so empty without him. My low, choked voice echoed around us, his whispered name reverberating in my ears.
"Ready?" he asked quietly, his forehead pressed to mine. He was propped above me on his elbows, his hips lying squarely on mine, my legs wrapped around him. I nodded, and with my name as a prayer on his lips, he pushed into me.
At that moment, my world changed.
Not because he was taking me, changing my body from virgin to woman, but because I was as close to him as I could possibly be, and I loved it. I loved him, and I loved this, the expression of what we felt for each other. It blew my mind, this intimacy, his face touching mine as he moved into my body. My breath caught and I whimpered a little as the stretching pressure bordered pain, but he caught my lips, soothing me, calming me. My head arched back, pushing into the pillow, unwittingly exposing my neck for his hungry eyes.
I could feel him fight back the urge to sink teeth into me, and I wanted to tell him it was okay, that I wanted him to take me in every way he could, but I was unable to speak, the pleasure stealing my voice. Instead, I clung to his back, my fingers caressing the wide expanse, tracing over the tattoo that I could see in my mind's eye.
As I arched my hips again, he moved forward that last little bit, seating himself completely within me. I felt so full, like he had taken every bit of available space inside me and made it his own.
"Look at me," he grated.
I fought my way through layers of drugging, mind numbing pleasure. His eyes were open, boring into mine, telling me everything I ever needed to know about him. He was a vampire, true. But he loved me with all of his battered heart and tortured soul.
It was more than I ever hoped I would have, maybe more than I deserved.
"I love you," I whispered for the thousandth time, and watched him with rapt fascination as he pulled back slightly, then slid home again. I saw the pleasure steal across his face, and that made me happier than I'd ever been, because if he was happy, so was I.
His thrusts picked up speed, returning him to me faster and faster. I could feel the tension in the muscles in his back, the way they moved beneath his skin as he slammed into me. I dug my fingers into them and held on as he moved within me, moaning my name.
He was nuzzling into my throat, teeth gently nipping the skin. I knew he would never hurt me, so I pressed my throat against those teeth, and begged him to bite me. A Slayer, pleading with her vampire lover to take her blood. Giles would shit.
"Buffy," he murmured, and I knew he was going to try to deny himself, but I was having none of that, and I grasped the back of his head, pushing him into the crook of my neck, demanding that he do it.
I had been bitten before, but it hadn't felt like this. The last time a vampire bared my throat and sank fangs into me, I died. The Master had nearly drained me, then left me face down in a pool of water to drown. And I had.
This time, it was different. My body was trembling, the pleasure causing tears to run down my face. He was so deep inside of me I couldn't imagine being without him ever again, and I tightened around his hips, keeping him close. He was snarling as he thrust into me, and I knew that I should have been frightened, but this was Angel and I could no more be afraid of him than I could be afraid of myself.
He licked my throat, starting just underneath my ear, and traveling down to my collarbone in a long, wet line. Pressing a kiss to the pulse in my neck, he muttered "Love you" against my flesh as his mouth opened and I could feel the points of his fangs break through the skin. It had hurt a lot before, but this time, whether it was because Angel was being careful, or because I loved him, or because my body was beset with so much pleasure a little pain didn't even matter, it felt...okay. Good, even. And when he started to suck...
When he started to suck, I came so hard I thought I would die. He was surprised, I could feel his hesitation, but then he growled my name as his hips bucked into mine, and I could feel him flood me. I zoned then, the pleasure taking me to a quiet, peaceful place, where all that mattered was his sweaty skin pressed to mine.
Eventually, he stirred a little, slipping out of me, kissing my forehead when I whimpered at the loss of him. He wrapped me in his arms, buried his face in my hair, told me he loved me, and promptly fell asleep.
Some guy things must be universal.
He slept, and I watched him. Finally, I was safe. In his arms, with him lying spent in mine, I was untouchable, protected from all the demons, all the bad things in the world.
Angel loved me. I loved him. Nothing could hurt us now.