Title: Unholy Water
Synopsis: A post-Phases look at Buffy and Angelus' relationship. With sex, of course. ;->
Rating: NC-17 for some pretty shameless smut.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Borrowing. Will return when done. Promise.
Content: Buffy/Angelus -- oral sex, sexual intercourse, blood play
Notes: Smut Ahead. Smut that may gross you out. If you get easily offended, or are squeamish, I'm warning you, DO NOT read this. My authorish comments are at the end so as to not spoil the *surprise*. <EG>
It was Friday night, and he was bored out of his mind. The cemetery was dead.
Angelus hopped over the curb, neatly avoiding the drained corpse he had left there.
There wasn't even any really good hunting to be done. It *was* spring and all that rot, but most people were clustered in their houses with loved ones, celebrating some bloody Christian nonsense. Even when he was a practicing Catholic, Angelus thought the whole damn thing was absurd.
//A bunch of zealots praying to a carpenter. Pfft. Plain nonsense.//
He raised gleaming yellow eyes to the street, searching for anything, anything at all, to do. Tormenting Spike was getting old *really* fast, and playing with Dru, well, that took more of a stomach than he currently possessed. He shrugged. //I guess I really did drive her crazy. She's nuttier than a fruitcake. Waitaminute...maybe she *is* a fruitcake! She's nasty, nobody likes her, and she'll be around forever! That's it!//
Suddenly, a voice jerked him out of his reverie.
"Sorry to disturb you, Deep Thoughts Guy, but it's high time the two of us had a little chat."
//Buffy!! Now *this* is interesting.//
He stalked over to her. "Hello, lover," he purred, his voice dripping lust
The endearment didn't visibly affect her, except for one small twitch of her eyelid.
//Ah ha! Gotcha.//
The disdain clearly written on her face annoyed him. It made him want to wipe it off. And as he got close enough to smell her, he figured out the best way to do it. //Well, well, well, the evening just started to look a bit more interesting.//
He stood in front of her, towering over her petite frame. "That's a wonderful perfume you have there, my love." She looked puzzled for a second before she remembered to whom she was talking. Her guard went back up almost as quickly as it had slid down.
"I'm not wearing any perfume, Angel. But that's not why I wanted to talk to you. If I wanted to talk perfume and makeup, I would have gone to the source. Cordelia. Not you."
"Augggh, you wound me with your words, dear heart."
Buffy glared at him. "What is *with* you tonight? I mean, granted, ever since you lost your soul, you've been decidedly wacky, but tonight you're bringing it to new levels."
Angelus looked up at the sky. She tilted her head back to follow his gaze. "Oh." The understanding dawned as she looked upon the full moon. "So it affects you too, not just Oz."
Suddenly, he looked very serious. "She's the source of us. She is to the creatures of the night what your sun is to you, golden girl. And tonight I feel her, strong, flowing through my veins."
She was silent. For a moment, she could almost believe the earnest man before her was Angel. The love, the reverence, with which he spoke of the moon struck a chord within her. For a moment, she wanted to throw herself into his arms and pelt him with kisses. And for a moment, she desperately wanted to live the lie. But reality hit hard when he grabbed her arm, pulling her towards him.
Buffy tensed, her hand reaching into her jacket for a stake. He caught that hand, pulling it tight behind her back. "Tsk tsk tsk, sweetling. We'll have none of that now." His free hand grasped her jaw, forcing her to meet his gaze. "I propose a truce, Buffy. A truce for the full moon. A cease fire, if you will."
Warily, she looked at him. //God, I want to believe, if only for a moment...is that so bad?//
Her voice broke as she tried to speak. "A...A...Angel, why are you doing this to me?" She hated to appear vulnerable in front of him, but she couldn't help herself. He always managed to bulldoze through all of her carefully constructed defenses. Tonight was no exception. He was perhaps more seductive now, fueled by the moon's strange influences.
"I love you, Buffy."
She jerked her head to the side, attempting to avoid the siren's song, the lure in his voice. "Come off of it, Angel. You don't love me. You don't even want me. I was a bad lay, remember?" The memory of his words to her that day at his apartment, the day that all hell had broken loose and ripped the remainder of her life to shreds, tore at her heart, ripping the scabs that had formed over it.
"Oh, I remember. I was just joking -- c'mon Buff, can't you take a joke? I want you, I've always wanted you."
Buffy glared. "You had me, isn't that great, can we move on now?"
Angelus smiled. He was so beautiful it almost hurt to look at him. "You were nothing of the sort. 'A bad lay'." He scoffed. "You were not practiced. But you will be."
Buffy froze. Those words sounded ominous to her. She shivered. //I'm so incredibly sick to be attracted to him. What's wrong with me?//
Before she could answer herself, she found herself swept up in strong arms. //Why am I not wigging out?// She shook her head. //*Whatever.* Might as well go along for the ride.//
Angelus strode through the cemetary, impure thoughts abounding in his brain. He finally had her where he wanted her, so confused that she didn't even bother to fight him.
Of course, she was so unbelievably sexy when she was fighting him, all spitting fire and sexual heat, but the strangely quiet and docile Slayer would work in a pinch. Maybe the moon was affecting her as well.
Eventually, he found what he was looking for, a long monument to some guy long in his grave. It was marble, long and altar-like. Buffy lolled her head back and looked at it. //Gee, an altar. And a sacrificial almost-virgin. Yay.//
She gasped as he laid her on it, the cold stone causing her to jerk up, breaking the contact with her flesh. "Angel, what --"
"Shhh. Truce, remember?"
"I hardly think a simple question, like what the hell are you doing, is breaking the truce."
//What, am I going to break the mood? *What*ever.//
Languidly, Buffy lay on the stone, watching Angelus strip. //I had forgotten the beauty of his body...// She felt herself grow moist just watching him run his hands over his chest, touching all the spots she ached to caress.
Quickly, he reached over and divested her of her clothing, making short work of her tank top, bra and miniskirt, leaving her clad only in a tiny pair of panties
Angelus loomed over her, all hard, naked flesh. And for a moment, Buffy allowed the horror of the past months to slip away. If he just kept his mouth shut, she could pretend that he was Angel, that he was normal, and besouled. She could pretend, and furthermore, she could allow him to make love to her, allow him to thrust inside of her, bringing her screaming and begging towards ecstasy. And damn him, he knew it, so he whispered in her ear all the wicked, carnal things he had planned for her soft flesh. He refused to be silent, climbing up on the altar to cover her body like a shroud.
The feeling of his skin touching hers made her moan, arching her body up into his, needing the contact with his skin. He obliged her, running his hands down her front, massaging her tense muscles, forcing them to relax under his prodding fingers. She felt herself slip away, her will draining to some hidden, dormant place. It was the only reason she could come up with -- the only reason she could imagine allowing Angelus to make love to her. It was as though the moon itself were removing her inhibitions, stripping her of the only protection she had left against the fiend that wore her lover's skin.
Angelus' hands traced a path down her sides, to part her unprotesting thighs. But it was when his fingers reached the lacy edge of her panties that her brain kicked in and panic began to flow freely to the affected parts of her mind.
Reaching down, she blocked his hands. "Ah, Angel -- I don't know how to tell you this, but we can't continue this right at the moment. I, uh, I have to go. Somewhere. Somewhere that is not here."
The look he shot her actually made her laugh. It was the most amusing mixture of frustration, chagrin, rage and lust that she could have ever imagined, and it was stamped all across his face.
"Buffy, I hate to point this out, but you are not going anywhere at the moment. I'm afraid that you leaving was not part of the truce."
"Yeah, but --," she squirmed, trying to rid herself of his weight pressing her down into the stone.
"But WHAT? What could be so damnably important that you have to run off NOW?"
//Ohmigod. How the hell am I going to explain this one to him? Gee, the moon affects my body too, but not in the same way? Maybe I can get Giles and his globe and moons to step in here and explain. This has to be the most embarrassing moment of my life. I have to explain to my ex-boyfriend, who now no longer has his soul firmly attached to his psyche, that I can't fuck him because I have my period? Oh GOD.//
Meeting his eyes for the first time since her back touched the stone, she rushed the words out of her mouth, willing them to be gone as fast as possible. "WellyouseeIhavemyperiodsoIhavetogonowbecausewecan'tdothisbecauseI'mdirty."
He snickered. Her immortal, undead, evil-to-his core lover actually snickered.
Humiliated as she was, Buffy still managed to take offense. She wrested her arms out of his grasp. "Just what do you find so funny?" she demanded, attempting to roll him off of her.
His lips twitched, trying to contain the grin that was threatening to explode across his face. "Uhh, love, I knew that you were...uh...indisposed about two seconds after I saw you tonight."
Her brow furrowed. "How could you --" She broke off, the realization rushing the humiliation back to the fore. "You mean -- every month -- you -- you *knew*?"
Devil that he was, he nodded slowly, that aggravating smirk again on his face. "Um hmmm. Angel was too much of a gentleman to take advantage of that precious fluid." He moved up her body until his lips were hovering over her own. He whispered the words across her lips. "But I'm not."
His words sent a completely unwilling bolt of lust through her core, shaking her already tormented body. Her eyes closed, unable to handle the sensory overload in her brain, his laugh rasping against already sensitized nerves. She was so consumed within herself, she did not notice his attention slipping back to her underwear and to what those lacy briefs contained.
She was scandalized. The largest part of her mind was reeling with the knowledge that he planned -- she couldn't even *think* the words, much less say them aloud. But the secret part of her, the innermost part of soul, was hopelessly intrigued. //God, I wonder, since he doesn't breathe -- // She derailed her own train of thought. //Let's not go there.// But *there* was precisely the place Angelus was headed.
Her mental debate was interrupted by the distinctive sound of her underwear being ripped from her body. //Well, there goes *another* pair, destroyed in the fight against evil.//
Angelus hung over her completely naked body, pinning her to the altar with the intensity of his gaze. "Do you remember this, love? Do you remember what it was like to have my cock deep inside you, making you scream? Making you arch and wrap your gorgeous legs around me?"
His voice brought all the memories, the ones she had tried so hard to repress, flooding out of the sealed vault within the depths of her mind. Images and sounds rushed through her; Angel touching her for the first time, his hands parting her weeping flesh, first fucking her gently with his fingers, then replacing those unbelievably skilled fingers with an unimaginably talented cock. She could clearly remember clenching her legs around his waist, forcing him even deeper inside her, overcome with the knowledge that there was no way for him to get close enough in her to truly satisfy her need for him. But through some secret magic, he did, filling her completely, ending the ache in her soul that had begun that night in the alley when she first tossed him on his ass.
Tormented, the tears began to stream from the corners of her eyes, silently running back into her hair. The tears continued unchecked as he kissed a path down her front, down the centerline of her body, pausing momentarily to circle her navel with his tongue. Moving farther south, Angelus encountered her thighs clenched together in a futile attempt to keep him from her soft folds. Grinning, he kissed the delicate skin of her inner thighs, gently coaxing them to relax their guard. He was smart enough to realize that stealth would serve him much better then strength, forcing her legs apart would have only broken her out of her haze. So he crept inward, stealthily, tongue tracing a winding path up her thigh until he reached his goal.
//And *what* a goal that is.// He smiled, the scent of her filling his nostrils, carrying to his brain the dual smells of her, of her femininity and the tangier scent of her blood. //*Angel* was a fool to pass this up for all those months.//
He grasped the back of her upper thighs, separating her legs further, snuggling himself into the junction at the top of her legs. Beyond protesting, she obligingly draped her legs over his shoulders, her feet hanging down his back. Her motions left her completely bare to him, all her secrets fully and totally exposed to his ravenous gaze.
His head lifted; his eyes sought her own out. Buffy wanted to flee from the look in his eyes, the hooded stare that was so like Angel's, but she was frozen in place, held immobile by the force of her body's traitorous need for him. And then he did the most intimate thing that he could possibly do. He dipped his mouth to her inner lips, tracing them delicately with just the tip of his tongue. Her arousal, already burning her alive, intensified. Her eyes slid closed, her head arched back, and her hips lifted towards him, unashamedly begging for more of that unbelievably erotic touch.
Angelus was only too happy to oblige.
He began to lick her gently, laving the sensitive flesh. The taste of her rewarded him, as he delved deeper, forcing his tongue as far as it could go.
Buffy whimpered, the feel of his soft tongue slithering around, pressing against her engorged walls, was making her wild. Wetness poured from her core, drenching him in the fluid. She thrust against his face, wanting pressure on her clit, needing it, craving it with an intensity she had never before felt.
Purposefully, he ignored her clit, instead slowly lavishing his undivided attention on her deep well. Over and over, he licked and nibbled and sucked, cleaning her, taking her blood into himself. The more he touched, the more engorged she became, her soft folds plumping up further around his tongue.
"Ohhhh, Angel...,"she moaned, clutching his head in her hands, running her fingers through the dark strands. Suddenly, she convulsed, her hips bucking up into his face. She screamed his name as she fell apart, the sound breaking the stillness of the night.
As she clenched around him, Angelus continued his ministrations, licking her swollen core. Even as she climaxed, he dragged her higher and higher, until she was afraid she would shatter into so many pieces she would never be able to put herself back together again.
She thrashed beneath him, trying to pull him up to cover her. He ignored her, instead baring a fang and gently scraping her labia, sucking the minute amount of blood that seeped out.
Caught up in her own pleasure, she came again, over and over, as he fed on her blood in that seductive manner. She did not even notice the appearance of his game face as he nuzzled himself deeper into her wetness.
Buffy was shivering, overwhelmed by the ecstasy that surrounded them. She whimpered, biting her lip. "Angel, oh please, I need you inside me, Angel please...," she babbled. She grasped his shoulders, tugging at him.
The almost painful hardness of his cock convinced Angelus that she had the way of it. Acquiescing, he abandoned her swollen, weeping flesh, and worked his way up her body, nipping at the skin he encountered along the way.
Suddenly, she found herself staring at his face, which looked blessedly human once again. She reached up and grabbed his head, dragging his mouth down to meet hers. His lips ravaged hers as she drew her legs up to wrap around him, arching her hips to feel his hardness.
They stayed like that for long minutes, mouths making love, her moist sex frantically rubbing against his erect cock. Then he gripped her head, again forcing her to meet his gaze. "You're mine, Buffy. Admit it. No matter what, soul or no, you will always belong to me."
Buffy moaned, a low anguished sound, and closed her eyes, trying to escape him.
Angelus growled. "Damn it, Buffy, admit the truth. You can't deny me. I know you, like no other man ever will."
She shook her head.
Slowly, tauntingly, he let his cock push past her entrance, just parting her lips. She gasped, arching up, trying to force a deeper penetration.
"Not until you say it," he gritted out, trying desperately to resist the powerful lure of her body. He penetrated a tiny bit, then retreated, only to thrust forward that minute amount again.
Buffy cried out, beset with too many emotions for her body to handle. Her heart was breaking even as her body flexed around him. He was right, no matter what, she would always belong to him. There was no escape. Not from this man, not from her other half.
Her eyes welled with tears as she whispered the words that she knew would satisfy him. "I'm yours, Angel, no matter what."
Triumphant, he slammed into her, finally giving her the pressure she craved. That was all it took for Buffy as she was again tossed into the chasm, the orgasm screaming through her already well pleasured body.
As her wet heat rippled around him, a vibrant, living sheath, he shuddered, pulling back and then slamming into her, again and again, drawing out the sensation of being inside her once more.
Her breath caught up in her throat at the sight of him, lost in his own pleasure. She tried to pull back, to distance herself from the demon inside of her, but she could not, her pleasure entwined inextricably with his.
Supporting himself on one forearm, he grabbed her ass with the other hand, forcing her up to meet his pounding thrusts. She was open fully to him, surrounding him with her soft flesh, with her unwilling love. Her head arched back on the hard marble as she felt the tiny tremors heralding another orgasm. Sensing this, Angelus thrust faster, having an intrinsic need to join her in ecstasy.
Their voices melded as they both cried out, the mutal pleasure swamping them. Buffy forced her eyes open in time to see him change, the vampire rushing to the fore. Instinctively, she bared her neck, needing in some bizarre way to provide him sustenance from her own body. He caught her face in his hand, exposing completely the smooth column of her neck for his pleasure. Licking the flesh quickly, he bit down delicately, her vein bursting under the pressure of his fangs.
As her body relaxed, she gripped his head to her, not fighting him, instead allowing him to take her blood -- her life -- from her. Angelus nursed from her neck, drawing her into him. The taste of her was as addictive as her touch, and the need to mark her as his was too overwhelming to resist.
Her eyes slid closed, a delicious lethargy stealing over her. Idly, she realized that they must make quite a sight: a dark haired devil crouched over a thoroughly ravished angel, her golden hair spilling over the edge of the marble.
Ignoring the demon screaming for him to finish off that amazing, powerful blood, Angelus pulled himself away, eyes narrowing in hunger at the sight of her. She was on her back, arms sprawled at her sides, blonde hair a wild tangle around her head, blood trickling from the wound on her neck down to the cleft between her breasts.
She looked so beautiful his cold heart clenched in his breast. She was his goddess, his slave, and his nemesis all rolled into one. And all of a sudden, he had a fierce, undeniable need to hoard her for himself, to protect her from the prying eyes of the night.
Silently, he leapt off of her unmoving form, pulling on his pants and shoes while dragging his shirt over his head. He grabbed his coat and scooped her up in it, completely covering her bare flesh. Carefully, he fled to her house, feet following that well traveled path out of memory.
When he reached her home, he was gratified to note that Joyce was no where to be found. Tossing Buffy's unprotesting form over his shoulder, he climbed up to her bedroom, entering via that oh-so-convient window.
In a way that would be termed tender in another man, he placed his lover on her bed, gently caressing the bruises marring her golden flesh. Buffy was silent, unable to form the words to explain or even deny what she felt.
She felt so good, so relaxed. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt this way, like nothing could hurt her. It was his presence, she realized dimly. It didn't matter that his soul was gone; her body still associated him with safety...with love. He was her protector. He would protect her from all others. She knew that.
But who would protect her from him?
As she she saw him stripping once more, obviously intending to join her in the bed, she knew the answer.
No one. She would never be safe from him.
Author's Notes: First, I'd like to say thank you for sticking with it. ;-) Second, the idea for the story as well as the title came from Type O Negative, from their CD, October Rust. The song is entitled "Wolf Moon". Here is an excerpt:
The 28th day
She'll be bleeding again
And in lupine ways
We'll alleviate the pain
Those silver bullets
A last blood benediction
It is her moon time
When there's iron in the air
A rusted essence
Woman may I know you're there
Hey wolf moon
Come cast your spell on me
Hey wolf moon
Come cast your spell on me
Don't spill a drop dear
Let me kiss the curse away
Yourself in my mouth
Will you leave me with your taste?
Again, thanks. All comments, good, bad and ugly, to me at firstname.lastname@example.org.