TITLE: The Most Basic Instinct II: Want. Take. Have.
SPOILERS: BtVS: "Beer Bad"
DISCLAIMER: All BtVS and AtS characters, concepts, etc. are copyright FOX, The WB, Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy Productions, and Kuzui Entertainment. This work is not-for-profit fanfiction, and no infringement is intended.
SYNOPSIS: A sort-of sequel to TMBI. This time 'round, CaveSlayer finds *her* mate.
DEDICATION/BLAME: seneca, who is a creature of PURE, UNMITIGATED EVIL. I had NO INTENTION of writing this, but then she just HAD to go whispering in my ear... Bitch. :->
PREVIOUS STORY: Can be found at http://members.tripod.com/~Alexis_Victoria
"Buffy, you need to lie down and go to sleep!"
"No sleep! Buffy no sleep!"
Willow clenched her eyes shut, hands rubbing her face. Cave Buffy was enough to make anyone drink. And getting her bathed and reclothed...the effort that had taken was almost beyond the bounds of friendship. "Buffy, you said you were tired. Sleep."
"No sleep. Want...want..." Buffy's face scrunched up, and her eyes filled with tears.
Willow's heart twinged. "Oh, Buffy, don't cry, you don't have to sleep. Shhh." The redhead crawled onto Buffy's bed and stroked her hair.
Buffy raised her head and looked Willow in the eyes. "Want Angel. Buffy want Angel."
The mournful sound of Buffy's words caused moisture to well in Willow's eyes. "I know you do, but you can't have him. He's not here."
Willow shook her head. "No Angel."
Buffy wrapped her arms around herself as she began to rock back and forth, chanting, "No Angel, no Angel, no Angel."
Pressing a kiss to Buffy's head, Willow stood. "Stay here, I'm going to go to the bathroom for one minute, then I'll be back, okay?"
Buffy didn't answer, she just continued her wrenching mantra.
With a sigh, Willow stood and went to the bathroom. When she returned five minutes later, Buffy was gone.
Desolate, Buffy wandered through the streets, wanting to find Angel but having no idea where he was. She couldn't smell him, and her chest ached every time she thought about him. Suddenly, she caught sight of a yellow cab. Cabs went places. It would take her to Angel. She sprinted over to the vehicle, and pounded frantically on the window of the cab with her left hand. Her right hand clutched desperately at her club. When the obviously bewildered cabbie rolled down the window, she thrust a tattered business card in his hand. "Need Angel. Go Angel."
The cabbie looked down at the card. "You wanna go to LA now, lady?"
"Want Angel," she demanded.
The man shrugged. "No problem."
Cordelia and Doyle were in the midst of yet another round of foreplay cleverly disguised as an argument when the door to the office flew open and Buffy staggered in, clutching a withered tree branch.
"Buffy?" Cordelia asked as she shot out of her seat, heading towards the clearly disheveled Slayer. "Buffy, are you okay?"
Buffy's forehead was wrinkled, and she was growling low in her throat, a sure sign of her discomfort. But at the sight of Cordelia, she relaxed slightly. "Cordy." She touched the other woman's shining hair.
Cordelia nodded. "Uh-huh. I'm Cordy. But you know that, Buffy. What's wrong?" She took Buffy's free hand in both of her own.
Lower lip trembling, Buffy whispered, "Want Angel."
From behind the two women, Doyle spoke. "I'm assumin' she usually has a larger vocabulary?"
"Shut up, Doyle," Cordelia hissed without bothering to look at him. "Something's really wrong--"
"Hey, could someone pay me now?"
Everyone looked up as the cabbie walked into the office. "It was a long ride from Sunnydale, and I want my money."
Cordelia smiled winningly. "Doyle will take care of you, sir. Thank you for your help."
He looked at Buffy. "Is she...is she okay? She seems like a nice girl, but not all there, if you know what I mean."
"She'll be fine."
Doyle opened a desk drawer, and removed the petty cash container, taking the wad of bills inside. He walked over to the cabbie, and took his arm. "C'mon man, I'll walk you out."
Cordelia watched them leave, then turned her attention back to Buffy. "Does Giles know where you are? Remember Gi-les?"
Buffy nodded. "Giles smell good."
Wincing, Cordelia resisted the urge to shudder. "Oookay."
Cordelia nodded. "Yeah, Angel's here." Then, to her horror, Buffy began to cry.
"Miss Angel. Angel gone."
The brunette was at a loss as how to handle her friend, so she wrapped her arms around the smaller woman, and led her to the desk, where they sat. Quickly, Cordelia stamped her foot on the floor, signaling to Angel that he had best get upstairs quickly.
It was when she heard the elevator kick in that she remembered that Angel was not alone. Kate was with him. Great. Just what Non-Verbal Buffy needed.
The elevator door opened, and Buffy craned her head towards the noise. "Angel?" she whispered as she caught sight of her ex-boyfriend.
Angel strode through the door with Kate in tow. "Cor, what the hell are you -- Buffy." The vampire froze in his tracks, causing Kate to collide with his back. "Buffy," he said again, a little desperately.
Buffy moved away from Cordelia, stepping towards the man before her. Rapture was written all over her tear streaked face as she looked at him, absorbing every single glimpse of him.
Cordelia spoke quickly. "There's something wrong with her. It's like she's...I don't know, retarded or something."
"Who is this, Angel?" Kate's voice broke into Angel's confusion.
He looked at her. "This is Buffy," he said simply, as though that should convey everything Kate needed to know about her.
"Who let her out of the psych ward?"
"She's not insane," he growled.
Reacting to the anger she felt from Angel, Buffy narrowed her eyes at Kate, who was clutching Angel's arm. Buffy did not like this strange woman touching her man. "Angel Buffy mate," she snarled, advancing on the other woman. When Kate did not remove the offending limb, Buffy repeated herself, stressing each word. "*Angel* *Buffy* *mate*."
Kate risked a glance at Angel. "And you said she wasn't crazy?"
"She's not," he said shortly. "She's right." Ignoring Kate's incredulous glance, Angel closed the distance between himself and his love, shaking off Kate's clinging touch. He reached out a hand and cupped Buffy's cheek. "It's okay now, Buffy. You're here. With me."
"Miss Angel," Buffy whispered.
Angel felt his already shattered heart crumble in his chest. "I missed you too. Every second."
"Angel, what the hell is going on here? You can't possibly --"
Kate's voice grated on Buffy's last nerve, and without hesitation, Buffy raised her club and slammed it down over Kate's head.
Both Cordelia and Angel watched dumbly as Kate slid to the floor in an ungraceful heap. Cordelia was the first to speak. "Well, I've wanted to do that for as long as I can remember."
Angel knew that he should help Kate up, but all his attention was focused on the woman in front of him. Carefully, he took the club in his hand, sighing when she relinquished it without a fight. "Cor? Call Giles--"
"I'm already on it," she answered, phone in hand.
"Buffy, can you--" Angel's question was interrupted by her small blonde form burrowing against his chest. Instinctively, his arms came up around her, cradling her within his embrace.
She sobbed a little, rubbing her face against his chest. "Buffy miss Angel."
"I know, baby" he whispered, dropping a kiss onto her tangled hair. "I know."
"Yeah, Giles? It's Cordelia. Hi. Yeah. Yeah, she's here. Took a cab, apparently. She's fine. Angel has her. She's calm. What the hell is going on?...A what? Beer? A warlock? Not that freaky friend of yours, the one with the...oh, okay. No, no, don't bother. We'll bring her back. Uh-huh. Tomorrow. It should have worn off by then? Good. You too, Giles. Bye."
Cordelia looked at Angel, and repressed a small smile at the sight of Buffy clutched tightly in Angel's arms. When were they going to learn that no matter how hard it was to be together, being apart was a thousand times worse? "Some disgruntled bartender served them beer--"
"Beer good," Buffy piped up. "Foamy."
Angel looked down at her head in disbelief. "Remember the last time you got drunk? You almost got eaten by a giant demon snake."
"Buffy like beer."
Snickering, Cordelia finished her story. "Anyway, the b...everage was laced with some funky spell to make whoever drank it turn into a cave person."
"To quote Giles? They've 'devolved'."
"Yup. But it's only temporary. Giles said that she should be back to normal -- well, normal for Buffy -- by tomorrow."
Angel was still trying to puzzle everything out, while at the same time trying not to react to the warm, sweet-smelling bundle standing docilely in his arms. "So she took a cab here?"
"Aye," Doyle said, coming into the office and shutting the door behind him. "And it cost a pretty penny, too!"
"But how did she know how to get here?" Angel asked. "She's not in any condition to remember an address or anything?"
"Maybe she stuck her head out the window and tracked you by scent, Angel."
The vampire glared at his assistant.
Doyle held out a dog-eared business card. "Cabbie said she handed him this card and demanded to see Angel. I think the guy was afraid of her club." The half demon looked down, then did a double-take. "Y'are aware that Kate's passed out on th' floor, aren't ya?"
"Oh, right," Angel said, looking down. "Pick her up, will you? I'm going to take Buffy downstairs." Still cradling the Slayer in his arms, Angel lifted her off the ground and turned, walking back to the elevator.
"Leave her, Doyle," Cordelia instructed. "She's finally just where she belongs."
Doyle grinned. "Ah, that's my Delia, catty as ever."
"I what?" Angel turned around to face Buffy. They were the first words she had spoken since they had gotten off the elevator. She had his leather coat in her hands, and her face was buried in the folds. She held it out to him. "Smell Angel."
The coat smelled like him. And that made her smile. Which made him smile. "Smells good?" he inquired, running a fond hand over her hair.
"Angel smell good," she confirmed, beaming up at him. "Buffy smell good?" She bared her throat to him, so he could sniff her.
Desire flooded him for an instant before he managed to regain control. "Uh, yeah, you smell good." He took her hand, and led her to his bed. "You should lie down, Buffy. Get some rest."
Obediently, she sat on the bed, staring up at him. "Angel bed?"
He shook his head. "I'll...ah...crash on the couch."
Her brow wrinkled. "No. Angel bed. Buffy bed." She patted the comforter, then smiled.
"Buffy, that's not a good idea, and if you were...normal, you'd know that."
Angel backed up a little as she stood. She touched his arm, tugging at him. "Bed," she said, pulling him towards it.
He resisted. "We can't--"
She glared at him. "Bed. Now. Want Angel. Angel bed." She clarified her point by ripping his shirt from his body. Her eyes darkened at the sight of his muscled chest, and she ran her hands over the smooth skin.
He whimpered, frozen in place.
Buffy took advantage of his momentary stupor, and tossed him on the bed, then climbed on top of him, pressing him into the mattress.
Panic drove Angel into action. "Buffy, we can't do this, you're not yourself--"
Buffy covered his mouth with her own, staking her claim on him with her lips. His hands came up to grip her upper arms, trying to force her away, but she was as strong as he was, and she was determined to have him. She pulled back, staring into his eyes. "Mine," she insisted. "Angel *mine*."
"Want Angel. Need Angel. *Love* Angel."
Need clawed him with razor-sharp talons. "I love you too, but we can't do this. You know that. The curse, remember?"
She paused for a moment, chewing on her lip in confusion. "Curse bad," she said vehemently. "Curse BAD."
Angel nodded. "The curse is very bad, but it's there." He began to feel a modicum of relief when she unpinned his shoulders from the mattress.
"Don't care," she announced suddenly, her lips covering his own once more.
Teetering on the thin line between heaven and hell, Angel groaned. He had to be strong for the both of them, he knew that. Trouble was, it was hard enough being strong for just him. "Buffy," he murmured into her mouth, "You need to--"
He was cut off by her warning growl. "Quiet," she demanded, sitting up. She grasped her shirt at the waist and ripped it from her body, making it perfectly clear that she was wearing nothing beneath it.
Her soft, golden skin begged to be touched, and Angel wanted to cry. Surely this was too much to ask of him. Surely this was more temptation than one man should ever have to face.
Her sweatpants were constricting her, and his pants were confining him, but suddenly they were gone, torn away by supernatural strength. He gasped as her hand found his engorged cock, stroking with a gentleness that belied her prior savagery.
"Angel touch Buffy?"
He was unable to resist, and his hands slid to her chest, cupping her breasts, thumbs rubbing her nipples into tiny aching buds. Mewling, she arched into his hands, her head falling back.
"Good," she breathed, her hands coming up to cup his.
His nostrils flared at the scent of her arousal, and he could feel the wetness seeping from her onto his stomach where she straddled him. Angel dragged one hand from her breast and slid down her abdomen, to the juncture of her thighs. Delving deep, he stretched her tightness, drawing forth her fluids. Leaning down, she captured his lips in a fierce kiss, tongues twining, caressing. He added another finger to the two already wallowing in her moisture.
Buffy keened, grinding herself down on those long fingers, wanting them further inside her empty core. In the back of her mind, she knew what to do, and she rose up, moaning softly as his fingers slid from her. She shifted slightly, and before he had time to react, she dropped herself down on his cock.
Angel groaned, the sound echoing through the cavernous room. He knew they shouldn't be doing this, but he was inside her, inside that tight, slick heat that belonged to him, and he was helpless in the face of that knowledge.
He filled her completely, and she cried out from the delicious invasion. "Big," she whimpered. "Angel biiiig."
Letting out an unwilling bark of laughter, Angel grinned up at her. Her face was contorted in ecstasy, and before his eyes, she began to rock back and forth, raising herself up slightly then dropping herself back down.
Their mating was raw, and it lacked finesse and grace, but it was wonderful, the long denied pleasure swamping them both. Buffy was completely wild, her beautiful nakedness slick with sweat, her hair tangled and free around her head, puddling on his chest when she leaned down towards him. She mewled as she rode him, her hands scrabbling for purchase on his muscled chest.
His hands gripped her hips, aiding her, forcing her down firmly on his manhood. Her tiny hand covered his heart. "Mine," she said fiercely.
He nodded. "Yours. Only yours."
She grunted in satisfaction, then took hold of his left hand, placing it over her own heart. She looked at him, her eyes begging him to claim her as she had claimed him.
Curse, soul, vampire, Slayer, immortal, mortal...none of that mattered between them anymore. All he knew was that he had been hers since the first time he had seen her, a schoolgirl sucking on a lollipop. He had taken one look at that small girl, and he had loved her beyond restraint, beyond any semblance of logic. But it wasn't until later that he realized she would be also be his. She knocked him on his ass, and ignited in him a yearning need for her that would never be completely assuaged, no matter how many times he took her. He had taken her virginity, and marked her with both manhood and fangs as his own. Rationally, he knew that she had been with someone else while at school, and though the knowledge that another man had trespassed on his territory enraged him, it all boiled down to the simple, unalienable truth that they belonged to each other.
His eyes held hers. "Mine," he enunciated clearly. "Only mine."
Her joy was written across her face, and she writhed above him, whimpering his name over and over again. His free hand slid to the spot where they were joined, burrowing through moist curls to find her swollen clitoris. He stroked the sensitive bud, delighting in the way she tightened around him, milking him in her pleasure. A few moments later, she tensed and arched her back as her whole body began to tremble.
With a loud wail, Buffy came, her whole body shuddering around him, clutching at him intimately. She sobbed loudly, then dropped to his chest, turning her head. "Drink," she demanded.
Angel licked his lips, trying to fight the urge to sink fangs into her, but he could see his mark on her neck, and it called to him. He could feel his orgasm boiling up, and no matter how he tried, there was no resisting the lure of her blood. His right hand came up and entangled itself in her long blonde hair, baring her neck. He licked the length of his mark, feeling primitive joy well in him at the sign of his possession of her. She was his, and he would kill anyone that challenged his claim to her.
With a low snarl, he struck, his fangs parting the scarred skin of her neck instantly. He drew deeply, drinking in the nectar that he never imagined he would taste again. Her taste seduced him, sharing secrets, telling him of her love for him, her desire, her regret, her sorrow. Angel ignored the regret; there was no room for regret when he was with her.
The feel of him at her neck, suckling at her, tugged a primal chord within her, and she caught her breath as she exploded around him once more, the succulent convulsions sending him into climax seconds after her. His body jerked powerfully into hers, emptying his seed deep inside.
They clung together, Angel listening to her frantic heartbeat slow down even as her blood rushed through his veins. He yelped with surprise as Buffy abruptly raked a hand over his breast, four bloody trails appearing instantly beneath the force of her fingers. Slowly, she licked the furrows. Looking up, she stared at him, mouth red. "Angel mine," she said, "Only mine."
She had blooded him as he had blooded her, and their mouths met, their blood mingling as their tongues met and dueled. He protested weakly as she slid off him, but then sucked in an unnecessary breath as her mouth engulfed him. Her head bobbed down, then back up, her tongue tracing a lingering path. She lifted her head, meeting his hot gaze. "Angel taste good," she said, and the tone of her voice nearly made him come again.
He growled at her, causing her to smile. Her mouth teased him for several minutes, enjoying his squirms and thrusts. But for Buffy, it wasn't enough. She was empty without him; she needed him inside her, stretching her to fit him. Quickly, she crawled on hands and knees to face the foot of the bed. She glanced at him over her shoulder, a wanton, thoroughly female look. Her ass wiggled invitingly, and without conscious thought, Angel was on his knees, leaning over her back, blanketing her with his body. Her arms braced themselves on the bed, and she purred, rubbing her behind into his groin. He dropped his forehead to rest against the back of her head, and wrapped one arm around her waist, using the other hand to guide himself to her scalding heat.
And then he was inside her, and she was burning him up once more. The last thought he had before the world came crashing down was being with her like this was worth anything.
The loud, feminine scream, followed quickly by a roar of masculine satisfaction had the three people in the office looking down at the floor.
"He's...he's...with that *thing*," Kate hissed.
Cordelia's voice was cool as she answered. "That *thing* --"
Doyle cut her off. "Actually, she's his wife. But they don't discuss that in public."
"He's MARRIED?" Kate was clearly taken aback.
"Well...not in the legal sense..." Cordelia pointed out.
Doyle shook his head. "Very married in the old Irish sense, though. Claddaghs and bodily fluids exchanged and all that."
Cordelia grimaced. "Doyle, that's gross."
"Ah, princess, I have some bodily fluids waitin' here just for you."
"Angel's married. To that mentally challenged girl?"
"She's not usually mentally challenged. She's...uh...really into roleplaying, and that's her...persona for today."
Kate looked completely and totally repulsed. "He's not the man I thought he was," she huffed, digging around in her pocket for her car keys. "Tell Angel that I would appreciate it if he never tried to contact me again." With that, she stalked out the door, slamming it behind her.
Smiling widely, Cordelia crossed her arms over her chest. "And good riddance." Then her face fell. "But now we have worse things to deal with. Like our boss turning into the biggest badass of them all."
"You don't have to worry about that, darlin'. His soul is intact."
"Remember the curse? Moment of true happiness? What do you think is going on down there, anyway?"
"At the moment, Angel is getting himself shagged to within an inch of his life."
"And remember what happens when *that* happens?"
"Yeah, yeah, but that's no' goin' to happen this time."
"And why not?"
"Remember that ring?"
"You mean the Gem of Amara? The one that Angel destroyed?"
Doyle's grin was obnoxiously smug. "That would be the one."
"It's gone, Doyle. And even if it wasn't, we don't know that it could have protected him."
"He destroyed the ring, not the power."
"When he broke the gem...the power was freed...and it flowed into him."
The realization dawned on Cordelia's face. "So he's immune to sunlight..."
"And to stakes, and to fire, and to pesky Gypsy clauses... The old boy doesn't realize it yet...but he will."
Her smile was blinding. "That's the best news I've heard in, like, forever."
"Whaddya say we go celebrate down at the pub?"
She looked at him for a minute, then grabbed her purse. And as they walked towards the door, she asked, "What about those bodily fluids you wanted to share?"
"Those? Darlin', those are for later."