Yseult deBreton

RATING: R (with an occasional descent into NC-17)
TIMELINE: Sometime after "Revelations" and before "The Prom"
SUMMARY: Yseult does fluff. Buffy and Angel do fluff. Yeah. That’s better. No angst. I promise. Well, maybe a little angst.
AUTHOR’S NOTE (1): This story is part of the "Variations on a Theme ~ Water" series.
AUTHOR’S NOTE (2): Thoughts are in italics.
DATE OF COMPLETION: 16 August 2003
DISTRIBUTION: List archives, Stormy Weather, Ducks BB, Scribes of Angel, Yseult’s Passion, and my permission.
DISCLAIMER: [insert maniacal laughter here]
FEEDBACK: Absolutely craved. Send it to

Buffy woke at 8:20 a.m. and panicked. I’m late. Then she remembered that today’s classes had been cancelled. It was Professional Development Day. Her teachers were in educational workshops. Giles too. She had a free day, a day for herself, a day to do anything she wanted. A whole day to spend with Angel. Yum! After she showered, she dressed quickly, donning the blouse and pants she’d selected last night. She stood before the mirror and eyeballed her head. The weather report said the rain would last all day. That translated into funny Buffy hair. Buffy twisted the wet strands and scanned the top of her dresser for a giant jaw clip. Then she surveyed the overall result. She looked casual but stylish which was the effect she desired. She wanted to be Casual Buffy Visiting Angel not Sex-Starved Buffy Visiting Angel.

She grabbed an umbrella and her knapsack and ran into the rain. When she arrived at the mansion, she was cold and damp. She paused at the door. 9:35 a.m. Angel should be sleeping. Buffy quietly opened the door and slipped into the darkened house. After her eyes adjusted to the reduced light, she made her way to Angel’s bedroom. He wasn’t there. That’s weird. Where’d he go?

Buffy wandered back into the great room. She had specifically told Angel that classes had been cancelled, Giles was busy, and that her mom would be at the gallery. She had done everything but say "Let’s spend the day together." Crap. She should have said "Let’s spend the day together." Typical male. Can’t take a hint unless it comes with a two by four. Buffy reasoned that he couldn’t have gone far. She would just have to wait. She scanned the room and got an idea. She would build a fire, light some candles, and put some music on. She’d brought her portable CD player and a stack of CDs. She was going to get some romance if she had to manufacture every last bit of it.


How does Angel do this? Buffy wondered as she watched her carefully built fire send waves of smoke into the mansion’s great room. She went over the process in her head. She had stacked the wood in a pyramid-like structure. She had crunched newspaper into wads and stuck them in the open spaces amongst the logs. She had lit the match and watched the flames shoot into the chimney. All exactly as she’d seen Angel do countless times. So why am I sending smoke signals? Buffy closed her tearing eyes and pictured Angel making a fire. The truth was that she had paid far more attention to the way his body moved as he built a fire rather than to what he did.

"Should I call the fire department?"

Buffy shrieked and spun on her heel. Angel was leaning against a wall, arms folded, with his head tilted to one side as he watched the smoke billow into his home. Drops of rain fell from his coat

"What?! No, I can do this. I think." Buffy turned back to the fire and coughed as another cloud of smoke wafted into the room. "Or you could stop smirking and come over here and help me."

Angel’s voice whispered in her ear, "Only if you promise to stop pouting." He moved towards the fire and turned a recessed handle that opened the chimney’s flue. The smoke began to recede and dissipate. He also opened the patio doors. The smell of falling rain filled the room.

"You know it works better if you use a blanket." Angel hung his dripping coat over the back of a chair and shook the water from his hair.

"What does?" Buffy didn’t know what he was talking about.

"Smoke signals. You use the blanket to cover and uncover the smoke. Also, the smoke? It needs to be much darker so it can be seen far away." He paused as he caught her glare, then added hopefully, "I love you. Come here."

Reluctantly, Buffy walked over to him and pouted at the floor. "You know, one day you’re going to trip over that lip." Angel kissed her forehead. "I do love you. What are you doing here? Why aren’t you in school?"

Buffy glared at him again before moving out of his reach.

"Now what?" Angel didn’t think she was still upset about the fire.

"Angel, I told you I don’t have school today. I’ve been telling you all week. God. You really are just like a regular boyfriend. I even told you last night when you walked me—" She stopped abruptly as she saw the half-smile he was trying to hide. Buffy took a deep breath. "No, I’m not paranoid at all. It just threw me that you weren’t here, that’s all."

"I went out to get some things for you." Angel pointed to the grocery bags on the floor. "Unless you plan to drink blood all day."

Buffy knelt and browsed through the bags. "Hey, you got all my favourite stuff. You didn’t have to." She smiled at him. "But thank you."

"You’re welcome. Come on. You can tell me how we’re going to spend the day while I put everything away."


Buffy giggled as Angel brushed a stray strand of hair off her shoulder. "This feels weird. Why am I doing this again?"

Angel ran his tongue over her lips before he stepped back. "Because I asked you to. And you love me. Now don’t move."

He returned to the couch and picked up his drawing pad and charcoal. He sketched the bare outlines of her face and hair before drawing in her eyebrows, eyes, nose, and mouth. "You’re moving," he growled as Buffy wrinkled her nose.

"That’s because I have to sneeze."

"Don’t," he commanded as he drew her shoulders and arms.

"Easy for you to say,. Mister I-Don’t-Need-To-Breathe. Your opinion doesn’t count."

"Shhh." He sketched the swell of her breasts and used his thumbs to smudge the areola around her nipples.

"Which part are you drawing now?" It had taken Angel twenty minutes to pose her on the floor in front of the fire. It would have taken him five minutes if he had ignored her pleas for kisses. At one point he had been laying on top of her, his erection pressing earnestly between her thighs. That’s when he’d decided to put some distance between them.

"Can I move now?"

"No." Angel added depth and texture to her skin.

"How long do I need to stay like this?" Buffy was secretly enjoying the attention. Angel was staring at her in a manner she had never experienced. "Can I talk?"

"Can I stop you?"

"Yes. Maybe. Wanna try?" She uttered the last two words with a thoaty voice. So far the highlight of her day had been Angel’s very firm body pressing her into the floor. She had been disappointed when he’d suddenly backed off, but she understood why.

"I’m almost done." Buffy’s gaze wandered around the room and stopped at her lover. His hair was mussed where she had run her hands through it. He had a trace of pale pink lipstick on his ears. His shirt hung open enough that she could glimpse one of his nipples. The erection that she’d felt between her thighs was hidden by the drawing pad. Angel’s face was serious as he concentrated on his sketch. She’d never seen him do this before. Buffy was mesmerized by the way his hands moved naturally across the paper. He knew what he was doing; confidence radiated from his body.

"I love you," she whispered.

Angel’s hand froze on the page. "I know," he replied. "I’ve always known."

A few minutes later he ripped the page from the pad with a flourish and approached her. "Okay, now don’t be mad when you see it."

Buffy frowned as she sat up. "Why would I be mad? As long as it’s not all creepy looking, I’m sure it’s fine." Then she saw the picture. Her eyes widened as she took in the details. "Holy shit. But I didn’t— That’s not what I— Angel, I’m naked. You drew me naked!"

"You don’t like it?" he asked. He had drawn the Buffy he dreamed of nightly: nude and lying in his bed.

"It’s not that I don’t like it, but… you even drew the birthmark on my— You’ve only ever seen it once. That I know of." She looked at him with suspicion.

Angel ignored her and picked up the drawing pad and charcoal.

"Angel?" Buffy’s voice was quiet but insistent.

"It’s how I remember you. Whenever it rains, I think about that night. That’s what I hung onto in Hell." Angel’s back was toward her so she couldn’t see the pain in his eyes. She heard it in his voice.


Long minutes passed. They could hear the rain pounding on the roof. Finally, Angel turned around. Buffy was still gazing at the picture.

"Angel, it’s beautiful. You made me beautiful." Her voice was soft beneath the sound of rain. She lifted her eyes to his face and raised an eyebrow. "Want to see how accurate it is?"

"Oh god," groaned Angel.


An hour later there were multiple sketches of Buffy strewn on the floor. If they were lined up in the order in which they were drawn, they would have shown her in various stages of undress. The last picture was an incomplete sketch of the intimate area between her thighs. Buffy did not know that he had drawn this as she sat cross-legged on the floor.

There were also several pictures of Angel that were not as artistic. Where Buffy lacked natural skill, she compensated with crude detail. The more clothes Angel removed, the larger his erection (on paper) had grown. He had discarded his last sketch when he observed that Buffy’s pictures lacked a certain perspective.

They sat naked in front of the fire enjoying lunch. Angel fed a blindfolded Buffy selections of cheese, fruit, and vegetables. Since he didn’t eat, she couldn’t return the favour. She was speculating on what she could do when they heard a large crash of thunder directly over the mansion. Buffy quickly pulled the blindfold from her eyes and glanced at Angel.

"It’s just thunder," he said.

"You don’t do thunder." She saw lightning streak across the window and waited for the accompanying roll of noise. "It wasn’t supposed to storm today. The radio said rain. They didn’t say anything about thunder." She ran her hand over his face and down his chest. "Don’t think about the storm."

"What should I think about?" Angel’s hands slid over her hips and squeezed her waist.

Buffy leaned towards him. She licked the skin over his sternum and suckled the soft flesh at the top of his collarbone.

"Me," she whispered before she tasted his nipples.

Angel’s hands combed her hair and guided her mouth to his lips. This kiss was different from the others they had shared today. It was more intense, more hungry, more desperate. Buffy panicked and pulled out of the kiss.

"Or maybe not me. Angel, we can’t."

Angel wasn’t listening. He caught her mouth in another kiss and pulled her onto his lap. Her breasts brushed freely against his chest. As the kiss deepened, Buffy arched her back and pushed his hands up her body until they cupped each breast. His thumbs slowly stroked the nipples until they were hard sensitive tips of need.

Buffy broke the kiss. "More, Angel, I want more," she breathed.

"Tell me what you want."

"Touch me. Make me scream." She inhaled sharply as his tongue flicked and swirled over one nipple and then the other. Between Angel’s tongue and his hands, he soon had her screaming in reckless pleasure. She ground her groin against his erection.

"Did you like?" he said after she caught her breath.

"I always like when you kiss me like that."

"You know, there are other places I can kiss you." It had been months since Angel had held Buffy this close. He missed the intensity of this feeling and he wanted to prolong it. "For instance, I can kiss you here." His lips brushed the strong artery in her neck. "Or here." Angel kissed the soft spot just below her breastbone. "Or here". He lay her on the floor and spent a lazy minute with her navel. "Or here." He slowly kissed a line to the crown of curls that covered her sex. His nose ploughed through the wiry hair and was almost smashed by the swift closure of Buffy’s legs.

"You can’t kiss me there," she protested.

"Why not? I’ve been there before." Angel smiled at the rush of blood that flooded her cheeks.

"That’s different. That was fingers and… other stuff. Not—" She turned her face to the fire.

"Buffy, look at me. Look at me," Angel’s gentle voice was persuasive. She looked at him and chewed her lower lip. "I’m not going to do anything that you don’t want. I never have. I never will. Do you trust me?"

"Yes." She spoke in a hushed voice.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," she repeated with a little more confidence.

"Then relax and let me kiss you." Angel waited until she opened her legs before ducking his head between them. He lay his cheek on her thigh and didn’t move.

Finally, Buffy spoke, "Aren’t you supposed to do something when you’re there?"

Angel smiled. "I’m admiring the view."


Several minutes passed before Buffy asked, "Is it a changing view? Because if it is, maybe I need to see a doctor."

Angel’s reply was a tentative parting of her outer lips with his tongue. Buffy squirmed. "That tickles," she giggled. When his tongue parted her inner lips, she squirmed again. "Still tickling. Is it supposed to tickle? I thought it was supposed to, I dunno, make me all hot and bothered and then I dissolve into a big puddle of mush, oohing and aahing where appropriate. Because this is just ticklish and everything I’ve read says it’s not supposed to do that."

Angel raised his head. "Do I need to gag you?" It was worth it to see the horrified look on Buffy’s face.

"Wait a minute. You didn’t say anything about bondage." She saw the amusement in Angel’s eyes. "I’ll just shut up now."

She watched his head slip back between her legs and closed her eyes. Relax, Buffy. Just relax. Millions of women do this every day and live to talk about it. She felt his tongue slide past the outer and inner lips again. When it glided over her clit, she nearly screamed. The sensation was incredible. It didn’t tickle at all, it was pure pleasure. As Angel continued to play, lick, suckle, and tease the supersensitive area, Buffy clenched her jaw until she thought her teeth would break. Her thighs rested on Angel’s shoulders; his arms were wrapped around them and held her down. As the urge to scream grew stronger, the waves of pleasure continued to build until she could no longer resist.

The next pass of Angel’s tongue over her clit sent her crashing headlong into an orgasm. Her keening screech as she came sounded loud even to her ears. As she recovered at the bottom of that trough of ecstasy, Angel’s arms clamped tighter around her hips. With a start, she realized that the pressure at her entrance was his tongue. She came again, harder than before, begging him to never stop.

Angel finally released her and rested his head on her flushed breasts. His tongue snaked out and snagged a nipple. He suckled quietly and patiently until her breathing returned to normal.

"Oh. My. God." Buffy’s voice was cracked and throaty. She cleared her throat. "Wow. That was. Wow. I didn’t know that you could do that. I mean, I knew that you could, I just didn’t know that I could, you know, do That." She couldn’t think straight, which was why she blurted out, "Gives me a whole new appreciation of the phrase ‘tongue-fucked’. Oh, god. Did I just say that out loud?" She gazed into Angel’s mahogany eyes, "Never tell me where you learned to do that. I don’t want to know."

Angel chuckled and stretched out before the fire. God, he’s beautiful. How did I get so lucky?


Buffy spent the next hour learning about the male anatomy. Unlike her Human Development class, she could actually touch the relevant parts. Also, as an added bonus, she learned where Angel liked to be kissed.

It had started out as an educational exercise. Except for the night she lost her virginity, Buffy had never actually put her hands on Angel’s cock. She’d had plenty of opportunity to view it all day, but she’d made no move to touch it. Angel had been happy to lie on the floor so he could be inspected by Buffy. He forced himself to lie still when she wrapped one hand around his shaft. He didn’t shudder with pleasure as Buffy gently pushed the foreskin back. It was when her tongue glided over the head that he nearly came apart.

"Buffy, you have to stop. You can’t do this."

She used her Slayer strength to keep his chest on the floor. "Why not? You got to kiss me in unmentionable places." Buffy moved her tongue around the head and licked down to the base of his cock.

Angel groaned and through gritted teeth muttered, "You don’t know what you’re doing."

Buffy stopped licking and scooted up his chest while keeping one hand firmly around his cock. "So teach me."

"What?" He couldn’t concentrate with her hand stroking up and down like that.

"Teach me, Angel. Who else am I gonna ask? Xander?" That earned her a growl of displeasure.

As it turned out, Buffy really didn’t need much instruction beyond "Lick. Suck. Swirl. Don’t stop." Angel’s moans guided her the rest of the way. At first, she had to fight her gag reflex, but he told her how to relax her throat. Soon she felt his body bucking beneath her and heard him say, "God, Buffy, I’m coming". His cool seed exploded into her mouth and trickled down her throat. She swallowed instinctively.

When she thought he could talk, she asked, "Do all men taste like that?"

Angel removed the arm that was covering his face and tucked it behind his head. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

No, I don’t. Next question.

"Did I do it right?" Angel had sounded like he enjoyed it, but she wasn’t sure how much was due to him just coming and how much was due to her.

"If I said you could use some practice, do you promise not to take it the wrong way?"

Buffy smiled. "I’m thinking that practice is probably a good thing." She glanced at the clock on the table. "Looks like it’s time for me to go home."

She sighed and got wearily to her feet. Angel watched her dress without the awkwardness she’d shown earlier when she’d removed her clothes. He pulled on his pants and walked her to the door where they kissed hungrily. He even makes kissing seem like art.

"Angel," she whispered. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For everything. You have no idea how much this day means to me." Buffy opened the door and was about to step into the drizzling rain when Angel pulled her back.

"Don’t you want your picture?" A wicked grin graced his face.

Buffy glanced at the picture propped by the fireplace. "You keep it. Somewhere where no one will see it." The rain turned from a drizzle to a sudden downpour. She brushed her lips against his and left.


"Wow!" said Willow. "Wow! Wow! Buffy, you would really do that? Can you do that? I mean I know you can do that, but can you do that? Won’t Angel lose his soul?"

"Beautiful ladies, what are we talking about? And, Willow, why do you look shell shocked?" Xander slid an arm around each girl as they huddled under the overhang and watched the rain fall.

"We were playing ‘Anywhere but Here’ and Buffy—" began Willow.

"You know my answer," said Xander.

"Amy Yip at the waterslide," the girls chorused.

"It never changes, Xander," Buffy rolled her eyes and began to gather her belongings as she spied her mom’s car pull up to the curb.

"Why ruin a perfectly good fantasy?" he retorted. "What’s Buffy’s latest? Something bad with Angel?" He turned to Buffy. "Wait a minute. You can’t do anything bad with Angel because then we have bad Angel. And can I emphasize how much we don’t want bad Angel?"

"Relax, Xander," comforted Willow. "It’s just a fantasy." Buffy smiled to herself as she heard the crash of thunder. "It is just a fantasy, right, Buffy? Buffy?" Buffy’s smile grew bigger as she opened her umbrella and stepped into the rain.

| Fiction Search | Home Page | Back |