The End of Eternity
The overhead fans beat the heavy air of the room, stirring the sex and angst from still life as the two naked lovers moved languidly against one another.
She savoured his slick tongue in her mouth, holding it in that grasping cavern before slowly trailing the tip of her nose down the exact centre of him, brushing the roundness of her cheek repeatedly against his tight abdomen.
"God," she expelled, the uttering filling the room, "I can't believe it's been so long."
"Too damned long." He agreed, mesmerised by the steady cycle of the wooden fan above. "But it doesn't matter," Angel broke out of it, mumuring in wonder, "we have the rest of our lives."
They gazed at each other as his hands reached down to cup her cheek, brushing the wayward strands of her hair away to caress the skin that lay beneath.
"How does it feel?" Buffy asked unhurriedly, never breaking the gaze, "How does it feel now that the rest of your life doesn't mean forever?"
He sat up, bringing her with him to rest his hands behind her shoulders, looking at her solemnly.
"It feels perfect." He pressed a kiss into her temple.
"Complete." And again on the other side.
He held his face directly in line with hers as he whispered gravely, "Because when I look into the future, all I see is you."
A stray tear escaped down her cheek as she returned raggedly, "All I want is you." And invaded his mouth once more with her own.
The kiss was slow, lingering, tender, to balance the crazed rush of desire that had preceeded it.
Neither had expected to meet the other here, both having left the continent in search of a little solitude, of some peace, shattered of course when Buffy witnessed him coming in from the gleaming surf, reflections of the waning sunlight dancing on his newly tanned skin.
And there had been the yelling of course. The fighting and the screaming and the surfacing of old, buried hurts and new found stings of betrayal in knowledge that his redemption, his Sanshu, had not beem followed by an immediate dash to the nearest hellmouth.
But then this was nothing compared to the lust that thrummed just below the surface of their skins, ultimately undeniable as the prelude of anger and pain gave way to relief and release.
And now the desperation had passed, both comforted by the simple truth that nothing could come between them now and that, indeed, they had the rest of their lives, Destiny owed them that much.
His fingers rose to tangle themselves in her hair, massaging her scalp as his forearm supported her back, gently lowering her to the rough cotton of the pillows below.
He manoeuvered his half-twisted position to crawl over her, knees resting outside her hips and elbows outside her shoulders as he leaned down to maintain the kiss.
He lowered his forehead to rest on her collar bone, head beneath her chin as he blew the excess air out of his mouth, accompanied by what seemed to be the weight of the role as her demon lover. Perhaps, he briefly thought, that would be all the more reason to reinforce his new role as her day, human lover. He smiled against the skin at the top of the valley between her breasts.
He could make love to her in the open sunrise and sunset now, and all the time that lay in between.
He liked that thought.
He moved, then, bypassing her tempting breasts and placed wet, open-mouthed kisses at a slow, agonising pace down her stomach.
He wondered how it would look, extended by the curve of their child growing within her belly, deciding that it would be the most beautiful sight he would be to witness, his heart filling with an immeasurable happiness.
His hands, barely touching her skin, moved to widen the junction of her thighs, the light touches teasing Buffy's senses as she became pliant and opened for him.
His mouth eventually followed the path of his fingers, nose lingering to nuzzle her nest of wiry hair before tongue darted out to run its tip along the crevice between her nether-lips.
Buffy's sharp hiss became an open vowel, a long hard "O", as his tongue plunged into her depths.
She writhed against him at the continued onslaught of his tongue against her, replaced momentarily by three long fingers as blunt teeth trailed across her throbbing, aching clit.
"Angel," she panted, "Please….. I need you to fill me….. to complete me….. Please, I need.."
He came away from his feast, shushing her with his finger, coated with her juices, against her lips.
He nodded quickly before impaling her with a single, forceful thrust.
Her back and neck arched off the bed as hips surged forward to meet his.
He set a slow, steady rhythm, long and even strokes that indeed filled her, pushing at the limits of her core.
He continued the measured thrusts, concentration evident in his eyes as sweat beaded on his forehead, before he completely withdrew from her, quickly rotating her before she could complain from the loss, and was embedded in her flesh once more, only this time from behind.
Buffy felt so safe with her back pressed against the solid wall of his chest, buttocks nestled comfortably in the bend of his hips. The different angle also brought his cock to rub and drag across the spots in the walls of her that had become so tender for him.
The pace of his thrusts had become uneven, Angel once again surrendering to the lust that raged within his veins.
He brought their entwined hands up to her breasts, manipulating them so as to caress, pinch and flick them at irregular intervals, leaving her breathless at the eroticism of it all.
Sensing the approaching orgasm, Buffy twisted her neck to gain access to his lips, kissing him fiercly as her sex milked his and she was flooded with his seed.
He withdrew from her, turning their bodies again so that her head rest against his chest, her breasts crushed to his hard body.
She opened her eyes and marvelled at the sight of the golden tinge that now graced his skin, seeming to breathe life into his whole being. She wondered if it made his flesh taste any different, sliding her tongue against his nipple to experiment before engulfing it with her mouth.
The growl that accompanied the wet noises that came from Buffy's mouth sounded more like a purr to her and she smirked.
"You can't even growl properly anymore. Spike will not be impressed."
He laughed. God, even his laugh was golden, full of sunshine, injected with new-found life.
"But it's okay," she continued, "I'm sure you can make up for it some other way."
"But how, baby?" he drawled, the sensual glint his eye showing her just how far Spike had been thrown out the picture.
"Oh, I don't know," she replied in seeming innocence, "I'm sure you'll think of something." As each syllable walked her fingers along his penis, towards the sensitive tip which she gave a gentle squeeze.
"Tease." He growled, as if to prove he still could, and threw her under him as his mouth ravaged hers.
She giggled before giving herself up in the momentum, moaning into his mouth before placing a hand over his chest.
She broke away breathily, "Your heart is racing."
He placed his hand correspondingly on her, "So is yours." He grinned in return.
She pressed her lips to where her hand had been before settling her head between the crook of his neck and allowing the pulse of the circulated air to take up the silence.
She sighed, eventually, her whole body moving in accordance.
"What's wrong?" he asked in concern, clutching her hand in his.
"It's just… Willow and all of them…. How are they going to….?" She struggled for words before she simply stated, "Broken bonds are never mended."
She buried her face into his shoulder as he heard him say through his smile, "Then we'll make new ones. Besides, they'll have to come and visit when we have our first and second and… sixth child…"
"Sixth?!" she exclaimed, lifting her body to look at him, "You think I'm giving birth to six kids?!"
"Hopefully," his gentle smile grounded her, "I want it all. The six kids in the big pink house because I let you have your way with the four pets because I let the kids have theirs. I want to be there for every first thing that they do, to teach them how to appreciate the beauty of the world, to kiss them goodnight at the end of the day and learn how to be really, really quiet."
His last whispered words reached her over devious eyes as he dropped his head to take her breast into his mouth, teeth scraping across the pebbled surface as he elicited a moan.
"Ssh," he broke away, "Lillian's sleeping."
Angel nodded, "Lillian. And Erica and Jude and Ewan and Kirstin and Cordelia…"
"One of our daughters will be named Cordelia?"
He shrugged, "I promised."
Buffy smiled at the wonderful simplicity of it all, collapsing him on top of her as her legs surrounded him, holding him firmly against her.
"Take me home," she murmured softly in ernest, "I want to start it now."
"Start what now?" he asked, gazing curiously down at her.
"The rest of our lives."
f e e d b a c k
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