PART FOUR

When Angel walked through the door, Buffy had every intention of asking him calmly who the woman that had called was and why, but by the time he had finally gotten home her best intentions, with the helpful memory of Cordelia’s words, had slowly evolved into anger and hurt. The minutes had ticked by, and her mood had gone from pleasantly anticipatory to one of confused affront; it had made her question come out harsh and blunt, surprising both of them.

“Kate?” Angel echoed, a perplexed frown on his face as he closed the door behind him.

“Kate Lockley. She said she was returning your call. She implied that it was for…” Buffy paused, uncertain of her next choice of words, “personal reasons. Asking her out on a date, to be specific.”

“I don’t know anyone named Kate, haven’t asked for a phone number from a Kate,” Angel said calmly as he crossed the room to set the bag of food and the video on the coffee table. “And certainly have never called a Kate for personal reasons such as a date.”

“She says otherwise,” Buffy replied irritably, cynically inclined at the moment to believe that Angel’s answer was too practiced, too perfect; he was too adept at soothing women’s tempers with his smooth charm and beguiling smiles.

“Are you saying that you believe her?” He asked, his voice low in deliberate inquiry. Crossing his arms over his chest, Angel watched Buffy’s face.

Confronted by the soft challenge in his voice, Buffy sighed. She glanced away from him, finding the clear blue sky out the window of sudden interest. “She knew your course schedule, about your work for Professor Johannsen, and about your soccer games on Sunday,” she said quietly, returning her gaze to his face, “but apparently not that you were married.”

“Maybe she’s in one of my classes.” He shrugged slightly. “Or maybe she knows Gunn or Doyle.”

“Maybe.” Buffy replied her voice tinged with skepticism. Her eyes traced the perfect symmetry of his face: the dark slant of his brow, the straight line of his nose, the firm set of his lips before coming to rest on the dark beauty of his eyes. Without hesitation she acknowledged that she found him both beautiful and irresistible; it was no surprise that other women did as well. She’d already seen glimpses of it with Cordelia, the waitress at Ginza Shushiko, and now this Kate. Even Anya had been quite clear that if Buffy tired of her husband that she’d willingly take him off her hands. Without a doubt, Cordelia was right; there would always be women besieging him, anxious to please him. He had casually dismissed the women in his past as unimportant; would he be saying the same thing about her in a few months time?  Was she simply the latest, someday to be discarded like all the others?

“Buffy…” Angel said sincerely, uncrossing his arms and holding them open in supplication. “I honestly don’t know anyone named Kate and have no idea how she got this number. I didn’t ask her out. Let’s just forget about it and enjoy our evening.” Picking up the bag of food, he walked toward the kitchen.

Still bristling with unstable, volatile emotions, Buffy stared after him; she was just supposed to forget about it with his casual dismissal? After a few seconds, she followed him to the kitchen.

“Angel…” Buffy began as she forcibly tempered her anger. She took a deep breath, her gaze on his back. Suddenly she was seized with uncertainty. She was unsure if she wanted to have this conversation, unsure if she wanted the truth. To continue to ignore the issue would be foolish; but it wouldn’t hurt anyone other than herself.  Having a relationship with Angel – real or pretend - had been so wonderful that she wasn’t sure she wanted to chance ruining it. Maybe she should simply adhere to the adage ‘ignorance is bliss’… to have him confirm Cordelia’s words - it would surely break her heart.

Realizing that he had turned and was looking at her, waiting, Buffy glanced up at his face. That’s when it hit her. Her eyes grew wide. Her chaotic emotions of the last few weeks were suddenly crystal clear. She knew – in that instant - that she was in love with him. But then, she reminded herself, every woman in his life loved him. And that was ultimately the crux of the issue here.  But she had her pride; while it was tempting, she couldn’t just leave things as they were. She had to know about the other women. Finally she spoke, her words sounding as if they came from a long distance, “Cordelia… she said that you were going to work out something so that you could still see her. Her and probably others too. That you never intended to be…”

“Be what, Buffy?” He prompted softly, frowning. He should have known that Cordelia would cause trouble; her little act of acceptance of his decision and his marriage had been just that: an act.

“Faithful,” she said almost inaudibly.

“Cordelia is spoiled and selfish; she’ll say anything to get what she wants.” Angel replied gruffly with a touch of exasperation. Did Buffy honestly believe that lying bitch? He’d have to have a talk with Cordelia, but he wasn’t sure he could risk doing so before the BCIS finished their investigation.  At the very least, he’d have to approach her cautiously until Maggie Walsh had talked to her. He wouldn’t put it past the wealthy brunette to confess everything about his arranged marriage just to get even with him, should he piss her off.

“Well, what she wants and what she claims is hers, is you.” Buffy returned hotly. His answer was too vague; she wanted a more direct confirmation. “And from what I understand, she believes those feelings to be returned. She said the two of you had a very nice time in Ireland – let’s see, I think her exact words were something like ‘romantic’ and ‘honeymoon’.  Oh, though, I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that she’s quite willing to accept that you won’t even be faithful to her, that she’ll have to share you.”

“Kate will be thrilled to hear that too, I’m sure.” She added sullenly.

Angel’s nostrils flared and a muscle twitched in his cheek. “I see,” he bit out sarcastically, stung by what he perceived as Buffy’s disbelief and accusations. “And you believed her even though I told you otherwise?  I never invited her there in the first place! None of what she said is true,” he contended, his voice taking on an edge, “she doesn’t know anything about being faithful herself, so she’s the last person that should be telling anyone anything on that particular subject.”

In her current frame of mind, where confusion, anger and doubt predominated, his words sounded like those of a jealous lover. Buffy closed her eyes, willing herself not to break into a thousand tiny pieces. She had known from the beginning about Angel and Cordelia’s relationship; she had simply allowed herself to forget about it in the blissful enchantment of the last few weeks.

“Look,” he said on a deep exhalation of breath, lowering his voice perceptively, “I don’t want to argue. Cordelia isn’t an authority on my love life in any sense of the word. She told you what she did because she’s trying to cause trouble.”

Silence greeted his words for a disconcertingly long moment.

“Have I given you any reason to think that I’m still interested in Cordelia? Or anyone else?” He advanced toward her, his voice flat. “That I didn’t mean it when I said I wanted to see where things go between us?”

Buffy hesitated, and in that hesitation, the tenuous hold on his temper flared.

“Did I?” He bent low so their eyes were level. He didn’t realize that she couldn’t know how different he was with her, how different he treated her from the other women in his past.  How different his feelings were for her – especially when he had yet to fully acknowledge them himself.

“I don’t know what to think.” Buffy said truthfully.

“Fine,” Angel said curtly, the muscle in his cheek twitching again as he fought to control his temper in the face of what he believed to be unfounded accusations. “Believe a stranger, someone that you don’t even know, when she calls and says that I asked her out. Believe Cordelia – a woman that I think you know to be selfish, unscrupulous and a liar. Believe either of them, not me. Believe that, not what you feel, what you know in your heart to be the truth.”  His lips twisted ruefully and he quirked one dark brow, “And I thought we really had something here.”

“I… I thought so too but…”

“You know what? I’m not in the mood for food now or a movie,” he interrupted, brushing past her abruptly as he strode toward the door. He retrieved his keys from the table and opened the door. “I’m going out to get some fresh air. Don’t wait up.”

Without a backward glance he walked out the door.

***

Buffy shifted her position for the umpteenth time and tried again to concentrate on the steady drone of her chemistry teacher’s lecture but was finding it next to impossible. Instead, her thoughts were entirely focused on her husband and their unresolved argument from last night.

She had fallen into an exhausted sleep on the couch last night long before Angel returned and then, as usual, left early for her kickboxing class this morning. That meant that they hadn’t had a chance to talk and weren’t likely to any time soon given their schedules.

Buffy had spent the evening after Angel left sitting on the deck and staring out at the lights of Sunnydale with unseeing eyes. Her mood had fluctuated wildly between contrition, hurt and anger. When rational thoughts prevailed, she had to admit that she hadn’t given Angel the benefit of the doubt as she had meant to do; she didn’t trust Cordelia so why had she taken the brunette’s words as truth over Angel’s?  If their roles were reversed and he were to take, God forbid, Parker’s word over her own… well, she knew she would be more than a little upset. In fact, she probably would have reacted much as Angel had.

But in moments when the anger and hurt jostled aside rational thought, she convinced herself that his storming out of the apartment was evidence of guilt. For all she knew, he had in fact gone to Cordelia or Kate or any number of other women last night and had spent the evening in their arms without giving her another thought.

Once again she shifted in her seat. Trust. That was what it ultimately boiled down to, wasn’t it? Did she or did she not trust him?  Her parent’s relationship hadn’t been the best example; her father’s infidelities combined with her mother’s bitterness over their split had taught her to be uncertain and distrustful. Her brief experiences with both Tyler and Parker had reinforced those insecurities. But Angel… Angel was different, wasn’t he?  In just their short time together, she had already seen that.  It would be so much easier if only she knew what he was thinking, what he felt. If only she could be certain…

When class ended twenty minutes later, Buffy lingered in her seat and scanned through the text she needed to read for her homework. Her classes were over for the day, and the only thing she had to look forward to was another long shift at Patina. She checked the time on the slim silver watch on her wrist; she had almost two hours. Two hours that she could use to do homework.

Riley Finn, the sandy-haired, broad shouldered UC Sunnydale basketball star, stayed behind as well, finally working up his courage to talk to the pretty blonde sitting next to him. He had only just introduced himself to Buffy and started up a conversation when her attention suddenly became focused on the doorway, her expression one of obvious surprise.

Riley’s glance veered to the man leaning against the doorframe. Dressed in all black, he exuded a confidence that was mildly unnerving; when he smiled, the lift of his mouth was almost wolfish, his dark eyes narrowing in a predatory gleam as he returned Riley’s stare. Incongruous to the dangerous image he presented was the bouquet of pale pink roses that he held in one hand.

Angel had been waiting for Buffy outside her class for almost half an hour before the class had ended. When she hadn’t come out, he had entered the class to look for her. He hadn’t expected to find a drooling puppy at her side with a hopeful expression on his face. A powerful, almost unrecognizable, emotion had assailed him at first sight; he controlled the urge to curl his hands into fists and strike out at the man.

At the first, unexpected glance of her husband, Buffy felt a warm rush of pleasure and that now familiar ache in her heart. “Angel.” His name came out as a breathy half-question.

“Buffy.” Angel said simply, turning to look at his wife. Buffy’s way of saying his name never failed to affect him powerfully.  It curbed his temper somewhat that she seemed distracted and uninterested in the guy at her side.  He pushed away from the door and moved toward her. His gaze drifted over her lazily, taking in the sheer white top with the camisole beneath, the faded jeans that he knew from memory to be snug and low on her hips, and finally her dainty feet in the open-toed sandals with pink-painted toenails peeking out from beneath the hem of the long jeans.

Riley looked from one to the other uncertainly, the tension between the pair obvious. He took exception to the possessive look and the proprietary tone in the man’s voice, the thought never occurring to him that the young, beautiful blonde might have a boyfriend - much less a husband. The fact that she wore a wedding band had gone completely unnoticed.  Turning to Buffy, he asked in a low voice, “Do you want me to ask him to leave, Buffy?”

Realizing that she had been staring at Angel since she had spotted him in the doorway, Buffy finally pulled her eyes away from her husband to look at Riley, who had come to his feet next to her. “No, Riley. This is my husband, Angel. Angel, this is Riley Finn.”

“Finn.” Angel replied mildly, a slight challenge in his voice, as he strolled over to where Buffy still sat. Leaning down slightly, he held the flowers out to Buffy. “Peace offering?” he murmured softly, dismissing the sandy haired man that was watching them with interest. “Can we talk?”

Taking the flowers from him, Buffy looked at him with a hopeful expression. Her pulse began to hammer wildly and the urge to smile bubbled inside her. “Yes, of course. Now?”

“Now.” Angel answered, reaching for her hand as she came to her feet. “If that’s okay with you,” he amended politely, taking her book bag from her.

“It is. I mean, I have almost two hours.” Buffy smiled slightly, butterflies in her stomach fluttering wildly. He was here. With flowers! Surely that meant… well, something.

“See ya, Finn.” Angel smirked, draping his arm possessively over Buffy’s shoulder as they walked toward the door.

***

Ethan Rayne signed the document on his desk with a scrawl before answering the buzz of the intercom with an irritated sigh, “Yes? What is it?”

“You have a Mr. McDonald here to see you, sir.” Eve said crisply, even as her eyes roved suggestively over the good looking man standing in front of her desk. He gave her a wink and a smile as he waited for entry to her boss’s office.

“Send him in.” Ethan muttered, setting the expensive Waterman pen aside.  In front of him, stacks of paper littered his desk; a pile of letters that demanded attention set on one side. There always seemed to be some unfinished business that he had had to handle personally; something he didn’t trust anyone else to handle.  

Lindsey strolled nonchalantly into the expansive office suite, unconcerned that his casual attire looked out of place in the formal atmosphere. He opened the antique cherry wood humidor that sat on one corner of the desk and took two of the expensive Cuban cigars. Tucking one of them in his pocket, he took a seat opposite Ethan in one of the leather chairs facing the desk. Leaning back, he propped his feet up on the desk and toyed with the other cigar, rolling it between his fingers.

“Yes, Mr. McDonald?” Ethan inquired, noting with disdain the worn cowboy boots and ragged jeans. Leaning back in his chair, he clasped his hands together in front of him. “Have you something important to tell me, or did you simply wish to partake of my cigars and hospitality?  I’ve told you before that I prefer that you not come to my office unless I call you.”

Reaching in his jacket pocket, Lindsey tossed an envelope on Ethan’s desk. “I think you’ll find everything you wanted on the insurance deal in LA.”

“Well done,” the wealthy banker muttered, already begrudging the money that he had spent on what he perceived to be such an easy task. He should instead have paid his P.I. firm by the hour instead of assignment. “I suppose I could have taken care of the matter myself.”

“But you didn’t,” Lindsey replied cheekily, “and you were in a hurry, if I recall.”

“Yes. You’ll be paid the agreed on sum, Mr. McDonald.” Ethan said bitterly. “Anything else?”  

“Lilah’s closing up the paperwork now on those offshore accounts that you wanted, and I’ve tripled checked the background on that hotel buy. By the way, did you know that the owner of the hotel – the one that didn’t want to sell – disappeared mysteriously?  It’s quite a coincidence, should you ask me.”

“Yes, quite.” The wealthy businessman replied drolly, “And the other matter?”

“Ah. The O’Connor marriage?” Swiveling in his chair, Lindsey put his feet on the floor. “I’m still working a few angles on it.”

“I expected you to have it wrapped up by now, Mr. McDonald. You assured me that it would not be a problem.” Ethan leaned forward on his desk, his brows rising inquisitively.

“It’s not a problem, it’s just more complicated than you led me to believe.” Lindsey returned confidently.

“Complicated? How can it be complicated?” Ethan asked, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“The situation is not as simple as you think. Let’s just say, I believe more women than just your granddaughter are willing to do favors for Angel O’Connor. Not that I’d mind if Ms. Buffy Summers wanted to do me a favor or two…”

“Just do what you have to do to resolve the situation as I requested,” Ethan interrupted curtly. “Preferably this week. I want Angel O’Connor deported.” He had overheard his granddaughter once again discussing ‘Angel’ O’Connor on the phone just the other day which meant she wasn’t quite out of the young man’s clutches. He’d since taken to monitoring her expenses closely to assure himself that she wasn’t wasting money on the good-for-nothing Irish bastard; what more would he have to do?

Lindsey recognized anger and frustration. In his profession, one became a specialist at discerning body language, tone and manner. Ethan Rayne was too immoral to have a conscience, and too mired in illegal activities to be concerned about something as minor as breaking up a marriage; something else was causing his consternation. Money, he mused, could be one explanation. Ethan was certainly attached to the almighty dollar. Perhaps he thought Angel O’Connor was planning to steal the family fortune. Family, he supposed, could be the other, noting the picture of Cordelia Chase on the credenza behind him. He no doubt thought that his granddaughter was still involved with O’Connor. Lindsey controlled the smirk that threatened to pass at the notion of either of the two suppositions; if only Ethan knew the truth.

However, taking full advantage of the situation was another skill at which Lindsey excelled. Casually, he let out a slow, low whistle, “Expediency will cost you.”

“We agreed on a fee when you took on the task.”

“The rules of the game have changed.” Lindsey replied calmly. His casual lounging position in the chair belied the level of his attentiveness.

“I’ll find someone else then.” Ethan snapped brusquely, tapping his fingers on the desk.

“Be my guest,” the young P.I. countered silkily, his green eyes glittering coldly. He knew Ethan would be hard pressed to find someone else that he trusted at such short notice. He also knew as much about Ethan’s various business interests as Ethan himself; something that made him indispensable and invaluable. And exceptionally dangerous – for both of them.

“You’re extortion knows no bounds, Mr. McDonald.” Ethan murmured with a hint of admiration. “Is your business partner aware of your predilection for changing the rules in the middle of the game?”

“Are you suggesting that I’m pocketing the extra fee that I’m planning to charge?” Lindsey smoothly murmured as he came to his feet, “Because we can trade insults all day long.”

“Just do your job, Mr. McDonald,” Ethan ground out, irritation evident in every syllable. “Now get out of my office. I don’t wish to see you here again unless I call for you.”

***

The bench was tucked behind the art building, near the campus duck pond and gardens. It was off the main path between buildings, and offered as much privacy as could be expected on a busy college campus. The fresh air and sunshine were welcome, however, after a sleepless night of emotional turmoil.

“How did you find me?” Buffy asked as Angel sat down next to her. Her nerves were on edge, as if she were expecting news that might prove disastrous to her peace of mind.

He smiled. “Do you think I don’t know your schedule?”

“Oh. I guess I never thought about it.” She replied, toying with the petal of one fragrant rose. She knew his schedule by memory, but she never thought he had paid close attention to hers; it was a pleasant surprise. “So… you wanted to talk?”

“I did. I do.” He corrected quickly, glancing away briefly to collect his thoughts. It was the first time he had ever gone out of his way to apologize to a woman; he was way out of his comfort zone. “Buffy… about last night…I’m sorry.” He had only gone as far as Dublin’s pub downstairs, where he had sat in a back corner booth and nursed a couple of glasses of whisky for the better part of four hours, watching the various sports games in an attempt to distract himself from the anger and frustration that he felt.

She looked at him through half-lowered lashes. “I’m sorry too, Angel. I… well, I should trust you.” 

Angel sighed softly, raking his fingers through his hair. “I shouldn’t have left.”

“Well, no, not if we ever want to resolve anything when we argue.” Buffy agreed quietly, her shoulders rising almost imperceptibly and the corners of her lips lifting in a small smile, “And no matter how much we try, we will argue about something again – even if it’s just who left the cap off the toothpaste.”

“You left it off again?”  He mocked, a playful smile on his face. He reached for her hand, his fingers closing around hers and squeezing gently. His expression turned serious, “This is new for both of us, you know. We’ll just have to figure it out as we go.”

“I know.” She murmured softly in agreement.

“So, are we okay then?” he asked, his thumb rubbing the back of her hand gently. Too long inured to the possibility of love, he knew only that he intensely disliked the discord between he and Buffy and had sought to end it in the most expedient way possible.

“Angel?  I… I need to ask you a question,” she said in a hushed, hesitant voice, “and I need you to give me a direct answer.”

“Anything, Buffy. You only need to ask.” He bent slightly to look her in the eye.

“Are you…” She paused, searching for the right words. She pulled her hand from his grasp and sat back on the bench as if distance would make it easier. Twirling the silver band on her finger around nervously, she finally asked, “Are you still seeing – or planning to see - Cordelia?”

“No, I’m not.” Angel answered without hesitation. It surprised him that she would still have the question in her mind.

Buffy felt a significant measure of relief at hearing those words, yet still a corner of her brain demanded more. Her chin came up a fraction.  “What about Kate? Or anyone else?”

“I’m not interested in anyone but you.”

“Really?” She said happily, a warm glow of contentment spreading through her senses.

“Really. If we weren’t in the middle of campus, I’d find a better way to convince you of that.” He smiled, reaching out and recapturing her hand. He brought it to his lips and pressed a warm, soft kiss in her palm. “And you?”

“Me?” Buffy questioned in a sweetly innocent tone even as a shiver raced up her spine at the promise in his dark eyes and the feel of his lips against her skin.

“Yes, you. Is there someone else that you want to see? That guy Finn, maybe?” He asked much too impudently, his lips curving into a smile.

“Um, well, actually I’m glad you brought it up. There is this one guy…” She answered, glancing at him coyly out of the corner of her eye.

One eyebrow lifted in question; the impertinent look vanished from his expression.

“He’s tall. Big, too. And mean. Really mean.” She teased, recalling what Anya had admitted, without a trace of embarrassment, to having said to Angel when he visited Patina. Buffy had been chagrined to think that Angel might believe that was what she was telling people about him rather than something Anya had made up, but the Patina hostess had only smirked in response.

In a sudden economy of motion, Angel yanked Buffy forward and lifted her into his lap. She let out a small startled squeak as he grinned roguishly, “That so?”

Buffy returned his smile, her fingers tracing a small pattern on his shirt along his collarbone. Quietly, her tone serious, she asked, “Are you sure about this?”

“This?” He inquired innocently, bending to brush a light kiss on her lips. “Or us?”

“Either. Both.” She gazed up at his face as her hand crept along his shoulder to toy with the short hairs at the nape of his neck.

“I…” Angel paused, caught off guard by unfamiliar emotions. He didn’t know what, exactly, was prompting him. He only knew that happiness seemed oddly tangible when she was near. After only a few seconds, he finally found an answer, “As sure as I am about anything. What about you?”

“Yes. I’m sure.” She said, her heart beating wildly as her eyes searched his. Without thought, she leaned closer and pressed a kiss to his lips. Her eyes closed as they kissed, gently, sweetly.

“Come home with me,” he whispered several long seconds later, his breath warm on her lips. He brushed her hair back from her face tenderly, “for a little while?”

“I would… but I have to be at Patina at six. And if we go home…” She kissed him again, a delicate kiss that changed swiftly to the familiar, impatient passion that she adored. She sighed softly as the kiss ended and his lips traced a path over her cheek to her ear. “If we go home I might not make it to work.”

“So call in sick.” He urged, his palms drifting down her back as he nibbled on the sensitive shell of her ear. “Stay home with me.”

She shivered, goose bumps forming on her arms. She was trying hard to keep from simply sinking in his arms and giving herself up to his kisses. Another few minutes and she wouldn’t care that they were on a bench in the middle of the UC Sunnydale campus. “You’re so bad. Snyder will kill me if I call in only two hours before my shift.”

He pulled back and dropped a kiss on her nose. He knew her strong sense of responsibility and her determination to always meet her obligations. “Okay...” Reluctantly he lifted her from his lap and sat her on her feet, then stood next to her taking her hand in his. “Then I’ll meet you at the restaurant tonight when you get off.”

Buffy smiled up at him as they made their way across campus to the library.

A sweet affinity quite separate from lust pervaded both their senses that afternoon.

***

Angel was in good humor as he walked through the gated patio and into Patina. He joked with Anya for a few minutes before he made his way to the sparsely crowded bar. He was almost an hour early, so he had plenty of time to kill. Ordering a drink, he leaned against the bar and casually glanced through the shadowed interior of the lounge area. His eyes narrowed as he spotted a familiar figure sitting at a table along the back wall. Picking up his drink, he walked toward the table where the man was seated.

“McDonald,” Angel said brusquely, his tone unwelcoming.

“Ah, wasn’t sure you’d remember me, what with the crowd at the Kendall’s party and all,” Lindsey replied placidly, gesturing to the chair across from him, “Have a seat.”

Angel ignored the offered chair, giving it only a cursory glance before returning his gaze to Lindsey’s face. “I tend to remember the guys that try to pick up my wife,” he declared insolently, a hint of a challenge in his voice. He vaguely remembered that Anya had mentioned that she was dating Lindsey, but it didn’t stop the irrational feelings that coursed through his system upon seeing the guy in relatively close proximity to Buffy - again. “What are you doing here?”

Lindsey shrugged and held up his beer in answer before taking a healthy drink. “Suit yourself. Though I thought you might be interested in shootin’ the breeze for a while. You’ve got what? An hour or so to wait until the missus is off?”

“Not sure I care to know why you know Buffy’s schedule. That could be…” Angel replied, his smile urbane, his voice too soft, deadly provocation in his gaze. He placed one foot on the chair and leaned forward, “unhealthy.”

“Maybe,” He acknowledged his eyebrows quirking upward slightly, the slight flare of his eyes the only perceptible sign of any unease. The vehemence in Angel’s tone surprised him a little, but then Lindsey had been in plenty of difficult spots; it took a hell of a lot more than words and implied threats to truly ruffle his feathers.

Lindsey waved a hand to signal the waiter working the bar, “We could both use another drink,” he returned calmly as he gestured for another round of drinks for both of them. He drank down the last of his beer and sat the bottle on the table with a solid thud before returning his gaze to Angel’s face. “It’s up to you, but since what I have to say concerns your hot little wife…” he nodded in the direction of the restaurant where Buffy could now be seen delivering plates of food to one of her tables, “I’m thinking you might want to reconsider.”

After almost thirty seconds of deliberation, Angel reluctantly sat down.

***

Buffy was sitting in the center of the bed when Angel walked into the bedroom. One of her textbooks was open in her lap, her bare feet crossed beneath her.

“I didn’t know how long you’d be on the phone,” Buffy said almost apologetically, setting the book aside. The walk home from Patina together had been more than pleasant, as were the kisses that they had shared on the couch after they had arrived home. “Is everything okay?”

Angel had reluctantly answered the phone when his Uncle Giles voice was heard on the machine, concerned that a late call meant problems. Buffy had gone in the bedroom to give him privacy for the call, though she was a little concerned that it now seemed presumptuous.

Closing the door softly behind him, Angel replied, “Fine. Apparently I’m going to have a cousin. Jenny’s about six weeks pregnant.”

“Ah. That’s great!” She smiled and fell back on the pillows in a playful sprawl. Abruptly she rolled over on her side, her eyes searching his. “That is… great, right?”

“Yes. They’re very happy about it,” he answered, glancing over at the clock near the bed. “It’s late. Are you tired?”

“A little...” Buffy replied softly, her nerves tingling in now familiar anticipation as he moved toward her.

He stood at the side of the bed and held out his hand. Their fingers touched then their hands melded together, their fingers interlacing, “You can sleep here… with me…” His tone was soft, cajoling.

“I don’t know…” Buffy swallowed, suddenly nervous. Still, a sweeping rush of warmth swept through her at the thought, at Angel’s warm heated gaze. “I’m not sure… I mean…”

“We don’t have to make love.” He watched her carefully, noting the heightened color in her cheeks. “But I would like to kiss you. To touch you.”

Her direct gaze held his for a moment.  Without releasing his hand, she reached over with her other hand and turned off the light. Deliberately, she moved back on the bed to make room for him.

“Angel,” Buffy ventured softly as she slid into his arms, snuggling into his tall, powerful frame, still tautly muscled despite the lounging pose. His dark eyes were watching her with a now familiar intensity. How would it feel to be surrounded by his potent virility and strength? To feel him deep inside her?  What would it be like to know him in such intimate detail?  An answering spiral of heat melted downward within her and pooled between her legs. “I want to, you know. That is, I want to make love to you. I just… I’ve never…”

“I know. Kiss me,” he murmured encouragingly, running his palm up her back to cup the back of her head. Bending his head low, his lips touched her lightly before his tongue slipped between her lips, adding to the heated trail of fire curling inside her. His arms tightened, pulling her more securely against him.

Buffy responding willingly, exulting in the elusive, steadily building desire. Her mouth opened wider, her tongue twining with his, boldly encouraging him to take more.

Angel’s hands roamed over her body, reacquainting himself with her curves as his mouth devoured hers. He wanted her with a primitive emotion that demanded to be sated; but not tonight. First, he wanted her trust. He had told her that they would not make love tonight, and he would keep his promise. But soon he would have her beneath him in this very bed…

Swiftly, his fingers unbuttoned the white shirt that she wore and slipped it back over her shoulders. He tossed it somewhere off the side of the bed, and his hands returned expeditiously to the zipper on her skirt. Buffy helped him shimmy it down her hips and off to join her shirt on the floor.

“You feel good…” Buffy murmured breathlessly, her hand returning to his shoulder and slipping under his collar to curl around his nape. Her fingers toyed with the short hairs as she lifted her lips to his once again.

Kissing her hungrily, Angel cupped her breast in his hand. Though the thin silk of her bra, he stroked and caressed the firm mound, teasing the taut peak of her nipple with the brushing sweep of his thumb.

Reaching for the top button on his shirt, Buffy undid it slowly. Her hands moved with increasing speed down the next few buttons, stopping when she reached his belt. She murmured softly, the sound trapped between their lips. In response, Angel shifted back slightly, and Buffy tugged his shirt out of his pants. Unfastening the few remaining buttons, she slid the slick material down his arms, brushing her palms over his powerful shoulders in a slow caress.

Breaking their kiss, Angel shrugged out of his shirt, tossing it aside carelessly. Returning to Buffy, he brushed open-mouthed kisses along her cheek, moving down her throat to linger at her shoulder. He eased the strap of her bra down her arm, pulling the soft silk away from her breast to stroke her bare flesh. A few seconds later, Buffy impatiently unclasped her bra and tugged it off to join the rest of her clothing on the floor.

His hands shifted on her body, rolling her on her back as his lips returned to hers in a heated, intrusive kiss. He settled between her thighs, his longer, harder frame pressing her down into the soft mattress.

Beneath him, Buffy twined her arms around Angel’s neck holding him close. Their kisses grew heady; more demanding. When he at last lifted his head, she inhaled deeply, filling her starved lungs.

Angel nipped playfully at her throat as he slowly moved lower; her nerves tightened in anticipation, her nipples tingling as she waited for the addictive pleasure of his mouth. He looked up her briefly, his lips curving into a knowing and sure smile, before he slowly lowered his head to her breasts.

Buffy mewled softly, sinking her fingers into the thick mass of his hair as she gave herself up to the intoxicating play of his lips and tongue, the hot wet suction of his mouth. Her need grew steadily as he caressed then tweaked the tight aching peaks of her nipples, pressing hot kisses to every inch of the soft skin surrounding them as he leisurely worshiped her body. She arched into his mouth, her low breathy gasps filling the room as her fingers clenched tightly, holding him close.

He shifted lower, his lips trailing down her abdomen with warm, wet kisses. One hand still stroked her breasts, massaging, squeezing, caressing. He paused briefly when he reached her navel, stopping to circle it with this tongue. The fingers of one hand drifted along her ribs then down her waist to stop at the lacy elastic of her panties on one hip.

Breathless, Buffy tensed, wondering what he was intending. Her fingers flexed, and she opened her eyes to look down at him.

Angel lifted his head, and their eyes met; hers were lambent and luminous, his were dark and fathomless in the shadowy bedroom. Both pairs were filled with longing and desire.

He moved lower on the bed, parting her legs further to accommodate his wide shoulders. His hand glided along her thigh, over her hip to rest on her stomach, his palm, firm and possessive on her warm, soft skin. Buffy couldn’t take her eyes from his, even as he reached for the elastic on her hips and began to peel the tiny lace panties down her legs.

Her breath strangled in her throat even as she lifted her hips and helped him remove her last article of clothing, leaving her nude before him. Her head dropped back to the bed as his fingers brushed her curls, slowly, artfully. He caressed, stroked, and finally probed, his finger slipping inside just enough to tease, to send her frenzied senses scrambling.

Under his skilled touch, her body came to life. Her hips lifted in anticipation of each caress, her nerves tightening and her muscles tensing. Angel pushed her higher, caressing the sensitive nub of her clit with his thumb as his finger slipped steadily deeper in her now slick and swollen folds. Leaning forward, he brushed her thigh with a soft kiss.

At the first touch of his lips between her legs, Buffy lost all capacity to think. A tidal wave of exquisite sensation surged and swept through her, sending her pulse racing and her heart hammering in her chest. She wanted to protest the intimate act, but instead moaned as the wicked pleasure threatened to engulf her. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but the pleasure he brought her could not be denied.

Seemingly of their own accord, her hips writhed and twisted, but his hands closed over them, holding her still. Buffy squirmed helplessly, mewling and fighting for breath as he lapped at her, stroking her with his tongue and showing her the shared pleasure that could be found in such an intimate act.  Her embarrassment melted away with the sheer ecstasy as he continued the delicious torment.

“Angel.” His name escaped her lips on a breathy sigh. The implosion of sensation caught her suddenly and a high, keening cry escaped her lips as she fractured; hurled into a sensual, explosive ecstasy where, for that one blinding moment, nothing mattered but the intense, glorious pleasure.

Exultant, Angel savored her release and the powerful contractions that rippled through her body as he continued his erotic licking caresses. He waited for the last tremor to subside before he eased back and lifted his head.

Ignoring the intense ache in his groin, he studied the now still form of his wife. She was gloriously spent, dazed, and without a doubt, sated. His eyes traveled over her naked form with possessive fervor. He dropped a kiss on her stomach as he moved to her side. Stripping off all but his boxers – a small barrier of self-control – he lay next to her, pulling her against his side. 

Covering them with the thin sheet and blanket, he closed his eyes and slept.

**

At the loud knock, Gunn rose to his feet and walked toward the door, his eyes never leaving the pre-game coverage of the basketball game that was on TV. It was one of the few games between the Clippers and the Lakers and was, despite being pre-season, expected to be tense due to the intense local rivalry between the two teams.

Fred was in the back of the rented house, currently painting the bedroom for the third time having decided that neither “Bellflower Blue” nor “Caspian Sea” was exactly the right shade of blue. “Lynx Lake” was, however, looking promising.

“Hey.” Gunn greeted as he opened the door to see Angel, Wes and Doyle. Angel was carrying a brown grocery bag, Doyle held a twelve pack of beer in each hand, and Wes carried a pizza box. The guys had agreed to get together for the Tuesday night game several weeks ago and fortunately, everyone’s schedule cooperated. “’Bout time, game’s about to start.”

“Is that paint I smell?” Wesley asked with a frown as the guys followed Gunn to the dining table that sat at one end of the combined living room and dining area.

“Yeah, Fred’s painting the bedroom. Again.” Gunn answered with a slight roll of his eyes. “The yellow that was in there when we moved in was bad Feng Shui – or so she says - and the previous two shades of blue were not quite the right color to rebalance the room or some such thing.” His expression mirrored his thoughts, as he obviously didn’t share his girlfriend’s objections to the colors or her unwavering perseverance to correct the matter.

“Shouldn’t you be helping?” Angel questioned as he took the chips and salsa out of the bag and set them on the table. Opening a bag of corn chips, he popped one in his mouth, catching the incredulous stares of his friends.

“Helping? With the Clippers and Lakers starting in ten minutes?” Gunn said with a facetious lift of his brows, “Are you kiddin’ me?”

“You’re asking the wrong guy,” Doyle asserted with a grin, “Angel there missed the Rangers and Portstewart to take the wife out to dinner.”

“No shit?!” Gunn exclaimed laughingly, taking the two beers that Wes handed him and passing one to Doyle and the other to Angel.

“Oh, but it was worth it.” Angel replied with a shrug, his smile sportive. 

“You missed that game? Can you still call yourself Irish?” Wes chimed in with a wink, picking up the bottle opener and popping the metal cap off his beer.

“Yo, speaking of that,” Gunn interrupted, slapping his hands together. “Dr. Walsh, your friend from the BCIS, came by yesterday.”

“Yeah?” Angel said curiously, pausing in lifting the bottle in his hand to his mouth.

“That is one uptight woman.” Gunn declared with a shake of his head. “And when did they change their name from the INS? I musta missed that memo…”

“What’d she say?” Angel asked calmly, though his shoulders tensed.

“She asked some questions about how you and Buffy met, why you married, if I thought your behavior was ‘typical’…”

“Sounds similar to what she asked me,” Wes nodded agreeably, glancing back at Angel.

“She gave me the distinct impression that she thinks you got married just to stay in the country.” Gunn said seriously, taking the bottle opener from Wes and opening his own beer.

Angel searched for the right thing to say. He had married Buffy to stay in the country; but that seemed so long ago now, things had changed so much since then. Still, for reasons he couldn’t quite discern, he didn’t want to tell his friends that – at least not yet. “So what’d you tell her?”

“Well, I started to tell her how I could never imagine you married, but instead I told her the truth – that I’ve never seen a man as whipped as you.” Gunn joked, holding up his beer in mock toast, “One look at Buffy and you were done for.”

“Next sound was wedding bells and he’s not been the same since.” Wes added with a laugh, clinking bottles with Gunn before slapping Angel companionably on the shoulder.

“Game’s starting.” Doyle said, glancing at the television as he loaded his plate with a combination of pizza, chips, and salsa. “But I think he’s onto something there,” He added, gesturing toward Gunn with his beer bottle, as he looked directly at Angel, “of course, it’s not hard to figure out, you know. No doubt he’s endured hours of hearing about the wonder that is Buffy when he’s attempting to study criminal law with you that’s led to that conclusion.  And that’s without being drug out of bed at the crack of dawn to watch you run off your sexual frustration.”

“Uh, thanks… I think.” Angel returned with a touch of friendly sarcasm in his voice. 

He endured their good-natured teasing about his marriage and his obvious affection for his wife for another twenty minutes before the conversation finally shifted to sports and the game.

*** Two days later ***

Angel walked through the door just after five o’clock, carrying a small bouquet of flowers. As expected, Buffy was sitting on the couch studying – her typical position most often when she was home.

“Oh, Angel, they’re beautiful. You shouldn’t have.” Buffy said with a smile as she took the elaborate paper wrapped arrangement of red and white blooms from him and started toward the kitchen. She inhaled the delicate fragrance of the roses and lilies as she reached for a glass pitcher that was to serve as a makeshift vase.

“It’s a special occasion.” He leaned against the counter behind her, watching her. “And we’re going out.”

“Really?”  She turned from the sink to look at him. “Which occasion would that be?”

“It’s our five month anniversary.” Angel grinned as he crossed one leg over the other at the ankle, “Don’t tell me you forgot.”

“I didn’t forget… exactly.” Buffy murmured in reply, her heart suddenly beating wildly in her chest. She was taken by surprise that he remembered, since they had never done anything to mark the occasion before. She was also suddenly wishing she had some gift to give him in return.

“I thought we’d go down to the beach. There’s a great hotdog stand at the pier… and if you want dessert, there’s cotton candy…” His expression was playful. He knew though, how much she loved the beach, she had mentioned it several times.

“Wow, hotdogs and cotton candy. You’re going all out here, aren’t you?” Buffy teased, setting the flowers on the counter with a proud smile. Stepping over to where Angel stood, she went into his arms easily, naturally.

“Of course. Five month anniversaries don’t come along every day.” He dropped a kiss on her nose, reminded suddenly of his Uncle’s words earlier when he had happened to mention the date and occasion in their brief phone conversation. With a smile in his voice, Giles had said something to the effect of ‘when it hits, you’ll know it’.  Not that Angel was exactly admitting that anything had hit.

“I should change then,” Buffy said, feeling absurdly happy, “if we’re going out.”

“You look great.” Angel murmured huskily, his eyes drifting lazily over the baby blue figure hugging sundress that she wore. The thin straps revealed her tan shoulders in a way that beckoned for him to slide them down; the skirt was decorated with flowers, giving it a very feminine, flirty look. “Just wear that.”

When they arrived at the restaurant Angel selected, they were shown to an intimate table in the corner near the window with a magnificent view of the ocean and sunset.  Dinner was casual but superb, conversation flowed easily, Angel was endearingly sweet, and by the end of the meal, Buffy felt as if she had walked into a fairytale – indulged and pampered by the handsome prince.  Afterwards, they took a walk along the pier and then down the beach, enjoying the late fall warmth of the evening and each other’s company.

“This is all a little overwhelming,” Buffy said softly, tucked securely in the curve of Angel’s arm as they sat at the edge of the water on a quiet stretch of beach. In the pink-hued, slowly darkening sky, the lapping of the waves was soothing as were the pervasive salt tang of the air and the melodic and repetitive call of the seagulls. They were familiar sights and sounds that Buffy had always found a calming respite, particularly during her mother’s illness; now they took on new meaning sharing them with Angel.

“The ocean?”

“No, you.” She said with a smile, brushing her hair out of her eyes, “I keep thinking I’m dreaming. Pinch me.”

“I’ll be happy to, babe, but let’s wait until we get home,” Angel said with a smile. His arms tightened and he pulled her closer, leaning down to nuzzle her ear, “then I’ll pinch you wherever you want.” 

“Mmm… promises.” Buffy murmured softly, her hand sliding up his back as she leaned her head against his arm.

“What do you say about taking the weekend off?” His voice was soft and low, his fingers moving in a subtle caress on her ribs.

“What did you have in mind?” Leaning back slightly, Buffy looked up at him from under her lashes.

His eyes, darker in the fading light, met hers. Her head tilted back even further as a tiny frisson of heat crept up her spine at the mesmerizing look. Raising his hand, his fingertips skimmed her cheek before moving along her jaw, barely touching. Bending, Angel lowered his head and brushed her lips with a butterfly light kiss. “I was thinking about you and me…”

The barest touch of his lips on hers brought forth the now familiar ache of want. He nibbled gently at her lips, lingeringly before his mouth settled on hers. Angling his head, the pressure of his lips increased as he deepened the kiss. 

There was magic in the air, surrounding them as desire rose, hot and enthralling and whirled through her. The tip of his tongue traced her lips, caressing. Melting against him, she parted her lips on a soft sigh and willingly delighted in the intimate caress as his tongue slipped into her mouth to twine with hers.

Several heated kisses later, Angel finally drew back.

Her senses reeling, Buffy opened her eyes and studied his face.

“I was thinking about you and me… spending the weekend together… in bed,” he murmured softly, running his palm down her back, stroking soothingly, seductively. His breath was warm against her ear as he added, “Naked. Skin to skin.”

Buffy’s breath hitched slightly, and she closed her eyes.

“I want to spend the entire weekend making love to you,” He whispered the words against her throat as he planted soft, open-mouthed kisses along the smooth column, “kissing you, touching you, exploring every delicious inch of you. I want to be inside you.” 

The husky words set her nerves on edge and sent her heart racing; her skin tingled. She shivered.

He turned, his lips returning to hers with a deep, soul-stirring kiss as he eased her down on the soft sand. His mouth moved on hers in a primitive, elemental call to her senses.

Buffy responded eagerly, her tongue slipping in his mouth to tangle with his as mind-whirling anticipation surged with forceful intensity.

The desire that had been building between them for weeks, smoldered, flared then exploded, the flames licking greedily and devouring any last trace of resistance.  Buffy twined her arms around his neck, wanting more of the beckoning pleasure.  She pressed herself against him in unconscious entreaty, her hips rocking unconsciously against the powerful body intimately pressed to hers, seeking to ease her hunger.

Their lips parted for less than a heartbeat before they met again with a steadily mounting, compelling urgency. Tongues twined, sliding sensuously together. Moving one hand to his shoulder, Buffy flexed her fingers in a desperate attempt to get closer. Angel shifted slightly and his muscles flexed beneath her hand, his strength, his body fascinating her.

Their kiss changed from hungry to ravenous; Angel’s hand crept up her waist and closed over her breast. His fingers kneaded and stroked as lightening raced through her veins; his thumb found the tight peak of her nipple, rubbing in delicate caress.

Buffy hauled in a gasping breath as his mouth moved to her throat. Giddy, her senses reeling, she arched her back and pressed more firmly into his caressing hand.

A nearby shout brought them to their senses.

Angel lifted his head, his arms tightening protectively as he looked up in the direction of the noise. Panting softly and still clinging to him, Buffy followed his gaze.  A short distance down the beach a raucous group was setting up an evening party spot.

With a sigh, he returned his gaze to her face, “Ready to go home?”

“Soon,” Buffy murmured softly as she pulled his head back down to hers. She knew only that she wanted more of him; she was unconcerned about the group in sight of them on the beach.

There was a hunger in their kisses, an unleashed passion that lurked just below the surface clamoring for release. Angel’s tongue tangled with hers, intimately enticing, before settling into a slow, repetitive probing rhythm.

How much longer they stayed there, kissing, touching, Buffy couldn’t say; when they finally separated she had lost touch with the world.

The white of Angel’s teeth gleamed in the dark. “I’ll be counting down the hours until the weekend…”  He took her mouth in one last, searching kiss before pushing back and coming to his feet.  Extending his hand, he helped her up and began brushing the sand from her clothing.

She blinked up at him, her eyes luminous in the dim light. Reaching up, she traced the line of his brow with her fingertips. “By my watch the weekend starts in about eighteen hours, give or take a few minutes.”

One eyebrow quirking upward, Angel reached for her hand. “I can’t wait.”

“Mmm… me either.” Buffy murmured softly, returning his smile. “Now what excuse do you think I should give Snyder?”

Walking hand in hand, they made their way back to the car.

**

“So what’s the important shopping situation?” Willow questioned as she dropped her book bag and purse in the back seat of Buffy’s jeep.

“I need… something. For tonight.” Buffy replied, looking in the rearview mirror, then the side mirror, before pulling away from the curb and into the early afternoon traffic. She had called Willow early that morning and asked if she’d mind missing their afternoon classes in order to hit the mall and a few boutiques.

“Something, huh? Well that narrows it down.” The red-head laughed in response, glancing at her friend out of the corner of her eye.

“Something …” Buffy searched for the appropriate word as she drove through the intersection and turned right, heading toward downtown Sunnydale. Her voice dropped an octave, “sexy.”

“Sexy? Are we talking ‘going out and knocking somebody’s socks off’ dressy sexy here?” Willow asked with an impish gleam in her eye. She flipped down the sun visor and checked her teeth in the small mirror.

“Yes…” The petite blonde answered, but then amended, “Well, but not the going out part. And maybe more than socks.”

“Oh-oh-oh!” Willow squealed animatedly, snapping the visor up and turning toward her best friend. “You mean sexy sexy. So then you and Angel, you’re gonna… you know?”

“I think so… I mean yeah, we are.” Buffy chewed her lower lip thoughtfully as she scanned the row of cars in search of a parking spot. “And I want something special to wear.”

“Tonight? You’re going to-to do it tonight?” The red-haired girl pointed off to the right, “There’s one. That car’s leaving. Are you going someplace special? Details, I want details. Well, not all of them, but some.”

“I took off from Patina this weekend, so we’re spending it together – just me and Angel.” The young blonde answered as she guided the car into the parking spot along the curb. “I don’t think we’re going anywhere. At least if we are, Angel didn’t say…”

“Wow, Buffy, wow! I knew you and Angel had a thing… you know, a good thing. I’m really happy for you.”

“Thanks Will.” Buffy smiled as she opened the door and got out of the car.

“So where are we going first?” Willow asked cheerfully, shielding her eyes from the glare of the afternoon sun.

“I thought we’d try Chloe’s and Bonne Nuit then maybe head over to the mall to Victoria’s Secret and La Petit Coquette,” Buffy said happily, looping her arm through Willow’s as they started down the street.

Laughing, Willow teased, “You know, he’s only going to let you wear whatever it is that you buy for only like ten minutes, right?”

“Well then I want to look really, really good for those ten minutes.” The petite blonde returned with an answering laugh and a faint blush.

The afternoon passed in a whirl as the two women made their way to the various shops. Buffy tried on dozens of lacy, frothy, silky confections before deciding on a sensual ivory silk gown with a decorative lace bodice, a high side slit and low plunging back. In addition, Willow talked her into buying a light pink mesh baby-doll with black lace trim and a black embroidered merry widow style corset and sheer black stockings. She wasn’t entirely sure she’d ever wear the latter, but then the thought of Angel’s jaw dropping – as Willow assured her that it definitely would if she wore it – definitely gave her a wicked urge to give it a try.  

***

Angel glanced up from the book in his lap and looked out the window. Just as Buffy had requested when she had gotten home, he was staying away from the bedroom while she did – whatever it was she was doing – in preparation for their evening. He had picked up a book to read, but instead his mind had been focused on his now-habitual obsession: his wife.

Her image rose in his mind – her smile that flirted across her lips when she looked at him, her beautiful hazel green eyes that watched him with such intensity, her soft, rich golden hair and petite but oh-so-perfect figure… the taut coral nipples that beckoned for his lips, the warm, wet honeyed heat of her delicate core…

Standing, he paced over to the window and attempted to curb his lusty thoughts. His desire for his wife had grown stronger, if that was even possible, in the last few days. He wanted her more than he could ever recall wanting someone – or even something – before – yet even as he wanted to ease the ache in his body, he questioned if there was something more he could do to make this night special for her. Should he have taken her away, to some romantic resort? At the very least, he could still take her out to a nice, elegant dinner… but where?

“Angel?”

Her soft voice interrupted his thoughts and he turned from the window. Buffy stood near the sofa, still in the shadows as the sunlight streamed in the windows behind him.

When she came forward, into view, Angel’s breath caught in his throat, his every muscle tensing, rigid with… not shock exactly, but something far greater than surprise. He swallowed hard, his gaze locked on her as he took in what she was – and wasn’t – wearing. The ivory gown clung seductively to her figure, in no way concealed by the diaphanous robe hanging open from her shoulders.

She walked toward him, one tan, slim leg revealed by the high, side slit with each step. He couldn’t move, couldn’t take his eyes off of her; his entire focus was on the woman standing in front of him, her body so beautifully and temptingly displayed.

Buffy didn’t stop until she reached him, the whisper soft silk swirling around her. Meeting his gaze directly, expectantly, she slid one hand up his arm to his shoulder. Her other palm splayed flat on his chest.

Angel’s control was tenuous; taking a deep breath, he managed to choke out, “Are you sure… we could go to dinner… first.”

Swaying closer, her thighs brushing his, her breasts pressing into his chest, she smiled a sweet, understanding, patronizing smile. There was more than a hint of challenge in her eyes. Her gaze dropped to his lips, “I’m not hungry… for food.”

Without conscious thought, he lifted his hands to rest on the gentle curve of her hips. He fought back the desire to simply haul her close, toss her on the nearby table and ease the fierce ache in his body. It was a desire infinitely stronger, more compelling than anything he had felt before.

Slipping her arms around his neck, Buffy rose up on her tiptoes and drew his head down to hers. When her lips were almost touching his, she murmured softly, “Stop thinking. Just-”

Angel covered her lips with his, stopping her words. The kiss was hungry, demanding as he gave up trying to control his desire for his wife.  His hands slid over the smooth silk, caressing her hips before his arms closed around her, dragging her closer, molding her small frame into his body.

Buffy clung to him avidly, returning his kisses, flagrantly inviting him to seize, to take, to claim. With her heart pounding rapidly in her chest, she felt as though she had been waiting for this moment her entire life.

Without breaking their kiss, Angel tightened his arms around her and lifted her in his arms. He walked slowly toward the bedroom, stopping every few steps as if taking time to savor each kiss.

Finally reaching the bed, he unhurriedly lowered her so that she was kneeling, facing him. His hands roved over her body beneath the robe, cupping her bottom, pressing her firmly against the rigid length of his erection, while his tongue continued to plunder her mouth.

Senses whirling, Buffy drew back from the kiss. “Your clothes,” she murmured, her voice coming out in breathy gasps, as she reached for the buttons of his shirt.

Suddenly impatient, Angel pulled the shirt out his pants and helped with the buttons. When she slid the shirt back over his shoulders, he shrugged it off and tossed it aside with barely restrained violence.

Cupping her face with his palms, he tilted her face to look up at him. Buffy studied his eyes, seeing clearly the dark, burning passion, the hint of wildness. For her. It was a heady feeling, an aphrodisiac in fact, to know that she could affect him so powerfully.

He bent his head, nuzzling her jaw. “You’re beautiful.”

Turning her head, she enticed his lips back to hers with an eager kiss.  Her hands swept over the smooth skin of his chest, splayed and touched, searched and grasped – delighting in the feel of the hot skin, the tense and rigid muscles. The long muscles of his back flexed as her wandering hands slipped around him, acquainting herself with his body. Impulsively, she broke off their kiss and ran her mouth down his neck. Her lips and tongue followed where her hands had been only seconds before, exploring and tasting, filling her senses with him.

Angel buried his hands in her hair as she moved lower, teasing his flat nipples with small, nipping bites then alternatively soothing them with laving licks of her tongue. Playfully, she traced his collarbone with her tongue, stopping to lave at the pulse beat in his throat for several long seconds before sucking the skin between her teeth. Her hands, never still, danced along his ribs, slipping lower to stop at the waistband of his pants. He froze, breath held, as she unbuckled his belt, then grappled with the button, releasing it with a satisfied sigh. A small groan escaped his lips when she lightly skimmed the line of his erection with her fingers.

Glancing up at his face, Buffy could tell that his attention had shifted. His breathing was shallow, his senses distracted by her subtle movements as she steadily lowered his zipper. After only a pulse beat of hesitation, she reached between the gaping material to find him, hard as she expected, yet the velvety smooth skin was hotter than she had anticipated. She dropped a kiss on his shoulder as her questing fingers circled the solid length of his cock, squeezing gently. Taking her time, she varied her strokes, her rhythm and her grip, trying to discern what he liked best; how to please him. And, she thought wickedly, glancing up at his face through the fringe of her lashes, how to provoke him.

Tugging gently at her hair, Angel pulled her face back to his, and his lips found hers in a deep, searching kiss. She was only vaguely aware of him stripping the robe from her shoulders, pausing in her ministrations and releasing him only long enough to pass the smooth material over her hand and off to pool on the floor at their feet.

Angel’s control grew more uncertain with each passing second; her every touch, if somewhat lacking in subtlety or finesse due to her inexperience, was guided by instinct and enthusiasm – and was, from his perspective, just shy of heaven.  Her body - warm and supple beneath his hands – and, soon, spread beneath him in his bed - would, however, be the ultimate ecstasy. The licking flame of anticipation to take her rode him hard, causing a surge of pure unadulterated lust to race through his body, hardening and lengthening the part of his anatomy that she currently held in her hand.

Buffy felt it, her thumb sweeping over the head of his erection to massage the few drops of liquid evidence of his desire into his skin. After a few seconds, he captured her wrist, dragging her hand away from him. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her closer. She sucked eagerly on his probing tongue as he cupped her bottom, lifting her into him as he devoured her mouth in a drugging kiss that sent her senses reeling.  Completely unresisting, Buffy sank into his arms, reveling in the feel of his body against hers, the silken gown offering no real barrier to sensation.

Breaking their kiss, Angel lowered his head at the same time he arched Buffy back over one strong arm. His mouth covered one pebbled nipple through the silky fabric and he suckled fiercely.

Gasping, Buffy dropped her head back even as she buried her fingers in Angel’s hair in an attempt to steady herself. After almost a minute, he tugged the straps of the gown down, baring her to his gaze. His arm tightened on her waist as he returned his lips to her bare skin. He licked and suckled – torturing the taut peaks for several long minutes, his mouth hot on her skin.  His other hand pushed the material of her gown lower, growing impatient when it stalled at her hips – the fitted gown designed to be pulled over her head.

Angel drew back and straightened, his gaze fixed on her swollen nipples. Buffy helped him pull the gown over her head. It was only then that she realized that he had somehow kicked off his shoes and removed his pants.  As naked as she, he was now standing in front of her. She licked her lips and swallowed hard, a momentary shiver of fear passing through her.

Pushing it aside, Buffy reached for him. Angel once more drew her back in his arms, his lips finding hers again as his hands roamed over her curves with explicit intention. She matched him kiss for kiss as their desire rose higher, into a raging, unfettered need.

Buffy sighed softly and clutched him closer, delighting in the feel of his hard body against hers, hot and urgent, his desire for her never more evident than it was tonight. It swept away her last vestige of modesty and any remaining reservations.

Urging her back on the bed, Angel lifted one knee and parted her thighs. Her breath hitched, tangling in her throat as his knee brushed the sensitive apex gently, deliberately pressing against the neatly trimmed curls with a steady, knowing pressure. His clever fingers replaced his knee as she melted back into the bed. He teased, retreated, only to return and tease again until she was helplessly clinging to his shoulders, just on the brink of climax.

Her nerves tight with anticipation, she waited as he shifted away to draw something out of the table near the bed.  She watched with interest as he rolled the latex sheath over his erection before joining her on the bed.

The touch of his thighs, parting hers, reinforced the intimacy of the situation and sent her senses tumbling in disarray. Arms braced, Angel held himself over her. He shifted fractionally, and she felt the touch of the hard, blunt head press against her intimately. He moved again, pressing forward, and she felt the hard strength parting her swollen, slippery folds. Beneath him, Buffy tensed.

Angel stopped, every muscle taut, and glanced at Buffy’s face. He planted soft kisses on her lips, her eyes, her cheeks, as his hips flexed, sliding forward just a little. He withdrew slightly and she whimpered, clutching at him.

“Easy,” He whispered softly, reversing direction and pushing forward again in shallow, tantalizing thrusts.

Buffy sucked in a breath, exhaling softly as he withdrew again. Slowly, she began to relax, growing accustomed to the size and feel of him.

Angel lowered his head; Buffy lifted her lips to meet his. He kissed her lightly, his attention still focused on the steady flexing of his hips, gliding forward ever so slightly before retreating to begin the pattern anew.

Gradually she began to respond, her hips rising to meet him, her body arching into him, wanting more. Bit by bit, the ache threatened to consume her, leaving her wet and open and so hungry with desire, that she whimpered softly and dug her fingernails into his back when he attempted to withdrawal from her again.

Angel kissed her ravenously, his tongue deep in her mouth, plundering. She felt him shift his hips again, his weight settling more heavily on her. After a brief hesitation, he thrust forward powerfully.

Buffy cried out softly, the sound captured his mouth. He drove forward, stretching her, impaling her deeply until he was seated to the hilt.  She struggled for breath, struggled to comprehend the feel of him, hard and hot and strong, embedded deep with in her, filling her more completely than she imagined possible.

Lifting his head, Angel studied her face. He licked away the single tear that leaked from her eye as he murmured soft words against her skin, love words, seductive words that told her how good she felt, how much he wanted her. When he finally drew back and pressed in again, she tensed, expecting the same sharp pain. Instead, she was surprised to feel only a minor twinge of discomfort; he moved again, slow and steady, and by degrees her defensive tension began to unwind.

As she relaxed, the intimacy of the moment captured her. She gradually became aware of her nipples brushing the smooth hot skin of his chest as she writhed beneath him, the delicate brush of his hair against her cheek as he kissed her neck, the hard strength of his legs between hers…  Her earlier hunger began to return as passion stirred within her, reignited.

“Stay with me, babe,” he murmured as he withdrew completely, only to thrust forward more forcefully than before. A streaking rush of sensation shot through her at what she perceived to be more of a growled command, and she twined her arms around his neck, arching up to meet his next downward stroke.

Buffy tugged his head down, nibbling and biting at his lower lips as the relentless, repetitive movements fed the steady, growing whirlwind of desire. Restlessly they moved together as the unrestrained swell surged higher, the force frightening, thrilling and utterly compelling.

She arched wildly, taking him deeper, wanting him more intensely, satisfied only when he thrust harder, faster, even more powerfully than before. She keened softly, sinking her nails into his shoulders as their bodies merged and came together in desperate need. Could one die from such heated pleasure? She wondered briefly. She would have given anything in that moment to reach the elusive peak of desire that beckoned with steadily escalating urgency.

In the next instant she felt it; she let go of her hold on reality as her body imploded with shimmering sensation, the spark flashing through every quivering nerve to melt through her skin. Screaming his name, she reached that soul-shattering, unearthly, divine climax.

Angel dragged a deep breath into his lungs; his eyes closed tight as he felt the shuddering convulsions of her orgasm surround him. Driven by a need he could no longer control, an ache that had gone unfulfilled for what seemed like weeks now, he thrust hard and deep. Release came crashing through him with an unsurpassed intensity, leaving him spent and exhausted – and more deeply sated than he had ever been in his life.

**

With the machine turned on to answer calls on the first ring and turned down so that they didn’t have to hear the caller’s voice, the two lovers spent the weekend in blissful, isolated companionship. Angel made Buffy breakfast in bed, and in turn she smilingly fed him from her plate. They cuddled together and pretended to watch TV, spending more time kissing and searching out sensitive spots than watching whatever program was on.  They made love often, Angel showing Buffy the pleasurable delights that could be had in the shower, on the sofa and even once, on the kitchen table. Buffy, in turn, exerted a growing assertiveness and growing abandon in her sexuality that Angel found both endearing and incredibly seductive.

When the alarm went off Monday morning, a cruel reminder that their pleasurable weekend interlude was over, Angel reluctantly let Buffy slip out of his grasp.

Tired but smiling, she gave Angel a lingering goodbye kiss at the door before she headed out to teach her kickboxing class.  She had only reached the bottom step, before she turned and raced back up the stairs. 

Faith owed her several times over; surely the brunette wouldn’t mind teaching her class this morning. 

Twenty minutes later Buffy was happily ensconced back in bed, legs parted and draped over her husband's shoulders as he showed his appreciation for her return. 

Buffy smiled, half listening to the joking barbs that were being bantered back and forth between the guys as their ritual poker game gradually grew more competitive. It was the first time that she had been home when Angel hosted the monthly poker game, so it was the first time she had a chance to hear the friendly – but loud – rivalry that went on between the guys.

She was baking chocolate chip cookies to take over to Willow’s as a comfort present of sorts since Oz was going to be gone over a week. The Dingoes were playing a few gigs in Northern California, and Willow seemed particularly down about his absence this time, particularly with Buffy spending more of her free time with Angel.

Putting the bowl that had contained the cookie dough in the sink, Buffy rinsed it out then set it aside to wash.  She glanced over her shoulder as Angel entered the kitchen. It was apparently his turn to retrieve another round of beers.

“Cookies smell great. Are you going to leave me some?” He teased, veering from his path to the refrigerator to stand in front of her.

“Maybe. If you’re good.” She smiled up at him, reaching around to grab the oven mitt from the counter behind him.

“I’m always good, sweetheart. I thought you knew that… though I’d be happy to refresh your memory later…” he murmured suggestively, stepping forward until she was backed up against the counter, his arms braced on either side of her. Buffy looked up at him and he lost himself in the radiant hazel green of her eyes.

Without thought, he lowered his head and touched his lips to hers. Her lips felt petal soft beneath his and she tasted like a delicious combination of cookie dough and rich coffee. Nudging her lips open with his tongue, he savored her warmth, her taste. A now familiar jolt of fire shot through him and he leaned closer, pressing her firmly against him and the counter. Yet even this wasn’t close enough. He wanted to be closer…

With a smooth economy of motion, he lifted her effortlessly and sat her on the edge of the counter. Buffy automatically clasped his hips with her thighs, her arms encircling his neck to cling even closer to him.

“Angel?” She gasped breathlessly when his lips finally lifted and moved to her neck, kissing the sensitive flesh beneath her ear.

Behind them a laughing cough erupted. “I, uh, was sent in to see what was taking so long. Doyle was right about why it was so quiet in here.”

Blushing slightly, Buffy peeked over Angel’s shoulder to see Wesley standing in the doorway, a grin on his face.

Angel sighed, resting his forehead against Buffy’s for a lingering moment before helping her down from the counter. Smiling, he dropped a kiss on her nose then stepped back and over to the fridge, reaching inside to take out four bottles of Corona. “It’s only been two minutes; you boozers are just impatient.”

“Two minutes? According to my watch it’s been more like ten,” Wes countered with a grin, winking at Buffy who, with lightly pink cheeks, was watching them. “And I have to say it looked like it was going to be at least another ten – though I hope you’d have more consideration for you wife than that.”

“With a watch that bad, it’s a wonder you get anywhere on time. How do you manage to get to your classes, anyway, doc?” Angel shot back jokingly as he followed Wes back to the dining room. Calling him ‘doc' had become a recent joke among the guys now that Wesley was in medical school.

Buffy shook her head as the teasing camaraderie continued for several long minutes after the guys returned to the poker game. When the last batch of cookies came out of the oven, she placed them on a plate that she slipped into a zip lock bag. She drew a little heart next to Angel’s name on a piece of paper and propped it next to the plate.

She gathered up the rest of the cookies along with her book bag. Waving goodbye to the guys, she left for Willow's.

* * * * *

The poker game was still in full swing when Buffy returned almost two hours later.  Shaking her head, she said her hellos and, shortly thereafter, her goodnights, then made her way to the bedroom.

She was cocooned in the bed long before the game broke up and the guys made their way out the door. She wasn’t asleep; rather she was waiting and listening for Angel’s footsteps as he finally made his way down the short hall. She could only hear faint sounds from the bathroom next door as he went about the nightly ritual of washing up and brushing his teeth for bed.

A short while later he slipped into the room, a shadow moving carefully in the murky darkness. He stopped by the bed and took off his shoes and socks, taking care to be quiet since he thought her to be asleep.

Buffy moved then, shifting on the bed as she watched him.

Hearing the small sound, Angel glanced toward her. “I’m sorry, did we keep you up?”

“No,” Buffy replied, her voice a low whisper. She watched him undress with avid interest, her eyes adjusted to the dark. His shirt was unbuttoned with a habitual ease before he shrugged it off and tossed it toward the basket near the closet. He unbuckled his belt, and stripped off his pants leaving him standing near the closet in only a pair of black boxers.

“I was waiting for you.” Her voice sounded husky to her ears. She lifted the blankets back in invitation.

“Oh?” Angel answered with interest as he moved to the bed, stopping to strip off his last remaining article of clothing before he slid into bed next to her. Without waiting for a response, he cupped her cheek in one hand and kissed her. It was a sensual, thorough kiss that sent her senses soaring and her mind whirling. It was exactly what she had been waiting for; exactly what she had been craving.

Beneath the covers, he settled his body against hers. His hand moved from her cheek to her neck then down over her shoulder to slip beneath the sheet and caress the smooth skin of her back that was revealed by the low cut of her chemise-style nightgown. His hand continued lower, gliding over the rounded swell of her bottom covered by the satiny material. He tugged her closer, his hand brushing the back of her thighs before slipping beneath her gown. He caressed her leisurely, his hand roving over her behind with a possessive languor.

After a few minutes he tugged on her gown, pulling it upward. Breaking off their kiss, he helped her remove the tiny garment, dropping it off the side of the bed.

Their lips met again, fused, melded together and his hands once more swept over her warm, smooth skin. One hand slipped between her thighs, stroked and then pressed in. Angel stifled a groan. She was wet, ready for him. Rolling slightly, he leaned over and reached for the nightstand, pulling open the drawer. Mentally he noted that he’d need to buy more condoms soon; they were going through them at a pretty steady pace – not that he was in any way, shape, or form complaining. Ripping open the package impatiently, he donned the condom with the speed of considerable practice.

Buffy opened her arms to him as he pressed her back in the bed. She lifted her face eagerly for his kiss as he parted her thighs with his own and slid into her damp heat. He moved with a slow, hard rhythm, glorying in how much she wanted him, how hot and tight and wet she was for him and how she tilted her hips to take him deeper with each stroke then rotated them slightly in teasing friction as he withdrew.

With mouths fused and tongues tangled together, they moved together easily, in a fluid, now familiar, rhythm. The sound of their panting breaths, the small mewls and deep groans of pleasure and the swish of the sheets on the bed were the only sounds in the darkened room. Slick, hot skin slid across equally hot skin as the heady pleasure spiraled, pushing them ever closer to the tumultuous edge.

With steady but slow and powerful strokes, Angel moved between her thighs, feeling Buffy arch beneath him and lift her hips to meet each thrust, urging him on. Even as the urgency built, he continued to pace himself, moving slowly, wanting to draw out the rapturous pleasure. Closing his eyes, he concentrated, attempting to savor every small touch of her hands on his body, the taste of each sweet, delicious kiss and the sensual brush of her skin against his.

He thrust harder, deeper, and Buffy gasped. She felt the tension coiling inside her as release drew steadily closer. Bending her legs, she lifted them and wrapped them around his hips. Her fingers skimmed his hips, his back, clutching at him. Her hands drifted up his back to his neck. She sank her fingers in his hair as he sucked hard at the erratically beating pulse in her throat.

She was teetering close to the glorious edge, struggling for breath. Her eyelashes fluttered and her eyes opened. She tugged at his hair, bringing his face back to hers. Her panting breath mingled with his own as they writhed together, Angel intent on maintaining his steady, driving rhythm. Their eyes met in the dim light before he lowered his head once again to kiss her.

Buffy gave a small shuddering gasp and Angel felt the tremor ripple through him. The tension in his body increased and he moved forward again, his cadence faster, more urgent, more compulsive. They moved together in feverish abandon, the blankets slipping off the bed and falling to the floor unnoticed.

In the next instant, Buffy felt the peaking desire consume her, the sensation overwhelming; she sank her teeth in his shoulder as she reached her glorious, explosive climax.

Angel felt the scalding heat of her body stiffening beneath his, convulsing around him in tiny, quivering shudders. It was the last test of his tenuous control; gasping, he joined her, plunging forward with barely suppressed violence and propelling them both upward on the bed. Heedless to all but carnal satisfaction, he felt the rush of orgasmic pleasure sweep through his entire body for a fiercely long, endless moment before he collapsed over her, sated and content.

Long after Buffy had fallen asleep in his arms, Angel lay awake feeling curiously different. The pleasure was familiar, but anything he experienced before paled by comparison. It was a feeling of contentment, of belonging and of something stronger, something he wouldn’t quite name.

He brushed a kiss on her hair as she stirred in his arms, snuggling her nose against his chest and mumbling slightly in her sleep. Buffy had become immeasurably important to him; he could no longer see his future without her in it. 

And that frightened him more than he cared to admit.

* * * * *

With his book propped on the arm of the couch, Angel’s concentration was focused on the text as he studied for his Criminal Evidence mid-term. He absently caressed the small, bare feet that lay in his lap, Buffy stretched out on the couch next to him half-dozing, her Chemistry notes having fallen to the floor almost an hour ago when she first drifted off to sleep.

It was well after midnight when the phone rang, startling them both. Buffy sat up groggily and watched as Angel rose to answer it, a concerned frown on his face. A call this late during the week usually was not good news.

“Hello.”

“Angel?”

“Speaking,” Angel replied politely, not recognizing the feminine voice on the other end of the line. With the portable phone cradled between his ear and shoulder, he returned to perch on the edge of the couch.

“Hi Angel, it’s Nina.” She stated in a friendly tone, a hint of a smile in her voice. “I thought I’d see if you’d like to get together. I have tickets to the Dave Matthews concert next week and I would really like your company.”

“Uh, I don’t remember…” Angel began hesitantly, glancing over at Buffy who was watching him curiously, if somewhat sleepily, from her position on the sofa. Without a second thought, he amended his reply, “Thanks for the invitation, but no. I’m not interested.”

“If Dave Matthews isn’t your thing, we could just get together for dinner. Or … something. You know, whatever you might want to do,” she insisted suggestively, “I’m up for anything, and I’d really like to see you.”

“I’m sorry, Nina, I’m not interested. Maybe we met months ago, but things have changed since then. I’m married now.”

Buffy perked up slightly with Angel’s words; the mention of a woman’s name and that he was married. She was trying not to appear too interested in his conversation, but it wasn’t exactly working.

“Married? Really?” Nina echoed with a laugh, “That’s pretty extreme to get out of a date, isn’t it?”

“It’s the truth,” Angel answered plainly.

“Whatever, Angel, really. That doesn’t have to matter to me; I don’t have any ridiculous scruples. I just want to have a good time,” Nina declared congenially, looking up and smiling at her friends that were watching and listening as she made the call.

“It matters to me,” he declared unfalteringly, watching Buffy who was now studying her fingernails with interest.

“That surprises me. I’ve heard that you were up for… anything.” A pout evident in her tone, Nina tried a different tactic, “But then, if your wife has you by the balls, I understand. That happens to a lot of men when they get married; the wife runs the show. It’s sad really, how emasculating that is… and so unattractive. I just never thought you were the type, but…” 

“Wait!” Angel suddenly snapped, afraid that she was going to hang up. On the opposite end of the phone, Nina smiled and gave the thumbs up to her friends, indicating success with her insinuation. Men were so easily manipulated by ego, or so she thought. His next question, however, took her by surprise, “Where did you say we met again?”

“You don’t remember?” Nina replied after a moment, hedging.

“No, I’m sorry, I don’t,” Angel murmured smoothly, “maybe you could remind me?”

“We met at … work.”

“Work? Yours or mine?” He asked, his eyes still on his wife. Buffy was now pretending to read her chemistry notes, which were upside down in her lap. He smiled.

“Your work. I came in the office there to see a friend and you were very insistent on getting my number,” she purred, unaware that Angel’s thoughts had gone in a different direction than she expected. “And since it’s been a while and you haven’t called, I thought you must have lost the number so I decided to call you.”

“I see. And this was where again?” Reaching out, Angel lifted a strand of Buffy’s hair and let it slide through his fingers. At his touch, she turned and looked up at him.

“Does it matter?  Why don’t you just meet me at the Bronze tomorrow night, and I’ll refresh your memory.” Nina insisted, attempting to hide the annoyance from her voice. She rolled her eyes and shrugged at her friend who was gesturing to know what was being said.

“Sorry, I was just curious where we met, that’s all. I’m still not interested. Good night,” Angel said bluntly, clicking off the phone. 

“Who was that?” Buffy asked, trying hard to keep her tone casual.  She had told herself she wasn’t going to ask, but the words were out before she could recall them.

“Someone named Nina,” Angel replied, his brow creasing in concentration as he stood. He was certain that he had never met the woman before, but he was admittedly curious why she would say otherwise. His instincts told him that it wasn’t as simple as it appeared; it was too similar to the phone call from someone named Kate that he had also never met, but he wasn’t sure yet how to explain it or why the pretense from either woman.  Making a mental note to change their number, he returned the phone to the cradle.

“You knew her? Or you didn’t?” Buffy queried softly, her gaze never leaving him as he walked toward her.

“No, I don’t.” He sat down with a puzzled frown. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he drew her closed and planted a kiss on her hair. “I didn’t. I don’t. I admit I wasn’t a monk before we married, but… I honestly can’t say that I ever met this Nina. Something tells me that she was lying.”

Buffy snuggled next to him, resting her head on his shoulder, “Lying about what?”

“About us having ever met; about me asking for her number.” Idly, he played with her hair as he sorted through the various, unsettled thoughts in his mind.

“Maybe it’s a joke?” She ventured unconvincingly, aware of his discontent.

“Maybe…” He replied, distracted. His expression was still serious. “What do you say we change our phone number?”

“If you want too…” Her fingers drifted over his ribs as she pushed back to look up at him. She shrugged and smiled, her expression without a trace of doubt or censure. “Of course, then you realize that I’ll have you all to myself. At least until everyone gets the new number.”

Angel studied her face. When she smiled at him, his worries seemed to vanish and he forgot all but the tantalizing promise in her smile. “You do already. Now what do you say we go to bed?”

She stretched up against him, looping her arms around his neck. “Did you finish studying?”

“I’m finished for tonight. I’ll read the rest in the morning.”

“I thought you had a mid-term tomorrow.” Buffy moved so that she was straddling his lap.

“I do, but I’m ready.” He returned, his hands coming to rest on her hips.

“For the test?” She wiggled, feeling the rise of his erection beneath her.

“For you,” he murmured as he guided her hips down and forward in a slow, rocking glide.

She shivered at the heated murmur, anticipation warming her senses. Leaning down, she ran her tongue over the curve of his lips. “Really,” she whispered provocatively, reaching for the string tie on his sweats even as she slid back to drop to the floor between his knees. “That’s good because I’ve been ready for you since you got home.”

Buffy’s caressed the hard length of his erection through the soft cotton material of his sweats, a teasing light in her eyes as she watched his face. Her hand was warm on his stomach as she brushed his shirt out of the way before easing the material of his pants down to expose his cock.

Angel brushed a fingertip over her eyebrow, thinking not for the first time how beautiful she was and how lucky he was to have met her. Curling forward, he took her face between his hands and kissed her, a long, slow, delicious kiss that expressed the feelings for her that he had yet to fully acknowledge. When he leaned back again, he had forgotten about the disconcerting phone call only minutes earlier.

When Buffy lowered her head, Angel closed his eyes. Her mouth was warm and soft surrounding him; her stroking hands, teasing and eager.  A delicate scene of vanilla drifted to his nostrils, along with the faintest trace of hazelnut from the nearby candles, the room seemed to drop away and his focus centered solely on his wife, and the intense, exquisite sensations she was evoking with her mouth, lips and tongue.

His size and hardness intoxicated her, a tantalizing reminder of the paradise that he brought so readily. Buffy felt her own temperature rise, restless desire surging through her blood to pulse between her legs. Along with desire, a sense of power rose bringing with it a new degree of enchantment; she was growing increasingly confident in her ability to bring him to the height of pleasure with her mouth.  She could hear his harsh breathing and feel his fingers flexing in her hair as she took him deep in the back of her throat. His hips lifted slightly when she withdrew and he seemed to growl in satisfaction when she returned, sucking him deep and swirling her tongue around the sensitive ridge below the head of his shaft. 

Angel’s fingers tightened reflexively in her hair, wanting to grasp the incredible pleasure in his hands. He tugged, suddenly aware that he was close to the brink. “Buffy-“

She shook her head, pulling free. “I’m not finished,” She murmured, looking up at him through tousled strands of blonde hair. She licked the swollen crest of his erection suggestively, causing Angel to groan before taking him in her mouth again and continuing her actions.

Long minutes later, he was overwhelmed with glorious sensation. The explosive pleasure broke, shocking and intense, and he came, a low guttural growl sounding deep in his throat. Buffy swallowed willingly, thrilled to have brought him such pleasure.

Blissful moments later, Angel lifted his head and met Buffy’s smile as she lay with her arms draped over his lap, her cheek resting against his thigh.

“My turn,” he said with a satisfied but playful smile. He leaned down and brushed her lips with a kiss. “But I think you’ll have to call Faith to teach your class in the morning,” he murmured, his breath warm on her skin as his lips drifted over her cheek, “because I plan to keep you up late…”

Before Buffy had a chance to reply, Angel had scooped her up in his arms and had deposited her in his previous position on the couch, switching their positions. He quickly stripped her shorts and t-shirt from her, his own clothing joining hers on the floor short seconds later.

“Mmmm… that sounds perfect,” she whispered in reply, her arms twining around his neck and wrapping her legs around his hips. “As often as I’m calling her lately,” she purred against his throat, “I think I’m going to have to permanently change my schedule.”

“Good,” Angel rumbled in absolute agreement, his tongue tracing the delicate shell of her ear.

Good wasn’t precisely the word, Buffy thought, her eyes closing as her husband’s hands and lips drifted with deliberate intent over her body. No, it was something far better than good, but her mind was unable to find the right words as passion and lust and the ache of want took precedence.

It wasn’t until after two am that they finally made their way down the short hallway to the bedroom. Sated and replete, they curled together in the big bed and slept.

* * * * *

Angel waited patiently in the UC Sunnydale  Arts & Sciences’ Dean’s Office for the next available clerk. He was understandably paranoid about paperwork now, and so wanted to make sure that he checked and rechecked all the requirements and formalities necessary for his graduation in the spring. His thoughts preoccupied, he didn’t see the woman standing next to him until she touched him on the arm.

“Angel!”

“Cordelia,” Angel returned politely, unconsciously shifting his stance slightly away from her. Glancing over her shoulder he saw Harmony standing just inside the door, a bored expression on her face. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just passing by on my way to the gym to meet Devon. I saw you come in, thought I’d stop in and say hi.” The brunette smiled widely, leaving out the fact that she had just dragged Harmony across most of campus at a near run in order to stage the ‘accidental’ meeting after she had spotted Angel from a distance. 

“So how are you? You look … tired.” Cordelia schooled her features into a friendly, but worried expression, her fingers dropping from his arm as he moved still further away from her. “I’m sure adjusting to married life has got to be draining. And I know you - you really work yourself too hard, what with work and classes and all.”

“I’m good. And no, it’s not. Things are good actually,” Angel replied carefully, studying Cordy’s expression. Mentally he smiled, not about to elaborate on the real reason why he hadn’t got much sleep last night. Until the BCIS investigation was complete however, he couldn’t risk pissing her off. If she were to tell the BCIS that she arranged the marriage, it would be disastrous. Now more than ever he didn’t want to do anything that would jeopardize his relationship with Buffy or put her at risk in any way.

“Oh. Well, that’s... so great,” she said insincerely. It was obvious by her tone that she didn’t believe him; that he was giving her the answer that was expected rather than the truth. With a small lift of her shoulders, she whispered understandingly, “But if you ever want to talk about it, or just need somewhere to go for awhile and hang out to get away from… things, you know where I am.”  Stepping forward and reaching out, she gave his arm an affectionate squeeze. “After all, what are friends for?”

“Angel O’Connor?”

The clerk’s voice calling his name saved him from having to come up with a sufficiently bland reply. Cordelia as confidant was laughable; still, he wasn’t taking any chances at angering her. Until Dr. Walsh declared the case closed, he felt he had no choice but to be civil to Cordelia. And unfortunately, in reading through the BCIS online FAQs, he found a mention that it could take up to two years to complete an investigation of this type. 

“Uh, thanks. I have to go…” Angel gestured behind him where the grey-haired clerk was now waiting for him.

“I have to go to meet Devon anyway. We’re going to dinner again tonight and then some new club; he just wants to be with me twenty-four seven it seems.” Cordelia said airily, “You know Devon, right? Lead singer of the Dingoes? Oh, of course you do… Oz and all. They’re playing at the Bronze next Friday, maybe we’ll run into each other there. Devon insists that I be at all his gigs. He’s so-”

“I have to go.” Angel interrupted, cognizant of both the clerk and the other students waiting in the office as well as uninterested in hearing the latest about Cordelia’s love life.

“Fine, go then. See you around.” The brunette muttered, unable to completely hide her displeasure at the dismissal and Angel’s apparent lack of concern.

Nodding slightly, Angel turned and walked away.

“Remember what I said!” Cordelia called, lunging after him and narrowly missing capturing him by the arm. “If you want to talk or something, call me!”

As Angel disappeared behind the tan cubicle wall, she cursed under her breath and flounced back to where Harmony still waited near the door.

“So how’d it go?” Harmony asked as the two women exited the building. “Did you mention Devon? And did he get all jealous like you thought?” The blonde mused almost as an afterthought, “He didn’t really seem jealous… but then I guess guys are weird about that stuff. My blondie bear is more the obviously jealous type. Maybe Angel is the more of the quietly jealous type. And is he so totally hating being married to Bunny like you thought, or what?”

“Harm…” Cordelia warned softly, her nerves on edge.

“Oh, I wonder if she’s all pissed at him because of Nina’s call. Did he say anything about it?” The blonde rattled on, unaware of her friend’s growing annoyance. “I guess he might not mention that. Or maybe he would. I mean if my Spikey was getting calls in the middle of the night from women asking him out on dates, you’d better believe I’d be a little upset. Especially if they interrupted something, if you know what I mean. That whole thing was inspired, Cordy, really. Bunny has to be-”

“Harmony, please, just shut up!” Cordelia snapped, putting her sunglasses with a brisk jerky movement. “I need to think.”

“Well, excuuuse me.” Harmony muttered, watching her friend stomp away, her heels making a staccato rap on the pavement as she strode angrily away.

* * * * *

Images of Angel and their sexual exploits on the living room couch last night filled her at various moments during the day and Buffy’s lips would curve upward in a dreamy little smile, making her classmates and later her coworkers and customers wonder about her thoughts.

At Patina, Anya teased her relentlessly, much like Faith had when Buffy had called her that morning to ask that she substitute teach her class again.  After Faith teasingly agreed, Buffy had gone back to bed with Angel for another two hours, though this time purely for sleep.  Around eight, they showered together and had breakfast before driving over the UC Sunnydale campus. Angel went to the library to study for his mid-term while Buffy went to her classes. 

When her last class ended for the day, Buffy stopped in the student health center and made an appointment to see one of the nurse practitioners. She had decided that she wanted to go on the pill, though she hadn’t yet told Angel about her decision, preferring to wait until she had more information. She was disappointed to find out that the next available appointment was three weeks out but she went ahead and took it anyway. They put her on the cancellation list, and also made sure to advise her that she’d need to make sure to schedule the appointment around her period.  With a faint blush for not having considering that little detail before, Buffy made a quick mental calculation and double checked the date of her appointment. Nodding at the woman behind the counter, she reassured her that the date would be fine then took the offered card with the neatly written date and time.

Willow had dropped her off at Patina around five because Angel had gone straight from class to his volunteer job at the Sunnydale Police Department. On the drive over, the red-head had asked her a dozen different questions about married life and how things were working out. Buffy had answered most of them with candid honesty and more than a few grins, having shared confidences with her best friend for more years that she could remember. There were a few things she kept to herself though, things that seemed somehow too precious and intimate to share with anyone other than Angel.  One such small fact was that she was wildly in love with her husband…

* * * * *

“Francis Doyle?”

“That’d be me. And you’d be Ms. Maggie Walsh from the BCIS.” Doyle squinted at the woman standing on the small landing to his apartment door, the sun bright behind her.

“Dr. Maggie Walsh.” The stern and rather formidable woman insisted, her gaze trained on the man that had finally opened the door to her insistent knocking.

“Well Dr. Maggie Walsh, what can I do for you?” Doyle questioned, leaning casually against the doorframe.

“I take it Angel O’Connor told you that I would be contacting you?” The BCIS Agent said curtly, her words more a statement than a question. She raked him with her gaze, her disapproval obvious. It was after nine-thirty in the morning yet it appeared like the man in front of her had just rolled out of bed to answer the door. The loud patterned shirt was rumpled and unbuttoned, revealing the white tank he wore beneath it. His dark grey slacks appeared to be well worn, as were his shoes.

“He may have mentioned something like that, yeah.”

“No doubt he told you to lie for him.” Maggie Walsh’s lips pressed together tightly in displeasure.

“No, he left that part out.” Doyle’s mouth twitched into a smile, which was quickly repressed. “All he said was that a Ms.- I mean a Dr. Maggie Walsh from the BCIS would be calling me because he gave out my name as a reference.” 

“May I?” Dr. Walsh gestured toward the interior of the apartment.

“This gonna take a while then?” Doyle asked, one eyebrow quirking upward in question.

“My questions won’t take long, Mr. Doyle, but I do have a job to do, and I can be very persistent. If you’d prefer, I can come back at a time that is more convenient for you if you would just let me know when that would be.” Maggie Walsh insisted with a tight smile.

“No, not necessary. Come in.” With a resigned sigh, Doyle stepped back from the door and swept his arm wide in a gesture of invitation. After Dr. Walsh passed by him, he closed the door and followed to where she stood waiting next to the cluttered couch. He moved the books and papers, setting them on the also cluttered coffee table.

Maggie Walsh looked at the couch with distaste before she carefully chose a clear spot and sat down. She flipped open the black notebook that she always carried and deliberately thumbed through the pages until she reached a blank page.  Pulling her glasses out and slipping them on, she glanced over the rim to where Doyle now sat in a chair adjacent to her. “How long have you known Angel O’Connor?”

“Let’s see. Well, that’d be almost our whole lives.” Doyle replied matter-of-factly, running a hand through his rumpled hair.

“Were you surprised when he married?” Looking down, she drew out a pen and jotted some notes on the blank piece of paper in front of her.

“Honestly? Yes.”

“Really?” Dr. Walsh glanced up from her notes in surprise. “And why is that?”

“Well, naturally, when a consummate bachelor up and marries – a young one at that – it’s bound to raise a few eyebrows. I had thought that Angel would be sowing oats for many a year, so married now?  Yeah, it was a pretty big surprise.” Doyle answered with shrug. He flicked a spec of lint off his trousers. 

“And?” Maggie Walsh prompted eagerly.  This might just be the break in this case that she needed.

“And so the conclusion that I came to was that he musta knocked up some sweet young thing with some very influential parents.” He shifted on the chair and propped his feet up on the coffee table. A haphazardly stacked pile of books teetered precariously as the table shook but seemed to defy gravity and so stayed put. “That or there was some other reason behind it, if you know what I mean?”

“I think I do.” The BCIS agent nodded, smiling a superficial conspirator’s smile. “Please continue.”

“Not much more to it really. I met Buffy. No baby, no influential parents, no cunning ploy to trap him,” he grinned and gave her a wink, “though she’s not without her own persuasive capabilities.”

“I don’t understand, Mr. Doyle. What are you saying?” Dr. Walsh’s brow creased in to a frown.

“I’m not the most observant man, but I think I woulda noticed by now if she was pregnant so that wasn’t the reason for the quick wedding.  I considered that maybe she knew about his trouble with his visa, but Angel… well, he’s just not the type to be manipulated by a woman – no matter how clever she might be. He’s damn stubborn in fact. Which leads me to only one thing.”

“Which is?” The BCIS agent pressed impatiently, leaning forward.

“As a confirmed bachelor myself, it pains me to admit this, but I think maybe Angel just went and fell in love and so, got married before she got away.” With feigned gravity, he added, “Not that he’ll just come right out and admit it, you know. Old habits die hard and all that.”

With an exasperated sigh, the BCIS Agent countered belligerently, “I find that reasoning highly unlikely, Mr. Doyle. I believe that Mr. O’Connor married because he was at risk of deportation, and I believe you and I both know that. As a naturalized citizen yourself, I think you would resent others that attempt to cheat the system. You went through the right channels, did the paperwork, took the tests. Doesn’t it gall you to see someone else try to take the easy way out?”

Doyle pursed his lips for a moment and then said, “I have to say no, not in this case. Angel’s the closest thing I have to a brother and quite honestly, I’ve never seen him take the easy way out of anything.” Unflinching, Doyle returned Maggie Walsh’s cold, blue-eyed stare as though he could see behind the mask of her expression.

Dr. Walsh contemplated the man across from her for almost a full minute before she snapped her notebook closed. “I’m sure you believe that it’s commendable to cover up for your friend, however, I can assure you that this will only hurt you both in the long run. Thank you for your time, Mr. Doyle. I’ll see myself out.”

“Suit yourself.” Doyle returned with a wave of his hand. He didn’t move from his spot until long after the door closed behind the irritated agent.

* * * * *

From the seat that was fast becoming his usual spot at the bar, Angel sat and watched the group of guys across the restaurant with steadily growing anger. He had noticed them immediately after he arrived, the boisterous group talking and laughing loudly enough for everyone in the restaurant to hear them. Finding out that they were seated in Buffy’s section was grating; more so when he caught a glimpse of the cavalier attitude they had toward her as she approached their table to drop off their check. As it was it already took considerable effort for Angel to restrain himself from going over to the table and knocking a few heads together in an effort to teach them some manners.

“That,” Anya pointed out caustically, “is Parker Abrams. I think you were asking about him a few weeks back.” She strolled casually over to where Angel sat, reaching out to pluck a cherry from the tray of garnishments that sat on one end of the bar. She popped it in her mouth and glanced at Angel curiously, wondering what he was going to do. His expression was forbidding, making her glad that she wasn’t in Parker Abrams’ shoes.

Angel simply stared, his eyes dark and glittering furiously. He watched as the guys tossed a stack of bills on the table then made their way toward the restaurant exit. Still laughing and talking loudly, they showed little regard for any of the restaurant’s other patrons, many of who cast annoyed and relived looks at the group as they passed.

Purposefully, Angel stood and strode out behind them. After they had gone through the exit and halfway down the block, he called, “Parker Abrams?”

Parker stopped and turned around. He tensed when he saw the less than friendly face of the man calling his name and glanced around nervously.  Reassured by the presence of his friends, he folded his arms negligently over his chest and managed to reply, “Yeah? Do I know you?”

“No, you don’t.” Angel’s tone was cool as he continued to advance toward the group. It was to Parker’s favor that he hadn’t actually attempted even a casual grope of Buffy, as he had often done in the past, while her husband had been watching; still, Angel hadn’t forgotten what he had overheard Buffy and Willow talking about weeks ago. “My name is Angel. Angel O’Connor.”

“You want something or what?” Parker asked sardonically, glancing at his friends with a slight roll of his eyes.

“I want you to stay away from my wife,” Angel declared bluntly.

“Your wife?” Parker questioned with a smirk. “Dude, with so many hotties around, why would I be interested in your used goods?”

“Let me make this simple enough so that even you can understand.” Angel stated, his lips curving upward in a slow smile, “I want you to stay away from Buffy. Summers. O’Connor.”

Parker’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Buffy? She’s your-”

“Wife.” The taller dark-haired man interrupted emphatically, taking another two steps forward so he was within only a few feet of his prey. “You see, I don’t like what I’ve heard about you and your behavior toward her.”

“Whatever, man. She’s obviously told you a bunch of lies.” Parker shrugged dismissively, his confidence bolstered by his three frat brothers standing around him. “That or she still has the hots for me. She’s a real piece of work, that girl.” He concluded the sentence with a lewd thrust of his hips.

“I’m not going to ask you again.” A muscle in Angel’s jaw clenched; his fingers curled in palm tightly. He couldn’t believe that Buffy had actually gone out with this guy, not once but twice.

“Or what?” Parker taunted mockingly, “You’ll kick my ass?”

“Yes.” The single word was uttered low and emphatically. To anyone listening, there was no question about the seriousness of the threat contained in that single word.

Parker paled. He wanted to back up a few steps away from the larger man, but he somehow managed to muster up enough courage to hold his ground. He was aware that his friends were watching them closely; he dared not let them see his fear. Through lips that trembled slightly, he managed to squeak out a response, “Whatever, man. Patina’s a public place. I can go there whenever I want.”

“Hey, Parker. Just let it go…” Larry urged calmly, his eyes moving between the two men. Six foot two and a tackle for the UC Sunnydale football team, Larry wasn’t afraid of much, but there was something about the intensity of the man in front of them that made him think twice. There was also the small fact that he hadn’t really liked Parker’s continued harassment of Buffy, but he went along just to be part of the group and avoid having their teasing barbs turned on him. Now seemed like a prime opportunity to call an end to the game; something that was long over due. Turning back to Angel, Larry added, “It’s cool. We’re cool.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.” Parker blurted again, his voice a childish whine. Jutting his chin out, his eyes flitted from Larry back to Angel. At his waist his hands clenched into fists. He completely disregarded his friend’s attempt to extract them from the situation.

Ceding defeat, Larry shook his head, held up his hands slightly and backed up, indicating that he wanted no part of Parker’s continued ignorance. After a second, the two other frat guys backed off as well, moving to stand next to Larry a few feet down the sidewalk. They watched with interest, but it was obvious that they had no plans to intervene.

“No, I can’t.” Angel returned contemptuously, “I can’t tell you to stay away from Patina, or campus or anywhere that Buffy is likely to be, but I can advise you that you’ll be a lot healthier if you make an effort to go out of your way to avoid being anywhere my wife happens to be.” Taking a menacing step forward, an insolent smile on his face, he added, “But to be honest with you, Abrams, I think I’ll be a lot happier if you do insist on being an idiot. I wouldn’t mind teaching you a lesson.”

Realizing that his friends had stepped aside, Parker’s courage faltered. He unclenched his hands and back up two quick steps. “Yeah, well, whatever.” He stumbled slightly as he turned around and started to walk away. He’d only gone two steps when he turned and muttered over his shoulder, “That place sucks anyway.”

In a cold crisp voice, Angel called after him, “Don’t forget what I told you…”

After Parker disappeared around the corner, Angel turned and walked back to Patina.

* * * * *

“You work too hard,” Angel murmured with a touch of censure in his voice.

“Kennedy went home sick and Andrew needed the help. Besides, I could use the extra money.” Buffy replied, walking into the bedroom. “I’m just sorry you had to wait so long. You weren’t in your usual spot talking to Clem when I went to tell you I was going to be late.”

“I didn’t mind waiting. Besides, I brought a book,” he offered, following her. “It’s just... I worry.”

“You do?” Buffy turned to glance at him. Leaning against one tall, carved bedpost she scrutinized him as though the truth of his words would be discerned on close inspection. Other than playful love words during sex, it was the closest he had come to telling her how much he cared. Her heart seemed to skip a beat.

“Of course I do.” Angel shrugged, his emotional state still slightly skewed after his confrontation with Parker Abrams now almost two hours ago. He couldn’t recall ever wanting to hurt someone quite as much as he had wanted to hurt Parker; it was a near-blind jealous rage combined with a feeling of protectiveness toward Buffy so strong he could almost taste it. It was discomfiting to a man who never before considered fighting over a woman. Still, he hadn’t mentioned his little conversation with Parker to Buffy yet. Not that he was hiding it… he just wasn’t sure how to approach the subject, particularly since she had never mentioned Parker’s harassment to him directly. He wasn’t sure she’d be too pleased that he interfered.

Buffy smiled, reaching up to unbutton her blouse. “That’s so sweet.”

“Wait,” he ordered softy, his dark eyes watching her intently. “Let me.”

Pausing, she looked up at him, her brows quirked. “You don’t have to.”

“I know.” He grinned, advancing toward her. “But I want to.”

“What makes you think I’ll let you?” She gave him a coy glance from under her lashes.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” Angel murmured as he gave her an impertinent half-smile. Reaching out, he began to unbutton the remaining buttons on her shirt. “Or if you won’t let me take your clothes off, I can just slide your skirt up, bend you over the bed and have my way with you.”

“Oh.” Buffy gasped, her eyes flaring wide as a sudden jolt of lust swept through her senses at his suggestive words.

Turning her around, Angel pressed her between his body and the bed, holding her firmly against him with his arm wrapped around her waist.  Slipping one hand down, her tugged her skirt up her thighs. “Maybe I should do that first anyway.”

Buffy closed her eyes and squirmed restlessly, the long fingers slipping between her legs intoxicating, his whispered words effectively provocative.

“Would you like that, hmm?” His mouth was close to her ear, the length of his body pressed firmly into hers, his erection blatant and hard against her bottom.

“Yes.” Buffy breathed, the throbbing between her legs intensifying with each tantalizing stroke of his fingers. She leaned back into him, the familiar scent of him filling her nostrils as the heat of his body warmed her even through their clothes.

“Tell me what you want…” Angel whispered, nuzzling her neck as she turned her head aside to accommodate him. Reaching up, he cupped a bra-clad breast in his hand, his thumb sweeping over the jewel-hard tip of her nipple through the smooth satin.

His words evoked another feverish rush of desire as did the questing fingers between her legs, which had now slipped beneath her lacy panties to slide inside, teasing her, filling her.

Reaching up, Buffy tangled her fingers in the soft mass of his hair. Tugging his head down as she turned in his arms, she opened her eyes and looked into his with a smoldering gaze. “I want you.”

“You want me to what, babe?” He asked, easing his fingers from between her thighs and turning her more fully to face him. His gaze roved lazily over her face, down her neck to the open shirt where her white bra peeked out between the sides of the gaping material. With one finger, he traced the outline of the material teasingly, as if to nudge it off her shoulders. Instead though, he simply waited.

A scant few seconds later she caught on to what he wanted. Her smile was inviting. “Undress me.”

Returning her smile, Angel removed her clothing slowly, taking pleasure in their game and stopping to kiss or caress sensitive spots with increasingly blatant and erotic touches.

“Mmmm… very nice,” he murmured softly, his gaze proprietary as he looked her over from head to toe when she finally stood nude in front of him. Her skin was lightly flushed, her breathing deep and slightly erratic, her eyes half-closed, all giving added evidence to her desire. He wanted her, as he always did, with unrestrained lust.

“Kiss me,” Buffy whispered as she tilted her head back and leaned into him. The feel of his clothing against her bare skin gave her an added thrill as his mouth covered hers in an intrusive, forceful kiss. His hands grasped her shoulders, pulling her into him.

Twining her arms around his neck, she swayed closer, rubbing against him sensuously. The taut peaks of her nipples scraped along the soft material of his shirt and she cooed softly in pleasure.

Angel’s hand slid down her back to cup her bottom, lifting and tilting her so that his aching erection pressed hard against her. In turn, Buffy rocked back, rubbing persistently as his tongue mimicked her rhythm, thrusting into her mouth. His hands roved over her body, his caresses blatant and explicit.

“Your clothes,” she murmured between kisses, tugging at his shirt to help him pull it over his head before reaching impatiently, urgently for the button of his pants until, finally, he was as naked as she. 

Her eyes on his, Buffy tugged him forward as she slowly sank down on the bed and parted her legs. Angel followed, lowering his weight over her, reveling in the soft feel of her body undulating seductively, wantonly beneath him.

She parted her legs wider as he reached between them, feeling the slick heat of her desire.  Bending his head, he kissed the taut crest of one nipple, his mouth closing over it and sucking gently. When he lightly bit the turgid sensitive tip, Buffy gasped softly and her hips lifted against his hand.

“You like that?” Angel whispered against her skin, his lips tracing a path to her other breast.

“Yesss…” Buffy hissed softly in reply, feeling the blunt edges of his teeth close around the previously neglected nipple. Arching her back and lifting her arms, she sank her fingers into his hair wanting him closer as he leisurely nibbled and bit, licked and sucked.

“Ann-gelll…” she whined softly in frustration, reaching down with one hand to run her fingertips along the hard, jutting length of his cock.

“Mmm…?” he questioned innocently, his hand closing over hers to guide her motions before he let go leaving her to continue the stroking pattern on her own.

“I want you…” She breathed. The pulsing between her legs was intense, the slightest motion of his hand between her legs adding to the already heady thrill racing her senses.

“Here?” He murmured, parting her thighs wider and adding a third finger to the two already buried inside her.

“Now.”  She demanded, her voice husky and low.  She squirmed in wanton anticipation, her craving for him growing with each passing second. “I want your…” she paused, uncertain of her next choice of words even as a lascivious thrill swept through her when she mentally finished the sentence.

“My what, sweetheart?” His voice was gruff, his eyes sweeping over her possessively as he too anticipated her words. His control wavered as desire flared hot. “Tell me. I want to hear you say it.”

“Your cock,” Buffy whispered, the basely carnal words turning her liquid inside. She lifted her hips to meet the deft movement of his hand, the motion adjunct to her fevered urgency. She was nearly insensible to all but the heightening pleasure.

“You want me to fuck you?” Angel murmured, his voice low and filled with obvious heat. An incredible lust was pounding through his veins, his body poised and taut over hers.

Her lashes fluttered. Her green eyes, sultry and heated, met his. Her desire was ravenous, sharp-set and urgent; his blunt words only sparked her passion. “Yes. Fuck me, Angel.”

Before she finished the sentence, he was already reaching for a condom; as he tore the package open, Buffy reached to help him roll the latex sheath over the swollen crest of his erection.

“Mmm… fast or slow?” he whispered as he entered her with a slow steady thrust. He clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth, feeling her warm heat close around him tightly.

“Slow. Haaarrd,” Buffy murmured decisively in response, lifting her hips to draw him deeper. Would she die of lust? she wondered, all sensation seemingly centered in the shimmering, heated core of her body, every pulsing nerve quivering in anticipation.

Angel plunged deeper, suddenly impatient to possess her and dangerously out of control. As if he needed any additional encouragement with the rapacious urgency burning through his blood and spiking in his brain… Tightening his hands on her hips and withdrew marginally, only to thrust back forward, going deeper still.

Sweeping her hands down his back, Buffy traced the muscles along his spine, down to his hips and over the curve of his ass. She exerted pressure, pulling him toward her as she once again raised her hips to meet his downward stroke. He slammed into her again, following her murmured demand to the letter.

A low, exultant sigh escaped her lips.

The enticing sound added to the fierce need, his control slipping away as he settled into an unbridled, pounding rhythm that brought them quickly to a tempestuous, shuddering climax.

Too quick, Angel thought disgustedly.

“More…” Buffy breathed in his ear, clutching at him just before he rolled away to discard the condom. He smiled; they were obviously in accord.  Her words were an answer to his own feelings of discontent, of famished, insatiable desire.

He returned to the bed quickly, his lips crushing hers even as he rolled them so that she was sprawled atop his large body.

Minutes later, a new condom in place, Buffy lowered herself impatiently on his erection.

Beginning a slow, bewitching rhythm, she began to glide up and down on him. She was ravenous for him it seemed, eager and impatient.  Angel watched her through half-closed eyes, marveling at the sexy picture she made, her breasts bouncing slightly with each thrust, her peaked coral nipples hard and jutting toward him, begging to be touched. His eyes moved lower, down her firm abdomen to where their bodies joined, his erection disappearing between her thighs as she moved.

Leaning down, she nuzzled his throat, tasting his skin with her tongue. On each downward thrust, she paused, savoring the sensation. She felt gloriously full, as though she was meant to be filled by him, with him.  She purred deep in her throat, expressing her pleasure. The passage of time seemed momentarily arrested as the riveting sensation became her sole focus.

She came once then twice more in a sweet flood of pleasure before Angel joined in her release, holding her close as she collapsed in a sweaty, sated heap on his chest.

* * * * *

Not taking her eyes off the computer screen where she was currently placing a bid on eBay for a replica ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’ gold coin, Amanda flipped the answer button and spoke into her telephone headset, “Morgan and McDonald, how can I help you?” 

“One minute please, I’ll see if he’s in the office.”  Placing the caller on hold, she finished typing in the information necessary to complete her bid then leaned back to peek through the door just to left. Lindsey was reclining at his desk, his shoeless feet propped up on the edge revealing white athletic socks. A stack of folders sat on the desk at his elbow; one thick folder was open on his lap.

“Linds? It’s Ethan Rayne.” Amanda shouted, smacking her gum slightly. “Or rather, Eve wanting to get you on the phone for him.”  She’d had this job for just over four months, and it was by far one of the better temp assignments that she had. She liked both Lilah and Lindsey; they were smart, friendly and easy to work for and the work itself wasn’t at all taxing; answering the phones, doing the occasional filing, and serving as office receptionist. The latter was probably the easiest part of all given that in all the time she’d been there less than a dozen people had ever walked into the small, sparsely furnished office suite. 

Lindsey McDonald and Lilah Morgan, partners in the PI firm, spent a significant portion of their time out of the office, and when they were there, they were usually in one office or the other with the door closed in deep discussion. Ethan Rayne had been a regular client of the PI firm for as long as Amanda knew and was obviously one of their more important ones; she had been given explicit instructions to contact Lindsey without delay whenever Ethan or his secretary called. That didn’t mean Lindsey always took the call or even called back right away – it just meant that he knew about each and every call when they happened.

Nodding that he’d take this particular call, Lindsey waited for Amanda to transfer it to his office.  He set the documents he had been reviewing aside and reached for the tattered legal pad that was partially covered with scrawled notes and an occasional random odd doodle. He flipped another couple of pages over and coiled them with the rest before jotting the date and time on the top of the next blank page.

“Ethan.” Lindsey greeted as he tapped the button on his speakerphone then just as quickly hit the mute button. His gaze landed on Lilah Morgan as she walked into his office and quietly closed the heavy door behind her.  She had overheard Amanda’s shout from her office immediately next door, and so, as was their typical pattern, joined Lindsey in his office for the call. Taking the chair on the opposite side of the desk, she crossed her legs and opened her elegant leather portfolio notebook on her lap.

“McDonald.” Ethan returned gruffly, his voice sounding hollow as it echoed through the room. “Have you completed the research on the vendors that I asked you for? I’m looking to close the deal by end of the week.”

“Several of the names you asked me to check out seem viable; we’ll have a FedEx package in the mail to you tomorrow with all the details and the financial statements you requested, including the personal profiles of the company officers.” Lindsey replied, making eye contact with Lilah who simply nodded. Ethan was referring to a request he had made to check out several manufacturers of cell phones equipped with smart-card technology. Immediately Lindsey had been suspicious of the motive behind the demand. The use of such technology had become a recent trend in cyber-payment money laundering schemes; schemes that often proved to be rapid and efficient, not to mention difficult to trace.

“Excellent.” Ethan’s voice reverberated through the office, followed by the muffled sounds of paper shuffling as the wealthy investment banker obviously moved some papers around on his desk. Dryly, he added, “No doubt your bill will be included.”

“Now, Ethan. You know I wouldn’t do that.” Lindsey answered cheekily, “Our bill will be mailed separately. Can’t have it getting lost in all that other paperwork, you know.” Mouthing the question, Lindsey asked if the invoice for the job had, in fact, been completed. Lilah, in return, wrote the figure “$37,500” on a piece of paper that she held up for Lindsey’s inspection.

“Quite.” Ethan snorted acerbically, having no doubt that the enormously expensive yet extremely competent firm would send a hefty bill for the work that he had demanded. Picking up a note on his desk, he continued thoughtfully, “I have yet another small task for you. I need anything you can find on a Devon MacLeish.”

“New employee?” Lindsey asked, scrawling the name on the paper in front of him.

“Does it matter why I need the information, Mr. McDonald?” Ethan inquired impatiently, turning slightly in his chair to glance at the Dionysus wall sculpture that Cordelia had brought back from her recent trip to France, claiming to have purchased the expensive object only because it was so perfect for his office.  He found the gold painted object rather tasteless, but had hung it up to humor her.

“Of course not, Ethan.” Lindsey returned smoothly, his lips curving up in a smile as he reclined back in the chair, “We’ll start by pulling up his birth certificate, his school records from kindergarten on and all of the rest of the easily available public information then we’ll fumble around until we figure out what else might be relevant about Mr. MacLeish that you might need to know. I’ll set it up on our normal hourly fee schedule, and we’ll get started first thing tomorrow.”

“Very well,” Ethan sighed exaggeratedly, his fingers drumming on his desk. “Devon MacLeish is the young man that my granddaughter is currently seeing, and I need to know his standing. It’s nothing you haven’t done for me before, so I don’t expect excuses for enormous fees on this one.”

“Ah.”  Lindsey lifted his eyebrows at Lilah who only shrugged in question. “So if the lovely Miss Chase has a new beau, are we dropping our work on the O’Connor case then?

“I thought you were close to wrapping up your work on that,” the investment banker countered, a touch of sarcasm evident in his tone, “Or have you been billing me for a job that you have not done?”

“No, no, now Ethan, when have we not come through for you?”  The handsome PI contradicted, “I’m sure I told you that the O’Connor situation wasn’t quite as you explained it. In fact, let me be clear in telling you that I don’t think it’s what you thought it was at all.”

“What are you saying, Mr. McDonald?” Ethan inquired wearily, suddenly feeling every bit of his seventy-three years. He opened his desk drawer and reached for a bottle of extra strength aspirin.

“Honestly? I think the O’Connor marriage is about as legit as they come. They’ll probably have your two-point-five kids and the requisite divorce by the time they’re thirty-five just like everyone else, but I don’t see any reason to waste your time or money to get Angel O’Connor deported.” Lindsey exhaled slowly, his green eyes meeting the golden brown ones of his partner, who was obviously somewhat surprised by the candor that he had demonstrated with his blunt statement.

“Fine.” Ethan said after almost a minute of consideration. His eyes were closed as he leaned his head back against the soft leather of his chair; his head was beginning to pound and he still had several hours of meetings planned for that evening. He hadn’t actually heard his granddaughter mention O’Connor’s name lately, and there were no suspicious expenses from her bank account; likely she had lost interest in the young man and moved on as she was wont to do. And there was the possibility that his extremely well compensated PI was right.  With a resigned sigh he continued, “I’ll defer to your judgment then. Though, do understand, Mr. McDonald, I will expect a return of all fees paid in addition to a significant monetary recompense should your advice prove unwise. Do we have an understanding?”

Lilah shifted on her seat, careful to avoid making a sound. She watched Lindsey carefully, waiting for his reply.

Sitting upright in his chair, Lindsey replied with all seriousness, “I don’t think that’ll be a problem, Ethan. If I’m wrong, I’ll take care of the situation personally – and at my expense.”

“Then we’re agreed.” Ethan returned coolly, massaging his temples with one hand. “I’ll be in touch.”

The phone clicked off abruptly as expected, Ethan never one to linger over small talk once the purpose for the call was concluded.

“So what do you think?” Lindsey asked as he tossed the yellow notepad on the desk haphazardly.

“I think we’re close, but we still have some work to do. We have the wire transfers, the fictitious accounts and the names of plenty of non-existent persons that cashed the checks – but not enough to tie them back to Ethan Rayne specifically, just to banks that he happens to hold a controlling interest in.” Lilah stood and paced across the room as she voiced her thoughts out loud. “That means money laundering charges aren’t likely to stick. The deal with the smart card vendor will help – particularly if we can get in there and get the serial numbers of the phones and cards that are distributed… Even so, it’ll take time because possession alone isn’t illegal.”

“The racketeering angle is pretty solid,” Lindsey offered, “I think we can indict on at least twenty-three counts, maybe twenty-eight if we can nail down that last lead. In addition, we’ve got at least four counts of extortion as part of the deal.”

“True,” Lilah mused thoughtfully, “but we’ve been working this for almost three years, Linds. I want to nail that bastard to the wall. You and I both know that Ethan’s been behind more than a few inexplicable disappearances and unsolved murders in Sunnydale and even in Los Angeles. He may not have pulled the trigger himself, but damn it, he’s guilty.”

“I’m sure he is.” Lindsey’s eyes narrowed speculatively. Slowly, he smiled, “I think I have an idea.”

“Oh?” Lilah returned his smile with one of her own. Once again, she sat down in the chair across from him. “So tell me.”

PART SIX

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