Feast of the Senses


Author: Dark Star

Summary: A quick snack before dinner

Rating: Adult


Thank you to Jo for the beta.




It feels good to be home. It's been a long journey and a long night, and Buffy is tired and hungry. Angel parks the car, and Buffy opens the passenger door and gets out. She reaches back into the car to get her bag out of the back seat, and in doing so she catches her finger on the sharp edge of the battleaxe. She flinches but makes no sound; it's just a scratch and she knows it will heal up in a couple of minutes. She pulls the battleaxe out of the car, closes the car door and hitches the bag onto her shoulder. She turns to go into the house just as Angel comes round the front of the car.


"Are you all right?" he asks with small frown.


Now it is Buffy's turn to frown. What's he talking about?


Angel carries on toward her and says, "I can smell blood." Buffy looks down and sees that where she caught her hand on the axe, there are three bright beads of red coming up from the scratch on her finger.


"It's nothing," she laughs, but Angel still frowns.


"Show me," he says.


Buffy shows him her finger and watches while he lifts the finger to his lips and his tongue curls round her finger, gently wiping away the blood. Buffy gasps softly, and when Angel's eyes lift to meet hers she sees the desire clearly expressed in his eyes. He opens his mouth to pull her finger into his mouth but she pulls it away.


"Not here," she tells him, tilting her head slightly toward the closed curtains of the neighbouring houses and he nods once.  A semi-public place is perhaps not the right location for this.


Buffy opens the front door and enters the hallway, with Angel following closely behind her. As Angel closes the door she drops her bag on the hall table and stands the axe up in the corner of the hallway, deliberately scraping the same finger against the edge of the axe. The cut is deeper than before but not enough to cause her harm, and by the time she turns to face Angel her finger is bleeding freely.


Angel's eyes are riveted to the small amount of blood running around the curve of her fingertip and the primeval yearning she sees reflected on his face captivates her. He desperately wants to taste her but he doesn't move until she lifts the bloody finger up and offers it to him.  Only then, does he hold her hand in reverence before bringing it slowly to his lips.


His tongue gently licks along her finger, smearing the blood, and Buffy's sigh of pleasure is lost under the pounding of her heart as he pulls the wounded digit into his mouth and sucks on it firmly.


She moans, the sensations he is causing in her body are having more effect on her than they have any right to. It's only a tiny amount of her blood on his tongue but she feels dizzy, and she rests her hand on his arm to steady herself. It's ridiculous; she knows it can't possibly be enough blood loss to make any difference to her and she wonders if there is something about vampires that causes such a reaction or if the feelings are simply because this is Angel, and she wants to share herself with him so badly.


Angel glances at her before turning her hand over and lets his fangs lengthen. His face does not change but his eyes glint gold and Buffy watches him scrape the fangs over her palm to draw lines of crimson across her pale skin. She does not protest when he firmly moves her back against the wall, his knee pressing hard between her legs even as he feasts on the life fluid leaking from her hand.


She can't help squirming against the brutal caress of his knee, and she feels the cool mouth working insistently on the palm of her hand. Whenever the cuts start to close, the sharp pinpricks of his fangs pierce her skin and open her up to him again. The blood has fanned Angel’s instinctive possessiveness, and this kind of primitive feeding turns her on in a way that nothing else possibly can.  She wants him, wants to touch him, and she awkwardly manoeuvres her free hand between them and unzips his pants. His hard flesh presses eagerly against her hand and she masturbates him roughly. She loves to feel the pulse of his cool skin in her hand, and she’s very excited by his frenzied feeding of her blood. It feels so good, and to know that her blood can have such an intoxicating effect on him makes her feel powerful and sexy. She squirms harder against his knee, desperate to ease the ache she feels for him inside her.


Angel licks away the last of her blood and stops kissing her palm. His head spins with the power of her blood and the insistence of his cock and he acts instinctively, yanking up her skirt and helps her to tear off her underwear. Buffy squirms, jumps, lets him support her as he shoves her hard against the wall and pushes himself inside her in the same movement. Her skin is soft, her pulse noisy, and the heat of her cunt envelopes him, making him groan with the sheer sensation of a tight, welcoming woman. Buffy is squirming again, wrapping her legs round his waist and she kisses him, long and deep, wanting to feel as much of him inside her as she possibly can.  His kisses taste coppery from her blood, but her need for him is so great that she doesn’t care.


Angel grunts, mindless in his rampant thrusts, and each one tries to get deeper inside her than the one before. He’s fucking her hard, and fast, and Buffy’s hands are clawing up inside his shirt and tearing at his skin, and her mouth is firmly locked against his, and he Cant. Get. Enough. Of. Her.


When he comes, he comes hard. He’s not aware that he’s growling, or that the weight of his body crushes her against the wall and she has to struggle to breathe. But Buffy hasn’t finished, and she wails in frustration, squirming against his softening cock and needing a release of her own. Angel musters up the energy to move and pulls back enough to slide his hand between them, shoving three fingers easily inside her and lets his thumb rub against her clit. She whines, needing satisfaction and still unable to reach it. Angel ducks his head, grazes her neck with his teeth and bites down. She screams then, convulsing and shrieking, and her writhing head cracks back against the wall. She won’t notice the bruise until much later…


They’re both breathing hard when he carefully puts her down on the floor. Buffy lets her skirt drop down and bends to pick up her abandoned panties.


“Leave them off,” he tells her, and instead she bunches them in her hand for dropping into the laundry basket. Angel is just zipping his pants when she reaches up for another kiss. She’s almost sure she can feel him stiffening for another encounter and she giggles, pushing him gently away.


“Vampire stamina or no, I’m getting something to eat first,” she says as primly as she can, given that her panties are in her hand and her mouth still tastes of Angel and Buffy-blood.


He considers offering her something vampire to feast on, but decides he will save that suggestion for dessert…




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