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HOT
WATER
by Yseult
deBreton
RATING: NC-17 (coarse language, sexual situations)
TIMELINE: Sometime after "Hero" and before
"Five by Five"
SUMMARY: Um, Angel, a bathtub, and memories of Buffy? It’s
a companion piece to The Ritual but
without the angst. Think fluff. Think superfluff. Oh, and don't ask me
about the curse.
AUTHOR’S NOTE #1: God help me. I think this might turn
into a series. I could call it "Variations on a Theme – Water".
This was written because (1) DarkRhiannon mumbled something about wanting
to see Angel in a tub (2) Laitiane seconded the idea. (3) Dark Star
mentioned a nekkid Angel scrubbing tiles (4) Alley’s still looking for her
smut. (5) Leni pouted because my last story was not fluff. So, here it is.
AUTHOR’S NOTE #2: Angel’s thoughts are in italics.
DATE OF COMPLETION: 24 June 2003
DISTRIBUTION: Yseult's Passion and my permission.
DISCLAIMER: So not mine.
FEEDBACK: Makes me write more nekkid Angel. This is either
a good thing or a bad thing, depending upon your mindset. Send it to yseultdb@yahoo.com
Fantasy #1: A bathtub full of hot water.
Fantasy #2: A bathtub full of hot water and soap.
Fantasy #3: A bathtub full of hot water, soap, and a bottle of
alcohol.
Fantasy #4: A bathtub full of hot water, soap, a bottle of alcohol,
and some classical music.
Fantasy #5: A bathtub full of hot water, soap, a bottle of alcohol,
some classical music, and candles. Yeah. That’s the one Angel wanted.
Except, he’d add something else: Buffy.
Fantasy #6: Buffy, a bathtub full of hot water, soap, a bottle of
alcohol, some classical music, and candles. Perfect. Now he
could die happy. Not that he was in danger of dying anytime soon. Unless
you count death by foul odour. This was one of those days when it
sucked to be a vampire with highly acute senses. Useful when you’re
hunting the bad guys. Frigging torture when you’re the one smelling like,
well, whatever a Stayock’s word for shit is.
Damn Wesley and his fucked up translations. How the hell did he get
to be a Watcher anyway? Isn’t there an exam or something you have to pass
before you can be a Watcher? Maybe he cheated. Angel grimaced at that
thought as soon as it was formed. Uh huh. Right. Wesley Wyndham-Price
cheat? Does the man even know how? Whether Wesley knew how to cheat
was irrelevant. Angel smelled and looked like shit. Smelled for the obvious
reasons. Looked because Wesley fucking Wyndham-Price the Third didn’t
fucking mention that fucking Stayock demons not only produce fucking
copious amounts of crap but they fucking spew it as well. Angel idly
wondered about the benefits of a headless Wesley.
God. I’m gonna smell like crap forever. Angel could just hear
Cordelia. "Wow, Angel. Way to bring the clients in."
He stood at the back of the building which housed Angel Investigations
and his apartment and considered his choices. The first option was to shed
his clothes and walk naked into his apartment. Later, after the neverending
shower, he could just burn everything. The second option was to walk
through the front door and deposit the Stayock’s defenses all over the
floor on his way to the apartment. That choice just sucked. Cordelia would
never let him forget it and the smell would take forever to dissipate.
Option #3 was to drag his stinking body over to Wesley’s apartment which
had a separate shower and tub and inflict this mess on him. An Angelus grin
flickered over Angel’s features. Option number 3 it was.
*****
"Angel." The word hung in the corridor. Wesley waved his hand
in front of his nose. "I take it you found the Stayock demon and, uh,
dispatched it. And I say, that’s quite an overpowering odour."
"Glad you like it," said Angel before he pushed past the
ex-Watcher and entered the apartment. He peeled off his duster and dumped
it on the floor. Then he kicked off his demon-encrusted shoes. He was
unbuckling his belt when he heard Wesley mumble behind him. "Did you
say something?"
"I said, I wonder if the uninvite spell is retroactive."
Wesley eyed the growing pile of discarded clothing as Angel continued to
strip in front of him.
"I’d say no, but feel free to try it. I’m in a weird mood tonight,
Wesley. Giving the neighbours a show is not what I had in mind but as long
as I get clean, I don’t much care." Angel was now naked except for his
boxers. He ran his fingers through his hair and debris rained onto the
carpet. "You should probably get rid of those sooner rather than
later." He indicated the fetid sodden clothing.
"But—" Wesley began.
Angel squeezed the man’s shoulder. "Don’t gape, Wesley. It makes
you look less manly."
Wesley shut his mouth. He opened it again "Angel, why are you here?
Did something happen to your apartment? I know a reputable plumber—"
He stopped speaking when he caught the look on Angel’s face. "I see. I
suppose it is a little late to apologize for the mistranslation."
Wesley regarded the condemned clothes with disdain. "Has anyone ever
told you that you can be vindictive?"
Angel’s smirk grew larger. "What can I say, Wes? Payback’s a bitch.
I need a towel. Possibly two." The vampire suddenly realized that Wes
was dressed in a suit. "Are you going somewhere? Do you have a
date?" Angel listened and noted that in addition to Wesley, there was
another human in the apartment. "Did you bring someone home?"
Angel whispered
The ex-Watcher blushed. "I didn’t bring her home exactly. She just…
Are you going to be long?" Wesley’s studious face dared Angel to make
a rude comment. But Angel was too tired and too focused on getting clean.
"I just want a bath, Wesley. Well, a shower and then a bath and I
want to be left alone. I’m gonna be awhile. So why don’t you take her to my
apartment." Wesley raised an eyebrow. "There’s wine under the
stairs but no food. I’ll clean up when I’m done. I promise." Angel
rummaged through his coat pockets and found his keys. He held them out to
Wesley.
The British man hesitated before accepting them. "There are towels
in the bathroom. I’ll get rid of your clothes. I assume you brought a
change? Nothing I have will fit you."
Angel laughed. "No offense, Wes, but I’d rather go naked than wear
anything you own." Angel pointed to the bag he’d dropped by the front
door. "I’m set." He padded off to the bathroom.
*****
He’d been in the shower less than 30 seconds when Wesley knocked before
opening the bathroom door.
"Angel? I’ve put your clothes in several garbage bags and left them
by the dumpster."
"Thanks, Wes."
The door closed. Angel turned his face into the cold spray and let the
water dance over his body. When he felt as if most of the gunk had come
off, he turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. Angel had run
the bath earlier. The tub of hot water and a bar of soap beckoned him. Going
with fantasy #2.
He settled into the tub and closed his eyes. He could feel the water
slowly warming his skin.
Another quiet knock then click. The bathroom door opened slightly. Angel
peered through half-closed eyes. Wesley was pointedly not looking at the
bathtub.
"Angel? Will you be going back to your apartment tonight? Or can
I…?"
"Stay as long as you need to, Wes."
Click. Angel’s eyelids fluttered shut. He felt the remaining residue
lift away from his body. In a few minutes, his mind would follow. Click. Damn
it, Wesley. Now what?
"Angel? Help yourself to whatever shampoo or soap you need."
"Thank you. I will."
Click. Angel ran his fingers over his arms. He could still feel a layer
of scum. He grabbed the soap and lathered his arms and chest. The soap was
warm. In his mind, he imagined it was Buffy’s hand that skimmed over the
muscles of his chest and arms and— Click.
"Angel? Feel free to use whatever you need to. Treat my home as
yours, as it were."
"Get. Out." The words were forced through Angel’s fangs and
accompanied by a low warning growl. He heard the satisfying slam of the
bathroom door followed by the front door opening and closing.
The soap traced the contours of his thighs, shins, calves, feet, back,
and buttocks. Angel ducked his head below the water to wet it again and
poured some shampoo into his hand. Then he methodically massaged it into
his hair. It was Buffy’s hands that moved through it and gently rubbed
circles into his scalp.
They had taken one bath together, just before he left Sunnydale. He had
filled the mansion’s large tub with hot water and slowly undressed her. As
each piece of clothing was removed, he had covered Buffy’s naked skin with
kisses. By the time she was bare, Angel had licked every inch of her body.
She had returned the favour. It was the first time someone told him that
his belly tasted like peaches and his cock was like strawberries. She had
wondered aloud what he would taste like with whipped cream. He had
threatened to leave her there and go to the store. ("Another time,
Angel.") She never did find out. She also didn’t remember ice cream
and chocolate and peanut butter and… Angel growled. He always ended up in
this place. He didn’t want to remember anymore.
Angel dunked his head and rinsed the shampoo out. When he raised it, he
watched the teetering towers of foam break into mounds of bubbles and
disappear. He grabbed the bar of soap again and created a rich thick
lather. This time his hand dove beneath the water’s surface and gripped his
cock. He leaned his head against the bathtub wall and closed his eyes.
Slowly he traveled up and down the shaft with building pressure. He never
increased the pace. Each time he made love to Buffy, it had been slow and
sure. This was a sense memory. If he went faster, he was just jerking off.
If he went slow, he was making love to her again. Coming. I'm coming.
Click. The goddamnfucking bathroom door was open. If Wesley
wants a show, I’ll fucking give him one.
"Unless you’re planning on joining me, Wesley, GET. OUT."
There was silence. Angel’s hand continued to move rhythmically below the
water. He ignored the tingle he felt at the base of his spine.
Then a voice asked, "You want some help with that?"
Angel opened his eyes and murmured "Buffy" as his body spasmed
and shook and his orgasm literally choked. It can’t be— She’s in
Sunnydale. Angel blinked just to make sure. Buffy was really standing
in the bathroom. With no clothes. And a can of whipped cream.
"You’re here." Angel was still in shock. It was the only
explanation for his sudden display of idiocy. Of course she’s here,
moron.
"You’re one smart vampire." Buffy shook the can in front of
her chest in a blatant echo of Angel’s earlier actions. She looked like
something beyond heaven. Angel could feel his erection get even harder. He
watched her cross the bathroom floor and lightly perch on the edge of the
bathtub. By his feet. Where he’d have to actually move to touch her. As his
gaze drank her in, a drop of perspiration rolled down her neck and between
her breasts.
He swallowed several times before he spoke again. "Do I want to
know why you’re here?" One of his fingers touched her knee. It was
quickly joined by other fingers and a palm as they traveled the brief distance
between her knee and her hip.
"Does it matter?" she smiled.
Nope. Not one damn bit. Angel’s hand continued to move over her
body. It stopped briefly to cup a breast and harden a nipple. When it
reached her face, Angel searched her eyes for permission to take her.
"You’re here," he said again.
Buffy giggled. "You keep saying that. Yes, I’m here." His eyes
caught the furtive movement of her finger on the nozzle of the spray can.
Angel’s third-to-last thought as he heard the whipped cream spray across
the bathroom was That’s gonna be a mess to clean up. His
second-to-last thought was a snapshot of him stark naked and scrubbing
tile. His last thought was a different picture: Buffy on her hands and
knees with her firm ass wiggling at him while she scrubbed the tile. He
licked some of the whipped cream from her fingers.
"I don’t want you here," taunted Angel as he placed his hands
around her hips.
She wrinkled her nose and altered her position so that she had a better
balance. "Where do you want me?" It was a dare. They both
knew it.
He gave her a wolfish grin. "I want you here," said
Angel and he pulled her into the bathtub with him. Buffy’s shriek of joy
was cut off by Angel’s lips lickingtouchingtastingsucking hers. I want
you here forever.
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