Rewards of Patience

Rating: NC-17; Explicit sex.

Disclaimer: Joss, ME, et. al. own all. I own nothing.

Author's Notes: Set during "Just Rewards", A:ts s5.  Essentially a PWP in the same 'verse as Concessions; Buffy went to LA and is working at Wolfram & Hart with Angel. 

Dedication: To Gretchen. A very, very, very late happy birthday fic.

Feedback: Yes, Please. gia@everysixseconds.com

Distribution: My site, www.everysixseconds.com, anywhere already hosting my stuff, anywhere else, just let me know.

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It was just after dusk when they reached the cavernous mansion in the Los Angeles hills. Angel parked the Viper alongside the curb, and they sat in silence watching for signs of life from the house.

After a few minutes, Buffy turned her attention to Angel and studied his profile. Demon hunting was so much better, she thought, having him by her side.  Was this what their future would be like if she stayed in Los Angeles?  Working together at Wolfram & Hart, living together in the penthouse suite, sharing their lives and their adventures?  And at night - or rather day since their schedules were a bit reversed from most people – sharing a bed?  The latter was something that they had only very recently confirmed, in a most thorough and intimate fashion, that they were able to do, consequence free. She thought then of the joy that every aspect of being with him brought to her life, and it seemed suddenly too great a sacrifice to consider leaving – even for Giles who wanted her to come to Rome.  

Angel reached out then and touched her arm, startling her out of her reverie.  He pointed toward the limousine exiting the gated yard, and said in a low voice, "Time to go."

Nodding, Buffy put aside her thoughts of the future to focus on the task at hand: searching Magnus Hainsley's mansion for clues as to what the necromancer was doing with the bodies that Wolfram & Hart had been providing him.  When they reached the tall stone fence, Angel lifted Buffy, allowing her to nimbly spring to the top and over. He followed easily, leaping with vampiric grace. They threaded their way carefully along the crushed gravel paths of the garden until they reached the house.  Most of the windows were dark and, after checking all of them along the lower level, locked.

Slipping around the back of the house, they climbed up a vine covered portico to reach a balcony on the second level.  There they found a French door unlocked.  Turning the knob, Buffy stepped inside, and motioned for Angel to follow.

They paused for a moment, and studied their surroundings. They were in some sort of bedroom, the furniture sleek black lacquer trimmed with ornate gold edging.  The walls were covered with textured velvet wallpaper, the floor covered with thick, white shag carpeting.  

Buffy wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Nice."

"It's a bachelor pad design right out of 'Playboy'. In the 70's." At Buffy's pointed looked he added, "Not that I saw that myself or anything."

"Right," she replied with a skeptical smirk. "Not that you ever looked at that kind of thing."

"Of course not," he returned smoothly, though they both knew he was lying.

"So, should we find an office or den or something and start there?"  Buffy suggested, opening the door an inch to peek out into the hall.

"Sounds like a plan."

~~~~

They did a cursory search of all of the rooms on the second floor, before they made their way downstairs to what appeared to be Hainsley's office. They moved very quietly, only whispering to each other now and then, to avoid being heard by any of the staff that might still be in the house. 

The office was large, having been some sort of formal ballroom when the house was originally designed.  Filled bookshelves lined the wall on the right, though most of the books looked as if they had been untouched for years.  On the left was a large desk, flanked on either side with glasses cases that were filled with various objets d'art. The far wall had a fireplace with an elaborate mantle, above which hung a portrait of Magnus Hainsley himself.    

The desk wasn't locked, but yielded nothing of interest after a first pass.  Obviously, the necromancer hid his disreputable activities well.  They were just about to leave when Angel noticed something odd about the wall to the left of the fireplace.

"It's hollow," he said, tapping light on the paneling.

"You think there's something in there?" Buffy asked as she crossed the room to stand beside him.

"Maybe," he reflected, running a hand along the wall carefully. "But how to get in there is the problem."

"Try the mantel," Buffy suggested. "It's got all those curlicues and knobs and candles and stuff. That's always where they put the opener thingies."

Angel cast an amused glance at her. "Your vast experience with hidden doors tells you that?"

"Well, no. But I've seen movies… unlike some people," she countered, playfully sticking her tongue out at him.

"Yeah, well, this isn't exactly the movies," he returned skeptically. Still, he fumbled with the objects along the wall as she suggested. Finding that one of the iron candlesticks was loose, he jiggled it until it turned. At that moment, the panel of wood in front of him swung open.

"See, I told you," Buffy whispered triumphantly as the door slid quietly into the pocket along the wall revealing a small room, barely the size of a closet.   

"Not much of a secret room," Angel commented dryly. The room itself, in addition to being small, was also completely empty.  It didn't appear that Hainsley was hiding anything of interest in there.

"He probably doesn't even know it exists," Buffy said as she returned to examining the contents of the glass cases.  

Angel adjusted the candlestick back to its' upright position and the door quietly slid closed.  Turning suddenly, he cocked his head.

Attuned to his every mood, Buffy looked over at him. "What is it?"

"Someone's here," he whispered. The measured sound of footsteps could now be heard in the distant hallway. They were growing steadily closer.

Buffy glanced around the windowless room. They were trapped! She returned her gaze to Angel's face questioningly.

Making a quick decision, Angel reached for Buffy's hand and pulled her across the room to the mantle. He twisted the candlestick as he had done earlier and they waited for the door to slide open again.  Muffled voices now accompanied the footsteps; both of which were closer still.

"We're not going to fit in there," Buffy muttered as Angel stepped into the small space and unceremoniously jerked her in after him.

Without a response, Angel groped along the interior walls until he found a button inside the small alcove. He pressed it firmly and the door closed.

The small chamber really wasn't meant to hold two people, much less one the size of Angel, Buffy thought irritably as she shifted slightly. She was pressed face first against the wall, and Angel was so close behind her she could feel his body firmly against her bottom and back. She wondered briefly about the amount of air they had, before choking back a snort of laughter. Air was irrelevant to one of them.

There was a faint click as the study door opened. The sound of voices was now much clearer, and much closer.  

"You say it's an original Etruscan bronze of Sekhmet?"

Wesley? Buffy glanced back at Angel. What was he doing here? And with Hainsley?

Angel simply shrugged. 

On the other side of the wall, the necromancer silkily replied. "Before you question the authenticity, I can assure you that it is in fact original 26^th Dynasty, and I can also tell you that it is most assuredly not for sale."

"Yes, well, you do realize that if Wolfram & Hart served as procurer of the piece, we do, in fact, own title to it?"  Wesley countered smoothly.

"Of course I realize that, though I would not suggest that you choose to exercise that clause at this time. I happen to like the object. Besides, I can make things very difficult at Wolfram & Hart should I so choose. And why are you yelling?"

"Was I yelling?" Wes asked blandly. "I've had an inner ear problem lately, makes it hard to gauge the volume of my own voice."

"I see." The demon replied skeptically as he retrieved the keys to the locked glass cabinets from his desk. He had been surprised that another Wolfram & Hart employee had shown up after Novac; doubly so when this one asked not about an art piece rather than his contract with the law firm.

Buffy stifled a laugh. It was clear that Wes was trying to warn them of Hainsley's approach. She doubted that he even remotely suspected that they were in fact in the same room with them, but he must have hoped that his voice would carry to where they were giving them time to escape. Obviously, the necromancer's evening plans had ended early.  

They heard the sounds of the two men moving around, Hainsley offering descriptions of various objects in his collection.

As it became clear that the occupants of the room wouldn't be leaving anytime soon, Buffy resigned herself to the wait. Her focus gradually shifted away from the pair in the nearby room to Angel. She could feel the muscular wall of his chest pressed snuggly against her back, the silk of his shirt only a thin barrier to the coolness of his skin.

She felt a slight tug on her hair as Angel reached up and pulled the elastic band that held her pony tail. She suppressed a small gasp of surprise as her hair spilled over her shoulders.

She trembled slightly as he ran his hands through her hair. She loved the feel of his hands on any part of her, and he seemed particularly fascinated with her hair. Buffy gave him what she hoped was an admonishing look over her shoulder, trying to appear serious and stern, when instead she wanted him to continue what he was doing.  It was only so very recently that had they been given the freedom to touch openly and intimately without fear of consequences or repercussions, and it was a heady feeling, one she wasn't quite used to.

In response, Angel only winked at her. His expression was devilish as he continued to run his fingers through her hair. He knew that she didn't dare make a sound with Wes and Hainsley so close, and there wasn't room enough for her to escape him. She could only glare at him over her shoulder, but he continued to ignore her as he gathered her hair in one hand, moving it aside to nuzzle her neck.

Sighing, Buffy leaned back against him. 

He lightly traced her features with the fingertips of one hand, brushing along her jaw, her earlobe and her cheekbone.  When he reached her lips, she closed her eyes and opened her mouth, licking his fingers delicately before sucking them into her mouth. 

After a moment, Angel moved his hand again, trailing his fingers along her chin and the smooth skin of her throat. He traced the rounded collar of her neckline before tracing the faint outline of her nipples through the thin cotton of her shirt. He tugged the firm peaks, and Buffy bit back a moan. Opening her eyes, she turned her head to look up at him.

Meeting her glare with a bland look, he reached for the buttons on her shirt and methodically began to unfasten them. She reached for his wrists to halt his progress, but could say nothing for fear that the men in the nearby room would hear them.

Her half-hearted grip was ignored as he slid his hands under her now open shirt to cup her bra-covered breasts in his hands. When he pushed her bra up to reach her bare flesh, all thoughts of stopping him flew out of her head. Her breasts fit perfectly in his hands; she shivered at the feel of his cool touch manipulating her firm globes so tantalizingly, so expertly.

Angel nuzzled the smooth flesh of her neck as he teased her nipples to further hardness. Taking his time, he leisurely squeezed and tweaked, rolled and tugged, until the hard tips were swollen and sensitive. Weak in the knees, Buffy's leaned heavily against him as her head lolled to the side, giving him easier access to her neck as he continued to nibble and suck just below her ear. 

His fingers left her breasts to drift along the smooth skin of her abdomen. Reaching the waist of her jeans, he deftly unbuttoned them. He slipped his hand into her pants, caressing her intimately through the soft silk of her panties.

Panting noticeably, Buffy craned her head to look up at Angel.  He was watching her with a hot, lusty gaze, and she felt herself melt into a pool of liquid heat. It was unfair how just a look from him affected her so physically, so deeply.

He worked his hand into her panties, and Buffy jerked convulsively at his cool touch on her heated, bare flesh. He teased with his fingers, then swept insider her, deep within her, stroking, rotating, bringing her to the very edge of the abyss where she shuddered fiercely, biting her lip to keep from crying out.  He continued mercilessly, stroking, caressing, rubbing so firmly, so deeply… she gasped, and his other hand came up quickly to cover her mouth, stifling the sounds in her throat.  

Yanking her pants and panties down to rest on her upper thighs, he ran his hand over her behind, squeezing the firm flesh. He bit her earlobe and suppressed a growl as his hand slipped over her hip, returning again to glide along her slick heat. He found the swollen nub of her clit and teased it gently.  His touch was light, exploring, taunting, and she surged against him. He knew exactly how to touch her, how to make her so desperate for him that she wanted to beg him to taker higher, harder, faster… to take her to the pleasure that she knew only he could bring.  The staggering waves of pleasure grew, carrying her to nearly unbearable heights.  Taking her clit between two fingers, he squeezed, and suddenly Buffy was swept up in a maelstrom of ecstasy. She shuddered violently against him, warmth flooding her.

Gasping for breath, her body still racked with tiny shudders, Buffy leaned weakly against the wall.  She could still feel Angel behind her, the hard, long length of his cock pressing against her bottom and she instinctively rocked back, rubbing back and forth enticingly.

"I think they left," Angel whispered.

As his words reached her consciousness, Buffy sighed. She had almost forgotten about Wes and Hainsley. Which, she thought as she tugged her pants up and adjusted her clothing, wasn't completely a surprise. Angel seemed to have that effect on her.

They waited another minute, and when there was nothing but silence, Angel pushed the button that caused the door to swing open. With shaky legs, Buffy stepped out into the empty room. Behind her, Angel turned the candlestick and the door to the hidden room closed.

Angel reached for her then, drawing her back into his arms. Lowering his head, his mouth covered and claimed hers before she could speak. His tongue parted her lips, thrusting deeply into her mouth. Heedless of their surroundings, their lips parted and touched again and again, until Buffy was once again breathing raggedly.

"What about Hainsley?" she panted as Angel's lips trailed along her neck and his hands fumbled with the buttons on her pants that she had just refastened moments earlier.

"He won't come back," he answered, impatiently shoving her pants and panties down to her feet. He lifted her out of them then, his hands beneath her thighs as he walked back toward the wall. Bracing her there, he quickly worked the buttons of his own pants. 

Clinging to his shoulders, Buffy wrapped her legs around his hips as he filled her with the throbbing fullness of his cock.  The earlier waves of rapture were easily rekindled as he began to move, his every stroke taking him deeper.

She bit his shoulder, shamelessly raking her fingers over his back as he pounded her into the wall. Her kisses landed on the cool skin of his throat; she met the sweet, demands of his mouth with an all consuming passion of her own. She marveled at the strength of him beneath her hands, and she reveled in the hunger and power she felt in his every thrust between her thighs.

A guttural groan escaped him, shattering the silence of the room. Lifting his head from where it had been buried in her neck, he sought her lips. Buffy responded eagerly to his ravenous kisses, obliging the dark and windswept passion that was rising with such pulsing force between them.

The world seemed to rock violently, pitching like the stormiest sea, spinning like a whirlpool, only to finally explode into a frenzy of unleashed passion. 

After, they were still for what seemed like forever.

"Sorry," he whispered.

Buffy opened her eyes to meet the dark depths of his. She smiled and kissed him lightly. "I'm not."

"I've been without you too long," he murmured apologetically. He stepped back and let her slide down his body to the floor. His gaze roved over her, taking in the wild, tousled mane of her hair, her swollen lips, and languid expression. She looked like a woman that was well loved and passionate, one that had just been with her lover.  It sparked his desire again immediately.

Raking a hand through his hair, he stepped back and retrieved her pants from the floor behind them.

"You have to stay here in LA with me," he said impulsively.

Buffy, who had been pulling on her clothes, looked up at him with surprise. He had been careful to leave any decision about her future in her hands, never saying anything that she might construe as attempting to influence her decision. 

She wet her lips, staring at his face. "Really?"

"Yes." Angel said, catching her hand and bringing her fingers to his lips.

"I thought you'd never ask," she returned, stretching out her arms to wrap them around him.

"We'll make this work." Tightening his arms about her, he kissed her soundly. Releasing her, he patted her affectionately on the butt. "Now let's get out of here."

*** END ***

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