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What I Was Trying To Tell You
Angel snarled loudly, grabbed Buffy by the back of her hair and hauled her
up against him. Uncaring of his vampiric ridges or fangs, he kissed her
brutally, forcing his tongue past her surprised lips to sweep the deep
recesses of her mouth. The taste of blood -- her blood-- fell onto his
tongue, as his sharp teeth cut into her lips. It only served to inflame him
further.
One large hand was entangled in her hair, the other cupped her bottom,
pressing her up into his hardness. He rubbed himself against her and heard
her inhale sharply through her nose. A low rumble came from deep inside of
him, unconscious and primal, full of want and need. He wanted her now.
He tore his mouth away from hers to push her down onto the couch. She
bounced with a small squeak, her eyes wide, as he dropped down to one knee
and forced her legs apart. Her hair was mussed, her lips were cut and
bruised, blood dotted her mouth. She'd never looked sexier.
"Ang-ooohh." His name turned into a moan as he ripped her panties
away and thrust a digit inside of her. Her heat scorched him, her vaginal
walls gripped his finger, and the scent of her arousal flooded his senses.
A second, then a third finger entered her tight core, stretching her,
preparing her, causing her juices to flow.
She moaned again and he growled at her an instant before he moved over her
body and claimed her mouth again. His hands fumbled at the fastenings of
his pants, but he finally freed his throbbing shaft, its cold, hard length
springing from its confines and hitting her damp curls. He slowly pulled
his hips back and the tip dragged down her feminine folds until it found
her hot entry.
With one solid thrust, he was buried inside of her, burning, melting,
dying. He hooked an arm under one of her knees, tilting her just right. His
first stroke was long and slow, and he savored the feel of being inside of
her once again; but then his instincts took over, the savage desire that
had been building within him for years.
The couch shook with the force of his pelvis hitting hers, the front legs
coming off the ground only to smack down again with repeated thunks. His
mouth had moved from hers to hover near her ear, emitting short, violent
grunts with each thrust against her. She was panting and mewling and
clawing at the back of his neck, her head thrown back into the dark
cushions.
It was too much, too intense, too hot, wet and tight. He was coming whether
she did or not and it was going to happen at that very moment. White heat
shot through his groin, his sac lifted and contracted, and he exploded
inside of her with a howl of pleasure. Then everything went black.
He returned to consciousness to feel Buffy wiggling under him, her hands
running along the back of his neck and shoulders. She was teetering on the
edge, unfulfilled and tense with need. He released her leg and shifted only
far enough to dip his hand between their bodies and find her hard, swollen
nub. With a single pinch, she screamed out his name, her head flying back
even further, her body arching up into his, her tight nipples poking him
through their shirts.
She trembled in his strong embrace. His weight rested on one arm wedged
between the couch cushions so he wouldn't crush her. Still buried deep
inside her core, he used the back of his free hand to brush her cheek and
along her jaw in a soothing pattern. Her eyes fluttered open and he gave
her a small smile. "Hey."
"Hey," Buffy whispered back. She blushed and looked away from him
shyly. Suddenly, her eyes shot back to his, wide with fear. "Oh my
god, Angel! We...your soul!"
"That's what I was trying to tell you earlier," Angel
said with a chuckle. "Instead, you wanted to fight."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying I wanted us to make slow, gentle, wonderful love for the first
time...again," Angel told her with a wry smile. "Guess that plan
was shot to hell."
"You mean...?" Buffy's breathing became shaky as he nodded his
head at her question. "Oh bugger."
Angel arched a brow. "You've been hanging around Spike too much."
"Hazard of the job," Buffy replied flippantly.
He watched the emotions play on her face and in her expressive eyes, and he
knew the exact moment his news sunk in. Leaning down, he captured her lips
in a soft, tender kiss, slowly pulling out of her and sliding back in, his
shaft hard and aching for her already. His wandering hand found her breast
and fondled it through the material of her blouse, cupping its fullness and
rolling her nipple between his finger and thumb.
She lifted her hips to meet him with each thrust, her fingers moving from
around his neck to brush against the ridges on his brow and along his
cheek. His tongue danced with hers, and he brought her slowly to the edge
once again. She quivered around his member when she climaxed, keening into
his mouth. He quickly thrust into her several more times before his own
orgasm was reached.
He broke away from her mouth reluctantly, then gazed down into her
beautiful eyes. "I love you. I never stopped," he whispered
truthfully.
"I couldn't stop," Buffy told him. "You told me to, and I
tried, but I couldn't. And I never will."
"This is going to sound totally selfish," Angel said, the corner
of his mouth tilting up. "But I'm glad."
She lifted her hand again to trace her fingers over his ridged brow and his
human mask slid back into place. "I love you, Angel."
"And I you, Buffy," Angel told her solemnly. "Always."
End
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