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