Chapter Text
Date:
Friday, October 31st
Saturday, November 1st
Time: 12:47 am
Location: Bedroom
Slayage: 0.5 He’s not dust, but I kicked Spike’s ass pretty good.
Well… Halloween was… eventful.
Date: Saturday, November 1st
Time: 10:51 am
Location: Living room
Slayage: 0
Mom is at work. I’m cuddled on the couch in last night’s grey sweatpants and a short-sleeve white scoop neck tee (because I have no idea where that tank top is).
Joyce finally caved on her GrapeNut craze and bought some Special K. After the horrorshow of GrapeNuts, I’m looking forward to the stability Special K will bring to my life. It kind of feels like Mercury finally fell out of retrograde or whatever.
Point being, I’m cosy, I’m eating cereal, vaguely watching the Animaniacs be animanical, and I’m ready to start on a truly EPIC diary entry.
Let me set the scene: Willow and I changed at my house after school. I tried talking her into some of my clothes from my LA days when my girlfriends and I would try to sneak into The Viper Room. No joy. She had it on for about two seconds before she hid under a bedsheet, really literally. When Xander arrived, we began our return trip to Snyder’s Halls of Hell (aka Sunnydale High School).
We collected our kiddos and went on our merry way. Not to brag, but I think my kids ended up with the best chaperone. Cause do you know who spends a lot of lonely nights walking through this town? Do you know who also kind of zones out and looks at the houses? And who may have also registered which neighborhoods were more likely to give out full size candy bars?
Yours truly!
We left the high school and immediately started walking northwest to get to the fancier side of the burbs. It was pretty standard Halloween fare. We had the kids for a little under two hours, we were just wrapping up when this cold rush of wind blew through town…
I’m not going to explain this next part right.
Have you ever had an out of body experience?
Imagine the exact opposite.
Instead of being sucked outside my body looking down, it was like I was sucked into this deep pit at the very edges of my consciousness. Honestly, it kind of reminded me of when I fell into that open grave. I was lying there deep below and everything seemed so far away.
I don’t know, that probably doesn’t even make sense.
Let me try again. Pike once described his experience taking ketamine at a rave as being sucked into his body. Like he went deep inside his own mind and the rest of reality was there but super distant. I’ve never done ketamine, and after this experience, guarantee that I never will.
Where was I?
Hmm….
Oh! The wind! Right. So this really cold blast of air whipped through the streets, and suddenly Buffy-Buffy was thrown into the trunk and an entirely new person (let’s just call her Duchess-Buffy) took the wheel of my consciousness.
Then one of my trick-or-treaters turned into a bunny, and Duchess-Buffy passed the hell out. When she/we woke, all of my trick or treaters were gone. What are the odds that Snyder won’t give me detention for losing a whole group of third graders?
They’re odds I wouldn’t play! I can tell you that much.
Anyway, when she/we came to, she stumbled around aimlessly while I desperately tried to wrest back control over my own body. Over my own mind.
Yes, the physical incapacitation sucked, but honestly it was not having control over intrusive thoughts and emotions that was the worst. Every time Duchess-Buffy felt panic, I felt panic.
Which means that when Angel vamped out in front of her/us, I had the moment of just heartstopping terror when seeing a vampire for the first time. And Duchess-Buffy wasn’t like Buffy-Buffy at all. My first time? I mean scary yes, but I also tried to logic it away. Of course, it couldn’t be vampires; they’re not real! The Duchess had no such 20th century skepticism.
God, it’s been a long time since I felt that afraid.
Oh and then she/we ran into Pirate-Larry!
Ugh!
If I could go just a month without some creepo trying something while I’m incapacitated, that’d be great.
While yes, the feeling of crazy intense emotions that didn’t jibe with my Buffy-buffy headspace was really weird and disorienting, and god just awful, there were some accidental benefits.
Like, when we all had to make a run from it when Spike and his gang showed up? Angel swept me in his arms and carried her/us like a princess.
I would never normally let a guy carry me like that, it’s too, I dunno, cheesy or whatever, but I have to say, it felt really, really good. I can see why all the guys on Danielle Steele book covers are sweeping the ladies into their arms. They’re all but guaranteed to score.
And, when Angel swept her/us up, not only did my heart swoop, but Duchess-Buffy’s did too! DOUBLE SWOOP! It was like kissing him for the first time all over again (well, the part before he vamped out). How amazing is that? And when Duchess-Buffy wrapped her arm over his broad shoulders and noticed how muscular he is? Tingles ran down her/my spine, and Buffy-Buffy totally melted at the intensity of the sensation.
Mmmmm…
Yeah, that memory is going to stay with me for a WHILE.
Oooh, do you know what else felt really good?
When I got my body back and kicked Spike’s ass. For a minute there it was really terrifying. I was stuck inside my own body unable to get it to do anything that I begged it to do. I thought, ‘Oh, so this is how I die,’ and that thought was so demoralizing. I mean my god, coming back from death to beat the Master just to die at the hands of a loser who never met a bottle of peroxide he didn’t like? Pathetic.
Luckily I came back to myself just in time, and when I did, man did I wail on him! Behind every punch for him, there was also one for Larry, and the demons, and the vampires, and all the other crazy beasties that came out tonight.
Spike ran away with his tail between his legs, so I didn’t get a chance to dust him. Well, there’s always next time…
Back to the important stuff!
Angel walked over to me from where he’d been standing in front of the kids during the fight, and asked with a quietly worried and insistent voice, “Are you okay?”
When I met his eyes, so full of tender concern, well, Buffy-Buffy melted all over again. My whole body flushed with warmth and a sense of security that I’d been lacking all night.
Hand by his side, his first two fingers twitched towards the door. I doubt anyone else noticed the wordless question, but I did. I stepped forward in an equally mute answer, his left hand slid up my back as he ushered me out of the warehouse.
Stepping out into the crisp night, the residual sounds of chaos filled the air: distant sirens, urgent chatting, children crying. Rather than dropping his hand, which I expected of him, Angel curved his hand over my shoulder and pulled me into side. He dropped a kiss on my hair without breaking his stride.
When I came this way early, I really wasn’t paying close attention to where Duchess-Buffy was running, but the dimly lit row of dark warehouses and the smell of ocean salt told me exactly where I was.
“We’re by your place aren’t we?” I asked.
“A couple blocks away,” he confirmed.
“Would you… do you still want to come over? Talk?”
“Yeah, I think we need to.”
“Oh boy.” Only half-jokingly, I cautioned, “You know, nothing good ever comes after ‘we need to talk.’”
“It was your idea,” he says with a slight sardonic undertone. The corner of his mouth curled into a small smile.
“But it was a good one.”
I knew it was my turn to speak. After all, I am the one who called him last night, so we could clear the air, and I could hopefully explain my actions from this week. My behavior had been so conspicuous that it practically loomed over us, like a giant elephant in the road. A giant elephant, that though I may have summoned, I still didn’t want to look in the eye.
“So…” I said breezily. “What do you want to talk about?”
And looked at me askance as we continued walking. His expressionless eyes suggested that he didn’t find my attempts at dodging elephants nearly as clever as I did, but at least he didn’t press me to speak first.
Evenly, he stated, “Well, we’ve seen each other three times this week, and every time you’ve run away from me…”
“Two times!” I insisted. “Tonight does not count! That wasn’t me! That was… I don’t know a goofy sartorial spell or something…”
“I’m not so sure…”
“How can you say that? You saw the crazy duchess-lady! She cowered before Larry Blaisdale. Larry Blaisdale ,” I repeated slowly, as if it would make Angel any more acquainted with the guy. “I mean, she…or me… or we, whatever, god, we fainted! Over a car! You can’t seriously think any of that was real.”
He pressed his lips into a straight line. He shuffled along, still holding me to his side. After he kicked a pebble out of the street he said, “I know what fear looks like, Buffy. I saw it in your eyes tonight and I saw it on Monday, when you pushed me away…”
Oh, shit.
Guess it’s time to go hunting for elephants.
My mouth flopped open and closed a few times as I struggled over where to start. Though I knew the problem lay with me, I wasn’t sure how to explain it to Angel in such a way that wouldn’t hurt his feelings. ‘Sorry, my body may have wanted you, but I’m not sure my head was on the same page.’ That just seemed hurtful.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered.
…
………
?!??!?!
“Wait, what??” I exclaimed, completely dumbfounded by the question. Sure, I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but he’d certainly not done anything wrong!
“I didn’t mean to push you into doing something you didn’t want to do—”
My stomach began to sink.
I blustered, “But you didn’t… push—,”
“You’ve trusted me with parts of your history that I know weren’t easy to share. And I never wanted to be like all the other guys in your life, yet there I was on Monday pressuring you and pawing you like an animal. You have a right to fear me.”
“But I don’t,” I stepped out in front of him, stopping him by running my hands up his arms and laying them flat against the front of his biceps. I’d been so worried about what he must think about me, it never occurred to me that he would be wondering what I was thinking of him. This conversation wasn't going to be any easier looking in the eyes, but it felt like the appropriate thing to do.
“I really need you to hear what I’m about to say, okay?” I asked with a measured tone and deliberate slowness. “Maybe… maybe … on Monday, I was afraid, but I wasn’t afraid of you .”
“What was it then?”
My cheeks puffed out as I exhaled a long breath.
My stomach was twisted and my heart felt like a whole herd of antelope was trampling across my ribcage. This moment, right before the total honesty thing… It’s terrifying.
There’s no other word for it.
Even with all the monsters I’ve fought, taking this next step, saying the words I needed to, felt like the riskiest thing I’ve ever done.
“I might have control issues…,” I hedged. It is the truth, if you zoom way out.
Angel’s eyes widened in surprise. I have no idea what he thought I was going to say, but it clearly wasn’t that.
Granted, on their own, the words weren’t much by way of explanation, but everything I have been struggling with comes back to that truth.
“Seems like it’s been the general leitmotif of my life recently.” Though I said it as a bit of a joke, Angel heard it with the solemnity I needed him to. Emboldened by that consideration, I continued, “I lost control of my body tonight and almost got killed by Spike. I lost control over my consciousness two weeks ago and almost ended up as snake food. And that’s just in the last month. Bad things happen when I lose control…”
The concave slope underneath his left cheek bone hollowed out a bit, almost as though he were sucking the inside of his cheek in between his molars.
“So, on Monday, even though the circumstances were very different, and I very much wanted what was happening…”
“You felt like you were losing control,” he concluded.
“Yeah, and that is what freaked me out,” I said, scrunching my shoulders up in a half-apologetic shrug.
My hands fell to my sides when he crossed his arms, and his eyes went from meeting mine to staring out over my head. I chanced a small glance behind me, even though I knew there was nothing there. He kept quiet, his head slightly nodding again and again.
I wrapped my arms around myself and let my thumb idly trace some of the lace embroidery on the sleeve of the gown.
Finally, he looked at me and said, “May I ask you something?”
“Sure,” I nodded.
“On Monday, in the crypt. Was that the first time you were about to org —”
“Oh my god, no!” I hurried to cut him off. My hands flew up in the air like those of a dirty, rotten crook.
Look, I’m here, okay? I’m having mature conversations that lead to mature relationships. But for the love of Cosmo, do we have to be throwing around words like orgasm? Outloud! It’s so… clinical.
The heat rose in my cheeks, as I stuttered out, “I… I’ve umm… It wasn’t… the first. I’m familiar… with the Big O.”
One side of Angel’s mouth rose into an uneven grin, like he was desperately trying to repress a smile.
Of course, that’s when the implications of my phrasing hit me. I hurriedly added, “I mean, I’m not too familiar, it’s not like we hang ALL the time. We’re more like casual acquaintances. But we’ve, uh, we’ve met.”
“So that’s not what you needed control over?”
“No… and yes…. I feel ridiculous trying to explain it, but it’s even, even if my body wants it, and my heart wants it, my head is… It’s just, with another person, I can sometimes find it hard to…”
“Let go.” Angel said softly.
“Right.”
“That makes sense.”
“Are you… Really?”
“Really. You have the weight of the world on your shoulders. And the very nature of your calling isolates you. You’ve been taught that in the end you can only trust yourself. And that’s trust you need to have with someone, if you’re... letting go together.”
A small smile snuck out as he continued using the euphemism that I invoked on Monday. I know I do have to communicate with him more, but it’s amazing how much he picks up without me even saying it.
One hand snuck out from under the lace sleeves, and I trailed my fingers along one of his crossed forearms. When I reached his hand, I sent each of my fingers tracing his until the tips just touched.
Angel smiled as he intertwined our hands and pulled me into his arms. I tucked my chin and buried my face into his chest, and he set the top of his chin on the crown on my head.
“You are too good for me, you know?” I mused as I nuzzled my cheek against his shirt. He didn’t reply but he held me just that much closer.
Standing wrapped up in each other felt wonderful and such a sweet and stable counterpoint to the rest of my ridiculous week. Though there was nothing more that I wanted than to stay lost in that moment, we still weren’t finished discussing all our problems from that week.
He knew it too and sooner than I wanted he was pulling back. He dipped his head low and looked at me with thoughtful eyes.
“Do you want to tell me what happened Wednesday?”
Want?
No.
Very much no.
Though, I was feeling better about Monday now that my secret was out in the open. I supposed there was a chance that would happen with the disaster date-that-wasn’t, too.
“Mmmh, Wednesday,” I said with ambivalence laced through my voice. I took a step forward and tugged him along behind me by our interlaced hands. “You didn’t seem to be lonely when I showed...”
Ahh, I know it was a punk move. I should have just been braver and laid my insecurities completely bare, but, god I needed to know. I suppose know isn’t right, because in my bones I know Angel would choose me over Cordelia. I just needed to hear it from him.
“You were late.”
“And you found company.”
“Company found me.”
As we turned onto Revello Drive, Angel squeezed my hand. I looked up at him. His head was cocked to the side and his eyes glowed with the warmth of a long-burning winter fire.
“I’d rather keep company with you.”
!!!!!
The feeling of effervescence bubbled up from deep inside my heart. I tried really hard to repress a smile, but based on the sound of the low chuckle that he rasped out, I failed miserably.
I won.
He picks me.
And I’m not going to be a jerk and rub Cordelia’s face in it, but right then, in that moment? Yeah, I could totally let myself bask in the glow of victory.
“God, when you look at me like that…,” he trailed off. After a moment he sobered and asked, “So why did you leave?”
And the question threw a bucket of ice water onto my victory party.
Right. Honesty. Communication. Blah blah blah…
“I ran because I like you,” I offered, and it did feel a lot less scary saying that outloud knowing that he’d ‘rather keep company with me’.
With fair confusion, he followed up with, “You ran because you like me?”
“And, I want you to like me too?”
The upward lilt at the end of my voice reflected less that I was questioning my motives but more how they were received. Though it has to be said, the structural logic of my argument doesn’t improve with repetition.
“I do like you,” he said slowly. Enunciating every word so that I could not miss it. With a slight undertone of caution, he added, “I don’t need to chase you to know that.”
“Fi-ne,” I said, drawing the word out to two syllables and making my eyes widen to underscore that his point had been made. “Then I want you to like me more … God, that’s even why I got this stupid dress. I don’t just want to be good enough for you, I want to feel like I am, and I want others to think so too. And seeing you with Cordelia at the Bronze on Wednesday, I was just reminded how much I’m not.”
“Why would you say that?”
“You’re kidding right?”
He remained silent.
“You’ve seen you, right?”
His chiseled features again remained impassive.
“I suppose it’s probably been a minute…,” I added, wincingly. “Well you are, what some might call, a total hottie. But it’s more than that, you’ve been so good to me. These past couple of weeks have been… like something out of the movies. No one has ever been so thoughtful, planned such romantic dates, or brought me as many flowers…”
“I’ve only bought you flowers twice,” he argued, as if that still wouldn’t have made him one of the more romantic guys I’ve encountered. “Once because it was our first date and once because I wanted—”
“To apologize,” I said. Though I finished his sentence I was half in wonder at where that knowledge came from.
“Yes,” he said, one eye narrowing a bit as he surveyed me warily.
“Purple hyacinth symbolizes regret and makes a fine gift for someone with whom you’d wish to reconcile,” I recited. The voice that came out of me wasn’t mine, it was like I was quoting from a book I’ve never read.
“You’ve studied floriography?”
“No…but…,” I trailed off as I stared down at my dress with dawning understanding. “I think she did.”
“She?”
“The duchess. I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s like when she left, she left some things behind.”
Her memories existed as shadows. I didn’t feel any ownership over them nor any emotions over them, but they existed movie trailers that flitted across the back of my mind. I saw horses, needlework, a small upright piano, watercolors, and so many ribbons.
Angel prodded, “Like what?”
“Like the proper order of precedence that people should follow for entering a room, the steps to some country dances, and I think I could embroider you a pretty realistic looking peacock on a sampler if pressed,” I rattled off.
“That’s remarkable.”
“Yeah, but I also think she left some pretty out of date info on the thirteen colonies that is totally going to screw with me on my next history test.”
Angel chuckled as we walked up to the end of the drive in front of my house. The cozy craftsman was completely dark, even the small candle mom left in the pumpkin outside had been extinguished.
“Do you want to come in?”
Angel looked back at the house and then down at me. He asked, “Do we still have time? Your mother—”
“Is out at some fundraiser thing.” Gesturing to the empty spot where her car was usually parked, I continued, “Besides, she’s playing designated driver tonight, and her friend Brenda lives way out past the vineyard. I’m not expecting her home any time soon.”
“Then, yes. I would like that.”
“Good.”
We both smiled and walked up the path in silence. When we reached the steps, I grabbed the empty white plastic bowl my mom had left full of candy and held it under my arm. Angel reached out and took it from my hands without a word. Beyond being chivalrous it was actually helpful, as I needed to fish in my boots for the house key.
One of the windows in the front door was still smashed out from the earlier melee. I stepped inside and flicked on the light in the foyer, cautioning Angel to watch the glass.
“Did you shut the back door? When you left?” I asked.
“Yes, but, it wouldn’t hurt to double check that it is locked.”
Angel did a sweep of the house starting with the first floor to make sure the doors were locked and the remaining windows were secured. To try to minimize mom’s impending total meltdown, I swept up the broken glass from the hallway, and improvised a temporary window replacement with cling wrap and duct tape.
I hung the broom and dustpan on the back of the door that leads to the basement as Angel rounded the corner from mom’s office.
“All clear, upstairs too,” he assured me.
“Good,” I sighed.
Not that I couldn’t handle another fight, but well, Buffy, the slayer, had seen enough action this evening. Buffy, the girl who is hanging out with a really cute guy she wants to see and know more about, deserved her time in the sun.
Of course, Buffy also really, really needed a shower. Running across Sunnydale in a heavy gown and cowering in alleyways next to god knows what does not exactly make a girl feel super fresh.
Angel was, of course, a gentleman and waited in the hallway as I changed into my bathrobe and grabbed a pair of grey sweatpants, a black tank, and a new matching bra and underwear set of black satin. JUST IN CASE!
When I opened my door into the hallway, he stood leaning against the opposing wall with his black jacket folded over one arm and his other hand casually tucked into his pocket.
He flashed me a quick smirk and his eyes roved down the length of my purple cotton terry bathrobe and back up to my face, where he schooled his features into a perfect portrait of innocence.
I could feel a rush of heat creeping up my neck.
“Ah, ahem ,” I cleared my throat. “You can wait in my room, while I shower, if you want. But could you do me one favor?”
“Sure.”
I nodded over my shoulder to the crimson gown laying in a pile at the foot of my bed.
“Would you get rid of that for me? Burn it, trash it, I don’t care. It’s a demon dress, and I am never wearing it again.”
He let out a breathy laugh and nodded, so I stepped past him and into the bathroom.
I threw my hair up into a bun on top of my head as I didn’t have time for a full hair wash and style. My hair had been hidden by the wig, so it’d been spared from the night’s dirt. I made quick work of lathering up with my vanilla scented body wash and quickly ran a razor over my legs. Again, JUST IN CASE!
Realizing I’d forgotten an important step, I quickly jumped out of the shower and ran dripping over to the sink. I grabbed my toothbrush, toothpaste, face wash and hopped back under the warm spray.
When I finished, I wrapped myself in a thick towel and wiped the fog from the mirror with my hand. My face was freshly scrubbed and bed ready. I don’t think I’ve ever been this bare faced in front of a guy I liked, ever. This in mind, I reasoned it would be very true to who I am as a person to apply a couple coats of mascara and a quick dab of lipgloss… And maybe just a little eyeliner. I ran a brush through my hair, changed into my comfy clothes, and surveyed the look.
Not my most stunning of date outfits but maybe my most honest.
I took a steeling breath and reminded myself that Angel would ‘rather keep company with me’ before I stepped out into the hall.
“Tada,” I said as I opened my bedroom door. “Just little ol’ 20th century me.”
Angel lounged on the end of my bed. He’d already kicked off his shoes and was laying on his side, propped up by one arm. His white shirt had the top two buttons undone, and while they’d been that way all night, his current position had shifted the neckline to show more skin than had previously been on display.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, drawing my attention back up towards his caring, inquisitive eyes.
“I’ll live,” I shrugged. I moved toward the bed and Angel pushed himself up to make room for me next to him.
“I don’t get it Buffy. Why did you think I’d like you better dressed that way?”
“I just… I wanted to be a real girl for once. The kind of fancy girl you liked when you were my age.”
“Oh,” he scoffed as he shook his head.
‘“Oh’, what?”
He looked down at his black pants and said, “I hated the girls back then, especially the noblewomen.”
“You did?”
In spite of myself an embarrassed smile spread across my face. Willow was right, I had been presumptuous. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone tracing down examples of the kind of girls Angel liked, when he’s been pretty clear that there’s a good example of his type close at hand: me.
That idea warmed me.
“They were just incredibly dull. Simpering morons, the lot of them.” He then turned his face back towards me and looked me right in the eyes as he said, “I always wished I could meet someone exciting… interesting…”
A teasing grin grew on his lips at the last word.
I breathed deep and drew myself up on the bed, pulling my feet underneath me as I brought our bodies closer together.
“Really. Interesting how?”
“You know how,” he said with the brightest smile.
I leaned in closer to his face and pressed, “Still I had a really hard day. You should probably tell me.”
He moved closer as well, angling his head just so. I could feel his breath against my face as he said, “You’re right, I should.”
“Definitely,” I murmured, but it was swallowed up by his lips closing the distance and slotting gently over mine.
He kept his hands on his own legs as I leaned in and deepened the kiss. I reached up and cradled his face as I slipped my tongue between his parted lips, and only then did he raise one hand and wrapped it around my waist.
There may be a lot of challenges when it comes to Angel and me, but this part? This is as easy as falling down. All the questions and insecurities seem to melt away as I focus on the pressure of his lips on mine and the cool slide of his tongue in my mouth.
I love that his body starts out cool. It makes his kisses seem as refreshing as drinking a glass of ice water on a hot day. I also love that he grows warmer as we touch and knowing that warmth comes from my body, my lips… Almost as though the longer we kiss, the more he becomes tailor made for me and me alone.
Leaving one hand on his cheek, I wrapped the other around his shoulders as I threw a leg over him to straddle his lap. I leaned back to settle between his knees and realized too late that there was only empty air there. Fortunately, he seemed to be one step ahead of me. The hand at my waist flattened against the small of my back, and he pressed me into his front as his other arm swept under my thighs.
“Hold that thought,” he muttered, rising to his feet with me in his arms.
My mouth drifted from his lips to his jaw, peppering small kisses in a gentle line towards his ear. Angel walked us around to the side of my bed. He braced his weight on it with one knee and then leaned down to lay me across my bedspread.
“Hold on,” I said, halting him on his knees on the edge of the mattress. I flipped onto my stomach and quickly grabbed my leopard print pillow. I threw it into the gap between my bed and the wall where it was quickly joined with the rest of its decorative cohort and Mr. Gordo.
When only the comfy pillows were left, I flipped back around. Propped up on my elbows, I waved Angel closer with my hands.
“Okay, we’re good now,” I said, a bit breathless.
He smiled, looking amused and just a little bit in disbelief. On his knees, his large body towered over me.
“You are adorable, you know that?”
I mean…
Yeah, sometimes I know that…
But adorable isn’t exactly what a girl wants to be called moments before she’s kissed into oblivion.
“I think the words you were looking for were charming and irresistibly attractive,” I teased.
He smiled wider and said, “That too.”
I settled back, nestling my head into the pillows. I stretched my hand out, letting it slide over the bedspread and cross the space between us. When my knuckles brushed up against the stiff cotton of his black pants, I turned my wrist over, letting two fingers walk up his thigh towards his hip. After passing his belt, my fingers altered their course, walking across his stomach towards the buttons that ran down the front of his shirt. One step at a time my fingers marched upwards until they reached the last button clasped over his sternum. I drew my index finger over the small white button and then tucked just the tip of it on the other side of the starched cotton to feel his smooth skin.
His eyes hadn’t strayed from my face the whole time.
“Angel,” I whispered.
I’m not really sure who moved first after that, because it seemed that I was fisting my hand in his shirt and pulling him down on top of me just as he planted his hands on either side of my head and leaned in to recapture my lips.
Our position wasn’t that different from the night of our first date, when we made out on the hood of his car. Perhaps it was because we were in a bed or that he let more of his weight rest on me, but it felt far more intimate. His chest pressed against mine, his weight sinking us both into the mattress…
I snaked my hand underneath his arm and around his back letting my fingers rest on the back of his neck. The position gave me a new appreciation for how broad his back truly is. He always seems to be half hidden in shadows, so sometimes it’s easy to forget his size: the impressive height and the heavily muscled frame.
It’s easy to lose track of time kissing Angel. He kissed me like he needs it; like it’s the only thing he needs. His lips massaged mine, and he sucked, and nibbled, and licked until I felt lightheaded, and I honestly didn’t know if it’s because of his talented mouth or if I just got so wrapped up in him that I forgot to breathe. When we broke apart, I clung to his frame and my breath came in ragged spurts. He gave my swollen lips a little reprieve by trailing his mouth down my neck, but all too soon, I was grabbing his hair and pulling him back for more. Though I’m not sure how many times we repeated this cycle, ‘several’ seems like a good estimate.
Feeling emboldened by our conversation, I let my hands roam. I know I’ve mentioned this before, but I’m still so amazed at just how hard his body is to the touch. He’s all thick muscle and coiled strength. His partly unbuttoned shirt provided me with a chance to slip my hand in against his cool skin and trace the contours of his pectorals. My fingers trailed in between those two perfect shelves of muscles, before I flattened my hand over his left pec and let my palm slip over his smooth skin and raised nipple.
Angel grunted appreciatively and bit down on my lower lip.
I let the hand under his shirt roam appreciatively over the corded muscles of his shoulder and onto the hardened plane of his back. My other hand slipped below the hem of his shirt and skirted over his skin to meet it.
Angel rolled us over while my arms were wrapped in a cage around him. In one smooth motion, he’d moved from laying on my left, closer to the nightstand, to laying on my right, closer to my windows. He’d rolled me off my back too, so that we laid facing each other on our sides.
He looked over at my kiss-swollen lips and ran his fingers through my assuredly mussed hair. His hand continued stroking downward, over my shoulder and my waist, and then over my hip bone and down onto my leg.
His expression was contemplative and a little playful, like he couldn’t quite decide just where he wanted to touch me next.
As I tried to move my arms, I realized I had considerably less options. The extra fabric of his shirt had become pinned beneath him in our roll, and my arms were now trapped in the tight fabric.
“Uuhhnm,” I moaned, trying to free myself. “I’m stuck.”
“Good,” he grunted.
I looked at him in surprise but met only kind eyes as he leaned his head in and brushed a kiss on my forehead.
“I’m not planning on letting you go for a while yet.”
I saw a flash of a brilliant grin before he was kissing me again, breaking apart briefly a moment later as he pulled his shirt off and tossed it god knows where.
I hummed with delight as my hands could now reach long stretches of perfectly smooth, uninterrupted skin. Angel demonstrated his sincere appreciation of my touches by nuzzling against my neck and sucking on the sensitive patch of skin just below my ear.
His hand kept moving up and down the side of my thigh. Each time he came up, his fingers ghosted just an inch closer to my butt, but before he made contact his hand would race away towards my knee again.
After a few minutes of teasing, I mumbled, “Angel, please—”
Rather than moving up as I expected, he ran his hand down behind my knee. He pulled my leg up and over his hips and he slid one of his thighs in between mine.
My whine of disappointment was cut short and turned into a throaty cry when he grabbed my hips and pressed his thigh against me intimately. The newfound pressure hit me in exactly the right spot, so I tentatively rolled my hips and my whole body hummed.
“The sounds you make..,” Angel muttered.
My eyes must have sobered, because he was immediately shaking his head. He raised his thigh higher and swept his thumb across my lips as a guttural moan left them.
“They’re the sweetest little sighs,” he assured me. He wrapped his hand behind my head and kissed me deeply, while, at his encouragement, I rocked my hips back and forth against his leg.
An ember of pure need ignited deep in my belly, and like a bellows blowing oxygen onto hot coals, it was stoked everytime I rocked my hips against him. Moans were pulled from me at more and more regular intervals, and I felt like I was chasing my breath as well as my pleasure.
When Angel brought his hand up to squeeze my breast, my head lolled back from the electric sensation that shot through my body.
“Angel,” I panted.
Dragging his lips from my collarbone he rasped, “What? What do you want? Tell me.”
Despite the burning in my core and this pressing physical need to get satisfaction, there was still a part of myself that felt abashed about asking for what I want. And this time, I really did want it. Tonight wasn’t about proving anything. Not to Angel and certainly not to myself. Trying to be someone I’m not got me into enough trouble this week.
This was about enjoying myself. Giving myself permission to just be in the moment. I don’t get a lot of them: times when I don’t have to think about school or friends or demons and the end of the world. In this moment, it was just Angel and me, and the ecstasy building inside of me.
“I want…,” I started, hesitantly, but the gentleness in his compassionate gaze encouraged me. “I want to let go .”
I paused to let the meaning of my words sink in, because not everyone is fluent in Buffy-specific sex euphemism, though the comprehension on his face suggested that he just might be.
“I want to let go with you,” I stated with confidence.
“Yeah?”
“Will you help me?”
His eyes searched my face as though looking for any trepidation. After a moment, he flashed that little half smile and quietly said, “Yeah.”
His hand left my breast and cupped my cheek as he kissed me gently and rolled me onto my back, still straddling one of his legs. As I nestled into my pillows, I thought he’d get right down to business. That’s how it happened on Monday, anyway.
Rather than escalate the situation, my request seemed to slow things down. With a forearm braced over my head, he held his body over mine. His kisses were sweet and gentle, and his hand on my cheek urged my chin up before he began laying kisses down the column of my neck.
I scooted down on the bed to rock myself against his thigh again, but his hand came down and pinned my hip to the mattress.
“Angel,” I whined.
He brushed his nose against mine.
“Patience,” he smirked.
To which I flashed my best pout.
He pursed his lips and then dropped them back down to my neck. As he sucked on the base of my throat, right where I’d dreamed of him giving me a hickey weeks ago, and I moaned against the delightful pressure.
His hand roamed up from my hip to my waist, and I only became aware that my shirt had ridden up, when I felt Angel’s fingers sear my stomach like a brand as he touched the bare skin.
“You can take it off… if you want.”
I could feel him smile against my skin as his hand ducked under my black tank top and begin to push it up my body. I arched my back off the bed and helped him get the top over my arms.
After he threw my shirt over his shoulder, he pushed himself up and let his eyes roam over the newly exposed skin.
Instinctually, my hand flew to my chest, fanning out over my cleavage. I reminded myself that I wanted this. I wanted to show him more of myself. And even if I meant that more figuratively, this physical aspect was just as important. Showing him the parts of myself I’m a little shy over is about more than emotional baggage. So I squeezed my hand into a fist and placed it beside my head.
Generously, Angel didn’t comment on my weird little moment. Instead he was looking down at me with eyes full of joy and something like awe.
With his fingers he traced the edge of my bra over the swell of one breast down to my sternum and then up and along the curve of the other.
“Black satin,” he murmured.
“Do you like it?”
He nodded slowly. “The texture feels good to touch, though not nearly as good as what’s underneath.”
He stretched his hand over my left breast and gave it a firm squeeze as he said those words. A twinge of pleasure shivered through my body. I was about to tell him just to take the bra off too. Bra, sweatpants, underwear, whatever he wanted was his.
But then he lowered his head and swiped his tongue against the peak of my breast, and I’m pretty sure I forgot all the words. He sucked on one breast until I could feel the wetness and warmth of his mouth soak into the fabric of the bra, and then he switched his mouth over to the other.
The sensations were driving me out of my mind; I felt like if I couldn’t move, if I couldn’t get this energy out physically, I might actually get lost in him. With his weight bearing down on me, that left only my hands free to move. I clenched my fists in the bedspread; I stroked my fingers through his hair; I scratched my nails down his back and dug them into his shoulder. At the latter action, he closed his mouth and bit down on my nipple.
“God, please. Angel, please,” I begged.
He grunted against my chest and finally edged both his legs between mine. He pressed his hips forward until they were flush with him, and I could feel exactly how much he’d been enjoying our activities.
When he rolled his body and the stiff bulge in his pants hit me at just that spot , I thought I might cry in relief. And then he pulled his hips back, just to thrust forward again.
His body moved like the ocean, rhythmic and powerful. At the moment I could only feel but now looking back, I’m a little awestruck by the level of control he wields over his body’s movement. Every thrust forward he hit that spot and the simmering pleasure erupted anew.
“Oh god. I think I’m close, Angel,” I whimpered.
His tongue darted out wetting his lips. His body shifted and his hips moved away. A desperate little sob broke out of my chest as I thought he was going to stop. Rather, he repositioned himself beside me. He slipped his forearm underneath my back and wrapped his hand around my shoulder. His other hand trailed down my bare stomach and paused at the drawstrings to my sweatpants.
I nodded frantically.
My eyes closed when he leaned in to suck on my lower lip, and I felt his hand dip below my waistband. His large hand cupped me and he pressed the heel of his hand against my flesh. Then he used two fingers to draw a line up the center of my panties. I was so close that the black satin was pretty drenched and clung to me like a second skin. So when his fingers stopped over the exact right spot and drew circles, tight and fast, I careened towards the edge.
“Oh, fuck,” I cried, my hand flew out and fisted my bedspread.
“That’s it,” Angel whispered in a thick and raspy voice. “I’ve got you.”
I flicked my gaze towards him which was totally blown out. With eyes more black now than brown, he watched me intently.
“Come, Buffy.”
And ummm…
Yeah.
I did.
My god did I ever.
My whole body tensed and my thighs clamped tightly around his hand as this searing bliss crackled through my body. And then with a sigh, everything melted away.
With my body still shuddering, I curled up into a ball and rolled onto my side, into him. Angel folded himself around me, and he took his hand out of my pants to engulf me in his arms.
“Holy crap,” I panted.
Angel rested his chin on top of my head. His hands skated around in soothing circles over my back.
It took me a minute to come back to myself, to have some awareness beyond just pure sensation.
“You’re really good at that, you know,” I mumbled into his chest.
I felt his laugh more than heard it, and the vibrations of his chuckle reverberated throughout my body.
Then I added, “Thank you.”
He kissed the top of my head, and said simply, “My pleasure.”
He held me for a while. At least until my heart rate had settled back down. He left around eleven-thirty. We were pushing it, him staying that late, as my mom could have come home at any minute, but it felt so good just to be held by him, I didn’t want to let him go.
I’m still in a little disbelief that a week that started out so crappy ended in such a pleasant way, but I’ll take the win.