Reckless
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Author: Dark Star Summary: Passion doesn’t
weigh the consequences Disclaimer: Joss Whedon
is creator and owner of all things Angel/Buffy Category: Romance Timeline: Who cares? Rating: Adult Warning: This story has
a severe lack of plot. But if you like B/A fluff, read on… Distribution: Just ask,
please. * Angel’s black
convertible pulled up outside the familiar building on Revello Drive. He got
out of the car and strode up the path. It was very late, and the house stood
in darkness. He made his way round the back of the house, a route taken on
many occasions before, and saw that her bedroom light was on. Good, he thought, she’s up. He started to climb the
large tree that led up to her window, trying to ignore the sense of déjà vu
that spread over him. Suppose she isn’t
alone? Can you handle that? Ignoring the nagging
doubt, Angel reached the top of the tree and, nestling comfortably in its
leafy branches, peered into her room. Her bag and jacket lay
on the end of the bed, currently unoccupied, and he knew that she had been
out hunting. He scanned the room, really wanting to see her… Oh, Christ…
He could see her all
right. Lots of her. She wandered gracefully into his line of vision,
wearing nothing but tiny black panties. His body’s reaction to
her was immediate and uncomfortable. He shifted slightly on his perch in the
tree, staring at her in awe. She raised her hands to remove the band from her
hair; Angel couldn’t stop himself from letting his gaze sweep appreciatively
down over her body, his eyes devouring everything, from the swell of her
breasts, down to her flat stomach and curve of her hips. His gaze stayed on
her firm thighs as she dropped the band on the bed, where it promptly slid
off onto the floor, and she bent to pick it up. Angel groaned softly as
he got an even better view of her slim frame. For so long, he had been
starved of her: now, he could see her, so close and yet still untouchable to
him. It was torture. Buffy sauntered out of
sight, and Angel released the breath he didn’t know he was holding. He turned
away from her window, trying to compose himself before he faced her. He heard
her come back, but he didn’t turn to look. I can’t face her like this. I’ll be
all right in a minute. I just have to wait here until…
“Are you going to sit
there all night?” “It’s probably safer.”
He replied ruefully. Buffy smiled at him and stepped back from the window. “You’d better come in,
Angel.” Angel clambered through her
bedroom window and noticed – with a mixture of relief and disappointment –
that she now wore a pale blue nightdress. After they had stood in
uncomfortable silence for a while, Buffy said, “So. Did you come all this way
to stare at me or did you want something?” To stare at you…
Angel retrieved a book
from his jacket pocket. “Wesley found a prophesy, and…” “Oh, great.” Buffy
groaned, protectively folding her arms over her chest. Angel tried not to
notice the way it pulled the fabric tight and made her nipples stand out. “Am
I going to drown again?” I might, he thought wildly. “No, it’s more about the
Hellmouth,” he said, “And the monsters that are coming out of it.” Buffy relaxed and let
her arms drop when she realised the danger wasn’t immediate. “I’ll give it to Giles
in the morning.” She said, studying him. “You could have taken this straight
to him.” She observed, and added dryly. “Or used one of those new fangled
telephone things.” “Yes,” he agreed, his
eyes finally meeting hers. They took an involuntary step toward each other
before realising what they were doing and stopped. Buffy looked away first.
When she looked back, she had an impish gleam in her eye. “You know,” she said
slowly. “I thought you were never going to come in.” Angel remembered her
movements in front of the window, and suddenly realised she’d known he was
there all along. “You did that on
purpose,” he accused. “Of course I did,” she grinned. “Do
you think I can’t tell when you’re close?” “Very funny,” he
mock-growled, but he gave her one of his half smiles anyway. Buffy’s gaze settled on
Angel and she took a step toward him. “Tell me, Angel,” she
said, softly. “Did you like what you saw?” Angel swallowed. “Very
much,” he replied. Another step. Angel
shifted uncertainly under her intense stare. As a vampire, Angel was a
natural predator. But now, with Buffy’s gaze fixed intently on him, he had
the rather disconcerting sensation of being the prey. Another step. And
another, and she was standing right in front of him. “How have you been?” she
asked; her voice had dropped lower and she sounded husky. “Good.” Angel managed to
mutter. “And you?” Buffy shrugged. “Well,
this is Sunnydale,” she said, as if that explained everything. For long moments,
Buffy’s gaze held Angel’s. Then she said sadly, “I’ve missed you.” “Buffy…” Angel groaned
helplessly, breaking eye contact. “Don’t.” ‘Don’t what? Don’t
love you?’ She didn’t say it,
but they both remembered it. Angel sighed. This was A Bad Idea. Which of them moved,
Angel had no idea, but the next moment Buffy was in his arms and they were
sharing a kiss. The kiss stretched on, and grew deeper; neither of them
wanted to break the kiss, and Buffy moaned softly as her fingers ran up his
neck and curled in the dark hair. Slowly, she was edging him backwards until
his legs touched the edge of the bed and there was nowhere left to retreat.
He sat, abruptly, with Buffy clambering onto his lap and helping him to shrug
off his duster. The responsible part of
Angel’s brain chose that moment to resurface, and he broke the kiss. “We can’t, Buffy,” He
said, trying to sound authoritative. Buffy whimpered in
frustration, wriggling on his lap and making him groan. She knew he was
right, but she really needed him. She had been dreaming of him for days,
really vivid erotic dreams that left her with an awful aching desire for him.
That evening, on patrol, she had taken out a nest of vampires; but instead of
finding the usual release from frustration, it had only highlighted it. So
when Angel had turned up at her home unexpectedly, it had seemed like a gift. “They owe us,
Angel. After everything we’ve given up? They owe us.” He shook his head, his
hands going to her hips to hold her still. The friction was driving him
crazy. “It’s not enough.” He
replied. “We can’t risk everything…” “I need you so much.”
Buffy whispered. “Angel…” Angel didn’t answer
straight away, he was wavering, she could tell. She knew how much he wanted
her; and she knew she was risking an awful lot by trying to persuade him; but
she needed him so badly. Leaning forward, she captured his lips with hers,
letting her body argue for her. She finally felt him
surrender, responding to her kiss with a fierce passion. It had been such a
very long time. Buffy slid her hands
under his sweater and lifted it up and over his head. She repositioned
herself on his lap and wrapped her arms round his neck; his hands were gently
stroking along the contours of her body, going under her nightdress and
caressing her soft flesh. Angel felt as though he
was drowning in her. He could feel her squirming against his skin and in his
arms; her heart was thundering in her chest so loudly it was deafening to
him. But it was the smell of her that was overpowering; he could smell
everything. The aroma of her hair, and her shampoo as it brushed against his
face; her skin, the unique scent of her that he would know anywhere. He could
smell her arousal, and the blood pumping in her veins. Too much sensation;
with a low growl, he swiftly stripped off her nightdress, wondering briefly
what had happened to her panties, and cupped her breasts in his hands. Buffy moaned, leaning
back to offer them to him, and he obliged her by dropping his mouth to her
chest and teasing the hard nipple with his tongue. The displaced hand
travelled lower until it found her curls, and he slid two fingers slowly
inside her. Almost instantly, Buffy began to rock urgently on his fingers, as
she tried desperately to appease the burning need inside her. “Angel.” She moaned.
“Oh, Angel.” His fingers kept up a
steady rhythm, pushing her ever onwards, until she came, jerking violently,
as she pushed down hard on his fingers. Angel pulled his fingers
from inside her, making Buffy mewl with the loss of contact. But when she
felt him fumbling with his zip, she raised her body and eagerly helped him
push his clothing down over his hips. Slowly, so slowly, Buffy lowered
herself down onto his lap, making them both groan from the contact, until he
was sheathed fully inside her. “Oh, god.” Buffy moaned.
The relief as he filled her, stretched her inflamed skin, was incredible. Angel’s arms tightened
around her, as his lips traced a frenzied path round her throat. Buffy sat motionless,
content to just feel him inside her, his lips worshipping her. When his hands
went to her hips she understood what he wanted, and, deliberately clenching
and rippling her muscles, began to ride him. It was Angel’s turn to groan, as
he jealously wondered who had taught her to do that; but it didn’t matter now
because she was with him, and all thought fled as his hands helped to guide
her, giving him the friction he needed. With lips joined in a
passionate kiss, doubling the pleasure, Angel drove her on, making her ride
him harder. Buffy set up a punishing pace that would have been too fast for
any normal couple; her body craving the harsh and strenuous contact. Angel cried out when he
came, his whole body going into spasm, and triggering Buffy’s own orgasm.
Shuddering with the fire that started in her gut and tore through her body,
Buffy lurched against Angel’s strong chest, and he instinctively enfolded her
in his arms. Coming down from the
incredible high of her orgasm, Buffy slowly became aware of Angel’s skin
against her face, his arms protectively surrounding her. She pulled back a
little, so that she could look up at him. “Angel,” She started,
awkwardly, “I…” “Ssh,” He said softly,
his fingers stroking her cheek, and leant in for a soft, almost chaste, kiss. “Buffy.” Angel said
quietly when the kiss ended. “Whatever happens, remember that I love you.” Buffy’s eyes prickled
with unshed tears, and she blinked them away. “I love you.” Later, lying silently
entwined on Buffy’s bed, they waited. Waited for the agonising pain to kick
in, for the consequences of their actions to come back and haunt them. And
when the time passed and nothing happened, they still waited, not quite
believing that The Powers had relented, and let them have this one special
night. Finally, Angel broke the
silence. “You know we can’t do
this again, don’t you?” “I know.” She murmured
into his chest, enjoying the feel of his fingers lazily stroking her arm. She snuggled even closer
to him, wrapping her leg round his and pressed as close as she could. She
wanted to remember as much about him as possible; how his skin felt against
hers, the softness of his hair. Because she knew that after tonight, he
wouldn’t come near her again for a very long time. But she had a secret wish
that she had never shared with him. In her world anything could – and usually
did – happen. Spells and potions could make all things possible, and she had
fantasized about him turning human so many times, that she could almost believe
she had kissed him in the sunshine. One day, she thought. One day… The End. Return to Fiction Index
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