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Reckless


 

 

 

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.

 

 

 


 

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