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Quicksand
OK now the monster is awake.
~ Quicksand, Incubus ~
Part One ~ Part Two ~ Part Three ~ Part Four ~ Climax
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Posted November 19, 2007 Completed Five Parts – 239 pages
Rating NC-17/MA Adult Sexual Situations Slight Drug Reference
Disclaimer Not mine!
Distribution If you already archive my stories then feel free, otherwise please ask
Timeline N/A – Alternate Universe
Pairing Buffy & Angelus With a small side order of Faith & Spike and Willow & Oz
Summary Lust is the catalyst but what lurks underneath is the true danger
Translation Gaelic = English milsean = sweet fiorfe = perfect ailleacht = beauty
Many Thanks To Kay, beta-extraordinaire
Dedicated To my dear friend Dani, you’re always in my thoughts *smooch*
EBOOK It’s free! (894 kb) |
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I would have recognized him anywhere.
His body was forever etched in my mind; there was no need to ask myself ‘is it him?’ It was him…facing me yet…I could not see his face. Shadows always kept him hidden behind their dark and mysterious walls; a visage of pure beautiful masculinity that I was sure was there if only I could see him.
He raises his hand, he crooks a long lean finger at me…telling me to come to him, and I cannot refuse.
There is no resistance in my body to his sensual bidding. My feet start moving, the prospect of what is about to happen - pure erotic enticement. My mind attempts to halt my fall from grace - danger, heartbreaker – but I do not listen. The pleasure that awaits me in those sure and all consuming hands drive me forward.
I am but a slave to his passion, to his every desire and want. My submission is the spark that ignites my cravings to a fevered pitch.
I can feel the beginnings of desire moisten my panties with each step I take. It’s exceedingly pleasurable yet uncomfortable at the same time as the satin material clings to my engorged lips, but I remain steady on my path to destruction, to despair.
I sense the intensity of his eyes as he stares intimately into mine. I want to see the color of those orbs. I want to bask in the depth of emotion that I know is there. But I can’t and it frightens me but I do not stop…I keep walking.
My hands are getting sweaty and I frantically rub them down the sides of my thighs. I can feel his eyes follow my hands path, caressing me so sensually, yet not touching. It’s just one more stimulant to my overheated body. Coaxing me to walk faster. To claim my pleasure prize.
I stop.
I’m right where I need to be…in front of him.
He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t need to I know what he wants, what he demands of me, and once more I submit to his unspoken command.
I feel his eyes follow my lips as my mouth moves closer to his. My hands lay flat against his smooth shaven cheek, and the instant my skin touches his, my breath hitches and my pulse races faster as I feel the electric current soaring through my body.
He stands still letting me explore him, giving me control.
At first my exploration is slow and steady. My lips lightly graze his plump top lip and I feel the light yet seductively heavy touch of his hand on my bare back. I groan softly as I pull his bottom lip gently in between my own, sucking lightly then laving it with my wet tongue.
He is pure masculinity.
One hundred percent alpha male.
His primordial essence has me dripping wet and ripe for his taking, yet…he doesn’t move.
My lips casually slide across his, I can feel the tension in his body and my preconceptions about his alpha male persona are confirmed. My slow pace is killing him. It feels like he’s straining to control his own desire, to change the tempo and take control. And the fact that he doesn’t, that he’s willing to just stand there and let me lead the kiss tossed another log onto the already flaming fire of lust that was ablaze inside of me.
I continue to probe that luscious mouth, kissing him slow and unhurried…playfully seducing him with my mouth when I feel his able hand pushing against my back and his fingers flexing greedily into my skin. His other hand is suddenly on my cheek, grasping my chin and forcing my mouth to open wider. He’s had enough of my slow sexual pursuit.
I moan as my foot steps forward and my heaving breasts painfully press up against his hard chest. My mouth opens wider and my tongue pushes forward into his warm mouth just as his lips completely close over mine. His tongue reaches out and meets mine in the middle. They slide over each other, tasting, and exploring.
The kiss turns deeper, ravaging…hungrier. Moans of unsurpassed pleasure and need become ever louder, deafening me. His hands are holding on to me so tightly so…possessively, that I shiver with intemperate lust.
I never want it to stop. I want to stand there all night and love him with my mouth, but he doesn’t allow that.
He yanks me against him. His hand slides down my back then rests on my waist. He’s all business now. He’s decided that he’s taking over this conversation of unspoken words and lustful advances.
I can feel his eyes lingering on my face with the most intent sexual predatory gaze that I ever felt. Then he moves in, determined now to finish what I started. His lips hover above mine, my tongue sensually slides over my lips, wetting them, making them ripe for his plundering.
He takes another step closer, my breath hitches, my body blazes as I feel his tumid desire nudge my belly. I can’t help but push against him and I’m rewarded by the playful yet urgent twitch of his arousal against my silk covered skin.
He turns us around and throws me up against the abrasive wall, completely manhandling me. But he goes no further than that. He’s completely still and I can’t stand it. He’s so intense, so obscenely male and determined that my clit throbs uncontrollably. Yet he just continues to stand there, his brawny appendage impatiently lurching against me, just as angry with him as I am with his lack of momentum.
My eyes smolder showing the raging emotions that are coursing through me and though I can’t see his, I know that his are volatile. Stormy and unsettled, expressing to me what his lips did not.
It was a test, this unbearable motionless route that he initiated, on our way to the perfect peak that we would discover with one another. It was madness, of the most brutal kind, sadistic in its silence, and it was driving me crazy. I didn’t know what this assessment was about nor did I know if it was for me or him, I only knew that I could not take much more of it.
I can sense the struggle in his shadowy gaze, the confusion, the deep soul-binding passion that was consuming him the more he just stood there, the more he fought it. I understood because it was what I felt as well but my compassion for his puzzlement was empty. He might have been unsure, testing the waters of his own powerful attraction to me, but I wasn’t. I knew what I wanted and I knew that he was the only one to give it to me. My heart tugged at my callousness but I ignored it, feeling no sympathy for his puzzled state. Instead, I decided that I would give him just one more minute to act and if he didn’t then I would take that choice away from him.
Thank God I didn’t have too.
His fingers slowly move against the thin barrier of my silk dress, burning my skin, heating it to an explosive degree.
His mouth decisively covers mine on the husky note of a breathless word that I can’t make out. I am his for the taking and God help me but I want nothing else.
He grabs my arms, lifting them over my head and against the wall, as he fully leans against me, pressing me back against the cold brick of the building.
His mouth continues to ravage mine, and the small whining noises that left my mouth as he slides his lips over my cheek, were mewling and so full of need that I don’t recognize it as my own.
My hands flex under his relentless grip, desperately needing to touch him. And I find that I’m not above begging…not when it comes to him.
“Please…”
He complies with my plea, his hands release mine then quickly grab the sides of my face and tilts it up to the sky, as his mouth moves down my throat, sucking my skin, licking the flames of desire to an unfathomable height.
My hands are free now and they move…quickly…down to his strong shoulders, my fingers flex hungrily, my nails dig into his flesh as his mouth latches on to a sensitive spot on my shoulder blade.
My whole body tingles in a mix of fear and insatiable hunger. I want so much from him, everything that he has, everything that he still had yet to give me. My mind imagines what it would feel like if that hot mouth was settled over my heated core, tasting the very essence of my desire. It’s so detailed, so graphic, that as his mouth latches on to a protruding nipple I shiver as my body responds to the visual tapestry of the fantasy playing out in my head. I come, brilliantly so, my breath expels in shallow pants as my lower body rocks against his hard member. It was the most divine orgasm I ever had, given to me by the simplest of touches. It was sweet and unhurried, yet exceedingly potent in its response, but it was a tease, because I instinctively knew that what would come next would be a hundred times more explosive.
He moans as my body shutters against him. I can feel his hands as they palm their way down the sides of my body, pressing into my skin, shaking with need. It feels so good, so unlike anything I ever felt that my own desire is rejuvenated quickly.
I grab his head and take his mouth into mine, plundering him endlessly as he plundered mine.
His hands leave my body, and I whimper with the lost. I hear the sounds of a zipper being undone, the swoosh of clothing moving against hard muscles, and then before I have time to catch my breath, to even wonder how he would flawlessly fit inside of me, he was there.
His turgid flesh slides effortlessly inside my wet heat. I release his mouth, my eyes close as I lean my head against the wall. We moan in unison at the joining that felt like it was always meant to be. Behind my eyes I can see him, his strong body moving inside and then out, muscles flexing as he strains against the need to go faster, to plunder my body with strong sure strokes.
He stops moving. I feel his intense gaze on my face and I open my eyes just as I hear his hoarse yet muffled demand.
“Look at me.”
I do. Quickly. Needing him to move, needing him to fulfill this desire that’s been brimming inside of me.
He nods his head, pleased that I obeyed him, and with his hands gripping my waist, I raise my leg wrapping it around his hip and then…he slowly pulls out.
I know my eyes were once more stormy with my disgruntlement over his measured entry and the lack of the roaring fire that I so desperately needed to feel. His shadowed face keeps looking at me, I sense a spark of something in his dark gaze, but I can’t decipher what it is. And frankly, in that moment, of his slow unhurried strokes of my wet and welcoming flesh, I don’t care. I want only one thing and I’m not afraid to demand it.
“Faster.”
His façade is that of control but the twitch of his cock inside of my sheath, his fingers that dig into my waist evermore, are clear signs that he liked my throaty command.
I stare back into his indistinct face, waiting for him to once more comply with my wishes, but he continues to just watch me, as he once more pulls all the way out and then inch by godly inch gradually sinks back in, hitting my womb.
My head falls back again, unable to look into the hidden passion that is so strong yet so controlled. The depth of his self control puts my own lack of to shame. But with my next husky plea I knew that the control he had was tenuous at best, only requiring one small sensuous and full of need push to send him over the edge.
“Please…I want more…”
I can feel his full smile touching my skin, as he grunts his approval then pulls out and slams back inside of me.
His thrusts are forceful now, hurried, moving fast and hard. My naked back is scraping against the rough brick but I don’t care, the screams that are coming out of my mouth are not of pain but pleasure.
Once more he grabs my chin, bringing my mouth to his as he thrusts his tongue inside, fucking my mouth as fast as his cock fucked my body.
Just as I knew it would be…it was perfect. And although we made love in a darkened alley behind a noisy club, though the sounds that echoed off those barren walls were pure animalistic cries of heady lust and need and not devote cries of love and affection, it did not matter…it did not lessen the rightness of our joining.
And in that moment, when a billion lights exploded behind my closed lids and my body shook uncontrollably with the most exemplary and commanding explosion it had ever been gifted with, I knew…
…that this had happened before…
…I knew it would happen again…
…I knew my mysterious dream lover would return to wreak havoc on my body…yet never show his face. Only to love me and then leave me when the sun would shine and my eyes would once more open to reality.
And when they did…
She clenched her pounding heart, her eyes swelled with tears of misery, as her core throbbed with lusty aches for the true and realistic touch of such a lover and not the false completion these dreams gave her…night after night.
She rolled over to her side, clutching her belly, as she looked out the window and into the dark sky. Murky and mysterious just like him. Why was his face never revealed to her? Why did he keep torturing her this way? What had she done that was so bad that God would see fit to punish her so?
She knew she would get no answers to her questions. She knew she would get no peace this night.
She rose, naked and sweaty from her drenched bed; her feet tiredly carried her to the bathroom. Stepping into the shower, she blasted her overheated body with ice cold water and she screamed with rawness from the pent up frustration and despair that she felt right down to her very soul.
Please God, make it stop…
********
“It happened again last night.”
She heard the sound of her voice, weary, tired…always so tired, yet she could no longer hide the fatigued echo of a voice that was once happy and full of sarcastic wit, just as she could no longer control the tears that spilled out of her eyes.
“The dream?”
“Yes.”
“Was it like the others?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me?”
Two simple words that she had heard so many times in the past six months that she knew they were coming long before he said them. They were so…aloof, that they angered her now just as they always did. She was paying a lot of money to see him, Dr. Rupert Giles, the leading dream expert in Los Angeles County, the least he could do was sound more…interested.
“You know how they go.”
She didn’t need to look at him to know he was thoroughly disgruntled with her snappy comment. She could hear his deep sigh; it was his ‘Lord give me patience’ sigh, followed by the clear sound of his pen dropping on his pad and the rustle of cloth as he pulled out his handkerchief to clean his eye glasses. She wondered if he knew how clearly his actions spoke of his emotions. Probably not, he was too pretentious.
“They are not always the same, are they?”
God, he was so…technical.
“No.”
“So tell me.”
It was her turn to roll her eyes and show him how much he was annoying her. She wiped at the tears on her cheeks, irritated that they kept falling, as she started her account of the dream on a deep sigh of her own.
“I’m in a club…”
“Well that’s different, last time you were where…in the mountains, yes?”
What was that sound? Oh, my teeth grinding together.
“Yes,” she hissed at him then immediately felt his blue eyes piercing her in exasperation. He followed that up with his usually clipped British ‘I’m always right’ tone.
“Continue…”
For some reason, though she came here of her own free will - which by the way was costing me a fortune - she just wasn’t up to another long and winded explanation of the same shit. So instead she gave him the cliff notes version.
“I was at a club. And before you ask, no, I don’t know where. He was there and again, no, I couldn’t see his face, and then, like all the other dreams, I attacked him. On second thought, attack isn’t really the word. I mean it’s not like I hurt him, at least, it didn’t feel like I hurt him. No, I’m pretty sure that bulge in his pants was a clear…”
“Ahem…Buffy, I believe you’re getting off track.”
She looked at him dumbly… hello this is why I’m here!
“Giles, you say that every time I get to this point in the dream, it’s really getting annoying.”
There it was again, that deep sigh, the search for patience.
“That is because it is not what is important.”
“Not what’s important? Are you sure we’re in the right places? Maybe I should be sitting there tapping away on my neat and prim little notepad while you lay here and get belittled.”
“Buffy, I am not belittling you. You are just being overdramatic and defensive.”
She turned away from him because she knew what was coming next.
“We’ve been over this before Buffy. These dreams are a reflection of your deep sadness of what you lost. They are not, as you have put them, a sign from God.”
“Fate Giles. Gees, if you’re going to quote me at least get it right.”
There it was again, his annoyed deep sigh, she smiled; I was really pushing his buttons today.
“Of course, my apologies.”
Was that his teeth grinding together now?
“Regardless of how you are interpreting them, they are neither fate nor a sign from the Powers That Be. They are simply a reflection of the pain and hurt that you feel from Riley’s indiscretions.”
“Giles, I’m not pained by Riley’s, let’s call it like it is okay…cheating. Besides that happened a month ago and it was a good thing because it made me realize that I didn’t love him and probably never did.”
“Time is irrelevant when it pertains to betrayal from someone that you trusted. And I’m glad that you had a break through as far as your feelings for Riley were concerned. But the fact still remains that these dreams are a sign of the deep yearning you have to feel love and affection, the intimacy of having a strong connection to someone, an emotion that Riley was never able to give to you.”
Well he could be right there, to a point at least. Riley was never able to give me the love and affection that I needed because I didn’t love him. So how could he?
“Okay Giles, I’ll agree with you but still there’s something different about these dreams. The man…”
“Is simply an apparition of what you are longing for.”
An apparition? Hell no he was seriously wrong this time. This obscure figure was definitely no ghost. I could feel every single muscle in his hard body when he pressed up against mine. I could taste the saltiness of his skin.
“Giles, it’s more than that. He’s real. I can feel it in my soul. He’s a real person out there somewhere. I know it.”
She sat up because she really needed to see his facial expression for what she was about to say.
“Giles, it’s almost like the dreams aren’t dreams at all but…”
Dare she say it, the words that would surely cinch the ‘certifiable’ label that she knew he was going to stick on her forehead the moment the words came out of her mouth? Well of course she was. This was what she paid him $200 an hour for. Besides, it didn’t really matter what he said because she knew that she was not crazy. She knew that what she felt in those dreams was true…real. It was too strong to be anything other than that.
“…premonitions.”
Bingo! There it was, slapped smack dab in the middle of her forehead.
Her eyes became slits of irritation as she stared back into his condescending gaze. He had a very amused smirk on his face like he was listening to a whimsical four year old tell him about her visit from the Tooth Fairy instead of a grown woman with a head on her shoulders.
God, her jaw was starting to hurt. If her teeth kept grinding together like this she’d have none left.
“Buffy now you are just being fanciful. There are no such things as premonitions or visions. That is just your over active imaginative mind protecting you from the truth.”
She wasn’t listening to him. The moment she saw that look she blocked him out and started to analyze it herself.
“Actually, premonition isn’t the word either. It’s more like deja’vu like I know him from somewhere. God, it’s so aggravating because I can’t see his face, but I know it’s always him in every dream. He’s so damn familiar. Where the hell do I know him from?”
“Buffy…”
“Maybe I’ve seen him on the road somewhere?”
“Buffy…”
“Or maybe a store?”
“Buffy…”
“Or…oh, Giles what if I know him from a past life or something like that? Ha, talk about fanciful…”
“BUFFY!”
She looked over at the normally prim and proper Doc to see his face as red as the skirt she was wearing.
“If you insist on paying me for my services, than I must insist that you listen to what I have to say and stop all of these…these…capricious ideas that have absolutely no scientific reality or logic.”
Excuse me? A ‘dream doctor’ was telling me about things that had absolutely no scientific logic or reason? Mmm…maybe I should be sticking that label on his forehead.
He stood up and walked over to his desk a clear indication that ‘my time was up’.
“Now…that’s it for today. Please think about what I’ve said. You must be reasonable about this. If you wish for our meetings to be productive you must be willing to meet me halfway.”
********
The sun was glaringly bright as she stepped outside the wide double doors and onto the street. Reaching into her pocket book she pulled out her black sunglasses and put them on, her feet carrying her down the marble stairs and to the sidewalk.
Her face was drawn tight in consternation as she made her way down the block and to her car, once more, questioning her own sanity. Was she crazy or just desperate, crazy or just desperate, desperate or just crazy? She couldn’t decide.
Was I crazy? Had I actually convinced myself that I could predict the future in my dreams? Well yeah I did. But was it plausible? Did such things exist?
Or was Giles right?
Was I just desperate? Were these dreams just a fruition of my over imaginative mind? Was my unconscious seeking fulfillment in the dream state that I never received from any of my other previous lovers?
Or, was I a loon for even seeing a Dream Doctor to begin with?
She chuckled softly, “Most definitely.”
From a logical stand point, the ‘just desperate’ explanation would make sense. Thinking back her track record with men was not good nor were they long running marathons either. She’d had three lovers in her life and not one of them was worth more than a sentence or two to describe how fulfilling they had been.
Boyfriend number one, Parker, the first man she had sex with, well boy actually. He really wasn’t much of a man because she truly believed that any real man would not look for sex outside of the relationship he was already in, but Parker did and it had hurt - incredibly so. But after a week or two she realized that what hurt the most was that she actually gave herself to a prick like that. That she had been blinded by his boyish good looks and – now that she thought about it – sleazy charm, that she didn’t see past the façade he put on to see the real ‘boy’ that was inside. And the sex, well for her first sexual experience it had been okay until she realized that he was completely self-absorbed and didn’t give two flying fucks about her pleasure. For Parker, sex was only about him. So that relationship ended rather quickly and on pathetic sour note of self-loathing.
Boyfriend number two, Spike. Actually he really wasn’t a boyfriend at all. He was more like a 24 hour sex-convenience store. A great guy but he wasn’t one for sticking around for the whole ‘bloody pain in the arse relationship crap’ as he put it, which actually suited her rather well. After the Parker incident, she wasn’t looking for that either, so instead they shamelessly used each other’s bodies. She snorted, at least she went up the sex-ladder and not down, because the sex was good, actually compared to Parker it was outstanding. Spike had been a selfless lover as well as taking what he wanted when he wanted it. It had been a satisfying arrangement until she just started to feel empty inside after every meeting and she realized that sex with Spike wasn’t everything. Sure he could satisfy her body but everything else just felt…incomplete. Pointless and going nowhere. The funny thing was that from the first moment that his lips touched hers she knew that was how it would always be with him. She wasn’t sure why she went ahead and started to sleep with him. Maybe a part of her thought that if they had sex enough times than deeper feelings would grow for both of them and that sense of belonging to each other would be there. But that never happened and after about two months of using each other the whole torrid thing ended.
That relationship – if that was what you even called the mutual using of each other’s bodies for sexual release – ended rather well. They had both felt that the pleasure they once shared in each other’s arms had become unfulfilling. Even if they hadn’t it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, because once Spike met her neighbor Faith he had a whole new outlook on relationships and casual sex. So we ended it and they started it.
Last but hopefully not least, boyfriend number three - and her current, well ex-current, hemorrhoid affliction - Riley. She really thought she could have had something with him. He was cute, had a great bod and he was a decent all American guy. You know the farm bred type, all American football quarterback that came to the big city of Los Angeles to attend UCLA on a scholarship. That’s where they met. In the bookstore during her senior year, actually it was two months after Spike.
They hooked up rather quickly and before she knew it they had already been dating for two and half years and he moved in to her house. Her brow crinkled, she wasn’t exactly sure how that happened, she wasn’t looking for that next step but she somehow managed to get it anyway.
Looking back at their entire relationship she could not deny that when she first met Riley she must have been sex-starved and desperate. He was a nice guy and the sex was nice - alright I’m lying, instead of jumping back on that ladder and climbing it to the top to perfect sex I slid down with both hands – but it was completely uneventful. It was mechanical boring sex that would at times grant her a small reprieve in the form of an orgasm that she would rate on the Orgasm Richter scale as a number three.
As a lover Riley was too tentative. He was too considerate. Too kind. He always asked her how it was afterwards. Did she come? What did he do wrong or right? His lovemaking was soft and sluggish, and not in a good building up the pressure kind of way it was more like he was unsure of what he was doing.
The bottom line…it was a complete turn off for her.
She didn’t want to have to say whether or not she enjoyed it. She wanted a lover that could read her body language with all the cocky confidence of a man whose self assurance bordered on arrogance. And while she enjoyed a slow leisurely pace and the budding desire that it built, sometimes she just wanted to be fucked, plain and simple. She also believed that slow sex only worked with the right man, and seeing how unsatisfactory sex was with Riley, only strengthened that believe.
She also didn’t want nor did she need to hear words of love whispered in her ear every single time. Sometimes, all she wanted was to hear the deep guttural declarations of all the ways her lover was going to take her and nothing else. That was hot, that was bone sizzling, soul searing passion. Fiery emotions like that spoke more than just stupid words. That was what she wanted, nothing more and nothing less. And she most definitely did not have that with Riley.
That’s how she knew Giles was wrong. Because discovering Riley in the arms of her slut neighbor had been a Godsend. It snapped her out of the fog she had been living in. She wasn’t in love with Riley and the sex was mediocre. The only reason she had stayed with him was because she fell into the routine and she had never been inspired to change it. Finding Riley screwing Harmony – which by the way totally changed her acuity of him being that All American Conservative type - was the perfect excuse for her to get out of that boring go–nowhere relationship that lacked absolutely everything she really wanted to begin with.
Note to Buffy: send Harmony some flowers and a box of chocolates.
Picking up her pace, she turned the corner to the parking lot snorting with disdain at the pathetic history of her love life, which in her opinion, had been the entire Richter scale of lovers. One was selfish, the other too empty, and the last too timid. God it was frustrating. It was no wonder she couldn’t kick these erotic dreams that had plagued her for the past six months. There had to be a happy medium in there somewhere, didn’t there? Was it possible that lovers only fell into one of those three categories? She really, truly hoped not because otherwise she was doomed to a life of humdrum sex and fruitless relationships.
God she hated this.
Every time she walked out of Giles’ office she felt as if she had been treated like a child. Every time she got to the part in the dream when the mysterious man appeared – which to her was the most important part - he rationalized it, which only made her reassess all of her previous relationships - which is what she was doing right now – and she hated doing that. But she couldn’t avoid it because Giles and his damn rationality always triggered it.
‘Meet him half way’ is what he said, umpf, did he ever meet her half way? No. Not once did Giles ever stop to consider even the remote possibility that her dreams were something else. He didn’t take her serious at all. He never listened to any of her suggestions as to what the dreams might mean. For him it was simple. There was nothing mystical or magical about them, it was only a matter of inner id’s and analytical deduction.
Why the hell was I bucking up and shelling out stupid money that I don’t have to spend on a dream doctor whose thinking was so rigid?
Finally making it to the parking lot she turned right and headed for the gleaming black BMW M3 that sparkled in the sun. Another frivolity she couldn’t afford but she didn’t care. She had always promised herself she would buy one, one day, and when she graduated from UCLA and her internship turned into a full time position, she started to make more money and decided that she would get it. She could barely afford the monthly payments now, along with all the other money she had to dish out every month but she didn’t care. She loved her car and she wouldn’t give it up for anything. Besides, at least her car didn’t criticize her. At least her car listened to her. Not like Giles.
She hit the button on the key fob, the car beeped, the alarm deactivated and the door unlocked. She opened the door, threw her bag on to the passenger seat, and then eased her body down into the ergonomically designed seat, closing the door. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Breathing deep, her hands gripped the steering wheel, her mind replaying her last thought like an echo in her head.
Why exactly was she persecuting herself this way? Why did she continue to see Giles when she really didn’t think she was getting anything out of it besides aggravation and a dismal trip down memory lane?
That answer was transparently easy to retort. She couldn’t take the dreams anymore. They were just too wicked, too sinisterly hot, and they wouldn’t stop. They just kept coming and coming, night after night. They were making her insane. She had to talk to someone about them, if she didn’t she would surely go mad and end up in a padded cell somewhere.
When they’d started she’d still been with Riley. They didn’t start mellow and fuzzy either, no they started with a God forsaken vengeance.
Unlike what Giles believed, they were not always the same, well not exactly at least. Where she was in the dream always differed but the plot of the dreams – the most important thing about them - was always the same…unbridled lust and hunger, and the creator of that desire was always there.
The shadowy figure dressed in black.
He was the one common denominator in every single dream, and she never, ever saw his face. She had absolutely no clue what he looked like. She didn’t know if he was blonde or brunette, blue eyed or brown. She didn’t know if he was light skinned or tanned from the sun. The simplest of things that everyone took for granted she was ignorant about. But she wasn’t completely in the dark – thank God or she’d surely be locked up by now - there were lots of things she did know.
For instance, she knew that his lips were smooth and plump, the perfect instrument for the perfect kiss. She knew because every time their lips touched in the dream his felt like satin sliding across her own. They were a sensuous doorway to a mouth that tasted like rich deep chocolate, all warm and heated to a melting degree, sliding down her throat like thick hot fudge. Those kisses were a drug. Those lips a weapon all on their own that could easily shoot her body into a fevered pitch.
And it didn’t stop there.
She also knew that he was tall and big. She was only five foot five and she would estimate him to be about six foot three because in the dreams she had to stand on her tippy toes to kiss those scrumptious lips.
She also knew that he had wide strong shoulders. She could feel their brawn when she balanced her hands on them after he would effortlessly pick her up and bring her to his eye level.
She knew that his thighs and arms were hard and muscled by the way they pressed against hers when he drew her closer to him.
As her hands earnestly explored his body she knew that his chest was sculpted to perfection and that his abs were washboard tight then tapering off to a trim waist.
And God help her but she knew that he had big hands, hands that when they touched her made her feel like the most cherished woman in the world. They were magical hands. They touched her reverently, rough yet gentle, hard yet lightly. They titillated her body and fed her soul. They gave her everything she was looking for in a lover as they took her to the heights of a passion she had never before felt.
The dreams had become the thing she dreaded the most when the sun fell and the stars shone in the sky, and the curse that she damned upon awakening…alone. After so many months you would think that she would have gotten a grip on her desperation but she hadn’t. The dreams were as cutting today as they were when they first started. Every detail of every dream was drilled in her mind.
After the first dream happened she woke up practically drowning in her own sweat. She thought her heart was going to explode out of her chest from how fast it was beating. Her veins felt like her blood was pumping so fast that they were going to pop right out of her skin. And her core, good God, she had been so wet that she could have wrung out her panties and made her own private Lake Erie right there in her bedroom.
Her body had been so tight with lust, so fevered with wanting that she couldn’t move. It took an hour just to calm down enough so she could get out of bed. And when she finally did, she only made it to the shower and turned the water on before a memory of the dream crossed her mind and sent her body into desperate heated overdrive again. She’d spent another hour in the shower after that, taking care of the demanding needs of her aching core. It had helped but the dream lingered with her the rest of the day which made work and pretty much anything else she had to do extremely difficult.
After that first dream, one week went by before it happened again, and it was the same scenario all over again. Only the remnants were stronger, the desire thicker, the lust more uncontrollable. By the time a month had past they were occurring every other night. She was in a constant state of arousal. In a perpetual horny mood all the fucking time and it was killing her. Satisfying herself just wasn’t cutting it and sex with Riley didn’t help relieve it either.
Finally she broke down and told Willow, Faith, and Spike about it.
Spike had laughed and said he wasn’t surprised and said in his oh so British way, “What do you expect luv you’re shagging Captain Cardboard for fuck’s sake”.
Willow on the other hand took it down a different route. She was such a hippie. She was the perfect example of the California Girl who grew up with hippy parents, someone that was taught that everything happens for a reason and that we have no control over our destinies, that everything is pre ordained. “Sometimes dreams are a reflection of things to come.” Is what she said. She then handed Buffy the business card of Dr. Rupert Giles, Dream Analyzer. She said she saw him whenever she had a dream that affected her so deeply, and that she always walked away with a clearer understanding of the dream and herself.
Me? I walk out feeling more disturbed then when I went in.
They felt so damn real that they didn’t even feel like dreams. They felt like a part of her. And when her eyes would snap open in the morning, and the faceless man disappeared, she felt incomplete, like a part of her was missing. It was those unshakable vibes that were slowly convincing her that Willow was right and Giles was wrong. There was more to the dreams and more to her indistinguishable lover. There had to be.
Why, because you wanted it to be? You are so pathetic.
Her eyes opened as she shook her head, “I am nuts. Maybe I should see a shrink instead.”
She released the death grip she had on the steering wheel and started the car. The engine purred like a big cat ready to pounce, smooth and strong, and it offered her a weird sense of comfort. She disengaged the emergency brake, put her foot on the clutch and threw it in reverse.
Crazy or just desperate? She couldn’t figure it out and her meetings with Giles were getting her nowhere. The constant pull of war between the passionately strong conviction that these dreams meant more than just a dream and the sound logic of psychological reason, not only left her in a state of unending arousal but also completely daft.
Putting the car in first gear, she rolled up to the edge of the driveway then pulled out onto Santa Monica Boulevard. She was so drained. She hadn’t had a good night sleep in months and the way things were going right now she couldn’t foresee any reprieve.
********
Thirty minutes later, she walked into the house and plopped down on the couch. Throwing her feet up on the coffee table she leaned her head back, threw an arm over her eyes, and took a deep dramatic breath.
The couch suddenly dipped and a warm arm was thrown over her shoulders. “I love her as much as you do pet, but when are you going to tell her that this dream doc shit is just that…shit.”
She smiled; leave it to Spike to be so…blunt.
“I don’t want to hurt her feelings. Why don’t you tell her?”
“Because I don’t want to be blasted with her ‘resolve’ face, it scares me.”
Buffy laughed at her best friend, but her chuckle ended on a moan of frustration. “He keeps telling me the same thing.”
He snorted, “And so do I. Look you and I both know that you were never in love with Riley, and that sex was never good with him anyway. I know you remember, and I told you from day one that he was not man enough for you.”
She smiled; he did know her, very well indeed. It was funny, her relationship with her ex-lover, who was now her best friend. They talked about everything, they were not shy, nor were they afraid to speak the truth and they weren’t worried about hurting the other’s feelings.
“You’re sexually frustrated sweetheart and that’s all.” He stood up and walked toward the door, carrying something that looked a lot like her hibachi table top BBQ.
“Take my advice. Come to the bar tonight, where something sexy, and pick up the first stud that twinkles your toes, and then, fuck him…long, good and plenty.” He opened the door; one foot stepped outside, his other hand on the knob to close it before he remembered something else. “Oh yeah, I’m borrowing your hibachi.” He winked at her then closed the door.
That advice, though maybe sounding a bit shallow on the surface sounded like the last resort to someone who was at her wits end. She had tried everything else at this point, thought of every possible cause behind her predicament with the hope that the answer would stop the dreams from coming but nothing had worked. She still had no answers. She was still not getting a restful night of sleep. And she was still as horny as ever.
Maybe Spike was right. Maybe her body was just going into sex withdrawal. She was not the type of person that had casual sex just to have sex but at this point she would try anything.
She stood up and walked upstairs. It was only eight o’clock she’d go to the bar, have a few drinks – yeah right she couldn’t stop drinking these day, gee I wonder why? – and see if there was anyone that ‘twinkled’ her toes.
********
She should have known this was never going to work.
Like Spike’s advice ever did…
She and Willow arrived about two hours ago. It as their local hang out, Faith, Spike, Oz and Devon were band mates for the house band, so they practically lived here.
She sat at the bar, Willow was sitting next to her yapping a mile a minute about something sweet that Oz had done for her, and all Buffy could do was ogle every single piece of meat that walked in, then quickly shoot them down.
Too short…too skinny…odd shaped head…evil looking eyes…small looking package…just plain creepy.
One thing after another she found fault with all of them.
“Buffy, are you listening to me? Are you okay?”
Her eyes snapped away from the tall, gangly looking blonde that just walked in and on to Willow who was looking at her with pity in her eyes.
“God Wills, will you stop looking at me like that.” She said as she grabbed her beer and took a drink.
“I’m worried about you Buffy, we all are. You’re not sleeping, you’re drinking way too much, and you don’t…look good.” Willow tentatively said.
“Thanks for the show of confidence Will.”
Willow sighed. “How did it go with Giles today?”
Buffy snorted with disgust. “I’m through with the dream doc. He thinks I’m nuts and frankly so do I for even seeing him.”
The door opened and two guys walked in, Buffy looked over expectantly, hoping that one of them might be a good drug for the night. When they both laughed like a bunch of crazed jack assess she cringed. Definitely not drug worthy.
“Well what are you going to do? You can’t keep this up Buffy you’re going to crack.”
“Yeah, no shit.”
The door swung open again and when her eyes landed on the two muscular bodies that strolled inside as if they owned the place, the lust that lay low in her body that was always simmering boiled to the surface.
Yeah right, not going there…
She shook her head trying to calm her emotions as they walked by her smiling.
“Hey Buffy.”
Lindsay spoke first; his southern drawl was sexy and low, swoon-worthy really. Lindsay was pretty hot. He was tall, well-built, had dirty blonde hair and amazing blue eyes. But for some reason he made her skin crawl in revulsion. It was only last week that she had that revelation. They had been here hanging out. She’d been drunk, hot and horny, nothing unusual there, and against her better judgment – well she did say she was desperate - flirted with him.
Flirted? Girl, you grabbed him and stuck your tongue down his throat!
Yeah, she had. But it hadn’t felt right which totally boggled her brain. She was horny all the fucking time. Primed and ready to go and he was hot, that hotness had to be attached to a lover that was skillful, right? When their lips met and they wantonly kissed each other she naturally assumed that her already ripe body would explode with lust. But it didn’t. The dark craving for more had not come. The excitement that her body would finally find fulfillment was dulled by the realization that the only thing her body felt at all was a dreary sense that this was not what she was seeking. That she would get no relief from this dirty deed. She had stopped it before it went any further. He’d looked at her with hunger and inquiry, she’d told him she was sorry, that she wasn’t feeling well, and then before he said anything else she quickly left and went home to lick her wounds.
She looked over at him now as he strutted through the bar, smiling and waving at all the women that looked at him – and there were plenty of them – her head tilted, her eyes watched his ass as he walked.
He did have one fine butt. Lindsay was fucking hot! So why didn’t it feel right? What the hell was wrong with me? Was my dream lover ruining me for anyone real? Was I putting too much stock into something that was a fantasy? Maybe I should try him again. Maybe if I kissed him one more time he would stir me…maybe if he just sank inside of me everything would fall into place…maybe…
“Ogling my teammate’s ass again milsean?”
The low deep voice that spoke in her ear was humorous and filled with affection, and her body responded immediately, which made her eyes cross.
Great, just what I needed when I was all strung out for some hot loving, Mr. Sexy Rogue himself...
She hid her irritation and answered him the same way he spoke to her. It was the same routine with him and though she was pent up and annoyed, she easily fell into the quick banter they always parried with each other.
“It’s hard not to when perfection is staring you in the face.” She sweetly said as she looked up at him from underneath her lashes.
Angelus moved closer, his chest rubbed against her arm and she felt the fine hairs come to attention at the sizzling contact.
Too close…
“If you want, I can find out if he’s busy later.” He answered her, his voice teased with mirth yet it didn’t reach his eyes.
Her eyes followed Lindsay as he greeted some buxom blonde with a hardy kiss. She feigningly sighed with disappointment, “damn, just my luck, it seems that he’s already occupied.”
He chuckled then kissed her on the head. “Don’t get too sloshed tonight milsean, you’ve been drinking too much lately.”
“Yes dear.” She mockingly answered him.
“Brat.” He smirked at her as he walked up to Willow.
“Hey Red.” He kissed her on the cheek.
“Hi Angelus.” Willow answered.
He made his way through the crowd that just stepped back and made a wide path for him as he went, like he was Zeus or some freaking Greek God, and she guessed to some people he was.
Angelus McBain was the hot-shot center and the player with the most goals and assists for the Los Angeles Kings hockey team, while she unfortunately was their Publicist. He was the proverbial thorn in her side. Always making her job more difficult than it needed to be. He was the reason she got paid so well. With the constant stream of lovers that went through his house like a revolving door, she had to come up with some stupid shit to get the tabloids off his trail. He was a player. Plain and simple.
She looked on as he met Faith as she made her way over to the bar from the bandstand.
“Hey A.”
“Hey Faithy.” They leaned into each other and kissed on the cheek. Then he continued on his way through the throng of women that awaited him, as Faith continued to walk over to the bar.
Buffy watched the exchange wondering again, why he always greeted the two of them with a kiss on the cheek and all she got was a peck on the head.
Guess, I’m just completely loathsome. God, what the hell am I thinking, I’m better off, I’m in no shape to resist such temptation…
“Jack, let me get a beer?” Faith said as she jumped up on the barstool between Buffy and Willow
Jack the bartender, Buffy’s best friend these days – well at least as long as he kept the drinks flowing – poured Faith a shot then looked her way. “Another Buff?”
Both of her friends turned to look at her sternly, she ignored them. “Yeah, Soco and lime this time Jack.”
He nodded and got to work mixing her shot.
“What? Will you two stop staring at me like that! Gees can’t a girl get drunk and feed her misery in peace?”
They knew better than to say anything back, so they didn’t. Instead they sat there quietly enjoying the music that was now playing over the speakers.
Buffy looked out through the crowd to see Spike, Oz and Devon talking to Angelus and Lindsay. Then her gaze roamed the room looking for any healthy, acceptable male that she could jump.
“Slim pickings tonight B.” Faith said as if reading her mind.
Buffy sighed, she’d had enough of this shit. She slammed down her shot that Jack just put in front of her, then stood up and grabbed her pocketbook. “You said it. Want to head out?”
Willow stood up; she was always the designated driver because she was not a drinker. “Sure. You coming Faith?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty beat plus my throat is starting to hurt. I think I’m coming down with something.”
“Don’t you guys have a tour in San Diego coming up this week?” Buffy asked.
“Yeah that’s why I want to rest it as much as I can.”
Faith stood up on the bench, put her fingers in her mouth and blew a screeching whistle that cut through the music and the voices that filled the bar.
“Good way to rest that throat Faith.” Buffy dryly commented.
The shrill whistle got the desired attention. Spike, Oz, Angelus, Devon, and Lindsay all turned to look at her. Spike threw his hands up in the air in question. Faith pointed to herself, Willow and Buffy then to the door, nodding her head. Spike smiled his understanding, blew her a kiss, and then they all waved goodbye.
********
A few hours later…
“What time is it?” Willow asked as she yawned and stretched.
Buffy looked down at her watch, “two AM.”
“Just about time for Mr. Peterson’s early morning trip to the bathroom.” Faith noted. As if on cue, the right corner of the otherwise dark block lit up, and a light from the second floor of the bright pink corner house turned on, and a shadow moved behind the pink curtains. She smiled, “right on schedule. You gotta love a guy that’s regular.”
“Unless you’re Mrs. Peterson, I don’t think I could live with a man that took that many trips to the bathroom. I wonder if she stocks up on diapers, you know when they take those long RV trips.” Buffy’s reply was followed by Faith’s husky chuckle.
“You know she has the biggest prune garden I have ever seen one person having.” Willow added with a shudder, “I hate prunes.” Both Buffy and Faith nodded their heads in agreement.
This was the girl’s favorite time of day. No matter what happened, no matter what the three of them did during the day or at night and whether they were together or not, they always ended up on Buffy’s porch overseeing the comings and goings of their block, Magnolia Lane.
The other residents of the block affectionately labeled them the ‘Angels’ because they watched over their turf like mothers looking out for their young. If they saw something they didn’t like they went after it together. And if it was something they couldn’t do on their own, then they enlisted the help of the other residents, all of whom where happy to oblige. Everyone loved their street and they all wanted to keep it just the way it was…private and peaceful.
It was an unusual block in the sense that it was somewhat hidden. It was smack dab in the middle of Venice Beach California, an extremely busy area, especially in the summertime when tourists visited and Muscle Beach was packed with all the studs pumping iron and flexing their perfectly sculpted bodies for all the girls that stood by the fence ogling them and giggling like idiots. There were lots of residential homes in the area but what made their street special was that the entrance was just a little street actually it was more like a small alleyway just off the main strip of the beach that turned curvaceously into a cul-de-sac. When you came around that turn all you saw were eight beach houses, four on each side and each one painted a different brilliantly bright color that cozily lined the street. Palm trees that stretched up in the sky lined the block perfectly, and if you took a big whiff all you would smell was the ocean breeze and the smell of magnolias from Mrs. Petersons’ garden. It had an aura that would remind you of the Caribbean as opposed to Southern California, and it was their little homey alcove, their own little island getaway, well minus the island and the getting away part at least. They even had their own private section of the beach, and they used it often, having parties complete with roaring bon fires and playing midnight volleyball games. With the exception of the newest resident on the street, the Squatter as the girls called her - who no one liked except the Petersons - they looked out for each other. The girls loved their block and they took their sentry duty very serious, well with a touch of harmless critiquing of course, after all they were family and that’s what families did.
“I guess the waves are over for the night dudes.” Faith said nodding her head toward the tall lean build of Owen, or rather surfer-dude their pet name for him, as he walked up the block from the beach and toward his house holding his board.
Owen lived next door to the Petersons; it was the electric blue house with the big wrap around patio on the second level. He had a pool in his back yard, which was rather strange considering he was a professional surfer and spent most of his waking time in the ocean. Even still they used the pool quite frequently. In fact it was only last summer that a drunken Owen jumped off that patio and into the pool resulting in him breaking his arm and a trip to the emergency room. It was nothing unusual for Owen. He was your typical California Surfer Dude, the easy going guy with not a care in the world except when the next wave would hit, if there were enough beers in the fridge and enough pot packed in the bong, and when the next party was.
Knowing that the girls sat there every night, Owen looked over, a big smile on his face as he lifted his hand and waved.
“God he’s cute.” Willow commented as she waved back.
Buffy waved, “you won’t get any argument from me, he’s definitely drool-worthy.”
Faith’s eyes traveled down surfer-dude’s lean muscled body then rested on his tight ass that was hidden behind his black wet suit. “Damn straight.” She elbowed Buffy, “why don’t you jump his bones B? He looks capable of relieving some of that stress.”
“Really Buffy, he’s perfect for you.” Willow commented.
Buffy snorted, “First off there is no such thing as a perfect guy – except my mystery dream lover - and secondly he’s like a brother to me. Besides, even if he wasn’t all he thinks about is surfing. It would never work.”
“B, you’re looking to get laid; you’re not looking for another boyfriend.” Faith pointed out.
“Do you think he sleeps with his board?” Willow asked, giggling.
“Well he does keep them in his bedroom, right next to the bed.” Buffy said.
“I’m surprised they don’t have holes in them.” Faith calmly added.
Buffy looked over at her and the second their eyes met they laughed out loud.
Willow looked at them strangely, “I don’t get it?”
They looked over at her serious expression and laughed even harder.
“God Red, you are such an innocent.” Faith said with a touch of fondness in her voice. When Willow just looked back at her still confused, she lifted her hands, made a hole with her thumb and forefinger, and then with her other hand she inserted her forefinger into the hole moving it inside and then out, inside and then out…
Willow blushed and then sucked in her breath, “oh my Goddess, he doesn’t really do that…does he?” she looked at Buffy for an answer.
Buffy petted her on the knee. “Don’t worry Will, Owen might be priority-disabled, but I don’t think he’s into wood.”
There was a screech of rubber on concrete and then the block was illuminated by bright Xenon headlights. They all scowled, knowing exactly who that was and hating those damn bright lights as they lit up the block like a freaking beacon. They turned and watched as the Squatter’s little red Mazda Miada came into view, turned the corner and then made the left into the driveway of the purple house across the street from the Petersons.
“Mm, it’s a little early for the bimbo to be home I guess there weren’t any good takers at the bar tonight.” Faith commented.
“For our standards at least but she’s usually not that picky.” Buffy commented.
“Maybe you should take some lessons from her.” Faith said and Buffy scowled at her. “Don’t get mad at me. You’re the one with the high and mighty ideals that are stopping you from getting laid. There’s nothing wrong with a woman going out and using a man just for sex. Men do it all the time.”
“I don’t know. I agree with Buffy. Sex should mean more that just well, sex. It should be something that is shared between two people that love each other.” Willow said.
Faith snorted, “And that line of thinking is why you’re still a virgin and this one has been having wet dreams for the past six months. You’re both in la-la-land.”
The Miada’s lights turned off, the engine stopped and Harmony stepped out. She spared them only a sneering glance as she looked down the block at them, then she walked up to the door, opened it, shot them one more nasty look, and then stepped inside and slammed it shut.
“God, she is such a bitch. Did you get a load of that outfit she had on tonight? I think one of those big boobs popped out of her sleazy halter top. ” Faith snickered.
“Do you think they’re real?” Buffy asked and Faith shook her head, “No fucking way those things are real. They’re way too perfect.”
“Are you really going to send her flowers?” Willow asked Buffy.
She nodded, “Yup, it’s on my list of things to do tomorrow, well at some point.”
Faith chuckled, “You kill me B.”
Buffy shrugged, “It’s the least I could do. After all she saved me the trouble of breaking up with Riley myself.”
“True and good riddance to that stiff, but I still wish you’d let the guys kick his ass, man I’d loved to have seen that.”
Willow nodded but Buffy just shrugged. “Let’s not talk about him okay. My Riley talking days are way over.”
As they settled back on the swing, it was quiet once more on the block. They sat back enjoying the sounds of the ocean breaking against the sand and the swing creaking as they slowly rocked back and forth.
Fifteen minutes passed before the quiet was interrupted by the hard licks of an electric guitar, hammering drums, and the loud voice of James Hatfield of Metallica singing ‘Enter Sandman’. Then lights appeared and a black van turned the corner and rolled down the block. The music was so loud that they could hear the poor old 1988 Chevy van vibrating. They all smiled.
“Red, when are you going tap into that?” Faith asked as Willow shifted in her seat uncomfortably. “He’s so hot for you.”
“He makes me nervous.” Willow whispered.
“Nervous?” Faith shook her head at her shy neighbor. “I’ll never get you Will. You’re young, you’re hot, and you got one of the nicest guys sniffing at your door and you do nothing.”
Buffy turned to look at Faith, quietly scolding her with her eyes but Faith just shrugged. “Look all I’m saying is that she’s passing up an opportunity of a lifetime. He’d do her right.”
The van pulled up in front of them, the window rolled down and Oz’s black haired head poked out. His eyes first landed on Willow, a smile of tender yearning on his face as his eyes sparkled with happiness. “Hi Willow.”
Willow waved and stuttered back, “H…hi…Oz.”
He lightly shook his head at her quiet response then turned and looked at Buffy and Faith. “Hey Buffy, Faith.”
“What’s up Oz.?” Buffy asked
“Same ole.”
Buffy smiled at his usual monotone answer.
“Spike’s right behind me Faith. He got a flat with the DeSoto.”
“I wish he’d get rid of that piece of shit.” Faith said.
Oz just looked back at her drolly. “What? It’s a classic.”
She snorted, “You know Oz you’ve been hanging out with him way too long.”
He smiled then waved. His eyes looked over and settled once more on Willow. His expression was pensive and his voice was low and full of longing. “Good night Willow.”
“Ni…ght Oz.”
He pulled away and drove to the end of the block and the big green house that sat across the street from Willow’s, turning right he pulled into the driveway. The engine turned off and he got out and walked around to the front of the house. He looked at the nervous red-head, who covertly watched him, a full smile on his face as he waved again then walked up the stairs and inside the house.
“Shit Willow for real, he is so hot for you!” Faith exclaimed as she sat forward in her seat and glared at her friend.
“Leave her alone Faith, she’ll go for it when she’s ready.” Buffy said. She knew Faith meant well but she was pushing Willow too hard and too fast, which in the end would only result in Willow running away. It was the same routine since they’d known each other. Faith was an extrovert and Willow the introvert. Their personalities completely clashed yet they were the best of friends.
Faith sat back shaking her head. She was about to comment once again when another set of lights lit the block, accompanied by the low throaty hum of a perfectly tuned Italian engine.
A big full smile lit Faith’s face as she reached behind her and pulled out a black book that was resting behind the swing. Opening it up, she flipped through it until she got to the last page with writing in it. “Okay ladies, here we go. B, what time is it?”
Buffy looked down at her watch, “a quarter after two.”
“Damn, I lost again. “ Faith said but Willow got all excited. “Oh…I won, I won!”
“He’s early tonight. I guess he hit her hard with the charm,” Buffy sneered and her distaste was not missed by her friends. They didn’t comment on it because it was Buffy’s normal response toward the occupant of 255 Magnolia Lane.
“Don’t get too excited Red.” Faith peered back in the book as the car downshifted and sleekly pulled into the driveway across the street. “Let’s see, Will you had Cordy. I had Darla, and Buffy had…Fred.” She looked at her friend, “I still don’t know why you went with Fred. She wasn’t at the bar tonight. Plus that was one time like two months ago and she seemed too nice. Totally not his style.”
Buffy shook her head, “Trust me, it’s just an act. She is anything but the nice girl on the block.”
The car turned off and the driver’s side door opened, three sets of eyes were on the driver as he got out of the car.
This was what they’d been waiting for. It was their nightly routine, sad but it was what it was. Every night they took bets on what time he came home, what he was wearing, and who he came home with. It was just a little harmless fun that they had, a purely entertaining way to make the night go by. Besides, with a neighbor and friend like him they couldn’t resist.
A shiny black leather boot stepped out which was attached to a tree stump of a leg. Fully emerging from the car he stood up, wearing a black Valentino suit and a deep red silk button down shirt. Faith looked over at Buffy, a frown on her face. “You know for someone that despises what he’s all about; you always seem to get everything right. Why is that exactly?”
Buffy held back the urge to squirm in her seat from the intense gazes her friends were leveling on her. “Because I know him better than you two, that’s why.”
“Oh, he’s walking around.” Willow eagerly said.
Once more all their eyes were peeled on him as he closed the door to the car and walked around the back of it. He stopped in mid stride and looked across the street at them smirking like he knew exactly what they were up too. “Ladies.” He tipped his invisible hat at them, and Faith and Willow waved at him.
His deep voice carried across the street with the cool breeze from the ocean. Faith sighed, Willow shivered, and Buffy just stared back at him crossly.
“God he is sex in the flesh. I look at him and all I want to do is fuck.” Faith said as her eyes stared at his perfect ass as he walked to the passenger side of the car. “He just gets me so hot.”
“He’s like a double edge sword. He’s so sweet and nice, but he scares the hell out of me. “ Willow commented. “He’s so…aggressive.”
“That’s the appeal Red. He’s no push over. I’ll tell you this, if he was the one after you, you’d already be in his bed.”
“He makes me want to puke.” Buffy said as she watched him brashly swagger to the passenger side door.
Faith looked at her like she was nuts. “You can’t deny his salty goodness B.”
“I’m not. He is without a doubt, yummy…”
Her eyes traveled down his broad shoulders, his brawny back, and then down those strong thighs, finally settling on his ass. She looked at that perfect specimen of a heiney for one more second then she looked back up to the flawlessly thick brown hair that covered his perfectly shaped head.
Perfect…perfect…perfect!
She was getting tired of that word but unfortunately it always seemed to pop up where Angelus McBain was concerned. And she grudgingly admitted that it was ‘the’ word that described him. Unfortunately, she’d had the pleasure of seeing just how perfect of a man he was…up close and personal.
She’d never told her friends because she didn’t want to hear the endless questions that she knew would follow. Honestly, it had affected her so badly that she had been disgusted with her reaction and just wanted to forget it. Regrettably, the memory would not disappear, and she remembered it now as clearly as if it happened just the other day and not three years ago.
It had been a complete accident. She walked into the locker room one day after practice to talk to the coach. She was certain that all the players had gone home otherwise she never would have walked in there to begin with. Being the only female in a locker room of naked testosterone packed males was not a predicament she wanted to put herself in. But as she rounded the corner to the office she practically walked right into a very naked and a very wet Angelus who had just come out of the shower.
Faith was right, he was sex incarnate.
He was six foot three, weighed 220 pounds of pure hard muscle, and he had the broadest shoulders she had ever been blessed to see. His pecs were muscled and hard. His thighs like two tree stumps, sturdy and unyielding, built for speed and strength as he chased the puck down the ice and hip-checked anyone that stood in his way. And that chest, good God, it was perfect, smooth and powerful, tan and oh so lickable. She remembered salivating yet at the same time she felt like her mouth was as arid as the Sahara Desert. He had been wearing nothing but a small towel wrapped around his trim waist, sitting low and revealing the fine hairs that started at his belly button then grew darker as they went lower to what she was sure had to be the most supreme male appendage the world had ever known.
Yes, Angelus McBain, her neighbor and one of her closest friends, was the whole kit and caboodle, the entire package. He had it all, and unfortunately, he knew it.
After what felt like a lifetime of ogling him, she finally caught herself and snapped out of her stupor. Her eyes darkened. Not with lust, though that was exactly what she had felt inside, but rather with disgust at herself for even looking to begin with.
He had that sexy make you want to lick his feet smirk on his face, and his eyes stared back at her hotly when he murmured, “See something you like?” She knew her face turned red with anger then and she stomped right up to him, grabbed his towel, ripped it off and took a long hard look.
Of course, she meant to scare the crap out of him and put him in his place, instead all she succeeded in doing was turning her lust up to oh about…the exploding point. She had been right, what lay underneath that towel was something that no mortal man should be blessed to have. It was obscenely flawless and ridiculously superb; it was something she wanted to ride all night long. Miraculously, she held back her lust and caught herself before she really made an ass out of herself and did something stupid like drop to her knees and gobble him up. Instead she coyly looked back up at him and blankly said, ‘Not really.”
What a liar she was.
The memory heated her and she cleared her throat before she finished her sentence. “…in all the right places. But he’s arrogant, self-absorbed, conceited, and he’s a womanizer that has absolutely no respect for women.”
“So in other words, you’d rather be his friend than get fucked?” Faith said with a smile on her face.
“Yes. I’m not adding myself to that long list of girls he’s had. I have more respect for myself than that.”
She said it with strength and pride in her voice, but inside as the always there lust pooled in her belly she started to question her own standards.
The truth was that Angelus McBain made her body burn. His deep low voice did titillating things to her senses that she had never experienced before. When he touched her, which he did way too often, the simmering lust quickly turned to a boiling degree. He was more man than any man she had ever known and she wanted him, very, very, much wanted him. There was no doubt that he would be an exceptional lover, and that sleeping with him would most likely quench her never-ending thirst for relief but she would never give into it.
Although she wanted nothing more than to know how it would feel to have him inside of her, she was not going to be one of those pining girls that were always hanging around him like groupies, hoping to be the next girl he took to his bed. She refused to put herself up on that awe-struck-I’m-easy butcher block. She had more pride than that. Probably too much, because sometimes she felt like she was choking on it.
As he reached the passenger side door they held their breath as he opened it. Shapely slim legs in white pumps came out and when he took her hand and helped her out all the way, the straight brown hair of Fred swayed in the breeze.
“Shit!”
“Oh man!”
Buffy smiled, “I told you. I know him.”
“Man, I thought for sure it would be Darla! She hasn’t been over in what three weeks?” Faith asked.
“Four” Willow added.
“I told you guys, she got too clingy. He doesn’t do clingy.”
Which was true. Like all Casanova’s, Angelus McBain went after anything with a skirt, as long as they weren’t virgins and had no designs on anything long lasting. He was all about the sex and that was it.
There was a loud rumble as a car turned the corner, Faith and Willow turned toward it but Buffy’s eyes remained on Angelus as he climbed the stairs to his front door. His hand was on the small of Fred’s back and he pulled her in close to his side. He leaned in and said something to her as he opened the door. She softly laughed then disappeared inside the terra cotta colored house.
Before following her inside the house he turned around. His deep chocolate gaze looked directly at her. He graced her with that killer smirk, he inclined his head at her, and she…stuck her tongue out at him. Well she wasn’t always the mature person she claimed to be. She didn’t know why he brought out the bratty side of her but he did.
Arrogant son of a bitch.
She saw his shoulders shake in merriment. He was amused by her and as usual it angered her. She defiantly stared back, her eyes hard. He shrugged and she knew exactly what he was thinking, ‘your loss’, then he turned, went inside and closed the door.
BANG…POPP…BANG
Thoughts of her antagonist disappeared under the deafening clamor of the car that drove down the block and she winced, “God is he ever going to get that thing fixed?”
Faith shook her head as Spike pulled into the driveway next door. “He likes it; he says its music to his ears.”
“Yeah will it’s a little too loud for my taste.” Willow said as she stood up. “Well that’s it for me.”
Faith stood up just as Spike got out of the car. He looked across the street, saw the black car in the driveway then turned back to the girls. “Just get home?”
Faith walked down the stairs and headed toward him. “Yeah, but he’s not alone.”
Spike grinned, “Is he ever? Bloody hell that poof’s my idol. Well I guess it’ll have to wait.”
He slammed the door shut and grabbed Faith just as she jumped up in to his arms. They’re lips met and sealed together, kissing each other as if they hadn’t just seen each other at the bar hours ago.
“Night guys, see you tomorrow.” Willow said as she walked down the steps and made a left toward her house.
“Night Wills.” Buffy said just as Spike and Faith stopped kissing.
“Later Will” “Night Red.” Faith and Spike said as they headed inside their house.
“Talk to you tomorrow B.”
“Night Faith.”
Spike smacked Faith’s ass as she walked inside, then he stepped back and looked at Buffy. “So?”
She looked at him blankly, then sighed and shook her head, “Nothing that interesting tonight.” She quietly said.
He smiled, “Well there’s always tomorrow luv.” He winked at her and then walked inside and closed the door.
She sat there for a moment by herself pondering her street, thoughts of Giles and the dream voided out by the comfort just sitting there gave her. It was the serenity she needed, the tranquil setting to settle her otherwise stressed out body and thoughts. This street and the people that inhabited it were her reprieve from the otherwise daunting questions that constantly assailed her. She loved it here and had from the first moment she stepped on the block.
She settled back in her seat and took a deep breath of the ocean air that just breezed in from the beach. She took one more look at the houses that lined her street.
The Peterson’s house was dark once more.
Harmony’s house was also dark.
Owen had the single light in his bedroom on and she could just make out a shadow of a figure on his board cruising the waves.
She looked to the left, Oz had his living room light on and she could see him sitting on the couch, head phones on strumming his guitar. She smiled; he really was an honest to God decent guy. She was going to have to talk to Willow about him. Faith was right, she was letting her fear get in the way of something that would be really great for her.
Looking straight ahead her smile disappeared as she watched the soft candle light flicker in the upstairs bedroom of Angelus’ house. Sex came so easily to him and he took advantage of that, used it frivolously like it meant nothing. She hated that callous attitude of his and he knew it. It was one of their most frequent arguments, well that and the size of his ego.
We have the oddest relationship.
Odd actually was an understatement. Like everyone on the block they had a very close relationship and she really enjoyed his company. He was an extremely intelligent man, which was an idiosyncrasy for a Hockey player. He had a brilliant, witty, dry sense of humor that made her laugh so hard sometimes that she’d get cramps in her side. When it was just them hanging out with the rest of their friends and he wasn’t in the spotlight of being the greatest hockey player in the game, he was relaxed, deeply attentive, and, like Willow said, sweet and nice. He looked out for them like he was their big brother. If you had a problem you could go to him and he would listen and look at you like he was really looking at you…deeply, as if it was only you and he in the world.
They were really wonderful qualities for a man to have and she could easily see why women chased after him. All of that topped off with that incredible sexual magnetism could be overpowering. But for Buffy they were completely overshadowed by his flaws which was being an egotistical philanderer, or Faith’s fond term which was…man-whore.
One female after another spent the night in Angelus’ arms. She was certain they all left the next morning sexually content and numb. They had to; he was too sublime not to be an extraordinary lover.
What she couldn’t understand was why any respectable woman would give into his rakish charm. Couldn’t they see beyond that facade of pure male eroticism to realize that he had absolutely no respect for women? To Angelus, women were to be used as instruments of pleasure and nothing else. The less of a brain they had in their heads the better for him. It made her sick.
She stood up and took one last look at the window across the street then walked inside.
Tonight had been a complete bomb and once more she was home, alone, her body strung out and tight with the lack of sexual release and dreading the long night ahead.
She was tired and longed for a deep restful sleep but she knew that would not come. Instead sleep would only come as the undercurrent of the tormenting dreams and she was not looking forward to another round of that.
She stripped naked and climbed under the sheets, saying a silent prayer that she would be gifted with a peaceful dreamless night.
********
Five hours later…
His eyes opened and he sat up on the edge of the bed scowling at the clock. It was seven o’clock in the morning and just like every day his body automatically woke up whether he wanted it to or not. After years of the same shit he was used to it but it still didn’t make him a happy camper. After a night of drinking, followed by a rowdy tussle in bed with the shockingly kinky Fred, he was tired. But he was up now, and once he was up…he was up.
He stood up to his full height and stretched his aching body. He was getting old for this nightly carousing shit. It might not hit him so hard if his body wasn’t already beaten and bruised from getting whacked by his fellow teammates in practice, not to mention the players from the opposing teams that hated his guts and always made a point of singling him out during games.
Yeah, he complained but only to himself. He was exactly where he always wanted to be. His dreams to be the best had come true and he be damned if he gave it up for anything, especially his slowly aging body. He was only thirty-three and he was in the best shape of his life but in the world of professional hockey he was getting old.
He turned and walked over to the window. Looking to the left he gazed out toward the water it was a bit murky since the sun was not out yet but to him it was still beautiful and peaceful. Two things that drew him to buy this house to begin with, that and the fact that it was private and hidden from the hustle and bustle of the outside world that thrived around it.
He remembered when he first saw a picture of the house and the idyllic block that it sat on. He had wanted it right away; there was just something about it that drew him toward it. He didn’t know what it was but it seemed to call out to him with one simple word of possession…mine.
The realtor had been on edge, almost like she wasn’t sure if she should even show it to him. But as he was with everything he wanted, he was persistent and he was devious. He used the palpable lust the realtor had for him to his advantage. After cajoling her, filling her head with the things she wanted to hear, then fucking her brains outs, she showed him the house. When he asked why she was so reluctant to sell it to him, she told him that the property was owned – along with the entire block and beach front – by an elderly couple that lived on the block. They were extremely picky about who moved in on ‘their’ street and basically had the final say as to whether or not they did. He had found that to be highly ostentatious and he was ready to rip those old goats a new asshole. But when the realtor introduced him to the Peterson’s he had instantly liked them and they him. He bought the house that day.
That was three years ago and he had never regretted it. He couldn’t believe it had been three years already, well actually it was more like he could not remember living anywhere else before here.
Before he came here he was in New York playing with the Rangers, and had been since he was eighteen and fresh out of high school. Oh he was offered a full scholarship to Harvard but he declined it. It wasn’t that he couldn’t handle the high standards of the school’s curriculum; he had graduated from high school at the top of his class. He was just not interested in becoming a member of the upper crust elite. Those people were not his people. They were snotty arrogant assholes that thought their parent’s money bought them anything they wanted. And they had the nasty habit of looking down their aristocratic noses at his piss poor Queens Irish background. He hated that, hated people that were like that. They took everything that their well-bred births had given them for granted and did nothing with it. Most of them walked out of there with less of an education then when they walked in. Fucking airheads.
Going to Harvard or any other school for that matter did not appeal to him. There was only one thing that he wanted and that was to play hockey. Nothing else mattered. He wanted to play and he wanted to be the best. It was all he could think of, day in and day out…he had hockey on the brain.
Well that and the ladies of course.
When the Rangers sent him their offer to join the team after high school, he took it. It had been a fantastic ride while it lasted, but like all things in his life, he became bored. He loved New York but he felt like he was missing out on something, though he could never pin point what that was. He chalked it up to just being tired of the cold New York winter weather and the hustle and bustle of the city. He just needed a change of scenery. So when his contract expired and the LA Kings made an offer, he jumped on it. Three years later, here he was.
His eyes scanned up and down the block; though the sun was rising the block was still overshadowed. Smog. California was funny that way. Every morning the sun was hidden behind the smog, and then as if on a timer, at noon the sun came out full force and shone. He actually kind of liked it like that. He was not a morning person to begin with so the drab morning weather suited his moods.
He looked at the houses on the street, they were all dark, the inhabitants sleeping peacefully and he was once more struck by the calming feelings this block restored in him. That and how much at home he felt here. With the exception of Harmony, he liked and got along with everyone on the block. Which was a rarity for him. Usually he didn’t get along with anyone. But these people who were all so different seemed to fit right into his life like the pieces of a puzzle that he had been missing.
Spike, Oz, Owen and he had instantly bonded like brothers the moment they met. It had shocked the hell out of him but he went with it, easily rolling with the flow and into that comfort zone that was sometimes so hard to feel with other people. That place where you can throw nasty barbs at each other and just laugh it off like a bunch of monkeys. It was something he’d never had before, not even with his five brothers and sisters. Something that he never thought he’d get that day he drove down Magnolia Lane for the first time.
Finding this little slice of heaven had been a gift from God because he needed the solace that this street gave him. It was a quiet retreat from all the bullshit that came along with being who he was. The cameras, the fans, those damn annoying hockey groupies, that were always following him around, chasing after him, just waiting for him to do something gossip worthy. He smirked, well he couldn’t help that. He was a man with a big appetite, one that came out and showed its voracity any time it wanted to. If someone witnessed it that wasn’t supposed to, well that wasn’t his problem. Nope, that problem belonged to someone else.
His gaze slid across the street and he looked at the red bungalow style house that sat so pristinely on the street. There were flowers of every color on the property, clinging vines of yellow, white, and red roses that grew up the side of the house. It was actually a very nice house, well if you liked that sort of thing at least. It was the only house on the block that was seventy five percent in its original state. The second floor had been dormered but it was just one big open room, with floor to ceiling glass panes. All the others, including his, had been built up and out, to include second and third floors. But not that house. Not that perfect little house with its perfect little owner.
His hand reached down and adjusted his suddenly twitching cock. God, she was perfect. And that God damn perfection always made his balls swell. But he had known from the first day that Buffy Summers was a delicacy he could not allow himself to have.
A gift from God or a cruel form of torture? He snorted torture…definitely torture.
He stared at the second floor window, the window to her bedroom, scowling darkly as he did. He hated that he wanted something so bad but denied himself the pleasure of tasting it. It went completely against his nature and put him in the foulest of moods. Why did he torment himself? Because all that sensuous erotic beauty was just a decoy for what lie underneath…neediness, and he knew it from the first time he looked at her face.
He could read women like a book. He knew by just a mere glimpse of their faces what they wanted. And one look into those green eyes told him all he needed to know - she was hunting for a mate - she wanted it all; love, faithfulness, devotedness…marriage.
His body shivered with repulsion at just the thought of that bullshit full of lies word. Marriage was for suckers, for weak minded men that only thought with their dicks when it came to women. Not him. He would never be one of those fools. He didn’t let his dick control his actions; he was the master of his body and his future. And while he may be tempted to take a woman to his bed, if she fell into any of his no-touch categories then he walked away and never looked back.
How the hell could any man be happy with one woman for the rest of their lives any way?
That was the bullshit lie that was marriage. Men were sexually driven – he knew he was – they needed variety – he knew he did, there was no way one woman could ever satisfy his hungers. He craved something new every night. He loved the different tastes of each woman he fucked. He loved the diverse sounds that came out of their mouths as he pleasured them. There was just something carnally addictive to the dissimilar feelings that each woman he took to his bed brought with her.
After living through the sham of a marriage his parents had, he had at an early age been determined not to get trapped into marriage, so he quickly set up some ground rules when it came to women, very strict guidelines that he lived by.
The first one was no virgins. That was the biggest no-no. Virgins were always looking for something more, something he was not capable of giving nor wanted to give. Virgins were also too innocent. Their purity was a sickening smell that surrounded them. They had these outlandish, flat out stupid ideas that sex was something that should be slow and gentle. That it was the seed to grow deeper emotions. That it should be with someone you loved and who loved you back. But they were wrong, that was all bullshit. Sex was not any of those things. Sex was hot, passionate, dangerous…definitely not soft and tender, at least not his idea of sex. There was not one virgin on the face of this planet that would be able to handle his voracious sexual appetite.
Secondly, he did not shit where he ate. Period. He stayed away from any woman that he worked with or lived near, that caused too many problems when things went sour, or rather when he got bored and wanted to move on to someone else.
Regrettably for him, Buffy Summers fell into both of those categories, mostly. He knew she was not a virgin, she’d been dating that asshole Finn for two and half years, but he placed her in that category because he knew her and he knew that she was a good girl. She had those same ideals that a virgin did. For her, sex was not sex at all but rather, making love.
Is that bile rising in my throat?
It was unfathomable to him how anyone could describe an act that was based on pure sexual attraction and the body’s natural needs, as making love. Was everyone blind? Or were they just molded to what society wanted them to believe?
He believed the latter.
Everyone could have that deep dark drive inside of them whether or not they let it out and explored it was a different story. Buffy Summers was one of those people he was positive. She was too fucking perfect to be anything else.
Perfect, fuck…I hate that fucking word!
Though she had a body made for fucking, there was no way that golden ethereal beauty knew what to do with it. There was no possible way in hell she was a kinky sadistic bastard like he was. And then if that wasn’t enough of a cold shower thought to his always hungry manhood, then there was the obvious. Not only did she live across the street from him but they worked together as well. That put her firmly in category number two.
Fuck! He was frustrated with the whole damn thing.
God, you must really hate me to dangle that sweet morsel of candy right in my face that I can never touch
His scowled darkened, every fucking day he had to see what he couldn’t have, smell what he could never taste. Constantly denied! Yet he wouldn’t want it any other way.
He couldn’t turn a cold shoulder to her because he liked her and he liked being around her. She was smart, funny as all hell, and regardless of their opposite thoughts on sex and love – which he found extremely amusing to argue about with her, she was just so hot when she was rankled – she was a loyal friend. That alone was reason enough to stay away from the sensual temptation that was Buffy. He valued her friendship too much to lose it because he let his passions get the better of him only to throw her away like he did with all his lovers when he got tired of them.
What bothered him the most and really pissed him off was that he never had a problem with abiding by his rules before her. There were plenty of women that he rejected because of the no-no factors. He’d feel a sense of disappointment but it would quickly pass the moment something else caught his eye, someone he allowed himself to have. But for some fucking reason this one female turned everything around. She was the apple in his Garden of Eden that he just could not resist. And denying himself the one carnal pleasure that made his body weep for release was a constant battle he fought.
The only thing that made it a bit easier to deal with was that she wanted nothing to do with him in that way either. He knew that the first time they meet.
The first time their hands had touched it was like an electric shock coursing through his body and he knew she felt it too because her eyes had widened and her body shivered slightly. Clear as bell indications to a seasoned sex addict like him that she was feeling him…hard, heavy and hot. But then those intoxicating green orbs looked deep into his own, speedily reading him and concluding exactly what and who he was. She had immediately slammed the wall down then, stomping down whatever passion she had felt for him, recoiling from the cold emotionless soul that she sensed rested inside of him.
Thank God for small favors
His starvation had become tolerable then but at the same time it had grown into something that bordered on violence. She was made for sex, erotic luscious marathon sex, and there was nothing he wanted more then to show her exactly how to use that body, and fuck her over and over again. Just thinking about it made his Johnson so damn hard it was painful, and he did – think about her…all the fucking time. She was always on his dick-radar, and it pissed him off.
Shit, I’m a fucking pansy, standing here like a fucking peeping Tom, hoping for a glimpse into that darkened window…fucking pathetic!
There was a rustle of satin sheets and he peered over his shoulder to see Fred roll over on her stomach. The sheet slid down her naked back as she moved, then rested on the bump of her ass. He continued to stare at her naked lushness, letting his member swell with blood.
Now this he could have.
Fred was his favorite kind of fuck, the engaged kind. There was no chance of them wanting more because to them, he was just a fling before they got married and sealed their fate to one of those weak minded males, which worked beautifully for him. There was also the most appealing fact that Fred was a kinky bitch, and as far as he was concerned, the kinkier - the better.
Darla had been his most enjoyable lover when it came to twisted sex. But she crossed the line when she started to badger him about his other lovers. Her whining nagging voice had been shrill as she bitched that he wasn’t spending enough time with her. She even had the balls to listen to his cell phone messages. That ended that, very quickly. There was nothing he hated more then a whining belligerent woman.
A moan filled his ears along with another rustle of satin bringing him back to the present. Fred’s hand stretched out to the empty space on the bed where he had been. Her head lifted and she turned toward the window as if she knew that was where he would be.
“Angelus, come back to bed.” Her voice was low and scratchy, sexy, the sound stimulating his senses. He stroked his cock as he stared at her, her eyes darkened and she licked her lips.
He walked over to her, watching her watch him, she was about to roll over, but he pushed her down keeping her on her stomach. He didn’t want to look at her face. He didn’t want to see the color of her hair. For some sadistic reason he wanted to torture himself this morning.
With his hand on her back, he leaned over and took a love glove out of the drawer by the bed. He had done this so many times before he could do it with his eyes closed and with one hand. Putting the plastic wrap in his mouth, he ripped it open then spit the plastic top on the floor; he pulled out the glove then easily rolled it on to his thick hard length. He leaned over Fred, took hold of his sheathed member and slid inside of her, in one shot. His eyes closed and as he felt her inner walls close around him, soaking him with her wet heat, one word echoed in his head…
Perfect…
********
Angel came down from heaven yesterday
The nine a.m. wake up call roused him from the light sleep that he had been in, that and the sound of Fred’s angry words as she hurriedly dressed.
“Shit I’m late. God, does he play that horrible song every damn morning?”
Horrible song? Obviously Fred had no idea what good music was. Ah, what the hell did I care, I’m not fucking her for her music preferences.
His eyes remained shut as he relaxed into the melodic haunting notes of the guitar god as they soared through him and all around him.
God I love this block…
Every morning this was what he woke up to. Hell, this was what the whole block woke up too. Oz had his speakers permanently placed in his front windows and when he woke up he just flicked the switch and they played this song…loudly. As far as he was concerned, Oz couldn’t have picked a better song to start the day with even though the reason why disgusted him.
His brother next door had it bad for their red-haired neighbor that lived across the street. Everyone knew it including the object of Oz’s desire. She was just so…innocent, shudder, that she was afraid to do anything about it.
Definitely a virgin that one…
He heard Fred moving around; cursing as she almost lost her footing putting on her shoe. Then he heard the obnoxious sound of a horn beeping outside. The taxi cab.
“That’s me, thanks for…everything. I hope we can do it again sometime.”
He opened his eyes and looked back at her. He had no problem with that. Once she was married, she was even a better fuck than when she was just engaged. Still, that didn’t mean he was going to be easy about it.
He shrugged nonchalantly, “We’ll see.”
Her smile was unsure and fleeting like she was going to say something else, and he prayed to God that she wouldn’t. He knew what she was thinking, she was wondering if she had satisfied him, if she was good in bed. Well, he felt no need to reassure her, if she had no self confidence that wasn’t his problem. As she stared back into his detached emotionless face, she seemed to know that she wouldn’t get any kind of assurances out of him.
“Yeah, great. I’ll ah, see ya around then.”
She walked out of the bedroom and down the hall; her heels clicking piercingly against the hardwood floors as she walked. He listened as the sound got further away as she walked down the stairs then continued through to the foyer, the sound becoming sharper as she crossed the black marble tiles. He scowled, that irksome sound was the reason his one-time beautiful hard wood stairs, floors, and marble tile now looked like shit. It was from the scratched up worn out path that lead from the front door, up the stairs, and to his bedroom.
New rule, no more high heels in my house…
The front door opened then shut.
The second she left the house he stood up and stretched. He looked over at the clock then headed toward the bathroom. He had about one hour to shower, get his coffee, and then settle down for some breakfast.
********
Meanwhile, across the street…
The first one moved through me like molasses - thick, sweet and vexingly slowly - from the first tingle that started at my toes, it succulently stirred every nerve in my body as it rolled all the way through, finally reaching the top of my head, and then exploding into a thousand brilliant lights, numbing my mind for one brief second. The numbness was immaterial because it did not lessen the violent shaking those feelings generated. The way I shuddered uncontrollably against his hard sweaty body that seemed to pump endless pleasure inside of mine.
He kept working my frazzled nerves, still pumping with long hard strokes, and the second one that came didn’t start like the first - they never did, they just kept coming at me harder, faster, with more force. It slammed into me, my body lurched off the mattress from its rich intensity and I cried out as a sharp stab pierced my insides only to be soothed by the hot kiss of bliss as the orgasm coursed through me.
His hand fisted in my hair and he yanked my head back with a violence that scared me. I didn’t shy away from it, I liked the fear that rolled through me, tickling the peaks of my pleasure, making me feel so thoroughly possessed. I craved it. I craved him. I craved every decadent thing that he did to my body.
I moaned in pure unrepressed rapture as he pulled out, teasing me with just the smooth mushroom tip – sliding back and forth over my velvety folds, then plunging back inside. I felt his damp hard chest press against my back, heard his ragged grunts in my ear, as he did it again and again, divinely impaling me with his opulence.
I was out of my mind with need and just when I thought I couldn’t take anymore, he seemed to sense it, and he stopped his teasing. His hands gripped my waist as he held me in place for his brutal taking. Slamming inside of me at an incredible pace - not stopping, never stopping - until all that was left was the air leaving my lungs on a guttural scream of release.
She sprang up, her hands gripped the wet sheets, her eyes were wide as she looked frantically around the room. There was no one here; she was alone, sitting in a pool of her own sweat…again.
She flopped back down on the bed trying to catch her breath and restore her body back to its normal running speed but as usual the dreams didn’t let her go that easily. They held on to her with a vengeance, tormenting her with what she didn’t have.
Tears sprang to her eyes. How much more of this could she take? How many more nights of desperate cravings and never-ending aches could she endure?
The beautiful notes that played through the windows punctured her weary and wreaked mind, it was the escape she needed from her thoughts. The song soothed her senses, calmed her body, made her feel like she was floating on a cloud.
Thank you Oz
She just soaked it all in and when the last note played she exhaled with it, once more in control of her body’s responses. She got out of bed then, because she knew that she had to. She was tired, and the odds that she would fall back to sleep were too high. And if that happened she knew what would come next.
She pulled on a pair shorts and a tank top, then walked downstairs and poured a cup of coffee.
Thank you Mr. Coffee for your brilliant idea of putting a timer on the damn thing
Not having to wait for her morning shot of caffeine was good…definitely good. She quickly gobbled it down then went back upstairs to her room. She opened the curtains and looked outside, another smoggy California morning; she smiled, not for long.
In no time at all the aromatic coffee beans did their work and she felt rejuvenated. She grabbed her yoga matt, threw it on the floor then walked over to the CD player and pressed play.
She smiled as the first note struck, followed by the husky timbered voice of Alicia Keys. This was her routine. This was what kept her sane, well partially sane at least. This was her time to collect her thoughts and try to get a grip on her curse that came in the form of erotic dreams.
She had specifically selected these smooth R&B songs because while they soothed her they also stimulated her. Not that she needed any more stimulation – God knew she was already on overdrive, ready to burn up and burn out - but no matter how hard she tried, she could never get her dream lover out of her mind. So in an attempt to get some sort of handle on things, she used her morning yoga exercises as a thinking platform.
Yesterdays go-nowhere meeting with Giles told her one thing; searching for the ‘why’ of the dream was pointless. It was the ‘who’ of the dream that mattered. She started to think that if she discovered who he was then maybe that would explain the ‘why’. It made sense to her after all he was the important part of the dream anyway. She believed in her heart that she must have met him at some point in her life, because the connection she felt to him was too strong for him to be a complete stranger.
Charismatic, intriguing, inexplicable, all described him to a tee.
He had many layers and she wanted to peal each one back with slow purposeful precision, in her hunt for the truth of just who he was and what made him tick. Besides the feelings that he created inside of her and what his body felt like, she knew nothing about him. Well, he was definitely a complex man that much she knew, and she also had the feeling that the deeper she went the more complex he would become. It was a little scary to her, the need to delve so deeply into someone else’s psychosis, but there wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do to get inside of him.
The man in her dreams was her absolute darkest, deepest fantasy, the reason why she would not just accept casual sex with anyone. With him always in her mind, and the pleasure that she received at his hands in the dream, she was always measuring him against any prospective lovers.
She knew, of course that it wasn’t a realistic thing to do and probably a little deranged and twisted. She had no idea who he was, didn’t even know what he looked like, or if he even existed. Yet it didn’t matter. She wanted him so badly, wanted what she instinctively knew only he could give her, that she couldn’t help it. In her eyes he was the perfect man and sex with him – even though it was dream sex - was the most transcending sex she’d ever had.
It was no wonder she struck out every night at the bar. How could she accept anything less?
How do you know that’s what you’d get? You keep letting your principles get in the way of finding out! God I am pathetic, obsessing and wanting a man that I met only in my dreams!
She guessed that was the downfall of a having a romantic soul and believing in soul mates. She was always searching to find that one person in the world that you know is your soul mate. Someone who with the slightest touch can make your body sing, someone that instinctively knows what you want and how you want it, without you ever having to tell them. Someone you share a connection of mind, body, and soul with, that’s what she’d been searching for. Needless to say she hadn’t found one person that came close to her perceived ideas, they have all been lacking in one way or another.
He wouldn’t be lacking in any way…
Of course she thought of Angelus when she thought of perceived ideas, and when she did that she felt like she was walking a tight rope.
On one side was the temptation to jump his bones and take what he so often threw in her face, desire…passion, with no strings attached.
On the other side were her – prudish, that’s what Angelus called them – ethics that she should not get sexually involved with someone who changed lovers as often as he changed his underwear.
There she stood, balancing on that very thin and wobbly wire, her arms outstretched desperately trying to hold on and not fall on the wrong side. But which was the wrong side?
Was Angelus right? Was I a prude?
Sighing, she turned up the volume then sat down on the mat. Maybe she should rethink this stupid need she had to stick to some set of pathetic ideology that was stopping her from getting rid of these dreams.
Really girl, stop fucking yourself and fuck him!
She shook her head, she really had to stop thinking like that or she was going to find herself in a situation that she wasn’t quite sure she wanted to be in…yet.
She took deep breaths to settle her thoughts and she let the music fill her, letting it drown out everything but the voice that sang over the speakers.
Crossing her legs, she lifted her arms and began.
********
He turned the page to the Sports Section and began to read the latest article that glorified his road to becoming one of the best hockey players in the league. He usually loved reading them they were great for his ego but lately they’d been getting stale and boring. He turned to the next page when the first sultry note played out of the little house across the street.
Ah, breakfast is served…
Anticipation licked under his skin making it itch and he turned his body just slightly in his chair where he sat on the deck off of his bedroom. As he’d done a thousand times before, he casually shook the paper out. The slight movement made the top left hand corner of the page fall into itself, giving him a clear unobstructed view of the bedroom across the street.
His keen eyes were riveted on the petite form that sat crossed leg on the floor. Her delicate arms stretched up, her finger tips touching each other as her hands met in the middle. His eyes grazed down those lean arms, down the taut expanse of her torso to the rounded curve of her thighs and butt that sat on the mat.
Mmm…hot pink this morning, very nice…though I prefer the red…
She leaned back, absurdly arching her back like a stalk billowing in the wind, her chest pushed up and out, those perfectly sized breasts straining against the tank top.
Ah, my second favorite position…fuck she’s so damn flexible…
She held that position for a few more minutes then slowly sat back up. Moving in tune with the sexy sultry voice that played she stretched her legs out, bringing them together in front of her, she leaned down and grabbed her toes, her head touching her knees.
A few minutes later she straightened, then with agonizing slowness she spread her legs…wide, her hands once more reaching up as she stretched her torso.
His eyes darkened with hungry eagerness as she closed in on his favorite part of her morning exercise.
Holding her hands up, she bent to the left, and grabbed her foot staying there for a few minutes, then slowly rising then bending to the right, once more grabbing her foot. A few minutes later she straightened again.
His cock twitched, his skin now starting to burn. He greedily watched as she brought her legs together, bended her knees, and then moved forward, placing her hands on the mat.
His favorite position.
She was on her hands and knees. She leaned her head back at the same time as she lifted her left leg up. Balancing on her right knee and her palms, she bent her leg backwards until her foot touched the back of her head.
His eyes became heavy, the salvia in his mouth dried up, his breath became ragged as he soaked in every inch of the exquisite display of pure wanton looseness she represented.
God, to have her in that position before me, her ass nestled so perfectly up against me…so open…so ready to take me inside…
His throat rumbled with excitement and it was on the last note of a low needy growl that Spike walked in.
“Morning poof.”
Fuck!
He hid his agitation at being interrupted from his morning peeping, by quickly looking back at his paper and not at his friend. Still, he could not hide the gruffness in his voice when he spoke, nor the need to shift in his seat.
“Hey.”
Spike smirked at him then sat down in the chair opposite him. He took the liberty of pouring himself a cup of coffee, then he grabbed the comics out of the newspaper, sat back and stretched his legs out.
“Regale me.”
“With what?”
“You’re indecent and completely immoral evening with Fred.”
He looked at him then, one dark eyebrow raised in question. “How do you always know who was here?”
Spike smiled, “The Angels.”
Angelus scowled, his sharp eyes quickly scanning the three houses across the street. Faith suddenly walked out of hers and Spike’s, slamming the door shut, she crossed the lawn toward Buffy’s.
A shrill cat-calling whistle came out from the love struck idiot that sat across from him and Angelus flinched from the raw sound.
“Swing it baby!” Spike called out over the banister.
Faith smiled as she looked over at them, then she gave him the finger.
“Not now pet, can’t you see I’m talking to my mate!” He called out and Angelus chuckled along with Faith.
“Morning A!” She called out waving. He waved back just as she opened the door and walked inside of Buffy’s house.
He snuck a peak back at the bedroom window, Buffy was just standing, her head turned toward the stairs most likely responding to Faith’s entrance.
Another door opened then closed, and they both turned to see Willow walking out of her house, and like Faith did, up to Buffy’s.
“Hi guys!” She yelled out, enthusiastically waving as she did.
They both smiled, how could they not? She was too sweet.
“Morning Red!” Angelus called out.
“Looking good!” Spike said.
They both chuckled as they saw the tell tale sign of a pale blush reddening her cheeks. Her feet moved faster as she quickly disappeared inside the house. A few seconds later she joined Buffy and Faith upstairs. They all sat on Buffy’s bed Indian style; their heads leaning into each other. They were obviously talking about something important.
Seeing the three of them together reminded Angelus what he and Spike had been talking about.
“What do you mean, they told you?” He asked looking back at Spike who was already engrossed in a Garfield comic strip, chuckling and shaking his head.
“C’mon mate, you know those three, they know every bloody thing that goes on around here. Even made a few bucks on it.”
“What?”
“They bet.”
“They bet on what?”
“You.”
“Me?” Angelus’ eyes darkened dangerously, “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You know, what you’re wearing, what time you come home, who you’re with, shit like that.”
As Spike went back to his comic, Angelus sat there surprised. They bet on his sex life? He didn’t know if he should be pissed off or flattered. Well, it explained why they were always watching him when he came home at night. And it probably explained Buffy’s brattiness last night.
She must have lost, he smirked.
“Who won last night?”
“Buffy, two for two.”
Guess not…
There was a rumble of an engine being started and then Oz pulled out of his driveway, stopping in front of Angelus’ house, he called out to them, “Boys!”
“Yo man, where you headed?” Spike asked.
“Getting Owen then picking up the night’s festivities.” Oz replied with a smile on his face. After Spike responded with a wave and a nod, Oz addressed Angelus.
“You making it back for the game tonight man or what?”
Angelus grinned it was the last Saturday of the month which meant that it was midnight volley ball night. The Kings were playing the Boston Bruins tonight but there was no way in hell he’d miss the volley ball game.
“Hell yeah! Who’s on the menu?”
Oz grinned back, “Doyle and the boys. See ya later man!”
He waved as he continued down the block. They watched as he stopped in front of Owen’s house. He honked the horn and the front door opened. Owen bounded out. He looked down the block, a smile on his face and the peace sign up in the air. “Dudes!” He ran around the van, jumped in and they drove away with Owen’s head out of the window bellowing…”Morning Mrs. P!”. There was no one outside of the Petersons but it didn’t matter, it was what Owen did every morning.
Angelus went back to read his paper when he caught a glimpse of the girls in Buffy’s bedroom. He squinted trying to get a better look.
Buffy was on the bed, she had her head in her hands and it looked like her shoulders were shaking. Faith and Willow sat next to her on each side, rubbing her back and leaning their heads against hers…comforting?
Was she crying?
He looked over at Spike to see him transfixed on the Angels. Instead of looking stumped like Angelus was sure he did, Spike looked upset and…determined.
What the hell was going on?
He looked back at his paper before Spike caught him staring.
“I need a favor mate.” Spike softly said.
“You know I got you covered.” Angelus quickly responded.
There was a second of anxious silence before Spike spoke, and in that second Angelus tensed.
I’m going to regret those words…
“I want you to sleep with Buffy.”
Yup, big time regretting…
His heart stopped, his eyes slowly rose to the blue ones that stared intently back at him. Spike’s face was straight and serious. But he couldn’t be, could he?
Angelus’ entire body felt like he was strung out on a rack being pulled in four different directions. He grinned; masking his discomfort, then shook his paper once more and looked back at the article he had been pretending to read.
“Remind me to tell Owen to kick back on your bong hits.”
When there was no cocky come back he looked back at Spike. Still serious and still straight.
The rollers of the rack moved, the chains tightened, stretching him taut. He felt his whole body stiffen with lust, hope, and anguish.
“You’re serious?”
Spike nodded and Angelus did the only thing he could do, without pulling his dick out and stroking it to calm down, he laughed.
“Have you lost your fucking mind?”
“I’m serious.”
Slowly anger crept in. Why? He had just been handed a golden ticket, he should be jumping for joy but for some reason the request totally disturbed him.
Because it’s not her asking, it’s her best friend…
“Why?”
“Because I’m worried about her, she’s been seriously stressed out lately. Haven’t you noticed? Haven’t you seen how much she’s been drinking? You peep inside her bloody bedroom for fucks sake; don’t you see that she doesn’t sleep?”
Angelus’ scowl darkened, he had noticed that. At home, at work, or just hanging out she always seemed to be strung tight, like she was about to snap. It was only in the morning when she did her Yoga that her body seemed to relax. The drinking, he’d noticed that too and hadn’t liked it. Every night she was up at the bar, getting shit faced, flirting with anyone that paid attention to her. And a lot of people paid attention to her. Shit, she’d even flirted with his teammate Lindsay. For reasons he wasn’t willing to look at, it annoyed him to watch her in action, but she never left with any of them and she always went home alone. He just never really thought that anything was wrong with her…after all, she was little Miss. Perfect.
“And you think sex with me will relief her of that?” He asked incredibly.
Stupid question, of course it would, I’m the master of stress reduction…
“Yeah, she needs…an outlet.”
“Does she know you’re doing this?” He suspiciously asked as he looked at Spike. Not like he really needed to ask because he already knew what the answer was going to be. Still, his body remained taut, eagerly waiting to hear what he wanted to hear – the green light to go.
“No. And I don’t want her to know.”
And that wasn’t it.
He threw the paper down, the chair legs angrily scrapped against the patio as he suddenly stood up. He pierced Spike with a hard glare and his voice was flat and unyielding when he gave his answer. “No.”
He walked inside and heard Spike get up and follow him.
“Why not? Come on mate!”
“Why not? Jesus Christ Spike I can’t even believe you’re asking me this!”
“Well I am. So why not?”
Spike watched as Angelus started pacing. His big body was tight and rigid, and his strides were angry and sharp. “What’s the problem? You’re a bleeding Casanova, the skilled seducer of anything wearing a skirt, plus I know you want her.”
“You don’t know shit!” Angelus spat out.
“Oh really, you think I don’t know what you do up here every morning while you’re…reading, your newspaper! Reading! Please mate, I’ve got eyes in my head.”
Angelus scowled at him. “Well if you did then you could clearly see that she doesn’t want anything to do with me…in that way. We’re friends and that’s all.”
Spike snorted, “Bullshit, she’s hot for you too she just doesn’t like your...style.”
Now it was Angelus turn to snort, “Style…that’s a delicate way of putting it. Look Spike, I don’t know why you’re asking me this, but I really wish that you wouldn’t. Okay?”
And he really felt that. In fact, if he could he would hit the rewind button, run downstairs and lock his door so Spike couldn’t get in. He couldn’t even believe he was having this conversation. It was absurd, it was obscene, it was his most fevered obsession being thrown at his feet for the taking, yet…he didn’t want it, at least not like this. Even if it was her asking, he would still refuse.
Why? Because underneath his dark and twisted sexual obsession for her was the affection he had for her as a friend, and the good and decent person that she was. She didn’t deserve to be treated the way he treated women. She wanted that whole package crap, and though he didn’t necessarily believe in that himself, he wanted her to have it.
Now Spike stood before him this morning as a charade, he wasn’t his friend, he was the devil throwing him the apple, trying to seduce him to commit sin, and he refused to catch it. But the devil was determined to draw him in, and he would not relent.
“No it’s not okay. Our friend is in trouble, she’s losing it, and she needs help. The kind of help only you can give her.”
“Me? I’m not a fucking Angel Spike, you know that. I seriously doubt that my sadistic idea of sex is going to fix whatever’s wrong with her. Look this whole fucking conversation is irrelevant because even if I said yes it wouldn’t matter, she would never go for it.”
“Trust me mate, it’ll be a lot easier then you think she’s that wound up. Tonight at the game after she’s had a few beers, she’ll be more than willing. I’m telling you. If you come on to her with all that seduction crap that always gets you laid, she won’t be able to say no.”
Angelus fixed him with a cold stare. “I don’t coerce women into sleeping with me Spike, especially my friends. Women sleep with me because they want to and Buffy she doesn’t want to. So I’m telling you now for the last fucking time…NO!”
He walked away and into the bathroom, slamming the door shut.
Spike kicked the carpet in defeat, “shit.” He thought for sure he’d be able to get Angelus to do it. It wasn’t like it was a hardship, for God’s sake. Buffy was hot, Angelus was hot…they were hot for each other, so what was his bleeding problem?
Well he couldn’t do anything about it now. Angelus was a stubborn son of a bitch and once he said no he meant it.
He felt a stab of guilt for even asking him. And he sort of knew he would say no but he had to try. Spike just didn’t get it. Angelus and Buffy had the weirdest relationship he had ever seen two people have. They were friends, close friends actually – just like everyone on the block. They were also completely hot for each other, yet they never pursued it. God only knows why, when those two were together you could practically smell the lust in the air. They were content to just hang out with each other and banter sexual insinuations back and forth.
Bloody hell, what did he do now? He wanted to help Buffy, he couldn’t take seeing her this way and it was evident that she wasn’t just going to go and pick up some stranger in a bar and bang him, she just wasn’t like that. So what was a best friend to do?
I’ll have to think of someone else that’s all…
After a few seconds Spike heard the shower running. He walked up to the door. “Forget I asked. We’ll still see you tonight for the game right?”
He heard the muffled yes under the sound of the running water. “Alright mate, I’ll see you later, good luck tonight.”
********
An hour later, Angelus was still on edge as he made his way across the street and to Buffy’s. He spent the last hour taking the coldest freaking shower he had ever taken. It was the only way to sooth the voracious hunger that had completely taken control of him after Spike’s visit.
When his body finally started to chill out and relax, concern for his friend seeped in. What the hell was she so stressed out about that had Spike worried enough to ask him, a degenerate egotistical ass – as Buffy called him so many times in the past – to sleep with her?
That was the question that was driving him now, the need to know what was wrong.
Why was she crying?
Why was she drinking so much?
Just what the hell was going on with her?
Reaching the door, he threw it open and stepped inside the living room. Oz sat on the couch. He was leaning over the coffee table, where he had completely dismantled Buffy’s stereo system. He didn’t look up as he greeted him.
“Hey man.”
“Hey.” Angelus made a beeline for the kitchen and the fridge, completely at home in the small house. Everyone was. This small house, the smallest one on the block, somehow ended up being home-base.
Opening up the fridge, he leaned down and grabbed a beer. He closed the door then jumped up on the counter, cracked open the beer and took a long hard swig. “Ah, breakfast of champions.”
He sighed contently. Positioning the bottle cap between his thumb and second finger, he flicked it toward the living room waste basket, which Oz was holding up. It went in like Flynn.
“He shoots, he scores!” Oz hollered as he placed the basket back on the floor. “So you pumped?”
Angelus smirked, “Aren’t I always.”
Pumped up, pumped out, and ready to kill
Oz stoically looked back at him, noting the evil smirk, the broad shoulders that just seemed a little bit bigger this morning, and the way his hands gripped the beer in anticipation or agitation Oz couldn’t tell. The signs were all there, it was going to be one bloody game tonight.
“For some reason I feel bad for the other team.” Oz commented as he looked back down at the two wires he was holding. Concentrating, he carefully melded them together with the soldering iron he held in the other hand.
Angelus’ smirk grew even more evil, if that was possible, as he pulled a cup out of the cabinet and filled it with the freshly brewed coffee that sat on the countertop. He was strung tight and ready to pounce on anything. Thank God he did have a game tonight he needed some kind of outlet after that shit Spike laid at his feet.
He heard the sound of soft bare feet walking down the steps, and then Buffy appeared wearing a purple robe that came down just above her knees, and she had wet hair. There was no sign of shock on her face at seeing them in her house, or seeing her stereo system in pieces on her living room table, she just came down and walked into the kitchen.
She was buck naked under that robe…
Angelus’ mouth went dry and he took a swig of his beer.
“Hey guys.”
“Morning Buff.” Oz answered, and Angelus just grunted. It was all he could do because he was too busy breathing in Buffy’s clean freshly showered scent.
She walked by Angelus and took the filled coffee cup he held out for her as she grabbed the beer he was about to drink.
“You’ve got a game tonight.” She put it down on the counter then leaned against the granite countertop and took a drink of her coffee.
He scowled then grabbed it back. “This is my breakfast.”
He went to take a drink, but she grabbed it again. “This is not breakfast.”
“It is if you’re Irish.” He smartly answered and Oz nodded his agreement.
Buffy leaned forward and placed the beer on the center island and then grabbed a banana out of the fruit bowl. Turning around she pushed it into his chest. “This is breakfast.”
He just shrugged and started to unpeel the banana, unfazed by her highhandedness. It was the usual routine the morning before a game.
She looked over at Oz, one perfectly sculpted eyebrow perked up. “Something wrong with my stereo?”
“The speakers are shot.”
“They are? They sounded alright to me.”
She looked at Angelus who shrugged, “Don’t look at me, he’s the electronic whiz.” He said, taking a mouthful of his banana.
Buffy shrugged too, looking back at Oz as he sat hunched over her dismantled stereo. He was the resident genius and he took it upon himself to install the best stereo systems in everyone’s houses. He said it if he was going to hear them blasting their stereos than it better sound good. He put so much high tech shit in each of their houses that none of them knew what any of it was for they only knew what buttons to press to make it work. It didn’t matter though, it wasn’t like they’d have to fix anything because once Oz heard something he didn’t like, he fixed it and fast.
Buffy drank her coffee and then put it on the counter. Then she walked around the kitchen pulling out pans and utensils, making her way to the fridge she took out enough eggs and bacon to feed an army.
Angelus watched her closely, she was like a zombie, her movements were sluggish and not as graceful as she usually was. She had dark circles under her eyes. Even her voice sounded off like, she was totally spent.
“What’s wrong, milsean?” He softly asked her as she passed him on her way to the bread box.
He saw her shoulders tense from his question, but when she spoke her voice was quiet and relaxed. “What? Nothing’s wrong.”
His eyes were slits as he continued to study her stiff movements, and he asked her again, this time a little sternly. “What’s wrong?”
She sighed and rolled her eyes, “Nothing is wrong.”
“You know he won’t stop till you answer him.” Oz stated as a matter of fact.
She scowled Oz was right. Angelus was obstinate and he was persistent as all hell. If he wanted something he wouldn’t stop until he got it. She hated that but she admired it too. It was what made him such a great hockey player. Still she wasn’t about to answer him. No freaking way. So she just continued to go about her business while she urgently tried to come up with a suitable answer besides, ‘oh nothing I’m just having wet dreams that have me coiled so tight that I’d even put my principles aside and jump your bones.’
She walked by Angelus again and this time, he grabbed her arm and pulled her in between his legs.
She held back the groan of need that threatened to spill from her lips from the quick contact of his hot hands on her skin. It caught her off guard and she gripped his strong thighs to keep from falling backwards.
That was a mistake.
The second she touched him, she felt herself start to burn. His body was throwing off waves of heat, the thigh under her hand was hard like steel and the well-toned muscle flexed as her fingertips pressed into them.
God he was too close…too close…
In her weary state he was too much man to be standing this close to and she tried to step back, needing the space, needing to breath. But he held her arms in his hands that were like bands of steel. His brown eyes bored into hers, seeking, no…demanding an answer as he asked again, his voice harder, his words clipped and precise.
“What is wrong?”
She stared into eyes that were unflinching and knew that her time for quick thinking was up. To bad she hadn’t thought of a damn thing to say.
“Nothing, I’m just tired.” She shrugged out of his hold and backed away from him. On a thankful sigh of relief, air entered her lungs once more.
Yeah, that lame answer would throw the dog off her trail…
“Why?”
It was the answer she was expecting to hear, and she actually had an honest to God truthful answer for it.
“I’m not sleeping well, that’s all.” She shrugged a delicate – yet stiff – shoulder, which he detected.
“Why?”
His doggedness started to get on her nerves, and she spun around and lashed out at him. “What is this, twenty questions?”
Angelus took her anger in stride, he was expecting it - Buffy Summers did not give in easily - and he answered her with a question of his own. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”
“You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?” She yelled at him.
“That’s why you love me.” He said, smirking at her.
You’re not getting out of this one…
She finally gave in and answered him, sort of. “I don’t know why, okay. I’m just not sleeping well and that’s all.”
His eyebrow quirked up, clearly showing he was not satisfied with her answer. “Joyce and Dawn okay?”
God, he was fucking persistent. “Yes.”
Thankfully, she was saved from any more bullying because Owen came walking in. She turned away from him, pulled out the bread and started to put some slices in the toaster.
Angelus dropped his questions because he knew he wasn’t going to get anything else out of her. But he gave her a look that clearly said they were not done with this conversation.
“Yo peeps. Breakfast ready, cause I’m starving man!” He walked over and high-fived Angelus as he pulled a beer out of the fridge. “What’s up my hockey master man? You ready to kick some ass tonight?”
Angelus hopped off the counter. They faced each other, posed like two muscle men, then roared at each other, “YEAH BABY!” they ended it with a hard chest slam that had to hurt.
Buffy shook her head at the testosterone display as she got to work cracking eggs into a bowl.
Angelus grabbed Owen’s beer and went to slug it down, but was stopped once more by Buffy as she quickly took it away and handed it back to Owen.
“No beer. Eat another banana.”
She threw him another one which he deftly caught. “Now get out of my kitchen, it’s too small for you two muscle heads.”
“No beer! Bite your tongue woman” Owen said mockingly and Angelus laughed, “She’s worse than your coach isn’t she?”
Chuckling they did as she asked and walked out of the kitchen and plopped down on the sofa. They both kicked their feet up on the table at the same time causing it to shake.
Oz grabbed the ends of the table, steadying it, giving them both dirty looks. “Watch it man. I’m busy here.”
As the boys talked loudly, laughing raucously with each other and continuing to bother Oz, Buffy cooked breakfast wondering again for the hundredth time how she ended up with this chore. She actually didn’t mind it so much. She liked to cook plus it kept her mind off of everything else that consumed her thoughts these days – no sex, no sleep – no sex, no sleep. The best part was that she didn’t have to do the dishes, Willow did them.
What I got, I got to give it put it in you…
The Pepper’s song echoed throughout the house, it was Owen’s cell phone, and as he shuffled to retrieve it out of his shorts, the sex riddled lyrics played over again drawing Angelus’ eyes to Buffy’s ass.
“Talk to me. Yo Doyle…Dude we are so going to kick your ass tonight…what?...yeah sure hold on…” He got up and headed to the door. “I’ll be right back. Save me some food you fucking monster.” He said to Angelus as he walked out.
He didn’t hear him he was too busy, watching Buffy cook the bacon, or rather watching her ass move as she shifted on her feet.
“Where’s everyone else?” He asked, his eyes following her around the kitchen as she got to work on cooking the eggs and he got to work on his second banana.
“Spike had to drop his guitar off to get re-strung, he broke’em last night. Faith and Willow went with him.” Oz answered softly.
The toaster suddenly beeped and eight slices of bread popped up, all brown and toasty. Buffy pulled them out carefully then dropped them on a plate blowing on the tips of her fingers as she did. Turning she placed the plate on the island.
Angelus turned and looked at Oz hearing the longing in his voice when he spoke the last name. “Speaking of Red, when are you going to stop fucking around and make your move? You’re killing me.”
Oz just shrugged, he was use to Angelus brusque questions about his non-romantic relationship with Willow. He just never answered him. There was no point. Angelus’ view on love and romance was tainted as black as the shirt that Oz was wearing.
“Stop badgering him Angelus.” Buffy answered as she took the bacon out of the pan and slid it into a bowl.
“I’m not badgering him. I’m just giving him the push he obviously needs.”
“Why because he hasn’t thrown her over his shoulder and taken her back to his cave yet? Unlike you, Oz is a gentleman.” She pointedly said and he laughed.
“Now see that is just improper English. Gentle and man should never be thrown together like that, it’s a travesty.”
“No, what’s a travesty is your callous attitude toward love, sex, and women.” She snapped back.
Angelus smiled and settled back into the couch, he loved this argument – which they had, all the time. “Oh milsean, how many times do I have to tell you? Love has nothing to do with sex.”
Her eyes closed and she took a deep calming breath. She was so not in the mood for this same ole squabble. Opening her eyes, she scooped the eggs out of the pan and put them in a big bowl. She then placed both bowls on the island and wiped her hands on the towel. Throwing the towel on the counter, she poured another cup of coffee and then headed toward the stairs. “Whatever. Food’s ready. I have to get dressed.”
Angelus sat up clearly disappointed that she was ending their game. “Oh come on…no smart ass remark? No chauvinistic asshole remarks?”
“I’m not in the mood to be beat up by you.” She answered as she climbed the stairs, dismissing him.
“Damn.” He huffed as he leaned back against the couch clearly annoyed and a little bit shocked.
That’s a first…Buffy walking away from an argument…
Oz’s head finally looked up to see Buffy’s feet as she climbed the last step then disappeared up stairs. “Something’s definitely up with her. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her walk away from that disagreement before.” He stood up and headed toward the kitchen. “Food?”
“Yeah.”
Angelus absentmindedly answered, his thoughts were on the petite blonde. She was aloof, distant, tired, worn out, her body was constantly tense and rigid, and his concern for her grew. He didn’t like seeing her this way. She was normally a very easy going fun person, but like Spike had said, she wasn’t now. Now she was completely and totally stressed out.
He was determined to get some answers and find out why she was so stressed. Surely it was something that could be handled without sex as the medication.
Please…please, let that be true…
He was good at solving problems; he just needed to know what the problem was.
And tonight he would find out.
She had five minutes before the third quarter started and Buffy raced down the underground hall in the LA Forum to get back to the booth before the game started again. She was so tired she felt like she was going to just drop. Another night of wicked dreams and lost sleep. Another morning of wretchedness made even more special by the breakdown she’d had in front of Faith and Willow, and then the twenty questions from Angelus was the cherry on top of her misery. She knew that conversation would continue because he was a pain in her ass.
She felt like shit, she knew she looked like shit, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.
Yeah…life was good…
Running down the corridor she cursed the coach for keeping her waiting. She had to talk to him about the interviews for the post game wrap up show before the last period started, and as usual he made her wait.
Another arrogant egotistical jerk...
She dealt with men like him on a daily basis. After three years you’d think she’d have gotten used to it and she had to a small degree. Actually she’d just come to terms with the fact that she, a woman in a man’s world of professional hockey – who was good at her job - threatened them. Men were such babies that way. But she didn’t care what they said or how they ogled her, or even the occasional patronizing tap on the butt – which, come to think of it hadn’t happened in a while - as she passed them. She loved her job and she loved hockey. Besides she could hold her own. She wasn’t afraid of them and she wasn’t shy about speaking her mind.
The faster she walked the more she wished that she hadn’t worn her four inch heels. Her feet were starting to hurt and there was a small ache beginning in her lower back.
Note to self: no sleep – heels bad…
Looking down at the folder she had in her hands she wasn’t watching where she was going. She’d run down this hall so many times before that she didn’t need to see it to get to where she needed to go, unless there was an unexpected wall of hard muscle standing in her way.
Gloves hit the concrete floor, as a pair of strong hands gripped her arms, steadying her. “Do I need to buy you a bumper guard milsean?”
The low deep voice and the beautiful haunting Gaelic that it spoke sent a shiver down her spine just as it always did. As usual, she tried to stifle it but that was getting so much harder to do these days.
She looked up, expecting to see sarcastic brown eyes staring back at her. Instead they were flirtatious.
Oh God, please not now…
“Ha, ha, very funny.” Then, remembering what time it was and where they were she scolded him. “What are you doing down here? The game starts in five minutes. Shit, I’m not going to be up late writing another explanation as to why there was a female fan in the locker room between periods, am I? Because you know I’m running out of excuses.”
Angelus warmly chuckled at her while his fingers slowly started to stroke her arms. She had the softest skin, so inviting to touch. For one second he wondered what it would feel like to have her naked flesh against his naked flesh, soft against hard, sliding against each other so perfectly, so enticingly. Ardor seeped inside of him and superseded his otherwise guarded responses from his wicked thoughts of Buffy Summers. His eyes turned deep and dark with passion as he looked back at her. His intense gaze expressed to her openly and honestly of his thoughts and his every emotion more then his mouth ever could.
And she read it all.
She stood there stone still. The light almost lazy touch of his fingers brushing her skin was hypnotic and in his eyes was a fervor that rivaled her own. She felt flushed from his lingering hot gaze. She held back the yearning moan of need that so wanted to reveal itself in the form of pure wanton begging, because that would be bad…very, very bad. Instead, she swallowed down the lump of lust in her throat.
Get a grip Buffy…he’s just playing you, like he always does…
There was a spark of something in his eyes she wasn’t sure what it was, recognition or conceit. Since she couldn’t decipher it she just assumed it was conceit.
He knows exactly what he’s doing to me…
She scowled, he just continued to stroke her skin with that full of carnal delights smile plastered on his face.
“No Buff, don’t worry. You’re the only female down here.” He leaned down until their noses were practically touching. “Just the way you like it.”
She watched his mouth move as he spoke, hovering just above hers, like a piece of ripe fruit dangling in front of her dripping mouth-watering juices that screamed to be licked up. She bit down on her tongue to keep it from coming out and betraying her. But it wasn’t her tongue she had to fear it was her eyes that disclosed her truth. Her thoughts ran amok; she imagined what it would be like to kiss that beautiful mouth, and her traitorous eyes darkened, growing heavy with the deep languid heat that swirled throughout her.
Rigidity took hold of Angelus’ body. It was all there to see in her stunning face. Her eyes spoke volumes and he suddenly wondered, if he made a move would she stop him?
After a few tense moments of sultry silence and deep gazing he seemed to come to a decision.
He straightened to his full height and walked slightly forward and to the right. Imposing his body and will, he bumped her shoulder, smiling when he got the desired result. She shifted and turned toward him, her back was now to the wall. He smirked.
“Besides I wouldn’t do that to you, you have to play tonight.”
If he wasn’t already excited then just thinking about tonight would have done it. He loved midnight volley ball, not because it was a fun game to play and not because they played at midnight on the beach. It wasn’t because of the free flowing booze and food, and it was certainly not because they beat everyone they played. The only reason he loved to play was because it offered him the opportunity to watch Buffy’s backside.
When they played the girls were in the front and the guys were in the back. Lucky for him Buffy stood right in front of him, innocently teasing him with those short-shorts that rode up her ass as she lithely moved around the court. And on those nights when he was really lucky and it was really warm out she wore her bikini, which was just as stimulating to watch. Ah, who was he kidding, it was the best fucking view in the world.
She eyeballed him and he chuckled at the suspicious gaze.
She could read me like a book…
“Good, that’s ah…good.” Flustered, she stammered then took a step back as he took a step forward, entering her personal space.
As if in slow motion she watched his hand come up and touch her arm again, although this time his palm lay flat and he moved it up and then down her arm. The confident stroke of her skin scorched her, surely leaving burn marks wherever he touched her. She couldn’t control the heady need that slammed inside of her. Her response was growing to an almost unbearable ache to have more and it frightened her. She was so frustrated and she wanted him so badly that she didn’t trust herself.
She took a step back.
“Don’t you think you should be getting upstairs?” She snapped at him a little more aggressively then she intended too but she couldn’t help it. She had to keep him out of her personal space. He was too close…too close.
He didn’t seem to mind her tone because the grin, now one of predatory persistence, stayed on his face. He nodded at her, taking another step closer, closing in around her…suffocating her with his manliness.
Every nerve ending in her body rampantly ignited, sending tiny little shockwaves to every inch of her skin. She tingled with anticipation and fear, and she took another step back trying to put more space between her and temptation. But she didn’t get very far. Her back hit the concrete wall and her eyes bulged slightly with the knowledge that she was trapped in a web of sweet seduction that took another step closer, just as she breathed in.
Her eyes closed, her tongue came out and licked her lips as her fingers dug into her palms.
Good God! How can a man that just played two periods of hockey and sweating like a pig smell so damn good?
Seeing her reaction, feeling it in his body as if a wave of heat blasted him in the chest, watching her pink tongue come out and lick her lips were the purest forms of an aphrodisiac he had ever seen or felt. It rendered him completely incapable of any logical thoughts and instead left him powerless to succumb to his needs
Taste her…
She heard the soft slap of palms against concrete, felt the slight breeze of air next to her head as they landed.
Trapped…
She was afraid to open her eyes, she didn’t want to see what she knew was coming, didn’t want to reveal her own inner desires.
He leaned forward and she felt his damp hair touch her forehead. She felt the heat of his face so close to her own, and knew she only need to reach out with her tongue and she would taste salty skin and full lips.
Don’t…please…
But her body betrayed her once more.
He almost groaned out loud when her tongue came out and sensually slid across her bottom lip once more. His mouth parted, his eyes were hard and determined. He was going to taste her and to hell with the consequences.
Taut with need and expectation Buffy stood perfectly still against the wall. Her fingers dug painfully into her palms, her core cruelly throbbed with an intensity that shortened her breath and increased her pulse, as she waited…waited for the inevitable.
He was so close. His eyes hungrily watched her tense face, her lips that were slightly parted, her breath that shakily exhaled. His head tilted as he took the last motion forward, and then…
“MCBAIN? WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?”
The angry shout from around the corner burst through the seductive shadow that weaved and pulsed around them like a cloak of heat.
His body stiffened.
Her eyes flashed open with awareness.
He cursed and she swore.
What the hell am I doing?
Oh my God was I really just going to let that happen?
They stared into each other’s eyes knowing the danger they had almost allowed themselves to step into. Though foolishness now filled his veins instead of single-minded determination he could not resist one more touch, one more intimate moment of covetousness.
Leaning forward he slightly rubbed his cheek against hers, his senses sparking once more at the soft delicate touch. He exhaled, his own breath trembling as he whispered in her ear. “I’ll see you later milsean.”
He backed up, leaned down, picked up his gloves and then walked away.
She heard the rap, tap, rap of his covered blades hitting the concrete floor as he left. When he was gone, the tension in her body spilled out and over. She had no strength in her legs to stand and she slid down the wall. Closing her eyes she took deep, deep breaths in an attempt to stop her blood from boiling over.
She could not believe she almost let that happen, almost opened herself up to the urgent demands of her body, demands that he had so easily and so expertly drew out of her. God, why did he always do that to her? Why did he always stoke the fire? And how could she let him?
No, how could she not? That was the real question.
She knew she was too vulnerable, too susceptible to his charm and magnetism. She had to stay away from him. She could not afford such close proximity anymore. It was too dangerous. Too tempting.
She was ready to crack, and if she did, she would fall straight through and into the arms of a carnal pleasure she could not allow herself to taste.
********
The late warm summer breeze blew across the beach as the waves hypnotically lapped against the sand. Buffy stood in front of the water watching the waves roll in. She loved the feeling of the sand being pulled under her feet and through her toes as the water receded. She could stand there all night and feel that. It was way better then feeling her body ache for something that she wasn’t getting, or even thinking about it for that matter. The problem was she could think of nothing else.
She felt the telltale sign of her eyes watering as her vision slightly blurred. She angrily wiped away the offending emotion. Weakness. She was full of weakness and tonight had proven that.
She was angry with herself for letting Angelus get so close. She was angry with her almost uncontrollable responses to him. And she was fucking pissed off that her hang ups about having casual sex interfered with her getting some sort of sexual release.
Not that she would seek it from him, no…that would not work at all. No matter how horny she was and no matter how much she wanted him, she refused to give in and become just another notch on his bedpost.
But the weakness inside of her was growing and her committed resolve to resist the pull was slowly dissipating under the unquenchable desire to take what she wanted.
She took a long slow drink of the Soco and Lime that she held onto for dear life. She’d lost count of how many she’d had. All she knew was that she hadn’t stopped drinking since she got home from the Forum. The booze eased her to some extent, relaxed her. There was also the hope that she would black out cold, so blitzed that nothing, no person and certainly no fucking dreams, would be able to rouse her.
The next wave came and it startled her as she swayed on her feet, giggling softly.
Yup…drunk as a skunk…
Once more her thoughts drifted back to the evening’s events, or rather the aftereffects of those events. It had taken some time to collect her emotions, to silence them to a more manageable degree – like getting her legs to actually move and getting her core down to a low hum instead of a pulsating beat – when she did, she made her way back to the booth to watch the rest of the game.
While she sat there, her eyes kept straying to Angelus. She didn’t want to but she couldn’t help herself and she thought, what was the harm in just looking? She wasn’t anywhere near him. He wasn’t breathing down her neck? He wasn’t searing her with his hungry eyes. Besides it was her job to watch the game.
Justify it all you want, but you know the real reason you watch…
She snorted, reluctantly acknowledging the validity of her thoughts. She loved to watch him play - it was as simple as that. It always fascinated her because he was so big, so much brawn, yet when he skated it was like he was floating across the ice…smooth and polished…refined. The way his hands handled his stick was pure magnificence to watch. It was an extension of his arm, always where it was supposed to be, hitting the puck with precision and expertise. It was really something to watch, and Buffy who had watched many hockey games in her twenty-seven years of life, could never get enough of it.
Of course, as she admired his skills as a hockey player she couldn’t stop her sex-craved mind from associating those smooth movements and quick hands on the ice to what his skills would be like in the bedroom. Which was a big mistake because then she watched him with hot hungry eyes, with her heart practically in her throat, and her seat - which had suddenly become extremely uncomfortable to sit in - she squirmed restlessly. It was the longest game in her life complete with tension and discomfort. She couldn’t wait to escape the hot air of the forum and her sizzling unwanted thoughts just so she could stand here right in this spot and be cooled and calmed by the ocean.
A breeze blew across her face and she welcomed it. She was so hot.
The ocean looked so inviting and she took a step in. A wave rolled in and lapped at her ankles. Her breath sucked in from the shock of the cold water against her heated flesh but it was refreshing, just what she needed. She leaned down, letting the cool water run through her fingers. Then she cupped her hands together, capturing some of the cool respite, and then brought it up to her chest. Opening her hands she let the water run down her body, smiling with satisfaction as it trickled down through the crevice of her breasts.
God, that felt so good, cooling, soothing yet it made her think of scorching tantalizing lips and a wet tongue lapping at the trickles as they rolled down her naked flesh. She turned her head just slightly to the right, her gaze easily finding the dark hulking figure as he sat on an Adirondack chair by the fire next to Spike. She licked her lips; her eyes freely caressing the broad smooth expanse of naked chest. He had a few black and blue bruises on his abdomen but it didn’t matter, they only turned her on more. They were badges of honor, results of the hearty game he’d played tonight, and she had the strongest desire to kiss every inch of them. Her gaze traveled down to his huge thighs, remembering how they had felt this morning when she balanced herself on them. Deliciously hard and powerfully built, they were made to hold a woman up as he slammed inside of her over and over again.
Her tongue did another sweep against her bottom lip.
Down girl…bad, bad thoughts…
She had to stop this...this, perverted ogling. It was only making things worse.
“Hey Buffy!”
Hearing Cassie’s call of greeting, she shook her head to clear her unbounded affliction, and then she turned toward her friend with an innocent smile of greeting on her face.
“Hey Cassie.”
Spike and Angelus sat around the fire quietly watching the night time activities on the beach, and resting from the brutal volley ball game they had just won.
Angelus stared through the brightly glowing amber flames, contemplating the blonde who was talking to Cassie just beyond it, his thoughts full of self disgust and loathing. He had almost lost it tonight, had almost broken every freaking rule of engagement he solidly laid out, and he had no idea what brought it on.
He hadn’t been thinking about her. He had been taking a leak before the game started again thinking about face offs and slap shots, getting the puck, and hip checking that asshole that tried to trip him up last period. It was only when he walked out of the locker room and right into her that everything he’d been thinking about slid out of his brain like a puck sliding down the ice.
It was her perfume…deep, dark and sensually heady; it had filled his nostrils and shot right to his groin. It made him want to encase his body in that scent until he reeked of it. It sent him into a dangerously fevered state where he had only one single-minded thought…seduce.
In a matter of one second – a flip of a fucking coin - she had become the goal he wanted to score.
Christ, I am fucking pathetic!
He learned two things tonight and neither one of those things was the taste of her lips – which was the discovery he longed to learn – no, tonight’s lessons were annoyingly clear. Lesson number one, she was too much of a temptation. Actually that really wasn’t anything new to him, he’d always known that. Shit, he couldn’t even think straight! One lesson, one blaringly horrific and full of self reproach lesson, he was too weak to resist her.
The full force of that truth was like a bomb exploding in his head. What the fuck was he going to do now? He couldn’t stay away from her; he knew that for a fact. He may feel forced to deny his need for her body but he would not deny himself the pleasure of her company.
He blamed Spike. It was his fault why the last day had been so hard. So tempting. Spike got the wheels spinning, the suggestion that just maybe that door he slammed shut three years ago would open to a world of decadent delight. And then the worst part was that he had seen it in her eyes tonight too, she was hungry, very much so. He also saw the fear in her eyes the moment the idea of letting him in took root. Panic and alarm that she was going to let herself go and give in to what she wanted…what he so badly wanted.
It would have been fucking amazing.
It would have been the most stimulating encounter he had ever known…just to taste her lips.
It would have been…a mistake.
Thank God the coach called him when he did, snapping him out of his lechery, because he would have taken her lips, and so much more.
His face tightened and a scowl appeared, as he watched Doyle walk over and hand her another Soco and Lime.
Number three…
As soon as they’d gotten back from the Forum, she’d started knocking back those Samuel Adams Summer Ales, she loved so much. He’d counted five before the volleyball game started. Two during. Then right after the game ended, she’d moved on to the hard liquor. He knew Buffy could handle her booze, she could put an Irishman to shame, but still…he could see by the slight sway of her body as she moved closer to say something to Cassie, that she was bombed. Drinking away her stress, dulling whatever it was that was bothering her, which reminded him…he still had no idea what that was.
“Without getting that black temper of yours in an uproar, will you just tell me why you won’t do it? I know you care about her.” Spike’s softly spoken question told Angelus that he was watching her too, and still thinking off their conversation from the morning.
“Are you going to tell me why?” Angelus asked as he turned and looked at him.
“I can’t mate. It’s…personal.” Spike softly answered.
Taking a swig of his beer, Angelus turned back to watch Buffy. “You answered your own question.”
Spike looked at him, his eyes pleading for more of an answer than that. Angelus felt his unwavering gaze and he sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“I’m the bad boy remember? The degenerate sex addict with a long list of meaningless lovers.”
He took another drink, scowling again as he watched Scott approach Buffy. He’d known Scott for three years. He was Owen’s good friend, a professional surfer, and he liked him. He was a good guy. He just never liked him sniffing around Buffy, which the younger surfer had been doing ever since she broke up with Riley.
“She’s better than that.” He added.
She’s better than Scott…
Spike snorted. “You know you’re wrong about her. I don’t know why you keep putting her up on some kind of cloud of heavenly virtue, she’s far from it mate. “
“Maybe, but it doesn’t matter.”
And it didn’t. He was still who he was. Twisted and fucked up.
Spike watched Angelus closely. He had thought long and hard on their conversation all day. He even looked at all of his other options – which were none. There was no one he trusted more with this deed then Angelus. He had even come up with his own suspicions as to why his friend wouldn’t do it and they were completely different than the answer Angelus gave him. Was he stupid enough to voice his opinion?
What the hell my body is already bruised what’s a couple more.
“You know what I think? I think that she scares the bloody crap out of you.”
Angelus turned very slowly, lethally, and looked at Spike his eyes hard and cold. “Excuse me?”
Spike shrugged, both of their gazes drawn back to Buffy who let out a small yelp as she almost tripped over her own two feet, only to be caught by Scott’s waiting arms – causing Angelus’ scowl to darken.
“See you’re afraid that if you sleep with her then she’s going to become something more to you than just a friend or a casual fuck.”
She laughed; it was husky…sexy. She looked up at Scott, her hand coiled around his forearm. Angelus could just picture her batting those full eyelashes at the surfer, flirting with him.
He gripped his beer.
How can I be afraid of that little slip of a female?
Spike was silent as they both watched her, one in concern the other in bewilderment. Angelus treasured the brief reprieve and took a drink just as her eyes turned and their gazes locked.
Her smile faltered slightly, and he knew that like him, she was remembering what happened earlier, remembering how close they had been, how the air blazed around them. She quickly looked away then turned back to Scott. She kissed him on the cheek then walked away from the love-struck surfer and started walking toward them just as Spike continued.
“That, my hard-ass friend, scares the shit out of you, because then you would have to admit that you were just like all the rest of us pussywhipped-love-struck-assholes, as you like to say, and we all know that you’d rather chop off your own arm than admit that you were wrong.”
Is Spike right? Am I afraid of feeling something other than lust or friendship? No way!
Before Angelus could respond, with what he had no idea, Buffy came over and dropped in the sand at his feet. She lay on her back looking between the two of them, craning her neck. The tension that had been visible before was now gone. She was relaxed, she was smiling inanely at them, and her eyes were glassy, she was…drunk.
“What’s with the all the grim faces? We won the game, the booze is flowing, and it’s a beautiful night!”
Spike chuckled at her drunken antics while Angelus, who was trying to get a grip on his irritation from feeling completely perplexed with his emotions, scowled.
“Jell-O shots anyone?” Owen walked over carrying a tray of little paper cups - each one deliciously filled with jell-o and vodka – he was followed by Oz, Willow and Faith.
While Spike grabbed a shot, Angelus was inwardly denying what his friend suggested. It was ludicrous. He feared nothing. He was completely and totally incapable of even considering that what Spike said just might be his problem.
“We made a new batch.” Willow said as she sat down on the sand.
Oz sat on the empty Adirondack chair next to her. “Lemon.”
“I hate lemon, why couldn’t we make the grape. Those are way better.” Faith said as she threw herself onto Spike’s lap and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Because we just had those Faithy and variety is the spice of life.” Owen responded with a big smile on his face as he knelt down in front of Buffy.
“Oh, yummy.” She grabbed one, tilted her head back, and raised her arm to suck it down only to find that her hand was suddenly empty.
“You’ve had enough.” Angelus gruffly said as he raised the cup to his own lips and sucked it down.
Buffy scowled, “hey, that’s my shot.” She went to slap him on the thigh but the fast motion made her elbow slip in the sand, she completely missed her target and fell forward.
Everyone chuckled.
“I think the big guy’s right lil sis, you’re hammered.” Owen said as he stood up then yelled across the beach as he strolled toward the rest of the party revelers. “Jell-O Shots! Who wants em?”
“I am not hammered.” Buffy said to Owen’s retreating back as she righted herself.
“Yes you are.” Angelus answered her.
Settling back she leaned against his leg as she looked up at him and stuck her tongue out.
I’m flirting with him, what the fuck is wrong with me?
She had no answer to her question and she honestly didn’t even want to think about it anymore. She was tired of thinking. She just wanted to be in the moment; enjoy the beautiful night, enjoy her friend’s company – which he was one – and relax. She didn’t appreciate being denied a jell-o shot though. So in defiance she deftly grabbed Angelus’ beer and took a swig before he could stop her.
He smirked at her quick and very un-hammered maneuver, then he grabbed it back, “brat.”
She smiled and shrugged her shoulders, settling back against his strong leg. It was funny how easily they conversed with each other after what happened earlier. Not that things like that never happened between them because they always did, but tonight had been different. Tonight they almost crossed that invisible line. She would have thought that there would be some sort of awkwardness but there wasn’t. It was like they both acknowledged what had happened, and they both knew that it would have been a mistake, and moved on.
Just like they always did…
She felt the heat and strength of the body that she leaned against and it comforted her. Moments like this, when they were just two friends kicking back with their other friends, reminded her of why the desire had to be denied. Yeah, she had issues with his outlook on sex and relationships but it was more than that. It was because she loved this. She loved the kooky relationship she had with him and she was afraid that if she stepped over that boundary she had laid down for herself that she would lose this, and that she didn’t want.
“Dude, what was up with tonight, you spent more time in the penalty box than on the ice.” Oz asked.
Angelus shrugged.
“That’s because he likes to make my life difficult that’s why.” Buffy said, thinking of all the stupid questions she had to answer from the press after the game.
“It’s not the quantity of time Oz it’s the quality.” Spike pointed out.
Angelus smirked. He had spent more time in the penalty box than anything else tonight and the bruises he was sporting pretty much said it all. The opposing team had become his outlet for his frustration over his conversation with Spike and his self disgust over what happened in the hallway with Buffy. Still, regardless of how much time he had spent in the penalty box, the time he did spend on the ice was spent scoring goals and winning the game. Quality over quantity.
“Who’s our next victim?” Spike asked Angelus.
“The Ducks, tomorrow night in Anaheim, we’re leaving tomorrow morning.” Angelus answered.
“Isn’t Owen leaving tomorrow for Hawaii and the Pipeline meet?” Willow asked and Faith answered.
“Yeah, he’s going to be gone for a week.”
“And Mr. and Mrs. P are taking their RV trip this week too.” Oz added.
“Oh yeah, where they going this year?” Buffy asked.
“East, to visit the kids.” Willow answered and then she added, “Isn’t Harmony going to Florida this week also?”
“Left already Red. Saw her leave this morning. She’ll be back next week.” Spike said.
“So when are you guys leaving?” Buffy asked as she looked over at Spike.
“Tomorrow. We’ve got four gigs lined up in San Diego.”
“Are you still coming with us Red?” Faith asked.
“Yeah, I got a week’s vacation that I haven’t used and I’m being forced to take it. So I told them I’d be out this week. I’ve got nothing else better to do.” Willow said smiling and shrugging.
Willow was the classic work alcoholic. A chemist by trade she worked at a highly respectable firm that was contracted by the government. It was a tough field for a woman and she worked endlessly at it, always trying to stay on top of her fellow male counterparts. She rarely ever used her vacation time, and her boss fearing she would burn out, insisted that she take time off at least once a year.
Everyone noticed the light that appeared in Oz’s eyes as he gazed at Willow and listened to her answer, they all smiled. Of course Angelus couldn’t leave it alone. He figured if he couldn’t have what he wanted then at least his friend should.
“Where you guys sleeping, in the cars or a hotel?” He asked. His question was answered with a hard squeezing pinch from a pair of hands that suddenly found themselves on the back of his calves.
Quietly hissing under his breath, he accusingly looked down at Buffy, who surly stared back at him basically telling him to keep his mouth shut.
Spike hid his amusement from Angelus question and answered. “Well I don’t know about those two…” he said pointing to Oz and Willow, “…but me and Faith will be shacking up at the Holiday Inn.”
“You’re going to have the whole block to yourself B.” Faith commented with a grin in her friend’s direction knowing how much she hated that.
Great, there’s nothing like solitary drinking…joy of joy…
Buffy frowned, “Yay me. I’m so looking forward to it.”
Spike turned his attention to Oz and they started to quietly talk about the upcoming shows, as Faith and Willow talked about the shopping in San Diego and the stores they wanted to hit while there.
Angelus and Buffy just sat quietly and listened. She still sat on the sand, her legs stretched out before her. She was sitting in between his legs with her head now resting against the edge of the wooden chair. It wasn’t an unusual position they found themselves in, they often sat like this when they were all hanging out together, watching a movie, or like now, just enjoying each other’s companies. Friends talking to friends. It was nice and it filled both of them with contentment.
Would I lose this, if I did what Spike asked?
That was the question Angelus found himself asking all day.
He closed is eyes for one brief minute, his hand rising, his fingers massaging the bridge of his nose. He felt like dead weight. Even if he wanted to move he wasn’t sure if he could. He was physically exhausted. A bloody hockey game, a brutal volleyball game and lots and lots of beer, all played their part but it was his thoughts that made him quiet and ominous, zombie-like.
Absentmindedly, his fingers played with a strand of honey blonde hair that was lying on his thigh as he remembered their meeting in the corridor at the Forum. She had seemed so…needy, was the only word he could use to describe the intense waves of lust and longing that had come off of her. As he looked into her eyes he glimpsed a hint of the dark desire that brewed just below the surface and Spike’s earlier comment came to mind. Maybe there was more to Buffy Summer’s then met the eye. Maybe he was making her out to be something she really wasn’t?
Buffy took advantage of Angelus’ stoniness and once more grabbed his beer out of his hand.
His heavy gaze was immediately drawn to her and he watched as her head slowly tilted back and those mossy green eyes lifted holding his own dark orbs. Their gazes held as she drank but then for some perverse reason he let his stray.
His eyes wandered down her throat. Fascinated, he watched her throat work as she drank his beer, something so natural yet its sensuality was striking. Not stopping his torment there, his gaze slowly looked down her chest and to the low cut of her bathing suit top that was more alluring than if she had been naked. It was his favorite; it was blue, black and grey, the colors of the LA Kings - his colors - and it barely covered her breasts as the mouthwatering globes threatened to spill out of the sides and the center. Continuing on with his pursuit of self masochism, his gaze moved lower down to her tight belly and then to the enticing V of her legs. He only allowed himself a few seconds of decadent thoughts on that forbidden spot until he moved on and his brown orbs caressed lean tan legs that were resting in the sand. When his gaze finally moved back up to her face it was to find those green eyes, though slightly darker, lingering on his face. He grabbed his beer back and drank it down, needing to feel something cold. |