He began to purr as she ran her short fingernails through his hair, scratching his scalp.  He rewarded her efforts by pulling one of her pebbled nipples into his mouth and sucking roughly.  Whimpering, she automatically parted her thighs in invitation.  She moaned, biting down on her bottom lip as he slid into her welcoming liquid warmth and began a leisurely pattern of thrusts and withdrawals.

She wrapped her legs around his waist as he stroked into her, pressing soft kisses into the flesh of his neck.  Above her, he growled in satisfaction, softly capturing her lips with his own, suckling at her tongue as he thrust into her, firmly, but not roughly.  As she began to whimper, he hushed her pitiful sounds with words of love uttered between reverent kisses.  Propping himself up on one elbow, he snaked his hand between their bodies, applying pressure to her clit with the pad of his thumb.  She let out a strangled cry as her climax washed over her.  He watched her face contort in pleasure with a look of smug satisfaction, and as her release began to taper off, he joined her, flooding her womb with his cold seed.

Long moments later, they lay together, her tiny body draped across his much larger one as they languidly stroked each other's skin.  As Angel pressed a hard kiss against her forehead, she smiled, looking up at him with a happy, sated expression.  He wore a smug grin.

"What?" she asked playfully.

His hand trailed down from her shoulder to her deliciously full breast.  He squeezed it gently, causing her to squeak in surprise.

"You're curvier," he said quietly as his hand continued it's descent down her body, stopping to cup the gentle slope of her ass.

"Yeah," she said with a snort, "I keep eating like this and I'm going to weigh three hundred pounds."

He rolled his eyes at her, flipping her onto her back and pinning her underneath his crouching body as he appraised her form carefully. She was perfect, warm and soft, her skin still pinkened from their recent amorous activities.  Her flesh was unmarred, all of her previous wounds and scars having healed long since, save the brand on her throat.

"You're not overweight, Buffy," he said evenly.  "You're perfect."

She frowned at him, unwilling to admit that gaining weight was a positive change.  Though she had to admit she felt much better and Angel really didn't seem to mind ... but when men said and what they really thought were often two different things.

Angel had no trouble discerning the thoughts going through her mind and said, "You look like a *woman*, Buffy.  This is a good thing."

Narrowing her gaze at him, she asked, "Do you really mean that?"

He sighed and said, "If I wanted a twelve year old boy, I'd have a twelve year old boy, not find a woman to approximate one."

She flinched, remembering what she'd looked like several weeks earlier when he'd first brought her home.  It was true, she had looked much more like a pre-pubescent boy than the grown woman that she was.  Still, it was difficult getting used to her more voluptuous body, having spent more than a year undernourished.

Not wanting to dwell on her painful past, she playfully stuck her tongue out at him and rolled over onto her stomach.  She felt, rather than heard him laugh as he sank down onto the mattress next to her and pulled her back against his stomach, spooning her from behind.  He nuzzled his face against the nape of her neck and she sighed in contentment.

"Are you happy?" he asked, his voice quiet and somewhat hesitant.

She didn't answer immediately, giving the question some serious thought.  Was she happy?  "Yes," she answered, "I'm happy, Angel."

He wasn't sure what he'd expected her to say.  It seemed insanity to even ask.  He'd found her in a dark, crowded night club, assaulted and nearly raped her in an alley before bringing her back to his home where she found one of  his childer badly abused, chained hand and foot to the end of his bed.  How could anyone be happy with that?  But she was.  He didn't doubt the veracity of her statement one bit.  And it was true that things had changed immeasurably from those first few days after her homecoming.

For one, Spike now had a room across the hall.  But, while he was no longer kept under lock and key, he rarely ventured far.  Cordelia and Wesley were obviously pleased with the turn of events - though he surmised they would be more pleased if he would kick his errant childe out for good and send the Slayer packing back to Sunnydale.  But neither of those were going to happen.  While he was definitely more generous to his lovers than he had been at first, they were still *his*.

And he didn't share.

"I thought maybe we could go out tonight," he continued quietly, waiting for her reaction.

Buffy caught the odd undertones in his voice.  However innocuous his question may have seemed, she had no trouble sensing that his off hand manner belied something of import.  She worried her bottom lip between her teeth as she tried to figure out what he was thinking.  She and Angel had yet to do anything outside the confines of the hotel.  Most of the time they didn't even leave his suite.  True, she had spent long afternoons lounging in the courtyard on a towel until her skin returned to its normal, golden-brown hue, but that was while Angel was sleeping.  Buffy, herself, hadn't left the Hyperion's grounds since her initial arrival.

"Where do you wanna go?" she asked quietly.

"I don't know," he said lightly, "I thought maybe you would like to go dancing."

She curled more tightly into his comforting bulk as the weight of his intentions became clear.  Some part of her realized this for what it was, a test.  He'd spent the last month and a half helping her regain her health, shoring up the foundations of their relationship.  Now, he wanted to know if all of his investments were going to pay off.

Buffy was nervous.  She didn't like feeling as though her loyalties were being tried, which was exactly what was happening.  Loyalty to Angel had never been an issue.  She knew she belonged to him.  She'd only strayed after he'd left her, and even then, it was in some vain attempt to bring him back.  She had no doubt about being able to pass his test, but it didn't make her look forward to it with any more enthusiasm.

"Sure," she said quietly, plastering on a fake smile.

Looking over at the clock briefly, he returned her smile.  "I think we should have time for a nap," he said gently.

She sighed, resting her head on his chest as he wrapped his arms around her.  She needed his comfort in spite of the fact that he was the one making her uneasy.

Buffy squinted into the dimly lit space.  She'd never been in this club before--which was not really any surprise.  It was much more upscale than most of the places she'd frequented, yet she got the distinct impression that it was a party to just as many sordid events as the dives where she'd been a regular.

Angel pulled her along behind him as he pushed through the richly attired throngs.  Spike was careful to stay close behind her, possibly too close.  She seriously doubted that he kept grinding his erection into her ass by accident.  However, her annoyance with him was tempered by the fact that she was now supremely pissed at Angel.  With each passing second, she became more resentful of the fact that he felt the need to assess the limits of her loyalties.  She pushed back against Spike, nuzzling into the space under his jaw as they waited for a bouncer to clear a group of irritated yuppies out of a booth so they could sit.

"Don't be an idiot," Spike hissed in her ear hours later, clamping a hand around her upper thigh as she lowered the zipper, releasing his taut flesh.

Buffy turned to glare at him.  "I suppose you find this very amusing," she bit out.  "The Slayer being brought to heel, just like you were."

"No, Pet, I don't," he said, "but antagonizing him is not the way to make a point."

"I'm not antagonizing anyone," Buffy said sweetly.  "Besides, he's not even here."

Spike growled softly.  Angel was off getting drinks, and in his Sire’s absence, Buffy was trying to jerk him off under the table while flirting wildly with a handsome young man several booths down.  Tightening his grip until his fingers bit painfully into the flesh of her thigh, Spike succeeded in getting her attention.

"What?" she demanded.

"If you're really hell bent on doing this," he said through clenched teeth, his eyes tracking to the yuppie, "then find someone else."

"I can make eyes at whomever I want," Buffy said defiantly, tightening her little fingers around his turgid flesh.

He groaned, forgetting himself for a moment as he pushed his hips against her hand.  Despite his reservations about her actions, the situation was too decadently sinful to ignore.  Public sex in a crowded nightspot with one of the most attractive females he'd ever had the pleasure of rubbing up against.  Not to mention the fact that she was forbidden fruit.  The added element of danger if Angel should come back a moment too soon ...  Spike hissed as he climaxed, his seed spilling over her delicate little fingers.

Eyes closed, he panted hard as he recovered.  Moments later, back under control, he adjusted himself in the booth, zipping his jeans back up as he took out a cigarette and lit it.  He turned to face Buffy just as she licked the last of his cum off of one expertly manicured finger.  He suppressed the urge to groan at the sight.  Her eyes were filled with wicked laughter and she slowly turned her attention back to the dark haired yuppie who may or may not have watched the entire scene.

He shot her a withering look.  "You and I both know that we aren't free to do whatever we want, Pet," he said gruffly.  "I know you're angry that Angel's doing this, and I know you're only flirting with that bloke to piss him off, but pick someone else to make your statement."

Buffy's gaze narrowed and Spike realized he'd just made a huge tactical mistake.

"Why?" she asked calmly.  "Who is he?"

Spike cursed loudly and glared at the Slayer.  "He's a lawyer," he finally admitted.  "Works for Wolfram and Hart, name's Lindsey."

"Lindsey," she drawled slowly, grinning evilly.

"Look, Pet, I'm not kidding.  He's at the very top of Angel's shit list.  Stay away from him."

Buffy finally nodded, sinking back against the cushions of the booth as she turned her attention from the lawyer.

Buffy threw back the rest of her drink.  Her last one, as she'd been informed by Angel, because she was "too little" to be drinking very much.  She snorted at the thought.  What the hell did he know?  After the last year, she could probably drink his undead, immortal ass under the table.

"Stop it," she said, roughly pushing his hand away.

Angel glared at her, unaccustomed to having any of his advances spurned.  Just a week ago she wouldn't have dared be so insolent.  Perhaps she needed to be taken down a few notches.

Leaning in so that his face was almost touching hers, Angel asked with quiet menace, "Is there a problem?"

She glared right back.  "You mean besides the fact that you won't stop pawing at me like I'm some paid whore?" she asked with faux sweetness.

Growling softly, Angel sat up straight, taking another sip of his drink.  Buffy fumed silently beside him.  It wasn't that she minded his amorous advances, quite the contrary in fact, but this wasn't about want or need.  It was about ownership.  He intended for every other male in the club to be well aware of the fact that she belonged to him.  His advances were all for show and she resented it deeply.

"Lemme out," she said brusquely.

"No," he bit out in reply.

"I have to go powder my nose," she retorted impatiently.

His expression clearly conveyed the fact that he didn't want her to go, but he moved aside.  Perhaps this would be the ideal time to see if she truly knew her place.  He knew she was angry with him and he knew why, but if she could be irritated and still know her limits, that was even better.  Of course, he knew she would have to rattle the bars of her cage every now and then, it was her nature.

Buffy moved quickly towards the bathrooms, eager to be out of Angel's sight even if she would never be outside of his influence.  Inside the bathroom, she stalled, taking far longer than necessary, even for someone used to primping.  She touched up the dark red lipstick staining her mouth with inordinate attentiveness.  It was a futile gesture, the makeup would just be messed up later.  There was no way Angel was going to forego claiming her before dawn broke.

Finally, having exhausted all means of postponing the inevitable, Buffy walked out of the bathroom, trying to catch sight of her lovers through the swarm of people.

"You must be Buffy," a warm, rich voice drawled beside her.

Turning, she came face to face with the man Spike had insisted she avoid.  "Lindsey," she countered coolly.

He laughed.  "Funny," he said, "I didn't think Angel would tell you anything about me."

"He didn't," she replied candidly, "but Spike suggested I stay away from you."

"I'm not that dangerous," he said, smiling, obviously pleased that his reputation had preceded him.

"I wasn't insinuating that you were," Buffy replied calmly.  "Angel, however, is."

Lindsey bristled visibly at her slight, but quickly recovered his composure.  "I'd always heard that Angelus was a possessive lover," he commented casually,  "I wonder if he'd be shocked to know that his bitch sucked off his childe in full view of an entire nightclub?"

The Slayer's expression remained absolutely neutral.  She was used to playing deadly games with much more terrifying foes, her lover being the most notable.  "It was a hand job," she said dryly.  "I didn't *suck* anything."

"Touché," the lawyer replied smoothly.

"What do you want, Lindsey?" she asked point blank.

He smiled at her frankness.  She didn't have the simpering duplicity of most females he knew.

"Angel's head on a plate," he said seriously. "But seeing as how vamps dust when you cut off their heads, I suppose that's not really feasible."

Buffy remained silent.

"I thought you were missing," he said, changing tactics and leaning in so that his shoulder was almost touching hers.

"Angel found me," she replied.

"Did he?" Lindsey asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.  "And what exactly did he do when he found you?"

The lawyer reached out a hand, toying with the collar of her shirt.  One of his knuckles lightly grazed the scar tissue of Angel's bite.  It was red and irritated, obviously from having been reopened in the recent past.

"My guess is that he wasn't as gentle a lover as he used to be," Lindsey noted.

Buffy took a step back, making it clear she didn't want him touching her.  "What happens between Angel and myself is none of your business," she said harshly, becoming agitated.

"Does he hurt you?" Lindsey asked, fully cognizant of the fact that she did not wish to pursue that particular line of conversation.  "Does he humiliate you?"

"He loves me," she replied quickly, her voice sounding oddly ragged.

Lindsey laughed.  "How nice," he sneered.  "And do you love him?"

"Of course," she answered without thinking.

He nodded.  "And do you belong to him?"

Buffy opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.  Slowly, she became aware that someone else was taking a vested interest in her conversation with Lindsey.  Turning, she found her mate standing several feet away, his face an inscrutable mask.

"Answer the question, love," he said quietly.

Beside her, Buffy sensed Lindsey tense.  Turning, she looked at the lawyer.

"Yes," she said clearly, "I do."  Buffy hated herself for voicing the words, but she hated herself even more because they were absolutely true.

"Come on Lindsey," Angel said menacingly, "we'll give you a ride home."

Much to Buffy's shock, it really did appear that they were simply giving Lindsey a ride home, though knowing Angel, there was probably more to it.  She knew he was angry and she felt sick with anticipation.

Spike drove Angel's monstrous convertible with practiced ease.  Lindsey sat in the front with him, obviously anxious, while the Slayer and her mate sat in the backseat.  Angel was seated directly behind Spike so that he had a clear view of Lindsey and vice versa.  The lawyer kept looking over his shoulder nervously.

Buffy startled as Angel's arms clamped around her hips, pulling her onto his lap, but she did not resist.  She'd been waiting to see what he'd do and apparently, she'd just found out.  He scooted her forward and she felt him lower the zipper of his leather pants.  As much as she hated herself for it, Buffy was wet with the knowledge that her mate was about to take her in such a way.

"Spike, throw me your coat," Angel commanded.

Without comment, Spike grabbed the duster next to him and flung it over the seat.  Angel caught it easily and draped it over Buffy's legs, tucking it around her waist.

"It's okay Lindsey, " Angel said as he caught the lawyer trying to catch a glimpse out of the corner of his eye, "you can watch."

Underneath the coat, Angel hiked Buffy's skirt up so it pooled around her waist and pulled her panties down her deliciously tanned legs.  He threw the flimsy piece of silk over the seat and it landed on the dashboard.  Buffy blushed crimson in embarrassment but did not fight her lover's wishes.  She could feel him inch the confining leather down his hips and then in one swift move, he entered her.

She gasped, grinding down against him as best she could in her precarious situation.  Her nipples pebbled within the confines of her bra and she arched her back, attempting to take him further.

Angel reached a hand between her legs, which she parted ever so willingly.  As he gently stroked her clit, he whispered, "Calm down, we're not in a hurry."

In a rush, it hit Buffy why exactly they weren't in a hurry.  She couldn't keep herself from looking towards the front seat where she met Lindsey's intense gaze as he openly watched the couple in the back seat fuck.  She felt, rather than heard, Angel chuckle behind her.  Try as she might, she seemed completely unable to break away from Lindsey's eyes.  The knowledge that he was a complete stranger, unlike Angel's childe, and that he was watching them.  Not that he could see anything, they were both covered from view, but he *knew* exactly what was going on.  The way she moved, the way her breathing changed when Angel stroked into her, Lindsey could tell  exactly what was transpiring between she and her mate.  She was unable to stifle a moan of wicked pleasure at the thought.

Angel's other hand came up to idly caress her hard little nipples through the fabric of her clothes as he thrust into her lazily.  She whimpered, her fingers biting into the forearm of the hand that was stroking her clit, begging for more.

"Easy," he said into her ear.  She whined in response.

Lindsey cursed himself for getting hard as he watched them - and listened to them, and smelled them - but still, he could not look away.  Buffy Summers was possibly the most attractive woman he'd ever seen and even more enticing than Darla simply because of her willingness.  If the smug look on Angel's face was any indication, it was possible that he was enjoying this little show more than any of them.  It made Lindsey hate him just a little more, a feat he'd thought impossible.

Buffy mewled, her eyes squinting shut as Angel thrust up into her forcefully while gently pinching her clit.  She came apart around him, mindlessly chanting his name as her climax washed over her.  Angel waited until she'd come down, lying bonelessly against his chest before he moved her head to the side.  She didn't fight him in the least as he bared her neck.  His gaze connected solidly with Lindsey's as he bit into the tender, abused flesh of her throat and drew deeply, climaxing the instant her powerful blood hit his tongue.

Lindsey turned away in disgust, not so much at Angel, but more at himself for watching.  He could hear them both breathing raggedly behind him.

"Like the view?" Angel asked wickedly as he pulled out of Buffy and righted his pants.

Lindsey didn't bother to respond.

More than an hour later, a deliciously sated Buffy curled up against her mate's cool, hard chest.

"You did very well tonight, Buffy," he said softly as he toyed with her hair.

She was torn between the desire to stake him for being such a self righteous bastard and the knowledge that he was right.

She settled for a quiet, "Thank you."

The End

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