His unnecessary breath was harsh against the shell of her ear while his hands roamed roughly over her vulnerable skin. There was no cloth to impede his progress, nothing to shield her from the painful sensory awareness of his full nude length pressed against her own. The Slayer in her screamed at the feel of the cool dry flesh against her own damp heat. The difference in temperature jarred her senses uncomfortably, making her feel like nothing more than a frayed mass of nerve endings. She trembled, every instinct she possessed driving her to find a way out. He wedged a powerful thigh between her legs, forcing them apart. A whimper rose in her throat and she struggled impotently, fighting for leverage. His large hand circled both of her wrists, holding them in a biting, viselike grip. She was panting now, her body beading with perspiration, adrenalin coursing through her veins.

Predator. Foe. Mortal Enemy. She knew his truths at the core of her being.

She made herself relax. Deep breath after deep breath filled her lungs until her tension eased a bit. Her muscles were forced into submission, her fight or flight reflex reigned in to manageable levels.

By degrees, his touch gentled. The crushing press of his weight receded enough to allow her to breathe normally. His fingertips, warmed from the fiery heat of her own body trailed lightly over her skin, skimming up her hip, along the curve of her waist. They tickled over her ribs.

She moved faster than a human eye could have registered, but it still wasn't fast enough. Before she could scramble off the bed, he was there again, his hand fisted in her hair, his body grinding her into the mattress. With a raw, predatory growl he caught her flailing arms, pinning them to her chest with one of his own. She whined, frantically trying to twist out of his crushing grip, but there was no escape. Strength evenly matched, he had the advantage simply by virtue of size.

He dragged her back onto the bed, flipping her onto her back and forcing her knees apart as he crawled between her legs. Preternaturally strong fingers encircling her wrists, he pinned both of her hands to the mattress on either side of her head. She was trapped quite effectively by the immovable flesh and bone cage of his body.

Leaning down, he rooted against the humid flesh of her neck, his cat rough tongue laving the sensitive column with licks that frazzled her painfully taut nerves. She whimpered, writhing ineffectively against his grip, futilely searching for any way out. He was aroused, all of his predatory senses heightened to almost unbearable levels. He could smell the adrenalin coursing just below her skin, hear the pounding drumbeat of her heart. His hips arched against hers and she could feel the rigid, insistent press of his sex against her most intimate places. Catching her earlobe between blunt teeth, he growled as he bit down carefully, rubbing his lower body against her in a demanding rhythm.

She whined, trying to arch away from him, but finding no escape. His teeth found her jaw and nipped along the flesh before catching her lips in a bruising, dominating kiss. She whimpered opening her mouth for him lest her lips be split. He plundered her mouth, his tongue scraping along her teeth before tangling with her own. Breaking the kiss, he pulled back far enough to look down into her face, his beautiful lips pulled up into a wickedly lopsided smirk of naked animal lust.

But her eyes weren't filled with carnal glee or desire. They were wide and frantic, rolling in her sockets. Her heartbeat was shallow and rapid, a hummingbird's wings beating against a pane of glass. Her muscles were coiled, ready to lash out with deadly force.

In the blink of an eye everything changed. His expression faded so completely she wasn't sure it had ever existed. In an instant, her hands were free and he was on the other side of the bed, sitting back on his heels, watching her warily.

Buffy took a moment to try and comprehend what had happened. Slowly, she sat up, her heart rate and breathing returning to normal. He remained perfectly still, watching her. Tentatively, she reached for him but he backed out of range.

"Angel - "

"I scared you," he said bluntly.

"I-," she began but then fell silent. She snapped her jaw shut. It was the truth. He had scared her. Only now, three years into their relationship, were they comfortable enough to start doing things like this, playing games, exploring their boundaries. She was the one who had instigated this particular interlude. "I'm sorry," she said.

He shook his head. "Never feel sorry for needing to protect yourself, Buffy," he said gravely. "You survive by your instincts. Don't discount them or train yourself to ignore them. I'm a vampire. I was threatening you. Your reaction was perfectly normal."

She frowned. "I'm a girl doing a little role playing with her boyfriend and freaked herself out," she replied dryly.

With a sigh, he crawled up the bed, laying on his back at her side. He didn 't move to touch her, but as she automatically joined him, pillowing her head on his chest, she could feel him relax. He nuzzled against her hair, wrapping his arms around her. "I love you, Buffy."

She looked up, holding his gaze. "I love you too."

His expression was gentle, but she could still read the hesitation in his eyes. He wouldn't forgive himself for scaring her and it was her own damn fault. Evelyn Crossgate had been gone for three years and she still couldn' t manage to exorcise that woman completely. Just when Buffy felt like she could create some semblance of a normal life out of her necessarily freaky existence, she was reminded that she was nothing more than a means to an end. She was willing to bet money that none of the other girls in her developmental psych class ever had to take a break during sex for fear of trying to murder their partner.

With a pouting expression firmly in place, Buffy pushed herself into a sitting position and then quickly straddled Angel's waist, staring down at him unhappily. He looked up at her passively. "I ruined the moment," she said.

"Buffy, you didn't ruin anything," he assured her.

"I'm an animal," she said flatly, her voice full of shame and self-loathing. It was an old argument. Angel knew how deeply her predatory nature bothered Buffy. He knew she feared that she was more of a creature than the demons she hunted at night. He also knew sometimes her fears weren't unfounded.

The day that Buffy nearly crushed Cordelia's windpipe had been bad. The budding actress accidentally scared Buffy while she was doing dishes. The night Willow tapped her on the shoulder while Buffy was patrolling was worse. Even with transfusions from elders in her line, Willow required months to heal. Unlike Cordelia, Willow made no effort to disguise her wariness towards the Slayer's hair trigger.

"You are what you are, Buffy," he said softly, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "And I will always love you."

She gave him a small smile but then rolled her eyes in self-deprecation. "I just wish that for five seconds I could be a normal girl."

His fingertips trailed lightly over her collarbone and then traced down her chest, edging along the outside swell of her breast. "You're not a normal girl, Buffy. You're extraordinary and I wouldn't want you any other way."

She opened her mouth to make some sardonic reply, but she read the truth in his eyes. She shook her head and smiled. "You're strange," she said, "but I love you for it."

With a wolfish smile, he replied, "Sexuality is very complex. Everybody has their own version of what is attractive. You just happen to fit all of mine."

"Oh yeah," she said with a goofy smile. "I bet you just love those feral girls, it's so wild never knowing if they're going to stake you in the middle of things."

He didn't laugh. There was an oddly speculative expression on his face.

"What?" she asked self-consciously.

"I love you, Buffy, just as you are."

She started to laugh and then stopped. "You're serious, aren't you?" she asked. "You're in to the whole Slayer thing."

He shrugged and looked away furtively.

It was her turn to play aggressor as she leaned forward, planning her hands on either side of his head. She leaned down, her nose almost touching his. "What aren't you telling me?" she asked.

He looked up at her with a slightly embarrassed expression. "I like that you're the Slayer," he said innocently.

"That's not all," she pressed.

He took a deep breath and released it. The wolfish, lopsided grin slowly returned. His hands found her hips and he rocked her backwards, letting her feel his erection. "I really like that you're the Slayer," he whispered intensely.

The tone of his voice, the hard length of his body; she knew he wasn't lying. Angel reveled in her power, her danger. While she couldn't understand his fascination with her, she accepted it because she felt the same way about him. Before Evelyn Crossgate turned her into Death, Buffy Summers had been a normal girl. She had dated normal boys, Ford and then Tyler. And even though those memories were so ancient they felt like another lifetime, she knew that the normal boys weren't right. Even in the days before she was called, their touch had never moved her, never resonated within her the way Angel's did.

It would be easy to dismiss it as the naiveté of youth; to say that she hadn't responded to them because it was merely child's play. But there was more to it than that. Mortal men, the beings she had been born to protect, were as alien to her as the terrain of a distant planet. She had no common ground with them. There wasn't even the fascination of the unknown. She humored them, even liked a few; Larry, Scott, Riley. But for all of the genuine affection she held towards them, she always felt like a fraud in their company. She felt like a caged beast, always trying to disguise a more base part of her nature.

With Angel she didn't need disguises. He could play human even better than she. He could discuss composers or literature; he could wax poetic about masterworks of art. He possessed a greater capacity for kindness and empathy than any mortal she had ever met. Yet given all these things, inside him there lurked a darkness to rival her own. In those moments when he let himself be free, his demon could match her Slayer tit for tat.

And those moments were glorious.

A grin spread over her own features and she leaned down again, her lips hovering a hair's breadth above his own. Her hot, moist breath puffed against him, but he did not move. Despite their earlier difficulties, Buffy did not have a problem exploring domination and submission - provided she got to be the dominant.

"Slayer," he hissed.

She caught his bottom lip between her teeth, sucking it into her mouth and worrying it. His breath caught sharply as she bit down, but he made no move to free himself. Breaking off the kiss, she pulled back to look at him, her mouth open in a pant.

His unnecessary breath was coming harshly, his eyes dark with desire. She sat back, looking down at him as she snaked her hand behind herself and wrapped it around his cock. She squeezed him gently and he made a strangled, needful noise. She stoked him roughly and a low growl rumbled in his throat. He forced himself not to thrust into her hand.

"Good boy," she said with a wink before releasing him. She pushed herself up on all fours and turned around, stalking down his body predatorily.

Her knees straddled his chest as she braced her forearms on his parted thighs. Without a word, she licked her lips and enveloped the head of his cock in her mouth. His flesh was cool and so deliciously hard. His taste was faintly salty from the droplets of pre-ejaculate that had beaded at the head. She licked him playfully, teasing his flesh with the tip of her tongue.

He growled, his fingers finding and biting into the flesh of her hips. She smiled around him, one hand grasping the base of his cock as she took him as far into her mouth as possible. She bobbed on him, her tongue laving the head on the upstrokes.

He pulled on her hips, urging her body flush against his own. She obliged him, moaning around his rigid flesh as his cool tongue tickled along her damp cleft. He buried his face in her folds, lapping the moisture from her outer lips before delving deeper. He gifted her hard little nub with teasing flicks of his tongue and was rewarded when she moaned around his cock.

He licked her thoroughly, his senses overwhelmed by her unique smell and taste. He suckled at her clit, concurrently prideful and bereft when she released him from her mouth to moan aloud. He pulled her back farther and she complied, planting her hands on either side of his chest and pushing herself up. His tongue delved inside her slick channel and she squirmed.

With a growl, Angel tightened his grip on her hips and flipped her onto her back. Her hair splayed over the mattress and she stared up at him with a passion drugged expression. With a wicked grin, he dropped his head once again between her legs. One of her hands fisted in his hair, holding him to her as he licked and suckled. Her breathy cries filled the room, spurring him on. He slipped her clit into his mouth, nursing roughly as three of his fingers pumped inside her mercilessly. Her grip tightened and her back arched as she came, pushing against his talented mouth.

As the pleasure receded, her body relaxed. His hand absently stroked circles low on her belly as he pressed gentle kisses to her overly sensitized flesh. She was breathing hard, trying to regain composure as he pushed himself up on all fours. Her eyes were closed, but as she opened them, she saw his determined countenance.

He wanted his turn.

Suppressing the wicked smile that wanted to break free, Buffy rolled over onto her stomach. He was silent, but she knew he wasn't happy at her seeming refusal. Though he would have respected her wishes regardless, she knew he was extra cautious after her earlier tweakiness. Lucky for him her former hesitation was gone. It was no longer vampire to Slayer, but mate to mate. And she was his as much as he was hers.

Keeping her upper body flat to the mattress, Buffy lifted her hips. In his position on hands and knees behind her, he couldn't really miss it. But on the off chance that he wasn't paying attention, she wiggled just a little. A low warning growl issued from his throat. The naked, bestial sound sent a tingle up Buffy's spine. She was intentionally baiting him, toying with a demon. He was letting her know that she had best cease and desist or face the consequences. Given that the consequences were exactly what she was after, she wiggled again.

He struck with a predator's grace, his blunt teeth clamping down on the bare flesh at the nape of her neck. His fingers bit into her hips, holding her still as he buried himself inside her with one brutal thrust. His body blanketed her back as he went still. She could feel his unnecessary breath puffing around his bite and she whined, arching back against his teeth and cock.

His warning growl sent a shiver of anticipation through her body and she pressed her forehead to the mattress in submission. He released his bite, burying his face in the perspiration slick flesh between her shoulder blades. She felt his features shift into his demonic guise and swallowed harshly.

One of his arms wrapped around her hips, anchoring her in place. He spared her none of his weight, slowly thrusting into her as a low, sustained growl issued from his throat. Using Slayer strength, she clamped her internal muscles around him. He growled again, but to her delight, thrust harder. He pushed himself up, his fingers leaving bruises on her hips as he pulled her back against him thrust after thrust.

She keened, tipping into orgasm again. Before she had recovered, he fisted his hand in her hair, pulling her upright with him. Her own hand found the back of his head, pulling him down as his fangs sank into her neck. With a roar, he climaxed, pounding into her brutally.

Hours later, they cuddled together in their bed, their sanctuary. Angel nuzzled gently at the bite at Buffy's throat, licking it lazily. She turned her head, catching his lips in a gentle kiss. "That was way better than chocolate," she said.

He pulled back with an easy grin. "And less fattening," he added.

She giggled. "Happy Valentine's Day, Angel."

"Happy Valentine's Day, Buffy."

The End