"A Letter To Riley"
Author: Deb Nockels
Email: Debnockels@aol.com
Buffy lit the final wick. After her conversation with Wes and Cordy, she'd taken a quick shower, touched up her makeup and put on fresh clothing. Then she'd gathered up every candle she could find in the house, along with a set of sheets and pillowcases, scribbled a note to her mom (who was at the movies with Dawn) and raced for the mansion. There she'd pulled off the dust covers, carefully so as not to send the dust flying into the air, put the clean sheets on the bed, and arranged the candles at various points around the bedroom.
She looked around in satisfaction. The sweet fragrance from the few scented candles wafted through the room; the tiny flickering flames provided just enough illumination so that she wouldn't walk into the furniture, and lent a romantic air to the rather gloomy surroundings.
"Buffy."
Angel stood in the doorway. She hadn't heard the front door open.
"Angel." She smiled and took a step toward him. "You knew I was here?"
He too smiled and moved forward a step. "Of course."
Buffy wet her lips. "Can we trust the vision?" Another step.
"Yes," Angel said with absolute certainty. "The visions are always accurate." He smiled faintly. "And it's not like Cordelia was happy about what it had to say. I mean, she didn't misinterpret it because it was something she wanted to hear."
"No," Buffy agreed, coming another step closer. "She made that pretty clear."
Angel also took another step, then another, until he was right in front of her. "Why are we talking about Cordelia?" His heart was in his eyes, and Buffy's heart gave a wild thump, making it hard for her to breathe. "I give up; why are we?" she managed to whisper.
"Buffy," he murmured, and reached for her, cupping his hands around her face, sliding his fingers through her hair. Bending down, he found her lips and kissed them softly, with immense tenderness. Buffy melted against him. "I can't believe this is really happening," she whispered. "It's another dream."
"Not this time," Angel whispered back. "This time it's real." He pulled her close, arms slipping down to mold her against him. Their lips met in a long, hard kiss. Angel's hands moved in hungry caresses over her back, and lower. Buffy shivered at his touch, stroking, caressing - the same motions she was performing on his strong, muscular buttocks. Angel shivered too; she felt it move through his entire body.
They drew apart, gazing into each other's eyes. Buffy took Angel's hand and they moved to the bed, standing beside it. She took the hem of his sweater and started pulling it upward until she couldn't reach any higher and Angel had to finish the job. His skin was cool beneath her palms, and she ran her hands over every inch of his pale, sculpted chest and arms, enjoying the sensation. "I'd forgotten how beautiful you are," she breathed as she moved closer.
Angel stopped her. "Not yet." His lips moved in a faint smile. "My turn." Buffy raised her arms and he pulled her light chenille sweater over her head. She was naked underneath it, and he drank in the sight of her - her shining hazel eyes; full lips slightly parted in anticipation; her glowing skin, beginning to flush a delicate rose color; the delicate curves of her breasts with their pink tips. "It's you who's beautiful," he managed to say over the lump her beauty brought to his throat. "You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen."
They kissed. Cool skin touched warm; soft feminine curves pressed against firm muscles; arms twined and hands caressed. Buffy planted kisses along his chest, stretching upward to reach his shoulders and the hollow at the base of his throat. Angel's lips were cool on her neck, his hands gentle in her hair and along her waist. She reached for his belt and unbuckled it, pulling it through the loops until it slid free then dropping it to the floor, where it curled into an S-shape. Angel stepped out of his shoes, kicking them to one side, and Buffy unhooked his pants. A moment later the pants were lying next to the discarded belt and Angel wore nothing but his black bikini Jockeys - and a perceptible bulge in front.
Buffy smiled, running her fingers lightly over the mound of his burgeoning arousal. " ‘Long voyage, sailor?' " she teased, quoting her favorite line from Top Gun.
"Too long," replied Angel huskily.
"Way too lo -" was all Buffy got out before he claimed her mouth, kissing her hard, as if wanting to make up for the long, lonely months they'd been apart. And she was only too willing. Their tongues dueled, brushing and tasting. Little moans escaped into the air, and Buffy's breathing was loud in the quiet of the night.
Suddenly Angel dropped to his knees and hooked his fingers in the waistband of her leggings. Slowly he tugged them downward. Buffy toed off her shoes and lifted one leg after the other for him to slide the leggings off. She stood before him in only a brief triangle of beige lace. Angel kissed the area between her breasts, nuzzling them slightly before proceeding downward, kissing as he went. His hands slid down her back to her buttocks; he felt bare skin and realized the panties were a thong. Briefly he dipped his tongue into her belly button, making her squirm and suppress a giggle, then she felt his breath on her groin and the wetness of his tongue over the lace - and all urge to laughter fled.
Angel breathed in the clean, womanly scent of her. It raced through his senses, setting his blood on fire. He swept his tongue over the lace at the bottom of the triangle. Buffy caught her breath with an audible sound; her hips swayed toward him in unconscious reflex. Gently he urged her legs apart, tonguing the area around the lacy edge, following it down as far as he comfortably could then flattening his tongue over the point of the V before starting upward again on the other side. Again he repeated his actions, and again, until he could taste her even through the lace, and the tang sent another electric thrill through his nerves. Switching tactics, he moved his tongue back and forth, hard, across her most sensitive spot.
Buffy gasped and clutched at Angel's head. She closed her eyes, feeling weak. How could what he was doing be affecting her like this? His tongue wasn't even touching bare skin and yet electricity was running through her in liquid waves. More pressure from Angel's tongue, and another wave of sensation.
Suddenly he stopped, and the next thing she knew she was on the bed, flat on her back with her legs dangling over the edge, and her panties were gone and Angel was between her thighs and his fingers were parting her swelling lips and now his tongue was touching bare flesh and it was cold and even more exciting than she'd remembered and he kept licking and caressing and - oh God! - she was about to burst and she couldn't understand it because this had never happened before, not this fast, usually it took much longer, and then Angel pulled her closer and her legs were over his shoulders now and his mouth - God! - his mouth was pulling and his tongue kept stroking, pressing, flicking, and she was writhing because all these feelings were surging through her and she couldn't keep still and then she felt the faint scrape of his teeth, just the barest touch, right above her throbbing clitoris and -
Oh GodAngelAngelAngelGod! ANGEL!
She erupted in an explosion of heat and light, incoherent cries coming from her lips. Her back arched and her fingers twined almost painfully in Angel's hair, while her legs tightened convulsively around his neck and spasms swept through her body, again and again. She collapsed back onto the bed, gasping and dazed, as lingering remnants of her orgasm sizzled through her, causing occasional little shivers. Long moments later Buffy opened her eyes to find Angel stretched out beside her, propped up on one elbow, a tender expression on his face as he stroked her stomach with his hand. Rolling over, she noticed that his briefs had gone the way of her panties, and he was fully erect.
"God, Angel," she breathed, "that was unbelievable. I've never felt anything so intense."
The engaging little half-smile she so loved appeared on Angel's face. "Thank you."
Buffy giggled, feeling suddenly euphoric. "No. Thank you." She slid closer and they embraced, legs twining together. His erection pressed against her stomach; she stroked him, softly, loving the feel of his tender skin. They kissed, and Buffy tasted herself on Angel's mouth. It was a strange taste, but it was one she'd grown accustomed to with Riley and anyway it wasn't as if she disliked it, it was just ... different. Strange. She licked the corner of his mouth, then looked at Angel. "Do you like it?" she asked, suddenly curious. "The way I taste?"
The crooked half-smile appeared again. "It's like ambrosia to me."
She smiled too. "Really?" Angel nodded. "What's ambrosia?" Angel laughed and kissed her soundly. "Ambrosia's the food of the gods," he told her. "It's sweeter than honey and more intoxicating than wine, and you can never get enough of it."
Buffy licked her lips thoughtfully, then shrugged and said, "If you say so. I don't see it myself, but I'm glad you do."
"I do," Angel assured her, still grinning. "Do I need to prove it again?" He started to slide down in the bed. Chuckling, Buffy stopped him. "No," she said. "I believe you. Besides, it's my turn now. Or ... your turn, I guess it would be."
So saying, she gently pushed him over onto his back, then lay beside him. This time she was the one who supported herself on an elbow, while Angel lay back, pulling a pillow under his head. Her head propped on one hand, Buffy ran her other hand over his chest, enjoying the feel of the hard musculature. She caressed one flat nipple, then moved on to his stomach, smoothing the faint line of dark hair that ran down his abdomen until it merged with the thatch of wiry curls covering his groin. From the center of that dark nest rose his erection, tall and proud, though not as proud as it had been a few minutes earlier.
‘Oh, no!" Buffy exclaimed. Angel started to sit up in alarm, but she held him down. "Look at the poor thing; it's started to wilt!" She sent him a sly glance from the corner of her eye, and he relaxed again, chuckling. "Guess it needs some First Aid."
"You're the only aid I need," Angel began to say, but cut off with a hiss as Buffy's mouth descended on him. He drew in another hissing breath as her tongue began working him, sweeping along his shaft while she drew him into the suction of her lips. Her mouth was hot and wet and she knew how to keep the pressure going, so before many seconds had passed he was once more as thick and hard as a steel piston.
Pulling away, Buffy surveyed him with satisfaction. "There, that's better." She kept her hand wrapped around his shaft, but moved up a little on the bed. As they kissed, she stroked him gently but firmly, varying it with light caresses from her fingertips that drove him crazy with their tantalizing touch. He felt her tongue on one nipple, then the other, then she was moving, kneeling between his legs, taking him in her mouth again with long, deep motions and he made a little sound as this new position allowed her tongue to brush just the right spot on the head of his cock as her mouth moved up and down, up and down... .
Her clever little fingers were brushing the soft sacs below, taking them into her hand and gently caressing, and his head swam. Then it wasn't her hand but her mouth, moving down, suckling gently, and he groaned out loud at her touch on that sensitive, tender area, the perineum, and fire was running through his body. Her hot mouth released the sacs, returning to his cock, and he was engulfed in heat, and moisture, and softness, and he was so damn hard it hurt and he just had to be in her.
Right now.
He gasped out her name, rolling over and pulling her beneath him in one motion. She started to protest, but he choked out, "Please!" and she reached between their bodies and guided him to the entrance of her body.
One long, smooth lunge and he was deep inside, engulfed by even greater heat and moisture. A shudder ran through Angel from head to toe and he heard Buffy whimper. "Did I hurt you?" he gasped, forcing his eyes open to gaze at her with anxiety.
"What?" Her uncomprehending, dazed look was answer enough. He pulled back and lunged forward again, more gently this time, groaning out loud with pleasure. "God!" he whispered. "You feel - so - good!"
"So - do - you!" she panted, meeting his thrusts with equal intensity. "Oh, God!"
There was no more conversation, only moans and gasps and kisses and little cries and wet sounds as their bodies met and withdrew in the timeless dance of love. All Angel could hear was the wild pounding of Buffy's heart and her hoarse breaths in his ear. Her strong, hot hands clutched at his back, his buttocks, her nails drawing more fire to the surface. Gradually their movements quickened and then grew urgent; the impact of their bodies coming faster and faster until with strangled cries they came simultaneously.
They lay as they were, still joined, so closely entwined in a tangle of arms and legs that a casual glance would have been hard put to decide where one ended and the other began. Buffy's blood still sang in her veins; she felt light as air, like she was floating. Angel was lying mostly atop her, but in her relaxed, dreamlike state she scarcely felt his weight, was aware only of a sort of joyful peace, a completion, as though a part of her that had been missing had finally returned, and nothing could ever be wrong with the world again.
Angel shifted a little, his face turning toward hers, finding her lips. He kissed her with such palpable love that tears came to Buffy's eyes. "I thought I remembered what it was like," he murmured, "but I was wrong. Making love with you is ... do you remember the song we heard earlier, at your house?"
Buffy nodded; she couldn't speak.
He kissed her again. "For almost a century I was only half a person, until the day I saw you. In your arms I truly am born again."
Buffy's tears fell, sparkling on her cheeks. "I know the feeling," was all she could say. She kissed him tenderly. They remained in the same position, snug and safe, softly kissing and touching, savoring their closeness until, inevitably, they drifted into a light doze. Buffy woke when Angel began to move inside her, and she realized he was hard again. This time their lovemaking was long and leisurely, with none of the frantic urgency that had overtaken them before. When it was over, they were both covered in sweat, utterly drained, and completely content.
Buffy rolled onto her side and Angel spooned against her, one arm under her head, the other holding her close. After a while Buffy asked, "Angel, the last time, when you lost your soul ...how long did it take?"
Angel chuckled and brushed strands of hair back from her face. "You don't have to worry, Buffy. It isn't going to happen this time. Or ever again."
She rolled over to face him; her beautiful eyes looked at him gravely. "We never talked about it. What did happen, exactly? Please, I . . . want to know."
"All right," he said softly. "I don't understand why, but . . . after we made love that night - by the way, did I ever tell you how wonderful that night was?"
Buffy tapped him lightly on his nose. "Stop changing the subject." But she smiled tremulously as she said it, and her eyes filled again.
Angel kissed her forehead. "We fell asleep." Buffy nodded. "I'm not sure how much later it was, but it didn't feel like very much time had passed - less than an hour, I think. Anyway, I woke up, in pain. It got worse, and suddenly I realized what it was. I threw my clothes on and tried to run as far from you as I could, but I only made it a few blocks before I collapsed. And then ...well, you know what happened." In spite of his current happiness, the memory brought a shadow to his face.
Buffy stroked his face, but she was frowning. "Why was there pain?"
Angel shrugged. "It hurts, having your soul ripped from your body. Or returned to it, for that matter," he added, remembering a certain long ago night in a gypsy camp.
Surreptitiously checking the time on her watch, Buffy nodded slowly, caught in memories of her own. Fighting Angel, with Acathla looming in the background. The sword sailing out of Angel's hand, clattering to the ground. Angel on his knees, suddenly gasping in pain, body arching tight as *something* went through him, his eyes briefly glowing red before he slumped to the ground.
Angel's hand on her face brought her back to the present. "You don't have to worry, Buffy," he repeated, brushing her cheek.
She smiled. "I know." Suddenly she scooted away, leaning over the edge of the bed and fishing for something on the floor. Angel frowned in confusion. "Buffy, what - " She reappeared, cell phone in one hand. Punching a button, she waited a few seconds then said, "Will, it's me. You can go to bed now; everything's fine. Yes, I'm positive. Absolutely positive. Yes. Goodnight and - Willow? Thank you."
Snapping the phone shut, Buffy once more disappeared over the side. When she returned, her hands were empty. Settling herself beside Angel again, she heaved a sigh of contentment. He looked down at her. "What was that all about?"
"Oh, I had Willow and Tara standing by with an Orb of Thessula - just in case," she said casually.
He looked at her for a moment in disbelief, then burst into laughter. "You mean, poor Willow has been waiting by the phone all this time for us to finish making love, to be sure I didn't turn evil again?"
‘Yep," Buffy grinned. "I wish I could have seen the look on her face when I asked her."
"I can imagine," Angel chuckled. Then he heaved himself on top of her, pinning her to the bed. "Maybe we should test it again, just to be sure."
"Exactly what I was thinking," she said with mock astonishment. "How did you know?"
" ‘The Shadow knows all,' " Angel intoned in his deepest voice. They kissed, and before long the creaking of bed springs was all that could be heard.
The End