Always

Note: Text enclosed in < > represents thoughts or feelings. 

Willow stepped past Angel through the door he'd just opened for her.  Since leaving Sunnydale for Angel's LA apartment, they'd fallen into a companionable silence.  Absently, Willow rubbed her hands, trying to restore circulation to her frozen limbs.  LA was experiencing early frosts this September.  The motorcycle ride over, even with the protection of his helmet, jacket, and gloves had left Willow frozen solid.  She danced and jingled to get her blood flowing as he gently closed the door shut behind them.  She flexed her stiff fingers and puffed deep breaths to suck the warm apartment air into her lungs.  Angel, she noted with the slightest tad of resentment, remained unaffected by cold, despite all of Sean's rituals.  <Lucky...> 

 Angel quickly headed over to the thermostat and cranked up the heat.  He dropped the motorcycle helmet and gloves in the corner  "Here," he said gently, turning to her.  He captured Willow's bouncing hands in his own, engulfing them.  His body temperature abruptly warmed with feverish heat.  Willow gratefully threw herself against his chest and burrowed, trying to capture his warmth. 

 "Ya know," she muttered into his chest as his arms surrounded her.  "Most Watchers drive staid European vehicles, not a Katana."  He chuckled and hugged her harder. 

 "Most Watchers," he replied with a lazy drawl.  "Act older than I AM." 

 Willow sighed, resting the side of her face against his chest.  The black leather motorcycle jacket that she still wore creaked slightly.  It separated their bodies and felt intrusive.  Willow waited until she began to warm up before easing away from Angel.  He seemed perfectly content to simply hold her indefinitely. 

 He let her go easily enough when she pulled away.  Willow eased the jacket off her shoulders, revealing the knotted blouse underneath.  So extensive was the button missage from Angel's enthusiastic welcome earlier that evening, she'd been forced to tie her blouse back together.  He absently accepted the jacket from her and tossed it over the back of a nearby chair. 

 Willow was only vaguely aware of her surroundings.  The way he looked at her made her forget everything and anything having to do with the mundane.  His eyes held unabashedly masculine appreciation as he eyed the curve of her breasts longingly.  Willow stared back, not even remotely shy about returning his admiration.  <Lord!  He gets better looking all the time!> 

 Angel not only looked good, he looked dangerous.  He wore skin tight black leather pants that hugged and clung, displaying his assets to their fullest advantage.  In twenty years, he still hadn't managed to lose the white tee shirt.  Short black motorcycle boots completed the image of disreputable biker.  The ride over helmetless had left his hair in a sexy disarray.  His dark eyes and manner held an implicit challenge which certainly would have started a fight in any bar. 

 "Which is precisely why you should try and set a good example for them," Willow scolded, unable to let the opportunity to tease him pass.  Angel began to circle her slowly, like a wolf circling its prey.  Willow remained still, watching him move from the corner of her eye.  She shifted nervously as he disappeared from sight.  "Does your son--!!"  Her sentence changed into a yip as he unexpectedly seized her from behind. 

 "My son," Angel purred in her ear, as his arms came around her.  His pride and pleasure in his son were readily apparent.  "Thinks I'm 'lobo'," he informed her with pride.  His lips lightly brushed her cheek as he exhaled the modern equivalent of 'cool'.  His left hand slid under her parted blouse to cup her breast; his right flattened palm-down across her stomach.  "Xander makes a much better adult 'authority' figure," he chuckled, pulling her body back into his. 

 "Really?"  Willow challenged dryly, recalling the phone conversation she'd had with Cordelia last week.  According to Cordelia, between Angel and Xander, she felt as if she were raising five children and not just three.  Willow only managed to visit LA a few times a year, in between her duties in Boston and obligatory travel to remote locations around the world.  Deep down, she envied Cordelia's status as wife and mommy. 

 "Yes, really," Angel replied, thrusting himself up against her. 

 <Omigod...!!  >  Willow exhaled raggedly as his hips came into solid contact with her bottom. She could feel him, full and rigid, pressing against her bottom.  She knew he had to be eager.  They'd barely contained their desire enough back on the rooftop of the Bronze to avoid coming together right then and there.  Only the very real danger combined with both their veteran survival instincts kept baser instincts from prevailing. 

 Angel said something to her again, breaking into her reverie.  <What..?!>  Willow blinked, trying to refocus her attention on Angel.  His words made little, if any, sense to her.  Instead, her attention obsessed with his physical proximity. 

 "Nervous?" he repeated obligingly, nuzzling her throat again as his hands traveled lightly over her body.  With a quick tug, his skillful fingers unknotted Willow's blouse.  The front fastening clasp of her bra presented no more difficulty than the knot had.  "It's been a long time," he observed softly, stepping back from her enough to ease the blouse and bra off. 

 His action left Willow topless, standing with her back to him, so she preserved a degree of privacy.  Willow suspected that he'd done so deliberately, out of consideration for her potentially sensitive modesty.  She stood, considering, while he stroked the curtain of fine red hair spilling down her back.  <Long time is an understatement...  Twenty years since the last time a man--this man--touched me...  I'm practically a nun...!!> 

 "Yes," she whispered honestly, reaching for the buttons of her skirt.  She carefully unfastened them, holding the skirt up so that it wouldn't fall.  Then she turned to face him and deliberately dropped the skirt.  It slithered down her body to pool around her feet, leaving Willow naked except for a pair of white satin panties and her pumps. 

 It was Angel's turn to breath raggedly as she stepped out of the pool of material, freeing her feet.  She stood before him proudly, beautifully glorious in her nakedness.  Angel kept staring without speaking and Willow felt embarrassment beginning to creep up on her.  She flushed, turning a light pink and cast her eyes self-consciously downwards.  <I hope he's not disappointed.> 

 Angel approached her cautiously, as if afraid of frightening her.  He extended his hands to gently touch her shoulders.  His fingertips grazed her bare skin with butterfly lightness.  "You're beautiful," he whispered, his pupils completely dilated.  His eyes held reverence and one hundred percent awareness of how special this moment was.  They'd waited a long time to be together again and he couldn't risk doing anything to spoil their reunion. 

 Willow shivered slightly as his palms slid from her shoulders to her elbows with excruciating slowness.  She told herself it was the cold, knowing full well that it was his proximity.  She stared with determined fascination at his plain white tee-shirt, refusing to raise her eyes to his.  Finally, Angel placed his palm on the side of her face, gently tilting her head upwards.  Their eyes finally met.  "I love you, Seabhaicín," he murmured, deliberately letting her feel his love through the link. 

 She sighed softly, immensely reassured.  "I love you too," she replied, offering him her mouth.  Her eyes drifted shut as he leaned forward, accepting her invitation. 

 At first the kiss was light, a mere touching of their lips.  Willow deliberately opened her mouth wider, beckoning to his tongue in a gesture of feminine seduction as old as woman herself.  Angel accepted the invitation, invading the warm moist recesses of her mouth gently.  He explored with increasing confidence and then he conquered with arrogant aggression.  She whimpered helplessly and accepted his advances without a thought of protest. 

 Her back and bottom collided with a wall which he'd steered her into.  Willow jumped, startled by the impact of cold plaster with her bare skin and then subsided under his urging.  He pressed her back up against the wall, permitting her no room for escape.  His hands slid downwards, over arm and waist, then hip and thigh.  With a swift, sure movement he stripped her of her panties.  She trembled as the little bit of satin slithered down her legs. 

 He slowly perused her body with studied casualness.  Deep down, Angel felt the same underlying urgency Willow did, but he refused to cheat her by rushing.  With his hands and his mouth, he loved her body with the tenderness due an uninitiated maiden.  His lips were satin and silk on her breasts, his hands a whisper over her flesh.  With an outrageous amount of consideration, Angel began to drive Willow nuts.  She wanted heat and fire, not cotton candy and lollipops.  Finally, he touched her where she craved him.  She jumped slightly, yelping, as one of his hands settled in the soft nest of pubic hair near her sex.  <Finally!  Thank God!!!> 

 He shushed her, parting from their lengthy kiss long enough to offer her nonsensical sounds of reassurance.  Willow quivered as his thumb brushed lightly over her clit.  His fingers performed a spider walk over the sensitive flesh between her thighs.  Angel's fingertips traveled her outer flesh, meandering like fickle tourists, but not visiting her heartland.  His tentative exploration bore no resemblance to the aggressive touch she remembered so clearly, that she'd dreamed about.  <He's treating me like I'm a virgin...!!  More so than he did our first time together...!!  *Groan...*  Why does he always have to be so contrary...?!!> 

 "Angel, what are you doing?" Willow whimpered, as he continued to play with her with annoying tentativeness.  Deliberately, she broadcast her frustration at him, demanding more.  Her frustration provoked a like response from deep within him.  Angel hurriedly clamped down on the reaction, gritting his teeth against a snarl. 

 "I don't want to rush this or I might hurt you," he rasped roughly.  "I haven't been with a woman in over five years and--" 

 Willow grabbed his shirt, hauling him to her.  She wasn't a vampire or the Slayer, but being Immortal Watcher bestowed certain physical advantages.  She cut him off and shut him up with her mouth.  Angel emitted a faintly surprised sound as she ripped his shirt off, tearing the material to shreds.  "I haven't been with a man in twenty and if you don't hurry up, then I'm going to hurt *you*," she snarled against his mouth. 

 Angel leapt away from her, startled.  His reaction wasn't fearful, but rather the result of astonishment.  "Twenty...?" he mumbled, staring at her stunned.  As the truth sank in, his eyes widened.  A bizarre mix of horror, understanding, regret, and gratitude replaced the surprise.  "Willow, I--"  He shook his head in denial, looking inexplicably hurt.  "I never thought...  Never expected..." 

 "Angel," Willow sighed patiently, pushing away from the wall.  "Shut up," she commanded.  She gathered herself and leapt, pouncing on him.  Her attack knocked the startled vampire over, so he landed under her in a jumble on his back.  Aggressively, Willow set about tearing the rest of his shirt off.  <Revenge!!  A shirt for a shirt.!!> 

 She straddled him, positioning herself directly over his lap and then scored his bare chest with her fingernails.  Her vicious attack left long, red welts down his chest.  His response to the pain/pleasure was immediate and predictable.  Angel growled, baring his teeth.  His canines were partially elongated and his eyes held a faintly demonic light. 

 With a quick, efficient maneuver he flipped her over onto her back.  Angel landed on top of her with a grunt and smothered her mouth with his own.  His tongue plundered her depths with the force which she craved.  Willow buried her hands in his hair and held on for dear life, grinding her mouth against his own.  Meanwhile, his hands groped in between their bodies seeking his fly. 

 With a triumphant snarl, he ripped open his button fly and shoved his pants and underwear down off his hips.  He wasted no time, rubbing his manhood against her weeping sex with long sure strokes.  Within moments, he was slick with her juices and their bodies slid easily together.  "Angel please," Willow begged, lifting pleading hips to him.  <I need you.> 

 He dragged her insistent hands out of his hair.  With cruel efficiency, he pinned her wrists to either side of her head and raised himself over her enough to stare down at her helpless form.  Then he flexed his hips and drove his dagger into her, knifing her long unparted flesh.  Willow cried out, begging for mercy as he sliced her open with one exquisite thrust.  He stayed inside of her, sheathed to the hilt in her glove-like channel.  Willow locked her legs around his hips, crossed her heels, and hugged him tight.  <Ahhh...  Finally...> 

 With a series of small rocking thrusts he drove deeper, savoring every minute sensation, loving the feel of her small, tight heat.  Willow emitted a series of weak, stuttering whimpers as he redefined her reality once again.  Gradually, she adjusted to fit him.  To her relief, he gave her the time to do so, rocking slightly above her.  Willow briefly caught a glimpse of his thoughts and nearly blushed.  Being compared to a pussy cat in these particular circumstances conveyed more than just vague innuendo.  <Almost vulgar...?> 

 Suddenly, Angel moved, stroking his 'pussy cat'.  Willow whimpered again and kept whimpering as he petted her with long smooth strokes.  <Very vulgar...>  Before too long she climaxed, abandoning all thoughts of kitty cats, and vulgarity.  Her world exploded into little shards of light which racked her entire body with spasms which began in her womb. 

 Willow never felt Angel follow, being too caught up in her own pleasure.  Gradually, she came to her senses, becoming aware of his heavy form resting limply on top of her.  <Angel heavy!  Willow go squish!!>  Willow pouted comically, playing the role of sixteen year old ingenue to the hilt.  Angel grunted and sighed.  Finally, he took more of his weight on his arms, in answer to her unspoken complaint. 

 They stayed together for a long time.  Their mutual contentment and love made for a lethargic and comfortable silence.  Eventually, however, Willow began to twitch and squirm.  She lacked Angel's discipline and eventually her body's little annoyances began to get the better of her.  Angel rolled off of her with a long sigh, acknowledging to himself that Willow the Wiggle Worm needed to move.  Willow instantly clamored to her feet, searching for her clothes.  <Need to shower...> 

 "Giles is excited about having a new mom," he mentioned casually, pulling up his pants.  Willow, who'd been leaning over to collect her scattered clothing, nearly fell over.  "Course, he thinks you're a little young for me," Angel continued with a private smile at some inner joke.  He seemed oblivious to Willow's sudden turmoil.  In an uncharacteristically chatty good mood, he kept talking.  "And I probably owe Xander an apology for interrupting your trip down memory lane.  I promised him I'd wait until you two got back from Sunnydale." 

 "Giles knows...?!"  Willow exclaimed, staggered by the implications of his words.  She righted herself carefully, straightening slowly.  Angel glanced up, looking somewhat confused.  "About us...?"  she elaborated.  <He was planning on coming to me before tonight...> 

 "Sure," Angel replied, cocking his head slightly.  He looked mildly alarmed by her rather extreme reaction.  "I told him last week.  The whole story...  I wanted his blessing and for him to understand what we mean to each other."  He cocked his head, worriedly searching her eyes.  "I didn't want him feeling like I was betraying his mother." 

 Willow blinked rapidly, fighting back tears.  A lump of granite settled in her trachea, making it difficult to breathe.  The emotions flooding her were...  overwhelming.  <I thought that he'd forgotten about me...  That I'd just slipped his mind right up until I started to seriously consider breaking the link...> 

 "Willow...?"  Angel's eyes widened with alarm and fear.  "Was that wrong?" he asked, beseeching her.  "There is an us, isn't there?"  He looked scared to death that he'd misunderstood her, that he'd assumed more than she wanted, or was willing to give. 

 Willow turned away, a broken sob escaping.  She felt ashamed of herself for having underestimated him and herself.  <I'm doing it again...  Feeling like second best...  Forgetting how special he is, I am, we are together...> 

 Angel rushed her.  He hauled her around and into his arms.  "I'm not letting you go again," he snarled, picking her up.  He used all of his strength to restrain her, as if expecting her to fight him.  Willow didn't.  She went into his arms willingly.  She buried her face against his shoulder and cried with little whimpering sobs. 

 Through the link, she sensed Angel's confusion and frustrated sense of helplessness.  Holding her wasn't sufficient.  Shaking her wouldn't accomplish anything.  Crying himself wasn't manly.  Willow dropped her shields and pushed open the link.  <I'm sorry.  There is an us...  I'm yours, you're mine...  I was just scared...  Why did you wait five years if you hadn't forgotten about me...?> 

 Angel's breath expelled on a relieved sigh.  Tension drained from him slowly and his death grip on her relaxed.  Regret and sorrow replaced his fear and anger as he realized what had happened.  "I never forgot about you," he vowed, letting her feel the truth of his words. 

 Then he shrugged slightly, gesturing futility.  "The last five years just kind of slipped by.  I was grieving, then I was brooding.  All of my attention was focused on Giles and I just kind of forgot about time.  It's a weak excuse, but wait until *you're* over two hundred and you'll see how easy it is to forget time when you're just existing from day to day."  Gingerly, he reached for her across the link, trying to reestablish their previous closeness. 

 Willow sighed with relief.  Those were all reasons she understood, that made sense.  "If you're this unaware at two-sixty, you're going to be senile by the time *I'M* over two hundred," Willow snickered, trying to lighten the mood.  Angel gave her a lopsided, grateful smile as she accepted his telepathic advances, allowing him into her mind.  After twenty years, they were both very different people than they'd been when they fell in love.  But the love remained, as did their friendship and attraction to one another.  Their intimate relationship could be rebuilt. 

 "So, where are we going to live?" Angel asked casually.  He didn't want to leave LA until his son reached adulthood.  However, Willow lived in Boston, where she could easily fulfill her Watcher duties. 

 "Let's worry about that later," Willow suggested.  "Right now I'm dying for a shower and some food."  She turned, searching for the bedroom. 

 "Seabhaicín?"   Willow glanced back and met his eyes.  He looked vulnerable and uncertain.  "Can I come with you?" he pleaded.  His question, oh so soft, held implicit meaning beyond the obvious. Angel desired reassurance that she wouldn't ever leave him behind again. 

 Unconsciously, he extended his hand, reaching for her.  Willow smiled gently and took his questing hand in her own.  Slowly, she drew him towards her.  When they stood together, she took his other hand in her own and smiled up at him.  His answering smile blossomed in his heart, in eyes, in his soul.  "Always," she promised.  <This time we're together forever, my love...>