Warning: It's kind of noncon...not as harsh as I've written before; so just use your best judgement, I guess.
Pairing: Willow/Angel
Summary: Angel and Willow in the mansion shortly after his return from Hell.
Feedback: Please! I haven't been getting much feedback lately and I'm wondering if anyone is even reading my stories. I hate to beg, but feedback would sincerely be appreciated right now!
Distribution: If you have any of my previous fics, you may have this. Otherwise, please ask first.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to Joss and a bunch of other people who are not now and have never been me.
Author's Notes: I'd like to dedicate this to Missy, whose fic I am not beta-reading right now, cause I've been too busy writing this story! Sorry, Missy!!!!!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The thoughts come in great jumbled bursts of words and images. His mind, having been shut down for so long after succumbing the torments of Hell, is slow to work again.
Hell. No. Not Hell, now. House.
But first was sword and flames and agonizing pain. Blonde hair and lips that lied sent him away, sent him to his doom. Then brought chains to hold when he escaped, came back...back to where? Home? No, not home, never home. But house, his house. Safe, now. Now that the chains are gone and she is here.
This girl, she is one with his soul and it is she who brought him back from the place of torture and terror he thought he would never leave.. He knows this, though he doesn't know how, or why. And he doesn't understand her fear. She didn't fear him at first. When she came and took away his chains, fed him from small packages, bathed him and soothed him. But now there is fear and he struggles to make sense of it.
It started when she brought him to this room, with its soft bed. When he had pulled her to the bed with him, to thank her in the only way he knew how for coming to him, for taking care of him, for saving him, to show her that she was his, that was when he felt it. Felt her pull away from him.
And now he hears words and cries, but can make no sense of them; his mind has not recovered that far yet. He can only decipher the emotions he can sense pouring off of her: fear, confusion, pain. No love, no desire, no sense of completion, none of the things he feels as his hands roam over her soft flesh. He gazes at her with amber eyes as he takes in her loveliness, her pale, milky skin, her small, perfect breasts, her silky red hair, her slender limbs, her green eyes brimming with tears. A memory of the one who sent him to Hell beneath him in just this way assaults him, bringing forth an angry growl and heightening the fear he can sense pouring off the girl he knows is his. He tries to soothe her, but his purrs and soft touches seem to do nothing to reassure her.
Perhaps when they are truly joined, she will see. She will feel, as he does, that they are meant to be one. Soulmates.
But as his hand moves between her thighs, he can feel that she is not ready to take him. So he bites into his wrist, spreading his own blood over his cock, hoping this will ease the pain of her virgin body taking him for the first time. He can smell her purity, knows she has waited for him, even if she seems curiously unaware of this right now. She'll know, when he's inside her, she'll know. Know that she is his, that in some way, she has already given herself to him and has just been waiting for the completion of their union.
As he thrusts into her, her anguished screams are drowned out in his
mind by the sound of her voice chanting words in an unknown tongue, the
feel of her soul guiding his into his body. And as he plunges over and
over into her warm depths, he feels it. He is home.
The End