Rating: FRM
Pairing: Willow/Angel
Warnings: Non-consensual and semi-consensual sex.
Summary: Angel tries to convince Willow of the depth of their bond.
Distribution: If you have permission to archive the previous stories in this series, you may have this. If not, 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 would like to dedicate this story to all the readers who have waited so patiently for an update! Thank you! And I love you!
Author’s Notes Two: I would like to thank "Team Beta" for their advice, support, and assistance in getting me to where I had the confidence to post this! Tonya, Missy, Emmy, Kat...I love you gals with everything I am! No NASCAR driver ever had this good a pit crew! No fighter ever had this terrific a bunch in their corner!
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"I’m not yours."
Angel hears the words, but he can’t understand why Willow is saying them. She is his, how can she not realize that? Flashes of memory race through his brain, but they confuse, rather than enlighten him.
He sees himself with the Slayer, the one who sent him to Hell. But they aren’t fighting, they are kissing and holding each other. The memories continue to come at him in almost frightening bursts of tangled images and fragments of conversation he can’t quite hold on to.
*"When you kiss me, I want to die."*
*"I love you."*
*"Close your eyes."*
Images of himself holding the blonde girl close, kissing her, making love to her, fill his tortured brain. These recollections are closely followed by images of them fighting, and then one final memory, that of her running him through with a sword and sending him to Hell. He’d seen flashes of some of these things earlier, when he was making love to his Willow, but even now, with his awareness growing and his cognition coming back to him, he can’t make sense of them.
Yet there are also images of himself in Willow’s bedroom as she works on her computer . If he’s been in her bedroom, doesn’t that mean there is something between them, something that should make her welcome him as her lover? And then the images of himself with the Slayer return; they are in a bedroom-*his* bedroom-and he once again sees them making love. This, he senses, is when he lost his soul. But how did he lose his soul...and why did he make love to the girl anyway, when it is Willow who he knows is his? Didn’t he know this before?
He shakes his head, hoping that will somehow cause the images and memories flooding his mind to make sense. But the only thing that makes sense is Willow, the girl in his arms, his bed, the girl who bears his mark on her neck and his seed in her body, whose soul is bound to his.
She is still talking, trying to tell him something, trying to convince him that she belongs to someone else, and that he loves the girl named Buffy. But Angel stops listening. He is sure it is just the shock of everything that has happened and his sudden reappearance after being in Hell for so long that has him so confused and has left her so unsure of his feelings for her and the bond they share with each other.
The bond, that’s it. He feels it, but perhaps she doesn’t. He is a vampire; bonds are natural for him. But she’s mortal and may not know how to reach out through one, or even know that it’s there. Perhaps if he actively uses that bond, he can make her aware of it. He concentrates and reaches out to her through the cord that binds their souls together, the chain forged the night she returned his soul to him, guided it back into his body with her power and her goodness. All the love, gratitude, and passion he feels for her pours across that bond, trying to reach her. At first, it appears hopeless; she is still talking as if there is nothing between them and begging him to let her go. But then he senses it, a subtle shiver that passes through her, causing her to tremble in his arms; a shudder that lets him know she feels something.
She looks up at him, eyes full of confusion and wonder, and whispers, "Your soul. I can feel it."
Angel can’t help himself, her words fill him with a sense of exhilaration. He tilts her face up to him and kisses her, gently at first, but soon his kiss turns more passionate as he tries to convey all the ardor and urgency he feels. He pulls back after a few moments, remembering her need to breathe, and gazes into her eyes. They are glazed, and he can still sense confusion pouring off of her. But she feels the bond now, and he is sure she will soon stop fearing him. He starts kissing her again, then moves his lips from her mouth to her neck. Letting his hands roam over her now-unresisting body, he lowers the two of them back down so they are lying across the bed once more. His eyes roam across the supine form of the beauty beside him. She is so lovely, so delicate, so perfect. He catches sight of the bruises marring her porcelain flesh, the marks on her wrists and thighs, and he is torn; torn between pride at seeing her carrying the marks of his possession on her skin, and anguish at the pain these marks tell him he caused her. He brings one of her wrists to his mouth, kissing the mottled flesh as he watches the expression on Willow’s face.
"Angel...," she protests weakly, before Angel puts his finger to her lips to silence her.
He knows she is still nervous, still fears him, though he wishes that weren’t so. But he also knows that she feels their bond, and that she is beginning to understand and accept what they mean to each other. Soon she will feel more than that, he is certain of it. Their first time together was too rushed, too frantic, and Angel wishes he could go back and make it right. But he wasn’t himself then, he hadn’t been able to hold back. He’s still not fully right within his mind, he knows this, but he’s much more rational now; and he needs to be with his Willow again, to show her how much he cares for and loves her, to worship her body with his, to make things right and perfect between them.
Moving between her legs, he keeps his eyes locked on Willow’s, wanting her to see into his heart, to see that he won’t hurt her this time, that he never *intended* to hurt her before. He kisses his way down her body, his mouth closing around her breast, suckling gently at her nipple until he hears her moan. He senses the first stirring of arousal within her and turns his attentions to her other breast, while caressing the one his mouth has left with his hand. He can feel the desire building in her body, even if she hasn’t accepted it with her mind yet, and he knows that, whether she realizes it or not, she wants him, needs him, the same way he wants and needs her.
Soon, he has kissed and nipped his way down her belly to the juncture between her thighs. It is then that he senses her fear building once more to a level that threatens to overwhelm and extinguish her arousal. Latching onto the bond, he tries to calm and soothe her, and he succeeds somewhat. Her breathing slows again and the fear no longer pours off her to such a heightened degree. His tongue gently traces her folds, moving between them as his fingers find her clitoris. He tries to avoid touching the bruises on her thighs, not wanting to cause her any further pain. His gentle ministrations are rewarded as he tastes the juices that now begin to flow from Willow’s body. He is winning, he knows, conquering her reluctance, and his own arousal grows as he tastes the remains of her virgin’s blood mixed with the juices flowing from inside her. He flicks his tongue over her clitoris as he moves his fingers between the lips of her sex and then inside her channel. Using his tongue and teeth, he stimulates the now swollen nub as he expertly works his fingers inside Willow, almost coming himself when she gasps her release, her body shaking and the nectar flowing from her body tasting even sweeter than blood.
Angel slides up the satisfied body of his love, kissing each curve and dimple of her flesh along his journey. The look in her eyes, shining as they are with the afterglow of her orgasm, is permission; positioning himself at her entrance, Angel fills her. And once again, he knows he is home.
The End