Feedback: Yes, please!
Distribution: If you want it, just ask and it's yours. Then and Now, the story that this is a sequel to, can be found at www.redssoulmates.com and at my site, www.geocities.com/kallierose01, and probably some other places that I've forgotten as well.
Rating: FRAO for smut.
Pairing: Willow/Angelus
Disclaimer: All is owned by the great Joss, I merely use the characters for my own sick purposes <g>.
Summary: This is sort of a sequel to Then and Now, although it could probably be read without reading the previous story. It simply takes place about 5 years in the future of that 'world.' And really, it's most a PWP.
Author's note: Thanks to Gabrielle for the beta.
Another note: This is for the wonderful Lisa Kelley on the occasion of her birthday. Thanks so much for being such a wonderful friend :-)
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“Absolutely not!” Angelus roars, his voice brooking no argument whatsoever.
I know he’s angry now, but he’ll get over it. He always does. He just needs time. And maybe a blowjob. That usually soothes the savage beast much better than music, at least in my experience.
“Angelus…” I try again, waiting for his reply. I know him well…he just needs to get this out of his system.
“No. I forbid it.” He paces the room angrily, throwing stormy glances at me every two or three steps.
I watch him from our bed, trying to hide the smile that wants to break free. “It’ll only be for a couple of days,” I tell him.
“I’ll drain him. If I see him, he’s dead.”
Sure, like I’d let that happen. Xander is my oldest and dearest friend. In fact, why hadn’t I thought of that before?
See, there was this little trick I pulled on Angelus a couple of years ago, where I spiked my blood with holy water. I should do that for Xander. The vamps would fight to get away from him, and that definitely tends to prolong your life span. I’ll wait until tomorrow morning, when Angelus is asleep, and cast the spell.
But in the meantime…
I sigh, and let the smile I was hiding break out. “And you think I’d let you do that, why?” The words are light and fluffy, but there is no mistaking the intent. I’m deadly serious.
He stops pacing and looks at me through narrowed eyes. If looks could kill…I know, it’s such a cliché. But really, anyone with any sense would see the look he’s giving me now and high-tail it out of the room.
I’ve never been sensible though, not when it comes to Angelus.
Let me backtrack a little bit.
We’ve been together for about five years now. Five wonderful, scary, crazy years. Sometimes I feel like I’m living on the edge of a knife, where any false step could send me spiraling to my death. At other times I’m flying high; high on joy and lust and love and all those other crazy things that make life worth living.
And the Xander thing? Well, that’s pretty much my fault. See, one night—about two years ago, I suppose—I was bored, and maybe feeling a little homesick. So I completely disregarded my own advice and emailed him. Just a little nothing email, kind of a, ‘hi, how are you?’ missive that I wasn’t even sure he would answer. After all, I’m the one who left with no explanation, and without ever looking back. I wouldn’t have been at all surprised if his return email had only contained two words, the second one being ‘off.’
But he surprised me. He emailed me back almost immediately, and it was like we had never been apart. Sure, there was some concern about the fact that I’m living with a soulless demon, but other than that, things were good.
We’ve been emailing ever since.
I don’t think he’s told the others. From what he doesn’t say, I suspect there was some bitterness when they got my letter. I don’t ask, and he doesn’t tell. I think it’s better that way.
Angelus knows, of course. We have no secrets. Or at least I don’t. I’m never completely sure about him. I trust him—just about as far as I can throw him. It makes our life together fun and interesting, but it can get kind of tiring too.
But I digress. I tend to do that.
The reason Angelus is so angry now is because Xander wants to come for a visit. I’m not sure whether it’s the visit itself that bothers him, or whether this is a poorly-concealed show of insecurity about my feelings for him. Guess it’s time to find out.
“It’s not like you have to be here,” I suggest. “You could…you could go find Spike.” I hate saying that, but the suggestion has a certain symmetry to it. I get to see one of my old friends, and so does he. Although friendship doesn’t adequately describe the relationship between Angelus and his childe.
He looks as if I’ve kicked him in the face. “You want to send me away?”
Oops. “No! No. I just…I know you miss him. Like I miss Xander. So maybe you might want to see him?”
“No sex,” he growls, grabbing my face and forcing me to look up at him.
I quickly nod my agreement. Hell, why would I even want to have sex with Xander? Okay, maybe a long time ago when we were kids, I would have done anything to make that happen. But that was a long, long time ago, and well before meeting Angelus.
“I’d rather gargle holy water,” I say solemnly. I wait for him to get the joke. Xander would have gotten the joke. Oh well, it doesn’t really matter.
“C’mere,” he commands, his eyes shining like topaz. I stand up, and he rushes me, pushing me into the wall face-first. His hands force mine above my head, pressing them into the wall with his own, and my heartbeat speeds up. I know what he’s doing, even if he isn’t sure himself. He’s marking me, claiming me, making sure we both remember who I belong to. And, conversely, who he belongs to as well.
And it’s going to be good. Really good. I’m already wet and trembling with eagerness, waiting to see what he does next.
He starts slow, pressing his body against mine, making sure I feel every inch of him, every muscle, everything. Especially *that* muscle, which is hard and ready, straining beneath his tight leather pants.
The pressure against my hands disappears for a moment as he takes off his pants, and then tackles mine as well. I no longer bother with underwear. We find it…inconvenient.
His hands return to mine, and he laces his fingers in between. He presses up against me again, rocking his hips back and forth, his cock brushing against me intimately.
He’s so hard in all the right places. As his skin slides sensually against mine, I wish I could turn and watch him, could see the look in his eyes at this moment. But he’s running this show, so I merely press back against him, moaning softly, because it feels So. Damn. Good.
I feel his chin on my shoulder, feel his teeth on my ear, and sigh as he begins to nibble on the lobe.
His right hand leaves mine, and I feel the light touch on my shoulder as he runs his hand over my body, his careful path taking him down the side of my rib cage, lingering for a moment on my hip, and then sliding over my abdomen and down between my legs.
Two fingers slide into me, and then another, pushing deep. I groan, loudly. The hotel is well insulated. No noise will escape this room, and he loves to hear me when he pleasures me, so I let my inhibitions go.
His fingers delve deeper, pushing me onto my toes. They stroke and soothe and caress me from the inside, and as they glide in and out of me, I feel like he’s trying to touch every inch of me.
Wetness seeps from me like a faucet, and I fancy that I can smell my arousal just as he can. At one time, all the palpable signs of my arousal would have embarrassed me, but I’m definitely not the same person I used to be. Most would probably think that was a bad thing. I tend to disagree.
I can feel the orgasm building, and as the tension in my body starts to increase, his fingers disappear, leaving me empty and uncomfortably on the edge. His hand circles my stomach, pulling me hard against him.
“Don’t you dare come yet,” he whispers fiercely. “Not until I’m inside you.”
Hearing his voice like that, so sexy and angry and commanding, is almost enough to make me come in spite of the lack of stimulation. I think he probably knows that, and does it to me on purpose. He likes punishing me. But then again, I like the way he punishes me, so I guess it all works out pretty well.
His cock is between my legs again, teasing me, rubbing against the lips of my cunt. He waits until the tension from my aborted orgasm has subsided a bit, and then uses his hand to guide himself inside of me. The feeling of his cock inside me, pushing its way into me, makes me shudder with delight, and another moan escapes my lips, this one longer and louder than the first. It ends on a gasp as he slams the rest of the way into me, both of his hands now holding my hips in a grasp that is both passionate and bruising. It hurts briefly, but then my thoughts are distracted by the feeling of his cock pounding into me, and his fingers sliding down to play with my clit.
His thrusts are quick, almost painful in their intensity, but it’s the right kind of pain, so I revel in it, as I feel myself start to build, once again, towards an orgasm.
I feel him tugging lightly on the skin of my neck, grasping a bit of it and rolling it between his teeth, occasionally biting down hard enough to draw small drops of blood. My breath is coming in pants now, as I try to keep up with him. He pushes me against the wall again, crushing me between it and his body, two immovable objects, and I feel as if I’m trapped.
Abandoning my neck for my ear, I hear his husky whisper. “I love you like this, so soft and pliable. I can do anything I want to you, and you just come back for more, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I pant, the word barely a whisper. My breath is a harsh, raspy thing, and my heart is beating so hard in my chest that I can barely spare the effort to speak. “Love this. Love you.” And I do. When he’s inside me, it’s the most incredible feeling in the world. Nothing else matters, not living, not dying, not breathing, not thinking; none of it.
“Ready, baby?” he asks, and although I can’t see him, I can feel his face changing at the place where it rests against my neck. This is his cue. He wants to bite me.
I’ve let him bite me before, but I always have to make sure to rid my blood of the taste of holy water. Nothing kills the moment like a lover who turns to dust from the inside out while he’s in the middle of sucking your blood.
Sometimes my life is really weird.
I close my eyes for a moment, mumbling words to a familiar spell. The change that takes place is palpable. It’s nothing that I can put a finger on, but my blood just feels…different. Cleaner, maybe.
“Ready,” I whisper, and wait for the sting of his fangs. He doesn’t disappoint.
They tear in, and my concentration falters slightly as the pain takes over. I can feel him deep inside me, both in my cunt and my neck, as he gives from one end and receives from the other.
His orgasm has him jerking into me, shooting his seed deep inside me. My body answers in kind, the walls of my cunt grasping and releasing his cock with their own rhythm.
In that moment I’m floating on air, a rush of joy exploding deep inside me in waves that reach every inch of my body. Oh, I can’t really describe it, but you know those orgasms, the really good ones that you just want to re-live over and over again? Well, it was one of those. One of the ones you remember for a long time.
My knees feel weak, and he senses it, pulling me against his hard chest as his cock slips out of me. “Ummm…good,” I mutter senselessly.
His fangs are still in me, but he’s not drinking much. Mostly he’s just savoring the connection, as I am. We walk over to the bed like that, an odd sort of shuffle that probably looks absolutely ridiculous. But nobody’s watching, so it doesn’t matter.
We’re lying spooned together on the four-poster bed when he finally releases my neck. His lips and tongue continue to work the wound, teasing extra droplets of blood from his marks. With each brush of his lips against my skin, small tremors, like passionate aftershocks, ripple through my body.
I wait until he drifts off to sleep before quickly saying the words to infuse my blood with holy water once again. I try to tell myself that it’s not just for him; that it’s a defense against all those other vampires out there. But the truth is, I don’t really trust him. Well, I trust him with some things. But not about blood things.
There will always be a fear lurking deep inside me that one night he’ll go too far. Take too much. Or maybe he’ll try to drain me while I sleep.
He craves control, and I know he hates the fact that I’m a random element in his life; a person with free will, who will make her own decisions. Maybe someday he’ll decide to wrest that control back, the only way he knows how. If that day comes, I’ll need to use all the weapons at my disposal to stay alive.
He whispers my name in his sleep, and there’s such a sound of need and gentle affection in his voice that I wonder if I’m underestimating him. Maybe he *is* capable of loving me without controlling me.
His body shifts in slumber, his hand coming to rest against my breast, cupping the flesh there and pulling me flush against his chest. I snuggle back against him, deciding that the future will have to take care of itself, as I relax and fall quickly into sleep.
The End