Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: While I have taken the liberty of adding a few characters of my own creation, all of the original BtVS characters and their world belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and The WB. All are used without permission (I'll return them all unharmed) and no copyright infringement is intended (like most who post, I'm broke, so please don't sue).
Spoilers: All 3 seasons of BtVS. Summary: It's the year 2047 and Aishling Rosenberg has recently discovered that her grandmother left behind a vast collection of letters, stories, research notes, etc.
Distribution: You want it, it's yours, just let me know where it's going to be living.
Feedback: A well nourished writer is a prolific writer, so if you want more, feed me.
Dedication: To Tere, whose wonderful feedback inspires me to write more, better, faster. This is my first attempt at a truly naughty piece. I only hope it's worthy of the goddess' praise!
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Archivist's Note: It seems that Grandma Willow had a real penchant for pretty notebooks and binders. She would use them to either write out her notes or between the pages she would slip diskettes, CDs, pictures, any and all sorts collected data. The previous two entries had been stored on disks. This one was especially personal and had been carefully written out in long hand in a notebook all its own. She had only written upon every other pair of facing pages. Between the blank pages she had pressed dozens of night blooming flowers . . . Aishling ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Angel and I stood in the small courtyard garden of his home on Crawford Street. The rain beat down upon us and in a matter of moments we were both soaked to the skin. Of course, he had more skin exposed than I did, standing as he was in nothing more than a pair of pants.
Still, the little silk dress I wore offered almost no protection from the driving rain. I chanced to glance down at it and saw that despite its dark color, the dress had become quite revealing. The wet fabric clung to me like a second skin. My nipples, which stood out shamelessly, were clearly visible. I could see the curve of my belly and the sharp angles of my hips. Down upon my thighs, I could even make out the little clasps of the garter belt which held up my stockings.
I looked back up at Angel and saw that his eyes were following the same path that mine had just traveled. Only his eyes moved much more slowly than mine did. When the tip of his tongue darted out to moisten his lips, my shoes, which I'd held on to for quite some time, fell and clattered on the ground. I became uncomfortable under the weight of his stare and began to shift nervously from side to side. This only made matters worse as I felt the wet material slide between my thighs. Even without looking back down, I was quite sure it now clearly defined my sex.
When Angel finally brought his gaze back up to meet mine, I saw only one thing in his eyes.
Hunger.
And all I wanted to do at that moment was feed him.
He was still crying, unabashedly. His tears had turned bloody. They mixed with the rain and ran in scarlet streams, flowing off of his face and down his neck and chest. One of his hands came up, and after a moments hesitation, he reached out and began to caress my cheek.
"Willow?" Angel whispered my name in the form of a question, as though he wasn't certain it was really me standing before him.
I boldly took a step forward, closing some of the gap which lay between us. I reached up and gently pulled Angel's hand away from my face. I saw that his fingertips were black. And I couldn't keep from chuckling. What a pair we made. Angel, his face stained with blood. Me, with my cheeks obviously covered with mascara that was running in the rain. With my free hand I attempted to wipe away at least some of the ruined makeup.
"Don't," Angel whispered hoarsely. "You're beautifu-a-a-a-h-h!"
His word just sort of shattered when I quickly brought his fingers to my lips and drew one into my mouth, sucking on it greedily. Now it was Angel who took a small step forward, causing the space which separated us to become smaller still. I twirled my tongue around the tip of his finger before I released it. But I didn't release Angel's hand. I took his hand and moved it down, placing it upon one of my breasts. Then I let it go.
I was pleased when Angel didn't instantly pull his hand away. For the longest time he held it motionless, his age and his experience serving him well, for I know his lust was waging quite a war with his conscience. I could see it in his eyes, which never left mine. But, I could also feel the cool flesh of his palm pressing against my already erect nipple and I was praying to the goddess that he wouldn't leave his hand just laying there much longer. Or worse yet, would be for him to take his hand away without ever having really touched me, touched me of his own accord.
What was it I said to myself earlier? Ah, yes, in for a penny, in for a pound.
I took another small step forward. The space between us was almost non-existent now. Taking a deep breath, I arched myself further into his hand.
"Oh, Willow!" His soft cry held so much longing, so much indecision.
And I could understand his emotions all too well. What I was doing, what I was proposing was wrong. Buffy. Oz. The curse. What I wanted with this man wasn't right.
And yet I couldn't help myself. Over the past three months, something inside me had been building up to this and while the timing was all wrong, the timing is always all wrong on the Hellmouth, there was nothing I could do to stop the upcoming chain of events.
It's too soon, something inside me cried. And I could not deny that. He should not have been here now. There should have been more time, more distance between us. Time to heal, time to grow and to change, time to let go of the recent past and to rediscover a much more distant past, a past that we somehow shared, a past that I feared would effect our future.
But waiting was out of the question now. Angel was here and there could be no more waiting. Now, there was only wanting.
And I could still see the desire in his eyes, however mixed-up it was with confusion, and pain, and denial.
He was still crying and I felt his tears, colder than the rain, as he bent in and pressed the side of his face to the side of my own. He was shaking, all over. I could feel it through his cheek and his hand on my breast. A demon stood quivering before me.
"What are we doing Willow?"
His words, whispered in my ear, sent a shiver up my own spine and he pulled back quickly, fear foremost in his eyes once again.
"This is wrong," he croaked, his convoluted emotions threatening to take away his voice.
But even as Angel said the words his hand finally began to move on my breast. His fingers went down along the side of it, following the curve, while his thumb moved out and slid across my nipple, back and forth, lightly teasing just the tip.
I laid my hand upon his chest, right above the area I knew covered his heart. Buffy was right. It doesn't beat, but you can still feel it. This demon had more heart than most of the humans I know.
And I discovered that an earlier comparison I'd made was quite accurate. Angel's skin was like silk. It moved with a graceful fluidity as it was shifted by the musculature beneath it. It was smooth and firm, tender but not soft. And it was cool, perhaps made cooler by the rain, but the area under my hand had begun to warm.
Part of me would have been very content just to stay there like that, connected to him in a relatively innocent manner. But then there was that part of me that longed to explore him, to discover what other parts of his body I could warm with my hand, or my mouth.
My other hand came up to join the first and together they moved across the broad expanse of Angel's chest, up along his shoulders then his neck. I had to stand on my tip-toes in order to slide my fingers up along the back of his head and into his hair. But then I used my purchase there to tip his head down toward mine so that I could place a kiss upon his lips. Ah, here was a part of him that was soft. His lips. Soft and cool and pressed firmly upon my own.
His hand left my breast as it slid around to my back. Angel's other hand came up and he began to blindly search for the pins which held up my hair, pulling at them when they were found. Once my hair was free, he tangled his fingers in it then used both of his hands to pull me up against his body. There was no space left between us.
When the tip of his tongue touched my lips, I parted them eagerly, inviting him in.
And then, as his tongue played with mine, as he explored my mouth, sliding along my teeth, caressing the roof of my mouth, I thought for sure that I would die at any moment, my heart bursting with joy.
It was the taste of him! His flavor was sweeter and richer than even the best chocolate I'd ever had the pleasure to consume. He just seemed to melt in my mouth, his cold tongue becoming hot and almost liquid as he continued to kiss me. I couldn't seem to get enough of him and soon had my tongue deep in his mouth, touching and tasting. I was trying to devour him.
I was suddenly overcome by the knowledge that I had tasted this flavor before, that I craved it constantly, that my inability to fulfill that longing is what had led to my obsessive love of chocolate.
I wanted to taste him everywhere, to see what other long forgotten flavors I could re-discover.
I broke the kiss abruptly and pulled back. Angel was at first startled, but once he caught the look in my eyes and felt my hands begin to move downward again, he seemed to understand what I was after. He stood up straight, putting a little move space between our upper bodies. But his hands slipped down and came to rest on my behind. This he pulled in toward himself, causing our lower bodies to connect in a way they had not when we were kissing.
I could feel his erection, long and hard, pressing into me, the tip of it digging into my belly, just below the naval, while the base of it was grinding into my mound. I loved the feel of it and longed to feel it from the inside out.
Another wave of memories hit me and I could remember the sensation of both of us placing our hands on my belly so that we could feel him moving inside me.
That was one sensation that I would experience only in my memory, for I knew, no matter what else happened between us, no matter how intimate we became that night, that act, the actual consummation of our strange love for each other, would not, could not occur.
I had been right about the sounds I could elicit from him. As I slid my fingers down his chest, I used my nails to scratch at him, scrapping even harder as I passed over his nipples. That's when he made the most sensual noise. It was a cross between a growl and a purr and it came from deep in the back of his throat. I dragged my nails across his nipples again, pressing even deeper this time, and I could actually feel his chest vibrate as he emitted that rumbling sound once more.
I was so aroused that I could feel my juices, hot and slick, mixing with the rain that had saturated my clothes, and then running down my inner thighs. I couldn't help but wonder if Angel, with his acute sense of smell, had picked up on the scent of my arousal.
I didn't have to wonder for long as I felt him start to lift the hem of my dress. He pulled one of my legs up and wrapped it around his thigh, putting gentle pressure on it, an unspoken command to 'stay'. Then his hand slid up my thigh and back around the curve of my ass. He has got the most exquisite hands, large and strong with elegant fingers. I loved the feel of them running up my stocking clad thigh and over the bare little patches of flesh that my panties didn't cover. I shuddered as a long, cool finger snaked its way inside my panties. Then, with one quick, smooth movement he slid it forward and buried it deep within me, and all I could do was whimper helplessly.
The sensation of that cold digit pressed so far up into my heat was overwhelming. I started to cry because it felt so right and yet so wrong at the same time. The fit of his finger was perfect and he seemed to remember just where to touch me as he curled his finger and began to stroke my inner wall. And yet, his finger was cold, and that was wrong, that was not a part of my memories. Still, in the here and now, I had no choice but to give into my rising desire, my growing need for release, and I ground myself harder into his erection.
This time the sound that came from him was different. It was even more bestial and came from somewhere deep inside him. I looked up and for just an instant I saw his eyes take on a golden glow before he shut them tight. It was the first time he'd closed himself off from me and for a moment I feared it would all end, that he would withdraw completely and I would be left wanting more than he was capable of giving me. Yet he'd made no attempts to pull his finger out of me. In fact, Angel moved his other hand up into the small of my back. He started making little circles with it while at the same time pressing me even tighter against his stone hard sex, offering my clit some of the stimulation it was begging for.
When he finally opened his eyes again, they had returned to the dark color which usually accompanied the facade he was obviously struggling to maintain.
"You don't have to wear the mask for me," I offered gently. "I know what you are."
Angel's eyes flared with that inhuman light once again, and I could see just how my words had torn him. I had just given him a small taste of the acceptance he craved so deeply. Still, he wasn't yet ready to abandon the ruse, especially not in the middle of an encounter such as we were having. I can't say I blame him. We were not really friends, certainly not lovers. In many ways, we were strangers.
His decision made, the glow once again left his eyes. There was pain there now, not caused by my words, but by his own sadness and regret over his inability to put aside his burning desire for the humanity he no longer possessed.
Angel was either unable to find words to adequately express what he felt, or he chose not to speak them aloud, for he simply shook his head "no".
I accepted his decision in silence.
I leaned forward and began to place small, soft kisses on his chest, trying to soothe both his nerves and the red welts my nails had left behind. When he made no move to stop me or to pull away, I let my hands slip lower and I started to caress him abdomen. I loved the way the muscles rippled under my touch. I relished in the feel of Angel tensing, anticipating the continued downward slide of my hands.
And who was I to disappoint him?
Our pelvises were pressed so tightly together that I practically had to force my hand down between us. But I was rewarded for my efforts with guttural groan as my fingers, followed by my palm, slid over the tip of his cock and started to press further and harder down the length of him.
My mouth didn't leave his chest. I had begun taking little nips here and there, tugging, none too gently, with the blunt edges of my teeth, sucking harshly on the flesh I caught, drawing his borrowed blood to the surface so that its deep crimson color marred his otherwise pristine white skin. Once I released my little strangle hold, I would then lavish attention upon the tiny wounds I created, laving them with my tongue, kissing them tenderly.
All the while, Angel's finger continued to slide inside of me. His finger had warmed while buried in my core, but his pace was too slow, his touch maddeningly gentle.
"Oh, Angel, please," I managed to whine, trying to express my need before I went back to work on his chest.
The taste of his skin was also driving me wild. The flesh itself may have been cool but its flavor was warm and buttery, with a nutty sort of aftertaste. I could also taste the rain and the tiny bits of earth that still clung to him. And there was something else, something I couldn't quite put my finger on.
Without warning, Angel dipped his knees slightly, the action causing our lower bodies to separate and his finger slipped out of my. I whimpered pathetically and I felt, rather than heard Angel's chuckle deep in his chest. I didn't at first notice that the movement also caused my leg to ride further up his side. It rested now atop his hip and left me open wider. As he straighten his legs, he hauled me up with him. He widened his stance slightly and the hand he kept on my back moved up between my shoulder blades.
Angel tipped me back slightly, and while I feared for a moment that we might topple over, my new position and weight obviously did nothing to upset the vampire holding me so tenderly in his arms.
He struck with such speed that I felt him capture one of my nipples in his mouth before my brain even registered his movement. He suckled that captive right through the silk of my dress while he carefully pushed aside the fabric covering my other breast. Once that nipple was exposed, he moved his mouth over to it, and began to nip and tug at it, just as I done to his flesh earlier, only he wasn’t nearly as harsh I had been.
I continued to stroke him through the wet fabric of his pants. I wanted to release him so badly, to feel for myself the satiny smooth skin of his erection. I knew it would be rock hard in my hand, and cold, like marble. But it would warm quickly under my careful ministrations. I wanted to tease the tip, and to drive him mad as I stroked the ridge just behind the head.
I may still have been a fledgling when it came to the art of lovemaking, but I was an eager learner and I'd had good teacher. Oz was gentle and considerate. He was also very patient and open to experimentation. I'm not sure if it's a side effect of his lycanthropy, or simply an Oz trait, but he's very comfortable with his own sexuality. He had no false modesty when it came to my explorations of his body and he never hesitated to show my just where or how to touch him, to tell me what pleased him the most. And now I wanted to try out on Angel all the tricks I'd learned.
My fingers moved back up to the waist of Angel's pants, and I began to struggle with the button there. Angel's mouth on my breast was distracting, to say the least. Our positions and the wet fabric didn't help much, either.
When I felt Angel's fingers move across the top of my hand, I thought he was going to stay my actions. Instead, his hand went beneath mine and he deftly undid his own button and fly. He then took a hold of my hand and thrust it down inside his pants. I think we moaned in an erotic two- part harmony as my fingers curled around his shaft and I started my first downward stroke.
Angel released the nipple he had been torturing and slid his lips across the top curve of my breast. There was a slight pain left in their wake, a sharp sting, like a paper cut leaves. The broad velvet surface of Angel's tongue quickly retraced the path of his lips and I felt his erection expand and twitch in my hand. That's when I knew that he'd used his fangs to cut me. I glanced down and saw that the wound itself really wasn't much worse than the paper cut I'd compared it to, only it was slightly deeper and the highly vascular tissue of my breast produced a copious amount of blood for such a small wound. Angel continued to lap at it with a greedy abandon.
I was thrilled that he would indulge himself this way. I knew he had never allowed himself to do this with Buffy. So, he hadn't been able to drop his human visage, but he had at least found the courage to partake of this simple pleasure.
But then his head suddenly shot up and he looked deep into my eyes, as though searching for something. He slowly licked the blood from his lips, and I could see his tongue sliding along the roof of his mouth, dragging the blood and its flavor along the entire length of his tongue. I was familiar with the action. It was the same one I used when I wanted to savor the flavor of an especially good, dark chocolate, a piece of Godiva, perhaps. Angel stared at me for a moment more. He couldn't seem to find what he was looking for, so he spoke to me in a hushed voice, a voice thick with blood and lust, but tinged with fear.
"I know you," he whispered.
"Of, course you do, " I replied. "I'm Willow."
"But I've tasted this blood before and it wasn't yours."
He looked so confused. I felt terrible but there was nothing I could say.
"Who were we?" he pleaded.
Now
it was my turn to just shake my head, for I truly didn't know.
Angel bent his head back down to my chest. The cut had already begun to close, only a few beads of fresh blood sat on the surface. He gently cleansed those away with just the tip of his tongue.
I silently offered him my other breast, but using nothing more than his eyes to reply, he graciously declined.
Angel then pulled my back up, closer to his chest, and placed a soft kiss on my lips. My tongue darted out quickly, surprising him. But I had wanted to see if I could catch the taste of my blood on his lips. And I did, just a trace. That's when I figured out what the other flavor on his chest had been. It was Angel's blood. The blood from his tears that had mixed with the rain and run down his body.
He hissed sharply as I darted in and took one of his pert nipples between my lips. I suckled his just as hungrily as he had pulled upon mine. I stroked his cock in time with my sucking and I cast my eyes upward just long enough to take in the rapturous beauty of Angel's face as he gave himself over to the sensations I was creating. I released the first nipple and turned my head toward the second.
"Come for me, Angel." I pushed the words out on a soft, warm breath which hit the puckering tip before I took it gently between my teeth. I nipped it lightly, then twirled my tongue about it, soothing it and teasing it at the same time.
"Not without you," he cried as he tore away my panties and sank his fingers, two this time, back into my weeping hole. Now he was attacking me from the front and using his thumb to rub my clitoris.
We were stroking each other at a nearly frenzied pace, up and down, in and out. I slipped my second hand down into his pants, moving it lower than the first so that I could message his balls. I used the same firm but tender pressure that Oz had taught me.
"Harder, Willow, squeeze them harder," he barked at me.
The harsh sound of Angel's voice, combined with the delicious pressure of his thumb on my clit and the deep thrusting of his fingers, was nearly my undoing. I felt my inner walls clamping down on his fingers and I had to fight hard to keep from tipping over into my orgasm without Angel.
I complied with Angel's request and began applying a less than delicate touch to his heavy sack. I could feel it tighten in my hand and I knew he was approaching his own climax. I slid my other hand up to the top of his pole and concentrated my strokes, now very short and firm, on the rim just beneath the head.
"Oh, God, *yes*, " he hissed as his cock throbbed.
I watched in awe as Angel's face began to shift until he pushed back the change and held fast to his disguise. But it was enough for me and I let myself fall, screaming silently as I drowned in the most intense orgasm I'd ever had.
Angel had not yet found his release, but I was determined to help him reach it soon. I moved my mouth back over to the first nipple I had captured. I was lapping at it rapaciously when my tongue ran across one of the little rivulets of rain and tears. The small amount of Angel's blood that was present there was enough to fill my mouth with that unique coppery tingle. It didn't seem odd, or unpleasant. It made me want to bite, bite hard. And that's what I did, clamping my teeth down around his nipple with such force that I actually broke the skin.
Angel threw his head back, bared his teeth and howled, the cry, a mixture of pain and pleasure, torn from his throat.
I felt his cock swell and then begin to pulse. I looked down just in time to see the first pale pink ribbon of ejaculate shoot forth and hit his belly. Each subsequent emission fall upon my hand which continued to stroke him through his climax.
The sight of him coming in my hand, combined with the rich, mineral taste of his blood in my mouth, was enough to make me come again, and I heard Angel moan softly as my walls clenched tight and then started to spasm once more around his fingers .
We brought each other down gently, before allowing our bodies to part.
I had no idea how long we'd been out there in the garden. The rain was still pouring down. That same dark song must have replayed at least twenty times.
And what a sight we made now, our sopping wet clothes in disarray, our bodies covered with bite marks, blood, and other bodily fluids. But the driving rain was quickly washing away the tell-tale signs of our encounter. The small laceration Angel placed on my breast was easily concealed when I rearranged my dress. The nasty love bites I given him were quickly fading. The only mark which seemed slow to heal was the vicious bite I'd inflicted on Angel's chest. It still oozed blood and looked painful.
I wanted to apologize, but before I could find the words, Angel turned and walked toward the house. He didn't stop until he reached the door and stood just inside the entrance to the great room. Even then he didn't turn back, he simply extended his arm back toward me, his hand open, palm up in a very beseeching manor.
"Please, Willow," he whispered. "Come in out of the rain."
End
Entry Twenty