E-Mail: mbumbarger@neo.rr.com
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel & Co. belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN and the WB Network. Also, the concept and premise of Immortality as featured in the story is not mine, but the property of Panzer/Davis, Rysher Entertainment, and Gaumont Television. No copyright infringement intended.
Summary: Willow's an Immortal (accept and move on) and she does a little stress-releif therapy after a particularly grueling day. Or, Is the Quickening *really* an aphrodesiac?
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The Quickening always left her - wanting.
Willow Rosenberg laughed at the sound of that, pulling herself slowly to her feet as the last ripples of energy danced and flickered across her small frame. Blue electricity danced down the blade of her sword, slinking across the ground and vanishing into the dark night. As it fled, the world returned to sharp and clear focus - more sharp and clear than it had been for quite some time. It was an effect of the Quickening, the fact that she was endlessly aware of everything around her on a level that she could never communicate to anyone who had not shared that awareness. The air smelled heavier - thick with the smell of the city - bodies and people, perfume and the faint tang of the blood that covered her clothing and the severed body that lay a few feet away. Her vision was sharper, the stars looked like brilliant flames of white light blinking down on her, on this rooftop. Every nerve tingled - and she did mean every nerve - and she felt the roughness of the roof even beneath the soles of her boots as she scampered away from the scene of the duel.
The guilt and remorse would come later, she knew. Later, when the tingling high and roiling emotions churned forth by the Quickening wore off she would analyze and re-analyze her fate and her life. Willow would try to find answers where she knew there were none. She would wonder what she could have done differently to avoid this last kill - this one a man she had never seen nor heard of before. But that would be later. In the meantime she had to answer the call of her body, she had to find a release for the hunger and need the Quickening left inside of her.
Once, when she had been younger and more naïve - and there too was a thought that brought a wry smile to her face - it hadn't been that long ago a year, maybe less - she had not been able to identify this crazy feeling that swelled and grew inside of her. She had accounted it to adrenaline and nervous energy and she had dispersed it with exercise, by running through the streets or spending a few hours in front of a punching bag. She would meditate, or do yoga - never fully comprehending the true release that her body sought.
These days she knew exactly what she yearned for, what she hungered for, but more often than not she still found herself submerged in a cold shower or spending long hours meditating . . .or helping herself. It was easier that way; easier to return to her apartment or hotel room and find her own pleasure at her own hands than trying the one night stand bit. She may have grown somewhat since become Immortal, but sex with a perfect stranger still made her grow warm in the face and blush and stammer like the eighteen-year-old sweetheart she appeared to be on the outside.
Willow reached the ground quietly and quickly, the roaring of sirens sounding even louder and closer to her heightened awareness. With a shrug, she turned away from the scene of the duel and began skipping down the darkened alley. Again, her calm in the face of possible - actually impossible -- discovery only showed how much she had changed. It showed how much she now accepted with ease. Willow knew that she would get away before the police arrived; she knew that this body, like so many others would be listed as a 'gangland' killing and the case would be closed. This was her world now.
She had long ago accepted it.
The young Immortal felt him as her feet carried her through another alley, this one connecting to the brightly lit streets of Los Angeles. Once on the sidewalk, she would lose herself in the flow and ebb of the LA nightlife, one more young girl lost in a city of millions. With an exasperated sigh, she drew to a stop, and rolled her eyes in irritation.
This was so not what she needed tonight. Dispatching a vampire wouldn't be hard; they died by decapitation as easily as did Immortals. And they were even courteous enough to disintegrate into little piles of dust thereby leaving no evidence of their deaths. However, after her duel, she didn't want to fight a vampire - another battle would simply leave her with an adrenaline rush on top of the hormonal high that was already threatening to swallow and drown her.
"I know you're there," Willow announced, her hand straying inside of her coat. As she spun, she pulled out her katana, her green eyes darting into the shadows. "So, why don't you just come out, we can get this over with and I can go home. Because I really do not feel like take-out."
"You don't look much like it either." He stepped out of the shadows, his unearthliness fully detectable to her eyes. Skin like polished porcelain, pure and white, a god carved from stone. Dark hair brushed against his pale face and dark eyes swallowed her in their preternatural intensity. His mouth, perfect and sensual, quirked in a small smile as he gazed down at her hands resting comfortably in the pockets of his long, dark coat.
Gods above he was so infinitely beautiful it made her breath catch simply looking at him.
So divinely inspired, a true fallen Angel and so far beyond her reach that it was crazy for her to even give a moment's pause to some of the libidinous thoughts filling her brain.
Relaxing, she returned the katana to its scabbard within her coat, "Following me?"
"I saw the fireworks," he explained with a simple shrug, "I worry."
But he worried for all the wrong reasons. He worried for little Willow, Buffy's shy little best friend. He worried for the computer hacker who couldn't even think about sex without turning beet red and stumbling over her words. He worried - because like everyone else it seemed impossible for him to get it through his two hundred and forty something year old brain that she could take care of herself.
Still, Willow couldn't find enough of a reason to be angry with him. The sentiment was endearing - and that was why they were still friends. Besides, it was hard to feel any negative feelings for very long at all in the wake of the power unleashed by the Quickening. Positive feelings were another matter entirely - those swarmed her and she found herself studying him interestedly for a long moment, wondering precisely how his body would feel pressed against hers, his arms wrapped around her.
"Gotta boogie, Angel," Willow immediately pushed the wayward thoughts aside. She felt young Willow resurfacing, blushing that she would even entertain those thoughts about Angel - the Slayer's on-again off-again romantic entanglement. She turned on her heel, intending to flee into the masses beyond.
Angel was faster. His hand wrapped around her wrist, halting her. The touch sent a ripple up her arm, charging her entire body and Willow hoped he didn't feel the very real shudder that ran through her body from her head to her toes. "Wait, Willow. Where's the fire?"
Right here, inside of me. She didn't say the words aloud but she nearly bit her lip off in an effort not to. "No fire. I just like to get as far from my murder scenes as possible. Avoids unnecessary complications." She made the joke lightly; it wasn't easy to do - making jokes about Immortality was still a foray better left to the likes of Richie.
Angel nodded, seemingly to understand that. He didn't release her wrist however, drawing her back into the shadows of the alley. "Where are you staying?" Again, he was all concern, all knight in shining armor.
"Hotel."
"What hotel?"
"A close one." Willow blinked innocently, flashing him what she hoped was her most child-like smile. It would be a very, very bad thing to tell him that she had just arrived in LA, that she hadn't even found a hotel before she was challenged. That would lead to Angel being all chilvarous, and as she stared into those soul-stealing eyes, she was pretty certain that being alone with him would rank pretty high up there on the list of bad things to do after a Quickening.
As much as her mind might be toying with the idea.
"You're a terrible liar, Willow. You always have been." Angel shook his head with a smile. "I found your bike and your bag. All your stuff is at my place."
She continued to blink at him. This time in surprise. He was getting to be far too good at this cloak and dagger stuff. "So, you were following me?"
"Looking for you," Angel admitted. "Giles said that you might be headed this way after leaving Sunnydale."
"Is nothing sacred?" Willow asked in mock exasperation. Again, it was hard to coax forth anger and annoyance - it was a good feeling to know that her friends still cared about her and accepted her status as an Immortal.
"Come on," Angel gave a gentle tug on her arm, pulling her towards him.
The tug came unexpectedly and she lost her footing, stumbling until she bumped into him. Her stumble sent him backwards, only the wall behind him stopping the vampire from landing on his posterior. The simple touch of his body against hers, even through their layers of clothing, sent her body into overload and she couldn't stifle the slight moan that escaped from her lips. Or the way her body moved with a will of its own, pressing closer, her hands splayed against her chest.
"Sorry," Willow apologized breathily, although she made no move to place any distance between their bodies.
"That's okay. No harm done." Did Angel sound a touch distracted as well or was that simply her imagination? His hands held her by the waist and he stared down at her, his face completely unreadable. "I haven't had a woman throw herself at me for a while."
Willow felt her smile turn into laughter, and she stared up at him in disbelief. "Angel, you made a funny."
"I do that sometimes. When I'm bored."
"And. . .are you bored now?" She meant the words to sound playful and teasing, but instead she heard the soft purr to her words, felt her traitorous body shift against his, her pelvis pressing against his thigh.
Whether it was simply instinctive or a genuine desire for her, Willow didn't know. But as she moved against him, she felt a very normal physiological response from him, felt his hands tighten around her waist. His voice, though confused, was hoarse. "Willow?"
"I'm not exactly myself right now, Angel," she offered him the truth. Her eyes searched his face, taking in the perfection of the angles and curves, lingering longest on his lips. Hands crawled up his chest, locking around his neck and she wiggled her pelvis against his thigh again.
"I can see that." His words were no louder than a whisper now and as she moved, she felt him tremble against her. That response gave her a power and boldness and she moved yet again, this time raising her mouth to place a gentle kiss at the base of his throat. He trembled again, instinctively crushing her body to his. Again the question came, "Willow?"
"It's the Quickening," she explained, raising her head to meet his confused - and somewhat anguished eyes. "It makes me want - make love to me, Angel." Later she would wonder where her boldness came from, later she would wonder what insanity possessed her to make that request of the vampire, but at that particular moment, she didn't particularly care. Her body was screaming its need for release and he was there - and damned if he wasn't responding to her the same way she was to him.
She waited for the rejection, for the reality of her words to sink in. She waited for him to push her away and retake control of a very badly deteriorating situation. She waited.
But none of that happened.
Instead, with a wry smile, the vampire took her hand and began pulling her along the city streets behind him as fast her legs could carry her. They didn't stop running until they were inside of his apartment, until he pressed her up against the closed door, his very solid, very male body ground tightly against hers. The eyes that gazed at her now did not belong to her friend from high school. No, these were the eyes of a man starved and hungry, a man about to taste the fruit which was forbidden to him. These eyes were dark and heavy with a desire that made her body quake and shiver.
"Are you sure about this Willow?" Angel's mouth hovered only centimeters from hers and the feeling of the surprisingly cool breath on her face released another round of sensations that her body was unprepared for.
"Yes," she hissed. Hands locked around his neck, drawing him down. Her mouth captured his greedily, hungrily - needing this, needing him. She drank his kiss like a fine wine of which she could never get enough, her tongue slowly finding its way between his lips and teeth. Tongues touched and danced, each plundering the unexplored depths of the other's mouth taking and claiming all that they wanted. Angel's hands held her steady against the onslaught of his mouth, his hands stroking her arms as her fingers twisted into the silkiness of his hair.
Gods, how often had she imagined this? Running her fingers through the dark locks, feeling his lips against hers, his brand upon her body? And now nothing stood between them or their inflamed lust. Unexpectedly, she heard a soft animal keening rise from the room and she realized that it came from her throat. Willow's body arched into him, her fingers clawing at the material of his shirt.
He understood her need because her needs were his needs. Hands that were cool but not unbearably cold, ripped at her blouse not bothering with the tiny buttons. In a moment, she was free of that piece of clothing, nothing separating them but her lacy bra and the shirt he still wore. And even that came away quickly as Willow's fingers unworked the buttons - or ripped off the ones that she lost patience with. The aching need to feel the other's skin drove them with a frenzy - she didn't even care that Angel yanked the bra, breaking the elastic - she groaned into him as her bare hot flesh came into contact with his own coolness.
That accomplished, Angel's kiss fell to her neck and her shoulders. She felt his fangs, sharp, brush against the tender skin of her neck and rather than terrify her it only heightened her arousal. Permission given by the low moans coming from her throat, by the way she pressed his face into her neck, the fangs broke skin, drawing the tiniest taste of blood from her and the keening that produced Willow didn't think could have been attributed to a human being.
Still, the vampire did not stop his ceaseless assault on her body. Dropping to his knees, his hands gathered her breasts, her body tingling, trembling at that touch. Tongue brushed one nipple, then the other, causing them to engorge painfully at that arousal and Willow gasped loudly. Mouth wrapped around one nipple, his tongue flicked rapidly back and forth while his thumb encircled the other, the rising heat and ache between her legs nearly making her mad with desire. The door behind her was her only support as she thrust herself forward, forcing him to take her breast as fully into his mouth as possible.
He was skilled. Whatever hell and havoc he may have wrought over two hundred years, Angel had a skill and a talent. While his mouth continued to alternately suckle each breast, his hands unbuckled her dark jeans, sliding them down, complete with her panties, and helping her to step out of them. Then his mouth began to trail lower, following the valley between her breasts, in a direct line to her navel. His tongue halted there, swirling around her navel teasingly and Willow gave a delighted moan. She could already feel her eagerness growing; the heat between her legs burned her and she quivered with anticipation.
Angel's hands moved slowly up her legs and thighs while he distracted her with his playful kisses and touches to her navel. But that distraction could only last for so long; she felt his fingers slide between her thighs, his hand lightly brushing her sex. That touch made her whimper and bear down, begging him to touch her again, to touch her completely. Again, he brushed her lightly and again before sliding his fingers fully between her spread thighs, cool fingers finding her hot and desperate wetness. One finger slipped between her moist folds, thrusting gently and it was all that Willow could do to remain standing.
The smile that Angel gave her as he gazed up at her was one of pure triumph. He held her by her waist, his finger slowly continuing to work its way in and out of her, coaxing her to the point of no return. He buried his face in her abdomen, nuzzling the soft hair there as he continued to stroke her, using first one, then two, then three fingers to make love to her as she stood there trembling against him. Over and over, the slow movements making her whimper and beg as she moved against him, trying to bring herself to the point of release that her body so strongly desired.
She nearly lost her footing when the hand withdrew and she cried out in protest. Willow felt Angel's soft chuckle against her stomach and trembled with the spattering of butterfly kisses that he sprinkled there. His mouth worked its way upwards now, his hands following in the wake of those kisses, leaving no part of her untouched and unexplored. Lips and teeth captured her breasts, fangs daring to draw just the smallest drops of blood to be licked away before his mouth found hers again. Strong hands cupped her buttocks, lifting her and she wrapped her arms around his waist. The moved like that, towards the couch where he disengaged himself focusing his attention on her neck and shoulders and breasts.
"Damn you," Willow hissed, squirming as his hand wound its way between her legs, but only teased her.
"I already am," Angel reminded her, tongue working its way down her abdomen again. He reclined her gently on the sofa, pulling her ankles around until her legs dangled off the edge of the couch. Placing a gentle kiss on the soft triangle of red hair his body slid between her legs. Staring down at him her body nearly convulsed in pleasure as she realized his intentions. A thumb touched her and she whimpered; his finger encircled her clit and she exploded with sensation, a fresh warmth and heat flooding her.
"Like a flower," Angel whispered, kissing inside of her thigh.
"Please," Willow begged. Her hands brushed his hair and she wiggled her hips in an effort to bring his mouth closer to the part of her that ached so painfully. "Please, Angel."
Evidently deciding that she had enough torment, Willow watched his dark head descend. Even though she braced herself, a breathless bundle of nerves waiting for this moment she still gave a half-moan, half-sigh as she felt his tongue flick softly against the soft folds below.
Her legs spread wide, encouraging him, her hips moving forward to draw him closer. The tongue brushed again, and then with a deftness and determination, plunged into her. Again and again, deeper and deeper he plunged his most intimate kiss, driving into her with practiced, well planned strokes meant to push her to the very edge. She squirmed, lifting her hips higher, one leg wrapped over his shoulder, and he gripped her hips guiding her in rhythm with the motions of his mouth. Again, she felt the sharpness of his fangs, but she was too far gone to begin to care, her hands buried in the silky darkness of his hair, holding his mouth to her as though to allow him to stop would be to allow her to die. Over and over, the strokes coming faster and faster, until she felt herself trembling from the inside, until she begged for release and then the bite came, the tiniest touch piercing the heart of her but it was enough to push her. She felt the violent crest and fall within and she cried out her release, calling his name repeatedly.
How long it lasted, Willow didn't know. She came back slowly to herself, gaining the slow awareness of soft kisses being sprinkled across her torso and neck. She trembled in the aftermath of that release, her hands shaking as she stroked his hair, his back and attempted to draw him closer.
"You now," Willow whispered when he at last raised his head and allowed his gaze to meet hers. She propped herself up weakly on her elbows, licking her lips, her voice breathless. "I want you inside of me, Angel."
The vampire divested himself of the last of his clothes quickly and Willow smiled in appreciation at the body before her. He truly did rival a Michangelo sculpture - perfect poise and beauty, his skin a flawless white. He was just as beautiful as she had always imagined he would be.
He came to her, taking her in one swift motion that caused them both to groan and gasp in completion. He was cold - cold flesh surrounded by her hot flesh, cold skin against her flushed skin - but somehow that only heightened the eroticism of the whole moment. Her legs twined around his waist, her hips rising as he plunged allowing him to take her as deeply as possible. They moved together, in a rhythm that their bodies knew and responded to without any urges. Stroke and thrust, stroke and thrust, her hips rocking against his as she clung to him, his hands guiding her in a slow tantalizing rhythm that drew her close to the edge but did not allow her to go over. After a while it became a game with him, plunging in as deep as she would accept him then withdrawing until only the tip remained inside of her. Each time she fought, raising her hips and clamping down - calling him names that only made him chuckle. Time and again, drawing her close to the point of climax, then relax, leaving her hovering there, full of need so bad that she ached.
In a fit of desperation, she latched onto him, her hips bucking wildly against him, her teeth sinking into the skin of his neck. That was the catalyst to ignite the flame, the fire that fueled him and he gave up the game, plundering her savagely, driving down into her until she tossed her head back, welcoming the explosion of pleasure. Angel's mouth locked onto her neck, fangs sinking deep into her skin and as the last wave began to die, that action pushed her yet again. Wave after wave washed over her, rippling through her body as her orgasm rocked her and her cries filled his apartment. On and on it went, until she pleaded with whatever higher power to end it before she died from the pleasure of it. She tasted tears on her cheeks, felt him stiffen, gripping her close, his own body shuddering. She heard his low growl, felt the fangs retract as he held her body against his, and still the exquisite tremors did not end, still she rode the crest until she was certain that she would experience another death.
But she didn't. It took her longer this time to return to herself, to regain some measure of equilibrium. Angel kissed and licked away the blood left by his bite, cradling her body close in the space allowed them by the couch. Not that they needed much space, their bodies remained intertwined, nearly impossible to tell where one left off and the other began. His hands smoothed back her hair, stroking her perspiration damp skin.
"Angel?" She spoke his name softly as he raised his head and their gazes locked.
"Shh, Willow." Angel silenced her with a tender kiss. "No thinking. No analyzing. Just enjoy the moment."
With a nod, she smiled and drew his head down to rest between her breasts. Entwining her fingers in his hair, she pushed away all thoughts of regret and all questions. Explanations, questions and regrets could wait until the morning. Tonight . . .tonight she would allow herself to simply bask in the afterglow.
The End