~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Willow gathered her skirts as the guards parted to let her into Galen's
chambers.
"You called for me, sire?" she asked. She was trying to remain aloof
and
idignant, considering the last time she saw him, he had pulled the
equivalent of a Moroccan "pantsing."
She could still feel the rush of air against her skin as she stood naked
in
his chamber. She had never felt so vulnerable, until she turned and
saw the
way his smoky eyes took her body in.
"Serena," Angel grinned, beckoning her across the room. He was wearing
a
park of midnight blue loose-fitting slacks and a long white silk shirt.
He
was lounging on a palette of deep cushions near a low-set dining table.
The
table was practically groaning under the weight of the sumptuous array
of
foods. Kumquats, sweetbreads, pomegranates, poached dates, some sort
of
stuffed baked peacock.
She stared as he bit into a ripe red pomegranate. She still couldn't
get
used to the idea Angel could eat earl food in her dreams.
"I thought you might like to dine with me tonight," he said.
"It depends on whether I'll end up naked and shivering at the end of
the
evening," she snorted.
"As I've told you many times, that is up to you," Angel said, his eyes
glinting wickedly. Willow caught her double entendre and winced.
"Doh," she muttered.
"Please, sit down," he said as he poured her a goblet of wine. She arranged
her voluminous emerald skirts around her as perched precariously on
the pile
of pillows.
"I see you chose emerald green tonight," he grinned. "Your signature color."
"Delilah won't let me wear any other color," Willow rolled her eyes.
"I
reached for a red dress once and I thought she was going to break my
arm."
"She's right," Angel said, stroking her cheek. "You should always wear
green, it brings out the fire in your hair, the depths of your eyes
and your
exquisite coloring."
"Pale and pallid?"
"Like mother-of-pearl," Angel grinned, popping a honeyed apricot between
her
lips. She moaned. She had never tasted anything so delicious
in her life.
He smiled, running his thumb along the outline of her mouth. She parted
her
lips, letting ler tongue slide over the delicate ridges of his skin.
His
hand cupped her face and pulled her lips to his.
He invaded her mouth gently, exploring her warmth. Her timid hands ran
through his hair, cupping his head against hers. He pressed her close,
letting her feel the response she sparked in him.
She could feel his hard erection pressing into her thigh. She gasped,
leaving her mouth open to further attack from Angel. He drew her tongue
into
his mouth, coiling and dancing with his.
He withdrew from her. "The choice is yours. Spend the night in my bed
or
return to the harem."
She rose on shaky legs an stepped away from him. He groaned inwardly,
he'd
better call the manservants for cold bathwater - AGAIN.
"Well?" she asked, turning back to him.
He blinked at her, blankly.
"Aren't you coming to bed?" she asked. He grinned, bolting up from his
seat
and throwing his arms around her body.
Angel's eyes fluttered open. He blinked. He was awake.
"AAAUGGH!" he groaned. "I had to wake up now!?"
Across town, in Willow's room, the redhead threw her alarm clock at
the
wall. It shattered, its buzzing died as the dials wound down.
She moaned. "I'm going to find the bastard that invented alarm clocks,
rip
off his arms and beat him with them."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Willow shuffled into the library, books in tow. Giles had called an
emergency research session on some prophecy the Council sent him.
"Hi Wills," Buffy said, brightly.
"Hey," she muttered, dropping her bookbag on the floor.
"What's a matter, Will?" Xander asked. "Somebody drop a house on you
sister?"
"Xander, how many times do I have to tell you Wicca don't like that
joke?"
she asked.
Giles brought a stack of books out of his "special collection."
"Here, Giles, let me help you with those," Willow said, taking a few
heavy
volumes from his arms.
"Thank you," he huffed, glaring at Buffy. The Slayer was too busy mooning
over Angel, who was doing his best to ignore her as he pored over a
volume
of demonology. "Buffy could you help me with the weaponry trunk?"
Buffy rolled her eyes and rose to help Giles. Willow sat across the
table
from Angel. He looked up. She was wearing a deep green silk shirt that
draped softly over her firm, rounded breasts.
"You look nice, Willow," he said.
She looked up and blushed. "Th-thanks."
"You should always wear green," he said.
Her eyes locked with his as her jaw dropped. Angel saw the sparks of
recognition at his choice of words - it was exactly was he had
said in his
dream the night before. But how could she know that?
Unless she was having the same dream.