by
Margot Le Faye

    His size and length fascinated her. It was unbelievable that she had had all of that inside herself. No wonder it hurt sometimes. Even if she liked the way it hurt. With a sigh, Buffy continued her explorations. The contrast between the rigidity of the underlying muscle and the velvet softness of his skin fascinated her, as did the contrast between his vampiric cold and her human warmth. As her fingers stroked lightly across his flesh, making his manhood jump in response, she smiled. Also fascinating was the foreskin, so different from Parker and Riley. She closed both hands around him, drawing back the hood, noting the clear drops of pre-cum already gathering at the weeping tip. An utterly wicked thought came to her, and she leaned down, licking at the tip.

"Buffy!" Angel roared, unable to control himself as her warm little tongue licked hesitantly. He bucked his hips, trying to force himself into her mouth. With a giggle she drew back. Angel pulled on the chains, but they held. No matter. She couldn't keep him chained up forever, and when he got free…. Another tentative stroke of her tongue drove that thought, and all others, from his mind.

The tortured groans coming from the vampire beside her delighted Buffy. Encouraged by the reaction she was getting, she opened her mouth over the velvety head and sucked it slowly into her mouth. He tried to ram his hips upward, but she had learned, and she used her hands backed up by considerable Slayer strength to hold him down. She sucked more of the hard, cold flesh down, but realized she couldn't take too much of it without choking. Hmm. Something was wrong, here. She knew it was possible to go further. She adjusted her position, angled her head differently, opened her mouth wider….

Angel groaned as the most delectable wet heat in the world engulfed him, Buffy somehow managing to take him almost down to the root. If she didn't let him move soon, he was going to expire and she'd be left with nothing but a pile of dust and a pair of empty manacles.

She didn't seem too worried about that prospect. Buffy continued to experiment on her helpless victim, trying different types of suction and friction, different speeds and angles, each of which combined to drive him slowly out of his mind. She released him all together at one point, then set her tongue licking in a series of feather light, hummingbird-quick flicks down the underside of his shaft that had him groaning aloud. She liked the feel of him on her tongue, all that deceptive, velvet softness, and she liked how cold he was, like a frozen treat, soothing her throat as her untried muscles opened wider than they really wanted to go. And she liked the taste of him, sweet and tart and tangy all at once. She sucked him back down, reveling in his whimpers of lust, and then, wanting to taste more, she drove the tip of her little tongue into the weeping slit at the tip. The manacles rattled on the headboard in a frenzy as Angel shouted her name. She decided to take pity on him. Buffy let go of Angel's hips, not surprised or unprepared when they surged upward, forcing him deeper down her throat. She obliged him, then set her now freed hands to helping her establish a rhythm that would complete what she had started.

She could have taught the Hoover people a few things about vacuums Angel thought, as his hips thrust helplessly upward, desperate to drive deeper into that divine wet heat. She was kneeling over him now, the firm globes of her white bottom temptingly near. His gaze went lower, and he could see the pouting lips of her sex peeking from beneath the nest of rich brown curls. A pearly drop of moisture glistened on those lips, and he realized with a start that this wasn't just payback; she was as aroused as he was by what she was doing to him. Then he dismissed her interest as a power trip, closed his eyes, and gave himself up to whatever the hell she wanted to do.

He tasted so damned good, Buffy had to try one more thing. Taking a deep breath to sustain her lungs, she swallowed as much of him as she could force down her throat, sucked hard…and began to hum, while swirling the tip of her tongue over the sensitive head of his cock.

Wet heat, hot hard suction, and now vibrations shivering up and down his length matched by the swirling caress of her tongue. Angel felt his control begin to slip….

There was something else she had wanted to try, she remembered, and used her teeth to scrape oh so gently….

With a shout, Angel came, pouring his cold seed into her waiting mouth. Buffy was a little startled, but not too badly. This was what she had been working for, after all. She drew back just enough to keep from choking and began to eagerly swallow. Cold and still with that tantalizing mix of sweet and tangy, soothing aching muscles and intoxicating her with a feel of feminine power….

She sucked him dry, her tongue laving up every last drop, her throat working to keep him hard as long as possible. When he had softened and was beginning to beg her to stop, she relented, letting him slip out of her mouth, and curling up beside his hips. She was confident that he didn't pose a threat right now, while chained and well, drained. She chuckled at her own joke. Of course, the point of this exercise would be rather lost if he stayed drained, but Buffy was pretty sure she could handle that. Catlike, she rubbed her cheek against his thigh, and was pleasantly surprised when his quiescent flesh gave a little jump of interest. Good. She wouldn’t have to wait too long. She patted him fondly and got off the bed.

Angel pried open heavy lidded eyes, wondering what the little bitch was up to this time. He wouldn't put it past her to leave him chained up for Cordy to find…Not that Cordy would. He was pretty sure he could break out of these cuffs if he had to. The crossbow and the stake had decided him against trying…the stake which, as he watched, rolled off the bed to the floor, landing soundlessly on the rug beside his bed. Angel grinned wolfishly behind Buffy's back. The game had just changed, but he wouldn't reveal that until he had to. Buffy was rooting around in her bag. She made a soft sound of triumph and turned back to him, stalking back toward the bed with her prize.

A bottle of Motion Lotion? Angel spent enough time in the seedier parts of LA to know what that was. Where the hell had Buffy learned about it? Again, it didn't matter. The idea that Buffy intended to use it on him had him hard again even before she got back to the bed.

"One thing I have to give you murderous bloodsucking fiends," she said sweetly, knowing the words would hurt and not caring, "you do have the preternatural stamina thing going."

"Just like you treacherous Slaying sluts," Angel countered. Her smile hardened.

"Play nice, Angel," she warned.

"You first," he returned, not backing down.

"Fair enough," she decided. "Let's see how you like this game." She poured some of the oil onto her hands, and set the bottle down on the nightstand beside him. She had come close to him, her full breasts, almost overflowing the corset, temptingly near his mouth, but not quite near enough. She drew back, and once more took his manhood in her hands, slowly covering him with the cherry flavored oil. Angel closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of the headboard.

She was caressing him as if she couldn't touch him enough, as if her hands craved the feel of his flesh. It was a dangerously seductive illusion, but an irresistible one, as well. Angel gave himself up to it, pretending she was doing this because she wanted him the way, despite everything, he still wanted her, not because she had an itch that needed scratching and she could do this and humiliate him into the bargain. Her hands stroked over him in delicate exploration, the oil still cool and soothing. Soon, he knew, that would change, and sure enough, as her strokes became more insistent and firm, the first hints of warmth shivered through him.

Buffy smiled when she got that reaction, and when she could feel the change in the palms of her hands. It was time. She moved, straddling his hips, and positioned him at her wet entrance. Her glazed eyes sought his. Realizing he had closed them, she felt anger lick at her.

"Look at me," she demanded in quiet rage. His eyes snapped open, meeting hers.

"Don't think you can pretend," she taunted him. He wondered how she had known, but the rest of her speech made no sense to him. "I'm not someone else, not Darla or Drusilla. This is me, Buffy. The woman you hate. And I am going to give you the ride of your unlife."

He swallowed his own rage as she lifted herself and slid him into her hot core. The lotion was having the desired effect, burning him up, making him desperate for the friction her tight little body could provide. She began to move up and down, slowly, her eyes locked to his. He couldn't look away from her eyes, fascinated by the passion in their green depths. Once that passion had been his, her love had been his anchor, calling him back from Hell itself. Now, her hatred was all he had left.

Well, if that was how she wanted it….

He thrust his hips upward, driving deeper. She mewled and met him, her own head falling back and her eyes closing, this time letting her shut him out. He didn't like it. Angel tugged harder on the chains. Buffy ignored him, rolling her hips and taking him deeper.

He kept trying to get free, but her hips were distracting his attention, her tight core driving him into a frenzy…until she arched her back and reached behind her and gently fondled his balls and he knew he couldn't let her keep control.

With a roar, Angel tore free of the cuffs, hauling Buffy closer and kissing her with a ferocity that left her breathless. Not so breathless that she couldn’t struggle, desperate to keep control of the situation, something Angel wasn’t about to tolerate. Not breaking the kiss, he clamped one arm around her, rolled to the side and used his free hand to root through his night stand drawer. He found what he needed almost at once.

"If you want to get serious about bondage," he told her, breaking the kiss as he forced her wrists into the heavy steel manacles, "Don't settle for the restraints they have in sex toy shops. This is the real deal, lover, heavy gauge steel, reinforced by medieval binding spells. No getting out of these without a key." Buffy looked at him, her green eyes gone wide and vulnerable, but he was immune to that look, now. He wrestled her onto her back, then pulled out of her. Only so that he could wrap the chains around the headboard, stretching her arms helplessly taut above her head…which lifted her lovely breasts so that the dusky aureoles peeked above the neckline of her corset. With a groan, Angel bent his head to lave his tongue over the tempting bits of flesh. She gasped again, and thrust them upward into his eager mouth.

His cock was heating from the Motion Lotion, burning to be inside her again. Angel parted her thighs and drove deep, ducking his head to keep one pert nipple trapped in his mouth. Buffy moaned, her head thrashing against the pillows, her hair fanning out across his bed like a captured sunrise. Angel could barely appreciate the view, his senses overwhelmed by the taste of the sweet flesh in his mouth, the feel of the stroking wet heat enveloping his manhood. Angel braced himself over her on his arms, leaning slightly sideways, so that he could slip one hand between their bodies. He found her clit, and rubbed hard, was rewarded when she sobbed and twisted beneath him, going off like a fire cracker as he pounded into her. Merciless, he kept her at her peak for several minutes, the oil now spread to her internal tissues, making her as hot and hard and hungry as he was himself.

What followed was frenzy, as he became mindless for her, forgetting their bitter hatred, forgetting what a user she was, forgetting everything but the feel of her surrounding him, her soft cries muffled as his mouth claimed hers. He lost track of how long they battled, of how many peaks he made her reach, lost track of everything but her feel, her scent, her taste.

Until he realized that the Motion Lotion was having an unexpected side effect on his unliving flesh. Close as he got to the edge, he wasn't going over. Buffy was in the middle of another climax. He held her to it, then eased her down, then lay over her, unmoving, still painfully hard.

After a moment she stirred.

"Angel?" she questioned softly, almost fearfully. Well, she was right to be afraid.

"You knew this would happen, didn't you?"

"I knew…what are you talking about?" She looked confused, but he knew better.

"Well, bitch, you should get your money's worth out of this. You said you wanted to try something new." He pulled out of her, reached for her chains, and twisted them, simultaneously flipping her over so that she was on her belly.

"We've done this," she said waspishly.

He pulled her hips upward until she was kneeling before him, and he forced her thighs more widely apart. He reached for the damned oil, spreading a little on his finger, then parted the globes of her plump ass apart and rubbed the finger against an unexpected place.

"No, we haven't," he said smugly as she gasped in shock and tried to pull away. She couldn't go far, thanks to the chains, and he hauled her back, positioned himself, and forced himself into the tight, reluctant darkness. She gave a cry of real pain, and it cut through his anger and his own pain, getting to the little bit of his heart that she had left unscathed.

"Shhh," he said soothingly, despite himself. He stopped moving, letting her get used to the unfamiliar fullness. "If you relax, this won't hurt."

"Do you have a clue how much I hate you?" she said bitterly, but he could feel her begin to relax, forcing her muscles to loosen. He gave her a moment to adjust, then pushed inside gently. He felt himself slip past the tight ring of her sphincter, and reached around to fondle her clit. She sighed, and he felt her open further, until he could slide all the way in.

Buffy couldn’t believe it. Her bottom was burning, and it felt like she was going to be split in half with his next thrust. But his fingers were stroking her delicately, almost lovingly, and somehow, her initial discomfort was vanishing to be replaced by something very close to pleasure.

More than close she realized, as he gently withdrew and thrust forward again. This was…nice. Wickedly nice. Nastily nice. Naughty and decadent and her hips began to thrust back to meet him, encouraging him to go just a little faster, a little harder.

Angel couldn’t believe how tight she was, or how responsive. She was thrusting back, accepting all of his swollen length into her tiny body. If this didn't push him over the edge, nothing would.

It seemed like she might be there before him. He heard her breathing become uneven, and he could feel her heart rate speed up. His fingers were becoming coated with her inner moisture, and he knew this felt as good to her as it did to him. He smiled and nuzzled her neck, his hips speeding up their rhythm. Shivering, remembering what had happened the last few times they had come together, she pressed her neck backward, silently begging him to take her completely.

Angel licked at the rapidly beating pulse beneath his lips, tempted to vamp out and bite through. From the way she was squirming against him, from the way she arched her throat backward, he could almost believe she wanted that, wanted the bloodsucking fiend to suck her own sweet Slayer's blood. But no, she must hate that.

Which, now that he thought about it, was as good a reason as any to do it. Angel let his demon slip, and sank his fangs into the sweet, pulsing vein. Her reaction was instantaneous, her hips slamming back into his, her internal muscles contracting helplessly, squeezing him until he popped, as the golden elixir of her blood hit his tongue and the combination of sensations brought him the release he hadn't expected to achieve.

No longer caring whether he hurt her, he slammed into her, mindless in his orgasm, knowing only he had to go deeper, harder, faster, until he had gone so deep, she would never be able to abandon him again. Mewling, Buffy met each punishing thrust, the climax he had brought her to making her uncaring of everything but taking him deeper, harder, faster, until she had him so deep he could never escape her, never leave her lonely and wanting again.

The frenzy continued for long moments as they drove each other to new heights, and hit peaks that neither could ever have contemplated. But their endurance was not illimitable, and soon, even their preternatural strength gave out. Buffy collapsed beneath him, her shaking legs no longer able to keep her kneeling on the bed. Angel followed, retracting his fangs and shifting his weight so that he didn't crush her or tear her tender flesh. The wound he had given her trickled blood, and he leant forward to lap up the tiny rivulet. Sighing, she pushed against his lips, and he could no longer doubt that she took as much pleasure from the act as he. He ought, he knew, to find the damned key, unlock the manacles, and throw her out of bed. Instead, he made sure there was enough give in the chain not to cramp her arms, pulled her against him, and drew his quilt over them both.

"You are such a bastard," she grumbled as she wiggled her sore bottom against his hips and snuggled back against his cool chest.

"And you're such a bitch," he growled, wrapping his arms possessively around her waist, and resting his chin on the top of her head. In a few moments, both had fallen contentedly asleep.

While miles away, beneath the foundations of Sunnydale, something stirred in faint alarm.

That night, both Buffy and Angel were visited by dreams that left them vaguely unhappy and ill at ease when they awoke. When memory returned, both felt even more awkward. Wordlessly, Angel unlocked the cuffs. As wordlessly, Buffy sat up, massaging her wrists, and eyeing him warily. Again without words, she got out of the bed, and pulled on her coat. She was halfway to the elevator before something inside Angel snapped.

"Next time," he drawled, "forget the Motion Lotion and get a water-soluble massage oil." Buffy froze, as the delicious implications sank in. She turned and gave him an utterly feline smile.

"Next time," she said huskily. He growled and lunged off the bed after her, but she was already in the elevator and giggled at him as she sailed out of his reach. He grinned wickedly back.

So it was that both Rupert Giles and Cordelia Chase got the mistaken impression that whatever had gone wrong between Buffy and Angel, both had put it behind them and were moving on with their lives.

Buffy was sweetly apologetic to her friends, while Angel actually started cracking jokes and humming around the office. Both were in far better moods, were working at top efficiency, and seemed to be relatively content with life. And the chance mention of the other's name no longer drove either one to a rampage. Instead, they calmly offered to help each other when the need arose. Giles and Cordy decided there was no need for a confrontation.

Unbeknownst to them, the confrontations were happening on at least a weekly basis.

It wasn't that she hated him any less, Buffy decided as she dusted herself with the edible body powder she had found in the sex toy shop that had become her favorite place to go. It was that he had his uses, and she might as well accept that.

After all, he thought as he ran the electric shaver over his face, making sure there was no annoying stubble to irritate delicate tissues or sensitive flesh, if she wanted to use him, he might as well use her right back.

It wasn't, each thought, as if the other had a heart to break like their own hearts broke every single time. And at least each could pretend that the other cared.

FEMFIC      PART 5        PART 7        FEEDBACK

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