ACKNOWLEDGMENTS: The usual suspects. See Part 1.

RATING: NC-17

DISCLAIMER: What Joss said about BtVS and fanfic still goes, so I'm only doing what he wants me to do. But he still owns Buffy and Angel. So do the WB, Fox and Mutant Enemy, and UPN probably has some residual rights, as well. No infringement is intended.

AUTHORS NOTE: The original draft of this chapter runs about twice as long as what’s posted, but I realized I left something out that I really want to include. So, I’m posting this short bit, and will revise the remaining section before posting the rest.

His sleeping lover seemed held in the thrall of some particularly lovely dream, Angelus realized when he returned to her side. Buffy had thrown off the sheet he’d drawn over her damp flesh, and enough moonlight spilled into the room for him to see that her nipples had hardened into inviting little peaks, begging for his touch, his taste, his pleasure. She moved restlessly on the bed, but soon her hips took up a rhythm he could appreciate. Head tossing on the pillows, she moaned.

"Angelus," she whispered. He felt himself harden, both in appreciation of the beautifully wanton picture she presented and in possessive lust that even in her dreams it was his name she called, now, not that of that loser soul. He could, of course, join her, give substance to her elusive dreams, but there was no urgency. Better to pace himself: the venom she had ingested would ensure that she satisfied all his thirsts, while the blood he had taken from her ensured that his own appetites would match whatever hunger she displayed. For now, Angelus sat in the chair opposite the bed and enjoyed the show.

It was certainly a premium performance. His diminutive mate writhed on the bed as if she were beneath him, her breathy moans the ones he so loved to hear, her hair spilling across the pillow like strands of raw silk. Her hands were twisted into the sheet beneath her, her legs were spread as to accommodate his bulk between her thighs, and those lovely thighs glistened with his own seed, from their earlier joining, and with her continued desire. Her beautiful cunt was displayed before him, pulsing and pink, quivering delectably as her hips rose to meet his dreamed-of thrusts. That she was dreaming of him and no other was evident: his name was spilling from her full lips in an unending chant. Angelus gave a low growl, hardening even further, and ran a soothing hand over his now painful erection. Before him, Buffy’s hips rose and fell in an ever increasing tempo, her head tossing from side to side, until finally, her entire body stiffened and her back arched.

"Angelus!" she said once more, a prolonged, wailing cry and he watched in fascination as she trembled into climax. Despite what she’d told him the night before, he still might not have believed it if he hadn’t seen it: his gorgeous pet had reached orgasm from the mere thought of him, with absolutely no physical stimulus, at all.

It boded decidedly well for their sexual future together.

It also relieved the last lingering doubts that had lain hidden at the back of his mind as to exactly who and what she’d been dreaming about when he’d walked in on her the night before. However she might dissemble while awake, she could hardly lie to him in her sleep, after all.

Buffy collapsed back against the pillows, her breathing deepening as she sank more completely into slumber. Angelus continued to stroke himself, planning what to do with her when she next woke. He was in no rush. She gave him two more equally stunning performances before he decided that his own pleasure had waited long enough. He joined her on the bed, gently crawling over her and lifting her right leg, draping it over his hip. She was completely relaxed, utterly malleable. And so enticingly wet. He slid into her slowly, easily, making her climax again. He resisted his own release, knowing that there was no need for haste: it would be hours before the effects of the venom wore off. The rhythm he adopted was uncharacteristically slow and gentle, and he teased her into the next release, rather than forced her into it. Time enough for force, later. Variety was rather the point of eternal life: repeating the same old patterns wore thin after the first few decades. Or, so he told himself as he gave Buffy pleasure without exacting his usual toll of pain.

Even in her sleep she was responsive to him, enticing, wanton, uninhibited.

Demanding.

Her arms had twined about his neck pulling him down, her breasts were thrust against his chest, her mouth devoured his hungrily. Angelus groaned in delight as she nipped at his lips then opened her mouth beneath his, inviting his tongue to slide between her lips and duel with hers. He grabbed her hips, lifting her to a more convenient angle, and her arms slid from around his neck, as she hissed in satisfaction and ran her nails down his back. She grabbed his ass in return, pulling him deeper inside her hungry channel. Angelus rumbled into a purr as she thrust against him, tightening her muscles around his aching cock. This wasn’t the uncontrolled spasm of climax: Buffy was deliberately using as much of her Slayer control as the drugs had left her to give them both that extra measure of delight.

All while still within a dream.

Angelus closed his eyes to savor the intoxicating pleasure of her intimate embrace, groaning with the effort of restraining his climax. With aching, deliberate slowness he continued to stroke steadily, teasing that spot inside her that so exquisitely responded to his least touch. Mewling, Buffy shuddered into climax for him, her womb fluttering hungrily around his manhood. Angelus panted for unneeded breath, desperate to hold off his release just a little longer, just until he brought her one more peak of rapture. He chose not to examine too closely why he was determined to see to it that the lamia venom did not leave her in a state of dissatisfaction, his own stamina drained by her venom-induced hungers. What did it matter to the Scourge of Europe if his bed partner were left wanting, so long as his own thirsts were slaked? But it did matter. The reasons were unimportant: Angelus wanted what he wanted, and no power on heaven or earth or birthed in the bowels of hell would prevent him from getting it: Buffy, wanton in his arms, suffused with rapture, bestowing upon him the same.

Angelus bent his head to press soft kisses to her lips, her cheeks, her eyes, her temple. Buffy’s response was eager, perfect, yielding, hungry. She kissed him back, her eyelids fluttering as she began to wake. He chose that moment to thrust harder, deeper inside her, and her mouth opened in a perfect "O" of ecstasy as she trembled around him, once more. Now, he thought, and shifted, burying his face in her neck as his demonic visage appeared and his fangs lengthened. As she writhed beneath him in climax, he sank his fangs into her, allowing her spiced blood to pour into his mouth and ensure his own climax matched hers. His cold seed jetted inside her, triggering more delicious spasms and he reveled in the perfection of the moment, clasped in the matchless embrace of his true mate.

Still, he dared not take too much. Reluctantly, he pulled away from the crimson fount, licking the tiny wounds closed, his body comfortably at rest within hers, waiting for the inevitable surge of need to rise within her.

Buffy was suffused in languorous desire, passion thrumming through her blood, firing along her nerves, scintillating against her skin. The dream she had had on the beach, with Mai, had somehow elided into moments of wakefulness, and her wanton hunger for Angelus, her carnal invitation, his deliciously demanding response, all had that same dreamlike quality. The border between those actions and the dreams which came next was blurred, and she almost couldn’t distinguish between them, save that the dreams had contained fantastical elements which had seemed perfectly natural to her in the dream, and perfectly absurd upon waking. As delightful as it would be if Angelus could somehow split himself in two, and make love to her with both parts of himself, it certainly wasn’t happening at the moment.

What was happening was delightful enough. Buffy gasped in rapture as her demon lover thrust more deeply inside her, triggering another moment of sweet release, then dipped his head to pierce her neck with his fans, intensifying her orgasm. She surrendered herself to the tempest of passion, held securely in his arms. As the tempest receded, she stretched contentedly.

"I think I’ve healed," she murmured drowsily.

"Is that so?" he chuckled.

"Mmmm. Not sore at all. So, you don’t have to worry."

"Worry?"

She opened her eyes wide, and he saw they smoldered with green fire. Buffy wrapped her legs tight around his waist, her arms around his neck and squeezed her internal muscles around his suddenly re-aroused member while she devoured his mouth with a hunger that outdid anything she’d willingly given him before. Gasping for breath, she pulled away, looked him in the eye, her own glittering with passion, and, in a husky voice told him exactly what she meant about his not having to worry.

"Fuck. Me. Hard."

He was shocked. He was thrilled. He was enchanted.

And, he was all too willing to accede to her request. With a groan, Angelus, shifted position, rising to his knees, and taking Buffy with him. He was kneeling on the bed, Buffy’s body joined to his, in a position that let him go deliciously deep inside her. He grabbed her hips, pulling her down on his aching cock as he thrust himself up into her volcanic heat.

"Tell me what you want," he growled, nipping at her lips.

"You. Inside me," she said back.

"Tell me," he demanded. So she did. In that innocent, little girl voice she described exactly how she wanted him, using words she’d probably never even thought to herself a week ago. She told him how to touch her, how to taste her, how to take her. He found himself bending her backward over one arm, the better to nibble on her pert breasts, while his other arm reached between them and his fingers began to toy with her clit.

"Yessss," she hissed, grinding down on him, her hands flying to his hair to keep him at play with her sensitive nipples. Buffy felt exalted, intoxicated by her power over the demon in her arms. Angelus, Scourge of Europe was devoting himself to her pleasure, acceding to her least request. She wasn’t naïve. She knew that his seeming deference was not the true state of affairs between them. She was as much in his power as she ever had been, but something had shifted, very subtly, in their relationship, and she intended to build upon that. For now, it was enough to free herself of inhibition and convention, and give herself over to desire.

In a few minutes, he had her coming again, but he knew she was far from sated, that while the lamia’s gift continued to flow through her, she would be impossible to sate for more than a few moments. She had gone limp over him, at rest for one of the very short intervals the venom allowed her. Angelus took advantage of that to lift her off his body, and lay her back on the cushions, then work his way down her body, until his shoulders were between her spread thighs, and he could feast on her intimate flesh.

"Angelus," she moaned his name, fingers gripping his hair once more as he slowly tongued her damp folds. Not needing to breath was a decided advantage, as he ate her into another cascade of peaks, one after another rocketing through her as he suckled her clit, lapped her pouting nether lips, stabbed his tongue into her sweetness. He gently teased her roseate back passage, causing her to moan again.

The sensations elicited by Angelus’ tongue against her flesh were enthralling, shocking, decadent. She had resisted some of the ways he’d taken his pleasure with her, but at the moment, with lamia venom singing in her veins, nothing he wanted seemed anything she wanted to refuse. Whatever inhibitions she had were no longer holding her back. As she felt his tongue tease against the tight opening, an erotic thrill coursed through her from head to toe.

"There," she demanded. "Fuck me there."

Her gutturally spoken request nearly had him climax, then and there. Buffy begging for him to give it to her up her utterly delectable, tight little ass . . .did unlife get any better than this? With a final lick, he pulled away.

"Your wish, babe," he wasn’t quite ready to finish that statement in the traditional way. He wasn’t about to let anyone command him. For the moment, that wasn’t an issue. She wasn’t asking for anything he wasn’t perfectly eager to give.

The venom was still having an effect.

"Hurry," she whined, wriggling her hips.

"Patience, sweetheart," he said, leaning over her to get to the toys in the nightstand. In a moment he’d gotten a pair of nipple clamps, one of the oils, and something he hadn’t tried on her, yet.

"Don’t want patience," she complained reaching for him. "Want you."

"You’re going to have me, darling girl," he promised darkly. "All of me. Forever."

"Forever," she repeated dreamily.

"That’s right, my love," he smirked. "Forever. Starting right now." He bent his head to capture a tight nipple, suckled it for a moment or two, then slipped a clamp over it. Buffy whimpered but didn’t protest. He treated the other breast the same way, then tugged lightly on the chain between them. She hissed in pleasurable pain, and arched toward him. He kissed her briefly, then slapped her hip lightly. "Get up on those pretty hands and knees, babe."

She obeyed instantly, wiggling her hips invitingly, once she was in the desired position.

"Easy, precious," he chuckled, reaching for the new toy. The harness he strapped her into held a vibrator shaped like a butterfly, to kiss her clit, while the small thick plug beneath it penetrated her just enough to tease her g-spot. Buffy whined when he fit it into place, but he ignored her as he piled the pillows beneath her hips to raise her to the right angle.

Buffy was trembling and eager, and while the toys he was lavishing upon her were pleasant, they were no substitute for her demon lover’s cold, hard flesh filling her and bringing her rapture.

"Not enough," she gasped as he pressed her gently against the pillows.

"No, babe, it isn’t," he agreed . "I’m the only thing that’s enough for you."

"Only you," she moaned as he hit the switch and started a low vibration massaging against her overwrought tissues. She arched her body in ecstasy, but spread her thighs further apart, clearly not getting quite the satisfaction she craved. Angelus stared at her temptingly spread thighs, his seed glistening on them, and at her gorgeous rump, invitingly high in the air, waiting for him. He grabbed up the bottle of oil, and trickled some down the crack of her ass.

"Mmmm," she purred as he rubbed it delicately into her back passage. Ordinarily, he’d have taken his time stretching her with his fingers, but there was no time for such niceties. Angelus quickly oiled his cock, and a moment later, he moved to cover her body with his own.

"Open for me, baby," he demanded, before burying his face against the soft crook of her neck and suckling on his mark. And, open for him she did. There was no resistance, this time, and he slid into her almost effortlessly. He groaned at the intoxicating, tight heat of her, and at her enthusiastic welcome. Buffy pushed her hips back against him, whimpering in an agony of need.

"Hurts," she panted, "hurts so good."

If there were a vampiric equivalent of nirvana, this was it, lost in sensual bliss spiced with just a bit of the pain and dominance so essential to his demonic nature.

A moment later, it got even better.

Buffy leaned forward just a little, the new angle allowing him to slide in just a tad deeper, and also allowing her to lift her lower legs, in her kneeling position, so that the heels of her little feet drove into his buttocks.

"Harder," she gasped, simply. With a groan, he complied.

Buffy moaned rapturously as Angelus set up a grueling pace, one she’d have protested even a day ago, but which now she egged on with enthusiasm. She thrilled to his complete possession of her, thrilled even more to his complete accession to every demand she had made. Now, in the most explicit terms yet, she told him how good he felt inside her, how much she wanted him, exactly how she wanted him. She described what she was feeling, exactly how he was touching her, and she begged him to touch her some more. Angelus reached around to tug lightly on the chain connecting the nipple clamps, and she sobbed in need, begging for more, as she approached her most intense orgasm yet.

Her tight heat surrounding him, her erotic demands sounding in his ears, her sensual abandon thrilling to his demonic nature, Angelus knew there was no way he could keep himself from joining her, this time. And the closer she got to climax, the more graphic her descriptions, the more heated her imaginings.

"I love your big, hard cock, baby," she crooned. "Wish you had two cocks, filling me," she went on, remembering her earlier dream. "Want to suck you off while you pound inside my cunt, want you inside my wet pussy and my hot ass, want you, Angelus, want you, only you, always you. . ."

"Fuck, yeah," Angelus agreed, pounding inside her, and tugging rhythmically on the chain between her breasts. He fumbled around for the vibrator control, turning it up as high as it would go, and making her shriek in bliss. "Come for me, my pretty bitch," he demanded, on the verge of his own release. "Let me feel those tight muscles clamping on my dick, babe."

"Yes, oh yes," she panted, "make me come on your cock, lover. Give it to me, give it all to me."

Roaring, Angelus pulled out and slammed back in, hard, deep and fast. Buffy screamed her release, and her tight muscles clamped on his dick as tightly as he could desire, making him spill his cold dead seed inside her depths, bathing her in soothing coolness.

They collapsed as one against the pillows, Angelus vaguely conscious of the vibrations of the toy still humming inside her, and transmitting a not unpleasant caress to his momentarily depleted manhood. Sighing, he pulled out of Buffy, but he left the toy in place, humming away, as he gently rolled her over. He removed the first clamp, suckling her freed nipple tenderly, then removed the other in the same manner, reaching to gently rotate the toy inside her, and easing her into a few more gentle climaxes, to finish off what he’d started, until she was, as he’d hoped, exhausted and slumberous once more. Only then did he gently remove the toy and toss it to the side.

Angelus collapsed on the mattress beside his sleeping mate, conserving his strength for the next bout.

______________________________________________________________________________

We have not yet come to the end of our Journey.

FEMFIC        PART 21        PART 22b     FEEDBACK

Sign My Guestbook View My Guestbook

Visit our Bulletin Board or join our Update List