St Valentine’s Day

©©©©©©

"I can't believe you got her to come down here tonight," hissed Cordelia, following Angel into his apartment.  "Do you even know what today is?"

"February 14th," Angel noted dryly and Cordelia crossed her arms and raised an expectant eyebrow.

"And..."

Inwardly, Angel groaned, Cordelia's 'ands' were never a good thing.  "And what?"

"Valentine’s Day," the short statement left the Seer's lips and Angel visibly winced.

"Willow would have said something if she had plans."

"Ugh, men...well vampires," stated Cordy, throwing her hands to the air in a gesture born of pure frustration.  "Valentine’s Day is never about making plans."

"Do you have plans?"

"Yes," she glared at him, wondering how an individual could be walking the earth for over two hundred years and still not truly comprehend the meaning of St Valentine’s Day.  "But that's different."

"How so?" maybe, if he moved slowly, he could get away from her and the...

"I have a bevy of would be suitors, this is LA!  But Willow is...how can I explain this to you?  Okay, Willow is on campus, surrounded by young, virile men who are just dying to swoop in and heal her broken heart...maybe with one very romantic gesture and maybe, just maybe, starting off anonymously...on Valentine’s Day...are you getting the picture?"

...lecture.

Angel glanced about the room before coming back to the expectant brunette.  "No."

"Willow's not there, they can't swoop and they've all assumed by now that she has some mysterious lover who she's separated from so they'll give her a wide berth,” Cordelia took a step closer to the vampire, waiting for the true meaning of the day to hit home.  Apparently it didn’t.  “Valentine’s Day is the day to heal broken hearts and you’ve just slammed the door shut on Willow's."

The last few words were punctuated with a prod from her finger on his chest and Angel's hand flew up to rub at the spot.  He had one argument and he was sticking to it.

"She would have said something if she had plans."

"Vampires," exclaimed Cordelia, perplexed at his inability to grasp a simple idea. "You just don't get it."

Angel watched as the brunette walked away, still talking to herself, and he shook his head.  "Apparently not."

"I heard that," she stated, turning back to glare at him.  Hands on hips, she narrowed her eyes and raised an eyebrow.  "I'm going now, because I do have plans, and I'll tell you this ~ you’d better at least take Willow out to dinner or I'm washing your sheets in Holy Water!"

With that, Cordelia turned on her heel and headed back up the stairs.  Angel could clearly hear her talking to Willow, saying her goodbyes to the redhead as he warmed his blood and wondered at what she'd told him.  Valentine’s Day, he'd not even considered the importance of the date when he'd called and asked Willow to help him out with hacking into Wolfram and Hart's main server, or more specifically Lindsey MacDonald's files.  It had just been another day, convenient for him and at the time he'd assumed that it was a convenient day for Willow...after all, she would have said if she had plans.

But then what Cordelia had said actually made sense.  Angel hated that.

The microwave beeped and he took out the mug, sipping at it as he flipped on the jug to make some coffee for Willow.  The brood and guilt levels went up, at least Cordelia was proficient in ensuring he'd always be well grounded in those two aspects. Coffee, that'd make it all better...and then maybe dinner...and lending an ear to the broken heart...and next time he was going to check the date.  The jug flicked off and he drained his mug, rinsing it out and leaving it in the sink before applying himself to making coffee. 

By the time he had it all done, raided Cordelia's secret stash of chocolate cookies and made his way back upstairs, Willow was exactly where he'd left her.  Sitting at Cordelia's computer, happily hooked up and typing away, frowning and biting her bottom lip.

"How's it going?" he asked, putting down the coffee and cookies. 

"Okay," Willow shrugged.  "I'm in."

"Great," murmured Angel, stealing one of the cookies for himself, having Cordelia keep all her 'guilty pleasures' at his place had given him a sweet tooth.  He'd lost count at how many times he'd gone on a raiding party of her hidden treasures, feasting and then guiltily replacing them before she found out.  Little did he realize that Cordy knew every time, since the number of items increased, it was either Angel or inanimate objects were breeding in the vampire’s apartment.

"Err, not great," Willow grabbed a cookie and nibbled, washing it down with a sip of coffee while casting a brief glance at the vampire as he hovered.

"What?"

"There's nothing on the server," Willow didn't bother looking up at him.  "I mean he has a general back up area, a few internal memo's sent out through it, but there's nothing I can find that is even vaguely interesting for you.  My guess is he keeps all the important stuff on his hard disk with a soft copy back up..."

"Can you get into his computer through the server?"

"Nope," Willow sighed and wondered what Angel thought she'd been doing for the last half hour.

"Damn," muttered Angel, frowning at the computer screen and the Wolfram and Hart system that Willow was working with.  "What if you were sitting down at his computer?"

"Well, sure,” Willow shrugged. “That'd make things a lot easier."

Angel took in her appearance, the usual Willowy state of dress with loose skirt and a top that looked like an artist’s massacred paint rag wouldn't exactly blend into Wolfram and Hart, she'd be spotted as soon as she walked through the door.  But there was an answer to that problem, his wannabe actress secretary. 

"Cordelia's got a suit downstairs, we'll get changed and walk in through the front door," Angel couldn't miss the small sound of horror that left Willow, especially since she nearly choked on her coffee as he said it.

"Err, I don't think so," Willow protested, turning in her chair to face the vampire.  "You're talking about walking into a huge lawyer firm that undoubtedly has security guards and I'd have to wear Cordelia's clothes...she'd kill me...and I'm not going to get out of this, am I?"

"Willow," Angel said patiently, leaning over her chair.  "I need those files."

"I should learn to just say no," she sighed, standing up and gesturing to Angel to lead the way.  Sullenly, she followed him totally unaware of the affect that her monologue was having on his guilt levels.  "It's not that hard to say...no...no...n-o...no.  See, easy.  I can say no."

"Did you have plans for tonight?"

"No," Willow shook her head as they reached his apartment and sighed.  He turned, casting her a weary glance and she gave him a lopsided grin.  "See, I said it, I can say no."

"I'm serious, you really didn't have plans for tonight?"  Angel regretted pushing the point as soon as he saw the pain in her eyes.  It was probably the last thing she wanted to be reminded of, that she was alone on Valentine's Day.  The momentary lapse into melancholy by the witch was brief, a mere flash of sadness and a slight tremble of the smile.  She was back to beaming before the vampire could even be sure he'd seen the thing he was feeling so guilty about. 

"Of course I had plans," she smiled cheekily. "I promised I'd help you out.  But I didn't think you were going to make me dress up in Cordy's clothes."

"Would you have refused to come if you'd known?" Angel asked, leading her into the bedroom, grabbing the suit and holding it out for her. 

"Now that I've seen the suit..." her eyes roamed over the short skirt and tailored jacket before fixing on Angel.  "Yes."

"The bathroom's through there," Angel stated, pointing toward the door that led off his bedroom.  Handing her the suit, he frowned momentarily.  "Hang on, you need shoes."

"Oh yeah," Willow frowned at the high heels he held out to her and forced a smile.  "Anything else?"

"Pantyhose...are black okay? That's all she's got here." Angel totally missed the grimace that crossed Willow's face as he turned back to the dresser to fetch the packet that Cordy kept as spares.  "Barely black, silk..."

Willow blushed as she snatched the packet out of his hands and disappeared into the bathroom before he could force anything else on her.

"Don't forget your hair," he called out, stripping out of his clothes so he could don his suit.  "Conservative lawyerish and less..."

"Witchy student," offered Willow from the safety of his bathroom where she'd hung up the suit so she could have a sticky beak.  Not surprisingly a first aid kit and luxury hair products dominated the small room.  She was pretty certain that most of the gels, mousse, waxes, anti-frizz products and deep conditioners weren't just left there by Cordy, no wonder the man's hair was so luxuriant.  Carefully examining the various jars, tubes and bottles, she picked up a medium control wax and followed the directions.  That done, she turned to the problem of getting dressed...and dear god, they weren't pantyhose but lace-top, stay-up stockings and she groaned.  It was going to be a long and uncomfortable night.

"Willow?" Angel fiddled with his tie, she'd been in the bathroom for ages.  "Is everything alright in there?"

"Umm..."

"Willow?" Angel frowned, moving over to the door to listen.  "You okay?"

"Umm...yeah," the door opened and she stepped out.  Her hair was smoothed down and shiny, tucked neatly behind her ears and curled under.  The suit, on close inspection, didn't fit that well, it was too big in the shoulders and bust, but with the style of the long jacket it wasn't too noticeable.  Overall, she looked very sophisticated.  "I hate this suit."

Didn't mean she had to appreciate the way she looked and Angel smiled at the comment.

"You look nice," Angel stated, still fiddling with his tie.  "Ready?"

"Yes," she sighed and reached up to fix the tie that was perplexing him.  "This must be such a pain without a reflection...come to think of it, how do you do your hair?"

Sophisticated exterior or no, it was still the same Willow. 

"I do it to the best of my ability and then Cordelia gives me a running commentary," a faint smile tainted his lips as Willow giggled.  "Shall we?"

***

As he predicted the new and improved Willow didn't rate a second glance, except from the young security guard who winked at her.  Within minutes of walking through the rotating doors they were in Lindsey's office, copying files from his computer. 

"Is this him?" asked Willow, picking up the framed photograph on the desk of the young lawyer and his bosses, she held it up to Angel, who was keeping an eye on the door, and he grunted in acknowledgement.  "Wow, how come all the baddies are hotties?" 

Angel glanced at her.  She was joking right?

"You think he's attractive?"

"Well yeah," Willow admitted, blushing as she put the picture back down and checked on the files copying over.  "You know, in an evil kind of I'd never date him way. Do you think he's cute?"

"Never really thought about it."

"Well, someone must have the hots for him, look at all the flowers," she stated, glancing about the office that was packed with decadent long stemmed blood red roses.  "Lucky guy."

"He probably bought them himself," Angel muttered.

"He's got very kissable lips," she was distracted by the picture again and hadn't heard Angel's mumbled response.  "They're so plump and luscious..." she glanced up to see Angel frowning at her from the doorway and she blushed, coughing slightly as she turned back to the computer screen.  "I'll be quiet now."

His fingers immediately went to his own lips, which were set in a scowl.  It’s strange how little things and comments prey on an individuals mind.  Plump and luscious could never be used to describe Angel's lips and he knew it. Not that he had bad lips but they weren't the sort that fascinated women...unless they were firmly attached to flesh and then they tended to make them scream.  And not always in a good way.  Still, it was something he was self conscious about, maybe even slightly jealous. Hell, when Spike had wandered into their lives one of the first things Darla had noticed were his lips, applying similar words to the pouty objects that Willow had just used to describe the lips that were currently walking up the hallway.

"Willow, he's coming," Angel moved to the desk as she stood up and switched off the computer screen.  It was an automatic action for Willow, learned from years of hiding not so pleasant otherworldly research from anyone who walked in on her.  Little did they both know that that small action would save their hides.  "Down."

A moment before the door opened, Angel dragged them both under the massive wooden desk, pulling Willow between his spread legs as his back hit the wooden panel that covered the front of the desk.  Beside them, in the wooden shelf specifically designed to hold the upright hardware of the computer, the PC whirred quietly, still copying files.  Willow held her breath and screwed her eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable moment where they were pulled out by burly security guards and locked away for life for a crime that only lawyers could conceive and convict on. 

Instead the speakerphone crackled into life as Lindsey sat in his chair, spinning to look out over the city, while he listened to his voice mail messages. There was nothing of any great importance, a reminder of a meeting and a confirmation for dinner reservations. For a moment, Lindsey watched the cityscape, the bright lights of the cars speeding through the dark streets, various neon signs and lights.  It never failed to fascinate him. Still, he had dinner reservations and he was in danger of being more than fashionably late.  He turned back to the desk, absently turning off the speakerphone and frowned.  The framed photograph had fallen down.  Inching his chair closer to the desk, he reached over and righted the fallen picture.  That done, he stood and pushed in his chair, ready to leave.

Angel saw the chair coming and he couldn't do anything to stop its forward movement without attracting attention to both of them.  His hand clamped down on Willow's mouth an instant before the solid arm of the chair struck her brow, her hot breath running over his hand as it escaped her in a solid blast.  The tear fell a moment later and Angel silently cursed, listening as Lindsey walked away.  The salty scent of her tear mixed with that of blood and Angel glanced down, she was bleeding from a small gash above her eye.  The gash earned only a transient glance, his attention was captured by the helter skelter of their legs, or rather Willow’s.  He was blatantly staring at the black lace tops against her pale thighs. Even as the lights went out and the door clicked behind Lindsey, he still stared…or rather he waited, sure he was staring as he waited, but he was just making certain that the lawyer had left.  Then and only then did he release his hold on Willow. 

"Ow," she hissed, scrambling out from under the desk, her hand flying up to assess the damage.  "This is just great."

"Let me see," offered Angel.

"I'm fine," Willow dismissed him, turning away.

"You're bleeding," he stated the obvious and Willow turned back to him.

"I know."

Angel shook his head.  "Then you're not fine."

"Angel, just..." she pulled her hand down, not able to see in the darkened office, but she could feel the dampness on her fingers.  Shaking her head, she stepped toward the desk, waving the vampire aside as she reached over to turn the screen back on.  "Get out of the way so we can finish this and get the hell out of here."

Angel backed away. He could understand how being struck in the head with a chair while hiding out under a lawyers desk with a vampire could put a girl on edge and he was more than willing to give her space. For some reason, he didn't think that was the main thing that was bothering her.  Maybe she did have plans after all. 

Damn, he hated it when Cordelia was right.

"Willow, I'm sor..."

"I don't want to hear it, we're done," she pulled the briefcase that Angel had brought with them out from under the desk and packed away the things, closing it up before turning back to the computer and shutting it down as Angel looked on in stunned silence.  She was positively terse. 

Angel didn't handle terse women well.

"If he's still in the building it might be better if we split up," Willow stated and Angel frowned, wasn’t he the one who was meant to be the great strategizer?  "He knows you but he doesn't know me, means I can walk out of the building without attracting his attention while if he sees you..."

"I can fight my way out," Angel nodded in agreement.  "Okay...there's a yuppie bar on the corner, we'll meet up there."

"You know the meaning of the word yuppie?" Willow asked, truly astonished. 

Terse then cheeky...Angel hated female hormones.

"Only through association with Cordelia," Angel shrugged. "It's full of suits, we'll blend."

"Fine by me, I'll see you there," Willow smiled and picked up the briefcase. 

"Be careful, Willow," Angel said softly, opening the door for her.  "Scream if you need help, I won't be far behind you."

"My hero," sighed Willow sarcastically as she stepped out into the corridor.  Five minutes later she was rounding the corner of the lobby and slammed straight into a suited body.

"Sorry," the suit mumbled and Willow looked up to be confronted with the most kissable lips she'd ever seen, her mouth fell open.  "Are you okay?  You're bleeding."

"Huh?" and she was just charming him senseless with her intelligence and marvelous grasp of the English language.

"Here," Lindsey pulled out his handkerchief and gave it to the flustered redhead.

"Oh, umm," Willow swallowed and took the offered piece of fabric, staring at the succulent lips.

"Just," Lindsay flicked at his own eyebrow and Willow was jolted out of her stupor, bringing the cotton up to dab at the blood that was marring her face.  "What happened?"

"I...it was silly really, I was running late for...dinner," Willow struggled, trying to think of some justification rather than just admitting that the man before her had shoved a chair in her face while she was literally sitting in the arms of an Angel.  "And I got frustrated trying to do so many things at once so I could just get out of here and...and...and I fell off my chair and caught my head on the corner of the desk."

She felt like one of those domestic violence victims who stated they'd walked into a door.  Come to think of it, walking into a door would have sounded much better than falling off her chair.  The young lawyer smiled at her, or rather the plump and luscious lips smiled and it worked its way up into the blue eyes.  Why oh why were the baddies so cute?

"Well, I can understand how you feel," Lindsey's smile broadened and Willow's knees went weak.  "I thought I was out of here for tonight and realized I'd left a file in my office.  Nothing like having to come back.  Anyway, I hope you enjoy your dinner."

The luscious lips pursed together and Willow turned to watch them go, from the corner of her eye she caught sight of Angel, walking towards them and her mouth went dry.

"Wait," she reached out, catching Lindsey’s arm before he had the chance to turn away from her.

"Yes?"

"I...well...I just wanted..." she was stuck, Lindsey was directly in front of her, brow furrowed in concern, and Angel was barely a few feet behind him.  She needed to distract the lawyer long enough to let Angel walk by.  Easy.

Taking a deep breath, she dropped the briefcase, wrapped one arm around the young lawyer’s waist and tangled the other, still holding onto his handkerchief, in his hair to pull him down as she launched herself at his lips.  Not only were they plump and luscious, they were also soft, delightfully soft...and moist.  They parted in surprise and Willow gasped at the sensation before taking full advantage of the situation.  His mouth was warm and tasted of expensive whiskey.  As her tongue probed deeper, sweeping over his, a hand clamped down on her butt and pulled her up while his tongue eagerly sought out hers.  Teasing and toying, she continued to explore the delightful depths of his mouth, her hand running down over his back and coming in contact with a surprisingly tight set of butt cheeks covered by Armani and she moaned.  She couldn't breathe.

She literally couldn't breathe.

With the hand that was tangled in his hair, Willow pulled sharply and broke the kiss, both of them stumbling backwards, gasping for air.  Licking her lips, she smoothed down her hair and ran her fingers across the borrowed suit.  That done, she looked up at the disheveled Lindsay and smiled broadly.

"I just wanted to say 'Happy Valentine’s Day'," she leant over and picked up the briefcase she'd dropped.  Taking a deep breath and grinning, she turned on her heel and walked toward the huge rotating doors of the building, leaving a very stunned and thoroughly kissed Lindsey behind. 

Lindsey wasn't the only one who was stunned.  As she walked down the street, swinging the briefcase and with a jaunty little step, Angel grabbed her arm. 

"What was that all about?" he demanded, falling into step beside her. 

"It was a diversion so you could walk out the front door without him seeing you," Willow couldn't help but smile, licking her lips and looking very much like the cat that had gorged itself on fresh rich cream.

"A diversion," Angel muttered.  "Looked more like free for all grope."

Willow rolled her eyes and let out a frustrated sigh.  “What was I meant to do?  He would have seen you.”

“I could have fought my way out,” Angel declared, only to have Willow pull her arm free and turn to face him.

“We were in the lobby, there were security guards everywhere ~ it would have been an outright massacre…” she spat at him.

“Better than whoring yourself out…” he regretted the words as soon as he said them, but there was nothing he could do except wait for the escalating anger he saw brewing in the redhead.  After all, he deserved it.

“Excuse me?”  Willow’s face paled and her eyes sparked with pure anger.  “Whoring?  WHORING??  God, I come down here on Valentine’s Day to have you dress me up and drag me all over the place.  Then, when I do one thing to let you make an easy exit, you call me a whore!  You know what, you can just go to Hell.”

The briefcase slammed into his chest knocking him back and he stumbled, losing sight of the redhead as she disappeared into the Valentine Day crowd of lovers. 

“Hell’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” mumbled Angel.  In fact, he was certain there was a party in Hell and he was the guest of honor.  That could be the only explanation for this whole situation, Valentine’s Day was the day he’d been most vicious on and it was coming back to haunt him ten fold, what else could possibly explain the use of the word ‘whoring’ when talking about Willow?  Much less when he was talking to Willow! 

Unless, of course, he’d made the association with the lace top stockings…black lace top stockings at that.  Shaking his head, Angel moved through the crowds, scanning the faces and features until he found the girl he’d just insulted. He was going to purge every single thought of those damn stockings, he couldn’t blame them, he was going to blame Lindsey and those stupid lips…next time he saw the little shit he was going to rip them off. 

“Willow, wait,” Angel’s fingers curled about her arm and halted her movement.  As she turned to face him, her face flushed and bottom lip trembling, he couldn’t help it…the stockings just popped back into his mind.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“No, you didn’t mean anything, but it doesn’t change the fact that you said it,” she pulled away from him, trying to hold back the tears.  “You know, this is just the most perfect Valentine’s Day I’ve ever had, I come to LA, break into a law firm, steal files, get hit in the head and then get called a whore…” she shook her head and furiously wiped away the tear that had fallen to her cheek.  “What next?”

“Cordelia said I had to take you to dinner,” Angel offered, thinking it might pacify the poor girl.  There was a moment of silence and he could see conflicting emotions swirling in the green eyes as they fixed on him, and he braced himself, not quite sure which emotion she was going to settle on. 

“What did she threaten you with?” it was a quiet question filled with genuine interest and a hint of amusement. 

Angel dropped his head guiltily.  “Washing my sheets in Holy Water.”

Angel glanced back up at her, her half smile wavering as she closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands.  This was not looking good.  Her shoulders started shaking and Angel’s eyes widened.  This was really not looking good, he hated girls crying especially if he was the cause.  Then she threw back her head and laughed, it wasn’t just a little giggle but a whole hearted laugh that made her gasp for breath and Angel couldn’t help it, his mouth twitched and he found himself smiling. Although he was quite certain that one night he’d slip between his bed sheets only to find that Cordy had actually carried out her threat…then it wouldn’t be quite so funny.  Still gasping for breath through the giggles, Willow wiped away the tears as Angel smirked down at her.

“I hate to tell you this, Angel, but you aren’t taking me to dinner…you’re going to have to suffer Holy Water in the rinse cycle,” she smiled as the smirk fell from his lips and his eyes darkened, he was ready to make a protest when she cut him off. “Honestly, I just want to go home so I can participate in one of the great traditions of this wonderful day.”

“What, sit alone in the dark and brood?” asked Angel incredulously.

“Exactly.”

“You can’t do that,” Angel said solemnly, he was sure of one thing after he’d made such a cock and bull of her day, she didn’t deserve to be sitting alone in the dark. “I’m the one who sits in the dark and broods…what am I meant to do if you take over?”

“You can participate in one of the other great traditions of today,” Willow offered.

Angel frowned, Valentine’s Day was a day of torture, fucking or self-flagellation, was he missing something? “Send an anonymous Valentine?”

Willow laughed again and shook her head.  “No, go out and drown your miseries, you could literally turn the sainted day into a holiday from your brooding ~ it’d do you good.”

“Sounds better than sitting alone in the dark,” Angel halfheartedly agreed.  He glanced around at the still milling crowds before turning his attention back to the Witch.  “Tell you what, I’ll do it if you join me.”

“What?  Have a drink?”

“No, drown your sorrows, isn’t that what you said specifically?”

“I believe I used the term ‘miseries’, Anyway, last time I drowned my sorrows I…err…” she shifted uncomfortably, she didn’t want to be standing in front of the vamp when she told him that she’d made Buffy and Spike declare their undying love and announce their impending marriage.  Somehow she didn’t think Angel would see the funny side, come to think of it, she really couldn’t see the funny side to it either.  “It ended…badly.”

“Well, you know I’m not letting you out of town tonight, it’s simply not safe for you to travel back to Sunnydale alone in the middle of the night,” Angel was ready with the whole ‘young women shouldn’t travel alone at night anyway’ speech should she make some protest.  Surprisingly enough, she stayed quiet and he gave her his best puppy dog eyes.  “So we can either go to a nice bar and drown our sorrows, or we go back to my apartment, each take a chair and see who out broods who…and I’m betting I’ll win.”

“Your thought process is strange and disturbing at times,” Willow stated as she tilted her head to give him one of her patented resolve face looks.  “You’re also forgetting that I’m under age.”

“Not in England or Australia, so come on,” Angel grabbed her hand and briskly led her towards the nearest bar.  “I’ve never understood that, the legal age of consent is 16 and by 18 you lot are voting but you have to wait until you’re 21 to drink alcohol?  If you’re old enough to have sex and vote then you’re more than capable of making a conscious decision about consuming alcohol.  Besides which, alcohol is the best way to clean your mouth out ~ you never know where Lindsey’s had his…”

“Angel!” chastised Willow as they entered the bar.  “You’re getting rude in your old age…nothing more than a cranky old man ~ undoubtedly you’re turning Cordelia gray.”

“Lord forbid,” Angel stated mockingly, rolling his eyes as they took a seat at the bar.  “She’d make me pay her compensation.  Let’s partake in this wonderful tradition,” he caught the attention of the bar tender.  “Two…” he paused and looked down at Willow who was nervously shifting on her stool.  “What are we going to drink?”

Willow raised her eyebrows, Angel was actually asking her?  Shaking her head, she turned away to look at the bottles arranged around the bar. Nothing stood out as appealing and considering that most of her drinking experience came from lite beer, she couldn’t name a drink she preferred. 

“I don’t know,” shrugged Willow, she was assuming it was a joke, but she’d play along to amuse him. “We could start from the beginning and work our way through ~ left to right?”

“Perfect,” Angel turned back to the barman and took out a wad of cash.  He hadn’t been drunk in a very long time and this was as good as excuse as ever. Like Willow had said, he could use some time off from brooding and since she was stuck with him for the night she’d probably find it easier to stand a slightly pissed version rather than the usual dark broody one. “You heard the lady, left from right, single shot for her and double for me.  Keep them coming until this,” he held up too much money for it to be a joke and Willow audibly gulped.  “Runs out.”

“Are you serious?” asked Willow, eyeing the pile of cash before wildly staring at the vampire. 

“Deadly.”

“Again, your thought process is strange and unusual,” Willow stated, frowning at the slight twitch of his lips. Biting her bottom lip, she considered the situation for a moment. You had to experience everything at least once and this seemed the perfect opportunity to try getting drunk, at least she wouldn’t make a fool of herself in front of anyone but Angel…maybe it wasn’t such a good idea.  She glanced back up at him and sighed, he had that same look on his face ~ the one that had made her don the suit she was wearing.  “Okay, if we are going to do this can we please get a table so I don’t fall too far, ‘cause this bar stool is way too high for my liking.”

“I’ll bring the drinks over,” offered the barman. He’d seen the exact same scene so many times before, work mates consoling each other on being alone on Valentine’s Day ~ generally he saw them again three months later…arguing over who’d meant to be responsible for protection. 

“So…” Willow frowned as Angel, showing off his perfect gentlemanly manners, stood behind her and held her chair as she sat down.  “Is this the point in time where we both start making polite small talk, like the weather, the state of the country…”

“Anything but Valentine’s Day, right?” Angel asked, taking the seat opposite her and dumping the briefcase in one of the other seats.

“I hate Valentine’s Day,” Willow stated as the bartender brought over the first round of various multi-colored alcoholic shots and placed them in front of the two.  Easily clearing his tray, the barman left the two to their misery and Angel picked up a drink.

“We’ll make a toast,” Angel insisted, waving his free hand at the shots lined up in front of Willow and waited until she randomly picked up one.  “To the spirit of…” Angel frowned for a moment, musing over the idea of the toast.  “The anti-Valentine.”

Willow giggled and raised her glass, clinking it against his and hesitantly took a sip of the spirit, wincing at the bitter taste while Angel easily threw his back.  The empty glass was discarded and he chose another, taking a generous sip before turning his full attention back to the redhead as she twisted her drink about in her hands.

“Why do you hate it?  Valentine’s Day, I mean,” he leant back and took another sip of his drink, effectively finishing the double shot.  Willow shrugged and glanced about the bar they were in. There were more than a decent number of reminders of what the whole day was about, couples littered the place and nearly every booth was taken by some couple hoping that the dim lights would offer privacy to their canoodling.

“It’s just…I don’t know, it’s like this huge glaring neon sign saying exactly what I don’t have anymore…” she turned away from the multiple petting displays only to find that the dark haired vampire was perusing over the various lovers as well, and she supposed that the day wasn’t any easier for him for similar reasons.  “You know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” he picked up his third shot and downed it effortlessly.

“You know,” Willow once more glanced about the bar, skimming over the couples that were either lip locked, copping a feel or doing something else that really wasn’t suitable for a public place.  “There should be some warning that sex is addictive.”

The comment, so utterly un-Willow-like and hardly the train of thought that Angel had expected her to be taking, was a shock.  So much so that the leisurely sip he was taking of his fourth drink turned into a gulp that caused him to choke.  Through the coughing and spluttering, he shot her a look.  Her bowed head and flaming cheeks made it obvious that the comment was something she’d absently verbalized and he couldn’t help it, he had to chuckle.  It was only a small sound, hardly audible and brief in its existence, but Willow heard it and her embarrassment gave way to anger.

“What?” demanded Willow, glaring at him.

“I was just wondering where they’d put the warning labels,” he was trying, unsuccessfully, to hold back an idiotic smirk and he could see her anger diminish, quickly being replaced by curiosity.  It was easy to read her, see her musing over the point as she brought her hand up to cover her snort of laughter and Angel took another sip of his drink.  “Guess they could tattoo it in huge letters across various body parts…”

Willow broke down, erupting into laughter.  “How painful would that be?”

“Certainly put you off having sex,” Angel smiled as he finished off his shot and reached for another. 

“That would be of the good,” Willow agreed, taking another sip of her drink.

“You miss it that much?”

“Well…yeah,” Willow shrugged and fiddled with her shot as Angel downed another.  She didn’t pay any heed to the vampire, didn’t know that he was watching her thoughtfully.  There were too many other things to distract her as she considered the question.  She watched, transfixed as a couple shared a careless caress, fingers whispering over skin and material while their lips met, the perfect picture of love and passion.  But to Willow the embrace was more than that.  “I think…perhaps I miss the intimacy of it, the physical contact.”

“Are you lonely?”

“What?” the question had seemed to come out of nowhere and Willow couldn’t conceive the loss of intimacy being related to loneliness, but as she met with sorrowful brown eyes, its theory seemed understandable.  Willow shook her head and smiled at him.  “No, oh no, I’m not lonely. I have my friends and family, but…”

“But it’s not the same.”

“No, it’s not,” she blushed and ducked her head back down.  The last thing she wanted was Angel feeling sorry for her.  “I’m sure you know what I mean since you…” she paused for a moment, certain that Angel wouldn’t want a tactless reminder that he could never be with his one true love.  “Well, you’re kind of…umm…let’s just say that you’ve had more practical experience at the whole abstinence thing.”

“Yeah, a hundred years and then some of celibacy,” Angel downed yet another shot, the empty glass hit the table and he shook his head.  “It’s a bitch.”

“Exactly! And what makes it a bitch?  The fact that you know what you’re missing.  That beautiful feeling of truly being as one with another person.  You know what?  It isn’t even that, it’s everything, the physical sensations, like the way your skin feels when it’s touched or kissed…”

“The taste,” chimed in Angel, picking up yet another shot.  “Of sweat on flesh, that glorious sensation of heat that runs through you.”

“And the sounds, the way panting breaths and moans kind of intensify the sensations,” Willow closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  “God, running your hands over solid flesh and holding on tight…”

“The sound of flesh slapping against flesh as you…” Angel’s eyes glazed over and he licked his lips.  This was a bad turn in the way of conversation, especially since the black lace top stockings were coming to the forefront of his mind…playing more than a little part in a semi pornographic, oh hell, purely pornographic vision of what Valentine’s Day was meant to be about.  He shook his head, trying to will away the stockings.  “Stop torturing yourself.”

“Yeah, it’s probably the worse thing to do, dwell on it and actually verbalize what I’m missing,” Willow giggled and drained the remainder of her first shot.  In doing so, she totally missed the confused look that Angel shot her, since he’d actually been talking more to himself than her, although he supposed it was relevant to both of them.  He watched as she picked up another shot and, following his rather scary example, threw it back. 

Willow nearly choked on the bittersweet alcohol, straight shots were never good and she was beginning to think that her ‘left to right’ suggestion might have been a bad idea.  Frowning, she set the glass aside and counted the empty glasses on the table.  There were more than she thought possible, but they were rapidly being cleared away by the attentive barman and being replaced with full ones.  Picking up her third shot for the night, she took a sip and wondered, as Angel threw back his drink like it was a shot of blood, how much alcohol he had to consume before it affected him.  At the moment, she was feeling giggly from two and bit shots, he’d down far more than that and he seemed perfectly sober…except for the course the general course the conversation was taking.

“But that shouldn’t be a problem for you,” Angel stated, blinking at the drinks on the table, quite sure that they had been mostly empty a moment back.  He shrugged and picked up another.  “It’s not like you can’t have sex.”

“Well, no,” Willow agreed, finishing off her third shot in one gulp and wincing as it burnt a path down her throat.  She set aside the glass and grinned up at the vampire. “But I have to find someone I want to have sex with.”

A sound of disbelief left Angel and his brow furrowed as he picked up another shot.  “And that’s a problem?”

“They also need to want to have sex with me,” Willow was suddenly hit by the absurdity of the whole conversation and laughed lightly.  “That’s where I tend to run into difficulties.”

“Oh please,” said Angel, sounding too much like Cordelia for his own liking, as he slumped back into his chair.  “A girl like you, any guy would be willing to jump in the sack with you.”

“Uh huh,” Willow sounded skeptical, it wasn’t a self-demeaning remark, she didn’t question her appeal.  It wasn’t about that.  “It’s not really like I could go out and, I don’t know, sleaze onto some guy ~ I really couldn’t do that.  Guess I’m an old fashioned girl at heart, there has to be some sort of connection before you…” she glanced up at the vampire, the word sex seemed to have been thrown about far too much already.  “Well, you know.  I couldn’t sleep with a stranger just for a quick fix type thing.”

“I can understand that,” Angel agreed, glancing up and coming face to face with a thoroughly dejected Willow, intently studying her drink.  “That doesn’t make you a bad person, Willow.  It’s nice to see a girl with…” He couldn’t think of a word that seemed suitable for what he was trying to say.

“Morals?” Willow suggested, laughing as she shook her head.

“I was going to say standards, but I guess you could say morals if you wanted.  Anyway, you make that sound like a bad thing,” Angel insisted, picking up another shot and slowly sipping it.  That’s when he noticed that she wasn’t drinking her shots.  “You’re falling behind…with your drinks I mean, not in the way of sex or anything…” he coughed slightly and took another sip. 

“That’s alright, Angel,” Willow reassured him with a cheeky grin.  “I’m pacing myself.”

He wasn’t too sure if she meant alcohol or sex, either way, it didn’t seem entirely right that she should have to pace herself.  Especially if she was missing it.

“I’m sure that one of your friends would be more than happy to help you out…” he blurted out and was met with startled green eyes that were rapidly widening. In shock, disbelief or utter horror, Angel wasn’t too sure ~ they were just getting bigger. He had a sudden urge to explain himself.  “I mean, if you ever felt that you really needed to…you know, enjoy the physical intimacy that’s related to…I’m sure if you were to just ask, they’d be more than willing to…”

“Angel,” Willow fixed her eyes on him, her resolve face firmly in place.  “Will you have sex with me?”

It was unfortunate that he’d chosen that moment to take another sip of his drink, the result was instantaneous ~ he was coughing and spluttering again.  Had he been able to he would have blushed for the simple reason that he’d never thought that Willow considered him that kind of friend.

“I…it’s…well…err…of course I’m flattered…I mean who wouldn’t be flattered and everything…” Angel stopped when he heard her giggle.

“Oh, if only you could see your face right now!” insisted Willow, laughing at the still shocked vampire.  Wiping away the tears of pure mirth, she picked up another shot and took a sip, managing not to wince this time.  “See, it works well in theory, but put it into practice and it simply doesn’t work.  Anyway, who am I going to ask?  Xander is involved with Anya, an ex-vengeance demon who is extremely clingy and protective, Giles is…well Giles is Giles and I think he’d have a heart attack if I asked him. Doesn’t really leave anyone else, no one that I’d trust.”

Angel frowned, that was a new word for him to associate with meaningless sex, not that Willow was talking about meaningless sex, but in all his human philandering years he’d never considered trust to be an important aspect of getting the leg over.  Sweet words, empty promises and making sure he was out of their beds before they woke, unless they were a good cook, then he’d stay for breakfast, they were the only factors that had been of importance to him.  Ironically, the same things had really applied when he’d done the deed with Buffy, crawling out of that warm bed wasn’t something he enjoyed dwelling on.  “Trust is important for you?”

“Of course,” she gave him a halfhearted smile as she shrugged her shoulders and broke his gaze to once more glance about at the canoodling couples.  “It’s too easy to get hurt.”

Angel was silent for a moment, a moment where he felt completely uneasy.  His first thought had been that she meant emotionally, but then, when he considered the emotional content of a one-night stand, he couldn’t help but turn to the idea of physical pain.  Trust would be important in that respect, especially since, as he glanced back up at her, there was nothing to her and without Slayer strength she’d be pretty much at the mercy of a larger, stronger male.  It was something he’d never thought of, that a girl like Willow was vulnerable.  Guiltily, he shifted in his seat, picking up another shot to down.  In his hey day as Angelus, Willow was exactly the sort of girl he’d enjoy torturing and he knew from his time in the world that it wasn’t just demons that got off on causing others pain.  The drink was effortlessly thrown back and the glass carelessly put back on the table, and another was picked up.  For the first time he wondered exactly how badly Oz had hurt her, he’d heard things about another wolf, of the two running wild together and who knew what the animal had done during those three nights.

Willow was distracted from her perusal of the lovers by a deep and distinctive growl.  She glanced up at the vampire, only to be met with amber eyes and she gasped.  “Angel?”

“Did he ever hurt you?” the question was grunted at her from between clenched teeth.

“What?”

“Oz…” stated Angel, the vivid images of the wolf’s destruction dancing through his mind if the answer was in the affirmative.  “Did he ever lay a finger on you?  ‘Cause if he did I’m going to track the bastard down, rip his balls off and shove them so far up his ass that ‘cough’ in a medical examination will take on a whole new meaning…”

“No, he didn’t,” Willow stated flatly, dropping her eyes down to her drink and trying to will away the tears.  She knew that drinking on St Valentine’s Day was a bad idea and she glanced back up at the glowering vampire.  “Don’t tell me you’re a mean drunk, Angel?”

“What?” Angel frowned, his eyes returning to their normal chocolate brown and suddenly it him.  For all his growling, posturing and threats, he’d made her feel threatened and he’d brought up the very person she was trying to get over.  “No, Willow.  I’m sorry, I just got to thinking about what you said and I…I over reacted.  I don’t like the idea of you getting hurt.”

“Really?” sniffed Willow, her eyes were glassy from tears and she was slurring slightly.  It would be later that she’d reflect that she really was only a two-drink person.  She reached out blindly for Angel’s hand, finally finding it amongst the sea of shots and empty glasses.  “That’s so…” the tears started falling and she hiccupped. “Sweet.”

“Hey, don’t cry,” Angel insisted, giving her hand a squeeze and finishing off another shot.  “If you start crying, then I’ll cry and trust me, it’s not a pretty sight when I cry…there’s mucus involved and it gets really messy.”

“Mucus?” Willow frowned at him, her lip curling back in disgust.  “Eww.”

“Exactly, it’s very eww,” Angel assured her, nodding and picking up another drink.  “There’s snot and drool, not to mention the whole sounding like a seal…”

Willow giggled.  “A seal?”

“Yeah, I start crying and seals think it’s some kind of mating call,” Angel grinned at her and threw back his drink as the redhead dissolved in a fit of giggles.  She was crying again, but at least this time it was in mirth rather than misery. 

“Oh, that’s too funny…I can just see a bunch of seals following you around looking at you like you’re some kind of sex god,” Willow wiped away the tears and shook her head. 

“Can you blame them?” he gave her a lopsided smirk and she had to have another drink to stop from laughing again.  The moment of mirth was over and as she sipped on her drink, Willow couldn’t help but glance at the ever-diminishing couples in the bar.  They were slowly leaving, undoubtedly off to a romantic dinner or simply going somewhere they could make love. 

“I loathe and detest Valentine’s Day,” she murmured.

"You know what," Angel ducked his head to swallow back a belch.  "St Valentine was probably one of those guys who rode 'round cutting off heads and body parts in the name of god...in fact, I bet he ripped out hearts and collected them..." he turned, seeing the redhead’s eyes firmly fixed on him, mild horror reflected in the green depths. "What?"

"You really can't get away from the fact that you're a vampire," Willow stated, giving him a lopsided smile and shaking her head slightly.  Leaning forward, she urged him to do the same.  "There were two Valentine’s, both martyrs...don't know how they became the patron saint of lovers though...oh hang on," Willow crinkled her nose up, thinking hard and Angel smiled.  "One of them was meant to perform weddings when it was illegal...or something...but it's stupid.  Valentine’s Day should be Cupid’s Day."

"Won't work," stated Angel, picking up another shot glass.  "Cupid’s a god and he's Greek at that.  Got to be a saint and saints can't be Greek gods."

"Why not?"

"Sacrilegious," Angel slurred, frowning at his empty glass, did he really drink it that quickly?  "There's only one god, blah, blah, blah, so making a Greek god a saint wouldn't work...actually don’t saints have to be human anyway?” he didn’t wait for an answer before shrugging it off, he’d never really paid much attention to the catechism. “So that rules out the possibility of making a god a saint."

"Okay, my brain's not working," muttered Willow.  "Or you're not making sense."

"I'm making sense," protested Angel.  "It's the stupid saints that don't make sense...their days are all out of whack and so is their patronage."

"Huh?"

"Take St Patrick..."

"He's the patron saint of Ireland," Willow offered, smiling at her own brilliance.

"And the fucker wasn't even Irish!"

Willow's mouth fell open as the dark haired vampire drained his glass, dropped it down on the table and picked up another.  "You just swore..."

"Did not."

"You did too, you said 'and the fucker wasn't even Irish', you swore!" she'd heard mild curses from the vampire but never the 'f' word.

"Well it's true, the bastard wasn't.  He wasn't even English ~ his parents were Romans living in Britain, in charge of the colonies," Angel insisted, sloshing his drink about as he gestured wildly. "And he's a fucking bastard...that whole ran the snakes out of Ireland crap...just a fancy metaphor for saying he drove the pagans from Ireland.  What's wrong with pagan religions?  Nothing, at least they're damn more fun than Christianity...you're a witch, you should hate St Patrick..."

Willow smiled, he was more than halfway pissed, the hint of an Irish brogue coming through in his words and the choice of language was definitely un-Angel like.  

"You know who should've been made the patron saint of Ireland?"

"No, who?" she had to ask, even though she knew she'd probably regret it.

"Samaliliath.”

Willow raised an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation.  She didn’t get one.  “Okay, why should he be the patron saint?”

“He introduced a wonderful and truly powerful tradition in Ireland...beer!" Angel stood up and raised his glass high in the air.  "To beer!"

The bar exploded into a huge cheer and Willow giggled, reaching out and pulling Angel back down even as he threw back his shot.

"You're drunk."

"I'm not drunk," he denied it, he felt perfectly fine.  He picked up another drink and threw it back.  The glass hit the table and Angel frowned for a moment, studying the residue of alcohol as it slid back down to the bottom.  He reached out for another shot, only to have Willow take it from him and he glanced up at her.  “I’ll prove it.”

Willow smiled and shook her head at him, he was actually smirking, lopsided and drunkenly.  “You’ll prove it?  How so?”

“Yes.”

Willow frowned.  “Yes?”

“Yes, I’ll have sex with you.”

“Oh my god,” laughed Willow, completely forgetting about the question she’d asked him when they’d first sat down to drink.  Continuing to giggle, she passed him back the shot of liquor and picked up one for herself.  “It’s okay, Angel.  You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

“No, no, you see I want to,” Angel reached out and caught her hand, both of his own covering hers, marveling at the delicate warm flesh.  “You’re a good friend and I want to be a good friend and show you how much I appresh…appresh…like you.”

“Angel, you cant even say appreciate, I doubt that you’d be able to…” she glanced at the still grinning vampire and wondered how to tell him about brewer’s droop.  “Well, show me.”

“What?  You think I can’t get it up? Pish tosh,” Angel released her hand and waved her away, standing unsteadily, his hands straying to his fly.

“Angel NO!” Willow hissed at him, leaning over the table to pull him back down to his chair. 

“I can do it.  I can get it up no matter what…except there was that one time, with Mary Brennan in the hay loft above their stables,” Angel frowned and picked up his drink.  “Of course that could’ve been ‘cause her husband had shoved a pitchfork in my ass the week ‘fore when he caught us together,” Angel shrugged and threw back his drink.  “Seems my uncle didn’t take kindly to being cuckolded.”

“Your uncle?  Gee, I wonder why,” Willow asked sarcastically, trying not to laugh at the image of Angel, the hellion nephew, with a pitchfork stuck in his ass. 

“See, it’s not a problem! I can get it up so we should just go have sex,” Angel smiled broadly at Willow, who shook her head in denial, and he stuck his bottom lip out.  “Why not?”

“Because…”

“Come on, it’s Valentine’s Day…lots of other people are having sex and for a lot less reason, they’re fooling themselves and each other believing they’re in love.  Pfft,” Angel waved his hand in the air, dismissing the very idea of true love.  “Let me be the good friend you’ve always been to me,” Angel insisted. Sighing, he leant his elbows on the table and cupped his face.  “You miss it, I miss it, we have parts that fit and I can guarantee you’ll have fun…let me be the perfect host to my guest…” his mouth twisted into a dark lascivious smile. “I can entertain you in ways you’ve never imagined.”

“Angel, you’re forgetting your curse,” Willow stated.  If anything his grin broadened and his eyebrows uncharacteristically waggled.

“You can chain me down and work your magic…”

“Angel,” Willow protested, shaking her head and laughing at him.  Her smile fell momentarily as he grimaced. 

“Now you have to have sex with me,” he insisted, once more cupping his face in his hands and giving her yet another of the dark lascivious smiles.  “I’ve got a raging erection just begging for attention after that little scenario.”

Willow was either too shocked or too drunk, for once in her life she was at a complete loss for words, so she said the first thing that came to mind.  “Oh, so romantic!”

“Of course,” Angel brought a hand up to his face and slapped himself as he leant back in the chair.  “You want romance!” He struggled to his feet and moved round the table to her, easily swinging her up into his arms.  “I’ve been out of the game too long…”

“Angel what are you doing?” she squealed, throwing her arms around his neck.

“Sweeping you off your feet,” he grinned and turned to the general bar area.  “I’m going home and making love to the most beautiful Witch in the world.”

Willow blushed furiously as a general raucous broke out amongst the other patrons and she moaned.  Better to get him out of there than to have herself embarrassed even more.  Then she realized that she was going to be embarrassed no matter what as he loudly started to hum something resembling something from the Bond movies.  It also reminded her of the very reason that had led her to LA in the first place.

“We can’t forget the briefcase!” Willow tugged on the lapel of his jacket to get his attention.  Still humming, he turned back to the table and leant over so she could reach out and pick up the long forgotten briefcase and the information it held. 

Embarrassment was Willow’s constant companion as Angel carried her through the streets, no argument would set her on her feet, in fact it only served to tighten the hold on her.  So she held on, one arm wrapped about his neck the other firmly holding onto the briefcase.  Thankfully, Angel’s apartment wasn’t too far away and the embarrassment was short lived, although it still made her head spin…or maybe that was the alcohol…or the fact that Angel suddenly released his vice like grip and dumped her unceremoniously on the sofa.  Shaking her head, she tossed aside the briefcase and sat up, pulling at the short skirt that had hiked up to reveal the stockings.  When she glanced back up, her mouth fell open in shock.

“What are you doing?”

“Tempting you,” slurred Angel, struggling with his jacket in what he hoped was a tantalizing striptease rather than a drunken attempt to get his clothes off. 

“Oh god!  Will you stop that?” demanded Willow, covering her face with her hands.  The jacket landed on her head, the purely animalistic male smell nearly smothered by the stench of alcohol and stale cigarette smoke from the bar.  Struggling, she pulled the jacket away in time to see Angel fling his detested tie over his shoulder, it landed haphazardly on one of the wall lights. 

“Dah, dah, de-dah, la-de-dah,” sung Angel, the tune sounding strangely like ‘Big Spender’, as he pulled his shirt tail from his pants.  Dropping his head, he smirked at Willow, who’d dissolved in a fit of giggles on the sofa, her skirt creeping up and baring the wickedly sinful lace stocking tops, and ever so slowly he started to undo the buttons. Starting from the bottom of his shirt, he worked his way up, and with every button he undid, he pulled the material apart, flashing the naked flesh at Willow with an accentuating thrust of his hips. 

Of course it only increased her mirth.  The whole thing was so un-Angel like that she had to laugh, she couldn’t have ever imagined he was capable of such an act. But there it was, Angel doing a striptease…trying to entice her.  It also explained why she’d never seen him doing anything but slow dance with Buffy ~ he simply wasn’t a good dancer. 

The last button on the shirt popped open, literally, the little button bounced over the floor and was forgotten as it came to rest.  With a half smirk, Angel pulled open one side of the shirt and wiggled at the giggling Willow.  Waggling his eyebrows, he repeated the action with the other side before releasing his hold and dropping his hands down to his belt buckle.  That’s where he ran into trouble.

“Damn, shoes,” he mumbled.  It was a stumbling point in his striptease, to take off his trousers, which he fully intended to do with in the next five minutes, he’d have to remove his shoes first or get the trousers stuck…stuck trousers wouldn’t do, he had plans that involved the freedom of his feet.  Abandoning his belt he reached down, raising up one of his legs and grabbed hold of his boot.  The thing with lace-up boots is that they don’t simply slip off, or really pull off when they are laced snugly about the ankle.  As he pulled uselessly, he started hopping, which caused him to pull even harder on the damn boot.  With a final tug, the boot came loose, flying up with the force of it all and the toe slammed into his face, right between the eyes.  His precarious position meant he fell with a thud and a grunt to the floor, spread eagle, the boot falling a moment later.

“Are you okay?” Willow was by his side before he even realized he’d fallen. 

“I think I fell.”

“Yes, the boot attacked you.  Are you okay?” she asked, all traces of frivolity gone, her voice full of concern as she knelt next to him, leaning over his fallen form and the short skirt creeping up her thighs, exposing the lace tops of the stockings. 

“I think I’m just going to lie here for a bit,” Angel murmured, his eyes fixed on the black lace design.

“That’s probably of the good,” Willow giggled, shaking her head at the fallen vampire and losing her own sense of balance so that she slumped down, her hip resting against his.  “You’ve still got a boot on.”

He frowned and lifted his head, glancing down at his feet.  His head bounced as it hit the floorboards again.  “So I have.  I’d take it off, but I don’t think I can move.”

“I think you’re drunk,” Willow giggled, patting his naked chest where the shirt fell away.  Still giggling, she pushed herself back up onto her knees and used his prostrate form to keep her balance as she haphazardly turned around.  It was Angel’s turn to giggle as she crawled down his body and straddled his legs so she could attempt to take off his boot.  It wasn’t as easy as it looked, especially in her intoxicated state.  Frowning, she leant over the boot, her fingers clumsily fiddling with the lace and Angel’s hand closed around one of her ankles.  Squealing, she glanced over her shoulder at him.  “What are you doing?”

“You’re taking off my shoe,” Angel murmured, his long fingers idly stroking her stocking-clad ankle and sneaking their way up her calf.  “I’m going to take off yours.”

One high-heeled pump went flying through the air and Willow giggled, finally managing to get his boot untied.  Loosening the laces, she easily pulled it off, but over balanced in the process and ended up sprawled across his legs.  Pushing herself back off the floor, with the prize boot still in her hand, she twisted around and grinned at the vampire, waving his boot triumphantly. 

“That’s mine,” he slurred as his fingers hooked in the other pump and pulled it off, again it went flying through the air.  In a blur of movement Angel sat up, his hands hooking behind her knees and pulling her sharply forward, so she was sitting astride his thighs.  To keep her balance, her free hand came to rest on his chest while the other, still tightly holding onto the boot, was slung about his shoulder.  Startled green eyes locked on brown, barely inches from each other.

“Wow, you move fast even when you’re drunk,” Willow told him, her alcohol-laden breath whispering across his lips and he smirked.

“I’m not that drunk.”

“I think I am,” Willow dissolved into a fit of giggles and brought her free hand up to cover her face.  Or maybe she dropped her head down, she wasn’t too sure and at first, she wasn’t too sure that Angel was nuzzling her neck.  That was until he found that wickedly sensitive spot just behind her ear ~ then she was certain.  Frowning, she stopped giggling.  “Umm, Angel…what are you doing?”

“Foreplay,” he murmured, never ceasing his ministrations.  The vibration of his voice against the spot made Willow whimper, her legs melting away as her eyes fluttered closed and she was thankful she was already on the floor ~ it would have been terribly embarrassing to have fallen.

“Um,” the frown deepened.  “Angel?”

“Mmm,” his tongue swept over the spot and he could feel her shudder.

“Foreplay would, you know, imply that there is going to be play,” Willow had to force herself to breathe, especially when his fingers started to stroke her leg, working their way up from her ankle to the curve of her knee. “Which most people would take as sex.”

“Isn’t that what you asked for?” he murmured against her ear, sucking on the lobe and running his free hand down over her back where it lingered on the swell of her bottom.

“Yeah,” she released the boot and it fell with a loud thud to the floor. Neither of them heard it, and she wondered when exactly her other hand had started to caress his chest.  “But I think I was joking.”

“Okay,” agreed Angel, never stopping his languid exploration of her neck with his mouth.  A soft sigh escaped his lips as both her warm hands traipsed across his skin.

“Angel,” she panted, rolling her head back and exposing her throat to his eager mouth.

“Mmm?” his hand wandered across her stomach and two fingers slipped between the folds of her jacket, deftly undoing the first button.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, closing her eyes and lightly dragging her nails along his side.

“Okay,” Angel growled, growing impatient and yanking the second button of her jacket open as his lips found hers.  He could taste the alcohol on her lips, could almost distinguish the different shots she’d consumed, and his tongue leisurely lapped at the soft flesh, ever so slowly teasing her lips apart so he could suck the whole of her bottom lip between his.  He was quite content to nibble and suck, but she was pulling away.

“Wait, wait, wait,” she insisted, breaking the kiss as the third and final button of the jacket was opened, and leaving Angel kissing the air.  She shook her head, trying to clear the lust and alcohol induced fog.  “We can’t ~ what about your curse?”

“I’m drunk,” Angel assured her, pulling on one arm of the jacket and exposing her rounded shoulder to his ravenous mouth.  He shrugged as he attacked the bared flesh.  “No one has a moment of true happiness when they’re drunk.”

“You’re not that drunk,” Willow stated, risking a brief glance down to prove that he certainly wasn’t affected by brewers droop.

“Alright,” Angel pulled on the other arm of the jacket and it fell to the floor, only to be tossed aside by the vampire.  “I promise I’ll feel guilty the whole time.”

“Promise?” Willow asked him as she took a deep, ragged breath.

“Absolutely,” he stated, tearing his eyes away from the tiny cami top that he was certain stood between him and heaven. Looking her directly in the eye, he dragged his fingers across his chest. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Willow giggled and raised one of her hands to the place he’d marked.  “You’re already dead.”

“True” he shrugged, his hands dropping down to cup her arse and shift her slightly closer.  “And I already feel guilty and we haven’t even done anything.”

“Really?” Willow asked, pouting at him and all trace of humor left her.

“Yeah.”

“Good,” she tangled her fingers in his dark hair and pulled his lips back to hers, eagerly opening her mouth.  Once more Angel applied himself to the tactile exploration of her lips with his, nibbling and sucking while his tongue teased, but never penetrated.  And Willow was eating it all up. In brief moments where their open mouths would part, she’d gasp for air and try in vain to remember to breathe through her nose.  Not that she had much opportunity to think while her hands wandered over his chest and back, more often than not they ended up dropping down to rub his trouser covered erection.  Nor could she really concentrate on the important things when Angel’s hands were just as busy.  Suddenly, she was struck by a very important thought and she reluctantly pushed him away.  “Wait, wait, wait…” she panted, focusing on the lips that were now making love to nothing but vacant air.  “No penetration.”

“Oh god,” Angel moaned, dropping his head down to her shoulder.  “I’m drunk…or old…or this is some perverse reality…no penetration?”

“With the fangs,” Willow assured him, her fingers tangling in his hair to pull him away from her shoulder.  “You can bite, but no actual penetration.  Okay?”

“Now that makes sense,” Angel grinned lasciviously, and then the smile fell into a frown. “But the other penetration is…”

“Very much in demand,” Willow nodded eagerly.

“Good,” Angel launched himself at her lips again.  At least this time his tongue got to explore her warm mouth for a few minutes before she was pushing him away again, his mouth dropping down to molest her throat.  It was a bad move for Willow, who was trying to gain some type of control over the situation, and she had no choice but to gurgle and roll her head back.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Willow hissed, her hands pushing against his chest.  Once again, he found himself kissing air and opened his eyes to focus on the redhead.  “You’re still feeling guilty?”

“Incredibly so.”

“Oh,” Willow gave him a brilliant smile, crinkling her nose in the most adorable way that he was tempted to nip at it.  “Good.”

The next thing he knew he was flat on his back, Willow’s mouth smashed against his and their teeth gnashed together.  It was not the smoothest move in the world of romance or straight out porn, but it was a common mistake.

“Ow,” hissed Willow, pulling back and running her tongue across her teeth, quite sure that she’d broken at least one of them.  “Note to self, never involve teeth clashing in kissing…”

“You okay?” Angel asked, cupping her face and she nodded.  With a smile that would have had Spike swearing black and blue that Angelus was back, Angel tangled a fist in her hair and pulled her back down to him, placing a gentle and chaste kiss against her lips.  “Good.”

It was the last kiss that she’d receive from the vampire that wasn’t accompanied by some sort of action involving his tongue.  The world was spinning and Willow lost her superior position as Angel rolled them, his hand tangled in her hair protecting her head from the hard floor.  She was gurgling again as his tongue delved into her mouth, the tip of his tongue making long languid strokes of hers before dipping down under her tongue to press against the soft flesh.  For a moment, there was nothing but that penetrating kiss and Angel was quite content to thoroughly explore her mouth, to continue their tongue wrestling match, but something was playing havoc with him.

The stockings.

Those barely black, silk, lace tops were beckoning to him and one of his hands dropped down to her knee, indolently stroking the soft material and working its way up until the sensitive fingertips left the soft gossamer thread to explore the heavily textured lace design.  It was then that Angel decided he was in trouble. All sorts of deviant and lascivious thoughts centered on those stockings.  His mind wandered, coming up with various scenarios.  Like using the stockings to bind her hands together and gag her, stifling the screams he was certain she was going to make.  But then the thoughts turned darker, the moment of passion almost spent and one stocking tightened about her throat, strangling the scream of terror.  Just as quickly as her life snuffed out the image changed and this time, oh dear lord, this time it was wickedly delightful.  The stockings were part of a costume that could only be described as some twisted version of a school ma’am, spiked boots, black leather mini matched with a skimpy white shirt, unbuttoned to reveal a lacy bra, and the three most vivid images of the fantasy ~ a mortarboard hat, academic gown and rattan cane.  It was all he could do to stop from begging her to spank him because he’d been a very naughty boy.

A silk clad foot caressed his achingly hard cock and Angel was brought back to reality.  Somehow, during the course of his fantasizing, they’d both lost their shirts and his pants were open.  She was still lying on the hard floor, one foot rested against his bunched up thigh, the other was fervently rubbing against his crotch, or maybe he was rubbing against her foot as he held it firmly in place.  He wasn’t too sure and he glanced up at her face, it was a picture of pure drunken lust, eyes half closed and lips parted as she panted. 

“Don’t stop,” she moaned, thrusting her hips up and shoving Angel’s head back down to the lace that adorned her thighs.  Never one to refuse a lady, his tongue instinctively traced over the pattern of the lace, which was already practically saturated with saliva.   She was squirming beneath his mouth, inching herself down, or maybe he was pulling her. Either way, his mouth was moving over the lace and suddenly it disappeared from beneath his lips and replaced by delicious warm, pale flesh. 

Soft, delicate flesh that quivered beneath his mouth and that Angel could just devour.  Not that Willow was objecting in any way, shape or form.  Her fingers were buried in his dark hair, pulling and tugging him closer, making sure he couldn’t pull away. While she was thoroughly enthralled by what Angel was doing, Willow wasn’t exactly passive in her actions.  The silk clad foot that had been thrust between his legs, teasing his hard cock, was busy pushing down his trousers, stripping him of the last vestige of clothing while her other leg was thrown over his shoulder, opening herself up to his ministrations. His hands wrapped about her thighs, pulling her down as he buried his head between her legs, his mouth devouring the flesh, occasionally running across the lace of the stockings and the cotton of her panties. 

Plain white cotton bikini panties and Angel sighed, blindly rubbing his head against the material.  There was nothing like natural fiber to capture the true scent of a woman.  Satin and other man made fibers soured the natural taste, spoiled the scent, starved it of air and made it a stagnant stench.  But cotton, Angel mused as his mouth opened wide and he licked and sucked the crotch of her panties, inducing the most rapturous sounds from Willow, cotton didn’t do that.  There was nothing off about the engaging scent the permeated the panties, it was unique to Willow and as he sucked against the dampening crotch, it was heavenly sweet. 

Although not quite as heavenly as what Willow’s legs were doing in those wonderful, wonderful stockings.  Since Angel’s trousers had been well and truly removed, well not quite, one leg was still hooked about his foot, her leg had returned to his groin, the delicious friction was beginning to take its toll and he found himself humping her leg like some oversexed dog that embarrassed its owners.  Her other leg was driving him insane, caressing his back while the foot kept dipping down to run over his ass.  His hands moved over heated flesh until they collided with the bunched up skirt around her waist.  A skirt that he would have happily torn away, was planning to until her little heel dug in hard against his ass and the hold tightened on his hair, pulling him in against her as she thrust up into his mouth.  Dragging his teeth across the cotton, he nipped at the hard clit that was safely hidden by her panties and the result was instantaneous. The cry was the first thing he was aware of, echoing around the quiet lounge room, a sound of ecstasy.  The second was the taste, the cotton becoming sweeter and damper, and finally there was that small blissful pain of her fingers sharply pulling on his hair and her crotch being ground into his face.

Angel waited, his tongue laving the damp panties as Willow came down from her carnal high, tremors wracking her thighs that were basically wrapped about his head.  As her hold on his hair loosened and her leg dropped down from his back, his hold on her bunched up skirt tightened, the fists tangling in the material and ripping it away.  Willow squealed, the sound breaking down into giggles as Angel licked and kissed his way up from her panties, his tongue lapping at her naked flesh and swirling about her bellybutton. With every forward motion he made, quickly skimming over her torso with his mouth and crawling over her body, she became a counterpart, moving backwards until she collided with a solid chair and his mouth locked on hers.  They were still moving together, Angel’s arms wrapping about her waist and lifting her up into his lap as he knelt before her and the chair.  Then they were stuck, the chair ensuring that their floor surfing had come to an end.  Not that either of them were complaining, they were too busy with another tongue wrestling match to worry about it. 

At least they were until Angel became aware of the most incredible sensation he’d ever experienced.  Willow was pinching his nipples, her thumb nails pressing down on the hard nubs of flesh while they were cradled against her fingers, effectively creating a clamp like hold on the dusky nipples and he moaned.  That was the thing about being drunk, everything felt so amazing.  The senses were both heightened and dulled at once, and reality became perverted. What would normally have a person wiggling in delight suddenly became the most ecstatic and blissful thing in the world.  Or maybe it was just that one of her hands had left his nipples and dropped down, wrapping about his throbbing cock to stroke it, causing him to thrust up, his head thrown back in pleasure.  At that point in time, with her blunt teeth nipping and biting at the muscles in his neck before her lips kissed them better, Angel didn’t know or care, he was too drunk and too wrapped up in what she was doing to worry about anything else.  Then there was wickedly warm breath on his ear and Angel was lost, another long groan of pleasure left him and one of his hands tangled in her hair, holding on for dear life. 

With a final suck on his earlobe, Willow worked her way back down his throat, her tongue zigzagging across the muscles as they flexed. She bit his Adam’s apple, her tongue laving the bump, as a growl vibrated under her mouth and suddenly there was nothing.  Angel had pushed her back against the chair and pulled her hands away from his body.  For a moment they were both still, Willow from uncertainty and Angel from wonderment.  He was naked, she was not ~ it was time to rectify that difference. 

Reaching out, Angel ran the back of his pinkie over the soft material of her bra, it was a featherlike touch, but it was enough to make her gasp, pushing out her breasts against the back of his hand.  Ever so slowly, he lowered his head, his bottom lip briefly making contact with her fevered skin as his tongue rimmed the material that covered her breasts and Willow rolled her head back into the seat of the chair. She barely registered the fact that he was pulling down her bra straps, the only thing she could feel was his mouth, kissing the point where the two wires of her bra rested between her breasts, his tongue teasing the skin and then both the bra and Angel’s mouth were gone.

“Perfect,” he murmured in true admiration, sitting back and taking in the soft creamy swell of her breasts as she panted.  They were too perfect to leave alone and his mouth and hand were soon ravenously caressing them, nipping, pinching and massaging the globes as Willow clawed at him, drawing him closer, mindlessly writhing against his hard body.  As her fingers once more wrapped about his now painful erection, Angel knew that if he didn’t do something quickly he was going to disgrace himself and come all over her hand. 

With a savage growl, he pulled away from those damnably tempting breasts and picked her up.  In one fluid action, he spun her about so that she was kneeling on the chair, ass in the air while her hands gripped the back, stocking clad legs spread apart.  There was one thing wrong with the picture ~ her panties, but they were gone with one quick jerk, torn away as easily as the skirt.   Angel was quite certain that this was what the gates of heaven looked like, Saint Peter be damned!

And heaven was calling his name.  Or rather Willow was, wriggling her ass invitingly and begging.  With a wicked smirk, Angel moved forward, his hands running over her ass before wrapping about her hips and yanking her back hard against him.  Unfortunately, in his drunken state, he missed and his cock ran along her wet slit.  It didn’t really matter, both of them moaned out loud, Willow increasing her hold on the chair and Angel closing his eyes in pleasure, both at the sensation and the fact that she was pushing back against him.  Leaning over, his hands left her hips, one sneaking down to wrap under her, brushing against those perfect breasts and his hand wrapping about her throat, while the other moved between her legs to guide his unruly cock. 

Heat, sweet, blissfully wet heat.  That’s all he felt at first as the tip of his cock penetrated her.  Then that glorious heat was rocking back against him, urging him in deeper, muscles fluttering and grasping at him.  Beneath his hand around her throat, he could feel the murmurs of desire long before he heard them and they mixed with his grunt of pure pleasure as he thrust forward, deeper into that heat.  She squirmed beneath him, pushing down into his hand and back against his hips and, dear lord, the sounds she was making, it was enough to make his eyes cross in delight. 

Then Angel made the worst mistake of his life.  He lifted his leg, intending to rest his foot on the arm of the chair so that he could gain some extra leverage for the many and varied thrusts he intended to make.  Only his trousers were still caught about his foot and, as he pulled back readying to thrust deeper with the new position, the trousers tangled with the arm of the chair, pulling back his foot so that it careened off the arm of the chair, causing him to overbalance and he slammed in deep with his full weight behind the thrust. 

Willow screamed, fortunately for Angel it was in ecstasy, and she immediately pushed back against him, squirming and wriggling for all she was worth, while her muscles clenched and fluttered around his cock that had been so hard for so long.  He was fighting with himself, trying to hold back the orgasm that he could feel building up deep in his balls with every flutter her muscles made. Then, much to his horror, she dropped her head and caught his fingers in her mouth.  As soon as her tongue flicked over the sensitive tips and sucked them deeper into her mouth, he was gone.  With a roar of pure frustration and ecstasy, he came, his hips jerking roughly against hers, while he clutched at the back of the chair to stop from collapsing on top of her.

It was one of the most embarrassing moments of his long, long life.  Hell, it was even worse than his very first time, at least then he’d gotten to four thrusts under his own steam before he was spent, spilling his seed with a woman who’d been paid to be disappointed.  But this, this was totally and humiliatingly different.  Oh yeah, this was embarrassment central and he was standing in the middle of the tracks and the infamous light at the end of the tunnel?  It was a train that was about to send him to hell. 

“I…I…” he stuttered, unable to believe what had happened and unable to explain his ever softening cock that was still encased in her heat.  “This is not meant to happen.”

“It’s okay,” Willow panted, her head resting on her folded arms on the back of the chair and he pulled out of her.  Truth be told it was far from okay, but what was she going do?  Badger the poor vampire?  “These things…happen. Hey, you’re drunk, I’m drunk, it’s a drunken kind of thing. Let’s just forget…”

Willow got cut off as she was hoisted into the air, landing a moment later in the vampire’s arms.

“We’re going again,” Angel muttered, hopping and stumbling slightly as he kicked the detested trousers free of his foot before heading toward his bedroom.

“Wh…what?” Willow swung her arms around his neck, mild horror reflected in both her voice and expression. 

“This does not happen to me,” stated Angel.  “We’ll go again.”

“Really Angel, it’s fine…” Willow was grasping at straws, trying to think of anything that could make him feel better and perhaps make him put her down so she could go to the bathroom and lock herself away for the rest of her natural life.  “I mean it’s understandable. Sometimes circumstances means that things don’t go the way we want,” she was desperately searching for an example that would make the vampire feel better, perhaps something just as awkward and funny in a twisted way.  In her intoxicated state, there was only one thing she could think of.  “You know, kind of like when Spike couldn’t bite me.”

Angel stopped dead in his tracks, half way to the bedroom and Willow sighed in relief, quite sure that he was going to let her go and have a good old laugh at the thought of Spike not being able to bite her.  She couldn’t have been more wrong.

“You…you’re,” he frowned, his mouth hanging open as he drew back slightly.  “You’re comparing me to Spike?”

“Huh?” Willow was too drunk for the conversation, it wasn’t making sense and the crestfallen and somewhat disgusted look on his face certainly didn’t make sense.  Wasn’t he meant to see the funny side to Spike not being able to bite?  Then how come he looked like he was about to drop her on the hard floor?  Time to change tactics.  “No…no, that’s not what I meant…well, kind of,” she shrugged. The frown lines deepened and he looked absolutely appalled, just like Spike would have had he been compared to Angel and suddenly it made sense.  “No, absolutely not, in no way are you comparable to…you know, you shouldn’t listen to me, I’m drunk.”

“You are comparing me to that…that…” Angel shook his head, tightened his hold and stormed off towards the bedroom.  “That’s it, we’re definitely going again.”

“Angel, really,” Willow began as she was deposited on his bed.  It wasn’t until she started inching herself away from the towering and naked vampire that she realized for the first time that she was naked as well, completely and utterly naked except for the stockings.  Blushing furiously, she brought her hands up, draping one arm across her breasts while the other was utilized in covering her pubic hair.

“No. I promised you sex and you’re going to get it,” admonished Angel, leaning over her and shaking a finger.  Willow’s face crumpled into a confused frown.

“Well, we kind of already had…”

“That was not sex,” stated Angel, sitting down on the edge of the bed, his expression softening as his eyes lingered over the stockings, his fingers straying to stroke the arch of her foot.

“Really, ‘cause apart from the abrupt ending…” her words died off as she dissolved in a fit of giggles.

“Are you laughing at me?” the question was filled with mortification and Willow struggled to stop giggling.

“No,” Willow shook her head, biting her tongue to hold back the laughter.  Unfortunately the thoroughly dejected look on Angel’s face just seemed to add to the ridiculousness of the situation and the giggles broke through.

“You are,” there was no mistaking the horror and indignation that accompanied that short statement and Willow collapsed back against the bed, laughing until she cried.

“Okay, I am…” Willow wiped away the tears, forgetting about her nudity and she shrugged.  “You‘ve got to admit it’s kind of funny.”

“There’s nothing funny about it,” Angel huffed and Willow fixed him with an incredulous look.  He stared for a moment before turning away, crossing his arms over his chest and sticking his bottom lip out.  “It’s not funny.”

Behind him, Willow shifted on the bed, grabbing a pillow and dragging it down to modestly cover herself, and shuffled forward so she could rest her chin on the sulking vampire’s shoulder.  He wouldn’t look at her, just stuck his lip out further and she nestled in against his back.

“Little, little, little,” she wrapped an arm about him, bringing her fingers up to his face and holding two together as she sung the words. “Little bit funny.”

The only answer she received was a sniff and she fought to contain a giggle at his behavior.

“You’re laughing at me again,” he stated sulkily, sparing her a quick glance and her hand dropped down to his chest.

“Not laughing at you, laughing with you,” she insisted, jostling him with her shoulder.  “Come on, admit it…it’s funny.”  Once more his head swung, a brief glance at her before turning back, only this time there was a trace of a smile and she jostled him again. “See, you do think it’s funny.”

One second she was cuddled up behind him, teasing him, and the next she was pinned down to the bed, the pillow tossed aside while her arms held above her head as he loomed over her.  There was nothing she could do but gasp in fear.

“Say it’s not funny,” Angel growled, he was trying to be menacing, but the smirk on his lips and the slight slur in his speech sort of undermined the whole ambience of the scene.  “Or else”

“Or else?” Willow’s heartbeat slowed and she giggled again, testing his hold on her wrists and it immediately tightened.  “Or else what?”

“Torture,” he transferred both her wrists to one hand and brought his other down, flexing the fingers and grinning wickedly.  “I’ll be forced to tickle you to death.”

Willow narrowed her eyes and glanced at the hand.  “You don’t scare me, mister…”

Unfortunately it was the wrong thing to say. Angel attacked her, mercilessly centering in on every one of her most sensitive spots.  His fingers licking over her flesh until she squirmed, squealing and laughing in between the begging for mercy. The bed became a mad mess, the pillows were pushed aside during the raucous and the bed linen became crumpled beneath them, partially sliding from the bed.  Still he continued his torment, he wasn’t going to stop until he heard the words that he’d demanded of her. 

“Okay, okay,” Willow cried out, quite sure if he didn’t stop that she’d embarrass herself even more than he did by wetting herself and thus his bed.  “It’s not funny, it’s not funny.  It’s truly a tragedy.”

“Good,” stated Angel, releasing her hands but keeping her partially trapped beneath his body.  The hand that had held hers together lingered, slowly sliding down her arm and moving to cup her flushed face, his thumb brushing away the tears that the tickling had induced.  There was something appealing about those tears, the way they left a moist trail on skin that was still tinted by an alcoholic induced blush.  Before he was even conscious of the fact, he dipped his head down, his tongue tracing over the dampness, chasing the fallen tears back up the path they’d traveled.  His nose brushed against the heated skin of her temple and he could smell blood.  That small cut, just above her eye.  The taste of blood lingered on his tongue as it caressed the wound and he felt like his whole being was rocked.  As his tongue once more ran over the little gash, he couldn’t help but think that nothing tasted as good as human blood.  Nor did anything feel as good as a warm human.  Especially when they were wrapping their arms tightly about him. 

“Angel?” her lips moved beneath his and he wondered when exactly they’d started kissing again.

“Mmm?” he didn’t bother to pull away, the sound leaving him during the brief moment when his lips left hers.

“Do you still want to,” she paused as his mouth closed over hers, stilling the flow of words and his tongue ravished her warm mouth.  It wasn’t the only thing he was ravishing, his hands were busy, wandering over her skin, pulling her to him.  There was nothing Willow could do but moan as her body was pressed against his, her breasts flattening against the hard planes of his chest. Nipples caught on nipples and they both shivered.  Willow finally tore away from the breathtaking kiss and finished her original sentence. “You know…”

In answer, one of his hands dropped down to the small of her back, holding her steady while he rolled his hips forward.  Willow’s eyes widened and she pushed away from his chest, glancing down at his growing erection.

“Wow, okay,” she nodded and bit her bottom lip.  “That’s…I’m thinking that’s a yes.”

“Uh huh,” confirmed Angel, eagerly pulling her back against his chest to kiss again. He shifted his weight slightly, moving his legs and insinuating one of his thighs between hers. They were wet, mainly from his previous performance, something he was struggling to put behind him.  He must have hesitated or faltered, for she was pulling away from him and he frowned down at her.  The frown was only fleeting as she kissed her way down his neck to the broad expanse of his chest, then it turned into the most rapturous smile.  He had never know that his nipples were so sensitive to pinching or to the warmth of her wet mouth or, he bucked up into her mouth as he found himself flat on his back with her astride his stomach, to the sharp nips she was administrating.  Her mouth left his nipples and they were aching, the cool air of the apartment intensifying the throb.  But he was soon distracted by the feel of her mouth inching its way down, slowly kissing her way to his navel, her tongue caressing that point and he arched up, his fingers tangling in the bed linen.  Of course, he should have known what was coming, but he was drunk, well that was the excuse he was going to use.

“Holy Mother of God,” he howled, thrusting up uncontrollably into her mouth as it closed around the tip of his throbbing cock.  Her tongue teased the tip, circling, swirling about it, making it weep as one of her hands moved to caress his balls, her thumbnail dragging across the sensitive area on the underside of his cock.  The heat of her hands and her mouth, which moved over his cock, taking him deeper into that sweet orifice, were driving him to distraction and he was certain, as her head began to bob up and down, that if he didn’t stop her he’d be humiliated.

Again.

And Angel certainly didn’t want that, so he pulled her away, his hands hooking under her armpits and dragging her up. He could see the confusion in her eyes, mixing with more than a little bit of self doubt and he wanted to tell her that she was too talented for her own good, that she was going to send him to Hell for the second time that night if he’d let her continue using that oh so clever mouth.  But he couldn’t.  He needed her, needed to be buried in her warmth, have her legs wrapped about him with those delightfully wicked stockings rubbing at his flesh as he rode her until she screamed.  It was all he could think of as he took her mouth again, his tongue penetrating the warm cavern as he gently rolled her over.  Another time, another place and he would have spent more time exploring her body, mapping out every single inch with his mouth and fingers. But not now, not here, he just needed her and judging from the way she was holding him, spreading her thighs wide and thrusting up to him, she was feeling the same way.  

It was Willow who took matters into her own hands, well at least one of them.  She reached down, her hand firmly running across his stomach, finally closing around his cock and guiding him between her legs.  Her fingers tightened about his hard cock as he slowly entered her and she urged him deeper with the same rocking motion she’d used in the chair, only this time it was slower. The deeper he penetrated, the further back up his cock her fingers slid with the same firm hold.  It was a purely selfish move on her part, an old trick she’d heard of, her fingers working in the same way as a cock ring would, just in case. 

With every shallow thrust he made, Angel watched in wonder as the expressions flitted across Willow’s face.  At first there had been trepidation and then, as he began to inch his way into her, there had been wonderment.  Her mouth formed the perfect ‘O’ and he couldn’t help himself, he just had to kiss her, his tongue mimicking his slow thrusts.  Finally, he pulled away from her, drew his hips back and, bracing himself above her on his arms, thrust hard and deep. 

Willow gasped, bucking up into the movement, her fingers falling away from his cock and she brought her hands up to claw at his strong arms.  There was no mistaking that Angel was a well-proportioned individual and for the first time that night, she was kind of grateful that she was drunk.  The movement was repeated and all rational or irrational thought left her, the only concern she had was the vampire above her, who was continuing to move with her while his mouth found hers.

Perhaps it was the influence of the alcohol, but there was no desperate rush this time, no deviant urgency to fuck hard and fast, just a need to make each other feel good.  They merged together, their mouths meeting, their tongues alternated between mimicking and contradicting their thrusts. Control of the act was sometimes forfeited or demanded, but generally they complimented each other, neither leading nor following, just fucking.  Although at times, demands were made.

“God, don’t stop,” Willow insisted, clinging to him, one arm wrapped about his neck, pulling him down, while the other clawed at the small of his back.  Angel’s thighs were spread wide, forcing her open even though one of her legs was hooked over his hip and the other about one of his thighs, and he was carrying his weight on his knees, tilting his body down over her.  With every long deep thrust he made, he could feel the reactions deep inside her, her muscles clenching tightly about his cock, trying to keep him from pulling out.  But there were subtle differences as well, the uncontrollable quivers that her muscles made and the way her whole body was stiffening.  He continued with the deep thrusts, throwing the full force of his weight behind them, each one forcing them further up the bed and eliciting the sweetest sounds of pleasure from her. But they weren’t so sweet as the scream that rent the air as he buried himself deep inside her and she thrust up against him, her hips stilling as every muscle in her body seemed to contract.  It was a brief interlude of immobility before she threw her head back against the bed.  The cry of pleasure continued as her body convulsed, her muscles trembling about his hard cock and he rocked against her, letting her orgasm flow and ebb.

Time and time again he did it, waited for her pleasure to finish washing over her before building it up again, until she couldn’t stand it anymore.  Until her body was flushed from the exertion, her hair was soaked with sweat and she was covered with a fine sheen.   Then and only then did he consider letting this blissful night come to an end.

Angel rolled them and sank back into the soft down of his bed, his hands on Willow’s hips, holding her steady.  It was a divine sight as she raised herself up, her head rolling back. The cry of pleasure was more beautiful than any masterpiece that the great composers had penned and her rhythm as she moved against him was faultless.  She was, at that moment, the true embodiment of everything that was beauty and perfection.  A seraph that was giving itself to its creator. It was egotistical, but the reverend sounds of pleasure that came from her, they were words of worship and he was her god, he’d created her, molded her, brought her to this point, even if it was just for this one drunken night.  Her nails dug into his thighs and he was brought back to reality, Willow was no longer a celestial being, but a wanton girl, riding him hard for one purpose and one purpose only.  He could feel the changes, buried deep inside her and this time he let himself be caught up in the natural fury.  His fingers moved down to rub at her clit and that was enough for her to be pushed over the precipice of her final climax.  As her muscles clenched against him with enough force to threaten to push him out, he thrust up, deep and hard, and with a roar of pure bliss, he came. 

Willow collapsed, falling onto his chest, her face buried in his neck as she panted and trembled.  Her heart was pounding and Angel wrapped his arms about her, holding her close.  Nature was already working against them, forcing them to separate as Angel’s rapidly softening cock slipped from her warmth, but his hold on her tightened. For a while there was nothing but silence and one of his hands strayed to her damp hair, stroking it lightly.  He wasn’t sure how long he’d been holding her when she started to squirm.

“Angel,” her voice was hoarse.

“Hmmm?” he didn’t want to move, his eyes were closed and he was nearly asleep.

“I’ve got to pee.”

“Later,” he grunted quite sure that he wouldn’t have been able to release her even if he wanted to.

“Nah uh, I have to go to the bathroom or else.”

“Or else what?” he asked mockingly, doubting very much that she’d have the energy to launch a tickle attack on him.

“Do you want an even bigger wet spot?”

Angel immediately released her and there was the giggle that he’d heard so many times that night.  He watched as she crawled off him, her face twisting into a grimace, her muscles protesting at the abuse they’d been subject too, and she gathered the sheet about her, hiding away those wickedly sinful stockings that were still in place.  She disappeared from view, the end of the sheet trailing after her into the bathroom and Angel closed his eyes.  Vampire or no, he was drunk and utterly exhausted.  That’s probably why he fell asleep only to be startled awake when Willow wandered back, crawling onto the bed next to him and pulling the quilt over both of them.  Instincts kicked in and he tucked her up in his arms, making sure that she was covered with the quilt and held her close as he fell asleep again.

Angel snuggled closer to the warmth, his arm ensnared the downy softness and pulled it in tight against his naked stomach.  Lips found his and dropped a soft kiss against them, fingers combing through his hair and he rolled slightly, following the lips as they pulled away.  Sighing contently, he snuggled closer to the warmth, trapping it under his body as he threw his leg across the bed, only to be encumbered by the tangled sheets and quilt.  There was still that numbness, that aching tiredness and contentment of a good shag combined with the influence of alcohol and he readily fell back into the sweet ignorant bliss of sleep. 

But sleep was short lived and he was startled out of it by a jumble of noise coming from the office upstairs.  Or maybe it was the racket in his head, his ears buzzing as his eyes throbbed behind their closed lids and the pain was getting worse.  Oh yeah, he’d definitely drunk too much last night, there was nothing like a killer hangover to put everything into perspective and he moved his aching body against the cool softness that was crushed beneath him.

Crushed?

His eyes shot open and he sat up way too quickly, his head spinning and he had to cradle it in an effort to keep it in place, or so it felt. 

“Willow?” he called out hopelessly, positive that he’d rolled over in the middle of the morning and crushed her to death.  Hell, he could remember snuggling up to her warmth, pulling her in closer.  Panic hit in as there was no answer and he glanced down at the crumpled bed linen.  There was no body, no crushed flesh that once was a living girl, just soiled sheets and a couple of his pillows.   “Willow?”

Still he received no answer and a new wave of panic swept over him.  How drunk had he been?  Had he perhaps, in the dark area of the night where fantasy had merged with reality and fuelled by alcohol, turned her? Dear god, the fear that gripped him made him gag, he couldn’t have. No, he would have remembered doing that, would have felt the new bond now.  Footsteps echoed above and Angel forced himself to stand on shaky legs and swore off alcohol for the rest of eternity as he wrapped the sheet about his waist. 

“Willow,” he checked in on the bathroom only to find it empty and brief glance at the rest of his apartment found it just as vacant.  In fact the only proof that the images running through his mind from the past few hours were actual fact were the abandoned clothes and shoes randomly scattered through out the lounge room.  Pulling the grate of the elevator open, Angel moaned in agony, the sound jarring on his hung over state, like that of nails being dragged over a blackboard.  “Stairs…stairs are good, no sound.”

Although the stairs actually meant he had to find some sort of co-ordination and that, coupled with the sheet that kept slipping and wrapping about his feet, was a problem.  The wall offered support as he stumbled and moaned, he was quite sure that his head was going to explode.  As he reached the top of the stairs, it did.  The door was swung back and collided with his throbbing head.

“Ow, Jesus fucking Christ…ow, ow, oh god, my head,” he wailed desperately clutching at both his head and the sheet. 

“What are you doing?” Cordelia demanded, adopting her inquisitor stance of legs spread and hands on hips. 

“Don’t shout,” whimpered Angel, shuffling out into the office area, quickly scanning the rooms and coming up empty handed. 

“Shout?  Okay, you’re hearing things.  Gee, nice PJ’s,” exclaimed Cordelia, pushing past him to pour some coffee.  “So are you going to explain why you’re staggering up the stairs, half naked?”

Angel pointedly ignored her and from the corner of his eye he caught sight of the briefcase that they’d taken the night before to Wolfram and Hart.  Strange that it was upstairs when he and Willow had used the lower entrance to the apartment earlier on. 

“Hey, what’s this?” asked Cordelia, sitting down at her desk and picking up a plain envelope.  She frowned.  “Willow’s hand writing and ooh,” the sound was one of those adolescent taunting noises that grated on Angel’s frayed nerves.  “Addressed to you.”

“Give me that,” snapped Angel, snatching the envelope away and heading into his office.  Behind him, Cordelia shook her head and sipped her coffee.  Shuffling, he made his way to his desk and sat down, glancing at the brunette to make sure she wasn’t following him.  Satisfied that he was safe from her prying eyes, he opened the envelope and pulled out the note.  It was simple and direct and pretty much what he’d expect from Willow, well, almost.  The note basically contained nothing more than details about the files they had copied from Lindsey’s machine and the directory that she had saved them to on Cordy’s.  But it was the last line that made Angel smile ever so slightly despite the raging hangover from Hell combined with having his head smacked by a solid door.

“By the way, thank you for last night and if I can ever return the favor let me know.”

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