Faith seems a
little anxious to get back inside, Angel takes a second to survey the alley
before he's convinced that everything is actually taken care of. Nothing
moving, can't sense anything else coming from the darkness of the alley. He's
satisfied, and turns to follow Faith into the Bronze when something slams into
him and he's assaulted by the whole human package: warmth and flesh and
heartbeat right in his face without any time to prepare.
He likes some time
and distance when dealing with that, doesn't like to have the sudden reminder
of what it feels like to hold that continually vibrating energy thrust right on
him. Cells and organs growing , maturing and dying at a dizzying rate. It makes
it hard to repress the memory of blood sliding down his throat, of epithelial
cells beginning to tear and give up their bond to their brothers. He's thinking
about this too much, right?
Focus. Center. Push
this body away, because he doesn't want to slide backwards and rip out the
throat of a high school...uh, Willow? He really works hard to repress that last
train of thought because he doesn't want to start associating Willow with any
kind of blood-letting scenario.
What he does know
is that she's very upset, he can smell it on her, pain and loneliness exuding
from every pore in her body, so familiar that he can't separate himself from it
for a minute, but he manages to. Takes a stab at what could have affected her
so. "What's wrong, Willow? Was Cordelia in there?"
"Cordelia?
Huh? " Willow seems to realize who she's leaning against, pushes back an
increment but can't break away completely because perversely, he won't break
the circle of his arms. That would mean
he would have to stop touching her. "No. I had a fight with Xander. God!
He can be the biggest...biggest..."
"Asshole?"
Angel supplies, knowing that someone in that club probably already tagged him
with that line. Harris never did like him much.
"Yeah,
that."
He has to let go of
her now, or it will start to look suspicious. Internal sigh as his wrists slide
down the backs of her arms, pause just long enough to brush over the back of
her hands, one move, and he could twine their fingers. Too soon, there isn't
even that innocent contact. "What did he do? Blow you off to be with
Faith?"
The redhead reaches
to push open the door and escape the club's atmosphere, he's there first, and
her hand covers his. She frowns for a moment, recalling some piece of
information that he's not privy to. "Actually, for once no. He wanted to
'talk' to me about, well, talk about stuff."
That little punk
Xander Harris, what could they have been talking about to produce this level of
distress? " I take it you don't want to tell me about this 'stuff'."
She's already out the door and hurrying down the alley, throwing over her
shoulder, "Can I not? Because, embarrassing."
It's nothing for
him to catch up with her, to match her stride for stride. "You want to go
for a walk, maybe talk about other non-embarrassing things?" There's no
way he's going to leave her alone in this town after dark. Even if she said no,
he'd still follow behind her fifty feet, a hundred if necessary, to see that
she made it home.
"A walk would
be super. Yes, walking and talking, I can do that."
"I knew you
were talented." He can feel her sadness dissipating, leaving a mild
undercurrent of anger, but not so much so that the tense lines of her body
aren't softening.
"Ha. Trying to
butter me up." She shoves both hands in her pockets and looks over at him
with laugh lines just beginning to touch the corners of her eyes.
"Do I need to
butter you? Because I can be far more suave than this if I need to."
"Uh, no
buttering needed. Butter-free, that's me. I mean, just be you. I like you just
plain."
"You like me?
Even after last night?" He waits for the crucial answer, counts the steps
it takes for her to respond. Three...four...five...hopes she says something
before they reach her house.
"I never
unliked you, Angel. And last night, that is one of those not to talk about
topics. Because saying it out loud might make it not have happened."
"Superstitious
are you?"
"Bist
meshugeh-are you crazy? I live on a hell mouth."
They enter the
gates of a cemetery that's about six blocks from her house, and in any other
town, that would be weird, but this place is peaceful, beautiful, and he's not
worried that he can't protect her from any nasties they'd find here. He's one
of those nasties when all's said and done. They talk for a few minutes about
everything *but* what happened last night. He wonders why he can't stop smiling
whenever he talks to her. " Sorry, but one more thing about that
unspeakable topic. You're glad it happened?"
"Glad? I
wouldn't use that word. Elated, that's a better one. But, if you regret it,
then no, I am mad at you for taking advantage of me!"
"Would you
want it to happen again sometime?" Isn't it funny how one word can change
your life, his could go either way right now, depending on the next syllable or
two she utters. If he stares at her, maybe he can guess what she'll say before
she says it?
"Uh, tell me
the time and date and I will pencil you into my planner." She dips her
head shyly and then looks up at him.
"How about
now?" They're away from the street, curtained from view by a row of trees.
Angel grabs her hand and walks her backwards until pine branches surround them.
She doesn't protest, just bites her lip and looks uncertainly at him, like
she's not sure how to start, or how to act.
"Now is
good?" There's the smallest quaver in her voice and then she closes her
eyes.
He's going to catch
this opportunity before it's gone, before someone or something interrupts them,
makes her change her mind, makes him change his. No matter how many
conversations he's had with himself about how this can't work out, how he and
Willow can never have a future together, there is no way he can *not* touch her
right now...*not* kiss her.
Sweet, warm breath
fans across his face, and when he touches his tongue to her bottom lip, he can
taste the sticky residue the soda she had at the club. He licks it off, paying particular
attention to the corner, which is where his tongue enters her, sliding past the
barrier of her closed lips and opening her, exploring a place that no one has
ever been, at least he thinks they haven't. No, Willow's inexperienced, every
bit of her body language announces it- a touching air of uncertainty that makes
him want to assure her, bury himself in her all at once.
Gently, gently, a
hand comes up to slide around to the nape of her neck, massage a light squeeze,
and her head tilts back. Overwhelming urge to devour her from the lips
down...he's worried that the demon's taking over and realizes it's just his
dick talking. When her hand comes up to grab the lapel of his coat to steady
herself, he feels himself grow hard, knows that this isn't enough contact, he
wants to feel every inch of their bodies in contact, naked.
He manages to pull
away from her, to break the contact of their lips momentarily. "Do you
have to go home right now? You could come over to my place, just
to...talk." And doesn't that sound like a line.
She must not be too
offended, because she smiles and nods her head. "Okay." And comes
willingly after him. He doesn't let go of her hand this time.
Willow and Angel
tread their way through the grave markers of the long and not so long dead,
those who remained fully dead and those who met a second end at the tip of a
stake. Both are preoccupied with their thoughts, anticipation and nervousness
running high.
After about fifty
feet, Angel brings Willow up short with the flat of his hand pressed against
her stomach. "Shh. I think I hear something."
"What? A
vamp?"
"Not sure.
Stay here." He meshes with the shadows grown long by the full moon, light
footfalls on dead leaves and desiccated flowers.
Willow doesn't stay
put though. She's tired of being left in the wake of events, she follows him a
few steps behind, and he focuses on her heartbeat and breathing rather than the
sound he's supposed to be tracking
Angel turns to
raise a hand to Willow, to attempt to hold her back again, and when he does,
the stricken look on her face causes him to whip his head around and follow her
line of sight to see what could be that fucking bad.
In the soft cascade
of moonlight he sees two figures bent over a marble tombstone. Xander with his
pants rucked to just past his hips, head thrown back, silvering effect from the
illumination overhead on his hair, his face tight with concentration and
pleasure. Faith's head hung low, grasping the marble with her hands, her pants
pooled to her mid-calves, thrusting back against the man behind her. Her voice
braying, low and guttural.
Angel reigns
himself in, realizes he's stared for more than slightly too long, turns on his
heel and grasps Willow by the elbow. "Come on, Will. Let's go." She
nods distractedly, still staring at the pair behind him. He gives her arm a
small shake, draws her attention and tries again, "Will, let's go. I'll
take you home?"
"No." She
repeats herself more firmly, "No, we were going to your place. I still
wanna go."
************************
She resists the
urge to gawk when she steps foot in his apartment. There are lots of antique
looking things...and it's so neat. This is the home of an adult. No dirty
clothes, or junk lying around, just the well-aged sheen of historic pieces of
furniture that are probably as old as he is.
He takes her coat
and hangs it on a funny, twisty coat rack and then says, "Uh, are you
going to be ok? Would you like a glass of wine or something to calm your
nerves...oh, people don't do that anymore, do they?"
The image of Xander
and Faith is burned forever on her brain and suddenly the oblivion of a good
drunk sounds really attractive, maybe a little reckless, but what the hell.
Yes, that's a great idea. "Wine, yes, I want wine. What kind do you
have?"
"Wha...what
kind?" He looks like he wasn't expecting her to take him up on the offer.
"Yeah, white
or red? Cabernet? Chardonnay?" She tries to turn down that after school
special soundtrack in her head, the one warning about drinking alcohol and
being alone with a boy in his room. It doesn't mention what the protocol is for
being in a vampire's room though.
"You know
about wine?"
"My parents
are college professors, of course I do. I'll just take what you have. Whatever
is ok."
He raises an
eyebrow, gathers two glasses and a bottle, pours some of the red liquid into
each. "It's Sirah, and I am surprised, let me just say, I continue to be
shocked by you."
"Shocked in a
good, or a bad way?" She asks.
He hands her a
glass. "Good."
"That goes
both ways. Thanks."
She takes a large
sip and it gives her that funny burn in her nose. At least she's not totally
unused to it, her parents let her drink wine on holidays and other special
occasions. She drains the glass and holds it out to him to refill, suppresses
the choking that is a warning that fine wine should be sipped and not guzzled.
"Maybe you'd
better slow down a little?" He says, but she notices he tips the bottle
and fills her glass again.
Yes, slow down,
because dependable Willow wins the race. And didn't that help her win Xander?
Who's the one bent over a tombstone now? Not her. Faith's more adventurous,
more exciting, that's why Xander chose her.
If Willow's too
dull for Xander, she must be slug-like to Angel. He's really been so sweet, and
he's so cute...and she's starting to sound maudlin. Maybe two glasses is her
limit. She's only slightly surprised to hear the next words out of her mouth.
"Are you going to kiss me again?"
Angel puts his
glass down, closes his eyes and shakes his head. "I think this was a bad
idea, Willow."
"Because you
don't want to kiss me?" Has he finally realized what a useless geek she
is?
"No, because I
want to." He comes over to her and takes her wineglass from her. "I'm
cutting you off." He puts his glass down next to hers and continues,
"This is a bad idea, Willow. I don't know what I was thinking."
She doesn't think
she can handle being rejected by Angel right now, not after everything that's
happened tonight, not when she just thought something might be coming out of
his apparent interest. "Did I do something..."
"No, no, no.
Willow. I just...I have to keep telling myself that I shouldn't feel this way
about you. I don't see a way that this can work out between us"
Xander's face
flashes in her mind, and she feels the stirring of the indignant anger she felt
at the Bronze when he warned her not to get involved with Angel. Here was
another man trying to tell her whom she should be attracted to. "So you've
decided that you'll make that decision for both of us? That's kind of arrogant
of you."
He looks shocked,
stricken and reaches out to her, but drops his hand uselessly before he makes
contact. "I just wanted to spare everyone from...some twisted place where
we end up hating each other."
"So you'd
rather we stay at this twisted place where we're both miserable?"
"I don't
know." He brings his right hand up to follow the curve of his eyebrows
with his thumb and ring finger, pressing hard, and she can't entirely banish
the fleeting wonder of whether a vampire who gouged his own eyes out would grow
them back. "I want to do the right thing."
"Do you know
what that is?" Please don't let him say they should stay apart. Please no,
please no, please no, please no, please no.
He drops his hand
and looks bleakly at her. "Willow, you don't know what I've been, the
things I've done. If you did, you wouldn't even be standing in this room with
me. You'd be in your room, wrapped in an altar robe with seven strings of
garlic around your neck."
"Angel,"
she protests gently, hating to hear the self-loathing in his voice.
"No!" He
takes a menacing step in her direction. "I've done...things beyond your
comprehension, and I enjoyed every minute of it. Now I get to walk the earth
for the next couple of centuries and pay for it. Is that someone you want to
love? Is that the right choice for a boyfriend?"
"But you're
good now, I've seen it." She thinks she might cry like a little girl, and
she blames it on the wine.
"I can't ask
you to do this, to give up your life for me. You should be dating guys your own
age and going to dances and staying far away from me."
She can't bear to
hear anymore; she flings herself at him, throws her arms around his neck,
kissing him and hoping that will make him stop lecturing her. When he tries to
protest, brings his hands up to remove her arms, she clings tighter, locking
her elbows. He struggles for about thirty seconds, but there's no fire in him
for that, and to have her pressed against him, begging him to love her, it's
too much. He lets his fantasy given life pull him down.
He draws away from
her long enough to mumble in warning. "Willow, you don't know what you're
asking."
She nibbles his
bottom lip, feels him stiffen against her and smirks, "I, Willow
Rosenberg, being of sound mind and body, promise not to hold you accountable
for whatever outcome occurs from this kiss."
She hears him groan
as he kisses her, pushes her back to his bed until she can feel the mattress
against the backs of her knees, just enough pressure to guide her down, and she
lies prone with him supporting himself above her. She can see his arms
straining to hold himself up as he looks down on her.
"Willow,
" his voice pained, hungry, thick with need. "I promise not to do
anything to hurt you. I'm not going to push you to do anything right now, just
let me show you how good I can make you feel." No one had ever used that
low desperate whisper with her before, and she feels an excitement rippling all
over her body, warmth and needle-like pinpricks of energy causing a heightened
sensitivity along her skin.
"Yes, I trust
you."
With eyes closed,
he bows his head then places his lips against the hollow of her throat, kissing
the dip and valley of bone. The folly of allowing a vampire that close to her
neck escapes her as he moves slowly, pushing her shirt down and lingering at
the cup seam of her bra. She feels a tug at the string of her waistband, the
loosening of the ties. Rolls to the side when his hand pushes against her hip
and her pants slide down, past her knees, past her calves, caught on her
ankles, with a another tug, they're free, and he spreads her legs so that her
thighs cradle first his abdomen then his torso as he slides down.
She closes her eyes
when she feels the first nudge 'down there' and panics slightly. No one's ever
seen her *down there* and Ohh, she stiffens when she feels a prod from his
nose...tongue? Definitely tongue when a flat, wet pressure rests against the
crotch of her panties. Coiled nerves jump and a sudden gush of wetness greets
his exploration, and she can feel her legs shaking as her panties follow the
same route as her pants just did.
The tip of his
tongue tickles her inner thigh as he works his way back to where he was, nose
nudging her lips open, allowing him to work his tongue farther in, lapping at
her with short, quick strokes and a wet slurping that makes her look down in
embarrassment.
The sight of his
head buried between her legs, eyes closed as he disappears once again into her
makes her catch her breath. Sharp thrusts and occasionally one long, slow
plunge that brings his chin up against her ass, and she tries to count to one
hundred to make it last, doesn't want to give up the feeling of this ever.
A tickly, shudder
starts at the base of her spine, and she feels like she wants to have more of
him, all of him, squeezes her butt and brings her hips off the bed to increase
the pressure and depth of him inside of her. Her thigh muscles contract, and
she feels a trembling quiver and a relaxing of her muscles, and it's too late
to delay it any further.
Sliding up her
body, he wipes his mouth on his sleeve and looks up at her. "Are you
okay?"
She's having a hard
time catching her breath, but manages a squeaky "Yeah, okay."
He smiles weakly
and kisses her cheek, doesn't think she'll let him kiss her mouth as much as he
wants to feed back her taste to her; he realises it's getting kind of late.
"I'd better get you home."
"But isn't
there...don't you want to..."
"This is a lot
to happen all at once. I don't want to overwhelm you, or pressure you. I'm not
going anywhere Willow. I want to be with you, I want you. There will be a lot
of time for us to do those other things. Just not now, you need to be
ready."
************************