fanfiction by sienna

The Ecstasy of Grief
by Sienna

E-MAIL: [email protected]
RATING: NC-17...the only way to go <bg>
SPOILERS: only for Reprise.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I would normally think of my own title, but this is from 'Passion'. It was so fitting. 'Flames' belongs to VAST. I blame this fic on Irvine Welsh. Oh, and Angel can't lose his soul. Why? Who bloody cares? And no, I do not condone the use of drugs. Bad. Evil. Naughty.
DISCLAIMER: blah blah blah blah blah.
SYNOPSIS: Buffy attempts to appease her fury.

I wanted to do something stupid and foolish. I wanted to be out of control. I wanted to make him angry so that he wouldn't fucking coddle me whenever I was mad.

I insisted in no uncertain terms that we would go to Exile, an underground club I had yet to experience. He argued, of course, but I took his keys and he followed me out, objecting the entire way. I was feeling destructive, and I was going to make him feel as furious as I was. There was fire in my veins; I itched for a good fight.

As soon as we were in I dragged him to the dance floor. He glanced around disdainfully, an eyebrow lifting slightly at the sight of a two women looking fairly intimate, hands disappearing into pants and tongues in plain view of the world. I spluttered and he pulled me away, his hand gripping my arm. I knew that the reason he came was that he'd rather be here himself than let me go alone. That, and he didn't really have a choice. He would follow me simply because he had to.

He wouldn't dance with me. I didn't expect him to. It was crowded and I was becoming sweaty. The music pounded and throbbed in the air, people rubbed up against each other in desperation, the heat seared my skin. He only kept one hand lightly on my waist as I moved against him, keeping me close so that we didn't get separated.

This was bullshit. I purposely pulled away, moved through the crowd, moved with them. I heard him call my name and I rolled my eyes, glad, for once, that I was short so I could hide amongst the masses. I don't know how much time passed, but everything conflicted. I was angry that he hadn't found me but relieved at the same time, I was angry about what he did, I was angry because I was angry instead of having fun.

Somehow, I began dancing with someone, and it helped take my mind off Angel. For a while. His black hair was spiked sharply, with hints of blue, and his eyebrow piercing looked wicked. The silver adornment caught my eye, and I found myself looking at it more than its owner. Maybe I should get one...

"Come on," he said, pulling me towards a wall by the hand. I wasn't worried. I'm the Slayer. There was nothing he could do to me.

He opened his hand to reveal a small white pill. "Try it," he said, holding it to my mouth.

I shook my head. "No."

"You'll love it," he said assuringly, touching my lips. "It's ecstasy."

I was about to ask if he meant it was the drug ecstasy, or whether it just felt like that, but when I opened my mouth he slipped his finger in and I capitulated, swallowing the pill dry. A small part of my mind was screaming that what I was doing was stupid and foolish -- to pull away and go home with Angel -- which made me realise that stupid and foolish was exactly what I was trying to be since the beginning of the night.

He grinned and I smiled back.

"More," I insisted, holding out my hand.

He began to refuse, but I demanded it. He probably thought he would get some, because he grudgingly slipped me two more. Just as I forced them down my throat, I heard Angel again, calling me.

"Thanks, sweetie," I said, patting his cheek and turning to see Angel glaring at me with barely concealed fury.

He grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the boy. I let him.

"We are getting out of here," he said through gritted teeth.

I yanked my arm from his grasp painfully. "No. I'm staying. You think you can just do whatever you want and raid in on everyone else's fun?"

"Buffy, what the hell is it? Huh?" he said, his voice growing low and dangerous. "What's wrong? Why did you drag me to this place, try to lose me in the crowd, and then tell me this is fun?"

I laughed hollowly. "It is."

"This is not fun," he glared, pushing me towards a vacant table. When I realised what he was doing, I frowned, pulling him back towards the dance floor obstinately. He was being difficult. I wanted to stay.

I could feel a hint of something, my face growing hot, the heat spreading deliciously to the rest of my body. The world looked shiny and safe, the air throbbed with joy and sex and warmth.

"I'm having fun," I said, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck, looking at him coyly, "Fun fun fun. For everyone."

"I'm taking you home," he said, taking my hand from his neck and gripping it firmly. I felt an incredibly urge to laugh and tried to clamp it down but it erupted from my lips and I was laughing laughing laughing.

"Buffy, stop it," he growled. I did, and something hit me with full force, my vision swimming. I couldn't see and I stumbled up against him, leaning my face into his shoulder.

Just needed to steady myself a little, then...then dance....and fun.

"Mmm..." I murmured, breathing in the leather of his jacket and his scent. I lost feeling in my legs. He must have been holding me up up up up, off the ground and on the ceiling. The people were becoming smaller, smaller, heads bobbing with shoulders protruding underneath. Then I crashed again, falling into his arms.

"Whoops," I gasped. "Did you see me fly, Angel? So high..." I snickered at myself, covering my mouth with my fingers and looking up at him with laughing eyes.

He hauled me up a little, I was slipping out of his arms. He put his hand on my face, looking me in the eye and I dropped my smile, staring at him mock seriously. Those wonderful little pills were dancing through my system, shooting through my veins.

"Shit," he muttered, probably seeing my dilated pupils...black holes, I'd suck him in until he was inside me and nowhere else. No one else.

"He gave you something, didn't he? What was it?"

The world tipped and tilted, moving dizzily in circles. Pretty lights, and Angel...Angel looked amazing. Beautiful skin, beautiful hair, beautiful eyes....beautiful everything and he was all for me. "What did he give you?" he asked insistently.

I curled my forefinger into my thumb, making a small hole and looking at him through it with one eye. "Zoooom."

This made me laugh again gleefully. Everything was terribly funny. Terribly. It sounded like such a bad thing. It sounded so British. Look at my hand, so big it was taking over the world. It could squeeze the life out of every creature on this green and blue ball of energy.

When I looked at Angel again he was a lion, growling at me, magnificent and powerful and golden. My eyes widened and I pawed at his face, hoping he wouldn't bite me, praying he would. Those gleaming teeth and brilliant yellow eyes. ROAARRR...

I snapped my teeth at him, my lion, giggling. I closed my eyes and sighed, steadying myself, and when I opened them again he was Angel once more, his hands gripping my upper arms firmly. My head had been lolling, and I snapped it forward, trying to focus on him. His eyes seemed to be glowing, and it was strange that something so dark could glow. He looked delicious.

I lunged at him greedily, biting and nipping his lips, working my way down his chin and neck. I almost bit down, opening my mouth and grazing my teeth against his jugular, feeling him stiffen in anticipation. But I pulled back, denying him, wrapping my arms around his waist tightly and hugging him instead.

"I love you, Angel," I sighed, arching my neck back to look at him. "You're my baby and I love you." I did love him. I loved everything about him. I loved the leather pants he stowed away in the closet. The closet I dominated with joy. I loved this pulsating room. I loved my hair. God, my hair. His hair. I touched it, wondering how anything could be so glorious.

He extracted my arms from his neck. "Buffy, we're going home," he said firmly.

I ignored him. "But don't EVER fuck with me again. I won't let you."

"I don't fuck with you," he said wearily, quickly tiring of my nonsense, as they say. I was the only one who made sense. He certainly didn't make any sense. No, indeed.

"Yes, you do," I said, pointing a finger at his face. "Yes, you do, and you're doing it now, fucking with my head like I don't know what's happening and covering my eyes until all I can see is you."

I was still mad at him, despite the fact that I was ready to take him in the middle of this hungry crowd, still longing to take my revenge in whatever way possible. I didn't care how, as long as it ended this awful despair in my chest and those torturous images that pounded through my head.

Before I could react he hoisted me up and over his shoulder, fingers digging into my thigh, blood rushing to my head and washing my eyes in red red red red red. Everything became black, then returned in patches, my temple throbbing. I felt a rush of cool night air and he finally set me down. I couldn't regain my balance and fell against him, trying to breathe. Something was wrong with my respiration system because I felt like I had stopped breathing which was BAD and I had to be dead, dying, rotting here with flesh hanging off my yellow skeleton or maybe...maybe I was a vampire undead thirsty for blood and sex and drunk with the feeling of my teeth sinking into warm flesh, still not breathing inhaling exhaling living...

"You're hyperventilating. Take deep breaths."

I tried to tell him that I had no air no life I was dead, as dead as him. I was nothing, nothing to him or anybody.

"You aren't nothing," he said firmly, taking my shoulders. My head lolled a little again, or maybe it was just my vision swerving as it does sometimes and how did he know what I was thinking he was reading my mind was I speaking my thoughts or was he putting these thoughts into my mind and answering them or maybe I was going crazy and he hadn't said anything at all...

"Stop fucking with me," I said angrily. There was this smell, I sniffed the air...like...candy. And Angel. I could smell Angel. Spicy, yet sweet and clean.

"I'm not, Buffy, I promise. You need to take deep breaths."

I shook my head, pushing him away. All I ever did was breathe, and frankly, it was a bore.

"Fuck you," I said, liking how it felt in my mouth. "Fuck you, Angel, for being so fucking righteous and fucking NICE, and for making me mad and hurt all the time, and fuck you for fucking DARLA!"

He didn't say anything, and I could tell he was shocked surprised bewildered.

My temple was pounding and I touched it, grimacing. His eyes were wide and he still wasn't saying anything.

"So that's what this is about," he said finally, like it was some big revelation.

"No shit, Angel," I said, backing up dizzily and leaning against a wall because I didn't want to lean on him.

He was quiet again, and I could sense him moving closer to me. "How did you find out?"

"Funny how that's your first question," I said coldly. I couldn't feel my feet. I was floating. It was fucking cool.

"Buffy," he said, still not raising his voice.

"She told me. She told me right before I smashed her face in," I said, remembering the absolute satisfaction I felt when my fist met her face, over and over, and the realisation that with all her strength, her body was soft and destructible. She wasn't the superior being I tortured myself with. This woman whom Angel had been with, in every sense of the word, for 150 years, was just a woman. A vampire, with one more thing in common with Angel than me. I hated her for having him. I hated him for fucking her and for not telling me and I hated him because despite all of it I still loved him with every part of myself.

I could tell he wanted to know more, and the thought that he cared about her made me insanely jealous. It rose up inside me like a tsunami, threatening to destroy everything else inside.

But he didn't ask anything. Instead, he looked ashamed.

"I didn't want you to know."

"I'm sure you didn't," I said, trying to register the cool wall against my fingertips. Inside, I was rather undecided. One part of me wanted to punch him, another wanted to scale the walls and scream at the top of my lungs. A third part wanted to pounce on him and have my way.

So I did nothing.

"Why?" I finally asked. "Why her?" My vision swerved a little again, city lights making a mad dash across the sky, but I blinked and it righted itself.

"I didn't 'choose' her," Angel replied. He stepped closer to me, hesitantly, as if I might flee at any moment. There was little chance of that. I doubted I'd even be standing if it weren't for the loyal wall I was propped up against.

"I was numb. Empty. I needed to feel something," he said, almost touching now, less than a foot away.

I crumbled easily, my eyes burning and my throat closing up. I swallowed with difficulty.

"Why couldn't you feel something with me?"

He sighed, closing his eyes. "Buffy."

His nose was in my hair and moisture leaked from my eyes. I felt like I was watching this happening, all of it, from afar. I watched myself lean against him; my lover, my protector, my mate. He wrapped strong arms around my back. I landed back in my body, feeling like shit. I smelled the leather of his jacket, and that Angel smell I was deprived of during the months -- eons -- we'd been apart. The ground was wet from the afternoon rain, so I couldn't sit down. I needed to sit.

"You wouldn't have wanted me," he whispered, his hands on my waist, holding me close. "And I couldn't do that to you."

"Why not?" I raged, pushing him away from me. "How could I not want you? How could you be with her instead of me?"

"Because I love you!" he said, gripping my arms. "I can't use you like that, Buffy. I was in a dark place. I never want you to see that."

I wanted to tell him that seeing every facet of him was part of loving him, and that it was when he pushed me away that I was hurt, but I didn't have the equilibrium to string long sentences together, nor formulate a rational argument. I could feel his powerful body against mine, his nose in my hair, and at that moment, it was enough. Almost.

"I hate you."

I felt him tense at my words, and I turned my head so that my lips brushed his skin, my forehead resting against the cool, comforting skin of his throat. I felt overheated, my skin too tight.

"You can't just apologise and make everything better," I mumbled, shutting my eyes and savouring that blessed darkness. I needed the buildings around us to stop spinning. I needed to lie down for a while.

He let out a breath. "God, Buffy." His lips touched my hair and he breathed me in. I imagined I reeked of alcohol and cigarette smoke, but he didn't seem to care, his hands sliding up my back and cradling my head.

This was incredibly soothing, and I relaxed a bit more, just thankful to be near him, safe for the first time that day.

Suddenly his lips were on mine and I responded with a gratified whimper, sweeping my tongue across his lips. His tongue met mine like liquid and he hauled me up against him harder, higher, and I was able to kiss him more comfortably. I felt the wall against my back again, felt him pushing me against it. He was kissing me roughly, though his lips weren't punishing and hard, but tender and moist. He explored my mouth feverishly, as if it had been years since we'd kissed instead of hours.

He dragged his lips from mine abruptly and I opened my eyes in surprise, separation an impossibility.

"I love you," he said, his forehead against mine. "Only you."

I closed my eyes at the joy those words brought me and his lips were on mine again, kissing me slowly this time, deeply and thoroughly. A moan erupted from my lips into his, and I ached to feel him without the constricting barrier of clothing. His hips thrust against mine as if he knew my thoughts and I gasped, my head hitting the wall behind me. His lips and tongue were on my neck, sucking, pulling, and I grasped his hair, pushing my hips against his in an effort to relieve the clenching desire between my legs.

My body began to grow heavy and I struggled to remain lucid. The world slowed, then sped up again, moving in wide circles. I gripped him tightly, kissing him back sloppily, feeling too tired to lift my head. I succumbed to the inviting darkness, whispering his name in a cry for help.

// Close your eyes
Let me touch you now
Let me give you something
That is real //

Cool. Soft. Clean.

I blinked, turning my head on the pillow. Angel was there, leaning on an elbow, and I felt relief flood my system. His fingers stroked my hair, concerned eyes traced the lines of my face. I swallowed at the utter devotion I found in his gaze, running a hand down his bare chest, pressing my nose against it and letting his warm protectiveness wash over me. He cradled the back of my head, kissing my hair.

He had removed everything except my panties, and I was grateful because I needed to feel his skin against mine, needed the feeling of our bodies sliding smoothly together.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. I was sorry for being stupid and foolish. I was sorry for losing control. The drugs hadn't worn off yet, but the world wasn't spinning, which was enough for me to be thankful for.

"Don't be sorry," he said, shifting down the bed so that we were eye to eye. "I understand."

Yes, he knew jealousy as well as I did.

I kissed his jaw line, just resting my lips there and shutting my eyes. He moved away and placed his lips on mine, his hands tangling in my hair. I slid an arm around his back, gliding my hand up and down his cool skin as we kissed.

He was already naked and I felt his hands pull my panties away and slide up my thigh, pushing my legs apart easily and pulling them to encircle his waist. I rubbed the inside of my thighs against his hips restlessly and he quieted me, pushing my hair back from my face. I felt his sex against mine and bit his lip in a moan, arching my back when he slipped the head of his cock inside, stretching me. I claimed his lips again, crying out when his chest moved smoothly against my breasts, his thumb rolling over my cheekbone softly.

// Close the door
Leave your fears behind
Let me give you
What you're giving me //

He raised his body partly away and cool air rushed over my breasts, making me miss him. He looked down at me with bottomless eyes before driving into me forcefully, seating himself to the hilt. I gasped, searching for something to hold onto and finding metal bars behind me, preparing myself for the inevitable onslaught. I tightened my legs around his hips, holding his pelvis against mine firmly. He bent and captured my lips in a brutally carnal kiss, his arms moving underneath my back to hold me against him as his hips withdrew slowly, letting me feel every inch of his erection sliding inside my sex. The heated friction was torturous, and I felt like I was being stretched to the limit.

My hands tightened around the bars involuntarily and I whimpered, needing to feel him move into me harder, faster. He kept his rhythm slow, his tongue moving enticingly against mine so that I went out of my mind with longing, bucking my hips to force him to move faster. He pulled out almost completely then thrust in hard, our hips meeting painfully. His arms supported the small of my back, pulling me against him as he thrust, blunt teeth nipping my clavicle. My thrusts met his, his sex sliding long and hard into mine then pulling away. My inner muscles contracted hungrily and I moaned as he quickened, his hands slipping over my skin; my breasts, my stomach, my back....all designed to drive me insane.

I tightened my legs around him and flipped us over, slipping my lips over his, coaxing his tongue into my mouth as I rocked my hips hard against his. I felt hot and sweaty, the heat rising in my bones, burning between my legs where we were joined. I rode him hard, his hands on my hips, helping me thrust with more strength, take him deeper. My breathing was harsh and ragged, and I whimpered when he sat up, his cock shifting inside me, his pelvis putting delicious pressure against my clit. One hand slid up my thigh, down, up, over my breasts. I slammed my hips against his and he thrust up into me powerfully, his lips sipping the skin beneath my ear. I gripped his back desperately, riding him hard and fast, panting harshly into his shoulder. His lips were everywhere, biting, licking, as he pushed up into me. I slammed down hard and exploded, darkness filling my vision as I climaxed around his cock, clenching uncontrollably so that he roared and pumped harder.

// You are the only thing
That makes me want to live at all
When I am with you
There's no reason to pretend that
When I am with you
I feel flames again //

I was unaware of everything except the pleasure shooting through my oversensitized nerves, the erotic friction of his sex, my wetness seeping over him and onto the sheets. He groaned loudly, kissing me violently as his hips bucked into mine, not stopping, not letting me rest. I felt him swell even more inside me and I rocked harder, driving my swollen clit against him as my cries escalated.

Before I could react, he threw me beneath him, pounding me into the mattress, my legs split as wide as they could go in an effort to take him deeper. I was gasping for air, each thrust drilling unadulterated sexual rapture into my body. My inner muscles had tightened until it almost hurt to feel him thrusting, his sex dragging over raw flesh and well-pleasured nerves. He growled dangerously, his true visage slipping comfortably into place, his eyes flashing hungrily. He plunged into me fiercely, again, again, before hauling me up against his chest, his teeth sinking into my throat, fucking me hard, spilling cold seed into my grasping heat with a roar. I was screaming with his thrusts, clamping around him so tightly my muscles wouldn't let go, wouldn't allow him to pull away. We bucked against each other, my orgasm surging through my body in sharp, hot waves. His hands gripped my wrists tightly, pinning me to the bed as he pushed into me, climaxing, my sex clasping around his unrelentingly.

Finally, he collapsed on top of me, his forehead resting against mine. My chest heaved with panting breaths, my body completely boneless and sated. My heat throbbed around his length, pulsing with the aftermath of my orgasm. He moaned, lifting his head and sipping tenderly at the bite on my throat, our hips still moving gently, unable to stop as the pleasure continued to stream through our bodies. I stroked his hair, kissing his face as we slowly came down. He pressed his lips to mine wetly, our tongues meeting as my hands caressed his back, his haunches. He kissed my closed eyes, my cheeks, my chin, before returning to my lips, licking them like a cat and sinking into my body, his head resting on my chest.

I sighed, still stroking his hair, his body pressed to mine intimately, warm in my embrace.

He was mine, and mine only.

// Just put me inside you
I would never ever leave
Just put me inside you
I would never ever leave you //

-----

I touched the bloody incisions gently, dabbing them with a tissue to wipe away the residual blood. Sighing with blissful exhaustion, I disposed of the tissue and leaned my head against the mirror, looking into it to see the rumpled bed. He had no reflection, of course, but it was enough to lure me back.

I crawled into the warm bed, kissing his shoulder softly and lying half on top of him. I wrapped my arms and legs around him, sliding my bare chest over his, lightly caressing the back of his neck. I knew how to touch him to get the response I wanted, and this time was no different. I felt his sex rising against the leg I had thrown over his hips. He turned in my arms, pulling me into his tired body, his nose touching mine.

"Go to sleep," he groaned, and I laughed.

"A part of you would say otherwise," I said, pressing kisses to his face and finally, his lips.

"That part of me doesn't know how to say no to you," he mumbled against my mouth, his hands sliding over my back.

"And you do?" I teased, tracing an earlobe. "You love it."

I pressed a last kiss to his lips before moving down his chest, licking a line down the centre of his body, tasting the skin on his hips. They were spicy, and I smoothed my hands over his abdominal muscles, running my lips softly down the length of his arousal.

"I do," he sighed, pulling my body full length over his. "But a man has to sleep sometime."

I smiled, kissing him thoroughly, pulling his tongue into my mouth to play. He pulled away after a few minutes, brushing the back of his fingers against my cheek. He gazed at me with those soulful eyes. Clichéd, yes, but utterly fitting. He looked at me with such love and concern, it was hard not to describe them as soulful.

"Are you all right now?" he asked softly.

I was still unable to cleanse away the agonising images of Angel and Darla in bed together, or the feeling of overwhelming jealousy. He sensed it and looked me in the eye, so intense and serious. I always loved how he did that, making me feel like I was the only woman in the world to capture his attention.

"You're the only one I love. You're the only one I'll ever love," he said soberly.

His words filled me warmly, and I pressed myself against him more tightly, kissing the corner of his mouth, silently thanking him for his honesty, and for letting me love him back.

"Now?" he murmured, pulling me back so he could see my eyes.

"Better," I acquiesced.

"Better? That won't do, beloved," he grinned playfully, the smile lighting his face.

With that, he rolled me beneath him and proceeded to show me exactly how much he wanted to sleep.

end.

<-- fiction

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