Was It Good For You Too? - Extended Version
Author: Hannahbee
Rating: definitely NC-17
Disclaimer: If B/A were mine they'd be happily married by now (the vampiric or traditional way, scratch that... both ways of course). Since they aren't... Joss still owns them.
Summary: I don't know what you thought happened in Was It Good For You Too?, but here is the real deal. And this time we'll also get an insight into Buffy's thoughts.
Warning: not beta'ed.
Distribution: Denial Haven.
Thanks to: everyone who's still reading my stuff even tho I haven't updated in ages. I'm a bad, bad girl, I know. But I love you all. Thank you so much for your support and encouragement. I really, reallllly appreciate it. And I also apologize if I failed to reply to any mails. My pc crashed and I lost a few mails. If you and I are lucky tho they're still somewhere in my mail box. Anyway...
The Where
Sunnydale. The bad part of the town.
The When
Hunting time. Night.
The Who
Angelus - the Scourge of Europe
Buffy - the Vampire Slayer
The What
A one-sided conversation in a dark alley.
The How
Surprise attack. Buffy in Angelus' embrace, her back to his front, her arms trapped, his hand over her mouth.
The Why
"Passion. It lies in all of us. Sleeping... waiting... And though unwanted... unbidden... it will stir... open its jaws, and howl. It speaks to us... guides us... Passion rules us all. And we obey. What other choice do we have?..." (Angelus, ep "Passion")
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
A hand over her mouth, an arm around her middle trapping her own limbs against the length of her body. She knows this hand, this arm, the embrace, the hard front that's pressed against her back.
Her heart jumps at the feel.
Her mind sighs.
Angel.
But not quite.
"Was it good for you too?" he whispers in her ear. His voice deeper than before, husky and all male.
What? Enyo's death? Jenny's? Suuure! Am I you??!!
She struggles of course. But it's no use.
"The way you clung to me, gasped and moaned, begged for more with your eager hands all over me… that answers the question itself, don't you think?"
Oh, that!
She actually blushes, her light arousal tinting the air. His shaft rises in response. A surprise for her, but not for him. She stops fighting him, suddenly puzzled and intrigued.
"Mmm, I can smell you… sweet."
And then she remembers what happened after.
Gods, I'm so sorry, Angel.
She closes her eyes and swallows her pain, sacks in his embrace.
His arousal deflates.
"Now you're destroying your bouquet."
Your own fault!
"You know… your pain isn't delicious. Never was."
Then why did you…?
"I didn't expect that and handled it badly. I told you, you had to learn a lot about men."
Thanks for the reminder, asshole.
"BUT I don't want you to learn about *other* men."
She doesn't hear the emphasis on other. So…
Huh?
"You're MINE."
Not anymore.
She fights anew. He ignores it.
"And I will teach you how to please me…"
You wish!
"As part of your wifely duties."
Whaaattt????
"Stop struggling. I won't let you go. You're my wife. My mate."
She finally stills, dumbfounded.
NOW you want me?!
Yes, his rejection still rankles her, hurts her pride, but she never ponders why. Instead she raises her chin in defiance.
Never!
"I really like your spunk, but let me refresh your memory. We exchanged the rings, consummated our bond and I took your blood."
Is this some old-fashioned way of marriage without a license?
"Quite literally."
With cock, fangs, lips and tongue.
The memory alone affects him as much as that night itself. His hard-on is back with a vengeance, pressing insistently, hungrily into her smaller back.
He nips the spot where he'd tasted her when she'd tripped over into orgasm the first time he'd taken her. She moans and her arousal returns. Ruthlessly, he nuzzles the spot in earnest, calling forth the image of him lying between her spread legs, licking her virginal blood from her core and thighs. It cocoons her in new awakened desire.
"Now if that doesn't make you mine."
The fog of passion dissipates, if only a little. Still…
Hey! We're not in the Middle Ages anymore!
"I know we're not in the 1700s anymore, but it still makes you my mate, which is even more profound than simply being my wife."
Fuck vamp traditions! And fuck you!
"I know your modern mind rebels against these archaic ideas, but your body…" He softly bites the very spot that got her into trouble before again.
She trembles with pleasure, but her moan - though louder than before - is still muffled by his hand.
"Yep, your body knows its master alright."
Traitor! she hisses at her body. It stills. For the moment. But still hungers, her depths calling for him.
Yes, her body knows its mate.
But her heart calls him enemy.
And her mind tries to sort out what to believe. It's still him. But it's not. He's cruel, a murderer, heartless and hard. Inside, all over and down there.
"Don't fight it. I can smell your need."
Damn, vamp senses!
"Do you want to know what you smell like, what you taste like when you're all wet and eager for me?"
Oh gods, please stop talking! You know what it does to me.
"Heady, powerful, spicy, sweet, delicious and dangerous. You're a fucking feast."
Oh gods!
She can already feel the dampness saturating her panties.
"Yes, moan for me. I know it turns you on when I talk like this."
The arm curled around her loosens and travels down her body. But she doesn't even try to break free or run. Her nails dig into his arm as his hand snakes down into her pants and under her panties. Cool fingers glide through her curls, dance along her slick entrance before two of them dive in.
"You're soaking wet, Buffy. And so damn slick. Do you feel me?"
Oh gods, yesss! More!
And suddenly she's very relieved that his other hand is still over her mouth, keeping her quiet. Who knows what she'll beg him to do.
"Deeper?"
Her answer? She grinds into his hand.
"Yesss, take what you need." he encourages her.
And she's not one to be asked twice.
Pumping, humping, panting, they easily find their rhythm.
"I could spend all day and night between your thighs. Feast upon your lips with my mouth, drink your creamy juices, stab and fuck you with my tongue, pierce you with my fingers, slide them in and out of your slick heat before I bury my cock deep in your womb, then thrust and pump away inside of you until we can't move anymore."
Her insides are pulsing heavily, squeezing hard, gloving his fingers, almost breaking his bones. He knows what it means.
"Damn, you're so close. Come for me, lover." he purrs.
And she does. Willingly. Helplessly.
"Yeah, just like that."
She trembles and shudders through her orgasm. Her limbs grow weak and lose their hold, but he catches her.
"I've got you." he assures tenderly.
Her head rolls back into his chest and he looks down into her sated face. Her eyes are closed, her expression relaxed, the epitome of satisfaction.
"You're beautiful." he whispers in her ear and waits for her to regain control of her limbs.
He has more plans for them.
When she's steady, he turns them around to face the wall. His long duster will hide her from the world and what they'll do.
"Are you ready for me?"
She wants to say no, but her body trembles in anticipation. It needs this. She needs this. Just one more time. Before she kills him.
"Damn, you're so short in sneakers."
Has always been. But when they were patrolling together there was usually a tombstone he placed her on before he ravished her with kisses and touches.
"Step onto that."
No soul, but still resourceful. Some things never change. But this is not the time for regrets.
"That's better."
She agrees. Now her ass is perfectly aligned with his crotch. She wriggles urgently against it.
"But I wish you'd worn one of your skimpy skirts."
Same here.
She needs him inside her. NOW! She needs to feel complete. Just one more time.
"Bend forward and brace you hands against the wall."
She complies while he works her pants and panties down her legs.
"Yeah, just like that. You're fucking gorgeous."
For a moment he's distracted by the beautiful sight in front of him. But his cock twitches in hunger, reminds him of what he came here for. He opens his belt buckle and the button of his leathers underneath. And as soon as the zipper's down, his shaft springs free, straining towards her.
Her stance is wide enough, perfect even. He closes in on her, brushes against her back and then slides into heaven.
"Jesus Buff, you're still so tight."
He stills completely, savoring the feel, his claws digging into the mortar to keep himself from moving. But she's impatient, pushing back against him, earning for friction, for release.
This time it's him who complies.
"You feel so… yesss… move with me."
It's fucking unbelievable how in sync they move even though they only spent one night together. It's perfection, quickly spiraling out of control.
"Almost… there."
The same goes for her. But he needs something more from her, her complete surrender.
"I want to… taste you." he growls desperately.
"Will you… let me… taste you?"
She's surprised he's actually asking. He's usually the want-take-have-kinda vampire. But this sweet gesture fills her with joy. She offers the right side of her neck, the spot he had claimed nights ago.
He purrs in delight and the sound reverberates against her body, doubling her arousal.
Gods!
She loves that sound and the mouth on her neck. But nothing compares to the sharp fangs piercing her skin, pushing down into her vein. She shatters in his arms and he releases her mouth so she can cry out her pleasure.
"Yesss… come for me." he purrs against the shell of her ear before he sinks his fangs into her neck again, eager to taste her utter completion.
It hits his tongue like a hurricane. He falls over, pushing them against the wall, barely able to cushion her head with his hand before he falls into the abyss with a roar.
It is the last thing she hears and feels. Then there's blackness. And not the kind that comes from closing your eyes. It's the orgasm of all orgasms.
"Buff?" he asks when he's calm again.
She's completely limp and unresponsive in his arm. It worries him.
"Buffy? Are you alright?"
Still no answer. He turns her around in his arms and looks at her more closely. She's blissfully out.
"Damn, I'm good." He smirks proudly and cradles her against his chest, then picks her up.
In urgent, silent strides he carries her to his new lair, the abandoned, monstrous mansion on the hill. It'll be their new home. No, it already is their new home because she is finally here.
And it is time to christen the bed. He puts her down gently. He knows it's now or never. So he follows as instinct dictates.
When she comes to there's warmth and smooth hardness inside her and surrounding her. Ambrosia is sliding down her throat. She opens her eyes in wonder and puzzlement. She is at his throat, teeth clamped into his skin, and drinking his blood.
I AM NOT A VAMPIRE!
She pulls back in shock and looks right into his dark pools of love.
"Welcome back, lover." He purrs, closes his eyes and offers her the wound she's made in his neck again.
The End
So... was is good for you too? *cheeky grin*
Original Version
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