***Part 12***

Angel kissed Buffy as a drowning man clings to a lifesaver. Nothing else mattered but this girl in his arms. His girl. She was his girl before being able to put a name with the face that had always been there in his dreams. She was his even when he had left Sunnydale seven long years ago. He had been unable to resist taking one last look so that he might bask in the light and the good that was Buffy for what he believed was the last time. He had given back his humanity so that she might live longer. It was her name that he whispered while envisioning sex with Cordelia when they tore his soul from his body.

She broke the kiss and a growl of protest erupted from his throat. It quickly turned to a cat-like purr when her lips trailed seductive kisses along his jaw, his ear, the side of his neck. She nipped him and took his flesh in between her teeth, swirling the bit of skin with her tongue before letting it go and moving onto another patch of skin.

Mindful they lived in a residential area he knew they had to go inside. He wanted to take her then and there. He could probably get away with it given the late hour but she deserved better. Years of wanting her but not being able to doing anything about it were about to come to a screeching halt, though it was not soon enough as far as Angel was concerned.

He had toyed with the idea that curse or not he would never achieve a moment of true happiness again. That curse and losing his soul would be on his mind preventing that. How could he ever truly be happy when he feared losing his soul? He had never put it to the test, though. It would hurt them both too much if he were to lose his soul again.

Her agile fingers started working the buttons on his black silk shirt and it was then he knew it was up to him to lead them indoors. He drew away, missing the feel of her mouth, her warm body against him already. He took both of her hands into his and brought them to his mouth. "We have to go inside," he whispered, his eyes focused on her as he brushed his lips along her knuckles.

"Sure," she whispered.

Angel did not need his heightened senses to know she was as ready as he was. He led her to the house, hoping as they crossed the threshold that Spike and Illyria were either gone or anywhere but the living room. He knew Buffy did not want to rush into sex but he did not want seeing them to be the thing causing them to have to abstain further.

It appeared it was his night to get lucky all the way around because neither Spike nor Illyria were anywhere to be seen as they walked to his bedroom. He almost felt like they were doing something clandestine as they went silently through the house.

He closed his door and tried to think of something to say to her. At the moment, anything reasonable escaped him. When it got down to it he had waited over seven years for this and he did not want to talk to her anymore. It appeared she was not looking for witty conversation, though, because she closed the distance between them almost immediately after the door closed.

"I know you haven't forgotten what comes next," she whispered, her eyes cloudy with desire. She resumed the task of unbuttoning his silk shirt and he just stood there, frozen in place as her hands worked their magic. All she had to do was touch him and he got aroused.

"Hardly," he managed to choke out as her lips closed over his Adam's apple.

"Good," she said in a purr.

His shirt all the way unbuttoned, she placed her hands against his bare chest and he felt as though he had been branded. Emotionally he had been branded by her long ago. He drew her to him suddenly, severely, hoping she did not hold him accountable for his actions just then. She had him on the verge of throwing her to the floor and they had not even started anything yet.

His mouth closed over hers, her hands skimmed up from his chest to his neck. She encircled him there, pressing her lithe, lush body into him and he was gone. Their mouths mirrored the eagerness the rest of their bodies felt. He sensed she felt the same urgency he did. He picked her up by placing his hands under her bottom and drawing her legs around his waist. She went willingly, without breaking the kiss to question his motives as he carried her to the bed.

She was looking up at him with complete adoration and trust in her eyes as he finished removing his shirt, tossing it aside carelessly. There was a time for being neat and tidy, this was not one of them. He would never get over the way she looked at him. The looks she gave him were usually his undoing, but he no longer had to worry about the repercussions of becoming undone around her. His slayer. His lover. His girl. Always she would be all of those things to him and more.

She giggled slightly as he moved to lie next to her on the king size bed. She looked perfectly at home on his black sheets. The color of her skin and hair offered a contrast of color he wanted to see there again and again. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, just nervous I guess," she said turning onto her side. She ran a fingertip along the side of his face, the edge of his jaw, his throat and his collarbone. Her touch betrayed her experience at lovemaking, something that made Angel's heart heavy. What if her experience with others left him lacking? What if the expectation of it being as good as the first time was left her disappointed?

She must have read his mind or seen the doubt in his eyes, because she moved her carousing fingertip from his shoulder and upper arm to his mouth. "Stop thinking so much," she whispered.

He kissed her fingertip, snatching it up and nibbling on the tip realizing she was right. He could not dwell on what if's because then he would surely disappoint both of them. They had plenty of time to get acquainted with one another as lovers once again.

She was on top of him in a matter of seconds, the move so quick he barely had time to prepare for the extra weight of her body as she straddled him. She smiled almost wickedly as she crossed her arms over the front of her body. He was not sure what she was going to do at first, but understanding crossed his face when he saw her hands slide to the bottom of her shirt. She evidently had not cleaned up after doing her routine tonight like she normally did. He had not taken the time to notice until now. She still had her makeup on and her hair was still pinned up severely so that she could wear the jet black wig she had used.

Her shirt removed, she leaned down to kiss him, no barrier separating their upper bodies from touching skin to skin. He took a deep intake of breath at the contact, reveling in the warmth of her, the feel of her. "Am I dreaming?" he whispered into the kiss.

She pinched him followed by a light laugh, coupled with grinding her lower body against his. "Does that feel like a dream?"

"I think I need to make sure," he said. His hands went to her hips and he repositioned them both with ease so that he was now on top of her. His hands made quick riddance of her pants and panties. He had often wondered when remembering the day only he remembered if he was exaggerating her perfection, her beauty, his inability to put into words how awe inspiring the fact that she wanted to give her body to him. Tonight, he was glad to know that his memories, his images that he once thought had to be too good to be true did not do her justice.

She grabbed the top sheet with her left hand and began to bring it up, but Angel stopped her hand's progress in covering her up. "No," he said his voice sounding foreign and hoarse to his own ears. "Let me look at you." She blushed, and he could see full well that it was not just on her face.

He was ready and eager for her, but he needed to take the time to worship her as she deserved to be loved and worshiped. Even an ex-god like Illyria did not come close to being worthy of the things Angel wanted to do to Buffy to prove his love and devotion.

His hands skimmed every inch of her, caressing, teasing as he slid slowly, seductively over her every curve. He was committing every part of her, her every reaction, to memory. He leaned down to kiss her, wanting to taste her. His mouth then followed the path his hands had just finished taking, kissing, licking, nibbling every inch of her flesh. Little marks were left here and there as he progressed.

He saved the best for last. His mouth tasted her folds and he thought he had found true ambrosia. Her soft mews of pleasure told him that his attentions were most welcome. He wanted nothing more than to bring her pleasure, but when he felt her getting close as his tongue swept over her nub he drew back. He glanced at her briefly before removing a hand from her body to his pants, working the fastenings.

He was more than ready, she was too and once his pants were shed he slid his body so he covered her completely. His eyes met hers, closing only when he was at her entrance ready to enter her. He forced his eyes to open again, wanting to see her, watch her as they become one again as a man and woman were supposed to do. "I love you," he whispered as he slid inside of her welcoming body.

"Love you, too," she whispered. Her arms slid around his neck, drawing him to her for a kiss. He felt her respond, felt her body move beneath his drawing him deeper into her where he belonged. He thought briefly that he might just never leave this place, this bed, her body. He knew it was not possible, but as her tongue sought out his he briefly believed that anything was possible so long as she was with him.

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