"So why are you out?" she asked herself. She knew the answer. She was hoping to run into Angel. The fact that she would probably get her butt kicked across the cemetery and back if she did encounter him was beyond the point. This had gone on too long and she wanted it done.
She had hoped that physical activity would push the infection out of her body faster. "Not so much luck on that," she murmured. She felt as if she was going to collapse at any minute. What good was a sick Slayer? She had not been totally ineffective, but she was not at the top of her game.
She closed her eyes and felt the earth beneath her feet begin to spin. "Not good," she whispered, trying to fight off the rush of branding heat flowing through her body. If she just sat for a minute she would be okay. She found her way to a marker she could sit on, memory and dumb luck got her there. The gray spots in front of her were everywhere, floating dots of nothing that seemed to call to her. She was not sure where they would lead her but she was tempted to follow.
Her contact with the cold stone of the marker helped keep her body from taking her to a complete state of delirium. "I'll just rest a minute," she murmured. She was supposed to meet Xander and Willow at The Bronze. She was no longer sure she was going to make it. Her bed, some of her mom's chicken soup, and lots of sleep sounded better to her right now.
"Are you trying to get killed, Lover?"
"Why not just put a big neon sign above you with an arrow pointing at your head saying ‘Slayer for the taking'?"
He walked toward her and placed a hand against her forehead. For a moment she could give into the dream that he was Angel again, her boyfriend coming to take care of her.
"You're burning up. Even I can feel how hot you are."
She grabbed a hold of his wrist with surprising speed given her present condition. "No," she whimpered, bringing his hand back to her face. "Mmm," she said when his cool hand pressed against her skin again.
She had no idea what she had just opened herself up to. An attack by Angelus. But not of the fighting to the death variety.
His hand slid to her cheek, the other one joining it and she moaned in response. It felt so good, cooling. She did not feel like her body was going to burn into oblivion when he touched her.
She opened her eyes. The gray spots were diminishing so she could now see the outline of him as he closed in on her. She was too slow to react and was glad it was her mouth he was aiming for and not her neck. She would have been helpless to stop him.
It was like kissing Angel again for a second. His mouth was tender and sweet, gently coaxing a response from her. Months of kissing made it easy for him to get the desired response out of her. Her lips parted and his tongue darted into her mouth.
Without thought she scooted toward the edge of the marker, inviting him to step into the V of her legs. His hands slid from her face to her waist. She was about to protest the loss of cold against her skin until she realized he was lifting her sweater.
A protest was in the back of her mind. She should not let him do this. But the sweater was sliding up the length of her torso and arms, over her head and off. The cool night air lapping against her body sent a pleasant chill through her. It was not enough to break the raging fever but it gave her hope something might just do it.
His hands skimmed the length of her waist in a slow and deliberate manner. "So tiny," she heard him murmur and was not sure he really said it. Was he even truly there? It was possible that she was hallucinating this whole thing.
He reached around to her back and unhooked her bra, letting it fall to the ground with her sweater. "So hot to the touch," she heard him say as one hand came to rest at the base of her throat. His fingertip began a slow trail from her neck to her chest.
He cupped first one breast than the other, stroking each peak with his thumb. The cool air already had them at attention but his ministrations made her body ache and long for completion. "Angel," she murmured still wary this was all a dream.
She had full use of her vision now, but she knew her fever was too high. She should be in a hospital or home in bed not in a cemetery half naked with her murderous ex-boyfriend seducing her. His hands felt so good, though. Cool to the touch as if he was the cure for what ailed her.
She arched into him when she felt his lips close over one of her peaks. She heard a low growl emit from his throat as he lapped at her breast. His hands skimmed lower along her waist, finding the waistband of her slacks. They would slide off without much effort on his part because they were sweats with elastic at the waist not a tie.
She fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, wanting to feel all of him against her. There was no doubt in her mind that he was all that she needed to get better. Her hands slid along the spans of his chest as he lowered her sweats to her knees.
He nipped lightly at her breast, no game face or vampire fangs were part of the equation. His head moved lower, leaving a trail of bite marks along her abdomen until he disappeared between her legs. She grabbed a hold of his hair, needing some evidence that this was really happening.
He used a finger to push aside the crotch of her panties and lapped at her very core. She was wetter than wet, ready for him. The wind was beginning to be an annoyance, she wanted his body against her, cooling her.
He slid her panties down, pushed them down to her ankles with her sweats. He slid a finger inside of her and she thought she was going to go off just from that. She was no longer sure if the heat coursing through her body was from the fever or the vampire sucking and licking the very spot he knew would set her off.
"Angel," she pleaded, arching her body further in response, seeking purchase with her hands against the cold stone beneath her.
He continued licking, sucking and biting her, bringing her closer and closer to the edge. His finger was joined by a second while his thumb began stroking her nub. He slid his mouth to her inner thigh and imbedded his fangs into her there in time with her release. It was like nothing she had experienced before. She saw brightly colored stars and dots, a welcome change from the bland and hazy grays she was seeing earlier.
He stood then, game face still in place, his eyes the deep amber she knew so well when he was in this face, his fangs coated with blood. Her blood. He picked her up, placing her on the ground behind the marker.
"My shoes," she whispered. "I need to take off my shoes." Her feet were helpless and constricted with her clothes still at her ankles.
"I'll take off your shoes," he growled as he unbuttoned the fly of his black leather pants. He knelt at her side, removing her shoes and setting them beside her before sliding her sweats and panties the rest of the way off.
He moved on top of her, kneeling between her legs. She had spread them for him, anticipating this. It most likely was not happening anyway so she may as well get the full treatment in her state of mind.
She was completely naked while he did little more than push his pants down to his thighs. "Tell me you want me, Buff."
"That's not what I told you to say." He thrust his hips, rolling them so his erect member slid over and around her slick entrance.
She said nothing at first, hoping he would not be able to hold back and just enter her. Evidently, he had more control than she did because he repeated his teasing but that was all. "I want you, Angel."
He was in her in a matter of seconds. Hard, fast, deep with little to no warning. She was ready for him physically, but it was still a shock to her system to have him inside of her. There was no gentleness to it this time.
He gathered her into his arms, holding her body against his as if he, too, knew she needed his coldness against her to make her better.
He drove into her almost relentlessly but she took it, her legs skimming the length of his calves meeting his thrusts as best as her inexperienced body could. The bite mark on her thigh ached from the friction as his skin rubbed against it. It was a pleasurable sort of pain, something she never thought she would like.
He tilted her head to the side. "So tight," he murmured as he sank his fangs into her neck, stifling his groan that accompanied his release.
He continued pushing in and out of her, bringing about her release again expertly. Two hundred fifty years give or take of experience qualified him as an expert. He continued drinking from her and she was beginning to see gray again.
He growled, starting to drive into her again. She felt he was hard again and her body responded in a rush of what felt like hot molten, accepting his powerful thrusts until they were both sated.
"Angel," she whispered. "Stop, you're taking too much," she said weakly. His body felt good against hers, but she was weak and helpless to do anything to get him off of her.
He retracted his fangs from her neck and lapped at the wounds with his tongue. "I was trying to rid your body of the infection."
"Oh," she said softly, closing her eyes. "I don't feel too good."
"You feel pretty good to me."
She opened her eyes then, pleased to see the familiar brown eyes again. This was not her boyfriend, but he sounded sincere. She looked at his face, taking the moment in knowing it would be the last she would get with him. "Thank you."
"Anytime, Lover," he said and slid off of her body, which at the moment felt well used and abused.
Story ©Susan Falk/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com