He was crawling out of his skin. Restlessness screeched its way through his being and he hissed, rubbing the back of his neck with rough movements. Impatiently, he tore off the confining white t-shirt and slung it haphazardly to the ground, dragging his hands through his hair while he muttered curses in an impressive array of languages. He was feeling claustrophobic. Lately, he *always* felt claustrophobic, the hotel room shrinking with every aggravated movement as he walked incessantly back and forth across the hard wood floor.
It was noon. By all accounts he should be sleeping the daylight away. Instead he was pacing a rut into the ground and glaring at nothing in particular. Glaring viciously at the shielded windows, he noted the shards of light sneaking past the weathered shutters. He wanted to leave, he wanted to sink into the shadows and hunt the women who had torn through the reality he’d begun to build, through the life he‘d begun to create. He wanted to destroy the beings that brought back the past with vicious clarity. He wanted to rage his vengeance on the very evil he knew now he’d never be able to defeat.
He could never win? Evil would always triumph? So be it. But revenge. . .that he could take.
But only after dark.
Hissing loudly, he stalked to his bedroom and tossed himself face down onto the bed. He buried his face deeply in the cool covers, closing his eyes against his tension as he forced himself to ignore the tightness lining every muscle in his back.
It worked for all of five minutes.
Moments later, he was up and prowling again, kicking at random items to display his obvious frustration. Something was lodged in his gut, something had dug its claws deeply into his brain that he couldn’t shake loose. Something deeper than Darla, deeper than Drusilla, deeper than that God-damned law firm. Was there anything out of place? Something he’d forgotten? Something missing? Another impatient growl tore past his throat.
He remained in this agitated state for what seemed to be hours, prowling the length of the spacious hotel room until he’d circled the entire thing to many times to coherently count. With every passing moment his restlessness grew, his impatience increased. Finally, a sharp knock at his door interrupted the monotony of his aggravation and he stalked towards the door, mouth open to yell as he shoved it open.
She smelled like sunshine and rain, like honey and night blooming jasmine. Her hair glistened like burnished gold and her voice when she spoke was smoke sheened and husky, like good Irish whiskey.
"You seem happy to see me."
It was then he realized the glare was still plastered across his features. He ordered them to soften as he drank in her form like a man starved for drink. She was absolutely gorgeous. Her compact little body was draped in a lily white sundress that seemed to float across her sun kissed flesh, her arms slim and bare as they shifted to tug up her purse.
"Buffy."
Her head tilted slightly as she studied him curiously. He seemed haggard, taut with tension, and his voice when he spoke her name was just a little desperate. She touched his arm lightly.
"Are you okay?"
He was still to entranced in *her* to even comprehend the question as he drew in her warmth, her scent, her everything. And he wanted her with a primordial lust that seemed to vibrate through his entire being. All the restlessness, all the impatience, all the bitterness, all the caged animal violence honed into a sharpened blade that shot right into his loins.
Leaving no room for thought, no room for doubt, he grasped her upper arms and lifted her against his frame, searing his lips to hers in a violent kiss that had her moaning in response. She was still too shocked to respond, so he plundered her mouth still further, slamming the door shut with his foot as he pressed her against wall and took everything she offered. His tongue stroked hers, forced her to respond to his insistent ministrations. Slowly she began to respond, desire clouding her judgment.
Her arms draped around his neck, her hands combed through his hair and her tongue met his just as urgently. She felt his growl against her chest as she lifted her legs to wrap tightly around his hips and purred in feminine satisfaction. His hardness pressed against her with steely insistence and the purr lengthened to a moan that had his hands reaching behind her to grasp her rear and press her firmly to his flesh. Flame reared through both their heads, white hot licks of vibrant passion that had him gasping in unneeded breath and her trembling for more.
Her core wept for him and he growled at the potent scent, teeth bluntly nipping at her lips as he stalked mindlessly for the bed. She was wrapped around him, completely engulfed in his strength, in his beauty, in his need. Her limbs trembled against him as one large hand streaked along her spine to bury itself in her hair and force her head to one side, his lips mauling her neck in hungry, love swept abandon. Whimpering with need, she buried both hands in his hair and pressed his face closer, eager for the masterful touch that sent heat straight to her center.
His knees hit the end of the bed and he threw himself forward, arms catching his weight just before it buried her in the mattress. She remained firmly attached to him, her arms wanted chains around his neck as she forced her lips to his. Heat pulsed, pounded, throbbed and she cleaved upward to press his painful erection into the moist juncture of her thighs. He growled, a deep, throaty vibration that had her moaning urgently in response.
It was like holding sunlight. She seared through his flesh, tore at his very being as she fell limply to the mattress and left him free to take her as he wished. His lips melted hers once more before they lowered to follow the slender column of her neck, the delicate center of her breast bone. And when his lips encountered the light fabric of her dress his hands tore through the weak material without a moments regret and left her bare to his vision. The scraps of pale pink lace had him all but drooling as she lay arching beneath him.
Unable to sate his hunger with mere sight, his tongue lapped at the gentle curves of her breasts, traced along the edges of the satiny bra, dipped just beneath and had her cooing breathlessly. Her hands raked urgently through his hair and he growled against her skin when they reached lower to grasp his shoulders with tiny, steel like fingers. The bra fell to his strength and he tore it away, leaving her nearly nude before him and gasping with need. Without hesitation his lips latched onto the pebbled peak of her left breast. She tasted like sweetened cream, like the tarts his mother used to bake, like fresh, sun ripened strawberries, like salvation. Her breathy moans and gentle gasps were his benediction, his harp song, his heaven, and he basked in them like a pilgrim before an alter.
"Angel, Angel. . .GOD, don’t stop, don’t stop."
His name on her lips was redemption and his lips roved lower, delved in the gentle dip of her belly, suckled on the silky flesh above her womb. The delicate panties fell to the floor, little more than mangled lace. The dark softness of her curls, the wanton smell of her need for him. . .for *him* had the primal, possessive need rearing its violent head, and with little warning his tongue slipped past the soft shield of lust heated skin and tasted her core. Her moans erupted into screams as he drove her ruthlessly, viciously to peak. Lost to the encompassing wave of pleasure, her hands buried themselves once again in the soft strands of his hair and pressed him to her weeping center.
"m-more, more, more. . .Angel, ANGEL, hmmmmmmmIloveyouIloveyouIloveyou"
The long purr accentuating his name, those three words’ he’d convinced himself he didn’t need, were followed by a luscious arch of her muscular back as an orgasm rippled through her. Greedily he lapped at her, remembering good wine and rich chocolate as he drank in the moisture she gave freely and lushly. She went limp then, as he slowly kissed his way back to her lips. The shock to her system had her quivering, her moan shaky as his lips met hers in a tender meeting of tongues. She tasted herself in his kiss, tasted his love, tasted his pain, tasted his desperation. The tension still vibrated through his muscles as he pressed upon her and she found herself rushed by a wave of gentleness when her arms lifted to drape his taut back in calming silence, her hands slowly smoothing his knotted flesh until he groaned and collapsed upon her.
She knew. She just knew.
Lifting her knees to cradle him, she slowly tugged him upwards until he pressed to her center, throbbed at her entrance. Humming her pleasure, her hands pressed to his cheeks and she kissed him delicately, soothingly, and his tears fell and mingled with hers. Then slowly, achingly slowly, he slipped into her tight velvet, stretched her with his girth, encased himself in her heat until he was blind to everything but her.
But then, he’d always been.
He buried himself in her, groaned when her legs wrapped tightly around him, encasing him, protecting him, keeping him with her. And when a broken sob tore from his chest, she clutched him tighter and all was still. He pulsed deep within her core, yet he couldn’t bring himself to move. . .not yet. Her love surrounded him like a warm caress, soothed his heart, was balm to his soul. He was still, deep within her, and he was home.
Gently, so gently, her movements instinctively nurturing, she pressed her lips to the hard line of his jaw. He trembled, sobbed once more, burying himself in the curve of her shoulder, in the warmth of her hair. She sighed tremulously. Tiny hands lifted to stroke his shoulders, his neck, his cheeks, and she kissed his temple lightly, her voice whisper soft and as healing as divine intervention.
"Don’t you know how beautiful you are? . . .Don’t you know how much your worth. . .Don’t you know how much your loved?"
The coolness of his tears dripped along her flesh and she pressed his head into the safety of her neck, raked her hands gently though his hair. "My love. . .my dark love. . .My Angel. . ." His pain seemed to burn deep within her soul and tears coursed a warm trail down her cheeks, burying themselves in his hair as he shook violently against her. Her hands continued their soothing movements as she clenched him deep within herself and had him groaning mournfully in response. She ducked her head and pressed a moist kiss on his shoulder, then murmured in a voice thick and firm with love.
"Take me. . ."
He didn’t hesitate, didn’t consider the consequences, he only knew her heat as he began to move deep within his mate, his love, his savior. He knew no doubt, knew no pain as she arched against him and bared her throat, he knew no guilt as his lips pressed to the scar he’d made so long ago. . .And he knew no regret when his fangs extended to pierce her flesh and release her life to him.
The guttural moan that slipped past her lips as she met his slow thrusts spurred him, the heady potency of her blood strengthened him, and his movements grew quicker, harder, deeper. Her moans soon turned to helpless cries of pleasure as he suckled from her, pounded into her, took her into himself as he sought to release himself into her. He would have died then, would have died with a smile on his lips had anyone tried to take her from him. She was *his*. She coursed through his veins, pumped through his dead heart, fed his broken soul, sated the addiction he had only for the vibrant flash of light he held in his arms like a man sinking in quicksand.
This was love, pure and untainted. This was belonging. This was home.
This was Buffy.
She lost count of her orgasms as he pounded into her, suckled from her, could no longer tell the beginnings from the ends as she trembled, clenched, vibrated around him. He was relentless, tireless, completely lost in her, and she relished the heat he seemed to pour into them both with sheer will. He was so *big*, so wonderfully big. He filled her like no man could, completed her like no living being could ever hope to accomplish. Slayers blood, rich and powerful, pumped through him like uncut heroin, made him feel endless, boundless, omnipotent. He craved her even while he had her, needed her even when she was milking him deep within her core and weeping his name. With her, he could do anything, with her he *was* somebody, with her he was worthy.
Their pelvises slammed together until the bed groaned in response. The coupling was violent, could even be called soul searing as he forced himself still deeper. She gasped, receiving him with open arms and tear soaked eyes. As his orgasm approached and she felt him tighten within her, he slammed into her with an impossibly deep thrust that had pain silvering the edges of her pleasure, a pain that mingled with the burning in her throat as he took from her what she so freely offered. She bit her lip until she drew blood as he thrust into her again, again, then one last time until he roared a roar of un-equivocated release and a pain that had her weeping gently beneath him. His seed shot deep within her womb, had her gasping her pleasure as he emptied himself within her.
Then all was silent.
His weight was a welcome one as he lay quivering atop her. Her hands lifted to stroke his broad shoulders. . .so strong . . .so broken. . .while she cried softly from the pain she’d heard in his cries, from the agony she felt in his body. He was limp against her, his face buried in the lush curves of her breasts as she felt his quivering turn to trembles. Vaguely he felt her reach down to drape the covers over them both, felt her soft touch gently sooth away the cold that froze his skin with something much worse than death. Her lips pressed warmly to his forehead as she held him protectively against her. He was safe. . .with her, he was always safe. He felt that light, that light he’d though he’d forgotten, seep back into his soul and he sobbed against her skin.
"Its alright. . .I’m right here. . .your not alone anymore. . ."
The sobs grew uncontrollable as he clutched her like he would a lifeline. She *was* his lifeline. . .Without her, there was nothing but darkness. . .nothing but pain. The vicious self hatred, the violent hopelessness that had clouded his vision for so long slowly began to lift like a black fog drifting away to the gentle insistence of the wind. She was bringing him back. . .
She always brought him back.
"y-you knew. . .you knew. . ."
His voice was hoarse from weeping and she shushed him gently, her arms tightening around him. She was so warm, so firm, so real beneath him and he clutched her that much tighter. Like one would a child, she cradled him against her, whispering sweet nothings into his ear as she raked a hand through his hair, stroked another along his spine. Her love seeped into the cracks of his heart, evicted the black that had begun to creep into his soul and he moaned tremulously against her, murmuring her name when she shifted slightly to hold him tighter.
"Hush now, love. . .Its over. . .your safe. . .and we’re together. . ."
"Don’t leave. . .please don’t leave me. . ."
The whisper was broken against her skin and she traced the lines of his back with trembling hands as she wept silent tears for her love, for his pain, and pressed her lips to his head reassuringly. "I won’t. . .I promise I won’t go. . .I’ll be here. . .waiting for you. . .I’ll be here. . .go to sleep now. . .just sleep. . ."
Her voice became a soothing croon as she stroked his hair softly. "My love. . .my sweet love. . .got to sleep. . .things will be better when you wake up. . .I promise. . .sleep now. . ."
Lulled by her soft murmurs, by her gentle scent clouding his senses, he sank into oblivion when it called his name, sank into the lushness that was Buffy, and allowed sleep to enfold him in its warm embrace.
And when he awoke to an empty bed, to an empty room, he buried himself in the cool covers. Her scent remained. . .even though she’d been nowhere but in his dreams, that sweet smell that was Buffy still lingered like delicate torment in the cool night air. He allowed himself the tears, allowed himself the dry sobs as he buried himself in the soft pillows, allowed himself to mourn for the comfort he’d never truly received, but had healed him nonetheless. "Buffy. . ." His low whisper echoed off the empty walls and mocked him with his loneliness. He was alone. . .he was always alone. . .
"I’m here. . ."
His gasp was audible as he felt her tiny hands stroke his back softly. She was wearing a soft t-shirt, her hair long and trailing down her slim back as she lowered herself into the bed with nimble grace. Hungry for her, he curved into her warmth. Burying his face in her soft belly as she leaned against the headboard, he groaned when he felt her strong arms encase him in her love.
"Your real. . ."
Her smile was brilliant, flooding his world with sunlight, exuding the unconditional love she graced him with when he gazed up at her like an awed child. Stroking his cheek softly, she bent to press a kiss to his forehead.
"Of course I’m real, silly. . ."
"Why. . ." His voice broke on a shudder when her fingers slowly traced his lips. The smile gentled when she bent once more and replaced her fingers with her lips. She drank in his whimper as she slowly sipped at his lips, warmed their cold flesh until his shaking had lessened to gentle shivers. Lifting her lips from his, she stroked his cheek softly.
"I heard you calling me. . .I had to come. . ."
"thought I was dreaming. . .thought you left. . ." His words were muffled as he buried his face in her smooth skin once more, sinking into her gentle caresses when relief drained the energy from every muscle in his body. She’d heard. . .she’d heard his screams and she’d come to pull him back from oblivion. . .His slayer. . .his angel. . .his Buffy
"Not a dream, my love. . .I’ll never leave. . ." Her smile grew sad as she drew her fingers carefully through his hair. . ."Not even if you leave me." Pressing a kiss to his trembling shoulders, she held him close and silently chased his demons away.
Fin
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