The Marriage To End All...

Picture from Raelyn.


Any and all nervousness Buffy had felt was gone the moment she laid eyes on Angelus.

He looked stunning, dressed in a white Elfin Silk shirt and Hunter Leather pants, which were tucked into his over the knee black boots. His powerful thighs were clearly outlined, thanks to the material, and the tie at his waist only emphasized the leanness of his build. Buffy just barely restrained herself from licking her lips in anticipation.

They came from opposite directions across the crag, her pure white dress billowing in the slight wind behind her. Gold chains held the material to her body, one slim one at her neck, encircling her throat and one each on her upper arms. Her back was completely bare except for the glued on jewels her maid had attached to her lower back this morning. The onyx and rubies, twelve each, were shaped in an elaborate ‘A.’ 

Buffy was sure Angelus would approve of that and smiled again as the High Priestess took her position between the couple.
Darla watched from the shadows. 

Tradition in the Land of Light demanded that the mated couple perform the ceremony at dawn on the highest point in the kingdom. Magick in the Lands was greatest at dawn when the sun broke over the people, bringing forth a new day. Anything done during this peak was considered binding, unbreakable, and forever. The fact that this marriage was consecrated here, now, meant that Angelus was serious about marrying the little tart – er, elf.

Sacrifice Rock, the designated location for the ceremony, was currently surrounded. A hundred elves and vampires, plus enough guards to form a complete regiment, stood as witness, thereby precluding Darla’s, ah, participation. It looked like her childe was taking no chances with the safety of his new little plaything. 

Of course, with the magicks surrounding the crag, the sun shinning its protection upon the couple, and the fact that word had already spread about the seriousness of this union, nothing probably could stop the ceremony.

There had to be a way to move back into the castle and into Angelus’ life, Darla thought as the Elfin Ceremony was preformed. Move back in and take her rightful place by the Ancient’s side as his Queen. She refused to believe that she was permanently out of his life, replaced by a mere child who knew nothing of their ways, wants, and desires. 

“I, Buffy, Daughter of Rupert, King of Elves, do hereby declare my life irrevocably bound to Angelus, Ancient, Master, and King of Aurelius,” she repeated as her palm was sliced open and her blood dribbled into a gold goblet as part of the Elfin Ritual. 

“I, Angelus, Ancient, Master, and King of Aurelius, do hereby declare my life irrevocably bound to Buffy, First Princess and Daughter of Rupert, King of Elves,” Angelus said as his blood flowed into the goblet to mix with Buffy’s.

Darla watched, fascinated, and wondered why mixing the mated couple’s blood seemed so important to the elves. That was rarely done in vampiric society, at least not to non-vamps. When Buffy drank from the goblet before giving it to Angelus, Darla almost combusted on the spot; if the sun in the Lands had been harmful to vampires, that’s exactly what would have happened to Darla, so surprised was she. 

They were being joined; permanently, irrevocably, forever. What the hell? Her childe, her beautiful creation was bonding himself to an elf? Marrying her at this time of day, with these witnesses and the High Priestess herself was one thing, and, given time, could be weakened if not completely destroyed. But this…this was serious. This was a joining of their very essences into one complete being. Was he out of his mind? 

The worst, however, as far as Darla was now concerned, came next. 

The Vampire Joining Ritual. The ritual that was impossible to break, no matter the magicks one had access to; this ritual, once preformed, was as forever as the Elfin one. Darla had half a mind to race forward and put a stop to the madness that had obviously gripped her childe, but there were too many witnesses. Such public display of disobedience, no matter the fact that she was Angelus’ sire, was grounds for death. 

A slow, painful, and mightily prolonged death that Darla had no wish to endure. 

Sure enough, the words were repeated for all to hear and this time Angelus kissed Buffy, holding her head gently in his big hands. He smiled at her for a brief second before guiding her lips to his neck, positioning his own over the pulsing vein in her neck. Simultaneously they both bit, drawing blood from the other, their bodies convulsing in orgasm. 

Darla blinked; positive she hadn’t just witnessed what she had just witnessed. No, it wasn’t possible! 

But Angelus was licking the puncture wounds closed, murmuring words too soft for even her advanced hearing to pick-up. He had marked her and, damn the little elf, she had marked him as well! 

Darla refused to be cowed, however. She may have lost her beautiful Angelus to a child-elf, but she would, she vowed, somehow regain her rightful place by his side.
Rupert looked on as his only daughter wedded herself to a vampire. And not just any vampire, no it was the meanest, most powerful and vicious in all the lands. Naturally, she just couldn’t do anything simple and small, could she?

He was a commanding being in his own right, king of the elves and a powerful mage with access to magicks very few suspected of even existing. But he could not change Buffy’s mind. He had tried, bringing up Angelus’ past, the slaughters he was famous for and the fact that he had used and discarded more women than populated all the lands, but Buffy would hear none of it. 

Oz was no help, either, though Rupert knew the First had tried to talk Buffy out of this as well. Still her childhood friend now stood by her as both guard and witness to this ceremony. It eased his mind, somewhat, to know that the younger man would guard Buffy with his very life, but that didn’t change the fact that it was Rupert’s daughter who was pledging her life to such a sadistic creature. 

Maybe he was going about this all wrong, Rupert thought suddenly as Angelus drank from the chalice. Maybe instead of fighting this marriage, he should be accepting it. He didn’t wish to lose his daughter and knew Buffy’s stubborn streak better than almost anyone. If he accepted this, accepted Angelus, and Buffy’s obvious feelings for the vampire – despite the one meeting they’d had before the marriage negotiations – then he, Rupert, wouldn’t be in the wrong when her husband cheated on her. 

And he had no doubt that Angelus would, though it broke Rupert’s heart just thinking on it. A creature such as the Ancient couldn’t exactly change, could he? Rupert didn’t think so, but then looked at Angelus, really looked at the vampire. While his face was an indifferent mask, Angelus’ smile when he looked at Buffy was enough to make the Elf King think that maybe there was something else there.

No matter, Rupert would accept this marriage, he’d do his best to befriend Angelus and when the vampire shunned his advances, when he refused to accept the hand of friendship Rupert extended, it wouldn’t be the elf’s fault. And when Angelus eventually cheated on Buffy…and Rupert killed him for even thinking it let alone trying it…then he could honestly tell his daughter that he had tried. 

It was a perfect plan and one Rupert intended, as he watched the couple mark each other in the Vampire Ceremony and tried not to wince at the display, to put into action immediately. Granted, this marriage was forever, there was nothing that could break it, not with the sheer amount of magicks in the air and the two dissimilar yet parallel ceremonies uniting and connecting them. However…the priestess was slicing their palms again, and when Angelus curled his fingers around Buffy’s smaller hand mingling their blood in the third and final way, Rupert was abruptly shaken from his earlier thoughts. 

The vampire looked protective of his daughter, Rupert thought, squinting his eyes against the glare of the morning sun to better focus on the image he saw clearly enough. Well, Hades be damned, look at that. It was a simple gesture, true, and one that probably meant nothing, but when Angelus held his new wife’s hand, allowing their blood to fuse, he looked…protective. 

Maybe this giving Angelus a chance thing wouldn’t be so difficult after all, Rupert thought as a flash of white gold lightening encircled the couple, as they exchanged Rings of Magick and Earth, joining their bodies and minds. Magicks surrounded them, sealing the bond and spreading over the witnesses for all to feel and acknowledge.

Rupert doubted it, doubted that Angelus could change even for Buffy, but anything was possible in this world. Even the marriage of a vampire and an elf.
Angelus kissed Buffy, the white gold light still fading, their hands still clasped though the cuts were rapidly healing. 

He moved his lips slowly over hers, just tasting her before drawing back. She smiled at him then, and without thought, he returned it. The priestess untied the ribbon tying their hands together and stepped back to allow witnesses and well-wishers to greet the couple. Still holding her hand, Angelus turned to Buffy’s father, wondering if he was going to be treated to more hostility from the elf. 

It wasn’t that he cared; Angelus could give as good as he got, but Buffy seemed to want them to get along and Angelus realized, very quickly, that whatever Buffy wanted, he wanted to give her. He hoped no one ever found out, his reputation as a vicious killer would be over for sure. 

Then again, to see Buffy smile at him as she did when she glowed with happiness it might be worth it. Maybe. 

“Congratulations, Buffy,” Rupert said, smiling down at his daughter. “And you, my…son,” he added, turning to Angelus and trying not to choke on the words. The vampire narrowed his eyes for a moment before accepting the greeting. 

“Thank you, Rupert,” Angelus replied as graciously as his suspicion allowed. 

Buffy smiled, well aware of the hostility between her father and husband, but hoping that it would be resolved in time. Or, at least, tempered.

At this point, as long as no blood was shed, she was happy.
It was odd, Buffy thought as the festivities wound down for the evening. She surveyed the remaining guests. Most had retired to their assigned rooms, or wandered home and those remaining were family; Angelus’ childer and Buffy’s father and two of his wives, and her brothers and their wives. Kynan stood apart from both groups, watching, as he always did, everything and everyone around him; Tara, his wife was home in Elfin territory, having just given birth to a son and was in no condition to travel.  

Nothing felt different.  

She was sure that once she and Angelus married, something would change: nothing had. She felt the same, looked the same, though she now carried a scar on the right side of her throat that marked her as Angelus’ for eternity and a ring on her left hand that matched the one Angelus wore. Maybe once she woke up in the morning? Would a new day make her feel differently? Buffy didn’t know.  

Sipping from her glass of wine, Buffy watched her that sounded strange, Buffy thought, My husband, my mate, mine, all mine.  

Smiling at him, a sexy curve of her lips as she ran those words again through her mind, ‘mine,’ Buffy watched Angelus as he laughed with a couple. Two of his childer, she believed, William and Drusilla. They were a strange couple to be sure, and Angelus had told her that Drusilla was a seer, gifted with visions of the past and future, though she didn’t live with the other Seers in the temple. He hadn’t gone into detail as to where Drusilla had acquired these visions, and Buffy hadn’t asked. Maybe someday.  

But they were polite enough to her and for now that was what counted. That could have been forced or faked for Angelus’ sake, true, but something the vampiress had said caused Buffy to think otherwise. Caused Buffy to believe that they knew she was meant to be here and meant to be with Angelus.  

Something about completing the cycle and fulfilling destiny. Or was that the cycle of destiny? Drusilla had rambled a bit and there was something thrown in about stars, and how they – the stars – were so pleased with them – Angelus and Buffy. Buffy didn’t understand all of that because they had been in the dining hall at the time and Dru couldn’t see the stars.  

Buffy didn’t pretend to understand it and from the looks of things, William and Angelus hadn’t either. But the two had nodded and Buffy had as well. Apparently, they were used to Drusilla’s visions and while they hadn’t understood it any more than she, they weren’t going to ignore it, either.  

Refocusing on Angelus, Buffy allowed her eyes to wander over him; muscular, toned, his Elfin Silk shirt accentuated his chest and shoulders while his pants, a soft buttery leather, molded to his hips and thighs perfectly. Licking her lips, Buffy raised her gaze back to his face to find him staring at her, a smirk on his sexy lips. Slowly raising an eyebrow at her, he tilted his head slightly to the side.  

She didn’t need to read his mind to know that he was silently asking her what she wanted. It was obvious from everything about him what he wanted: her.  

And Buffy knew exactly what she wanted: him. To leave this soirée and have him teach her more of the pleasures he had begun in the days before their marriage. Torn, Buffy said nothing, did nothing but continue to stare at him. Ignoring those still speaking to him, Angelus walked slowly towards her, smirk never leaving his face, his eyes dark with lust and need.  

“What are you thinking, my love?” He asked, bringing a hand to caress her cheek. “Want to leave?” His voice dropped to a sensuous whisper only she could hear. “Want to go back to our rooms, explore all the pleasures to be had in my bed, to indulge in every carnal pleasure we can imagine?”  

Swallowing, Buffy nodded, but didn’t move. “Yes,” she whispered, then, “But I don't want to be rude and leave.”  

Angelus laughed softly and the sound skimmed her skin in a soft caress. “You can do whatever you want, Buffy; you are Mistress here, you are their Queen.” He added brushing those lips she had just admired across her own, “If we desire to leave, we can. Who is going to stop us?”  

Locking passion drugged eyes with his, Buffy nodded. She wasn’t used to this, wasn’t used to having this freedom. In her father’s kingdom, it was unheard of to leave a gathering simply because you wanted to; etiquette demanded that royalty stay until the bitter end.

Taking her hand in his and tucking it through the crock of his elbow, Angelus led her out of the ballroom and to their rooms. Neither looked back, neither cared. Rupert grimaced but there was an indulgent gleam in his eye. William watched them and laughed to himself.  

“I wondered, pet,” he said to Drusilla who was also watching the newly wed couple, “How long it would take them to leave.”  
He wasn’t going to rush, no matter how desperately he wanted to bury himself in her soft heat. 

Angelus had waited all day to take his wife back to their rooms and consummate their marriage. He wasn’t used to waiting for anything especially when it came to indulging in his pleasures. But this wait, he was sure, was worth it. 

Kissing her slowly, his hands cupping her face, thumbs running over cheekbones, fingers tangling in the hair that hung loose around her face, Angelus explored Buffy. Her taste, her scent; every secret her mouth held, he sought, explored, and memorized, only to do it again. Never leaving her lips, his hands ran down her silk covered arms to her hands, entwining their fingers briefly.

Pulling back, Angelus turned Buffy around, lips playing over the exposed skin of her back while deftly unclasping the chains holding her gown. Possessive lust surged through him once again at the ‘A’ on her back and he carefully traced each jewel as, in a whisper of sound, the dress pooled at her feet. Leaving his wife beautifully exposed to his dark eyes. 

“Beautiful,” he whispered as his hands ran possessively over her silk clad thighs, undoing the stays holding the stockings up. “So beautiful, and all mine.” 

Buffy stepped out of her shoes then her stockings, standing before Angelus naked and open. Still she said nothing, she couldn’t; her breath clogged in her throat as she watched Angelus slowly make his way up her body. Lips cool and soft traveled over her rapidly heating flesh as his hands held her upright. 

Her knees buckled and Angelus swept her into his arms, laying her across their bed. “I swear to you, Buffy,” he said as his mouth nipped along her collarbone, “That I will worship you for as long as you wish me to; you are mine, my beloved, mine to do with as I please, mine only to pleasure, mine to teach, mine to worship.” 

Eyes, black in their need for her, locked with Buffy’s dark green ones and all she could do was nod. “Yes, yours,” she whispered. Her hands moving up his sides to tangle in his hair, holding his still as she added, “And you are mine, Angelus.” 

He said nothing, wasn’t sure there was anything to say, but he nodded. It wasn’t the verbal affirmation Buffy wanted, but it was a start. There was plenty of time for more, later. 

Angelus lowered his lips to her breast, and Buffy lost all train of thought, too immersed in the passion brewing inside of her.
Buffy stretched, feeling well loved and almost decadent. 

She rolled onto her stomach, feeling the soft sheets under her and smiled at the sensations. For two days straight, Angelus had taught her the finer points of pleasure with his hands, mouth, and teeth. Most especially his teeth, Buffy thought as her hand drifted to her neck, gently feeling the puncture marks that had been reopened throughout the preceding days. She couldn’t count the number of times he had made her orgasm by his bite alone, as if to prove that he could. 

It was a power he held over her that Buffy only now was beginning to understand, though she doubted that she ever truly would fully understand it. Maybe it was best to keep the element of mysticism to the rituals. Did she really want to understand? 

No, Buffy thought as she watched her lover…her husband walk back to their bed with a tray full of food. 

Smiling, she picked a slice of apple off the plate and nibbled on it. Licking a bit of clear juice that pooled on the corner of her mouth, she sighed and snuggled against Angelus’ broad chest as he climbed back into bed. 

“You were gone way too long,” Buffy said, feeding him a blood grape. She hummed in lust when he sucked her fingers into his mouth. 

“I was gone for a minute, tops, lover, to the door and back.” Her husband replied as he fed her another slice of apple. “You watched me the entire time; I felt your eyes on me.” 

“What can I say?” Buffy asked as she pulled his head down to hers, capturing his lips in a heated kiss. “I married you for your body.” 

Setting the tray on the floor, where several others were piled, waiting for the cleaning maids to remove them, Angelus slowly pushed Buffy back onto the bed, his hands already caressing her well-known curves. 

“I can live with that.”
Oz swallowed the bite of sandwich on his own tray. 

True to his word, Buffy’s First hadn’t moved from his position but three times. He had promised both himself and her, and Angelus once it was clear that the vampire accepted him as Buffy’s lead guard, that he would always protect her, no matter where or when. The fact that he had never – in his wildest dreams or worst nightmares – envisioned sitting outside the master wing of the Ancient of Aurelius as his mistress consummated her marriage to one of the leading vampires of the Continuum was almost unimportant. 

Shifting on the pile of plush pillows that had been his home for several days, Oz swallowed the rest of his drink and looked down the hall at the approaching footsteps. 

Elves had advanced hearing much like their vampiric neighbors but were more known for their prowess with sword and magick than superior senses. Recognizing the tread on the cold stone floor, Oz stood, prepared to greet his visitor. 

“Still here, I see,” the tall vampire guard said, laughter and respect mingling in his voice. “I’d have thought by now you’d be tired of waiting for them to leave the comfort of their rooms.” 

“I swore to always be there for my princess, even if it was outside her marriage chambers.” Oz said as he nodded to the guard. 

“She’s queen now,” Gunn replied casually though his voice was adamant about the title. Moving into position, he replaced Oz by the large wooden double doors. He was First to Angelus, and while the guard knew the master could take care of himself, most especially in the bedroom, he had to admire Buffy’s First and his dedication. 

Standing by the door, sword strapped to his hip, lance staff held rigidly before him, Gunn made an imposing figure. He wasn’t overly tall, but he carried himself with a confidence not many could claim. And while he wasn’t standing outside the master’s bedchambers, he was constantly monitoring security within the castle. 

As soon as Oz’s thirty-minute break was completed, he and the elf had several things to discuss. 

Walking stiffly and military straight, Oz didn’t let his bearing relax until he was in the relative comfort of his own rooms. Guards normally had a place in the barracks or, if they were higher in the chin of command, their own quarters still outside the castle proper. There were only two exceptions, Firsts who had smaller rooms near their masters or mistresses, and Head Knights who guarded the perimeter of the castle. 

Quickly checking his room, Oz locked the door before tossing his lance staff onto the bed. Sword, Ke’toth Dagger, and three smaller Ne’tetch Knives all followed before he shed his tunic and pants. Shucking off his knee high black Vampiric Leather boots, Oz removed another dagger, the Be’toth, a smaller version of the Ke’toth. Rotating his shoulders, he headed for the shower. 

Ten minutes later, refreshed as much as he could be with such a short washing, the First to the Queen reemerged, hair the color of a Land sunset in wild disarray, face cleanly shaven, and wrapped only in a soft Hunter Cotton towel. He eyed his bed longingly, but dressed in fresh clothing, rearming himself as before. It wasn’t that he hadn’t slept in the days since Buffy’s marriage, the pillows were quite comfortable and he was a light sleeper should anything untoward have happened. 

It was that they were pillows on a cold stone floor against a cold stone wall in a hallway. And the door wasn’t a thick as he’d hoped and both Buffy and Angelus were…loud. 

The years as First to the Princess – Queen, he reminded himself, she was Queen now – had spoiled him. Oz was used to the comforts of beds and clean linens on those beds. He was accustomed to eating only the finest foods and drinking from the finest vintages in the Lands. He was no longer required to spend long hours securing the parapets or patrolling the outer edges of the territory. And again, it wasn’t as if war was a constant threat, no it was merely to ensure that should such an unthinkable thing as war happen, that all the soldiers were ready. 

Combing his hair, Oz applied the gel Buffy insisted he use to tame the unruly locks. The best he had ever accomplished was to spike the red mass and call it a day. Straitening his tunic in the mirror, Oz double-checked his appearance before unlocking the door and leaving his chambers. 

Gunn stood exactly where Oz left him, twenty-eight minutes ago. Reliability was so hard to come by anymore, Oz mused as he walked towards his counterpart. Then again, when one was First to the Ancient of Aurelius one didn’t survive that position by slacking in one’s duties. 

Nodding to each other, the guards switched positions and checked the corridor for eavesdroppers before Gunn shared his information. 

The vampire had done so reluctantly at first, resistant to the idea that he wasn’t good enough to guard both Angelus and Buffy, but a simple conversation – and a small sword fight in the courtyard – convinced him that the smaller elf was not only worthy of his title as First, but most likely a damn fine officer to have on his side. 

“Darla is back in the Lands,” Gunn began in hushed tones. “I know I told you before of her sudden return before the wedding, but she hasn’t left. As of this morning she’s staying in one of the finer inns just outside the castle proper. There’s a rumor that she’s trying to regain her place in Angelus’ life.” 

“What was her place?” Oz asked, “And how long ago did she, ah, lose it?” 

“Her place was the weakling Sire to the Ancient of Aurelius; she was, technically, next in line after the old Ancient got himself killed in the Beast Lands while trying to tame a Gr’gon Dragon.” 

Gunn waited a moment for Oz’s response and wasn’t disappointed. “As in the largest most vicious dragons to ever roam any realm, land, or dimension?” At Gunn’s nod, Oz shrugged as if to say what did one expect? Gr’gon Dragons had never, in the history of history, been tamed. Or captured for that matter. 

“Darla wasn’t strong enough to hold the factions together and the Continuum didn’t trust her as far as a fledgling could throw her. Angelus, on the other hand, held both the fear of his people and the respect of the Continuum.” Gunn looked down the hallway and the pair watched as a serving girl crossed the section. 

“Not being the stupid vampiress, Darla didn’t challenge Angelus; instead she waited until after the inauguration before…relocating to the mortal realms. I hear she has quite a name for herself there.” 

Neither Gunn nor Oz seemed impressed with Darla’s accomplishments. It was incredibly easy to terrorize the mortal realms; they were afraid of anything non-human and even peaceful so-called ‘demons’ were hunted to the point of extinction. Myths and fairytales were things to tell children with a strident moral tone to the story and even places that based their cultures on such legends were superstitious enough to ward against them. 

“So does she want to usurp Angelus,” Oz asked, “Or does she want to rule by his side, take Buffy’s place?” 

“My guess is the latter; time and distance have done nothing to earn Darla enough power and backing to rule alone. And she always was the jealous type even when Angelus wanted nothing to do with her; which was more often than not.” 

“This marriage has solidified both Buffy’s and Angelus’ positions in the Lands, there isn’t much that will harm either of them now.” 

“I agree, but I don’t trust Darla. I’ve two of my best men trailing her. Their next report is due in six hours.” 

Oz nodded to Gunn as the latter strode away. And here he thought this week would be spent standing guard to a door and listening to things he’d rather not hear. Now he had to worry about rogue sires and plots against his mistress. 

About time there was some excitement.
Angelus watched his wife as she slept. 

She was most definitely beautiful and he doubted he had ever seen a more lovely sight as that of her, still flushed from orgasmic completion, naked and chained to his bed. She was an eager student in the arts of love, passionate and willing, and above all responsive. 

By the gods, she was responsive. Angelus raged with jealously at any who had previously touched her, but had yet to actually confirm any man’s identity. Once he did, they were sure to die an ugly and painful death. 

Running a cool hand over her bronzed thigh, he smiled with an obsession he had only ever felt when he had first ruled his kingdom. No, but it was more than that, he acknowledged as Buffy sighed his name in her sleep, trying to turn towards his body even with the chains holding her in place. Leaning down to brush her lips, Angelus tried not to think on that possessive obsession too much. 

He had wanted Buffy, now he had her, and he’d keep her as their marriage vows and binding rituals demanded. It was more than that, he knew as his large hand settled on her flat stomach. Buffy herself had, in an incredibly short time, become such a part of him he was scared that he’d never be able to part with her. 

Not something to think of this fine day, though. 

It had been a week since the rituals and vows and they had spent all of that time in their chambers, exploring each other’s bodies with an enthusiasm that rivaled anything Angelus’ was acquainted with. But there was the conversation, too. Slowly they began to learn more about the other, their past, their pleasures, pastimes, hobbies.  Something more than the mutual passion that first bound them together.

As the sun cast its first golden rays through the window, covering both their bodies in soft patterns, Angelus kissed his wife awake. There was much to do this day and not a moment to waste. Ten years had already been wasted finding her. 

“Buffy, love,” he murmured as his hands smoothed up her side, to clasp her still bound wrists, “Wake up.” 

“Angelus?” And her husband smiled at her soft voice, still heavy with lust and sleep. A voice that would only ever shout his name, murmur his name. 

Slowly her bright green eyes opened, focusing on the dark ones before her. Buffy smiled, leaning forward to capture his full lips in a kiss. “You know,” she said when he pulled back; “This would go so much better if you’d unchain me. Actually, I think my arms are numb, Angelus.” She shot him a look when he made no move to release her. 

Silencing her with a kiss, Angelus cupped her breasts in his hands, toying with the hardening nipples. Her arousal was swift and made his grin widen against her soft skin. “But I truly adore you chained to my bed and at my mercy. Spread open for me to see and taste and pleasure.” 

Buffy was beyond words and wondered, briefly, how it was he could arouse her so quickly even after the week they spent sating their passions. “Please,” she said instead, that single word all she could manage. 

With a predatory look, he settled between her legs, slipping into her welcoming body with ease. He slowly pulled out and pushed equally slowly back in. “I’ve a surprise for you today, my love.” 

Buffy opened eyes she hadn’t realized she’d closed and looked into his passion-blackened ones. The second day of their self-imposed confinement he had begun calling her ‘love,’ or, more frequently, ‘my love.’ While Buffy was under no illusions he meant the endearment as anything other than that, certainly not as a declaration of love, the hope that had carried her through to the marriage burned brighter. 

“A tour of the grounds,” Angelus continued even as he continued moving slowly within her body. “You mentioned that you wished to see them, to ride across the hills. We’ll pack enough food for the day,” he added, capturing her lips in a heated kiss, “And see how fast we can lose our guards.” 

Buffy smiled even as her hips met his in ever increasing thrusts. She replied to his surprise by wrapping her legs around his slender hips and pulling him closer to her, baring her neck at the same time. 

With a growl of approval and lust, Angelus sped his movements, thrusting in and out of her clenching walls as his lips moved to her neck, tongue licking the wound as he prepared to reopen his mark. Howling her name, as she convulsed around him, Angelus continued thrusting, watching the pleasure move across Buffy’s face. 

“So beautiful,” he murmured as his face shifted and his fangs gently sank into the soft flesh of her neck. Buffy climaxed again, clamping around him with such force as to trigger Angelus’ climax. 

Long minutes later, his head still resting against her sweat glistening breast, Angelus said, “So, picnic, good idea?” 

Buffy weakly laughed, “Unchain me first.” 

Moving only his hands, Angelus fumbled for the key laying on the bedside table before reaching up to unlock the sapphire encrusted golden manacles that bound his beautiful Buffy to their bed. The second she was freed, Buffy wrapped her arms around Angelus, sighing at both the feel of his skin under the pads of her fingertips and the returning blood to her extremities. 

That was actually going to hurt in a minute, but there was nothing she could do about that. 

“When do we leave?”
The four-legged stocky horses raced through the dawn, galloping over dewy grass covered hills in an attempt to run as far and fast as they could. 

Buffy laughed as her hair whipped behind her, the single braid her maid had woven flying in a long golden tail. Angelus couldn’t help but smile at her, with her, Buffy’s laughter and joy infectious. Their horses each carried two saddlebags containing a blanket, pillows, food and drink. 

Gunn and Oz followed about twenty paces behind, a contingent of the Royal Guards another twenty paces behind them. Chances were that neither Gunn nor Oz could be lost as the newly married couple raced over the land; if they had been they’d be out of a job and most likely dead. But that didn’t stop Buffy from urging her horse faster and Angelus following her lead. 

It was he, after all, who suggested they lose their guards. 

Fifteen minutes later Angelus pulled to a halt in a copse of trees near a small clear stream. Gunn and Oz were minutes behind but would, like the well-trained guards they were, stay far enough away to give the royal couple privacy. 

Dismounting before helping Buffy to do the same, despite her protests that she could dismount herself, Angelus kissed her into silence before unloading their bags. Handing the blanket for Buffy to spread on the ground, he watched for a moment as she unpacked the pillows, too, before moving to the bags packed with their food. 

Blood grapes, blood pears, blood wine, and baked blood meat pies for him, apples and plumbs, white wine, and non-blood meat pies for Buffy. As his wife – goddess above, he was married. What a strange concept – unpacked their food from the containers, Angelus tended to the horses. Settling against a large pile of pillows, he watched as she poured him a goblet of wine. 

“For you, my lord,” she said, handing it to him as she sat beside him. Grabbing a couple of pear slices, Buffy fed him the fruit, their eyes locked. As the last slice disappeared between those delicious lips, Buffy leaned in to kiss him. 

That was when it happened. Neither was expecting it, but with that kiss, the blood of the fruit still on his lips, the beginning of their mental link opened. As their tongues mated, Buffy felt not only her pleasure, but Angelus’ as well. 

Eyes snapping open in shock, she pulled back. “Did you feel that?” 


“I felt the kiss,” Buffy said then clarified, with a grimace of a smile, at his bemused look. “Okay, obviously I did, what I meant was that when we kissed I felt your emotions as well as my own.” 

A contemplative look crossed her vampire’s face and for a moment, Buffy thought she had imagined the entire thing. Maybe she wanted to share everything with him so much that she wished it? 

“I felt only my own,” Angelus admitted and Buffy could have sworn there was a faint hint of regret in his voice. “What did you feel, exactly?” 

Closing her eyes, Buffy tried to put into words what she had felt. “There was the taste of the blood fruit, but not what I normally taste when I have one; it was as if it were the only fruit that was worth eating, the juices pooling in your mouth, the slide of them down your throat, spreading through you. You can feel it, can’t you? You can feel the blood juices flow through your veins, feeding you, giving you strength. 

“You brought my fingers into your mouth, then, as if you needed to taste me as you did the fruit. Your tongue ran along my fingers, slowly licking them clean. I know that my fingers felt your tongue on them, but as you licked them clean, you tasted the blood juices and…” 

Buffy’s eyes shot open. “And me. Is that what I taste like?” 

At a loss for words, but incredibly turned on by hers, Angelus’ blackened eyes met her curious green ones. “A tangy sweet taste that is both innocence and passion?” At her look of shock, he nodded. 

“Why did you feel that, but I didn’t feel anything you, er, felt?” Angelus mentally scowled, he was usually much more articulate than this. 

“I don’t know, but” she lowered her head, looking shyly at him through her lashes. “Did you,” she cleared her throat, “Did you want to? Did you want to try again?” 

Did he? When he agreed to the ceremonies, Angelus knew what he was getting himself into, knew that this mental bonding was a byproduct. But in the grand scheme of forever that immortals have, one week into it wasn’t what he was expecting. Sure, he enjoyed Buffy’s body and her company…actually, he thought, he enjoyed her company almost as much as her body. 

She made him laugh, made see things differently, experience joy in simple pleasures. She had a quick and agile mind and was well versed in culture, ancient texts, philosophy and the arts; and she wasn’t afraid to argue with him on any topic. That might have, of course, had something to so with the fact that she was raised as he, never to cower before others, but that wasn’t the point. 

He enjoyed her, even cared for her. And was jealous, Angelus admitted, that she felt things about him he desperately wished to feel of her. “Yes,” he said looking again into her beautiful eyes, “Yes, I’d like to try again.” 

He fed her this time, small slices of the plums that grew wild along the boarders of his kingdom and her elfin one. She smiled as his lips captured hers, tongue tasting the sweet juice that still coated the inside of her mouth. He tasted of the blood pear, passion, and something uniquely Angelus; strong and masculine. Hers. 

Buffy felt his lips curve along hers, his long fingers splaying across her jaw. She could still feel what he felt when they kissed, the texture of her tongue as it slid across his, the scent of her constant arousal as he breathed her in. It was he who pulled back, slowly as if loath to let her go. 

Her eyes fluttered open but she said nothing, waiting for him to say whether he felt anything. Several moments passed before he nodded. “You think I taste of passion and strength,” he quieted again, trying to find the words. “I felt my need for you, but yours as well; when I kiss you, you feel as if I could devour you with my mouth only.” 

Angelus moved then, too fast for Buffy to fully see but the newly mated elf didn’t protest as she found herself flat on her back, cradled underneath her husband’s large solid body. His hands clasped hers and brought them over her head as his mouth found hers again. 

“Devour you, eh, my beautiful Buffy?” He placed nipping kisses along her cheek and jaw, down her slender neck. “Is that what you feel when I touch you?” At her nod, Angelus asked, “What else do you feel, my love? Tell me so I may feel it as well.”
Oz and Gunn sat on a large boulder near the outskirts of the small copse playing cards, not too close – for obvious reasons – but not too far, either. Just in case. 

“Ha!” Gunn said a triumphant grin on his face. “I win again. So there, elf.” 

Oz shrugged and picked up the cards to shuffle for another round as the vampire gathered his winnings. As the First to the Queen dealt the nine cards needed to play, they heard a roar that sounded very vampiric and very much like a satisfied male. Several long-feathered birds took flight at the sound and their horses neighed and stomped the ground. 

Oz didn’t even blink. “Why don’t we make this a little interesting, eh, vampire?” 

Gunn nodded, knowing full well what that sound was; and for anyone who hadn’t, like the contingency of guards that had bolted upright at the noise, commendably ready to do battle with their unseen foe, Angelus’ shout of Buffy’s name should have cinched it. 

“What have you got for me, then?”

The Marriage to End All: Next part

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