The St. Patrick's Day Of A Lifetime

DISCLAIMER: I own it all!!! Hahaha!! Nah, I wish I did though. And sometimes the hallucinogens make me believe that I'm the Goddess and the trees talk...Ooops, did I say that out loud? Anyways, Joss Whedon owns Buffy and Angelus and Willie. St. Patrick owns St. Patrick's Day. And I own the world!! Sorry, it's them mushrooms talking again.
RATING: Gee, what else do you find on a page for Buffy and Angelus Erotica? NC-17
CONTENT: Oh, only hot sex and denial.
AUTHOR: Memememe!! If you don't know who me is, it's Carrie.

Maybe it had been cruel irony, or maybe just sheer coincedence, that Angelus O'Roarke had been changed into a vampire on St. Patrick's Day. Either way, he got to drink even more on his Rebirthday. And that was all he cared about at the moment.

Pouring himself another drink, Agnelus climbed on top of the stool he was sitting on, trying hard to keep the room from spinning. "I would like to make a toasht to killing the Shlayer." He said, tripping over and slurring his words as held his mug of whiskey up. The vampires in the room roared while Willie, the barkeep, slid away, seeing he couldn't do anything to stop the vampires from taking over his pub for the night.

During the course of the night, he had made a few toasts, and after each one loud choruses of drunken cheers had sounded. Angelus could've talked about dogshit and they wouldn't have cared. It was free whiskey.

As the room settled down, Angelus stared into his pint of whiskey and, as always, his mind drifted to her. Her, who consumed his dreams and all his spare time. Not to mention that she was the focus of his drunken rages, temper tantrums as Spike liked to call them, which seemed to be happening more and more often.

The Slayer. The Chosen One. His mortal enemy. She was all he thought about anymore. You're in love with her old boy. Just admit it. In love? Him? Ha! Never. He was Angelus, the cold-hearted. Not Angelus, the loveable. He showed everyone else as much. But I know you're in love. Now all I have to do is convince you.

Her. Buffy. What a beautiful name for a goddess like her. Her, with her suntouched hair and perfectly tanned skin. Tiny, petite body, but strong nonetheless. He needed to own her, to make her fully his possession. Together they would make the perfect symbol of lo--no not love. Of hate.

I need a kill. I need to kill something slowly to forget all of this love shit.

**********

As it had turned out, Angelus had not stumbled out of the pub for another hour. Being that as it may, he was barely able to walk.

Buffy was walking boredly in the alleyway behind Wille's pub when she saw Angelus drunkenly almost fall out of the back door. Leave Buffy. Don't stay around or investigate. Do the smart thing for once in your life. And she almost did, but he started singing 'Old Danny Boy', and she knew this was something she could gloat over later.

"Old Danny Boooooyyyyy......Shlaya...just the bitsh I been lookin' for." Angelus walked closer to her and straightened up until he was almost a foot taller than her.

"God, Angelus, what happened to you? Get run over by a truck?" Buffy said in mock worry.

"You're so funny. Ha Ha."

"Oh aren't I though?" She said getting in a fighting stance. He waved it off and, to her surprise, threw his arm around her shoulders, leaned on her, and started walking. Clearly this was quite puzzling to Buffy. Then, Angelus started telling some weird story about him, Spike, Darla, and Drusilla.

"So, we were at the orphanage in Budapesht and I says to Spike 'You and Dru take the hospital. Me and Darll'do the orphanage..' But Spike was like 'No, no. I bloody well want the orphanage.'" He said it in his best British accent, which sounded more Irish than it did British. "And then I was like, 'You want to take me on?' and Spike was like, 'I could kick your ass!' and then I was like, 'I don't think so boy!' And meanwhile Darla and Dru were like 'Go Angel, Go Spike.' but I let Spike have orphanage since I uh......didn't want to set a bad example for the younger vampires."

Buffy smiled and nodded. "That's very....interesting." She patronized.

"You shoulda been there. It was one hell of a ride."

"Yeah, I guess it was. But unfortunately, I breath and live in the 20th century. Such a pity." She said, throwing his arm off her as they reached the cemetary. "You're drunk, and you smell. And chances are, you've forgotten we're mortal enemies, you think I'm in one of your little vampire ranks and you're just bragging to show how powerful you are." Angelus frowned at her revelation. He had forgotten, for those few minutes, the reality of the situation.

"But didn't we fit great together? I don't wanna pick out curtains or anything, but how 'bout one quick fuck for the road?" He asked boldly.

"Wow, you lost about 40 I.Q. points when you lost your soul, didn't you?"

Angelus swayed a bit. "And you lost your pretty little self-righteous, nancey boy, wimpy boyfriend, didn't you?"

Upon hearing that, Buffy delivered a swift uppercut to his chin. A loud crack sounded. "If I ever hear you talk about him like that again, I will stake you without a second thought." She said in a deadly voice.

"Ha! That's a laugh. If you couldn't shtake me before, what makes you think you could now? And why don't we fuck? At least I shtayed for the ride, he up and left-"

Buffy cut him off. "Don't think for even a second, that you are better than he was--"

"I'm 10 times the vampire he was--"

"I hate you!!"

"I hate you!"

And in a tenth of a second, Angelus, the Vampire and Buffy, the Vampire Slayer were in each other's arms and a passionate liplock. Just as quick, they pushed each other away and started shedding clothes.

Both naked and incredibly hungry, they sank to the ground, each peppering each other's bodies and faces with kisses. Buffy ran her tongue along his taut stomach down to his cock and enveloped it with her mouth. "Buffy..." Angelus moaned, burying his hands in her hair and resisting the urge to pull all of it out. Her tongue shot out and started swirling around it. "Gonna gome in your mouth...." He grunted. "Mn't cahed..." Which, translated, would of been the equivalent of "Don't care"

Angelus spewed his dead semen down her throat, all of she swallowed, as he came. "Your turn baby." Buffy sat up, anticipating his next move.

Bending down, Angelus started to gently nibble at her hot, wet core. "Does Buffy wanna come?" Buffy managed to nod through lust-ridden haze. "Then Buffy'd better beg."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh come on. Are you really that power--Ahhh!!" She moaned as he replaced his mouth with two fingers and started rubbing until her arousal was at a nearly unattainable high state. "Angelus, make me come?"

Giving her a smug look he said, "All you had to do was ask, love."

Angelus shoved a third finger and started rubbing harder until Buffy shuddered in complete ecstasy and came.

Awkwardly, they both stood up and began putting on their clothes. The same thought passed through their heads at the exact same time: I just had hot sex on the cemetary floor with my mortal enemy! And they knew what this meant. This meant that all the animosity they'd built up toward each other was, for lack of better words, down the crapper. They were both up shit creek without a paddle.

Both fully dressed, Buffy and Angelus stared at each other, Angelus a little more sober and Buffy just plain embarassed but not about to show it, turned around and walked away.

End?

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