How could something this sweet be brought about by something so evil? Buffy wondered this as she rocked herself back and forth slowly on Angelus' cock. They were both in a chair fit for a monarch, a tattered and torn throne. The mansion echoed around them, the sounds of the vermin in the walls stilled by the gasps and moans the mating couple sent out in staccato reverberations.
Her naked body was covered with a fine sheen of perspiration, most of it generated by her own efforts to take this one slow and hold back her climax. She'd had her first orgasm hours ago and there had been several more between then and now. Angelus had enjoyed the fact that he could get her there so fast, despite her hatred of him. This was an unspoken test now. First one to reach their peak would call the other victor.
Needless to say, Angelus was the one more likely to win. He'd had a few peaks among the valleys himself and was growing tired, but not bored by any stretch of the imagination. His lover was not the most accomplished seductress he'd ever taken, but she was certainly making up for her lack of experience with her stamina and enthusiasm. Her movements never faltered, although she seemed to know when it was time to change the rhythm, or the pace, or the position. She knew when to kiss him fiercely, to invade his cool mouth with her plundering tongue, and when to graze his lips with her own swollen ones. These tormenting soft kisses drive him to the brink, tantalizing him with the image of the reluctant virgin unsure of what to do next.
She graced him with one of those whisper soft kisses now, barely brushing warm lips against his own, both mouths salty from her sweat. He shuddered as her tongue slid across the path her lips had taken, feather light. She smiled at him then, her face a vision of wanton abandon with its flushed cheeks and the black liner smeared around her eyes making them look dark and dangerous. He grabbed her hair at the base of her skull and pulled it back roughly. Her whole body was revealed to him then: white column of throat, full breasts jiggling slightly with each rapid breath, salmon pink nipples taut. His gaze slid to her firm belly and then down to the nest of curls where they were joined, his own black swirls mixing with her brown ones so closely no one could tell where each ended and the other began. Her creamy thighs were spread wide across his own paler ones and he knew that her toes barely touched the floor somewhere out of his line of sight. His one hand tightened in her hair as the other began a lazy trail from one knee upwards to the tops of her thighs. They slid easily over her soft skin and even easier once they reached the mixture of fluids that covered them both. He grinned as she instinctively tried to close her legs against the assault of his fingers, but he shook her head with the hand that held it just enough for her to know she had no choice in the matter. Her hands flailed momentarily, unsure of where to land. She settled for resting them on his forearms, here and there. He felt a jolt go through him - it looked like she was directing the hand that had began to rub her clit in a slow and torturous motion. He felt every tremor that went through her; they were transmitted directly to him through the muscles she was clenching around his shaft.
He got the rhythm she liked going soon enough and she matched him movement for movement. He was sliding his middle finger over her clit in hard, long strokes. He felt the root of it slipping first to this side of his finger then the other, as if it was trying to get away from him. When he slowed down and lightened his touch it just quivered there, like a creature both wanting and fearing the caress. He kept alternating- hard and fast, slow and gentle - until she was shaking all over and whimpering almost continuously.
"Please please please please..." was her chant. She couldn't stop it, didn't even realize she was making the sounds to form the words. All she knew right now was the incredible feeling of him filling her inside and stretching her almost painfully, the rough cold rubbing of his finger right where she wanted it, the blood pounding in her ears from her head being pulled back for so long. She didn't care about winning now, she...just...wanted...to come. Her nails dug into the white flesh of his arms as she hung on the edge of orgasm. She couldn't get over the top, she was balanced there by his expert handling of her body. sweet she thought randomly. sweet torture I know what that means now
His own body was poised to reach climax, but he held back easily. It was too fine a moment not to savor. There was more pleasure in watching her writhe than there would be in physical release right now. He had always relished control, it was a high for him. And he had the ultimate control over her now. He held her future in his hands and on his cock. He could string her out until she was in more pain than pleasure, or he could let her have her orgasm and then make her do it again. Her own Slayer powers made her more susceptible to the very torture he was inflicting on her. Her muscle control and nerve reactions far exceeded a normal woman's abilities. Had he stooped to fucking a mortal, she'd have been on the far side of exhaustion by now. Or dead, needless to say.
Still holding her by the hair, he brought her back up from the position he had held her in, pressing her against his body from hip to chest, feeling her breasts compress against the muscled wall of his chest. Her eyes were bright and staring as he captured her gaze and gave her a smile of pure pleasure. Then he pulled her face closer and traced her lips with his tongue. His fingers no longer rubbed against her, but her feet had purchase on the floor again. She resumed her former rocking motion with her hips, her head remaining still as he licked her over and over again, refusing her the kiss she wanted. Her hands rested on his hips, thumbs stroking his wiry pubic hair. In frustration, she grasped a bit and tugged it sharply. He grinned and pulled his head back to look at her. She was actually pouting, but her brow was wrinkled in concentration and he could see she was just about to go past the point of no return.
Almost tenderly he pulled her head to the side, baring her neck. She didn't see his demonic mask slip into place but she could feel the response in his body. His muscles quivered all over, his cock swelled and when his fangs met her skin, she raced to the abyss and over the edge into it. His teeth punctured her neck more tenderly than he had penetrated her elsewhere and in the midst of her ecstasy she realized she wanted it, wanted this other invasion, needed it. Her hands flew to his head and pushed him in deeper than he would have gone on his own. Instead of the gentle trickle of blood he had planned to sample, he got a flood of crimson. He came then himself, filling her between her legs as he drained her from this other place. His growls were louder than her own cries of release, both slowly decreasing in volume and frequency as they relaxed and their muscles stopped contracting quite so violently. He found the control to stop drinking long before he ever would have dreamed it possible. He released her hair, pulling a few glittering strands with him. As he licked across the wounds on her neck, he watched them begin to close already.
She sighed in his arms, physically spent in every fiber of her being. Her cheek laid on his shoulder and for a few minutes she could tell herself that she was with Angel. She could lie away the reality of the demon who had made her scream in pleasure, the thing that lived in the skin of her lover. She could pretend she had the dream to hold instead of being in the grip of the nightmare. Then, he spoke.
"I win again."
Tears trailed down his back, hot as fire against the porcelain of his skin. And he smiled.
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