He found her two blocks from the police station. Head down, shoulders hunched forward, Angel could practically smell the anger drifting smoke-like from her skin. He crossed the street and caught up to her, clasping his hand around her slender wrist.
“What the…” she said, whirling around, ready to fight.
Angel scanned the street. A man in a suit strolled past talking on his cell phone. Two teenage girls giggled across the street, outside of a Starbucks. Half a block down, Angel found what he was looking for and he stepped forward, pulling Buffy behind.
“Let me go,” Buffy hissed, trying to pull her abused wrist from Angel’s grasp.
“Angel,” she said, her voice a warning.
Swallowed by the dark alley, Angel released Buffy. She rubbed at her wrist and tried to go past Angel, back out onto the street. He blocked her way.
“What?” she said.
For a second, Angel contemplated stepping aside. He hadn’t thought this through; his anger at Buffy, at the Watcher’s Council, at Faith and her false sense of honour, all of it conspired against him. Worst of all: Buffy’s admission that she had someone new in her life.
“I want to test a theory I have,” he said, moving forward, crowding into her space.
Buffy took a step back, folding her arms across her chest. “Oh, really.”
Angel smiled briefly. “Really.”
“And what if I’m not interested in your theory, Angel?” Buffy asked.
He shrugged. “I didn’t say that participation was optional.” He wrapped his hands around her biceps and moved her backwards until she was pressed against the alley’s wall.
“Five minutes ago you were telling me to get out of your town,” Buffy said.
Angel’s eyes narrowed. He leaned down, close to Buffy’s ear, and whispered: “Be quiet.” Buffy stiffened against the command.
Angel looked around the alley and located a packing crate which he retrieved and pulled over in front of Buffy. He sat down, long legs spread wide, and leaned over, resting his forearms on his knees.
Buffy watched him warily, his silence clearly unsettling her.
“So,” Angel said at last, “what’s this new guy’s name?”
“None of your business.”
Angel shook his head. “You’re wrong about that, Buffy.”
“Oh,” she said. “How do you figure?”
Angel tapped the side of his neck. “Your blood is in me; no matter what else happens, you and I are….”
Buffy laughed derisively.
“Shall I demonstrate the link?”
Buffy pressed her lips together.
“You can take another man into your bed…”
“But it doesn’t matter. I can make you come without even touching you.”
Buffy’s eyes widened as his words cut across her own protest.
“I know you, Buffy,” Angel said, dropping his voice. “I know what’s in your heart and in your head. I know what makes you wet and what makes you quiver.”
“You don’t know me anymore, Angel.”
He paused and he could see that she was deliberating, weighing the consequences of his words, wondering if he really could make good on his promise.
“Do you remember the first time I kissed you, Buffy?”
“I don’t need to breathe, but that kiss was like gulping clean, fresh air. So pure and perfect. And even as I felt the demon in me shift, I couldn’t tear myself away. I wanted more…I always wanted more.”
“Angel,” she cautioned.
“I want what the demon wants: to break your skin, to drink your blood, to make you scream.”
Angel lifted his eyes and met hers across the two feet of dank alley that separated them.
“And if all were right in my world, I’d tear that shirt you’re wearing right down the middle and those perfect little breasts of yours would be in my hands, nipples between my fingers, exquisite. You’d be hot flesh in my cool hands and I’d be touching you everywhere but where you most wanted to feel me.”
He watched Buffy curl her hands into fists. He leaned back, propping himself up by locking his elbows on the crate on which he was sitting.
“I’d delight in watching your cheeks flush, watching you try to catch your breath, watching you try to control that feeling which I know is humming through you: I can smell it.” He paused. “I can smell it now.”
“This is ridiculous,” Buffy said, pushing away from the wall.
Angel was in front of her in an instant, blocking her way by placing a hand on either side of her on the brick wall.
“Be quiet,” he whispered. “Be quiet and be still.”
Buffy leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes.
Angel leaned close and said into her ear: “I’m a tits man, really. Back in the day there wasn’t anything I liked better than to abuse little girl tits, suck them, lick them, bite them, slap them. Does your new guy do any of that, Buffy?” Angel heard her swallow and he moved his head so he could look at her face.
“Open your eyes,” he said. When she had re-established visual contact he said:
“I wouldn’t hurt you, but there is pleasure to be found in pain. Indeed there is.”
“Angel,” she said, “please, stop.”
“But I haven’t got to the best part yet,” he said. “That’s the part where I lift up that little skirt and slip my fingers into your panties and find that you’re already soaking for me. Is that what I’m going to find, Buffy?”
“So wet, and so hot and so needy, aren’t you, baby?”
Her hips thrust forward and Angel leaned back so that she would be unable to make contact with him.
“I find your clit and it’s begging for it, and I’m happy to oblige. My fingers are slick and it’s nothing to slide up and over, up and over. Can you feel that, Buffy?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Does it feel good?”
“That’s when I’ll put my fingers inside you, one, no, two, no three. You’re so tight but I find that spot deep inside you and I rub, and my thumb rubs your clit and my mouth is on your breast and I know what’s going to happen and so do you…”
Angel waits. “What’s going to happen?”
“I’m going to come,” Buffy moans.
“I know it, too, and I can’t help it. I bite into your nipple and suck and I can taste you, your blood delicious because of your orgasm. Your cunt is a greedy mouth, Buffy and I am so hard that I can barely wait to be inside you. So I pull down my zipper and I pull you up and I’m inside you before you’ve even realized that I’ve done it. And I’m inside you deep and I don’t move because I want you to know that it’s me there, not him.”
“I know,” she whispers.
“I can move then. I lick at the wound I’ve left on your breast, taste the last bit of blood and it’s so good and you’re so perfect and…”
He looked down at her and wasn’t surprised to see her hand wedged between her legs. Her eyes were unfocused, her lower lip caught between her teeth. He stepped back, his cock throbbing. Seconds later, she was vibrating against her fingers.
“I’m glad things are working out for you, Buffy,” he said.
She focused her eyes.
“Oh my God,” she said, removing her fingers from her damp panties.
He looked down and then back up and his face was expressionless; his eyes blank and hard.
“Angel?” she said.
His expression softened. “I know,” he said and then, without looking back he went down the alley and disappeared into the street.
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