Inspired by the Sarah McLaughlin song, Fear - The remix from her album, B-Sides and Other Rarities.
Summary: Vampires are renowned for their passions and desires. Buffy and Angel are no different.
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em. I don't get no greenbacks for makin' 'em do "stuff"... you know... you do know, don't you? Thank Joss for the privilege of writin' stories 'bout 'em. Fear belongs to Sarah McLaughlin and her Megalorecordco.
Friday night. The air in the Bronze was heavy with a hundred perfumes and colognes, and the faint smell of clean sweat, all edged with the sticky-sweet odor of lust.
Willow and Xander were talking about some movie or another they'd seen, one so scary it had given them nightmares... Angel didn't see why they needed Blair the Witch or whatever, when they had their very own Hellmouth to scare the crap out of them....
He settled his head on his hand and leaned heavily on the table. Bored, he wondered absently where Buffy was as he watched the kids jiggle and jerk on the dance floor, their movements frantic and hurried, the way beings with such short life spans probably should be...
He sensed her entry before he saw her. The way the air felt changed...became sharper, heavier, somehow, and began to crackle with electricity. He looked up.
She flowed, rather than walked, across the floor, her movement slow and languid, purposeful. Her smooth motions like a vision, like someone comfortable in their body...like someone who knew how to use it.
He stared, watching her approach, feeling that familiar blood-boiling sensation he always got when he saw her...she wore a barely-there black velvet number that added a soft, fog-like quality to her deliciously graceful body...
He blinked, overtaken by a sudden, unexpected desire...and from the sultry look on Buffy's face, she was feeling it too. She often said slaying made her...fired up...Angel wondered happily if she'd had some trouble on the way to the club...
She stopped under one of the red-tinted spotlights in the middle of the dance floor and began to sway, riding the pounding rhythm of the song...
Angel realized he was gaping, and closed his mouth.
He watched her move with grace...a slight sway, a little twist of her round hips, a tiny twitch of her slender shoulders...he watched her body slide along the edges of the beat, embracing it, writhing with it...She raised her arms above her head, then slowly, languidly ran her hands down the sides of her body's curves, her mouth open slightly and eyes closed...
Angel rose and began to move away from the table, leaving Xander and Willow staring questioningly behind him, suddenly forgotten. He kept his eyes on Buffy, his body responding instinctively, even at that distance, to her liquid grind...
He knew intimately what those movements meant...what they felt like against him. He knew the way her naked skin felt when she made them, how the muscles in her legs, her hips, her stomach, felt, flexing under his weight...
He stood in front of her now, and she continued to glide, putting her arm around his waist and sliding his body forward against hers, looking up at him form under her brow, a slight smile on her face...a mysterious smile...a promising smile...
Time stopped as they moved together, his body's rhythm matching her own. He lay a hand lightly on that spot where her waist sloped into her rear...the velvet of her dress soft against his skin, accentuating the slow swing of her hips...driving him crazy...er...
She put her arms around his shoulders and squarely met his gaze. There was no mistaking that look...it was one he knew well.
They flowed together, and some part of Angel marveled at how familiar their bodies were with one another...how used to this slow motion that strained every muscle in his body...
He traced his fingers over her shoulder and down her arm, caressing her back with the other hand...he could almost hear her sharp intake of breath, even above the din of the music...
There was a pause in the song...Buffy's full, red-painted lips were inches form his, her involuntary (and unnecessary) habit of breath sweet and cool against his skin.
He kissed her, slow and long, exploring the inside of her sweet mouth with his tongue, feeling her incredible body melt into his for what seemed like an eternity...
How badly he wanted her. How incredibly lucky he was to have her...to be able to have her. She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen; the most incredible thing he'd ever felt, in all his 250 years...
Angel felt hot. Knowing it was only in his mind didn't cool his rising passion even the slightest bit.
"Take me home..." Buffy whispered huskily into his ear.
They separated only enough to walk, keeping their eyes squarely on one another as they went back to the table to get his jacket.
Xander was saying something, probably something smart, but Angel could hear nothing but the blood, the lust, pounding in his veins, and Buffy's voice, whispering,
"Take me home..."
He grabbed his jacket, gave some hurried, offhand excuse, and made for the door, Buffy in tow...
The warm Sunnydale night greeted them. Angel put his arm around her as they walked, pulling her closer to kiss her again...
They made it to the park, halfway through the woods, before his lust got the better of him, and he yanked Buffy into a crushing embrace. She moaned softly against him as he kissed her face, her ears, her neck...She tangled her hands in his hair as he lowered her to the ground and removed her dress in a single motion.
Her skin was soft and cool, her firm body yielding softly to his probing touch, goosebumps rising against his lips...
The grass was wet under his bare knees and hands. Somewhere along the line, without his conscious realization, he'd taken his clothes off, too...
He leaned his weight on his hands, breathing soft words of passion, declaring how good she felt, how good she tasted, into her ear...
He was on top of her, inside her, in one slow, easy motion. She gasped loudly, thrusting her hips in encouragement, wrapping her preternaturally strong legs around him, gripping him, crushing him, urging him on.
He was lost in the feeling of this particular dance they shared. Every cell of his being ached and cried out to be closer to her...closer even than this, when they were almost one...
The night birds and the wind in the trees sang to them as they moved together, riding the waves of pleasure that battered them, the driving rhythm of the song they'd danced to at the Bronze becoming their own rhythm...
Angel stroked every inch of Buffy's body within his reach, clutching her tiny body closer, burying his face in her neck, her hair...
They seemed to be rocking in slow motion...he felt her sharp teeth break the skin on his shoulder, and he cried out, all control lost. He sank his own fangs into the tough vein in her neck, feeling her hot blood pulse into his mouth...down his throat...like liquid ecstasy...
They came together, drinking one another, drunk on one another, the pulsing of their bodies as singular as that of the life's blood that flowed between them...that thick, red bond that held them together...
Angel collapsed on top of her, releasing her throat and kissing her face, stroking her hair...It was bliss, being with her like this, feeling her spectacular body, now also spent, pressed against him. He silently thanked the heavens for this miraculous blessing...to be able to have her love, body and soul, without fear, without danger...
He raised himself up and rolled off her, feeling the dew on the grass on his side, taking a moment to look into his lover's smiling face...he reached out and stroked her cheek tenderly, a happy smile growing on his own bruised lips....
Buffy's grin spread an inch...
"Hi, honey," She said.
Their happy laughter echoed through the night.