All Wet

By Lex

 

The sun had dawned.

She should get up.

Buffy Summers tried to give herself a pep talk, one that would convince her that getting out of bed would be the best thing to do right then. And if she had been in her own bed, in her own room, it would have worked with no effort. But she wasn’t in her own bed. Or her own room, for that matter. Or even in her own city.

No, she was in LA. In Angel’s basement loft. In Angel’s bed. Without Angel.

She had shown up the night before, desperate to see him. It was one of the things she had promised herself she would never do, just show up on his doorstep, but in her aching need to see him, she broke her own word.

Cordelia had clued her in on his whereabouts more than a month before, so she borrowed Giles’ death trap without a word of explanation as to where she was going, and she fled Sunnydale. Once she reached LA, and his apartment, she sat in the car for over an hour, debating whether or not to ring the bell. Eventually, she worked up the nerve.

Her mind flashed back to the expression on his face.

*****

"Can I hel—Buffy?" Angel opened the door, only to find the last person on Earth he expected to see standing in front of him.

Buffy smiled slightly. "Angel. Hi."

He clutched the door frame so hard the wood creaked. "Hi."

She noticed the goatee right away. "New..." she rubbed her chin, indicating the dark hair shadowing his face.

He looked slightly embarrassed. "Yeah, well, Cordelia’s been after me to break out of the ‘boring brood mode’ as she calls it. This is the first step, or so she has informed me."

Buffy’s heart twinged. "So. You’re the best of buds with Cordy now?"

"She’s been a great help to me."

She looked at her feet. "So."

"Uh, wanna—wanna come in?"

She nodded a little uncertainly. "Um, yeah. Yeah, that would be good."

*****

And she had gone in, and they had conversed for a little bit, mostly about safe, non-confrontational topics like how everyone was doing. Buffy had to sit on her hands to stop from touching him, caressing him. He looked so good, and she had missed him so much.

But she had control.

Until he leaned over and kissed her. It was a tiny, quick kiss, lasting only a few heartbeats, but it was enough to start the longing up again. She arched against him, and tried to wrap her arms around his neck, but he suddenly jerked away and fled to the other side of the room.

"I, uh, I have to leave."

"Leave?" she echoed dumbly.

"Yeah, leave. I have someone to meet."

"A..a date?" Her voice trembled on the word.

He shook his head. "Not a date. A meeting with an informant. Very important. Must go."

Having said that, he shoved her in the direction of the bed with an admonishment to get some sleep, and he took off.

She had waited up until about 3 AM, until she realized that he wasn’t coming back. He would find shelter somewhere else. With that depressing thought plaguing her brain, Buffy fell into a troubled sleep.

A scant few minutes after dawn, her body leapt into awareness. It was instinctive, the knowledge of the sun rising and falling.

She should get up. It was a bad idea, coming to LA.

She should leave.

With that thought foremost on her mind, she crawled out of bed and headed towards the bathroom to grab a quick shower before she made her escape. The apartment was still and quiet. He really hadn’t returned. Her spirits sank further. She wanted to see him so badly, and she fought off the urge to wait all day for his return.

Only the knowledge that he no longer wanted her kept her feet on the path to the bathroom.

She had to get out of there before she did something she would regret.

Buffy opened the door, stepped into the bathroom, and froze in place.

"Holy sweet Jesus," she whispered, her hand flying up to cover her mouth.

Angel froze too. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t even make a sound. He knew that he should probably remove the hand gripping his cock, but he was unable to do it. She was standing there, the object of his most fevered fantasies, her face flushed with embarrassment...and something else. Something that resembled consuming lust.

He knew the feeling.

Buffy’s eyes flew over him. He was sitting up in the bathtub, the water coming up to just under his nipples. His hair was damp, as though he had just run wet hands through it. And his new facial hair...it suited him. He would look good in anything, she decided. Or nothing.

Definitely nothing.

The water slid over his slick skin as her gaze did the same. His necklace was listing to the side, drawing her attention to a nipple that she had the nearly unbearable urge to bite. She could see the definition in his abs even through the cover of water, and then her eyes trailed down until she saw—

Right then, her mind shut down and she slammed her eyes closed.

At the sensation of her eyes raking over his wet, naked form, he hardened even more, his cock rising out of the water, stretching towards her as if it were begging for the silken pressure of her mouth, the wet velvet of her tongue.

As though she could hear his overheated thoughts, her tongue came out to moisten her lips. A sound managed to escape his throat after all. It was a low, tortured whimper. Her eyes snapped open.

Buffy clenched her hands into fists, the urge to strip her clothes from her body nearly overwhelming her. "I, uh, I," she stuttered, "I thought you didn’t come home last night. I didn’t realize you were up yet."

The second the words left her mouth, she wished she could recall them. He was most certainly up. In fact, if her memory served, he didn’t get much more up than he was right at that moment.

His eyes closed and his head slammed back against the tile. "Buffy," he rasped out, his fingers tightening involuntarily around himself. The pleasure overtook him for a moment, and he couldn’t stop himself from thrusting into his hand.

It was her turn to whimper.

Surely it wasn’t fair, she thought dazedly, that a man could look that mind-numbingly fuckable.

And then he turned her world upside down once more.

"I was dreaming about you," he said simply, as he gave up all pretense and began to work his swollen flesh. "And here you are."

"Dreaming...about me?" she whispered.

"Always about you. Only about you." His eyes were blazing hot, and that heat swept down her body in a burning rush. Suddenly, there wasn’t enough air in the room, and she had on way too many clothes, and she was too far away from him for comfort.

Like a sleepwalker, she crossed the tiles that separated them, and knelt by the side of the tub. "We can’t do this, Angel. Tell me to stop." The words came out, but she knew in that moment that if she couldn’t feel his mouth touching her skin, she would die. She would combust and turn into ash from the sheer force of her longing.

He shook his head. "Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop."

She moaned softly at his words, and that small noise broke the spell. His left hand emerged from the water and gripped the back of her neck, pulling her close even as he leaned toward her. Their lips collided, and Buffy nearly wept from the sweet pressure of his mouth against hers. Her hands left their perch on the side of the tub and slid into the damp silk of his hair, fingers twining in the strands, gripping his head.

His tongue swept into her open mouth, and his taste filled her. She leaned further into him, her hands clutching more desperately, as their mouths mated. His lips on hers...God, she had missed him more than she thought possible. She could never be close enough to him.

With that in mind, she arched towards him...and lost her precarious perch on the side of the tub, tumbling in on top of him. The kiss broke and she gasped a little as the water soaked through her tank top and boxer shorts, but the dismay was fleeting as she realized she was now in full contact with Angel’s body.

"Got you all wet," he said with a sly smile.

She merely nodded as she kissed the side of his mouth, then his chin, feeling the newness of the hair against her smooth skin. It rasped her flesh, and she realized she liked it. Working her way down, she nipped his jaw, then his neck, paying special attention to the area above his jugular. She drew that piece of flesh into her mouth, sucked on it, licked the moisture from his bath from it.

Angel moaned loudly, thrusting up into her belly. She was driving him out of his mind. His hands came up to cup her head, pressing her into his neck. "Bite," he breathed, "Bite me..."

With a small grin, she did as he asked, her blunt teeth digging into his sensitive flesh. He moaned low in his throat, his face changing, the ridges springing up in response to the pressure. But she didn’t want this to be over before it began, so she left her mark on him and moved down.

She licked a path down his neck to his chest, sipping up the drops of moisture that clung to his skin. Leaning her forehead against him, she placed her lips over his heart and gave that bit of skin a long, lingering kiss. "I can’t stop loving you," she whispered. "I can’t. No matter what I do, I just can’t."

His voice was strained when he spoke. "And you think I can?"

Buffy shook her head, then suddenly attacked his left nipple, gnawing at the pebbled flesh. His hands tightened on her head as she switched nipples. She suckled him for a moment, delighting in the feel of him against her tongue. Sliding her mouth down, she licked his chest, lavished attention on the pale, pale skin that she craved.

The sight of her tongue cleaning him with long, slow licks nearly did him in. He tugged on her head.

"What?" she growled, annoyed at the interruption.

"I love you."

The whispered declaration soothed her bruised heart.

Slowly, so exquisitely slowly, she lowered her mouth to the tip of his shaft. It was raised out of the water, and at the sight of her head descending, Angel arched his hips towards her, suddenly desperate for the feeling of her heat enveloping him.

Her tongue reached for him, sliding over the tip of his manhood. The bath had warmed his normally cool flesh, and she was intrigued at the difference from his normal temperature. She circled the head, lapping gently at the flesh, teasing him.

Angel fought the urge to push her head down, knowing that she would hate that. But he wanted...he needed her to suck him hard, drawing roughly on his flesh. She knew exactly what he wanted, but she continued to taunt him, sucking lightly then breaking away to plant kisses up and down his shaft. The water was getting in her way, so she hit the stopper with her foot, and the liquid drained away, leaving him bare before her.

Her mouth engulfed him, and she sucked hard, no longer keeping her touch tender. Angel let out a strangled moan as his hands clenched into fists in her hair. "Buffy...oh, God, Buffy... don’tstopdon’tstopdon’tstop."

He was helpless beneath her, and the power thrilled her. Nothing, not even a fierce kill, made her this high, the knowledge that she could take such a calm, collected man and turn him into this babbling creature, begging for her touch. It aroused her unbearably, the wetness flowing between her thighs having nothing whatsoever to do with the bath water. Buffy took him without reservation, drawing deeply on him, her head bobbing up and down as she moved on his cock.

Then he was pushing her away, standing up, dragging her with him. He yanked at her boxer shorts—which, a still functioning part of his brain realized, were actually his anyway—until the fabric gave and he tore them from her. Her tank top soon followed, ripped from her body.

Buffy gasped his name as he lifted her up, slamming her back against the

white tile of the shower. "Angel," she moaned, "Oh, god, Angel, we

shouldn’t be doing this you shouldn’t be doing this what happens if—"

His mouth crashed down on hers, silencing her. His tongue entered her mouth with a hard thrust, and she gasped around it, her arms wrapping around his neck as her legs clung to his waist. Panic warred with the lust flooding her brain.

She wrenched her mouth from his, frustrated tears seeping from her eyes.

"Angel, your soul...if we do this...your soul...," she breathed.

He leaned his forehead against hers. "If I have to go one more minute without being inside you, I will die."

His words caused a tide of need to flood over her, and she nearly caved.

"I can’t survive him again." There was no need to explain who ‘he’ was. Her mind knew that what they were about to do was wrong, and reckless, and irresponsible, but her body, the same body that was trying to wrap itself around him, didn’t care.

With a groan, Angel reached for the ends of his self control, the self control that was so badly frayed when she was around...and found that he couldn’t grab hold of them after all. He had pushed himself too far this time. There was no going back. Roughly, he grabbed her ass, pulled her up, and slid inside. Her tight muscles fought the intrusion.

She screamed his name, the sound bouncing off the tiles.

"I can’t survive being without you," he muttered. "I tried, I fucking tried, but I can’t do it. And if you have to kill me right after, then so be it, but I have to be inside you. Now. Open for me, baby, let me in. I wanna come home."

Tears clogged the back of her throat as the riot in her mind reached a crisis point. She had to choose one way or the other.

Now.

Call it.

Her lips met his in a bittersweet kiss, and she relaxed completely, allowing him into her core. This was going to end in an agony so soul-deep, she knew, as surely as she knew anything, she could not, would not, survive it. But she had been stretched as close to the breaking point as Angel himself had, and the consequences no longer mattered.

All that mattered was him. Inside her. Filling her. Completing her.

It was his turn to moan into her mouth as she tightened around him.

"Buffy," he murmured, his voice thick with tears. "I missed you so much."

Her heart skipped a beat, then resumed, hammering wildly in her chest as he held still inside her. The muscles in his back tensed as he prepared to move, but she whimpered and held him tightly. "I want...I want to remember how this feels..." she whispered brokenly. "I need to be able to remember..."

The pain in her voice caused the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes to flow down his cheeks, wetting her with their coolness. He wanted to promise her that it would be all right, anything to take the heartbreak from her eyes, but he knew as well as she did that nothing would ever be all right again.

Angel was still for several moments, focusing on the sensation of tiny muscles gripping his cock, but eventually, he had to move. He shifted within her, and she gripped his waist, bracing for the onslaught. He didn’t disappoint, his body delving deeply into hers, pushing her into the wall behind them.

He was so big inside her, stretching her delicate walls, forcing them to accept his manhood. She clenched uncontrollably around him, aiding his rapid thrusts, abetting his need for her. He gored her fiercely, and she loved it. She had forgotten; rather, she had forbidden herself to remember how much she craved this, the erotic press of flesh against flesh, his coolness enflaming her past the point of common sense, past the point of return. Her head lolled back against the tile, all her strength used to push herself onto his plunging cock.

His eyes fell to the small scars on her neck.

"I...scarred you," he said unsteadily, his hips driving into hers.

"You marked me," she countered. "You marked me as yours, and I’m proud of it. Take me again, Angel." If it was the last good memory of him she was to have, she wanted him embedded in her totally, manhood and fangs both claiming her as his own.

The part of his mind that recognized that this was the last time they would ever do this egged him on. Her head was turned to the side, baring her neck to him. He could hear the life pulsing through her, and suddenly it was too much. She was his life. She was his, she would always be his, despite everything to the contrary. They were destined for each other, and no matter what happened after this moment, he knew that there could be nothing so right as this act of love they committed between them.

With a feather light touch, his lips brushed her neck, feeling the differences in the texture of her skin and the scar tissue. She cried out, arching up towards him, pushing her throat against the sharpness of fangs. Helplessly, he bit down, and drew deep.

Stars exploded behind her closed eyes as the sweet pain of the bite rushed through her, all her muscles tightening and gathering as the release tore her apart. She tried to scream, but found she didn’t have the breath for it, her mouth hanging open instead as she felt him freeze in her embrace.

The taste of her filling his mouth was nearly too much, the salty, coppery tang of her blood sending him past any semblance of restraint. As her orgasm rippled around and through him, he gripped her hips, and drove himself home with as much strength as he could muster. His roar of triumph was muffled by her throat, but Buffy heard it nonetheless, smiling in primitive satisfaction.

*****

Time passed slowly, the lovers clinging to each other, neither wanting to admit the inevitability of what would follow.

When the golden haze of climax faded, Buffy’s eyes opened. Now was the reckoning. It was time to pay for their stolen moment of joy. And pay they would, with the ultimate sacrifice. Her breath hitched in her throat, and his lips immediately brushed across her forehead as he hushed her.

"Shhh."

"Was it worth it, Angel? Was it worth what’s going to happen now?"

He nodded his head slowly. "Yes. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me."

A sob tore through her, heralding stronger, fiercer ones. As her slim body convulsed with them, Angel gathered her more securely in his arms, and stepped out of the tub, intent on getting her dry and clothed before the change overtook him.

After toweling her off, he carried her out of the bathroom, and placed her mute form upon his bed. Turning around, he searched his dresser for a t-shirt and boxer shorts, and then dressed her. Throughout, she was still and silent, like a doll.

He pulled back the covers and slid her in. She watched him the whole time, as though she were memorizing him. Then he turned away from her and dressed quickly. When he was done, he leaned down and kissed her lingeringly, tasting the tears that flowed freely down her face.

"Where are you going?" she finally asked.

"I’m going to make it easy on the both of us. I’m going to take a walk in the sun."

Her heart clenched in her breast at the thought of losing him one second before she had to. "Don’t."

"It’s better that way."

"Don’t," she repeated. "Stay with me. Stay with me until you...go."

"Then you’ll have to kill me."

"I know."

"Can you do that?"

"I did it once already."

He stared at her for a second. "I guess you did." Then he climbed into bed, wrapping her in his arms. "It’s...kind of painful, so when I start to thrash around...you’ll know it’s happening."

She rested her head on his chest, and they were quiet for a long time.

He was the first to speak.

"I own this building. And the car...and the mansion in Sunnydale, and a bunch of other things. I have a will. My lawyer has it. Cordelia will know."

"And?"

"And, everything I have is yours. I’ve left it all to you."

Her eyes welled up again. "I don’t want it."

"I don’t care if you don’t want it. It’s all yours. Do something good with it."

They were silent once more.

Then she spoke, only the barest tremor in her voice betraying her anguish.

"How am I going to live without you?"

"You’re a survivor, Buffy. You’re the strongest person I know."

"What if I let him kill me?"

Angel’s mouth tightened. "You’re tougher than that. Besides, he doesn’t want to kill you. He wants to turn you. He wants you, in his own way, as much as I do."

"What if I let him? At least we’d be together."

"Don’t even think that. Don’t even." His voice broke over the words.

"Why not? Our souls would be free...together. And our bodies would be joined."

Suddenly terrified, he clutched her chin. "If he turns you, the two of you would be unstoppable. Nothing, no one could stop you if you were united. He knows that. He craves it. You would be his Dark Queen, and you would rule the world at his side."

For the first time, she looked afraid. "We can’t let that happen."

"You won’t. I trust you."

Angel trusted her, but she didn’t know if she trusted herself. Buffy closed her eyes, mouthed a silent prayer for strength to do what she had to do, and tightened her grip on her lover. She would do it. There was no choice.

Unbidden, a thought rose to the front of the chaos within her mind. "But what if...what if the curse is different this time?"

"Different how?"

"Different in that the clause is gone." Her tone was hopeful as the idea formed more fully. "Will had no way of knowing if it was the same curse aslast time when she did it, so maybe—"

Angel’s voice was quiet. "Best not to get your hopes up, Buffy."

Her heart sank. "Oh. Right."

With that, they lapsed back into silence.

 

Choose Your Own Ending:

The Angst Ending

The Happy Ending