Part 31

If looks could kill, he would be a pile of ashes, Angelus thought. Willow was glowering at him furiously. He knew he had a wicked grin on his face, but he couldn’t help himself. Imagining the Slayer’s reaction to his relationship with Willow was great fun to contemplate. “Genevieve made the suggestion that you share our joyous news with your friends, sweetheart, not me.”

“Yes, but, *she* means well.” Willow pointed an accusing finger at him, “You don’t. You’re just sitting there loving the idea of Buffy going all ballistic. And, and, probably picturing Xander’s reaction and how upset he would get—which is just, just icing on your imaginary cake.”

“Darling, that’s just not true,” he lied smoothly. He managed to tone down his grin, and now, thanks to Willow, added the stupid boy’s undoubtedly furious response to his fiendish little fantasy.

Willow rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. It was written all over your face!”

Genevieve was looking back and forth between the two with a bemused expression. “All right, children, that’s enough. Angelus, stop provoking her with that malicious grin—you *do* look suspiciously delighted. And Willow, just ignore him.”

Angelus wasn’t perturbed in the least by being chastised. He continued to gleefully invent diverting scenarios starring the Slayer and the stupe and their horrified reactions to Willow being in love with, and bound eternally to, his evil self. When Willow was his captive, it had been important to keep their relationship a secret. Until he had become sure of her, it had been prudent to maintain the fiction he’d created for her friends and family. Now that she was absolutely his, he wanted *everyone* to know about it. Naturally, her friends finding out and being horrified, now that nothing could be done about it, was pleasing to him. It offended his pride to be kept a dirty little secret. The concept of Willow announcing her love for him to the world *and* making that detestable little cadre of hers monumentally unhappy and angry at the same time pleased him to no end. He was definitely feeling more generous about sharing her with them for a *short* visit than he had previously. However, in the spirit of peacekeeping, he did condescend to censor his facial expression a bit more.

Genevieve tucked her feet beneath her and looked at Willow with sympathy and determination. “Chére, I’m not trying to tell you what to do, just asking that you keep an open mind and hear me out.”

Willow’s jaw was set stubbornly, but she agreed to listen and said grudgingly, “Okay. Go ahead.”

“Prevaricating may be simple for you to pull off in e-mail, but in person it will feel entirely different. Even though you and I have just met, it’s plain to me that you are innately principled and honest. Do you really see yourself sustaining lies over a long period of time? *Especially* with people that you care about so much?”

Frown lines appeared on Willow’s forehead and she squirmed in her chair. “Well…yeah, okay, I see what you mean.” She fidgeted some more and sighed in misery and frustration. “Oh, man, telling them would be *so* not good. This is the thing, Buffy is the Slayer…and, god, Xander hated Angelus even when he was Angel.” She shuddered. “Not to mention…” Willow groaned and blushed, “Angelus inhabits the body of Buffy’s boyfriend. That’s, that’s…ugh.” She looked at Genevieve pointedly, visibly emanating dread, “It would be an issue.”

Angelus might be shielding his expressions, but the images Willow’s words created of her friends’ angst and anger, fueled by the scent she produced as she thought about it, made him want to cackle with glee. God, he thought, he really wanted them to wrap it up for the night—he was feeling really horny. He needed to remain patient, though. Obviously, in spite of hating the idea, Willow was seeing the logic of Genevieve’s point of view.

Genevieve sighed and nodded. “I can see the difficulties. But, Willow, I’m sure your friends love you very much. Certainly their reactions might not be pleasant…”

Willow gave an unladylike snort, “That’s putting it mildly.”

Undeterred, Genevieve continued, “But, once they get over the initial shock and anger, I’m sure they’ll listen to reason. If you’re as dear to them as they are to you, they won’t have any choice. After all, *fate* has decreed your relationship. Who can argue against that? You’ll have to explain to them that you and Angelus didn’t choose this union. Placing blame is impossible given the facts. They’ll see for themselves that you’re, quite obviously, happy and thriving. True friends should be able to take that into consideration.”

Willow mulled Genevieve’s words over, still looking miserable.

Seeing that she was making headway, Genevieve continued, “Where there’s a Slayer, there’s invariably a Watcher…”

Willow let out a loud, reverberating groan, “Giles will be so disappointed with me.”

Genevieve’s eyebrows shot up. “*Rupert* Giles?”

Angelus looked at her curiously, as did Willow, and he asked, “Yes, that’s him, why?”

Genevieve’s look of studied innocence didn’t fool him for a second. “Nothing,” she said nonchalantly. “Just a familiar name, that’s all.”

Yeah right, Angelus thought. He’d let it pass for now, but he’d be questioning her on it later.

Willow appeared appeased by Genevieve’s response and was more curious about the relevance of a watcher to the situation. “What does a Watcher being in the picture have to do with anything?”

Genevieve tried not to show relief that the topic was back to more comfortable ground for her, but Angelus was very aware of it. He remained silent as she answered Willow’s question.

“There is precedence in their archives for a relationship such as yours. The Watcher’s Council has records documenting Nicholai and me. My point is, they’re aware of the phenomenon. Which would prove to your friends…”

Angelus couldn’t resist the opportunity, so he interrupted her to ask, “How do *you* know what their records contain?” Genevieve covered quickly, but his watchful eyes caught her fleeting expression of extreme discomfort.

She shrugged casually and waved a hand dismissively, “Oh, you know, you pick up things here and there.”

Curiouser and curiouser, Angelus thought, intrigued. In the natural course of things, one did not ‘just happen’ to “pick up things here and there” when it came to the Watcher’s Council records. He definitely looked forward to getting to the bottom of *that* little mystery, but pretended to be satisfied with her response for now.

Willow was too busy thinking about how the Council’s knowledge might benefit her to notice anything odd. Pinching her bottom lip, she turned things over in her mind and evidently didn’t come up with much. “*Maybe* that’ll help. I just don’t know how…”

Genevieve became more animated and interjected, “But, chére, there’s more! You see, it’s a matter of record that Nicholai’s behavior was…much, uh, *curbed* once I became part of his life.” Her eyes slid sideways, obviously aware that while this would be welcome news to Willow, the vampire element in the room would, most likely, see things quite differently. “I’m certain that the council is worried about Angelus’ reemergence. His reputation is legendary—and well documented. Once they discover the nature of your relationship, the re-arrival of The Scourge of Europe in modern times won’t seem as dreadful. In theory.”

Willow was very interested in what Genevieve had said and was about to question her, but was cut off by a furious Angelus.

“What the hell do you mean I won’t be thought of as ‘so dreadful’?! That’s…that’s just fucking intolerable,” Angelus bellowed. “A master vampire’s reputation is of the utmost importance. He *must* be feared. It’s imperative—respect and standing depend on it.”

Genevieve looked annoyed and said testily, “Don’t be so dramatic, Angelus. How am I ever going to help Willow resolve her issues if you keep making everything about you? You *knew* Nicholai. Was *his* fierce reputation compromised in the vampire community, where it counted? Of course not,” she scoffed.

Angelus scowled at her, but considered her point. The idea of anyone, demon *or* human, thinking he was anything less than appallingly fearsome pissed him off. That was a given. However, his kind had not only respected Nicholai greatly, he and Genevieve were held in extremely high regard. Their relationship was an aberration, but one that elevated their standing—as opposed to diminishing it in any way. The more he thought about it, the more the potential consequences of his union with Willow, and how they would be perceived by the rest of the world, appealed to him. After all, hadn’t he foreseen himself and Willow as a power couple from the beginning? Before he was even aware of what their connection entailed, he’d sensed that they were destined to be something exceptional. He chuckled gloatingly, now pleased with himself and the prestige the future held for him and his woman.

Willow tsked and rolled her eyes. “Angelus, you are so full of yourself. Now that your ego has been pacified—or pumped up—or whatever went on with you there—can we please get back to me?”

Genevieve snickered.

Angelus smiled serenely, “Of course, darling. My ego and I are now content to sit here quietly and not interrupt.” He motioned benevolently, “Please continue.”

Willow giggled and looked at Genevieve, “Sure, he’s smug and narcissistic, but I love him.”

Genevieve laughed and replied, “He’s always been that way and it works for him somehow. Nicholai and I took to him immediately the night we met him for the first time. His self-assurance and charm can be very winning.”

Willow grinned. “And he’s hot.”

Genevieve nodded and waggled her eyebrows. “That never hurts in making a good impression, does it?” She turned to Angelus, “Are you enjoying this?”

He smirked. “Naturally. But while I’d love to savor the admiration of you beautiful ladies all night, I do have something relevant to interject into your conversation.” Choosing his words carefully so he wouldn’t unnecessarily upset Willow, he said, “I’ve intentionally stayed out of Sunnydale recently. Any activities that Willow’s friends might perceive as objectionable…have been conducted elsewhere. In other words, my behavior of late—to their knowledge—hasn’t included anything that would damage the impression you suspect the Watcher’s Council might have when they learn of my association with Willow.”

Genevieve nodded thoughtfully. “Very good. That should help matters a great deal.”

Angelus glanced at Willow, who was obviously making an effort not to think too hard about what his recent activities specifically included.

Genevieve smiled at Willow affectionately, “Chére, you’ve done a remarkable job of dealing with all you’ve learned tonight. Why don’t we all retire and you can sleep on it? You don’t have to decide anything until you’ve considered all the facts and had a chance to come to conclusions that you’re comfortable with. There’s no need to rush, and no pressure.”

Willow smiled at her gratefully. “That sounds really good. I have a lot to think about and get used to. I’m so tired that I don’t think I can even…” she paused to yawn. “Tomorrow I’ll be fresher and more able to ask questions and make decisions…and stuff. Do you have a room and everything that you need?”

“Yes, thank you. James gave Amerie and me a lovely room and we’re all settled.” Genevieve raised an eyebrow at her. “There is one more thing I’d like to add before we call it a night. While you’re considering all that I’ve said and contemplating going home and telling your friends the truth, keep in mind that I’d be happy to go with you. You could introduce me as a friend you met while you were away—which is true. I could lend you moral support and help ease the way. Besides, it would be a pleasure to meet your friends. Not only are they exceptional enough to be considered special by someone as wonderful as you, but the uniqueness of the situation is intriguing to me. A Slayer with a supporting group of friends to help her is unheard of. It would be very gratifying indeed to meet the people willing to take on the burdens and unpleasant realities that the Chosen One’s life entails. This Buffy is a lucky girl. Well…that is, for a Slayer. One could never really use the word ‘lucky’ with regard to a Slayer’s lot in life. I’ve always felt sorry for them.”

Willow smiled wearily at Genevieve. “Thank you for the offer. I have no idea what I’m going to do yet. If I do tell them, it would be great to have you there for support. If I don’t tell them, it would still be great to have you go to Sunnydale with me to meet them when I visit. I’d like that very much. Buffy’s calling *is* tough for her, but I think you’d be impressed with her and how she handles it. And you’re right; it’s time for bed. I’ll be thinking over everything you said—and thank you for all your thoughtful input. It’s very generous of you to take the time to help—it’s a strange and confusing time.”

Angelus rolled his eyes. Genevieve might *think* she wanted to meet that pack of losers, he thought contemptuously. Surely, once she met them, she’d wonder what all the fuss was about. Diplomatic guy that he was, he kept those thoughts to himself. Right now, he was just glad to finally be bedroom bound with Willow. Hugs were exchanged and everyone said their goodnights. The second all of the social niceties were accomplished, Willow surprised him by firmly taking his arm and rapidly heading upstairs with him securely in tow.

Once they were in their room, she pushed him against the closed door with raw hunger in her eyes. She’d certainly changed gears fast, Angelus thought. He loved the aggressiveness and seduction she was suddenly exhibiting. Smirking, he said, “Willow, I like…”

She pressed her fingers to his lips and her expression was beseeching and intense. “Shh. No talking. I’ve had enough of talking, and thinking, and surprises for now. It’s time for just *us*. Here. Now. Making love, forgetting everything outside our bedroom for now. Anything else can wait.” The look in her eyes was desperate and determined…almost feral. “Please.”

Holding him in a captivated gaze, her hands slid from his shoulders and her fingernails scraped his nipples through his shirt enticingly as they passed. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she stood on tiptoe and claimed his lips in a bruising kiss. Her tongue teased his and her lips dominated him with brutal passion.

Her mood change had caught him off guard, but he gladly capitulated to her sensual demands. Squeezing Willow’s ass, he pulled her more firmly against him, letting her feel his rock hard shaft. Whatever she wanted in this wanton state, she sure as hell wasn’t going to meet any resistance from him.

While allowing her to maintain control—which he instinctively understood was important right now—he ground his pelvis into hers and reveled in the almost violent nature of the kiss.

They were both moaning, their bodies writhing together. Willow was emanating so much heat that Angelus’ entire body was warmed. He fully intended to take her with the aggression that she obviously craved, but at the moment, he couldn’t imagine wanting to move beyond the erotic sensations they were sharing. Their voracious mouths and fully clothed bodies were creating sexual enjoyment that was nearly as satisfying as full out naked, in the bed, fucking, he thought with what mental function he could muster at the moment. And *Willow* was the demanding instigator of this incredible feeling.

Certainly, being dominated sexually was something he’d always enjoyed under the right circumstances—but this was…beyond. Finally, his cloudy brain put a finger on it: Willow was displaying desire and force with the utter confidence of ownership. She now knew, without question, that he was hers and had no doubt that he’d completely respond. He was hers, and she was his, and there were no boundaries to the rampaging want they shared. His thirst for her soared to a previously unprecedented level. Nobody else could ever come close to quenching it—and Willow did it effortlessly. They were each other’s…brass ring. The source and fulfillment of infinite, exquisite longing. The realization didn’t come close to the feeling. Words or thoughts couldn’t convey the powerful…oneness.

Angelus willingly and enthusiastically succumbed to the indescribable, magnetic abyss that was this…this…mating. He was sure that this level of attraction between two beings had never before been experienced by anyone. It was profound, and it was theirs. Together they had ascended to something seemingly unachievable because it went beyond the imagination: Sublime unity.

He couldn’t even revel in the superiority of them as a couple at the moment. This experience and the epiphany were taxing his balls mightily. Coming without his beloved was out of the question, as was seizing the reins. Willow *had* to be in charge…for now. He was so turned on, his cock ached and throbbed and he whimpered in desperation; mercifully she responded to his plea.

Pulling away, gasping for breath, Willow looked at him with glazed eyes and demanded, “Take your clothes off.”

He couldn’t move fast enough, and didn’t remotely give a damn that he might look foolish in his rush to comply. He was too fucking grateful.

Willow was out of her sweatpants and shirt and headed towards their bed while he was still wrestling with his belt. Haste made him clumsy. Buttons flew as he watched her standing and waiting for him with absolute promise smoldering in her wild eyes.

The blatant carnality she exuded without self-consciousness almost unmanned him and he struggled to gain some self-control. Once he was completely undressed, he stood stock-still and uttered her name in a tone of hushed reverence.

He hadn’t even realized that he was shaking. Briefly, he closed his eyes, seeking calm in the face of the storm running through him. He was a bit at sea in the midst of this…compulsion. It was daunting to be experiencing something new—he didn’t know how to handle it. So he just let the purity of it wash over him and opened his eyes.

Willow’s arms were opened to receive him. It was reassuring to him to see she was overwhelmed herself. Their eyes locked and he walked into her embrace. She singed him with her heat and their lips melded in primal consummation.

It felt like Willow’s hands were everywhere at once. Her possessive stroking of his back and ass left fiery trails on his skin. His cock jumped when she squeezed his hips and thrust into him. Abandoning his attempt to let her be in control, he pushed her onto the bed, falling between her splayed legs. He took her face in his hands and kissed her with all the passion building up inside of him and thrust his hard cock against her wet cunt without entering her. Her nails scratched a bloody path down his back, making him howl and he thrust harder. Willow raised her knees and maneuvered her hips, trying desperately to force his entry, but he resisted. She mewled in protest even as her lips continued to devour his hungrily.

He couldn’t fuck her yet. Not yet, not yet, not yet, he chanted to himself. He wanted to draw out this momentous occasion. But, god, he thought with frustration, the desire to ruthlessly drive into her with all of his might was tempting.

He couldn’t allow the culmination of this coupling to be routine in any way. Somewhere deep within him, the strength came to pull his lips from hers. She responded by fiercely biting his tongue in an effort to hold on.

He roared and let his blood from the bite flow into both of their mouths. Thinking he’d succumbed to her demand, she resumed the kiss. Not giving her a chance to react this time, he held her head down by roughly grasping her hair and pulled away. Her expression was one of animalistic lust, but the sight of his blood smeared on her lips was what he focused on. It incited him into an avaricious frenzy, but one determined to make sure that her pleasure matched the enormous depth of feeling running through him. He *needed* to physically communicate his euphoria.

Willow keened and moaned insensibly as her body shook with need. He responded with a guttural groan and sank his fangs into the delicate skin and tender flesh of her neck. Her blood was divine ambrosia and her frantically bucking hips abused his excruciatingly hard cock. Sheer force of will kept him from coming as she screamed his name in orgasm. While shudders ran through her, he soothingly laved the wound he’d caused.

Willow’s delirious murmurings of satisfaction hummed through him as he continued his ardent assault. Her experiencing *repeated* explosions of completion was his sole objective right now—no matter how badly he wanted to seek his own release. He was on a sacred mission.

Moving down her body, he feasted on the sight of her heaving breasts and sucked one perfect, succulent nipple into the vacuum of his mouth, swirling his tongue reverently. The taste of her and the texture of the tight bud made him greedy and he pulled as much of her beautiful tit into his mouth as he could manage.

Willow was grunting her encouragement and pulling his hair painfully as she buried her fingers in it, pressing him more firmly against her. Her hips thrust up rhythmically, but he continued undeterred. He switched his attentions to her other breast, but squeezed the one he had deserted lovingly, occasionally alternating his touch with a painful tweak to the distended nipple. It was impossible to discern the difference between her reactions to the pain and pleasure. Surely no more perfect woman had ever walked the earth, he thought with deep, abiding devotion.

Willow squirmed and moaned in the throes of passion; he could feel the tension in her building again to a fever pitch. He increased his efforts, and when her body began to go taut, sank his fangs into her breast, pushing her over the edge and tasting her as she came like a freight train. Her body’s seizures threatened to bounce him off, so he braced himself and was careful not to tear her skin with his fangs. As her body settled down, he licked and nursed at the wound, periodically squeezing gently to release more blood. Purring loudly, he temporarily lost himself in the moment.

Willow’s feet teasing his ass brought him out of his trance, and he growled, viciously aroused, as her toes traced his crack and nudged his asshole. Her hot, wet snatch was pulsing against his skin, and, god, he wanted to enter her like a battering ram and fuck her in half. But, not yet, he thought with fierce determination. He wasn’t finished taking advantage of the storming tempest possessing his woman. He wouldn’t allow himself to plow her into oblivion until his fingers and mouth accomplished what his ravishing of her neck and tits had—all consuming rapture. What was chipping away hardest at his control was the knowledge that his fangs sinking into her was what had set off her orgasms. The idea of her peaking over and *over* again from his bite made his balls contract painfully. With a tortured groan, he slid himself further down her body, licking and sucking a wet path down her belly.

Willow moaned and writhed helplessly as she fisted her hands into the bedcovers. She was incoherent and not aware of anything but what he was doing to her. As it should be, he thought with possessive satisfaction.

With a gentleness he hadn’t thought possible in his current state, he caressed her satiny inner thighs with his fingertips as he spread her legs. Her clitoris was swollen and her cunt glistening from her juices—it was a gorgeous sight. Before he could devour her with his tongue, she grunted impatiently and thrust her hips urgently, begging him to satisfy her.

“Uh, uh, uh,” he chastised, spreading her legs further apart and holding her knees tightly to keep her still.

“Angelus! Pleeeeease,” she hissed in a harsh whisper.

He chuckled hoarsely and ran the flat of his tongue between her engorged nether-lips, savoring the taste and texture, then he licked her greedily, slightly penetrating her every few passes. She was panting so hard he thought she might hyperventilate. Her need to come again was great and he just wasn’t letting her quite get there. She was too overwrought to form words and beg—but he got the message. Finally, he gave her what she wanted so badly, sucking her clit hard, then rapidly palpating the sweet spot just beneath it with his tongue. She screamed and surged, pounding the bed with her fists.

Before her orgasm subsided, he entered her with two fingers, stabbing into her harshly, aiming exclusively at her g-spot. Her legs quivered and she whimpered helplessly. He knew her body so well and loved being the only one in the world capable of doing this to her. He was an expert at driving Willow mad with pleasure. He sustained a steady rhythm until her vaginal tissue clamped vigorously, then applied pressure to her perineum and clitoris simultaneously. Her entire body relaxed except for the muscles spasming riotously around his fingers, and she let out a high pitched monotone cry that went on and on. It was incredible—as if, he thought, her orgasm was so unbelievably intense that every other nerve ending in her body wanted to lend its energy to the ones between her legs to aid in the erotic overload that she was experiencing.

Angelus didn’t move until she was silent again and the depths of her pussy stilled. The only sound in the room was Willow’s labored breathing. *Now* he would fuck her. As she lied there in a stupor, spread-eagled, he swiftly mounted her and savagely tore into her with his eager cock. He roared as his hips pistoned against her, luxuriating in the relief of finally being inside of her. He stopped abruptly, so he wouldn’t come, but stayed buried to the hilt. He swallowed hard; Willow was capable of such exquisite sexual responses. Right now the internal flutters and pussy spasms surrounding his cock were intoxicating. They didn’t indicate imminent orgasm—just her body receiving his with ecstasy. It turned him on immensely. The aching eroticism of Willow’s body telling him how badly she wanted him filled him with possessive pride and primordial satisfaction.

Once he judged himself able to stave off his climax long enough to give her another one, he resumed the punishing tempo he had set earlier. Willow’s hips bucked and reared in response, forcing him deeper and deeper. She was using her feet as leverage, pushing herself off the bed, literally slamming her pelvis into his. She was crying out every time she was fully impaled and he knew part of it had to be from pain. Pain she was actively seeking, he thought with a shudder of besotted delight.

“Oh, god!” she called out hoarsely. “Right there. Right. EXACTLY. There. Fuck me Angelus! Fuck me so hard!”

“I am, baby. I am,” he responded in an unsteady voice. “Christ almighty, woman, fucking you is pure GODDAMNED BLISS!” He loved plowing into her without having to hold back. Screwing Willow without fear of permanently damaging…or even killing her, was amazing. Letting loose with the full extent of his desire for her was the best way in the world to celebrate what they had learned tonight of her immortal status. He couldn’t last, though. Shaking with the Herculean effort it took not to come, he coaxed, “I need you to come, Willow. Come for me, beloved.” Hastily mashing his fingertips against her clit, he ground them against it.

Their passion crested and they rode the waves together, letting the tide carry them to the shore of exhaustion. Angelus was so drained that the inside of his head was thrumming and he almost thought he *could* hear the ocean.

Their firestorm of passion had been out-of-this-world, Angelus thought happily, but he was too tired to move as he lay in a spent heap at Willow’s side.

Neither of them spoke for awhile, then Angelus remembered something and smiled, “*You* said ‘fuck’.”

Willow giggled drowsily. “It just popped out.” She paused for a couple of beats, then said softly, “*You* said ‘beloved’.”

“So I did,” he acknowledged quietly.

It had been quite a night.

End Part 31