The Penny Series

Ficlet 20) Penny Red
Summary: Oh the connotations implied with that title. Cough.

The world was focused down to a five yard radius and the vampire he fought that lied within that circle. Buffy was nearby fighting the other two armored vampires and he worried unnecessarily about her. She would be fine. She was the slayer after all but that didn’t stop him from worrying about her. They were cheating after all, armor and swords.

With his waned attention, the vampire struck him in the thigh with his sword. A snarl curled his lips as he was rather rudely pulled from his musings on his blonde slayer. Like lightning he struck out and caught the vampire on the chin, forcing him back. The five yard radius moved away from Buffy and her fight, no longer intertwining together as he lashed out at the unethical vampire. He would never have done something so crude and rudimentary. His skills were above and beyond the need for phallic objects to fight with. Sneering, he kicked out again with his wounded leg, and knocked the bloody sword from the vampire’s hand.

There. Satisfied, he bent to pick up the weapon. Nothing to it. His thigh throbbed in protest to the movement of grabbing the sword and he gritted his teeth together.

If the vampires nowadays would cheat by using weapons, then he would too. Like a nice sharp broad sword or possibly a battle ax. Hypocritical to say the least, but he hated getting cut up if he could easily avoid it by sinking to their level. Maybe he should order Buffy something as well. Possibly a custom made set of daggers and leather sheaths for her arms and legs.

A wave of lust ran through him and straight to his groin at the thought of seeing Buffy in nothing but those sheaths and daggers. She was a dangerous creature of the night, but gorgeous in her deadly attire.

He looked over his shoulder to see how she was fairing. Buffy was ruthlessly beating the shit out the one remaining vampire. The ugly bloke’s face was covered in blood, Buffy obviously found the flaw in wearing armor. The vampire would be permanently disfigured if he were so lucky to live. Reassured that she was okay, he turned back around gripping the sword tighter in his fist.

A nice beheading should do the trick. He swung the blade about the height of the neckline of the 5 foot something vampire but met only air. The vampire was gone… disappeared with the aid of the night and his own carelessness. Suspicious of the sudden vanishing act, he scanned the edge of the cemetery and turned back toward Buffy. He scanned the area around her, making sure that the vampire wasn’t going to sneak up on her blind side in the open area.

His senses didn’t catch any movement but that didn’t necessarily mean that vampire wasn’t there. He did another scanning and returned to the same conclusion. His attention returned to her immediately at her small labored grunt, but he needn’t be so agitated and anxious to rush to her defense. Buffy had just staked her vampire through armor and ribs straight into the heart.

Damn was she scary at times, glad to be on the good side of his sweetheart, he ambled over to her grinning. When she glanced up, he let out an appreciative whistle, and hugged her close before stepping away.

Buffy gave a little bow. “Why thank you.”

“Through armor and the rib cage. You’re a little frightening at times,” he said shaking his head in admiration.

“Well I must thank Mr. Calcium and Mrs. Milk, without them I wouldn’t be here today,” she quipped, her hand reaching out to finger the edge of the sword in his hand.

Noticing where her attention was focused, he shrugged. “We need weapons.”

“Hence a pointy wooden thing,” Buffy teased.

Adamant, he explained. “No, we need metal weapons too. We can’t let them have the advantage over us. Doing so might get us hurt or killed.”

Buffy frowned, her gaze pursued his body for any hint at injuries at his words. With the threat of earlier gone, his body became almost obsessively attuned to the small beauty in front of him. His groin tightened unbearably, his chest constricted, his senses picked up everything about her, from the sound of her flustered heartbeat to the smell of her arousal mixed with the scent of her blood.

He didn’t bother to check for wounds to find the source of blood, he knew where it was coming from. It was seeping sluggishly out of her feminine core. That alone made it harder for him to control his hunger, his need for her.

Blood lust and his body’s yearning to be one with her, clouded his thinking. The rising swell of passion was trampled on furiously, before he embarrassed himself in front of her. To his horror he realized he’d missed something that she said.

A soft blush stained his cheeks when he asked gruffly. “What did you say?”

A knowing smile lit up her eyes, and she touched his thigh lightly, making him jump. “You’re hurt,” she murmured. “We should head back to the mansion and fix you up.”

He nodded slowly, not trusting himself to speak.

Buffy nodded too and he suddenly remembered just how fierce and vicious Buffy was when she was menstruating. The evidence to that little fact happened tonight, two vampire taken out in under five minutes both with weapons and armor. He smiled weakly and decided tonight he’d try his best not to make her mad. Warm tea with cinnamon and honey, mellowed her out during this time of the month. Good thing he had some in his kitchen.

From the corner of his eyes he noticed the glinting of a small piece of metal. It was a ring. He gave Buffy the sword before squatting and picking up the silver band.

“Oh great,” Buffy said sarcastically, motioning with the sword, “I’ll stake them and you can pilfer their stuff.”

He cast her an annoyed look, glowering as he stood up. The ring glinted in his palm. “You should take this to Giles so he can research it in his books.”

“Why don’t you take it to him yourself?” Buffy grumbled.

His eyes shuttered, as he closed himself off from her. “Giles,” he started quietly, “has an aversion to me, Buffy. He’d rather have me dead and dust before talking to me.”

“Angel,” Buffy whispered, “I’m sorry. That was bad of me.”

“Let’s just go to the mansion,” he told her brusquely taking off in that general direction. Buffy clambered after him with the sword in her small hand, the grip uncomfortable with the wide handle.

“What’s up Angel?” she panted running alonde hde his sulking form, knowing it wasn’t the snide comment she made about him asking Giles himself, more likely to be the unmentioned fact that she was menstruating and how it made it harder for him to control himself around her.

“You’re bleeding,” he slurred around fangs, refusing to face her as he picked up his pace so that she had to jog to keep up with him.

“Damn it, Angel,” Buffy cursed, winded. “Slow down.”

“Leave me alone Buffy,” he growled suddenly. “I can take care of the injury myself. Alone.”

He could feel the hurt radiating off of her small frame, but resolutely kept walking without slowing his pace. She fell behind now refusing to race after him any longer. As he distanced himself, he regretted being rude to her, but he was relieved nonetheless when he could no longer smell her two delectable scents intermingling together.

By the time he had fixed himself up at the mansion, he was feeling guilty for being so harsh to her. Carefully placing the last piece of tape over the gauze, he found his hands idle, cradled on his thighs. Hunkering his shoulders, he admitted that he’d fucked up, as he gathered up the first aid kit and tossed it into the medical cabinet.

The fabric of his pants scrapped at the edge of the bandage and he grimaced. He slipped the leather duster over his shoulder and exited the mansion. He would find her and apologize. A telltale smirk crawled up his lips as he thought about how they would spend their time making up. Sometimes he wondered if he was sick and twisted, because a part of himself had to actually be looking for a way to fight with her so that he could love her and reassure her of his love for her. There was no better ambrosia than an argument.

When he got to the Bronze he paused outside, he blinked slowly for a few moments before gathering the nerve to push open the door to get into the club. The bouncer nodded to him from the stool. “Hey boss.” Cheerfully ignoring the muscle he walked into the Bronze and stared around the gathering of gyrating bodies for Buffy.

A growl rumbled loudly in his chest when he finally saw her. She was dancing, if you could call it that, with a bunch of college boys. Mated with would definitely be a better term. Angry and bristling, he stalked over to where she was undulating suggestively in the circle of worshiping boys. Buffy looked up suddenly, smiling as she extracted herself from the mob of pawing sweaty greasy boy toys. When she reached him he snarled tersely at her, “Who are they?” He nodded toward the groupies revolving around Faith now.

Buffy looked innocently over her shoulder before glancing back at him. A teasing smirk lit up her face as she coyly answered. “Them? Boys.” He was unprepared for her graceful leap and awkwardly caught her, as Buffy wrapped her legs around his waist, rubbing her enticing hot core against his belly. “I like you,” he heard her whisper right before her lips crashed against his.

Possessively he kissed her, wrapping his arms tighter around her back as he staggered over to a column. Buffy pulled away gasping, her chest heaving, brushing her hardened nipples against his torso with every breath. He groaned against her neck, lifting his face to nuzzle his nose to the soft lobe of her ear. “I hate it when you do that,” he groaned defeated, acknowledging to her his jealousy.

He leaned backed, gazing into her eyes for a long time before he continued. “It makes me crazy.”

“I’m sorry,” Buffy murmured, not sounding very sincere with her voice lilting in soft faintly mocking laughter.

“Somehow I highly doubt that,” he muttered dryly, bending to kiss her. He caught her pouting lower lip and nibbled there gently until she moaned and arched into him, pulling him closer to her straining body.

“Then next time don’t be a jerk about my period. I can’t help it, it’s a nature thing. Besides if you keep getting defensive about my menstruating, it’ll totally ruin my one fantasy about taking this messy monthly business and turning it into a passionate glutting fest frenzy.”

He choked, abruptly let her go, lips and all, and groaned hoarsely when she slid down against him drawing out their contact inch by torturous inch. “You,” he started scratchily, swallowing thickly as he hastened to brace himself away from the tempting seductress before him. “You can’t be serious. You- you don’t actually- actually fantasize aboumethmething- something like that, do you?”

Buffy gasped sounding horrified. “What and not make use of thry cry convenient, ‘my boyfriend and lover is a vampire’ thing?”

Stupidly he stood there blinking down at her, when she laughed again and ducked under his arm.

“Your expression is priceless, Angel. Why don’t we go to the mansion?” When he made no move to follow her, she grabbed his arm and continued. “Besides I have a killer back ache and I’d like some hot chocolate with whip cream and marshmallows.”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he said only half teasing, as he swooped her up in his arms as they exited the Bronze.

Buffy rested her head against his shoulder, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. “Only the petite death if I can help it.”

He groaned again, attempting not to stagger in his walk as they made their way quickly through the streets of Sunnydale. “That will be the death of me.”

Buffy sobered, pressed a gentle kiss to his throat. “I know,” she whispered. “I have the strangest urge to get a few things from my room, care to make a pit stop?”

With a nod he quickly changed their course and soon he was standing in her room to the right of the windowsill as he watched her collect a few toiletries and blushingly shove a package of Kotex into her overnight bag, and a bundle of cloth he assumed to be her pajamas. Mr. Gordo made the trip into the bag as well and finally she stuffed some clothes for tomorrow inside and zipped the duffel bag up slinging it over her shoulder. Quietly she handed him her book bag and they descended from the tree onto the ground in front of her house.

“I could take your bag and carry you again so your back won’t ache from walking,” he offered, but Buffy shook her head and they left Revello Drive for Crawford Street.

“No need for the guy thing, we’re not that far,” Buffy argued as they walked through one of the numerous cemeteries with her stuff.

They were silent as they ambled through the headstones, as they neared his mansion, Buffy suddenly grabbed his arm. “Angel?” she asked nervously.

Alarmed, he glandowndown at her golden crown of hair. “Buffy?” he asked questioningly.

She shook her head, mouthing “Never mind.”

Inside the mansion he took her bag and shooed her into the kitchen. “Go make your hot chocolate, I’ll put these upstairs.”

Bounding up the stairs three at a time, he set the bags on the king size bed and started to leave before he turned back. What if he wanted to forget about the bags in the heat of loving her? He bit his lip and replaced the bags onto the floor and pulled down the cover and sheets on the mattress. But then he would trip and be ungraceful, he put them by the door, only that looked tacky like he wanted to her leave soon. The bags were once again replaced against the wall by the bed then picked up and put on one of the settee chairs.

Finally satisfied with the location of her bags, he ran back downstairs to finish Buffy’s hot chocolate. The ambrosia of her luscious feminine scent wafted slowly to him, his eyes crossed in anticipation. Slowly entering the kitchen, and leaned against the counter as she bent behind the refrigerator door to pull out some milk. His gaze rested on the curves of her small breasts as she reached up into a cabinet to grab a mug. Cheerfully leering openly at her, he crossed his arms over his chest as she nuked the milk in the microwave. Thirty seconds later he smiled warmly as she mixed the packet of mint chocolate powder into the hot milk before turning around to face him.

“So my birthday is coming up,” Buffy mentioned slowly, bringing the cup to her lips as she stared at him over the rim.

Amused, he agreed congenially. “I know.”

Buffy’s mouth quirked. “And?” She prompted.

“And what?” he asked teasing her.

She licked her lips, took another small sip, and sidled up to him. “What are you getting me?” she asked coquettishly from beneath fluttering lashes.

“You mean I actually had to get you something?” he asked in faux surprise.

“Angel!” Buffy squealed, smacking him lightly on the arm, sloshing her hot chocolate a little bit.

“I already have it,” he found himself telling her with a soft peck on her lips.

It was definitely an improvement over the last time he searched frantically about for her birthday gift. In advance. A good thing on his list.

“I feel the sudden need for some quality cuddling,” Buffy whispered, putting the empty cup on the counter behind him, as she arched up into another kiss.

He loved it when she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. Mostly because it threw her whole body tightly against his chest and thighs, crushing her breasts against him, cause who was he to complain? His hands cupped her bottom, pulling her snugly against his firm erection, a soft groan reiterating throughout the room. She mewled, wrapping her arms around his neck, clinging to his hard form in desperation of his kiss.

Swiftly, he bent to pick her up and scooped her into his arms. Never breaking the kiss, he moved them into the other room and sat her on the leather winged straight back chair before reluctantly untangling himself from her. Buffy moaned plaintively, arching into him as he left her, begging silently for him not to go. But he did manage to get away long enough to set a crackling fire, but he found himself watching her pull off her top irritably.

He cursed suddenly, and dropped the match he’d been holding in his fingers. Sheepishly under her knowing gaze he struck another and lit the fire before turning back to her. As he ambled over to her, he stripped himself of his t-shirt, watching her eyes grow round. He squatted before her, resting his elbows on either side of the seat cushion, letting his gaze rake slowly over her semi clad body, enjoying the hardening of her nipples beneath her peach cotton bra.

Unhurriedly he trailed a finger along the outer curve of her breast, delighting in her gasp of indrawn breath. Buffy twisted under his light touch, avidly seeking the wandering finger over her tight aching pebbled nipples, but he avoided them much to her apparent distress.

“An-gel!” Buffy whined, grabbing his wrist and shaping his palm around her breast, tired of his teasing.

“Slow Buffy. Slow.” He chuckled, rubbing his thumb over the tightly pearled peak through the layer of cotton fabric.

Her head arched back against the middle of the high back chair, and he tugged her lower as he moved into a kneeling position. Dipping his head, he laid openmouthed kisses all along her pale breasts, ignoring the straining crests again as he drew out the pleasure. Buffy cried out softly as he lapped the underside of her left breast beneath the elastic of her bra. Deftly he removed the offending piece and tossed it aside, rearranging his disheveled lover back against the chair.

Swooping down he caught one straining puckered nipple and worried it between his teeth, loving the sound of her strangled mewl as she clasped his head to her breast where he suckled gladly. He hollowed his cheeks in the effort to elicit from her an orgasm, so that he could tease her longer later on. A small whimper came from her slightly parted mouth, as she stroked the hair at the nape of his neck, arching into his talented mouth. Leaving one laved crest to the harsh elements of the air, Buffy gasped loudly from the dual effects of the cool sensations on her straining peaks as he took the other in his mouth.

“Oh God,” Buffy cried out, tugging on his head in an effort to quell the sensations and yet to intensify them, because she did not know which one she wanted more.

“Oh Angel,” he commanded softly around his new treasure, his breath sensitizing the needy peak exquisitely.

“Oh Angel,” she keened, when he bit down roughly on the base of the strutting tip.

She panted harshly, tossing her head from side to side, as he nibbled his way across her areole to her pearled peak and licked there so thoroughly, that she could no longer tell which direction was up or which was down. That problem though was soon amended when he left the creamy feast of her breasts for the line of her stomach. There he dipped his tongue shallowly into the small indent of her bellybutton, lapping the soft skin inside with his tongue before trailing down to the waist of her jeans.

Overwhelmed, Buffy’s hips arched instinctively upwards seeking a release she so desperately needed. “Please,” she begged, tossing her head back after briefly looking down at him.

He grinned, and licked beneath the band along the line of her pelvis where her thigh met her torso, feeling rather smug when she yelped, but didn’t move away, but into him instead. He could smell the scent that was unique to her, it called out to him, making him hunger for the sweet taste of her blood and nectar. Carefully he unzipped her jeans and pulled them off, before hooking his thumbs under the elastic bands on the sides of her matching cotton panties and removed them slowly, skimming his thumbs along the outside edges of her trembling thighs.

“Beg me,” he murmured, puffing gently against her skin, watching the goosebumps the cool breath rose.

Buffy moaned pitifully, tugging him by his hair and ears closer to her glistening core. “Angel, please, I need you.”

He shook his head, the effect causing his nose to rub against her exposed bloody clit. His hands curled around her thighs and tugged them wider, opening her further to his gaze and touch. Sinfully, he released another puff of air along those sensitized nerves and had to hold her legs tight to keep them from closing instinctively. His mouth fairly salivated to taste the honey blend that dripped sluggishly out of her already.

“No no mo álainn chroí,” he purred, knowing he couldn’t keep away from the temptation before him much longer. “beg me.”

“I want you.” Buffy murmured, adding on frantically, “Your lips, your tongue, your mouth… Now!”

“Since you demanded of me so nicely…” he muttered teasingly against her dripping core, inhaling her ambrosial scent before licking away her dried blood with tentative strokes, opening her slit with hesitancy.

Her juices flowed into his mouth readily as he suckled at her crucial point, enjoying the taste of her honeyed dew and blood on his taste buds. When she neared climax, he eased lower and nibbled gently on her nether lips, suckling them roughly in his mouth, ridding them of the vestiges of blood that coated them. Mindful of her every pant and breathy moan and pleading mewl for satisfaction, he supped from her femininity and aroused her further.

He slipped a finger inside her sopping sheath, tracing her labia with his thumb as he continued to sip her ever flowing creamy moisture. The tang of her blood coiled deliciously down his throat, as he sought to bring more of the aphrodisiac to his waiting mouth. Soon Buffy was arching her hips into every lave of his tongue and thrust of his finger in and out of her trembling sheath. She avidly sought out his every motion and generously he added a second then third finger, twisting them slowly in and out of her hot sheath between the apex of her thighs.

“Hmm Buffy,” he said sensually, almost purring, his mouth red from her blood. “I love the way you taste.”

A high moan sounded from her, and he chuckled against her little bundle of nerves, brushing his lips against the aching peak. ntlyntly, he grazed the edges of his teeth around the hard nubbin and, groaned with her when her vise like muscles clamped around his fingers at the first sign of orgasm. His vampiric features elongated as he struggled to remain focused on her pleasure. Finally he pushed her over the edge by simultaneously stroking her g-spot and, despite his struggles, biting into her straining clit to bring more of her delicious and powerful blood to his mouth.

For a few moments he swallowed greedily the combined cocktail of juices, while rubbing himself through his pants in search for release. Eventually he licked closed the wound he created, glancing up her supple form to see her head tilted back, her breasts heaving with her labored breath. A quiet ‘wow’ left her lips as she fought to regain her senses.

When Buffy glanced down at him, she brought her hand to cup his cheek and tenderly wiped away some of her blood from the corner of his mouth. Suddenly realizing how he must appear, he ducked his head and looked away, hiding himself from her as he labored to bring his features back to his human face void of the demon within.

“Wow, that was better than I thought,” Buffy murmured huskily, running her fingers through the hair at the crown of his head, trailing down to the fine soft hairs at his nape.

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why?” Buffy demanded apprehensively, sitting up despite the languor that settled over her tired body.

“Because I couldn’t control myself,” he growled angry at himself. “Because I liked doing it-”

Indignantly Buffy injected. “I should hope so.”

He glowered at her over his shoulder, before turning back to the flames and hugging his knees. “Because I did get pleasure from the look on your face when bliss curls around your body.”

“Well you’re obviously not very happy about all this, so you know what? I think you’re fine this time.” Buffy pouted, flopping back against the chair before muttering under her breath. “Now I’m grumpy, a moment ago I was blissfully content and now Mr.-Let’s-Suck-All-Joy-Out-of-the-Orgasm has made me grumpy.”

Exasperated, he groused, “It's not the sex that's the danger, Buffy. It's the happiness that comes from being loved by you, and knowing that you do love me, and no one, not you or me, can really be sure exactly where the true happiness line is anymore, because I can’t make love to you.”

“I don’t know,” Buffy offered, wrapping her arms around her naked torso, as she eyes him like he was a piece of chocolate. “You seemed to be doing a pretty darn good impression earlier…”

“You know what I meant. I won’t risk Angelus again Buffy. I’d rather die than let him be free again.” he told her vehemently.

Shaking her head, Buffy dropped her arms, and noticed the spark of heat leap into his eyes right before he closed them tightly. He heard her move away from him, towards the shelves of books along the walls and pull something out. The quiet rustling of pages being leafed through reached his ears before the book slammed. She dropped something into his lap and gingerly he opened his eyes to stare at the letter written in her messy scrawl.

Quietly he opened up the page and read the lyrics she had written in English and Gaelic from a song she had translated first for her benefit and then his. His thumb lightly scratch the penny red postage stamp she had placed on the paper as an impromptu wax seal. It had been her present to him for his unbirthday since he’d never given her a date. Ironically it was the same day he had first met her in New York, though she probably didn’t know that.

The penny red stamp alone must have cost her a small fortune as it was the second stamp type to be produced in the history of Great Britain.

*-*-*

Is a chara mo chléibh, tá an saol a' dul idir me ú. ú.
And my darling, the world is coming between you and me.

Casadh bean sí dom thíos ag Lios Béal an Átha,
I met a fairy woman down by the liss of Béal an Átha

D'fhiafraigh mé dí an scaoilfeadh glas ar bith gra?
I asked her would love ever release its grip?

Is dúirt sí ós íseal i mbriathra soineanta sámh?
And she said softly in words calm and soothing

"Nuair a théann sé faoin chroí, ni scaoiltear as é go brách.
"When it goes into the heart there is no release from it ever"

*-*-*

He traced the words with his fingers, before looking up at her. “I love you. Let’s get you tucked in for bed.”

Buffy smiled serenely, innocently seductive as she bent to gather her clothes. He grabbed her hand, and tugged the pants and bra out of her grip, guiding her into his arms. He steeled himself for the sweet torture of her kiss, the feel of her body aligned with his, separated only by the clothes he wore. He groaned helplessly and dipped to kiss her parted lips. Buffy immediately stood on tiptoe and clung to him, kissing him deeply, pressing against his arousal.

Pulling back sharply, he swept her up into his arms again, and carted her off up the stairs into his room… into his bed. He groaned again, and set her on her feet. Awkwardly he motioned to her bags on the settee, then clasped his neck. He needed to get out of here quickly before he lost control. Buffy was temptation, and he was nearing his limits. “I can’t stay in here tonight, not,” he swallowed thickly. “I thought I might be able to, but I don’t think I could keep my hands to myself.”

“I don’t mind,” Buffy said, looking up from rummaging through her bag before withdrawing her pajamas and slipped it over her head.

It was really nothing more than a large frayed, ratty, holey t-shirt. One of the holes gaped right beneath the curve of her breast and another near curve of her hip and another---

“Damnation,” he whispered dryly, his eyes flitting longing to each of the holes. “I’ve got to go. Now.”

He left her there watching him with wide eyes as he escaped her. Visions of warm gooey caramel and melted chocolate danced in his head, and he knew he’d be a goner if he wasn’t out of the mansion right then. Right now. Quickly he exited the sprawling estate and headed out to the desolate regions of Sunnydale. Aimlessly, he wandered the cemeteries until dawn threed ted to burn him into a crispy cream and reluctantly he withdrew back to the mansion. Tension unrelieved coiled in him, need for her still burned hotly in him, as he climbed the stairs, anticipating and dreading the moment he’d step into the master bedroom.

Like an angel she slept curled in his sheets, his pillow under her head and shoulder. A smile traced his features as he stared down at her trusting sleeping form, and quietly he slipped into bed, careful to remain fully clothed and separated by the sheets if not the comforter. Automatically he curled around her, wrapping an arm around her waist and snuggled closer to her still figure.

They lay there like that for many hours, her sleeping as he stared down at her unguarded features, feeling a protectiveness curl around his heart. He would keep her safe from all harm, no matter the cost, even his soul. And just when he was close to falling into a restless slumber, she whispered groggily, “Can I move in with you?”

(end chapter twenty)