The Silken Cage: Journey

A.N.  Originally posted as Parts 22c and 22d.

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Buffy slept restlessly, the enchanting poison in her veins not permitting true repose. Even in the midst of dreams–which were all of him–she sensed her mate was no longer touching her, caressing her, easing the hunger.

But she also sensed that he was near by.

Opening heavy lidded eyes, Buffy gazed at Angelus, who had drawn the stool from the vanity to the foot of the bed where he had apparently sat watching her. His expression was pensive, as if he were deep in thought, and she was fleetingly reminded of Angel. But he wasn’t Angel, was not her tender, brooding, lost love. Her little play with the whip wouldn’t have been necessary otherwise. A swift glance around showed the whip discarded and forgotten in a corner of the room, and Buffy suppressed a groan of relief. No sense reminding Angelus of that particular toy. Her back still tingled from the memory of the whip’s caress. All night long she had been gripped by what she realized had to be some sort of mystically induced need. Or mystically prolonged, if not induced: Angelus was his own inducement to carnal excess. But even the extravagant excess with which she had indulged the most carnal of her appetites had served not to sate that need, but to intensify it. Buffy feared that she was now so deep in its grasp that she wouldn’t object if he chose to retrieve the length of braided leather. That way lay a danger she wasn’t ready to face. Resolutely putting the thought aside, she continued to return Angelus’ pensive regard, hoping his interest in that game was over and that she could find other games with which to amuse him.

Her eyes flickered downward, along the beautifully sculpted planes of his body, and she smiled as she realized that he had been stroking a soothing hand along the erection caused by watching her climax in her sleep. He grinned, wolflike and feral, at her response to seeing him pleasure himself, the grin widening as she sat up in the bed and moistened her full lips with her little pink tongue.

"Need a hand with that, lover?" Buffy purred, her mouth watering and her voice husky as she admired the sight of his strong, elegant hand moving languidly over his thick shaft. Her nipples tightened as the ever-present fire in her blood surged higher. Her thighs, already sticky with spent passion, slickened with passion renewed and she squirmed slightly on the bed, trying to ease the ache of arousal if even for a moment.

"Or a mouth," he said agreeably watching his lover appreciatively. If there were a more beautiful vision on the planet than Buffy Summers naked, flush with satisfied desire and trembling with a resurgence of that desire, he had never seen it. "Or you could just bring that tight, wet pussy over here." Buffy cocked a brow at him, her excitement rising even higher at the crude words spoken in his velvet, passion-roughened voice. She smiled wickedly and spread her legs, pleased at the purring growl her action elicited from Angelus, and thrilled that his hard shaft seemed to jump with interest, growing, if possible, even larger and thicker at her wanton actions.

"What, this tight, wet pussy?" she drawled, forcing herself to look away from his gorgeous cock and into his smoldering and no less gorgeous deep brown eyes. Holding his gaze, she deliberately let her fingers delve into her sweetness. "Mmmmm." she said as her fingers lazily slid in and out easing her hunger the tiniest bit. "You forgot ‘hot.’"

"Believe me, lover, I didn’t forget a thing," Angelus growled, smirking. "Get it over here!"

She smiled seductively. Yes, she was in need of him, but clearly he was in just as much need. He’d captured her, enslaved her, and for the past week had forced her to yield to his will again and again. She couldn’t resist taunting him, asserting herself once more. She stabbed her fingers more deeply inside herself, shuddering at the delicious sensations. "Are you sure you don’t want to watch me come first?" she said throatily.

Angelus let his gaze drift over his delectable lover’s body, and watched her tiny fingers, wet and slick with her dew, as she sought to ease the burning inside her. If he hadn’t spent the past half-hour nursing his hard-on while he watched her reach a number of orgasms induced by erotic dreams, he would have been delighted to let her give him another show. But, as things were, he preferred to be a participant rather than an onlooker.

"Not that the idea doesn’t have it’s appeal, darling, but are you sure you want your fingers inside you when you could have my whole cock?" he returned.

"Good point," she said, pulling her hand away with a shiver as she voluntarily thwarted her own orgasm in order to enjoy what would surely be an even better one with her mate. She slid gracefully from the bed to go to him.

Angelus felt himself getting harder as she approached, if that were possible. There was just something about this girl, this slayer, his prisoner, his mate. Something that enticed him, seduced him, addicted him to her sun-kissed flesh and her sunlight colored hair. She had been put on earth to destroy his kind, just as his very nature demanded that he prey upon and devour hers. And yet, watching her come toward him with that slow and sensuous walk, her hips swaying enticingly, her rosy nipples stiff little points of sweetness begging for his attention, the commingled fluids of their bodies sliding down the smooth skin of her thighs, he was filled with both possessive pride and consuming lust. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything in life or unlife.

And she was his for the taking.

As soon as she was near enough, he reached for her, pulling her onto his lap and drawing her into an openmouthed kiss. Buffy reveled in Angelus’ touch, the way his large, strong hands worshipfully traced over her body, supplicants at the altar of her flesh. Every caress was delicate, deliberate, delectable, geared towards arousing her further, until she was mindless with want for him.

A point she had reached quite some time earlier. Buffy arched into those skilled hands, tangling her fingers into his hair and returning his kiss. She was straddling him, and in a moment, she slid one of her little hands down over the marble-cold perfection of strong neck, broad chest and flat belly, finally joining his hand on the cock rampant between them. Angelus groaned as she tightened her talented fingers around his iron hard arousal He drew his own hand away, cupping the back of her head as he deepened their kiss, letting her play with his manhood for a few exquisite moments. He particularly liked it when she released him only to draw her nails lightly down the sensitive flesh, scoring trails of fire along his shaft. He moaned into her mouth. Oh, yes, her lessons in pleasure and pain were coming along as perfectly as any vampire could hope. He broke the kiss.

"Put it in you, babe." he demanded. Buffy felt another gush of moisture leak from her body at his words and instantly complied, lifting herself and drawing his steely hardness to the haven of her damp core. He groaned again, matching her breathy gasp of pleasure. The lessons in obedience were coming along nicely, too, he thought. Angelus favored his beautiful lover with a few more deep kisses as he reached for the hand that had delved into her pussy. He broke their kisses to lift her fingers to his mouth and lick them clean. She whimpered, burying her head against his neck even as her hips set a languorous pace engulfing and releasing his hungry cock.

"Delicious," he purred, sucking each remnant of her sticky sweetness, of their mingled essences, from her little fingers. "You taste and smell so damned delicious," he told her before devouring her mouth with more kisses. His words were almost like another caress, stoking the flames of her lust. She decided to return them in kind.

"Ummm," she purred back. "Good enough to eat?" she said against his mouth. "Because I love it when you suck my clit into your mouth and lick me," she said throatily between kisses. "Love it when you tongue me, when you blunt your teeth and bite down, just hard enough."

"What?" he quipped, hiding the fact that her words had pushed him to the limit of his control. "No fang?"

"That too," she whispered in his ear. "But I like it best when you’re inside me, like this. Filling me, stretching me, making me feel so damned good."

"Do you like it when I bite you, little girl?" he growled, completely unable to keep himself from sliding into game face at the erotic images her words raised in his mind as his control slid that much further to the edge.

Buffy looked full into his face, his true face, and gave him a slow, sensuous smile. She locked his yellow eyed gaze with a molten look of her own, and cupped his face in her hands.

"Oh, lover, I more than like it when you bite," she said huskily and brought his face down to hers. Then delicately, slowly, as if they had all the time in the world, she pressed lingering kisses to his ridged brow, along the distorted skin of his temples and cheek, down to his fanged mouth. Buffy deliberately slid her tongue along a fang in such a way as to raise drops of her sweet, rich Slayer’s blood and she tangled her tongue with his, letting him enjoy the taste of her. It wasn’t enough to further debilitate her, or rouse his blood hunger, but it more than sufficed to spice their lovemaking. He felt himself swell further inside her, felt her respond by clamping down hard, fluttering those amazing muscles of hers in the most exquisite embrace. He settled his hands on her hips, lifting her a bit higher than her rhythm was taking her, and pulling her down hard. She gasped as he drove himself that tiny bit further inside her. Buffy broke their kiss with a groan, panting, and leaning back in his arms, her hips churning down on his. He took advantage of her new position to dip his head and take a lush nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his sharp fangs. To judge by Buffy’s cooing gasps and the pistoning rhythm of her hips, she liked that. He treated her other breast similarly, and, while keeping one hand on her hips, lifted the other to her mouth. Buffy needed no instructions, merely suckled on the offered fingers, swirling her tongue around them as if she were nursing on his cock. When she’d gotten them nice and wet, he withdrew them, and offered her hips another caress before sliding his hand around to the full globes of her ass, moving beautifully as she moved on his hard cock.

Angel slipped the wet fingers between the crack of her succulent ass, and pushed first one, then the other, into the tight little opening.

"Yesssssss!" Buffy hissed as he began to pump them into her slowly, the rhythm counterpointing the one she was using, so that as she lifted herself off his cock, his fingers slid more deeply into her ass, and as these withdrew, his cock returned to fill her clenching womanhood.

There was no hurry. Dawn was still a few hours away and they would not be leaving the island until the evening tide. Angelus felt like he could keep her this way for hours, building her slowly to a ravishing peak, never quite letting her reach it, building her up again. The longer he delayed her climax, the harder it would be when he let her reach it, and the harder it was for her, the more strongly she would grind down on his cock, the more explosive his own release would be. Generally speaking, Angelus wasn’t much for win/win situations. He preferred win/lose, with himself as the undoubted winner. But, when it came to bedding Buffy, he was only too happy to make an exception.

But, as it turned out, it was his own patience that gave way after a mere half-hour.

Buffy was using her internal muscles, rippling them around his shaft in the way she was learning to do. She was a quick study, and Angelus actually wished, for one moment, that the Crucimentium drugs were completely out of her system, and that she had even greater control than she did now. Sanity quickly reasserted itself. She was playing nicely, very nicely indeed, but he didn’t delude himself that she had completely given herself over to him. She was still the Slayer and he was certain she would take the first opportunity to escape him.

Eventually, he would be sure of her, when she came to understand that the humanity she had sacrificed so much to save wasn’t worth breaking one of her dainty nails over and that the world into which he would bring her was the one in which she truly belonged. In time he would wean her off the drugs and allow her full strength to return. The mere thought of the ride she would give him then almost did it for him, almost had him spilling inside her. But, he retained just enough control to avoid that.

Still, he decided against waiting any longer, and began to set about building Buffy up one final time. Angelus dragged his mouth across her body, sucking in warm mouthfuls of flesh, laving it with his tongue. A third finger joined the others in her ass, and he leant her back slightly further over his arm, allowing himself to go just a bit more deeply inside her.

Buffy whimpered, her legs coming up to lock tight around his waist. Her internal muscles were beginning to slip out of her control, heralding her imminent release. He didn’t touch her clit, but the moment he scraped one fang delicately across her nipple, just hard enough to draw a tiny bead of blood, she shattered around him.

The bead of her powerful blood sweet on his tongue as she shuddered in ecstasy brought him over, and he joined her in climax.

They clung together, shivering in rapture, only slowly returning to earth. Angelus held her tenderly, stroking her back soothingly, expecting her to fall back asleep. She surprised him when, instead of going entirely limp in his arms, she roused after a very few moments, kissed him deeply, and got off his lap.

"Come on," she said, holding out her little hand to him. He raised a brow.

"Come where?" he asked, curious.

She favored him with another come hither look and a provocative smile.

Intrigued, Angelus allowed Buffy to take his hand and lead him out of their apartment, down the stairs and off to the small dock where the motor boat was moored. Her mood was playful, flirtatious, sensuous. It was not a mood he was disposed to alter.

She had disdained a bathing suit, pausing only long enough to pick a dress at random from the closet. Her hand fell on a scrap of black silk, which she slipped over her naked form before coaxing him out into the night. She was barefoot, as well, and watching the silk of her dress slide over the delicious curves beneath, he wondered what she intended. She played the seductress as if born to the role, but to what purpose?

"Do you know the way to the beach?" she asked, interrupting his train of thought, steadying herself on his arm as she climbed into the boat.

"Yes. Mai discussed all her arrangements with me. I know where the cove is," he said as he followed Buffy aboard, and quickly cast off.

"Good," she said with a contented sigh as she settled back in the boat. "Then I won’t have to navigate." Her voice was husky with exhaustion, her eyes half closed. He imagined she’d be asleep in a matter of moments. And that, as the lamia venom continued to burn its way through her system, she would rouse again, soon enough.

"Don’t worry, babe," he drawled. "You’re in good hands." That got a giggle.

"Uh-uhh." she disagreed. "I’m in very, very bad hands. Absolutely wicked."

"Absolutely," he smirked, moving them away from the dock.

"Ummmmm," Buffy purred. "I love your hands. So big and elegant, so strong." She accompanied her words with a surprisingly erotic gesture, letting her own hands run slowly over her soft curves. "You’re like steel, lover, hot, hard steel wrapped in velvet, smooth against my skin." Her hands drifted over her breasts, and he watched her nipples harden in arousal. He’d been hard from the moment she’d made her suggestion, but he enjoyed the patience of one who has illimitable amounts of time at his disposal, and was content, for the moment, to do no more than watch. "I love the feel of your hands on me," Buffy said again. But her eyelids were fluttering down as she spoke, and those were her last words before sleep took her.

As he steered them down the river to the private beach, Angelus contemplated his sleeping captive, if such he could still claim her to be. She had stopped struggling against him, had accepted, with delicious enthusiasm, her place in his bed. Or so it seemed on the surface. But had she truly accepted it, accepted him? More importantly, would she accept her place in his life, and the role he wanted her to play in it?

Moonlight spilled down over the river, into their boat, glinting silver in Buffy’s blonde hair, fading the golden tint of her skin to milky paleness. Just so would she look as a vampire: lustrous as a pearl, delicate, graceful and rare. Buffy was, he thought with no little pride, surpassingly beautiful, a captive to treasure, a mate to be adored. The question before him was, how deep did her seeming capitulation run? Was she as content as she seemed, or was she merely biding her time, seeking to disarm him, so that he would be unprepared when she finally made her move to escape? He was certain it was the latter. Mai had reported to him each time Buffy had tested the limits of the magical restraints the lamia had placed upon her. He knew about Buffy’s attempt to place a phone call, to walk out of the hotel where she and Mai were having lunch, to swim out of the cove, leave the estate where they’d gone for their luau. It was pleasant to imagine that she had finally come to understand how completely she belonged to him, but Angelus neither believed that she had reached that point yet, nor doubted his ability to ultimately make her come to that understanding. He suspected that, for the moment, his clever minx was playing a Slayer’s game of deception and surprise. He was inclined to let her have at it. Whenever she got around to attempting her escape, she would be doomed to disappointment, of course. Angelus, Scourge of Europe, was not a vampire to be caught napping. He would always be three moves ahead of her, whatever the game.

If her seductive playfulness were an attempt to get him to lower his guard, he was quite charmed by the manner in which she’d chosen to reassure him of her complacency. He planned on letting her continue to offer all the reassurances she wanted to make.

Soon enough her would have what he wanted from her. Buffy would not merely accept her place in his life, she would come to enjoy it, relish it, revel in it. She would come to adore his possession of her, come to understand that only when she admitted she belonged to him, to Angelus, would she be free to be the Buffy she was born to be. Not some bitch Slayer running at the end of the Council of Watcher’s leash, but a goddess of strength and power, at whose lightest footsteps the world would tremble, and at whose altar of beauty men and demons both would abase themselves. A goddess who belonged always, only, and eternally, to him. If she had not yet reached that realization, she would in time. He would allow no other outcome

His thoughts continued to run along those lines as the made the short trip to the cove. After he secured the boat, he considered waiting for Buffy to wake up, but instead stooped to pick her up in his arms. She nestled against him, still sleeping, as he lifted her out and carried her ashore.

Mai had told him that she’d had Robert put up a tent pavilion, set well above the high tide line. Angelus made for that now. He lay her down on the cool sand and stretched out beside her, content, for the moment to watch her sleep. Soon enough her eyes fluttered open once more. Finding him looking down on her, she favored him with a dazzling smile.

"You shouldn’t have let me sleep," she said, stretching languorously before sitting up beside him.

"Shouldn’t I?"

"Uh-uhh. I don’t want to waste a minute of the moonlight." She leaned forward to kiss him, a soft brush of her lips against his own. He was surprised, pleasantly so, by her continued aggression. Her lips explored his with a sensuous tenderness he had never indulged. His were not gentle passions. Gentleness was a weakness of the soul’s, never that of Angelus. But he allowed this unwonted tenderness because she wished it, and for the moment, it amused him to see her wishes fulfilled. He wondered where she would take this.

At first, she seemed content with a slow exploration, her lips learning his own in a way that was new to them. Her little tongue came out to play. Licking. Tasting. Caressing. But soon enough the lamia venom burning in her veins sparked to life the fire that never quite burned out between them, and soon enough she was wrapped in his arms, her blunt little teeth nipping at his mouth. With a growl, Angelus fell back on the sand, pulling her over him. She writhed against him, rubbing her Venus mont along his achingly hard length.

Angelus lost no time in lowering his zipper and ridding her of her dress. Both garments were tossed aside as he pulled her forward and settled her on his shaft. Buffy threw her head back in pleasure as she slid down on him, engulfing his manhood in her hungry core. She was insatiable for him, and yet their mating lacked urgency. The pace she set was slow and unhurried, nor did he try to force her to a more demanding rhythm.

"Put your hands on me," she whispered, regarding him through slumberous eyes.

"Where?" he asked sliding his hands slowly up her thighs to her firm ass and higher to the small of her back.

"Everywhere," she moaned as he brought his hands forward over the curve of her belly then slid them up her rib cage to her full breasts. "Yes," she hissed encouragingly, covering his hands with her own to keep them at her breasts. He filled his hands with the plump mounds, loving the feel of the sweet flesh as he gently squeezed the delectable weight.

Moonlight spilled over his lover, silvering her body as she rose and fell above him. Beneath the moon and burning stars there was no sound but the pounding surf and Buffy’s breathy gasps of need. Slow and unhurried as they were, Angelus found himself soon enough approaching his crisis.

"Buffy," he groaned.

"More," she whispered, leaning forward, caressing down the length of his arms until she had braced herself on his shoulders. The slight change in angle allowed her greater control and momentum. He watched, fascinated, as her beautiful face was transfigured by a look almost of agony as she struggled toward orgasm. Her lips were parted as she gasped for breath, her eyes shut tight as she matched his steady driving rhythm. Finally, as his climax neared, Angelus reached for her clit, gently twisting the tender nub. Buffy’s eyes flew open.

"Angelus!" she sobbed as her body shuddered into rapture and she shattered around him. He held onto his own control until she finished, collapsing against him in exhaustion. He quickly rolled her onto her back, stretching her arms above her head, his hands clamping her wrists to the sand. Spent, she made no move to resist, but acceded to his will. His mouth found a nipple and he suckled it greedily as he slid deeper inside her. He brought her to orgasm twice more before letting himself release into her quaking depths.

"Mine," he growled.

"Always," she whispered back, lifting her face for his kiss.

She had never been more beautiful to his eyes than she was at the moment, bathed in moonlight, and for one moment, she was in mortal danger, as the urge assailed him to turn her, here, now, and keep her his beautiful moonlit goddess for eternity. The moment passed. He wasn’t quite ready to lose her warmth and the seductive beat of her heart. Angelus bent his head and kissed her.

After a moment he rolled to her side, relaxed. Buffy rested beside him for briefly, then surprised him again by getting up once more, and reaching a hand down to him. Once again, he allowed himself to follow where she led. Buffy walked the few yards to the surf.

"It’s so beautiful in the moonlight," she sighed looking at the water.

"Yes, it is," he agreed, his gaze fixed upon her.

Buffy smiled at him, and skipped forward, to meet the incoming wave as it died upon the shore. "The water is still warm," she murmured approvingly, and ventured farther.

He went with her, and shortly they were swimming out to the end of the cove. Her dolphin friends were not to be found, but Angelus made sure she did not lack for amusements. He sat her on the smooth, moss covered ledge of a rock, and made long, slow love to her while the surf pounded against them and the tide began to recede. They swam back toward shore, but when they were close enough that she could stand without the surf coming above her breast bone, he stood her up and took her from behind, the water allowing her to float at a most convenient angle. They returned to the pavilion and gathered their clothing against the chill of the night air, and walked along the beach as she gathered a few shells that caught her attention, glimmering in the starlight. And their clothes were ruined as he pulled her down with him to the surf, making love to her as the waves rippled against their bodies.

Dawn was little more than an hour off when exhaustion claimed her once more, and he carried her to the boat, taking them back to their retreat. She didn’t wake for the trip, or later, for the warm bath he shared with her, cleaning the salt and sand from their skins, not even when he brought her up the stairs to the apartment, or down the hall to the bathroom, or lay her sleeping form on the floor as he drew a warm bath for them. Even when he dried her vigorously with one of the large bath sheets, Buffy remained blissfully unconscious. Angelus carried his sleeping lover back to their bed, where he found an envelope, addressed to him in Mai’s flowing script, propped against his pillow. Angelus settled Buffy beneath the covers, before attending to the note.

Mai assured her lord that she waited upon his convenience, and would be ready to receive him at any hour he chose to return. There were some details regarding the continuation of Angelus’ journey to the east that she wished to impart to him, and a contract with Wulf that required his signature. Angelus looked down once more at his sleeping mate. The intervals between sleep and wakefulness were getting longer for her, and he suspected she would not miss him for the best part of an hour. He pocketed Mai’s note and left the apartments.

As she had promised, the lamia was awaiting his orders. She presented him with the contract. Angelus raised his brows in appreciation of one subtle clause that awarded him control of Wulf’s most important properties should the older vampire ever attempt to break their contract.

"Did he read this before he signed it?" Angelus wondered, aloud.

"Certainly," Mai informed him. "Although his attention may have been elsewhere." Angelus grinned wickedly, imaging the sorts of things Mai might have done that would have fixed Wulf’s attention on something other than business. The vampire might have been considerably his elder, but he was a damned fool if he’d let even so enticing a prospect as Mai divert him. Angelus signed the document and returned it to the lamia. She then explained the change in the ship’s course.

"The China Sea?" Angelus said thoughtfully as he sipped the brandy Mai handed him.

"It will add a few days to your trip," she said carefully, "and I cannot recommend it."

"But Wulf believes I can increase my profit margin for this trip if I pick up the cargo?"

"So he has said," Mai frowned. "I am not certain I believe him."

"Then I am ahead of you, my dear. I am certain I do not."

"So, you will hold to your original course?" she said with seeming relief.

"Not at all. I want to see just how far Wulf is willing to push things,"

"My lord," Mai began worriedly. Angelus cut her off and issued a few orders regarding what was to be taken aboard the ship before they sailed on the evening tide. Mai raised a brow, but reluctantly concurred that the precautions might be enough to thwart whatever plans Wulf would prove to have.

"Is there aught else I may provide, my lord?" she inquired. Angelus was about to tell her there was not, but stopped as another thought occurred to him. He remembered something Buffy had said earlier in the heat of passion, and barked a question at Mai. She blanched.

"Yes, my lord. Such sorceries indeed exist, but they are difficult to perform."

"But you can give me the spell that I require?"

"My lord’s pleasure is my own," she said. "I will arrange to have the artifact you need, and the binding spells, delivered to the ship.

"Good," Angelus said, tossing off the rest of his brandy before taking his leave of Mai and returning to Buffy.

She remained asleep, and Angelus quickly stripped off his pants to slide beneath the covers next to her.

The demon in him was sated, his blood lust damped down. The lamia venom he’d ingested with Buffy’s blood did not leave him unaffected, and, because it amused him, he decided to see how far he could get in making love to Buffy before she woke.

She had curled on her side, so he exercised great delicacy in slowly shifting her until she lay on her back. Then he slid deeper beneath the covers, gently coaxing her legs apart until they were wide enough to accommodate his shoulders. He settled himself down to feast.

She was damp from the bath, her skin tasting faintly of vanilla as he licked her pouting outer lips. A soft sigh escaped her, and she lifted her hips toward his teasing mouth, but she did not wake.

He took his time, running his tongue slowly along her cleft, and up toward the precious pearl of her clit, which he teased from beneath its protective hood. Slowly, gently, not wishing to wake her, he tasted and teased, savoring each least taste of her. He could tell by the changing rhythm of her breathing, the racing of her heart, when she was getting close to pleasure and he shifted once more, covering her, and settling himself between her thighs. He pushed inside her slowly, gratified to feel the rippling wet heat of her surround him. And still she did not wake. He came to rest inside her, and paused, staring down at her sleeping beauty. A moment later he eased himself out, and thrust as slowly back in.

In other circumstances, Angelus might have taken his time, made love to her for hours, but the night had been long and dawn was upon them. He gently fingered her clit, adding just the right amount of stimulation. In a very few minutes, he brought her to a gentle climax. Her eyes fluttered open. "Angelus!" She breathed his name once more, and he bent to her lips, kissing his name from them, stealing the honey breath of her gasped orgasm and letting himself come apart in her arms. He sustained her orgasm for several sharp, exquisite moments, after which exhaustion dragged her back beneath the waves of consciousness once more.

Pleased with himself, with his plans, with his precautions, and far more pleased with her, Angelus finally allowed himself to fall asleep in her arms.