Edges

Disclaimer: I do not own Angel, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, nor the characters and concepts
devised by Joss Whedon. They are owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy Productions, and 20^th
Century Fox. However, Joss does own my soul.

Rating: NC-17 for sexual situations, language, violence, and adult content. Also contains
character death and hints of torture.

Pairing: Buffy/Angelus

Summery: Angelus is loose and bakes a pie. Dominance games are played. Things are proved
and smut insures.

Author's Notes: This is my entry for my Angel Fic-A-Thon Assignment. Full details will be at
the end of the fic.

Edges

By: Elf

"You're different."

A smirk graced sensual lips as long legs encased in thick leather casually crossed themselves as
large hands folded behind a dark head.

"I'm fr"

The former God King's head tilted questioningly as those electric blue eyes flashed over the oddly
graceful being sitting in the plush leather chair with his legs carelessly propped on his desk. The
body was the same, yes, but there were lots of noticeable differences. The clothing for one.

Shining black silk adorned broad shoulders fit for a king. Tight leather pants graced those long
powerful legs. Lying beside him was a fine, flowing black coat.

His whole barring was another.

He had walked into the room with a slow, lethal grace as if he owned it. His shoulders were
proudly thrown back and his head was held high, unlike his former slouched posture to make
himself seem smaller among the pathetic dying creatures all around him. Right now he was
leaning back in his throne with his legs propped on the table, showing himself off for the glorious
creature he was.

Oddly, Illyria felt peculiarly insecure when he walked into the room.

Illyria tilted her head again and asked, "What do you mean by free? I do not understand. You are
different though. Powerful."

"A threat to the All High and Mighty Illyria? You bet your sweet blue ass on that, sweetheart,"
He replied in an arrogant, almost purring tone.

A flicker of anger lit Illyria as she looked at the transformed being before her. Black, almost
soulless eyes flickered over her taken form. A lopsided grin spread itself over those oddly
attractive lips.

Illyria retorted, "A half breed could not be a threat to me."

"I'm a threat to everyone, Your Highness." The Your Highness was thick with disrespectful
scorn and amusement. Illyria felt her ire rising even more.

Illyria snorted, "In my day, you would have been taken out and tortured for all of our amusement
just by looking at me the way you are. Your entrails would have been . . ."

"Pulled out like a sadistic May Poll for all of you and your little demon buddies to dance around.
You know what, Illy, it doesn't matter. Your day is over. Has been for a fucking long time.
You're nothing. Washed up. A Has Been. You're like New Kids on the Block. Or the Beatles.
No one gives a flying fuck anymore. Someone better showed up. Your religion's dead,
sweetheart," he retorted cheerfully.

Illyria drew in a sharp breath as she glared at the insolent worm. "I should kill you for the manner
in which you speak to me."

"I get that a lot. Take a number, step in line. Or, even better, I should kill you!"

Illyria moved to react, but it was too late.

The sword was imbedded in her breast and the red fluid that kept her borrowed body alive trickled
down its silver length. She felt odd and it strangely hurt. She also felt cold and remembered that
feeling from years before.

Those black eyes bore into her as he smirked.

"Poor Wes. First Fred and now you. And he never got to fuck you. No wonder he's gone
crazy," the vampire taunted sadistically as he wrenched the katana from her chest, sending more
of her blood spraying out.

Angelus smirked as Illyria's bodyl tol to the ground.

He walked over to her and brought the katana down against her neck. He kicked her blue head
away with a satisfied grin. "God she was annoying . . ."

He sat back down at his desk and called Harmony.

Her annoying saccharine voice chirped, "What is it, Boss?"

"Send Wesley down here. There's something about Illyria I found that I want to show him."

******

Buffy's hands were trembling as she replaced the phone in its cradle. Various letters were strewn
across her desk. Various issues of the L.A. Times littered the floor in her office.

The phone call was the wake up call.

She felt she she was going to vomit. She was shaking with fear and terror. Feelings that she
really hadn't felt in a long time.

And humming with anticipation.

That anticipation made it worse. Made her hate herself. The dark corner of herself that allowed
her to do what she had done with Spike. The dark corner that still yearned for that taste again.

The taste of something unfinished and yet always hinted at.

Angelus . . .

He was lose. Free. With the resources of Wolfram and Hart at his fingertips and using it.

He was chaos incarnate. He existed simply to bring upon misery and death. He made it an art
form. He was terrifying in his complexity and horrifying in his simplicity.

And he was free.

Buffy picked up the phone again. She hit the speed dial.

"This had better be good for calling me in four in the fucking morning . . ." Faith's irritated voice
growled over the other line.

Buffy sighed and replied, "Faith, it's me."

"What is it, B?" Faith asked, her voice softening slightly.

Buffy answered, "Angel . . . I mean Angelus. He's back. And he's got Wolfram and Hart. Spike
called me . . . He said that Angelus wants me in L.A. or he's gonna attack my girls."

"B, there's no way in hell that he could do that. I mean, they're Slayers. Sure, Wolfram and Hart
suppose to have all this wicked mojo, but we can call Willow. Just chill, B," Faith said
soothingly, as if she was trying not to believe what Buffy told her.

Buffy spat, "I can't just chill, Faith. Our girls are in danger. He will come here and . . . And it'll
be fun to him Faith. Slayers or not, he'll do it. You fought him, you know."

"And I was in his head. I know better than you do, B. Besides, Spike and Wes are there too,"
Faith replied reassuringly. Her words held no comfort to the Slayer, not after that phone call.

Buffy whispered, "He has Spike. And he's torturing him until I come there."

"Ah . . . But it's Spike. We can get Willow to do the curse right and stick the soul for good. You
can be baked," Faith offered.

Buffy sighed and replied, "I wish . . . But that doesn't matter. I need to help Spike."

******

"You won't keep me here forever."

As usual, Spike was smirked at while he said this too familiar taunt. Angelus lifted his eyebrows
and looked Spike's prone form over. Spike twisted in the thick manacles that held him helpless.
His ankles were even shackled to the stone wall.

Wolfram and Hart had their own torture chamber. Actually, they had several. This one was just
the most "authentic" complete with cold, damp stone walls and iron bars over the windows.
There was even an Iron Maiden in the corner.

Angelus retorted, "Now, why the hell would I want to, Spike?"

Spike blinked. The retort was different than the ones days before. Spike replied, "Well, because
that's what you do, Peaches. You're evil now, remember? I'm the bloody good guy."

"You know, that's really ironic hearing that from you," Angelus drawled as he picked up a pair of
pincers and placed them in the old-fashioned iron furnace in the center of the room. The glow
cast hellish lights on that all too familiar and hated face.

"From what I heard, you got a soul to get into Buffy's pants. A lot of good that did you. You
were doing better evil and neutered."

A muscle in Spike's jaw twitched. He strained in his bondage again, his aching body protesting
with each movement. Blood trickled from fresh wounds as old ones ached, yet he still struggled.
He wasn't going to give the wanker the satisfaction of giving up.

"Sod off," Spike growled between clinched teeth.

Angelus chuckled and crowed, "It feels so good to hear you say that to me! God, I was getting so
tired of you. And working with you . . . I'd puke if I were able. Now, where were we? Yes, the
pincers. They're almost warm enough. Wouldn't want you to get cold."

"That's the difference between me and you, mate. At least I feel," Spike taunted defiantly.

Angelus snorted, "What? Pain? Been there, done that, and deja vu isn't what it use to be. I really
should thank Eve you know. But it was just so much fun to snap those skinny little legs before
draining her." He paused thoughtfully, "I don't know what Lindsey saw in her though. She was
kinda bitter. He was better pinning after Darla."

Spike swallowed. Eve. The little bint was the reason why the Big Bad was lose and craving
carnage. She thought she could get her immortality back from the Senior Partners by stealing
Angel's soul away from him. Instead, it just got her killed quicker.

Silly trollop.

"Whatever. Are you gonna torture me or gloat all day? I thought you had virgins to rape and
babies to eat? I don't have all bloody day ynow,now," Spike snapped.

Angelus wagged his finger disapproving as he chided, "Ah, Spike . . . I haven't told you the good
news yet."

"Wesley and Lindsey are gonna stake your bloated arse?" Spike asked hopefully, "Because I'd
really like to see that. If they do chase you around this place like a little girl, lead them here, will
you?"

Angelus laughed and walked over and patted Spike's cheek roughly. Right over a nasty Holy
Water burn. Spike growled defensively and Angel smirked as he put his face inches from his.
Close enough to kiss. Spike hoped that he wouldn't. That sort of torture would send him right
over the edge.

Angelus answered, "Buffy's coming to visit."

Spike's eyes widened hopefully. Buffy was coming. His Slayer. Angelus couldn't hope to stand
up against her. He tried to break her once and she'd kicked his ass to Hell.

He laughed, "Oh, now you're gonna get you ass kicked. Wouldn't wanna be in your shoes."

"No. I'm gonna offer her a trade," Angelus whispered in Spike's ear before pushing away from
him.

Spike's eyes widened with horror as Angelus walked back to the furnace.

He knew what the trade was.

And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"You know, I think I'll bake her a pie . . ." Angelus mused as he pulled out the pincers from the
furnace. The iron tips were the color of glowing rubies. The same color as hellfire.

Spike couldn't help the scream that tore from his lips as the pincers descended towards his
mangled flesh.

******

The place was like a tomb. There were ashes and dead bodies everywhere. Someone had taken
care to put the corpses at their desks as if they were still working diligently for their misguided
CEO.

It was artistic in a sadistic sort of way.

Buffy fought a wave of revolution.

The Mayor. The Master. Adam. Glory. Dark Willow. The Gentlemen. The First.

She could deal with them. They wsepaseparate from her. She knew her purpose then. To be the
hero and kick their assess back to the Hell they crawled out from with a few well placed witty
quips.

Angelus was something else.

She knew the difference between him and Angel, and it wasn't just the leather pants. (God, but
they were sexy . . . Those Legs and he didn't wear underwear with them and he was hung like a
horse . It It was the eyes, the voice, the bearing, the gestures, the stance, just everything that
could be different was. Angelus stood tall and haughty while Angel slumped so he could look at
people better without belittling them.

Still there was a part of her that just wanted to . . .

Scream and want and moan as he took her. Cold fangs penetrating as he filled and thrust into
her. Hot blood welling up as liquid heat gripped his dead hardness.

He would be hard and fast and he'd understand. He'd do things to her that she just dreamed
about. He would bring out that Dark Side and she would scream.

She needed to scream.

Buffy took a deep breath and clutched her Scythe. Butterflies were fluttering in her stomach. She
reasoned she was lucky that the place didn't sink and the bodies weren't rotting. She hated to
think of the magic incorporated to keep it like it was.

She realized she would have felt better if the bodies weren't so crisp and precise with their
pantomime of life. There was obvious care in the arrangement. She almost screamed when she
saw the demon with his head held on to his neck by a thick scarf and that he was standing. He
was being supported by almost invisible wires and holding a stack of folders.

She walked over to the demon and hefted her Scythe. She struck the wires and the demon's
corpse fell to the ground. Papers fluttered everywhere, lending some chaos into the artistic
fectfection, shattering that sadistic illusion. Buffy took a deep breath and turned from the body.

The Slayer continued to walk, her senses on alert for her lover's body.

******

Buffy smelled cinnamon and apples.

It was a homey, comforting scent that was at total odds with the carnage around her. She took
another sniff and recognized the scent of someone baking pie. Joyce had only baked two apple
pies that Buffy could remember. The majority of their deserts had been store bought and already
prepared for the most part.

Who the hell would be baking a pie at a time like this?

Buffy had made it to the penthouse, which was an apartment. There was a large master bedroom,
a really nifty bathroom complete with a sauna and whirlpool tub, a large high definition TV, and a
kitchenette. Which she had just approached.

Standing there, with his back turned to her, was Angel.

No, correction, it was Angelus.

He was humming something that was probably classical because Buffy didn't recognize it. She
heard the faint smacking sound of something being cut. Something that wasn\oft oft and fleshy,
thank God.

"Hello, Buff," he said in that patronizing voice, not even turning to look at her.

Buffy replied, "I knew this was a bad idea. I should have done something, you know, before you
came out again."

"What? Talk Broody Boy out of taking Wolfram and Hart, sweetie? I don't think so," Angelus
purred as he fin tur turned to look at her.

Buffy stiffened when those black eyes flickered over her. He was wearing the leather pants, of
course, and a black silk shirt that seemed to shimmer on his form. He lifted an apple slice to his
lips and slowly bit it, his eyes never leaving her all the time.

He lifted another apple slice to his mobile, sculpted mouth. He gave her a smoldering look as he
flicked his tongue over it before slowly and delicately biting it. He licked his lips after he finished
eating in a languid movement before placing his large hands on the counter.

Buffy hated the effect he was having on her. Where the hell was the sadistic monster who
gleefully taunted her until she was in tears? Now she could have handled that. However, this
whole sexy Tonguing the Apple thing was throwing her off her guard.

Buffy asked, "Where's Spike?"

"He's roasting over an open fire," Angelus cheerfully answered as he turned around, wrapped a
towel around his hands, and opened the oven. Buffy watched as he pulled out a bubbling, golden
brown pie and set it on the counter. He smiled at her over the steam of the pie.

"Like a piece?" he asked playfully.

Buffy raised an eyebrow and snorted, "Um, no. Not really. Pie from an evil guy, nope, defiantly
not wanting a piece of that."

Angelus smirked and retorted, "I can think of a pie I want, and it's not apple."

"My God, that was really dirty," Buffy exclaimed, pointing her finger at the vampire.

Angelus continued to smirk as he taunted, "Really? I wasn't even trying there, Buffy. You
haven't even heard dirty yet." He dipped a finger into the pie and pulled it out. He gave her That
Look again as he suggestively sucked the apple filling from his fingers. If he had been human he
would have burned his finger. Well, Angel did have a really high tolerance of pain . . .

"Could you stop being a perv so I can kick your ass, save Spike, and Willow can give you your
soul back?" Buffy quipped as she gestured the Scythe at him.

Angelus picked up a butcher knife and began to slice into the pie. He mused, "You know, when
Angel calls for help about one of his people Giles bitches at him. However/EM>when someone gets
rid of Soul Boy you jump here like there's a sale at Nieman Marcus. What the fuck is with that?
Angel can't get help when he wants it, but when I don't need it you're breathing down my ass,
Buffy. Now, you tell me what the fuck is wrong with that picture?"

He now gestured at her with the knife.

Buffy swallowed and gripped the Scythe. It felt right and reassuring in her hands. However, the
weapon's basest function was killing. It wasn't a weapon for defense, but all out slaughter. And
she couldn't kill Angelus because that would kill Angel and she wouldn't have that.

She remembered Giles talking to Angel on the phone about someone, someone named Fred.
Angel needed Willow's help. However, Giles wouldn't contact Willow, stating that she was on a
Higher Plane. Buffy knew that it was difficult to get Willow out of meditation, but it could be
done.

And Wesley had told them that Fred had died only to have her body inhabited by one of the Old
Ones, a really nasty demon thing.

They hadn't heard from Wesley since that.

"You know Wes was in love with her. It was really pathetic to see him like that after what
happened. And Willow could have tried to help. Oh, well, doesn't matter. Illyria's dead now
and Wes has gone off the bend. Really off the bend. He's really loopy now, Buff, and you can
tell Giles that it's his fault. Oh, or better yet, let me. Ripper's really fun to tease," Angelus
continued with a smirk as he waved the knife pointedly at her.

Buffy protested, "We didn't know whether or not you were evil. I mean, you're running Evil
Grand Central here. So . . ."

"You assumed the worst and had your little rat boy throw it in Angel's face, huna?" Angelus
snorted with a dark glare filled with malicious glee, "It really hurt him to hear that from the little
punk. I really wanted to reach out and snap his neck just because he was so damned annoying.
But then again, you were always a bitch, Buff."

Buffy snapped, "Like you have room to talk. At least I was never a mass murderer."

"Depends on who you talk to, baby," Angelus retorted with another smirk as he edged the knife
around the pie, "You have the darkness in you and go ahead and deny it. It's fun to watch and
listen to you lie to yourself while I can smell it on your body. You'd really love to fuck me right
now, wouldn't you?"

Buffy glared and hated the blush that crept across her cheeks and the ache that was deep sated in
her body. She felt the Scythe in her hands, but it gave her no comfort this time. She proudly
tilted her chin up to look at him.

"In your dreams, loser," Buffy spat coldly, stepping closer to him.

Angelus flicked his tongue over the knife and licked the steaming pie filling from it. She wished
he'd look away. Wished he'd stop doing things to remind her exactly what he could do with that
tongue. Wished that she didn't want to jump over that counter, pin him to the refrigerator and
then fuck each other senseless.

"Where's Spike?" Buffy asked again, her voice as unyielding as steel. That's it Summers. Keep
your mind off him and those leather pants. Find Spike. Save Spike. Then get Angel back.

Angelus smirked as he gently laid the knife beside the pie. "I told you, he's simmering in his own
juices."

"Would you please stop the cooking metaphors? It's getting really confusing," Buffy quipped as
she rolled her eyes.

Angelus grinned and retorted, "But what was that and cookie dough?"

"How about I don't," Angelus purred as he stepped away from the counter and towards her.

Buffy taunted, "You'd better before I kick yass ass again. Cept this time I'm not some ditzy
seventeen year old. So go ahead, play your mind games. I'm ready for them. Take your best
shot."

Angelus smirked and replied, "En Garde, Buff."

Then he strode over to her in two large steps. She tilted her head back to look up at him. She had
forgotten how physically singsing he could be. He was almost twice as wide as she was and
almost a foot taller. His broad shoulders threatened to burst out of their black silk prison and she
wanted them too.

She wanted to rip those leather pants off of him and knock him down. She wanted to see the
monster stripped before her and writhing for her touch. Just has Spike had been. However, with
Spike there was no real danger, just the pretense of it. Here it was no game and it was life and
death.

Green eyes met soulless black and locked. Angel's eyes had been that chocolate brown, deep and
endlessly sad. Angelus' eyes were so dark they were almost black. Like the piece of Smokey
Quartz that Willow gave to Dawn, and just as hard and unrelenting.

Buffy wasn't quite sure how it happened, but she had his arms around his neck and he was lifting
her up.

The kiss was savage and intense, fueled by danger and darkness. Their teeth scraped against each
other as they tried to fuse each other at the mouth. His mouth was like cool silk and he tasted like
apples, cinnamon with a coppery hint of blood underneath it. She couldn't have enough, this
feeling of intensity, pleasure on the edge of pain, life flirting with death, darkness engulfing light.

Buffy wrapped her legs around Angelus' waist and rode him automatically. She felt him hard
through the thick leather and her jeans. She smirked as he broke the kiss and moaned against her
lips as she rode him, taunting and torturing.

She expected him to thrust her against the wall and take her, just as Spike had. However, just as
Angel and Spike were as different as night and day, so was Angelus. He didn't rush things, he
took his time and did things with an artistic, practiced flare. As if something worth doing wasn't
done right unless care was taken.

Buffy gasped as Angelus stroked her hair back from her face and slid one hand underneath her
blouse. Long, talented fingers toyed with the edge of her bra and danced over the curve of her
breast before lightly brushing against her covered nipple. He moved his hand to give the other
breast the same treatment.

She gasped and pressed her lips feverishly against his.

He chuckled, dark and decadent, against her lips. Buffy grabbed his head, rode him through the
leather, and claimed his mouth. She almost groaned in frustration as he kissed her back slowly
and easily. Almost gently damned him, as if he was Angel and not the Scourge of Europe.

He carried her to the penthouse's bed and gently laid her down on it. Buffy sat up to grab him,
but Angelus danced away from her hands with a teasing smile. "Anxious aren't we, Buff?" he
teased in that dark, bewitching voice that made her shiver.

Using her Slayer reflexes and strength, Buffy leapt off the bed, grabbed him by the front of his
shirt, spun around, and slung him on the bed. She straddled his waist and yanked her hands apart,
still holding the shirt. The silk tore in her hands, revealing the pale perfection of Angelus'
muscular, broad form.

The bastard was laughing at her.

The Slayer glared as she tore the shirt completely from his body and jerked the leather pants off as
well. He was still laughing, his head thrown back against the pillows and looking utterly
unaffected. Except that he was hard, thick and ready.

"You have no idea, lover," Buffy purred as she leveled her face to Angelus and gently took his
cool length in her small hand.

Angelus bit his lip and gave a tiny growl as he looked up at her. "Bitch," he accused as her
fingers danced over him.

Buffy smirked and lightly kissed his lips. "I'm stronger than you now. You're nothing to me as a
threat anymore. I've brought down the First. You might have been the Scourge of Europe, but
right now, you are mine."

"No, Buff, that's where your wrong," Angelus hissed as he grabbed her shoulders and used
leverage to roll her over. he whe was on top of her, huge and threatening. His pale, cool broad
body was pressed forcefully against hers to remind her exactly what she wanted.

"I was about to. You're still very impatient," Angelus chided before lowing his mouth to
savagely claim hers.

Buffy kissed him back with the same intensity as she wrapped her arms around him. She felt sick
for wanting this, but she couldn't help herself. She did have ak Sik Side deep down, and it had
been too long since she had released it.

Spike had been right, not that it mattered right now.

Angelus trailed his lips from hers down her throat. Her eyes widened as she felt a spike of fear
when he ran his cold tongue over the bite scar he had pl the there. She tensed and shut her eyes
as he scraped his blunt teeth against it.

"Remind me to find Dracula and kick his lame ass," he growled against her neck as he unbuttoned
her blouse, "The bastard always had a bad habit of taking women that weren't his."

Buffy gasped when the bra followed the blouse and his mouth laved the curves of her breasts
before deciding to fasten around her right nipple. "I'm not a piece of property, so stop being a
testosterone driven moron."

"I'm a vampire, Buffy. As Faith once told you: Want, Take, Have. And I plan to do that,"
Angelus promised as he switched to her neglected breast. She hissed as she held his head there,
digging her fingers into his scalp.

Buffy kicked off her boots impatiently as he trailed kisses down her stomach and stopping at the
waist line of her jeans. He slowly unzipped her jeans before pulling them down her legs and
throwing them to the floor. She clinched her eyes shut as his long fingers teased the edges of her
panties.

She hissed sharply when the first finger grazed against her heated flesh. She bit her lip as the
long, cold finger gently teased and fondled her delicate folds. She moaned as it danced against
the sensitive nub and began to stroke it with fairy light movements.

"Angel," Buffy moaned with a shudder as Angelus continued to tease her. He replaced his index
finger with his thumb as he suddenly shoved two fingers inside of her. She gasped and arched off
of the bed as he savagely thrust them in and out of her, any pretense of being gentle washed away
when she cried the wrong name.

Angelus whispered against her fiery mouth, "Angelus, Buff. Remember the difference, bec I
I
know you know better than anyone else."

"Angel," she whimpered again as her body began to tense.

Angelus nuzzled the curve of her throat to her ear. He whispered, "Angelus."

Buffy closed her eyes as her body quivered and tightened, heading towards that high point of
bliss. She bit her lip and arched up with each skilled caress and thrust of those talented, artist
fingers. Reality's edges started to blur around her as she sought completion.

Angelus chuckled with satisfaction as he eased her soaked panties down her legs. When she was
able to remember her name and wasn't floating in a blissful abyss anymore, Buffy opened her
eyes. Gasping for air, she looked up at Angelus smirking at her, a total male smirk of satisfaction
and dominance.

Angel had smiled gently at her, dark eyes full of love and concern when he did that. It had been
the first time anyone but herself had touched her. It had been full of wonder, magic, uncertainly,
giving, and love. Angel had been so gentle and slow, taking his time before they finally joined.

"So, did Spiker dor do that?" Angelus asked darkly as he slowly licked off his glistening fingers
and sucked suggestively on them.

Buffy fought for breath as she retorted, "Maybe. I don't kiss an tell, though, so you're just gonna
have to use your imagination."

"Spike was never much for the pre-show," Angelus snorted, "Never realized that the build up
could be better than the actual act itself."

Buffy smirked as she placed both her hands on Angelus' shoulders and twisted, spinning them
around and switching their positions. She straddled his waist and slowly rubbed against him.
Dark eyes fluttered shut as he threw his head back and groaned. She smirked as she repeated the
motion, eliciting another groan.

He reached for her waist, but she grabbed his hands.

She was stronger now. She had the power. The tables had turned. The mind games were over.
It wouldn't work anymore. And she was going to prove it.

Angelus growled as she pinned his arms above his head with her smaller hands. She smirked at
him. "Something wrong, lover?" she taunted as she grinded against him in a slow, hard
movement.

Angelus struggled and sneered, "Let me go, Buff. I will hurt you. Actually, I was pretty much
planning on it."

Buffy gave him a wicked left cross that reverberated in the room. "Um, no. You're not going to
do anything except what I say. And I think I want you to beg," Buffy explained in a thoughtful
sing-song voice.

"Never," Angelus snorted before spitting out a mouthful of blood.

Buffy lifted an eyebrow as she undulated against his aching hardness. She bit off a shudder and
he growled again, this time thrusting against her. Buffy slapped his cheek. "You're not playing
by the rules, Angel. Now, beg and I might fuck you till you can't move."

"Oh, so little Buffy thinks she can play games with the Big Boys, huna? Sorry, but I'm not Spike
and I won't lick your boots and promise you the moon. I'm gonna show you what a real monster
can do," Angelus taunted, eyes hardening to glittering black slits.

Buffy punched him yet again and snapped, "Wrong again! I mean, you can try, but remember I'm
stronger than you and your little mind games aren't going to work. I know all of your tricks and
I've grown up enough to know how to fight them. So, go head, Angel-boy, try."

Angelus growled at her. Buffy rubbed against him. drewdrew a sharp breath and involuntarily
thrust up with his hips again. His cool length rubbed teasingly against her heated flesh, but she
wasn't going to relent.

Not now and never again.

"Now, beg," Buffy demanded sharply.

Angelus glared up at her and hissed, "Please."

"Not the best beggibut but I guess it would do," Buffy mused before thrusting downward, slg
hg
him inside of her, joining them.

Slayer gasped as vampire hissed.

Buffy looked down at Angelus, who was looking up at her with his large and thick arms pinned
above his heaShe She felt him cold and hard within her, stretching and filling her like no other. It
was a feeling she had secretly missed but craved almost desperately.

She bent down and caught those soft, cold lips in a fierce kiss. Angelus returned the kiss with
even more ferocity than she had thought possible. She rocked against him and gasped, her eyes
widening. He growled and thrust up with the rocking motion.

Buffy cried out as he hit that secret place inside her. The one that made reality crystalize into
sensation. She rocked forward again and he thrust up. She saw white spots in her line of vision
as they repeated the process.

The movements became harder, more desperate.

Nothing mattered except sharp kisses, the pounding of hot flesh against cold muscle, and the
passionately intense dominance ritual between predator and prey.

And that was when Buffy made her mistake.

She let go of Angelus' wrists to grab fistfuls of his hair and to brace herself. He placed his hands
on her waist to hasten her pace. Everything was starting to tighten and blur again. She was
gasping and shaking with each movement.

Then, with a sharp twist, she was suddenly pushed against the bed and hammered there by the
force of Angelus' thrusts.

She cried out and arched against him. She rubbed her hand against his tattoo and tried to keep
from falling. He was looking down at her, smirking at her one moment before his face twisted in
that combination of pleasure and exertion.

Then, to her surprise, he changed.

His canines lengthened to those razor sharp, finely curved fangs. His dark eyes turned jewel
bright and golden, glowing in the dim light. The handsome face turned into something evil and
hungry.

Those fangs found their way home, to that secret spot on her throat. Her scar. Where Angel had
marked her. The scar she didn't know whether to cherish or be ashamed of.

Buffy screamed again as her body responded. She tightened around Angelus' length and
squeezed him. Her body shuddered and spasms over took her as she felt her blood flow into his
mouth. The fine line of pain and pleasure, life and death.

Except she wasn't going to cross it, just dance along it's edges.

She reached up and grabbed the head nuzzling at her throat and gave it a sharp twist. Golden eyes
widened as a cracking sound filled the room. Buffy lay under Angelus' prone body as she gasped
for breath. Then she shoved his heavy weight off of her and stood up.

She put her hand to the bite wound and winched. It actually didn't hurt that bad, just a sharp
sting. She looked down at her bloody fingers and snorted at Angelus' unconscious form.

Buffy walked to the telephone on the night stand and picked it up. There was a dial tone. She
called up Giles.

"Rupert Giles," Giles' familiar voice answered after the third ring.

Buffy grinned and replied, "Hey, Giles, is Willow ready for that spell?"<

<

The End!

Pairing (or none) (the pairing you would like written for you): B/A(us) or Darla/A(us) or both!

Genre You Prefer (no guarantees, but we'll do our best to oblige both reading and writing
preferences, ie. shippy, smut, darkfic,

slash, etc ): I'm good. I do likes me the smut, though. *g*

Requests (1 or 2) (one or two things you'd like in your story, ie: angst, a phrase, a character):
Angel (or Angelus *snerk*) baking a

pie from scratch.

Restrictions (1 or 2) (one or two things you would like not to be in your story, ie: no sex, no
mention of a character): I'm good.