after.midnight // v.naked
TITLE: Game of Chance
SUMMARY: Angelus has some fun planned for Buffy.
DISTRIBUTION: My page. Want it, mail me.
DISCLAIMER: Joss owns 'em. I don't.
As soon as he stepped in the Bronze her could feel her, the scent that
was uniquely hers invading his senses. Settling himself in a dark corner
he searched for her. The dance floor was crowded that night. The
gyrating bodies of hormonal teenagers pressed tightly against each
other, heat radiating from each one creating a sultry atmosphere.
And in the middle of all that heat was Buffy, her eyes closed as she
swayed in time with the beat of the music. His attention was focused
solely on her, his surroundings forgotten as he watched her. He was
hypnotized by the seductive movement of her body, every motion of her
swaying hips inciting a memory. With those thoughts clear in his head,
and a desire for her so strong it ached, his eyes continued their
journey of her body.
Her low cut red blouse revealed just a hint of cleavage, just enough to
strengthen his resolve to have her again. He could clearly recall the
softness of her breasts as he'd held them in his hands. He closed his
eyes, remembering the taste of her nipples as he laved them with his
tongue before taking them into his mouth and suckling them gently. He
remembered the smile of satisfaction on her face, the desire in her eyes
as she watched him feast from her breasts.
His eyes travelled farther down her body, taking in the tight black
skirt she wore. The leather clung to her body like a second skin and it
took every ounce of willpower he possesed not to march out to the floor and take her in full view of every patron in the club. Stifling his urges, he
forced his gaze to move over her thighs. Now encased in black nylon, he
could picture them as they were that night, bare and parted eagerly,
openly inviting him inside her body. Shaking his head to clear the image
of her legs wrapped tightly around him, he looked up to find the object
of his lust watching him in amusement.
Putting aside his lust for a more appropriate time, he sent her a smile
of his own, baring just a hint of fang before walking deeper into the
shadows of the club. He was aware when she stopped dancing, the smile
fading from her lips, and he knew that she would follow. Sure enough,
less than a minute later, she trailed him to the back rooms of the
"Come on, Angel," she called out, her eyes searching the darkness. "Let
the poor little girl go and deal with me." She was taken by surprise
when his hand reached out from the shadows and grabbed her arm, pulling her against his chest.
"Don't trust me, lover?" he asked with a mock frown, gesturing to the
stake she held in her hand.
He didn't wait for her response as he pulled her into an empty back
room. Closing the door behind them, he took her into his arms, ignoring
her protests as he fused his mouth with hers. She closed her lips
against the invasion of his tongue and he struggled to find a way to
make her open up to him. As he nibbled her lips, gently coaxing hers to obey, his hands cupped her buttocks, pulling her tight against his straining erection and she gasped in response. Taking advantage, he slipped his tongue inside her mouth, moaning as her tongue rose immediately to meet his. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer as he deepened the kiss.
"Unfortunately, the only poor little girl I'm seeking happens to be
you," he whispered against her lips when she pulled away to catch her
She pulled back, her eyes cold as she watched him. "And why are you
looking for me?" she asked, her voice cool. "What game are we playing
With a click of a switch a light went on, illuminating the center of the
room. As her eyes adjusted to the sudden absense of darkness, Buffy
turned to a huge, ancient slate pool table that dominated the room. Eyebrow raised in question, she turned back to Angel.
"You brought me back here to play pool?" she asked, confusion mixed with amusement in her voice. "What? Drusilla not as much fun as she used to be?"
Angel pulled away from the wall he'd been leaning against and walked
over to the table. Picking up the cues, he moved to hand one to Buffy.
"If I give you this, you're not going to try and ram it through me, are you?"
Reaching out, she grabbed the cue in her hand and smiled up at him. "Don't trust me, lover?" she quoted, tapping the wood against his chest.
He smiled but chose not to respond to her quip. Instead he set about
preparing the table. Buffy watched him, trying hard to ignore how good
he looked in those leather pants, as he racked up the balls. When he was
done, he picked up the cue and prepared to break, sending the balls
flying in different directions all over the table. Then he stepped back and turned to her, his eyes lit with merriment.
"Here's the game," he announced with a nod toward the table. "You've got
three chances to sink the eight ball. If you pocket it, you leave this
room alive and I leave you and your little friends alone. No more plots
to kill you. No more schemes to drive you mad."
"And if I don't?" she asked, pretty sure what the price would be.
"If you don't, I get you," he stated with a smile. "Whenever I want you.
Wherever I want you, without one word of protest." He watched her
carefully, gauging her reaction to his proposal. He smiled when she
glared at him, her distress at his proposition obvious. "Think you can
Tamping down her dismay, she nodded, accepting his challenge. "The
question is, can you?"
He shrugged nonchalantly and gestured toward the table. "Good luck."
As Angel leaned against the wall to watch, Buffy placed the cue ball
down and studied the table. The little black ball was sitting right next
to the right corner pocket, closely guarded by two other balls. She bent
over the table, lined up the cue, and took aim.
"I was thinking about you today," Angel said conversationally, as Buffy
moved the cue. The sight of her indecently short skirt slowly inching up
to reveal a swaindecently short skirt slowly inching up to reveal a
swath of creamy white flesh and a scrap of black silk was distracting
him just a bit more than he liked.
Her shot missed its mark and the cue ball sailed over the surface of the
table, just nicking the green ball that sat to the right of the eight
ball. Cursing herself for letting the sensual tone of his voice distract her, Buffy stepped back to watch. Luck was on her side and the green ball hit the eight ball sending it closer to the pocket. Now, more determined to win, Buffy leaned over the table and took her next shot.
She watched in triumph as the cue ball hit the eight ball sending it
careening into the pocket. She turned to Angel, smiling smugly, all set
to declare victory and claim her prize, when she noticed that he was smiling too.
"Scratch," he informed her, nodding toward the table. Buffy turned in
disbelief, her jaw dropping when she noticed that both the eight ball
and the cue ball were missing from the table. She turned back to Angel
to plead her case, but he shook his head, cutting off her protest. "Redo
the shot, lover."
With the sound of his laughter echoing in her ears, Buffy stalked back
to the table. She pulled the two balls from the corner pocket and placed
them back in the appropriate places on the table. Then she leaned over the table to take her third and final shot. But if she thought Angel was going to let her win so easily she was mistaken.
She had just bent over the table when she felt his arms around her, one hand wrapping around her own, the other hand taking the end of the cue. His hips were nestled firmly against her, and for a moment she forget
just how much was riding on her last shot.
"Usually, I'd commend you on your form," Angel's whispered words brought her back to her senses. "But I think you need a little coaching." She stiffened beneath him as she wondered just what kind of coaching he had in mind. He chuckled, correctly reading her thoughts. "Naughty, naughty Miss Summers," he whispered teasingly in her ear. "That comes later. After I win."
"What makes you so sure," she asked, turning around to face him. She
noticed, too late, that he made no move to step back and that they were
so close together she could feel him pressing against her. Stifling a
moan, she looked up into his amused eyes. "What makes you think I can't
beat you?" Suddenly she knew they weren't just talking about pool.
Taking note of the tremor of uncertainty in her voice, his smile
widened. He leaned forward until his lips were mere inches from hers.
"You won't win, because you don't want to." When she shook her head in
protest, he nodded, mimicking her movement. "You don't want to win
because you'd like nothing more than to have my cock up your cunt,
making you beg for me." He pushed against her again, and this time she
couldn't stifle her moans. "Poor little Slayer's so horny she doesn't
care if a demon's the one making her come."
She tried to push him away, but he held her trapped, his arms on either
side of her, holding on to the table. His hips pressed tightly against
her. She turned back around, trying to stop her body from throbbing with
need for him.
"The last thing I want is you," she lied, surprised at how calm she
sounded when his arousal was pressed so tightly against her. But she
knew Angel knew differently.
"You can deny it all you want, lover," he told her. He moved against
her, pushing her cunt against the edge of the table and she gasped at
the wave of pleasure washed over her. "I know you want me. If that gasp
didn't betray it, the scent would." He pulled back suddenly, smiling
when he heard her whimper in protest, and stood back against the wall. "You've got one more shot. Make it count."
Buffy closed her eyes, silently praying for a miracle. Then she picked
up her cue and took her shot. Whatever luck she'd possessed earlier was
gone now, and she watched as the cue ball rolled right past the eight
ball and into the pocket. Wondering just what deity hated her so much,
she turned to Angel, ready to accept her fate.
"Right pocket, wrong ball," she announced with as much dignity as she
could. "Looks like you won." He nodded but didn't speak as he watched
her, the mix of triumph and desire in his eyes making her nervous.
"Come here, Summers," he demanded after a moment. When she hesistated he sighed. "No protests, remember?"
Her eyes full of contempt, she walked toward him, wondering just what he
had planned for her. She didn't have to wonder long. Just as she reached
him, Angel grabbed her wrist, pulling her hard against his chest. Then
slowly, deliberately, he lowered his head to hers.
The first touch of his lips on hers was soft and a sigh escaped her
mouth, giving Angel just the access he needed. But he didn't take
advantage. His lips skillfully nipped hers, making her want more of what
he was offering. She couldn't help but respond. When she willingly
opened up to him his tongue swept into her mouth, teasing hers gently, playfully inviting hers to play along. For moments on end he stayed at her lips, their tongues engaged in mock battle. Suddenly he pulled away slightly, granting her time to catch her breath.
"Take off the shirt," he whispered against her lips. He moved when she
brought the garment over her head and tossed it over her shoulder. It
landed in a silky pile at the other end of the pool table.
Stepping back to look at her, he was once again in awe of her beauty.
The bra gently cupped her breasts and the sight of black lace against
her tanned skin sent a wave of lust through him. He leaned forward and
ran his tongue along the swell of her breasts before dipping down and
taking one lace clad nipple into his mouth, sucking her through the
fabric. Buffy's hands, which had been resting beside her on the table,
came up to pull his head closer to her.
While his mouth was occupied, Angel reached behind the Slayer and
skillfully undid the clasp of her bra. Then he reached up, took the
straps between his fiThen he reached up, took the straps between his
fingers and pulled them down off her shoulders. Her breasts spilled out
of the lacy confines and his mouth was there to catch them. As his mouth
devoted attention to one breast, his fingers, squeezing ever so gently. He gave equal amounts of attention to the other breast before pulling away from her. Buffy's hands immediately went to the front of his shirt, hastily
unbuttoning it, desperate to feel his skin next to hers. When the last
button was undone, Angel shrugged out of it, tossing it to the table next to hers.
"Lie back," he told her, and she didn't hesitate to obey. "Grab the
table and don't move."
To insure her cooperation, Angel leaned forward and sealed his lips with
hers. A gasp of delight escaped her lips as she felt his cool flesh
against her breasts and the equally cool surface of the table beneath
her. Angel's lips left hers to move ver her skin. His lips brushed her
neck, his teeth nipping at the pulsing vein, before moving lower to her
collarbone and down the valley between her breasts. Smiling as she
whispered his name, his tongue traced a path down her body. Pushing her
leather skirt up to gather around her waist, he moved on to press kisses
along the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh and she arched against him,
silently relaying her need.
Her black silk panties presented one last obstacle to his prize. Once
they'd been discarded, he moved back up to the juncture of her thighs
and the treasure contained there. Parting the delicate lips of her sex, Angel ran his tongue over her clit. At the contact, Buffy's hips bucked
against his mouth, a low moan on her lips. Angel ignored her, his
attention focused entirely on achieving his goal, making her beg for
him, making himself forget how great a hold she still had over him. He
slipped one finger, then two inside her tight heat and the rhythm of his
thrusting fingers and flicking tongue drove Buffy crazy with pleasure.
Over and over he brought her to the edge, but as soon as she was ready
to fall, ready to give herself up to the pleasure, he jerked her back
and made her climb to the top all over again.
"You know," Angel said, pausing in his task long enough to speak. "If
you want this to end, all you have to do is ask." He took her clit
between his teeth and bit down gently, smiling when she cried out his name. "Just ask."
And that was just it. Part of her wasn't sure she wanted it to end. Truth was, she wanted nothing more than to stay there, lying on the table, open completely to anything Angel cared to do to her. At the moment she couldn't think of anywhere else she'd rather be than with him. The other half of her brain, the part that was still working, loathed the way he still had the ability to make her vunerable to him.
As Buffy continued to contemplate begging for completion or continuing
the torture, Angel took matters into his own hands. Freeing his erection
from the confines of his leather pants, he positioned himself at the
entrance to Buffy's body and leaned over, his eyes staring into hers.
With one smooth thrust, he buried himself deeply into his lover and
stayed there, unmoving.
"Tell me what you want, Buffy," he whispered placing a finger over her
lips to silence her moans. He pulled out of her, slowly and slid
deliberately into her again. "Tell me what you need."
That one last thrust was all it took for Buffy to break. Wrapping her
legs around his waist, she pulled him into her. "I need you," she
whispered against his lips. She didn't care about the power admitting it
gave him, didn't care that, once again, he'd managed to win. All she
cared was that he was inside her, waiting to give her what she wanted.
And if she had to beg, then so be it. "I want you to fuck me. I want you
to make me scream."
In answer to her declaration, Angel thrust hard, driving her back
against the table. Holding her hips in his hands, he plunged into her
over and over again. Each stroke of him inside her satisfied his desire
for her, giving her the pleasure she needed.
Another deep thrust sent Buffy over the edge of pleasure and she
climaxed, her lover's name erupting from her throat. Angel continued to
move within her and she bared her throat, offering him what he needed.
His fangs sunk into her vein, taking what she willingly offered, and
with one last thrust he came within her. The sounds of their union
echoed in the silence of the room as Angel's tongue soothed the wounds
he'd inflicted. They laid there on the table, arms wrapped around each
other, each lost in their own thoughts.
After a moment he pulled away from her, suddenly desperate to get away
from the arms holding him. Stifling the urge to burying himself in her
warmth again, Angel turned away from the tempting sight before him. Reaching over her to retrieve his shirt, he couldn't help but brush his lips with hers. As always, he was drawn to her, despite his better judgement.
"We've got a problem here," Buffy said when he pulled away. She sat up,
comfortable in her nudity, and smiled at him. "Or should I say, *you*
have a problem here."
He ignored her, gathered up her clothes and tossed them to her. "Get
Without another word, Buffy put on her bra and shirt and rearranged her
skirt. She refused to even think about what had just happened. Not when
she what she wanted was not to dressed, but to push Angel on the table
and do it all over again. When she got home she could deal with the
emotions flowing through her. Running her hands through her hair, she
walked to the door. Before she left, she turned back to Angel and
"You shouldn't have started it if you couldn't handle it," she said,
flashing him a sympathetic smile.
"Don't worry," Angel muttered from across the room. "I can handle it
Buffy nodded. "See you around," she said finally and with that she
walked out of the room.
Angel watched her go with a sullen frown upon his face. When the door
closed behind her, he picked up the cue ball from the table, tossed it
at the wall and cursed. "Damn," he muttered.
He looked at the door she had just strolled through, a smug smille on
her face. "Damn her to hell."