after.midnight // v.naked TITLE: Game of Chance
AUTHOR: Tamara
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 breath.

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 this week?"

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. "I'm disappointed."

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 handle it?"

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 dressed."

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 sighed.

"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 just fine."

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."