fanfiction by sienna

Afterglow
by Sienna

E-MAIL: siennafic@gmail.com
DISCLAIMER: The sex is mine! All mine! <coughs> Right, this is a *dis*claimer. It's strange putting asterisks in the middle of words.
RATING: NC-17....for the love
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Unadulterated PWP with added fluff. I was looking through my stories and realised that I had no fluff. I had to remedy the situation. I wrote this before Connor was born on the show, so names are purely coincidental.
FEEDBACK: is absolutely adored. I would like to know what you thought.
SYNOPSIS: Angel's POV during afterglow with a little lovin' thrown in for good measure.

She collapses on me breathlessly, her skin damp and burning, her energy blissfully spent. I smile, wholly pleased with myself. Her wild, shining hair is diffused across my chest, her breath puffing warmly over my sweaty skin. I am panting with her, my muscles aching deliciously from our latest bout of lovemaking.

She never ceases to amaze me, my mate, and I exist purely for her and the utter joy she brings me. She gets up on all fours, despite her exhaustion, and kisses me with moist, swollen lips. I wrap my arms around her soft body, loving how her back is small and delicate beneath my hand, my touch encompassing her worshipfully.

I bury my hands in her hair, holding her head so I can kiss her as I like, my tongue sweeping into her mouth to glide along hers. I love how her talented little tongue never fails to send ripples of pleasure through my body, how she knows me so well, intrinsically pleasing me. I love how I know her just as well, and the reality that I am the only one who will ever bring her such pleasure causes an almost animal pride to surface. I slide my hands over her full breasts, running the back of my fingers over her firm nipples, relishing the shiver it causes within her.

This part is as wonderful as everything else; the warm caresses and adoration, experiencing each other after sharing incredible euphoria without feeling danger or fear of its consequences. She leisurely presses kisses to my ear, moving to my throat and pulling the skin between her lips gently, her aroused nipples barely grazing my chest as she hovers above me. Pleasure surges languidly through jaded nerves and I sigh her name softly, appreciatively. She nibbles on my collarbone and I bury my nose in her hair, feeling utterly content.

In all my lonely days, I never imagined happiness to feel as perfect as it does. It is heaven to be able to hold her warmly in my embrace, to make love to her, to know that I have purpose.

At this moment, my purpose is simply to love her, to devote myself to her happiness as she has to mine.

We are closer than we could have ever dreamed. I only have to look at her to know what she feels, what she wants, what she needs. I don't hesitate anymore; I take from her as freely and fervently as she takes from me. We constantly give ourselves, in comfort, in joy, and foremost, in love.

Buffy lowers her chest to mine again and we both moan at the contact.

I have a bottomless well of lust for this woman. She is incomparable, this beauty my body and soul is mated with, and my heart will quicken at the mere mention of her. Her soft lips, capable hands, lithe body...never fail to bring me unending pleasure. My desire for her will never be sated, but her attempts to appease my desires are glorious...I can climax simply from watching her body move as one with mine.

I trace a finely contoured eyebrow and drift to the side of her face, awed at the silkiness of her skin. She is incandescent, flushed golden from our lovemaking. She watches me through half-closed eyelids, a contented smile on her face as I caress her dainty features. With a feather-light touch, I slide my thumb over her bottom lip, then the top, watching them part easily beneath my fingers. I slip my thumb between those lips, feeling her tongue slide softly, wetly against it, her mouth pulling lightly, reminding me of other soft, wet places in her body. I watch, mesmerised, as her eyes drift shut, her hair cascading softly around her shoulders.

I pull her face towards mine and slip my tongue between her lips, feeling my thumb in her mouth. Her legs tighten around my hips, small hands bury themselves in my hair. Times like this almost make me feel guilty for plundering something so innocent, until I remember that my lover can be called many things, least of all, innocent. She knows every inch of my body, explores it thoroughly when the chance arises. She knows how to make me moan with pleasure -- with her mouth, hands, sex.....Her sex is the perfect place to luxuriate; tight, grasping heat, fortified with the benefits of Slayer strength. She takes me deeply and without hesitation, as if ravenous for the feel of my hardness filling her, spilling into her fiery depths.

My kisses move to her ear and I nip there gently, stealing to her collarbone and in the hollow at the base of her throat, lingering contentedly. I press a kiss to the remnants of the scar my bite caused all those years ago, remembering what it was like to feed from her, taste her precious life and feel it fill me completely. I scrape against the tissue with blunt teeth, placing a final kiss there before pulling back, resting my head on the pillow again and looking up at her.

Her eyes open slowly, lazily, and she smiles at me. That smile is mine and I bask in it, wondering how we managed to get this far, how I could feel this happy without something going awry.

I have the urge to knock wood.

She frowns as she senses me drifting and I quickly attempt to reassure her, sliding my hands down her sides warmly. She makes a small sound of appreciation at the back of her throat, her head arching back slightly, her body undulating against mine. I hold her hips, move my hands over the curve of her haunches, taking her in with thorough deliberation.

Slowly, softly, I glide my fingers over her moist sex, not to arouse, exactly, but simply to feel her heat, her essence, and know that it is for me only. Her folds part easily, wetness seeping over my fingers.

"Angel..." she murmurs, pushing her hips into my hand, instinctively seeking my touch.

It seems my beloved still has energy, after all.

I caress her hard centre of nerves, watching the pleasure flit over her features as I spread her wetness over her sex, returning to put pressure on her clitoris again.

"Good..." she mumbles, her hips moving in small, gentle waves against my fingers.

"Mmm," I undertone with a smile, my fingers sliding between her labia. My beloved is very, very good.

She whimpers once, urging me to press deeper. I concede, slipping two fingers into her tight heat, stroking her inner walls, at the roof of her sex, where she enjoys it. I curl my fingers upward, pressing harder, rubbing that spot more quickly. She bucks her hips, gasping, her voice ending in a high whimper, the one that always drives me wild for her. She grinds her pelvis into my hand, gripping my shoulder hard.

I slow, not giving her release yet and she whines a little, her hips still moving in an effort to prolong her pleasure. I kiss her softly, my lips barely brushing hers, as I pull my fingers out of her heat, placing them at her lips. She opens obediently and cleans my fingers of her wetness. Her tongue is soft and slippery, and I watch it flick tantalisingly against my fingers. Her lips glisten with moisture and I can't resist, capturing them with my own, tasting her hungrily.

I am hard and aching for her again -- always -- and almost bite her lip when her hand wraps around my arousal, squeezing gently. I groan, pulling her hips down to mine so that I can feel her wet heat. I know she's still yearning for release; her sex slides over mine, seeping warm wetness on my erection. I wrap my arms around her back, one hand on her haunches to press her to me more firmly.

I slide her off my body so that she is on her stomach beside me and quickly move over her to position my sex between her legs, bracing myself on my elbows. I slowly kiss her shoulders, nibbling, tasting...rubbing my cheek against the satiny skin of her back. She arches beneath me, pressing against my erection insistently. I smooth a hand up her side and catch a warm breast, kissing between her shoulder blades.

"So beautiful," I murmur into her ear, pressing wet kisses to the side of her neck. She giggles, ticklish, then leans up on one elbow, pushing my hand from her breast and running it down her body, over her flat stomach, to where she wants me. I cup her sex, my fingers digging softly into her heat, and she moans, shifting so that her chest is on the bed again as she raises her hips, balancing her knees in the soft mattress. I straighten, kneeling above her, rubbing her clit as she keens. I smooth a hand down her arched back, starting from the base and moving down between her shoulders. Her bottom raises higher, pushing into my arousal.

I part her lower lips with my fingers and slide my cock between them, earning a low moan of pleasure. This delectable anticipation is pure ecstasy in itself.

"Do it," she pleads, lifting her body to lean on her elbows. I slip my sex into her pulsing heat, shutting my eyes with a soft groan as pleasure overcomes me. I begin thrusting smoothly...long, deep thrusts that let me feel every inch of her heat. I watch myself sink into her wetness, feeling an erotic thrill at the sight of our union. My cock is glistening with her moisture, throbbing with heat and blood. I lean over her back, my fingers massaging her clit, and thrust more forcefully into her, moaning at the feel of her sex pulling me back in when I withdraw.

My forehead rests against her shoulder as I drive into her sharply, pulling her hips back against me when I do. I speed up, my cock stroking inside her desperately as she muffles her scream in a pillow, her hips thrusting with mine. She tenses suddenly, her back arching, and I watch with wonder as she comes, her sex squeezing mine tightly within her, massaging me as I pump into her powerfully.

She's moaning now, gasping, clenching around me with those wonderfully tight muscles. I hold her thighs apart and take her harder, feeling my climax surge up within me quickly. Her fingers caress my testes, squeezing gently, before rubbing that spot just behind them, shooting a bolt of ecstasy through my system. I thrust almost violently, exploding into her sex, the only thought in my mind is to go deeper, to fuck her to exhaustion. I buck my hips hard, spilling into her, causing her to tighten her grip on the sheets and push against me, coming with me one more time.

I fall to my side, my heart racing inside my chest, and bring her with me by the hips so that I stay within her heat. She exhales deeply, reaching down between her legs to caress the base of my cock. I growl at her and she laughs, snuggling back into my chest warmly. I kiss her hair, utterly spent and satisfied, wanting to sleep in her arms for a long, long time.

Instead, I remain half awake, drifting leisurely, stroking lazy patterns on her stomach. I slip out of her body regretfully and turn her gently to face me. She smiles tenderly, kissing my chin. I gaze at her for an eternity, drinking her in, falling into her eyes. She looks rumpled...sexy, and the full curve of her bare breast holds my attention for a moment. Just as I gather her up against my chest, our peaceful interlude is disrupted noisily.

"That's *mine*!" comes a shrill shout from the hall. "I said, that's MINE!"

Buffy groans softly, sliding her arms around my back to hold me closer as she denies what is awaiting us.

The voices approach quickly and we barely manage to cover ourselves with a sheet when the door bursts open.

"Troy took my car! Make him give it back!" our two-year-old ("Almost three!") cries indignantly.

"Give it back," Buffy mumbles into my chest. I kiss her forehead and sit up, discreetly pulling on my boxers. She whimpers a complaint when I roll out of bed, and I feign a glare at my son before scooping him up into my arms.

"What are you up to now?" I sigh, closing the bedroom door behind me as we head for Troy's room.

"He won't give my car back," Connor whines. I smile. One thing I've learnt about toddlers: nothing can distract them when their mission has been established.

My five-year-old son is sitting in the middle of the room, his box of toys tipped over and scattered all over the floor. He crashes mean-looking figurines together, making rather impressive sound effects.

"You know mommy likes to sleep in on Saturdays," I admonish, 'and so does daddy' already tacit understanding. "Aren't you tired?" I ask, glancing at the clock. It's barely eight thirty. I smile, "I am."

"You're always tired on Saturdays," Connor reminds me as I lower him to the floor.

Ah, an observant one.

"Why don't you give him back his car?" I suggest to Troy.

"Can't," he says, shaking his head.

I'm almost stumped at the face of such a candid reply. "Why not?"

"The Sabre Warriors need to protect the battlefield against the Decimators," he answers, as if it was obvious. "They need cars to make a wall."

"See!" Connor says, frowning.

"Do you really need his car?" I ask.

Troy shrugs after a moment. "I'm only borrowing it," he huffs.

"Yeah, I know, buddy." I both dread and await the day they argue about real cars. Thankfully, it's not for a long while yet.

Buffy comes into the room, yawning and pulling her robe around herself more securely. She kisses the boys' dark hair in greeting.

"What can you two be fighting about this early?"

I sit on the floor with Troy and attempt to figure out how the blue Sabre guy's cool laser thing works.

"My car!" Connor points. Troy grudgingly pushes it towards him and Connor snatches it up immediately. He turns to Buffy excitedly.

"I want Coco Pops!" he announces, yanking at her robe and jumping up and down, chanting, "Coco! Coco! Coco!" his car already forgotten.

"Loco," she mutters affectionately. Buffy grabs him to cease his bouncing, hugging him close. He wraps his little arms around her neck and she rubs her nose against his soft cheek. "How can you have so much energy? Mommy's still tired," she says, emphasising her point with another stifled yawn.

"Daddy already told me," Connor says, tugging at the thin silver necklace she wears. She extricates it from his grasp gently, raising an eyebrow at me.

"You're always tired on Saturdays," I imitate my son, flashing a grin.

end.

<-- fiction

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