Author's Note: I wanted to write a what-if, what Buffy would do if she were to be selfish and not worry about the consequences. You'll see what I mean. This takes place sometime after Beauty and the Beasts. Warning for some adult content.
Dread succumbed to her as she stood in front of the vanity mirror. She reaches for the padded brush, setting it down, then picking it up again, indecisiveness marring her features. Her heart fought desperately to be torn out of her chest and onto the floor.
All she had to do was get through the dinner. Only then could she leave to see her beloved.
Even though it had been twenty-four hours since she last felt his cold lips on hers, being without him was the literal definition of hell, a soul without a living host.
He was alone in the mansion, a savaged prisoner in chains.
Her heart wrenched in both longing and guilt.
The guilt lasted momentarily.
For now, all she could think about was him. As long as they were in the dark, she could have him to herself.
He would be safe with her.
In her arms.
She gave him her word.
Sometime after midnight…
She lays spread-eagled across his bed, the red velvet sheets the only barrier surrounding them.
"Just do it," she pleaded to him, her voice husky with both lust and love.
Without a word, he thrusts into her, their bodies moving in a slow, ascending rhythm.
Moans fill the darkened room, nails digging into his cold, bare flesh.
She whispers in his ear, begging him to do it.
He smiles.
She feels the sharpness of fangs, a euphoric rush colliding with her orgasm as he drinks in deeply.
Their bodies collapsing from ecstasy, they fall into sleep, not worrying about tomorrow.