Author's Note: Pre-Surprise. Buffy's sixteen. Angel was a killer. B/A
He licks down her stomach and feels her breath catch as he gets closer. Her muscles clench under his mouth and she freezes, unsure of herself, waiting. Running his tongue along the crease where her legs join her hips, he waits for her to relax. Her fear and arousal is too much for him.
It might be the warmest part of her body, both delicately formed and strong. She smells like sweat, the stench so purely human he almost moans. None of that vanilla perfume she is so fond of. Patrolling had awakened her, washed away sterile flavor of soap and left her odor clinging between her legs and armpits. She smelled female and powerful. An ancient power coiled up in her petite frame, spread out under him, unsure.
He buries his face in her cunt and doesn't move. Thinks of her period, wonders if she'd allow him to lick her clean. Virgin menstrual blood. Slayer. He moans, lips parting, tasting her accidently. She shifts slightly.
He realizes this is the first time she has shown herself to anyone, allowed a face to come in such close contact with this part of her. He could hurt her, pull back, disgusted. A whispered comment about the odd shape of her lips, watch the confusion spread across her face, followed by pain, culminating in hard nothing. He likes her better when she's hurt, when all of her power boils right up to her skin and he can see his death in her frame. He tells her he loves her because he wants to kill her. Wants to feel the liquid movement of her hips as she pounds his face in the floor.
('Oh, c'mon!' she once taunted. 'I mean, you must've thought about it. What would happen if it ever came down to a fight, you, vampire, me, the Slayer.')
Instead, he opens his mouth wider, moves his tongue and sucks on her. Thinks about how long it's been since he touched someone this closely, wonders why it's her. Young girls with huge power. Strength, foresight--anything that threatens him he has to claim. Mark. Taint. Her pulse pounds in his ears.
He jerks away, growling, trying to hide the yellow flash of fangs from her. She sits up, confused, looking down at him from the bed. He is shirtless, kneeling, and she is his naked altar. When she moves down onto his lap, she adjusts her body so that she doesn't press herself against his hard-on. Too timid to touch him yet.
"Angel."
He smiles. She gets up to change and he turns his head to give her privacy. He can still taste her on his lips.