I've decided to add the other stories of this 'verse as continuing chapters to Courting Sin. These stories go from drabbles to full-fledged stories, and I hope you'll enjoy them all.

DISCLAIMER: giggles I'd be happy with the leather.
GENRE: Romance... I guess.
RATING: R-ish
WORDCOUNT: 1582
SUMMARY: CS'verse. B/Aus, S2. The closest thing to Fluff I can write with them. And Fluff probably is running scared that I'm using its name here. So Alternate Reality it hurts. How many times can Leni use the word 'sun' in a story? Language warning!
FEEDBACK: Please?
THANK YOU: to Kristi for the beta. And Sharon for convincing me to participate in colorific. Though that was more of a -Sharon: 'I have this idea...' -Leni 'Yay!! Where? Where?'. LOL. hugs her

for colorific, fuchsia. Other shades of purple: magenta, lavender, lilac, mauve


TEASE

by Leni


He stood in the last inch the shadows protected and looked into the gardens. He didn't like to be out of bed during the day, and since Spike had taken Drusilla away it'd been even less necessary. But he'd heard Buffy come in, recognised her light steps across the mansion's lounge room. He hadn't paid attention at first, she was always coming and going. But when she hadn't entered his bedroom after half an hour, his curiosity had risen.

Now he understood the reason for her delay. He found her in the middle of the unkept garden, a recumbent shape stretching languidly under the sun. Her hair was wrapped tighly in a bun, leaving her neck bare to the sun's effects. His eyes followed the inviting arch, then down the relaxed lines of her back. He smiled when he found the bikini's white straps open at either side before continuing his appreciation of her exposed skin.

She'd put a bright fuchsia towel between her and the ground, some overly plushy fabric with happy girly designs. To see Buffy lying between smiling butterflies and overgrown daisies; he could hardly reconcile this image with the confident vixen who'd practically assaulted him in the far end of Main Street two nights ago. Now she appeared to be asleep, though her breathing pattern betrayed that she wasn't. Anybody else, she would have fooled easily, except for her toes that brushed absently against the rachitic grass. A tired nymph hiding in his property; Angelus liked that idea but had to break the spell before he became enamoured of it. "Thought this was why we had beaches in Sunnydale," he said loudly.

Her body didn't move at his sudden intervention, neither did her feet stop their slow back-and-forth path. She moaned low in her throat, as if it weighed her to interrupt her blissfully relaxed state. "Too many people," she said curtly, in a tone that let Angelus know in no uncertain terms that his presence was also one too many.

That didn't deter him, much less make him leave. He felt satisfied with the view Buffy was offering and wasn't about to give it up just because she was in a mood. Her skin, somewhat pale from her nocturnal life-style had already recovered some of its golden overtones. "People at the beach? I thought that was the point of going with your friends." Indeed, now he remembered she'd told him excitedly of their plans to enjoy the first summer weekend together. What she'd been so excited about, Angelus couldn't fathom; but Buffy had been babbling and unable to wipe that silly smile off her face.

"It's Willow. She got the flu."

"And good Harris is taking care of her," he completed the sentence. Her shoulders shrugged, as if she didn't care. But she was pouting against the towel, he just knew that. Couldn't have his girl pouting, could he? "And that leaves you alone and whining in my garden." The mocking tone worked its effect. Buffy whirled around, not caring that the white straps hung loose at her sides, maybe because she was sure that the front would hold in place. Sadly, she was right. She didn't say a word, but her glare alone spoke volumes. If looks could kill... Well, hers would have pushed him into the sunlight and danced in his ashes. He laughed. "Not whining, then?"

She gathered her knees to her chest and her eyes narrowed even further. "Fuck off," she told him succinctly.

Angelus laughed harder. There was something so wrong about Buffy using profanity while she was still sitting on that ridiculous fuchsia towel... He abruptly sobered up. A little girl's accessory and a little girl's temperament. He looked at her thoughtfully, wondering why it was so easy to forget she was only seventeen years old. Then her anger subsided and he saw the burden of a thousand Slayers past take hold of her features. This was more like it. Angelus wanted to grasp that transformation, bottle it and show it to everyone who considered Buffy a normal teenager. She was the Slayer first and last, and even those aware of her secret couldn't understand that simple fact. It was the Slayer who looked at him defiantly, daring him to make fun of her again. He acquiesced with a slight nod and contented himself watching as she applied more sunblock to her legs and torso. The ever-present pieces of jewelry were missing this time, and even though their absence was necessary for an even suntan, Angelus found he missed seeing the silver glint of a Claddagh against her chest and the smaller one peeking from between her fingers.

Buffy hesitated when her hands found the lower edge of her bikini top, looked up at him interrogatingly. Angelus's eyebrow rose in slight surprise and he smiled. His day had just been made a lot better. Did she think he would stop her? "Nobody but me here, Buff." Their eyes met across the few insurmountable meters that separated them. After some seconds, Buffy nodded and smiled back. An inviting, seductive smile that gained new nuances under the sunlight, where she knew that no matter her actions, he wouldn't be able to follow.

Now he recognised his girl as she slowly pulled the cloth away, never letting him take his eyes off hers. Then she shimmied out of the bikini bottom and pushed it away with her right foot. This was the woman he'd stalked for weeks, the one who'd given him a taste of his own medicine when she'd considered it necessary. Buffy stretched again, now using only her elbows and the tips of her toes for support. Her body arched beautifully upwards while her head was thrown back, a move so exactly executed, an invitation so shameless that his nails were biting his palms in instant reaction. Angelus forgot that it was daytime, forgot the incongruous setting she'd provided: the childish towel as direct background, the dying and stunted plants surrounding her, the fact alone that this was the gardens in fucking sunlight and not his bedroom.

"Angel?" Too entranced in the sight of her, she had to call him twice before he responded. "You okay there?"

He stared at her, half incredulously and half proudly, and finally noticed that she'd made no move in his direction. And she didn't seem to be about to, either. She really was going to take that sunbath and leave him waiting, wasn't she? He chuckled and resigned himself to this whim of hers. A normal teenager... Right. And he also wanted that soul back. He took a single step towards her, occupying the space the shadows had gained during this interlude, saw her smile grow when she noticed his advance.

"Maybe I should go. Check on poor sick Will, don't you think?" Buffy said, amusement written clearly in her eyes. If she did, she would discover what chains were good for. But she only giggled at his expression and laid back on the towel, shifting this way and the other until she found a comfortable position. Angelus thanked the fates that her instincts, sharply honed in battle, didn't pick up on his crazy pondering of how bad it'd actually be to leap into the sun. He shook his head at himself and settled to wait for sundown. Meanwhile, he consoled himself envisioning scenarios where he made her pay for her merciless teasing.

In the end, he simply carried her inside, corresponding her light kisses and touching her sun-kissed cheeks with his lips as they went. He deposited her gently on the bed, lowered himself at her side to caress her warm skin, feeling as the last vestiges of sunlight slowly evaporated into nothing. Buffy wrapped herself around him, confessing against his collarbone to have waited for the sun to set as desperately as he had. She kissed him fiercely and he responded in kind, letting her set the pace for the following minutes. But the moment she tugged his shirt upwards, he tutted and shook his head, stopping his hands' movement on her back and lowering them onto the mattress. Buffy blinked at the unexpected pause, stared at him inquisitively. Angelus was aware that he was smirking as he talked, "Don't ever do that." He leaned forward to steal a quick kiss from a still surprised mouth. "Unless I ask." From her expression as his intentions dawned on her, he knew she'd take his words as a challenge. 'Do it until I get used to it,' her mind had translated, he saw it in the hard set her chin assumed as he dislodged himself from her arms. Without another word, he left her on the bed wearing nothing but a deep frown and fledging plans of retribution. Angelus was looking forward to it.

Once the scene had been assimilated, she'd go on patrol. He pitied the poor bastards who crossed her path tonight. An unsatisfied Slayer was deadly enough, add Buffy's current hot anger... He ignored the loud stomping of drawers as she got dressed and was careful to set his visit to the gardens in time with her exit. There, he distinguished the ugly towel lying forgotten on the ground. Even under the moonlight that bright fuchsia still hurt his eyes, never mind the butterflies... He picked it up, then walked inside and threw a few logs in the fireplace. After all, a nice fire would be a good first step to placate Buffy when she returned.


The End
26/10/05