Kissing him is like a religious experience for me, I swear. It seriously makes me believe that in a world filled with such pain and monsters: general badness, that there's someone watching out for us – Someone who lets real good happen alongside the bad.
We're pretty much devouring each other as he carries me back to the bed. His neck, his chin, his jaw. My neck, my chin, my jaw. I want my mouth all over him and his all over me and it's happening. It's happening and I'm so wet I can feel it dripping down his stomach as I rub up against him. I can't stop moving against him and as my ass bumps against his growing hardness it only makes it worse. I want him in me again, to feel whole again. I need him so much I'm whimpering into his mouth begging him. I never thought I be one to beg. But when it comes to him, I swear I'd crawl on my hands and knees pleading across forever just to look at him. Just to have him look at me. "Angel, please. Please…please, I need you."
As I'm saying all this he lowers my back to the bed and just looks at me. I don't know quite how to describe the look in his eyes except to say it made me feel so loved and so warm and unbelievably… naked. It's then that I realize the comforter has fallen to the bed behind me and has left me completely unobstructed to his view. I suddenly feel shy, like he's never seen me before even though he spent hours last night touching every last inch of me inside and out. I self-consciously make a move to cover myself, but his palms gently press my wrists back towards the bed. I lay hypnotized as his head descends ever so slowly and places the most amazing kiss right between my breasts. His lips linger there, barely caressing my skin as he utters, "So beautiful." And then my head feels all flighty and I feel like I'm glowing, radiating from the inside. I really do. 'Cause I know have this destiny, this reason why I should feel special, extraordinary even, but it's when he says things like that, when he beholds me with such reverence, that's when I feel like maybe I am special. And not special in the freakish way - special in the way I want to be. Special as a girl. Special to the man who's more than special to me.
When his head rises again I look him straight in the eyes, all my insecurity dissipated, and reach up to run my right index finger down his forehead, over his nose, and let it linger on his lips. "So are you." I tell him. "So beautiful." Into my mind flashes a vision of him from just a few moments ago. That look of peace caressing his features while he slept: the serenity that made him that much more beautiful. "I wanna make you so happy," I confess.
"God, you do," he insists, shaking his head in disbelief.
"As happy as you make me?"
It was an innocent question really, but as I ask it I see his eyes grow glassy and his voice cracks as he wonders, "Do I really make you happy?" It's such a stupid question I almost don't know how to answer.
"Angel," I murmur with disbelief. All I can think is how can he be so full of doubt? How can he not see what he is to me? "Unbelievably so."
I tangle my fingers in his necklace and tug on it just a little. "You make me feel like I'm…" my voice hitches in my throat, "like it's enough to just be me. It means everything Angel. You mean everything." I try to blink back tears, but one escapes and he catches it with his knuckles as they caresses my temple.
He dips his head forward to touch his forehead to mine when he asks, "Do you have to go home before school?"
"I'll wear what I have."
"Your shirt is ripped."
"I don't care."
"How long before you have to go."
"Hours," I grin, but he doesn't.
"I'm gonna make you happy."
"You do, I swear you do." And then he made love to me. Twice. And if I didn't have an apocalypse to face, I'd so call in sick. Everyday. For the rest of my academic career. I'd stay right were I am right now. I'd live off of Angel. My body sure as hell doesn't need food when my soul's this nourished. He's spooned behind me and to feel his skin against mine defines perfect in the Buffy dictionary. He's where I want to be and how I want to feel and who I want to be with, wrapped up in one perfect package. His hand's cradling my belly as his fingertips are grazing my hip and oh God, I love him. I hate school and all my stupid everyday obligations and I love him so much. So, so much.