Days Later

Buffy's House

Master Bedroom

Sitting on the edge of the bed watching her husband pack a duffle bag of uniform shirts, BDU pants, and a pair of boots, Buffy couldn't help but feel excited about Riley's departure, though it would only last two weeks.

"Texas is only an hour ahead, so I wouldn't wake Lucy or you up when I call." He told her as he placed a folded green shirt into the duffle bag.

"We'll be waiting eagerly by the phone." Over the years of being with Riley, Buffy knew exactly what to say in order to give him security.

Riley looked up from the duffle bag to her and smiled. He stood straight and wandered over to her on the bed.

Buffy let him take her hands into his own.

"You're so beautiful." His blue eyes danced around her face and craned his neck down to gently kiss her lips.

She let him deepen the kiss. She knew what he wanted and since he'll be gone for a few weeks, she was willing to give it to him.

Wrapping her arm around his neck, Buffy kept Riley close as she laid back on the bed, taking him with her. Riley grinned against her mouth and immediately felt an uncontrollable wanting to take pleasure in his wife.

He settled between her legs and reached down, between their bodies and unfastened the buttons of her pants than his own.

They made love about two times a week and sometimes three if her 'itch' presented itself—which it rarely had.

Riley had often felt the 'itch' but it was Buffy that left him to scratch it alone.

She didn't know when her lack of sexual urge began. In the early stages of their relationship, they couldn't keep their hands off each other. They would make love sometimes twice a day.

Now, Buffy searched for excuses to be left alone. For just one more night she wanted to push off the chore of sleeping with her husband.

She had no idea what was wrong with her. She loved sex. So why did she keep pushing her husband away? If she had given up everything else; her career, her independence, why did she practically give up the only thing she could take solace in?

Next Afternoon

Playground

The day began as a hot one.

Buffy, Angel, and their kids were the only occupants on the playground during triple degree day.

Together sitting on a bench shaded by a canopy of leaves from a large redwood tree, Buffy didn't realise she was staring at him. She could see the sweat soaking the midnight blue v-neck that clung to his tanned muscular body.

She found herself longing to lick the salty sweat right off of his skin. Her mouth dried and her heart raced at the thought.

"Hot enough for you?" He asked, turning his sunglasses covered eyes from the children sitting under another tree across the way.

"Um… yeah," she said, pulling her gaze from his and focused on the children than to the book that sat between them. "My book pages are stuck together." Buffy picked up the book, just as Angel reached for it.

Their fingers touched and lingered for a minute.

Buffy swallowed and watched as he drew back his hand and placed it on his knee.

"It's surprisingly humid. I didn't think Southern California could get that way." He said, keeping the conversation going but honestly, he was trying to ignore the tingling sensation of their innocent touch.

She looked down at the book than to the children when a thought entered her mind. She knew it was a thought that played with fire but she justified it as 'thinking of the children'.

"We have a sprinkler. Steven would like it. Cool off a little bit... Maybe have lunch." The words left her mouth without hesitancy.

Angel looked at her for a moment then nodded, "I think Steven would like that too."

Buffy's House

1 Hour Later

After watching the children play in the modest-sized backyard of a modest-sized house located in a modest-sized suburban neighbourhood, Angel tossed his eyes around the well-kept yard. He wondered if Buffy's husband was the lawn groomer or if they hired.

Only having a brief look inside the home, Angel made a brief 'compare and contrast' analysis of his own home compared to Buffy's. Her furnishings were in good taste but lacked an expensive quality like in his home.

There was an undeniable sense of 'homeyness' that Angel found himself craving for. The Crawford Mansion was gorgeous and it was filled with expense but it seemed only good for looking at. Entering into the Crawford Mansion no one would have ever thought a four-year-old lived there because it was so pristine.

Buffy's home felt comfortable.

Following Buffy, as she carried a sleeping Lucy up the stairs and into her bedroom, Angel placed his tired son beside his little friend on the bed.

He stood straight. His gaze was fixed on Buffy's hands as she pulled the hem of the dry t-shirt Steven wore over his belly.

Unable to look away from her, he watched as she stood straighter and glanced over her shoulder at him.

Quietly, they backed away from the sleeping children on the bed and closed the white bedroom door.

"This is amazing, Steven never sleeps," Angel whispered standing behind her.

Buffy felt the hairs stand on the back of her neck as he gently whispered. "Lucy'll be out for a while." She faced him. "Do you want a cup of coffee?"

"It's a hundred and six outside," Angel began to smile unsurprised by the suggestion. On most afternoons, Buffy arrived with a large iced coffee from the local coffee shop that was on the way to the playground.

She looked at him with playful narrow eyes, "Its never too hot for coffee."

"You're an addict." He teased.

"Do you want a cup or not?" Though the question itself was not flirtatious, Buffy couldn't help but think her devilry came a bit more sultry then necessary. She hoped he didn't notice.

The corners of his mouth widened, "Sure."

As Buffy disappeared into the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee that neither of them really wanted but Buffy was desperate for something to distract her, Angel stepped into the hallway eyeing the photographs hanging strategically on a plain eggshell coloured wall.

A feeling of distaste knotted in his chest as he eyed the family photograph taken during a weekend away in San Francisco. He had never seen Buffy's husband before. He didn't even know his name. Buffy never mentioned it. She only referred to her husband as 'Lucy's father'. At the time Angel had found it interestingly vague that she often used such a term to describe her nameless husband. If it weren't for the set of rings seated on her left-hand ring finger, Angel never would've known that she was married.

Looking at him now, Angel was curious to know 'Lucy's father's' name. He wanted to know everything about the small family. Her husband looked like the blue-blooded, All-American type.

Turning his attention to another photograph, Angel stepped to it and felt a stabbing sensation piercing his heart. He figured Buffy would be a breathtaking bride. From the genuine smile on her face, he knew that she loved the man she was marrying. That sadness that initially attracted him to her hadn't set in her eyes yet.

Eying her husband in his service uniform, Angel should've known he was military. There was something about her husband that screamed 'white-bread America' and his career in the military seemed to be the topping to Buffy's husband 'All-American' persona.

Angel noticed a cracked open door and stepped towards it.

He pushed it open wider and stepped into the quaint study.

There was an untouched coffee mug sitting on a writing table in front of a window looking out to the neighbourhood. Over the tabletop was notebooks, record books, and a copy of Sonnets from the Portuguese. Paintings hung on the walls and some were set on the floor, leaning against the wall. Angel desperately wanted to know why she had chosen these particular paintings.

Taking interest in a framed photograph set on the table, he picked it up.

A small smile crossed his mouth. It was a photo of Buffy standing in front of a large painting with a man; Angel assumed was the artist. In the photo, Buffy wore a tight light pink designer dress, bold in colour designer shoes. Her golden long hair fell in waves over her shoulders. Angel couldn't help but think how adorable she looked in a pair of dark framed reading glasses.

"I sold that painting for two million that night."

Angel whirled around, still holding the photograph.

"It was my first major sale," Buffy said, leaning against the door frame with her arms folded across her chest.

"What's the most expensive painting you've ever sold?" He asked as he placed the photograph back on the tabletop.

Stepping into the study, Buffy thought for a moment then said, "Thirty-eight million."

"Wow, really?" Angel asked.

With a nod, Buffy explained, "The painting was huge. It had to be stored in a warehouse."

"Where is it now?"

Buffy shrugged, "The buyer's giant mansion, I guess. I just sold the art. I never asked where the art was going to be shown to the world. But I'm pretty sure, Wolfram & Hart did the paperwork for copyrights and insurance policy."

Leaning back on the edge of the desk, Angel crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. "As the CEO of Wolfram & Hart, I'm embarrassed that I've never noticed you."

"You never would've, since I never went to the office. I just sent someone to bring you the files."

"Then I'm sorry I never noticed your errand boy."

Buffy let out a soft laugh. "You're forgiven."

Tossing her a small smirk, Angel picked up a book and raised his brows, "Sonnets from the Portuguese?" He looked at her with surprise.

"Have you heard of it?" She crossed the short distance to him and reached out taking the book from his hand.

Angel watched her smile softly at the book.

"I like the romance." She told him.

He swallowed trying hard to mask his conflicting emotions.

Buffy placed the thin book down on the tabletop and realised for the first time just how close she was standing beside him. She could feel the heat from his body and smell the lingering scent of his cologne.

His hand slowly touched the back of her hand.

They both stared down at their touching hands.

Genuinely startled by the intimate contact, Buffy lifted her eyes to his face with a soft gasp.

Angel turned his hand and grabbed her hand before reaching around her back to pull her into his chest. His head lowered and captured her mouth. It was an urge he's had for weeks.

He was ready for her to push him away and slap him hard across his face, but she didn't. Instead, she surrendered to the moment and deepened the kiss, opening her mouth, letting his tongue slip inside.

Soon, the moment was over and Buffy broke the kiss by pushing him away.

They stared at each other out of breath.

Buffy's hand went to her mouth registering what had just happened. Her lips still tingled from the electrifying kiss. His cinnamon spicy taste was still on her tongue.

Angel stood silently, missing her kiss. Though the kiss lasted for a moment, he was addicted.

Slowly, Buffy took a small step towards him and grabbed the back of his head. She pulled his face to her and crushed her mouth against his.

As their passionate kiss went wild and their tongues explored each other's mouths. Buffy pressed her body against his.

The blood in Angel's body shot down to his cock when a sighing sound escaped her lips.

Unable to control himself a moment longer, his hands fell down her back and grasped the backs of her thighs, lifting her up slightly from the ground. He took a step forward, seating her on the edge of the writing desk.

He then pushed the hem of her sundress up her thighs. Buffy's fingers went to his waistband. His mouth veered from hers and went to her neck. A breath caught in Buffy's throat when he gently bit down on her neck with his blunt teeth.

Angel's hand reached under her dress and into her underwear as she unfastened the buttons of his pants.

Her moans were muffled by his mouth as his fingers entered her. She bit his bottom lip and linked her arms around his neck, drawing him closer.

Angel's free hand went inside his pants and freed himself. She scooted closer to the edge of the desk and sharply gasped, breaking the kiss and whipped her head to the side, biting her bottom lip when he entered her with a single thrust.

They stopped moving and looked into each other's eyes, having a silent conversation that they could only understand.

Then, after a long and still pause, Buffy released a breath as he began to move inside her.

The contents on the desk creaked and shook. Angel braced his hands onto the tabletop behind her as her ankles wrapped around the back of his thighs, keeping him close.

With one arm circled around his neck, Buffy grasped his chin with her other hand and kissed him deeply, which only added to his undoing.

They became near-frenzied as they moved against each other.

Buffy felt a pang of guilt, but the emotional desperation for the man, who wasn't her husband drove her mad with desire. She wanted him.

For the first time in years, Buffy felt alive.

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