PART IV
Je sais que c'est interdit. / I know that this is forbidden.

Buffy couldn't sleep. The air conditioning unit was broken. They were moving to a new place tomorrow, but tonight she couldn't sleep. She was hot and cramping. She wasn't sure what she was going to do once her period started. Living with Angel was … intense? Weird? Different? All of the above. Before her birthday, she had often fantasized about a life with him. Those fantasies included candlelight dinners, romantic music, and endless lovemaking. Reality was brutal. A level of awkwardness and sexual tension had quickly developed as the daily routines of bathing, dressing, and sleeping in a confined space had forced an unwelcome intimacy

She got out of bed and sat by the open window. The slight breeze did nothing for her. She thought about Angel lying half-naked on his bed. Buffy's nightshirt was sweaty and stuck to her skin. If Angel hadn't been there, she would have slept in the nude. A couple of months ago it would have been exciting. Now it was just dangerous. She knew Angel wanted her. And, if she were honest with herself, she wanted him too. They hadn't kissed since that morning at the mansion. Buffy could count on two hands how many times he had touched her after their first night in LA.

The cramps intensified and Buffy cursed at not taking Angel's offer to get her some Midol. She massaged her belly and shifted awkwardly on the windowsill. She hadn't had a period in months; this one was really going to hurt. Until her birthday, her cycles had been regular and she'd never been late. Buffy assumed it was the stress of dealing with Angelus. Pregnancy had never been an issue. Now sex is not an issue. She marveled at the irony. Angel was still the only one she wanted. And he's the only one I can't have. Was that true? Willow had not spent a lot of time researching the curse. Maybe Miss Calendar had altered it. She could call Willow. No, I can't.

Angel shifted in his sleep and flung one arm over the edge of the bed. It's a crime for him to look that good. Buffy picked at the scabs on her wrist. She remembered the look on his face just before he bit through her skin. It had hurt a little, but not as much as she thought it would. It certainly didn't feel like the Master's bite.

Buffy lifted the hair off her neck. Perhaps she should cut it. But Angel likes to run his fingers through it. That was almost reason enough to do it. She twisted her hair into a knot. That feels so much better. Then she twisted the ends of the shirt and tucked it through the front opening so it created a halter. It was one of Angel's shrunken silk shirts. She had ruined six of them before he forbade her from doing his laundry. She leaned her head against the window frame. There was just enough room for her to sit and stare at nothing.

*****

Angel rolled onto his side and opened his eyes. Buffy wasn't in her bed. A slight panic began to build. He listened and heard her faint humming from the window. He propped his head on a hand and stared at the sight before him. The streetlight fell on her blonde hair turning it white. Her shirt was knotted around her chest. He could vaguely see the strap of her thong. Beyond this, he saw lots of bare flesh on her toned arms, legs, and abdomen. The neverending erection in his pants throbbed in response. Hell would have been better than this.

"You okay?" he asked quietly.

She shrieked and fell off the windowsill. "What the hell is wrong with you? You can't clear your throat or cough or something to say 'Awake over here'?" She glared at him from the floor before righting herself. "I was hot."

"Oh." What else could he say? "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay. I can't sleep."

He watched her fold herself back into the window frame. "Can I help?"

"Only if you can be an air conditioner." Buffy fidgeted and tried to regain her prior position.

Angel got out of his bed and walked to the window. "Scoot up," he said. She gave him a quizzical look but moved over. He sat behind her and pulled her back against his chest. As his cool flesh made contact with her heated skin, she released an appreciative "aah". He slowly slid his hands down her arms and laced his fingers with hers. Then he wrapped his arms (and hers) around her waist and lifted her onto his lap.

"Mmmmmm," Buffy murmured. "Just like having a my-size Popsicle." She wriggled a bit until she was comfortable and leaned her head against his chest. "Have you ever had a Popsicle? My favourite is strawberry. Except it leaves my lips all red and then I kind of look like a clown."

"I think I'd like to see that."

Buffy bent her head to look at him. "You know, for a vampire, you have some weird tastes."

Angel laughed. "At least I don't taste like strawberry Popsicles." He had meant to say it teasingly. Somehow it came out soft and seductive.

"No," said Buffy angling her face. "You don't." She brushed her lips against his. "You taste like Angel," she whispered.

*****

The next thing she knew, her hands were tangling in his hair, holding his face, running up and down his bare back. His tongue swept the inside of her mouth like a tidal wave breaking through a barrier. His hands followed her curves and somehow caught on the knot in the shirt. Seconds later the shirt was on the floor and Angel's fingers sailed over her breasts and circled her nipples. When his thumbs finally stroked over the pebbled peaks, Buffy moaned into his mouth. He repeated the motion and felt her body writhe in his arms. He nibbled on her lips, her earlobes, and her graceful neck as she breathlessly chanted his name.

Buffy didn't emerge from this sweet cocoon of seduction until her back hit the mattress. Angel was swirling his tongue around her nipples, her navel, and everywhere in between. She couldn't tell where his mouth ended and his fingers began. The sensations all blurred together. The alarm rang when he snagged the waistband of her thong. "Angel, stop."

Amazingly he heard her. He removed his fingers and groaned before collapsing onto her warm belly. Their ragged breaths echoed in the room until she was the only one gasping. Silently he got up and retrieved her shirt. Angel did not look away as she slipped it back on. Buffy blushed under his intense stare.

"I'm not sorry," he said hoarsely. "I'll never be sorry for loving you or wanting you."

"I know." And she did. She wasn't sorry either.

******

Her period started the next day in typical "screw Buffy" fashion. She awoke to Angel's barely controlled growling. When she opened her eyes, he was pacing in front of the door in his game face. She was about to ask him what was wrong when she felt the wetness between her legs and caught a whiff of sweet copper. It was daylight. Angel looked like he was ready to climb the walls.

Buffy felt like crap. She didn't want to move except to get a hot water bottle and some Midol. She glanced at Angel. He was struggling to control his bloodlust. What if I just let him… she didn't dare finish this thought. Angel would surely wonder about her sanity. On the other hand … Stop it. Not going there.

She sat up and blearily rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. Her gaze wandered around the room. Two suitcases were open on Angel's bed. Both were almost filled with neatly packed clothes. Must have been desperate for a distraction. A duffel bag sat on the floor surrounded by Buffy's shoes and toiletry articles. She spied a box of tampons on the table and her toothbrush.

"Give me ten minutes, Angel."

He mutely nodded at her.

She heard his fist pound through the wall as she closed and locked the bathroom door.