A Bit of Rough
Author: Dark Star
Summary: Season 6 and Buffy is worried.
Thanks to Jo for the beta.
He watches her bend over the plant pot to smell the plant’s fragrance. The Hyperion has a small courtyard garden, and he likes to sit outside sometimes to take in the fragrance of the plants.
“Did I come back wrong?” she asks abruptly as she stands up.
It’s a strange question but he can tell she’s worried so he says carefully, “Why do you think you might have?”
“I don’t!” she says, a little too loudly. But then she adds, “I just… wondered what you thought. Vamps can tell about things like that, right…?”
“You came back fine.”
She’s pacing nervously and she says, “Are you sure? You can tell me if I haven’t. I-I’ll understand. Just tell me.”
“Buffy.” He’s moving toward her with that timeless grace of his, and he says, “What’s this about? Has somebody said something to you?”
She looks away briefly, and he knows he’s hit a sore spot. “Who says you have?”
She’s refusing to meet his eyes, and she whispers, “Spike.”
He might have guessed. What the hell has that annoying bastard been up to now? “He was lying, Buffy. There is nothing wrong with you.”
“But there is!” she bursts out. “Spike’s right! How could I… w-why did I let him…” She faces him and forces herself to say, “He did awful things to me and I didn’t try to stop him. I just kept going back for more and that can’t be right!”
Angel tries to keep the hurt out of his expression, but he’s not sure he succeeds. He hates that Buffy turned to Spike in her darkest hour, and he hates that Spike took advantage of her. He suspects that ‘awful things’ do not refer to fighting matches with him, either. He really doesn’t want to discuss this.
“What kind of awful things?”
Buffy shakes her head, “Doesn’t matter. I just wanted to see what you thought and it’s good that you think I’m okay, and that’s such a relief because, you know, I wasn’t sure. I think I’ll be getting back now, I’ve been gone longer than I said and I don’t want to worry Dawn…” She turns to escape and Angel’s hand falls onto her shoulder, cutting her nervous babbling off in mid-sentence.
“Buffy, stop.” He turns her gently round, and he’s saddened further by the glistening of unshed tears in her eyes. “You know you can ask me anything. Anything, Buffy. What is it you want to know?”
She shrugs, thinking only of a way to escape, but… she still needs to know.
“Am I me?”
Angel blinks at the odd question. “Of course you are. Who else would you be?”
Buffy looks down at her feet and mumbles, “I’m not, you know. What I do with Spike is… destructive. It’s painful and harsh, and I should hate it, but… I keep coming back.” She looks up at him then, and says anxiously, “What’s wrong with me?”
He doesn’t know what to say to that, and she looks so upset he just pulls her into his arms and holds her close. She’s trembling as she cuddles up to him, but she isn’t crying. It might be better for her if she was.
When he releases her, he takes her hand and leads her over to the bench. He realises that in order for him to help, he needs to know what she’s feeling.
“Tell me,” he says softly. “Tell me what Spike did.”
She’s looking at the floor again, and says, “I can’t.”
“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what we’re dealing with.”
“I don’t need help,” she says sulkily.
“You fucked Spike when you didn’t want to, and then wonder if you’re normal because of it. Do you want to tell me why you came to see me?”
“Because I wanted to!”
He sighs. “Talk to me.” She says nothing, and he searches for something to say. “What did Spike want to do with you?”
“Fuck.” She says reluctantly.
“Well, yeah. I can’t blame him for wanting that.” That earns him a glare, and he’s relieved to see that. “Buffy, I’m well aware of Spike’s tastes. He likes pain. He likes humiliation, and he likes to dominate. Am I getting close…?”
Her eyes are wide as she whispers yes.
“Right. Well, Spike uses words like acid. He’s really good at getting at somebody’s weak spot and using it against them. He’s got the slayer frightened and fawning at his feet? Of course he’s going to play on that. He’s got you where he wants you, but that doesn’t mean you have to stay there or that you’ve come back wrong.”
“But he can hit me!” She bursts out. At Angel’s incomprehension, she adds, “He shouldn’t be able to do that. The chip is supposed to stop him from hurting people, but he can hurt demons. He can hurt me, so that must mean I’m not human.”
“I don’t know the ins-and-outs of the chip,” he says carefully. “But I do know you. You are, without a doubt, one hundred percent human.”
“Then I don’t understand. How can he hurt me?”
“Because you want him to?” Angel guesses, holding up his hand to ward off her indignation. “Or perhaps just coming back has confused the chip, or Spike himself has found a way round it. I don’t know, Buffy.” He takes her hand. “You’ve been through so much in your life. Nobody expects you to be perfect. So what if you made a mistake? Seeking solace in another is hardly the worst thing you could ever do.”
“Not even if I liked it?” She asks him, and he gets the feeling she’s moved away from self pity and is trying to provoke him.
“Not even then.” He didn’t need to add that he hates the idea of her with Spike. “Buffy, you’re a sexual being. You’re beautiful and you’re young, and not only that, but you’re a slayer. That means you live your life on the edge. Is it so surprising that you like a little edge with your relationships too?”
“I guess not.” He can tell she isn’t quite convinced, but she looks happier than she did when she arrived at his door. She grins, “Must be why I like you.” He notices the emphasis on the word like, and understands what she doesn’t want to say. Her smile gets broader.
“I’m a sexual being?”
“Yes.” He’s not entirely sure where she’s going with this but he adds, “You do like sex, right?”
“Sometimes,” she says carefully.
“Not always?” It’s not until she winces that he realises what he’s said. “Why not?” he adds hastily.
“Most men treat me like I’m fragile, and that’s nice but…”
“Sometimes you like it a little rough?” he guesses.
“That’s all right, isn’t it?” she asks anxiously and the worried frown is back. “It doesn’t make me a freak?”
“No. It doesn’t make you wrong any more than the hundreds of other people who like it a little rough. I’m pretty sure some of your friends indulge in things that are not quite normal, too. Does that make them any less normal?”
She frowns. “No, of course not.” She thinks about what he said. “What do you think they do?” She guesses that Anya knows some pretty way-out stuff, but Willow? Surely not?
“Spanking, for one,” he says. “A little bondage probably.”
She looks disappointed. “Oh.” She’s shocked by the realisation that the things Angel refers to aren’t as interesting as she’d hoped for.
He finally voices the question he’s been trying not to think about. “What was it that Spike did that you liked?”
Buffy balks at the answer, but she knows Angel isn’t being judgemental. “I liked the whips and chains. And… sometimes we did it in a public place. Not in full view of everyone,” she adds hastily. “Just somewhere we might be discovered.”
“Anywhere in particular?” he asks, and he is wearing an odd expression.
“The Bronze, usually. Up on the balcony. Why?”
“There are nightclubs here,” he says casually. “Are you game?”
What? What are you saying? No! I’m not that sort of girl!
“Okay.” She stands. “I’ll go and get changed.”
She gets to the door before he calls her name. She turns curiously.
“Don’t wear any panties.”
The nightclub Angel takes her to is called Diablo. It’s a large building with lots of dark corners and stairs to upper levels. She follows Angel across the dance floor and she finds herself looking around her with curiosity, wondering which part of the building he has designs on. What does he want to do, anyway? Does he just want to touch her a bit? Something more? He pauses halfway across and she’s a bit breathless when she catches up with him. She’s on edge and nervous, and she’s pretty sure she’s insane for coming here with him. It’s Spike all over again.
He turns to face her and takes her arm. Surprised, Buffy blurts, “Here??”
“The dance floor is usually the best place,” he teases. “You want to dance, don’t you?
Buffy’s jaw drops. He wants to dance with her? Oh, wait – is that a euphemism for groping? “Okay,” she squeaks.
Angel takes her in his arms and she realises that the music is slow and sexy, and it feels good to be close to him. She looks up at him and finds he’s watching her. She grins at him, enjoying herself, and he gives a small smile back. She allows her head to fall against his chest and lets the music soothe her. This is nice.
Angel lowers his head so that his lips are close to her ear. “Did you take them off?” he asks.
“Yes,” she whispers back, though the noise in the club probably obscures the sound of her voice anyway. But immediately she feels brazen, a wanton woman, and she feels alive for the first time in months.
“Good.” His lips are nibbling at her ear and his hands are sliding along the fine material of her dress and moving down, where his hand is massaging the smooth outline of her bottom. Her head’s hammering and she’s vaguely aware that he’s manoeuvring her backwards towards one of the darker corners. Will it be dark enough there for them? Will people see? She suddenly wishes she’d bought a drink at the bar as her mouth has gone dry. What will happen if people see?
Before they get to the dark corner he suddenly turns her, so that her back is up against one of the white pillars. They’re still on the edge of the dance floor and she panics. He’s not going to fuck her here… is he? She starts to move toward the corner, but he has her pinned against the pillar with his body. He moves around so that he’s obscuring her from the rest of the dance floor but she’s frowning, because he’s in the wrong position for them to have sex. She looks up to ask him what he’s planning but his mouth comes down and imprisons hers, and she forgets what she was going to say and loses herself in the passionate kiss.
Angel’s hand is bunching up the fabric of her dress, pulling it gently so that one side only is sliding up and she can feel a draft against her left leg. Angel is hiding her from the dancing couples, and there is nobody on the left side of them, where her dress is now rucked up to her waist. Her head spins with all the sensations and thoughts going on. She knows that anyone could come upon them at any moment, and she’s a bit embarrassed that the whole of her left leg and hip are exposed to anyone. Angel’s insistent kisses are making her head swim, and his knee is pressing between her thighs to force her legs open, and his hand swiftly follows, burrowing into the wet curls and using his index finger to open her. She shivers, moaning round his tongue, her arms clinging to his neck to help her balance while he pushes three fingers inside her and fucks her hard with them.
She’s so turned on it takes mere moments to orgasm, but he doesn’t stop. She thinks he’s enjoying himself as he makes her come another four times and she wonders if anyone can hear her screams or is watching her twitch in ecstasy. The thought pushes her over the edge a fifth time and she shudders against Angel’s chest, secure in the knowledge that he is holding her steady.
Finally his fingers stop moving and he holds her tightly. “Had enough?”
God yes. She’s trembling so hard she can hardly stand. But… “I need you,” she says instead, and her voice sounds hoarse. “Fuck me, Angel.” He makes a sound halfway between a moan and a sigh and she feels him tense up, before looking around for somewhere quieter.
“Here.” She tells him, meeting his eyes. “Do it here.”
He hesitates, torn between his desire to lose himself in her, and his desire to protect her. Buffy decides for them, her hands fumbling with his zip, and he glances around them quickly, then slides her further around the pillar. He’s wearing a long jacket and he just has time to think it might shield them enough before she’s pulls his cock out and rubs him harshly. “Do it,” she says again.
Damn it, what man is going to ignore that? He’s bending his knees and pushing up into her before he has time to think about it. Christ, she’s hot and tight and her cunt is so wet, slippery and welcoming and his hands go under her bottom to pull her up, and brace her against the pillar. Danger is making her scent incredibly sexy and he’s trying to keep it as low key as possible but she’s mewling with pleasure and each thrust takes him a bit deeper and he wants it to last but he can’t hold back any longer. Buffy’s mouth finds his at that moment, swallowing his moans, and it thrills her that she can turn this big and formidable man into a trembling wreck.
Trembling, they put themselves back together. Buffy leans back against the pillar. “Think anyone noticed?”
“Let’s find out, shall we?” He takes her hand and they turn back toward the dance floor. At first glance it looks like they might have got away with it, but here and there are a few couples who refuse to meet their eyes, and Buffy grins.
She is still grinning when they make it outside the club and into the alley. Angel knows she has to get back to Sunnydale tonight, but… she didn’t know what to say to him. What do you say to somebody who has just screwed you on the dance floor and given you incredible orgasms?
They stand awkwardly in silence for several minutes. Finally, Buffy says, “Do you know any more good clubs?”
“Yes,” he responds. “Do you want to visit them?”
She reaches up to kiss him gently. “Save them for my next visit. We’ll do the rough together. What do you think?”
“I think,” he says gently, returning her kiss, “That you’d better not be too long coming back.”
Midnight Roses © 2009 by Dark Star. Stories are copyrighted to their respective authors.
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