Sunnydale Class of ’94, part 3
By Tango

“Do you get tired of it?” Angel asked between bites of Chinese takeout. He and Buffy were sitting on the living room couch, mostly because there was nowhere else to sit.

She shrugged, finishing her bite of fried rice. “The crowds, the screaming, the stalkers, yeah, that gets old. But this afternoon was fun. Big time validation. Hello my horrible high school career, take that.”

“You get stalkers?” Angel asked seriously.

She nodded, her expression very sober. “There have been a few,” she said quietly. “It’s not exactly something you want to dwell on, but it happens.”

“Any sticky situations?”

Buffy set her container down on the floor next to the couch and crossed her arms over her chest. “There was one guy,” she said. “Some whack job from Germany. He’d been arrested a few times before when I was touring Europe for trespassing and other minor violations. Anyway, he showed up at my place in L.A. one night. I didn’t see him. I actually wasn’t even there that night, but the security guards - that my manager just insisted I have - caught him on the grounds. He had this little backpack full of knives.” She shuddered.

“My god,” Angel gasped. “I had no idea.”

She shrugged. “Not exactly the kind of thing my manager likes to promote. Fearing for your life isn’t too glamorous.”

“Buffy, how can you live like that?”

“I’ve been asking myself that a lot lately,” she admitted. “I love writing songs and performing, but all the associated bullshit is getting pretty old. Some days I just wish I could go to the grocery store without it turning into a media circus.”

***

That night Buffy changed clothes and automatically climbed into bed with him without even trying to pretend she planned to sleep in her bed. She had abandoned the footie pajamas once more in favorite of tiny silk shorts and a baby tee. Her nightclothes kept getting smaller and smaller. When he saw her, his head damn near exploded.

“Buffy,” Angel groaned. “You can’t sleep in here.”

“Yes, I can,” she argued. “We both know you’re not going to kick me out.”

“Yes, I am,” he growled back. He pointed to the door, but looked at her. “In your own bed. Go.”

She laid back in his bed and stuck out her lower lip. “I don’t want to sleep alone, Angel. I like sleeping with you.”

With a snarl, he crouched over her and pressed his lips against hers. He waited for her to push or argue or slap him away. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck and moaned into his mouth, sucking greedily at his tongue.

Slowly, he lowered himself on top of her, resting his hips in the cradle of her thighs, ignoring the fact that she could definitely tell that he was aroused. He took his time, kissing her deeply, caressing her cheek, exploring her sweet mouth.

When they broke apart, they both were panting. Buffy’s legs were wrapped tightly around his waist as they rocked together through their clothes. Angel looked into her eyes. Instead of the appalled look of horror he expected to find, he saw passion and awakened lust.

She tugged to pull him against her lips again and he obeyed, taking the opportunity to cup one of the breasts that had been the object of his fantasies for years. He twisted her nipple between his fingers. She arched into his touch, tightening her legs around his waist.

Angel managed to pull back, panting harshly as he looked down at her. His voice was a harsh, raw whisper as he asked, "Do you really want this?"

"God, yes, Angel," she gasped, pulling him back down.

He wasn't going to question it anymore. He had wanted her for as long as he could remember, now he had her and he wasn't going to throw that away, even if it was just for one night. They gasped and groaned, tugging at each other's clothes until they could touch bare skin.

Angel's fingers found the hot, humid flesh between her legs, rubbing gently. Buffy gasped, throwing her head back. Angel took the opportunity and kissed down her neck, one hand cupped behind her head as the other explored her lush wetness. Her breathing was erratic, ragged as she parted her legs farther for him, her fingernails digging into his flesh as she bit down on her lower lip.

She was close, so close, but she needed more. "Want you," she demanded against his lips, tugging him over her body.

He complied immediately, blanketing her form with his own. His fingers parted her again and he suddenly stilled. "Fuck!" he cursed. Buffy looked up at him, her expression frantic and questioning. "I don’t have anything with me," he said.

She sighed in relief. "I'm on the Pill," she said, hooking her leg around his waist, trying to draw him closer.

Angel would have laughed if the situation had been any less urgent than it was. But he didn't laugh. He parted her and then he was inside her tight, hot body.

Buffy gasped, her fingernails biting into the flesh of his back as she whimpered his name, her legs tightening around his waist. He stroked in and out of her body, perspiration beaded on both of their skin as they strained together. He reached between them once more finding the source of her pleasure. Mere seconds later, she cried out, flexing her legs. Her inner muscles clenched around him, her entire body trembling with the force of her release. Intoxicated by her body, Angel cried out her name as he joined her in climax.

Treasuring the feel of her, he didn’t pull away from her, but stayed buried inside her body, holding her close. He kissed her throat and worked his way up to her lips, kissing her lightly at first and then more deeply. She gasped in surprise as he began moving inside her again already.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he whispered, moving in slow, unhurried strokes.

He loved the way her hips moved against his, the way she hung on to him and met his every movement. She was a thousand times better than he ever dreamed; a thousand times more responsive and passionate and goddamn heartbreakingly beautiful. He wasn’t sure if it was his brain playing tricks on him, his mind accepting what it wanted to see, but her body fit his perfectly. It was as if every contour of her was made to slip exactly against him.

When she came again, he held on, rocking inside her body patiently. Loving her protests and whimpers when he refused to hurry through her orgasms or his. He wouldn’t make the mistake crying out his love for her, but he planned to show her with every second of their lovemaking.

***

Buffy whimpered and Angel reached over and smacked the alarms until they stopped. Blissful silence descended once again and Angel groaned, cuddling Buffy closer. It was too damn early to be up. He and Buffy had spent the entire night making love, then dozing for a while, only to wake up and do it again. He knew he hadn't gotten more than two hours sleep. He wanted nothing more than to just lie in bed holding her, but unfortunately, he had to pay the bills.

"Nooooo," Buffy whined, reaching for him as he tried to ease out of bed.

Angel shushed her, peppering her face with kisses. "I have to go to work."

"Stay with me," she pouted.

"If I could, believe me there is nowhere I would rather be," he said truthfully.

***

Angel was almost late for work, but that wasn't his fault. Definitely wasn't his fault. Of her own volition, Buffy had joined him in the shower that morning. How on earth was he supposed to pass that up? So, they had made love in the shower until they were both wrinkled as prunes and bonelessly limp. He made it to school just before the first bell.

"Mr. Roarke?"

Angel didn't even bother looking up. "What Candace?"

"Is it true you're living with Buffy Summers?"

Angel looked up, his expression very unimpressed. "No, I am not living with Buffy Summers."

"That's not what my mom's lawyer said. He said that Mr. Britton who owns the grocery store made some deliveries to Buffy Summers at your house."

Angel frowned. He really didn't want to get into his personal life with his students, but if he didn't the gossip was going to be around town by that afternoon. "Buffy Summers owns the house I am renting," Angel clarified. "She is back for the school reunion. Rather than renting a hotel, she is staying at her own house." For good measure, Angel tacked on, "In her own room." He didn't feel the slightest bit of guilt lying.

***

When the lunch bell rang, Angel took off for home as fast as he could. With no mishaps he could have exactly thirty minutes before he had to return. He knew it was a mistake, but he couldn’t very well pretend to do lesson plans while he knew she was probably still in bed.

He groaned at the thought as he raced into the house, shedding his jacket as soon as he hit the door. He didn’t dwell on how it would look if someone saw how urgently he went back to the house everyone knew he was sharing with Buffy. It was a small town. He would deal with the rumors as they hit him.

He hurried up the stairs and looked at the neatly made bed with frustration. How could she awake and out already? Growling, he stalked back downstairs, slipped on his jacket and went back out the front door.

He took his time and even drove around town a little bit before heading back. He could already see that this was going to be a problem. He could care less about his classes or what the rest of his day entailed. All he could think about was the feel of her beneath him, around him, on top of him, against him – all night and all morning. No woman ever made him feel so invigorated. He should have been tired for what little sleep he’d had but sleep was the furthest thing from his mind.

He arrived in his classroom ten minutes early to find a paper bag sitting on his desk with “Mr. Roarke” written across it in bubbly, female script. Frowning, he opened the bag and found a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, an apple and a bag of chips. In the bottom was a note.

Mr. Roarke,

You forgot your lunch. I’m REALLY sorry I missed you.

Buffy

Above her name was the perfect impression of her lips in a light pink lipstick. He groaned. This was going to be a really, really long day.

***

Buffy had completely forgotten her invitation for Giles to come over for dinner, until Angel came home from school, looking scrumptious in his business attire, and informed her that they had to cook something. Buffy stuck out her lower lip and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his.

“If it were anyone else, I’d blow them off,” she whispered, nibbling along her jaw line. She slipped her hand down and caressed his groin teasingly. “I can’t lie to him about why I’d want to cancel,” Buffy explained moving down her lover’s neck. “Well, not well anyway.”

“I’ll cancel,” Angel growled, backing her against the counter.

“What’re you going to tell him?” she asked. She wrapped her legs around his waist and threw her head back when he lifted her shirt and began caressing her breasts. “Somehow ‘I don’t want to meet for dinner so I can fuck Buffy instead’ seems like it won’t go over well.”

“I could make it sound less…” Angel whispered against her skin as he teased her erect nipples with his tongue and teeth, “…carnal.”

“I doubt it,” Buffy whispered back, reaching down to unbuckle his belt. “Need you now,” she demanded throatily. “Been waiting all day.”

Angel grunted in agreement and immediately began working on freeing himself from his pants. Buffy watched him closely, almost in slow motion. She felt liberated and on fire, like a sexual predator. She had always been pretty and attracted men even before she became famous, but she always felt like she had to watch every thing she said. She felt like the wrong move would ruin the relationship or worse, her career. She never felt the freedom or the trust she knew with Angel. She never felt her body melting in response to the smallest movements of another person. She never wanted anyone more.

She pulled off her shirt and tossed it away, not caring where it landed on the kitchen floor, baring her breasts to him as he freed his thick, hard cock and pulled her closer to the edge of the counter. He flipped her skirt up impatiently and moaned as he saw that she was bare underneath.

She kissed him passionately, devouring him as she guided him into herself. The room shifted and their moods drained from anxious into electrified. They fed off each other’s need in a desperation neither had experienced before. Friendship, followed by estrangement, had morphed into something entirely different, something utterly new.

They trembled as they neared completion, panting into one another’s mouths. Buffy found herself on the floor, riding him, grinding against him. His hips pistoned up against her and his hands moved over her hips and breasts, urging her harder against him.

As they tipped over the edge, the world fell away until there was nothing but the movements of sweat slicked skin against sweat slicked skin, the guttural grunts of pleasure and the overwhelming knowledge that everything had shifted and nothing would ever be the same.

Buffy collapsed on top of Angel and breathed him in, mind blissfully blank. After a long moment, she lazily propped herself up to look at him. She smiled until she saw the serious look in his dark eyes.

“What?” she asked, eyes widening in fear that something was wrong.

“Buffy…I…” he started, cupping her face in his hands.

“W-what?” she repeated.

“Hello?” A voice echoed in the house. Buffy’s eyes, already widened nearly popped out of her head.

“Oh my God,” Buffy gasped, pulling away from Angel and scrambling to her feet to find her shirt.

“That’s not Giles,” Angel growled. He quickly located his pants and slipped into them, before shrugging into his shirt.

”Pet?” the voice called out again. Buffy bit her lower lip and looked at Angel for a moment before calling out, “Spike?”

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