BA Pulitizer Prize Award Winner for Best B/A Fluff/Smut Story

His Girl Award Winner, First Place

Always Awards nominee

Calling in Sick

By Tango

DISCLAIMER: Nope. I still don't own them.
SPOILERS: PWP, CWC. S2. Angel didn't lose his soul after Innocence.

FEEDBACK: Please? Pretty please with naked Angel on top? *BG* (Really yummy feedback gets whipped cream too.)

RATING: NC-17 - This is NOTHING but SMUT. Repeat: This is a PWP fic. Be advised. If you are underage, please do not read this. Thank you.

AN: Who was it that asked me to write a PWP, CWC fic? I can’t remember, but this one’s for you. *G* Funny, that yesterday, I realized I hadn’t seen a PWP for a long time, so I started this one and then Copper posted hers. LOL. Anyway, just for the record, this is the first fic I’ve written at work. I feel a little guilty and the constantly checking to see if I’m about to get caught has definitely worked into the flow of this one. I needed some fluff, so I hope you like.


He was sleeping. It was only a few minutes past dawn and Angel was sleeping deeply like the vampire he was, looking almost dead. If she didn't love him so much, she might be slightly put off by the fact that he didn't move at all - no breathing, no flickering under his eyelids, no turning over. Nothing.

She crept over to his bedside and brushed off the slight guilt for lying to Giles. It wasn't like she didn't deserve a break after everything that had happened with the Judge and her birthday. Who cared that she wasn't actually sick? She was exhausted from so little sleep and a lot more Slaying than usual. Every muscle in her body hurt. That should count for something, shouldn't it?

Angel was so beautiful, lying there on his back with part of his chest peeking out from the crimson blanket. She slid the blanket away ever so slowly, watching in girlish delight as his muscular body was bared to her eyes, inch by gorgeous, vampiric inch. She nearly pouted when she saw he was wearing boxers and then at the same time was a little thankful. They had only made love once and she wasn't sure just how comfortable she was just yet to his complete nakedness. Or her own for that matter.

She shed her own clothes, leaving on her bra and panties, and crawled in beside him, resting her head on his cool chest. After they made love the first and only time, she found that she had slumbered feeling safe and protected for only time since she had been called. She didn't even know how light her sleep had been until she was able to sleep in his strong arms. Ever since that night, she craved that sort of rest again. Snuggling in, she tossed her leg over his and closed her eyes. As if he were a salve for her aching body, she fell immediately asleep, wrapped around her undead lover.


Angel was awakened by the warmth that surrounded him. Although it was a very comfortable feeling, it was foreign to the vampire. He blinked awake as her scent reached his nostrils and looked down to find his tiny, beautiful Slayer laying half on top of him and half dressed. He closed his eyes and pulled her closer, enjoying the feel of her warm, lithe body pressed up against his and the sound of her breathing, which was puffing gently across his bare chest. He had to hold in a groan of frustration as he realized the day and time. As much as he hated the idea of making her go when he'd only just realized she was there, she was really late for school.

"Buffy," he whispered, brushing his lips over her silky blonde head, "Wake up, love."

"Angel," she murmured, barely opening her mouth to eject his name. Her little fingers smoothed over his chest and she rubbed her face lightly against his cool skin before falling back asleep.

"Baby, you have to get up. You're missing school," he managed throatily as he snuck a glance over her body and pulled her even more tightly against him. He was tempted to conveniently forget there was school today at all.

"Not going," she mumbled, snuggling in against him again and driving him to distraction. She was so cute when she was sleeping.

"You have to go, love," he said, shaking her lightly. He looked down to see that she made no move to leave at all, so he scooted over a little bit and threatened, "I'm going to get up if you don’t."

"Noooo," she groaned, shifting to place her entire body on top of his, as if her slight weight could actually keep him there. He barely understood her when she spoke again, "I called in sick. Need Angel, not school."

"You're sick?" he running his hands over her body in search for some sort of wound or illness, as if he would be able to feel it if she were not well.

"Not sick. Need a day off," Buffy moaned, nearly purring under his questing hands, "Told Giles I wasn't going to school today."

"Buffy," Angel admonished, trying to think of a reason why she should go, but was coming up empty. Why shouldn't she have a day off?

"Dreamt about you last night," she whispered, moving her hands absently over his arms and chest.

"Really?" he whispered, his voice coated with need, "What happened?"

"In my dream, I was alone in my bedroom. It was late at night and all I wanted was for you to be there but you weren't," she said, blinking her eyes open to finally look at him. She met his gaze and then kissed him gently. His cool mouth felt soothing to her and she cooed into his mouth.

"Uh-huh," he said, plucking another sweet taste of her lips before moving down to her neck.

"I was thinking about you...the way you touched me when we made love. I reached underneath my shirt and touched my breasts. My nipples were puckered up, tight and hard. If I closed my eyes, I could almost feel your mouth, licking them, sucking them...biting them,” she continued, before rolling over and pulling him on top of her. She loved the feel of his weight on her, pressing her into the mattress, covering her whole body with his.

Angel watched her face as she spoke and she kept her eyes closed, unable to meet his lustful stare as she spoke, remembering her dream. He began tracing the tops of her breasts with his fingertips, watching her nipples rise beneath the white lace. Not moving the material, he sucked one dusky pleasure point into his mouth, lapping at her flesh through the lace.

"What else happened?" he asked, before moving to the other breast.

"I reached into my pajama bottoms," she whispered, swallowing hard and keeping her eyes closed as he manipulated her nipples, "And I was so wet. I was dripping, Angel. I pushed my fingers...inside and it was slick and warm."

He groaned at her words and smelled her arousal springing forth as she spoke, as if her body were moving on cue to the memory of her dream. Unable to stop himself, he slid a hand down her belly, under her panties and caressed her inner thighs, before tracing her femininity.

"I didn’t want to touch myself though. I wanted you, so I went to the window and climbed out," she whispered, "Knowing I had to find you. I had to feel you there instead of me. I thought I was coming here, to your apartment, but I went to school."

"In your pajamas?" he asked, slowly caressing her outer lips with his fingers before moving inside to dip into her waiting heat.

"No," she answered, trying to keep her voice steady as he touched her in slow motion, not touching her most sensitive spots, just gliding his fingers over her, "I was dressed when I got there, wearing a skirt and blouse. It's my little maroon one that's really short and that white top that’s a tad too tight. Do you know that outfit?"

"God yes," he moaned, slipping a finger inside her and smiling as her thighs fell apart to give him better access. She lifted her hips a little as he pushed inside her, letting him know she wanted more. He tried to focus on her words but they only made his cock harder. He was throbbing as he visualized her in that little bitty skirt she had worn once on patrol. How could he forget the frequent flashes of her white silk panties appearing as she slew vamps?

"It was night," she said, "And everyone was there researching some big bad in the library. I knew before I walked inside that you were already there, waiting for me. I felt you there like I always do. All I could hear was my own heart pounding in my chest as I casually crossed the room. I sat down at the table next to you and opened a book, trying to read. I didn't even know what I was supposed to be looking up but it didn't matter because I couldn't even see the words on the pages. I wanted you so badly. I turned and snuck a peek of you and I could see in your eyes that you knew I was aroused. You hadn’t even touched me yet but you knew."

"I can smell you," he forced out, pushing a second finger into her tight passage, "I breathe you in and you smell like honeysuckle and vanilla. It's intoxicating."

"In my dream, you could and I knew it," she whispered, arching against his lovely intrusion of her body. He was moving in and out, twisting and turning his fingers so…very….slowly. He peppered kisses over her chest and torso and face as she spoke. She moved her hands over every part of his skin she could reach, warming him, spreading love over his skin like a blanket.

"I got up and pretended that I needed a new book, going deep into the stacks to get it,” she panted, aroused from him and the memory. As she struggled to continue, she wondered how much of the dream he would hear before she begged him to make love to her again, “You came up behind me, pressing against me from behind. I could feel that you were hard and it made me wetter. You slipped your hands under my shirt and covered my breasts with your hands. I love your hands, have I ever told you that?"

"No," he said, swiping his thumb over her clit and causing her body to tremble.

"I love them," she whispered, "They're so large and strong. I love the way you touch me."

"I love you," he whispered back, taking the opportunity to kiss her. Her lips were always so soft, so smooth and he wondered for the millionth time since he first saw her how she could possibly be real. He was torn between wanting more of the dream and less of it so he could finally be inside her.

"I love you too," she whimpered, as he dragged her lacy bra aside to have access to her straining nipples.

"Tell me more," he said, pressing against her thigh, letting her know by the jutting silk of his boxes just how much he wanted her.

"You were twisting my nipples so hard between your fingers. It was all I could do not to scream your name because I ready was panting for you and you whispered in my ear," she said, "You told me you knew how wet I was. You said you loved the smell of my wet pussy, dripping just for you. And then you reached down, lift my skirt and ripped my panties off. I felt so naked in that short, short skirt. I told you that and you said you already knew."

With that the real Angel, the nondream Angel slipped his fingers out of her and ripped her panties off. He spread her legs wider and smoothed his hands along her inner thighs, "Then what?"

"Then you pressed me against the wall," she said, as he dipped down and began circling her clit with his tongue in slow, torturous circles, "and you unzipped your pants. And then..."

"Then what?" he said, sliding one large hand up her torso to breasts, finding a nipple and twisting it between his fingers as he had before. He was buried happily between her thighs, lapping away at her honeyed juices.

“I woke up,” she gasped, threading her fingers through his hair and pulling him more tightly against her aching core, “I woke up and it was day.”

“So you came here?” he asked, looking up at her and smoothing his lips into a wide, Cheshire cat grin.

“Yes,” she said, tugging his shoulders until he starting making his way back up her body. She was trembling beneath him and urgently wanted him inside her, but he was enjoying her little visit entirely too much to rush it. She whimpered in protest and writhed beneath him, but he just smiled against her skin. Languidly, he kissed his way up, brushing his lips over every inch of
skin on the way.

“Angel,” she begged, “please!

“What’s the matter, baby?” he asked innocently, licking along her clavicle and then kissing the creamy skin surrounding her delicate throat.

“Need you,” she answered, gripping his broad shoulders, “Now.”

“Patience, love,” he whispered. He knew that was going to be difficult when she reached down and ripped his boxers away. Smiling, slow like molasses and undaunted by her movement, he traced her with the tip of his throbbing cock. He swallowed a growl as his sex touched hers for the first time. He didn’t want to be moving nearly as slowly as he was, but besides the fact
that he enjoyed teasing her, he knew she was still tender from the first time they made love. As much as she wanted him, he knew it was necessary to move slowly.

“No,” she rebuffed with the stubborn voice of a little girl, “Need you, Angel.”

He released a shattered moan as he finally entered her and felt her inner muscles stretching around him, accommodating his girth. The moment she
arched up, he slipped his hands under her narrow bottom. Clutching her in his hands, he pulled her up, moving deeper inside her with every thrust.

“Angel,” she gasped in a voice filled with true love and coated with lust. Her voice gasping his name like that would be one thing he would remember for the rest of his existence. Now that he had his true mate, he knew that he would not live forever. The moment his little Slayer died, he would be scattered over her grave the following morning, coating her and protecting her with his dust. It was a strange feeling now after all this time to have a little bit of certainty.

“I love you, Buffy,” he said as she began approaching climax. A week ago, he never would have thought he would ever been able to make love to her and now he was daring to dream of a future…with happiness…with his Slayer.

“I love you too,” she gasped, trying to breathe as his fingers found the bundle of nerves waiting for his touch. Seconds later, she screamed out her climax. He buried his face in her neck, his face changing as she dug her nails into his back, drawing his blood.

He turned his face away as he tried to calm himself, willing the demon to return to hiding. He had stopped moving but was still buried inside her, pulsing and waiting. Sensing his trepidation, she framed his face with her small hands and urged him to look at her. She caressed the ridges on his face and began kissing the path her fingertips had traveled.

“There’s nothing about you that revolts me,” she said, gently meeting his golden eyes boldly, “I know you would never hurt me. I love you, which means this face and these eyes, Angel. Don’t turn away from me. Ever.”

“Buffy,” he started, forming her name around his fangs and feeling as if it were sacrilege, “I-“

“Love you,” she finished sternly, leaving no room for further argument.

“Yes,” he answered, smiling around his sharp canines. With that, she flipped them, and perched there, pressing her hands on his broad chest. Taking the dominate position and urged on by the appearance of his demon, she slammed down on him, forcing him to rise up to meet her. Knowing he was teetering on the edge, he slipped his hand between them manipulated her clit once more. Seconds later, she came and growling out her name, he followed.

“That was neat,” she quipped, kissing his now human face with a sated smile.

“Neat?” he echoed.

“Yeah,” she said, “When you changed, I could feel it against my neck. When you growl, it always turns me on, but feeling you turn at the same time…I nearly came right then.”

“It turns you on when I growl?” he asked incredulously.

“It turns me on when you do almost anything,” she whispered, tracing his chest with her fingertips, “except leave.”

“Well, that’ll never happen,” he promised.

“Good,” she said, closing her eyes. A peaceful, happy silence shrouded the room for a few moments as the lovers laid holding each other and caressing glowing skin until Angel, still stuck in the conversation that had just passed, asked, “It really turns you on when I growl?”


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