The Deal, part 5

By Tango

Buffy woke up the next morning in a jumble of limbs. She and Angelus had screwed the night away and passed out from sheer exhaustion. Angelus couldn’t have had more than two or three hours of sleep the previous night, so how he had the energy to keep it up half the night was beyond her.

She blinked open her eyes, yawning. She still had a manacle on one wrist, which was no longer connected to the bed. Her collar was still intact but the leash wasn’t. It was hanging from the bedpost at the foot of the bed.

She was half lying on top of Angelus and he was holding her against him, which was a good thing, because they were so crooked on the bed and so close to the edge that without him holding her, she’d probably be on the floor. There was no longer a blanket on the bed. The top sheet was twisted around them like some black silk snake and the fitted sheet was crawling off the top right hand corner of the bed. She was using Angelus as a pillow and he had none.

She had always thought of herself as a good girl, but after the gymnastics of the night before, she was forced to reconsider her position. She hated to admit it, but even her hatred of Angelus was waning. Sure, he was most definitely the anti-Christ. He was unkind a great deal of the time and certainly unusual, but she had an inkling that maybe he wasn’t as horrible as she had thought. He always took her pleasure into account even when he was being demanding and mean spirited. He could have just done whatever he wanted the night before. He didn’t have to give her a safety word. In fact, she didn’t even know about safety words before he had told her. He waited until she wanted him. Sure, he teased and tormented her against her will, whipped her ass until it was red and sore, but he had gotten her permission to enter her and he had given her every opportunity to back out. He didn’t just want to force sex on her. Well, he did, but he wanted her with him every step of the way. He fucked like a freight train and she had never experienced anything like sex with him.

“Godamn,” he groaned, sliding both of them further onto the bed. He turned over on his side and urged her to do the same before burying his nose in the nape of her neck. Gods, he loved her scent, the feel of her silky skin, the timbre of her voice – everything. If only there was a way to hold on to her forever.

“Morning,” she said sleepily, snuggling in closer to him.

He caressed her hip, slowly sliding his hand along her skin. It was at that moment when she was purring with contentment, cuddled up against him, willing to give him whatever he wanted right then, it was at that moment, when he realized he was in love with her. He didn’t just want her or lust after her. He was truly in love with her. He froze. His hand stopped mid-motion on her flesh and just quickly, he kept going, but his mind was reeling.

She hadn’t been in his bed for more than a few days and already he was pussy-whipped and completely, utterly, undeniably in love with her. He scowled, jerking his arm out from under her head and sliding out of bed. He had worshipped her from afar for years. He knew he would do anything to be with her, but when he finally had her, she defied all logic, she destroyed every expectation and consumed him with a ferocious passion. He wasn’t supposed to love her godamn it. It wasn’t supposed to work that way.

“Angelus?” she said, making his name the question.

“I have a meeting. I need to shower,” he growled heading for the bathroom and slamming the door closed. He absolutely refused to let love get the best of him.


He made it until about 11 AM before he went to Buffy’s gallery. Anya smiled brightly at him when he entered as she did with anyone who looked like they could afford even a small painting, but it faded as he passed her by, heading straight into Buffy’s office.

She was sitting at her computer, engrossed in whatever she was doing and he stood there for a moment, staring at her. As usual, she looked beautiful. Her hair was swept up, leaving her neck unadorned. He could see a mark on her neck leftover from the previous evening and he wondered if she had even noticed it. He loved her slender throat. It made her look even more delicate than she already was. He felt like biting her again.

Quietly, he stepped inside and shut the door behind him. Only then, did she look up at him. A frown immediately appeared on her lips.

“What do you want?” she asked, steering her eyes back to her computer.

“A nice, slow fuck,” he answered. “What do you think I want?”

“I know how you enjoy lunch dates, Angelus,” she said with a sigh, “but I don’t have time for that today.”

“You will make time. I’m primary and this little gallery is secondary.”

“We need to talk about when it’s not okay to bug me,” she grouched. She turned back to her computer again, typing fast as if she was trying to finish one last thing before he made her stop. She had a lot to do. A bundle of work had been piling up without her employees to help her out. Her fingers flew over the keys and suddenly her screen went blank. She blinked up at him. He smiled, holding up the plug to her power strip.

“You asshole,” she sneered, getting to her feet. “I didn’t have that last part saved and now I’m going to have to do it all over-“

He pulled her against him and kissed her hard on the mouth, silencing her words. Just suddenly, he spun her around and bent her over her desk. He pressed her face against the green ink blotter with one hand and raised her skirt with the other, ripping her panties away. The silk ripped loudly and he tossed them over his shoulder.

“You’ll fuck when I say you fuck,” he snarled snaking a hand between her thighs. He leaned in and whispered in her ear. “You’ll suck when I tell you to suck and when I want you licking my balls, you’ll do that too.”

“Your parents must be so proud,” she snapped back, struggling not to writhe against the manipulation of those talented fingers.

“I don’t have parents,” he said, spreading her legs wider apart, rubbing his hands slowly up and down her inner thighs.

“Explains a lot,” she shot back, pressing her hands against the desk. “Just get it over with,” she managed to croak. “I have a lot to do today.”

She immediately regretted her words as he slowed down to a crawl. He had planned to take his time, but the thought of her wanting to plug that stupid computer back in rather than please him was infuriating. He leaned over her and picked up the phone, dialing Harmony’s number by heart.

“Harm,” he said brusquely, “It’s Angel. Cancel my afternoon appointments. I have a pressing issue to take care of.”

When he hung up the phone, she was already red with fury. “Why do you have to be such a complete dick all the time?” she moaned.

“Cause I’m good at it,” he answered, knowing that she couldn’t see his smile, but definitely hear it in his teasing voice. He sat down in her chair and scooted up, spreading her open obscenely from behind. She flushed red. The door wasn’t locked and Anya could just stroll in at any moment and here she was wide open and sopping wet for a man she despised. He leaned in and licked her long and hard and slow.

He was very, very good at it.


That night, after a full afternoon of office romance, Buffy was exhausted. Angelus was working late at the office catching up on a few things he’d missed during their rendezvous and she went up to bed, slipping into her favorite sweatpants and t-shirt. Flopping on the bed, she slid in between the cool sheets and fell instantly asleep.

She slept hard, her mind blissfully filled with strange, meaningless images that she wouldn’t remember in the morning. At one point, a maid came in and apologized profusely for waking her up before asking if she wanted dinner. She declined groggily and fell to sleep again almost immediately, her body and mind completely worn out from giving so much attention to her new employer.

Sometime later, when the room was pitch dark, she woke to the covers being yanked away. Angelus stood over her, his nude body highlighted by the moon streaming in through his large bedroom windows. He pounced like some great cat, pausing on all fours over her supine form. Even naked, he was large and imposing.

He fingered the hem of her shirt, almost lovingly, before ripping it, leaving it in tatters, still hanging from her arms. She gasped and moved back against her pillows. Before she had a chance to say anything, he was already sliding his hands down her bare belly to her sweatpants.

“Wait!” she cried out, scrambling out of them, sweeping her panties off with them and tossing them on the floor. “They’re my favorite. Don’t ruin them.”

“Every time you wear clothes to my bed, I’m going to rip them off of you,” he growled, still hovering over her.

“Couldn’t you just have told me that before?” she snarled. “Why is everything so difficult with you? I really liked that shirt!”

He couldn’t help but laugh as he settled against her. Only Buffy would be that angry over a worn out t-shirt. He had seen the dreaded thing before. It was an old high school shirt with the faded lettering “Sunnydale High” on it. It had been washed so many times that it was no longer maroon, but a deep pink. There was a hole just to the left of her belly button. It was atrocious, but apparently, it had some sentimental value.


The following morning, Angelus was sitting in his office, preparing for his next meeting when Harmony walked in looked less than happy. In fact, she seemed to be in a genuine pout.

He rolled his eyes. “What’s the matter, Harmony?”

She placed a piece of paper before him on his desk and tapped it with a frosted pink fingernail. Angelus looked down. It was an expense report. Bless Buffy’s little penny-pinching heart, she was charging him for the dress he had burned, the pair of panties he had taken from her in the restaurant, the pair he ripped in her office and the t-shirt he destroyed last night. He couldn’t help it. He started laughing.

Harmony started whining. “You don’t pay for my clothes,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Even that time I spilled toner on my Versace sheath dress, you didn’t even give me a bonus to pay for it.”

“Buffy has a different job description than you,” he said, still chuckling.

“*She’s* your personal assistant,” Harmony argued. “*I’m* your personal assistant. It’s the same job! I want clothes. I don’t want clothes this cheap, but I do want clothes!”

“Trust me when I tell you,” Angelus answered, “it is not the same job.”

When Harmony finally left his office, still amused, he called Buffy and demanded that she meet him at the office. After waiting an hour, he realized he hadn’t given her a time to be there. He smiled as he stared out of the high-rise window of his office. She was never boring, his little Buffy.

“You rang, your highness?” she asked, voice flat.

“Are you finally learning your place?” he asked, turning to face her.

“Not likely,” she answered. “I take it, you got my expense report and you’ve called me so you can pay me?”

“No, I called you because giving you money makes my cock hard,” he answered, strolling to his desk.

“And just when I thought you couldn’t be more of an ass,” she said, but his taunts were beginning to have less of an effect and she didn’t sound nearly as angry as she normally did.

“Well, if I wanted to be an ass, I could bring up the fact that that price tag you put on that t-shirt didn’t include the obvious depreciation value it should have,” he said, grinning at her outrage.

“You pay replacement value when you ruin my clothes,” she huffed.

“Fine,” he said. “Now there’s a special cubby hole under my desk waiting for you.”

“Asshole,” she grumbled as she crawled underneath his desk with obvious reluctance. She reached up to undo his pants when the doors slammed open. He grabbed her hands and pushed them under the desk and then gently pushed her back, letting her know he didn’t want her to move.

“You blew it up!” a male voice shouted, sounding furious.

“Yes,” Angelus said smoothly. “I bought it and then I had it imploded.”

“You had no right!” A fist slammed on the desk and Buffy jumped in start, nearly hitting her head. “Now it looks like I ratted them out!”

“I had every right,” Angelus answered. Buffy watched his hand gripping the chair tightly as if trying to maintain control. “And I’ll do it again and again until there’s no one left to help you fuck up your life.”

“You’re nothing to me,” the voice sneered.

“I know,” Angelus answered, his voice soft and pained. Buffy peered up at him in shock. It was the most real emotion she had ever seen on his face.

The doors slammed as the person exited and Angelus scooted his chair back, giving Buffy room to crawl out.

“Who was that?” Buffy asked, stunned.

“Get out,” Angelus said, his voice still soft and pained.

“Angelus…” Buffy said quietly.

“Get out!” he roared. She scrambled to her feet and left, almost running to get away.


Angelus didn’t come home from work that night until very late and when he did, he found Buffy asleep on the couch in the Great Room. The television was on some infomercial. He picked up the remote control and turned it off, completely unconcerned about Chuck Norris’ newest exercise machine.

Buffy was curled into a little ball, one of her hands curled by the side of her face. He had been trying to deny loving her as much possible, but was forced to admit it to himself at last. Other women had lost their appeal. Even business was beginning to bore him. He had planned this whole affair out from beginning to end. He wanted to torment her, see the look on her face when she saw him screwing other women in the bed they slept in together. He had wanted to destroy her and now he found that his cruelty lacked the flavor it once had.

He didn’t want to hurt her. Not anymore. All the pain in his life, all the shit he had been forced to go through to get where he was, all the shattered dreams that littered his path to the top added up to less than nothing when she looked into his eyes.

As much as he wanted to believe in happily ever after, however, he couldn’t. He’d seen what love did to people and he knew deep in his heart that Buffy could never love someone like him. He’d finish this year with her, play his little games and then let her go. If he had anything to say about it, she would never know the truth.

He leaned down and scooped her into his arms gently, but she woke.

“Angelus?” she said, her voice thick with sleep.

“Yes, it’s me, Buffy,” he whispered, kissing her brow.

“Have you been drinking?” she asked, laying her cheek against his chest.

“Shhh,” he said. “Go back to sleep.”

Still half asleep, she closed her eyes and was snoring before he reached the steps.