Epilogue: The Cypress Tree

"We should call her Ciara," Buffy murmured, leaning her head back against Angel's shoulder.

The sun was setting on their little vineyard, long shadows stretching out from the horizon to meet them where they sat idly underneath the cypress tree. Angel cradled her more snugly between his thighs, dropping his gaze to her swollen belly. He ran a palm over her distended stomach, biting her shoulder lightly as he smiled in joy and pride.

"She'll look just like her mother. Golden and sunny."

"Or willowy, and dark, like her father."

He kissed her neck reverently, protectively covering their child from the creeping shadows. Seven seasons had passed from the day that they had married here under this tree with their parents as witnesses to the priest's words that bound them as man and wife. They made love a thousand times, each time like the first, allowing him to explore her ever changing body.

The pregnancy made her even more beautiful to him, and he showed her that when she first started to grow shy from the changes her body made. Angel's hands drifted upward, cupping her swollen tender breasts, flicking his thumbs over her distended nipples, delighting in her sharp moan.

"Angel," Buffy breathed, wrapping her hands over his, her eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure roared in her veins.

He licked her neck, shifting his nose under her ear to smell her sweet scent. Angel purred contentedly into her ear, "What if our baby's a boy? What do we name him then?"

"Liam," she whispered, her hands falling away from his to rest on his hard thighs. "So he'll always be protective and caring."

"Or Riain, for king of all he sees… our vineyard." Angel continued softly, pressing his erection into her bottom.

"We'll debate this later," Buffy added, tenderly cupping him in her hand, as she arched her head backward to angle in for another kiss.

Angel gave her one, slowly exploring every nuance of her mouth as she reciprocated, outlining all the facets of his own. His right hand caressed her rounded tummy through her skirts. He needed her with everything in him, encircling her with his arms- Angel stood silently, Buffy's arms twined around his neck, as he licked her lips, and dueled with her darting tongue.

"Let's go inside my love," he moaned against her mouth, "I want to make love to you."

"Sure you're not going inside because of that batch of dumplings I made are you?" she teased lightly, resting her head against his shoulder, a smile lingering on her lips.

Angel laughed, shaking his head in denial. "I know you complain about my sweet tooth eating us out of the desserts you make, but the only thing sweet I want right now is my wife."

The End.