Kissed By An Angel
By Shakespeare's Girl
A/N: Timeline of BtVS and AtS seasons 4 and 1 are altered to allow for Angel being in Sunnydale two or three weeks after Xander comes back from his road trip. If the rest of this craziness doesn't explain itself, I did something wrong.
War is hell. Relationships aren't much better but they have the benefit of kissing.
War and relationships are a lot alike. Messy, ugly, sweaty, and damn hard work. Relationships, however, have one thing that makes them better by far than any war will ever be. Relationships have kissing. And kissing is half the point of doing anything in this life anymore. Especially kissing him. We've had so many bumps in our relationship, I can barely remember a time when we weren't fighting something, someone, even ourselves, just to stay with each other. But through it all, I've always known that one kiss from him could make the world disappear and everything seem shiny and new and good and right. And whenever I think about that, I think about the night when we first kissed.
The first time I kissed him, I was barely back from The Fabulous Ladies Night Club and my sensational debut as a stripper. I was brooding, much like he does, in my basement, bored out of my skull, wishing with half my mind I hadn't come back and with the other half that I'd never left in the first place, and generally being gloomy. Finally I couldn't stand it. I had to get out. So I got up off my couch, walked to my closet and reached far into the back to find The Box. That wooden box hides so much more now than I ever thought it would, but back then, all it held was a pair of indecently tight leather pants, a mesh shirt and some body jewelry that at that point I didn't want to own up to having.
I pulled out The Box and opened it, and got myself ready. I held off on the mesh, as Sunnydale is nowhere near as loose about things like that as they try to say they are, but I did find myself putting the silver hoops back into my various piercings. Nipples--I'd even shocked myself with those--ears, eyebrow, and a tongue stud later I glimmered in the overhead light and wished with all my heart I was back in Oxnard. Because there, I could just shove on the mesh and not worry about it. No one would look twice at the metal. No one would look twice at me. Here, I was vamp food and I knew it. The metal, the obvious need to be noticed, the hard-on I was getting just thinking about meeting a vampire... One vampire in particular came to mind, and I couldn't stop a sigh at the thought of those eyes...those lips...and suddenly I wondered if he was even here anymore, or if he'd left, like he'd told Buffy he would.
Shrugging, I reached into my closet again and managed to find a skin tight wife-beater to wear over my chest, hiding at least the nipple rings. I still got a shock every time I thought of those, even though they'd been there since sometime during highschool...probably since that drunken night on my eighteenth birthday that I remember pretty much nothing of except that for some reason I spent it with Oz and a friend or two of his from Dingoes Ate My Baby, and that somewhere between beers and jello shots, there had been a game of pick a piece of paper from the hat and then we all go to the local tattoo parlor and get things pierced. Whatever was on the paper, I guess. All I know is that I was extremely grateful I wasn't the guy who'd pulled "cock" from the hat. Or maybe it was a mug, I really can't remember that clearly. And you know, I think "cock" guy might have been Oz, because I remember him being incredibly vocal about something that night.
But I digress. I was finally dressed, shirt rubbing against nipple rings that hadn't been in since I'd gotten back, and ready to go dance until my feet wanted to fall off.
I decided to hit the Bronze first, for old time's sake, and wasn't disappointed--or surprised--to find Dingoes playing. I made my way onto the dance floor, and the beat just took me. If Willow had thought that dance Buffy and I did when she came back from LA that one time was sexy, she would have spontaneously combusted at the moves I was throwing out. Not to mention the pheremones. One thing I'd gotten used to in Oxnard? Constant arousal and pretty much constant offers to "take care of that problem" from various people. And for the record, they weren't all women. And I didn't say no to very many of them. Not after the first week, anyway.
I was leaking sexual frustration, because here I was, falling back into my old role, with nothing I could do about it but grit my teeth and sneak out at night to grind against--oh god. He was here. And I was grinding against him. And he was grinding back. And damn but that was good.
"Xander," he said, and I grinned, trying not to let on that I wanted to push him against the wall and do who knew what all to his body.
"Angel," I replied.
"You smell like..." He didn't finish, almost as if he was afraid to say it. I waited. Just as he was about to change the subject, I finished for him.
"I smell like sex."
Angel moaned. "Where have you been?"
I must really smell good if the vampire I called "deadboy" and generally annoyed was asking me civil questions. "Mostly? The Fabulous Ladies Night Club in Oxnard."
Angel moaned again, and I wondered why he kept doing that. Surely my attraction to him wasn't reciprocated. Do too know what that means. Even in high school I knew what that meant.
"Only very recently. And only if you ask really nice."
Wow. Now I could practically smell him. And where the hell did that courage come from?
"I don't beg for favors from humans."
"Well, it wouldn't be a favor would it? I don't dance for free."
I could practically hear his mind go blank. "How much?"
What? He was--oh. For a dance? He wanted me to dance for him? Me? Donut boy? I sighed. "Probably way less than it should be. For you, only twenty."
"T-twenty? You'd show yourself off for a twenty?"
I thought about it. "I'm not getting completely naked, you don't get to touch, and I reserve the right to stop if I think you're about to do something inappropriate."
"Yes, I'd show myself off for a twenty."
Angel stared at me then. Stopped the swaying movement he'd been making as an excuse for dancing and just stared. "No."
"No. I'll give you fifty. And you won't dance, or even have to take anything off. All I want--"
"Wait a minute, here, Angel. I don't fuck for money."
"I don't want that."
I was stunned into silence. Most people I told that to quickly asked if I'd fuck for free then, and I usually said yes, and specified that I got to top if they were of the male persuasion. So for Angel not to want that was something of a shock. Wait. If he didn't want me to strip, and he didn't want to fuck me, then what did he want?
He must have read my question on my face, because his next words were, "I don't want that. Not right now. For now, all I want is a kiss."
He wanted a kiss? He wanted me to kiss him? I thought about this, stopping my own dwindling attempts at dancing and studying him. Honestly? I wanted that kiss. I wanted it like I wanted to breathe. But I wasn't about to become a kiss whore. "No."
Angel looked shocked. "What?"
"Oh you can kiss me, no doubt about that. But you'll never have to pay for the privilege."
He growled at me then, and before I could figure out what was happening, I was shoved against a wall, and his mouth was on mine, and it was wet and warmer than I thought it would be, and there was friction and thrusting, and suddenly I felt like I was home. I moaned into the mouth that was suddenly open over mine, and I thought for a moment of putting my tongue inside, but then somehow the choice was taken away, and that slightly cool vampiric tongue was inside my mouth, and I had no idea when I'd opened up for him, but it all seemed so right that I let it go, and just enjoyed it.
He was licking and sucking and thrusting and I know it sounds crude and cliched all at once, but he was fucking me with his tongue, and I was practically coming from just that. My hands were clutching at the wall behind me, and his hands were all over, holding my head still and feeling every inch of exposed skin and finding the hidden--although not very well, as I realized later--nipple rings and tweaking and pulling and I was shuddering under his hands.
The kiss slowed, turning from tongue fuck back to actual kiss, and his arms wrapped around me and I relaxed into him. He held me, and my hands came up to rest on his shoulders, and we were still kissing, no doubt about that, tongues brushing and dueling each other, and hands tangled in hair and my leg curling around his waist, and his hand on my thigh, and the constant feeling that if he didn't stop soon I'd come, and the conflict between wanting that so much and needing so much more.
I shuddered again, realizing that although I'd never done it before I'd gladly let Angel fuck me, instead of fucking him, that I wanted him to be inside me, that I needed him wrapped around me, holding me, just like he was right now, and that if he ever moved away then I'd probably follow him anywhere to get him back, to have his arms back around me and all the other things I wanted but couldn't yet put into words.
He felt safe. He felt like love.
He coaxed my tongue into his mouth, and began sucking, like it was my cock, and I wondered if I could get off on just this, just kissing him. He tasted like chocolate and peanut butter, and I wondered why, if he didn't eat, did he taste this good? I wrapped my arms around his neck, felt my fingers dig into his hair. I could tell with every movement he made, every touch, that he ached to do more, to make me his. And I ached for it too. Wanted it more than life, more than air.
He pulled his mouth away, and I looked up at him through lust hazed eyes, knowing that he was seeing everything I was feeling there. I hoped he would put his mouth back where it had been, give me back his tongue, or even steal mine again, but he just gazed at me.
He looked so long I thought I was going to scream. But finally he was back, and the kiss was different this time, harsh and demanding and possessive like nothing I'd felt before. I think he was trying to scare me, although I haven't yet gotten him to admit it. He may have been trying to freak me out, so I wouldn't want it, wouldn't tempt him, but all his possessive, angry kiss did was turn me on more. I was being claimed in the middle of the Bronze by the vampire I'd indirectly sent to hell, and yeah, I was pretty sure he knew about that, because I was pretty sure I'd sent him that letter right before graduation. For some reason he never mentioned it, but something about our relationship changed after that, getting friendlier for some reason, and now he was sticking his tongue in my mouth and making me want nothing more than to keep him there forever, even as he tried to be mean and cruel and heartlessly take, like any unsouled vampire would do.
But he was Angel, and this was perfect, and I never wanted any of it to stop.
So of course it did. His mouth was gone, tongue missing from my mouth, arms pulled from my waist, and I was whimpering, I wanted him back so much. He was three feet away, staring at me with a mixture of lust, confusion, temptation and just plain terror on his beautiful face.
"Angel," I moaned, holding out a hand to him.
Before I knew it I was being pulled through the Bronze, out the door, and into the unknown. Our relationship started that night, and I still get the hellmouth kissed out of me every time I say his name that way. On a breathy little moan.
Yeah, relationships are hard work. But the kissing more than makes up for it.
A/N 2: FYI, I hate Author's Notes! They're impossible to write succinctly, and when you rant, you sound completely stupid (see? See how stupid I sound, ranting about Author's Notes in an Author's Note!). Stupidity aside, what the heck? You're supposed to tell them about the fic they're about to read? Why can't they just read it? Of course, when you do stupid confusing things like timeline altering, you kinda need an Author's Note so people can figure out why the hell Angel's at the Bronze when he should be in LA, dealing with doctors who can dismember themselves and annoying secretaries and Brachen demons who get visions to tell him where to go to kick demon ass. Maybe an Author's note was not the place to go off on this rant? Maybe I should shut up now? Maybe if you go back to the top and reread the actual fic, it'll make you feel better. There's a couple of hot boys sucking face in it. Oh God, I just realized I have no life. Besides which, I really am doing nothing to maintain the mood I wanted for the story, and see? See my point? Author's Notes are really just diversionary tactics that we use to distract you from the crap we actually wrote. Except, if I'm posting it, then why am I posting crap? Oh, I give up. Just tell me you think I'm insane and want to tar and feather me and get it over with. Gah! Why am I still writing? Tell me again why I want to do this professionally? Oh yeah, that's right...I'm such an addict. Look ma, I'm all talented and I wrote this five page story and oh, yeah, practically an entire page is me ranting on in an Author's note cuz it's four in the morning (exactly) and I have no life, and no job, and for some stupid reason thought that I could actually write and make money at it and not wind up living in a cardboard box or with my parents! And Oh By The Way, I have this little problem with run on sentences and making them not run on, and when I'm not running on I'm fragmenting, and my grammar check hates me, although my spellcheck and I are on better terms, although I want to kill it every time it tells me that "can't" isn't a word, and neither is "isn't" and don't get me started about the whole contractions issue, because I've already gone on way too far from the one or two sentences I wanted to do at the beginning, and am now rambling on at the bottom of the story like an insane loser lunatic. Okay, since I've pretty much exhausted my supply of rant for the night I'm going to shut up now and go away.