Title: Stay
Chapter Title: Stay
Characters: Angelina, George
Genres: Romance, Angst/Tragedy
Rating: RA
Warnings: Strong Sexual content!, Violence, Strong Language
Summary: Angelina and George had been spending nearly a year hiding from reality. Now it is time to face it. Written for the Support Stacie author Auction.


They always found each other in darkness. She would come to him in shadows, the whites of her eyes heavily lidded and her dark body covering his; hiding him from everyone, even himself. In the dead of night, they could pretend they were other people, and not victims of loss and grief. In the darkness, he wasn't alone, wasn't left behind, and wasn't himself. They could cling to each other in need and then shroud themselves in disguise as the light came back against their naked bodies.

George Weasley woke up to find her gone, as always, making her seem more like a phantom of his dreams then his own daily gray reality. George got himself ready for the day, ignoring his stomach's calls for breakfast, before walking downstairs to plaster a fake smile on his face and open up for business. Selling laughter made him feel like such a fraud.

His brother Ron walked in and slipped on his magenta robes. George knew he meant well, but seeing Ron helping in the shop when he should be moving on with his life made George feel pitied and resented. Ron flicked the sign to read 'Open' and moved the new shipment packages to the back storeroom.

"I thought you had auror training today," George said, powering up the cash register and greeting Verity with a nod as she started straightening the shelves.

"Oh I have a half day! Thought I'd come in and process this huge shipment," Ron yelled from the back.

"You should have taken a break," George mumbled.

Ron peeked his head out of the room, "Nahhh," he smiled. Sometimes, George suspected that Ron's sunny disposition was false and for his benefit alone. No one could be that happy and nonchalant all of the time…especially the King of the Emotional Outburst. It was hard for George to believe that his smiling employee was the same man who still basically used fights with his girlfriend as foreplay. No, Ron was wearing a mask of happiness for George, but he continued to welcome it. George could see that Ron was in pain too, but only kept on going some days for the sake of his older brother. False smiles and make believe joy were much better then sincere pity from his little brother.

George settled back against the counter, put on his own fake smile again, and welcomed the pouring in of customers like the successful businessman he was.

The day always went by in a blur. George's mind, in a complete haze, went through the motions, but was never really present throughout the day. Before he knew it, it was time for lunch. George reluctantly took the proffered sandwich from Verity, knowing Ron was watching him out of the corner of his eyes.

Ron never said the things he heard from the rest of the family: "I'm worried," "You never go out," and "Are you really okay?" But George knew what was silently and subtly interfered when Ron thought he wasn't looking. The sandwich George had taken a bite out of had Ron's trademark crushed up crisps on it. George found himself smirking at Ron's attempted secrecy.

Despite the 'Closed for Lunch' sign on the door, George heard the distinct entry bell jingle. "We're eating! Come back in ten minutes!"

"No can do, mate. Gotta help with this new shipment," Lee Jordan said, leaning over and taking a bite out of his sandwich. Angelina followed him, her shoulders squared and her eyes avoiding his.

"What the fuck, Ron?" George said angrily. Ron looked up at him innocently.

"What?" he said, food falling out of his mouth.

"Never mind. I'll be in the lab," George said, stuffing the sandwich into his mouth and rushing over to the room under the stairs.

George slammed the door and leaned against it, breathing heavily. He couldn't handle all these people around. He couldn't survive the knowing looks of pity in their eyes much longer. Their desire to be helpful and ease his pain and burden were stifling. He could barely breathe as their worry and concern permeated the air. It had been almost a year since a part of him was ripped away, and every well-meaning piece of affection, every heavily disguised glance was like tearing open the wound all over again.

He walked over to his potions cabinet, the pain in his chest becoming unbearable, and pulled out a clear potion.

George had purchased the potion a few days after he lost Fred during a numbing walk into Knockturn Alley. He had intended on taking it in that moment, falling asleep in the mud soaked street, and never waking again. He couldn't live anymore; he couldn't stand facing life without Fred. But George was a coward, terrified he wouldn't see Fred again, even in everlasting sleep, and then he would only ever be stuck in the darkest recesses of his mind. So George kept on going, if you could call it that, in the hopes that someday it would stop hurting. It never stopped hurting.

Standing there in the shop, like he did every day, and trying to continue on, like he did every day, George wanted nothing more than to sleep forever. Even a forever in dreams without Fred was better than facing every day awake knowing the better part of his nature would never be there to smile back at him, to read his thoughts, or to reassure him. George raised the potion to his lips, the pending relief almost making him smile.

Suddenly, the delicate glass smashed in his hands and the potion dribbled uselessly onto the floor.

"You fucking coward!" Angelina yelled brandishing her wand. She pushed him up against the wall hard, his back slamming on the wood with a sharp crack. He knew she was powerful, but this display of strength shocked him.

"I can't…Angie…I can't…" He started, falling to the floor and crying.

"Yeah, it hurts. But imagine the pain of losing you forever. Imagine what it would do to Molly if you ended it now, if you left her when she needed you to be strong and come back. I'm not stupid, I know you haven't spoken to her and you don't even visit home, but at least now she still has hope. How could you do that?" Angelina said, her large, dark eyes beginning to water.

"Well maybe nothing matters anymore, Angie. Not even her. I can't handle the pain, the empty feeling. Too much of me is missing. I'll never be whole," George said, meeting her eyes desperately.

"Then you survive on half," Angelina said, her teeth clenched, her breathing labored in an attempt to suppress her tears.

"You're one to talk. You come into my room every night to have him. You fuck me senseless and let me do nasty things to you just so that you can feel him near you!" George shouted, rising onto his feet.

Angelina stayed on her knees on the ground, looking up at him with a shocked and hurt expression. "Is that what you think it is?" She whispered, her voice trembling.

"How could it not be?" George said harshly, willing her to deny it.

She stood to face him as though she would slap him, but then her expression crumbled into indescribable sadness and she disapparated before his eyes.


He didn't think she would be back that night. He thought for sure he had lost his one solace in the world. How could she continue the painful charade now that she was exposed?

As George had pulled the covers over his head for another meaningless bout of sleep with dreams of plain white nothingness, he heard her creep in. It could only be her, because she was the only one with the ability to break down the wards. He could smell the vanilla she dabbed behind her ears before she even opened the door to his room.

She slipped under the covers and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her warm nose against the back of his neck. Her hands danced across his chest, running delicately over his bare skin, and making his body melt in relief and anticipation.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, rolling over and capturing her lips. If she was going to give this to him, he was going to make it okay. She needed Fred, he needed some escape, and so he would make the look she had when he last saw her vanish to nothing but a memory.

"It's alright, forget about it now," she said, kissing his neck and shoulders.

He ran his hands down her arms and then up her shirt. He pulled it over her head and began to lavish kisses on the soft mounds of her breasts. He reached behind and removed her bra with skill earned from many of these dark interludes and quickly latched his lips to her dark nipples. She let out a hungry moan, pulling George against her. His erection ground against her center and he groaned out in surprise. He was determined to go slowly this time, to make up for causing her even one inch of the pain that he felt every day. He needed to know that at least one thing he loved could survive, even if there wasn't any love in return.

George pressed her against the bed and ran his hands down her smooth, soft stomach. He had adored those generous curves of hers since before he understood the female body, and to have them splayed out before him always made him forget everything. His hands found the clasp of her jeans and he readily undid them, rising to pull them off of her. She was gazing up at him with so much love in her eyes that it almost destroyed him to keep going. To know she wanted someone else, that she wanted the mirror image of his own soul, to know this was all a disguise for her made George's heart ache even more. But he needed to feel her, needed to be inside of her like he needed air…like he needed Fred.

He hovered over her and let his hand wander down to her center. The heat radiating off of her was so enthralling that he immediately pressed two fingers inside of her, causing her to cry out. She never said his name, and he knew why, but he loved to hear her moan all the same. He pumped his fingers in and out quickly as her hips bucked into his hands, and his thumb began to graze her sensitive nub. She clung to him tightly, her body soon reducing into frenzied tremors and yells for more. Soon, her walls clenched around his fingers and she came with the force characteristic of only her.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, licking her sweet juices off of his fingers. He quickly sheathed himself inside of her, burying his throbbing cock to the hilt in her tight, warm heat. He vowed that he would go slowly, to let the guise linger as long as possible, though his body was crying out to thrust wildly into her like he had done so many times. This wasn't meant to be angry or desperate, he needed to heal the damage he had done.

She moaned out again, her breathing heavy, and pressed her breasts up against his bare chest as he slowly pulled in and out of her. Her legs wrapped around his hips and she met every thrust with a force that used to knock George off balance with pleasure. He continued his steady pace, watching her face twist in ecstasy, and kissing her passionately. He reveled in the feeling of her soft hands running down his back and over his bum, never wanting to leave his current position and face the reality of daylight.

When she let out another low moan and opened her eyes to meet his, George lost the will to continue going slow, and reached down to run his fingers over her clit. When her body tensed, he delivered a few more hard thrusts and they came together. He held her closely as their heartbeats slowed.

Instead of facing the inevitable, George rolled over on his side, not being able to handle watching her walk away. She leaned up, sighed, and ran her hands over his bare back before leaving his room again. He only hoped that she continued to keep up the charade for another night.


Angelina dressed and walked out of George's flat, not looking back. Her legs were still like jelly from their passion, but yet again, he didn't ask her to stay. He never asked her to stay. To avoid any more pain, she left him before he could tell her to leave. Her heart broke a little more every night, but it was better than feeling nothing at all.

George was not her replacement for Fred, and the fact that he thought that hurt her but didn't surprise her. She and Fred hadn't been together since Seventh Year and had been just friends when the war had really heated up. As the fighting and fear intensified, her first thoughts were always of George. Angelina knew then that while Fred might have been her first lover, George was her first love.

Angelina arrived at her flat, unlocked the door, and quickly fell into the comfort of her bed. She was glad she didn't have to be at work until noon so that she could sleep, even if it hurt more to sleep than to wake and go through her pain with George. As with her nightly routine, her nightmares were always the same:

She was fighting Deatheaters at Hogwarts. She saw Fred fall, and she saw George disappear. She would search endless blackened tunnels for him only to find he would always vanish again before she could reach him.

Angelina woke to a feeling of loss and helplessness. Her nights with George, their wordless lovemaking and frenzied kisses, were the only time that she could actually reach him…that he didn't just vanish. The buzzing of her alarming charm shook her out of her fear just in time for her to shower and get to work. Angelina really did enjoy her job, so mornings were never that unwelcome. She managed Quality Quidditch Supplies just a few doors down from George's shop. The owner had decided to hire her after the war made him realize he'd rather spend more time with his family. Sure, he got most of the proceeds, but she had authority and reign over the whole of the business, including hiring.

Her favorite employee greeted her in the midst of a noontime rush. Audrey Smythe's bright green eyes shone from behind the cash register as she swept her long golden hair up to keep it out of her face while explaining the Broomstick Servicing Kit to an older patron. Angelina had hired Audrey on the spot after noting she had plenty of retail experience. Sure, it had been mostly in the muggle world, but the concept was the same. Now, Audrey was Angelina's assistant manager…and quickly becoming her best friend.

In addition to being responsible and dependable, Audrey also understood Angelina's pain in her own way. Her father was a muggle, and her family was tortured at the wands of Deatheaters before they were forced to go into hiding. Eventually, her parents were murdered. Every once in a while, Angelina could see the clouds forming in Audrey's eyes, and she knew all too well what lingered there. After many nights in the pub, Angelina and Audrey were as close as sisters.

Audrey begged off before closing, as she had already put in nearly ten hours, and Angelina was left to close up the shop and process the transactions. Another fruitful day was sure to please the owner and help her toward the summer bonus in a few months as well. She was just reaching for the lock, daydreaming about what she could do with her bonus, when the floo erupted.

"Angie gigigigi…Ha!" Audrey said, her head sticking out of the fire and lolling from side to side. Angelina knew in a second she was definitely drunk.

"I'm at the pub, and I was getting ready to take this lovely bloke home, but…where…my house…how do I get there?" She said, laughing loudly through the flames.

"Hang on, let me come and help you out," Angelina said, worried that Audrey may be getting herself into a dangerous situation by getting drunk and taking some guy home. She immediately flooed to The Leaky Cauldron, knowing Audrey couldn't usually resist Hannah Abbott's magical martinis.

When Angelina finally made her way into the pub and dusted off her robes, she immediately spotted Audrey's golden mane splayed across her back, her body precariously perched on top of someone. Angelina laughed while she attempted to try to make out something more than the stranger's hands as Audrey's hair shielded him from the crowd. At least she was having a lovely night!

"Ahem," Angelina said, attempting to be as subtle as possible. The pair did not pry away, or even pause.

"Ahem," she said again, clearing her throat a little more loudly. Still, there was no acknowledgement from the snogging partners.

"Audrey Smythe!!!" Angelina shouted. The entire pub immediately silenced as Audrey pulled her lips away from her quarry, a trail of spittle following her and a goofy grin on her red face.

"Angie gi gi gie! I'm so glad you came! Meet my friend, Percy!" She squealed, grabbing Percy's face and pulling it in her direction.

"We've met," Angelina murmured, shocked to see Percy's glazed eyes staring back at her.

"It's a pleasure Ms. Johnson," Percy said. He rose to shake her hand, but never made it, as he collapsed on the floor. He was out cold instantaneously.

"Oh bloody hell! I've lost another one to the drink!" Audrey exclaimed, stepping over Percy and making her way to the door, arm around Angelina.

"Wait! I think we should make sure Percy makes it somewhere safe," Angelina said, unable to suppress a grin at seeing the former Head Boy sprawled out, drunk as a skunk on the pub floor.

Angelina lifted Percy up, his thin frame easily moving under her strong grasp. She flung his arm over her shoulders and he mumbled wordlessly trying to catch his footing. Audrey followed them out the door, laughing wildly as her steps swayed across the sidewalk.

A short walk later, she had arrived at George's shop. Angelina took a deep breath and rang the bell frantically. Normally, she would have just come up and made her way right to the bedroom, but she didn't want him getting the wrong idea. She waited eagerly, ringing the bell and hoping he would hear her. He was a light sleeper, and he was always awake and waiting for her at this time of night. Sure enough, she could faintly hear angry groans and heavy footfalls on the stairs.

"I swear to fucking God, if you're not dead or dying, I'm going to kill whoever is ringing that bell!!" George yelled as he yanked open the door. His anger melted when he met Angelina's eyes.

"Ummmm. I found him at the pub, and I think he needs some help," Angelina said awkwardly. George looked shocked and a little put out for a moment, but soon acquiesced and helped Angelina pull Percy inside. She was about to leave and take Audrey home, when Audrey collapsed on the floor of the shop.

"Oh sweet Merlin! How much did you have to drink, Audrey?" Angelina exclaimed, rushing back to make sure Audrey didn't hurt her head.

"We can levitate her upstairs. Percy is wobbly but walking on his own," George said, swiping his wand over Audrey and floating her up to the flat.

When they finally all made it upstairs, Percy had already curled up in a drunken heap on the living room rug. George levitated Audrey to his bedroom, laying her gently on the bed. "She can sleep in here tonight, I'll kip on the sofa and keep an eye on Perce. What the hell happened to them, and who the hell is she?" George said, a light smirk on his face.

"Well 'she' is named Audrey and she's my assistant manager and good friend. She flooed me drunker than an old hippogriff trying to find her way home. When I got to the pub to pick her up, she was throat deep inside of Percy's mouth," Angelina smiled, still sort of chilled at seeing Percy Weasley in the throes of what can only be described as passion.

"Gross," George said, shuddering to himself. "How about a cup of tea?"

Angelina nodded, a small hope rising in her chest. They were alone...sort of...and he was lingering with her. He wanted to talk to her, wanted to be with her without just bedding her. He prepared them two cups, laid out some biscuits, and joined her at the small table in the kitchen.

George avoided her eyes, seeming to be infinitely interested in his tea. He didn't speak a word, didn't raise up his voice once. Every second of silence was like a sharp pang in her heart. She longed to hear him acknowledge what he was to her. She needed to know that he understood he wasn't a substitute for Fred. Even a small token of affection could get her through this evening without a broken heart.

But he did nothing, just sat there, his eyes shifting from Percy to his tea.

"I need to get going. I'll have to open the shop, seeing as how Audrey is out of commission," Angelina sighed sadly. George jumped up and followed her as she went to leave. "Please ask me to stay," her mind begged. "Just one little request, and I'm yours."

George held open the door, and Angelina spared one last, heartbroken glance at him before leaving to apparate in front of the shop. He was never going to love her, to need her like she needed him.


The look on Angelina's face ripped at George's chest. He had never seen her look more pained. George felt another stab as he realized he hadn't really seen the definition of her face close up in ages. He felt disgusted for using her, and even more disgusted for letting himself be used. But if he really was a tool for her grief, why did she look so hurt to leave him behind in that moment? He would give anything to see what was in her head, just for a few fleeting moments, so he could finally understand this dance they were doing.

The question lay heavy on George's mind as he finished his tea alone, chewing aimlessly on the last biscuit. He fell asleep on the couch feeling like reality would slip away at any second.

A guttural moan came from the floor, and George responded just in time so see Percy vomit all over his red carpet. He cast a cleansing spell, got some water, and fetched a towel, handing them silently to Percy who mumbled a thank you.

"George?" Percy said, sitting up further and obviously beginning to gain his senses back.

"What am I doing here? What's happened?"

"You got rightly pissed, snogged some bar skank who's passed out in my bedroom, and went cold on the floor of the pub. Angelina brought you here," George said, already annoyed by Percy's presence.

That explanation was the most George had spoken to Percy in years, his words nonexistent after Fred's death. George resented the very life that flowed freely in Percy's veins. Every smug movement of Percy's body was a knife; twisting into George and reminding him that fate took Fred...and left Percy. As far as George was concerned, if Percy wouldn't have shown up at the last second, none of this would have happened. If Percy weren't so selfish and vain, he would have been fighting with his family long before it became a surprise to see him. The consistently sad and fearful look Percy always wore under George's gaze only confirmed these thoughts for him.

"Audrey is not some random bar skank. We perhaps got carried away, but she's not a stranger to me. I expect you apologize immediately," Percy said, though without the pomp and force that Head Boy Percy would have said those words with.

"Apologize? To you? You have no right to demand anything from me. Nothing!" George suddenly yelled. The word 'apologize' stuck in his throat like bile, infecting his entire body with rage. He owed Percy nothing. George could take Percy's left foot and it wouldn't be enough. He thought fleetingly that he could take Percy's life in that moment and it wouldn't be enough to satisfy him.

Percy's expression deflated from red anger to pale horror at George's outburst. He gathered up his cloak, grabbed his wand, and made for the door looking defeated.

"Hey, don't' forget your bar skank!" George shouted after Percy as he began to walk down the stairs. He wanted Percy to come back, to fight, and to feel the anger; the pain George felt every day. He wanted Percy to loathe life as much as he did.

Sure enough, Percy ran back up the stairs. He met George's eyes with the same pained anger that George felt. The younger brother jutted out his jaw, eagerly anticipating the first blow.

Percy's fist landed hard across George's face, harder then Percy should have been able to deliver. George stumbled back, but was stopped as Percy grabbed his shirt and pulled back to deliver another blow. This time, George was prepared, and dodged Percy's fist, rounding back to punch Percy in the stomach and send him careening back against the wall.

"She is not a skank, not a random woman, and not deserving of your criticism. Say what you want about me. Do what you want to me, but don't you dare speak ill of Audrey." Percy said between gasps for breath. He charged at George again, slamming his body into his and causing them both to tumble on the floor.

"Nothing you care about is more valuable than what you took from me," George wailed, throwing Percy on his back and straddling him, punching him hard against the side of his long, thin face.

Percy lay there, tears in his eyes, and let the next punch come without even attempting to dodge it. George raised his fist again, longing to see Percy's pale face crushed to pieces under his own fists, like a pile of rocks falling from a wall…like how Fred left him.

"Just do it. Please. Just end it. Just kill me. I can't take it anymore. It's my fault he's dead, and I shouldn't be alive at all," Percy cried as blood fell from his lips and down his neck.

George felt like he would be sick. Here he was, exacting a revenge he had often dreamt of since Fred left him, and his living brother was begging for death...pleading to have his own untimely end. Nothing seemed to fit anywhere in George's head. He rolled off of Percy, sitting on the floor and slamming his head hard against the wall. Percy lay on the floor, gasping for breath, crying out for it all to end.

"I can't do that Percy. Why would you want that? How could you want that? You still have a life to live," George whispered, his own self-loathing rising at every word. Seconds ago, he could have killed his brother. Seconds ago, George could have lost whatever goodness that was left in him.

"I don't belong anywhere. I wanted to come back so badly, but I knew no one would have me. Finally, I decide to come back and he...the spell it just...it should have been me! I deserved it, not him!" Percy cried. "I don't belong with anyone anymore, I'm not worth it."

George could feel hot tears behind his eyelids. The feelings Percy was letting fall from his bloodied mouth had been coursing through his head for nearly a year. He felt homeless, soulless, and lifeless. Hearing Percy's pain, seeing it etched across his broken face pulled George into the reality that things would never be the same, the reality that he had to cope.

"You do belong somewhere, Perce. You belong in the same world I do. You belong with me, with us," George said, crawling over to Percy and gently waving his wand over his wounds. Percy closed his eyes in relief, more tears leaking from his cleared face. George pulled Percy up into a sitting position, keeping hold of his hand for a little longer than he had to, before hearing a small whimper from the other side of the room.

"You can't want that. You can't want to...you can't leave," Audrey cried, her bright green eyes meeting Percy's. When George looked up to her, she had the same pained expression Angelina had as she left the night before. Percy swiftly rose from the floor and pulled the young woman into his arms.

"I'm so sorry, Audrey. It just hurts so much sometimes," He mumbled, burying his face in her shoulder. Her face continued to bear the familiar look as she stroked Percy's curled hair between her fingers.

"Just don't leave me. Not you too, Percy," Audrey cried, pulled him back to meet her eyes. "Stay," she whispered, desperation and need on her lips. "Stay. For me. With me. Just stay"

Without waiting a single moment longer, George rushed out the flat, down the stairs, and into the crowded street. He was in the doorway of Quality Quidditch Supplies within minutes.

She hadn't noticed him among the bustle of customers, but his eyes lingered on her like she was the only person in the room. She glowed even more brightly in the daylight; her long body stretching to reach high shelves, showing off the generous swell of her round hips. Her arms rippled with strength as she pulled a large box down to hand a small boy a new broom. Her face glowed when the young wizard's large smile and excitement met her eyes. George never realized how familiar…how comforting her smile was.

Angelina looked up, and her eyes locked on him. George was lost for a moment as her dark eyes widened, never before really considering how profoundly she ensnared him with just a quirk of her eyebrow. Unable to find words, George gestured to the back room.

"Rudy! I'll be in the back for a bit. Don't contact me unless you're on fire or dead," Angelina yelled to the harried looking teenager behind the cash register.

George followed her wordlessly into the back and shut the door behind them. He cast a locking spell, and her graceful dark eyebrow disappeared even higher up into her hairline. Without a word, he rushed forward, grabbed the back of her head, and kissed her hard. He pressed his entire body into her, begging for her tongue with his own, and running his hands eagerly across her back. She tasted even sweeter in this new light.

He pulled back to look at her face, to find her eyes again, and found a welcome and comforting sight. Her eyes were barely opened, her mouth parted, and a look of happiness and contentment ghosted across her features. When her eyes opened all the way, George was hit with a love he had never seen directly before.

"Oh Angie…so beautiful," He murmured, kissing her neck and letting his hands tangle in her braided hair.


She could hardly believe what she just heard, but her heart began to race despite her head. It was odd enough that George was kissing her in the light of day, someplace that wasn't his bed, but he had also whispered her name. She had not heard her name on his lips for nearly a year. His smooth, slightly graveled voice was like music as his luscious lips formed the syllables. When his warm, large hands reached underneath her blouse, she moaned lightly… her body starved for his touch. She needed George to love her, and for the first time, she could almost delude herself into believing he did.

When his hand graced over her nipple, she moaned, pressing herself into his erection. She reached down, eager to feel his want for her, and cupped his hard length in her hands. The moan that came from deep within him lit a spark in her center.

"George," she groaned, arching her back so he could grip her breasts more firmly.

He paused in that moment, even his breath freezing in his chest. Angelina opened her eyes to meet his deep blue ones. Something burned in them, something that seemed to reach right into his soul. In that moment, he was clearer to her than he'd ever been.

"Say it again," He whispered, his tone almost pleading with her to make it real to him.

"George," she said, more clearly and with force in her voice. "George," she repeated, reaching back down to grip him in her palm. He cried out, thrusting his hips into hers.

"I'm yours, Angie, all yours," He whimpered, clinging to her like a drowning man in a tidal storm. Her chest heaved, anxious to feel more of him. Hearing his voice so clearly in her ears as they connected had set into motion something in her heart she was sure would never slow down.

She quickly undid his jeans, slipping them over his thin hips and down around his ankles. She moved his pants down a little more slowly, glorying in the long, hard pink flesh that bounced before her. She looked up to meet George's eyes as she wrapped her lips around his warm cock.

"Fuck, Angie…ugh," He groaned, holding tightly to her hair to keep from thrusting into her mouth. Angelina let his member slide in between her lips over and over again, relishing the moans and cries he was releasing. She reached a hand up to grip his rounded arse firmly, pulling him more fully into her mouth.

"You need…I need…please," He groaned, his hands tightening in her hair once more. She rose up to meet his lips, kissing him hard as she felt him kick his pants away. She pulled his shirt over his head and ran her dark hands across his pale skin. He removed her clothing deftly, the fabrics falling away from her body as fast as she could shake them off.

He pulled her down to the floor, burying his face in her neck as she straddled him. Both of his hands ran up and down her back, his body seeming to tremble under her. She pressed his shoulders back to the floor, running her hands soothingly over his chest. He seemed overwhelmed, and she felt the need to comfort and reassure him in that moment.

"George I," She didn't know what she was going to say. The words seemed too plentiful yet insufficient to all come out at once. His eyes were looking up at her so full of want, of need, and so earnestly that every word seemed useless.

She slowly slid over him, letting him sheath fully inside of her. They both moaned out at the feeling, gripping each other's bodies tightly. She began to move slowly over him as he reached up to stroke her face.

Her pace picked up as she watched George's face twist in happiness and contentment. Something was slowly leaving him; some darkness or shadow seemed to lift from his light skin. It burned like a brilliant warm fire inside of her, and she lifted her hips up and down on him with more power.

"Oh Angie," He cried, pulling her body against his. His hand reached down and began to feverishly stroke her clit, but at the shaking of his body, she was already feeling the waves of an orgasm. She came hard, her entire body clenching as he moaned. She felt him twitch inside of her before limply falling to the floor. He pulled her close to him, his heart racing and his breathing heavy.

She went to get up, to put her clothes on and get back to work. She loved this change in him, but it would only break her heart to get her hopes up too much. As she rose, he held her more tightly, pulling her back against him on the floor.

"Stay," he softly whispered. "Stay with me."

She laid her head back onto his chest and sighed.