Buffy flexed her back muscles as she trembled in his grip and climaxed. She leaned back into his hands holding her, her wetness running down his body, her thighs squeezing him, her nippels erect. „Angel..." He growled and fucked her harder, watched her moan as she kneaded his cock with her snatch. With one final thrust, he came up, clasped her, buried his face in her breasts – he wanted to bite bite bite drink her no drink her rip the skin and drink her NO - and he shot his hot load inside her.
Angel's body tensed as he came hard and long. He twisted in his chair and held himself firmly, spurting repeatedly onto his rugged abs. Ohhh... Blankness invaded his mind. For a moment, he just sat there, thinking of nothing, hand in the sticky. He took an unnecessary breath and sighed peacefully. Suddenly he bolted upright. What was he doing here? And what the heck was that about wanting to bite Buffy when he was human? It hadn't gone down like that. He was ashamed of himself. He never had complete control over his second nature. The anger was back. „Fuck you, Angelus", he mumbled. Disgusted with himself, he shook off his pants and shirt and went through the room to take a shower. His knees were kind of wobbly.