"What is your problem?" she demanded.

"My problem," he stated coldly, not moving from his fighting stance, "is that you’re either not trying at all or you’re doing this to make me mad."

"Make you mad?" she asked in disbelief.  "You think I’m spending all night on my ass getting the crap beat out of me to make you mad?"

He looked at her for several heartbeats before walking over to her sprawled form.  Curtly, he bend down and grabbed her wrist, pulling her off the floor and hard against his body.  Buffy’s breath caught in her throat.  Angel had never touched her like this before, she was terrified to move.  She was acutely aware of the bare chest she was pinned to, it made it hard to think.  Angel bent his head forward so he could whisper in her ear.

"Maybe you’re just a little distracted tonight," he said icily.

Buffy shook her head to clear it.

"What could I possibly be distracted by?" she asked defiantly.

It was a lie.  She was about three county lines over from distracted.  The feel of his body was making her hot all over.  She shifted her weight back and forth as he held her tight.

"Maybe you’re thinking about your new friend from last night," he bit out.

In bewilderment, Buffy pushed him away, staring into his eyes.

"What *are* you talking about?" she asked.

He laughed sardonically.

"Gee, Buff, you’re here with me but you’re not really trying.  It’s like you can’t get your mind off of something and in the process you’re distracting me as well," he said caustically.

Buffy narrowed her eyes.  She was pissed.

"I *am* concentrating on what I’m doing.  How am I supposed to fight you?  You’ve apparently been holding back for weeks and now tonight you’re going all out and you’re kicking my ass!  I’m working my damnedest to keep you from really hurting me and you have the nerve to say I’m not trying.  *And* to accuse me of trying to distract you!  How the hell am I supposed to be doing that?" she raged at him.

Angel threw the quarterstaff to the floor hard.  He was tired of her innocent act.  She’d worn that damn dress out to meet Cordy’s stupid frat boy friends.  She knew what kind of affect she could have on men and he was sick of being played with.

"My body reacts to yours," he snipped at Buffy.

"Well, isn’t that the point?  I mean we are *sparring* here," she exclaimed in exasperation.

"Yeah, and let me tell you how comfortable it is for me to spar with a hard on," he growled sarcastically, advancing on her.

"What?" Buffy mumbled in absolute bewilderment, her eyes going wide.

She backed up across the open space of the library as he advanced, finally stopping when her back hit the railing of the stairs leading to the bookshelves.

"I can smell you," he barked, coming to a stop directly in front of her.

Buffy blushed, unable to meet his gaze.

"Great! Congratulations!  We’ve been working out, of course I’m a little fragrant!  I don’t really see what that has to do with your ... um, discomfort," she finished awkwardly.

"That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it, " he said quietly.  "I can smell that your arousal.  Are thoughts of your new little friend getting you excited?"

Buffy looked up at him, mortified.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about, Angel," she almost whined in confusion.  "You’re mad about Riley?  Why?  We just had coffee.  I’m sorry if you think I was ignoring my sacred duty."

"Sacred duty doesn’t have a damn thing to do with it," he growled.

"Then what?" Buffy whimpered.

Angel stared at her silently.

Slowly everything clicked into place and a grin slid across her lips.  Buffy laughed lightly.

"You’re mad because I went out with Riley," she said, confident that she was right.

Angel’s expression did not lighten, if anything it became even harder.  Buffy began to think maybe she had read him wrong.

"I don’t care what you do with those little *boys*," he said quietly.  "But I do have a problem with you using your body to try and get the upper hand while we’re sparring."

Buffy was absolutely confused again.  How was she using her body to distract him?

A smile pulled at the corners of Angel’s lips.  His expression took on a very devious quality as he said, "Oh ... so you want to play naive.  Is that it?  Well, sweetheart, I can play too."

He placed his hands gently on her hips, pushing her harder against the railing, feeling the heat radiating off her tiny body.  Except for his hands on her hips, their bodies did not touch, separated only a fraction of an inch.  Her head was no longer craned up at him but instead faced the smooth, bare planes of his pale, muscled chest.  Angel took a deep breath, lowering his head to hers so that his lips barely brushed the delicate shell of her ear.

"I can smell you," he said throatily.  "I can smell your honey.  It’s dripping out of you, baby.  Your panties have to be soaked by now."

Buffy made a small sound of protest, but Angel continued.

"You may think you want that weak little boy, but your body knows what it really needs.  You’re so wet right now, slick so you can me.  That smell makes me hard, makes it impossible to concentrate on anything but you, licking you, sucking you ... fucking you.  I want you, Buffy."

Buffy’s head shot up in fury.  Intending to admonish Angel for being so crass, she opened her mouth.  Only to have it covered by Angel’s.  She forgot all about discouraging him as she sagged against his muscled body.  His kisses were merciless, demanding, and she gave in to every one of his demands.  She whimpered, rising up on her tiptoes for better access as she offered herself to him.  With a growl of satisfaction, he twined one hand through her hair, grabbing a handful of her golden tresses as he used the other arm to anchor her to him.

He drew her tongue out of her mouth and nursed it roughly.  When she needed to breathe, he broke from her mouth in search of her neck.  He pressed rough kisses into the flesh, taking small pieces of skin between his still smooth teeth and suckling.  Buffy moaned aloud, unable to stop.  Angel pressed into her fully, his erection jutting insistently into her stomach.

Buffy’s eyes shot open.

This wasn’t going to work.  She and her friends at Hemery, before she was called, looked at the anatomy text books.  Buffy understood the mechanics of sex, but she also knew that short of a miracle, nothing could make that thing goring into her the stomach fit inside her body.  They weren’t supposed to be that big!

Buffy braced her hands on his shoulders and pushed him forcefully away, backing up the stairs toward the stacks.  They were both panting raggedly as she retreated.

 "Uh, Angel, this isn’t going to work," she sputtered nervously.

He looked momentarily perplexed. He shook his head, as if to clear it.

"Oh, okay," he said acerbically, advancing once again.  "What exactly isn’t working?  You thinking about your little boytoy again?"

"Uh, no ...  There’s a problem," she blurted out defiantly, reaching the raised landing the bookshelves were housed on and continuing backwards.

" ... and the problem is?" he prompted in irritation as he too reached the landing.

"Size," Buffy exclaimed triumphantly.

Angel stopped and looked at her.  "Size of what?" he asked, confused.

"Of your ... um ... discomfort," she said, nervous again, gesturing towards his groin.

Angel stared at her blankly for several seconds and then let out a roar of laughter.

"That’s a new one.  I assure you, I haven’t had any complaints in the past," he stated, grabbing Buffy by the wrist and pulling her against his heavily aroused body.

His mouth covered hers again and despite her earlier protests, Buffy responded eagerly.  His hands roamed over her back, stopping to knead the soft flesh of her ass.  He slowly maneuvered both of their bodies to the floor.  When she lay flat on her back, Angel leisurely coaxed her legs apart and came to kneel between them, crouched over her body as he continued to kiss her deeply.

Slowly he brought his lower body into contact with hers as he braced the weight of his upper body on his forearms.  As her hips came to cradle his own, she gasped, arching up against him instinctively.

"Are you tight, baby? Is that it?" he asked tenderly between kisses.  "Don’t be afraid.  I won’t hurt you.  I can be so gentle.  I can make love to you in a hundred ways Riley can’t even begin to imagine."

He pressed his cock teasingly into her moist softness.  They both moaned.

"Tight is good, baby.  Better for both of us.  Makes it easier to feel things.  Makes the come more intense," he whispered huskily into her ear.

"I don’t understand how you’re going to fit," Buffy whimpered softly.

She felt Angle chuckle.  He propped himself up on his forearms and looked into her face.  She was blushing furiously.  "Maybe you just need a little extra preparation," he explained quietly.

Buffy’s brow furrowed.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Has anyone ever tasted you?" he asked seriously.
 
Buffy stared at him in shock.  She was mortified beyond belief and her blush deepened even further as she looked away from him to stare at the ceiling.

"I guess that’s a ‘no’," he stated.

Angel kissed her again deeply until he felt the tension start to leave her body.  When she had relaxed a bit angel whispered in her ear again, "I’ll taste your honey, Buffy.  Suck on you, make you come so hard.  After a few mind blowing orgasms, I’ll be able to slide into you like butter."

Angel pulled back and looked at Buffy.  She met his gaze, but still blushed.

"Oh," was her only response.

"Were your other lovers that really clumsy?" he asked incredulously.

"Not exactly," she explained.

Angel bent his head to nuzzle her neck again.

"Maybe they just weren’t as well endowed?" he offered, his voice full of ridiculous male pride.

"No," Buffy stumbled.

"No, what?" he asked, his eyes meeting her own.

She looked at him for a long while then dropped her gaze to stare at his chest.

"Just no," she said quietly.

Angel had a sinking suspicion.  What if she *hadn’t* been playing coy earlier.

He closed his eyes tightly for a moment and asked very calmly, "Buffy, have you had other lovers?"

He looked at her for a long while.  After several minutes she finally lifted her gaze to meet his.

"Well, I dated Tyler when I was still at Hemery, a-a-and we kissed and stuff," she said, rushing.  "But he never kissed me like you just kissed me ... " she trailed off.

Angel cringed, wanting to curl up and die.

"You’re a virgin," he said.

It wasn’t a question, though she answered it with a small nod of assent.  Angel rolled off of her and onto his back next to her body.  He threw his arm over his eyes and tried to calm himself.

He really did want to die.  He’d just molested the woman he was in love with against her will.  He’d been playing, but she hadn’t.  He cringed, gods she must hate him.

Angel was jolted from his self flagellation by the sound of a muffled sob.  He threw the arm off of his eyes and looked at Buffy.  She was sitting Indian style on the floor next to his sprawled body.  Her hands fidgeted in her lap, she was looking down at them with tears rolling down her face.

"What’s wrong?" Angel asked, terrified that he had done her physical harm.  He moved quickly into a sitting position next to her.

Buffy lifted her tear stained face to his.  A definite pout formed on her lips.  "I’m not a leper," she bit out trying to sound angry but coming off rather pathetic.

Angel was confused again.

"You had me fairly distracted earlier, but I really think I would remember calling you a leper," he said trying for humor.

It didn’t work, she bowed her head towards her lap again and sobbed quietly.

"Buffy?" he said softly, brushing the hair out of her face.

She shrugged off his touch and looked him in the face.

"I know I’m an almost twenty year old virgin and that makes me a big ol’ weirdo, but there’s nothing wrong with me physically.  I mean, I *can* have sex."  She wiped her nose on the back of her hand.  "I just haven’t wanted to ... I mean, not that anybody’s really ever offered.  Most guys are rather turned off by the scar and dykey camo fatigues I wear.  And the fact that I’m so strong is totally freaksome ..."

She dissolved in tears again.

"Buffy," Angel started softly.

Both of them startled as the library doors came swinging open.  Giles, head buried in a book, walked into the room.  Before Angel could react, Buffy was up and running, almost knocking Giles over as she sprinted past him.

Giles glanced around in bewilderment, eyes coming to rest on Angel’s seated form.  Their eyes locked for a long moment.  Angel broke the contact, laying back on the floor.  He threw one arm over his eyes while the other hand balled into a fist he pounded into the carpet.

"Damn!," he growled.

She was avoiding him.  After the incident in the library, Angel had searched all over Sunnydale.

No Slayer.

He felt like such a jackass.  He’d been so caught up in his own jealousy that he’d totally misread Buffy.  Everything about her demeanor, her reactions to his insinuations had screamed innocence.  He’d just been too angry to notice.  She wasn’t the worldly sex goddess he’d conjured up in his most private fantasies to both tantalize and torture himself, she was a naive young girl.  And he had probably just scarred her for life.

Angel pounded his first into a convenient brick wall.  The bricks crumbled and the skin on his knuckles shredded.  He stared at the blood.  It hurt.  But not nearly enough to make up for what he’d just done.

Angel began his long walk home to the mansion.

An hour later he walked into his living room and started a fire.  He felt a prickling at the back of his neck and rose from his squat.   Only one being on the planet caused him to react in such a manner.  He sighed in relief.

She was there, in the garden.  Slowly Angel walked through the French doors, stopping to study the Slayer seated on the marble bench.  Had it really only been a matter of weeks since she’d found him here?

Buffy studied him passively, her tears long dried.

"You’re hurt," she finally noted, her voice hoarse from crying.

Angel looked at his hand and then back at her as she walked past him into the living room.  She disappeared around the corner, probably headed for the first aid kit in his bathroom.  They’d been practicing one evening when she fell and scraped her knee, so she knew where it was located.

He hadn’t moved an inch while she was gone.  Sitting on the couch and opening the kit, she beckoned him to sit.  He obeyed.  He watched in wonder as she carefully cleaned his abraded skin and wrapped a sterile gauze around his hand, securing it with tape.  As she finished, he looked at her in disbelief.

"What?" Buffy asked self-consciously, acutely aware of her dirty, tear stained face.

"After what I just did, why would you care what happens to me?" he asked, voice full of self loathing.

Buffy looked at him thoughtfully and said, "You were jealous, right?  Because you thought I liked Riley."

"Yes," Angel answered bluntly.

"You could have just asked, you know," she said calmly.  "I would have told you ‘no’."

He just looked at her like she’d sprouted a second head.

Emboldened, she continued, "I also could have told you that I *do* like you.  A lot."

Angel didn’t bother to think, it always got him in trouble.

He grabbed his little golden goddess and pulled her roughly into his lap, kissing her soundly.  She met his ardor with equal enthusiasm, tightly gripping the back of his head with her tiny little hands as she offered him her tongue.  Gladly accepting her invitation, Angel twined his tongue with hers until they were both moaning.

Abruptly breaking off the kiss, Angel buried his face in her hair and held her firmly against his chest.  Buffy sat docilely in his embrace, allowing him to do as he pleased.  Angel was panting hard, but he simply held her until he had his body under control.

Buffy understood that he was trying to slow down for her sake and said, "It’s okay."

Pulled from his intense concentration on calming, Angel asked, "What’s okay?"

"It," she replied.  "I mean if you want to ... you know.  It’s all right."

Angel groaned.

"You have no idea what you’re saying, Buffy," he chided.

"We don’t have to wait," she said quietly, lightly scratching the nape of his neck.

"We’ll wait," Angel answered firmly, trying to ignore the reaction her touch was eliciting.

With a sigh, he urged her off of his lap and rose to stand beside her.

"What’s going on?" she asked.

"I’m walking you home, it’s late," he replied.

Buffy gladly took his proffered hand and allowed him to walk her home in the comfortable silence that had until recently marked most of their relationship.

As they reached her doorstep, she quietly asked, "Will you please stay with me?"

"Buffy," he said, "I already told you, it’s too soon."

"No," she clarified, "I don’t mean that.  Just stay with me, I don’t want you to leave."

With a small smile, Angel relented.

Quietly slipping beneath the covers next to Buffy, Angel drifted off into the first truly peaceful sleep he could remember.

In her lair, another vampire was doing anything but sleeping peacefully.  Jonathan yelped as she lashed out at him, clipping him painfully in the temple.

"Used," she hissed in outrage.  "You would dare give me your leftovers?"

The small vampire regarded his Mistress sheepishly from the floor.  If she’d been at full strength, he wouldn’t have dared to give her a human he’d already fed from, but she was still weak.  He winced as he gently probed his wounded head with the tips of his fingers.  He’d severely underestimated her powers.  Even drastically weakened, she was more than a match for him, a mere fledgling, only six weeks out of the grave.

"I-i-it won’t happen again," he stuttered.

"I know it won’t," she replied darkly.

Rising to her feet, she grabbed a nearby robe and covered her pale skin.  Not out of modesty, of course.  Jonathan was well used to seeing her nude, even if she felt he didn’t particularly deserve the pleasure of her body.  As much as it sickened her, at the moment she needed the tiny weakling.

"How is your ... research ... coming?" she drawled, hiding her irritation.

He smiled in relief.  "Good," he chirped.  "I’ve made lists of all of the White Hats and the Slayer’s patrol routes."

Willow smiled in genuine pleasure.  Every now and then, Jonathan proved himself worthy of existing.

"Wonderful," she said, a wicked smile sliding across her lips.

The End