Title: Scattered Thoughts: Promise You Forever
Author: JR
Email: JRR42@yahoo.com
Rating: NC-17 If you shouldn’t be here, be somewhere else.
Episode spoilers: Doppelgangland, Prom, G1 & 2, set between G2 and Buffy season 4/Angel season1
Archive: My site only! If you want to link to it, please contact me to let me know where.
Series/Sequel: Follows ‘Scattered Thoughts: The Road Has Come to an End’, but you *don’t* have to read that before this -- this one can stand alone.
Previous parts: www.angelfire.com/de/theparlor/buffy.html.
Disclaimer: Angel, Willow, et al, are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and the WB. All characters are used without permission. This story is not intended to infringe upon any copyrights, nor is any profit being made from it.
Thanks: As always, to Carrie and to Marius especially for coming through at the 11th hour. You two are the best :-) Thanks so much for all the work you do!

...so badly. Ever since she licked her lips, I feel like she’s cast some kind of spell over me. There’s this strange sense of...*rightness* in holding her, like for this one brief moment in time, we are supposed to be here, doing just this. For the first time in almost four years, the part of my brain that is normally obsessed with Buffy is oddly silent. Perhaps that is what gives me the courage to lean forward.

For all her naivete, Willow knows what’s about to happen. Her eyes -- already bloodshot and swollen -- grow round as saucers. Does she want this, I wonder? Is she frightened? Scared? Excited? Hopeful? What? C’mon Willow, give me a sign, a signal, *something* to work with here.

Then, by some miracle of miracles, my wish is granted. The sound is so soft, I almost miss it. As it is, I’m not quite sure how to categorize it -- half-moan, half whimper...and totally enthralling. To me, it sounds like a plea, one that I quickly respond to.

Taxing my reflexes to their utmost, my lips are fused to hers before her heart can beat a second time. There is no tenderness in the way our mouths devour each other. I will never know which of our tongues came out to play first, but at the same time, I know I will never forget the sensual way they are twisting together.

Her mouth is warm, oh so so warm, and sweet, like the taste of pure honey as it rolls across the tastebuds. Such pitiful descriptions for something that is heaven on earth. As increduous as it may sound, for the moment heaven is mine to explore.

Using tongue, teeth and lips, I search every part of Willow’s mouth that I can reach. Along the way, I keep making mental notes of her reactions -- the way she sighs as my tongue tickles the roof of her mouth, the breathy moan that I am rewarded with as I lick broadly against her bottom lip. Better yet, Willow isn’t satisfied with playing the innocent bystander. Her own explorations are dragging a few involuntary noises out of me as well.

A few moans and sighs aren’t my body’s only reaction to the situation. As our kisses drag on, I feel that old, hauntingly familiar pressure as the stolen blood in my veins starts headed in a southerly direction. Oh terrific.

The way Willow is half-sitting on my lap is going to make it nearly impossible for me to disguise what’s happening below my waistline. Since I’m not sure how she’ll...react, this could be a really bad thing. And yet, the absolute last thing I want to do right now is end these fantastic kisses.

Without warning, Willow disengages her mouth from mine, sucking in a huge, gasping breath as she does so.

“Need to breathe!” she exclaims, panting to fill her obviously aching lungs.

Helpless to stop myself, I stare down at her. The angle with which I’m looking affords me a magnificent view -- from Willow’s red, kiss-swollen lips straight down to the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Even with the awkward line of sight, I can clearly see the peaks of her nipples as they strain forward against the clinging fabric of her thin sweater.

Oh God, the ideas floating through my head right now -- maybe I’d better say *both* heads.

My lips are still tingling from our kisses, the sweet taste of her still fills my mouth, and yet all I can think about is having...

...more. I want more -- more smoochies, more more-than-smoochies. I want to do all the naughty things I did with Oz a few days ago, only this time, I want to do them with Angel.

Oz! And Buffy!! Oh God, what am I doing? And, more importantly, what is Angel doing? I thought Buffy was supposed to be his big, Buttercup-perfect-romance-soul-mate person. If that’s the case, then what the heck is he doing kissing me? Maybe I should ask him.

I open my mouth to speak, but my brain is more than a little jumbled at the moment. Before I can formulate a syllable, let alone a sentence, Angel shocks me by bringing one of his hands up to my face. I can barely feel his touch as he gently runs the backs of his fingers along my cheek.

“You are so beautiful, Willow,” he whispered softly.

My mind goes into automatic denial. He must be confusing me with Buffy. She’s the pretty one, the love of his life...waitasecond...he called me by my name. *My* name. He called me ‘Willow’.

My eyes fly up to his in total shock. I peer deeply into the rich, chocolaty brown searching for something...what exactly, I’m not sure. What I find there is a mix of things -- a hint of amusement and complete honesty. But that’s not all. I can’t help but gulp as I see something that, despite my lack of experience, I can’t help but recognize immediately.

Lust.

Uh...ooooh. Definitely ooooh as Angel swoops down and kisses me again. There’s something different this time, though -- more...passion...maybe? Or maybe urgency is a better word. Then again, why am I thinking of words to describe it? Carpe diem!

Our kisses seem to go on forever, which is more than fine by me. Angel even remembers to let me breathe from time to time. He’s always so thoughtful, especially when he’s trailing kisses away from my mouth. Crossing over my cheek he nuzzles in my hair to find my ear. It tickles, which sends a big chill down one entire side of body.

As good as his tongue feels as it traces along the edge of my ear, I still feel kind of...apart from him now that we aren’t exactly kissing. My hands are joined together on the back of his neck, but my hold is loose since he moved himself a little off to my side. Unclasping my fingers, I let the fingers of one hand twine themselves into his short, dark hair. I’m a little amazed at how soft it is -- considering that Angel is dead and all. I’ve always wondered whether or not his hair actually grows. I mean, it’s a little longer now than when we first met him three years ago. But if he’s dead -- how does that work?

A throaty groan in my ear interrupts my mental wanderings. I wonder what caused...oh my! While I was distracted, my other hand seems to have wandered aimlessly down Angel’s chest. Under my flat-stretched palm I can feel the protrusion of a rock-hard nipple. Suddenly it hits me that my accidental discovery must have been the cause of Angel’s obvious pleasure.

Hmm, a naughty feeling overcomes me, and before I let my common sense convince me that it’s a bad idea, I force my hand to slide down a little. I’m a bit clumsy as I try to find the little bit of hardened flesh underneath the dark shirt Angel is wearing. More by accident than by design, I finally find that for which I’m searching.

It’s hard to say which of us is more surprised as I deliberately pinch that sensitive flesh between my thumb and index finger. Angel’s whole body twitches in response, leaving me to wonder if my actions really caused it. But all doubt is removed from my mind as I feel Angel’s back arch a little.

So he likes that, does he? That little voice in the back of my head that’s screaming this is a bad idea is silenced by the incredible empowerment I’m feeling. Curious to see what else will happen, I squeeze the tight flesh again. Angel’s reaction is much more pronounced this time -- another arch and a groan.

With Angel’s mouth already next my ear, the passionate sound he makes vibrates straight down my body, ending up...there...in *that* place. Without meaning to, I...

...moan. What that little sound coming from her does to me is enough to make my inner-demon cheer like a pep squad. I can’t help it. Even the *demon* can’t help it. I can only wonder if Willow has *any* idea of what the tiny sounds from her throat are doing to me.

And her hands...oh by all that’s holy, it feels so good. My nipples have always been extremely sensitive, and Willow’s teasing is only fanning the flames of my desire for her. Already I can feel myself heading way too quickly towards critical mass.

I have to slow down before I end up embarrassing both of us. I need Willow to back away before I start losing control, but how? The last thing I want to do is give her the impression that she’s doing anything wrong. If anything, she’s doing things *too* well. Control. I need to get the upper hand.

And if I happen to enjoy myself along the way, all the better.

Maybe it’s time for a little tit for tat. I cannot believe I just actually thought that. Just a bit of subliminal thinking there, boyo? Nothing like bad puns to get my mind off of more...pressing matters. Sure, if the ‘matter’ is the one currently pressing against my zipper.

I need more. I need to give *her* more. Fortunately, my body is perfectly willing to take over now that my *other* head seems to be doing my thinking for me.

Giving the lobe of Willow’s ear one last apologetic kiss, my lips trace gently along the curving slope of her jawbone. Instinctively, my mouth is drawn to the graceful line of her neck -- to the tangle of blood-rich veins that are pulsing rapidly underneath her smooth skin. Fighting back against the impulse of my demon, I’m careful to skim quickly over the area of greatest temptation. That act proves to be one of the most difficult of my life when I hear a moan tinged with disappointment come from somewhere deep within Willow.

Stifling a moan of my own, I turn my attention to one of her sloping shoulders. Using both teeth and tongue, I nibble and lick my way along the exposed collarbone, stopping only when I reach the barrier created by her thin, low-cut sweater. Having explored one side to my satisfaction, my mouth retraces its path, pausing only momentarily to taste the gentle hollow at the base of Willow’s throat with my tongue. From there I move onward, giving her other shoulder similar treatment to the first.

Oh God, Willow’s fingers are suddenly tangling themselves into my hair. Yes. Oh yessss...that’s it. Harder. Pull harder. The hint of pain in my scalp as she tugs on my hair is not only doing incredible things to me but to my demon as well.

Before I know it, my mouth is moving again, following the seam of her sweater down her cleavage. Whoa. Even when she was dressed in her evil-double’s leather get-up, I didn’t realize that she was...she is...she has such nice...proportions.

Sparing a glance upward, I almost come at the sight of her. Willow’s head is thrown back, her mouth slightly open as she all but pants in out-and-out desire. Whether she realizes it or not, her back is arched, pressing her breasts forward to beg for my attention. As if I hadn’t already noticed them.

As if I wasn’t already fighting off my instinct to rip her sweater off and get much closer to them.

With her eyes closed, I realize it’s the perfect time to do something unexpected. While I continue to nuzzle in the very most bottom ‘v’ of her neckline, I carefully lift one hand from its resting place on her back. As I guessed, Willow doesn’t even seem to notice the change.

Perhaps that’s why she is so surprised when I place the flat of my hand directly against her left breast.

“Angel!” she gasps, her body surges forward to increase the pressure as hard as she is able.

I can’t help grinning into her cleavage as my hand tightens around the mound it holds, testing the shape and weight of it. A perfect fit. Somehow, though, it doesn’t really surprise me. I don’t know why, but this whole situation just has an inexplicable sense of ‘rightness’ to it.

Without conscious thought, my fingers shift, pinching together around the sensitive, taut nipple. Willow gasps involuntarily at the feeling, unaware that the air rushing into her lungs presses her chest forward even further toward my waiting hand...and mouth.

Oh yes. It would take a stronger creature than I can ever hope to be not to give in to the temptation of kissing such a perfect breast -- not when it’s resting just a scant few inches below my mouth. As tenderly as I can manage, my lips journey downward until I manage to find her other hard peak, concealed under the fuzzy layer of her sweater.

Rapturous moans fill the air around us, and to my surprise, I realize that only some of them are hers. Oh yes, I’m feeling this, too. In fact, I’m so hard right now that my pants are more than a little restrictive.

And it is not enough.

It doesn’t take much prodding from my demon before I capture one pebble-hard bud between my teeth. I bite down sharply while at the same time squeezing its counterpart almost cruelly between my index finger and thumb.

Willow’s response is almost immediate and just about drives me to distraction. The feeling of her short, rounded nails raking down my back pulls a genuine groan of ecstasy from somewhere deep inside me. When exactly did the little witch manage to work one hand up underneath my shirt?

And why should she have all the fun?

Inching my face away as little as possible, my free hand flies down to the hem of her sweater. I fumble with it for a moment, which is long enough for Willow to make an assumption of what she thinks I intend to do. Trying in her own lust-filled way to assist me, she leans back a bit so that I can work my hand inside her clothing.

Which might have been helpful if that was what I had in mind.

Instead, I use the arm I have wrapped around her back to pull her closer to me. By doing so, it makes it easier for me to grab two handfuls of fuzzy material and tug the offending garment upward. It gets tangled for an impossibly long moment by her other arm, which is wrapped tightly around the back of my neck so that she can keep her rather precarious balance. Shifting a bit, she lets go long enough for me to slide the sweater up and off of her completely.

Wow. Green satin has never looked so good before. Then again, it’s never had an accessory as beautiful as Willow. As pretty as the colour is, it can’t hold a candle to the flushed, milk-coloured skin it rests upon. I take one lingering last look at the soft material before I dive forward and find her mouth once again.

Willow is matching me kiss for kiss, her tongue driving deeper into my mouth just as mine is doing to hers. Somewhere in the lust-filled fog that has settled over my brain, I feel something clawing at my back. It takes a second before I realize that Willow is desperately trying to remove the grey pullover I’m wearing. Without breaking our kiss, I move my arms up and grab a hold of the back of my shirt. Her fingers are already exploring my stomach even as I tug the barrier between us off completely.

Seeing as how my hands are free, I decide to remove the last remaining barrier between us. Not for the first time in my long life, I find myself cursing the bastard who designed these things. I feel like a total idiot as I fumble with the clasp of her bra. In fact, it is more by accident than by design when the damned thing finally opens. But I’m not the only one in a hurry. With a little careful maneuvering, she quickly shrugs out of the binding garment.

As much as I want to look at the glory that is Willow, my need to *feel* her is much more overwhelming. Apparently, her thoughts must be similar to my own because within the span of a single heartbeat, we lunge for each other.

Then, *finally*, we are skin...




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