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!

...upward. Willow is quite insistent, so I allow her to lead me where she wants me to go.

I end up completely on top of her. In fact, I’m still trying to get myself settled without putting my full weight on her as those petal-soft lips affix themselves to my neck. The roll of her tongue against my Adam’s apple almost turns my arms to jelly. As it is, I end up crashing down directly on top of her.

Willow clutches me tightly before I get the chance to pry myself up, which brings me to a whole new set of problems. Now, not only are we back to being chest-to-chest, but without the protective layers of our clothes, my cock is pressed directly into the moist warmth of her sex. The thought alone almost causes me to vamp out.

What is that expression? ‘Lead me not into temptation -- I’ll find it myself, thank you’.

Well, shit.

Control. I have to find my control.

The first thing I have to do is to get Willow to stop fanning the flames. Working toward that end, I force myself to pull my head away from her amazing mouth. Willow’s hands are still clutching me against her, so I can’t go too far, though.

Not that I mind.

But the separation proves to be enough, at least for the time being. After I manage to suppress my baser instincts, I find myself unable to resist running the length of my cock against her hot, moist slit. The gentle teasing makes Willow groan. As a reward, I lower my head and brush my lips against hers. We exchange a few easy kisses, but...

...as good as Angel’s kisses feel, it doesn’t change the fact that we’re on a rug on the floor -- a very hard, very stone floor at that. I know he doesn’t mean to, but Angel’s weight is pressing me into the unforgiving concrete. I squirm a little, hoping to find a more comfortable position, but my movement has a *very* unexpected side effect. Because as soon as I shift, I feel the very tip of Angel’s...of Angel...accidentally slide shallowly into the entrance of my body.

Time seems to come to a standstill as we both freeze into place. For some reason, I get a mental image of a perfectly balanced playground see-saw. I can feel that Angel’s position in me is extremely tenuous. Not surprising because it’s probably less than an inch of his length inside. If either one of us so much as twitches in the wrong direction, he will slip completely out of me. And yet, at the same time, he can’t exactly ‘accidentally’ slide further in, either.

Which is exactly what my heart and body are screaming to happen.

This mental picture comes to me -- one where I’m standing on the edge of a cliff almost ready to fall. The problem I have, though, is that a part of me *really* wants to jump over the edge. Deep down I know this is wrong, that we shouldn’t be here doing this. God forgive me, but I just don’t care.

I want this. More than anything I can ever remember wanting.

Maybe that’s why I squirm ever so slightly, and end up with Angel’s length...

...pistoning straight into her waiting passage.

Oh Jesus. Oh sweet Jesus.

“Don’t move!” I growl, using the weight of my upper body to pin Willow out of sheer desperation.

I can feel her inner muscles spasming as they try to accommodate my sudden intrusion. That alone is pushing me over the edge. If she so much as moves, this is all going to be done even before it starts.

She’s so hot. And tight -- tighter than Buffy -- which surprises me. Buffy was a virgin, Willow obviously is not.

That’s when it hits me. I’m *in* Willow. I’m a part of her in a way I never even dared to dream of...

...dream. Oh God! What am I doing? What are we doing? Buffy...Oz...we shouldn’t...the curse...oh shit!! The curse!!

I have to end this. I have no choice.

Bracing my weight on my arms, I move my hips. The feeling as I slide my hard cock slowly out of Willow’s wet warmth makes both of us groan. I’m almost completely out of her when I make the mistake of looking her directly in the eye...

“Please,” I beg him. Maybe it’s the deep, mournful look of regret I see in his eyes, but somehow I know that he’s about to pull himself out of me entirely.

“Please, Angel,” I plead in a choked whisper.

It must have some effect on him, because he stops moving entirely. I can read the turmoil in his expression, Angel’s inner conflict over doing what he wants to do and doing what’s right. The dark head shakes once as I feel his muscles tense. That’s it then, he’s made his choice and it’s ov...

...ooooooh, I moan as he sinks deeply into me.

Again.

And again.

His strokes are long, wringing sounds out of me that I never realized I was capable of making. Each thrust is slow and precise and perfectly timed so he rubs against my clit as soon as he’s in me as far as he can go.

And it’s driving me...

...crazy.

I doubt that she even knows she’s doing it, but Willow’s hips are matching me thrust for thrust. Just to keep her off-balance, I abandon my slow, careful thrusts for a series of pounding, rapid ones. Willow’s reaction is immediate -- her nails dig deeply into the skin of my back as she struggles to keep up with my change of pace. Once she adjusts, I revert back to the lazier thrusts that we started with.

Fast, then slow, then fast again -- only without any indication of when the switch will happen. There is a certain logic for changing the rhythm like this. The quicker, harder strokes stimulate her clit while the slower ones allow me -- or by extension, my cock -- to tease what they refer to these days as her g-spot. Judging by the spasms of her interior muscles, I think it’s safe to say that I’m successfully driving her as insane as she has been doing to me since the first moment we kissed.

I’m about to speed up my thrusts again when one of Willow’s tiny hands clamps down on my ass with all the force of a Morah demon. It doesn’t take much effort on my part to break free of her grip, though, which is exactly what I do. My hips are rocking faster than *I* ever dreamed possible, determined to give Willow everything that I can. Tiny shudders are coursing through her body, heralding the orgasm that we both know is about to overtake her.

When she comes, Willow lets out a yell that echoes throughout the emptiness of the room. It takes me a moment to realize that it’s my name that she’s cried out and that, more than anything else, sends me right to the precipice. It’s all I can do to keep from coming right along with her.

That’s when I freeze.

Oh God, what am I doing? The curse! I was thinking about the curse! How could I have forgotten...well, Willow is certainly enough of a distraction.

I raise my head, my eyes uselessly wandering around the room as I search for something -- *anything* -- to provide a distraction from the heaven that is making love to Willow. Purely by accident, I catch a glimpse out of the corner of my eye of the thing could be the answer to my problem.

“Willow,” I whisper, resuming my thrusts into her demanding body. Even to my own ears, my voice is low, made sultry by our present actions. When she doesn’t respond right away, I call her name again, this time in a more forceful tone. Her movements still as she finally realizes that I’m calling for her attention. “Wrap your legs around me,” I instruct before I seal our mouths together in a searing kiss.

As soon as she does so, I cradle her buttocks in my hands. I shift her slight weight with ease, picking her directly up off the floor. Willow helps a little by coiling her arms around the back of my neck. My lips never leave hers as I move us both across the room. It’s tricky, but with a little care, I manage to keep my cock from slipping out of her during the process. Somehow, I get the impression that Willow isn’t even aware that we’ve moved at all.

In reality, it’s only fifteen or so paces to our destination. My mind, however, is on other things at the moment -- like how incredible it feels to actually be inside her. Maybe that’s why it seems like an eternity before Willow’s back hits the wall of the mansion’s living room.

A small, gasping breath moves from her mouth to mine as she brushes up against the cold, stone surface. I pivot quickly, though, reversing our positions before I begin lowering our still-entwined bodies to the floor. Only when we are safely there does Willow relax her arms and legs.

She is quick to find a position so that we can continue with our love making. We end up sitting upright, her thighs draped over mine. Willow’s palms are pressed flat against the floor behind her to give her the leverage she needs to move her body, a task she wastes no time resuming.

Normally, I like the freedom that’s inherent in this position. It opens both upper bodies to exploring hands and -- with a great deal of leaning forward -- roving lips and mouths. That’s not to mention the fact that it leaves most of the work up to Willow.

Not that she seems to mind.

Willow is roughly pressing her pelvis up against mine, taking as much of my cock as she can with each pounding thrust. God, I love it. I love the extra pressure against my dick as it sinks deeply into her waiting depths. I love the slight distance between us that allows me to see her face so clearly. I love watching her rosebud-tight nipples sway tantalizingly with every move that she makes.

As much as I love everything about this act, I don’t forget that we are over here for a purpose. Grabbing a hold of one of the chains mounted deeply into the wall, I press one of my wrists into the cuff and close the locking mechanism.

The distinctive ‘clink’ of metal on metal attracts Willow’s attention. Her movements slow as she tries to make sense of what is going on here.

“What’re you doing?” she asks in a voice made sultry by our activities.

“Protecting both of us,” I answer in a tone that’s all business.

“What?!?”...




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