Cold Comfort III: Fulfill Me

Written By: Lar

Hair as lush and dark as mink lay over his arm, a silken fall that just demanded the touch of his fingers. He fought the urge to wake her, satisfied himself instead with the petting of this part of her. For now. She'd wake soon enough. And he could be patient when it suited him.

Every day that passed, he found himself more and more ensnared in the web of her. She had drawn him in with her vulnerability, her completely open admission of who she had been and what she had done, her painfully blunt need to be something new, something different.

Her obvious trust in him to get her to that place.

Hundreds of years passed by him in a blur as he did the photo memory shuffle. Father, mother, sister. Serving wenches, barmaids. Minions and Masters and this Childe and that. None had ever handed themselves to him so freely, so absolutely, and said to him, "Make it right. You can do it. Only you." No one trusted him like she did.

It scared him. Quite a lot. So he tended not to think about it more than, oh, a million times a day. In fact, whenever he wasn't physically touching Faith, Angel was mentally holding her, his thoughts wrapped around her like his body longed to be. His formally deceased libido had gone into overdrive, as if making up for a hundred years of lost time. //Reports of the death of my sex life are seriously exaggerated//

He'd had dedication to his wants before as Angelus - fighting, fucking, hunting. He'd denied them all as Angel, until now. This had a drive beyond even the wildest bloodlust he'd ever felt.

She stirred under his hand and he floundered between praying she'd wake and give him her eyes and that slow bedeviled smile, and hoping she'd sleep just a little more so he could watch her. She settled in again and her face was framed in the light from the window. //Even the moon wants to touch her//

Christ, he was getting poetic in his obsession. //Shades of the demon that bit me// A bitter grin touched his mouth momentarily and was gone in a flash. Best not to rattle that particular cage now; it figured to get rattled soon enough. Considering how his existence usually panned out to the lowest common denominator, any day now Faith would be leaving him for something better, someone real, someone who could give her everything he couldn't. She'd never know how he felt, what he saw in her. She'd never hear him tell her that he felt his best with her because she let him, just let him be what he was.

That was all it took, the thought of how she had accepted him had him burning to be deep inside of her again. He brushed a cool finger across those amazing lips and she opened them just the tiniest bit, the pink of her tongue peeking out to lick where he had touched.

//Jesus// He was hard, completely hard, at just the thought of that mouth. Restraining himself, he said over and over that he would be slow, he would be gentle, he would this time, he really would. And while his mind was busy telling him that, his hands were busy pulling her up to him so he could kiss her fully awake. Languid kisses of her full mouth, trailing briefly up to the thin skin of her eyelids, tender and infinitely lovely with the faint tracery of veins. Back down to the endless fulfillment her mouth could give him, and she was awake now. She was opening those lips, inviting him into her with a tiny little sigh that made him groan.

Her arm came up to cup his face as she rolled to her side and slipped up against him. She pressed her hips tight against him, acknowledging the hard length that seemed to strain towards her as if it was seeking its home. Briefly breaking the kiss, she opened those amazing eyes and stared at him. Licked her lower lip, just because she knew what it did to him, as if she read his mind.

"Missed me, did you?" she whispered to him, and then kissed him quick so he didn't have to try and fumble out an answer and try to explain away his need for her. She didn't want to hear him try to diminish it. That would take away the power of it all, mar the rightness of it. She knew that what was happening to them was something on a higher plane, realized he was having issues with accepting it, figured he would get there soon enough. He was a bright boy. It would come to him by and by. At least he wasn't denying the pull of this need for each other. She would never abide falsehoods again, not in herself and not in another. That was the old way, and it was closed to her for all time now.

To keep him from talking, from thinking, she moved her kisses to his ear. The tip of her tongue dipped into the perfect shell and then her warm breath drifted inside of his head. She was so gentle, so patient in her work here at the altar of his body; she worshipped in devotion. Her tongue swept to the outer rim and then to the tender place behind it and that's all it did, all it took to have him grab her and pull her onto him, wanting to be deep inside of her.

But this time she slipped out of his grasp, seated herself on his chest instead, smiled at him in a way that promised tortures to come. "What's your rush, lover?" she purred at him, hands on his cheeks in a warm caress.

He dropped his arms to the bed in surrender, his eyes darker than usual, too full of desire to hold anything else. He wanted to take her in a rough rush, his body screamed at him to do just that, but he reined it in and lay there. He even managed to rasp out a twisted little sound that might have been assention. She took it as such and leaned over to brush her hair against his smooth pale chest. He shuddered, just once, and touched her face with his fingertips while it was still hidden behind the curtain of chocolate silk. Faith captured one finger in her mouth, bit down gently, then harder, before releasing it.

Slowly sliding down his body, allowing his cock to slip right between her legs and over the wet cleft where she knew he wanted to be buried, Faith's eyes never left Angel's. If he'd had a heartbeat, it would have been doing double time. He watched the head of his shaft come peeking up between her breasts, under her neck and then there it was at her mouth. Waiting. She was waiting, looking for something in his eyes. And just to give him something to think about, she brought her tongue over those lips again with all the deliberate slowness of a trained courtesan.

Granted, not much was functioning in Angel's brain at this point. He was reduced to thinking in single words. //Want. Need. Now...// But he couldn't quite get his mouth to work. Thankfully his vocal cords were functioning on their own; he was groaning and ... yes, Christ, he was whimpering.

She saw him struggling and couldn't let it go on. And hell, let's be honest, she wanted it as much as he did, wanted to taste him again and make him moan. She wanted to see the pleasure take him and know that she was the one who could give this to him.

So she gave him her mouth, took him in slowly, tongue swirling over the head, tasting the bittersweetness of the liquid already there, making him wet enough to slide right into the depths of her throat. Her hands cupped the soft sac below, one finger rubbing in that surprisingly tender spot that brought a string of words from him that made no sense to her now. She only knew it meant she had the right spot. Keeping one hand there, cupping and rubbing, the other came up to wrap around the length of him. She let her hand follow her mouth up and up, until her tongue was tracing that sensitive ridge and he was held everywhere by those hands and those lips. She breathed in the essence of him: essential Angel.

Opening her fingers, she gave him a long lick, base to tip, and stared until he raised his head and looked at her. Only when she was sure he was watching did she continue, hair pushed behind her ears so he had the best view of her swallowing him in and down. Eyes locked, black on brown, he got a jolt that went beyond the incredible things she was doing to him with her mouth, tongue, hands, fingers - Jesus, everything. Watching her watch him made it as if they were joined somewhere else, somewhere beyond mouth and cock, fingers and flesh. He felt ... connected completely on a level that he'd only been guessing about in his darkest thoughts and hopes.

He couldn't have blinked if he wanted to right now, terrified she would stop looking at him, absolutely insane at the notion of her not continuing to lick and suck and rub, yes, right there. He was going to come in a second, and he wanted to wait because this felt too good to have it end right now. He could watch that nude Botticelli vision go down on him for ever and forever, and as if that thought was enough, he lost his grip on it all and he was filling her mouth with himself, his entire being was going into her as she swallowed and licked and swallowed again.

Faith was shuddering herself, her own orgasm sweeping through her as she saw him look into her eyes, saw him get that glazed over expression that told her it was going to happen any second, and then the flash of total insight he got was communicated to her. Angel's revelation twisted her insides into the good tight knot she wanted, and the gush of fluid in her mouth and down her throat took her the rest of the way there.

Her head drooped down and she kissed the part of him that she still held in her hand. Angel's hands reached for her again and she released one piece of flesh for another. His hands were over hers, around her wrists, drawing her up his body. His arms were around her then, holding her to him in a light embrace that made her feel like she was some kind of precious treasure, well guarded and highly prized. He kissed her softly, once, twice, then a gentle invasion of the inside of her mouth where he tasted himself mingled with the flavor of Faith. If he could drink that down, fill himself with it, then he would never need anything again to sustain him. No bloodrush had ever compared to a dose of Faith, the texture of her skin, the taste of her sweat, the sound of her climax, the sweetness of her trust.

He listened to her heartbeat, remembered the words she had fed him over and over again, the oaths he had swallowed down and kept in his soul, treasures he was afraid to even examine for fear that they would tarnish and fade to dust in the light of reason. Like he was afraid he would wither and blow away if she ever found out how he felt and left him, found him lacking.

//Does she know what she says? Does she mean it or is it just words and sounds that slide out of her when she comes for me?// Angel laid his head on Faith's chest and let her hold him. Her arms were around his shoulders, his own circled her hips. Her heart was beating slower and slower now, returning to normal. His thoughts slowed as well and he found himself slipping into sleep. She was sliding down with him, too. Her fingers laced together so she could hold on without much effort, reluctant to release him even for a second.

Right before his eyes closed, Angel heard her say them again, heard her say the words and knew she was braver than he had ever hoped or feared. Braver than he was.

And they slipped into each other's dreams together.

The story concludes in "Cold Comfort IV: Here There Be"

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