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The Silken Cage: Journey	By : margotlefaye Category: -Buffy the Vampire Slayer > Het - Male/Female > Angel(us)/Buffy > Angel(us)/Buffy Views: 21206 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel or any of the characters therefrom. No profit is being made from this work of fanfic, which is intended as commentary on the original, not as a derivative work. No infringement intended.

Chapter List
- 1-The Silken Cage: Journey
- 2-Part 2
- 3-Part 3
- 4-Part 4
- 5-Part 5
- 6-Part 6
- 7-Part 7
- 8-Part 8
- 9-Part 9
- 10-Part 10
- 11-Part 11
- 12-Part 12
- 13-Part 13
- 14-Part 14
- 15-Part 15a
- 16-Part 15b
- 17-Part 16
- 18-Part 17
- 19-Part 18
- 20-Part 19
- 21-Part 20
- 22-Part 21
- 23-Part 22a
- 24-Part 22b
- 25-Part 23
- 9
- 10
- 11
She lay with her cheek pressed to the cool skin of his chest, her head pillowed above his heart, which did not beat comfortingly in her ear. The arms wrapped about her, if gentle at the moment, yet enclosed her as firmly as bands of steel. Though not asleep, they had lain together unspeaking for perhaps twenty minutes, since the latest storm of their passion had raged through them, spending its fury in their flesh. In her soul, another battle raged, engendered by his earlier words.
You belong to me, my love….Forever. That's the whole point.
Did she? Had she ceased to belong to herself and become, not Angel’s, but Angelus’? Was this one more thing to weep for?
She loved Angel so completely. The knowledge that they couldn't give expression to their love by making love had been cruel and painful. Angel's desperate and ultimately futile move to LA was an effort to lessen the torment they were both in from being close, but unable to be close enough. For Angelus, the closeness denied Angel was not forbidden. He was right. What she wanted from Angel only Angelus could give her. Had Buffy indeed been meant for Angelus, as he claimed? Was that why a second Slayer had been called? Would Faith rouse from her coma, redeemed, and continue the battle Buffy could no longer wage? Or would another be called in Faith’s place? Was this part of some unguessable plan by whatever power had made her a Slayer to begin with, something that balanced the scales between good and evil in a way she could not begin to imagine?
Buffy was so confused. She missed her friends, had missed them since he had spirited her out of Sunnydale and onto the ship, but never more so than right now, when she badly needed Giles’ steadiness, or Willow’s optimism, Oz’s unflappable cool, Xander’s humor. Even Anya’s bizarre take on things would have been welcome right now. Or Riley…. A fresh wave of grief swept Buffy for Riley. Someone else she couldn’t save. Like Billy Fordham. Or Kendra. Or Faith.
Or herself…
Pull yourself together, Summers, an inner voice admonished her. You're not defeated yet. You’re still breathing. And you’re on land, now. There has to be a way out of this.
Didn’t there?
You were meant for me. Made for me. Born for me…mine.
Part of her was furious that Angelus would dare attempt to tarnish her love for Angel by making it seem like merely a step toward his own conquest of her. Part of her feared there was a hideous grain of truth to what he said.
God, she missed Willow. What wouldn’t she give to be able to pour out the whole sorry tale to her best friend, to have someone help her find her way through this mess? But Willow wasn't here. Buffy was alone.
Buffy stirred uneasily and made to draw away from Angelus. His arms tightened around her.
"Bathroom," she grumbled by way of explanation. He relaxed and let her go.
She slipped out of the bed and out the door. A glance to her right showed her their bags, still sitting in the living room. She hesitated, wondering if she might find something to cover herself. But she had no reason to believe Angelus had packed a robe for her. In her week of captivity, she had grown used to walking around their cabin naked. There was really very little difference here. She wondered fleetingly where her modesty had gone. Oh, well, at least Hawaii was warm. She turned away from the living room and headed down the short hallway.
The bathroom was every bit as luxurious as the rest of the suite, mimicking the lush jungle outside and seeming more like a hidden grotto than a standard restroom. Several thick bath sheets were piled onto a tiled shelf that could be comfortably reached from either the shower or the separate bath. Like the washrags and towels by the sink, they were a deep, lush green. Cool green tiles, veined in black to emulate polished malachite, lined the roomy shower and the separate, sunken bath. The bath had definitely been built with honeymooners in mind. Two people could easily fit into it, even if one of them were as big as Angelus.
She could feel his seed damp on her thighs.
Buffy grabbed one of the fluffy washcloths and began to clean herself up. All the while, his words kept repeating themselves over and over in her head.
You were meant for me. Made for me. Born for me…mine.
He wanted everything I wanted.
Didn’t you ever wonder about the sheer poetic inevitability of it all?
You were meant for me. Made for me. Born for me…mine.
Buffy pressed the soothingly cool washcloth to the juncture of her thighs. She was exhausted emotionally, and debilitated by the drugs he had been feeding her. It would be so damned easy to give in completely to Angelus, to become what he wanted, to stop fighting…
So easy for anyone who hadn't been Chosen to be the one girl in all the world destined to fight the vampires and stop the spread of their evil.
In the end, you're always by yourself. You're all you've got. Whistler had told her that the last time she'd gone to face Angelus. Their confrontation had exacted a price from her in emotional pain she could never have conceived of until she had been called upon to pay it. But she had survived that battle. She would have to survive this one, as well. Buffy had learned, at bitter expense, that Whistler was right. Perhaps that was a lesson she needed to remember. Her friends weren't here, but she was. That would have to be enough.
Buffy rinsed the washcloth out and hung it to dry. Adjusting the tap water until it ran at a pleasantly chill temperature, she bathed her face. The cool water refreshed her a bit. She patted her face dry, then wrapped one of the plush bath sheets around herself, before taking stock of the amenities that had been provided. A pair of new toothbrushes, still in their packages, had been set out on the vanity, along with an unopened tube of the toothpaste she preferred. A bottle of her usual mouthwash sat unopened, next to a new package of her brand of dental floss. On a hunch, Buffy pulled open the very large medicine cabinet concealed behind the mirror. She was not surprised to find it stocked with toiletries and make up, all in her favorite brands and colors, down to the perfume she used. Somehow, Angelus had even managed to have a bottle of the same brand and shade of nail polish she had recently purchased, and hadn't yet had time to try, brought for her. That Angelus possessed such detailed knowledge of even the most intimate aspects of her life was unnerving. Buffy paled as she considered what else he might know. There weren't any tampons in the cabinet. But then, she wasn't due to start her cycle again for another week. Did he know that? She eyed the innocent bottle of nail polish. He probably did. Buffy quickly closed the cabinet back up, ripped open one of the packages containing a toothbrush, and began to clean her teeth. The routine tasks were calming. Her mind cleared a little and she reigned in her thoughts.
Willow's shoulder was not around to cry on. Giles wasn't standing by with sage and fatherly advice. Xander's wise cracks were about a thousand miles out of reach. She was going to have to get through this on her own.
What did she know?
First, that however convincing Angelus' words had sounded, they couldn’t be completely true. Some sort of greater power ordained Slayers, and that power had chosen her. That same power, whatever it was, always saw to it that she was where she needed to be. It had brought her to Sunnydale before she had ever heard the term "Hellmouth." It had seen to it that demonic activity in the 'dale was practically non-existent that first summer she had spent back in LA with her father. It had led her to a place where demons needed killing when she had run away after sending Angel to the demon dimension of Hell. And that power had sent a snowfall in the middle of a heat wave, her own personal miracle, the only thing that had kept Angel from suiciding in the sunlight last Christmas morning.
Well then, she told herself sternly, it stood to reason that that power wouldn't have done that if it had known that Angelus was going to turn again.
Unless it had plans for Angelus…and she were part of those plans.
It wasn't much to cling to, a wild idea, really. But she'd had wilder ones, and she had learned, in the past three years, to trust her instincts. She would do so now.
So, then, how did she go about subverting Angelus' plans, making what he was doing work for Good, not Evil? She bit her lip, thinking. Then smiled. Of course…
You were meant for me. Made for me. Born for me…mine.
If that were true, then so too was the corollary: that Angelus himself was meant for, made for, born for Buffy. Because the second thing she knew was that Angelus was as much in love with her as Angel had been. There was no safety for her in this, quite the opposite. But there might be, in addition to the danger, a weapon for her use.
Thoughtfully, Buffy picked up the hairbrush lying on the vanity, and began brushing out her hair. She twisted the long golden strands into a loose topknot, securing it with what she at first took to be the popular spring-mounted butterfly clips available at almost any drugstore or shopping mall. But of course Angelus would never permit his–mistress? captive? toy?–to adorn herself with anything so déclassé. The pins were cloisonné dragonflies done in the Art Nouveau en tremblent style. If they weren't originals, they were exquisitely detailed reproductions, almost as extravagant an indulgence as the silk items in her wardrobe. Buffy gave herself a final glance in the mirror. She looked suitably exotic, the gold and green dragonfly pins and the green of the bath sheet setting off the color of her eyes. She looked every bit the part of someone's mistress or captive or toy.
But she would be damned if she would play that part.
Buffy opened the cabinet and reached for her perfume, applying it sparingly to her pulse points. Satisfied, she replaced the bottle, closed the cabinet and left the bathroom. The door to the veranda didn't even tempt her. She had no illusions as to how long it would take Angelus to run her to earth if she tried to escape, or how he would punish her for the attempt. She was a fast learner. She wouldn't attempt to escape again, until she was sure she had a reasonable chance of getting away.
And that time might be long in coming. She couldn't let things continue as they were, with Angelus holding all the power. She was going to have to redress the balance, using the only weapon she had.
Herself.
To judge by Angelus' scowl when she returned to the bedroom, he had begun to get impatient. As his gaze flicked over her upswept hair and the dragonfly pins, however, his expression relaxed, and Buffy saw the familiar heat come into his eyes.
"Lovely," he said. Buffy gave him her most seductive smile and pitched her voice to be low and sultry.
"I hoped you'd approve," she purred--and dropped the towel.
Angelus surprised look was almost comic, but Buffy didn't dare laugh. She was playing for the highest stakes imaginable, and couldn't afford to tip her hand. She kept her smile seductive as she approached him, deliberately letting her tongue lick across her lips as she reached the bed where he reclined. She placed one knee on the mattress, by his hips, then languidly leaned forward, bracing her hands on his shoulders as she brought her other leg over his body so that she comfortably straddled his hips.
Angelus reaction was everything she'd hoped for, his erection springing to hard and insistent life against her belly. She raised up on her knees and pressed her damp cleft against him in a sensual caress that made both of them groan. Angelus brought his hands up to her hips, lifting her, intending to slam her down on his hungry rod. With a playful giggle, she twisted out of his grasp, before coming forward again to give him another teasing caress.
"Buffy," he growled, hips rising as he tried to force the issue.
"Naughty," she teased, pulling back once more. He stared at her in amazement. She dipped her head to kiss his mouth. It wasn't a quick kiss, although she had intended it to be so. But when she tasted his mouth, she didn't want to pull away. Instead, she swept her tongue across his firm lips, savoring his taste. He growled again, his tongue coming out to duel with hers. Her hips pushed forward, as she once more rubbed her cleft along the length of his staff, letting him feel her heat and her moisture, how ready she was for him.
Even if she wasn't going to take him just yet.
Buffy broke the kiss, nipping instead at Angelus' tight male nipples. He hissed approval.
God, she loved his body, Angel's body, so strong and sleek and beautiful. And so perfectly made for her. She needed to focus on that, and forget that a demon inhabited this beautiful temple of flesh, and no longer her beloved. If she thought too closely about what she was doing--giving herself to a murdering beast--her courage would fail her. And her desperate game would end before she had made the first move. Firmly, Buffy shut down her inhibitions, her doubts and her fears, concentrating instead on the pleasure to be had. She licked a path down Angelus chest, over his flat, hard abs sliding backwards until she was resting comfortably between his spread thighs. Then she devoted her attention to the long hard length of his manhood.
Angelus couldn't quite believe what was happening, but as she sucked him into the wet heat of her mouth, he decided he didn't particularly care. The important thing was that her talented little tongue was swirling over the head of his cock and her soft little hands were fondling his balls lovingly, not because he was forcing her, but because she wanted to.
Not that he didn't thoroughly enjoy force, but he liked variety even more. And her unexpected volte-face was a particularly delightful variation. Or, at least it seemed that way to him until an unpleasant reason for her seeming capitulation crossed his mind. Angelus twisted his fingers in her hair, careful not to dislodge the pins. He tugged gently. Obediently, she raised her head, giving him a puzzled look.
"Why did you make me stop?" she pouted, one hand reaching to continue stroking his hard shaft.
"Who am I?" he demanded harshly. Her brows raised in surprise at his question. But she understood what he feared.
"You're not Angel," she said calmly. "You're the Scourge of Europe. You're Angelus, one of the most vicious demons to ever walk the face of the earth."
His eyes narrowed. "That's right. So, Slayer…why have you stopped fighting me?"
She smiled at him, realizing that she was about to take another risk, hoping to heaven that she really did know this demon as well as she thought she did. She knew the answer he wanted from her. She knew the wrong answer might get her killed, or turned, or punished in ways she could not and did not want to imagine. But she wasn't going to give him the right answer. She wasn't going to tell him that she had stopped fighting him because she had realized he had won, and there was no further point in resisting. She wasn't going to tell him that she had stopped fighting him because she was afraid of what he would do to her in her weakened state. She was going to tell him something that she was gambling would intrigue him, and keep him as off balance as he had kept her this past week. So she smiled up at him and licked her lips again.
"Why, lover, what makes you think I've stopped fighting you at all?" Once again, his look of disbelief was almost comic. And then he smiled at her wolfishly, picking up the gauntlet she had just thrown down.
"Well, baby, let the battle commence," he drawled. Smirking, she dipped her head once more. The hand that had continued stroking him now guided him back into her mouth.
Angelus hissed in pleasure as she sucked him all the way in and down her throat, then slowly released him once more, her hand continuing to pump him. Buffy swirled her tongue around the velvet head of his prick, dipping into the tight slit at the top, then flicking away to lave the sensitive underside. She sucked him back down, beginning to establish a slow, steady rhythm she hoped would drive him as crazy as his doing the same thing had done to her. From his groans and the way his hips bucked, trying to drive him deeper, she guessed that it was.
If she wanted him to come this way, now would be the time for her to pick up her pace, maybe fondle his balls as well as his shaft. But that wasn't quite what she had in mind.
With a last slow stroke, she released him, then quickly knelt up, straddling his hips once more. She grasped him firmly, guiding him to the entrance of her moist channel, then slowly sank down until he was fully engulfed.
A satisfied sigh escaped her, as she felt his hard, thick length stretch her sugared walls to the limit. He was smirking at her, but the demon was still under control. Buffy, eyes glazed with passion, smirked right back. She leaned forward, setting her hands on his shoulders as she began to rise up, until only the head of his cock remained inside her. As she eased down once more, her hands traveled from his shoulders down the length of his arms, to his own hands, which she slowly drew forward and placed on her breasts, her own hands covering them, adding pressure. Angelus began to knead the plump mounds, teasing the pert nipples between his fingers. Buffy gave another satisfied sigh and began to rise up again, letting her eyes close and her head fall back as she let pleasure wash over her in a slow stream.
She experimented a bit, moving her hips in different patterns, until she found one that sent his hard shaft right where she needed it. With a groan, Buffy began to increase her pace.
Angelus watched, fascinated, at the expressions flickering over her face. She was completely abandoned, lost to everything but the pleasure she was taking from his body. She looked absolutely glorious, erotic, wanton. She was flush, perspiration beginning to bead on her upper lip. Impulsively, he leaned forward, licking away the salt moisture. Buffy tilted her head slightly, so that his tongue swept across her lips and his mouth slanted over her own. In a very short while, her tongue came out to taste his.
Eventually, though, he broke the kiss, and lay back, content to watch her. His hands remained on her breasts, as her hands remained over his, and he began to pull just a bit harder on her nipples. He wasn't pinching them, not hurting her. But he was hovering on the line that divided pleasure from discomfort, before it tumbled into pain. As he had hoped, Buffy was responsive to that line, pressing her hands over his to abet his actions, while her hips picked up the pace.
His gaze flicked over her lovely, straining torso, to where their bodies joined. He watched himself appear and disappear as he was released from the tender trap of her body, and then recaptured. It was an erotic sight, his hard, pale length being swallowed up in the nest of dark curls. He decided he knew something that would make the sight even more erotic.
With a final squeeze to her hard nipples, Angelus withdrew his hands from her breasts. Buffy opened her eyes, puzzled. He smiled at her as he crossed his arms behind his head, to make sure he had the best possible view.
"Play with yourself," he commanded, his voice husky.
"Wh…what?" Buffy gasped, coming to a halt.
"I want to watch your hands on your breasts, want you to do the things you like having done to you. Start there. I'll tell you what to do next."
She swallowed hard, giving him an uncertain look, but as he had hoped, she was too far gone in arousal to resist for long.
Tentatively at first, Buffy's hands cupped her breasts as she once more began to rise and fall on his achingly hard staff. He watched as she flicked her thumbs across her distended nipples, watched as her caresses became more deliberate, until she was pulling on the erect little buds with abandon, and moaning with delight. He gazed at her intently for several minutes, gauging her reactions, noting that she was pinching her nipples with almost as much force as he himself would have used. He was going to have to introduce her to nipple clamps when they returned to the ship.
For that matter, he was going to have to introduce her to a lot of toys. He grinned at the thought.
Angelus had learned what he wanted from observing her responses to what they were doing together. When he was satisfied that she was too far gone in pleasure to let her normal inhibitions stop her, he whispered his next heated instructions. Buffy gave him another startled look, but as he had hoped, she had next to no resistance, now.
Buffy's right hand released her breast, and began to slowly travel down her stomach. Her left hand began to caress slowly across both breasts, not letting either one lack for stimulation. When the fingers of her right hand reached the apex of her thighs, they hesitated briefly, before sliding deeper, finding her swollen clit. Buffy whimpered as her fingers rubbed the slick little bud.
"That's right, baby," Angelus crooned. "Show me how good it feels."
His lover complied, giving him the most erotic show he could desire. Her dainty little fingers were getting slick with her moisture, her lovely breasts were full, the nipples distended from her manipulation, her face was the picture of abandon, and she was giving the breathy cries she always gave when her orgasm approached. Angelus felt his balls tightening, heralding his own impending release. He sat forward suddenly, suckling one breast into his mouth, and grabbing her hips. He forced her down, hard, until he could feel the head of his cock press against her cervix. She sobbed in need. Still suckling on her breast, he lifted her hips again, setting a harder, faster rhythm than she had done, his own hips bucking up to drive himself further inside. He could feel her busy fingers moving to keep pace with him, could hear her breath coming in short sharp pants. She was almost on the edge, almost falling over. Angelus slid his hands around her hips until he was squeezing the firm globes of her ass.
And then he vamped out, allowing his fangs to lightly pierce, not her swollen nipple, but the fragile veins of her aureole. Unlike the time before, when his bite had been savage and painful, this was delicate, his intent erotic rather than punitive.
By her response, Buffy was perfectly attuned to the eroticism he had intended.
Buffy exploded into orgasm, her fingers rubbing her clit almost frantically as she spasmed with release, sobbing his name. Her tight little channel grasping him, a thin stream of her blood rich on his tongue, Angelus joined her, hips bucking as he spilled his cold seed into the depths of her womb.
She continued to ride him for several frenzied moments, both of them riding out the waves of pleasure crashing over them. Eventually though, she slowed and stopped, collapsing in his arms. Angelus reluctantly abandoned her breast, licking the tiny, shallow wounds closed. Gathering her close, he lay back on the bed, cradling her body against his own.
"Interesting fight you gave me, lover," he said, pleased with himself.
"Mmm…" she responded sleepily. Angelus chuckled indulgently. Her seeming exhaustion could only increase his self-satisfaction. It was still fairly early, but he had already tired Buffy out. Well, he would let her nap for a bit…before arousing her for the next delectable battle.
Buffy rested comfortably, Angelus arms holding her lightly, stroking soothingly over her back. He gently removed the dragonfly pins from her hair, and set them on the bedside table, so that the delicate ornaments wouldn't be crushed while she slept. She sighed in contentment.
He might not realize it, and if she were smart, it would be a long, long time before he figured it out…if ever. But she had just won her first battle in their all too intimate war. Snuggling closer to her demon lover, Buffy allowed herself to drift into sleep.
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The Silken Cage: Journey