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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: 21218 -:- 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
- 13
- 14
- 15
The look Angelus gave her in response to her purred acceptance of his invitation was so heated, Buffy moaned in anticipation. She expected to find herself on her back on the roomy leather seat of the limo, her demon lover looming over her and pounding into her, but Angelus never did what she expected. Instead, he slid to his knees, graceful as a jungle cat stalking its prey, and pushed her legs apart, burying his face between her thighs. She gasped at the feel of his cold tongue against her heated core, and shuddered in delight. The cool wetness was both soothing and arousing, the perfect antidote to the soreness caused by his earlier vigor in their lovemaking. Buffy closed her eyes, relaxing into his delicate ministrations. He coaxed her into her first orgasm before they were out of the parking lot.
It didn’t matter that they were in public, with Robert on the other side of the cushioned seats, and the possibility that, despite the tinted windows and the darkness of the night, people walking through the lot to their own cars might catch a shadowy glimpse of the illicit activities taking place in the limo. Buffy was lost to everything but the feel of her lover against her, his large, strong hands parting her thighs, his tongue swirling over her swollen flesh with loving deliberation, his rumbling purr of arousal vibrating against her tingling clit. A flick of intimate coolness against her plump folds, a savoring caress against too sensitive tissue, long and drawn out, tantalizing each and every nerve, and finally, stabbing inside her, licking up the honey of her desire . . .Buffy peaked, gasping, her knees clamped to his head, holding him in place, as if he had any desire to be elsewhere.
Angelus growled, enjoying how quickly he had gotten the response he wanted. He kept up his assault while her orgasm shattered through her, but when she finally lay limp against the seat, he switched tactics, swirling his tongue not inside her, but over her engorged clit, sucking the delectable morsel into his mouth and biting gently down. She cried out for him again, hips bucking against his mouth as he drank her down. As they drove through the city streets and onto the highway, he lingered over her, easing her down from one peak, then making her scale another. This time, he went into game face, allowing the tip of one fang to scrape just a few drops of blood to the surface. She nearly came apart in his arms.
The icy coldness of his tongue and the fire as he drew just a few drops from her rocketed through her, and she keened his name as another wave of white-hot pleasure crashed over her. She was shaking in reaction, the successive orgasms so close together, she lost track of what was happening. He finally slid one finger inside her, and she clamped down around it as another series of climaxes gripped her. But, later, as he withdrew his fangs and fingers, and returned to nuzzling her flesh, her wails of completion changed to sobs of frustration.
It hadn’t been enough.
She was still aching and needy, and she understood that his tongue and teeth weren’t going to be enough this time, his skilled fingers probing her, and even his fangs scraping at her wouldn’t be enough. Until she had his cold, hard length buried inside her, until he filled her and stretched her and poured his icy seed into her heated depths, she was going to be left just short of satisfaction. Add his fangs in her throat, or better yet, in her breast, and she might just fuck both of them to death.
She tugged on his hair, trying to get him to stop what he was doing. He obligingly lifted his head to gaze at her questioningly, licking her dewy essence from his lips. Buffy gasped at the sensuality of the gesture, forgetting the demand she had been about to make. She leaned forward and kissed him, her tongue slipping into his mouth, to twine hungrily around his own.
She tasted of champagne and, faintly, of ginger cream and of raw, unbridled lust. She was licking her own taste from him, and he found himself incredibly aroused. He wondered, briefly, if even the Lamia venom could account for his hunger. He wanted to stretch her down on the leather seat, lift her skirt, and pound into her. Robert, carefully attentive to his driving and studiously ignoring anything that did not involve him would be unconcerned if Angelus took his pleasure with Buffy while he drove them back to the secluded cottage.
And yet, that would be over too quickly.
Buffy had her own ideas on the matter.
"Now, Angelus," she whispered between heated kisses, "I need you inside me."
"Shhh," he soothed, pulling her into his lap. She wriggled, trying to move so she could straddle him, but he frustrated her attempts, and held her pinned against him, deepening the kiss, instead. She mewled despairingly, but returned his kiss with enthusiasm.
"Bastard," she groused between kisses. But she didn’t pull away. Instead, she pulled one of his hands to cover her breast.
"Patience, lover," he returned, caressing the soft mound and lightly pinching the achingly hard little nipple. "Just a few minutes more."
"Too long," she complained, before her tongue attacked his. He pinched harder, and she whimpered, but thrust her breast more fully into his hand, and wriggled her bottom against the rock-hard length of his manhood. Snarling, he shifted her away again, but slid his hand from her breast to the juncture of her thighs. One strong finger stabbed inside her, and she convulsed against him in another paroxysm of bliss. His reprieve was only momentary, however.
"Not enough," she moaned, her voice a mere breath. Her head fell back against his shoulder, and when she lifted her gaze to his, he saw her eyes were dark gray with desire. "Come inside me, lover," she whispered.
He was the Scourge of Europe, and for one hundred and fifty years, he had denied himself nothing. His consort had been the most beautiful, clever and vicious vampire the Master had ever made, and even she had not been enough to slake his lusts. He had strayed from Darla’s bed to Mai’s, to Dru’s and those of a dozen humans, male as well as female, or brought his companions into the bed he and Darla shared. His appetite for flesh matched his appetite for blood, and he was no stranger to the many faces of desire, having had ample leisure to explore them all.
But the girl before him, her eyes heavy lidded with passion, her lips swollen from his kisses, her body flushed and hungry for his, aroused him the way nothing in even his vast and varied experienced had ever done. He was lifting her in his arms, about to settle her back on the seat, when he caught, from the corner of his eye, the turnoff toward their cottage.
"Almost home, darling," he said, pulling her close again, swallowing her whimper of frustration against his mouth.
The few minutes until Robert pulled up to the steps were torturously long for Buffy. The fire in her blood had not been cooled by Angelus’ attentions. Instead, she was afraid she was in very real danger of expiring from the heat. No sooner had the limo come to a stop than Angelus, with preternatural speed, had them out the door, and was taking the steps to their apartment two at a time, Buffy held tight in his arms.
He was kissing her as he carried her over the threshold into the apartment, kissing her as he strode the few yards to the bedroom, kissing her as he lowered her to stand before the bed which had been made up in their absence by Mai’s ever attentive, thankfully unobtrusive servitors.
Buffy clung to him, too far gone in passion to question why he hadn’t put her down on the bed itself. He wanted to do it standing up? Fine. She just wanted to do it, wanted him inside her, wanted him so badly she could barely stand, would have fallen if she hadn’t had his broad shoulders to cling to, his firm arms to hold her up. Not breaking their kiss, she frenziedly tore at his shirt and jacket, trying to undress him. He helped, unconcerned about the niceties, counting a few torn buttons and a ruined shirt as small price to pay for the delights awaiting him. He toed off his shoes while she pulled off his jacket and shirt, got out of his socks while she fumbled with his belt. He moved his hands over hers, directing matters, and was freed of all his clothing in seconds.
Moaning, Buffy pressed herself against him. Her dress was no barrier. All she need do was lift her skirt, which she tried to do while kissing him.
Angelus pushed her hands away, letting the hemline fall back into place. He swallowed down her mewl of protest, his hands moving quickly to the zipper at her back. This seemed to appease her, for the dress and slip soon pooled at her feet, one less barrier between them.
Buffy pressed closer, only the lace of her bra, the scrap of garter, the silk of her stockings between herself and her demon lover. She was glad, now of the thin, high heels. They lifted her to just the right height to rub her bare, drenching femininity against his rampant manhood.
Angelus growled deep in his throat, and returned the favor.
"Now," she begged, "Please!"
Lamia venom still flowed in his own veins, and it took an enormous effort of will not to do as she asked. But Angelus had an eye to the long view. Buffy would be his consort throughout eternity. There was so much he wanted to teach her, to prepare her for that role. And he could hardly ask for a better time to begin some of those lessons than now.
He didn’t waste words on an explanation. He simply pulled her close, still kissing her, still letting her rub against him, and pulled her bra from her body. She shivered, rubbing her newly bared breasts against his chest, distracted for the few moments it took for him to walk them closer to the bureau, where the items he had instructed Mai to provide awaited in the top drawer.
Dizzy with lust, Buffy almost didn’t notice Angelus’ preoccupation. Not until he pushed her away, forcing her to stand on trembling, unsteady legs, did she realize he was holding something in his hands. She was beyond articulating her confusion, could only beg, once more, "Please," could only moan as he grinned, and dipped his head to capture one pert breast in his mouth, and tease the aching nipple to an even more adamantine peak. Fire leapt in her veins, pleasure jolting from her breast to her core, and she found herself balanced on a knife’s edge of excruciating pleasure. And if he delayed one second more before entering her, she was convinced it would become exquisite pain.
But the pain, when it came, wasn’t what she had expected at all.
Buffy gasped as he pulled his mouth from her breast, but before she could object to the loss of the delicious pressure, another, firmer pressure replaced it. Dazed, Buffy looked down at her breast, to find a bit of black plastic clamped tight around her nipple, which was distended and trapped in an almost painful clasp.
"Angelus?" she whispered uncertainly, but within seconds her other breast had been treated similarly, first delectably aroused, and then forcefully imprisoned. She was in no condition to question, to object. She stood before him, trembling in need, as he stood back and admired his handiwork.
The girl before him was exquisite, her hair beginning to come lose from the dragonfly clips, naked save for the garter belt, stockings, and heels, and the bits of plastic adorning her gorgeous, full breasts. The perfume of her arousal lay heavy on the air, not untainted by the musk of his own seed, spilled inside her a few hours before. Her eyes were clouded with desire, her skin flushed with arousal, her breath coming in heaving gasps that made her breasts, and their cruel adornments, quiver beneath his gaze.
And once more, she begged.
"Please," she whispered, and held out her arms. Buffy was in such a desperate state of pained arousal that tears began to spill from her luminous eyes.
Angelus realized he might have to change his plans, and turn her this very night. He wasn’t sure even Slayer stamina would be able to handle the lust surging through him at the wanton, utterly submissive, utterly erotic, picture she presented.
But they would both have a marvelous time finding out.
Grinning wolfishly, he approached her at last. In a moment she was in his arms, returning his demanding kisses. A moment later he had spun her about, forcing her to bend over the foot of the bed, pillowing her head on her arms, as he dropped a few more items to the bed, within easy reach when he wanted them. For the moment, they weren’t important. Buffy’s delectable ass was raised to the perfect height for him, and her legs, balanced on the high heels, were spread invitingly. Angelus moved between them, draping himself over her back, sliding his hardness against her sopping folds as she keened in delight, coating his shaft in her lush moisture before he pulled back, and, grasping her hips in his hands, drove himself deep into her molten core.
Buffy screamed as climax gripped her once more. The cold force of him invading her, sliding in so far and so deep, hitting the top of her womb so that she felt more open, more vulnerable, than she had yet been to him, simply overloaded her frenzied nerves, bringing her to release with his first thrust.
But not to relief.
Even in the midst of her pleasure, the need was growing again. Buffy forced her hips back, attempting to take him even deeper than he had already gone. Angelus groaned at the gorgeous pressure of her clamping tight around his shaft, as her release shook through her, and at the feel of her opening for him, engulfing him ever more fully. Growling, he pulled out, and began to thrust inside her, with slow, steady strokes.
Buffy wasn’t interested in slow.
"Harder," she gasped, amazing him. She emphasized her demand with another roll of her hips. Snarling, Angelus obliged her, shifting his weight slightly, sinking deeper into her enticing femininity. He reached forward, cupping her breasts, and adding the barest hint of pressure to the cruel clamps. Buffy whimpered, pressing her breasts into his palms welcoming the torment of the clamps as one more bit of stimulation to her overwrought nerves.
Her flesh was a siren song, ultimate temptation, ultimate carnality. She had no idea how deep her passions ran, the delights she could bring him, the delights he could show her in return.
But it was time he began to show her.
Still thrusting inside her, Angelus leaned up, and reached for one of the items he had dumped onto the bed. As Buffy writhed beneath him, approaching another orgasm, he parted the firm globes of her ass, and squeezed a bit of the lube directly onto the tight puckered rose of her back passage. She moaned at the coldness of the gel, then hissed in satisfaction as his fingers rubbed it into the tight ring of muscle. Primed, she relaxed, allowing his finger to probe inside her, thrusting in counterpart to his cock.
Angelus grinned. His little darling was a quick learner. All the better. Angelus grabbed up the toy he wanted, withdrawing his finger, and rubbing the head of a thick butt plug against her tight, but lubed, back door.
Dimly, she registered that something other than Angelus’ finger was being pressed against her, but Buffy was too close to orgasm to care. All that mattered was the delicious fullness pumping inside her; all that mattered was how deep she could take him, how hard and how fast. As she sank under the next wave, she felt the new invasion, and welcomed it.
As he felt her body clamp down on his once more, Angelus pushed the head of the plug past the resistant ring of muscle, sliding it inside. He felt the added pressure against his own cock, the long, thick plug rigid and unyielding in her ass. He waited until her most recent orgasm concluded, then threw the switch. Buffy wailed as the butt plug began to hum, massaging the untried muscles in her bottom, and spreading its vibrations to Angelus hard cock and her own aching sheath. Another orgasm hit, even before the last had quite concluded.
Her reactions were perfect. She hadn’t fought his use of the nipple clamps, nor objected to the intrusive butt plug. A little discomfort didn’t throw her. Maybe he wouldn’t have to wait until she was a vampire to teach her an appreciation for the way pleasure could be enhanced by a touch of pain . . .
For tonight, it was enough that she accepted the toys he used on her. She was sobbing in release beneath him, but he could feel the tension inside her, and knew she wasn’t really satisfied, that it wasn’t enough yet.
But then, it wasn’t enough for him yet, either. They both needed one thing more.
Angelus reached for another toy. He wanted stimulation on her clit, and he wanted his hands free, and this toy would help. Still thrusting inside her, he fit the smooth plastic up against her clit, pushing himself just far enough away to allow him to fasten the strap around her waist.
Angelus pulled all the way out of her, ignoring her keening wail of loss, and quickly fastened the other straps around her thighs. The butterfly was now firmly in place, snug against her clit.
"What are you doing?" Buffy wailed, aching for him. In answer he flipped her onto her back, pushing her up onto the bed just far enough to accommodate him. Grasping her slender ankles, Angelus pushed her legs backward, over her head, opening her wide and vulnerable. She stared up at him in a haze of passion, accepting whatever he did, so long as he returned to her.
Growling, Angelus thrust deep inside, grinding down on the humming butt plug, and flicking the switch on the butterfly, so that her clit was treated to another forceful set of vibrations. He leaned forward to kiss her, his chest pressing against plastic nipple clamps, and adding one more bit of torturous stimulation.
She had wanted it hard, and he obliged her, holding nothing back as he unleashed the full fury of his vampiric lusts on her. She met him, tearing at his back to hold him closer, her own hips churning to meet the demand set by his. Their tongues battled for dominance, until he slid into gameface and she moaned against his fangs, then broke the kiss . . .
. . . and bared her neck to him, pressing the smooth column of her throat against his lips.
He slid his fangs into her, and her final climax hit hard. The tension in her body snapped like an over-tightened cord, her spasms so deep he was in danger of being crushed. Lovely danger. He spilled inside her, filling her with his cold seed as he drained her of her hot blood. Not that he would drain too much, even now.
Every pleasure point in her body unrelentingly stimulated, Buffy plunged into a seemingly endless series of climaxes, that went on and on as Angelus poured his cold seed deep inside her. It was what she had wanted, coming on his fangs and on his cock and the other things he had done to her, the painful clamps and the thick plug and the vibrating butterfly were only making it better.
But it was his cold seed pouring into her that was the best, his essence spilling inside her, assuaging some deeply instinctive need that denied the lack of vitality, the impossibility of fertility, and reveled in this ultimate token of possession. She was his, undoubtedly and undeniably.
But so too was he hers.
On a final wail of release, Buffy collapsed, sated at last. Retracting his fangs, Angelus collapsed over her, hitting the switches on the toys, stilling the vibrations. As her breathing gradually calmed, he pulled out of her, then gently removed the toys, withdrawing the butt plug, then undoing the clamps, and tossing them to the side of the bed. After a moment, he decided to leave the butterfly in place for just a little longer. Buffy gazed at him drowsily, wondering what he could possibly be up to, now. She didn’t have long to wonder. He smirked down at her, then moved over her abused breasts, gently sucking a swollen nipple into his mouth. Buffy whimpered in protest, but he ignored her, and soon turned her protests to moans of appreciation. His cold tongue felt so good, so soothing. A moment later, the butterfly began a softer humming. Buffy tipped over into a gentle orgasm almost before she realized what was happening. After the overpowering climax she had enjoyed, this was like a gentle aftershock, or, rather like the dessert that concludes a banquet. Exhausted, she didn’t protest as he moved to her other breast, and when she felt him, hard once more, about to enter her again, she simply parted her thighs to accommodate him, and welcomed the weight of him crushing her down.
Angelus rotated his hips, driving the butterfly against her abused little clit, and driving himself deeper into her body. She had to be sore. No human woman could possibly go through what he had put her through all day, have endured what he had just made her endure, and not be sore. Not even the Slayer. But his Buffy seemed beyond caring. She opened for him, lifted to him, and returned his embrace, giving him long, slow languorous kisses in return for his long, slow, languorous thrusts inside her body. The humming butterfly at first amused, and then annoyed him, but she made no objection when he pulled away for a moment to strip it from her. She simply held out her arms for his return.
Angelus gathered her close in his arms and slid back inside her.
Molten heat and yielding, silken flesh. Toys were amusing, but there was no substitute for the delights of pure, unadulterated Buffy. He kept his pace slow, his own stamina pushed to the limits by her uninhibited response. This time the peak approached only gradually, and when they reached it, together, he kept them at the height for excruciating moment after excruciating moment, he drank down her cries of completion as she swallowed his roars of release, until, the final battle completed, he came to rest in her arms.
Angelus gathered her close once more, pressing tender kisses to her cheeks and brow. He pulled the comforter over them. But he settled down to sleep with her yielding body beneath his own, still buried deep in her welcoming flesh.
- 13
- 14
- 15
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The Silken Cage: Journey