|
|
Wine Coolers and Sex Don't Mix
by Laure Alexander
For Stella, who's gonna wanna stake him!
Six wine coolers did a number on her little body, and sent Buffy weaving drunkenly down the mansion path with some vague intention of giving someone a piece of her mind. As the city hall clock bonged midnight in the distance, she opened the front door and stomped up the stairs. Dimly she realized that she had expected there to be...something... something she could hit, but her path was unimpeded.
Swaying before a door, she wondered what she was looking for, then shrugged and flung the door open.
Angel glanced up from his book, surprised that anyone would dare enter his suite without knocking. At the sight of his lover, swaying in the doorway, his eyes narrowed and he caught a whiff of overly-sweet wine. "Buff."
Buffy stared blankly at him, then belched, then giggled. "Oops."
"Lovely."
She straightened her shoulders and took an unsteady step forward. "I don't like you. I can't remember who you are, but I know I don't like you."
"Uh huh." He rose to his feet, and she leered at him. Only a pair of tight, low slung black leather pants covered his body.
"Yummy." She giggled again and swayed forward a couple more steps. "Everything's swirly..."
Angel frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. "Aren't you a little young to be drinking?"
"Aren't I little young to be fucking?" she zinged back.
"So, is that why you're here? To spend a happy new year in my bed?"
A frowny pout formed on her face and she shook her head, then groaned as dizziness swept over her. "Don't remember. You...bad...you...bad to Willow, bad to Buffy, bad, bad, bad." She giggled again, then her eyes rolled back in her head and she fell on her face in a dead faint.
Sighing heavily, Angel scooped her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom. Dropping her on the bed, he proceeded to strip her clothes from her limp body, his mind trying to calculate how long she'd be out cold, as his cock twitched and began to grow hard.
"You are a lovely, lovely bitch, Buffy," he sighed as he bared her pale body. "Only in a drunken haze do you admit how much I get to you, how much you hate me." An evil smirk crossed his face. "You know how much that turns me on." Stripping off his pants, he lay down on his side next to the unconscious slayer, and watched her, every so often giving his cock a stroke to keep himself hard.
Not that that was a real problem, considering that just the thought of her naked made him hard as marble.
He scowled slightly at that thought, never wanting to admit that his plaything got to him, too.
*****
Buffy awoke with a groan as pain washed over her. Rolling onto her side, she groaned again, as nausea joined the pounding in her head and the aching in her joints. What had happened? Trying to open her eyes, she finally got one lid up and blinked at the sight of a very pissed off Angel glaring at her.
"You weren't supposed to be passed out for the entire fucking night," he snapped.
"Ow." One shaking hand went to her clammy forehead and her eye fell shut again. "Oh God, what happened to me?"
"You got drunk and passed out, you silly twit." After waiting for nearly two hours for her to awaken, he'd jacked off--an unsatisfactory act--then had scowled at her until he had dozed off.
"Drunk?" She tried to remember, finally focusing on one thing. "New Years?"
"Yes, 1999."
"I was...I was at a party...I...oh my head."
"Hangover."
"Could you stop screaming?" she whispered pathetically.
He glared even harder and replied calmly, "I gather you went to a party, got drunk, came to tell me that you hate me, and..."
"...Hate you?" She blinked through the fingers shading her eyes, and swallowed hard at the angry scowl on his face. "Oh."
"Then you passed out. I very kindly put you to bed, and how did you repay me? Well, not by fucking me." As he spoke, he grabbed her hand and pulled it away from her eyes. "You sashay in here in a skimpy bit of nothing, reeking of booze, telling me you hate me, making me hard as a fucking rock..." Turning her onto her back, he straddled her hips, his erection poking at her stomach.
"Oh God," she groaned, rolling her head to the side as the pain nearly blinded her.
Angel growled and shoved her thighs apart. "Now, I could have just fucked you as you lay like a corpse, but I prefer a lively playmate, so I waited...and waited."
"I'm sorry," she whispered, sweat breaking out on her forehead, as the pain was joined again by nausea.
"I think you need to learn a lesson, lover. When you come to me, you better damn well be ready to do anything and everything I say. Open your eyes," he barked.
Buffy cringed at the anger in his voice, but obeyed him, looking up at him. "My head really hurts, Angel."
"Yeah, too much wine will do that, but...I don't think you've had enough to learn that lesson."
She looked blankly at him, then swallowed at the sudden dryness in her mouth. "What do you mean?" she finally asked.
"You're too little to drink much. From now on, your limit is one drink, and only when you're with me."
She managed to scowl through her pain. "You aren't the boss of me," she mumbled petulantly, again rolling her head to the side, as the pain lessened in that position.
Angel gave her an incredulous look, then grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. "I see alcohol gives you false courage, lover." He looked at her speculatively for a moment, then sat back on his heels. "I'll give you a choice. Either you drink enough whiskey to learn the lesson that booze and Buffy don't mix...or you give me a blow job."
Buffy stared uncomprehending at him, then paled even more. "I really don't feel well."
"No shit." Rising to his feet, Angel strolled over to an easy chair next to a table upon which sat a decanter of Scotch. He sat down, spreading his legs slightly, his cock bouncing against his stomach.
Squirming on the bed, her eyes on fire, and her stomach churning, Buffy hoped that he really didn't mean it, but that frail hope was shattered by his next statement.
"If you don't choose in the next sixty seconds, I'll force feed you the whiskey, then bend you over the toilet and fuck you in the ass."
"You're so gross," she muttered.
"Puke, shit, blood, you know I don't care about any of that, as long as I get my pleasure. Thirty seconds."
The thought of more alcohol--and straight whiskey, not juice mixed with wine--turned her stomach even more, so she finally whimpered, "Blowjob."
"Get your ass over here and make it good."
Not raising her head until the last possible moment, Buffy slid from the bed onto shaky legs. Holding her throbbing head, she stumbled over to him and dropped to her knees. Her head, which seemed to weigh a ton, fell against his thigh and a tear of pain trickled onto his cool skin.
"You want to be an adult, Buffy? Stop whimpering and crying like a baby," he said cooly.
Angrily, she lashed out at him, catching him in the stomach with one fist, as she clawed at his leg with her other hand. Angel let her fight, finally catching her hands before they could do him any real damage. Pinning them to his chest, he dragged her between his legs. Buffy panted for breath, her whole body trembling with pain and anger, and she glared up at him.
"It's nice to see that even with a hangover, you can be a bitch." He flashed her a wicked grin, then grabbed the back of her neck and pushed her head down to his insistent cock.
"I hate you," she growled before slipping her mouth over the weeping tip. She sucked hard and fast, wanting it over with so that she could find a rusty saw and cut off her head before it exploded from pain.
Leaning back comfortably, stretching his legs out on either side of her, Angel concentrated on the sensation of her hot lips and tongue on his cock. He'd taught her well. He didn't even need to guide her movements.
But, he kept his hand on her nape all the same.
As the pain swelled again, tears formed in Buffy's eyes, but she kept bobbing her head, taking him to the edge of her throat. Silently she begged him to come, and, as her stomach churned again, her sucking and licking became more frantic.
Seeing her shoulders tremble violently, knowing she was at her physical limit, Angel thrust his hips up and spilled himself into her mouth, his hands setting her free.
Buffy automatically swallowed, then her eyes widened and she jerked her head back. Gasping for air, she stumbled to her feet and dashed for the bathroom.
Smiling grimly, Angel listened to her retch, and wondered if she had learned a lesson here or not.
He certainly enjoyed teaching her.
Her stomach finally empty and the convulsions over, Buffy dragged her limp body up and over to the sink. For once she was grateful that Angel didn't have a mirror. She felt so totally gross that surely she looked equally horrid. Soaking a cloth in cold water, she wrung it out, then placed it over her eyes and forehead. As the pain lessened a tiny amount, she set the cloth down and rinsed her mouth with mouthwash.
Spitting out the minty liquid was almost too much for her, and she slumped against the counter, whimpering.
Angel lifted her easily into his arms and carried her back to the bed, unaware that he was making soothing noises to quiet her whimpers of pain. After tucking her limp and sweat-soaked body under the blankets, he climbed in beside her and drew her gently against him.
His cool dry skin felt so good against her flushed, sticky body, and Buffy curled against him, eyes closed. Her stomach had settled down and the pain was becoming manageable. The thought of liquor made her want to throw up all over again.
So, he'd taught her a lesson, and was undoubtedly all smug.
"Prick," she mumbled, though she was already accepting and moving past the humiliation, very accustomed to it after nearly a year.
Angel chuckled and gently stroked her back. "Yep. Now go back to sleep, and, if your hangover is all gone when you wake up, we'll see if I can make you scream in pleasure."
Buffy sighed softly as his words sent a flutter of desire through her limp body. "Promise?"
"To satisfy my oral fixation?" He grinned as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "You bet, babe."
Knowing deep inside herself that, although his words were selfish, the reasons behind them really weren't--though he'd never admit that--Buffy quickly fell asleep.
End