Desperately Seeking Cookies by PigPimping
Rating: NC-17 (eventually, Pg-ish for now)--mwa hahahaha; hide your eyes, kiddies - the beast with two backs is contained herein, don't let me corrupt you. Leave that to pornographic websites.
Classification: Buffy POV. B/A, all the way, baby! (the only way....did I say that?)
Spoilers: Up through both the Angel season and Buffy series finale. Mama loves her some B/A cookie goodness, so dammit, I'm treating myself. Do the snoopy dance with me. Hey, that just cured Angel's curse! Thanks, now I don't have to come up with a drawn out soulbinder. Whew. Saint Cordy don't live round these parts anymore, little dogies. Spike, you ask? I don't know any Spike. Brad, yes. Spike, not for a long time. Consider him dust. Permanently.
Disclaimer: They aren't mine. Can you believe it? Damn kids filed for emancipation. All bills/credit card applications can be forwarded to Joss "Short Shorts" Whedon, ME, WB, etc. Feedback: Slop the hogs, babies! email@example.com
I am a bad, bad woman.
No really, I am. I'm sitting in the lobby of Angel's office, staring Harmony down and willing her to try something funny. Anything. I feel the reassuring press of a stake tucked into my wasteband, and shift in my chair. I've been itching for a good staking for days now. Christ. Look at her desk! What's the deal with the unicorns? Is every vampire in the world slowly being brainwashed with old My Little Pony episodes? I long for the good old "Prepare to die, Slayer! I'm going to rip your heart out and feed it to my minions, Slayer!" days. Now it's "Did you see my newest Dreamsicles figurine? Yeah, I stopped by the 24 hour Hallmark on my way home. Had to kill the storeowner, but hey, my set is complete!" Let's grow some balls, evildoers. You're not even trying anymore.
Sigh. I'm starting to feel a little guilty for tricking Angel this way. Well, not tricking him really, maybe more *surprising* him. Yeah, there we go. I glance around at the other people in the waiting area. Four women, two men, all dressed professionally and glancing around nervously at each other. Job interviews suck. And now that I think (well, feel) about it, I may have used the term 'people' very loosely. At least two demons...hmmmm....lucky for them I just bought this suit, and I am not about to ruin it. A $799 DKNY (off the rack, shhh...don't tell) and slaying do not mix. I think it says so on the label. It should.
When I tried calling Angel Investigations (clever name <snort>. What? I'm just saying...) two weeks ago, intent on delivering my 'We're alive, time to party' message, I got the standard "We're sorry, this number is no longer in service" message and proceeded to freak. Seriously, Willow was considering keeping my magically locked in my room at the lovely Seamist Inn until I could behave. Although I consider myself quite the kick-ass broad (Faith's term, wonder what SHE was up to in jail), I didn't feel the need to really push the issue at the time. It really scared the crap out of me, though. After hearing through the grapevine that Angel's first office had been blown up years ago, I was convinced he was dead. I mean, isn't that my luck? I save the world (again), Sunnydale turns into a big crater, AND get the chance at retirement? It stands to reason that once I get a real chance to build a new life, the good old PTB would try something like that. 'Thanks for saving the world, Buffy. To reward you, we're going to create a big portal of doom beneath Angel's hotel and suck him and his crew into a charming hell dimension.' It fits the pattern.
Anyway, after some digging (okay, hacking, but Willow loves that stuff), I discovered that Angel was, in fact, alive. Well, you know what I mean. The hotel had been abandoned, and it seemed Angel & Co. were moving on up. Seriously. This place is amazing. So I call and ask for Wesley, who gives me the low down on the whole situation. New jobs, evil law firm, blah blah blah. I made him swear up and down not to tell Angel I had called, just to let him know that the Sunnydale crew was okay. Then, I began plotting my little surprise.
Wes mentioned that this law firm employed many...well....interesting species of workers, and that if one were a little on the superhuman side, one might be able to find employment in such a place. Interesting. Who doesn't need a slayer on their payroll?
And so, my ingenius plan to begin the great Buffy Bake-off began. I told Giles I planned to take some time to relax, find myself, really whatever the hell I wanted to do. I earned it. So he, Faith and Xander headed off to Cleveland with a few of the remaining potentials cum Slayers. Last time I talked to Faith, she said they were putting out feelers to several contacts on the East Coast in an effort to round up the girls old enough to begin serious training. Cool beans for me, as Willow and most of the girls left from the Sunnydale Armageddon had taken up residence in Angel's hotel (thank god Wes got the utilities back on in time....13 hormonal girls, one witch and no running water is not a happy home) and were slaying their way across L.A. Tee hee. Dawn had been staying at Dad's condo since we arrived in L.A., so I rented myself a nice little flat in a not-to-ghetto part of town. Could have gone for something nicer, but hey, I'm not picky.
I had decided as soon as I talked to Wesley that Angel had already escaped from me far too many times to be allowable. Time to beat him at his own game. There was absolutely no reason we could not be together now. And that's a 'whether he likes it or not', folks. I called Wes and told him to dummy up an application for me as Angel's 'personal assistant'. Harmony can type his memos until it rains fruit roll-ups, but I'll be damned if anyone but me assists Angel in ANYTHING personal. Ever, ever again.
So here I am, waiting for my name to be called. I used Cookie Doe. I'm super creative too, huh? Oh well. I slipped Harmony a hundred dollar bill (the Watcher's Council had *loads* of money sitting in offshore accounts just waiting to be used to care for the Slayers. Including me. Hey--it was Willow's idea) to keep her mouth shut. Not really something she's famous for, but here's hoping. I size up my competition. Pointy nose, too loud, and geez! The woman next to me had WAY too much garlic for lunch. That's gonna be a turn-off.
Harmony calls the tall, skinny guy across from me, and buzzes him into Angel's office. Could this take any longer? What's Angel doing, asking for the A&E Biography on these people?
Ahhhh, Angel. My sweet, unsuspecting, silly silly man. You are in big trouble when I get in there, mister. I need to stop thinking about his ass before I drool all over this obviously expensive imported rug. I bet I could bounce a quarter off of it, though. His butt, not the rug. And naked Angel butt and I will be in close proximity very soon if he ever gets through with these people. Oh, the possibilities. Naked parts, naked parts, I'm gonna see some naked parts. I shoulda been a songwriter, I tell ya. I'm wasting my talents on this whole slaying gig.
Skinny Tall exits Angel's office looking either extremely pissed or constipated. Hard to tellwhich one, and frankly, I'm not THAT interested.
Here goes nothing.
Breathe, Buffy. Nothing to be nervous about. He loves you. He wants Buffy Cookies. He can't lose his soul. He's bound to appreciate the very sexy lingerie you bought for him to rip off of you. Be cool. You're the Slayer. Beat him into submission!
I can do this. I reach for the knob, exhaling sharply and glancing back at Harmony, who winks at me. I give her a smile (a very small one, she was totally evil in high school, and not even a vamp then) and walk forward.
I close the door behind me, then turn towards the desk where my future (and I mean in two minutes or less) love slave sits, his chair turned to face the window. Wait, window? What's that about? Did Coppertone unveil their new Vampire Line and I missed the ad in Cosmo?
I am so turned on, which is crazy. I haven't seen him since the Caleb slayage in Sunnydale, and here I am, ready to pounce. He has to know it's me by now, if the name didn't give it away. God, he probably smelled me from the lobby.
"So, Ms." There's a pause. "Doe, is it?" Yep, busted. I can hear him smiling. Why isn't he turning around? I don't respond.
"Please, have a seat." Still, he looks out that damn window. I can hear papers rustling around, he's trying to pretend to be busy. I'll play along. For now.
I sit, and stare at the back of his chair. Dammit, turn around! I've got plenty to show you. And it's a lot more interesting than anything out that window, I guarantee!
He turns slowly, and as his face comes into view, I see him switch from smiling to a very serious expression. This man should be in Vegas, with that poker face. Suddenly it dawns on me. He wants to play...hmmm.
"Nice to meet you. I'd offer to shake your hand, but they say most contagious diseases are spread that way, and I don't know you that well yet." Oh, Buffy. Ever the witty one.
One corner of his mouth tics up, but he doesn't show any other reaction. "Of course. I've reviewed your resume, and I have a few questions about your qualifications."
Let me answer them, my sexy man-sized cupcake. Yes, you may see me naked. Yes, I would love to crawl under that desk and work my way to the top. Yes, I loveyouloveyouloveyouloveyou. Always.
I smile. "Fire away."
"Well, under special skills, you highlighted 'baking'. Could you be more specific?" I thought he'd enjoy that. Obviously he understood the other skills I listed, like oral gratification and skilled hand laborer.
"Oh, that. Well, actually, I decided to retire my apron recently. Baking is very overrated. You could burn things if you leave them in the oven too long, you know." That's my sweetie, making with the twinkly eyes. You wanna smile.
And we have LIFTOFF! Big, eye-crinkling Angel smile!
"Are you sure? You don't want to take things out of the oven too early. Unless you're sure they're done. Salmonella is no one's friend." He's looking kinda nervous now. Oh, Angel. I sigh and stand, walking around the desk until I'm right next to him.
"I'm sure. And you know, even if cookies aren't cooked thoroughly, there's a vast number of American consumers who love cookie dough, just the way it is. What do you think?" Now I'm making with the nervous face. What if he says no? What if the Spike thing repulsed him so much he never wants to touch me again. What if--
Mmmmmm. Angel kisses. I open my mouth to his, allowing his tongue to enter and play with my own. This man can kiss like nobody's business. And from now on it IS nobody's business, but mine. I pull back after a moment...or fifty, hard to keep track of time when Angel is doing that little biting my lip thing I love so much.
"Angel, I have to tell you something." He makes a 'hmmmmm' noise and starts kissing down the column of my throat, taking a mouthful of skin and sucking here and there. What was I saying? Oh yeah.
"If you ever decide to pull that 'I'm leaving you for you own good' thing again, consider yourself castrated." He chuckles against my neck, then laves his faded mark with his tongue.
"The next time you decide to sleep with a vampire, it better be me. Forever." I wrap my arms around his next and squeeze, and he looks at me.
"Deal. Always you, my love." He kisses me hard, then, claiming me with lips and tongue and teeth and oh god it is way too hot to be wearing all these clothes. I need to feel his skin. I need him to feel my skin.
He must be reading my mind, because he sits me on his desk, standing between my legs, and begins to unbutton my suit jacket. That's more like it! I reach out and push at the lapels of his blazer, and he shrugs it off then goes back to my buttons.
"So do I get the job?" I'm breathing heavily, and wrestling with his belt buckle. Come on, fingers, do your stuff! He pushes my hands away for a moment, and helps me off with my jacket. I celebrate wildly when I hear the intake of breath at the sexy black teddy revealed.
"Jesus, Buffy." I smile and pull him down for another kiss, dominating his mouth with the invasion of my tongue. He reaches down and begins to slide his hand up my thigh, coming closer and closer to the spot that's been aching for years. Seems the lady downstairs missed Angel as much as I did. He finally makes contact, and his eyes widen as he realizes that this particular teddy is, in fact, crotchless. I want to pat myself on the back. Be prepared, and all that.
"Be glad I'm not human, or I would definitely have had a stroke by now." I stick my tongue out at him, and his nips at it before sucking it into his mouth. Ahhhh, talented hands, my love. He finds my clit and strokes lightly, teasingly. I'm sensing some payback coming. He's gonna make me beg him for it, probably. Fine by me. He moves his mouth down along my neck again, along my cleavage, before latching onto my nipple through the lace of the teddy. Talented hands, and a talented tongue. A double threat.
"God, Angel....I need...." I can barely speak. This man has the amazing power to reduce my verbal capacity to that of a two year old. He presses down a little harder, swirling his finger around my clit once more before inserting two fingers into me.
"Holy christ!" I arch into him, throwing my head back and squeezing the digits, trying to draw him farther into my body. He strokes in and out of me slowly, trying to draw out my pleasure and tease me simultaneously.
"Does that feel good, love?" Wicked, wicked Angel. Oh, how you will pay.
"Yesssssss....Angel, please!" He smiles evilly then brings his thumb into play, circling my clit with just the right pressure. I hiss with the mind-numbing pleasure of it, my excitement increasing not just with the physical act, but the fact that this is Angel, *my Angel*, and ....
"Oh god, yes! Harder, Angel, please!" He speeds up the fingers pistoning in and out of me and I'm so close. So, so close. My ears are ringing, oh god he is so good.
And he stops.
WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH HIM?!
Oh. That wasn't my ears ringing, that was his intercom buzzing. We both groan and he kisses me soundly and presses the 'talk' button.
"What is it, Harmony?" My my, someone besides me sounds a little pissed. I shoulda staked her before I came in.
"Sorry, sir, but Gunn, Fred, and Wesley needed to see you, they said it's urgent." I sigh and reach for my jacket, shrugging it on and making a face at Angel.
"Can I kill her? Please?"
He adjusts his clothing and smiles at me before pulling me to stand before him.
"I'm sorry, Buffy. This shouldn't take too long." I give him a quick peck, and cop a quick feel of his obvious arousal. He's a big boy, my Angel.
"For your sake, I hope not." I try to glare at him convincingly, but all it does is make him smile sweetly at me and press the door release.
Wes, a tall black man, and some skinny girl I don't know walk in, looking worked up about something. Wes takes in my flustered, flushed appearance and gives me an apologetic frown.
"So sorry to interrupt, Angel, but one of our seers had a vision a few moments ago. A vampire nest in Long Beach is luring in innocents for some sort of summoning ritual." Wes goes on, but I listen with half an ear as I eye Angel hungrily. Yum yum yum. I just want to lick him all over and then..well...letting him lick me all over sounds pretty good.
The black man notices me for the first time and gets that look. You know the one. The kind where you know the first words out of his mouth will be something like 'So, how much does a polar bear weigh? Enough to break the ice, call me!" Time to nip this in the bud. I rise and walk over in Angel's direction. He sees me coming and stops Wesley midstream.
"Oh, before we go any farther; Gunn, Fred, this is Buffy." This time I undergo their mutual scrutiny. Gunn opens his mouth to say something. Probably something inane. Me first!
"No way, Cowboy. You must be," I jerk my head towards Angel, "that tall to ride." Gunn laughs and nods, and shakes my hand.
"Feisty. I like that. You must be the other slayer. Angel's slayer." Angel puts his hands on my hips and pulls me to stand in front of him, a slight growl having been audible since my amusement park joke. Feeling a bit protective lover? Or just trying to hide that hard-on from prying eyes?
It's gonna be a long day. And still, no nakedness. Where's the justice?
I need a cold shower. Now.
For the past thirty minutes, I have been *praying* that they would leave us alone. I've tried hand gestures. I've cleared my throat about a zillion times. I even mouthed 'get the fuck out' to Wesley once, but when he told me that 'yes, he was having fun now', I accepted my fate.
I, Buffy Summers, am doomed to a sexless spinsterhood.
Angel isn't exactly helping matters. Sure, I get that it's his job to take care of demon infestations. Hello, seven years on the Hellmouth over here. He fails to realize that there are some other pressing issues developing. Like me pressing him into his desk while riding him so hard I give him a nosebleed. Do they make Angel-sized saddles? Definitely worth checking into.
I'm trying to catch Fred's attention. Stick Girl is staring at Angel with a rapt fascination that makes me want to do one of two things. Jam twinkies down her throat until she is so morbidly obese that Angel would have to hire on personal door greasers for her department, or go over and lick Angel's face. Well....the second one is more of a 'How can I get Angel to say screw it and, well, screw me?'
Gunn is alternating between throwing his two cents in (intermixed with street slang....Honestly, how many times can you refer to someone as 'my nizzle' before people start paying you NOT to use that term) and trying to look up my skirt. Sorry, buddy. The only hands on my merchandise better be the ones currently dialing the phone at his desk. Who is he calling? If I'm lucky, it's Dominoes. I would have packed a lunch if I'd known I was going to go this long without some quality Angel time. Like, Angel in and out of me time.
I swear to God, the minute I leave this office, Harmony is dust. No, on second thought, she's not good enough to deserve that. Too quick. I know. I'll have Angel send one of his flunkies to the local Dollar Store to pick up some new additions for that stupid tramp's wardrobe. And wear these new additions she will. I'm not above a little physical intimidation.
"Buffy." Hmmmm? Oh, finally, someone acknowledges me in my super-horny state. Honestly, he'd better not even TRY to ask me to kill anything like this. God, if Faith was right on that hungry-horny theory, then Angel would need some undead Viagra. Pronto.
"Yes, Angel?" He's smiling, good sign.
Better signs still: Wesley, Gunn, and Twiggie are heading for the exit, talking about whatever it is they talk about. Not much for caring about that right now.
His smile is growing bigger by the minute, and as the door closes he buzzes Harmony.
"Yes, sir?" Yeah, you better show my man some respect. I MIGHT show some mercy if you develop the ability to think on your own. All signs point to no on both counts.
"Hold all my calls and please send the remaining applicants home. Tell them we'll call them to reschedule. Oh, and if I hear one more knock on my door this afternoon, not only are you fired, you're dead. Okay?" Ooooohhh. Angel is getting all threatening and growly. Someone means business, finally.
And now, my revenge.
I saunter over to Angel, and push his shoulders until he's sitting in his chair. I kiss along his jaw and to his ear. I am definitely developing a sick and twisted ear fetish. I blow lightly and rejoice at the shudder that wracks his body. I slowly slide my hands down his chest to his belt. My fingers are behaving, finally, and I get the belt off. Slyly, I move in for a kiss and grab his hands.
Before he knows what's going on, I've secured his hands behind him to the arm of the chair. Sweet sweet victory is mine.
"Buffy...." He draws my name out and pretends to be aggravated. Nice try, sweetcheeks (and I mean that, both sets!) but we both know he can get out of that anytime he wants. Until then, he is mine to do with as I please. And please I will.
"Angel, can I ask you a question?" I ask this very sweetly as I position myself on his lap, rubbing against his cock AND positioning my nipples so that they can be easily reached by that cute little mouth. Well, if I didn't have my clothes on, anyway.
"I suppose..." Again he draws his answer out, but that *could* have something to do with me slowly revealing my lace covered chest to him, one button at a time. What is it with guys and boobs, anyway? I remove the stake from my skirt, which I pull up my knees, and throw my jacket towards a potted ficus tree.
I slowly slowly slowly slide the straps of the teddy down my shoulders, watching his eyes get wide and feeling him growing larger between my thighs. God, I want to rip his pants off with my teeth and fuck him until I pass out, but I don't often get a tied-up, life-size (Not to mention fully proportional) Angel doll to play with, so hey, this is me seizing the day. And shamelessly running my fingers along the edges of my breasts.
I think he's going to hyperventilate. An amazing feat for someone who doesn't breathe, but he's a man on the edge. He tracks my fingers like the soon-to-be morbidly obese Fred would track a funnel cake at the carnival. I give in an move one nipple within reach of those magical lips. He devours my nipple hungrily, swirling his tongue around while looking up at me over the rise of my breast. Oh, yeah, this is what it's all about, people. Not the hokey pokey.
"Did you ever name it?" Hunger is replaced by confusion. I'll clear this up for you, Angel.
"You know, your...." Grow up, Buffy. "cock." As soon as the word leaves my mouth, his eyes darken and I see his arms straining in an effort *not* to snap that belt in two.
I'm naughty. I bet Angel thinks I'm very naughty, and he'll think worse once I get this skirt off.
Ahhh, the joys of power. Especially over my yummy aroused Angel, who is looking at me like I've grown two heads. Judging by the size of his erection, at least they're two sexy heads. I feel the wicked grin steal across my face as I slide out of my skirt.
He breaks eye contact and sputters, "I-What kind of question is that?"
I think about this as deeply as I can, my body screaming at me in revulsion for even taking two seconds to think when I could have Angel inside me. My body is a total horndog sometimes.
I always heard guys name their dicks. Usually something macho and studly, and usually quite unlike the actual organ itself. You know, Big Bubba, the Stallion, El Capitan, that kind of thing. Riley named his Buford. Yeah, like the guy from 'Deliverance'. And it was totally creepy, to boot. Buford always had a way of eyeing me that made me feel...I dunno, violated? Like I wanted to take a day long shower. Sad, right? Spike, unoriginal to the core, just called it Spike Jr. Adding to the disturbing thought of Spike reproducing, referring to it as that always made me feel slightly....pedophiliac? Is that a word?
I grin at Angel and reach between us, unbuttoning and unzipping his trousers and freeing....Let's see. The Big One? Captain Orgasmo? Pedro, the Cabana Boy Penis of Love who refers to me as Miss Buffy and asks to rub lotion on my back? Time for Angel to spill....about the name. What else?
I leaned in to whisper in his ear as I stroked lightly up and down his shaft, delighting in his soft whipers. "Tell me, lover."
He clenched his teeth as I teased the vein right below the head of his cock. "No."
Witness my shock! "What do you mean, no?" This is not going as planned, not at all. If we're gonna spend our lives (or unlives, for some of us) together, we have to be honest with each other. Communication is the key, people, and the first step to that key is for me to know the proper name to use when addressing his penis! It's simply out of love and respect that I'm even asking! Well, that and maybe the insane need to get a T-shirt made for him that reads "Attention, touch <insert the name of Angel's dick here> and prepare for decapitation!"
"It's embarassing." Ahhh, nothing to be embarassed about, my shy little undead flower! We can solve this, quickly.
I climb out of his lap and kneel before him, placing my mouth the slightest fraction of an inch from the tip of his erection. I look into his eyes and repeat, "Tell me, lover." I allow a small drop of warm saliva to drop from my mouth onto the head of his cock, and I swear to god, his eyes roll back in his head. Okay, you got me. Maybe, *maybe* allow is the wrong word to use. Maybe it was my mouth practically watering to have him in it. Maybe.
He's breathing in and out so rapidly that I want to dance giddily around the room, then take him out on the streets and point him out to people. Behold the mystical powers of the Slayer, people of Los Angeles!
He hangs his head, then mumbles incoherently. "Smmmmwkee."
I run my tongue over the head, savoring the pre-cum for a moment. Cordy was right--definite salty goodness. "Louder, Angel."
Through clenched teeth, he mutters "It's Mr. Winky."
WHAT? That's....okay, Buffy, laugh on the inside, keep it in, don't screw this up. Shit. Who am I kidding? I start laughing so hard that I think I might heave all over Angel's shiny filing cabinets.
He looks sullen, so I stroke him with one hand while I wipe the tears from my eyes with the other. "Care to explain, Angel?"
"I was young, Buffy! It's too late to change it now! It's like....some kind of code between a man and his penis. You can't just change his name all willy-nilly and expect to have a healthy relationship." God, men and their dicks share more of a brain than I thought.
I grant him a small mercy and take the head of his cock into my mouth, snaking my tongue out to caress that tricky little vein while I suckle lightly.
'That was one step too far' is the last thought I have before I hear that undoubtedly expensive Italian belt snap into and feel myself practically thrown into his office wall.
He steals the rest of my thoughts and my breath as he takes my mouth in the fiercest kiss I have ever experienced. Ever. Like, I think I came just from that kiss. Nymphomania, here I come.
He is inside me, swiftly and roughly, and I know this isn't gonna last long. At least for me. I feel myself on the edge of nirvana already, and my eyes slam shut from the sheer pleasure and naughtiness inherent to Angel stroking...dear God help me...Mr. Winky in and out of me. That name is getting sexier all the time.
I feel his tongue and teeth at his mark on my neck. Is it right that I suddenly feel the urge to scream something along the lines of 'YES! You are the king, so do it big daddy! Do it All NIGHT LONG!'? I tamp down those inner screamers and, instead, bring my hands up to push his head into my throat, willing him to do what he is so carnally promising.
He growls, and before I know it, he is pistoning in and out of me so fast that I feel like an engine part (I wasn't really known for excelling in Shop in high school. So sue me). An about to orgasm engine part, but still, an engine part all the same. I feel him press those canines into my throat, finally utterly claimed by him after all these years, and my vision explodes. Really, like my eyeballs just rolled on out of my body to parts unknown. Which is okay. I could die right now and be happy, his grunts and slurps as he feeds from me the perfect accompaniment for an 'Ascension to Heaven' soundtrack.
I don't know if I'll ever stop coming around him, and then he jerks one final time, deeper than he's ever been, and lifts his head--then he howls. Honest to god, dogs baying at the moon howling. That is, by far, the sexiest thing I have ever seen. I feel his release inside me and slump against him as he gently lowers us both to the floor.
We lay there for what could easily have been years, his arms circling me as we stare into each other's eyes. This is a total Hallmark moment, except without the nudity. Maybe minus the whole creature of the night/killer of demons aspect. Screw it, it's totally Nightmare Before Christmas, Tim Burton style, but who cares?