Story by: cupidsbow
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU
Note: "Written" for fiercelydreamed's Plagiarism Party. The original is an unfinished SGA McKay/Sheppard story, Guru.
Angel curled his right leg behind his neck, carefully hitching his kaftan so that the fabric wouldn't pull. The three advanced-level acolytes sitting in a circle around him followed suit.
"Enjoy the tension," said Angel. "It's through tension that pleasure grows."
The group sat motionless for a long time, breathing quietly, letting pleasure grow.
Cordelia was the first to break: her face blushing red, then fading to white as her fingers rubbed and pressed at the knotted thigh muscles of her curled leg. Then, with a disappointed sound, she lost her balance and rolled over onto her side.
"Be totally centered in your body," said Angel, ignoring the interruption. "External distractions reduce your awareness of sensation." He was starting to get a definite buzz on; his bones felt warm and liquid and the moonlight slanting in through the French windows felt like it was stroking his skin.
A moment later, Lorne let out a little huffing whimper--he'd come to the discipline late and, despite a natural aptitude, found the advanced flexibility training difficult. He stuck it out for another minute before rolling out of position and stretching his legs.
Angel noted, pleased, that Lorne had an erection.
"Feel your inner peace," said Angel. "It's only when you're at peace with yourself that you can truly connect with another person." He smiled hopefully at Fred; perhaps today they would achieve a shared altered state of consciousness. The signs were promising: her nipples were hard nubs beneath her kaftan, and she smelled of arousal beneath her clean soap-and-herb scent. His own arousal was sending tiny shivers across his skin.
They sat, gazes locked.
Then Fred twitched. It was subtle, only noticeable to Angel due to long familiarity with Fred's body, but it signalled that she was in serious discomfort.
Angel sighed. It was clear none of his acolytes would find transcendental joy today. He opened his mouth to end the session just as the doors to the practice room slammed open and three people in street-clothes barged in.
"Charlatan!" the woman in the lead said, pointing at Angel accusingly. She had a pretty mouth that was currently set in a disdainful sneer, and she seemed to project presence like a force-field. "What the hell have you done with my sister?"
Gunn was hovering in the doorway, looking like he wanted to intervene; Angel gave him a pointed look, and Gunn stayed where he was. Perhaps Angel's latest lecture on the Sancrosanctness of Consensual Touching had had an impact. Finally. Maybe there was hope for Gunn yet.
Angel unhooked his leg from behind his head. "Sister?"
The woman pulled some crumpled pages of notepaper out of a pocket and waved them. "Dawn's always been a flake, but 'Oh, Buffy, I've found sexual enlightenment.' What kind of claptrap is that? I demand you release her right now, or..." Her smile was equal parts smug and determined. "I'll put you on the Watcher’s NewsHour! Once the idiots in the popular press get hold of the story, your little sex cult will be hounded non-stop. So hand her over unless you want your life to become a living hell!"
The two people who had entered the room behind Buffy looked unsurprised by either the abuse or the threat: the tall, eyepatched one was looking at Gunn appraisingly, the other was short, red-headed and nervously fiddling with some kind of talisman.
"Buffy," Eyepatch hissed. "You promised to try asking nicely first. That’s the only reason I agreed to come!"
"Oh, please!" said Buffy. "Like a," she paused to make sarcastic airquotes, "sex guru can be reasoned with!"
Then Buffy's bright-blue gaze locked onto Angel's and Angel found himself transfixed, body thrumming with a sudden burst of energy, while around him the world went hot and slow and sharply sweet, like stretched toffee.
Buffy's lips continued to move, a torrent of words gushing from her mouth. Angel heard them indistinctly, as though from a long way away; a word here and there registering when the woman emphasised a point: "cult" and "fraud" and "Dawn" and "over my dead body." Every word pushed Angel back in time, back to his human days, back to the familiar, easy, rhythms of repressed fertility and easy wanting and the heady thrill of fast, hard sex. All he wanted to do was leap up, stuff all those words back into Buffy's mouth, punch, fight, push the woman around, knock her down, press her to the ground, keep her there, fuck her hard... It took an extreme effort of will to sublimate the urge to bite her.
Angel's cock throbbed with the effort.
Buffy's hands waved wildly, jabbing in Angel's direction, punching the air.
Angel's skin felt raked by fire with every motion.
"I mean, only romance-reading morons believe in this crap you're peddling..." Buffy strode across the room until she was right inside the tantric circle. "...because there's no such thing as transcendental sex!" she said, almost shouting the words in Angel's face.
Before Buffy could get any closer, Fred took her down with a neat swipe to the ankles; as she fell, her expression flicked from outrage to shock and fear.
It was like a punch to the gut, and godammit! How many times did Angel have to give the Consensual Touching speech!
When Buffy landed, letting out an ooohhff, a deep, unexpected feeling of protectiveness erupted through Angel; he wanted to reach out, touch Buffy's face, tell her that everything would be okay; that it was all a mistake; that Fred wouldn't really hurt her; that Angel wasn't really going to pin her to the floor without her consent. Angel had just long enough to be surprised by the strength of it, how strange it was that he should feel so much for someone he didn't know, even if he was high on tantric energy and a horrible kind of nostalgia, and then Buffy rolled to her feet faster than he could see and stood, fists raised, and like a baseball bat to the back of the head, Angel’s orgasm hit and he was coming, coming so hard, so fucking good, and it felt like something was tearing loose deep inside, trying to set itself free.
ETA: Ha! I'm terrible at writing good badfic. I've just realised I should have made more than one of the minor characters Gunn, and maybe confused some pronouns. As it stands this is just bad badfic, which is so embarrassing. But I stand firm in my solidarity, and leave it in all its shoddy glory! :)