Title: Kind Finds Kind Author: Random E-mail: kemarx@swbell.net Spoilers: Buffy: New Moon Rising, Angel: Sanctuary
***
For me, it was odd. I hadn't intentionally come to LA. It just seemed like the natural thing to do. I hadn't intended to see Angel, but it happened none the less.
He was still up, of course, when I knocked on his door at three AM. He didn't ask me any questions as to why I was there. He's just cool like that. He takes everything in stride.
He offered me a drink, and I accepted it gratefully. Downing half the amber liquid in one gulp, I stared into my glass. I could feel his eyes watching me, waiting for me to start, but it wasn't pressuring.
Drawing a deep breath, I asked, "How do you do it?"
He paused for a long moment before speaking. "It's hard sometimes."
I could see the pain in his eyes. It was deep, dark, hidden like he tried to shield it from the rest of the world, but I could see it plainly. It burned into me, a reflection of my own pain and my own beast. We were two different creatures, I knew, but we were more alike than different.
Vampires and werewolves are natural enemies. On my travels throughout South America and western Asia, I met many packs. They accepted me without question, because our blood flowed the same, and at times I even joined them on hunting parties. It was unnatural the things they did to the "leaches". I almost felt sorry for them. But vampires were evil, and in the fight against Chaos, they were to be destroyed.
It is kind of ironic that I feel safer in the presence of a supposed nemesis than in the company of humans. Human can't fully understand the supernatural, even though they try. It frightens them, makes them wary, and what they do not understand, they try to destroy, to dissect, to classify. It only seems fitting that I seek comfort in one of my kind, though a different species. Angel and I are kindred spirits. We are both abominations, outcasts to those we once called family.
As a vampire, Angel was cursed with a soul. As a man, I was cursed with a beast. We both try to fight our natures, but sometimes it's too compelling and too strong. It's hard sometimes.
"Willow moved on," I stated, still not looking at him.
"New boyfriend?" Angel asked, settling on the sofa next to me. His voice carried intimate knowledge and empathy; it was a great comfort to me.
"New girlfriend," I corrected, casting a sideways glance at the vampire next to me. He raised an eyebrow slightly and nodded slowly.
"You thought she would wait for you." His voice grew softer, more sympathetic. "You thought she loved you."
"Yeah." I nodded slowly, swirling the liquor in the glass.
He didn't say anything after that. A silence settled over us, like a comforting blanket, but it did not smother or seem awkward in any way. It was just there, and it was nice.
"I left her so she could have a normal relationship. She deserved that much. Is it wrong that I wanted to be the one to give that to her?" I asked, turning to look at him.
Angel smiled slightly and shook his head. "No, it's not."
I nodded in response. "Above all, I wanted her to be happy. I guess she is." I leaned my head back against the couch and closed my eyes.
"But..." Angel started and I cracked an eyelid open and looked at him from under my eyelashes. I waited expectantly for him to continue. "But, are you happy?"
I closed my eyes and didn't respond.
I was taken aback when he kissed me. His lips were softer than I had imagined, his body temperature warmer than I expected. As he pulled away from me, my eyes fluttered open and I stared at him with wonder.
"I'm sorry Oz," he whispered softly, his voice thick. He pulled away from me, and I place my hand on his arm.
"Angel, please." My own voice was equally as rough. The past few days had been hard on me, and this desire that stirred in my gut and wound itself around my heart were both new and familiar at the same time.
He touched my face gently with a tentative finger, stroking the planes of my cheeks and nose and lips softly. He cupped my jaw with his strong hands and pulled me forward in another kiss.
This time, I responded eagerly. I needed contact with another person, even if that person wasn't fully human. His cool tongue slipped past my lips and I sucked on it hungrily. My fists clenched the front of his shirt, and acting on my bestial instinct, I wanted more.
A voice in the back of my head whispered that this was wrong, kissing and wanting to fuck another guy was an abomination, an unnatural coupling that was reserved for lepers and social outcasts. One thing would lead to another, and I would forever be soiled. It was a dirty act, one God looked down upon.
When was the last time God had graced my thoughts? Both of my parents were atheists, and certainly my time on the Hellmouth taught me that modern religion has a few thing terribly wrong. My doubts were finally quelched by the realization that the moment I was bitten, I was no longer a child of Allah, Jehovah, Krishna, whatever name various human religions gave the supreme deity. Even Luna, goddess of the moon, mother of the wolf, had turned her back on me, for living as a man went against the lupine order of the universe. I was a social outcast, by both of the societies that claimed my blood, and a leper to my bestial nature.
Sleeping with another man didn't seem so wrong when compared to the larger picture. Besides, Willow had no trouble with gender-bias. In my heart, this seemed natural, logical. Angel and I were more alike than different, so why couldn't we seek comfort in each other's arms?
"Oz," Angel breathed my name as he pulled away from me. In my reverie, I hadn't been aware that I had unbuttoned his shirt. His chest was pale, as it should be considering he isn't a person who frequently sunbathes, and it had a luminous quality in the dim light. Each sculpted muscle looked like a work of art--indeed, his ivory complexion made him look as if he were carved of the purest marble. He was an animated statue, a walking monument that should be encased at the Louvre. "Is this what you want?"
"Yes," I panted without hesitation, pulling his shirt from his shoulders. He worked his hands under my t-shirt, stroking up my ribs and chest. I pulled away from him reluctantly, tugging my shirt over my head and tossing it away carelessly. He kissed at my neck, dragging me into his lap as his fingers dances across my back.
I straddled his hips, his groin pressing urgently into mine. Our hips moved in unison, and his tongue worked the skin along my collarbone. I shivered in delight, and he worked the button of my pants. He laid me back on the couch and pulled my jeans down my legs, my cock springing free from the rough cloth.
He shucked off the rest of his own clothes and climbed atop me. He kissed me feverishly, his broad hand wrapping around my urgent erection. I reciprocated the gesture, following his lead, and gently touched his throbbing penis as it pressed into my thigh. He inhaled sharply through his nose, and I took that as a good sign, so I quickened my strokes, gently adding pressure.
He speed up his ministrations on my member, and soon we were both groaning as we came at the same time. Too sated to move, I laid prone on the couch. Angel rolled off me, settling next to me with his back to the room. He produced a throw blanket from somewhere and draped it over both our bodies. I fell quickly into a restful, dreamless sleep, snug and secure in a cradle of leather and cool flesh, relaxed by the smell of soap and sweat and sex.
When I woke up the next afternoon, I was alone. Angel wasn't in the apartment, I knew because I couldn't smell his distinctive scent of raw power. I sat up wearily and rubbed my eyes. Sometime while I slept, Angel had cleaned up and dressed me in a pair of boxer shorts. His, I assumed, because I didn't habitually wear underwear. Sitting on the coffee table in front of me was a box of breakfast pastries and a note with two words.
"Please stay."
***
The End.