THAT EVENING

                He went out demon hunting, he needed to kill. He needed to fight. It was early still, but he decided to call it quits, he had this nagging suspicion he should go home. So he did. He threw his jacket on the couch and sat in the chair for a few minutes. He smelled Buffy faintly; her scent still lingered in the place. She had only been there a matter of days, and already the place was full of her.

                He heard someone in the other room, clearing the throat, and he turned around to see her standing there in purple silk. "Are you coming to bed?" She asked.

                "Buffy, what are you doing here?"

                "Well, you did give me the key, unless you want it back."

                "NO! It's yours. Buffy... you never disappointed me."

                "Shh... don't talk Angel. Kiss now, talk later." She walked to him smiling as he stood up and pressed her heated body against his. "Angel?"

                "Yes?"

                "Would you do something for me?"

                "Of course, anything, what?"

                "Draw."

                "What?" She picked up a wrapped box from the floor and handed it to him. He opened it up and gasped. "Buffy, these are wonderful!"

                "I thought you're going to need some."

                "Why?"

                "Because I want you to draw me Angel, I want to watch your face and your hands, and I want to see you draw me."

                "These are perfect Buffy. Let me go get some paper."

                "No! Got it covered. Come with me." She took his hand and led him into the bedroom where she had an easel set up with a bunch of blank canvases.

                "Buffy..."

                "I want you to use these pencils and all this other junk that I hope you know to use, to draw me."

                "Are you going to pose? Most of these have been from memory, not from a model."

                "You get the real deal this time, how do you want me?"

                "How don't I want you may elicit a shorter answer."

                "Okay," she slipped the nightgown off, and it fell to the floor, he watched her completely entranced, "How don't you want me?" She asked as she began lighting candles around the room.

                "I don't want you gone. Otherwise, everything else goes, covered in chocolate, whip cream, anything goes, but I don't want you a vampire or demon, unless absolutely necessary."

                "Deal." She took out a white satin blanket from a bag and let it fall down on the bed.

                "What's that?" He asked.

                She turned and smiled devilishly at him, "Just the beginning Angel, just the beginning." She pulled out a red silk scarf and lay down over the blanket and draped the scarf over her body. "Are you going to draw or just sit there drooling?" She looked at him. "Angel?"

                He watched her lay down gently on the bed, fanning her hair around her face, draping the scarf over her breasts and lower abdomen. He usually wouldn't like the color choice, but it suited her in this moment.

                "Angel?"

                "Hmm? What? I'm sorry, what were we doing?"

                "Where were you?"

                "In my imagination again."

                "You go there a lot." She said.

                "It's the only place where this could ever happen."

                "Well, this is reality, are you going to be able to concentrate on drawing?"

                "Yes." He sat down and went to work, looking up at her and drawing every curve, every shadow. She looked divine in the candlelight. She had incense going too, vanilla, the scent that was her every essence. Her eyes were sparkling as she watched him. His whole body was tingling all over, he felt his pulse racing, something he hadn't felt in a long time. She rested her hand on her stomach, with the Claddaugh on it and that was the center of the picture.

                He hadn't used charcoal in a while, and she had gotten some different colors, but he didn't want too much color. He found the perfect color of her eyes, a blue and green, and he colored the scarf in, lightly. Then he sought to find the perfect blend for her hair and skin, and he created those too.

                She lay there, watching him work. He was so involved in the picture. Her chest was gasping for air, and every inch of her body was tingling, trembling, her pulse was racing. She had never felt so nervous; she had never posed for a portrait of any kind, but wanted to do this. She watched him and he stopped for a minute to take his shirt off. She smiled at him, and he smiled back.

                "Angel?"

                "Yes?"

"You said in the letter that I make you feel vulnerable, is that true?"

                "Everything I said in those letters was the truth."

                "I have a confession." She said as he continued to draw.

                "What?"

                "Angel, my body is shaking so much right now, I can't even see straight."

                "Are you okay?" That was a good question. She was. This was the most erotic moment of her lifetime, he hadn't even so much as touched her, and she felt as if they had made love a hundred times over already. "Buffy?"

                "I'm perfect." She smiled. "I'm just... I..."

                "What?"

                "I want you Angel, I want you so much, I can't wait, it's like I'm going to burst."

                "I know, I'm almost done, I hope you'll like it."

                "I think I will." It was true, every glance he took, made her feel like a queen, she had never known what it was like to be worshipped, until these moments with Angel.

                "Done." He said taking a step back.

                "Can I, can I see it?"

                "Yes, it's for you." She stood up and walked over to him and he wrapped his arms around her as she looked at it and just the feeling of his hands on her bare skin made her tremble and sent shivers down her back. He wasn't as cool as she remembered, but he wasn't warm like her either.

                "It's beautiful Angel."

                "I'll have to get some spray stuff, so it won't smear, but it's done." She looked in the bottom right hand corner and he had written something there. "That's the title."

                She smiled and read the calligraphy, "My Goddess." Under the title was one single letter, A."I didn't know you knew calligraphy."

                "Well, like I said, there's a lo..." she turned her head and pulled his head down to hers and caught his lips in a passionate kiss. "A lot you don't know."

                "I want to find out." She turned around and pressed herself up to him and enjoyed the feeling of his skin on hers. He picked her up and carried her to the bed, she sat back and he crawled over her. "I feel like I'm seventeen again being with you for the first time, its odd and kind of exciting really."

                "Buffy?"

                "Yes?" He began a trail of kisses from her neck to her navel.

                "Are you sure you want this to be now? I mean, we've waited this long..."

                She pulled his head up to hers and looked deep in his eyes. "Angel, I've waited too long for new memories of you, I've slept too many nights disappointed because Riley wasn't you. I want to forget those nights; I want new memories with you. I want you to touch me in only the way you can, and make me feel the only way you can. I want you Angel, so bad it hurts." He continued his kisses down over her breasts. "Angel?"

                "What?"

                "Do you want this? I don't want you to, if you'd rathe..." He silenced her protests with a kiss.

                "I've never wanted anything else."

                That night, they made love. The connected in the only way that truly satisfied the ache they had felt for five years. They worshipped each other, and memorized every inch of the other with kisses and caresses. One moment they were tender, the next they were animals, they brought each other beyond the bounds of reason, beyond sanity, beyond all logic. They crashed together and they rose together and the picture he could have painted would show them working as one. Neither knew where the others body began and their own ended, and as they lay after several hours of love making, they both had never felt more alive.

                "Angel, are you still awake?" Buffy whispered against his skin. They were entangled in each other, arms draped over the other, as close as they could be.

                "I can't sleep. I know I want to, but I can't. I don't want to, I want to live in this moment forever."

                "You can."

                "What?"

                "Draw, draw us together like you have before. I love seeing myself through you eyes."

                "Maybe I will." He kissed her forehead. "I cannot find the words to express how much I love you Buffy."

                "I know, I feel exactly the same." They fell asleep, two content lovers, wrapped within the embrace of their soulmate.

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