Closer
By The Wicked Sluts
See Part 1 for Disclaimer
Part 5
***
Angel waited until they both had caught their breath, then took her hand and led her into the bathroom. Willow weakly followed, her knees wobbly from the exertion. They reached the shower and he wrapped one arm around her, lending his support as he turned on the water and adjusted it to a comfortable temperature, then half-carried, half-pushed her underneath the stream of water. Willow laid her head on Angel’s shoulder and let the water course over them, it’s pulse washing away the sweat and stickiness from their bodies at the same time it soothed her aching muscles.
Leaning her against the wall, Angel took a bottle of body wash, banana and vanilla scented and began lathering his body from head to toe. He smiled for a moment as the scent hit his nostrils…it was something he never would have purchased before Willow had begun sometimes-sharing his home. After rinsing, he soaped up his hands again and went to work on Willow, massaging the soap into her aching muscles and removing the scent of their lovemaking, and more importantly, any traces of her and Oz’s earlier adventures from her body. His stomach lurched slightly at the thought of her in Oz’s arms, her moving beneath him, clutching at him. Despite her assurances that Oz couldn’t fulfill her, the mere thought of her with another man gnawed at him like a rat after a sack of grain. He shook off the image. It was wrong. Buffy was his love, not Willow. Willow was his lover…scratch that…his sexual partner. They both needed to accept it for what it was and be done with ideas of anything else.
Angel opened his mouth to say as much, but as he looked up from washing down her feet, he saw her face. Her head tilted to one side, a fine rivulet of water streaming down her cheek from her hair, the contented half-smile playing at her lips. Surprisingly, his chest tightened. He couldn’t say the words, because at that precise moment they weren’t true. Not for him, at least. No matter that he loved Buffy…whatever he felt for Willow, whatever she was to him, she was not just his plaything.
A noise startled him from his thoughts. It was Willow’s stomach rumbling. She blushed and opened her eyes.
“Sorry,” She said demurely. “I guess I worked up an appetite.”
“That’s okay.” Angel turned off the water and reached for a couple of towels, handing one to Willow. “Dry off and wait for me on the bed.”
Angel ran the towel briskly over his body and then wrapped it around his waist, leaving Willow to follow his instructions.
***