Title: Bloody Wings
Author: Amberina
Posted: 03-17-2003
Email: amberina426@aol.com
Rating: NC-17
Category: post-RoF fic, Cordelia/Angelus, NC-17
Content: Cordelia/Angelus, minor Cordelia/Connor
Summary: Angelus watches.
Spoilers: Rain of Fire aka Apocalypse Nowish
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
Distribution: NF of course. Anyone else ask please.
Notes: Written directly after watching Rain of Fire - so this fic is AU from there.
Feedback: Please?Cordelia. Connor. Fucking. Skin everywhere, his hands all over her. My bastard son is fucking my . . . what is she anyway? Not too long ago I thought I was in love with her, but now I feel nothing but rage.
I'm imagining how great it would be to feel her neck snap under my bare hands - oh her lovely neck, so perfect in everyway, Cordelia is. Except for the small detail of her whoring herself out to my son. I could snap her neck so easily, so quickly her brain wouldn't even register that anything was happening before she was dead.
But oh no of course I wouldn't let it be that simple, no no. See, it's not about the kill, not really, it's about making them squirm, keeping them alive for as long as possible, all that time in excruciating pain.
I want to . . .
I need to see her in excruciating pain. I need to be the one to have caused it.
Her neck, I could just reach out - it would be so beautiful, the gorgeous look on her face as she dies. I want - I need to see that, I need to to cause that.
***
Cordelia sighed as Connor collapsed on top of her. He rolled off of her and stared at her in - almost awe - as she resituated herself on the bed into a comfortable laying position.
Cordelia stared up at the ceiling, her eyebrow creased.
There was silence for a while until finally Connor asked, "Are you all right?"
Cordelia nodded and turned to him, her gaze unsteady. "I'm . . . " but she let herself trail off.
"What's wrong?" Connor asked, concerned.
Cordelia shook her head. "He's coming."
"What?" Connor asked softly. "What's coming?"
Cordelia's eyes lit up in terror as she spotted someone or something behind him.
Connor turned around. "Dad."
***
I charge at my bastard son, throwing him out of the way. He is my son, and he's tough, he's certainly not down for the count, but it bides me a little time with my . . .
"Whore," I growl at her, before I pull her up.
"Angel - " she starts but I cover her pretty little mouth with my hand.
"No words."
She whimpers, her eyes darting around wildly. I faintly make out "Connor," and I grab her up by her neck. She gags, and it's like the most beautiful symphony ever produced as she chokes and struggles, whimpers and cries trying to escape from her mouth.
I sense movement behind me and I drop Cordelia for a moment, and spin around, coming face to face with my son. Hatrid glows in his eyes and he's ready to fight. Daddy's busy, son, I think, before I backhand him and he falls back, hitting his head on the hard floor.
The thwack of his skull against the floor is gorgeous.
I turn back to Cordelia, who is scampering to get away. I catch her by the waist and pull her to me. She fights, but oh how I love it when they fight. I can feel her naked breasts pushing up against my chest and I smell him on her.
I smell his cum on her.
She's mine.
Her neck, her perfect neck, it snaps so easily, and I feel a bit of regret for not holding out for a while. I let her body drop to the floor, and it's like a work of art, so twisted and perfect, the way her body fell. Her eyes gaze up emptily at the ceiling and it's . . .
I hear Connor stirring and I turn around to face him. His eyes open and dart around a bit before resting on me.
He sits up slowly, obviously in much pain. "What happened? Who are you? Who am I?"
I almost smile.
"Don't worry, I'll tell you all about it."
He looks confused and spots Cordelia lying there, nude and deviod of life. "She's . . ."
"Beautiful, isn't she?" I ask him softly.
He nods. "She was evil wasn't she?"
I nod sadly. "Yes, she was."
"Who are . . . we?"
"That's not important," I say. "What's important is that you're still alive."
"The fight - it was bad, wasn't it?"
I nod.
"She doesn't look so tough."
"Sometimes people are more than they seem," I say ever so softly before pulling him into a hug.
His body is tense at first, but then he relaxes into the hug. I sink my teeth into his neck, and he's still too woozy to realize what's going on. I bite at my wrist, still red blood springing to the surface, and force it to his mouth. He doesn't want to, but he does anyway, suckling at it softly.
The father will drink the blood of the son. I snicker softly.
Now the son will drink the blood of the father.
End.