Title: And Nothing But...
Author: Princess Twilite
Posted:
Rating: NC17
Email: Princesstwilite2@aol.com
Content:
Summary: The truth comes out, through a little blue bottle, that is NOT what it seems.
Spoilers: Anything is fair game. If you're not looking to get spoiled... you MIGHT not want to read this.
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
Distribution: Maybe if you ask nicely.
Notes: This is in answer to Boy Slayer's challenge. I won't say what it is, because it might give something away... ALSO - to make this fic work - just assume that Wes wasn't the one who took Connor away - it can be whoever you imagine it to be. Just NOT him. I don't want to see my poor Wes as the whipping boy in this story.
Feedback: Feedback is a gem.
Dedication: To Mulder and Scully, who taught me the fine art of subtext. I don't care what everyone tells me. YOU'RE REAL!!!Part 4
His mouth was bloody still, from Groo’s solid fists, when he walked through the sliding doors of the hospital. The solid whoosh of the doors closing behind him, had him jumping slightly. A chagrined grin made him look a little manic. Bright lights seared his eyes and had him blinking, trying to rid himself of the burning sensation.
Shouldn’t have come…
He knew it. Cordy would know it. She’d probably stake him on sight. Fact is, he couldn’t really blame her, after all - he’d just finished pounding on her boy friend, beating him down. And he’d enjoyed it, letting out that aggression.
It had been there, beneath the surface. The animal - just waiting to be released and take what a part of him, a part he wasn’t exactly proud of... thought was wholly and rightfully his.
The hospital was full of weeping men, and stoic women, trailing their blood across sterile, chilly floors. Enough blood floating around this room, to make a vampire get sick at the thought of drinking it all. Angel sighed, shook his head, and tried not to trip over the gagging, sniffling, and shivering people in the waiting room as he walked to the front desk.
The life in the room made him shudder.
A black man near by, who looked similar to Gunn, rough - tough, and a little bit soft - was holding a knife wounded arm, brilliant red blood gushing between his fingers and down onto the floor. He was trying to get the nurses attention, but she seemed to be ignoring him, her bright purple nails tapping cooly at the computer. The man was getting frustrated, weak - his voice cracking as he pushed a form with bloody fingerprints on it, at her. Angel looked away, then back - as he stood in the glacier like line. The nurse still hadn’t taken the form, instead - took one from the person behind the man, a person with lighter skin. Then got on the phone, dialing up a number and smiling.
All she needed was some bubble gum to complete the cliche.
Before Angel knew what he was doing he’d pushed ahead of the line, and ignoring angry mutters from behind him, took the phone from the woman’s shocked grip and shoved the man’s form at her. She stared up at him blindly for a second, before glancing over his shoulder at the weak, trembling man. Sighing, she nodded.
Racism was very alive this day in age, and it bred in the bright lights. No matter who you were, there was always someone out there hating you.
“ Where’s room 233?” He asked her, she pointed in the general direction as she began flipping through the pages of the form. There was a faint wrinkle of her lips but the black man smiled a little at him, and Angel smiled back, just as slightly - blood shining from his mouth.
Angel followed the nurses directions, finding the right hall way - watching the little blue signs above the door for the right number. He felt like a voyeur, passing these rooms, with sick people and sick people’s family in them. So he tried to keep his eyes focused on those signs, tried not to notice the fitful heartbeats, and the odor of bad blood.
Shivering, he closed the flaps of his leather jacket.
Cordy was going to kick his ass, he thought as he came upon the right room. The door was open; Groo was alone, laying there with fresh bruises covering his face. The heart monitor was a steady beep, for which Angel heaved a sigh of relief. He didn’t enter though - wasn’t sure he could. But even if he knew, he wouldn’t have stepped a foot into that room if his life depended on it. Jesus, he’d lost control - he felt sick at remembering it. A low churning, that grew into a flame of jealousy, twisted around guilt beneath the heart.
Seeing that ring…
Angel swallowed, backing up and away from the room.
Cordelia was getting married. Didn’t sound right. Cordelia CHASE was getting married.
Groo’s hands twitched, as if reaching out for someone, and suddenly Angel wished horrible things, like the son of a bitch had never existed. Then he realized where his thoughts were going, down that dark, dangerous path - where things were not one color, or right; not even wrong.
He just shook his head at himself, stepping further back, away from the temptation to just give in for once, give in and do something the bad parts of him wanted to do.
Groo was a good guy. One of the best. And right then, Angel despised him for it.
He settled near by, at the edge of the hall. Where there was just enough shadows to keep him concealed from any passerby, but enough light so he could see when Cordy returned to Groo’s room.
Crossing his arms, he waited.
She showed up about five minutes later, one hand rubbing her temple as if she was concentrating on NOT thinking anything, the other squeezed a Styrofoam cup of coffee, cold. No steam rose from it. She must have been making a telephone call - because the change that usually jingled in her pocket was absent.
He tensed at the sight of her - muscles springing forward, sheer will holding him back from going to her. He was too damn used to being able to approach her, lay his hands on her like it was okay, have her LET him.
But the past day had surely changed it all. First he’s groped her in a fit of lust, then didn’t respond to her kiss, THEN kissed her when he shouldn’t have and told her it didn’t mean anything, then proceeded to beat the crap out of Cordelia's...yeah, swallow big guy... Lover.
Cordy stopped in front of the room, just stopped. Looking in as if she wasn’t sure what to do. The bright lights made her skin seem washed out, those he was sure if he said as much, he’d get a 3 inch heel in unpleasant places.
Sorry, Cordy.
She flinched, seemed to turn around; search the hallways for someone or something.
Who are you looking for Cordy? Thought you’d all ready found him. Big wedding and all.
Even the sound of the voice in his head was bitter.
Cordelia stopped, stiffened, and then turned in his direction. She seemed to be staring directly at him. Angel panicked, shoved aside a laundry cart, yanked open the Janitors closet and dove inside. The slam of the door behind him was really MUCH too loud. But it could have been his heightened sense of hearing, that made it seem so. He hoped.
What the hell he was hiding from, he wasn’t sure. Reality maybe. That dirty place, where he’d killed more people than the plague - and where Cordy didn’t really love him, just loved him like a friend. A damn friend. Not that he should want her to love him anyway - after all, hadn’t that been why he’d turned her away? Wasn’t that the reason why he’d gone through all that trouble to make one sincere kiss, a complete and utter lie? Or at least make her believe it.
But even in that moment, with the taste of her in his mouth, and his lips saying things, he knew he had to - well, he’d had that soft in the gut feeling, because he knew she loved him. Just KNEW it. So it was okay, to say, “Hey Cordy, I know you’re not immortal or anything, but I’m gonna make you wait a few decades, because I’ve got things to pay for. And you’re the only thing that hurts enough when it’s taken away, that I’d get that paying done and over with.”
It had been okay to know she loved him. He hadn’t given any consideration to leaving her high and dry, hadn’t let himself. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her, so to keep from it, he’d told himself she’d get over it.
Selfish. Utterly.
That’s why he’d shown up at her apartment tonight - planned on making things as right as they could be between them, wanted to assure himself, and hopefully her that their friendship would remain intact. If all else failed - if the world exploded, that was the one thing he wanted to be able to count on, and know that it still lived.
But he’d stepped instead, into his worst nightmare.
Angel could hear the foot steps approaching him, the sharp sound of her heels against the tiled floor. Each step pricking into his heart and making it speed up. From fear? Maybe. But he wasn’t likely to admit it to himself. Besides, he was trapped, completely. And if she chose to open this door, he would be caught, completely.
Apparently he was doomed.
He realized this when the door to the closet was jerked open, and she stood standing there like an avenging god, just less... friendly.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Angel frowned, blinking at her in the bright lighting. In the distance, he could hear the familiar sound of the Janitor rolling his cart along the hallways. Something made him grab her wrists and jerk her into the closet with him. It might have been the way she smelled; so fresh and revitalizing when all he’d been breathing in was the dying.
Cordy looked up at him with wide, saucer like eyes. And then her mouth twitched up, and even in the dark - with the door slammed behind them, he could see the creeping flush rising up her cheeks. What...
Cordelia shook herself out of it, and slammed one solid fist into his shoulder. It knocked him back against the wall, and a broom fell over, sounding like thunder in the small closet. “Just what do you think you’re doing, ANGEL?” She shook her head, glare pointed straight into his face, though he was sure she couldn’t see him. “Coming here, skulking through the hallways, hanging out with the..” she sniffed lightly, turning her nose up. “Wash!”
“Cordy,” he began, not sure what he was going to say. “I’m sorry.” It was meaningful, it was meant - but she just frowned harder at him, shoving back against the wall and grunting. He reached out a hand in the darkness, tucking a stubborn strand of hair behind her ear. “ I’m really sorry.”
“For what?” She muttered, mouth twisted. “ Fingering me? Kissing me? Or beating up my boyfriend?”
Angel opted for silence, because he was sorry for it all. And yet not. And she seemed to know it, growing red and frustrated, shifting in the uncomfortable confines. “If you don’t answer me, I’m outta here.”
Blowing out a long wind, from inside where old trees swung, Angel took a step closer to her. Felt the warmth of her so near, sizzle him right through his skin.
“I’m sorry... for all of it. But I meant it every time.” Came his husky voice, the emotion held back by a thin thread of control. Her forehead wrinkled, and her pupils grew deep. She could see nothing, hear nothing but her unstable breathing, and his own compensation for that human condition. No thoughts. On and off. She hated the fact that her worries of mind control, government implants, mystical mojo and telepathy had been shoved to the side. But what could she really do about it? Who says she wasn’t just imagining it all?
She wanted to hang onto that thought. “ I mean..” Angel’s clothes tightened around his skin. “What I really mean, is that I’m... that I wanted to do what I did. All three times. Christ Cordy - I’m... well, not human, but I’m me, and I make mistakes.”
Cordelia snorted, but it was hard when her throat was reaching up inside of her brain and tugging out little explanations that wrought dangerous sparks in her heart. Okay, Drama Queen, time to stop playing.
She leaned as casually as she could against the wall, wishing more than anything that she was a smoker. Finally, she found a steady voice.
“So do I. What happened between us? Sexual tension. I want you. You know it. And I know just as well, that you want me. It was bound to happen. Two hotties trapped in a difficult working environment. You should always expect the worst.”
Outside, the cart squeaked by, a soft humming trailing behind it.
“The worst?” Angel’s voice was annoyed, and a little angry. “That’s what you call it?”
She shrugged, pretending to not notice the large, infuriated body that hovered so close.
“ I call it a good time, that was fun while it lasted... all of a few minutes. Now it’s over, and we need to get back to the normal way of things. Which for me? That doesn’t include you banging on my boyfriend’s skull. Or any of the extra-curricular activities that we’ve been participating in.” She patted him on his shoulder condescendingly. “No hard feelings hmm?”
The sound of his control on so many things, snapping in two and then shattering, could be heard from miles around. When she would have left, he shoved her back against the wall, even as the subtle scent of her fear filled up the small space. He took a step forward, slamming his palm against the wall beside her when she would have ducked through. “ What’s your problem?!”
Angel smiled slowly. If she could have seen it, she wouldn’t have thought it as pretty as the others. This one was raw. Like a wound scraped and scraped until the blood had gone dry and there was nothing more to take, steal... He didn’t want to be guilty any more. The pain had become a saw blade, taken to the bone.
“My problem - CORDELIA . . . ” He leaned in, whispering as he trailed one finger down the length of her arm, delighting in her shivers. He didn’t really care if they were from fear or lust. Not at that moment. “It’s not obvious? Everything else seems to be so clear to you, but not this.” His mouth at her ear, not touching - just there, still and revealing. His hand roved across her torso, palm flat against her stomach, and then without warning his fingers shoved beneath her pants, and into her panties, cupping her there, stroking. “I love you and I can’t have you. And I’m sick of you rubbing my nose in it like a dog and his shit. I can’t help it, I want to fuck you, screw you, make love to you . . . I just want you to sit still for a minute, and let me be near you.” His tongue lashed out; slid across the base of her throat and Cordelia gasped.
Her heart split open.
And then he was stepping away from her. Hand glistening much like the ring on her finger. Her knees gave out beneath her, and she slid down the wall. A gooey mess of confusing emotions, many of which involved the heat that seared the tender flesh of her vagina.
She could feel his smirk burning straight into her. And there was no not believing him, not when she could hear his words coming from his heart and some place deeper, before they even left his mouth. Nothing but the truth.
“Fact is, Cordy, I’ve been doing what’s best for you. And you seem to be getting over it quick enough. Forgive me for being a little pissed off. After all, I may be a martyr, but I never knew a martyr that had to put up with seeing what they sacrificed day after day . . . After day.” Angel pushed open the door, light flooding from the hall way. His face was drawn up, someone was scurrying down the hall when they say him standing there. “So you’re going to have to excuse my pounding on Groo. I won’t say I’m sorry for it, I won’t Cordy, so don’t even try to make me. He gets you in all your wedded bliss, a few jabs that will heal because, ‘he heals almost as fast as Angel does!’ And I’m not feeling inclined toward apologies at this moment, though I may have been a moment ago.”
Damn you Cordy, for being another weapon to cut me down.
And then he was gone. Striding away, even as a nurse came struggled to keep up with him, saying things in a loud nasally voice that Cordy was too dazed to understand. Carefully, she dragged the door shut again, preferring the dark to hide her flaming cheeks.
Wedded Bliss? Must have seen the ring...
So Angel was in love with her. She’d made a misjudgement there. A big one. It didn’t make up for him almost killing Groo. But . . . Angel was in love with her. And he was hurting her, because he thought it was inevitable - because that’s what he did with women, and why should she be any different?
Well, maybe it was time she took a little action. Maybe it was time to lay his insecurities to rest. And postpone the blood bath she’d planned for him after that little scene at her apartment.
She sat there. And sitting there, she planned. Take care of Groo. Seduce Angel. Let Angel know she loved him. In that order? Maybe. Rubbing the small grin from her face, it all fell into sync, as it hadn’t ever really before.
Yeah, Angel. You love me. But whoever said you couldn’t have me?
* * *
A woman dressed in gold smiled, her white teeth shimmering with sensuality as she opened her eyes.
Cordelia Chase - reading the minds of those around her.
And to think, all she’d wanted was sex. And she’d gotten everything. More than she’d bargained for, to be sure. But she’d asked for what she needed, and had been obliged.
Eyes closed again again. Willing the image of Cordelia planning like a mad woman in the closet, to the forefront of her brain. Without opening her eyes, she carefully pressed her fingers over the flickering flame of her silver candle. The potion... had expired.
Outside her open bedroom door, man, woman and demon frolicked, the scent of sex heavy in the air. She lay back, waiting for Cordelia to figure out what games had been played - would be the most fun of all.
The truth... what a beautiful, dangerous thing.
Part 5
Angel leaned his head back against the couch seat, longing filling up his throat. It was times like these, when you wanted someone so bad that you ached, that the world became crystal clear for what it was.
Touching her had been...
A moment in heaven, his finger moving over her soft flesh through the jeans. He re-played that moment in his head, the scent burned into his nostrils. She had wanted him. Now, he rose up hard against his jeans. Thinking about what he should have done. Shoved her back against the couch and tore those jeans down her thighs. Anything to get a taste.
Angel rubbed his tongue over the roof of his mouth, as if it might come back. One precious night at the ballet - with his fingers inside of her. The edge of her lacy panties rubbing against his knuckles as he traced her from the inside.
His weakness. Swallowing hard, he tried to bring about some sense of control. But remembering that one night where his control had snapped like twigs, now ever time she was near - he was unable to help himself, unable to keep himself from touching her. Anywhere. Everywhere.
He was basically alone in the hotel. Lorne had seen his aura and had pretty much ordered Angel to be by himself, until he could work out the turmoil in his brain, his heart, his fucking cock. But now, he was about to give in, he could feel his hands moving against his will, down to the zipper of his pants. Angel hissed when he cupped himself.
Don’t imagine it’s her... God, don’t do this to yourself...
The door in the lobby opened, and Angel jerked his hand away guiltily. He sat up straight, his back bone straining. Groo stood there, his face bruised and drawn. A boy no longer naive. Angel winced.
* * *
Miss Anita turned the song up on the radio, it was a deep sexy rhythm that gripped you in the gut and pulled on your loins.
She raised an arm, shifting it slowly in the air while swinging one hip around. The golden skirt sliding across her thighs, the chains on her stomach circling her. Before her stood a group of women, some human, some not, some neither human or not. All were beautiful in the exotic way, their faces painted vivid colors.
She taught them to dance, moving fluidly to the beat. Her back flexing as she bent from the waist, her hair hanging in velvet and beads down to her waist. The women clapped when the song ended, and she bestowed up them, a smile fit for a queen.
“When you dance, you must imitate the act of sexual pleasure.” She intoned in her smooth voice. “Your body must be aroused to the beat, stimulated by it. It must be the hottest thing you’ve ever felt.” Her hand flicked, and one of the men dressed in loin cloths put on another song. She moved slightly to the music. Just her hips. “One body part at a time, needs to be caught up in it, lost. Each part moving separately, but together. As one. The man you dance for, or the woman, is all you see.” Her limbs shimmered with iridescent powder, till she glowed in the soft candle light. Etheral. Cordelia slipped into the room silently, eyes focused on her. This was the woman who would know what had happened to her.
Anita gave no indication that she had seen her. Her dance was that of a leaf in the wind, her body at ease with the air, twisting and moving with it, not against it. “You love them.” She murmured, eyes closed. “And they’ll love you. For that moment, when you are the music.” And then she song was finished, and she kept her eyes closed, smiling. “Go now, practice.” They all dispersed, but Cordelia stood at the back wall that was covered in silver sheets made of silk. She hesitated, unsure whether or not to approach this strange woman.
“Cordelia.”Anita murmured, a wide smile on her face. She still hadn’t opened her eyes. “You finally figured it out.”
Cordy took a deep breath, stepping free from the shadows. Anita opened her eyes and met Cordelia’s.
“Did you think I wouldn’t?” Cordy shook her head, feeling uncomfortable in this room that taught others how to seduce. Anita seemed to know it, her smile growing wider.
“Oh I knew you would.” Anita shook her head, and small bells jingled from her ear lobs. “It was only a matter of time. Tell me, how did you find out I was the reason for your... shall we say, insight into others minds?”
Cordelia shrugged, stuffing her hands into her jean jacket pockets. The men in loin cloths stood near by, and Cordy was hard pressed not to take in the eye candy they made.
“I went home the other night, AFTER all the damn chaos that your little trick caused.” Anita ignored her pointed look, folding her hands together placidly. “And I lay down, wondering why it had all stopped so suddenly, and why it was only on and off that I could read their minds... why was that anyway?”
“I couldn’t make it easy for you, could I?” Anita raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow.
“Guess not.” Cordy shook her head. “Anyways, I went to set my alarm, because I wanted to start early on my plan to... well, seduce Angel. But my hand knocked that stupid blue bottle to the carpet. And when I looked down at it, I just knew it was because of that. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of it before, it was so logical, right in front of my face the entire time.”
“Ah, but you were too busy being swept off your feet to have thought of it.” Anita’s eyes glinted like a lioness peering from her den. “Which was the entire point.”
“But I don’t get it.” A small frown crinkled Cordelia’s brow. “Why did you do it? Why give me a potion that made me read minds, and not a potion that would protect me from losing the visions?”
Anita sighed, taking a seat on the large silver couch, encrusted in jewels. She patted the cushion next to her, and Cordelia walked over, sitting carefully on the edge. The woman beside her remained quiet for a while, as if listening to the room around her. “Well?”
“Patience is a virtue, my dear - you should learn it.” She raised her arm and snapped her fingers. “Get us some drinks, boys.” They left from the room one by one, knowing the call for privacy. Cordelia kept her eyes firmly averted from all the muscle moving by. Anita laughed. “Poor thing. So confused arn’t you? So lost.” She nodded, knew her. “You love him, but you still tremble at the thought of being with him.”
“Just tell me why you did it. The things I heard... they weren’t meant for me to know.”
“His need?” Anita asked, without expecting an answer. “His love for you. When you called me about the prophylactic potion - I could hear your sadness. You were so lonely I could feel it. That boy wasn’t who you really wanted, but you were willing to settle with what you could get, because you thought he saw you as something akin to a consolation prize.” Cordelia averted her darkened eyes, staring down at the glittering carpet. “I was still going to give you what you had asked for. What you had said you needed. But then they came in to retrieve it for you. I knew then, that it would have been a mistake to give you the potion you asked for. Angel, his eyes were miserable. He was the one that wanted you the most. The one that could live, but not well, without you.”
Cordelia’s misery reflected that of Angels so many days ago. “So I gave you the potion that I did, so that you would see what he held behind that stoic face. What you hadn’t bothered to see in those eyes.”
“And here we are.” Cordy whispered, hands curled around her stomach. Nerves. “What do I do now?” The men came back in the room for a moment, and handed each of the women a thin stemmed wine glass. Red wine. Anita appraised her over the rim over her glass.
“We teach you the art of seduction. You have a very stubborn man to fall.”
* * *
Angel faced Groo, hands hanging at his sides. Groo stayed in the door way, in his hand was a large duffel bag. His knuckles were white around it.
“I’m...”Angel sighed. He didn’t want to apologize. This boy had the woman he loved. That was apology enough.
“Don’t.” Groo stopped whatever he would have said with an upraised palm. The dull lights above them, made him look as sad as Angel had ever seen a man. “I don’t want your pity.”
“Pity?” Angel spit. “You don’t have my pity, you have my envy.” Groo was silent, his features unreadable.
Then, “How so?” Angel groaned, shoving his fingers through his hair.
“How could I not? You have her. She’s wearing your damn engagement ring. You can give her all the things that I never can.” He shifted into his demon form without realizing it, tears blurring the gold of his eyes. “She’s yours.”
Groo seemed shocked, then his face went tight, eyes closing for a moment in pain. Then he walked toward the grieving vampire, digging a hand through his pants pocket. Angel wouldn’t have been surprised if Groo withdrew a stake and drove it into his chest. But he didn’t. Instead he pulled out a velvet case. Angel stared down at it as if it would bite him.
“No.”Groo said, flipping the case open to reveal a ring. “She isn’t.”
Angel’s brows drew together.
“But...”
“She said no.” Groo muttered, and dropped the case at Angel’s feet. The well-oiled ring fell out and rolled across the floor. It finally stopped beneath the couch. Angel who had been following it with his eyes, looked back at Groo. But the man was turned the other way, walking slowly to the door, the bag slung over his back.
“You’re a good man.” Angel called after him, his heart heavy with guilt and other things perilously close to joy. Groo stopped in his tracks, gazing hard at the windowed doors in front of him. His jaw clenched, and his heart beat hard.
“Not good enough.” He whispered, but of course, Angel heard. “Just not good enough.”
And he was out the door, leaving Angel with the uncomfortable sensation, that though he hadn’t scarred his body, his heart was forever changed.
* * *
“I know how to dance.” Cordelia growled, moving to the music while Anita circled her, studying.
“Yes, you do.” Anita granted a small smile before it disappeared into her concentration. “But you’re learning how to seduce.”
“It’s not as though I’ve never had sex before. And I’ve made plenty of men want before.”
“But this man already wants you. He craves you. You need to make him give in. Have you ever made love?”
Cordy opened her eyes, grimacing.
“ I just told you, I..”
“No. You’ve had sex. You’ve never made love before.”
Cordy closed her mouth, sighing.
“No. I haven’t.” Anita reached forward, bent her arm to where it suited her. “Ow.”
“This man is over 200 years old. His only weakness is you, and his son.” She frowned at her student. “You need to learn how to see his thoughts, without the help of the potion. You are ALL he wants. Just give yourself to him. If you dance like a robot, he’ll think you’re uncomfortable with him. He’ll think he’s not what you really want.
“But..”
“You do. Then show it. Make love with him. Through the music.”
Cordelia closed her eyes again, and obeyed.
* * *
Angel walked into the Hyperion, shoulders heavy. Immediately Fred scooped Connor out of his arms, cooing at him.
Cordelia had said nothing of Groo’s departure. Or of their encounters. Maybe she hadn’t been as turned upside down by them, as he had. Now she laughed with him, talked to him, acted like nothing had changed. And it had. He wasn’t sure if he could hold to his convictions that she was better off without him.
“You’re such a cute little baby, arn’t ya? Ooooou. Arn’t ya?” Fred giggled at Connor, then turned her eyes on the vampire. “Cordelia wants to talk to you, Angel.” She said seriously. Angels stomach turned over.
“About what?” Fred shrugged.
“She’s upstairs. I’ll watch Connor.” Angel nodded vaguely, already starting on the steps, even though his guts were in shambles. Behind his back, Fred smiled slowly. Gunn came out from behind the counter, where had had been watching.
“So, he’s finally going to get out of that funk now huh?”
Fred looked over at him.
“Oh yeah.”
* * *
Angel walked silently to his room, pushing the closed door open slowly. Off one wall candle light flickered, lapping at the edges. Angel’s brow drew down.
“Cordelia?” Then he pushed the door open further, and he saw one graceful arm and leg. His breath caught. A beat began playing in the radio, and Angel had the insane urge to turn and bolt, because he KNEW he wouldn’t leave this room with his control intact otherwise. That single arm curled up into the air, leg lifted to stand n the toe of it’s foot. Her nails were painted red, catching his eye as the arm spiraled. He pushed the door all the way open, to see her.
His breath caught hard, fell straight down to his stomach.
Her eyes were closed, painted gold with glitter. Lips a crimson that made him hungry for something that couldn’t be named. Her hair was beaded and curled, making her appear so soft it was unbearable. She wore only scarves. They left her belly and thighs bare to the candle light. The soft silk of the scarlet scarves moved across her, like they had a mind of her own.
She raised her arms in the air, still not looking at him. Cordelia moved with the music, like it was part of her. She breathed with it. Her breasts lifted high, her stomach contracting, hips rotating slowly. Her back now to him, the back of her thighs glowed, and just barely he could see through the scarves, to the supple flesh of her buttocks.
He didn’t realize that he’d grabbed onto the wall to support himself, or that his breath scraped harshly through the air. But she did, and a feminine smile worthy of Mona Lisa slid onto her face. The music throbbed like desire through the air, and grabbed them both by the throat. She spun, facing him, and her eyes opened.
Angel groaned and stumbled toward her. It was in her eyes. The lust, the need, the love, and it fell over him like water. Drowning. Because he saw there, how she saw him. And he was everything.
He gave in.
She danced away from him, light on her bare feet. Her hips imitated the act which they were both so eager to perform. She gently grasped his sleeve and pulled him toward the bed. He didn’t bother to resist. Angel all but fell onto the bed, when she gave him a gentle push with a hand on his chest. The hot fingers seared his skin straight through his shirt.
Cordelia continued her dance of seduction, standing over his thighs, reveling in the waves of desire he sent off, his eyes black and heavy. It was dusted across his lips like heavy make up. She felt it straight to her womb, when he hardened.
She danced her hips just above his, and swaying began to unbutton his silk shirt. He didn’t fight her, In fact, she had to bat his hands away when he came up to help her get his clothes off. Then his hands slid across her spin, up and into the scarf and it fell away as easily as that, feathering down between them, leaving her breasts bare and aching.
They both moaned as her nipples brushed against his naked chest. He shuddered beneath her, hips lifting, big hands wrapping around her waist and pulling her down against him. Cordy’s head fell back, hair tickling her shoulders. His mouth fell upon her neck, tongue circling around and up, toward her ear.
Her whimper of desire over lapped with the music. One song shifted into the next as they moved together. His pants disappeared and soon he was naked, and laying back with his wrists bound by the scarves that had once hid her breasts and pelvis from him. She straddled him, naked and open. His mouth hung wide as she kissed down his chest, tongue darting out to tease his nipples. He was bucking like a stallion, his legs fighting with her own. The muscles of his abdomen contracted when she nibbled on them; her nails scraping up his thighs.
Heaven...
“Don’t be a tease,” he whispered to her, and her eyes turned up to him. She merely smiled, and continued her devastating journey south. Angel ached all over for her, his skin taut and itchy wherever she wasn’t touching it. He could feel the satin of her inner thighs rubbing against the rough hair on his legs.
Could feel the way she rubbed her thighs against him to heighten the contact. Heighten the tension.
His groan shook the walls and made the CD skip when she took him the head of his erection between her lips. Angel knew that he could break free of his bindings at any time, but he wanted to give her this. Wanted to let her take him over, as she always had but never noticed.
Her lips dragged against the skin of his cock as she took him fully into her mouth, and he lifted his legs, knees raising, trying to encourage her with his body, because he voice didn’t work. It made creaking sounds like a rusty door, and he could do nothing but toss his head when she teased him mercilessly with her tongue.
So hot...
And then she was lifting away from him, even as he growled in denial. Cordelia rose above him, feeling so beautiful it hurt her heart. His lips were hanging open, panting breaths rocking her where she sat on her stomach, the wet heat of her core searing him. Leaning down, she took advantage, pressing her lips to fit over his. Sliding her tongue inside, sliding it over his teeth, and to where his urged hers to meet him.
The music stopped. Her eyes met his as she leaned back, took him in her hand. Lifted herself up and opened herself to his shaft. His head fell back against the pill, back arching off the bed; feet banging against the mattress - when she slid all the way down, slowly, so fucking slowly he was going out of his mind.
The candle light flickered over her breasts, and he had to touch her. The scarves tore like paper, and then his hands were on her, sending her spinning out of the atmosphere. One hand between them, flicking against her clit, the other gripping her the hollow of her back, showing her the rhythm he desired. Slow and hard. His fangs extended, scraping gently across her collar bone. Sparks tingled from her labia to her toes. Her fingers tangled in his hair, her hips rolling as she rode him.
They were hunched together, his lips wrapped around her breasts, her nipplies.... lifting her arms and suckling on that magic place on her inner elbow. His tongue was cold and slid across her hot body, giving her relief.
He was fast approaching the edge, rough grunts falling into the air from his mouth. It might have embarrassed him, but he was too busy setting her body on fire with cock, hand and mouth. Rubbing his chest over her distended nipples. She smiled down into his eyes where he watched her like he’d finally gotten the one thing he’d always wanted. Her hips shuddered against his, and her lips fell slack as the orgasm racked her. Body rocking against Angel's, she cried out, tears slipping from her eye lids. His breath picked up in her ear, and she wrapped her arms hard around his neck, pressing her forehead down against his.
Their eyes stayed locked together, mouths barely brushing as their hips strummed together in their own symphony. And then he was gripping her so hard, she thought her ribs might crack. And his hips were slamming up against her, his head falling to the crook of her neck where he bellowed something about witchcraft. And possibly love.
She closed her eyes, floating there with him, in that blissful place where their bodies were joined.
His chest billowed against hers, sweat sliding between them. Angel’s lips were smeared with her lip stick, his face a mask of hazy pleasure that made her want to continue riding him even as he came inside her, softening.
When the hurricane of pleasure had passed, and their skin still tingled from it, Angel leaned back, falling back onto the bed, pulling her with him. His hands gripped her hips firmly, keeping them joined. And slowly, her rotated his hips, smiling up at her. His penis hardened inside her, causing her walls to contract like a ring around his engorged flesh.
Their eyes met as she lifted her hips again, shuddering as she took him back in.
They didn’t speak a word. But they didn’t need to. The truth was sheltered between them.
Love.
* * *
Miss Anita stood at the wall of her bed chamber. It was covered in photos of people she had paired. There were hundreds of happy couples. She stared with satisfaction at the two snapshots she had just pinned up together. One of a brooding man, with sorrow in his eyes. The other of a lost woman, staring off toward something unseen. Below the photos utt read: Cordelia and Angel, 2002. A wistful sigh came from her throat before she could escape it.
That was a successful match. One of her best.
But there was one photo that had always remained unpaired. Her own. It stood out on the wall. Alone. And it made her chest ache for all that she gave everyone else. But she knew who he would be now.
“Miss Anita?” A soft, stilted voice asked from her door way. She closed her eyes and grinned, her heart beating hard. Then she took a deep breath and composed herself. Turned. Groo stood uncomfortably in the door way, his lips thin and tight, arms crossed.
“Yes? How may I help you?”
He licked his lips, taking a step forward. “I... I would like some help, finding my true love. I’ve heard you specialize in not only prophylactics but matchmaking as well.”
Anita raised an eyebrow.
“You’re Princess?” Groo tilted his head, a sad smile on his face.
“She is not my Princess. She belongs to her Champion.” Anita nodded.
“Why don’t you wait in the hallway for a moment. I think I have the perfect match for you.” Groos face lightened, and he gave a half bow before leaving the room. Anita’s eyes followed him, and snapping her fingers, a photograph appeared in her hand. It was of Groo.
Silently she tacked it up on the wall, next to her own sullen photograph.
Satisfied, she stepped back, admiring the pair.
Some people just fit together. Like puzzle pieces. And that was nothing but the truth.
End.