Feel This (1/1)
Title: Feel This
Pairing: Angel/Cordelia
Show: ANGEL
Category: Smut/Romance
Rating: NC - 17
Prompt: Chair. Immobility. Heat.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
A/N: This was written for the Valentine's Day Smut-a-thon at Stranger Things. The prompt was from samsom.
The blade of Angel’s sword connected with scales - thousands of them, shiny and solid as stone, coating the demon’s body. They were thick and silver, reflecting the stream of moonlight through the open manhole, as spectacularly as a fish would in water.
The noise it made - metal against metal - was deafening. Angel felt it vibrate through him upon contact, his face contorting in anger when the demon turned, undeterred.
He blocked a blow, then another, jumping back when a clawed hand grabbed for him. Somewhere unseen, Gunn’s axe made contact with the scales, a piercing echo galloping through the sewer tunnel.
Angel flinched, cursing his sensitive hearing and jumping back into the fray.
“Enough with the clanging!” Cordelia hissed from his right, one arm supporting Wesley who’d been flicked away by the demon and into a series of pipes. “Just stab the belly already!”
“Working on it, Cor.” Angel kicked the demon from behind, slipping around the back and closer to Gunn. “Cover me.”
Gunn’s lips curled into a sneer. “With pleasure.”
He swung the axe expertly, striking the demon’s arm in a quick, deft movement. The demon snarled, swerved towards him and raised its arms heavenwards, braced to attack.
It never got the chance.
Angel slid smoothly across the floor, his coat beneath him, feet braking against the demon’s hind legs. Viciously, he tightened his grip on the hilt of the sword, shoving it upwards into the demon’s body. It slid through the underside smoothly, like a knife through hot butter.
The demon roared, a single, never-ending shriek that had them shielding their ears. It stumbled backwards, blood gushing from the wound as it started to die.
“Angel,” Wesley warned, “Watch out for the - ”
The demon’s throat convulsed, its body vibrated and a thick, putrid yellow liquid - its blood - sprayed from the gaping, enlarging wound, all over Angel as he shifted to get up. He grimaced, spat, wiping at his mouth.
“That is just wrong.” Gunn sounded disgusted as he grabbed a clean arm and hauled Angel to his feet. “You okay, man?”
“Yeah, fine.” Angel nodded, planting his feet. “Just - ”
His voice caught in his throat, sounding strange, raspy. His joints shuddered to a terrifying halt, his limbs suddenly weighing a million stone. Angel’s face contorted in pain, his muscles immobile, as stationary as a rock of earth. He was petrified, unable to move or speak.
Cordy’s face appeared in front of him, soft and concerned. He saw her hand on his arm but didn’t feel it. “Angel, what’s - ?”
She was interrupted by his frozen body, still as a statue, falling backwards to the floor.
He didn’t even feel the impact when the two collided.
---
It had been hours - though it felt like days - since the demon had bled onto him, leaving him paralyzed and rigid as a headstone.
Angel's eyes flickered, his body nestled neatly into the armchair in his suite, his arms resting on either side of him, legs stiff.
The darkness was comforting - his eyes did not have to adjust and the skin surrounding them was not forced to crinkle and flinch under lighting. It had been just about all he could move as Gunn had lowered him into his seated prison, positioning him so Cordelia could wipe the blood from his skin. He couldn’t feel her then, only watch her gentle ministrations, contract his still, quiet lungs and fill them with her vitality, breathe her in if only slightly, as breathtaking and vibrant as she was now.
Angel heard her heels clicking, muffled against the carpet. Peripheral vision kept him informed as a lamp glowed to life in the adjoining room.
Wesley had said the effects would wear off within 24 hours, not dissimilar to the concept of being under anaesthesia - he would come out of it slowly, the most sensitive parts of his skin awakening first. Angel thought he could already feel it happening, albeit at turtle’s pace - his toes twitching every few seconds, his fingertips wiggling with a strenuous, more than half-hearted attempt. The weighty feel of his most intimate flesh, his slack lower lip and the wetness in his tongue was returning. The numbness in his neck and abdomen was beginning to dissolve across tiny and selected surface areas, while a million barely-there, blunt pinpricks in his legs and hips indicated some presence of sensitivity, movement.
Still, he sat immobile, bound to the seat, feeling as old as the years he’d left behind him, hidden only by a youthful, false visage.
His heart lightened a little at the familiar face that appeared before him, Cordy having covered ground while he’d been lost in thought, now seated on the bed across from him. She smiled and as simply as that, brightness flooded the dark room, warmth following a close second, though Angel’s unfeeling body could only catch the barest brush of it.
As for the light, he didn’t much feel like squinting.
"Hey," Cordelia murmured, leaning forward. "How are you doing?"
Angel licked his lips, surprised that he was able to, his dry mouth welcoming the moisture. "Better," He managed, his voice croaking as a result of not having spoken in hours. It hurt, he realized, finding it increasingly difficult to command his body to listen when it wouldn't follow orders.
"Good. I was worried about you." Cordy admitted, her voice suddenly small. Angel's eyes flickered to her, noticed the tension in her shoulders and the worry lines in her forehead. “I’m just…I’m glad you’re gonna be okay.”
His ears were fine and he heard the hitch, heard her voice quiver and her throat swallow. She was scared for him.
He was stronger than most and so his body gave in after another unsuccessful attempt to speak, the muscles of his throat contracting to emit a single word.
"Cordy..."
When he reached for her, when his useless limb would have dropped impotently, she grabbed his hand, intertwining their fingers and squeezing.
"I know." She said, without him having to say a word. "I know."
Angel sighed heavily, winced a little and she glanced up at him, a frown marring her pretty face.
"What is it?"
"Nothing." He got out, hating the weakness and hating the lie.
"Angel," Cordelia shifted in her seat, her fingers tightening around his as she stared at him imploringly. "You can tell me. You can tell me anything."
He tapped the back of her palm with his index finger, amazed as it curled and lifted, just barely brushing her skin. He swallowed, wet his throat and confessed. "I can barely feel you.” His voice was hoarse, hardly recognizable, coloured by infection and emotion. “I can barely feel anything."
The air stretched thin with silence, her breathing quiet as she stared at him in contemplation. He expected her to console him, to brightly smile and say that it would all change soon, that he would recover and be back to normal in no time. Yet, she remained silent, watchful and unreadable.
It caught him off guard when she lifted their intertwined fingers, flattened his palm and cradled her cheek against it, smoothing herself against the rough of his hand. Hampered by near numbness, Angel imagined the softness of her skin, a flawless canvas of bronze that stretched across elevated cheekbones, soothing him in a way that words could not.
Then, without warning, Cordelia turned her face to the side, brushing her lips against his finger. It didn’t matter that it was gentle, a skim of her breath against him - he felt the tingle, a seemingly foreign sensation given his state, shoot from his finger and up his arm, tickling the roots of his hair.
Cordelia’s eyes clouded in an instant, her breathing shallow. “Can you feel this?’
She ran her tongue over her bottom lip, rosy and tempting, flicking it against the tip of his finger. Slowly, she licked it, base to tip, circling it leisurely until his knuckle was wrapped up, warm, liquid heat warming his unfeeling body from finger, to head, to toe.
Cordelia guided his finger over her lips, rolled it along the line of her jaw and the slender, humming column of her neck. She stopped at the hollow of her throat, that magnificent place between a woman’s collarbones, painting the skin wet and giving it shimmer in the dim light.
His gut tightened with hunger and Angel found himself licking his lips, disappointed when he tasted only his own mouth.
Cordy moved off the bed and stood before him, a silhouette highlighted by the bedside light behind her. His eyes were those of a vampire, as capable in night as in day, following every curve of her body, every sharp angle that softened around the edges.
When she slid her blouse over her head, he sucked in a breath, enticed and fascinated by the glow of her skin, all golden light and black lace. Cordelia trailed her fingers down her throat again, skimming the space between the valley of her breasts, and Angel stared open-mouthed, his jaw slack, his body wanting.
Their hands entangled again and she moved closer, wetting his fingers with her tongue. With one hand, she unfastened the strap of her bra, letting it fall loosely beneath the curve of each breast.
“Can you feel this, Angel?” Cordy murmured, sliding his rigid fingers across the tops of her breasts, teaching them to follow the downward curve until he brushed a nipple. She moaned and he moaned with her, aching and suddenly hard as a rock, his body responding with astonishing speed, as quickly to her as it had refused to respond to him.
His fingers touched her stomach, circled her belly button and the zip of her skirt. She helped him pull it down, didn’t take her eyes off him as it pooled around her ankles, revealing her black panties.
One slender leg lifted, tanned and long, so, so long. She positioned herself over him, legs flanking his on either side. He thought he could no longer bear it, his body desperate for contact as a plea escaped him.
“Cordy…”
She was a goddess, nude and breathtaking before him, glorious and untouchable - until she chose to touch you. Slowly, so slowly, she lowered herself into his lap, folding her legs beneath her with the effortless grace of an athlete, slender and powerful. Her hips lowered, brushed his and his body jerked to life, surging forward.
Cordelia’s smile was coy, her forehead touching his, a sigh warming his face.
“Can you feel this?” He heard, a breathless whisper against his mouth before it was plundered, devoured beneath hers in an open-mouthed kiss. Emotion swirled madly inside him, his heart a soaring rocket, explosive and full. Her tongue stroked his, deep and steamy, the kiss all consuming.
She broke it off to breathe, chest heaving against his and causing his heart to stutter. Cordy’s lips touched his left eyelid, the slant of his cheekbone, the small dent that graced his chin. She moved in a slow waltz against him, hips undulating across strained, tented fabric, shimmying and teasing as a dancer, never allowing the weight to be full.
“Cordelia…” Angel groaned deeply and with some difficulty, his still body solid, soul desperate and shaking beneath frozen skin and muscle. His arms gave slightly when he tried to lift them, unsuccessful but improving.
“Hmm?” Cordy’s fingers undid the buttons of his shirt, spreading the fabric until it brushed his arms. She kept her eyes on him, always on him, sliding her tongue flatly up his abdomen until she reached his throat. She nipped him there, the smile of a seductress upon her face when his hips jerked, crashing against hers.
He was an immortal creature of darkness, powerful and indomitable - brought to his knees by her. She was his signal fire and a cure for the sickness, a mortal being that looked it in the eye and weakened it, strengthened *him* through beauty and spirit and valour.
She licked his adam’s apple, peppering his chest with kisses. When she found a spot she liked, she’d stop, suckle. Angel felt his skin itch with want, felt his zipper become unbearably tight. Cordelia flicked her tongue over a nipple, circled it until it hardened and then sucked it into her mouth.
He wanted to do the same to her, wanted to make her come apart at the seams.
The game was hers to play, the reigns hers to hold. She popped open the button of his jeans, sliding the zipper down slowly. Angel growled, wordlessly commanding her to increase the pace, put an end to his suffering. Cordy’s eyes lit up, the backs of her fingers skimming the bulge in his pants, her cheeks flooding with arousal.
The smell of it hit the air and he hardened further, wanting to fuck her brains out.
She grabbed the waist of his jeans, jerking them down with his boxers until they hit his knees. Like a cat, she rubbed herself over him, satin sliding across roughness, silk against corded muscle, bone and rock. There was a half groan, half growl that bubbled up from his chest when she cupped him, her fingers tentative and teasing.
“I want you…” Cordelia admitted against his mouth, dipping her tongue inside. She grasped his fingers, guided them to the lace covering her most intimate flesh, and pressed their joined hands against it. “Can you feel that?”
It was molten hot, searing him, burning him brilliantly as pinpricks dotted his fingertips, seeking out the sense of touch, feel…Angel could smell it, thick and heady, how much she wanted him. It triggered something, primal and urgent, and he found the strength to curve his fingers, slide the material aside and plunge them into her.
Cordy flung her head back, gasping, the earth pausing for one desperate moment. When she opened her eyes, they were black, full of want. His fingers began to move inside her, going in slick and slow, her hips shaking, rocking against his hand. She clutched his shoulders, rode his fingers and used her own to touch him, rub him closer to oblivion.
Her nails scraped the base of his cock and he fought for control, nearly lost it and chose to make her do so instead. Angel circled her clit with his thumb, rubbing it insistently beneath the rough pad of skin. Cordy’s movement became erratic, her hips jolting, riding. He felt her muscles contract, heard her sharp intake of breath.
When she came, he felt it, all of it, felt it coat his fingers and warm him, felt the shudder up his spine when she kissed him, heated him from the inside out. He wanted to tell her, tell her so many things but her tongue was in his mouth, making him crazy, his erection now pushing against bare skin, his fingers still inside her.
Cordy pulled them out, intertwined their fingers and wrapped them around him, wet and warm, making him touch himself. Angel’s eyes crossed, his mouth opening, body shuddering with need. His eyes flashed - desire, dominance and submissiveness all at once.
“I want you.” He repeated her earlier words to her, the hint of a growl in his voice, a silent order.
She was a rebel and a woman - his - but her own need forced her to listen. She raised herself onto her knees, pushed her panties down until she could lift her legs and slip them off, dropping them to the ground. Angel watched her every moment, hungry and ravenous as a wolf, awaiting his thirst to be quenched, his hunger to be sated.
Slowly, torturously, she lowered herself, allowing just the tip of him to slide inside her. Cordelia bit her lip and Angel moaned at the sight, watched mesmerized as she ascended again, leaving him wet and silver.
“Feel this…” She whispered breathily, her hands reaching for his, guiding them to the small of her back as her own slid up his chest and to his shoulders.
Again, she lowered herself, taking just the head of him into her, her body shaking with thinly veiled control. Angel had none.
He bucked, taking all his strength and impaling her, crying out when she did, suddenly scorched and blissful. He was encased in heat, her glorious body above his, naked and radiant, head thrown back in ardour. Cordelia tightened her hold on his shoulders, pushing away till her hips elevated, sliding up him. When she reached the top, she released a breath, taking her time in descent, slowly coming back down.
When their pelvises connected, she arched her back, taking him deeper, much deeper. Her breath caught when he experimentally flexed his palms, his fingers, tightening his hold on her waist. Angel skimmed her buttocks, cupped them, amazed at the feel and he pushed her towards him, made her take him deeper. It made his arms ache a little, a flinch marring his face fleetingly.
Cordelia bit his lower lip, took it beneath her teeth and suckled, making him forget the co-existing numbness and the pain, the discomfort of fighting it. Her hands slid through his hair, drawing him closer, further into the kiss, eating him with her lips and teeth and tongue.
Against him, she murmured, “You just let me do all the work…”
The rhythm she set was slow - hard and deep and smooth as velvet. Her hips flicked and rocked against his, body curving and straightening as she danced atop him, riding him into black, breathtaking pleasure. He went in deeper, harder, felt the pressure building beneath his skin, heart cartwheeling at the sight of her above him - unbearably beautiful and shimmering with sweat.
He found he could no longer sit still, could no longer look but not touch, his fingers aching to hold her, touch her face, her breasts, her stomach. It took some effort but he began to rock into her, in time with her slow undulation, the numbness in his lower back finding feeling.
Cordelia raked her hands through her hair, dropping them to her throat, her breasts, as though reading his mind. He watched as she touched herself, faintly brushed the swollen bud of her nipple, the flat plane of her abdomen.
“I want…” Angel croaked, reaching for her, ignoring the soreness in his arms, his shoulders. Cordelia caught his hands and aided him, pulling him forward, his back no longer touching the chair, his arms around her. She wrapped her own around his shoulders, supporting him as he pressed his lips to her breast, bit bluntly at the plump flesh and set fireworks ablaze behind her eyelids.
Her hips never stopped moving, slow and steady, his cock as deep inside now as the love he felt for her, for this amazing, majestic creature that he’d never deserve but couldn’t live without. Cordy sighed when he bathed her nipple with his tongue, dragging it up to her throat and suckling.
He’d leave a mark for the world to see.
“Angel…” She cried out, her breath catching in her throat, her muscles tightening, contracting. Her hips jerked, movements quickening, driving her into him harder. She raked her nails down his spine, and his cock twitched inside her, the feeling returning to his back and shoulders, his toes curling with it.
His arms tightened around her lower back, fingers brushing her sides. Cordelia pressed kisses to his neck, found the place where his blood might have flown and licked it, nipped it with her teeth. When his cock twitched again, she bit down, scraping her fingernails against his back and riding his thighs frantically, desperate for her own release.
Angel came before her, roaring her name through gritted teeth as his heart burst apart at the seams, sensitivity flooding his veins and returning to his body. Everywhere she touched him was warm and spectacular - he felt it - his body a furnace, a sanctuary. The fingers at her waist slipped between them, pressing that smouldering place where they joined.
Cordelia groaned, the slip-slide against him ceasing, her body frozen in a moment of blissful limbo. He grazed her clit, wrapped his lips around her nipple and suckled hard. Her nails bit into him so he did it again, eyes closing in pleasure when she writhed, shuddered and came against him, her eyes starry and near opaque. His name was a mantra on her lips, a never-ending whisper, repeated over and over as though she couldn’t get enough, as though he was a part of her.
His body, now sore, so wonderfully sore and feeling from their lovemaking, could tell he was. They were still joined, still one, her breathing heavy, skin hot and flushed against his. Amidst the haze of it all, he acknowledged her brilliance - she was his saviour, his beacon, his everything, to have and to hold, to love and to worship.
There was silence, stillness, until Cordelia’s hands found his and Angel felt her vibrant pulse, pounding through the blood beneath her fingertips.
“Can you feel this?” She asked softly, dragging his hand to her chest and pressing his palm flat against her skin. “You make my heart race.”
Angel’s eyes locked with hers, desperate, unfathomable love coiling tightly inside him and refusing to let go. His fingers gripped hers, pulling her hands to his own chest.
“Can you feel this?” He asked, repeating her words, voice stronger and surer now, restored to health. He shifted their intertwined fingers, placed them directly over the silent space that tonight was unusually full.
“No.” Cordy answered honestly, caressing his skin, aware of the place trapped beneath her hands and his. “It’s your heart.”
“It belongs to *you*.” His lips quirked when she blinked, sucked in a breath. “It doesn’t beat.” Unable to help himself, Angel mustered all his strength, pulling her close and kissing her long and soft. “It doesn’t race.” He kissed her again, wet and open, enthralled and enamoured. “But Cordelia?”
Their eyes met and against her lips, Angel whispered his vow, his surrender. “It’s full of you.”
END.
Pairing: Angel/Cordelia
Show: ANGEL
Category: Smut/Romance
Rating: NC - 17
Prompt: Chair. Immobility. Heat.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
A/N: This was written for the Valentine's Day Smut-a-thon at Stranger Things. The prompt was from samsom.
The blade of Angel’s sword connected with scales - thousands of them, shiny and solid as stone, coating the demon’s body. They were thick and silver, reflecting the stream of moonlight through the open manhole, as spectacularly as a fish would in water.
The noise it made - metal against metal - was deafening. Angel felt it vibrate through him upon contact, his face contorting in anger when the demon turned, undeterred.
He blocked a blow, then another, jumping back when a clawed hand grabbed for him. Somewhere unseen, Gunn’s axe made contact with the scales, a piercing echo galloping through the sewer tunnel.
Angel flinched, cursing his sensitive hearing and jumping back into the fray.
“Enough with the clanging!” Cordelia hissed from his right, one arm supporting Wesley who’d been flicked away by the demon and into a series of pipes. “Just stab the belly already!”
“Working on it, Cor.” Angel kicked the demon from behind, slipping around the back and closer to Gunn. “Cover me.”
Gunn’s lips curled into a sneer. “With pleasure.”
He swung the axe expertly, striking the demon’s arm in a quick, deft movement. The demon snarled, swerved towards him and raised its arms heavenwards, braced to attack.
It never got the chance.
Angel slid smoothly across the floor, his coat beneath him, feet braking against the demon’s hind legs. Viciously, he tightened his grip on the hilt of the sword, shoving it upwards into the demon’s body. It slid through the underside smoothly, like a knife through hot butter.
The demon roared, a single, never-ending shriek that had them shielding their ears. It stumbled backwards, blood gushing from the wound as it started to die.
“Angel,” Wesley warned, “Watch out for the - ”
The demon’s throat convulsed, its body vibrated and a thick, putrid yellow liquid - its blood - sprayed from the gaping, enlarging wound, all over Angel as he shifted to get up. He grimaced, spat, wiping at his mouth.
“That is just wrong.” Gunn sounded disgusted as he grabbed a clean arm and hauled Angel to his feet. “You okay, man?”
“Yeah, fine.” Angel nodded, planting his feet. “Just - ”
His voice caught in his throat, sounding strange, raspy. His joints shuddered to a terrifying halt, his limbs suddenly weighing a million stone. Angel’s face contorted in pain, his muscles immobile, as stationary as a rock of earth. He was petrified, unable to move or speak.
Cordy’s face appeared in front of him, soft and concerned. He saw her hand on his arm but didn’t feel it. “Angel, what’s - ?”
She was interrupted by his frozen body, still as a statue, falling backwards to the floor.
He didn’t even feel the impact when the two collided.
---
It had been hours - though it felt like days - since the demon had bled onto him, leaving him paralyzed and rigid as a headstone.
Angel's eyes flickered, his body nestled neatly into the armchair in his suite, his arms resting on either side of him, legs stiff.
The darkness was comforting - his eyes did not have to adjust and the skin surrounding them was not forced to crinkle and flinch under lighting. It had been just about all he could move as Gunn had lowered him into his seated prison, positioning him so Cordelia could wipe the blood from his skin. He couldn’t feel her then, only watch her gentle ministrations, contract his still, quiet lungs and fill them with her vitality, breathe her in if only slightly, as breathtaking and vibrant as she was now.
Angel heard her heels clicking, muffled against the carpet. Peripheral vision kept him informed as a lamp glowed to life in the adjoining room.
Wesley had said the effects would wear off within 24 hours, not dissimilar to the concept of being under anaesthesia - he would come out of it slowly, the most sensitive parts of his skin awakening first. Angel thought he could already feel it happening, albeit at turtle’s pace - his toes twitching every few seconds, his fingertips wiggling with a strenuous, more than half-hearted attempt. The weighty feel of his most intimate flesh, his slack lower lip and the wetness in his tongue was returning. The numbness in his neck and abdomen was beginning to dissolve across tiny and selected surface areas, while a million barely-there, blunt pinpricks in his legs and hips indicated some presence of sensitivity, movement.
Still, he sat immobile, bound to the seat, feeling as old as the years he’d left behind him, hidden only by a youthful, false visage.
His heart lightened a little at the familiar face that appeared before him, Cordy having covered ground while he’d been lost in thought, now seated on the bed across from him. She smiled and as simply as that, brightness flooded the dark room, warmth following a close second, though Angel’s unfeeling body could only catch the barest brush of it.
As for the light, he didn’t much feel like squinting.
"Hey," Cordelia murmured, leaning forward. "How are you doing?"
Angel licked his lips, surprised that he was able to, his dry mouth welcoming the moisture. "Better," He managed, his voice croaking as a result of not having spoken in hours. It hurt, he realized, finding it increasingly difficult to command his body to listen when it wouldn't follow orders.
"Good. I was worried about you." Cordy admitted, her voice suddenly small. Angel's eyes flickered to her, noticed the tension in her shoulders and the worry lines in her forehead. “I’m just…I’m glad you’re gonna be okay.”
His ears were fine and he heard the hitch, heard her voice quiver and her throat swallow. She was scared for him.
He was stronger than most and so his body gave in after another unsuccessful attempt to speak, the muscles of his throat contracting to emit a single word.
"Cordy..."
When he reached for her, when his useless limb would have dropped impotently, she grabbed his hand, intertwining their fingers and squeezing.
"I know." She said, without him having to say a word. "I know."
Angel sighed heavily, winced a little and she glanced up at him, a frown marring her pretty face.
"What is it?"
"Nothing." He got out, hating the weakness and hating the lie.
"Angel," Cordelia shifted in her seat, her fingers tightening around his as she stared at him imploringly. "You can tell me. You can tell me anything."
He tapped the back of her palm with his index finger, amazed as it curled and lifted, just barely brushing her skin. He swallowed, wet his throat and confessed. "I can barely feel you.” His voice was hoarse, hardly recognizable, coloured by infection and emotion. “I can barely feel anything."
The air stretched thin with silence, her breathing quiet as she stared at him in contemplation. He expected her to console him, to brightly smile and say that it would all change soon, that he would recover and be back to normal in no time. Yet, she remained silent, watchful and unreadable.
It caught him off guard when she lifted their intertwined fingers, flattened his palm and cradled her cheek against it, smoothing herself against the rough of his hand. Hampered by near numbness, Angel imagined the softness of her skin, a flawless canvas of bronze that stretched across elevated cheekbones, soothing him in a way that words could not.
Then, without warning, Cordelia turned her face to the side, brushing her lips against his finger. It didn’t matter that it was gentle, a skim of her breath against him - he felt the tingle, a seemingly foreign sensation given his state, shoot from his finger and up his arm, tickling the roots of his hair.
Cordelia’s eyes clouded in an instant, her breathing shallow. “Can you feel this?’
She ran her tongue over her bottom lip, rosy and tempting, flicking it against the tip of his finger. Slowly, she licked it, base to tip, circling it leisurely until his knuckle was wrapped up, warm, liquid heat warming his unfeeling body from finger, to head, to toe.
Cordelia guided his finger over her lips, rolled it along the line of her jaw and the slender, humming column of her neck. She stopped at the hollow of her throat, that magnificent place between a woman’s collarbones, painting the skin wet and giving it shimmer in the dim light.
His gut tightened with hunger and Angel found himself licking his lips, disappointed when he tasted only his own mouth.
Cordy moved off the bed and stood before him, a silhouette highlighted by the bedside light behind her. His eyes were those of a vampire, as capable in night as in day, following every curve of her body, every sharp angle that softened around the edges.
When she slid her blouse over her head, he sucked in a breath, enticed and fascinated by the glow of her skin, all golden light and black lace. Cordelia trailed her fingers down her throat again, skimming the space between the valley of her breasts, and Angel stared open-mouthed, his jaw slack, his body wanting.
Their hands entangled again and she moved closer, wetting his fingers with her tongue. With one hand, she unfastened the strap of her bra, letting it fall loosely beneath the curve of each breast.
“Can you feel this, Angel?” Cordy murmured, sliding his rigid fingers across the tops of her breasts, teaching them to follow the downward curve until he brushed a nipple. She moaned and he moaned with her, aching and suddenly hard as a rock, his body responding with astonishing speed, as quickly to her as it had refused to respond to him.
His fingers touched her stomach, circled her belly button and the zip of her skirt. She helped him pull it down, didn’t take her eyes off him as it pooled around her ankles, revealing her black panties.
One slender leg lifted, tanned and long, so, so long. She positioned herself over him, legs flanking his on either side. He thought he could no longer bear it, his body desperate for contact as a plea escaped him.
“Cordy…”
She was a goddess, nude and breathtaking before him, glorious and untouchable - until she chose to touch you. Slowly, so slowly, she lowered herself into his lap, folding her legs beneath her with the effortless grace of an athlete, slender and powerful. Her hips lowered, brushed his and his body jerked to life, surging forward.
Cordelia’s smile was coy, her forehead touching his, a sigh warming his face.
“Can you feel this?” He heard, a breathless whisper against his mouth before it was plundered, devoured beneath hers in an open-mouthed kiss. Emotion swirled madly inside him, his heart a soaring rocket, explosive and full. Her tongue stroked his, deep and steamy, the kiss all consuming.
She broke it off to breathe, chest heaving against his and causing his heart to stutter. Cordy’s lips touched his left eyelid, the slant of his cheekbone, the small dent that graced his chin. She moved in a slow waltz against him, hips undulating across strained, tented fabric, shimmying and teasing as a dancer, never allowing the weight to be full.
“Cordelia…” Angel groaned deeply and with some difficulty, his still body solid, soul desperate and shaking beneath frozen skin and muscle. His arms gave slightly when he tried to lift them, unsuccessful but improving.
“Hmm?” Cordy’s fingers undid the buttons of his shirt, spreading the fabric until it brushed his arms. She kept her eyes on him, always on him, sliding her tongue flatly up his abdomen until she reached his throat. She nipped him there, the smile of a seductress upon her face when his hips jerked, crashing against hers.
He was an immortal creature of darkness, powerful and indomitable - brought to his knees by her. She was his signal fire and a cure for the sickness, a mortal being that looked it in the eye and weakened it, strengthened *him* through beauty and spirit and valour.
She licked his adam’s apple, peppering his chest with kisses. When she found a spot she liked, she’d stop, suckle. Angel felt his skin itch with want, felt his zipper become unbearably tight. Cordelia flicked her tongue over a nipple, circled it until it hardened and then sucked it into her mouth.
He wanted to do the same to her, wanted to make her come apart at the seams.
The game was hers to play, the reigns hers to hold. She popped open the button of his jeans, sliding the zipper down slowly. Angel growled, wordlessly commanding her to increase the pace, put an end to his suffering. Cordy’s eyes lit up, the backs of her fingers skimming the bulge in his pants, her cheeks flooding with arousal.
The smell of it hit the air and he hardened further, wanting to fuck her brains out.
She grabbed the waist of his jeans, jerking them down with his boxers until they hit his knees. Like a cat, she rubbed herself over him, satin sliding across roughness, silk against corded muscle, bone and rock. There was a half groan, half growl that bubbled up from his chest when she cupped him, her fingers tentative and teasing.
“I want you…” Cordelia admitted against his mouth, dipping her tongue inside. She grasped his fingers, guided them to the lace covering her most intimate flesh, and pressed their joined hands against it. “Can you feel that?”
It was molten hot, searing him, burning him brilliantly as pinpricks dotted his fingertips, seeking out the sense of touch, feel…Angel could smell it, thick and heady, how much she wanted him. It triggered something, primal and urgent, and he found the strength to curve his fingers, slide the material aside and plunge them into her.
Cordy flung her head back, gasping, the earth pausing for one desperate moment. When she opened her eyes, they were black, full of want. His fingers began to move inside her, going in slick and slow, her hips shaking, rocking against his hand. She clutched his shoulders, rode his fingers and used her own to touch him, rub him closer to oblivion.
Her nails scraped the base of his cock and he fought for control, nearly lost it and chose to make her do so instead. Angel circled her clit with his thumb, rubbing it insistently beneath the rough pad of skin. Cordy’s movement became erratic, her hips jolting, riding. He felt her muscles contract, heard her sharp intake of breath.
When she came, he felt it, all of it, felt it coat his fingers and warm him, felt the shudder up his spine when she kissed him, heated him from the inside out. He wanted to tell her, tell her so many things but her tongue was in his mouth, making him crazy, his erection now pushing against bare skin, his fingers still inside her.
Cordy pulled them out, intertwined their fingers and wrapped them around him, wet and warm, making him touch himself. Angel’s eyes crossed, his mouth opening, body shuddering with need. His eyes flashed - desire, dominance and submissiveness all at once.
“I want you.” He repeated her earlier words to her, the hint of a growl in his voice, a silent order.
She was a rebel and a woman - his - but her own need forced her to listen. She raised herself onto her knees, pushed her panties down until she could lift her legs and slip them off, dropping them to the ground. Angel watched her every moment, hungry and ravenous as a wolf, awaiting his thirst to be quenched, his hunger to be sated.
Slowly, torturously, she lowered herself, allowing just the tip of him to slide inside her. Cordelia bit her lip and Angel moaned at the sight, watched mesmerized as she ascended again, leaving him wet and silver.
“Feel this…” She whispered breathily, her hands reaching for his, guiding them to the small of her back as her own slid up his chest and to his shoulders.
Again, she lowered herself, taking just the head of him into her, her body shaking with thinly veiled control. Angel had none.
He bucked, taking all his strength and impaling her, crying out when she did, suddenly scorched and blissful. He was encased in heat, her glorious body above his, naked and radiant, head thrown back in ardour. Cordelia tightened her hold on his shoulders, pushing away till her hips elevated, sliding up him. When she reached the top, she released a breath, taking her time in descent, slowly coming back down.
When their pelvises connected, she arched her back, taking him deeper, much deeper. Her breath caught when he experimentally flexed his palms, his fingers, tightening his hold on her waist. Angel skimmed her buttocks, cupped them, amazed at the feel and he pushed her towards him, made her take him deeper. It made his arms ache a little, a flinch marring his face fleetingly.
Cordelia bit his lower lip, took it beneath her teeth and suckled, making him forget the co-existing numbness and the pain, the discomfort of fighting it. Her hands slid through his hair, drawing him closer, further into the kiss, eating him with her lips and teeth and tongue.
Against him, she murmured, “You just let me do all the work…”
The rhythm she set was slow - hard and deep and smooth as velvet. Her hips flicked and rocked against his, body curving and straightening as she danced atop him, riding him into black, breathtaking pleasure. He went in deeper, harder, felt the pressure building beneath his skin, heart cartwheeling at the sight of her above him - unbearably beautiful and shimmering with sweat.
He found he could no longer sit still, could no longer look but not touch, his fingers aching to hold her, touch her face, her breasts, her stomach. It took some effort but he began to rock into her, in time with her slow undulation, the numbness in his lower back finding feeling.
Cordelia raked her hands through her hair, dropping them to her throat, her breasts, as though reading his mind. He watched as she touched herself, faintly brushed the swollen bud of her nipple, the flat plane of her abdomen.
“I want…” Angel croaked, reaching for her, ignoring the soreness in his arms, his shoulders. Cordelia caught his hands and aided him, pulling him forward, his back no longer touching the chair, his arms around her. She wrapped her own around his shoulders, supporting him as he pressed his lips to her breast, bit bluntly at the plump flesh and set fireworks ablaze behind her eyelids.
Her hips never stopped moving, slow and steady, his cock as deep inside now as the love he felt for her, for this amazing, majestic creature that he’d never deserve but couldn’t live without. Cordy sighed when he bathed her nipple with his tongue, dragging it up to her throat and suckling.
He’d leave a mark for the world to see.
“Angel…” She cried out, her breath catching in her throat, her muscles tightening, contracting. Her hips jerked, movements quickening, driving her into him harder. She raked her nails down his spine, and his cock twitched inside her, the feeling returning to his back and shoulders, his toes curling with it.
His arms tightened around her lower back, fingers brushing her sides. Cordelia pressed kisses to his neck, found the place where his blood might have flown and licked it, nipped it with her teeth. When his cock twitched again, she bit down, scraping her fingernails against his back and riding his thighs frantically, desperate for her own release.
Angel came before her, roaring her name through gritted teeth as his heart burst apart at the seams, sensitivity flooding his veins and returning to his body. Everywhere she touched him was warm and spectacular - he felt it - his body a furnace, a sanctuary. The fingers at her waist slipped between them, pressing that smouldering place where they joined.
Cordelia groaned, the slip-slide against him ceasing, her body frozen in a moment of blissful limbo. He grazed her clit, wrapped his lips around her nipple and suckled hard. Her nails bit into him so he did it again, eyes closing in pleasure when she writhed, shuddered and came against him, her eyes starry and near opaque. His name was a mantra on her lips, a never-ending whisper, repeated over and over as though she couldn’t get enough, as though he was a part of her.
His body, now sore, so wonderfully sore and feeling from their lovemaking, could tell he was. They were still joined, still one, her breathing heavy, skin hot and flushed against his. Amidst the haze of it all, he acknowledged her brilliance - she was his saviour, his beacon, his everything, to have and to hold, to love and to worship.
There was silence, stillness, until Cordelia’s hands found his and Angel felt her vibrant pulse, pounding through the blood beneath her fingertips.
“Can you feel this?” She asked softly, dragging his hand to her chest and pressing his palm flat against her skin. “You make my heart race.”
Angel’s eyes locked with hers, desperate, unfathomable love coiling tightly inside him and refusing to let go. His fingers gripped hers, pulling her hands to his own chest.
“Can you feel this?” He asked, repeating her words, voice stronger and surer now, restored to health. He shifted their intertwined fingers, placed them directly over the silent space that tonight was unusually full.
“No.” Cordy answered honestly, caressing his skin, aware of the place trapped beneath her hands and his. “It’s your heart.”
“It belongs to *you*.” His lips quirked when she blinked, sucked in a breath. “It doesn’t beat.” Unable to help himself, Angel mustered all his strength, pulling her close and kissing her long and soft. “It doesn’t race.” He kissed her again, wet and open, enthralled and enamoured. “But Cordelia?”
Their eyes met and against her lips, Angel whispered his vow, his surrender. “It’s full of you.”
END.