Reprise inspired ficlet
Which kind of functions as a 'prequel' to the fic I plan on reposting for Epiphany later on. I don't know, I felt like writing and it kind of just popped in my head. SOOO unbeta'd.
Angel's thoughts during his bedroom scene with Darla.
Title: Can't Go Back Again
Author: Samsom
Rating: R
Characters: Angel and Darla, but it ain't shippy in the slightest.
~~
It’s like he’s watching from a corner of the room as he throws Darla out onto his balcony.
He feels a bone deep satisfaction when she crashes through his glass doors, stumbling and falling. He can’t do that with humans, they break so easily. But Darla doesn’t. She takes it with a wild seething look blossoming in her eyes.
He picks her up again, very casual, feeling the cold creep out along his limbs.
It’s funny. He’s cold all the time. But he’s never felt it before, not like tonight. Manners’ voice still drones on in his head, telling him exactly how useless his struggle has been, and he shoves Darla across his table and looms over her.
She used to give him such joy, to see the savage in his eyes reflected in hers. He wants that back, if only to stave off the empty cold. Their bodies would collide like their teeth, and he would forget.
Maybe he’d get some of that savage joy back.
He kisses her until he tastes blood on her tongue and then pulls her up again and across his bed, needing the rough dig of her nails in his back and her legs opening to let him in.
After all, if he can’t save the world, he might as well pitch the fire that burns it to ashes.
Angel's thoughts during his bedroom scene with Darla.
Title: Can't Go Back Again
Author: Samsom
Rating: R
Characters: Angel and Darla, but it ain't shippy in the slightest.
~~
It’s like he’s watching from a corner of the room as he throws Darla out onto his balcony.
He feels a bone deep satisfaction when she crashes through his glass doors, stumbling and falling. He can’t do that with humans, they break so easily. But Darla doesn’t. She takes it with a wild seething look blossoming in her eyes.
He picks her up again, very casual, feeling the cold creep out along his limbs.
It’s funny. He’s cold all the time. But he’s never felt it before, not like tonight. Manners’ voice still drones on in his head, telling him exactly how useless his struggle has been, and he shoves Darla across his table and looms over her.
She used to give him such joy, to see the savage in his eyes reflected in hers. He wants that back, if only to stave off the empty cold. Their bodies would collide like their teeth, and he would forget.
Maybe he’d get some of that savage joy back.
He kisses her until he tastes blood on her tongue and then pulls her up again and across his bed, needing the rough dig of her nails in his back and her legs opening to let him in.
After all, if he can’t save the world, he might as well pitch the fire that burns it to ashes.