FIC: Dangerous Type
I'm back! But only to post a fic I've been working on, because I've got 2 papers and exams coming up. Oh, the college life. I'll probably have to go back into my study hibernation, so I figured I'd post this just to prove I'm still alive.
Dangerous Type
R, Post-The Thin Dead Line, s2; Cordy/Angel
oh inside angel, always upset
keeps on forgetting that we ever met
can i bring you out in the light?
curiosity's got me tonight
-the cars
Of course, she thought. Of course. Gunn and Wesley were off with a client-- hopefully there would be money involved-- and Cordelia was sprawled on the floor in front of the desk, trying to hold in her guts because the vision hit her so hard she thought she might puke up everything inside her. The floor was cool against her cheek; she held onto the leg of the desk and focused on her breathing, slow and deep, soothing.
As she regained her strength, she began going over the vision in her mind, turning over each image like a card from the deck. Two vampires. A girl looking for a good time. An alley, covered with trash, its mouth opening next to the Chinese place on 17th. Rape, cutting, feeding--
Cordelia wretched into the trashcan next to the desk, eyes watering, her skin sticky with sweat. Once she was finished and her legs were strong enough to support her, she started tossing things into her bag: stakes, holy water, her favorite ax. She left a note for the guys pinned to the calendar on her desk, then headed out the door, trying not to think about the fact that she was going to face-down two vampires or she was going to die.
The cabbie dropped her off a block down from the restaurant. Cordelia picked her way down the sidewalk, dodging heavy-handed men and empty-eyed prostitutes, trying not to scuff her heels on the trash littering the curb. The Chinese place was open, its neon sign casting pale, vibrating shadows over the dimly-lit street. She took a moment to stare into the flourescence, then made her way around the building, into the alley.
The smell hit her face: cloying, suffocating, the heavy scent of rotting meat and spoiled vegetables. Luckily, she'd already puked, so she was able to walk past without gagging. Standing behind a dumpster, she waited, listening to the far-off beat of the club's music and voices, growing closer. Peeking around the corner, she spotted them: a young girl in black pumps, jeans, and a questionable silver halter top. The boys were behind her, laughing and jeering: one had shaggy hair and subtle freckles, while the other had beefier features that made her think of-- well, not Angel.
His name alone was enough to spike Cordelia's adrenaline. Shortly after, the first vampire grabbed the girl's wrist and pushed her toward the wall, smirking. The second followed after him, leaning toward her with his game-face on; the girl screamed, which Cordelia interpreted as her cue. The second one noticed her immediately, turning toward her with a toothy smile. "Hey, look," he said. "Now we don't have to share."
Cordelia saw the girl struggling against the wall like a hooked fish. Cordelia didn't think; she lunged forward instantly, pulling her stake, aiming it in a downward arch toward the vampire holding the girl. The stake was so close; she waited for the whoosh, but instead, her shoulder connected with something hard. As she fell back, she realized it was the heavier vampire, bowling her to the ground with a snarl.
He was on top of her like a rabid dog, nearly slavering at the mouth, pawing at her chin to wrench her throat back. Cordelia flailed underneath him, but she was still holding the stake, clutching it desperately in her fingers. The vampire's mouth was near her throat, his breath ghosting over her skin. Cordelia slammed the stake into his back and then there was only ashes.
The first vampire, seeing his buddy dissolve, shoved the girl away from him and prowled toward Cordelia. "You bitch," he snarled, his mouth ringed with bright, fresh blood.
"Run!" Cordelia shrieked at the girl, who was lying in a sobbing heap on the ground, her shimmery halter top dulled with the blood oozing from her throat. She didn't respond, and Cordelia didn't have time to waste; she jumped back just as the vampire swung, aiming at the side of her head.
The vampire just smiled. "Well, now there's more for me," he leered, then lunged at her again.
Cordelia tried to jump back, but he was faster. The vampire grabbed her wrist and swung her toward the wall; the brick sent a jolt up her back, left her spine tingling with pain. He had her pinned against the side of the restaurant, his face inches from hers, as if he was about to kiss her. Cordelia howled and swung wildly at his head, kicked her feet, but he just ignored it. Instead, he plucked the stake from her hand, tossing it onto the ground at their feet.
The vampire snapped his fangs in front of her face, laughing. Her elbows were bleeding, where they'd scraped against the wall; it oozed down her forearms, pooling at the place where his hands held her trapped. She closed her eyes when he leaned forward, thinking: this is it, i tried, i tried--
His fangs scraped her skin. Then, suddenly, there was nothing: his weight was gone, leaving a cool sheet of dust which fell quietly over her skin.
Angel was standing there, his face expressionless. He tossed the stake on the ground at her feet. "You're trying to get yourself killed," he said, although he sound more annoyed than concerned.
Cordelia dusted off the front of her blouse. "What are you doing here?" she hissed. "I told you to stay away!"
"Next time I won't bother," Angel sighed, already walking away. "Go home, Cordelia."
She was hurt and infuriated, and here was Angel, walking away like he'd actually done her a favor. She had to argue with him; it was like a reflex. "Good thing I'm not blonde, then you'd be really happy," she spat, picking up her stake of the ground. "Might lose that soul of yours, right? What's left of it, anyway."
Angel stopped cold. At his sides, his hands were clenched, the knuckles white. "I would stop if I were you," he said, without turning around.
Cordelia refused to back down, glaring hard into his back, fueled by adrenaline and the memory: Don't make me move you. "I'm sure that's what those lawyers were saying too, weren't they?" she said, her voice deadly, quiet. "Stop. Don't. Please. Too bad you slammed the door in their face and walked away!"
There was a shift in the air, and an instant later, she was pressed back against the wall. She was pinned beneath the hard weight of his body; his eyes were crazy, his mouth gone tight. "You're just like them," he whispered, shaking her with each word. "Just like them. Everyone keeps trying to figure it out-- how far can we push before Angel starts to lose control?"
Cordelia tried not to flinch, but he was hurting her, his fingers clutching with such intensity she could feel the bones in her arm shifting. She'd never seen him like this, wondered if he would kill her, here, right in this alley. "Stop it," she said quietly, looking him in the eye.
It was like he didn't hear her at all. He pushed her further against the wall, his face so close to hers she could see the brown-gold kaleidoscope of his changing eyes. "Gonna push me too, Cordelia?"
She wanted to run, to scream, to shove her stake in his chest so far it went all the way through. Instead, she clenched her teeth and said, "You're deranged. Get off me!"
His rage coiled between them like smoke, seeping into her skin and the cold, angry scent of her fear. Angel was perfectly still, more than any human could be, until he abruptly shoved away from her. The strength of his arms was strong enough to crack her head against the wall, and she realized with a start that he was no longer staring at her face, but at his own hands. They were covered in blood.
Her blood.
Cordelia narrowed her eyes, fighting the wave of nausea inside her. "Don't you dare," she said.
Angel glanced up at her, then back at his hands. In the darkness of the alley, his eyes gleamed yellow like a cat's, hungry and secretive. Then, to her horror, he raised his hand to his mouth and started licking away the blood.
It was too much. Cordelia lunged at him, not even caring about the stake, hitting him anywhere her fists could find. "You disgusting freak!" she howled, punching him as hard as she could. "I hate you! You're a sick, deranged monster! Don't touch me! Don't--"
Angel shoved her away easily, back toward the wall. This time, when he came toward her, he was moving like a hunter. Cordelia pressed herself against the wall, all of her survival instincts fading away at the sight of him, his mouth stained with her own blood. "You are a monster," she said again.
"I thought you already knew," he whispered. For the first time, something flickered in his eyes, something other than anger.
He lifted her arm, still stained with blood, and raised it to his mouth. Cordelia watched him with sick fascination: he ran his lips up to the crease of her elbow, where the blood pooled, still seeping from the cuts and scrapes on her skin. She started to struggle, but he pressed himself closer to her, holding her easily against the wall. This time, when his mouth ghosted over her wrist, she could feel his fangs.
Cordelia shoved at his face. "If you bite me, I'll shove this stake so far--"
Angel obediantly dropped her wrist. He stared down at her, his hands clasping her arms, and for an instant she thought he was going to simply let her go. "What about this?" he murmured, moving closer, his mouth nearly touching hers. "Can I do this?"
And then he kissed her, slow and deep, sliding his tongue into her mouth. It shocked her: she could taste her own blood and something else, smoky and masculine. He pressed against her more insistently, his knee wedging between her legs, and she didn't want this but now that she had it she did, she did. She grabbed his shoulders and held on, tried not to think about what she was doing, how he had fired her and helped Darla and Drusilla kill a room full of people and--
His lips trailed over her throat, down to the shallow scrapes left by the other vampire's fangs. Cordelia had forgotten about them, until now: Angel sucked gently at them, biting the skin softly to draw more blood. It hurt, but at the same time, she felt herself falling down into the pleasure. Down to Angel's level, dark and dangerous. He slipped his hand between her legs, unbuttoning her pants and sliding his hand inside.
The skin of his cool hand against her warm belly sent her reeling. She jerked forward at the contact; he moved his hand down, between her legs, his fingers ghosting over the wet strip of her thong. It was like sensory overload: the rhythm of his fingers on her clit matched the rhythm of his mouth at her throat, each pull of her blood sending her higher, higher. Cordelia made a short, strangled sound, something between a moan and a whimper.
Angel looked up, and she realized his game-face was on. It startled her and angered her in turn, and she dug her nails into the soft, fleshy side of his neck. "I'm not Darla," she spat. "Don't touch me with that face."
He stared at her defiantly. When she dug her nails deeper, he shuddered, a long motion from his head to his feet. Then his human features reappeared, although his eyes glimmered still, and he lowered his head back to her throat. His fingers hadn't stopped moving; she sunk back into the rhythm, let her head fall back. Sucking and pulling and now she was starting to feel light-headed, delirious--
The orgasm snuck up on her, beginning in the pit of her stomach and climbing up her body until she felt like she was falling apart. Angel held her against the wall, following the motion of her body and holding her there, trapped at the pinnacle. It was amazing and terrifying all at once.
Then, just as suddenly, it was over. Angel lifted his head to look into her face and now, his expression was sad and lost. His mouth was wet with her blood; he wiped at it viciously and she realized he was ashamed, just as she was. Now that the euphoria was gone, she felt worn out and dirty, tired from the loss of blood. Angel cleared his throat. "I'm--"
"Don't you dare say you're sorry," Cordelia snapped, buttoning up her pants and trying to wipe away the blood. It was everywhere: her arms, hands, neck, chest. "You're disgusting, and what we just did was disgusting too."
He looked away but said nothing. Cordelia picked up her stake from the ground-- she didn't even remember dropping it-- and held it in front of her, like a threat. "We used to have something good," she told him, no longer angry, just empty. "And then you started going and sticking your fangs in the every bad thing you could find. And now all we have is this-- this freakshow."
He recoiled, as if she'd struck him. "Cordelia," he said, then stopped, as if unsure of what he wanted to say. Finally, he settled on, "Let me take you home."
When he reached for her, she cringed away from him. "I'm not going anywhere with you."
"It's late," he said, a final attempt.
Cordelia shrugged. "I'll take my chances. Just-- get out of my way." He moved to the side, letting her pass, and she carefully avoided even brushing against him.
Angel's gaze burned into her back. "It's not safe," he called after her.
She stopped, but didn't turn to face him. Cordelia was finished with him, completely; anything she said now was just to keep him away, to make sure he didn't bother her again. "What about what we just did? Was that safe?"
When he spoke, she could barely hear him. "No," he whispered. "No, it wasn't."
"I didn't think so," she said. "I meant what I said, back at the hospital. You walked away, Angel. Now do us a favor and stay away."
Cordelia didn't wait for him to reply. She walked out of the alley and onto the street, trying not think of what she'd just done, what they'd done together.
If only she could stop looking at the blood.
-fin
Dangerous Type
R, Post-The Thin Dead Line, s2; Cordy/Angel
oh inside angel, always upset
keeps on forgetting that we ever met
can i bring you out in the light?
curiosity's got me tonight
-the cars
Of course, she thought. Of course. Gunn and Wesley were off with a client-- hopefully there would be money involved-- and Cordelia was sprawled on the floor in front of the desk, trying to hold in her guts because the vision hit her so hard she thought she might puke up everything inside her. The floor was cool against her cheek; she held onto the leg of the desk and focused on her breathing, slow and deep, soothing.
As she regained her strength, she began going over the vision in her mind, turning over each image like a card from the deck. Two vampires. A girl looking for a good time. An alley, covered with trash, its mouth opening next to the Chinese place on 17th. Rape, cutting, feeding--
Cordelia wretched into the trashcan next to the desk, eyes watering, her skin sticky with sweat. Once she was finished and her legs were strong enough to support her, she started tossing things into her bag: stakes, holy water, her favorite ax. She left a note for the guys pinned to the calendar on her desk, then headed out the door, trying not to think about the fact that she was going to face-down two vampires or she was going to die.
The cabbie dropped her off a block down from the restaurant. Cordelia picked her way down the sidewalk, dodging heavy-handed men and empty-eyed prostitutes, trying not to scuff her heels on the trash littering the curb. The Chinese place was open, its neon sign casting pale, vibrating shadows over the dimly-lit street. She took a moment to stare into the flourescence, then made her way around the building, into the alley.
The smell hit her face: cloying, suffocating, the heavy scent of rotting meat and spoiled vegetables. Luckily, she'd already puked, so she was able to walk past without gagging. Standing behind a dumpster, she waited, listening to the far-off beat of the club's music and voices, growing closer. Peeking around the corner, she spotted them: a young girl in black pumps, jeans, and a questionable silver halter top. The boys were behind her, laughing and jeering: one had shaggy hair and subtle freckles, while the other had beefier features that made her think of-- well, not Angel.
His name alone was enough to spike Cordelia's adrenaline. Shortly after, the first vampire grabbed the girl's wrist and pushed her toward the wall, smirking. The second followed after him, leaning toward her with his game-face on; the girl screamed, which Cordelia interpreted as her cue. The second one noticed her immediately, turning toward her with a toothy smile. "Hey, look," he said. "Now we don't have to share."
Cordelia saw the girl struggling against the wall like a hooked fish. Cordelia didn't think; she lunged forward instantly, pulling her stake, aiming it in a downward arch toward the vampire holding the girl. The stake was so close; she waited for the whoosh, but instead, her shoulder connected with something hard. As she fell back, she realized it was the heavier vampire, bowling her to the ground with a snarl.
He was on top of her like a rabid dog, nearly slavering at the mouth, pawing at her chin to wrench her throat back. Cordelia flailed underneath him, but she was still holding the stake, clutching it desperately in her fingers. The vampire's mouth was near her throat, his breath ghosting over her skin. Cordelia slammed the stake into his back and then there was only ashes.
The first vampire, seeing his buddy dissolve, shoved the girl away from him and prowled toward Cordelia. "You bitch," he snarled, his mouth ringed with bright, fresh blood.
"Run!" Cordelia shrieked at the girl, who was lying in a sobbing heap on the ground, her shimmery halter top dulled with the blood oozing from her throat. She didn't respond, and Cordelia didn't have time to waste; she jumped back just as the vampire swung, aiming at the side of her head.
The vampire just smiled. "Well, now there's more for me," he leered, then lunged at her again.
Cordelia tried to jump back, but he was faster. The vampire grabbed her wrist and swung her toward the wall; the brick sent a jolt up her back, left her spine tingling with pain. He had her pinned against the side of the restaurant, his face inches from hers, as if he was about to kiss her. Cordelia howled and swung wildly at his head, kicked her feet, but he just ignored it. Instead, he plucked the stake from her hand, tossing it onto the ground at their feet.
The vampire snapped his fangs in front of her face, laughing. Her elbows were bleeding, where they'd scraped against the wall; it oozed down her forearms, pooling at the place where his hands held her trapped. She closed her eyes when he leaned forward, thinking: this is it, i tried, i tried--
His fangs scraped her skin. Then, suddenly, there was nothing: his weight was gone, leaving a cool sheet of dust which fell quietly over her skin.
Angel was standing there, his face expressionless. He tossed the stake on the ground at her feet. "You're trying to get yourself killed," he said, although he sound more annoyed than concerned.
Cordelia dusted off the front of her blouse. "What are you doing here?" she hissed. "I told you to stay away!"
"Next time I won't bother," Angel sighed, already walking away. "Go home, Cordelia."
She was hurt and infuriated, and here was Angel, walking away like he'd actually done her a favor. She had to argue with him; it was like a reflex. "Good thing I'm not blonde, then you'd be really happy," she spat, picking up her stake of the ground. "Might lose that soul of yours, right? What's left of it, anyway."
Angel stopped cold. At his sides, his hands were clenched, the knuckles white. "I would stop if I were you," he said, without turning around.
Cordelia refused to back down, glaring hard into his back, fueled by adrenaline and the memory: Don't make me move you. "I'm sure that's what those lawyers were saying too, weren't they?" she said, her voice deadly, quiet. "Stop. Don't. Please. Too bad you slammed the door in their face and walked away!"
There was a shift in the air, and an instant later, she was pressed back against the wall. She was pinned beneath the hard weight of his body; his eyes were crazy, his mouth gone tight. "You're just like them," he whispered, shaking her with each word. "Just like them. Everyone keeps trying to figure it out-- how far can we push before Angel starts to lose control?"
Cordelia tried not to flinch, but he was hurting her, his fingers clutching with such intensity she could feel the bones in her arm shifting. She'd never seen him like this, wondered if he would kill her, here, right in this alley. "Stop it," she said quietly, looking him in the eye.
It was like he didn't hear her at all. He pushed her further against the wall, his face so close to hers she could see the brown-gold kaleidoscope of his changing eyes. "Gonna push me too, Cordelia?"
She wanted to run, to scream, to shove her stake in his chest so far it went all the way through. Instead, she clenched her teeth and said, "You're deranged. Get off me!"
His rage coiled between them like smoke, seeping into her skin and the cold, angry scent of her fear. Angel was perfectly still, more than any human could be, until he abruptly shoved away from her. The strength of his arms was strong enough to crack her head against the wall, and she realized with a start that he was no longer staring at her face, but at his own hands. They were covered in blood.
Her blood.
Cordelia narrowed her eyes, fighting the wave of nausea inside her. "Don't you dare," she said.
Angel glanced up at her, then back at his hands. In the darkness of the alley, his eyes gleamed yellow like a cat's, hungry and secretive. Then, to her horror, he raised his hand to his mouth and started licking away the blood.
It was too much. Cordelia lunged at him, not even caring about the stake, hitting him anywhere her fists could find. "You disgusting freak!" she howled, punching him as hard as she could. "I hate you! You're a sick, deranged monster! Don't touch me! Don't--"
Angel shoved her away easily, back toward the wall. This time, when he came toward her, he was moving like a hunter. Cordelia pressed herself against the wall, all of her survival instincts fading away at the sight of him, his mouth stained with her own blood. "You are a monster," she said again.
"I thought you already knew," he whispered. For the first time, something flickered in his eyes, something other than anger.
He lifted her arm, still stained with blood, and raised it to his mouth. Cordelia watched him with sick fascination: he ran his lips up to the crease of her elbow, where the blood pooled, still seeping from the cuts and scrapes on her skin. She started to struggle, but he pressed himself closer to her, holding her easily against the wall. This time, when his mouth ghosted over her wrist, she could feel his fangs.
Cordelia shoved at his face. "If you bite me, I'll shove this stake so far--"
Angel obediantly dropped her wrist. He stared down at her, his hands clasping her arms, and for an instant she thought he was going to simply let her go. "What about this?" he murmured, moving closer, his mouth nearly touching hers. "Can I do this?"
And then he kissed her, slow and deep, sliding his tongue into her mouth. It shocked her: she could taste her own blood and something else, smoky and masculine. He pressed against her more insistently, his knee wedging between her legs, and she didn't want this but now that she had it she did, she did. She grabbed his shoulders and held on, tried not to think about what she was doing, how he had fired her and helped Darla and Drusilla kill a room full of people and--
His lips trailed over her throat, down to the shallow scrapes left by the other vampire's fangs. Cordelia had forgotten about them, until now: Angel sucked gently at them, biting the skin softly to draw more blood. It hurt, but at the same time, she felt herself falling down into the pleasure. Down to Angel's level, dark and dangerous. He slipped his hand between her legs, unbuttoning her pants and sliding his hand inside.
The skin of his cool hand against her warm belly sent her reeling. She jerked forward at the contact; he moved his hand down, between her legs, his fingers ghosting over the wet strip of her thong. It was like sensory overload: the rhythm of his fingers on her clit matched the rhythm of his mouth at her throat, each pull of her blood sending her higher, higher. Cordelia made a short, strangled sound, something between a moan and a whimper.
Angel looked up, and she realized his game-face was on. It startled her and angered her in turn, and she dug her nails into the soft, fleshy side of his neck. "I'm not Darla," she spat. "Don't touch me with that face."
He stared at her defiantly. When she dug her nails deeper, he shuddered, a long motion from his head to his feet. Then his human features reappeared, although his eyes glimmered still, and he lowered his head back to her throat. His fingers hadn't stopped moving; she sunk back into the rhythm, let her head fall back. Sucking and pulling and now she was starting to feel light-headed, delirious--
The orgasm snuck up on her, beginning in the pit of her stomach and climbing up her body until she felt like she was falling apart. Angel held her against the wall, following the motion of her body and holding her there, trapped at the pinnacle. It was amazing and terrifying all at once.
Then, just as suddenly, it was over. Angel lifted his head to look into her face and now, his expression was sad and lost. His mouth was wet with her blood; he wiped at it viciously and she realized he was ashamed, just as she was. Now that the euphoria was gone, she felt worn out and dirty, tired from the loss of blood. Angel cleared his throat. "I'm--"
"Don't you dare say you're sorry," Cordelia snapped, buttoning up her pants and trying to wipe away the blood. It was everywhere: her arms, hands, neck, chest. "You're disgusting, and what we just did was disgusting too."
He looked away but said nothing. Cordelia picked up her stake from the ground-- she didn't even remember dropping it-- and held it in front of her, like a threat. "We used to have something good," she told him, no longer angry, just empty. "And then you started going and sticking your fangs in the every bad thing you could find. And now all we have is this-- this freakshow."
He recoiled, as if she'd struck him. "Cordelia," he said, then stopped, as if unsure of what he wanted to say. Finally, he settled on, "Let me take you home."
When he reached for her, she cringed away from him. "I'm not going anywhere with you."
"It's late," he said, a final attempt.
Cordelia shrugged. "I'll take my chances. Just-- get out of my way." He moved to the side, letting her pass, and she carefully avoided even brushing against him.
Angel's gaze burned into her back. "It's not safe," he called after her.
She stopped, but didn't turn to face him. Cordelia was finished with him, completely; anything she said now was just to keep him away, to make sure he didn't bother her again. "What about what we just did? Was that safe?"
When he spoke, she could barely hear him. "No," he whispered. "No, it wasn't."
"I didn't think so," she said. "I meant what I said, back at the hospital. You walked away, Angel. Now do us a favor and stay away."
Cordelia didn't wait for him to reply. She walked out of the alley and onto the street, trying not think of what she'd just done, what they'd done together.
If only she could stop looking at the blood.
-fin