Never See The Day   Leave a comment

Title: Never See The Day
Author: Samsom
Posted: June 06
Email
Rating: R
Category: Hmm…Poignant
Content: C/A
Summary: It’s Cordelia and Angel, that’s all I’m going to say.
Spoilers: None, not really
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
Distribution: Ask first, please.
Notes: I stay up way too late Saturday nights listening to music and watching TV and I get these ideas and next thing you know, I’m spamming with fic at 3 in the morning.
Eh. Whatever. At least I put it behind a cut.
Thanks/Dedication:
Feedback: Always welcome


In his dreams, the cold blue of the room is broken by the golden glow of the fire in the oversized fireplace. The rain outside the wide windows cascades down in sheets, keeping the world out for just a little longer.

Her heels are hard on the hardwood floor, muffled briefly by the Persian carpets laid out in front of the fireplace before resuming its drumbeat as she moves closer to him.

He sits in a winged back chair by the wide, four-poster bed, waiting for her with one leg crossed over the other. He doesn’t move, just drinks in the graceful lines of her body, the curve of one hip as she walks with a deliberate sway towards him, aided by her black heels.

Her face is shadowed in blue darkness, her expression inscrutable to him.

She’s wearing a simple black dress and sheer hose, the only spot of color is the white pearls that curl around her neck and dip into the shadow between her breasts.

“Why am I here?” She asks.

She knows, though.

It’s a game they play.

“I wanted to see you. I miss you.” He replies quietly as he looks up at her.

She spreads her hands out by her side briefly.

“I’m here. See me.”

He gets up slowly, beginning the short walk to her, not stopping until he can feel her breath on his face as she looks up at him, eyes gone slightly wide.

“I always see you, though, always. Everywhere.”

He leans down just a little and takes her lips in a small kiss, parting his lips over her closed mouth.

She closes her eyes, not kissing him back.

“You can’t keep doing this.”

She’s always been the realist.

But not here.

Here is for him.

“We can, just for a little while.”

He coaxes her with drugging kisses that deepen steadily, arms kept at his sides as her head falls back on the stem of her neck. Not from the force of his mouth on hers – he keeps it slow and soft, deep and wet – but from the effects of her own desire for him.

She tastes like the sweet brandy his father used to keep for after Sunday supper, like honey and musk, and he can’t get enough, delving deeper into her mouth as his body gets hard, tightening with desire.

She lifts her arms, running her hands over his wrists and up his bare forearms underneath the rolled up cuffs of his sleeves, before stopping at his biceps. She squeezes gently, her tongue rubbing against his in a blatant invitation to another invasion.

He brushes his pelvis softly against her belly, barely touching her and that makes her breasts strain against the square neck of her dress, her nipples hardening to points as they brush against his button down black shirt.

“Angel.”

She whispers his name in just that way he loves, low and helpless, before bringing her hands up to his head to hold him to her.

She doesn’t have to though.

There’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

He encircles her with his arms, his right hand resting possessively in the space between her shoulder blades, brushing his fingers softly over the gooseflesh he finds on her bare skin under the softness of her hair.

Her skin is soft, but there’s such steel underneath, enough strength for both of them if he needs her.

And he always needs her, gets so lost without her.

The taste of her changes as he kisses her, becoming salty.

He’s lost now, adrift and alone and he can’t keep the world out forever.

She pulls back and looks up at him, sorrow clearing away her desire for him.

“I want to stay, I like it here,” she says.

She looks past him, past his shoulder, and he wishes he could see what makes her so sad.

“Here is better.”

A hushed whisper and he knows it means she’s going to go, fade from his arms and leave him alone.

“Don’t go.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I never got to tell you I love you.”

“I know.”

She becomes harder to hold, but he fights to anyway, closes his eyes and tightens his grip.

But the world comes back and when he opens his eyes again, all he can feel is the grip of his hands on his forearms, the gnawing hunger that feels like a heartbeat in his belly, and the blue water that surrounds him.

He closes his eyes again, and tries to go back to her.

End

Samsom

Posted October 30, 2015 by califi in Complete

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Blue Captcha Image
Refresh

*