Summary: Her heart goes boom boom boom every time she thinks of him
Spoilers: Set sometime late s1.
Disclaimer: Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
Distribution: Just ask
Notes: I wrote this forever ago with the intentions of building it into something more. *sighs* So much for intentions. The summary refers to the Enigma song Boum-Boum
Feedback: Yes please.
It’s like he’s her drug.
She can’t stop thinking about him, can’t stop watching him.
She’s discreet of course, makes sure she’s the same old Cordelia at work.
Smiles and snarks and makes coffee.
Tells him the layered look is not the same when he uses all black material, gives Wesley grief for running into the corner of her desk.
Good old Cordelia.
He never asks about the dates she hints at, the other men that are sometimes real and sometimes not.
He never really looks at her.
Frustrated and tired of being ignored, she wears something a little more revealing, a little bit tighter, and spends the afternoon filing, pacing in front of his office door as often as she could.
Two hours and he never looked up.
She thought she’d failed, that her pathetic attempts amounted to less than nothing.
Until she looked up right before closing time, and caught his eyes on her.
For a brief second, she paused, her stomach bottoming out.
Then he blinked and turned back to his book and she stood like a woman naked in front of man that had just rejected her.
Exposed and found wanting. Lacking. She’s not used to that feeling, and it seems to feed her addiction to him like gasoline to a fire.
A light touch on the shoulder or the way he leans down over her shoulder to peer at the monitor. Having to patch him up after a fight.
Sometimes it’s so hard to breathe she thinks she’s going to hyperventilate.
Tonight he’s cleaning his weapons and she slips, just a little, watching the way his hands slide over the Japanese steel. It’s like he’s stroking a woman’s skin, and she wonders how he’d look in the throes of an orgasm.
Would he grit his teeth or shout? Arch his back and curl his toes, or would he seize as he orgasms inside a woman, every muscle locked in place?
Hunger rises like a current under the full moon, becoming a crashing wave, and she shakes a little, swallowing the saliva trapped in her throat.
He freezes and looks up then, straight at her.
He looks angry.
She blinks and turns away, opening another tab on the monitor. He doesn’t want her, and doesn’t want her drooling over him and God, wasn’t she just the biggest loser ever?
It doesn’t stop the shaking.
She keeps her eyes on the monitor, refusing to look up until she sees the moon through the blinds of her window. Milky white and shimmering with energy, it stares down at her.
She realizes that Angel is no longer in his office.
Getting up, she crosses the office and peeks in.
He’s gone, and didn’t bother saying good-night.
She sighs and turns, thinking ahead to her cold bed.
Then the lights cut out and she freezes, suddenly terrified one of Angel’s enemies has found them.
She opens her mouth to scream Angel’s name when a hand slashes across her mouth, muffling her as another arm wraps around her waist.
She’s lifted against a hard body and shoved forward, against her desk.
The cup of pens falls from the hard jarring, and she braces her hands across the surface, trying to peer over her shoulder.
“I can’t be what you want me to be, Cordelia.”
It’s Angel’s voice, but harder, more ragged. His breath puffs against the shell of her ear and she immediately shivers from the sensation.
“I can’t be your lover,” he whispers in that sandpaper voice as his hips grind against her ass, making her feel how hard he is, and she gets wet so fast it hurts, a pressure between her legs that begs for him, for his cock.
It’s hard but she bends an arm, reaching for his, wrapping her fingers around his wrist.
He resists at first, but finally allows her to move him in the direction she wants him to go.
She makes him cover her breast and palm her, the exquisite feeling feeding into the pressure between her legs and Angel grunts harshly, burying his face in the side of her neck, licking her skin.
“I can’t do this with you, not with you. Not unless I’m willing to let the world burn.” He pushes his cock into the cleft of her asscheeks and rubs himself there, and she pushes her hips back, wanting him, trying to tell him to take her, that she doesn’t care.
Let the world burn.
He lets go of her breast to reach down and pull at her skirt, yanking it up and ripping the seam. When it’s over her ass, he pulls her panties down, exposing her hot flesh to the cool night air. She gasps, still gagged by his hand, and curls her nails into the wood of her desk as he violently shoves his fingers into her wetness, filling her before pulling out.
She almost falls except he’s still got a hand on her mouth, not willing to let go and let her turn. He uses his fingers to stroke inside her cunt as his thumb rubs over her clit. He rubs his still covered cock over her ass.
Harder and harder.
“This is all I can give you, all I have to give. Do you want it?” He pumps against her body, getting himself off while he builds her orgasm past what she’s ever achieved before.
The world is already burning, she thinks wildly; sweat rolling down her back, her thighs as she tightens them on the hand between.
“I asked you a question, Cordelia,” he says into her ear. “Do you want this.”
The desk moves with every thrust and she’s crying into his palm, shoving herself back at him so hard if he wasn’t a vampire, they would have fallen.
But he takes it, his fingers lifting her up to her toes and demanding her answer with every shove back against her.
Finally a red haze rises up in front of her eyes and her body clenches tight before convulsing against his.
She screams when the hand covering her mouth falls away, drenching his fingers inside of her.
Angel shouts out as he comes, his body covering hers, and she knows she’s his forever.
To feel that again, she’d do anything.
Even let the world burn.