Posted: Jan 2007
Content: C/A all the way
Summary: What’s a little bed sharing between friends?
Spoilers: S1 (?)
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
Distribution: AO, FSB, Cal & Lea’s places.
Notes: I do so love the smut!!
Feedback: always lovely!
It all started off so innocently, all those weeks ago.
Both had been tired after a night of demon hunting. Her apartment seemed miles away, while his was a short elevator ride away. Didn’t take a lot of persuading for her to stay over.
He’d kept his distance as she lay a few inches away from him, all wrapped up warm and safe in his sheets. Occasionally something would be said and sleepy laughter would follow. Hazel eyes glanced through darkened lashes, a smile appeared for all too short a moment before it disappeared into a yawn.
Now, the distance between them barely reached an inch.
He eased onto his side, rolling a broad shoulder, feeling the bone and muscle pop and stretch under his skin. There. That was better. Much, much better.
Angel watched her for a second. Taking in the fluttery shadows of eyelashes, the pale red hue shading her lips, and chestnut hair laying everywhere. Poor little thing. So tired she couldn’t be bothered to remove all her make-up or put her hair up. It was a good thing he lived below the office. She probably would have fallen asleep halfway up her stairs.
She rubbed her cheek and he smiled. She’d be mad when she realised a nail was chipped. No doubt he’d get the blame. Well, him and the visions.
Angel didn’t mind. He loved it when she got vexed. Was fun to watch her talk a mile a minute. Those full lips moving at the speed of light, hands waving here and there in overly dramatic gestures of anger, a foot stomping. Sometimes, if he was really lucky, she screeched. That sweet little voice going so high pitched, the insects she hated ran for cover.
Yep. Definitely fun.
Maybe he’d do something to get her angry. He could always reach over, just when she was about to drift off, and poke her side. Right in that tiny spot that tickled. Nah. That was a bit too cruel. Still, it would do the job.
It was strange, this thing between them. It went far beyond the calls of duty, beyond the odd sort of friendship they had.
Cordelia liked to hear stories of days gone by, liked to hear of the places he’d been, faces he’d seen. A lot of what he had to say grossed her out and she never pretended otherwise, but that never stopped her coming back for more. She loved hearing tales of debauchery, sex, and scandalous romances, she hung onto his every word when he talked about enemies he’d had.
Better than a novel, she told him once.
In return, he liked hearing her talk. Didn’t matter what she talked about, as long as she talked. He knew she’d been arrested for noise pollution. Her parents had gone away on business and pleasure, leaving a spoiled rich, sweet sixteen year old girl in charge of a swimming pool and large hi-fi.
Her uncle Barrett, the family lawyer, had to bail her out of jail at four in the morning.
Angel recalled chuckling at her words to her uncle. If it was good enough for the Hiltons, it was good enough for Cordelia Chase. Besides, according to her, it had been the party of the century. Even if her mother’s treasured Ming vase had been irreparably destroyed.
Having been to one of her house parties, he had no trouble believing it.
“Tell me a story.” She rolled to face him, eyes barely able to stay open and voice soft, gentle with sleep.
“Which one?” Angel felt his hand move to her waist. No surprise came when satin met his fingers.
When they first started sleeping together, it was borrowed sweats and old pants all the way. Then pj’s became shorts and strappy tank tops, old pants turned into worn boxers. The colours ranged from black to grey, the material cotton and flannel.
Nothing pleasing to the eye or hand.
Soon after, shorts and strappy tanks became baby doll night dresses made of satin or silk. The colours were dazzling. Ruby red, Ceylon sapphire, emerald green, cerise, lavender. All mysteriously appearing on her bed, one gorgeous garment at a time. Worn boxers were now new, bought from Valentino, Calvin, D&G. The colours were either black or grey.
“The one about the seer and the warrior.”
“Well,” Angel stroked up and down, going from her curved hips to just below her breast, not surprised to find no evidence of underwear. “Once upon a time, there was a warrior and seer…”
“Was she pretty?”
He couldn’t resist. “No. She was a troll.”
A single sleepy eye cranked open. “Did she have a warty nose and missing teeth?”
“And short. Very, very short. Pudgy fingers, rags for clothes, straggly hair. You know the type.” He paused, waited for her reaction. Wasn’t long before he got it.
That chipped nail poked in that place. The place no-one could hide from.
His body jerked and twitched, arched and grabbed the offending digit. Pulling it up, placing splayed fingers across his chest. Not saying anything when she brushed over his nipples.
“Ass.” He chuckled and she smiled, looking at him with expressive bambi eyes.
“I’ll ask again. Was she pretty?” A solid thigh eased between her legs, the light covering of hair tickled. Cordelia let him pull her closer. Close enough for her breasts to touch his chest with each breath she took.
Shades of gold and orange and yellow swirled in brown eyes. Spice and sweetness came off her and Angel pushed his thigh a little higher, a little harder. She was warm and wet and naked against him. His fingers tightened around her ribcage. “No, she wasn’t pretty.”
Slender digits flexed and nails left nine light pink welts, with a red one from her broken nail. He could feel her moving below the covers, rocking softly back and forth, using his muscle for pleasure.
What did she do when he was out fighting and she was all alone? Twisted sheets, small fingers? Did she look at a picture of him or did she use her imagination? Didn’t matter, really. Not as long as it was him.
“Was she hot?” Cordelia’s eyes were shut, blunt straight teeth bit down on a reddening lower lip. Both hands in use, one gripping his chest and one sliding down to hold his hip. A slow burn, a harsh clenching. She was empty. Nothing inside to hold onto, nothing to ease the heavy pressure making her pussy ache.
Every contoured inch of his thigh rubbed her clit raw, the silky nightgown and salty male flesh made slippery with juice. Little sex noises left him panting, itching to give her another without the time to cool down. Seconds, or was it minutes, passed and her body tensed. Dewy lips and a pearly clit pulsed heavily.
He wished she was sitting on his face so he could lick up every tangy drop of honey. So he could see her, all pink and shining, wide open and so fucking ready for more.
“Yeah, she was hot.” And wet. Really, really wet. He said no more. Just watched her face scrunch up as she creamed, soaking his thigh.
There was nothing better than seeing a beautiful woman orgasm, nothing better than seeing her orgasm. She surprised him, though. She never screamed or cried out or any of that. When she came, it was quiet and soft and left him hard, aching, and busting out of the seams. When she came, it was intense.
The tension was gone now, in its place were lazy limbs, glazed eyes, and lipstick on the teeth which made her lip bleed.
Something inside Angel burst. His right hand left her waist. He had a matter to take care of.
Though the sheets prevented Cordelia from seeing it, she did feel a flutter of expensive cotton against her legs, and she did see him throw a piece of black to the floor. They could be like this, do this, in bed, but never changed in front of each other.
“And the warrior. Was he hot?” The sheets moved in a certain way and the quiet slapslapslap of skin could only mean one thing. She knew what he was doing beneath the covers and she wished they were gone so she could watch.
He never let her touch any part of him but chest and arms, so she didn’t know what he liked. Did he like a firm grip or gentle? Did he like a little roughness, or sweet and soft? Did he like to dominate, or be dominated?
What did he do when she was at home on a morning and he was all alone? Did he look at one of his drawings or did he just think of her? Did he jerk off in the shower or did he lay down, pretending she was the one doing it? Didn’t matter. Not as long as she was the one he was thinking of.
She wasn’t stupid. She knew he wasn’t thinking of anyone else when he did it. She knew him.
When he was attracted to a woman, he was attracted to her, and no-one else. She had his attention. It really should scare her, but it didn’t.
It should scare her that he watched her, that he came to her apartment when she was asleep, but it didn’t. It should scare her that he had sketch pads full of her, but it didn’t. It should scare her that who she slept with could turn on her any second, but it didn’t. It should scare her that some of what he whispered to her, when they weren’t alone, bordered on sick and twisted, but it didn’t.
It should scare her that the vampire she slept with barely had a soul anymore, but it didn’t. He thought she didn’t know, but she did. She’d seen him fight. Seen him be unnecessarily cruel, brutal in fact. Seen him tie a vampire to a lamp post and leave him there while he walked away, laughing.
He hadn’t known she was there. Why she had been there, she didn’t know, but she was glad she was. She got to see him fight, truly fight, without worrying about an audience. When her and Wesley were there, Angel seemed to hold back as though he would be judged. It was a different matter when he was alone.
Alone, Angel gave a new meaning to the word violent. She guessed it was his time to let his hair down, so to speak. It was his time to let go and do what came naturally to a vampire. What she saw him do, what he was capable of, should of scared her, but it didn’t.
“He was hot.” He squeezed the base of his cock, eyes rolled back, and grunted. “Uh.”
Cordelia’s eyes were drawn to the moving sheets. “How hot?”
“He was hot. Yeah. Hot. Really hot. God yes.” Angel’s hips jerked forward, shoving more of his dick into his firm grip. He wanted her hand there, her slender fingers closing tightly round his shaft, her palm sliding up and down.
“Did he want the seer?”
“Day in and day out.” A smirk appeared when he felt his cock swell in his hand. He wondered what she would make of the truth. “The warrior would watch his seer do all kindsa things. Put on her make-up, brush her hair. Sleep. She never knew he was there.”
“No?” She always knew he was there, watching. Sometimes she put on a show for him. Wearing thongs with tiny skirts, not wearing a bra with clingy tops, sucking on lollypops when wearing red lipstick. Silky sheer stockings, garter belts, killer heels.
If she was feeling particularly daring, she would wear a necklace. One with jewels going all the round her throat. Just to get his attention.
Tiger’s eyes focused on her, and again there was no surprise. Not stupid was his Cordy.
He’d taught her well.
Angel squeezed the thick base of his cock, relishing in the pain of holding off his need to come. Every little pulse, every vibration, went right through her, and damn, she wanted to touch him. Wanted to wrap her hand tight around him and get him off.
She did the next best thing.
Cordelia slipped her hand from his chest, biting her lip when she felt the sweat and come coating the thigh between her legs. She saw the exact moment he caught on to what she was going to do.
Eyes widened and fluttered, jaw twitched and teeth ground down so hard, bone crunched. Fingers slipped and slid over her moist pussy, teasing herself with a poor excuse of what, who, she needed. “Angel, finish the story. Please Angel? Finish it.” Finish her. There was no shame in begging for it.
What the lady wants. “She had this one lipstick. Not red, not brown. Made her lips all full and soft and shiny.” His hand gripped his cock, strong digits exuding force enough to make his voice go high. Christ, was she ever going to touch him? “Made him want to fuck it right off.”
Bambi eyes melted into liquid caramel. She’d heard him swear before, but not inside the bedroom. It got her where it hurt. She was wide open now, her fingers sounding obscene against slick flesh.
“Did he ever do that?”
The sheets stopped moving, and he was left throbbing in his own hand. “He didn’t know if she’d let him. So night after night, when they slept together. Hands under the covers. Fumbling, feeling. He would stare at her mouth, thinking how good it would be to have those lips sucking him into oblivion.”
Angel was already there. Her kneeling in front of him, her pretty pink tongue lapping up the salty liquid as he slid back and forth against her hungry mouth. Could see her swallowing him whole, feel the soft suction, her warm soft palm stroking his balls, encouraging him to let it go and give it to her.
Darkening eyes trapped her, made her squirm. Her fingers pushed down hard on her clit when a sharp, stinging pleasure shot through her. “He never ask?”
Her voice was pure pain, all whispery and sweet. It was the kind of tone that made him think of all the bad, dirty things he’d love too do to her. In his office, bend her over, lift her skirt, making her take every solid inch of his cock. In his bed, her flat on her back, legs wide, his tongue right there.
He thought of other things, nastier things. Things that would turn her gorgeously tanned cheeks a rich red, things that would leave that pretty mouth speechless.
Things that excited him to the point where it hurt. Hurt so much, he could barely look at her in case she saw what lay behind his human facade. Made no difference she already knew, he had no wish for her to see what came with the territory.
“Was he not the asking type?” Her breath hitched around the question. “Or was taking what he wanted more his style?”
His face was closer now, close enough for his tongue to kiss her lips with each word of his reply. “Would she like him to play the gentleman? Flowers, dinner dates, sweet nothings murmured to her. Slow love making lasting all night long. Give her something good to dream about.”
“Or?” Her tongue met his in an open mouthed kiss that led to another, and another, and another. The softness didn’t seem right, not in comparison to the heavy intimacy between them.
“Or he could be a little rough with her.”
She could barely feel the hand squeezing her ass and thigh hard enough to leave bruises. Her head was light, eyes unfocused as she stared at the vampire. Cordelia hissed when thick digits dug into her skin, slipping over the deliciously slick surface.
Angel moved closer to her, letting her feel his cock hard against her. One leg rose and lazily draped over his trim waist, the silky chemise pulled tight around her body, restricting her motions. He smirked, pulling the sheets down a bit, allowing him to see just how good his latest gift looked on her.
The gown was a creamy white, appearing grey in the dark light, perfectly skimming the curvy figure in a way that made him want to fall to his knees. It was smooth to touch, his fingers gliding from bottom to top, his skin tingled from the hot figure it clothed.
Was such a shame to destroy it so soon.
It tore cleanly between full breasts, her gasp of shock and arousal music to his ears. He didn’t immediately look at her, simply watched the spectacular emotions cross her face.
Pert nipples kissed his once, and again, and each time she took a breath. His muscles were harsh and luscious on the sensitive buds, her tiny moan was muffled by pecs.
Angel slammed his hips up, quietly groaning out in delight at her nails drawing blood. The tight little place opened on contact, the honey coated slit slid up and down his aching shaft, leaving him in a state of grace. Oh God, she needed something inside her.
He was close, so damn close to making her take all of what he had to offer, whether she wanted it or not.
“Only a little?” Cordelia hid her face in his chest, her lips tasting the salty perspiration.
She was practically fucking him now, hot hips pushing to and fro, harder and faster. Rougher, more desperate as her body grew heavy with her second orgasm. He could hurt her all he wanted if he’d just do it.
No. Not yet. He wouldn’t allow her the luxury of coming, not when there was still a story to end.
He tried to smile, tried to talk, but the way she was riding him gave nothing but agony. “The seer was innocent. She didn’t understand a little pain is all it takes.” Jesus, he was about to come all over her.
Fuck it. He needed it, she needed it. There’d be a price to pay, but what the hell ever.
Angel’s hands clamped round her hip and he made her stop, his head rolled back when all that was left was the burning ache in his cock when fulfilment was not had. His body twitched, she moaned and squirmed, the motions smeared him with juice, making him deliciously wet.
She was ready for it, he knew that, but it didn’t stop him from checking. Just to be absolutely sure.
The first thing he felt was softness. He wasn’t surprised. Quite the contrary. He’d expected her to be soft. It was the sole reason why her night dresses were silk. The second thing he felt was heat, the kind of heat that only came with a heavily aroused woman, and again he wasn’t surprised.
A man only had to look at her and he’d instantly know she’d be a hot bitch in bed.
Finally, there was tightness that eased some when his finger moved inside, searching for that elusive little spot which would force those intense sex sounds straight from her throat. Yep. There it was.
“Yeah, she liked that.” Angel whispered, this time able to smile. About time she knew what he went through, day in and day out, because of her. The short, short skirts and stockings and thongs made for erotic entertainment, but it was the sass, the biting wit, that got him. That mouth spouting off the smarts, putting him in place. Kept him on his toes, so to speak.
Glassy hazel irises were barely open. “Yeah. She liked that. Really liked it. Wanted more.”
Sounded as though she’d heard this story before. Still, who was he to deny her?
Satiny muscles fisted his finger, urging him to go one step further. The slow smooth strokes were designed to open her up enough for a second digit and she was so unbelievably wet, he met no resistance. He could hardly wait till it was his dick she was squeezing.
It wasn’t until the leg over his waist moved to his back that he was satisfied she was completely ready for it.
The interest expressed in a little pain gave him leave to do exactly what he wanted.
He held her gaze as he brought his hand up out of the covers and lapped up the honey, letting her know just how nice she tasted. He lied earlier When he’d licked his hand clean, Angel stroked her cheek right before he took what was rightfully his.
She was exquisite. A perfect fit.
“Does it hurt?” She couldn’t speak. Good.
Cordelia blinked back tears as an ache spread through her stomach into her hips. It was an odd feeling, having him inside. It hurt, but not quite how she thought it would. It wasn’t an ache exactly, more of a sting really, and it was gone before it started.
Her friends at school told her it was bad, nightmarishly bad, and so she’d never gone that far out of fear. Sure, she’d done a bit of light petting here and there, but never any further.
He looked at her, his silent question answered with a shake of her head. Her tears weren’t from the sting, it was from what she lost, and though the right man took it, it was still gone.
Then she was on her back, legs locked around his back, and taking everything he had to give.
Cordelia filled her cup with hot water, her eyes going from the cups to the vampire waiting patiently. She heard the taptaptap of moist fingers against his stomach and swallowed.
“You look a little nervous.” He said, his lips curved up into a wicked smirk.
“I am a little nervous.” She picked up her coffee and his blood, watching so she didn’t trip over the hem of the robe she wore. She never really thought of how tall he was. Never seemed to matter.
Sharp white teeth flashed. “Only a little?”
She placed the steaming mug of blood in front of him, freezing at the feel of his cool hand round her wrist. “A little is all it takes.”
“And a little give and take goes a long way. Tell me,” Angel leaned back in his chair, never once taking his eyes off her. “How much are you willing to give?”
Cordelia’s faced brightened some. “I heard a saying. It’s not the fall that kills you, it’s what you hit at the bottom.”
“I’m still falling.”