Part 4<\/b><\/p>\n
Dr. Marsha Van Buren sat in the quiet corner of her office, her eyes once again on the backside of the door where her most interesting patients had just left. She\u2019d given them a doozy of an assignment, the first one that really promised some results. She\u2019d known that she had little time, but she hadn\u2019t counted on the fact that the book she\u2019d chosen would give her so many good ideas.<\/p>\n
The first chapter, entitled \u201cSensual Massage: A Pleasure Map of Your Partner\u2019s Body,\u201d had given her an insane yet totally logical idea. She\u2019d written the assignment with shaky hands, then slid it into the envelope and sent it along with her unsuspecting patients. Her own body tightened at the image of those two beautiful people touching each other in such a sensual yet platonic way.<\/p>\n
That, coupled with their other instructions, was bound to make the sparks fly. It had to work. It just had to. Because there were only three weeks left, and she only had a few tricks left up her sleeve.<\/p>\n
If Cordelia and Angel didn\u2019t get their groove on soon, Angel\u2019s psyche would be split, and she\u2019d have to figure out how to give therapy to a psychotic killer. What little she\u2019d heard of Angelus made her teeth chatter in trepidation; she was bound and determined to see that the crazy vampire was banished forever.<\/p>\n
***<\/p>\n
The thwack of Angel\u2019s fist hitting the punching bag reverberated off the basement walls. He punched it again, his hits repeating so quickly that his fists were nearly blurs of movement. The force was so much that he was hitting the bag farther and further back, not allowing time for it to settle to vertical again. His frustrations were mounting, and the physical exertion was doing nothing to alleviate them.<\/p>\n
His mind was obviously preoccupied. It wasn\u2018t in this basement, in his head where it was supposed to be. His mind was upstairs, in his room, with Cordelia an hour or so in the future. His mind was on their next homework assignment.<\/p>\n
The problem was that his mind kept trying to add some extra credit. Very pleasurable extra credit. He imagined going beyond their assignment, beyond the instructions and making love to her. Touching her all over, bringing her pleasure so great that she wept with it. And once the imaginary scenes of making love to her began playing in his head, he couldn\u2019t make them stop.<\/p>\n
Their homework assignment tonight involved a lot more physical contact than they\u2019d had before, and while he mostly bought Dr. Van Buren\u2019s theories on the importance of physical touch in his relationship with Cordy, he wasn\u2019t so sure that he could restrain himself if she kept cooking up these erotic scenes for them. Okay, so maybe playing Twister wasn\u2019t erotic in anyone else\u2019s mind, but getting such a close view of Cordelia\u2019s body, not to mention the heightened sensation of her scent surrounding him, had nearly destroyed his carefully erected emotional walls.<\/p>\n
During the game, he\u2019d been okay, his mind on other things, but afterward, all day long, her scent had taunted him. Such close proximity to her had awakened something in him, a hunger for intimacy that had lain dormant since he\u2019d realized his relationship with Buffy was doomed to failure.<\/p>\n
Now, he was faced with a strangely similar yet startlingly different scenario with Cordelia. He wasn\u2019t in love with her, not yet, but he found every part of his being infused with her in a way that made him nervous. The common bond between his relationship with Cordy and his past love of Buffy was that both women brought very strong, very protective feelings of loyalty to the surface of his soul. They both called to his humanity, called to him to be a man in his own right, not just a man-demon hybrid. They both arose in him a fierce need to protect, nurture and love.<\/p>\n
It was the loving that scared him.<\/p>\n
Loving Buffy had nearly killed him. Leaving her was harder than he\u2019d ever thought possible, even though he\u2019d always known in the back of his mind that his relationship with Buffy was doomed. Even when he\u2019d first glimpsed her, first felt the stirrings of attraction in him that were so new, so different, he\u2019d known that a vampire and a Slayer couldn\u2019t last. He hadn\u2019t known about the insane clause in his curse then, but he\u2019d known that being with her forever was impossible. And as they\u2019d fallen in love with each other, he\u2019d begun to understand that it wasn\u2019t just because of their roles, it wasn\u2019t just because he was a vampire and she was the Slayer. It was also because of who<\/i> they were. It was because they were Angel and Buffy. Their personalities meshed well in some ways, but in others, especially the most important ways, they were too much alike.<\/p>\n
Although he\u2019d known they couldn\u2019t last, he\u2019d tried to make it work anyway. Angel\u2019s heart had been stolen by Buffy, and he couldn\u2019t just give up. But when he realized what life would be like for her with him, when he\u2019d realized that her life would be a constant balancing act between her natural instincts and her love for him, he knew he had to leave.<\/p>\n
More importantly, he\u2019d left for himself. For his own mental health. For his own self-image, his own identity. Sunnydale, the place that had witnessed his salvation, had become his prison, and he needed to get out and make a name for himself by himself. He had to be a person, an entity, a force for good on his own, not just as the vampire boyfriend of the Slayer. Not just a man who tried to hide the darker side of himself, whose girlfriend wished daily that he were fully human and not the demon that he was. It didn\u2019t matter that he had the same wish. What mattered was that she couldn\u2019t truly accept him, all of him, and that was the hardest thing of all to love about her.<\/p>\n
But where Buffy had reluctantly tolerated his demon and embraced his man, Cordelia whole-heartedly embraced them both. There were times when he even thought she was more comfortable with his demon that she was with him as a man. Up until they\u2019d begun these sessions with Dr. Van Buren, Angel had thought that Cordelia was just a breath of fresh air. Okay, maybe a whirlwind instead of a breath sometimes, but still, she was a force of humanity in his life that couldn\u2019t and wouldn\u2019t be ignored. At first, he\u2019d tolerated her foibles, then allowed himself to be annoyed by her. But eventually, he\u2019d gone from being irritated with her to needing her. To relying on her to make him laugh inside, to make him smile. To be her quirky, friendly self and chase away the darkness that always haunted him.<\/p>\n
Leaving because of Darla was the worst mistake he could\u2019ve made.<\/p>\n
Even now, beating the hell out of this punching bag, he mentally flagellated himself for his stupidity. It didn\u2019t matter that he\u2019d finally hit lower than rock bottom and realized how much he needed her. How much he needed Wesley and Gunn, too. The worst mistake, by far, was that he\u2019d taken Cordelia\u2019s loyalty, her friendship, and ground it under his heel like yesterday\u2019s trash. He\u2019d thought he didn\u2019t need her, and he had never been more wrong.<\/p>\n
When he finally came to his senses and returned, there\u2019d been a rift so wide between them that it might as well have been the Grand Canyon. He\u2019d done everything he\u2019d thought possible to get back in her good graces, even buying her new clothes to replace the ones he\u2019d so thoughtlessly given away. But doing that had almost made the situation worse. That\u2019s when their arguing had begun. Over petty things. She was the queen of petty arguments. She was always finding something he\u2019d done and making it seem like he\u2019d just ordered her execution. So he\u2019d get mad and yell back.<\/p>\n
And here they were, a month after Wesley had had enough, still mired in confusion and no closer to a comfortable relationship than they had been when they\u2019d started.<\/p>\n
Okay, so the discomfort had shifted somewhat. At the beginning, the only sexual awareness he\u2019d had of Cordelia was when his demon spoke its lascivious thoughts in his ear. The same demon that made the same types of comments about any curvy blond or brunette that he saw, whether she was the waitress at Starbucks or the delivery girl. He\u2019d just chalked the errant thoughts up to the impulsivity of his demon, nothing more.<\/p>\n
Now, though, thoughts of making love to Cordelia haunted his dreams. The Twister game last week had only served to increase his confusion, with her drugging, intoxicating scent playing havoc with his senses and infiltrating his thoughts. He couldn\u2019t\u2019 seem to escape her, couldn\u2019t seem to think about anyone but her, and it was frustrating him to no end.<\/p>\n
So here he was, taking his anger, confusion and frustration out on a defenseless piece of cowhide and stuffing. His knuckles were undoubtedly bruised, but the pain felt good. The pain was real. The pain was something he could deal with. These swirling emotions that bound the soul, the demon, and the man in a tangled web of desire were disconcerting. They didn\u2019t make sense. If anything, she was his best friend, not a sex object.<\/p>\n
And yet, in less than an hour. He had to see her naked. Well, nearly naked. And he had to touch her.<\/p>\n
What would that<\/i> do to his dreams?<\/p>\n
***<\/p>\n
Carefully, Cordelia struck the match to the side of the box and it flared to life with a hiss. She placed the burning match against the wick of the candle, watching as the flame transferred and the candle began to glow. She repeated the process with several more candles, until Angel\u2019s room was suffused with a soft golden light, and the very faint scent of vanilla frosted the air.<\/p>\n
The Zen-like quality of lighting the candles helped to calm her, but it only delayed the inevitable nervousness that she\u2019d been holding back since they\u2019d opened their homework assignment this afternoon. A quick glance at the clock both relieved her and intensified her jitters. 32 minutes and counting. 32 minutes until Angel would join her in this cozy, golden den. 32 minutes until she would stand with a towel clutched securely around her, and he with one around him. 32 minutes until she would release it, lay down, and feel his hands on her body.<\/p>\n
32 minutes until total, complete psychological and emotional meltdown.<\/p>\n
Because sure as she was standing here, feeling Angel\u2019s hands on her skin was going to make her burn from the inside out. Feeling him touch her back, trace the line of her spine with his thick, long fingers, would be her undoing. He wasn\u2019t even here in the room with her right now, and already her skin felt hot. Her face was flushed, her heartbeat elevated, her breathing erratic. If just thinking about him made her like this, how would the real thing affect her?<\/p>\n
Cordelia couldn\u2019t say for sure when this transition from buddies to would-be lovers had happened. Even a week ago, before the Twister assignment, she\u2019d still only thought of him as a friend. Okay, so a sinfully good looking, hot-bodied, emotionally close friend, but a friend nonetheless. But during the twister game, remembering their sessions with Dr. Van Buren and the talks about lust and their feelings, had stirred to life something inside her that she wasn\u2019t sure had ever been evoked before. She\u2019d felt desire before, felt physical pleasure, but she didn\u2019t ever remember her very essence being challenged by someone. Her attraction to Angel had wormed its way down to her very soul, and she wasn\u2019t sure how to handle it. How to process it. Or even worse, how to control it around him.<\/p>\n
Still more frustrating were the dreams she\u2019d had every night for the past week. The first night had been a faceless onslaught of pleasure, only a shadow above her that stirred her body to life and taunted her until she woke up in a breathless, dizzy sweat, wanting, needing and craving some satisfaction. It wasn\u2019t until two nights later that the shadow had been given a face. That the shadow became Angel. That she\u2019d realized with startling, jump-in-a-cold-lake clarity that she lusted after Angel in more than just a casual way.<\/p>\n
Tonight\u2019s homework assignment wasn\u2019t going to help matters at all. Shaking herself out of her growing worries, Cordelia walked into the adjoining bathroom and retrieved several fluffy towels, then took them to the make-shift table set up in the middle of the room next to Angel\u2019s bed. Candles surrounded her on all sides, and in the dim light, the shadows wavered as she shook a few of the towels out and placed them strategically on the table top. A small stand nearby held various fragrant oils, and she shook them up for a bit before rearranging them fussily. Then, placing a rolled towel at the head of the table, she stood back and surveyed her work.<\/p>\n
With nothing to do, her mind immediately went back to the instructions for tonight. They were both to strip naked, then wrap themselves in towels, and give each other full body (or as full-body as they dared) massages. During the massage, the massager was instructed to talk about his or her past loves, to state why they\u2019d fallen in love (or been attracted), what the relationship had been like, and why they\u2019d parted. They were to spare no details, and the person being massaged was allowed to ask any clarifying questions he or she wanted.<\/p>\n
Cordy wasn\u2019t nervous at all about going through her rather short list of exes. She hadn\u2019t been truly in love with any of them, even Xander, and it would be no problem to rehash all of that with Angel. He knew most of it anyway.<\/p>\n
The part that worried her was hearing him talk about Buffy.<\/p>\n
She didn\u2019t know why it brought such fear to her heart, but it did. If anything, Cordelia just wanted to pretend that Buffy didn\u2019t exist. These weird, new, disconcerting feelings for Angel aside, Buffy\u2019s return, or more aptly, Angel\u2019s return to Buffy, meant a total upheaval of Cordelia\u2019s life. Even if Cordy and Angel never got to a point where they were together as lovers, Buffy\u2019s return to his life would still feel like a total abandonment. Cordy would be losing, at the very least, her best friend, and it hurt to think about him leaving again.<\/p>\n
She would just rather not talk about it at all. She didn\u2019t want to hear him say he was still in love with the Slayer. She didn\u2019t want to hear him lament the curse and how he\u2019d be with her if he didn\u2019t have it. She didn\u2019t want to hear him reminisce about the time before he found out about the Angelus clause, and she didn\u2019t want to sit around and wither inside as the topic made him sink further back into his broody self and away from her.<\/p>\n
But she had to. She had to listen to him talk about her, because that was their assignment. And she had to listen to it with the added torture of his strong hands on her skin.<\/p>\n
A glance at the clock again. Oh, god. 21 minutes. 21 minutes until her life was over.<\/p>\n