Go TeamC/A
Title: Speak No Evil
Author: MexicanAlibi
Posted: 11/03
Rating: N-17
Category: Light, smut
Content: C/A
Summary: After offending a powerful shaman, a spell is put on Angel and now he can only speak the truth. Loudly. And in public.
Spoilers: None, set in season 3
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
Distribution:
Notes:
Thanks/Dedication:
Feedback: Please...?
Part 1For the first time in her life, somebody had told Cordelia to shut the hell up.
Well, Angel mused, that wasn't strictly true. He suspected there was an innumerable amount of poor bastards that had tried to get Cordy to shut up in the past, but this afternoon when Wes had told her to "sit down and for the love of God, keep quiet!!", for the first time in her life, Cordelia Chase obeyed.
It was eerie.
"Shut up." was practically the sum total of all the advice Wesley had felt it necessary to offer his colleagues on the subject of diplomacy. It was no secret at their office that chewing the walls and looking dangerous were Angel's areas of expertise, and anything outside the fields of manicures and first aid went completely over Cordy's head, so despite Angel Investigations' unparalleled success in the 'Discover-the-Potholes-Yourself!' school of inter dimensional relations, Wesley considered today's negotiations too valuable to gamble on the vague possibility that Cordelia might, for once in her life, have something relevant to contribute to the proceedings. Wesley had banished her to the upstairs hotel rooms for the evening, and that went for Gunn and Fred too.
Now Wesley Wyndam-Pryce - he was a diplomat. Angel could see him out of the corner of his eye, nervously tugging at his shirt collar and adjusting that god awful plaid jacket that he usually wore to formal events. For a while, Angel had noticed, Wes had gone through a delightful stage of wearing a tasteful black Armani suit, presumably Cordelia's influence. To everyone's dismay, it had appeared that the ex-watcher had switched back to plaid, probably owing to too many Tarantino jokes on Gunn's behalf.
"So Wes," Angel shifted awkwardly on his stool, "The client guy's kind of late. D'ya think maybe he-"
"He'll be here, Angel." Wesley replied curtly.
Still, Angel shifted. If this was such a delicate diplomatic situation, why did he have to be here?
"Are you sure, because maybe he got caught in some-," off Wesley's look, Angel unperceptively flinched, "-traffic?"
"Do stop fidgeting. And no, I don't believe the millenia-old shaman got caught in a little cross-dimensional traffic."
"No need to be sarcastic." Angel mumbled.
Wesley tried to glare at Angel, but unwillingly his eyes softened.
"I'm sorry, Angel. I don't mean to snap - I think we're all a little on edge, we've never had a client of this.... 'caliber' before."
"What would a shaman want with us anyway?"
Wesley shrugged, "We're champions for hire, I suppose. Sometimes even the darkest magicks just don't get the job done. I think, maybe..."
Angel could feel the deep rumbling beneath his feet before it was even audible. Before Wesley had a chance to finish his sentence, a slice of white energy cut through the air in the middle of the lobby, and a black robed figured stepped nonchalantly out of nowhere.
"Now remember," Wesley added in a hushed whisper, "don't fidget and don't say anything to offend the nice shaman."***
Fred and Cordelia lay back leisurely on the bed, grinning wildly as Gunn stripped down to his boxer shorts.
"Y'all lied to me," He said, "you have played this before!"
Cordelia gathered up all the cards and started to expertly reshuffle them, a handy little trick her good friend Doyle had shown her, once upon a time.
"Yeah, well... you were the one who wanted to play strip poker, mister! Just be grateful we're not playing for money!"
"Ooo!" squealed Fred, "Can we play for money next? Because I get to see Charles naked practically all the time."
Cordy snorted as Gunn quietly fumed.
"Just deal already." Demon hunter or not, there was nothing intimidating about a man in Snoopy underwear.
In a way, Cordelia was glad they didn't have to be at that stupid meeting with the boring client. She was a firm believer in making her own fun, and a dusty old shaman certainly didn't fall under that category. Cordy shuffled and reshuffled, until she was satisfied that the cards were in no particular order, and then with a cocky flick of her wrist, she dealt three separate poker hands.
"Right," she chirruped, "are you all ready for round four of me kicking your asses?"
Cordelia's smugness was cut short by a second thundering sensation that caused the playing cards to fall off the mattress and onto the floor. Fred let out another squeal, only more terrified and definitely at an eardrum-piercing decibel, as she gripped onto Gunn's bare arm for support. This rumble seemed to be a lot more powerful then the first one. Gunn, Fred and Cordelia sat numbly for almost thirty seconds, completely unsure of how to react.
Finally the noise slowed and stopped, and the hotel seemed to settle back into peace. Cordy gathered up the playing cards, and went about her usual business off pretending that nothing was wrong, and that she wasn’t practically peeing her pants just a moment ago.
"Hm. Guess shaman guy has left the building” She said, “Think we can go downstairs now?"
Gunn leapt to his feet and immediately began pull on his jeans.
"Thank merciful Jesus! I really got to talk to Wes about suitable reading material in the office, I don't think y'all should be allowed to read Cosmo anymore." Gunn was halfway out the door before he's even finished shrugging back into his luminous orange sweatshirt, leaving Fred and Cordy to giggle half-nervously to each other.
Slowly, Cordelia and Fred gathered what few items they had brought upstairs with them, and made their way out into the dark hallway. They stopped suddenly as they saw Gunn standing on the top of the stairs, gawping down into the lobby at the smoking remains that was once the front desk.
No. Nonono..., Cordelia moved to stand behind Gunn and peered over the bannister, her arms frozen to her side in complete disbelief. What the hell happened? Was everyone alright?
From her position, Cordelia caught a brief glimpse of a very singed Angel, looking sheepish, trying to dig the toe of his shoe into the linoleum of Wesley's office, but more-or-less unharmed.
‘Oh, thank god!’ She thought, ‘Angel’s okay, that’s the main thing.’
She paused for a moment and wondered where that thought had suddenly come from, but the rush of relief was too consuming to dwell too much on anything else.
Finally, a barbecued Wesley came into view, and Cordelia felt herself relax a little more.
Wesley looked pissed, and understandably too. He was pacing back and forth in his office, stopping every couple of seconds to open his mouth, and let it flap noiselessly in the air, as if he couldn’t find the right words. Periodically, Wes would glare evilly, and most of this glare was directed at a very silent Angel. Cordy wondered about whatever it was that Angel could possibly have said to get himself into so much trouble, and leave a gaping black hole in the middle of the hotel.
When Wesley finally spoke, he was livid.
" I thought I told you to keep your bloody mouth shut!"
Part 2Angel stood over the still smoking remains of the Hyperion's front desk, mentally kicking himself.
He resisted the urge to poke at the smouldering remains with his shoe, reminding himself that they were his favourite shoes. Cordelia had bought them for him.
Out of the corner of his eye Angel could see her hovering behind Fred, looking bored but beautiful, as per usual. He was always looking for more and more inventive ways to get and keep Cordelia's attention, but blowing up the lobby was a little extreme, even for him.
Angel's thought process was interrupted by a large man, smacking him on the back.
"Way to go Angel!" Gunn said, sarcastically, "Man! What the hell did you say?"
"I honestly don't know."
"How could you not KNOW?!!" said an angry British voice from somewhere behind them.
Wesley's voice sounded odd, but that was probably because he hadn't been using it in the past hour. He had been too busy sweeping up a thin layer of ash that had already settled on the floor. That, and ignoring Angel.
The tone was harsh, but Angel stood straight and refused to flinch. Cordelia winced in sympathy.
"...but you do have an inkling?" she said.
"All I know is that we were exchanging greetings, and I said something about his cape, and then boom!"
"Half the reception area missing?"
"Exactly!"
Wesley silently mumbled, "I told you to keep quiet!"
"I was only saying 'Hello'..."
"Well," Gunn clapped his hands together, trying to cut the tension in the room down to a tolerable level, "Guess we can scratch that client off our 'incoming finances' list. I say we all stop moping and start..."
"...cleaning?" said Wesley, hopefully.
"Actually, I was gonna say start drinking. Or we could go hack some big nasty in to tiny pieces - that always makes me feel better." The rest of the group, even Angel, grimaced at the idea.
"Or we could play poker!!" Fred added, enthusiastically. Gunn pointed a finger at her, his face cold and expressionless at the suggestion.
"No." was his only reply.
"Well, I suppose a quick drink wouldn't do much harm." Wesley threw the brush on the floor, officially giving up, "Or more accurately, more harm then Angel has already caused us..."
"Hey!"
"In fact," Wesley said, "I think I could do with a brandy. Or even twelve."
Before he had finished his sentence, Cordelia was halfway up the stairs. Stopping momentarily on the landing, she yelled "I'll get my coat!", and continued to climb the stairs in a hurry.
Angel watched her bound the steps, two at a time, like she was an excited child. He smiled secretly to himself. Where the hell did she get all her energy from? She was like a freight train sometimes...
And that idea put a very interesting thought process into Angel's head.
"Freight trains can move all night," he said, completely at random. Shaking off the weird looks her got from his colleagues; Angel remembered he was supposed to be feeling guilty.
"Y'know," Angel tried, "considering the shaman could have done a lot worse to us, I think we got off light with him destroying our front desk."
Gunn was dusting off the front of sweatshirt, "Angel, give it up, man."
Behind him, Fred was anxiously running her fingers through her hair, and looking back and forth between Angel and Wesley, like she was watching a particularly worrying game of tennis.
"Wait... do we all know for certain that this shaman guy isn't coming back? To mush us, I mean?"
Wesley chose to ignore her. He was tired. The last thing he wanted was something else to worry about.
"I really need that brandy. I wish Cordelia would hurry."
"That girl will take forever, and we all know it. Let's say we'll meet her there. We've done it before."
Angel baulked at the idea. "Hey! We're not leaving without Cordy, okay?"
"I think you're in no position to give orders right now, Angel."
"Yeahh! You're in the doghouse now, bro!" Gunn began to stride confidently towards the front doors, not willing to wait for anybody, or anybody's permission.
Angel took a couple of unconscious steps towards the staircase Cordelia had used a few moments earlier.
"I just think it would polite to wait for the woman whose visions are pretty much our only source of income..."
"... thanks to you." Wesley added.
"Again, HEY!!"
"Cordy is a self-sufficient young woman, she can find her own way to Caritas without us escorting her."
"Yeah, she's done it before. " Seeing the irritated look on Angel's face, Gunn bit back a chuckle. It was too easy to push his buttons, especially when it came to Cordelia.
Enjoying the sour look on Angel's face a little too much, Gunn turned to walk out of the glass doors and into the street, stopping only momentarily to playfully add, "Let's go! Screw Cordy!"
Angel shrugged, "I won't deny I've thought about it."
The silence that followed was absolute.
As Gunn slowly turned around, he could see that the irritation on Angel's face had been replaced by an unrecognisable facial expression: absolute horror. His eyes bugged out almost comically, and a pale hand crept over his face and covered his mouth as if to stop any other words from unexpectedly falling out.
An unsuspecting Cordelia skipped down the stairs, carrying her coat in her arms.
"Oh, yay! You guys actually waited for once! Great, now I don't have to kill any of you...", everybody appeared to be staring at Angel, who in turn was looking paler then usual.
When nobody made any movement to acknowledge her presence, Cordy started staring too.
"Jeez." She said, "Who died?"
"Stake me." Angel managed to squeak.***
After a painfully awkward car journey, Angel finally found himself at Caritas. Fred, Wesley and Gunn immediately made a beeline for the bar, seemingly trying to find the quickest method to erase certain mental images out of their heads.
Cordelia, still confused, stood beside Angel.
"Okay, I want an explanation."
"For what?" Angel asked, innocently.
"For the past twenty minutes of painful silence I've had to suffer. I leave the room for five minutes and the group dynamic goes to hell? Did you say something wrong again? Am I going to get back to the office and find Fred blew up my favourite office chair?"
He shrugged nonchalantly, "It's not my fault they can't get the mental image of us having sex out of their perverted little brai-... crap."
Suddenly, Caritas seemed like far too small a venue. Angel realised he had done it again; he had opened his mouth and said the very first thing that had come to mind.
Cordelia looked more confused then anything else, like she couldn't quite believe what he'd just said. She blinked empathetically once or twice, like Angel was some kind of hallucination, and seemed that little bit more shocked when he was still there once she had opened her eyes.
"I'm sorry," Cordelia said, "What did you just say??"
"You look pretty." Angel blurted, and was forced to cover his mouth again. Crapcrapcrap. The first thing that can to mind, again! Was this what it was like to be Cordelia Chase?
Thankfully, Lorne manoeuvred his way into their line of vision and interrupted before it could get any more nauseatingly embarrassing then it already was.
"Lorne!" Angel shouted, gleefully, "Lorne's here!!"
Now Cordelia was even more confused. Narrowing her big brown eyes, she looked, quite frankly, annoyed as hell. Angel wondered if he possessed the ability to blush? Having a reflection sure would have been handy right about now.
"Hi, my little dumplings! What an unexpected surprise!" Lorne sing-songed, "Not here on business, I hope?"
"Nope." Cordy said, "Angel already saw to that. Huge hole in the middle of our office."
"Hey!"
"Oh dear." Lorne looked amused. Glancing at Angel, he did a double take, presumably intrigued by his aura.
"Oh dear, oh dear!" He said again, doubly amused.
Looking ever dashing in his lemon coloured cravat and cufflinks, Lorne scrutinised Angel for a moment. He took a couple of moments to walk 360 degrees around the stiff and terrified vampire, smiling secretly to himself, and all the while examining. Eventually, Lorne stopped directly in front of Angel and paused, cupping his chin in one hand in a thoughtful pose.
"Well, your problem is as plain as Pylean Pin up. You pissed off a shaman, didn't you?"
Part 3As the Caritas karaoke bar cleared out at the end of the night, Angel felt an undeniable sense of relief pass over him. It was not secret that Angel wasn't fond of large humanity-based throngs of people - especially when they all packed into one tight, claustrophobic space. Considering his recent problem, Angel would've been quite happy sitting in his nice dark room in the Hyperion hotel, spending some quality time with a roll of duct tape and good book.
He sighed dramatically, and lowered himself onto the barstool next to Wesley. He had to get to the bottom of this thing, and quickly. God knows, he'd handled a lot of dangerous weapons in his line of work.
But 'honesty' was the definitely the worst of them.
For his part, Wesley made no attempt at conversation. Once upon a time this would've suited Angel just dandy, but for some confusing reason Angel found that his friend's opinions and temperaments had come to mean a lot to him. He still wasn't sure why, probably just another one of those 'humanity' things. But with the Englishman being in a very volatile mood with him that evening, Angel decided to distract himself by letting his eyes roam the brightly lit room, waiting for Lorne to finish locking up.
Across the bar he could see Cordelia sitting next to Gunn, and laughing halfheartedly at something he had just said. There was a small pulse of jealousy in the bottom of his stomach, the kind he got when he realised he wasn't the only man in the world who could make her laugh like that. He watched her fix her beautiful brown eyes on the table in front of her, still chuckling helplessly at whatever was so damned amusing that Gunn didn't feel the need to share with the rest of the group.
At least Cordelia was smiling. Angel decided that Cordelia, when she was smiling, was a very lovely thing indeed. He felt himself smiling a little as well, despite himself.
"Phew!" Lorne sighed, as he flopped down on a stool on the other side of Angel, "Who's for a drink, kids? I don't know about you, but I could sure do with one."
Angel nodded, never taking his eyes off Cordy. His Cordy.
"Yeah, I'll take two. One for me, and one for my groin..." There. He'd done it again. "Did I really just say that?"
Instinctively, Wesley moved his stool a couple of inches away from Angel, but Lorne remained where he was sitting.
"You certainly did. And I think we could all have done without that mental image, cookie. Take it from me, if you're looking to woo the Fair Cordelia you might want to tone down the smutty remarks and try a little romance."
Angel was a tad too defensive. "I don't really have a choice here Lorne. You might have noticed that somebody has cast some kind of truth-spell on me, probably the shaman. I can't help what I say."
"No kidding. Did he cast a 'state-the-obvious' spell too?"
Lorne tried his best to look unconcerned by Angel's angry stare, but all the same climbed of the stool and quickly strode behind the safety of the bar at a pace that, quite frankly, he considered embarrassing. Keeping his hands busy, he started fixing Angel a brightly coloured cocktail which the vampire eventually accepted with great distaste.
"Help me out here Lorne," Angel subtly left his drink on the bar, and ignored it, "How do I stop this?!"
"Hey! What am I, a magic eight ball?"
"You could be. Do I have to try shaking you?"
"Jeez, calm down. I don't have all the answers, mister! My guess is the shaman is the only guy who can undo this little truth mojo, so your best bet is to kiss his floaty ass. And repeatedly."
Angel shuddered, "Couldn't the mojo just, I dunno... wear off? By itself?"
"How the heck should I know? We're not even sure what kind of spell we're dealing with."
Angel sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. Lorne looked sympathetic.
"Okay, Angelcakes. I'll see if I can pick up from your aura, just... no singing, okay? Let's try this the old fashioned way. An interrogation." Angel suddenly found his arms were restless. He stretched them out in front of him, narrowly missing the cocktail by an inch or two, and then proceeded to scratch his head quizzically. An interrogation? He didn't like the sound of that.
This could not be good.
"What do you think about... " Lorne scanned the room, "...Fred's outfit?"
Angel turned to look at Fred, who was sitting on a chair and resting her head on a sticky table. She looked exhausted, poor thing. He hadn't really taken any notice of her outfit, or indeed of her, all evening. True to typical Fred-fashion, she was wearing a plain T-shirt and a long, pretty skirt that came to a rest just below her knees. Despite the circumstances, he tried his hardest to be tactful.
"I think it's kind of plain actually. But Fred is nice. I like Fred. "
Lorne smiled, "As do we all. Now, what do you think of my outfit?"
Angel sat up straight, a little nervous. How can he be tactful about a bright yellow suit?
"Not plain enough."
Beside him, Wesley snorted. Lorne frowned, and turned his back on Angel to put various bottles of liquor safely away. Anyone who didn't know him would think he was just doing his job, but Angel could see he was sulking.
Wesley leaned over towards Angel, fascinated by the experiment.
"This is actually quite fascinating. Angel, how often, if ever, do you crave human blood?"
"All the time, but mostly at lunchtime. Or whenever some bright spark reminds me it still exists..." Angel felt the familiar pangs in his stomach, "Damn. Lorne - any o-postive back there?"
"No." Was the snippy reply, "Okay, here's the real acid test: Angel, tells us about the love of your life."
Wesley groaned, and distracted by folding and unfolding a bar towel Lorne had thoughtfully laid out by Angel's drink.
"The love of my li-?" Angel's eyes wandered back to Cordelia suspiciously, "Y-y'mean? Oh!" Realisation dawned, "You mean Buffy!"
"Fickle much?" Cordelia hrrumphed from the back of the room. Angel, with some degree of panic, wondered how long she had been listening.
He gave the topic some serious thought though. Angel wasn't afraid to confront his past with Buffy... but what could be said about her? How could he narrow years of heartache into the form of one sentence? She was his first real love, the woman that had inspired him to make amends for his evil past in the first place. He owed her so much...
After some consideration, Angel said: "I think she needs more protein in her diet."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Have you seen her recently? She looks like she could snap in half. I mean, when we first started dating she was... well, I mean... she had..." A series of awkward hand gestures ensued. Wesley snorted again.
Gunn jumped in, "The word you're looking for is 'bootie'." Cordelia smacked him on the arm.
"Thank you. Buffy had, uh... 'Bootie'."
"Angel, you dawg! Got a thing for the bootie!"
"Okay, seriously Gunn. Shut up now."
"Don't be ashamed, bro! It just means you're one of us!"
Cordelia intervened, "But I thought she was supposed to be the love of your life!! You two had the greatest melodrama of all time! You can't tell me you only loved her for her... uh, butt."
"No, I didn't say that! But to be honest - between Buffy and Darla, sometimes I felt like a Gypsy curse was the better end of the deal. We were always hurting each other. The one thing Darla and Buffy had in common was that they loved the pain, neither one of them could be in a healthy adult relationship. I think if I was human, Buffy would've got bored of me."
There was a silence as this new piece of information sunk in. Gunn was the one to break it.
"But it was mostly bootie, right?"
"Shut up."
Cordelia rolled her neck, "Oh, yay. Please can we talk about Buffy some more? As if I don't hear enough about Malibu Beach-Massacre Barbie on a daily basis."
Is that really what she thought? Angel nearly leapt out of his chair, gearing up for another argument.
"No! I haven't mentioned Buffy in months!! You know that, Cordelia!"
"She's still there, though. In the back of your head, she's always there." Cordelia sounded more bitter than she'd probably be willing to admit. She slumped back into her metal chair and crossed her arms over her chest stubbornly, with her features drawn together in a stormy expression.
Angel was exasperated. This was a stupid topic. For the first time in a long time, the Buffy Topic was boring.
"Can't we talk about something else? Before the truth spell makes me point out how stupid you're being?... uh oh." That was a bad thing to say.
"STUPID?!" Cordelia squawked, "Said the vampire who dated a SLAYER?"
"Will you shut up about Buffy already? I thought you of all people would have noticed that..." he offered in an almost afterthought, before violently panicking and snatching the nearby bar towel off Wes and sticking it in his mouth as a makeshift gag.
"'Although' what...?" Lorne asked, his curiosity piqued.
NononoNONO! This could not be happening! Angel snatched a pen from Wesley's breast pocket, and scribbled the words 'TRUTH SPELL!!! SEND 4 DUCT TAPE!!" on the back of a beer mat, with the towel still dangling from his lips.
Lorne smirked. Gunn and Cordelia leapt to their feet, panicking because Angel was panicking and Angel wasn't suppose to panic. He had even gathered enough attention to have Fred lifting her head off the table in curiosity, even if she did lower it back down and snuggled into the crook of her own elbow seconds later. Although Wes was stubbornly trying not to be not interested, Angel could hear Gunn approaching him from behind. He spun on his stool, ready to defend himself from any move his friend might make to extract information from him, but completely unsuspected, Wesley stamped on his foot and Angel let out a yelp of surprise.
The towel came falling out of his mouth, and seconds afterwards so did the words 'IstareatyouallthetimeandI'mNOTmadeofstoneforGod'ssakewhydoyouhavetowearsuchlowcuttops?!' Angel wheezed unnecessarily and started shaking a little. Lorne wheezed in sympathy.
There was another silence. Gunn and Wesley hovered menacingly, undecided about what course of ass-beating they should take. To say Cordy looked a little shocked was an understatement. She had confusion written all over her big bambi eyes.
"I didn't want to say that. The words just exploded." He offered, by way of reconciliation.
"I 'm warning you, man... I'm close to exploding you right now." Gunn said.
Fred smirked knowingly, "He can't help it. He's got 'kyrumption'."
Gunn scoffed, "Is that what we're calling it right now?"
Wesley was intrigued, "'Kyrumption'? Isn't that the Protou-Bantou rite of passage where the genitalia is se-"
"No," Fred smiled sleepily, "It means Angel can't help being attracted to Cordelia because she is his destiny, silly. It's a Pylean word. They're destined..."
Cordelia blushed violently, "I'm not anybody's destiny."
Angel found himself unexpectedly hurt by such a simple sentence. It wasn't even an insulting sentence, either - no, it was just as casual defense mechanism that wasn't even aimed at him. But why did it hurt?
Angel stared at the floor. Was being with him such a terrible destiny?
"There are worse destinies." He found himself saying, "I'd make a good destiny... a GREAT destiny, in fact. I'm chivalrous. I'm a gentleman! I'm told I'm very talented in bed! What's so terrible about me? Least you're not 'kyrumpting' with Lorne."
Cordelia buried her head in her hands, he body laced with 'this cannot be happening to ME!' subtext.
Lorne, however, was offended. He threw the bar towel at Angel weakly. "Hey!"
"Sorry Lorne. I think it, I say it. It's the spell."
Lorne grabbed the towel and began to polish the bar frantically, almost obsessively.
"Well, I'm the one that was trying to help remember? You shouldn't go picking on me just because you want sweaty naked mink-sex and can't have it."
"I'm not hearing this." Cordelia moaned.
"'Sweaty naked mink-sex?'" Angel scoffed incredulously, "Right now I'd settle for a back massage and a photo of Cord- holy CRAP, where the hell is that duct tape?"
Cordelia grabbed her handbag and headed for the door, yelling something along the lines of 'SortthisoutamongstyourselvesI'vehadenoughofthiscrapseeyouallonMonday.' As a whirlwind of her perfume hit his face, Angel inhaled deeply and groaned in frustration. No way could Cordy ever respect him now, let alone consider dating him.
Lorne stopped polishing, his angry facade dropping momentarily and replaced by pity. Angel was miserable, more miserable then he had felt in a long long time, and he knew that Lorne could read it all over his pathetic, undateable aura.
"She'll come around, I promise you." Lorne said, "Your feelings are reciprocated, but I don't think she thought she'd ever be in a position to do something about them. Buck up."
"Thanks Lorne." Angel said, and he genuinely meant it. Angel felt his spirits lift a little, because deep down inside he knew that what Lorne was saying made sense. It was just like Cordy to hide her true feelings. It was how she got through day to day.
But how many times had they flirted? How often had he smelt the faint scent of her arousal as she pressed up against him? Angel knew that whenever their hands touched, their fingers lingered seconds longer then they had to. Whenever they were in close quarters, Cordelia felt the good, old fashioned schoolgirl butterflies in the stomach. Angel knew this, because he felt them too.
And he was a vampire, for god's sake. Vampire's don't get crushes.
Lorne had sprouted off into another monologue that Angel routinely ignored as he pondered the wisdom of sprinting out that door, chasing after Cordelia and forcing her to admit that she loved him. Probably wasn't a good idea. The best he could hope for in that scenario was a smack across the face.
"...hello?!" Lorne snapped, impatiently.
"Sorry Lorne, what?"
"I was saying that this kind of mojo can seriously throw you off your game, sweetie. As for example, NOW. I suggest you take your baby-powdered bottom out of commission for a couple of weeks until this whole thing has, excuse the term, 'blown over'."
Angel's mouth opened as if to say something, and Wesley took this opportunity to shove the bar towel back in there to prevent any more offensive noise from escaping.
"That should be fine." Wesley said calmly, "Gunn and I can assume any of Angel's work duties."
"Yeah, it's not like business was exactly booming anyway." Fred sighed.
Lorne chuckled humourlessly, "Fred, my little peanut, you need to get some sleep. I'll go to the Queen of Denial and try to do some damage control. You boys might want to look into that duct tape idea, and also - you might want to refrain from using words like 'booming' while His Royal Badness is in this state."
Angel huffed angrily, and tried to look as menacing as possible without physically vamping out into fangs and bumpy forehead territory. The effect was lessened considerably by his puffed out hamster-cheeks, the towel still protruding from his mouth.
Part 4The first place Lorne went to look was Cordelia's apartment. It made perfect sense that this would be the number one place Cordy would choose to hide, unless of course she really, really, really didn't want to be found.
Arriving at the doorstep with a couple of stray raindrops running down his green face, Lorne watched in dismay as a torrential downpour of rain let loose of the streets of LA.
'Darn,' he thought. There was no way he could get back to the comfort of his own club without his ensemble getting an impromptu wash. Irritated, he began to swipe at his hair, making sure it was still adequately styled after the night's activities, when he sensed something... weird. Not of the ordinary.
Without warning, Cordelia's apartment door seemed to swing open of it's own accord. Lorne had only visited Cordelia's humble abode once before when she had been bedridden by the visions, and Wesley had been forced to call upon his services. It hadn't ended well, what with Lorne finding himself catapulted across the bedroom, but in all the concussion he seemed to remember Wesley telling him that Cordy was lucky enough to share her apartment with a benevolent - heck, downright sociable - spirit.
"You'd be Dennis, I presume?" Lorne said, as he crossed the fresh-hold. A warm gust of wind was his only reply. "I'll take that as a 'yes', then. Do you know where she is, Dennis?"
Dennis didn't need to ask who 'she' was. Suddenly, the bedroom door flew open at such a velocity that it left a small dent in the plastered wall.
"Thanks, strudel. I'll take it from here..."
Lorne walked into the bedroom, completely uninvited. The lights were off, but even as he flicked on the light switch Lorne could see there was no sign of Cordelia - just an amorphous blob of bed sheets that looked like they might be concealing a human. Taking a seat on the mattress, he stroked the cotton fibres where he thought Cordy's head might be.
"You know you can't hide under there forever, Poptart."
Sure enough, the Blob of blankets answered back in a completely defeated tone of voice. It sounded just like Cordelia.
"I can too." the Blob said, "And did you just call me a tart?"
"A Poptart. An entirely different implication, I assure you." Lorne continued stroking, "Poptarts are frosted, I mean - who doesn't love Poptarts?”
The Blob shuffled away from his touch, seemingly annoyed. A moment of time passed - that is to say a series of increasingly awkward seconds, maybe even minutes - where nothing was said at all. Lorne felt himself getting annoyed also.
"You have to face this sometime." He said.
"No I don't." Said the Blob.
Having a barrier of bedsheets sure made it difficult to read someone's aura. Lorne couldn't even get a good look at her poker face in this position.
"You're in denial."
"No, I'm not."
"I think you are."
"Am not."
Lorne stretched his arms and lay back on the bed, shifting his body weight a little to get comfortable. Damn, this mattress was comfy. He could quite happily have stayed the night in that bed if the big blob of blankets wasn't pissing him off so much.
"Denial, denial, denial." Lorne sing-songed.
"Not."
"And now you're being childish."
"Not!" The blankets countered.
"Sweetie, I just want to have a word with you."
"And I have just the word for you, Lorne: 'NOT!' Notnotnot. Not. A resounding 'NOT' to anything and everything you could possibly have to say. This is all your fault anyway."
Lorne felt slightly offended. Why was everybody making him the emotional punchbag this evening?
"Hey! For once in my life, the world doesn't revolve around me. This is between you and the CareBear. How is it my fault?" Another awkward silence.
"I don't know. I haven't thought quite that far ahead. All I know is that I need a scapeboat..."
"I think you mean 'goat', Poptart."
"Correcting me, and calling me 'Poptart' is only going to land you in worse trouble, Mr Fault guy."
"It is not my fault!"
"What ever."
This was getting ridiculous. It was insane logic, and reeked of Cordelia. Lorne sat up on the mattress and poked the bed sheet on what he thought might be her lower back.
"Do you want to talk about it, or not?"
"Not." Cordy said.
"Well... fine, then." Talking to Cordelia when she was in this state was not unlike banging his head against a brick wall. There was the slightest dip of the mattress as Lorne stood up and walked towards the door, mentally resigning his position of diplomat. It was nearly three in the morning, for cryin' out loud - and Cordelia was as stubborn as a mule when she wanted to be. Angelcakes was on his own on this one. Lorne switched off the light switch on his way out.
The change in brightness caused Cordelia to peek her head out from under the safety of the quilt. With his back turned towards her, there was no way Lorne could possibly have seen the slight flash of panic in her eyes as she realised he wasn't going to push her for information. Pretending to exercise a sudden change of heart, Cordelia lay on her back and stared at the ceiling, clasping her hands together over her stomach like it was a regular session at a regular therapists.
"I suppose I saw it coming... " She said, beginning her great emotional spiel.
'Great,' thought Lorne, halting in his tracks, 'I was this close to curling up with a nightcap and a trashy romance novel'.
He went and sat next Cordelia on the mattress, for the first time getting a good look at what seemed to be a very comfortable pair of satin jammies she was sporting.
“Now you want to talk?”
Cordelia rolled her eyes, “No. You wanted to talk, I’m merely complying.”
“Honey, this is all for your benefit. I mean, HEL-LO? Anagogic here. I knew how you felt before you did. You just have to start admitting a few things to yourself, is all.”
There followed yet more silence. Cordelia appeared to have found a particularly fascinating area on her ceiling as she pondered what Lorne has just said. She opened her mouth to retaliate with something insulting, when a harsh pounding noise cut her off.
Someone was banging at the front door. Oh crap.
Cordelia crawled under her blanket again. Lorne went to answer the door, leaving Cordelia to whimper under the bedsheets and contemplate how the hell she was ever going to look Angel in his soppy brown eyes again.***
Lorne couldn't quite believe his eyes.
He stood with his yellow sleeves rolled up to the elbow, leaning against the doorway and essentially barring any intrusion the late night guest might attempt. Lorne let his body language do the talking, staring down his nose and refusing to budge, no matter how foolish an idea he thought it might be.
Actually, Lorne decided to revise the use of the word 'foolish'. 'Dangerous' might be a better one. There were, after all, very few creatures on this plain of existence that could barricade Angel from a place he wanted to be.
Angel.
The vampire stood there, covered in a thin sheen of rain and slightly sweaty from the exertion that comes from running for sixteen blocks, climbing fences, and evading irritated colleagues. Never the less, the vampire didn't seem remotely affected by his outward physical appearance, instead choosing to stand out in the hallway of Cordelia's apartment with a patient grin on his face, his hands clasped behind his back and looking for all the world like a dorky first date.
"Hello Lorne." He said, simply, "Is Cordelia home?"
Lorne sighed, "Okay, genius. What are you doing here?"
"I came to see Cordelia." Simple. Direct. Honest.
"You do know that your being here could probably make things worse, right?"
Angel shrugged. He had an excellent poker face, and if Lorne wasn't a demon then Angel may actually have managed to convince him that he wasn't a nervous wreck.
"It crossed my mind. Then it occured to me that the worse thing that could possibly happen was that Cordelia could avoid me forever and the Hyperion could blow up. And on both accounts, I'm halfway there, so if you'll excuse me..." He pushed past Lorne, nearly knocking him to the floor.
"What are you doing?"
"Trying to make things right."
"Hello? Do you remember earlier on this evening when I gave you your orders? I do damage control, and for your part, you don't do any more damage!"
"Yeah, actually - while we're on the subject, since when did you start giving orders?"
"Since earlier today when you became the total embodiment of tact, and the honourable Mr Wyndam-Pryce couldn't stop banging his head against one of my tables."
Angel grimaced at the memory. Sympathetically, Lorne tried to re-style Angel's hair for him, despite the vampire's half-assed squirming.
"I know she's here, I can smell her... Cordy?" He went to move towards the bedroom before it slammed shut in his face. It was probably the work of Dennis, but from Lorne's position he couldn't see whether it was actually Cordelia or not. Angel placed one hand on the door, with little pressure. He looked tired.
"Cordy! I want to talk to you!!" He sounded so tortured. A book flew into the back of his head, causing Angel to snarl involuntarily. Lorne flinched away, hands in air. Now that definitely was the work of Dennis.
"Cupcake, for your health and mine please leave. Until tomorrow at least."
Angel leaned against the wall, and slowly slid down until he was in a squatting position. Lorne didn't like the look of that. It looked determined - it looked like Angel wasn't going anywhere.
Angel wasn't looking at Lorne, and he wasn't looking at the bedroom door where Cordelia was hiding. He was staring longingly into space, the smallest smile on his face.
"I'm not an idiot. I know I have nothing to offer her... " he shook his head as he realised she was probably listening to him through the door, "Do you hear me Cordy? I don't have anything to offer you! That's why I couldn't - I wasn't going to - tell you how I felt. But if you think what I'm feeling isn't real, or that I'm going to try to force you into anything, then you're wrong. I need you Cordelia, we all do..."
It was back to staring into space again. Angel lowered his head and slowly let a drop of rain fall from a strand of hair and down his nose to his lips. He let it linger there for a moment, not even noticing it. Lorne crouched next to him. It was turning out to be a long, long night.
Angel sighed, and licked the drop of rain from his lips.
"I'll do it, Cordy. As soon as this spell is lifted, I'll keep my mouth shut - I'll never mention this again. I'll watch you grow older and marry someone else. Hell, I'll even babysit your kids for you - I'll let it tear me up inside until there's nothing left, because honestly? I'd rather have you as my best friend until one of us dies, then to not have you in my life at all. I can’t do this without you, and I don’t want to." Another drop of rain travelled down Angel's face, and irritated, he swiped at it again with his tongue. Lorne looked impressed.
"Well done. Nicely said, if not a little melodramatic. Must be the Manilow taking effect."
"That's why I don't like talking." Angel admitted. Lorne stood up and rolled his shoulders.
"I'm sorry, Angelcakes, but I'm wiped out. If you want to stay here and dig yourself a nice little grave, then be my guest. Just don't come singing to me when it all goes horribly wrong."
Angel didn't answer. He dug the heel of his hand into the side of his head like he was trying to pick up radio signals from a space station or something. Lorne patted him on the shoulder, and walked mournfully towards the front door. He didn't like the sound of the rain outside.
As he was about to leave, Lorne heard the familiar 'click' of a door unlocking. Angel jumped to his feet excitedly, and again clasped his hands behind his back, ever the dork. Cordelia stood in the bedroom doorway, clad in the same snug pair of black pyjamas that looked to Lorne all too much like Heaven. Cordelia sighed, and leaned against the door frame, evidently trying not to be amused by Angel's over-eager behaviour.
And Lorne knew she had finally figured it out.
It scares you when you find out someone you love hasn't been completely honest with you, but here she could see that it was still the same old Angel standing in her apartment. It wasn't a solution, but it was starting point - somewhere where Cordelia and Angel could probably come to a compromise, start rebuilding the tattered fragments of their friendship.
Either that, or -
Angel lunged towards Cordelia, and instinctively she leapt up into his arms, wrapped her to legs around his rain-soaked thighs and kissed him. Kissing was an understatement. Angel pushed her against the nearest wall and devoured her mouth, desperately trying to show her what he did have to offer her, letting her run warm fingers through his damp hair and down his neck, before she started picking furiously at his shirt buttons.
Lorne's jaw dropped, incapacitated momentarily by the sparks of lust that flew between the two people and the sheer audacity of them, dry-humping against a wall before his very eyes after all the hell they had put him through that night. He'd demand an apology, but Lorne knew he wouldn't be getting one that night.
Silently, Lorne took a step backwards, and Dennis obliged by opening the front door for him as a subtle hint. Angel didn't even notice. Cupping Cordelia's face, he mentally willed his hands not to wander around her body and unceremoniously grope the woman he loved. She was worth so much more then that... even if she was doing that thing with her tongue that was slowly driving him insane. He felt the palms of his hands starts to inch their way down her neck...
Eyes still bugging, Lorne let himself out.
Part 5The Hyperion Hotel was much closer to Cordelia’s apartment than Caritas was.
Lorne shuddered his way into the lobby, rubbing his tired eyes like he was trying to erase a particularly disturbing mental image and mumbling something about needing a Seabreeze.
It seemed to Lorne that Wesley was the only one still awake by now. He was slouched in his office, doting over a dusty old tome from days of yore. Lorne wondered if Wesley even noticed he’d entered the room.
“Something the matter, Lorne?” He asked, halfheartedly. Okay, so maybe he had.
When Lorne didn’t immediately answer, Wesley lifted his head to find him leaning against the door frame and still looking slightly spooked.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Did you have a run-in with Angel?”
Lorne winced, “The less said of the Grande Poobah right now, the better. Don’t suppose you happened upon any ‘memory erasing’ spells in that big ol’ book of yours?”
“No... I, um.” Wes glanced at the book in his hands, and then up at Lorne again, “This happens to be one of the very rare ancient volumes of D’nish. It documents past activities of some of the more powerful Shamans - and to that end, states that the spell cast on Angel should, hopefully, wear off in less then 24 hours.” Wes leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms over his head, almost cockily. “It’s a rare volume indeed. One of the ones from my ‘private’ collection.”
A huge sense of relief washed over Lorne’s body - soon, oh-so-soon, the nightmare would be over. He could get back to running his club, and he could put this whole sorry mess behind him. Suddenly exhausted, Lorne perched on the corner of Wes’ desk and rubbed his tense neck muscles before something in the book caught his eye. Cautiously, he leaned towards the page for a closer inspection.
“Private collection, huh? Then why does it have “Property of the Watcher’s Council of Great Britain” stamped in the corner?” Lorne glared at Wesley, “You didn’t steal this book, did you?”
Wes smiled to himself, “’Stealing’ is a filthy habit, Lorne. This book is what you might call ‘severance pay’.”
What? Now Wesley was a klepto? Lorne closed his eyes and hung his head. He was learning more things tonight then he ever wanted to know. He pushed himself off the desk and turned to face Wesley, his chair still tilted at an arrogant angle.
“Forget it. Don’t ever tell me, lest my brain reject the information and reboot itself.” Lorne shrugged off Wesley’s confused look, “Think you could spare a lift home for a poor suffering lounge singer, my petite pois?”***
Vampires were supposed to be graceful.
With Cordelia locked firmly around his midriff, Angel had managed to maneuver them both in the general direction of the bed. Of course, with his shoes still rain soaked and slippy he had skidded most of the way, and he might have banged his head a couple of times on the door frame, but he barely even noticed. He was entranced with the idea of leaving a hickey along that tempting sweep of her neck, placed somewhere subtly between her pulse point and that perfect nub of bone at the top of vertebrate. Somewhere, preferably, where Cordelia wouldn’t even notice. He liked that idea.
Angel scanned the room. Cordelia’s bed was already fairly messed up, with the quilt lying in an unceremonious heap at the foot of the mattress. Carelessly, Angel tossed her onto the offending bed, and pounced - knocking the wind out of her whilst pinning her to the bed at the same time.
“Enthusiastic, much?” She choked out, gasping a little for air.
Angel smiled. He raised himself up so he had an arm on either side of Cordy's head to support his upper body, making sure he didn't crush her with his weight. Well, there was still something to be said about vampire stamina. Angel concluded that he could quite happily have remained in that position all night, taunting her, trading off control with his eyes. Slowly, he began a small pilgrimage down her face, carefully nipping firstly at her hairline, down her forehead, over her nose and finally at her soft lips, where she caught him and kissed him hard on the mouth with no finesse or caution.
She was so warm, and soft and... Womanly. That’s what Angel’s loved most about women - they were nicely shaped, and Cordelia was the caricature of his ideal woman. Experimentally, he rocked his groin into the cradle of her hips, and was pleased with the resulting gasp that ensued.
Unconsciously, Cordelia had begun to squirm beneath him, her body trying to connect with as much of Angel as possible. She moaned in the halfhearted way people do when they get distracted by sex, and ran her fingernails down his back sheerly for the benefit of feeling his taut muscles.
Suddenly, Angel wanted to high-five something. He did it! He had actually got the girl!
Giddy, Angel slowed their kisses until they were nothing more then innocent pecks on the lips, and then he pulled away altogether.
“Can I say it?” He whispered, “I want to be the one that says it first.”
Cordelia smiled brilliantly, causing Angel’s stomach to flip-flop slightly.
“I love you.” He admitted.
“I know. And who could blame you?” Angel growled indignantly and kissed her hard, silently demanding that she stopped goofing around and please just say it.
She pulled away, sucking in a much needed mouthful of air.
“I love you too, by the way.”
Angel smiled that special flirtatious smile. The one he reserved especially for Cordy-filled occasions.
“Oh really?” He inquired.
“Duh. Very much so.”
Angel found a spot behind her ear that made her squeal unexpectedly, and latched onto it. Just beneath the surface of her skin he could taste her blood pumping erratically. It only made him moan in torment and suckle harder, trying to ignore those wiggling hips that were starting to grind against his, causing a delightful pressure and drawing out hot sensations he hadn't felt for a long time. Too long.
Cordelia's eyes were tightly screwed shut. Angel lifted his head to get a better view of a woman's face contorted in desire, probably unaware of what her hips were doing to him. He felt a familiar feeling rising in him, stronger and stronger... If he wasn’t careful, he was going to embarrass himself.
...oh. Oh GOD...
He pushed himself off Cordelia, and leaned back to sit on his ankles, his hands stilling the movement of her hips. Cordelia looked annoyed.
"Uh, hel-LO? Almost naked here! Sex now?"
Angel couldn't hold back his smile. Cordelia raised herself up onto her elbows, on the pinnacle of anger and horniness that had her practically vibrating in Angel's hands. He rubbed slow, deliberate circles through the fabric on her hips with his thumb, teasing her.
"Sorry." He said simply.
Realisation dawned on her. "Oh yeah. Right. The curse."
The cur-? Angel snorted, absolutely delighted to find he'd forgotten all about that curse. "Actually, I’ve been meaning to have a talk with you about that."
"Umm, excuse me...?"
Angel leaned back over her, trailing his lips over the ‘V’ of exposed skin above her pajama top. His hands found the perfect shape of her breasts easily, and began to work the tight nipples with expert hands, drawing long gasping breaths from the woman he loved.
“It was taken care of a long, long time ago. Just forget it.”
“Angel?” She gasped.
“Mm-hm?”
"What was taken care of a long time ago-oooo...?"
Angel routinely ignored her, and began tugging at the top button of her pajamas. The sooner she was undressed, the better. His tongue darted out and met with the undeniable sensation of sweet salty skin, and the faintest taste of tangerines. "Mmm, you taste so sweet."
"Don't avoid the question."
"I'm not avoiding the question, I'm just so distracted." His head shot up in immediate curiousity, "What is this perfume you're wearing, anyway?"
Frustrated, Cordelia pushed Angel off her and leapt to her feet, away from wandering hands. Her stance was typically Queen C in every way, her legs standing hip-width apart, arms folded and eyes blazing defiantly.
"I asked you about your Gypsy Curse, mister. You say you 'took care of it'. How?"
Suddenly, Angel felt very embarrassed. Oh no... Not now. Please, not now.
“After Darla... The Powers, they didn’t want anymore... Uh, accidents...”
“What do you mean, accidents?” A horrible thought occurred to Cordelia, “Oh no! You slept with Darla!”
Angel clamped a hand over his mouth. Oh no! Not now! Nononono! Damn that truth spell! His face told Cordelia all she needed to know.
“You totally slept with that skank! You lied to me!”
Angel sat up on the bed and reached out for her, his panic escalating.
“I was lonely and desperate! I love you!!”
“You. Slept. With. Her.” Cordelia reiterated, as if he didn’t already get it.
“It was an accident.”
“Stop saying that! Angel, dropping a glass of water is an accident. Firing your three only friends because you want to bang your ex-girlfriend is just a big pile of premeditated crap. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“There was never a right time.”
“Pfft!” She pfft’d. What a jerk.
“If it wasn’t for Darla... She was the one that taught me how much I needed you. I love you. You know I love you.” Angel’s words were rushed. They had to be, in a conversation with Cordelia. She was a master of conversationalism, you had to be quick to get a word in edgeways.
“You should go sleep with Buffy. Maybe she could teach you how much you respect me.” Cordelia shouted.
Angel looked hurt.
“It was in the past. I love you - and if nothing else, you know I’m telling the truth now.” Surely, she remembered the truth spell? Couldn’t she see what she was doing to him? Angel shook his head. Or maybe it was what he was doing to her. “Lorne was right, you need some time to think about it. I’m sorry. I’ll leave you alone.”
Angel rose to his feet and headed towards the door. If he was going to do something stupid like cry, he’d rather do it in the privacy of his own sewer tunnels, thank you.
“Now where the hell are you going?” Cordelia demanded.
Angel stopped in his tracks. “Um, the hotel?”
“After admitting you love me, the hell you are! Get back on the bed, you jerk!!”
Slowly, Angel moved back to the bed, and lowered himself onto the mattress.
Cordelia looked furiously stunning. A tornado of pissy, sarcastic rage - and drop dead sexy to boot. "Right!" She said, stamping towards the sufficiently rumpled bed sheets, "This is just perfect!"
She yanked at each of the buttons, tearing one off in the process "This is just fucking PERFECT! Y’know, I always knew the ‘Seer’ gig would be difficult. Nobody bothered to warn me about this, y’know?…"
The black material floated to the floor, revealing flawlessly tanned skin. Cordelia began to work at the back string that tied around her hips and held her black pajama pants in place whilst Angel caught unneeded breath, madly aroused. Quickly, he began unbuckling his belt and getting undressed himself.
"’File this, Cordy’. ‘Answer the phones, Cordy’. ‘Be bait, get impregnated with demon spawn and have migraine after shattering migraine, Cordy’. ‘Do this Cordy.’ ‘Do that.’ ‘Pick up the dry-cleaning and don’t forget to suffer night after night of unbearable sexual tension with the ol’ boss, Cordy.’... Grr! You’re such a jerk!”
She pulled down her underwear and the pajama bottoms at the same time, exposing her full body. Before she could even hope to continue with her vitriolic rampage, she found her self swooped up in vampiric speed and pinned to the bed again. Angel silenced her with an attack of the mouth, letting strong hands roam her warm and smooth skin in unabashed exploration.
She felt, rather than heard, the deep-throat purr as he ravaged her tongue. Angel felt it - perfect bliss. He could feel it completely for the first time, without that painful, pit-of-stomach tearing that comes with getting your soul yanked out of your body. He studied the taste of her mouth, finally concluding that it was a faint cross between Belgian chocolate and rich brandy, which made a certain kind of sense because Cordelia always did have a predilection for the finer things in life.
Oooh, God. Sweetjesusmaryandjoseph, her body was this beautiful, solid weight beneath him; she was slowly driving him mad.
“Inside. Now.” Were the two simple words Cordelia could manage, her voice so waveringly not-calm that it sounded like she going to burst into tears at any minute. Angel knew how she felt. Months of denial and attraction and pain were folding in on themselves.
Carefully, Angel positioned himself, and with a sweet kiss on the lips, he pushed inside. The resistance eased and opened and he was in, gasping at the sensation. She was almost painfully tight inside, and Angel had to pause for a minute to take a few unnecessary breaths. This was what Cordelia was made for. It was like fucking slick velvet. He thrust in until he was fully sheathed, gripping Cordelia’s slender hips, panting against the nape of her neck and trying to resist the urge to pound in hard.
He didn't remember sex being this much hard work, as it was his nerve endings were fried and he honestly didn't think he could hold off his orgasm for much longer.
He pulled out of her again, and slowly slid back in. She was so warm too. Hot and wet, and perfect.
He nuzzled into the crook of her collarbone and planted a sweet little kiss there. Did she want gentle? He could be gentle. He moved slowly, building up a subtle rhythm.
Impatiently, Cordelia rocked her hips.
Oh, right. Faster then?
Angel growled affectionately and kissed her again, hard enough to force her head back into the pillow. Cordelia moaned softly as he picked up the pace, keeping a steady rhythm that was slowly driving her insane. Already he could feel her hips moving with him, desperately guiding him to exactly the right spot where she wanted him to go. Her hands, those same wonderfully warm hands that had been touching and caressing every solid inch of muscle that she could get her horny little hands on relinquished his body and flew her own. Quite happily she fingered her clit, her moans getting lost in one another until, a little annoyed, Angel grabbed her wrists and forced her hands back to where they had been on his body.
Oh, that did it. He was going to make her scream now.
Angel’s index finger trailed down her rib cage teasingly, and wondered onto the plane of her stomach. He let it linger there momentarily, but it reached it’s final destination and began pinching. Cordelia gasped and arched off the bed.
Arching. That was a good sign.
"Do you like that?" Angel whispered innocently against Cordelia’s ear. He rocked gently, teasing her with slow thrusts that completely negated his faux-innocence, before losing himself in the rhythm of it, the push and glide and sweat, until Cordelia was breathless, and could barely managed the words; "Now... please, now..."
“Oh Goddd.. Angel! Yesthereohohhhhhhh... OHHH!” As she came, she lost complete control of herself. She was almost feral, thrashing and begging and swearing like she was chaos theory incarnate, and Angel felt her already tight internal muscles milk him. He watched her, fascinated and uncontrollably aroused at the same time. The weight of his body held her in place as she rode out the waves of a vicious orgasm, and Angel almost lost it.
Still he moved. The growling was almost completely unconscious.
Angel felt his hips pounding into her, aching and frenzied from months of wanting and needing something he thought he could never have. He felt like something primal was taking over, but it wasn’t - not really. What Angel could feel was the last of his resolve breaking away with every broken sentence, every stuttered confession of love and every sharp hitch of breath. It was the way she clawed at his shoulders and bit and licked beneath him, tugging his hair, pulling his lips to hers with furious, hungry kisses that made his heart hurt. Cordelia knew how to undo him.
Below him Cordelia was moving again - more fluidly this time, as another sweeping orgasm threatened to rise up and consume her, all the time completely unaware that the part of Angel he had tried so hard to lock away was taking what little freedom it could get. His movements became like that of an animal - desperate and selfish, contained in his own little world of ecstasy.
That was his cue to let go completely, riding Cordelia roughly and practically roaring with the effort. Selfish words fell out of his mouth of their own accord: he told her she was his, his and only his. He wanted to keep it that way. No one else could touch her.
Finally, with a pain-racked “Cord-eeliaaaaaaaaa...” He came.
Or more accurately, he exploded inside of her, feeling himself being torn apart by something more explosive then love or lust, and pieced back together by the tender caress of his lover’s fingers through his hair. Cordy talked him down through the small shocks that spiked through him as he slumped into her arms, and she whispered irrelevant words. Angel’s brain was frazzled, and for a couple of moments the words didn’t seem to make any sense, but he sure responded to that sweet tone of voice. She sounded so loving that his heart began to melt all over again.
As quickly as it had blurred, the world came back into focus. Angel lifted his head and teasingly nipped at Cordelia’s shoulder with blunt teeth. She giggled, provoking a bigger smile from the man in her arms.
“Hello.” He said simply, and rolled over next to Cordy so he could gather her up in his arms and filch her body heat. She willingly obliged, entangling her legs with his and snuggling into a broad shoulder, far too sleepy to argue.
“I’m sorry for everything I’ve put you through.” Lovingly, Angel began to stroke Cordelia’s hair and wrap small brown strands around his fingers, marvelling at the smoothness of it. “I’m never, ever going to lie to you again.”
“Good.” She muttered, “Because I’d hate to have to kick your ass.”
He chuckled. It was almost dawn, and they were both exhausted. Angel decided to let her have the last word for once.The End
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