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Jul. 30th, 2006 02:48 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
samsomTitle: Real
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Angel doesn't have the luxury of being anything more than a friend.
Spoilers: None
Notes: I'm always writing from Angel's pov so I thought I'd try to get in Cordy's head.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
FB and concrit are always welcome.
REAL
Another life and death fight, another dark alley. Thrown against Angel’s body during the death throes of yet another gross, slimy demon, Cordelia becomes suddenly conscious of the hard thigh she straddled as he lay under her, the chest she pushes against muscled and firm beneath her hands, like cool marble.
He hesitated for just the slightest second, hands still on her hips, and an ache flared to life where her flesh was pressed to his thigh. She savors the contact for one long moment before rolling off with a nervous laugh.
~~
Later that night, she wakes up twisted in the sheets with nipples tightened to sensitive points and a damp ache between her legs, some half-remembered dream making her heart trip in her chest.
The next day at work, she sits at her desk and scrolls through the demon database, searching for a particular set of identifying marks for an older case they couldn’t solve. Angel moves past her desk and her eyes track him, doing a slow crawl across his broad shoulders.
Later on, he leans in too close over her shoulder while she points to what she unearthed and she catches the scent of his cologne, and draws in a deeper than needed breath.
He pauses for a beat before continuing his theory.
~~
At three in the morning, Cordelia lies and stares at her ceiling in the darkness of her bedroom. She aches, a throb between her thighs that prevents her from sleeping. She doesn’t really want to touch herself, but can’t think of any other way to gain some relief and finally, she just does.
Five minutes later she orgasms, but it doesn’t satisfy her.
~~
When Angel calls her into his office, she’s reluctant to go but he’s impatient, so she grabs her notebook and pen, praying he won’t be able to sense anything.
Pulling a chair up next to his, she watches as he reads from an old tome, jotting down the appropriate information, but she’s drawn to his forefinger as it keeps his place on the tiny script, watches as it smoothes down the vellum, and wonders suddenly, how it would feel running that same motion down her spine.
She shivers slightly, and he spares a glance at her.
“Everything okay?” He asks, all business.
“Umhmm,” she nods, afraid to speak. He blinks once and goes back to the book.
She wonders what was keeping Wes. There couldn’t be that many old bookstores in LA that carry talisman made from dragons bones.
She doesn’t want to be alone with Angel anymore. She can’t trust her feelings, can’t trust her body to behave within smelling distance of a vampire who can’t have sex.
She gets up, excusing herself to go to the bathroom.
~~
When she comes out, he’s standing right outside the door and she jumps a foot.
“Crap! Angel, you scared me!”
He just looks at her with unblinking, unreadable eyes.
“Cordelia,” he begins, “it’s obvious something’s wrong-“
She ducks her head, not wanting to look at him. She’s frustrated and still aroused from last night’s half assed attempt at self-gratification, and she prays for death because any second he’s going to become aware of the state she’s in, and she’d rather be shoveling shit in a ditch in the worst part of hell than have to see the instant rejection in his face.
Because it wouldn’t be about the curse.
It would be about Buffy and how no one was ever going to compare to her or the soul-stealing sex that she inspired.
“I’m fine.” She smiles at him but he doesn’t buy it, frowning at her like some school teacher who just caught her doing something wrong, but didn’t know what.
“If you need to talk,” he offers.
“Nothing’s wrong Angel. It’s just-“she pauses and thinks, “It’s been a while since I went out with the girls, had a good time. I might call them up, go out clubbing.”
She thought he’d be okay with that, smile and accept her reasoning, but his frown only deepens. He blinks and looks away, and when he glances back, he looks slightly pissed, jaw clenching.
“Have a good time in what way?” He makes his question into an accusation and she doesn’t like the tone of it.
“Well, in the way that you wouldn’t know anything about since you chomped on a gypsy girl back in the powered wig days,” she snaps back. She regrets it instantly, watches his face close up, but doesn’t take it back.
She walks back to her desk without another word.
He doesn’t say anything else to her the rest of the evening.
At nine, she closes her notes and stands up with her purse.
“Wes, I won't be in tomorrow morning.” She says loud enough for Angel to hear, then leaves before Wes can question her.
~~
She stumbles in the hallway of her building, half drunk on margaritas. She thought it might numb her a little, but the throbbing in her body worsened with each glass. The guys at the clubs were eager to help her with her unspoken problem but she found something wrong with every one of them.
One was too short, and one was blonde. Another dressed too brightly. The last one smiled too much.
When she realized she was comparing them to Angel, she sobered up enough to call a cab home, telling her friends she was partied out.
Now the damn lock kept moving whenever she went near it with the key and she had to steady herself with one hand braced against the wall next to her door because the floor kept trying to pull her down.
A hand clamped over her mouth.
She takes a deep breath to scream but is hauled back against a hard body, another arm clamping across her ribs.
A voice shushes her and it sounds so much like Angel she relaxes in his grip.
But before she can turn in his arms, he’s opening her door and shoving her inside, holding her to keep her from falling.
A kaleidoscope of her walls and furniture spin by and then Cordelia finds herself face down on the couch, her coat stripped from her body in one motion.
She shuts her eyes against the spinning room as big chilly hands run up her legs, smoothing over her stockings and raising the back of her skirt.
There’s a mouth traveling over her shoulder, up her neck to stop at her ear.
“Is this what you went out looking for, Cordelia?”
One hand reaches between her legs and cups her mound. Shock sobers her just a little, warring with the alcohol hazing everything into a dream-like state, but she feels the fingers rub against the cotton of her panties, and it sets a violent fluttering in her womb, uncontrollable, and she feels herself getting impossibly wet before the hand disappears.
Her panties are lowered midthigh and a body slips between her open legs, the hand stealing back up under her pelvis, fingers slicking through her folds, spearing her. Cordelia’s eyes open wide and she rocks against the sensation, hips driving into the cushions as his thumb rubs her clitoris. Another hand scrapes her shirt up, dragging her lace-covered bra with it before cupping one breast, fingers rolling over her nipple, creating a pulling sensation between her breast and clitoris.
His erection rides the cleft of her ass, and she arches into his hardness, thrusting up and then down, feeling the pressure build up in her body, rocketing towards orgasm.
Then his hand comes up from her breasts to her mouth, muffling her throaty moans, and she slips his thumb in her mouth, sucking hard on the skin. She hears him panting in her ear.
The fingers in her cleft work her like an instrument, coaxing her flesh to give up more, spreading her wetness before gliding over her folds, every stroke like lightning striking.
Then it seizes her, breaking like a star bursting, the contractions strong from her clit to her womb, muscles clenching his fingers as she screams into the palm of his hand, dying inside.
He rides it out, rubs her clit in long sweeps to bring her down, calm her gently. The alcohol is pulling her under to a dreamless sleep as he pulls his fingers out of her.
She lifts her head to the side and the last thing she sees before she’s pulled under for the last time is Angel kneeling by the couch, sucking his fingers into his mouth, tasting her as he skewers her with eyes still hungry, still restless.
~~
The next day, Cordelia stays mostly at her desk, feeling the disturbing blend of an achy head and a satiated body.
Thinks it was a dream but then isn’t so sure.
Images assail her, threaten her equilibrium but she fakes it pretty good.
But all the while she listens for his footsteps.
When she comes back from lunch, he’s sitting at his desk, staring at the scroll he stole from Wolfram & Hart.
She clears her throat delicately and he looks up.
“Cordelia, good, come in here and take some notes while Wesley translates. I’ve got a meeting in half an hour with an informant.”
His voice is distant again and she freezes for a second before shaking off the disappointment.
Of course it wasn’t real, she thinks.
He stands and pulls on his coat, pausing as he passes her.
“Is everything okay? Did you have a good night?”
She glances sharply at him, but doesn’t see anything in his face but the concern of a friend.
“Yes, it was good,” she replies punitively as she picks up her notebook and pens, moving to walk around him.
“Good.” He whispers.
The edge of his coat brushes the bare skin of her upper arm.
She shivers but doesn’t look back.
~~end~~
Did ya ever have the feeling you're writing the same thing over and over again?
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Angel doesn't have the luxury of being anything more than a friend.
Spoilers: None
Notes: I'm always writing from Angel's pov so I thought I'd try to get in Cordy's head.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
FB and concrit are always welcome.
REAL
Another life and death fight, another dark alley. Thrown against Angel’s body during the death throes of yet another gross, slimy demon, Cordelia becomes suddenly conscious of the hard thigh she straddled as he lay under her, the chest she pushes against muscled and firm beneath her hands, like cool marble.
He hesitated for just the slightest second, hands still on her hips, and an ache flared to life where her flesh was pressed to his thigh. She savors the contact for one long moment before rolling off with a nervous laugh.
~~
Later that night, she wakes up twisted in the sheets with nipples tightened to sensitive points and a damp ache between her legs, some half-remembered dream making her heart trip in her chest.
The next day at work, she sits at her desk and scrolls through the demon database, searching for a particular set of identifying marks for an older case they couldn’t solve. Angel moves past her desk and her eyes track him, doing a slow crawl across his broad shoulders.
Later on, he leans in too close over her shoulder while she points to what she unearthed and she catches the scent of his cologne, and draws in a deeper than needed breath.
He pauses for a beat before continuing his theory.
~~
At three in the morning, Cordelia lies and stares at her ceiling in the darkness of her bedroom. She aches, a throb between her thighs that prevents her from sleeping. She doesn’t really want to touch herself, but can’t think of any other way to gain some relief and finally, she just does.
Five minutes later she orgasms, but it doesn’t satisfy her.
~~
When Angel calls her into his office, she’s reluctant to go but he’s impatient, so she grabs her notebook and pen, praying he won’t be able to sense anything.
Pulling a chair up next to his, she watches as he reads from an old tome, jotting down the appropriate information, but she’s drawn to his forefinger as it keeps his place on the tiny script, watches as it smoothes down the vellum, and wonders suddenly, how it would feel running that same motion down her spine.
She shivers slightly, and he spares a glance at her.
“Everything okay?” He asks, all business.
“Umhmm,” she nods, afraid to speak. He blinks once and goes back to the book.
She wonders what was keeping Wes. There couldn’t be that many old bookstores in LA that carry talisman made from dragons bones.
She doesn’t want to be alone with Angel anymore. She can’t trust her feelings, can’t trust her body to behave within smelling distance of a vampire who can’t have sex.
She gets up, excusing herself to go to the bathroom.
~~
When she comes out, he’s standing right outside the door and she jumps a foot.
“Crap! Angel, you scared me!”
He just looks at her with unblinking, unreadable eyes.
“Cordelia,” he begins, “it’s obvious something’s wrong-“
She ducks her head, not wanting to look at him. She’s frustrated and still aroused from last night’s half assed attempt at self-gratification, and she prays for death because any second he’s going to become aware of the state she’s in, and she’d rather be shoveling shit in a ditch in the worst part of hell than have to see the instant rejection in his face.
Because it wouldn’t be about the curse.
It would be about Buffy and how no one was ever going to compare to her or the soul-stealing sex that she inspired.
“I’m fine.” She smiles at him but he doesn’t buy it, frowning at her like some school teacher who just caught her doing something wrong, but didn’t know what.
“If you need to talk,” he offers.
“Nothing’s wrong Angel. It’s just-“she pauses and thinks, “It’s been a while since I went out with the girls, had a good time. I might call them up, go out clubbing.”
She thought he’d be okay with that, smile and accept her reasoning, but his frown only deepens. He blinks and looks away, and when he glances back, he looks slightly pissed, jaw clenching.
“Have a good time in what way?” He makes his question into an accusation and she doesn’t like the tone of it.
“Well, in the way that you wouldn’t know anything about since you chomped on a gypsy girl back in the powered wig days,” she snaps back. She regrets it instantly, watches his face close up, but doesn’t take it back.
She walks back to her desk without another word.
He doesn’t say anything else to her the rest of the evening.
At nine, she closes her notes and stands up with her purse.
“Wes, I won't be in tomorrow morning.” She says loud enough for Angel to hear, then leaves before Wes can question her.
~~
She stumbles in the hallway of her building, half drunk on margaritas. She thought it might numb her a little, but the throbbing in her body worsened with each glass. The guys at the clubs were eager to help her with her unspoken problem but she found something wrong with every one of them.
One was too short, and one was blonde. Another dressed too brightly. The last one smiled too much.
When she realized she was comparing them to Angel, she sobered up enough to call a cab home, telling her friends she was partied out.
Now the damn lock kept moving whenever she went near it with the key and she had to steady herself with one hand braced against the wall next to her door because the floor kept trying to pull her down.
A hand clamped over her mouth.
She takes a deep breath to scream but is hauled back against a hard body, another arm clamping across her ribs.
A voice shushes her and it sounds so much like Angel she relaxes in his grip.
But before she can turn in his arms, he’s opening her door and shoving her inside, holding her to keep her from falling.
A kaleidoscope of her walls and furniture spin by and then Cordelia finds herself face down on the couch, her coat stripped from her body in one motion.
She shuts her eyes against the spinning room as big chilly hands run up her legs, smoothing over her stockings and raising the back of her skirt.
There’s a mouth traveling over her shoulder, up her neck to stop at her ear.
“Is this what you went out looking for, Cordelia?”
One hand reaches between her legs and cups her mound. Shock sobers her just a little, warring with the alcohol hazing everything into a dream-like state, but she feels the fingers rub against the cotton of her panties, and it sets a violent fluttering in her womb, uncontrollable, and she feels herself getting impossibly wet before the hand disappears.
Her panties are lowered midthigh and a body slips between her open legs, the hand stealing back up under her pelvis, fingers slicking through her folds, spearing her. Cordelia’s eyes open wide and she rocks against the sensation, hips driving into the cushions as his thumb rubs her clitoris. Another hand scrapes her shirt up, dragging her lace-covered bra with it before cupping one breast, fingers rolling over her nipple, creating a pulling sensation between her breast and clitoris.
His erection rides the cleft of her ass, and she arches into his hardness, thrusting up and then down, feeling the pressure build up in her body, rocketing towards orgasm.
Then his hand comes up from her breasts to her mouth, muffling her throaty moans, and she slips his thumb in her mouth, sucking hard on the skin. She hears him panting in her ear.
The fingers in her cleft work her like an instrument, coaxing her flesh to give up more, spreading her wetness before gliding over her folds, every stroke like lightning striking.
Then it seizes her, breaking like a star bursting, the contractions strong from her clit to her womb, muscles clenching his fingers as she screams into the palm of his hand, dying inside.
He rides it out, rubs her clit in long sweeps to bring her down, calm her gently. The alcohol is pulling her under to a dreamless sleep as he pulls his fingers out of her.
She lifts her head to the side and the last thing she sees before she’s pulled under for the last time is Angel kneeling by the couch, sucking his fingers into his mouth, tasting her as he skewers her with eyes still hungry, still restless.
~~
The next day, Cordelia stays mostly at her desk, feeling the disturbing blend of an achy head and a satiated body.
Thinks it was a dream but then isn’t so sure.
Images assail her, threaten her equilibrium but she fakes it pretty good.
But all the while she listens for his footsteps.
When she comes back from lunch, he’s sitting at his desk, staring at the scroll he stole from Wolfram & Hart.
She clears her throat delicately and he looks up.
“Cordelia, good, come in here and take some notes while Wesley translates. I’ve got a meeting in half an hour with an informant.”
His voice is distant again and she freezes for a second before shaking off the disappointment.
Of course it wasn’t real, she thinks.
He stands and pulls on his coat, pausing as he passes her.
“Is everything okay? Did you have a good night?”
She glances sharply at him, but doesn’t see anything in his face but the concern of a friend.
“Yes, it was good,” she replies punitively as she picks up her notebook and pens, moving to walk around him.
“Good.” He whispers.
The edge of his coat brushes the bare skin of her upper arm.
She shivers but doesn’t look back.
~~end~~
Did ya ever have the feeling you're writing the same thing over and over again?
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-07-30 02:26 pm (UTC)So so so very hot- and the thread of poignancy thru it ...yup, it KILLS MEEE! *sob*
* I think I loff you*
*licks*
no subject
Date: 2006-07-30 02:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-30 07:59 pm (UTC)Why yes, yes it is. Is it working?
::grins::
I'm glad you like it.
no subject
Date: 2006-07-30 03:18 pm (UTC)Nice job, baby ... very, very nice!
no subject
Date: 2006-07-30 08:06 pm (UTC)::pauses::
::resists - mightily - the urge to ask about the c/a fic you're writing::
I'm verra happy the hot worked for you, although I can't imagine it being as good as the Cream of Chrislee yumminess that's, um, coming.
Heh.
no subject
Date: 2006-07-30 03:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-30 08:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-30 04:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-30 08:13 pm (UTC)And it was real, but not, ya know?
no subject
Date: 2006-07-30 09:02 pm (UTC)it is your mission in life to KILL MEEE, remember? followed by the obsessive need to have C/A go at it like rabbits.
kthx, *shmooshies*
no subject
Date: 2006-07-30 09:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-30 09:33 pm (UTC)I am gonna want it from his side now, you know that right? *is ebul*
oh and this little Gem is def going with the rest at GT *tucks it away and waits for it to get more loff first*
Muwahahahahaha..... *runs away quick*
And yus, I am on the pills of In-My-Own_Freaky-World again
no subject
Date: 2006-07-31 06:49 am (UTC)Yeah, he wasn't happy with her trolling for other guys, even though he's sure he can't give her what they both want.
no subject
Date: 2006-07-31 12:58 pm (UTC)Wonderful, as usual! Adoring the Cordelia POV. Am putting this in my memories. :)
no subject
Date: 2006-07-31 02:25 pm (UTC)Thank you. I don't think I've ever been put in somone's memories before. I'm glad you liked it, especially since I know C/A isn't your cuppa.
And congradulations on the graduation, btw.
no subject
Date: 2006-07-31 08:36 pm (UTC)wow.
no subject
Date: 2006-08-01 06:11 am (UTC)Thanks!
no subject
Date: 2006-08-01 06:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-01 02:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-03 12:36 pm (UTC)I only discovered your latest gem now. Think I should definitely come to your lj more often.
I know I've said it before - don't know where exactly - but I adore your Angel, all experienced, dark, strong man. And the Cordy POV worked wonderfully. You must have found a very nice spot in her head. :D
no subject
Date: 2006-08-04 03:25 am (UTC)She was talking to me one night:)
all experienced, dark, strong man
That's mostly how I see him. Whenever I try and write him dorky - even though I adored dork!Angel at times - he always turns dark on me.
Thanks so much for the niceness - after the last couple of days I had, it was so great to get this.
no subject
Date: 2006-08-04 02:57 am (UTC)but what i did want to address is that i love this: It would be about Buffy and how no one was ever going to compare to her or the soul-stealing sex that she inspired.
that's why, despite loving the Cordy/Angel IDEA, that i accept it could never work, and simultaneously wouldn't actually want it to HAPPEN. because, as my friend hannah put to me before i really understood the C/A thing, "You can't do that to Cordelia. Buffy can have sex with other people, Angel can have sex with other people. But he can't have sex with Cordelia, because she is not 'other people'."
because you can't have it both ways. if they did have sex, and could continue to do so with no ill consequences, that means that she's "not as special/important" as Buffy, which cheapens it, and really is unfair to her. but if she DID, then, well, he's evil, and that sucks, so again, not desirable.
so despite feeling incredibly shafted by the way they wrapped it up, they kinda couldn't've done it any other way. going that half-step more would've fucked something up royally.
did i mention i liked this? :op
no subject
Date: 2006-08-04 04:06 am (UTC)Second, what didn't you want to talk about? Because I'd still love to hear it - I love to talk:P
Thirdly, you've pretty much articulated one of the most frustrating things about shipping this pair. Cordelia Chase is never the runner up - when I first started online it was right after Ats started and I read more than one fic that had Angel turning to Cordy for comfort, but still soulfully intact and loving Buffy.
No matter how well written, I could never - what's the word? - lose myself in the narrative because in the back of my head, there's a voice going 'OOC!' and that was before I knew the term or what it meant. Cordy wouldn't allow herself to be used that way, and after spending a week in her company, Angel would never consider using her like that. You're right, it cheapens her and makes him a total dick.
Which is why not touching her is both frustrating to me as a person who would love to see more physicality between them, and gratifying to the shipper in me because it proved that he loved her. Because he couldn't touch her.
But Angel is a vampire who makes decisions for the women in his life, and I could see him doing something like what I wrote - touching her but denying it ever happened, even to himself. Especially to her. Whether she'd put up with it after the first time - I doubt it, but I'm not gonna stop writing it because that line is what I love to explore.
I'm with you on the total fuck up of how it ended - there were about a thousand different ways to go with them, but the way they chose was about the wrongest of the wrong. But I am sort of glad for the 'unconsummated' aspect of the ship, because it keeps the possibilities open and that's better than 'consummated/boring' which is Joss's way of thinking, I think.
But thanks again for commenting, I loved what you said!
no subject
Date: 2006-08-21 11:45 am (UTC)So wrapped up in emotions, and so REAL. A perfect title. Sam, you're amazing. I wish I could get inside someone's head quite as naturally as you just did with Cordy.
And your Angel? Whew! Too hot for words. I'm sorry for not being more... coherent, by I'm stunned into speechlessness. It's teh hotness! Now I need more fics from you (and I've already spotted Eternity My Way and it's sequel). You made my day=)))
no subject
Date: 2006-08-22 06:07 am (UTC)Sigh.
I love my 'ship.
no subject
Date: 2006-08-22 06:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-28 04:20 pm (UTC)But yes, I can see how this would hit certain kinks...it hit some of mine and I don't even ship C/A. *g* But there you have it- reserved, slightly dark Angel; frustrated Cordy (and when I say frustrated, I don't necessarily mean sexually, although there is an element of that, too)
And beautiful passages, too:
“Have a good time in what way?” He makes his question into an accusation and she doesn’t like the tone of it.
“Well, in the way that you wouldn’t know anything about since you chomped on a gypsy girl back in the powered wig days,” she snaps back. She regrets it instantly, watches his face close up, but doesn’t take it back.
I loved this- so in character for both of them.
and ...Angel kneeling by the couch, sucking his fingers into his mouth, tasting her as he skewers her with eyes still hungry, still restless.
This image is just startlingly sexy.
I'm sure you've read Kel's 'Dead Man's Rope' (I hope I am thinking of the right story). Angel comes to Cordy's and fucks her by the door- it could have almost been rape, except it wasn't. I think that's one of the hottest sex scenes I've ever read...because the tone of it is just right. And tone is important, I think, even when you're writing something like this. What elevates this is the fact that you've anchored it in the characters' very real feelings.
Great job.
no subject
Date: 2007-02-28 08:47 pm (UTC)And yes, I did read Dead Man's Rope. In fact, I just reread that passage a month ago, and my god, the tone still holds true. Both of them were just so cut up, and the sex was *hot*, for me, because it tread that noncon line so closely. Angel was such a dick in that story, and still hotter than the sun.
Real was just an attempt to write Cordelia more aware of Angel than the show allowed, to be frustrated and to long for him while he plays the iceman. Another kink, I'm afraid. Wanting someone who appears to not want you back.
*g*
This whole discussion was so fun, Chrislee. Fun to find out what kinks you have in common with other writers, and how it come through their stories. Thanks for asking the questions!