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samsomTitle: Bitten
Author: samsom
Pairing: C/A. Duh.
Summary: Cordelia gets bitten, and it leads to more biting, some sexxing, and revelations of the love kind. Basically, second verse, same as the first, lol.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Biting and blood drinking.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: Thanks to my wonderful and most patient beta![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
damnskippytoo. I've said it before, if this fic makes any kind of sense, it's due to her efforts at cleaning up my messy WTFness. :D
~~
A typical Friday night for an up-and-coming actress in Los Angeles might involve networking at some swank party in the Hills or planning a career-making lunch date in a sun drenched piazza off Sunset after sleeping until noon.
Not for her.
A typical Friday night for Cordelia Chase involved a canceled girls’ night out, an unpicked up dress at the dry cleaners and drool stains on a trendy t-shirt she’d been wearing for twenty hours.
And, oh.
Chasing a stinky raccoon-like demon through the underbrush of a city park with her taciturn, vampire boss who had all the fashion instincts of a rock star mortician.
When she got smacked on the forehead by the fifth low-slung tree branch in as many minutes, she stopped.
Angel, intent on the chase, nearly knocked her off her feet, huffing an oof as he bounced on the balls of his feet, steadying her with a hand on the small of her back.
“Cordelia? What -?”
“I’ve had it Angel!” She turned towards his looming body, crossing her arms and setting her face on ‘grim’ as she raised her chin to glare up at him. “I’m tired, dirty, and I stink, but I refuse to end up scarred just because the Kevlar demon can’t stay out of campsites.”
In the near dark of a quarter moon, Angel furrowed his eyebrows.
“The demon – what are you -?“
“Pfft, you go fetch; I’m going home and macro-scrubbing the crap out of my skin.”
She turned and took a step, hearing the hissing rattle at the same time Angel grabbed her arm and yanked her back. She yelped and pushed backwards, away from the sound, barreling into Angel’s chest and pushing him off balance.
A cool, coiled weight pressed against her leg as she fell to the ground, Angel under her.
“Snake! Snake!”
She rolled, desperately trying to get away from it but Angel’s limbs tangled in hers and she felt a flash of pain high on her thigh as they both rolled over the edge of a hillock and fell.
The ground hit quicker than she had time to gather another scream, the wind getting knocked out of her even with Angel’s body taking the brunt of the fall, and she rolled clear of him, trying to pull her skirt up.
The rattlesnake, damage done, slithered off, a dark shape against the damp earth.
Angel rolled over onto his knees and scrambled over to her, leaves clinging to his hair and coat as he helped push her skirt up to her hips.
“Where did it bite you?” Cool fingers pressed against her skin and she whimpered, hand pressing the wound. “Let me see, Cordy!”
“It bit me, Angel, it bit me!” she cried, panicking. Angel pulled her hand away and glared down at the two tiny bite marks on her inner thigh.
“Cordy,” he whispered, looking up at her in horror.
She stared at him, every beat of her heart like a death knell.
“I don’t want to die,” she said in a small voice. He blinked.
“You won’t,” he replied in a stronger voice. “You’re not going to, I’ll…“ He gazed down again, fingers pressing hard into her skin. “I’ll just…“ He licked his lips and she saw the hesitation, the blazing panic that suddenly gripped him.
“You can,” she told him, leaning down a little. “I don’t care what your issues are, I don’t care. Please, Angel, you have to.”
He looked up at her and vamped, pulling her leg forward until she had to let go and brace herself with both hands on the ground behind her. Angel yanked on her leg like a shark until he was firmly entrenched between her thighs, a heavy, cool weight that stretched her apart.
He latched onto the two holes with his teeth, digging deep and sucking hard.
She bit back a scream as he drew the poison out along with her blood, the pressure growing until it overtook the bright pain of the bite, hands cupping her thighs steadily. He reared back and spat out as much as much as he could, before latching onto her leg again and sucking, retracting more poison.
She stared up at the stars and tried not to hear the deep grunts that felt like swallowing.
His fingernails, usually so blunt and well cared for, dug sharply into the meat of her inner thigh.
He was holding back, she realized, trying not to glut on her.
Still. There was a rushing sound in her ears like she’d been underwater for too long.
The pain wound around her leg, up to her ass, making her entire pelvis throb from the inside out.
He lifted his eyes and gazed at her, mouth open, tongue and teeth working the wound.
It should have been agonizing, the way he just kept at her, teeth in the tender insides of her flesh.
And it was.
But she became aware of something else, another sensation that stopped on the edge of pain and changed, morphed.
Into.
Pleasure?
With sudden and mortifying clarity, she realized her clit throbbed.
And throbbed.
And the more Angel’s biting hurt, the more the pleasure grew in her cunt.
Her mouth filled with saliva and she breathed like she was inhaling water instead of air, heavy and wet.
Her free leg scissored restlessly, searching. She arched her hips slightly.
Angel watched it all, a knowing in his eyes that was alien to her.
Alien, but not unwanted.
When Angel’s fingers slithered up and inside her underwear, she didn’t object, didn’t yelp in surprised fury.
He pressed his thumb down on her clit as he drew the blood from her vein, and it was like lighting a fuse. She jerked against his weight on her leg, eyes closing.
This was wrong, crossing so many lines that she couldn’t see safety any more.
But she’d give up every safe word in the world for the feeling that gripped her.
His thumb kept stroking over her clit, pressing it like he was drawing against her flesh, working her leg like a dog with a bone.
She bit her lip, and got swept away, deeper into that ocean of sensation until the stars above her head lost their radiance and dimmed.
The world was getting eaten.
She was getting eaten.
And eaten.
And eaten.
Angel lifted his mouth from her wound and clamped it wide over her cunt, tongue driving into her depths.
She screamed as the orgasm ripped her open.
And then the blackness ate everything.
~~
When she woke up, she was in Angel’s bed, and her body throbbed.
Her leg felt weighted and she reached down, tracing her fingers around the Ace bandage that circled her thigh.
Pain ghosted along her nerve endings and she was nauseous, as though she’d spent the day on the deck of a yacht.
Angel.
She closed her eyes, feeling as though she were going to be sick.
In the history of monumentally bad decisions, letting Angel snack on her was right in the top five. Not to mention the other…thing…he did.
God.
She sighed roughly, scrubbing her hands over her face.
A chair creaked and she pulled her hands away with a jerk, looking into the corner of the room.
Angel sat in the dark by the wall, staring at her.
His expression was hidden by the dim shadows in his bedroom, but she didn’t need to see him to know that he was brooding.
“How are you feeling?” he asked softly.
“Fine,” she croaked. “Sore.”
She pulled herself into a sitting position, and cleared her throat.
He watched her, still as a stone guarding a mausoleum.
“God, don’t start with the statue imitation,” she huffed in impatience, folding her arms in front of her. “We need to talk about this, not be all avoidy.”
He made a noise that might have been a laugh if he’d been someone else.
“There’s nothing much to talk about, Cordelia,” he said, his voice as bleak as a winter in Siberia. “Except the amount of your severance check.”
She shook her head.
“No, you need me, and I need – a steady check, so me leaving? Not the answer.”
He exploded out of the chair and stalked the short distance around the bed to her side.
“You don’t get it, do you, Cordelia?” He nearly snarled, looking dangerously like a wild animal about to pounce. She tensed but held her ground, refusing to allow him to use his height to intimidate her. “It’s not safe for you here. You need to leave. Now!”
He reached for her, grabbed her elbow and pulled her out of the bed forcibly, making her wince as her bad leg tangled in the covers and dragged.
“What is your damage, Angel?!”
She pulled away from him and stumbled. He watched her as she fell to the floor, face wiped clean of expression.
Cordelia stared up at him, resisting the urge to rub her sore thigh where it hit the side of his wrought-iron bed frame.
She was also uncomfortably aware of how close her face was to his crotch.
Unbidden, the memory of his fingers sliding inside of her rushed at her, and she flushed hotly.
His nostrils flared and he took a slow step back, and then crouched down in front of her.
“Now do you see why you can’t stay?” He asked quietly, the fire of his anger banked.
She shook her head, trying not to feel as though Angel was rejecting her. It wasn’t as bad as a rebar through the torso, but it was close.
“Angel, I know that you’ve never been big with the…openness. And since Doyle died, you’ve been pulling even further away. It’s like I’m sharing an office with a ghost.”
He opened his mouth to speak but she held up her hand.
“And I get that, I do. Doyle was your first real friend. But he was my friend too, and now he’s gone.” She swallowed past the lump in her throat, and put her hand on his thigh.
“You’re all I have, Angel, as pathetic as that sounds. I need you.”
The muscle under her palm trembled.
“I can’t have any friends – not like you.” He told her in a ragged whisper, eyes falling from her face.
She got up on her knees and, ignoring the short threads of pain lacing up her leg like shoestrings tightening, she cupped his face and forced his eyes to meet hers.
“Why not?” She asked, staring into his gaze, watching old ghosts chase their way through his mind. He cupped his hands over hers.
“Because of this,” he whispered.
And he leaned in and kissed her.
Shock rocked through her nervous system with the force of a lightning bolt.
He tasted like pennies, and she held her breath, afraid to move, afraid he’d move.
His mouth clung to her lips, shaking in reaction.
Then he pulled back.
“Because if you stay, I won’t be able to stop myself from wanting this – you. Wanting you.”
She stared at him, unable to comprehend how much her relationship with him had shifted in the last few hours. Like tectonic plates suddenly and violently breaking apart and reforming in minutes instead of eons.
“I don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head. “How things can be so different so fast.”
He kissed her again, this time plunging his tongue deeply into her mouth and swirling it in circles. She moaned as the sensation peaked her nipples, snaking down like a hand between her legs.
She was barely aware of him lifting her and setting her back on the edge of the bed.
He remained kneeling in front of her, hands gathered around the edges of her t-shirt, bunching the material.
“The difference is I’ve tasted you,” he whispered up at her. Burning in his eyes was the memory of her blood, the feel of her cunt weeping over his fingers. She pushed her hand through his hair, tangling the strands between her fingers.
“Even so,” she said, unwilling to believe it was merely desire that drove him to push her away. “You’ve lived with a lot worse for a lot longer than my grandfather’s been alive. Can’t you just…I don’t know….not want me?”
It was a weak attempt at levity and he didn’t smile.
Neither did she.
“I lived with it by walking away from it,” he told her. He paused and stared up at her. “I can’t walk away from you,” he confessed. “But you can.”
She laughed without humor.
“Do you know what the ironic thing is?” She asked him, leaning down so that her hair brushed over his face. He shook his head. “I was going to go away. I mean, I could have. I was going to go home tonight and seriously assess how my life was going.”
She paused and stared intently at him.
“But I can’t. I mean, even without the….snakebite incident. Knowing you want me to go, it’s clear to me that I don’t want to go.” She bowed her head. “Please don’t make me go, Angel.” She whispered, forgetting her pride completely.
He let go of the edges of her t-shirt and cupped her cheeks, pulling her head up so that he could see her face.
“I guess we’re stuck with each other,” he told her.
She laughed, the tears falling down her face, and then the sound faded and they were left staring at each other as the seconds gathered and formed minutes.
Something clicked, like a door opening.
Or maybe one of them sighed.
Her hands trembled and he reached for her at the same time she tugged at his arms. He surged up and drove her back into the bed. Her legs fell open and cradled his hips.
“Fuck me?” She whispered as his mouth crashed into hers.
Just that suddenly she felt the iron bar of his cock pressing her cunt, begging for entrance. She moaned and tilted her hips up, reaching down to tug at his fastenings. It took a few seconds while he panted and angled his head down to watch, but she got them open and grasped his cock in her hand, cupping the width gently and squeezing.
He closed his eyes and grunted.
“Don’t wait,” she told him, panting too. “Don’t wait, just do it.” Squeezed her eyes shut as she felt him position himself. “Do it.”
He pushed her thong aside for the second time that night, surged into her heat with an urgency that carried an edge of pain. She cried out and grabbed his ass, pushed his pants down as far as she could get them and held on while he pumped into her.
There was so much of him, she thought dimly as she kept from clawing at his back. He filled her utterly, completely, and she never wanted him to leave. She laced her legs around the back of his, held on as he took them both for a ride. He pushed and drove and held her hips in his grip as he angled her pelvis up, greedy for more sensation.
Too soon she felt her cunt tightening, her orgasm like an oncoming storm, and bit her lip.
He lifted his head and saw her, leaned down and bit it instead, sucking on her bottom lip like it was an open vein. She imagined what that pressure would feel like against her clit.
She squeezed her eyes shut and shouted as she came, bucking up into his hips, begging for more.
He gave it, reaching down and pinching her clit as his strokes shortened.
“Cordelia!” He called her name hoarsely, mouth hovering over hers. He jerked hard as he came, grinding into her. She surrendered to it, opening her legs wider so that he could go as deep as he needed.
When it was over, he didn’t slump down on top of her. He didn’t immediately try and climb off of her, either, avoiding her eyes.
He remained inside of her, hips circling slowly.
Unwilling, it seemed, to break the connection between them.
He propped himself up on his elbows and cupped her head in his hands, thumbs pressing her forehead. He looked at her, softly panting.
The thread of time stretched out into forever as she stared up at him staring down at her, her hands running softly but restlessly over his flanks, reveling in the hard smoothness of his bare skin.
“What was that?” She asked finally, tilting her head a little.
He swallowed and then shook his head.
“I don’t know,” he huffed softly, leaning down and pressing a kiss against her mouth. “I think we need to find out, though. Don’t you?”
She nodded.
“Most definitely.”
He nodded as well, and then hugged her.
They were still connected when they fell asleep.
~~end~~
Author: samsom
Pairing: C/A. Duh.
Summary: Cordelia gets bitten, and it leads to more biting, some sexxing, and revelations of the love kind. Basically, second verse, same as the first, lol.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Biting and blood drinking.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: Thanks to my wonderful and most patient beta
damnskippytoo. I've said it before, if this fic makes any kind of sense, it's due to her efforts at cleaning up my messy WTFness. :D~~
A typical Friday night for an up-and-coming actress in Los Angeles might involve networking at some swank party in the Hills or planning a career-making lunch date in a sun drenched piazza off Sunset after sleeping until noon.
Not for her.
A typical Friday night for Cordelia Chase involved a canceled girls’ night out, an unpicked up dress at the dry cleaners and drool stains on a trendy t-shirt she’d been wearing for twenty hours.
And, oh.
Chasing a stinky raccoon-like demon through the underbrush of a city park with her taciturn, vampire boss who had all the fashion instincts of a rock star mortician.
When she got smacked on the forehead by the fifth low-slung tree branch in as many minutes, she stopped.
Angel, intent on the chase, nearly knocked her off her feet, huffing an oof as he bounced on the balls of his feet, steadying her with a hand on the small of her back.
“Cordelia? What -?”
“I’ve had it Angel!” She turned towards his looming body, crossing her arms and setting her face on ‘grim’ as she raised her chin to glare up at him. “I’m tired, dirty, and I stink, but I refuse to end up scarred just because the Kevlar demon can’t stay out of campsites.”
In the near dark of a quarter moon, Angel furrowed his eyebrows.
“The demon – what are you -?“
“Pfft, you go fetch; I’m going home and macro-scrubbing the crap out of my skin.”
She turned and took a step, hearing the hissing rattle at the same time Angel grabbed her arm and yanked her back. She yelped and pushed backwards, away from the sound, barreling into Angel’s chest and pushing him off balance.
A cool, coiled weight pressed against her leg as she fell to the ground, Angel under her.
“Snake! Snake!”
She rolled, desperately trying to get away from it but Angel’s limbs tangled in hers and she felt a flash of pain high on her thigh as they both rolled over the edge of a hillock and fell.
The ground hit quicker than she had time to gather another scream, the wind getting knocked out of her even with Angel’s body taking the brunt of the fall, and she rolled clear of him, trying to pull her skirt up.
The rattlesnake, damage done, slithered off, a dark shape against the damp earth.
Angel rolled over onto his knees and scrambled over to her, leaves clinging to his hair and coat as he helped push her skirt up to her hips.
“Where did it bite you?” Cool fingers pressed against her skin and she whimpered, hand pressing the wound. “Let me see, Cordy!”
“It bit me, Angel, it bit me!” she cried, panicking. Angel pulled her hand away and glared down at the two tiny bite marks on her inner thigh.
“Cordy,” he whispered, looking up at her in horror.
She stared at him, every beat of her heart like a death knell.
“I don’t want to die,” she said in a small voice. He blinked.
“You won’t,” he replied in a stronger voice. “You’re not going to, I’ll…“ He gazed down again, fingers pressing hard into her skin. “I’ll just…“ He licked his lips and she saw the hesitation, the blazing panic that suddenly gripped him.
“You can,” she told him, leaning down a little. “I don’t care what your issues are, I don’t care. Please, Angel, you have to.”
He looked up at her and vamped, pulling her leg forward until she had to let go and brace herself with both hands on the ground behind her. Angel yanked on her leg like a shark until he was firmly entrenched between her thighs, a heavy, cool weight that stretched her apart.
He latched onto the two holes with his teeth, digging deep and sucking hard.
She bit back a scream as he drew the poison out along with her blood, the pressure growing until it overtook the bright pain of the bite, hands cupping her thighs steadily. He reared back and spat out as much as much as he could, before latching onto her leg again and sucking, retracting more poison.
She stared up at the stars and tried not to hear the deep grunts that felt like swallowing.
His fingernails, usually so blunt and well cared for, dug sharply into the meat of her inner thigh.
He was holding back, she realized, trying not to glut on her.
Still. There was a rushing sound in her ears like she’d been underwater for too long.
The pain wound around her leg, up to her ass, making her entire pelvis throb from the inside out.
He lifted his eyes and gazed at her, mouth open, tongue and teeth working the wound.
It should have been agonizing, the way he just kept at her, teeth in the tender insides of her flesh.
And it was.
But she became aware of something else, another sensation that stopped on the edge of pain and changed, morphed.
Into.
Pleasure?
With sudden and mortifying clarity, she realized her clit throbbed.
And throbbed.
And the more Angel’s biting hurt, the more the pleasure grew in her cunt.
Her mouth filled with saliva and she breathed like she was inhaling water instead of air, heavy and wet.
Her free leg scissored restlessly, searching. She arched her hips slightly.
Angel watched it all, a knowing in his eyes that was alien to her.
Alien, but not unwanted.
When Angel’s fingers slithered up and inside her underwear, she didn’t object, didn’t yelp in surprised fury.
He pressed his thumb down on her clit as he drew the blood from her vein, and it was like lighting a fuse. She jerked against his weight on her leg, eyes closing.
This was wrong, crossing so many lines that she couldn’t see safety any more.
But she’d give up every safe word in the world for the feeling that gripped her.
His thumb kept stroking over her clit, pressing it like he was drawing against her flesh, working her leg like a dog with a bone.
She bit her lip, and got swept away, deeper into that ocean of sensation until the stars above her head lost their radiance and dimmed.
The world was getting eaten.
She was getting eaten.
And eaten.
And eaten.
Angel lifted his mouth from her wound and clamped it wide over her cunt, tongue driving into her depths.
She screamed as the orgasm ripped her open.
And then the blackness ate everything.
~~
When she woke up, she was in Angel’s bed, and her body throbbed.
Her leg felt weighted and she reached down, tracing her fingers around the Ace bandage that circled her thigh.
Pain ghosted along her nerve endings and she was nauseous, as though she’d spent the day on the deck of a yacht.
Angel.
She closed her eyes, feeling as though she were going to be sick.
In the history of monumentally bad decisions, letting Angel snack on her was right in the top five. Not to mention the other…thing…he did.
God.
She sighed roughly, scrubbing her hands over her face.
A chair creaked and she pulled her hands away with a jerk, looking into the corner of the room.
Angel sat in the dark by the wall, staring at her.
His expression was hidden by the dim shadows in his bedroom, but she didn’t need to see him to know that he was brooding.
“How are you feeling?” he asked softly.
“Fine,” she croaked. “Sore.”
She pulled herself into a sitting position, and cleared her throat.
He watched her, still as a stone guarding a mausoleum.
“God, don’t start with the statue imitation,” she huffed in impatience, folding her arms in front of her. “We need to talk about this, not be all avoidy.”
He made a noise that might have been a laugh if he’d been someone else.
“There’s nothing much to talk about, Cordelia,” he said, his voice as bleak as a winter in Siberia. “Except the amount of your severance check.”
She shook her head.
“No, you need me, and I need – a steady check, so me leaving? Not the answer.”
He exploded out of the chair and stalked the short distance around the bed to her side.
“You don’t get it, do you, Cordelia?” He nearly snarled, looking dangerously like a wild animal about to pounce. She tensed but held her ground, refusing to allow him to use his height to intimidate her. “It’s not safe for you here. You need to leave. Now!”
He reached for her, grabbed her elbow and pulled her out of the bed forcibly, making her wince as her bad leg tangled in the covers and dragged.
“What is your damage, Angel?!”
She pulled away from him and stumbled. He watched her as she fell to the floor, face wiped clean of expression.
Cordelia stared up at him, resisting the urge to rub her sore thigh where it hit the side of his wrought-iron bed frame.
She was also uncomfortably aware of how close her face was to his crotch.
Unbidden, the memory of his fingers sliding inside of her rushed at her, and she flushed hotly.
His nostrils flared and he took a slow step back, and then crouched down in front of her.
“Now do you see why you can’t stay?” He asked quietly, the fire of his anger banked.
She shook her head, trying not to feel as though Angel was rejecting her. It wasn’t as bad as a rebar through the torso, but it was close.
“Angel, I know that you’ve never been big with the…openness. And since Doyle died, you’ve been pulling even further away. It’s like I’m sharing an office with a ghost.”
He opened his mouth to speak but she held up her hand.
“And I get that, I do. Doyle was your first real friend. But he was my friend too, and now he’s gone.” She swallowed past the lump in her throat, and put her hand on his thigh.
“You’re all I have, Angel, as pathetic as that sounds. I need you.”
The muscle under her palm trembled.
“I can’t have any friends – not like you.” He told her in a ragged whisper, eyes falling from her face.
She got up on her knees and, ignoring the short threads of pain lacing up her leg like shoestrings tightening, she cupped his face and forced his eyes to meet hers.
“Why not?” She asked, staring into his gaze, watching old ghosts chase their way through his mind. He cupped his hands over hers.
“Because of this,” he whispered.
And he leaned in and kissed her.
Shock rocked through her nervous system with the force of a lightning bolt.
He tasted like pennies, and she held her breath, afraid to move, afraid he’d move.
His mouth clung to her lips, shaking in reaction.
Then he pulled back.
“Because if you stay, I won’t be able to stop myself from wanting this – you. Wanting you.”
She stared at him, unable to comprehend how much her relationship with him had shifted in the last few hours. Like tectonic plates suddenly and violently breaking apart and reforming in minutes instead of eons.
“I don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head. “How things can be so different so fast.”
He kissed her again, this time plunging his tongue deeply into her mouth and swirling it in circles. She moaned as the sensation peaked her nipples, snaking down like a hand between her legs.
She was barely aware of him lifting her and setting her back on the edge of the bed.
He remained kneeling in front of her, hands gathered around the edges of her t-shirt, bunching the material.
“The difference is I’ve tasted you,” he whispered up at her. Burning in his eyes was the memory of her blood, the feel of her cunt weeping over his fingers. She pushed her hand through his hair, tangling the strands between her fingers.
“Even so,” she said, unwilling to believe it was merely desire that drove him to push her away. “You’ve lived with a lot worse for a lot longer than my grandfather’s been alive. Can’t you just…I don’t know….not want me?”
It was a weak attempt at levity and he didn’t smile.
Neither did she.
“I lived with it by walking away from it,” he told her. He paused and stared up at her. “I can’t walk away from you,” he confessed. “But you can.”
She laughed without humor.
“Do you know what the ironic thing is?” She asked him, leaning down so that her hair brushed over his face. He shook his head. “I was going to go away. I mean, I could have. I was going to go home tonight and seriously assess how my life was going.”
She paused and stared intently at him.
“But I can’t. I mean, even without the….snakebite incident. Knowing you want me to go, it’s clear to me that I don’t want to go.” She bowed her head. “Please don’t make me go, Angel.” She whispered, forgetting her pride completely.
He let go of the edges of her t-shirt and cupped her cheeks, pulling her head up so that he could see her face.
“I guess we’re stuck with each other,” he told her.
She laughed, the tears falling down her face, and then the sound faded and they were left staring at each other as the seconds gathered and formed minutes.
Something clicked, like a door opening.
Or maybe one of them sighed.
Her hands trembled and he reached for her at the same time she tugged at his arms. He surged up and drove her back into the bed. Her legs fell open and cradled his hips.
“Fuck me?” She whispered as his mouth crashed into hers.
Just that suddenly she felt the iron bar of his cock pressing her cunt, begging for entrance. She moaned and tilted her hips up, reaching down to tug at his fastenings. It took a few seconds while he panted and angled his head down to watch, but she got them open and grasped his cock in her hand, cupping the width gently and squeezing.
He closed his eyes and grunted.
“Don’t wait,” she told him, panting too. “Don’t wait, just do it.” Squeezed her eyes shut as she felt him position himself. “Do it.”
He pushed her thong aside for the second time that night, surged into her heat with an urgency that carried an edge of pain. She cried out and grabbed his ass, pushed his pants down as far as she could get them and held on while he pumped into her.
There was so much of him, she thought dimly as she kept from clawing at his back. He filled her utterly, completely, and she never wanted him to leave. She laced her legs around the back of his, held on as he took them both for a ride. He pushed and drove and held her hips in his grip as he angled her pelvis up, greedy for more sensation.
Too soon she felt her cunt tightening, her orgasm like an oncoming storm, and bit her lip.
He lifted his head and saw her, leaned down and bit it instead, sucking on her bottom lip like it was an open vein. She imagined what that pressure would feel like against her clit.
She squeezed her eyes shut and shouted as she came, bucking up into his hips, begging for more.
He gave it, reaching down and pinching her clit as his strokes shortened.
“Cordelia!” He called her name hoarsely, mouth hovering over hers. He jerked hard as he came, grinding into her. She surrendered to it, opening her legs wider so that he could go as deep as he needed.
When it was over, he didn’t slump down on top of her. He didn’t immediately try and climb off of her, either, avoiding her eyes.
He remained inside of her, hips circling slowly.
Unwilling, it seemed, to break the connection between them.
He propped himself up on his elbows and cupped her head in his hands, thumbs pressing her forehead. He looked at her, softly panting.
The thread of time stretched out into forever as she stared up at him staring down at her, her hands running softly but restlessly over his flanks, reveling in the hard smoothness of his bare skin.
“What was that?” She asked finally, tilting her head a little.
He swallowed and then shook his head.
“I don’t know,” he huffed softly, leaning down and pressing a kiss against her mouth. “I think we need to find out, though. Don’t you?”
She nodded.
“Most definitely.”
He nodded as well, and then hugged her.
They were still connected when they fell asleep.
~~end~~
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Date: 2009-09-07 05:39 am (UTC)[fans self.]
oo-boy!
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Date: 2009-09-08 05:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-07 08:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-08 05:33 am (UTC)And your avatar makes me laugh affectionately. Cordy doesn't have to tell anyone she's got girl parts. They know. :D
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Date: 2009-09-07 09:37 am (UTC)There is something so twisted and sexy about this...it's like temptations and lust and all those lovely little sins that are bad for you but just SO VERY GOOD.
Hot. That line about being eaten nearly blew out my brain.
:bows:
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Date: 2009-09-08 05:35 am (UTC)And yeah, thanks for specifying that 'eaten' line. I was afraid I'd overdone it a tad. LOL
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Date: 2009-09-27 07:09 am (UTC)Um, YES PLEASE.
Cool idea, and great excecution. I absolutely love your writing!
no subject
Date: 2009-10-06 08:45 pm (UTC)