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samsomTitle: Red Light. Go.
Author: Samsom
Pairing: C/A
Rating: NC-17. If anyone under the age of 17 yrs old is reading this, I don’t want to know about it.
Summary: Traffic lights in L.A. usually suck. Unless Cordelia Chase is in your convertible. Without her panties.
Notes:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
xlivvielockex mentioned I was going to write this at one point, even though I don’t remember saying it, so I wrote it. Livvie, this counts as comment porn, right? Thanks to Debs for the beta, and for being generally so awesome about my out-of-the-blue beta requests.
~~
The Plymouth slows to a crawl, pausing on the line right when the yellow light yields to red.
Angel’s eyes sidle over to Cordy in her red dress shimmering in the L.A. breeze.
“So, Cordy,” he begins, licking his lips, eyes smoothing down over the exposed skin of her thighs. The edge of her dress shifted up when she turned to look at him, all beguiling eyes and luscious mouth. “What happened to – I mean, when we left the hotel, you were wearing…” He drifts off, unable to finish, distraction in the form of her breasts interrupting the flow of his words.
“My undies?” she asks with a slight smile. “You told me to gag the goon.” She shrugged off his surprised look. “Well, it’s not like I had any rope on me or anything. I was dressed for an audition, not to work a case.”
Except she’d gotten a vision, and when Angel pulled up to the street she’d given him over the phone, she sat shivering in her dress and stilettos at the bus stop, being eyed by shady men in Hawaiian shirts.
After he took care of the vision he offered to drop her off at her audition but she shook her head, saying she wasn’t up to dancing the tango any time soon, not even for a national spot.
Instead she wanted to go home.
But when she climbed into his car it became very clear to Angel that a crucial part of her ensemble was missing.
Now he’s sweating in the middle of a Santa Ana summer, imagining that thin scrap of missing silk, and what lay beneath.
He watches the cross traffic, keeping his eyes from the woman beside him, but he can’t keep from breathing her in, the breeze shifting every few seconds so that her scent dances in his nostrils before disappearing.
Only to come back stronger.
His cock is uncomfortably turgid, and it’s almost a relief when the light changes to green. Angel breathes out unnecessarily, and presses the gas pedal.
Two blocks gone and the light changes again, Angel slowing as the yellow becomes red. The Plymouth eases to a stop without a sound, engine growling softly.
Cordelia shifts again, and Angel glances down at her, unable to stop his eyes from lingering on her bare thighs. She wasn’t wearing stockings, and the thought of how vulnerable she is, with just that little dress to cover all her shadows and secrets, makes his hands shake and his demon howl.
“Are you cold?” he asks, desperate for her to cover up before he does something really stupid.
“Angel, it’s almost September, and it’s L.A., of course I’m not cold,” she replies and gives him a sudden sideways look. “What’s up with you?”
Off his black look, she blushes, understanding.
“Oh.”
He wants to laugh at the way she looks down at the floorboard; the way the blood rises up along her throat, making her rosy under her tan. Cordelia’s not a virgin, she’s had a year-long boyfriend and at least one encounter since coming to L.A. that he knows about, so he wonders why she’s so surprised.
“Why are you so surprised that I’d notice?” he asks quietly, giving in to curiosity. She looks up at him, half grimacing and half smiling, and Angel can’t help but be charmed by her open look.
“I don’t know,” she tells him, shrugging a little. “Maybe because I’m used to thinking of you as a no-bone, it just catches me by surprise when you –“she breaks off and indicates the light. Angel looks up at the green and puts his foot on the gas pedal.
But he’s not finished with her.
He let’s three blocks go by before he speaks again.
“When I?” he prompts her.
“When you notice things, like me having girl parts,” she says.
Angel takes his right hand off the steering wheel and deliberately places it an inch above her left knee, causing Cordelia to suck in a sharp breath.
He turns his head to look at her.
“I notice. Every day.”
Cordelia bites her lip and he feels her shiver under his palm but she doesn’t move his hand off her, or tell him to stop.
“I shocked you.” It’s a statement, not a question and she nods, watching his hand on her leg like it’s something she’s never contemplated before. “I’m not a eunuch, Cordelia.”
The light ahead changes and Angel stops the car and puts it in park.
This time he twists in his seat so that he’s almost facing her profile, and runs his palm further up her thigh, making her jerk on the seat.
Another kind of scent suddenly fills the air and Angel’s mouth fills with saliva.
“I’ve had sex before.” He takes his hand off her leg and slips it up her back until he’s got a handful of cotton-soft hair, pulling her head back as his right hand snakes up between her legs. “I’ve fucked before.” He spears a finger inside of her and finds her slick and hot.
“Angel!” Cordelia cries, trying to grab his wrist.
He smiles, twisting a second digit up inside of her despite the way she tries to pull back on the seat, and crosses his fingers, rubbing along her walls with his knuckles.
She spasms hard around him, jerky little movements that expose her throat to his avid gaze.
Her dress rides higher until it’s almost around her hips, and he kisses the nape of her neck before whispering, “I’ve made love before.”
Cordelia turns her head suddenly and opens her mouth over his, kissing him with a passion that burns him like holy water before pulling back.
“What are you doing now?” she asks hotly, biting her lip again and throwing her head back as his thumb presses and rubs her clit, his fingers driving her toward a quick and fast orgasm.
“What do you think?” he asks as he bends low to suck on her nipple through her dress, and Cordelia sees white lightning behind her eyelids, the orgasm rippling up from her clit to her cunt to her belly until her nipples tighten and she’s shaking on his leather seat.
She comes down slowly, shaking in the aftereffects.
When she’s mostly still again, he takes his fingers out and licks them clean, watching the way she sprawls over the leather. Like a kitten after a bowl of cream.
Then a horn honks behind them and the city rushes back, cat calls and wolf whistles mingling with the sounds of traffic.
“We better go before someone calls the police,” she tells him, lowering the hem of her dress, covering her thighs again.
He nods and straightens in his seat, accelerating steadily down the street.
“Where do we go?” he asks.
“You mean, from here?” The small smile she gives him is uncertain. “I’m not sure. But we should start with dinner. I’m suddenly very hungry.”
Angel thinks about her missing panties, and the feel of her cunt on his fingers.
“So am I,” he replies, making the turn that will take them to Silverlake.
~end~
Author: Samsom
Pairing: C/A
Rating: NC-17. If anyone under the age of 17 yrs old is reading this, I don’t want to know about it.
Summary: Traffic lights in L.A. usually suck. Unless Cordelia Chase is in your convertible. Without her panties.
Notes:
xlivvielockex mentioned I was going to write this at one point, even though I don’t remember saying it, so I wrote it. Livvie, this counts as comment porn, right? Thanks to Debs for the beta, and for being generally so awesome about my out-of-the-blue beta requests.~~
The Plymouth slows to a crawl, pausing on the line right when the yellow light yields to red.
Angel’s eyes sidle over to Cordy in her red dress shimmering in the L.A. breeze.
“So, Cordy,” he begins, licking his lips, eyes smoothing down over the exposed skin of her thighs. The edge of her dress shifted up when she turned to look at him, all beguiling eyes and luscious mouth. “What happened to – I mean, when we left the hotel, you were wearing…” He drifts off, unable to finish, distraction in the form of her breasts interrupting the flow of his words.
“My undies?” she asks with a slight smile. “You told me to gag the goon.” She shrugged off his surprised look. “Well, it’s not like I had any rope on me or anything. I was dressed for an audition, not to work a case.”
Except she’d gotten a vision, and when Angel pulled up to the street she’d given him over the phone, she sat shivering in her dress and stilettos at the bus stop, being eyed by shady men in Hawaiian shirts.
After he took care of the vision he offered to drop her off at her audition but she shook her head, saying she wasn’t up to dancing the tango any time soon, not even for a national spot.
Instead she wanted to go home.
But when she climbed into his car it became very clear to Angel that a crucial part of her ensemble was missing.
Now he’s sweating in the middle of a Santa Ana summer, imagining that thin scrap of missing silk, and what lay beneath.
He watches the cross traffic, keeping his eyes from the woman beside him, but he can’t keep from breathing her in, the breeze shifting every few seconds so that her scent dances in his nostrils before disappearing.
Only to come back stronger.
His cock is uncomfortably turgid, and it’s almost a relief when the light changes to green. Angel breathes out unnecessarily, and presses the gas pedal.
Two blocks gone and the light changes again, Angel slowing as the yellow becomes red. The Plymouth eases to a stop without a sound, engine growling softly.
Cordelia shifts again, and Angel glances down at her, unable to stop his eyes from lingering on her bare thighs. She wasn’t wearing stockings, and the thought of how vulnerable she is, with just that little dress to cover all her shadows and secrets, makes his hands shake and his demon howl.
“Are you cold?” he asks, desperate for her to cover up before he does something really stupid.
“Angel, it’s almost September, and it’s L.A., of course I’m not cold,” she replies and gives him a sudden sideways look. “What’s up with you?”
Off his black look, she blushes, understanding.
“Oh.”
He wants to laugh at the way she looks down at the floorboard; the way the blood rises up along her throat, making her rosy under her tan. Cordelia’s not a virgin, she’s had a year-long boyfriend and at least one encounter since coming to L.A. that he knows about, so he wonders why she’s so surprised.
“Why are you so surprised that I’d notice?” he asks quietly, giving in to curiosity. She looks up at him, half grimacing and half smiling, and Angel can’t help but be charmed by her open look.
“I don’t know,” she tells him, shrugging a little. “Maybe because I’m used to thinking of you as a no-bone, it just catches me by surprise when you –“she breaks off and indicates the light. Angel looks up at the green and puts his foot on the gas pedal.
But he’s not finished with her.
He let’s three blocks go by before he speaks again.
“When I?” he prompts her.
“When you notice things, like me having girl parts,” she says.
Angel takes his right hand off the steering wheel and deliberately places it an inch above her left knee, causing Cordelia to suck in a sharp breath.
He turns his head to look at her.
“I notice. Every day.”
Cordelia bites her lip and he feels her shiver under his palm but she doesn’t move his hand off her, or tell him to stop.
“I shocked you.” It’s a statement, not a question and she nods, watching his hand on her leg like it’s something she’s never contemplated before. “I’m not a eunuch, Cordelia.”
The light ahead changes and Angel stops the car and puts it in park.
This time he twists in his seat so that he’s almost facing her profile, and runs his palm further up her thigh, making her jerk on the seat.
Another kind of scent suddenly fills the air and Angel’s mouth fills with saliva.
“I’ve had sex before.” He takes his hand off her leg and slips it up her back until he’s got a handful of cotton-soft hair, pulling her head back as his right hand snakes up between her legs. “I’ve fucked before.” He spears a finger inside of her and finds her slick and hot.
“Angel!” Cordelia cries, trying to grab his wrist.
He smiles, twisting a second digit up inside of her despite the way she tries to pull back on the seat, and crosses his fingers, rubbing along her walls with his knuckles.
She spasms hard around him, jerky little movements that expose her throat to his avid gaze.
Her dress rides higher until it’s almost around her hips, and he kisses the nape of her neck before whispering, “I’ve made love before.”
Cordelia turns her head suddenly and opens her mouth over his, kissing him with a passion that burns him like holy water before pulling back.
“What are you doing now?” she asks hotly, biting her lip again and throwing her head back as his thumb presses and rubs her clit, his fingers driving her toward a quick and fast orgasm.
“What do you think?” he asks as he bends low to suck on her nipple through her dress, and Cordelia sees white lightning behind her eyelids, the orgasm rippling up from her clit to her cunt to her belly until her nipples tighten and she’s shaking on his leather seat.
She comes down slowly, shaking in the aftereffects.
When she’s mostly still again, he takes his fingers out and licks them clean, watching the way she sprawls over the leather. Like a kitten after a bowl of cream.
Then a horn honks behind them and the city rushes back, cat calls and wolf whistles mingling with the sounds of traffic.
“We better go before someone calls the police,” she tells him, lowering the hem of her dress, covering her thighs again.
He nods and straightens in his seat, accelerating steadily down the street.
“Where do we go?” he asks.
“You mean, from here?” The small smile she gives him is uncertain. “I’m not sure. But we should start with dinner. I’m suddenly very hungry.”
Angel thinks about her missing panties, and the feel of her cunt on his fingers.
“So am I,” he replies, making the turn that will take them to Silverlake.
~end~
