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samsomTitle: Rope Burn
Author: Samsom
Rating: R
Summary: Angel realizes Cordelia is a girl. Set early s2.
Disclaimer: Not mine. It belongs to Whedon, Fox, etc. No profit made.
Notes: Reading![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tesla321 fic is very inspiring. Ask me how!
Thanks to Debbie, as usual, for her beta goodness.
“Dude, check her out.”
He caught the faintest whiff of lust along the edges of the man’s voice, and turned to look.
Two men leaning against motorcycles parked against the curb, gazing at Cordelia as she window shopped.
He frowned.
They weren’t being subtle, elbowing each other while their eyes ran up and down the length of Cordelia’s back as she passed them.
“My God, that ass is like a peach, man…”
Angel swung his gaze to the woman in front of him.
She was wearing her usual jeans and colorful top, hair falling like rain around her shoulders and down her back.
“….a ripe round peach...”
His eyes dropped to her butt and he blinked, swallowing. Her jeans weren’t skin tight, but they fit well enough.
He averted his eyes, only to collide with her pink tongue snaking around the column of her vanilla ice cream cone, licking delicately as she kept her eyes on the store fronts.
Suddenly Angel wasn’t clear on which foot went next and stumbled slightly, causing Cordelia to turn around and frown at him.
“Angel? I said you could come with if you didn’t embarrass me in some weird way. Didn’t mean you could do it the old fashioned way.”
Smiling took the sting from her words, but they didn’t register much with him. Her twisting around bared her midriff and his mouth went dry.
“Dude, I need to have that ass in my hands tonight, cover me. I’m gonna –“
Quick as a snake strike, Angel vamped and twisted back around, flashing his teeth at the motorcycle morons. Just like that their first step onto the curb turned into a stumble as the second man fell against the first one.
Both of them went down, taking their motorcycles with them.
Angel turned back to face Cordelia’s smoothly tanned skin behind the split in the back of her shirt, game face gone.
She turned around again.
“What’s up with them?” She asked, walking backwards and gesturing behind him.
He shrugged, falling back a little more. His head tilted as he watched her ass swaying.
Ripe peach, begging for someone to bite into it, until the juices ran…
He groaned and closed his eyes. All that dreaming about Darla was messing with his senses. First he woke up humping the bed sheets and now all he can see is Cordelia twisted in them, naked and tied face down, ass in the air.
His balls tightened up against his groin and he swallowed hard, mentally doing Tai Chi poses, counting to ten on each position.
Then he recited the first paragraph of a Tale of Two Cities.
Twice.
By the time they got to the Plymouth, he had calmed down enough to move his hands from the front pockets of his coat, folded over his hips and torso.
As she got in the passenger side, she frowned at him.
“You’re quiet tonight – I mean, even for you. Is something wrong?”
“Fine,” he replied, face neutral. He climbed behind the wheel and started the engine.
She pulled her seatbelt on and it tightened, slashing between her breasts like rope burn.
Hmm, he sighed quietly. I miss ropes.
They sped off down Sunset, heading for home.
~end~
Author: Samsom
Rating: R
Summary: Angel realizes Cordelia is a girl. Set early s2.
Disclaimer: Not mine. It belongs to Whedon, Fox, etc. No profit made.
Notes: Reading
tesla321 fic is very inspiring. Ask me how!Thanks to Debbie, as usual, for her beta goodness.
“Dude, check her out.”
He caught the faintest whiff of lust along the edges of the man’s voice, and turned to look.
Two men leaning against motorcycles parked against the curb, gazing at Cordelia as she window shopped.
He frowned.
They weren’t being subtle, elbowing each other while their eyes ran up and down the length of Cordelia’s back as she passed them.
“My God, that ass is like a peach, man…”
Angel swung his gaze to the woman in front of him.
She was wearing her usual jeans and colorful top, hair falling like rain around her shoulders and down her back.
“….a ripe round peach...”
His eyes dropped to her butt and he blinked, swallowing. Her jeans weren’t skin tight, but they fit well enough.
He averted his eyes, only to collide with her pink tongue snaking around the column of her vanilla ice cream cone, licking delicately as she kept her eyes on the store fronts.
Suddenly Angel wasn’t clear on which foot went next and stumbled slightly, causing Cordelia to turn around and frown at him.
“Angel? I said you could come with if you didn’t embarrass me in some weird way. Didn’t mean you could do it the old fashioned way.”
Smiling took the sting from her words, but they didn’t register much with him. Her twisting around bared her midriff and his mouth went dry.
“Dude, I need to have that ass in my hands tonight, cover me. I’m gonna –“
Quick as a snake strike, Angel vamped and twisted back around, flashing his teeth at the motorcycle morons. Just like that their first step onto the curb turned into a stumble as the second man fell against the first one.
Both of them went down, taking their motorcycles with them.
Angel turned back to face Cordelia’s smoothly tanned skin behind the split in the back of her shirt, game face gone.
She turned around again.
“What’s up with them?” She asked, walking backwards and gesturing behind him.
He shrugged, falling back a little more. His head tilted as he watched her ass swaying.
Ripe peach, begging for someone to bite into it, until the juices ran…
He groaned and closed his eyes. All that dreaming about Darla was messing with his senses. First he woke up humping the bed sheets and now all he can see is Cordelia twisted in them, naked and tied face down, ass in the air.
His balls tightened up against his groin and he swallowed hard, mentally doing Tai Chi poses, counting to ten on each position.
Then he recited the first paragraph of a Tale of Two Cities.
Twice.
By the time they got to the Plymouth, he had calmed down enough to move his hands from the front pockets of his coat, folded over his hips and torso.
As she got in the passenger side, she frowned at him.
“You’re quiet tonight – I mean, even for you. Is something wrong?”
“Fine,” he replied, face neutral. He climbed behind the wheel and started the engine.
She pulled her seatbelt on and it tightened, slashing between her breasts like rope burn.
Hmm, he sighed quietly. I miss ropes.
They sped off down Sunset, heading for home.
~end~
