![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
samsomTitle: Intermission
Pairing: Cordelia/Angel
Rating: nc-17
Summary: On the trail of a demon, Angel runs into Cordelia at the Beverly Hills Hotel, and smut ensues.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Belongs to ME, Joss, and Fox probably.
Notes: This was a fic that![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
damnskippytoo put a bid on over at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fire_fic. A simple PWP between Lawyer!Cordy and Angel in an elevator. It has taken me an embarrassingly long time to finish this, and I went through three drafts before finally liking what I was writing. Deb, I hope you like it, too. *g*
Tracking Darla became the only thing he ever thought of.
He barely rested, hardly fed.
He killed the minions she sent after him, put them down in the sewers of LA, and sent her their heads as messages of the reckoning to come.
He trained when he wasn’t tracking.
He didn’t think of his people, he didn’t have room for them. He was waging a war and civilians would only get in the way.
He didn’t think of any of them until the one night he tracked a demon to the Beverly Hills Hotel and found Cordelia sitting in the lobby, legs drawn together, hands in her lap.
She was dressed in the lawyer outfit she wore when she tried to rescue him from Wolfram and Hart.
He forgot about the demon, and stared at her with an awakening hunger that settled deep inside him like the talons of a beast. He hadn’t seen her for over a month, but he remembered the scent coming off the clothes he gave away to Anne’s shelter, remembered the way his mouth filled with saliva.
Her skirt was short, and her stockings fastened with plastic clips.
The shirt was his, one of the few pinstriped ones he kept when he needed to get into Wolfram and Hart.
The room narrowed down to a black tunnel, with her at the other end.
He stalked around her seat, taking in the changes he saw.
One or two new wrinkles, a slight hardness in her eyes that the fake glasses couldn’t hide.
Different perfume.
Same heartbeat.
He walked around and stopped directly in front of her, watched as she jerked back a little and glanced up at him.
Waited as the recognition flooded her eyes with anger.
“Playing a lawyer again, Cordy?” He asked, dangerous and calm. “For fun or profit?”
Her eyes narrowed to points of contempt and Queen C opened her mouth, ready to cut him into bite size pieces, but he caught her hands, gripping them and pulling her up, looking for the nearest empty space.
An elevator.
He led, and she followed, all the way over to the lift, doors open and waiting already.
Cordelia never looked away from his eyes, didn’t struggle in his grip.
She didn’t want an audience either.
He pushed the button and the doors slid closed behind them.
Then there was nothing between them, no Gunn or Wes, no Darla or Kate.
He could see the softly beating wings of her dying faith in her eyes, ashes where her love had been. There’s nothing left for him, except the one thing he could still ignite in her.
The slap rang out loud in the silence, her palm stinging on his cheek.
He took it, the pain sinking down to join the rest, his head jerking to the side.
She raised her hand to do it again and he caught it, used it to pull her closer, push her up against the wall.
He bent and caught her by surprise, his tongue half way down her throat before she could think to push back. When she bit his tongue, he moaned. When she pushed against the body holding her still, he pushed back, trying to climb inside her.
She turned her head to the side, denied him her kiss, so he licked his way down her neck instead, insidiously worming under her reserves, past her defenses.
Hands cupped her ribcage, lifted and cupped her breasts, while his tongue mapped a path down her neck, thumbs pressing her nipples.
She made a broken sound in his ear, and he smiled against her skin, pressed harder, because he liked that sound.
It meant something.
Maybe not love, but not hate.
He licked her clavicle with a rough tongue, opened his jaw and sucked her flesh into his mouth, drawing her blood up so he could taste the hint of copper gathering underneath.
He could taste her heartbeat as well, the heat and speed of fear and lust warring inside her, wanting him, and if he could do it, he’d turn that want to need, use it to bind her to him, so she couldn’t walk away again as easily as he let her go the first time.
His hands were rough as he dragged her skirt up, past her hips, palming her ass over her white cotton panties, making her squirm.
He went to kiss her again, only to be met by her mouth instead. She grabbed his hair in a two fisted grip and shoved hard until he careened into the opposite wall, pushed against him, rubbing her aching breasts against his chest as her tongue shoved its way into his mouth and licked.
Her breath was like fire on him, her grip painful enough to make his cock twitch.
He reached for her with both hands, shoving aside her underwear, running his fingers over her lips, parting them so that her honey fell over his forefinger. She shuddered and her hips jerked forward, seeking more.
He wondered how long it had been for her or if it was just him that was making her shake so hard.
He penetrated her with his honey-coated finger and rubbed along her flesh as she cried out against his mouth, her face scrunching up the way it did when she had a vision.
Was it painful? The demon in him asked. Did it hurt? Do it again.
He withdrew and slid in again, and her eyes flared open, bore into his.
Like dying. His demon exhaled.
She wrapped her leg around his hip, rubbed her hot cunt over his thigh and he pressed up, wanting to be all things for her, lover, god, bringer of pleasure, his hand like an insidious thing crawling up her thigh, all the way up to where her secrets lived, where her heart lived.
Her hand signaled the next thing, reaching for his zipper, shoving inside his pants to the hard, hot thing waiting for her touch. She pushed the flat of her palm up the underside of his rigid cock, and he nearly buckled to the ground before catching himself.
She kissed him again, with teeth and tongue, and he cupped the back of her head while his other arm wrapped around her to keep her anchored as he lifted her up.
She found her way onto his cock, did a slow slide down while he turned her into the wall and buried his face in her neck. Her body wrapped around him, hot as a furnace, wet silk that scorched like the blue flames of hell. He gathered himself and drove into her, the first thrust turning into two, and then he was lost in the rhythm of their hips, closing in on that one thing that would give him what he needed. Her name was a curse forced out between his clenched teeth, and she lifted her head and bit his Adam’s apple, scraping her teeth along the skin before sucking it into her mouth.
As she touched him, she filled the empty spaces inside of him. Her mouth on him warmed him, her body an absolution to his self imposed exile.
Whether she meant to or not, she was thawing him and he hadn’t realized how frozen he’d been until he saw her, that he needed her so much.
He stooped and took her mouth in a lover’s kiss, gentle and deep, and she froze with her fingers in his hair, tongue brushing against his, understanding what he was telling her with his body and mouth.
He felt the new tension make her body rigid, the way she stiffened.
He couldn’t have that.
He sped up, dropping his hand to rub his thumb over her clit as he made love to her, jacking her body up by degrees with his finger and his cock, wringing from her what he wanted.
She gasped into his licking mouth, squeezed her eyes shut and surrendered her orgasm, long shudders that he absorbed like shock waves. Her cunt squeezed him, swallowed his cock and then he was coming as well, eyes flaring wide with pleasure so intense it stung like needles.
They held on to each other while the storm raged, then eddied into smaller waves.
When it was over, there was only the sound of her breathing and her racing heartbeat to fill the silent air.
Angel drew back; sweat dampening his hair and making his skin shine.
She ran her eyes over his face and licked her lips as he eased out of her. Aftershocks made her belly spasm, and she blushed before smoothing out her face into hard lines.
He stepped back, adjusting his pants, aware that her scent was clinging to him.
She smoothed down her skirt, and shuddered again as she felt his wet come between her thighs.
He pushed the button on the elevator, surprised to find that they had been stuck on the top floor of the hotel, and the car began to descend slowly. Cordelia pressed a hand to her belly, and smoothed her hair out.
The floors lit up as they neared the lobby, and finally stopped.
Cordelia stood on the opposite side of the small space, looking cool again.
But his come was on her thighs, and a small purple bruise bloomed on her neck, and she couldn’t ignore those.
He was there, he left his mark.
When the bell dinged, signaling their return to the lobby, the doors slid open and Cordelia moved to leave.
Angel grabbed her arm and stopped her, peering down into her irritated, pink face.
“This isn’t over.” He whispered to her. She flushed deeper, and shook his hand off.
“As if.” She shot back. Then she was gone, her heels clacking against the marble floor of the lobby.
He smiled as she watched her go.
He’ll finish the war with Darla and Wolfram and Hart. He’ll dust her and burn the law firm to the ground, salt the earth after.
Then he’s going to get his family back.
Whistling, Angel sauntered out of the elevator.
~end~
Pairing: Cordelia/Angel
Rating: nc-17
Summary: On the trail of a demon, Angel runs into Cordelia at the Beverly Hills Hotel, and smut ensues.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Belongs to ME, Joss, and Fox probably.
Notes: This was a fic that
damnskippytoo put a bid on over at fire_fic. A simple PWP between Lawyer!Cordy and Angel in an elevator. It has taken me an embarrassingly long time to finish this, and I went through three drafts before finally liking what I was writing. Deb, I hope you like it, too. *g*Tracking Darla became the only thing he ever thought of.
He barely rested, hardly fed.
He killed the minions she sent after him, put them down in the sewers of LA, and sent her their heads as messages of the reckoning to come.
He trained when he wasn’t tracking.
He didn’t think of his people, he didn’t have room for them. He was waging a war and civilians would only get in the way.
He didn’t think of any of them until the one night he tracked a demon to the Beverly Hills Hotel and found Cordelia sitting in the lobby, legs drawn together, hands in her lap.
She was dressed in the lawyer outfit she wore when she tried to rescue him from Wolfram and Hart.
He forgot about the demon, and stared at her with an awakening hunger that settled deep inside him like the talons of a beast. He hadn’t seen her for over a month, but he remembered the scent coming off the clothes he gave away to Anne’s shelter, remembered the way his mouth filled with saliva.
Her skirt was short, and her stockings fastened with plastic clips.
The shirt was his, one of the few pinstriped ones he kept when he needed to get into Wolfram and Hart.
The room narrowed down to a black tunnel, with her at the other end.
He stalked around her seat, taking in the changes he saw.
One or two new wrinkles, a slight hardness in her eyes that the fake glasses couldn’t hide.
Different perfume.
Same heartbeat.
He walked around and stopped directly in front of her, watched as she jerked back a little and glanced up at him.
Waited as the recognition flooded her eyes with anger.
“Playing a lawyer again, Cordy?” He asked, dangerous and calm. “For fun or profit?”
Her eyes narrowed to points of contempt and Queen C opened her mouth, ready to cut him into bite size pieces, but he caught her hands, gripping them and pulling her up, looking for the nearest empty space.
An elevator.
He led, and she followed, all the way over to the lift, doors open and waiting already.
Cordelia never looked away from his eyes, didn’t struggle in his grip.
She didn’t want an audience either.
He pushed the button and the doors slid closed behind them.
Then there was nothing between them, no Gunn or Wes, no Darla or Kate.
He could see the softly beating wings of her dying faith in her eyes, ashes where her love had been. There’s nothing left for him, except the one thing he could still ignite in her.
The slap rang out loud in the silence, her palm stinging on his cheek.
He took it, the pain sinking down to join the rest, his head jerking to the side.
She raised her hand to do it again and he caught it, used it to pull her closer, push her up against the wall.
He bent and caught her by surprise, his tongue half way down her throat before she could think to push back. When she bit his tongue, he moaned. When she pushed against the body holding her still, he pushed back, trying to climb inside her.
She turned her head to the side, denied him her kiss, so he licked his way down her neck instead, insidiously worming under her reserves, past her defenses.
Hands cupped her ribcage, lifted and cupped her breasts, while his tongue mapped a path down her neck, thumbs pressing her nipples.
She made a broken sound in his ear, and he smiled against her skin, pressed harder, because he liked that sound.
It meant something.
Maybe not love, but not hate.
He licked her clavicle with a rough tongue, opened his jaw and sucked her flesh into his mouth, drawing her blood up so he could taste the hint of copper gathering underneath.
He could taste her heartbeat as well, the heat and speed of fear and lust warring inside her, wanting him, and if he could do it, he’d turn that want to need, use it to bind her to him, so she couldn’t walk away again as easily as he let her go the first time.
His hands were rough as he dragged her skirt up, past her hips, palming her ass over her white cotton panties, making her squirm.
He went to kiss her again, only to be met by her mouth instead. She grabbed his hair in a two fisted grip and shoved hard until he careened into the opposite wall, pushed against him, rubbing her aching breasts against his chest as her tongue shoved its way into his mouth and licked.
Her breath was like fire on him, her grip painful enough to make his cock twitch.
He reached for her with both hands, shoving aside her underwear, running his fingers over her lips, parting them so that her honey fell over his forefinger. She shuddered and her hips jerked forward, seeking more.
He wondered how long it had been for her or if it was just him that was making her shake so hard.
He penetrated her with his honey-coated finger and rubbed along her flesh as she cried out against his mouth, her face scrunching up the way it did when she had a vision.
Was it painful? The demon in him asked. Did it hurt? Do it again.
He withdrew and slid in again, and her eyes flared open, bore into his.
Like dying. His demon exhaled.
She wrapped her leg around his hip, rubbed her hot cunt over his thigh and he pressed up, wanting to be all things for her, lover, god, bringer of pleasure, his hand like an insidious thing crawling up her thigh, all the way up to where her secrets lived, where her heart lived.
Her hand signaled the next thing, reaching for his zipper, shoving inside his pants to the hard, hot thing waiting for her touch. She pushed the flat of her palm up the underside of his rigid cock, and he nearly buckled to the ground before catching himself.
She kissed him again, with teeth and tongue, and he cupped the back of her head while his other arm wrapped around her to keep her anchored as he lifted her up.
She found her way onto his cock, did a slow slide down while he turned her into the wall and buried his face in her neck. Her body wrapped around him, hot as a furnace, wet silk that scorched like the blue flames of hell. He gathered himself and drove into her, the first thrust turning into two, and then he was lost in the rhythm of their hips, closing in on that one thing that would give him what he needed. Her name was a curse forced out between his clenched teeth, and she lifted her head and bit his Adam’s apple, scraping her teeth along the skin before sucking it into her mouth.
As she touched him, she filled the empty spaces inside of him. Her mouth on him warmed him, her body an absolution to his self imposed exile.
Whether she meant to or not, she was thawing him and he hadn’t realized how frozen he’d been until he saw her, that he needed her so much.
He stooped and took her mouth in a lover’s kiss, gentle and deep, and she froze with her fingers in his hair, tongue brushing against his, understanding what he was telling her with his body and mouth.
He felt the new tension make her body rigid, the way she stiffened.
He couldn’t have that.
He sped up, dropping his hand to rub his thumb over her clit as he made love to her, jacking her body up by degrees with his finger and his cock, wringing from her what he wanted.
She gasped into his licking mouth, squeezed her eyes shut and surrendered her orgasm, long shudders that he absorbed like shock waves. Her cunt squeezed him, swallowed his cock and then he was coming as well, eyes flaring wide with pleasure so intense it stung like needles.
They held on to each other while the storm raged, then eddied into smaller waves.
When it was over, there was only the sound of her breathing and her racing heartbeat to fill the silent air.
Angel drew back; sweat dampening his hair and making his skin shine.
She ran her eyes over his face and licked her lips as he eased out of her. Aftershocks made her belly spasm, and she blushed before smoothing out her face into hard lines.
He stepped back, adjusting his pants, aware that her scent was clinging to him.
She smoothed down her skirt, and shuddered again as she felt his wet come between her thighs.
He pushed the button on the elevator, surprised to find that they had been stuck on the top floor of the hotel, and the car began to descend slowly. Cordelia pressed a hand to her belly, and smoothed her hair out.
The floors lit up as they neared the lobby, and finally stopped.
Cordelia stood on the opposite side of the small space, looking cool again.
But his come was on her thighs, and a small purple bruise bloomed on her neck, and she couldn’t ignore those.
He was there, he left his mark.
When the bell dinged, signaling their return to the lobby, the doors slid open and Cordelia moved to leave.
Angel grabbed her arm and stopped her, peering down into her irritated, pink face.
“This isn’t over.” He whispered to her. She flushed deeper, and shook his hand off.
“As if.” She shot back. Then she was gone, her heels clacking against the marble floor of the lobby.
He smiled as she watched her go.
He’ll finish the war with Darla and Wolfram and Hart. He’ll dust her and burn the law firm to the ground, salt the earth after.
Then he’s going to get his family back.
Whistling, Angel sauntered out of the elevator.
~end~
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-09-16 11:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-16 07:46 pm (UTC)damn. i still can't say that without getting sad.
no subject
Date: 2007-09-16 02:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-16 07:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-16 08:16 pm (UTC)I want your babies.
no subject
Date: 2007-09-17 12:43 am (UTC)And wow. What a compliment. *g*
Thanks for thinking the smut sounded poetic. This took so long to write and it was supposed to be simple, I was afraid I'd lost the thrust of the fic.
Glad I didn't.
I wanted your babies first, btw. *g*