SCRIBES OF ANGEL

FanFic

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Jezebel in Hell
by Jennifer-Oksana (jenniferoksana@yahoo.com)
website: http://www.imjustsayin.net/jennyo
rating: R (bloodplay, erotic tension)
spoilers: Offspring
archive: list archives, others by permission.
disclaimer: Joss/Tim/ME/FOX/WB own, I don't.
summary: Cordelia likes to drink more than she seems to think. An
Angel/Cordelia of sorts. Title from the Poe song "Angry Johnny."
 
 
Being a hero requires sacrifice. Being a hero requires odd compromises.
 
Still, there should be lines, there should be limits, there should be
boundaries.
 
She shouldn't be craving the taste of his blood.
 
Angel's arm is neither warm nor cold where Cordelia is touching it.
It's neutral. Temperature-free. She runs her fingers up and down the
inside of his arm, feeling for the scars that should be there and
aren't. No marks, no proof of the regular violence done to the arm.
 
Done by her. She marks that arm once a week. Sometimes twice.
 
"Is it getting easier?" Angel asks, a million miles away from his arm
and his blood. She jumps, feeling guilty, and shakes her head.
 
Cordelia wants to bite through Angel's skin, to puncture the skin with
her teeth, and taste the blood underneath the surface. She wants it so
much that it makes her sick.
 
This isn't the way it's supposed to be.
 
It wasn't how it was at first. At first, she would cry, refusing to
look at Angel as Wesley bundled her out of the hotel and into her
apartment, apologizing over and over for not finding a better way to
save her from her visions.
 
They'd drink wine that Wes bought as a guilt offering, trying to get
the nasty taste out of their mouths, and Cordelia would feel better
until the next time the pain got to be too much and she needed a little
more demon to survive.
 
"Ready?" Angel asks, reminding Cordelia that now is next time, that
it's here and now and she needs to drink to live with her visions.
Funny how everything's reversed, like someone with a sick sense of
humor changed the way it's supposed to be.
 
"I'm never ready," Cordelia lies, trying to control herself.
 
It's getting worse. This thing in her that's changed from nausea to
fascination to need is starting to stay with her, find its way back
into all of her thoughts and wants and dreams.
 
Cordelia closes her eyes, trying to make herself hate what she's going
to do next.
 
"Vampires don't usually do this," Angel explained the first night they
did it. "There's no point, really. The bond that's formed is deep. It's
intense--but sooner or later, the vampire gets bored and either kills
or turns the human."
 
She can't imagine ever getting bored of this. The sensation is unlike
anything else and she thinks that maybe it's better than sex--or maybe
that's just the obsession catching up to her.
 
It's all guilt and pleasure dancing through her head and she grabs his
forearm and pulls it to her mouth. She can smell the blood just under
the skin and she opens her mouth, catching his skin between her teeth
and tugging just a little. Playing, maybe.
 
"Cordy--"
 
Blood has a bad aftertaste but it's really good going down.
 
She bites down hard and Angel makes a gasping sound. He can't gasp
because he doesn't breathe. It's a happy gasp. It sounds like a sex
gasp and she's kinda into that, the way she makes him feel as she
 
as she
 
she (oh God, she has to admit it)
 
she feeds off him.
 
She is feeding off him. Right now. His blood is pouring into her mouth
and she's drinking it and she likes it.
 
This is Cordelia's secret. She likes it. She's addicted to the bond
between them, the way she can almost hear his thoughts as she swallows
his blood.
 
cordysisterbestfriendloverdaughtersweetthing
 
heavenly white roses seem to whisper to me when you smile
 
cordycordycordy
 
i'm so sorry that you have to
 
Sometimes it's almost too much for both of them. There's always the
danger that he could lose control and take back the blood she's taken
from him.
 
The danger Angel never sees is the chance that Cordelia might be the
one who loses control, the one who pulls him against her, begging him
to take her, to taste her, to make love to her until they're both
covered in blood.
 
Angel believes in her. He thinks that this is a sacrifice for Cordy,
that she's sickened every time she's forced to drink. She wonders if
he'll ever realize that they're barely hanging on, that one wrong word
at the wrong time and it'll be over, this myth of heroic necessity,
this relative peace.
 
The baby starts to howl, breaking the spell, and Cordelia realizes
she's had more than enough anyway and that she's feeling sort of sick
to her stomach and dizzy. Too much blood.
 
Cordelia pulls away and looks at him with a mouth that's covered in
blood. She knows he wants to lick it off. She wants to let him but they
can't. Everything would be ruined.
 
"He's hungry," she says, not daring to touch the blood while he's
staring at it. "You should feed him, Daddy-O."
 
Angel won't move. Cordelia is suddenly afraid that it really has been
too much, that they're doomed already. Something in her wants that so
much that it takes all of her self-control not to lick her lips and
offer him a taste.
 
But she can't.
 
He stares at her, his eyes completely unreadable and Cordy fights
herself every second of the way as the baby keeps screaming.
 
One little taste couldn't hurt--especially after all he's done. They
would stop before it went any further. She's only offering his blood
back to him. It wouldn't be any worse than anything they've already
done.
 
Cordelia suddenly wants him so much that she doesn't know what to do.
The world be damned, they deserve a little happiness from each other
even if that happiness is going to destroy them and the world along
with them.
 
She's about to break when Angel finally blinks. He stands up and leaves
the room without saying a word and suddenly Cordelia can breathe again.
Almost before she can think, she's licking the blood off her own lips,
glad for the last little tastes, angry at herself.
 
There need to be boundaries and rules. She can't keep sucking on
Angel's arm like this, a dazed almost-addict never sure when to stop.
He could serve the required amount of blood in a wineglass and she
could pretend it was really bad merlot.
 
Really, really bad merlot.
 
The idea of Angel's blood in a wineglass makes Cordelia shake. She's
addicted to the whole ritual, even the fear that this time will be the
time, the moment where they break into little pieces.
 
She should be better than this. After all, this is about surviving the
visions and helping others, not about feeling Angel tremble under her
as she feeds off him. It's not about that at all, or it shouldn't be.
 
But it is. And Cordelia can't change that.
 
So instead of worrying about it any further, she stands up and goes
back to work, wondering about what happens next.
 
 
The End

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