SCRIBES OF ANGEL

Fan Fiction

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What You Don't Know
Author: Christie

Category: A/C; Angel POV, angsty brood-boy musings
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: "Hero", "Somnambulist"
Summary: Angel knows what he wants, he's just not sure how to get it.
Disclaimer: Not mine, Joss Whedon's.
Notes: This was inspired by the repeat of Somnambulist last night, and that cute little smile Angel gave after talking to Cordy at the end. Because this continues directly after the screen fades to black in that episode, it would probably help if you've seen it before you read this. Then again, it gets into some fairly gratuitous smut, so there's no reason NOT to read it if you don't mind being a little confused at the beginning. Once you get to the smut, who cares right? LOL
Distribution: Chaos Embraced, Angel Elders, Vampyre's Vision, Syrenslure's Fan Fic, Cleo, anyone else please ask!

You always know that right thing to say and do. And the cutest thing is, you think you don't. Sure, you're pretty brazen in your delivery, and you may get caught up in tangents, but I love to listen to you.

I think that's the best thing. The way you process thoughts out loud. I pretend it annoys me, but it doesn't. I think I do it because it's part of our routine. You babble, I brood.

Lately though, I notice that when you're gone, I'm lonely. I used to enjoy the dark silence I could envelop myself in. I could think. I could repine.  I could make my pensive-face without any lip from you.

I don't know what changed. The most significant event I can pin point is Doyle's death. It's like my whole perspective changed after that. I could lose you too. And it dawned on me, I don't want to take things I care about for granted any more. Losing Doyle was almost too much. If I hadn't had you, I'd have probably walked into the next sunrise.

You think I was the strong one, but you're wrong.   When we sat on the couch watching Doyle's video, it may have been my arms around you, but it was your heart lifting mine. You cried, I couldn't even find the tears. I envied you that night.

How badly I wanted to tell you how I feel. How badly I wanted you to feel the same. I dreamed we'd lose ourselves in the other, lose our grief in our passion, just for the night.

Okay, maybe forever.

And yes, I know precisely how long forever is.

But I didn't tell you then. And I didn't tell you tonight. I almost did, when you were leaning over that railing fighting with yourself about who the Powers That Be be...is...are, but I couldn't. You told me I was good. You told me the demon inside me wasn't all that was inside me. That meant so much.  You could never know how much.

Cordelia, it's times like those I realize, I love you.

I'm not supposed to, but I do.

Now, I'm alone. You went home, to your life without me. But I'm here, the office just upstairs, a place filled with you. The plant you're valiantly trying to keep alive amid a sunless room. Your desk, scattered with notepads boasting various drafts of your lets-get-some-clients speech and drawings of lady bugs with top hats. Your gigantic bottle of Excedrin, as though your visions really are headaches and a pill could make them go away.

They won't go away, Cordelia. Selfishly, I'm glad, because they keep us together. You're connected to me, and I'll never go away either. Not from you. Not ever.

It's too much, all of this thinking. My mind keeps drifting. I don't remember being more aroused than when you were kneeled at the foot of the bed, tightening those chains around my ankles. I tried to hide it, complaining about the constriction, but it really wasn't working. You looked up at me with those big doe eyes and I melted. Had my hands not been chained as well, I might have taken you...

Who am I kidding? No, I wouldn't have. You are... well, you. A man has to consider his approach with you, or he'll blow it.

I've seen that enough times. So for now, I'll lay here alone in bed, hand closed around my cock, rigid and pulsing at the mere thought of you.

I enjoy this part the most. Choosing the fantasy.   Tonight, it's got to be the chains.

I slip my clothes off and lay back, spreading legs, then arms, and locking them against the bedposts. My eyes close and you're there, perfectly manicured fingernails scraping lightly against the skin on my ankles. You tighten the chains just so, and I am yours.

Prisoner.

You smile, a bright, sunny grin that I've seen a hundred times. Each time it means something different. I love that smile.

You stand, now at the foot of the bed. Watching. My cock jumps as your eyes rake over its length. It seems to please you, and I'm glad. Tiny hands move to your neck... I love that top when you wear it, but I think I'll love it more when it's on the floor.  Laughter filters through the still air. I'm not sure what's so funny, but I don't care. You're beautiful when you laugh.

My breath catches when you strip yourself of the shirt, hair tousling wildly as it flails about your head. The skirt comes off just as quickly. I'm not sure I've ever seen a creature more beautiful than you before me. Hair wild and loose, white lace bra and panties bright, almost angelic against your tan skin.   I want that warm flesh beneath my mouth.

"I want it now, Cordelia."

I think I said that out loud. Growled it is more like it. But to look at you, perhaps it was all in my head. For a moment more, you just stand there, looking at me. The frustration is enough to bring out my gameface. But I keep control. You'll touch me soon. And all this waiting will have been worth it.

An eternity ticks by, and you finally climb onto the bed. The soft squeaking of the mattress is enough to make my heart soar. Slender fingers grasp my thighs, massaging languid circles into the muscle. Stroke after stroke after stroke, each one bringing you closer to my begging penis, but never touching. I'm beginning to pant, it's all too much and I believe I'll explode with desire at any second.

Then, your face lowers to my chest, small kisses and tiny licks flicker across my flesh. Your mouth is so warm against my cold skin, I can't help but arch up into you. I can feel the tickle of your lace covered breasts brushing against my stomach, and you are barely, just barely, brushing my crotch with yours.

"Cordelia!"

No, you shake your head. Not yet, Angel. Patience is a virtue.

Too bad I spent the majority of my adult life without any such thing.

Your teeth clamp down around a nipple and I cry out again. This time, you only smile against my skin.  You are too involved in your exploration of me to scold, and I don't want to do anything to make you stop. Your mouth is magical. Anyone ever tell you that? Deep inside, I hope not.

I groan as I think of what those lips, teeth and tongue could do if you'd just move a little farther south.

You're getting there... my stomach is now the object of your affection, and you seem to delight in tracing your tongue around the rigid muscle there. When you dip into my belly button and languish there for a moment, I shift into gameface against my own wishes.

"Cordelia."

My voice surfaces raspy, but it's still mine. I am afraid of what you'll say when you look up, but there's nothing I can do now. You, of course, in all of your perfection, do not even blink an eye. In fact, a slow, dangerous smile comes across your face and you shift, sitting up and straddling me. You are pressing directly into me and I can feel the heat through the thin fabric that keeps our bodies separated.

You rub against me like that, for good measure I suppose, and I swear I'm going to come right then.  Finally, mercifully, you stop, concentrating on unsnapping your bra and letting your breasts bounce free.

"Damn, Cordelia... just let me..."

Your mouth covers mine, cutting off whatever I was going to beg for. The kiss is deep, passionate, and I finally realize that while I may be tied up, you are just as much the victim here as I am. You want me as much as I want you. It gives me a slight surge of power.

I feel you shimmying, and I realize you're trying to remove your panties. If only I could help you... they'd be in two pieces on the floor by now. I want to tell you to be careful of my teeth, but talking means someone would have to stop kissing. And I can't seem to bring myself to do that.

The inevitable happens and you pull back, bringing up a hand to hold your cut lip.

"Let me taste you, just a little bit..."

You do; you've always been so generous. If my cock could have gotten harder, it would have.

I think you feel that, because you moan softly, reaching down between us to position me. I don't think I've wanted anything more than to be inside you at this moment. The vampire in me urges me to lurch upward, burying myself in your hot wetness. But I don't, I don't want to hurt you. It almost makes me smile to think of how disappointed Angelus probably is.

You take your time, lowering yourself to me slowly.   It is a new form of torture, I decide. But that's okay, because it's worth it. Your face is screwed up in concentration, not looking at me but at some point above my head and to the left.

You are so very, very beautiful.

And finally, I'm in. Buried so deep within you that you're panting. You remain stock still for a moment, just listening to your own breathing, and I want to ask you if it hurts. I think I must have, because you shake your head and smile, then lean down and begin slow, gentle movements.

I want to weep at the sweetness of it. I want to growl at the fact that you've got me tied up in chains. I want to laugh at the irony.

You speed up and I groan, your channel is so tight, and I fit perfectly inside. I want to stay here forever. You are close to me, lips finding every ridge on my face and placing kisses there, tight nipples rubbing up and down, up and down against my chest. You're pressing yourself right into the skin below my belly button, grinding yourself against me to bring pleasure to your most sensitive of places.

I want to bring my hand down and touch you there. I want both my hands free, so that I can touch you everywhere. I want it enough, and I'm going to do it.

It's good that I can take some time to concentrate on something else. Maybe it'll keep me from coming too soon. You are so damn hot now, and the friction against my cock is almost too much to bear. Thank goodness for being chained to the bed.

It takes a few good tries, and my muscles are straining so hard against my skin it's a wonder you don't notice that I'm making a break for it. But your eyes are squeezed shut, your moaning in time with my thrusts. You probably wouldn't notice an earthquake right now. So when the bed post creaks and the wood splinters, you don't even lose rhythm.

Now my hands are on you, fingers splaying against the soft skin of your back and down to your perfect ass so I can push us even closer together. You only moan louder, not once wondering how I suddenly have access to these areas. You probably don't care.

I can't hold out much longer, honestly I don't know how I have this long. I ignore the chain that still dangles from my wrist and push my hand between our bodies, slipping my finger down to your clit and rubbing at it furiously. You cry out at the initial contact, your eyes flying open.

"The chains..." you breathe, not really able to get much more out.

It doesn't matter, because I smile and kiss you, groaning your name into the cavern of your mouth. The world swirls around me until I'm forced to squeeze my eyes shut, so tight that blackness enshrouds.  Finally, I explode, pushing myself deep into you, frantically until I have no energy to continue.

You're gasping my name, I love the way it rolls off your lips, and I realize you've come with me. Now you pant into my neck, your breath fiery hot against my skin. I want to take this moment, when the peace is just settling around us and the energy is just waning from our bodies, to tell you I love you.

But I don't.

I think this is the worst part. Opening my eyes, completely sated yet unsatisfied; cold, dead semen covering my belly and hand. I hate that you're not there... I really hate that I'm alone.

The long, hot shower helps. The heat I crave wraps around me, steam enveloping me until it turns to wet, chilly mist. I stand there, and wonder what it will take to have you there with me one day. I wonder how long I can go without spilling my feelings to you.

Probably a long, long time.

END.

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