Trees. There are no trees in LA. No trees and not much in the way
of grass. Actually, it's like the city outlawed green in favor of
gray and black. Closing my eyes to the world just seems like such a
waste when there is such beauty to gaze on. Too bad when I inhale
the air, it does my lungs no good.
This I could get used to. Peace. Solitude.
"Are we even close to being there, because these shoes really aren't
hiking shoes or anything."
Cordelia.
Why did I bring Cordelia again? Oh yeah. Gunn and Wesley and some
implied threat of them all following. Afraid I might do something
stupid. Like die. Again. More. Whatever.
What more do I have here? She's gone. Even if I ever fulfill that
prophecy, I know it wont be the same. I wanted to be human for her.
For Buffy.
I turn and watch Cordelia lean down and pick up a flower along the
way. Her smile makes me feel a little better. She always exposes
her heart with that smile.
The cabin Lorne told me about is just in view. I knew I could count
on him. A buddy of a buddy or something like that. Whatever the
case, the cabin was his for a week. Sometimes you need new spaces to
brood in. That's what I want. To brood. Alone. Without Cordelia.
I hate this.
The inside of the cabin is musty. Probably hasn't been used for
months.
It's hard not to roll my eyes when I hear her drop those heavy bags
and huff and puff behind me. I hear the ragged breaths she takes and
one thing floats across my mind. "Nobody told you to bring your
entire wardrobe." But I don't say it. I just don't feel like
talking much.
"Oh my God. I thought we'd never get here. I think I just got my
workout for this decade!"
Why couldn't they have just minded their own business?
Business. Like Angel Investigations. Maybe they were minding the
business. I'm just an extension of that. Maybe they are minding
their business.
The leather of this chair feels dirty. Who cares? It's new. New
place to brood. New scenery. New everything.
"Does this place have a bathroom?"
Well, almost everything.
I probably should talk to her. I don't mean to be rude. I just
haven't felt like talking since Willow left. Nothing really to say.
How can I make small talk? The person I want to talk to is gone.
Gone. GONE!
Pacing doesn't seem to help. Panic setting in. She didn't really
leave me alone. She isn't really going to make me do this without
her. I mean really without her. I know I've been without her for a
while, but in a way we've always been there for each other. A couple
hours drive. A couple lifetimes away now. Why? Why would she leave
me like this? Why?
I know I should stop. I know I'm worrying Cordelia. I know her eyes
are dancing over me as I pace. I know she wants to know what is on
my mind. Maybe I should tell her. Maybe I should show her.
She looks so worried, looking up at me like that as I stand in front
of her. I think she knows I'm about ready to freak out, because she
puts her arms around me. Part of me just wants to take her right
there on the floor and find a more creative way to get my
frustrations out. Part of me wonders if she'd let me. She must be
reading my fucking mind. I'll be damned if her hand didn't just
brush across my ass. Well, I'll be damned either way. But that's
another train of thought.
Looking down at her, I do see the invitation. I just don't know if I
can take it. She isn't Buffy, but then a lot of girls aren't.
Cordelia has her own plus points. She may be annoying as hell when
brought on a camping trip, but she is definitely worried about me
now.
What the hell, right? It isn't like I'm not going to hell anyway.
She tastes like cinnamon. Slightly sweet. Slightly spicy. I can't
believe her lips are opening for me. I can't believe I'm doing
this. This is Cordelia. But that's just it. That's why I am doing
this. How long have I wanted to? How long have I known her?
One bed. I should have remembered that would be the case. Oh well.
Fuck it, right? If we're about to do what I hope we are, one bed
will be all we need.
The coverlet is dusty, but she isn't complaining. As a matter of
fact, she seems lost in this moment. Too bad my mind won't get
lost. Even if my body already is.
Her lips are so full. Blood rushing to them as they swell with
that "I've-just-been-well-kissed" look. Her neck is so slender and
inviting. One kiss. Two now. I better leave the neck. Too
tempting in this state of mind.
Her shoulders. Not much better, but some. Such soft curves. Has
she been thinking about this? I mean we haven't been in the cabin
for more than twenty minutes. Maybe I let her come here with me
because I always knew I needed this, and she'd give it to me.
Lips surrounding small, unformed peeks, but leaving mountains in
their wake. Fingers sliding over smooth skin and into soft folds of
overpowering warmth. She's a screamer. Oh God, I got to get that
image out of my mind. But how can I when she's moaning my name like
that? She hasn't shut up since we got here, but suddenly I don't
mind. I just want to bleed her a bit and see how much she does
scream. No. There is another way.
Why does my mind keep wishing the screaming was coming from the end
of his fist rather than from his tongue? Not that this isn't good.
It is. Sweet and textured like honey. Her writhing and screaming
makes me so hard I want to just touch myself now and end it. But I
can't do that to her. I don't want to do that to me. It isn't like
we don't have all week to explore further.
Oh yes, she likes that. She likes when I have two fingers bringing
her honey to my tongue. She likes how my tongue plays across her
hardening nub while I gather it. She likes how my forearm keeps her
hips still as I push inside her with my fingers and pull out those
screams with my tongue.
"Angel�please�"
Begging. Oh God, I want to just take her. What's stopping me?
Oddly enough it's the only way I know I haven't lost myself in this.
Angelus would have taken her, drained her, and discarded her by now.
I guess I'm Angel. No excuses.
Pushing into her. Oh God, is there anything better? Warmth that
reaches my toes, my fingers, the tips of my spiky hair. Could I
pound into her hard enough? Too hard? Only one way to find out.
Judging from her groans and grunts she could take more. Faster.
Deeper.
Looking into her face. Her eyes shut. Pure pleasure and, yes,
innocence on her face. Innocent of the knowledge that if pushed just
a little farther in the right direction she'd have a rip in her
throat to her breast. I'd be burying my face in her blood. I'd
never want to leave. Innocent of knowing, and it's probably for the
best. But with that face. That pleasure on her face. I can hardly
think straight.
Funny how I try to imagine her long hair now. How much more would it
cascade over the coverlet as I try to fuck her into the mattress? I
could turn her over. That might stop the temptation. Grab what's
left of her hair and use it to pull her back on me as I thrust into
her tight warmth. But I want to see her climax. I want to see that
face.
She doesn't disappoint me. I knew she wouldn't. Seeing her flushed
face register the surprise of instant pleasure makes me spill into
her. Fill her. Chill her. Cool her warmth, but only slightly. No
one could cool her for long. Just too damn warm.
Does it help? Holding her against me now, I am glad I didn't kill
her. I'm glad I kept the demon back. It wouldn't be the same now,
if I had given in. I'd never be able to try it with her turned on
all fours. I'll have to remember to do that.
"How do you suppose the pioneers lived in places like this?"
Looking around, I smile. She never stops. But she deserves
something.
"They invented cities and moved to them."
I feel her smile, even if I don't look down to receive it. That's
good enough.
Will this bring back Buffy? No. Of course not. But maybe, just
maybe, I'll forget for a moment, like last moment. And maybe each
moment will last longer. Maybe instead of emptiness I can fill the
thoughts with this beauty in my arms. Lord knows she deserves
something. Something better. Someone with a future. Someone who
isn't cursed, in more ways than one. Someone who doesn't love Buffy.
And there I go again. End of moment. Hopefully the next one will be
longer.
The End
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