Queen of the Night – Part 3

Cordelia stood in the woods, collecting as much of the night as she could hold. She was saying farewell, for now, though she knew she would never really leave. Some p art of her, some wild, primitive p art , would always be here.  
   
She remained motionless, feeling the snow beneath her boots, smelling its damp, wintry fragrance. The stars glittered above her, twinkling their good-byes. She watched the trees bend and sway and thought of the city she was returning to. Loud, bright, crowded, smelly.  
   
Home.  
   
She smiled and wrapped her arms around her waist. She was going home.  
   
There was a tug on the link then, and she knew Angel was looking for her. A bittersweet wave swept over her. She was going home, yes, but she was also leaving home behind.  
   
A bird called, another answered. She understood, now, how night creatures navigated, and so she waited for him, outside the reach of the porch lights, a shadow among shadows.  
   
He was soundless on the path, but she felt him, and as he approached she turned. He was inseparable from the darkness, nothing more a shift in the energy field. Then he gained an outline, gathered form and became a man.  
   
Out of the darkness he approached, tall and broad and pale as milk, his features a chiaroscuro in the silver light. He flowed to a halt in front of her.  
   
Remembering the ancient greeting, she bared her throat to him.  
   
His face was silvered, fey in the moonlight, half-hidden by shadows. But his eyes glowed, dark and joyful. The smile bloomed across his face like jasmine.  
   
He bowed formally from the waist. When he stood his eyes glowed gold and he wore his game face.  
   
He tilted his head and gently, reverently touched one of his long canines to her jugular. "I offer you my fealty," he said in Gaelic.  
   
Then he slipped his arms around her and nestled his face in the crook of her neck, no longer Angelus the Scourge, but Angel, her beloved. He breathed her in, taking her scent into his body and blanketing himself in it.  
   
She recognized his action, and the knowledge weakened her knees so that she had to clutch his shoulders to remain standing. "Angel," she whispered, leaning into him, feeling the hard planes of his body pressing against her.  
   
"Hey," he said. He lifted her off the ground, held her against him fiercely, pressing his cheek to hers in a move so sweet it brought tears to her eyes.  
   
"I missed you," she whispered into the shell of his ear. She leaned her head on his shoulder and pressed her lips to his neck, opening her mouth and placing a wet kiss to the quiet hollow that rested there. He smelled like soap and turf fires, as if he carried the scent of his homeland in his very cells.  
   
"Oh, I missed you," he breathed, setting her gently down on the ground. "You look better," he said. He drank her in, his eyes warm and happy.  
   
She took his hand and linked her fingers through his. "Come with me," she said, tugging him down the trail. They walked in silence, following the path Cordelia knew by he art . She'd been waiting for him so she could walk it one last time.  
   
"It's beautiful," Angel breathed, as they came into the clearing.  
   
Cordy stopped to let him take it all in. "I know," she said reverently. "I wanted to see it through your eyes."  
   
Angel raised his face to the moon and held up an open palm. "It's like sunbathing, you know. Except the moon's rays wax and wane. The scents, the textures, the way the birds call. They all change according to her whim."  
   
He turned to look at her. "You're not scared," he said, smiling.  
   
Cordelia st art ed walking again, ambling through the clearing and back onto the tree-lined path. "No," she said. "I woke up one night and the moon was full. It was incredibly bright; almost like the sun." She looked at him, and he was watching her, his face curious, intent.  
   
"I went for a walk, by myself. It was the first time in a long time that I walked unprotected." She smiled at the memory, at the feeling of feral power that had rushed through her. "I felt like an animal."  
   
"Or a woman," Angel replied.  
   
Heat rushed through her, loosening her muscles and coiling in her belly. "Yes," she said, shivering. "I understood why you love it."  
   
They listened to the night sounds, then st art ed walking again. They didn't talk until they st art ed up the hill to the house. "It'll be hard for you," he commented, stopping her on a small rise. He turned her toward him.  
   
"Yes. P art of me wants to stay."  
   
He nodded and cupped her face with his hand. "You can come back anytime. I'll come with you."  
   
"You'd better," Cordy said. "You're the only one who gets it."  
   
Angel smiled and shrugged. "Some creatures live their entire lives at night."  
   
He st art ed walking again, and put his arm around her shoulders.  
   
"You balance me, Angel," she said quietly.  
   
"We balance each other, Cordy," he said.  
   
***

"So you are leaving," Mr. Zhou said, smiling at Cordy. "You must be very happy."  
   
Cordelia smiled. "You know it," she said, snuggling under Angel's arm. "But I'm really gonna miss you. I wasn't expecting that."  
   
Mr. Zhou laughed. "I will miss you, too. You are like a ray of sunshine, my dear. A joy to have around."  
   
"Even when I'm being a pain in the butt?" Cordy asked with a grin.  
   
Angel laughed.  
   
"Especially then," Mr. Zhou said. "You are a rare combination of he art , brains and beauty. Never let him tell you otherwise," he said, flicking a glance to Angel. "And don't let him brood too much. He might implode."  
   
Cordelia elbowed Angel. "You hear that?" she asked. She leaned over and pulled Mr. Zhou to her, holding him tightly. "I don't know how to thank you," she whispered.  
   
"No thanks are required," he replied. "I am having a p art y next summer, for several of my friends. There will be other Seers and Warriors there. I hope," he said with a smile, "that you both will come."  
   
"Oh, my God," Cordy said, glancing at Angel. "We are so there!"  
   
Angel nodded. "I'd like to see that," he said, shaking his head. "Other Seers and Warriors. Amazing."  
   
"It doesn't matter how long you live, there are still things to learn," Mr. Zhou smiled. He reached out and shook Angel's hand. "Drive carefully."  
   
Angel nodded and helped Cordy into the Jeep he'd rented. "Thank you," he said, turning back to the old man. "You'll never know what this means to me."  
   
"Oh, I think I understand," Mr. Zhou said, his smile gentle. "Stick with her, she'll see you through," he said, nodding at Cordy.  
   
She blew a kiss and pressed her fingertips to the window.  
   
Angel's face glowed in the soft light from the porch. "You don't have to tell me twice," he said, walking to the driver's side and swinging into the Jeep.  
   
   
***  
   
The lobby lights were all on, giving the hotel a warm, golden glow. She walked in from the rainy, L.A. winter, and dropped her bags just inside the door.  
   
It smelled the same, like old wood and leaky pipes, overlaid with Fred's perfume and the oil Angel used to sharpen his weapons. It smelled like home.  
   
"Cordy!" Gunn exclaimed, dropping the knife and whetstone with a clatter. He dashed forward, scooping her up in a hug.  
   
Cordelia laughed and squeezed him tightly. "Oh, I missed you," she said, giving him a smacking kiss.  
   
Gunn's smile flared like a sun spot. "So, how was Confucius? You learn any new kung fu?"  
   
"We already established that there was no need for that," Wes said, springing lightly up the stairs. He pulled Cordy to him, swayed her gently and kissed the top of her head.  
   
"You thought I could kick your butt before," she said, "you should see me now." She took a step back and drew her body into a warrior's pose, the fingers of one taut hand aiming for his jugular and the other leg in the air, ready to extend into a powerful kick.  
   
Wes took a step back. "That looks fearsome," he said. "Touch me, and I'll scream."  
   
Angel walked in behind them and set Cordy's suitcase down next to her smaller bags. "Hey, guys," he said. "We're home."  
   
"Cordy!" Fred said, rushing out of the office, her long hair flying behind her. She grabbed her, laughing happily as they embraced. "Oh, you're home! It's so good to see you!"  
   
"You wouldn't believe this crowd of mopers," Lorne said from the staircase, making an entrance, as usual. "They acted like six weeks was a lifetime. And we all know that's not true, don't we boy-o?"  
   
Cordy looked up and saw the green demon walking sedately into the lobby, Connor cradled in his arms. She couldn't get to them fast enough.  
   
Lorne hugged her, the baby pressed between their bodies, just as he had been six weeks before. This time, though, she wasn't leaving.  
   
She was staying.

She took the baby from Lorne, unable to take her eyes off of him. "Connor," she breathed. He looked up at her, his wise eyes and cherub's face so familiar that her eyes filled with tears. "I'm home," she said, her voice breaking. She clutched him to her, pressing her face against his chubby cheek.  
   
"Look, Connor," Angel said, coming up behind her and putting a hand on her shoulder. "Cordy's home. Mommy's home." He bent down and kissed her cheek.  
   
Cordy looked at him, unable to stop the tears from streaming down her face.  
   
"Hey, I thought we were gonna open presents," Gunn said. He pointed to the Christmas tree, which was still up in the lobby. "Angel made us wait," he grumbled.  
   
"It was only fair," Fred said. "We had to wait for Cordy." She went to the tree and picked up a gift. "Here," she said, handing it to Gunn. "You go first."  
   
He laughed like a little boy and ripped into the paper. Wes followed, and he and Fred handed out gifts. The lobby rang with laughter and excited voices.  
   
Cordy watched them open their gifts, a soft smile on her face. "You'd think they'd never had Christmas before," Cordy said to Connor. She'd pulled one of the office chairs out and sat with the baby on her lap, a pile of unopened presents growing at her feet. "Why bother with presents when I've got everything I want already?" She leaned down to kiss him.  
   
"Cordy," Angel called from behind her.  
   
She turned and he smiled, a smile of such pure happiness that it turned her he art in her chest. "What?"  
   
"Come upstairs. I've got something for you."  
   
She smirked. "I've heard that one before," she said. She looked down at Connor. "You'd think, after two and a half centuries, the man could come up with better pick-up lines." The baby grabbed for her hair.  
   
"Fred?" Angel asked.  
   
"Yeah?" She looked up from the microscope Wes had given her.  
   
"Take the baby?"  
   
She looked from Angel to Cordy, her grin growing and her eyes gleaming. "You bet," she said. She handed Wes the slide she'd been holding and whispered something to him. He glanced at Angel, then slipped the slide under the scope, ducking his face to hide his smile.  
   
"See you guys later," Fred said, letting Cordy slip the baby into her arms. "Have fun!"  
   
Angel took Cordy's hand and led her upstairs.  
   
"God, does *everyone* know?" she asked.  
   
"Know what?" he queried, opening his door and pulling her inside.  
   
"About us. With the, you know," she said, nodding toward the bed.  
   
"Oh, yeah." He shrugged. "Not much I could do. Sorry about that." He walked over to the coffee table and picked up a small present, beautifully wrapped.  
   
"I didn't want to give it to you downstairs. I wanted to do it in private."  
   
She took the box, her hand trembling. "What is it?" she asked, looking up at him.  
   
"Open it and see."  
   
She slid her thumbnail under the tape and a jeweler's box fell into her palm. "Oh," she said, pulling off the top.  
   
Inside was a cross, almost the size of her thumbnail. So much like the one she'd dreamed about weeks before that she gasped. "Angel," she said.  
   
"I saw it one day while I was out. I don't know why, but it reminded me of you." He picked up the chain, careful not to touch the cross, itself. "Turn around."  
   
She turned and lifted her hair, waiting while he fastened the clasp. She felt his lips, cool and soft, on her nape, then his hands, pulling hers away and turning her to him.  
   
"Beautiful," he said, pressing his fingertips to her throat.  
   
"Beautiful," she replied, cupping his face with her hand.  
   
"Love you, Cordy," he whispered, just before his lips brushed hers.  
   
The first touch of his lips was like honey, warm and sweet. She pressed her mouth to his, moaning when she felt the sweep of his tongue.  
   
She slipped her hands over his shoulders, acquainting herself with him. A million times she'd touched him, held him, bandaged him. A million times she'd loved him--but not like this.  
   
His collarbones were hard as rebar, the bone ancient and dense. The first time she'd touched him, she'd been shocked by it. By comparison the human men she knew were as soft and elastic as newborns. But now she was comforted by the steel beneath the flesh. Now it was normal--and at this moment thrilling.  
   
God, and his mouth. It was like he'd always known her taste, the shape of her lips, the way she wanted to be kissed. There was no hesitation, no question. He cupped her face in his hands and changed the angle, sending her thoughts spinning away.  
   
She came up for air like a swimmer in the deep end. "Gotta breathe," she gasped.

Angel's laugh rumbled against her cheekbone, where his lips were now trailing butterfly kisses. "Right. I'll try to remember that."  
   
His hands slid from her face to her neck and then slowly down her back. He looked as if he were as dazzled by her as she was by him.  
   
The shift in their relationship had been so sudden, the directive to change its nature so bold and sweeping, that Cordy felt a little like a cliff-side house in a winter storm: uncertain of her foundation and intimidated by the primal power that was pounding at her walls.  
   
She had been so confident in the research, sure that what the books were telling them was true. That moment during the fight when she'd finally forgiven Angel for his past had been the turning point. Or so she had thought.  
   
Now that she was in his arms, and he was real and solid against her, the little doubts st art ed creeping back. What if, just for a second, the joy overpowered him? What if, in that one fleeting moment, his soul slipped free and she woke up to Angelus's cruel, gleeful smile?  
   
She shuddered against him, a different shiver than the ones his kisses elicited.  
   
He pulled back. "Cordy?" he asked, concern obvious in his tone. "You all right?"  
   
She felt the fear deep in her belly and spreading rapidly. She knew he could see it in her eyes and there was nothing she could do to hide it. "I don't know. I just freaked out all of a sudden."  
   
His face offered no judgment, just understanding. His eyes, centuries old, held memories of the very stories she feared. "I know. What if...?"  
   
She swallowed hard. "Yeah. I don't want to go to bed with you and wake up with Angelus. I mean, I'm pretty good with a stun gun, but...."  
   
He laughed nervously. "Honey, if Angelus gets free again, I think it'll take a lot more than a stun gun to contain him."  
   
"Thanks. I feel much better now," Cordy said wryly.  
   
Angel ran trembling hands up and down her arms. "Okay, here's the thing," he said quietly. "If we do this, we're running a risk."  
   
"Pretty damn big risk. Not just to me, but to Connor and Fred and...."  
   
Angel nodded. "Yeah, but if we don't? You die. Not an option."  
   
Cordy blew out a breath. "Well, when you put it like that...."  
   
Angel rested his forehead against hers. "Not an option," he repeated. His hands squeezed her arms gently. "So, I'll tell you what. Let's play it safe."  
   
"How?"  
   
"I still have those chains."  
   
She couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled up. "Jeez, Angel, kinky much?"  
   
"Evidently," he said wryly. He ran his hands reassuringly over her arms again before turning to his weapons trunk. The lid squeaked open, revealing an assortment of deadly instruments. In one corner was a large, black velvet bag, which he pulled free. It was bulky and heavy-looking and it rattled metallically as he walked to the bed.  
   
He dropped it on the mattress then untied the cord at the top. A long chain fell with a heavy thump. Attached at each end was a metal, hinged bracelet that locked with an old-fashioned skeleton key, which tumbled out, bouncing against the mattress. Since the bed didn't have a headboard or footboard, he slipped the end of the chain around the metal bedrail and pulled until it was looped completely through.

There was more than enough play in the chain to give him room to move comfortably on the bed, but not so much that he could reach the door.  
   
"One more thing," he said, dropping a kiss to Cordy's head as he brushed past her. He dipped his hand back into the trunk and came up with a gun and a handful of d art s. "Tranquilizers," he said. He held out the weapon to her and when she took it, their hands brushed.  
   
Cordy paled. "The chains? Kinda freaking me out, but I could work around that," Cordy said, fingering the weapon nervously. "The gun, though? Pretty much kills the mood."  
   
Angel ran his hand down her arm reassuringly. "It's not the most romantic way to become lovers, is it?"  
   
Cordy looked down at the gun, then back up at Angel. "I don't know if I can do this. It's just too weird."  
   
"Here," Angel said quietly. He took the gun from her and loaded a d art , then set it on the reading chair, close enough for her to grab, but not so close that he could reach it once he was chained. "Now you won't have to think about it unless you need it.  
   
"As for the chains," he said teasingly, obviously trying to lighten the mood, "they can be kind of fun once you get used to them." He walked back to her and slid his arms around her waist.  
   
Cordy laughed softly, then leaned her head against his chest and took a deep breath. "Let's have some fun, then."  
   
When she looked up he was watching her with hooded eyes. His face was unreadable and it frightened her a little. "What?" she asked, her voice quavering.  
   
"I've never met anyone like you," he said. "You face everything life throws you with such courage." Then he smiled, the curve gentling his face and warming his eyes. His hand reached for hers. "Come to bed, Cordy," he urged. "Come lie with me."  
   
Her fingers linked with his and they walked to the bed. They stopped at its edge and Cordy looked down, seeing the familiar comforter and pillows, their softness ready to receive her. On top of them sat the chain, a cold, hard reminder of the possibilities that waited. "The Powers wouldn't lie, right?"  
   
He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her to him. "We're gonna be fine," he promised, running one hand up her spine. "I have to believe that."  
   
He kissed her softly then reached up to cup her face in his hands. "Cordy," he breathed, raining baby kisses over her forehead, her cheekbones, her lips.  
   
She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer. The nerves still fired in her belly, but they were slowly being replaced by a warm, relaxing glow. Her lips opened, and his tongue danced against them, as if asking her permission to enter.  
   
She d art ed out to meet him, loving the silky feel of his mouth, then drew him in. He kissed her reverently and with great joy, like she was the sun he hadn't seen for centuries.  
   
His fingers combed through her hair, tugging gently at the silk and changing the angle of their kiss. The new position brought his open mouth more fully against hers and had her arching against him. Her desire spun upward, a fire he stoked carefully, meticulously.  
   
He kissed her dreamily, keeping it slow and easy. She wanted to touch him again, to feel the play of his muscles against her hands. Her palms dragged up his back, tangling the sweater, and she met him in a tumble of flesh and fabric. Again and again she caressed him, and in her belly the warm glow of need exploded into flame.  
   
She moaned, and the vibrating puff of air seemed to snap Angel's control.  
   
If the first kiss had been day, then this one was night. He devoured her, taking long drinks and tiny sips, driving her crazy with his tongue. She pressed herself tightly against him, thrilled by the electric shimmer that went through her.  
   
Angel rested one knee on the bed and pulled her into the open cradle of his hips. She heard the chains rattle, but instead of the fear she'd felt only seconds before, she now felt an overriding sense of safety. She laughed softly against Angel's lips.  
   
He pulled back. "What?"  
   
"Simultaneously creeped out and comforted."  
   
Angel grinned, obviously enjoying the memory that the words evoked. "I get that."  
   
His hands ran up and down her back, making ever-widening strokes. Each pass brought him closer to her hips, her lower back, her bottom. Finally, he slipped his hands under her and cupped her to him.  
   
She gasped, stunned by the hard press of his body.  
   
"Stand on your tiptoes," he whispered.  
   
Dizzy, she complied, only to feel a burst of heat and exhilaration when he pressed them center to center.  
   
"God, Angel," she moaned.  
   
He nuzzled her throat, finding the tender hollow under her chin. His tongue d art ed out and left a trail of liquid fire. Then he slid his hands under her ass and pulled her up.  
   
She wrapped her legs around his waist instinctively, gasping when they collided. "Yes," she moaned, arching against him.  
   
He leaned over the bed, lowering them both gently to the mattress, then unlocking her legs so she lay flat on her back. He slipped down next to her and rested on his side, one big hand splayed over her belly. As he leaned down to kiss her, his eyes closed, making him look as innocent and beautiful as his name implied.  
   
Cordy kissed him tenderly, almost overcome with emotion. "Angel," she whispered, running her fingers over his face, trailing them across his brow, over his nose, to his lips.  
   
He kissed her hand delicately, then opened his mouth and sucked on her fingertips. Cordy gasped at the tingling sensation that spread up her arm. She pulled her fingers away and kissed him again, lapping at his lips and pulling a groan from deep in his body.  
   
Then she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him to her, suddenly desperate for the touch of his flesh against hers. She was starved for him, like a woman who had been in the desert 40 days without food. He was sustenance, nourishment.  
   
And he was burning. She smelled the smoke half a second before he jerked back in surprise.  
   
"Sorry, Angel, sorry," she said, sitting up and unclasping the cross he'd given her. She dropped it to the nightstand then reached out to touch the pinkened flesh of his throat. "You all right?"  
   
He grimaced, but she could tell by the way the mark was already fading that the injury wasn't serious. "You branded me," he said, eyes glinting.  
   
Cordy's face relaxed into a smile. She kissed the tip of his nose. "Guess that makes you mine." Then she leaned in and kissed him softly.  
   
He flicked her lips with his tongue.. "Guess it does."  
   
She slid down on the bed and turned to face him. Her hand found his and she pulled it up and flattened her palm against his. They lay, hand-to-hand, marveling in the difference in size, shape, texture. Against him, her skin looked tawny and golden; against her, his palm was like a snow leopard's paw, huge and blunt and palest white.  
   
She turned her gaze to his. "You're so beautiful," she whispered. She leaned forward and kissed the slash of his cheekbone, the wing of his eyebrow. Beneath her lips he was as cool as ocean-smoothed sand.  
   
She felt him pull her hand around to his back, then there was the rasp of fabric against her palm. After a moment, he slid his hand around her waist. It spanned the width of her ribcage, making her feel small and protected and incredibly beautiful.  
   
The kisses she rained on him must have had an effect because suddenly he was arching against her and his big hands were rushing restlessly over her back. Then he st art ed to retaliate, dropping tiny nips and bites over her face and throat.  
   
His hands grew bolder, finding her hips and cupping her to him. Then, before she could get used to the feel of his body, they skated away, trailing over her shoulders and down her arms.  
   
Impatient, she grabbed his hands. "Please," she gasped pulling his palms over her stomach, craving his touch on her breasts and in that hot place between her legs. "Angel, please."  
   
"Please, what? Please you?" He nuzzled her throat, lipped the soft skin delicately, his hands making teasing circles against her belly.  
   
She moaned and pressed herself against him, her pulse dancing madly against his mouth in rhythm with her pounding he art . Her fingers clawed his shoulders; her hips writhed against his. Against her he was hard as stone and the feel of him nearly drove her out of her mind with anticipation.  
   
His hand slid slowly down her leg, setting her skin on fire. Then he sat and scooted down the bed until he could walk his fingers around her ankle. He slipped them into her shoe, tickling lightly until she twitched.  
   
"Such tiny feet," he breathed. Her shoe hit the floor with a thud and soon the other followed.  
   
Then he disappeared like smoke.  
   
"Angel?" Cordy asked dazedly.  
   
"Hmmm?" He appeared again at the foot of the bed. He knelt before her and cupped her calves in his hands. Her feet came to rest against his chest, the sensitive soles pressing lightly against his sweater.  
   
She shivered as the slightly scratchy wool touched her skin.  
   
"Cold?"  
   
"N-no," she chattered. "Just...." She gasped and arched when he lifted a foot to his mouth.  
   
"Just what, Cordy?" he teased. He bit her instep, ran his teeth over the ball of her foot, and kissed the tips of her toes.  
   
"Just...don't stop," she cried as he sucked delicately at the pulse point inside her ankle.  
   
"All that life," he whispered, his fingers following the damp trail his tongue left. "Just below the surface." He looked up at her and his eyes were dark and hot. "You have no idea how intoxicating it is, just to be near you. Just to hear your he art beat."  
   
His teeth rasped against her skin and her insides dissolved to liquid.  
   
"Cordy," he moaned, sliding up her body and resting his head in the cradle of her hips. "Do you want me?"  
   
She laughed desperately. "You have to ask?" She plucked at his sweater, frustrated because it kept her from touching his skin.  
   
He blinked up at her. "I know I can please you, Cordy. That p art ...anyone can do that." He slid his hand up her thigh until his hand rested over her pubic bone. Not moving, just resting.  
   
She arched against him. "No, they really can't," she rasped. "I've never felt this way about anyone," she said. "Something about you, Angel. Something about your hands, your mouth.... I don't know what it is," she whispered. Her fingers ran restlessly through his hair. "I feel...electric."  
   
He moaned and turned his mouth to her belly. She felt her shirt slip up, and then his lips were on her. "I have to taste you," he breathed. His tongue lapped out and found her stomach, her ribs, her belly button.  
   
Cordy gasped as he lapped at the smooth skin of her ribcage. His tongue edged under her bra, leaving the fabric damp and her belly quivering.  
   
Just when she thought he was going to touch her breasts, he stopped. Instead, he slipped up her body until he rested beside her again, his fingers tracing lazy designs on her stomach. Every movement sent a shiver through her, lighting up her skin, hardening her nipples, dampening her thighs.  
   
God, he'd barely touched her, and she was soaking wet.  
   
She grabbed desperately at his sweater, pulling it up and up, until she could get her hands under it. "Ohhh," she said, when her fingers found the cool, pale flesh of his stomach. She pressed her palms against him, sliding up his ribs until she reached his chest.  
   
He shivered. "Your hands are so warm."  
   
"Yeah, well, you seem to have that effect on me," she said, flicking her thumbs across his nipples.  
   
He arched against her. "Tryin' to go slow here, Cordy," he admonished. "You're gonna have to stop."  
   
"Nuh uh," she challenged, leaning up to take him in her mouth. Against her tongue, he felt like cool silk and smelled rich, masculine, mysterious. His nipple was hard as a pebble and she worried him with her teeth.  
   
"Cordy," he hissed, pulling away. "This is gonna go way too fast if you keep doing that."  
   
"I want you. I don't care." She wrapped her arms around his back and pulled him on top of her. He hovered above her, refusing to let go, and the faintest brush of his weight only frustrated her more.  
   
"Well, I do," he said, brushing her hair off her forehead. "We only get one first time."

"Angel," she crooned. Her hands slipped down and cupped his ass. Perfect muscles, perfect shape--he filled her hands like he was made for her. "The whole night is our first time." God, she was gonna die if she didn't feel *all* of him. She bent her knees, pinning him between her thighs.  
   
He moaned and closed his eyes as her hands clasped his backside. The muscles in his arms quivered as he tried to maintain control.  
   
He was close to giving in. She could tell by the lost look on his face, the near desperate grimace. All it would take was.... She reached up and bit his throat.  
   
He collapsed against her and she felt, for the first time, his full weight. A current so sharp it felt like lightning struck her--like a vision almost, but of such pleasure, it literally stole her breath.  
   
The link opened, singing like the turning e art h, vibrating through her with a resonance that filled every cell. She cried out, then, feeling more connected to life than she ever had.  
   
Angel arched against her and her legs wrapped instinctively around his waist. Even with layers of clothes between them, she felt every p art of him, from his unbeating he art to the hard, hot press of his cock.  
   
Elemental, joyful, complete.  
   
Hers.  
   
She grabbed his sweater and jerked it up. "Off. Now," she grated.  
   
He sat up and stripped his sweater over his head. It flew across the room and landed softly on the floor. Her shirt flew to meet it, the smaller, lighter piece of fabric landing like yin against yang.  
   
"Cordy," he moaned, filling his hands with her breasts.  
   
"Finally," she hissed.  
   
"I'm not gonna make it, baby," he said, leaning down to suck a satin-covered nipple into his mouth.  
   
She crooned and pressed him closer. "I don't care, I don't care."  
   
"I'm not gonna make it. 'Cause you are," he said, grinning up at her, a mischievous glint in his eye. Then he was sliding down her body, undoing the fasteners and the zipper of her pants, his fingers hard against her soft belly.  
   
Her jeans and panties slid away leaving her clad only in her bra, the shimmering black as dark as sin on a virgin's he art . And between her legs, what he was doing was so delicious it should have been outlawed.  
   
"Two-hundred-fifty years," she gasped. "Pretty good at that by now." She arched against him, pressing against his mouth.  
   
His tongue left strings of fire, his mouth puddles of ecstasy. "Let me feel you, baby," he crooned as her body writhed. "Let me feel you come."  
   
He slipped his hands under her hips and pulled her closer. He nuzzled against her, coating himself with her scent, drawing her into him like a drowning man finds air.  
   
Then the softness ended, and it was nothing but teeth and tongue, ravaging her, plunging into her, thrilling her in ways beyond imagining. He was hard as iron one second, soft as cotton the next, never giving her a chance to catch up, to anticipate which way he'd go.  
   
It left her defenseless and taut with pleasure. Behind her eyes, there was red light, little explosions of heat.  
   
And then it all drew to one point, like the universe focusing its immense, primal power at her core. One, spiraling, fiery point...and then expanding flame.  
   
She screamed as she came, her body shuddering with an intensity so layered she felt like she'd been trapped in a web of pure gold. His name was a prayer, a chant.  
   
He rested between her legs, panting. "Cordelia," he breathed reverently.  
   
When she could focus again, she saw tears in his eyes. "What? Angel, what?"  
   
"You." He crawled up her body, his hands trailing over her skin. His mouth consumed her as if she were communion, the flesh and blood that would save him.  
   
"I want you," she pleaded, plucking restlessly at his shoulders.  
   
"There's time," he said quietly, resting his forehead against hers.  
   
"But...but...you...." she whispered, looking into his angelic face.  
   
"This isn't about me," he said, trailing his hand over her hip and into the dip of her waist. "Tonight's all about you. About what you mean to me."  
   
She cupped his face with her hands. "About what we mean to each other."  
   
He closed his eyes. "I...it's hard for me to express myself in words. I thought, if I showed you then...."  
   
"Angel, I know how you feel about me," she reassured him.  
   
His eyes opened, vulnerable in their dark depths.  
   
"It's the same way I feel about you. There's no one else." She searched his face. "There's no room for anyone else."  
   
There was a beat and the air rang with silence. Then Angel's voice, gruff and fierce. "The chains, Cordelia. Now."  
   
He rolled to his back and extended his arms. Cordy sat up, he art beating frantically, and grabbed the restraints. She latched his wrists tightly then pitched the key across the room, out of reach.  
   
"You all right?" he asked.  
   
Cordy took a deep breath. "I'm okay. What about you?"  
   
"This isn't anything new for me, Cordelia," he said, eyes full of memories, dark and sad.  
   
"Maybe after this, you'll think of chains fondly," she said with a soft smile. Then she crawled on top of him, kissing his chest and throat as she went. Finally, she eased down, her bare skin resting easily against his still-clothed body.  
   
He moaned and ran his hands up her back. The chains clanked musically. "I want you," he whispered.  
   
She squirmed against him and the action dragged her breasts across his chest. She closed her eyes at the wash of sensation, letting it guide her through the last remnants of fear.  
   
His fingers tangled in her hair, and he pulled her face up so he could see her eyes. "I love you, Cordy."  
   
She kissed him gently then sat up, trailing her hands over his chest. "Really?"  
   
He nodded seriously.  
   
"How much?"  
   
"More than...."  
   
"Enough to let me take off your pants?" she interrupted teasingly. Her hands crept down his bare chest to his belly.  
   
He laughed, and his eyes glinted. "Maybe."  
   
She popped the button, slid the zipper down with a hiss, and found the boxers beneath. For a guy who was supposed to be cool all the time, he sure was exuding some heat.  
   
"Cordy." He squirmed against her, sending his hips bumping against her already sensitive core.  
   
"Ooooh," she said, closing her eyes and arching against him. "Do that again."  
   
He growled and grabbed her hips. "Cordy. Get off," he gritted.  
   
"What?" she squeaked, a little hurt by his tone.  
   
Then he popped his hips against her again and his cock, hard and smooth as stone, banged her clit. She gasped. "Oh, you mean...."  
   
He grinned up at her. "Yeah. I mean." His hands were big and hot and nearly bruised her soft flesh when he clasped her to him. His hips beat a regular rhythm against her, the fabric of his clothes adding an extra layer of sensation that nearly did her in.  
   
His hands slid toward her center, the thumbs coming to rest over her belly button. The chains dragged against her skin, but she barely noticed them now. Instead, she closed her eyes and pressed herself against him, wanting him desperately, wanting to feel his skin, to feel him inside her, to feel....  
   
Then his hands moved down. His thumb brushed her clit and she moaned, feeling exposed and raw and starving for more. She tensed against him. "Like that," she whispered. "Please. Do that again."  
   
He did. Again, and again, and again, until her head was spinning and her hips were crashing against him. Then he lifted one hand and cupped her breast, pinching the nipple lightly.  
   
She went off like fireworks, like a mortar shell exploding against the stars. Her body arched madly against him, popping against his flesh one last time, and she keened. Her nails dug cruelly into his chest, but she didn't know, didn't realize. She was lost in the ecstasy of his hands and his body, in the physical and spiritual release that he brought her.  
   
She was flushed and panting when she looked down at him, at the man who was the center of her universe. "Mine," she whispered, bending down to kiss him.  
   
His tongue swirled in her mouth, delicately, lovingly. "Mine," he agreed, cupping her head in his hands and pulling her closer.  
   
She slid across him so she lay at his side. The feel of his lips on hers was intoxicating, like champagne or starlight. Like midnight. But, oh, she wanted more. And what she wanted shocked her. "Angel," she whispered uncertainly.  
   
He opened his eyes and looked at her, his face soft and blurry with desire. "What, baby?"  
   
"Vamp out?" Her stomach was churning with nerves and need.  
   
He jerked. "What?"  
   
"Game face. I need to see you. Please," she begged, as taken aback by her request as he was.  
   
He shook his head, confusion and fear shining in his eyes. "Why?"  
   
"I...don't know. I just...need it."  
   
There was a pause, then she felt the change ripple through him and when she looked up, it was into his golden, catlike eyes. Her hands trailed up, finding the ridges that felt like bone against her fingertips. She closed her eyes and memorized him, certain she could identify him by touch alone.  
   
"Kiss me," she whispered, a tremor of anticipation running through her.  
   
"But, Cordy, I'll hurt you." His voice was desperate, shocked, shaky.  
   
"No you won't," she said, pulling him down.  
   
The fangs were like razors, sharp and deadly. But she had to have them, was nearly overwhelmed by her sudden craving for their points and darkness. She kissed him, long and deep, feeling the teeth nick her tongue, tasting her own blood.  
   
He cried out as the copper taste filled his mouth, eyes flaring, lips trembling.  
   
"Taste me," she said. "All of me."  
   
She remembered the horror she felt when Savannah suggested she let Angel feed from her. Realized now that the horror was gone, leaving behind a need almost as strong as the one raging between her legs.  
   
Angel writhed like a butterfly on a pin, sucking desperately, pulling her essence into him.  
   
Suddenly he stopped. "Cordy," he panted. "No. You can't."  
   
"Blood rights, Angel." Realization dawned. "They come with the package."  
   
He flinched. "No. You can't want that."  
   
She smiled ferally, feeling like she had on that first night out in the woods alone. Strong, dark. Female. "You have no idea how much I want that." But she pulled back, sensing his fear and his shame.  
   
Instead, she shimmied down him, trailing her hair, her breasts, her fingertips over his skin. Determined to please him as he'd pleased her.  
   
When she made it to the waistband of his pants, she slipped her hands in, under, caressing him as she tugged and pulled. The pants flowed off like water over a rock and landed with a jangle on the floor below.  
   
He wore dark boxers, soft from washing, and scented with his deep, mysterious man-smell. Her lips rimmed the waistband, finding him warm and hard beneath her lips. He was a forest of bone and flesh, just waiting to be discovered.  
   
Her tongue d art ed out, ready to taste him, ready to know him--finally--as he knew her. His thigh was hard and quivering beneath her hand, and the first touch of his crackly hair against her palm sent a frisson of pleasure over her body.  
   
In the bra, her breasts felt tight and hot, begging for his touch. She bent forward and rubbed herself against him, desperate to find release.  
   
He moaned as she worked her way slowly toward his center, cried out when she finally touched him through the fabric.  
   
He was huge and hard as stone. Even through the boxers, he filled her hand, spilled over her fingers, too big for her to contain. God, he was going to fill her to the brim. She shuddered, a deeply female response to the pleasure she knew was waiting for her.  
   
Her fingers clenched against him, and she slid her other hand up inside the leg of the boxers to cup his balls. They were tight against his body, already screaming for release. She shuddered again, imagining what it would be like to have him flood her, fill her with his body and blood and come.  
   
E art h. Sky. Water. Air.  
   
Angel.  
   
And then there was a rattle of chains, a whoosh of air, and she was beneath him. "Enough," he growled. "Enough playing, little girl."  
   
His voice was ripe with desire, his eyes hot gold. He bared his teeth and sniffed her throat like the big, bad wolf.  
   
She called out like a night bird, reoriented herself to being beneath, to being pinned. He kissed her gently, letting his teeth rasp against her lips. Then his hands slid the bra straps off her shoulders, popped the clasp, and her breasts spilled into his hands.  
   
They both whimpered, went still.  
   
"You don't know how long," he whispered, a growling lisp.  
   
She arched against him. "How long, what?" she moaned.  
   
"Your breasts. How long I've wanted to see them, touch them. Kiss them." He leaned down and laid his mouth to her skin, inhaled long and deep. She felt the air shift and shimmer, and she knew he'd changed faces again. His tongue lapped gently at her nipple, his blunt teeth scraping gently at the aureole.  
   
She cried out, the tension so high she thought she might snap and go flying any second.  
   
Then he was suckling, pulling, drawing out her desire. Calling it forth like a witch calls forth the storm. Every tug brought an answering cry in her womb, sent her arching higher and higher against him.  
   
He cupped her other breast in his hand, flicking his thumb across her nipple. The twin sensations flooded her system. She was soaking the sheets with her desire, her legs wet as rain-washed e art h. She could smell herself, tangy and rich, and she wondered if it was so evident to her, what it must be like for Angel, with his predator's senses.  
   
For one moment she wished she could be inside him, smelling her, touching her, and the idea of that intimacy was so great that it had another orgasm sneaking up on her, slapping into her with the force of a rogue wave.  
   
She cried out, shocked by her body's response to his touch, his presence.  
   
He moaned as she came. "So sweet," he said. He turned his face to her, kissing her deeply.  
   
She was rocked to her core, stunned by the fact that her desire for him was still growing. "Angel, I want you," she whispered urgently. She slipped her fingers under the waistband of his boxers and slid them the rest of the way down. "I need you."

He shimmied out of the shorts and they fell quietly to land in a soft pile on top of his jeans. And then there was nothing between them. No denim, no satin, no cotton.  
   
No barriers.  
   
He rested at her portal, like a monk waiting for unction. He was still as stone. Unmoving. Waiting.  
   
It was the moment of truth. Life or death. Blood or ecstasy.  
   
She met his eye, her gaze fierce and steady. "Whatever happens, I love you," she said. Then she reached down and pressed her hand to the small of his back, urging him forward.  
   
He looked deeply into her eyes, as if saying hello. Or goodbye.  
   
And then he slid home.  
   
"Oh, God!" he cried as he found her. "Cordelia!"  
   
She shivered, her body undulating in ecstasy as he filled her. "Yes," she whispered, her pleasure centers going off like firecrackers. Wrists, ankles, knees. Breasts, temples, womb. She was nothing but pleasure, and she was dissolving beneath him.  
   
He shifted, going deeper, the tip of him edging her cervix. The flash of pure delight had her knees raising higher, had her drawing him closer. And then he moved, one long stroke, like swinging a sword, high and sharp.  
   
She keened and thrust back, meeting him like a warrior on the field of battle.  
   
Their hips moved like lightning, sparking between them an endless lake of fire. Cordy screamed his name as he pounded her against the mattress, hands and mouth and cock rough and demanding.  
   
He cried out as she took him--all of him, body and soul, and ugly death--into her soft heat, wrapping him so tightly he couldn't escape, even if he wanted to.  
   
The tension spiraled like a great tornado, sweeping through them both with its fierce wind and howling sound. He clasped her hips and tucked them toward him, the tip of his cock finding--again, and again--that spot that made starlight fly from her fingers.  
   
She wept as the link expanded to include him, drawing them under like children in a blanket. The room shifted and she saw above her, not the ceiling, but the sky, moon and stars, sun and clouds. There was a sound of rushing traffic, of a million voices speaking, of chattering birds.  
   
And then silence. Pure light. She was flung into space.  
   
She contracted around him like a fist, her body flying to a million pieces, shattering like a dropped glass. He drove into her, faster and faster, filling her hungry core with his he art and his bones and his need.

Then he spilled over, light and heat and fury, exploding into her shuddering body and filling her. Fertile, she took him in, the alchemy of her body taking death and converting it to life. Not as a child, but as love.  
   
She lay trembling beneath him. Felt him above her, still moving like a man hypnotized. Heard him chanting her name. And then he stilled. Stopped, and collapsed against her.  
   
Her hand found the nape of his neck, and she stroked him gently.  
   
And she waited. For the flash. For the fangs. For the mocking mouth and hateful eyes.  
   
Time passed and he lay on her, and she knew he was finding his equilibrium. And that he was waiting, too.  
   
She shifted beneath him and when he tried to move away, she drew him closer. Felt him soften and withdraw from her body. Felt his weight, heavy and hard against her breasts.  
   
And finally, she felt his tears.  
   
"Oh, baby," she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. Her hand fluttered down his back, soothing, consoling.  
   
He sobbed against her, his face hot and wet against her throat. His hands clutched her to him desperately as he rode out the storm.  
   
"Shhhh, shhh," she comforted, understanding instinctively what was happening.  
   
No curse. No Angelus.  
   
A hundred years of fear washing away. A hundred years of anguish breaking like sand under a wave. In all that time, he'd experienced one moment of true bliss and the penalty for it had been his life.  
   
Until now.  
   
He shuddered, wept, the proud warrior defeated. Not by battle, but by he art .  
   
The Powers had done right by him, she thought, sweeping her fingers through his hair. Finally. They had done right.  
   
"I love you, Angel," she whispered.  
   
He raised his face, shining with tears and hope. "I love you, too, Cordelia," he rasped. Then he tucked his face back in the crook of her throat and st art ed suckling, gently. She felt his fangs extend and scrape gently against her, then slip easily into her vein.  
   
She st art ed, not as surprised by the pain as she was by the strange penetration. But he was gentle and he wasn't drinking. In fact, it felt more like he was simply communing with her, sharing something deeply intimate. Soon she sighed and arched against him. It was such a wonderful feeling, his hard body on top of her, his wet mouth against her skin. She wanted him never to stop.  
   
But in a moment he did, leaving behind stinging, hot flesh, and a mark she knew wouldn't fade. "Who's branding who, now?" she whispered, deeply thrilled.  
   
He raised his head and kissed the tip of her nose. "You wanna unchain me?" He twisted against the restraints, and the chains rattled and thumped.  
   
She smiled and brushed the last of the tears from his cheek. "No way," she smirked.  
   
His eyes widened. "Why not?"  
   
"Old time's sake," she whispered against his ear. Her hand ran suggestively down his back.  
   
There was a pause, then a laugh rumbled through his chest. "Oh, see? I knew you got off on that. Leaving me chained up all day."  
   
She rubbed her breasts against him, shivered when her nipples hardened again. "You deserved it. And more."  
   
"And I suppose now you're gonna make me pay...again?"  
   
"Mmmm hmmmm," she grinned. "With interest." She bucked her hips against him.  
   
He rolled, and in one, smooth motion, she was on top of him. "Bank of Angel. Open for withdrawals."  
   
Cordy giggled and kissed his tear-stained face, almost giddy with relief and release. "We did it," she breathed.  
   
"Yeah, I think we actually did," Angel replied, stroking her face reverently.  
   
"Angel?" She touched his cheekbone, his lips, then she bent down and kissed him.  
   
"Hmmm?" He answered distractedly, more interested in kissing than talking.  
   
"Let's do it again," she said with a breathy laugh.  
   
"Thought you'd never ask."  
   
***  
   
She padded back from the bathroom, her bare feet making no sound on the bedroom floor. Angel still slept, flat on his back, his arm flung out beside him.  
   
He was a bed hog, no two ways about it.  
   
She slipped under the sheets, glad to find that he was still warm. She hadn't been up long--only enough time to pee and brush her teeth. He'd been warm all night, actually. She brushed her hand over his silky, almost hairless chest. Of course, she smirked, that could have been from all the physical activity.  
   
His skin felt smooth beneath her lips, his nipples hard against her tongue. She suckled one gently, trying not to wake him...yet. She just wanted a few minutes to taste him, without reciprocation.  
   
Not that she minded reciprocation. No sirree. He'd done more than his fair share of reciprocating, as a matter of fact. Five times more than she'd ever had before, and that was after a late st art .  
   
Who knew what he could do with an entire evening?  
   
She shuddered, her knees weakening at the thought, and kissed her way down his belly. Her hand crept up his thigh, loving the rough scratch of hair against her palm. It was only one of the many textures she found she loved about him.  
   
And the scents, so e art hy, so...male. She slipped her nose into the crease between his belly and thigh and took a deep breath. Her mouth watered.  
   
God, she could just eat him up. Actually, she realized, looking over at his hardening cock, that wasn't a bad idea. She hadn't had the chance to do this last night, and she'd been thinking about it ever since she woke up, cradled in his arms.  
   
Pure, unadulterated Angel, she thought, taking a long swipe of him with her tongue. He moaned in his sleep and she licked him again. He tasted great, salty and tangy, as if he still carried the essence of both of them on his skin.  
   
She cupped the base of his cock in her hand and raised her head to swallow him.  
   
"You're playing with fire, girl," Angel said, jerking her up his body. She was face-to-face with him before she even had a chance to blink.  
   
"Oh, you think so?" She ignored the threat in his voice, and squeezed her fingers around him instead.  
   
"I know so," he growled, flipping her beneath him.  
   
She giggled. "You big faker. How long have you been awake?" She ran her palm up and down, loving the way he arched against her.  
   
"Long enough to know you like to tease."  
   
"Hey," she huffed, running her thumb around the tip. "If you'd let me finish...."  
   
He pressed her against the pillow, his mouth coming down on hers and stopping her mid-sentence. He yanked her hand away, wrapped her legs around his waist, and thrust, once, hard.  
   
She arched against him. "Angel," she panted, her nervous system lighting up like fireworks.  
   
"That's what you get," he said, rocking back and thrusting again. He grunted, his sleepy eyes full of lust and pleasure.  
   
"This is punishment?" she asked.  
   
"Atonement's a bitch," he said, rolling them both so that she now straddled him. "I should know."  
   
She clutched his shoulders, trying to get her balance. "For an old guy, you move pretty fast," she said. "You gotta learn to slow down."  
   
"You want slow?" he asked, cradling her hips with his hands. "I can do slow."  
   
It was like making love with warm molasses. "I think you can do anything," she whispered, running her palms down his sweat-dampened chest.  
   
He thrust against her lazily, spearing her on his body.  
   
She gasped. "Don't stop."  
   
"Never," he said, sliding his hand between them. He found her clit, swollen and throbbing, and pressed it gently with his fingers. "You gonna come for me, baby?"  
   
"Oh, yeah," she groaned, her voice breaking with pleasure.  
   
He thrust against her again, hitting the hive of nerves inside her body like a bulls-eye. She arched against him, feeling the first ripples of pleasure dance through her body.  
   
"That's it," he whispered, circling her clit. "Come on." He thrust against her again, his perfect aim sending her spinning into space.  
   
She cried out, feeling herself clench and shudder. Flares of light sparkled behind her eyes and she forgot everything she'd ever known, everything but the way his body felt against hers.  
   
He lifted his fingers and trailed them up her belly, running them around her nipples and up to her lips. She kissed him and tasted herself, tangy as salt-water.  
   
"I love you," she said, smiling down at him.  
   
He pulled her to him, crushing her against his chest. "I love you," he said. "Forever."  
   
She stilled. "Angel," she whispered, fear sneaking in on cloven feet.  
   
"What?"  
   
"What if there's no such thing as forever? What if I keep getting old and you don't? What if, despite the last six weeks, I have a vision one day and never wake up?"  
   
He rolled over, pinning her beneath him, and rested his weight on his forearms. "What if I walk outside tomorrow and go up in smoke?"  
   
She shook her head. "You're not taking me seriously."  
   
He stroked her hair off her forehead. "You're so beautiful," he said, kissing her nose. "That's all I know right now. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever known, and you're here in my bed. And when we get up, you'll still be here. And what's even more amazing? I will too."  
   
He rained kisses over her cheeks, her chin, her throat. "This moment is all we have, Cordy. It's all any of us have. Thinking about the next doesn't do anything but keep us from enjoying this one."  
   
He thrust his hips against hers, sending a searing arc of pleasure through her body. "And I'm very much enjoying this moment," he whispered.  
   
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, concentrating on feeling him inside of her, surrounding her. When she opened them, he was smiling, his dark eyes so full of love that all she could do was smile in return.  
   
"Me, too," she said. She reached up to kiss him. "Me, too."  
   
END  

Thanks: To the Angelfic list for guiding me through Plotland. <g> Also thanks to Kazz, my C/A co-conspirator. Finally, thanks to the folks at ME who have given me so many hours of viewing pleasure. I promise, I saw "Birthday" *after* I wrote this. Any overlap is pure coincidence.