“What the Heart Wants”
Princess Plum Jade
NC-17 (Explicit Sexuality; consenting BDSM)
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters mentionned by name in this fic. It is written purely for practice on my own writing style and to entertain BtVS and Ats fans. Non-for-profit, it all belongs to Joss, etc. The Deva/Devi is/are my personal creation based upon mythological research. Jesse Blythe is also my creation. I did elaborate on the "Children's" characters as well.
Distribution: All Angelus; Fire and Ice; His Girl Friday. To additional inquiries, yes, please advise me first. HOWEVER, if I ever resign from the web community and you are NOT able to reach me through the provided e-mail address, please feel free to archive this story without my actual permission.
Pairing: Angel/us(?) & Cordelia
Spoilers: Very brief mention of different characters and guest characters on BtVS and Ats. I don’t think anything is really spoiled, but the characters are mentionned.
Summary: Future Fic/Erotica-- 2036 A.D. with 2017 A.D. flashbacks. Cordelia and Angel are married and enjoying their retirement from “active duty” in the never-ending battle of good vs. evil. Recalling a conversation with the Children from 2017, Cordelia comes to some interesting realisations about Angel’s character and her own.
Feedback is oxygen for me. Please let me know if my writing is any good! Please let me know if the writing is bad! Just tell me nicely please. Thanks for reading!
This fic was promised to my pal JKirch13. Cordy, Angel, and a riding crop. Hugs, Plummy
“And what a poster child for soulfulness you are...This is no life, Angel. Before you were neutered you weren’t just any vampire, you were a legend. Nobody could keep up with you–not even me. You don’t learn that kind of darkness–it’s innate. It was in you before we ever met...My boy’s still in there and he wants out...God doesn’t want you. But I still do...”
(Darla, from ANGEL “Dear Boy” episode by David Greenwalt.)
She stood quietly in the bedroom doorway. She didn't speak; there was no need. Angel did most of the talking these days.
“Cordelia.” His voice was silky-soft cat’s fur brushing her skin. “Come here.”
She’d never get use to that cocksure, sneering tone coming from him. It filled her with dread even as it set her body on fire. Fear and desire skittered from her brain, travelled along the back of her neck until the fine hair there stiffened and continued to her backbone.
“Cordy.” The silky voice lengthened into a sexy purr. “You’re keeping me waiting.” A note of warning rolled in his words. That warning rolled right into her tummy.
Cordelia felt her limbs go all trembly. It amazed her, after so many years with him, that he still made her feel that way. She still found him sexy, still wanted him so much. She was pushing sixty, how could she feel like this?
Because you’ve still got the face and body of a 21-year-old and he’s so hot he makes you crazy!
“Angel,” she whispered softly. Was this what we all worked for? Was this what I worked for?
He smiled at her and her heartbeat sped up. He was fantastically handsome, even more so than she remembered him being when she was just a kid in high school. The decades they’d spent together had not cooled their passion, only increased it.
“My beautiful bride.” His dark gaze swept over her and she felt unclothed and touched from his look and words. Angel had looked at her with loving warmth for years. Angelus’s look had been almost a violation, piercingly cold and empty. But this new love of hers, this new Angel, his looks burned her all over, made her yearn for him even as she feared his control.
Why did she shiver when she was so hot?
Lounging in their huge four-poster bed lavish in a velvet-covered down comforter and strewn with silk-covered pillows and cushions, Angel looked like a large predator. A hungry tiger patiently waiting for his prey to willingly come to him.
And she came. Willingly.
He was clad only in a pair of nicely tailored pajama bottoms made of dark green silk. The deceptively delicate fabric clung to his body, the silvery sheen of the silk highlighting his superb muscular contours and his generous male endowments. His naked torso was sculpted into a firm study of masculine perfection. His face was eternally lovely to her, angelic. She’d loved his face infatuously when she was a schoolgirl; loved him with respect and sincerity when they were partnered together as a team for the Powers that Be. Now she loved him completely and profoundly as a woman loved a man who meant everything to her.
She had given up part of her mortality for his sake, willingly accepting a demonic mutation that allowed her to continue her role as his seer. She helped him because she loved him.
Cordelia had never thought about how things would end. What would happen when their mission was complete. How Angel would change. What he would want.
“Take off your gown. Slowly.” The heat in his eyes went deep into her stomach and lower still, into her most intimate core.
Her gown was a custom design by a famous lingerie designer in Beverly Hills. Dark charcoal silk chiffon, sheer and lightweight as a spider web, flowed over her curves and swirled gracefully to her ankles. The sides of the gown were completely open, fastened only by delicate slender silk ribbon lacings on either side at the most generous curve of her hips. None of her body was hidden, but the chiffon moved over her, a shadow caressing her with every step she took.
Cordelia drew the left spaghetti strap across her shoulder. Her beautifully manicured hand drifted idly over the soft chiffon. The touch of her sensitive fingertips through the luxurious fabric onto the skin beneath it was sensually arousing. She allowed her fingers to skim over her breast, lightly grazing her belly, as they headed for the side lacings.
Angel’s deep-set dark eyes followed her every movement. She never stopped watching him watch her. His body revealed the depths of his hunger for her, the front of his pants bunching and tightening with his arousal.
The gown floated and drifted away from Cordelia’s body slowly, like a lover reluctant to leave off touching her.
Like Angel. Except that Angel would never leave her.
Beneath the gown she wore a black lace G-string, black thigh-high silk stockings with wide lace tops, and black kidskin pumps with six-inch stiletto heels. Her full round breasts were adorned with silver nipple clamps connected by two strands of fine silver chain.
Angel inhaled, enjoying the feel of extra oxygen coursing through his lungs. The body jewelry was one of his favourite toys. The cool-toned silver stood out, a gleaming contrast on Cordy’s warm olive skin. The plain clamps were adorned with dangling jewels: three pear-shaped garnets, each on a strand of liquid silver, twinkled and shone around Cordelia’s voluptuous breasts like little droplets of blood, the fine chains shivering as she breathed.
He loved pinching her already pebble-hard nipples, circling and defining the sensitive flesh with his lips and fingers. He liked to tug on the chain strands and hear his wife moan at the painfully erotic stimulation.
She obeyed him, but a fine film of tears made her dark hazel eyes glimmer. It both upset and excited her when Angel treated her this way. Like she was a plaything or a pet.
What’s more upsetting to you, Cordy? That he likes it–or that you do?
Angel admired the rear view of his bride. Cordelia was so lushly made, both Angel and Angelus had always thought so. Slim and slender, but more voluptuous and well-rounded than the women in his past. His gaze traveled lovingly over her, admiring her elegant, sexy pumps (Funny, there had been a time when she would have scolded him for not noticing her shoes,) up the straight seams of the silk stockings sheathing her long legs. The scalloped lace tops of the stockings framed her firm bottom.
Her thick dark brown hair flowed in resplendent waves down her back. It had infuriated him when she had chopped it all off and bleached it. More than once Angel had thrown her over his lap and administered a good hard spanking as he scolded her harshly for spoiling her looks all those years ago. But her beautiful hair was as it should be now. He loved touching it, brushing it in long sweeping strokes with a silver-backed boar-bristle brush, fisting it in handfuls to force her head up as he took her from behind.
Angel rose from their bed, drawing a suede riding crop from under the eyelet-edged counterpane. He undressed casually, unknotting the corded silk drawstring of his pants so that the silk swept down his legs and pooled about his ankles. He stepped out of them and moved closer to Cordelia.
He stood just behind her and inhaled slowly to savor her unique aroma, the blend of scents that made her Cordelia. Her blood, the spicy-sweet richness of human stock touched with that peculiarly undefinable strain of demon. Her skin was a soft warm musk blended with white flowers. Jasmine, lilies-of-the-valley, magnolia, white roses. A light, sweet perfume he liked. And he could smell her sex, ripening, moistening for him.
God he loved this woman so much! He was so hard it hurt. She was so right for him, so perfect.
“Cordy.” He lifted the riding crop and traced an imaginary line from just above the back of her knee, up her thigh to the little crease where her ass began. He used only the lightest touch. She shuddered all over and her skin rippled and prickled in patches of gooseflesh. Angel swallowed.
“You were naughty to make me wait, Cordy.”
It was late winter 2017 when Cordelia had her last vision. Only a short time after the public downfall of Wolfram and Hart. It hadn’t been easy, but they had still lived to see it happen.
Willow Rosenberg’s friend and partner, Jess Blythe, was a kick-ass attorney as well as a powerful magician. She had led the legal team that cited the sinister law firm for so many bizarre wrongdoings it was forced to close its doors.
Angel, Gunn, and Buffy Summers had planned and plotted for the inevitable showdown that followed.
Cordelia had been shocked by how many friends had shown up to help their cause, to stand and fight against one of the most organised demonic criminal empires the Watcher Chroniclers had ever recorded. Yet come they did. Buffy Summers, the Slayer, strode in easily with a hard glint in her eyes for the law firm's sinister representatives. Buffy had already died once and she didn't fear death. Oz had arrived with several of the best fighters in his pack from the South Carolina wilderness. Riley Finn and his buddy Graham and a few other Special Forces military types who had served in the Initiative and recalled the Slayer saving their butts. Xander Harris and his army pals. A small army of Lister demons came back from their sanctuary to fight for the friends of their Promised One (Oh Doyle, Cordelia thought, I wish you were here to see this day.) Faith, dark, distant, and quiet, yet somehow changed, more at peace but ready for the fight. Bethany Chaulk arrived, more oddly silent than Cordelia remembered her, her warm brown eyes blazing in front of her powerful telekinetic mind. The Devi came, twin girls, their bodies’ movements oozing power, their dark eyes daring Angel to deny them their part in the approaching battle.
But the greatest surprise had been the Children.
Cordelia whimpered when Angel gently slipped a knee between her thighs, urging her legs further apart. The crop moved over her in a whisper of suede and its texture intrigued her. Angel cupped her buttock in one hand as he calmly traced her vertebrae from the base of her skull to the small of her back. He twirled the crop in repeated little circles in the hollow at the base of her spine.
“Please Angel!” Please touch me! Please take me!
“Shhh.” He pressed the length of his body against her from behind as he clamped a hand over her mouth. “Be still,” he whispered as her warm backside danced against his thick manhood. His palm stroked leisurely over her mouth, down her chin and jaw, the elegant column of her throat, and swept over her chest. “Now!” he scolded when she whimpered softly. He gripped the chains hanging between her nipple clamps and tugged roughly.
She held herself as still as she could, biting her lip.
His lips brushed the side of her neck, his tongue flicked over the thick scar from where he’d taken her the first time. He’d been deliberately cruel to leave a lasting mark on her, a symbol of his ownership, proof that she belonged to him, completely. The mark never failed to remind him of Cordelia’s acceptance of him. All of him.
He pushed against her until his swollen shaft nestled happily between her luscious ass cheeks. He held her firmly with one arm around her waist; with the other, he slowly teased her belly button with the riding crop until she trembled and struggled not to laugh from the tickling sensation of it.
He guided the crop lower, to her lace-covered vulva. He traced the edges of her G-string, then stroked the very center of the drenched black lace triangle.
The crop easily found the shape of her plump pretty cleft and began to stroke her steadily. She struggled to keep her balance in her high heels as her hips writhed forward against the sweet pressure and friction. Angel’s warm strong hand opened, fingers spreading, covering her belly.
He pressed closer to Cordelia as he buried his face in her thick hair. Her silk-covered legs quivered against the strong columns of his thighs. Her body heat and womanly juices created an erotic fragrance that enveloped his senses. His rigid shaft yielded a few drops of fluid on the woman’s warm bottom.
He lifted the crop a few inches away from her wet mound, then brought it down with a soft swish. It was a carefully measured stroke, the last thing he wanted to do was injure the delicate feminine tissues when they were so sensitive and swollen.
“Oh!” Her cry was heartachingly sweet. “Angel!”
His other arm tightened around her waist as her body shuddered and her knees buckled. He guided her gently to her knees on the plush dark blue and gold patterned Aubusson carpet and knelt behind her.
Angel’s hand slipped into the sparse waistband and gave a swift tug. The G-string dropped away from her body and his fingers covered the neatly groomed little triangle of dark curls saturated in honeyed heat from inside her. He cupped her swollen labia comfortingly, parted the thickened lips with his fingers as he sought the delicate jewel hidden within.
His fingers swirled over the knot of heated flesh; gently, he pinched her.
Cordelia groaned, a low deep cry, as she came, spilling fresh liquid heat on her husband’s fingers while he murmured encouragement. She felt his knee against the back of her thighs and spread her legs to make room for him.
Angel gripped her curved hips as he positioned his shaft just outside her precious cleft. He thrust forward hard and growled his pleasure as he was buried inside of Cordelia’s tight, clinging folds.
“Yes Angel!” she moaned. “Oh!”
He withdrew about halfway, then slammed back into her welcoming wetness. She moaned hungrily. He thrust so deeply his scrotum lightly slapped her buttocks and Cordelia shuddered in ecstasy. Angel reached under her to pinch her engorged clitoris as he rotated his hips in a circular motion.
“Cordy!” he growled.
Her inner walls contracted tightly around him, clasping and squeezing rhythmically. He held her hips firmly as he bent to kiss her neck and shoulders.
“Ooooh–Angel! Please!” Cordelia rocked back hard against him.
He reached for her breast and cupped the firm flesh in his hand. Tugging away the nipple clamp, he circled the hard little nub with his fingers.
“Aahhhhh! Ohhh! Angel!”
With a low growl, he thrust roughly into her tight woman’s channel, rocking furiously against her bucking hips.
He bit her shoulder as he came, almost but not quite drawing blood. Cordelia wailed under him but didn’t fight as his orgasm thundered into her body, an incredible release of tension. She quivered violently as the powerful man thrust deeper, spilling hot liquid seed into her womb.
Angel collapsed against her, drawing her body down under his weight. He rolled over onto his back and held his trembling, panting wife close to his chest. She kissed his warm smooth skin and snuggled against him. He smiled indulgently, let her adjust her position so she could feel his heartbeat against her cheek.
She loved that sound, loved it almost as much as she loved him.
They weren’t children anymore. But Cordelia had always thought of them as the Children after the only other time they’d ever met. Three seers, each of them physically blind, each of them on Wolfram and Hart’s Most Wanted–Dead list.
They were just babies–perhaps six or seven years old–when their parents and guardians had brought them together in Los Angeles before they entered the sanctuary of a Tibetan monastery. Wolfram and Hart had sent a powerful human assassin to kill the young seers and Angel had beaten her off with the help of Lindsey MacDonald, one of the firm's own associates.
Now, they were a little older than Cordelia had been when she first saw them. Lian, the Chinese girl, slim and willowy with a face like a flower and deep-set dark eyes filled with love and patience. Jose, the Brazilian boy, now a broad-shouldered young man who spoke twelve languages fluently and liked snowboarding. And Kayin, the ebony-skinned boy from Yoruba, who lived his adult life under a vow of silence as he practiced healing.
Cordelia felt a little discomfited by their closeness as she met with them in her apartment. Kayin and Jose sat at either side of Lian on a loveseat that was really only meant for two people. And yet they seemed very at ease and comfortable with their closeness. Like a litter of puppies, Cordelia thought. Except that they were grown up.
“You let him drink from you.” Lian’s voice was as sweet and loving as her appearance, without a hint of censure. Still, Cordelia felt defensive.
“I had to,” she tried to explain. “He was going to die.”
“Then you should have let him die,” Jose declared brusquely. “He has already lived several lifetimes.”
“Excuse me?” Cordelia folded her arms and glared at Jose through narrowed eyes. “You weren’t concerned about that when he saved your life, were you?”
Jose glowered in her direction. Lian sighed and looked dismayed at her friend’s churlishness. Kayin took Lian’s hand in his, stroked her comfortingly. The Yoruban healer looked toward Cordelia and it seemed his eyes met hers as compassion flowed out of them. But he can’t really see me. Or can he? Either way, Cordelia felt a little better.
“Cordelia,” Lian said soothingly. “We all owe Angelus a debt we may never repay. I have loved and prayed for him every day of my life since I first–” An ironic smile touched her delicate pink mouth. “–saw him. But he is still an unnatural creature in this world.”
Part of Cordelia longed to tell the girl off as viciously as she had ever put down her old high school enemies. But it had been nearly twenty years since she’d graduated and she was past that kind of foolishness. How could she explain what she felt about Angel? How much it had hurt to pull him out of that cage when he was freezing and starving, his beautiful body now gaunt and heaving, his skin a series of hideous discolorations on a sickly white background. His agonised groans were mere whispers when she, Gunn, and Wesley had carried him away.
That had been the day Cordelia decided she would watch the decline of Wolfram and Hart for personal reasons.
“He was going to die. He was suffering horribly,” she repeated flatly.
“So badly you couldn’t wait half an hour to get him home and feed him?” Lian listened to Cordelia pace slowly down the width of the front of her apartment, her chunky little boot heels tapping on the hardwood floor. The ghost companion, Dennis, hovered near her. Lian made a mental note to send the spirit homeward once the battle was over.
“He was in pain.” Cordelia’s voice was little more than a whisper.
Besides, it had felt so good to feed Angel, to give him something of herself. Her body and her heart had ached for him for too long without hope of any fulfillment. It had been a beautiful thing to cradle Angel’s head in her arm as he swallowed the ready flow from her cut wrist, then grew strong enough to pull on the flow with his lips. The ugly bruises and lacerations on his face began to heal incredibly fast. One particularly ugly wound on his scalp turned from black to red to pale pink, then creamy white before Angel’s thick dark hair grew back over it. It was like the wound had never existed.
“I didn’t want to wait.” Cordelia sheltered her memory of the most intimate thing she and Angel had ever done. “He needed to feed. I fed him.” She brushed her hands together dismissively. “Case closed.”
Jose made an impatient noise. “You thought only of easing your lover’s discomfort,” he said stonily.
“No!” Dark hazel eyes flashed angrily. “We aren’t lovers.” She toed the edge of the baseboard near the doorway to her kitchen.
Lian’s laughter rippled through the room, soft and sweet like a river of joy; an almost irresistible sound, it coated the room with love.
“It’s not that simple, Cordelia.” Jose’s voice had softened a bit. “You think because you haven’t touched each other you aren’t lovers. But that’s not what’s in your heart.”
“Or his,” Lian added sweetly.
Cordelia didn’t argue the point with them. As a seer, she knew it was pointless. Why argue the truth when they could see it?
“What’s your point?” She wondered why it was hard to meet their gazes. After all, they were blind.
“You won’t have any more visions,” Lian told her, just as sweetly as she said everything else. “That gift is no longer needed.”
“Why?” Cordelia’s mind worked furiously.
“Because this is Angelus’s last fight, his last test. He won’t need a seer anymore.”
Cordelia felt her heart break as she gazed around her ordinary living room furniture. Throw rugs on the floor near the tiny fireplace, a sculpted crystal candle holder shaped like a sleeping cat, a painted landscape of rolling green farmland on the wall.
“So.” Cordelia swallowed. “He’ll be free. At last.” How was it possible to be so genuinely happy for him and so sorry for herself? He won’t need a seer anymore. “He’ll be a man–a human.”
Always a catch...
Cordelia raised her elegantly arched eyebrows at Jose. “What exactly?” she asked.
“It’s not just the human in Angelus who fought these battles,” Lian explained.
“Can you please stop saying his name like that?” Cordelia felt her nerves going to the breaking point.
“It’s the demon within him that makes him strong and able to fight. The demon is guided by his human soul, true.” Lian lifted her delicate hand for silence when Cordelia opened her mouth to speak. “But it is the demon who has laboured and worked for our side, albeit unwillingly, the same as the soul.”
“What are you telling me?” Cordelia felt the blood drain from her face.
“That the demon must be rewarded as well as the man and the soul. All have served faithfully, all must be rewarded.”
How funny, Cordelia thought to herself. When you put it like that, it almost sounds reasonable. Of course, Lian had never seen Angelus on a bad day. Or even a good one.
“How will he be rewarded?” Cordelia wondered. She pictured Angelus loose in the world again, rampaging, killing, scourging Los Angeles as he had once scourged Europe. Tears burned her eyes as she remembered the long looks she and Angel shared at quiet moments when they were alone together.
“With the dearest desire in his heart. Being merely human, we are all able to lie to ourselves and pretend we want things to be a certain way. But the heart wants what the heart wants. We can deny that desire, but it is still there.” Lian smiled. “The blood you gave him, though. It changes things a little.”
“Get up on the bed, baby. On your hands and knees.”
Angel raised himself upon his elbows to watch Cordelia obey him. She made a glorious picture as she crawled onto the velvet coverlet. Her long hair fell over arms and crept over her hands. Her breasts dangled prettily like ripe apples on a graceful branch. Her ass rose proudly, a beautiful full moon above her dark-stockinged legs.
He sat on the bed beside her and clasped her ankle in one hand. He traced the seam of her stocking with one finger and Cordelia moaned as fresh liquid heat pooled between her thighs.
Angel grinned. He wondered how he had never recognised Cordelia’s submissiveness before. Angelus must have smelled it a mile away. The woman had been willing to sacrifice anything for his sake. Oh, she had a mouth on her and she liked to queen it in public. But in bed, Cordelia Chase was an old-fashioned girl.
She really was just what he needed.
His fingers followed the seam up to the stretchy lace top of the stocking, then following the scalloped edge just below the sweet crease where her thighs joined into her ass. Bending over her bottom, he blew a stream of cool air onto her rear cleft.
“Oh!” Cordelia glanced back at him over her shoulder. He raised an eyebrow and his hard lips twisted into a crooked little smirk.
He moved the crop down between Cordelia’s slim thighs and softly touched her pubic lips, then eased past them. Cordelia made a desperate little moan when she felt the blunt tip of the suede touch the hard little pearl of hungry heat, push slowly against it in a leisurely rhythm, teasing, driving her to a higher level of passion.
She jumped when he pressed his warm lips into the small of her back and he chuckled at her surprised squeal. He bit her softly on her ass, a gentle grip of teeth on her cheek and she moaned. He bit harder, leaving a soft indention of his teeth on her, and smiled as her hips rolled forward against the crop.
“No!” Cordelia nearly sobbed as he drew the flexible leather rod away from her most sensitive spot.
“Yes, Cordy.” His voice was hard, brooking no argument. “I want you all warmed up for me.”
Slowly, he inserted the crop into her body. She yipped and tried to crawl away from it. In a second he straddled her lean thighs and gripped her by a fistful of hair. He forced her face down into the mattress and she gave him an appealing whimper. He knew perfectly well Cordelia did not like it when he used objects to penetrate her; she only wanted to be filled by him. Still, he did this to her from time to time for his own pleasure and to remind her who he was.
By God, they would never go back to the days when she regarded him with casual affection, where she paraded stupid boyfriends that didn’t even interest her to discourage him, where she pretended their love was only fraternal! She would never forget who was boss. She would know he was master still, even if he wasn’t really a vampire anymore.
He slowly pushed a good eight inches of the crop into her, withdrew partially, then thrust harder in.
He smiled at the edge of tears in her voice and quickened the rhythm of the crop.
“You like it?”
“Even when I make you come?”
“Angel!” she sobbed helplessly.
“You know what I want, Cordy.” His voice was hard, implacable. He gave her ass an encouraging pat.
She began to ride the crop for him. Angel watched her lovely back arch, lifting her buttocks higher, and she rolled her hips forward to meet the crop’s upward movement.
“Good girl. That’s my baby.” He watched her hungrily, her thigh muscles tensing to help lift and roll her ass, her shuddering back, the dark suede growing even darker as her essence coated it.
He reached under her and pinched her swollen pubic lips, massaged gently with the pads of his fingers.
She screamed his name, her hips snapping back and forth, back and forth, as she climaxed hard.
“Yes, baby.” He pulled her up to her knees to face him and devoured her mouth with a forceful kiss. He nibbled her upper lip a little too sharply to be pleasurable and suckled her lower lip, his hot tongue battering into her mouth to sweep over her interior and leave trails of fire in his wake. She smelled hot and sweet as she kissed back hungrily.
He cupped her ass cheeks as he squeezed her pelvis against his and Cordelia sighed as Angel’s rampant sex pressed into her drenched pubic curls. He was ready for her again.
He broke the fierce kiss between them and smiled down at her. She was covered with a sweet rosy flush, her deep hazel eyes hazy with desire.
“I love you ao much!” She clung to his neck and kissed his hard mouth again, softly this time.
“Mmmm...Yes, baby.” He teased her swollen lips with the tip of his tongue. "I love you too, darling."
Cordelia cried out when he brought the crop down in a hard stroke against her buttocks. Tears filled her eyes. Her bottom felt an aching itching stripe of redness. Angel smiled down at her, so beautiful and tender. Her Angel. Hers forever. All of him.
And she was his.
“You don’t make me wait when I want you, Cordy.”
CRACK! The blow struck against the lower curve of her ass and Cordelia shrieked at the white-hot stripe of pain rattling through her nerve endings.
Angel watched her bruised, kiss-swollen mouth quiver and tremble. Her eyes shone with jewel-like tears.
“Beautiful,” he whispered admiringly.
“Please.” She sighed the word low, under her breath.
His third blow struck her hard in the tender little crease at the top of her thighs. The stripe throbbed unbearably and wept one crimson tear.
Cordelia screamed and collapsed against her husband’s chest. His strong arm closed around her waist and he kissed her face softly as her tears spilled obligingly onto her cheeks.
“Angel!” she sobbed.
He stroked her bottom soothingly, gently pinched the welts on her ass as he kissed her consolingly, drinking in her kisses, her tears, and her delicious arousal for him.
“Cordelia, your blood isn’t natural human blood anymore,” Lian explained gently.
“I know that. I told the PTB’s it was all right to demonise me. It was the only way I could survive the visions and keep helping Angel.” How strange, when she looked back on that moment. How carelessly she’d thrown away part of her humanity for Angel’s sake. Because you love him. Without a thought, without negotiation, without even a worry for how the change might impact her own life. Because you love him. Then again, over the years, she’d risked it all for him plenty of times because she–
“Do you know what kind of demon you’ve become?”
“Only half and no, I don’t.”
“You’re not a demon.”
“Come again?” Cordelia looked at the seers blankly.
Jose shrugged. “It’s not beyond the Greater Powers to transform a living creature to a different type of creature, but it would have been pointless to put you through such a traumatic thing when there was an easier way.”
“But the messenger said–”
“He was confused,” Jose intoned airily as he sipped a diet cola Dennis brought him. “He explained the truth as he understood it. The word ‘demon’ is very old. It’s original meaning was a simple spiritual entity, corporeal or not, good or evil.”
“So, I’m a demon, but I’m not really a demon." Cordelia couldn't keep the hint of biting sarcasm from her tone. Some habits were hard to break.
Jose sighed at her lack of understanding. Lian placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. Kayin smiled patiently, reassuringly.
“The Greater Powers simply allowed your own demon–your own spiritual essence–to evolve to a greater level than your material essence. Surely you’ve noticed you’re not getting any older?”
Cordelia was silent for a moment as she absorbed what the Children told her. It had taken her some time to realise that her body wasn’t ageing and had remained the same since she’d agreed to the change. She’d always assumed it was a lucky consequence of her voluntary conversion. Or maybe the PTB’s wanted her to stay young and fit to keep helping Angel.
Lian, Jose, and Kayin all nodded affirmatively together, as though she’d answered them vocally.
“Your spiritual immortality is overpowering your natural mortal degeneration,” Jose explained casually, like this sort of thing happened all the time. “You’re not exactly indestructible, but it wouldn’t be easy to kill you. Your body would have to be totally obliterated.”
“And you’re probably disease-proof,” Lian added helpfully.
Cordelia shrugged. “If I’m not meant to have visions anymore why don’t the Powers change me back?”
“Because, again, it would be traumatic, perhaps even detrimental to you. It’s much easier to encourage a normal pattern of development or growth than to reverse it. It would be like trying to change an old man into an infant.”
“The Greater Powers also trust you, Cordelia,” Lian added proudly. “You’ve never abused your gifts or used them to do harm. The powers you’ve discovered–healing, drawing sickening evil from men’s hearts–are a natural reflection of who you really are inside.” She shrugged. “Perhaps it was your soul’s destiny all along to have this gift.”
“You might say you’re an angel with a human body,” Jose concluded.
Kayin beamed at her, his strong teeth shiny white.
“But what about Angel?” Cordelia asked. “How could drinking my blood affect him?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Angel’s body thundered into hers as he pinned Cordelia down on her back. She moaned increasingly louder with each thrust of his hips. His eyes, dark hot chocolate, searched Cordelia’s face for answers. Does it hurt? Does it feel good? Do you like it? He reveled in her loud cries and deep groans. Tears streamed down her face and her body glistened with perspiration. He knew her bottom smarted even as he filled her with ecstasy. He cupped her ass cheeks and squeezed the welts.
“I–wanted–you,” he panted as he entered and withdrew repeatedly in her inviting heat. “For so long, Cordy.”
“Me too!” Her long silk-covered legs snaked around his lean hips and hugged him tightly.
“Nearly made me crazy!” He lifted her hips until he could thrust almost straight down into her. Cordelia screamed her pleasure at the depth of his penetration. She gleamed with sweat, her dark eyes sparkling through her tears, and she smiled up to him.
“I love you so much!” he snarled.
“I love you, too!” She contracted her inner muscles to cling to his plunging shaft. Angel bent over her beautiful breasts and swept a small storm of kisses upon her bare flesh. He kissed and licked her nipples like they were the best thing he ever tasted.
Cordelia hit her plateau screaming with joy. Wave after wave of near-unbearable pleasure rippled and shuddered and engulfed her body like a tidal wave. Angel kissed the corners of her brilliant eyes as he cupped and kneaded her breasts and he snarled as her nails scored his back.
“Ah! Cordy!” He buried his face in her neck and thrust harder, more quickly as he spasmed and rushed and spilled inside her body.
A second later her tight interior tightened further around his thickness as she threw her head back while she cried aloud and her legs collapsed into soft tremors.
For a while, the couple lay still, savoring the golden feeling of their joined bodies. Cordelia smiled without opening her eyes. She could feel Angel; his skin, his powerful muscular form, his hair, his breath, his heartbeat, his sweet soul. Tenderly, he kissed the tear stains on her face and softly kissed her bruised mouth. He lifted her onto her belly on his chest so as not to irritate the pretty stripes on her ass.
They would heal later that day, or perhaps tomorrow.
The couple basked in the quiet joy of being together in a special world just for them: a warm, safe place free of judgement and inhibition.
“You’ve given me something so special, Cordy.” Angel’s voice rolled softly over them. He pressed another warm kiss on her temple as she snuggled against his powerful body. “I love you.”
“I love you, Angel.” She sighed contentedly.
Clad only in Angel’s embrace, Cordelia wondered at the outcome of fate. The man Angel had become was so much more and less than she had feared. Less broody. More cruel. Sensual. Dominant. Protective and powerful. Loving and honest about it. Yeah, the demon-vampire-human hybrid was a real hottie.
She wondered if they would ever age normally and die naturally like true humans. The Children hadn't known and the Powers weren’t telling. Too busy with new heroes and servants carrying on the good fight.
Cordelia sighed. For now, she didn’t worry about it. She wanted to be with Angel. Travel with him, make love with him. Be dominated and loved by him in every way without shame.
“Want some breakfast?” Angel stroked her shining hair.
“Four cheese omelet with basil and green onions?” Cordelia smiled brightly. She also wanted to eat with him. The man was a chef.
“And some French toast and Canadian bacon,” Angel quipped. “Done.” He kissed her again and slowly, reluctantly, settled her on the bed and rose from her side.
Cordelia watched his firm muscles bunch and play as he slipped into a pair of denim shorts. He looked great in denim now that his skin had a touch of color in it from long happy walks in the sunshine.
She giggled and her strong handsome husband turned to look back at her.
“What’s so funny?” He smirked Angelus’s crooked little smirk but his brown eyes held Angel’s warmth. The combination was devastatingly sexy.
“You’re perfect.” She giggled again. “An angel in the kitchen and a devil in the bedroom.”
They laughed heartily together.
And I love laughing with him! I love the way his face dimples when he laughs. I love feeling warm-cuddly when he’s so happy. Laughing’s one of the best things we do!
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