"The Taking of Cordelia"

Written: 02. 11. 02 - 02. 26. 02

Takes Place: In season 1, at the end of "Eternity". What might have happened if Wesley hadn’t woken up immediately after having been knocked out by "Angelus".

Backstory and Summary: Right before the events in this fic, Rebecca (an actress who wanted Angel to turn her into a vampire) spiked Angel’s drink with a happy pill, which caused the curse on him to be lifted just long enough to terrorize the actress, Cordelia, and Wesley. In the original version, Cordelia psyched him out with some water, telling him it was holy water, and Wesley woke up after having been knocked out and pushed Angelus down the elevator shaft. They then tied him up and waited for him to awaken. When he did, he was himself again. I’ve always thought this episode was crap anyway, because A) we’re supposed to believe that a drug induced perfect happiness in him, B) we’re supposed to believe that it was only (air quote) "temporary", and C) we’re supposed to believe that the poof that was Wesley at the time could actually have subdued Angelus, the scourge of Europe. Pfft. What follows is a possible alternative ending to the episode.

Author’s Note: What follows is categorized as PWP, non-con. What this means is that there is Porn Without (much) Plot, and Non-Consensual sex, and if you are under 18 years of age or offended by reading such material you should turn away now. Similarly, if you cannot tell the difference between fantasy and reality, please do not read my fic. Those of you who can appreciate a little harmless fantasy, read on ;)

The Taking of Cordelia

When Cordelia threw the bottled water in his face, Angelus’ expression quickly changed to fear, and then back again to arrogant pleasure when he realized she’d been bluffing about the holy water after all. The instant she’d doused him, Cordelia bolted for the door, but Angelus was too quick for her. He snatched her wrist and yanked her back, and when she fell back against him, off balance, he shoved her toward the desk. She struck it hard, and would have fallen if the vampire hadn’t immediately pressed behind her, shoving and bending her over the desk.

Held immobile, her head turned so that the right side of her face was pressed against the surface of the desk by the vampire’s hand, Cordelia heard a clatter as Rebecca regained her senses and ran from the room. She felt Angelus turn; imagined him trying to decide whether or not to go after her. She could get help, tell someone…but Cordelia knew just as well as he did that no one would believe her; there was no help coming.

Desperately, her thoughts turned to Wesley, who was still lying unconscious on the floor where Angelus had tossed him. Please wake up, please wake up, please wake up… she thought. Angelus seemed almost to read her thoughts. He leaned into her, over her, so that his lips were near her ear when he spoke softly. "He can’t help you," he said in a mocking tone that sent her blood running like ice water. "He’s out cold. No one can help you. It’s just you….and me." 

On the last, Angelus’ voice dipped suggestively, and he moved a little, pressing into her from behind. The deliberate action was overtly sexual, and Cordelia wanted desperately to tear herself away from him…fight back; get away. 

But this was Angelus. She knew what he was capable of. She’d seen him in action before. There was no fighting against him…torture and cruelty were his specialties, and terror ran rampant through her as she realized just how helpless she was against him. Working with Angel, the souled vampire, she had taken for granted his strength, his unnatural force and will, and the evil kept at bay within him.

Angelus though, was a predator. And people, to him, were the prey. He could smell her fear…taste it on the air between them…and it aroused him. It had been far too long sine he’d gotten to play.

Watching for her reaction, he ground his pelvis against her buttocks, allowing her to feel his growing erection. She gasped involuntarily, and tried to stop her moan of terror and shame, but his pleased chuckle told her she’d failed. Suddenly his weight left her as he straightened, and he pulled her into a standing position against him, though she was still facing away from him, forced against the desk. 

He pulled her tightly against him, one arm snaked around her waist to hold her there firmly. His other hand crept up and buried itself in her hair. She felt his fingers reach her scalp…his hand molding against the contour of the back of her head, until he suddenly grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked her head back and to the right, exposing her neck to him.

Angelus bent his head down to her neck and bared his fangs. He hovered there, only millimeters above her warm, tender skin. He could sense the blood pulsing there, just beneath the surface, rushing faster now as a result of Cordelia’s heaving gasps, and fear-induced adrenaline. He could feel it throbbing within her without even touching her. Her terror tantalized him almost as much as the presence of all of that warm lifeblood, and he inhaled her scent to further heighten his senses.

Cordelia tried to remain absolutely still. Being petrified over what he was planning on doing to her didn’t help her resolve any. Her instincts were screaming at her to flee, but something baser, something even more primal held her there, frozen. Some primitive part of her brain wouldn’t let her move, hoping against all reason that the predator would move on, and that she would escape alive. But she knew there was no way he was going to let her go. No way that she could defeat his physical strength, and she trembled from the heart-sinking dread of what he was going to do to her.

Her heart thudded quickly in her chest, so fast she knew he could hear it, and she suddenly remembered a documentary she’d seen once. In it, a lion had stumbled across a baby water buffalo sleeping alone on the plain. Asleep, it had been unaware of the big cat’s approach until suddenly it sprang awake, adrenaline pumping, face to face with the creature that would kill it, too late to flee for its life.

Even knowing, surely, that there was no way it was going to escape being killed and eaten, the little buffalo froze, terrified but unable to move for fear of drawing the lion’s attention. But by that point, it was far, far too late. 

Cordelia remembered all too well the small creature’s sudden desperate, pathetic, impossible dash away from the lion, and recalled vividly the way the predator had immediately honed in on its prey, and caught up with it and killed it in a few short strides.

Right now, she knew exactly how the buffalo had felt. 

She stood helpless in his grasp, all of her senses alert and tingling, hyper-aware of every hard inch of him behind her. She could practically feel his fangs scraping her neck, though he had yet to pierce her skin. And with sudden clarity she realized he was doing the same thing the lion had. She was powerless in his hold, but instead of just going in for the kill he was toying with her…drawing out her terror and feeding off of it. Reveling in it. Getting off on it. 

Her fear and shame only intensified as he leaned his head down that last little bit and pressed his lips to her neck, sucking lightly without having broken the skin. It wasn’t a kiss…it was a mockery. A tool to show her what he wanted.

Cordelia fought back the sudden stinging of hopeless tears in her eyes as his hands slid down to the swell of her hips. His fingers splayed across them possessively; he pulled her into his groin, and nibbled at her neck again. She fought back a sob when she felt his erection digging into her through their clothes, and his evil laugh let her know he’d heard that, too.

"What’s the matter, Cordelia?" he asked, his lips again at her ear as one of his hands slid down to the ‘V’ between her legs. "Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about this. I know I have…" 

Trembling, she was helpless to stop him as she stroked her through the thin material of her pants, his expert fingers causing unwanted but undeniable sensations. Humiliation flooded through her, even as she realized this was why he was doing it. To make her feel worse for not being unaffected by his forced touch. 

She couldn’t prevent the hitch in her breath, however, when his fingers sped in their ministrations, and she suddenly found herself teetering on the precipice of sudden orgasm.

No…no… she thought, ashamed and embarrassed at what he was doing to her, and by her body’s traitorous response. No… 

This time if he was aware of her thoughts, he didn’t care. He could smell the arousal he wrought from her unwillingly, and growled low in his throat as his torture of her took a back seat to the much more immediate lust that needed to be fulfilled.

He was forceful when he wrenched her around to face him. She cried out, and he pinned her against the desk with his body and yanked her face to his for a bruising kiss. Her fear levels went through the roof, and he fed off of it; her terror was a tangible aphrodisiac that made him want to claim her, mark her, fuck her, kill her…not necessarily in that order.

He pulled violently at her clothes, tearing fabric and sending buttons flying.  

Cordelia sobbed. "No…Angel, please….don’t do this…" and it was music to his ears. He ripped her blouse off, and tore at her bra until it was in shreds on the floor. He crushed her to him again, raining savage kisses on her lips, her neck, her shoulder. Biting down there, but not too hard…not yet. The friction of his shirt against her bare breasts caused her nipples to harden, and then he was ripping at his own shirt. Now his skin was to her skin…his arms around her like a vice, holding her to him and she couldn’t move, she couldn’t breathe; he was crushing her, hurting her and killing her by making her feel things she shouldn’t want to feel.

His shirt hung down, open around her when he pushed her back flat so that she lay upon the desk beneath him. The width of the desk was just enough so that the far edge dug into the back of her skull when it rested upon the surface, and her butt was half on, half off. She was off balance, and lying there alone she might have fallen off, but his body above her kept her pressed down on the surface of the desk as he ripped at her pants. Shredding and tearing the material, he soon had her completely nude beneath him, and Cordelia had never felt so emotionally or physically naked as she did in that moment, as he scrutinized her trembling form beneath him.

Abruptly he ceased his violent assault upon her, but his chilling, calm attention to her next was far worse. She knew now that there was no escape…he was going to rape her, and drink her, and then kill her. Desperately, she hoped that Wesley’s guess had been correct. She hoped against hope that the effect of the drug Rebecca had given him would wear off. But she didn’t know if that was even possible. Now that Angel’s soul had been taken away…how could it be returned again when the drug wore off?

All thought…hope…fear…despair…it all fled her mind a moment later when the vampire leaned over her and kissed her almost tenderly. Were it not for his vampiric visage, and the feel of his fangs against her lip, and the violent nature of this assault until now, Cordelia might have wondered at his gentleness. But she stiffened as she realized that he was still toying with her. Torturing her in a different way.

He ran his hands over her smooth skin, starting at her neck and working his way down over the base of her throat. He paused there, and traced his fingertips lightly over her collar bone. Cordelia shivered under his slightly cool touch, still afraid, and disgusted by the sensations that coursed through her. This was his plan, she knew. To not only terrify and torture her, but to make her feel shame and humiliation for helplessly responding to his stimulation. She couldn’t help but gasp when his hands moved down to her breasts. He cupped their round fullness in his palms and squeezed. Lowering himself, he brought his mouth to them and nipped lightly at the swell of her flesh. Taking a nipple into his mouth, he ran his tongue over its swollen tip, making her sigh involuntarily. Angelus grinned lewdly, and continued his exploration of her body. His hands skimmed down over her flat abdomen, tracing down her legs, and running back up along the insides of her thighs. When the girl beneath him twitched in response, he paused and leaned over her again on one hand. Pressed against her, he watched her face intently as his free hand trailed up an inner thigh again and cupped the mound between her legs. He watched her eyes widen, and felt her breath come heavier as his fingers delved into her crevices, running up her slit; brushing over her clit lightly.

Waves of mortification washed over her and he smiled cruelly when he saw it reach her face. Delighting in her emotional turmoil and degradation, he repeated the movement, and this time his deft fingers stayed to exquisitely manipulate her center. 

Cordelia jerked, her hands pushing at his chest even as her head fell back at the physical pleasure that assaulted her. She wanted to resist. She wanted to fight him. But he hovered over her, his muscular body pressing on top of her; holding her down. And she couldn’t block out what he was doing to her. His face was pressed right next to hers. He watched her struggle with herself as she panted and spasmed at his manipulations, yet pushed futilely against his chest. She was dismayed to hear herself moan, and her heart sank when Angelus leered at her, "Well, looks like we know what kind of girl you are, Miss Chase," he taunted her.

Cordelia flushed and felt humiliated all over again. The vampire nodded in the direction of Wesley’s unconscious form. "What would you do if he woke up right now, huh?" He punctuated his question by inserting a finger inside her, while continuing to stimulate her clitoris with his thumb. Cordelia gasped again, and turned her head slightly to see that Wesley was still lying on the floor, out cold. She thought about him waking up, seeing them there like this, and for the first time through the whole encounter, she was unable to keep back the tears that filled her eyes. They slid silently down, across her nose and into her other eye…falling onto the desk beneath her cheek.

"And what about Doyle?" Angel breathed. Cordelia felt his hand move away, and then heard the unmistakable rasp of his zipper. She died a little inside at his question, as he stepped up in between her spread legs. She felt his unbound erection press against her entrance. "What would he think about you if he knew?" he went on, mercilessly beating her down. And as he opened her to him, he whispered almost lovingly in her ear. "What would he think of his Princess?"

A strangled cry escaped her lips and he entered her roughly, sighing unnecessarily at her warmth surrounding him. When he’d penetrated her fully, he withdrew and entered her again, sliding into her with ease.

Cordelia groaned as he buried himself inside her. He took hold of each of her wrists and pinned them down on either side of her head as he shifted his weight atop her, pressing her down as his much larger frame hunched over her. There was no room between them; his muscular body covered hers completely. His weight pressed down against her full breasts, creating a soft swell of cleavage that he seared with his lips. He kissed a trail up to her throat, and then though the tears along her jaw line, ending with a final brush against her lips. He then pulled back just enough to look into her face as he started to thrust into her slowly; methodically.

Cordelia was almost in shock, unable to cope with the feel of him inside her; too conflicted over the miasma of emotions and sensations assaulting her senses. Humiliation, terror, shame, despair…lust. Angelus knew his craft well…by caressing her, stimulating her, bringing her to the point of orgasm and then backing off, he had created a sense of unfulfilled longing in her. He’d made her want it. Not in the sense that she had any choice; not that she could stop him…but her body now wanted … needed the release he could give her.

Slowly, so slowly he withdrew, and allowed only the head of his cock to penetrate her slick opening. He hovered there, thrusting in short, shallow movements, baiting her. Cordelia fought to remain still, fought to feel nothing, but she couldn’t block out the way he had felt inside her; the maddeningly little he was giving her now. To her mortification she realized she wanted all of him back inside her, and her hips twitched and arced upward, seeking him. His body still pressed her down, and every one of his abbreviated movements against her brought unbearable, enticing friction to her skin. His muscles flexed and worked against her as he held her down and teased her with the tip of his cock.

She quivered like a strung bow, yearning for release, and yet afraid of it. This didn’t seem real…it didn’t seem like it was really happening. She could still see Wesley unconscious – dead? – lying in the corner. What would he think of her should he awaken to see her naked form writhing beneath Angelus on the desk before him? What would he say when he heard her moan in pleasure?

He continued to tease her with his short thrusts, and she felt a sense of unfulfilled frustration growing within her. To her horror she began to ache, her body wanting him back inside her fully, even though she did not. Still watching her face closely, he saw when she lost the battle with her own body, and gave in to the feelings he sparked in her. Triumphant, he let loose a sudden ferocity upon her as he abruptly impaled her fully with his cock.

Cordelia nearly screamed from the pain / pleasure of his re-entry, and clutched at him involuntarily when he released her wrists to grasp the edge of the desk on either side of her head. Using it as leverage, he drove himself into her and ground against her, then started pumping again. His strokes were long and deep and hard; frenzied now as he fucked down into her.

She tried to distance herself from what was going on, tried to disconnect herself from what he was doing to her, but she couldn’t. He moved inside her, on top of her, and he wouldn’t let her be numb. He kissed her, and ran his hands over her body, squeezing and stroking as he grunted with effort. She couldn’t block out the tide of pleasure rising within her as his every move brought her closer and closer to the edge. He quickened, his thrusts into her becoming frenzied, and she couldn’t catch her breath as he fucked her harshly. Suddenly she was falling, she was sliding toward that edge, and she cried out. She couldn’t stop it, couldn’t slow it, she could only hold on to him as he carried her over, and his cries joined hers as he jerked and spasmed when he came inside her. His climax seemed to trigger her own, and she came violently around him, her vaginal walls clamping down on his spurting cock as she shuddered from the pleasure and release. Wave after wave of the orgasm washed over her as he thrusted in and out of her a few more times, drawing out his own pleasure, before finally collapsing atop her.

Perhaps a minute passed, as they lie there gasping. Cordelia’s heart gradually slowed down, and she felt foreboding trickle back into her as the flush from the sex faded. Fearful unease filled her as Angelus slowly pulled back to look her in the face again. His expression was one of smug calculation as he possessively ran a deliberate finger over her lips. "Now what," he asked, falsely casual, "am I going to do with you?"

Wesley awakened to silence. He listened intently from his position on the floor, but could hear nothing beyond the thunder of his pulse in his ears.

Tentatively, he levered himself up on one elbow, and cringed at the twinges of pain in his back and neck from where he’d struck the wall. He looked around, but saw no sign of Angelus, Cordelia, or Rebecca.

Rising, he wondered how long he’d been out. He could only hope for Cordelia’s sake that it wasn’t long; he had no idea whether his theory about Angel’s soul returning as the drug wore off was correct or not.

As he stepped away from the wall his eye fell at last upon the disarray of the room. There was water on the carpet, and the papers and office supplies had been knocked off of the desk. The items now littered the floor.

He frowned down at this discovery, and it was then that he heard a faint noise. It sounded like weeping, and he looked up sharply, honing in on the sound.

Following it out into the outer office, he found Cordelia sitting on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket, sobbing. Concern for her immediately overriding his caution, he rushed to her, kneeling at her side. "Cordelia, are you all right?" he asked.

"Oh she feels all right," a grating voice came from behind him, and he spun on his heel. Angelus was there, his hands folded before him; his shirt was still open. "In fact, she feels pretty damned good," he finished suggestively.

Wesley shot to his feet, moving to stand in front of Cordelia. He had no hopes of protecting her from Angelus, but if he were going to die, he’d go down defending her.

Angel smirked. "Aww, look at that. Watcher boy’s going to defend your honor, Cordy."

Suddenly the hairs on the back of Wesley’s neck stood up, and a feeling of unease overcame him. Operating on some sixth sense, he turned slightly and looked over his shoulder.

Cordelia was there, leering at him, her face a vampiric tableau of horror. "My hero," she said seductively.

| Fiction Search | Home Page | Back |