In Her Dreams by LAndrews
is Sarah McLachlan's - originally written for Kelley's amusement, this turned into more work
than I bargained for- if you like DARK fic, drop me a line off-list and
when the longer, harder to
read, includes what C sometimes dreams instead, version is done, I'll send you a link <g>.
In her dreams, it is always
a midnight blue Porsche that cradles her
within in its
leather depths as she hurtles down the canyon road north of Malibu. She passes forbidding drops and hugs the
walls of the Santa Monica Mountains on her way to Point Dume.
On her way to him.
She feels like maybe
she's been driving this road since the first
time she touched
him, back when all he saw was the one girl in all the world who could possibly overcome his instinct for
survival and grant
him his longed for death.
Angel, pale and
dark, stood still within the chaos of the Bronze. The
washed up against him, leaving girls like shells behind when it retreated. He was a prime example of adult
male. He exuded
strength and sexuality.
She was one of the
few brave enough to step right up to him and take
his measure. She was
tired of high school boys.
But Angel wasn't a
man, and Cordelia wasn't living in the real
world yet. She certainly wasn't what he wanted. And later, when she did understand, she understood all too well. He was
and he definitely was not what she wanted.
Now she wants Angel
with a depth of yearning, a hunger, that not only
makes it hard to
breathe, not only makes her ache with the anticipation
of feeling his arms close around her in something other
than comfort, but
that also makes her shiver, afraid for her very life. Afraid for his.
She loves him, his
soul, regardless of the flesh in which it comes
He saved her, even
though he barely knew her, and then he proceeded
to grow on her.
Never has anyone in her admittedly short existence made her angrier or hurt her so badly. Never has anyone made
smile more, left her
so peaceful, or loved her so unconditionally. He
believes in the
Cordelia that she could be, if she'd just get out of her own damn way.
She gets that now.
The tires hum on the
PCH and Sarah sings about innocence, and the
image of herself in
that blue Porsche, on her way to him, makes her belly tighten, and her skin warm and moisture seep from the
that she wants to
cradle him the way the car cradles her.
And then she can see
him, and in this the dream never changes. He
stands facing the
stiff ocean breeze, his long leather trench swirling back, hands tucked into his pockets. He never turns
when her lights
cut across him, but she can see the faint smile that crooks
his lips, and she
knows just what his eyes would look like if she were standing in front of him. Not dark like when he smiles
before he takes
some demon's head off. No, they'd be lit up inside.For
He never turns
toward the light.
She pulls up beside
the GTX and is out in an instant. Now that she
knows she wants him,
the want is a vicious need clawing at her. She is almost running toward him, through the dark. Angel. Her
drops. Angel. And
she is walking now. She pulls down on the hem of
her favorite black
He's cursed. He's
immortal. He's got his own personal demon in a way no man she ever dated could compete with.
There must be
plenty of guys out there without a single vice, let alone a list.
But she loves him.
She stands behind
him, breathing in the salt air, acclimating her
rhythms to the surf
below. She waits.
Angel reaches back
with one hand and she reaches forward to take it,
stepping up beside
him. The breeze is cooler than she thought, there at the very edge, and his hand is cold. He twines his fingers
still staring off across the vastness of ocean, and it comes to
her, the way
knowledge seems there for the taking in dreams, that he is staring out at time itself, taking stock of where he fits
how he can live with
the love being offered him.
She leans into him
and after a moment he tips his head, and his voice
She nods and he
drops her hand, opening his coat to her. He enfolds
her in his
protection, invites her close, and offers her whatever she may want from him. All this in one small gesture. And she
She accepts, and
slides into his embrace. His false breath warms as
the kiss they share
deepens until she isn't entirely sure of her physical boundaries.
The stars above seem
visible to her, even with her eyes closed, the
pounding of the
waves her blood, the sharp scent his alone, the ground she stands on solid beneath her hands as they follow
the roll of
the muscles in his back.
Gripping her upper
arms to keep her from questing after him, Angel
draws back. And even
though she knows she's dreaming, Cordelia cries out at the separation every time.
he says, his voice breaking on that one word.
"I want this…
I just don't-" He winces, and she knows how he feels, it's a physical hurt, this want.
Something she can
only describe as determination slams her back to
the firmament. Here
she stands, in the dark, on a cold cliffside, small rocks digging into the thin soles of her Jimmy Choos,
brutally hot man who
loves her can't because he fucked up two hundred
and fifty years ago, and is technically undead. She isn't going to take it anymore.
He swims up from
somewhere inside himself, and locks onto her, onto
the steel she can
hear in her own voice, onto the strength that's welling up from the part of her that so desperately wants to
and kill the sexual
tension that's making life so hard to live right
now. She wants to claim some part of him as hers and she doesn't really care, just now, which part.
"I love you.
But we're not talking perfect happiness here.
How can we?"
She always feels commanding here, in control. She tosses her head like she's still Queen C, like she still
"You are a
vampire with a teenage son. I'm not sure when my
next little demon
attribute is gonna show up. And we're in a public
He grins at that,
and she can't help but kiss him. Damn, he makes
her spin. What had
she been doing with Groo?
She moves her hand
down to caress him, a hot thrill spiraling in her
at the hardness he
presses into her hand. He shifts, pulling her tight against him, encouraging her to spread her legs, press
against his thigh. He nibbles on her neck.
Oh, yeah… Groo
wouldn't kill her, no matter how much she loved
him. She groans.
she whispers, "I'm not going to… you know,
He has both his
hands on her bottom, and… undulates… in a way
that has her
gasping. He chuckles at her response and kisses her temple before plundering her mouth, and it's all she can do
stay upright. He
makes her feel like living water, flowing to his
He strokes her back
as he kisses her, unzips her dress, pulls her in
to him and trails
long fingers down her throat, slides her loose top off her shoulders. She craves the feel of his skin, and
breaks the kiss
to linger on his throat. The sweet, spiciness that explodes on
her tongue makes her
dizzy. She suckles.
Angel groans and
laughs. He says her name like a prayer and reclaims
her mouth. Of their
own accord, her hands fist in the fabric separating
Eventually he brings
her down, slows the pace, and she isn't
surprised to find
her breasts released from bondage, his shirt fluttering against her as he gently rubs his thumbs across
nipples. His belt
and top button lay open beneath her hands.
She lets her head
fall back, and he slides his arms around her, curls
over her so his bare
chest just brushes. It makes her want his weight on her. He places butterfly kisses along her collarbone.
An engine growls
toward them, and Angel lifts his head. Every muscle
in him tenses and
the prey in her quivers. He hugs her tight to him, and tucks her head under his chin. Cordy burrows her arms
beneath his shirt.
The tail of his coat lies tangled between their legs.
The car never slows,
its headlights just a flash and a reminder.
moment here…" she whispers, hoping perhaps
he's thinking the
same thing. She's past the point of caring about
her good intentions now. Angel is lean and hard and having him
as hers… claiming
him. Well, suddenly right now seems to be the perfect opportunity.
says. "No perfect moment. You're cold right?
And this is too
exposed." He sounds very sure, and her heart beats faster.
He runs a hand
across her head, tugs gently on her hair until
she's looking up at
him. His eyes tell her all she needs to know. "I'd be much too worried," he says, in a tone so
filled with desire,
that her chest implodes with tenderness. God. She
really loves him.
She kisses him,
follows the line of his lips. He trembles and presses
into her, his tongue
taking possession of her mouth. He thrusts suggestively, and sends heat to all the best parts of her.
She lets her
pelvis tilt and roll against the slow grind of his rigid cock
against her belly.
Angel sweeps her up
and strides across the uneven ground, trailing
pent-up power in his
wake. Cordy strokes his neck. Even in the dream she is always surprised that he picks the Porsche, but on
waking she wonders
at the thoughts buried in her mind.
He sets her down
just long enough to start it up, set the heat
blasting, and flip
the radio on. The CD player kicks Mirrorball on, and Sarah resumes her mourning… I don't know how to let go
His eyes find her
arms crossed over her chest, her dress riding low
on her hips. With a
single burning look he asks and she answers, baring her breasts for his pleasure. His fingertips are wind
sea oats come to
rest on her. She can feel every roughened ridge that
rides the softness
of his hand as he cups her.
intensity, he worships. With hands and mouth and
tongue, until her
breasts feel heavy, her nipples ache. She wants more. Always, she wants more.
He pulls away to
remove his coat and sling it over the hood. Placing
his hands on her
hips, Angel kisses her with a gravity that sets her heart to skittering. He lifts her onto the warm hood, forcing
as he leans into her. His bulk and the dream keep her from
Standing up, he runs
a hand between her breasts, splays his fingers
across her belly,
touches her like he knows her already. He moves on to her thighs, drawing his nails along her lightly, hovering
she needs his touch,
teasing until she trembles. The reward is firm
pressure on her
pubic bone, fingers on her clit.
She revels in the
warmth vibrating through the hood beneath her, the
cool air dousing her
breasts and belly, the press of his hand… and now, oh shit, he's falling into her. He laps at her. She
her legs up so she
can wrap herself closer to him, gasps when he
stops to tear her
panties, his cool fingers so shocking against her heat so that she jerks against him and he laughs.
Cold, damp air
rushes in upon her. The sound of the surf comes on
turned the volume up, and the rushing hiss of passing
traffic… and then his warmth again, because he is warm,
his tongue hot as he
tastes her. He's all there is in the night.
And, always, Cordy
She yanks on his
hair, plucks at the shoulders of his shirt. It rides
up his back under
her frantic pull. She urges him up because she needs him now, needs him hard and deep. He bites her clit
gently in reproach,
and she startles, arching, head thrown back as the
sensation pours into
he says, replacing his mouth with his deft touch
again. He fills her
with her fingers and she writhes.
Making her wait,
throbbing from his ardent torture, Angel kisses his
way up by inches to
her mouth. Cool, smooth skin, the scrape of his face, sensuous rub of chest hair, the rougher texture if his
the heavy folds of
his slacks under the insteps of her feet. All
He covers her and
she almost sobs, feeling the tears well up now that
he is finally here.
He gives her the weight she needs to keep from flying right off the dizzy spin of Earth. He saves her.
Pressed against her,
he rocks slightly, lets her know how much and
how hard he desires
her. Yeah, he's hot all right. Heated up in all the right places. He waits.
Sarah wails into the
silence between them… I won't fear love.
Never has she heard such longing in a voice as she
hears now in her
own. Not until he speaks.
The pain there saddens her. His voice is whisper
soft but steady.
Steady as her heartbeat. As her nerves now that this moment
is upon them. He's worried, she's cold, and they're
on the hood of a Porsche parked off the PCH.
Always, the small
ripple of fear. Always, the crushing waves of need,
heat, want coursing
in her blood.
Always there is
Angel, on his elbows, poised right at the very edge
of her. He strokes
her cheeks, chases her tears with his thumbs, and kisses her chastely. Silent, asking for more, more than just
body, he needlessly
kindles the flame. It rages through her. Her hips
surge up to claim
him as he drives into her.
She opens, arching
up to take him. With a sharp intake of breath and
an open mouth, he
surrenders. He brushes his lips against her ear, buries his face in that sweet spot between her shoulder and
her neck. She
enfolds Angel in her protection, invites him to stay, and offers
him whatever he may
want from her. All this in one small gesture. And he accepts.
Angel accepts, and
she wakes and in this the dream never changes.
She always wakes
within that moment, into the unbearable brightness
of her current
existence. Always at this point of not fulfillment. Wet and hungry for him. Still feeling him inside her,
pressing her into
the purring Porsche beneath.
And always, Sarah
singing… You're in the arms of the angel, may
you find some comfort here.
She thinks of him,
sitting in total stillness in the silent darkness
of his room and
knows he's listening. Can he hear her heart beating for
She whispers his
name like a prayer, and prays he'll come for her