Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Rating: Strong R for sexual content
Spoilers: Season 5 (in general)
Summary: Sometimes sex can be the only comfort a person has, and sometimes it can lead to something unexpected.
Author's Note: The verses at the beginning are from the song 'Perfect' by Sara Evans.
Feedback: Always appreciated. I know this so far off canon it isn't even funny, but it's where my muse took me. If Cordelia/Spike isn't your cup of tea, don't flame the story. Just pass it over and don't read it instead.
You don't mind if I show up late for everything
And when you lose your cool, it's kinda cute to me
Ain't it nice to know that we don't have to be…
Baby every little piece of the puzzle doesn't always fit
Love can be rough around the edges, tattered at the seams
But honey if it's good enough for you
It's good enough for me.
He's softer than she thought he'd be. Not his body, that's all muscle and sinew. No, his softness lies in the way he touches her, like the barest breath of wind ghosting over her skin. She likes when he's gentle, but she's really more surprised by the fact that she likes it when he's hard, demanding, and rough, wringing every cry of pleasure from her body that he can. She likes the way they contrast each other, likes his pale skin against her golden flesh, his lukewarm body setting fires ablaze inside her. She never thought she'd enjoy sex just for the sake of having sex, of being immersed in pleasure.
When Angel found out she thought he was going to kill them both. Walking in on his grand-childe screwing his former seer on top of the conference room table had not left him in the best of moods. He threw the first punch of course, taking Spike down quickly. He wouldn't listen to her protests that it was consensual. Fred was finally the one who got him to see reason. Sort of. He still growls every time she walks into a room with Spike. She can't believe she thought herself in love with Angel such a short time ago. She can't imagine being with him. He's like her father was, very overprotective. She needs more freedom than he could ever offer her.
She's used to it though. Her whole life has been nothing but bad experiences with men, until him. Her father, who once protected her like a precious jewel, abandoned her when things got tough and he lost his money. Xander was clumsy and they fumbled their way through their first time together and the few times they had sex after that. Then he got caught with Willow, effectively ending their relationship. After that there was the guy who impregnated her with demon spawn. She doesn't like to dwell on that. Not that sleeping with Connor was much better. Of course, she hadn't been in her body at the time, but still…eww. And again with the supernatural pregnancy. She loved Doyle, but she doesn't know if it was more than an infatuated love. He died before anything could come of it. Bad experiences.
Spike is different though. He makes her feel desirable. He indulges her in everything sexual. One time he'll push her against a wall in her new office and take her, shoving her brand new Armani skirt up around her hips, ripping away her underwear, and pounding into her ruthlessly, over and over until she can do nothing but scream his name and hold on tight. The next time he'll make love to her, slowly and gently, keeping her on that precipice of pleasure until she is sure that he's trying to kill her before sending her flying with an orgasm so intense that it washes away everything, leaving her floating on a hazy cloud of pure sensation. He is constantly inventive. She loves it when he lets her handcuff him to the bed. He loves to use food and make a meal of her. Literally. He never bites her neck though. That would be too obvious. It would also earn him a stake to the heart when Angel saw it. It would drive her boss over the edge. There are just some things he can't handle, even if he is a vampire himself.
Sometimes she wonders how this ever got started. Once upon a time she would have stayed as far away from Spike as she could. It happened out of the blue, completely unexpected by either of them. She remembers that from the second she woke up and saw him again there was something inside her that had never been there before when he was nearby. She knows he felt it too. His presence caused her skin to prickle and he would look at her as if he could see past the mask she put up for everyone else. One day he came to see if she was okay after a major fight with Angel and that was the beginning of this strange relationship that no one else understands. All he did was touch her arm and they were lost, consumed with lust and desire. The made love on her desk and it has just kept escalating from there.
It's been eight months and their relationship has evolved completely. What started out as attraction and sex has turned into something neither of them has experienced before…an actual relationship. There are moments that are wonderful, like when he makes her dinner and they share it over candlelight sitting on pillows on the living room floor or when she asks him to join her in a bubble bath where they are content to just relax and hold each other. They have their bad days too. She's perpetually late while he's normally early if there's even the slightest chance he can antagonize Angel. He likes his comfortable clothes and she is more at home in designer skirts and tops again. But he makes her laugh, and she knows that if he tried he could make her cry. They may look oddly paired to the outside world, but she's never felt more at home with a person than she has with him.
What they have is far from perfect. She doesn't believe in storybook love and he has been burned more times than any one person should be in a lifetime, or three. Spike certainly isn't Prince Charming there to sweep her off her feet and she's no princess, no queen, though she once held the title. They don't always get along and sex is usually where they find most of their common ground. He can annoy her beyond belief, gets angry far too easily, and has an appalling sense of fashion, but when he touches her all of that disappears. She knows that she gets on his nerves too. He hates that she likes to look perfect and has stated on more than one occasion that he'd like to see her in a pair of jeans, or a whole lot of leather. Either one is preferable to him. He hates that she calls the others her family, even though they couldn't tell Evil Cordelia from the real one. He knows that sometimes she resents them for it.
Still, they connect in ways they never have with anyone else. They've both been on the outside of the Scoobies, forever unable to breach that circle of friendship that was forged years ago. Now they are once again on the outside looking in. Her 'so called' family watches her with suspicion and fear in their eyes. They keep things from her, things that they think too important to share with someone who gave birth to an evil entity that munched on humans while promoting peace and happiness. They do the same to him, despite the fact that he has a soul. She doesn't let them see how much their mistrust hurts her. Instead, she lets him hold her while she cries, lets him dry her tears and comfort her the best way he knows how. He murmurs words of beauty, love, and lust, his mind weaving tendrils of poetry that slip from his full, sensuous lips to wrap around them, protecting them, momentarily taking their minds away from their problems, away from the sorrow, anger, and façade that working at Wolfram and Hart has made of their lives.
He knows that she wants to leave, wants to run away into the night and never return to this strange land of lawyers and contracts, protocol and compromise. It never used to be so gray. It had always been them against the monsters that hide in the dark, and sometimes in the light, but that time is over. Angel Investigations ceased to exist when they took over Wolfram and Hart, and that is what destroys her heart more than anything. Even though she walks like Cordelia Chase and talks like Cordelia Chase, she knows that they don't know her anymore, if they ever did. She doesn't even know herself. And the sad part is that she has realized that she's never really known them either, these people she calls family.
There are nights when she steps onto the elevator to go to her apartment, just below Fred's, on the upper levels of the Wolfram and Hart building, that she misses her old place. She misses Phantom Dennis and the way he always anticipated what sort of mood she would be in upon arriving home. He always had the perfect solution to a bad day, or good day, waiting for her. Her old apartment was warm, reflective of her personality. Her new place is cold, sterile, and uninviting, but she has nowhere else to go.
It has been one of those days where she just wants to forget her entire life, forget that the job she once loved is gone, only to be replaced by days filled researching with Wesley. She is his assistant after all. When she steps off the elevator into her living room the first thing she sees is him, standing there, naked as the day he was born, eyebrow quirked at her, causing a smile to cross her face. He's exactly what she needs at that moment. She drops her Gucci purse onto the hardwood floor and walks toward him slowly, her hips swaying seductively as she casually unbuttons her black silk blouse, letting it fall open to reveal a pretty red lace bra beneath it while she steps out of her heels.
She is just inches from him when he pulls her roughly, almost violently, to him, and her calm demeanor is shattered with the hunger of his brutal kiss. She leans into him, her soft curves molding to the contours of his lean body, giving herself up to the cruel ravishment of his mouth. There is no place for softness between them this night. It is all about need and desire, their basic instincts taken over with the animalistic urge to mate.
He tears at her clothes, pulling them from her body as her fingernails scratch over his chest, tugging at his sensitive nipples. He flings her underwear across the room before kissing her again. They never make it to the bedroom, instead lowering themselves to the floor of her living room. She gasps as he lowers his body over hers, enjoying the pleasure of his lukewarm embrace.
"Fuck me," she pleads, her body ready for him. There would be time for foreplay later; she just wants him inside her. She wants to forget. She wants oblivion, and he's more than willing to oblige. His smooth, pale hands move downward, skimming either side of her body to her slim thighs and once again she marvels briefly at the contrast between them. All thought disappears though when he grips her thighs in a bruising hold and yanks her legs further apart so that he rests more fully against her. He brings her legs up around his waist and she locks them there, never wanting to let him go for fear of never feeling such intense pleasure again.
He smirks, teasing her momentarily, rotating his hips against her, letting her feel his desire for her, delighting in the way she cries out, her back arching in invitation. It's an invitation he accepts.
He thrust into her so hard and deep that she slides back across the polished wood. Gripping her hips tightly, they move together, harsh, rough movements filling the air with the soft slap of his body against hers. There is nothing between them except ragged breathing, hoarse cries, and the desperate need for release.
Her hips start snapping up to meet his, their rhythm faltering as she feels him inside her so deeply it's as if he's touching her soul. Her hand rises up and her fingers tangle in his thick hair, pulling his head down to the tender skin connecting her shoulder and neck. He kisses her there softly before he shifts to his game face, his fangs sinking into her buttery flesh. She screams and bites into his shoulder in response, the metallic tang of his blood filling her mouth.
Her muscles tighten, her body stiffening, arching as she explodes in a downpour of fiery sensation, waves of ecstasy throbbing through her. The pull of blood from her body magnifies the feelings until she can't take it any more and another orgasm rips through her, causing her to scream, her fingernails ripping larges gashes down his back. She vaguely hears him growl against her throat, his body suddenly taut, and feels the flood of his long dead seed deep inside her. She loves that feeling, knowing that she's taking a part of him into herself, even if nothing can come from it. And for that moment she has forgotten.
He pulls away from her neck, letting his human mask appear once again as he stares down at her. Suddenly she's drowning in those wild sapphire eyes that she loves, seeing the same confusion in their depths that is coursing through her and in that moment she knows that he is as lost as her. Realization sinks in as they come down from euphoric heights, both of them panting softly as the world returns around them in bits and pieces.
They collapse back against the hard floor, their bodies naked and still moist from their lovemaking. She likes that he's not so heavy that he crushes her when he rests his body fully on hers, staying buried deep within her. Eventually he moves, pulls away and stands, leaving her feeling slightly empty. He helps her rise and they make their way to the bedroom. Soon she's tucked into his cool embrace, and he's whispering soft words to her telling her how beautiful she is, how he loves to fuck her and make love to her, but mainly telling her that she has his heart. She returns the words to him, knowing that for the first time in her life, she means them. They're in love and it's not perfect, it's not some high school girl's dream or a fairytale with a happy ending and she's fine with that. He loves her and she loves him and that's all they need.