Post by Emmie on Nov 18, 2010 0:01:04 GMT -5
Title: Addiction
Summary: My addiction to the worst of him.
Pairing: Faith/Angel
Warning: R for language and sexual situations
Word Count: ~400
Author's Note: Written for anythingbutgrey's Doomed Love comment ficathon, prompted by websofseaweed.
Spoilered for Language
Summary: My addiction to the worst of him.
Pairing: Faith/Angel
Warning: R for language and sexual situations
Word Count: ~400
Author's Note: Written for anythingbutgrey's Doomed Love comment ficathon, prompted by websofseaweed.
Spoilered for Language
She doesn't say it, fuck no, she doesn't say it, but she knows he knows. He always knows. He knows why she can't stay away, why her eyes follow him across every crowded room.
The cheerleaders, both of 'em, they get all googly eyed when they look at him, wetting their lips and tilting their heads back, angling their cleavage to give him a thrill. He's their hero. He's their dark, handsome prince come to save their asses and kiss it better.
She could do this all day: tick off every vanilla fantasy destined to make a good girl cum.
Not her, though. Nuh uh. He's more than just a hot piece of heroic ass (the hottest she's ever seen, not gonna lie). Sure, she sees a shiny hero--this is Angel, right? If he's not saving a damsel from distressing, he's protecting her from chipped nails and split ends. True blue soul and all that shit.
She knows he's a hero. He saved her when no one else could. He's the only one who stuck by her. Who never gave up on her. He showed her the way back to being worth... something. Worth more than the trash everybody tossed out on the street.
He's a hero and he's the only guy she'll ever love. Damn. And the real bitch of it is, when she slips her hands under the covers, when she teases and strokes till she's grinding to the rhythm, when she's moaning just right--she doesn't want him to save her. She wants the monster to come out, the one she sees lurking deep down. She wants fangs and fury and his hard cock pounding into her. She'll moan fuck me and he'll bite her neck, slip inside and make her scream.
Yeah. Fuck yeah.
That's the dream, boys and girls. They'll be heroes by day and fucking monsters by night. Or maybe the other way around, but they'll do it together. Maybe forever. Who cares? She's not stressin' the details.
That's her twisted fantasy. And he knows it. Maybe he wants it, too (kinky bastard must be dying to get wild). But she'll never ask and she can't take. Not with him. 'Cause this is Angel.
Fuck.
The cheerleaders, both of 'em, they get all googly eyed when they look at him, wetting their lips and tilting their heads back, angling their cleavage to give him a thrill. He's their hero. He's their dark, handsome prince come to save their asses and kiss it better.
She could do this all day: tick off every vanilla fantasy destined to make a good girl cum.
Not her, though. Nuh uh. He's more than just a hot piece of heroic ass (the hottest she's ever seen, not gonna lie). Sure, she sees a shiny hero--this is Angel, right? If he's not saving a damsel from distressing, he's protecting her from chipped nails and split ends. True blue soul and all that shit.
She knows he's a hero. He saved her when no one else could. He's the only one who stuck by her. Who never gave up on her. He showed her the way back to being worth... something. Worth more than the trash everybody tossed out on the street.
He's a hero and he's the only guy she'll ever love. Damn. And the real bitch of it is, when she slips her hands under the covers, when she teases and strokes till she's grinding to the rhythm, when she's moaning just right--she doesn't want him to save her. She wants the monster to come out, the one she sees lurking deep down. She wants fangs and fury and his hard cock pounding into her. She'll moan fuck me and he'll bite her neck, slip inside and make her scream.
Yeah. Fuck yeah.
That's the dream, boys and girls. They'll be heroes by day and fucking monsters by night. Or maybe the other way around, but they'll do it together. Maybe forever. Who cares? She's not stressin' the details.
That's her twisted fantasy. And he knows it. Maybe he wants it, too (kinky bastard must be dying to get wild). But she'll never ask and she can't take. Not with him. 'Cause this is Angel.
Fuck.