| Subject: What We Regain (Part 7) (NC-17) |
Author:
Nestra
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Date Posted: 20:08:18 01/17/03 Fri
In reply to:
Nestra
's message, "New chapters of What We Regain, for anyone inclined to comment." on 20:05:31 01/17/03 Fri
The Hyperion was dark again. He probably hadn't bothered to turn the lights on since he'd kicked his friends out. I stood outside for a good ten minutes, staring at the windows, trying to prepare myself for what I was about to do.
I'd grown up watching my father apologize to creditors, beg banks for extensions on loans, hold on to the little we had by kissing as much ass as he needed to. And I'd sworn I wasn't going to be like that. I was going to be rich, powerful, in control of my own life. Holland had promised that to me when he'd recruited me, and again when he'd promoted me, and maybe he'd thought he was telling the truth. Maybe if he'd still been alive, this situation would never have happened. But it had, and I was standing in front of a mostly-abandoned hotel, about to destroy Angel.
I wasn't sure what I'd do if he wasn't actually at the hotel, but I figured there was no point in giving myself another problem. I'd deal with it if it happened. I took a last look over my shoulder; the goons were sitting in their car halfway down the block, watching me. I resisted the urge to flip them off. Instead I walked up to the door and pushed it open.
The lobby was as dark as it had been last time I'd been there, and as far as I could tell, Angel wasn't waiting in a corner to guide me. There were some faint lights illuminating the big staircase against one wall, so I walked past the reception desk and headed up the stairs. Once I reached the top, a hallway extended in either direction, but one door had light spilling out from underneath. Bingo.
The door opened when I turned the handle, and I stepped inside, straight into a blade held across my throat. I froze -- not like there was anything else I could do. After about ten seconds, the sword lowered, and I turned my head to the right to see Angel standing there. He looked tired.
"What are you doing here?"
So far, he hadn't slammed me against a wall or tried to choke me. I figured that had to be progress. "I can't just drop by for a friendly visit?"
He huffed and reached for a scabbard, sliding the sword inside without a hitch. "I thought I told you to stay out of my way."
"Yeah, well, I don't take orders that well."
"Isn't that kind of a problem in your line of work?" he said.
"Probably," I replied. "But I've got worse ones." Since it looked like I was safe for the next few minutes, I scanned the rest of the room. Little kitchen off to the right, glass doors straight ahead leading to what had to be the bedroom.
"Nice place," I said. "Do you get room service?"
He ignored me and headed over to a nearby table. A plastic container was sitting on its surface. It looked like one of those things that got delivered with Chinese takeout, full of egg drop soup, but this one was halfway filled with blood. I was glad the lid was still on. He sat down in one of the chairs, but didn't make any other move.
The longer he stayed quiet, the worse I felt about what I was here to do. "So, have you reconsidered my offer?"
He huffed again. "Don't tell me that's what you came here for."
"Why not?"
"Because you're wasting my time. And yours. I don't need your help."
"Is that why you kicked out your friends? Were they a waste of time too?" I was hoping he'd get angry. Things would be easier on me if he was angry, but he didn't rise to the bait.
"Lindsey." God, he sounded tired. And old. "What do you want? What are you doing here? Did Wolfram and Hart send you?"
"No," I lied. "They told me to stay away from you."
"But you're here."
"Like I told you. I don't take orders well."
That almost got a smile out of him. Damn, he was in a strange mood. The one time I wanted him to be pissy and contemptuous, and instead he was having a fucking conversation with me. I was gonna have to either change tactics, or work harder at starting a fight. Or both. I decided to switch to a touchier subject.
"Heard from Darla lately?"
He looked a little more interested in that. "Why? Have you?"
"Are you kidding me? I'm out of the loop now. I'm lucky they don't have me down in Files and Records, dusting the boxes. Besides, you're the one who's supposed to be figuring out how to take her down."
That scored a hit. "Stay out of it, Lindsey."
I pushed on, digging in deeper. "I hope you've got something to show for all this time."
"Lindsey." The low snarl was probably supposed to scare me, but there was no way I was stopping now.
"I mean, it's sad, if you think about it. You tossed all of your friends out. You've completely failed to stop Darla and Dru, who, by the way, are in bed with Wolfram and Hart. You even got caught fucking me on tape. Really, the last few weeks of your life have been a total disaster."
The chair clattered to the floor when he leapt up and lunged for me, knocking me against the wall next to the door. His arm pressed across my throat like a steel bar.
"Are you trying to get yourself killed? Is that it?"
I was tired of thinking, tired of second-guessing everything I did and wondering if my next move would get me killed. I damn well didn't want to think about the little vial in my pocket. There was no other way to distract him long enough to drug the blood. And besides, I was tired of finding reasons not to do what I wanted to do.
He didn't resist when I shoved his arm aside and kissed him, even though I expected him to. Maybe he'd been thinking about this, just like I had. Maybe the fact that he was kissing me back meant something. Maybe, maybe. What the fuck did I know?
I pushed my tongue against his lips and they opened right up, letting me lick his tongue and his teeth and the roof of his mouth. His hands slipped down from my shoulders to my waist, and I let out something like a whimper when he pulled me against him. My whole body was tingling, and I dug my fingers into his arms to stop my hands from shaking.
"I shouldn't want this," he whispered. "I don't know why…"
I twisted my hips and pressed a thigh against his erection. "You do. I do. Shut up."
His head tipped back against the wall, and I had to smile. "You like that?" I leaned further into him and watched as his eyes drifted shut. God, I'd spent the past three days just wanting to touch him, and now I could. I reached down with my good hand and tugged his shirt free of his pants, unbuttoned it. When I put my hand on his chest, he looked down at me and shocked me with a smile of his own.
"C'mon," he said. "Bed."
We stumbled through the darkened room, rubbing against each other with every step. By the time we reached the unmade bed, he'd taken off my jacket and tie and buried his face in my neck, mouthing along my collarbone. Last time, in the elevator, I'd had to goad and push him into everything, but now he was just as eager as I was, and it made me so hard that I could barely think.
I kicked off my shoes, stepped back and sat down on the bed, pulling him to me with a hand curled loosely into his waistband. He reached down to unfasten his belt, but I leaned forward and mouthed the outline of his cock through his pants. He gripped my hair so tightly that it stung, and I retaliated by lightly digging my teeth into him. His head tipped back, and the groan that he let out was the best thing I'd heard in days. I pulled back and let him take off his belt and pants while I unbuttoned my shirt. It was easier to take off than put on one-handed. He pushed me back onto the bed and draped himself over me, and for the first time, I felt his skin against mine, cool and smooth.
He kissed me again, leisurely, like he had time to enjoy himself. It had been hard enough to have him hate me. I wasn't sure I could stand this new tenderness. I bit his lip, and he jerked back, startled. Reaching between us, I fumbled at my belt, and he probably figured that I was just impatient, because he sat back on his heels and helped me unfasten it. Seconds later, it seemed like, my pants and socks were gone too, and he was flat on top of me again, pressing the breath out of me. He came right back to my mouth, kissing me deep and slow, and I couldn't fight it. Didn't want to.
His hips moved restlessly, rubbing his cock against my stomach, rubbing mine with his movements. I pulled my mouth away so I could breathe, and he leaned into my neck, his teeth sharp against my skin. I planted my feet flat on the bed and shoved up against him, my cock brushing against his in just the right way. I did it again, but his weight kept pushing me back down into the mattress.
"Goddamnit, Angel…"
He reached down and grabbed my cock, lined himself up, and started thrusting against it, the head skating over the sweet spot. I could feel the pressure starting to build, the pleasure intensifying with his hand wrapped around me, his cock rubbing and sliding against mine, getting slicker and slicker with every movement.
I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted to come. I wanted it over. I wanted it to never end, so I wouldn't have to do what came next.
I stifled my groan as I came, feeling his grip tighten around me as I shoved up into his hand one last time. The muscles in my legs ached with strain; I dropped back down on to the bed, the sheets underneath me cool against the sweat on my back. After I stopped moving, he let go of me, placed his hand above my shoulder, dropped his head, and started thrusting desperately against my hip. I wrapped my arms around him and held tight as he shuddered and shook and came, his lips pressed against my neck.
He collapsed onto me, an elbow landing on my stomach. I made some sort of squished noise, and he mumbled, "Sorry," and slid over to the side, where he immediately fell asleep.
I lay there, listening to the faint sounds of traffic outside. I didn't know exactly what I'd expected, but that sure hadn't been it. Every time I thought I had a bead on Angel, he took some kinda left turn and left me standing in the dust, with no idea what the hell had happened. He'd threatened to kill me when I tried to help him, ignored me when I warned him, and kissed me when I insulted him.
I wondered if he was as confused as I was, if he felt backed into a corner by Darla and Drusilla and Lilah. And me. We'd pushed him to the edge, bringing Darla back, not knowing that she'd simply waste away from syphilis, and I'd helped save her the only way I could. It hadn't been my idea, but I'd run with it, rubbed Angel's face in it, made him watch as Drusilla turned Darla. As a human, Darla had been helpless, scared and confused -- and always focused on Angel. At least we'd had that in common.
And then she'd been vamped.
I could deal fine with evil. I'd had plenty of practice. But I couldn't handle being ignored, left on the floor of the wine cellar with goddamn Lilah, like an oversight. I'd never been anything to Darla but a pawn.
I slid gently out of the bed, found my pants on the floor, and pulled them on. I stood there for a minute, watching Angel sleep. It was probably the first time I'd ever seen him relaxed. Almost peaceful. And vulnerable. With his reflexes, he could probably stop me if I tried to stake him, but he was still taking a risk. Maybe he didn't take me seriously enough to consider me a threat. Or maybe he'd begun to trust me.
His sense of timing had always sucked.
I slipped out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. The unopened container of blood still sat on the little table. When I pried open the lid, the smell of the blood struck me and immediately called up memories of the wine cellar. I had to hope that association would eventually fade. I was in the wrong line of work to have issues with blood.
I'm sorry, I thought. I'm sorry it came to this. I'm sorry I couldn't figure out how to get myself out of this.
Then I worked the stopper out of the vial and poured the contents into the blood.
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