Chocolate
Title: Chocolate
Author: Juniper (juniper1@chickmail.com)
Rating: NC-17
Content: Faith, Angel, chocolate, and handcuffs. Need I say more?
Disclaimer: Not mine. Joss'. Don't sue. Thanks.
Distribution: Suuuuuuurrrre. Just lemme know where.
Feedback: I would enjoy feedback more than I enjoyed writing this fic. And believe me, I *enjoyed* writing this fic.
Spoilers: *snort*
Notes: Angel, girl, it's for you and you know it. Hope I've inspired some *thoughts*. Oh, and Nutella is this heavenly chocolate dip stuff with crushed hazelnut in it.
******
Drip.
Drip.
Oh, the sound is music to her ears.
As is the rustle of the sheets as he strains against his bonds.
He could break them at any time...but it would be a little less delicious if he did. So he tugs, relatively gently and just hard enough to make the bedframe creak its protest. She smiles, her eyes sparkling that wicked sparkle that entices a low growl from deep within his throat.
Her tongue only makes it worse. Lazily lapping droplets of chocolate from his smooth, silky chest, it works its way up, darts across his Adam's apple.
He jerks, wanting to beg but far too proud...he doesn't want to think about how being proud got him handcuffed to his own bed.
He wants to think about how the jar of Nutella is still sooooooo full...how the spoon is dangling above him again, poised just right to -
There. The chocalate drips into his mouth, coats his tongue, slides back, back...back. Then she's there, licking it away again, exploring his mouth with the lithe flexibility of a cat. A hungry cat, lapping up her milk.
If only milk were this sweet,this...nourishing.
Faith flips one lock of silky hair back over her shoulder, her breasts jiggling slightly as she does so; Angel's eyes widen and the faintest traces of ridges begin to appear upon his face. She shakes her head, something brutal in her smile. "Naughty boy," she coos. "Did I say the demon could come to play?"
Finding her spoon in sticky lump against the pillow, she dips it back into the jar...a good, long dip, eases out slowly...wisps of chocolate dash a path across the oh-so-white sheets to his forehead. She smooths the warm thickness over his pronounced brow.
And she sits back. Sets the spoon aside and gazes upon her handiwork. But she's not done yet. She gives him a soft, coy kiss, before dipping one finger into the pool on his forehead.
Stroke.
Stroke.
Rapidly, across his freshly licked chest. Swiftly tracing out the one-word story that explains it all. Tenshi. Angel.
He lifts his head and gazes at the upside-down symbols. "Where did you learn Kanji?"
She gives a quick crinkle of her nose, presses a finger to his lips. "Shhh...there's lots you don't know about me."
She sets to work then, savoring every last lusciously sweet molecule of chocolate as she uncovers the pale reality of his flesh from beneath the brown coating. And when she finally kisses him again, she tastes *so* sweet.
He'd give up blood forever for the feel, the taste, the warmth of her tongue, eternally cocooning into his mouth.
Faith is playing with him. She knows. She can tell.
Faith is having fun.
So when Faith pulls her fingernails, feather-light, down the insides of his outstretched arms and catches them in the patches of hair, she knows it tickles. And she knows it makes him want her that much more.
It makes Faith happy.
There's only one thing that could make her happier...to ease down, to straddle him just one *bit* lower.
To tease him. Lifting her hips, she enjoys the pained look on his face, the utter and absolute *need*. She taunts, torments...and at last, at sweet last, she sinks onto him and sighs.
Such a happy sigh.
Angel has to work. He has to try so hard not to thrust up. To not rip posts from the bedframe and flip Faith and her knowing smirk under him. To not show her what it's like to be tortured with pleasure.
Her hands rest on his chest, but rest is not the right word for it. Her hands knead into his chest. They rub and tweak and stroke and caress. They *learn* his chest as she feels her release, in perfect rhythm to her gasping breaths, her surging hips.
She eases down, swallowing his body and reaching to grab the bedframe above his head so she can have some leverage to push, push, push herself back against him.
"Angel?" she purrs, nibbling at his earlobe. "You've been a good boy."
A low rumble erupts from within his chest cavity. It grows, swells, become rougher and more primal with every vicious thrust upwards.
And finally Faith smiles, very pleased. Very pleased indeed.
And she reaches again, but not for the chocolate. For the key.
Because Faith knows. She knows she's in for it now.
And she can't wait.