Dreams of the Past 3/3
By Christie
Category:  Doyle/Cordy
Rating:  NC-17
Content:  Drama, romance, sex
Spoilers:  any AtS episode up to (but not including)
"Hero" is fair game
Summary:  Doyle and Cordelia are trying to build a
relationship but Doyle's past catches up with him.
Feedback:  Makes me one happy puppy.
Distribution:  Archives for any list I've sent this to
(but could you please drop me a line and tell me where
it's going?), Cleo, anyone else please ask!
Disclaimer:  Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy (grr...argh),
The WB, not me.
Author’s Notes:  ** is used for emphasis, // is used
for thought.  This story is slightly AU: Cordelia
knows Doyle's a demon, "Hero" didn't happen.  Ahh, all
is right with the world.  : )  I'd also like to
preface this by saying this is a conversation-driven
story, something I'm not as comfortable doing as
description-driven pieces.  

~Dreams of the Past~
Part III

Cordelia knocked on the door, nervously looking around
the seedy hallway of the apartment building Doyle
called home.  It was deserted this time of night, the
sun just poised on the horizon, readying itself to
make it's ascent into the sky.

The door swung open and Cordelia yelped in surprise,
jumping backwards and clutching her purse to her
chest.

Doyle laughed, swaying slightly on his feet.  "Not
'spectin' me, princess?"

Cordelia scowled at her boyfriend, wrinkling her nose
at the stale lite-beer breath he emitted.  She
followed him into the apartment, shutting and locking
the door behind her.  

A quick survey of the place, in its usual messiness,
told her precisely what he'd been doing since Angel
dropped him off earlier that night.  His ugly, smelly
yellow chair was littered with empty beer cans, facing
the television that didn't work.  Doyle liked to sit
there, feeling sorry for himself because his tv didn't
work, while he drank too much beer and wallowed in his
misery.

Cordelia picked up an unopened beer and snapped the
top open, watching disinterestedly as Doyle attempted
to straighten up a bit, always a futile gesture unless
he had a few spare hours before he wanted to get to
the actual purpose of the visit.  She took a long pull
on the beer and nearly spit it all over the floor.  It
was warm, and rancid.  She forced herself to swallow
the putrid alcohol, then handed the near-full can back
to Doyle.

"That's disgusting,"  she complained, wiping her mouth
with the back of her hand and scowling prettily.  "You
drank..." she counted the empty cans near the yellow
chair.  "Seven of those?"

Doyle shrugged, finishing off the rest of the beer in
one long swallow.  He tossed the can aside and flopped
back down in the chair.  "Sorry for leavin' you at
Angel's," he grumbled, tilting his head and resting it
in his hands as though he'd developed a sudden
headache.  "I didn't think you'd want to see me."

Cordelia frowned, shedding her jacket and purse and
perching on the edge of the chair.  She lifted a hand
and ran slender fingers through Doyle's terminally
messy hair.  "It's okay," she mused softly, leaning
down and dropping a kiss on the top of his head.  She
tilted her head, baring her neck.  "No bites, see? We
talked."

Letting out a loose groan, Doyle leaned back and
relaxed under Cordelia's gentle ministrations.  He
sighed softly.  "Angel's a good man."

"Yes, he is,"  Cordelia agreed, pushing Doyle forward
with her hands and dropping herself into the chair
behind him, wrapping long legs around his waist.  "He
wasn't before, but he is now, and I'm his friend.  I
trust him with my life, no matter what happened in the
past."

Doyle was silent.  Angel told.  He wanted to be mad,
but he wasn't.  He was just tired.  Simply exhausted. 
There was nothing the Powers could do for Cordelia,
and nothing he could do to stop her pain.  Instead,
they were stuck, reliving his past in frightening
reality night after night until... until what?  Until
the cruel higher power that was giving her these
dreams got bored?  Ran out of Doyle stories to tell? 
How long could they last through that?

"Love you, Doyle."  Cordelia's voice was soft against
his ear, and she dropped a gentle kiss beneath his ear
lobe, following it with several kisses across his neck
until she had to pull the collar of his shirt away to
find more skin.

Doyle shivered under her touch, a warm fire spreading
through his belly at her words.  He wanted to weep. 
Instead, he froze, even his breath catching in his
throat.  They sat like that, silent, for a long time,
the only sound was Cordelia's soft breathing against
Doyle's ear.

Finally, Doyle shifted himself out of Cordelia's grip
and stood, holding his hand out to the girl before
him.  She looked at him doubtfully, then smiled,
allowing him to pull her into a standing position. 
Then, in a sudden grandiose gesture, Doyle slipped one
arm around her shoulders, the other behind her knees,
and lifted her into his arms.

Her yelp of surprise was swallowed by Doyle's mouth
descending over hers.  He kissed her deeply, finding
the way to his bedroom by sheer memory.  A few moments
later, he was lowering her gently to the bed.

Doyle stood above her, staring intently as he shrugged
off his shirt.  Her flushed beauty sent shivers up his
spine.  "The most beautiful," he said aloud, as he had
a hundred times before in his head.  Cordelia smiled
softly and reached up for him, catching him around the
waist and pulling him down on top of her.

She felt his heart beating against hers as she offered
her lips to him, engaging him in a searing kiss.  Her
fingers trailed up along his neck and into his hair,
her other hand snaking its way down to the waistband
of his pants.  She wanted to feel him, completely,
stretched out against her; to know they fit just the
way they should, him all wiry muscle nestled perfectly
against her ample curves.

Doyle shivered as Cordelia’s hand contacted with his
bare skin. She raked her fingernails around his
shoulder and down his back, sending goose bumps up his
spine.  Her lips traveled from his across his cheek
and to his neck, where she nuzzled his earlobe and the
crook of his neck where it curved into his shoulder.  

Reaching beneath himself, Doyle worked the buttons of
Cordelia's shirt open, one by one from the bottom up. 
He explored each new inch of skin first with his eyes,
then his lips and finally his tongue, each wet trail
turning to a path of fire on Cordelia's heated flesh. 
Finally, Doyle pulled the shirt off her shoulders and
it slipped easily from her arms and to the floor. 

Cordelia was whimpering by the time he was done, and
she pressed her warm skin into his own, begging for
more contact.  Doyle complied, quickly undoing the
zipper of Cordelia's pants and pushing them down her
long legs, caressing her thighs with the pads of his
thumbs almost reverently as he did so.  She sighed,
sitting halfway up and reaching for Doyle's pants,
intent on undoing the button and zipper herself until
he laughed.

Pushing her back against the comforter, he rid himself
of his own pants, then stretched himself against her,
legs tangled with legs, groins pushing urgently into
each other, chests rubbing chests, and finally, lips
claiming lips.  Their tongues swirled in each other’s
mouths in such a frenzy that Cordelia felt her lungs
would burst if she didn’t pull away soon.  

Doyle held her face in his hands, his fingers trailing
up and into her soft mane of hair, stroking it
lovingly.  He broke the kiss, ending it with two soft,
playful nips to her bottom lip, drawing out a grin. 
"Love you, Cordy," he murmured, slipping his face to
the side of hers and caressing her cheek with his own.

Cordelia felt tears well up in her eyes.  Doyle only
smiled, trailing his fingers along her jawline.  "The
most beautiful," he repeated softly.

A tear did slip down her cheek then, and Doyle leaned
over, kissing it away.  "No crying," he instructed,
his hand working its way down over her breasts and to
her flat belly.  "Playing."

Laughing, Cordelia reached down to cover his hand with
her own.  She felt his insistent erection pressing
into her thigh just a few inches to the south.  Her
hand continued downward and she stroked him lightly,
drawing a soft groan from the half-demon.  "Playing,"
she whispered, covering his lips with hers and
swallowing his moans of pleasure as she worked him
with her hand.

Doyle figured that turnabout was fair play, and his
own hand joined hers, stroking the junction of her
thighs with expert fingers, weaving an intricate
pattern of lust across her most intimate parts.  

“I want you right now,” Cordelia commanded in a
breathy voice once Doyle had released her from his
searing kiss.  

Without waiting for an answer, Cordelia wiggled
herself out from underneath her lover and straddled
him, sinking slowly downward until she felt him
filling her.  She moaned softly, lulling her head back
until she felt her bottom brushing against his thighs.
 "Oh god, Doyle."

Doyle laughed hoarsely and reached up, running his
hands along the sides of her body, up her hips, waist,
rib cage, and finally encircling her breasts.   "Not
one for much foreplay, are we princess?" he teased. 
She giggled softly and nodded in approval, beginning
her slow, torturous dance.

With a guttural groan, Doyle moved beneath her, aching
with pleasure as each move she made seared an eternal
feeling of contentment onto his soul.  Her hands
trailed across his chest, fingernails dancing lightly
over sensitive flesh, causing goose bumps to rise each
place she touched.

Releasing her breasts, Doyle trailed his own hands
down her body, enjoying the familiar feel of her
shape:  her narrow waist flaring out into sensual hips
and a perfectly rounded ass.  Finally, his hand
ventured round to her front, fingers dipping between
the moist folds at the precise spot their bodies were
joined.

"Doyle--"  Cordelia groaned, a slight warning tingeing
her voice.  He didn't stop and she could do nothing
but lean forward, balancing herself with her arms on
the mattress on either side of  his head, catching his
mouth with hers in an appreciative kiss.

She was dangerously close, and she sped up, determined
to bring Doyle to peak with her.  The Irishman placed
his free hand on her hip, helping to guide her frantic
movements as he thrust up into her, groans escaping
him in every breath.

Then, Cordelia gasped loudly, halting her work for a
moment as her orgasm washed over her.  She began her
movements again, this time even more urgently than
before, gripping onto the comforter that was beneath
Doyle's head as tightly as she could.  

This sent Doyle over the edge, and he froze as the
first bit of wetness lurched from him.  He groaned
loudly, catching Cordelia as she slumped onto his
chest.  He held onto her tightly until his body
stilled, the last of the tremors surfacing as small,
uneven trembles that coursed from his toes to his
head.  Finally, Doyle mustered up the strength to pull
Cordelia forward and wrap his arms around her as she
lay on top of him, completely exhausted.

**

Doyle sighed, rolling over and reaching out for
Cordelia as he came reluctantly into wakefulness.  She
came to him immediately, laughing softly  and placing
gentle kisses across his lips and cheeks.

"You're awake," Doyle murmured.  It was more of an
observation than a question, but Cordelia answered
anyway.

"I've been thinking about you," she admitted, running
her fingers slowly through his messy hair. 

Doyle frowned.  "You had another dream?"

Cordelia shook her head, glancing at the sunlight
filtering through the cracks in the ancient mini
blinds that covered the window.  "No," she said
slowly, brushing a kiss against his temple.  "I think
you wore me out too much to dream," she joked.

When Doyle didn't laugh, she became serious again. 
"I'm so sorry, Doyle.  I'm so sorry for what you've
been through," she began, biting down on her bottom
lip.  She propped herself up on one elbow and looked
down at him.  "I don't like having these dreams,
knowing everything about your past."  She laughed
softly.  "God knows I don't want you to know
everything about my past."

Doyle nodded minutely.

"But,"  Cordelia continued, leaning down to place a
soft kiss on his lips, "since I don't seem to have a
choice, I just... I want you to know that I love you,
no matter what I see in those dreams."

Blinking rapidly, Doyle turned his head, reaching a
hand up to trace the outline of her face.  "I just
wish you didn't have to see--"

"It's okay baby," Cordelia whispered, leaning into his
hand.  "Angel told me you went to the Powers.  If
there's nothing that can be done, we'll just ride it
out together.  Can't last forever, right?"

Doyle frowned.  "I don't know, I did a hell of a lot
of stupid shit."

Cordelia laughed and kissed him, deeper this time. 
"Didn't we all," she murmured against his lips.

The kiss grew heated quickly, and Cordelia rolled
herself on top of Doyle, slipping her tongue easily
into his mouth.  Cordelia could feel him hardening
against her bare thigh, and she laughed softly,
maneuvering herself down his body.  She trailed kisses
down his tightly muscled chest, following a sensual
path down to his abdomen, until finally she came face
to face with his hardness.

"Mmm, you're almost ready to play," she observed,
lifting his penis away from his body and circling her
tongue slowly around its purplish head.  She placed
soft kisses down its shaft, running her tongue around
the base and up the hardened ridge, returning to the
sensitive tip.  

Doyle groaned at her attention, reaching down and
running his fingers slowly through her hair, applying
a slight pressure, encouraging her to take more of him
in.  Cordelia obliged, returning her mouth to the head
and sucking lightly, drawing the first salty drips of
precum from it.  Satisfied that he was completely
hard, she engorged more of him into her mouth,
applying pressure to the ridge that rested on her
tongue.  

She suckled easily on him for a moment, before
releasing her grip and disengaging him from her warm
mouth.  She slowly drew him in again, this time taking
him deeper than before.  She applied pressure then
released him, hearing Doyle groan as she did so. 
Cordelia smiled. 

Finally, Cordelia pulled him into her mouth again,
this time opening up her throat and taking as much of
him as she possibly could.  She circled her hand
around the base of him, forming a tunnel for the
inches that she couldn't take.  Doyle nearly cried
out.  He grunted her name, replacing his hands in her
hair and guiding her head up and down his long shaft. 


Cordelia allowed him to guide her movements as he
thrust in and out of her mouth.  She could taste his
salty discharge as it ran down the back of her throat.
 She alternated between applying slight pressure to
the head with her tongue and releasing, in rhythm with
his easy movements within her mouth.

Doyle's breathing shortened, coming in audible gasps. 
"Cordelia," he managed to choke out, forcing himself
to stop his hips movements.  "Cordy, I--"

She ignored him, releasing him slightly only to stroke
his underside lightly with her teeth, drawing a
shuddering groan from the back of his throat.  He
gripped onto the comforter at the sides of her head
and lurched upward, giving one final sated cry before
he came.

When Doyle opened his eyes, Cordelia was watching him.
 She had been the one giving the pleasure, not
receiving it, but Doyle's heart jumped at how
satisfied she looked, and how happy.  //The most
beautiful.//

Cordelia laughed softly, as though hearing his
unspoken thought, and reached up, cradling Doyle's
face in her hands.  She brought her lips up to his
forehead, dropping a small kiss there, then followed a
trail down his cheek and finally to his lips.

"Thank you,"  Doyle murmured softly, drawing another
gentle laugh from his lover.  "I don't know what I did
to deserve that."

"You've been through a lot,"  Cordelia whispered,
stroking her fingers through his dark locks.  She
raised an eyebrow.  "Some of it questionable, but most
of it is showing me how strong you are, and how
brave."

Doyle settled back, pulling Cordelia with him into a
tight embrace.  He rested his head against hers,
sighing softly in content.  "Strong and brave,"  he
repeated, dropping a kiss on the top her head.  "I
could get used to that."

~Fin.~
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