Another Detour

Synopsis: What had Darla and Angel just done that made them breathe so damn hard at the beginning of that last scene in 'Dear Boy'? My take on it.

Disclaimer: I'm not Joss. I'm not Greenwalt. I'm not Tim. I own nothing but the twisted idea behind this story and, really, even that's pushing it. Song belongs to Fiona Apple.

Author's Notes: I've had this fic in the works for about two months now, and the violently smutty D/A sex scene in 'Reprise' inspired me to get off my ass and finish it. I've never written anything like this before (hell, I've never written anything that wasn't B/A), so if this sucks it's not my fault. Really. This is un-beta'ed because if I sent it to Janice I think she'd have a heart attack. :)

Feedback: It's like sex...it isn't important until you're not getting any. And since I'm most definitely *not* getting any sex, feedback would be really nice. :->

Dedication: To Tarina, Janice, Jess, and Rose...don't kill me! Tim Minear, ::sings:: you're a god and I am not and I just thought that you would know... And David Boreanaz and Julie Benz...you guys are *very* inspiring.

"You said that you could smell me...well, I can smell you, too! My boy's still in there, and he wants out!" she cried, grasping at the lapels of his jacket, wishing for some way to bring him back to her. Her darling boy, her beloved childe...she couldn't take much more of this. This damned soul...it was nothing but a broken version of the favorite toy that she had once played with and reveled in.

Her breath was hot on his neck, her body tantalizing close to him. Her heartbeat pounded in his ears and he couldn't help the growl that escaped his lips. She was so warm, and even though the texture of his clothing he could feel her soft skin. Her breasts heaved as she drew in the precious, vital air she needed now and he traced the curve of them appreciatively with his eye, remembering every inch of her luscious skin.

The dreams came back to haunt him then, in that moment of weakness. All the promises, all the passion, all the lust...the memories swept through him in a fury--Hurricane Darla was taking no prisoners. She stood silently, panting, her eyes locked on his and a small smile playing across her lips.

Angel shifted and had to look away from the erotic picture she made, her hair tousled, her tank top strap hanging off her shoulder, two thin threads of her crimson blood trickling down the creamy skin of her chest. And that damn smirk that had always gotten her whatever she had wanted.

"You know you want it, Angel. You've always wanted it. Why did you come back to me after you got your soul back? You needed me, just like I needed you," she purred, slinking over to where he stood. She batted her eyelashes and continued to simper, "Give in to those needs, Angel. Give in to me."

He tore himself from her grasp and snarled. "You don't know what you're talking about," he growled warningly, putting several feet between them. Her feral smile widened.

"Don't I, though? Why else would you have come back begging? I was all you knew for a hundred and fifty years. You were lost without me then, you're lost without me now."

"I might have been 'lost' then," Angel argued, blatantly ignoring the erection he'd had from the moment he'd touched her. To think that the bitch still had an affect on him...but then again, she always would. "But I know where I am now. I have a purpose, I'm making my amends. You're going to be doing the exact same thing."

"Because you and I are one, aren't we?" Darla said, letting her cardigan flutter to the ground. She walked toward him slowly, like a predator about to pounce. Angel tried to stand his ground but also tried not to flee...not from fear of her, but fear of himself. He was so close to losing control...all the dreams, all the memories.

He'd once told Buffy that he was weak; that he'd never be anything else. He'd been right. The man inside him was weak, always looking for an escape, never wanting to face things. It was the man who would break, who would give in.

"You've got a heartbeat now, remember? We're not 'one' anymore," he argued, dismayed to realize that he was backing away from her.

She giggled and tossed her blond hair over her shoulder, leveling him with a stare. "Silly boy...have I taught you nothing? We are one, and we'll always be one. You're so quick to forget that we spent a century and a half together, lusting and killing and loving. We are bound by *blood*, Angel, something stronger than...than that love you claim to feel for that stupid cheerleader! That bond is always there, always reminding you of what we shared. Don't you remember? You never had that with Buffy, it was with me! It will always *be* with me!" She continued to advance on him, swaying her hips wantonly as she stalked him.

He swallowed. Hard. He was hard, achingly hard...and the situation was hard. Harder than he'd expected. But then again, so was his cock...

"London? Paris? China? Romania? I know you remember...we were unstoppable. We wreaked havoc across Europe and back again, leaving thousands dead in our wake." She paused, her eyes glazing over at the memories. "I taught you everything you know. I may not be able to give you that little moment of true happiness, but I can bring you to your knees or even destroy you if I so choose."

He stopped suddenly, his back smacking into one of the huge pillars. Angel was assaulted with more memories, fucking sessions in front of roaring fires, the hunts, the kills, the deaths, the destruction, the lives taken mercilessly at their hands. It was sensory overload, and his current state of mind couldn't handle it. With a snarl he grabbed her by the throat and spun her around, throwing her up against the pillar.

"Is that what you want? To bring me to my knees?" he said, tightening his grip on her neck. She didn't seem the least bit fazed. Bitch. "You're right, I do remember. I remember the kills and the hunts and all the times we had together. I remember it all, I can't escape it. So what do you want with me, Darla? Fuck what Wolfram and Hart want...what are your plans for me?"

She stared at him long and hard, searching through his soul to the very core of his being where her mate lurked. Darla's eyes darkened in lust as she caught a glimpse of the demon inside of him, of the darkness that resided in his body still. What she wouldn't give for that darkness again...

"I want you, Angel. I want you to make me scream like you used to. I want you inside of me, hard and deep like before. Like in your dreams. Come on, Angel," she smirked, jumping into his arms and wrapping her lean legs around his waist, pressing herself against the evidence of his desire for her. "You know you want it."

And then the lust that had been building inside of him became too much, too strong, and he was swept away by its power. He was weak, remember? With a growl that seemed to resonate through the huge hall he leaned down and mauled her mouth hungrily, ruthlessly thrusting his tongue inside. He licked and nipped and sucked, needing to taste her, to feel her again.

Pinning her in place with an icy glare, he reached down and quickly undid his slacks. His preternatural strength and flexibility allowed him to do so without putting her down, and he grabbed ahold of her once more as he let his pants slide down his legs to pool on the cement floor. His thick, cold, hard cock sprang into his hand, stiff and aching for release.

Angel kissed her again--vicious, ruthless savage kisses--as his hand ventured under her skirt and found her dripping hot flesh already bare to his touch. So she'd forgone underwear. Easier access. With a groan he pushed her skirt up to gather at her hips and slammed her against the tall column, moving his mouth down to her throat. Her blood thundered through her, so close...so very close...

"That's my boy," Darla simpered as she grasped his thick cock in her warm hands, causing him to groan into her mouth. It had been too long, too damn long since he'd been touched by anyone other than himself...an eternity since she'd touched him when he was fully conscious and aware of what was happening.

He pinched her clit roughly, knowing she got off on the pain. Jerking and moaning, Darla spread her legs wide, securing them on his lean hips. Her skirt stayed bunched at her waist as he reached a hand down to guide himself to her center. Pulling away, his dark eyes locked on hers.

The penetration came without warning, and Darla cried out in pain at the harsh intrusion. He filled her with one solid stroke, sheathing himself in her familiar and yet incredibly foreign depths.

Her flesh burned him as he pulled out and thrust back in again, not giving her time to get used to his massive girth. She'd adjust in time, and it wasn't like she didn't love the pain.

Her grip around his neck tightened as Angel slammed her into the stone pillar with enough force to bruise her frail human body. She moaned at the violence of the act and bucked against him, urging him deeper. Gladly obliging, the vampire thrust into her with wild abandon, seeking to forget everything, everyone, even for just a moment.

Darla's inner muscles clamped skillfully around him and he watched as she threw her head back, moaning in time with his powerful thrusts. He wanted to split her in two, punish her for what she did to him, thank her for making him feel this again. The blonde squirmed in his arms, her heels digging into his clenched ass, urging him on.

For a second he contemplated pretending her tight, wet heat was Buffy's, but rejected the thought with disgust. Instead, he forced himself to stare at Darla, calling forth every memory he had of their one hundred and fifty years together, making himself remember every person they'd killed, the blood they'd bathed in. This wasn't about pleasure, it wasn't about fulfillment and loneliness and the ever-present ache he lived with.

It was just another form of self-flaggelation, a way for him to hate himself just a little more. But that's what he needed now.

He nipped at her lips again, drawing her tongue out to play. In mid-air they danced, imitating the motions of their lower bodies. Over and over again their pelvises met violently, bodies melding in mindless fucking. That's all it was. Sex. Meaningless, satisfyingly empty sex.

Darla arched back and screamed, jack-hammering against him as her orgasm swept through her. Angry that she came first, Angel reached a hand between their clothed bodies and pinched her clit hard in punishment. She squeaked as his nails scrapped against her aroused flesh.

Thrusting numbly into her over and over, Angel felt his own impending orgasm. He allowed his face to shift, the intoxicating smell of the blood that slid down over her collarbone igniting his blood lust. She smirked.

"Yeah, Angel, bite me. Bite me hard, baby. Make me scream..." she moaned, exposing the smooth column of her luscious neck to him. She kept eye contact, looked deep into his eyes, hypnotizing him, making him pound into her faster, harder, deeper. Without hesitation he leaned in and sank his gleaming fangs into her flesh, coming as soon as her hot, spicy blood flowed over his tongue. She writhed against him like a thing possessed as he pounded into her and continued to drink.

He nearly tore a huge hole in her neck as he pulled his fangs out in shock. His mouth dripped blood as Angel yanked out of her, spilling the rest of his seed on the front of her skirt. Collapsing near the column she'd just been fucked against, Darla shakily gained her bearings and watched him.

Angel licked the blood off his lips stoically, his face shifting back to normal. Her gaze narrowed when he didn't make any move to reply and she watched with growing anger as he tucked himself back in and zipped his pants, panting lightly.

A long moment passed in absolute silence. They were locked in a silent battle of wills, Darla glaring blatantly at Angel, waiting for him to speak. Almost...needing him to speak. He didn't flinch, didn't move, just met her gaze. The muscles in his cheek flexed, his only movement.

Breathing heavily, they stared at each other across the short distance that separated them. He had nothing to say to her. He wanted nothing to do with her. This thing had been building, it had taken over...it wouldn't happen again. He fucked her, he got off, he hated himself for it. Hated her for it.


	The Last Time I Saw You has moved to... http://www.fangedfour.com/lasttime You will be redirected in 10 seconds. Fanfiction by Author Title Rating/Pairing Title: Another Detour Author: Serena Synopsis: What had Darla and Angel just done that made them breathe so damn hard at the beginning of that last scene in 'Dear Boy'? My take on it. Disclaimer: I'm not Joss. I'm not Greenwalt. I'm not Tim. I own nothing but the twisted idea behind this story and, really, even that's pushing it. Song belongs to Fiona Apple. Rating: NC-17 for hot, sweaty, naughty sex. Or at least I hope it is. Content: Darla/Angel smut Timeline: During the final scene of 'Dear Boy', right after Darla says she can still smell her boy inside of Angel. Spoilers: 'Dear Boy', obviously...'First Impressions', 'Untouchable', 'Darla', 'Amends' Distribution: My site. If you do indeed want it, drop me a line. Author's Notes: I've had this fic in the works for about two months now, and the violently smutty D/A sex scene in 'Reprise' inspired me to get off my ass and finish it. I've never written anything like this before (hell, I've never written anything that wasn't B/A), so if this sucks it's not my fault. Really. This is un-beta'ed because if I sent it to Janice I think she'd have a heart attack. :) Feedback: It's like sex...it isn't important until you're not getting any. And since I'm most definitely not getting any sex, feedback would be really nice. :-> Dedication: To Tarina, Janice, Jess, and Rose...don't kill me! Tim Minear, ::sings:: you're a god and I am not and I just thought that you would know... And David Boreanaz and Julie Benz...you guys are very inspiring. ~ I'm gonna make a mistake, I'm gonna do it on purpose. I'm gonna waste my time, Cuz I'm full as a tick. And I'm scratching at the surface And what I find is mine... And when the day is done, and I look back... And the fact is I had fun, fumbling around... At the advice I shunned, and I ran Where they told me not to run, but I sure had fun, So, I'm gonna fuck it up again I'm gonna do another detour... Unpave my path "You said that you could smell me...well, I can smell you, too! My boy's still in there, and he wants out!" she cried, grasping at the lapels of his jacket, wishing for some way to bring him back to her. Her darling boy, her beloved childe...she couldn't take much more of this. This damned soul...it was nothing but a broken version of the favorite toy that she had once played with and reveled in. But it was better to have the broken toy than nothing at all. Her breath was hot on his neck, her body tantalizing close to him. Her heartbeat pounded in his ears and he couldn't help the growl that escaped his lips. She was so warm, and even though the texture of his clothing he could feel her soft skin. Her breasts heaved as she drew in the precious, vital air she needed now and he traced the curve of them appreciatively with his eye, remembering every inch of her luscious skin. The dreams came back to haunt him then, in that moment of weakness. All the promises, all the passion, all the lust...the memories swept through him in a fury--Hurricane Darla was taking no prisoners. She stood silently, panting, her eyes locked on his and a small smile playing across her lips. Damn her for being able to read him so well. Angel shifted and had to look away from the erotic picture she made, her hair tousled, her tank top strap hanging off her shoulder, two thin threads of her crimson blood trickling down the creamy skin of her chest. And that damn smirk that had always gotten her whatever she had wanted. "You know you want it, Angel. You've always wanted it. Why did you come back to me after you got your soul back? You needed me, just like I needed you," she purred, slinking over to where he stood. She batted her eyelashes and continued to simper, "Give in to those needs, Angel. Give in to me." He tore himself from her grasp and snarled. "You don't know what you're talking about," he growled warningly, putting several feet between them. Her feral smile widened. "Don't I, though? Why else would you have come back begging? I was all you knew for a hundred and fifty years. You were lost without me then, you're lost without me now." "I might have been 'lost' then," Angel argued, blatantly ignoring the erection he'd had from the moment he'd touched her. To think that the bitch still had an affect on him...but then again, she always would. "But I know where I am now. I have a purpose, I'm making my amends. You're going to be doing the exact same thing." "Because you and I are one, aren't we?" Darla said, letting her cardigan flutter to the ground. She walked toward him slowly, like a predator about to pounce. Angel tried to stand his ground but also tried not to flee...not from fear of her, but fear of himself. He was so close to losing control...all the dreams, all the memories. He'd once told Buffy that he was weak; that he'd never be anything else. He'd been right. The man inside him was weak, always looking for an escape, never wanting to face things. It was the man who would break, who would give in. And he was pretty damn close to it. "You've got a heartbeat now, remember? We're not 'one' anymore," he argued, dismayed to realize that he was backing away from her. She giggled and tossed her blond hair over her shoulder, leveling him with a stare. "Silly boy...have I taught you nothing? We are one, and we'll always be one. You're so quick to forget that we spent a century and a half together, lusting and killing and loving. We are bound by blood, Angel, something stronger than...than that love you claim to feel for that stupid cheerleader! That bond is always there, always reminding you of what we shared. Don't you remember? You never had that with Buffy, it was with me! It will always be with me!" She continued to advance on him, swaying her hips wantonly as she stalked him. He swallowed. Hard. He was hard, achingly hard...and the situation was hard. Harder than he'd expected. But then again, so was his cock... "London? Paris? China? Romania? I know you remember...we were unstoppable. We wreaked havoc across Europe and back again, leaving thousands dead in our wake." She paused, her eyes glazing over at the memories. "I taught you everything you know. I may not be able to give you that little moment of true happiness, but I can bring you to your knees or even destroy you if I so choose." He stopped suddenly, his back smacking into one of the huge pillars. Angel was assaulted with more memories, fucking sessions in front of roaring fires, the hunts, the kills, the deaths, the destruction, the lives taken mercilessly at their hands. It was sensory overload, and his current state of mind couldn't handle it. With a snarl he grabbed her by the throat and spun her around, throwing her up against the pillar. "Is that what you want? To bring me to my knees?" he said, tightening his grip on her neck. She didn't seem the least bit fazed. Bitch. "You're right, I do remember. I remember the kills and the hunts and all the times we had together. I remember it all, I can't escape it. So what do you want with me, Darla? Fuck what Wolfram and Hart want...what are your plans for me?" She stared at him long and hard, searching through his soul to the very core of his being where her mate lurked. Darla's eyes darkened in lust as she caught a glimpse of the demon inside of him, of the darkness that resided in his body still. What she wouldn't give for that darkness again... "I want you, Angel. I want you to make me scream like you used to. I want you inside of me, hard and deep like before. Like in your dreams. Come on, Angel," she smirked, jumping into his arms and wrapping her lean legs around his waist, pressing herself against the evidence of his desire for her. "You know you want it." And then the lust that had been building inside of him became too much, too strong, and he was swept away by its power. He was weak, remember? With a growl that seemed to resonate through the huge hall he leaned down and mauled her mouth hungrily, ruthlessly thrusting his tongue inside. He licked and nipped and sucked, needing to taste her, to feel her again. It had been too damn long...he had unfulfilled needs, dark desires...he needed a good fuck. He needed her, just as she had said. "And what do you want, Angel?" she gasped out as he pulled abruptly away from her. Pinning her in place with an icy glare, he reached down and quickly undid his slacks. His preternatural strength and flexibility allowed him to do so without putting her down, and he grabbed ahold of her once more as he let his pants slide down his legs to pool on the cement floor. His thick, cold, hard cock sprang into his hand, stiff and aching for release. Angel kissed her again--vicious, ruthless savage kisses--as his hand ventured under her skirt and found her dripping hot flesh already bare to his touch. So she'd forgone underwear. Easier access. With a groan he pushed her skirt up to gather at her hips and slammed her against the tall column, moving his mouth down to her throat. Her blood thundered through her, so close...so very close... "That's my boy," Darla simpered as she grasped his thick cock in her warm hands, causing him to groan into her mouth. It had been too long, too damn long since he'd been touched by anyone other than himself...an eternity since she'd touched him when he was fully conscious and aware of what was happening. He pinched her clit roughly, knowing she got off on the pain. Jerking and moaning, Darla spread her legs wide, securing them on his lean hips. Her skirt stayed bunched at her waist as he reached a hand down to guide himself to her center. Pulling away, his dark eyes locked on hers. The penetration came without warning, and Darla cried out in pain at the harsh intrusion. He filled her with one solid stroke, sheathing himself in her familiar and yet incredibly foreign depths. She was hot. Her flesh burned him as he pulled out and thrust back in again, not giving her time to get used to his massive girth. She'd adjust in time, and it wasn't like she didn't love the pain. Her grip around his neck tightened as Angel slammed her into the stone pillar with enough force to bruise her frail human body. She moaned at the violence of the act and bucked against him, urging him deeper. Gladly obliging, the vampire thrust into her with wild abandon, seeking to forget everything, everyone, even for just a moment. Darla's inner muscles clamped skillfully around him and he watched as she threw her head back, moaning in time with his powerful thrusts. He wanted to split her in two, punish her for what she did to him, thank her for making him feel this again. The blonde squirmed in his arms, her heels digging into his clenched ass, urging him on. For a second he contemplated pretending her tight, wet heat was Buffy's, but rejected the thought with disgust. Instead, he forced himself to stare at Darla, calling forth every memory he had of their one hundred and fifty years together, making himself remember every person they'd killed, the blood they'd bathed in. This wasn't about pleasure, it wasn't about fulfillment and loneliness and the ever-present ache he lived with. It was just another form of self-flaggelation, a way for him to hate himself just a little more. But that's what he needed now. He needed the hate. He deserved the hate. A part of him got off on it. He nipped at her lips again, drawing her tongue out to play. In mid-air they danced, imitating the motions of their lower bodies. Over and over again their pelvises met violently, bodies melding in mindless fucking. That's all it was. Sex. Meaningless, satisfyingly empty sex. Darla arched back and screamed, jack-hammering against him as her orgasm swept through her. Angry that she came first, Angel reached a hand between their clothed bodies and pinched her clit hard in punishment. She squeaked as his nails scrapped against her aroused flesh. Thrusting numbly into her over and over, Angel felt his own impending orgasm. He allowed his face to shift, the intoxicating smell of the blood that slid down over her collarbone igniting his blood lust. She smirked. "Yeah, Angel, bite me. Bite me hard, baby. Make me scream..." she moaned, exposing the smooth column of her luscious neck to him. She kept eye contact, looked deep into his eyes, hypnotizing him, making him pound into her faster, harder, deeper. Without hesitation he leaned in and sank his gleaming fangs into her flesh, coming as soon as her hot, spicy blood flowed over his tongue. She writhed against him like a thing possessed as he pounded into her and continued to drink. Right before she reached her second peak, Darla licked his cheek and whispered, "I love you." He nearly tore a huge hole in her neck as he pulled his fangs out in shock. His mouth dripped blood as Angel yanked out of her, spilling the rest of his seed on the front of her skirt. Collapsing near the column she'd just been fucked against, Darla shakily gained her bearings and watched him. Angel licked the blood off his lips stoically, his face shifting back to normal. Her gaze narrowed when he didn't make any move to reply and she watched with growing anger as he tucked himself back in and zipped his pants, panting lightly. A long moment passed in absolute silence. They were locked in a silent battle of wills, Darla glaring blatantly at Angel, waiting for him to speak. Almost...needing him to speak. He didn't flinch, didn't move, just met her gaze. The muscles in his cheek flexed, his only movement. Breathing heavily, they stared at each other across the short distance that separated them. He had nothing to say to her. He wanted nothing to do with her. This thing had been building, it had taken over...it wouldn't happen again. He fucked her, he got off, he hated himself for it. Hated her for it. That's what it had been. They'd just added a whole new dimension of hatred to their relationship. And things were far from over. --END Home Updates Fanfiction Essays Betas Resources Video Links Desktop Timeline Family Contact