The skin under her hands is smooth and warm, rich blood and fast heartbeats just increasing Darla's hunger as she rides the man for her own pleasure. She leans down and traces the muscles with her tongue, tasting coppery blood and salty sweat. Her hire winces as the caresses tiny cuts and bruises with delicate expertise, so different from the violence of an hour ago. His hands pull on his leather restrains when she shows him her true face, and his whole body tenses when she digs her fingernails into the skin, turning cuts into gaping wounds, a gag ball muffling his screams of agony. His pain only increases her arousal, and she feels herself climaxing against him even as she rips him apart with hands and teeth. Crimson bathes her face and hands, but she doesn't stop, her pleasure and his pain painting the night red.
And when he's nothing but lifeless, bloodless remains, she raises her head and howls.
A hot shower later she's roaming the streets of L.A. again, the blood still warm on her veins. Her golden hair falls on her face, concealing the scars. Not that this are much of a problem. It's her scarred face and helpless posture that brings in the men, and some women too. They all want to take care of her, they all end up bound and gagged in a warehouse where she fucks them to death -- literally.
Humans never last with Darla. Well, except the pretty girl standing in the corner, waiting. all bravado and bitchy attitude concealing fear and arousal, fearing that tonight might the one she doesn't make it.
Oh, but Cordelia, you're so much fun the way you are right now. The way you hug yourself against the cold when you know I'm close. The half moons you leave on my shoulders when I'm eating you up. The silence you keep. And did I mention how much you hate yourself for liking all of it?
Darla stops in front of her and holds out her hand. Cordelia accepts it without a word and leaves the blonde lead the way. She already knows where they're going anywhere. Ever since that night Darla attacked her, this alley has been 'their' place. Cordelia had abandoned all common sense that night, too tired of being a prisoner of the dark in her small apartment. Was it really so bad to go out and dance and drink and socialize for a couple of hours?
Yes it was, when Darla had chosen that same place to make her rounds. Specially when you let your guard down after a few drinks and stagger your way out. When a small hand pulls you to the darkest corner or the darkest alley and a fist knocks you down unconscious before you can defend yourself. Her moment of weakness had costed Cordelia dearly. Was the fact that Darla was already full and just wanted to play a good or a bad thing?
Even Darla's memories from that night are fuzzy, a little blurred by adrenaline and alcohol. The one thing she remembers the best is Cordelia's blue dress. The way the silk felt as Darla slid her hands under the fabric to caress warm thighs. The sound it made when she ripped it, exposing full breasts and a taut belly, marred by one single scar. The straps she took to bound Cordelia's hands to rusty pipes and gag her pretty mouth. Darla really liked that dress. Almost as much as she liked fucking Cordy. Sweet pretty Cordelia, who had never had another woman between her thighs. So strong and yet so fragile. She could had accepted the pain, the humiliating words, the moment Darla removed the gag from the human mouth and replaced it with golden curls, damp with arousal and need.
If only Darla hadn't make it so good. The expertise of 400 plus years bringing a new knowledge in the young human's life. Small hands cupping her breasts, thumbs teasing the nipples. The taste of another woman's sex, not disgusting as she once thought, but cool, sweet and musky. And the icy tongue inside of her, making her whimper in pleasure. And then the sudden bite.
And as she came, filling Darla with blood and juices, Cordelia knew the worst was yet to come.
Tonight Darla foregoes the restrains, just this once. Cordelia is already on her knees, waiting for her Mistress' orders. The blonde leans down and licks Cordelia's cheek. Such a pretty face, no scars. Those Darla makes on the body, marking the human as hers. Part revenge against Angel, part loneliness, part pure evil, they're now together in it, their very own dark little secret.
Because Cordelia will never tell, no matter what Darla does to her or to anyone else. No words to her friends about the victims lured into the warehouse before secret dates on the alley. Not because it would endanger them, but because they would try to put a stop to it. And Cordelia doesn't want it to end. The pain is hers now to cherish, a reminder of she was never really one of the good guys, just a girl looking for her place in the world. And she was dragged into it by a flaxen haired monster. So this where she stays until the day she dies, whenever that may be. She wanted a place to call her own and this it. She hates herself for liking it, but she does it anyway.
She's even smiling as Darla shows her the knife.