Window Of Opportunity
by Amy

Wesley forgets, sometimes, how much Lilah knows, just by being at work. There's not a thing that gets past her. All you need to do is listen up at the meetings and people are whispering, murmuring comments about what is and is not happening. What's going on with all the players in the apocalypse, great and small. Where they are, if they're under control, if they're open to corruption.

Right now, everyone's betting on how long before Justine Cooper is let out of Wesley Wyndham-Pryce's closet, where she's locked up (purposes unknown) and apparently not doing much of anything. There's a side bet going on, about what she's doing, which Lilah's fairly certain she'll win. She knows Wes's kinks better than anyone, himself included.

If he wanted a girl bound and gagged at his feet, he knows all he'd need to do is ask.

She'd even supply the handcuffs, if he asked nicely.

The pot at the office is up to four hundred dollars and a striptease from one of the succubae in accounting. They don't know it, but she's planning on winning.

Four hundred dollars can buy a lot of handcuffs. Besides, the succubus is hot.

She leaves work early, tugging at her outfit as she goes. It's amazing what little things can do, how a slight adjustment of a shirt can show that much more cleavage, how folding over the waistline of a skirt just twice can show that much more leg.

Lilah Morgan can make anything look good, and she knows it. On anyone else it could be a dangerous combination.

On her, she knows it is.

She lets herself into Wesley's apartment. It's hot out, a disgustingly California summer afternoon, and Lilah debates a quick shower to cool down before doing what she wants to do.

But this isn't the time for want. It's the time for need.

Well... maybe a little want.

She walks smoothly through his apartment, aware of how she looks even when no one else is watching. The nondescript key from the nondescript drawer, hidden so well no one knows where it is except him (and her, but he doesn't know that), and the closet door is open and Justine is glaring up at her like she's the Antichrist.

Flattery will get you everywhere.

"Hi," Lilah says, her words liquid velvet. "Justine. Good to see you again."

Justine says something, probably, but it's into the gag so Lilah isn't sure what she says. So she just smiles back as she unlocks the cage door.

"I guess you want me to take off the gag?" Lilah asks, almost casually. Almost.

Justine glares. It's always nice to have a one-sided conversation. Well, fun for Lilah, at least. She can't speak for Justine.

Which is a pity, because right now Justine can't speak for herself either.

"Come on," Lilah says. "You know the rules. I ungag you, you're going to have to tell me things."

The gag can't disguise Justine's snort.

"There's an office poll, you know," she says. "For what you're doing here. I bet no one would ever believe me if I told them that you say you just sit here all day."

Justine rolls her eyes.

"Hey, I'm not arguing. I know you're not fucking him ragged every night. That's my job." A smile, sharper than a serpent's tooth. "Bet you must love hearing that every night. Great sounds to sleep to, right?"

If looks could kill, Lilah would be dead. But they don't and she's not and Justine's rage is so high that Lilah's surprised she hasn't managed to break the bonds just to attempt to kick Lilah's ass again.

After all, third time would be the charm, right?

"I don't care, really," Lilah continues. "Whether you're blowing him, whether you're fucking him, whether you sit at his side to give him hand jobs any time he tells you to and call him Master when you're done. I just want to know."

Justine's hands are tied behind her back, but Lilah's fairly certain the girl is giving her the finger anyway.

"He ever go down on you, Justine?" Lilah whispers, her voice charmingly acidic. "He's great with his tongue. So'm I, in case you haven't heard," she adds, almost a passing thought, as she leans forwards and unbuttons the girl's jeans. "When's the last time he got you off? I know it wasn't last night. He was in bed with me then." A quick glance at Justine's face. "You want this, or you want to talk?"

Justine's still glaring at her.

"Want me to ungag you? Not going to do it unless you ask." And a little laugh at her joke. "Not that you can ask me until I do it. Which I guess is kind of a stalemate here, right? Maybe I can wait til Wesley comes back, ask his opinion. What do you say?"

Justine's eyes are like fire.

"Right, you can't say." Lilah smiles. "Well, just this once." And she unties the gag.

"You stupid fucking cuntsucking-"

"Um. Justine?" Lilah says, sounding more amused than insulted. "I could leave you tied up a lot more uncomfortably than I found you. Or we could have fun. I've got about an hour before he's definitely going to be back; your window of opportunity is closing. What's it going to be?"

Silence, sullen silence, for a long time. And then speaking. "He gave me a hand job," she murmurs. "Better than the last time. He learned from you."

"I'm a good teacher." Lilah's hands, pushing at Justine's unfastened pants. "You want this or no?"

Justine fights it, or tries to, but it's been too long and she doesn't last. "You know I do."

A thin smile. "Of course I know, but I like to hear you say it. Want to beg also and make me the happiest person on earth?"

Justine's pants are around her knees and her arms are still bound, so it's really kind of impressive that she manages to roll over and pin Lilah.

Not well. But she tries, and for what it is it's an impressive show.

Justine understands, on some level, what Lilah's trying to do, the way she's recreating everything Wes has ever done, and doing it better than he ever did. She's commented on it enough. But right now she's going for a different plan of attack.

"You have me bound, gagged, and naked and all you can do is talk about him," Justine whispers. "What's that saying to you?"

"That I have my priorities in order." Lilah moves suddenly, a little trick she picked up from one too many one-night stands who thought that girls should fuck in the missionary position, and now she's straddling Justine, who's staring up at her and waiting.

"Window of opportunity," Justine says.

"You ready to tell me now?"

"I'm ready."

"I'm waiting."

"He thinks you're beautiful," she says. "And pretty and smart and just about perfect." Then, darkly, "He also thinks you're an evil sociopathic bitch."

"Oh, come on, sweetheart, you're just flattering me now." Lilah's tone is bored but her hand is inching between Justine's legs and the look in her eyes is more involved than it should be.

"He likes the-" Lilah's hands skim over her clit and Justine arches up.

"Hey, if you're not going to talk, I'm not going to do this," Lilah murmurs, although her hands never stop moving.

Lips moving, trying to insult. "You are such a goddamned whore-"

But you can't insult Lilah. Not that easily.

Patiently, oh so patiently, "You knew that already. I knew that already. In fact, apparently I'm loud enough that Wes's downstairs neighbors knew that. You were saying?"

"The- the black. The satin. His favorite pair."

Lilah's smile is serpentine. "I'll remember that. Anything else?"

But Justine is beyond talking, beyond comprehension, just arching up to the hand that's stroking her flesh. Lilah can feel the muscles tightening, can feel Justine's body on edge. "Did Wes get you off?" she whispers.

"Yesssssss." Justine's voice is less of an answer and more of hiss as she strains to get just a little more pressure.

"Huh. That's funny," Lilah says. "I guess we don't do everything the same after all."


"I know." She rolls off Justine, smoothes out her skirt, and stands up. "You should probably get dressed."

"I don't have hands."

"Right, right. I always forget that part." Lilah helps Justine up, not harshly but not gently either, and pulls her pants up too.

Justine is beyond rational thought, apparently, because all she can do is mewl kind of pathetically and say "Wesley-"

"Fuck Wesley," purrs Lilah, escorting Justine back into the cage despite her protests. "God knows I have."

"You're just going to leave me here like this?" Justine protests, and there's not much genuine terror in her voice, but there's enough that Lilah hears and recognizes it, and that makes her smile.

"Got to get back to work," Lilah says. "I'll see you later," and she moves to close the closet door.

"I'd get you off!" Justine offers.

"Too little, too late," Lilah says.

"I'll tell Wesley you were here!" Justine protests.

"And of course he'll believe the girl locked in his closet. I know I would."

"I'll tell Wesley you love him!" It's her last feeble attempt.

"Oh, fuck, you're right. I did forget to do something, didn't I?"

And Justine's smiling, thinking she's going to get off, right up til the moment where Lilah fastens the makeshift gag around her mouth again and smiles, the perfect bitch goddess smile, and gets up to leave.

Justine grunts at her.

Lilah smiles even wider. "It's been great talking to you. Thanks so much for your help!" And then she's gone.

The trip back to the Wolfram and Hart building is quick; she's managed to just beat rush hour, and Wolfram and Hart employees have always had the benefit of somehow never needing to worry about traffic. She figures she can clock in a few hours of work before going back to Wesley's place and fucking him until she falls asleep in his arms and forgets that this is just a one night stand going on for three months.

Window of opportunity.

She smiles wickedly.

Before she goes to her office, she checks in with her secretary. "Can you change my bet in the Cooper poll to include a lesbian hand job?"

Her secretary raises an eyebrow. "You sure, Ms. Morgan? She's locked in a closet with just a guy. You could be screwing yourself out of some money."

"Out of all the things I'm screwing," Lilah says calmly, "I don't think that's one of them. Change my bet."

Smiling, she walks into her office and goes back to work.


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