Desktop Event
by Jennifer-Oksana

"Stop talking to me," Wesley said, trying to shake off a hand he could almost convince himself wasn't there.

She'd appeared to him, (how else?), in the middle of the night, just like a succubus. Straddling his waist, looking down at him with a smirk. For some reason, she had a scar on her throat, but Wesley supposed that was some bizarre mind game of Lilah's or yet another nightmare.

He'd had so many.

"I don't feel like shutting up," Lilah said. "Eternity is silence, Wes. It's boring. You lose your mind in the silence. Hey, when did you lose yours, anyway? I only went totally crazy after I lost my head, but've been seeing things for years."

"Exactly. Which is why, if I can make you SHUT UP, you will go away," Wesley said, turning back to his computer. "Now, if you'll excuse me, running Wolfram and Hart is hardly the picnic you'd think it was."

He looked up to see Lilah, knees splayed open, drawing her nubby tweed skirt up her long, creamy thighs.

"You know how to shut me up, lover," Lilah purred. "And it's been a stressful day."

Wesley snorted. "You're not here," he said. "Nobody else can see you. Wolfram and Hart most certainly monitors spectral energy in the building. You are a manifestation of my failed sanity."

"But I'll feel really good around your cock," Lilah said, putting a hand atop his keyboard. "You know it's true. You can put your hand on my mouth and tell me how I'll shut up now, because I love having you balls-deep in me."

"And you're already wet, is that it?" Wesley asked, trying to maintain a fine edge of irritation and failing. Really, he had practically memorized her body even though the extent of Wesley and Lilah's affair had been a few one-night stands. The way her neck tilted back, even with the slight disfigurement of her scar, was really quite sexy.

"For you? Always," Lilah said in a low rasp of a voice. "Come on, Wes. Fuck me. Remember what it feels like to be the man."

He pushed his chair back, ghosting a hand over her breasts, which surged up and back ardently.

"Whatever Lilah wants," he murmured, unzipping his fly as her manicured fingernails dug into the wood on his desk. "Lilah poisons."

She hadn't lied; she was wet and felt amazing, hot and tight and slick about his cock, and Wesley closed his eyes as he slammed into her over and over again, her moans urging him on.

"I want you to remember this," Lilah said. "How good we were together. Over and over again."

"I could do this a thousand times, but it wouldn't be real," Wesley grunted, feeling himself close.

"Are you really so sure about that?" Lilah said, her voice close to his ear. "What about those nightmares? Are you sure you can trust Angel? Are you absolutely sure?"

"Even when you're a manifestation of madness, you can't help but mock Angel, can you?" Wesley asked, pulling her by the arse closer so that he could fuck her deeper.

"I'm serious," Lilah said. "You don't trust him. You know he's hiding something from you. If you let me, I can help you."

"Shut up," Wesley growled, coming hard with the next thrust. "You can't help me. No one can."

"Oh, the evil lawyer bitch strikes a nerve," Lilah said, handing him tissue and snorting derisively. "You might want to clean up before your secretary sues you for being a pervert."

Wesley opened his eyes. As he expected, she wasn't there. There was tissue, however, and when he looked at his desk, the clear outline of four fingernails were visible.

"What fresh hell is this?" he asked, feverishly trying to clean up.

Was he sure he could trust Angel, bollocks. Wesley wasn't sure if he was even alive, or if any of it was happening.

Except he didn't trust Angel. And he did think that Lilah, even though she wasn't real nor there, was trying to tell him something.

Damn it all.


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