Love Will Keep Us Together
by Jennifer-Oksana

Wes was rather surprised to discover that despite the bad reputation, Lilah found darkness as banal as he did. After a week of the silent, grunting sexual encounters that satisfied (barely), she walked into his apartment after work one Friday and said, "Caveman Wes? Getting kind of old."

"Do you have a suggestion?" Wesley asked, catching himself before he smiled at her.

"Would I have complained if I didn't?" Lilah replied tartly. "What I suggest is that we clarify what this is. Because if it's just you Tarzan, me Jane? It's been fun, but I'm not really interested in losing my job or getting a cap in my ass for a little bump-and-grind."

"Let me guess," Wesley said sardonically. "You'd like me to marry you?"

Lilah snorted, and shook her head. Despite himself, Wesley found that he was interested in whatever depraved proposal the woman was about to present him with a smug little grin. An even smaller part of him immediately brought up the image of Lilah in a catsuit. Bloody Avengers fantasy.

"Could you not sound like a third-rate Angel imitator? It's so boring," she said, a curious gleam lighting her eyes. "Unless you've got a big broody gift you'd like to share with the class. Then I could put up with fourth-rate imitation, even."

"Try again," Wesley said. "Don't have him, don't want him, and what are you trying to finesse out of me?"

"Fine, be that way," Lilah said with a sigh, sitting down on the couch. "I'm suggesting as long as we're doing this, it might as well be enjoyable. No rules, no limits, no safety words."

He looked at her with a cocked eyebrow. "You're up to something," Wesley said quietly. "But right now, you have my interest. I'm willing to try what you have in mind."

She smiled at him, and for a moment, she looked blissfully young and giddy. "Give me two minutes," she said, taking her gym bag and fleeing to the bathroom.

Wesley took the two minutes to pour matching glasses of bourbon and consider what exactly he'd like to do to Lilah, if he had his druthers. For some reason, even the black vinyl catsuit paled in comparison to corsets, elaborate buttons, and the exquisite torture of making Lilah wait. Kissing her throat, her shoulders, drawing something over sensitized skin...

Or perhaps just laying her down, fastening his hands around her treacherous throat and watching if she'd come before she died. For before him stood Lilah in full agent provocateur mode, hair gelled up, baggy trousers, black sweater and...the coat. Angel's coat. She regarded him without an ounce of that knowing smirk that marked Lilah, instead looking at him with slow, dark...anger. Want. Something.

He wanted to ask her if she thought it was funny, but the answer was already in his far-too-cognizant head. Lilah knew what she was doing. This was not some joke; Lilah wanted Wesley hard and mean, punishing her for being a wicked little girl without the loss of power that was asking. He could see the appeal of that as well...arse in the air, moaning as he punished her for hours.

But this was too calculated, and so Wesley would return the compliment. "Is this what's considered slipping into something more comfortable?" he asked lightly.

For a split-second, he saw the dismay in her eyes, but Lilah was nothing if not a consummate actress. She raised her chin and gave him a good imitation of Angel's dangerous look. Strode across the room and put her hand under Wesley's chin.

"Not tonight, Wes," she growled. "Stand up. And put down the bourbon. I'm here for you, not the cheap stink of booze and floozies."

"Are you now," he said flatly. Lilah glared and pulled him to his feet by his shirt. She was surprisingly strong given her lithe figure, and he could smell Angel's aftershave on her skin, and though Wesley was sorely tempted to nibble on her neck, he simply stood there, breathing.

"Have you been enjoying the downward spiral?" Lilah asked, hands heavy on his shoulders. "Your last grand fuck you to the universe? You should have known better, Wes. If you're going out, I want a taste."

Her mouth was close to his ear now, and while the cadence was wrong, the spirit was extremely close. Wesley felt the barest of shivers trail up his spine, limp in her grasp. "What do you want me to do, Angel?" he asked, feigning defeat. "I've always been your most faithful servant."

"You?" Lilah asked, chuckling as her fingers raked over Wesley's sweater, pulling it off. "Faithful? You can't even keep your dick out of the whore of Babylon. Admit it, Wes, you've liked it, showing her how hard you can give it to her..."

He didn't want to give her the point, but it was something he would admit in this role. "You ought to try it, Angel," he said, still motionless. "Lilah's got a certain talent for exhausting one's stamina. But you know that she doesn't mean anything. A pretty masturbation tool, at best."

If she hurt at the words, there was no sign. Instead she was forcing him to his knees, pushing him down with the same inexorable gentleness as Angel might have, in a slightly different world. "I know," she said. "You're showing daddy how big you are, aren't you? You don't need him. You've got a whore with pretty tits and he doesn't matter at all."

"No," Wesley said, looking up at her with eyes bruised with longing. For Lilah or for Angel? At this moment, he wasn't sure. "I don't need you anymore. I don't want you."

"Daddy," she said coldly. "I don't want you, daddy."

"I don't want you, daddy," he said sarcastically. "But you want me, don't you? Want to show me how hard you can give it to me, how you can make me scream. You get off on having this power over me, don't you, daddy?"

As casually as picking lint off a sweater, Lilah pushed him backward so that his head hit the floor with a sharp jolt, hovering over him with almost as much ominous dark sex as Angel would have. For a moment, he could almost see Angel himself doing this, holding him to the floor with one hand, smiling at how easy it was.

"Do you think you can leave so easily?" Lilah asked, hissing and hard against his ear. "I'm always going to be there. No matter how many whores you fuck, no matter how many lives you save. You're filth, Wes. You're Judas, and the funny thing is? You keep betraying yourself the most."

"Go to hell, Angel," he said, trying to grip her arm. "I'm not your slave. And not everything is about you."

She pulled away, her smile as sharp as an angel's wing as she undid his fly, drawing a fingernail over his hard cock. "This isn't for me, then?" she asked, incisors shining.

He didn't answer. It was too stupid a question to bother with. Lilah shrugged diffidently, breaking character just slightly. "Not Wesley Wyndam-Pryce," she breathed, hand encircling the shaft and tugging slightly. "His love is pure for daddy, isn't it? Too proud to ask for anything, even knowing he can have whatever he wants."

"I want..." he breathed, looking at her and wondering what it was he did want. What would he ask Angel for? What would he get? "Hard and fast."

"Not tonight," Lilah growled, letting his cock go to pin his wrists down. "Gonna make you feel it. Make you beg."

For the first time, Wesley believed she meant it, because she had the look of a woman possessed, and now she was hard. No more of the coy seductress begging for a damn good spanking; this was hardly a game. And he suddenly did want her to make him feel it, and thus? He decided to ask for the impossible.

"I want you to fuck me on the coat," he said. "Until I'm calling your name. Want you to make me forget I've ever fucked anyone else. What I always wanted from you."

"Done," Lilah replied. "Sit up. Take your pants off. All the way. Slowly. I want to see you."

And it was more than he could imagine even with Angel, because Angel, for all intents and purposes, was there. Hovering like an angry ghost, because he would have never begged if Angel didn't tell him to beg, and Angel never had the right words.

Wesley peeled his trousers off, slowly, watching Lilah watch him, licking her lips. She eased the coat off slowly, letting it pool around her. "Lick your hand," she said. "Good boy. Now. On your cock. That's right. Get on your knees now. Yes."

He did not break eye contact. Not even for a second. Angel wouldn't have liked him to break eye contact. And Lilah's mouth opened slightly, taking a ragged breath. He couldn't imagine what was going on in her head, not even as she spread the coat out beneath him. The smell of leather in his nostrils now, adding another tang.

"I'm going to make you feel it, boy," she promised him as she eased him down again. "You're so nice and hard for me. Gonna fuck you so hard..."

Momentary flash of humor in her eyes at her own expense. Lilah didn't know exactly how Angel would talk at this moment, either. Wesley didn't care; he had Angel and more at this moment, and if his cock didn't get some much-needed friction soon, he would lose his bloody mind.

Unzipping her trousers, Lilah kicked them aside, the sweater ridiculously oversized on feminine curves. "Please," he said. "I need you to fuck me. Whatever you want, I'll give it to you, I'll do what you say. Whatever you say."

"That's my good boy," Lilah said, kissing him on the forehead before raking her fingernails down his chest again. "Good boys get dessert. Would you like yours, Wes?"

"Yes," he said, swallowing as she shoved a hard thigh between his legs, straddling him with a triumphant smirk. "I want dessert. Need it. Please."

"Please what?" Lilah murmured, her mouth burning kisses against his chest, before biting down slightly on his nipple.

"Please, daddy, fuck me. Fuck me hard," he cried out, hips arching up in overwhelming need.

"Mmm," she purred. "Magic words."

And bloody fucking Hell, she didn't need a cock, not when she was as hot and tight and incredibly demanding as she was. Had him pinned to Angel's coat, moaning and pleading for her to ride him. Bending down to kiss him now, thrusting her tongue halfway down his throat, squeezing and flexing around his cock.

"Am I doing it right, daddy?" Wesley asked, stroking her face, daring to tease at the edge of their game.

"Shh," she said, pressing two fingers against his mouth as she thrust down against him, forcing them to keep her rhythm. "Don't need you to talk. Just keep making me feel good, baby and daddy will keep making you feel good."

"I love making you feel good," he said, breaking her rule and groaning as she scratched him for it.

"I'm very glad," Lilah said, pulling one hand to her mouth and sucking on his index finger. "Mmmm."

She was so close, and he wanted to bring her over, the way he would if it were Angel, wanted to make her pleased with him, but she frowned at him when his other hand tried to brush across her clit. "Pushy boy," she chided. "Always has to have control. Can't just let daddy take care of him."

Quickly, Lilah pulled off the sweater and before Wesley could figure out what she was up to, had blindfolded him with it before moving faster atop him.

"I can take care of myself, you know," she taunted him, grinding against him. "Can make myself come so hard. Would you like to see?"

"Yes," he gasped, trying to reach for her and being ruthlessly held down as she drove herself closer and closer to coming.

"Not tonight," she said, whimpering. "Tonight you get to obey me, and I want you to keep doing what I say."

He moaned again, trying not to simply dissolve under the pressure, the ache of being denied so long as Lilah made a small, high-pitched sound and convulsed around him, gasping and choking and scratching at his wrists.

"So good," she managed to say. "So close."

"Please," he said again, not quite sure what he was begging for. "Want to...please..."

"No," Lilah said, arching and slamming down on him, harder and faster now, and Wesley suspected she was going to bring herself over with him, because Lilah was always a quick...and now her hand was on his shoulder, gripping tight. "Give it to me now, baby. Show me how you can..."

And his hips thrust up, hard enough to make Lilah scream her approval, and he was so close, so close but it wasn't quite enough, Angel would have...Angel would have...

"More," he said. "God, give me more."

"Oh, oh God, Wes, I can't," she wailed breathlessly, falling forward, stinking of sweat and woman and Angel's aftershave, heavy against his chest. "Ohh..."

She bit down on his shoulder with the fading cognizance of an exhausted succubus and Wesley came, came hard, the whole world dizzy, heavy, and slick with blood and come as he held her down against him, shuddering and moaning.

"Can I look now?" he asked after a minute or two of hard breathing, bruised and sore and satisfied.

"Yeah," Lilah said, sounding dazed as she rolled onto the coat. "Fuck me, that was intense. I think I pulled something."

"Want daddy to kiss it better?" Wes asked sardonically, taking the sweater off his eyes. She was as sweaty and bruised as he was, and the cast of possession no longer glowed in her eyes. "You certainly weren't shamming about the boundaries of this game."

"Play hard or don't play, I always say," Lilah replied, wiping her face. "I just...yeah. Will probably be going now?"

Wesley thought about it, and a smile crept over his face as he regarded the drained and yet ever-so-appealing woman in his clutches. "Oh, not just yet, Miss Morgan," he murmured, catching both of her arms in vise grips. "I wouldn't want anyone to think that I didn't take care of you properly."

She whimpered, half in fear, and half in want. "No," Lilah said softly. "Of course not."

Wesley eased Lilah to her feet and thought about the contents of his bathroom. "And you won't mind getting nice and clean first, will you?" he asked. "I find that nothing soothes me quite as much as a hot shower. You?"

Big nervous eyes as he led her down the hall, and Wesley knew she was trying to find an angle. It pleased him that as well as she knew him, she couldn't figure out when he was serious and when he wasn't.

After all, he wasn't going to let her win by default.


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