ANGEL: Syllogisms (Faith/Lilah, Faith/Wesley)
sallyanne organized the Darkficathon. I was assigned sallyanne herself, who requested a knife and "Not every monster is misunderstood." She was delightfully vague in terms of pairings.
Title: Syllogisms
Author: voleuse
Fandom: Angel
Pairings: Faith/Lilah, Faith/Wesley
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: She thought it was just for kicks.
Notes: BtVS S6 AU
Between trips around the country, finding new girls to save the world, Faith the semi-retired vampire slayer finds the diciest, loudest club in whatever city she's in, and dances until she's exhausted.
Somewhere between Detroit and Denver--she loses track real quick if she's not careful--Faith spots a familiar face among the creepsters hanging around the bar. It stands out because, first of all, female, second of all, not on the make, and third of all, Lilah Morgan would stand out of any crowd, mysterious neck wound or not.
Faith shimmies across the floor and over to the bar, takes Lilah's drink and downs it, grinding their hips together until there's only ice in the glass.
Lilah watches her with a smirk on her face, only taking her gaze from Faith's body to meet the jealous looks of the others at the bar. When Faith slams the glass onto the bar, Lilah leans forward and brushes her lips against Faith's ear.
"Let's take this outside."
They pass into the alleyway next to the club, stepping over a girl injecting herself with a needle, and a guy passed out, face-down on the pavement. Past a couple fucking against the bricks, until they reach the chain-linked fence behind the building, and Faith shoves Lilah against it.
"Like old times, huh?"
Lilah laughs, her voice hoarse, and shakes her head. "Not exactly."
Faith thinks there might be more to the story, but she's too busy unbuttoning Lilah's blouse to pay attention. Running a hand under her skirt, she decides it can't be important anyway, because Lilah doesn't bother to continue.
"So, Lilah," Faith begins, rubbing her fingers against damp silk, "what're you doing way out here? A little far from home."
"After," Lilah arches her back, gasps, "I died, I got sent here."
"Died?" Faith quickens her pace, runs her tongue over the lace of Lilah's bra. "Wes never mentioned that."
Lilah' hisses at Wesley's name, shudders against Faith's hand.
Faith takes a step back. Smiles.
"I'll give you a piece of advice." Lilah looks her in the eye as she buttons up her blouse, straightens her skirt. "If you know what's good for you, you'll stay out of Los Angeles. And far away from Wesley."
Faith tilts her head. "I didn't know you did the jealousy thing."
Lilah shakes her head. "I'm serious, Faith. L.A. is dangerous nowadays, even for you."
"Because of what?" Faith laughs. "The demons? The werewolves? The vampires?" She throws her arms out, embraces the night. "Been there, done that. Besides," she adds, "an enemy of yours is automatically a friend of mine."
"You think so?" Lilah rubs the scar around her neck. "Not every monster is misunderstood."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Lilah steps around Faith, starts walking down the alley, back to the lights. As her heels click against the pavement, she tosses a last remark over her shoulder.
"You'll see."
*
As soon as she gets back to the motel, Faith calls the Council to see what the deal with Los Angeles is. Andrew gives her a spiel about interdicted territory for a few minutes before she hangs up, dials the number again, and demands to talk to someone who knows how to speak some damn English for a change.
She gets a junior Watcher, unidentified, and finds out that Los Angeles is strictly off limits to her. Particularly.
She checks out, tosses her dufflebag into the back seat of her junker of a Cadillac and points herself in the direction of California because fuck Lilah and fuck the Council. She trusts Angel, big-time CEO or not, and Wes is a part of that package.
And it's time for a visit.
*
She arrives in Los Angeles a while after midnight and figures Wesley's apartment is closer, so she might as well stop there first.
When he answers her knock, he looks...different. His hair's a little ruffled, he hasn't shaved for a couple of days, and there's a glitter in his eyes that Faith couldn't label.
"Hey, Wes." She lets a smile tug the corner of her mouth, leans against the doorway and licks her lips. "Miss me?"
"Faith." There's a long pause, and Wesley gets that look on his face as if he's trying to remember the square root of something. Then he steps away from the doorway, makes an archaic gesture with his arm. "Come in."
"Don't mind if I do." She brushes her body against him as she passes, drops her bag on the sofa, walks over to his desk, where a glass of whiskey sits, half-full. She drinks the rest, trailing her hand over the items littered on his desk; books, a pair of glasses, a statuette, two empty bottles of Jack.
Wesley shoves her down against the desk, and the glass slips from her hand, shatters on the floor. "Wow, Wesley," Faith purrs as he rubs against her ass, unbuttons her jeans and shoves them down her hips. "Didn't know you had it in you."
"I don't," Wesley says, "but soon you will." He slips a hand between her legs, rubs his fingers against her clit impatiently. He gropes at her breasts with the other hand, hard enough to make her squeal.
"Fuck, Wes," she pants, her cheek against the wood's surface. "Just do it."
At that encouragement, his cock plunges into her without warning, and she growls, thrusts her hips back to meet him. She's been anticipating this since she made Lilah come, and it's only a few minutes, a few rough strokes of his fingers against her clit, before she's shuddering against the desk, biting her lip to keep from screaming.
Wesley finishes with a long, deep stroke, and then he fumbles for something on the desk. Faith feels drowsy, out of it, but she looks up and over her shoulder in time to see the statuette before it collides with her head.
*
She wakes up, her naked back pressed against cold cement. She's tied spread-eagle, and from what she can see, she's in a warehouse.
Wesley's there, and a chick that looks familiar, but she's part blue and dressed in heavy dom gear. Is that--
"Fred?" Faith struggles against the manacles around her wrists, her ankles. Blue-girl doesn't answer, just smiles, her eyes on Wesley.
Wesley's chanting something. He circles around Faith, pouring salt with one hand as he walks, and there's a wicked sharp knife cradled in his other palm.
He's got that glitter in his eye again.
"Wes? What's going on?"
"Sorry, Faith," Wesley says, "It's nothing personal."
And then the blade flashes down.
###
Originally posted here.
Title: Syllogisms
Author: voleuse
Fandom: Angel
Pairings: Faith/Lilah, Faith/Wesley
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: She thought it was just for kicks.
Notes: BtVS S6 AU
Between trips around the country, finding new girls to save the world, Faith the semi-retired vampire slayer finds the diciest, loudest club in whatever city she's in, and dances until she's exhausted.
Somewhere between Detroit and Denver--she loses track real quick if she's not careful--Faith spots a familiar face among the creepsters hanging around the bar. It stands out because, first of all, female, second of all, not on the make, and third of all, Lilah Morgan would stand out of any crowd, mysterious neck wound or not.
Faith shimmies across the floor and over to the bar, takes Lilah's drink and downs it, grinding their hips together until there's only ice in the glass.
Lilah watches her with a smirk on her face, only taking her gaze from Faith's body to meet the jealous looks of the others at the bar. When Faith slams the glass onto the bar, Lilah leans forward and brushes her lips against Faith's ear.
"Let's take this outside."
They pass into the alleyway next to the club, stepping over a girl injecting herself with a needle, and a guy passed out, face-down on the pavement. Past a couple fucking against the bricks, until they reach the chain-linked fence behind the building, and Faith shoves Lilah against it.
"Like old times, huh?"
Lilah laughs, her voice hoarse, and shakes her head. "Not exactly."
Faith thinks there might be more to the story, but she's too busy unbuttoning Lilah's blouse to pay attention. Running a hand under her skirt, she decides it can't be important anyway, because Lilah doesn't bother to continue.
"So, Lilah," Faith begins, rubbing her fingers against damp silk, "what're you doing way out here? A little far from home."
"After," Lilah arches her back, gasps, "I died, I got sent here."
"Died?" Faith quickens her pace, runs her tongue over the lace of Lilah's bra. "Wes never mentioned that."
Lilah' hisses at Wesley's name, shudders against Faith's hand.
Faith takes a step back. Smiles.
"I'll give you a piece of advice." Lilah looks her in the eye as she buttons up her blouse, straightens her skirt. "If you know what's good for you, you'll stay out of Los Angeles. And far away from Wesley."
Faith tilts her head. "I didn't know you did the jealousy thing."
Lilah shakes her head. "I'm serious, Faith. L.A. is dangerous nowadays, even for you."
"Because of what?" Faith laughs. "The demons? The werewolves? The vampires?" She throws her arms out, embraces the night. "Been there, done that. Besides," she adds, "an enemy of yours is automatically a friend of mine."
"You think so?" Lilah rubs the scar around her neck. "Not every monster is misunderstood."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Lilah steps around Faith, starts walking down the alley, back to the lights. As her heels click against the pavement, she tosses a last remark over her shoulder.
"You'll see."
*
As soon as she gets back to the motel, Faith calls the Council to see what the deal with Los Angeles is. Andrew gives her a spiel about interdicted territory for a few minutes before she hangs up, dials the number again, and demands to talk to someone who knows how to speak some damn English for a change.
She gets a junior Watcher, unidentified, and finds out that Los Angeles is strictly off limits to her. Particularly.
She checks out, tosses her dufflebag into the back seat of her junker of a Cadillac and points herself in the direction of California because fuck Lilah and fuck the Council. She trusts Angel, big-time CEO or not, and Wes is a part of that package.
And it's time for a visit.
*
She arrives in Los Angeles a while after midnight and figures Wesley's apartment is closer, so she might as well stop there first.
When he answers her knock, he looks...different. His hair's a little ruffled, he hasn't shaved for a couple of days, and there's a glitter in his eyes that Faith couldn't label.
"Hey, Wes." She lets a smile tug the corner of her mouth, leans against the doorway and licks her lips. "Miss me?"
"Faith." There's a long pause, and Wesley gets that look on his face as if he's trying to remember the square root of something. Then he steps away from the doorway, makes an archaic gesture with his arm. "Come in."
"Don't mind if I do." She brushes her body against him as she passes, drops her bag on the sofa, walks over to his desk, where a glass of whiskey sits, half-full. She drinks the rest, trailing her hand over the items littered on his desk; books, a pair of glasses, a statuette, two empty bottles of Jack.
Wesley shoves her down against the desk, and the glass slips from her hand, shatters on the floor. "Wow, Wesley," Faith purrs as he rubs against her ass, unbuttons her jeans and shoves them down her hips. "Didn't know you had it in you."
"I don't," Wesley says, "but soon you will." He slips a hand between her legs, rubs his fingers against her clit impatiently. He gropes at her breasts with the other hand, hard enough to make her squeal.
"Fuck, Wes," she pants, her cheek against the wood's surface. "Just do it."
At that encouragement, his cock plunges into her without warning, and she growls, thrusts her hips back to meet him. She's been anticipating this since she made Lilah come, and it's only a few minutes, a few rough strokes of his fingers against her clit, before she's shuddering against the desk, biting her lip to keep from screaming.
Wesley finishes with a long, deep stroke, and then he fumbles for something on the desk. Faith feels drowsy, out of it, but she looks up and over her shoulder in time to see the statuette before it collides with her head.
*
She wakes up, her naked back pressed against cold cement. She's tied spread-eagle, and from what she can see, she's in a warehouse.
Wesley's there, and a chick that looks familiar, but she's part blue and dressed in heavy dom gear. Is that--
"Fred?" Faith struggles against the manacles around her wrists, her ankles. Blue-girl doesn't answer, just smiles, her eyes on Wesley.
Wesley's chanting something. He circles around Faith, pouring salt with one hand as he walks, and there's a wicked sharp knife cradled in his other palm.
He's got that glitter in his eye again.
"Wes? What's going on?"
"Sorry, Faith," Wesley says, "It's nothing personal."
And then the blade flashes down.
###
Originally posted here.