Fic post
But not *gasp* C/A. I found a Wes/Illyria(Fred) PWP in my word docs. I can only guess it's for some kink meme or other, but I honestly don't remember. It's finished, though, so I thought I'd post it and maybe ya'll can tell me if I have them in character or not.
Title: None So Blind
Author: Samsom
Pairing: Wes/Illyria(Fred)
Summary: None. It's like an angsty PWP. Set s5, AtS.
Rating: R or NC-17, but no harsh words describing sex acts.
Dislcaimer: Not mine. Greenwalt, ME, Whedon.
Illyria blinked at him with dilated pupils, head cocked to the side.
“Why have you not come when I summoned you?”
Wesley refused to look up, finger or four of Scotch cradled between his palms as he spun the tumbler slowly.
“I didn’t feel like it, Illyria.”
“I have summoned you thrice in the last week and each time you ignored my command.” Illyria walked closer to the couch, standing in front of Wesley’s slumped form. “The Pylean has told me of a word…please. Will this word compel you?”
Wesley laughed a bitter burst of sound that made the God-King’s dead-eyed gaze sharpen.
“Take care you do not mock me after the insult of ignoring my wishes, human, I could crush you.”
Wesley threw the tumbler away, Scotch splashing as the cut crystal made a heavy sound against the carpeting. He stood abruptly.
“You have already done that, Illyria, crushed me into dust.”
Illyria scoffed.
“You are speaking of the original occupant of this body. Again.”
Wesley draped his arms across her shoulders, pulling her closer so that their noses nearly touched.
“Fred, Illyria. Her name was Fred. Say it.”
Illyria shrugged his arms off and stepped back, her movements robotic and curious.
“Your continued affection for this…Fred…is bothersome to me. I wish to have your full attention.”
Wes dropped his gaze to the same spot of the carpet he had been staring at before Illyria’s entrance.
“You do have that; God knows you made sure of it.”
There was a change in the air; Wesley felt the power rushing around him as though someone had turned a tap on.
“I do not in my corrupted form, but perhaps her form would be more pleasing to your eyes.”
Wesley looked up sharply and sucked in a breath.
“Hey, Wesley,” Fred smiled shyly at him, hands twisted together in front of her. She was wearing a blue summer dress, her long hair falling around her shoulders and arms. “How’ve you been?”
She stepped into his space and gazed up at him.
“I’ve missed you,” she told him adoringly, and kissed him with all the innocent passion he ever imagined from the real Fred. He took control and kissed her back, hard, pressing his lips harshly against hers. Devouring her.
It wasn’t her. He knew that, he could still sense the power that ran under Illyria’s skin.
He broke the kiss just as she was responding and reached down, rucking up her dress and palming the backs of her thighs. Picking her up, he walked over to his desk and dropped her down on the edge.
“Is this pleasing?”
He closed his eyes against Illyria’s voice, although his body didn’t care. He continued to harden into stone.
“Don’t speak,” he said, taking her unresisting hand and covering his erection with it. “Don’t speak. Just be her.” He pulled her dress up and dragged her panties off, his own palm sliding between her thighs, into the damp heat of her body. “Be Fred.”
“But I am not,” Illyria said, more to push him than because it was the truth. She wanted to punish him for not responding to her commands. Push the knife in slowly.
He stopped with his fingers sliding against her responsive clitoris, panting with the unstoppable desire she’d unleashed.
“I know,” he said, looking into Fred’s face. “I don’t care.”
He undid his trousers and slid into the furnace of her body.
He thrust, eyes closed, mind in the past.
Eyes bright, smile brighter.
She grabbed him by the arms, by the shoulders, and made all the right noises in Fred’s voice. But in his mind she turned blue no matter how much he tried to tap that untouched Fred part of his mind.
He faltered, his thrusting getting clumsy, but she grabbed him and steadied his movements until he was moving deeply inside of her again. “Talk to me,” he demanded, keeping his eyes closed and bending his head to bury his face in the curve of her shoulder. “Tell me you love me, Fred.”
There was a slight pause in which he thought the thin thread of his fantasy would unravel but then she sighed longingly into his ear.
“Of course I love you, Wesley,” Fred’s voice whispered. She gasped as he stroked in and out of her. “I always have, you know that.” She brought her leg up and curled it around his hip. “And I want you so much.”
He squeezed his already shut eyes and came, gasping.
When he opened them, Fred’s hair was streaked through with blue, her shoulder shining with the essence of the God-King.
“Was that pleasing to you?”
He laughed, and the sound was like broken glass against the pavement.
“I do believe,” he whispered on a choke, the scar on his throat throbbing so much he thought it was glowing. “I hate you, Illyria.”
~end~
Title: None So Blind
Author: Samsom
Pairing: Wes/Illyria(Fred)
Summary: None. It's like an angsty PWP. Set s5, AtS.
Rating: R or NC-17, but no harsh words describing sex acts.
Dislcaimer: Not mine. Greenwalt, ME, Whedon.
Illyria blinked at him with dilated pupils, head cocked to the side.
“Why have you not come when I summoned you?”
Wesley refused to look up, finger or four of Scotch cradled between his palms as he spun the tumbler slowly.
“I didn’t feel like it, Illyria.”
“I have summoned you thrice in the last week and each time you ignored my command.” Illyria walked closer to the couch, standing in front of Wesley’s slumped form. “The Pylean has told me of a word…please. Will this word compel you?”
Wesley laughed a bitter burst of sound that made the God-King’s dead-eyed gaze sharpen.
“Take care you do not mock me after the insult of ignoring my wishes, human, I could crush you.”
Wesley threw the tumbler away, Scotch splashing as the cut crystal made a heavy sound against the carpeting. He stood abruptly.
“You have already done that, Illyria, crushed me into dust.”
Illyria scoffed.
“You are speaking of the original occupant of this body. Again.”
Wesley draped his arms across her shoulders, pulling her closer so that their noses nearly touched.
“Fred, Illyria. Her name was Fred. Say it.”
Illyria shrugged his arms off and stepped back, her movements robotic and curious.
“Your continued affection for this…Fred…is bothersome to me. I wish to have your full attention.”
Wes dropped his gaze to the same spot of the carpet he had been staring at before Illyria’s entrance.
“You do have that; God knows you made sure of it.”
There was a change in the air; Wesley felt the power rushing around him as though someone had turned a tap on.
“I do not in my corrupted form, but perhaps her form would be more pleasing to your eyes.”
Wesley looked up sharply and sucked in a breath.
“Hey, Wesley,” Fred smiled shyly at him, hands twisted together in front of her. She was wearing a blue summer dress, her long hair falling around her shoulders and arms. “How’ve you been?”
She stepped into his space and gazed up at him.
“I’ve missed you,” she told him adoringly, and kissed him with all the innocent passion he ever imagined from the real Fred. He took control and kissed her back, hard, pressing his lips harshly against hers. Devouring her.
It wasn’t her. He knew that, he could still sense the power that ran under Illyria’s skin.
He broke the kiss just as she was responding and reached down, rucking up her dress and palming the backs of her thighs. Picking her up, he walked over to his desk and dropped her down on the edge.
“Is this pleasing?”
He closed his eyes against Illyria’s voice, although his body didn’t care. He continued to harden into stone.
“Don’t speak,” he said, taking her unresisting hand and covering his erection with it. “Don’t speak. Just be her.” He pulled her dress up and dragged her panties off, his own palm sliding between her thighs, into the damp heat of her body. “Be Fred.”
“But I am not,” Illyria said, more to push him than because it was the truth. She wanted to punish him for not responding to her commands. Push the knife in slowly.
He stopped with his fingers sliding against her responsive clitoris, panting with the unstoppable desire she’d unleashed.
“I know,” he said, looking into Fred’s face. “I don’t care.”
He undid his trousers and slid into the furnace of her body.
He thrust, eyes closed, mind in the past.
Eyes bright, smile brighter.
She grabbed him by the arms, by the shoulders, and made all the right noises in Fred’s voice. But in his mind she turned blue no matter how much he tried to tap that untouched Fred part of his mind.
He faltered, his thrusting getting clumsy, but she grabbed him and steadied his movements until he was moving deeply inside of her again. “Talk to me,” he demanded, keeping his eyes closed and bending his head to bury his face in the curve of her shoulder. “Tell me you love me, Fred.”
There was a slight pause in which he thought the thin thread of his fantasy would unravel but then she sighed longingly into his ear.
“Of course I love you, Wesley,” Fred’s voice whispered. She gasped as he stroked in and out of her. “I always have, you know that.” She brought her leg up and curled it around his hip. “And I want you so much.”
He squeezed his already shut eyes and came, gasping.
When he opened them, Fred’s hair was streaked through with blue, her shoulder shining with the essence of the God-King.
“Was that pleasing to you?”
He laughed, and the sound was like broken glass against the pavement.
“I do believe,” he whispered on a choke, the scar on his throat throbbing so much he thought it was glowing. “I hate you, Illyria.”
~end~