“I don’t know,” I shrug, giving him a look Cordelia would’ve dubbed ‘doh’. “Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that you’re a liaison to the Senior Partners and they’re not really known for telling the truth of the meaning of things are they?”
Well, it’s true. Just look at Lilah. She lied to us when she roped us into joining this bloody firm. And lets not even start about that twit Eve with her symbolical apple and her constant twittering and twisting the truth. Turned out she was working for McDonald, with McDonald, same thing really.
“Hey, I was just doing my job,” Lilah pouts. “I woulda warned you if I could.”
I raise my eyebrow in her direction, because I sincerely doubt she would’ve done just that. She had that chance when we were alone in that file room, but she didn’t. Apparently Cordelia agrees if the rude hand gestures she’s making toward Lilah are any indication. I giver her a stern look, which slides off of her like water, before turning back.
To find Hamilton even closer in my face.
Both my eyebrows raise this time in curiously, because I have to wonder what he’s up to. Maybe he needs glasses as well? It’s entirely possibly, but I’d think the Senior Partners would strife for perfection when they create some…one. Thing. One? Whichever.
“My what?” I ask, blinking confused and a little bit stunned at that little apro pos. Then his fingertips stroke my jaw line and a shiver goes through me. Cool touch, but not as cool as Angel. Not as warm as a human though. Fascinating. Swallowing, I gaze up at him, my eyes darting to his lips before they move back up to his eyes again. “Is that some strange uppity way to tell me I need a shave?” And then they says I’m insane?
Pryce shivers at my touch - always a welcome reaction. As is the way his gaze wanders before returning to mine.
"No. Actually, I think the unshaven look suits you." It makes a statement. Granted, in other employees, the statement is one of being above the standard office rules. Pryce’s general dishevelment speaks more to his erratic state of mind than to his ego.
“Of course,” I say, lowering my tone, “it proves the point that a corporate dress code is necessary.”
That doesn’t make sense. I pull back, leaning my head against the sofa to look at him confused. “Contradiction in terms,” I point out calmly while trying to decide if he just bloody insulted me. I think he did. I think he just insulted me! This really is such a very strange fellow.
“And so totally coming on to you, doofus,” Cordelia snorts, emerging from behind the sofa to give Hamilton a once over. “Not bad,” she concludes, “But still totally evil. And so dying to throw you over the sofa and….what is with that? You grow a bit of stubble, get an actual dress sense, loose the glasses and everyone gives you those fuck me eyes! Geeze.”
My look slides over to Cordelia with even more confusion. “I’m sorry?”
“Well, honey,” Lilah drawls, “You got me to thank for that. I got him first, so there.”
That’s all well and perhaps not so good, that doesn’t mean there’s still a liaison hovering above me who’s just insulted me. “There is nothing wrong with my dress code,” I point out angrily, “Besides, you’re not my boss. Angel is, and he doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with it.” Other quite possibly wanting to see me *without* my clothes. Now that I can get behind. In private, mind you. “Just because you got created with expensive suits for a skin,” I mutter childishly.
"Angel-" Knows as much about dress codes as any other aspect of running a multidimensional corporation. Or even just his small part of it. "I take it that Angel is a miss the tress for the forest kind of guy. Not one to linger on the details, wouldn't you say?" I'd say Angel is as likely to care what his head of research wears to work as how he takes his liquor with his insomnia.
But Angel is only a thought at the back of my mind. Pryce is most definitely at the front. Anger and confusion mark his frown and his tone is short and snide.
"And I think you misunderstand me, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce." I remember how he called me Marcus this morning. I wonder how he would react if I returned the favor in kind, and another involuntary grin tugs at my lips. "I didn't say there was anything "wrong" with your dress code. I was only pointing out the wisdom in cutting back on distractions in the workplace." And Pryce has the potential to be quite distracting.
My smile sharpens at Pryce's words and my brow raises. Suits for skin, hmm? I would have thought Eve had shattered that misconception about our kind by taking off hers behind Angel's couch.
My voice lowers as I say, "Oh, I wasn't made so different from humans as that. I'm more flesh and blood than you'd expect." Better flesh and blood, naturally - but flesh and blood, all the same.
My hand hasn't travelled far from Pryce's face so I run my fingertips back the way they came along Pryce's jaw. This time I wander upwards from Pryce's chin and barely miss tracing his bottom lip.
"And if you'd like me to clarify that comment, I'd be more than glad to."
“Angel if very concerned about his appearance,” I point out, wondering why all of a sudden this fellow cares about any kind of appearance.
“Oh yeah, he sure does. Did. Does,” Cordelia is quick to point out. “Black, black, black, Oooh and more black…” She rolls her eyes with a shake of her head.
“And lets not forget the hair,” Lilah puts in with a smirk. “If you didn’t know any better you’d think the hair gel did some severe damage.”
My eyes are drawn to Cordelia waiting for her to defend Angel. She just shrugs though, conceding to that point. That still, however, doesn’t answer my question. And neither of them are very helpful.
“No,” I hasten to say at his words. Games. Always playing games. “That’s most definably *not* what you said. You said, to be exact, ‘it proves the point that a corporate dress code is necessary. ‘ Which is something completely different then cutting back on it. You liar. What, you think you can catch me by playing stupid word games and you insist you’re not a bully?”
Both Lilah and Cordelia glance at each other before gazing at me with that fond expression I’ve gotten to know so well. The one that says ‘it’s a nice try, but keep trying, you’ll get the hang of it in a thousand years.’
Of course Hamilton here already got on the fast train into bully town and is doing the whole touching thing again. Which is rather disconcerting. To be honest. Why is he doing that? I stare up at him, lips slightly apart as he goes on about his dress code. And then point out he wouldn’t mind clarifying that comment.
“Oooh,” Lilah leers, “Thems are figthin’ words.”
Cordelia appears behind Hamilton, giving him a very thorough once over. “Challenge him, Wes. Come one, do it! Make him take his clothes off! And pay attention! Keep focused on something other then his hand! Hello!”
My eyes snap from Lilah, to Cordelia to Hamilton again. I’m feeling oddly trapped here with the three of them and their games. There’s no escaping though. No way to get out. “And how do you intent do to that,” I ask, voice far calmer then I feel. “By cutting yourself so I can watch you bleed? Is everyone here a drama queen?” And I thought Angel was bad.
"Necessary for the sake of business being done," I say when Pryce takes offence. "I don't have any personal objections to the just rolled out of bed look." But I imagine Pryce's subordinates would be much more efficient workers if not distracted by their department head. Granted, it's his instability and tendency to shoot first and then shoot again that distracts them most, but-
I smile. "And I never said I wasn't a "bully"." Only that I don't think anyone's ever said as much. When I... bully someone, they generally refrain from saying anything defamatory in my presence.
Pryce's attention is wandering between myself and whoever else he believes to be in the room with us. I'm almost curious as to what the voices in his head have been saying. For a moment Pryce looks cornered, then a calm steals over his expression.
'And how do you intend to do that... By cutting yourself so I can watch you bleed?'
"Actually, what I was thinking is a bit less dramatic." My hand closes not-too-tightly around Pryce's chin, holding his face still, and I brush my lips against his. It's hardly even contact, by my standards, but I do want to be certain he isn't going to run screaming from the office before I make a more definite move.
There’s a bitter snort escaping me at those words. Rolled out of bed look. I’ve not seen my or any bed since Fred died. I’ve not slept for more then a few hours since Fred died. I’m sure he knew that and just used it to jab deeper. He really is a bully, using anything and everything just to wound his opponent. “Bastard,” I murmur, giving him a very dirty look.
“Watch the looks, Wes,” Lilah gleefully points out. “You *know* what they did to me.”
Cordelia makes a gagging noise, shooting Lila a look that screams ‘ewww’. “So not with the need to know,” she murmurs.
My eyes are drawn back to Hamilton again as he plays more word games. “That’s because you probably loom over them menacingly with threats of death in your eyes,” I’m happy to point out. And since I’m not afraid to die, would almost welcome it with open arms if it weren’t for Angel, “You are just that, nothing but a bully. You think by now you’d have grown out of the need to steal lunch money.”
“Shutting up could be a thing now, Wes,” Cordelia murmurs.
And just when I’m about to reply to that, there’s a hand holing my head still and lips brushing mine. They’re not Angel’s, or Lilah, most definitely not Fred’s. Not as warm as theirs, and not as cool as Angel. That throws me for a loop as I stare into a pair of twinkling yet very dangerous looking eyes. “And that *wasn’t* dramatic?” I ask, raising an eyebrow at him.
“It’s certainly distracting,”, Lilah agrees, giving us both a look that is much to eager. Cordelia, apparently, can only make a sound that seems to be agreeable with Lilah’s statement.
Pryce's eyes narrow familiarly, and he glares at me, murmuring a 'Bastard' in my general direction.
'That’s because you probably loom over them menacingly with threats of death in your eyes,' he continues.
"And you think this is me being threatening, do you?" I ask, amused.
But the brush of our lips doesn't send Pryce screaming for the door. Quite the contrary, he becomes very still and the anger in his gaze recedes somewhat as he holds it steady on me.
"No, that," I say, idly stroking Pryce‘s bottom lip with my thumb, "Was nothing. But this…” I stop, and before Pryce can respond I bring our mouths together, moving my hand to the back of his head to keep him from moving away with the force of the kiss. His mouth is pleasantly warm and his taste distinct.
I pull back before the need to breathe can become an issue, and give Pryce the space for that. I give myself the space to move so that I'm no longer "looming" over Pryce, but sitting on the sofa beside him - closer now. I still have one hand on the back of Pryce’s head, and I keep our faces near enough to feel Pryce’s breath.
“Whoa,” Cordelia murmurs. “Okay, keep cool. We can handle this. Breathe, Wes. Breathe. We’re distracting him, this is a good thing.”
She eyes Hamilton with a look I can’t really place because I’ve never seen it before. Actually, she looked at Groo like that once, I think. Why is she looking at his crotch?
Hamilton’s hand it still heavy in my neck and I have to wonder what he’ll do if I move. Snap my neck in two? Angel wont like that very much. His lips still mine tingle as a ball of nerves take hold of my stomach. I’ve no idea what to do now.
“Hey, it’s distracting,” Lilah points out again, rather gleefully. “Come on big boy, you had no trouble dropping your pants for *Angel*. Who knew you were such a slut?”
“Hey!” Cordelia is quick do defend. “You call him that again, I’m going to get nasty”
“Ooh,” Lilah snorts, “I’m shaking in my Manolo Blahniks…”
…Which are so fake,”
I let their bickering trail off, still staring at this very strange fellow beside me, who for some reason seems to think it’s perfectly normal to kiss me. This is confusing. And it still doesn’t proof *anything* about the point we’re trying to make here. Or I am. Or was he? Never mind.
“Yes, it was,” I agree with him, perhaps more then a little breathless. “That does, however not proof anything about *suit*. Which is what we were talking about. I thought you were more intelligent then that and have to wonder who on earth you mixed those up.”
“He always did babble when he’s nervous,” Cordy sighs.
“Or afraid,” Lilah murmurs and I don’t hear Cordelia disagreeing.
Pryce only stares at me for a moment before words begin to rush one another out of his mouth. They would sound defiant, spoken differently - instead Pryce's anxiety is obvious. He's almost breathless, visibly disoriented.
I run my tongue along the inside of my lips, tasting him.
"You mistakently assumed the Senior Partners gave me suits for skin," I remind him, feeling almost anxious myself. The fear tinging the other emotions warring in Pryce's eyes triggers a predatory reflex in me. My fingers twitch where they rest at the nape of Pryce's neck, and I know my grin reflects the feral urge Pryce's challenging words provoke. "I offered to prove otherwise."
My face has been steadily nearing his again. Now I run my tongue along his bottom lip.
"And speaking of intelligence... I would have thought you could put two and two together, Wesley." I use his name deliberately, to see his response. "How might I prove that I am flesh and blood? That the suits do, in fact, come off."
I look him steadily in the eyes, absently stroking the skin at the back of his neck. I bring my other hand up to cup his jaw.
"And what might this have to do with it?" I kiss him again, this time taking further advantage of his slightly parted lips. The taste of him I sampled before is more satisfying when I can pursue it directly, tongue sweeping past Pryce's lips and along his own. A thumb near the corner of Pryce's mouth, and the slightest pressure, discourage him from resisting, not that he does much of that.
“Okay, Wes? This isn’t going to work. I know we said distraction, but there’s no way you’re gonna whore yourself out, kay? Kay. Cordy looks at the scene anxiously, as though she’s afraid lighting will strike and that wouldn’t be a good thing.
”He’s doing Angel’s bidding,” Lilah shrugs, though I’m not sure what the look means. I’m not sure *how* I can even see the look when all I can do is look into that face hovering frighteningly close above me.
“Yeah, Okay,” Cordelia agrees, “But enough is enough, y’know? Not like you would know. You were so Wolfram and Harts little slutty whore.”
Lilah raises an eyebrow. “If I’m a whore, then what does that make Wes? He slept with me, willingly. Besides, who’s working for Wolfram and Hart now?”
“He’s working for *Angel*” Cordelia tries but doesn’t sound very convincing.
“I didn’t assume anything,” I murmur, trying to push myself back into the sofa. This isn’t like with Angel. I don’t feel safe. I don’t feel cherished. I don’t feel sane at all. I feel… I *feel*, and hadn’t been part of the plan.
His lips press to mine again and I barely mange to hide flinch before some fogs takes over my mind. It all becomes rather vague after that. I can hear Lilah and Cordelia bickering and Angel’s order echoing in the back of my mind. Distract him. Keep him off my back. Any means possible.
“How am I supposed to know what this has to do with it?” I shoot back. “*You* were the one who kissed me, Marcus. How about you explain what that has to do with anything to me instead talking in bloody circles. I am not above hitting so called ‘superiors’ over the head when they annoy me….”
“Or shoot them in the kneecap,” Cordelia snorts.
“Or just kill them. Though, those were subordinates weren’t they?” Lilah questions.
“…Just ask Angel if you don’t believe me. You kissing me doesn’t prove anything about your blasted skin, or you damn suits. Now do you mind? I’d like to *breathe!*, you bullying oaf!”
Hmm. Perhaps too far too soon, then? At least it got another Marcus out of him, no matter how barbed.
“It’s where the kissing leads, if you do it right, that has to do with skin, Wesley,” I say, but I give him more room. Humans have some primal reflexes of their own, after all - and they tend to show themselves messily when a human is made to feel like prey.
Not that that would make much difference if I- Well. No need for that.
I smile calmly, hoping to transfer a bit of that calm to Pryce. I release Pryce, holding my hands up palm outward.
“Is this what you want, Wesley?” I ask.
I put my hands down. And one just happens to settle itself on Pryce’s knee.
“You’re insane,” I hiss at him, knowing the whole world probably is already aware of this except myself of course. I’m always the last one to know. I wonder if I can file a law suit against him for sexual assault or sexual harassment. That would certainly be a distraction as well.
“For all about two seconds, Wes,” Lilah sighs. “Senior marionette here, remember? He’d get off those charges so fast it’ll make your head spin, and not of the good kind.”
I glare at her as Hamilton finally pulls back, though not far enough. I still feel as though I’m suffocating. My glare at Lilah turns to him as he puts his hands on my knee and I growl low in my throat.
“Oh yeah, go him Tiger,” Cordelia snorts. “Did you see the size of that manthing?” she wants to know, “No way you can win. Just.. Take one for the team. God, I can’t believe I’m saying this. Just…don’t get hurt kay?
That confuses me. I frown at her, running those lines through my head. That’s not what she told me only moments ago. I don’t know what to do. Angel told me to distract this fellow, and I may be doing that job, it’s confusing the hell out of me in the process.
“I don’t like,” I grit out word for word, “surprise attacks. If you have something to proof to me, I’d like to be informed and not pounced upon without warning.” And that didn’t make any sense at all. God.
Pryce's hisses and growls do not make it easy removing my hand from his knee. I've never much considered it, but I do see how Pryce might be uncomfortable with that fact... So remove the hand I do, with the same calm smile in place.
Pryce is frowning in confusion and breathing uneasily, as if my sitting so near has somehow limited the supply of oxygen in the office.
But not making a move to withdraw? Or even protesting my having "pounced upon" him... Other than to ask for some warning...
"Fair enough," I say. "No surprise attacks." I settle back on the sofa, stretching one arm out across its back, amused and casual. "So is that to say you would like for me to "pounce upon" you? So long as you're informed first, of course."
Well, it’s true. Just look at Lilah. She lied to us when she roped us into joining this bloody firm. And lets not even start about that twit Eve with her symbolical apple and her constant twittering and twisting the truth. Turned out she was working for McDonald, with McDonald, same thing really.
“Hey, I was just doing my job,” Lilah pouts. “I woulda warned you if I could.”
I raise my eyebrow in her direction, because I sincerely doubt she would’ve done just that. She had that chance when we were alone in that file room, but she didn’t. Apparently Cordelia agrees if the rude hand gestures she’s making toward Lilah are any indication. I giver her a stern look, which slides off of her like water, before turning back.
To find Hamilton even closer in my face.
Both my eyebrows raise this time in curiously, because I have to wonder what he’s up to. Maybe he needs glasses as well? It’s entirely possibly, but I’d think the Senior Partners would strife for perfection when they create some…one. Thing. One? Whichever.
“My what?” I ask, blinking confused and a little bit stunned at that little apro pos. Then his fingertips stroke my jaw line and a shiver goes through me. Cool touch, but not as cool as Angel. Not as warm as a human though. Fascinating. Swallowing, I gaze up at him, my eyes darting to his lips before they move back up to his eyes again. “Is that some strange uppity way to tell me I need a shave?” And then they says I’m insane?
Reply
"No. Actually, I think the unshaven look suits you." It makes a statement. Granted, in other employees, the statement is one of being above the standard office rules. Pryce’s general dishevelment speaks more to his erratic state of mind than to his ego.
“Of course,” I say, lowering my tone, “it proves the point that a corporate dress code is necessary.”
Reply
“And so totally coming on to you, doofus,” Cordelia snorts, emerging from behind the sofa to give Hamilton a once over. “Not bad,” she concludes, “But still totally evil. And so dying to throw you over the sofa and….what is with that? You grow a bit of stubble, get an actual dress sense, loose the glasses and everyone gives you those fuck me eyes! Geeze.”
My look slides over to Cordelia with even more confusion. “I’m sorry?”
“Well, honey,” Lilah drawls, “You got me to thank for that. I got him first, so there.”
That’s all well and perhaps not so good, that doesn’t mean there’s still a liaison hovering above me who’s just insulted me. “There is nothing wrong with my dress code,” I point out angrily, “Besides, you’re not my boss. Angel is, and he doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with it.” Other quite possibly wanting to see me *without* my clothes. Now that I can get behind. In private, mind you. “Just because you got created with expensive suits for a skin,” I mutter childishly.
Reply
But Angel is only a thought at the back of my mind. Pryce is most definitely at the front. Anger and confusion mark his frown and his tone is short and snide.
"And I think you misunderstand me, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce." I remember how he called me Marcus this morning. I wonder how he would react if I returned the favor in kind, and another involuntary grin tugs at my lips. "I didn't say there was anything "wrong" with your dress code. I was only pointing out the wisdom in cutting back on distractions in the workplace." And Pryce has the potential to be quite distracting.
My smile sharpens at Pryce's words and my brow raises. Suits for skin, hmm? I would have thought Eve had shattered that misconception about our kind by taking off hers behind Angel's couch.
My voice lowers as I say, "Oh, I wasn't made so different from humans as that. I'm more flesh and blood than you'd expect." Better flesh and blood, naturally - but flesh and blood, all the same.
My hand hasn't travelled far from Pryce's face so I run my fingertips back the way they came along Pryce's jaw. This time I wander upwards from Pryce's chin and barely miss tracing his bottom lip.
"And if you'd like me to clarify that comment, I'd be more than glad to."
Reply
“Oh yeah, he sure does. Did. Does,” Cordelia is quick to point out. “Black, black, black, Oooh and more black…” She rolls her eyes with a shake of her head.
“And lets not forget the hair,” Lilah puts in with a smirk. “If you didn’t know any better you’d think the hair gel did some severe damage.”
My eyes are drawn to Cordelia waiting for her to defend Angel. She just shrugs though, conceding to that point. That still, however, doesn’t answer my question. And neither of them are very helpful.
“No,” I hasten to say at his words. Games. Always playing games. “That’s most definably *not* what you said. You said, to be exact, ‘it proves the point that a corporate dress code is necessary. ‘ Which is something completely different then cutting back on it. You liar. What, you think you can catch me by playing stupid word games and you insist you’re not a bully?”
Both Lilah and Cordelia glance at each other before gazing at me with that fond expression I’ve gotten to know so well. The one that says ‘it’s a nice try, but keep trying, you’ll get the hang of it in a thousand years.’
Of course Hamilton here already got on the fast train into bully town and is doing the whole touching thing again. Which is rather disconcerting. To be honest. Why is he doing that? I stare up at him, lips slightly apart as he goes on about his dress code. And then point out he wouldn’t mind clarifying that comment.
“Oooh,” Lilah leers, “Thems are figthin’ words.”
Cordelia appears behind Hamilton, giving him a very thorough once over. “Challenge him, Wes. Come one, do it! Make him take his clothes off! And pay attention! Keep focused on something other then his hand! Hello!”
My eyes snap from Lilah, to Cordelia to Hamilton again. I’m feeling oddly trapped here with the three of them and their games. There’s no escaping though. No way to get out. “And how do you intent do to that,” I ask, voice far calmer then I feel. “By cutting yourself so I can watch you bleed? Is everyone here a drama queen?” And I thought Angel was bad.
Reply
I smile. "And I never said I wasn't a "bully"." Only that I don't think anyone's ever said as much. When I... bully someone, they generally refrain from saying anything defamatory in my presence.
Pryce's attention is wandering between myself and whoever else he believes to be in the room with us. I'm almost curious as to what the voices in his head have been saying. For a moment Pryce looks cornered, then a calm steals over his expression.
'And how do you intend to do that... By cutting yourself so I can watch you bleed?'
"Actually, what I was thinking is a bit less dramatic." My hand closes not-too-tightly around Pryce's chin, holding his face still, and I brush my lips against his. It's hardly even contact, by my standards, but I do want to be certain he isn't going to run screaming from the office before I make a more definite move.
Reply
“Watch the looks, Wes,” Lilah gleefully points out. “You *know* what they did to me.”
Cordelia makes a gagging noise, shooting Lila a look that screams ‘ewww’. “So not with the need to know,” she murmurs.
My eyes are drawn back to Hamilton again as he plays more word games. “That’s because you probably loom over them menacingly with threats of death in your eyes,” I’m happy to point out. And since I’m not afraid to die, would almost welcome it with open arms if it weren’t for Angel, “You are just that, nothing but a bully. You think by now you’d have grown out of the need to steal lunch money.”
“Shutting up could be a thing now, Wes,” Cordelia murmurs.
And just when I’m about to reply to that, there’s a hand holing my head still and lips brushing mine. They’re not Angel’s, or Lilah, most definitely not Fred’s. Not as warm as theirs, and not as cool as Angel. That throws me for a loop as I stare into a pair of twinkling yet very dangerous looking eyes. “And that *wasn’t* dramatic?” I ask, raising an eyebrow at him.
“It’s certainly distracting,”, Lilah agrees, giving us both a look that is much to eager. Cordelia, apparently, can only make a sound that seems to be agreeable with Lilah’s statement.
Reply
'That’s because you probably loom over them menacingly with threats of death in your eyes,' he continues.
"And you think this is me being threatening, do you?" I ask, amused.
But the brush of our lips doesn't send Pryce screaming for the door. Quite the contrary, he becomes very still and the anger in his gaze recedes somewhat as he holds it steady on me.
"No, that," I say, idly stroking Pryce‘s bottom lip with my thumb, "Was nothing. But this…” I stop, and before Pryce can respond I bring our mouths together, moving my hand to the back of his head to keep him from moving away with the force of the kiss. His mouth is pleasantly warm and his taste distinct.
I pull back before the need to breathe can become an issue, and give Pryce the space for that. I give myself the space to move so that I'm no longer "looming" over Pryce, but sitting on the sofa beside him - closer now. I still have one hand on the back of Pryce’s head, and I keep our faces near enough to feel Pryce’s breath.
“…might be a bit dramatic,” I finish.
Reply
She eyes Hamilton with a look I can’t really place because I’ve never seen it before. Actually, she looked at Groo like that once, I think. Why is she looking at his crotch?
“No reason!” Cordelia quickly squeaks, “Just keep breathing.”
Hamilton’s hand it still heavy in my neck and I have to wonder what he’ll do if I move. Snap my neck in two? Angel wont like that very much. His lips still mine tingle as a ball of nerves take hold of my stomach. I’ve no idea what to do now.
“Hey, it’s distracting,” Lilah points out again, rather gleefully. “Come on big boy, you had no trouble dropping your pants for *Angel*. Who knew you were such a slut?”
“Hey!” Cordelia is quick do defend. “You call him that again, I’m going to get nasty”
“Ooh,” Lilah snorts, “I’m shaking in my Manolo Blahniks…”
…Which are so fake,”
I let their bickering trail off, still staring at this very strange fellow beside me, who for some reason seems to think it’s perfectly normal to kiss me. This is confusing. And it still doesn’t proof *anything* about the point we’re trying to make here. Or I am. Or was he? Never mind.
“Yes, it was,” I agree with him, perhaps more then a little breathless. “That does, however not proof anything about *suit*. Which is what we were talking about. I thought you were more intelligent then that and have to wonder who on earth you mixed those up.”
“He always did babble when he’s nervous,” Cordy sighs.
“Or afraid,” Lilah murmurs and I don’t hear Cordelia disagreeing.
Reply
I run my tongue along the inside of my lips, tasting him.
"You mistakently assumed the Senior Partners gave me suits for skin," I remind him, feeling almost anxious myself. The fear tinging the other emotions warring in Pryce's eyes triggers a predatory reflex in me. My fingers twitch where they rest at the nape of Pryce's neck, and I know my grin reflects the feral urge Pryce's challenging words provoke. "I offered to prove otherwise."
My face has been steadily nearing his again. Now I run my tongue along his bottom lip.
"And speaking of intelligence... I would have thought you could put two and two together, Wesley." I use his name deliberately, to see his response. "How might I prove that I am flesh and blood? That the suits do, in fact, come off."
I look him steadily in the eyes, absently stroking the skin at the back of his neck. I bring my other hand up to cup his jaw.
"And what might this have to do with it?" I kiss him again, this time taking further advantage of his slightly parted lips. The taste of him I sampled before is more satisfying when I can pursue it directly, tongue sweeping past Pryce's lips and along his own. A thumb near the corner of Pryce's mouth, and the slightest pressure, discourage him from resisting, not that he does much of that.
Reply
”He’s doing Angel’s bidding,” Lilah shrugs, though I’m not sure what the look means. I’m not sure *how* I can even see the look when all I can do is look into that face hovering frighteningly close above me.
“Yeah, Okay,” Cordelia agrees, “But enough is enough, y’know? Not like you would know. You were so Wolfram and Harts little slutty whore.”
Lilah raises an eyebrow. “If I’m a whore, then what does that make Wes? He slept with me, willingly. Besides, who’s working for Wolfram and Hart now?”
“He’s working for *Angel*” Cordelia tries but doesn’t sound very convincing.
“I didn’t assume anything,” I murmur, trying to push myself back into the sofa. This isn’t like with Angel. I don’t feel safe. I don’t feel cherished. I don’t feel sane at all. I feel… I *feel*, and hadn’t been part of the plan.
His lips press to mine again and I barely mange to hide flinch before some fogs takes over my mind. It all becomes rather vague after that. I can hear Lilah and Cordelia bickering and Angel’s order echoing in the back of my mind. Distract him. Keep him off my back. Any means possible.
“How am I supposed to know what this has to do with it?” I shoot back. “*You* were the one who kissed me, Marcus. How about you explain what that has to do with anything to me instead talking in bloody circles. I am not above hitting so called ‘superiors’ over the head when they annoy me….”
“Or shoot them in the kneecap,” Cordelia snorts.
“Or just kill them. Though, those were subordinates weren’t they?” Lilah questions.
“…Just ask Angel if you don’t believe me. You kissing me doesn’t prove anything about your blasted skin, or you damn suits. Now do you mind? I’d like to *breathe!*, you bullying oaf!”
Reply
“It’s where the kissing leads, if you do it right, that has to do with skin, Wesley,” I say, but I give him more room. Humans have some primal reflexes of their own, after all - and they tend to show themselves messily when a human is made to feel like prey.
Not that that would make much difference if I- Well. No need for that.
I smile calmly, hoping to transfer a bit of that calm to Pryce. I release Pryce, holding my hands up palm outward.
“Is this what you want, Wesley?” I ask.
I put my hands down. And one just happens to settle itself on Pryce’s knee.
Reply
“For all about two seconds, Wes,” Lilah sighs. “Senior marionette here, remember? He’d get off those charges so fast it’ll make your head spin, and not of the good kind.”
I glare at her as Hamilton finally pulls back, though not far enough. I still feel as though I’m suffocating. My glare at Lilah turns to him as he puts his hands on my knee and I growl low in my throat.
“Oh yeah, go him Tiger,” Cordelia snorts. “Did you see the size of that manthing?” she wants to know, “No way you can win. Just.. Take one for the team. God, I can’t believe I’m saying this. Just…don’t get hurt kay?
That confuses me. I frown at her, running those lines through my head. That’s not what she told me only moments ago. I don’t know what to do. Angel told me to distract this fellow, and I may be doing that job, it’s confusing the hell out of me in the process.
“I don’t like,” I grit out word for word, “surprise attacks. If you have something to proof to me, I’d like to be informed and not pounced upon without warning.” And that didn’t make any sense at all. God.
Reply
Pryce is frowning in confusion and breathing uneasily, as if my sitting so near has somehow limited the supply of oxygen in the office.
But not making a move to withdraw? Or even protesting my having "pounced upon" him... Other than to ask for some warning...
"Fair enough," I say. "No surprise attacks." I settle back on the sofa, stretching one arm out across its back, amused and casual. "So is that to say you would like for me to "pounce upon" you? So long as you're informed first, of course."
Reply
Leave a comment