Warnings: Sexual situations and dubious motivations for same.
Categories: Femslash, PWP
Pairings: Lilah/Fred, mentions of Lilah/Wesley, Wesley/Fred
Characters: Lilah Morgan (primary), Winifred Burkle
Spoilers: Slight spoiler for Deep Down.
A/N: Written for the femslash porn battle. Prompt: Lilah/Fred, if only Wesley knew. Additional influence from prompt 56 at 100 Women. Lilah has a score to settle. Early season four.
Disclaimer: Since Mutant Enemy respects its own property, I will do the same. This universe belongs to the great and powerful Joss.
Lilah studied the girl over her drink. A flat-chested skinny little geek. Yet Wesley thought she hung the moon. He even got off on the glasses and the pigtails. Pigtails! She looked like a reject from Hee Haw, or whatever rednecks watched on television these days.
The girl sidled up to the bar and ordered a drink. No, she ordered a soda, and then sat at the bar to drink it, like this was the counter at Ye Olde Soda Shoppe, complete with the double P. An idea formed in the back of Lilah's brain. Not a good idea, perhaps, but it would do.
They were past the awkward phase and relaxing into the small talk when it happened. Fred smiled, and Lilah saw a glimmer of what kept Wesley so enchanted. Little Winifred Burkle had the kind of smile that people sold their souls over -- Lilah knew. She'd brokered a few of those deals herself. Any plastic surgeon could sell a pair of breasts, and this town crawled with personal trainers willing to install flat stomachs and buns of steel, with or without magical enhancements, but genuine smiles, those were a valuable commodity.
Right now, Lilah saw why.
"Let's go back to my place." She gave a smile of her own, and while, for once, she cared that it lacked the genuine glow, she could add an alluring twist of wickedness to hers. At least, certain men found it alluring enough. It had worked on Wesley, months ago. As she had that night, she leaned forward and trailed her fingers along Fred's arm. "It's too loud in here."
Fifteen minutes later, Wesley's perfect little Fred perched on the edge of Lilah's leather sofa and did an almost credible job of disguising her nerves.
"Drink?" Lilah pulled out two glasses.
"No thank you." Fred smiled again. "Two sodas in a night is my limit, otherwise I won't sleep a wink."
Lilah watched the girl's knuckles turn white as she curled her fingers around the edge of the sofa cushion, and considered explaining that soda was not what she had intended to offer. Then Fred kicked off her shoes and curled herself up onto the sofa, her skirt sliding up to display pale, slender thighs.
She started rubbing one of her feet. "I hope you don't mind, it's just that those darn things ain't really made for walking."
Her own shoes joined Fred's under the coffee table, and Lilah sank down on the sofa beside her. She ran one manicured finger over the girl's ankle bone. "Allow me."
Fred leaned back and surrendered her foot without argument. A soft sigh escaped her lips, and when Lilah's hands worked their way up her calf, she stretched like a cat and leaned her head back over the arm of the sofa. "That feels nice."
Lilah conducted a mental inventory of all the lovely implements in the box under her bed, and thought of several that might prove especially well suited to the evening. The thought of Wesley's sweet little farm girl at her mercy, especially quite willingly at her mercy . . . she let her fingers trail past Fred's knee, testing her response.
Satisfied with that answer, Lilah ran her hand further up Fred's thigh, to rest just beneath the edge of her short skirt.
This time, Fred sat up swiftly, her hair escaping the pigtails to fall a little wildly around her shoulders, but just as Lilah expected to see shock or confusion on her face, Fred treated her to that glorious smile. "And here I worried you might not ask."
Lilah rarely found herself at a loss for words, but when Fred glided that lithe little body into her lap and met Lilah's gaze eye for eye, she had to admit she felt outplayed. At least momentarily.
Where exactly was the snow white lamb she'd been leading so easily to the slaughter?
"So are you going to kiss me, or is this the kind of thing where people don't kiss on the mouth?" Fred's eyes glittered with challenge.
Lilah never backed down from a challenge.
The girl tasted like cherry coke, and for all the boldness she showed a moment before, her kiss was soft and gentle. Almost shy.
And Lilah found herself returning that gentleness, because Fred was massaging her scalp and pressing her back into the soft leather, and it just felt so damn good to let her. She reasserted control of the situation to find the buttons on Fred's blouse, and noticed hazily that there seemed fewer to undo than she'd calculated. Then she discovered the lack of a bra, and soft skin.
Fred sat back and shrugged out of her blouse. She thrust her small-yet-perfect breasts forward, and Lilah found herself closing the distance to take one in her mouth, which brought a hiss of pleasure, and the scrape of clenching fingernails against her shoulder.
Her bare shoulder. The little minx had snuck a hand under her blouse. Lilah gave the pert nipple in her mouth a rather sharp nip, and smiled at Fred's startled yelp. Much better. She curled her fingers into Fred's thigh, and twisted to press her down onto the couch.
This kiss rejected the gentleness of before. Lilah forced her tongue into Fred's mouth, and made a point of taking what she wanted. She pressed her thigh between Fred's legs, and pushed the skirt out of her way.
There was the surrender she craved. Fred's breath hitched, and her bony hips jerked at Lilah's touch. Time to make the girl beg. Lilah traced one finger over damp fabric, and grinned at the harsh edge to Fred's breathing.
When she started to tug those innocent looking panties up trembling thighs, Fred reached down to help, and Lilah briefly regretted the girl's freedom. She had imagined those delicate wrists bound in leather at this point in the proceedings, but she could hardly tear herself away to do anything about it now.
Fred let one foot slip down to the floor while the other dug in between the back of the sofa and the cushion, her skirt bunched around her waist and her lovely breasts pointing upward as she rolled her head back and exposed her throat.
Lilah wanted to tease her, and hear her plead for release, but first she had to taste that throat, and drag her lips down to the hollow above her collarbone. She sampled the girl's breasts again, her focus narrowing to warm skin and breathy little sighs.
When Fred grabbed her wrist and steered her hand to needy flesh, she was already feeling the clench of muscles around her fingers before she even noticed the absence of the begging she so desired. She pulled her hand back.
"No." Fingernails bit into her wrist. "Finish it."
She settled for the want in Fred's eyes, and the slight strain in the voice that delivered the command. Lilah let her thumb press against Fred's clit as she resumed thrusting her fingers into the girl.
Fred pushed herself up off the sofa, her hips bucking against the invading hand, a sheen of sweat making her pale skin glisten. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and her mouth fell open as she tensed and came. She collapsed onto the couch, laughing, her body still shuddering, and for a moment Lilah found herself just watching her breathe.
"I really needed that." Fred stretched and sat up. Then she caught Lilah's face between her hands for a sweet, breathless kiss. Her hands went to work on Lilah's clothes. "Your turn."
Any hope Lilah still held of regaining the upper hand disappeared when Fred reached under her skirt, and nipped at her throat. She let her head fall back against the leather in surrender.
"You're really beautiful when you aren't, you know, trying to be evil." Another tender kiss teased Lilah's lips apart, and when Fred pulled back, she flashed that smile again. Then, with a laugh, she stole the line Lilah had been planning all night. "If only Wesley knew."
This transformative work constitutes a fair use of any copyrighted material as provided for in section 107 of the US Copyright Law. Buffy the Vampire Slayer™©, Angel™©, and related properties exist as Registered Trademarks of Mutant Enemy. No copyright infringement intended. No profits made here. © Spiletta42, November 2009.