Set during Salvage

 

Wes knows it before she does.  The adrenaline, the fear, it always does it to her, but she didn’t know how bad it was until Wes gave her that look.  Not the old look—I’m better than you, now do as I say.  The new look.  The one that said he understood, and he’d do what he had to to help.

“Faith. . .”

He still sounds like a pretty-boy sometimes, especially when he says her name that way.  With the falsetto note and the hint of shyness that looks so good on him.  Faith arches against the wall, listening to Angelus rage outside.  Pretty soon their protection was going to turn into a cage.  She needs to figure out her next more, something to  improvise. . .anything.

But she needs to think, first.

“I—I can’t—I need—” She knows she’s begging and she hates it.  But it’s building too fast, too hard, and she needs something to break it.  And Wes is right there, knowing the score.

“Oh, and what’s this new development.”

Angelus voice is cruel, but Faith blocks it out.  Concentrates on Wesley deftly undoing her pants and opening them enough to worm a hand inside.  “Hard,” she instructs him.  “Make it hurt.”

“Injuries are a liability,” Wes admonishes, but then he’s got three fingers inside her and Faith doesn’t care.

“Fi, fi, fo, fum,” Angelus giggles and starts shouting encouragements.

Faith grinds against the heel of Wes’s hand.  “More,” she begs.  “Not gonna break, Wes, I’m a fucking Slayer.  Give it—!”

She cries out sharply, Wesley pinching her clit hard, still working his fingers while she spasms around him.

“Ohhh, Slayer-cum.  Taste good Wes?  Don’t forget to save me some.”

Wes looks at her, appraising.  “Better?”

She nods.  She’s still tense, but it’s bearable.  “Thanks.”  She wonders if she should offer something back.  She knows he’s hard for her.

“Just get it done.”

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