__Cinnamon__
By JustHuman



After tossing a tip onto his table at the greasy spoon, Wesley headed back towards the restroom, where a payphone hung, slightly crooked on the wall. Pulling out a convenience store calling card, he punched in a phone number from memory. A raspy voice picked up, "It's a machine, you know what to do." A few seconds of static then a series of beeps followed - two messages. Typing in the access code, Wesley heard Angel's voice.

"Wes, Connor came through the portal that we opened to the Quortoth. He's sixteen, pissed off and moves like a vampire. He tried to kill me as soon as he arrived which really isn't a surprise since Holtz raised him." Wesley could here the frustration in Angel's voice. "I've got an uneasy truce with him, and I'm gonna try and get him to stay at the hotel. Dennis says Cordy's place is clean, but don't trust the phone." Wesley caught himself rubbing the scar on his neck. It was a new and disturbing habit he had acquired and while anything might trigger it, he did it every time he was feeling guilty about losing the baby.

After another beep, "You're not going to believe this. Holtz saw the light or somethin' and he wants Connor to come live with me." Wesley frowned at hopeful and nearly ecstatic tone of Angel's voice, " Oh, Holtz came through the portal too - and I *didn't* kill him. Wes, it's not what I would have wished for, but it's more than I could have dreamed. We saw Cordy's power again. She could light a city block with the power, and it seems to drive evil out of whatever she's touching. Wes it scares me."

Sighing in frustration, Wesley erased the messages and considered the new information. Even though the news about Connor should be encouraging, Wesley was finding it unsettling. Angel sounded so hopeful, like he actually trusted Holtz. On a brighter note, today's little tidbit should help considerably in identifying Cordelia's demon power. Standard texts and databases had not been particularly helpful so far. A demon that could drive evil out must be incredibly rare. In fact, it was possible that some references might not classify such an entity as demonic at all. Making a mental note to check with some sources familiar with supposed angelic entities, he picked up the phone and dialed again.

"Angel I'm glad your son is back, but don't trust Holtz and I'm sorry to say, watch the boy. Speaking of which, Lilah arranged the attack on Justine the other night. She invited me, and I saw it all from the balcony. After the fight Lilah and I...," Wesley hesitated not quite being able to say it out loud, "... spent some social time together. No luck so far in determining what Cordelia's demon powers are, but the information you provided may have given me a new lead."

***

Brakes squealed in the early dawn light as Gunn's truck came to a halt behind Angel's car, on Point Dume. Turning to his passenger, Gunn smiled at a preoccupied Fred who was using her one clean hand to hunt among the bags for a napkin. Obviously covered with icing from her pastry, Fred's other hand was held up high. She gave a little gasp as warm lips encased the sticky fingers, gently sucking them clean. "Mmmm, cinnamon. I love the way you taste, but those rolls only make you taste better."

Shyly, she blushed and glanced away but made no effort to free her captured hand. "It's the cinnamon. I've read it's an aphrodisiac - named after the Greek goddess Aphrodite, the goddess of love. Anyway, it's supposed to be a..." Fred's blush deepened, "Well, it's supposed to get men romantic..." From behind hooded eyes, Gunn glanced at her questioningly while still gently nibbled her fingers. "Well, romantic in perhaps a more physical sense," she continued, while he wrapped his much larger hand around her small one and pinned it to his chest.

"You know, ya sound just like English sometimes, but you're much prettier." Closing the space between them, he began to kiss the long column of her neck.

With a nervous giggle, she reminded, "Charles, it's broad daylight, in a public place, and I thought we weren't talking about Wesley."

"Mmmhmm," he murmured against her soft flesh, his tongue continuing its assault on the throbbing pulse point.

"But, ah, aphrodisiacs are largely urban legends, even though they were legendary long before there were actual urban settings. So, maybe we shouldn't believe in this whole physiological reaction..." Fred's voice trailed off with her sentence never completed. Concerns about public exposure faded away in her thoughts when Gunn's hands slid around her waist and pulled their bodies together.

After a while, Gunn found all that quiet distracting. Lifting his head, he stared into his lover's face. "You stopped talking."

Blinking, Fred stared into his beautiful brown eyes, her voice carrying the husky tones of her mood. "You made me speechless." She snuggled closer so their upper bodies were molded together.

"Oh, that will not do," he said with mock seriousness. "Since you're the one with the bigger brain, I'm counting on you to enlighten me. Maybe you could tell me about protons or something?"

His teasing made her giggle. "Sweetie, I can't claim to be thinking when you're doing those things to me."

Gunn sat up quickly, leaving Fred with a sudden cold feeling where his body used to be. She stared at him wondering what he could be possibly be searching for behind the seat. The whole truck bounced as Gunn settled back in his seat, proudly holding out a leather bound text.

"Gunn, why do you have a really old guide to demons in the truck *and* why are you trying to hand it to me?"

"It's Wes' travlin' demon book. When we were riding together after the shooting, he'd read out loud about our latest case -or the descriptions of the ones with good pictures." Fred was personally finding his growing excitement less than exciting. "I *love* hearing you talk all scientific, but I get the whole not thinkin' thing. So I thought that maybe you could read-"

"Stop! You're telling me that you'd be turned on if I read to you like Wesley read to you?"

Gunn was stunned and a little offended. How could she think that? "Fred, just let me say that I was never turned on when Wesley read to me. Well, yeah, there were the stories about the succubi, and that's only because Wesley can make the most boring shit sound good with that Brit accent of his."

Fred opened the door. "Maybe we should have this conversation later, because I think right now all we should be thinking about is finding Angel and Cordelia." She climbed out of the truck and walked to Angel's car.

What's a guy supposed to do, thought Gunn. It wasn't like it was a big request really. Wasn't a guy entitled to a little eccentricity? Women! Wes would have understood. Hell, he would have been a pal and read to Fred and me while I kept kissing her. Well, maybe not since he wanted to date her too. Yeah, Wes would probably knock me upside my head for asking. Not to mention the part where he wants to have nothing to do with us, and we're all pissed off at him about the whole Connor thing. Well, maybe not so pissed anymore, but still hurt.

Letting out a pent up breath, Gunn got out of the truck and joined Fred. Nothing left to do but apologize. "Fred, honey, I'm sorry. I don't want to make you do anything you don't want to. I just like the sound of your voice. *You* turn me on."

She gave him a half-smile from the other side of the convertible. "How can a girl turn down such flattery? I'm sorry I got so angry. *Talk* about it later?" Ignoring his big grin, she continued, "So, no Angel and no Cordy."

"No dust." At her questioning look, Gunn pointed to the bright sun overhead. "Our boy's smart enough to keep out of that, but he's also smart enough to drive home before dawn." Slapping his hand in frustration against the side of the car, he speculated, " Maybe he's lying low around here. Why don't you try his phone again?"

Fred nodded and pulled out her phone hitting the speed dial. After a moment, she looked at him, "No answ-"

"Shhh!" Gunn gestured and cut her off. Faintly, between the crashing of the waves, they could hear the ringing of a phone. They both began searching around the car and surrounding area. Meeting at the edge of the cliff, they both agreed that the ringing was coming from somewhere down below. It took twenty minutes to find a path and pick their way down to the beach. Calling the phone again, they were finally able to locate it only after a lengthy search. Fred turned off the phone and they both inspected the barren cliff face.

Gunn summed up the situation. "There's no place down here to hide. Can't tell if there was a struggle or anything in the sand. We still don't have any idea where Cordy is either."

"Or Connor, he went missing last night too. Maybe Cordy drove out and picked up Angel."

Gunn shook his head. "One set of tire tracks when we drove in. All right, this isn't getting us anywhere. Let's get the car and take it back to the hotel. We can search it for clues. We should also go over Cordy's place and check it out."

Fred nodded and they made their way back to the ridge.

A little later, Fred was pulling into the garage at the hotel with Angel's car when her cell phone rang. When she answered, a worried sounded Gunn was on the other end. "Fred, you're not going to believe this. As I'm driving to Cordy's, I see her jeep parked on the side of the road heading to Point Dume."

"Is she there? Is she all right?"

"No, that's the freaky part; it's empty. All her stuff is here: purse, wallet, cell, keys in the ignition. It starts up just fine and moves forward, so it's not like it broke down or anything. None of this is meshin' together."

Fred's face fell and she could feel herself start to tremble. "God, it's like they both just vanished into thin air."

"I can't do anything about her car right now. It's been tagged for towing, so I'm calling my friend Sonny to see if he can tow her car to the hotel before it makes its way to the impound lot. I'll meet you there and we'll go to Cordy's place together.

"I just got here. I'll be waiting."

***

Wesley considered tossing the laptop across the room, but jabbed the reset button instead. It was the third time the computer had locked up that day. Cordelia and Fred always made it look easy to run the infernal machine. While it rebooted, Wesley worked the kinks out of his back and realized that he was hungry and the sun had gone down. Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was after eight and he had been at this since noon.

Walking around the apartment to stretch, Wesley noticed a plain brown envelope had been slid under the door. Nothing was written on the outside and inside were three crisp $50 bills, and a folded note:

"You people from academia never develop a sense for business, do you? Everything last night was so professional on your end. First class product, but I think that the customer service skills could use some improvement. Work that out and remember to demand cash up front, and I think you have a future in this profession.

Of course, just because your last job - or should I say jobs - ended abysmally doesn't mean that your *skills* aren't appreciated. It's natural, as you wallow in the wake of misery, that you may want to pursue other career choices. I just don't understand why you're being so fussy about what kind of whore you are."

It wasn't signed. It didn't have to be. Strolling across the apartment, Wesley tossed the wad of paper on the table. For a moment he considered the therapeutic value and shear pleasure of tossing a chair through the window, but stopped himself. Someone might get hurt, and he would lose his security deposit.

Throwing himself on the couch, he tried to regain his composure. Steady, Wesley. He thought to himself. This is what she wants you to do. She wants you so pissed off that you'll act without thinking. If you play by her rules, she wins. Score a point for Lilah; it was flattering in a degrading sort of way. A brief moment of disappointment flittered through his mind that he couldn't go wave the note and cash under Cordelia's nose. When was the last time one of her acting jobs had pulled in so much?

Very well, it was his move now. Wesley put his 'great big brain' to use and reviewed the recent moves. Time to show some interest, but not cave in completely. Glancing across the room, at the ill-gotten gains on the table, Wesley smiled; at least he wouldn't starve through this.

***

As Sonny lowered Cordy's car into a space in the garage, Gun stood next to him reaching for his wallet. "Man, I don't know how to thank you. What do I owe you?"

"No problem, bro. Twenty dollars, so the boss won't cry and I won't get you for the mileage - or the fact that it was slightly illegal for me to be working that stretch of highway."

"Anything I can do for you, just name it."

"Already did. My sister had my nephew six months ago. Without you and the crew, none of us would have been there to see that."

The men exchanged knowing smiles and a handshake. After they were done saying their goodbyes, Gunn made his way up to the lobby. Since Fred was nowhere in sight, he figured she was upstairs. His foot was on the bottom step when he heard a noise come from behind the reception desk.

Grabbing a heavy figurine to use as a weapon, Gunn stepped behind the counter. Suddenly something grabbed his ankle from beneath the table, and he just stopped himself short of bashing in his girlfriend's skull with the heavy object.

Diving to the floor, "Fred, what's wrong, why are you hiding under the table?" She was shaking and started to cry. He pulled her into his arms. "Shhh, shhh, it's okay, baby, I'm here. It'll be all right. What happened? Tell me what happened."

She took a deep breath, calming herself somewhat. "Connor. Conner came in and I was going to say hi, but then I saw Justine. They didn't see me, so I ducked under the table to hide. I heard them talking." She covered her mouth as a mewling sound escaped. Gunn wrapped her more tightly in his arms and rubbed her back.

With a loud sniff, "I heard them. Justine was saying with Angel out of the way, they'd make the hotel their new headquarters. They figured the rest of us wouldn't be any trouble."

Gunn stared at her. "They killed Angel?"

"No, I don't think so, but they did something to him. Connor said something about killing being too good and that he would be imprisoned until the world ended.

"They got Angel locked up tight somewhere?"

"That's what it sounded like. Connor said that they would have to get rid of Cordelia because she was tainted - her demon DNA, no doubt -but, he thought that you and I might be redeemable. Justine wasn't convinced. She told him how loyal we were."

"Okay, so if they didn't get to Cordelia, something else happened to her. Fuck, they outnumber us too. We can't stay here. Do you know when they're coming back?"

"They said that they'd tell the others tonight and pack their stuff in the morning." Fred looked into Gunn's eyes, "I saw her grab a business card and laugh. She read the card, 'Angel Investigations, we help the hopeless.' Then she said, maybe we should change the motto to be, 'the only good demon is a dead one.'"

"Is that everything? Did they say anything else?"

Fred frowned. "Well, she did wonder what the drawing on the card was, said it looked like a hermit crab." Gunn couldn't stop himself from letting out a little laugh and Fred smiled back and then laughed with him. "That was the gist of everything they talked about."

Gunn sat back and took her hands. "Okay, baby, time for a tactical retreat. We've only got the rest of the day and tonight to move everything important. What's on the list?"

"Computer first, definitely. Weapons?"

He nodded, "Let's start with only the one's the two of us can use. We can try and get the rest later on, if we have time."

"The files and the books. I'm not good with them, but there's too much valuable stuff there." Gunn took Fred's hand and pulled her to her feet.

"Ya got that right. There's a lot of books, do you have any idea which ones to grab, because I don't think we can take them all?"

Powering down the computer, Fred started stacking disks and CD's. "Well, Wes told me which ones to grab in case of fire, but it's only about 5 of them. We'll just have to take what we can grab of the rest." She started disconnecting cables as Gunn pulled some empty boxes from a closet. Fred stopped. "Where are we going, Charles?"

Carrying the boxes into the office, Gunn shouted over his shoulder. "The only place we have left, Cordelia's apartment. We load the truck and the Jeep first. We can leave the Jeep locked outside the apartment while we come back for the second load and bring Angel's car over. No use giving them anything they can use." Returning to the desk, he took the keyboard from her hands. And, baby," he stroked her face and cupped her cheek with his hand. "The first thing you pack, before the computer, before the books, is your stuff. You are my priority and if we leave everything else behind, to take care of you, so be it."

She smiled at him through tear stained eyes.

***

Relaxing with a little jazz, in some silk lounging pajamas, Lilah was into her second scotch, perusing an Italian fashion magazine. Versaci's latest were interrupted by a knock on the door. Tossing the magazine on the table next to the half finished drink, Lilah casually went over and opened it. It was not a surprise to see Wesley there; after all, she did send the note to attract his attention. But he wasn't standing there clenching his fists with a full head of steam. He was loaded down with a big paper bag with a greasy stain in one corner that smelled like...Chinese?

"Good, your home." Wesley pushed past her without a second glance and headed into the apartment. He paused a second to get the lay of the place, and motioned with the bag. "I assume that's the kitchen?" Not waiting for a response, he headed across the living room and stepped behind the counter.

Lilah let the door make some noise as she pushed it closed. "Come in." Grabbing her scotch, she walked to the kitchen and leaned against the refrigerator. There was something pleasant and domestic about watching Wes unpack white cardboard containers and aluminum trays with flimsy plastic lids. When he started opening up the cabinet doors looking for dishes, it felt more invasive. Lilah had the odd sense that he would figure out too much about her if he knew her china pattern. She moved up beside him and quickly slammed the cabinet shut, asking, "What the hell are you doing?"

Wesley contemplated the painted nails in front of him for a moment before slowly following the path up her bare arm to look her in the eye. Casually resting his hip against the marble counter, he looked at her with a completely neutral expression. "Well, it seems I came into some money today and thought that was reason to celebrate. Taking into account all the people who are actually talking to me, I was left with a rather short list of possible dinner companions. As I figured you were the one least likely to be having any actual human contact on a Saturday night, here I am. You do have dishes for more than one person, right? I assume, if only for appearances, you host a cocktail party now and again."

Opening an oversized drawer with neatly stacked dishes, she gave him a half-smile. "Be careful with the Lenox. You're doing a bang up job being a butler - possible alternate career? But, as the hostess, I figure that it might be nice to have some control over what goes on in my apartment."

Wesley glanced up at the ceiling in thought, and saw himself two years earlier offering to be Angel's faithful servant. It gave him a bit of courage to continue this charade. "Butler. No, last time I offered to be of humble service, I was fired, probably not the best of career choices. In the meantime, you can open a bottle of something expensive - as you know I'm not a cheap date. By the way, multiple orgasms are worth at least 200."

"So, is this a date? And, if you want more than 100, I'm expecting something more than vanilla sex. The extra fifty was a tip for the multiple orgasms."

Wesley considered her response and nodded at the logic. His obvious sarcasm was dripping with polite sincerity. "Date is probably too strong word. I couldn't make up my mind about whether I wanted to have sex with you again or strangle you. I figured I might as well come over while I made up my mind, and why starve?" He gestured impatiently with hands full of food and dishes for Lilah to move out of his way. "Wine?"

Heading into the dining room, Lilah began inspecting the wine rack. "Why not. It's not everyday that a guy stops by and offers to do you or *do you*. Light red? Maybe a zinfindel?"

"Uhm, it's shrimp with lobster sauce and kung-pao chicken, so how about a Chardonnay. There's no vegetarian. I assumed that you have no compunctions about killing living things for your own survival."

"Not a problem; I eat meat," she replied adopting his lighthearted mood. Wesley raised both eyebrows and looked at her enquiringly. Catching her mistake, she gave him a wide grin. "It'll take a whole hell of a lot more than take out Chinese." Handing him the corkscrew and bottle, she went back into the kitchen. Fussing beneath the counter, she placed two crystal glasses and some linen napkins on the breakfast bar. "Silver or chopsticks?"

Wesley nodded appreciatively at the wine selection and began to open it. "Chopsticks are fine with me; some serving spoons would be nice." The room resounded with the gentle pop of the cork and sound of wine flowing. Returning to the dining room, Lilah moved to the counter and started transferring the remaining dishes to the table. Turning around with a handful of spoons, she was face to face with Wesley, who had quietly come up beside her. The involuntary gasp that escaped her throat was greeted by a slight smirk. Score one for Wesley.

He stepped back, politely pulling her chair out. While he seated her, Wesley leaned in more closely than was strictly appropriate for his gentlemanly gesture and slowly dragged a fingertip along the thin silk covering her right thigh and spoke quietly in her ear. "It begs the question, you know. If vanilla is not your favorite flavor, what is?" He kept an eye on Lilah holding her breath, fighting her body's reaction, as he went around the table, to take his seat.

Lilah didn't look up at him while she distributed the spoons amongst the bowls and began putting some rice on her plate. "Now where's the mystery in just telling you? You'll just have to guess. After all, you said it could be sex or death, so, like Scheherazade, I think I'll entertain you with speculating." He toasted her with his wine, before he began eating.

It was his move; they both knew it. Wesley opted to keep the tension up and not say anything, other than table pleasantries, during the course of dinner. "Please pass the soy sauce."

"Would you care for more shrimp?" Lilah replied in kind not letting her anticipation show every time he opened his mouth. Halfway through the meal, Lilah caved in. "So, are you opting for the profession of high priced call boy, or have you considered the other job offer on the table?"

"As you pointed out, there isn't a tremendous amount of difference, only the amount of clothing one seems to wear." He contemplated a shrimp held neatly clenched in his chopsticks and continued, "Although, I have given some consideration to the more practical aspects of employment. You see, there were some...less than pleasant aspects to my last job. Things like being bombed, beaten, shot and tortured come to mind. While the job you describe seems more sedentary in appearance, one has to wonder about such things as blood sacrifices, loss of limbs, enslavement to various and sundry demons, not to mention backstabbing co-workers."

Lilah nodded as she washed down the spicy chicken dish with some wine. "Valid questions. What if I could promise you that the largest hazard you'd face in the office was the terrible coffee?"

He chuckled. "I've had Cordelia's coffee. I don't think any coffee, even that inspired by evil, could be a greater trauma. But, I wouldn't believe that was the biggest hazard."

She smiled widely at him, "That's why I like you. You are smart. But I dare say that even with your concerns, there would be fewer hazards involved than associating with a certain vampire with a soul. I believe that artwork on your chest was the result of a certain slayer attempting to get *Angel's* attention."

Wesley suspected that he would snap his chopstick in half if he continued to hold it. Slowly and deliberately, he carefully placed it on the top of his plate. Score one for Lilah. "A certain part of what you say is true; however, there was also a good deal of personal vendetta in Faith's selection of me as her victim."

"I'm impressed. You actually said her name without grimacing. White knight that you are, you've probably forgiven her for all that, haven't you? Feel bad about her spending the best years of her life in orange coveralls? Tell me, do you want a third chance at her? Wolfram and Hart have never taken much interest in the slayer, but having one would certainly be a coup. We could arrange to get her out of prison. You could do what you were trained to do, be a Watcher without all the fuss of having to answer to the Council." She watched him innocently as she continued to eat.

Wesley hadn't been prepared to discuss Faith. His own emotions towards the rogue slayer were mixed at best. It was an intriguing offer. He wasn't sure if he could get through to Faith or if she'd just kill him, but something in Wesley wouldn't mind trying one day. He realized too late that his face must have telegraphed his interest straight to his dinner companion. Lilah takes another point. "What makes you think that anyone could control Faith?"

"I've met the psychotic little bitch. I don't think it can be done, but I'd really enjoy watching you try. I asked, because I wanted to know if you thought you could. You don't have to talk about it anymore; I got my answer."

Wesley finished his wine, hoping it covered the red flush that must be rising to his face. "So, do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" It was simply meant as a quick response to cover his own embarrassment at her question, but something changed in Lilah's face when he mentioned her mother. It appeared he had found her weak spot.

"The way I hear it, daddy dearest isn't all that pleased with you, so why don't we just leave parents out of this, hmm?"

Definitely a weak spot. "I've been well aware of my father's opinions since I was able to walk. There really is very little at this point that could be said to top what I already know. What is it with your parents? Is it lack of spouse and grandchildren? I get that one at least twice a year. Or is it that you work for the wrong side. Even though I've been busting my arse, or having it busted as the case may be, for the betterment of mankind, I often get that argument." He could see the struggle in her face, the desire to lash out at him and the need to play it cool.

"Cinnamon is my favorite flavor."

He squinted for a moment trying to decipher what that had to do with her mother. Realization dawned. Lilah was awarding him the point, hoping that by changing the topic to sex it would distract him. Wesley decided not to push; there was time to find out about mummy dearest. In his best lecturing voice, "Cinnamon, sometimes hot, often served with sweet things. In small quantities it's distinctive and undeniably sensual. In large quantities, it can burn." Planting both elbows on the table he leaned towards her, allowing his tone to become a little deeper, "It's rather a two-edged sword and it's not really a guess to say you like it hot and dangerous."

Mimicking his movements, their faces were close together and they were looking each other in the eyes. "That's right, but I'll bet you're more familiar with sticky sweet. Is that how they like it in Texas?"

"Actually, I never had the chance to find out, and you personally had a hand in that."

"Really? I wasn't aware that I cared."

"You see, I had the misfortune of coming in contact with Billy Blim's blood. In the end, I'm the one who ended up with a concussion, but you'd be amazed at how attempted rape and murder do not go towards furthering a relationship. But I hear that you know first hand about Billy's influence." He glared at her. She wasn't the only one who wanted answers. "Who was it, a random janitor or someone you knew? I won't assume that it was someone you were close to, since there is no one."

Wesley saw something savage rise into Lilah's eyes. Anger rolled in waves off her face, which was tinted red with the rising emotion. "Gavin Parks. Told me to shut up because I talked too much. Billy may have been the source, but Gavin is going to pay one day for the joy he took in that act. It is rather ironic, to ultimately be attacked by someone you went to so much effort to save. Is that how it felt to you, when Angel tried to smother you with the pillow." Her tone was lacking its earlier playfulness.

"Well, it's nice to know we've identified each other's nerves, both the pleasurable ones and the painful ones. So, do you want to move off the painful ones or perhaps, I should just go?" Leaning back, Wesley neatly folded his napkin and laid it along side the plate.

Lilah gave him a very unconvincing hurt little girl look. "You haven't even guessed what the cinnamon is all about." Slowly she rose from her chair and circled the table like some predator stalking a rabbit. Wesley slid his chair back, keeping a careful eye on her.

Wine colored nails traced the healing scar on his throat and trailed down his chest. Wesley was working very hard at remaining immobile. He fancied that the disinterested look that he was attempting to maintain was very convincing. Well, that was until she scratched a swollen nipple through the fabric of his shirt and it became a rock. As much as he hoped otherwise, the involuntary shudder did not go unnoticed. "So, Wes, some parts of you under all these clothes want to be here." Lilah's lips were very close, but not touching his ear - it was maddening. "Give a girl some encouragement. Take off you shirt." There was an immediate drop in temperature as she backed off a step, waiting to see if he would comply. He did.

"Very good. Bet you're very good at following orders. Talons tickled flesh and played with the thin layer of hair on his chest, down his stomach. Their pressure increased minutely as they raked his trousers, over his increasingly harder erection. Wesley decided that he still had far too many clothes on, and didn't hesitate when she demanded he remove his pants. Naked, he sat back down in the chair - after all, she hadn't ordered him to do otherwise.

Cool silk teased his body from chest to thighs as she straddled him, seductively swaying in a maneuver designed to drive him crazy. It was working. The razor like claws continued their dance on the back of his neck while her lips and tongue teased his right ear. Lilah chucked into that ear as a groan escaped him.

Slowly, Wesley pushed her back. Confidence was written all over her face, and he rewarded it by taking a mouthful of white silk, and with it her breast. His tongue worked at the material until the nipple underneath was suitably hard enough for nibbling. Reaching around her waist, Wesley pulled her down so that there was intimate contact between his cock and the silk covering her crotch. Relentless nails sifted through his hair. Without stopping his other activities, he took hold of her left hand, bringing it down, down and gently around her back.

Wesley wondered what she noticed first, the cold steel of the handcuff on her wrist or the sound of it closing tight. "What the- " she jumped back and would have thrown herself into the table if he hadn't had such a tight grip on her wrist and waist.

"You didn't see me stash them beneath the napkin? Lilah, you know the rules: keep a close eye on your friends and an even closer eye on your enemies." Her look was incredulous and the struggle to capture her other hand was brief. Wesley suspected that she was contemplating a head butt, but he cut off any retaliation by attacking her breast with a willing mouth, one hand massaging her ass as the other slid between their bodies on its quest forward to the wet silk between her legs. Looking up for a moment, he smiled politely. "So, did I guess right, about the cinnamon? I could leave if I've offended you."

Writhing and gasping for breath, any response Lilah may have made was cut off by his fingers reaching the swollen nub between her legs. Leering at him, Lilah whispered, "Just remember, I get a turn at this someday soon." His blunt nails sent shivers up her spine as he grabbed her by the back of the neck forcing her into a rough kiss. Lifted them both from the chair, Wesley headed towards the bedroom.

* * *