Title: Upon The Edge Of No Escape
Author: Beer Good
Fandom: Angel, 1.18 "Five By Five"
Word Count: ~1300
Warnings: Dubcon, roughness, breathplay, suicidal thoughts, hinted-at past abuse... It's Faith "safety words are for wusses" Lehane in "Five By Five", she's not in a healthy place.
Summary: Lilah and Faith seal the deal to kill Angel. Only one way out now.
You're never alone with a Smith & Wesson, baby!
- Radio Birdman
Upon The Edge Of No Escape
She'll say this for Wolfram & Hart: they don't skimp on the gravy. The hotel room Lilah puts her up in isn't quite the swankiest she's ever been in, but definitely a few dozen steps up from anything she's ever paid cash for. Big window overlooking the city, nice double bed (not that she's slept in days), big-screen TV. No Playstation, but hey. She's not sure she's going to spend a lot of time here, she's already taken a shine to the pimp's apartment, but no need to tell them that.
Lilah watches her as she takes it in. "Good enough?"
"Pretty sweet. Remind me to kill more people for ya."
"Well, we like to make our associates feel like they can always trust -"
"Yeah, sure." Wrong conversation. She walks over to Lilah, giving her a once-over. Gotta hand it to her: when she picked Faith up at the club earlier, she really sold the Curious Yuppie Playing With Fire act at first, 99% cocksure control over 1% scared shitless. Had to, to catch Faith's eye in that crowd; not like she didn't have other options. But Lilah had walked into that club like she owned everyone in it, and for some reason, Faith really needs to put a chink in that armor. "So, you do this a lot? Pick up young impressionable girls, give them a place to stay, make them go 'Oh, ma'm, how can I ever repay you...?'"
"Apart from killing Angel?" Lilah's smile tilts to the side, ignoring the first half of the question as she gives Faith an appraising look, then reaches out to stroke her shoulder. "You tell me. I seem to recall promising you you'd be happy with our performance...?"
That's better, this is familiar ground. No bullshit about wanting to help her and not being interested in her that way, no IOUs and empty promises, no fancy words (remunewhateverthefuck), just tit for tat. Speaking of which, let's lose that jacket. She yanks it down over Lilah's arms and backs her up against the window, hard enough to feel it give slightly, just a thin sheet of glass stopping them from hurtling ten floors down. Lilah flinches. Good. She wanted a Slayer? Let's see if she can handle one. "Just try and stop me." One finger popping the buttons off that expensive blouse like opening a letter, following the trace with her tongue, Lilah's breath catching as they come face to face. "This what you wanted?" Nod. "Good." That smirk again. Kisses it off, slips one hand under her skirt (wet silk, seems her lawyer's got a kink for danger), gives a squeeze, shifts and lifts her one-handed ("Mmmmf!") They hit the floor hard, Faith on top, Lilah's head hitting the thick carpet and the designer purse in her hand landing with a gunheavy THUD; Faith guesses snubnose .38, she seems like the get-shit-done type.
She goes down and rips Lilah's panties out of the way, pretending not to notice when Lilah works her arms free and checks that the purse is within reach. Can't blame her, they didn't hire Faith for her people skills. Not that Lilah would have time to get to it, Faith is pretty sure that even with her face buried in lawyer pussy she could still kill her in about 20 different ways. Not that she would, probably, but you never know. Would make a good warm-up for tomorrow. Get the blood and adrenaline running, better than sleep any day.
(She's killing Angel tomorrow. Slaying. She's slaying Angel tomorrow, that's what she's supposed to do, and he won't be able to touch her again, won't be able to get those chains on her again, won't - )
Probably not a good time for Lilah to grab her head, urging her on, as if she thought she was the one in control here, as if she's forgotten what she's fucking. "Uh-uh." The Slayer is up on top of her in a second, pinning her arms above her head with one hand, grabbing her face with the other. "Remember what I did to your boy earlier?"
Lilah laughs; she almost sounds confident. "I meant to thank you for that."
"Thank me later." Lilah gasps when Faith reaches down under her skirt, but doesn't tell her to stop. Faith's good at two things, this is one of them. Whichever it is.
(The thought of Buffy squirming in pain under her, of raining blows down on that sanctimonious face. Knowing how she'll hurt once Angel's so much dust. Pain so sweet Faith can almost feel it herself.)
At some point, she lets Lilah wrench her hands free. Turns out she knows how to use them. Faith considers kicking the purse away, but lets it lie - kink for danger, right? Might as well up the ante. She buries her face in Lilah's neck, pinning her down, sliding her teeth along her jugular, then clamps a hand around her throat as she kisses her, grinds into her. Not choking, not really, just letting her know there'd be absolutely nothing Lilah could do about it if she did. She might be a bigshot in her office, but Faith's the one with the power now.
(People are so very easy to kill. Go too hard on them and they just shut off.)
Squeezes a little bit to make sure she gets the point, feels the woman tense up under her, instinctively fighting to breathe as she pushes up against Faith's thigh. "Don't stop," she warns, and Lilah doesn't; well-manicured fingers thrusting deeper. Faith laps up the fear and excitement in Lilah's eyes, dares her (out loud? not sure) to do something about it, wonders if she realises what a Slayer is yet, how close she is to chickening out. Closes her eyes and imagines how it'd go down; Lilah freaking, pulling the purse towards her, unsnapping the latch, grabbing the gun. She'd have a second to stop her, maybe less, if she even heard the click of the hammer, maybe a second starting half a second ago. "Don't stop." She's riding the bloodbuzz now, letting her hands think for her; she's a Slayer, she's killing Angel tomorrow, no one can touch her, she's a fucking Slayer, don't stop, she kills things, she
sobs snarls in Lilah's ear, eyes squeezed shut, the hair on her neck standing on end as she waits for the bang, that's what she does, she kills people, she stops things, maybe half a second, killing Angel tomorrow, free tomorrow, stop anything, stop stop STOP IT...
(The gun going off, the bullet in slow motion, a hole right through her head, scattering her brains, done...)
When she opens her eyes, Lilah is brushing off her jacket, skirt in place, hair businesslike again. "So, I hope everything's clear?"
"Crystal," Faith mumbles, picking herself up off the floor.
"Great. We'll be in touch with your payment after it's done." Lilah's legs wobble just ever so slightly when she gets to her feet. Once again taller than Faith, that smirk back in place, 99% in control again.
"Um, how do I let you know - "
"Don't worry, we'll know. Oh, if you want room service, just charge it to the room. And I'm supposed to give you this." She opens the purse, safe in her armor once again, and hands Faith the gun. "You never know when you might need one."
"It's been really nice working with you, Faith. Let's do lunch when you're done."
After the shower, Faith puts on a ridiculously fluffy white bathrobe and sits down at the window. Bleary-eyed, she looks out over LA, absent-mindedly twirling the gun on the table next to her. In a few hours, she'll kill Angel. Then she'll finally get to rest.