Wesley always feels an odd mixture of shame and pride after sex. He wipes sweat from his brow and exhales deeply, trying to get some oxygen back into his bloodstream.
“Quite a ride”, says Faith graciously, slapping his thigh. She’s getting up already, looking for her knickers, and throwing Wesley’s clothes around in the process. “I’m starving, we gotta order something . Pizza? I hope you got cash, ‘cause I’m totally broke.”
She has the cheek to actually reach for his wallet and pull out a twenty before he reacts.
“Put that down, Faith. I don’t have time to spare, I need to get back to work.”
“That’s very serious for a guy whose dick is hanging out.” He hastily covers himself with the sheets. Faith throws the twenty onto his chest. “In that case I’m gonna raid your fridge. Just sayin’.”
“I said no, Faith. I mean it.” And he sounds mean, too, oh, he does.
Faith looks at him and for a moment she seems genuinely hurt by his rejection. Then the glint in her eyes turns from offended to dangerous, and he knows she’s recognized this as part of their game.
“Lie the fuck down”, she barks at him. A shiver runs down his spine, but he doesn’t budge; just stares at her, propped on his elbow, with a look on his face that he considers haughty. It works, because she shoves him hard , shakes her finger at him and pats him once on the cheek. “Be right back. Don’t move.”
Wesley lies flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. He flexes his fingers and toes (that he can get away with), and patiently waits for the fear to turn into excitement. She never hurts him, not really; a few bruises, some scratches on his shoulders and back. Lilah used to do worse (it’s both inevitable and horribly inappropriate to think about her now). But the threat is imminent: Faith could break him in two, crush his windpipe with the heel of her hand, beat him to a bloody pulp, but she doesn’t. She’s reformed. Wesley isn’t.
Judging from the sounds coming from the kitchen, Faith has lit a cigarette and is now rummaging around in the refrigerator, muttering under her breath. When she saunters back into the bedroom, she smells of smoke and has her hands on her hips. He keeps his eyes trained on her face.
“I can see you’re very well-behaved, Wesley.”
“You wouldn’t say that if you knew what I was thinking”, he says, his voice rough.
“Yeah? And what is that?” She straddles him and he struggles to keep his breathing under control. He’s certain she knows what kind of memories this revives. “Do you have something to tell me, Watcher-man?”
“Yes. It’s about what I would like to do to you.”
She puts her hand over her left breast, on her heart. “You have my complete, undivided attention.”
“It’s so indecent I don’t think I can say it out loud.”
“Ever the gentleman”, she says, her eyes flashing. “Are you gonna whisper it in my ear?”
He nods and she leans in close, expectant and a little curious. Her hair tickles his face and the scratches on his shoulder. He clenches his jaw and drags her closer to him with his hand on the nape of her neck; Faith arches her back like a cat that dislikes being petted.
“I’d like to hurt you”, he says through gritted teeth. “I swear, sometimes I’d just love to make you hurt.”
“Oh, boss”, she drawls, exasperated and strangely honest, “you think you don’t?”