Adult-FanFiction.org : Buffy

Needed	By : abra Category: Angel the Series > Het - Male/Female > Faith/Wesley Views: 1835 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own AtS, nor make any money from this story.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
- 14
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or the setting of the story. All things I borrowed from the Buffyverse are a creation of and belong to Joss Whedon.
Timeline: more than 9years after NFA ("Angel"), 10 after "Chosen" (BtVS)
Beta: Rachael, thank you

Feedback: please, review!

Chapter 13

Wesley woke up feeling rested and thoroughly dirty. The blood he had so liberally shed the previous day had dried on his clothes and on his skin. The wounds were turning to new scars that were itching. He needed to shower very, very badly.
As soon as he got into the bathroom, he pulled off his clothes letting them fall in a pile on the floor. He let the warm water work its magic on his battered body. The wounds had fortunately closed, but they were hurting as much as the many bruises. He smiled at the memory of his friends kicking him when he was down. The smile faded as he began to wonder where they were, or if they were still alive.
He let his mind drift beginning to soap himself. Out of all the memories of his recent and his distant past, the one person that appeared most often was Faith. And out of all his memories of her, there was one stolen glance that had accompanied him throughout the years. He'd always treasured that image, his dirty little secret, his solace in lonely nights, the fantasy he painted over the casual liaisons. When Faith was seventeen, and in his care, he had accidentally entered the locker room where she was changing her clothes after one of their few training sessions. In his defense, it had been the boys' locker room. The part he could not defend, not even to himself, was that he had stayed hidden and watched her.
He started stroking himself as the fantasy began playing again on the screen behind his eyelids. Soon, the teenaged Faith was replaced by the woman who had kissed him two nights earlier. His hand froze on his cock when he realized what he was doing. Thinking of his young Slayer had been, shady as it was, sort of routine. He had thought of the idealized Faith as one would think of a pin up model. This time, it was a real, flesh and blood woman he was fantasizing about. The kiss he had just played in his mind had actually happened. The mere memory of the way her mouth had felt against his caused him to grow harder.
Wesley squeezed his eyes tighter and resumed stroking himself. He let his mind unfold an alternative scenario of what happened the other night.
His hand slid over the silk of her night robe, then over her silky skin. He dared go further up her inner thigh, all the way up, between her legs. She wasn't wearing any underwear. His fingers touched the smooth skin delicately, dipped into the wetness eagerly.
"Spread", he whispered aloud. The word resonated strangely in the empty bathroom.
Fantasy Faith was sitting on the edge of his bed. She spread her legs, allowing him room to maneuver. She was panting along with him, her little moans spurring him on to bolder and bolder touches.
"Come up here, Faith," he told her, shoving the tented sheet aside. He was hard and ready for her.
Fantasy Faith obeyed him without a word. Wesley gripped his cock harder imagining Faith impaling herself on him. She began moving up and down his hardness, slowly at first, then faster, and faster. Different faces superimposed briefly over Faith's, like a fast slide show. Buffy, Fred, Virginia, Dawn, Lilah. They all faded, leaving only, always Faith. It's her face he saw while on the rapids of the first orgasm he had in a very long time.
"God, Faith!" he rasped spraying the bathroom wall forcefully.
He was still shaking while he finished his shower. He rinsed the vestiges of his orgasm off the bathroom wall before he got out.
When he arrived in the kitchen, he could barely bring himself to meet Faith's gaze. The shock, however, came from Spike. The vampire was grinning mischievously. When he gave Wesley a wink the Watcher turned a delicate shade of purple. Could Spike somehow still smell what he had just done, even after the shower? Did he hear him? God! If he heard, he must have heard him groan Faith's name as he came.
Wesley grabbed a cup of coffee and started piling up food on his plate. He was eating while his mind began to shift into gear. He could understand thinking about Faith as he wanked off. God forgive him, but he'd done it before, when he had been too drunk, or too lonely to keep that particular fantasy behind the iron bars of his will. He could sort of understand the succession of flashes of the women in his past. He didn't like to admit it, but he'd occasionally fantasized about Buffy Summers. No way near as often or as intensely as he had done about Faith, but it had happened. Embarrassing, but explainable. The image he could not understand was that of Dawn Summers. She was about twelve in his fading fake memories, but the woman he'd briefly seen in his fantasy had been older. He had seen her like that only once. Yesterday, in the cave. Spike's last obstacle! His greatest weakness.
Wesley looked again at the vampire. This time, there was no embarrassment in his gaze. Only inquiry. What exactly did it mean that he and Faith had given him part of their souls?
~~~~~~~~~~
Later that day, Wesley said his goodbyes to the young Slayers, noting with surprise that they had been almost as emotional as they were with Spike.
He retired in the main office and started researching the spell Faith and Spike had used to bring him back. He went straight for the very thick "W.W.-Pryce" file. Sure enough, the information was there. He removed the pages concerning the spell. With the papers in his hand he started perusing the library. He pulled out one by one all the books that he thought had anything to do with the spell.
For several hours, he was engulfed by his new quest. His feelings for Faith since his resurrection had grown more and more intense with every passing day. They had culminated with this morning's shower. But Faith's revelation on his "dying bed" put everything in a new light. He had to know if what he felt was nothing more than a reflection of her relationship with Spike. The chemistry between them seemed to go beyond sexual attraction, even beyond the mystical bond they shared.
As it turned out, the spell wasn�t all that complex. Its consequences, however, were rather immutable. He took off his glasses and started pacing around the office. He had to do something. He couldn't allow Faith and Spike to continue this sacrifice for him. Spike had gotten his soul back somehow. He'd be the one to ask.
He looked out the window. It was night already. When had he turned on the lights? He left the office in search of Spike.
The building seemed empty. No pitter-patter of little feet. Wesley sighed. He missed Alex. He wished he had had more time with the child. The closest thing he had to a son. He wondered if Faith was ever going to tell the boy about his almost-involvement in his conception. He realized with a sad smile that he wished she would. The thought went further on the idyllic path. Maybe they could give Alex a brother or a sister. He shook his head. No daydreaming for Wesley. He shouldn't lull himself into believing that Faith could feel something for the real him. Who knew how the darkness-created-Wesley had kept her tethered to him for all those years?
He couldn't find anyone around. The kitchen, the training area, the yard were all deserted. He made his way upstairs dreading the possibility that he might walk in of Faith and Spike.
A light came from beneath Faith's door. He knocked diffidently. She opened the door almost instantly.
"Oh, Wes," she said taken aback. "What�s up? Come on in."
He followed her, happy to notice that her room retained no traces of the night she had been hurt. There was nothing vulnerable about the beautiful young woman in front of him.
"Nothing's up. I was just wondering where everyone was."
"Spike's on patrol. And I'm here," she informed him with half a curtsy.
The gesture reminded him of the days when she called him Princess Margaret.
"How's Alex?" he asked, finding no better topic.
"I talked to him an hour ago. He said he's having a good time. Xander said he's behaving himself."
Faith's face had lit from inside talking about her son. Wesley felt like he was basking in her smile.
"He's a great kid," he said.
"Yeah," she said looking at him.
"I'll leave you to... whatever it was you were doing," he said heading for the door again.
"There's something I have to tell you. Don't turn around, or I won't be able to go through with it," she said behind him.
Wesley stood, rooted to the spot. He was watching the door intently, waiting for her to speak again.
"I loved him. I know you're not him. Or he wasn't you. The thing is... I think I love you."
They both remained silent for a long time. Wesley tried to get under control the storm of feelings her declaration stirred inside him.
"I need to leave for a while," he said.
He didn't need to hear her sharp intake of breath to know he said something extremely stupid.
"I didn't mean," he turned around, trying to explain.
"That's all right," she said.
Her voice and her countenance were both cool and collected.
"Let me explain," he pleaded.
"Nothing to explain. You're a free agent. You can do whatever you want."
Her distant tone, and her casual words set him off. He grabbed her shoulders and pinned her to a wall. She cocked an eyebrow at him, reminding him that she could snap his arms like twigs. He seemed oblivious to the danger. His fingers were digging painfully into her flesh.
"But I don't know what I want, do I, Faith? Because I'M NOT REAL!" he yelled at her, the pressure of the last few days cracking his composure.
The raw emotion on her face told him he struck a nerve. Utmost among the kaleidoscope of feelings, Wesley saw fear. Her fear emboldened him. He could still get to her, touch her, cut her. Faith looking vulnerable was a greater turn on than he had ever imagined all those times he had imagined her in charge in bed. He felt like a shark who had just sensed blood in the water.
He kissed her, hard, not caring if he bruised her. All the cockiness had gone out of her, and this only increased his desire. She moaned faintly, and surrendered to the kiss. Before he was even aware of what he was doing, he had torn open Faith's shirt. He lowered his mouth to her breasts. The need to bite her, brand her somehow became desperate. Vampire, his brain whispered, making him pull back.
The sight of Faith, bare breasted, glassy eyed and panting made him insane with lust. He gathered forgotten shreds of his self control to take a step back.
"See what I mean?" he asked.
Faith was looking at him, incomprehensibly. He tried to clear his mind.
"I've never felt this way before. Never. About anyone. I feel like I'm burning. This isn't me. This is you and Spike. I'm made up of your souls. I don't know what's real anymore. Do I want you like that? Or is it just the part of Spike's soul that he's given me. I have to go and get back my soul. I want to give you your souls back."
"Go where?" she asked in a whisper.
The sound of her voice kicked hard at Wesley's libido. He clenched his jaws, refusing to succumb to the tidal wave of lust.
"Wherever I have to. Spike managed to get his."
"It's dangerous," she said.
Wesley shrugged. He'd do the right thing, no matter how dangerous. He needed to know if he was real. If what he was feeling was real.
"Did you talk to Spike about this?"
"Not yet. I'm going to ask him when he gets back. He wasn't very forthcoming with information on this subject when he made his appearance at Wolfram and Hart."
"He's not forthcoming on the subject period."
"I daresay he'll talk to me now."
Faith was looking at him with deep sorrow.
"You don't think I can succeed, do you?" he asked, a little hurt.
"It's not that. I never thought about all the consequences of you sharing our souls. I'm wondering if you'll feel the same when you get your soul back."
"Worried if I'll feel the same, or if you will?" he asked tensely.
Wesley was nearing the breaking point of his control. Since Faith had kissed him he felt like she had lit the fuse to his lust.
"You're free, Wes. Truly. We brought you to life because we needed you. You shouldn't feel obligated to even like me."
"I like you," he said, stepping close to her again.
His eyes were darkened with a desire he seemed unable to control. Faith held his gaze unflinchingly. He leaned over to her. He brushed his lips against hers.
"I'm not going to take what you're not willing to give me," she whispered.
Wesley pushed his whole body into hers. He put her hand over the bulging front of his trousers.
"Willing. Able. Eager," he said, nibbling at her lower lip.
She parted her lips for him. His tongue snuck into her mouth at the same time as her hand began rubbing him over the fabric. Wesley fisted a hand in her hair, angling her head for better access to her mouth. His other hand cupped her breast. He was rolling a nipple between thumb and forefinger until she arched into him. When she did, he thrust into her palm.
"You'll regret doing this," she said, breathing heavily.
"I'll die if I don't," he told her.
He stripped every piece of clothing off her body, getting harder with every inch of skin he uncovered, and kissed. He was aware that once he had his soul back, he might not feel the same about her, he might regret yielding to temptation. It didn't stop him. He had never felt such all-consuming lust.

~~~~~~~~~~
To be continued...
- 12
- 13
- 14
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