Selling a Soul

Home : Stories by Author : Stories by Laure Alexander : Selling a Soul

Summary: Wesley/Fred does nothing for me, but Wesley/Illyria? Just had to write a fic about her discovering just what all the fuss is about sex.

AUTHOR: Laure Alexander
EMAIL: lara@sunflower.com
RATING: NC-17, bondage.
PAIRINGS: Wesley/Illyria
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or any of the characters on the show. Joss Whedon and the WB Network own them (for now). No copyright infringement intended, so please don't sue.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: My place in hell is cemented now. *g* Dedicated to Indie who said she'd love me forever if I wrote Illyria/Wes fic. So, I did. Pretty much smut with a bit of plot.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He watched her from hooded eyes. Watched as the leather flowed from her body to reform draped across a chair, leaving her nude, her skin tinged with blue and gold. She lay upon his bed in an unconsciously sensuous pose, one knee raised and tilted inward, back slightly arched, head cocked, arms raised with fingers wrapped gently around the chains.

She'd agreed to his conditions--the spelled bindings, the protection wards--because she was curious. She'd come to him bothered by residual memories from her shell...from Fred. The last thoughts in her dying mind had been about him, making love with him.

Illyria didn't comprehend love, didn't know sex, but she wanted to be whole, and to do so, she needed to understand it all.

Desperate for anything to allow him to face another day, Wesley was willing to help her.

She believed it was because she was now Fred, but he knew better. The shell had never mattered and all he'd loved was lost. He was helping Illyria only because he needed to fill the empty moments between work and sleep or he knew he'd step even farther over the line between sanity and madness.

Illyria turned her head quickly, her eyes seeking his. He nostrils flared and she slid her gaze down his body. He was dressed only in a pair of jeans, a prominent bulge behind the zipper.

"You want me?" she murmured, her voice oddly arousing in its lilting yet stilted tones.

"You're beautiful."

"And is that what makes human males desire human females? Beauty?"

"Part of it."

She glanced down at her breasts, her flat stomach, the dark curls between her legs. "These bodies were made to fit together, but it helps if they are pleasing to the eye."

"Yes."

"Then fit us together."

Wesley's eyes narrowed at her command and he crossed his arms over his chest. "You agreed that I would be in control."

"And so you are." She rattled the chains. "I cannot free myself. My body is receptive. It heats, dampens." Her eyes focused on his groin. "You are prepared for me."

"There's more than just the physical joining of two bodies."

At that, she gave him an inquisitive look, and said, "Then, show me."

Wesley paused for a moment, then mentally shrugged his shoulders and unfastened his jeans. Sliding them down his legs, he stepped out of the pile of denim. Glancing back at her, he saw no real expression on her face, but her eyes were locked on his groin, and he felt himself harden more and begin to ache. It had been a long time--a very long time and a bit hazy--since anything but his own hand had encircled him, and he was ready for her. He knew he could simply slip inside, pump and come, finding and seeking the pure release of simple sexual contact from using her as little more than a blow-up doll.

But, she'd learn nothing from that, and he'd agreed to teach her.

He walked to the bed and sank down on one knee beside her as she twisted slightly to one hip to eye him better.

"Will we procreate?" she asked out of the blue, startling him.

"Um, no. I don't think that's possible. Your internal organs and body chemistry are..." he started to stammer as the memories of Fred disappearing in his arms returned full force, but he shoved them painfully aside. "No, we're not compatible that way." With one hand he cupped a breast and rubbed his thumb over the erect nipple. He heard her draw in a breath and saw the curiosity fill her eyes.

"That is pleasurable. Do it again."

Wesley obeyed, and Illyria hissed this time as he flicked a finger against the nipple. Her eyes darkened and she moved restlessly on the bed.

"Pain is a part of this?"

"Pain is a part of everything. It can be used, like a tool, to increase pleasure." As he spoke, his fingers closed around the nubbin and began to squeeze. "If one knows how to use it properly." As she arched into his hand, he lowered his head and captured the other nipple between his lips, working it against his teeth until it was a hard button. His tongue lashed out, tasting her flesh. She was free of sweat and her skin tasted old like antique vellum. It wasn't unpleasant.

"I ache between my legs, an emptiness that needs filling. Do so."

Wesley nearly smiled at her demands, but ignored them for the moment, continuing to suckle and fondle her nipples until she was squirming and growling at him. Her knee rose to rub against his hip and he felt lust slide hotly through him. His cock throbbed and he wrapped his free hand around the base, forcing himself to remain in control. Illyria continued to make demands between grunts and growls of growing pleasure, and finally he lifted his head and looked into her swirling eyes.

"You're lucky I like bossy women." Rising to his knees, Wesley grabbed her nearest leg and swung it around him as he moved between her thighs. Illyria watched him, curiosity evident, as he lifted her hips onto his knees and guided his cock to her entrance.

As the tip of his cock touched her warm, wet flesh, he felt a pang of loss and sorrow so deep that he nearly went limp, but he forced himself to look at her, accept that she wasn't Fred, and slide into her. Here her internal structure was the same and she caressed him like a velvet glove, making him grunt and shudder.

"Like a lock and key," Illyria murmured, shifting her hips slightly and wrapping her legs around his back. "Your staff rubs against something, something that makes me burn." As he pulled back and thrust again, she arched her back, driving him deeper. "Oh."

As he leaned down to brace himself on his elbows, Wesley noted the obvious pleasure on her face at the changing of the angle of their bodies. He pumped his hips quickly and heard her moan. A hard slam of his pelvis against hers made Illyria cry out in surprise, and he heard the rattle of chains as she tugged on them. Dipping his head, he found her throat with his teeth, nipping at the smooth skin. There was a rapid pulse there, different from a human's, but he believed it was a sign of her enjoyment. He knew the heels thumping against his back were.

"What is this called?" she asked, her voice higher pitched then normal.

He licked his way to her ear and replied, "Fucking."

"Fucking...Yes, I like it. Fuck me, human."

"Wesley," he grunted.

"Wesley," she responded, arching her back and rubbing her nipples against his chest.

Increasing the pace as his balls tightened and his cock began to ache, Wesley lifted his head and stared down into her eyes. There was emotion there now--need, lust, hunger. It was primal.

She was primal.

With a growl, he flung his head back and thrust hard, driving their bodies together as he stared blankly at the ceiling. He felt her muscles clench around him, felt her legs stiffen and then begin to shake, and heard her scream, a sound of pure satisfaction as she came. With a groan of his own, he let her orgasm trigger his and spilled himself into her in hard, shallow thrusts of his cock. Head falling forward, he panted harshly as release trembled through him.

Pure, simple release with no emotion. He knew it would leave him empty eventually, but right now he wouldn't think of that.

"What happened to me?" Illyria demanded breathlessly.

"That was an orgasm. The best thing about sex."

"No wonder humans have spread across this planet like ants."

Unable to contain a snicker at her comment, Wesley looked away from her as he pulled out of her, a cold smile on his lips. Rising from the bed, he stretched languidly, then padded to the bathroom.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm for a hot shower."

"What about me?" and her voice became surprisingly petulant.

At the doorway, Wesley turned and looked back at her, his face emotionless, his eyes hard and empty. He could feel an oddly familiar chill settling in his bones. "What about you?" he replied cooly.

Illyria rattled the chains again, lifting her torso off the bed to glare at him. "Will you leave me chained?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I'll get to you eventually, I'm sure."

"Is this how a lover behaves?"

"This is how a man who has no feeling for his bedmate behaves. It's called being a cold bastard."

He saw her eyes narrow and then, after a long moment, a flicker of what might be considered a smile settled over her lips as she lay back down on the pillows. "Perhaps I was wrong and all humans are not wastes of skin and bones."

Not at all convinced of that himself, Wesley turned and entered the bathroom, knowing he'd never be able to wash himself clean of her.

There were many ways to sell your soul to the devil. At least he got an orgasm out of his.

End