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Wesley can't quite believe it when he hears the click of the door handle and feels the sudden rush of air, but his foot's already slammed on the brakes and the SUV stops abruptly. The car that was driving behind them also stops with a screech and a loud blare of the horn. Wesley ignores both and jumps out of the car, going after Cordy, and damning her utter stupidity. He grabs onto both of her shoulders before she can get past the end of the vehicle and spins her around, not even trying to be gentle. "What the bloody hell was that all about?" "I told you I was getting out," Cordelia says, defiantly. "And I told you I wasn't leaving you here, not like this." The car waiting behind them blares its horn again. "Get back in the car." "No." "Cordelia, get back in the bloody car or I'll put you there myself." Her eyes flash. "I'd like to see you try." Without pause, Wesley slings her up over his shoulder and starts for the passenger side door, which she's helpfully left open. Cordelia struggles and manages to get him in the side of the face with one flailing elbow, but he continues until he's flung her into the seat. "Stay there," he says grimly, and shuts the door. The driver in the car behind them leans on his horn again as Wesley gets behind the wheel. "L.A. drivers," he mutters as he starts the SUV up again and pulls away. Cordelia is sulking beside him, arms crossed in front of her. "I can't believe you just did that," she says eventually. "I can't believe I had to," he counters. "Have you gone completely mad? Do you seriously think I could just abandon you in the middle of the city?" "I've been living in L.A. for years," Cordelia says. "What do you think would have happened to me?" "Oh, let's see. Kidnapping, vampire attack, demon impregnation. Any of those ring a bell?" He's filled with disgust at her stupidity, at her utter lack of self-preservation. "Have you any money at all?" "What?" Cordelia looks uncertain, and in that instant Wesley understands how truly lost she's been since she returned. "Cash. It was something you were rather fond of, once." She rallies, sitting up straighter. "I would have been fine," she says stubbornly, her avoidance of the question typical of the Cordelia he remembers. "That's not the point." Wesley gentles his voice now. "You've been through a great deal and I'm not going to just leave you when you've been... upset." Cordelia doesn't say anything to that. She goes back to looking out the window. "Where are we going?" He sighs, knowing that the offer he's about to make wouldn't be possible if things with Lilah weren't so up in the air. "I suppose we've a few options. I could take you somewhere for a meal? Or we could go back to my flat... you're welcome to my bed for the night, if you need some time away from the hotel." Cordelia gets that he's not offering to share the bed with her -- he'd let her have it, sleep on the hard lumpy couch, probably. If it's even the same couch. For all she knows he might be living in a different apartment, by now. But no, turns out it's the same one. Same couch. Same everything. Well, except for Wes' missing glasses, and the scruffy look that suits him way better than the buttoned-up one ever did. And the scar that she tries not to look at too closely, because of all that its presence implies. "Can I get you anything?" Wesley asks, as she moves to perch herself on the edge of the couch. "No. I'm good." He brings her a glass of water anyway, and she's happy to take it. "Would you like to tell me what you remembered?" he says. She can't help but shiver. "No, actually, I wouldn't." "You might feel better for it. Sometimes - " "No," she says sharply, and then sighs and leans back into the couch cushions. The apartment smells familiar, comforting. "When I was gone..." she starts, and then falters. Wes nods, encouraging. "Yes?" He doesn't move closer, but it's like he's holding her hand. "I saw... all the things Angel did. When he was Angelus." And that's it -- she doesn't have to explain any more, because she can see from Wes' expression that he understands. "Ah. I see." "Remembering it like that, all at once -- it was, you know, kind of overwhelming." "I'm sure it must have been." His voice is neutral, making it easy for her to continue if she wants to finish, or to stop if she can't. "I can't... ever feel the same way about him again. I mean, I knew he'd done terrible things as Angelus. I was there for some of it. Okay, a tiny fraction of it. This was... different." "Different how?" Still gentle. "I felt it. All of the things that he did to all of those people... it was like he was doing them to me." Cordelia shivers again, discovers that she's sitting upright like her body knows it might not be a bad idea to run far, far away and never see these people again. Only... they're still all she has. Wesley moves closer, sits down on the table across from her, their knees bumping slightly. "I can imagine you would have preferred not to remember that bit at all." She nods. Her stomach hurts, and there are things that she knows she'd be able to remember that she just can't handle thinking about right now. She looks at Wes instead, at his blue eyes and his familiar face, and after a minute or so she realizes that she's staring at him, and that she can't seem to look away. And she sits there as Wesley leans forward and presses his lips against hers. The very second that the kiss happens, she knows it's all over. There's too much that she needs and can't have for her to be able to refuse this, now. Wesley's surprised that he wants her so badly, even though it's been no more than forty-eight hours since he last fucked Lilah. This is Cordelia, he reminds himself. She's been through a great deal and she's emotionally raw and what she needs, mostly likely, is someone to comfort her and make her tea and pat her shoulder. She can't possibly need this. But Wesley does, and the fact that she seems to want it so badly pushes him beyond caring whether or not it's the right thing to do. She gasps into his mouth, her tongue meeting his. She tastes like ash and herbs and her skin is smooth and more delicate than Lilah's. The kiss is much, much hotter than he would have expected, and he has to force himself to stay in control, not to do something that might hurt her. She's different from Lilah in that way as well. He and Lilah are looking for new ways to feel the pain -- Cordelia's just trying to make it go away. Cordelia kisses him frantically. "I'm sorry," she says, and Wesley pulls back immediately, despite her hands gripping his shirt front. "Is that what this is?" he asks coldly. "An apology?" "No," Cordy says, her eyes snapping with more than a bit of her old fire. "The apology was when I said 'I'm sorry.' This," and her tongue moves out and across his lower lip, "is something else." It's a good enough explanation for Wesley's hands, apparently, since they're already busy helping her remove her shirt, already unhooking her brassiere and moving to cup her picture-perfect breasts. His thumbs brush over her nipples, teasingly, and she moans into his mouth. He's pushing her back onto the couch, kissing her, and then sliding down her body to circle a nipple with his tongue, barely touching it, just leaving a damp spiral. She shivers and whispers his name. "Wesley." He can't see the point of rushing things, so he takes his time. Traces her aereolas with the flat of his tongue, again and again, but not giving her nipples the contact that she obviously craves. She writhes beneath him, fingers of one hand entwined with his as he teases her past the point where she can bear it. Her own hand moves down to touch one nipple then, but Wesley pushes it away, and draws the tight point into his mouth, sucking firmly. Cordelia cries out, softly, her body arching under his, her thigh pressing upward between his legs maddeningly. He releases her hand so that he can pinch her other nipple, first gently, and then with more pressure when she moves against him encouragingly. His teeth mimic the touch on her other breast. Wesley takes his time. It's driving her nuts. She's always been sensitive, and Wes is playing her like he knows her body much better than he ought to. Cordelia squirms underneath him, manages to shift his weight slightly, and slides a hand between them to cup Wes' cock through his pants. He shudders, and then uses his teeth just a little bit more sharply. "Don't play with me, Cordelia," he says warningly, before kissing her harder than before. "I'm not the same person you knew, any more than you are, I'd imagine. Don't push me too far." "How about I push you just far enough?" she asks, and there isn't any playfulness in the question. She needs him. Well, needs something. Guess this'll have to be enough. Wesley thrusts himself against her palm, just once, and then stands up and pulls her to her feet. He undoes her pants and pushes them down along with her panties, rough, and then his tongue pushes ticklingly against her clit and she groans, uncontrollably. "I'd rather push you," he tells her. "Unless you have some objection?" Cordelia's only objection is that he's stopped what he was doing, but he returns to working her clit before she can voice it. Her hands are clutching his shoulders and the fabric of his shirt is smooth under her fingertips. She closes her eyes and tries to forget everything but what Wes is doing to her. His tongue flicks, pushes, flicks again. Enough to bring her to the edge, several times, but not enough to take her past that. She can feel herself starting to hyperventilate, and he's still just teasing her. "Please," she says, and she's not asking nicely. Wes' tongue trails her bikini line. "Please what?" he asks. It's only with huge amounts of self-control that she manages not to shove her own fingertip against her clit and bring herself off. She's so close. "I'm not going to beg," she tells him. He slides his finger up between her thighs and then pushes it into her, just a little bit. "Fair enough," Wesley says. He stands up and starts to take off his clothes, casual and confident. He wasn't kidding when he said he was different now. He's toned in ways that are new, and he seems comfortable in his skin. "Sit down," Wesley tells her, and for some reason, she does. He kicks the table back out of the way and kneels between her legs, and for a few seconds she thinks he's going to go down on her again, and she's grateful. But he moves in too close for that, kisses her roughly, his stubble scratching her face. His hand is between her thighs again, two fingers sliding into her, and she pushes them deeper with a flex of her hips. "More," she says, aching for it. And for a second she thinks Wesley might have grinned, and then his fingers are gone, and his tongue pushes into her mouth at the same time he shoves his cock into her, with no more warning than that. It's not the first time today she's totally lost her breath, and Wes pauses long enough for her to at least try to catch it again. He's so hard inside her, stretching her, and she can't help but rock slightly against him. She whimpers, and Wesley starts to move. Not that Wesley hasn't been doing his fair share of fucking these days, but much as he might like to deny it, this is different. Cordelia clenches herself around him and bucks her hips, and Wesley could no more stop fucking her in that moment than he could stop the sun from burning in the sky. He can feel her heels digging into the small of his back as he thrusts, as their bodies move together. He's never fucked Lilah on this specific part of the couch -- not in this position, at any rate -- and that makes it different, too. The affection that he feels for Cordelia, coupled with the fact that, damn it all, this feels marvelous, is enough to let him put Lilah aside and concentrate on the woman under him. Cordelia's whimpering at the height of each thrust, and the sound of it tightens his balls. He slides his hand down to where they're joined and rubs his thumb roughly over her clit, and she whimpers more loudly. Her eyes are closed, and Wesley wonders if she's thinking of someone else. She's hot and wet around him, and when she moans it's Wesley's name on her lips. And if there was any part of him that was still holding back it vanishes in that instant, for that instant, and he's completely there with her, and that's when Wesley knows the difference between love and lust and can see that he has one or the other, but not both. He pulls her closer, kissing her with a depth of feeling he wouldn't have thought possible a minute before. "Cordelia," he says, thrusting, not wanting to forget that this is his friend and that he loves her, on some level. She's so impossibly lovely as she moves to meet him again and again, as her body tightens around him in a way he thinks is natural and not deliberate, and he can't believe that this might be the only time this will happen for them. Wesley drives into her more quickly, kisses her more fiercely, and she whimpers again as he slicks his fingertip over her clit. She's so wet. It's over in a second -- one high-pitched noise in the back of her throat, and then something close to a scream as she comes, quivering in his arms. Before she's finished, Wesley joins her, burying himself to the hilt in her tight heat. He's crushing her into the couch as he finishes, and her hands are moving across his back, soothingly, as if she suspects this might all be too much for him to bear. They kiss some more, slowly now, without separating. Wesley wonders if Cordelia has the same feeling that he does, that this was a one-time affair and once it's over, it's most assuredly over. Finally, with reluctance, he moves away. "Are you all right?" he asks her. "What?" she says, glassy-eyed with pleasure, her hair mussed. He doesn't think she's ever looked so beautiful. "Are you nuts? Of course I'm all right." A smile slips onto his face, and it feels genuine. "Well, good." He brushes gentle fingers across her cheek. Now there's awkwardness. Do they go to bed? Does he offer her a shower and assume that she'll know he'd like to join her? Or would it better to dress and pretend this hasn't happened? Wesley's unsure of the etiquette that follows sleeping with one's friend. Trust Cordelia to save the day. "Shower," she says, standing up and pulling him to his feet as well. "Come on." His body rallies when he stands next to her under the steaming water, when he watches her run soapy hands over her own body. They only wash themselves, and don't touch each other at all except for a bumping of fingers as she passes him the soap. "Bed?" Cordelia asks brightly, as they towel themselves dry, her tone belying the utter exhaustion he can see on her face. "Absolutely," he agrees. She waits until he's settled in a comfortable position and then moves over close, not quite touching, her face next to his. "This is pretty weird," she says. "It's an interesting turn of events." "You're not sorry?" She sounds insecure, and he's quick to answer. "No, of course not." Wesley turns slightly, and their noses almost touch. "I mean... unless you are?" "No." Cordelia shakes her head. "Still... pretty weird." He does touch her, then, tucking her hair back behind her ear carefully. "Why don't you try to sleep?" he suggests. She nods and closes her eyes. Wesley spends a long time just watching her, the lines on her face smoothing away as she slips into sleep. Finally he shuts his own eyes and lets go of the moment. His last thought before he drifts off is that some things might change, but love doesn't seem to. End
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