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28 January 2007 @ 01:28 pm

The Sandy Pearl, 9:00 o'clock, I told him.

We had to talk, I told him.

Or really, what I told Cordelia was that I needed a hand and could she tell Wesley (the gentleman in me always tries to call him Mr. Pryce, but the one time I did that, I ended up talking to his brother on the phone, and if that wasn't a nightmare...) to meet me at the pier at nine sharp or the deal was going to fall through.

Code. We had no choice. It wasn't paradise, but...it worked.

The Sandy Pearl on the other hand was a dive. Sure seemed like you had just been spit out of a clam shell and tossed on the beach on some deserted island. Not much in the way of amenities, but the beds were clean and the night manager made a point of not looking at his customers.

Like I said, we had no choice, but I had to see him.

It was our usual room...for this motel. Sometimes we went to others, but this one was easiest for both of us to get to. At least he'd know which room to come to. Too many things in code and one of us would get confused.

The room was dark, light dusting in through the old, faded curtains with palm trees and native gals on them. I sat at the end of the bed and waited, trying not to smell the dust over everything or the faint scent of bleach from the bathroom, most likely covering up something far more unpleasant.

[Open to Wesley]
Current Location: The Sandy Pearl Motel
Current Mood: pensivepensive
Wesley Wyndam-Pryce_wes_pryce_ on January 28th, 2007 08:01 pm (UTC)
Christ, I was still pissed off about this whole ordeal. I couldn't believe William actually admitted talking to that a-moral harpy in the hopes to 'get lucky'. The boy really had *no* taste, and not to mention no self esteem. Good lord.

But he had insisted that he'd not told the woman anything about the case. The only ones left who knew were Lindsey and Cordelia. I doubt Lindsey goes around throwing in his own glass house. Cordelia I trusted fully. It did help that she disliked Miss Morgan with a passion and would get within ten feet of her.

I was still seething when I got back from my meeting with William. Only to be greeted by a rather, extremely sniffly looking Cordelia. She'd given me a message and then declared she was taking the rest of the day off. She left me to glance at my watch and notice it was already past five in the afternoon. Cordelia must've really been out of it. If I didn't know any better I'd say...

...Nah, all she does is harp at McDonald. Poor sniffling chap that he was. From the cold, of course.

The time that was left before I it was time to meet Liam was spend righting all the files Cordelia had her sweet hands on. I seriously do not get that woman's filing system. It makes no sense! Of course that only caused my aggravation to grow so I was rather glad to see it was time to The Sandy Pearl.

I hated that hotel. I hated the fact that we constantly had to sneak around. I hated the fact that he was married. I hated the fact that Willow was seeing his son. It's times like these I hated what I was. I wondered if Liam didn't feel guilty at all. I sure as hell did. Can't even begin to count the many times I was determined to tell him that we should stop.

That never happened though.

When I finally arrived at the hotel - having parked my car a few blocks away - I watched the entrance for a few moments. Then I took a deep breath and went inside. The chap at the front desk didn't even look up as I past him and went to the usual room. When I entered Liam was already waiting.

"No matter how many times we end up here," I sighed, wrinkling my nose at the room at large. "The décor will always be horrible," I said, pulling my fedora off.
Keep Me: det callaghan_keep_me on January 28th, 2007 10:09 pm (UTC)
The door sung as it opened, and a long shaft of light fell into the room. Guess I shouldn't really have been sitting around in the dark, but I do my best thinking in the dark. Plus, keeps me from looking in the mirror before we do...things like this. It's not my favorite look. Hell, I'm a good Catholic, I don't even know how I got myself into this mess. But one look at his face when he sets his hat down... cheating on Darla, lying to my son, lying to the world... it all seems to fade away.

"Yeah," I smiled wryly, "no chance of this place ever getting any class." I stood finally, the bed creaked as my weight left it, and I went to help Wes with his coat. Could never really get my head around calling him Wesley. He didn't seem like a Wesley to me. Definitely a Wes. Slipping the long trenchcoat onto the honest-to-God coat rack to join mine, I came back and slid my hands over his shoulders from behind and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek.

"Glad you came," I said, feeling whatever accusations I had in me, wanting to seep out. Yeah, I was a little red at the thought of him not telling me he was working *my* case. I was more than a little red at finding it out in Morgan's rag of a newspaper. but I'd had some time to cool off. I was going to try to be a gentleman about this.

"I know we don't talk about work, but it seems work got thrust in my face today." His skin smelled so good, so close like this. I don't know what kind of cologne he wore, if he did wear any, but I would be getting him some more if it kept him smelling like this. I couldn't help rubbing my nose against his jaw. I know I'm trying to have a serious discussion here, but the man really...he just does me in.

"When'd you start working the Preston case?" I murmur, hands still resting on his shoulders, mouth still scant inches from his jaw, ear, neck, whatever I might care to put it on. And why did I have to find out about it in the paper this morning?
Wesley Wyndam-Pryce_wes_pryce_ on January 28th, 2007 10:25 pm (UTC)
"Of course I came," I mumbled, giving him a slight frown. He always said the same thing and I always wondered if he thought I wouldn't one day. If he thought the guilt would have finally gotten the better of me, convincing me that we really needed to end this. The moment I walked into the same room when it was just Wes and Liam thought?

I knew that wasn't ever going to happen. At least not any time soon. And that was the reason I couldn't look into Darla's eyes on those rare occasions I did meet the woman. She seemed a nice enough woman, descent, very pretty if you like that sort of thing. And I wasn't going to think about to deeply. Certainly not now. Certainly not when I could see the guilt in *his* eyes even if it was only for a brief moment.

The struggle out of my coat was sped up with his help. He seemed eager and hesitant at the same time. Mixed signals, that's something we weren't very good at. Something always got lost in the translation. We've had many an argument, but mostly about work, despite our pact. So I wasn't really surprised when he brought up work.

"We're not talking about work," I tried feebly, eyes closing when I felt breath tickle my skin. I could still feel my skin burn from the small kiss. And that's exactly what this man does to me. He burns me and I enjoy every moment of it. I turned around, dislodging his hands from my shoulders in the process. Eyes narrowed as I pressed myself closer to him.

"McDonald asked us a day ago. We are *not* talking about work," I repeated, leaning in to press my lips against his throat.
Keep Me: angel gets his man_keep_me on January 28th, 2007 11:22 pm (UTC)
I did always say the same thing, and he always gave me the same answer and the same hurt frown. I'd never know though, would I? The day he didn't show up, would it be the day he decided enough was enough, or would it just be the day when a case ran away from him and he got iced, or his throat slit, lying in some gutter. This world? You never knew.

I could tell he was as close as I was to just giving up the pretense of talking and going right for the carnal sin. He made my heart flutter just with that weak protest. I wasn't surprised when he turned and faced me though; Wes always faced this relationship head on. At least when it was just the two of us. He didn't try to talk himself out of it once he was here. Me, I did in my head a few times, but Wes was always here to bring me back.

I groaned the instant his mouth touched my skin, hands flying to his slender hips, thumb teasing at the waistband. We both always wore too many clothes for these assignations - suit jackets, ties, buttons on top of buttons - sometimes I think that was part of the fun of it. To see how long we could last until it was skin on skin. To see if we could last that long.

"You know that's my case," I persisted, but I didn't want to make any accusations. The angry part of me did, but I couldn't just... My fingers were pulling at his shirt to get it out of his slacks, his mouth still doing unholy things to my throat. "You know who told Morgan, yet?" Yeah, I was a dumb pig cop, but sometimes I couldn't help pushing him to the point where he'd make me shut my yap.
Wesley Wyndam-Pryce_wes_pryce_ on January 28th, 2007 11:38 pm (UTC)
There were times when I wondered what I saw in him. Big oaf of a man who put his foot in his mouth any chance he get. Temper of a bear and a very short fuse. I've seen him snap at his men, I've seen him stare down McDonald - not one to mess with either - and have the other man back away. He could be irritating, annoying and downright rude if he had to be.

But also gentle, and tender and caring. I'm guessing there are only three people who know that side of him, aside from his mother. His son, Darla and then there was me. There were times when I thought he only used me to get rid of all this pent of frustration he carried around inside him. Because what other reason could he have for pushing me and pushing me every damn time until I broke and gave him what he silently demanded.

"I know," I murmured, feeling the tension grow inside of me. Our number one rule. No talking about work. The one rule we constantly seemed to be breaking. Bloody hell. "We are not," I repeated again, punctuating each work with a sharp nip against his throat, "talking about work."

My hands moved down to his slacks, - neatly pressed, always immaculate, Darla's work. I wasted no time to get his belt loose, followed by lowering his zipper down. His shirt was out before he even had time to think, one hand down his pants cupping his growing erection. "And we're certainly not talking about wench, Liam," I added sternly.

No, I didn't know who told Morgan. All I knew was that it's hadn't been William, or Cordy. Seems to me our good friend McDonald has a leak. Or the police department. But since I had no desire to end up beaten within in an inch of my life, or worse dead, I wasn't going to bring *that* up.
Keep Me: angel gets his man_keep_me on January 29th, 2007 12:10 am (UTC)
Shutting my mouth, that was definitely what he was after. I had no doubt about that.

You'd think it had been his rule the way he was reacting. So it had been happening more often than not lately. But it always seemed like there was something stirring up trouble between us and work. Maybe it was Lilah's rise to take over her daddy's paper. Maybe it was McDonald and his always worming his way into other people's business. Who knew, but it was something and it kept making us butt heads about our cases when we were supposed to be doing something entirely different.

Neck, neck, neck, the man always went for my neck, always where I was vulnerable, always where it got me the hottest. Not even Darla tried that anymore. She steered clear of getting me that wound up. Wes...did not.

His hands were like magic, my trousers open in the blink of an eye- I sucked in a hard breath when his hand was finally there. A shiver snaked up my spine at his tone, and before I knew it I was pining him to the wall. Nowhere near the force I could have used, but it knocked the breath out of both of us. "No work," I breathed, finally agreeing with him. Didn't really care much about work at the moment anyway.

My hands shoved under his shirt, and around, fiery skin under each of my fingers until they were behind him, sliding down to cup his ass and mold him against me. "No wenches," I added belatedly, groaning against his collarbone at the feel of him pressed so tight against me. "Just you."
Wesley Wyndam-Pryce_wes_pryce_ on January 29th, 2007 10:35 am (UTC)

Well, *that* certainly got a reaction out of him. And one I could work with as well. No work, that was the deal. After spending the whole day being pissed off at William for thinking *he* was our leak? The last thing I wanted to do was talk about work. Certainly not with Detective Callaghan.

I was here to see Liam and no one else. There wasn't room for anyone else.

Letting him pin me to the wall, I thrust my hand back into his slacks where it had been dislodged. I loved the sounds I could get him to make, the looks on his face, the way he pressed himself closer. This was what we both wanted. What we both needed. Does Darla make you feel the same way?

I wasn't stupid. I knew I needed more, but I'd become good at denying myself what I needed opposite to what I could get. And this was all I could from him. Sneaking around in dirty backward hotel rooms for a quick release and no more. This had been going on for years now, the foolish, childish hope I'd had in the beginning was long gone by now.

Bitter, jaded shell of a man left.

"Damn right," I growled, my head falling back against the wall with a thud. My hand finally wormed its way into his briefs, now curling around the length of his shaft. I could feel it throbbing in my hand with each heartbeat. Hips jerked forward, my own erection rubbing against his tight when cupped my arse.

"Bed," I commanded between pants of air. "Now."
Keep Me: angel gets his man_keep_me on January 29th, 2007 01:47 pm (UTC)
It was wrong how good it sounded when he cursed. I'd heard plenty worse, but from Wes' lips, it was somehow dirtier, somehow you knew things were going very right (or very wrong) if a curse had slipped through his lips.

And a whole slew of them were slipping through mine the way his hand clamped around me, those magic fingers finding their way right to my shaft. "Yes," I moaned, pressing him to me even harder. I could feel him matching my need, rubbing that length of hardness against my thigh.

"You're the boss," I gasped out, realizing he was the only one I let boss me around. Boys at work did it and they got a glare and sometimes a note in their file. Darla tried it now and then but I knew she'd indulge me in the end. This man though...it was fair to say he owned my soul. Not that I would ever tell him that, and he didn't need to know. I had nothing to offer him, this could never be more than what it was.

My hands cup under his ass, squeeze and then let go, making that hand on my erection stop for just a brief second. Hands moving between us, I tugged him along by his tie and his shirt, loosening and unbuttoning as I went. Knees hit the bed, and I tugged him down with me, hand not leaving that tie, eyes not leaving his.

"I was thinking...we might have time to go a little slower tonight. The kids are with- are at my place...no one would miss us." My hands are back on his hips, sliding around his ass, his shirt open and fluttering between us. I look into those blue eyes, nearly grey most days, and wonder if he'll give in. "They know we're on a case," I cajole, pulling him down by his tie, eyes on his lips.
Wesley Wyndam-Pryce_wes_pryce_ on January 29th, 2007 08:05 pm (UTC)
A narrowed eyed look was send his way at those words. In this game we were playing, neither of us was really the boss. Sometime it would be me, the next time it would be him. It all depended on our moods, what happened before we came here and whether or not he would ask stupid question. The most certain way to shut him up from asking stupid questions, or demanding answers I couldn't give him was this.

Sex. Sex and nothing more. We weren't stupid. We both knew not to expect more, even though we did indulge in the so called 'pillow talk'.

"Bloody right I am," I told him, which was then soon belied when he started to pull me toward the bed. One hand was still trapped inside his slacks while he pulled m along using my tie. He didn't waste any time unbuttoning my shirt while I wasted no time to shove his pants down his hips. They fell to his ankles in a puddle and then completely off when he landed on the bed.

I kneeled down between his leg, shedding my shirt. Which made me have to let go of the grip I had on his cock. Once that was done I started to work on his shirt and tie, making quick work to get rid of them. His words make me pause, the un expectancy of them allowing him to pull me down once again using that damn tie.

There's something about Liam and ties. There really is.

"Why?" I wanted to know, raising my eyebrow and pulling my face a little bit away from him. My hand traveled down his chest, pinching his nipples before dipping into his boxers, fingers curling around his erect cock.

And really, did he have to mention the kids now? I was feeling guilty enough. It had been easy to avoid Connor until he started to date Willow. Something I'd tried to prevent with all my might, but to no avail.

"What the hell did you do before you got here?" I ask, muscles clenching under his touch. "Or is that really something I do not want to know?"
Keep Me: angel gets his man_keep_me on January 29th, 2007 10:57 pm (UTC)
It was all a frenzy that for some reason tonight felt too fast. I wanted more of his hands, more of his breath on my skin, more of him.

Kicking off my slacks, toeing off my shoes, and shoving aside his shirt, we managed to get more skin and to get on the bed. He crawled between my legs like a tiger on the prowl. That belt, those trousers, they were both going to have to go. Thank god he let go of my prick for a second or all of my resolve to go slow was going to fizzle out faster than any of my leads on this Preston case.

His hands didn't slow, making sure work of my pressed shirt and tie, the remnants hanging off me like rags. Should fold them so I don't come home rumpled. But I've come home rumpled from far worse things. Things that involved stains Darla could never get out.

My head tilts to catch those lips in a kiss, but he's talking and pulling back, and- "Oh, hell," I grunted, hips jerking into his hand.

I grab his still far too covered hips - I'm practically undressed and here he is half clothed still - and bring him back to where he was a moment ago. "No talking," I mumbled, snagging his lips harshly, tongue driving in deep to turn off those silly questions.

I was pretty sure most nights, as he was buttoning up his clothes and we were tidying the room to leave, when he'd glance at me, I thought maybe, just maybe I had his heart in my hands and I could squash it like that if things ever went bad. But he'd look away, the steely gaze shuttering his eyes, and I'd doubt whether I had seen it at all. I had the feeling maybe this was another one of those moments. If he gave in, went too slow, had time to think about things, this would all unravel and he would be lost in the tide.

My mouth finally let go of his, tongue swiping his lips before returning to press kisses along his jaw, nibble and suck at his ear, before adding, "about work," I finish in response to his question. He really didn't want to know what I'd done before this. It was enough to say that I'd missed him, and that was something he wouldn't have let me say.
Wesley Wyndam-Pryce: Wes Eye (remember_nomore)_wes_pryce_ on January 30th, 2007 10:49 am (UTC)
"You're the one who stared it," I shoot back, just before he presses his lips to mine. Kissing, it had taken us a long time to get to the kissing. It had been something I'd been apprehensive about. Kissing made it real, kissing somehow made me more vulnerable, kissing made me weak.

The first time he kissed me I'd known I'd been right. I had been so very lost in those kisses that I couldn't think straight. My mind went completely blank and it terrified me for a long moment. But he persisted and had kept on kissing me until I was lost... and found I didn't mind.

Now there was kissing, it was one sure way to shut us both up. It didn't fail this time. I kissed him back, hands still roaming over his body while I groaned into his mouth. Clothes were gotten rid of, the tie fell to the floor and my hands ended up buried in his hair. I could feel my own erection rub against his bare hip making me moan only louder.

When we finally pull back from the kiss to breathe, I'm still curious as to why he'd wanted to take it slow, but it's so far away in the back of my mind that I can ignore it.

Panting, I pull back from him with a smirk. He looks beautiful and flushed laying there on the bed naked. All splayed out for me, cock standing up erect and proud as pre-come leaks from the tip. "No talking period," I growl, shoving my slacks and brief down my hips. They fall to the floor, down to my ankles making it easy for me to step out of them.

The smirk is still in place as I approach him silently, like a cat on the prowl. And he's my much priced pray. One knee on the bed nudges he legs apart and presses against his balls. A hand finds it's way back into his hair, all but yanking his head back for another kiss as I push him down on the bed.
Keep Me: angel gets his man_keep_me on January 30th, 2007 11:12 pm (UTC)
It never fails. The way he looks at me, the way he devours me with his eyes and the barest flick of his tongue. Like he's been hungry his whole life and I'm only the appetizer. Sometimes I think that's how this all got started. The hunger grew too strong for him and he couldn't wait any longer. Couldn't keep starving himself. It was a long dance we danced, but in the end it was explosive and I think we both came away seared to the bone.

I know I did.

I swallow hard and feel my cock jerk as his eyes rake over me. It's dizzying always taking it this fast, but it's also a rush that never quite seems to fade. He growls and I shiver, a reaction I've witnessed from the other end many a time. My eyes lock on his hands as he shoves away the last thread of our clothing and then I can't stop looking at the cock that bobs out, ready and hard and, "Wes," I moan, pushing down on the knee between my legs, anything to relieve the tightness there.

Rubbing wantonly against him, I groan into his mouth, the violence of his move making my hands fly to his hips and dig into them tightly. I kiss him back, feverishly, hard, rough, my teeth getting careless, and I suck his lip into my mouth to sooth away a small, unbidden cut. My hips buck, trying ot find some friction, missing that hand that was on me before. "Touch me," I moan, hands trying to jerk his smooth, slim hips forward.

His rule about talking? I barely remember the words leaving his lips.
Wesley Wyndam-Pryce_wes_pryce_ on January 31st, 2007 12:11 am (UTC)
There’s just something in the way he looks at me. Something about the look in his eyes when I glance at him and I know I’m devouring him whole with just my own eyes. Something in the way he swallows hard when I do that. Something in the way he just submits to me when I all but force myself on him. All but, he would never allow anyone to force anything with him. Let alone this.

It’s a game and we both know it. That’s why we both agree. Sticklers to the rules as we are, we keep to them. Just as much as we don’t keep to them. Such as his sudden request, I suddenly remember, to take things slow.

He ruts himself against my knee, making me grin while I battle with is tongue. The kiss is hot and needy from both sides. Pushing him down on the bed, I stretch out on top of him, taking away the knee and the friction he so desperately seeks. Teasing is also fun. Not that most people would consider this teasing. They would probably consider it torture, but I can’t bring myself to care. It’s the way we work, its how we work.

“Shut up,” I growl when he starts to demand things again. I don’t like it. It makes me worry. First there’s the request to take it slow, now he’s nearly begging me to touch him. As if I never touch him, as though he’s starved for touch. Putting my hands on his shoulders, I pin him down on the bed using my own - not very substantial compared to him - weight.

“Don’t make me use your tie as a gag, Liam,” I tell him, cocking an eyebrow at the same time my fingers find his nipples and pinch them hard.
Keep Me: angel gets his man_keep_me on January 31st, 2007 01:00 am (UTC)
This is definitely a side I never expected of him, but was intensely glad I found. I humped against his knee until all I had was air, and a whimper type of groan spilled out of me between kisses. Or should I say attacks on my mouth. Yeah, this side that's *completely* the boss, completely holding all the control like he's trying to tame a big, bucking horse.

I get another jolt as he shoves me into the mattress, my cock jerking yet again at his demanding attitude, begging for any friction it can get. God, I want him. Always want him. But I have to play this game. Have to follow the rules. Or someone might get hurt.

"You wouldn't," I tell him, eyes narrowing before opening wide as I arch into his hands. His wicked, wicked hands. "Ah!" I snap my mouth shut and swallow a harsh moan in the back of my throat. Jesus help me, I love it when he's rough like that. Panting, I stare up at him, and I know he can see how much I enjoy it. Know he'll exploit it. Know I'm getting too close tonight. He can't afford to let me so close.

"Like to see you try, Tiger," elbows bend where he's only got my shoulders and my hands splay around his waist, brands. Twisting and reaching, I finally get an opening and go for his neck, biting and nipping and sucking at the soft flesh below his stubble, but with the movement and turmoil of our bodies, my lips jerk everywhere, stubble burn making them painfully sensitive and probably bright, swollen red. I dare you, is gleaming in my eyes when he yanks my head away.
Wesley Wyndam-Pryce_wes_pryce_ on January 31st, 2007 10:29 am (UTC)
The smirk on my face grows slightly more wicked. Evil some might say, even though most people wouldn't consider to mark me as 'evil'. I know the way most people see me. It's a carefully constructed facade that works well. Just as Liam's facade is carefully constructed. Complete with wife and child. Then again, he likes women also I think. I don't. He's got one up on me.

Of course he also has this habit of not listening and keeps on talking. The look on my face becomes an annoyed one when I realize I'm being played. He knows exactly that by challenging me I'd carry out my threat. And he'd get what he wants. Though why he'd want to be gagged, I don't know.

There's definitely something not right in the world of Liam Callaghan tonight. And I'm guessing it all has to do with what happened before he came here. I'm not going to ask, I'm not going to play that game either. Tonight I'm in charge, that much is obvious and he'll damn well do what I tell him.

Which is what I'm about to day when he calls me 'Tiger' and attacks my throat. So very much not fair! He knows what that does to me. "Ah...g-god," I stammer, whishing he wouldn't call me that while at the same time wishing he would. I don't have any pet names for him. To dangerous, to easy to slip.

I'm pretty sure no one would look strangely if he calls his wife 'Tiger', considering she is one. I on the other hand haven't anyone to have a slip of the tongue with. Against. Well, other then Liam. Liam who needs to be put in his place.

"Shut the hell up," I growl, yanking his mouth from my neck - regretfully I may add. Sitting up on my knees, I wrap my hand around his hard cock and narrow my eyes at him. "I don't I need a tie to make you shut up," I inform him calmly, thumb rubbing over the head of his shaft. "Do I? Liam? You're going to be a good boy and keep still wont you? Not a peep out of you when we do this, isn't that so?"
Keep Me: angel gets his man_keep_me on January 31st, 2007 07:06 pm (UTC)
Straight for the jugular, it works every time, and in this case it really is his jugular. He almost, almost goes limp when I do that. It makes a whole lot of pride fill me that I can get him to actually react right now, as caught up as he is in taking control.

There might even be a little smirk on my face when he pulls me away, just like I knew he would. Too much, too rebellious. I'm about to quirk an eyebrow at his sharp words, but suck in a breath and close my eyes when he grabs my cock. "Yes," I hiss, not in response to his question, but yes that he's touching me. "Yes," I answer more strongly, this time to his question, when my hips jerk into his too loose fist. Your good boy I want to hiss at him, but it's a little too familiar, a little too close to being Darla's darling boy. Connor and I, we're both her darling boys, but when she says it to me, says it like molten wax on her tongue, it's very, very different than how she might say it in mixed company.

I want to challenge him more, keep pushing him, but something in me wants to be a good boy right now for him. "What if I can't?" comes out anyway, eyes closing as I try to pump into his fist again.

He doesn't want to know what I did before this. He doesn't want to know how long I walked today after leaving Lilah's office. How long I spent telling myself I was following leads I didn't have, sniffing out clues I hadn't found. What if I can't? What if I can't solve this case? What if Morgan is right, and the police are idiots, and I lose my job? Who'll take care of Connor and Darla then? Connor'll have to drop out of school, and I am not letting that happen. We sneak by on my salary, and whatever I can get under the table, and it might not be likely to happen, but I've seen it on the Commisioner's face. Cuts'll come soon enough if we can't turn things around.

But I don't want to think about that right now. I want... I just want... I just need... My eyes flash up to Wes'. Please.
Wesley Wyndam-Pryce_wes_pryce_ on January 31st, 2007 09:40 pm (UTC)
He really is craving for touch. It makes me briefly wonder if Darla never touches him and if perhaps his marriage isn't all that prefect as the world thinks it is. Or even as Darla thinks it is. I know it's not, otherwise he wouldn't be here. In bed. With me. But to see him craving my touch so much does fill me with a strange sort of glee.

It also immediately nearly floors me with guilt. I never wanted to be a home wrecker, I have no intention of becoming one. But what can you do when your addiction keeps getting fed? And Liam very much is an addition. One I cannot do without. Sometime that frightens me as much as it angers me.

"I still hear audible words coming out of your mouth," I inform him. My grip on his cock tightens and the way he jerks up into my hand makes my own erection throb with need. "You're not being a very good boy, Liam." A flick of the wrist and my pulls on his hard on change, making it difficult for him to follow along.

Of course he then has to challenge me. I hate it when he does that.

The hand around his shaft moves away fast as I sit back on my knees. My own cock is bobbing up and down, pre-come leaking from the head and begging for some friction. It'll have to wait though. "If you can't," I inform him calmly, "then you don't get to come."

Fingers curl around my own erection, lazily stripping it. A groan gets out, breath growing shallow. "And you don't get to watch me come either. Because I'll blindfold you and your mouth...my dear Liam, will be to occupied with something other then talking."
Keep Me: angel gets his man_keep_me on February 1st, 2007 12:12 am (UTC)
He plays me. He plays me like he knows exactly what I need. Like he knows what I'm thinking. But how could he, how could he think that the great detective Callaghan was at the end of his rope? He wouldn't. If there's one thing Wes and I have, it's respect, but dear lord I am not thinking about that at all right now when he squeezes my shaft so tight, so tight I can't get any friction, can't move inside that heat.

I give a sharp yelp of surprise as he changes techniques and keeps me guessing, keeps me out of my own head. My fingers curl into the tacky bedspread and I want so badly to moan and curse and tell him how good it feels, but I desperately want to be good for him, just do what he asks, please someone, damn it. Do something right.

I gasp though as all of that stimulation is gone. My eyes pop to his, and down, down, down to the perfect hand on his erection, pace slow, lazy, as if he could care less. My mouth opens, and I ache for that cock to fill it. My own pulses with need, but the need to be needed, to be useful overrides it- Not getting to see Wes though...that makes it a tougher choice, as if there's a choice, and I feel the words rising up in my throat even as I want to beat them down.

He looks gorgeous, a lithe god lost in a shadowed and imperfect word. A Pan come to visit me, only me, and it's only here that I can indulge these fantasies, ignore reality and just be with him, just pretend that it's the two of us, and I can live among something better than trash and back alleys and people dying to make a living.

"I can't," I whisper, showing the ultimate rebellion and reaching up to touch my own cock, thumb smearing pre-come over the head, eyes looking up from under submissive lashes. Something no one, no one see but him. I trust him with those eyes.
Wesley Wyndam-Pryce_wes_pryce_ on February 1st, 2007 09:35 am (UTC)
Oh he really is out to annoy and irritate the bloody hell out of me tonight. Get what he needs because he knew just the right buttons to push. He does know the exact right buttons to push when it comes to me, most of the time. In private. Knew better then to try it professionally, when it’s Detective Callaghan and Mister Pryce.

But he’s really annoying me right now. Part of me wants to just get off him, go to the bathroom and wank off before turning on my heels to get out and leave him here. Needy, wanting, annoying me. He does it for a reason, it’s a game he wants me to play. I game I detest because it’s one I need on occasion. It’s a little uncomfortable to see this man the way he is now though. And if I could I’d thank god on my bare knees there’s no one else who sees him like this.

He’d be destroyed in an instant. And what about you? What if people find out about you? He still has his wife to fall back on, who do you have?

Those thoughts anger me, fuel the ones already going through me at his futile tries.

Grabbing his hands I slam them down on the pillow, pinning him to the mattress. He may be a strong bulk of a man. But I have speed and agility on my side and right now being a little less needy and horny as well.

“Shut up,” I growl through gritted teeth, scooting up his chest far enough that my cock is touching his lips. “Us that mouth for a better things,” I tell him, eyes shooting fire as I look down at him. The moment his mouth, no doubt to talk some more - bastard - I shove my shaft inside halfway, groaning at the heat surrounding already heated flesh.

“And you don’t get to watch,” I pant, looking down at him again, “close your eyes. Now.” It’s hard to find he right balance, keep control, make sure not to hurt him.
Keep Me: angel gets his man_keep_me on February 1st, 2007 01:41 pm (UTC)
It doesn't surprise me when my hands are ripped away from my shaft. Doesn't surprise me that the movements are frustrated, angry, violent. Doesn't surprise me that my pulse races a little too fast. Does surprise me that he actually does it. I know he hates this game. Makes his insides twist. But sometimes I need it, and I can't help wondering if he knows that, or if he thinks I do it to get him angry, maybe try to make him leave and never come back.

There's a frisson of heat that runs down my spine, leaving sweat gliding down the channel of my back as he moves up my chest without preamble. My eyes go to his shaft, devouring it, and when I feel it bump my lips I open my mouth, eager to take more, and he doesn't waste a second before thrusting in. I don't even have time to lick the slick, pre-come coated tip.

I moan loudly around his shaft at finally having something to do, something I can do right, and something I love doing for him. Love his cock in my mouth. I suck at him greedily, licking along the bottom of his thickness with the flat of my tongue before suckling tightly - savoring this - just at the head.

My eyes travel up him, drinking in the flush of his heated skin, the heated erection slipping in and out of my lips, a look of anger and annoyance on his face making my own cock throb. I struggle against his hands, and suck him in deep, wanting more. I want to cup his ass, shove more of him inside me, give him more of my mouth, but he keeps his grip on me, holds me tight. Won't let me fall apart.

I finally, finally do as he asked and close my eyes (too late anyway, my mind supplies, but I ignore it), working his shaft, practically worshipping it, just to get a few words of praise to fall from his lips.
Wesley Wyndam-Pryce_wes_pryce_ on February 1st, 2007 11:11 pm (UTC)
Who would've thought that the great detective Callaghan loves to suck cock. Or that he'd even loves to be with a man. No one, and that's the way it should stay. The only one who knows is me. And the only one who's getting his shaft sucked is me. But not by the great detective Callaghan. No, when we're like this it's Liam and Wes. There's no room for the outside world when we’re like this.

This is our escape. Our only one.

I keep the grip on his hands tight, lacing our fingers together. If I don't he'll fall apart. I've never seen it happen, but I've seen him getting to close far to many times. I don't intent of it to ever happen. I'm not sure if I could handle it. Deal with it. Deep down inside I think I can't deal with it if it were to happen.

I watch him eagerly swallow in my heated erection. Tongue working hot flesh, lips rubbing over sensitive skin, his groan sending vibrations up my spine and tearing an echo of that same groan out of. The anger at William and the whole mess with that wench is still fueling inside me. Perhaps that's the reason I'm thrusting a little rougher then usually into his mouth. Taking, instead of letting him five. Still in control though, can't ever lose control.

Balls tighten and there's a tingle starting in my stomach and up my spine. I watch as he closes his eyes, a surge of added arousal taking me over at the submissiveness in that gesture. "Liam," I pant, feeling myself get closer while he works my cock. "God yes, harder...oh...Christ."

Tight balls draw up, all the tension of the day clumping together like a tight nit ball gathering inside my stomach. One thrust, two, hips frantically yet controlled moving and just like that I can feel myself explode, biting my lip hard to keep from crying out loudly.
Keep Me: angel gets his man_keep_me on February 1st, 2007 11:58 pm (UTC)
I squeeze his hands gratefully when he laces our fingers together. It always seems strange to me that we can find room for tenderness in these strange games we play. It also make me feel not quite so strange that we, in fact, play them.

His thrusts are a little wild, a little rough, and I can tell I've got him. He's not worried about me obeying, he's not worried about my neediness, he's worried about coming. I want him to come. So I let him fuck my mouth, suck my lips around him tight as he pulls out, glide my tongue over him as he thrusts in harshly. It's taken me awhile, but now, I can open my throat, not gag, and take him in deep, swallowing around his sensitive head.

I keep my eyes close, serenely enjoying every second of his charged, nearly brutal treatment. I suck with abandon, groaning at the tension in his voice, the need in it. He needs me. Feeling his thrusts surging faster, I open my throat again and let him slide in deep, all the way until I can smell the musky scent of his curls, and let my teeth scrape his length just before his erection pulses and then I taste his come on my tongue.

Focusing hard on breathing through my nose for the last few moments, once I swallow everything, I relax, taking my time to lick and suckle at his soft length on my tongue, eyes still closed in contentment. He needs me, I think happily, finally realizing that I still have a very hard erection flopped against my belly. Doesn't matter, I think as I take a few more pleased licks.
Wesley Wyndam-Pryce_wes_pryce_ on February 2nd, 2007 12:30 am (UTC)
It's always different and yet the same every time. A fast build up and near to violent explosion wrecking my body when I come. White noise surrounds me and for a moment all I hear is hears breathing and the beat of my own heart. Slowly the worlds rolls back one sensation by one. Sweat rolling down my back, tickling down my spine. Sweat trickling down into my eyes, making me blink. Angel's hands in mine, holding on tightly. The way he keeps sucking my now soft cock.

Letting out a shuddering breath I pry my eyes open and let my chin drop to my chest. I glance down at him, watching him for a moment, his eyes still closed, swollen lips wrapped around my now soft shaft. He's beautiful, gorgeous and so very broken. Does she call you pretty? Or doesn't she call you anything.

"God," I groan, finally pulling out of his mouth. I let go of his hands reluctantly and flop down on my back. Another shuddering breath gets out as I stare up at the ceiling, trying to gather my wits. Buttons. He knows just how to push them, even with he's not trying. I lo-like him for that as much as I hate him for it.

"Told you that you could use that mouth for better things," I murmur, stated and strangely relaxed. Rolling my head to the side I cannot help but smile a little when I notice he still has his eyes closed. I lean in and press a kiss to his mouth, grinning when he eagerly leans into it. "You can open your eyes now."
Keep Me: angel gets his man_keep_me on February 2nd, 2007 12:52 am (UTC)
There's a tiny disappointed sound that escapes me when his cock is gone. Not a whimper, I'm sure of it. He didn't push me that far, I don't think. Seems I pushed just far enough; that anger seems to be gone, or at least at bay for the moment. I can feel him flop on the bed, relaxed, as I taste the absence of him in my mouth. I feel that a lot these days. Lying next to Darla in the dark, some nights when she's fallen asleep before I get home, I can feel where Wes should be. Taste that absence sharp and bitter on my tongue.

"I take it you liked it then? That use of my mouth," I rasp, my throat slightly dry from that use. I can feel the beginnings of a smile returning as I quirk my eyebrow at him, eyes remaining shut for the moment. Not actually sure I can look at him naked and flushed and sated and not come right this second. In a minute though.

After this kiss. I lean into his mouth, eager for the contact, if not the hot, bare skin next to me. He fairly radiates heat, all his blood pumping and things like that. Letting his lips go, I smile at his words. "Really, you're sure you're finished coming? I'd hate to ruin my stint of good behavior." I keep my eyes closed, but I know he's rolling his eyes at me. If he's not, he should be. I can't help the little smirk sliding over my lips though, my hand unconsciously skimming my stomach and heading for my still throbbing erection.
Wesley Wyndam-Pryce_wes_pryce_ on February 2nd, 2007 10:44 am (UTC)
“Hmmm.” It’s a none comitial sound but we both know what it means. I very much enjoyed the use of his mouth and he knows it too. Just as much as he enjoys the use of my mouth. Be it for kissing for…completely other things. I know he doesn’t enjoy my mouth very much when it runs away during a case we’re both on and accidentally meet. Or not so accidentally, when we’re working on the same case we’re bound to run into each other sooner or later.

And pay for it, sooner or later as well.

Rolling over to my side, I lean on my elbow and watch him. For some reason he doesn’t open my eyes when I tell him to, making me frown. Making me wonder if something’s wrong. He doesn’t want to look at you right after sex. Doesn’t want you to see the guilt. Doesn’t want to see his own reflected in yours. Doesn’t want to look at you because he just might hate you then. That thought as per usual makes my chest clench as though some band is being put around it and only gets pulled tighter and tighter.

Abnormal, freak, not of nature. I know what those god fearing men and women say. Father was one of them.

His hand moving away distracts me from those somber thougths, bringing me back to the here and now. I shoot my arm out, fingers curling around his strong wrist and stopping it’s movements. “Is that really the way *you* want to come?” I ask curiously, rubbing my thumb over the soft skin of his wrist. I glance down at his cock, watching it bob up and down with each tiny movement, angry red with need. “And open your bloody eyes, Liam. I want to *see* you.” Stop hiding ever damn times. I can’t take it every damn time.
Keep Me: angel gets his man_keep_me on February 2nd, 2007 12:41 pm (UTC)
I know he was angry before, but the harshness of his tone now has me worried. I turn my head and open my eyes, careful not to look over the whole length of him. The look I see in his eyes tells me enough is enough and it's time for a very different game.

Now that the anger has come off, the worry, the guilt are leaching in. We don't have time for that here. We have precious little time together as it is and I won't have him thinking about all of that while we're here together. I think about it enough every other waking moment. This is my time with him, and he's giving me my due, not thinking about my wife, my son, anybody else. In this room I'm selfish, and right now I want him all to myself.

The brush of his fingers over my wrist makes me want to moan, but now's not the time. He needs something else, I think. Just using the hand holding my wrist, I jerk it hard, trying to pull him back over to me, back on top of me. Manhandle him just a little... "No," I murmur, looking at him with lust-filled eyes, "I want to come inside you." My hands grab his hips to get him straddling me again. "Just thought I'd be polite and let you recooperate, but apparently that's not necessary." This time my eyes do rake down his body. He's probably not likely to come again anyway, I guess. Unfortunate, but I don't know how long I can actually wait. Or how long we have left.

"I think I've been well enough behaved. It's my turn," I growl, eyes full of fire and hopefully a voice to snap him back to the here and now.
Wesley Wyndam-Pryce_wes_pryce_ on February 2nd, 2007 04:44 pm (UTC)
The surprise movements as tugs hard is all it takes for me to roll over and half on top of him. I blink at the sudden change in moods, wondering where that came from. It’s when I feel his hard cock pressing against my tight that I know where at least part of it is coming from. I’m pretty sure it’s not only that though, Liam has a aggressive possessive streak that sometimes surprises me.

The sudden movement also makes me let go of his wrist as I stare down at him. There’s fire in his eyes, and lust and this clear neediness of want, want, want. As per usual it takes my breath away until I remember myself that it’s just sex. It’s just sex and nothing else. Which is why you enjoy those moments you’re holding onto each other after sex so much more, isn’t it?

It’s just sex and nothing more.

“Oh? You do hmmm?” I let him grasp my hips, moving along side his none to gentle pushing until I’m straddling him. My soft cock brushes against his, making him gasp. I’ll have to be careful here or there it’ll be over before he gets his wish. Scooting back a bit so no part of my body is touching his cock I raised my eyebrow at him. Neither of us is a young as we used to be, so our recovery time isn’t either.

And yet it’s funny how many rounds of ‘its just sex’ we manage in one night if we *want* to.

“And what are you going to do if *I *don’t behave?” I ask quizzically, playing him the way I always do. “Did you even bring any supplies?” Because I’m afraid I’ve not thought of it. Unfortunately. He might, since he was the one who initiated the ‘meeting’ this time.
Keep Me: angel gets his man_keep_me on February 2nd, 2007 06:47 pm (UTC)
"We're you planning on misbehaving? Because if that's the case... I'm sure I must have my handcuffs somewhere..." It's an empty ploy, we both know I could have him incapacitated without the cuffs. I think we also both know Wes would simply hold his hands away himself if it really came to that. I get the idea sometimes that no matter what I asked, he would probably do it, or try it. In here. In the bedroom. Out there, there's no telling. I know there's a stubborn streak in him a mile wide, and I've come up against it hard - this time being no exception - several times in fact. It's not often we both work the same case, but even when we don't, we both have our own ideas about the law. And what punishment might mean.

"Supplies though, those are in my-" I gasp at his unintentional rub against me, "my- uhh, jacket, suit jacket pocket." My head is swimming and it's all I can do not to chant, 'don't come, don't come,' out loud. I do find myself wondering at the question though. When has he ever found me to be not prepared? Being inside him...it's addictive. I'm not sure which I love more, sucking his cock, or taking his ass, but either way, it's hard to get enough of him. Now that I have him. Though, I very often wonder if I do have him. If I can have him.

But he's here, on top of me, giving me that look, so he's not so far away as my brain likes to think. "Besides, I don't think I said there was anything you couldn't do...yet," I make a not so subtle glance to the limp cock resting on my thigh. We'll see if I can't make him come again in spite of himself.
Wesley Wyndam-Pryce_wes_pryce_ on February 2nd, 2007 11:14 pm (UTC)
A snort gets out at that empty threat. And it’s a very empty one because that would strangely enough bring his work into our little denial bubble. We’d use ties, or our belts if we’re in one of those moods, but never those blasted handcuffs of his. It’s especially revolting because I know he’s used them on William. In a whole different capacity of course… was it only last week I had to bail my dear brother out of jail? Again? I think it was.

It’s practically once per week if Liam wouldn’t let him off on minor things to often. He’d deny that until the day he’d die, but I know better.

“Maybe I am,” I tell him, narrowing my eyes. They twinkle at the gasp he gives and I know I still have the upper hand here. Of course since I’m not the one with the imminent problem any longer, that’s not all that difficult. “Maybe I plan to misbehave quite a lot. You made it look like such fun.”

Sitting back on my heels, I look at him from under my eyelashes, not making any movement to get the supplies. The fact that neither of us are randy teenagers also gives us the benefit of control over our… needs. Wants. Well, for a moment longer then they do at any rate. “You didn’t say anything I *could* do either,” I point out, letting my eyes roam over his body. Not enough light, always hiding in the shadows. Ashamed of who we are, and yet needing it so very much.
Keep Me: angel gets his man_keep_me on February 2nd, 2007 11:47 pm (UTC)
Good. He's in a normal enough mood to snort at my teasing. I know just how intense things can get between us, and now that I feel more on an even keel, I intend to take advantage of that.

Lord, I don't know how it's possible for him to look so hot, giving me the same submissive eyes I just gave him, but it is. Sin is right there sitting on my lap. Nearly sitting on my cock which is where I want him to be. Those roving eyes, they make me want to shiver again, but I don't. This is my turn, and I'm not letting him take an inch.

I raise an eyebrow at his cocky mouth. Oh, really. We're playing *that* game then? "Get your tie. And mine," I say, voice dark and low and very much not about to take no for answer. If we're going to play this game, then we better well play it.

My hands grab his hips before he can move away and I sit up for hard, rough kiss, thrusting my tongue into his mouth the same way I plan to with other parts of our bodies later, until our breathing is ragged and I can feel my control edging away from me.

Detaching my fingers from where they dug into his hips, I twist and grab for my jacket over the side of the bed. Fingers reaching, reaching, searching, and finally I find it. The condom, and the small vial of lubricant. It can be a trick to carry around, but so far, so good. Anybody asks, it's just mineral oil for cleaning my gun. Handy, being a copper sometimes.
Wesley Wyndam-Pryce_wes_pryce_ on February 3rd, 2007 12:12 am (UTC)
And there is the look I’d been aiming for on his face. I can’t help but grin a little bit smug at the raised eyebrow. We push and push and push until one day one of us is going to break. But for now we both seem to know exactly how far we can go, and where we shouldn’t be taking this. One day though, one day, one of us will. And we both know it.

“Pushy,” I mumble, moving to slide back and get what he’s asking for. Before I can move though he startles me by sitting up quickly and catching my lips with his. I groan into his mouth, eyes closing on their own accord. My hands hover uselessly by my side as though they can’t decide where to go and thus stay where they are. By the time he pulls back, my lips are bruised and tingling while I’m panting for air.

It’s his jerk to the side that brings me out of my trance. Bloody hell, how does he *do* that all the time? A quick shake of my head to clear my mind and then I’m scooting off of the bed myself. Finding his tie and then padding over to grab mine, I walk back to the bed with a self-consciousness I don’t have around anyone else. Stoic, reliable, uptight, that’s what they usually say. There’s nothing of that left in this room.

I move back on the bed, sitting on my knees as I hold out the ties toward him. “That is really a very… un-fashionable tie,” I point out, giving it a strange look. I’m sure Darla didn’t get him this one. I didn’t either, even though I sometimes have the urge to get him…things. That can never be though. Ever. “Do you really think now is the time for me to teach you to Windsor knot your tie?” I ask cheekily, blank expression in place.
Keep Me: angel gets his man_keep_me on February 3rd, 2007 01:03 am (UTC)
My eyes pause on the faint blooms of bruises already starting on his hips. It's sad, I can mark him, but he can never mark me. Darla would figure it out. Too much risk. Even marking Wes can be a risk. That little firecracker, Willow, is far too much the detective for her own good. I have to take care with his neck even though that's always where I want to suck and bite the most.

"Back on my lap, Tiger," I growl at him and his cheeky remarks. "Now, the question is, do I blindfold you, or gag you for all this mouthing off to your elders? Because one of these is going around yours wrists. You don't get to touch while I take you." That's not normally something I feel the urge to give up, because I lo- really like him touching me, but the thought of him, arms bound behind him, helpless as I do as I like... I think he might need that as much as I do.

"I think," I say, drawing it out, and not letting him get a word in edgewise, "I want you blind, because that mouth is too useful to give up," taking the ties from him, once he's settled on my lap, I drag the end of one down his chest, flicking it over a nipple. I lean in close, letting him feel my breath on his neck as I reach around behind him with the tie, dragging his wrists with me, I give a lick up the side of his neck and suck on his earlobe. "Besides, I like hearing what I do to you," I whisper, fingers knotting his tie blindly, but surely around his wrists. Tight enough to squeeze, but not cut off the circulation. "You'll tell me when you like something," I order softly, teeth nipping at his ear, something sinister creeping into my voice.

The blindfold is slightly more difficult, just because I hate the idea of not being able to see his face if I hurt him, but I wrap the silken tie around his eyes. It was an impulse. It reminded me of him, and I blew through such a wad of cash that I had to grab three extra side jobs to cover so Darla wouldn't be mad. He couldn't make me give it up even if he told me it was hideous.

"Perfect," I murmur against his throat, hands petting his sides, feeling the tight whipcord muscles underneath. "You are going to make me come so hard," I mumble to myself, unable to keep from tugging a sliver of his throat between my teeth, mouthing at the skin, predator to prey.
Wesley Wyndam-Pryce_wes_pryce_ on February 3rd, 2007 02:36 am (UTC)
“Yes, Sir,” I give him a vague salute and grin at his command. Ties still in hand I crawl back over to him and slide onto his lap. There I wait patiently for what I know will come next. It’s not a surprise, we’ve played this game a hundred times before. Not often, and that alone gives me a jolt of awareness about how *long* we’ve been meeting each other in obscure, dark and unknown hotelrooms.

I let him ramble on, the only visible sign that I’m listening is a quirk of an eyebrow. Ignoring the shiver that goes through me at his words is a little bit more difficult to ignore but I do manage eventually. I’m sure he’s noticed, but he’s to busy spelling out exactly what he’s planning to do to me. Do me. Whichever, it’s all the same.

He takes the ties, still laying out his plans and for a moment I’m reminded of those bad characters in those god awful books Willow reads. They always seem to lay out their nefarious plans just before they set their plans of world destruction in motion. Of course Liam has no nefarious plans, just plans for some very good sex.

“So, no Windsor knot then?” I ask innocently, letting him tie my wrist behind my back. This time there’s no denying the shudder running through me at that move. I can feel the control slipping, only have my smart arse remarks to keep a hold on it but even then I can feel it slipping away. He pulls back and our eyes meet for a long moment, gazing at each other with such intensity that I have to swallow.

Which is when he bring up the other tie. My eyes close and I feel the silk slip around my head and the world goes dark. All I have left now is my voice and I’m currently not exactly trusting that one. Especially not when he starts to suck and nip my neck. A groan gets out at the same time alarm bells ring in my head.

“Liam,” I gasp, trying to pull away slightly when I really don’t want to. “No visible marks.”
Keep Me: angel gets his man_keep_me on February 3rd, 2007 08:39 pm (UTC)
My eyes narrow at him and his yes sir-ing. Hate it when he does that. The sarcasm always rubs me the wrong way, and he knows it. That's what makes tying his hands away so easy. That and the shudder. Fucking beautiful, this man. Don't know how he's still single.

If we weren't... I might have offered to fix him up with someone. Or maybe nudged that sweetheart Cordelia at him. But he's mine- he's here with me, and I don't plan on letting that change any time soon. Especially not with the way he groans from my mouth, arching his neck into it, such sweet skin and-

"No marks," I promise, well aware of the issues at hand. Doesn't mean I can't play, does it? Besides I know how much it undoes him. "Maybe not so visible marks, though," I murmur wickedly, taking my teeth and mouth lower, teasing his collarbone with a sharp scrape of my teeth. He does his collar up all the way all the time anyway. It's part of that uptight image that never did fool me.

I lick and tease and nip as much as I can stand, making light red marks all over his chest until I find a nipple to curl my tongue around. I tug at it sharply between my teeth, before releasing it to look up at his blindfold face. Honestly, I don't know how I'm being so patient, only that I want more of him tonight. The world is on its ass and I'm going to have just this one thing just this once. Just this one man. Just the way I want him.

My hand reaches blindly for the oil, twisting off the top and dripping some into my fingers, carefully setting it aside, and then pressing him up tight against me, one hand reaching around to slide between his cheeks, slick some of that oil where it needs to be. "Wes," I find myself moaning softly, my other hand cupping his ass, keeping him spread wide, exposed only for me.
Wesley Wyndam-Pryce_wes_pryce_ on February 3rd, 2007 09:28 pm (UTC)
The blindfold thing isn’t something I want to do to often. It’s only on those rare occasions I know he needs it, otherwise it wouldn’t happen at all. I hate the dark, I’m afraid of the dark. Which is strange for someone in my profession, but usually I have all faculties with me when I’m in the dark. Now my hands are tied, I’m naked and unbalanced.

Sitting there on my knees, straddling him and not knowing what’s to come takes a large amount of trust. Something that took painstakingly long to build up between the two of us but there you have it.

His mouth moves down and away from my throat where a mark would be oh so clearly visible. I could say it’s from a girl, but William isn’t a fool and neither is Cordelia. Even if they wouldn’t figure it out, the teasing would drive me up the wall and make me extremely…testy. So I’m rather glad that he moves down to much more pleasant places.

I find myself swaying a bit, head lolling back on my neck when he attacks my chest instead. “Liam,” I groan, already panting for air. “God…you…ah!” My body arches into his mouth and I have to fight to keep my balance with my hands out of commission. Nothing to hold onto, nothing to touch, just the way he wants it.

My head suddenly fills with a sense of vertigo when he pulls me tighter to him. I can feel myself nearly dropping to the left and quickly spread my legs to keep the balance. Wouldn’t be very arousing if I were to fall off of him now, even if the thought makes me grin.

A grin that’s quickly replaced by a look of concentration and pure lust when I feel his hands spread the cheeks of my rear and a slick finger tracing my entrance. “Liam…please,” I mumble, trying to press down and get that finger where it’s supposed to be right now.
Keep Me: angel gets his man_keep_me on February 4th, 2007 04:49 am (UTC)
I love that right now, Wesley Wyndam Pryce is totally dependent on me. There's just something about seeing a man so wholly independent brought down to a mere mortal that has a part of me feeling very smug. It's not often he'll let me do this so he must know, must sense something that I need this. And I do. Need to be needed tonight.

"Yes?" I prompt him as he groans out my name. Perfect. So perfect just for me. I tug sharply at his other nipple, squeezing and thumbing the previous one. So responsive. Beautiful. Forbidden. A sin. Many sins.

My hands fly to his waist when I feel him about to go off-balance. Totally dependent. "Please, what?" I say quietly against his ear, my chest pressed to his as my finger traces and circles and teases him. I can feel him pressing, and yes, I do know what he wants, but I want to hear it. Hear him say it.

One hand latches around his wrists and squeezes, pulls his arms down even a little bit more, pushing his chest out, making his back arch. What a sight. He would hate seeing himself like this. Hence the blindfold. I know I'm pushing him enough just getting him to do these things for me, he shouldn't have to watch.

My finger presses, pressing until I breach him. "Tell me what you want," I say harshly, finger sliding in deeper, but pulling out before he can get anything more pleasurable from that touch. "Tell me, Wes," I murmur, mouth returning to suckle at his throat lightly. Not enough to bruise the skin. Just enough to...encourage his mouth.
Wesley Wyndam-Pryce_wes_pryce_ on February 4th, 2007 02:38 pm (UTC)
He’s pushing and he’s pushing to far. He knows it too, because he tries this every time he gets me in this position. And everytime I wonder why I let him do this to me when he knows how much I hate it. It’s humiliating, degrading and reminds me far, far to much of England. About what happened there. There’s a reason I stayed behind here in America and didn’t return. My father only being one of the reasons.

I don’t cope well with humiliation and degradation. I don’t cope well with shame and loss of control.

So his demands that I tell him what I want make me bristle inside, just like he knew it would. I can feel myself fighting the urge to climb off of him and demand he let me go. Now. Or else. He would, I know he would, but it would ruin any trust we’ve build up between us. Which is why it puzzles me that he keep doing this anyway. What’s he trying to see? How much it would take to break me? And then what? He gets to go home to his lovely family and I get to go home to nothing?

“Liam,” I warn him with a tone in my voice I’m sure he’ll recognize. A growl gets turned into a gasp when he pulls my arms down and our chests closer together. My mouth falls open as I pant for air at the same time he pushes a finger inside. I’m already giving him this, he can’t have any more. “No,” I get out through gritted teeth. “I will not…oh god… Liam….please.” And that’s the only thing he’ll get out of me. Please.
Keep Me: angel gets his man_keep_me on February 4th, 2007 07:43 pm (UTC)
I know I'm pushing, I know I'm asking for too much. Asking for things he can't say. But I want it. I need to hear something that tells me we're not just... That I haven't broken all of my vows for nothing. I tug at his arms more, looking for some part of him that I can control. My finger slides in deep and I scrape his skin with my teeth just below his collarbone. Invisible marks, invisible connection.

I can't push him any further. I hear the warning. I just hate that it's there. That maybe he doesn't trust me after all. Doesn't want me after all.

He's begging, Liam, shouldn't that be enough?

"That's enough," I say, no tone to my voice, not wanting to give anything away and make this worse. I pull the tie off his eyes and loop it around his mouth. Can't talk. Can't say what you don't want to. "I was the one who wanted to talk anyway, hmm," I give him a half smile, feeling again a wash of not being enough. Not enough for him, not enough for anyone. Spread too thin. I slide in another finger, and another, silently preparing him, silently taking what I want, eyes never leaving his. I lean aside to fumble for the condom, brain flipping a horrified switch at the thought that there could be someone else. He *could* move on. I don't-

"I want you," I murmur, positioning his hips, holding him up while I find the right position to ease inside him. It's the warmest thing I can say. The warmest thing Wes will let me say. He told me a long time ago that this could never be anything more... He wouldn't be a homewrecker. I wouldn't *let* him be. Catholics don't believe in divorce. They don't believe in this either. Darla out of the picture wasn't going to happen. Doesn't mean there weren't times when I had a bizarre wish that I could have it both ways. Have my family, *and* love him. Have him be part of my family.

"I want you," I murmur again, the tie thankfully keeping him from saying anything in response as I press inside of him achingly slowly until I'm buried in him, hands tight on his hips. "I need you," I whisper into his neck, thrusting up into him whether he's ready or not.
Wesley Wyndam-Pryce_wes_pryce_ on February 5th, 2007 05:10 am (UTC)
The moment he say that’s enough, I can feel fear surge through me. That he’ll be the one to up and leave because I can’t give him what he wants, needs. Bet Darla can. Right. And that’s why he’s here with me and not at home with her isn’t’ it? There’s still that fear that clings onto me that he’ll just up and leave, leave me here bound and blindfolded because I can’t give him what he wants.

I’m paranoid, I know that. But it’s kept me alive so far.

When he pulls the blindfold down though, I blink at the suddenly light in my eyes, even if it’s dim. Blinking in confusion, I look at him, trying to gauge his mood. There’s only heat there, and lust and want, want, want. My mouth opens to ask him what’s wrong at the same time he pulls the tie down and prevents me from speaking. “Hmpt?”

What the… Eyes narrow at him, questioning him about the meaning of *that* particular move. It’s not new, but rather unexpected and I’m not sure what he’s trying to tell me. Liam can be selfish, I know that. But I also know it’s usually a lot of build up frustration. I’m not a whore though, I don’t like being used. What we have is so much more then that, even though there are moment I have my doubts. Sometimes I wonder if I’m only a body he shags to get off and nothing else. Not that there ever can be anything else…

…I’m trying to fool myself here again. You are so much more.

Our eyes are locked while he keeps pushing his finger inside, making me bite down on the tie between my teeth. There are no noises now, and the ones that do come out are muffled by the tie. The only noises in the room is my heavy breathing and Liam’s words. I can’t even say them back, he’s just taking what he needs right now. Wrists keep trying to pull the bonds away. There will be bruises, but I’ll worry later about the need to wear shirts with extra tight cuffs to make sure the sleeves wont ride up my arms.

Eyes narrow when I hear the tear of a condom wrapper, - he certainly came fully prepared again - it doesn’t take him long to prepare himself and then he’s suddenly pushing inside me. I feel my eyes flutter closed, sweat breaking out and my arms struggling to get lose, body trying to balance and keep upright. Before I have time to adjust he’s already puling out and thrusting inside. A cry gets muffled once more by the tie, narrowed eyes go wide as I look at him with something akin to shock before self preservation takes over.

He takes what he wants, I take what I want. The two are not always necessarily the same, doesn’t mean neither of us gets what he wants at one point in time. So I just slide my legs a little wider, better balance while he can reach more, clench around his throbbing cock and let him do whatever he wants. Needs. I can at least give him that.
Keep Me: angel gets his man_keep_me on February 6th, 2007 01:02 am (UTC)
I hear the muffled cry behind soft fabric, but I don't stop. I thrust in deep and only then do I stop to let him adjust, let his breathing catch up.

I know I hurt him. I always hurt him. It's what I do, being with him. Yet, I can't stop myself. I know...for once in my life, I'm the soft one in the relationship, the one asking, hoping for feelings when I shouldn't, but there's something about him... He demands it, silently, eyes full unfulfilled desires, unanswered wishes. I see them there even if he doesn't want anyone to. I know what I feel, and I can't help it, can't stop it, and can't make it disappear.

I look at him as I start to move again, hands pulling his hips, taking him as I like, and I know I'm all over the map tonight. I can't make sense of it, but I don't care, I need him. My hand leaves his hip as I thrust inside him again, tugging the tie from his mouth, I kiss him hard, needy, and without shame. My hands go to his wrists and release him there too. I don't care, I don't care about our games. I want to hear him, want to feel him, want him here with me.

Tearing my mouth from his I start a steady, unrelenting rhythm, our sweat-slicked bodies sliding together, my hands slipping on his skin, my cock pressing and pulling in and out of him without cease.

The room fills with heaving, panting breaths, and I whisper, "Be with me," the sound disappearing in the frenzy of skin slapping together and air rushing from our bodies.
Wesley Wyndam-Pryce_wes_pryce_ on February 6th, 2007 05:06 am (UTC)
There will be bruises on my hips as well as on my wrists come morning, I know this for a fact. It’s moments like these that I detest the fact that I cannot show my mark on him too, in any way. But he’s not mine. He’s not mine to have, mine to take, mine to need. He’s only mine to borrow from time to time and then only mostly his body. There can never be anything else.

Sometimes I wonder if he too, wants more. Needs more. I never ask though, to afraid of the answer. Be it yes or now.

Instead I give him what he needs, wants, takes. Let myself believe it’s what I need and want myself. It certainly feels good when his cock brushes against that spot inside me that makes me see starts. It’s that exact spot he its at the same time he tugs the tie from my mouth and I end up gasping for air. At first I breath in and out widely through my nose, not realizing my mouth is free to do the same.

It’s not until I feel his lips claim mine brutally that I know he’s pulled it away. Then I feel my arms set free as well, unbalancing me while he keeps thrusting into the tight heat or my body. Both hands fly out and slam down next to his shoulder so I don’t fall off of him and ruin the moment. He lets me up for air and I blink at him confused. Sometimes he moves so fast from one mood to the next, it’s hard to keep up.

Very hard.

His pace gets more frantic, his touches more desperate. I’m panting for air, raising myself up and then down on my knees to meet his wild thrusts. The echoes of our love making - it’s just sex - bounces off walls as does his plea. “I am with you,” I grow, after swallowing to get my throat working several times. Spreading my legs even wider, I thread my fingers through is hair and tug his head back, exposing his neck. My mouth attacks his jugular, not hard enough to leave a mark, but hard enough for him to notice my touching him.
Keep Me: angel gets his man_keep_me on February 7th, 2007 01:39 am (UTC)
I'm happy that I took the tie away from him when I see his face as I brush that sensitive spot inside him. He's a beautiful man, hidden under all that starch and manners. Gruff and intense - okay, I might have just described myself - but still a gentleman, still proper and hidden away. Not like this though. It's the moments like this that I actually get to see him, and he can't hide behind risks or worries, or propriety. He's bare for me.

He says he's with me, but that's a lie and we both know it. He's never going to be with me. He can't. Can't afford it. It'll break his heart. And I would never want to do that. I can't bear the thought of seeing him a broken man, even though I know some day it will come to that.

My hand slips between us once I feel his grip tighten on my shoulders, and I stroke him roughly, tightly, trying to keep him with me, keep him at my pace. I keep working him, only-

"Wes," I cry when he jerks my head back as I thrust in, so close, so close and then the bite of his teeth at my throat- "Wes!" I shout, just barely biting my tongue from saying something I shouldn't. That is precisely why this is so dangerous. The throes of passion are where things get muddy, and why he should keep a gag on me more often. I thrust up into him until I lose momentum, and my cock softens too much and I'm just rolling my hips against him, lost in the sensation, my hand still stripping him. "Wesley," I murmur, head dropping onto his shoulder when my body finally stops everything but some harsh breathing.
Wesley Wyndam-Pryce_wes_pryce_ on February 7th, 2007 05:58 am (UTC)
A small cry gets out when his hand finds its way between our bodies. I'm actually surprised to find myself semi-hard again since I hadn't been concentrating on my own pleasure. It would seem I didn't have to, my body has a mind on its own. Especially where Liam is concerned it would seem. It's amazing the things he can achieve by just a touch, a look, a word.

"Oh...Oh Christ," I curse under my breath against his neck, clamping down on him hard. I can feel his cock throbbing inside of me, the head bumping against that spot over and over again. He's getting closer, but so I am. Neither of us are very old, but we're not young any more either. Two guys on their way to one of those midlife crisis’s .

Moving my hands to his shoulders, I hold on tight and sit up somewhat for better leverage. Our pace grows frantic, hard, wild and it's all I can do to hold on for the ride. Literally. I watch his face contort as he pushes into me once, twice and then his entire face freezes, as does his body. His fist around my cock squeezes just tight enough for me to have a small climax, but mostly I'm to busy watching his face.

The way he says, screams, whispers my name.

"Liam," I murmur, finally unable to keep myself up any longer. I lover myself ontop of him, wanting to feel him inside me for as long as possible. Wanting to feel him when I'm alone in my apartment. Wanting to feel *something*. "Bloody hell," I pant, our sweat slicked bodies cooling down as we lay there. I should probably move and get the covers, but moving means he may slip out. And I don't want that yet. Ever.
Keep Me: angel gets his man_keep_me on February 7th, 2007 11:11 pm (UTC)
I feel Wes nudge me, and I fall back onto the bed, him going along with me, but more slowly. Slowly... I don't quite understand until I feel him scoot back just a fraction of an inch, clenching around my cock. Oh. I cant my hips up to try to slide in just a little deeper in our new position.

"Wes," I murmur, hands sliding around his back, holding him close, the way I shouldn't, and stroking his damp skin, muscles otherwise exhausted. I'm a little surprised he's letting me hold him, and he's wanting me in him after all of that. But I don't mind, and I'm not going to question it. Out loud, anyway. I do wonder if perhaps, that was really meant to be a hint to get out of him, but since he's never done that yet, I'm more inclined to go with history than to disrupt it.

I have to bite my lip hard to keep from saying the usual blissed out after-sex things that I say to Darla, like, I love you, among others. It happens every time. Some days I wish it wouldn't ever happen again, those same days, I hate myself for wishing that.

My hands move from his back into his hair, stroking and curling into the short strands there shocked with sweat. "You alright?" I ask, just like every other time. "Didn't hurt you, did I?" No more than the usual pain of heartache, anyway.

Between the condom and the oil, it's hard to stay in him, and I know I'm going to slip out soon. Some nights, I think it might be nice to just stay hard, and be inside him, lying there behind him with my arms around him. I doubt he would ever let me do that. Too close to caring, too close to loving, more like, and way too close to saying things you might regret.
Wesley Wyndam-Pryce_wes_pryce_ on February 8th, 2007 05:31 am (UTC)
The moment his arms circle around me, which isn't all that new since the last few months, I still tense a little. An old habit kept for the days I had to sneak around with others then Liam. Many others and luckily not here. No, that was back in the land of disgrace, disloyalty and dishonor. If my father is to believe. My father apparently loves D words.

When he cants his hips up though and pushes his softening cock in further I feel my body relax again. As though it automatically recognizes Liam without failure. Wouldn't surprise me, he's the only one who's touched me in years. It would surprise me if my body wouldn't recognize him. It's not love though, I keep telling myself, it's just sex. Nothing more then sex. Even if the part we're doing now belies that so very much.

We're getting to old for him rushing out of bed, getting a shower and running back to his wife. To old for me to lay in bed, listen to the shower and feel so very alone while the slam of the door shutting will echo in my ears for days afterwards. To old for sneaking around too, but that's not really an option.

"Hmmm," I murmur, unable to keep the small sigh from escaping when I feel his fingers weave into my hair. My own hands are curled around his broad shoulders as though I'm afraid he'll leave already and wont let me at least have this. This moment both of us are trying to ignore, deny, keep.

My eyes blink open at his question and the reply is out before I even have to think about it. "I'm fine, Liam. You didn't hurt me." Liar. It hurt, but no more then usual when one of us is desperate. I'll have some more bruises to hide, I realize as I glance up to my wrist, there will be more on my hips, my chest. And he'll have none, no proof that I'm in his live whatsoever. Other then this moment. This moment that's mine and mine alone when I have him.

"Are you alright?"

I don't love him. It's just sex.
Keep Me: angel gets his man_keep_me on February 8th, 2007 06:14 am (UTC)
Secretly? I like the way he clutches my shoulders. He actually feels relaxed when he does that in our moments together. I feel like it's the one moment of our visits that he lets his guard down and fully trusts me to prevent anything from happening to us and this fragile little arrangement. I suppose he likes to have control the rest of the time, not necessarily that he doesn't trust me. Not that I would ask that of him. I've got no right. He's trusting me enough as it is just to not screw things up for him. If people found out...

But this is our time. I'm not thinking about other people right now.

His answer is a lie, and it's always a lie. One I expect, and to some extent, rely on. If he didn't say he was fine, then I would at least know something was really wrong that he was trying to keep from me. At least this way I know it's only the usual things that he tries to keep from me.

"Yeah. I'm alright," I say quietly. Not really alright. Nothing close to alright, but he helps. Days like this, he helps. "Rough day," I say, giving him the barest of explanations, and fairly certain it will be left at that. He doesn't want to know, doesn't need to know how far I sink sometimes when things are rough. Just like I'm sure there's plenty he keeps from me when I know things must be much worse. "Sorry for the..." What? The insane urge to fuck him hard and urgent with little control? The need to control and be controlled if only for a few moments? "The roughness," I say without too much of a pause.

My hands continue stroking and carding through his hair. So soft, so...different from Darla's hair. Actually, I'd probably be lucky if I got anything like these kinds of moments with her. I'm more likely to get the rough sex than this sweet time afterwards.

I press a kiss to his temple, not really thinking about it, and reach out an arm to grab some of the blanket we're lying on and pull it around us. Not perfect, but he won't freeze this way. I get to have his body heat flow into me, but I know his back gets cold. Constant battle, keeping us both the right temperature. We seem to agree that being warm is good though. Better than being left out in the cold. Alone.
Wesley Wyndam-Pryce: Maffia Ferret (Lostgirlslair)_wes_pryce_ on February 8th, 2007 03:13 pm (UTC)
Continued Here