Lilah smirks as she slips the shreds of nylon that was a stalking off of her leg and tosses them on to Wesley’s still sweat slicked chest. He ignores them completely, staring into the ceiling, eyes and mouth set hard.

Pathetic little thing. He might as well buy a leather jacket and a bunch of tight black sweaters. He already has the shades drawn at noon.

The first time she’d wound up here it was for the simple pleasure of winning. Wesley couldn’t resist the temptation to hurt himself a little bit more and sleeping with the enemy was an obvious outlet for that self hatred. And for Lilah, the multiple explosive orgasms that she’d never expected out of the clumsy, permanent-pressed, Watcher was just the bonus to the pleasure she got from knowing that he was performing penance on her.

That’s why she’d come back for more. His anger, his loathing, his need to be punished. The more she goaded him the harder and faster he went, the longer he lasted, and she went through taunt after taunt before landing on the subject that brought the most pain out of him.

Lilah pulls a fresh pair of nylons out of her purse, and slides them up over her legs. Wesley ignores her, still brooding into the ceiling.

“So, I hear Cordelia is back from on high and shacking up with wonder boy,” She purrs, “Shame Angel doesn’t ask you to babysit too.”

Wesley’s stone expression gets even harder at the name. Like it does every time. As she does the buttons on her shirt, Lilah wonders if Wesley even cares that she’s figured it out.