BLURRING THE LINES.
"Does Wesley know that you come here, that you're doing... this?" Lilah smirks; she clearly knows the answer. Fred's fascinated by her as much as she's revolted, and there's the kick – Lilah's all hard edges made harder by death, but wrapped up in beautiful, soft curves and smooth skin the colour of ivory. It's enough to make a girl's head spin.
"What do you think?" Fred snaps at her, agitated. She's not here for a verbal sparring match; she'd lose anyhow, that's Lilah's territory.
Lucky for her, that's the last they speak that night.
...
It's difficult, Fred thinks, being married to a man like Wesley. Oh, don't get her wrong, Wesley's a good man; she really does love him, she does, but sometimes it's like he doesn't really see her. To him she's fragile, innocent, something to be handled with delicacy and care like his grandma's china plates. And quite frankly, it's bullshit.
She's tried to make him see, of course, but he just doesn't seem to get it. His persistent belief in her purity would be quite touching if it wasn't so infuriating – Fred was trapped in a hell dimension for five years. That does things to a person, and even before then it's not like she was some innocent little girl. As much as she loves him, she just can't be who Wesley wants her to be, but he can't accept that she's anything other than that.
He puts her on this impossible pedestal, and it makes her want to scream sometimes.
She thinks that's what drove her to seek out Lilah, that first night. She marches into the dead woman's office,
I want you to show me.
Show you what?
How Wesley fucked you.
and nothing's quite the same again.
...
It comes as a bit of a surprise to Lilah, how good Fred is at this. She moans, spreading her legs further for the other woman as she feels Fred's lips trail down her navel teasingly. Lilah digs her nails into Fred's hair, urging her down impatiently, and Fred laughs against the curve of Lilah's stomach.
Of course, it all started as a big fuck-you to Wes; watch as your whore makes your trophy wife come harder than she ever does with you, you son of a bitch. Except actually, she doesn't really give a shit about sticking it to Wes, her principle of sticking it to as many people as possible aside – and weirdly enough, the twig's grown on her. It's not love, obviously, but it's not – ooh, yeah, right there – about Wesley anymore. Honestly, Lilah's not sure what it's about. It's just hot, and her sex life hasn't exactly been flourishing post-mortem: she's not about to pass up on the prospect of a pretty girl in her bed.
Or on her desk.
...or that one time, when Wesley was working late, and Fred went home early for the day, making a quick stop to pick Lilah up first...