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TITLE:
Unchained Melody
Unchained
Melody Wesley
unplugged the cd player where Fred had left it earlier before heading upstairs.
He had seen the way she moved, so very carefully, as if every muscle hurt. He
hated that, seeing her hurt. Checking to see that the machine had batteries, Wes
picked it up and headed for his office. Setting the player down on the desk, he
unlocked and rummaged in a desk drawer, finally finding what he was looking for:
a rather plain, cream colored bottle. Tucking the bottle into his shirt pocket,
Wes tucked a cd into the player, dropping the case onto his desk. Working
quickly, he programmed the player with the tracks he wanted, then picked it up. Crossing
the lobby, he locked both sets of doors and flicked off the lights, leaving on
the small counter lamp. Working from memory, Wes climbed the stairs and headed
down the dark hallway to Fred’s room. He hoped that she wouldn’t think badly
of him, but he needed to ease the pain she was in, assure himself that she was
okay. Reaching her door, he tapped lightly on it and cautiously opened it when
he didn’t receive an answer. He expected to find her asleep, fully planned on
leaving; however, what he saw instead dismayed him. Low
on Fred’s back and normally hidden by her shirts were the narrow, criss-cross
scars of a whipping. Wes recognized those marks, knew well the type of beating
that would leave such scars. He shuddered; the mere thought of her being beaten
like that angered him. Quietly setting the cd player on the floor, Wes closed
the door behind him. He could only stare at her. The
click the door made as it swung closed caused Fred to jump, then moan in pain as
her muscles protested the movement. She carefully craned her head around to see
who had disturbed her, figuring it was Angel coming to check on her. As she
shifted, her eyes met Wes’ over her shoulder. “Wesley?” she asked quietly,
wondering at the expression on his face. “Who
hurt you?” Wes murmured, crossing the room to join her on the bed. Perching on
the edge of the bed, he slowly reached for her, lightly trailing his fingers
over the scars. “Fred?” He questioned, softly, “You do know I’d never
hurt you?” He rested his hand on the small of her back, brushing her hair over
her shoulder with the other. Absently, he began kneading the back of her neck as
he watched her eyes, wishing he hadn’t asked the question as he saw them
darken with memories. “I
know.” Fred started to say more, but moaned instead as his gentle touch on her
neck made some of the tension ease. When he stopped, she whimpered, “Don’t
stop, please.” “You
like it, then?” Wes questioned, taking his hand from her back and tugging the
shirt off her wrists where it had been resting since his interruption. “Lie
down for me, love.” Wes tossed Fred’s shirt onto the floor, shifting off the
bed to tug off his shirt. He retrieved the bottle from the shirt’s pocket,
setting it on the bedside table before tossing the shirt onto the floor with
hers. Fred whimpered behind him, and he turned to see her struggling with her
jeans. Stepping up behind her, he tugged her back against him. “Shh.. let me
help.” Fred
whimpered again, closing her eyes as she felt Wes shift her hands out of the way
so that he could undo the snap on her jeans. “Hurts,” Fred whimpered.
“Everything hurts.” “I
know,” Wes whispered in Fred’s ear, his hands busy with her jeans. “I know
and I’m sorry.” He stroked her skin for a moment before returning to his
self-appointed task. Shoving at the fabric, he managed to get the jeans mostly
off of her. He felt her tense, to start to shift away from him, and he let her
move. It was her slow, pain-ridden movements that bothered him, reminded him of
the disastrous events of earlier in the evening. Images,
clear as crystal, ran through Wes’ head. Fred being flung across the sewer
tunnel, slumping at the base of the wall, barely conscious. The demon grabbing
her to use as a shield, dragging her up by her hair. Fred’s wide, terrified
eyes staring at him, begging him, so trusting that he would help her. Her scream
as the creature tightened his grasp on her--one hand in her hair, an arm wrapped
around her ribs--even as it fought off Angel. He could remember snatching the
crossbow from Cordy, ignoring the other woman’s curses. Sighting down it to
take the only possible shot, barely missing Fred’s neck. The demon’s howl
echoing in the tunnels as he again tossed Fred away, leaving him open to attack
from Angel and Gunn. Wes
shook his head, banishing the images. Crossing the room to where he’d left the
cd player, he crouched down to turn it on, setting the volume control to be a
quiet, barely audible sound in the small room. Standing, he flipped off the
bedroom light before turning his attention to Fred. In the faint light coming in
her bedroom windows, he could just see that she had somehow managed to strip off
the jeans, as well as glimpse the developing bruises on her ribs and her one
side. Fred had stretched out on her stomach in the middle of her bed, her arms
crossed under her head, hair bundled up in a high, loose knot and the covers
resting low on her back. Returning
to her bedside, Wes settled onto the bed by her hip, cautiously tracing the
bruises with his fingertips. Trailing his hands from her ribs to her back, he
rested one hand over the scars on the small of her back, the other reaching for
the bottle he’d sat on the bedside table. Lifting his hand from her back, Wes
poured some of the contents, a thick, pale, golden brown liquid, into his hand.
Capping the bottle, he returned it to the table and then rubbed his hands
together for a moment. Taking a deep breath, Wes returned his hands to her skin,
stroking lightly up her spine to her shoulders and back down again, seeking out
all the tightly knotted muscles. His
fingers were finding all of the tight little knots in her back, and she couldn't
quite fight the purr of pleasure that oozed out of her. She just slowly unwound
under his touch until finally she turned her head slowly to look at him.
"Easier... over... me?" Her eyes were half-closed; even her words were
heavy with fatigue. "It
would be." Wes resolutely fought down the images that flashed through his
mind, the intense state of arousal her softly spoken question caused him. He
trailed a finger over her cheekbone. "Would you let me?" When she
nodded, Wes shifted, moving slowly, and straddled her across her thighs,
allowing him to reach her lower back. Keeping most of his weight off her, he
started kneading those muscles and reached for the bottle, still innocently
sitting on the table. "Alright?" Her
soft, contented purr was his only audible answer, but her muscles started
melting under his touch. She sighed contentedly, the soft, warm scent of vanilla
filling her senses. "Nice." The pleasure of his touch was making
thought nearly impossible. "You
like it?" Wes asked softly, but a soft hum of pleasure was his only
response. The combination of her personal scent combined with the massage oil,
the feel of her skin under his hands, was slowly eroding away at his promise to
himself to just ease her pain. His fingers were rubbing just hard enough to
loosen the aching muscles, and Fred moaned softly from the pleasure Wes was
creating, the way his touch eased all the pain. He
lifted his hands from her and carefully poured more of the oil onto her back
before resuming his massage. He shifted a bit, settling more of his weight on
her. Wes considered her, even as he resumed stroking her back. Her eyes were
closed, her breathing slow and deep; for a moment he thought that she was asleep
and paused in his massage. Fred
whimpered softly, cracking her eyes open to look at Wes. “Don’t stop. Feels
good.” “You
sure, precious?” Wes asked just as softly, not wanting to disrupt the mood
developing between them. Yet even as he asked the question, he resumed his
gentle stroking of her skin. He glided his hands over her, barely touching her.
He stared down at her for a long moment before giving in to the temptation and
dropping a soft, feather-light kiss on the side of her throat and allowing the
fingers of one hand a fleeting brush over the edge of her breast. He felt her
gasp in surprise even as she tilted her head farther to the side, giving him
even greater access to her soft skin. He
nibbled lightly on the newly exposed skin, working his way over her throat to
her back to trail gentle kisses along her spine. The taste of her blended with
the vanilla oil was so sweet, an enticement to seek more of it, especially with
her soft gasps echoing in the room. He
reached the scars crossing her back and paused, feeling her start to tense. Wes
slid his hands up over her ribs, caressing her gently before tracing the
heaviest scars with his tongue. “Don’t hide from me, sweetheart,” he
murmured against her skin as he retraced his route back up to her throat.
“You’re beautiful. Gorgeous. Amazingly intelligent.” Wes punctuated his
soft words with gentle kisses and barely grazing touches. Fred
squirmed beneath his hands and lips, torn between sending him away and begging
for more. “Wesley?” she asked in a barely audible whisper, not wanting to
break the mood any more than he. Every dance and conversation between them had
been leading up to this moment, and now that it had come, she was afraid. “Have
I scared you?” Wes murmured in her ear, pressing a gentle kiss behind it. He
felt her nod, shivering from his kiss and the light caress that had accompanied
it. “You never need to fear me,” he whispered, nuzzling her neck. “I’d
never hurt you.” He shifted back, lifting his weight from her and tugged
lightly on her shoulder. “Never do a thing you didn’t want me to,” he
mused, breaking off to kiss her as she shifted over onto her back at his urging. Fred
squirmed, gasped and then arched into Wesley as he deepened the kiss, taking
advantage of her surprised reaction. Her hands went to his shoulders, clutching
him briefly before tracing across his skin to tangle in his hair. She moaned
softly when he broke the kiss to look down at her; his eyes had darkened,
shadowed with hunger for her. Wes
stared into Fred’s eyes, looking for the traces of fear he half expected to
find, smiling when he didn’t see it. He shifted his weight over her, so that
he could reach for the knot she’d put her hair in, undoing it to spread the
dark strands across the pillows. He threaded his fingers through her hair,
loving the silky feel of it, finally tangling one hand in her hair to drag her
into a deep, passionate kiss. His other hand left her hair to lightly trace her
curves before cupping one of her small breasts. He broke the kiss, trailing
kisses over her jaw to her ear. “Do you like this?” he asked quietly,
nipping her earlobe before turning his attention to her throat again. He
soon found that spot on her throat that had caused her to moan so sweetly the
previous night. He settled his mouth on that spot and began sucking on it,
causing Fred to arch against him and tighten her grip on his hair. She craned
her neck to give him all the access to her soft skin he could possibly want.
Soon his teeth joined the effort and she was trembling beneath him, moaning
incoherently. He pulled away from her throat, smiling, for the mark he left was
dark against her pale skin. He discovered just how sensitive that spot was as he
stroked it with a single finger and Fred cried out in surprise. His hands danced
across her skin while his mouth concentrated on tasting her throat and breasts,
leaving a trail of kisses and tiny bites across her until he reached one of her
small breasts. Once there, he licked her nipple, then blew on it. Wesley trailed
one hand over her, lightly, teasing until he reached her other breast; catching
that nipple, he rolled it between his fingers. She moaned beneath him, squirming
and gasping. “You
never answered me, my love.” Wes purred against her skin before lifting his
head to look up at her through his lashes, “Do you like this? Want this?”
Switching his attention back to her breast, he began to suckle her. Raising his
head, he chuckled before nibbling his way across her skin to her other breast,
paying it the same attention as the first. In
the background, hardly noticed until now, the sensuous lyrics of "Unchained
Melody" gently reached their crescendo. Wesley murmured the words of the
song against Fred's skin: "'Oh, my love, my darling, I hunger for your
touch...' Touch me, Winifred. Show me what you want." She
moaned and pulled her fingers out of his hair. Her hands drifted over his
shoulders, down his chest, her nails leaving a stinging red trail in their wake.
"Want you. Oh, Wesley, please…" He
allowed his kisses to drift lower, tasting her skin with his tongue. He parted
her thighs with his hands, kneeling between her legs, and began tracing each
fold and petal of her, his touch light and teasing. She cried out, embarrassed,
and then moaned low in her throat, arching into his touch. Wes shifted, laying
his cheek on her stomach for a brief moment. He could smell her and vanilla, the
combined scents as intoxicating as her cries. Fred
was trembling beneath Wesley, caught up in the pleasure of his touch. She wanted
more of that pleasure, needed it. When he stilled, just resting against her
stomach, she whimpered. "Don't stop, please?" Wesley
smiled and kissed her stomach lightly. "Certainly, love." His hands
brushed over her thighs as he turned his attention to the joyous task of tasting
and teasing her. His teeth nipped at her soft flesh, evoking sharp gasps and
desperate moans from her. His tongue probed the depths of her body, causing her
to thrash beneath him. His fingers toyed with her causing her lithe hips to buck
against his touch, seeking more of it. Her soft, whimpering cries as she edged
closer and closer to the pinnacle inflamed him and he smiled, pressing a soft
kiss to her, before crawling back up her body to claim her mouth. His hand
continued teasing her, keeping her on that knife-edge. He
groaned, arching his back as she dragged her nails over his skin. His hands went
to his belt, undoing it and dragging it off. He smothered her soft whimpering
with his mouth, his tongue delving within to tangle with hers. Wes fought with
his pants, stripping them off as quickly as he could, wanting to feel her skin
against his own. Tossing his clothes away, Wes again settled between Fred’s
legs, tracing the length of her body with his hands, watching her eyes darken
further. He teased her by sliding one finger over her clit, pressing it lightly,
delighting in her sharp cry. He rested his weight on one arm, hovering over her.
His thumb replaced his finger in teasing her clit, so he could test her body’s
readiness for him with his fingers. Fred
closed her eyes, for Wes’ intent stare unnerved her. She ached, yearning for
something, and knew he could give it to her. She started babbling, begging,
“Please… Wesley, please… I need… want… oh god, Wesley.” Fred clung
to Wes, cracking her eyes open enough to tangle her hands in his hair and drag
his lips to hers. “Shh,
love.” Fred’s begging had snapped the fine strands of Wes’ control and he
caught her hips in his hands. She was trembling beneath him, her eyes wide and
dark, fear and hunger battling in their depths. “Forgive me, my love.” He
covered her mouth with his, smothering her scream as he plunged into her,
burying himself in her. Fred
dug her nails into Wes’ shoulders, screaming at the sudden pain that lashed
her senses. She could feel him, all of him, in her… over her. The earlier
pleasure drowned in the pain. Then he moved, a slight shift of his weight as he
lifted his lips from hers. She stared into his eyes for a long moment, surprised
to see what seemed to be regret in their blue depths. She moaned softly, arching
slightly against him as Wes tangled his hands into her hair. Wes
lowered his head to her neck, burying his face in her hair. He groaned into her
hair as he began slowly thrusting in and out of her. Fred clung to him, wrapping
herself around him. She was panting, begging softly, desperate for him to
appease the ache he’d roused in her. Wesley desperately wanted to hear her
scream his name, to feel her come apart in his arms. Fred’s
scream ripped through the small room. She flung her head back, eyes closed, her
body arching into Wes’ as she climaxed. Her body locked around him, forcing
him into her. They collapsed into a tangle of sweat-slicked limbs, still deeply
locked together.
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Disclaimers: All original material, including fan fiction, artistic renderings and essays on this and associated pages is copyright 2002 by Merzibelle. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, or any characters contained therein is intended. All photographs and caps have been taken from several sites, including but not limited to YesWes, Forums4Fans (where pictures are posted without notation as to original sites) and the WB. |
