By Minim Calibre
Notes: For the Lilahficathon, Lilah/Lindsey, NC-17.
“Teamwork. Efficiency. Survival. Success. One of these things is not like the other.” The disembodied voice paused for a moment, letting the words settle over the audience. In the sixth row back, three seats in from the aisle, Lilah Morgan surreptitiously studied her nails and ignored the lecture she knew by rote. Survive one Wolfram and Hart company morale retreat, you’ve got the tools to survive them all. Survive two, and you start to wish they’d alter the script a little.
For Lilah, this was number five. She’d come out on top each one of the four previous times, and had the promotions and commemorative Lucite statues to show for it.
“Success demands sacrifice. At the end of our presentation, we begin the activities portion of our retreat. You will each be assigned a partner. Don’t think of this as team building: think of it as team breaking.”
She checked her watch: t-minus ten minutes. Checked her purse: tools present and accounted for, all systems go. After last year’s debacle with Lee Mercer, she knew better than to come unprepared. Not that she’d come at all, no matter what he’d tried. Spell or no spell, Lee didn’t have what it took — a fact she made sure to remind him of every time they crossed paths, which was more often than she suspected he liked, which was just the way she liked it. Sometimes, she even adjusted her schedule around getting a dig in at him.
Interns shuffled silently into the aisles like so many jittery ants, the trademark dark circles from sleepless nights turning their faces into death masks. With expressionless efficiency, they distributed slips of paper, each one printed with a name and a room number.
Lindsey McDonald, Room 115. Just her luck: Holland’s pet. “Hope he’s housetrained,” she muttered as she made her way to the room.
He’d beaten her to it.
“Lilah.”
“Lindsey.” She was glad she’d worn heels that really emphasized her height. She’d leave them on when she girded her loins for battle. “Let’s cut to the chase: coin toss or short straw?”
He slid a silver dollar from his palm, balancing it on the side of his thumb like a cheap magic act. “Heads or tails?”
“Heads.”
“Your go.” He calmly tucked the coin into his pocket.
“The usual rules? Any thing I say, you do?” Short of suicide, homicide, and obvious self-mutilation, of course, though she’d heard all of the above had been allowed back when the firm had started its annual retreats. Play and counter play, no humiliation too great, no holds barred except the fatal ones.
“The usual rules.”
“Back in five.” Lilah took her purse and herself into the bathroom to get ready. She stripped down to her bra, her shoes, and her lace-topped thigh highs, then buckled her weaponry around her hips. The leather harness was cool and stiff against her skin, and she made a note to try rubber the next time she needed one.
When she came out, Lindsey was sitting in one of the two plaid armchairs, his feet propped on top of the table. He put his hands behind his head and leaned back, looking her over slowly. “If you expect me to bend over, I just want you to know, it wouldn’t be the first time.”
“I didn’t think it would. After all, I bet you bend over nightly for Holland.” She smiled and ran a finger over the seven inches of black silicone strapped to her crotch. “Sorry to disappoint you. I want you to suck it. Oh yeah, and I want you to make me enjoy it. Just remember what they say about getting blood from stones.”
He shrugged and swung his feet to the floor, ambling over without hesitation. Lee, she thought irritably, would have at least had the grace to look nonplussed. Lindsey looked like he did this every day on his lunch hour for his health. Then again, just based on the way he sank to his knees without being told, he probably did.
When he swallowed the whole thing without blinking or gagging, she amended probably to definitely. Lilah pushed her hips forward, and was rewarded with a slight choking sound before he readjusted himself, his mouth squeaking wet against the dildo, teeth grazing the molded veins; she didn’t realize he was pushing back until she felt its base grind against her clit.
Lilah made another note, this time to mention the night’s events to Lee, and let herself come before she let Lindsey stop.
The bastard smirked as he stood up. “Guess that old chestnut about blood from a stone’s another lie.”
“Your turn, Lindsey. What do you want?
“I want you to use that for what it was made for. I want you to fuck me.”
“Let me guess, you also want me to make you enjoy it.”
“I doubt you have it in you to make me enjoy anything you do, Lilah.”
Lindsey’s ass was pale and round. Undressed, he looked like the International Male version of Cupid. She knelt between his parted thighs and pushed the head of the dildo between his cheeks, letting his own saliva act as lube.
“I bet this is how you earned the money for law school, isn’t it?” His shoulders stiffened. “Am I right? This how you made your way out of the doublewide and into Armani?”
“Shut up.” He bucked, trying to throw her off. A hit, a palpable hit.
Lilah jerked her hips, pushing into him roughly as she reached down to grab his balls. “I bet the other kids just loved you. Little Lindsey with his hand-me-down clothes, never quite blending in.” Class and money issues. She should have known.
“Shut. Up.” But he was panting, his pelvis rubbing frantically against the bed. She grabbed his hair and pushed his face into the pillow.
“Admit you were a cheap piece of trailer shit and you always will be, Lindsey.” She tightened her grip on his hair with one hand, and her grip on his balls with the other. “Admit it.”
His back arched and his body stiffened as he came against the blandly tasteful pattern of the comforter, the name coming out of his mouth not the one she’d expected, if she’d expected any name at all.
Pulling out, she unbuckled the harness and tossed it aside. “Who’s Angel?”
A yawn, then he answered. “New player in town. Vampire who fancies himself a good guy. Sent Russell Winters through a window in broad daylight.”
And made himself the object of Lindsey’s perverted fantasies while doing it. Interesting. Even if Lindsey ended up beating her at her own game before the retreat was over, this bit of information was the kind that made it all worth while.
Angel.
She’d have to visit Files and Records and check him out.