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Title: Soft as it Should Be
Author: Tania
Rating: R
Pairing: Wes/Illyria
Summary: The line between perfection and ideal is not so fine after all.

Her smile was almost more than he could bear. White toothed grin spreading over her tanned face, locks of chestnut hair curling over rosy cheeks. As she bore down on him, arching her back towards windows reflecting a quiet evening sky Wesley couldn’t keep one thought from running through his mind over and over; she wasn’t supposed to be this hard. Fred was soft, light to the touch like divinity, sticky sweet, melting under his fingers. But this was not soft in any way. Every movement was hard and forced. She was deliberate and the knowledge that somehow this was not Fred at all was ever present in his mind.

Still, he couldn’t open his eyes. Wesley refused to look at her. He let her fingers skate over his stubbled chin and glistening arms in a desperate attempt to bore into his very soul, traipsing over his flesh though it were a map to where she had been some distant point in the past. Wesley crushed his eyes tight, struggling to stay asleep, yearning to stay oblivious to the pain his body endured at her touch. God he wanted to touch the dream, but the harder he tried to keep the thoughts at bay the more keenly aware he became of the body writhing over him, bucking against his body, forcing it to respond no matter how hard his mind contested.

Head rested against the back of his chair, constant swiveling and rocking like a ship tossed away unmanned in the sea. His insides battered under the punishing rhythm of her ministrations. Always hard where his mind told him she should be gentle. Surely the dream was over now. The burning pain that awoke him every morning, skin rubbed raw though no lover remained at dawn, only memories of an encounter that was nothing like it should have been.

The dream was over and only the nightmare remained. Finally ready to face the horror of the truth Wesley opened his eyes and stared into the empty eyes that watched his every move, taking in reactions like a computer, registering each nuance of change in a data base to be manipulated at a later time.

“Enough,” he said, pressing Illyria’s body back against the desk. “Be her.”

With a satisfied look Illyria bent her head back and a shudder passed over her body, skin suddenly soft and as he always knew it should be.