*****

He's an addiction, a craving, an obsession I cannot resist.

I don't know what has happened to me. I am the sensible one, the moderate one, the - let's be honest - the boring one. My whole life I have been nothing if not dependable. I've always striven to do what is right, correct. Proper.

Having an affair with Lindsey McDonald is none of these.

He is the enemy. He is unpredictable and dangerous. He is attempting to kill my love even as he fucks him through me.

And yet, I cannot get enough of him. Every week I find myself at the door of the apartment, half-heartedly trying to convince myself to do the sensible thing: to walk away and never return.

Then he opens the door and looks at me out of those cornflower blue eyes; smiling, smirking, gazing at me, seductive and fascinating. His eyes, his smile, his body full of promises, and I am rendered powerless.

This is sheer madness.

As the situation with Darla gets worse I find myself more and more conflicted. The rational part of me knows that what I am doing is wrong. As if I didn't have enough evidence from their past behavior, they have brought back Angel's sire. That makes their intent all too obvious: they are trying to bring back Angelus. To what aim, I am not sure; even if they don't succeed, my Angel will be gone.

I try to lie to myself. I try to convince myself that nothing has changed,that the reasons that drove me to Lindsey's bed are the same reasons that keep me there. But it is a lie.

This has gone beyond a simple satisfying of lusts. It has become so much more. I no longer only want Angel.

Now I crave Lindsey as well.

He doesn't know. I can't tell him. What am I supposed to say? Please don't leave me, I want you? You fascinate me? I need you? He would laugh at me.

Lindsey would laugh.

I don't love him, but I do find myself worried about him. If Angel found out about us, I don't think he'd do anything to drastic. Push me around a bit. Yell. Look at me through disappointed and betrayed eyes. But if Wolfram and Hart found out . . .

Yet they must know. They seem to know everything. And then there are the mind readers. They found out when he came to Angel for help, how can I do anything but assume they know about this? Yes, Lindsey is in far more danger than I.

Every time I get to the apartment first and have to wait for him, I am in agony. I am afraid he won't come, that I will never see him again. I am afraid he has been hurt, abused, caught, killed. If he is taken from me, what will I do?

I doubt he worries as much about me. I am merely a vessel for him. A body with the correct color hair and right connection. Nothing more.

I am glad of this. All the attachment is on my side. It is safer that way. Perhaps the firm does not respond because they don't care about the body their lawyer fucks. Just as long as their prey does not harm Lindsey because of me, he will be safe.

I hope.

We are meeting tonight. I have been anxious to get to the apartment all day. I had plenty to occupy my mind, to keep me from thoughts of him. I had to help Angel and Gunn defeat a Tarkinite demon and it's harem. A draining spell to befuddle it, then Angel and Gunn went in for the kill.

Angel seemed worried about me afterward. I was, and still am, exhausted. The spell took so much out of me.

"Stay," he said simply, gazing at me earnestly. "There's room." A touch of irony in his voice that time.

I smiled tiredly. "I can't. I have plans."

He raised his eyebrow. "Surely Virginia can wait one night. It's not like you don't have a good excuse."

What, Angel, haven't you noticed I never speak of her anymore? That my name has stopped appearing in the society pages? That no one ever calls for the Wyndam-Price Agency now? That she never calls?

Instead of saying this, I merely shrug. "She said tonight was very important."

His eyes darken slightly. A look of . . .was that understanding? frustration? crosses his face. "Very well. Be careful, Wes."

I blink; he's never said that when he thought I was with Virginia before. "Of course. Good night, Angel." I turn and walk quickly away; I need my Lindsey.

"Good night," he says softly. His voice sounds strange, but I don't have time.

I want to be away, taken to a place where I can forget, just for a bit.

With Lindsey, I feel wanted, needed, loved, even if he is simply using me. I am using him, after all.

I wait for him anxiously, half-asleep in the bed. No matter what I do, I cannot seem to keep my eyes open. I've never slept here before; we never sleep together. That would be too intimate and suggestive. It suggests a connection. It suggests. . .trust. Us sleeping together would indicate we share more than an obsession, that we share... so much more. Trust.

I want to sleep by his side, just once. It may easy my hunger for him, to know that I've been intimate with him in more than one way. But I am afraid. I don't trust him, but I need him. I need him in more ways than one, but I will take what I can get.

"Hello," his voice greets me gently.

My eyes snap open. "Hello."

Lindsey is gazing at me, undressing quietly. "Are you all right?"

"Yes; a little tired." My hands are itching to hold him, to stroke his silky smooth skin, to run my fingers through his messy, unkept hair.

I've longed for him all week.

He sits on the bed next to me, naked. "You look tired." His hand gently caresses my face, down my neck, his eyes dark with lust. "Do you want to sleep for a bit? I can wait."

"No." I pull him towards me, my lips searching his, falling back on the bed.

An obsession. I need him, crave him, want him. How did this happen? How can

I desire a man with no heart?

*end*