Pairing: Lilah Morgan/Christian Troy
Disclaimer: Joss and Ryan Murphy hold copyright on the characters; I’m just playing.
Summary: Sell out with me oh yeah, sell out with me tonight…
“I just sold my soul,” the brunette at the bar says, giving Christian the eye and the thigh slide and everything that says he can fuck her if he doesn’t give her too much attitude first. “Whoo-the-fuck-hoo, right?”
She’s got blue-green cat eyes, perfect eyebrows, kind of a classic film diva look going on. Not really a South Beach look, but Christian doesn’t mind. It’ll be like fucking Kate Hepburn or Ava Gardner.
“You get a good price for it?” Christian quips.
“I’m a lawyer-to-be,” she answers. “It went for a premium. No more student loans, a nice home for my crazy-ass mom, excellent benefits, six figures to start.”
Christian whistles. “Good trade,” he says.
“Better than the alternative,” she says diffidently. “Lilah Morgan.”
“Let me guess — investment banker or male model. Or, no, this is Miami Beach — drug dealer,” Lilah says airily, throwing back another shot with practiced grace. She’s got a nice neck. Not as nice as Julia’s, but not too fucking bad, either.
“Plastic surgeon. Just about, anyway,” Christian says. “Six months, it’ll be a done deal. Me and my best friend are going to start a firm — he’s a fucking genius.”
“And you’re the eye candy,” Lilah says, tapping the bar with her shot glass. “Nice deal, Christian Troy. How the fuck do you put up with the humidity in this goddamn town, though?”
“Have you ever seen the women in this town?” Christian replies. “Models — or just about ready to beg me to make them perfect. It’s my kind of city, Miss Morgan. Restless. Never content. Willing to put it all on the line for success.”
“Or maybe afraid that if anyone cracks open the pretty shell, they’ll find out there’s only a few cobwebs, one IOU, and the black oblivion,” Lilah says morosely. “Oh, sorry, was that unnecessarily dampening? I mean, you do get to fuck me, obviously, but I’m having sellers’ remorse.”
Christian snorts. “You think it’s that easy?” he asks, taking one of her shots and downing it himself. “You say I can fuck you, and we fuck? What about me? What if you’re not good enough?”
“Then you replace my shot and we pass on, strangers in the night,” Lilah says, favoring him with a smile. She’s really a remarkably beautiful woman, the kind that makes Christian’s dick twitch. Especially because he can see her nipples outlined against the thin linen of her sundress.
“We should celebrate your new job,” Christian says.
“We should,” Lilah replies, her upper lip curving in a perfect mixture of contempt and desire.
She rides him like a champion, those long, strong thighs straining as she flexes and releases his cock, and Christian drags his nails over them lightly and Lilah wails like a possessed wet dream of a girl, her tits curving out in a way that would beg to be licked, if Christian wasn’t busy looking at her stomach, or squeezing her very nice ass.
Afterward, while she’s waiting for the cab, Christian’s kind of struck with how young she looks. She’s got her hair back in a ponytail, and in a cream linen sundress with her face scrubbed clean of makeup thanks to the post-coital shower, Christian almost feels like a pervert.
“So where’s your law firm?” Christian asks awkwardly, noticing the ugly mood that Lilah seems to have fallen into. He hopes she’s not the kind who gets accusatory and bitter after.
“LA,” she says shortly. “I’m sorry. Not about the sex. That was incredible. Just. Sold my soul. Signed the dotted line eight times. Once in blood. It’s kind of giving me the creep-out.”
“Do you really believe in the soul?” Christian asks.
“Yesterday, I would have told you no,” Lilah says. “Right now? I don’t know. Maybe it’s all in my head, but putting a price on my soul kind of makes me wonder.”
Christian nods. “It’ll be easier once you get over the first shock of being appreciated for your skills,” he says. “Clearly, you’re a good fucking lawyer, and you’re a great fuck. Nice ass, too.”
“You’ll be the first on my list if I need references as a prostitute,” Lilah says sarcastically. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, though. My non-existent sold-out soul did appreciate the fuck.”
“Any time, counselor,” Christian says as she gets up, looks out the window, and lets the blinds fall back. “You leaving?”
“As much as I miss the chuckle-fest? Yeah,” Lilah replies, stroking Christian’s shoulder fondly as she ambles over to the door. “Good luck with your plastic surgery business. May the T&A keep you in bread and all.”
“May your non-existent soul let you sleep well,” Christian replies, and with that, she’s gone, not another word, the door shutting politely behind her.