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Ashes and Glass
by Dana Woods
Email: danawoods at gmail dot com
Personal Website: Broken Symmetry
Pairing: Gunn/Lindsey
Part of Smoke and Mirrors.
Summary: How it ends. Two men in a bar, yo. Set during season five, post-Destiny.
SPOILER WARNING: Set during Not Fade Away.
Rating: PG 13
Dedication: Only for Lar, who slathered love on my boys long-long-long before anyone else did, would I write G/L set during Not Fade Away.
Disclaimer: Characters and concepts of Angel belong to Mutant Enemy, et al. I have no real power or influence over these characters.
---
Gunn planned on spending the day with Anne soaking up some sanity and some sense. Because he had the feeling that both those tanks were running on fumes, what with him agreeing to Angel's kamikaze mission.
But plans go awry. Gunn's got more experience than he wants when it comes to that. His mind kept wandering so damn bad that Anne eventually sent him away. Told him to get out of her face and go where he really wanted to go. Only, with nicer words and a great big hug.
*
The lock on the motel suite's door clicks open, and then Gunn is pushing Lindsey inside, and Lindsey is letting him. They barely manage to slam the door shut before their hands are reaching for material. Gunn gets tangled in his hoodie, hears seams give way before Lindsey finally tosses it to the floor.
Gunn's hands fumble with the huge, honkin' buckle on Lindsey's belt. Damn thing's the size of Texas.
"Fuckin' city boy," Lindsey says, pushing Gunn's hands away and undoing it himself.
The buttons on Lindsey's shirt, those Gunn knows, so he works at them, sending more than one flying across the room and not giving a damn because each one opens to give him a little more of Lindsey's chest.
Lindsey's hands are at the waistband of Gunn's pants. Must have taken care of the belt buckle, so Gunn finishes the job and unfastens Lindsey's jeans before shoving the shirt off of Lindsey's shoulders and just touching that chest.
Son of a bitch. It's been almost three years since they've been together like this, but he didn't forget, couldn't forget, the dips and rises, the sinuous bulges, the slightly rough texture of the skin. If Gunn hadn't been hard since they got in the elevator to come here, just touching Lindsey's chest would have done it.
For a change, Lindsey actually stays still for it. Lets Gunn plot the contours, relearn where it's concave, where it's convex. And Lindsey's panting, frozen still like a deer in the headlights, because motionless isn't his usual state, and his muscles are protesting the lack of movement and it's taking a whole lot of effort to give Gunn this moment of stillness.
It makes Gunn suck in a breath, because this is Lindsey--this chest, the instinctive motion, the blinding need to give of himself and have it taken--and it's all so familiar that his gut untwists from a knot he never realized was there.
Drags his eyes up and Lindsey's face is enough to fucking make him shoot right now. Long hair falling across cheeks, wide blue eyes with little yellow specks almost glowing, sweet lips parted and dry. It's sacrilege, those lips being dry, so Gunn leans forward, swipes his tongue across them, and it spins Lindsey into motion again.
Lindsey jerks and pulls at every bit of clothing his hands can find, whether it's Gunn's or his own. Twists his torso at the same time, trying to force Gunn's hands to his back, but it's been three damn years and Gunn's not ready to let go of what he's just found again. Not even to make Lindsey scream in pleasure. Keeps running his hands across Lindsey's chest, delves into Lindsey's mouth and it's a dizzying mess of tongue and lips and teeth, of warmth and wetness and whiskey, of giving and taking and needing.
By the time Gunn has to pull away for air, he and Lindsey are both naked.
*
Lindsey planned on spending the day with Eve. She's a sweet thing. Thinks she loves him in a forever-and-ever kind of way, and he's had a run of women who didn't give a flying fuck about him; her kind of love's pretty damn appealing in comparison, even if it's not the heart-stopping-mind-warping-passion-stirring love that Lindsey's used to.
He wanted to get another dose of her. Wanted to feel strong and capable; hold Eve close, rock her, tell her things would be fine and nothing would go wrong. And he did. For a while. But the thing about apocalypses? They're good for making a person crave what he needs, and not give a damn about what he wants.
*
Lindsey wonders if they'll ever make it further than three feet from the door. Figures there's a good chance they won't, and tells his joints to just suck it the fuck up. Because he's naked, and in front of him is an equally naked Gunn, whose hands have slowly worked their way around to Lindsey's back, and pretty soon they'll be doing more than just touching.
But hopefully not anytime soon, because he's good where he is right now, head bowed and pressed against Gunn's chest, feather-light touches on his spine making him arch back and curl away at the same time, the heavy weight of Gunn's cock rubbing against his. And that's just the physical. Doesn't even take account to all the shit that's going on in his head, too many thoughts racing all over the place, but with a recurring stream of Gunn. Me. Again. Finally. standing out.
It's been a thousand-plus days since they were in a room together without everything else making this impossible, and Lindsey remembers the too-short period of time when no more than two days would go by without them seeking each other out. But it feels like it could have been yesterday, because he hasn't forgotten anything. He remembers it all, with his head, with his skin, with his goddamn nerve endings. It's Gunn, and even if Lindsey manages to live a thousand-plus years, he doesn't think he could forget.
Slight tug on his hair, and he raises his head to meet eyes dark with passion and volatility.
"You with me, Linds?" Gunn asks, voice rough around the edges. "Am I not holding your interest?"
There's a quickly squashed urge to tell Gunn just how much of Lindsey's interest he's holding. They left the bullshit on the curb a while back, but they never progressed to putting things like that on the table.
"You could be," he says instead, insinuating smile and pointed glance down at his interest.
Gunn cups the side of Lindsey's head, palm pushing it back, thumb brushing across his cheek. "Think I'll make it that easy?"
Probably not, if he's asking. It'd piss Lindsey off coming from anyone else, but Gunn in this mood just makes him shiver in anticipation.
*
When he left the shelter, Gunn had no damn idea where he "really wanted to go". Drove around for a while, then slammed on his brakes and almost caused an accident when he passed the bar where he first really met Lindsey. It's a dank little place, just a few blocks from the office he, Wes and Cordy had after Angel fired them.
Stayed in the middle of the road until everyone behind him started leaning on their horns, then parked his truck around the corner when he decided that the spot right in front of him was too small for the truck.
*
A part of Gunn thinks this should be nice, steady, slow. But the rest of him ain't listening. The rest of him has Lindsey--naked and eager and shivering Lindsey--with those sweet lips and tight ass, standing in front of him. The rest of him is also thinking about the fact that Angel told him and the others that Lindsey was at the office with Eve.
Lindsey flinches and Gunn realizes he tightened his grip on the side of Lindsey's head. Lets go and glares down. "You come to me right from having a go with Eve?"
Anger flares brightly in Lindsey's eyes, fades away fast and is replaced with shock. "Jesus fuck, Gunn. No."
"Near enough," Gunn hisses and that small part of him is screeching and punching the rest of him, but it's not doing any good.
He's tired of there being someone else when he and Lindsey get together. First Darla, now Eve. Doesn't help matters that it's always been just Gunn with Lindsey. Just once, he'd like to have Lindsey to himself. For himself. Doesn't think that's too much to ask, considering just how many pieces he picked up when Lindsey was getting cut down to the bone by Darla.
Gunn can feel Lindsey behind him, hovering close but not touching, and Gunn wishes he could get past this, or figure out a way to pretend it didn't matter.
"I haven't fucked her since before I called you," Lindsey says, his voice so much a whisper that Gunn knows it's the truth. Lindsey and truth are awkward around each other, and it comes across. Always has.
Thinks back and remembers that Lindsey called him not long before they found out he was back in town. Gunn assumed it was from someplace far away. Realized later it was from across town. Weeks. No, months ago. Lets out a shuddering breath and knows he has no fucking right to Lindsey, and if he wants to talk about what he "deserves", it ain't Lindsey giving him exactly that.
But he's going to take it anyway.
*
Lindsey left Eve in Angel's office after making some bullshit excuse that he knew she didn't believe. Went down to the garage and grabbed a random set of keys. Turned out to be for the Porsche, and Lindsey barreled his way across town faster than should have been possible, given that this was L.A. and the traffic was constant.
Blared the horn at one point when the traffic stopped on the same block as his destination, then maneuvered the little car into a spot, right in front of the bar, that few other cars could have fit in.
*
It's a rare thing for Lindsey to see Gunn like this, off-balance and needy. Only happened one other time, and it was when Wesley took that bullet to the stomach. Lindsey hates it. Makes him furious, because Gunn should be exempt from shit that does that to a person. Lindsey? Yeah, that's his lot in life, chosen by him when he decided that he couldn't just play one side of the good/evil fence.
But it's not Gunn's, and the recent screw-ups don't change that. Not in Lindsey's mind, at any rate.
Pulls Gunn around to face him again and decides that they need to stop thinking and start doing, because time is ticking away and they've wasted enough of it already. Steps closer until they're brushing against each other, both of them soft thanks to that moment of reality, grabs the back of Gunn's neck and leans up to kiss him.
Wonders if maybe this is what he was trying for with all the holding and rocking of Eve, then takes his own advice and shuts his brain off.
Gunn probably has a taste that makes sense, but Lindsey's never been able to define it as a flavor. Slides his tongue along Gunn's and all he knows is purpose, strength, solidity. All the more potent and concentrated because it's newly regained. Runs his hands along all that skin that's just so damn close. Sleek chest, lean thighs, long arms.
And Gunn lets him. Sets a hand on Lindsey's waist, thumb tracing interconnecting circles, mouth following Lindsey's lead.
Drags his mouth down, licks at Gunn's neck and there's a shudder that works its way through Gunn, then a hand tangling in Lindsey's hair.
"Like the long hair," Gunn tells him, voice thick and heavy. Gives a tug and Lindsey hisses and shivers. "Really like the hair."
A considering look, then Gunn's touching his back, and Lindsey hisses and shivers again. Slow, sultry grin from Gunn as he tugs on Lindsey's hair again, and Lindsey jerks in his arms, tries not to hiss but fails.
"Oh, yeah," Gunn breathes. "This is nice."
*
Gunn stood by the truck after he got out and wondered if he was insane. Leaving Anne to spend his day in a bar that'd probably be empty this early. Wasn't any point to it that he could see, except indulging in a whole lot of sentimentality for something that was never supposed to be sentimental to begin with.
Walked around the corner anyway and found Lindsey standing in front of the door.
*
First time Gunn kissed Lindsey, it was at Lindsey's swank apartment and they were standing kind of like they are now. Except they had clothes on. Not a change Gunn minds as he lowers his head to suck Lindsey's lower lip into his mouth.
Boy has a mouth that looks like it's made for sin. Gunn knows from experiences Lindsey's good enough with it to make it feel like sin and then some. Knows, as Lindsey gradually moves lower and lower, that he's about to drown in sin again.
Not a bad way to go. Or even to end with. Moment's got everything. Sight of pretty boy Lindsey on his knees, looking up at Gunn with a wicked little grin. Feel of Lindsey's wet, hot mouth on Gunn's cock, his tongue working every inch as it goes in and comes out. Sound of sucking and licking, of humming and husky laughter, intermingling with Gunn's groans. Scent of Lindsey, perpetual whiskey and anger even when he's fresh out of the shower and smiling, winding up to Gunn along with musk and salt. Feel of Lindsey's thick hair tangling in Gunn's fingers.
Moment's got something else, too. Determination to enjoy everything Lindsey's making him feel, because too many people have shit on what Lindsey has to offer.
That's the heart of it all. Gunn's been tied up in Lindsey since day one. Considered fading out of L.A. with him because Lindsey needed to be away from temptation, and with someone willing to take everything he had to offer and give back all the right stuff, to stay in line.
Today was supposed to be about reconnecting with the mission. Thought he'd find it with Anne, but he should have known better. He started up with Lindsey to define himself by his opposite. Stopped trying to put a mirror between them, and started looking at Lindsey through a pane of glass. Wound up remembering who he was when he saw Lindsey as Lindsey.
Break down the mission, reduce it to its smallest level, and the mission is Lindsey.
Gunn thinks that, whatever the hell happens tonight, at least he'll have fulfilled his mission--the real mission--right here and now with Lindsey.
"You with me, Gunn?" Lindsey asks, mocking humor lacing his voice. "Am I not holding your interest?"
Smiles down at the wild-boy smirking up at him. Slides his hands so that he's petting Lindsey's hair with one, and brushing the thumb of the other against that pretty mouth.
"Even when you're not trying to," Gunn tells him, stark moment of honesty that demanded to be put out there, because he's got a feeling tonight is going to end so damn badly.
And even if he's wrong about everything, he thinks the look on Lindsey's face is worth it: dumbstruck awe. Ain't a common occurrence, throwing the slick lawyer-boy off his game. Then Lindsey's face gets a little slack, and his eyes get real dark, and he rests his forehead against Gunn's abdomen for a moment, hands clenching on Gunn's hips.
"Same here," he whispers.
Then Gunn gaspsmoansgroanschokes, because Lindsey's working him like never before. Mouth tight and strong, like he wants to suck something less tangible than come from Gunn. One hand cradling Gunn's balls, fingers giving the exact right level of pressure to make Gunn almost scream from how good it feels.
And maybe Lindsey can get what he's trying to get because Gunn can't think straight and he can't define a damn thing about the moment, and all that makes sense is Lindsey's mouth on his cock, and that becomes the moment. Everything's there, and when Lindsey slides a hand back and works a finger into Gunn, the moment gets to be too much and he gives it all to Lindsey, and Lindsey takes every last drop.
*
Lindsey didn't bother locking up the Porsche. Just slammed the door shut and cursed at the passing cars that were making it impossible for him to cross the street to the bar. To Gunn. It never occurred to him that Gunn might not be there. Gunn had been there every damn time Lindsey had gone there.
Finally got across the street and was about to open the door to the bar when Gunn walked around the corner.
*
They actually do make it more than three feet from the door. Gunn drags Lindsey up from the floor, kisses him all hard and bruising, then leads them through the sitting room of the suite to the bedroom. To the bed.
Lindsey falls back, and Gunn stands over him, just looking down. Lindsey makes a show of licking his lips, taking another taste of Gunn, and Gunn's eyes flare like fireworks are going off somewhere in his head. Does it again and Gunn tosses himself on top of Lindsey.
Slides a hand between them and Lindsey's back arches when Gunn's hand wraps around his cock. "Holy fuck, Gunn. Too damn long."
Gunn puts his mouth close to Lindsey's ear, and Lindsey's shivering before he even says a fucking word. Man's got a hundred-proof voice, and it's like mainlining moonshine when he talks to Lindsey when they're fucking around.
"Broke me with that mouth of yours, Linds." Starts stroking Lindsey's cock, and Lindsey almost bucks him off. "Think it's only fair I get some payback."
Which sounds like he means one thing, but with the way he's moving behind Lindsey, he apparently means something else. Gunn sits with his back against the headboard, spreads his legs and tugs Lindsey up to sit between them. Back against chest, legs touching, Gunn's hand on his goddamn cock, mouth right next to his goddamn ear.
"Should be illegal how damn hard you made me come," is how Gunn starts, and Lindsey already knows he'll be saying the same thing to Gunn when this is over.
Because Gunn knows how to get to him. Knows the strings of words that burrow through Lindsey's skin and skate along his nerves and right to his cock. Talks about how good Lindsey blew him, and they both know it's not the dirty talk that's getting to Lindsey. It's what's buried just a layer underneath, and Lindsey won't call it what it is because he can't acknowledge the import of him and Gunn. Not now, not then, not ever. Give that layer its proper name and it'll all be too damn real and it'll turn to ash.
But Gunn keeps pouring it into his ear, shooting it into his veins, skating it along his nerves, and Lindsey wants to scream at him to stop, but he can't remember what, exactly, Gunn should stop, because it's so goddamn good that he's going to have a coronary any fucking second now, and why the hell does he want it to stop?
And around the time that Gunn calls Lindsey his--about five times in one breath--Lindsey remembers what he wanted Gunn to stop and why. But it's too late because it's real now. It's all real.
"Gunn," he chokes out, and he sounds panicked and pissed and scared, and he's shaking for those reasons now, instead of the good ones.
Gunn wraps his free arm around Lindsey's chest. Pulls him in tight. Kisses his neck. "It don't matter now, Linds. None of it matters a damn anymore."
His hand is still pumping Lindsey's cock, and Lindsey's having a hard time forming words, but he tries. "No. It'll--won't." Sucks in a crazed breath and tries again. "Ashes. Things--"
"Ain't nothing after tonight," Gunn whispers, forehead pressed against the side of Lindsey's head, hand moving fast and hard, twisting on the upstroke, palm brushing against the head of Lindsey's cock every damn time. "Know what matters? This. You and me, Linds."
He's made it even more real, and if the world as they know it doesn't end tonight, then this will. Somehow, someway. That's just how shit goes in Lindsey's life, and he wants to be pissed at Gunn for destroying something that Lindsey's spent a fuckload of energy protecting with casual indifference, but it's not something that he can be angry about.
Because Gunn's the reasonable one. Always has been. Knowing that Gunn would slam him with logic and practicality and reality was all that kept Lindsey in check sometimes. And now it's real, and it was the reasonable one that made it that way, and all Lindsey can do is fumble behind him to grab hold of Gunn, thrust up into Gunn's hand, slant his ear towards Gunn and stay quiet as he can so that he can hear everything Gunn has to say.
Pouring and shooting and skating, and Lindsey's body is vibrating, and he can't tell where Gunn's hand stops and he starts. And then Gunn pushes him forward, bares his back and feeds all those words into the sensitive skin there, rubs them in with a hand, seals them inside with lips and tongue, and Lindsey is over the edge, tensing and screaming and exploding like the fireworks he saw behind Gunn's eyes.
*
Gunn's steps slowed when he caught sight of Lindsey. Felt something click and smiled as wide as Lindsey did.
"Fancy meeting you here," Lindsey drawled, eyes twinkling.
Gunn shrugged. "Can't beat a dank place to drink."
Lindsey arched a brow at the bar, turned back to Gunn. "Couldn't think of a better way to spend what might be your last day?"
And there was seriousness there, just under the teasing. Gunn smiled slightly and let his gaze drift across Lindsey's face. "Ain't a better way."
Took the weight out of the moment by raising his brows, twisting his lips up. "'Sides, figured I owed you for all the fancy motels you sprang for."
Corners of Lindsey's eyes crinkled. "That right? Let me guess--you're thinking of that suite at the Hilton."
"Read my mind."
*
A time limitation is a great motivator, but draining orgasms are even greater. Gunn watches Lindsey fall asleep, then drifts off himself. Feels like only a few minutes have passed when he wakes up and finds Lindsey watching him.
Can't stop himself from glancing at the clock, but won't think about the fact that he's only got two hours before he has to book it across town to that slimy politician's office. Three hours total until everything goes to hell, most likely literally.
And there's too much shit he wants to do right now. Wants to have some beers with Lindsey and talk law, of all fucking things, because Lindsey's mind is a twisting, winding landscape and this is the first chance Gunn has had to lead the walk down it. Wants to listen to Lindsey sing, because he's only heard it once and he never could bring himself to ask Lindsey to sing for him when Lindsey called from the road.
Hell, he even wants to just hang out with Lindsey and not have sex, because they never really got to do that before what with having to keep everything on the down low. Okay, well, they did it that one time after Lindsey got all busted up by Angel, but Lindsey passed out from pain pretty damn quick, so it wasn't like it was bonding time or anything.
But, Gunn isn't going to be doing any of those things. Or not doing them, far as that last one's concerned.
Because he used to think that Lindsey's eyes were full of layers, all the important stuff hidden and protected way down at the bottom. But right now? Right now there ain't a layer to be seen, and all that's there is the important stuff. Bright and clear as day.
Lindsey's never looked better, far as Gunn's concerned, and he's just about to shoot forward and kiss Lindsey, but Lindsey kisses him first, all soft and gentle, and it's not a kiss they've had before.
It makes Gunn think about Fred, and that's a first, since Lindsey was before Fred. But she told him one time about symmetry. Said that if symmetry had broken different, then everything in the world would be different. Gunn's not sure of the workings of it, but that doesn't matter. He just knows that there's got to be an equivalent with him and Lindsey. Knows that if something had broken different for one or both of them, then their entire world would be different.
Maybe if him and Lindsey hadn't gotten sucked into the fight... Maybe if they'd been on the same side of it... There's a million maybes, and at least one of them has to lead to him and Lindsey getting more than a few hours together every once in a while.
But maybes aren't here and now, and Lindsey doesn't deserve Gunn thinking about bigger and better things, so he pushes that from his head at the same time that he pushes his tongue into Lindsey's mouth. They sit up, mouths still working each other, and there's bitter sleep-taste on both their tongues, but it gets swept away pretty fast. And then there's the whiskey of Lindsey, and whatever it is that Lindsey thinks Gunn tastes like, and they both groan and reach out to grab.
But they pause for a second, and their hands aren't tentative or anything like that, just slow and easy. Gunn runs one of his from Lindsey's shoulder, all the way down to his wrist, and it's not coincidence that it's Lindsey's right hand that Gunn's lacing his fingers through and holding tight.
Lindsey's other hand is at Gunn's face. Cupping it with his palm, caressing it with his fingers. And they pull back, mouths moving apart, and Lindsey's pupils are small and tight, and his gaze is like a shining thing that Gunn thinks he can kind of feel.
"Want to..." Lindsey's voice falters, like he doesn't know the words he wants. But the truth is that he knows and is afraid to say. "To--"
Gunn covers his mouth, kisses his temple. "I know. Give me a sec, okay?"
Goes to the sitting room and finds his pants in a heap. Pulls out his wallet and takes out the condom. Then he just stands there, because he wasn't really planning on this. Remembers that Lindsey wasn't surprised to see him there. Finds the lube in Lindsey's coat pocket and smiles a little before heading back to the bedroom.
Stops in the doorway and takes a moment to just...take Lindsey in. The sheet's been tossed off, and Lindsey's all bunched muscles and tanned skin. He's sitting with his back against the headboard, little frown between his brows, head turned towards the unblocked windows that are letting in the sun that won't be out much longer.
Sees a little smile come to Lindsey's lips before he hears, "Gonna admire the view for the rest of the day?" Turns to Gunn and it's a full-blown smirk. "Or come take a closer look?"
Gunn walks to the bed and Lindsey watches him, eyes getting darker and cloudier, tongue sneaking out to lick his lips, and Gunn's clock starts getting hard just from that little movement.
Climbs on the bed and makes Lindsey spread his legs. Kneels between them and drops the lube and condom on a pillow, then takes Lindsey's face in his hands. "Want to tell me what's twisting your head all up?"
Lindsey blinks. Brings his hands up to hold on to Gunn's wrists. "Can't be that much of a mystery," he says, eyes flickering towards the clock.
But Gunn knows Lindsey too damn well to buy that. "If that was the case? You'd be angry, instead of...whatever you are right now."
"It's not important, and the clock is counting down. Let's not waste it."
Lindsey turns his head, clever tongue finding the pad of Gunn's thumb. Gunn tightens his hold just a little, pushes Lindsey's head back where it was.
"No," he tells Lindsey. Tilts Lindsey's head up and stares down into shifty blue eyes. "Talk to me, Linds. Please."
Gunn thinks it's the 'please' that makes Lindsey's lids lower in defeat, makes him sigh a little.
"Have to have it all, don't you?" Lindsey mutters.
"All of you? Hell, yeah. Only fair, since you've got all of me."
Lindsey starts, his eyes flying open in shock. Gunn smiles a bit, but not too much, because this is serious and Lindsey's got to understand.
"This hasn't ever been what it's supposed to be, and we both know it. May not have said it, but we knew it. I'm not sorry about that. Never have been."
"Now you're lying," Lindsey says, pulling his face out of Gunn's hands. "Regretted it since you found out I was back in L.A."
Gunn shakes his head. "No, I didn't. What I regretted was that you didn't ride off and find some peace. Never regretted you. Never will, either." Sits back on his heels and watches Lindsey swallow thickly. "Tell me what you were thinking about when I came in here."
"I don't want it said," Lindsey tells him, insecurities trembling around a core of steel.
"I know. I know, Linds."
"I'm a selfish fuck."
He says it like it's some kind of confession. Like Gunn hasn't always known that Lindsey gives just about everything he has when he cares, but also does whatever he can to keep it. Like getting Drusilla to turn Darla.
Like telling Gunn to keep something big and significant to himself, something Lindsey damn well knows that that Gunn needs to say. Lindsey's afraid the words will put everything out there in the open. Put it all in danger. So he'll make Gunn hold it in, deny Gunn hearing it. Just to keep things the way he wants them, and to hell with how Gunn wants them.
Gunn has to bite back laughter, because Lindsey's beating himself up over this, but Gunn knew it was coming. Got as close as he could to saying what he needs to say, hearing what he needs to hear, earlier when Lindsey was sitting between his legs. Knows that Lindsey has decided that the almost-saying didn't really put them in the danger he thought it did earlier, but that really-saying will.
Doesn't matter, though. Because it was enough for Gunn, the almost-saying and almost-hearing, and it's not that he's just taking what he can get, it's that he knows that Lindsey trying to protect this says more than even the words themselves.
"Yeah, you are a selfish fuck," Gunn says with a grin. "But you're my selfish fuck, so it's all right."
Sometimes Gunn wants to be able to hear what Lindsey thinks. Like right now. Lindsey's gone still and he's got some kind of automatic shield up in front of his eyes that makes it impossible for Gunn to figure out what his reaction is. There's a million things it could be, but Gunn thinks they've covered what's important already, and it's time for him to show Lindsey the words, because Lindsey didn't tell him he couldn't do that.
Moves them both around so that they're lying on their sides, facing each other, and then Gunn shifts forward. And it's full body contact, miles of skin against skin, and that's all that's in Gunn's head.
*
Lindsey left the Porsche where it was and followed Gunn to his truck. Felt a wave of nostalgia for his own truck, and Gunn glanced at him.
"Didn't sell yours, did you?"
"Stored it."
Didn't say that he almost did sell it, once or twice, but couldn't bring himself to do it because it had reminded him of Gunn, who had pulled off a miracle and replaced the windshield that Angel's little joyride destroyed. Gunn had done it so that Lindsey could leave town as Lindsey, and he'd never forgotten that.
"Kind of like that first night, huh?" Gunn said, slanting his eyes in Lindsey's direction at a red light.
Meeting up at the bar. Driving off in Gunn's truck.
"Little bit of full circle, yeah," Lindsey agreed.
*
Lindsey doesn't have an experience to tie back to what's happening with him and Gunn right now. Because he doesn't think he's ever had this kind of sex. The kind that's passion reigned in by something deeper and more. The kind that's like worship and reverence. The kind that makes his chest get so tight he thinks it'll never loosen again.
That makes him wish he asked Gunn to come with him when he left, come after him when he was gone, leave with him tonight.
Gunn's exploring Lindsey's body like he's never seen it before, never licked and touched and kissed every inch of it. But the proof that he's done all of that is in the way he knows just where to lick, where to touch, and where to kiss.
And Lindsey wants to do some of it in return, except that Gunn's making his head swim so fucking much that he can't make his body do anything but respond to what Gunn's doing.
Gunn looks up from sucking at the back of Lindsey's knee, says, "Let me have this, Linds."
It makes Lindsey's clouded head turn in circles, because Gunn's taking from him and giving to him at the same time--and that's not unusual, because that's just Gunn--but what he's taking isn't what Lindsey's used to. In fact, Lindsey can't figure what the hell Gunn's taking at all.
"Have what?" he manages to ask.
"This," Gunn whispers, then sucks again and watches Lindsey's body shake and tremble. "And this," he goes on, scraping his nail lightly along Lindsey's thigh and watching Lindsey's back arch.
Something else Lindsey doesn't have a frame of reference for, but that he's more than willing to go along with.
It's a haze of sensations and uncontrolled reactions, and Lindsey gets lost in it, feels the hard, hot length of Gunn brushing against him, pressing against him, and finds it with his hand. Revels in the soft exhale that comes from Gunn when Lindsey ghosts his fingers along him, reverence and worship a continuing self-fed cycle that feels like it's never going to end.
Gunn tries to turn Lindsey over to focus his attention on Lindsey's back, but Lindsey won't let this be entirely like Gunn wants. Sits up instead and directs one of Gunn's hands to his back, the other to his chest, and Gunn's eyes blaze as he kneels next to Lindsey.
And Lindsey turns his head to the side, gives Gunn his eyes because Gunn always wants Lindsey's eyes, and it's never been like this when they look at each other. It's never been like there's this warm, smoldering thickness that binds them together. It's never been like home.
Lindsey forgets about twisting and writhing between Gunn's hands, and Gunn forgets about moving those hands. They stare at each other, and then Gunn moves real slow. Lowers his head and touches his lips to Lindsey's, and it's like what was strung between their gazes is strung between their lips. Easing off their tongues and passing back and forth as Gunn lays Lindsey down again. Settles between his legs and brings their cocks into contact.
More smoldering home, and Lindsey wants it to never end. Wants them to get caught into a loop and reply this over and over. Never let them get to what comes after, when they put Angel's plan into action.
"Linds," Gunn whispers. "Can't wait no more."
It's Lindsey who gropes for the condom and lube. Passes it to Gunn with hands that aren't all that steady. Watches Gunn sit back and unroll the condom then slick himself up. Watches Gunn put extra on his fingers before tossing the tube aside.
"Missed this," Lindsey tells him. Gunn tilts his head to the side, like a challenge, and Lindsey knows he can't spin it like that when he went ahead and took so damn much from Gunn to start with. "Missed you."
Small smile from Gunn. "Missed you too."
Lindsey starts to turn over, but Gunn places one of those large hands of his on Lindsey's stomach. Holds him in place. And Lindsey knows what it means, before Gunn gives him a steady look and asks if it's okay. Like there's a chance in hell that it's not.
Like it's not the rightest thing in the whole goddamned fucked up world, having Gunn slide his fingers inside, watching Gunn come closer and closer to him, having Gunn's body press him against the mattress, feeling Gunn's cock push into him while staring up into dark brown eyes.
Lindsey's used to out-of-body experiences when Gunn fucks him, but right now it's like he's glued to his skin and he's not going anywhere. He's pinned there under the weight of Gunn's gaze, and he doesn't want to be anywhere else, and for one crazy second, he flashes back to the basement: unable to move while that thing came closer and closer, laying there and waiting for his heart to get ripped out of his chest.
When he blinks it away, Gunn is about to pull out, and that's the last thing that should happen, so Lindsey shakes his head frantically. Wants to touch his heart, Gunn's heart, feel them beating, but he can already feel it where they're joined, and they're pulsing out of synch and there's no space for silence there.
"Linds, should I--"
"No! Fuck no."
Gunn listens to him, thank God, and it's like swaying, rising up to Gunn, falling back to the bed. Taking Gunn in, reluctantly giving him up. Pushing against that pulse, pulling back so that his own can race out of control. And the basement is a distant memory now. Everything is a distant memory except that pulse, the swaying, and the way their gazes are locked.
Sweat's dripping off of Gunn, falling on Lindsey, and he thinks they're tears for a moment and there's a wave of horrified shame that washes over him. He's a selfish bastard, and Gunn's too fucking good to him. Giving Lindsey this in return.
And it's more than home now. It's life. How the hell did he leave this? How the hell will he leave this? Fuck if he knows. Because he doesn't think it'll be possible. Doesn't think all of this...home will disperse when he and Gunn finally look away, finally separate their bodies.
Gunn starts moving faster and harder and deeper all at once, and they curse and whisper and press tightly to each other. And this is something Lindsey will do anything to keep--this roiling sensation of home and belonging that he feels with Gunn.
"Touch yourself, Linds. Want you with me."
Lindsey strokes himself in time with Gunn's thrusts, more pulsing, more swaying. It's peace and this is why he couldn't find any when he was away. Everything makes sense and it builds inevitably in Lindsey, sinking away from elsewhere and pooling in his stomach, shooting down to his cock.
Darla and Eve. Exile and revenge. Angel and Wolfram & Hart. Gunn was right. None of it matters. Not in the face of this. And maybe he gets the other stuff now. Maybe he knows what all the shit that Angel spewed at him, and he zoned out for, is about. Because there isn't anything he wouldn't do for this.
They're just moving now, letting their bodies do what they will, and Lindsey knows the movements, because the movements are Gunn and Lindsey: rough around the edges, real and harsh, easy and gentle. It's them, pulsing and roiling and brazen, with whisper-gasps saying everything and nothing, and blue pinned by brown. It's never-meant-to-be feeling so damned good and right, and two people, who never should have had a word to share with each other, sharing the best damn thing Lindsey's ever had.
And when Lindsey comes while staring up at Gunn, it's like he's letting everything else go except what he's clenching so hard to keep. Gunn jerks forward, freezes, then shudders, and Lindsey thinks of benediction and grace and baptism--things that he hasn't thought about since he was living back home and his mama was still alive--and how they're always kept from him by the thinnest of barriers
But then Gunn collapses on him, and Lindsey knows that this time it's not sweat that's falling on his forehead, and he can't deny it anymore. Opens his mouth, but Gunn leans over and covers it again.
Looks at Lindsey with warm, haunted eyes. "I know, Linds."
*
End
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