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Fissure
by Ice
EMAIL: ice001nz@yahoo.com
RATING: NC17 for m/m slash and language
DISCLAIMERS: They don't belong to me but to David Greenwalt and Joss,
sue me and you might make my day....mmmm lawyers....mmmmm
DISTRIBUTION: Ask and you shall receive....
SPOILERS: Not really...if anything just general Angel season 1 (we
haven't had S2 in NZ yet...)
PAIRING: L/A/W (in different combinations, not all together)
SUMMARY: Wesley...angst...lawyers...
DEDICATION: Thanks to ethrosdemon for the stellar beta, Paul for holding
my hand when I was ready to give up and to Donna for putting up with
my email rants...
But most of all this is for ethrosdemon and Lar, whose L/X trilogy
inspired me to write and made me go gaga for the fabulous Mr
McDonald...
Improv No 14: hidden/jade/memento/possession.
= = = = =
When it comes to Angel, he amazes even himself at the depths he will
sink to. His behaviour is so out of character for him, if there was
one thing that Wesley Wyndham-Pryce never considered himself to be,
it was a voyeur.
Like sneaking in at night, into the building which is both office and
home to his employer, hidden from view and that preternatural sense
of smell, listening to the few words that are spoken and staring open-
mouthed as both Angel and his lover hastily remove their clothes,
kissing violently, mouth fucking mouth, moaning, hands everywhere.
Wesley touches his lips, caressing them with his fingers, visualising
what it would feel like for them to be touched and bruised with that
mouth, the mouth that is now bruising the lips of the enemy.
When the lawyer is pushed roughly onto the desk and the dark vampire
looks down on him with that lustful half-smile before laving his neck
with his tongue, thrusting into him painfully hard, Wesley can feel
the muscles in his ass contract, imagining it's him bent over the
desk, being fucked so brutally.
He never remembers it happening, but in the midst of watching, he has
managed to unzip his pants and is not only watching the scene, but
stroking himself. Long, hard strokes that push him closer and closer
to the edge, and watching, waiting for Angel's release.
And as Lindsey climaxes, moaning Angel's name over and over , then
and only then will Wesley allow himself to give into his own orgasm,
biting back his cries, for a moment truly believing that it was the
actions of his employer and not his own hand that facilitated his
release.
But then cold reality consumes him and he has to accept that it is
not his body that has been made love to (if making love is an apt
description for the wanton act he has witnessed) but the body
belonging to the man Angel professes to hate more than anyone else in
the world.
Wesley alone knows that the hatred between the two of them is
reserved for business, that's all it is to them and when business is
finished, they are allowed to play.
And how much does that burn? That the man whose sole purpose in life
is to destroy Angel, is the one sharing his bed. The fact that Angel
shows so little regard for the others around him, that he would let
in this man who has caused so much pain.
Or is it just that Lindsey's bad points are immediately forgotten in
the middle of a good hard fuck?
The lawyer always comes to Angel, (god forbid that stoic creature
would give in) loosens his tie and bats his impossibly long
eyelashes. Christ, if he were a woman he'd be considered a whore.
Flirts with him (again with the whoring), that southern accent
absolutely dripping with innuendo, thick like molasses. Always
says "Angel, are you going to invite me in?" like HE'S the fucking
vampire not the other way round and Wesley realises that he
unreservedly despises him.
Not because he's evil, but because he's an arrogant prick with oh-so-
potent sexuality, a package worthy of Angelus, Angel and Liam. Oh
yes, the unholy trinity, they all crave that young man. Who wouldn't?
He reminds the ex-watcher of the golden boys he went to University
with. The ones with the loving daddies and mummies, the ridiculously
expensive cars and wardrobes, perfect girlfriends, perfect bodies,
perfect fucking everything.
Those boys who would catch his sideways glances in the changing
rooms, *What are you some kind of poof?* remove his trunks *Oh yeah,
he's hot for it, all right.* and grip his hands behind his back *Come
on Wyndham-Pryce take it like a fucking man*.
And he craved their attention, craved them bullying, humiliating,
fucking him, because they were just so goddamned beautiful and
perfect and like nothing he could ever hope to be in his life.
And oh yes, Lindsey McDonald is just like them, he may not have the
privileged background, but you wouldn't know it to look at him.
Perfect fucking everything, he can't blame the souled vampire for
wanting him, the lawyer who is Angel's obsession.
How could he even hope to compete? Compete with that silky smooth,
beautiful man with the big blue eyes and the mouth that promises so
much sin? Oh no, he doesn't even come close. And then there's the
goddamned ruthlessness of the young lawyer, arrogant to a fault,
those traits that Angel's demon identifies so easily with.
Yes, Wesley wants to be that whore with the perfect body, to be able
to give himself to Angel to be his possession to use as he wishes.
He imagines being taken the way Lindsey always is, fast, hard, brutal
and begging for more. Oh yes, he wants to be used so much.
**********************************
"So that's it then, Wesley...Wesley???"
"Sorry?" He snaps out of his reverie, realising that it is not night
and he is not watching Angel pound mercilessly into the lawyer, but
sitting in the office in the middle of a very important meeting, one
of those debriefing sessions designed for Angel to focus on the
problem at hand; Wolfram and Hart (of course, who else?) and he
realises that people are watching him and he is blushing and very,
very hard.
"Wesley, have you heard a word I've said? Sometimes I swear it's like
I'm talking to myself." Looks up and sees Cordelia, garish pink shirt
almost blinding him, Wesley can just feel the disapproval rolling off
her in waves.
Angel's eyes focus on him, bore into him, can't see what's behind
those eyes and this is all too much, he can't swallow and his ears
are starting to ring.
"I'm sorry, I...I don't feel very well". Runs to the bathroom,
hoping against hope that he has not been followed. *Yeah, sure
Wesley. Why would anyone follow you?* Shuts the door behind him and
leans against the wall, taking off his glasses before banging his
head against it several times, feeling the blood trickle down from
his forehead.
Turns to face the door and allows himself to slide onto the floor
with a painful thud, starting to cry, weep like a child. His
father's words echo in his head: *For God's sake boy, pull yourself
together, you're a man aren't you?*
****************************************
Night again, and he wonders if there's more to life than this.
Forever sleepwalking through the day at work, the journey home and
through the evening meal, so jaded and worn, an utterly meaningless
existence, all that he lives for is the night, when he can once again
be that desperate creature who watches the man he adores with someone
else, someone he professes to despise.
He can't believe he's been reduced to this again, watching the two of
them, bringing himself to orgasm like some mindless zombie. It's so
sordid, it makes him sick to his stomach that this is what he's come
to.
And when it is over he hastily makes for the exit, rubbing the cut on
his forehead. A stark memento of his self-loathing and he wonders
how Angel would react if he could see the blood, smell it, taste it.
But this time there's a hand holding the door shut, barring his
escape and oh no, he's not sleepwalking, not in a trance now, all he
can feel is terror, absolute blind fucking panic because he's been
found out, and he feels like a 10 year old whose been caught doing
something he shouldn't have, caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
"Oh Wesley" and it's not Angel's voice smirking at him.
He opens his mouth, but his throat's so dry that nothing comes out,
he just stands there, mouth opening and shutting like a fish. He
looks around for Angel, but he's not there, must've gone to bed
already and that's good, that's better, but from the look on the
prick's face he's thinking there's no such thing as better.
Wesley feels him moving in, predatorily. Invading his space, can feel
him too close. Smell overpowering his senses. Whiskey and sweat,
underneath it all ... him. Knows that the man before him wears his
scent. Angel's pleasure staining him, he reeks of it. Claim in place,
mocking Wesley. So close, breath on his already reddening cheeks.
Laughter rings cruelly in his ears, mocking again, just the way he
knew it would.
Lindsey's lips move towards his ear and Wesley knows that this
creature isn't going to let him go until he's had his fun. "Poor
Wesley, so not good enough for him, so inadequate. What made you
think he'd want you when he has me?"
And when Wesley doesn't answer, Lindsey strokes the Englishman's
cheek with the heel of his hand, just like he would stroke a pet and
rubs his hips against Wesley's so that Wesley can feel the outline of
Lindsey's erection through his trousers. "This is what he wants
Wesley, and I gotta tell ya no-one sucks cock like him."
Noting the ex-watcher's hips starting to move of their own volition,
the lawyer rubs against him harder and tilts Wesley's neck so that he
can attack it with his lips.
Wesley tries to push Lindsey away, but the lawyer pushes him back to
the wall.
"Come on Wesley, just pretend I'm him, it's so easy."
Lindsey's lifting up his shirt and attacking first one, then the
other nipple with his tongue, nibbling, sucking, biting. "Yeah Wes,
he loves to use his mouth. Of course he does, vampire? Oral
fixation, right?"
He tries not to, doesn't want to do what he says, doesn't want to
give him the satisfaction, but his body isn't listening to his head,
his body wants to believe it's Angel and he can't control it, starts
to moan.
Lindsey laughs, "Oh Wesley, you do have it bad, don't you? I can
understand, you know. He's so fucking beautiful, so incredible and
that body of his? Mmmm...just made for sex, he's so damn good, when
he's inside me I swear I'm gonna give it all up, that's what it's
like for you too, isn't it? You'd give up everything for him???"
Wesley nods, eyes closed, mouth open and he's so close to coming now
he can feel it, the relentless friction of Lindsey's cock against
his, that voice teasing him with those thoughts of Angel that he has
every day, every night and oh god, he's so close, so close...
He's coming and Lindsey's fucking his mouth with his tongue and he's
more disgusted with himself than he's ever been, because just for a
minute he really thought that it was Angel kissing him, touching him
and he's allowed the enemy in, allowed him to be part of his most
private thoughts.
"He knows." Lindsey throws over his shoulder as he opens the door,
then turns towards a shame-faced Wesley, laughing. "He knows that
you watch us, and he still won't let you inside, never will. I don't
know what's more pathetic, the fact that you stand there every night
jerking off in the dark, or the fact that you thought you could get
away with it."
Wesley turns his head away from him, but it's too late and the tears
that spill down his cheeks have been noticed. And this makes Lindsey
smile like Wesley has never seen and the perfect lawyer with the
perfect smile turns to walk out the door.
"Oh, and just one more thing Wesley..."
"You taste real sweet...but not sweet enough".
-finis
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