Ficlet - In That Mask - M
Title: In That Mask
Character(s): Philip Burton, James Lester
Warnings: BDSM themes. Implied repeat dub-con/non-con (and written from perpetrator's pov).
Rating: M (mature, sexual themes, BDSM themes)
Spoilers: 4x03 - necessary to have seen, is set right afterwards.
Beta(s): Thanks to kerry_louise for looking it over!
Author's Notes: Finally, the sequel to my previous Burton/Lester fic Enjoy the Abuse. Still not smutty, I'm afraid, but Philip decided his PoV deserved a shot, and I wasn't about to say no. *g*
Disclaimer: Not mine, never mine, don't sue. Entertainment only (or something like that). Title and cut lyrics still from Enjoy the Abuse by Combichrist. (What? It's a good song!)
Summary: Philip's had a hard day at work.
He’d never expected this to become so addicting. He wasn’t even sure exactly what this was, and Philip Burton did not like not knowing something. Not that he hadn’t done things like this before, of course. He had. When he deemed it necessary. The fact that such... interactions scratched a certain itch was merely a pleasurable side benefit.
Or so he liked to tell himself. But Philip was not a fool - he knew self-delusion when he saw it. It was just that sometimes it was just much easier to float in that delusion. Like now. He was tense, too tense. Tense and exhausted and frustrated and angry and even a little embarrassed. But mostly angry and frustrated. At himself, at the ARC, at Connor Temple, at that damned lizard, and at what he almost revealed.
The lizard, of course, would be dealt with. Why it was allowed to roam free, Philip didn’t know. He should have been thinking up ways to deal with the creature problem, but he couldn’t think, his head just wasn’t clear, the knot of anger sitting heavy in his chest was distracting, very distracting, and he knew just what he needed to do to get rid of it.
He always felt better for putting things in order, putting them where they should be, and especially for putting certain people in positions far more suited to them than their usual circumstances. He’d never been this... involved before, with an employee, not to this extent. But then, he wasn’t just any employee - he was a wild card, not officially in Prospero’s employ, a necessary nuisance that he had to put up with to keep the ARC program under Prospero’s control. And perhaps for those very reasons, he was all the more satisfying to bring down to his knees.
As the chauffeur pulled into the car park of the upscale flats, Philip looked up and a small smile crossed his face. It was perhaps worrying, but even just the now-familiar sight of James Lester’s residence made him feel a little better.
The receptionist at the front desk waved him through with a pleasant smile and, not for the first time, Philip considered buying up this particular building. The staff was most co-operative and discrete, but he would really much prefer to have his Pet living on premises owned by Prospero. Perhaps that would be his birthday present to himself.
Filing the thought away for further perusal, along with all considerations of life-threatening creatures, Philip hit the button on the lift and took a deep breath. On the ride up, he leaned his head back against the wall, breathing deep and struggling to clear his thoughts. To focus in on just what he wanted to do with his Pet this night.
Heat was already pooling in his groin as he strode to the door and tried the handle. Locked. No problem at all, of course, as he had a key, but unusual. James had been rather more insolent than usual of late, ever since Maitland and Temple had stumbled back through that anomaly. Frowning, Philip opened the door and entered the flat.
It was empty. He glanced over at the clock. Nearly 8:00 PM. Well. His frown deepening, Philip crossed the room to settle down into the armchair. James had only been in the city, playing nice with his assorted political masters and governmental colleagues. He shouldn’t be this late. The knot of anger in his chest cooled, solidified into something tighter, more focused. His Pet was late and that was out of line.
He had to wait nearly an entire half-hour, and with each minute that passed, Philip became more and more irritated. It wasn’t the distracting, fear-tinged irritation of earlier, but the more familiar, pleasant one of irritation at a recalcitrant pet. That was something he could use, something he could control.
~
The handle turned, paused. Philip sat up straighter, then as the door opened, lounged back in the chair. Lester stepped in then halted, just barely over the threshold. A prickle of excitement raced down Philip’s spine, as he watched James’ reaction; watched the nervous bob of his Adam’s apple, the way his hand clenched on the door handle, the stiffening of his posture, the way fear and guilt flashed across his face, so obvious, so... arousing.
He met James’ gaze steady on and smiled, just a little, just enough for Lester to swallow again, lips thinning, clenching. But again, as last time, he didn’t drop his eyes. Annoyance shot through him, and Philip frowned slightly, without thinking. But no, no weakness. He was the one in control. And though it grated to have to do so after so many months of training his Pet, he spoke.
“I’ve had a very trying day, you know. Very trying. I almost- almost died.”
Damn. A brief stutter. But James doesn’t seem to have noticed, possibly (hopefully) caught off guard by his tone. Good.
“You will serve me tonight,” Philip continues, his voice soft. Then he pauses. Waits. Deliberate, demanding.
Lester’s gaze drops, he steps in just far enough to close the door and sets his briefcase down. Philip watches, eyes intent, heart pounding. Lester’s hands flex, clench. He licks his lips, his gaze flickers to the side. Then he drops. Down, on to his knees, the motion smooth with practice, the knees of his finely tailored suit crumpling against the carpet.
As his head drops too, exposing the back of his neck, letting his hair fall forward, Philip feels his cock swell to full hardness and his world crystallizes around him, the lingering fear from this afternoon past finally clearing. He rises to his feet, closes the distance between them swiftly and runs his hand through his Pet’s hair. He lets it rest on the back of the skull, just above where neck meets head. The curve there fits his hand well, Philip thinks. It always has.
“Oh, we will have fun tonight, Pet. Won’t we?”
Lester’s voice is low, quiet. Shaken.
“Yes, Master.”
Character(s): Philip Burton, James Lester
Warnings: BDSM themes. Implied repeat dub-con/non-con (and written from perpetrator's pov).
Rating: M (mature, sexual themes, BDSM themes)
Spoilers: 4x03 - necessary to have seen, is set right afterwards.
Beta(s): Thanks to kerry_louise for looking it over!
Author's Notes: Finally, the sequel to my previous Burton/Lester fic Enjoy the Abuse. Still not smutty, I'm afraid, but Philip decided his PoV deserved a shot, and I wasn't about to say no. *g*
Disclaimer: Not mine, never mine, don't sue. Entertainment only (or something like that). Title and cut lyrics still from Enjoy the Abuse by Combichrist. (What? It's a good song!)
Summary: Philip's had a hard day at work.
He’d never expected this to become so addicting. He wasn’t even sure exactly what this was, and Philip Burton did not like not knowing something. Not that he hadn’t done things like this before, of course. He had. When he deemed it necessary. The fact that such... interactions scratched a certain itch was merely a pleasurable side benefit.
Or so he liked to tell himself. But Philip was not a fool - he knew self-delusion when he saw it. It was just that sometimes it was just much easier to float in that delusion. Like now. He was tense, too tense. Tense and exhausted and frustrated and angry and even a little embarrassed. But mostly angry and frustrated. At himself, at the ARC, at Connor Temple, at that damned lizard, and at what he almost revealed.
The lizard, of course, would be dealt with. Why it was allowed to roam free, Philip didn’t know. He should have been thinking up ways to deal with the creature problem, but he couldn’t think, his head just wasn’t clear, the knot of anger sitting heavy in his chest was distracting, very distracting, and he knew just what he needed to do to get rid of it.
He always felt better for putting things in order, putting them where they should be, and especially for putting certain people in positions far more suited to them than their usual circumstances. He’d never been this... involved before, with an employee, not to this extent. But then, he wasn’t just any employee - he was a wild card, not officially in Prospero’s employ, a necessary nuisance that he had to put up with to keep the ARC program under Prospero’s control. And perhaps for those very reasons, he was all the more satisfying to bring down to his knees.
As the chauffeur pulled into the car park of the upscale flats, Philip looked up and a small smile crossed his face. It was perhaps worrying, but even just the now-familiar sight of James Lester’s residence made him feel a little better.
The receptionist at the front desk waved him through with a pleasant smile and, not for the first time, Philip considered buying up this particular building. The staff was most co-operative and discrete, but he would really much prefer to have his Pet living on premises owned by Prospero. Perhaps that would be his birthday present to himself.
Filing the thought away for further perusal, along with all considerations of life-threatening creatures, Philip hit the button on the lift and took a deep breath. On the ride up, he leaned his head back against the wall, breathing deep and struggling to clear his thoughts. To focus in on just what he wanted to do with his Pet this night.
Heat was already pooling in his groin as he strode to the door and tried the handle. Locked. No problem at all, of course, as he had a key, but unusual. James had been rather more insolent than usual of late, ever since Maitland and Temple had stumbled back through that anomaly. Frowning, Philip opened the door and entered the flat.
It was empty. He glanced over at the clock. Nearly 8:00 PM. Well. His frown deepening, Philip crossed the room to settle down into the armchair. James had only been in the city, playing nice with his assorted political masters and governmental colleagues. He shouldn’t be this late. The knot of anger in his chest cooled, solidified into something tighter, more focused. His Pet was late and that was out of line.
He had to wait nearly an entire half-hour, and with each minute that passed, Philip became more and more irritated. It wasn’t the distracting, fear-tinged irritation of earlier, but the more familiar, pleasant one of irritation at a recalcitrant pet. That was something he could use, something he could control.
~
The handle turned, paused. Philip sat up straighter, then as the door opened, lounged back in the chair. Lester stepped in then halted, just barely over the threshold. A prickle of excitement raced down Philip’s spine, as he watched James’ reaction; watched the nervous bob of his Adam’s apple, the way his hand clenched on the door handle, the stiffening of his posture, the way fear and guilt flashed across his face, so obvious, so... arousing.
He met James’ gaze steady on and smiled, just a little, just enough for Lester to swallow again, lips thinning, clenching. But again, as last time, he didn’t drop his eyes. Annoyance shot through him, and Philip frowned slightly, without thinking. But no, no weakness. He was the one in control. And though it grated to have to do so after so many months of training his Pet, he spoke.
“I’ve had a very trying day, you know. Very trying. I almost- almost died.”
Damn. A brief stutter. But James doesn’t seem to have noticed, possibly (hopefully) caught off guard by his tone. Good.
“You will serve me tonight,” Philip continues, his voice soft. Then he pauses. Waits. Deliberate, demanding.
Lester’s gaze drops, he steps in just far enough to close the door and sets his briefcase down. Philip watches, eyes intent, heart pounding. Lester’s hands flex, clench. He licks his lips, his gaze flickers to the side. Then he drops. Down, on to his knees, the motion smooth with practice, the knees of his finely tailored suit crumpling against the carpet.
As his head drops too, exposing the back of his neck, letting his hair fall forward, Philip feels his cock swell to full hardness and his world crystallizes around him, the lingering fear from this afternoon past finally clearing. He rises to his feet, closes the distance between them swiftly and runs his hand through his Pet’s hair. He lets it rest on the back of the skull, just above where neck meets head. The curve there fits his hand well, Philip thinks. It always has.
“Oh, we will have fun tonight, Pet. Won’t we?”
Lester’s voice is low, quiet. Shaken.
“Yes, Master.”