fic: Hand Job
A short fic I wrote for the Wanted, Dead or Alive prompt at "the_elevator," a Lindsey (character from Angel) community.
Title: Hand Job
Author: celtic_forest
Pairing: Lindsey/Spike
Rating: R
Length: 410 words
A/N: I own nothing but a mortgage
Lindsey always masturbated with his left hand these days. At first there was the whole not letting a hand that says "Kill, Kill" near his dick aspect. But then, and forever in his mind, there was the face of a tortured soul in a ravaged body begging for the release of death. There was an explosion that would always burn in his memory. He was wearing a dead hand, and there were some things he just didn't do with it, because it wasn't his.
***
"There, pet, you feel that right down to your cock, yeah?" Spike sucked and licked the little finger of Lindsey's right hand, his intimate touch and soft voice winning a hitch in Lindsey's breath.
Spike moved on to the ring finger, circling his tongue around the sensitive pad of the fingerprint.
Lindsey's middle finger disappeared between Spike's lips as he sucked it down, then tickled up from the bottom, darting little touches and circles with his tongue, his blue eyes holding Lindsey's own with a lover's intensity. Lindsey's answering moan was spurred partly by the sensation on his finger, and partly by the thought of that mouth, that tongue, repeating the performance on his erection.
Spike was right, each wet, sensual touch set off an electric current that had him hard already, even twitching within his too-tight jeans when Spike hummed around his index finger.
The resemblance to child-like thumb sucking was belied when Spike nipped Lindsey's thumb, making him cry out his name. God, Lindsey thought, how was it he could light fire to his whole body without touching him anywhere else?
Spike gently blew across the saliva-wet fingers, making them tingle before he folded them within his own. "You feel that, love?" Lindsey quivered in response, his eyes still locked with Spike's, his breathing rapid and his body aching for more.
"Maybe I'm no expert on living, but I reckon you feel awake, alive with want." Spike interlocked their fingers, creating a single fist, and squeezed. "This is a living part of you, not a dead thing you wear." Spike stroked his face with the back of Lindsey's hand, leaning his head into the touch, then brought Lindsey's hand down to cup him and feel how hard Spike was. "It's a part of you I love."
When Spike kissed his palm, Lindsey shuddered, then finally reached out. He slid his hand around the back of Spike's neck, feeling cool skin and the tickle of soft hair. He pulled Spike's face to his own and just before their lips touched he whispered, "thank you."
Title: Hand Job
Author: celtic_forest
Pairing: Lindsey/Spike
Rating: R
Length: 410 words
A/N: I own nothing but a mortgage
Lindsey always masturbated with his left hand these days. At first there was the whole not letting a hand that says "Kill, Kill" near his dick aspect. But then, and forever in his mind, there was the face of a tortured soul in a ravaged body begging for the release of death. There was an explosion that would always burn in his memory. He was wearing a dead hand, and there were some things he just didn't do with it, because it wasn't his.
***
"There, pet, you feel that right down to your cock, yeah?" Spike sucked and licked the little finger of Lindsey's right hand, his intimate touch and soft voice winning a hitch in Lindsey's breath.
Spike moved on to the ring finger, circling his tongue around the sensitive pad of the fingerprint.
Lindsey's middle finger disappeared between Spike's lips as he sucked it down, then tickled up from the bottom, darting little touches and circles with his tongue, his blue eyes holding Lindsey's own with a lover's intensity. Lindsey's answering moan was spurred partly by the sensation on his finger, and partly by the thought of that mouth, that tongue, repeating the performance on his erection.
Spike was right, each wet, sensual touch set off an electric current that had him hard already, even twitching within his too-tight jeans when Spike hummed around his index finger.
The resemblance to child-like thumb sucking was belied when Spike nipped Lindsey's thumb, making him cry out his name. God, Lindsey thought, how was it he could light fire to his whole body without touching him anywhere else?
Spike gently blew across the saliva-wet fingers, making them tingle before he folded them within his own. "You feel that, love?" Lindsey quivered in response, his eyes still locked with Spike's, his breathing rapid and his body aching for more.
"Maybe I'm no expert on living, but I reckon you feel awake, alive with want." Spike interlocked their fingers, creating a single fist, and squeezed. "This is a living part of you, not a dead thing you wear." Spike stroked his face with the back of Lindsey's hand, leaning his head into the touch, then brought Lindsey's hand down to cup him and feel how hard Spike was. "It's a part of you I love."
When Spike kissed his palm, Lindsey shuddered, then finally reached out. He slid his hand around the back of Spike's neck, feeling cool skin and the tickle of soft hair. He pulled Spike's face to his own and just before their lips touched he whispered, "thank you."