Spontaneous fic! Angel/Wes ficlet
So I sat down to write a tag and wrote this instead. Enjoy!
Pairing: Angel/Wes with hints of Angel/Buffy
Rating: Maybe R, nothing explicit.
Warning: Light bondage, like I said, nothing explicit. Angsty.
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, never will.
A Ribbon Around Your Neck
The first time, Angel asked for the restraints.
The second time, he begged.
It didn’t take Wesley long to find a magic shop that would charm some bolts of raw silk and make them unbreakable. Leather was too passé and impractical, Wesley felt, and it was almost a challenge to try to get Angel to break the silk. Something so flimsy and ephemeral, and vampire strength could do nothing to it.
Wesley always did like a challenge.
Before Wesley could obtain the silk (yards and yards flowing over his palm, blackened wine and burnt sunlight as he told the clerk he’d have one of each: Night and Day) Angel broke a headboard and two night tables. Wesley’s ties had been in shreds.
It was beautiful.
Angel would start silent, naked, then burn to a fever pitch under Wesley’s hands, body humming, sparking with the ache to move and flow and break Wesley’s heart.
That, neither would be able to withstand.
Angel couldn’t give himself any more than Wesley could take him. But Wesley felt it, the way Angel’s gaze lingered over Wesley’s wrist or shoulder as he set up the long drapes of silk so that Angel could move, but not too far. Could participate, but not act. Wesley felt the care. He had no desire to break or be broken.
So they hid behind the ropes.
Let them talk, mark their skin. It was a language of rubbing, straining, stripping down the layers until blood swirled into the midnight lines and blossomed over dawn’s tendrils.
They rocked and struggled and sweat beneath those strands of impossible strength and fragility, the loops and knots slipping an anchor of safety over them. Safety they knew they didn’t have and couldn’t afford. Neither could be safe.
Wesley knew it was the last time when Angel asked for a single thread of morning to keep with him. Remind him.
Who needs reminders of the present?
Wesley could only nod and pull a wire of crackled, vibrant yellow from their ties. Angel was patiently still, and held out his hand. Wesley tied it around Angel’s finger and slipped her promise ring back over top of it.
He was the one who was closer. Wesley could console himself with that.
His length of Night was stolen under his wrist, beneath his watch, so he would never know when it would come time to untie it, let himself break.
Pairing: Angel/Wes with hints of Angel/Buffy
Rating: Maybe R, nothing explicit.
Warning: Light bondage, like I said, nothing explicit. Angsty.
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, never will.
A Ribbon Around Your Neck
The first time, Angel asked for the restraints.
The second time, he begged.
It didn’t take Wesley long to find a magic shop that would charm some bolts of raw silk and make them unbreakable. Leather was too passé and impractical, Wesley felt, and it was almost a challenge to try to get Angel to break the silk. Something so flimsy and ephemeral, and vampire strength could do nothing to it.
Wesley always did like a challenge.
Before Wesley could obtain the silk (yards and yards flowing over his palm, blackened wine and burnt sunlight as he told the clerk he’d have one of each: Night and Day) Angel broke a headboard and two night tables. Wesley’s ties had been in shreds.
It was beautiful.
Angel would start silent, naked, then burn to a fever pitch under Wesley’s hands, body humming, sparking with the ache to move and flow and break Wesley’s heart.
That, neither would be able to withstand.
Angel couldn’t give himself any more than Wesley could take him. But Wesley felt it, the way Angel’s gaze lingered over Wesley’s wrist or shoulder as he set up the long drapes of silk so that Angel could move, but not too far. Could participate, but not act. Wesley felt the care. He had no desire to break or be broken.
So they hid behind the ropes.
Let them talk, mark their skin. It was a language of rubbing, straining, stripping down the layers until blood swirled into the midnight lines and blossomed over dawn’s tendrils.
They rocked and struggled and sweat beneath those strands of impossible strength and fragility, the loops and knots slipping an anchor of safety over them. Safety they knew they didn’t have and couldn’t afford. Neither could be safe.
Wesley knew it was the last time when Angel asked for a single thread of morning to keep with him. Remind him.
Who needs reminders of the present?
Wesley could only nod and pull a wire of crackled, vibrant yellow from their ties. Angel was patiently still, and held out his hand. Wesley tied it around Angel’s finger and slipped her promise ring back over top of it.
He was the one who was closer. Wesley could console himself with that.
His length of Night was stolen under his wrist, beneath his watch, so he would never know when it would come time to untie it, let himself break.