Left Without The Power to Stop it
Title: Left Without The Power to Stop it
Fandom: HIGNFY
Pairing: Paul/Angus
Rating: ...
Some Info: I started this last year and it's taken me a while to finish it. Blame school for that.
Summary: Damn the effects of cocaine!
Disclaimer: This never happened and is a work of fiction. I am making NO money from this and mean NO offence by it either.
He winced as a dull pain pressed against his back. Paul’s hand had him firmly pressed against the wall.
“Fuck off Merton”, Angus choked through a cough of blood. Paul put more pressure on his colleagues chest, getting ready to send another punch his way.
“You waiting for a reaction?” the presenter chortled, malevolently. The remark cut through Paul and he stopped restraining himself, letting his fist collide with Angus’ face again. He felt a rivulet of blood roll down his cheek over the sore red bruises.
“You prat”, Paul muttered, head down. Angus exhaled as Paul relieved him from some pressure. The presenter’s bruises were throbbing painfully as if his bones had been scraped.
“I should have seen this coming a long time ago”, Paul continued, head still down. Angus winced at the emphasis he put on the word “long”.
“Bloody Angus Deayton… You always let your pride go to your fucking head so what do you do? You sniff a little white powder”
“What’s your point?” Angus said mockingly.
“Oh for fuck’s sake…”
Paul had always hated that about him. Always so cold, arrogant…
“It didn’t make you feel better though, did it?”
“Actually… It did…”, Angus sniggered, rubbing his nose. Suddenly the shorter man burst out laughing manically, rolling his eyes, squeezing Paul’s arms as if he would collapse with laughter. Paul allowed him to sink to his knees, gripped in an amazing high.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” Paul snapped, scowling disapprovingly at Angus’ face, creased with laughter.
Angus’s sharp exhales through his nose, echoed around the small room.
“You prat…” Paul whispered, hearing his words faintly through Angus’ amusement.
The taller man couldn’t help but look at Angus with a mix of pity as well as worry. He was curled up into a ball, crying with laughter into his knees.
Why? Maybe hurting him a bit just made him feel better. Paul’s eyes ran over the other man’s body. A black eye, a mix of dark purple and grey dented around his eye. Red patches overlapped on his cheeks making them look more painful. A stream of blood trickling over his bottom lip, down his neck and coming to a final stain on his shirt. Angus’ manic giggles continued to echo around the room.
“I suppose you did all that for the telly, eh? Yes, that is you all over. Even when we’re not recording, you still seem to talk like you’re reading from the autocue”, Paul muttered.
“W-what… W-what… D-Did you s-say-… Hahahahaha”, Angus tried to retort but gave up, not wanting to lose his incredible rush. It was all like a dream. A dream that you still think is real even when you break away from sleep. It takes you a while to register what’s going on but this was real. Different. If it was a dream they could have verbalized what they wanted but no. This was reality. One simple slip of the tongue and anything could occur.
The blue eyed man dropped to his knees like he had been tripped over, collapsing onto Angus.
The large room fell deathly silent after the presenter’s almost insane laughter ended.
“Why’d you do it?” Paul asked softly, hesitating before putting his hand on the other’s shoulder.
“I don’t know.” Angus sounded tired as he coughed his answer out.
“I suppose you’re right”, Paul agreed. Paul calmly helped Angus into a sitting position where the sorrowful look in his dark eyes was plainly visible.
The taller man couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt somewhere inside. Some heavy feeling was stirring inside. Before he knew it, he had gingerly pressed his lips against the shorter man’s. Paul felt Angus’ body go weak as his tongue rubbed around his mouth at a slow pace. It extended further, curling around his teeth, eager to explore more.
A moan escaped the shorter man’s throat, filling Paul’s mind with so many beautiful thoughts.
The comedian nervously ended their kiss. He could still taste Angus on his lips and he wanted more. The wet sound that ceased their kiss, still rang in Paul’s ears.
“Now I know why you didn’t want to leave so soon”, Angus swallowed, catching some of Paul’s saliva from his bloodied lips.
“That’s not it!” Paul protested uncertainly.
“Uh-huh. Of course”. Angus’ reply was ripe with mockery. He unsteadily forced his aching body to stand up. Paul promptly sprang to his feet.
“Look, you look knackered. My house is closer than your’s”, he pleaded. Angus turned to face him, his lips curving into a smug “I know what you have in mind” look and he didn’t look as if he was going to comply.
“No thanks Paul. The last time we fucked-… Well, you know”, the shorter man yawned, casually leaning on the window sill.
“No. I don’t”. He was just being difficult again. That’s what he did when he didn’t get his answers immediately.
“Not really anyway”, Paul added sheepishly, catching the penetrating flicker in the other’s dark eyes that he just wanted to fall into. To give into. And let it all happen again.
“Right. I’ll be going now. Bye”, Angus piped with mock politeness. As he reached the old dishevelled door, again he felt Paul grip his shoulder firmly, digging his fingers in as if he wanted Angus to express some sign that he was hurting him.
“You’ve punched and kicked me and you think that’s going to hurt?” Angus scoffed. His voice cracked a little. Was it with pain? Sadness? His last sentence was riddled with half-hearted arrogance.
Angus buckled under the taller man’s grasp and collapsed in a heap on the icy cold floor. Paul shook a little and proceeded to look at Angus’s body. In his blue eyes was a mix of sorrow and compassion tainted with pity. For once Paul felt a bit of what Angus must have been struggling with. The shorter man must have felt some dejection to resort to drugs to pick him up a little. And what had he done? He had beaten him. Made the blood that now matted his hair. Formed the bruises that were interspersed across his face. His eyes snapped shut, restraining his tears.
“Fuck”, he gagged through a torrent of tears.
The room was still silent. There was something eerie about the room they were in. It seemed like the cold had stemmed from the very shadows themselves. As the moon slunk past the window and shrouded itself behind a cluster of clouds, Paul stroked the back of Angus’ head gently. He felt Angus quicker as he looked at his hand and saw dry blood smudged across it. Again he felt guilt deep in the pit of his stomach.
“Right. Come on. I’m not leaving you here”, Paul declared, shifting Angus to his feet where he struggled to stay.
“Urgh… Just leave me here…” the shorter man groaned quietly. Paul refused to listen and propped Angus against his shoulder and moved him out the heavy door. “What do you want?!” Angus babbled, tugging at Paul’s hand in an attempt to free himself. In response, the comedian pinned his colleague against the wall.
“I want you! Alright?!”
“No, it’s not alright.”
“Well it was before!”
“I was… I…” Angus failed to finish his sentence. He tilted his head downwards, pretending to be interested in the ground. Paul cupped Angus’ head in his hands.
“It’s okay” he whispered in the other’s ear.
“No it’s not”, Angus said bluntly, eyes closed.
“Why not?” Paul inquired softly. The question was so rhetorical that Paul couldn’t help preventing Angus from responding. He placed his lips gently on his colleagues. They stood there for quite some time not feeling anything but each other’s warmth. Angus closed his eyes as Paul’s tongue rubbed the roof of his mouth causing his pelvic muscles to contract violently.
“I don’t know about you… . But I’m sick of this place. Know anywhere warmer?”
Paul grinned mischievously.
“My flat?”