Pick Your Poison
Title: Pick Your Poison
Author: jaune_chat
Fandoms: Heroes
Characters/Pairings: Nathan/Angela
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 2,598
Spoilers: None specific, pre-series
Warnings: Dub-con, incest, whipping/flogging, toys, forced orgasm, mind-fuck, abuse of OTC medications
Disclaimer: Heroes belongs to Tim Kring, NBC et al
A/N: Thanks to redandglenda and brighteyed_jill for betaing! Written for crashgirl82 for heroes_exchange.
Summary: Angela wants her son to be strong. Nathan has to choose how strong he can be.
The Plaza Hotel. The finest hotel in the city for their family, discrete and well-appointed, with a staff that knew when and how to be absent as well as when it was safe to be deaf and blind. They hadn’t actually acknowledged Nathan’s presence so much as have the manager engage him in some meaningless pleasantries while slipping a room card into his hand. It was a well-worn drill by now.
--------------
He’d been nervous, but hiding it with all the skill he could muster. The last thing he needed anyone to know was that he was meeting his mother in a hotel suite under an assumed name.
--------------
Angela had reserved their usual room, the Presidential Suite. Over the years the décor had changed slightly, always being up-to-the minute in mode and style, but it was always lavish. Brocade curtains, imported silk rugs, antique vases and clocks, paintings worthy of a museum, bathroom done in marble and chrome, the bed fitted with the finest sheets and a decadent velvet duvet. The leather straps on the bedposts were Angela’s addition to the room.
--------------
It was well after midnight, so late no one would think it odd Nathan wasn’t out with his friends or networking at a party.
“Ma? What’s this all about?”
Angela had only smiled and waved for Nathan to sit at the beautifully inlaid table. They picked up their glasses of champagne and sipped while she assessed him over the rim of the flute. Something about her gaze had sent a tendril of cold to tighten Nathan’s stomach. Angela was in her elegant best, a tailored dress of black velvet, her hair done up, a matching set of pearls at her ears, neck, and throat.
“You’re almost ready to graduate college,” she said, her tone a little nostalgic. “I can’t believe how fast the time has gone. I kept putting this off, thinking you wouldn’t need it, but since you’re going to be working with Arthur…” She trailed off thoughtfully, putting up a finger to forestall any comments from him. “You’re a strong man Nathan, but you aren’t strong enough. Neither is Peter-.”
Nathan broke in with an angry protest, but Angela silenced him with a sharp gesture.
“Not strong enough for this world, either of you. Not tough enough to withstand the worst the world can throw at you. The betrayal, the lies, the broken promises; those things can kill you inside. If you can learn to live through the worst that can happen, then nothing can stop you from fulfilling your destiny, Nathan,” Angela said, reaching over to put her hand over her son’s.
Nathan looked back at her, stomach sinking, heart turning to ice. He jerked his hand away and shoved away from the table, glaring at her with disgust. Angela seemed entirely unmoved by the heat of his emotion, only crossed her legs and smiled slightly.
“That’s sick,” Nathan spat, getting to his feet and turning to leave.
“You have a choice, Nathan,” Angela said, before he could take a single step. “You know you need this. You know how hard it is to please your father. I know how much you respect him. He loves you. He wouldn’t want to take care of this himself, but he will, if he has to. Otherwise, he’ll do what we planned originally.”
“Peter,” Nathan whispered, turning back reluctantly.
--------------
Nathan stood in the precise middle of the room, drinking the last of the champagne on the table before putting the flute back in its normal place. Angela only moved once he’d finished, pointing to the bed. Her cheeks were already flushed, and Nathan knew better by now than to hesitate in getting his clothes off. She had said she had something new for him tonight.
--------------
“Toughness is needed, Nathan. Mental toughness to survive what’s coming. I know what you’re going to need,” Angela said. Nathan might have almost believed her pose of a mother administering a punishment to teach a life lesson, if Angela’s eyes hadn’t been glittering with something almost unholy. “Peter needs those lessons too. But you’re the oldest, you can choose your teacher.”
Nathan took a few slow steps forward, anger rising in him, fists clenched at his side. How dare his mother come here and bring him this perverted proposition? How dare she imply that he choose who Peter was to be betrayed by? How dare she?
“This is the first time you’ve been betrayed,” Angela said evenly. “You’re ready to kill me. What would happen the first time this happened in the courtroom? Or in the political arena? You’ll be disgraced at best, killed at worst. You know the kind of life you’re trying to lead, Nathan. You’ll always have enemies, and some of them will be very close to you.”
She closed the gap between them and laid a hand on his chest, the heat of it searing him even though the layers of cloth. It was a possessive gesture, a familiar one, and Nathan’s gorge rose as the truth of Angela’s words penetrated his roiling emotions.
“It will happen, sooner or later, to both of you. I want you both to be ready. Now choose, Nathan,” Angela said, her voice hardening.
Almost any other reasonable person would have shoved away from his perverted mother, gathered his vulnerable younger brother, and left for parts undisclosed, after spilling everything to the police. Nathan suddenly realized that their family was anything but reasonable. The Petrellis were readying themselves for change, big, world-shaking change, and Nathan knew he was going to be the catalyst for it. His family had been honing him into a weapon of change his entire life, readying him for greatness.
Nathan was being primed to be a mover and shaker, and that kind of power didn’t come without a price. How many times had he watched his father or his father’s friend Daniel Linderman easily pick apart someone who didn’t have the strength to stand up to them? Nathan knew he needed to be strong, at almost any price.
“Peter-,” he started. “Don’t-.”
“Nathan, you know it can’t work that way. Arthur and I are a team. He’s going to have his satisfaction one way or the other. And so am I.”
There was no compromise in her voice, no softness in her eyes. Angela refused to yield even the tiniest bit. “You need this, Nathan,” she said, as if it were a foregone conclusion.
------------
He laid back, putting his arms up and letting Angela tighten the wide cuffs around his wrists, then his ankles. They fit into place easily, finding their places that they’d been molded to with years of use. Stretched out and helpless, Nathan watched as Angela uncoiled the thin whip from her large purse. A singletail this time. That meant more pain. A light sheen of sweat broke out over Nathan’s skin as Angela let it sing through the air once to hear its whining tone.
------------
Nathan nodded, flushing alternately red with shame and white with anger. He nodded yes to Angela, and silently begged Peter’s forgiveness. One part of him called him a coward for submitting to his mother, leaving Peter to Arthur’s heavier hand. But Arthur already hated Peter, hated him for his softness, his compassion, his refusal to abide by his father’s rules. Nothing Arthur did to Peter would be a shock. There would be no deep wound of betrayal there, just a logical conclusion to a lifetime of scorn.
Not if it were Angela. If Angela did it, Peter would be devastated. He wouldn’t be able to understand the mother he loved administering such brutal lessons. He wouldn’t realize how subtle she could be, like a serpent, until it was too late. The poison would do its work and stop his heart before he realized he’d been bitten.
Angela read the capitulation in his eyes and smiled slightly. She moved back to the table and poured another glass of champagne. Rummaging around in her handbag, she fished out a single blue pill and put it next to the flute, and looked pointedly at Nathan.
“Drink up, dear.”
Nathan strode over to the table and swallowed the Viagra grimly, gulping back the champagne with no finesse at all. Angela only smiled, and gestured to the bed, pulling out straps of black leather from the depths of her handbag.
------------
Nathan hissed slightly as Angela laid the last stroke of the whip along his thighs. She was an artist with her chosen tools, and his skin was completely intact, other than being covered with a latticework of welts that left his skin feeling like it was on fire, subsiding into a comforting numbness. Or it was, right up until Angela ran her fingernail up his thigh, awaking the over-stimulated nerves and making him gasp and arch against the bed.
He could feel himself rising to unwanted stiffness; the damned drugs had finally taken effect. He wondered if Angela knew why he went through women so quickly, and figured she’d probably guessed. Any man would want to prove to himself that he didn’t need drugs, that he could be desire someone and perform when not under pressure…
Angela’s hand moved to Nathan’s erection, stroking a few times firmly, smiling as Nathan closed his eyes against the unexpected intensity of the sensation. Usually the Viagra dulled sensations a little, making it less immediate, less real, easier to pretend he was simply having some kind of nightmare.
It’s just the drugs, the whipping, she primed me to feel it. She planned it this way. She planned everything, Nathan told himself fiercely.
“Good boy,” Angela said approvingly, and plucked something from the nightstand. Nathan started as she tightened and snapped a leather cock ring around him, groaning at the way it made him feel. Somehow everything became more intense, more immediate, and Nathan became painfully aware of the heat of his mother’s body pressing against his side.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
Angela patted his cheek and reached for the condom. “You know by now, dear.”
------------
Nathan struggled against the bonds futilely. Even though he’d let himself get strapped down willingly, even though he’d taken the drugs on his own, he still couldn’t quite believe what was happening. He couldn’t quite believe his own mother was on top of him, black skirt hiked to her knees, spreading her hands across skin that had been rendered red and tender with the flogger she’d used on him.
Flinching away from the pain, he felt the first touch of moist heat against his unwantedly stiff penis, almost unreal through the combination of drugs and the condom, but still unquestionably there. Angela’s fingers tightened against Nathan’s painful flesh as he tried to wriggle away, and he had to stop moving. The heat enveloped him further, and Angela’s face showed her bliss as she sank down on her son’s cock.
“My sweet boy,” she whispered. “My sweet boy…”
Nathan tried to prevent his gorge from rising as she encouraged him to thrust into her, guiding his hips with sharp taps of a small crop.
------------
Angela’s hands kneaded into the muscles of his arms, setting the pace he dared not disobey. After so many times it was practically second nature, to just mechanically move his hips to his mother’s whims, only releasing when she made him come. She would press inside him with that thin little plastic wand, hitting the precise spot to trigger his orgasm, whether he wanted it or not.
That’s how it had been for years, but tonight Nathan found his rhythm faltering, his hips churning and driving faster and harder than normal, an urgency for release thrumming through him that he hadn’t felt with Angela before. He’d only felt it when it was his choice. Not with her, not with the woman he loved and loathed in equal measure. Angela had given him strength, she had been telling the truth about that, but she’d never given him pleasure, not like this.
“So strong,” Angela gasped, leaning forward to whisper in Nathan’s ear. He couldn’t get his rebellious hips to still, and the infernal cock ring was stopping his release. The torment was becoming as unbearable as the cloud of his mother’s perfume filling his nostrils. Nothing was distracting him from the heated pleasure boiling in his balls, not the scrape of Angela’s nails, or the smoothness of the sheets beneath him, or his mother’s poisonous praise.
“So strong, able to withstand anything,” Angela repeated. “Oh! You tried so hard to be unmoving. Sweet boy, you did so well. You made me proud, so proud. I wanted to give you a reward-.” She stopped and tightened herself against Nathan, groaning as her own orgasm drew closer. “The gift of feeling. Of control. You already know how to armor yourself, son. Now learn to use your weapons.”
Angela’s head rolled back as she dropped her hand down to touch the snap on the cock ring.
“Look at me,” she commanded, and Nathan’s snapped his head up, hips thrusting frantically, sweat pouring down his face. Angela smiled sweetly at him, and tapped his lips with her finger. “I gave you a sugar pill, my darling.”
She pulled the cock ring loose and tensed herself as Nathan drove himself up hard, orgasm rolling over him in an unrelenting tide, not able to stop even for the knowledge that he’d been an entirely willing participant this time around. White lights painted across his eyes as the burning pleasure mixed with the knowledge of the depths of his mother’s perversity.
He spent himself entirely within her, stabbing deep, feeling her ripple around him as she claimed her reward for her teaching. Then it was over, and Angela fell on him, her slight weight a familiar counterpoint to Nathan’s post-orgasmic haze. Her hand idly drifted over to his wrist cuffs, undoing one, and then the other.
Nathan blinked. She had never uncuffed him before when she was so vulnerable, sleepy and exhausted from a bout of prolonged sex and perverse teaching. It would be so easy, so very easy to just put his hands on her neck and squeeze, ending this mockery of a relationship with his mother. He’d never been able to tell Peter how much he envied him, not just for his free spirit, but for having Arthur as a teacher. Arthur’s lessons had undoubtedly been painful, but they’d been direct, simple, easier to see the cause and effect.
Angela’s had been more convoluted. She’d armored him against shame, by taking him to such depths that he couldn’t be easily cowed by some little reporter’s discovery of some minor vice. She’d hardened him against manipulation, by letting him see into her own bag of tricks. And she’d given him weapons, by every act she’d done. The trick here was not a lack of will to use what weapons he had against her. The trick was of ethics, expediency, and necessity. Would he discard a master manipulator like his mother simply because he could? Did he dare deprive himself of her skills at a time he most needed them? Had all those years of being armored against shame count for nothing if he were to kill her to end their games together?
Angela smiled against Nathan’s chest, relaxing in what seemed like total trust. A complicated stab of emotion shot through him, and his hands flexed once, hovering above her neck. Then they came down to hold Angela to him, cradling the serpent against his breast.
--END--
Prompt used:
1. Angela/Nathan: Angela takes advantage of her elder son, and she is not nice about it. Dub-con, discipline, orgasm denial. Setting: a very expensive hotel suite. I want the surroundings to be sensual and lavish, contrasting with what is happening to Nathan.
Author: jaune_chat
Fandoms: Heroes
Characters/Pairings: Nathan/Angela
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 2,598
Spoilers: None specific, pre-series
Warnings: Dub-con, incest, whipping/flogging, toys, forced orgasm, mind-fuck, abuse of OTC medications
Disclaimer: Heroes belongs to Tim Kring, NBC et al
A/N: Thanks to redandglenda and brighteyed_jill for betaing! Written for crashgirl82 for heroes_exchange.
Summary: Angela wants her son to be strong. Nathan has to choose how strong he can be.
The Plaza Hotel. The finest hotel in the city for their family, discrete and well-appointed, with a staff that knew when and how to be absent as well as when it was safe to be deaf and blind. They hadn’t actually acknowledged Nathan’s presence so much as have the manager engage him in some meaningless pleasantries while slipping a room card into his hand. It was a well-worn drill by now.
--------------
He’d been nervous, but hiding it with all the skill he could muster. The last thing he needed anyone to know was that he was meeting his mother in a hotel suite under an assumed name.
--------------
Angela had reserved their usual room, the Presidential Suite. Over the years the décor had changed slightly, always being up-to-the minute in mode and style, but it was always lavish. Brocade curtains, imported silk rugs, antique vases and clocks, paintings worthy of a museum, bathroom done in marble and chrome, the bed fitted with the finest sheets and a decadent velvet duvet. The leather straps on the bedposts were Angela’s addition to the room.
--------------
It was well after midnight, so late no one would think it odd Nathan wasn’t out with his friends or networking at a party.
“Ma? What’s this all about?”
Angela had only smiled and waved for Nathan to sit at the beautifully inlaid table. They picked up their glasses of champagne and sipped while she assessed him over the rim of the flute. Something about her gaze had sent a tendril of cold to tighten Nathan’s stomach. Angela was in her elegant best, a tailored dress of black velvet, her hair done up, a matching set of pearls at her ears, neck, and throat.
“You’re almost ready to graduate college,” she said, her tone a little nostalgic. “I can’t believe how fast the time has gone. I kept putting this off, thinking you wouldn’t need it, but since you’re going to be working with Arthur…” She trailed off thoughtfully, putting up a finger to forestall any comments from him. “You’re a strong man Nathan, but you aren’t strong enough. Neither is Peter-.”
Nathan broke in with an angry protest, but Angela silenced him with a sharp gesture.
“Not strong enough for this world, either of you. Not tough enough to withstand the worst the world can throw at you. The betrayal, the lies, the broken promises; those things can kill you inside. If you can learn to live through the worst that can happen, then nothing can stop you from fulfilling your destiny, Nathan,” Angela said, reaching over to put her hand over her son’s.
Nathan looked back at her, stomach sinking, heart turning to ice. He jerked his hand away and shoved away from the table, glaring at her with disgust. Angela seemed entirely unmoved by the heat of his emotion, only crossed her legs and smiled slightly.
“That’s sick,” Nathan spat, getting to his feet and turning to leave.
“You have a choice, Nathan,” Angela said, before he could take a single step. “You know you need this. You know how hard it is to please your father. I know how much you respect him. He loves you. He wouldn’t want to take care of this himself, but he will, if he has to. Otherwise, he’ll do what we planned originally.”
“Peter,” Nathan whispered, turning back reluctantly.
--------------
Nathan stood in the precise middle of the room, drinking the last of the champagne on the table before putting the flute back in its normal place. Angela only moved once he’d finished, pointing to the bed. Her cheeks were already flushed, and Nathan knew better by now than to hesitate in getting his clothes off. She had said she had something new for him tonight.
--------------
“Toughness is needed, Nathan. Mental toughness to survive what’s coming. I know what you’re going to need,” Angela said. Nathan might have almost believed her pose of a mother administering a punishment to teach a life lesson, if Angela’s eyes hadn’t been glittering with something almost unholy. “Peter needs those lessons too. But you’re the oldest, you can choose your teacher.”
Nathan took a few slow steps forward, anger rising in him, fists clenched at his side. How dare his mother come here and bring him this perverted proposition? How dare she imply that he choose who Peter was to be betrayed by? How dare she?
“This is the first time you’ve been betrayed,” Angela said evenly. “You’re ready to kill me. What would happen the first time this happened in the courtroom? Or in the political arena? You’ll be disgraced at best, killed at worst. You know the kind of life you’re trying to lead, Nathan. You’ll always have enemies, and some of them will be very close to you.”
She closed the gap between them and laid a hand on his chest, the heat of it searing him even though the layers of cloth. It was a possessive gesture, a familiar one, and Nathan’s gorge rose as the truth of Angela’s words penetrated his roiling emotions.
“It will happen, sooner or later, to both of you. I want you both to be ready. Now choose, Nathan,” Angela said, her voice hardening.
Almost any other reasonable person would have shoved away from his perverted mother, gathered his vulnerable younger brother, and left for parts undisclosed, after spilling everything to the police. Nathan suddenly realized that their family was anything but reasonable. The Petrellis were readying themselves for change, big, world-shaking change, and Nathan knew he was going to be the catalyst for it. His family had been honing him into a weapon of change his entire life, readying him for greatness.
Nathan was being primed to be a mover and shaker, and that kind of power didn’t come without a price. How many times had he watched his father or his father’s friend Daniel Linderman easily pick apart someone who didn’t have the strength to stand up to them? Nathan knew he needed to be strong, at almost any price.
“Peter-,” he started. “Don’t-.”
“Nathan, you know it can’t work that way. Arthur and I are a team. He’s going to have his satisfaction one way or the other. And so am I.”
There was no compromise in her voice, no softness in her eyes. Angela refused to yield even the tiniest bit. “You need this, Nathan,” she said, as if it were a foregone conclusion.
------------
He laid back, putting his arms up and letting Angela tighten the wide cuffs around his wrists, then his ankles. They fit into place easily, finding their places that they’d been molded to with years of use. Stretched out and helpless, Nathan watched as Angela uncoiled the thin whip from her large purse. A singletail this time. That meant more pain. A light sheen of sweat broke out over Nathan’s skin as Angela let it sing through the air once to hear its whining tone.
------------
Nathan nodded, flushing alternately red with shame and white with anger. He nodded yes to Angela, and silently begged Peter’s forgiveness. One part of him called him a coward for submitting to his mother, leaving Peter to Arthur’s heavier hand. But Arthur already hated Peter, hated him for his softness, his compassion, his refusal to abide by his father’s rules. Nothing Arthur did to Peter would be a shock. There would be no deep wound of betrayal there, just a logical conclusion to a lifetime of scorn.
Not if it were Angela. If Angela did it, Peter would be devastated. He wouldn’t be able to understand the mother he loved administering such brutal lessons. He wouldn’t realize how subtle she could be, like a serpent, until it was too late. The poison would do its work and stop his heart before he realized he’d been bitten.
Angela read the capitulation in his eyes and smiled slightly. She moved back to the table and poured another glass of champagne. Rummaging around in her handbag, she fished out a single blue pill and put it next to the flute, and looked pointedly at Nathan.
“Drink up, dear.”
Nathan strode over to the table and swallowed the Viagra grimly, gulping back the champagne with no finesse at all. Angela only smiled, and gestured to the bed, pulling out straps of black leather from the depths of her handbag.
------------
Nathan hissed slightly as Angela laid the last stroke of the whip along his thighs. She was an artist with her chosen tools, and his skin was completely intact, other than being covered with a latticework of welts that left his skin feeling like it was on fire, subsiding into a comforting numbness. Or it was, right up until Angela ran her fingernail up his thigh, awaking the over-stimulated nerves and making him gasp and arch against the bed.
He could feel himself rising to unwanted stiffness; the damned drugs had finally taken effect. He wondered if Angela knew why he went through women so quickly, and figured she’d probably guessed. Any man would want to prove to himself that he didn’t need drugs, that he could be desire someone and perform when not under pressure…
Angela’s hand moved to Nathan’s erection, stroking a few times firmly, smiling as Nathan closed his eyes against the unexpected intensity of the sensation. Usually the Viagra dulled sensations a little, making it less immediate, less real, easier to pretend he was simply having some kind of nightmare.
It’s just the drugs, the whipping, she primed me to feel it. She planned it this way. She planned everything, Nathan told himself fiercely.
“Good boy,” Angela said approvingly, and plucked something from the nightstand. Nathan started as she tightened and snapped a leather cock ring around him, groaning at the way it made him feel. Somehow everything became more intense, more immediate, and Nathan became painfully aware of the heat of his mother’s body pressing against his side.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
Angela patted his cheek and reached for the condom. “You know by now, dear.”
------------
Nathan struggled against the bonds futilely. Even though he’d let himself get strapped down willingly, even though he’d taken the drugs on his own, he still couldn’t quite believe what was happening. He couldn’t quite believe his own mother was on top of him, black skirt hiked to her knees, spreading her hands across skin that had been rendered red and tender with the flogger she’d used on him.
Flinching away from the pain, he felt the first touch of moist heat against his unwantedly stiff penis, almost unreal through the combination of drugs and the condom, but still unquestionably there. Angela’s fingers tightened against Nathan’s painful flesh as he tried to wriggle away, and he had to stop moving. The heat enveloped him further, and Angela’s face showed her bliss as she sank down on her son’s cock.
“My sweet boy,” she whispered. “My sweet boy…”
Nathan tried to prevent his gorge from rising as she encouraged him to thrust into her, guiding his hips with sharp taps of a small crop.
------------
Angela’s hands kneaded into the muscles of his arms, setting the pace he dared not disobey. After so many times it was practically second nature, to just mechanically move his hips to his mother’s whims, only releasing when she made him come. She would press inside him with that thin little plastic wand, hitting the precise spot to trigger his orgasm, whether he wanted it or not.
That’s how it had been for years, but tonight Nathan found his rhythm faltering, his hips churning and driving faster and harder than normal, an urgency for release thrumming through him that he hadn’t felt with Angela before. He’d only felt it when it was his choice. Not with her, not with the woman he loved and loathed in equal measure. Angela had given him strength, she had been telling the truth about that, but she’d never given him pleasure, not like this.
“So strong,” Angela gasped, leaning forward to whisper in Nathan’s ear. He couldn’t get his rebellious hips to still, and the infernal cock ring was stopping his release. The torment was becoming as unbearable as the cloud of his mother’s perfume filling his nostrils. Nothing was distracting him from the heated pleasure boiling in his balls, not the scrape of Angela’s nails, or the smoothness of the sheets beneath him, or his mother’s poisonous praise.
“So strong, able to withstand anything,” Angela repeated. “Oh! You tried so hard to be unmoving. Sweet boy, you did so well. You made me proud, so proud. I wanted to give you a reward-.” She stopped and tightened herself against Nathan, groaning as her own orgasm drew closer. “The gift of feeling. Of control. You already know how to armor yourself, son. Now learn to use your weapons.”
Angela’s head rolled back as she dropped her hand down to touch the snap on the cock ring.
“Look at me,” she commanded, and Nathan’s snapped his head up, hips thrusting frantically, sweat pouring down his face. Angela smiled sweetly at him, and tapped his lips with her finger. “I gave you a sugar pill, my darling.”
She pulled the cock ring loose and tensed herself as Nathan drove himself up hard, orgasm rolling over him in an unrelenting tide, not able to stop even for the knowledge that he’d been an entirely willing participant this time around. White lights painted across his eyes as the burning pleasure mixed with the knowledge of the depths of his mother’s perversity.
He spent himself entirely within her, stabbing deep, feeling her ripple around him as she claimed her reward for her teaching. Then it was over, and Angela fell on him, her slight weight a familiar counterpoint to Nathan’s post-orgasmic haze. Her hand idly drifted over to his wrist cuffs, undoing one, and then the other.
Nathan blinked. She had never uncuffed him before when she was so vulnerable, sleepy and exhausted from a bout of prolonged sex and perverse teaching. It would be so easy, so very easy to just put his hands on her neck and squeeze, ending this mockery of a relationship with his mother. He’d never been able to tell Peter how much he envied him, not just for his free spirit, but for having Arthur as a teacher. Arthur’s lessons had undoubtedly been painful, but they’d been direct, simple, easier to see the cause and effect.
Angela’s had been more convoluted. She’d armored him against shame, by taking him to such depths that he couldn’t be easily cowed by some little reporter’s discovery of some minor vice. She’d hardened him against manipulation, by letting him see into her own bag of tricks. And she’d given him weapons, by every act she’d done. The trick here was not a lack of will to use what weapons he had against her. The trick was of ethics, expediency, and necessity. Would he discard a master manipulator like his mother simply because he could? Did he dare deprive himself of her skills at a time he most needed them? Had all those years of being armored against shame count for nothing if he were to kill her to end their games together?
Angela smiled against Nathan’s chest, relaxing in what seemed like total trust. A complicated stab of emotion shot through him, and his hands flexed once, hovering above her neck. Then they came down to hold Angela to him, cradling the serpent against his breast.
--END--
Prompt used:
1. Angela/Nathan: Angela takes advantage of her elder son, and she is not nice about it. Dub-con, discipline, orgasm denial. Setting: a very expensive hotel suite. I want the surroundings to be sensual and lavish, contrasting with what is happening to Nathan.