Fic for frimfram; Vendredi Noir Angel/Lindsey
I didn't think I'd get online again but here I am...
Remember when I said I’d be bored out of my brains and if anyone wanted any fic from me they could challenge me to something and I’d have a go. No? Well, I’ve been beavering away at the requests and I know I’ve been spamming you with fic, but here is the first of those challenges written for frimfram who’s been asking for this so nicely and politely for quite a while ;)
And I’m rather nervous about this one ... it’s slash porn! But which also leans heavily on the plot side of porn, too. But on the other hand, porn! That’s new to me and fic - kinda.
Title: Vendredi Noir
Author: lillianmorgan
Setting: post-Redefinition AtS 2 - you can choose whether it goes AU from there.
Rating: NC-17, m/m sex, kinda bondage, naughty words, that sort of thing ::watches you all flee screaming::
Pairing: Angel/Lindsey
Disclaimer: I don’t own Joss’ and ME’s toys.
A/N: Thanks, hugs and smooches to yourlibrarian who somehow amidst everything else found time to beta this too. Very, very much appreciated!
Written for frimfram who asked for this:
Hee! OK, I challenge you to write Angel/Lindsey. You can't back out of it now. If possible, I want it to be hot, snarky Angel/Lindsey, and I want them to get interrupted ;) How's that grab you?
Frimmy, for you anything but for some reason this was hard with a capital H. And blink and you may miss the, er, ‘interruption’.
Vendredi Noir
Angel woke with a start. He was suspended mid-air and his arms hurt from the bulk of his body pulling, with the aid and dexterity of gravity, toward the floor. His mind was a haze of drugs dozing him and miscalculations haunting him; the memory of how he’d ended up in this predicament tantalizingly close, yet fickle and untameable - just like a gypsy girl.
He grunted, then, trying to draw the strength from somewhere deep within his body to rip the chains from the ceiling. But shaking the shackles that contained his wrists caused nothing but more skin to chafe off and pain to concentrate at his hands.
On the third attempt, he heard the door behind him open with a jerk and that familiar scent entered his senses before he saw its vessel.
“How’s it hangin’?” he asked, behind Angel and remaining in the doorway.
Angel calmed. “What do you want Lindsey?”
Lindsey walked around to face Angel. “You, Angel.”
“Well,” Angel sighed, and doing his best to be unimpressed, “that’s obvious. What do you really want?”
Lindsey broadened the moment to stare down Angel. “Hey, listen, I’m the guy in the bargainin’ position, Angel. In my top pocket is the rusted old key to those shackles. One nice word and you’ll be down from there.”
“Which word do you want? Power? Greed? Lust?” Angel paused to saviour the sound of Lindsey’s increasing heartbeat. “Darla?”
“I was thinking more of ‘please’,” Lindsey elucidated, his voice slipping into that easy huskiness. He began pacing around Angel’s dangling frame, turning to glance at him on odd occasions.
Blocking out the pain, Angel returned the glances. “You’ve got to realise now, Lindsey, that I’m not going to beg.”
Lindsey spun on his heel and walked toward the door. His footsteps slowed as if he were about to speak, but he merely continued out the door.
With the distraction of his presence gone, Angel felt his body lulling back into a somnolent state, ‘til he was hanging unconscious.
~*~*~*~*
Lindsey peered at the papers before him, tapping his pen in frustration, the complexity held within the files his secretary had pulled on the Master strained on his brain. Preparation and knowledge, though, were two things he intimately knew the benefit of.
When his eyes caught on the name Angelus, his mind played traitor and he stared off into the distance, contemplating the Los Angeles skyline and what exactly to do with him. It had all started so easily; he had hired some mercenary demons who he never really expected to succeed in his request. The vampire must have been ‘off’ when they’d cornered him or perhaps there was the old problem of sunlight. The details of the capture were not important, because now he had Angel chained up in a small apartment in Thousand Oaks - so far off the Wolfram and Hart protocol, should the Senior Partners ever find out, as to put the fear into him of having his other hand ripped off. And therein lay the problem. What exactly to do with him now.
The plan had really been to get some sort of leverage on Darla but her refusal of Angel, when Lindsey had pattered around the subject - mainly because Lilah was in the room, and also because it never paid to reveal all your cards at once - had left him confused. Surely, even if she had reacclimatized the heartless bitch within, she still wanted Angel. That was something you never lost. The experience of disappointment had enlightened him.
He had all the opportunity, not to mention the motive, to take Angel out of the picture. It would be perfect - no hero to get in the way, bumbling around his plans for Wolfram and Hart. But curiously Angel’s own masterstroke of death a la vampiresses had left a chasm in the law firm; and that meant a radar on him. He would have to tread so carefully not to reveal anything - to Lilah, to the colleagues that whispered around photocopiers, to the walls that communicated with the Senior Partners.
So, no, he couldn’t stake Angel. But he didn’t want to release him - now that he could do whatever he liked, opportunity lay open, tantalizing. But for once in his life he didn’t know what he wanted. Couldn’t spark the desire within that had given him the balls to be Lindsey MacDonald.
It was probably Darla’s fault. And maybe Lilah’s. And somewhere too was the other mad one. Surrounded by duplicitous, scheming women. Perhaps he really did need to spend some time with a man.
~*~*~*~*
The next time Angel woke, he was laid out on a spongy bed, wrists and ankles chaining him, splaying him like a star. The familiar essence that smelled of consistency permeated the room.
He lifted his head and saw him sitting in a wooden chair a few feet away, swilling a glass of amber liquid in his hand. His tie was skewed, the sleeves of his crumpled pale blue shirt rolled up, his hair messed from too many finger-combs. He looked unkempt, both in dress and demeanour, and Angel smiled.
“Tough day at the office, Lindsey?”
Lindsey murmured in acquiescence.
“Thanks for the bed,” Angel continued amicably, “even with vampire constitution, it does get a bit sore hanging like that.”
“Really?” Lindsey asked, just as shocked by Angel’s comment as much as his tone.
“Yeah. I have had some experience, Lindsey, that’s the key. You did a particularly good job of trying to break me. But…in the end, will you ever succeed?”
“Quit tryin’ to provoke me, Angel. Two can tango at the Patty Hearst game.” Lindsey stood, pushing his chair back with a loud scraping noise. He began pacing down the length of the apartment, moving in and out of Angel’s restricted view.
Angel considered him for a moment, then rattled his chains - trying both to annoy Lindsey and give him something to beat the boredom.
Finally, “You’re awfully morose, Lindsey. Drinking on the job. That place must get you down. Tired of all those lawyers trying to lick your sweet ass?”
Lindsey swayed toward him, whiskey breath roiling over and around him like a heavy fog. “As if…” he whispered. The he stepped back, reigning in his reactions, and resumed his pacing. “Wolfram and Hart doesn’t work like that. Haven’t you done enough late night lurking to figure that out?”
Angel snorted. “Need a man on the inside, and did have one … only, he kinda fell through.”
“Couldn’t live up to what you wanted?” Lindsey wheedled.
“There’s a fine line between what I want and what I need.”
A too-long pause and then Lindsey slipped back into view. “And what is it you need?”
Angel levelled a fierce look at him, and answered with his eyes; his eyebrows posed the answer to the question too.
Lindsey stumbled back and regained his equilibrium via his chair.
“You’re dancing around something Lindsey and what is it … oh!” Angel narrowed his eyes, before continuing in a disaffected voice, “You really have no idea what to do with me, do you?”
Lindsey’s hasty, “Oh yes, I do. I got plans for you,” told Angel all he needed to know.
“Well,” mused Angel, “can’t make good on any of those plans with my hands tied like this. I think you’ll find any plan may come to a much more satisfactory conclusion if I can touch you back.”
Lindsey shuddered, imperceptibly, and drained the last of his drink. Looking around for more he added, the husky lilt resuming in his voice, “Not gonna work on me Angel.”
“Really?” Angel retaliated, quickly and knowingly. “If I could pin down one of your fantasies, I know I’d find you in this position, boy. You like to taste the power - run it over your lips and fingertips, feel it coming at you from behind. You want to be mastered by it Lindsey. You don’t want to be its master.”
“Think you know so much? That you’re such hot shit?”
“Lindsey,” Angel tutted, but dropping his voice to a low, mellow cadence, “tell me what you need.”
If Lindsey could pause for a second from within the maelstrom of provocation and consider the implausibility of the situation - Angel bound to a bed, yet still calling the shots - he would be lost. But that was not part of Angel’s plan, and, with luck, only he knew that.
“You don’t want me dead.” Angel’s voice silky and smooth as water on skin. “You want me alive. You want to feel what it’s like when I fuck you into next Wednesday. What it’s like when I grab you and pull you and teach you the pain-pleasure only a vampire has become the willing student of. And you need…”
Lindsey’s eyes glazed and refocused through Angel’s hypnotic treatise on his desires until he stood again, reached vehemently into his trouser pocked and withdrew a tiny key. Angel locked eyes with him as he paced over to the bed, took one of Angel’s wrists in his flaming hot hand, and jerked it out of the opening lock.
As the other sprang free, Angel smiled indulgently then hefted a fist, fast and furious, into Lindsey’s chin - the impact vaulting his body into the opposite wall, where it crumpled to the floor. He reached down and removed the binds from his own ankles.
“Candy,” Angel remarked, striding to the door and flinging it open with ruthless efficacy, “meet baby.”
~*~*~*~*
In the days that followed, Lindsey actually experienced relief at his screwed up rendez-vous with Angel. It had certainly solved the problem of what to do and neither the Senior Partners, nor even the Powers that Be, seemed perturbed at all by their mutual diversions.
Lindsey had instead found a perverse pleasure in routine; following a daily schedule of kick the Lilah (or, if he were being brutally honest, fend off the kicks) kept him from sliding into the insanity of why exactly he let Angel manipulate him into his release. Why he’d rather be word-fucked than keep him chained up.
Flicking off his desk lamp, shuffling his papers into his briefcase and exiting his office, he heaved a sigh from his body. Even that felt regimented. Maybe life in the upper echelons might prove duller without the distractions of Darla now that he had to worry about the plans’ end, rather than the piecemeal. The ride in the elevator took an inordinate amount of time and when he reached the basement, he had his keys prepared and his silver Mercedes convertible was beeping to be opened.
The attack, when it came, was furious and anything but the stealthy prelude he must have engaged in so that Lindsey had never even spotted him. Lindsey found himself heaved onto the hood of his car, briefcase and keys scratching and flying from his hand in the impact, and cool hands ripping at his trousers.
“I normally follow through on a promise,” elucidated that voice, that steel-trap cool that only Angel possessed.
Lindsey helpless - whether by design or lust - tried to squirm ineffectively under Angel’s broad frame, and the arm that drove him further into the hood, caused an imprint he might have trouble explaining.
“Gotta be quick,” Angel snarled, “camera’s only on a few minutes’ loop.” And then Lindsey felt his body wrenched at the waist, and his lips swallowed into a vice-like kiss.
Released at the lips, Lindsey was aware of his trousers pooling at his ankles, then winced as they were ripped asunder as Angel’s knee widened his submission. A spitting noise followed by a grunt, told Lindsey that Angel was preparing and then nothing and then
HEAT
electrifying pulsing cleaving burning
in and around his asshole as Angel descended, his coolness so enveloping the heat Lindsey contributed.
Lindsey was pressed deeper into the car as Angel rocked and rocked further, and then a cool hand grabbed his own cock and began ruthlessly stripping him to within the lofty peaks of orgasm.
Angel delved deeper and Lindsey wondered, in the way one does when the mind feels disengaged from the body, whether he’d be split in two like his pants. But then all thought diverted as he felt his balls tighten and explode the cum from his body. Seconds, maybe years later, Angel’s grunts transformed from need to completion and he was pulling out - his cold fluids overflowing from Lindsey’s ass on his retreat.
Lindsey staggered once Angel’s body was lifted from him, and it was all he could do not to wilt to the cement floor.
When his legs recovered some semblance of non-jelly consistency, he turned to find that Angel had once again fucked him over and fled.
Pulling the remnants of his pants up, hastily reclaiming his things and getting into his car all before one of the Wolfram and Hart surveillance cameras caught his misdemeanour, he started the engine, for all intents and purposes supremely unnerved by the encounter. And then, as he forced the car into gear, his face morphed into a grin, and the tip of his tongue ran languorously over his lips, just for a quick taste before leaving the scene.
Finis
Remember when I said I’d be bored out of my brains and if anyone wanted any fic from me they could challenge me to something and I’d have a go. No? Well, I’ve been beavering away at the requests and I know I’ve been spamming you with fic, but here is the first of those challenges written for frimfram who’s been asking for this so nicely and politely for quite a while ;)
And I’m rather nervous about this one ... it’s slash porn! But which also leans heavily on the plot side of porn, too. But on the other hand, porn! That’s new to me and fic - kinda.
Title: Vendredi Noir
Author: lillianmorgan
Setting: post-Redefinition AtS 2 - you can choose whether it goes AU from there.
Rating: NC-17, m/m sex, kinda bondage, naughty words, that sort of thing ::watches you all flee screaming::
Pairing: Angel/Lindsey
Disclaimer: I don’t own Joss’ and ME’s toys.
A/N: Thanks, hugs and smooches to yourlibrarian who somehow amidst everything else found time to beta this too. Very, very much appreciated!
Written for frimfram who asked for this:
Hee! OK, I challenge you to write Angel/Lindsey. You can't back out of it now. If possible, I want it to be hot, snarky Angel/Lindsey, and I want them to get interrupted ;) How's that grab you?
Frimmy, for you anything but for some reason this was hard with a capital H. And blink and you may miss the, er, ‘interruption’.
Vendredi Noir
Angel woke with a start. He was suspended mid-air and his arms hurt from the bulk of his body pulling, with the aid and dexterity of gravity, toward the floor. His mind was a haze of drugs dozing him and miscalculations haunting him; the memory of how he’d ended up in this predicament tantalizingly close, yet fickle and untameable - just like a gypsy girl.
He grunted, then, trying to draw the strength from somewhere deep within his body to rip the chains from the ceiling. But shaking the shackles that contained his wrists caused nothing but more skin to chafe off and pain to concentrate at his hands.
On the third attempt, he heard the door behind him open with a jerk and that familiar scent entered his senses before he saw its vessel.
“How’s it hangin’?” he asked, behind Angel and remaining in the doorway.
Angel calmed. “What do you want Lindsey?”
Lindsey walked around to face Angel. “You, Angel.”
“Well,” Angel sighed, and doing his best to be unimpressed, “that’s obvious. What do you really want?”
Lindsey broadened the moment to stare down Angel. “Hey, listen, I’m the guy in the bargainin’ position, Angel. In my top pocket is the rusted old key to those shackles. One nice word and you’ll be down from there.”
“Which word do you want? Power? Greed? Lust?” Angel paused to saviour the sound of Lindsey’s increasing heartbeat. “Darla?”
“I was thinking more of ‘please’,” Lindsey elucidated, his voice slipping into that easy huskiness. He began pacing around Angel’s dangling frame, turning to glance at him on odd occasions.
Blocking out the pain, Angel returned the glances. “You’ve got to realise now, Lindsey, that I’m not going to beg.”
Lindsey spun on his heel and walked toward the door. His footsteps slowed as if he were about to speak, but he merely continued out the door.
With the distraction of his presence gone, Angel felt his body lulling back into a somnolent state, ‘til he was hanging unconscious.
~*~*~*~*
Lindsey peered at the papers before him, tapping his pen in frustration, the complexity held within the files his secretary had pulled on the Master strained on his brain. Preparation and knowledge, though, were two things he intimately knew the benefit of.
When his eyes caught on the name Angelus, his mind played traitor and he stared off into the distance, contemplating the Los Angeles skyline and what exactly to do with him. It had all started so easily; he had hired some mercenary demons who he never really expected to succeed in his request. The vampire must have been ‘off’ when they’d cornered him or perhaps there was the old problem of sunlight. The details of the capture were not important, because now he had Angel chained up in a small apartment in Thousand Oaks - so far off the Wolfram and Hart protocol, should the Senior Partners ever find out, as to put the fear into him of having his other hand ripped off. And therein lay the problem. What exactly to do with him now.
The plan had really been to get some sort of leverage on Darla but her refusal of Angel, when Lindsey had pattered around the subject - mainly because Lilah was in the room, and also because it never paid to reveal all your cards at once - had left him confused. Surely, even if she had reacclimatized the heartless bitch within, she still wanted Angel. That was something you never lost. The experience of disappointment had enlightened him.
He had all the opportunity, not to mention the motive, to take Angel out of the picture. It would be perfect - no hero to get in the way, bumbling around his plans for Wolfram and Hart. But curiously Angel’s own masterstroke of death a la vampiresses had left a chasm in the law firm; and that meant a radar on him. He would have to tread so carefully not to reveal anything - to Lilah, to the colleagues that whispered around photocopiers, to the walls that communicated with the Senior Partners.
So, no, he couldn’t stake Angel. But he didn’t want to release him - now that he could do whatever he liked, opportunity lay open, tantalizing. But for once in his life he didn’t know what he wanted. Couldn’t spark the desire within that had given him the balls to be Lindsey MacDonald.
It was probably Darla’s fault. And maybe Lilah’s. And somewhere too was the other mad one. Surrounded by duplicitous, scheming women. Perhaps he really did need to spend some time with a man.
~*~*~*~*
The next time Angel woke, he was laid out on a spongy bed, wrists and ankles chaining him, splaying him like a star. The familiar essence that smelled of consistency permeated the room.
He lifted his head and saw him sitting in a wooden chair a few feet away, swilling a glass of amber liquid in his hand. His tie was skewed, the sleeves of his crumpled pale blue shirt rolled up, his hair messed from too many finger-combs. He looked unkempt, both in dress and demeanour, and Angel smiled.
“Tough day at the office, Lindsey?”
Lindsey murmured in acquiescence.
“Thanks for the bed,” Angel continued amicably, “even with vampire constitution, it does get a bit sore hanging like that.”
“Really?” Lindsey asked, just as shocked by Angel’s comment as much as his tone.
“Yeah. I have had some experience, Lindsey, that’s the key. You did a particularly good job of trying to break me. But…in the end, will you ever succeed?”
“Quit tryin’ to provoke me, Angel. Two can tango at the Patty Hearst game.” Lindsey stood, pushing his chair back with a loud scraping noise. He began pacing down the length of the apartment, moving in and out of Angel’s restricted view.
Angel considered him for a moment, then rattled his chains - trying both to annoy Lindsey and give him something to beat the boredom.
Finally, “You’re awfully morose, Lindsey. Drinking on the job. That place must get you down. Tired of all those lawyers trying to lick your sweet ass?”
Lindsey swayed toward him, whiskey breath roiling over and around him like a heavy fog. “As if…” he whispered. The he stepped back, reigning in his reactions, and resumed his pacing. “Wolfram and Hart doesn’t work like that. Haven’t you done enough late night lurking to figure that out?”
Angel snorted. “Need a man on the inside, and did have one … only, he kinda fell through.”
“Couldn’t live up to what you wanted?” Lindsey wheedled.
“There’s a fine line between what I want and what I need.”
A too-long pause and then Lindsey slipped back into view. “And what is it you need?”
Angel levelled a fierce look at him, and answered with his eyes; his eyebrows posed the answer to the question too.
Lindsey stumbled back and regained his equilibrium via his chair.
“You’re dancing around something Lindsey and what is it … oh!” Angel narrowed his eyes, before continuing in a disaffected voice, “You really have no idea what to do with me, do you?”
Lindsey’s hasty, “Oh yes, I do. I got plans for you,” told Angel all he needed to know.
“Well,” mused Angel, “can’t make good on any of those plans with my hands tied like this. I think you’ll find any plan may come to a much more satisfactory conclusion if I can touch you back.”
Lindsey shuddered, imperceptibly, and drained the last of his drink. Looking around for more he added, the husky lilt resuming in his voice, “Not gonna work on me Angel.”
“Really?” Angel retaliated, quickly and knowingly. “If I could pin down one of your fantasies, I know I’d find you in this position, boy. You like to taste the power - run it over your lips and fingertips, feel it coming at you from behind. You want to be mastered by it Lindsey. You don’t want to be its master.”
“Think you know so much? That you’re such hot shit?”
“Lindsey,” Angel tutted, but dropping his voice to a low, mellow cadence, “tell me what you need.”
If Lindsey could pause for a second from within the maelstrom of provocation and consider the implausibility of the situation - Angel bound to a bed, yet still calling the shots - he would be lost. But that was not part of Angel’s plan, and, with luck, only he knew that.
“You don’t want me dead.” Angel’s voice silky and smooth as water on skin. “You want me alive. You want to feel what it’s like when I fuck you into next Wednesday. What it’s like when I grab you and pull you and teach you the pain-pleasure only a vampire has become the willing student of. And you need…”
Lindsey’s eyes glazed and refocused through Angel’s hypnotic treatise on his desires until he stood again, reached vehemently into his trouser pocked and withdrew a tiny key. Angel locked eyes with him as he paced over to the bed, took one of Angel’s wrists in his flaming hot hand, and jerked it out of the opening lock.
As the other sprang free, Angel smiled indulgently then hefted a fist, fast and furious, into Lindsey’s chin - the impact vaulting his body into the opposite wall, where it crumpled to the floor. He reached down and removed the binds from his own ankles.
“Candy,” Angel remarked, striding to the door and flinging it open with ruthless efficacy, “meet baby.”
~*~*~*~*
In the days that followed, Lindsey actually experienced relief at his screwed up rendez-vous with Angel. It had certainly solved the problem of what to do and neither the Senior Partners, nor even the Powers that Be, seemed perturbed at all by their mutual diversions.
Lindsey had instead found a perverse pleasure in routine; following a daily schedule of kick the Lilah (or, if he were being brutally honest, fend off the kicks) kept him from sliding into the insanity of why exactly he let Angel manipulate him into his release. Why he’d rather be word-fucked than keep him chained up.
Flicking off his desk lamp, shuffling his papers into his briefcase and exiting his office, he heaved a sigh from his body. Even that felt regimented. Maybe life in the upper echelons might prove duller without the distractions of Darla now that he had to worry about the plans’ end, rather than the piecemeal. The ride in the elevator took an inordinate amount of time and when he reached the basement, he had his keys prepared and his silver Mercedes convertible was beeping to be opened.
The attack, when it came, was furious and anything but the stealthy prelude he must have engaged in so that Lindsey had never even spotted him. Lindsey found himself heaved onto the hood of his car, briefcase and keys scratching and flying from his hand in the impact, and cool hands ripping at his trousers.
“I normally follow through on a promise,” elucidated that voice, that steel-trap cool that only Angel possessed.
Lindsey helpless - whether by design or lust - tried to squirm ineffectively under Angel’s broad frame, and the arm that drove him further into the hood, caused an imprint he might have trouble explaining.
“Gotta be quick,” Angel snarled, “camera’s only on a few minutes’ loop.” And then Lindsey felt his body wrenched at the waist, and his lips swallowed into a vice-like kiss.
Released at the lips, Lindsey was aware of his trousers pooling at his ankles, then winced as they were ripped asunder as Angel’s knee widened his submission. A spitting noise followed by a grunt, told Lindsey that Angel was preparing and then nothing and then
HEAT
electrifying pulsing cleaving burning
in and around his asshole as Angel descended, his coolness so enveloping the heat Lindsey contributed.
Lindsey was pressed deeper into the car as Angel rocked and rocked further, and then a cool hand grabbed his own cock and began ruthlessly stripping him to within the lofty peaks of orgasm.
Angel delved deeper and Lindsey wondered, in the way one does when the mind feels disengaged from the body, whether he’d be split in two like his pants. But then all thought diverted as he felt his balls tighten and explode the cum from his body. Seconds, maybe years later, Angel’s grunts transformed from need to completion and he was pulling out - his cold fluids overflowing from Lindsey’s ass on his retreat.
Lindsey staggered once Angel’s body was lifted from him, and it was all he could do not to wilt to the cement floor.
When his legs recovered some semblance of non-jelly consistency, he turned to find that Angel had once again fucked him over and fled.
Pulling the remnants of his pants up, hastily reclaiming his things and getting into his car all before one of the Wolfram and Hart surveillance cameras caught his misdemeanour, he started the engine, for all intents and purposes supremely unnerved by the encounter. And then, as he forced the car into gear, his face morphed into a grin, and the tip of his tongue ran languorously over his lips, just for a quick taste before leaving the scene.
Finis