Toys 21: Nature's Own
Toys: Nature's Own
Pairings: Angel/clan (sort of, you'll see) There's a lot of Lindsey and a lot of Wesley
Rating: ADULT
Summary: Angel now has his two boys, and maybe (just maybe) a few of Spike's lessons are starting to sink into his thick skull. Angel knows he can't keep doing what he's done, so now he has to find a way to make Spike's life rules work for him and his clan.
Warnings: Sexual slavery; Lindsey is not willing, but there's no non-con here; bondage; general dirty-wrong. If you're easily squicked, this isn't the series for you and hasn't been since the beginning.
Angel unbuckled the gag from around Wesley's face, and the man reached up to rub his jaw.
"Sore?" Reaching up, Angel ran his own thumb over Wesley's cheek and jaw. The morning stubble was rough under his fingers, and Wesley smelled of sleep and Angel.
"It feels rather odd," Wesley said, not actually complaining about the gag, and Angel stored that bit of information away for a later time. When Wesley had first come to Angel's bed, he'd been nervous and randomly babbled about the mating habits of various demons until Angel had fed from him so slowly that Wesley had fallen silent, the sound of his gasping the only interruption as Angel had slowly rediscovered human anatomy. Clearly the gag worked just as well to calm that overactive mind.
"I think you have something to say to Lindsey," Angel said with a meaningful look over to Lindsey. He was still wearing his gag, but then his comments had been rather more pointed. In fact, Angel was slightly worried about whether Wesley would be able to apologize for his own rude comments given that Lindsey had called him so many names before Angel had gotten the gag in. But Wesley surprised him.
Straightening up, he faced Lindsey with pink in his cheeks. "I am sincerely sorry for my earlier words. You are part of this clan, and I will admit that I was feeling rather peevish for reasons that had very little to do with you. I should not have taken that out on you."
Angel could almost smell Lindsey's surprise. "Are you worried about the Groosalugg?" Angel asked curiously. When he reached out to catch Wesley around the waist, Wesley yielded.
"And Cordelia," he added. "Do you need blood?" Wesley tilted his neck in invitation, and Angel's cock hardened at the sight of a half-dozen little pinpricks of white scar against his neck.
"I took from you last night. Others will feed me this morning," Angel said firmly. Not only did Wesley need some blood for himself, but Angel was going to end up back in bed if he tried to feed from Wesley. Why had he never noticed that Wesley was so quick to yield, to mold himself to Angel's needs and Angel's body? Angel had the uncomfortable suspicion that Spike might have been right about the fact that Angel had been an idiot for the last few years. Possibly longer.
"Lindsey?" Angel called, holding out his hand. Lindsey was gagged and his hands were still cuffed behind his back, but that did not prevent him from making his thoughts very clear. He had a glare on him that could wither plants. "You may come here using your own feet or you may refuse and force me to come over there. The choice is yours, but do keep in mind two facts," Angel advised him. "I own you and your blood, and I will take what is mine. If you make me come over there, I will need to do something to remind you that you are mine." Angel gave Lindsey a moment to think about that before he raised the hand he was holding out toward Lindsey.
With a final glare and a snort through his nose that was nearly as loud as a horse's, Lindsey finally moved closer. When Wesley tried to move away, Angel tightened his arm around the man even as he pulled Lindsey closer. Both men needed to be held close, even if their reasons were so very different, and Angel had to find a way to make this work or one of them was going to self-destruct. Lindsey refused to tilt his head in offering until Angel quirked an eyebrow at him.
"Other side," Angel said when Lindsey tilted to show the rough and swollen bite mark Angel had left when they had first fought. For some reason, Angel wanted that to scar undisturbed so that the rough mark would always remain to remind Lindsey of that moment when ownership had transferred. Lindsey took several seconds, and then he tilted his head to show the other side of his neck.
Slipping his hand around Lindsey's waist, Angel carefully pulled him close and tasted the warm skin before slowly sinking his fangs in just far enough to find a vein. Angel focused on making Lindsey enjoy the moment-drawing the blood as slowly as he could. At first, Lindsey was stiff in his embrace, and then his body temperature started going up and he wiggled, his breath hot against Angel's chest. Only when Lindsey was clearly feeling needy did Angel pull his fangs out and lick his lips.
Wesley was watching, an expression of concern on his face, but Angel wasn't sure what the man was concerned about. Before he could ask, a knock on the door interrupted them. Angel let go of his boys, amused when Lindsey made a little unhappy whine. The man might be mad as hell that he'd been taken captive, but he was certainly not above enjoying parts of it.
"Yes?" Angel opened the door to find Spike's new mage there. He was an older man, portly and gray-haired with only a few streaks of brown left to show its original color.
"Master Angel," he said respectfully, bowing his head. "Master Spike suggested that I present you with some options for claiming your newest slave."
Angel's eyebrows went up as he accepted the thin notebook from the mage.
"Master Spike also hoped that I could speak with the slave about what spell his previous masters used," he glanced over at the gagged man, "but if you have other uses for his mouth, I can come back later." He gave Angel another bow and then waited. Angel looked over toward Lindsey and Wesley, not sure whether Lindsey was ready to have a civil conversation.
"What does Master Spike hope to learn?" Wesley asked, stepping forward. He was dressed, but his cheeks still had the red marks from wearing the gag over night, and Angel wondered if he would be embarrassed if he knew that. There was so much Angel didn't understand about the people he was claiming as his own.
"I have told him that I am not a dark mage and I have limited knowledge about the sorts of slavery that would claim a soul, even after death, but he seems to think that I have more practical knowledge with the dark arts than anyone else in court. I imagine he is right on that count." The man smiled at Wesley, and Angel took a step back, tacitly inviting the man inside his quarters.
"You aren't a dark mage?" Wesley seemed surprised at that, and the truth was, Angel was as well.
"Ah, no. Master Spike uses a number of blessings on the lair." The mage lifted his arms and gestured at the building around them. "Witch Tara is very talented, and the various white magic fetishes and blessings would make it rather difficult for a dark mage. Apparently Master Spike has had quite the trouble with dark mages." He made a face that almost looked amused. "I do green magic."
"Really?" Wesley's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Good heavens. I had thought that discipline was nearly extinct."
The mage laughed. "So many young users tend toward dark or light magics or even the technomagics, but the nature magics and the chaos magics hold just as much power as the others. Do I take it you are a student of magics?" The older man's smile invited Wesley to share more, and Angel studied this new mage. Should he allow him access to Wesley? If he was supposed to be caring for Wesley, surely that meant he should make sure Wesley was not in any danger. He took a step toward Spike's mage, and Wesley fell silent.
"If you would allow it, Master Angel. I assure you that I am loyal to Master Spike and would do nothing to endanger the members of your court," Spike's mage hurried to add.
Angel expected Wesley to furiously protest that he had a right to speak with whomever he liked, but the man was extraordinarily quiet. "Perhaps Lindsey is in a mood to answer some questions," Angel said instead of giving that permission.
"Of course," the mage offered.
"I'm sorry, I missed your name," Wesley stepped forward and offered his hand without answering the man's question about Wesley's own interest in magic.
"Harry, Harry McMillian."
"Wesley Wyndam-Pryce." They shook hands while Angel unlocked and unbuckled Lindsey's gag. Lindsey was rolling his eyes but at least he managed to remain quiet.
"Remember, you only have permission to speak to me," Angel reminded him.
"How long are you going to keep playing this game, Angel? I know you. This is not your style."
"You do not know me that well," Angel said firmly as he took hold of the man's arm and walked him over to the edge of the bed and forced him to sit. The fact was that Angel hadn't known himself because he was enjoying this perhaps a little too much. "If you have a question for Lindsey, ask it," Angel told Harry.
"Thank you, Master Angel. Now Lindsey, I know that the spell bound your soul, even after death, and the fact that Angel had a prior claim means that it was put in place after you first approached Angel in Los Angeles. However, I know little else. Do you know what the spell was?"
Lindsey had the good sense to look to Angel for permission to speak. Angel nodded and then rewarded that behavior by running his thumb over the red pinpricks from Angel's feeding. Lindsey shivered. "I signed a non-compete agreement after going back to Wolfram and Hart, but I never sold myself into slavery."
Harry snorted.
"Watch yourself, mage," Angel warned, his eyes turning yellow. He would give Wesley some room to adjust, but Spike's mage would pay if he made Lindsey feel uncomfortable.
Harry blushed. "I apologize, Master Angel. No doubt the young one believes that."
"But it's not true?" Angel guessed.
"No, Master. A dark mage can enslave the body, as can a technomage or even a nature mage as myself. In fact, the papers I brought were to offer a number of slavery spells. Master Spike said that you were to choose whichever was of interest to you. However, I cannot enslave a soul, and a dark mage can only enslave a soul that has given itself freely to the evil."
"Like seeing that he's working for a murderous demon and going back in return for a promotion?" Wesley asked.
"Wesley," Angel warned. He oddly felt like he was playing the part of the mother between two squabbling siblings in this family drama.
Wesley blushed. "I hardly have clean hands myself. I chose to follow the watchers long after I realized that they were preying on girls who were too young to care for themselves. Their definition of training rarely included anything as mundane as reading or learning to function in the world, and the potential slayers were often removed from homes as young as five. So, I am not condemning Lindsey; however, it does seem likely that Lindsey sold his soul."
Angel looked down. "Lindsey?" he asked.
"I didn't sell my soul," Lindsey said mulishly. Angel nodded. Clearly he had and he was not yet ready to face reality. Wesley opened his mouth to continue to argue, and Angel tossed the binder Harry had given him toward Wesley as a distraction.
"What are these?" Wesley caught the binder, dropped it, and then grabbed it off the floor. "Oh dear."
"Wesley?" Angel took a step forward so he could see what had alarmed Wesley enough that the blood had largely drained from his face.
"Ah, the leucochloridium worms enslavement spell." Harry sounded pleased. "That is quite a difficult spell, but if a form of slavery exists in nature, I can harness nature's intent and bend it toward human slavery."
"This is reprehensible." Wesley's voice came out as a horrified whisper.
"It is rather drastic," Harry agreed. He looked up at Angel, that same genial smile in place. "The worm enters a snail through eggs left in bird droppings. It then reproduces, takes over the snail's brain and forces the beast into the full sunlight. The worm fills the eye sack with eggs that pulse and make the entire stalk bulge until they appear to be two caterpillars. A bird sees that and either rips the snail from the shell or simply rips off the snail's face, eating both it and the worm eggs. If the snail is particularly unlucky, it survives having its eyestalks ripped off simply to regrow them and repeat the procedure. Were you to choose such a drastic form of slavery, you would have almost complete control over your slave's body. He would do as you wished even if it would be sure to lead to certain death."
Wesley looked over in complete horror, and Angel could only stare in shock at the man who was offering to perform such a horrifying spell. He shouldn't be surprised given that the mage worked for Spike. The smell of terror swept over him, and Angel turned to see that Lindsey had gone dangerously pale.
"I assure you, the procedure is not nearly as drastic as some dark magics. It still cannot enslave the soul." For the first time, Harry sounded unsure. "There are certainly other spells in there if you would rather look at all the offerings. Nature is rather fond of slavery in any number of forms." Harry started backing toward the door. "Perhaps you should ignore the leucochloridium and osedax worms altogether." He cleared his throat. "Cuckoos and cleaner fish and remoras are all interesting options." He was backing up now, his hand feeling for the knob. "Perhaps I should leave you with the choice. If you need any clarification, please do not hesitate to call on me, Master Angel." He stood, his hand on the doorknob, clearly begging for permission to leave.
Angel waved his hand for him to go, not even watching the man flee.
"So, is that my future?" Lindsey asked with the sort of stoic horror that made it clear that he expected Angel to say yes.
"Good lord, no. I should think not," Wesley blurted out before Angel could answer. Angel stepped closer and let his hand rest on Lindsey's shoulder, ignoring the flinch. "We really should not be shocked considering that the nature mages have a long history of rather dubious alliances. In the 1300's a number of green mages made a pact with a dark mage named-"
"Wesley," Angel said softly. The man stopped and looked over to where Angel was slowly stroking Lindsey's shoulder. Lindsey still stank of terror and his body was rigid.
"Ah, yes. Clearly we will not be using Mage McMillian's skills." Wesley walked over and sat on the bed a few feet from Lindsey, the binder still clutched in his hand. Now Angel could see the full color picture of a snail with its eye stalks swollen and pussy and florescent green. Lindsey lost a little more color.
"Is that what you have planned for me?" Lindsey asked again, looking up at Angel.
"No," Angel said firmly.
"But you plan to keep me in slavery?"
Angel sighed. "I plan to prevent you from selling your soul to any more demons."
"I never-" Lindsey stopped when Angel held up his hand.
"Even if you did not consent to the spell, you helped a group that murders innocents and targets children. They tried to rip Cordelia's eyes out to get her visions. I will not allow you to continue to make those kinds of choices."
"Hell hath no fury like a vampire thwarted," Lindsey quipped, some of his sarcasm returning. Hopefully that was a good sign; however, Angel feared that it might be a sign that he was catching his second wind to continue their fight. He looked up, and Angel could see the craftiness return to his gaze. "So, do you plan to enslave every Wolfram and Hart lawyer?"
"Every single one who comes to me looking for a way out," Angel agreed. "You put yourself in my court, and I thought I was doing you a favor by allowing you to go home. Clearly, we both made a mistake, but I will not turn you lose so you can target my court with more of your schemes."
Lindsey looked away, and a heavy silence fell on the room. Angel stared at the wall, not sure what he was supposed to do now, but he could feel the responsibility like a weight on his chest.
"Good god. May I say that I had no idea nature was quite so creative in its admiration for slavery." Wesley interrupted the silence, flipping pages. Angel saw a line of ants on one page and a colorful orange and white fish on another. Now Angel could smell Wesley's fear, and the scent pulled on his demon. Wesley would taste so good now. If he pushed Wesley down and licked the sweat from his body, it would be strong with fear-musk and delicious. His blood would taste tart with the spice of adrenalin.
"This is interesting." Angel looked over to see a gray fish with a neon blue streak. Wesley tilted the book in Lindsey's direction, and for a second, Lindsey carefully didn't look at it. Eventually curiosity won. "Labroides. Cleaner fish. They have full and independent lives with mates and broods." Oddly, that didn't seem to make Wesley all that happy. Angel studied the man carefully.
"May I speak?" Lindsey asked. The clipped words were clearly difficult for him to say, and Angel nodded, giving permission. Lindsey turned to look at Wesley. "What enslaves them?"
Wesley shrugged. "Technically nothing. However, predator fish come to their cleaning grounds and the cleaner fish appear to only be able to live by eating the parasites and loose skin from those predators. The spell makes the slave dependent on an owner for nourishment, but nothing else." Wesley's voice was flat, and Angel moved to Lindsey's other side so he was standing between them. He rested his other hand on Wesley's shoulder. The fear smell from Wesley lessened, but so did the lust smell. When Spike had chained Angel in the basement, it was Wesley who had risked Spike's anger by following, and even now, Angel could taste the desire when he bit. The man had been dangerously loyal before, but now he was, most likely, addicted to the bite. Those clues added to the fact that he was sitting on Angel's bed discussing slavery tempted Angelus from the darker corners of Angel's mind.
"I would prefer to use the same spell with you both, and I'm not sure that one would remind Lindsey of his place." Angel kept his voice carefully neutral and his gaze focused on the book. He pretended to not notice when Wesley's gaze snapped up to him and Wesley swallowed convulsively.
"You must have seen that one coming," Lindsey said with just a hint of derision. Angel opened his mouth to correct the man, but again, Wesley jumped in there too quickly for him. Obviously, Angel was going to have to learn to talk faster.
"Actually, I did not," he snapped. Then he took a deep breath. "However, I am the first to admit that I put myself in this position, and I am not going to do anything as silly as insisting that life is being unfair. I chose to come to Angel. Anyone who knows vampire hierarchy understands that the species is hardwired to expect certain things like unwavering loyalty."
"And slavery," Lindsey said dryly.
"And slavery," Wesley agreed, his back straight, but his scent was so full of lust that Angel was having a hard time controlling his own body. He shifted his hand so that his fingers rested against the back of Wesley's neck and his thumb stroked over the tiny feeding scars. "The worms are still non-negotiable," Wesley suddenly blurted, looking up at Angel with defiance.
"Of course," Angel immediately agreed. He could hear in the tone that Wesley was not going to budge on that one, and quite frankly, the idea of having that sort of complete control was beyond terrifying. Angel needed Wesley to argue with him.
"So, you're simply going to go along with this?" Lindsey demanded.
Wesley shrugged. "You went along with Wolfram and Hart. I don't suppose this is any different."
"You're setting yourself up for slavery," Lindsey pointed out. Wesley looked over, leaning forward slightly to look around Angel, and Angel could read that expression as easily as if Wesley had called Lindsey an idiot, reminding him that he had set himself up as a perpetual slave to the law firm. Surprisingly, Lindsey didn't answer with denials this time.
"And you people call yourselves the good guys." Lindsey shook his head.
"The cuckoo bird pushes other birds' eggs out of the nest," Wesley said, ignoring Lindsey altogether. "The spell makes the slave push his own needs aside for his owner."
Angel shook his head. "I am not good enough at remembering your needs. You must keep those for yourself until I learn better," Angel said softly, still stroking his thumb over Wesley's scar. The man was choosing a form of slavery for himself. He was smelling more content than ever because he was choosing a spell to bind himself to Angel. Lindsey still smelled of outrage and fear, but the demon in Angel reveled in that, too.
"Clownfish and anemones is a rather general spell and the master can be left weakened if the slave dies," Wesley's tone made it clear that he disapproved of that as he flipped to the next page in the binder. "Considering that Lindsey and I are human, I suspect we shall both predecease you, so that would not be appropriate."
Angel sat down beside Wesley and looked at the book, his fingers still tracing across Wesley's neck. "This is rather promising. Anglerfish."
"You can't be serious," Lindsey interrupted, but Angel ignored him and focused on Wesley. They still had some time before the Groosalugg was due to come. Not much, but then Angel didn't need much time.
"The male attaches to the female and slowly becomes part of her. The spell makes it impossible for the slaves to ever leave their master and they draw energy from him. Look at it this way, Lindsey, it may give us both a longer life if we are able to draw from Angel's strength."
"A longer life as a slave." Lindsey was still not sounding happy, but Wesley smelled of contentment. His choice had been made. Angel stood up and slipped his hand around the back of Wesley's neck, pulling him up with one hand and plucking the binder away from him with the other. Tossing the binder to one side, Angel pulled him around to the far side of the bed.
"Fuck. Can I go to the bathroom while you do this?" Lindsey asked.
Angel shook his head. "Lay on the edge of the bed on your stomach, Lindsey," Angel ordered.
"What, you want my help in my own rape?" Lindsey stood up altogether. Angel had one hand on Wesley's hip and the other around his neck, and he did not have a spare hand for Lindsey or his discipline. Not now.
"I have already told you that I will not rape you. I will not, however, be happy if I must stop and secure you every time I have a better use for my time." Angel could feel his fangs drop. "So get on your stomach at the edge of the bed and be a quiet boy while I enjoy myself. And as of right now, consider your permission to speak to me revoked. Every single word will be one swat. Every second that you stand there without obeying my order will be one swat." Angel looked at Lindsey calmly. This felt right. He wasn't angry or out of control. He wasn't reacting to prophecy or fears. This was what he wanted and what Wesley wanted, and in time, it would be what Lindsey wanted. Otherwise Lindsey never would have come to Angel for help to escape the evil choices he had made in his life. That same need had driven Angel first to Whistler and then to Buffy, and if either of them had offered him a clear path as he offered Lindsey, Angel very well might have chosen it. He'd wanted that with Buffy. He'd allowed himself to yield to her, but instead, he'd inadvertently yielded to the demon inside of him.
After two seconds, Lindsey lowered himself back down to the bed and lay on his stomach facing the wall, his bound hands clenched into fists.
"Perhaps we should go to my room," Wesley suggested softly after Lindsey had obeyed.
"I don't think I want to wait," Angel said rather selfishly. The smell of lust from Wesley nearly overwhelmed him. Angel unbuttoned Wesley's pants and carefully pulled the zipper down. Wesley wasn't hard, but his cock was swelling some, and considering that they had already had sex twice in the last six hours, that was a rather impressive feat. Angel unbuttoned Wesley's shirt and then eased him back onto the bed.
Wesley reached up for Angel, and Angel caught his wrists and put them over Wesley's head. "If I didn't have the Groosalugg to deal with, I would tie your hands to the bedhead and gag you. I do love the sound of your helpless moaning," Angel admitted. If he admitted that to anyone else, he would have felt guilty about it, but not Wesley. Wesley enjoyed being helpless, and maybe it was his enjoyment that made it possible for Angel to revel in the man's helplessness.
Kneeling up, Angel pulled Wesley's pants off and tossed them at the foot of the bed before unzipping his own pants. His cock pressed forward, and the pheromones from Wesley were intoxicating. Angel took the base of his cock in his hand and reached up to pull at Wesley's nipple. Arching his back, Wesley gasped and squirmed, his body radiating heat. Before Angel could even ask, Wesley raised his legs, bracing them on Angel's shoulders. It was Wesley favorite position, folded double under Angel's strength. Helpless. Wesley had his own darkness, and even his darkness had molded itself to fit against Angel's needs.
Angel smiled, and he could feel his own darker nature sliding along the edge of his control as he pressed forward, forcing Wesley's legs up. "Such a pretty, wanton boy," Angel said before lining his cock up with Wesley's opening. The man was still loose and slick from the morning's play, and Angel slipped the head of his cock in and stopped.
"Angel!" Wesley protested, groaning loudly.
"Should make ye beg for it, but I want you too much," Angel admitted. Pressing forward, he grunted at the heat and pressure around his cock, the smell of Wesley's lust and Lindsey's indignation rising to meet him. It was a buffet of smells. Angel thrust forward, driving the breath out of Wesley before he leaned down and sucked on the skin of his scar, tasting the sweat. Wesley wiggled, and Angel arched his back, pulling out a little before driving back in. He hadn't made more than four or five thrusts when he came with a loud grunt. Even though he had just fed from Wesley, his teeth sank into the willing flesh until he could taste the coppery lust.
Angel breathed deeply, losing himself in the smells and tastes for a moment before he pulled out first his fangs and then his cock. Wesley let his legs flop back down onto the bed the second Angel sat up.
"Good lord. I think I my legs have gone boneless."
"I hope not. We still have problems to solve, and would like you at my side," Angel said. He didn’t have much to offer Wesley in the way of romance, but the man smiled at him anyway.
"Of course. The Groosalugg. We should discuss battle strategy, just as soon as I can gather a few brain cells."
Angel settled his weight down on top of Wesley, pinning the man to the bed. Wesley opened his eyes a crack to look at him. While Angel didn't say anything, Wesley slowly smiled as though Angel had just offered endearments. He smiled and he reached up to pat Angel on the shoulder and then he lay under Angel's weight, his body slowly calming so that contentment drowned out the lust.
Pairings: Angel/clan (sort of, you'll see) There's a lot of Lindsey and a lot of Wesley
Rating: ADULT
Summary: Angel now has his two boys, and maybe (just maybe) a few of Spike's lessons are starting to sink into his thick skull. Angel knows he can't keep doing what he's done, so now he has to find a way to make Spike's life rules work for him and his clan.
Warnings: Sexual slavery; Lindsey is not willing, but there's no non-con here; bondage; general dirty-wrong. If you're easily squicked, this isn't the series for you and hasn't been since the beginning.
Angel unbuckled the gag from around Wesley's face, and the man reached up to rub his jaw.
"Sore?" Reaching up, Angel ran his own thumb over Wesley's cheek and jaw. The morning stubble was rough under his fingers, and Wesley smelled of sleep and Angel.
"It feels rather odd," Wesley said, not actually complaining about the gag, and Angel stored that bit of information away for a later time. When Wesley had first come to Angel's bed, he'd been nervous and randomly babbled about the mating habits of various demons until Angel had fed from him so slowly that Wesley had fallen silent, the sound of his gasping the only interruption as Angel had slowly rediscovered human anatomy. Clearly the gag worked just as well to calm that overactive mind.
"I think you have something to say to Lindsey," Angel said with a meaningful look over to Lindsey. He was still wearing his gag, but then his comments had been rather more pointed. In fact, Angel was slightly worried about whether Wesley would be able to apologize for his own rude comments given that Lindsey had called him so many names before Angel had gotten the gag in. But Wesley surprised him.
Straightening up, he faced Lindsey with pink in his cheeks. "I am sincerely sorry for my earlier words. You are part of this clan, and I will admit that I was feeling rather peevish for reasons that had very little to do with you. I should not have taken that out on you."
Angel could almost smell Lindsey's surprise. "Are you worried about the Groosalugg?" Angel asked curiously. When he reached out to catch Wesley around the waist, Wesley yielded.
"And Cordelia," he added. "Do you need blood?" Wesley tilted his neck in invitation, and Angel's cock hardened at the sight of a half-dozen little pinpricks of white scar against his neck.
"I took from you last night. Others will feed me this morning," Angel said firmly. Not only did Wesley need some blood for himself, but Angel was going to end up back in bed if he tried to feed from Wesley. Why had he never noticed that Wesley was so quick to yield, to mold himself to Angel's needs and Angel's body? Angel had the uncomfortable suspicion that Spike might have been right about the fact that Angel had been an idiot for the last few years. Possibly longer.
"Lindsey?" Angel called, holding out his hand. Lindsey was gagged and his hands were still cuffed behind his back, but that did not prevent him from making his thoughts very clear. He had a glare on him that could wither plants. "You may come here using your own feet or you may refuse and force me to come over there. The choice is yours, but do keep in mind two facts," Angel advised him. "I own you and your blood, and I will take what is mine. If you make me come over there, I will need to do something to remind you that you are mine." Angel gave Lindsey a moment to think about that before he raised the hand he was holding out toward Lindsey.
With a final glare and a snort through his nose that was nearly as loud as a horse's, Lindsey finally moved closer. When Wesley tried to move away, Angel tightened his arm around the man even as he pulled Lindsey closer. Both men needed to be held close, even if their reasons were so very different, and Angel had to find a way to make this work or one of them was going to self-destruct. Lindsey refused to tilt his head in offering until Angel quirked an eyebrow at him.
"Other side," Angel said when Lindsey tilted to show the rough and swollen bite mark Angel had left when they had first fought. For some reason, Angel wanted that to scar undisturbed so that the rough mark would always remain to remind Lindsey of that moment when ownership had transferred. Lindsey took several seconds, and then he tilted his head to show the other side of his neck.
Slipping his hand around Lindsey's waist, Angel carefully pulled him close and tasted the warm skin before slowly sinking his fangs in just far enough to find a vein. Angel focused on making Lindsey enjoy the moment-drawing the blood as slowly as he could. At first, Lindsey was stiff in his embrace, and then his body temperature started going up and he wiggled, his breath hot against Angel's chest. Only when Lindsey was clearly feeling needy did Angel pull his fangs out and lick his lips.
Wesley was watching, an expression of concern on his face, but Angel wasn't sure what the man was concerned about. Before he could ask, a knock on the door interrupted them. Angel let go of his boys, amused when Lindsey made a little unhappy whine. The man might be mad as hell that he'd been taken captive, but he was certainly not above enjoying parts of it.
"Yes?" Angel opened the door to find Spike's new mage there. He was an older man, portly and gray-haired with only a few streaks of brown left to show its original color.
"Master Angel," he said respectfully, bowing his head. "Master Spike suggested that I present you with some options for claiming your newest slave."
Angel's eyebrows went up as he accepted the thin notebook from the mage.
"Master Spike also hoped that I could speak with the slave about what spell his previous masters used," he glanced over at the gagged man, "but if you have other uses for his mouth, I can come back later." He gave Angel another bow and then waited. Angel looked over toward Lindsey and Wesley, not sure whether Lindsey was ready to have a civil conversation.
"What does Master Spike hope to learn?" Wesley asked, stepping forward. He was dressed, but his cheeks still had the red marks from wearing the gag over night, and Angel wondered if he would be embarrassed if he knew that. There was so much Angel didn't understand about the people he was claiming as his own.
"I have told him that I am not a dark mage and I have limited knowledge about the sorts of slavery that would claim a soul, even after death, but he seems to think that I have more practical knowledge with the dark arts than anyone else in court. I imagine he is right on that count." The man smiled at Wesley, and Angel took a step back, tacitly inviting the man inside his quarters.
"You aren't a dark mage?" Wesley seemed surprised at that, and the truth was, Angel was as well.
"Ah, no. Master Spike uses a number of blessings on the lair." The mage lifted his arms and gestured at the building around them. "Witch Tara is very talented, and the various white magic fetishes and blessings would make it rather difficult for a dark mage. Apparently Master Spike has had quite the trouble with dark mages." He made a face that almost looked amused. "I do green magic."
"Really?" Wesley's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Good heavens. I had thought that discipline was nearly extinct."
The mage laughed. "So many young users tend toward dark or light magics or even the technomagics, but the nature magics and the chaos magics hold just as much power as the others. Do I take it you are a student of magics?" The older man's smile invited Wesley to share more, and Angel studied this new mage. Should he allow him access to Wesley? If he was supposed to be caring for Wesley, surely that meant he should make sure Wesley was not in any danger. He took a step toward Spike's mage, and Wesley fell silent.
"If you would allow it, Master Angel. I assure you that I am loyal to Master Spike and would do nothing to endanger the members of your court," Spike's mage hurried to add.
Angel expected Wesley to furiously protest that he had a right to speak with whomever he liked, but the man was extraordinarily quiet. "Perhaps Lindsey is in a mood to answer some questions," Angel said instead of giving that permission.
"Of course," the mage offered.
"I'm sorry, I missed your name," Wesley stepped forward and offered his hand without answering the man's question about Wesley's own interest in magic.
"Harry, Harry McMillian."
"Wesley Wyndam-Pryce." They shook hands while Angel unlocked and unbuckled Lindsey's gag. Lindsey was rolling his eyes but at least he managed to remain quiet.
"Remember, you only have permission to speak to me," Angel reminded him.
"How long are you going to keep playing this game, Angel? I know you. This is not your style."
"You do not know me that well," Angel said firmly as he took hold of the man's arm and walked him over to the edge of the bed and forced him to sit. The fact was that Angel hadn't known himself because he was enjoying this perhaps a little too much. "If you have a question for Lindsey, ask it," Angel told Harry.
"Thank you, Master Angel. Now Lindsey, I know that the spell bound your soul, even after death, and the fact that Angel had a prior claim means that it was put in place after you first approached Angel in Los Angeles. However, I know little else. Do you know what the spell was?"
Lindsey had the good sense to look to Angel for permission to speak. Angel nodded and then rewarded that behavior by running his thumb over the red pinpricks from Angel's feeding. Lindsey shivered. "I signed a non-compete agreement after going back to Wolfram and Hart, but I never sold myself into slavery."
Harry snorted.
"Watch yourself, mage," Angel warned, his eyes turning yellow. He would give Wesley some room to adjust, but Spike's mage would pay if he made Lindsey feel uncomfortable.
Harry blushed. "I apologize, Master Angel. No doubt the young one believes that."
"But it's not true?" Angel guessed.
"No, Master. A dark mage can enslave the body, as can a technomage or even a nature mage as myself. In fact, the papers I brought were to offer a number of slavery spells. Master Spike said that you were to choose whichever was of interest to you. However, I cannot enslave a soul, and a dark mage can only enslave a soul that has given itself freely to the evil."
"Like seeing that he's working for a murderous demon and going back in return for a promotion?" Wesley asked.
"Wesley," Angel warned. He oddly felt like he was playing the part of the mother between two squabbling siblings in this family drama.
Wesley blushed. "I hardly have clean hands myself. I chose to follow the watchers long after I realized that they were preying on girls who were too young to care for themselves. Their definition of training rarely included anything as mundane as reading or learning to function in the world, and the potential slayers were often removed from homes as young as five. So, I am not condemning Lindsey; however, it does seem likely that Lindsey sold his soul."
Angel looked down. "Lindsey?" he asked.
"I didn't sell my soul," Lindsey said mulishly. Angel nodded. Clearly he had and he was not yet ready to face reality. Wesley opened his mouth to continue to argue, and Angel tossed the binder Harry had given him toward Wesley as a distraction.
"What are these?" Wesley caught the binder, dropped it, and then grabbed it off the floor. "Oh dear."
"Wesley?" Angel took a step forward so he could see what had alarmed Wesley enough that the blood had largely drained from his face.
"Ah, the leucochloridium worms enslavement spell." Harry sounded pleased. "That is quite a difficult spell, but if a form of slavery exists in nature, I can harness nature's intent and bend it toward human slavery."
"This is reprehensible." Wesley's voice came out as a horrified whisper.
"It is rather drastic," Harry agreed. He looked up at Angel, that same genial smile in place. "The worm enters a snail through eggs left in bird droppings. It then reproduces, takes over the snail's brain and forces the beast into the full sunlight. The worm fills the eye sack with eggs that pulse and make the entire stalk bulge until they appear to be two caterpillars. A bird sees that and either rips the snail from the shell or simply rips off the snail's face, eating both it and the worm eggs. If the snail is particularly unlucky, it survives having its eyestalks ripped off simply to regrow them and repeat the procedure. Were you to choose such a drastic form of slavery, you would have almost complete control over your slave's body. He would do as you wished even if it would be sure to lead to certain death."
Wesley looked over in complete horror, and Angel could only stare in shock at the man who was offering to perform such a horrifying spell. He shouldn't be surprised given that the mage worked for Spike. The smell of terror swept over him, and Angel turned to see that Lindsey had gone dangerously pale.
"I assure you, the procedure is not nearly as drastic as some dark magics. It still cannot enslave the soul." For the first time, Harry sounded unsure. "There are certainly other spells in there if you would rather look at all the offerings. Nature is rather fond of slavery in any number of forms." Harry started backing toward the door. "Perhaps you should ignore the leucochloridium and osedax worms altogether." He cleared his throat. "Cuckoos and cleaner fish and remoras are all interesting options." He was backing up now, his hand feeling for the knob. "Perhaps I should leave you with the choice. If you need any clarification, please do not hesitate to call on me, Master Angel." He stood, his hand on the doorknob, clearly begging for permission to leave.
Angel waved his hand for him to go, not even watching the man flee.
"So, is that my future?" Lindsey asked with the sort of stoic horror that made it clear that he expected Angel to say yes.
"Good lord, no. I should think not," Wesley blurted out before Angel could answer. Angel stepped closer and let his hand rest on Lindsey's shoulder, ignoring the flinch. "We really should not be shocked considering that the nature mages have a long history of rather dubious alliances. In the 1300's a number of green mages made a pact with a dark mage named-"
"Wesley," Angel said softly. The man stopped and looked over to where Angel was slowly stroking Lindsey's shoulder. Lindsey still stank of terror and his body was rigid.
"Ah, yes. Clearly we will not be using Mage McMillian's skills." Wesley walked over and sat on the bed a few feet from Lindsey, the binder still clutched in his hand. Now Angel could see the full color picture of a snail with its eye stalks swollen and pussy and florescent green. Lindsey lost a little more color.
"Is that what you have planned for me?" Lindsey asked again, looking up at Angel.
"No," Angel said firmly.
"But you plan to keep me in slavery?"
Angel sighed. "I plan to prevent you from selling your soul to any more demons."
"I never-" Lindsey stopped when Angel held up his hand.
"Even if you did not consent to the spell, you helped a group that murders innocents and targets children. They tried to rip Cordelia's eyes out to get her visions. I will not allow you to continue to make those kinds of choices."
"Hell hath no fury like a vampire thwarted," Lindsey quipped, some of his sarcasm returning. Hopefully that was a good sign; however, Angel feared that it might be a sign that he was catching his second wind to continue their fight. He looked up, and Angel could see the craftiness return to his gaze. "So, do you plan to enslave every Wolfram and Hart lawyer?"
"Every single one who comes to me looking for a way out," Angel agreed. "You put yourself in my court, and I thought I was doing you a favor by allowing you to go home. Clearly, we both made a mistake, but I will not turn you lose so you can target my court with more of your schemes."
Lindsey looked away, and a heavy silence fell on the room. Angel stared at the wall, not sure what he was supposed to do now, but he could feel the responsibility like a weight on his chest.
"Good god. May I say that I had no idea nature was quite so creative in its admiration for slavery." Wesley interrupted the silence, flipping pages. Angel saw a line of ants on one page and a colorful orange and white fish on another. Now Angel could smell Wesley's fear, and the scent pulled on his demon. Wesley would taste so good now. If he pushed Wesley down and licked the sweat from his body, it would be strong with fear-musk and delicious. His blood would taste tart with the spice of adrenalin.
"This is interesting." Angel looked over to see a gray fish with a neon blue streak. Wesley tilted the book in Lindsey's direction, and for a second, Lindsey carefully didn't look at it. Eventually curiosity won. "Labroides. Cleaner fish. They have full and independent lives with mates and broods." Oddly, that didn't seem to make Wesley all that happy. Angel studied the man carefully.
"May I speak?" Lindsey asked. The clipped words were clearly difficult for him to say, and Angel nodded, giving permission. Lindsey turned to look at Wesley. "What enslaves them?"
Wesley shrugged. "Technically nothing. However, predator fish come to their cleaning grounds and the cleaner fish appear to only be able to live by eating the parasites and loose skin from those predators. The spell makes the slave dependent on an owner for nourishment, but nothing else." Wesley's voice was flat, and Angel moved to Lindsey's other side so he was standing between them. He rested his other hand on Wesley's shoulder. The fear smell from Wesley lessened, but so did the lust smell. When Spike had chained Angel in the basement, it was Wesley who had risked Spike's anger by following, and even now, Angel could taste the desire when he bit. The man had been dangerously loyal before, but now he was, most likely, addicted to the bite. Those clues added to the fact that he was sitting on Angel's bed discussing slavery tempted Angelus from the darker corners of Angel's mind.
"I would prefer to use the same spell with you both, and I'm not sure that one would remind Lindsey of his place." Angel kept his voice carefully neutral and his gaze focused on the book. He pretended to not notice when Wesley's gaze snapped up to him and Wesley swallowed convulsively.
"You must have seen that one coming," Lindsey said with just a hint of derision. Angel opened his mouth to correct the man, but again, Wesley jumped in there too quickly for him. Obviously, Angel was going to have to learn to talk faster.
"Actually, I did not," he snapped. Then he took a deep breath. "However, I am the first to admit that I put myself in this position, and I am not going to do anything as silly as insisting that life is being unfair. I chose to come to Angel. Anyone who knows vampire hierarchy understands that the species is hardwired to expect certain things like unwavering loyalty."
"And slavery," Lindsey said dryly.
"And slavery," Wesley agreed, his back straight, but his scent was so full of lust that Angel was having a hard time controlling his own body. He shifted his hand so that his fingers rested against the back of Wesley's neck and his thumb stroked over the tiny feeding scars. "The worms are still non-negotiable," Wesley suddenly blurted, looking up at Angel with defiance.
"Of course," Angel immediately agreed. He could hear in the tone that Wesley was not going to budge on that one, and quite frankly, the idea of having that sort of complete control was beyond terrifying. Angel needed Wesley to argue with him.
"So, you're simply going to go along with this?" Lindsey demanded.
Wesley shrugged. "You went along with Wolfram and Hart. I don't suppose this is any different."
"You're setting yourself up for slavery," Lindsey pointed out. Wesley looked over, leaning forward slightly to look around Angel, and Angel could read that expression as easily as if Wesley had called Lindsey an idiot, reminding him that he had set himself up as a perpetual slave to the law firm. Surprisingly, Lindsey didn't answer with denials this time.
"And you people call yourselves the good guys." Lindsey shook his head.
"The cuckoo bird pushes other birds' eggs out of the nest," Wesley said, ignoring Lindsey altogether. "The spell makes the slave push his own needs aside for his owner."
Angel shook his head. "I am not good enough at remembering your needs. You must keep those for yourself until I learn better," Angel said softly, still stroking his thumb over Wesley's scar. The man was choosing a form of slavery for himself. He was smelling more content than ever because he was choosing a spell to bind himself to Angel. Lindsey still smelled of outrage and fear, but the demon in Angel reveled in that, too.
"Clownfish and anemones is a rather general spell and the master can be left weakened if the slave dies," Wesley's tone made it clear that he disapproved of that as he flipped to the next page in the binder. "Considering that Lindsey and I are human, I suspect we shall both predecease you, so that would not be appropriate."
Angel sat down beside Wesley and looked at the book, his fingers still tracing across Wesley's neck. "This is rather promising. Anglerfish."
"You can't be serious," Lindsey interrupted, but Angel ignored him and focused on Wesley. They still had some time before the Groosalugg was due to come. Not much, but then Angel didn't need much time.
"The male attaches to the female and slowly becomes part of her. The spell makes it impossible for the slaves to ever leave their master and they draw energy from him. Look at it this way, Lindsey, it may give us both a longer life if we are able to draw from Angel's strength."
"A longer life as a slave." Lindsey was still not sounding happy, but Wesley smelled of contentment. His choice had been made. Angel stood up and slipped his hand around the back of Wesley's neck, pulling him up with one hand and plucking the binder away from him with the other. Tossing the binder to one side, Angel pulled him around to the far side of the bed.
"Fuck. Can I go to the bathroom while you do this?" Lindsey asked.
Angel shook his head. "Lay on the edge of the bed on your stomach, Lindsey," Angel ordered.
"What, you want my help in my own rape?" Lindsey stood up altogether. Angel had one hand on Wesley's hip and the other around his neck, and he did not have a spare hand for Lindsey or his discipline. Not now.
"I have already told you that I will not rape you. I will not, however, be happy if I must stop and secure you every time I have a better use for my time." Angel could feel his fangs drop. "So get on your stomach at the edge of the bed and be a quiet boy while I enjoy myself. And as of right now, consider your permission to speak to me revoked. Every single word will be one swat. Every second that you stand there without obeying my order will be one swat." Angel looked at Lindsey calmly. This felt right. He wasn't angry or out of control. He wasn't reacting to prophecy or fears. This was what he wanted and what Wesley wanted, and in time, it would be what Lindsey wanted. Otherwise Lindsey never would have come to Angel for help to escape the evil choices he had made in his life. That same need had driven Angel first to Whistler and then to Buffy, and if either of them had offered him a clear path as he offered Lindsey, Angel very well might have chosen it. He'd wanted that with Buffy. He'd allowed himself to yield to her, but instead, he'd inadvertently yielded to the demon inside of him.
After two seconds, Lindsey lowered himself back down to the bed and lay on his stomach facing the wall, his bound hands clenched into fists.
"Perhaps we should go to my room," Wesley suggested softly after Lindsey had obeyed.
"I don't think I want to wait," Angel said rather selfishly. The smell of lust from Wesley nearly overwhelmed him. Angel unbuttoned Wesley's pants and carefully pulled the zipper down. Wesley wasn't hard, but his cock was swelling some, and considering that they had already had sex twice in the last six hours, that was a rather impressive feat. Angel unbuttoned Wesley's shirt and then eased him back onto the bed.
Wesley reached up for Angel, and Angel caught his wrists and put them over Wesley's head. "If I didn't have the Groosalugg to deal with, I would tie your hands to the bedhead and gag you. I do love the sound of your helpless moaning," Angel admitted. If he admitted that to anyone else, he would have felt guilty about it, but not Wesley. Wesley enjoyed being helpless, and maybe it was his enjoyment that made it possible for Angel to revel in the man's helplessness.
Kneeling up, Angel pulled Wesley's pants off and tossed them at the foot of the bed before unzipping his own pants. His cock pressed forward, and the pheromones from Wesley were intoxicating. Angel took the base of his cock in his hand and reached up to pull at Wesley's nipple. Arching his back, Wesley gasped and squirmed, his body radiating heat. Before Angel could even ask, Wesley raised his legs, bracing them on Angel's shoulders. It was Wesley favorite position, folded double under Angel's strength. Helpless. Wesley had his own darkness, and even his darkness had molded itself to fit against Angel's needs.
Angel smiled, and he could feel his own darker nature sliding along the edge of his control as he pressed forward, forcing Wesley's legs up. "Such a pretty, wanton boy," Angel said before lining his cock up with Wesley's opening. The man was still loose and slick from the morning's play, and Angel slipped the head of his cock in and stopped.
"Angel!" Wesley protested, groaning loudly.
"Should make ye beg for it, but I want you too much," Angel admitted. Pressing forward, he grunted at the heat and pressure around his cock, the smell of Wesley's lust and Lindsey's indignation rising to meet him. It was a buffet of smells. Angel thrust forward, driving the breath out of Wesley before he leaned down and sucked on the skin of his scar, tasting the sweat. Wesley wiggled, and Angel arched his back, pulling out a little before driving back in. He hadn't made more than four or five thrusts when he came with a loud grunt. Even though he had just fed from Wesley, his teeth sank into the willing flesh until he could taste the coppery lust.
Angel breathed deeply, losing himself in the smells and tastes for a moment before he pulled out first his fangs and then his cock. Wesley let his legs flop back down onto the bed the second Angel sat up.
"Good lord. I think I my legs have gone boneless."
"I hope not. We still have problems to solve, and would like you at my side," Angel said. He didn’t have much to offer Wesley in the way of romance, but the man smiled at him anyway.
"Of course. The Groosalugg. We should discuss battle strategy, just as soon as I can gather a few brain cells."
Angel settled his weight down on top of Wesley, pinning the man to the bed. Wesley opened his eyes a crack to look at him. While Angel didn't say anything, Wesley slowly smiled as though Angel had just offered endearments. He smiled and he reached up to pat Angel on the shoulder and then he lay under Angel's weight, his body slowly calming so that contentment drowned out the lust.