Ficlet: Into Thin Air. FRAO/NC-17 WARNING: TORTURE, NON-CON Angel/Wes
Title: Into Thin Air
Author: maryfic
Disclaimer: I do not own these delightful boys.
Rating/Pairing: FRAO/NC-17, Angel/Wes
Word count: 650
Setting: Angel S3, ep 17, Forgiving. How the hospital scene went in *my* head.
Warning: Torture. Nasty, non-con. Character death.
A/N: For the Thanksgiving Drabble Challenge. Dedicated to my best friend - who *begged* me for Angel/Wes (not Angelus) torture. Yeah, that’s right. I put it out there. Beggar.
***
“I don’t know, he just vanished into thin air!” the upset nurse told Gunn, after a not so polite inquiry of the location of the boss man, who’d gone into Wes’s room and not come back out. Now both were gone. Missing, like Connor. Only he was willing to bet they weren’t in some damn hell dimension. Gunn wiped a hand over his brow and moved around her to begin the search.
Wes was conveniently gagged, which was how he would stay until Angel decided otherwise. He’d made damn sure Wes knew who it was before he’d put his plan into action. Vampires could secret all sorts of things on their person, including ball gags, sex toys, and lengths of rope that would hold a werewolf, let alone a traitorous former employee and friend.
The ride in the trunk was jostling, and Wes tried to stifle groans behind the rubber ball in his throat. He was pretty sure this wasn’t going to end well - but he’d been in the right, hadn’t he? Hadn’t he? The former watcher didn’t like the strings of doubt that echoed in his mind.
Angel was furious. He drove and drove and drove until his anger had settled into a cold rage in the pit of his stomach, soaking in the pool of blood he’d taken from Wesley before he’d slammed the trunk lid. Ending up in the same abandoned warehouse that Spike’d had him tortured in, he parked and lifted a muttering Wesley from the trunk. When the lid was closed, he slammed the man face down against him, pressing his bigger form against him to hiss in his ear. “I’m going to make you disappear, Wes. But first, I’m going to make you hurt.”
Wesley trembled beneath him and shut up.
Angel particularly admired the red line, bared from underneath the bandage he’d ripped off moments ago. But slitting the man’s throat had been cowardly. He preferred a more - hands on method. He reached to pull the dangling meat hook down to attach it through Wes’ wrist bonds. Then he pulled the chain until he was satisfied with the position, Wesley’s toes scraping the floor. Just enough to strain the shoulders - they’d pull out of joint in a few hours, but would hurt like fuck until then.
“I thought we were friends, Wes. I thought you *trusted* me.” The glint of a dull metal - gold mixed with iron. Wes recognized the first weapon and his eyes widened. It was a Zulu knife, purported to allow the wielder to cut internally by making small cuts externally. Symbols. He had no doubt Angel was qualified.
Clearly he expected no answer, as he moved swiftly to make the first few symbols. Kidney, the lining of his left lung. Not enough to puncture. A scrape of bone along his right femur as the blade actually slid inside his flesh, delicately maneuvered around the artery.
Other knives came, then, and the very worst came when Angel made a slit up his cock, then ran his tongue up the shaft, using his fangs to open the cut. To his shame, Wes hardened under the cruelty, but he didn’t cry or scream.
He had plenty of practice not giving in to humiliation of this sort.
When Angel lowered him nearly to the floor and forced his mouth open to take the vampire’s cock, he choked and struggled to breathe until spots swam in front of his eyes before Angel came, shooting down his throat, then broke three teeth pulling out violently.
He finally screamed when his legs were yanked apart with chain and Angel raped him, not only with flesh, but with an iron stave that tore him and left his voice gone, screaming whispers into the dark warehouse.
Angel left the body cooling when he was finished, blood pooling beneath the re-opened neck wound.
“That’s how you slit a throat.”
END Into Thin Air
Author: maryfic
Disclaimer: I do not own these delightful boys.
Rating/Pairing: FRAO/NC-17, Angel/Wes
Word count: 650
Setting: Angel S3, ep 17, Forgiving. How the hospital scene went in *my* head.
Warning: Torture. Nasty, non-con. Character death.
A/N: For the Thanksgiving Drabble Challenge. Dedicated to my best friend - who *begged* me for Angel/Wes (not Angelus) torture. Yeah, that’s right. I put it out there. Beggar.
***
“I don’t know, he just vanished into thin air!” the upset nurse told Gunn, after a not so polite inquiry of the location of the boss man, who’d gone into Wes’s room and not come back out. Now both were gone. Missing, like Connor. Only he was willing to bet they weren’t in some damn hell dimension. Gunn wiped a hand over his brow and moved around her to begin the search.
Wes was conveniently gagged, which was how he would stay until Angel decided otherwise. He’d made damn sure Wes knew who it was before he’d put his plan into action. Vampires could secret all sorts of things on their person, including ball gags, sex toys, and lengths of rope that would hold a werewolf, let alone a traitorous former employee and friend.
The ride in the trunk was jostling, and Wes tried to stifle groans behind the rubber ball in his throat. He was pretty sure this wasn’t going to end well - but he’d been in the right, hadn’t he? Hadn’t he? The former watcher didn’t like the strings of doubt that echoed in his mind.
Angel was furious. He drove and drove and drove until his anger had settled into a cold rage in the pit of his stomach, soaking in the pool of blood he’d taken from Wesley before he’d slammed the trunk lid. Ending up in the same abandoned warehouse that Spike’d had him tortured in, he parked and lifted a muttering Wesley from the trunk. When the lid was closed, he slammed the man face down against him, pressing his bigger form against him to hiss in his ear. “I’m going to make you disappear, Wes. But first, I’m going to make you hurt.”
Wesley trembled beneath him and shut up.
Angel particularly admired the red line, bared from underneath the bandage he’d ripped off moments ago. But slitting the man’s throat had been cowardly. He preferred a more - hands on method. He reached to pull the dangling meat hook down to attach it through Wes’ wrist bonds. Then he pulled the chain until he was satisfied with the position, Wesley’s toes scraping the floor. Just enough to strain the shoulders - they’d pull out of joint in a few hours, but would hurt like fuck until then.
“I thought we were friends, Wes. I thought you *trusted* me.” The glint of a dull metal - gold mixed with iron. Wes recognized the first weapon and his eyes widened. It was a Zulu knife, purported to allow the wielder to cut internally by making small cuts externally. Symbols. He had no doubt Angel was qualified.
Clearly he expected no answer, as he moved swiftly to make the first few symbols. Kidney, the lining of his left lung. Not enough to puncture. A scrape of bone along his right femur as the blade actually slid inside his flesh, delicately maneuvered around the artery.
Other knives came, then, and the very worst came when Angel made a slit up his cock, then ran his tongue up the shaft, using his fangs to open the cut. To his shame, Wes hardened under the cruelty, but he didn’t cry or scream.
He had plenty of practice not giving in to humiliation of this sort.
When Angel lowered him nearly to the floor and forced his mouth open to take the vampire’s cock, he choked and struggled to breathe until spots swam in front of his eyes before Angel came, shooting down his throat, then broke three teeth pulling out violently.
He finally screamed when his legs were yanked apart with chain and Angel raped him, not only with flesh, but with an iron stave that tore him and left his voice gone, screaming whispers into the dark warehouse.
Angel left the body cooling when he was finished, blood pooling beneath the re-opened neck wound.
“That’s how you slit a throat.”
END Into Thin Air