Five fics
In order from 1999 to 2003, the Words of the Day for August 30th.
Slash, some is pretty NC-17, though most is rated R at most. Each of the 5 parts, which are a serial (I cheat! I cheat!), is exactly 100 words, so this is exactly 500 words.
Pairing: Wes/Lindsey
Spoilers: as far as episode 99 of Angel....whatever it's called. Er...Damage?
Warnings: little porny, lot slashy, little dark.
Polyglot
Wes speaks many languages. He knows Ancient Sumerian, Italian, Latin, some Pylean, and a host of other dialects from several different dimensions. He knows the language of love, though he doesn’t have the most fluent elocution there, and he knows the language of lies.
Lies are another language he’s better at reading than he is at speaking. He knows when someone is lying, easily, whether or not he knows the truth of the lie.
He knows Lindsey knows who he is. They’ve met, several times actually, but that doesn’t stop Lindsey from trying to tell Wes his name is Doyle.
Dudgeon
Lindsey balks at him when Wes accidentally calls him by his real name. They both know he’s pretending to be Angel’s long lost companion, though only one of them knows why.
Either way, Lindsey’s indignation doesn’t keep him from letting out a tiny breath when Wesley’s tongue traces the path of a black tattoo. Wesley can’t read the markings, they’re in one of the few languages he has no knowledge of, but by tracing them with is tongue he can commit them to memory.
He doesn’t care, because all he’s thinking right now is how wonderfully salty Lindsey’s skin tastes.
Billet
Wesley takes up residence for the afternoon in Lindsey’s bed, opening space in his head for the lie. He doesn’t care about the blackness around Lindsey’s heart, the ruse he’s created, or the reasons behind it. He’s tired of pretending he’s not walking the fine line between gray and white. He’s tired of pretending he stepped off to the wrong side of that line long, long ago.
Lindsey doesn’t mind when Wes spends the afternoon. They don’t speak, knowing there’s no point in filling the space with lies rather than moans and cries and the slapping of flesh on flesh.
Prescient
Lindsey’s pretending he’s a visionary for the Powers; Wesley’s the one who knew how their parting would occur. Wesley would get off one more time, in Lindsey’s mouth, taste himself on Lindsey’s tongue as they kissed, Wesley’s hand stroking Lindsey’s cock. Wes would take a moment, then stand and put his clothes on before heading straight home to wash the smell of the man off his skin before he entered the office come morning.
Angel’s smelled past lovers on him before. He’ll tell Angel he saw Lindsey, but Angel doesn’t need to know what Wes did when he saw him.
Gainsay
“Lindsey’s back in town,” Wesley says, needlessly.
Angel doesn’t say anything, keeps Wes pressed against the wall, shirt collar held tight against his throat by Angel’s fist.
“What is it with you and evil lawyers?” Angel finally asks him.
Wes apparently didn’t wash enough to rid his body of the smell of sex.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Angel.”
They stare each other down. A soft knock is heard on Angel’s office door, and after a moment he lets Wesley down to the floor. Wes straightens his tie.
“He told me his name was Doyle.”
Angel can’t speak.
polyglot: speaking many languages.
dudgeon: a state or fit of intense indignation.
billet: to quarter, or place in lodgings.
prescient: knowing or anticipating the outcome of events before they happen.
gainsay: to contradict; to deny.
Slash, some is pretty NC-17, though most is rated R at most. Each of the 5 parts, which are a serial (I cheat! I cheat!), is exactly 100 words, so this is exactly 500 words.
Pairing: Wes/Lindsey
Spoilers: as far as episode 99 of Angel....whatever it's called. Er...Damage?
Warnings: little porny, lot slashy, little dark.
Polyglot
Wes speaks many languages. He knows Ancient Sumerian, Italian, Latin, some Pylean, and a host of other dialects from several different dimensions. He knows the language of love, though he doesn’t have the most fluent elocution there, and he knows the language of lies.
Lies are another language he’s better at reading than he is at speaking. He knows when someone is lying, easily, whether or not he knows the truth of the lie.
He knows Lindsey knows who he is. They’ve met, several times actually, but that doesn’t stop Lindsey from trying to tell Wes his name is Doyle.
Dudgeon
Lindsey balks at him when Wes accidentally calls him by his real name. They both know he’s pretending to be Angel’s long lost companion, though only one of them knows why.
Either way, Lindsey’s indignation doesn’t keep him from letting out a tiny breath when Wesley’s tongue traces the path of a black tattoo. Wesley can’t read the markings, they’re in one of the few languages he has no knowledge of, but by tracing them with is tongue he can commit them to memory.
He doesn’t care, because all he’s thinking right now is how wonderfully salty Lindsey’s skin tastes.
Billet
Wesley takes up residence for the afternoon in Lindsey’s bed, opening space in his head for the lie. He doesn’t care about the blackness around Lindsey’s heart, the ruse he’s created, or the reasons behind it. He’s tired of pretending he’s not walking the fine line between gray and white. He’s tired of pretending he stepped off to the wrong side of that line long, long ago.
Lindsey doesn’t mind when Wes spends the afternoon. They don’t speak, knowing there’s no point in filling the space with lies rather than moans and cries and the slapping of flesh on flesh.
Prescient
Lindsey’s pretending he’s a visionary for the Powers; Wesley’s the one who knew how their parting would occur. Wesley would get off one more time, in Lindsey’s mouth, taste himself on Lindsey’s tongue as they kissed, Wesley’s hand stroking Lindsey’s cock. Wes would take a moment, then stand and put his clothes on before heading straight home to wash the smell of the man off his skin before he entered the office come morning.
Angel’s smelled past lovers on him before. He’ll tell Angel he saw Lindsey, but Angel doesn’t need to know what Wes did when he saw him.
Gainsay
“Lindsey’s back in town,” Wesley says, needlessly.
Angel doesn’t say anything, keeps Wes pressed against the wall, shirt collar held tight against his throat by Angel’s fist.
“What is it with you and evil lawyers?” Angel finally asks him.
Wes apparently didn’t wash enough to rid his body of the smell of sex.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Angel.”
They stare each other down. A soft knock is heard on Angel’s office door, and after a moment he lets Wesley down to the floor. Wes straightens his tie.
“He told me his name was Doyle.”
Angel can’t speak.
polyglot: speaking many languages.
dudgeon: a state or fit of intense indignation.
billet: to quarter, or place in lodgings.
prescient: knowing or anticipating the outcome of events before they happen.
gainsay: to contradict; to deny.