We Prick You

[lostakasha.livejournal.com]

Author: Lostakasha
Title: We Prick You
Pairing: Angel/Lindsey, Season 2 AtS
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Don't own them.
Summary: Based on Bowie/Eno "We Prick You" for slashthedrabble Bowie lyrics challenge.



We Prick You
Not that he would bottom for Lindsey, of course not. Ever.

Angel likes to see Lindsey's face when they fuck because the electricity of hatred is far more powerful than the rapture of love.

Hatred is rapture of a kind, lifting the heart on decadent and lethal blades forged in steel and fired in the ice of righteousness. Lindsey cherishes his hatred like a favorite sword, edges slick with the lifeblood of believers, luxuriously rending dreams with a single, light touch.

Wad of blood and tissue and spit hacked against the back of his hand, the jagged edge of a broken molar serrating a hole in his cheek but it doesn’t stop Lindsey from laughing. He’ll be pissing blood for days, breathing past razor blades while his ribs knit back and his collarbone sets but the pain is friendly now, carrying everything in the room away on whitecaps of agony. Everything, of course, but Angel’s placidly rabid face, empty as noontime.

“So what are you gonna do now, Angel? Fuck me? C’mon, make it prosaic. I’ll even struggle, maybe shed a tear.”

The press of his diamond-hard cockhead shears itself against the silver teeth of his zipper and sharpens Angel's worldview to the blood seeping from his quarry's pale, broken face.

"Show some respect," Angel sighs, pleased that he's done enough damage to make Lindsey forget what he really wants. Swallowing borrowed saliva, he bends and touches the succulent wound. Sweeps his fingers through it as tenderly as a lover might sweep a trail of come from his abdomen.

Lindsey waits for the punch, the breathtaking snap of tendon on bone, but it doesn't arrive. He holds his eyes open against the pain long enough to see Angel lick his fingers with a satisfied moan, rise, and walk away.