Lindsey McDonald ([info]rogue_lawyer) wrote in [info]wes_hamilton,
@ 2005-07-07 21:02:00
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Tick-tock...
Here’s a fun test: try sitting still and not doing a single damn thing for one minute. Just sit and count, slow and proper, one-Mississippi, two-Mississippi, right up to 60. Boring, huh? Think you could do it for five minutes? How about 45? There are 60 of those shockingly long minutes in an hour, 24 of those hours in a day, 7 of those days in a week … and by my calculations, I’ve been sitting and counting and trying not to go insane for just over 24,400 minutes now.

Sadistic undead bastard. Gonna kill him and use his ashes for confetti.

Eve hasn’t been down to visit me, and I can’t say I really blame her not wanting to waltz back into W&H just yet. Smart girl that she is, she’s probably laying low right now, but when I get out of here, we're gonna wreck some good old-fashioned havoc, my girl and me.

If I get out of here. They told me that they’re keeping me alive for information, but the fact that they don’t even bother to question me anymore makes me think they just haven’t got the balls to do me in. Gift of my species, some sort of sacred carte blanche when it comes to the Good Guy Code. “We don’t kill humans.”

Goddamn, I am sick of this place.

Watching the Fyarl in the cell across from me slowly going nuts was good for a few days worth of amusement, until he bashed his big horned head in against the wall and left me all by my lonesome again. The guards said he’d been down here for just over two months. Numbers, it seems, are getting awfully important. Two taps on the glass for ‘no’, one for ‘yes’, continuous pounding for ‘I’m-a-stupid-demon-and-want-to-play-too’ … then there are the lucky guys who know some Morse code, myself included. You learn things down here. Veritable wealth of information, rotting away in a crummy sensory-vacuum.

For Chrissake, someone torture me for information already! It’d be the highlight of my whole 10,800-minute week. My thoughts are starting to echo in my head, just like my voice when I risk speaking aloud, and maybe that Fyarl’s not looking so stupid anymore. Someone has to remember I’m down here.

Anybody?

[Open to anyone...]

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[info]_keep_me
2005-07-08 05:49 am UTC (link)
Hamilton. The new pain in my ass. Flavor of the month...or something much less pleasant. Whatever he has up his sleeve makes me want to rip off that band-aid he is, and just get to the hair pulling. Well, not my hair.

Lindsey now, he might be useful. Maybe not the latest version of a Wolfram and Hart employee, but he's got to know something about these liasons the Senior Partners are pushing. Seemed to know something about Eve anyway. More than something. God, how is it that Lindsey and I always seem to end up sleeping with the same people?

Maybe I should go pay our captive a little visit. See if I can't pump some information out of him. If not, it might feel good to provide him with some bruising or a broken bone or two to pass the time with.

"So, Lindsey, had enough yet?" I call out down the hall, before I turn the corner towards his cell.

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[info]rogue_lawyer
2005-07-08 11:16 pm UTC (link)
If there really is some big omnipotent power sitting up in the clouds listening to our prayers, he’s got a sick sense of irony. When I said I could use some amusement…

"So, Lindsey, had enough yet?"

… I really didn’t mean him. And yet, despite that, I’m about two seconds away from rushing over to the bars and pleading for him to turn me loose. The low-grade, never-going-to-get-out-of-this-place claustrophobia that’s been eating at me peaks into something like hysteria when someone’s strolling around on the other side of the bars, making me acutely aware of just how trapped I really am. I force myself to get comfortable, slouching back against the wall, my hands laced behind my head.

“Me? Nah, life of luxury down here. Not saying I wouldn’t mind a deck of cards or something to wile away the hours…” I shoot him a cocky grin with the safety of those wonderfully vamp-proof bars between us. I’ve been staring at painfully white walls for far too long, obviously, because he actually looks halfway decent in dress pants and a dark button-down. Different, but not bad, and it might just be my imagination, but his loom seems off today. 23 floors of evil schemes pressing down around us and everyone starts to look a bit smaller.

“You need something in particular, or is this just how you get your rocks off?” I raise my voice, provoking the usual unworldly cacophony that accompanies anything louder than a murmur. “I give you the champion of the people, ladies and gentlemen!”

Okay, I changed my mind. This is pretty fun.

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[info]_keep_me
2005-07-09 07:14 am UTC (link)
I saunter towards him, pretty much ignoring everything he's said so far. He doesn't look so bad for being cooped up in a cage for days and days, a little stubble, but nothing remarkable. Maybe I should get them to cut back on the food and water. We may not kill humans, but a little torture never hurt anybody...well, never hurt Lindsey.

I casually run my finger across the bars, tamping down the urge to wipe that grin off his pretty-boy face, as I walk back and forth in front of his cage. Look who's in the cage now... and what's that I smell? A little fear maybe? Some desperation? Good.

I smirk and look at him. Cowboy, through and through always ready to shoot his mouth off. "Got that out of your system yet? 'Cause I can keep you in here, oh, indefinitely so you might as well play nice, Lindsey. No need for me to have to put Eve in a little cell all her own too, is there?" It's all bluff. As if I care what happens to Eve, but if he does... Maybe I can finally get a little information. Get out from under the corporate thumb.

"Now that we've gotten past the you-piss-me-off, I-threaten-you part of the small talk maybe we can get our hands dirty. What do you know about these liaisons the Senior Partners keep sending? You and Eve seem pretty friendly, and you're not exactly new around these parts; you must know something, as hard to believe as that sounds."

"Oh, and if I ever I need you to get my rocks off, I'll let you know. But I wouldn't hold my breath."

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[info]rogue_lawyer
2005-07-11 04:27 am UTC (link)
I’ll admit the word indefinitely has some weight behind it, especially in the W&H sense of the word. But the clueless lunk probably doesn’t even know about some of the more unique technical/mystical storage areas the boys upstairs can cook up at his request. He may be a big player, but he’d do well to remember that he’s on a whole new board now. I frown at his mention of Eve … he wouldn’t dare drag her back into this, would he?

Then again, I honestly didn’t think he was going to cut off my hand either…

“Leave her out of this. She’s harmless now.” Not entirely the truth, but I don’t think he even heard me. Super-powerful vampire hearing; selective listening skills. He continues, and it sounds like the liaisons are the hot topic of the day. Champ’s missing the mark completely on that line of questioning, and I’m trying to figure out how to tell him that in the meanest way I can without driving my only entertainment away…

"Oh, and if I ever I need you to get my rocks off, I'll let you know. But I wouldn't hold my breath."

I heard him wrong. He didn’t just say that. He’s smirking… oh yeah, he just said that. I shoot him a dubious stare, eyebrows raised. “You may be rich now, but I’m telling you … there ain’t enough money in the world.” He’s still slowly pacing in front of my cell, idly scanning the rows of baddies like I’m the least interesting thing on the planet, and it’s making me mad. I get to my feet, sauntering over to stand just out of range, struck by the sudden idea that a Holy water squirt gun would be a fun toy to have right about now.

“The liaisons,” I begin, going slow so I don’t lose him somewhere, “are the least of your worries. They’re created to be professional middlemen, which alone should tell you you’re barking up the wrong dark power. But if you really want to know about them, I’m your man.” Okay, in light of his earlier comment, that wasn’t the best possible phrasing. “Can’t think in here, though. It’s too cramped … let me out of here, and I’ll tell you everything your wee brain can hold.”

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[info]_keep_me
2005-07-12 01:03 am UTC (link)
At his frown, I know I’ve hit my mark. Eve. It’s tempting to go for the jugular with it, but this looks like a card to hold for later.

“Harmless? Right. A snake is still a snake. I don’t see her in here with you, standing by her man...but she’s not really my concern at the moment.” I deadpan it and turn away.

I take a glance around at the others we have down here, letting him work himself up. Nothing works better on Lindsey than ignoring him, Darla certainly got him wrapped around her finger that way. Not enough money in the world... Well, well. Not exactly the denial it could be. Enough loopholes and I don’t even need a lawyer to see that. Interesting. I turn back around in time to see him trying to put up a front, see if he can talk his way out of this.

I’ll tell you everything your wee brain can hold

My hands shoot out automatically towards his throat at the comment. He thought he was far enough away, but as always the boy underestimates me. “I’m sorry, Lindsey, did you say something about tiny brains, because it looks like you’re the one locked behind some bars, and I’m the one about to kick your ass. And let you out? I think I mentioned the word indefinitely, didn’t I?”

I look him over, long and slow. Give him time to maybe change his mind, and breathe...just a little. “Oh, and my man, Lindsey? Maybe you want to rephrase that? How about my next meal.” I lean in close to the bars and bare some teeth. That should give him something to think about.

“Never learn, do you Lindsey. Maybe next time you won’t insult the person you’re trying to get a favor from.” I scratch my thumbnail along his jugular, just to see if he’ll shiver. “I think I should let you sweat it out a little longer, until your attitude gets a little more... submissive. You need some more alone time, I can tell.” I can’t help the evil smile that creeps onto my face. I drop him and drift away from the cage. I start to walk away, thinking this was a huge waste of time I don’t have. But I stop and say over my shoulder:

“Unless you can convince me I should even bother believing that you’re telling me the truth.”

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[info]rogue_lawyer
2005-07-12 05:03 am UTC (link)
Sonofabitch … my attempt to dodge out of range comes about a half-second too late, and he’s got me by the throat. Always the throat with him. I lock my hands around the bars to keep from slamming into them when he yanks me forward, and it’s like struggling with a freight train. A very grumpy freight train, with vise-grip hands and a not-entirely-comforting look in its dark eyes.

If I could speak, I’d say something about the piss-poor timing of his sermons. “Oh, and my man, Lindsey? Maybe you want to rephrase that? How about my next meal.” It’s impossible to curse at the moment, but I manage a sneer as the edges of my vision fizzle into gray. He drags me closer despite my white-knuckled grip on the bars, nose-to-nose. Nose-to-chin, anyway. Hulking bastard. My lungs are going into painful spasms, mimicking the motions of breathing without actual air, trying to comfort my panicking brain. He’ll let go, he’ll let go, just a few more seconds, he won’t kill me … it’s not time yet. Instead, his nail tracks a stinging line down my throat, and I can’t gasp, but my vision blurs out of focus with the sensation.

What is he playing at?

“You need some more alone time, I can tell.” I draw in a grateful gasp of air as my knees collide with the cement floor, and my hand goes to my throat instinctively as I start to cough. The room shines too bright for a moment, but I can make out of the dark smudge of his jacket as he walks away from me.

“Wait,” I croak, swallowing hard and trying again. “Wait, goddamn you!” He’s not around the corner just yet, hesitating, still toying with me. Going to fucking roll in his ashes someday… but for now, I force myself to my feet, dragging myself up and trying to ignore the way my knees shake. “I don’t do submissive … should know that by now, champ. But I’ve got nothing to lose by telling you the truth, do I?” Short and to the point, mainly because my throat feels like it’s tearing at every syllable. “Make you a deal; I give you a preview of what I got on the liaisons … you like what you hear, let me the hell out of here, and I’ll tell you the rest.” Any desperation in my voice has to be covered by the rough rasp of being strangled, but I just can’t stop myself from the final jab that always seems to do me in. “Seems to me that CEO of Wolfram & Hart should know how to wheel and deal by now.”

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[info]_keep_me
2005-07-13 02:16 am UTC (link)
I’m just about to the end of the hall, when he finals coughs up something worth my time, but, God, the bastard just can’t resist the last word. Ever. Maybe that lack of oxygen made him dumber than I thought.

I turn to listen to his pathetic attempt at brokering a deal. His voice is raspy and not exactly steady. Neither are his legs apparently, because I can see a few tremors run through him and he’s sweating this a little. Almost losing consciousness will do that, I guess. His game face is firmly in place as usual, but his body is telling a different story. This used to be my enemy? Angelus would have had this guy for breakfast. For a week. Probably would have kept him tied up too... Ignoring the image that conjures, I glare at Lindsey, but keep my distance. Maybe if he still thinks I’m leaving, he’ll loosen his tongue a little.

“Seems to me, I don’t deal. Me vampire, you lawyer. You play “Let’s Make a Deal,” I’ll go run this place. But you go ahead and tell me what you know, and I’ll continue to keep you in your place...in that cell.”

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[info]rogue_lawyer
2005-07-13 03:41 am UTC (link)
His logic is just … nonexistent. “Why the hell would I tell you a thing if I’m not going to get anything out of it?” I exclaim in disbelief, my fingers tightening around the bars, wishing it were his neck. Not that strangling a vampire is the smartest move in the book, but it’s the principle of the idea that matters. And the important thing right now is the fact that my only possible chance at getting out of this pit, even for a few minutes, is starting to walk around the corner, out of my line of vision. The walls close in around me with a force far greater than his hands, and the words are spilling out before I can stop them, bargaining chips be damned.

“Eve was the prototype.”

I’m selling out the girl who loves me because I can’t bear my mortal (immortal?) enemy walking away from me, yet again. My soul feels dirty, and I close my eyes, resting my forehead against the cool metal of the bars and speaking into the echoing silence. Hell, he’s probably long gone by now anyway.

“Like the name implies, she was the first of her kind … a liaison for the everyday guy. Someone who walked and talked like us. What the boys upstairs didn’t bank on was the fact that if you give something enough human traits, they’re gonna start acting like a human. Stupid, sensitive, back-stabbing, just like the rest of us. She had the ability to believe she was in love … and the free will to betray them.” The thought makes me smile, remembering the look on her face when we decided we were going to do the impossible, and tear the Senior Partners down from their unholy thrones. Pity our grand plans ended up with me stuck in yet another basement. “They didn’t see us coming.”

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[info]_keep_me
2005-07-13 05:55 am UTC (link)
Paydirt. Knew he had it in him. He'd sell out his own mother if it meant getting what he wanted. I walk back toward him; no need to shout this down the hall. Boy’s already at his wit’s end if he’s broken down this quickly so calling him an idiot in front of a bunch of...oh, who am I kidding they’re nobody and this is Lindsey, I like making him look like an idiot. But still we should probably keep this all between us. I casually dip my hands into my pockets and wander towards him. He looks...a little broken, head bowed like that... He’s still got his eyes closed by the time I get back to the bars. I start to reach out to nudge his chin up to look at me, but his eyes flick up quickly and I have to abort the motion and pretend like I’m running a hand through my hair. Was I really just about to be nice to lawyer boy?

“Okay, so the design’s flawed, not helping here, Lindsey. I’ve got a very large pain in my ass upstairs, I’ll venture to say even larger than you, literally and figuratively, and you’re going to stand there and tell me that he’s human? I’ve been dealing with you fucked up evil lawyers for long enough to know that that doesn’t help me, or give me any guidelines. Besides, Eve betrayed them for you. I doubt Marcus will be so easily swayed by romantic attachments.” I look away too quickly.

I start pacing again, and then look at my watch. Shit.

Stupid, sensitive, back-stabbing, just like the rest of us. The thought niggles at me that I'm playing right into his hands, but there's no way I'm leaving him alone now. Senior Partners will be on him in a second after this little conversation and I still need more information.

“Alright, Lindsey, I have a 2 o’clock. You’re coming with me.”

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[info]rogue_lawyer
2005-07-13 04:28 pm UTC (link)
The rustle of material gives him away when he finally returns and when I look up he's nonchalantly fixing his hair. Don't know who he's trying to impress. Nobody here but us baddies.

"I doubt Marcus will be so easily swayed by romantic attachments.” The statement is accompanied by a funny little dart-away glance, and the thought the Angel's master plan may have included trying to seduce Marcus Hamilton makes me smirk. The thought that it might've included making me try to seduce him is a whole different matter, and a hell of a lot less amusing.

"I'm not saying he's human." The zip of a key-card through the locking mechanism on the door is enough to make me leave off the 'dumbass' I might've tacked on otherwise. "I'm telling you Hamilton's just the latest design in a long line of upgrades the Partners have been working on practically since Eve set foot in this dimension. What I'm telling you, Angel, is that he's not invincible."

The barred door swings open and I have to stamp down the urge to sucker-punch him in his Armani-clad stomach and bolt like a skittish horse. He'd catch me in two seconds, and I'm not sure I want to try him on this 'indefinitely' idea of his.

Here comes the fun bit: if he decides to make use of the W&H-issue manacle looped neatly beside my cell, he’s admitting he hasn’t got perfect control over this ex-attorney just yet. And if he doesn’t, I’m spared the pleasure of steel cuffs mystically enhanced to fit the wearer a half-size too small. Either way, I win. And I really don’t intend to be tactful about this. Dropping my chin and looking up at him through my eyelashes in a travesty of the submissive manner he’d demanded earlier, I offer my wrists without a word and wait for him to squirm.

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[info]_keep_me
2005-07-14 05:53 am UTC (link)
He's not invincible echoes down the hall and through my ears as if he’d shouted it at the top of his lungs.

“Well, maybe you can point that out to him while we have our afternoon meeting. He tells me things I already know, while I pretend to have a pulse. He’d probably enjoy knowing all about his flaws.” I all but sneer at him as I open the door with my key card. You’d think this was some kind of five star hotel for all the gadgets and gizmos. Lindsey is about a sliver above Hamilton when it comes down to it, but I have to give him credit for actually saying something that makes sense.

I grab his collar as he walks out, knowing that he wants to get the hell out of here. I don’t think so, cowboy. Don’t need him wandering around like a loose canon, seeing as how this could be yet another stupid plot to try to kill me.

I look around and grab for the manacles so he’s not as free-range of a chicken. And when I glance back... Angelus writhes at the sight. Head down, hand held out like a good little boy, and eyelashes hiding the hint of a smirk I can tell wants to run rampant across his face. It’s hard not to think of Spike during a moment like that. The perfect sub, back in the day with Angelus. Angelus lived off of routines like the one Lindsey’s serving up, and I can’t help feeling the demon stand up and take note.

Lindsey thinks he’s got me cornered now with this pretty sub act. Either admit I don’t have control and lock him up, or let him wander around like he’s not a prisoner. Not a choice really. Lawyer here can’t be left unattended, and I’m not about to look like I can’t handle whatever he throws at me. So, we’ll just do this together. I can always cuff him to Spike, or a desk later.

“Okay, Lindsey ready to make a day of it? I can’t have you free to wander around and try to kill me, and I can’t have the Senior Partners whisking you away before I’m done with you, so you get one and I get one.” God, he looks like he’s going to throw up. Good. I roughly grab his wrist and click the device closed, and then I maneuver the other end around my own wrist and grunt a little at the tightness. Wolfram and Hart certainly know their bondage.

“Let’s go, Lindsey, my boy.”

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[info]rogue_lawyer
2005-07-14 11:24 pm UTC (link)
We’re going to meet with Hamilton? On second thought, how about I just stay in my cage? It’s not that I’m afraid of him, exactly, but when your first impression of the guy that your girlfriend has been living in fear of for the last couple months is a view from your knees, watching through pain-blurred eyes as he faces down your worst enemy … let’s just say it makes for some interesting classical conditioning. And, okay, maybe a tiny bit of fear.

Angel turns around, shackles in hand, but I don’t get the chance for a snide remark because something in his expression changes. Maybe just a flicker of gold in his eyes, but it’s enough to make me pause. Sometimes I get so caught up in my own little personal quest to drive Angel insane that I forget I’m playing with fire.

Typical. Offer the guy a simple choice, to cuff or not to cuff, and he goes charging down a third path you didn’t even see. I try not to sulk too visibly as he snaps one cuff around my wrist, and the other around his own. You know, I think I had a dream like this once. And by dream, I mean a nightmare. Obviously.

‘His boy’, huh? Chained up like this, I feel a hell of a lot more like his dog. “If you wanted to hold my hand that bad,” I grumble, not looking him in the eyes, “you could’ve just said ‘please’.” Our fingers brush, and the instinctive step I take away from him at the sharp burst of ridiculous want in the pit of my stomach only serves to send me stumbling back into his shoulder when he budges about as far as a brick wall. “Stop being a prick,” I snap, more annoyed at my own body’s rebellion than anything he’s done so far. “Let’s get this done.”

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[info]_keep_me
2005-07-15 04:18 am UTC (link)
“If you wanted to hold my hand that bad you could’ve just said ‘please’.”

Hell. This is it, and I should know. He couldn't possibly have said that. It takes a full five seconds to fight back the urge to say, "please." When our fingers brush it's another five seconds before my brain returns back to my head, and then the little bastard is sneering at me. Way too much anger in this kid, maybe he needs a new outlet. I caught that look though when our fingers touched. Looks like I'm not the only one having control issues.

"Well, aren't we six." I growl as I pull him along down the hall. "I won't hold your fucking hand, if you don't go hip checking me just to cop a feel. You really need to work on those anger management issues, Lindsey. Learn to relax a little. I-It would do you good." Shit. That came out just the way I planned. Right. Maybe he didn't notice.

"Hurry up, I need to make a stop before we meet Hamilton." I say, practically dragging him next to the elevator. Now this is going to be torture. The ride down here was never ending, so going back up there's no way we're going to not be at each other's throats before those doors open again. I smack the button, and try to stand still, but I make the mistake of trying to hold my hands together in front of me like I usually do. Forced to follow my hand, Lindsey's brushes my thigh, and the shock makes me freeze and then immediately snap my hand back to my side. I give him a glare from the side, but he looks like he's going to blow up at me again. Between him and Hamilton, I can't seem to get anyone to shut up these days.

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[info]rogue_lawyer
2005-07-16 05:43 pm UTC (link)
Copping a feel?! God, I hate it when he patronizes me … the fact that he’s about a thousand years older than me aside. “Learn to relax?” I laugh, trying to decide if that little slip up had been all in my head. Freud would have a field day with us. “From you? Face it, hero: your soul is about as permanent as a Post-it … wouldn’t want you relaxing too much on us now.”

He marches off towards the elevators, making me break into a quasi-jog to keep up with him and feeling for all the world like a kid on one of those brat-leashes at the mall. This is beyond humiliating, and it only gets worse when he shifts and my hand is dragged over his hip. What the hell? And now he’s got the nerve to glare at me like that was my fault!

“Thought you didn’t want me copping a feel,” I mutter grumpily, trying to remind myself that I’d rather be here in this godawful situation than back in the cell. “Did you actually want me for information, or is this just your idea of fun?” If I keep talking, I can try to ignore his presence, big and immovable and so close beside me, and try to ignore the way my stupid, traitorous body reacts to him. The fact that I can practically feel the uncomfortable tension coming off him makes me feel a little bit better. Now who needs to relax, huh? “Show us on the dolly where the bad vampire made you touch him…” I quip, pitching my voice high and formally sympathetic.

He’s the genius who thought it would be a kick to chain us together … doesn’t mean I have to behave.

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[info]_keep_me
2005-07-17 04:11 am UTC (link)
“Fun? You think I’d come down here to chat you up for fun? If you think this is me having fun, you must be more hard up for company than I thought. And I’d probably get more information out of you, if you learned when to open your mouth, and when to keep it shut...”

Show us on the dolly where the bad vampire made you touch him…

His words crawl into just the right spot under my skin to make the need to shut that impudent mouth rise to the surface. Picks just the right words to get me riled up every damn time...

The doors choose that moment to open, that moment when I’m wound so tight thought is pretty much a formality. I haul us both inside, grabbing him by his shirtfront and pressing him soundly against the back wall. My hands are gripping his shoulders, leaving his attached hand to dangle between our chests.

“But you wanna play games, Lindsey? Let’s play.” I say, feeling the demon in me flutter across my face, and then cocking my head and running my tongue along my fangs and teeth. “Subtlety’s kinda lost on me.” The heartbeat racing under my hands feels like heaven and I can feel my own blood catching up, but for a very different reason. The taste of fear lands on my tongue and I want a taste. Oh, just a little taste.

“Wanting and doing are two different things, wouldn’t you say, Lindsey?” I say, pushing back the demon and making my face human again; the urge to taste him is still strong in my mouth. And the hair’s breadth of control I’ve got doesn’t keep me from taunting him under my breath. “You haven’t touched anything but that little bitch Eve for months now; I doubt you could handle anything more substantial.”

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[info]rogue_lawyer
2005-07-17 05:31 pm UTC (link)
Apparently, the sound of Angel finally snapping is a musically aesthetic ‘ding!’ Good thing I kept my comment about him “chatting me up” to myself. The elevator sways a bit as Angel shoves me against the wall, getting in my face and letting the demon out to play. He runs his tongue over his fangs as he threatens me, like some kind of porno flick gone to the monsters, and all I can do is pant and glare and pray he doesn’t notice that he’s getting me hard with his undead bad cop routine.

Never said I wasn’t a little bit twisted.

“That the best you got, huh? Making faces at me?” I sneer. I’m going to have bruises in the shape of his fingers striping my shoulders, and I don’t even mind. Bite me, kill me … kiss me, I don’t care … just do something … His features smooth back into a human grimace, and I’ll never tell him that this is the face that frightens me more. The one that just might cause me to lose control.

“You haven’t touched anything but that little bitch Eve for months now; I doubt you could handle anything more substantial.”

My laughter sounds manic, even to my own ears. “You offering? Goddamn overgrown mosquito … you’re all talk. You’ve always been all talk.” Empty threats as he smashes down apartment doors and tosses clients out of nineteenth story windows. Empty apologies as he beats a one-handed guy to the ground and steals his truck. “The only real thing you’ve ever done to me,” I growl through clenched teeth, “was when you cut off my hand.”

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[info]_keep_me
2005-07-17 09:14 pm UTC (link)
I breathe deep, practically licking the air trying to taste his fear in the small space, and I get the faintest smell of arousal. So, the little lawyer isn’t as cool as he wants to be. Remember Darla. He likes ‘em dead.. He smells so good, and that heat so close is calling. The taunting draws me in, but I still try to hold back. There’s a tiny buzz that I think may be whispering, “this is so wrong,” but I can’t seem to care. His smell reels me in almost as well as the way he shoots off his mouth.

“I think you like the way I make faces at you Lindsey. I think you like it...” I take a step closer. “A lot.” The heat radiating off him and that panting he’s doing are the only things registering at this point. His laugh is just a hum and the sneer and snarling are an invitation. “All talk, Lindsey? I think you’ve got that backwards, boy. I’m not much for talking.” I say, perfectly level and low, predatory instincts kicking into high gear.

“You want to feel something real, Lindsey? Feel this.” I let our hips brush together, and the feel of his erection is like a magnet, and I’m kissing him. Hard, just lips, teeth; a frenzy of texture and taste, and then just as soon as it starts there’s a ding. The elevator. It’s waiting for a button to be pushed. Hamilton. What am I doing? I push him away (as far away as possible for us being attached) even though I feel like all the blood in my body is electricity and surging towards my groin. I jab at the number for my office and lean back and let my head fall against the wall. “Fuck,” just sort of slips out.

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[info]rogue_lawyer
2005-07-17 11:01 pm UTC (link)
“You want to feel something real, Lindsey? Feel this.”

Slide of his hips over mine (Oh god, he knows…) and I’m trapped in that funny little moment when you know there’s going to be contact, kissing even, in about a second, and it’s so wrong, and it’s Angel for crying out loud, and goddamn me to hell, but I may have pressed forward, just a little, and then we’re kissing.

And the noise in my brain just stops.

I already knew what this would feel like. He’s shoved me around enough that I know how his body feels, pressed up close and personal against mine. How he can make any hope of escaping a moot point with the force of his hands. The only new sensation is the rough, almost vicious attack of his mouth against mine, and it drive everything over the edge into completely new territory.

Apparently, the sound of Angel coming back to his senses is the same elevator-chime ding. It’s hard to shove someone away from you when you’re chained together, and harder still when aforementioned someone’s stupid hands are clenched around fistfuls of your shirt. I let go of the material like it’s on fire, going slack against the wall and trying not to think. Trying not to breathe.

“Fuck,” comes the quiet sentiment from beside me.

“Pretty much sums it up,” I mumble, forcing myself to stare straight ahead. I won’t look, I won’t look, I won’t glance over to see if he looks just as shell-shocked as I do … oh, good. He does. “That was … new,” I add, trying for nonchalant. If I can gain the upper hand by forcing myself to be cool about this, I’ll be fucking Zen. So goddamn Zen that I’m trembling.

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[info]_keep_me
2005-07-18 02:46 am UTC (link)
I just kissed Lindsey McDonald.

My mind’s still racing, repeating every second on a loop of taste, touch and smell.

*He* leaned into it. *He* grabbed my shirt. Grabbed it so tight and pulled just enough I thought it was going to rip. My brain’s devouring the details, saving them for later even though I just want to forget. I want to remember that this never happened, and not keep going over and over the details so that I can’t forget.

I just kissed Lindsey McDonald.

I am not a teenager who can’t keep his hands to himself. I’ve had a few years to practice a little self-control. Self-denial. I know how to do that. But Lindsey...Fuck. It’s an effort not to run my hands over my face and show just how weird this is. There may be aftershocks running through me still. Hard to tell with Lindsey trembling next to me.

Lindsey’s trembling?

“That was … new.” He says it so casually, I’m having a hard time believing him. What with the trembling and grabbing my shirt and all.

“Mmm,” is all that comes out. A non-committal noise of agreement, maybe. I won’t look at him, but my eyes drift down to where our wrists are cuffed together. Our fingers so close they could be touching if they wanted to. But we don’t want them to. This isn’t how things work with us. The kiss was a fluke.

I straighten my shirt, or try to with Lindsey’s arm flopping around, and pretend to gain some sort of composure. Hamilton doesn’t need to know about this. One more weapon for his arsenal. I look over at Lindsey and he’s rumpled, too. I turn so my back’s to the doors and smooth the fabric across his shoulders briskly but my fingers don’t move as briskly as I’d like, unfortunately. “Don’t want it to look like we haven’t been treating you well, harassing you.” Right. Because Wolfram and Hart cares about how they treat people. And that thought brings me back to Hamilton who’s probably waiting in the office, just looking for a reason to strike.

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[info]rogue_lawyer
2005-07-19 12:56 am UTC (link)
I tense automatically as he jerks my cuffed hand towards him, but it’s only to tug out the wrinkles my fingers have left in his precious shirt. Bastard. My thoughts go hyper-paranoid, and suddenly I’m convinced he did that just to throw me. Never mind the less-than-disgusted hum he made in answer to my remark, or the sideways look he just snuck as I studied the patterns in the carpet. He knew what that would do to me, and he’d done it out of spite. Or something. It’s the only logical explanation.

Not so logical is the way he turns and starts to damn near pet me as he straightens my own shirt. I shoot a startled glance up at him before I can remember why I was looking at the floor to begin with, the ever-intense look on his face making my already racing heart give a thump I’ll bet he can hear. “Don’t want it to look like we haven’t been treating you well, harassing you.”

Words. I can deal with words. They make a hell of a lot more sense than the confusingly nuanced realm of touch. “You’ve been harassing me since I met you,” I point out dryly. Perfectly natural motion to run my tongue over my lower lip, but the taste of his mouth still there brings my sarcasm to a stuttering halt. “And, uh, no sledgehammers, no missing limbs. I think this could be chalked up as a slow day for us.” Gravity returns to a normal state as the elevator slides to a halt, the doors opening with a muted whoosh. Thank Christ. Maybe there’ll actually be some breathing room in the hallway.

“This doesn’t change anything,” I mutter as I’m marched down the hallway towards Angel’s office, “I still hate you, I still know a hell of a lot more about the Senior Partners and the Liaisons than you … and if you sell me out to Hamilton, I’m not lifting a ghostly finger to help your sorry ass out when the contract brings me back. We clear here?” The paranoid state of mind is back with a vengeance, and I can’t help but remember that Judas turned biblical back-stabber with a kiss.

Then again, if I'm Jesus Christ, Angel's the next American Idol.

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[info]_keep_me
2005-07-19 07:06 am UTC (link)
Lindsey is looking at me like I just spat on him. I scowl. Can't take anything at face value. Always has to be a plot with him. I'm practically rolling my eyes when he starts in on how much I've harrassed him, but the flash of his tongue and my mind's crawling back to the kiss, my body ready to do it again. No. He *hates* you and you returned the favor easily enough before.

"I think this could be chalked up as a slow day for us."

"Hmm. Yeah, slow. Guess we'll have to see about that." Wonder what fast would be like. I let out a huff, mostly at myself. As the doors open, I drag him along to my office, taking perfectly normal strides...and thoroughly enjoying making Lindsey work to keep up.

I have my hand on the door knob as he lauches into the requisite threat, and let it open before walking inside.

"Oh, crystal clear, Lindsey, but this conversation isn't over. And don't forget, you're going back to your cell, so there will be another elevator ride to look forward to." I try not to let the smirk escape into an evil grin, but then I'm smelling Wes, and blood, and Hamilton.

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[info]rogue_lawyer
2005-07-20 03:48 am UTC (link)
Continued over yonder...

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