So, Snow, this one's for you, I hope you like it.
Lindsey eyed the dregs of his beer and tried to decide what to do. He didn't really want to go home to his empty apartment, but two beers were pretty much his limit on a work night. He shifted on the cracked vinyl barstool and stifled a groan; his ribs were still sore. As much as last week's altercation with Angel still rankled, other concerns had moved to the top of the list. Fucking Lilah. Gavelston had been his client. Then she swooped in, saying there'd been an emergency change of plans and she'd already procured a passport, untraceable bearer bonds and passage out of the country. With Holland dead, everyone was scrambling to look good. He didn't need Lilah backstabbing him.
The bar was a small hole-in-the-wall joint. Not overly run down, just not the kind of place a hotshot lawyer from Wolfram and Hart would be caught dead in. Which was precisely the appeal for Lindsey: no chance of running into any colleagues.
He picked up the mug to drain it when he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder. A cool hand.
"Lindsey." Angel's smile didn't extend to his eyes. "Not leaving, are you?" he asked sliding onto the seat next to him. He set a brown paper bag down on the counter and called out, "Two more of the same," pointing to Lindsey's empty glass.
"Thanks, but I think I'd better be heading out."
"What's the rush? I'm willing to let bygones be bygones." He pointed to the freshly poured beer. "Look at this as a chance to start over."
Lindsey didn't know what sort of a game Angel was playing and took a moment to weigh his options. Angel couldn't exactly pull anything in a crowded barroom full of customers. Maybe Lindsey could find out something useful that would put him on top in the ever-dangerous world of W&H political maneuvering. He stared at his prosthetic hand and thought that maybe he'd just get lucky instead - stake Angel and be done with it.
Angel saw where Lindsey's gaze had landed. "You're not still upset about me smashing your fake hand, are you? After all, you did go after me with a sledgehammer. I just think we should move forward." He took a large mouthful of beer. "Come on, drink up."
Lindsey sipped cautiously. "What's in the bag?"
Angel face slipped back into its customary stone mask. "Nothing of interest."
"Angel, I thought we were going to be upfront with each other. I guess I can't expect your kind to really change."
Angel scowled briefly. "Fine, " he said, shoving the bag over.
Lindsey was so shocked by Angel's easy acquiescence that for a moment he didn't do anything. Finally grabbing the bag, he peered within and bit back a laugh. Some sort of expensive facial cream, chocolate bars, nail polish, various other sundry items. "So it's true then."
"Angel Investigations is back together, but you're not exactly in charge. Running Cordelia's errands, are we? Have you been making the morning coffee? Picking up Wes' clothes from the cleaners?"
Angel looked at him, eyes narrowed. "You don't know the first thing about power, do you, Linds?"
"I'm co-head of one of the most powerful departments in one of the most powerful firms in this city while you do filing and typing." As he stated the words, Lindsey realized with a start that they were absolutely true. He was in charge. Angel was nothing. "Another round."
"You buying this time? After all, you're the well-paid lawyer."
"Sure." Lindsey felt unexpectedly expansive and knocked back half the beer in a single move. Ten minutes later he stood, the alcohol warm in his gut. He swayed a tiny bit; four beers on an empty stomach wasn't his usual.
"You're in no condition to drive."
Lindsey stared at Angel; he hadn't realized that he'd been followed out. "I'm fine," he slurred slightly. "Don't worry."
"I insist." Angel's large hand easily encircled Lindsey's wrist and he dragged the much smaller man over to his convertible. "Get in." The car took off and they were moving.
"This isn't the way to my place." Angel gave a non-committal grunt. For the first time, a frission of fear traveled down Lindsey's spine. The car glided deeper into the less desirable parts of L.A., finally coming to a stop in front of a long-abandoned warehouse.
"What the fuck? I'm not getting out of the car."
Angel's dark eyes seemed to glitter. "Don't think you have a choice here. Just think of it as a little sightseeing trip." He hauled Lindsey out the car with one hand, easily carrying his sack of appeasements for Cordelia with the other.
The warehouse was completely empty except for dust and oil stains on the floor, a single large room illuminated by a few bare bulbs. Angel had set the bag down by his feet. His grip on Lindsey's shoulder ensured that Lindsey couldn't bolt. "Familiar at all," he breathed into Lindsey's ear.
"It's an empty room, asshole."
Angel actually smiled at that. "Wasn't a few days ago. Filled with demons. Two people already sacrificed, a third on her way when I arrived. Broke up the party. You know how it goes. Turns out it was being done as a power boost for some guy by the name of Gavelston. Hear that you're familiar with him. Something about him being a client of yours. And now he seems to have skipped town. Pity."
Shit. "I had no idea what that creep was into, Angel. I mean it."
"Funny thing is, Lindsey, I believe you. I also believe if you had known, it wouldn't have made any difference." He reached down and grabbed Lindsey's good hand and locked it into a cuff that had been suspended from the ceiling. He swiftly did the same with Lindsey's other arm, taking care to ensure that it was Lindsey's stump that was chained and not the fake hand. "When I got here, the girl was chained up, same as you. Just a few cuts, nothing too serious." Angel paused, his shoulders hunching a bit as if he was weighted down. "She hasn't talked since. Catatonic. Doctors don't know if she'll ever be ok."
Lindsey's mouth had gone so dry that his voice was a rasp. "None of that was my fault."
"Afraid I'll do unto others? I thought that's what your big bosses want," Angel said calmly. "Let out my inner Angelus." He started to take a step toward Lindsey but noticed his thigh muscle tensing. "Don't even think of kicking me. I'll bust your kneecap. Make a nice set to go with that missing hand." He faced him and unknotted Lindsey's tie and slowly pulled it through the collar. He could hear Lindsey's heart fluttering like a wounded animal's.
"We're at a bit of an impasse here." Angel sounded vaguely amused by his statement, as if the two of them were at an office party and he had just told Lindsey a somewhat off-color joke. "If I kill you, I'm not sure how much good that will do me, other than getting your annoying ass out of my life. I suspect your superiors at Wolfram and Hart don't give that much of a damn about you, so it's not going to send them much of a message. It's not like I have the tools of the trade here to even make it interesting." He pulled a knife out of a hidden pocket in his coat. Lindsey's eyes opened wide. "I mean I could use this," Angel flipped the knife into the air and easily caught it by the handle, "But been there, done that about a million times. Gets old. So I'm thinking a different direction."
Angel quickly unbuttoned Lindsey's dress shirt. Opening one of the cuffs, he grabbed Lindsey's arm and pushed both the shirt and suit jacket off, then quickly recuffed him. He repeated the motion with the other arm, leaving Lindsey nude from the waist up. Lindsey's flesh quickly pebbled in the cool night air and he shivered slightly.
Stepping forward again, he efficiently opened Lindsey's suit pants and then pushed it and the boxers underneath down to his ankles. Angel could see panic start to blossom in Lindsey's eyes, his cheek twitch ever so slightly.
Bending down, he rummaged through the pharmacy bag. He opened the jar of skin cream he had bought for Cordy. Undoing his fly and shoving his boxers down just enough, he began coating his cock with the cool, thick cream. At thirty-five dollars an ounce, this stuff was way overpriced for lube. He examined the jar for a second and smirked at its "amazing skin softening properties." He was going to be putting the lie to that one, as his hand worked his flesh a bit harder, a bit faster.
Until this point, Lindsey had been nervous. Now Angel could smell the terror rolling off of him.
"Don't rape me." Lindsey could barely croak the words out.
Angel hadn't committed that particular act in close to a century, but it didn't mean he didn't remember exactly how it felt. The paralyzing fear of the victim. Taking what he wanted without consequences. The rush of absolute power over someone else. His voice was soft. "I'm one of the good guys, Lindsey. We don't do that sort of thing."
He crossed the floor and stood behind Lindsey, letting his gaze linger for a moment. Lindsey obviously worked out (probably at some overpriced yuppie hangout) and it showed. He stepping in closer and made a slow circle on the sensitive skin right behind Lindsey's balls.
Lindsey attempted to jerk away. "I thought you weren't going to rape me, you fucking freak." His breathing was quick and shallow.
Angel pressed a little harder on the spot, occasionally lightly stroking the underside of Lindsey's balls. "I'm not going to rape you, " he whispered. "I'm going to make you beg for it." He continued to tease until Lindsey shuddered against him. He moved his hand up, the finger tracing along the valley of Lindsey's body, stopping to play with the tiny hole, moving back and forth, ghosting along the flesh. A drop of sweat traced down Lindsey's back and this time when Angel reached that perfect circle, he pushed the tip of his finger in and Lindsey flinched and moaned.
Angel's finger began to move in and out, while his other hand continually touched other places, leaving wisps of sensation behind. Then two fingers in, twisting and turning as Lindsey pushed back, trying to force them in deeper. "God, God."
"Not God." His voice was dark and dangerous. "He's never going to make you feel this good."
Lindsey's cock was before him now, jutting from his body, the head almost Indian red. "What do you want, Lindsey?"
"You want my cock, Linds?" He slowly pushed in, Lindsey's moans making him harder.
Rape was easy, but this was artistry. Nothing was as good as hearing someone who hated you beg you to fuck them. It had been a long time since Angel had done this, but nothing else gave the same rush. He twisted his hips, pulled out almost all the way, ran his hands up and down that firm ass in front of him until Lindsey was mindless, fucking himself on Angel's cock, practically crying that he needed to be touched.
It was with practiced ease that Angel ran his hands back and forth over Lindsey's shaft, palmed the smooth head, knew the exact moment that Lindsey was going to come and planned his final deep thrust in concert with it. The only sound was Lindsey's labored breathing and the little noises that were still escaping from deep inside his chest.
Angel pulled out without any gentleness and stalked over to Lindsey's dress shirt. He used it to wipe off the obvious traces and then readjusted his pants, picking up the brown bag. He turned to look at Lindsey, hanging a bit more heavily from the chains. His chest was sweat slicked and his ass was leaking Angel's come.
He stood next to Lindsey, stooping down until his mouth was level with his ear. "You wear the three thousand dollar suits and you have the corner office. But in the end you'll never have any real power because you're always going to get fucked up the ass."
At the door to the warehouse, Angel spoke. "When I get back to the Hyperion, I'll call and let your secretary know where she can find you."
He walked out into the night, leaving Lindsey behind.