RockStarPeach

***

As soon as Lindsey saw him, he knew he was the one. The one for the next few hours, anyway.

He looked… quietly intense, probably, would have been the best way to describe him, but Lindsey got the feeling that that was either woefully inadequate, or flat out wrong, so he was really having a tough time coming up with a way to peg him. He suspected that once this guy got going, he was anything but quiet, and if he was intense, it was probably only because people reacted to him like he should be.

He looked hard, and no-nonsense, but Lindsey had a feeling that exterior could be easily melted with the right kind of sweet-talk, and just the perfect speed and angle of approach. Then again, maybe not. Maybe he was really kind of dominating in the bedroom. Or the parking lot.

Whatever. That didn’t much matter, because he was hotter than hell, sitting alone at the bar and leaning over his glass of… rum? scotch? apple juice? running his middle finger around the rim like he was pretty damn glad they had this time alone together, and all Lindsey wanted at the moment, was to have that finger trace the same sure line over him.

And he knew his chances were good. Hell, he could count the number of times he’s been turned down on one hand, so he grinned smugly to himself, sauntered over to the bar making sure to sway his hips in just the right way to accentuate the noticeable bulge in his low-slung, faded blue jeans, and sat down on the stool next to his target.

He didn’t plan on wasting his best effort on this one, because he didn’t think he’d need to, and he was tired from a long, stressful day at the office, and honestly couldn’t be bothered with trying to be overly charming. That’s what made this guy so appealing; he didn’t think he’d need to work, and Lindsey wasn’t in the mood for any more work tonight.

“Come here often?”

Wesley rolled his eyes and took another sip of his drink, barely darting a glance at the man who’d just spoken. Oh, he’d noticed him when he first came in to the bar, saw him talking with one man, then another, dancing a few times, and Wesley was surprised that he was still around, that he hadn’t found someone to go home with yet.

The man clearly had no originality, and no talent for conversation, but he suspected that those things weren’t exactly what people looked for when they hooked up with him. And Wesley could tell, just by looking at the man, that he had no shortage of people lined up to find out what he was like in a more intimate setting. Wesley couldn’t help but feel flattered that he seemed to have chosen him, amongst all the crowd, but the fact that Wesley generally liked to be the one doing the choosing, somewhat countered the flattery.

The man was slightly heavier than Wesley’s usual taste, and his hair was a tad too long, and he looked somewhat like he’d tried out to sing back-up for Bon Jovi, and hadn’t quite qualified, but he was undeniably attractive. Almost ridiculously so.

And the few words he’d spoken had been delivered in the sexiest, husky-smooth drawl he’d ever heard. And most importantly, he was pretty.

Pretty in a way that made Wesley want to possess him, own him, made Wesley certain that he wasn’t the first to want that, or accomplish it. No, this man looked like the type that invited dominant types, abusive types, with his lips, and eyes and soft smile. And more than invite them, Wesley had a feeling he encouraged them, had no doubt that he was no stranger to taking orders. Yes, this was someone who got off on being made to do as he was told, if not all the time, and that was something that Wesley could gladly offer. Something that he’d enjoy.

Poor bastard had no idea what he was in for. Wesley almost felt sorry for him. Almost, if he didn’t know that the man would love it.

“… here before,” he blathered. “Most people as hot as you…”

Wesley stood, and the man’s excruciatingly dull attempt at conversation, inane attempt to establish a connection, so they would have an excuse to sneak off somewhere later, faltered slightly.

He paused, didn’t quite frown, smiled again and kept on with whatever he’d been saying, so sure in his seduction that someone getting up to leave in the middle of a conversation didn’t put him off in the least. It was rather impressive. Not that it mattered. Wesley wasn’t listening anyway. He thought the man had introduced himself, but Wesley honestly didn’t care what his name was, and had no intention of giving his own.

“Stop talking,” Wesley said, not loudly, but forceful, short, and the man snapped his mouth shut. Good start, Wesley thought, and hid a smile. He picked up his cup and finished his drink in one swallow, placing the empty tumbler back down on the bar, and tilted his head to raise an eyebrow at his would-be date for the evening.

“Coming?” he asked, not sounding like he cared one or the other what the man would decide, because honestly, he didn’t. There were plenty more around here, and all Wesley cared about was bringing someone home. Someone he could have his own kind of good time with. Whether or not they thought they were willing wasn’t of particular importance.

He turned without waiting for an answer, and started walking toward the door, not bothering to look back to check that he was being followed. He was egotistical enough to know that he was. And aware enough to know that his surety came from arrogance, and not self-confidence.

.

As it turned out, it was well-earned.

***

The guy – Lindsey still hadn’t caught his name – paid the cab driver and led Lindsey into an apartment building that he could only assume was his, and up a flight of stairs, before unlocking a door and walking inside. He stood in the apartment and nodded to Lindsey, giving him permission to come inside, and Lindsey frowned as he did, confused as to why he seemed to be the one that needed permission to do things.

Lindsey had made the first move, had hit on this guy, and it was generally accepted that now he would be the one to call the shots. This guy didn’t seem like he’d gotten that notice, didn’t know that rule, and Lindsey would have blamed it on him not getting out much, and therefore not knowing how things worked, if he didn’t have the very strong suspicion that he got around plenty.

Also, the way he’d looked at Lindsey, the strength in the few words he’d spoken, had shaken Lindsey, had made him want this guy to be in charge. That want didn’t mean they couldn’t share control, though. That was ultimately what Lindsey liked best, trading power back and forth, and so as soon as he walked through the doorway, shutting the door behind him with a flirty smile and touching the tip of his tongue to his top lip, he took two seductive steps toward his new friend, intending to kiss him.

He was stopped short, his head snapping back and his mouth opening in surprise, and not a little pain, while he worked his jaw around, when the guy backhanded him, swift and hard, across the face.

“What the hell?” Lindsey asked, screwing up his face, and then wincing when that only caused the pain to intensify, and his tongue flicked out to lick away the spot of blood that had pooled in the corner of his mouth.

Wesley groaned, just the barest sound, and not for very long, but he groaned all the same, and he was sure the other man had heard it. The brief look of shock on his face, followed by the barely contained outrage was exactly what Wesley had been looking for. And it looked even better on him than Wesley had thought.

Not to mention the appeal of a pale pink tongue licking up the deep crimson splash from between sinfully full lips. God, Wesley’s luck was certainly good tonight. He thought he might even consider saying ‘please’ to get what he wanted, if he had to. He wouldn’t have to, he knew that, but the point was, he would have, and that was saying something about the draw of this man.

“You can leave, if you want,” Wesley said, that same toneless voice he’d used in the bar earlier when he’d asked if the man wanted to come home with him, and stepped forward. The man didn’t back down, but he still looked slightly confused, and trying for offended, but he wasn’t quite pulling off the latter.

Wesley placed a hand on his chest, and he didn’t flinch, didn’t move, and Wesley was impressed again, when he slid his hand downward, slowly, letting his fingers feel the outline of his body beneath his shirt, thick, powerful muscles well defined yet covered in a slight layer of extra padding.

Again, that wasn’t something he typically went for. Wesley usually preferred his partners much more toned, hard as steel and lean. Wesley himself was no slouch; he knew he had a more than decent body, and he was incredibly handsome, but his tastes tended toward those that looked even better than he did without any clothes on.

If this man lost a few pounds, he might even fall into that category, but even so, Wesley wanted him. God, how he wanted him. That didn’t mean he was going to make it easy, let on just how much.

He let his finger dip into the small indent of the man’s belly button, and when he sucked in a reflexive breath, Wesley let his hand drop a few inches, and he smiled, broadly and cruelly, when his palm met a substantial hardness, and his fingers curled around the thick outline of the man’s very interested cock, through his jeans.

“That’s what I thought,” Wesley smirked. Wesley hadn’t suspected a little bit of rough would be enough to turn him off. He suspected he’d had taken, no begged for, a lot more than Wesley planned on giving tonight. Still, it was nice that his forcefulness had come as such a shock. Wesley wasn’t exactly the strongest person, and the element of surprise was his biggest strength in cases like this.

The man just stared at him, apparently caught off guard enough not to know quite what to say. That was fine. Wesley didn’t need him to talk much. In fact, it would probably make this whole thing better. He thought briefly about gagging him, but then he wouldn’t be able to hear him scream, or beg or cry out in reluctant pleasure.

“I’m sorry,” he smiled, politely this time, and completely insincere. “What did you say your name was again?”

“Master,” Lindsey said with a sneer, not even expecting it to fly, but hell, he didn’t have much to lose. He’d play this guy’s bitch for tonight, if that’s what he wanted. As long as Lindsey was getting laid, he didn’t really care what side he was on. He didn’t even mind getting smacked around a little. He got off on it, sometimes, when it was done right. But that wasn’t going to stop him from being a smartass about it. His backtalk had nothing to do with the fact that he was starting to get just a little bit nervous. Nope. “And what should I call you?”

The other man just raised an eyebrow, not angry or threatening, just expecting an answer, as if he could have waited all night right there, and not said another word until he got one. Lindsey shivered a bit, and a tickle ran down his back, goosebumps rising on his skin.

He sighed, and shifted his weight, moving his body back a half step. “Lindsey,” he answered.

“I’m Wesley,” Wesley said simply, with a nod. “And as I said, you’re welcome to leave, but if you stay, you’ll do exactly as I say. Is that understood?”

“I’m not gonna let you hit me,” Lindsey told him, sounding completely serious, a hard edge to his voice like he wasn’t fucking around. And he wasn’t. He didn’t mind things a bit rough, hadn’t ever minded getting pushed and grabbed and forced into position, slammed into a wall, even smacked a little, but he wasn’t going to let this guy actually beat him, and he needed to know that.

Wesley shifted forward, closing the small distance Lindsey had put between them, but he didn’t touch him again. Just breathed, deep and heavy, pleased when the top of Lindsey’s frame pulled back enough to avoid the touch that would have resulted from the swell of Wesley’s chest. He was almost scared. That was good. He had no reason to be, not really, because Wesley wasn’t planning on doing any permanent damage, but it was nice all the same.

“You’ll not be in a position to let me do anything, Lindsey,” he said. “I’ll do what I like, take what I like, and I won’t pay particular attention to anything you have to say on the matter. You can try to stop me. Hell, that might even make it fun. But we will do things my way.” Wesley paused for a moment, his eyes fixing onto Lindsey’s, and Lindsey glared back, eyes narrowing slightly. “Or… you’re welcome to leave now. No hard feelings. It’s not too late for either of us to find some other entertainment for the evening.”

What the fuck kind of a stupid thing was that for Wesley to say? Had he seen himself? Lindsey wasn’t fucking going anywhere, and they both knew that.

He let his eyes drift shut briefly in resignation, flush of nervous excitement creeping across his neck and cheeks at the possibilities of what might happen. As he was blinking them open again, still looking vaguely in Wesley’s direction, he managed to catch sight of a blur of arm, and the glint of happy, white teeth, before Wesley’s knuckles connected harder than Lindsey would have thought possible with his temple, and the world faded to black.

***

Ten minutes later, Lindsey woke to a dull ache across one entire side of his head, and he could feel the swelling start up along his cheek and under his eye. Shit. That was going to mark pretty badly.

The cut from the backhand earlier had almost healed, was no longer bleeding, but it still stung slightly when he opened his mouth a few times, to test it out, and check if anything seemed to be broken. He moved the rest of his body, shoulders, arms, legs, and everything seemed to be in working order, no other injuries except for the two hits he’d been conscious for, and that was good news.

Of course, he seemed to be handcuffed, his wrists tied together behind his back, and he was propped up on his knees, his back resting against what was probably a wall, though he couldn’t be sure until he opened his eyes.

And when he did, Wesley was there, staring at his chest and licking his lips. Lindsey blinked, and groaned, and Wesley’s eyes snapped up to his, and he smiled.

“Lindsey,” he said. “Good, you’re up.” He lifted one of his hands to show off the small pocket knife he was holding, and he laughed, an honest, hearty sound, straight from his belly, when Lindsey jerked back, panic in his eyes.

“Oh, relax, Lindsey,” he told him. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He grinned again and looked down at the knife. “Not with this, anyway. This is just to make things a little easier.”

He had already unfastened Lindsey’s button-up shirt, spreading it open across his chest, and with a deep intake of breath, shaky from lust and wanting, he slipped the knife under Lindsey’s tee. He pulled the bottom taught with his other hand, and slowly slid the knife up, cutting through the soft fabric, all the way to the top.

When he was finished he bent forward, pressing his lips to Lindsey’s skin, open-mouthed, and let his tongue glide over the salty expanse, sucking in a breath as Lindsey did. Oh yes, Lindsey was loving this almost as much as Wesley was, and he could feel the man’s heart beating rapidly under his ribcage while he licked up and over, closing his teeth in a sharp bite over Lindsey’s nipple.

“Fuck!” Lindsey gasped, hips jerking forward of their own volition, cock trying desperately to seek out contact that Wesley denied, pulling back with a chuckle.

“So greedy, Lindsey,” he scolded, mock-frowning. “I told you, this will all be done my way. You don’t get any say. Maybe I’ll touch you,” he said, hand reaching out so that two delicate fingertips trailed softly over his crotch. “Maybe I won’t,” he continued, and took his hand back, abruptly standing up. “It’s all up to me.”

Lindsey grunted and pulled ineffectually at his bound wrists, making a show of struggling. He knew he wasn’t going anywhere, not until Wesley wanted him to, but he’d dealt with guys like this before. They got off on the power, the being in charge, the making someone who would ordinarily seem so strong and sure, do whatever he wanted them to do.

Hell Lindsey got off on it too, and he knew the quickest and easiest way to get what he wanted out of this, was to go along with it. Granted, Wesley seemed a little more into this than most, a little more extreme, but that only added an element of excitement that Lindsey didn’t often experience.

“Yeah,” Lindsey agreed, breathing heavily, both because he was almost impossibly aroused, and because he was trying to put on a good show. “Up to you.”

Wesley stared down at him, not entirely sure that Lindsey was being sincere, not sure he truly understood what that meant, and so he held his eyes when Lindsey offered a come hither smile, cocking his in a move that had Wesley’s cock hardening even further, and brought up his knee to connect with a solid *thump* into Lindsey’s sternum.

Lindsey doubled over in pain, winded from the blow, and he spent a good thirty seconds gasping for breath, before he managed to pull himself up. He tried for another smile, though now he was feeling a little less turned on, and a little more like shit, but that was okay. Lindsey had been through this before, and they were almost at the good part.

He wasn’t upright for more than a few heartbeats before Wesley’s foot landed square in the middle of his stomach, and he let out a harsh *oomph* and folded in on himself as best he could with his hands behind his back. He looked up, wincing, and Wesley was just staring down at him, face passive, as if he was evaluating him somehow.

Lindsey got the distinct impression that he was failing the evaluation, and he felt a heavy knot in his stomach that had nothing to do with the devastating kick.

“Jesus,” Lindsey coughed, still fighting for breath, shaking his head, and that made Wesley smile. “What the fuck?!”

“You agreed that I could do what I wanted, Lindsey,” Wesley told him. “Not that I’d care if you asked me to stop at this point. You agreed to it when you decided to stay.”

“You mean when you knocked me out with a sucker punch, and didn’t give me the chance to decide for myself?”

“Cute,” Wesley said, but he didn’t look amused. “I’m doing what I want. I want to see you hurt. I want to see you bleed. I might even want to see you cry. And I want to see all that, before I see your pretty, pretty lips wrapped nice and tight around my cock.”

“Oh, I’ll blow you, baby, if that’s what you want,” Lindsey told him, cocky smirk coming back despite his obvious pain, and Wesley had to suck in a deep breath as arousal washed over him. Oh, Lindsey was delightful. “You don’t have to force me.”

“No,” Wesley agreed, nodding once. “No, I wouldn’t suspect so. Still, it’s much more fun that way. Besides, I’ll enjoy it much, much more when the face I’m fucking is battered and bloody. Especially since it’s one so pretty.”

A chill pulsed through Lindsey’s body, coldness slipping through his veins, starting in his heart and spreading quickly. Shit. He honestly hadn’t expected this, even noticing the dark edge Wesley clearly had. And there really wasn’t much he could do about it at this point. He figured he’d have no problem taking Wesley in a fight, but his hands were cuffed, and he’d already taken four pretty hard hits, and there was no way he was going to get anywhere if he tried to use force.

His best bet was to go along with whatever Wesley wanted, and his stupid jack-ass traitor of a cock seemed to agree, because he was still fucking hard. This was turning out to be a much better, and much worse night than he’d thought.

“Yeah, but wouldn’t I look better if you let me go?” Lindsey asked, figuring he had to try. “Look better touching you all over, maybe lying on my stomach, pushing my shoulders up while you fuck me from behind?”

“Perhaps if you were a couple of sizes smaller,” Wesley shot, knowing that he hit a nerve when Lindsey flinched slightly. He didn’t mean it of course. From what he’d seen so far, Lindsey looked amazing, despite the extra couple of pounds. “As it is, I have no desire to see you naked.”

“Fucking dick!” Lindsey snarled. “You’re one to talk, asshole. Fucking skinny little shit!”

“Lindsey,” Wesley sighed, and shook his head reproachfully. “Don’t make me gag you. On second thought,” he continued, tilting his head in consideration. “That might be a good idea. I didn’t exactly take you home for the sparkling conversation.”

“Asshole,” Lindsey grumbled, but kept it quieter this time. He really didn’t want to be gagged, on top of bound, not by this prick, and fuck if his dick didn’t get just a little bit harder at the suggestion.

“Mm,” Wesley vaguely agreed, because he was an asshole, when he wanted to be, and right now, he very much did. “But I’m the asshole that currently controls your pain and your pleasure.”

“Not too much fucking pleasure so far,” Lindsey said.

Wesley raised an eyebrow and looked down at the very noticeable bulge in Lindsey’s pants, even bigger than before. “No?” he asked, lips curving at the corner of his mouth, humour in his voice.

“Fuck you,” Lindsey said, but he knew he couldn’t really protest. Wesley had barely touched him sexually, but this whole thing was turning him on something crazy.

“Wow, you’re just full of witty repartee, aren’t you?”

This time, Lindsey kept his mouth shut, and Wesley found that as good an opportunity as any to hit him again. Another smack to Lindsey’s face, open palm hitting loud and sharp against his cheek. Another punch, Wesley’s left hand this time, to Lindsey’s jaw, reopening the first cut.

Lindsey groaned, and cursed, and tried to pull his head away, and that only turned Wesley on even more, and the small trickles of blood from his lips and his eye, even one very short, very deep scratch across his cheek from one of Wesley’s nails, made it almost impossible for Wesley not to push Lindsey down and fuck him so hard he wouldn’t be able to walk straight for a week.

Wesley and Lindsey both lost count of the number of blows, and exactly where they landed. They didn’t fall in quick succession, just the opposite. Wesley took his time in between, caressed Lindsey’s skin and watched it start to turn dark, purple and red and blue, as the blood vessels broke and the blood spread out under the surface.

He touched him with just enough softness, just enough seeming care and for just long enough, to lull Lindsey into thinking that that was all, and when Wesley felt the tension drain, his shoulders fall, and his chest relax when he thought that this time, Wesley was going to change it up and make it better, he’d hit him again.

By the time he was finished Lindsey’s left eye was swollen, both his cheeks, as well as his chest and stomach, bruised, deep colours that made Wesley need, and his lips were puffy, cracked, and leaking blood.

He was bloody glorious.

And Lindsey wasn’t hard anymore, thank God, and he wasn’t fucking crying. So mister badass dom son of a bitch could just stuff it.

Wesley stared down at Lindsey for a moment, drinking in the beautiful sight, pain and hurt and submission all laid out before him, and all completely his, and he slid his hand around to the back of Lindsey’s head. Lindsey jerked, and Wesley cooed, rubbing his fingers soothingly over the base of his skull, pressure steady and reassuring, like a massage.

”Shhh,” he said. “I’m done now, Lindsey.”

Lindsey blinked, as well as he could with one eye almost swollen shut now, and snarled.

“No more hitting, I promise. And believe it or not,” Wesley said, and Lindsey flinched again, because he actually sounded genuine, and that scared the shit out of him. “I didn’t enjoy hurting you. I did it because you look good like this, and I knew you would. So fucking good, Lindsey.” Wesley’s voice dropped to almost a whisper, and his hand slid forward, thumb stroking gently over the bruises along Lindsey’s jaw. “So fucking pretty.”

Lindsey almost felt tears in his eyes at that, and he couldn’t have said why, because hearing that shouldn’t have upset him any more than being beat to a fucking pulp. No, it didn’t make him feel bad, it made him feel good, hearing that Wesley thought he looked good like this made him feel good, and that, that was what made him not quite cry.

Wesley took his hand back and made quick work of his pants, opening them enough pull his aching erection out, but remained otherwise fully clothed. He held his cock in one hand, and placed the other again at the back of Lindsey’s head, fingers threading through his too-long hair, grabbing hold, and using the grip to manoeuvre him. It was incredibly easy, because Lindsey wasn’t fighting anymore, and while Wesley sort of missed the slight struggle, it was also nice to know that he’d given in.

It was about damn time. It usually took a lot less than what he’d done. And Lindsey had known from the start that he wanted this, which wasn’t always true of Wesley’s dates. Lindsey was damn impressive.

“Open wide, pretty,” was the only warning Wesley gave, and Lindsey did, taking Wesley’s cock past his lips and down his throat in one swift push.

Wesley didn’t take his time, wasn’t in the mood, just thrust, over and over, hard, cock dragging along Lindsey’s lips, splitting open the drying cracks, smearing blood over them again. He traced his fingers over the mottled bruises on Lindsey’s face, fingertips mapping out every imperfection in near reverence, pushing much too hard every now and then, making Lindsey cry out around him, close his eyes, try to jerk away.

He held him fast with the hand in his hair, didn’t let him go anywhere, and a mere few seconds after each burst of pain, Lindsey swallowed, sucked him down hard, tongue pressing up against the underside of Wesley’s cock, and they both moaned.

Wesley was almost disappointed when he found himself nearing completion, because this had been one of the best blow jobs he’d ever experienced, and mostly because the view was honestly and truly the most spectacular thing he’d ever witnessed. Still he didn’t hold back, just gripped Lindsey’s hair tighter, thrust in harder, jerking once, twice, deep in Lindsey’s throat, spilling his seen on a silent cry, body going still as pleasure wracked him.

He stayed where he was for as long as he possibly could, getting that extra little bit of pleasure out of the whole thing when Lindsey started to choke, lack of oxygen making him sputter and gasp, spit Wesley out, tiny drops of cum spilling out of the corners of his mouth, mixing with blood to turn pink.

And Lindsey was crying. Perhaps just from the choking, tears instinctive and uncontrollable, but it didn’t take away from the beauty of it.

Wesley breathed several heavy breaths, hands cupping Lindsey’s face, truly gentle this time, no attempt to hurt, or humiliate.

“Gorgeous,” he told him, voice no more than the air that passed through his lungs. “Thank you.”

Lindsey would have told him to go fuck himself, if he thought he was capable of much beyond wheezing at the moment, but he didn’t even get the chance to try, because suddenly he was being grabbed by the shoulders, hauled around roughly and pushed down, so that he was sitting on his feet, knees bent and legs spread.

Wesley crouched down behind him, hands skidding over the tender flesh of his front, and down, opening the button on his jeans with a practiced flick, and Lindsey made a piteous sort of sound, low in his throat, and his face turned a deep shade of red that he hoped Wesley didn’t notice, when the other man reached inside and found him hard as a fucking rock.

He was stupidly thankful that Wesley didn’t make fun of him for it, but embarrassed as hell, because he actually seemed like he’d been expecting it, and Wesley’s fingers closed around him, jerking him furiously, while he whispered in his ear, random, dirty insults, masquerading as compliments, until Lindsey came, shouting out in as much pain as pleasure, when Wesley timed his orgasm with a tight grab to his agonised chin.

“Gorgeous,” Wesley said once more, once Lindsey had finished, because he was. So bloody gorgeous, the way he bruised and bled and cried for pleasure and pain. Wesley could get used to this, used to him. He’d have to be careful though, because something about Lindsey screamed ‘bad news’ and if Wesley wanted to do this he knew he’d have to be careful, because Lindsey would turn the tables on him in a flash, given the chance. So Wesley would have to make sure he never gave him that chance.

Wesley kissed him, turned his head with two fingers, and kissed him full on the mouth for the first time, his own lips resting lightly over Lindsey’s, opening just enough to give him space to lick off the remnants of blood and semen, and it was delicious.

He pulled back as soon as Lindsey started to return the kiss, and fished in his pocket for the key, and unlocked the cuffs.

Lindsey jerked his arms forward, rubbed his hands over his wrists to sooth out the raw flesh from all the pulling, and he shot Wesley a scathing look when he placed another chaste kiss to his temple, before standing up, and tossing Lindsey a spare shirt from his dresser drawer.

“Sorry about yours,” Wesley said, smirking. “You’d better put that on. Wouldn’t want you to get arrested on your way home.”

Lindsey nodded a sarcastic thanks, but did as Wesley suggested. It wasn’t like he had much of a choice, and he was fucking pissed off. Pissed off, because he had to work tomorrow morning, had to be in fucking court a ten o fucking clock, and he looked like he’d just gone five rounds with a Mack truck, and he was sore, and bleeding, and he’d just swallowed some stranger’s cum, who apparently thought it was good practice to go around having unsafe sex, and licking the blood off his partners’ faces.

He felt dirty, and awful, and he was going to have to get tested for every fucking sexually transmitted disease out there, and he’d loved just about every fucking second of tonight.

He stood up and tucked himself back in, made his wobbly way across the living room, and turned down Wesley’s really fucking generous offer of an ice pack in favour of getting the hell out of there as soon as he could.

“We’ll have to do this again, Lindsey,” Wesley said when Lindsey opened the door to leave, wrapping an arm around his body to hold the door half open and stop Lindsey from slipping out. “I rather enjoyed myself.”

“Fuck you,” Lindsey spat, voice hoarse from the shouting and crying and having a cock shoved down his throat. Shit, he was going to need to do something about that by tomorrow morning. No judge was going to rule in his client’s favour if he sounded like the ten dollar whore in a football team’s drunken gang bang.

He wrenched the door open as hard as he could, taking a small measure of pride in the fact that Wesley backed off, and let him leave, and he shot Wesley one last withering glance before he walked away.

Not that it did any good. He hadn’t fooled either of them.

They both knew he’d be back.

END