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allyndraTitle: Opening Negotiations
Author: Allyndra
Pairing: Lindsey/Riley
Spoilers: Mid-season 5 of Buffy, end of season 2 of Angel.
Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me, which is probably for the best, because I'd likely never get my damage deposit back if they were mine.
Rating: FRM
Summary: When Riley went into the bar, he wasn't looking to pick up a human.
Note: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ashcarpenter in the Minor Characters round of ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
maleslashminis. The request was for Lindsey/Riley, some angst, and a bittersweet ending.
The thing about Sunnydale was, it was crawling with vampires. Riley could drop onto a barstool at any bar in town and, nine times out of ten, there would be a vampire at his elbow, smirking an invitation before he finished his first beer.
Not tonight.
No, the smirk was there, knowing and cool and stretched across a handsome face, but the man who had settled onto the stool next to Riley's and leaned into his personal space was no vampire. Riley's body didn't react to him with the now-familiar surge of revulsion and anticipation, so he dismissed the man with a glance. Human.
The man either didn't read the disinterest in Riley's posture, or he just didn't care, because he leaned even closer, so they were touching all down Riley's right side, from shoulder to hip. "Can I buy you a drink?" he asked. He was still smirking, his eyes lit with amusement like this was his favorite game.
Riley didn't want to play. He gave the man another glance, letting his eyes go cold and impersonal to get the point across. "No offense, but you're no my type."
The man nodded. "I am missing a little something," he said, cupping his hands in front of his chest. "Or maybe it's what I'm missing here that matters." He smiled, broad and knowing, and tapped a canine with one long finger.
Riley's face went pale so fast it made him light-headed, and he was reaching for his wallet before he'd even recovered from the head rush. "Whatever, man," he said, dropping a ten onto the bar. "I hope you find what you're looking for."
He walked out of the bar with his hands in his pockets, his blood pounding in his ears. The guy was jus just talking out of his ass. He didn't know anything.
Riley was halfway down the block when a voice behind him called out, "I already found what I'm looking for."
He spun around to glare at the man from the bar. He let the man catch up, not because he wanted to hear what he had to say, but because it let him use his height more intimidatingly. "I told you," he bit out, "You're not my type."
"Oh, I think I am," the man says, rocking back on his heels to look up at Riley, as if the height difference didn't bother him at all. "Your type is dangerous and strong, but something you can look down on and despise." His lips twisted, but it looked nothing like a smile. "I think I'm exactly your type. Riley Finn."
He said Riley's name like it was an afterthought, but Riley knew it was planned, timed and aimed as carefully as a blow.
"Who are you?" Riley demanded.
"Lindsey McDonald. I have a proposition for you." He said it smoothly, the bitterness gone from his face and voice, and Riley more than half-expected to be offered his hand to shake. When it didn't come, he glanced down and the stiff, artificial set of Lindsey's hand told him why.
"I work at the law offices of Wolfram & Hart," Lindsey said. "My employers would like to offer you a position."
Riley folded his arms over his chest. "I'm not a lawyer."
"I know." Lindsey's voice was smooth, but Riley wasn't fooled. When he was a kid in Iowa, the cornfields always looked smooth after they got plowed, too. But if he went out walking in them, they were full of ruts and clods, waiting to trip him up, and prickly with the jagged remains of last year’s crop. He knew, with a certainty that startled him, that this man was just as full of traps and dangers.
"I'm not looking for a lawyer," Lindsey went on. "Frankly, we're already bursting with promising new applicants who are all far more qualified than you. No, what I'm looking for is a man with your ... skills. Weapons expertise, extraction, experience in combat with many known demon species." He paused and smiled. "And of course, there's your specialized knowledge."
Riley sneered. "I'm not telling you anything." He didn't even need to ask if they wanted information about the military or about Buffy, the answer was no either way.
"No," Lindsey said agreeably. "You're not." He stepped closer, and suddenly he was pressed up against Riley, warm and firm. "I'll tell you, though."
Riley's instincts were shot to hell. He knew this was a threat, knew he should fight, but the adrenaline from danger set off a whole different set of responses these days. He forced himself to take a step back, and found himself pressed back against a wall.
"You love the Slayer," Lindsey said matter-of-factly. "I've seen pictures; I don't blame you. So you feel like you need to be good enough for her. Strong enough for her. But you're not. Never will be. And you know she'll measure you against a yardstick in her head and find you wanting. A yardstick named Angel." Lindsey's face was so close that Riley could feel Lindsey's lips curl in a bitter grimace when he said the name.
"You knew you weren't good enough, so you thought maybe you could be bad enough," he whispered, hot breath in Riley's ear. "You weren't supposed to like it."
Lindsey's lips ghosted over Riley's neck, and he shuddered. When Lindsey's teeth followed the same path, Riley closed his eyes and let his head drop back against the wall.
He wanted.
Lindsey bit a sucking kiss, right at the edge of Riley's collar. "You weren't supposed to need it. But now you do. Even when you're in her bed, listening to her breath, you think about others. Vampires, who disgust you, who bite you with their dead mouths and make you feel alive."
Lindsey's hand, the real one, was pressed to Riley's heart, and Riley flushed at the knowledge that he could feel it hammering. The hand slid down, slowly, slowly until it was right over his dick, hard and aching and just as humiliating as his heartbeat.
Lindsey stroked Riley's erection through his pants, firm pressure that made Riley want to groan. "You don't have to tell me anything, Riley," Lindsey said. His voice was soft and confiding, and Riley was reminded of the time he went out to a plowed field after a rain. He'd sunk right up to his boot tops, and he hadn't been able to pull free without leaving his boots behind.
"You don't have to tell me anything," he repeated. "I already know." And he bit, hard and fast, while stroking Riley's dick exactly the same way, and that was all it took. He was quaking and coming and holding onto the wall to stay upright.
When he opened his eyes, Lindsey was smiling at him, polite and distant, like Riley was a business acquaintance whose name he wasn't quite sure of. It made Riley go cold inside.
"Think about our offer," Lindsey said, tucking a business card inside Riley's pocket, where it shoved unpleasantly at his dick, making him aware of the mess in his boxers. He took a step back and gave Riley a surveying look from his feet to his head. "You might want to get inside," he said, his voice pleasant but still cool. "Not everything that goes bump in the night wants to make a deal."
And he walked away, leaving Riley standing against the wall, weak in the knees and knowing, finally and certainly, that he was weak in his heart as well.
He dragged the card out of his pocket and clutched it all the way home.
Author: Allyndra
Pairing: Lindsey/Riley
Spoilers: Mid-season 5 of Buffy, end of season 2 of Angel.
Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me, which is probably for the best, because I'd likely never get my damage deposit back if they were mine.
Rating: FRM
Summary: When Riley went into the bar, he wasn't looking to pick up a human.
Note: For
ashcarpenter in the Minor Characters round of maleslashminis. The request was for Lindsey/Riley, some angst, and a bittersweet ending.The thing about Sunnydale was, it was crawling with vampires. Riley could drop onto a barstool at any bar in town and, nine times out of ten, there would be a vampire at his elbow, smirking an invitation before he finished his first beer.
Not tonight.
No, the smirk was there, knowing and cool and stretched across a handsome face, but the man who had settled onto the stool next to Riley's and leaned into his personal space was no vampire. Riley's body didn't react to him with the now-familiar surge of revulsion and anticipation, so he dismissed the man with a glance. Human.
The man either didn't read the disinterest in Riley's posture, or he just didn't care, because he leaned even closer, so they were touching all down Riley's right side, from shoulder to hip. "Can I buy you a drink?" he asked. He was still smirking, his eyes lit with amusement like this was his favorite game.
Riley didn't want to play. He gave the man another glance, letting his eyes go cold and impersonal to get the point across. "No offense, but you're no my type."
The man nodded. "I am missing a little something," he said, cupping his hands in front of his chest. "Or maybe it's what I'm missing here that matters." He smiled, broad and knowing, and tapped a canine with one long finger.
Riley's face went pale so fast it made him light-headed, and he was reaching for his wallet before he'd even recovered from the head rush. "Whatever, man," he said, dropping a ten onto the bar. "I hope you find what you're looking for."
He walked out of the bar with his hands in his pockets, his blood pounding in his ears. The guy was jus just talking out of his ass. He didn't know anything.
Riley was halfway down the block when a voice behind him called out, "I already found what I'm looking for."
He spun around to glare at the man from the bar. He let the man catch up, not because he wanted to hear what he had to say, but because it let him use his height more intimidatingly. "I told you," he bit out, "You're not my type."
"Oh, I think I am," the man says, rocking back on his heels to look up at Riley, as if the height difference didn't bother him at all. "Your type is dangerous and strong, but something you can look down on and despise." His lips twisted, but it looked nothing like a smile. "I think I'm exactly your type. Riley Finn."
He said Riley's name like it was an afterthought, but Riley knew it was planned, timed and aimed as carefully as a blow.
"Who are you?" Riley demanded.
"Lindsey McDonald. I have a proposition for you." He said it smoothly, the bitterness gone from his face and voice, and Riley more than half-expected to be offered his hand to shake. When it didn't come, he glanced down and the stiff, artificial set of Lindsey's hand told him why.
"I work at the law offices of Wolfram & Hart," Lindsey said. "My employers would like to offer you a position."
Riley folded his arms over his chest. "I'm not a lawyer."
"I know." Lindsey's voice was smooth, but Riley wasn't fooled. When he was a kid in Iowa, the cornfields always looked smooth after they got plowed, too. But if he went out walking in them, they were full of ruts and clods, waiting to trip him up, and prickly with the jagged remains of last year’s crop. He knew, with a certainty that startled him, that this man was just as full of traps and dangers.
"I'm not looking for a lawyer," Lindsey went on. "Frankly, we're already bursting with promising new applicants who are all far more qualified than you. No, what I'm looking for is a man with your ... skills. Weapons expertise, extraction, experience in combat with many known demon species." He paused and smiled. "And of course, there's your specialized knowledge."
Riley sneered. "I'm not telling you anything." He didn't even need to ask if they wanted information about the military or about Buffy, the answer was no either way.
"No," Lindsey said agreeably. "You're not." He stepped closer, and suddenly he was pressed up against Riley, warm and firm. "I'll tell you, though."
Riley's instincts were shot to hell. He knew this was a threat, knew he should fight, but the adrenaline from danger set off a whole different set of responses these days. He forced himself to take a step back, and found himself pressed back against a wall.
"You love the Slayer," Lindsey said matter-of-factly. "I've seen pictures; I don't blame you. So you feel like you need to be good enough for her. Strong enough for her. But you're not. Never will be. And you know she'll measure you against a yardstick in her head and find you wanting. A yardstick named Angel." Lindsey's face was so close that Riley could feel Lindsey's lips curl in a bitter grimace when he said the name.
"You knew you weren't good enough, so you thought maybe you could be bad enough," he whispered, hot breath in Riley's ear. "You weren't supposed to like it."
Lindsey's lips ghosted over Riley's neck, and he shuddered. When Lindsey's teeth followed the same path, Riley closed his eyes and let his head drop back against the wall.
He wanted.
Lindsey bit a sucking kiss, right at the edge of Riley's collar. "You weren't supposed to need it. But now you do. Even when you're in her bed, listening to her breath, you think about others. Vampires, who disgust you, who bite you with their dead mouths and make you feel alive."
Lindsey's hand, the real one, was pressed to Riley's heart, and Riley flushed at the knowledge that he could feel it hammering. The hand slid down, slowly, slowly until it was right over his dick, hard and aching and just as humiliating as his heartbeat.
Lindsey stroked Riley's erection through his pants, firm pressure that made Riley want to groan. "You don't have to tell me anything, Riley," Lindsey said. His voice was soft and confiding, and Riley was reminded of the time he went out to a plowed field after a rain. He'd sunk right up to his boot tops, and he hadn't been able to pull free without leaving his boots behind.
"You don't have to tell me anything," he repeated. "I already know." And he bit, hard and fast, while stroking Riley's dick exactly the same way, and that was all it took. He was quaking and coming and holding onto the wall to stay upright.
When he opened his eyes, Lindsey was smiling at him, polite and distant, like Riley was a business acquaintance whose name he wasn't quite sure of. It made Riley go cold inside.
"Think about our offer," Lindsey said, tucking a business card inside Riley's pocket, where it shoved unpleasantly at his dick, making him aware of the mess in his boxers. He took a step back and gave Riley a surveying look from his feet to his head. "You might want to get inside," he said, his voice pleasant but still cool. "Not everything that goes bump in the night wants to make a deal."
And he walked away, leaving Riley standing against the wall, weak in the knees and knowing, finally and certainly, that he was weak in his heart as well.
He dragged the card out of his pocket and clutched it all the way home.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-14 12:31 am (UTC)loved it
(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-14 01:07 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-14 01:13 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-14 01:42 am (UTC)I never ready BtVS or Angerl fic. But I loved the shows. This was a very cool little snippet. Are you going to take it further. It's perfect as it is, but I smell a whole series here.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-14 03:33 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-14 08:43 am (UTC)I love the way both their similarities and their differences were highlighted here - the self-loathing is so potent and in some ways they're a good match for one another.
Characterisations were awesome, it was suitably painful and I really liked the general direction you took with it!
Plus, coming in pants is one of my all-time favourite kinks...Clever you! Wahoo!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-15 01:08 am (UTC)Your characterizations where really spot on. excellent job! Loved this!
Thank you for sharing! :))
(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-17 03:18 am (UTC)Thanks for taking part in the ficathon!