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snoggedTitle: Name Of The Game
Author: snogged
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Co. own the characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel the Series. I don’t.
Pairing: Wesley/Lindsey
Word Count: 1190
Rating: FRAO/NC-17; adult language, angst/dark themes, explicit sexual themes that are dubious in nature, “character” death
Setting: Canon-ish. Set during Angel Season 5.
Summary: The name of the game is Texas Hold ‘Em and the stakes are high.
Betas:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ash_carpenter and whichclothes
A/N: Written for “Dude? Where’s My Truck” month at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
the_elevator.
“The name of the game is Texas Hold ‘Em. $10 small blind. $15 big blind. Aces go both ways,” Wesley instructed as the deck of cards he was holding suddenly became a blur of black and red, flying from hand to hand with undeniable speed and accuracy.
Lindsey had to admit the Brit’s display impressed him. He’d always been shit at shuffling a deck, even if he was decent at making it look like he didn’t suck. Benefit of being a lawyer, he supposed: always got to know how to put on a razzle-dazzle performance. Leaning back against the hard chair, he tossed his chips into the center of the table and watched under hooded eyes as Spike, Gunn, and Fred did the same.
In all his years of being the thorn in Angel’s side, he never would have guessed that it would come to a night like this. A night where he was just hanging out with decent folk with no ulterior motive, except to wipe them all clean of their money.
After Wesley burned a card, he laid out the first three cards, also known as the flop. Looking down at his hand, Lindsey’s nostrils flared slightly in annoyance. It sure as hell wasn’t the spread he’d been hoping for, but there was still the turn and the river to look forward to, and if those didn’t work there was always the classic bluff.
They went around the table, making raises, increasing the challenge, each one holding their own as they waited for Wesley to place down the final card that would decide the game’s first winner.
Spike won with an ace high and looked fucking smug as he pulled the pile of chips towards his chest.
As the hours wore on, Lindsey noticed their numbers dwindling. It started with Fred, then Gunn followed suit. Even Spike took off after awhile, claiming boredom had set in, though Lindsey suspected that had more to do with the fact that he’d only won one game that night and was feeling a little sore about it.
“Still playing?” Wesley asked, a smirk forming at the corners of his lips as his eyes travelled over the large pile of chips he’d collected during the course of the game. “Or are you going to walk out of here with your tail between your legs? It’s perfectly all right to be a loser, you know. You are quite good at it.”
“You bet I’m still playing,” Lindsey replied, flicking his tongue over his lips to moisten them. It probably wasn’t the best decision to stay considering how empty his pockets had become, but he really couldn’t say no to Wesley’s proffered challenge.
“Then let’s up the stakes, shall we?” Wesley mused, giving the deck another shuffle before dealing out the cards.
“What do you got in mind?” Lindsey asked.
Wesley reached into his pocket and drew out his car keys, casually chucking them into the center of the table. “My car for yours.”
Lindsey blanched, feeling unsettled by Wesley’s proposition. His truck, although aged and rusty, was more his baby than his guitar was. He’d gotten so much use of it over the years and the idea of parting with it just seemed like blasphemy. “Why the hell would I want to trade in MY truck for your stinking Acura?”
Wesley shrugged, maintaining an ambivalent expression. “Either that or your arse. I really don’t mind.”
Lindsey’s eyes widened and his mouth formed a small ‘o.’ This was certainly not the way he’d imagined the night going. “You saying you want to fuck me, Wes?”
“If I win…yes,” Wesley replied smoothly. “Not that I envision your arse being pure and virginal. No doubt you’ve been whoring yourself for a long time now.”
Lindsey gulped, wondering why he hadn’t yet said a word about what would happen if he won their final game. Instead, he was caught up in the way Wesley’s words crawled beneath his skin. The way Wesley’s words made his body feel. The way his muscles clenched, the way his heart pounded, the way his dick twitched. “Fuck you.”
“You would like that, wouldn’t you? Slut like you doesn’t even want to play the game anymore. You just want to get to the action,” Wesley said coolly. “So what did it, Lindsey? The thought of me bending you over the table and rubbing your face in the plastic chips while I ride you or was it the thought of me pushing you into the grime and dirt of your truck bed and fucking you senseless?”
Lindsey’s cock trembled, pulsing against the confines of his tight blue jeans. His head was dizzy from all the possibilities and he barely wanted to admit to himself that he actually wanted Wesley to do all of those things.
“Fuck,” Lindsey whispered, his breath catching in his throat as he fished his keys out his pocket and stood up from the table.
Amusement glittered in Wesley’s eyes as they headed out towards the underground parking lot. As they hurriedly walked towards the stall where Lindsey had parked, Lindsey resisted the urge to just turn around, grab Wesley, and push him to the ground. It would sate him just as easily to straddle the man on the cold cement, to lose himself in the fever that was already overtaking him.
But they were only a few seconds away from the truck and he intended to be a good boy. He intended to wait. He intended to…
“What the fuck?”
Lindsey frowned, the tension in his compact frame coiling around his stomach like a viper. Something was missing here. Something very important.
“Where’s my fucking truck?”
A low, sultry chuckle echoed in his ears and Lindsey whirled around to see Spike had appeared from the shadows and was standing right beside Wesley, who looked equally entertained by this scenario.
From Spike’s long, pale finger hung a small silver key. “Looking for this, mate?”
Lindsey paused; the lust that had been burning up his belly was slowly dissipating as he checked his key rings and realized that the keys to his baby had, in fact, been snagged. He’d been played. More importantly, he was damn sure he’d been screwed.
“Where is she?” Lindsey gritted his teeth, almost afraid of their answer.
“Pretty sure she’s at the bottom of the San Francisco bay by now,” Spike replied. “Let’s call her a casualty of war, Doyle.”
Lindsey wanted to scream, wanted to punch something, wanted to ram their heads into the wall. But instead, he just stood there, feeling like a wilted dick. No wonder they’d asked him to play poker.
It had almost been too good to be true.
“You will pay for that,” Lindsey muttered, storming off towards the exit, not even bothering to look back at them even though their derisive laughter still stung in his ears. In a few weeks from now, none of this would matter anyway. In a few weeks from now, Wolfram and Hart’s final plan would be set in motion and then this whole damn town would burn.
It was a game everyone would lose.
Author: snogged
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Co. own the characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel the Series. I don’t.
Pairing: Wesley/Lindsey
Word Count: 1190
Rating: FRAO/NC-17; adult language, angst/dark themes, explicit sexual themes that are dubious in nature, “character” death
Setting: Canon-ish. Set during Angel Season 5.
Summary: The name of the game is Texas Hold ‘Em and the stakes are high.
Betas:
ash_carpenter and whichclothesA/N: Written for “Dude? Where’s My Truck” month at
the_elevator. “The name of the game is Texas Hold ‘Em. $10 small blind. $15 big blind. Aces go both ways,” Wesley instructed as the deck of cards he was holding suddenly became a blur of black and red, flying from hand to hand with undeniable speed and accuracy.
Lindsey had to admit the Brit’s display impressed him. He’d always been shit at shuffling a deck, even if he was decent at making it look like he didn’t suck. Benefit of being a lawyer, he supposed: always got to know how to put on a razzle-dazzle performance. Leaning back against the hard chair, he tossed his chips into the center of the table and watched under hooded eyes as Spike, Gunn, and Fred did the same.
In all his years of being the thorn in Angel’s side, he never would have guessed that it would come to a night like this. A night where he was just hanging out with decent folk with no ulterior motive, except to wipe them all clean of their money.
After Wesley burned a card, he laid out the first three cards, also known as the flop. Looking down at his hand, Lindsey’s nostrils flared slightly in annoyance. It sure as hell wasn’t the spread he’d been hoping for, but there was still the turn and the river to look forward to, and if those didn’t work there was always the classic bluff.
They went around the table, making raises, increasing the challenge, each one holding their own as they waited for Wesley to place down the final card that would decide the game’s first winner.
Spike won with an ace high and looked fucking smug as he pulled the pile of chips towards his chest.
As the hours wore on, Lindsey noticed their numbers dwindling. It started with Fred, then Gunn followed suit. Even Spike took off after awhile, claiming boredom had set in, though Lindsey suspected that had more to do with the fact that he’d only won one game that night and was feeling a little sore about it.
“Still playing?” Wesley asked, a smirk forming at the corners of his lips as his eyes travelled over the large pile of chips he’d collected during the course of the game. “Or are you going to walk out of here with your tail between your legs? It’s perfectly all right to be a loser, you know. You are quite good at it.”
“You bet I’m still playing,” Lindsey replied, flicking his tongue over his lips to moisten them. It probably wasn’t the best decision to stay considering how empty his pockets had become, but he really couldn’t say no to Wesley’s proffered challenge.
“Then let’s up the stakes, shall we?” Wesley mused, giving the deck another shuffle before dealing out the cards.
“What do you got in mind?” Lindsey asked.
Wesley reached into his pocket and drew out his car keys, casually chucking them into the center of the table. “My car for yours.”
Lindsey blanched, feeling unsettled by Wesley’s proposition. His truck, although aged and rusty, was more his baby than his guitar was. He’d gotten so much use of it over the years and the idea of parting with it just seemed like blasphemy. “Why the hell would I want to trade in MY truck for your stinking Acura?”
Wesley shrugged, maintaining an ambivalent expression. “Either that or your arse. I really don’t mind.”
Lindsey’s eyes widened and his mouth formed a small ‘o.’ This was certainly not the way he’d imagined the night going. “You saying you want to fuck me, Wes?”
“If I win…yes,” Wesley replied smoothly. “Not that I envision your arse being pure and virginal. No doubt you’ve been whoring yourself for a long time now.”
Lindsey gulped, wondering why he hadn’t yet said a word about what would happen if he won their final game. Instead, he was caught up in the way Wesley’s words crawled beneath his skin. The way Wesley’s words made his body feel. The way his muscles clenched, the way his heart pounded, the way his dick twitched. “Fuck you.”
“You would like that, wouldn’t you? Slut like you doesn’t even want to play the game anymore. You just want to get to the action,” Wesley said coolly. “So what did it, Lindsey? The thought of me bending you over the table and rubbing your face in the plastic chips while I ride you or was it the thought of me pushing you into the grime and dirt of your truck bed and fucking you senseless?”
Lindsey’s cock trembled, pulsing against the confines of his tight blue jeans. His head was dizzy from all the possibilities and he barely wanted to admit to himself that he actually wanted Wesley to do all of those things.
“Fuck,” Lindsey whispered, his breath catching in his throat as he fished his keys out his pocket and stood up from the table.
Amusement glittered in Wesley’s eyes as they headed out towards the underground parking lot. As they hurriedly walked towards the stall where Lindsey had parked, Lindsey resisted the urge to just turn around, grab Wesley, and push him to the ground. It would sate him just as easily to straddle the man on the cold cement, to lose himself in the fever that was already overtaking him.
But they were only a few seconds away from the truck and he intended to be a good boy. He intended to wait. He intended to…
“What the fuck?”
Lindsey frowned, the tension in his compact frame coiling around his stomach like a viper. Something was missing here. Something very important.
“Where’s my fucking truck?”
A low, sultry chuckle echoed in his ears and Lindsey whirled around to see Spike had appeared from the shadows and was standing right beside Wesley, who looked equally entertained by this scenario.
From Spike’s long, pale finger hung a small silver key. “Looking for this, mate?”
Lindsey paused; the lust that had been burning up his belly was slowly dissipating as he checked his key rings and realized that the keys to his baby had, in fact, been snagged. He’d been played. More importantly, he was damn sure he’d been screwed.
“Where is she?” Lindsey gritted his teeth, almost afraid of their answer.
“Pretty sure she’s at the bottom of the San Francisco bay by now,” Spike replied. “Let’s call her a casualty of war, Doyle.”
Lindsey wanted to scream, wanted to punch something, wanted to ram their heads into the wall. But instead, he just stood there, feeling like a wilted dick. No wonder they’d asked him to play poker.
It had almost been too good to be true.
“You will pay for that,” Lindsey muttered, storming off towards the exit, not even bothering to look back at them even though their derisive laughter still stung in his ears. In a few weeks from now, none of this would matter anyway. In a few weeks from now, Wolfram and Hart’s final plan would be set in motion and then this whole damn town would burn.
It was a game everyone would lose.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
on 2010-06-28 12:33 am (UTC)Gabrielle
no subject
on 2010-06-28 01:21 am (UTC)no subject
on 2010-06-28 02:53 am (UTC)no subject
on 2010-06-28 07:03 am (UTC)no subject
on 2010-06-28 03:19 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2010-06-28 04:38 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2010-06-28 06:12 pm (UTC)This doesn't look good for old Linds.
Then again, it's hard to compete with the combination of Wes and Spike.
no subject
on 2010-06-28 07:05 pm (UTC)But damn, girl. In charge Wes is just too yummy!
*drifts off to happy place*
no subject
on 2010-06-28 08:27 pm (UTC)Excellent response to the prompt my darling!
*kisses* xxx
no subject
on 2010-06-28 08:31 pm (UTC)Glad you liked!
no subject
on 2010-06-28 08:31 pm (UTC)*hugs*
no subject
on 2010-06-28 08:31 pm (UTC)Thanks!
no subject
on 2010-06-28 08:32 pm (UTC)Linds doesn't stand a chance against them.
no subject
on 2010-06-28 08:32 pm (UTC)