FIC: Dealing - Part 7b (Ethan/Lindsey)
Sep. 21st, 2004 07:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
estepheiaEarlier chapters are here and here: Part 7a.
Many thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sangpassionne for her help with this chapter.
Whoohoo, I'm finally venturing furhter into UST territory. And I intend to stay there for a while.
Part 7b - Rise
"You float that pencil and breakfast's on me." Ethan said. "Come on, this is child's play. A six-year old could do it."
Lindsey's brow creased and a vein stood out on his forehead, as he tried harder. Ethan grinned.
They sat opposite each other on the unmade bed, legs crossed, arms and hands resting on their thighs, with the pencil lying between them.
Ethan's eyes weren't on the pencil, he was watching his pupil, amused by the way Lindsey's eyes shone with slow-burning fury. Pretty. Almost recluctantly, Ethan switched sights to study Lindsey's aura, now that his Sight was no longer hampered by the amulet's protective veil. The reds were less intense this time, the yellows more vibrant. There was also a clear blue streak of growing spiritual awareness. Already the path Lindsey had chosen showed up in his aura.
For someone who'd never worked magic before, Lindsey's control and focus were impressive. He got through the mental exercises and the words of the spell without a single mistake, his determination honed to scalpel sharpness.
Ethan was an avid racegoer with an eye for horses. He could always tell the also-rans from the fighters. Thick-headed and hot-tempered like a thoroughbred stallion, Lindsey was obviously one of the latter – his ambition to always come in first overpowering all self-doubt or sense of self-preservation. Too proud to admit defeat.
Lindsey's aura started to crackle and light up with sparks of frustration, and still the pencil refused to budge even an inch.
Bugger.
Ethan leaned forward, and started to slowly unbutton Lindsey's shirt. "Keep going," he said softly. "You're doing fine."
Lindsey's tensed even more, if that was at all possible, but he stubbornly kept his eyes on the pencil.
"Don't worry, I promise I won't corrupt you," Ethan lied easily. "I'll just give you a little leg-up, so to speak." He pushed the shirt open, laying Lindsey's chest and shoulders bare, and paused for a second to admire the muscular, well-trained torso before him. With the eyes of a connoisseur, Ethan took in the smooth, well-waxed chest with its perfect pink nipples, and the strong biceps. Oh yes. Very nice. His body responded with unexpected urgency.
Not entirely sure if the chip would object or not, Ethan slowly raised his hand and brought it to Lindsey's chest. As their skin touched, he gasped, his eyes closing with the familiar sense of relief and ecstasy as the magical circuit completed and a pulse of power resembling the jolt from a low-voltage fence passed through his fingers and palm. With a deep, shuddering intake of breath, Lindsey arched towards him, intensifying the contact. Ethan did not need to look at his hand to know it was glowing.
The chip stayed silent, even when Ethan began to spill his power into his apprentice, careful not to give away too much about himself in the process. Pouring oneself into another person was a lot like letting one's pants down, something Ethan enjoyed more in the literal than in the metaphorical sense. Lindsey shouldn't pick up much – a few stray snapshots perhaps, moods, sounds or flavours, maybe traces of Rack or Ripper.
The link was nowhere near strong enough to give Ethan a chance to rifle through Lindsey's mind, but a few images got caught in the current and bobbed in the swell like pieces of flotsam, and Ethan eagerly snatched them up: a beautiful but sad blonde woman; a well-oiled gun in a leather holster; an arm ending in a bloody stump; a strong, byronic-looking man with his hand around Ethan's/Lindsey's throat; and finally a tall man in uniform – with a stern black and white photograph where his face should have been.
"Do you feel it?" Ethan asked. "The power?"
Lindsey nodded. His pupils were dilated and his breathing was ragged. Ethan could feel the man's heart hammer beneath his hand. Swirls of slate-gray smoke gathered in Lindsey's eyes like storm clouds piling up before a thunderstorm.
"Concentrate on the pencil," Ethan murmured, spellbound by the sight. "Feel it's length, wrap that power around it, gently… like you'd touch…. something fragile. Yes, and now… make it float."
When Lindsey gathered the currents of power and threw them at the pencil, it didn't just float, it rose into the air like a model helicopter taking flight. Lindsey's unalloyed elation at a task well done surged over them both, travelling back and forth through the link like a hot wave. Ethan swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. But this was the moment he'd been waiting for, the one he'd been working towards. This was not the time for second thoughts.
Ethan smiled his most benign smile. Like an assassin dripping his syrupy poison down a hanging thread onto the lips of his sleeping mark, Ethan sent a clandestine trickle of arousal through the magical link, only to discover that Lindsey was already half-hard. He hid his smirk behind a mask of concentration. This was almost too easy.
"You're doing great, son," he said teasingly. He was unprepared for the nervous flutter beneath his palm. The pencil wobbled for a second, and there was a strange ripple in the outer fringes of the lad's aura, where the long-term memories were stored.
Ethan blinked, but quickly regained his composure. "Your control is impressive for a beginner," he said truthfully. "Now make it stand up, yeah, that's it. Good."
Obediently, the pencil stood up.
Their eyes met.
"What else can you do?" Ethan asked, continuing to pour power through the link, while subtly fanning the glowing embers of Lindsey's arousal. His own body echoed Lindsey's want, or maybe Lindsey's echoed his? "Come on, son, show me." Another tell-tale tremor travelled through Lindsey's body, barely noticable if it weren't for Ethan's hand on Lindsey's chest. It wasn't anger but something much more interesting.
This was lightyears from Rack's repulsive harvesting 'sessions'. Lindsey was like a sponge, eagerly soaking up Ethan's power and using it to make the pencil spin and dance and flit around like a hummingbird. Ethan hadn't felt this kind of rapport in a very long time.
"Alright, enough," Ethan finally said. He withdrew his hand, breaking the connection. The pencil wobbled in the air then plummeted. Ethan caught it neatly in his hand.
Lindsey was panting with exertion. His skin was flushed. A visible bulge in his jeans gave his arousal away, but he was grinning. "I did it," he said almost incredulously.
"You did indeed," Ethan responded with a grin of his own, feeling a stab of something almost akin to affection for the young man. Ethan remembered only too well how he'd felt the first time he had made a pencil float. He'd been six at the time, but there was no need to tell Lindsey that, was there? "Hungry?"
"Ravenous," Lindsey smiled and added with a hint of malice: "You owe me breakfast."
"Indeed. Then let's go." Ethan nodded at Lindsey's discomfort. "Oh, and I wouldn't get rid of that," he said matter-of-factly. "You might need it later."
TBC
Many thanks to
sangpassionne for her help with this chapter.Whoohoo, I'm finally venturing furhter into UST territory. And I intend to stay there for a while.
Part 7b - Rise
"You float that pencil and breakfast's on me." Ethan said. "Come on, this is child's play. A six-year old could do it."
Lindsey's brow creased and a vein stood out on his forehead, as he tried harder. Ethan grinned.
They sat opposite each other on the unmade bed, legs crossed, arms and hands resting on their thighs, with the pencil lying between them.
Ethan's eyes weren't on the pencil, he was watching his pupil, amused by the way Lindsey's eyes shone with slow-burning fury. Pretty. Almost recluctantly, Ethan switched sights to study Lindsey's aura, now that his Sight was no longer hampered by the amulet's protective veil. The reds were less intense this time, the yellows more vibrant. There was also a clear blue streak of growing spiritual awareness. Already the path Lindsey had chosen showed up in his aura.
For someone who'd never worked magic before, Lindsey's control and focus were impressive. He got through the mental exercises and the words of the spell without a single mistake, his determination honed to scalpel sharpness.
Ethan was an avid racegoer with an eye for horses. He could always tell the also-rans from the fighters. Thick-headed and hot-tempered like a thoroughbred stallion, Lindsey was obviously one of the latter – his ambition to always come in first overpowering all self-doubt or sense of self-preservation. Too proud to admit defeat.
Lindsey's aura started to crackle and light up with sparks of frustration, and still the pencil refused to budge even an inch.
Bugger.
Ethan leaned forward, and started to slowly unbutton Lindsey's shirt. "Keep going," he said softly. "You're doing fine."
Lindsey's tensed even more, if that was at all possible, but he stubbornly kept his eyes on the pencil.
"Don't worry, I promise I won't corrupt you," Ethan lied easily. "I'll just give you a little leg-up, so to speak." He pushed the shirt open, laying Lindsey's chest and shoulders bare, and paused for a second to admire the muscular, well-trained torso before him. With the eyes of a connoisseur, Ethan took in the smooth, well-waxed chest with its perfect pink nipples, and the strong biceps. Oh yes. Very nice. His body responded with unexpected urgency.
Not entirely sure if the chip would object or not, Ethan slowly raised his hand and brought it to Lindsey's chest. As their skin touched, he gasped, his eyes closing with the familiar sense of relief and ecstasy as the magical circuit completed and a pulse of power resembling the jolt from a low-voltage fence passed through his fingers and palm. With a deep, shuddering intake of breath, Lindsey arched towards him, intensifying the contact. Ethan did not need to look at his hand to know it was glowing.
The chip stayed silent, even when Ethan began to spill his power into his apprentice, careful not to give away too much about himself in the process. Pouring oneself into another person was a lot like letting one's pants down, something Ethan enjoyed more in the literal than in the metaphorical sense. Lindsey shouldn't pick up much – a few stray snapshots perhaps, moods, sounds or flavours, maybe traces of Rack or Ripper.
The link was nowhere near strong enough to give Ethan a chance to rifle through Lindsey's mind, but a few images got caught in the current and bobbed in the swell like pieces of flotsam, and Ethan eagerly snatched them up: a beautiful but sad blonde woman; a well-oiled gun in a leather holster; an arm ending in a bloody stump; a strong, byronic-looking man with his hand around Ethan's/Lindsey's throat; and finally a tall man in uniform – with a stern black and white photograph where his face should have been.
"Do you feel it?" Ethan asked. "The power?"
Lindsey nodded. His pupils were dilated and his breathing was ragged. Ethan could feel the man's heart hammer beneath his hand. Swirls of slate-gray smoke gathered in Lindsey's eyes like storm clouds piling up before a thunderstorm.
"Concentrate on the pencil," Ethan murmured, spellbound by the sight. "Feel it's length, wrap that power around it, gently… like you'd touch…. something fragile. Yes, and now… make it float."
When Lindsey gathered the currents of power and threw them at the pencil, it didn't just float, it rose into the air like a model helicopter taking flight. Lindsey's unalloyed elation at a task well done surged over them both, travelling back and forth through the link like a hot wave. Ethan swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. But this was the moment he'd been waiting for, the one he'd been working towards. This was not the time for second thoughts.
Ethan smiled his most benign smile. Like an assassin dripping his syrupy poison down a hanging thread onto the lips of his sleeping mark, Ethan sent a clandestine trickle of arousal through the magical link, only to discover that Lindsey was already half-hard. He hid his smirk behind a mask of concentration. This was almost too easy.
"You're doing great, son," he said teasingly. He was unprepared for the nervous flutter beneath his palm. The pencil wobbled for a second, and there was a strange ripple in the outer fringes of the lad's aura, where the long-term memories were stored.
Ethan blinked, but quickly regained his composure. "Your control is impressive for a beginner," he said truthfully. "Now make it stand up, yeah, that's it. Good."
Obediently, the pencil stood up.
Their eyes met.
"What else can you do?" Ethan asked, continuing to pour power through the link, while subtly fanning the glowing embers of Lindsey's arousal. His own body echoed Lindsey's want, or maybe Lindsey's echoed his? "Come on, son, show me." Another tell-tale tremor travelled through Lindsey's body, barely noticable if it weren't for Ethan's hand on Lindsey's chest. It wasn't anger but something much more interesting.
This was lightyears from Rack's repulsive harvesting 'sessions'. Lindsey was like a sponge, eagerly soaking up Ethan's power and using it to make the pencil spin and dance and flit around like a hummingbird. Ethan hadn't felt this kind of rapport in a very long time.
"Alright, enough," Ethan finally said. He withdrew his hand, breaking the connection. The pencil wobbled in the air then plummeted. Ethan caught it neatly in his hand.
Lindsey was panting with exertion. His skin was flushed. A visible bulge in his jeans gave his arousal away, but he was grinning. "I did it," he said almost incredulously.
"You did indeed," Ethan responded with a grin of his own, feeling a stab of something almost akin to affection for the young man. Ethan remembered only too well how he'd felt the first time he had made a pencil float. He'd been six at the time, but there was no need to tell Lindsey that, was there? "Hungry?"
"Ravenous," Lindsey smiled and added with a hint of malice: "You owe me breakfast."
"Indeed. Then let's go." Ethan nodded at Lindsey's discomfort. "Oh, and I wouldn't get rid of that," he said matter-of-factly. "You might need it later."
TBC
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-09-21 11:00 am (UTC)Favorite bit was the very last:
"Oh, and I wouldn't get rid of that," he said matter-of-factly. "You might need it later."
I just wish I could see Lindsey's face as he realizes what Ethan's implying.
no subject
Date: 2004-09-21 04:45 pm (UTC)It's odd. Often I set out writing a story and I have no clue where I'm going, but with this fic I knew right from the beginning what the ending was going to be. :-)
Lindsey's reappearance on Angel was unexpected but a blessing, it gave me a few additional ideas...
Anyhow, I won't give anything about the 'son' business away. You'll see soon enough.
Oh and one more thing: I know what will happen next, but I'd love to know what you think Ethan is implying. :-)
Thanks for commenting. *hug*
no subject
Date: 2004-09-21 12:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-21 04:56 pm (UTC)I'm glad you're still reading.