Fic: The Hunt 1/2
Mar. 31st, 2011 11:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonyphoenixTitle: The Hunt 1/2
Fandom: BtVS
Characters/Pairing: Lindsey, Wesley, Giles, Ethan, Spike
Rating: R
Concrit: Please, in comments
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, not yet, but the will be once I've taken over the world. Bwah-ha-ha.
Warnings/Squicks: gang bang non-con, a touch of incest, man hunting man, death of a major character (I think I got them all!)
Summary: evil!Giles has a ritual to make his nephew, Wesley, into a man
Note: Written for a prompt at Darker Vault: sacrifice (Got it in just in the nick of time, beating the deadline by less than fifteen minutes!)
Note: Sequel to Ash Carpenter's story Property, and you'd think I'd be able to read her stories without having to write at least two sequels, going off in different and mutually exclusive directions, to each one!
Note: I can't believe I wrote the very clichéd man-hunting-man trope.
Wesley had escorted Lindsey to the Great Hall, which was unusual in and of itself. Spike generally did Giles' dirty work. Painfully shy, bookish, awkward even though he was well into his twenties, Wesley had stopped next to what Lindsey had come to think of as The Alcove. On safer days – no day was truly safe – it held leather chairs, a few side tables, and possibly a bar where the guests could help themselves. On bad days it was curtained off providing privacy for Giles' guests while they helped themselves to something else. On that day there was no curtain to hide the bed. Lindsey had no idea how bad a sign that was.
As Wesley's gaze jerked past the bed and off of Lindsey's mottled skin, finally resting on the painting hanging just past The Alcove, his cheeks flamed red. Nodding toward the painting, he stuttered out the words “The Holly King.” Lindsey, assuming he was referring to the painting, took in yet another hunting scene with one quick glance. All the paintings in that room depicted a formal hunt, not for a fox but for a demon. The one in that painting had horns, horns that looked like the antlers of a deer, and wore a ring of holly on his head.
Wesley stood there silently, shifting from foot to foot as if upset, not that he didn't have reason to be nervous. While his life wasn't as hellish as Lindsey's, being Giles' nephew and heir did protected Wesley from the grosser forms of physical abuse, his uncle was determined to turn him into a proper man, into someone as selfish and cruel as Giles himself.
Leaning close to Lindsey, who was standing next to him, Wesley whispered, “The Oak King kills the Holly King.” As Lindsey glanced up, their eyes met. Wesley, looking bloated and pale so close up, jumped back as if hurt.
“There you are,” called out a hearty voice from the doorway. Lindsey, suddenly glad for Wesley's company, felt ashamed but the fact remained, Ethan was more interested in what he couldn't have. Wesley turned, a fake smile plastered across his face as Ethan strolled over. “You naughty boy, hardly touched your breakfast and on such an important day as well. You've been clever, I grant you that, holding your uncle at bay for six years, but you've finally run out of subterfuges, haven't you?”
“It wasn't like that,” Wesley stammered. “The ritual is too important, um, if one isn't prepared that is, and, um...” Looking down at the floor, he changed the topic, addressing Ethan's earlier comments. “I wasn't hungry. Uncle wanted Lindsey brought over,” he finished, invoking Giles like a shield, as if the man would protect his nephew from his lover.
“Anyone could have done that. Hell, I could have...” His words trailed off as he ran his hands down Lindsey's back, along the grain of the tiny scales. Reaching one hand around he lifted Lindsey's chin. “I simply can't get over how exotic he looks, and such a simple mod as well. Who'd have thought snakeskin would be so much more attractive than human skin?” Quick as a flash he grabbed Wesley's hand, pulling it toward Lindsey's arm. “Smooth as silk too. Here. Feel. Rub. Caress.”
“No,” Wesley cried with a shout, pulling his hand back. “I'm certain my uncle wouldn't want him... interfered with before the ceremony.”
“Quite right,” Giles called out from the far end of the room. He was decked out in hunter's black, much like the men in the painting. “Ethan, I'd appreciate it if you'd stop tormenting my nephew and keep you grubby hands off my property. Our guests will be arriving soon and Wesley needs to get ready.”
“My hands are quite clean, I assure you,” Ethan replied, not denying the torment.
Giles' look of derisive amusement was clear even at that distance. “You need to prepare as well. And you,” he added, his voice taking on the tone he reserved for Lindsey, that tone which suggested he thought the slave too stupid to follow even the most basic directions. “Get into your proper position. My nephew may be remiss in correcting your behavior, but I assure you nobody else in this household shall be.” Lindsey scrambled to his knees. By the time he was in position, kneeling, his hands before him, and with his head bowed toward the ground, he was alone in the room.
As guests wandered in and out of the Great Hall all day, either singly or in groups of twos and threes, Lindsey could feel their eyes on him. It was unnerving. Each and every one of them had used him at some point, which meant there was no reason for them to be so interested, but they were.
The shadows through the window had grown long by the time Spike showed up. Looking over his shoulder, he snapped his fingers at Lindsey. “Let's get you into that bed.”
Lindsey didn't move. “What's going on?”
Grabbing him by the hair, Spike yanked him off the floor. “I don't have time for this,” he hissed.
“Tell me.”
Spike glanced over his shoulder, fear clear in his eyes.
“They're at dinner,” Lindsey said. “He's not gonna be watching us now.”
Spike threw him on the bed, face down, holding him in place with what felt like a knee. “You'll know soon enough.”
Turning his head to one side, Lindsey muttered, “I want to know now.” At the familiar sensation of Spike's fingers in his ass, lubing him up and stretching him out, he added, “It's gotta be more than the usual. Not one of those assholes had a slave with him. I've never seen that before, never. What is it?”
Spike took three steps to the edge of The Alcove, glanced around the room, and then went back to Lindsey. “Danger,” he whispered. “Not just for you though.” He sat up, listening for a moment before finishing. “Times like this, they get wild, out of control. They do more damage than they mean to.”
He was gone before Lindsey could blink. “Hey,” Lindsey shouted. “Times like what?” When he realized Spike wasn't returning, Lindsey sat up, back against the headboard with his knees pulled to his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs.
As a gong sounded, he heard footsteps, slowly but steadily, making their way across the room. Wesley, a ring of holly on his head stopped at the edge of The Alcove, turning to face the doorway. He could hear Giles, from the far end of the room, near the entrance, greeting his guests, and then Wesley wasn't alone. One of the men, also dressed in hunter's black had joined him. “You'll do fine, lad,” he said before kissing Wesley firmly but somewhat awkwardly on the mouth. Wesley, clenching his hands into fists, his face as pale as the moon, visibly gulped. As the man walked off, moving into the center of the room, another took his place. His kiss was longer and passionate. Lindsey, watching with wide eyes, thought he saw his tongue slip into Wesley's mouth. Man after man after man, thirty-four in all, Lindsey kept a count, stopped to kiss Wesley before mingling in the main room until finally Ethan and Giles stood there next to his nephew.
Wesley closed his eyes as if gathering strength as Giles gestured for his lover to go first. Brushing a hand down Wesley's jawline, Ethan said, “I can't tell you how very long I've been wanting to do this, well, not this exactly, but the rest will have to wait.” As Ethan made a show of the kiss, licking the edges of Wesley's lips, he slipped a hand down, grabbing at the younger man's ass. “Ow,” he shouted, pulling his hand back, shaking it as if in pain.
“You should have known I'd put an imp on him to keep grabby hands at bay,” Giles said. Closing his eyes, he kissed his nephew gently, almost reverently, as if his lips were at the edge of something holy. Lindsey hadn't known Giles could look so pure.
With a look of reluctance, Giles left Wesley behind as he stepped into The Alcove. From a side table, he picked up a ring of oak leaves. He raised them slowly, bringing them up over his head, chanting words that Lindsey couldn't make out. As they settled on his head like a crown, a flash of gold light blinded Lindsey's vision.
When he could see again, Giles stood by the bed, a feral smile on his face. “On. Your. Back.” Giles climbed onto the bed, using more care than he ever had in Lindsey's experience. Closing his eyes, Giles rubbed his hands down Lindsey's torso, caressing skin. Lindsey froze beneath him. This was new and too strange coming from the man who'd always treated him like a tool. Cringing as Giles' hands found his cock, Lindsey waited for the pain to start. It didn't. Giles stroked him slowly, carefully, treating him like he would a lover, his fingers moving in an intricate pattern, arousing Lindsey against his will. As the hand started rubbing him faster and faster, Lindsey let out a gasp of pleasure. Giles, his eyes still closed, smiled. “Oh, good.” As the tip of his cock thrust into Lindsey's ass, Giles threw his head back, gasping out ah “Oh” of pleasure. Laying his body down on top of Lindsey's so they were chest to chest, he whispered, so quietly that nobody else could hear, “Wesley.” Lindsey scanned Giles' face, looking for any clue to the man's thoughts, but saw only bliss. This wasn't the man he knew. Giles thrusts were slow and sensual, his cock striking Lindsey's prostate with a precision that had Lindsey pulling at the sheets, grabbing them with both hands as he arched up to meet Giles' cock. Pulling Lindsey closer, rubbing his torso against Lindsey's cock, Giles increased the pressure until Lindsey came with a shout, and then Giles came as well, shooting his seed into Lindsey's ass.
Without looking at Lindsey, Giles stood, zipped his pants, and approached the crowd. Ethan, wearing a leer, stepped into The Alcove. As Giles removed the oak leaf ring from his own head, placing it on Ethan's, Lindsey noticed the men were eying him speculatively. Ethan, moving with a sensuous grace, almost danced his way to the bed. “Do be a dear and unzip this for me.” As Lindsey pulled down the zipper, it hit him. One by one each and every man in the room would don the oak leaves and fuck him.
What was it Wesley had said. “The Oak King kills the Holly King.” So, what did that mean? All the men were the Oak King or was it just Giles? If Wesley was the Holly King, how did Lindsey fit in? And that didn't make sense. Wesley was Giles' heir. While Giles was an absolute bastard, Lindsey couldn't see him killing Wesley.
“Hey,” Lindsey shouted out as Ethan tweaked his nipples viciously.
“Don't zone out on me boy.” Leaning down he whispered, “Ripper may have used you to fulfill a very interesting fantasy,” he said, glancing up, leering toward Wesley, “but I don't mind waiting until I've got my hands on him. I have no problem hurting you.” Lindsey desperately wanted to close his eyes, to turn his head from the truth of those words, but he knew Ethan would go all the harder on him if he did. “Good,” Ethan said in his normal voice as he sat back up. Glancing toward at the crowd, he called out, “It's going to be a long night.” Ethan grinned as a few of the men chuckled in response.
Each man blurred into the next until all Lindsey could see were the oak leaves shifting from above him to behind him to under him as each man shoved him into a different position. He was on all fours, his arms trembling with the effort of keeping himself upright, when he heard the gong sounding out three times and then Giles' voice saying, “Sit him up.” Lindsey winced as two of the men rolled him over, forcing him to kneel on the bed with a quick but needless efficiency. He would have moved himself if they'd given him the chance.
At the edge of The Alcove, Giles was staring at Wesley, an almost tender look on his face as he removed the holly ring from Wesley's head and handed it to Ethan who, after carrying it to the bed, jammed it onto Lindsey's head, pushing the spikes in until blood ran down his face. Placing the oak leaves on Wesley's crown, Giles kissed him and said, “This you must do to become a man.”
Wesley's eyes were dark against his pale skin as he approached the bed, trying to move with dignity but looking as if he were terrified. As Giles stepped up, joining him and Ethan at the side of the bed, Wesley stammered, “I don't know if I can.”
Gracefully twisting his hand to point toward Wesley, Ethan asked Giles, “May I?”
“I've removed the imp,” Giles replied. “For now,” he added with a stern look.
As Ethan unzipped his pants, Wesley jumped back, plastering himself against his uncle. Giles, his face a mask of pure bliss, gasped in pleasure. Grabbing Wesley by the hips, Giles held him still as Ethan rubbed his hand along the Wesley's cock, working his thumb around the head and down the vein. “Of course you can,” Ethan purred. “We'll just get you nice and hard and there'll be no problem at all.” As Ethan held out his hand, one of the other men, one of the two who had sat Lindsey up earlier, poured lube into the palm. “This'll make it easier on you,” Ethan crooned, rubbing the lube onto Wesley's cock, which jutted up against his hand, standing tall and firm.
At Giles' nod the two men grabbed Lindsey, picking him up and pulling at his legs until he was on his back, his knees bent into the air. “Do it,” Giles ordered. Wesley clambered awkwardly onto the bed. Placing his cock against Lindsey's ass, he looked up at Giles, his eyes wide as if begging for... Lindsey didn't know what he wanted. Most likely to be out of there but it could have been approval he needed. Giles nodded and Wesley, squeezing his eyes shut, pushed himself into Lindsey.
Compared to what the other men had put him through, the pain was barely noticeable, but seeing the look on Wesley's face, knowing that he himself was at the center of this desecration Giles was putting the man through, Lindsey clenched his ass, trying to push him back out. It was the wrong thing to do. Wesley gasped. As he realized it was from the pleasure of his ass tightening around his cock, Lindsey turned his head away only to see Ethan oiling up Giles' middle finger.
Lindsey's gaze followed Giles' hand as it trailed over Wesley's head and down to his neck and shoulder. Wesley looked like he was working, as if fucking were a struggle, his thrusts arrhythmic and awkwardly timed. Ethan's eyes glittered as Giles' hand moved down Wesley's back. There were three more thrusts and suddenly Wesley let out a shout, looking almost terrified. “Shhh,” Ethan urged. “It's one little finger, just to help you along.” After two more thrusts, Wesley let out a gasp and then a scream as his arms went rigid and his face contorted.
Collapsing against the bed, assuming his part was done, Lindsey breathed a sigh of relief as the men, cheering, clapped Wesley on the shoulder as they led him out into the main room. “Up,” he heard Giles say. Lindsey, moving even before his conscious mind understood what he'd heard, winced as he stood, barely able to handle the pain.
Fandom: BtVS
Characters/Pairing: Lindsey, Wesley, Giles, Ethan, Spike
Rating: R
Concrit: Please, in comments
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, not yet, but the will be once I've taken over the world. Bwah-ha-ha.
Warnings/Squicks: gang bang non-con, a touch of incest, man hunting man, death of a major character (I think I got them all!)
Summary: evil!Giles has a ritual to make his nephew, Wesley, into a man
Note: Written for a prompt at Darker Vault: sacrifice (Got it in just in the nick of time, beating the deadline by less than fifteen minutes!)
Note: Sequel to Ash Carpenter's story Property, and you'd think I'd be able to read her stories without having to write at least two sequels, going off in different and mutually exclusive directions, to each one!
Note: I can't believe I wrote the very clichéd man-hunting-man trope.
Wesley had escorted Lindsey to the Great Hall, which was unusual in and of itself. Spike generally did Giles' dirty work. Painfully shy, bookish, awkward even though he was well into his twenties, Wesley had stopped next to what Lindsey had come to think of as The Alcove. On safer days – no day was truly safe – it held leather chairs, a few side tables, and possibly a bar where the guests could help themselves. On bad days it was curtained off providing privacy for Giles' guests while they helped themselves to something else. On that day there was no curtain to hide the bed. Lindsey had no idea how bad a sign that was.
As Wesley's gaze jerked past the bed and off of Lindsey's mottled skin, finally resting on the painting hanging just past The Alcove, his cheeks flamed red. Nodding toward the painting, he stuttered out the words “The Holly King.” Lindsey, assuming he was referring to the painting, took in yet another hunting scene with one quick glance. All the paintings in that room depicted a formal hunt, not for a fox but for a demon. The one in that painting had horns, horns that looked like the antlers of a deer, and wore a ring of holly on his head.
Wesley stood there silently, shifting from foot to foot as if upset, not that he didn't have reason to be nervous. While his life wasn't as hellish as Lindsey's, being Giles' nephew and heir did protected Wesley from the grosser forms of physical abuse, his uncle was determined to turn him into a proper man, into someone as selfish and cruel as Giles himself.
Leaning close to Lindsey, who was standing next to him, Wesley whispered, “The Oak King kills the Holly King.” As Lindsey glanced up, their eyes met. Wesley, looking bloated and pale so close up, jumped back as if hurt.
“There you are,” called out a hearty voice from the doorway. Lindsey, suddenly glad for Wesley's company, felt ashamed but the fact remained, Ethan was more interested in what he couldn't have. Wesley turned, a fake smile plastered across his face as Ethan strolled over. “You naughty boy, hardly touched your breakfast and on such an important day as well. You've been clever, I grant you that, holding your uncle at bay for six years, but you've finally run out of subterfuges, haven't you?”
“It wasn't like that,” Wesley stammered. “The ritual is too important, um, if one isn't prepared that is, and, um...” Looking down at the floor, he changed the topic, addressing Ethan's earlier comments. “I wasn't hungry. Uncle wanted Lindsey brought over,” he finished, invoking Giles like a shield, as if the man would protect his nephew from his lover.
“Anyone could have done that. Hell, I could have...” His words trailed off as he ran his hands down Lindsey's back, along the grain of the tiny scales. Reaching one hand around he lifted Lindsey's chin. “I simply can't get over how exotic he looks, and such a simple mod as well. Who'd have thought snakeskin would be so much more attractive than human skin?” Quick as a flash he grabbed Wesley's hand, pulling it toward Lindsey's arm. “Smooth as silk too. Here. Feel. Rub. Caress.”
“No,” Wesley cried with a shout, pulling his hand back. “I'm certain my uncle wouldn't want him... interfered with before the ceremony.”
“Quite right,” Giles called out from the far end of the room. He was decked out in hunter's black, much like the men in the painting. “Ethan, I'd appreciate it if you'd stop tormenting my nephew and keep you grubby hands off my property. Our guests will be arriving soon and Wesley needs to get ready.”
“My hands are quite clean, I assure you,” Ethan replied, not denying the torment.
Giles' look of derisive amusement was clear even at that distance. “You need to prepare as well. And you,” he added, his voice taking on the tone he reserved for Lindsey, that tone which suggested he thought the slave too stupid to follow even the most basic directions. “Get into your proper position. My nephew may be remiss in correcting your behavior, but I assure you nobody else in this household shall be.” Lindsey scrambled to his knees. By the time he was in position, kneeling, his hands before him, and with his head bowed toward the ground, he was alone in the room.
As guests wandered in and out of the Great Hall all day, either singly or in groups of twos and threes, Lindsey could feel their eyes on him. It was unnerving. Each and every one of them had used him at some point, which meant there was no reason for them to be so interested, but they were.
The shadows through the window had grown long by the time Spike showed up. Looking over his shoulder, he snapped his fingers at Lindsey. “Let's get you into that bed.”
Lindsey didn't move. “What's going on?”
Grabbing him by the hair, Spike yanked him off the floor. “I don't have time for this,” he hissed.
“Tell me.”
Spike glanced over his shoulder, fear clear in his eyes.
“They're at dinner,” Lindsey said. “He's not gonna be watching us now.”
Spike threw him on the bed, face down, holding him in place with what felt like a knee. “You'll know soon enough.”
Turning his head to one side, Lindsey muttered, “I want to know now.” At the familiar sensation of Spike's fingers in his ass, lubing him up and stretching him out, he added, “It's gotta be more than the usual. Not one of those assholes had a slave with him. I've never seen that before, never. What is it?”
Spike took three steps to the edge of The Alcove, glanced around the room, and then went back to Lindsey. “Danger,” he whispered. “Not just for you though.” He sat up, listening for a moment before finishing. “Times like this, they get wild, out of control. They do more damage than they mean to.”
He was gone before Lindsey could blink. “Hey,” Lindsey shouted. “Times like what?” When he realized Spike wasn't returning, Lindsey sat up, back against the headboard with his knees pulled to his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs.
As a gong sounded, he heard footsteps, slowly but steadily, making their way across the room. Wesley, a ring of holly on his head stopped at the edge of The Alcove, turning to face the doorway. He could hear Giles, from the far end of the room, near the entrance, greeting his guests, and then Wesley wasn't alone. One of the men, also dressed in hunter's black had joined him. “You'll do fine, lad,” he said before kissing Wesley firmly but somewhat awkwardly on the mouth. Wesley, clenching his hands into fists, his face as pale as the moon, visibly gulped. As the man walked off, moving into the center of the room, another took his place. His kiss was longer and passionate. Lindsey, watching with wide eyes, thought he saw his tongue slip into Wesley's mouth. Man after man after man, thirty-four in all, Lindsey kept a count, stopped to kiss Wesley before mingling in the main room until finally Ethan and Giles stood there next to his nephew.
Wesley closed his eyes as if gathering strength as Giles gestured for his lover to go first. Brushing a hand down Wesley's jawline, Ethan said, “I can't tell you how very long I've been wanting to do this, well, not this exactly, but the rest will have to wait.” As Ethan made a show of the kiss, licking the edges of Wesley's lips, he slipped a hand down, grabbing at the younger man's ass. “Ow,” he shouted, pulling his hand back, shaking it as if in pain.
“You should have known I'd put an imp on him to keep grabby hands at bay,” Giles said. Closing his eyes, he kissed his nephew gently, almost reverently, as if his lips were at the edge of something holy. Lindsey hadn't known Giles could look so pure.
With a look of reluctance, Giles left Wesley behind as he stepped into The Alcove. From a side table, he picked up a ring of oak leaves. He raised them slowly, bringing them up over his head, chanting words that Lindsey couldn't make out. As they settled on his head like a crown, a flash of gold light blinded Lindsey's vision.
When he could see again, Giles stood by the bed, a feral smile on his face. “On. Your. Back.” Giles climbed onto the bed, using more care than he ever had in Lindsey's experience. Closing his eyes, Giles rubbed his hands down Lindsey's torso, caressing skin. Lindsey froze beneath him. This was new and too strange coming from the man who'd always treated him like a tool. Cringing as Giles' hands found his cock, Lindsey waited for the pain to start. It didn't. Giles stroked him slowly, carefully, treating him like he would a lover, his fingers moving in an intricate pattern, arousing Lindsey against his will. As the hand started rubbing him faster and faster, Lindsey let out a gasp of pleasure. Giles, his eyes still closed, smiled. “Oh, good.” As the tip of his cock thrust into Lindsey's ass, Giles threw his head back, gasping out ah “Oh” of pleasure. Laying his body down on top of Lindsey's so they were chest to chest, he whispered, so quietly that nobody else could hear, “Wesley.” Lindsey scanned Giles' face, looking for any clue to the man's thoughts, but saw only bliss. This wasn't the man he knew. Giles thrusts were slow and sensual, his cock striking Lindsey's prostate with a precision that had Lindsey pulling at the sheets, grabbing them with both hands as he arched up to meet Giles' cock. Pulling Lindsey closer, rubbing his torso against Lindsey's cock, Giles increased the pressure until Lindsey came with a shout, and then Giles came as well, shooting his seed into Lindsey's ass.
Without looking at Lindsey, Giles stood, zipped his pants, and approached the crowd. Ethan, wearing a leer, stepped into The Alcove. As Giles removed the oak leaf ring from his own head, placing it on Ethan's, Lindsey noticed the men were eying him speculatively. Ethan, moving with a sensuous grace, almost danced his way to the bed. “Do be a dear and unzip this for me.” As Lindsey pulled down the zipper, it hit him. One by one each and every man in the room would don the oak leaves and fuck him.
What was it Wesley had said. “The Oak King kills the Holly King.” So, what did that mean? All the men were the Oak King or was it just Giles? If Wesley was the Holly King, how did Lindsey fit in? And that didn't make sense. Wesley was Giles' heir. While Giles was an absolute bastard, Lindsey couldn't see him killing Wesley.
“Hey,” Lindsey shouted out as Ethan tweaked his nipples viciously.
“Don't zone out on me boy.” Leaning down he whispered, “Ripper may have used you to fulfill a very interesting fantasy,” he said, glancing up, leering toward Wesley, “but I don't mind waiting until I've got my hands on him. I have no problem hurting you.” Lindsey desperately wanted to close his eyes, to turn his head from the truth of those words, but he knew Ethan would go all the harder on him if he did. “Good,” Ethan said in his normal voice as he sat back up. Glancing toward at the crowd, he called out, “It's going to be a long night.” Ethan grinned as a few of the men chuckled in response.
Each man blurred into the next until all Lindsey could see were the oak leaves shifting from above him to behind him to under him as each man shoved him into a different position. He was on all fours, his arms trembling with the effort of keeping himself upright, when he heard the gong sounding out three times and then Giles' voice saying, “Sit him up.” Lindsey winced as two of the men rolled him over, forcing him to kneel on the bed with a quick but needless efficiency. He would have moved himself if they'd given him the chance.
At the edge of The Alcove, Giles was staring at Wesley, an almost tender look on his face as he removed the holly ring from Wesley's head and handed it to Ethan who, after carrying it to the bed, jammed it onto Lindsey's head, pushing the spikes in until blood ran down his face. Placing the oak leaves on Wesley's crown, Giles kissed him and said, “This you must do to become a man.”
Wesley's eyes were dark against his pale skin as he approached the bed, trying to move with dignity but looking as if he were terrified. As Giles stepped up, joining him and Ethan at the side of the bed, Wesley stammered, “I don't know if I can.”
Gracefully twisting his hand to point toward Wesley, Ethan asked Giles, “May I?”
“I've removed the imp,” Giles replied. “For now,” he added with a stern look.
As Ethan unzipped his pants, Wesley jumped back, plastering himself against his uncle. Giles, his face a mask of pure bliss, gasped in pleasure. Grabbing Wesley by the hips, Giles held him still as Ethan rubbed his hand along the Wesley's cock, working his thumb around the head and down the vein. “Of course you can,” Ethan purred. “We'll just get you nice and hard and there'll be no problem at all.” As Ethan held out his hand, one of the other men, one of the two who had sat Lindsey up earlier, poured lube into the palm. “This'll make it easier on you,” Ethan crooned, rubbing the lube onto Wesley's cock, which jutted up against his hand, standing tall and firm.
At Giles' nod the two men grabbed Lindsey, picking him up and pulling at his legs until he was on his back, his knees bent into the air. “Do it,” Giles ordered. Wesley clambered awkwardly onto the bed. Placing his cock against Lindsey's ass, he looked up at Giles, his eyes wide as if begging for... Lindsey didn't know what he wanted. Most likely to be out of there but it could have been approval he needed. Giles nodded and Wesley, squeezing his eyes shut, pushed himself into Lindsey.
Compared to what the other men had put him through, the pain was barely noticeable, but seeing the look on Wesley's face, knowing that he himself was at the center of this desecration Giles was putting the man through, Lindsey clenched his ass, trying to push him back out. It was the wrong thing to do. Wesley gasped. As he realized it was from the pleasure of his ass tightening around his cock, Lindsey turned his head away only to see Ethan oiling up Giles' middle finger.
Lindsey's gaze followed Giles' hand as it trailed over Wesley's head and down to his neck and shoulder. Wesley looked like he was working, as if fucking were a struggle, his thrusts arrhythmic and awkwardly timed. Ethan's eyes glittered as Giles' hand moved down Wesley's back. There were three more thrusts and suddenly Wesley let out a shout, looking almost terrified. “Shhh,” Ethan urged. “It's one little finger, just to help you along.” After two more thrusts, Wesley let out a gasp and then a scream as his arms went rigid and his face contorted.
Collapsing against the bed, assuming his part was done, Lindsey breathed a sigh of relief as the men, cheering, clapped Wesley on the shoulder as they led him out into the main room. “Up,” he heard Giles say. Lindsey, moving even before his conscious mind understood what he'd heard, winced as he stood, barely able to handle the pain.