![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sherydenTitle: Connection
Authorsheryden
Word Count: 651
Rating: PG
Fandom: Angel the Series
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Neither Lindsey nor his evil hand belong to me.
Summary: Lindsey is fascinated by his newly attached hand.
Author's Notes: Written for![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
kink_bingo for the prompt "body alteration/injury."
Lindsey stood in front of the bathroom mirror, just as he did every morning. His face was smooth and unblemished save for a stray dot of shaving cream that he’d missed when giving his face a once-over with a razor. With a slow, steady movement, Lindsey ran his index finger over his skin to wipe off the remaining cream.
The finger was long and soft, and the nail probably needed a trim. Biting his bottom lip, Lindsey ran his finger under the water to wash off the cream, then he held both his hands up to the light and took a good look at them. He’d trimmed the nails on his left hand only days before, and they still looked neat and well-maintained. The nails on his right hand, though, were a hair longer than he generally liked. They weren’t unsightly by any means, but Lindsey was accustomed to grooming himself meticulously. Not that he’d need to worry about appearance now that he’d left the firm.
Of course, he was grateful that there were fingers with nails that needed trimmed in the first place. Only a week before, there had been a stump, courtesy of Angel, where his new right hand was now. And then Wolfram and Hart had gifted him with a brand new appendage—a hand with five fingers and a solid grip. Even though only a few days had passed, Lindsey could barely remember what the stump had looked like, or how it had felt when he’d awakened in the morning and had used it to turn off his radio.
Closing his eyes, he laid the warm hand on his cheek. He was fascinated by the feel of it. As far as he could tell, there really wasn't a discernible difference between his two appendages. But the fact that only a week before it hadn't been there made its touch send sparks through the rest of his body.
He gazed down at the telltale scar that was coiled around his right wrist. When he’d first returned home after the surgery to attach his hand, he’d been almost as captivated by the scar as by his new appendage. It was the only visible sign that he’d ever had an injury of any significance, and he hoped it didn’t fade much, because he wanted a reminder of everything Angel had put him through.
Letting out a breath, Lindsey walked out of the bathroom and collapsed onto his hotel bed. Closing his eyes, he laid his right hand on his bare chest and gently traced a pattern along his upper body. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the sensation of skin on skin. It wasn’t lost on him that technically speaking, someone else’s fingers were caressing his body. And he wasn’t gonna lie—he found that connection tantalizing.
“Who are you?” Lindsey had asked his new hand that question shortly after it had been attached. It had been a valid question at the time, considering that same hand had started to act of its own accord during a business meeting earlier in the day.
Now he knew the answer—the hand had belonged to Bradley Scott. Brad. Brad from the mail room. Brad who he’d gone out for drinks with a couple of times. Brad who was now dead and gone, a victim of the ruthless law firm for which they had both worked. Up until a week ago, Lindsey hadn’t thought about Brad in years. If someone would have brought him up in conversation, Lindsey more than likely would have struggled to remember his face. But now, he felt closer to Brad than anyone else on the planet. It was a reasonable feeling, he supposed. He carried a part of Brad with him now. His hand—their hand.
Once, when they’d gone out for drinks, Brad had told him he needed a life. Brad had shook his head and said that Lindsey spent too much time alone, that he was bound to turn into a bitter old man if he didn’t find himself a companion. “Well Brad,” he whispered, as he ran his hand along the sensitive skin of his neck. “Looks like I’m not alone now. I guess have you.”
Author
sherydenWord Count: 651
Rating: PG
Fandom: Angel the Series
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Neither Lindsey nor his evil hand belong to me.
Summary: Lindsey is fascinated by his newly attached hand.
Author's Notes: Written for
kink_bingo for the prompt "body alteration/injury."Lindsey stood in front of the bathroom mirror, just as he did every morning. His face was smooth and unblemished save for a stray dot of shaving cream that he’d missed when giving his face a once-over with a razor. With a slow, steady movement, Lindsey ran his index finger over his skin to wipe off the remaining cream.
The finger was long and soft, and the nail probably needed a trim. Biting his bottom lip, Lindsey ran his finger under the water to wash off the cream, then he held both his hands up to the light and took a good look at them. He’d trimmed the nails on his left hand only days before, and they still looked neat and well-maintained. The nails on his right hand, though, were a hair longer than he generally liked. They weren’t unsightly by any means, but Lindsey was accustomed to grooming himself meticulously. Not that he’d need to worry about appearance now that he’d left the firm.
Of course, he was grateful that there were fingers with nails that needed trimmed in the first place. Only a week before, there had been a stump, courtesy of Angel, where his new right hand was now. And then Wolfram and Hart had gifted him with a brand new appendage—a hand with five fingers and a solid grip. Even though only a few days had passed, Lindsey could barely remember what the stump had looked like, or how it had felt when he’d awakened in the morning and had used it to turn off his radio.
Closing his eyes, he laid the warm hand on his cheek. He was fascinated by the feel of it. As far as he could tell, there really wasn't a discernible difference between his two appendages. But the fact that only a week before it hadn't been there made its touch send sparks through the rest of his body.
He gazed down at the telltale scar that was coiled around his right wrist. When he’d first returned home after the surgery to attach his hand, he’d been almost as captivated by the scar as by his new appendage. It was the only visible sign that he’d ever had an injury of any significance, and he hoped it didn’t fade much, because he wanted a reminder of everything Angel had put him through.
Letting out a breath, Lindsey walked out of the bathroom and collapsed onto his hotel bed. Closing his eyes, he laid his right hand on his bare chest and gently traced a pattern along his upper body. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the sensation of skin on skin. It wasn’t lost on him that technically speaking, someone else’s fingers were caressing his body. And he wasn’t gonna lie—he found that connection tantalizing.
“Who are you?” Lindsey had asked his new hand that question shortly after it had been attached. It had been a valid question at the time, considering that same hand had started to act of its own accord during a business meeting earlier in the day.
Now he knew the answer—the hand had belonged to Bradley Scott. Brad. Brad from the mail room. Brad who he’d gone out for drinks with a couple of times. Brad who was now dead and gone, a victim of the ruthless law firm for which they had both worked. Up until a week ago, Lindsey hadn’t thought about Brad in years. If someone would have brought him up in conversation, Lindsey more than likely would have struggled to remember his face. But now, he felt closer to Brad than anyone else on the planet. It was a reasonable feeling, he supposed. He carried a part of Brad with him now. His hand—their hand.
Once, when they’d gone out for drinks, Brad had told him he needed a life. Brad had shook his head and said that Lindsey spent too much time alone, that he was bound to turn into a bitter old man if he didn’t find himself a companion. “Well Brad,” he whispered, as he ran his hand along the sensitive skin of his neck. “Looks like I’m not alone now. I guess have you.”
no subject
Date: 2011-09-07 06:28 am (UTC)technically speaking, someone else’s fingers were caressing his body. And he wasn’t gonna lie—he found that connection tantalizing Well it is kink bingo :D Great use of the prompt.
“Well Brad,” he whispered, as he ran his hand along the sensitive skin of his neck. “Looks like I’m not alone now. I guess have you.” That last line... I can't find the right words for all the emotions embedded there. Wonderful.