This story belongs to me, but these characters don't; sadly, the ever-sexy David Boreanaz and Alexis Denisof also do not. The whole shebang belongs to Joss Whedon, David Greenwalt, and Mutant Enemy and Kuzui Productions and Fox and the WB. I'm making no profit here, not even a few pennies. My only profit is reader satisfaction. If you are under 18 or the age of consent in your area, you should not read this.
This is set during last season, before all the mess with the baby and Cordelia/Angel. I hope you enjoy.
Angel had watched Wesley make several trips to the liquor cabinet as the night passed. The last few months of losing his girlfriend, being shot, being paralyzed, and Angel unofficially resuming his role as leader of their private investigation firm had taken their toll.
As grudging allies back in Sunnydale, Angel had seen Wesley as an incompetent dictator with irritating, clipped British tones. As friends here in LA, Angel had long appreciated Wesley for his quiet determination in battle, his vast knowledge of languages and spells. He was the backbone of their team.
Wesley starchly stood, posture intact, walking to a nearby decanter for another helping of wine, and Angel thought of the Wesley Wyndham-Price attributes too few noticed. His shy smile, growing self-consciously broad when met with praise. His nimble, elegant fingers, fingers on hands still soft to the touch no matter how many demons they faced. His lean, lithe body, maintained through the rigor of their daily turmoils.
Angel had seen many hot bodies, in various states of dress and mortality, and knew enough to not make choices based on such superficiality. He was more attracted to Wesley's intellect, to Wesley's sly humor, to...well, the tight ass was a factor as well. He knew Wesley was attracted to him too, a simmering, puppy-dog adoration that had become an unspoken barrier in their friendship months ago.
And now his former friend was on his third scotch on the rocks, probably unable to handle a fourth. Angel quietly stepped into Wesley's office, tapping on the door as he did.
"Can I come in?", he said, his head cocked to the side.
Wesley smiled faintly, as if he had to slay dragons to move his mouth muscles.
"I'm surprised you bothered to ask", he sighed more than spoke.
Taking a few nervous footfalls into the dimly lit room, Angel leaned against Wesley's cluttered desk.
"What is it that you want?"
Pursed lips, sad crystalline eyes shining dully through Wesley's glasses.
"I want us to be friends again. Remember? Pals? Compadres?"
Wesley...smirked.
"Friends. Of course."
Now Angel sighed.
"Seriously."
A bitter laugh emerged from Wesley's brown-shirted chest as he laid his pen beside his notepad, half-full with a random translation.
"When are we not serious, Angel? Was that when you decided to become happy, after abandoning Cordelia and Gunn and countless victims because you didn't feel especially heroic? Is that how this works? Please, tell me how to behave to fit your standards. I gave up understanding the Angel codex when..."
Wesley stopped himself in mid-sentence, swallowing a lump in his throat which reminded him he had always been a melancholy drunk. Suddenly, he felt Angel's hands on his shoulders, Angel's crotch behind his head, and quickly drowned in a wave of guilt-ridden desire.
"When I broke your heart."
Squinting his eyes shut to try and block the softly-spoken words from his mind, Wesley jerked out of Angel's grasp.
"No, when you betrayed my trust. Now please, leave me alone."
"Wes..."
"I said leave me alone!"
Wesley stormed from the room with Angel quickly behind him, footsteps muted by the carpeting in the wide lobby. As Wesley neared the staircase, trying to go anywhere to get away, Angel grabbed his arm.
"Let go of my arm."
Ignoring the muted anger in Wesley's steely voice, Angel pinned him to the wall, their chests pressed together. Wesley averted his eyes from the laserlike stare.
"Wesley. Wes, just tell me your problems. Tell me anything."
Struggling in Angel's arms, a shot of liquid courage soared through Wesley's veins as Angel shook him. He violently shoved Angel away, Angel toppling against the bottom stairs.
Wesley shook his head, trying to clear his cobwebbed mind, but he had nothing but pain, nothing to give or debate.
"I..."
No. No more lies, no more protecting-humanity secrets.
"I loved you. I loved you, I wanted you, and I could never have you. Yet, I accepted this tro...tom...damn...pain, supported your quest even when YOU no longer seemed to care. You betrayed that, you betrayed my devotion for an obsession with darkness."
Angel refused to look at him now, wearing a dejected expression, not shock or disgust. Catching his breath from the long-winded speech, Wesley nearly began again when Angel lifted his head from falling against his chest.
"I know that was wrong now. I'm sorry. I - "
A fit of rage enveloping his entire frame, Wesley kicked at Angel, hating this place, himself, the man sitting below him, superior as always.
"You're sorry? That makes everything better, hmm?"
Fumbling with the buttons, Wesley removed his shirt, draping it across the bannister as he ran a trembling hand across his flat stomach.
"Make this better, Angel."
Leaning forward from his perch on the stairs, Angel tentatively touched the deep surgical scar, Wesley's flinching from the cold fingers showing Angel what his reaction, his pain must have been when he was shot by the zombie cops. So much pain in such a short life, so little pleasure. Angel knew what he had to do. No, what he wanted to do.
Shifting his hand, Angel grabbed and tugged Wesley by the belt buckle, catching the unsteady man in his arms, carressing his rigid back.
"I'm sorry. That's all I can say. I can show you how much I..."
Wesley pushed against Angel's massive chest, trying to break away even as water flooded his eyes.
"Pity me?"
Shaking his head, Angel bent his head down, licking a salty tear from Wesley's cheek, softly whispering in his ear.
"Love you."
Wesley shuddered, more comfortable, nearly helpless, in Angel's arms, letting the stronger man kiss his neck and face. He had always wondered what it would be like, being taken by Angel, but the consequences...Angel's curse made happiness impossible...
As Wesley began to squirm, Angel cupped his trouser-encased crotch, biting the lobe caught between his sharp teeth, growling in Wesley's ear.
"Wesley...fuck the consequences."
Slowly, Wesley nodded, whimpering as Angel suckled his neck, traced his huge hands across sensitive, small pink nipples. He ran his hands across Angel's muscled torso, Angel biting at Wesley's chin, nipping his lower lip until the skin was pouty and flustered from attention. A skilled tongue invading, exploring his mouth, Wesley ripped open Angel's black shirt, buttons flying across the stairs and clattering to the floor.
Angel chuckled as his hand explored the contents of Wesley's now-unzipped pants. Grunting, Wesley shifted, unfastening his belt as Angel freed the hardening prick, lips returning to Wesley's chest to tease his inflamed nubs.
The staircase seemed cramped, anyone could walk in the front door, yet Wesley complied when Angel laid him on the stairs, yanking down the obstructive trousers and white briefs as he dipped his head down, scratching and kneading Wesley's tight ball sac as his tongue traced along the purple veins of Wesley's 7 inch, cut staff.
"You're circumcised?"
Wesley looked down hazily at the large figure nipping at the root of his shaft, gliding his tongue up to tease the piss slit and scar of circumcision.
"unnnnhh....health...reasons....oh Gooooodd...."
Angel smiled wickedly as he flicked his tongue inside the slit, spreading Wesley's legs to reveal his leanly muscled thighs. Unzipping his slacks, Angel freed himself even as he slid his thumb outside Wesley's tight, puckering anus ring.
"Been a while, huh Wes?"
He laughed as Wesley gasped from the pressure and pleasure, blushing at the memories of Rupert Giles's thick slab of meat invading him over and over, making him beg for more as Wesley's hands remained handcuffed against onto the headboard, Rupert refusing to milk his submissive's enraged, engorged cock...
"Yes, a while." Wesley whispered as he cleared his head, Angel running his fat, uncut monster against Wesley's thigh, precum pooling into the hairs on his legs.
Wesley wasn't sure whether to gasp over the muscles of Angel's thighs, the skill of the fingers pushing in and out of his rectum, or the satisfied smirk on his face as he began sliding the foreskin of his 9-inch penis over Wesley's twitching erection.
Leaning closer above him, Angel covered the entire head of Wesley's penis with the fleshy sheath, both men moaning at the cocoon, Wesley startled at the sounds from his mouth as Angel licked the sweat from his arms, traveling lower to taste and smell the musk of his armpits, still sliding up and down, up and down on Wesley's imprisoned sword. As he panted, head shifting from side to side at the fingers in his arse, the stimulation to his sheened body, the foreskin, the hunk of his fantasies towering over him, watching his every motion, Angel lurched forward, tongue wet in Wesley's ear.
"Cum for Daddy."
Wesley quietly exploded, losing all oxygen supply as his brain disconnected, his mind tripping over untold galaxies as his ejaculating penis jerked, shooting stream after stream into the tight cage of Angel's horse flesh. Angel matched Wesley's soft moans with louder yells, continuing to pump Wesley's convulsing body as their semen joined, both men producing load after load until they collapsed in each other's arms.
Angel licked the perspiration from Wesley's forehead.
Wesley wearily sighed, almost fearful. Angel had to laugh.
"Guess what baby?"
Apprehensive of the maniacal gleam in Angel's eyes, Wesley paused before taking another breath.
"I'm not Angelus! I'm still me."
Wesley released a relieved breath, as happy as he had ever been in his whole life. After several minutes of silence, he whispered into the arm cradling him.
"That was..."
Angel placed a thumb against his lips, which Wesley couldn't help biting.
"Don't talk when your mouth's full."
"What?"
Disconnecting their cocks with a gooey sound, Angel moved his flaccid organ up Wesley's exhausted, taut body, cum slobbering onto his torso, neck, and chin until the life juices dribbled above Wesley's face. Feeling the droplets hit his glasses - how he had kept his glasses on so long without breaking them was a mystery - and cheeks, Wesley lifted his head up, chewing and exploring the sensitive folds as Angel held his head, fingers stroking his hair as he purred approvingly, free hand pumping the remains of the load from Wesley's spent cock, moving into his torn shirt and sliding the sperm onto his own quarter-sized nipples, erect from the chill in the room.
Eventually, Angel could take no more of the pain/pleasure and tenderly took Wesley's head into his hands. Wesley sighed, licking Angel's sticky fingers as his head pressed against Angel's chest. Putting his ear where the heartbeat wouldn't be, Wesley lazily kissed the broad pecs of one of the finest specimens of man he had ever encountered, until sleep finally overtook him.
Angel smiled down at his new lover, at both of their brief moments of joy in this life. Then he carried him to his bed - their bed - and joined him in his sated, blissful sleep.
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I will make this a series if there's a strong response. Any story ideas? Want any appearances by Gunn, Doyle, Lindsey, Lorne, anyone from Buffy? Any comments at all?