Disclaimers: If they were ours, they wouldn't need reasons. We'd
make them come up with a few anyway, just for the fuck of it,
but they wouldn't *need* them.

Spoilers: Nope.

Series: Angel

Summary: Wesley and Angel TCB.

Archive: Sure, just let us know if it's not UCSL.

Ratings Note: NC-17 for language and smut.

Acknowledgments: To Dawn Sharon, of course, for audiencing,
encouragement, and helpful suggestions...

*

"Given what's come before, perhaps we should keep this... casual."

And a part of Angel wants to take that as just another sign of
How Far Wesley Has Come. With the unspoken, half-thought /under
my tutelage/ an easy lurker. But that would be ignoring the
context:

Wesley, prowling around his bedroom, less self-consciously with
every item of clothing he removes. The glasses are on his bookshelf,
hopelessly stained suit jacket and shirt on the floor. Wesley is naked
to the waist, studying everything with an eye either critical or blind.

It's hard to tell.

Irrelevant.

Angel himself is fully dressed, still and watching Wesley move. And
the motion that he should be cataloging as nervousness comes across
less as anxiety as... claiming.

And this was never something he, Angel, had taught.

Wesley pauses, half-turned, smiling at him. "Well, Angel? Will that
do?"

"Just fine."

And the words are out before he can temper them with... with
whatever he was supposed to temper them. Humor, perhaps, to mask
the abruptness.

Wesley just nods, looks down a moment at his belt before attacking
it with simple, efficient movements. He turns a dark little smile on
Angel as he undoes the zipper, lets the pants fall to reveal simple
white boxer briefs. And the look is somewhere between impossibly
sexy and... prim. No billboard model, but certainly... sexy.

Just sexy, but still nothing compared to the way this had started.
Restless night, Cordelia off with someone who could become a
Connection, decision to patrol. Tiga demons in a pack and it had
been... routine.

Filthy-making and occasionally too exciting, but routine. And they'd
come back here, and Wesley had followed him down. Living in Angel's
silence.

And the minute Angel had opened his mouth to offer Wesley the
shower there'd been a demanding hand on his crotch and a tongue in
his mouth. Shocking and intense, no words from either of them and it
had been so *long* since anyone had touched Angel like that.
Aggressive and presumptuous, viciously unsubtle, and Angel had
responded in kind and Wesley's ass was just as round and tight as it
looked and Wesley's cock was as hard as it should be.

And Wesley had broken the kiss with a tiny smile, and led Angel into
his own bedroom.

Yeah, definitely less self conscious, because the smile becomes a little
darker as the boxers are simply and efficiently pushed down and kicked
aside.  And Wesley merely cocks his head a little, looks at Angel and
simply says, "Well?"

Angel pauses for a moment and just looks, because all shades of
primness are gone now.  Just Wesley, standing lean and hard and naked
in front of him, one hand dangling easily at his side, the other lightly
rubbing the smooth skin of his abdomen.  Wesley looks -- yes, sexy.

Different.

Like maybe the real Wesley can only come out to play when the clothes
are gone, because *this* Wesley doesn't fidget under Angel's stare.
Just gives a pointed stare of his own at Angel's clothing and lets his
hand drift a little lower.

Point taken.  Angel shrugs out of his torn and stained jacket, lets it
fall to floor and keeps watching Wesley gently tease himself.

Long, elegant fingers just tracing the head of his cock now and Angel
doesn't even try to unbutton the tattered remnants of his shirt but
just finds a rip and tugs until the whole thing falls off.

But that's okay, because the theme tonight seems to be: simple and
straightforward.  Casual.  He can do that.

Ceremony only gets him in trouble. And he wants to laugh, but the
feeling doesn't last. Wesley's cock... and the thought -- and just what
does he intend to do with it, now? And yes, Angel can see the point of
being naked.

Peeling off leather for someone else's approving eye. Being naked
makes him... more in those eyes, and perhaps there was something
similar --

Wesley brushes him deliberately as he moves past. Behind. Steady
tracing, caressing hand on his thighs, his ass. Long scholar's fingers,
still only slightly callused from all the weapons play.

Closer now, Wesley's cock pressed against his hip, mouth on his
shoulder, neck, wet and slow and finally up to his ear.

"Your skin is lovely, Angel."

What? "OK."

Ticklish laugh against his skin. He doesn't have to feel it, knows how
to control little things like that, but he does anyway. Lets it make
him shiver.

"I've wanted to touch you for a long, long time."

Hands walking, skimming up around his balls now. Hefting them, shifting
them, moving past to caress his cock and Angel abruptly wants to be
tied, manacled to the ceiling, stretched out and available for touch and
it makes him shiver again.

Wesley here and now Wesley in the fantasy, too. Frightening twinning,
to have body and mind agree, close to the danger -- "Wes --"

"On the bed, Angel. I want to fuck your mouth."

And it ties in so well with the fantasy that Angel allows himself one
more shiver, then simply nods.  Because body and mind, and apparently
Wesley, are all in accord.

He steps away from the heat of Wesley's body and gets on the bed.
On his back, arms over his head.  Looks at Wesley.  Waiting.

No dark smile anymore.  Just hot, hard eyes.  Definitely wandering
into dangerous waters here because Wesley looks hungry and deadly
serious.

Another shiver and a lick at his lips and Wesley moves to the bed.
Climbs on.  Straddles his chest and treats him to another aggressive
kiss, hard and wet.

Then Wesley pulls away and the mattress shifts a little and he can
 smell Wesley's arousal right *there*.  Warm musk and the sharper
tang of pre-come hovering just over his mouth.

It seems right and natural to lift his head, to part his moistened
lips and say, "Please."

Wesley nudges forward just as he licks his lips again, lets him lap a
little at the head and Angel groans at the salty, sweetly bitter
taste, almost as good as blood.

Just a moment to appreciate it, to roll it around on his tongue and
he swallows.  Reaches out with the tip of his tongue, traces over
the head, probes the small opening.  Wants more.  Wants it all.  Sucks
a little and lifts his head and--

"Angel.  Look at me."  Wesley's voice hard and a little ragged, but
nonetheless compelling.  A voice to be obeyed.

Disciplined despite the blood-dark -- and Angel surges at the
thought, memories, need -- cock before him and Angel looks up.
Wesley's eyes don't seem much darker than they always are, and it's
another thought to file away. Look at him more, get close enough to
smell the whole of him under the high singing call of blood.

Angel wants to know when Wesley's aroused, when he can get *this*,
a look boring down into his own that may or may not understand a
thing, even a fraction of what Angel wants.

And maybe doesn't particularly care.

Outside, they are associates, brothers in medieval arms -- almost.

In here, Wesley wants him, and has him, with a hungrily focused
stare, unblinking as he guides his cock to Angel's lips again.

And pushes.

And Angel doesn't close his eyes, lets himself be this, here, mouth
open and alive maybe *only* for this. Watches Wesley understand --
it's in the widening of his eyes and the way his lips part. Not
swollen enough, wants to bite them, wants this even more.

Wesley braces himself above Angel, grabs hold of the headboard and
*thrusts*, no warning and Angel takes it down his throat oh yes
that feeling is greed. Simple and old and dirty as the way Wesley
shudders when he swallows, the way the control disintegrates beyond
repair into sharp ragged pushes and Angel lets his eyes close then.

Angles his neck back and the next stroke makes his cock *ache*, so
deep and Wesley makes a noise. Indefinable, somewhere between a
gasp and a moan and a yell and lets loose, hard and fast and utterly
careless of him and Angel revels, God, yes, fuck me and he's groaning
around the cock in his mouth and grabbing at his own cock but

"*Fuck* --"

And Wesley's coming, hot as blood, burning like acid somewhere
Angel is not and Angel sucks hard, working Wesley through it until
he pulls away.

Away and for a second, Angel thinks Wesley's going to leave him
like this.  But no, he merely slides along Angel's side and leans over
him.  Looks down at him with eyes still just as hard and hungry as
they were before.  And something in that look makes Angel's hands
stop their desperate pulling at his cock.

Because Wesley's running this party.

"I told you.  I want to touch you."

"Then touch me."

A lighter look, then, familiar and pleased. Coming down on him with
a kiss far too gentle for the ache of his cock. Deliberate and thorough
and... more than just control. /Oh, Wes.../ Hot hand on his cheek,
sliding up through his hair and tugging, just a little, before coming
back down to rest on his throat.

Brush of fingertips in a breath Angel consciously shares, nose to nose
and neither of the have their eyes completely closed -- Wesley's are
just open enough to reveal the same liquid shine. Wesley's body is
loose beside him, relaxed and there's something like the hint of pliancy
in the brush of long, lean thighs against his own.

Angel wants another chance at this and has no idea if he'll get it. Kiss
and breathe and kiss and touch and Angel lets himself fall into it.

Wesley wants to make love to him, that much is clear, the tenderness
after a great fuck, maybe. Or the apology. Or the vast and deep
desire for friendship written in every angle and roundness of his face.
Or just this, here, and there are, somewhere, enough barely coherent
reasons Angel can allow himself this.

Or maybe it's just *this* feeling : Most human with each helpless,
rolling wave of desire that makes him arch up into the touch. And
perhaps, on some nights, any touch at all. Runs a hand over the clean
lines of Wesley's back, the barest touch of muscles rippling in his
wake.

"Angel, please --" Bit off quickly, kissed off into Angel's mouth.
Deeper now, insistent. Kiss of promise and yes, to be made love to by
an adult, already confident in himself... or at least in his abilities to
promise without words.

Breath and pause, as though he would say something after all, but
Wesley just moved to Angel's throat, kissed him there too softly,
hands moving up and down his arms. Licks, steady slanted strokes with
his tongue that make Angel grunt, offer more of his own throat. The
weight of symbolism is momentarily easy to ignore, fingers tangled
together, Wesley's hot, wet mouth all over his throat and moving lower.

Wesley on top of him now, letting Angel thrust up against smooth,
sweaty skin but not offering in any way to better his own position and
Angel *wants*. Fuck Wesley's small, pretty nipples hard, his mouth raw,
his ass just sore enough and -- ah -- vicious bite to his own nipple,
again and again, faster with each bite until the sensation is sort of a
steady shock and Angel writhes, shifting them both, and suddenly there's
a hard, hair-scratchy thigh right where he needs it --

"Oh..."

"Angel, you're beautiful like this --"

Nudges his thighs further apart and moves down, down, slickly
perfunctory kisses to his abdomen, tongue in his navel licking down
down oh god feel of stubble against his shaft and Wesley has him in
hand. Firm hold contrasting with the restless brush of fingertips and

Wet.

Soft.

Slick, so slick and moving down on him, fast little jerks, more like being
struck than sucked and one hand pumping the base of his cock and Angel
leans up to watch Wesley kissing his own fist again and again and Angel
has never, ever understood the point of taking a blowjob 'like a man.'

No reason not to thrust, no reason not to cry out for more and Wesley
is there, answering all of it, focused entirely on bringing Angel off,
drooling a little and moving his whole body with it, free hand stroking
and squeezing and scratching at his thigh and *groans* around his cock
and Angel can't -- *can't*.

Pulls out before he can break Wesley's jaw raping his mouth and jerks
himself fast and raw and Wesley looks so fucking *dazed*, reaches out
for him again and just the thought of the gentle and oh fuck loving
touch and Angel needs to needs to oh *fuck* just have him and he comes
hard with a grunt, catching Wesley on the chest and throat before he
can make contact and the sight makes him shudder.

Opens his eyes a half-second later to Wesley scooping two fingers-full
up, sucking them in with blush-faced relish before making slow
eye-contact. Lets them go with a wet pop and runs them down the center
of Angel's chest. Looks down to find Wesley hard again.

And knows this was just to take the edge off.

End.