Overdue
by Te
October 2000

Disclaimers: If they were mine, there'd be convenient interludes
between world-saving and bouts of existential angst.

Fandom: Angel

Spoilers: All of the Gunn eps.

Summary: The axe, some secrets that aren't, and smut.

Author's Note/Acknowledgments: To Sheila for getting me started,
and then inspiring me to finish it with "Done." And to my sweet Brain,
who are indulgent with my whims. Oh, and thank Debba for the
title. We loves her.

Feedback: Pretty please? teland793@sbcglobal.net

Extra note: This has nothing to do with "Easy."

*
 

The secrets are right there with them. Something about arc sodium --
it just bleeds everything out, lays it down on asphalt just as big and
bold as you like.

Gunn likes his damned axe. It's been reinforced, it's balanced just
right, and while the hubcap holes in the blade add drag, it's not
enough to mess with his swing. And there ain't nothing wrong with
his swing.

That's sitting right there between them, in that nothing space where
Wesley's shoulderblade is just about to dig into Gunn's spine, where
Gunn's elbow is about to come in wide to avoid Wesley's waist.

So Wesley not only knows how Gunn feels about the axe, about the
way even the most practical gift can make you soft inside, he also knows
exactly how much it pissed Gunn off -- hurt him, even, to have it
so obviously dismissed.

It's doing the damn job on these vampires. He's already separated one
from its head, and it won't be long before this one gives up on its
diced up legs and falls down so Gunn can stake it with the axe handle.

There's nothing wrong with the axe, and Gunn *knows* Wes can feel
him thinking that. Maybe something in the shift of his shoulders.

But there are other secrets, too, and thankfully not his. Wesley's got
his own home-made axe thing going on. Killing demons, surviving torture,
coming up with enough obscure shit to save *all* their asses, and he's
walking around like the high school loser.

It pisses Gunn off. Made him wonder, at first, if the guy was just
crying for attention. Drama queen in pastels, Lord fucking *save*
him.... but it's been enough time to know it's real.

Gunn gives up on the axe for just long enough to kick the vamp in the
balls. *That* takes him down, and one more kick leaves him open for
staking.

Good enough.

Finds a lamp post to lean against while Wesley finishes off his own.
Someone, *somewhere* taught the man how to fight dirty. Gunn
adds a little commentary to his casual lean which makes Wesley flush
and go after the vamp harder, finally just tripping it and slamming
the stake down through its eight ball jacket.

Which thankfully dusts itself with the vamp. Talk about *played*.
Damn.

"Why, Gunn, no comments on my form?"

"Fishin' for compliments?"

Doesn't know what makes Wesley stammer more, the comment or the
exaggerated leer that goes with it, and, yeah, maybe that's a little
fucked up, because Wesley's other secret ain't no secret at all.

No need to question why *he's* fighting the good fight with Angel,
and it's sad, and kind of sweet, but mostly just *sad*.

Crushing on a straight guy is sad. Crushing on a 200 year old Undead
straight guy who goes psycho when he gets laid is just *painful*.

Walking back to Gunn's truck, since that little trick move in the
warehouse put Wesley's bike in the shop. Mostly silent in a way
Gunn thinks he should probably pay attention to, but, for the
moment, he's stuck in his own head. Still,

"Hotel or your place?"

"My apartment, please, I need to fetch a few more stakes."

"Expectin' a fang party?"

"You never know."

Prim little boy scout voice, as if he's never cursed someone out or
got his dick sucked. And it *is* close to the real Wesley, probably,
but Gunn thinks the real Wesley doesn't need to draw himself up and
shutter his eyes before speaking.

Reciting. Textbook Watcher, maybe.

Something dry and dusty and way too important to ignore. Wonders
how much›Wesley relaxes when he's *not* fighting for his life.

"I'm not a demon in disguise, Wesley."

"What?"

"You don't have to be all Doctor Van Helsing around me."

Quirked eyebrow. "I wasn't aware that I *was* being... all Van
Helsing."

"Yeah, you were."

"Excuse me?"

Gunn pulls the truck over and gives Wesley his full attention. "You
were aware."

"I really don't have any idea what you're talking about, Gunn. Now
get us back on the road, there's work to be done."

"You're doing it again."

"I am not."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm -- oh, bloody hell, what exactly is the game *this* time Gunn?
I really don't have the patience to puzzle out the workings of your
mind again."

"Not for beginners, son. And there's no game. I just want to know
where you go in your head between fights."

"That isn't even *remotely* any of your business."

"Ah, so you do admit you go somewhere."

"I... oh, all right, fine. I'm *thinking*, Gunn. Is that quite all right
with you?"

Makes a show of thinking about it. "Hmm. Yeah... yeah, I think that's
allowed."

"You think that's --" Wesley cuts himself off with a head shake and
pointedly stares out the passenger side window.

Gunn considers and throws away several different possible responses
before just turning back to the road and getting them moving.

Probably not the time to... what? Bring up Angel? Have a nice man-to-
man talk about when it's time to give it up?

Suggest they go by Gunn's place instead to work off a little adrenaline?

Heh. And no doubt whatsoever it's what he wants. Nothing like a
workout with some phallic symbols to point mind, body and soul toward
the obvious. And... it somehow feels a little overdue.

Like maybe, here he is, full member of the elite evil-fighting force,
complete with paycheck, but there hasn't been anything... and Gunn
feels like a National Geographic special for wanting this, *something*.
Some little official moment of welcome. Something like the nights
where they would all just decide it was time for a bonfire, one night
just to remember all their dead.

Pull out their favorite things that had belonged to the person and
maybe say something...
Alanna.

Still seizes him up inside. No sister anymore. No one to take care of,
stay alive for. Not that he was doing that great a job when she *was*
alive and shit.

Doesn't want to go there tonight, and he damned well *won't*. It's
just that there's something to be said for getting a little primitive
now and again. Not ethnic, necessarily, so much as *blatant*.
Something without excuses that's just *good*.

And the idea of bonding with Angel is... well, it's an interesting idea.
Definitely interesting. Maybe he'll pass the man an L or something.
Snickers to himself at the picture in his head of stoned Angel before
completely losing it at the pretty fucking *gruesome* picture in his
head of a vampire with the munchies.

It was *possible* he'd go for the Chips Ahoy, though. Good vampire
and all that. Soul. Yeah.

Snickering more and Wesley's giving him a look. Somewhere between
exasperated, suspicious, and expectantly amused and *damn* but
Gunn knows the two of them could get primitive together. Me Gunn,
you Sexy White Boy. Get a little Jungle Love and Gunn has to
pull over again because the Wesley in his head is wearing those
Great White Explorer clothes, complete with a fucking *pith
helmet* and enough's enough. Really.

Can*not* stop laughing.

Wesley's chuckling, too, now, though, which is good. He may not have
to explain himself. "Gunn, what... what has gotten *into* you?"

"Whatever happened to Morris Day, Wes?"

"Morris who?"

Too much. Too *much* and Gunn puts his head down on the wheel and
the horn makes him jump back and Wesley is barely holding on at this
point. Gunn can feel it. That one slim, small, thread of control and
finally there's something cutting through the laughter. Deep and
dark and Gunn is abruptly thankful for the fashion trends toward
baggy clothes.

And Wesley still laughing, head tilted back against the passenger
window just enough to show off his throat and Gunn thanks God
that Angel can't do a thing about this because he wants it all for
himself and --

"Oh, Gunn, I have to say I like you much more now that I know all of
that street-tough exterior hides the heart of a *lunatic*."

"You don't know the half, baby."

And yeah, Wesley's smart enough to hear the note change in Gunn's
voice and look at him, but he isn't fast enough to stop Gunn from
pouncing.

Get one kiss in, get his tongue between those conveniently parted lips
and pray he doesn't get it bit off. One hand pressing back on Wesley's
chest, the other splayed across Wesley's cheek and holding him in
place and oh, damn, but it's good.

Parked under yet another arc sodium, leaving a few more secrets on
the ground and Wesley doesn't respond and doesn't respond until
Gunn brushes his hand over Wesley's nipple and finds it a hard little
spike, peaking out his finely pressed shirt.

Wesley groans into Gunn's mouth and suddenly there are hands on
his back, skating over the top of his head, slipping between them
just enough to scrabble for purchase and they both know how to
breathe through their noses and no one's moving any way but closer
for one minute, another and it's a shock when Wesley does push
him away.

When he has to stop sucking on that wonderful, mobile tongue and
it takes Gunn a while to even think about pulling what he knows
is a stupidly dazed look off his face. It's OK, though, because they
both just... breathe. For a while.

"Gunn --"

"Come back to my place."

A pause, and Wesley's licking his lips and his eyes are wide and his
face is flushed. Pure sex and Gunn reaches down to adjust himself,
never moving his gaze from Wesley's own and.

"My flat is closer."

"Done."

Rest of the drive in silence and Wesley doesn't say one word about
Gunn's speeding which is great. Wonderful. Laughs again and it all hits
that one rich note in his chest. Used only for sex and Wesley's hand is
on his thigh and moving.

Park on the street and hope no one comes by to give him a ticket and
Wesley's out before Gunn has the engine off, walking carefully
and quickly and Gunn's right out behind. Squeezes his ass on the
landing, pulls him back against him for a moment. Just a quick little
hip dance, tight together and wanting the exact same thing.

More.

Up the rest of the stairs and Wesley doesn't fumble his keys at all.
In and Wesley slams him back up against the door. Pins Gunn there
with his arm while he does up all the locks, including the ones that
smoke, just a little.

And then a kiss. A *real* kiss. Body to body and Wes has Gunn's
wrists in his hands, pinned back and up. Whole body touching
except for the clothes, making the few brushes of skin that much
hotter. That much more necessary. Forearm to forearm, mouth
to mouth.

Slide of hipbones, almost painful and a brief battle for the same
goal and then achieved -- legs twined together and they're
both feel hard enough to cut diamond. Break out of the hold to
get even closer, touch more, get his hands back on that ass.

Wesley backing them both to what turns out to be a small, neat
bedroom. Caught in glimpses around Wesley, in the breaks for air
they haven't shared utterly. Stripping themselves and each other.
Wesley's hands at his fly. His own getting one button at a time.
Slipping in to lick and mouth at the exposed flesh. Pale skin and a
light dusting of hair down the center of his chest, hair around the
peaked reddish nipples and Gunn bites and sucks and bites.
Wesley holding his head close and humping up against Gunn, tugging at
his shirt and kneading at the muscles of Gunn's back. Hard and fast
and a little painful.

Break away long enough to get the rest of their clothes *gone* and
then has to lay out together, skin to skin, silky now but getting
sweatier. Hotter and harder, Gunn's cock spitting pre-come,
thrusting and thrusting together and getting them both slick. Wesley's
hands at Gunn's chest, twisting and pulling his nipples and --

"Oh, *fuck* yeah, Wes --"

Falling back on the double bed, Wesley on top now. Wesley's eyes
*wild* and dark, humor still dancing there.

Nothing to do with that except spread his legs and watch those
eyes get even darker. Skin on skin on black on white and Wesley's
hand on his cock is its own little revelation. Stark contrast and
Wesley's grip is firm and sure. Filed away for later study: ain't
nothing paranoid about a naked Wesley.

But the knowledge is there because this is almost *too* good. Too
hot, too right, too right *there*. One spark to a fire between
one semi-random comment about The Time and one helpless "baby"
and here they are and Wesley's jerking him off like a pro.

Jerking Gunn off and *watching* him and --

"Tell me to suck you."

Ice-fire shot of pre-come over Wesley's fist and Gunn has to buck,
has to make a wordless noise of pure need before he can get it out.
"Suck me. Now." Right on the sex note.

Wesley's eyes slipping shut, shaky and trembling, squeeze to his
dick and then Wesley is *on* him. Devouring him root to tip and
back again. Lips and tongue and scrape of teeth. Sucking kiss
right at his scar, and another, and another. Tickling light touches
to his sac and Gunn could live in this moment. Right here, slow road
to something like madness but it isn't just for him, right?

Wesley's right here and Wesley obviously wants more -- drags up
the willpower to push Wesley off. Hiss at the sight of his drugged-looking
eyes and soft red mouth. Strands of spit and pre-come connecting them
still and Gunn just wants to push and pull them both until he can just
grab Wesley's head. Hold it still so he can fuck that sweet mouth, but
oh, yeah, there's more.

Wesley's still looking at Gunn from the vicinity of his cock. Too
fucking *good* --

"Got anything?"

Another long, long moment. Wesley licking and licking his lips and
cleaning Gunn's cock with his tongue *and* reaching under the
bed coming up with lube and a handful of condoms that right that
moment don't seem so much ambitious as *necessary*. Knows what
he's about to do and can't imagine *not* doing it. Can't imagine
stopping and he's not even *in* yet.

Fumbles the lube a little bit but gets the job done. Gets his
fingers slick and coated and Wesley has scooted up on the bed,
already up on his hands and knees, head down, panting hard, cock
throbbing up toward his belly. Unbelievable. Incredible and yeah,
*his* for just right now.

Forgets the lube for just long enough to spread those tight, round
cheeks. Two long, slow licks and Wesley shouts. Bucks and Gunn's
cock won't wait, take it later, all of it, slow and hard, but right
now slips two fingers in. Wesley's no virgin and he opens up
immediately which is good. Wonderful. *Needed*.

Perfunctory finger-fuck, in and twist and in and crook. Wesley
yells again and --

"Gunn, *now* --"

Can't say no, can't deny, can't even think. Just shoves in as
slow and easy as he can, finally just fucking his way in, one short,
sharp thrust at a time until Wesley *slams* back. Impales himself
in one stroke that leaves them both breathless.

No possibility of hesitation and Gunn pulls in a long, deep breath.
Pulls in and pulls out and starts to move. Letting his hips do
their thing, running his hands over Wesley's back, through the
sweat and deep funk of need and Wesley... Oh, God, the sounds
he's making...

Open vowel noises, half-sobs and meeting every thrust, *every* one
and Gunn can't keep his mouth shut, either. Has to say it,
everything, just how fucking hot Wesley is like this, tight and
sweet around his cock and just taking it so pretty and making
those woman sounds and all this flushed red muscle and it's good
it's so fucking *good*.

In in in and letting his head fall back and letting it build. No tricks
here, no attempts to stop it, slow it down. Too late for that too --

Comes grunting, thrusting through it, hands digging into Wesley's
hips that are still moving, moving... Keeps it up as long as he can
before slipping out. Tie and ditch the condom and flip Wesley
over and he's *straining*.

Dark purple hard and geysering pre-come and writhing and Gunn
*has* to. Has to take those spidering hands in his own and push
them down to the bed and dive in. No tease here, just taking
Wesley in and swallowing him whole, swallowing around the head
and sucking hard and it seems to take only half a heartbeat
before Wesley's coming down his throat.
Thrusting up and up and moaning low in his throat and Gunn lets
a little slip out over his lip just so Wesley can watch him lick
it up.

Holds the look for one beat, two, and then Wesley lets his
head fall back to the pillow and Gunn crawls up to share. Long kiss.
Slow and thorough and body to body again, side by side and
half-twined. More when they figure out where to put their arms and
Wesley's hair is curling a little with sweat.

And Wesley's mouth is generous and sweet.

And Gunn decides to just take this time, right here, before their
beepers go off and it's time to go save the world some more.

Wesley's hand on his hip. Too fucking good.

End.