It's all WG's fault
Jul. 13th, 2003 12:36 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thebratqueenThis is all, all, ALL ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wesleysgirl's fault for writing her STUPID (read: far too evocative) slashfic which planted these DUMB ideas in my head and wouldn't go away.
Also possibly some sort of blame/shout-out/homage of some kind should be given toeliade because I'd probably be lying if I said Noir and Subtleties hadn't added a few influences to the format.
But mostly I blame WG.
*Sigh*.
Okay, so
Strategy
by TBQ
Just so we're clear on where the blame lies, it's most especially WG's fault for writing the following lines:
You think I haven't seen the way that you look at him?
And now I'm going to take you, before he ever has the chance.
It's not like being with a woman. The natural... lubricants... aren't there
You're wrong if you think this will hurt him.
And so TBQ begins her insanity...
***
It's a world with Jasmine still in it. But it's not like any other world where the heroes manage to find the clues and crack the code and save the day in the span of a few days. No, in this world it's much, much harder.
Fred breaks the spell, yes. Then fires the shot through Angel, then the two of them together collect Cordelia's blood and save Wesley, Gunn and Lorne in turn.
They try to save Connor, as other versions of them try to save Connor. They fail, as all versions of them fail.
They escape.
And this is where it gets worse.
They run to the sewers, yes. They find the gang of children, yes. But in this world, as with many dimensions, there's a key difference.
Angel doesn't let Wesley out of his sight.
So Wesley is never snatched away. He isn't found by the oh so inadvertently helpful demon. Instead Angel tracks the demon down before it attacks and, as Angel is often wont to do, he kills first and asks questions later.
This naturally creates something of a problem. Though none of them are aware of it.
Connor brings the National Guard after them. With the kids still undamaged and no clues to guide them, Angel takes charge and leads them deeper into the sewers. Down past any point that any human could know of, and for the first time in a long time both Angel and Lorne are happy that Jasmine had them eradicate most of the demons in the area - there's less competition now for the living space, such as it is.
They form a bunker. They start planning a war.
Almost without thought Angel and Wesley form the command team. They work in unison, issuing orders and formulating plans like a well-rehearsed duet they've been moving towards all their lives. Lorne and the children collect scraps to turn their hovel into a home. Fred and Gunn are the only ones trusted to scout outside for food.
Angel and Wes bear the burden of trying to fix it.
They fight one night, their voices loud enough to echo through the metal that surrounds them, filtering their way into the cramped rooms of the kids - now with one or two new members - like two parents on the brink of divorce, both of them arguing over the most minor of details - map placement, in fact - when in truth it's the screaming they've both longed to do in order to release their frustration at the parts they've played in it all.
The yelling reaches a fever-pitch, stops, and then there's nothing but silence.
None of the kids guess what happens that night. Fred is puzzled by it. Gunn suspects, and Lorne keeps his comments to himself.
Later, much later, when only Angel and their watches can tell that it's morning, he and Wesley look into each other's eyes.
"I'm not sorry," Wesley says, his voice rough as though his throat had only just been slit.
"I'm not either," Angel replies.
They kiss, and this time the fucking is somewhat more tender.
When they dress, knowing that an appearance is needed to keep up the morale of the troops, they again speak in quiet tones.
Angel: "This can't...."
Wes, eyes as stoic as they've been for over a year now: "Be anything more than this. I know."
They both accept this, knowing that even talking about the alternatives brings more pain than it needs to.
They keep going. Wes moves into Angel's room. There is no announcement about it, it just happens. They act no differently in front of the others, yet there is a feeling in the air that even the children can clue in to. Somehow they all know that there's something going on that is best left unmentioned.
Gunn makes the mistake of trying to talk about it once. During a patrol of their turf he forays a casual comment in Wesley's direction. The temperature drop is so sudden Gunn swears to himself he can see his breath in the air. He doesn't make the mistake again. He and Wes exchange no other words for the rest of the night.
New recruits arrive. Not entirely on purpose. Mostly they are found by the others, stumbling their way into Los Angeles somehow unaffected by Jasmine's thrall. They are kidnapped, brought downstairs, and forced into the fold.
Wesley doesn't trust them. Angel doesn't see much alternative. Well, he admits to Wes one night, they could *kill* them, but....
There's a long moment before either man suggests a counter-argument. Wesley is the one who finally offers "It's a waste of possible resources." and they stick with that.
Jasmine's influence spreads. Angel becomes deadly quiet one night - literally - when he discovers that people from Sunnydale are above. He disappears for hours. When he returns he goes directly to his room and speaks to no one.
Wesley is the only one brave - or stupid - enough to go to him. He locks the door, approaches the vampire silently, and forces him down onto the bed. The sex is rough, desperate, and in the end Angel can't maintain an erection long enough to seal the deal, but it's enough to take the edge off.
By this time almost everyone understands what goes on between the two of them. Nobody, not even their three supposedly closest friends, ever dares say what they all think, but they're grateful and ironically prayerful that the diamond-hard insanity that Angel and Wes are both trapped in seems, for now, to be kept somewhat at bay by whatever it is the two of them are calling a relationship. Though none of them are certain which one of the two is the more foolhardy for offering such a thing to the other.
The war continues.
Their tiny ranks swell. They're all of twenty strong now. As a detective agency this would have been something to be proud of. As a general Wesley finds it a bitter pill. He wastes day after night trying to research, pouring over every piece of paper he can get his hands on, convinced, though he does not admit it, that it's his fault for not solving this puzzle.
Angel stops him after a week. This time it's his turn to haul the other man away from his obsession and take him until some of the barriers fall. When they collapse, exhausted and covered in sweat, Angel speaks words more gentle than have ever been shared between them:
"I can't lose you too."
Wesley closes his eyes, accepts this, and it passes for both a promise and an apology.
***
Things turn after about three months.
Word gets through to them about Jasmine leaving town. They're not sure why, but Fred takes a small measure of credit for hacking as many TV stations, radiowaves and websites as she can get her hands on during the few hours they dare to let her outside each week to see how much havoc she can create with naught but a few guards and a laptop with a wireless connection. The guess is that the would-be goddess must now extend her influence somewhat more personally.
It isn't good news for the world, as such, but it's somewhat hopeful news for Los Angeles. None of them are certain, but it's possible a break or two can be made in the front lines if the enemy doesn't have Jasmine's undivided protection.
Wesley worries the potential of this like a bit between his teeth. Angel says nothing on the subject.
Wesley understands the vampire's silence when the second rumor comes through:
Connor's in charge.
It's no surprise, this. But now the battle changes shape. Jasmine was content to enjoy the patience of millennia. She didn't lack a desire to make examples of them all, but after a while it was fairly obvious that she was content to let time itself do the damage if need be. Their dead bodies - and Angel's lonely unalive one - would be found eventually.
But Connor lacks this patience.
Attacks occur. Licks of pain hit along what passes for their safe zones. Connor, a teenager to the very end, pushes his father's boundaries, trying to force a response.
They lose some members to Jasmine's influence. They retreat to a new location. Connor keeps trying to ferret them out.
It is Wesley's idea to lay their hands upon prisoners. To drag them off into tunnels that matter to no one in particular and to do whatever it is that needs to be done to find out what's going on. Of course only the truly cured members of the team are allowed to make such attempts, and it is in various groupings of the five of them that they stage these assaults.
Fred and Gunn batter and shout information out of people. Lorne naturally gets it with a song (and it is Fred who clues him in to the trick of starting to hum "shave and a haircut" in order to get the two notes back that he needs to find information). Angel and Wesley don't say anything at all about the methods they use and everyone is happier for it, though Fred in particular can't entirely hide the look of disgust on her face when they return with more intelligence than any of them.
Still they go on, trying to find out Connor's weaknesses, because they have no alternative. So far the only cure that they know of is Cordelia's blood and without her they see no chance of winning.
This persists, until Wesley is given a rare opportunity.
***
He's with Fred and Gunn that day. It's a foray that brings them topside. They're not trying to find information this time. Instead it's merely a trip for supplies. Food. A little medicine. Fresh water that week comes courtesy of a pipe that Angel has tapped into, and it's a luxury they savor because they know at any minute it could be back to rationed sips.
The location - a high school Gunn's second cousin had once gone to - was supposed to be abandoned.
The armed guards prove this otherwise.
They're pushed and shoved into an auditorium, their hands bound behind their backs. In a moment of clearly planned drama Connor steps forth. Wesley tries not to start at the sight of him - darker, leaner, meaner.
The resemblance to his father has never been more uncanny.
Connor postures and makes speeches. He shows off for his men, hitting Gunn and feinting at Fred.
He comes to Wesley and he stops.
Wesley looks back at him unflinchingly. He's been around vampires long enough now. He knows that slight flaring of the nostrils. The one that says they recognize a scent.
The only question is what Connor will do with the information.
The boy's face turns mocking. "You think I didn't know? You think I didn't see the way you looked at him?"
Wesley torments him by not responding.
"He's not going to love you back, you know," Connor tells him. Then he recklessly reveals his entire hand as he continues. "Did you think he'd *try*? He'll never do it. He'll touch you but he'll never fu - "
"Let's continue this conversation in private," Wesley says, meeting the younger man's eyes.
Connor hauls Wesley through some metal doors into what Wesley can only guess is a dressing room area. Wesley keeps his eye on the boy, analyzing every movement, gesture, action, knowing that what he's been presented with is possibly the greatest translation challenge of his life since the *last* one Connor presented him with.
Wesley dares to rest some weight on his assumption that Connor has his father's skills but not experience. He can recognize Angel's scent well enough to know that he and Angel have been close, not well enough to fully guess that the relationship has been consummated.
"Looks like I beat you," Connor says.
"So you have," Wesley agrees, knowing that right now it's best to seem compliant.
"I'll get him too you know."
Wesley can't resist saying: "That's one theory."
Wesley is struck for this insubordination. His ears ring, and he's reminded that the child in front of him is no mere child. It would be far too easy for Connor to kill him without even realizing he'd made the attempt. The man in him chafes at this inequality, but he forces it down.
Connor is back to posturing. "How much do you think he wants you?"
"That question is best asked of him, I'd imagine," Wesley observes mildly.
Connor is in his face. "Enough to hate it if I got you first?"
Wesley is momentarily stunned. Somehow, deep down, he'd always wagered that a father like Holtz would have beaten any such desires out of Connor's body long before this could ever be an issue.
Yet here they were. And if Wesley's quick translations were anything to trust, the question had been wholly genuine.
It takes only a second for Wesley to know what he has to do.
He relaxes his body by a hair - shaping it in only the mere *suggestion* of submission.
"Probably."
Connor grabs him, his fingertips bruising, and claims him with a kiss that's far too clumsy to evoke true terror.
Wesley gives in to it anyway.
The touch keeps going. Far too quickly - and Wesley blames teenage hormones, here - Connor's erection presses against him. Wesley's clothes are fumbled and torn away, his cock more manhandled than molested, and then he's pressed face-first against the wall as Connor begins courting a nasty friction burn between his legs.
"It needs lubrication," Wesley tells him.
"I know that," Connor says, defensively, but the coltish look in his eyes reveals that, in truth, the boy's not entirely certain what the word in this context even *means*.
Wesley shoves his emotions down further. He submits himself not to Connor but to the plan which has formulated in his mind. He turns around, kneels, and takes the boy into his mouth.
It's over far too fast. Come chokes Wesley's throat before he can pull back and let Connor rape him properly. He swallows, though, knowing that this will only improve his chances later. When he looks up he sees emotions flicker through Connor's eyes that once again show his every vulnerability.
Wesley's not unaware that in this moment - and in the ones that he is now creating for himself - he is probably far too much like Cordelia.
Although he dares to suppose, given Connor's shuttered expression, that Cordelia, at least, had not approached Connor from *here*.
A first for them all then.
Connor finds his bluster again, shoving Wesley's shoulders back against the wall. "I could take you, you know!"
"I'm sure you could."
"I could do it right now!"
Teenage hormones, Wesley once again thinks. "I know."
Connor stands back, confused by this deference.
Wesley takes the initiative. "I want a deal."
"I don't - "
"You can have me," Wesley says. He deliberately - though he gives no outward sign of this calculation - touches his tongue to his lips. "Claim me before Angel does."
Connor eyes him suspiciously, but the fact that he listens is all the leeway Wesley needs.
"I could be yours," Wesley tells him. "Yours alone. Even Cordelia couldn't give you that. She was only there for Jasmine. I could be there for you."
Connor raises a hand to strike but then forgets it. "You're lying."
"Do I look as though I am?"
"Why would you do this?"
It's a question Wesley expected. "You have my friends."
Again Connor listens.
"Let them go," Wesley says, "and I will go with you. Willingly."
A young mouth curls in a sneer. "Why should I trust you?"
"Because I keep my promises," Wesley tells him. "Even when they are not to my benefit." And now Wesley takes his greatest chance, plunging the conversation into territory which to him is totally uncharted. "That's why I took you from him in the first place."
The silence is long. Wesley's muscles tense, ready and accepting of the death blow that will come.
None lands, and Connor merely nods. "Fine."
"Untie my hands then."
"Do you think I'm *stupid*?"
"On the contrary," Wesley tells him. "I think you are wise. Which is why you know that if you wish Fred and Gunn to leave here willingly that they will need to see that I am not your captive. Let me stand before them a free man and tell them this is my choice."
"This sounds like a trap."
"If I'm lying you can kill me. Either way Angel will be hurt."
It's the final point that does it. Connor cuts the rope around his wrists. Wesley takes a moment to fix his clothes as best as he's able. When he's done he looks disheveled, but in no way that would suggest anything other than a fight.
They go back out to the others.
"I'm going with him," Wesley tells them. "I'm rejoining their ranks."
Fred jerks in her captivity, shaking her head. "Wesley - "
He ignores her and meets Gunn's eyes. "Tell Angel he is not to look for me. I've made my choice. *I know what I am doing.*"
Gunn shapes his face in contempt, but Wesley knows his true message was heard. "Fuck you then, man. You gonna kill us too?"
"No, we'll let you die like animals," Wesley says, and with that Connor takes him from the room. It's a long walk, but eventually they return to the Hyperion.
Connor puts Wesley into his suite.
It's weeks before he finds out if Connor kept his part of the bargain.
To be continued. Possibly. If I don't regain sanity by the morning.
wesleysgirl's fault for writing her STUPID (read: far too evocative) slashfic which planted these DUMB ideas in my head and wouldn't go away.Also possibly some sort of blame/shout-out/homage of some kind should be given to
eliade because I'd probably be lying if I said Noir and Subtleties hadn't added a few influences to the format.But mostly I blame WG.
*Sigh*.
Okay, so
Strategy
by TBQ
Just so we're clear on where the blame lies, it's most especially WG's fault for writing the following lines:
You think I haven't seen the way that you look at him?
And now I'm going to take you, before he ever has the chance.
It's not like being with a woman. The natural... lubricants... aren't there
You're wrong if you think this will hurt him.
And so TBQ begins her insanity...
***
It's a world with Jasmine still in it. But it's not like any other world where the heroes manage to find the clues and crack the code and save the day in the span of a few days. No, in this world it's much, much harder.
Fred breaks the spell, yes. Then fires the shot through Angel, then the two of them together collect Cordelia's blood and save Wesley, Gunn and Lorne in turn.
They try to save Connor, as other versions of them try to save Connor. They fail, as all versions of them fail.
They escape.
And this is where it gets worse.
They run to the sewers, yes. They find the gang of children, yes. But in this world, as with many dimensions, there's a key difference.
Angel doesn't let Wesley out of his sight.
So Wesley is never snatched away. He isn't found by the oh so inadvertently helpful demon. Instead Angel tracks the demon down before it attacks and, as Angel is often wont to do, he kills first and asks questions later.
This naturally creates something of a problem. Though none of them are aware of it.
Connor brings the National Guard after them. With the kids still undamaged and no clues to guide them, Angel takes charge and leads them deeper into the sewers. Down past any point that any human could know of, and for the first time in a long time both Angel and Lorne are happy that Jasmine had them eradicate most of the demons in the area - there's less competition now for the living space, such as it is.
They form a bunker. They start planning a war.
Almost without thought Angel and Wesley form the command team. They work in unison, issuing orders and formulating plans like a well-rehearsed duet they've been moving towards all their lives. Lorne and the children collect scraps to turn their hovel into a home. Fred and Gunn are the only ones trusted to scout outside for food.
Angel and Wes bear the burden of trying to fix it.
They fight one night, their voices loud enough to echo through the metal that surrounds them, filtering their way into the cramped rooms of the kids - now with one or two new members - like two parents on the brink of divorce, both of them arguing over the most minor of details - map placement, in fact - when in truth it's the screaming they've both longed to do in order to release their frustration at the parts they've played in it all.
The yelling reaches a fever-pitch, stops, and then there's nothing but silence.
None of the kids guess what happens that night. Fred is puzzled by it. Gunn suspects, and Lorne keeps his comments to himself.
Later, much later, when only Angel and their watches can tell that it's morning, he and Wesley look into each other's eyes.
"I'm not sorry," Wesley says, his voice rough as though his throat had only just been slit.
"I'm not either," Angel replies.
They kiss, and this time the fucking is somewhat more tender.
When they dress, knowing that an appearance is needed to keep up the morale of the troops, they again speak in quiet tones.
Angel: "This can't...."
Wes, eyes as stoic as they've been for over a year now: "Be anything more than this. I know."
They both accept this, knowing that even talking about the alternatives brings more pain than it needs to.
They keep going. Wes moves into Angel's room. There is no announcement about it, it just happens. They act no differently in front of the others, yet there is a feeling in the air that even the children can clue in to. Somehow they all know that there's something going on that is best left unmentioned.
Gunn makes the mistake of trying to talk about it once. During a patrol of their turf he forays a casual comment in Wesley's direction. The temperature drop is so sudden Gunn swears to himself he can see his breath in the air. He doesn't make the mistake again. He and Wes exchange no other words for the rest of the night.
New recruits arrive. Not entirely on purpose. Mostly they are found by the others, stumbling their way into Los Angeles somehow unaffected by Jasmine's thrall. They are kidnapped, brought downstairs, and forced into the fold.
Wesley doesn't trust them. Angel doesn't see much alternative. Well, he admits to Wes one night, they could *kill* them, but....
There's a long moment before either man suggests a counter-argument. Wesley is the one who finally offers "It's a waste of possible resources." and they stick with that.
Jasmine's influence spreads. Angel becomes deadly quiet one night - literally - when he discovers that people from Sunnydale are above. He disappears for hours. When he returns he goes directly to his room and speaks to no one.
Wesley is the only one brave - or stupid - enough to go to him. He locks the door, approaches the vampire silently, and forces him down onto the bed. The sex is rough, desperate, and in the end Angel can't maintain an erection long enough to seal the deal, but it's enough to take the edge off.
By this time almost everyone understands what goes on between the two of them. Nobody, not even their three supposedly closest friends, ever dares say what they all think, but they're grateful and ironically prayerful that the diamond-hard insanity that Angel and Wes are both trapped in seems, for now, to be kept somewhat at bay by whatever it is the two of them are calling a relationship. Though none of them are certain which one of the two is the more foolhardy for offering such a thing to the other.
The war continues.
Their tiny ranks swell. They're all of twenty strong now. As a detective agency this would have been something to be proud of. As a general Wesley finds it a bitter pill. He wastes day after night trying to research, pouring over every piece of paper he can get his hands on, convinced, though he does not admit it, that it's his fault for not solving this puzzle.
Angel stops him after a week. This time it's his turn to haul the other man away from his obsession and take him until some of the barriers fall. When they collapse, exhausted and covered in sweat, Angel speaks words more gentle than have ever been shared between them:
"I can't lose you too."
Wesley closes his eyes, accepts this, and it passes for both a promise and an apology.
***
Things turn after about three months.
Word gets through to them about Jasmine leaving town. They're not sure why, but Fred takes a small measure of credit for hacking as many TV stations, radiowaves and websites as she can get her hands on during the few hours they dare to let her outside each week to see how much havoc she can create with naught but a few guards and a laptop with a wireless connection. The guess is that the would-be goddess must now extend her influence somewhat more personally.
It isn't good news for the world, as such, but it's somewhat hopeful news for Los Angeles. None of them are certain, but it's possible a break or two can be made in the front lines if the enemy doesn't have Jasmine's undivided protection.
Wesley worries the potential of this like a bit between his teeth. Angel says nothing on the subject.
Wesley understands the vampire's silence when the second rumor comes through:
Connor's in charge.
It's no surprise, this. But now the battle changes shape. Jasmine was content to enjoy the patience of millennia. She didn't lack a desire to make examples of them all, but after a while it was fairly obvious that she was content to let time itself do the damage if need be. Their dead bodies - and Angel's lonely unalive one - would be found eventually.
But Connor lacks this patience.
Attacks occur. Licks of pain hit along what passes for their safe zones. Connor, a teenager to the very end, pushes his father's boundaries, trying to force a response.
They lose some members to Jasmine's influence. They retreat to a new location. Connor keeps trying to ferret them out.
It is Wesley's idea to lay their hands upon prisoners. To drag them off into tunnels that matter to no one in particular and to do whatever it is that needs to be done to find out what's going on. Of course only the truly cured members of the team are allowed to make such attempts, and it is in various groupings of the five of them that they stage these assaults.
Fred and Gunn batter and shout information out of people. Lorne naturally gets it with a song (and it is Fred who clues him in to the trick of starting to hum "shave and a haircut" in order to get the two notes back that he needs to find information). Angel and Wesley don't say anything at all about the methods they use and everyone is happier for it, though Fred in particular can't entirely hide the look of disgust on her face when they return with more intelligence than any of them.
Still they go on, trying to find out Connor's weaknesses, because they have no alternative. So far the only cure that they know of is Cordelia's blood and without her they see no chance of winning.
This persists, until Wesley is given a rare opportunity.
***
He's with Fred and Gunn that day. It's a foray that brings them topside. They're not trying to find information this time. Instead it's merely a trip for supplies. Food. A little medicine. Fresh water that week comes courtesy of a pipe that Angel has tapped into, and it's a luxury they savor because they know at any minute it could be back to rationed sips.
The location - a high school Gunn's second cousin had once gone to - was supposed to be abandoned.
The armed guards prove this otherwise.
They're pushed and shoved into an auditorium, their hands bound behind their backs. In a moment of clearly planned drama Connor steps forth. Wesley tries not to start at the sight of him - darker, leaner, meaner.
The resemblance to his father has never been more uncanny.
Connor postures and makes speeches. He shows off for his men, hitting Gunn and feinting at Fred.
He comes to Wesley and he stops.
Wesley looks back at him unflinchingly. He's been around vampires long enough now. He knows that slight flaring of the nostrils. The one that says they recognize a scent.
The only question is what Connor will do with the information.
The boy's face turns mocking. "You think I didn't know? You think I didn't see the way you looked at him?"
Wesley torments him by not responding.
"He's not going to love you back, you know," Connor tells him. Then he recklessly reveals his entire hand as he continues. "Did you think he'd *try*? He'll never do it. He'll touch you but he'll never fu - "
"Let's continue this conversation in private," Wesley says, meeting the younger man's eyes.
Connor hauls Wesley through some metal doors into what Wesley can only guess is a dressing room area. Wesley keeps his eye on the boy, analyzing every movement, gesture, action, knowing that what he's been presented with is possibly the greatest translation challenge of his life since the *last* one Connor presented him with.
Wesley dares to rest some weight on his assumption that Connor has his father's skills but not experience. He can recognize Angel's scent well enough to know that he and Angel have been close, not well enough to fully guess that the relationship has been consummated.
"Looks like I beat you," Connor says.
"So you have," Wesley agrees, knowing that right now it's best to seem compliant.
"I'll get him too you know."
Wesley can't resist saying: "That's one theory."
Wesley is struck for this insubordination. His ears ring, and he's reminded that the child in front of him is no mere child. It would be far too easy for Connor to kill him without even realizing he'd made the attempt. The man in him chafes at this inequality, but he forces it down.
Connor is back to posturing. "How much do you think he wants you?"
"That question is best asked of him, I'd imagine," Wesley observes mildly.
Connor is in his face. "Enough to hate it if I got you first?"
Wesley is momentarily stunned. Somehow, deep down, he'd always wagered that a father like Holtz would have beaten any such desires out of Connor's body long before this could ever be an issue.
Yet here they were. And if Wesley's quick translations were anything to trust, the question had been wholly genuine.
It takes only a second for Wesley to know what he has to do.
He relaxes his body by a hair - shaping it in only the mere *suggestion* of submission.
"Probably."
Connor grabs him, his fingertips bruising, and claims him with a kiss that's far too clumsy to evoke true terror.
Wesley gives in to it anyway.
The touch keeps going. Far too quickly - and Wesley blames teenage hormones, here - Connor's erection presses against him. Wesley's clothes are fumbled and torn away, his cock more manhandled than molested, and then he's pressed face-first against the wall as Connor begins courting a nasty friction burn between his legs.
"It needs lubrication," Wesley tells him.
"I know that," Connor says, defensively, but the coltish look in his eyes reveals that, in truth, the boy's not entirely certain what the word in this context even *means*.
Wesley shoves his emotions down further. He submits himself not to Connor but to the plan which has formulated in his mind. He turns around, kneels, and takes the boy into his mouth.
It's over far too fast. Come chokes Wesley's throat before he can pull back and let Connor rape him properly. He swallows, though, knowing that this will only improve his chances later. When he looks up he sees emotions flicker through Connor's eyes that once again show his every vulnerability.
Wesley's not unaware that in this moment - and in the ones that he is now creating for himself - he is probably far too much like Cordelia.
Although he dares to suppose, given Connor's shuttered expression, that Cordelia, at least, had not approached Connor from *here*.
A first for them all then.
Connor finds his bluster again, shoving Wesley's shoulders back against the wall. "I could take you, you know!"
"I'm sure you could."
"I could do it right now!"
Teenage hormones, Wesley once again thinks. "I know."
Connor stands back, confused by this deference.
Wesley takes the initiative. "I want a deal."
"I don't - "
"You can have me," Wesley says. He deliberately - though he gives no outward sign of this calculation - touches his tongue to his lips. "Claim me before Angel does."
Connor eyes him suspiciously, but the fact that he listens is all the leeway Wesley needs.
"I could be yours," Wesley tells him. "Yours alone. Even Cordelia couldn't give you that. She was only there for Jasmine. I could be there for you."
Connor raises a hand to strike but then forgets it. "You're lying."
"Do I look as though I am?"
"Why would you do this?"
It's a question Wesley expected. "You have my friends."
Again Connor listens.
"Let them go," Wesley says, "and I will go with you. Willingly."
A young mouth curls in a sneer. "Why should I trust you?"
"Because I keep my promises," Wesley tells him. "Even when they are not to my benefit." And now Wesley takes his greatest chance, plunging the conversation into territory which to him is totally uncharted. "That's why I took you from him in the first place."
The silence is long. Wesley's muscles tense, ready and accepting of the death blow that will come.
None lands, and Connor merely nods. "Fine."
"Untie my hands then."
"Do you think I'm *stupid*?"
"On the contrary," Wesley tells him. "I think you are wise. Which is why you know that if you wish Fred and Gunn to leave here willingly that they will need to see that I am not your captive. Let me stand before them a free man and tell them this is my choice."
"This sounds like a trap."
"If I'm lying you can kill me. Either way Angel will be hurt."
It's the final point that does it. Connor cuts the rope around his wrists. Wesley takes a moment to fix his clothes as best as he's able. When he's done he looks disheveled, but in no way that would suggest anything other than a fight.
They go back out to the others.
"I'm going with him," Wesley tells them. "I'm rejoining their ranks."
Fred jerks in her captivity, shaking her head. "Wesley - "
He ignores her and meets Gunn's eyes. "Tell Angel he is not to look for me. I've made my choice. *I know what I am doing.*"
Gunn shapes his face in contempt, but Wesley knows his true message was heard. "Fuck you then, man. You gonna kill us too?"
"No, we'll let you die like animals," Wesley says, and with that Connor takes him from the room. It's a long walk, but eventually they return to the Hyperion.
Connor puts Wesley into his suite.
It's weeks before he finds out if Connor kept his part of the bargain.
To be continued. Possibly. If I don't regain sanity by the morning.
