Pet: Part Two
Oct. 10th, 2003 11:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thebratqueenThere were many wonderful icons made for me, both posted to LJ and sent to me in email, but in the end my heart was won over by this one by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
_bettina_. It's Wes, and he's wearing a coat 8)
In addition to that I present you with part two of the new indulgence fic!
PART TWO
There had been, over the course of the three plus decades of Wesley's life, more than one occasion when he had opened his eyes to be completely unaware, at least for a moment, of how he had gotten to where he currently was. Sometimes this involved unusual sexual partners. Othertimes it involved demons.
This was, he hoped, the first time in his life in which it involved *both*.
Spike was the first thing to hove into view. The slim vampire lay sprawled along one side of the bed, a single arm draped over his face as though he'd swooned like a maiden in the century of his making. His mouth was open, though of course no snores came out of it.
Behind Wesley was Angel.
This, Wesley was ashamed to admit, was the thing which most captivated him.
He'd never really seen the vampire asleep. Not in any situation like this, certainly. Shaken him awake with quick, efficient movements when he'd been needed on a case now and then, passed out from injuries on more than one occasion, but not like this. Not peaceful, and resting.
The curtains were open. Moonlight spilled across Angel's bare chest. Wesley realized, with absolute certainty, that if the events of the evening were that of a fairy tale, then there was no doubt as to who was the handsome prince. He raised a hand, longing to touch the shape of Angel's face, draw fingers across those lips which Wesley knew, now, were impossibly soft, and kiss Angel into wakefulness.
Wesley leaned in close enough to do it that he could feel the warmth of his own breath against Angel's skin.
He leaned in - almost - then pulled away.
This could *not* be done.
No. No. This - this *whatever* it had been was not to be comprehended. Too impossible. Too improbable. It was something out of a spell or a dream and Wesley found himself unable to bear the thought of what would happen when he wasn't the only one to wake from it.
He crawled his way out of the bed, sliding carefully down the middle so as not to disturb the slumbering vampires. He squinted, gathered his clothes, then made his way to Angel's private elevator, not even stopping to dress until the doors were safely closed behind him.
Then, alone at last, he caught his breath and closed his eyes. He forced all thoughts of what had happened out of his mind, concentrating only on getting to the showers by the office gym, then changing into his spare clothes. Somehow that made him feel that everything would be all right.
***
When Spike woke up he was alone.
Trying to take stock of things, he rubbed his eyes and glanced around. Angel was standing by the windows, shoulders tight, clearly in the middle of a big brooding.
"Forget the fiber this morning?" Spike asked. He was rewarded with one of Angel's less-pleased glares. Spike cast about, trying to find some sort of explanation, then realized the answer when his hearing came up with a resounding silence where a heartbeat should have been. "Huh. Seem to be short one mortal in the morning."
Angel kept glaring at him.
Spike sat up, running a hand through his hair. "You know, you wouldn't have this problem if you leashed 'em from the start. I keep telling you and - "
Amazing how the old bastard could cut you off without moving a bloody inch.
"Fine, fine," Spike said, getting out of bed. He started to head for the shower but aborted the movement when Angel's look made it *very* clear that that was not the path to happy Spikes. "All *right* already. I get it. Angel grumpy. Spike go fetch. Honestly, it's like being buggered by bloody Tarzan sometimes."
Still more silence.
"You're welcome," Spike said, rolling his eyes as he waited for the lift.
***
Wesley was in his office when Spike appeared.
"Morning," he said, conversationally.
Wesley jerked, startled. He immediately checked to be certain his office door was closed - which it had been *before* the vampire's arrival but clearly that hadn't mattered in terms of privacy. Thankfully the blinds were still drawn on all the glass that normally exposed his office to the common area. "Spike."
"One and only," Spike agreed. He leaned against the filing cabinet that Wesley had been looking through. He gave Wesley an appraising look. "You know, I wouldn't have pegged you for a runner, pet."
"I'm not," Wesley immediately replied, his pride stung. "I didn't. I - there was a meeting."
"Right," Spike said, drawing the word out over several syllables. He indicated the file folder in Wesley's hands. "Wouldn't want to keep the paperclips waiting."
"Is there something I can help you with?" Wesley asked. He shut the cabinet drawer and tried to give the appearance of someone who had pressing things he could be doing.
"There was but you decided to have a meeting with the invisible people instead," Spike replied, opening his arms up wide to indicate how they were the only ones in the room. Then he frowned, poking at the air as though expecting to touch something. "Actually, 'round this place that could happen. We *are* alone, right?"
In spite of himself, Wesley felt his mouth twitch in a smile. "Yes. We're alone."
"Good," Spike said. "Wouldn't want anyone eavesdropping. Gets messy, people knowing your secrets."
"Spike, if you are suggesting that you are going to *tell* anyone about - "
"You know," Spike continued, as though he wasn't listening, "the first time I met Angelus I told myself 'Here's a right old bastard'. Hated the man. Pompous arsehole, through and through."
Not entirely certain why Spike felt the need to saunter down memory lane, Wesley perched on the edge of his desk and listened. "But that changed."
"What?" Spike asked. "Like Hell it did. Still *is* a pompous arsehole. Can't take *that* out of the man, let me tell you."
"You don't hate him anymore?" Wesley guessed.
"Wouldn't go that far," Spike said, holding up his hand like someone stopping traffic. Then, seeing Wesley's disapproving frown, he waved off the show of concern. "Not saying I'd *off* the bastard. Just some nights it's real tempting to try to do damage to that stone skull he's sporting around."
"I'm sure I don't know what that feels like," Wesley told him.
Now it was Spike whose mouth twitched in a smile. "I'll bet you don't."
"You were saying?" Wesley prompted him.
"Hated the man," Spike said, picking up his train of thought. "It was cats and dogs, him and me. All sorts of hissing and scratching if you get what I mean."
"I think so," Wesley said. "What happened?"
"Bloody bastard made me come," Spike said, plopping down onto a chair. He propped his boots up on Wesley's desk. "Then I *really* hated him."
Wesley wondered what sort of reaction was expected at a moment like that. "Oh."
"Tragic irony, I'm telling you," Spike said. "Man's a bloody genius. Wouldn't know it for all the puppies he's offed in the name of artistic schemes of torment, but what he can do with a whip is not to be believed, I'm here to say."
"Spike - "
"'course that's true on either side of the equation," Spike admitted. "But I figure you Watcher types know all about the torture. It's the *other* stuff that doesn't make the records. Mostly 'cause he either killed 'em when he was done or 'cause Dru was too crazy to chat about it and I sure as bloody Hell wasn't going to do his ego a stroke by penning a novel or twelve about the way his hands can go straight to your dick, even when he's not exactly touching you."
"Spike - "
"I mean the first year of my unlife, pet, was not to be believed," Spike continued. "And that was just for starters. Once I learned a trick or two there were *years* there of nothing but - "
"Spike - "
" - seeing the back of my skull while he's using that bloody tripod of his like a battering ram and - "
"*Spike* - "
" - let's not forget that little thing he does with his tongue which - "
"Spike!" Wesley snapped, not wanting this to go on any further.
Blond eyebrows quirked up as the vampire grinned. "Yes?"
"What precisely does this have to do with me?" Wesley asked.
"You?" Spike said. He settled down more comfortably in his chair, his eyes never leaving Wesley's face. "Ah yeah, you. Right nice one, you were. All randy and warm. Mewling like a newborn kit. Lovely present for my night, I've gotta say."
Wesley refused to let himself color. "Thank you. Now perhaps that's *all* which needs to be said?"
Spike chuckled. "Hardly. Christ, luv. I swallow just right and I can still feel you in the back of my throat. Taste you too, for that matter." Spike's eyes traveled downward. "Makes a man want a repeat, that."
Wesley stood up, staring Spike down. "I won't be spoken to in this manner. If you somehow think that the activities of last night give you some *right* to - "
"Easy, pet," Spike said. He held up his hands, innocently. "Not touching you, am I? Nothing to be afraid of. Big, bad vampire's not gonna hurt you. Not allowed. Don't have permission."
Wesley frowned. "Permission?"
"How's about you get the Hell out of here, Spike?" Angel's voice cut in between them, making them both look towards the door.
Spike stood up, leaving without question. "Took you long enough. Not that bloody hard to find him in his own office, you know."
"Go pretend to be useful," Angel said.
"Nice suit," Spike drawled, with a pointed look at Angel's outfit.
Angel replied to that by casually closing the doors behind him.
Which left Wesley and Angel alone.
Wesley found himself longing for the invisible people.
"Angel - " Wesley started.
"Morning, Wes," Angel replied, walking into the room. He hooked his thumbs into his pockets. "What's new?"
Wesley opened and closed his mouth, trying to imagine how Angel wanted him to reply. "The cafeteria is serving eggplant?" he offered.
"You like eggplant?" Angel asked.
"Occasionally," Wesley told him.
"Good to know," Angel replied.
There was silence. Wesley waited for Angel to say more. When nothing was forthcoming, he wondered if this was meant to be no more than their usual AM catch-up. "I've got the report back on the Yamamoto case."
"Oh?" Angel said. He came forward, motioning for Wesley to hand over the information. Wesley retrieved the binder from his inbox and gave it to him, watching as Angel turned through the pages. "Wanna bottom-line all these flowcharts?"
"There's two avenues we could take, both currently seem to be equally fatal," Wesley said. "We're still working on avenue three. Fortunately we have until the next new moon to find something."
"Good," Angel said. He flipped the binder closed and handed it back. "Think we can drop this in closed cases in half the time?"
"I'm sure of it," Wesley told him.
"Excellent," Angel replied. "So do you *always* come up to my kitchen to jerk off or is that a new thing?"
"Oh God," Wesley said. The world had *definitely* been kicked out from underneath him.
"Because if it's going to be a habit, I could loan you a key," Angel pointed out.
"Oh God," Wesley repeated. He pressed a hand to his eyes, then forced himself to face Angel. "Angel, I am sorry. Last night was - I never intended - "
"Did we have a meeting?" Angel asked. He seemed genuinely curious. "I don't remember a meeting."
"We didn't," Wesley admitted. "I was working late, I had a question, I thought I could see if you were awake - "
"You know there *are* phones," Angel reminded him.
"In the clarity of hindsight, yes," Wesley said. "Angel, I'm sorry. I never meant to interrupt or intrude upon your private time."
"Interrupt all you like," Angel said. "I know you. You're not frivolous. So what's the question?"
"It's completely slipped my mind," Wesley confessed.
Angel nodded. "Fair enough. Lemme know if it comes back."
"Angel, last night was - " Wesley tried to find words to express himself. "What I am trying to say is that we are both adults. I am sure we can come to some kind of an understanding. I am completely willing to do whatever it might take to put the awkwardness of this incident behind us."
"Really?" Angel asked.
"Really," Wesley promised.
Angel flexed his jaw, taking that in. "Okay. Bend over."
"Pardon?"
"You said no awkward," Angel told him. "I'm saying okay. It's pretty awkward to me that last night I didn't fuck you. Bend over."
"I'm in no mood to be made fun of," Wesley said, turning to walk away.
"You notice me laughing?"
Wesley stopped, because he realized this was true.
"Are we friends, Wes?" Angel asked, his brown eyes deep with sincerity.
"Of course," Wesley said at once.
"I'm your friend," Angel clarified, still looking for confirmation. "You consider me your friend."
"I consider you my dearest friend," Wesley told him. "That's why I - "
Angel shook his head, cutting him off. "You're my friend too. I trust you. I look at you and I feel certain about things. I like that. I feel really comfortable with it."
"As do I," Wesley told him.
"That," Angel said, pointing in the direction of the rest of the office, "that is not certain. That is a very big, thirty story pile of uncertainty. That is day in, day out, things that are trying to throw me. That I do not like."
"You're doing a wonderful job," Wesley assured him.
"Thanks," Angel said. He began to walk around the room, occasionally touching the trinkets that Wesley had scattered around by way of decoration. "You know the funny thing is I actually enjoy it. It's a challenge. I like challenges. But challenges need a focus. I can't beat this thing if I'm distracted."
"That sounds reasonable," Wesley said, uncertain of where this was going.
"So I like *removing* distractions," Angel said. He made a gesture of finality. "Something's up in the air and I can cut it down? That makes me happy. You on board for me being happy?"
"To an extent," Wesley said.
Angel acknowledged the joke. "To an extent. So, to *that* extent. you and I need to work on making me happy. Because the way things stand after last night does not make me happy."
Wesley came forward, trying to catch Angel's eye. "I told you, I am willing to do whatever it takes to make this comfortable between us."
"Are you?" Angel asked. His eyes were darker, more solid. Almost the color of his suit. "See that's the thing I'm not so sure about. Because what you're willing to do might not be what I'm really comfortable with."
"What are you comfortable with, then?" Wesley asked.
"You," Angel said. "Your big brain. Your loyalty. Your humor. The way you look when you're cracking a case. The way you move when you're knee-deep in killing something. The way you felt when you came in my arms last night. All that makes me *real* comfortable."
Wesley swallowed. He didn't know if he'd backed up or if Angel had moved forward, but either way there was now a wall behind him and nothing but vampire in front. "I - "
"But that's not really the right question," Angel continued. He placed one hand against the wall, blocking the way to the door. "Because it's not about what I'm *comfortable* with. It's about what I'm *uncomfortable* with. And what I am uncomfortable with is this pissant little tendency you have to decide for yourself that one day you're just going to pack up and leave and do your own fucking thing because in *your* screwed-up head that's going to make me happy."
Wesley's mouth was dry. He shook his head, trying to imagine what on earth Angel could be talking about. "I - Angel, I *wouldn't* - "
"You could, you would," Angel said, brooking no arguments about it. "You can. You could walk out that door right now and there isn't a thing I could do to stop you. And that makes me uncomfortable."
"Angel - "
"I don't want that," Angel said. Both hands were on either side of Wesley now, caging him in. "What I want, what's going to make this *right* for me, is an answer. And it's an answer to a very specific question. Do you, Wesley, want the right to walk out that door whenever you want, or do you want to make me comfortable by giving me every right you ever had? Because what *truly* makes me comfortable, Wes, is a place where I don't have to worry about a damn thing because I *own* you. Mind, heart, body and soul. From your best creative idea to the tiniest drops of come that leak from your dick. All. Mine. Am I making myself clear here?"
Wesley's heart was thundering. "Yes," he managed.
"I want that," Angel told him. "I've wanted it for four years. I want a place where when I tell you to bend over your desk we're not fucking around with small talk. I want a place where when you're there when I'm asleep then you are *there* when I wake up, and you're not leaving me again because of that god-damned free will you're so addicted to using. I want a place where every breath you breathe happens because I allow it."
"Angel - " Wesley whispered.
Angel kept going. "But here's the catch. I kinda *like* your free will. Because I like the part where you're not obligated to me. Where you don't hate me because I did this to you. So what we have here is a choice. *You* have a choice. And you're going to need to choose wisely because no matter what you pick I am *never* asking again. I've got enough grey areas to battle with. I'm counting on you to give me some black and white. And no matter what you pick, I promise I'm not going to hate you."
"I understand," Wesley told him. There was no way for their bodies to be closer now without actual physical contact.
"The choice is this," Angel said, not even blinking as he spoke. "Do you want us to forget last night ever happened and go on about our lives just as we did before, or do you want to become my property right here and right now? And just so I am making myself *crystal* clear, Wes, what I'm telling you is this: In the world of kink, you get a safety word. Say it, and it all stops. Because you're my friend, I'm giving you that chance. But this is it. Either you say the word right now, or you *never* get the chance to say no to me again. So I want you to dig deep in that big brain of yours, and tell me what you want. Speak now, or forever hold your peace."
"Please," Wesley said. He wanted to touch Angel but felt as though his hands were pinned to his sides. "Angel, God - I don't *want* the bloody word. I thought - I never thought that you - "
"Wes," Angel said, and for the first time Wesley realized the tight control the vampire was keeping on himself. "Make this black and white for me. Yes or no."
"Yes!" Wesley told him. "Angel, yes. Please. I want it. I want everything you say. If you had any idea how much - "
"Show me," Angel replied. "Prove it. Prove you're not going to be cursing me in the morning, because so fucking help me - "
At once Wesley knew what to do. He moved to drop to his knees and provide the obvious services.
Angel stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Not exactly what I had in mind, but I like your initiative. Maybe later." He searched Wesley's eyes, looking intently enough that Wesley felt as though Angel could read his thoughts. "You really want this? Mine, utterly and completely?"
"Get Gunn in here," Wesley told him. "I'll sign a contract. With blood, if necessary."
A half-smile curled Angel's lips. He moved his hand up, caressing Wesley's mouth with his thumb. "Something mystically binding? I just might. But so far I like what I see."
"Then give me the chance to prove myself," Wesley said. "I'll make you proud of me."
"You always do," Angel told him. He bent forward and brushed the lightest kiss over Wesley's lips.
Wesley dared to reach up and rest his hands on Angel's arms. The muscles there were rock hard. He tried to pull Angel closer but found he had no luck at it.
"Ah, ah, ah," Angel corrected. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. You need to learn the ground rules. And don't make me have to repeat them. I don't like it. I shouldn't have to, since they're real simple: Around here, what I say goes. I tell you to do something, you do it. I tell you to be somewhere, you go there. You do not think, you do not argue, you *do*, get it?" When Wesley only nodded, Angel prompted him, "You're going to want to impress me right now by coming up with something nice and obedient to say."
Wesley tried. "Yes… sir?"
Angel mulled it over. "Nah. I like the way you say my name. Stick with that."
"Yes, Angel."
"Good boy," Angel told him. "Around the office we go on as before. I don't need a brainless zombie heading up your division. I need *you*. Even if that means telling me when my head's up my ass. How we run this place doesn't change. Got it?"
Wesley found himself almost hypnotized by the movement of Angel's lips. "Yes, Angel."
"I enjoy improvisation but I enjoy playing by the rules," Angel continued. "Show off for me all you like but when I tell you something is no-go you stop. If anything confuses you it will make me very happy if you ask questions. Not asking questions and fucking up means you do not care enough about my happiness. Good boys *always* care about my happiness. Are we clear on that?"
"Yes, Angel," Wesley said.
"You are my property," Angel said. "Which means you do whatever I like. Which also means that you are also Spike's little plaything." When Wesley looked startled, Angel cut him off. "Not because you're giving yourself to him like you are to me, but because I am *telling* you to do this. You want to show me some obedience, you let Spike put his hands on you whether or not *you* were planning on ignoring last night's little blowjob. Understood?"
Wesley's chest felt like it was surrounded by a boa constrictor. "Yes, Angel."
"The rules with Spike are simple," Angel said. "You do not say no to him. He knows his limits. If he tells you to do something, he knows it's allowed. There are only two exceptions, because I've met his willpower before. He cannot drink your blood in *any* form, and I don't care if it's catching a stray drop when you cut yourself shaving, and he can't put his dick anywhere inside you. Not without my permission, and believe me you'll know if he has it."
Wesley hesitated. "I - I don't understand. You think he might attempt those things? Is it my job to stop him?"
"He might," Angel said. "He'll be tempted. It is your job to remind him not to. He pushes his luck, you call me in. I don't care what I'm doing. You interrupt. Got it?"
"I - yes," Wesley hastily said. Then, curious, he asked, "What will happen?"
"Easy," Angel said. "He drinks your blood I rip his tongue out and he doesn't get it back for four weeks. He puts his dick anywhere in you I rip *that* off and same deal. I find out you helped him disobey and I'll make you do the surgery for me. Simple enough?"
Wesley swallowed. "Yes, Angel."
Angel brushed his hand against Wes's cheek. "Don't look so glum. I haven't lost the soul. I'm just *real* particular on fucking you first."
Wesley found himself smiling. "My desk just so happens to be handy."
"See?" Angel said. "Initiative, I like that."
Wesley felt light-headed. He reached out, tracing his fingers along the buttons of Angel's shirt. "Is this real? Angel, if this is a spell of some kind I'm not certain I can recover. I don't *want* this to be a spell."
In answer, Angel folded Wesley into his arms and kissed him. Wesley reacquainted himself with those wonderfully soft lips.
"Real as I am, Wes," Angel promised. He let Wesley go and walked to the door.
Wesley hand to press a hand against the wall to catch himself. "Angel?"
"I gotta go," Angel told him.
"I - " Wesley faltered. "What should I do?"
"Told you, out here it's business as usual," Angel reminded him. "You got things on your schedule, right?"
"Er, yes," Wesley said, belatedly remembering.
"There you go," Angel said. "Sounds like a plan to me. By the way," he added, giving a significant look down at Wes's pants. "You touch your dick *once* today for any reason other than going to the bathroom and I am *really* going to be disappointed in you."
Wesley blushed, embarrassed that his immediate plans had been that transparent. "Yes, Angel."
Angel smiled. "Good boy." He flung open Wes's doors and proceeded into the outer office area without even breaking a stride. "Harmony, if my ten o'clock isn't here I want to see his head on my desk by 10:15 and I'm not all that particular about whether it's attached to his body. And tell Fred we're pushing her appointment up to 10:30."
Wesley stared after him, still somewhat dazed. He realized that Spike was leaning against his doorway, and probably had been the entire time to make sure that they weren't interrupted.
As though reading his thoughts, Spike grinned. "Welcome to the family, pet."
_bettina_. It's Wes, and he's wearing a coat 8)In addition to that I present you with part two of the new indulgence fic!
PART TWO
There had been, over the course of the three plus decades of Wesley's life, more than one occasion when he had opened his eyes to be completely unaware, at least for a moment, of how he had gotten to where he currently was. Sometimes this involved unusual sexual partners. Othertimes it involved demons.
This was, he hoped, the first time in his life in which it involved *both*.
Spike was the first thing to hove into view. The slim vampire lay sprawled along one side of the bed, a single arm draped over his face as though he'd swooned like a maiden in the century of his making. His mouth was open, though of course no snores came out of it.
Behind Wesley was Angel.
This, Wesley was ashamed to admit, was the thing which most captivated him.
He'd never really seen the vampire asleep. Not in any situation like this, certainly. Shaken him awake with quick, efficient movements when he'd been needed on a case now and then, passed out from injuries on more than one occasion, but not like this. Not peaceful, and resting.
The curtains were open. Moonlight spilled across Angel's bare chest. Wesley realized, with absolute certainty, that if the events of the evening were that of a fairy tale, then there was no doubt as to who was the handsome prince. He raised a hand, longing to touch the shape of Angel's face, draw fingers across those lips which Wesley knew, now, were impossibly soft, and kiss Angel into wakefulness.
Wesley leaned in close enough to do it that he could feel the warmth of his own breath against Angel's skin.
He leaned in - almost - then pulled away.
This could *not* be done.
No. No. This - this *whatever* it had been was not to be comprehended. Too impossible. Too improbable. It was something out of a spell or a dream and Wesley found himself unable to bear the thought of what would happen when he wasn't the only one to wake from it.
He crawled his way out of the bed, sliding carefully down the middle so as not to disturb the slumbering vampires. He squinted, gathered his clothes, then made his way to Angel's private elevator, not even stopping to dress until the doors were safely closed behind him.
Then, alone at last, he caught his breath and closed his eyes. He forced all thoughts of what had happened out of his mind, concentrating only on getting to the showers by the office gym, then changing into his spare clothes. Somehow that made him feel that everything would be all right.
***
When Spike woke up he was alone.
Trying to take stock of things, he rubbed his eyes and glanced around. Angel was standing by the windows, shoulders tight, clearly in the middle of a big brooding.
"Forget the fiber this morning?" Spike asked. He was rewarded with one of Angel's less-pleased glares. Spike cast about, trying to find some sort of explanation, then realized the answer when his hearing came up with a resounding silence where a heartbeat should have been. "Huh. Seem to be short one mortal in the morning."
Angel kept glaring at him.
Spike sat up, running a hand through his hair. "You know, you wouldn't have this problem if you leashed 'em from the start. I keep telling you and - "
Amazing how the old bastard could cut you off without moving a bloody inch.
"Fine, fine," Spike said, getting out of bed. He started to head for the shower but aborted the movement when Angel's look made it *very* clear that that was not the path to happy Spikes. "All *right* already. I get it. Angel grumpy. Spike go fetch. Honestly, it's like being buggered by bloody Tarzan sometimes."
Still more silence.
"You're welcome," Spike said, rolling his eyes as he waited for the lift.
***
Wesley was in his office when Spike appeared.
"Morning," he said, conversationally.
Wesley jerked, startled. He immediately checked to be certain his office door was closed - which it had been *before* the vampire's arrival but clearly that hadn't mattered in terms of privacy. Thankfully the blinds were still drawn on all the glass that normally exposed his office to the common area. "Spike."
"One and only," Spike agreed. He leaned against the filing cabinet that Wesley had been looking through. He gave Wesley an appraising look. "You know, I wouldn't have pegged you for a runner, pet."
"I'm not," Wesley immediately replied, his pride stung. "I didn't. I - there was a meeting."
"Right," Spike said, drawing the word out over several syllables. He indicated the file folder in Wesley's hands. "Wouldn't want to keep the paperclips waiting."
"Is there something I can help you with?" Wesley asked. He shut the cabinet drawer and tried to give the appearance of someone who had pressing things he could be doing.
"There was but you decided to have a meeting with the invisible people instead," Spike replied, opening his arms up wide to indicate how they were the only ones in the room. Then he frowned, poking at the air as though expecting to touch something. "Actually, 'round this place that could happen. We *are* alone, right?"
In spite of himself, Wesley felt his mouth twitch in a smile. "Yes. We're alone."
"Good," Spike said. "Wouldn't want anyone eavesdropping. Gets messy, people knowing your secrets."
"Spike, if you are suggesting that you are going to *tell* anyone about - "
"You know," Spike continued, as though he wasn't listening, "the first time I met Angelus I told myself 'Here's a right old bastard'. Hated the man. Pompous arsehole, through and through."
Not entirely certain why Spike felt the need to saunter down memory lane, Wesley perched on the edge of his desk and listened. "But that changed."
"What?" Spike asked. "Like Hell it did. Still *is* a pompous arsehole. Can't take *that* out of the man, let me tell you."
"You don't hate him anymore?" Wesley guessed.
"Wouldn't go that far," Spike said, holding up his hand like someone stopping traffic. Then, seeing Wesley's disapproving frown, he waved off the show of concern. "Not saying I'd *off* the bastard. Just some nights it's real tempting to try to do damage to that stone skull he's sporting around."
"I'm sure I don't know what that feels like," Wesley told him.
Now it was Spike whose mouth twitched in a smile. "I'll bet you don't."
"You were saying?" Wesley prompted him.
"Hated the man," Spike said, picking up his train of thought. "It was cats and dogs, him and me. All sorts of hissing and scratching if you get what I mean."
"I think so," Wesley said. "What happened?"
"Bloody bastard made me come," Spike said, plopping down onto a chair. He propped his boots up on Wesley's desk. "Then I *really* hated him."
Wesley wondered what sort of reaction was expected at a moment like that. "Oh."
"Tragic irony, I'm telling you," Spike said. "Man's a bloody genius. Wouldn't know it for all the puppies he's offed in the name of artistic schemes of torment, but what he can do with a whip is not to be believed, I'm here to say."
"Spike - "
"'course that's true on either side of the equation," Spike admitted. "But I figure you Watcher types know all about the torture. It's the *other* stuff that doesn't make the records. Mostly 'cause he either killed 'em when he was done or 'cause Dru was too crazy to chat about it and I sure as bloody Hell wasn't going to do his ego a stroke by penning a novel or twelve about the way his hands can go straight to your dick, even when he's not exactly touching you."
"Spike - "
"I mean the first year of my unlife, pet, was not to be believed," Spike continued. "And that was just for starters. Once I learned a trick or two there were *years* there of nothing but - "
"Spike - "
" - seeing the back of my skull while he's using that bloody tripod of his like a battering ram and - "
"*Spike* - "
" - let's not forget that little thing he does with his tongue which - "
"Spike!" Wesley snapped, not wanting this to go on any further.
Blond eyebrows quirked up as the vampire grinned. "Yes?"
"What precisely does this have to do with me?" Wesley asked.
"You?" Spike said. He settled down more comfortably in his chair, his eyes never leaving Wesley's face. "Ah yeah, you. Right nice one, you were. All randy and warm. Mewling like a newborn kit. Lovely present for my night, I've gotta say."
Wesley refused to let himself color. "Thank you. Now perhaps that's *all* which needs to be said?"
Spike chuckled. "Hardly. Christ, luv. I swallow just right and I can still feel you in the back of my throat. Taste you too, for that matter." Spike's eyes traveled downward. "Makes a man want a repeat, that."
Wesley stood up, staring Spike down. "I won't be spoken to in this manner. If you somehow think that the activities of last night give you some *right* to - "
"Easy, pet," Spike said. He held up his hands, innocently. "Not touching you, am I? Nothing to be afraid of. Big, bad vampire's not gonna hurt you. Not allowed. Don't have permission."
Wesley frowned. "Permission?"
"How's about you get the Hell out of here, Spike?" Angel's voice cut in between them, making them both look towards the door.
Spike stood up, leaving without question. "Took you long enough. Not that bloody hard to find him in his own office, you know."
"Go pretend to be useful," Angel said.
"Nice suit," Spike drawled, with a pointed look at Angel's outfit.
Angel replied to that by casually closing the doors behind him.
Which left Wesley and Angel alone.
Wesley found himself longing for the invisible people.
"Angel - " Wesley started.
"Morning, Wes," Angel replied, walking into the room. He hooked his thumbs into his pockets. "What's new?"
Wesley opened and closed his mouth, trying to imagine how Angel wanted him to reply. "The cafeteria is serving eggplant?" he offered.
"You like eggplant?" Angel asked.
"Occasionally," Wesley told him.
"Good to know," Angel replied.
There was silence. Wesley waited for Angel to say more. When nothing was forthcoming, he wondered if this was meant to be no more than their usual AM catch-up. "I've got the report back on the Yamamoto case."
"Oh?" Angel said. He came forward, motioning for Wesley to hand over the information. Wesley retrieved the binder from his inbox and gave it to him, watching as Angel turned through the pages. "Wanna bottom-line all these flowcharts?"
"There's two avenues we could take, both currently seem to be equally fatal," Wesley said. "We're still working on avenue three. Fortunately we have until the next new moon to find something."
"Good," Angel said. He flipped the binder closed and handed it back. "Think we can drop this in closed cases in half the time?"
"I'm sure of it," Wesley told him.
"Excellent," Angel replied. "So do you *always* come up to my kitchen to jerk off or is that a new thing?"
"Oh God," Wesley said. The world had *definitely* been kicked out from underneath him.
"Because if it's going to be a habit, I could loan you a key," Angel pointed out.
"Oh God," Wesley repeated. He pressed a hand to his eyes, then forced himself to face Angel. "Angel, I am sorry. Last night was - I never intended - "
"Did we have a meeting?" Angel asked. He seemed genuinely curious. "I don't remember a meeting."
"We didn't," Wesley admitted. "I was working late, I had a question, I thought I could see if you were awake - "
"You know there *are* phones," Angel reminded him.
"In the clarity of hindsight, yes," Wesley said. "Angel, I'm sorry. I never meant to interrupt or intrude upon your private time."
"Interrupt all you like," Angel said. "I know you. You're not frivolous. So what's the question?"
"It's completely slipped my mind," Wesley confessed.
Angel nodded. "Fair enough. Lemme know if it comes back."
"Angel, last night was - " Wesley tried to find words to express himself. "What I am trying to say is that we are both adults. I am sure we can come to some kind of an understanding. I am completely willing to do whatever it might take to put the awkwardness of this incident behind us."
"Really?" Angel asked.
"Really," Wesley promised.
Angel flexed his jaw, taking that in. "Okay. Bend over."
"Pardon?"
"You said no awkward," Angel told him. "I'm saying okay. It's pretty awkward to me that last night I didn't fuck you. Bend over."
"I'm in no mood to be made fun of," Wesley said, turning to walk away.
"You notice me laughing?"
Wesley stopped, because he realized this was true.
"Are we friends, Wes?" Angel asked, his brown eyes deep with sincerity.
"Of course," Wesley said at once.
"I'm your friend," Angel clarified, still looking for confirmation. "You consider me your friend."
"I consider you my dearest friend," Wesley told him. "That's why I - "
Angel shook his head, cutting him off. "You're my friend too. I trust you. I look at you and I feel certain about things. I like that. I feel really comfortable with it."
"As do I," Wesley told him.
"That," Angel said, pointing in the direction of the rest of the office, "that is not certain. That is a very big, thirty story pile of uncertainty. That is day in, day out, things that are trying to throw me. That I do not like."
"You're doing a wonderful job," Wesley assured him.
"Thanks," Angel said. He began to walk around the room, occasionally touching the trinkets that Wesley had scattered around by way of decoration. "You know the funny thing is I actually enjoy it. It's a challenge. I like challenges. But challenges need a focus. I can't beat this thing if I'm distracted."
"That sounds reasonable," Wesley said, uncertain of where this was going.
"So I like *removing* distractions," Angel said. He made a gesture of finality. "Something's up in the air and I can cut it down? That makes me happy. You on board for me being happy?"
"To an extent," Wesley said.
Angel acknowledged the joke. "To an extent. So, to *that* extent. you and I need to work on making me happy. Because the way things stand after last night does not make me happy."
Wesley came forward, trying to catch Angel's eye. "I told you, I am willing to do whatever it takes to make this comfortable between us."
"Are you?" Angel asked. His eyes were darker, more solid. Almost the color of his suit. "See that's the thing I'm not so sure about. Because what you're willing to do might not be what I'm really comfortable with."
"What are you comfortable with, then?" Wesley asked.
"You," Angel said. "Your big brain. Your loyalty. Your humor. The way you look when you're cracking a case. The way you move when you're knee-deep in killing something. The way you felt when you came in my arms last night. All that makes me *real* comfortable."
Wesley swallowed. He didn't know if he'd backed up or if Angel had moved forward, but either way there was now a wall behind him and nothing but vampire in front. "I - "
"But that's not really the right question," Angel continued. He placed one hand against the wall, blocking the way to the door. "Because it's not about what I'm *comfortable* with. It's about what I'm *uncomfortable* with. And what I am uncomfortable with is this pissant little tendency you have to decide for yourself that one day you're just going to pack up and leave and do your own fucking thing because in *your* screwed-up head that's going to make me happy."
Wesley's mouth was dry. He shook his head, trying to imagine what on earth Angel could be talking about. "I - Angel, I *wouldn't* - "
"You could, you would," Angel said, brooking no arguments about it. "You can. You could walk out that door right now and there isn't a thing I could do to stop you. And that makes me uncomfortable."
"Angel - "
"I don't want that," Angel said. Both hands were on either side of Wesley now, caging him in. "What I want, what's going to make this *right* for me, is an answer. And it's an answer to a very specific question. Do you, Wesley, want the right to walk out that door whenever you want, or do you want to make me comfortable by giving me every right you ever had? Because what *truly* makes me comfortable, Wes, is a place where I don't have to worry about a damn thing because I *own* you. Mind, heart, body and soul. From your best creative idea to the tiniest drops of come that leak from your dick. All. Mine. Am I making myself clear here?"
Wesley's heart was thundering. "Yes," he managed.
"I want that," Angel told him. "I've wanted it for four years. I want a place where when I tell you to bend over your desk we're not fucking around with small talk. I want a place where when you're there when I'm asleep then you are *there* when I wake up, and you're not leaving me again because of that god-damned free will you're so addicted to using. I want a place where every breath you breathe happens because I allow it."
"Angel - " Wesley whispered.
Angel kept going. "But here's the catch. I kinda *like* your free will. Because I like the part where you're not obligated to me. Where you don't hate me because I did this to you. So what we have here is a choice. *You* have a choice. And you're going to need to choose wisely because no matter what you pick I am *never* asking again. I've got enough grey areas to battle with. I'm counting on you to give me some black and white. And no matter what you pick, I promise I'm not going to hate you."
"I understand," Wesley told him. There was no way for their bodies to be closer now without actual physical contact.
"The choice is this," Angel said, not even blinking as he spoke. "Do you want us to forget last night ever happened and go on about our lives just as we did before, or do you want to become my property right here and right now? And just so I am making myself *crystal* clear, Wes, what I'm telling you is this: In the world of kink, you get a safety word. Say it, and it all stops. Because you're my friend, I'm giving you that chance. But this is it. Either you say the word right now, or you *never* get the chance to say no to me again. So I want you to dig deep in that big brain of yours, and tell me what you want. Speak now, or forever hold your peace."
"Please," Wesley said. He wanted to touch Angel but felt as though his hands were pinned to his sides. "Angel, God - I don't *want* the bloody word. I thought - I never thought that you - "
"Wes," Angel said, and for the first time Wesley realized the tight control the vampire was keeping on himself. "Make this black and white for me. Yes or no."
"Yes!" Wesley told him. "Angel, yes. Please. I want it. I want everything you say. If you had any idea how much - "
"Show me," Angel replied. "Prove it. Prove you're not going to be cursing me in the morning, because so fucking help me - "
At once Wesley knew what to do. He moved to drop to his knees and provide the obvious services.
Angel stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Not exactly what I had in mind, but I like your initiative. Maybe later." He searched Wesley's eyes, looking intently enough that Wesley felt as though Angel could read his thoughts. "You really want this? Mine, utterly and completely?"
"Get Gunn in here," Wesley told him. "I'll sign a contract. With blood, if necessary."
A half-smile curled Angel's lips. He moved his hand up, caressing Wesley's mouth with his thumb. "Something mystically binding? I just might. But so far I like what I see."
"Then give me the chance to prove myself," Wesley said. "I'll make you proud of me."
"You always do," Angel told him. He bent forward and brushed the lightest kiss over Wesley's lips.
Wesley dared to reach up and rest his hands on Angel's arms. The muscles there were rock hard. He tried to pull Angel closer but found he had no luck at it.
"Ah, ah, ah," Angel corrected. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. You need to learn the ground rules. And don't make me have to repeat them. I don't like it. I shouldn't have to, since they're real simple: Around here, what I say goes. I tell you to do something, you do it. I tell you to be somewhere, you go there. You do not think, you do not argue, you *do*, get it?" When Wesley only nodded, Angel prompted him, "You're going to want to impress me right now by coming up with something nice and obedient to say."
Wesley tried. "Yes… sir?"
Angel mulled it over. "Nah. I like the way you say my name. Stick with that."
"Yes, Angel."
"Good boy," Angel told him. "Around the office we go on as before. I don't need a brainless zombie heading up your division. I need *you*. Even if that means telling me when my head's up my ass. How we run this place doesn't change. Got it?"
Wesley found himself almost hypnotized by the movement of Angel's lips. "Yes, Angel."
"I enjoy improvisation but I enjoy playing by the rules," Angel continued. "Show off for me all you like but when I tell you something is no-go you stop. If anything confuses you it will make me very happy if you ask questions. Not asking questions and fucking up means you do not care enough about my happiness. Good boys *always* care about my happiness. Are we clear on that?"
"Yes, Angel," Wesley said.
"You are my property," Angel said. "Which means you do whatever I like. Which also means that you are also Spike's little plaything." When Wesley looked startled, Angel cut him off. "Not because you're giving yourself to him like you are to me, but because I am *telling* you to do this. You want to show me some obedience, you let Spike put his hands on you whether or not *you* were planning on ignoring last night's little blowjob. Understood?"
Wesley's chest felt like it was surrounded by a boa constrictor. "Yes, Angel."
"The rules with Spike are simple," Angel said. "You do not say no to him. He knows his limits. If he tells you to do something, he knows it's allowed. There are only two exceptions, because I've met his willpower before. He cannot drink your blood in *any* form, and I don't care if it's catching a stray drop when you cut yourself shaving, and he can't put his dick anywhere inside you. Not without my permission, and believe me you'll know if he has it."
Wesley hesitated. "I - I don't understand. You think he might attempt those things? Is it my job to stop him?"
"He might," Angel said. "He'll be tempted. It is your job to remind him not to. He pushes his luck, you call me in. I don't care what I'm doing. You interrupt. Got it?"
"I - yes," Wesley hastily said. Then, curious, he asked, "What will happen?"
"Easy," Angel said. "He drinks your blood I rip his tongue out and he doesn't get it back for four weeks. He puts his dick anywhere in you I rip *that* off and same deal. I find out you helped him disobey and I'll make you do the surgery for me. Simple enough?"
Wesley swallowed. "Yes, Angel."
Angel brushed his hand against Wes's cheek. "Don't look so glum. I haven't lost the soul. I'm just *real* particular on fucking you first."
Wesley found himself smiling. "My desk just so happens to be handy."
"See?" Angel said. "Initiative, I like that."
Wesley felt light-headed. He reached out, tracing his fingers along the buttons of Angel's shirt. "Is this real? Angel, if this is a spell of some kind I'm not certain I can recover. I don't *want* this to be a spell."
In answer, Angel folded Wesley into his arms and kissed him. Wesley reacquainted himself with those wonderfully soft lips.
"Real as I am, Wes," Angel promised. He let Wesley go and walked to the door.
Wesley hand to press a hand against the wall to catch himself. "Angel?"
"I gotta go," Angel told him.
"I - " Wesley faltered. "What should I do?"
"Told you, out here it's business as usual," Angel reminded him. "You got things on your schedule, right?"
"Er, yes," Wesley said, belatedly remembering.
"There you go," Angel said. "Sounds like a plan to me. By the way," he added, giving a significant look down at Wes's pants. "You touch your dick *once* today for any reason other than going to the bathroom and I am *really* going to be disappointed in you."
Wesley blushed, embarrassed that his immediate plans had been that transparent. "Yes, Angel."
Angel smiled. "Good boy." He flung open Wes's doors and proceeded into the outer office area without even breaking a stride. "Harmony, if my ten o'clock isn't here I want to see his head on my desk by 10:15 and I'm not all that particular about whether it's attached to his body. And tell Fred we're pushing her appointment up to 10:30."
Wesley stared after him, still somewhat dazed. He realized that Spike was leaning against his doorway, and probably had been the entire time to make sure that they weren't interrupted.
As though reading his thoughts, Spike grinned. "Welcome to the family, pet."
