Pet, Part Four

[thebratqueen]

I give you the latest installment of my kinkalicious indulgence fic, which I have taken to calling "Pet":



PART FOUR

"I'm not happy about this," Angel was saying as Wesley walked into his private conference area. The vampire was standing, his shirtsleeves rolled up. He gestured to himself. "Does this look like my happy face?" Then absently, he added, "Hey, Wes."

Lorne, whom Angel had been talking to, muttered, "Not like we can ever tell the difference between that and your constipated one."

Angel, clearly more annoyed by the situation in general than by the comment, said, "Wanna run that by me again?"

Gunn interrupted before that digression could go any further. "We could change the contracts. Get him the deal he wants."

Lorne nodded, happy to go along with it. "There's worse fates in life, big guy. I mean so what if one more really crappy movie gets made? You think anybody in Peoria is going to tell the difference?"

"*I'm* going to tell the difference," Angel said. He placed both hands on his side of the table, leaning forward. "I'm going to tell the difference because some jerkoff little actor on our client list was able to get *me* jumping through hoops all because he's got his own nuclear weapon. How does he even *get* his own nuclear weapon? *I* don't have a nuclear weapon!" Angel paused, frowning. He turned to Wesley. "Do I?"

Wesley shrugged from his position by the doorway. "I don't believe so. Of course that would be Fred's department more than mine. I could ask?"

"No, no," Angel said. He straightened up, rubbing his eyes. "Don't ask. I don't wanna know. I wanna live in a world where I can't accidentally blow up the city if I screw up the way I work my coffee maker. Actually, today that's a real fine line but for now let's go with it. Lorne, stall your guy as long as possible. Tell him whatever, just do it. Gunn, this guy can't even *act* so the chances of him knowing how to work a bomb are pretty slim. Get your people on it. Track the money. Who gave him this thing, who's protecting this thing, does he even have people on his payroll who know how to use it? Then, once you find out who's behind *that* - "

Gunn was already standing and gathering his papers, "Flash a little Wolfram & Hart power, make an offer they can't refuse, and send jerkoff client off into the sunset."

"Music to my ears," Angel said. "And if he should just so happen to die while you're doing it - "

Wesley cleared his throat.

"It *might* be a shame," Angel grudgingly conceded. He wiped his hands together as though dusting them off. "Okay, go. Save the world. I've got a meeting in twenty I've got to get ready for. Wes, you stay."

"We still on for two?" Gunn asked as he and Lorne filed out.

Wesley nodded. "I've got it in my planner. My office, I'll see you then."

"I hate everyone," Angel declared, as soon as he and Wesley were alone. He sat down in his chair, the perfect picture of discontent. "I mean it. Everybody. Except you. Come here."

"No, you don't," Wesley told him. He came forward and immediately found himself snatched up by Angel's hands and placed on the table in front of him. Angel then sat up and kissed him hungrily, which put to rest any questions Wesley might have had about the nature of this meeting.

"Yes, I do," Angel said. He ran hands up and down the outside of Wesley's thighs. "I hate everybody except you. You I like. Because of you I *won't* get out that nuclear weapon."

"I’m sure the rest of the world appreciates this," Wesley said. He massaged his hands over Angel's shoulders, then tutted disapprovingly. "You're completely wound up."

"Been a long day," Angel admitted, arching his back into the touch.

"Did Spike take care of you this morning?" Wesley asked, then marveled at how it had only taken a scant couple of weeks for their unusual situation to settle into a mundane routine where Wesley felt completely at ease monitoring the frequency of Angel's blowjobs.

"I was busy," Angel said.

Wesley gave him a sharp look. "*Angel* - "

"I *was*!" Angel retorted. He gestured angrily at the files that were still scattered over the table. "Think jerkoff boy cares about my morning wake-up calls?"

"*I* care," Wesley said. He drew Angel closer. "We can't have you so irritated that you're killing our clients just to make yourself feel better."

"Why not?"

"Because I said so," Wesley replied, smoothly. "As your business partner I won't allow it."

"Too bad," Angel said, moving a hand up Wesley's inner thigh now. "Because I can't really think of anything my *business partner* is going to be able to do about it."

Wesley allowed himself to be moved closer to the edge of the table. "Fortunately I have many job titles."

"Lucky thing," Angel agreed. He undid the front of Wesley's pants. "How much time do I have?"

Wesley checked his watch. "Fifteen minutes."

"We can do this," Angel decided. He pushed Wesley back against the table, then bent his head to Wesley's cock.

In the course of their time together Wesley could not comprehend why for Angel this action was pleasurable. One would have assumed that in a situation such as theirs it would constantly be the reverse - Wesley taking care of Angel's needs. But for some reason Angel enjoyed returning the favor and if he wanted to insist upon it Wesley was more than happy to suffer.

Wesley leaned back, resting against his elbows as Angel's lips and tongue worked his erection. Wesley whimpered, squirming as much as he could, feeling the sweat that dotted his skin as Angel made his entire body warmer. This was the sort of thing that Angel could do for hours, but they weren't blessed with that much time to play with. Instead Angel worked him quickly, hitting all the right buttons, and it wasn't long before Wesley cried out and Angel was swallowing and licking his lips.

"Better," Angel declared.

Wesley immediately checked his watch. "Eight minutes."

Angel started to protest, but Wesley paid no attention to it. He pushed himself off of the table and got to his knees, taking care not to bump his head against the table's edge. With hands that were now as experienced at this as they were at assembling his favorite weapons, Wesley quickly undid Angel's trousers and took his cock out in turn.

Angel reached down, rubbing his hand along the back of Wesley's neck as Wesley began to work. He murmured soft encouragements, and Wesley sighed with pleasure. There were times when he felt that he could quit *all* of his jobs and simply do this for the rest of his life. It was hard to find a fault with it.

Angel grew hard and thick in his mouth. Wesley adjusted himself as needed. He sucked, and swirled his tongue, and scraped his teeth until he felt that wonderful tension start to build and -

"Angel, your eleven o'clock is here."

Wesley nearly choked. Angel's hand kept him right in place.

"Harm," Angel said, with all the patience in the world. "Didn't we have a talk about knocking before you come into my office?"

"I did," Harmony told him.

Realizing that he, personally, was trapped during all this, Wesley decided to simply continue what he was doing. The pressure of Angel's hand on the back of his neck told him this had been the right choice.

"And what does it tell you when I don't answer?" Angel asked.

"That you're dead?" Harmony guessed. "Well, you know, *more* dead. Like dusty. Or that you're not in. Or that you've been captured by some enemy that's got a stake to your chest and might be ready to kill you if you make one sound. Or - "

"Harm?"

"Yeah?"

"I'll see my eleven o'clock at eleven o'clock at not before. Go fetch them some coffee or something."

"I don't think they drink coffee," Harmony said.

"Then that's going to fall under the 'or something'. Now go do it and make sure nobody else interrupts me."

There was a pause, and Wesley imagined Harmony looking around the empty table and wondering what it is she was interrupting.

Or - and here Wesley's rhythm stumbled for a moment - wondering where that heartbeat was coming from.

As though reading his thoughts, Angel stroked a gentle thumb down the column of Wesley's throat. Wesley banished worry from his mind and focused upon his task.

"Hookay," Harmony said. There was the sound of footfalls, and then the door closing.

Before Angel could say anything, Wesley redoubled his efforts. It wasn't long before Angel's hold became stronger, his hips began to thrust, and then he came with a long, quiet groan. "God, Wes…."

Wesley swallowed as best as he was able, then pressed a hand to his mouth and tried to stifle himself.

Angel peered under the table, worriedly. "Wes?"

Wesley shook his head, unable to control his laughter. "I'm sorry, Angel. It's just - sometimes you have to give in to the absurdity."

Angel chuckled and took Wes by the hand, pulling him in for a kiss.

***

Later, Wesley walked into his office to find a large bouquet of roses on his desk. He opened the card, and immediately recognized Angel's handwriting. On one side it said "Mine" and on the other "Midnight".

"Secret admirer?" Gunn asked, arriving just in time for their meeting.

"Grateful client," Wesley answered, slipping the card into his pants pocket.

***

The sound of the television told Wesley everything he needed to know about who was in Angel's flat.

"Hello, Spike," he called out.

"Evenin'," Spike called back.

Wesley went to join the vampire in the livingroom. Spike's feet were propped up on the coffee table, boots still on. "Angel's not in yet?"

"Nope," Spike replied. "Said to keep an eye on you. Keep you amused." Spike looked Wesley up and down. "You amused?"

"Tolerably so," Wesley assured him. "Will he be long?"

Spike took a long drink out of a bottle of beer that had been dangling from his fingers. "Dunno. Not my job to keep a tracker on him. 's what you lot get paid for."

"Angel doesn't like them," Wesley said. He moved over to sit on the arm of the couch, trying to discern what Spike was watching. "Pity, as they were actually rather useful."

"No getting Da to do something once his mind's made up," Spike agreed.

"Like blowjobs, for instance."

"Like blowjobs, for - hang about," Spike swiveled his head around, looking up at Wesley. "Blowjobs?"

"He was cranky this morning," Wesley accused.

Spike gave a bark of laughter. "Don't blame me, pet. I did my job."

"You most certainly did not," Wesley said. "I could tell."

Spike rolled his eyes. "I did my job as best I could considering that Angel's a thick-headed pillock. That enough for you? And since when do you get a say anyway? Way I remember it *I'm* in charge of *you* when the cat's away."

"Possibly," Wesley said. "But when *I'm* away I'd like to trust that he's taken care of. That he won't be left - "

The world spun as Spike drew Wesley into his lap, positioning him so that Wesley straddled the vampire's hips. Spike's hands stayed on Wesley's arms, holding him still.

"No 'possibly' about it, pet," Spike told him, his eyes locked on Wesley's. "Da's away, you do as I tell you. That understood?"

Wesley's breath caught. "Yes, Spike."

Spike's grins were far more feral than Angel's, at times. "Good. Why don't you keep *me* amused, then?"

And then they were kissing. It wasn't the third or even tenth time they had done this, but even still Wesley had to fight the urge to stop. It felt *wrong*, somehow, to be kissing Spike in this manner. Worse this time, when he could feel Spike growing hard underneath him. Wesley wanted to pull away, but Spike caught him, positioning one hand over Wesley's erection and dancing his fingers over it in a manner that sent Wesley's willpower far, far away. He moved into the touch, then made a sound of irritated frustration when Spike wouldn't satisfy him.

"Not about *your* pleasure, pet," Spike reminded him, lips tracing over Wesley's ear. "Though you do make quite a picture."

Blowjobs and penetration were still strictly forbidden. All Wesley had left was what Spike had just offered him. He moved his hand down and reluctantly began to stroke the vampire's cock.

Spike continued to breathe and bite along Wesley's neck. "No need to be shy. Remember, Da told you to make me happy."

It was a good memory to have, because in truth he felt *guilt* at moments like this. One night stands aside, Wesley had never been this much of a sexual butterfly. One man, one partner as it were. He had a hard time comprehending pleasing two people at once.

Particularly when both of them, in their own way, managed to please him.

It felt disloyal to Angel somehow.

Wesley's face must have shaped itself with guilt, because Spike made a cooing sound and traced fingertips down Wesley's chest. "Now, now. Think about it. Do you really think Da ordered this to make you unhappy? Or - " and here Spike's hand dropped lower, and provided the most wonderful vibrations against Wesley's dick " - do you think he guessed you might like it?"

Before Wesley could answer, Spike leaned in to whisper, as though telling a secret, "I think maybe it was you enjoying my mouth what gave it away."

Wesley turned his head, catching Spike a hungry kiss. Spike wrapped his arms around Wesley, rocking his hips upward as their bodies fell into a frustrating tangle. For a moment it was easy to forget the guilt. To think only of one man, one vampire, and the pleasure of a mouth that had managed to keep Angel more than content for decades.

"Now isn't this nice?"

Wesley broke away, looking up to see Angel standing there. "Angel - "

Spike couldn't be bothered. Instead he sucked on Wesley's throat, barely getting out a passing "'lo, Da."

Angel walked in. He ran a hand through Wesley's hair, sparing a smile for him. "Having fun, boy?"

The tone made it clear the question was for Spike. He answered by pinching one of Wesley's nipples until he gasped. "Yeah, he's a bit of all right."

"Bring him to the bedroom," Angel ordered, then disappeared.

Spike grinned up at him, depositing Wesley down onto the floor. "You heard the man. Come along, pet."

In the bedroom Angel was shucking his own clothes until all that was left were the trousers from his suit. Wesley noticed the body language which suggested a *less* than enjoyable evening on Angel's part, but when he moved forward to offer comfort, Angel immediately shook his head.

"Get him on the bed," he told Spike, busying himself by pouring a scotch. "Strip him. Don't make him come."

"Wanna be a bit more specific?" Spike asked. "I could go back to my *room* and not make him come."

Angel might have smirked at that. "Use your imagination. But hold him down."

"One hand tied behind my back then," Spike muttered, rolling his eyes a bit. "Right."

Angel's mood was so brusque that Wesley worried, wondered if perhaps he himself had done something wrong. It wasn't like him to become as hands off as he was suggesting.

"Don't worry about it, pet," Spike told him, speaking in sotto voice as he tugged Wesley's clothes off. "He just wants a little show. You can do that for him, right?"

And, when put like that, Wesley knew that he could.

Angel sat down in a thick leather armchair, nursing his scotch as Spike got to work. After Wesley's clothes were taken care of, Spike pushed Wesley back onto the bed.

"I bet I know something our little toy would like," Spike told Angel. He wrapped his hands around Wesley's wrists, pinning them against the mattress, then bending to trail lips and tongue over Wesley's dick.

Angel made no reply. Other than the blinking of his eyes and the occasional movement of his tumbler, there was hardly any indication of life. Instead he was silent, indrawn, as solid as a statue. Wesley couldn't keep his eyes off of him, staring at his lover even as Spike tormented him with licks and fluttering touches. After a while Angel seemed to notice.

"Look at him, not me," Angel told him, his voice impassive.

It felt a little like rejection, but Wesley did it all the same. Spike looked up, his eyes trying to communicate something Wesley couldn't translate. When Wesley could offer no response, Spike settled for redoubling his efforts, swallowing Wesley whole then drawing his lips and teeth back with agonizing slowness, then repeating the gesture again and again until Wesley couldn't keep his eyes open at all and had to shut them tightly as his body trembled and writhed.

"No coming," Angel said, and Wesley knew it was a reminder for him now. He had to fight against what Spike was making him feel. That meant distracting himself as best he could, but there was only so long he could think of the week's spreadsheets before even the thought of a column labeled "A" was a bit too much for his libido.

Was talking allowed? He couldn't remember if he'd been ordered not to. He dared to try it. "Angel, please - "

"Hush," the command wasn't mean, but it wasn't what Wesley had been hoping for either. He bit his lower lip, trying to silence himself.

Spike had played this game before, clearly. He rode the peaks and valleys of Wesley's desires like an expert, knowing just the right time to speed up or slow down in order to draw Wesley's urges ever higher. Wesley found himself thinking of roller coasters, and the click-click-click of the car as it rose into the sky, building enough energy for -

"That's enough," the snap of Angel's voice was enough to make them both freeze in place. Spike, perhaps guessing what would come next, released Wesley's cock.

"Up against the wall," Angel told him.

Spike, so full of backtalk before, immediately obeyed. He flashed another look in Wesley's direction but yet again Wesley couldn't comprehend it.

Angel stood up, his glass forgotten. He grabbed Spike by the back of the throat and slammed him into the wall, the force enough to make even the bed vibrate. "You going to give me problems, boy?"

"No, Da," Spike replied.

Angel apparently didn't believe it. He growled, game facing, and struck Spike again.

Wesley remained caught where he was. He'd seen the two of them fight before, more times than he could count. But nothing like this. This was no petty sparring. Instead this was something purer. More animal.

More *vampire*.

Wesley suddenly understood what Spike had been trying to indicate: sometimes Angel had urges that Wesley *couldn't* fulfill.

The vampires moved together, snarling and growling. Spike was in game face as well, but for him the gesture was merely decorative. It was Angel who took advantage of strength and innate weapons, marking Spike with hands and fangs in a manner which would have been absolutely reprehensible had it been tried on a mortal, but which for Spike seemed to bring nothing but pleasure.

Wesley wondered what it meant that he found *himself* so aroused by it.

Angel became harsh, vicious. He struck Spike in ways that would have broken a human's bones - and in truth Wesley wasn't entirely certain that they didn't even on a vampire of Spike's endurance - but Spike only moaned, offered himself up and occasionally pleaded "Da, Jesus, please - "

Spike's clothes were torn away. He seemed far more vulnerable in his naked state. He thrust back against Angel, demanding more, and was rewarded with bruising hits for his troubles. Spike struggled, then, and Angel hit him even harder.

It would have been horrible if it wasn't so patently clear that both vampires were enjoying it.

Even Angel, who hadn't seemed so cold nor so cruel even when attempting to kill Wesley as Angelus, was obviously getting the *right* kind of pleasure from this. It was, Wesley realized, Angel's stress relief. The violence he wasn't allowed to do during the day to people who so clearly deserved it.

Wesley had never watched this before - not since the first night that had started all this - and he found himself enthralled by the understanding of Spike's place in Angel's life.

Finally, Angel noticed him.

"Touch yourself," Angel said, the sight of his fangs probably far more erotic to Wesley than they had any right to be. "But don't come."

Wesley obeyed, moving his hand slowly to keep himself from going over the very near edge.

Angel's trousers were undone. Lube was produced from somewhere. Fingers were completely ignored as Angel immediately plunged into Spike's ass with his cock. The younger vampire moaned, the sound starting out low then rising up the scales as Angel fucked him mercilessly, driving into him with a clear sight to his own pleasure and not that of his grandson's. The thrusts became harder, faster, then climaxed with a savage bite into Spike's throat as though the younger vampire were no more than a piece of meat to be dragged back home.

Spike whimpered, and cried out, his knuckles whiter than normal as his hands pressed forward, channeling his frustration into the wall as Angel drank and fucked his fill.

Then, once Angel was done, he pulled his fangs out and with blood-soaked lips told Spike: "Come."

Spike nearly fell over in his reaction.

Release was palpable in the air. The deep-rooted anger that had shaped Angel's system was gone. He pulled out of Spike, then guided him towards the bed, bundling him carefully in blankets. He then shook out of both game face and his clothes before sliding into bed beside Wesley.

"Poor Wes," he said, nuzzling Wesley's cheek. He moved his hand down to rub circles along Wesley's inner wrist. "You must be dying."

"Please," Wesley gasped.

Angel wrapped his other arm around him, placing soft kisses over Wesley's mouth. "Of course," he said, reaching lower still to nudge Wesley's hand aside. "Let me."

Wesley surrendered himself, letting Angel stroke him, and it was in no time at all that he felt himself come, ecstasy flooding his system.

"Good boy," Angel told him. He wrapped both arms around Wesley, holding him tight.

Wesley snuggled close, feeling at peace. "Thank you, Angel."

***