Pet, Part Twenty-Four

[thebratqueen]

PART TWENTY-FOUR

The blankets shifted.

"Think he's up?" Spike asked.

A groan came from somewhere around the middle of the mattress.

"He's up," Angel said.

Spike sat forward, addressing the lump in between them. "How you feeling, pet?"

More movement, then another groan.

"You know," Spike said, as though this had only just occurred to him, "he might have a hangover."

"He's got a hangover," Angel said. He reached out, doing his best to gently rub Wes's back through all the bedding. "Doing okay, Wes?"

"No," Wes replied, his voice muffled. He curled in tighter on himself. "God. Please kill me."

"Bad headache?" Angel asked.

"I'd like to be dead, please," Wes answered.

"Headache's part of the deal, pet," Spike said. "Drink like a man, feel it like a man. 'course not too sure about the *drinking* like a man part with you."

"You are both vampires," Wes said, ignoring Spike as he replied. "Known for being quite notorious in your time. I would think at least *one* of you could manage to murder me in some fashion."

"Got souls now, pet," Spike reminded him.

"Consider it a mercy killing."

"Nobody is killing anybody," Angel said.

"What if I was very good?"

"I got you something for the hangover," Angel said. He studied the amber vial that he held in his other hand.

Wes seemed to think about it. "From my department or Fred's?"

"Yours."

"Thank God," Wes replied. He reached a hand out from underneath the blanket. "Science doesn't know a bloody thing about curing these."

Angel gave him the vial. "You're supposed to drink it all."

"I'm supposed to drink *three*," Wesley said, "but the next dose is in an hour."

"Sound like a man of experience," Spike said.

"How do you think I got through school?" Wesley replied. There was movement as he drank, then finally climbed his way out of the covers. He blinked, letting his eyes adjust to the room. "Pitch black. Bless the both of you. I shall never say a harsh word about your kind ever again."

"You had harsh words before?" Angel asked.

"Surprisingly yes, considering how vampires are well-known for their multiple acts of charity and inability to slaughter members of my species," Wes pressed a hand to his eyes. "And perhaps I need to be talking more quietly. Ow."

"How long 'til that kicks in?" Angel asked, indicating the medicine.

"Twenty minutes for it to take full effect," Wesley said. "In the meanwhile I shall sit here and pray for the end to come, if that's all right with you? I promise I won't make any noise. You'll hardly know I'm here."

"I think next time you don't drink so much," Angel said.

"I think that's a smashing idea," Wesley agreed. He buried his head underneath one of the pillows.

"Next time he doesn't drink so much," Angel told Spike.

"He's a grown man, Da," Spike started, then stopped when he saw the look Angel shot him. "Right, right. Big tall glass of milk it is."

"Let's not talk about milk, please," Wesley said, moving the pillow enough to make himself heard. "Or pork products of any kind."

Angel and Spike shared a look. "Wes, we *weren't* - "

"I was being pre-emptive."

Angel couldn't help but smile. "Right."

"Water might be lovely," Wes said, then winced. "Or perhaps not. At some point. When I can move."

"We could order in dry toast," Angel said.

"We could *make* dry toast," Spike muttered.

"We could perhaps speak a *bit* more quietly?" Wesley begged. "I know it isn't my position to make demands, but - "

"We'll speak softer," Angel promised. He rubbed Wes's back again.

Wes leaned into the touch. "Angel, I shall repay you for this kindness."

"You don't repay," Angel said. "I take care of you. That's the deal."

"Even so I'm inclined to be generous."

"You don't get a choice about being generous," Angel reminded him. Then decided he didn't want to linger on the subject. "Feeling better yet?"

"Remember anything about last night?" Spike asked.

Angel shot him a death glare. Spike ignored it.

Wes, for his part, smiled. "I remember we shagged in the lift."

"You remember enjoying it?" Spike asked.

"Very much," Wesley said. "Though perhaps we could speak more about it later? Not that I dislike the subject but again thoughts of *movement* -

"We can shelve it for later, pet," Spike said.

"What else?" Angel asked.

Wes turned to him now. "Pardon?"

"What else do you remember?" Angel asked.

Wes thought about it. "Lift. Dancing. Vague memories of being at the bar." Wes frowned, an idea occurring to him. "Were you there?"

Angel blinked. "Huh?"

"At the club," Wesley clarified. "Were you there? I have this odd memory of - er - having you."

"Slightly scrambled memory, pet," Spike answered.

Wes looked up at Angel. "Or perhaps a hope for the future?"

Angel stood up. "I gotta go."

He didn't miss the look of disappointment in Wes's eyes. Nor the annoyance in Spike's. Regardless he moved out into the living room.

Spike was soon on his heels. "The Hell *you* need to go off to?"

"I have a meeting," Angel said.

"Don't seem to recall Harm buzzing up here to tell you you had visitors," Spike said.

Angel gave him a look, silently telling him to *drop* it already. "It's a phone conference."

"With who?"

"Some guy," Angel said. Then belatedly remembered that under the current plan he wasn't supposed to be meeting with any of their clients. He grabbed onto an excuse. "A designer."

"Meeting about clothes," Spike said. "Over the phone. And he can't pop 'round here because…?"

"He's in Kazakhstan," Angel snapped.

"Doing what?"

"Eating horse sausage," Angel shot back. "And it's not up for discussion. Take care of Wes."

"Could tell you the same thing, mate," Spike said. A groan from the other room distracted them. "This isn't finished."

"It is to me," Angel said. He stepped into the elevator and went into the relative safety of his office.

***

Relative safety lasted about two hours.

"Bloody *coward* you are," Spike said, not even bothering with a preamble as he entered Angel's office. "Bloody, sadistic, *selfish* - "

"You're going to want to shut up now," Angel told him.

"You're *toying* with him," Spike said. He made a grand gesture in the direction of the penthouse. "He's giving you all he's got and you are *toying* with him."

"What do you care?" Angel asked.

"Try that with someone who's not me," Spike said. "You forget I don't play your little games. You want mindless go play hide the pickle with any of those minions Harm's ferreting out for you. Sad to say for you I've got a brain."

"Says who?" Angel retorted.

"Angel," Spike said, leaning across the desk to make eye contact. "Normally you want to go for the self-flagellation I'd say go right ahead. Keeps your brooding arse out of my hair."

"There's *anything* that could get in your hair?" Angel asked.

Spike ignored him. "This is stupid, even for you."

"Didn't ask for your opinion."

"You hardly ever do," Spike replied. "Usually because you know I'm right."

"When has that *ever* happened?" Angel asked.

Spike gave him a look. "Don't go playing with that big rock, it's a bad idea?"

Angel had to concede it. "*One* idea in a century isn't that impressive."

"Then here's two," Spike said. "Try last night's conversation now that he's sober."

"Why do you *care*?"

Spike deftly avoided the question. "Point is *you* do."

Angel thought about it. "Does he remember any of it?"

Spike shook his head. "Not a bloody thing."

"Is he happy?"

"Glad the hangover's gone," Spike said, "but think you quashed any song in his heart when you left him without a word. Boy's mad for you, Da. Anyone with brains could see it. Which explains why you've yet to notice it, I suppose."

"It's not about that," Angel said.

"What *is* it about, then?"

"I'll talk to him later," Angel said, and he left the conversation at that.

***

Later was meetings. Real meetings this time, not fake calls to imaginary designers. Wes rejoined the world, looking tired around the eyes but otherwise not worse for wear. He bustled about, going from one end of the office to the other as he made sure all of the parts of the plan were falling into place.

There was a group meeting. Everyone coming to Angel's office to report in and touch base. Angel sat back, let them all talk, and then said, "Wes, I need to see you when this is done."

Wes had looked up, right in the middle of his note taking, and replied, "Yes, Angel."

Angel was pretty sure he saw Gunn give a quizzical look at that, but he was also pretty sure he didn't give a damn.

The meeting ended. Wes made his final comments to the others. Angel grabbed Spike by the shoulder and told him to make sure there were no interruptions. Spike nodded, passing word on to Harmony that Angel wasn't interested in taking any incoming calls.

Then everyone left, Angel sat down at his desk, and turned to face Wes.

Wes, for his part, moved to close the door, then stood in front of Angel's desk. Before Angel could say a word Wes folded his hands behind his back, positioning them as though they'd been tied there.

Angel stared at this.

Wes, for his part, took that for a question. "Yes, Angel?"

"You remembered," Angel said, indicating Wes's pose.

"It was a standing order, was it not?" Wesley asked.

"We're in the office."

"I believe you told me it was required whenever you and I are alone," Wesley said.

"I did," Angel told him. "I'm just impressed you remember. Come here."

Wes came around to the other side of the desk. Angel pushed him back, so that Wes was now sitting on front of him. It made for a nice view, but it put Wes off-balance.

"Hands on either side of you," Angel told him. Then clarified, "For now. I'm not changing the order."

Wes obeyed, resting his hands on the desk. "Yes, Angel."

They sat there. Time ticked on. Angel let his hands rest on Wes's thighs, thinking about the enormous mess he'd gotten himself into.

"I need you to be honest with me, Wes," Angel said at last.

Wes's eyebrows quirked, but he managed to still answer, "Yes, Angel."

"I know you *have* been," Angel assured him. "I'm not saying - actually, forget about what I'm not saying. Concentrate on now, okay?"

Wes's eyes looked troubled, but again he said, "Yes, Angel."

"Are you happy?"

There was a moment of silence. "I'm afraid I don't understand the nature of the question, Angel," Wesley said.

"With us, with this," Angel said. "This arrangement. Are you happy?"

"Angel I - " for some reason Wes caught himself, correcting the eagerness of his answer. "Angel, I am very happy with our arrangement."

Angel remembered Wes in his arms, confessing his misery that Angel didn't care for him. "Don't lie to me."

Wes shook his head, bewildered. "Angel, I'm not."

Wondering if Wes was trying to dick him over on semantics, Angel asked, "Are you *unhappy* with our arrangement?"

There. Another flicker in Wesley's eyes. "Angel - "

"Don't lie."

"I - " Wes faltered. "I - there are things I could be *happier* about, yes. There are thoughts which make me *unhappy*, yes."

"What things?" Angel asked. "What thoughts?"

"You wish my honest answer?" Wesley asked.

"I think I just ordered you to give it to me," Angel told him.

"Then the most honest answer I can give you is this," Wesley said, his gaze now unwavering. "I do not want this to end."

Angel sat back, studying him. "That's the thing that makes you unhappy?"

"I am not lying to you," Wesley said. "You wish to know what makes me most unhappy? It is the thought that you might end this."

Angel folded his arms. "And why would I do that?"

"I don't know," Wesley confessed. "But I fear it. Angel, I *want* this arrangement. To be a part of it is more than I ever imagined. To think of you ending it - "

"What did you imagine?" Angel asked.

Wes gave a guilty look as though caught. "Pardon?"

"You just said this was more than you ever imagined," Angel said. "What did you imagine?"

Wes became quieter. A slight flush touched his neckline. "Anything. I was open to anything."

"I'm open to hearing details," Angel said, his tone making it an order.

The flush crept higher. Wes swallowed. "Surely you knew that I wanted you?"

"I wondered," Angel admitted.

"I thought it was obvious," Wesley said.

"Tell me about it anyway," Angel said. "And keep your eyes on me. It's not up to you if I frosted over the windows or not."

Wes nodded, aborting his attempt to double check the status of their privacy. "Yes, Angel."

"In fact," Angel said, fully aware that no one could see them even if Wes thought otherwise, "close your eyes. I want you thinking about my voice and that's it. You let me worry about whether the entire office is watching you sit on my desk and act like my toy."

Wes obeyed, but there was a hitch in his breath. "Why must it be an act?"

Angel frowned. "I don't follow you."

"You ask why I worry that you would end this," Wesley said. "Your words right there are my answer. I *act* like your toy? Am I not *actually* your toy?"

"You are," Angel told him.

"Then remove all doubt," Wesley said. He squeezed his eyes tighter, as though forcing himself not to look. "Angel, please. I am unhappy because there is doubt. Because some day you might decide that you don't want me anymore, that you don't need me, that you - "

"Don't care?" Angel finished.

Wes became silent. Then whispered, "Yes, Angel."

Angel stood up. His hands stayed on Wes's thighs, holding him firmly. "You are mine, Wes. You *belong* to me."

"Yes, Angel."

"You aren't just a toy," Angel said. "I don't own just your body. I own *you*. Body, mind, and soul. Remember?"

Wes nodded. "Yes, Angel."

Angel chose his next words carefully. "You are my most *cherished* possession, Wes. The finest prize I could ever own. Now, or soulless. I would always want a boy like you."

Wes's heart was stuttering. Angel could feel the pulse of it underneath his fingertips. "Angel - "

Angel leaned in, nuzzling Wes's ear. "You want me to remove doubt? You want to know for certain that I own you?"

"Please," Wes sighed. "Yes, Angel. Please."

"Bare your throat to me," Angel said.

Wes did it at once. Angel didn't have to move his hands higher to know that the action had aroused Wes.

"Say that you're mine," Angel told him.

"I am yours, Angel," Wesley replied.

"Mine," Angel repeated. "No one else's."

Wes was shivering now. "Yes, Angel."

"Let's remove all doubt then," Angel said. He bent down and put his mouth to Wes's throat.

Wes gasped, his heart doing the instinctive mortal jerk of fear that a vampire was going to bite him. But Angel didn't. He grazed Wes's neck with his teeth, then fastened his lips to the skin.

He held Wes, gripping him through suction alone, holding him in place as he made the pressure harder and harder until Wes was making high-pitched, gasping breaths and Angel *could* taste blood as he pulled it through Wes's flesh itself. They stayed, locked like that, until Wes was moaning outright and doing it loud enough that people in the lobby probably heard him.

Wes also probably didn't notice, but Angel made a mental note of it to remind him later.

"Mine," Angel repeated, when he finally broke the kiss. He lifted one hand, pressing his thumb into the bruise he'd just created. "Do you understand that?"

Wes was barely able to speak. "Y-yes. Yes, Angel."

He pushed his thumb in harder. "I *own* you."

"Yours," Wes replied.

"Open your eyes," Angel told him.

Wes looked up at him, eyes dark with lust. "Yes, Angel."

"I want you to go upstairs," Angel said, "and look in a mirror. I want you to see the mark I just put on you."

"Yes, Angel," Wesley said. Angel had a feeling he could have told Wes to walk through the window and he would have gotten the same response.

"Then," Angel said. "I want you to change your clothes. Put on that dark brown shirt. The one with the V-neck."

He saw understanding dawn in Wesley's eyes. "The one - I - yes, Angel."

Angel trailed his fingers along Wes's neck in approval of the self-correction. "Yeah. The one with the *low* neckline. The one where when you wear it, every single person in this building is going to be able to see what I just did to you. Probably be able to guess exactly how it happened, too."

Wes didn't look away from him. "Yes, Angel."

"Think you'd like that?" Angel asked. "Everyone staring at you? Everyone knowing exactly what you are to me?"

Wes licked his lips, then nodded. "God, yes, Angel."

"Goes without saying that you better not dare jerk off today," Angel said. "Or get Spike to help you out with it. If you come before I touch you tonight I *will* know about it."

"I won't," Wesley promised.

"You have meetings today?" Angel asked. "Actual clients who will see you like this?"

Wes nodded. "Two. One in about five minutes. Charles will be joining me."

"I think you're going to be late for that," Angel told him. "I think you're going to go upstairs, look at that mark, calm yourself down as best you can without coming, and then show up at that meeting in the brown shirt at least ten minutes later than you are supposed to."

Wes frowned. "Yes, Angel. Whatever you desire. But may I ask why?"

"Because *they* are going to ask why," Angel said. "And I want you to tell them, Gunn included, that the reason why you were late was because I made you change your clothes. Tell them you weren't wearing something I approved of."

"God," Wes breathed. "Angel - "

"Problem?"

"I think it's going to take longer than ten minutes to calm myself," Wesley said. "Angel, you've no idea - "

Angel reached down and cupped Wes's cock. Wes surged into the touch, moving into it until Angel held him still. "I have *every* idea, Wesley. I know exactly how hard it's going to make you to have to confess that you're not even allowed to dress yourself anymore. You're mine. You'd be rock-hard if I made you strip down and wear nothing but a leash in front of the entire office. Don't think for a second I don't know it."

"Please?" Wesley said. "Am I allowed to say please?"

"Say it all you like," Angel said. "But everything you do is up to me. I own you. There isn't a single thing about you I don't control. Now go upstairs, do as you're told, and I wouldn't make the mistake of assuming I won't be watching you on the security monitors just so I can see how hot and embarrassed you get. Got it?"

"Yes, Angel," Wesley said. He looked up at him from underneath his lashes. "Angel, may I please suck your cock later? Before tonight?"

Angel brushed his thumb over Wes's lips. "Be a good boy, give me a good show in this meeting, and I'll let you do it right after."

"Thank you," Wes breathed.

"Mine," Angel reminded him. He let Wes go so he could go upstairs.

Once the elevator doors were shut, he paged Spike.

"Everything okay?" Spike asked, appearing in the doorway.

"I took care of it," Angel told him.

Spike looked doubtful, but nodded. "All right. Good."

"Exactly," Angel said, then got back to work.