Protocol, Part Twelve

[thebratqueen]

Previous parts can be found here.

PART TWELVE

Wesley was waiting for Angel by the time he got back to their apartment.

"A pleasure to see you again, my Lord," Wesley said.

Angel stopped in the doorway, took that in, then smiled. "You too. You know I'm still getting used to the fact that this place isn't mine anymore."

Wesley frowned. "I haven't taken anything from you."

"No, I meant that I'm sharing it," Angel said. "That it's not *just* mine anymore."

"Ah," Wesley said. "You could send me away. There's no requirement that we must share living quarters."

"Works in theory," Angel said. "Not as much in practice. Living quarters around here are kind of scarce. Besides, I don't mind. Wait - do *you* mind?"

"It's an honor to share your quarters, my Lord," Wesley said.

"Angel," Angel reminded him. "And that was the stock answer which means actually you hate this."

Wesley shook his head. "No - my - my *Angel*, I didn't intend it that way. I'm sorry."

Angel studied him carefully. "You sure?"

"Positive," Wesley said. Though in truth he was surprised by the answer.

"Okay," Angel said. He closed the door behind him. "So, wanna start over? Man, that's getting to be a habit for us."

Wesley grinned and held out his hand. "Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. It's nice to meet you."

"Shaddup," Angel replied. But he took Wesley's hand regardless. "Have a good day?"

"I daresay yes," Wesley said. "I met some friends of yours, started my lessons with Mr. Gunn, and then came back here to prepare for you."

"Prepare?" Angel asked. "That - uh - really? You know, we don't *have* to - I mean, not that I didn't *like* but you - the two of us - it's not a *requirement* that - "

"I made you tea, my Lord," Wesley said, deciding to put Angel out of his misery.

"Prepare *food* for me," Angel said, comprehension dawning across his face. "*Oh*. I thought you meant - "

"I didn't say it *excluded* other forms of preparation," Wesley pointed out, feeling oddly bold enough to tease.

"Right, that," Angel said. "Seriously. You don't have to worry about that all the time. We don't always have to… you know. We can go slow. Wait a while. Take it easy."

"My Lord?"

"Yeah?"

"Your argument would carry much more weight if you gave me my hand back."

Angel dropped it guiltily. "Sorry."

"I don't mind," Wesley said. He gestured towards the dining area. "Tea?"

"Tea would be good," Angel agreed. "Alcohol even better."

"I could get you a drink if you'd like," Wesley said. "Wine? Stronger?"

"No, no," Angel said, sitting down at the head of the table. "Tea's good for now. We're talking real tea, right? Complete with little sandwiches?"

"Yes," Wesley said. He brought a tray out and placed it in front of Angel. "I took the liberty of working with the kitchen to prepare them."

"Is this a rules thing?" Angel asked. "You making me tea?"

"It is my job to ensure that you are made comfortable when you retire for the day," Wesley said. "That goal may entail many things, but I thought tea might amuse you for a start."

"Then consider me amused," Angel said. He then looked up with a smile. "How am I doing? I'm trying to respect your ways here."

"You're doing fine, my Lord," Wesley told him. "Though perhaps it might reassure you to remember that *as* my Lord it's impossible for you to do anything wrong."

Angel sat back, dissatisfaction shaping his face. "That's a rule I don't like."

"It's still true, I'm afraid," Wesley said. He brought over two teapots. He used one for one cup, then another for the second. He handed the first to Angel and then placed the other by his own seat. "But I did mean it honestly when I said you were doing fine."

"Wes," Angel said, reaching for his cup. "We need to talk about this. I don't like that you feel as though you can't - Wait, is this blood?"

Wesley sat down, folding a napkin across his lap. "Yes, my Lord. From the kitchen. They said it was a blend you liked."

Angel took in the situation before him. "You made me tea. With blood."

"There's no tea in the blood," Wesley said. "I'm sorry, should I have combined them?"

"No, it's just - " Angel held the cup up as though he'd never seen it before. "Blood. In little tiny teacups. Never had that before."

"It's a proper tea setting," Wesley said. "I thought - well, you *are* a vampire. I'm sorry, if you'd like actual tea it's in the other pot. I didn't mean to presume."

"You didn't," Angel said. He shook his head, marveling at it. "It's - it's great, Wes. Thank you."

Wesley felt uncertain. "I heated it. Was that the right thing to do?"

"I can drink it cold," Angel said, "but it's better warm. So yeah, that was the right thing to do."

Wesley tried to put his finger on what he'd done wrong. "I know it's a bit late for tea but I thought that since you were nocturnal… Would you like something else? I could get bigger glasses, or different food, or - "

"Wes," Angel said, reaching across the table for him. He put his hand over Wesley's, holding it again. "Relax. You did fine."

"If you don't like it you can say so," Wesley said. "You don't have to be kind to me."

*That* halted Angel's smile. His hand tightened over Wesley's. "Yeah, Wes. Yeah, I do."

Wesley shook his head, happy to leap upon this miscommunication. "No, there are no rules which say that you have to tolerate any unacceptable behavior on my part. If I've failed somehow - "

"You did *not* fail," Angel said. "Wes, what the Hell made you think you did?"

"I don't know," Wesley admitted.

"You didn't," Angel told him. "In fact you've pretty much exceeded all of my expectations today."

Wesley didn't know what to do with such praise. "Thank you, my Lord."

Angel's hand moved up, his fingers caressing Wesley's bare wrist. "Really. You did."

It took Wesley a moment to realize what Angel was talking about. "I - greetings of such nature are part of my domain, my Lord. I am to act as your representative and present a good face - "

"Which you *did*," Angel said. "And if it's part of your job anyway believe me I'm happy to let you have it. That kind of thing involves a lot of small talk. You can guess how well I do."

A smile touched Wesley's lips. "I'm happy to do it for you, my Lord."

"And in the meanwhile," Angel said, "I gotta get you a new watch. Want to borrow one of mine?"

"I will gladly accept any gift you give me, my Lord," Wesley said.

"Right, you can't want anything," Angel said. "Well you're taking one of mine then, okay?"

"That's very generous," Wesley said. "Thank you."

"It's a watch," Angel said. "I've got plenty. Okay, so tea with blood. Anything I should eat first?"

"The sandwiches, if you'd like," Wesley said.

Angel served himself and Wesley in turn. "Been a while since I've had proper tea."

Wesley absentmindedly rubbed his wrist, then immediately placed his hands in his lap once he realized he was doing it. "I wasn't certain if vampires ever would."

"We would, we do," Angel said. He bit into a cucumber sandwich, then made a face of apology. "Not so good with some of the subtler flavors though, sorry."

"That's not meant to be very flavorful," Wesley said.

"Oh," Angel said. He frowned at it. "So why serve it?"

"Why do the British do anything?" Wesley replied. "Tradition."

Angel grinned, then ate the rest of it. "Great job then. With the flavorless tradition."

"I did my best to remove all possible hint of spices," Wesley said. "I thought about giving you an empty plate but that seemed a bit too Zen for an authentic experience."

"I missed that," Angel said.

Wesley blinked. "What?"

"The humor," Angel said. "You hide it whenever you're being formal. Why?"

"You answered your own question, my Lord," Wesley said. He smoothed his napkin out, then tried to still the nervousness of his fingers. "Formality requires decorum. And no one wants a spouse who could double as the court jester."

"I like a spouse who's got wit," Angel said. "Think you can give me that?"

"Privately, if you'd like," Wesley said. He folded his hands together. He reminded himself to behave. One must have posture, and project grace, and at all times -

"Why are you so scared, Wes?"

Wesley flinched. "I'm sorry, my Lord."

"Is it me?" Angel asked. "It's okay to be honest. Is it the vampire thing, or my past?"

Wesley thought about it. He forced himself to reply to the question, reminding himself that he'd been ordered to be frank. "It is not entirely those things, my Lord."

"But some?" Angel asked.

"My inexperience with someone of your - your place in history is something of a detriment to me, yes, my Lord," Wesley tried. Then hastily added. "But it is not always an influence. I've found you are not quite what I was expecting."

"Guess we're even there," Angel said.

Wesley wanted to ask what Angel *had* been expecting, but the rules bound him to silence in such things.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Angel said. "I'm not that person anymore. I like you, and I want to take care of you."

Wesley's hands fisted in his lap. Council training bid him to be quiet, but he reminded himself that his duty was first and foremost to his husband. "I like you too," he said, deciding that the Council's feelings about vampires could be damned.

Angel smiled at that, as though surprised the conversation had taken that turn. "Thanks."

Wesley felt a mixture of relief and guilt at the admission. "I have a great deal of training, my Lord," Wesley said. "It's not meant to be contradictory, but our arrangement has the dubious advantage of being ground breaking. If at times I hesitate, or seem uncertain, it's because I don't know which rule to place above another."

"Sounds like being Catholic," Angel said.

Wesley unsuccessfully tried to smother a grin. "Perhaps."

Angel moved over, sitting in the chair beside him. "Can I help?"

"I'm not sure," Wesley said.

"You already know I'd have you throw the rules out the window if you could," Angel said.

Wesley refrained from pointing out that there were no windows that he could use even if he wanted to. "That can't be done, my Lord."

"I know, but I had to try," Angel said. He folded his arms on the table, leaning forward. "Could you maybe tell me which ones were giving you trouble? I could always order one over the other, right? My vote overrules the Council's?"

Wesley nodded. "It does. My husband has the last say in everything I do."

"Okay then," Angel said. "There's our solution. Hit me. What's the biggest problem?"

"I like you."

"Isn't liking somebody supposed to be part of a marriage?" Angel asked.

"Ideally yes," Wesley said. "But I have been raised to like my husband or wife as part of my duty to support them in the fight *against* vampires. No one ever told me what I am supposed to do when my husband *is* a vampire. Even if he has a soul."

"I don't want to order you to like me, Wes," Angel said. "Having control over your feelings makes me very uncomfortable. If you want to hate me, it's okay."

"You're the most unusual vampire I have ever met," Wesley said. Then admitted, "Not that I've encountered many."

"I know what I've done," Angel said. "I know what I've earned. If my past makes you uncomfortable around me, then I've earned that."

"I don't *want* to hate you," Wesley said. "I feel that I should."

"But you don't."

Wesley shook his head.

"I could steal your lunch money," Angel said. "Would that help?"

"Not really," Wesley said, "since anything that's mine is yours if you want it."

Angel thought about it. "Could I order you to get rid of that should? Could I order you to feel what you feel, regardless of what the Council told you that you should feel about me?"

Wesley nodded. "Yes. Yes, that's entirely within your domain."

"Then consider it done," Angel said. "I want *your* emotions, Wesley. Not the Council's. Good, bad, whatever you feel. I'm okay with it. As long as it's you."

Wesley let out a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding. "Thank you."

"So you like me, huh?" Angel asked. The corner of his mouth turned up in a grin.

"Yes," Wesley said. And it felt good to say it now. As though all the obstacles to his job had been taken away from him. "You're kind, and handsome, and noble - "

"We're placing handsome second on the list?"

"I didn't say it was in order of importance," Wesley countered.

"Not so bad yourself," Angel said. His hand slid across the tablecloth.

Made bold by the conversation, Wesley brought his own hand up to touch his. "Thank you, my Lord."

Angel's thumb caressed the flesh of Wesley's palm. "Last night was nice."

Angel's touch was making him go quiet again. "Thank you."

Apparently Wesley wasn't the only one who found it hard to find words in this situation. Angel opened and closed his mouth a few times before he was able to speak. When he did his voice was soft, and gentle. "Wesley, I don't want to take advantage of you."

Wesley frowned. "My Lord?"

"I know what you've been trained to do," Angel said. "I know that's why some people get one of you guys in the first place. But I don't want to take advantage of that. Or even come off like I'm taking advantage of that. I married you for political reasons, yeah. And we had to do the wedding night, yeah. But that doesn't mean that we can't take our time now. Get to know each other. I want to treat you like a person, okay? Not some kind of sex toy."

Wesley took that in. "Did you not like being with me?"

Angel shook his head at once. "No. No. Wes, it was great. Really great."

"Then why don't you want to do it again?" Wesley asked.

"I don't want to take advantage of you," Angel repeated.

Wesley tried to process what on earth the words could mean. He finally decided that Angel was confused. "My Lord, do you take advantage of your doctor when you seek medical advice?"

"Don't exactly need to go for annual checkups," Angel said. "But I guess not, no."

"Do you take advantage of the kitchen when you order food?" Wesley asked.

"Well no, but - "

"My Lord," Wesley said, meeting his eyes. "My *job* is to serve you. My *privilege* is to serve you. If you have needs then I am here to answer them."

"Yeah, but - " Angel faltered. "You're a person and - "

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" Wesley asked, feeling snappish. "Honestly, do I come off as mentally deficient? I *know* that I am a person, my Lord. I am also a person who is your spouse. This is my *job*. I would never presume to rabbit on to you about how patently unfair it is for you to act as the Champion when you *are* the Champion. So why does everyone I encounter seem Hell bent on insisting that I am a person as though that somehow contradicts what I am here to do?"

"Well, I - "

"I am your *spouse*, my Lord," Wesley said. "I am here to serve every need that you may have and yes, that includes those of the bedroom. I do not know what sort of vampiric chivalry insists upon denying sex with the very being you would care to be having sex with, but I can assure you that if you are doing it out of some kind of desire to be respectful to me this is not the way to go about it. Spouses are meant to be desirable to their husbands. They are meant to satisfy their husbands. If you have needs and you deliberately turn away from me as a source with which to fulfill them then you have actually insulted me."

"I have?" Angel asked.

Wesley nodded. "You are saying that I am not good at my job."

"Didn't mean to put it that way," Angel said. "I just thought with you being scared of me and all… I was trying to be respectful."

"I appreciate the sentiment, my Lord," Wesley said. "But if you wish to show me respect then respect my job for what it is. Don't say to me that I am a person as though no human being would ever do this. I am *honored* to have this job. I have trained my entire life for it. It isn't respectful to tell me that doing so makes me less than anyone else who helps or serves you."

"I never thought that," Angel said. "Not once. I'm sorry, Wes. I do appreciate what you're bringing to the table. Honestly."

"Even the sex?"

"I feel *guilty* about the sex."

"Well that's very Catholic of you."

Angel laughed. Wesley found that it was a very attractive look for him.

Wesley moved his hand, putting it under the table so that he could run it along Angel's thigh. "You can have me, my Lord, if you wish."

Angel's eyes were dark, and serious. "That turns me on probably more than it should."

Wesley didn't know what aspect of it Angel was referring to, but fortunately that didn't matter. "There is no possible way to want me that is wrong, my Lord. Whatever you wish to do with me is right."

What Angel wished to do, apparently, was haul Wesley onto his lap. He pushed his chair back, then pulled Wesley over, their mouths finding each other within an instant of their bodies coming near.

Wesley braced his hand on Angel's shoulder. Angel's tongue was in his mouth and it was making his heart race. Wesley squirmed, wanting more of it, wanting to *do* more. He abstractly wished the Council could have warned him about this. Years spent teaching him that his pleasure in life was to serve his husband meant *nothing* to the reality of what that pleasure actually felt like. His body was thrumming, his cock was already hard, and all he could think was: More. More. Please, let me do more.

Angel's hands were strong and firm on his body. He tore into Wesley's shirt impatiently, scattering buttons across the table and the carpet. His fingers found nipples, pinching them until Wesley jumped and gasped. Wesley lost his place, his mind swirling at the sensations. His lips bumped into Angel's as he forgot if they were kissing or biting or - Oh, God. That felt - that felt -

"Pretty boy," Angel murmured, and Wesley pressed closer to him as though the words had been a touch. Angel's fingers danced lower, undoing the front of Wesley's pants. Then he drew out his cock and the cool skin (undead, some voice in the back of his mind reminded him, but Wesley was now so far past caring) slid along the searing hot flesh of his erection and Wesley moaned, coloring with shame as he did but he couldn't *help* himself. He couldn't *not* feel pleasure. Not with his husband bringing it out in him with every word and deed. And surely it had to be all right. Surely it had to be allowed. Angel had ordered him. Angel had *told* him to feel what he felt. It *had* to be okay, if his husband had commanded this of him.

"I want you," Angel said, though his hand belied the urgency of his words. He caressed Wesley's cock slowly, so slowly, the circle of his hand barely touching him until Wesley felt dizzy and though he might pass out at any moment.

"Yours," Wesley replied, because that was a response ingrained in him since childhood. "Yours, my Lord."

And perhaps it was that which inspired deeper lust in his husband, because Angel surged up, kissing him again, and his mouth and teeth were so hard that Wesley almost felt something that might have been fangs. One hand caught Wesley's wrist in a powerful grip. The other left Wesley's cock - causing Wesley to make a soft sound at the absence of it - then found Wesley's hand on Angel's shoulder, guiding it down, down, down to Wesley's hard and aching flesh and moving it until -

Wesley snatched his hand away. He was not so lost as to have forgotten *that*. No, he was too well trained. He would not disappoint his husband by failing a test that was so simple even a child knew the answer to it.

"What - " Angel frowned. He tried to guide Wesley's hand and again Wesley moved it away. "Wes, are you allowed to touch yourself?"

Wesley didn't even have to think to be able to respond to this question. Hearing it from Angel's lips was no different than hearing it from any of his teachers. "No, my Lord," Wesley said, for that was the answer expected of him.

"Not at all?" Angel asked.

"No, my Lord," Wesley said. He opened his eyes, worriedly. Angel didn't sound pleased. Had he gotten the wording wrong? It was the most basic question and response, how had he bungled it?

"But why - " Angel started to ask, then stopped himself. He seemed angry now, and Wesley found himself trembling in fear. "No. Don't answer that. I know why."

"My Lord," Wesley said, trying to keep his voice soft and respectful. "Did I do wrong? Did I fail you again?"

"No," Angel said at once. His hands went around Wesley's body, holding him close. "You didn't. You didn't do anything wrong at all, you got that?"

Wesley wasn't certain, but he nodded. "Yes, my Lord."

Angel was quiet. His face expressionless. His hands were still and he stared out at nothing in particular. Again Wesley began to quake, feeling that something horrible was coming.

"My Lord?" he whispered, trying to brace himself.

His ears rang as the tabletop slammed into his back. Angel was on top of him, tearing the clothes off of his body. His hand found Wesley's cock again and he stroked it hard and fast, the friction burning his skin until Wesley's back arched, and his legs drew up, and he pulled clumps of the tablecloth into his hands as his entire body sparked and his eyes saw white and he couldn't *think* he couldn't *breathe* because it felt so - he didn't know anything could feel so - everything was just - God - just -

"I *want* you to feel that," Angel told him, and Wesley knew in his heart that this was *Angel's* voice. The voice of a king. "I *order* you to feel that, do you hear me, Wesley? If you want to obey me then you will feel pleasure at my touch. Got it?"

"Yes," Wesley said, or hoped he said. His body and voice were so far away and everything was that hand, that rough and perfect hand, touching him and making his body fill with pleasure and light and - Wesley gasped, sucking in breath as the words seeped through him. *Ordered* to do this. *Commanded* to do this. He *had* to. He *had* to feel this pleasure and his husband had told him to and there was no choice, no choice at all, he had to obey and - and - and -

He came, stripes of fluid hitting his chest and Angel's as the orgasm tore through his body, making him shudder so hard that cups toppled over, and silverware showered to the floor.

"You are mine," Angel said. His brown eyes swam into view as the darkness faded from Wesley's vision. "Do you understand that? Mine. Not the Council's. Obey the rules if you have to but in the end you do what I say. You follow *my* commands. Not them, not anyone else's. Just me."

Wesley smiled, looking up at him in utter happiness. "Yes, my Lord," he whispered.

"Good boy," Angel said, then carried him back into bed.