Protocol, Part Thirty-One

[thebratqueen]

Previous parts can be found here.

PART THIRTY-ONE

It was intoxicating. That was the only possible way to describe it. Absolutely intoxicating to be this close to Angel again. To have his body right up against Wesley's own. To have their lips dancing together, and that thick, hard cock resting in the palm of his hand.

Wesley concentrated. This was a serious task. This was something he was trained for, beyond the usual sexual pleasures. The serving of the old and/or infirm was a specialized trait. All spouses were expected to learn it, but not everyone managed to succeed.

Wesley had taken all of his lessons very seriously. This one had been no different. Now he wanted to show Angel what he could do.

Perhaps it was living up to the vampire's opinion of him - not that Wesley allowed himself to truly believe that opinion. It was politeness. Kindness. (And it was best just to ignore the apparent contradiction of a vampire that was too kind to be truthful and cruel.) All the same, Wesley felt inspired by it. Surely he could *show* Angel that he would not be disappointed in him.

And, admittedly, it felt wonderful. That, too, was something unexpected. It was a longing wrapped up in the shameful ache he had felt night after night of Angel not being with him. He was touching Angel's body, but his own was burning with desire.

Still, the focus was Angel, and Wesley was happy to do it. He reacquainted himself with Angel's cock, watching with delight as his fingers elicited signs of pleasure. Angel's eyes closed, his face relaxed, his erection grew warmer and harder.

The temptation was to go faster, and to become rougher. But Wesley knew not to give in. Angel was still healing. That required a light touch at all times, and no greater demand of energy from Angel's body than was absolutely necessary. When done right, it could be as much a part of the recuperative process as any medicine.

For his part, Angel did not seem to need much encouragement. His hips moved. His hand kneaded the sheets. Drops of fluid leaked from the tip of his erection, and Wesley found himself salivating for it.

"My Lord," he finally said, "may I use my mouth?"

"That," Angel said, exhaling the word in a sigh, "is never a question."

Wesley smiled. He immediately moved down. Suction would have been too much, but breath and tongue were not. He began to blow and lick the shaft and balls, groaning as he relearned the smell and the taste. His own cock became harder. He moved his hips, making sure he gave himself no friction whatsoever. It was forbidden. He could do nothing but please Angel.

But what a relief it was to do so. He felt as though he'd been blind, or deaf, or lost a limb. His world had been *broken*, and now it was better. His husband was back. His owner. His keeper. All that mattered was doing right by him, and nothing else at all.

And there it was. The tight sounds, the tensing of muscles. The twitch and then - yes - orgasm, which Wesley lapped at, feeling greedy, but without losing his poise. There were ways to do this. There was proper form. Spouses could hunger for their husbands, but it was unacceptable to be an animal about it.

When done Wesley looked up. Angel's eyes remained closed, and his demeanor was like that of slumber. Not wanting to disturb him, Wesley crept back up carefully. He settled down next to Angel, finding a kind of pleasure of his own at unanswered ache in his cock.

But then Angel surprised him by moving. He shifted over, then mouthed his lips over Wesley's own. "Missed you."

Which of course couldn't possibly be true. What was there to miss? Wesley was who he was, and Angel had shown so little interest in Wesley's role as his servant. But Wesley moved closer all the same, wanting to believe it.

"I missed you too, my Lord," Wesley said. "So much. Every night I missed you."

Angel smiled at that. Their noses bumped, then rubbed together. "Really?"

Wesley nodded, solemnly. "Desperately. I - I longed for you. I waited for you. I - " he faltered, then whispered " - wanted you."

Angel turned, groaning as the action shot pain through his body. Wesley tried to stop him, but the vampire was both strong and determined. Then Angel's hand connected with Wesley's cock and Wesley forgot how to speak entirely.

"Huh," Angel said, his fingertips trailing along the shaft. "Guess you did."

"I did," Wesley said, his voice so quiet it could only have been audible to a vampire. "My Lord, I'm sorry, but I couldn't *not* want you."

"Did you touch yourself?" Angel asked.

Wesley shook his head at once. "No. Never."

Angel opened his eyes. "Not *once*?"

Wesley attributed this forgetfulness to the medicine in Angel's system. "My Lord, it is forbidden."

"But you were - I was gone for *months*," Angel said.

"I missed you very much," Wesley said, his voice no louder than it had been before.

"Jesus, Wes," Angel said. He seemed sad, somehow, and Wesley hated that he'd managed to disappoint him.

"I'm sorry, my Lord," Wesley said. It was the failsafe for any possible wrongdoing.

"No, Wesley - " Angel started to say, then stopped himself. He shook his head, then moved back to lie down. "Come here. I can't sit up that long."

Wesley did as he was told. "My Lord, I *am* sorry for anything that I - "

"You did *nothing* wrong, Wesley," Angel said. He pulled Wesley closer, rubbing their noses together again. "Nothing at all. Do you hear me?"

Wesley nodded, not sure he believed this either. "Yes, my Lord."

Angel's hand found his cock again, making the world shrink to the feeling of his calloused fingertips. "You went too long."

Breathing was becoming difficult. "P-protocol," Wesley managed.

"Too long," Angel said. "I don't want you to wait that long anymore."

He was so close. He was sweating, his body shaking, his cock so hard and so close and - "I can't. It's not allowed."

"I don't want you to wait," Angel said again. He moved closer, brushing their lips together. "Guess that means I can't leave you alone for that long."

"*Please*," Wesley gasped, then shuddered as climax overcame him.

***

"Missed you," Angel said again, either moments later or hours.

Wesley smiled, curling up next to him in the cocoon of their blankets. "Missed you too, my Lord."

"Go to sleep," Angel said. And it seemed a very wise and sensible idea.

***

It came on him suddenly. Lightening-quick. One moment sleeping, the next awake, his lungs tight, his heart pounding. Adrenaline screamed through his body. He couldn't breathe, and all around him was that fear, that *certainty* that this was death, he was going to die, it was going to *kill* him and -

"Hey," Angel murmured. He wrapped his arm around Wesley, holding him as tightly as he could. "Hey, it's okay. I'm here."

Wesley shook his head. It *wasn't* okay. It was *wrong* and *horrible* and - God, his heart. It hurt so much and his eyes were watering and he was *crying*, crying like a pathetic child, which of course was exactly what he was and he *deserved* to die, *deserved* to feel this way, to feel like -

Desperation gave Wesley strength enough to say one word:

"Angel."

"Come here," Angel said at once. He cradled Wesley against his body, wrapping his own around Wesley's so tight that he could have been in the womb. "I've got you. Nothing is going to hurt you. It's okay."

Wesley felt dizzy from hyperventilating. He couldn't stop himself, however. He was going to die and the terror would not leave him. He clung to Angel, knowing that this was worthy of punishment enough that he might wish for death once it was given to him, but he didn't care. He couldn't make it stop. The room was dark and he was going to be swallowed whole and he was going to die and be left there to choke and suffocate with no one to care for him or even notice that he was gone.

"Shhh," Angel said. He placed light kisses on Wesley's forehead. "You're my spouse. You did nothing wrong. I want you here with me."

"Angel," Wesley said, surprising himself with the ability to be verbal. He pressed himself as close to Angel's body as he could manage. He would have crawled *inside* of Angel's body if it was possible. "*Please*."

"It's okay," Angel said. He moved a hand up to stroke Wesley's hair. "I'm right here."

"I'm sorry," Wesley said, as soon as he realized he had control of his words. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't ever apologize for this," Angel told him, his voice so tender it was absolutely nothing like a rebuke. "You can't control it. It's not your fault."

Breathing slowly returned to normal, but Wesley didn't release his grip in the slightest. "I don't even know what brought it on."

"Do you normally?" Angel asked.

He'd been so kind that Wesley couldn't deny him the truth. "Yes."

Angel showed uncommon mercy in not pressing the matter. "Maybe they're getting worse?"

"I was *happy*," Wesley said. Then remembered himself. "My Lord."

"The times you think I would even come close to caring about that," Angel said. He pressed a kiss to the top of Wesley's head. "You don't have to use the title in bed. You don't have to use it when it's amazing you can even breathe."

"I must work harder to overcome my handicap, my Lord," Wesley said, the words a recitation.

"You're not handicapped," Angel said.

Wesley clamped his mouth shut. He wasn't allowed to protest or argue.

"Somebody told you that you were, didn't they?" Angel guessed.

"I'm not sure how else it would be classified, my Lord," Wesley said.

"As a sickness," Angel said.

"Yes, my Lord," Wesley agreed. "An affliction."

"That's not the same thing," Angel said.

Wesley tried to detangle himself. "My Lord, you are still hurt."

"I can hold you," Angel said.

"I would be remiss in my duties if I did not remind you that this would cause you damage," Wesley said.

"We'll compromise," Angel shifted position, resting back against the pillows, but pulling Wesley along with him. "There. Better?"

"If my Lord is comfortable," Wesley said. He rested his cheek against Angel's chest, caressing his fingertips over the muscles in Angel's side.

"I am," Angel said. He threaded his fingers through Wesley's. "Did you get scared while I was gone?"

"My Lord?" Wesley asked.

"Did you have panic attacks?" Angel asked.

The admission was shameful. It was a confession of weakness, and failure. But his husband had asked it of him, so he was forced to say, "Yes, my Lord."

Angel squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry."

"It is my fault, my Lord," Wesley said.

"It's no such thing," Angel said. "Wesley, whoever told you otherwise was lying. It's just an illness. It's like getting a cold, or the flu."

"Spouses are not allowed to become sick, my Lord," Wesley murmured.

Something flashed in Angel's eyes. Wesley braced for the blow, but all that Angel said was, "*You* are."

"I am not to burden you, my Lord," Wesley said.

"If you get sick and do not tell me," Angel said. "I *will* punish you. Is that understood?"

"Yes, my Lord," Wesley said. He forced himself not to break eye contact. The fact that he was so inferior that Angel would anticipate his failures and plan for them was no excuse for him to fail at his other requirements. "I'm sorry, my Lord."

Angel studied him for a long moment. "Whatever you're expecting isn't going to happen, Wes. I don't know what it is, but it's not. I won't let it."

Wesley didn't know what to say to that. He settled for, "Yes, my Lord."

Angel didn't seem satisfied.

"I'm sorry, my Lord," Wesley said, and finally allowed his eyes to drop.

Angel's thumb began to rub back and forth on the side of Wesley's hand. "I hate how hard this is on you. You try so hard to please me. Wes, you *do*. Everything you do makes me happy."

"You deserve better," Wesley said.

Angel moved his hand up to cup Wesley's chin, drawing him up so that they could make eye contact. "Do you honestly think there is anyone else that the Council could send who would be as understanding as you? Who would sit next to a monster like me and treat me like a person?"

"I - " Wesley opened and closed his mouth. Then frowned. There was no other answer that he could give. "No."

Angel smiled at him. The sight of it spread a warm feeling inside of Wesley's stomach. "Then maybe you can start to understand how special you are."

Now he was blushing. He had no idea how Angel managed to do that to him. "My Lord - "

Angel's smile was wider. "Oh no. You don't get to look like that and not kiss me."

The blush deepened. "My *Lord*."

"Kiss me, Wes," Angel said.

Wesley moved up, brushed his lips over Angel's, then sighed with happiness.

"My Lord, I was miserable without you," Wesley said.

Was that a trick of the light, or did Angel color too?

"Yeah," Angel said, drawing him closer. "So was I."

They kissed again, and kept kissing until sleep once again claimed them both.