Pet, Part Thirty

[thebratqueen]

Previous parts can be found here.

CHAPTER THIRTY

"I'm going to kill him," Wesley said.

Spike was unimpressed by this. "Take a number."

"Ah," Wesley said, sitting down on the conference table in Angel's office. "But there is a crucial difference. *I* actually have a complaint. *You*, on the other hand, are whining."

Spike gave him a look. "I'm not *whining*."

"You are too."

"This is a monkey suit!" Spike said.

"It's a tuxedo," Wesley said. "And we're all wearing them. Except for Fred and Harmony, of course."

"Lucky them," Spike said.

"You could wear a frock if you'd rather," Wesley said. He tilted his head, wondering what Spike might look like in a dress. Then realized this was imagery best left unthought of.

"I was not meant for tuxedos, pet," Spike said.

"I think you look smashing," Wesley said.

"I look a right *prat*," Spike said. He squirmed, readjusting the shoulders of his coat. "There's many things a body can't do, and mine can't wear this."

Wesley glanced over towards Angel's desk. Angel and the others were still busy in conversation. He took the opportunity to sneak his hand across the table and run it along the inside of Spike's thigh. "I think you look smashing."

Spike's eyes flickered. He seemed torn between continuing to pout, or allowing himself to be mollified. "That a fact?"

Wesley lowered his voice. "Quite fuckable."

"Still say I'd look better in something else," Spike said.

"Well I didn't say there wasn't some room for improvement."

Spike swatted him, but grinned. "Haven't lost your lip. That's good."

"I use my lips too much to dare misplace them," Wesley said.

"Now you're trying to distract me."

"That or make you quiet," Wesley said. "I'm amenable to either."

"Could use your mouth for that one, pet," Spike observed.

"I'm going to kill him," Wesley said, watching as Angel got into what was possibly his twentieth argument of the evening.

"Why?" Spike asked. "You look *good* in monkey suits."

"Thank you," Wesley said, absently, "and I'm going to kill him because he's currently behaving like a child."

Spike shrugged. "No different from most times."

"No, this is," Wesley said. "He's being more stubborn and immature than usual."

Spike mulled that over, watching Angel carefully. "Look, I never said this to you, but you can't blame him."

Wesley turned his attention back to Spike. "Why?"

"It's the big night, innit?" Spike asked. "The grand debut."

"He can't possibly be nervous," Wesley said. "All he has to do is to be stoic and act as though everyone there is beneath him. He could do it in his sleep. He could do it if he were properly *dead*."

"Maybe," Spike said. "But think about it. Think about what part of him does that better than anyone."

Wesley suddenly understood the problem. "Oh."

"Right," Spike said. "It's not the act that's making him nervous, pet. It's that it's not an act. He's spent years keeping that bastard locked up tighter than he keeps you. Now you're asking for him to put on a show."

"Do you think we should cancel the party?" Wesley asked.

Spike shook his head. "No. It's good that he's scared. He should be. But he should face it too. If he can't control it then he's no use to us. Might as well put him through his paces now."

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Wesley asked. "*Should* we help?"

Spike smiled, mysteriously. "Actually, he's already got plans."

"Wes?" Angel called over.

"His master's voice," Spike said. He pushed himself off the table. "Don't worry about it, pet. He's made of sterner stuff than this."

"I'm going to tell him you were saying nice things," Wesley warned.

"Like he'd ever believe you?" Spike asked. He gave Wesley a mock salute, then joined the others in the lobby, closing the doors behind him.

Wesley went to stand by Angel's desk. "Angel, about the party - "

Angel didn't look up from the papers he was signing. "This is pleasure."

Wesley immediately folded his hands behind his back.

Angel's eyes flickered up at him, noticing this. "Good boy."

"There is still business to discuss," Wesley said.

"In the limo," Angel said. "Right now this is about us. About you."

"Yes, Angel," Wesley said.

"There's going to be rules," Angel said. He exchanged one stack of papers for another, then worked his way through the new set. "This is a big night. You're not going to want to disappoint me."

Wesley frowned. For weeks they had discussed nothing except *Angel's* behavior for this evening. But then again, pleasure had never been part of those discussions. "Yes, Angel."

"Where'd you get the tie and cufflinks?" Angel asked, without apparent segue.

"Ralph Lauren," Wesley said. "And a jewelry shop not far from the flat I kept when I lived in England."

"That's nice," Angel said. He scribbled a note to someone, then stapled it to one of the documents. "Take them off and throw them out."

Wesley hesitated. The tie was meaningless, but the cufflinks were diamond. "Angel?"

Angel looked up. He didn't look pleased. "I'm sorry, are you trying to vote in this?"

"No, of course not," Wesley said at once. He immediately undid his tie as a show of good faith. "I only wanted to understand."

"Yeah, that's not actually up to you, Wes," Angel reminded him. "I tell you things, and you say - "

"Yes, Angel," Wesley recited, dutifully.

"Thinking and backtalk are not your domain," Angel said. "If I want that I'll go to Spike. Or at least the backtalk part. From *you* I want simple, and no complications."

"My apologies," Wesley said. He threw his tie into the small trash can by Angel's desk, then set to work on the cufflinks.

"Asking for *clarification* is okay," Angel said. "If you want to know how to obey *better* that's okay. But *challenging* me - "

Wesley met his eyes. "I wouldn't challenge you. I don't *want* to challenge you. I would never challenge my place in your life."

"Then throw out the cufflinks," Angel said.

Wesley cupped them in his hand, then held them over the basket. "As clarification, these are diamond."

"As clarification," Angel said, "I don't give a shit."

Wesley nodded, then released them. They thunked softly into the paper-filled can. Wesley squashed the urge to lecture Angel about the office's policies regarding recycling.

Angel stood up and came around to the front of his desk. He leaned against it, now only a foot away from Wesley. "New rule. You don't wear anything that I didn't give you. Either you borrow clothes of mine, or you wear what I buy for you, or you wear nothing at all. Got it?"

"Yes, Angel," Wesley said. He wanted to move closer. He settled for folding his hands behind his back.

A hint of a smile touched Angel's lips. He reached out, running his fingertips down Wesley's throat. "So pretty."

"Yours if you want it," Wesley reminded him. He bent his head, exposing his neck further. "I could wear your marks this evening."

"You could," Angel agreed. He reached into a pocket inside of his coat, and pulled out a velvet box. "You will."

Wesley took the box from him. Inside was a new tie, and a new pair of cufflinks. The tie was black. The cufflinks were not. "Platinum."

"Right," Angel said. He placed his hand on Wesley's chest, then flicked his thumb over the ring through Wesley's nipple. "I thought you could use a matched set."

Wesley closed his eyes. Sparks shot through his body whenever Angel touched that piece of jewelry. It never failed to make him want to crawl into Angel's lap and beg to be shown absolutely no mercy. "Angel -"

"Put your gifts on," Angel instructed.

"Yes, Angel," Wesley said. He did the cufflinks first. "May I ask to suck your cock now or must that also wait until the car?"

"Can ask," Angel said. "Not going to be told yes."

"I'm beginning to regret insisting that you not wrinkle your clothes," Wesley said.

"There's more rules," Angel told him. He motioned towards the box. "Put your tie on."

"Yes, Angel," Wesley said. He slid the tie into place, then worked on doing the bow.

"You are mine tonight," Angel said. "Well, you're mine *every* night. But I want to make it very clear that this party for you is not about business. You are there as my toy. You're going to act like it."

Wesley paused, his hands stalled in the middle of creating the loops. He experienced a moment of wishing that this idea displeased him. "Are you asking me to serve you in front of everyone?"

"Yep," Angel said. He nudged Wesley's hands out of the way, then fixed the bow for him. "You are going to be on tonight, Wes. Like a dog being put on display as part of the show."

"Will leashes be involved?" Wesley asked, still wishing that the prospect would horrify him.

"You want a leash, pretty boy?" Angel asked.

Wesley closed his eyes. He was losing all semblance of dignity and he found he didn't care. "Yes, Angel."

Angel leaned in, whispering into his ear. "Be good for me and I'll get you one."

"Please, Angel," Wesley said.

Angel's hand was on his hip now. It felt miles away from where Wesley wanted it to be. "I'll make you beg. I'll make you crawl."

Wesley shifted in place. "I might come if you keep talking to me like this."

"Yeah, that'd be a real shame," Angel said. "Open your eyes. I like it when you look at me."

Wesley obeyed. "Yes, Angel."

"The temptation to make you stay on your hands and knees all night is a strong one," Angel told him. "But since the party is *some* business I actually need you to talk. So rule one is you can talk to people, and you don't need my permission to say whatever it is you need to say in order to make sure this plan actually works."

"Yes, Angel," Wesley said.

"Rule two is that you're still my toy," Angel said. "And I don't want there to be any confusion about this. So if anybody asks you what you are, guess what you're going to tell them?"

Wesley's breath caught. This was more public than they'd ever been previously. He felt himself flush, but not all the warmth was centered on the back of his neck. "Angel - "

"You are going to tell them that you belong to me," Angel said. "That is your title. You will not *ever* introduce yourself as any of your roles here at Wolfram & Hart. You will introduce yourself as my property."

"I - not that I dispute this," Wesley said, "but as clarification how will I be able to make deals if they don't know what power I wield with the company?"

"They'll know," Angel said. "That's for me to worry about, not you. 'My name is Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, I am Angel's'. Say that for me."

"My name is Wesley Wyndam-Pryce," Wesley said, his heart thudding in his chest. "I am Angel's."

"Got a nice sound to it, huh?" Angel asked.

"Belonging to you always has," Wesley told him.

Angel moved his hand down from Wesley's hip, and skirted over the erection that was threatening to ruin the fine press of Wesley's trousers. "Want me?"

"So badly I could scream," Wesley said.

Angel used his free hand to make a tsking gesture. "Try again. Want me?"

Wesley corrected himself. "Yes, Angel."

Angel rewarded him with a light squeeze of his cock. "Good boy."

Wesley fought to keep still. He tightened his hands into fists behind his back. "Again I ask if I may service you in the car."

"Tempting," Angel admitted. He ghosted fingers along Wesley's erection. "I know how frustrated you get when you do that. Makes you all horny, and your eyes go dark, and you stay all hot and aching until I finally let you come."

Wesley's eyelids fell to half-closed. "I'm not really seeing a downside…"

"Kiss me," Angel told him.

"Yes, Angel," Wesley breathed. He closed the distance between them, his mouth meeting Angel's hungrily. He tried to pour all of his desire and frustration into every aspect of the touch.

Angel responded in kind, his hand teasing Wesley's cock, his other moving to Wesley's chest, flicking over the hidden ring once, twice, three times, until Wesley was humming, his fingernails digging into his palms, his cock hard and already wet at the tip as he begged with lips and tongue for Angel to yes, please, *take* him already.

Angel's hands kept moving, making him hard, driving him wild, taking him mercilessly, relentlessly right to the point of yes, please, yes, *please*, God, Angel, oh -

And then they stopped.

"Rule three," Angel said, releasing Wesley so that only the aura of their newly shared bodyheat caressed him. "Nobody touches you tonight. *You* do not touch you tonight. You belong to me. I am the only person who has the right to get anywhere near you."

Wesley's chest was heaving. He tried to control himself, and regain his thoughts. "I - I don't understand. Who else would want to have me?"

"Not have you," Angel said. "*Touch* you. In *any* way. That means pats on the arm. That means handshakes. That means accidentally bumping into you in the elevator. That means handing you a drink from the bar. *Nothing* touches your body tonight, Wesley. *Nothing*. Not any one, not anything. You are to get nothing for yourself, you are to *take* nothing for yourself. Unless it comes from me and my hands, it does *not* make contact with you, is that understood?"

The forced helplessness that Angel was suggesting was absolutely intoxicating, but Wesley still found a flaw in it. "Angel, it will be perceived as an insult for me not to shake hands with any of the guests."

Angel shook his head. "You belong to me. You are there as my property. *Nobody* gets to touch you."

"And this will be made clear to them?" Wesley asked.

"I think you're going to have to be very good with your verbal skills," Angel said.

Wesley tried to imagine an entire evening of being made to confess to everyone just how much control Angel had over him. It did absolutely nothing to soothe the ache in his body. "May I ask you something?"

"If this is about the limo again I'm really going to lose my willpower to say no," Angel said.

"Two questions, then," Wesley said.

Angel smirked. "Shoot."

"Does this help you?" Wesley asked. "Will having this much power over me tonight make the entire evening easier for you to bear?"

"I'm guessing that's one question in two parts," Angel said. "And it doesn't hurt, no."

"I see," Wesley said.

"What's the second question?" Angel asked.

Wesley stepped closer, until their mouths were centimeters apart. "If that's the case, then wouldn't it make you feel that much better knowing that every time I spoke to someone tonight I did it while having the taste of your come on my tongue?"

Angel's eyes darkened. "You know, you're not wrong."

Wesley licked his lips, knowing that the sight of that pleased Angel. "I live to serve you."

"Now you're *definitely* getting on your knees in the car," Angel said.

Wesley smiled. "Oh damn."