Pet, Part Thirty-One

[thebratqueen]

Previous parts can be found here.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

"You are a right prick, do you know that?"

Angel didn't even bother looking in Spike's direction. He kept his gaze down, watching the party-goers on the floor below. Specifically one party-goer, and how he handled himself. "Everybody wore a tux. Quit complaining."

"I'm past that," Spike said. He leaned against the metal railing, his arms folded. "Actually, I'm not past that and I still hate you. But you're a prick *besides* that."

Wes was handling himself like a dancer. He moved through the crowd with no apparent effort, but Angel could see the way he managed to do as he'd been told. Nobody made contact. Not even by accident. It was enough to make Angel want to bend the metal railing into a bow. Anything to help deal with the frustration of waiting to have Wes right then and there.

Spike snapped his fingers in front of Angel's eyes. "Anyone at home? At all? I know your skull is usually empty - "

"What's your point, Spike?" Angel asked.

"*Him*," Spike said. He gave a bob of his head in Wes's direction. "You're being a right prick to him."

That got Angel's attention. "I gave him gifts. I marked him. I made him happy."

"He doesn't have enough to worry about tonight?" Spike asked. "Your big party, making *you* look good, *his* big plan - that's not *enough* for him to worry about?"

"It's plenty for him to worry about," Angel agreed. "Too *much* for him to worry about."

"So why put this on top of it?" Spike asked. "He's got all that on his plate, and you add the little domination games to the mix?"

"Best way to handle it," Angel said.

"How?" Spike asked.

Angel lifted a glass of champagne off of a passing tray, then saluted Spike with it before going downstairs. "Because now he's only got *one* thing to worry about: me."

Spike shook his head, and stayed where he was.

***

"It's a great party, isn't it?" Fred asked.

Wesley stepped to the side. Fred had the habit of leaning in to speak, and of apparently thinking that the both of them shared a smaller personal space than two strangers might. In the past that had proven to be awkward due to his unfortunate choice of possible romantic partner. Now it was awkward for entirely new reasons. "It does seem to be going well."

"I've never been to a party in an art museum before," Fred said.

"It seemed an ideal location, given the need for Angel's comfort," Wesley said. Also the museum provided a great deal of security, with the bonus that if any of their clients attempted to stage a coup that it wouldn't harm the Wolfram & Hart offices, but Wesley didn't feel a need to get into that now.

"Do you think he's enjoying it?" Fred asked.

Wesley pondered the question. "I think he hasn't killed anyone, so that's very likely a good sign."

"Plus nobody's tried to kill him," Fred said. She held up her hands, crossing the fingers in a hopeful manner. "At least, not yet."

"I nearly came close to it earlier," Wesley said.

Fred waved it off, causing Wesley to step another inch to the side to avoid her hand making contact with him. "He was nervous. Besides, we all know that he didn't mean any of what he said."

"Actually, I'm reasonably certain that he *did* mean to tell Harmony he would stake her if she kept using up his office supplies," Wesley said.

"We know he didn't mean *most* of what he said," Fred amended, happy to smooth things over.

It was that positive nature of hers, one that Wesley even still admired, which made the next exchange both easier than it could have been, and more humiliating than Wesley suspected that Angel had intended.

"I'm told you're someone I should meet," a demon - Wesley instantly recognized the species as Riggis - said. He thrust his scaley hand out in front of him. "Keyton Michaels."

Wesley took a half-step back, motioning towards Fred. "This is Winifred Burkle, head of Wolfram & Hart's Science department."

"A pleasure to meet you," Fred said, pumping the demon's hand with enthusiasm. Then she hesitated. "Unless you're trying to kill any of us. Because if you are I should tell you I don't fight fair when it comes to protecting my friends. In fact the weapons I've developed this week *alone* would leave you crying - "

"Fred," Wesley quietly cleared his throat.

"Right," she said. She dropped the demon's hand and held her own up innocently. "Truce for the party."

"You understand that Miss Burkle speaks for all of us and our desire to ensure that Angel gets the respect that he deserves," Wesley said, hoping to vector Fred's digression into something more useful for the goal of the night.

"And you are?" the demon asked.

There it was. Wesley kept his hands firmly at his sides as he answered, "Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. I am Angel's."

"*Date*," Fred hastily added, when the pause dragged out long enough for them all to realize that no other words were forthcoming. "Wesley is Angel's date. For tonight. Also in general. They're together." Fred's fingers sketched a ballet in the air, the pantomime of which apparently conveyed some meaning of romantic entanglement. Then she looked to Wesley with bright-eyed optimism. "Right, Wes?"

Wesley was grateful for the collar of his shirt which prevented anyone from seeing the flush that was forming on the back of his neck. He'd anticipated the awkwardness of these introductions to strangers. Being made to do it in front of Fred was an entirely new level of humiliation. "In general we are together because I am Angel's."

Fred's eyebrows creased with confusion, but she gamely kept going. "Wesley's also in charge of Research, and Intelligence, and - "

"And I just don't know what I would do without him," Angel's voice cut in. He appeared by Wesley's side, placing his left hand on the small of Wesley's back in an obviously possessive manner. He then gave Wesley a wink. "Isn't that right, Wes?"

Wesley wanted to sag against him with relief. But he kept his posture, instead replying, "Yes, Angel."

Angel gave him a look of approval before turning his attention towards the demon. "Fred? Who's your friend?"

The demon held his hand out. "Keyton Michaels, it's an honor to - "

"Yeah, I don't care," Angel said.

The demon drew himself up. "You should know that I serve his Lordship - "

"*Still* don't care," Angel said. "Serve means flunky and I don't do flunky. Tell your boss that he can talk with my people and set up an appointment, or we just won't talk at all."

The demon glared. "This kind of insult - "

"We're done now," Angel said. He nodded to indicate one of the guards who was standing nearby. "Now you can get out of my sight, or I'll have my boy Bobby kick you out. Up to you. Either way I'll find it funny."

The demon opened and closed his mouth a few times, then stormed off.

"Please tell me I pissed off the right person," Angel said, keeping his voice low enough that only Wesley or Fred could hear him.

Wesley smiled at him. "You did wonderfully. I would have interrupted you otherwise."

"It's so hard to keep track of who we're supposed to like," Fred said. She wrinkled her nose in the direction of the crowd. "Actually, I don't like any of them."

Angel saluted her with his champagne glass. "I agree with that instinct. So, what did I interrupt?"

Fred grinned. "Wesley couldn't stop talking about you."

Angel quirked his eyebrows. Anyone who didn't know better would have believed he was surprised by the information. "Is that a fact?"

Wesley shifted in place. He felt a need to protest. "Angel - "

"Now, now," Angel said. His demeanor was calm, but the hand on Wesley's back was firmer, and more commanding. "I want to hear all about this."

Fred was oblivious to the undertones. "He'll tell anyone who'll listen all about how you two are together. In fact, if I hadn't stopped him - oh! They've got those breadsticks with the meat."

"Having fun?" Angel asked, sotto voice, as Fred distracted herself with a passing tray of food.

Wesley started to reply that he himself was so distracted that he was ready to claw Angel's clothes off, but remembered that the conversation was personal. "Yes, Angel."

Angel leaned in. Anyone watching would have thought he was pressing a kiss to Wesley's ear. Instead he murmured, "Good boy."

Wesley closed his eyes and felt his body temperature skyrocket.

"These are great, you should try them," Fred said. She held a plate out in Wesley's direction.

Wesley waved it off, avoiding contact. "No, thank you. I - I'm not hungry."

"Sure you are, Wes," Angel said. He deposited his glass on a table, then picked up one of the breadsticks himself. It was wrapped with procuitto, and covered with cheese. "Here. Try a bite."

Wesley stared at Angel. He quickly translated the expression and the command to mean that no hands were allowed. And given the nature of the food in question this meant not only consenting to being fed by hand, but also being forced to mimic an action with his mouth that he'd been doing just a few hours previously in the privacy of the car. Throwing Fred into the mix only added to the torment. She apparently had no idea of what was going on, but that only served to make the flush on his neck creep higher. It made the entire thing both more grossly public, and blessedly private at the same time.

"Wes?" Angel prompted, with a look in his eyes which suggested he knew damned well what all of this was doing to Wesley's heart and libido.

"Yes, Angel," Wesley replied. He leaned forward and took a bite, keeping his gaze right on Angel's face - which was what Angel usually asked of him, when Wesley was sucking his cock.

"So romantic," Fred said, watching the two of them. She seemed to be making her mind up about something. "I think it's nice that Angel dotes on you."

"Somebody should," Angel agreed. He brushed his thumb across Wesley's lower lip, clearing a stray crumb off of it. "In fact, I think somebody should spoil him."

Fred was quite happy in what she apparently saw to be the role of Wesley's defender. "You *should*. He works hard. He deserves some fun. Not that he ever does that for *himself*. After all, everybody knows that if it was up to Wesley he'd just keep slaving away night after night - "

"He certainly would," Angel said, his mouth curving in a mischievous grin.

Again Wesley felt the need for a protest for the sake of courtesy. "Angel - "

Angel's hand went lower, cupping his backside. From the angle of their position, Fred couldn't see, but oh how it made Wesley's pulse start to skitter. "No use denying it, Wes. You're a workaholic. In fact - " Angel pretended to think about this, then appealed to Fred. "I think somebody should *force* him to have fun, don't you?"

Fred folded her arms, trying to look stern. "They should. He's done way too much. He needs to relax."

"I agree," Angel said. His hand was massaging Wesley's backside now. Fingers teased along the seam of his pants. Wesley balled his hands into fists, trying to control himself. Angel, of course, looked as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening. "You know, now that you mention it, I think I'm going to do that right now. You don't mind if I steal Wes away from you, do you, Fred?"

"Go on," Fred said, waving them off. She smiled. "You two lovebirds enjoy yourselves."

"Thanks," Angel said, giving her his best smile in return. He then steered Wesley even further away from the crowd. That done, he growled in Wesley's ear. "Go over to the east wing. Section 1C. Wait for me there. Remember the rules still apply."

Wesley wanted to protest that Angel could quite happily take him *now* if he so desired, but he forced his mind to clear. He immediately saw his first problem. "The doors are closed. How can I get there if I'm not allowed to touch anything?"

"You're a smart guy," Angel said, giving him a final squeeze before letting go. "You figure it out. Oh - and don't talk to anybody either. I'm feeling *real* possessive."

With that Angel vanished into the crowd.

Wesley swallowed, wishing that Angel had been kind enough to allow a few sips out of a cool wineglass before leaving him like this. But orders were orders and - dear *God* Angel was ordering him about in front of a roomful of people. He was ordering him about in front of his *friends*. He was doing it with no qualms, or hesitations, and that alone made Wesley realize that at some point he owed some kind of vow or sacrifice or gift to whatever being had been kind enough to bestow this favor in Wesley's direction.

Then Wesley wondered if the being in question was Spike. If so, he had no complaints about it whatsoever, and resolved to personally thank the vampire at the next available chance he had to throw him up against a wall.

Or have Spike throw *him* up against a wall. Either way seemed an excellent method of handling it.

But in the meanwhile there was the current order, which had Wesley staring at a set of glass double-doors and wishing Spike *was* there, as he might have been both savvy and kind enough to open them for him. He wasn't, however, and Wesley had just been forbidden from asking for help. He thought about waiting for someone to pass through, but no one seemed to be coming in this direction, and he didn't want to find out if Angel's command had a time limit on it.

Nothing to do but puzzle it out, then. Wesley looked around, taking stock of his situation.

There! It wasn't the most direct method, but the doors between the party area and the hallway to the kitchens swung back and forth with regularity. Wesley made his way towards them as quickly as possible, slipping through before the swinging doors could slam shut and make contact with him.

There was the silence of a long hall, then. Wesley walked down it, his eyes scanning the walls for the "You are here" maps required by fire codes. Waiters and waitresses passed, giving him curious looks and occasionally asking if he needed any help. Wesley shook his head mutely and kept going.

It was a curious thing to go about in this manner. Wesley reflected on it as he navigated his way through halls and stairwells, carefully zigzagging through the museum so that he could find a path which was, though not direct, one that allowed him to obey Angel's orders. Though he was alone, he felt as though Angel was right there with him, his hand still on the small of his back, his lips still whispering orders into his ears. It made Wesley feel both safe, and utterly wanton. Such simple requests, and yet his body was alive, and aching with desire. He knew without a doubt that he would have *crawled* the distance if Angel had asked it of him. Then he remembered Angel's promise about crawling, and leashes, and wondered when exactly it was that he'd abandoned any reservation about begging for what had previously been shameful, hidden desires.

The sound of laughter alerted him to the presence of other party-goers. Wesley hid himself behind a statue, knowing that it would be easier to obey the command for silence if he avoided those who would undoubtedly want to talk to him. He glanced after them as they passed, seeing Harmony and some vampire she had apparently picked up for a date of her own. Wesley made a mental note to tease Spike about it later.

Finally he emerged in section 1C. The doors were already open, which made Wesley suspect that his arrival had been planned. He stood in the doorway, feeling that if Angel had anticipated that much, there was surely only more on the horizon. Perhaps it was a test. Or even an act of courtesy. A subtle cue that going further meant agreeing to do more, and submitting to things that hadn't previously been asked of him.

Wesley stepped through. He didn't regret the decision in the slightest.

The area was empty, and low-lit. Signs explained that it was the section for rotating displays, and that the current artwork was there thanks to the generous donation of Wolfram & Hart. Wondering if perhaps this had been another puzzle for him, Wesley walked around the various displays and partitions and studied it all, trying to find a pattern to it. The collection was eclectic, and the only common thread that he could find was that there *was* no common thread. It was a mix of paintings, artifacts, and sculptures, ranging from the very ancient to the most modern.

"Like it?" Angel's voice asked.

Wesley turned, his heart jumping. He hadn't even realized the vampire was standing behind him. "Angel."

"Did you think I was going to leave you alone?" Angel asked.

"You followed me?" Wesley asked.

Angel's expression gave nothing away. "In a manner of speaking." He then nodded towards the Monet Wesley had been studying. "Do you like it?"

Curiosity got the better of him. "Was this collection your idea?"

Angel's eyes swiveled towards him, and Wesley was keenly reminded that he was *not* to think, only to do what Angel wanted. "Do," Angel asked, his voice as calm as his demeanor, "you like the painting?"

Wesley's breath caught. He forced himself to exhale, then to answer. "Yes, Angel," he said. Then hastily added. "I mean it's very nice."

"I like Monet," Angel said. He folded his arms, studying the painting. "I love what he does with the light."

Perhaps it was all of Fred's talk about romance, but Wesley couldn't help but view this information with all the kindness that his heart held for this vampire. "That must have been very miraculous for you, after living in the dark for so many years."

Angel's eyes flickered, but he gave no other outward sign of reacting to this. "Walk with me," he said instead. Then gave Wesley a stern look. "Don't let me touch you."

"That goes against every instinct in my body, you realize," Wesley said.

Angel smiled at that. "Do as you're told."

"Yes, Angel," Wesley said.

They fell into step together, a good foot of space between them. They walked from one piece to the next, watching the evolution of art through the centuries. "What do you like?" Angel asked.

Wesley suddenly suspected where this was going. "Angel, these belong in museums."

"I didn't ask you that," Angel said. "I asked what you liked."

"Whatever I tell you, you'll give to me," Wesley said. "That's where this is going, is it not?"

Angel stopped, getting into Wesley's personal space. It took a moment before Wesley remembered the command to make sure that Angel didn't touch him. "Don't disobey. Do as I tell you."

"I - yes, Angel," Wesley said. He wanted to protest this, but the intensity of Angel's gaze silenced him. And, shamefully, part of him *liked* this.

"Again," Angel said.

"Yes, Angel," Wesley repeated, knowing that Angel had meant to say the words without any faltering or hesitation.

"Good boy," Angel said. "Now what do you like?"

Wesley looked around, then pointed to a glass case, inside of which was a knife. "That."

Angel walked over, circling the display so he could get a look at it. "Nice."

"It's Ottoman," Wesley explained. "And the jadework on the handle is exquisite."

Angel met his eyes over the top of the case. "It might be worthy of you."

Wesley shook his head. "I wasn't asking for a gift."

"I wasn't asking if you were asking," Angel said. "And if you keep this up I'm going to mute you. Don't make me do that, Wes. I like your voice."

Wesley's heart constricted at the idea that he was disobeying the vampire. He immediately said, "Yes, Angel."

"Good boy," Angel stepped away from the display, then gestured around him. "What else did you notice?"

Wesley tried to follow the gesture, then guess what Angel was asking. "That there is something here from all the genres which the museum covers?"

"True," Angel said. "What else?"

Wesley looked around. He saw paintings, sculptures, glass cases with shelving and smaller pieces inside, signs which explained everything, soft benches for patrons to sit on, and, over in the corner and only visible if one moved to the side of one of the partitions that had been erected to hang paintings on, "The doors are still open."

"Also true," Angel said. He walked around Wesley now, as though *he* were the one on display. "What else?"

Wesley cast about, trying to determine what could possibly be out of the ordinary. "I - I'm sorry, Angel, I don't know."

Angel stood behind him. He reached over Wesley's right shoulder to point, the only thing making contact with him was the sound of his voice, which was warm in Wesley's ear. "There. And there. And there."

Wesley looked. Then felt his heart stop. "Cameras."

"Big party," Angel said. "Lot of security."

"Oh god," Wesley breathed. He wanted to lean back, to feel Angel's hands anchoring him as his mind swam at the possibilities of this.

"I watched you," Angel said. "I saw how you got here. I watched you be a good little boy, who obeyed my orders to the hilt."

"Happily," Wesley said, now thrilled at the extremes that he'd gone to in order to make sure he hadn't violated even the spirit of the command, let alone the letter of it. Then, inspired, he added, "I would have crawled if you'd asked me."

"Tease," Angel said. He then moved to whisper into Wesley's other ear. "I wasn't alone, you know."

Wesley's heart was thundering. "Angel…"

"That room isn't empty *now*," Angel said. "There's eyes watching you, even as we speak. Every angle recording how you react to me."

"Please," Wesley said, his voice soft.

"Please what?" Angel asked.

Wesley shook his head at that. "I - I honestly don't know. Whatever you want. Whatever you're *doing* to me. *Please*."

Angel gave a chuckle at that. "What am I doing to you, Wesley?"

"Driving me out of my mind," Wesley told him, and had no doubt that this was true.

"Like you don't do the same?" Angel asked. "Like you weren't teasing my cock all night with that show you put on for me? So pretty and obedient, never letting anyone touch you, telling everybody you were mine, even in front of *Fred* - "

"Angel, that was so cruel," Wesley said, his breath coming in hitches now. "Doing that in front of the guests is one thing, but in front of our *friends* - "

"You liked it," Angel said.

Wesley nodded. He couldn't deny it. "I did."

"You'd do it again if I told you to," Angel said. "If I said right now that you had to sing for Lorne in front of all those guests and everybody we know and confess to everybody how much you want me - "

"*Angel*," Wesley said, the word meant to be some form of token protest, but instead coming out in a desperate moan. Deciding he liked the sound of it, he did it again. "Angel…"

"Cock tease," Angel growled. He moved his hand up, towards Wesley's neck. "New command. Don't let me touch your skin."

"Yes, Angel," Wesley said. The aura of Angel's hand was enough to make his body quiver. Since all he could do in return was speak, he added, "Anything you want, Angel."

"I want you," Angel said. He tugged at Wesley's tie, making the bow fall apart and collapse. "You looked nice in this."

"I was happy to wear it for you," Wesley said.

"I like when you wear my things," Angel said. He reached around with his other hand, picking up the other side of the tie. "I like knowing a part of me is always touching you."

Wesley's eyes became half-lidded. "So do I."

"I like knowing -" Angel said, his voice soft in Wesley's ear. Then without warning he snapped both ends of the tie around to the back of Wesley's neck, moving the length of the tie directly over Wesley's Adam's apple, so that the piece of cloth encircled him like a collar " - that I can *claim* you whenever I like."

Wesley's chest was heaving. He felt the tightness around his neck and knew for certain it would only take a word or command from Angel to make him lose control. "Angel - "

"Relax," Angel told him. He transferred hold of the tie into one hand, reaching around with his left to deftly open up Wesley's shirt, at all times making contact with nothing except cloth and buttons. "Don't want to come yet. You're not done putting on a show."

Wesley's eyes were drawn up to the cameras. He tried to imagine who was on the other side of them. Spike? A stranger? Perhaps worse, a *friend*? "Am I to put on an act then? For them?"

Angel shook his head. His hand was at the top of Wesley's pants now, and it was all Wesley could do not to get onto tiptoes and thrust into his palm. "You're my prized possession. You're on display for *me*."

"Yes, Angel," Wesley said, and felt the last vestiges of any form of argument fading away at that. He was Angel's. If anyone wanted to watch that be true, so be it. All that mattered was the vampire who claimed him.

"Good boy," Angel said. He tugged at the impromptu collar. Then, apparently having no reservation about stroking Wesley's desire to have no dignity, said, "Heel."

"Yes, Angel," Wesley said. He let himself be drawn backwards, giving in to the trust game with each and every step. He felt dizzy, but knew Angel would not let him fall.

His calves bumped into something solid. "Sit," Angel told him.

Angel very possibly hadn't intended it that way, but Wesley couldn't help but hear the command in the same dog-like tone that "Heel" had been said in. "Yes, Angel," he said, sitting down on the leather-covered bench at once. He kept his legs parted and tried to stay still. His cock was dying and the less inadvertent friction he gave it the better. His mind imagined a world where he was constantly given these one-word commands, and kept on his knees, and very possibly left where all he could do was lick at Angel's hand to ask for his attention, and every worry and stress was taken from him as he was pampered and protected as a true pet would be and - "God, Angel, you've no idea what you're doing to me."

"I have *every* idea," Angel said, and the tone was so ancient and powerful that Wesley didn't doubt the truth of the comment in the slightest. He was behind Wesley, doing something with the tie that made it ride up and down on Wesley's neck. "Don't ever think I don't know you. I know you better than you know yourself."

Wesley wanted to say that in some instances this was not true, but the urge to simply give up all control was stronger. "Yes, Angel."

"Good boy," Angel said. He stopped his movement, stepping away from Wesley. The tie remained in place, and Wesley realized that Angel had simply put the bow back into it, thus collaring him while freeing up Angel's hands. Of course this was now a collar with a bow on the back of Wesley's neck, and as masculine as a bow tie was on most normal occasions, Wesley couldn't help but flush at the idea that he was now marked with something which hinted at feminine. "Problem, Wes?"

Wesley shook his head. "None whatsoever, Angel."

Angel stood in front of him, admiring the view. "Should leave you like this. Invite all the guests in here. Tell them you're part of the show."

"If you wish it," Wesley said. He clung to the edge of the bench. He conjugated Latin in his head, trying to pull himself back from the razor's-edge of climax.

"On the other hand, you're not showing enough," Angel said. He reached down, pulling Wesley's shirt and coat out of the way, until they pooled around his elbows. This both bared his chest, and kept his arms trapped at his sides. Then Angel reached lower still, and undid the front of Wesley's pants. With silent encouragement, he moved Wesley just enough to tug the pants and boxers down around Wesley's hips. Wesley's hard cock was freed into the air, and his bare backside rested against the leather of the seat. "Good. Now sit back."

Wesley did so, moving back on the bench until he was resting on his elbows, and his bare skin was stretched out and exposed to Angel's gaze. His nipple ring glinted in the light. "Angel," Wesley whispered. "*Please*."

Angel leaned over him, putting his hands down on the bench on both sides of Wesley's body, though still not making contact. His eyes were dark, and his expression was nearing feral. "I want to draw you. I want pictures of you to put up on my walls."

Wesley bared his throat. He kept his lips parted. He sat up as much as he dared, getting close to Angel without disobeying the command not to touch. "Please. Anything. I swear to you, I'll do anything."

"Wanted you for so long," Angel said. His voice was distant, as though he wasn't simply talking about that night. "Wanted you for so damn long, Wes."

"You could have had me from the start," Wesley told him, and it was completely and utterly true. "From the very first moment, I would have said yes to you."

Angel stared into Wesley's eyes. Into Wesley's *soul*, it felt like. "Mine," he said. Then he reached up, and with centuries-skilled fingers, flicked at the ring in Wesley's nipple without touching the skin.

Wesley shouted, his head falling back. "Please. Angel, *please*."

"All mine," Angel said. The ring was moving back and forth now, sliding from left to right, from one end of the curved barbell to the other and *nothing* else was touching him "You get that, Wes?"

"Please," Wesley begged. He was sobbing. He was very possibly crying. He didn't care. He'd never felt anything like this in his life and if coming from this meant *dying* he still wouldn't have said no to it. "Please. Angel. God. *Please*."

"Say yes to me," Angel said, still toying with the jewelry. "I want to hear it."

Wesley forced his head up, and his eyes open. He locked his gaze with the vampire's. "*Yes*. Angel, always, *always*, yes."

He was rewarded with lips, finally. Angel's mouth on his, kissing him so roughly that Wesley cried out with pain, but at the same time whimpered and begged for more of it. With every stolen breath he whispered, "Please, Angel, fuck me, *please*," until Angel was tearing at his clothes, ripping the pants away, and manhandling him onto his hands and knees.

"Where's the lube?" Angel said. He was pressed up against Wesley's back, one hand undoing his own pants, the other holding Wesley down. "I know you always carry it. Where is it?"

"Inside coat pocket," Wesley told him. He thrust back into Angel's erection, feeling the hardness through the cloth of Angel's trousers. "*Please*."

Angel patted Wesley down, then found the packet in question. He tore it open with his teeth, prepping Wesley so brusquely that Wesley had to dig his fingernails into the bench and control his breathing to keep from going over the edge. Then Angel was inside of him, filling him, slamming his cock into Wesley's body again and again and again. Wesley trembled, his body drenched with sweat. He struggled to control himself, wanting it to last, and even begged "Please, don't stop, don't ever stop, Angel, *please*."

Angel for his part kept at him, holding him, growling into his ear now with what was very much *not* a human-like sound. He might have even gone into game face for all that Wesley knew. But it was strong, and possessive, and echoed through the room, punctuated by the creak of the bench, the gasping of Wesley's breath, the actual pounding of their bodies coming together and Wesley was reminded of what this was, and *where* they were, and how it was all so wonderfully horrible and forbidden except that it didn't *matter* because he was Angel's and all that ever mattered was what Angel wanted of him and it felt so *good* to obey.

"Please," Wesley begged, his face pressed down to the bench now, his hands balled into tight fists. "Please. Oh God. Angel, God, don't stop, please don't stop."

"Look at me," Angel told him.

Wesley twisted around enough to look over his shoulder. He met Angel's eyes. He started to say something, perhaps even "Yes, Angel." as Angel very likely wanted him to do, but found himself mute, and unable to do so. There was something happening there, some quiet and powerful thing passing between them, and in one of the rare moments of Wesley's life he found he had no words at all.

"I - " Angel spoke, then shook his head. He reached down, drawing Wesley up and shifting their position so that he could wrap an arm around Wesley's chest, and bring their mouths together as their hips continued their irresistible dance. "Wes, I - "

"Don't," Wesley told him. He nuzzled close, feeling the universe fall away in a cotton-filled cloud that surrounded the both of them. "Just take me. Please, Angel. I need you to take me."

Angel nodded, apparently more secure in that. He nudged Wesley's legs further apart, increasing his thrusts. One hand went low, pumping Wesley's cock. The other went high, toying with the ring in his nipple. "Pretty boy."

Wesley sucked in shallow, shuddering breaths. His head fell back onto Angel's shoulder. He was floating. He was flying. He was boneless, bodiless. All he was was feeling, and emotion, and the joy that Angel was creating. "Please. God. Angel. I - *please*."

"Always mine," Angel said. "You'll never be anything else."

"Thank you," Wesley said, the words a sigh. Then he felt the last of it. The trusts which felt too good, the tugging that was too strong, the twist at his nipple which sliced right through to the core of him until he was rocking, and writhing, and spasming, and saying "Yes, yes, yes, *yes* - " in quick staccato breaths that made him dizzy, and light-headed, and he was going to fall, and lose himself utterly, except it was Angel holding him safe and sound, and faster, harder, please, God, Angel, Angel, *Angel* - "*Yes!*"

The climax took them both, Wesley's jerking body driving Angel over the edge with a harsh sound, and a *snap* of his teeth as he nearly sank them into Wesley's neck, and they were both shaking, and trembling, and clinging to each other as though there was nothing else on earth to hold on to.

"I - " Angel said, after a great deal of time had passed in which neither of them had said anything, and instead Angel had simply cradled Wesley in his arms, and pressed soft kisses over his face. "Wes, I - I'm going to take you home."

Wesley knew that wasn't what Angel had originally intended to say, but he didn't protest it. Instead he ran light fingernails over Angel's neck, and nodded with blissful obedience. "Yes, Angel."

From what looked like out of nowhere, Angel produced a black, calf-length overcoat. Wesley wondered just how much Angel *had* pre-planned this, as Angel held the coat up for Wesley to put on. "Here. Don't want anybody inadvertently getting a view."

"Besides the cameramen?" Wesley asked, sliding his arms into place.

Angel settled the coat on Wesley's shoulders, then wrapped it around him. "That's different."

"Whatever you say, Angel," Wesley said, and meant it.

Angel stood up. He fixed his own clothes, then offered his hand for Wes to take. "Did you like tonight?"

Wesley threaded his fingers through Angel's, then let himself be led back to the parking garage. "I loved it," he said.

Angel looked taken aback by that, but nodded. "Good. I want you to be happy."

"I am," Wesley promised. He met Angel's eyes again. "You make me happy, Angel. Very much so."

"Good," Angel said. He pulled Wesley closer, wrapping his arm around Wesley's waist. "You make me happy too."

"I'm glad," Wesley said. Though he couldn't help but wonder if it would ever make Angel happier to find out that Wesley was in love with him.