Petverse Charity fic: W/S, W/A
Mar. 19th, 2005 09:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thebratqueenWoohoo! Got another charity fic done. This one for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bonehed who requested "Pet-verse A/W/S fic with your special brand of sweet&nasty&sappy sauce."
I hope this fits the bill =)
Previous parts of Pet can be found here.
Other charity fics can be found here
***
Wesley had fun with Spike.
This was an unexpected thing. Certainly not something he would have anticipated based upon his limited knowledge of the vampire prior to their meeting. To begin with, there were facts like "vampire". On top of that was Spike's reputation, although there it was more his reputation for annoying Angel than his reputation as a killer which had made the greater impression. All vampires were killers. Even those who killed Slayers weren't as unique as all that.
But of course thoughts such as those belonged to a much younger version of Wesley. One who hadn't met a rather infamous vampire, and been stupid enough to fall in love with him. After becoming smitten with Angel, the concept of any dangers or wrongness in having feelings for Spike - pardon the pun - paled in comparison.
All that was left, then, was Spike's relationship with Angel. This had turned out to be not as antagonistic as one would have thought. This left Wesley lacking the knee-jerk protectiveness of Angel that the thought of Spike usually inspired. Without that, it became easy to both learn and appreciate the younger vampire's charms and, having done so, to find himself feeling more than physically attracted to him.
Wesley pondered the truth of his history and his emotions from time to time. From vampire hunter to one who cared for Angel to one who had a relationship, such as it was, with Angel to one who cared for and had a relationship, such as it was, with Spike. He mulled it in the odd hours when he had nothing to do - rare times, granted - and came away with these conclusions:
1) That he never would have anticipated having anything in common with Buffy
2) That he certainly never would have anticipated having *this* in common with Buffy
3) That he would never, under any circumstances, feel compelled to actually mention any of this to the Slayer, even under penalty of death
4) That, in his own inadvertent yet provable way, Angel was apparently the gateway drug to Spike
5) That Wesley would never, under any circumstances, feel compelled to actually mention that to Angel or to Spike, even under penalty of death
It was the sheer, stubborn pride which both vampires possessed which made Wesley know that the topic of comparing one to the other completely verboten. Angel was many things that Wesley adored, but he was also a testosterone-crazed alpha male who would sulk and pout for hours, if not days, at the mere suggestion that he could be compared to anyone who he felt was lower on the food chain than himself. And Spike, for all his bravado, could not completely hide the fact that he clearly thought of himself as being in Angel's shadow, and was deeply wounded by any confirmation of his belief that he could only earn true attention and affection by being with those who, for whatever reason, couldn't be with Angel himself.
Which is why Wesley felt it was an absolute shame that Spike didn't seem to understand that Wesley had *fun* with him.
Not that Angel wasn't fun. Oh no. Wesley did not lack for enjoyment any time he was with Angel, be it friendly chatter about their favorite television shows or hot, hard, desperate fucking that gave Wesley what were undoubtedly the best orgasms of his life. But Angel was not fun in the way that Spike was fun, and it wasn't until Spike settled into the role that Wesley realized that he'd unconsciously missed having someone to fill it.
Take pub crawling. Angel was miserable with it. He enjoyed a good drink, but squirmed uncomfortably at the idea of spending a night with darts, pints, and heated debates about football (*proper* football) games. Angel being taken to a pub was like unto a dog being dragged into the groomer's. He'd do it, but he'd look at you with sad, dark eyes the entire time and quietly beg to be taken home.
Spike, however, loved a good pub crawl. He'd often make the suggestion to go and, once there, do everything in his power to try to hustle Wesley out of his cash. Wesley, of course, would do the same in return. Not that either of them lacked for money, but it was fun to win and to make the other lose from time to time.
Spike also *enjoyed* fun. He liked it, and actively sought it out. Spike leapt upon opportunities for merriment with a savage glee that, Wesley realized, must have been not unlike the glee he'd once shown for killing. Still, he threw himself right into the middle of things and wasn't satisfied until he was exhausted, something was broken, or his attention was diverted by even better opportunities.
Angel, for his part, tended to have fun thrust upon him. There were things that he enjoyed, but he tended to do so quietly, and without fanfare. Which made the rare moments when he couldn't contain his delight all the more valuable, but they were still rare. Fun with Angel was a project. Fun with Spike was a lifestyle.
Thinking upon it, Wesley realized that of the two Spike was actually the one most likely to have been chosen by him as suitable boyfriend material, had he been given a choice in the matter. They had a great deal in common. They shared similar backgrounds. They liked the same movies, and could share a grudging appreciation for the other's taste in music.
When Wesley needed a night of relaxation he went to Spike. Together they could drink, or race their motorbikes through the dark streets of LA, or curl up on the couch, legs intertwined, and watch two-second spurts of TV programming as one of them danced his thumb over the remote, cycling rapidly through the channels, more interested in the flickering lights than anything that might be on.
Or they could simply enjoy each other. If Wesley craved the basic building blocks, the very foundation of touch and affection that underscored any physical and romantic relationship, he could go to Spike. He could, without saying a word, shut the vampire up - and Spike was invariably talking, as chattering seemed to be his preferred state of being - with a kiss and know that he would be kissed back, and kissed by someone who cared for him.
They could wrap their arms around one another, spend time snogging just like teenagers, or cut right to the chase of fumbled away clothing, hard cocks, skilled hands, and mind-clearing orgasms. When they came - when Angel allowed Wesley to come while he wasn't around - it was always with a smile on their faces, and very often with gasps of irrepressible laughter.
Wesley had fun with Spike, and he rather liked him for it.
Actually he loved Spike for it, but he knew better than to bother the vampire with such a domestic claim. Spike shook off tender words like a cat flicking water off of its paws. But actions were always welcome, and Wesley did his best to not be shy about doing them.
***
Wesley felt *safe* with Angel. And, in an odd way considering that they didn't use these words either, also adored.
This was something Wesley knew that the others wouldn't understand. Particularly Gunn, who continued to harbor his belief that the relationship was at best borderline unhealthy and at worst right over the border and directly into mentally and physically damaging. Phrases like co-dependant and abusive hung in the air between them, usually on the days when Angel was more curt with everyone than usual or, more typically, when Wesley himself was in no mood to coddle fools and be held back by idiots. That was when Gunn pulled out his stone-cold lawyer look and they would stare at one another waiting to see who would blink.
Wesley never blinked.
He was devoted to Angel. Achingly, passionately in love with him with a depth of feeling that Wesley hadn't ever thought humanly possible. Spike was an excellent boyfriend, true, but he was the lover Wesley would have chosen for himself. The one who looked good on paper. A computer match - again if one ignored the vampire bit - made in heaven. Much like Fred, had twists of fate provided a path for his fondness for her to ever become a relationship in reality.
But that was mind influencing heart. Angel... Angel was his *soul*.
Here, too, Wesley had to secretly admit an understanding with Buffy. Angel was not simply someone Wesley was in a relationship with. Angel was large, Angel was *epic*. Angel was the kind of love that filled your entire body and made you realize that there were lengths, breadths, heights, and depths to that emotion that you had been staggeringly ignorant of.
Ideal on paper? No, probably not. A good friend, certainly. Not a perfect one, but then again neither was Wesley - and oh was that a bitter truth that was truly inescapable. But as a boyfriend Wesley would have probably set his sights elsewhere, even if someone like Spike hadn't presented himself as an option.
Which was not to say that Wesley wouldn't have willingly chosen to have *sex* with Angel. The man was ungodly attractive. Wesley felt reasonably certain even men who believed themselves to be *straight* would have cheerfully gotten into bed with him if Angel had asked.
Love, however, was something different. And it had been many years ago that Wesley had realized, for better or for worse, that he was deeply in love with Angel, even if, had he been asked, he never would have thought that he would love someone of Angel's type.
That was not the core of their relationship, however. Their relationship was a dance around such concepts as love and, for that matter, relationship. In its place was a partnership, as solid and strong as Angel himself, and a promise.
It was the promise that Gunn did not understand. He only saw the end effects of it. Things which added together to provide circumstantial evidence to prove the reasonable doubt he already had in his head. What Gunn didn't realize was that he was working the wrong case.
If Wesley had known the content of Angel's conversation with Gunn the night Angel had confronted him, he would have agreed with Angel's statements whole-heartedly. Angel *could* hurt him in more ways than the mind could count, but he *didn't*. And, more to the point, Wesley *did* need, want, desire, and yearn for the kind of devoted, protective, day in and day out concern that Angel was currently showing him.
When Wesley wanted to have fun he went to Spike. When he wanted to feel pampered and secure, he went to Angel.
Not that Spike didn't care for him or take care of him. And Spike certainly protected him, as that was quite literally part of his job description. But there was a kind of bone-deep bliss that only Angel could provide. A sensation of home, of *belonging* that only came when the massively powerful vampire stood beside him and claimed him as his own - his family, his partner, his lover, his *pet*.
And it was only to Angel that Wesley could give up his tightly held doubts and insecurities. Around anyone else Wesley jealously hoarded them, having lived too long a life with second-guessing to feel brave enough to try living without it. Oh he could deal with it, true. But only by working too quickly for the worry to catch up to him in time. Quiet brooding over a decision he'd made weeks ago was just that: brooding. It did not interfere with the new decision in front of him and which would, in turn, plague him in the weeks to come.
He'd known this fear since he was a child. He could work with it, work through it, dash ahead of it, but not *lose* it.
Not unless he was in Angel's arms.
Because it was Angel, with his rock-solid body and even stronger dedication to caring for his own with the deadly devotion of a lioness watching over her cubs, who could reach inside of Wesley, take the fear out and make it, however temporarily, go away.
Or to make it, however impossibly, his friend.
Wesley had known that he'd liked kink, but he'd had no idea how *much* he liked it until Angel showed him the joy that could be had from all forms of trembling. Oh sure, he and Lilah had played. Hell, for that matter even he and Virginia had toyed with handcuffs. But Angel raised domination and submission into an art form. He created games and scenarios that left Wesley aching, and breathless.
And the beauty of it was that Angel loved it just as much as Wesley did.
It was flattering, in its way. It made Wesley feel rather egotistically like Angel's muse. David to Angel's Michelangelo. Certainly it could feel that way physically as Angel spent hours upon hours lavishing attention on Wesley's body. His hands massaging him first into boneless relaxation, then playing upon his cock and thighs and chest and neck and mouth and - ah, yes, god - pierced and unpierced nipples. Working him like a toy, or an instrument, until everything was Angel and pleasure and the rapture of orgasm.
Or there were the tasks during the day. Little things to check Wesley, stopping him like a dog being tugged by a verbal leash, and remind him that at all times he was Angel's property. He was claimed. He was owned. He was cared for, because Angel had promised that he would take care of him.
And perhaps that seemed to others like too much. Like a relationship that went too far, and took things away from him.
But Wesley knew the truth. Which was that Angel spent more time caring for Wesley's happiness than he did on anything else. And that, when Wesley needed him, all he ever had to do is ask.
When Wesley called home, he would always follow it by going to Angel. He wouldn't explain why - and it was a mark of Angel's good friendship that he knew better than to go after the details - but he would appear in Angel's office door and say, without preamble, "Please?"
And Angel would, no matter what he was doing, stop right in the middle of it, tell Harmony to cancel all his other appointments for the day, and then take Wesley upstairs and touch him and kiss him and fuck him until everything else in the world had faded away.
***
Spike was fun. Angel was security. And Wesley couldn't imagine how he'd ended up so fortunate as to be able to have them both.
bonehed who requested "Pet-verse A/W/S fic with your special brand of sweet&nasty&sappy sauce."I hope this fits the bill =)
Previous parts of Pet can be found here.
Other charity fics can be found here
***
Wesley had fun with Spike.
This was an unexpected thing. Certainly not something he would have anticipated based upon his limited knowledge of the vampire prior to their meeting. To begin with, there were facts like "vampire". On top of that was Spike's reputation, although there it was more his reputation for annoying Angel than his reputation as a killer which had made the greater impression. All vampires were killers. Even those who killed Slayers weren't as unique as all that.
But of course thoughts such as those belonged to a much younger version of Wesley. One who hadn't met a rather infamous vampire, and been stupid enough to fall in love with him. After becoming smitten with Angel, the concept of any dangers or wrongness in having feelings for Spike - pardon the pun - paled in comparison.
All that was left, then, was Spike's relationship with Angel. This had turned out to be not as antagonistic as one would have thought. This left Wesley lacking the knee-jerk protectiveness of Angel that the thought of Spike usually inspired. Without that, it became easy to both learn and appreciate the younger vampire's charms and, having done so, to find himself feeling more than physically attracted to him.
Wesley pondered the truth of his history and his emotions from time to time. From vampire hunter to one who cared for Angel to one who had a relationship, such as it was, with Angel to one who cared for and had a relationship, such as it was, with Spike. He mulled it in the odd hours when he had nothing to do - rare times, granted - and came away with these conclusions:
1) That he never would have anticipated having anything in common with Buffy
2) That he certainly never would have anticipated having *this* in common with Buffy
3) That he would never, under any circumstances, feel compelled to actually mention any of this to the Slayer, even under penalty of death
4) That, in his own inadvertent yet provable way, Angel was apparently the gateway drug to Spike
5) That Wesley would never, under any circumstances, feel compelled to actually mention that to Angel or to Spike, even under penalty of death
It was the sheer, stubborn pride which both vampires possessed which made Wesley know that the topic of comparing one to the other completely verboten. Angel was many things that Wesley adored, but he was also a testosterone-crazed alpha male who would sulk and pout for hours, if not days, at the mere suggestion that he could be compared to anyone who he felt was lower on the food chain than himself. And Spike, for all his bravado, could not completely hide the fact that he clearly thought of himself as being in Angel's shadow, and was deeply wounded by any confirmation of his belief that he could only earn true attention and affection by being with those who, for whatever reason, couldn't be with Angel himself.
Which is why Wesley felt it was an absolute shame that Spike didn't seem to understand that Wesley had *fun* with him.
Not that Angel wasn't fun. Oh no. Wesley did not lack for enjoyment any time he was with Angel, be it friendly chatter about their favorite television shows or hot, hard, desperate fucking that gave Wesley what were undoubtedly the best orgasms of his life. But Angel was not fun in the way that Spike was fun, and it wasn't until Spike settled into the role that Wesley realized that he'd unconsciously missed having someone to fill it.
Take pub crawling. Angel was miserable with it. He enjoyed a good drink, but squirmed uncomfortably at the idea of spending a night with darts, pints, and heated debates about football (*proper* football) games. Angel being taken to a pub was like unto a dog being dragged into the groomer's. He'd do it, but he'd look at you with sad, dark eyes the entire time and quietly beg to be taken home.
Spike, however, loved a good pub crawl. He'd often make the suggestion to go and, once there, do everything in his power to try to hustle Wesley out of his cash. Wesley, of course, would do the same in return. Not that either of them lacked for money, but it was fun to win and to make the other lose from time to time.
Spike also *enjoyed* fun. He liked it, and actively sought it out. Spike leapt upon opportunities for merriment with a savage glee that, Wesley realized, must have been not unlike the glee he'd once shown for killing. Still, he threw himself right into the middle of things and wasn't satisfied until he was exhausted, something was broken, or his attention was diverted by even better opportunities.
Angel, for his part, tended to have fun thrust upon him. There were things that he enjoyed, but he tended to do so quietly, and without fanfare. Which made the rare moments when he couldn't contain his delight all the more valuable, but they were still rare. Fun with Angel was a project. Fun with Spike was a lifestyle.
Thinking upon it, Wesley realized that of the two Spike was actually the one most likely to have been chosen by him as suitable boyfriend material, had he been given a choice in the matter. They had a great deal in common. They shared similar backgrounds. They liked the same movies, and could share a grudging appreciation for the other's taste in music.
When Wesley needed a night of relaxation he went to Spike. Together they could drink, or race their motorbikes through the dark streets of LA, or curl up on the couch, legs intertwined, and watch two-second spurts of TV programming as one of them danced his thumb over the remote, cycling rapidly through the channels, more interested in the flickering lights than anything that might be on.
Or they could simply enjoy each other. If Wesley craved the basic building blocks, the very foundation of touch and affection that underscored any physical and romantic relationship, he could go to Spike. He could, without saying a word, shut the vampire up - and Spike was invariably talking, as chattering seemed to be his preferred state of being - with a kiss and know that he would be kissed back, and kissed by someone who cared for him.
They could wrap their arms around one another, spend time snogging just like teenagers, or cut right to the chase of fumbled away clothing, hard cocks, skilled hands, and mind-clearing orgasms. When they came - when Angel allowed Wesley to come while he wasn't around - it was always with a smile on their faces, and very often with gasps of irrepressible laughter.
Wesley had fun with Spike, and he rather liked him for it.
Actually he loved Spike for it, but he knew better than to bother the vampire with such a domestic claim. Spike shook off tender words like a cat flicking water off of its paws. But actions were always welcome, and Wesley did his best to not be shy about doing them.
***
Wesley felt *safe* with Angel. And, in an odd way considering that they didn't use these words either, also adored.
This was something Wesley knew that the others wouldn't understand. Particularly Gunn, who continued to harbor his belief that the relationship was at best borderline unhealthy and at worst right over the border and directly into mentally and physically damaging. Phrases like co-dependant and abusive hung in the air between them, usually on the days when Angel was more curt with everyone than usual or, more typically, when Wesley himself was in no mood to coddle fools and be held back by idiots. That was when Gunn pulled out his stone-cold lawyer look and they would stare at one another waiting to see who would blink.
Wesley never blinked.
He was devoted to Angel. Achingly, passionately in love with him with a depth of feeling that Wesley hadn't ever thought humanly possible. Spike was an excellent boyfriend, true, but he was the lover Wesley would have chosen for himself. The one who looked good on paper. A computer match - again if one ignored the vampire bit - made in heaven. Much like Fred, had twists of fate provided a path for his fondness for her to ever become a relationship in reality.
But that was mind influencing heart. Angel... Angel was his *soul*.
Here, too, Wesley had to secretly admit an understanding with Buffy. Angel was not simply someone Wesley was in a relationship with. Angel was large, Angel was *epic*. Angel was the kind of love that filled your entire body and made you realize that there were lengths, breadths, heights, and depths to that emotion that you had been staggeringly ignorant of.
Ideal on paper? No, probably not. A good friend, certainly. Not a perfect one, but then again neither was Wesley - and oh was that a bitter truth that was truly inescapable. But as a boyfriend Wesley would have probably set his sights elsewhere, even if someone like Spike hadn't presented himself as an option.
Which was not to say that Wesley wouldn't have willingly chosen to have *sex* with Angel. The man was ungodly attractive. Wesley felt reasonably certain even men who believed themselves to be *straight* would have cheerfully gotten into bed with him if Angel had asked.
Love, however, was something different. And it had been many years ago that Wesley had realized, for better or for worse, that he was deeply in love with Angel, even if, had he been asked, he never would have thought that he would love someone of Angel's type.
That was not the core of their relationship, however. Their relationship was a dance around such concepts as love and, for that matter, relationship. In its place was a partnership, as solid and strong as Angel himself, and a promise.
It was the promise that Gunn did not understand. He only saw the end effects of it. Things which added together to provide circumstantial evidence to prove the reasonable doubt he already had in his head. What Gunn didn't realize was that he was working the wrong case.
If Wesley had known the content of Angel's conversation with Gunn the night Angel had confronted him, he would have agreed with Angel's statements whole-heartedly. Angel *could* hurt him in more ways than the mind could count, but he *didn't*. And, more to the point, Wesley *did* need, want, desire, and yearn for the kind of devoted, protective, day in and day out concern that Angel was currently showing him.
When Wesley wanted to have fun he went to Spike. When he wanted to feel pampered and secure, he went to Angel.
Not that Spike didn't care for him or take care of him. And Spike certainly protected him, as that was quite literally part of his job description. But there was a kind of bone-deep bliss that only Angel could provide. A sensation of home, of *belonging* that only came when the massively powerful vampire stood beside him and claimed him as his own - his family, his partner, his lover, his *pet*.
And it was only to Angel that Wesley could give up his tightly held doubts and insecurities. Around anyone else Wesley jealously hoarded them, having lived too long a life with second-guessing to feel brave enough to try living without it. Oh he could deal with it, true. But only by working too quickly for the worry to catch up to him in time. Quiet brooding over a decision he'd made weeks ago was just that: brooding. It did not interfere with the new decision in front of him and which would, in turn, plague him in the weeks to come.
He'd known this fear since he was a child. He could work with it, work through it, dash ahead of it, but not *lose* it.
Not unless he was in Angel's arms.
Because it was Angel, with his rock-solid body and even stronger dedication to caring for his own with the deadly devotion of a lioness watching over her cubs, who could reach inside of Wesley, take the fear out and make it, however temporarily, go away.
Or to make it, however impossibly, his friend.
Wesley had known that he'd liked kink, but he'd had no idea how *much* he liked it until Angel showed him the joy that could be had from all forms of trembling. Oh sure, he and Lilah had played. Hell, for that matter even he and Virginia had toyed with handcuffs. But Angel raised domination and submission into an art form. He created games and scenarios that left Wesley aching, and breathless.
And the beauty of it was that Angel loved it just as much as Wesley did.
It was flattering, in its way. It made Wesley feel rather egotistically like Angel's muse. David to Angel's Michelangelo. Certainly it could feel that way physically as Angel spent hours upon hours lavishing attention on Wesley's body. His hands massaging him first into boneless relaxation, then playing upon his cock and thighs and chest and neck and mouth and - ah, yes, god - pierced and unpierced nipples. Working him like a toy, or an instrument, until everything was Angel and pleasure and the rapture of orgasm.
Or there were the tasks during the day. Little things to check Wesley, stopping him like a dog being tugged by a verbal leash, and remind him that at all times he was Angel's property. He was claimed. He was owned. He was cared for, because Angel had promised that he would take care of him.
And perhaps that seemed to others like too much. Like a relationship that went too far, and took things away from him.
But Wesley knew the truth. Which was that Angel spent more time caring for Wesley's happiness than he did on anything else. And that, when Wesley needed him, all he ever had to do is ask.
When Wesley called home, he would always follow it by going to Angel. He wouldn't explain why - and it was a mark of Angel's good friendship that he knew better than to go after the details - but he would appear in Angel's office door and say, without preamble, "Please?"
And Angel would, no matter what he was doing, stop right in the middle of it, tell Harmony to cancel all his other appointments for the day, and then take Wesley upstairs and touch him and kiss him and fuck him until everything else in the world had faded away.
***
Spike was fun. Angel was security. And Wesley couldn't imagine how he'd ended up so fortunate as to be able to have them both.
