Protocol, Party Forty-Four
Aug. 24th, 2005 11:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thebratqueenYou know, I'm loving this system where I reward myself for cleaing stuff off my To Do list by writing whatever the heck I want to. In this case, it's Protocol.
Previous parts can be found here.
PART FORTY-FOUR
"Dad. Dad. *Dad!*"
Angel looked up from his plate. "What?"
It wasn't long after Lord Randolph and Zhanna had left. Angel had declared that there would be a family dinner to cleanse the palate of all the annoyance and formality that they'd all had to go through. For Connor, Spike, and Xander, the concept of a family dinner was old news. For Wesley it was a new experience. He'd tried to fit in as best he could, even though he was convinced that he understood none of it.
For instance, there was the way Connor and Angel treated one another.
"The, just, oh my god," Connor put his hands over his ears and shuddered. "The *singing*."
"What? I'm in a good mood," Angel appealed to the table at large. "Stupid people have been kicked out, I'm surrounded by the family I *actually* like - and, you know, Xander - "
"Love you too, big guy," Xander said.
"Can't I be in a good mood?" Angel asked.
"I thought there was a curse of some kind that said that was a bad idea" Xander said.
"I think your good mood is fine, my Lord," Wesley said. Defending Angel, at least, he knew how to do.
Angel smiled triumphantly. "*Thank* you, Wes. See? Wes likes it."
"Said your mood, prat, not your singing," Spike pointed out around a mouthful of roast.
"Nobody asked your opinion," Angel told him.
Spike rolled his eyes. "Like that's ever stopped me."
"*Do* you like Angel's singing?" Xander leaned over the table to ask Wes. He narrowly missed putting his elbow into the gravy that had smeared along the rim of his plate. "Because I am dying to know what one of you guys would answer to that."
"Everything about my Lord is pleasurable to me," Wesley said, without blinking an eye. "Though I would caution him about singing around my servants."
"Your servants won't like my singing?" Angel asked.
"It will reveal things that I suspect you would rather keep hidden, my Lord," Wesley said. "One of my servants has the ability to tell someone's future, but only when they sing."
"You know the scary thing is that I can't tell if you're making that up," Angel said.
"Why only when they sing?" Connor asked.
"I honestly don't know," Wesley said. He gave Angel an apologetic look. "My Lord, perhaps I should warn you that one of my servants is, erm, a bit unusual."
"Unusual," Angel repeated.
"Not the norm," Wesley explained.
"In ways *other* than the singing thing?"
"Yes, my Lord."
"O... kay," Angel thought about it, then waved his hand dismissively. "No. Don't care. Do you like them?"
Wesley smiled. "Yes, my Lord."
"Then that's all I need to know," Angel picked up his fork again. "Your servants are my servants, people you like are people I like, end of story."
"That's very generous of you, my Lord," Wesley said.
"I am a generous guy," Angel said. "I'm in a generous mood. This is what happens when I'm happy. I sing, and I do nice things for people."
"Can I leave early?" Connor asked.
"No."
"But you just said - "
"You're not people."
"Moving on from what Angel thinks passes for humor," Xander turned to Wes again, "so what happens next?"
Wesley frowned. "Dessert, traditionally."
"I still petition that we have that first," Xander said. He took a roll out of the bread basket and began to dunk pieces of it into his gravy. "Barring that, I was talking about with the Council."
"Lord Randolph takes my Lord's message back to the main headquarters and ideally the Council complies," Wesley said.
"What about with your friend?" Connor asked. "Anything going to happen to her?"
Wesley rubbed his thumb along the curved edges of his knife handle. "No. She will remain with Lord Randolph, happily."
"But he *hurt* her," off of everyone's questioning look, Connor shrugged. "Dad beat down a midget. People talk."
"No husband ever hurts his spouse," Wesley said.
"Hang on," it was Angel's turn to frown. "You were pissed at him, Wes. If not about that, then what?"
Wesley sat back. He folded his hands in his lap. "Spouses are dedicated to their wives or husbands. Whatever our wives or husbands do to us, with us, or near us is of great pleasure no matter what it may be. My displeasure was only that Zhanna was being prevented from serving her Lord to the fullest extent of her abilities."
"That is such bull - " Angel glanced at Connor " - plomacy."
"You know," Connor gave him a look right back, "you could've stopped making up swear words when I was, like, five."
"Wes, you *hated* that guy," Angel said.
"Did my Lord dislike Lord Randolph?" Wesley asked.
"You were there for the beatdown," Angel replied.
"Then yes, I never liked Lord Randolph," Wesley said.
"What if I'd said I'd liked him?" Angel asked.
"Then I would have found a more bullplomatic way of answering you," Wesley replied.
"This is the guy who made the pass at you, right?" Xander asked. "Break rules, touch spouse, make with the killing? Wait, why was there no killing?"
"Been asking myself that same question," Angel said.
"It is within my Lord's domain to ask for such a punishment for anyone who attempts to make use of me without my Lord's permission," Wesley said. "But my Lord was kind enough to show mercy to Zhanna instead."
"Mercy," Spike rolled the word over thoughtfully. "By sending her *back* to the abusive husband?"
Wesley took a sip of water before replying. "Zhanna had no where else to go."
"The Council doesn't have a retirement home for old spouses?" Xander asked.
"We don't retire," Wesley said. "We serve our wives or husbands. Our job is not ours to leave."
"What if somebody disagrees with that?" Angel asked.
"Zhanna wouldn't have, my Lord," Wesley said. "Dedication to her job aside, she had done her duty and taken a love potion. Removing Lord Randolph from her life would have been a death sentence."
"She would have killed herself," Spike guessed.
"Very probably," Wesley said.
"The potion you gave her," Angel said, watching him carefully, "what did that do?"
"Eased the way," Wesley said. "Zhanna's potion making skills were never very strong. The love potion she took... did not allow her to be as dedicated as she would have liked to her husband. I gave her something to aid in removing such obstacles."
"Made her even more of a mindless zombie," Spike translated.
Wesley was keenly aware of all the eyes that were on him. "It's a happy life. It's what she wanted. It's what any of us would want."
"I don't want that for you," Angel said.
"My life is yours to command, my Lord," Wesley said.
"Consider that on the list," Angel told him.
***
Later, when dinner was finished and dessert cleared away, everyone began to make their excuses.
"I'm out of here, *finally*," Connor announced, giving a put-upon look that contrasted with the double helpings of cake that he'd been happy to linger over.
"Where are you going?" Angel asked.
"I'm meeting people to do stuff about things," Connor replied. "Oh, hey, Wes, thanks for your help with that."
Wesley paused from where he'd been feeding bits of meat to Hieronymus. "You're quite welcome."
"Wes has been helping you with stuff?" Angel asked. "What stuff?"
Connor shrugged. "Usual. Manners, decorum, tips on how to give blowjobs."
"I - you - " Angel's mouth opened and closed as he clearly tried to figure out what to jump on first. "You and Wesley - "
"Dad, I'm kidding."
"You *need* tips on that?" Angel demanded, cheerfully leaping onto the next available topic. "Since when?"
"Dad, I'm *joking*."
"If you have a boyfriend - " Angel immediately turned to Wesley " - if he has a boyfriend I want to know about it. I want names, details - " he turned back to Connor " - whoever he is, he is *not* good enough for you."
"You're right," Connor told Spike, "that was so easy to bait him with that it's ridiculous."
"You can see why I got bored after all those centuries," Spike agreed.
"Fun watching Angel turn all those pretty colors though," Xander said.
Wesley took pity on his husband. "Connor is joking, my Lord. I only gave him suggestions on card playing. He and his friends are going to have a game of poker tonight."
"Had to ruin my fun, huh?" Connor asked.
Wesley made an apologetic face. "Sorry. My duty is to your father."
"S'okay, I get it," Connor said.
"Cards are okay," Angel said. "Anybody you date has to be vetted by me and they're all going to suck."
"Yeah, 'cause *that* encourages me to bring people home," Connor smirked. "Okay, I'm out of here."
"Us too," Xander gave a long and lanky stretch. "There's a bed with my name on it. Also Spike's, hence the bounce in my step as I go in that direction."
"If I give you money will you stop with the details?" Angel asked.
Wesley took in the situation. "My Lord, if you'd like I can take care of what needs to be done here. I can join you in our bedroom when I'm finished."
"Speaking of money and no details," Xander said.
"Just for that, I'm singing on the way there," Angel told him.
"Good night everybody!" Xander immediately headed for the door. He grabbed Spike by the shirt front on the way out. "You come with."
"I'm in charge most times," Spike said to Wesley and Angel.
"*Sure*," Angel drawled. He blew Spike a kiss as Xander dragged him out the door. "Wes, you don't have to clean this up."
"I'm only tidying a few things, my Lord," Wesley said. "It won't take a moment."
"If you insist," Angel stood up with great effort, wincing as weight was put on his right leg. "See you in the bedroom?"
"I look forward to it, my Lord," Wesley said.
***
As soon as Wesley was alone and reasonably convinced that Angel couldn't hear him, he darted out into the hall. "Spike? Spike!"
The blond vampire looked up from where he'd been kissing Xander in one of the alcoves. "What?"
"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt," Wesley said. He quickened his pace to catch up with them. "I - I wanted to talk to you about my Lord."
"Laugh at his jokes, don't make fun of his hair," Xander said.
"Not that," Wesley said. He looked at Spike. "His leg."
Spike gave a knowing laugh. "Yeah. That. He still limping like a man with no posture in the middle of Notre Dame?"
"He said you can fix it," Wesley said.
"Can, yeah," Spike ran a hand over his head, smoothing out hair that Xander had undoubtedly mussed. "Will he *let* me, that's the bloody question."
"Why not?" Wesley asked.
"Because he's a stubborn arsehole and always has been," Spike said. "Got suffer bravely through all his brooding manpain. He can't ever admit he needs help and he can't ever admit that he *wants* it. You get him to sit still long enough for me to take out the leg and I'd be happy to."
"Will it hurt him?" Wesley asked.
"Like Hell," Spike said, not without sympathy. "But better that than what he's putting himself through. It's only going to get worse. Wait too long to fix it and - " Spike shrugged, disclaiming any guarantee of positive results.
"All right," Wesley said. "Thank you."
"Didn't know you cared," Spike said.
Wesley looked at him, puzzled. "He's my husband."
"Guess so," Spike said.
***
The suite was silent when Wesley returned to it. A quick scouting session determined that Angel was in the bathroom, and Hieronymus had retired to his cat bed for the night.
Wesley took advantage of this privacy to strip off his dinner clothes and exchange them for a robe he had tucked away in the back of his armoire. The robe was deep purple, silk, and decorated with fine gold embroidery that suggested imagery of fish.
Clothes taken care of, Wesley then attended to their bed. He inspected the sheets for wrinkles, patted the pillows into welcoming puffs, and pulled the blankets back so that Angel wouldn't have to.
Luxuries next. Wesley applied a light cologne in dabs on his chest, arms, and knees. Not the neck. He'd done that before, but sensed that Angel preferred a natural scent in that particular area. Wesley had once been disquieted to think of the impulses that inspired that, but now he was happy to know that he did something which pleased his husband.
Wesley lit candles. He took out massage oil in case Angel might wish to make use of it. He began to debate lighting incense as well when the bathroom door opened.
"That new?"
Wesley sat up, posture perfect, and faced his husband. Angel was dressed in black pajama bottoms and nothing else. The light from the fireplace bathed him in an orange glow. "My Lord?"
"That," Angel circled his hand in the air, indicating Wesley's outfit. "New?"
"New to you, my Lord," Wesley said. "I had it amongst my things. I've never worn it before."
Angel walked around the bed, studying Wesley. He limped the entire time which made Wesley grit his teeth with the desire to tell him to sit *down*. "Pretty."
"Thank you, my Lord," Wesley patted the empty space next to him. "Would you care to join me?"
"New outfit *and* I get to sit on your side of the bed," Angel sat beside Wesley, unsuccessfully muffling the groan the movement produced. "Banner day. What'd I do?"
Wesley immediately moved to begin massaging Angel's shoulders. "You are my husband. You don't need to do anything."
Angel took in the bed, the oil, and the candlelight. "I somehow feel this is a special occasion."
"This is actually par for the course for spouses and husbands," Wesley said. "I would offer this to you every night, if circumstances allowed it."
"I'd say that's not necessary except that rapidly disappearing knot in my left shoulder would probably prove that I'm lying," Angel leaned forward, giving Wesley better access. "You are *magic* with your touch, Wes."
Wesley couldn't resist a coy smile. "My touch could be magic elsewhere, my husband."
"Okay, I *definitely* did something good if I'm getting flirting on top of pampering," Angel tilted his head back to look up at him. "What was it? I'll do it again."
Wesley moved his hands up. He caressed Angel's neck and jawline. "My Lord, in all honesty this *is* what I would offer you every night under normal circumstances."
"Can't argue that we've lacked for normal ever since you got here," Angel said. "But my gut's saying there's more to the story."
"Well..." Wesley ran a fingertip along Angel's collarbone, "my Lord *did* say he would get my servants for me."
"That what this is about?" Angel asked.
"My Lord may remember how grateful I was when he returned my cat to me," Wesley pointed out.
"Ahh," Angel said, nodding with recognition. "So servants are, what? Worth two cats?"
"Three," Wesley said. "Possibly four. Each."
"I'll get you a thousand servants if it makes you this happy," Angel shifted position so that he could lie down. He took one of Wesley's hands in his own, resting it on his stomach. "Are you? Happy? You look it."
"I am," Wesley said. He turned around so that they could face one another. "Very happy. The kindness you've shown to me - "
"Little better than ol' Randy, huh?"
"*Lint* would be better than Lord Randolph," Wesley replied.
Angel grinned. "Sarcasm! I *did* do good."
"You always do," Wesley said.
"Yeah, but you have to say that," Angel moved his free hand behind his head to act as a pillow. "'course, now that I've seen the competition - "
"Lord Randolph was *never* your competition," Wesley said, eagerness to disclaim any connection temporarily overwhelming the protocol to not interrupt his husband.
"He wanted to be, though, right?" the tone made it clear that Angel's question was mostly rhetorical. "He was serious about making a pass at you."
"Very," Wesley made a face of disgust. "He always has been."
That perked Angel's interest. "You knew him before."
"From my days as a student," Wesley said. "He wished to have me, but was not high-ranking enough to be taken seriously."
"Don't ever let anybody blackmail you, Wes," Angel said. "I don't care what they say. You never have to give in to creeps like that to make sure I'm happy."
"I wouldn't have, my Lord," Wesley assured him. "Lord Randolph has both an over inflated sense of his own worth, and his understanding of the rules of protocol. I serve but one person, and that is you, my Lord. No one else may command me, even pathetic little twerps who believe they have an upper hand."
"Good," Angel sat up. He brushed the back of his left hand across Wesley's cheek. "I - you know I was going to give this whole speech here about how if you found somebody that you wanted I'd support you and blah blah blah."
"'Were' going to give that speech, my Lord?" Wesley asked.
"Yeah," Angel dropped his hand back down onto the bed. "Then I looked at you and all I could think of was how good it felt to hurt somebody who was trying to touch you."
Wesley felt something warm uncurl inside of his chest. It was as though he'd taken a deep drink of fine whisky. He leaned forward, getting close to, but not coming in contact with, Angel. "It felt rather good to watch you, my Lord."
Wesley had spoken the title with an implicit invitation. Perhaps hearing it, or perhaps uncaring of anything save their proximity, Angel closed the distance between them with a kiss.
The entire night had felt like a tease of Wesley's libido. Which was unusual in and of itself because Wesley still wasn't used to having one. But the sight of Angel happy, relaxed, joking with his family, welcoming of Wesley at every turn, had touched something deep inside of him and made Wesley feel as though it were completely and utterly wrong that he wasn't in full body contact with the man his entire life was devoted to.
"Empty," Wesley murmured in the gasps of air that were given to him in the space between Angel's hungry lips and tongue. Wesley wrapped his arms around Angel's neck, using the position to offer up his own body for whatever Angel might want of it. "I feel so empty without you, my Lord."
It was a proclamation that Angel apparently never tired of hearing. He groaned, his hands on Wesley's hips, drawing him closer so that they were hip to hip, chest to chest, Wesley's hand naturally moving down to brace himself and going past - yes! Angel's erection. Hard and hot and awake for him already. Wesley immediately began to stroke it, the heat of his skin warming the cloth of Angel's pajama bottoms and adding an extra layer of sensation to the squeezing, and the up and down, and -
"Want you," Angel said, breaking the kiss so he could devote his attention to undoing the belt of Wesley's robe. "Want you so God damned - do that thing."
Wesley repeated the last fluttering touch of his hand. "That, my Lord?"
Angel's eyes fluttered closed. "That... is *nice*. But the *other* thing."
"I know so many things which I could offer for my Lord's pleasure," Wesley said.
Angel lay back down. He pulled Wesley with him, holding him so that Wesley was poised above him with inches to spare. "Do that thing where I can fuck you good and hard and it doesn't hurt me."
"Of course, my Lord," Wesley said at once. He reached for the massage oil, taking it with him as he moved down Angel's body. He carefully positioned himself so he did not jostle Angel's leg. Pajama bottoms were pushed out of the way, then an oil slick hand began to stroke Angel's cock.
Wesley savored the sounds of moans and whimpers that his touch created. Then he prepped himself, leaving the robe on as Angel hadn't asked him to remove it. Once done, he moved back up. His own thigh muscles straining and very grateful for the exercises which trained him for just such occasions, he lowered himself down onto Angel's erection. Sparks shot through his body. Wesley bit his lower lip to control himself. "Is that what my Lord requested?"
Angel ran his hands along Wesley's legs, then up his chest. He opened the robe just enough so that he could trace his fingernails over Wesley's nipples. "Yeah. That's it."
"My Lord may fuck me as hard as he likes," Wesley said. He rocked his hips for emphasis. "As long as he likes."
"You keep looking at me like that and it might be twice," Angel said.
"I'm prepared to live with that," Wesley told him.
***
Later, when Angel had taken him hard enough that Wesley felt blissfully sore, and then jerked him off with such skill that Wesley had come while gasping and laughing all at once, they shed the remains of their clothes and curled up underneath the covers.
"Warm enough?" Angel asked.
"Very," Wesley said. His head was pillowed on Angel's left arm. Angel's chest mirrored his own heat back to him. Every muscle in his body felt used and exhilarated. He felt giddy. "Are you, my Lord?"
"Warm's not really a problem for me," Angel said, "But thanks."
"Duly noted, my Lord."
"So," Angel rubbed his free hand over his face. Wesley could see the faintest hint of stubble on Angel's cheeks. "That was fun."
Wesley couldn't help the grin that shaped his face. "Very, my Lord."
"You liked it?" Angel looked genuinely curious. Or worried. "I'm never sure if I'm doing anything that impresses you."
"You don't have to impress me, my Lord," Wesley said. "You're perfect as you are. But if your question is whether your actions in the bedroom give me pleasure, the answer is an unequivocal yes."
"That is the most polite, formally worded pillow talk I have ever heard," Angel said.
"I could write you an engraved thank you note, if you'd rather."
"Oo - sarcasm again," it was Angel's turn to have a huge grin. "I *did* do good."
Wesley lifted his head so that he could whisper in Angel's ear. "Or would my Lord prefer to hear me speak of the way his enormous cock makes my body throb with desire? Or how the thought of him fucking me hot and hard makes me ache so much I feel as though I might go insane? Or how his touch makes me - "
"No - " Angel held a hand up to stop him. "I mean yes. Yes. Very much yes. But give me like five minutes because some of us do have a refractory period."
"Of course, my Lord," Wesley settled down against Angel's arm, perfectly content to wait.
"Sex stuff is no different to you having a cup of tea, is it?" Angel shook his head, marveling at it. "You are such a mystery to me, Wes."
"I'm sorry, my Lord?"
"Wasn't a bad thing," Angel rubbed Wesley's back to reassure him. "I'm enjoying getting to know you. You're an unexpected guy."
"Sex is *slightly* different than having a cup of tea, my Lord," Wesley said.
"You're normally dressed at teatime?"
"Also tea is rarely disappointing."
That earned him a bark of laughter. "See? Unexpected."
"I'm glad if I can make you happy, my Lord," Wesley said.
"You can, you do," Angel patted his back, encouraging him to come closer. Wesley turned around so that he could pillow his head on Angel's chest while still looking at him. "What about you? How can I make you happy?"
"I'm very happy right now," Wesley said.
"Fine, but that's *normal* happy," Angel said. "I want to do, I dunno, two servants happy."
"My Lord?"
"Let me go above and beyond what you've got right now," Angel said.
Wesley thought about it. "My Lord, may I ask you a question?"
"Yes," Angel punctuated his answer with a kiss to Wesley's forehead. "Ask me ten. You have questions, I have answers."
"How do you feel about Connor?"
"Huh?"
"Your son," Wesley said, feeling out the question even as he was asking it. "How do you feel about him?"
"He's my son," Angel said. When that didn't trigger any look of understanding on Wesley's part he kept going. "I... love him? Is that what you want to know?"
"Other than love," Wesley said. "How would you describe your feelings if you did not use that phrasing?"
Angel ran his tongue absent-mindedly over his lower lip. "Huh. Um - proud? Thrilled that he's alive? Grateful for every single moment that I'm with him? He's happy, I'm happy. He's unhappy and I'm ready to destroy the world if it means he's smiling again. Like I had no idea how amazing life could be until I met him. Like I didn't even know what *love* was until I met him. Like if I lost him, I would die."
"I see," Wesley said. He rolled the words over in his mind.
Angel looked at him curiously. "That the answer you were looking for?"
"Yes, my Lord," Wesley said. "Thank you."
"That's kind of a weird thing to ask me in exchange for above and beyond," Angel said.
"It's not my place to pry into your affairs, my Lord," Wesley told him.
"Even so that's not exactly a state secret you got out of me," Angel said. "Ask anybody around here and they could've told you the same thing."
"I wanted to ask *you*, my Lord," Wesley said.
"Fair enough," Angel settled back against the pillows. "Still, there's got to be something else. Come on, there's nothing else you want to try to sneak in here while we're enjoying a nice night?"
Wesley thought about it. He sat up enough so that he could make eye contact. "My Lord, I was going to do a very protocol approved action by pointing out to you that if you wished to make full use of me in the bedroom, to your own pleasure of course, you could do so by being on top."
"I don't get it," Angel said.
Wesley caressed Angel's abdomen, reminding him of the position they'd recently been in. "It's an underhanded way of prompting you to do something which would make me happy."
"My being on top makes you happy?" Angel asked.
"Any form of being with you makes me happy, my Lord," Wesley said. "But what would make me happier still is if you were well. If I am being granted a favor, I'd like you to fix your leg. Every moment I see you in pain is a misery to me."
"It's no big - " Angel started to say, then he saw the look on Wesley's face. "You've been that worried about me?"
"Every moment, my Lord," Wesley said.
Angel looked long and hard into Wesley's eyes. Then, apparently deciding he'd found what he was searching for, he nodded. "Okay. You got it. For you I'll move up the schedule. I'll fix the leg."
Wesley let out a breath of air. "Thank you, my Lord."
"Whatever makes you happy," Angel said. He pressed a kiss to Wesley's cheek, then another to his mouth.
"You're very generous to me, my Lord," Wesley said.
"You say that now," Angel said, "but one day I'm going to teach you how to ask for actual gifts."
"I can't imagine wanting any," Wesley said.
"Yeah," Angel gave a wry grimace. "That'd be my point."
***
Previous parts can be found here.
PART FORTY-FOUR
"Dad. Dad. *Dad!*"
Angel looked up from his plate. "What?"
It wasn't long after Lord Randolph and Zhanna had left. Angel had declared that there would be a family dinner to cleanse the palate of all the annoyance and formality that they'd all had to go through. For Connor, Spike, and Xander, the concept of a family dinner was old news. For Wesley it was a new experience. He'd tried to fit in as best he could, even though he was convinced that he understood none of it.
For instance, there was the way Connor and Angel treated one another.
"The, just, oh my god," Connor put his hands over his ears and shuddered. "The *singing*."
"What? I'm in a good mood," Angel appealed to the table at large. "Stupid people have been kicked out, I'm surrounded by the family I *actually* like - and, you know, Xander - "
"Love you too, big guy," Xander said.
"Can't I be in a good mood?" Angel asked.
"I thought there was a curse of some kind that said that was a bad idea" Xander said.
"I think your good mood is fine, my Lord," Wesley said. Defending Angel, at least, he knew how to do.
Angel smiled triumphantly. "*Thank* you, Wes. See? Wes likes it."
"Said your mood, prat, not your singing," Spike pointed out around a mouthful of roast.
"Nobody asked your opinion," Angel told him.
Spike rolled his eyes. "Like that's ever stopped me."
"*Do* you like Angel's singing?" Xander leaned over the table to ask Wes. He narrowly missed putting his elbow into the gravy that had smeared along the rim of his plate. "Because I am dying to know what one of you guys would answer to that."
"Everything about my Lord is pleasurable to me," Wesley said, without blinking an eye. "Though I would caution him about singing around my servants."
"Your servants won't like my singing?" Angel asked.
"It will reveal things that I suspect you would rather keep hidden, my Lord," Wesley said. "One of my servants has the ability to tell someone's future, but only when they sing."
"You know the scary thing is that I can't tell if you're making that up," Angel said.
"Why only when they sing?" Connor asked.
"I honestly don't know," Wesley said. He gave Angel an apologetic look. "My Lord, perhaps I should warn you that one of my servants is, erm, a bit unusual."
"Unusual," Angel repeated.
"Not the norm," Wesley explained.
"In ways *other* than the singing thing?"
"Yes, my Lord."
"O... kay," Angel thought about it, then waved his hand dismissively. "No. Don't care. Do you like them?"
Wesley smiled. "Yes, my Lord."
"Then that's all I need to know," Angel picked up his fork again. "Your servants are my servants, people you like are people I like, end of story."
"That's very generous of you, my Lord," Wesley said.
"I am a generous guy," Angel said. "I'm in a generous mood. This is what happens when I'm happy. I sing, and I do nice things for people."
"Can I leave early?" Connor asked.
"No."
"But you just said - "
"You're not people."
"Moving on from what Angel thinks passes for humor," Xander turned to Wes again, "so what happens next?"
Wesley frowned. "Dessert, traditionally."
"I still petition that we have that first," Xander said. He took a roll out of the bread basket and began to dunk pieces of it into his gravy. "Barring that, I was talking about with the Council."
"Lord Randolph takes my Lord's message back to the main headquarters and ideally the Council complies," Wesley said.
"What about with your friend?" Connor asked. "Anything going to happen to her?"
Wesley rubbed his thumb along the curved edges of his knife handle. "No. She will remain with Lord Randolph, happily."
"But he *hurt* her," off of everyone's questioning look, Connor shrugged. "Dad beat down a midget. People talk."
"No husband ever hurts his spouse," Wesley said.
"Hang on," it was Angel's turn to frown. "You were pissed at him, Wes. If not about that, then what?"
Wesley sat back. He folded his hands in his lap. "Spouses are dedicated to their wives or husbands. Whatever our wives or husbands do to us, with us, or near us is of great pleasure no matter what it may be. My displeasure was only that Zhanna was being prevented from serving her Lord to the fullest extent of her abilities."
"That is such bull - " Angel glanced at Connor " - plomacy."
"You know," Connor gave him a look right back, "you could've stopped making up swear words when I was, like, five."
"Wes, you *hated* that guy," Angel said.
"Did my Lord dislike Lord Randolph?" Wesley asked.
"You were there for the beatdown," Angel replied.
"Then yes, I never liked Lord Randolph," Wesley said.
"What if I'd said I'd liked him?" Angel asked.
"Then I would have found a more bullplomatic way of answering you," Wesley replied.
"This is the guy who made the pass at you, right?" Xander asked. "Break rules, touch spouse, make with the killing? Wait, why was there no killing?"
"Been asking myself that same question," Angel said.
"It is within my Lord's domain to ask for such a punishment for anyone who attempts to make use of me without my Lord's permission," Wesley said. "But my Lord was kind enough to show mercy to Zhanna instead."
"Mercy," Spike rolled the word over thoughtfully. "By sending her *back* to the abusive husband?"
Wesley took a sip of water before replying. "Zhanna had no where else to go."
"The Council doesn't have a retirement home for old spouses?" Xander asked.
"We don't retire," Wesley said. "We serve our wives or husbands. Our job is not ours to leave."
"What if somebody disagrees with that?" Angel asked.
"Zhanna wouldn't have, my Lord," Wesley said. "Dedication to her job aside, she had done her duty and taken a love potion. Removing Lord Randolph from her life would have been a death sentence."
"She would have killed herself," Spike guessed.
"Very probably," Wesley said.
"The potion you gave her," Angel said, watching him carefully, "what did that do?"
"Eased the way," Wesley said. "Zhanna's potion making skills were never very strong. The love potion she took... did not allow her to be as dedicated as she would have liked to her husband. I gave her something to aid in removing such obstacles."
"Made her even more of a mindless zombie," Spike translated.
Wesley was keenly aware of all the eyes that were on him. "It's a happy life. It's what she wanted. It's what any of us would want."
"I don't want that for you," Angel said.
"My life is yours to command, my Lord," Wesley said.
"Consider that on the list," Angel told him.
***
Later, when dinner was finished and dessert cleared away, everyone began to make their excuses.
"I'm out of here, *finally*," Connor announced, giving a put-upon look that contrasted with the double helpings of cake that he'd been happy to linger over.
"Where are you going?" Angel asked.
"I'm meeting people to do stuff about things," Connor replied. "Oh, hey, Wes, thanks for your help with that."
Wesley paused from where he'd been feeding bits of meat to Hieronymus. "You're quite welcome."
"Wes has been helping you with stuff?" Angel asked. "What stuff?"
Connor shrugged. "Usual. Manners, decorum, tips on how to give blowjobs."
"I - you - " Angel's mouth opened and closed as he clearly tried to figure out what to jump on first. "You and Wesley - "
"Dad, I'm kidding."
"You *need* tips on that?" Angel demanded, cheerfully leaping onto the next available topic. "Since when?"
"Dad, I'm *joking*."
"If you have a boyfriend - " Angel immediately turned to Wesley " - if he has a boyfriend I want to know about it. I want names, details - " he turned back to Connor " - whoever he is, he is *not* good enough for you."
"You're right," Connor told Spike, "that was so easy to bait him with that it's ridiculous."
"You can see why I got bored after all those centuries," Spike agreed.
"Fun watching Angel turn all those pretty colors though," Xander said.
Wesley took pity on his husband. "Connor is joking, my Lord. I only gave him suggestions on card playing. He and his friends are going to have a game of poker tonight."
"Had to ruin my fun, huh?" Connor asked.
Wesley made an apologetic face. "Sorry. My duty is to your father."
"S'okay, I get it," Connor said.
"Cards are okay," Angel said. "Anybody you date has to be vetted by me and they're all going to suck."
"Yeah, 'cause *that* encourages me to bring people home," Connor smirked. "Okay, I'm out of here."
"Us too," Xander gave a long and lanky stretch. "There's a bed with my name on it. Also Spike's, hence the bounce in my step as I go in that direction."
"If I give you money will you stop with the details?" Angel asked.
Wesley took in the situation. "My Lord, if you'd like I can take care of what needs to be done here. I can join you in our bedroom when I'm finished."
"Speaking of money and no details," Xander said.
"Just for that, I'm singing on the way there," Angel told him.
"Good night everybody!" Xander immediately headed for the door. He grabbed Spike by the shirt front on the way out. "You come with."
"I'm in charge most times," Spike said to Wesley and Angel.
"*Sure*," Angel drawled. He blew Spike a kiss as Xander dragged him out the door. "Wes, you don't have to clean this up."
"I'm only tidying a few things, my Lord," Wesley said. "It won't take a moment."
"If you insist," Angel stood up with great effort, wincing as weight was put on his right leg. "See you in the bedroom?"
"I look forward to it, my Lord," Wesley said.
***
As soon as Wesley was alone and reasonably convinced that Angel couldn't hear him, he darted out into the hall. "Spike? Spike!"
The blond vampire looked up from where he'd been kissing Xander in one of the alcoves. "What?"
"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt," Wesley said. He quickened his pace to catch up with them. "I - I wanted to talk to you about my Lord."
"Laugh at his jokes, don't make fun of his hair," Xander said.
"Not that," Wesley said. He looked at Spike. "His leg."
Spike gave a knowing laugh. "Yeah. That. He still limping like a man with no posture in the middle of Notre Dame?"
"He said you can fix it," Wesley said.
"Can, yeah," Spike ran a hand over his head, smoothing out hair that Xander had undoubtedly mussed. "Will he *let* me, that's the bloody question."
"Why not?" Wesley asked.
"Because he's a stubborn arsehole and always has been," Spike said. "Got suffer bravely through all his brooding manpain. He can't ever admit he needs help and he can't ever admit that he *wants* it. You get him to sit still long enough for me to take out the leg and I'd be happy to."
"Will it hurt him?" Wesley asked.
"Like Hell," Spike said, not without sympathy. "But better that than what he's putting himself through. It's only going to get worse. Wait too long to fix it and - " Spike shrugged, disclaiming any guarantee of positive results.
"All right," Wesley said. "Thank you."
"Didn't know you cared," Spike said.
Wesley looked at him, puzzled. "He's my husband."
"Guess so," Spike said.
***
The suite was silent when Wesley returned to it. A quick scouting session determined that Angel was in the bathroom, and Hieronymus had retired to his cat bed for the night.
Wesley took advantage of this privacy to strip off his dinner clothes and exchange them for a robe he had tucked away in the back of his armoire. The robe was deep purple, silk, and decorated with fine gold embroidery that suggested imagery of fish.
Clothes taken care of, Wesley then attended to their bed. He inspected the sheets for wrinkles, patted the pillows into welcoming puffs, and pulled the blankets back so that Angel wouldn't have to.
Luxuries next. Wesley applied a light cologne in dabs on his chest, arms, and knees. Not the neck. He'd done that before, but sensed that Angel preferred a natural scent in that particular area. Wesley had once been disquieted to think of the impulses that inspired that, but now he was happy to know that he did something which pleased his husband.
Wesley lit candles. He took out massage oil in case Angel might wish to make use of it. He began to debate lighting incense as well when the bathroom door opened.
"That new?"
Wesley sat up, posture perfect, and faced his husband. Angel was dressed in black pajama bottoms and nothing else. The light from the fireplace bathed him in an orange glow. "My Lord?"
"That," Angel circled his hand in the air, indicating Wesley's outfit. "New?"
"New to you, my Lord," Wesley said. "I had it amongst my things. I've never worn it before."
Angel walked around the bed, studying Wesley. He limped the entire time which made Wesley grit his teeth with the desire to tell him to sit *down*. "Pretty."
"Thank you, my Lord," Wesley patted the empty space next to him. "Would you care to join me?"
"New outfit *and* I get to sit on your side of the bed," Angel sat beside Wesley, unsuccessfully muffling the groan the movement produced. "Banner day. What'd I do?"
Wesley immediately moved to begin massaging Angel's shoulders. "You are my husband. You don't need to do anything."
Angel took in the bed, the oil, and the candlelight. "I somehow feel this is a special occasion."
"This is actually par for the course for spouses and husbands," Wesley said. "I would offer this to you every night, if circumstances allowed it."
"I'd say that's not necessary except that rapidly disappearing knot in my left shoulder would probably prove that I'm lying," Angel leaned forward, giving Wesley better access. "You are *magic* with your touch, Wes."
Wesley couldn't resist a coy smile. "My touch could be magic elsewhere, my husband."
"Okay, I *definitely* did something good if I'm getting flirting on top of pampering," Angel tilted his head back to look up at him. "What was it? I'll do it again."
Wesley moved his hands up. He caressed Angel's neck and jawline. "My Lord, in all honesty this *is* what I would offer you every night under normal circumstances."
"Can't argue that we've lacked for normal ever since you got here," Angel said. "But my gut's saying there's more to the story."
"Well..." Wesley ran a fingertip along Angel's collarbone, "my Lord *did* say he would get my servants for me."
"That what this is about?" Angel asked.
"My Lord may remember how grateful I was when he returned my cat to me," Wesley pointed out.
"Ahh," Angel said, nodding with recognition. "So servants are, what? Worth two cats?"
"Three," Wesley said. "Possibly four. Each."
"I'll get you a thousand servants if it makes you this happy," Angel shifted position so that he could lie down. He took one of Wesley's hands in his own, resting it on his stomach. "Are you? Happy? You look it."
"I am," Wesley said. He turned around so that they could face one another. "Very happy. The kindness you've shown to me - "
"Little better than ol' Randy, huh?"
"*Lint* would be better than Lord Randolph," Wesley replied.
Angel grinned. "Sarcasm! I *did* do good."
"You always do," Wesley said.
"Yeah, but you have to say that," Angel moved his free hand behind his head to act as a pillow. "'course, now that I've seen the competition - "
"Lord Randolph was *never* your competition," Wesley said, eagerness to disclaim any connection temporarily overwhelming the protocol to not interrupt his husband.
"He wanted to be, though, right?" the tone made it clear that Angel's question was mostly rhetorical. "He was serious about making a pass at you."
"Very," Wesley made a face of disgust. "He always has been."
That perked Angel's interest. "You knew him before."
"From my days as a student," Wesley said. "He wished to have me, but was not high-ranking enough to be taken seriously."
"Don't ever let anybody blackmail you, Wes," Angel said. "I don't care what they say. You never have to give in to creeps like that to make sure I'm happy."
"I wouldn't have, my Lord," Wesley assured him. "Lord Randolph has both an over inflated sense of his own worth, and his understanding of the rules of protocol. I serve but one person, and that is you, my Lord. No one else may command me, even pathetic little twerps who believe they have an upper hand."
"Good," Angel sat up. He brushed the back of his left hand across Wesley's cheek. "I - you know I was going to give this whole speech here about how if you found somebody that you wanted I'd support you and blah blah blah."
"'Were' going to give that speech, my Lord?" Wesley asked.
"Yeah," Angel dropped his hand back down onto the bed. "Then I looked at you and all I could think of was how good it felt to hurt somebody who was trying to touch you."
Wesley felt something warm uncurl inside of his chest. It was as though he'd taken a deep drink of fine whisky. He leaned forward, getting close to, but not coming in contact with, Angel. "It felt rather good to watch you, my Lord."
Wesley had spoken the title with an implicit invitation. Perhaps hearing it, or perhaps uncaring of anything save their proximity, Angel closed the distance between them with a kiss.
The entire night had felt like a tease of Wesley's libido. Which was unusual in and of itself because Wesley still wasn't used to having one. But the sight of Angel happy, relaxed, joking with his family, welcoming of Wesley at every turn, had touched something deep inside of him and made Wesley feel as though it were completely and utterly wrong that he wasn't in full body contact with the man his entire life was devoted to.
"Empty," Wesley murmured in the gasps of air that were given to him in the space between Angel's hungry lips and tongue. Wesley wrapped his arms around Angel's neck, using the position to offer up his own body for whatever Angel might want of it. "I feel so empty without you, my Lord."
It was a proclamation that Angel apparently never tired of hearing. He groaned, his hands on Wesley's hips, drawing him closer so that they were hip to hip, chest to chest, Wesley's hand naturally moving down to brace himself and going past - yes! Angel's erection. Hard and hot and awake for him already. Wesley immediately began to stroke it, the heat of his skin warming the cloth of Angel's pajama bottoms and adding an extra layer of sensation to the squeezing, and the up and down, and -
"Want you," Angel said, breaking the kiss so he could devote his attention to undoing the belt of Wesley's robe. "Want you so God damned - do that thing."
Wesley repeated the last fluttering touch of his hand. "That, my Lord?"
Angel's eyes fluttered closed. "That... is *nice*. But the *other* thing."
"I know so many things which I could offer for my Lord's pleasure," Wesley said.
Angel lay back down. He pulled Wesley with him, holding him so that Wesley was poised above him with inches to spare. "Do that thing where I can fuck you good and hard and it doesn't hurt me."
"Of course, my Lord," Wesley said at once. He reached for the massage oil, taking it with him as he moved down Angel's body. He carefully positioned himself so he did not jostle Angel's leg. Pajama bottoms were pushed out of the way, then an oil slick hand began to stroke Angel's cock.
Wesley savored the sounds of moans and whimpers that his touch created. Then he prepped himself, leaving the robe on as Angel hadn't asked him to remove it. Once done, he moved back up. His own thigh muscles straining and very grateful for the exercises which trained him for just such occasions, he lowered himself down onto Angel's erection. Sparks shot through his body. Wesley bit his lower lip to control himself. "Is that what my Lord requested?"
Angel ran his hands along Wesley's legs, then up his chest. He opened the robe just enough so that he could trace his fingernails over Wesley's nipples. "Yeah. That's it."
"My Lord may fuck me as hard as he likes," Wesley said. He rocked his hips for emphasis. "As long as he likes."
"You keep looking at me like that and it might be twice," Angel said.
"I'm prepared to live with that," Wesley told him.
***
Later, when Angel had taken him hard enough that Wesley felt blissfully sore, and then jerked him off with such skill that Wesley had come while gasping and laughing all at once, they shed the remains of their clothes and curled up underneath the covers.
"Warm enough?" Angel asked.
"Very," Wesley said. His head was pillowed on Angel's left arm. Angel's chest mirrored his own heat back to him. Every muscle in his body felt used and exhilarated. He felt giddy. "Are you, my Lord?"
"Warm's not really a problem for me," Angel said, "But thanks."
"Duly noted, my Lord."
"So," Angel rubbed his free hand over his face. Wesley could see the faintest hint of stubble on Angel's cheeks. "That was fun."
Wesley couldn't help the grin that shaped his face. "Very, my Lord."
"You liked it?" Angel looked genuinely curious. Or worried. "I'm never sure if I'm doing anything that impresses you."
"You don't have to impress me, my Lord," Wesley said. "You're perfect as you are. But if your question is whether your actions in the bedroom give me pleasure, the answer is an unequivocal yes."
"That is the most polite, formally worded pillow talk I have ever heard," Angel said.
"I could write you an engraved thank you note, if you'd rather."
"Oo - sarcasm again," it was Angel's turn to have a huge grin. "I *did* do good."
Wesley lifted his head so that he could whisper in Angel's ear. "Or would my Lord prefer to hear me speak of the way his enormous cock makes my body throb with desire? Or how the thought of him fucking me hot and hard makes me ache so much I feel as though I might go insane? Or how his touch makes me - "
"No - " Angel held a hand up to stop him. "I mean yes. Yes. Very much yes. But give me like five minutes because some of us do have a refractory period."
"Of course, my Lord," Wesley settled down against Angel's arm, perfectly content to wait.
"Sex stuff is no different to you having a cup of tea, is it?" Angel shook his head, marveling at it. "You are such a mystery to me, Wes."
"I'm sorry, my Lord?"
"Wasn't a bad thing," Angel rubbed Wesley's back to reassure him. "I'm enjoying getting to know you. You're an unexpected guy."
"Sex is *slightly* different than having a cup of tea, my Lord," Wesley said.
"You're normally dressed at teatime?"
"Also tea is rarely disappointing."
That earned him a bark of laughter. "See? Unexpected."
"I'm glad if I can make you happy, my Lord," Wesley said.
"You can, you do," Angel patted his back, encouraging him to come closer. Wesley turned around so that he could pillow his head on Angel's chest while still looking at him. "What about you? How can I make you happy?"
"I'm very happy right now," Wesley said.
"Fine, but that's *normal* happy," Angel said. "I want to do, I dunno, two servants happy."
"My Lord?"
"Let me go above and beyond what you've got right now," Angel said.
Wesley thought about it. "My Lord, may I ask you a question?"
"Yes," Angel punctuated his answer with a kiss to Wesley's forehead. "Ask me ten. You have questions, I have answers."
"How do you feel about Connor?"
"Huh?"
"Your son," Wesley said, feeling out the question even as he was asking it. "How do you feel about him?"
"He's my son," Angel said. When that didn't trigger any look of understanding on Wesley's part he kept going. "I... love him? Is that what you want to know?"
"Other than love," Wesley said. "How would you describe your feelings if you did not use that phrasing?"
Angel ran his tongue absent-mindedly over his lower lip. "Huh. Um - proud? Thrilled that he's alive? Grateful for every single moment that I'm with him? He's happy, I'm happy. He's unhappy and I'm ready to destroy the world if it means he's smiling again. Like I had no idea how amazing life could be until I met him. Like I didn't even know what *love* was until I met him. Like if I lost him, I would die."
"I see," Wesley said. He rolled the words over in his mind.
Angel looked at him curiously. "That the answer you were looking for?"
"Yes, my Lord," Wesley said. "Thank you."
"That's kind of a weird thing to ask me in exchange for above and beyond," Angel said.
"It's not my place to pry into your affairs, my Lord," Wesley told him.
"Even so that's not exactly a state secret you got out of me," Angel said. "Ask anybody around here and they could've told you the same thing."
"I wanted to ask *you*, my Lord," Wesley said.
"Fair enough," Angel settled back against the pillows. "Still, there's got to be something else. Come on, there's nothing else you want to try to sneak in here while we're enjoying a nice night?"
Wesley thought about it. He sat up enough so that he could make eye contact. "My Lord, I was going to do a very protocol approved action by pointing out to you that if you wished to make full use of me in the bedroom, to your own pleasure of course, you could do so by being on top."
"I don't get it," Angel said.
Wesley caressed Angel's abdomen, reminding him of the position they'd recently been in. "It's an underhanded way of prompting you to do something which would make me happy."
"My being on top makes you happy?" Angel asked.
"Any form of being with you makes me happy, my Lord," Wesley said. "But what would make me happier still is if you were well. If I am being granted a favor, I'd like you to fix your leg. Every moment I see you in pain is a misery to me."
"It's no big - " Angel started to say, then he saw the look on Wesley's face. "You've been that worried about me?"
"Every moment, my Lord," Wesley said.
Angel looked long and hard into Wesley's eyes. Then, apparently deciding he'd found what he was searching for, he nodded. "Okay. You got it. For you I'll move up the schedule. I'll fix the leg."
Wesley let out a breath of air. "Thank you, my Lord."
"Whatever makes you happy," Angel said. He pressed a kiss to Wesley's cheek, then another to his mouth.
"You're very generous to me, my Lord," Wesley said.
"You say that now," Angel said, "but one day I'm going to teach you how to ask for actual gifts."
"I can't imagine wanting any," Wesley said.
"Yeah," Angel gave a wry grimace. "That'd be my point."
***
