RockStarPeach

angelstoy

Part 11

It turned out that the things that needed doing at Spike’s place were some vodka that needed drinking and an animated gorilla with a penchant for throwing barrels that needed his arse kicked.

He heard the piteous electronic chime of his character being hit in the head with one of those barrels, and tossed the controller aside to grab the bottle from the table by the neck and take a long swig.

So he was wallowing.  So what?  He was allowed to.  This morning he’d ended things with Xander for good, and this afternoon he found out, to a fairly high degree of certainty, that Wesley wasn’t ever going to be his.  Though what Wes was ever doing with him in the first place was a complete mystery, since he and Lindsey were so obviously into each other.

And so what if Xander had forgot his t-shirt when he’d left this morning, and Spike had spent most of the afternoon since he’d gotten home with that shirt balled up in his lap just so he could keep it close, feel it, smell it?  It helped.

He sat for a while, bottle in his hand, watching the animated ‘Game Over’ scroll across the screen and trying not to think about what a shitty day he was having, and failing miserably.  He must have been sitting there for longer than he thought, because at some point he heard a knock at the door, and when he got up to answer it, placing the bottle on the side table and tossing Xander’s t-shirt down on the floor next to the couch, he glanced at the clock and realised it was after 8:30.

He opened the door, not at all really wanting to, and was a little bit surprised to find Wesley standing on the other side of it, wide grin on his face, with a video in one hand a bag of Chinese in the other.

He gave him on odd look, but stepped aside to allow him entry and Wesley cheerfully made his way inside, kissed Spike on the cheek and set about preparing for the evening.  He placed the bag of food down on the coffee table and took the disc out of the plastic, sliding it into the player, and once he’d found the remote sat down on the couch and patted the seat beside him, looking for Spike to join him.

Spike was confused.  He honestly hadn’t expected Wes would show up tonight, after all that had gone on at Lindsey’s wrestling match, but now that he thought about it he supposed they hadn’t changed their plans, and as far as Wesley knew, everything was just as it had been that morning. 

He went to sit next to Wesley on the couch, and accepted the little paper box full of beef chow mien and set of cheap wooden chopsticks that Wesley handed to him, and watched, still a bit mystified by the normalcy of all of this as Wesley picked up his own box of something and hit play.

“Terminator,” Wesley told him, taking a bite of his noodles.  “I’m sure you’ve seen it; everybody has, but it’s a classic, isn’t it?  Violence, course language and Arnold Schwarzenegger’s bare arse.  Three very good things.”

When he got no response, Wesley paused in his next bite, happy expression falling as he glanced at Spike, a little curious at his continued silence since he’d gotten there.  “You don’t like the movie?  Or is it the food?  Should I have gotten chicken?”

Spike couldn’t help a smile at Wesley’s eagerness to please, but it was short lived and he bent forward to place his untouched carton of food down next to the still half-full bag on the table in front of them. 

“Wesley,” he started, seriously, and Wesley set his own food down on his lap and looked at Spike.  “What are you doing here?”  His tone wasn’t exasperated or baffled or snippy, just honestly curious, and Wesley had to really think back to their earlier conversation to make sure he had heard their plans right.

“We had a date.  Didn’t we?”  Wesley felt like he was missing something.

“We did, yeah, but…” Spike didn’t really know how to continue.  Didn’t know how to tell Wesley that he knew how he felt about his roommate, and knew that this thing between them wasn’t really a thing at all, because, God, if Wesley hadn’t even caught on yet, it was going to be one hell of a conversation. 

“I thought you’d be out with Lindsey,” he admitted, and Wesley looked at him, brows drawn in serious thought.

“Why on earth would you think that?” he asked. 

Spike was sorely tempted to say any number of hurtful things, make harsh comments about his attraction to Lindsey and crude innuendo about their ‘celebration’ of his victory, but Wesley seemed so completely innocent, so completely unaware that he couldn’t just forget about whatever it was that was going on between he and Lindsey and continue the relationship with Spike like there was no problem at all, and Spike just didn’t want to be that much of an arse.

Maybe he did a little, but he wouldn’t, because even if Wesley was breaking his heart just a little more than it already had been that day, he didn’t deserve for Spike to act like that.  It wasn’t like he was doing it on purpose.

Spike took Wesley’s dinner from his lap, and his chopsticks from where they were currently sticking up from between Wesley’s fingers, and placed the lot on the table next to his own forgotten meal.

“Wesley,” he said gently, not touching the other man, but making sure to keep eye contact, trying to ignore the explosions happening on his television screen as people zapped in and out of time and guns were shot at others.  “Where do you think this is going?  Us, I mean?”

Wesley had no idea what Spike was talking about.  No idea why he would be asking this now, when things had only just started between them.  It was much too soon to be thinking about anything really serious, and much too soon to be thinking about breaking up.  And why the hell did Spike think he would have gone out with Lindsey tonight?

“I, I hadn’t thought…” he couldn’t quite get out what he wanted to say at first, because really, he hadn’t thought.  Only knew that he liked Spike, and wanted to be with him.  Probably best to say that then.

“I like you, Spike.  Being with you is like being with nobody else I’ve known.  You give me something nobody else can, and all I know is that I want more of it.  Want more of you.  Beyond that, I think we should just see what happens.”

Spike nodded, happy that at least Wesley did see something in him, did like him a bit, even if the passion he felt was nowhere near what it was for that southern ass-wipe Wesley couldn’t seem to get over.  But he hadn’t missed Wesley saying that Spike could give him something else nobody else could, and wondered exactly what it was that Lindsey wasn’t giving him.

“I would love nothing more than that, Wes,” he said, and Wesley smiled at him, hopeful and honest and it was almost more than Spike could take.  “But… It’s not going to happen.”

Wes frowned.  This was starting to get annoying, this not understanding anything that Spike was saying to him.  Spike couldn’t be trying to break up with him, could he?  No, he’d already dismissed that, so what the hell was he talking about?

“What the hell are you talking about?” he asked, a bit of anger mixing with his confusion and the slight feeling of dread that accompanied the idea that Spike was dumping him.

“Wes, I’m not bloody slow!” Spike told him, voice raised in irritation that he really did have to spell it all out for the other man.  “This… whatever the hell it is… between you and Lindsey – it’s far from over.”

“No,” Wesley told him, firmly.  “No, you’re wrong.  It’s over.  Very much over.”  At Spike’s disbelieving look he added “Yes, there were some… feelings… some activities… but he’s made it very clear that he’s not interested in anything beyond the physical, and I’m not willing to settle for that.”

He observed Spike’s blank expression for only a moment before he realised that what he’d just admitted to might not have been the wisest course of action.  He didn’t want Spike to feel like he was in the picture because Wesley couldn’t have what he really wanted.

“But it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, because I met you.  And I… I…” Wesley again didn’t quite know how to say what he wanted to say.  “I fell for you,” he offered with a half smile and a tilt of his head.  “Hard.  You can give me what I want, and I want you.”

Spike closed his eyes and resisted the urge to lean forward and kiss Wesley, to rip his shirt off and open his pants, and touch him, relentlessly, fingers moving over his bare skin as he flipped him over and fucked him, hard so he’d never forget, and claim him forever.

But he knew he couldn’t.  Because Wesley was lying.  Even if he thought he was telling the truth, Spike knew better.

“No, no I can’t, Wes.  Can’t give you what you want.”

“Yes,” Wesley countered.  “You can.  You do.”

“No,” Spike told him again, taking his hand to try to make this easier, on Wes, on himself, he didn’t know, but it was almost killing him.  “I’ve seen how you two look at each other, and lord, Wes, you’re not subtle.  He’s what you want.  I didn’t see it at first,” Spike admitted, low and sad and holding Wesley’s hand tighter, “I didn’t want to.  But I can’t deny it anymore.  And neither should you.”

“No, Spike!” Wesley countered, ripping his hand back and straightening up on the couch. 

“Yes, Wesley.” This was such a similar position to what Spike had been in with Xander only hours before that it got to him, made him weaker than he would have liked, but didn’t destroy him.  Stupid son of a bitch that he was, he was trying to do the right thing.  Both times.

“No!  Even if I did want him, which I don’t, he doesn’t want me.  He’s made that abundantly clear.”

Spike shook his head sadly and took Wesley’s hand back without any protest at all.  “That’s not true, love.  I know you’re a smart one, but how could you possibly be so dense as not to notice how he feels?”

“Fine, so he does wants me,” Wesley agreed.  “And I know it’s only for sex.  I want more.  You’re more.  I want you.”  How could Spike not see that?  The math was fairly simple.

“Oh, Wes,” Spike was almost crying as he pulled Wesley in closer, rubbing his cheek against Wesley’s and felt the twinge of Wesley’s cheek muscles pulling to prevent him from crying as well.  “I know you want me.  I’m not thinking for a second that you don’t want me.”

“Well, that’s good,” Wesley offered with a crooked grin.  “So what’s the problem?”

“The problem,” Spike tried to focus as he pulled back from Wes, “Is that while I know you want me, you want him more.  Feel for him more.  And he feels the same.”

Wesley opened his mouth to tell Spike again that he was wrong, but Spike beat him to speaking.  “Yes, he does.  You may think It’s nothing but physical for him, you may think that I’m the one you want and he’s just getting in the way, but I’ve seen the jealousy in his eyes when I’m with you, and the way his eyes get soft and he sort of smiles when he looks at you and thinks nobody is watching.  And you look at him the same way.”

Spike did have to reach his free hand up then, to wipe away a stray tear, but he was determined to let no more than one fall.  “I can’t compare with that, Wes, and I’m not going to try.  I’m the one who’s getting in the way.”

Wesley grabbed at Spike’s hands, arms, anything he could reach just to secure a contact with the person he was desperately hoping was his boyfriend.  “Yes.  Yes, Spike, you’re right.  About all of that.  But not anymore.  We’ve talked.  It’s over.  We both know it, we’re okay with it.  And now I want you.  Please.  Please don’t give up on us.”

“Baby,” Spike told him with a dip of his head, “I very much wish I could believe that.”

“Then do!”

“How long have we been seeing each other?” Spike asked, abruptly changing the pace of the conversation.

“Um,” Wesley answered, shaking his head a little to clear out any unwanted thoughts, and tried to focus on Spike.  “Almost two weeks now.” 

“And how long have you been seeing Lindsey?”  Spike didn’t think that it was a fair question, but it would give him the information he needed to see this through.

Wesley frowned in concentration, trying to suss out how long it’d been.  “About, uh…”  And then he realised his mistake.  All he had ever been doing with Lindsey was fucking, and he still wasn’t comfortable telling Spike about it.  He couldn’t possibly be right, could he?

“I’m not seeing him,” he said, trying to protest all his behaviour of the past week.

“Right,” Spike agreed, not at all giving the impression that he believed it.  “So, when was the last time that you two… didn’t see each other?”

Wesley knew it was pointless to try to deny anything, to make anything up, because Spike could quite obviously see through absolutely everything that Wesley said.  It was spooky.  “You don’t actually want to know the answer to that, do you?”

“No,” Spike said with a self-deprecating smile.  He really didn’t want to hear it; he already knew.  He was just making a point.  “No, I suppose I don’t.  Doesn’t matter anyway.”

“Right.  It doesn’t matter, because that’s all over and done with.  I swear to you, Spike, I’m all yours now.”

“I need to be with someone who wants me.  And you need to be with someone you truly want to be with.” 

Wesley’s eyes darkened and he lunged at Spike, pushing him hard against the back of the couch, fingers digging in his shoulders as he stared into his eyes, fear and aggression and lust playing equally over his features, and pressed their lips together.

He didn’t part his lips, and neither did Spike.  He just pressed, brutal and dominating and commanding acquiescence, until Spike stopped any token resistance he had offered, and slumped back and down and his lips went soft, completely unresponsive.

Wesley took that opportunity to climb on top of the blond, legs on either side of his, one knee slipping between the couch cushions, and grabbed him, hands on either side of his head, and his look softened a little at the complete misery he saw in Spike’s face

What the hell was Wesley doing to him?  Stopping this thing now, preventing anyone from getting even more hurt than they already were, was for the best.  Spike knew that.  How could Wesley not see it?  He probably did; was just too scared to admit it.  But damn, this was just gonna make it worse.

“Does this feel like I don’t want you?” he asked, as he kissed Spike again, gently this time, soft and slow, and Spike opened his mouth after a minute or so, coaxed by Wesley’s tongue teasing lightly over his lips.

When Spike was finally responding to the kiss, albeit not as enthusiastically as Wesley would have like, Wesley pulled back enough to whisper, “Does this?” before he pushed his hips forward and rubbed his incredibly hard cock against Spike’s soft one, letting him know just exactly how much Spike was turning him on.

“God, Spike, the things you do to me.  The things you make me feel,” Wesley said, closing his eyes and thrusting their fully clothed bodies against each other, over and over.  “Nobody.  Nobody ever…”  He trailed off and shuddered as he felt Spike start to harden underneath him, two layers of denim separating the evidence of their mutual arousal.

“I’m trying to do the right thing here, Wes,” Spike said as he grudgingly pulled back from Wesley’s incredible assault.  He gave a half-arsed push on Wesley’s arms, not able to pretend that he actually intended the other man to go anywhere.  “But you’re not really helping.”

“Not trying to help with that,” Wesley answered, lips and tongue going straight to work on the neck that Spike had left available when he’d taken his lips away.  “Trying to help us both out with something else just now.”

And God, was he ever.  Spike was rock hard now, and couldn’t get enough of the feel of Wesley’s wet mouth on his skin and his solid erection against his own through the fabric of their pants, and he groaned once in feeble protest at his own imminent actions before he wrapped his arms around Wesley’s waist and used them to help the other man in his back and forth motions, making sure all the appropriately sinful contact was made with each thrust.

Wesley knew the seduction would have been more effective if he’d taken the time to undress, to go slowly and show Spike just how much he meant to him, to tease and temp and finally give himself over to Spike with his body this time, just like he had with his heart over the past weeks, but Spike saying that he was leaving him messed with his head, with his senses, made him want things immediately, left no room for patience or common sense. 

And besides, this felt so damned good.  He idly thought about reaching down to unfasten his pants, Spikes, but ultimately didn’t want to give up on the contact between them for as long as it would take to do that, so he only grabbed Spike’s head harder, kissed him again, long and heavy, and continued to push their throbbing pricks together, fast and insistent.

“Shit, Spike,” Wesley mumbled as he felt himself growing close to climax.  It had been years since he’d cum in his pants, dry-humping someone on the sofa, and it was slightly embarrassing that he was about to go there again.  “Oh, God, I’m going to… Fuck!”

Spike had absolutely no qualms about getting his pants a little dirty, but he was still so torn between happiness at this time with Wesley and a feeling of loss, at knowing it was going to be the last time, because no matter what Wes said, Spike knew he was right.

He squeezed his hands around the soft cheeks of Wesley’s arse even tighter as he felt the stutters and quivers in the other man’s movement and breathing and pushed his own groin up, hard and fast.  When he heard Wes cry out, felt him push against him in long, solid jerks, he didn’t hold himself back any longer.

“Wes!” he cried out, shooting jets of sperm out against soft cotton as he bit into Wesley’s shoulder, probably leaving a mark.  After his dick had spewed out everything it had, Spike leaned his head forward against Wesley’s neck, waiting for the power to move his limbs, so that he could extricate himself from his current position.

Wesley rested his cheek down on Spike’s head, taking a moment to breathe, to collect himself, and when he was able to pull back, Spike’s head moving up underneath his, they both looked down between them, eyes focussing on the wet patches on both of their crotches, and laughed.

It started in Spike, little jerks up and down, head shaking, fingers spasming around Wesley’s middle, and soon Wesley had caught on, giggling like a mad man, chest fluttering and head resting as well as it could on Spike’s forehead.  They looked back up at each other after a beat, not quite losing their humour, but putting it on pause for a moment as they looked into each other’s eyes, and the smiles left their faces.

“You’re right, aren’t you?” Wesley asked, not wanting an answer, but knowing he had to ask the question.  He wanted Spike to be wrong, wanted Lindsey to fuck off and leave them alone, but knew it was impossible.  He wanted Lindsey, in a deep and serious way, and we wanted Lindsey to want him in that same way.  And sure, if that wasn’t possible he’d settle for Spike, but that wasn’t fair to anyone.

Spike saw that, and he was trying to make things better for everyone and Wes was only being as much of an arse to Spike as he had been to Lindsey by trying to tell him he was wrong.

“Yeah, Wes,” Spike answered, even though he knew that Wes didn’t want to hear it.  “I’m right.”  He didn’t want to admit it any more than he knew Wes wanted him to, but it was the truth. 

“I am so goddamned stupid, aren’t I?” Wes asked slowly, but he didn’t bother to lift his head off of Spike’s, or get up off his lap.

“Wes,” Spike sighed and tightened his grip.  “You’re the farthest thing from stupid.  You’re brilliant, and romantic, and sweet and honest… as far as you know how, and it has been my absolute honour to know as much as I’ve been able.”

That sounded suspiciously like a final goodbye, and Wesley couldn’t help the panic that rose in his chest, even knowing that things needed to end with Spike.  “What are you saying?  You… I understand if you… you know… well, if we can’t… you know…”  Somebody should really just shoot him.  “If we can’t be boyfriends.”  There, he’d gotten it out.

“But it’s not like we’ll never see each other again… Is it?”

For a little while Spike had actually thought that it was exactly like that.  How could he be expected to have any sort of platonic relationship with someone who made him feel like Wes did?  He couldn’t!  And he shouldn’t have to.  And he was completely ready to let Wesley know just exactly what he could do with his request for a friendship, if that’s what that jack-ass statement was, when he looked into his eyes.

All the hurt and uncertainty and pleading took Spike by surprise.  It shouldn’t have, really.  Wes was having a hard time admitting things, and Spike should have been more sensitive to that, be he had mostly been concerned with protecting his own feelings. 

But now he was overcome with the need to ease any and all hurt that Wesley was feeling, and he was fighting a losing battle with the urge to never see the other man again.  As easy as it would be to just make a clean break and go their separate ways, it would be just as hard.

Wes was in him.  In his mind and his body and he’d hurt if Wes all of a sudden wasn’t there anymore.  It was sort of pissing him off, feeling like this.  It wasn’t as if he’d known Wesley for very long, and he still ached for Xander in his bones, but letting this silly little man slip through his fingers completely would almost be a bizarre form of torture.

Event though Wesley was slightly bigger than him, Spike possessed superior strength, and he used that strength to lift Wesley up off of his lap, like he should have done in the first place, and place him on the couch next to him, where he’d been sitting when this whole bizarre thirteen-year-old version of fucking began.

“No, Wes, it isn’t,” he answered, not for the life of him able to tell Wesley definitively to fuck off.  He still held his hand and he leaned in to kiss his neck but pulled back quickly, not wanting to give the wrong impression.  “We both know the score, and… we’re good.  Why don’t you stay and watch the rest of the movie with me?”

And why the fuck was he asking Wesley to watch a movie with him?  Yeah, it would suck to lose him, but wouldn’t it suck even more for him to be there, just out of reach?  Before Spike could honestly answer that question for himself Wesley spoke.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?”

Hey, he was even smarter than Spike had thought.  “No, I don’t, really.  And I don’t think we’re exactly gonna end up best mates after all this shit’s gone down.  But… yeah… stay.”

***

Somewhere around the fourth bar and the third girl he’d danced with it hit Lindsey that he wasn’t having a good time.  He was happy about his win, he was glad to be out with the guys and he had a pretty good buzz going, but he missed Wes.  He felt like shit about how they had left things earlier, and he really should have stopped him before he walked out the door and told that he was wrong, and wasn’t just convenient for Lindsey.

Hell, the last damn thing his relationship with Wesley was, was convenient, but that didn’t stop him from wanting the other man.  He needed to tell him, set him straight about how he felt, and then it would be up to Wes whether or not he’d do anything about it.  But until they had that conversation he wasn’t going to be able to think about anything else.

After accepting a phone number that he had no intention of using from a very pretty girl, he told Angel he wasn’t feeling well and went home early.

***

It had been awkward.  Awkward sitting next to each other but not touching, sharing half-arsed laughs at the funny bits of the movie.  Awkward sitting with drying puddles of sperm in their laps, neither in a big hurry to get cleaned up because it was serving as a reminder of what they weren’t going to be able to have anymore.  Awkward not being able to kiss Spike goodbye, and instead of a promise to call him all he’d received from Spike was a tight smile and a vague, “See you later,” when he’d left.

But perhaps the most awkward part of the evening was when he had gotten up to use the bathroom and he’d spotted a t-shirt sitting on the floor, ridiculous Hawaiian print all over it and he had a feeling that Spike would never be caught dead in something like it.  He’d looked at Spike with a raised eyebrow and Spike had only mumbled that it belonged to a friend, and when Wesley got back from the washroom the shirt was gone.

Wesley wasn’t entirely sure what it meant, but he had a feeling.

And now he was on his way home, taking the long way through the campus to get some fresh air and try to clear his head before he had to face Lindsey again.  Not that his roommate would be home this early – it was still an hour before the bars shut down and they’d probably go Angel’s place afterwards anyway – but he was enjoying the walk.

He was about half way home when he heard some muffled groans coming from one particularly dark alleyway between two buildings.  He peeked around the corner, wondering if anybody was in trouble, but smiled to himself when he saw two bodies pressed up against each other, against the wall, faces pressed together and hands roaming.  No, that definitely didn’t look like anyone was in trouble.

He should have just kept walking, but he couldn’t help but stare for a moment longer when he realised they were two male bodies, and his amusement turned sharply into arousal.  He couldn’t explain why that would turn him on more than watching a male and a female making out, because despite his recent appreciation for the male form he was still very much into girls as well, but it did turn him on more.

When he took a small step closer to the couple, so that he had a better view when the one that wasn’t backed against the wall unfastened his pants and took his prick out, then did the same to the other man, he realised that one of them looked familiar. 

Yes, the man who was pushing his erection up against the other’s, hand wrapped around them both as they bucked and moaned and kissed, was Doyle’s boyfriend.  What was his name?

“Lorne!” the other man shouted out, Wesley assumed as he came.  Yes, Lorne.  That was it.  And the other man was most certainly not Doyle.  Wesley tore his eyes away from the sight of the two men breathing hard and still kissing in the moments after orgasm, and continued his walk home.

Looked as if Lorne and Doyle had split.  Either that, or Lorne had a little something going on the side.  There seemed to be a lot of that going around.

***

When Wesley got home he was surprised to find Lindsey in their room, lying on his bed, tossing a baseball up and down and otherwise staring blankly at the ceiling.

“What are you doing here?” Wesley asked, shutting the door behind him and taking off his shoes and coat.  He held the coat over his crotch, because while his cum had dried up by now, there was still a mark and for some reason he didn’t want Lindsey to see it.

“Came home early,” he said, catching the ball in his right hand and tossing it down on the floor.  “What are you doing here?  Thought you’d be staying at Spike’s place again.”  Wesley had only stayed there once, and Lindsey really didn’t have any reason to think he would have been that night, but he felt like he needed to mention it.

“Yes, well,” Wesley said turning away from Lindsey and putting his jacket down on his chair.  He didn’t say anything as he quickly stripped out of his clothes and pulled on a pair of pyjama bottoms, but once that was done he turned back to Lindsey and said, “I came home early, too.”

“Why?” Lindsey asked, sitting up on his bed.  “Trouble in paradise?”  He wasn’t trying to be mean, but he couldn’t help but be hopeful that it was the case.

Wesley took a deep breath and answered him.  “Yes, actually.  We broke up.”  It sounded even worse out loud than it did in his mind. 

Lindsey was shocked.  He hadn’t actually expected that, but it might make the conversation he planned to have with Wesley easier.  “Why?” he asked.  He couldn’t believe that Wes would have ended it; not without knowing how Lindsey felt about him, so something else must have been going on.

Wesley looked at Lindsey, mouth dropping open at the question and answered, “I don’t actually have to tell you the answer to that, do I?”

Ah.  So, it did have something to do with Lindsey.  “I’m sorry,” he offered lamely and twisted around to let his legs hang over the side of bed, feet resting on the floor.

“Sorry about what, Lindsey?  Sorry that you couldn’t keep your hands off of my dick long enough to worry about any of the consequences?  Or sorry that I’ve had my heart broken a tiny bit by someone that I was beginning to fall in love with?”

Lindsey didn’t really know what to say to that.  Wesley loved Spike?  If he’d known that, he might have done some things differently.

Wesley sighed and rubbed a hand over his face in frustration.  He was overreacting and he needed to calm himself down.  This was not Lindsey’s fault.  Not entirely Lindsey’s fault.  “I apologise,” he told him.  “That was completely out of line.  I’m a bit… emotional, right now and I’m not thinking before I speak.”

That might work better for Lindsey.  He’d be able to get some honest responses out of Wesley.  “It’s okay.  I get it.”  He knew he was partly to blame for everything.  “I’m just… sorry, you know.  For you.  That it’s over.”

“Are you?” Wesley asked him, looking directly into his eyes, and his tone seemed to imply so much more than just the expectation of an answer to a simple question.

Wesley was looking for honesty, and Lindsey recognised that he was giving him a chance, for once, to be completely straightforward about his feelings, and for once not to be a sarcastic little shit in the face of any kind of real emotion.  He took it.

“I’m sorry that you got hurt,” he said, standing up and closing the distance between he and Wesley so that they were standing only inches apart at the foot of Wesley’s bed.  “But I’m not sorry it’s over.”

He reached a hand up, slowly, not wanting to startle Wesley and unsure of his mood or his reaction to any touches from Lindsey.  When Wesley did nothing but blink at him, eyes darting quickly to the hand coming toward him and then back to Lindsey’s, Lindsey placed his fingers on the back of Wesley’s neck and used his thumb to tilt Wesley’s chin toward him.

Wesley waited patiently, making no move to avoid Lindsey’s advances or any to encourage them.  He wanted this, but he wanted to leave it up to Lindsey, what happened and what didn’t, because even though neither had said it, they both knew something was different now and he needed to make sure that Lindsey wanted it that way.

As it turned out, Lindsey very much wanted it that way, and he was perfectly willing to take the lead, to show Wesley how he felt with his actions, tell him with words.  He slowly inched closer to Wes, face looming in front of the other man’s, and they both had a good long while to think about whether or not they really wanted to do this before  Lindsey’s lips were pressing down softly on Wesley’s.

The kiss wasn’t hesitant, but it did start out slow.  They spent a pretty significant length of time just working their lips against each other’s, mouths mostly closed as they alternated levels of pressure and Lindsey’s fingers worked through Wesley’s hair at the back. 

They spent longer than ever before on this innocent exploration, but as it went on it naturally progressed and by the time Wesley had worked his hands up underneath Lindsey’s shirt at the back, and opened his mouth to allow Lindsey’s tongue in to glide over his teeth, it had turned decidedly passionate.

Lindsey wasn’t at all surprised to realise that he was hard and when he pushed his whole body flush up against Wesley’s he discovered the other man was too.  He pushed up against him lazily, wanting to take his time, not rush things but unable to hold back completely.

They continued to writhe against each other as the kiss broke off temporarily so they could both take a breath, and Lindsey panted into Wesley’s ear, “No.  I’m not sorry at all that it’s over.”

He grabbed Wesley by the hips and pulled, hard, to slam their erections together and took Wesley’s mouth in a quick, demanding kiss.  “It’s damn near fuckin’ killed me this past week every time I thought of the two of you together.”

Their mouths met in the middle as they both lunged forward, lips smashing together and teeth clashing and limbs tangled in a confused, sexy jumble as they made their way to Wesley’s bed, falling down and tearing off each other’s clothes as they went.

Once they were there it was slow and lazy and as sweet as it could have been as Lindsey took his time to worship Wesley’s body like he hadn’t before.  Not a single molecule of skin went untouched with lips and tongue and fingers and by the time Lindsey was riding Wesley’s cock, one hand on Wesley’s stomach to brace himself, the other stripping his own slippery prick, they were both well and truly beyond coherence.

Their orgasms had started building with their first kiss and by the time they reached fruition the feelings were so intense that Wesley thought his heart would stop and Lindsey very nearly blacked out.

He fell forward on to Wesley, eyes closed and breath ragged, and smiled as he felt the deep rise and fall of the other man’s chest as he too took his time recovering from having his mind pretty decently blown.

“Fuck, Wes.  That was…” Lindsey trailed off, not really having any words for what that was, and too content and sated to worry about talking anyway.

Wesley only wrapped his arms around Lindsey, letting them rest loosely around his back and groaned as he moved slightly, dislodging Wesley’s spent dick from his hole.  Oh yes, he thought, it sure was.

Spike had been right, Wesley thought sometime later, after Lindsey had slipped off of him and flopped down on the bed and they lay there, legs entangled and fingers playing lightly over each other’s skin.  Lindsey couldn’t possibly have been faking all the emotion that had gone into their coupling tonight, but if that was the case why hadn’t he said anything about it before now?  And why hadn’t Wesley picked up on it before?

He didn’t really want to think that he had known all along, because he didn’t want to have to think what that said about him.  That he had used Spike to get to Lindsey wasn’t something he wanted to be true, but he couldn’t help feeling like it was, just a bit.  At first, anyway.  But he really had fallen for Spike, and it really did hurt to know that whatever they had shared was over.

“So,” he said to Lindsey, pushing a stray lock of hair out of the other man’s eyes.  “Was this still just sex?”  That’s what Lindsey had claimed it was after their second time together, and hadn’t told Wesley any different since then, but now he was giving him the chance to say what he really thought, hoped he’d take it.

Lindsey looked up at Wesley, head shifting slightly from where it was resting on Wesley’s shoulder and smiled.  “It never was.  Just took me a while to realise it.”

Wesley held his eyes for a few seconds until Lindsey blinked and looked back down at Wesley’s naked chest.  “I want you, Wes.  I want to be with you.  I… I like you.”  Oh my God.  What was he, twelve?  But at least he’d said it, at least now Wes knew.

Wesley was still silent and Lindsey took one of his hands in his own, twining their fingers together and resting them over Wesley’s stomach.  “How come I didn’t notice before?” he mused.  “You’re the smart one, how come you didn’t?”

Wesley finally spoke, stroking this thumb over the heel of Lindsey’s hand.  “There was probably a part of me that did.  But I wanted you to say something.  Wanted you to admit it, and…” he sighed and closed his eyes, not wanting to admit to the next bit, but knew that he really should in the spirit of honesty.  Besides, it wasn’t as if Lindsey hadn’t figured it out.  He accused him of this very thing just last night.

“I suppose I got a… perverse sort of satisfaction out of making you jealous.  Trying to anyway, but you never let on that it was working.  And it only made me want to try harder.”

Oh, it had been working, all right.  “If I had, would you have still been with Spike?”

“I’ll be honest,” Wesley answered, idly rubbing his big toe against the arch of Lindsey’s foot, wanting to keep up the comforting, intimate contact as an undercurrent to their conversation.  “I really started to like him.  A lot.  The fact that you were so unwilling to admit to any actual feelings for me served to push me into his arms in the first place, and if he hadn’t ended things, I’d be with him right now, but you’re the one I wanted.”

Lindsey was silent for a moment as he pondered that admission.  “Am I still?” he asked quietly and pressed his lips gently to Wesley’s chest, just above his left nipple.

Wesley picked up their joined hands and put them down on Lindsey’s hip, stroking back and forth and giving the other man light kiss on his forehead.  “What do you think?”

Lindsey freed his hand from Wesley’s loose grasp, propped his head up on his other arm, and looked straight at Wesley.  “I think I’d like a straightforward answer.  I think we both would.”

Wesley looked back at him and scooted up the bed so that he was propped up against the headboard.  He grabbed at the sheet that had been kicked away during the earlier sex, feeling unreasonably bared now that they weren’t snuggled up to each other.  “We do.  So let’s be completely honest.”

Lindsey scooted back several centimetres to put some more distance between them, worried about Wesley’s response.

“Yes, Lindsey,” he said, hands working at the corner of the bedsheet nervously.  It was silly, he knew.  Lindsey had already admitted that he felt the same way, but…  “You’re still the one I want.  My feelings for Spike haven’t disappeared, but that was never the same as this, no matter how much I tried to pretend.”

He let the soft cotton fall from between his fingers and looked at Lindsey.  “I’m not going to lie and say that it was all about you, but I couldn’t deny what I felt for you, even if I had wanted to.  I want us to be together.  And… there we are.”

“I want that too,” Lindsey said and then ducked his head down again and rested it on Wesley’s chest, letting the slow rise and fall lull him for a while. 

It wasn’t until Wesley started to relax against him, turned his chin up to capture his lips in a beautiful kiss and ran his fingers across Lindsey’s shoulder and neck and his thick, soft hair that Lindsey had to go and ruin the moment.

“But,” he said, pulling back from Wesley’s touches, sitting up on the bed next to him.  “I’m not ready to go announcing this to the world.”

Wesley sat up straighter too, sheet pooling around his waist and one leg dropped over the edge of the bed, ball of his foot almost bouncing on the floor in disbelief and agitation.  “I won’t be your dirty little secret, Lindsey.  If we’re going to do this, I want us to be open about it.”

Lindsey knew that was a reasonable demand, but he was hoping that Wes would give him some time, wait it out until he was ready.  “Look, Wes,” he said.  “It may have been easy for you to adjust to the fact that you like dick, but I’m not havin’ such and easy time.  My friends won’t… I don’t know how to tell them, to say it.  It’s hard thinking about what people will say when they see us together, you know?”

“I understand that, Lindsey, and I accept it.  But until you’re ready to be honest about us, we can’t do this anymore.”

Lindsey reached a hand out then, placing it on Wesley’s arm, not grabbing, not demanding, just a reminder that he didn’t want to let go.  “Wes, please.  I want this to work, I just need some time.  Need some help.  I don’t want to do this alone.”

Wesley closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again and offering Lindsey a half smile.  “Take all the time you need, Lindsey.  And you won’t be alone.  I’ll be here for you, as your friend, but until you’re willing to acknowledge what we have to anyone outside of this room, all the rest has to stop.”

Lindsey couldn’t really argue with that, figured it was probably what was best for both of them, but he couldn’t help the part of him that wanted to demand that Wesley and he continue to fuck every night in the privacy of their room, even as they acted like nothing but roommates and grudging friends the rest of the time.

He hadn’t taken his hand off of Wesley, and started to gently move his fingers across Wesley’s warm flesh.  “Fuck, babe, that’s gonna he hard.  I want you so fucking bad.”

“How bad?” Wesley asked, and Lindsey knew that he shouldn’t bother anymore.  Not until he was willing to make some pretty monumental declarations. 

He sighed and moved his hand up to Wesley’s face, palm cupping his cheek and asked, “Will you wait?  Until I’m ready for this?”

“I can’t promise that,” Wesley answered honestly, and cursed himself for being an insensitive prick as Lindsey’s face fell.  “But we can work at it.  This… relationship of ours.  Together.  We can take it slow and see what happens.”

Again, that was a pretty good offer.  Lindsey had someone to be there for him, had Wes to be there for him, and had the potential for more when he finally got comfortable with being a fag in front of the world.  The only thing he had to worry about was Wes finding someone else before Lindsey got to that point.  Or Spike popping up again.

“Yeah, okay,” Lindsey agreed.  He looked over at his own lonely looking bed, and then back to Wesley.  “Can I… sleep here tonight?  Just for the night.  We’ll start taking things slow tomorrow.”

Wesley couldn’t help thinking that was an incredibly bad idea, but that didn’t stop him from agreeing.  Lindsey needed it and so did he.  “Yes, well.  There’s no need to decelerate too quickly.  Somebody could get hurt, after all.”

They snuggled down into each other on the small bed, wrapped tight in strong arms and breathing in the musky scent of sweat and sex, and drifted off, the feeling of uncertainty looming large above them.  But they could deal with that in the morning.

***