rockstarpeach: (Default)
rockstarpeach ([personal profile] rockstarpeach) wrote2008-07-03 01:00 pm

Ficlet: Not Like This (Wes/Angel)


Yay!  Wesley is (sort of) an asshole.  Well, okay, he's just pissed, and he takes it out on Angel.  That's fun, right? :)

Title:  Not Like This

Rating:  Adult, kind of dark

Pairing:  Wes/Angel

Summary:  Wesley and Angel have a talk, man to man, with Angel locked in a cage and Wesley tries to work through some of his issues.  Goes AU at the end of Orpheus.  I’ve taken some lines from Soulless, but changed the wording a little.

 

Not Like This

 

Angel was cold.  Colder than he normally was, and he figured that was probably in large part due to the cold slab of concrete that he was lying on.  It was uncomfortable and his head hurt too much to open his eyes yet, but it was a significant improvement on how he had felt a


couple of minutes ago, fighting Angelus in some bizzaro this-is-your-life dream brought on by Wesley’s fucked up demon narcotic.

 

The last thing he remembered was Faith vanishing, and fuck, Angel cringed against the all-over pain and groaned as he tried to sit up but failed, falling back and cracking his head against the hard floor, and fuck he hoped Faith’s disappearance from the shared vision meant that she and woken up, and not… fuck.

 

He managed to roll over onto his side just as he heard the soft snick and echo of what must have been the basement door opening and closing (and great, they must have locked him up in that damn cage again), followed by steady footfalls and a rapid staccato heartbeat.  A small scent on the stale air of the Hyperion basement, the muted smells of musk and anger and days old scotch that could only belong to Wesley.

 

God, what could he say to him right now?  What could he say to anyone?  The things he’d done, the things he’s said without his soul, the way he’d taunted them, exploited their weaknesses in front of everyone, behaved exactly as Angelus always had – and he’d enjoyed every sadistic second of it.  Oh, fuck.  Wesley probably thought he killed Lilah.  Not that he wouldn’t have.

 

What the fuck could he say? He wondered again as the footfalls got closer and he managed to pry his eyes open a crack to look up at Wesley, standing calmly just outside the red painted line that made them feel safe with a monster on the other side of the bars, crossbow held loosely at his side.

 

“What happened?” he settled on, the words coming out dry and quiet and almost choking him.

 

“We drugged you,” Wesley needlessly answered, voice devoid of emotion that would be detectable to any human, but Wesley knew that Angel could hear the strain, the agony, the desire to open the cage and pull Angel to him, feel his champion in his arms, forgive and be forgiven, just before he plunged a stake into the bastard’s heart.

 

“You were upstairs, where we could monitor you as you fought the effects of the Orpheus, but we moved you down here after Faith woke up and stopped Conner from killing you.  She was fairly certain that the soul was firmly in residence, but I’m sure you’ll understand that I thought it prudent to take extra precautions.  It wouldn’t be the first time you had us fooled.”

 

Wesley had a point; he could very well still be Angelus, although he wasn’t, and from their point of view they needed to be careful just in case he was.  But they could have tried to make him a little more comfortable, maybe given him a glass of water and a pillow.  Shit his head hurt.  But he knew Wesley wanted him to be uncomfortable, wanted to make this as unpleasant as he could reasonably get away with for Angel, for more reasons that he could count, and he also knew he deserved it.  For all of those reasons, even the ones that weren’t true, and more.

 

But he needed to convince Wesley that he did have the soul back, that he was indeed Angel now, because it didn’t matter that Faith believed him, that maybe even Fred and Cordy and Gunn did, because if Wesley wasn’t convinced he wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while. 

 

Though the beast was gone now, taken down by Angelus, and maybe it would be for the best if he stayed locked up in a cage for the foreseeable future.  Then he wouldn’t have to face anyone, notice the way they avoided his eyes, didn’t talk to him, smiled uncomfortably and walked the other way because they were still hurting, still fuming over what Angelus had done to them.

 

He propped himself up on his elbows, and he could have sworn that he saw Wesley smile as he winced in pain at the movement.  He was enjoying this – having Angel locked up and helpless, hurting and still sick from the drug – and Angel couldn’t say that he blamed him.

 

“Wes,” he started to say desperate and quiet, sad eyes looking up to search a blank face for some sign of the sweet, compassionate man he’d once known, but stopped when Wesley’s eyes snapped to his, harsh and accusing, as if daring Angel to finish whatever plea for mercy and understanding he was about to voice.  He didn’t.

 

Those eyes, squinting against the ache in every part of his body that he knew Angel must be feeling, but open and begging to be believed, begging forgiveness for things that Angel didn’t even believe were his fault, not really, because he had that nifty get-out-of-jail-free card when Angelus was loose, were too much for Wesley. 

 

He blinked and looked down to avoid the fraught gaze, knowing that he’d give in if he didn’t, let Angel off the hook, unlock the cage and leave, go upstairs and tell everyone that Angelus was gone and Angel was back, and he wasn’t ready for that yet.  The two of them still had some very unfinished business to take care of. 

 

He quickly turned his body away from Angel to hide his reaction, even though he was pretty sure it hadn’t gone unnoticed, and walked to the bottom of the stairs, casually reaching up to switch off the video feed to the lobby.

 

“That’s better,” Wesley said after a few seconds to collect himself and turned back to the vampire in the cage, affecting an obviously fake smile that he hoped came across as mean as he was feeling.  “More… intimate.”

 

He wanted some time alone with the vampire, to talk to him, to mindfuck him just like he’d been mindfucked a few days prior, to make him sorry that he’d said the things he had to Wesley, to all of them, and make him sorrier still that he’d drained Lilah and left her lifeless body in the hotel hallway for Wesley to deal with.

 

The sick bastard had probably gotten off on knowing what it would do to him, and Wesley found that he was delighted to realise he must be just as sick, because he felt a distinct stirring in his groin when he looked at Angel, battered and bleeding, hurt and sick, on the ground and looking up at him, silently asking for an acceptance that was a long way off, if it was coming at all.

 

Wesley was the first one to admit that he’d spectacularly fucked some things up between the two of them, and things would never be the same after what happened with Connor, but the way Angel dealt with it was just as ill-advised, if not more so, than what Wesley had done.  And while Angel stomped around and threw a temper tantrum, trying to kill Wesley and banning him from the hotel and their lives, Wesley’s pleas for friendship and understanding and just to be heard went ignored by all. 

 

They wouldn’t even listen to him long enough to find out how angry he was about the whole thing, how much their unfair treatment hurt, how it drove him to loneliness and alcohol and a hardened heart and the arms and bed of a sworn enemy, because nobody else would have him, and she made him feel something.  Made him love her, but that came later and couldn’t ever have been enough anyway, even if Angelus hadn’t taken her out of the picture.

 

And alright, so maybe this little tete-a-tete had to do with more than just what Angelus had said and done.  The problems between Wesley and Angel were many and varied and far-reaching, and Wesley had suffered enough, paid his dues a hundred times over.  Now it was Angel’s turn.

 

Okay, Wesley was really pissed off.  Angel kind of expected that, what with how much of ass Angelus had been, but Angel had never been able to handle people being upset with him, had worked long and hard for atonement, and needed his friends to know that he hadn’t meant what Angelus had said, that it hadn’t been him and he was so, so sorry that Angelus had treated them that way.

 

“Wesley,” he started again.  “I…”

 

“If you apologise to me, Angelus, I’ll shoot you in the heart and tell them that you tricked me, that you escaped.” 

 

Wesley’s tone brooked no argument, and Angel bit back the useless apology, instead saying, “I’m not Angelus,” but everything about the statement except the words screamed ‘I’m sorry.’

 

“Yes, well,” Wesley said taking a few steps closer to the cage, stopping just on the safe side of the red line.  “That’s what you said the last time, isn’t it?”

 

Angel looked down at the floor underneath him, half wishing it would just swallow him up and save him the agony of what was to come, but he knew he had to face it, needed to face it.  “Yeah.  I… I’m not lying, Wes.  I swear.  But I don’t know how to make you believe me.” 

 

“I do,” Wesley said, exterior calm and collected but he was unable to hide the hammering of his heart in his chest or the hitch in his breathing as he took one more step toward the cage, putting himself well within the vampire’s reach and waiting to see what happened.

 

“Wes,” Angel gasped, confused, and pulled himself to his feet, despite the hangover from hell.  He took a few steps back from the bars, putting some distance between himself and the ex-watcher, even though he knew the man was in no danger – he wasn’t evil today.  “What are you doing?”

 

Wesley’s top lip turned up in a cruel impression of a smile as he produced a key from his pants pocket, and held it up for the vampire to see before putting into the lock.

 

“I’m finding out who you really are,” he said, and twisted his wrist, unlocking the solid bars so that they swung feely outward.  He stood in front of the half-opened cell door for almost a minute, staring at the bewildered vampire inside, and officially declaring the game on.

 

Angel just stared at him, mouth open slightly and trying to decide if that meant he was free to go.  Ridiculous, he knew, because at this point he could do whatever the hell he wanted, which he guessed was the point, and as he was trying to win Wesley’s favour here, he thought it best to wait for instruction, even if it almost killed him to be so subservient.

 

“I’m Angel, Wesley,” the vampire said, arms up in front of him in surrender.  “I’m… Angel.”  He wanted again to apologise, to set the record straight on what exactly he had and hadn’t done, but he had a feeling that Wesley didn’t want to hear it.  The tight set of his shoulders, the tension radiating from every part of him, the disapproving stare, they all told Angel to shut the hell up, because Wesley had already made up his mind.  Angel was sort of glad for that, glad to know that Wesley would kill him and he wouldn’t have to suffer anymore.

 

Wesley snorted, and stepped closer still to Angel, through the door and into the cage.  I’m Angel,” he mocked, tossing his crossbow the floor with a clatter.  “Well, suppose you are Angel.  Suppose I believe you think that.  What the hell does that mean?”  Wesley was getting closer still to the vampire, who’d backed himself up against the far wall in an attempt to keep the needed space between himself and Wesley.

 

He wasn’t scared for himself, not really, but he was worried that if Wes got too close that he’d do something to watcher that he couldn’t take back.  Something horrible and painful and permanent, because as bad as he felt about the past few days it was hard as hell for him to let Wesley treat him like this.

 

“Wes…”

 

“As much as you like to pretend, much as you like to try to convince yourself and the rest of us that Angel and Angelus are two different people, we know better.”  Wesley was pissed off and out for blood and he wasn’t going to let Angel’s fallen face affect him.  This needed to be done.

 

“Oh, maybe not Cordy or Fred, or all your little friends from Sunnydale or even Gunn,” Wesley admitted as he grabbed his thin t-shirt at the hem and yanked it up over his head, tossing it onto the crossbow by the wall.  “But You and I, Lorne, Connor, Rupert… We know.”

 

He stopped for a moment and looked at Angel, the dumbfounded expression of a deer caught in headlights all over him, and instead of feeling bad that Wesley had at least in part caused this, he was happy.  Happy that Angel felt like shit and happy that Wesley helped him feel that way and happy that the son of a bitch was going to let him get away with anything he wanted at the moment, because the manipulating, murdering areshole deserved what Wesley had in mind and more.

 

With Angel backed up against the wall like frightened little girl, even though they both knew he was far from it, it was easy to invade his personal space, to walk up to him, lean over and flaunt his bare neck, bare shoulder in Angel’s face, tease him, taunt him with something Wesley knew he had always secretly wanted but would never take with the soul weighing him down.  And he wasn’t only thinking about the blood; neither of them was.

 

“We know that the soul doesn’t make any real difference,” Wesley continued, pressing flush against the panting vampire, pressing his neck up against Angel’s jaw, as the small cross he wore around his neck was pushed safely against the material of Angel’s shirt.  “It just reigns you in, stops you from acting like the monster you are, but you’re still that monster, Angel.  Whether you call yourself Angel or Angelus, you’re the same, you have the same urges, the same desires, and the same thoughts.”

 

It hurt Wesley to know that at least some of Angelus’ opinions were Angel’s, and the comments he’s made hit a little too close to home and the bastard had to pay for that, whoever he was.  Pay for making Wesley follow Angel around like a puppy, desperate for some sort of affection when they first met and pay for making Wesley think he was a hero, a true champion for good, when really he was more morally corrupt than Wesley could ever hope to be, even in recent months, and most of all pay for making Wesley fall in love with him, once upon a time.  Fall in love with a fantasy of a man who had never existed and making the reality his obsession. 

 

He pulled back abruptly and Angel almost pouted, letting out a tiny squeak of disappointment at the lack of a heated Wesley against his front.  God, he wasn’t supposed to be liking this, liking the way Wesley smelled and looked and felt pressed tight to him.  He wasn’t supposed to be tempted to drink from him, to take what he’d wanted since before Wesley had given it to save his life, since before the ex-watcher had even known he wanted the same thing.

 

He wasn’t supposed to want more than that either, wasn’t supposed to notice the vague scents of lust wafting off of Wesley as he offered Angel something he knew even the soul wanted as a test of his intentions.  It was all Angel could do to remain still, to hide his own lust, his hunger as Wesley looked at him again, long and hard, and then spoke.

 

“Everything you said to us, to me, you meant.  You can blame it on him, but we know that you have those same feelings, the same opinions, deep down.  We know that you meant every word.”

 

Angel shook his head, but didn’t try to deny what Wesley had just said.  He couldn’t; any denial would be empty and false.  “Wes.”

“So I’m finding it very hard to care, Angel, just exactly who you claim to be right now.  I’m only interested in what you plan to do.”

 

It seemed as if Wesley was actually waiting for some kind of answer, and Angel had no idea what to tell him.  What did he plan on doing?  Beyond avoiding everyone and wishing the earth would swallow him up, not too much. 

 

“I plan on fixing things,” he answered, eyes still planted on Wesley’s pulse, beating strong and ragged in his neck.  He blinked and looked up at Wesley’s face.  “I plan on finding the beast’s master and taking him down.  I plan on saving the world.  Like we always do.”

 

“You plan on fixing things?” Wesley asked, incredulous.  “People are dead!  Murdered!  By you!”  Wesley once again stepped closer to the demon, eyes narrowed and menacing and trying to forget that he was just as responsible as Angel for those deaths, because it had been his idea to remove the soul in the first place.  He’d known that all that carnage was a possibility when he’d unleashed Angelus, and he’d done it anyway, those innocent lives acceptable losses for the greater good and it would weigh on him forever even if he’d never let it show.

 

A conscience was a fucking bitch.  Angelus was lucky. 

 

“Cordelia was hurt, Faith nearly died and Lilah-” he stopped himself from finishing that sentence, still not quite ready to face the reality.  She was a stone-cold, selfish bitch, sure, but he’d loved her.  He was beginning to understand why it was Rupert hated Angel so much, even as he knew he never could, no matter what the vampire did, to him or anyone else.

 

“Wesley, I…” Angel started, intending to tell him that he hadn’t killed Lilah, because even if he knew it was just because someone else beat him to it, Wesley deserved to know the truth, to know what happened.

 

His intentions were halted though, when out of nowhere (and fuck, he must still really have been out of it not to see it coming) Wesley’s tight fist caught him hard and fast across the cheek, and sent his head flying backward into the wall, where it connected with a solid thud.

 

He felt even more dizzy, his head hurt even more, and he could taste the metallic tang of his own blood inside his mouth where his teeth had caught the soft flesh of his tongue.  He tried to shake it off and looked at Wesley again, getting angry now.  Angry because the jack-ass wouldn’t listen to him, and angry because he wouldn’t believe him even if he did, but not quite angry enough to do anything about it, because the guilt he was feeling was still tipping the scale.

 

Wesley was caught between demanding to know exactly what had happened with Lilah and not wanting to hear anything about it at all.  And he’d be damned if he was going to stand there and let Angelus spout out his completely bullshit excuses about it.

 

“Who are you?” he asked instead.

 

“Angel.”

 

Wesley punched him again.

 

“And is it Angel or Angelus who thinks I’m the same loser none of the other kids wanted to sit with at lunch?”

 

Okay, so it looked like they were starting with that one.  Angel had the decency to at least flinch at the accusation, knowing that it had hurt Wesley even if the man had done a bang up job of pretending it hadn’t gotten to him at the time.  The truth was, he kind of did think that. 

 

Wesley was a dork.  A completely and totally adorable little dork, and Angel had loved him so much more back then than he did of late, but ultimately nothing had changed.  Sure, Wesley had toughened up, had hardened out of necessity, but if it was up to him, if everything had gone the way it should have, he’d still be that sweet, innocent wide-eyed man facing a world he wasn’t ready for, and would happily go back given the chance. 

 

But he knew Angelus had distorted the truth of it, made it sound worse than the actual feelings behind the sentiment.  He sure as hell didn’t mention that he’d always seen this most recent side of Wesley, buried deep under the surface and waiting for a reason to come out.  The man hadn’t changed much, but his whole world had.

 

“Thinks I’ve tried to make myself over, but ended up nowhere?”  Wesley was right in his face at that point, seething and Angel braced himself for another blow, but he wasn’t willing to put up with it for long.  Wes was angry.  Wes should be angry, but Angel could only take so much before the need to return the assault became too great.

 

“Did you ever ask yourself, Angel, just why it is that I’ve needed ‘hit the gym’ and get a ‘cool haircut?”  It had nothing to do with making himself over, they both knew that, but his new hard edge was born of recent events that he’d just as soon forget.  Events that he blamed Angel for as much as himself.

 

“You took my son,” Angel answered, knowing it wasn’t that simple, but the reminder was a powerful one, and he felt the same sense of loss and devastation all over again.  He’d missed 16 years of Connor’s life because of Wesley’s mistake, and the man had paid for that, too much and not enough.

 

Wesley fist connected suddenly with Angel’s stomach, and combined with the light-headedness he was already feeling it made him double over, hands on his knees to brace himself as he tried to recover. 

 

He managed to look up at Wesley and not fall over, which he was pretty proud of himself for, and he barely refrained from morphing into his demonic form as he said, low and dark, “Hit me again, Wesley, and I’ll…”

 

His threat was cut short by Wesley grabbing him by the shoulder and roughly yanking him up and shoving him back into wall.  “You’ll do what, Angelus?  Hit me back?  Kill me?”  His tone indicated that he wasn’t particularly scared of either of those options, and it wasn’t because he didn’t believe the vampire would follow through.  He very much did, but he was past the point of caring overly much about his own existence.

 

He gave Angel one final shove against the wall, watching Angel’s eyes close briefly at probably another flash of pain, and backed off slightly, getting them back on topic.

 

“I thought I was doing the right thing.  You know that.  You knew that.  Knew how I felt about…,” he paused and quickly recovered, not wanting to bring his feelings for Angel into this at the moment.  “…The both of you.”  Some of his anger left him and was replaced by that same old desperation for acceptance and affection that he’d been suffering under for near the past year.  Damnit, why couldn’t anybody see that he’d intended no harm?!

 

But Angel’s accusing gaze swiftly turned his mood again, and he found himself even angrier than before.  He’d apologised, he’d tried to make amends, but when the hell had Angel or the rest of his little gang admitted that perhaps they’d acted a bit harshly? 

 

“And when, exactly, did you feel like you were doing the right thing, Angel?”  Wesley balled up his fist to strike Angel again, and they both flinched, waiting for a blow that didn’t come.  Not yet.  “When you were trying to suffocate me with a pillow?  When you turned your – our – friends against me?  When you banished me from your home, your life?  When you killed my lover?”

 

With each question he’d gotten the tiniest bit closer to Angel, shuffling along the hard floor and by the end he was almost pressed against him again, head tilted to the side in mock submission, exposing his neck for Angel should he chose take it, and whispering.  “Go ahead, Angel,” he taunted.  “Do the ‘right thing’ again.”

 

Angel was tempted.  Wesley had succeeded in pissing him off and making him feel like shit (not that he needed much help with that) and he was so very close to ready to lean the two centimetres forward and sink his fangs into that soft, sweet, neck, bared and waiting for him. 

 

So close, in fact, that he didn’t even notice his fangs descending, didn’t notice Wesley move just that much closer to him, didn’t notice he was so close to his fantasy until the sharp enamel of his extended canines had actually punctured Wesley’s skin, and the heady taste of blood - sweet, hot, watcher’s blood - Wesley’s blood, filled his senses, and he pulled back abruptly, pushing Wesley away from him with as much force as he could muster.  Which wasn’t much under the circumstances, but still sent Wesley stumbling backward a fair number of steps.

 

“Don’t,” he snarled, a dangerous edge to his voice, enhanced by his vampire visage, as he straightened himself and watched Wesley do the same.  “Don’t… tempt me like that, Wes.  You know who I am.  Stop fucking around.”

 

And now it was Wesley’s turn to be tempted.  To believe that he was Angel again, to let him go, to forgive everything and get on with the saving the world, but damnit he still wanted to be wanted and he still thought Angel needed to pay.  For a lot of things.

 

“Yes,” he said, voice low, eerily clam.  “I think I will stop fucking around.”

 

Angel looked at him blankly, not quite knowing what to expect next. 

 

Wesley reached out to Angel, grabbed his shirt tight between both balled fists and yanked him away from the wall he was resting against, pulled the vampire flush against him and pressed their lips together.

 

It was an abrupt action, but not altogether surprising, Wesley supposed, as the tension between them since they had first removed Angel’s soul had been just as sexual in nature as anything else.  What was slightly surprising was the way that Angel parted his lips, just a small bit, not deepening the kiss himself, hardly responding at all in fact, but his actions had made it clear that Angel would go along with whatever Wesley wanted.  That was no fun. 

 

Wesley stared to pull back, suddenly more than a little embarrassed by what he’d done.  He knew Angel could have scented his lust long ago, when he first entered the room if he was trying, but confirming it like this, especially when the last thing he wanted to do was confirm that all his old feelings about Angel, all the good ones, stored in the back of his mind, his heart and not tainted by everything that had happened between them lately, were still very much alive, very much wanting to make themselves known, just as much as the newer, darker ones.

 

Wesley knew he was pussy.  Angel’s faithful servant, even now, but damned if he would let Angel know that.  Fuck the stupid bastard for making Wesley feel, intensely and irrefutably, all the things he desperately didn’t want to feel.  And for not feeling them back.

 

Angel didn’t stop Wesley from pulling away, but a part of him wanted to.  He knew this wasn’t the time or the place, or even what either of them really wanted out of this confrontation, but he couldn’t deny his body’s reaction, his demon’s reaction, to Wesley’s advances.  Fuck!  The man needed it, wanted it, so desperately, and so did Angel.  But not like this.

 

Angel knew Wesley had been attracted to him, he’d even returned those attractions, to a certain extent, but he also knew that Wesley’s feelings had quickly turned into something deeper than the hero-worship that had founded their entire relationship.  Angel had loved Wesley, might have even wanted to give him a go or six over the years, but his feelings hadn’t ever been what Wesley had not-so-secretly wanted from him.

 

Lately the attraction between them had been tainted by animosity and rage and desperation, the actions of two men who had made serious mistakes with serious consequences, but the want was no less for the dark edge it now possessed, and Angel had to stop himself from pushing Wesley down on the floor and taking what the little tease was flaunting, by force if necessary.

 

Wesley’s mind was rapidly spiralling off-course, but some part of his brain still remembered that he was pissed off at Angel, and there was one final bone he needed to pick today, to satisfy his bruised ego and broken heart.

 

“I’m not good enough for Fred, is that right, Angel?” Wesley asked, somewhat breathless from the brief kiss and reaching a hand up to wipe a small amount of stray slobber from the corner of his mouth.  “Is that what you think?”

 

He wanted Angel.  He always had, and there was no use denying it, as it was probably painfully obvious to them both, and that Wesley would as soon kill him at that moment as he would kiss him was probably also obvious.  But Wesley hadn’t thought before Angel had responded, very slightly, to the kiss, that Angel might have shared his desires. 

 

He knew the vampire was probably only acting out of guilt or anger or more likely both, but if Wesley could have something he’d always wanted, even when he’d hated Angel because he’d loved him so much, he was going to take it, and sod how ultimately willing Angel was.  In fact, if the vampire would suffer a little to boot, it would be all the sweeter.

 

“You’re not,” Angel growled, stepping forward toward Wesley.  And that was the truth too.  Everything Angelus had said was, but the bastard hadn’t bothered to explain that no-one was good enough for Fred.  If anyone could be what she needed, what she deserved it would be Wesley, but even he feel short of what Angel wanted for her. 

 

But that wasn’t even really what Angelus meant.  He’d meant that Fred hadn’t wanted Wesley, wouldn’t want Wesley if he hadn’t let his dark side out to play, shed a little bit of his good boy routine and shown what he was capable of.  No, he’d made sure to only tell Gunn that he knew Fred’s affections were shifting focus.  He was a bastard like that.

 

And hey, what do you know?  He may have done Wes a favour by being such a prick.

 

“No, I’m not, am I?” Wesley asked rhetorically, and his face seemed to relax, to fall, his overwhelming sadness and loneliness clear, before he snapped out of it and snapped an elbow out to connect with the under side of Angel’s chin, hard, sending his head up and back.  Wesley used the momentum the hit gave him to place his hand behind Angel’s shoulder and spin him around, foot shooting between Angel’s legs and dropping him to his knees on the ground, facing away from Wesley.

 

“I’m not man enough, I don’t have the stamina,” Wesley bitterly continued recounting what Angelus had told him, forcing Angel forward so that he was bracing himself on his hands, head bowed.

 

Wesley was God-damned lucky that Angel was still so out of it from the Orpheus, because he was willing to put up with a lot from him, but this was ridiculous.  At least, that’s what he told himself.  He didn’t even consider, no he sure didn’t, that he was letting Wesley get away with this because he deserved it.

 

Angelus was evil.  Angel was worse.  The soul should have made him a better person, made the bloodlust and the horrible, exquisite fantasies stop, but it hadn’t.  He felt a little bit of guilt over how horrible he was now, but not enough to stop the depraved desires, the immoral thoughts, the wicked deeds the hurtful things said, and he needed to be punished for that.  Wesley seemed like the perfect person to carry out that punishment, to make him really feel everything he’d done, to make him regret it.

 

“What about you?” Wesley asked quietly, deceptively calm, running his hand down Angel’s back softly.

 

Angel shivered under the touch and the question, trying desperately to figure out what was going on, what he wanted to go on.  “What?” he asked, not quite understanding what Wesley was asking of him, or why the hell Wesley’s hand on his back felt good, comforting, when it should revolt and infuriate him just now.

 

“Am I man enough for you, Angel?” Wesley asked him, the hand at Angel’s back darting around to the front of his pants, feeling the evidence of Angel’s arousal, even if he was trying hard to hide it.

 

Angel froze, stopped his unnecessary breathing and closed his eyes, trying not to indulge in the pleasure, the pain that Wesley was offering, trying not to push forward into the hand, gently kneading his hard cock through his pants, trying not to push back onto the answering hard-on that Wesley was none too subtly grinding against his ass.

 

“Wesley,” he sighed, feeling defeated even though he was far from it.  He could stop this, he knew, turn the tables on them if he really put his mind to it, despite feeling like shit, or he could just end this stupidity completely, walk out of the cage, out of the basement and ignore everything, pretend everything was fine.  But he didn’t.

 

Wesley flicked open the button on Angel’s pants expertly, and Angel tried hard not to be impressed with the speed and agility with which he lowered the zipper and shoved Angel’s pants and boxers down around his thighs.  Angel tried really hard not to be impressed by the skill Wesley exhibited when he took him in hand, pumping him slow and rough and eliciting unwanted shudders and even a slight groan from the vampire on his knees.

 

Wesley honestly hadn’t been planning for it to come to this, was used to his unfulfilled lust in Angel’s presence, used to going home frustrated and getting himself off to thoughts of the two of them together.  The thoughts used to be sweet ones, Angel’s lips on his own after the hero had smiled at him, told him he’d done well, the two of them together in Angel’s soft bed in the hotel, or his own couch in his apartment, petting and touching and holding each other close.

 

But lately the images in his mind had changed, and he was tempted to follow through on the new desires.  To hurt Angel, like he’d been hurt.  Inflict all the physical pain that he could to erase the emotional turmoil that had been inflicted upon him this past year.  He didn’t though.  And not because he didn’t want to – he very much did – but because he knew it would be futile.  Sure he could hurt Angel a little, but it wouldn’t be anything the vampire couldn’t handle, probably nothing he wouldn’t enjoy, and Wesley could let off a little steam, but they’d just be right back where they started when it was finished.

 

Didn’t mean Wesley wasn’t going to get off, though.  Didn’t mean he couldn’t hurt Angel in other ways, and he was pretty sure that taking him like this, regardless of the physical pain, would hurt him plenty.

 

“Am I, Angel?” he asked again, almost conversationally, as he opened his own pants enough to take out his own aching cock, lined it up with Angel’s hole and pushed forward, entering the cool channel in one swift thrust. 

 

Fuck!” Angel cried out, throwing his head back and biting through his bottom lip with his razor-sharp fangs.

 

Wesley hadn’t been especially rough with the motion, not as rough as some people Angel had known, but he truly hadn’t been expecting it, wasn’t ready for it, and it hurt.  He hadn’t thought Wesley would go this far.  A little bit of violence between friends was one thing, but to take him without asking, with no feeling besides anger and desperation, to make Angel well and truly aware that it was an act of hate, of revenge, when he knew Angel didn’t want it, not like this and probably not at all…sucked.  Funny, that he would have welcomed this sort of interaction with a fair number of other people, especially if he was on the other side of things, but with Wesley it seemed sordid, like they were better than this.

 

And yeah, that was probably the point, and all Angel wanted was for it to be over, to let Wes get this out of his system so that they could go back.  Go back to what, he didn’t really know, but he had a feeling this was meant to even the playing field somehow, and Angel was more than ready for that, ready for them to be a family again, even it took degrading himself like this to make it happen.

 

And fuck, maybe this would prove to Wes that he was Angel, because Angelus would never let this happen.  Ever.

 

So he let himself go.  Let himself enjoy what Wesley did, with his body if not his mind, and relaxed into Wesley’s rapid, jabbing thrusts inside him, the tearing in Angel’s passage producing enough blood to ease the way slightly, and if Angel closed his eyes and imagined they were someplace else, and this was happening out of a lust born of friendship and mutual attraction and the tiniest of reciprocated crushes, it was actually pretty good.

 

And then Wesley grabbed his cock, started stroking it in time with his own punishing movements behind him, and it was incredibly good.

 

Angel’s dick felt odd in Wesley’s hand.  Heavy and hard and pulsing and wonderful, but not something he ever thought that he’d actually touch, not today anyway.  But it didn’t feel as odd as Angel’s arse clenching around his own erection like a vice.  Or maybe a blow-up doll. 

 

He hadn’t slept with many men, but he had it on pretty good authority that the anus was a good deal tighter than the vagina.  He’d been Lilah’s lover, after all.  But it was the temperature of it that was the strangest part.  Not warm, like the other bodies he’d been inside, but not cold either, like he’d imagined. 

 

It didn’t matter though, what it felt like, not really.  Even though it felt damn good, despite the unreality of it all.  He didn’t want this to last, didn’t want to take his time and make Angelus suffer from pain and pleasure at once.  He wanted to get done and get gone, go home and forget about this, because it had started out in a good place in his head, this ‘bash Angel about’ plan, but he didn’t want this.  Neither of them did.

 

He sped up his thrusts, sped up his hand on the hard flesh of Angel’s cock, letting his fingers play slightly over the head, spreading pre-cum around to lubricate the movements of his hand and tried not to sigh in pleasure, to give in and pull Angel to him, to kiss him and say he was sorry and finish this thing right, like he’d done in his dreams, when Angel moaned out a breathy, “God, Wes” and pushed back slightly onto Wesley.

 

That was enough; this had to end.  He hammered in a few more times, rhythm erratic as he searched for an orgasm that didn’t seem to want to be found, but it looked like Angel wasn’t having that problem, because after a few more jerks forward, a few more flicks of his wrist, Angel was screaming and tensing and his hand was covered in thick, white spunk.

 

The spasming of Angel’s hole around his prick was almost enough to send him over, almost what he needed, and it might have turned out to be enough, but Wesley wasn’t interested in waiting to find out.

 

He brought his arm forward, bent slightly to press the underside of his forearm against Angel’s cheek, nearly laughing from frustration and rejection when he turned away from the touch.  But Wesley didn’t let it go.  He reached forward with the other hand to grab the back of Angel’s head, corded his fingers through Angel’s hair to hold him still, and tried again.

 

He shoved hard, pushing his arm up to Angel’s mouth, deep blue veins throbbing and pulsing so that Angel could feel against his lips the flow of Wesley’s blood under the skin.

 

Angel had always prided himself on his restraint, but God, if Wesley put his mind to it he could tempt a fucking priest, and Angel sure as hell wasn’t one of those.  It was too much for him, the recent orgasm and the pounding his prostate was still taking and the humiliation of the whole thing was getting to him.  And wanting to taste this man wasn’t something new.

 

So he gave in, pressed his fangs into the soft skin and straight into Wesley’s vein, sucked in his blood in long, slow draughts and nearly passed out from how good it was.  He was swooning, he was pretty sure, even with Wesley’s cock still buried in his ass.  He was dizzy and felt wonderful and horrid at once and he was pretty sure he came a second time when Wesley squeezed his cock, hard, and he felt a sharp burning between his shoulder blades that added to the pleasure.

 

When Angel bit into him Wesley jerked forward and held his breath, afraid that it would be too painful and feel too good.  When Angel started to suck, Wesley’s eyes rolled back and he hammered forward a few more times, as hard as he could and clenched his fist with all his might around Angel’s dick before he emptied himself on a wordless cry into Angel’s hole.

 

He fell forward, for a second forgetting that this had nothing to do with closeness, and let himself recover, gasping for much needed breath bent over Angel on the cold cement floor.  The cross Wesley had made sure to wear, though he knew it wouldn’t do him any good, was hanging loosely from the chain around his neck, and as he allowed himself to rest it burned a satisfying pattern into the skin of Angel’s back.

 

Not as much time as either of then would have liked had passed when Wesley pulled his softening dick out of Angel’s hole, sperm and blood leaking from the abused orifice, and tucked himself in.  He stood, picking up his t-shirt from the floor as he did and slipping it over his head, backing up several paces and watching with a disdain that was as much directed at himself as it was the vampire on the floor, as Angel pulled his own pants up and turned over, looking up at Wesley with a mixture of apology and reproach.

 

Bastard couldn’t even help but be sorry even after the way Wesley had treated him.  He shook his head in disgust and licked his lips, unconsciously savouring the taste of Angel’s own.

 

“Who are you?” he asked, eyes narrowed as he picked up the crossbow that he’d earlier dripped.

 

“Angel,” the vampire told him, desperate for this to be the end.

 

“Yes, you really are, aren’t you?” Wesley answered, not at all impressed, because Angel was just as bad as Angelus in the end, if he wanted to be.  He hadn’t been a champion for a long time now in Wesley’s eyes.

 

Wesley zipped himself up and turned on his heel, walking out of the cage, out of the basement, out of the hotel, not stopping to look back at Angel, or to answer any of the questions he was asked by the group about what was going on, and he didn’t stop until he was back at his apartment, downing glass after glass of scotch, and dozing on his couch, eyes full of unshed tears.

 

END



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[identity profile] leontyne.livejournal.com 2008-07-03 08:55 pm (UTC)(link)
Oh wow, this was amazing! Such fantastic insight on Angel vs. Angelus. My favorite bit:

Angelus was evil. Angel was worse. The soul should have made him a better person, made the bloodlust and the horrible, exquisite fantasies stop, but it hadn’t.

Wonderful. :)

[identity profile] rockstarpeach.livejournal.com 2008-07-04 02:42 pm (UTC)(link)
Thanks hon! I'm so glad you liked it :)

[identity profile] speak-me-fair.livejournal.com 2008-07-03 09:00 pm (UTC)(link)
*bows down and kisses your feet*

Perfect.

For all of those reasons, even the ones that weren’t true, and more.

and

Angelus was evil. Angel was worse.

Oh yeah. You see what I see, and I love you for it....

[identity profile] rockstarpeach.livejournal.com 2008-07-04 02:43 pm (UTC)(link)
*huggles*

Of course I see what you see. It's perfectly obvious, really :)

[identity profile] ash-carpenter.livejournal.com 2008-07-03 09:54 pm (UTC)(link)
Wow...that was amazing and heartbreaking and so damned bleak!

Wonderful characterisations honey and I liked the exploration of all their feelings and repression. Things really did get bad between them and I found the part of this where neither wanted the physical enjoyment really intriguing!

Excellent. Now...if I just go find something comforting and fluffy to read...

*hugs you for warmth*

[identity profile] rockstarpeach.livejournal.com 2008-07-04 02:46 pm (UTC)(link)
Awww, honey. *hugs you*

I told you about this one a while back, and I was worried that it was going to come out all bitch-festy, so it's good that the exploration of feelings read alright.

Oh, yes. Fluff is good. Everyone needs some fluff once in a while. Hey you should write some. I dare ya ;)

[identity profile] mithril-56.livejournal.com 2008-07-03 10:09 pm (UTC)(link)
Thank you, peach, for such a big effort! Your ficlet, imo, was really close to a long story. Your prose and descriptive skills are very good, and your story was quite poetic, despite the non-con subject matter. Good job.

[identity profile] rockstarpeach.livejournal.com 2008-07-04 02:47 pm (UTC)(link)
Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it.

[identity profile] hello-spikey.livejournal.com 2008-07-04 02:32 am (UTC)(link)
oh my guh.

That was daaaark. And psycho. And stuff. But lots of things that never got said or resolved in the show, you know? I mean... it works... in a dirtybadwrong way.

[identity profile] rockstarpeach.livejournal.com 2008-07-04 02:48 pm (UTC)(link)
Haha. Dark and psycho and stuff. Good. Mission accomplished :)

Yeah, I figure Wes really needed to have his side heard, because nobody ever bothered to listen to him, and it really pissed him off.

[identity profile] angelstoy.livejournal.com 2008-07-06 06:26 am (UTC)(link)
HOLY FUCKIN' CHRIST ON A BIG WOODEN STICK DID THAT ROCK MY GODDAMN SOCKS OFF AND THEN SOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! *HAPPY SIGH* I just love you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[identity profile] rockstarpeach.livejournal.com 2008-07-07 05:41 pm (UTC)(link)
*BG*

Thanks honey :) I made a few changes since you saw it last, but it's pretty much the same.

There's something about Wes/Angel that can be so dark and yet sweet at the same time, and it makes a disturbing sort of sense.

BTW, I'm thinking about you guys, like all the time, I hope you're okay, and crazy bitches are leaving you alone. Or... phoning incessantly, as is appropriate :)

*hugs you extra hard, and Finn too*
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[identity profile] rockstarpeach.livejournal.com 2008-07-09 07:31 pm (UTC)(link)
Dark and bleak is good sometimes :) Thanks babe!

[identity profile] zoesmith.livejournal.com 2008-07-15 02:10 pm (UTC)(link)
Oh wow, that was really really dark. I loved it.
You know how much I like Wes when he's bad, and taking it on Angel... yeah I wanted that to happen for quite some time!
I can see why he did it and I can also see why Angel took it. They're both so messed up, aren't they?

Excellent characterizations baby, wonderful story!

*kisses you* xxx

[identity profile] rockstarpeach.livejournal.com 2008-07-15 05:57 pm (UTC)(link)
Yeah, they are both pretty messed up. Poor pookies.

I know you like Wes when he's bad, honey :) Who wouldn't? ;)

Thanks so much, babe! I'm so happy you liked it!!

*snuggles*