"What's next on the list?" Gunn demanded, and shot another glare at Angel, who quickly pretended he wasn't laughing, either.

"Don't you want to know which one of them wears--" Angel began.

"*NO* I do not! And neither do either of you, so you can just stop pretending I'm the only one who wants to just go buy them a pizza and be done with it."

"I only meant that they come in four sizes, and we should probably try to pick the right one," Angel said mildly.

"Get 'em two of each," Gunn answered with a little snarl. Wesley agreed silently. The less they knew about whether Angel knew what size Spike wore, the better.

Angel shrugged one shoulder, and took the basket from Wesley, disappearing back down the aisle for a moment. When he returned, there were several of the packages in the bottom of the basket. Wesley made a point of not counting. Instead he focused on the list once more. "Extra large, silicon-- oh." He put the list down again, beginning to believe that perhaps insisting on accompanying Angel and Gunn had been a bad idea.

"What's wrong with them wanting a dildo?" Angel asked.

Wesley felt himself blushing even harder. "It isn't... perhaps you should--" He handed the list to Angel. There were some things even a well-trained Watcher didn't want to know about evil, and evil's ways. It wasn't anything terribly frightening-- he carried the living versions at the end of his own wrists. It was just... now he was *thinking* about it. And every time he saw Spike reach for that pair of lefty scissors to cut out another Andy Capp cartoon, or Xander whap Spike on the back of the head, he'd be *looking* at them. And... *thinking.*

He was startled when someone nudged him. Flustered, he looked over to find Gunn watching him. It was ridiculous to think it was written on his face, what he was thinking. Trying not to think. Then Gunn smirked. "You wanna wait in the car?"

Wesley frowned, feeling the insult. "Perhaps I should go ask Geruklu to show me where they are." He named the clerk who'd given them the list.

"You know his *name*?" Gunn asked.

Wesley was a bit taken aback. "It's printed on his name tag, Charles."

There was that flattening of his ears to his skull again. "Oh. Yeah." Then he frowned. "Not in English."

"No, Naga. If it calms your bloodlust any, the 'klu' suffix indicates that he, or rather khe, is a neuter."

"Oh." Gunn shook his head, not that it made his ears pop away from his skull or anything. "Naw, I'll show you where they are." Then they contracted even further. "I mean..." He shook his head again. "Pizza. Pepperoni. Anchovies."

"I think Spike likes anchovies," Angel said calmly, following along behind. Wesley frowned at him -- he seemed to be taking this entirely too calmly. Then again, the elder vampire had probably seen and done much more than this. Probably with Spike. Wesley decided he didn't want to think about *that* either. Gunn was leading them past an aisle which had regular dildos, however, and Wesley stopped when something caught his eye.

"Did you know," he asked as he pulled a rainbow-colored one off the shelf, "that there's actually a town called Dildo?"

Gunn looked at him as if he'd suddenly metamorphosed into Spike, then and there. "Uh-huh. Right."

"No," he waved the item, which was also ribbed for someone's pleasure, in Gunn's face. "I'm serious. It's in Newfoundland." Gunn didn't appear to be breathing very well. "Every year they have a sort of seafaring festival, to celebrate the town mascot, Captain Dildo." Now even Angel was making little choking noises, and *he* didn't *have* to breathe. "They call it Dildo Days."

He paused, and watched Gunn's face. The man's eyes seemed to be dilated a bit, and he didn't appear to be listening to Wesley's rather interesting mini-lecture. Wesley turned to Angel, coincidentally waving the dildo at him, and pointing it towards him as he asked, "Angel? Have you ever been to Newfoundland?" Angel didn't answer right away. In fact, he didn't answer at all until Wesley waved the tip of the dildo back and forth a couple times before prompting, "Angel? Want one?"

"Yeah. Huh?"

He sighed exaggeratedly. "Do you want one. Would you like one. Or three."

Angel blinked slowly. Then he carefully took the dildo from Wesley's hand, and set it back on the shelf. After a moment, he licked his lips. "Not...uh... rainbow colored. It reminds me of those Lisa Frank sticker albums with the purple unicorns."

Wesley knew which ones he meant. The evening after Spike and Xander's engagement party, Harmony had dragged a small group of hapless victims--including Buffy, Drusilla, Wesley and his lovers--up and down the aisles of Wal-Mart looking for them. "Agreed." Wesley put the item back on the shelf -- the picked up another. "What about this one?"

"Damn. I knew it."

Surprised, Wesley looked over at Gunn. "You knew what?"

Gunn was staring at the dildo in Wes' hand, and his own were straying near the fly of his pants. "Knew I'd end up... Dammit, Wes, put that thing down!"

Wesley was surprised. He'd rather thought... "You don't want one?"

"Put it down in the basket. Just get it outta your *hand*!" Which of course caused Wesley to look at his *hand* again. And he started to *think.* So he didn't put the dildo down. At least not fast enough for Gunn's taste. "Wes! Pleeeeeese!"

The sound broke him out of his daze, and thankfully wiped any Xander and/or Spike images out of his head. Temporarily, anyway. "What?"

"That! Put it down!"

Wes looked down at his... no, not at his hand. He wasn't going that route again. He looked down at the black latex item *in* his hand, and gestured with it towards Gunn. "This? Why do you want me to put it down?"

Gunn's eyes were wide, and very definitely in danger of rolling back into his head. Wesley kept his face impassive, and he could hear no sounds from Angel -- which meant Angel was either controlling himself as well, or equally distracted. Wesley held the dildo out, and Gunn whimpered in exactly the same way he did right before Wesley would enter him, when they were on the bed and Gunn was on his back.

"Charles...?"

"Uh?"

"I do believe the sign said 'Do Not Use Items In Aisles'."

"They have fitting rooms..." Gunn squeaked.

"Ah. And did you want to use one?" All in a tone perfectly calm, cool, and collected. Thank God for Xander and Spike. Wesley repeated that phrase in his mind, and decided it didn't bear examination.

Gunn just whimpered at him. Wes considered it -- for all of two seconds. Then Gunn turned and walked towards the rooms Wesley had noticed earlier, recognised immediately and known that he *would*, if he had to return to this place a dozen times, get his lovers in there. Apparently Gunn had been right, in wanting to keep him away from here. His lover had no self-control at all. Perhaps, Wesley told himself, as he walked after Gunn, that should be 'lovers'. Angel was following them, but he was right behind Wes -- body only a few inches away, walking faster until he was nudging Wes along, hurrying him to follow Gunn through that first door and down the short hall.

There were signs in the hall. Well, of course there were signs, the outer area of the store was plastered with them. But... 'Please do not spawn in Fitting Room Three. All others are equipped with brood tanks...' Somehow Wesley doubted that they were referring to isolation chambers for sometimes-morose vampires. And then there was 'If it doesn't fit, pick another. No re-sizing of items via magickal means. Unless they are attached to you, in which case, feel free. Check out Aisle Four."

He decided he would have to return to Morrie's, alone, just to read all of the signs.

Gunn stopped outside fitting room 10, and looked back at Wesley and Angel. The expression on his face was partly lust, partly worry. Wesley arched an eyebrow and looked down at the item in question. Gunn sighed. "I was *gonna* ask if you were sure, but, dammit, if you say 'no' now, I'll have Angel do it."

Wesley smiled. "Inside," was all he said, and he waved towards the room. Gunn was in, and dropping his clothes before Angel could shut the door behind them. "You might wait," Wesley teased. "I might not want to share the sight of your backside, delicious as it is, with three Sheeardi Demons and a Kitsune of indeterminate gender."

There was no one in the hall behind them, though it hardly mattered. While Angel spared a quick glance back, Gunn just gave a small moan and made it perfectly clear that he didn't care if the entire Mormon Tabernacle Choir were out in the hallway, backing up Spike Jones on nose flute and Xander Harris singing 'You Light Up My Life.' The moment the door clicked into its latch, a slight tingling enveloped Wesley from head to toe. Judging from the looks on his lovers' faces, the same thing was happening to them. It was...pleasant, vaguely sexual, yet also impersonal. The dildo in his hand glowed, for a second, and then both effects dissipated. Wesley blinked at Angel, since Gunn was obviously in no condition to explain anything.

"Sterilization spell."

"Ah. Of course." He nodded, the feeling of impersonal distance washing briefly over him, again. It made him think about what he was about to do. What Gunn, who was already lying on his back, was so eager for. He hadn't ever mentioned wanting something like this before. What else was Gunn hiding in that libido of his? Wesley grinned to himself. They had a whole store, yet, to wander about and find out in.

Wesley moved forward, standing at the end of the raised bench where Gunn was lying, waiting for him. Angel stayed back, off to one side, to watch. Yielding to a wicked impulse, Wesley lowered the dildo and pressed its dry tip to Gunn's ass. "So...how much do you want it?"

A look. Desperate dark eyes half-glazed with something more insane than Wesley had ever seen on any demon he'd met, except perhaps for Angel in a situation that had involved a live chicken, a weed-whacker, and a bottle of peach preserves.

But at least Angel had saved the children who'd been in danger, and the peach preserves had tasted delicious the next morning, spread on freshly-baked scones.

"Hrrm...We-ess..." And Gunn actually ground himself *towards* the dildo. Wesley snatched it away.

"That much?" And his voice was gentler now. "Then I suppose we shall have to do something about that." He started to look around, and found Angel there, handing over a small packet of lube. Together they quickly prepared the dildo -- Gunn's eyes glued to the thing, glued to their actions as if just watching was going to make him explode.

Then Wes turned back, and leaned forward. Pressed the tip in place, once more, and asked, "Did you want it slow?" He pushed. The dildo slipped in completely. "Or fast?" But Gunn wasn't answering, he was arching his back and letting out a moan that made him glad the walls were sound-proofed.

There was a second, softer moan, from over Wes' left shoulder. He turned around to see Angel looking slightly glazed himself. Nothing in Gunn's league; if Gunn were, for example, as glazed as a classic Krispy Kreme, Angel was somewhere in the lightly-basted cruller category. Since Gunn hadn't come to a decision on the fast or slow issue, Wesley decided to take some time to explore Angel's probably encyclopedic knowledge of the shop and its history. It had nothing to do with torturing either of his lovers. Really.

"So... how long has Morrie been in business, Angel?" He gave the vampire his best 'Yes, Professor, I'm terribly concerned with the socio-economic plight of the miners featured in Sons and Lovers, and wasn't D.H. Lawrence terribly, terribly clever and can I unfasten those trousers for you, sir,' look.

"Huh?" Angel took several seconds before dragging his gaze away from what Wesley was doing -- or not doing. "Morrie's...?"

"How long has this shop been here? Did it start out catering to demons, or did they branch out later?"

"I...I don't know." Angel's gaze was trying to sneak back to Gunn, though he was making valiant efforts to focus on the conversation. Such as it was. "I think...demon, first."

"That's quite intriguing," Wesley said, ignoring the way Gunn was panting, now, and trying to form coherent syllables. "The Watcher's Council, of course, never shared information on this type of establishment-- yes, Charles? Have you decided?"

Gunn had lifted his head, and was glaring at Wesley. Death-ray eyes, or a passable attempt since they kept glazing over. Gunn blinked again, and glared harder. Then he moaned.

"Apparently not. Well, you just take your time. The place is open twenty-four hours, yes, Angel?" Angel nodded slowly, his eyes on Gunn, who had lost any hope of being able to glare now. *His* eyes were more or less fixed on the ceiling. "Very convenient." Wesley cocked his head at Angel. "I suppose you weren't really a client, in the old days. Pre-soul-permanence. Where did you end up hearing about this place?"

"I, er..." Angel trailed off, again, watching as Gunn suddenly started to move. Wesley glanced down sharply at Gunn, who had started jerking himself back and forth in fast, but short stroke, trying to fuck himself on the dildo Wes held.

"Ah, then you've opted for fast?" he asked, still smiling. Held the dildo quite still, waiting to see just how desperate Gunn would become before he screamed at them to do something. Gunn was moving his legs, now, reaching out for Wesley as if to pull him closer. As if that would help, Wes told himself, but allowed himself to be drawn in.

He rested his other hand on Gunn's thigh, and brought his own knee up. Resting it at the base of the dildo, he held it in place as he put both hands, now, on Gunn's legs. "Charles?" Gunn wasn't listening. Or he didn't care. He was still moving, though he had poor purchase on the bench, he wasn't achieving the effect he was no doubt hoping for.

"Fast, or slow? Just say it, Gunn." But there was nothing he could say, and Wesley knew it. When he turned to glance at Angel, he saw something there, beneath the dumbfounded lust, that looked suspiciously like admiration. Which was both flattering and mildly chilling, if he thought too deeply about it. Angel did have a couple centuries more experience at torture of various sorts, after all.

He returned his attention to Gunn, who was now grasping at the air with his hands. Begging without words, Wesley knew exactly what he wanted. What his lover needed....

"So you never said how you found this place," he reminded Angel. There was a loud, disgruntled groan from Gunn.

"Well, actually it was--"

"Fuck!" Gunn yelled, finally finding his voice. It wasn't, Wesley knew, a command. "Dammit I'll do it myself...." Then he lost coherence again as he moved, and discovered once again how poorly made the bench was for what he was trying to do. Either that or it was the way Wesley was holding his legs back, moving the angle of the dildo's entrance higher, so that any motions back and forth did quite little.

"It was...?" Wesley prompted Angel. And then he thought about what the answer was going to be, and wondered if he should've bothered asking. "Spike, of course," he supplied, finishing his own sentence.

Angel shook his head. "Ah...no, actually."

Wesley raised an eyebrow. Gunn raised the lower half of his body an inch off the bench. Wesley lowered his hand to compensate, making sure the dildo didn't touch anything that would make Gunn's effort worthwhile, but he didn't lower the eyebrow. "Then who?"

"Ah... um...." Angel fidgeted with his collar.

Wesley rolled his eyeballs as Gunn made an attempt to roll his hips. Gunn was muttering something under his breath, which said undesirable things about his ability to think, once more. Wesley twisted his wrist slightly, turning the not-exactly-smooth-round dildo. Gunn's eyes rolled and his head fell back. Then Wesley held it still once more, and he could hear Gunn trying to inhale enough to form more mutterings.

"Who was it?" Wesley demanded. This was proving to be almost as interesting as what he was doing to Gunn. Who was now starting to shake, a bit.

"Um, I...usawahuh." Angel muttered.

Wesley puzzled it out. "You use a wire?"

Angel shook his head, and Wesley wondered if everything he thought he knew about vampires and their inability to blush was in fact some sort of propaganda spread by... well, probably by Spike. Because there was a faint pinkish *something* creeping across Angel's face.

"You use a whore gear?" It was a possibility. That convertible of Angel's had more positions on the shift than a normal car, and several of them were distinctly comfortable when one was sitting in the front seat between one's lovers and... Wesley shook away the distraction. Angel's *hair* seemed to be blushing, and though his mouth was open and his lips were moving, no sound was emerging, and if Wesley's lip-reading ability was any good at all, he wasn't even trying to speak English.

He narrowed his eyes and tried again. "Yousawuha is the name of the demon who brought you here?"

"He used to work here!" Gunn shouted. Wesley turned to him, astonished. He could actually speak? Then Gunn's words registered and he looked at Angel, who was looking as mortified as a vampire who'd tried to destroy the world, could.

"You did?"

Angel nodded. Wesley thought about that, as he started moving the dildo ever so slightly. Gunn deserved *something* after all, for deciphering what Angel had said. Gunn was moaning, again, and sounding much happier about it.

"You used to *work* here, and yet you didn't even want to bring me to this place?"

Angel shook his head. Tore his eyes away from the writhing figure on the bench, and actually looked directly at Wesley. "I...ah...It was the seventies. I got sick of rats. Temporarily."

Wesley wasn't sure whether to be insulted that Angel hadn't wanted him to meet any former co-workers who might still be around, or merely intrigued. He decided to reserve judgement. On the other hand, there was the possibility of Angel's former-employee discount to take into account.

He looked back down at Gunn, wondering if he had anything else to add to the conversation. But Gunn was happily writhing, now, shoving himself towards the dildo Wes was holding in a more useful position. It was rather interesting to watch, seeing the man fucking himself, with little assistance from anyone else. It made him think of rigging a holder for the dildo, something to hold it in place so that he and Angel could watch from across the room....

Angel growled softly in his ear. "Fine, isn't it?" he said.

"It has a certain...something...to it." Suddenly Wesley's vocabulary was deserting him. He made a concerted effort. "It does appeal." Gunn was muttering again, something about someone's mother, but Wesley decided it couldn't possibly be in reference to anyone in the room, since Angel had eaten his centuries ago, and Wesley's would certainly never get up to the sort of things Gunn was implying.

"It has an illustrious quality," Angel remarked, and Wesley could hear the slight hesitation in his voice that said his objective observation was not so objective. Shifting his grip, and his stance, Wesley positioned himself so that Angel -- should he so choose -- could stand behind him, and...yes. Precisely that. Wesley moaned as Angel's hands began to undo his trousers. Gunn was suddenly holding his head up and staring, wide-eyed.

Wesley supposed it must have made an interesting picture. Even an illustrious one, if that was really the word Angel had been seeking. Angel standing behind him, one hand pulling Wesley's trousers down, the other on what marked Wesley's own comments as being understatements of a heinous degree. Angel nuzzling up to his shoulder, but nothing so soft and comforting as it was before they had left home. This was more like a pre-dinner nibble. An utterly safe one, but the pretended danger was enough to make Wesley shudder a little, as it always did.

Shudder more when he realized consciously, as he'd known all along, that Angel still had what was left of the lube in his other hand, and was pressed cool and slick against him-- no warm Wesley-breath to take away the chill. He began to work the dildo with more precision, pushing and turning it solely to give pleasure, no longer to tease and torment. Angel's fingers began to dance along his skin, by-passing the chance to tease and going straight for touching him, grabbing him firmly and getting him as hard as Gunn had been since they'd entered this room.

His mind was trying to tell him this was outrageous. There must be something unthinkable here, something that ought not be done. But despite the absurdity of it -- and was there any requirement to purchase what you'd already used? -- he could not think of anything to stop this. Perhaps it was an aura about the establishment, perhaps it was simply too many months spent being at his lovers' behest, to let himself do and be done, anything they desired. Neither of his lovers had any reservations in the bedroom. Why should it be any different, out of it?

So there it was. There was Gunn before him, the perfect picture of wanton abandon, taking and rolling with every move of the dildo that Wesley still had the presence of mind to make. There was Angel behind him, one hand on Wesley, one hand guiding himself along the crack of Wesley's arse-- not entering, or trying to, just sliding slowly back and forth against him in that natural groove. Human teeth in his shoulder, biting down just so hard. Then a bit harder. Enough to make him gasp. Enough to make him push forward against Gunn, and there was another gasp, and Angel growling behind him.

Pulling him back by the hand around him, back against Angel's own hardness. Back and forth between the two of them, with Wesley in the middle. Breathing. Almost still thinking. Enough presence of mind to keep his hand wrapped firmly around the dildo, though not enough to do more than hold it and let the motion of the man -- vampire -- behind him, push him and it forward, let them fall slightly back. The noises, now, coming from before him were lengthy, unbroken. Low growling howls, moaned and panted as Gunn took whatever air he could and gave it back to his lovers in echoing sound.

Angel, behind him, pushing a bit more, holding still before releasing and pushing again, sliding past where Wesley wanted him to be. Wesley's head fell back and it landed on Angel's shoulder, and he would have let go, let go everything and let Angel simply fuck him if it weren't for the sounds still coming from the bench. Wanted more of those sounds, and more of those trembling muscles to make his own seem normal. So when Angel let up, playing into the rhythm, Wesley broke it. Moved forward when he should have moved back. Forward to push into Gunn, to elicit a moan that made the others seem like whispers, that almost matched Angel's growls in intensity. And Angel did growl, oh yes he did, at being pulled away from, but Wesley didn't let himself be pulled back. Just waited, muscles almost turned inside out with twitching, for Angel to come to *him*.

For someone to realize just who was in control, here.

With a low whine --something sideways from human, that made Wesley wonder which face he would see if he turned his head, though the teeth in his shoulder still felt blunt-- Angel moved forward against him and waited. Wesley found himself thinking, again. Untouched for long enough for his head to clear and his eyes to focus on Gunn, who was lost, lost and ready to be pushed over the precipice Wesley had been holding him over.

He wanted to see it, more so than he wanted to feel it himself. He returned his attention to Gunn, to the device in his hand which allowed him to reach and touch, without ever touching him, himself. A barrier of silicone that let him step back and *see* what he was doing. A slight whine, from behind him, and he realized Angel was still waiting. Glanced back to see, waiting and impatient and needing a word to know what he could do. It occurred to him that someone else had not been tormented, enough.

"Yes?" He asked the question, but didn't wait for an answer, his gaze homing in on Gunn once again. His hand moving, pushing, twisting. Focused entirely on the man in front of him. To the observing eye, at any rate. Inwardly, he was listening to Angel's little growls, little whines, little almost-breaths. Smiling, and hoping Angel couldn't see his face reflected in Gunn's eyes.

"Wes..." Angel rhymed apparently unknowingly, and Wesley felt his lips twitch. Nothing else twitched, however, unless you considered the flick of his wrist that followed the sound of his name, growled in a voice that was no longer human. But Gunn was panting, now, almost screaming. Wesley reached forward and ran a fingernail along the length of Gunn's erection. Not nearly enough to send him over, but enough to promise more.

There was a fingernail along his own erection, barely a hint of a touch. Asking, begging, and running along his skin again as Wesley repeated his own teasing scrape on Gunn. Angel's finger followed his, and Angel was growling again, half-demand, half-question. Wesley moved an inch away and Angel was left whimpering again, bereft.

Wesley had to swallow his own whimper. Wanted to shove his cock back into Angels' hand and -- but he wanted to keep pushing. They needed punishing, anyhow. Keeping him from this place as if he were too young or too naive to be here. Hell, he was older than Gunn, and as for naive... He twisted the silicone length in his hand, just so. Just there. Just...there. Pushed in. When Gunn was actually screaming, so close to the edge that you couldn't measure it with the naked eye, Wesley pulled it out. All the way out.

Looked down at the wide, despairing eyes, and grinned. Wesley set the dildo down, base end, upright on the floor. It was clean enough, though he figured it was spellcraft that made it so. Gunn was sitting up, expression of disbelief almost comical. Then Wesley tucked himself back into his trousers, shifting a bit to make himself as comfortable as was reasonable. Glad he'd worn loose clothing, then crouched -- no bending at the waist -- and picked the dildo back up.

He regarded it. "I'd say it fits. We should purchase it." Then he turned and walked towards the door.

Gunn wailed, then one of them growled, and he was fair tackled before he took two more steps. Gently turned around, and Gunn was there, somehow able to stand up-right. "That was not *nissssse*," Gunn hissed in unconscious parody of the Naga salesclerk who was probably even now mentally toting up the gargantuan commission khe would be earning from this little visit.

"Ah, and Wesley is far too *nice* to be seen in a place like this, isn't he?" He matched Gunn stare for stare, and just managed to keep from smirking.

"Wesley is far too nice to be seen stripped naked, painted blue, and tied to the top of my truck, but I'm willing to make an exception," Gunn threatened.

Wesley laughed. "You wouldn't let me be seen in public in a certain pair of notorious striped swim shorts, but you want me to believe you'd paint me blue and enter me in the Local Gay Pride Parade?"

Gunn growled, while Angel put a frustrated hand on Wesley's arm. "At this point I'd enter you in the middle of Wal-Mart, Wesley."

Wesley turned to him, eyebrow raised. "You'd enter me in Wal-Mart?" He wouldn't even had had to use the suggestive tone of voice. The words did enough, and Angel's eyes went black and his mouth hung slightly open.

"I...yes." He stared at Wesley with his most determined 'I will fuck you now...if you'll just lean over' expression.

"The same Wal-Mart where you chastised me for stepping out of the dressing room with only a pair of trousers on?" The look on Angel's face now indicated that yes, not only would he enter Wesley in that Wal-Mart, he'd do it with the entire guest list for Xander and Spike's wedding standing about watching. He *might* even let Spike film it and sell it to the highest bidder. Though since Gunn would almost certainly be the highest bidder, that wasn't really much of a threat.

"The same Wal-Mart where you almost staked your own sick British child for pointing out that those trousers show off my arse quite nicely?" Angel didn't answer. He didn't look like he *could* answer. His eyes were completely black and he was staring at something. Probably a memory. Wes had purchased the trousers, though on a separate trip to the store.

"Can you two discuss this later?" Gunn interrupted. "I'm in some serious need, here."

Angel turned to him, and in a swift move was on his knees in front of him, swallowing the erection that had been begging for it since they'd arrived. Wes' eyes went wide as Gunn threw his head back and groaned appreciatively, grabbing onto Angel's shoulders to remain upright. Only a little jealous of the fact that Gunn was reaping the benefits of two and a half centuries of sucking practice, Wesley leaned back against the door. He kept his fingers resolutely away from his own fly, gripping the dildo tightly in both hands. The part of his brain that specialized in relaying messages from his cock pointed out that the dildo didn't appreciate it, and Wyndham-Pryce the Younger would, but he told it firmly to bog off.

At least he didn't have to watch, or control his increasingly disobedient fingers, for long. Gunn achieved his long-denied release with a shudder that rippled along his entire body, while Angel knelt there, amazingly patient. Or perhaps not-- Wesley could see the tiny tremors in Angel's back muscles, even through his shirt. He was almost as close to losing it as Gunn had been. Only his long experience of self-denial was keeping him under control.

Then he saw Angel lower his hand, and grasp himself. A few short, quick jerks and Angel was moaning, licking and sucking even harder, despite the fact that Gunn was dangerously close to collapsing in a satiated puddle on the floor. Angel spread his own release across the floor, and for a moment Wesley was distracted by the flicker of white-blue light that appeared, vanishing to leave behind a perfectly clean room. He had to find out where they got these spells. It would save *so* much on laundry.

Then he focused on his lovers, once more, and realized they were both now swaying, eyes closing, ready to curl up in a corner and sleep it off. He could almost sneak out without their noticing. They didn't, those two, *really* need him there. He watched them for a moment, then turned again. He could probably pick a few items for the grooms-to-be without an argument, if he had the aisles to himself.

One finger on the door handle, and no, he wasn't moving slowly so that they had a chance to catch him. If they wanted to avail themselves of it. He was merely trying not to make too much noise. Not to disturb them. He wasn't remotely relieved when he felt a hand on each of his shoulders.

"And where do you think you're going?"

"Shopping," he replied, matter-of-factly. Then he was being lifted into the air by one hand under each arm, and carried over to the bench. He managed to look startled, then the dildo was taken out of his hands and he was being placed on his back, and his legs were being lifted.

"Aren't you going to remove my trousers?" he asked.

Gunn smirked at him. "You think we've already forgotten you teasin' us? What comes around, Wes, goes around."

It occurred to him that his tormenting of his lovers just *might* have a drawback. Then there were fingers. Drawing things on him, through the fabric of his trousers. Gunn's fingers, because Angel's were firmly holding his legs up and out of the way. Invisible patterns that probably meant something to Gunn, although all they conveyed to Wesley was that it would be a damned long time before he pulled something as stupid as this again, if Gunn had anything to say about it.

Teasing. Almost tickling. Then it wasn't fingers, it was something harder. The silicone rod that Gunn had confiscated from him was now being used to systematically drive Wesley insane. He was considering the prudence of begging, swearing never to tease Gunn again -- thought he knew he'd be lying. Gunn would know, as well, and would just smirk at him and continue doing what he was doing. Setting his own pace, ignoring anything Wes did to get more....

He was already moving his hips, trying to thrust. Ready to come just thinking about it. A hand clamped down, and fingers pinched him. "What-!" Astonished, he looked down to see Gunn's fingers pinching his cock through his trousers -- pinching most cruelly. He moaned. "Please...."

"Yeah, that's real nice, Wesley. Very polite. Very gentlemanly. Keep it up." Gunn didn't move, just grinned at him with those very white teeth. He heard Angel laugh appreciatively from behind him.

"Bastard..." he muttered, unable to stop himself.

Gunn removed his hand entirely. "No, not nice. Bad little upper middle class English boy."

Wesley groaned again. When his head had cleared slightly, his bad little upper middle class education took over, and he tried not to grin. "Yes. Yes, terribly, terribly bad. I should be punished, really. Care to spank me?"

There was a noise that sounded suspiciously like a stifled laugh, from Angel. There was what was very definitely a stern glare from Gunn. "Somehow I don't think so." He traced one finger very lightly along the edge of Wesley's zipper. Wesley had to clench his jaw shut, to prevent himself from collapsing into begging, once more.

Gunn continued to almost-but-not-quite touch him for a few moments, then he turned to Angel. "Whadya think we oughta do to him?" Oh, wonderful. Leave it up to the one of them that still had a demon living inside him. A demon more or less limited to thinking up terrible things to do to the attention-deficit boys when they got on his nerves...and tormenting his lovers.

Angel was apparently thinking about it, so Wesley looked at Gunn, beseechingly. "Couldn't you just say I have to pay for their gifts? Tear my trousers off and have your way with me--"

"No, I don't think so," Angel interrupted. "I have a better idea." And the tone of his voice made Wesley ready to swear he would never, ever, mention going to Morrie's *or* Wal-Mart, again. "Gunn? How about you and I make use of that dildo. We know it fits *you*, but I'm thinking we should make sure it fits me."

Wesley was tempted to say something about there being no room, what with Angel's head stuffed up there, but wisely refrained from doing so. Of course, if Gunn were to let go of him to use the dildo on Angel, he could at least return to his shopping. Unsatisfied in more ways than one, probably, but it would be some sort of a victory.

Gunn frowned. Wesley could see the choices warring in his eyes. Give Angel pleasure and torment Wesley by denying it, at least until Wesley made his escape, or focus fully on the prisoner before him. Unless Angel had some diabolical plan in mind for allowing him to do both.

It seemed he did. Angel handed another small tube of lubricant to Gunn, then positioned himself over Wesley. Hands on Wesley's wrists, Angel loomed over him with a smile. His body held Wesley's legs in place, and though he could not see what Gunn was doing, he could certainly see the results. He squirmed, and discovered that Angel had not lost any of his vampiric strength.

"Ah, ah, Wes. You just lie there like a good boy."

"I thought Charles said I'd been bad," Wesley pointed out hopefully.

"Yeah, and now you're being punished." Gunn looked at him, over Angel's shoulder.

It was a strange sort of punishment. As Gunn did nicer things to Angel than Wesley had done to Gunn, Angel grinned down at him. Occasionally losing focus, but then the demon would appear again, only in Angel's eyes. A golden spark. And every so often, Angel would surge against him. Just a little. Just enough to let him know what he was missing.

He couldn't move. Not that he truly wanted to leave, not with Angel above him looking as fallen as any angel could possibly be. Not with Gunn behind Angel, peering over his shoulder every so often. To watch. To smile. He didn't want to leave. He just wanted to be part of it.

He wanted to reach up and at least hold onto Angel, as he moved. But his hands were held tight. Nor could he reach around with his legs, hold Angel by the waist, to feel him moving. All he had was his eyes and his ears, and his lovers made love...to each other. Then Angel closed his eyes, moaning softly, and he lost even that connection. Wesley peered over Angel's shoulder to find Gunn, head down and focusing on what he was doing. Whom he was doing.

Wesley closed his eyes. There was just sound now, and Angel didn't breathe, though he made low, soft sounds, almost sung, as if the only time he could stay in tune were during sex or when he was drunk enough to start in on "No, nay, never, no nay never, no more..." Just little Angel notes these were, to no particular song. They were comforting, in their way. Then they stopped.

*****