Night Breeze

By The Cipher Muse
12/8/00

Summary: Wesley inherits something.

Disclaimer: All these guys belong to Mutant Enemy, though if they were mine they would not die as often.

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Wesley has a ghostly lover. It soothes him on nights he has trouble sleeping. Restless, sweaty nights, haunted by images of demons refracted by his mind into thousands of menacing shadows. It satisfies him on nights when Angel haunts him with images of beauty and hopeless desire. Wakened by the noise of the traffic below him, tossing and turning in unfulfilled longing, he receives the benediction of touch. Fingers cool and invisible thread patterns of pleasure on the loom of his flesh. A mouth unseen but gracious weaves a blanket of warm satiation over his body until sleep is once more a possibility.

He believes this ghost came from Angel Investigations, followed him home one lonely evening. Sometimes after passionate explosion into a mouth which feels real in the dark, he dreams of a man with snowy white skin hollowed by ice-blue shadows. Dreaming, he caresses the thick dark hair and tastes the flushed lips, smiles into eyes of a hypnotically crystalline green. Wesley believes he knows the name of this ghost, with it's lilting language and it's sorrowful smile.

What he does not know and it never tells him is why. Why it comes to him, why it remains at all. It speaks to him in dreams, but only the soft speech of lovers. During the day he often senses a presence at his back, comforting. Once when Angel called him another's name he could have sworn he heard a gasp over the pounding of his wounded heart. That night soothing touches wiped away his tears and cool breath hitched a little even as it comforted him. Do ghosts breathe?
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Angel is watching something on the telly when Wesley enters the office. He moves quickly to shut it off but not before Wesley hears an intimately familiar voice. It hurts him that Angel tried to hide his attachment to the dead. He feels wounded and therefore both reckless and entitled . Still, he is surprised to hear his own voice.

"I know you miss him. I'm no substitute…"

Angel does not cut him off, too surprised at his insight. So he trails off, rather pathetically. Angel's face wrinkles and he eyes Wesley with a not unwelcome assessing gaze. Wes grasps the ego soothing straw of Angel's mystification as if it were a lifeline. And plunges forth, obscurely certain that Angel owes him some part of his grief.

"You can talk about him around me, you know. I realize he was special… Irreplaceable."

"Yes. He was." And Angel still wounds him despite Wesley's assertions. "But you *don't * know, Wesley, how could you know when you never met him?" So mild a tone, yet uncharacteristically cruel.

"I know you loved him."

Another assessing look, and the tension in the room has ratcheted up another several notches. The pain in Wesley's chest is a live thing now, a thing with claws and sharp teeth.

"You need me, you know?" and he didn't mean it to be a question, but it is.

Angel draws air into his stale lungs to sigh deeply. "I know." And then more kindly. "I know I need you, Wesley."

"He would want you to… to…" but here Wesley's courage fails him.

Another exhalation from the vampire, Angel is trying to hide his anger.

"To… move on? I know." There is no invitation in the words, the tone, or Angel's face, but Wesley feels a minute pressure on his back as if from a gentle hand. So he moves to Angel, and leans down, pulling his glasses off in a gesture lacking all subtlety. He half expects to be pushed away, but instead there are cool lips smooth and surprisingly soft beneath his. They part easily and he can't restrain his gasp of delight.

He wants to be smooth and seductive but instead the animal in his chest rampages out of control. His tongue devours Angel's salty mouth and his hands claw at Angel's clothes in a fever of impatience. Lessons learned in darkness from his greatest rival come into play as they tumble together onto the floor. His beloved is pleasingly submissive and weeps bloody tears which Wesley drinks as his due when they lie naked and writhing, both cocks clenched in Wesley's ungentle fist.

The sight of his master vulnerable beneath him, slicked in Wesley's own sweat brings on his climax far too quickly. When his shudders slow, Wesley slides down Angel's chest biting and sucking until he reaches the heavy object of his desire. Nights spent tasting without sight have given him technique and soon Angel is crying out another man's name in ecstasy.

Spent, Wesley lies upon Angel's chest, trying to regain his breath. The vampire has no such problem. Gently he enfolds Wesley in his arms, holding him while Wesley weeps in his turn. Angel's voice is hesitant when he speaks, but the passivity has passed.

"I'm sorry, Wes. He… it's like I'm betraying him."

He strokes Wesley's hair once more, and starts to move out from beneath him. But Wesley isn't letting him go. With what strength he has left, he holds Angel still while he raises himself up to look into the brown blurs he believes to be Angel's eyes.

"I know, Angel. I know *exactly * what you mean."

His sincerity must have reached his… lover, because Angel relaxes and allows Wesley to hold him tightly. A sigh both relieved and rueful breathes coolly across Wesley's back. He knows that his nights will be solitary again, but this moment with Angel is at least a beginning.

There is something damp on Wesley's back that feels like tears. Do ghosts cry?
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