Title: A Throe Upon the Features (Flagellum)
Author: Frog Fish
Email: frogfish.ish @ gmail.com
Rating: Suitable for mature audience only, due to graphic sexual
acts.
Fandom: Buffy, The Vampire Slayer; Angel, The Series
Pairings: Angel/Wesley
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel the Series,
characters, names and related indicia are trademarks of
Warner Bros and Mutant Enemy. They are used here for
entertainment purposes only.
Warnings: Slash. Rimming. Explicit sex. Language. Angst. ANGST.
Status: Complete
Spoilers: Through AtS, Season 1. Or 2. Definitely early Wes.
Takes place in a nebulous void of cannon timelines.
Archive: If you'd like to archive this fic, please e-mail the
author.
Website: http://www.geocities.com/nonexistent_virtually,
http://www.livejournal.com/users/frog_fish,
http://www.fanfiction.net/~goddessblue

Notes: Title from Emily Dickinson. Angst. Happy ending-less. You
have been WARNED. Also, pathetically short. Eh.

Summary: Wesley's not cursed. At least, not literally.




If Wesley were the type of person who could make love without
falling into it, then this might be the perfect situation.

Angel is a far more attractive man than Wesley is used to having
in his bed, and deliciously experienced besides. Every
touch given to him is practiced and sure, every kiss is dropped
only where it leaves him wanting more.

This could be exactly what he needs to distract himself from the
temptation of wanting things that he can't have. All he
has to do is convince himself that the rush of emotion he feels
when Angel glances at him from across the office is the
same as the rush of lust that he feels when Angel's tongue
slides into his ear and his voice--

"Mmmph... good morning."

Yes. Rough with sleep like that. Angel's teeth nip at his
earlobe before the vampire settles into his neck and takes a
deeply unneeded breath. "Good morning."

"Your pulse is racing," Angel muses against his skin.

Wesley shifts enough to find that he's trapped in Angel's arms.
He isn't quite sure when they slid around his waist,
because the last time he'd looked Angel was cuddling his pillow
and facing the opposite wall in some kind of cruel
reminder that his desire for Wesley is purely superficial.

It's not about love, and Wesley has known that for sure since
the third time they'd had sex and Angel hadn't woken up
the next morning in a hurry to kill him. Angelus must be a
panting breath on the back of Angel's neck, so it's likely that

Angel is here because he's convinced that Wesley is safe.

Which doesn't hurt. Not enough to keep Wesley from wanting this,
however he can have it.

He shifts again and presses his buttocks into Angel's groin,
surprising a pleased noise out of the vampire. Wesley
tosses his head back, and then immediately snaps it forward when
it cracks against Angel's skull.

"Ow." Angel stops kissing him, and Wesley cringes in
embarrassment. There's probably a reason why he doesn't get
lucky quite so often. Angel waits, breathing through his nose
for no reason that Wesley can discern, and then drops a
kiss on his shoulder. "Why don't you just... let me?" It's
hesitant, and Wesley is rather certain that he is impressing no
one with his style and technique this morning.

At least Angel's still /there/, which means that he's doing
better than he usually does.

There's another kiss behind his ear, and Angel's hands find
Wesley's hips. He pulls him back against an impressive

erection and rubs until Wesley's pulse picks up. Angel seems
drawn to it. Wesley can sense Angel hover over his
carotid artery. He can practically feel Angel staring at it.

Angel presses into him until Wesley whines and thanks every
deity he's faintly acquainted with that they're already
naked. The hand on his hip slides down into the sheets pooling
around his waist and takes hold of Wesley's dick in a
grip that is tight enough to be just the right side of painful.

"What were you thinking about?"

Angel always seems fascinated with how quickly his touch will
bring Wesley to a begging point. Wesley's not sure if
he's concluded that it's because he likes to be touched, or
because he likes to be touched by Angel.

It would shed far too pathetic a light on himself if Wesley told
the truth, so he pretends he hasn't heard a thing.

Angel doesn't seem to notice, anyway. "Where's the lube?"

Lubrication. Wesley's eyes snap open and he searches what he can
see of his bedroom frantically, "You had it last."

Angel hums into his neck, where he's given up pretending that
he's not a vampire and has taken to licking and nipping
the flesh that separates Wesley from certain death. He seems
less concerned at their lack of preparation than Wesley
is. It's possible that this is because he's not the one who's
going to feel it if they go ahead without the lube. It's also
possible that Angel doesn't care if he fucks Wesley or not.

This is not to be stood.

Wesley doesn't have Angel's patience, and he actually does care
whether he gets fucked. It doesn't help that he
doesn't actually know where the lube is, and isn't entirely
certain that there's anything left in the much-abused tube
anyway. He has an alternate plan, in case of just such an
emergency.

He's distracted from his plotting by the feel of Angel shifting
against him and letting him go just long enough to slide
against him. He's gently pushed onto his face. Angel kisses his
back, along the spine. Every kiss speeds the flush of
want across his body. His fingers are tingling and twisting in
the sheets.

"Angel," he breathes into his pillow, and he's sure that it
sounds like a prayer. "Oh," Angel's begun to lick
open-mouthed kisses along his skin, biting every time Wesley
thinks he might catch his breath. "Oh, dear."

Angel smirks into his skin. Wesley can feel it, but he doesn't
care. He wishes Angel were kissing his mouth. He wishes

Angel were holding his hand. He wishes he could do this without
wishing.

Angel's chin is now nestled at the top of Wesley's posterior,
and Angel's tongue is circling wetly on the small of his
back. Dipping lower and oh. Angel's nose is pressed into a place
Wesley's not sure he'd want to find himself smelling,
and Angel is taking a deep breath.

Angel is growling.

Wesley cannot help it when his hips move to press himself into
the bedsheets, and it's so sweetly tempting that he
finds himself pressing his face even more firmly into the pillow
and wailing.

Angel's fingers slide down his back, stopping to rub soothing
circles every few inches. Angel's thumbs press against the
curve of his flesh and pull him apart, and it's entirely
possible that Wesley isn't the only one who had an alternate
plan, in case they ran out of lube.

When Angel's tongue presses flat against the top curve of his
entrance, Wesley has to bite back a moan and think very
deeply about the many un-sexy ways it is possible to kill a
Richnar demon.

He slides a hand up off of the sheets and covers his own mouth
and thanks God for it when Angel stops teasing and

slides the slick muscle of his tongue into Wesley. He can feel
how messy it must be getting for Angel. It seems as
though the vampire is shoving saliva into him by the mouthful,
tongue seesawing into him against his sensitive skin.

He bites the palm of his hand and makes very undignified noises
which seem to please Angel who fucks him faster.

With his /tongue./

Wesley's other hand flattens against the sheets and slides down,
entirely without his permission, to wrap around his

dick. He presses back against Angel's mouth and whimpers because
Angel is showing no signs of wanting to move any time soon.

It's a shock when Angel's face transforms against him, a fang
scraping dangerously against some rather sensitive flesh.

It's such a shock that Wesley is trailing pre-come the way Angel
is trailing saliva, and he has to grip himself more
tightly than he'd like to keep himself from coming.

"A--are you trying to kill me, Angel?" He pants when he thinks
he can speak without babbling.

Angel rears back from him and Wesley realizes with some surprise
that he's panting harshly as well. "What?"

"Are you... never mind. You seemed to be enjoying that, but I
rather think we shouldn't wait any longer."

Angel's completely silent behind him, and Wesley can almost feel
the heavy gaze of a startled vampire. Angel's hands
on his hips are gentle when they're finally there. "Sit up,"
Angel's voice is low and commanding, and Wesley whimpers
even as he does what he's told. Moving when he's this hard is
painful, but he grits his teeth and does it anyway, until
he's being guided into Angel's lap.

Those thumbs are back, pressing him open, and it's a relief to
feel the blunt press of Angel's cock against him.

It isn't proper lubrication, so when he sits back, he does so
very slowly.

Angel's face--it's human again, Wesley can tell by the lack of
fangs and ridges--is pressed into his hair. Angel's
unneeded breath is stirring the flesh of his neck into a forest
of goosebumps, and it's like an answer to every perverted
adolescent question he'd ever studiously not asked his father.

Wesley's the one who stops breathing first. He's holding it all
in as he slides slowly down around Angel. It's never been
like this. Not this deep. Angel's grip on him now is painfully
supportive, as if Angel couldn't stand it if Wesley covered
him any more quickly anyway.

It seems like forever before his thighs meet Angel's, but it's
probably only been a minute or so. Wesley is groaning
lowly, and Angel has buried his face in Wesley's neck and is
mouthing his pulse wetly. Blunt, human teeth are scraping
against his skin, and it's vaguely unsettling. Angel thrusts
upward as Wesley settles and they both moan.

Angel lifts him and Wesley bites at his lip because no one can
see him do it. He makes a noise that probably isn't
attractive at all, even if it's full of every need he's ever
felt at Angel's hands. Angel lets go of him, and Wesley can't
stop himself from slamming back into the vampire and cursing in
a language normal people don't speak in such
situations.

Angel's hands have slid around to Wesley's lap and now he is...
licking his ear again and wrapping Wesley tightly into
him. They're moving in opposition to each other, and it's making
Wesley flush hot and cold all over. Angel is jerking
him slowly enough that Wesley is frustrated by it, but he's
helpless in Angel's grip and finds himself moving at the
same speed.

They're torturing each other.

Angel is making odd noises into his throat, and Wesley has his
eyes clenched shut so tightly that he may never get
them open again. He carefully lets his head fall back into the
crook of Angel's neck until his mouth his dragging along

Angel's cheek. Angel shifts his whole body to kiss him and
suddenly there's light and sensation along Wesley's eyelids

and he isn't sure if it's from Angel's kiss or the fact that
they've finally gotten into the perfect position for Angel's
cock to slide against his prostate.

Either way, he's moaning and panting in Angel's mouth like a
whore, which doesn't seem to bother Angel. They're
moving faster now, and Angel's hand on him is tighter at the
same time as Angel's hips against his are faster. Angel's
saying something into Wesley's mouth, and Wesley has no idea
what it is because he's busy trying to get Angel's tongue to do
other things.

Angel whips his head back and Wesley opens his eyes and his
mouth to complain and everything freezes because Angel
is looking at him... staring at him wildly. It's heavy like...

"No," he moans, and Angel growls and lunges forward to kiss him
again. They're slamming against each other now, and
the litany in Wesley's head says no right up until it says yes.
And then it says nothing, because Wesley is coming, and
he's digging his fingers into Angel's hips and holding him there
until Angel can only jab into him shortly and harshly.

And then Angel is coming, too. Angel is whispering, "No."

And falling is almost like dying.

Wesley comes back to himself moments later. His face is pressed
into the cool cotton pillow-case. Angel's face is
pressed into his neck, and they're both still shuddering.
Angel's hands are rubbing Wesley's skin, trying to warm him
and rid him of the goosebumps that have spread all over his
body.

"Angel..."

Angel tenses against him, and pulls out, and Wesley winces and
wishes they'd looked for the lube after all.

"I think I'd better go."

Wesley refuses to look up. He sighs into his pillow, and grips
it tightly because it's not going to get up in a moment

and leave. Angel's hand ghosts over his hip, and a kiss is
pressed into his shoulder, and he can't let that be the last
one.

He's standing before Angel realizes he's even moving, and he's
sliding his arms over Angel's shoulders before Angel can
stop him. "You're not going to come back, are you?"

Angel's hands wrap around his elbows, and he looks like the most
miserable soul that ever didn't live. "I don't think it
would be a good idea."

And then Angel's hand slides up his arm and up his neck and into
his hair, and Wesley is being kissed with a gentle

softness that confirms the look he was almost sure he saw in
Angel's eyes before. It's deep and slow, and Wesley
melts into it because he knows it's never going to happen again.

Angel finally, reluctantly, pulls back, and Wesley can't meet
his eyes. The vampire sighs and kisses his forehead before
pulling away and beginning the search for his clothes. Wesley
closes his eyes and listens until all the rustling is done
before he opens them again. Angel is already across the room,
looking back at him.

There's an awkward silence before Angel sighs and looks down at
his shoes, "I'll see you at the office."

Wesley winces, "Yes."

His bedroom door closes behind Angel, and then so does the
apartment door. There's a sewer entrance around the back
of the complex, and Wesley just stares at his bed.

Fin