Date: Tue, 05 Mar 2002 15:43:15 -0500
From: Steve Griffin <knack6@hotmail.com>
Subject: Angel's Investigations

This story belongs to me, but these characters don't; sadly, the ever-sexy
David Boreanaz and Alexis Denisof also do not. The whole shebang belongs to
Joss Whedon, David Greenwalt, and Mutant Enemy and Kuzui Productions and Fox
and the WB. I'm making no profit here, not even a few pennies. My only
profit is reader satisfaction. If you are under 18 or the age of consent in
your area, you should not read this.

This is set during last season, before all the mess with the baby and
Cordelia/Angel. I hope you enjoy.


Angel had watched Wesley make several trips to the liquor cabinet as the
night passed. The last few months of losing his girlfriend, being shot,
being paralyzed, and Angel unofficially resuming his role as leader of their
private investigation firm had taken their toll.

As grudging allies back in Sunnydale, Angel had seen Wesley as an
incompetent dictator with irritating, clipped British tones. As friends here
in LA, Angel had long appreciated Wesley for his quiet determination in
battle, his vast knowledge of languages and spells. He was the backbone of
their team.

Wesley starchly stood, posture intact, walking to a nearby decanter for
another helping of wine, and Angel thought of the Wesley Wyndham-Price
attributes too few noticed. His shy smile, growing self-consciously broad
when met with praise. His nimble, elegant fingers, fingers on hands still
soft to the touch no matter how many demons they faced. His lean, lithe
body, maintained through the rigor of their daily turmoils.

Angel had seen many hot bodies, in various states of dress and mortality,
and knew enough to not make choices based on such superficiality. He was
more attracted to Wesley's intellect, to Wesley's sly humor, to...well, the
tight ass was a factor as well. He knew Wesley was attracted to him too, a
simmering, puppy-dog adoration that had become an unspoken barrier in their
friendship months ago.

And now his former friend was on his third scotch on the rocks, probably
unable to handle a fourth. Angel quietly stepped into Wesley's office,
tapping on the door as he did.

"Can I come in?", he said, his head cocked to the side.

Wesley smiled faintly, as if he had to slay dragons to move his mouth
muscles.

"I'm surprised you bothered to ask", he sighed more than spoke.

Taking a few nervous footfalls into the dimly lit room, Angel leaned against
Wesley's cluttered desk.

"What is it that you want?"

Pursed lips, sad crystalline eyes shining dully through Wesley's glasses.

"I want us to be friends again. Remember? Pals? Compadres?"

Wesley...smirked.

"Friends. Of course."

Now Angel sighed.

"Seriously."

A bitter laugh emerged from Wesley's brown-shirted chest as he laid his pen
beside his notepad, half-full with a random translation.

"When are we not serious, Angel? Was that when you decided to become happy,
after abandoning Cordelia and Gunn and countless victims because you didn't
feel especially heroic? Is that how this works? Please, tell me how to
behave to fit your standards. I gave up understanding the Angel codex
when..."

Wesley stopped himself in mid-sentence, swallowing a lump in his throat
which reminded him he had always been a melancholy drunk. Suddenly, he felt
Angel's hands on his shoulders, Angel's crotch behind his head, and quickly
drowned in a wave of guilt-ridden desire.

"When I broke your heart."

Squinting his eyes shut to try and block the softly-spoken words from his
mind, Wesley jerked out of Angel's grasp.

"No, when you betrayed my trust. Now please, leave me alone."

"Wes..."

"I said leave me alone!"

Wesley stormed from the room with Angel quickly behind him, footsteps muted
by the carpeting in the wide lobby. As Wesley neared the staircase, trying
to go anywhere to get away, Angel grabbed his arm.

"Let go of my arm."

Ignoring the muted anger in Wesley's steely voice, Angel pinned him to the
wall, their chests pressed together. Wesley averted his eyes from the
laserlike stare.

"Wesley. Wes, just tell me your problems. Tell me anything."

Struggling in Angel's arms, a shot of liquid courage soared through Wesley's
veins as Angel shook him. He violently shoved Angel away, Angel toppling
against the bottom stairs.

Wesley shook his head, trying to clear his cobwebbed mind, but he had
nothing but pain, nothing to give or debate.

"I..."

No. No more lies, no more protecting-humanity secrets.

"I loved you. I loved you, I wanted you, and I could never have you. Yet, I
accepted this tro...tom...damn...pain, supported your quest even when YOU no
longer seemed to care. You betrayed that, you betrayed my devotion for an
obsession with darkness."

Angel refused to look at him now, wearing a dejected expression, not shock
or disgust. Catching his breath from the long-winded speech, Wesley nearly
began again when Angel lifted his head from falling against his chest.

"I know that was wrong now. I'm sorry. I - "

A fit of rage enveloping his entire frame, Wesley kicked at Angel, hating
this place, himself, the man sitting below him, superior as always.

"You're sorry? That makes everything better, hmm?"

Fumbling with the buttons, Wesley removed his shirt, draping it across the
bannister as he ran a trembling hand across his flat stomach.

"Make this better, Angel."

Leaning forward from his perch on the stairs, Angel tentatively touched the
deep surgical scar, Wesley's flinching from the cold fingers showing Angel
what his reaction, his pain must have been when he was shot by the zombie
cops. So much pain in such a short life, so little pleasure. Angel knew what
he had to do. No, what he wanted to do.

Shifting his hand, Angel grabbed and tugged Wesley by the belt buckle,
catching the unsteady man in his arms, carressing his rigid back.

"I'm sorry. That's all I can say. I can show you how much I..."

Wesley pushed against Angel's massive chest, trying to break away even as
water flooded his eyes.

"Pity me?"

Shaking his head, Angel bent his head down, licking a salty tear from
Wesley's cheek, softly whispering in his ear.

"Love you."

Wesley shuddered, more comfortable, nearly helpless, in Angel's arms,
letting the stronger man kiss his neck and face. He had always wondered what
it would be like, being taken by Angel, but the consequences...Angel's curse
made happiness impossible...

As Wesley began to squirm, Angel cupped his trouser-encased crotch, biting
the lobe caught between his sharp teeth, growling in Wesley's ear.

"Wesley...fuck the consequences."

Slowly, Wesley nodded, whimpering as Angel suckled his neck, traced his huge
hands across sensitive, small pink nipples. He ran his hands across Angel's
muscled torso, Angel biting at Wesley's chin, nipping his lower lip until
the skin was pouty and flustered from attention. A skilled tongue invading,
exploring his mouth, Wesley ripped open Angel's black shirt, buttons flying
across the stairs and clattering to the floor.

Angel chuckled as his hand explored the contents of Wesley's now-unzipped
pants. Grunting, Wesley shifted, unfastening his belt as Angel freed the
hardening prick, lips returning to Wesley's chest to tease his inflamed
nubs.

The staircase seemed cramped, anyone could walk in the front door, yet
Wesley complied when Angel laid him on the stairs, yanking down the
obstructive trousers and white briefs as he dipped his head down, scratching
and kneading Wesley's tight ball sac as his tongue traced along the purple
veins of Wesley's 7 inch, cut staff.

"You're circumcised?"

Wesley looked down hazily at the large figure nipping at the root of his
shaft, gliding his tongue up to tease the piss slit and scar of
circumcision.

"unnnnhh....health...reasons....oh Gooooodd...."

Angel smiled wickedly as he flicked his tongue inside the slit, spreading
Wesley's legs to reveal his leanly muscled thighs. Unzipping his slacks,
Angel freed himself even as he slid his thumb outside Wesley's tight,
puckering anus ring.

"Been a while, huh Wes?"

He laughed as Wesley gasped from the pressure and pleasure, blushing at the
memories of Rupert Giles's thick slab of meat invading him over and over,
making him beg for more as Wesley's hands remained handcuffed against onto
the headboard, Rupert refusing to milk his submissive's enraged, engorged
cock...

"Yes, a while." Wesley whispered as he cleared his head, Angel running his
fat, uncut monster against Wesley's thigh, precum pooling into the hairs on
his legs.

Wesley wasn't sure whether to gasp over the muscles of Angel's thighs, the
skill of the fingers pushing in and out of his rectum, or the satisfied
smirk on his face as he began sliding the foreskin of his 9-inch penis over
Wesley's twitching erection.

Leaning closer above him, Angel covered the entire head of Wesley's penis
with the fleshy sheath, both men moaning at the cocoon, Wesley startled at
the sounds from his mouth as Angel licked the sweat from his arms, traveling
lower to taste and smell the musk of his armpits, still sliding up and down,
up and down on Wesley's imprisoned sword. As he panted, head shifting from
side to side at the fingers in his arse, the stimulation to his sheened
body, the foreskin, the hunk of his fantasies towering over him, watching
his every motion, Angel lurched forward, tongue wet in Wesley's ear.

"Cum for Daddy."

Wesley quietly exploded, losing all oxygen supply as his brain disconnected,
his mind tripping over untold galaxies as his ejaculating penis jerked,
shooting stream after stream into the tight cage of Angel's horse flesh.
Angel matched Wesley's soft moans with louder yells, continuing to pump
Wesley's convulsing body as their semen joined, both men producing load
after load until they collapsed in each other's arms.

Angel licked the perspiration from Wesley's forehead.

Wesley wearily sighed, almost fearful. Angel had to laugh.

"Guess what baby?"

Apprehensive of the maniacal gleam in Angel's eyes, Wesley paused before
taking another breath.

"I'm not Angelus! I'm still me."

Wesley released a relieved breath, as happy as he had ever been in his whole
life. After several minutes of silence, he whispered into the arm cradling
him.

"That was..."

Angel placed a thumb against his lips, which Wesley couldn't help biting.

"Don't talk when your mouth's full."

"What?"

Disconnecting their cocks with a gooey sound, Angel moved his flaccid organ
up Wesley's exhausted, taut body, cum slobbering onto his torso, neck, and
chin until the life juices dribbled above Wesley's face. Feeling the
droplets hit his glasses - how he had kept his glasses on so long without
breaking them was a mystery - and cheeks, Wesley lifted his head up, chewing
and exploring the sensitive folds as Angel held his head, fingers stroking
his hair as he purred approvingly, free hand pumping the remains of the load
from Wesley's spent cock, moving into his torn shirt and sliding the sperm
onto his own quarter-sized nipples, erect from the chill in the room.

Eventually, Angel could take no more of the pain/pleasure and tenderly took
Wesley's head into his hands. Wesley sighed, licking Angel's sticky fingers
as his head pressed against Angel's chest. Putting his ear where the
heartbeat wouldn't be, Wesley lazily kissed the broad pecs of one of the
finest specimens of man he had ever encountered, until sleep finally
overtook him.

Angel smiled down at his new lover, at both of their brief moments of joy in
this life. Then he carried him to his bed - their bed - and joined him in
his sated, blissful sleep.

--

I will make this a series if there's a strong response. Any story ideas?
Want any appearances by Gunn, Doyle, Lindsey, Lorne, anyone from Buffy? Any
comments at all?