Date: Mon, 12 Aug 2002 23:09:19 -0400
From: Steve Griffin <knack6@hotmail.com>
Subject: Angel's Investigations 7

"Angel" belongs to the WB and Greenwalt/Whedon/Mutant Enemy, among others. I
am making no profit, aside from the joy of feedback. Do not pass this around
or archive this without asking me first. Do not read this if you aren't over
18 or the age of majority in your area.

If you have ANY feedback, *please* e-mail me at knack6@hotmail.com

--

Another night of exhausting demon-killing had left Angel and his troupe,
well...exhausted. Cordelia had driven straight back to her apartment and
ghostly friend, while the men returned to the Hyperion. Gunn and Riley drank
a few beers, Gunn's hands accidentally rubbing Riley in all the wrong-right
places. Angel brooded, tried not to stare at Wesley, and went to bed.
Wesley, who had declined leaving the hotel, had spent all night sipping
sherry and reading his books, a prison he had been voluntarily admitting
himself to more and more frequently. Gunn had tried talking to him, but to
no avail. Too weary to drive back to his hovel of an apartment, Gunn planned
to sleep in one of the many vacant rooms.

"Come up later, it's 203," Gunn sensually whispered into Riley's ear. While
stomping up the stairs, Gunn turned around to mouth the word to an attentive
Riley one last time. Wesley also noticed, but both he and Riley remained
silent. Wesley due to a plan formulating, and Riley due to shuddering at the
sight of those thick lips and what he wanted to slide between them.

Riley stretched out on the leather sofa, the shiny material stuck on his
elbows. Angel's leather pants had the same texture. Riley had a strong bond
with Gunn, wanted to know Gunn better, but he still had such a deep lust for
Angel. A bloodlust. He couldn't get him out of his dreams, and every time
Angel mourned the loss of his latest love, Riley wanted to wrap his arms
around the vampire and make Angel forget Wesley ever existed. He also wanted
to share himself with Gunn, to fuck him into the carpet, but was that
because of Gunn or because of Forrest? At the moment, Riley's most pressing
concern was drowsiness.

Pensively, trying not to chew his lip, Wesley waited for Riley to accept or
deny Gunn's carnal invitation. Luckily, whatever intentions the youthful
soldier had were sidetracked by sleep. Riley planned to close his eyes only
for a moment, but the moments slowly built one upon the other. Wesley penned
a note, and when the fifteen-minute mark approached, crept up to room 203.

A lit candle in his hand and a butcher knife held behind his back, Wesley
approached the doorway. He glimpsed Gunn's expansive, smooth back and
shoulders, slick from a recent shower, contrasting starkly to the crisp
white sheets. His skin stretched tight against street-honed biceps, the
sheet riding down slightly, revealing the top of his deep crack and large,
muscular buttocks, Gunn was a vision. Such a vision that Wesley nearly
forgot his initial reasons for speaking to the man.

Clearing his throat to remind himself as much as Gunn, Wesley cautiously
crossed the threshold. Gunn's shoulders seemed to heave from relief as he
heard the second party joining him. He turned, expecting...

"Riley, is that you?"

Gunn's eyes widened as he realized this was clearly not Riley.

"Wes? This a three-way now?"

Wesley shook his head meekly, and joined his nude friend on the bed. Gunn
was confused as all hell, but he knew that Wesley would never behave this
brazenly if he were just asking for tea. Add in Wesley's weird behavior over
the past few days, and Gunn decided to be as polite as possible. Gunn sat up
against the pillows, arms folded his head, his coal-hued, bushy pubic hair
and flaccid 9 inches partially visible above the ever-lowering sheet. He
didn't even consider covering up. He had nothing to be ashamed of and lots
to be proud of.

Wesley would concur, if he were not so wrapped up in his own issues. With a
faint tremor, he placed the candle on the nightstand, and the knife near
Gunn's thigh. Gunn glanced down, agog, and cracked a half-serious joke.

"Holy shit, Wes! I thought you were kinky, but knife play?"

Wesley faintly smiled, looked down at the knife, knotted his trembling
fingers in his lap, tried to be as direct as possible.

"Every day, I wake up feeling that I am destined to commit a horrible crime,
but I have no idea of when, where, who. Every day, I feel that I need to
stop myself before I can do harm. I have spoken to telepathic demons, to a
hypnotherapist, to a bloody fortune teller, and they have told me nothing.
This is my last resort. I no longer trust my ability to..." Wesley paused,
willing his voice not to break, "commit suicide. I have attempted this and
have been unable to. I decided I would need your assistance in such a
thorough activity. I realize this is an unfortunate request to ask, but I
have left a very detailed note that should absolve you of criminal
responsibility."

Gunn's eyes bugged out yet again, his only reaction. Removing himself from
his sheet, he rose to his feet and began pacing, began rubbing his forehead.
Wesley blinked and tried not to notice the trivial things, like Gunn's
left-leaning nightstick and mushroom head, his huge thighs, his meaty
nipples hardening in the cool air. Time passed excruciatingly slowly for
Wesley, much too quickly for Gunn, millions of thoughts racing through
Gunn's mind.  Bewilderment, rage at Wes asking him to do this after Gunn had
to kill the girl he thought of as a sister, and finally, pity. Gunn kneeled
to his friend's waist, placed his large, compassionate hands on trouser
fabric. Stared into Wesley's bespectacled eyes and spoke as best he could.

"You need help. Not the kind you're askin' for. We never should've gone back
to working for Angel. He rots everything he touches. Even the most precious
gems in the world."

Crouching forward, he nuzzled Wesley's forehead, wrapping his arms around
his lean body to hug his traumas away. Scooping down to kiss Wesley's nose,
Gunn unbuttoned his tan dress shirt, smoothing over Wesley's pale pecs and
flat stomach, carressing his surgical scar of a few months ago.

"You already almost died once cause of me. Ain't gonna happen again,
English. You hear me?"

The concern dripped against Wesley's lips as easily as Gunn's salty sweat
dripped onto Wesley's neck and chest. Hating himself so much, wanting to be
out of his own skin, wanting to fall into the soulful eyes and soothing
voice of the incredibly arousing, fully naked man crouching beside him,
Wesley let his emotions dictate his actions. He closed the small space
between himself and Gunn, and joined his mouth and Gunn's. Gunn moaned
lightly from surprise, then nearly bit Wesley's tongue off when the
querrelous organ invaded his mouth. Pulling their lips apart, Gunn held back
a question. Was this right? Gunn had wanted Wesley since that first day in
the warehouse, but had given up pursuing him. If he turned Wes down, would
Wes kill himself? Why would he want to turn Wes down? What about Riley?
Riley hadn't shown up yet, did that mean his answer was no?

Puzzled at his equally puzzled friend, Wesley stared, trying to imagine what
he had done rong. Reading Wesley's thoughts, Gunn rubbed his shoulders,
carressed them, as he freed Wes from his shirt. He had made the decision,
what he hoped was the right decision.

"No need to go so fast. I've wanted this for over a year. How 'bout you? Did
you want me half as bad as I wanted you?"

Exploring Gunn's perfect torso with his soft fingers, Wesley meekly nodded.
So easy to forget, about Angel, about the dreams, about everything...

His shoes clumping off of his feet, Wesley stood up to unbuckle his
trousers. As he began lowering his fly, Gunn's large hands covered his,
halting him.

"Let me do that."

Gunn gently pushed Wesley flat on his back, Wesley's neck brushing against
the pillows as his socks were removed, as a long, wet tongue bathed his
soles, journeyed in the valleys between his toes, sucked on his big toe.
Wesley whimpered as he pictured that mouth on a larger and more excited part
of his body. His trousers went next, with Gunn sliding his rough palms up
Wesley's pale calves and trim thighs. The questing digits danced inside
Wesley's soaked boxer shorts, tickling his tightening testicles, yanking on
them slightly to jolt Wesley back into the moment. Finally, Wesley's
underwear, after a long sniff and taste by Gunn, joined his orphaned
garments on the floor, and Gunn stared appreciatively, lovingly at his
naked, live-wired friend. Wesley's heart fluttered with every peek at Gunn's
dirty grin, knowing the many things Gunn could do to his pliant, waiting
flesh.

Gunn kneeled at Wesley's toes and worked up Wes' body slowly, his nose, his
chest, his jutting cannon sliding up the pink skin stealthily. When their
faces reunited, their tongues reacquainted hungrily. Wesley sucked Gunn's
tongue needily, massaging the hard cheeks he so desperately yearned for.
Gunn grunted at the thumb circling and probing near his hole, and removed
Wesley's glasses. Wesley felt truly naked now, his most private areas
sensitive to the assured, erotic touches. Gunn's thumb glided down the
bridge of Wesley's nose, around his grey, blinking eyes. Their erections
duelled as insistently as their hands scavenged, Wesley's practiced sword
jabbing firmly at just the right spot in Gunn's low-hanging babymakers.

The warrior and the librarian, black and white, ready; they had been ready
for so long.  Wesley had never dared to admit this to Gunn, but he had
always yearned to be impaled by the large, dark shaft of a black man, to
give himself fully to the strong, primal African body. He had experienced
several black men, but few as proud, as commanding as Gunn. Gunn's chewy
nipple escaping his mouth, Wesley muttered for Gunn to "fuck me raw."
Surprised at Wesley's language, Gunn snickered, resting Wesley's legs onto
his broad shoulders.

"Want my big black dick up your tiny white ass, huh?"

Entranced by the determined, thick fingers digging into his crack and
tugging at his dark hairs hidden there, Wesley hazily nodded.

Gunn lunged forward, tongue brutally parting Wesley's firm mounds to fully
taste his new lover for the first time. Wesley silently screamed, pinching
his own erect nipples, his foot rubbing at Gunn's sweat-drenched backside.
The candle dripped as steadily as their precum, and Wesley grabbed the
object as he pumped his swollen cock, droplets of hot wax splattering on his
chest and sending him further into ectsasy.

This was going to be a long, active night. So busy were they that they never
noticed Riley walking in on them, Riley watching in disbelief and arousal,
Riley leaving a note and walking out the door. That would happen the next
day. For tonight, Wesley and Gunn only had each other's needs to worry
about.