† The Brat Queen †

Disclaimer: The following is a non-profit, amateur effort not intended to infringe of the rights of Joss Whedon, the WB, Mutant Enemy or any other copyright holders of Angel.

A Night
by The Brat Queen

Spoilers: Up to Epiphany, after which Joss and I go separate ways.

Rated: NC17

Summary: Angel and Wesley spend the night together. It's sometimes pleasant.

The feeling of Angel's erection against his thigh was maddening, but it was a madness Wesley knew he could live with.

They were tangled together in Wesley's bed, their bodies both warm and sweat-covered - a happy aftereffect of the hot shower Angel had insisted upon taking.

Showering and then making love had seemed to be the entirely wrong order of events, but Wesley knew not to question Angel's methods. Angel might not have had sex in one hundred years, but he still remembered the way of it.

Particularly the way to please a mortal boyfriend.

"Feel good, Wes," Angel murmured, his voice the only sound in the room besides Wesley's breathing. Angel's hand slid down his chest, his watchband tickling the fine scattering of hair. With strong fingers Angel rubbed at Wesley's nipple, darkening and raising it. "You feel real good."

A handful of replies occurred to him - Angel felt good too, Wesley was glad, the sensation was wonderful, don't stop - but in the end even Wesley knew when to forgo speech and answered, instead, with a kiss.

Angel growled with approval. Again there was that maddening sensation near his thigh. "Feel real good, Wes," Angel said, never one for new words when the ones he'd already chosen suited his purpose just fine. His hand slid down, cupping Wesley's hip and drawing him closer, rocking their bodies together in an easy, lazy motion. "Love you."

"Love you too," the answer was automatic and just as pleasurable as the touch. "God I love you, Angel."

His reward was another kiss. Angel's tongue claimed his mouth perfectly.

"Do anything for you," Wesley added. He nibbled at Angel's lips, not even caring what words came from his own mouth. "Anything."

"Good," the hand on his hip moved inward. Wesley felt himself responding even before the promised caress began. "Want you."

Take me Wesley thought, but didn't have to say the words aloud. His body answered for him. Angel handled him with a skill borne of months of practice. Wesley's pulse quickened, and the ability to speak became lost in a shudder of quick gasps.

"Wesley," Angel said. He leaned in to whisper against his ear, his lips brushing at the delicate skin behind it. "Wes…"

"Angel," Wesley sighed. He wrapped his arms around Angel's shoulders, feeling the rock like muscles beneath. He repeated himself, wanting to always be able to say his lover's name. "Angel."

Wesley could feel Angel smile against him. "Love you too, Wes." Angel's mouth moved lower, tracing the curves of Wesley's neck with lips and tongue. "Need you."

"Yours," Wesley promised. A moan escaped him as the pace of Angel's hand changed. Wesley clutched Angel's back, digging in with fingernails that he really didn't have. "Entirely yours."

Angel pressed his lips down, sucking at the hollow where neck met jaw. "Wes," he said again, his eyes hazy. "God, Wesley."

Wesley pressed against him, enjoying the thrill of Angel holding him down in response. "Yours, Angel. Please."

"Like that," Angel said. He kissed his neck again. "'Please'."

"Please," Wesley replied at once. He wasn't sure what he was asking for and neither did he care. "Please, Angel. Please."

Angel hummed in pleasure, nuzzling him. "Nice, Wesley. Real - real nice." The nuzzling became firmer, and Angel's hand gripped him tighter. "I -"

And then Angel froze.

"What?" Wesley asked.

"No," Angel sat up, releasing Wesley as he turned away. "No."

Cool air swirled over him in the void that Angel created. Wesley reached out, trying to touch him. "Angel?"

Angel jerked as though stunned. "No!"

And that's when Wesley saw it.

Angel had gone into vamp face.

"Angel," Wesley whispered. No other words came to him.

"I have to go," Angel stood, moving about as though drunk. "I - I have to -"

"Don't leave," Wesley begged, knowing he'd been reduced to it and not caring in the slightest that he had. "Angel, don't -"

But Angel had already gone, vanishing out of the bedroom and presumably in search of his clothes.

"Damn you!" Wesley got out of bed, throwing on his own robe and racing after him. "Angel, don't you dare."

"Wesley, stay away from me!" Angel had ended up in the living room. "I'm warning you!"

"Or what?" Wesley asked. When Angel didn't respond Wesley grabbed the first thing at hand - a ceremonial Staschan dagger which he normally used for a paperweight - and threw it deftly into the wall beside Angel's head.

Angel stared at it.

"I could get a stake, if that's going to be your preference," Wesley said. He felt his robe begin to slip open and tied it closed in a sharp double knot. "Or you could speak to me instead."

The blue of Angel's tattoo seemed to glow in the moonlight. Angel kept his back to Wesley, still looking at the wall. "Wes -"

"Talk to me," Wesley said. "I have been through too bloody much for you to ignore me." There was more. He felt himself quite ready to add "And I am not some silly high school girl." but bit down on it. He desperately wanted the knife to be the only cutting thing he threw at Angel's head that night.

"Ignore you?" Angel had at last spotted his coat, but moved toward it uselessly. The rest of his clothes were still in the bathroom - a fact Angel had apparently forgotten and which Wesley felt no need to remind him of. "I'm not ignoring you, Wesley! That's the entire fucking problem!"

"Then tell me what is."

Angel looked at him, letting the fire of emotion inside of his golden eyes supply the answer.

"You're a vampire," Wesley replied. He clutched at the front of his robe. "What shocking news. Of course I was completely unaware of that as I have been brain dead since the age of three!"

"I nearly drank from you, Wesley," Angel snapped back. "That shocking enough?"

"But you didn't," Wesley said. "You stopped. You came here. We're having this conversation -"

"No, you're having this conversation."

The rejection was like a slap across the face, but Wesley supposed throwing a dagger at your lover could feel like that too. "I'm not dead."

Now Angel truly turned, facing him with a mouth warped by fangs. "You could be."

"You wouldn't."

"I can hear your heart, Wesley," Angel said, moving forward. Shadows slid across the muscles of his body as he crossed the living room floor. "Nice and strong. You know what I used to do to guys like you?"

"Killed them," Wesley said, flatly. "I know."

"Do ya?"

"Yes," Wesley longed for something else to throw. "I know the history of Angelus - you - better than I know myself. I wrote a bloody thesis on you for the damned Watcher's Council! I know that I would be dead, or tortured or worse by now - long before now, even. But that isn't you! Because if it was you would have drunk from me and - and you wouldn't be pratting about stark naked talking to me about it!"

The silence felt clammy.

"Is it a stake, then?" Wesley looked around, his eyes not as sharp in the moonlight without his glasses. He spied something on his bookshelf and went to take it. "Because if it is -"

Angel was behind him at once, his hand covering Wesley's and holding it still. "Wes - that's your model boat."

Wesley blinked. Now that the item had been labeled, the faint blur faded away and shaped itself into the form of a miniature Santa Maria and not, as he'd thought, a wooden fertility symbol with a sharp enough point at the end.

Wesley also knew, without turning around, that Angel's face had changed.

"I could still hit you over the head with it," Wesley said. He remained still, his eyes following the delicate lines of thread which supported the ship's tiny sails. He suddenly felt small himself - keenly aware of how slight he was compared to Angel's solid form.

Angel's nose pressed into his hair. Wesley felt the strange not-breath that came when a vampire took in a scent. "It's not in a bottle," Angel said, his voice his own again and not thick from fangs. "Wouldn't hurt."

"Would if I stabbed the bloody prow into your eye," Wesley muttered.

Angel's response was to circle his arms around Wesley's chest, resting his forehead by his ear.

Again words came to Wesley - it's all right, the moment's passed, Angel I still trust you - and again Wesley knew when it was best to keep entirely quiet and answer his lover with a kiss.

A jolt went through Angel's body at the touch, but he responded at once. Pulling Wesley away from the bookshelf, he took hold of Wesley's robe, opening it with a quick jerk. When the belt Wesley tightened did not give way, Angel removed it with a snap of tearing fabric.

"Angel…" Wesley breathed. He felt his heart pounding in his chest.

Angel responded with a kiss, then pushed Wesley back against the wall. Holding Wesley there with both hands, Angel knelt, giving no preamble before taking Wesley's stiffening erection into his mouth and sucking it down.

Wesley moaned, immediately lost in the sensation. Angel's tongue swirled underneath him, and there was little hint of teeth or fangs as Angel's amazingly soft lips massaged the heated flesh. The already hazy evening vanished as Wesley's brain concentrated on nothing but Angel's hard hands against his body, and the insane pleasure of Angel's mouth.

Angel groaned, sending vibrations throughout Wesley's cock and body. Wesley cried out, clutching at Angel's hair and enjoying the sudden mental image of taking Angel's hair, commanding it, controlling the rhythm that his lover used to please him, taking charge and fucking Angel as he knelt on his knees like this -

And the sensation was too much and Wesley came, jerking his hips into Angel's eager kiss until his body relaxed, and his mind cleared, and he realized Angel was still there with him, kissing his stomach softly.

"Love you, Wes," Angel said. He looked up, rubbing his cheek against Wesley's hand. "Love you."

"I know," Wesley replied, his voice mumbled. "I know."

Angel stood, holding Wesley in a tight embrace. Wesley returned it, touching him soothingly, glad when he could find no trace of Angel's earlier fears.

"Wanna go to bed?" Angel asked. His brown eyes held the promise of further wonderful activity.

Wesley kissed him, doing what he could to take in Angel's scent as well, though he never understood how such a thing was as uniquely pleasurable as Angel found it. "Yes," he replied. "But in a moment?" Off of Angel's quizzical look he explained. "Some of us have mortal needs."

Angel nodded. "Meet you there," he said, giving Wesley's cheek a parting caress before disappearing back into the bedroom.

Wesley watched him, going over to the other side of the room as he did to retrieve the thrown dagger. Holding his robe closed, he returned the dagger to its place on his desk, picked up his now ruined belt, and made his way to the bathroom.

The room was still sloppy with the remnants of their earlier shower. Wesley pulled the curtain closed, shaking it to make sure it would air out properly. He picked up the wet towels and placed them in the hamper. Then he took Angel's shirt and hung it off of a hook on the back of the door, seeing no other place to put the garment that wouldn't make it wetter or more wrinkled than it already was.

That taken care of, Wesley closed the door, locking it automatically, and flicked on the mirror light to illuminate the room.

Only then did he allow himself to sit down on the edge of the toilet, put his head in his hands, and tremble.

-Fin-

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