Angel / Protocol / Part Fifteen

PART FIFTEEN

When Wesley woke Angel was holding him.

Wesley lay still, and thought about that.

He was awake, and his *husband* was holding him.

Yes, interesting reaction there. Constriction of the heart, twitching of the stomach. Not unpleasant but not - Wesley couldn't help but smile a little - entirely orgasmic either.

Yet there it was.

He'd been told about such things, of course. Centuries of spouses being sent all over the world to act as reward, collateral, or both on behalf of the Council meant that after a while they did start to notice certain patterns emerging. It was something taught about, planned for. The period of adjustment was a thing that was spoken of near the end of one's education. It was considered too advanced for the children to understand.

Obviously love potions made the entire thing moot, but in the absence of taking them things did still settle down. One had to deal with change, with new people, with homesickness, and with the utter shift in one's reality.

None prior to Wesley had to add "married to a vampire" into their list of things to adjust to, but Wesley supposed it could be considered part and parcel of the whole. All new marriages were alien, in their way.

He was married. Officially married since having left England, of course. Those practicalities were always taken care of by the Council. No one was shipped off who didn't have all the bonds and promises in place. The Council was not made up of fools in that regard.

But *feeling* married was quite a different thing entirely. Since being told about it Wesley had approached it all academically, as a new lesson to learn.

Now it was real. He had a husband. He served this man. They were together. They were wed.

Wesley turned around, looking at Angel in the faint light.

They were connected.

Wesley shifted position carefully, pillowing his head on Angel's chest. Angel stayed still, his eyes closed in slumber.

What Wesley had told Angel had been true. Spouses were forbidden to make wishes about their future intendeds, but they often did it anyway. And they were all trained to think of this nebulous person as they took their lessons. To consider the pledge already made, and the details merely a thing to be filled in later.

Well here were the details. Here was the man.

Wesley would have been lying to say that in the deepest corner of his heart Angel did not fulfill at least some of his fantasies.

Strong. Noble. Handsome. *Kind*. Angel's kindness was staggering. Breathtaking. Wesley was starting to feel dizzy from the vertigo that came from waiting for blows and condemnations that had yet to come and showed no signs of arriving. Angel *liked* him? His husband *liked* him? How on earth was that possible? Few husbands ever did such things. Spouses were property. They were to be used. True, some did achieve the ranks of friendship but it wasn't common enough to be considered a goal.

Wesley wanted to blame some of this on Angel's apparent ignorance, but it didn't really seem the case. Angel's lessons on true protocol didn't make him treat Wesley cruelly. Instead they were simply folded into Angel's easygoing demeanor, and his brown eyes had yet to stop smiling.

Or lusting, Wesley reminded himself with a secret smile. Angel might be reserved when it came to asking for sex, but his expression always belied his desire for it. And though he'd been told serving his husband would be his only pleasure in life, somehow Wesley doubted that the Council had meant the delightful shiver that now went through him whenever he thought of Angel's mouth touching his.

Such as right now, case in point.

Wesley shifted position, feeling his cock begin to ache. He couldn't not remember Angel taking him, claiming him, and perhaps he should feel guilty but he'd been *told* to enjoy it. Surely that meant now as well as during the occasion? Feel what he felt, not what the Council told him to feel. All right then, he felt… well, he didn't know how to describe it. Unable to sit still. Wanting. Yes, wanting was a good word for it. He wanted Angel. He wanted to be with him again.

Now *that* was entirely permissible. Wesley needed no new orders to know that. Angel was his husband, Wesley existed for him, obviously Angel was the thing that Wesley should want. Angel was the *only* thing that Wesley should want. Frankly that wasn't a hard - ah - difficult thing to imagine. Angel was so powerful, so strong, so *commanding*….

Vampire, some tiny thought tried to remind him. Vampire. Undead. Evil. Monster.

But Wesley took that thought and put it aside.

Angel was his husband. Vampire, monster, evil - Wesley couldn't find it in himself to care.

What was it that Connor had said? It's hard to be afraid of the boogey man when you knew your father could defeat him in a fight?

"I want to protect you." Angel had said.

Wesley wanted Angel so much he couldn't think of anything else.

Luckily he was allowed to act on it.

Waking his husband would be considered poor form. Spouses were not meant to do that unless they were told to. However, not all techniques required the husband to be awake.

Wesley moved carefully, trying to affect the mattress as little as possible.

Angel's nipples first. *What they touch on you is most likely what they enjoy being touched on themselves.* One of the earliest and most basic lessons in what Angel apparently felt more comfortable referring to as private social discourse. Wesley tested this theory by blowing cool air over each one in turn. Then, when he remembered that Angel himself had grown cool along with the room, he opened his mouth wider to let warm air pass.

He was rewarded with a reaction. Slight, but the raising was unmistakable.

Wesley smiled. He always had enjoyed the discovery process.

His tongue next. Just the tip. Tiny flicks. One, two, three. Caresses with moisture more than anything else. Didn't want to wake him. He only wanted to please. Then, once he was done, again he applied air. Puffs of breath that brought quicker reactions now that the wetness acted as a catalyst.

Angel moved. His head turned from one side to the other. He didn't wake, but Wesley thought perhaps he looked even more relaxed than he had before.

Wesley wondered if his husband was now dreaming good dreams. Then, with a blush that surprised himself, he wondered if his husband was dreaming of *him*.

No, no, that was arrogance. So typical of him to have thought that. Banish it from his mind. It wasn't his place to presume. He was doing things which made Angel happy. That was all that mattered.

Wesley moved down.

Staying in one location would have teased Angel's mind into paying attention. No different from tapping on his shoulder, really. But movement was all right so long as it held no real pattern.

Wesley let his lips move down, breathing more air across Angel's skin. Muscles, ribs, stomach, belly button, the crisp hairs that guided the way down to - wait, wait, not yet, too soon to take the cock yet no matter how much - legs, move on to the legs. Legs and hips and that perfect trail that drew the eye and tongue and begged for them to follow lower and -

Wesley raised himself up, breathing heavily. The Council had *never* warned him about this. God the ache, the *desire*. He wanted Angel to wake up, to be inside of him, to fill him and take him and -

Control. He had this. He was not some stupid child who couldn't be trusted to follow even the simplest of orders that even an *infant* could understand. He was not to feel pleasure. He was *not* to feel pleasure. Not like this.

Or - was he? Had Angel meant for this too? Was this still allowed or was it forbidden because it made Wesley long for Angel's hand to wrap around him and stroke in that teasing way which made Wesley's stomach quaver and his balls tighten and the hand would keep moving and touching and -

*No,* he was better than this. He knew he was. He hadn't trained for so long, taken so much to *lose* it all like the utter failure he was always accused of -

Wesley sucked in a breath. He'd forgotten Angel.

(Which of course meant everything was right. He *was* a horrible excuse for anything resembling a Council spouse. A *humiliation*. An *embarrassment*. A *blight* upon anything his family could be proud of. Miserable, utter failure who knew *nothing* of how to do *anything* right and -

No. No, he *did* know how to do it right and the nagging voice was *wrong* and he would show it. Angel liked him. He liked what he did. And he wouldn't ever lack or be unhappy as long as Wesley had a say in the matter.)

His own hand then. Wrapped around Angel's cock. Lightly, as faint as silk, massaging the rising erection with the aura of his body heat. Not touching. Not *exactly* touching. But there. A distant presence. A thing to whisper into Angel's subconscious and no more.

Wesley bent down. He opened his lips again, exhaling slow, warm baths of air directly over the darkening head. Then he moved his mouth into a tight kiss, changing his breath into laser-precise cool streams that he danced in circular patterns over the tip, the edge, the sides, keeping his hand careful at all times, up and down, stroking with heat, encouraging with breath, getting him harder and harder and -

Wesley didn't know when Angel's eyes had opened.

The firelight glinted off of them. The eyes themselves were dark as night. And the *hunger* inside of them was so strong it made Wesley's heart stutter.

"My Lord," Wesley said, his voice barely a whisper.

Angel said nothing, but the command was still unmistakable.

Wesley bent down and took Angel into his mouth.

He moaned. He couldn't help it. The desire for Angel's cock was so strong that Wesley was drooling for it. His own cock ached, bumping into the bedding as he moved. He lifted his hips, forcing himself away from the intoxicating friction. He couldn't. He wasn't allowed. Only Angel. But God it didn't matter because it felt so *wonderful* to do this.

Wesley worked hard. Tongue and lips and teeth up and down the shaft, sucking him in deep then moving back to lick the tip and rub his lips across it, wetting them with the precome as he swiped his mouth back and forth, slowly, like a woman primping before the mirror and Angel *groaned*, the sound so deep it was almost primal, and perhaps that too might have frightened Wesley at some point but now he didn't care. It was Angel. That was all that mattered.

The tip of his tongue trailed down the sides, then Wesley's mouth found the tightening balls, cupping them, licking them, sucking them with gentle bursts of pressure until Angel's hips moved, rising into him like a wave, then falling back when the closeness denied Angel the access he was looking for.

Angel's hand rested on Wesley's shoulder, kneading it at first, then moving up to caress Wesley's collarbone, neck - Wesley gasped, trembling - then face. He drew Wesley up until their eyes met, and for a moment all Angel could do was stare at him.

"Pretty boy," Angel finally murmured.

Wesley was certain he'd forgotten how to breathe. "My Lord," he replied.

Angel dropped his hand, letting Wesley resume his efforts.

Hips called to him once more. Wesley mouthed kisses over them, palming the skin with his hands, letting Angel's cock brush against him as he worked as though he were a true innocent, unaware that such a thing might happen, completely oblivious to how even the most casual touch of his cheek, rough with the shadow of a morning beard, would feel against the sensitive flesh. He moved against it again and again until he saw Angel's hands fisting into the sheets, then finally he brought his mouth back up to the tip, letting it dance against his chin and his lips until Angel thrust forward, driving it home.

Wesley swallowed, sucking the entire shaft into him as far back as he could, then pulling back slowly, holding the pressure until the very end. Then release, move his lips back down, pull back with increasing pressure, then release, move back -

"*Wes*," Angel said, his voice a warning and a request all at once.

"Have your pleasure as you wish, my Lord," Wesley told him. He traced his lips along the bottom of the shaft, flicking his tongue out to dance over the tip again. "Do whatever you wish."

Angel's face was stoic, and serious. His eyes the only hint of the thoughts inside of him. Wesley saw the politeness, the reservation, but also the *want*.

"Fuck me," Wesley whispered, making it an offer, because it could *never* be a request. "My Lord, fuck me."

Angel's hand snapped out, grabbing him by the back of the neck. Wesley stilled, his heart thundering, his cock *aching* as it hung between his legs. Angel held him for a moment, a lifetime.

"Do you like this?" Angel asked.

Wesley nodded as best as he could. "My Lord, I like this."

Angel studied him, as though searching for the truth of it. Wesley looked back, trying to show he had nothing to hide. "I *order* you to enjoy yourself," Angel said at last.

"I do," Wesley promised, though the words released tension in him he hadn't even realized he was holding. "I shall. My Lord, I swear I will obey you."

"Entire classes, huh?" Angel asked, his mind following its own pathways.

"During which I was always thinking of you," Wesley said.

"I want you," Angel said.

Wesley felt a thrill of pride at that. "I'm yours, my Lord. Always."

"Your mouth," Angel murmured. He stared at it, bringing his hand forward to brush his fingertips over Wesley's lips. Wesley kissed them, sucking on them, until Angel guided him back down to his waiting cock and once more lifted himself until the back of Wesley's throat began to caress the head.

Angel was definitely awake now. Were before he was passive, now he was active. Demanding. His hips thrusting forward and his hand clasping Wesley's neck, and his cock going in and out and in until Wesley felt he was being fucked good and properly.

Wesley took it all, knowing how to relax to let his husband pleasure himself. He assisted where he could with hands and tongue and teeth and the thrusts became tighter, faster, twisting as Angel sought out the last bit needed to send him right over the edge Wesley met him halfway, humming, picking no particular tune but running a scale of highs and lows until Angel made a series of inarticulate sounds and syllables, stuttering them out until just the right note and just the right twist and just the right touch and - "*Fuck*. Wesley - " and then there was copper-rich fluid filling his mouth for Wesley to swallow down and lick clean as Angel fell back out of his climax, sweat-drenched and sleepily sated.

Wesley kept licking until the cock went limp, then he sat back and watched Angel, mesmerized by the beauty of his husband in the firelight.

"Come here," Angel told him.

Wesley crawled higher upon the bed, then found himself wrapped in Angel's embrace. one arm pillowing his head, the hand rubbing Wesley's shoulder, one leg hooked around Wesley's knee, drawing him near.

Angel's free hand dropped down between them, brushing against Wesley's cock with a touch that was experimental more than anything else but even still Wesley's eyes squeezed shut, and his body trembled, and his skin felt as though it had been doused in liquid fire.

"You *did* like that," Angel said.

Wesley looked up at him. Nodded. "My Lord, very much."

Angel's smile was so warm and tender that Wesley felt dizzy, and lightheaded at the sight of it. "Good."

Angel's fingertips were right there, brushing against the head, not yet touching properly but close, so close, if Wesley moved only a little he could - no, movement wasn't allowed, he mustn't *seek* pleasure, it was completely forbidden to -

"Mine," Angel said. Then his lips and hand moved forward at the same time, capturing Wesley's mouth with a breath-stealing kiss, circling his cock with a powerful hold, and then there was kissing, and touching, and a tongue thrusting past his lips as the callused hand stroked and turned and twisted and - he couldn't - God - he - it felt - God - oh - it -

"*Angel*," Wesley sobbed out, jerking into his husband's arms as the orgasm tore through him, shuddering his body, his heart, his *mind* as he gasped, and clung to Angel as the only solid thing he knew, and he felt the sticky stripes of come as they hit his chest and his belly and then the world became warm, and heavy, and all he could feel was Angel's arms around him, and the distant sensation of Angel's lips against his own.

"I like you, Wesley," Angel said. Or perhaps Wesley only imagined that he said it. But it felt so real and Wesley was certain he didn't have an imagination anymore.

"I like you too," Wesley replied, or imagined he replied. Then he curled up against his husband's chest, thinking to himself that even if the words had been pretend, the physical still provided a wonderful reality.