Angel / Protocol / Part Twenty

PART TWENTY

The sunlight was fading as they made their way back to the house. Connor took the lead, picking his way carefully through the grounds with eyesight that was sharper than that of any mortal's. Xander carried the clutch of rabbits and assorted birds that Connor had managed to catch.

Wesley felt good. Dirty and sweaty, which was obviously unacceptable, but *productive* and that was the important thing. He'd accomplished things, been useful, and fulfilled a role that clearly no one else here could. For the first time he felt like a true spouse. That he felt such a way about a *vampire* was a secondary concern to him. The thought of wanting to be far away from Angel seemed so distant and removed from what his actual life was. He wanted to be good, and to serve. To do things which might make his husband smile at him.

He felt certain he could do such things today.

Willow walked beside him. A bundle of leaves and flowers was in her hand. "I had no idea that even half this stuff was useful."

"Oh yes," Wesley told her. "I've some books on the subject if you'd like. The rest I'll have to write or to teach you. More often than not the Council prefers that our information travel up here - " he tapped his head to indicate what he had stored in his memory.

"That's okay?" Willow asked, her head tilted with concern. "You can do that with the Council rules and all?"

"More than okay," Wesley told her. He held a hand out to help her climb over a rock. "In point of fact it's part of why I am here. Angel didn't pick a Council spouse simply for political reasons. He wanted a way to access the Council's knowledge, particularly as it regards to demonology and magic."

"Will is definitely our magic girl," Xander said, his eyes continuing to scan the area around them for any signs of danger. "Demons you'd probably have to talk to Gunn or Spike."

"Charles it is then," Wesley replied.

Willow was more concerned with Xander's other duties. "It's getting late."

"I'm not hearing anything," Connor said, "but yeah."

The house loomed in front of them. Now that Wesley knew what it contained, the outer layer truly seemed like a façade. A fluffy icing that masked a hard center. Even the color of it - pale whites and salmons - mocked the darkness that lived inside, a place where no real light, no sunset, no real *air* could penetrate and - "Wes?" Willow plucked at his shirtsleeve, trying to draw his attention.

Wesley sucked in a breath. He hadn't realized that he'd stopped walking, or that the others had gotten ahead. Xander and Connor stared back at him, concern shaping their faces.

"I'm sorry," Wesley said. "I - " The house was enormous, and seeped cold powerful enough to touch him even from this distance. The marble path that lead to the front door gleamed with a blinding light. Wesley wanted to back away from it, to run for the safety of the hills and to never look back.

Connor approached. "Wes?"

Wesley swallowed on a dry throat. "I - I thought - perhaps a minute more? There's things here we could gather, I didn't realize - "

Connor shook his head. "Dad said you can't stay out after sunset."

Wesley hadn't thought of that. "He did?"

"Wait, you can take orders second-hand now?" Xander asked.

"It's not an order for Wes, it's an order for me," Connor said. He turned back to Wesley. "It's not safe here at night. Too many demons come out, even on the grounds. Dad said I had to get you back in your rooms by the time it got dark or he'd be really pissed."

"I didn't know he told you that," Wesley said.

"Well," Connor admitted, "he didn't *say* 'pissed', but he had that look on his face."

"Angel's a little protective," Willow said, as though this was something to apologize for.

"Plants will still be there tomorrow," Xander pointed out. Then, thinking about it, said, "Unless they mutate into something with legs, in which case it's probably best we don't bring them inside in the first place."

"Could be fun to kill," Connor said.

"Or keep as pets," Xander countered.

"*Guys*," Willow said, drawing their attention back to Wesley.

Wesley had managed to pull himself under control. Angel wanted him inside. That was the only thing that mattered. "We should go in. My Lord is expecting me."

Of the three of them, Connor looked the most uncertain, but none offered any objection as they went back into the house.

***

The fires were lit in their rooms. Wesley stood alone in the orange-gold light and let it all sink in.

This was his home. This was his life. He was married to a vampire, and that creature lived in the dark.

That creature was also kind, and generous, and caring, and tender.

The fear was still there, licking along his skin with sparks and spasms.

Wesley told it to go to Hell. Angel was nicer to him than anyone had ever been in Wesley's life. If that wasn't worth some suffering, he didn't know what was.

Wesley went to prepare for Angel's return.

***

The apartment seemed empty when Angel got back, but the faint sound of a heartbeat told him that it wasn't.

"Wes?" Angel called out.

"One moment, my Lord."

Angel blinked. That was new. He followed the sound of Wes's voice back to the bedroom. "Not that I care but don't the rules say you have to come when I call?"

"I assume my Lord is not speaking vulgarly?"

"Not speaking - oh," Angel said, getting it. He looked around. The bedroom was empty. "Right. Yeah. Meant didn't know you could tell me to wait sometimes."

"It is not my place give commands," Wesley replied. His voice was coming out of nowhere. Angel turned around, trying to place it. "However, it is also forbidden for me to appear before my Lord in any state of dishevelment which he has not created in me. I shall stop if you wish it, but the rules state I must be clean and dressed before I present myself to you."

Angel stopped turning. He frowned, his eyes focusing on a corner of the room. "Was that screen *always* here?"

"No, my Lord."

"You're behind it, aren't you?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"You're also calling me an idiot again."

"I am sure my Lord observes things in his own time."

Angel came forward. He studied the screen. It was made of wood and silk, the cloth itself patterned with abstract flowers. He squinted at it, but could not see through to look at Wesley. "So I'm not allowed to see you right now?"

"My Lord can see me whenever he wishes," Wesley said. "*I* am not allowed to present myself right now. At least, not until ordered otherwise."

"What was wrong with you?" Angel asked.

"I was outside," Wesley said. "It was warm. I got dirty, and mussed. Such a state is totally unacceptable."

"Yeah, 'cause if I see you mussed there'll be anarchy," Angel said. He crept along the length of the screen, wondering if he could peer around the side. "Good thing you brought this in to block my way."

"Actually, I did not," Wesley said. "It was here when I arrived. I believe it was installed by the servants, as part and parcel of putting in this mirror."

"They finally got around to that?" Angel asked.

"Yes," Wesley said.

"I ordered it for you, you know," Angel told him.

"Thank you, my Lord," Wesley said.

"Does it work?"

"As I can see my reflection I shall say that yes, it does."

Angel ran his fingers along the silk "So does it match the screen or something?"

"I believe the servants assumed that as my Lord has no reflection, he might be offended by the constant appearance of a mirror."

"Oh," Angel said. "I wouldn't."

"I suppose they wished to err on the side of caution."

"Wasn't necessary," Angel said. "Do you like it?"

"It's currently coming quite in handy."

"Well you let me know when you're done," Angel said.

"Am I displeasing you by waiting?"

"No," Angel said. "I just don't understand it."

"A spouse must always be in their best condition," Wesley explained. "How we arrive there should never be a concern to our husbands, and should the question ever occur to them, the answer must remain a mystery."

Angel leaned over, peering around the corner of the frame. Wes's back was to him, but otherwise he was now in view. "Wes, I think you could give me the *manual* that you guys are trained with and you'd *still* be a mystery to me."

"Thank you, my Lord," Wesley said.

"Not sure if that was a compliment or an observation."

"Just in case, then."

"Not that I wouldn't turn down a manual if you've got one."

"Not on me, I'm afraid," Wesley said. He unscrewed a blue jar, then began to rub the contents of it onto his arms.

"What's that?" Angel asked.

Wesley looked up, and Angel was belatedly grateful that he was completely invisible in that mirror. Wes's face was reflected, looking puzzled. "My Lord?"

"I can smell it," Angel quickly recovered.

Wes seemed to accept that explanation. He went back to massaging it into his skin. "It is a cream, my Lord."

"Does it fix anything I have to be worried about?" Angel asked.

"It is merely meant to keep my skin pleasant to touch," Wesley said. He had moved on to his chest now. Angel watched the reflection as Wes's hand swiped across the rise and fall of his lean muscles. He moved with an ease he didn't normally show in Angel's presence, and Angel realized that was because Wes thought he was unobserved. This was how *Wes* moved. Not the spouse, but the man.

"It is," Angel said, when he thought that maybe he'd been quiet for too long. His eyes didn't leave those roaming hands. They were on the legs now. Angel could feel the sensation of Wes's thighs as though it were his own fingertips that were taking care of him. "Nice to touch."

"Thank you," Wesley said. He'd gotten quiet too. From where he stood Angel couldn't tell if Wes's cock was getting hard, but Angel definitely wanted it to be.

"I missed you," Angel said.

Wes stopped at that. He turned his head slightly, but not enough to catch Angel at his spying. "My Lord?"

"Today," Angel said. "You were out all day and I realized I missed you. We didn't have lunch or tea together."

Tension appeared in Wes's shoulders. "I'm sorry, my Lord. I didn't mean to disobey."

"You didn't," Angel said. "I just missed you." Then, even though he knew the question was unfair, even though he *knew* chances were Wes could never honestly answer it, he asked, "Did you - maybe - "

Wes turned around, and Angel realized he'd been kidding himself if he thought Wes hadn't known what he was doing. "Yes, my Lord. I did."

Too much. Wes was *there*, pretty and vulnerable, and his eyes reminded Angel that in this relationship he needed no invitation. "I don't wait to touch you anymore," Angel said.

Wes stepped closer. His posture was contrite, but Angel could tell he felt anything but miserable. "I'm sorry, my Lord,"

Angel reached out, touching the lotion-smooth skin. "You come when I call."

Wes was right up against him now. His cock bumped into Angel's leg. His lips were parted. "Yes, my Lord."

Angel felt something inside of him, deep and animal, uncoil. Wes was offering him everything and asking nothing in return. It made him want to take Wes. Claim him hard and keep him safe.

Wes was shivering, but this wasn't the terrified shiver of their first night. This was eagerness, and need. His hands danced in the air as though he wanted to touch but didn't dare make the attempt. "My Lord," he whispered, "I - today I learned things. I could - "

"I want to fuck you," Angel told him. "You weren't here all day, and now I want you in that bed so I can fuck you and welcome you back."

They were close now, lips brushing against cheeks and nearly contacting with one another. "Yes," Wesley breathed. "My Lord, yes."

Remembering that there were lessons to be had in all this, Angel asked, "Do you like it when I do that?"

Wes's hands had found their way into his shirt now. They clutched the cloth, kneading it tightly. The words came slower, haltingly. "My Lord, I - I like it when you do that."

Angel held him close, a hand on Wes's hip guiding him so that he could get a tiny bit of friction against Angel's thigh. Wes sighed, and rubbed up against him, and his face looked so relaxed that Angel felt certain that he couldn't guess Wes's age if he tried. Sometimes he seemed hard, and world-weary enough to have decades upon decades behind him. Othertimes he looked so innocent and lost that if he *was* older than Connor then it wasn't by much.

Angel thought about asking him, but suspected that celebrating birthdays was high on the list of things that spouses did not do. He kissed Wesley instead, open-mouthed and wet, until Wes was shivering harder and his hips moved with sharper motions.

"My Lord," Wesley said. His hands kept working, clutching and releasing the folds of Angel's shirt like a kitten trying to find comfort in a pile of fur. "I - I feel *safe* with you."

This seemed to be about something, but Angel didn't know what. He decided to stick with the basics. "Good."

"I *like* you," Wesley said, and this came out in a rush, an exhalation of air that was quickly chased by tiny whimpers as Wes's body was taken over by need.

Angel couldn't stop himself. Wes always looked so joyful, so *surprised* to feel pleasure and arousal. Getting Wes to that state was just the right kind of torture for them both.

He moved a hand down, wrapping it around Wes's cock. Wes surged up, gasping out a soft "Oh", then clutching at him as Angel stroked him and hit all the sweet spots.

Wes struggled, fighting himself. Angel watched the war between rules and desire as it played across Wesley's face. Occasionally rules won out long enough for Wes to whisper a "My Lord, I - " and then, later " - shouldn't - " but each time desire chased it away until Wes got warmer, and harder, and his lips moved but he forgot how to speak.

He stayed close to Angel, though, and Angel recognized the nerves as they came. He wrapped his free arm around Wesley's body, holding him tight in a protective embrace. He continued to stroke, softly murmuring, "I want you to come. I'm telling you to come. I'm your husband. My orders are the only ones that matter. Do as I tell you." And yeah, maybe it made himself hard to be able to boss a pretty boy around like that, but Wes wanted it, and held him tighter as he did it, and soon he was jerking and squirming in Angel's arms, his body slowly losing all control until finally, with high, shallow gasps, Wes came, crying out and sobbing, but showering Angel's neck with kisses that could only be described as worshipful.

"Very good," Angel told him, wanting to reinforce the process.

"Thank you," Wesley breathed, then dropped to his knees at once to take care of Angel without being asked to.

Angel thought about a token protest, but abandoned it when he realized that he'd stopped meaning any of the complaints, and besides it would only hurt Wes's feelings anyway. Instead he gave in, tangling a hand in Wes's hair and murmuring encouragement as his perfect little spouse gave him head, sucking and licking and - oh *Christ* the teeth were, fuck he was doing things that were - yes, yes, hard like that, hard *exactly* like that and - and -

Angel shouted, a loud bark of a nonsense syllable, as he came right into Wesley's mouth. Wes swallowed, then let go, looking up at him eagerly. If he'd been a puppy his tail would have thumped the floor, and he'd have been holding a ball in his mouth, ready for his master to throw.

The double meaning of that made Angel chuckle.

"My Lord?" Wes said, worry creeping into his features.

"Not you," Angel promised. He cupped Wes's cheek, caressing it. "You're perfect."

"Was it all right?" Wesley asked. "I was trying something new."

"Very all right," Angel told him. "Where'd you learn that?"

"I was told you'd probably prefer not to know," Wesley said.

Angel thought about it. "I'm going to trust that instinct. C'mon. I want you in bed."

"I want to be there for you," Wes replied, following happily as Angel led him there.