Angel / Protocol / Part Forty

PART FORTY

Angel liked to think that he'd gotten used to all kinds of unusual sights. Upon returning to his suite he realized that this was not true.

It wasn't that Wes was kneeling. Multiple - thank you *God* - mind-numbing blowjobs had more than provided Angel with plenty of views of what Wes looked like on his knees.

No, it was that Wes was kneeling, with his back to Angel, in front of a bookcase. For that matter, he was kneeling in a rather undignified posture with his ass in the air, his elbows on the floor, and his face apparently buried underneath the bottom of the shelves.

Angel looked at this for several moments and then decided to hazard a guess.

"Lose something?"

Wes jumped back, barking his left elbow against the bookcase in his haste to turn around. "I - " shock and horror filled Wes's face as he realized who he was speaking to. He quickly scrambled to his feet. "My Lord, I - I'm so sorry, I didn't realize - I was just - "

"Looking for something," Angel said.

"Yes, my Lord," Wes didn't look as though he was happy about admitting this.

"Missing things can be a bitch," Angel said. There was something - maybe it was the anxiety in Wes's eyes about being caught off-guard, maybe it was that being here, with Wes, made Angel feel like he could relax and let his own guard down, Hell, maybe it was just *Wes* - that made Angel feel like kidding around. It was a strange sensation, but Angel gave in to it anyway. "Hang on, maybe I can help."

Wes shook his head. "My Lord, there's no need to trouble yourself on my behalf."

"It's no trouble," Angel said.

"Even so, my Lord."

"Happy to do it," Angel held his hands out, waving his fingers in what he hoped was a dramatic fashion. "It's not often I get the chance to do magic."

"Honestly, my Lord, there's no need to - " Wes paused. "Magic?"

"Didn't know I could do magic now, did you?" Angel said. He moved his hands back and forth. It was a gesture more suited to shuffling a deck of cards, but Angel figured it would do in a pinch.

Wes's brow had creased in about eight kinds of frowns. "My Lord, I don't need a spell."

"Not going to do a spell," Angel said. "Going to do a conjuring."

"Conjuring?" Wes looked as though he didn't know if he wanted to be curious or worried.

"You lost something," Angel said, warming into it. He hadn't had this much fun since playing stupid games for the sheer purpose of making Connor smile back when he was a kid. "I'm going to bring it back to you."

"My Lord, really - "

"I'm summoning my powers," Angel said, pulling at the air around him. "I'm reaching into the void, I'm stretching out my abilities and - hey, look over there."

Wes didn't look fooled, but he gamely looked into the corner that was over his right shoulder.

Angel reached into his coat pocket and pulled out Hieronymus. "Ta da."

The smile that shaped Wes's face was enough to make Angel's stomach do a somersault. "*There* you are, you - I - I mean - "

"Go on," Angel held the kitten out. "You can take him."

Wes immediately scooped the cat into his arms and just as immediately started in with the apologies. "My Lord I am *so* sorry. I had *no* idea."

"He's a cat," Angel shrugged. "They roam."

"He should *not* have been bothering you," Wesley said.

"He wasn't," Angel limped his way over to the couch. "He was keeping me company. Heck, I thought you sent him. Figured he was supposed to watch me and report back to you if I needed anything."

"That would be useful," Wes agreed. He followed along behind Angel, watching him carefully. "My Lord?"

Angel knew where that worried tone was going. He tried to put it off for a moment longer, even as he winced his way into a sitting position. "He was fine. Nice and quiet while he sat in my pocket and everything."

"Still," Wes's face took on a scolding demeanor. He held the kitten up to eye level. "Hieronymus, you mustn't leave the suite without my being aware of it. Nor should you disturb my Lord while he is conducting business."

"Wes," Angel said, "you *are* aware that he doesn't really understand English, right?"

"He never will if no one speaks it to him, my Lord," Wes pointed out.

"I can't find a single fault in that logic," Angel admitted. He patted the cushion beside him. "C'mere, have a seat."

"Can I get you anything, my Lord?" Wes asked.

"You can get yourself a seat," Angel said, giving Wes a quick grin to show him the words were meant without rancor.

Wes sat down beside him, tucking his legs underneath him. Hieronymus climbed up to the top of the couch, curled into a furry disk, and promptly fell asleep.

Angel noted this with amusement. "One of these days that cat of yours is really going to have to learn how to destress."

"Once he learns how to understand English, I'll be sure to mention that to him, my Lord," Wes replied.

"I'm getting humor?" Angel asked. "What did I do to earn humor?"

"You - " Wes's smile was shy, halting its way across his lips as though he'd forgotten how to convey the emotion. "You're very kind to me, my Lord."

"I returned your cat to you," Angel said. "It's not exactly giving you the world."

"I hadn't misplaced the world, my Lord."

"Okay, now we're - " Angel made a vague, expressionless gesture, shifting uncomfortably. "This is a whole area of words that I am so not good at."

"I'm sorry, my Lord."

"Didn't do anything wrong," Angel assured him. He scouted for another subject change. "How's your friend?"

For some reason that didn't wipe the smile off of Wes's face. "Situated comfortably, my Lord. She expresses her gratitude and appreciation for the excellent accommodations you have provided for her and her husband."

"Uh-huh," Angel said. "And if I had provided them with accommodations that involved beds made of hay and the actual presence of barnyard animals, would she have expressed her opinion any differently?"

"More diplomatically, perhaps," Wes said.

"Is that what you Council types call bullshit?" Angel asked.

"Occasionally," Wes leaned back against the pillows. His eyes reflected the light from the fireplace. "She also said you were very handsome, my Lord."

"Why'd she say that?" Angel asked.

"She's not blind, my Lord."

"I meant - thanks, by the way," Angel patted Wes's leg, then decided to let his hand linger there. "I meant isn't she supposed to only have eyes for her own husband?"

"Compliments to another spouse's husband or wife are part of protocol, my Lord," Wes explained.

"And did you say that her husband was handsome?" Angel asked.

The corner of Wes's mouth tilted in a smirk. "I am also not blind, my Lord."

"You know what's great about that is that if somebody put you on a witness stand you could always claim you meant that as a compliment," Angel said.

"Diplomacy is a fine art, my Lord," Wes replied.

"I'm starting to appreciate your skills at shoveling all that diplomacy too," Angel said. Then, reminded of what made him want to talk to Wes in the first place, he became more sober. "Wes, I wanna do a thing."

Wes sat up. "Of course, my Lord. How can I please you?"

"You can stay sitting," Angel motioned him back down. "This is a talking thing. Can we do a talking thing?"

"We can do whatever my Lord wishes," Wes said. He sat back, but concern shaped his face.

"I want to tell you something," Angel said. "That's the first part of this."

"You have my full attention, my Lord," Wes's voice was strong, but he looked ready to receive a blow.

Angel reached out and took one of Wes's hands in his own. "You're not in trouble. Here, let me show you something. Are you familiar with all the workings of the body?"

"Somewhat, my Lord," Wes said, shifting over as Angel pulled his hand towards him. "Spouses are trained with some familiarity, so that they might use that knowledge to best serve the pleasure of their husbands."

"Pleasure, exactly," Angel said. "So you might know when something's causing *displeasure*, right?"

"I might," Wesley said.

Angel took Wes's hand and placed it flat against his right thigh. He pressed it in, wincing as the touch sent off shockwaves of pain through his side. "Feel that?"

"I..." Wes frowned, concentrating. He leaned forward, his fingers pushing in with an exploratory touch. "I... I'm not sure, my Lord."

"Might be too subtle for humans to feel," Angel said. "It's the bone. There's something wrong with it."

Wes's eyes flew open. "My Lord - "

"It didn't heal right," Angel explained. "That happens sometimes, with vampires. We heal so quick that sometimes things don't wait until everything's in the right place. Or one little thing gets jostled and it's all screwed up."

"My Lord - " Wes looked like he didn't know where to begin " - did I - "

"Not you," Angel said, squeezing Wes's hand for comfort. "It just happens. Catch-22 of being a vampire. Eternal life, and occasionally little annoyances like this."

"My Lord, based on the pain you've been showing I don't know that I would call it a little annoyance," Wes said.

Angel gave a sheepish smile. "You noticed, huh?"

"That you could barely walk?" Wes asked, his eyebrow arching in what Angel knew was princely fashion. "No, my Lord. I am in no way dedicated to being so obsessed with everything you do to the point where I would happen notice a minor detail such as whether or not you might be crippled."

"Sarcasm," Angel observed. "You know, suddenly I'm real glad I started off this whole thing with the kitten maneuver."

Wes dropped the regal face. "I want you to be happy, my Lord."

"I will be," Angel said. "But we're gonna have to do something serious with this. The bone'll need to be broken and reset again."

"All right," Wes repositioned himself. "What do I need to do?"

"Die and be born again without a soul," Angel said. Off Wes's confused look, he explained, "It's not for mortal strength. Not unless you want to use a sledgehammer, and believe me that's not accurate enough."

"You need to be better," Wes said.

"I will be," Angel said. "Spike'll do it. Believe me, he'd love to."

The scolding look was back. "My Lord - "

"Honest," Angel held up his hands. "That wasn't sarcasm from my end. He's family. He's a vampire. He knows what this is like. He'll be doing me a kindness. A really painful, I'm not exactly looking to do this right *now*, God it's going to hurt, kindness."

"Can I help?" Wes asked.

"It's not going to be fun to watch," Angel said.

"Would my company give you comfort?" Wesley asked.

"It might," Angel admitted. "But let's not deal with that right now."

"I could make a potion, or a salve," Wesley said. "Something to help numb the area?"

"That's the fun part," Angel said. "Hard to know if the bone's set right unless I can feel everything."

Wes looked paler. "My Lord - "

"I chalk it up to atonement," Angel stroked his thumb over Wes's hand. "Believe me, I've done a lot worse to people who were a lot nicer than me."

"Would comfort now be a problem?" Wesley asked.

"It's not necessary," Angel said.

"We have differing opinions on my job description, my Lord," Wesley said.

"Only if you want to," Angel said. Then, realizing that putting it that way might tie Wesley's hands, he added, "I mean, sure, go ahead. I'm not forbidding you."

Wesley turned around so that his back was to the fireplace. He leaned forward, placing his hands on either side of Angel's leg. He tapped his fingers up and down, stopping when he reached a spot at around the halfway point. "The problem is here?"

"Yeah," Angel said. "Right about - *oh*. *Oh*."

A feeling of pure, primal pleasure the likes of which Angel usually associated with feeding zinged right through Angel's body. Wes was working his thumbs and the heels of his hands into Angel's leg, pressing and stroking in what seemed like a highly concentrated manner.

"How are you *doing* that?" Angel asked.

"I am trained in ways to provide pleasure to my husband in many kinds of circumstances, my Lord," Wes explained. He dug his fingers into the inside of Angel's thigh, the gesture in no way sexual, but wonderful all the same. "Caring for him when he is hurt is one such possibility. In which case, there are methods of massage which stimulate the nerves and body chemistry around the affected area and can, when done correctly, provide comfort and relief."

"Believe me, it's working," Angel slid down on the couch, propping his foot up onto the table to help give Wes better access.

"I'm glad," Wesley said. Off of Angel's confused look, he clarified, "the technique is for humans. It was only my hope that the process would work the same for a vampire."

"Some things are the same," Angel said. He closed his eyes, savoring the feel of Wes's touch. "Could teach you sometime, if you were interested."

"That would be very kind, my Lord."

"Does that bother you?" Angel asked. "My Lord?"

Angel opened his eyes again. "That I'm a vampire."

"My Lord," Wes gave a slight shake of his head, "I am not afraid of you, nor do I - "

"No, I know that," Angel said. "I meant - I meant do I feel weird, to you?"

Wes's hands faltered. In the time of his hesitation, Hieronymus woke up and, apparently inspired by Wes's actions, leapt down to knead a massage of his own into Angel's leg. "My Lord?"

"I'm room temperature," Angel said. "No pulse. I know my skin doesn't feel like a human's. I was wondering... does that feel weird, to you?"

"You feel like you, to me, my Lord," Wesley said. "I am not repulsed by your body. Quite the opposite, in fact."

"But you have to say that," Angel said.

"You are a handsome man, my Lord," Wesley said. "And your touch is quite pleasurable to me."

"You have to say that too."

"My Lord - " Wes shrugged, helplessly. "I'm sorry. I do not know how else to answer you."

"I want to do more of the talking thing," Angel said.

"As you wish, my Lord," Wes replied. He resumed his work on Angel's leg.

"Your friend," Angel said, "is there something strange going on there?"

Wes gave him a questioning look. "My Lord?"

"I may not have read all the rules in the book," Angel said. "Or, for that matter, was *given* a book. But I do remember some stuff from the negotiations and one is that all of you guys speak English."

"We do, my Lord," Wes said. He did not look up from Angel's leg.

"Language of the Council, right?"

"Yes, my Lord," Wes said.

"So what's with the Russian?" Angel asked.

"She can speak and understand English perfectly, my Lord," Wesley said, moving his hands around so that he could avoid bumping into Hieronymus as he worked. "However, she has been instructed not to."

Angel reached down to pet the kitten, watching Wes's face for any sign of emotion. "By who?"

Wes looked genuinely puzzled to have been asked the question. "By her husband, my Lord."

"Why in Hell would he do that?" Angel asked.

"Lord Randolph... *likes* the Russian language," Wesley said, his voice adding a resonance which made it clear just *how* Randy 'liked' Russian. "That may have been a factor in his choice of Zhanna, as her family is from that area."

"But why all the time?" Angel asked. "I thought one of the advantages of you guys was your knowledge. Aren't spouses supposed to rack up languages like baseball cards?"

"My Lord?"

"Collect 'em all," Angel explained.

"She can still understand and translate for her husband privately," Wesley said. "But publicly Lord Randolph... enjoys the simplicity that a single language can provide."

"Okay," Angel said. "He gets his rocks off when she only uses that. Fine. But why couldn't I talk Russian back? What is that, like flirting or something?"

"No, my Lord," Wesley said. "Lord Randolph undoubtedly wagered that you did not speak Russian."

"You do."

"I must observe the rules of protocol," Wesley said. "Which means that I cannot force another spouse to go against what their husband or wife has ordered of them. Neither could any spouse do the same to me."

"Yeah," Angel said, "but he ordered *her* to speak Russian. He can't order you to speak English."

"Speaking Russian is only the first order, my Lord," Wes said.

"What's the second?"

"Not speaking to anyone else at all."

Angel covered Wes's hands with his own, stilling them so that he could think. He let the concept roll over in his mind, knowing that this was a nut he could crack. "Enforced helplessness. That's it, isn't it?"

Wesley nodded. "It is Lord Randolph's pleasure that Zhanna be dependant upon him."

"That's why he was pissed at you, wasn't it?" Angel asked. "You were asking to be alone with her and he knew that was going against his orders."

Now Wes looked smug. "Rules of protocol. The first forbids me from speaking to her in public - "

"But in private you can go all out," Angel guessed.

"Precisely," Wes resumed the massage again. "It is one of the rules which helps and protects us. No husband or wife can forbid us from having private conferences with other spouses."

"How's that work when everything else is about you giving up body and soul to make us happy?" Angel asked.

"It's actually part and parcel of the whole, my Lord," Wesley said. "We must at all times - Hieronymus, if you could shift an inch higher that would be most helpful, thank you - appear as though we have no wants, or needs. We must make no demands of our wives or husbands. But there *are* times when needs do come up. It is therefore ultimately beneficial to our wives and husbands when we can sneak away and take care of these problems without them being aware of it."

"So how does another spouse factor into that?" Angel asked.

"They have knowledge that others do not," Wesley said. "Access to supplies that we may have run out of. Things of that nature, my Lord."

"Fair enough," Angel said. "So what do you do when there aren't any other spouses around?"

Wes faltered. It was only for a moment, but Angel saw it all the same. "We make do, my Lord."

Angel sat forward. "How?"

"We manage, my Lord," Wes gave him a hopeful smile. "Is your leg feeling better?"

Angel debated his next words carefully. "Wes, do you know why I told you about my leg?"

"No, my Lord," Wes said, his voice soft, as though he'd been corrected.

"Because I wanted to be truthful with you," Angel said. "I wanted to show you that I'll be honest, even if it's about something I'd rather not be honest about."

Wes grew still. "Thank you, my Lord."

"I'm honest with you," Angel said. "And I'd like to think that you're honest with me."

"I am, my Lord."

"*Totally* honest with me."

Wes moved back, folding his hands into his lap. "I am, my Lord."

"I asked you a question not long after you got here," Angel said. "I asked you what you might like in bed. Do you remember that?"

"I... have memory of several such conversations, my Lord," Wesley said.

"You'd remember this one," Angel said. "It was one of the few times you gave me an answer."

"My Lord, I'm not sure that I - "

"We had to do the verbal tricks," Angel said, "but I remember you answered me. Leather straps around your wrists, me doing whatever I wanted to you, you on your knees. Do you remember that?"

Color began to creep up Wes's neck. Perhaps sensing his owner's distress, Hieronymus abandoned Angel to rub up against Wesley, mewing at him with what sure as Hell sounded like reassurance. "I may have said something like that, my Lord."

"You did."

"I do not dispute you, my Lord."

"Wes," Angel said, "you're still surprised by basic orgasms. You only hint at what you like in your tea. I give you presents and you're amazed that they have your name on them. How in the *hell* do you know what you like in bed?"

Wes's hands tightened into fists. "I did not lie to you, my Lord."

"I'm not saying it was on purpose."

"I didn't lie!" The exclamation was so sharp and sudden that even Wes looked surprised by it. Hieronymus gave a questioning mew. Wesley scooped the kitten up, stroking it until it purred. "I didn't lie, my Lord. You asked what might give *you* the most pleasure. I answered accordingly."

Angel wanted to touch him but knew it was too soon to try. "How would you even know that answer?"

"It's a standard response, my Lord," Wesley shrugged. "If we are asked, that is what we are told to say."

"What - why?" Angel couldn't wrap his brain around it. "*Why?*"

"That is what most wives and husbands wish to hear, my Lord," Wesley said, his voice now as soft as a whisper. "Most wives and husbands want to know that we are not only capable of, but eager to be helpless before them."

"I'm not," Angel said. "I wasn't."

Wes swallowed, but did not look down. "You seemed pleased by the response, my Lord."

"Only because I thought it was genuine," Angel said.

"It was, my Lord."

"It's not when that's what someone is telling you to say," Angel reached out at last, grasping Wes by the arm. "Wesley, I want you to be happy. I want you to be *honestly* happy."

"I *am*, my Lord," Wes said. "I did not lie to you. My response was true. I am trained in techniques of submission and if you are pleased by them then it is my pleasure to give them to you. It is my pleasure to give *anything* to you."

"I only want you, Wes," Angel told him. "Not the Council, not the rules, just you."

"I am yours, my Lord," Wesley said. "Completely, happily."

"I wish you could tell me what would make you happy," Angel said. "I really do. Come here, I want to hold you." Wes put Hieronymus down onto the couch, then turned so that Angel could wrap an arm around him and pull him against his chest. Once they were settled like that, Hieronymus made a bed for himself between them. "You make me happy, my Lord."

"You don't have to play games to make *me* happy," Angel said. "I don't want games. I don't *like* games. Don't say things just because you think that's what I want to hear. Say them only if you mean them."

"My Lord, I don't understand the difference," Wesley said. "I *meant* that I would submit to you."

"I know that you would," Angel said. "But you answered on a guess. It's like you were reading a script instead of talking. I want you to talk. Say what you feel, even if you don't know what you feel. Okay?"

"Yes, my Lord," Wes said.

Angel wasn't certain Wes got it yet, but he decided not to press. "Standard answer, huh?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Doesn't that leave some people out of the loop?" Angel asked.

Wes looked up at him. "My Lord?"

"Not everybody like subs," Angel said. "What if I'd been a big nelly bottom?"

Wes stared at him.

"What?" Angel asked. "It could happen."

"If my Lord says so," Wes said, settling back down again.

"I'm not saying it's a *habit*," Angel replied. "But c'mon. There have to be *some* people out there who have spouses and who aren't into being on top."

"We are trained in techniques for both," Wesley said. "But it's not very common."

"Plenty of people out there like being on the bottom, Wes," Angel said.

"Not many of them feel called to marry people who are bound by rules of dependence, a life of training that lends itself readily to enforced helplessness, and an ability to miraculously hide any damage that is done to them, my Lord," Wesley replied.

Angel felt himself grow cold. "An ability to do what?"

"Spouses are to make no demands of their wives or husbands," Wes recited, too busy staring at the fire to notice Angel's reaction. "If we are hurt, we are to immediately take care of that and not let our wives or husbands be bothered by it."

"How?"

"We are trained in all kinds of healing arts, my Lord."

"Wes," Angel said, carefully, "is this something you're *particularly* skilled at?"

Angel could feel Wes frown. "My Lord?"

"Have you had to do it a lot, is what I'm asking."

"A lot compared to what, my Lord?" Wesley asked.

"I don't know," Angel admitted.

Wes sat up, looking Angel directly in the eye. "You don't hurt me, my Lord."

"But it's not unusual for husbands to do that, is it?" Angel asked. "It's not unusual for people to abuse spouses within the rules of protocol."

"It's not unheard of," Wesley said. "Those we are married to can do anything they like to us. If that includes hurting us, so be it."

"You thought I was going to be like that," Angel said. "You thought you were being sent to a monster."

"You're a vampire, my Lord," Wesley said. "And an infamous sadist."

"And if I hurt you, you'd have to sit there and take it," Angel said. "Christ. No wonder you have panic attacks."

Wesley shook his head. "I am not afraid of you, my Lord."

"You were."

"I was wrong," Wes sat up straighter. "You are kind, and generous. I feel *safe* with you, my Lord. It's a rather unique feeling."

"It's actually not supposed to be, Wes," Angel told him.

"It is to me," Wesley said.

Angel pulled him into his arms again. He held him tight. "Wes, I don't know what insane world you came from, but we have got to fix this."

"I have you," Wesley said.

"It's not enough," Angel rubbed his hand up and down Wes's back. Hieronymus mimicked the gesture by kneading Wes's side. "You - You've been sold a bill of goods somewhere, Wes. I just can't figure out where yet."

"I'm sorry, my Lord."

"It's nothing you have to apologize for," Angel let his hand rest on the small of Wes's back, letting the heat from Wes's body seep into his own skin. "But I *will* do this. Did you know that Randy says you're highly in demand?"

Wes sat up so quickly he bumped his head against Angel's chin. "My Lord?"

"He babbled a lot," Angel said, "and if you don't help with translations over dinner I am definitely not going to get all of it. But that part I got. He says you're highly in demand. He said everybody he knew wanted to have you."

"When did my Lord speak with Lord Randolph?" Wesley asked.

"It wasn't on purpose and believe me I would've rather you'd been there," Angel said. "But he approached me and I didn't want to start a war or anything. So I made nice. He says everybody wants you."

There was a twitch along Wes's jaw. "Lord Randolph is - "

"Don't be diplomatic."

"He doesn't know enough people to make that judgment, my Lord," Wesley said. "He doesn't know the *right* people."

"Who are the right people?" Angel asked.

Wes gave a sad smile. "The ones who thought my ideal husband would be a vampire."

"I am so sorry, Wes," Angel whispered.

Wes settled into his arms again. "My Lord, don't be."