Angel / Protocol / Part Six

PART SIX

Dinner took more work than usual. Meat? Yeah. Starch? Yeah. Vegetables? … Okay, fine. Blood? Yeah - no! No! Cancel that. Do that part later. Human stuff. Stick with human. In fact, human servant too. Human food, human servant, maybe make it sort of British-y if the kitchen could swing it and - oo! Anything with chocolate? Chocolate could be good for a wedding night dinner, right? And champagne? Did people do champagne after weddings? Or was that during?

Angel had gotten a slightly puzzled look from the demon that had come to his door to take the order ("Varhatan, isn't it?" "Jim, sir." "Right, Jim. Nice to see you again. So about that champagne thing…") and then a promise that something would be up shortly.

Which left him alone with Wesley again.

"Scotch, you said?" Wesley asked, handing him a tumbler.

"Thanks," Angel said. He took a sip. Then another. Then another. And then he realized that Wes wasn't going to do a thing to help out with the conversation. "So… trip go all right?"

"It was perfectly fine," Wesley said.

"Good, good," Angel said. "No problems or anything?"

"No," Wesley said.

Angel frowned. "Did I already ask you that?"

"You did," Wesley said.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"You said we were starting over."

"I didn't mean it *literally*."

"I didn't want to presume."

"Are you always this hard to talk to?" Angel asked.

Wes seemed to stifle a smirk, and replied, "I'm sorry if my answers do not satisfy you, my Lord."

Angel mulled over the reappearance of the title. "You say that whenever you're thinking something rude, don't you?"

"I have found it's often best to be at my most respectful when my comments or demeanor might give offense," Wesley said.

"So pretty much yes, would be the answer."

Definite smirk now. "Yes."

"Okay," Angel said. "What are you thinking?"

"Small talk isn't your forte, is it, my Lord?" Wesley asked.

"Really no," Angel said. He sat down on the couch, motioning Wes to feel free to get comfortable as well if he wanted to. "You any better?"

"If you'd like me to try," Wesley said. He sat down on one of the chairs, his scotch held politely in front of him.

"You can't try that automatically?" Angel asked.

Wesley shook his head. "I am to follow your lead."

"Seriously?" Angel asked.

"Yes," Wesley confirmed.

"Says who?"

"The Council."

"Thought you didn't work for them anymore," Angel said.

"I don't *belong* to them anymore," Wesley said. "But there are codes and rules - "

"Protocols," Angel guessed.

Wesley nodded. "Which must guide my behavior at all times, even though now I belong to you."

"It's just you and me," Angel said. "Why don't you drop them?"

"If you wished me to you could order that of me," Wesley said. "But only in private. In public I must at all times represent my role to the best of my ability."

"Why?" Angel asked.

"Because I am a representative of my class," Wesley said, then immediately clarified. "My class in society. To be a spouse has meaning. It is a status which both commands respect and which instantly proclaims itself as a commodity. It is my duty to honor that by making certain that any who meet me will see what it means to have one of us for their own."

"Walking advertisements, in other words," Angel said.

"Effectively, yes," Wesley admitted. "But is it really any different from how you would ask one of your representatives to behave while they were in someone else's territory?"

"I get that," Angel said. He sat back, propping one foot up on the table in front of him. "But aren't you mine? Don't you represent me now?"

"I do both," Wesley said. "I represent you *as* your spouse. My duty as one supports the other."

"So in private I can ask you to do whatever I want," Angel said. "But in public you answer to the Council first, then me second."

Wesley shook his head. "No, no, nothing like that. I am *always* yours. Your orders supercede anything else that I am told to do. No one else can order me now. Only you."

"Why can't I order you not to follow all those protocols then?" Angel asked.

Wesley pressed his lips together. "Permission to answer honestly, my Lord?"

"You really need to remember that's a given," Angel said. "Go on."

"You'd be phenomenally stupid to do so," Wesley said.

"Well, that's honest," Angel conceded. "Why?"

"You have been given something of historic importance," Wesley said. "I say that not to be arrogant about my abilities, but rather to explain to you the impact that your deal has had. Demons have *never* been allowed to have spouses before. You are the first. For you to be given one means that the Council and all of its allies are willing to accept you in their political arena. To negotiate with you and deal with you on human terms."

"Sounds great to me so far," Angel said.

"Indeed," Wesley said. "But if anyone were to discover that you had no idea what to *do* with a spouse - that in fact you had allowed one to abandon all of his training and run wild, you would be turned into a laughingstock. They would know that you were in no way savvy, and you would lose all respect. After all, if you can't control me, how on earth can you control your kingdom?"

"Wasn't planning on letting you run *wild*," Angel said. "Just thinking maybe from time to time you get to walk ahead of me or something."

"I wouldn't advise it, my Lord," Wesley said.

"Using the title again," Angel said. "Okay. But how is this fair to you?"

Wesley frowned. "I don't understand."

"This isn't equal," Angel said.

"Correct," Wesley said.

Angel waited for the shoe to drop. When nothing was forthcoming, he said, "I was pretty much done there. It's not equal."

"It's not meant to be," Wesley said. "I serve you. My duty is to you."

"And that makes you happy?" Angel asked.

Wesley turned his glass around in his hands before answering. "I am happy to do my duty, yes."

"Don't give me the stock answer," Angel said.

"It isn't," Wesley said, looking up. "It wasn't. Angel, you have asked for my honesty and I am giving it to you. This is my role. It is what I have worked my entire life to become. Though I never imagined who I would one day be pledged to, I *did* imagine that when the time came that I was called I would rise to the occasion and show my husband and - and show all that I could do. If you think that ordering me to abandon my life's training would in some way make me happy, I must tell you that the answer is no."

Angel wondered what word had been swallowed in Wesley's little stutter, but decided not to pursue it for now. "You're sure about this?"

"Positive," Wesley said.

"Okay," Angel said. "I'll trust you. But in here I want that informality. I don't want a stuffed shirt. I want a partner."

"I hope to be that for you," Wesley said.

A detail from Wesley's story stood out to him. "You didn't imagine who you'd be paired with?"

Wesley shook his head. "No."

"Why?" Angel asked.

"It is forbidden," Wesley said. "It isn't about our wants or desires. It is about us serving our wife or our husband. We aren't paired based upon our needs, but on yours."

"Doesn't that cause problems?" Angel asked, then suddenly got it. "Oh. Yeah. Love spell."

Wesley nodded. "It is traditional."

"Guess that really would remove all the cultural differences," Angel said. He looked at Wes with new eyes. "Um - is the vampire thing our *only* cultural difference? Because if you don't like guys this is going to be one Hell of a miserable night for you."

"I enjoy the company of men," Wesley promised.

"Good to know," Angel said. "'cause I was starting to see the upside of that love potion for a second."

Wesley quirked his eyebrows. "Did I mention I'm an avowed heterosexual?"

"Nice try," Angel said. "Is that why they picked you for me?"

Wesley frowned. "My heterosexuality? My Lord, I was joking."

"I love how you say that when what you're really thinking is I'm an idiot," Angel said, without rancor. "No, I meant you liking guys. Was that a factor in why they picked you for me?"

Wesley became quiet, then drew himself up straight. "No. That was not an issue. If I did not like men then the potion would have taken care of that. I would have loved you and wanted you in every possible way."

Angel had the feeling they were skirting important information. "Why did they pick you then?"

"I - " Wesley's face was tight, and withdrawn. "The Council felt I was ideally suited to the task."

Angel sat forward, resting his hands on his knees. "Give me the honest answer."

Wesley appeared to think about it. "My Lord, as my duty is to you above all else, I… I should make you aware that it is within my power to make you privy to things you might not already be aware of. My ultimate loyalty is to *you*, not to the Council."

Angel translated that. "You're going to tell me something I probably won't like to hear."

"Yes," Wesley said.

"Can probably already guess what it is," Angel said. "But go on. Hit me."

"The Council - " Wesley started, then stopped. He looked up, his blue eyes determined. "My Lord, I am very good at my job."

"Didn't doubt it for a second," Angel said.

"I *am*," Wesley said. "I know that sounds arrogant but I do very well at what I do. I received high marks in all of my classes, I learn quickly, I even took a great deal of extra-curricular. I *am* good. I know there is a great deal I must learn about you in order to serve you specifically, but I don't think I shall give you reason to be especially disappointed in me." Then, as though realizing how much he'd deviated from any kind of Council-approved script, Wesley quickly added, "Though it is of course your domain and your domain only to judge if I please you."

"Not disappointed yet," Angel promised. He tried to play it non-chalant. "Why'd you mention it?"

"Because there are those on the Council who would disagree with my assessment of myself," Wesley said. Though his posture had in no way changed, he still looked as though a light had dimmed behind his eyes.

"Suddenly a hump's not so funny anymore," Angel murmured.

Wesley's brows beetled together. "Pardon?"

Angel shook his head. "Nothing. I - look, I pretty much guessed the Council was going to send somebody with some kind of twist to them. I mean that's why they sent a guy, right? No chance of us having heirs?"

"I believe that was part of it, yes," Wesley confirmed.

"But, the thing is," Angel said, shifting over so he was sitting closer to Wesley, "here's where the outcome of those protocols comes in. Because I know you guys have a reputation, and part of that is that you're all damned good. You're telling me maybe the Council didn't like you and that's fine, 'cause they don't like me either. But if you think I'm worried about you not being good enough - I'm not. I know you guys are amazing. I know you'll be amazing for me too."

"Thank you, my Lord," Wesley said.

Angel frowned. "What'd I say that was stupid that time?"

Wesley smiled, shaking his head. "That was genuine gratitude, my - Angel."

Angel grinned. "Keep stumbling like that and you're going to end up giving me a new nickname."

"That's only a problem if you don't like it," Wesley told him.

"Not hating it yet," Angel said.

"I'll keep using it then," Wesley promised. "But it can't replace more formal terms - "

" - outside these doors," Angel finished. "Yeah. Got it. Protocols."

"They really do have their place," Wesley said. Then offered, "I can certainly follow all of yours if you have any."

"I'm guessing nothing you haven't already figured out," Angel said. "Except - wait."

"Yes?" Wesley said.

Angel got up. He crossed over to the wall beside the fireplace. He pushed aside the Vermeer to reveal the wall safe. "Got something for you."

Wesley turned away to give him privacy. "Thank you."

Angel stopped working the combination. "Wesley? Come back."

Wesley looked at him again. "My Lord?"

"I'm guessing that time was uncertainty," Angel said. He gestured to the safe. "We're married. You're my spouse. That means we've got a bond that nobody else does. That means I trust you with the combinations to my stuff."

"I didn't want to assume," Wesley said.

"Well stop doing that," Angel said. He turned back to the lock. "Partner means partner. You've got full access on anything we do together."

"Thank you," Wesley said.

"You've got your rules, I've got mine," Angel said. He pulled a box out of the safe, then closed everything up again. "Mine includes this."

"You're still more generous than most would be," Wesley said.

"Really?" Angel asked.

"Most would have had me take the potion," Wesley pointed out.

"Guess you could say I'm not most," Angel said. He sat down on the table, directly across from Wesley. He held the box out. "Here."

Wesley opened it. "They're lovely."

"I hope they fit," Angel said, shifting over so he could see the gold rings tucked safely into the velvet. "Or - that yours does. We kinda had to guess the size."

"I'm sure it will be fine," Wesley said. He handed the box back. "We can fix it if it's not," Angel said. "They were made here, it won't be a problem."

"It will be an honor to wear your ring, my Lord," Wesley said. Then, before Angel could guess, he said, "That's the ceremonial response."

"Gotcha," Angel said. He tilted his head curiously. "Did you? Want a ceremony?"

Wesley shook his head. "I have no wants or desires in this matter."

"You're kidding."

"Honestly, I'm not," Wesley said. "Angel, from the time I was a small child I was raised to be a spouse to someone. I know that most people sit and dream and have the expectation of what their wedding would be like but - " Wesley gave a half-smile " - I am not most. My expectation was only that I would be told what it would be like once my husband was picked out for me."

"I just don't want you thinking this isn't important to me," Angel said. "That I'm not taking it seriously."

"I believe you are taking it very seriously," Wesley said.

Angel twisted the box in his hands. "I've been married once before, you know."

"I know," Wesley said.

"Were you - no, of course not," Angel said. Then, worried, "*Have* you - I mean, this being the night - I'm just - I mean the cultural differences thing and I wouldn't want you to - "

Wesley leaned forward, catching Angel's mouth in a kiss. Angel was surprised, even as his lips moved in response. Had he been leading up to this? Actually, yeah. Yeah he had. He'd been babbling and focusing on the tiny details because he couldn't wrap his brain around crossing that final barrier and just *touching* him already.

Luckily, Wes didn't seem to have that problem.

"My Lord," Wesley said, when their mouths finally parted. "With due respect I cannot learn skills without practical application. I am not innocent, but that is not something for your concern. I am here to please you. If you would like me to do that now, it is my honor to do so."

Angel leaned forward again. Concerns mentioned to Spike aside, the reality of this was actually a lot different and Angel's body, male to the end, was more than happy to answer a resounding "Yes!" to someone point blank offering to let him have his way.

Except something niggled at him and made him pull back.

"Rehearsed," he said. And he *got* it. Wesley kissed first to get it over with. That was *his* nerves talking. "That's the Council again."

Emotions flickered in Wesley's eyes. "My Lord, it is ceremony."

"No," Angel said. "No. *This* is ceremony. What we're doing now is ceremony. It's marriage and it's sacred and I'm not doing this with either one of us reading from a script. I know we don't have all the trust or love or anything down yet, but can we at least try for real emotions? Real enjoyment?"

Wesley actually looked hurt. "My Lord, that's what I was doing."

"My enjoyment," Angel said. "With my own personal sex kitten. Which - believe me - I'm not saying I hate the concept. But what about you?"

Wesley shook his head. "It's not my job to - "

"You have *got* to be kidding me," Angel said, then immediately held up a hand in apology. "No, you aren't. I know." He sighed. "Lemme guess: trained your whole life not to care about anything but making sure your husband was satisfied?"

Wesley nodded.

"Council's a real bunch of assholes, you know that?" Angel asked.

A tiny smile touched Wesley's lips. "You wouldn't be the first to observe so."

Angel gave him a smile back, then rubbed his eyes. "Okay, look. I know this is weird and awkward and the fact that dinner's going to be getting here any second probably isn't going to help but - I want to do this. And I want to do it right. Which means I want to do this with you, and not do something that's pretty much you helping me masturbate. Think you can turn off the Council long enough to actually try to enjoy yourself?"

Wesley looked uncertain. "I can try."

"All I'm asking," Angel said. He took Wesley by the hand, leading him back into the bedroom. "They'll leave the food out here for us. They'll know to leave us alone."

"Good to know," Wesley said.

They were in the bedroom. Angel closed the door for privacy. The only light came from the fireplace. Angel thought about adding more but stopped when he wondered if it might be easier for Wesley in the dark.

Wesley, for his part, stayed by the fire. He wrapped his arms around himself, rubbing them as though for warmth.

"Cold?" Angel asked.

"A little," Wesley admitted. He gave a sheepish smile. "I thought Los Angeles wasn't supposed to be chilly."

"It's not supposed to be overrun by demons either," Angel said. "We're working on it."

The comment earned him one of Wesley's rare, genuine smiles.

Angel felt bolder with it. He stepped forward, holding up the box again. "Here. Start with this. A promise to serve each other kind of a thing,"

Wesley held out his hand. "That is my promise to you."

"Mine to you," Angel said. "Seriously. You're under my protection. I promise I'll take care of you."

"Thank you," Wesley said, and Angel wondered if the words had been adequate or if Wesley had really heard them.

Angel slipped the ring on Wesley's finger. "Hey, it fits."

"Shall I do yours?" Wesley asked.

"Yeah," Angel said. He held still while Wesley guided the ring over his knuckles. He had a sense memory of his first wedding, and of Darla. The current arrangement with Wesley couldn't have been more different if he'd tried, but if nothing else Angel felt certain she would have approved of the political advantages of the relationship.

"There," Wesley said, when the gold had settled into place. His fingers lingered there, as though waiting to be told what to do. The uncertainty Angel felt was mirrored in Wesley's eyes. "I - what would you like, my - "

"Don't," Angel said. Which as an opening line was admittedly not one of his best, but at least it drove the point home. Don't talk. Don't retreat back into the scripted stuff. Don't get scared. Don't run off.

He wasn't sure when in all of this he'd realized that Wesley did that when things got rough. Used words like a shield, used his mind like a fortress. And not that he blamed Wesley for it in the slightest, he didn't want that now. Protection meant fear. Fear meant not trusting Angel. And for *this*, for this especially, Angel wanted that trust.

But he knew he'd have to earn it.

Kissing was easy to start. He held Wesley's hand in his own, keeping him close as he brought their mouths together again. They'd done this already. It wasn't as difficult as the first time. The barrier of air wasn't as impenetrable as it had been just minutes before.

Wesley kissed him back. The defenses were up again, Angel could tell that. Wesley moved his lips and his tongue in a way that was nice but which the tension in his shoulders said he'd studied that. *Practiced* that. Done this time and again like sex had choreography, like it was only a dance.

"No," Angel said, gently. He pressed his lips to Wesley's cheek, his jaw, keeping up the contact so he wouldn't have to restart it again. "Don't think."

"I'm not sure I can stop," Wesley said. He was shaking. No amount of adherence to rules or courtesy could hide it.

It was probably fear, but Angel treated it like cold. "Come on. Get under the covers."

Into the bed then, with its soft sheets and thick heavy blankets that were placed there not because Angel felt cold but because he felt better sleeping under weight. Wesley toed off shoes and socks, then crawled in as Angel held the bedding out of the way for him. Angel got rid of his own then joined him inside.

"Better?" Angel asked.

"Yes," Wesley said.

Angel pulled him close. Wesley offered his mouth up but Angel only gave it a passing touch. He wanted more now. Things that Wesley's brain couldn't think of. Anything that could bypass decades of being told not to care.

He thought about Wesley's neck, but avoided it. Wesley was scared of vampires. No need to jab a hot poker directly into that phobia.

Angel went lower instead. He caressed Wesley's chest, then worked at his shirt buttons. The fine skin exposed, Angel bent his head to it. He kissed and licked and sucked, his fingers teasing at nipples that grew red and hard at the touch. He gave tiny bites, then soothed them immediately with his tongue.

Wesley tried to reciprocate. His hands roamed Angel's back, massaging the muscles, then tugging at the clothes. "My Lord, may I - "

"No," Angel said again. He took Wesley's hands and placed them flat on the bed. "Don't *think*," he repeated. Then kissed Wesley before he could respond.

Deeper kiss this time. Tongue deep, and probing. His hands kept up the movement, fingertips rubbing and tormenting Wesley's nipple until - there! Yes! A response. A second of tension. A quick, fleeting gasp. But it had been pleasure, and Wesley had felt it.

Angel tried to draw it out again.

Wesley reacted like a lucid dreamer forgetting how to make contact with his world. He bobbed in and out of awareness of his role. One moment eyes shut, breathing faster, hands tightening in sheets, the next trying to initiate actions only to be reminded no, don't move, don't think.

"My Lord," Wesley whispered, as he tried to claim Angel's mouth in a kiss.

"Stop it," Angel reminded him, then finally moved his hand below Wesley's waistline.

He was hard - Hell, they both were - but still it took time to tame Wesley's urges. To still his insistence on acting and instead focus only on being touched.

Angel started with the clothes on. A hand up and down the inner thigh. A knee placed perfectly between the legs. A finger at the seam on his backside which hit just *so* and promised what might come later.

Wesley's lips were parted, his hands clutching at Angel's arms now. "I - I - "

"Good," Angel said. He kissed him - eyes, to cheeks, to lips. "Good."

Wesley wasn't still anymore. His muscles shook, his hips would not stop moving. He would thrust, then pause, thrust, then pause, as though wanting and then chastising himself for doing so.

Angel remembered Wesley's words: he was happy when he was doing his job. Hoping it might apply here, Angel rolled over, letting Wesley get on top. "Go on," he said. "Please me."

Wesley's eyes were dark, his lips swollen, and his hands amazingly eager.

Angel's shirt was gone. His pants undone. And when Wesley's mouth found the tip of his cock Angel had to cry out and admit yes, yes, Wesley *did* know what he was doing. The tongue, the teeth, the lips, the -

"Okay now," Angel said. He hauled Wesley up again, realizing the point of this was very quickly going to be lost if Wesley got his way. "No more of that."

Wesley looked disappointed. "My Lord - "

Angel bypassed the reminder about titles. He let a hand cup Wesley's erection to drive the point home. "I want *that*."

Wesley's eyes fluttered shut. His hips moved forward. "I - yes - "

"*Good*," Angel said, then got Wesley into place.

Whatever complaint Wesley might have had about Angel refusing him the comfort of Council started to vanish once the rest of his clothes were off. Angel immediately started stroking Wesley's dick, tugging his balls, and then sliding lube-slicked fingers into him in a rhythm that made Wesley bite his own lower lip and press back as though begging for more.

Angel got him onto his hands and knees. He teased him - the both of them - by rubbing his cock against Wesley's ass, feeling that friction against his aching flesh and - God, yeah, he wasn't without feeling. Wesley *was* tasty, and pretty, and moved so nice and sounded so good with the noises he was making in the back of his throat and - fuck, yes, with the little squirm he just did and had this ever been *weird*? Awkward? Had he ever at one point *not* wanted to shove himself deep inside that tight, inviting -

Angel thrust into him, possibly faster than he should have but Wesley only moaned, and leaned back. Angel did it again, then again, then Wesley was matching him beat for beat but no, Angel put a stop to that, throwing Wesley off with jerks of his hand and bites along his shoulder and soon Wesley was crying out, gasping, whimpering and then stuttering out -

"Please - my Lord - my - my Angel - please - "

And Angel saw white, brilliant, blinding white as he came, shuddering so hard he slapped his free hand against the wall to drive the energy out of him and not into the fragile mortal body below, and Wesley was sobbing in air, and jerking in his arms, and making hiccupping noises of pleasure and joy as his own body spasmed, and trembled and then with a final gasp fell right over the edge.

They collapsed, Wesley puddled in his arms, and Angel smiled and held him close.