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Lost Boys	By : Spacey Category: Angel the Series > Slash - Male/Male > Angel(us)/Wesley > Angel(us)/Wesley Views: 2496 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own AtS. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 7

“Thank you. No, I appreciate it. Goodbye.”

Two pairs of expectant eyes turned to the vampire.

“He said Gunn was talking to a Steareth demon before he disappeared. Apparently, this demon took him somewhere--the details are kind of fuzzy. I’m getting it third hand, but some kid saw them leave in Gunn’s truck. A half-hour later the demon returns, Gunn doesn’t.”

“Do we know where this demon is?”

“No, but they do. He’s a mercenary--sells information, muscle for hire. Goldie said he comes by pretty regularly. He’ll call when the demon comes by tonight. *If* he comes by…”

“So we just have to wait?” Cordelia’s frustration was as obvious as Wesley’s. He tried to console her.

“For now. Don’t worry Cordy. We’ll find him.“ The reassurances sounded weak even to Wesley’s own ears, but the girl smiled gratefully at him.

“You two have been awake all night and you need to get some sleep. I’ll stay near the phone and wake you when I hear something.”

“Thank you, Cordelia. That’s very thoughtful of you.” Wesley smiled weakly with exhaustion and began to slip his coat on.

“Wesley, you can hardly move, let alone drive. You should stay in Angel’s apartment. He has a couch. Right Angel?”

“I’m sure Angel doesn’t—“

“Of course you can stay, Wesley.”

“I *have* a home of my own,” Wesley snapped defensively.

"No one said you didn’t, Wes, but if Goldie hears from Gunn or this demon it would be convenient for you to be close by,” Angel reasoned

Too weak to argue, the ex-Watcher gave in to his companion’s argument and allowed Angel to lead him downstairs and to the couch that dominated his small living room.

“It’s not much…and it’s a bit lumpy…and it sort of smells…and Cordy spilled nail polish remover on the arm last month-you know, you could probably take my bed and I’ll take the couch—“

“Angel. This will be more than adequate. Thank you.”

Angel placed several large blankets on the lumpy menace and turned with some discomfort to his own bed. His usual practice of sleeping nude would have to be forgone today. It wouldn’t really make him a good host if he gave his guest a peep show. He settled, instead, for taking off his shirt and pants and slipping between cool sheets in only his boxers. Ie die dim pre-dawn light, Angel watched as Wesley removed his glasses and placed them gingerly on a low table. Angel knew he was exhausted because Wesley was making slow progress taking off his shirt. His fingers were trembling at each button and the tall man let out a small sigh of relief when the shirt was finally open. Realizing that he was staring, Angel turned to face away from the other man, giving him his privacy.

Across the small studio, Wesley’s mind was whirling. The image of Angel’s broad back and boxer-clad ass was still swimming behind his eyes. He turned from the ornate bed where the vampire lay as he removed his pants, worried that the vamp’s unusual eyesight might take in the suspicious bulge that had risen, unbidden. Wesley was mortified. Gunn was in danger, children’s lives were at stake, and he was ogling his friend. Boss. Partner? Wesley slipped into bed as he mulled this thought over in this head. If--when--they found Gunn and the Dak’tari, what would come next? Would he go back to Tucson or up to Barstow? The path that lay before him was as unidentifiable as it had been when he left Sunnydale. One thing was clear to him. Sitting in Angel’s small kitchen with Cordelia and Gunn, watching the easy camaraderie they had with Angel and partaking of it himself, that had been a beautiful and alien experience. One he had heard of but never experienced.

That had felt like home.

***

((The room under the stairs is small but warm. Part of Wesley wants to be there, is grateful when his father's punishments send him to the enclosed room that smells of wood and camphor. There are no blankets, no pillows, no food or water. Just the small space no larger than the boot of an automobile. But still, it is comforting to know that while he is being "punished" he will have privacy.

Wesley uses the time to his advantage, knowing his time in the space could be hours or days but always, always alone. His thoughts wander, as they so often did, to the beautiful blond boy in his Interdimensional Physics class. His skin was so dark, the hairs on his arms pale{D}-almost silver. Jeffrey. The first boy he'd kissed, but not the last. Reminiscing, Wesley strokes languorously over the bulge in his pants as he had as a young man. He wouldn’t have dared then, so why does he feel so uninhibited now?

Ah…The thought is both simple and disappointing. Because he is dreaming. He strokes again, harder this time, determined to enjoy his brief period of solitude, however imagined it might be. He unfastens his trousers, slipping his hand inside to stroke at rigid flesh. Blissful. How long has it been since he's allowed himself this pleasure? He does not know, but he imagines it to be far too long.

Suddenly, the closet door is thrust opened. But it can't be, because he's only been in The Room for a day and surely getting fired from the Watcher's Counsel is worthy of at least a week in The Room?

But when Wesley's eyes finally adjust to the bright lights, he realizes that he's not in his home in England, but in the main office of Angel Inc. Nor is it his father, come to punish him for his failures, but a looming man, larger and more beautiful than any human man has the right to be. Then again, this man isn't human.

"Angel?"

The vampire is breathing heavily and Wesley knows that somehow this fact is wrong. He wants to stop his dream, perhaps consult with his subconscious and remind it that vampires don't pant, but before he can utter a another word, his mouth is covered by Angel's hand. The vampire pushes him forcefully against the door of The Room, keeping his hand over Wesley's mouth. The ex-Watcher thinks that perhaps Angel means to feed from him or turn him, two prospects that fill him with neither dread nor fear. Instead, Angel's free hand runs up and over Wesley's hip and straight to his cock, still jutting from his open trousers.

A cold hand grips his flesh and strips it hard once, twice, three times. And Wesley is screaming now. Screaming because it's both so good and so wrong. His body is trembling and he tries tll all at Angel's clothes, to make this experience mutual in some way, but Angel slaps him roughly away, then resumes jerking him off.

When Wesley comes, he screams again, harder. It comes out as a muffled cry, Angel's hand still in place. The vampire finally brings a come-coated hand to his lips, licking greedily.

"You taste so good, Wesley." Angel offers the hand to the Englishman, who licks tentatively. "So good." Angel suddenly pulls his hand away and rips at Wesley's shirt. At Wesley's blue shirt. His blood-soaked blue shirt.

"That's gonna leave a scar," Angel predicts. When Wesley looks down, he sees his body criss-crossed with wounds. Largest of all are the three recent claw marks but there are others. Some self-inflicted, but most the results of being too slow or too foolhardy. All of them are bleeding now, as if fresh. "Now *that's* more like it!" Angel cries, nuzzling his face into the crimson streaks of Wesley's chest.

Wesley watches Angel lap at the streaks and he isn't sure if he should be disgusted, fearful, or aroused. The limp flesh struggling to life between his legs holds the answer.

"FOOLISH, DISGUSTING BOY!"

Wesley shakes, pushing the vampire away from his chest. Only now it isn't Angel at all, but his father.

"Always knew it would come to this. It's a good thing your mother never found out!"

"Father, I--"

"Save your ridiculous excuses! I'll hear none of them! It's to the closet for you." As Wesley's being shoved forcefully into the closet, he feels an absurd sense of relief; The Room has always had it's own measure of peace, even in the most pal ofl of times. Then he sees the room's occupants and his heart stops. Animated corpses, each of them in stages of decay and decomposition. "If *I* can't teach you what it is to be a Watcher, perhaps these fellows will do the trick…"

Rough hands shove him the final distance into The Room and Wesley feels himself being touched, clawed, pulled apart and bleeding…because The Room is for the failures. The bad seeds. The Room is for the weak and the timid. The Room is where Wesley belongs…))

***

“Wesley? Wesley, wake up.”

“What time is it?” The ex-Watcher scrambled for his glasses.

“Almost six. The sun is going down. Angel told me to wake you up.”

“How long have I been asleep?”

“Nearly twelve hours.”

“Oh my goodness!” Wesley stood and began pulling on his clothes, oblivious of the young woman beside him. “Have we heard anything?”

“Yeah. They found the demon that Gunn was talking to and Goldie says they’ll hold him until we get there.”

“Okay, thank goodness. Wesley began pulling on his shoes and socks.

“Wes. Maybe it’s none of my business, but are you okay? Really okay?”

Wesley paused in the middle of drawing on his shoe. “Oh, Cordelia. Always the mother, aren’t you? I’m fine,” he said quietly.

“I am NOT a mother!” Cordy exclaimed in horror. ”I’m—I’m a babysitter….or a charming, sexy aunt!”

“Yes, yes Aunt Cordelia…” Wesley laughed softly. She smiled.

“You’ll be fine, Wes. You just need to heal.” Her warm brown eyes gazed into the Englishman’s with wisdom. Both knew she was speaking of more than the deep cuts on his chest or the shallow gash on his arm. Several seconds passed and Wesley broke her gaze.

“Perhaps you’re right.”

***

“Oh my stars! He stinks!” Cordelia turned her head tactlessly and held her nose.

“Yeah? Well you humans don’t smell so swell yourself.” The demon writhed in the grasp of several young humans.

“This young man,“ Wesley indicated a young boy standing near Cordelia, ”seems to think you know where our friend Gunn is. You spoke to him last night. Black shirt, shaved head, pickup truck?”

“They’ll suck me! They’ll suck me if I tell!” The demon began to writhe more furiously.

“That is the single most disgusting site I’ve ever witnessed. I’m waiting in the car.” Cordelia cringed and made her way to the curb.

“I don’t think this guy is going to tell us what we want to know,“ Goldie said with an evil smile.

“Well, “ Wesley stepped in smoothly, “I suppose Angel will just have to cut off his lips and see if that makes speaking easier.”

Angel cocked his head theatrically to the side. “Hummm…okay.” He removed the knife from Wesley’s belt and stepped closely to the rank demon.

“Okay, okay. I’ll tell you--but I won’t take you there like I did that other guy. Those Feeders…ugh! They gimme the creeps.”

“I’m afraid Angel might be inclined to disagree with that plan. Angel?” Wesley turned questioning eyes to the vampire.

”Get in the car. Both of you,” the vampire ordered.

Much to Cordy’s dismay, the demon was forced into the waiting Cadillac while Goldie and his crew piled in to a beat up Volkswagen that had seen better days. With reluctant directions from the demon, they made their way across L.A. to the outskirts of the city, hoping that Gunn would be well when they found him.

TBC
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- 8
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Lost Boys