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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
- 8
- 9
Chapter 9

"I'm so *stupid*!" Gunn said for the third time that night. Cordelia was gently patching up a cut on his arm. Wesley's head was already bandaged--his third wound in as many days. That was something of a record.

"No, you're not Gunn," Angel reassured for the third time that night. "You wanted to help and you were following up on a lead."

"I should have called you! I should have brought someone else with me. That Jabba the Hut wannabe told me where to go and I went. Don't think I got ten steps through the door and one of those Feeders was all over me. Next thing I know, English here is giving me back my soul and Cordy's makin' Feeder-kabobs."

"Hey, what about me?" Angel said defensively. "I did the stabbing…with the tentacles…and…and the stabbing?"

Cordelia patted him on the hand. "We know you helped, Angel. You get your smiley sticker for the day."

"Well at least you guys got the kid back to his dad, with no help from me," Gunn added ruefully.

"Are you kidding?" Cordy asked. "Between my vision and your cologne, you led us right to him."

"That smell was *not* my cologne, Princess. If you wanna smell something rank, take a whiff of Angel's nasty-ass cologne--"

"That 'nasty-ass' cologne costs $200 a bottle--"

"Well you couldn't tell from smelling it…"

Wesley watched them banter with a bemused expression. Ah, to be part of such a family. To be supported and loved…It was enviable.

"Thank you all," Wesley said quietly, pulling on his jacket. "I'm very grateful for all you've done--"

"Oh, no. Wait there, Mr. I'm-so-cool-I'll-just-slink-out-without-discussing-it-with-my-friends. Where are you going to go?"

Wesley grimaced. "I haven't actually given it much thought. Back to Tucson, perhaps. Barstow, maybe."

Gunn and Angel exchanged looks. "Wesley," Angel started, "we sort of hoped that you'd stay here. With us."

"Yeah," Cordelia added. "Like old times…except with Gunn. And not in Sunnydale. And with you not being quite so English. But other than that, like old times."

Wesley smiled sadly. "Thank you, Cordelia. That sounds like a wonderful offer." He swallowed hard. What they were offering…he wasn't worthy of it. He'd failed so many times: in Sunnydale, in the counsel, in countless ways to his father. Gunn and Cordelia had a champion and Angel had a family. As much as he envied it, he couldn't infringe on that. He didn't deserve their trust or their love; he'd only let them down. That was an inevitable conclusion.

"Ow!" Cordelia cried, clutching her head dramatically. "I'm having a VISION! Yes! It's clear…the Powers…they want…they want…They want YOU, Wesley! They think you should stay here…and be Book Guy!"

Wesley laughed. "You have a book guy already. I'm sure Gunn can't wait to dive into the Cimerian Codex and the Mre'dka Journals right after I leave." He couldn't help but add, "You know, the Cimerian Codex has over three hundred pages of footnotes, Charles."

Gunn groaned. "Come on, English. Anyone who can take down a brain sucker like the Dak'tari is okay by me. Don't make me change my opinion of you."

Angel shifted from foot to foot. Gunn and Cordelia didn't want Wesley to leave. He knew that. They needed his skill and his knowledge. He knew *that*. He just wasn't sure why, as the ex-Watcher slipped on his jacket, he felt his own almost desperate need to make him stay.

"Please, Wesley," Angel said quietly. "Please stay." Wesley's eyes bore into him and for a moment he could swear that there was something there, some heat or desire that Angel couldn't put his finger on. He tried hard to read those blue-green eyes. There was so much pain in them. Angel knew of pain. The pain of redemption, of lost love, of regrets and things left unsaid. "Please," he tried again and watched Wesley shudder and release a long-held breath.

"I'll stay," Wesley finally said after a moment. "But no inappropriate kissing in libraries," he added and Cordelia laughed, hugging him tight.

"Yeah! Now that you're staying, I'm going!" She pulled on her coat and began searching for her purse. "No offense, but you guys smell bad. And since we were all in that stinky warehouse together, that means *I* smell bad. And if *I* smell bad, I need to change that before anyone that matters smells me. I'll see you tomorrow?" she asked Wesley and the Englishman nodded. "Good. Bye now!"

The three men stared at the door as Cordelia swept out. "I think I'm gonna go to sleep, too, Angel. I'm kinda beat. Must be the whole 'having your essence sucked out' thing. Wes?" Gunn shook his hand warmly. "Welcome to the family." Then he hefted his sword and left, stifling a yawn.

"It's getting kind of late," Angel said, noting the dark circles under Wesley's eyes and the small bandage on his forehead. "You can stay here if you want. Like you did last night."

Wesley smiled. "I *have* an apartment, Angel. You need not mother me like Cordelia. But thank you." The Englishman checked his watch and grimaced at the time.

"Come on, Wes. I'm not trying to mother you. It's almost two in the morning. You'll crash that motorcycle of yours." Wesley looked like he was wavering. "You're family now. Family take care of each other."

Wesley snorted bitterly and dropped his coat onto a chair. "I'll stay here tonight. If that's what family do."

*****

Another dream, more painful than the last, finally woke Wesley from his sleep. His body ached and his fresh wounds throbbed. His stomach was growling as well and as he staggered to his feet, he imagined that he must look a fright: bare chest scarred and pale, his body trembling with hunger and lack of sleep.

As he entered the small kitchen area, he realized that he didn't know if Angel kept human food in stock. Not knowing his way around Angel's kitchen and unwilling to wake the vampire for his help, he settled for peering sleepily into the contents of the refrigerator. A bright beam of light sliced through the dark kitchen when he opened the door and he clenched his eyes instinctively when the light struck them. It was nearly as empty as he imagined it would be, but he did find a half-empty bottle of orange juice. He unscrewed the cap and drank deeply from the container.

"I won't tell Cordelia that you drank straight from the carton."

Wesley froze to the spot. He turned slowly to find Angel sitting at the small dining table, arms crossed. He was only partially illuminated in the glow from the refrigerator. Still, Wesley was surprised that he hadn't seen him.

"What? Brooding in the dark now, are we?" He tried to be nonchalant and drank more of the juice. Inside, his heart was thundering. He tried to tell himself that it was the shock of seeing the vampire in a place he least expected, but he knew what wasn't really the case. Angel was staring at him, his arms crossed and his eyes dark.

"This is where I brood best," he admitted. "I haven't tasted much in the last fifty years or so." At Wesley's questioning stare, he explained. "The kitchen. It's a symbol, I guess. A symbol of things I've lost or can never have. Like the beach…or swimwear. It reminds me of who I am; it reminds me of who I can never be."

"Do you have a lot of these symbols?" Wesley asked, setting the container on the counter but unwilling to shut the refrigerator door.

"A few…kitchens, birthday parties, bedrooms--" Angel seemed to have more to say, but he stopped himself.

Wesley's skin was chilled from the refrigerator. He rubbed lightly at his arms, unsure of how to respond to Angel's confessions. Bedrooms. He couldn't help but think of the beautiful demon that Angel had left with before. "I suppose," he began slowly, "that you should appreciate all of the things you *are* allowed to enjoy. That's what a good psychologist would probably tell you."
"You know this from experience?" Angel asked and couldn’t help noticing the wince that he received in return. Wesley didn't answer, only shrugged.

In an effort to change the subject, Wesley said, "I've heard that Broadbent's on Orange Street has a rare codex that you might like for your library. We could go there tomorrow, if you wish, after the sun goes down and see if we can't purchase it."

Angel sighed deeply, his eyes cast upward. "I can't. Nalana set up an interview for me."

"Oh," Wesley stuttered, embarrassed. "Another new employee?" He tried hard to mask the jealousy in his voice.

"It's not that kind of interview. It's complicated. I did Nalana a favor a few years back and now she's trying to do me one."

"So…this woman, Nalana?"

"Yeah?"

"She's...a girlfriend, is she?"

Angel coughed and sat up. "No! I mean…why would you think that?"

"Well, she's quite lovely," Wesley hedged. "Mysterious… And you're--" He stopped.

"And *I'm*…what, Wes?"

Wesley's blood ran cold. What had he gotten himself into? Angel was staring at him now, his face still buried in shadow in the dark kitchen. Wesley felt obscenely cold and underdressed. His bare feet were like ice but he could feel his face burning red.

"You're…" Beautiful, Wesley wanted to finish. Attractive, desirable, the subject of more than a few fevered dreams since I left Sunnydale. "You're…"

But he couldn't finish that sentence. He wouldn't. His fear was as palpable as his desire. If Angel knew how he felt…how Wesley had imagined him, dreamed about him, in the last few days… Wesley felt his cock stirring and cursed his ridiculous, traitorous body.

As if reading his mind, Angel's eyes flickered low over Wesley's body and the Englishman blushed profusely.

"I'd better go now," Angel said abruptly. "There are some files I need to go over."

"Go? It's," Wesley consulted the digital readout on the microwave, "nearly four in the morning. Why--"

"Look, Wes," Angel said sharply, then softened his tone as he stood. "Wesley…if I stay here, right now, in this kitchen…things will get…bad."

"Bad?" the Englishman asked, his chest burning painfully.

Angel stepped into the light, face to face with Wesley. Then he touched the bandage on Wesley's head and the ones on his chest. "I'll want to do things to make you feel better…Things that put everyone in danger," he admitted.

"Things?"

Angel's voce was soft and husky with emotion. "Things I shouldn't want to do."

Emboldened now with pain and lack of sleep, Wesley whispered, "Things…like this?" Then he left a cautious kiss to the top of Angel's brow, directly over the spot Wesley himself had an injury.

"Yes…" Angel gasped softly, his body thrumming with suppressed desire and the need to protect and comfort the slight, brave man before him.

"Or this?" Wesley asked, brazen now that Angel had not cried out his disgust. He pressed his face to Angel's bare chest where his own bandages hid healing claw marks. Angel didn't speak, only nodded pla placed his large palms over the back of Wesley's head, pinning the man's warm mouth to his heart. Wesley's lips trailed upward, over hard muscle and smooth skin to the curve of Angel's neck and jaw.

Angel could no more stop himself from kissing Wesley then than he could stop the sun from ri. He. He pressed a tender kiss to the tall man's mouth, delighting in the citrus tang of orange juice and Wesley's own musky taste. Their kiss grew deeper and more urgent. Angel opened his mouth and let his tongue slide sweetly against Wesley's. Wesley's hands went around his body and clenched at his ass, pulling their hips together. The vampire moaned and increased the urgency of the kiss, thrusting his tongue into Wesley's mouth and sliding his hands under the waistband of the borrowed pajama bottoms to grasp at the sticky tip of Wesley's member. He pushed the garment down and the ex-Watcher kicked it under the table before Angel's hands began stroking at Wesley.

They began to slide to the floor, their arms and legs twining frantically around each other. Angel straddled the other man, pinning his arms and legs down so that Wesley was spread beneath him, pale skin illuminated in the light from the refrigerator.

Wesley was shivering in anticipation, grateful for the open appliance that cooled his fevered skin. Angel…Angel was above him, looking at him with something more than lust, something akin to need. The vampire lowered himself onto Wesley's body slowly, covering and warming him despite the fact that the vampire's body was cool itself.

"Wesley…" Angel whispered, his tongue mapping new and interesting patterns up and down the ex-Watcher's neck. "You taste so good," he said with wonder and slid slowly down his body. Wesley only moaned softly and carded his fingers through Angel's gelled hair. He could hardly think or breath. The talented mouth kissing over his bandages was draining his body of all ability to reason. He existed at the tip of Angel's tongue; he lived in the moment when Angel was whispering his name. It felt so good, Wesley thought he might be dying, but if this was death, he held no desire to live.

Angel lapped at the weeping tip of his cock, then took it deeply into his mouth. Wesley's cries echoed through the small apartment. He came and his body arched almost painfully into Angel's. He continued shaking as Angel suckled him dry, kissing his thighs and kneading at the soft, unblemished skin of his hips.

Reason had left. All Wesley could think of was the delicious high he was now drifting on. Euphoric and satiated, he scrambled to sit up, pulling Angel into his arms and turning him so that he might offer the same pleasure.

"I can't--" Angel mumbled as Wesley began pulling at the silken pajamas the vampire wore.

"You *must*, Angel. You're so hard. I can *feel* you. I *want* you and I think you want me as well. Let his happen," he whispered, biting at the skin of Angel's earlobe. "Take me, Angel. Or, if you would not have me, let me *give* you pleasure…" He slid his hand over the large, purpling cock buried in a thick hatch of wiry curls.

The vampire let out a desperate, painful cry and pushed Wesley away. "Stop…it's too dangerous… Too…This was a mistake." Angel clutched his pajamas with one hand and stood on wobbly legs. "It was a mistake. I'm sorry. I'm sorry…"

Sitting in the pool of light, Wesley watched Angel walk away. Tears threatened to well within his eyes and spill down his cheeks but he held them in check. He was, after all, quite good at that. He stood slowly, pulling on his discarded bottoms and replaced the orange juice. Then, with one final glance into the bright refrigerator, he shut the door, plunging the room into darkness.

After all, in darkness was where he belonged.

~The End~

(Don't worry, folks. Plenty more where that came from. The next story will start soon...)
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Lost Boys