Date: Mon, 12 Aug 2002 23:09:19 -0400 From: Steve Griffin Subject: Angel's Investigations 7 "Angel" belongs to the WB and Greenwalt/Whedon/Mutant Enemy, among others. I am making no profit, aside from the joy of feedback. Do not pass this around or archive this without asking me first. Do not read this if you aren't over 18 or the age of majority in your area. If you have ANY feedback, *please* e-mail me at knack6@hotmail.com -- Another night of exhausting demon-killing had left Angel and his troupe, well...exhausted. Cordelia had driven straight back to her apartment and ghostly friend, while the men returned to the Hyperion. Gunn and Riley drank a few beers, Gunn's hands accidentally rubbing Riley in all the wrong-right places. Angel brooded, tried not to stare at Wesley, and went to bed. Wesley, who had declined leaving the hotel, had spent all night sipping sherry and reading his books, a prison he had been voluntarily admitting himself to more and more frequently. Gunn had tried talking to him, but to no avail. Too weary to drive back to his hovel of an apartment, Gunn planned to sleep in one of the many vacant rooms. "Come up later, it's 203," Gunn sensually whispered into Riley's ear. While stomping up the stairs, Gunn turned around to mouth the word to an attentive Riley one last time. Wesley also noticed, but both he and Riley remained silent. Wesley due to a plan formulating, and Riley due to shuddering at the sight of those thick lips and what he wanted to slide between them. Riley stretched out on the leather sofa, the shiny material stuck on his elbows. Angel's leather pants had the same texture. Riley had a strong bond with Gunn, wanted to know Gunn better, but he still had such a deep lust for Angel. A bloodlust. He couldn't get him out of his dreams, and every time Angel mourned the loss of his latest love, Riley wanted to wrap his arms around the vampire and make Angel forget Wesley ever existed. He also wanted to share himself with Gunn, to fuck him into the carpet, but was that because of Gunn or because of Forrest? At the moment, Riley's most pressing concern was drowsiness. Pensively, trying not to chew his lip, Wesley waited for Riley to accept or deny Gunn's carnal invitation. Luckily, whatever intentions the youthful soldier had were sidetracked by sleep. Riley planned to close his eyes only for a moment, but the moments slowly built one upon the other. Wesley penned a note, and when the fifteen-minute mark approached, crept up to room 203. A lit candle in his hand and a butcher knife held behind his back, Wesley approached the doorway. He glimpsed Gunn's expansive, smooth back and shoulders, slick from a recent shower, contrasting starkly to the crisp white sheets. His skin stretched tight against street-honed biceps, the sheet riding down slightly, revealing the top of his deep crack and large, muscular buttocks, Gunn was a vision. Such a vision that Wesley nearly forgot his initial reasons for speaking to the man. Clearing his throat to remind himself as much as Gunn, Wesley cautiously crossed the threshold. Gunn's shoulders seemed to heave from relief as he heard the second party joining him. He turned, expecting... "Riley, is that you?" Gunn's eyes widened as he realized this was clearly not Riley. "Wes? This a three-way now?" Wesley shook his head meekly, and joined his nude friend on the bed. Gunn was confused as all hell, but he knew that Wesley would never behave this brazenly if he were just asking for tea. Add in Wesley's weird behavior over the past few days, and Gunn decided to be as polite as possible. Gunn sat up against the pillows, arms folded his head, his coal-hued, bushy pubic hair and flaccid 9 inches partially visible above the ever-lowering sheet. He didn't even consider covering up. He had nothing to be ashamed of and lots to be proud of. Wesley would concur, if he were not so wrapped up in his own issues. With a faint tremor, he placed the candle on the nightstand, and the knife near Gunn's thigh. Gunn glanced down, agog, and cracked a half-serious joke. "Holy shit, Wes! I thought you were kinky, but knife play?" Wesley faintly smiled, looked down at the knife, knotted his trembling fingers in his lap, tried to be as direct as possible. "Every day, I wake up feeling that I am destined to commit a horrible crime, but I have no idea of when, where, who. Every day, I feel that I need to stop myself before I can do harm. I have spoken to telepathic demons, to a hypnotherapist, to a bloody fortune teller, and they have told me nothing. This is my last resort. I no longer trust my ability to..." Wesley paused, willing his voice not to break, "commit suicide. I have attempted this and have been unable to. I decided I would need your assistance in such a thorough activity. I realize this is an unfortunate request to ask, but I have left a very detailed note that should absolve you of criminal responsibility." Gunn's eyes bugged out yet again, his only reaction. Removing himself from his sheet, he rose to his feet and began pacing, began rubbing his forehead. Wesley blinked and tried not to notice the trivial things, like Gunn's left-leaning nightstick and mushroom head, his huge thighs, his meaty nipples hardening in the cool air. Time passed excruciatingly slowly for Wesley, much too quickly for Gunn, millions of thoughts racing through Gunn's mind. Bewilderment, rage at Wes asking him to do this after Gunn had to kill the girl he thought of as a sister, and finally, pity. Gunn kneeled to his friend's waist, placed his large, compassionate hands on trouser fabric. Stared into Wesley's bespectacled eyes and spoke as best he could. "You need help. Not the kind you're askin' for. We never should've gone back to working for Angel. He rots everything he touches. Even the most precious gems in the world." Crouching forward, he nuzzled Wesley's forehead, wrapping his arms around his lean body to hug his traumas away. Scooping down to kiss Wesley's nose, Gunn unbuttoned his tan dress shirt, smoothing over Wesley's pale pecs and flat stomach, carressing his surgical scar of a few months ago. "You already almost died once cause of me. Ain't gonna happen again, English. You hear me?" The concern dripped against Wesley's lips as easily as Gunn's salty sweat dripped onto Wesley's neck and chest. Hating himself so much, wanting to be out of his own skin, wanting to fall into the soulful eyes and soothing voice of the incredibly arousing, fully naked man crouching beside him, Wesley let his emotions dictate his actions. He closed the small space between himself and Gunn, and joined his mouth and Gunn's. Gunn moaned lightly from surprise, then nearly bit Wesley's tongue off when the querrelous organ invaded his mouth. Pulling their lips apart, Gunn held back a question. Was this right? Gunn had wanted Wesley since that first day in the warehouse, but had given up pursuing him. If he turned Wes down, would Wes kill himself? Why would he want to turn Wes down? What about Riley? Riley hadn't shown up yet, did that mean his answer was no? Puzzled at his equally puzzled friend, Wesley stared, trying to imagine what he had done rong. Reading Wesley's thoughts, Gunn rubbed his shoulders, carressed them, as he freed Wes from his shirt. He had made the decision, what he hoped was the right decision. "No need to go so fast. I've wanted this for over a year. How 'bout you? Did you want me half as bad as I wanted you?" Exploring Gunn's perfect torso with his soft fingers, Wesley meekly nodded. So easy to forget, about Angel, about the dreams, about everything... His shoes clumping off of his feet, Wesley stood up to unbuckle his trousers. As he began lowering his fly, Gunn's large hands covered his, halting him. "Let me do that." Gunn gently pushed Wesley flat on his back, Wesley's neck brushing against the pillows as his socks were removed, as a long, wet tongue bathed his soles, journeyed in the valleys between his toes, sucked on his big toe. Wesley whimpered as he pictured that mouth on a larger and more excited part of his body. His trousers went next, with Gunn sliding his rough palms up Wesley's pale calves and trim thighs. The questing digits danced inside Wesley's soaked boxer shorts, tickling his tightening testicles, yanking on them slightly to jolt Wesley back into the moment. Finally, Wesley's underwear, after a long sniff and taste by Gunn, joined his orphaned garments on the floor, and Gunn stared appreciatively, lovingly at his naked, live-wired friend. Wesley's heart fluttered with every peek at Gunn's dirty grin, knowing the many things Gunn could do to his pliant, waiting flesh. Gunn kneeled at Wesley's toes and worked up Wes' body slowly, his nose, his chest, his jutting cannon sliding up the pink skin stealthily. When their faces reunited, their tongues reacquainted hungrily. Wesley sucked Gunn's tongue needily, massaging the hard cheeks he so desperately yearned for. Gunn grunted at the thumb circling and probing near his hole, and removed Wesley's glasses. Wesley felt truly naked now, his most private areas sensitive to the assured, erotic touches. Gunn's thumb glided down the bridge of Wesley's nose, around his grey, blinking eyes. Their erections duelled as insistently as their hands scavenged, Wesley's practiced sword jabbing firmly at just the right spot in Gunn's low-hanging babymakers. The warrior and the librarian, black and white, ready; they had been ready for so long. Wesley had never dared to admit this to Gunn, but he had always yearned to be impaled by the large, dark shaft of a black man, to give himself fully to the strong, primal African body. He had experienced several black men, but few as proud, as commanding as Gunn. Gunn's chewy nipple escaping his mouth, Wesley muttered for Gunn to "fuck me raw." Surprised at Wesley's language, Gunn snickered, resting Wesley's legs onto his broad shoulders. "Want my big black dick up your tiny white ass, huh?" Entranced by the determined, thick fingers digging into his crack and tugging at his dark hairs hidden there, Wesley hazily nodded. Gunn lunged forward, tongue brutally parting Wesley's firm mounds to fully taste his new lover for the first time. Wesley silently screamed, pinching his own erect nipples, his foot rubbing at Gunn's sweat-drenched backside. The candle dripped as steadily as their precum, and Wesley grabbed the object as he pumped his swollen cock, droplets of hot wax splattering on his chest and sending him further into ectsasy. This was going to be a long, active night. So busy were they that they never noticed Riley walking in on them, Riley watching in disbelief and arousal, Riley leaving a note and walking out the door. That would happen the next day. For tonight, Wesley and Gunn only had each other's needs to worry about.