Fic: The Fire of Thine Eyes, Giles/Wesley 8/17
Tomorrow's part will probably be a little later than usual as . . . I have to go to work!! ::bounces:: Also? We are now into the completely new parts of the story!
Title: The Fire of Thine Eyes (Warmth & Heat Redux)
Author: Lostgirl
Pairing: Giles/Wesley
Rating: NC-17 (overall rating)
Part: 8/17
Feedback and concrit adored: lostgirlslair @ yahoo.com
Spoilers: Begins directly after 'Bad Girls', AU from there on out with bits and pieces taken from all over the end of BtVS season three.
Summary: Giles finds Wesley lying, badly beaten, on the library floor.
Disclaimer: All things BtVS belong to Joss Whedon and various corporate entities. I am neither
Big, huge thanks to beadtific, janedavitt, kyrieane, malnpudl, and psychoadept for their beta magic. Thanks to the Buffyverse Dialogue Database for, well, the dialogue. And thank you to everyone who read the first versions of these stories. Your interest and feedback have made this a pleasure to work on.
Previous parts located here.
"Finding everything?" Wesley was startled by Rupert's voice. He'd been pouring another cup of coffee and nearly dropped the damnable thing as he spun around, blinking. Rupert raised an eyebrow at him, a small smile on his face. "Did you find everything you needed?"
Wesley snorted at his own behavior and then nodded, glancing around to see if Buffy had come back in as well. "Yes, quite. It's not as if it's hard. One kitchen's much the same as another."
"Good." Rupert sat on one of the stools, watching him. "Buffy went home."
The last was in answer to Wesley's unspoken question and, frankly, He felt some of the tension leave him. He hadn't realized how hard it would be not to blurt out, 'Rupert and I are sleeping together.' Well, no, that was a bit more straightforward than he meant. More, he was afraid that it must show in every look, in every line of his body. Hell, he wasn't certain there shouldn't have been a big, garish neon sign on his forehead.
"Oh. All right." He wasn't sure what to say to that, so instead poured both himself and Rupert a cup of coffee. He wanted to ask if he'd be staying the night again, but somehow that seemed wrong . . . desperate? He wasn't sure what it 'seemed' anymore, but he was too tired to think it through and so thought it would be better if he didn't do anything particularly devastating. Conversing came far too often under that heading.
He slid the cup across the counter to Rupert and then moved to take a seat beside his lover. Rupert was still watching him, a fact which put some of the tension back in his muscles. He felt as if he were under a microscope.
"Wesley?" He looked up at Rupert's voice, raising his eyebrows inquiringly. "Are you all right?"
"Hmm?" The question surprised him. "Yes, of course. Why?"
"You're rather quiet," Rupert answered, reaching out to brush his fingers along Wesley arm. The gesture was so casual, unthinking, that it brought a smile to Wesley's lips.
"I'm sorry, I'm absolutely shattered." Just the words seemed to bring on a yawn and Wesley covered his mouth, glancing down at the coffee. "I think I'd need a pot of this to keep my eyes open." Rupert's chuckle had him looking back to the other man.
"Why bother?" Rupert nodded to the sofa and then up to the loft. "There are plenty of places to settle and close your eyes. I promise not to take advantage of you." The last bit was accompanied by a rather rakish smile that had Wesley's breath coming a bit faster.
"Where's the fun in that?" The words slipped out before he had a chance to catch them and he nearly choked on his next breath. He glanced up at Rupert to find the man looking slightly taken aback. Lovely. "Um, I . . . I suppose saying I didn't mean that would be transparent?"
Rupert gave him an amused smile. "Perhaps a bit. You seemed stiff. After today, the caves, the cairn . . . I didn't think you'd be feeling particularly . . ."
"That didn't stop you yesterday." Wesley knew those words were coming and he chose not to stop them. Entirely different from just blurting out what was on his mind. Of course, he reminded himself, he had already decided he was too tired to speak. Perhaps he should have stuck with that.
Rupert's eyebrow rose nearly to his hair line, a look of first confusion and then worry passing through his eyes.
"Now that," Wesley said with a sigh, "I didn't mean the way it came out. I was . . . er, attempting to be . . . I don't know." Turning back to his coffee, he sighed, realizing he'd been right in the first place. Talking was a bad idea.
"To be what?" Rupert asked, just as Wesley knew he would. What he hadn't expected was for Rupert to lean closer, for Rupert's hand to slip over his back.
Wesley sighed, shaking his head as he watched Rupert lift the coffee cup to his lips. "I was attempting to tease, I suppose, uh . . . perhaps encourage. I--I don't know. The idea wasn't actually fully formed before the words." He shrugged, a self-deprecating gesture, looking once more to his coffee.
It seemed as if the ease between them was over. Wesley found he missed it quite a bit.
"Ah," Rupert said, setting down his coffee and standing.
Lovely, you see? Now you've run him off. Stupid.
Wesley was surprised when Rupert moved to stand behind him, slipping his arms around Wesley's waist and leaning his chin on Wesley's shoulder. In fact, Wesley found himself straightening, turning to look at Rupert with a rather baffled expression.
"You didn't mean that you wish it had stopped me then so much as you hope it doesn't this time as well." Rupert's voice was low and resonant in his ear. Wesley had to stifle a gasp.
"Uh, y-yes, actually." Rupert began kissing his neck and Wesley bit his lip, tilting his head to the side. "Er, for therapeutic reasons, you see," he found himself babbling, "Relaxation of muscle and . . . and . . ." Rupert nipped at his ear and Wesley lost the ability to complete the sentence.
"Oh, of course," Rupert replied. His voice was still low, but had a teasing quality. "Relaxation of muscle. Release of tension. Not at all that you simply like it when I touch you."
"Well," Wesley replied with a small, nervous laugh. "I wouldn't go that far."
"Has anyone ever told you that you're adorable when you're nervous?" Rupert's voice was perfectly serious. Wesley snorted, leaning his neck further to the side to give him better access.
"No, and, were that true," he replied softly, mind more on the feel of lips and warm hands than the words coming from his mouth, "there would have been plenty of opportunity."
"Well, then perhaps it was a lack of motivation."
Wesley leaned back against Rupert's body, sighing quietly when soft lips found a particularly sensitive spot just below his ear. "More, I'm sure, a lack of willingness to exaggerate."
"Are you saying I'm exaggerating?" Rupert didn't sound annoyed by that, rather, as he whispered the words against Wesley's shoulder, he seemed completely unfazed.
"Perhaps," and now Wesley could hear that teasing slipping into his own voice and couldn't quite be sure where it had come from. He was almost certain he'd never sounded that way before. "You could, of course, be outright lying."
It must have been in his tone. He couldn't be imagining it because Rupert didn't react to the words as one usually reacted to being accused of such things. Instead, Wesley had to stifle another moan. This time it was the vibrations of a chuckle that almost drew it out.
"Why would I lie?" Rupert's hands were slipping under his shirt. Wesley wasn't even sure when he'd un-tucked it and, as those rough fingers slid up to his chest, found he didn't actually care.
"It's rather obvious you're bent on coaxing me into your bed. Or, perhaps, rather bent and coaxing me into your bed."
Another laugh and Wesley found himself smiling, tilting his head back onto Rupert's shoulder, looking over at the man. The sight took his breath. The way Rupert smiled, the lines around his eyes that spoke of pure joy and . . . Wesley stared, transfixed. Had he put that look on Rupert's face?
"I don't remember there being much 'coaxing' yesterday. Hmmm." Rupert put on a thoughtful look, meeting Wesley gaze. "In fact, I remember you all but demanding to suck me off first."
Wesley was almost certain he was supposed to be crimson with shame and embarrassment. Not that Rupert had intended him to be, but rather that he should be. Wasn't that the proper reaction when someone said such a thing? So why was Wesley now unbearably hard? Why was he all but lunging in to kiss Rupert, to feel that talented tongue sweep inside his mouth? Why was he desperate for hands and teeth, and longing to be filled again?
If he were kissing Rupert, he couldn't say something stupid. If Rupert's hands were on him, touching him, he wasn't alone. If Rupert were inside him--and just thinking of it had his cock twitching--there was no room for the thoughts that had been assaulting him all day; no room for worry or fear or pain, only room for his lover.
"Oh, God," Wesley gasped when they had to pull apart. Rupert's hand slid up and down his chest and stomach, making muscle twitch beneath the light caresses. He wanted to touch Rupert too, wanted to feel his lover. Of course, it was hard to formulate a plan to reach that goal with Rupert nibbling on his neck again, teeth scraping lightly against sensitive skin.
"You taste wonderful," Rupert murmured against him. Gulping, Wesley forced his legs to work, standing and turning to press his body against Rupert's. The way Rupert was watching him, the look in his eyes, made Wesley feel as if his insides had suddenly heated.
"Do I?" he asked, his mind more occupied with the feel of Rupert against him. He wanted to be bold, wanted to make Rupert feel the same way he did whenever the other man touched his body. He leaned in, pressing his lips to Rupert's throat, moving along the line of skin that ran the edge of Rupert's shirt.
Rupert's hands moved to his back and they felt more than simply warm. Splayed across his lower back, he could feel their heat through his clothing. Rupert made a soft sound and Wesley echoed it, thrilling at the idea that he had caused it. He loved it when he could draw those sounds out of Rupert.
"You do," Rupert whispered in his ear, voice low and deep. "Absolutely wonderful."
"Then why are we still in the living room?" Wesley asked, stomaching knotting a bit as soon as the words left his lips. God, he was pushing. He shouldn't be pushing. Should he? He might have fallen into a fit of worry then, had it not been for Rupert's teeth scraping the rim of his ear. All his breath left him in a gasp, his hands fisting in the material of Rupert's shirt.
"Where would you rather be?" It took Wesley a moment to process the words.
"Your bed. Always." He answered with an immediacy that probably should have embarrassed him. Instead, he was thinking about Rupert's shirt and how the damn buttons were so tiny. Of course, some part of him was also wondering just when he'd started attempting to undress Rupert. Both thoughts were pushed away as Rupert closed in to kiss him. This time was different than that first, lazy exploration. Now there was pressure, the nip of teeth, thrusting tongues and their bodies in such close contact that Wesley could feel how hard Rupert's cock was as it was pressed forcefully against him.
"Then that's where we should be."
Wesley couldn't connect the words to his own at first. He was too busy trying to move with his lover, their stumbling almost sending them to the floor a time or two. Rupert let go of him as they reached the steps and Wesley sighed at the loss. Then he caught the look in Rupert's eyes and hurriedly followed him up the stairs.
Rupert waited at the top and as soon as Wesley reached him they were kissing again, pressing their bodies together. Wesley wriggled his hands between them, working the buttons of Rupert's shirt. It was an awkward act, much hindered by the fact that neither of them seemed willing to let the other move too far away.
"God, I want you," Rupert whispered in his ear and Wesley had to snap his mouth shut, had to push aside the words that rose in answer because he couldn't respond as easily as that. He wanted Rupert, obviously, but that seemed such a paltry word. Want. Even as it sent a shiver through him, it only brushed against the large, looming things inside his head.
Then they were tumbling onto the bed, lying side by side, both working on the other's clothing. Wesley finally managed to get the last of the buttons undone. He pushed Rupert's shirt out of the way impatiently, sighing at the feel of warm skin under his hands, at last. Somewhere during his own efforts, Rupert had undone his shirt as well.
The vibrations of a chuckle met his lips as Wesley began kissing the skin he'd unveiled. He ignored the sound, wanting to explore every inch of the man beside him, wanting to lick and suck and nibble the way Rupert had been doing to him. He wanted to make Rupert as desperate for him as he was for Rupert. It seemed an impossible task when he didn't know well enough what he was doing, but he wanted, needed to see the same burning desire in Rupert that he felt.
"Wes? We . . . oh, my. Uh, shirts, Wes. One of us has to stop-stop touching in order to--" Wesley drew back and stripped his shirt off impatiently, his eyes meeting Rupert's. Finally, there was no one else around to see him return that smile, no one from whom he had to hide. He dove back in, pushing Rupert's shirt down his arms even as he moved to lick at Rupert's neck.
Rupert moaned and Wesley answered with a small sound of his own. He knew he should slow down. His motions were jerky, reckless. He threw himself into every movement, frantic, headlong, needing Rupert to want him, to need him.
"Wesley?" There was more than a hint of worry in Rupert's voice. Wesley found uncertainty seizing him. He stopped kissing at Rupert's shoulder, stopped his fingers from exploring the firm muscle of Rupert's back. Slowly, he looked up, panting, afraid of what he might see in Rupert's eyes if the man had somehow seen inside his head. "Are you all right?"
Wesley blinked and then ducked his head. "Fine, why?" He couldn't look at Rupert as he said it. Instead he let his fingers slide along Rupert's skin, drawing pattern through the hair on Rupert's chest.
"Because . . . you're acting a bit odd." Rupert didn't sound aggravated, only concerned. It was nice, actually.
"Am I? How?"
"Wesley? Please. You're acting as if we'll never get to do this again. You seem almost panicked." Wesley pressed his forehead against Rupert's chest, sighing. He didn't want to talk, not after the last time. It only led to confusion and having to think about things that he couldn't sort out. It didn't solve a damn thing.
"I just . . ." He began, sighing and then raising his eyes to meet Rupert's again. The worry there took him aback. He'd heard the concern of course, but to see someone looking at him that way, as if he and his thoughts were all that mattered at the moment. It was . . . disconcerting. "I don't want to talk about it." He found the words slipping out of his lips before he'd even thought them through. Deciding he might as well say the rest as well, he shrugged self-consciously. "I need you inside me. Want-want you to f-fuck me."
Wesley was almost certain he'd never seen that look on Rupert's face before, so hot and openly lustful. Of course, that could have been because he hadn't actually been able to see Rupert the last time they'd . . . had sex.
"You're certain you don't want to discuss--"
Wesley's frustration overwhelmed him. He shot up, pressing his mouth over Rupert's in an attempt to distract him. Either Rupert gave in or he simply was overwhelmed. The kiss was urgent, intense, and not just from Wesley's end. Rupert seemed to be trying to devour him and Wesley was just as diligent.
Wesley flagging erection came quickly back to life as Rupert's hands slipped down to his trousers, working the button with almost fumbling fingers. It felt better than anything they'd ever done together, to be able to feel the evidence of Rupert's attraction to him. Not just the hard cock he could feel whenever their bodies met. It was more than that. So many things could cause an erection; rubbing against one's trousers just the right way could do that. It took something more to make a man like Rupert fumble with buttons, to make his kisses hard and demanding, to make his control slip.
Wesley reveled in the onslaught of hot hands all over his body; even the sound of the fabric ripping slightly as Rupert finally got Wesley's trousers undone seemed erotic. He kissed Rupert just as frantically as he was being kissed. Wesley hissed as Rupert broke the kiss and dragged Wesley's trouser and boxers down his hips. The rough fabric scraped over Wesley's aching cock and he moaned, his back arching, hips pushing forward for more.
Rupert's lips were on his neck again, teeth dragging along sensitive flesh. Wesley knew he was the one making those small, desperate sounds, but he didn't care. He wasn't alone in the urgent ache of his cock, the need to touch and be touched. His fingers found Rupert's dick, straining against his hand. He stroked it through the material, gasping when Rupert groaned and pushed hard into his hand.
Wesley tore at the button of Rupert's trousers, pulling the zip and thrusting his hand inside until he could wrap his fingers around Rupert's shaft, his thumb rubbing over the slick head. Then they were kissing again, so hard that Wesley could feel the press of teeth. Rupert's hands were no more gentle than his lips. Wesley thrust wildly into that tight grip, fisting Rupert tighter as well, squeezing Rupert's erection and loving the growl that earned him.
For a while they moved in concert, both thrusting wildly, rocking their bodies together. Then Rupert released his cock. Wesley whimpered into his lover's mouth, pushing forward, his need for more urgent and almost consuming. Rupert's fingers pulled at Wesley's grip. Wesley began to pull away as he released Rupert's shaft, the words, 'what's wrong?' forming on his lips, only to be stolen away when Rupert surged forward. Their bodies slammed together, cock grinding against cock.
Wesley shouted at the feel of it, the way their bodies fitted together, cocks sliding alongside one another, precum smoothing the way. He found himself panting, face buried in the crook of Rupert's neck, sweat-slicked bodies pressed tight.
Rupert was speaking, his words mostly a blur of nonsense. Then he said Wesley's name, urgency almost dripping from his tone. Wesley felt his balls begin to draw up, his heart picking up to an almost ridiculous pace.
"God," Rupert gasped. "Wesley. Need you."
"Please," Wesley almost sobbed against Rupert's skin.
"Flip over," Rupert said, his body shifting. It took Wesley's fogged mind a moment to realize that Rupert was reaching for the drawer in his nightstand.
Gulping in air, Wesley turned onto his stomach and then came up onto his elbows and knees. A whimper escaped him at the feel of even the cotton sheets against his erection. It couldn't have taken Rupert too long to gather the lubricant and condom, but Wesley would have sworn it was an age before Rupert's hands were once again on his body.
One hand ran over his arse, making Wesley groan and press into the touch. He heard the condom package rip, all his muscles going tense in anticipation. Then Rupert's fingers, slick and warm, slid along the skin of his lower back, rubbing small patterns as they slid lower. Wesley moaned, arching his back to get more of that wonderful pressure.
"Good Lord," he heard Rupert gasp, voice hoarse and low. "You're beautiful like this, Wesley. So wanton."
Had his mind not been totally focused on those strong fingers as they slid along his arse, he might have come at the words. As it was, he whimpered, pressing his forehead against the pillows.
"Rupert, please." Whether or not Rupert had understood his muffled urging, Wesley got what he'd wanted. Rupert slid two fingers along his crease, pushing lightly against his entrance. Wesley gasped, knowing he couldn't take the teasing. Not tonight.
He was trying to get his scattered mind to find the words to say so when Rupert pushed one finger into him. It wasn’t like the last time they'd done this. Rupert's entrance wasn't slow. The burn of it, the feeling of being stretched, filled Wesley's awareness, his body trembling as he fought to stay upright. It hurt, but not so much as the last time, and Wesley was too aroused to truly care.
He shuddered, a long groan spilling from his throat. He heard Rupert echo it. Wesley thrust back and Rupert's finger brushed his prostate. Wesley all but screamed, muffling the sound in the pillows as he thrust himself back. He could hear Rupert panting, could feel the man's grip digging into his hip. Rupert thrust another finger inside him and Wesley began to whimper eagerly each time he rocked backward, fucking himself on Rupert's hand.
A third finger pressed inside and Wesley froze, the burn filling him for a long moment, even as his balls tightened. "Rupert!"
The fingers withdrew. Vaguely, he was aware of Rupert's voice, low and intense. Wesley panted, trying to catch some of his breath. The head of Rupert's cock pressed against his entrance. It took a long moment for Rupert's words to penetrate the fog of Wesley's arousal.
"Wes?" One strong hand was massaging his arse.
"Rupert, I . . . please." Wesley pushed backward, choking on a gasp as the head of Rupert's cock breeched his entrance and the burn exploded through him. He heard Rupert groan before both the man's hands closed over his hips, grip tight to keep him from moving.
"Say it again." Wesley had to stretch his mind to its current limits before he understood what Rupert was asking.
"Need you inside me," he panted out. "I . . . God, I want to have you fucking me."
Rupert thrust forward hard. Wesley choked out a shout, his body and mind reeling as Rupert withdrew and slammed in again. Planting his hands against the headboard, Wesley met each thrust, only half aware of the words falling from his lips. He began pounding backwards again, fucking himself on Rupert's cock as Rupert bent over him. Wesley moaned at the feel of lips and teeth against his back, the feel of fingers pressing hard into his hips. Then Rupert straightened, one hand slipping along Wesley's slick skin, reaching around to grasp for his swollen cock. Wesley almost passed out from the sensations ricocheting through his body.
Wesley arched, spine bowing. Rupert pumped him in counter-rhythm to each thrust of his cock and Wesley gave in, his balls drawing up hard and fast as orgasm slammed him. He realized he was moaning Rupert's name, but the only thing beyond that that registered were the pulses of sensation that ripped along his nerves.
Rupert continued to milk his cock as he moved inside Wesley and then went still. A loud groan, the whisper of Wesley's name, and then Rupert collapsed against him, sending them both to the bed.
Wesley tired desperately to catch his breath. His body felt even more bruised than it had been, but also more relaxed. Rupert rolled off of him and Wesley made a slight, disappointed noise as Rupert's cocked pulled out of him.
Wesley found the strength to lift his head, turning to look at Rupert. He smiled at the picture his lover made. Naked, spent, sweaty and rumpled, Rupert was panting as hard as he was, his eyes heavy-lidded and his limbs sprawling. What was even more amazing to Wesley than the state Rupert was in was that he had been the one to cause it.
Rupert's face turned toward him, their eyes meeting. Wesley's chest clenched at the smile he found there and he smiled back. Rupert adjusted one of his arms, raising an eyebrow and inviting Wesley closer with a nod of his head.
Wesley scooted nearer, tucking himself against Rupert's side. He let his hand slide down Rupert's chest, settling low on his stomach. Rupert's hand came up to cover it and Wesley smiled against Rupert's shoulder.
They stayed that way, both regaining their breath. Wesley felt himself dozing, more comfortable and content than he could ever remember being. There were no words between them, no need for them, only the ease that Wesley so treasured. The silence was filled with soft breathing, hearts returning to their normal rhythm, the hushed sound of skin against skin as they both arranged themselves comfortably.
"At least this day ended well," Rupert murmured.
Wesley smiled, feeling oddly proud of himself. He began to analyze that feeling and then stopped when it began to lead toward questions he didn't want to consider. "It's a better ending than I'd expected," he admitted. "I felt certain someone would wind up injured."
Rupert chuckled, causing Wesley to look up at him, slightly confused. "Because of the cave and the mad cult? I assume you didn't mean because of the sex."
Wesley snorted his amusement, fondly shaking his head at Rupert. "Of course because of the cave and the cult."
Silence settled over them once again and, again, Rupert was the one to break it. "How are you feeling?" Wesley glanced up at Rupert, unsure what he meant by that question. Then Rupert's hand moved over Wesley's back, firmly enough to remind Wesley of the bruises without actually causing pain.
"Oh, uh, b-bruised," Wesley admitted with a shrug, "but far more relaxed," he added with a shy smile.
Rupert smiled in reply, but said nothing. Wesley settled back into his doze, sighing contentedly. It was a few moments later that Rupert reached up to turn off the bedside lamp. As he did, he said, "I'm ready to listen whenever you decide to tell me what that was all about."
Wesley blinked, body tensing slightly as he waited for Rupert to say more, to push. Several moments passed without a word, the gentle easiness between them apparently intact. Rupert's hand moved sleepily over his skin, lulling Wesley, relaxing him again.
"Goodnight, Rupert," he said quietly.
"Goodnight, love." Rupert's half-asleep murmur was so soft Wesley could almost convince himself he hadn't heard correctly.
It took Wesley a long while to fall asleep. He laid there, staring into the semi-darkness. The lamps downstairs were still on, but did little to provide light in the loft. He moved enough to look up at Rupert's face, trying to puzzle out what he'd heard and what he'd wanted to hear.
The questions wouldn't leave him alone. They crowded close, working hard to invade what peace Wesley had managed to scrape together for himself. His father's voice occasionally managed to slip through his resolve not to think about all of that yet. Usually, it did so just as Wesley thought he was about to doze off and it was always accompanied by a twinge of fear.
His father would never understand his choice of bedmates and most certainly never approve. He could almost imagine the look on his father's face if he ever found out. That expression that said he was appalled, but not really surprised, because he expected Wesley to fail, to screw up.
Wesley finally managed a light doze, just beginning to drift into true sleep when the phone rang. He started awake, blinking and disoriented. Rupert's hand brushed his shoulder and Wesley glanced over to see him blinking as well.
Rupert gave him a brief smile before turning to grab the receiver. "Hello?" His voice was rough with sleep and Wesley leaned back against the headboard. Almost without a thought, Wesley laid a hand on Rupert's arm. Reassurance. A call at--Wesley glanced at the clock--three in the morning was most certainly not a good sign.
"Damn," Rupert muttered, his eyes moving to Wesley. "Right. I'll go. Be careful. I will."
Hanging up the phone, Rupert sighed, his mouth open as if he were trying to decide how to say something.
"What happened?" Wesley felt his body tense.
"Faith's missing. Uh--" Before Rupert could continue, Wesley was on his feet, reaching for his clothing and pulling them on hurriedly.
"--there were some traces of . . . ash in the mansion." Rupert threw the covers back, beginning to dress as well. Wesley was too distracted to notice that at first. In fact, he turned, about to snap at the man for wasting time, only to find Rupert buttoning up his shirt as he spoke. "Angel thinks there were two or three vampires. He, uh, it smelled like blood, but not much, just a small amount."
"Will Angel be able to track her by it?" Wesley finished with his shirt, glancing down at his trousers and grimacing at the small tear around the button. Pushing thoughts of earlier out of his mind, Wesley cast about for his shoes and socks. He'd kicked them off and one shoe had, somehow, wound up under the bed.
"No. We're going to have to look for her. Buffy's taking the docks. She's sent Xander and Willow to check Faith's haunts. You and I are to go and get her motel room."
Wesley started at that, raising his eyebrows. "She, uh, she . . . how did she know I was . . ."
Rupert looked over at him, confusion obvious on his features. Wesley motioned to the bed.
"Oh, no . . . uh," he looked away then, suddenly extremely interested in getting his feet in his shoes. "She didn't actually mention you."
"Oh." Wesley wondered if she'd call his flat. Then he discarded the idea. If she'd intended him to be in on this, she'd have likely told Rupert to call him. "Right."
Wesley was quiet as he and Rupert left the flat, his mind turning over and over his last meeting with Faith. He'd thought he was breaking through to her, thought he was getting somewhere. Maybe she hadn't run away. Maybe . . . maybe she'd only pursued a vampire and she'd return? He wasn't sure if he could even convince himself of that. As he slid into Rupert's car, he found himself unsure whether he should be hoping she'd run away or not. He'd rather that than her being dead.
That last was a bit of surprise, actually. Wesley felt almost ashamed to admit it, but when he'd first arrived here, he probably wouldn't have thought that way. Faith was a Slayer. It would have been worse for the Council to lose her services than for her to die. After all, if she died, another would be called.
Disgusted with himself, Wesley stared out of the window as if he actually believed he'd catch a glimpse of her on the quiet streets.
"Wesley?" Rupert's voice was soft, as if he were reluctant to break into Wesley's thoughts. "We'll find her."
"You don't know that," Wesley replied softly, his mind conjuring image of Faith rising as a vampire, pushing up through the dirt, face contorted with rage and hunger. He wondered if Buffy would be able to stake her. "You don't know that 'finding her' will be a good thing."
"No, but it does us no good to think otherwise." Rupert had a point there. Wesley snorted and then glanced over. Rupert looked at him as they stopped at a red light. Wesley nodded his agreement and motioned to the light.
"Rupert, there's no one on the road and we're in a hurry."
It was Rupert's turn to snort. He turned back to the street and ran the red light.
Continued here.
Title: The Fire of Thine Eyes (Warmth & Heat Redux)
Author: Lostgirl
Pairing: Giles/Wesley
Rating: NC-17 (overall rating)
Part: 8/17
Feedback and concrit adored: lostgirlslair @ yahoo.com
Spoilers: Begins directly after 'Bad Girls', AU from there on out with bits and pieces taken from all over the end of BtVS season three.
Summary: Giles finds Wesley lying, badly beaten, on the library floor.
Disclaimer: All things BtVS belong to Joss Whedon and various corporate entities. I am neither
Big, huge thanks to beadtific, janedavitt, kyrieane, malnpudl, and psychoadept for their beta magic. Thanks to the Buffyverse Dialogue Database for, well, the dialogue. And thank you to everyone who read the first versions of these stories. Your interest and feedback have made this a pleasure to work on.
Previous parts located here.
"Finding everything?" Wesley was startled by Rupert's voice. He'd been pouring another cup of coffee and nearly dropped the damnable thing as he spun around, blinking. Rupert raised an eyebrow at him, a small smile on his face. "Did you find everything you needed?"
Wesley snorted at his own behavior and then nodded, glancing around to see if Buffy had come back in as well. "Yes, quite. It's not as if it's hard. One kitchen's much the same as another."
"Good." Rupert sat on one of the stools, watching him. "Buffy went home."
The last was in answer to Wesley's unspoken question and, frankly, He felt some of the tension leave him. He hadn't realized how hard it would be not to blurt out, 'Rupert and I are sleeping together.' Well, no, that was a bit more straightforward than he meant. More, he was afraid that it must show in every look, in every line of his body. Hell, he wasn't certain there shouldn't have been a big, garish neon sign on his forehead.
"Oh. All right." He wasn't sure what to say to that, so instead poured both himself and Rupert a cup of coffee. He wanted to ask if he'd be staying the night again, but somehow that seemed wrong . . . desperate? He wasn't sure what it 'seemed' anymore, but he was too tired to think it through and so thought it would be better if he didn't do anything particularly devastating. Conversing came far too often under that heading.
He slid the cup across the counter to Rupert and then moved to take a seat beside his lover. Rupert was still watching him, a fact which put some of the tension back in his muscles. He felt as if he were under a microscope.
"Wesley?" He looked up at Rupert's voice, raising his eyebrows inquiringly. "Are you all right?"
"Hmm?" The question surprised him. "Yes, of course. Why?"
"You're rather quiet," Rupert answered, reaching out to brush his fingers along Wesley arm. The gesture was so casual, unthinking, that it brought a smile to Wesley's lips.
"I'm sorry, I'm absolutely shattered." Just the words seemed to bring on a yawn and Wesley covered his mouth, glancing down at the coffee. "I think I'd need a pot of this to keep my eyes open." Rupert's chuckle had him looking back to the other man.
"Why bother?" Rupert nodded to the sofa and then up to the loft. "There are plenty of places to settle and close your eyes. I promise not to take advantage of you." The last bit was accompanied by a rather rakish smile that had Wesley's breath coming a bit faster.
"Where's the fun in that?" The words slipped out before he had a chance to catch them and he nearly choked on his next breath. He glanced up at Rupert to find the man looking slightly taken aback. Lovely. "Um, I . . . I suppose saying I didn't mean that would be transparent?"
Rupert gave him an amused smile. "Perhaps a bit. You seemed stiff. After today, the caves, the cairn . . . I didn't think you'd be feeling particularly . . ."
"That didn't stop you yesterday." Wesley knew those words were coming and he chose not to stop them. Entirely different from just blurting out what was on his mind. Of course, he reminded himself, he had already decided he was too tired to speak. Perhaps he should have stuck with that.
Rupert's eyebrow rose nearly to his hair line, a look of first confusion and then worry passing through his eyes.
"Now that," Wesley said with a sigh, "I didn't mean the way it came out. I was . . . er, attempting to be . . . I don't know." Turning back to his coffee, he sighed, realizing he'd been right in the first place. Talking was a bad idea.
"To be what?" Rupert asked, just as Wesley knew he would. What he hadn't expected was for Rupert to lean closer, for Rupert's hand to slip over his back.
Wesley sighed, shaking his head as he watched Rupert lift the coffee cup to his lips. "I was attempting to tease, I suppose, uh . . . perhaps encourage. I--I don't know. The idea wasn't actually fully formed before the words." He shrugged, a self-deprecating gesture, looking once more to his coffee.
It seemed as if the ease between them was over. Wesley found he missed it quite a bit.
"Ah," Rupert said, setting down his coffee and standing.
Lovely, you see? Now you've run him off. Stupid.
Wesley was surprised when Rupert moved to stand behind him, slipping his arms around Wesley's waist and leaning his chin on Wesley's shoulder. In fact, Wesley found himself straightening, turning to look at Rupert with a rather baffled expression.
"You didn't mean that you wish it had stopped me then so much as you hope it doesn't this time as well." Rupert's voice was low and resonant in his ear. Wesley had to stifle a gasp.
"Uh, y-yes, actually." Rupert began kissing his neck and Wesley bit his lip, tilting his head to the side. "Er, for therapeutic reasons, you see," he found himself babbling, "Relaxation of muscle and . . . and . . ." Rupert nipped at his ear and Wesley lost the ability to complete the sentence.
"Oh, of course," Rupert replied. His voice was still low, but had a teasing quality. "Relaxation of muscle. Release of tension. Not at all that you simply like it when I touch you."
"Well," Wesley replied with a small, nervous laugh. "I wouldn't go that far."
"Has anyone ever told you that you're adorable when you're nervous?" Rupert's voice was perfectly serious. Wesley snorted, leaning his neck further to the side to give him better access.
"No, and, were that true," he replied softly, mind more on the feel of lips and warm hands than the words coming from his mouth, "there would have been plenty of opportunity."
"Well, then perhaps it was a lack of motivation."
Wesley leaned back against Rupert's body, sighing quietly when soft lips found a particularly sensitive spot just below his ear. "More, I'm sure, a lack of willingness to exaggerate."
"Are you saying I'm exaggerating?" Rupert didn't sound annoyed by that, rather, as he whispered the words against Wesley's shoulder, he seemed completely unfazed.
"Perhaps," and now Wesley could hear that teasing slipping into his own voice and couldn't quite be sure where it had come from. He was almost certain he'd never sounded that way before. "You could, of course, be outright lying."
It must have been in his tone. He couldn't be imagining it because Rupert didn't react to the words as one usually reacted to being accused of such things. Instead, Wesley had to stifle another moan. This time it was the vibrations of a chuckle that almost drew it out.
"Why would I lie?" Rupert's hands were slipping under his shirt. Wesley wasn't even sure when he'd un-tucked it and, as those rough fingers slid up to his chest, found he didn't actually care.
"It's rather obvious you're bent on coaxing me into your bed. Or, perhaps, rather bent and coaxing me into your bed."
Another laugh and Wesley found himself smiling, tilting his head back onto Rupert's shoulder, looking over at the man. The sight took his breath. The way Rupert smiled, the lines around his eyes that spoke of pure joy and . . . Wesley stared, transfixed. Had he put that look on Rupert's face?
"I don't remember there being much 'coaxing' yesterday. Hmmm." Rupert put on a thoughtful look, meeting Wesley gaze. "In fact, I remember you all but demanding to suck me off first."
Wesley was almost certain he was supposed to be crimson with shame and embarrassment. Not that Rupert had intended him to be, but rather that he should be. Wasn't that the proper reaction when someone said such a thing? So why was Wesley now unbearably hard? Why was he all but lunging in to kiss Rupert, to feel that talented tongue sweep inside his mouth? Why was he desperate for hands and teeth, and longing to be filled again?
If he were kissing Rupert, he couldn't say something stupid. If Rupert's hands were on him, touching him, he wasn't alone. If Rupert were inside him--and just thinking of it had his cock twitching--there was no room for the thoughts that had been assaulting him all day; no room for worry or fear or pain, only room for his lover.
"Oh, God," Wesley gasped when they had to pull apart. Rupert's hand slid up and down his chest and stomach, making muscle twitch beneath the light caresses. He wanted to touch Rupert too, wanted to feel his lover. Of course, it was hard to formulate a plan to reach that goal with Rupert nibbling on his neck again, teeth scraping lightly against sensitive skin.
"You taste wonderful," Rupert murmured against him. Gulping, Wesley forced his legs to work, standing and turning to press his body against Rupert's. The way Rupert was watching him, the look in his eyes, made Wesley feel as if his insides had suddenly heated.
"Do I?" he asked, his mind more occupied with the feel of Rupert against him. He wanted to be bold, wanted to make Rupert feel the same way he did whenever the other man touched his body. He leaned in, pressing his lips to Rupert's throat, moving along the line of skin that ran the edge of Rupert's shirt.
Rupert's hands moved to his back and they felt more than simply warm. Splayed across his lower back, he could feel their heat through his clothing. Rupert made a soft sound and Wesley echoed it, thrilling at the idea that he had caused it. He loved it when he could draw those sounds out of Rupert.
"You do," Rupert whispered in his ear, voice low and deep. "Absolutely wonderful."
"Then why are we still in the living room?" Wesley asked, stomaching knotting a bit as soon as the words left his lips. God, he was pushing. He shouldn't be pushing. Should he? He might have fallen into a fit of worry then, had it not been for Rupert's teeth scraping the rim of his ear. All his breath left him in a gasp, his hands fisting in the material of Rupert's shirt.
"Where would you rather be?" It took Wesley a moment to process the words.
"Your bed. Always." He answered with an immediacy that probably should have embarrassed him. Instead, he was thinking about Rupert's shirt and how the damn buttons were so tiny. Of course, some part of him was also wondering just when he'd started attempting to undress Rupert. Both thoughts were pushed away as Rupert closed in to kiss him. This time was different than that first, lazy exploration. Now there was pressure, the nip of teeth, thrusting tongues and their bodies in such close contact that Wesley could feel how hard Rupert's cock was as it was pressed forcefully against him.
"Then that's where we should be."
Wesley couldn't connect the words to his own at first. He was too busy trying to move with his lover, their stumbling almost sending them to the floor a time or two. Rupert let go of him as they reached the steps and Wesley sighed at the loss. Then he caught the look in Rupert's eyes and hurriedly followed him up the stairs.
Rupert waited at the top and as soon as Wesley reached him they were kissing again, pressing their bodies together. Wesley wriggled his hands between them, working the buttons of Rupert's shirt. It was an awkward act, much hindered by the fact that neither of them seemed willing to let the other move too far away.
"God, I want you," Rupert whispered in his ear and Wesley had to snap his mouth shut, had to push aside the words that rose in answer because he couldn't respond as easily as that. He wanted Rupert, obviously, but that seemed such a paltry word. Want. Even as it sent a shiver through him, it only brushed against the large, looming things inside his head.
Then they were tumbling onto the bed, lying side by side, both working on the other's clothing. Wesley finally managed to get the last of the buttons undone. He pushed Rupert's shirt out of the way impatiently, sighing at the feel of warm skin under his hands, at last. Somewhere during his own efforts, Rupert had undone his shirt as well.
The vibrations of a chuckle met his lips as Wesley began kissing the skin he'd unveiled. He ignored the sound, wanting to explore every inch of the man beside him, wanting to lick and suck and nibble the way Rupert had been doing to him. He wanted to make Rupert as desperate for him as he was for Rupert. It seemed an impossible task when he didn't know well enough what he was doing, but he wanted, needed to see the same burning desire in Rupert that he felt.
"Wes? We . . . oh, my. Uh, shirts, Wes. One of us has to stop-stop touching in order to--" Wesley drew back and stripped his shirt off impatiently, his eyes meeting Rupert's. Finally, there was no one else around to see him return that smile, no one from whom he had to hide. He dove back in, pushing Rupert's shirt down his arms even as he moved to lick at Rupert's neck.
Rupert moaned and Wesley answered with a small sound of his own. He knew he should slow down. His motions were jerky, reckless. He threw himself into every movement, frantic, headlong, needing Rupert to want him, to need him.
"Wesley?" There was more than a hint of worry in Rupert's voice. Wesley found uncertainty seizing him. He stopped kissing at Rupert's shoulder, stopped his fingers from exploring the firm muscle of Rupert's back. Slowly, he looked up, panting, afraid of what he might see in Rupert's eyes if the man had somehow seen inside his head. "Are you all right?"
Wesley blinked and then ducked his head. "Fine, why?" He couldn't look at Rupert as he said it. Instead he let his fingers slide along Rupert's skin, drawing pattern through the hair on Rupert's chest.
"Because . . . you're acting a bit odd." Rupert didn't sound aggravated, only concerned. It was nice, actually.
"Am I? How?"
"Wesley? Please. You're acting as if we'll never get to do this again. You seem almost panicked." Wesley pressed his forehead against Rupert's chest, sighing. He didn't want to talk, not after the last time. It only led to confusion and having to think about things that he couldn't sort out. It didn't solve a damn thing.
"I just . . ." He began, sighing and then raising his eyes to meet Rupert's again. The worry there took him aback. He'd heard the concern of course, but to see someone looking at him that way, as if he and his thoughts were all that mattered at the moment. It was . . . disconcerting. "I don't want to talk about it." He found the words slipping out of his lips before he'd even thought them through. Deciding he might as well say the rest as well, he shrugged self-consciously. "I need you inside me. Want-want you to f-fuck me."
Wesley was almost certain he'd never seen that look on Rupert's face before, so hot and openly lustful. Of course, that could have been because he hadn't actually been able to see Rupert the last time they'd . . . had sex.
"You're certain you don't want to discuss--"
Wesley's frustration overwhelmed him. He shot up, pressing his mouth over Rupert's in an attempt to distract him. Either Rupert gave in or he simply was overwhelmed. The kiss was urgent, intense, and not just from Wesley's end. Rupert seemed to be trying to devour him and Wesley was just as diligent.
Wesley flagging erection came quickly back to life as Rupert's hands slipped down to his trousers, working the button with almost fumbling fingers. It felt better than anything they'd ever done together, to be able to feel the evidence of Rupert's attraction to him. Not just the hard cock he could feel whenever their bodies met. It was more than that. So many things could cause an erection; rubbing against one's trousers just the right way could do that. It took something more to make a man like Rupert fumble with buttons, to make his kisses hard and demanding, to make his control slip.
Wesley reveled in the onslaught of hot hands all over his body; even the sound of the fabric ripping slightly as Rupert finally got Wesley's trousers undone seemed erotic. He kissed Rupert just as frantically as he was being kissed. Wesley hissed as Rupert broke the kiss and dragged Wesley's trouser and boxers down his hips. The rough fabric scraped over Wesley's aching cock and he moaned, his back arching, hips pushing forward for more.
Rupert's lips were on his neck again, teeth dragging along sensitive flesh. Wesley knew he was the one making those small, desperate sounds, but he didn't care. He wasn't alone in the urgent ache of his cock, the need to touch and be touched. His fingers found Rupert's dick, straining against his hand. He stroked it through the material, gasping when Rupert groaned and pushed hard into his hand.
Wesley tore at the button of Rupert's trousers, pulling the zip and thrusting his hand inside until he could wrap his fingers around Rupert's shaft, his thumb rubbing over the slick head. Then they were kissing again, so hard that Wesley could feel the press of teeth. Rupert's hands were no more gentle than his lips. Wesley thrust wildly into that tight grip, fisting Rupert tighter as well, squeezing Rupert's erection and loving the growl that earned him.
For a while they moved in concert, both thrusting wildly, rocking their bodies together. Then Rupert released his cock. Wesley whimpered into his lover's mouth, pushing forward, his need for more urgent and almost consuming. Rupert's fingers pulled at Wesley's grip. Wesley began to pull away as he released Rupert's shaft, the words, 'what's wrong?' forming on his lips, only to be stolen away when Rupert surged forward. Their bodies slammed together, cock grinding against cock.
Wesley shouted at the feel of it, the way their bodies fitted together, cocks sliding alongside one another, precum smoothing the way. He found himself panting, face buried in the crook of Rupert's neck, sweat-slicked bodies pressed tight.
Rupert was speaking, his words mostly a blur of nonsense. Then he said Wesley's name, urgency almost dripping from his tone. Wesley felt his balls begin to draw up, his heart picking up to an almost ridiculous pace.
"God," Rupert gasped. "Wesley. Need you."
"Please," Wesley almost sobbed against Rupert's skin.
"Flip over," Rupert said, his body shifting. It took Wesley's fogged mind a moment to realize that Rupert was reaching for the drawer in his nightstand.
Gulping in air, Wesley turned onto his stomach and then came up onto his elbows and knees. A whimper escaped him at the feel of even the cotton sheets against his erection. It couldn't have taken Rupert too long to gather the lubricant and condom, but Wesley would have sworn it was an age before Rupert's hands were once again on his body.
One hand ran over his arse, making Wesley groan and press into the touch. He heard the condom package rip, all his muscles going tense in anticipation. Then Rupert's fingers, slick and warm, slid along the skin of his lower back, rubbing small patterns as they slid lower. Wesley moaned, arching his back to get more of that wonderful pressure.
"Good Lord," he heard Rupert gasp, voice hoarse and low. "You're beautiful like this, Wesley. So wanton."
Had his mind not been totally focused on those strong fingers as they slid along his arse, he might have come at the words. As it was, he whimpered, pressing his forehead against the pillows.
"Rupert, please." Whether or not Rupert had understood his muffled urging, Wesley got what he'd wanted. Rupert slid two fingers along his crease, pushing lightly against his entrance. Wesley gasped, knowing he couldn't take the teasing. Not tonight.
He was trying to get his scattered mind to find the words to say so when Rupert pushed one finger into him. It wasn’t like the last time they'd done this. Rupert's entrance wasn't slow. The burn of it, the feeling of being stretched, filled Wesley's awareness, his body trembling as he fought to stay upright. It hurt, but not so much as the last time, and Wesley was too aroused to truly care.
He shuddered, a long groan spilling from his throat. He heard Rupert echo it. Wesley thrust back and Rupert's finger brushed his prostate. Wesley all but screamed, muffling the sound in the pillows as he thrust himself back. He could hear Rupert panting, could feel the man's grip digging into his hip. Rupert thrust another finger inside him and Wesley began to whimper eagerly each time he rocked backward, fucking himself on Rupert's hand.
A third finger pressed inside and Wesley froze, the burn filling him for a long moment, even as his balls tightened. "Rupert!"
The fingers withdrew. Vaguely, he was aware of Rupert's voice, low and intense. Wesley panted, trying to catch some of his breath. The head of Rupert's cock pressed against his entrance. It took a long moment for Rupert's words to penetrate the fog of Wesley's arousal.
"Wes?" One strong hand was massaging his arse.
"Rupert, I . . . please." Wesley pushed backward, choking on a gasp as the head of Rupert's cock breeched his entrance and the burn exploded through him. He heard Rupert groan before both the man's hands closed over his hips, grip tight to keep him from moving.
"Say it again." Wesley had to stretch his mind to its current limits before he understood what Rupert was asking.
"Need you inside me," he panted out. "I . . . God, I want to have you fucking me."
Rupert thrust forward hard. Wesley choked out a shout, his body and mind reeling as Rupert withdrew and slammed in again. Planting his hands against the headboard, Wesley met each thrust, only half aware of the words falling from his lips. He began pounding backwards again, fucking himself on Rupert's cock as Rupert bent over him. Wesley moaned at the feel of lips and teeth against his back, the feel of fingers pressing hard into his hips. Then Rupert straightened, one hand slipping along Wesley's slick skin, reaching around to grasp for his swollen cock. Wesley almost passed out from the sensations ricocheting through his body.
Wesley arched, spine bowing. Rupert pumped him in counter-rhythm to each thrust of his cock and Wesley gave in, his balls drawing up hard and fast as orgasm slammed him. He realized he was moaning Rupert's name, but the only thing beyond that that registered were the pulses of sensation that ripped along his nerves.
Rupert continued to milk his cock as he moved inside Wesley and then went still. A loud groan, the whisper of Wesley's name, and then Rupert collapsed against him, sending them both to the bed.
Wesley tired desperately to catch his breath. His body felt even more bruised than it had been, but also more relaxed. Rupert rolled off of him and Wesley made a slight, disappointed noise as Rupert's cocked pulled out of him.
Wesley found the strength to lift his head, turning to look at Rupert. He smiled at the picture his lover made. Naked, spent, sweaty and rumpled, Rupert was panting as hard as he was, his eyes heavy-lidded and his limbs sprawling. What was even more amazing to Wesley than the state Rupert was in was that he had been the one to cause it.
Rupert's face turned toward him, their eyes meeting. Wesley's chest clenched at the smile he found there and he smiled back. Rupert adjusted one of his arms, raising an eyebrow and inviting Wesley closer with a nod of his head.
Wesley scooted nearer, tucking himself against Rupert's side. He let his hand slide down Rupert's chest, settling low on his stomach. Rupert's hand came up to cover it and Wesley smiled against Rupert's shoulder.
They stayed that way, both regaining their breath. Wesley felt himself dozing, more comfortable and content than he could ever remember being. There were no words between them, no need for them, only the ease that Wesley so treasured. The silence was filled with soft breathing, hearts returning to their normal rhythm, the hushed sound of skin against skin as they both arranged themselves comfortably.
"At least this day ended well," Rupert murmured.
Wesley smiled, feeling oddly proud of himself. He began to analyze that feeling and then stopped when it began to lead toward questions he didn't want to consider. "It's a better ending than I'd expected," he admitted. "I felt certain someone would wind up injured."
Rupert chuckled, causing Wesley to look up at him, slightly confused. "Because of the cave and the mad cult? I assume you didn't mean because of the sex."
Wesley snorted his amusement, fondly shaking his head at Rupert. "Of course because of the cave and the cult."
Silence settled over them once again and, again, Rupert was the one to break it. "How are you feeling?" Wesley glanced up at Rupert, unsure what he meant by that question. Then Rupert's hand moved over Wesley's back, firmly enough to remind Wesley of the bruises without actually causing pain.
"Oh, uh, b-bruised," Wesley admitted with a shrug, "but far more relaxed," he added with a shy smile.
Rupert smiled in reply, but said nothing. Wesley settled back into his doze, sighing contentedly. It was a few moments later that Rupert reached up to turn off the bedside lamp. As he did, he said, "I'm ready to listen whenever you decide to tell me what that was all about."
Wesley blinked, body tensing slightly as he waited for Rupert to say more, to push. Several moments passed without a word, the gentle easiness between them apparently intact. Rupert's hand moved sleepily over his skin, lulling Wesley, relaxing him again.
"Goodnight, Rupert," he said quietly.
"Goodnight, love." Rupert's half-asleep murmur was so soft Wesley could almost convince himself he hadn't heard correctly.
It took Wesley a long while to fall asleep. He laid there, staring into the semi-darkness. The lamps downstairs were still on, but did little to provide light in the loft. He moved enough to look up at Rupert's face, trying to puzzle out what he'd heard and what he'd wanted to hear.
The questions wouldn't leave him alone. They crowded close, working hard to invade what peace Wesley had managed to scrape together for himself. His father's voice occasionally managed to slip through his resolve not to think about all of that yet. Usually, it did so just as Wesley thought he was about to doze off and it was always accompanied by a twinge of fear.
His father would never understand his choice of bedmates and most certainly never approve. He could almost imagine the look on his father's face if he ever found out. That expression that said he was appalled, but not really surprised, because he expected Wesley to fail, to screw up.
Wesley finally managed a light doze, just beginning to drift into true sleep when the phone rang. He started awake, blinking and disoriented. Rupert's hand brushed his shoulder and Wesley glanced over to see him blinking as well.
Rupert gave him a brief smile before turning to grab the receiver. "Hello?" His voice was rough with sleep and Wesley leaned back against the headboard. Almost without a thought, Wesley laid a hand on Rupert's arm. Reassurance. A call at--Wesley glanced at the clock--three in the morning was most certainly not a good sign.
"Damn," Rupert muttered, his eyes moving to Wesley. "Right. I'll go. Be careful. I will."
Hanging up the phone, Rupert sighed, his mouth open as if he were trying to decide how to say something.
"What happened?" Wesley felt his body tense.
"Faith's missing. Uh--" Before Rupert could continue, Wesley was on his feet, reaching for his clothing and pulling them on hurriedly.
"--there were some traces of . . . ash in the mansion." Rupert threw the covers back, beginning to dress as well. Wesley was too distracted to notice that at first. In fact, he turned, about to snap at the man for wasting time, only to find Rupert buttoning up his shirt as he spoke. "Angel thinks there were two or three vampires. He, uh, it smelled like blood, but not much, just a small amount."
"Will Angel be able to track her by it?" Wesley finished with his shirt, glancing down at his trousers and grimacing at the small tear around the button. Pushing thoughts of earlier out of his mind, Wesley cast about for his shoes and socks. He'd kicked them off and one shoe had, somehow, wound up under the bed.
"No. We're going to have to look for her. Buffy's taking the docks. She's sent Xander and Willow to check Faith's haunts. You and I are to go and get her motel room."
Wesley started at that, raising his eyebrows. "She, uh, she . . . how did she know I was . . ."
Rupert looked over at him, confusion obvious on his features. Wesley motioned to the bed.
"Oh, no . . . uh," he looked away then, suddenly extremely interested in getting his feet in his shoes. "She didn't actually mention you."
"Oh." Wesley wondered if she'd call his flat. Then he discarded the idea. If she'd intended him to be in on this, she'd have likely told Rupert to call him. "Right."
Wesley was quiet as he and Rupert left the flat, his mind turning over and over his last meeting with Faith. He'd thought he was breaking through to her, thought he was getting somewhere. Maybe she hadn't run away. Maybe . . . maybe she'd only pursued a vampire and she'd return? He wasn't sure if he could even convince himself of that. As he slid into Rupert's car, he found himself unsure whether he should be hoping she'd run away or not. He'd rather that than her being dead.
That last was a bit of surprise, actually. Wesley felt almost ashamed to admit it, but when he'd first arrived here, he probably wouldn't have thought that way. Faith was a Slayer. It would have been worse for the Council to lose her services than for her to die. After all, if she died, another would be called.
Disgusted with himself, Wesley stared out of the window as if he actually believed he'd catch a glimpse of her on the quiet streets.
"Wesley?" Rupert's voice was soft, as if he were reluctant to break into Wesley's thoughts. "We'll find her."
"You don't know that," Wesley replied softly, his mind conjuring image of Faith rising as a vampire, pushing up through the dirt, face contorted with rage and hunger. He wondered if Buffy would be able to stake her. "You don't know that 'finding her' will be a good thing."
"No, but it does us no good to think otherwise." Rupert had a point there. Wesley snorted and then glanced over. Rupert looked at him as they stopped at a red light. Wesley nodded his agreement and motioned to the light.
"Rupert, there's no one on the road and we're in a hurry."
It was Rupert's turn to snort. He turned back to the street and ran the red light.
Continued here.