Fic: The Fire of Thine Eyes, Giles/Wesley 13/17
Title: The Fire of Thine Eyes (Warmth & Heat Redux)
Author: Lostgirl
Pairing: Giles/Wesley
Rating: NC-17 (overall rating)
Part: 13/17
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.
Wesley was right on Rupert's heels as they entered the library. Buffy was walking toward Rupert the moment they'd entered the door.
"Why didn't you tell me?" She shouted, face contorted with anger.
Wesley resisted the urge to take a step back, his mind already flying. They knew. They knew that he and Rupert were lovers. Wesley had actually feared this moment, in between his more pressing fears, of course. He'd had no idea how they were going to react, but he didn't think it would be particularly good, especially if Buffy's reaction was anything to go by.
"W-what?" Rupert shook his head, but Wesley knew Rupert had come to the same conclusion. It was subtle, but as soon as Buffy as asked, Rupert had taken a step in front of Wesley, as if he were going to protect him. The gesture was both endearing and annoying.
"I almost fainted! And everyone was looking at me funny, probably because I was standing there with my mouth hanging open, but it was a big thing and . . . I can't believe you didn't tell me!"
Wesley stepped forward, trying to find the words to explain.
"I mean? Telepathy? Has to be the coolest thing in the Slayer toolbox!"
"What?" Both Rupert and Wesley said it together. Wesley couldn't look away from the Slayer, who was grinning like a lunatic.
"Telepathy?" Wesley felt as if the train of thought behind this conversation had just run him over. "We should have told you . . . about telepathy?" Not about us being together?
Buffy's eyes went even wider and she stared at Wesley as he'd just insisted the sky was green and little blue mice were eating his feet. "W-what? You and . . . and Giles? T-together?" Her mouth hung open.
Stunned silence hung the library. Wesley found himself rooted to the spot, certain his entire face had to be crimson, not to mention the rest of him. In that moment, he thought he might just be about to prove it was possible to die of mortification.
"Now, Buffy," Rupert began in a soothing tone. Wesley couldn't even bring himself to look at Rupert, since his entire body seemed frozen. He and Buffy just stared at one another.
"Like . . . together?" At the sound of Cordelia's voice, Wesley almost groaned. This was not going to go well and he was beginning to panic. His throat was closing up, breathing becoming more difficult.
"Wesley and I," Rupert began again, removing his glasses and rubbing at his eyes, but was cut off once again.
Buffy whirled on the others. "Would you people stop thinking about that! And, Cordelia, that is absolutely gross!"
"You mean, Giles and Wesley are . . ." Xander shook his head, smiling insanely. "But that's great! I mean, it's . . . well, um." He looked very confused for a moment, glancing at Cordelia and then at them and making a face. "Well, it's kinda . . . creepy, but . . ."
"Okay, am I the only one who didn't know Giles was gay?" Willow put in, her eyes big and round.
"That's enough!" Rupert shouted and Wesley's eyes whipped toward his lover, as did everyone else's. "My private life is not up for discussion. Do you all understand?" There were several nods, but none of them were Buffy's.
"I knew it!" She shouted, shaking her head. "Well, no, because . . . ew, but I knew you and Wesley were too cozy. I knew it! Except . . . I had no clue you were . . . Okay, that's not something I ever want in my brain again, Cordelia!." Buffy was pacing, shaking her head and then she stopped, gaping at them once more. "But I knew you two were hanging out a lot and that's just not normal or-or--"
"Buffy," Rupert actually growled, pointing to the office. Wesley was on his way to it immediately, because he was not going to be left out here with Xander, Willow, and Cordelia. Buffy might be in the office, but so was Rupert and that at least made it a fairly neutral place at the moment.
Buffy was following behind him, muttering to herself. Wesley took up a position in the corner of the office, somehow feeling better with his back to the wall. Rupert shut the door behind him and Wesley busied himself by noting each and every sign of his lover's frustration.
"Buffy? Completely disregarding the fact that you seem to be able to read minds, which we most certainly will be discussing in just a moment, why did you seem to believe it would be perfectly acceptable to announce that Wesley and I are lovers?"
"Lovers?" Buffy almost choked on the word, shuddering faintly. "Okay, that's not a word I ever need to hear you say again," she grumbled, before shrugging. "I'm sorry, Giles. I just . . . it was a surprise and . . . you didn't tell me that either! And Wesley? Why . . . I don't want to know." She gave a shudder.
Rupert sighed, looking rather torn and Wesley decided to step forward. "Buffy, it was I who didn't want to tell you a-about us. If you are going to be angry at anyone, it should be me."
"Mad? I . . . okay, I'm really grossed out," Buffy said with a slightly confused expression. "I mean . . . it's just kinda outta nowhere and . . . Giles is way too old to be getting smoochies, from anybody but--" She winced then and Wesley was fairly certain his thoughts were the cause. Until she turned on Rupert and he held up his hands.
"I'm sorry."
"I mean . . . why didn't you tell me Giles? Okay, so high 'ew' factor, but don't you think I should get to know? Know, in a very limited capacity, though. I mean, I definitely don't want to hear about it, or . . . see it, or . . . think about it, but . . ." Buffy shook her head again.
"Buffy, I had rather hoped you would be happy for me," he said, the slightly sad edge to his voice making Wesley want to go to him. He held himself still, of course, waiting.
"Oh . . ." Buffy looked torn now. She stopped, watching Rupert intently for a moment before her face cleared a bit and she looked as if she'd just been given a shock. She had, of course. Wesley sighed, waiting for her to process it all. "I am," she finally said, though she didn't sound as if she was sure of that. "Well, okay, I don't get it. I so don't get it, but . . . it's like when Xander was dating Cordelia, right? So . . . okay. Okay. I get it."
Wesley raised an eyebrow, confused by the apparently one sided conversation and yet quite relieved that Buffy wasn't going to . . . to what? Run screaming? Be angry, he supposed. Though he didn't know she wouldn't be angry at him, he wasn't really worried about that. He didn't want to have damaged her relationship with Rupert.
Rupert ducked his head and Wesley was fairly sure that it was to hide a smile. Sighing, Wesley tried, desperately, to get the discussion on a much more comfortable topic. "Buffy? Slayers aren't supposed to develop telepathy."
"They're not?" She looked tired, unconsciously reaching up a hand to rub at her forehead. "Because that was pretty much the only thing I could come up with."
"No, telepathy isn't normally a Slayer talent," Rupert agreed, sitting on the edge of his desk. Wesley went to sit next to him, embarrassed to do so in front of Buffy, but wanting very much to be next to Rupert. He made certain not to actually touch the other man, however. "So, we need to, uh, to find out how this came to be. Has anything out of the ordinary happened recently?"
Buffy snorted, shrugging. "Take your pick, right? I guess there were those demons last night and, oh, rash!" She held up her hand for Rupert and he to examine. Rupert took her hand, pulling her closer so that he could look at it under the magnifying glass.
"Hmm. It seems an ordinary rash. Tell us about these demons."
Wesley listened intently as Buffy described them, reaching for a book just as she mentioned the fact that they didn’t have mouths.
"Because they're telepathic," Buffy said, drawing both his and Rupert's eyes. "Oh, I heard both you guys think it. Uh, sorry. You two do that Watcher in stereo things in your heads too? That's . . . kinda creepy actually."
Wesley turned the book he'd opened so Buffy could see it. "Is this what they looked like?"
"Yeah! There were two of them."
Wesley nodded, scanning the lines beside the picture for some idea of what they were dealing with. "Hmm."
"What?" Both Rupert and Buffy asked at the same time. Wesley looked up and blinked.
"She's right. That is rather . . . creepy. Uh, it says that they can infect the host."
"Infect?" Buffy didn't sound pleased. Rupert leaned over, reading over his shoulder. Wesley moved the book to make it easier on him, both of them caught up in the descriptions. "Hey? Guys? Infect?"
"Oh, uh, infect the host with an aspect of the demon. That's all it says," Rupert replied with a slightly puzzled shrug.
"An aspect of the demon? Like . . . a part of it? So it just means the telepathy right? I’m not like going to sprout a tail or . . . baby demons or anything?"
"Uh, no," Rupert said with a slight laugh. "I think it means the telepathy."
"Okay, that's good. Telepathy, I can deal with, but I don't want a tail."
"Yes, well," Wesley cleared his throat, glancing at the door. He was rather startled that Buffy was . . . accepting of Rupert and his relationship, in fact he was stunned, but she was only one of the people whom he'd have to face. "Uh, do you think they've gone?"
"No," Buffy said, giving him a not entirely friendly look. "They're wondering what we're doing in here. At least Cordelia is. I never knew she had such a vivid imagination." Buffy scrunched her nose up and shuddered.
Wesley groaned, resting his head in his hands as Buffy left.
"I believe she was kidding," Rupert remarked and the laughter in his voice was the last straw.
"Do you think this is funny?" He asked between clenched teeth, raising his face to glare at Rupert.
Rupert opened his mouth to reply and then winced, sighing. "I . . . I don't think it's necessarily bad that they know, but--"
"Not bad? Are you insane?" Wesley felt his hands clenching into fists as he paced.
"Wesley? When was the last time the children treated you as an outsider?"
Wesley stopped his pacing, turning to meet Rupert's eyes. He thought about that, hard, trying to recall. Xander had been hostile, suspicious, and Willow and Buffy had both teased him, but he wasn't sure whether or not there was malice in it. Of course, after the look Buffy had given him . . .
"Xander? Two days ago. The others . . . not as often, or recently," he said softly, feeling his eyebrows draw together. "You, uh, don't . . . you don't think they're going to be, er, odd, about it?"
"Well, uh, I would expect some jokes, especially from Xander, though he might simply attempt to avoid the whole issue. Uh, Willow will be extra careful in attempt not insult either of us, which is probably going to lead to babbling.”
"It's just, uh, rather embarrassing," Wesley commented before he'd really thought through how it sounded. "Uh, not-not that I'm embarrassed about being with you, just--"
"Other people knowing?" Rupert put in with a raised eyebrow.
"Yes, but not the way you meant . . ." Groaning, Wesley gave up, laying his head in his hands once again. At the sound of Rupert's chuckle, the feel of the man's hand rubbing soothing circles on his back, Wesley looked up with a morose expression. "I'm not embarrassed by you, Rupert."
Rupert smiled, nodding. "I know. It's all right. It will take time for everyone to adjust, but, you'll see, it will be just the same as it is with Angel and Oz." There was a name Rupert was leaving off that list. Faith had known about the two of them and she'd never made a joke out of it. She referred to Rupert as 'his boy,' which Wesley thought was absurd on several levels, but she'd never made an issue of it. He could only wonder why.
Sitting back on the desk next to Rupert, Wesley sighed. "All right, but, uh, I'd still like to . . . well, uh, keep it quiet, if you . . . if you understand."
Rupert nodded, that warm hand never leaving Wesley's back. "I know." There was some slight sadness in Rupert's voice, but Wesley was too relieved to pursue the subject now. Later. They'd talk about it later. Much, he hoped.
"I'd . . . uh," Rupert began and there was something in his voice that made Wesley straighten up, look at him. "Lately, I'd been thinking that it was, perhaps, the time to tell the children."
For the second time that day, Wesley felt rooted to the spot. He blinked, trying to assimilate that information and everything it meant. Rupert had said that he'd want to tell the children if things between them ever became . . . something more. Wesley suddenly found it hard to breathe again and whether that was panic or something else he had no idea. Then Rupert hopped off the desk, moving to stand before him. Wesley looked at him, almost certain his confusion showed on his face.
"You don't agree?" Rupert asked softly, his hands cupping Wesley's face.
Wesley opened his mouth and then shut it, swallowing hard. It took him a moment to gather words. He reached up and covered Rupert's hands with his own. "I think that, uh, it was . . . from my end . . . I think it was time a while ago," he said softly, his eyes moving to Rupert's chin because he simply couldn't meet those gorgeous eyes just now. "Do, uh, you . . . do you remember when we went to your flat after retrieving the knife from that tomb? You said that, uh, that you were ready to listen whenever I decided to tell you what that was all about?"
Rupert's eyebrows rose, a smile twitching his lips. Wesley couldn't help but smile as well, seeing that look on Rupert's face. It eased a bit of his nervousness, at least enough that he could breathe again.
Rupert bent forward and Wesley moaned softly at the feel of his lover's lips rubbing against his own. The kiss contained many smaller ones, some brief, wet and opened mouthed, others only quick nibbles interspersed with much slower licks. When Rupert pulled away a bit, Wesley sighed, still smiling. Their faces were just inches from one another and Wesley's eyes flicked between meeting Rupert's gaze and staring at his lips.
"We should go back to investigating the knife," Wesley said reluctantly.
"Yes, we most definitely--" Rupert leaned in again and Wesley parted his lips, his tongue darting out to lick at Rupert's lips, tasting. The kiss only last for a few seconds before Rupert pulled back, panting. "We definitely should be researching the knife."
Wesley nodded, his eyes still fixed on Rupert's mouth. "Yes, and, uh, we have a new route to explore." This time it was Wesley who ducked forward, taking Rupert's bottom lip into his mouth and sucking gently. Rupert moaned and Wesley dove in to deepen the kiss. Wesley pulled back when he needed to breath, rubbing his mouth along Rupert's jaw line. "Buffy's telepathy could come in handy," he murmured, his mind working the problem while his body . . . made other plans.
"Wesley?" Rupert leaned in and they were back to those small kisses again. "Please don't mention Buffy when we're kissing. All right?"
"I think I can refrain," Wesley answered, closing his eyes, his hands moving along Rupert's arms until the landed on his shoulders. He kneaded, pulling Rupert just a bit closer, just enough that Wesley could feel the heat from his body.
The kiss changed, deepened. Wesley groaned at the feel of Rupert's tongue moving along his own, their bodies suddenly pressed tightly together. His hands moved over Rupert's back, Rupert's hands sliding down his chest and stomach to settle at his hips.
"Wow. I was right. That's hot." Cordelia's voice came from the doorway and Wesley jumped, freezing. Rupert pulled away, closing his eyes and, Wesley thought, counting to ten.
"Cordelia, if this is not important--"
"Oh, no, it is! Uh, Buffy kinda passed out in the cafeteria. I told Xander and Willow not move her, but--" Wesley and Rupert were already running past her, out the door, and toward the cafeteria. "Okay, rude much? She's outside!"
Wesley wasn't sure how he made it through the rest of the day. Once they'd gotten Buffy back to her home, he and Rupert had gone back to the library, back to the books. From there they'd found an account of another man in Buffy's condition, except that he was now locked away in isolation, unable to shut out the voices in his head.
The recipe for the antidote was easy enough to find, the only problem being that they'd need the heart of the second demon to complete it. Rupert's tension was a palpable energy around him, crackling when anyone, even Wesley, came too close. They'd gone to Angel immediately and as soon as the sun had set, he'd gone out to hunt the demon.
Wesley stood in the hall outside Buffy's bedroom, waiting for Angel to arrive. Rupert and Mrs. Summers were in the doorway, watching Buffy toss and turn. There were hours until sunrise. Angel had time. That was, at least, what Wesley kept telling himself as the night waned and those hours slipped by. There was nothing he could do except watch them suffer. Not only Buffy, who looked so very small and pale, but Rupert and Mrs. Summers as well.
Rupert pulled away from the doorway, murmuring something to Mrs. Summers before turning to Wesley. "I'm, uh, I'm going to sit out on the porch for a moment," he explained quietly.
"I'll come with you," Wesley replied, glad he had when a brief flicker of relief lit Rupert's eyes. He followed Rupert to the porch, watching as the man glanced around. Wesley thought he was hoping to see Angel, but there was no sign of the vampire.
"She'll go insane if he can't get it," Rupert whispered, slumping down onto the porch swing. Wesley sat next to him, reaching out to take Rupert's hand and squeezing it gently. There was nothing he could say to that, no comfort he could offer with words.
"It's, uh, it's odd to be waiting for Angel," Rupert said with a strange intonation. "I know he loves her and she loves him, but . . . it's quite hard to look the man in the face and I make him very nervous. Perhaps I should feel sorrier for that than I do." Rupert let out a bitter chuckle and Wesley opened to his mouth and then shut it, deciding he shouldn't interrupt, especially when there was nothing he could do. "I, uh, I told you that we'd talk about the . . . tension between Angel and myself later. If, uh, if you like I'll . . . I'll tell you what happened."
"I read it," Wesley replied, softly. "I read that part of your diaries." Rupert nodded, his eyes never leaving the street. He kept scanning it from one end to the other.
"I'd hoped you would. Uh, so that I wouldn’t have to . . ." Rupert let his words trail off and Wesley didn't push. Instead he leaned against Rupert, his thumb moving over the hand he held. He didn't know if it was enough. He didn't know how to offer any more comfort than this and yet Rupert's body relaxed slightly.
There was a shout. Both men stood as a blanket covered someone came tearing down the street. Wesley went to the door, throwing it open and then stepping aside as first Angel and then Rupert tore past him. Wesley followed them, pushing the door shut, and then bounding up the stairs.
He stood next to Rupert as they watched Angel feed Buffy. He helped to hold down the Slayer during her convulsions, doing his best to avoid Angel's desperate, questioning looks. When Buffy calmed and her eyes opened, Wesley nearly shouted with relief.
He and Rupert left with Buffy. She made Wesley promise he would take Rupert home to get some sleep, which put a very odd expression on Mrs. Summers' face and made Wesley blush like mad most of the way back to Rupert's flat.
Rupert all but collapsed on the sofa, his glasses tossed onto the coffee table. He rubbed at his eyes, yawning widely. Wesley watched him for a moment before going to retrieve a towel and his bath oil from the bathroom.
"Upstairs," Wesley said as he entered the living room again. Rupert blinked at him, his eyes flicking down to the towel Wesley had draped over his arm.
"I'm too wound up to sleep," Rupert replied, though there was a hint of confusion in his tone.
"Upstairs," Wesley repeated with a smile, not giving anything away. Rupert stood, giving him a confused smile before he turned to go, Wesley following him.
Once in the loft, Wesley set his supplies beside the bed, putting the bath oil out of sight since he found he rather liked keeping Rupert guessing. Rupert crossed his arms over his chest, watching with a smile as Wesley spread the towel over the bed. Once that was done, Wesley turned, walking over to Rupert and nudging his arms. Rupert uncrossed them, but said nothing, waiting.
Wesley reached up, keeping his eyes on his fingers as he unbuttoned Rupert's shirt. Rupert raised an eyebrow in question, but Wesley shook his head, giving Rupert an enigmatic smile. His fingers slid under the waistband of Rupert's trousers and he unbuttoned those as well, pulling down the zip. Leaning in close to Rupert's ear, he whispered, "Strip and lie down on your stomach."
Wesley glanced back over his shoulder as he turned to go get the oil. Rupert's eyebrows were very high indeed, though he did what Wesley had said. Rupert stretched out on the bed, his arms stacked beneath his head.
"I think, Wesley, that I should warn you that I'm utterly exhausted and as much as I'm enjoying this--which is very much, by the way--I don't think--" Wesley hushed him, quickly stripping out of his own clothes and retrieving the oil. He straddled Rupert's arse, getting a moan out of the man. Smiling at that, Wesley began his massage, starting with Rupert's neck. Rupert groaned and that only made Wesley grin wider as his fingers slid over tense muscle, kneading firmly and working his way down.
Rupert's back was a mass of knots. Wesley patiently worked each of them out, chuckling at each moan and groan he pulled from Rupert. Wesley kept working even after he'd thought Rupert had fallen asleep. He slid his hand over Rupert's arse, scratching lightly over the skin. It was Rupert's gasping groan when Wesley did so that let him know his lover wasn't, in fact, unconscious.
Wesley smiled, a tad wickedly, sliding one finger along Rupert's crease, pressing lightly. Rupert gasped again. "Wes? Unfortunately, I don't think that--"
"I thought I told you to hush," Wesley laughed, slapping lightly at one firm arse cheek. He hadn't expected to get the same gasping groaning from that. Leaning to the side, Wesley meet Rupert's gaze, raising his eyebrows. Rupert smiled, shrugging in answer to Wesley's question and then pointing to his lips.
"Ah, yes. I did tell you to hush, didn't I? Shame on me." Wesley shook his head and went back to what he'd been doing. Biting his lip, more unsure of himself than he was trying to let on, Wesley forged ahead, telling himself Rupert was half asleep anyway. He parted Rupert's arse cheeks, studying the sight before him for a moment before rubbing his thumb over Rupert's entrance.
The man bucked beneath him. Wesley left out a gasp of his own, his cock twitching. At the moment, that was a sure sign it was time to stop. Rubbing his hands up Rupert's back, Wesley rolled to lie beside Rupert.
"What was that all about?" Rupert asked as he scooted closer to Wesley, tossing an arm over Wesley's stomach.
"I was, er, exploring, which sounds very silly, I know, but--"
"It doesn't sound silly," Rupert contradicted, his voice sleepy. Wesley smiled at the sound as much as at what Rupert had said.
"Good. Uh, perhaps I can . . . do it again? When we're not both exhausted?" Wesley's voice was quiet and he half-hoped Rupert had already dozed.
"I hope you will," Rupert whispered against his neck. Wesley closed his eyes, reveling in the feel of Rupert, the weight of the arm draped over his stomach, the smell of the bath oil, the feel of the sheets. All of it. He took it in with every sense but his eyes, committing it to memory, just in case.
Tomorrow he'd call the Council. Tomorrow he'd tell them about Faith. Tomorrow he might be ordered back to England. Would he go? Lying there with Rupert snoring softly against his neck and the man's warmth surrounding him, he really wasn't certain. That worried him more than a little.
****
Chased from sleep by vivid dreams, Wesley woke before Rupert. Prying his eyes open, he looked over at the man. Rupert was lying diagonally across the bed, his head pillowed half on Wesley's shoulder and half on his own arm. Wesley sighed.
"That wasn't a particularly encouraging sound," Rupert said softly, one eye opening.
"I have to call the Council," Wesley blurted out, shrugging to hide his nervousness.
Rupert gave him an odd look at that, pulling back and propping himself upon his elbow. "About Faith? That's good. They're going to have to be on the look out for her should she leave Sunnydale."
"Yes, but after I argued for her being allowed to stay . . ." Wesley shook his head, refusing to meet Rupert's eyes, afraid of what he'd see there. "They might take me off this assignment."
Rupert's hand--which still rested on Wesley's stomach--twitched slightly. "You think they'll decide you aren't fit to be the active Watcher and want you to go back to England for another assignment?"
"Yes," Wesley murmured, sliding his hand over Rupert's. He was pathetically grateful that Rupert hadn't pulled his hand away.
"Will you go?"
Wesley gave a snort of sad laughter. "I knew that would be the first thing you'd ask."
"It's an important question." Rupert's voice was more serious, carefully neutral. Wesley bit his lip and shrugged.
"I don't know."
"I see." There was still no emotion in Rupert's voice, but the inflection had changed somehow, become harder.
"I want to be here," Wesley rushed to clarify, glancing up to meet Rupert's gaze. He was surprised there was no disappointment there, no anger.
Rupert nodded, a thoughtful look on his face. "Then the question is, if it comes down to a choice between obeying the Council and staying here, do you want to be here enough to tell the Council to bugger off."
Wesley nodded, swallowing hard. Rupert hadn't moved away from him, however, hadn't turned away. In fact, Rupert's fingers moved slowly over his stomach, rubbing small patterns. Neither of them spoke. Wesley tried to come to a decision, tried to unravel the tangle of emotions and thoughts and sort them into neat, separate piles so that he could analyze it all. It had never been so difficult to know what to do before he'd come to this town.
"Rupert?" He asked softly, wondering if the man had fallen back to sleep.
"Hmm?"
"Would you hate me if I couldn't quit the Council?"
Rupert's eyes opened and he stared at Wesley for a long moment. "Of course I wouldn't," he said softly. "I would miss you, but of course I wouldn't hate you."
Wesley nodded, giving Rupert a sad smile. "I should go make the call," he finally said, though he was certain his voice told of his reluctance to move.
Rupert nodded. "Good luck."
Wesley sighed and stood, pulling on his sweatpants and taking the steps more slowly than he normally would. He stared at the phone on the desk for a long while before finally picking it up. It was early enough that no one would be at lunch. Now was the time to call, if he were going to do it. Finally dialing the number, Wesley sat in Rupert's chair, his eyes moving over the desk. His fingers traced its edges and then traced the grain as he waited. After a moment, the phone was answered and Wesley asked for Travers.
"Mr. Travers, it's Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. No, I . . . I'm calling to inform you that we have a rogue Slayer. Faith."
The silence that greeted his announcement was sharp and painful. Wesley closed his eyes, waiting for what felt like forever. This was it. Even if they didn't call him back to England, his father would hear about this. He'd have to call the man eventually, and when he did . . .
"She's gone rogue?" Travers' voice was hard.
"Yes. She . . . she's working with Mayor Wilkins and has made an attack on Buffy."
"I see." What followed was a tirade that left Wesley feeling four years old, his stomach clenched tight and his head spinning. The blame, it was clear, would be placed squarely upon his shoulders and, truthfully, Wesley agreed that that's where it belonged.
"How are you planning on handling this situation?"
"I'm sorry?" Wesley nearly groaned as soon as the words left his lips. He simply hadn't expected Travers to ask such a question.
"How are planning on handling Faith? I assume you have worked out some sort of strategy. Surely you're not planning to simply let her roam free and homicidal."
"Of course not, sir," Wesley found himself saying, blinking as he mind raced. A plan. "At the moment we're still attempting to locate her. We know she's in Sunnydale, but haven't pinpointed where she's staying. Once we find her, we'll observe her and plan from there."
"Reasonable. I want to hear, immediately, if Faith leaves Sunnydale."
"You will. Of course."
Travers said his goodbyes and Wesley responded in a daze. Hanging up the phone, he stared at it for a long moment, only looking up when he heard Rupert's footsteps.
"I'm to deal with her," Wesley said, still dazed. "They, uh, they're not pulling me out." The last bit was said in a tone of utter relief.
Rupert smiled, but it was a dim thing compared to his usual grin. "I'm glad."
Wesley stood, moving to meet Rupert as he came around the desk. Wesley slipped his arms around him, relieved when Rupert's arms moved to hold him in return. After their earlier conversation, he'd not been entirely sure of his welcome. They watched one another for a moment and then Wesley leaned in, tasting Rupert's lips, feeling them part for him. He licked along them before thrusting his tongue inside, meeting Rupert's. Though the kiss began slowly, soon Wesley was pressing forward hard, Rupert meeting him with equal fervor.
Wesley needed that, needed to feel Rupert respond to him. Rupert squeezed at the back of Wesley's neck with one hand, the other gripping his hip. Wesley pressed himself tight against Rupert, his fingers dipping slightly into the drawstring sweats Rupert had put on to come downstairs. Rupert moaned and Wesley bucked his hips forward, echoing the sound when his half-hard cock ground against Rupert's.
He pushed his hands into the sweatpants, sliding them down over Rupert's arse, scratching lightly, hoping for the same reaction he'd gotten the night before. Rupert's cock twitched against him and Wesley pulled away from the kiss, groaning. They were both panting, chests moving fast and hard with each breath. Wesley darted in, biting lightly at Rupert's collarbone. Rupert arched, a soft, longing sound passing between his lips. Wesley bit just a tad harder before moving on to the bit of flesh just beside Rupert's nipple. He bit there too, reveling in the growl that got him from Rupert.
Wesley groaned as Rupert retaliated, beginning to lick at that sensitive spot behind Wesley's ear. Rupert's hands were moving over him, traveling Wesley's skin as if he were trying to memorize it. Rupert's lips moved lower, nibbling lightly. "Turn around," he said against Wesley's jaw line.
Seeing the mischievous light in Rupert's eyes, Wesley complied, looking at his lover over his shoulder. "What are you up to?"
Rupert pressed his body tight to Wesley's back, his arms coming up to wrap around Wesley's stomach. Rupert kissed at that spot just behind Wesley ear again, murmuring. "You seemed quite interested in my office, yesterday. When I mentioned what would likely happen if we didn't stop touching one another?"
Wesley thought for a moment and then he remembered. The desk. Being bent over it. His heart picked up its pace, his eyes skittering to Rupert's desk.
"I want you," Rupert said in his ear.
"Here?" Wesley gave Rupert a startled look, though his cock hardened further at the words. "In the living room? Rupert, what if one of the children show up?"
"The door is locked." Rupert scraped his teeth along Wesley earlobe. "The peep hole's shut." Rupert's hands slid over his stomach, making Wesley's muscles jump and pulling a gasp from him. "The blinds are drawn." Rupert bit lightly at his shoulder and Wesley's back bowed slightly. "And I have this incredible urge to see you bent over my desk." As nice as the nibbles to Wesley's neck felt, they weren't what made him shiver, made his cock pulse and his mouth go dry.
"You seem to like the idea," Rupert chuckled, the fingers of one hand caressing the skin just above Wesley sweatpants, sneaking slowly under the waistband.
Wesley groaned, pushing his arse back against Rupert. "Yes," he finally managed.
"You want me to fuck you over the desk?" Rupert's voice was deep, intense, still carrying a hint of that earlier growl in the words.
"Yes," Wesley knew he sounded breathless. Rather hard not to when one could barely breath. Rupert's fingers brushed the head of his cock and Wesley whimpered. Rupert's other hand was lying flat on his stomach, pulling their bodies together.
"Say it?" Rupert asked, his hips bucking forward, hard cock rubbing firmly against Wesley's arse.
"I, oh God, I want . . . I want you to-to fuck me over the desk." Wesley thought he might be blushing, but it was hard to tell with his skin tingling all over anyway. Rupert groaned against his skin and Wesley echoed the sound. Rupert's fingers wrapped around Wesley's throbbing cock and Wesley bucked into the grip, moaning.
The hand that had rested on his stomach moved to Wesley's shoulder blade, gently pushing him forward. Gasping, Wesley took a step closer to the desk, his mind a riot of thoughts, heart pounding. Slowly, he bent forward, a slight, breathless sound escaping him at the cool wood against his overheated skin.
He swallowed hard, his breath coming faster. Rupert's fingers slipped into his waistband. "God, Rupert," he said, his hips jerking of their own volition as Rupert dragged the sweatpants down his hips until they pooled at his feet.
"Shh, I'm right here," Rupert replied. He took a step away and Wesley almost straightened. "I'm not leaving, Wes. Just getting undressed."
Wesley was somewhat calmed, but his heart still beat fast. He felt vulnerable like this, somehow more exposed than he did in Rupert's bed, or even on the sofa. He'd never really thought about how open the flat was, how visible he was. The thought sent a throbbing jolt of arousal through him and Wesley bit his lip to keep from making a sound.
Then Rupert was behind him again. He shivered as Rupert pressed against him, just as naked and just as hard. "You're beautiful like this."
Wesley shuddered, reaching his hands out to grasp the far side of the desk. Rupert's hands were on his back, starting just above his arse and rubbing, firmly, upward. Wesley arched into the touches and then groaned as Rupert laid his own body along Wesley's. Bending over that way pressed Rupert's cock hard against his arse.
Then Rupert was straightening again, bring his nails down Wesley's back. Wesley arched, groaning. One of Rupert's hands slipped lower, fondling Wesley's balls. Wesley found himself let out a series of small, gasping pants. The hand on his balls moved higher, gripping his cock. Wesley choked back a groan, finding it hard to keep his hips still.
Rupert squeezed his cock and Wesley felt the air against it, cool where precum had pooled. Rupert swiped his thumb over the head and Wesley jerked forward again, moaning as Rupert pulled back his foreskin.
"Rupert, please,"
"I'm here," Rupert said. Wesley heard a drawer open, but his focus was far more on Rupert's hand, squeezing and pulling at his prick. He wasn't going to be able to take this much longer.
"I love seeing you so wanton," Rupert said, his hand sliding down to the base of Wesley's cock, circle it in a tight grip, staving off Wesley orgasm. "You’re always so controlled. I love seeing you lose it."
Wesley whimpered, pushing his arse back against Rupert, gratified by the groan he drew from the man. Rupert stepped slightly away from him and Wesley whimpered at the loss, making to stand.
"Just a moment," Rupert said and Wesley heard the tear of a condom package. Anticipation flared hotter inside him and Wesley took deep breaths as he waited. He heard the click of a lid and his only thought was to be thankful Rupert had some sort of lubricant down here. Cool, extremely slick fingers moved along Wesley's crease, teasing.
"Rupert, please," Wesley begged, rocking back against the touch. Rupert relented with a slight chuckle, pushing two fingers inside Wesley in one quick thrust. Wesley gasped, thrusting backward. Rupert's fingers slid over his prostate and he shouted, unable to clamp down on it. Rupert worked him hurriedly, sliding them in and out and pressing another finger inside.
Wesley came off the desk, pressing his palms against it for better leverage as he pushed hard against Rupert's hand and then jerking forward into the fist Rupert wrapped around his aching shaft. His nerves felt as if they were on fire and Rupert's mouth was suddenly on his neck again, licking and biting as Wesley fucked himself on Rupert's hand.
"God, so damn eager," Rupert groaned against his skin.
"More," Wesley gasped, tilting his head back and moaning loudly. Rupert withdrew his fingers, but Wesley barely had time to complain before Rupert pressed into him, hard and fast, nearly frantic.
Wesley pushed hard against the desk, frozen for a moment, speared by Rupert's cock and so damn close to coming. Rupert began stroking him again as he withdrew. Wesley groaned, his balls drawing up and tightening as Rupert slammed back into him. He was pushed forward, the desk hard beneath him, Rupert bending over him. Wesley felt his whole body begin to tingle, balls tightening as he came, clenching around Rupert's cock and milking himself in his lover's fist. His orgasm hit him hard, his body alive with feeling.
Rupert kept moving, a long, low moan issuing from his lips as hips jerked faster and faster. Wesley clenched tighter, felt Rupert's cum-slicked hand move to his hip. He pressed back to meet the thrusts and Rupert went still, gasping out Wesley name. There was a long moment when they were both frozen, reeling.
Then Rupert's weight slumped onto him and Wesley sighed happily.
Continued here.
Author: Lostgirl
Pairing: Giles/Wesley
Rating: NC-17 (overall rating)
Part: 13/17
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.
Wesley was right on Rupert's heels as they entered the library. Buffy was walking toward Rupert the moment they'd entered the door.
"Why didn't you tell me?" She shouted, face contorted with anger.
Wesley resisted the urge to take a step back, his mind already flying. They knew. They knew that he and Rupert were lovers. Wesley had actually feared this moment, in between his more pressing fears, of course. He'd had no idea how they were going to react, but he didn't think it would be particularly good, especially if Buffy's reaction was anything to go by.
"W-what?" Rupert shook his head, but Wesley knew Rupert had come to the same conclusion. It was subtle, but as soon as Buffy as asked, Rupert had taken a step in front of Wesley, as if he were going to protect him. The gesture was both endearing and annoying.
"I almost fainted! And everyone was looking at me funny, probably because I was standing there with my mouth hanging open, but it was a big thing and . . . I can't believe you didn't tell me!"
Wesley stepped forward, trying to find the words to explain.
"I mean? Telepathy? Has to be the coolest thing in the Slayer toolbox!"
"What?" Both Rupert and Wesley said it together. Wesley couldn't look away from the Slayer, who was grinning like a lunatic.
"Telepathy?" Wesley felt as if the train of thought behind this conversation had just run him over. "We should have told you . . . about telepathy?" Not about us being together?
Buffy's eyes went even wider and she stared at Wesley as he'd just insisted the sky was green and little blue mice were eating his feet. "W-what? You and . . . and Giles? T-together?" Her mouth hung open.
Stunned silence hung the library. Wesley found himself rooted to the spot, certain his entire face had to be crimson, not to mention the rest of him. In that moment, he thought he might just be about to prove it was possible to die of mortification.
"Now, Buffy," Rupert began in a soothing tone. Wesley couldn't even bring himself to look at Rupert, since his entire body seemed frozen. He and Buffy just stared at one another.
"Like . . . together?" At the sound of Cordelia's voice, Wesley almost groaned. This was not going to go well and he was beginning to panic. His throat was closing up, breathing becoming more difficult.
"Wesley and I," Rupert began again, removing his glasses and rubbing at his eyes, but was cut off once again.
Buffy whirled on the others. "Would you people stop thinking about that! And, Cordelia, that is absolutely gross!"
"You mean, Giles and Wesley are . . ." Xander shook his head, smiling insanely. "But that's great! I mean, it's . . . well, um." He looked very confused for a moment, glancing at Cordelia and then at them and making a face. "Well, it's kinda . . . creepy, but . . ."
"Okay, am I the only one who didn't know Giles was gay?" Willow put in, her eyes big and round.
"That's enough!" Rupert shouted and Wesley's eyes whipped toward his lover, as did everyone else's. "My private life is not up for discussion. Do you all understand?" There were several nods, but none of them were Buffy's.
"I knew it!" She shouted, shaking her head. "Well, no, because . . . ew, but I knew you and Wesley were too cozy. I knew it! Except . . . I had no clue you were . . . Okay, that's not something I ever want in my brain again, Cordelia!." Buffy was pacing, shaking her head and then she stopped, gaping at them once more. "But I knew you two were hanging out a lot and that's just not normal or-or--"
"Buffy," Rupert actually growled, pointing to the office. Wesley was on his way to it immediately, because he was not going to be left out here with Xander, Willow, and Cordelia. Buffy might be in the office, but so was Rupert and that at least made it a fairly neutral place at the moment.
Buffy was following behind him, muttering to herself. Wesley took up a position in the corner of the office, somehow feeling better with his back to the wall. Rupert shut the door behind him and Wesley busied himself by noting each and every sign of his lover's frustration.
"Buffy? Completely disregarding the fact that you seem to be able to read minds, which we most certainly will be discussing in just a moment, why did you seem to believe it would be perfectly acceptable to announce that Wesley and I are lovers?"
"Lovers?" Buffy almost choked on the word, shuddering faintly. "Okay, that's not a word I ever need to hear you say again," she grumbled, before shrugging. "I'm sorry, Giles. I just . . . it was a surprise and . . . you didn't tell me that either! And Wesley? Why . . . I don't want to know." She gave a shudder.
Rupert sighed, looking rather torn and Wesley decided to step forward. "Buffy, it was I who didn't want to tell you a-about us. If you are going to be angry at anyone, it should be me."
"Mad? I . . . okay, I'm really grossed out," Buffy said with a slightly confused expression. "I mean . . . it's just kinda outta nowhere and . . . Giles is way too old to be getting smoochies, from anybody but--" She winced then and Wesley was fairly certain his thoughts were the cause. Until she turned on Rupert and he held up his hands.
"I'm sorry."
"I mean . . . why didn't you tell me Giles? Okay, so high 'ew' factor, but don't you think I should get to know? Know, in a very limited capacity, though. I mean, I definitely don't want to hear about it, or . . . see it, or . . . think about it, but . . ." Buffy shook her head again.
"Buffy, I had rather hoped you would be happy for me," he said, the slightly sad edge to his voice making Wesley want to go to him. He held himself still, of course, waiting.
"Oh . . ." Buffy looked torn now. She stopped, watching Rupert intently for a moment before her face cleared a bit and she looked as if she'd just been given a shock. She had, of course. Wesley sighed, waiting for her to process it all. "I am," she finally said, though she didn't sound as if she was sure of that. "Well, okay, I don't get it. I so don't get it, but . . . it's like when Xander was dating Cordelia, right? So . . . okay. Okay. I get it."
Wesley raised an eyebrow, confused by the apparently one sided conversation and yet quite relieved that Buffy wasn't going to . . . to what? Run screaming? Be angry, he supposed. Though he didn't know she wouldn't be angry at him, he wasn't really worried about that. He didn't want to have damaged her relationship with Rupert.
Rupert ducked his head and Wesley was fairly sure that it was to hide a smile. Sighing, Wesley tried, desperately, to get the discussion on a much more comfortable topic. "Buffy? Slayers aren't supposed to develop telepathy."
"They're not?" She looked tired, unconsciously reaching up a hand to rub at her forehead. "Because that was pretty much the only thing I could come up with."
"No, telepathy isn't normally a Slayer talent," Rupert agreed, sitting on the edge of his desk. Wesley went to sit next to him, embarrassed to do so in front of Buffy, but wanting very much to be next to Rupert. He made certain not to actually touch the other man, however. "So, we need to, uh, to find out how this came to be. Has anything out of the ordinary happened recently?"
Buffy snorted, shrugging. "Take your pick, right? I guess there were those demons last night and, oh, rash!" She held up her hand for Rupert and he to examine. Rupert took her hand, pulling her closer so that he could look at it under the magnifying glass.
"Hmm. It seems an ordinary rash. Tell us about these demons."
Wesley listened intently as Buffy described them, reaching for a book just as she mentioned the fact that they didn’t have mouths.
"Because they're telepathic," Buffy said, drawing both his and Rupert's eyes. "Oh, I heard both you guys think it. Uh, sorry. You two do that Watcher in stereo things in your heads too? That's . . . kinda creepy actually."
Wesley turned the book he'd opened so Buffy could see it. "Is this what they looked like?"
"Yeah! There were two of them."
Wesley nodded, scanning the lines beside the picture for some idea of what they were dealing with. "Hmm."
"What?" Both Rupert and Buffy asked at the same time. Wesley looked up and blinked.
"She's right. That is rather . . . creepy. Uh, it says that they can infect the host."
"Infect?" Buffy didn't sound pleased. Rupert leaned over, reading over his shoulder. Wesley moved the book to make it easier on him, both of them caught up in the descriptions. "Hey? Guys? Infect?"
"Oh, uh, infect the host with an aspect of the demon. That's all it says," Rupert replied with a slightly puzzled shrug.
"An aspect of the demon? Like . . . a part of it? So it just means the telepathy right? I’m not like going to sprout a tail or . . . baby demons or anything?"
"Uh, no," Rupert said with a slight laugh. "I think it means the telepathy."
"Okay, that's good. Telepathy, I can deal with, but I don't want a tail."
"Yes, well," Wesley cleared his throat, glancing at the door. He was rather startled that Buffy was . . . accepting of Rupert and his relationship, in fact he was stunned, but she was only one of the people whom he'd have to face. "Uh, do you think they've gone?"
"No," Buffy said, giving him a not entirely friendly look. "They're wondering what we're doing in here. At least Cordelia is. I never knew she had such a vivid imagination." Buffy scrunched her nose up and shuddered.
Wesley groaned, resting his head in his hands as Buffy left.
"I believe she was kidding," Rupert remarked and the laughter in his voice was the last straw.
"Do you think this is funny?" He asked between clenched teeth, raising his face to glare at Rupert.
Rupert opened his mouth to reply and then winced, sighing. "I . . . I don't think it's necessarily bad that they know, but--"
"Not bad? Are you insane?" Wesley felt his hands clenching into fists as he paced.
"Wesley? When was the last time the children treated you as an outsider?"
Wesley stopped his pacing, turning to meet Rupert's eyes. He thought about that, hard, trying to recall. Xander had been hostile, suspicious, and Willow and Buffy had both teased him, but he wasn't sure whether or not there was malice in it. Of course, after the look Buffy had given him . . .
"Xander? Two days ago. The others . . . not as often, or recently," he said softly, feeling his eyebrows draw together. "You, uh, don't . . . you don't think they're going to be, er, odd, about it?"
"Well, uh, I would expect some jokes, especially from Xander, though he might simply attempt to avoid the whole issue. Uh, Willow will be extra careful in attempt not insult either of us, which is probably going to lead to babbling.”
"It's just, uh, rather embarrassing," Wesley commented before he'd really thought through how it sounded. "Uh, not-not that I'm embarrassed about being with you, just--"
"Other people knowing?" Rupert put in with a raised eyebrow.
"Yes, but not the way you meant . . ." Groaning, Wesley gave up, laying his head in his hands once again. At the sound of Rupert's chuckle, the feel of the man's hand rubbing soothing circles on his back, Wesley looked up with a morose expression. "I'm not embarrassed by you, Rupert."
Rupert smiled, nodding. "I know. It's all right. It will take time for everyone to adjust, but, you'll see, it will be just the same as it is with Angel and Oz." There was a name Rupert was leaving off that list. Faith had known about the two of them and she'd never made a joke out of it. She referred to Rupert as 'his boy,' which Wesley thought was absurd on several levels, but she'd never made an issue of it. He could only wonder why.
Sitting back on the desk next to Rupert, Wesley sighed. "All right, but, uh, I'd still like to . . . well, uh, keep it quiet, if you . . . if you understand."
Rupert nodded, that warm hand never leaving Wesley's back. "I know." There was some slight sadness in Rupert's voice, but Wesley was too relieved to pursue the subject now. Later. They'd talk about it later. Much, he hoped.
"I'd . . . uh," Rupert began and there was something in his voice that made Wesley straighten up, look at him. "Lately, I'd been thinking that it was, perhaps, the time to tell the children."
For the second time that day, Wesley felt rooted to the spot. He blinked, trying to assimilate that information and everything it meant. Rupert had said that he'd want to tell the children if things between them ever became . . . something more. Wesley suddenly found it hard to breathe again and whether that was panic or something else he had no idea. Then Rupert hopped off the desk, moving to stand before him. Wesley looked at him, almost certain his confusion showed on his face.
"You don't agree?" Rupert asked softly, his hands cupping Wesley's face.
Wesley opened his mouth and then shut it, swallowing hard. It took him a moment to gather words. He reached up and covered Rupert's hands with his own. "I think that, uh, it was . . . from my end . . . I think it was time a while ago," he said softly, his eyes moving to Rupert's chin because he simply couldn't meet those gorgeous eyes just now. "Do, uh, you . . . do you remember when we went to your flat after retrieving the knife from that tomb? You said that, uh, that you were ready to listen whenever I decided to tell you what that was all about?"
Rupert's eyebrows rose, a smile twitching his lips. Wesley couldn't help but smile as well, seeing that look on Rupert's face. It eased a bit of his nervousness, at least enough that he could breathe again.
Rupert bent forward and Wesley moaned softly at the feel of his lover's lips rubbing against his own. The kiss contained many smaller ones, some brief, wet and opened mouthed, others only quick nibbles interspersed with much slower licks. When Rupert pulled away a bit, Wesley sighed, still smiling. Their faces were just inches from one another and Wesley's eyes flicked between meeting Rupert's gaze and staring at his lips.
"We should go back to investigating the knife," Wesley said reluctantly.
"Yes, we most definitely--" Rupert leaned in again and Wesley parted his lips, his tongue darting out to lick at Rupert's lips, tasting. The kiss only last for a few seconds before Rupert pulled back, panting. "We definitely should be researching the knife."
Wesley nodded, his eyes still fixed on Rupert's mouth. "Yes, and, uh, we have a new route to explore." This time it was Wesley who ducked forward, taking Rupert's bottom lip into his mouth and sucking gently. Rupert moaned and Wesley dove in to deepen the kiss. Wesley pulled back when he needed to breath, rubbing his mouth along Rupert's jaw line. "Buffy's telepathy could come in handy," he murmured, his mind working the problem while his body . . . made other plans.
"Wesley?" Rupert leaned in and they were back to those small kisses again. "Please don't mention Buffy when we're kissing. All right?"
"I think I can refrain," Wesley answered, closing his eyes, his hands moving along Rupert's arms until the landed on his shoulders. He kneaded, pulling Rupert just a bit closer, just enough that Wesley could feel the heat from his body.
The kiss changed, deepened. Wesley groaned at the feel of Rupert's tongue moving along his own, their bodies suddenly pressed tightly together. His hands moved over Rupert's back, Rupert's hands sliding down his chest and stomach to settle at his hips.
"Wow. I was right. That's hot." Cordelia's voice came from the doorway and Wesley jumped, freezing. Rupert pulled away, closing his eyes and, Wesley thought, counting to ten.
"Cordelia, if this is not important--"
"Oh, no, it is! Uh, Buffy kinda passed out in the cafeteria. I told Xander and Willow not move her, but--" Wesley and Rupert were already running past her, out the door, and toward the cafeteria. "Okay, rude much? She's outside!"
Wesley wasn't sure how he made it through the rest of the day. Once they'd gotten Buffy back to her home, he and Rupert had gone back to the library, back to the books. From there they'd found an account of another man in Buffy's condition, except that he was now locked away in isolation, unable to shut out the voices in his head.
The recipe for the antidote was easy enough to find, the only problem being that they'd need the heart of the second demon to complete it. Rupert's tension was a palpable energy around him, crackling when anyone, even Wesley, came too close. They'd gone to Angel immediately and as soon as the sun had set, he'd gone out to hunt the demon.
Wesley stood in the hall outside Buffy's bedroom, waiting for Angel to arrive. Rupert and Mrs. Summers were in the doorway, watching Buffy toss and turn. There were hours until sunrise. Angel had time. That was, at least, what Wesley kept telling himself as the night waned and those hours slipped by. There was nothing he could do except watch them suffer. Not only Buffy, who looked so very small and pale, but Rupert and Mrs. Summers as well.
Rupert pulled away from the doorway, murmuring something to Mrs. Summers before turning to Wesley. "I'm, uh, I'm going to sit out on the porch for a moment," he explained quietly.
"I'll come with you," Wesley replied, glad he had when a brief flicker of relief lit Rupert's eyes. He followed Rupert to the porch, watching as the man glanced around. Wesley thought he was hoping to see Angel, but there was no sign of the vampire.
"She'll go insane if he can't get it," Rupert whispered, slumping down onto the porch swing. Wesley sat next to him, reaching out to take Rupert's hand and squeezing it gently. There was nothing he could say to that, no comfort he could offer with words.
"It's, uh, it's odd to be waiting for Angel," Rupert said with a strange intonation. "I know he loves her and she loves him, but . . . it's quite hard to look the man in the face and I make him very nervous. Perhaps I should feel sorrier for that than I do." Rupert let out a bitter chuckle and Wesley opened to his mouth and then shut it, deciding he shouldn't interrupt, especially when there was nothing he could do. "I, uh, I told you that we'd talk about the . . . tension between Angel and myself later. If, uh, if you like I'll . . . I'll tell you what happened."
"I read it," Wesley replied, softly. "I read that part of your diaries." Rupert nodded, his eyes never leaving the street. He kept scanning it from one end to the other.
"I'd hoped you would. Uh, so that I wouldn’t have to . . ." Rupert let his words trail off and Wesley didn't push. Instead he leaned against Rupert, his thumb moving over the hand he held. He didn't know if it was enough. He didn't know how to offer any more comfort than this and yet Rupert's body relaxed slightly.
There was a shout. Both men stood as a blanket covered someone came tearing down the street. Wesley went to the door, throwing it open and then stepping aside as first Angel and then Rupert tore past him. Wesley followed them, pushing the door shut, and then bounding up the stairs.
He stood next to Rupert as they watched Angel feed Buffy. He helped to hold down the Slayer during her convulsions, doing his best to avoid Angel's desperate, questioning looks. When Buffy calmed and her eyes opened, Wesley nearly shouted with relief.
He and Rupert left with Buffy. She made Wesley promise he would take Rupert home to get some sleep, which put a very odd expression on Mrs. Summers' face and made Wesley blush like mad most of the way back to Rupert's flat.
Rupert all but collapsed on the sofa, his glasses tossed onto the coffee table. He rubbed at his eyes, yawning widely. Wesley watched him for a moment before going to retrieve a towel and his bath oil from the bathroom.
"Upstairs," Wesley said as he entered the living room again. Rupert blinked at him, his eyes flicking down to the towel Wesley had draped over his arm.
"I'm too wound up to sleep," Rupert replied, though there was a hint of confusion in his tone.
"Upstairs," Wesley repeated with a smile, not giving anything away. Rupert stood, giving him a confused smile before he turned to go, Wesley following him.
Once in the loft, Wesley set his supplies beside the bed, putting the bath oil out of sight since he found he rather liked keeping Rupert guessing. Rupert crossed his arms over his chest, watching with a smile as Wesley spread the towel over the bed. Once that was done, Wesley turned, walking over to Rupert and nudging his arms. Rupert uncrossed them, but said nothing, waiting.
Wesley reached up, keeping his eyes on his fingers as he unbuttoned Rupert's shirt. Rupert raised an eyebrow in question, but Wesley shook his head, giving Rupert an enigmatic smile. His fingers slid under the waistband of Rupert's trousers and he unbuttoned those as well, pulling down the zip. Leaning in close to Rupert's ear, he whispered, "Strip and lie down on your stomach."
Wesley glanced back over his shoulder as he turned to go get the oil. Rupert's eyebrows were very high indeed, though he did what Wesley had said. Rupert stretched out on the bed, his arms stacked beneath his head.
"I think, Wesley, that I should warn you that I'm utterly exhausted and as much as I'm enjoying this--which is very much, by the way--I don't think--" Wesley hushed him, quickly stripping out of his own clothes and retrieving the oil. He straddled Rupert's arse, getting a moan out of the man. Smiling at that, Wesley began his massage, starting with Rupert's neck. Rupert groaned and that only made Wesley grin wider as his fingers slid over tense muscle, kneading firmly and working his way down.
Rupert's back was a mass of knots. Wesley patiently worked each of them out, chuckling at each moan and groan he pulled from Rupert. Wesley kept working even after he'd thought Rupert had fallen asleep. He slid his hand over Rupert's arse, scratching lightly over the skin. It was Rupert's gasping groan when Wesley did so that let him know his lover wasn't, in fact, unconscious.
Wesley smiled, a tad wickedly, sliding one finger along Rupert's crease, pressing lightly. Rupert gasped again. "Wes? Unfortunately, I don't think that--"
"I thought I told you to hush," Wesley laughed, slapping lightly at one firm arse cheek. He hadn't expected to get the same gasping groaning from that. Leaning to the side, Wesley meet Rupert's gaze, raising his eyebrows. Rupert smiled, shrugging in answer to Wesley's question and then pointing to his lips.
"Ah, yes. I did tell you to hush, didn't I? Shame on me." Wesley shook his head and went back to what he'd been doing. Biting his lip, more unsure of himself than he was trying to let on, Wesley forged ahead, telling himself Rupert was half asleep anyway. He parted Rupert's arse cheeks, studying the sight before him for a moment before rubbing his thumb over Rupert's entrance.
The man bucked beneath him. Wesley left out a gasp of his own, his cock twitching. At the moment, that was a sure sign it was time to stop. Rubbing his hands up Rupert's back, Wesley rolled to lie beside Rupert.
"What was that all about?" Rupert asked as he scooted closer to Wesley, tossing an arm over Wesley's stomach.
"I was, er, exploring, which sounds very silly, I know, but--"
"It doesn't sound silly," Rupert contradicted, his voice sleepy. Wesley smiled at the sound as much as at what Rupert had said.
"Good. Uh, perhaps I can . . . do it again? When we're not both exhausted?" Wesley's voice was quiet and he half-hoped Rupert had already dozed.
"I hope you will," Rupert whispered against his neck. Wesley closed his eyes, reveling in the feel of Rupert, the weight of the arm draped over his stomach, the smell of the bath oil, the feel of the sheets. All of it. He took it in with every sense but his eyes, committing it to memory, just in case.
Tomorrow he'd call the Council. Tomorrow he'd tell them about Faith. Tomorrow he might be ordered back to England. Would he go? Lying there with Rupert snoring softly against his neck and the man's warmth surrounding him, he really wasn't certain. That worried him more than a little.
****
Chased from sleep by vivid dreams, Wesley woke before Rupert. Prying his eyes open, he looked over at the man. Rupert was lying diagonally across the bed, his head pillowed half on Wesley's shoulder and half on his own arm. Wesley sighed.
"That wasn't a particularly encouraging sound," Rupert said softly, one eye opening.
"I have to call the Council," Wesley blurted out, shrugging to hide his nervousness.
Rupert gave him an odd look at that, pulling back and propping himself upon his elbow. "About Faith? That's good. They're going to have to be on the look out for her should she leave Sunnydale."
"Yes, but after I argued for her being allowed to stay . . ." Wesley shook his head, refusing to meet Rupert's eyes, afraid of what he'd see there. "They might take me off this assignment."
Rupert's hand--which still rested on Wesley's stomach--twitched slightly. "You think they'll decide you aren't fit to be the active Watcher and want you to go back to England for another assignment?"
"Yes," Wesley murmured, sliding his hand over Rupert's. He was pathetically grateful that Rupert hadn't pulled his hand away.
"Will you go?"
Wesley gave a snort of sad laughter. "I knew that would be the first thing you'd ask."
"It's an important question." Rupert's voice was more serious, carefully neutral. Wesley bit his lip and shrugged.
"I don't know."
"I see." There was still no emotion in Rupert's voice, but the inflection had changed somehow, become harder.
"I want to be here," Wesley rushed to clarify, glancing up to meet Rupert's gaze. He was surprised there was no disappointment there, no anger.
Rupert nodded, a thoughtful look on his face. "Then the question is, if it comes down to a choice between obeying the Council and staying here, do you want to be here enough to tell the Council to bugger off."
Wesley nodded, swallowing hard. Rupert hadn't moved away from him, however, hadn't turned away. In fact, Rupert's fingers moved slowly over his stomach, rubbing small patterns. Neither of them spoke. Wesley tried to come to a decision, tried to unravel the tangle of emotions and thoughts and sort them into neat, separate piles so that he could analyze it all. It had never been so difficult to know what to do before he'd come to this town.
"Rupert?" He asked softly, wondering if the man had fallen back to sleep.
"Hmm?"
"Would you hate me if I couldn't quit the Council?"
Rupert's eyes opened and he stared at Wesley for a long moment. "Of course I wouldn't," he said softly. "I would miss you, but of course I wouldn't hate you."
Wesley nodded, giving Rupert a sad smile. "I should go make the call," he finally said, though he was certain his voice told of his reluctance to move.
Rupert nodded. "Good luck."
Wesley sighed and stood, pulling on his sweatpants and taking the steps more slowly than he normally would. He stared at the phone on the desk for a long while before finally picking it up. It was early enough that no one would be at lunch. Now was the time to call, if he were going to do it. Finally dialing the number, Wesley sat in Rupert's chair, his eyes moving over the desk. His fingers traced its edges and then traced the grain as he waited. After a moment, the phone was answered and Wesley asked for Travers.
"Mr. Travers, it's Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. No, I . . . I'm calling to inform you that we have a rogue Slayer. Faith."
The silence that greeted his announcement was sharp and painful. Wesley closed his eyes, waiting for what felt like forever. This was it. Even if they didn't call him back to England, his father would hear about this. He'd have to call the man eventually, and when he did . . .
"She's gone rogue?" Travers' voice was hard.
"Yes. She . . . she's working with Mayor Wilkins and has made an attack on Buffy."
"I see." What followed was a tirade that left Wesley feeling four years old, his stomach clenched tight and his head spinning. The blame, it was clear, would be placed squarely upon his shoulders and, truthfully, Wesley agreed that that's where it belonged.
"How are you planning on handling this situation?"
"I'm sorry?" Wesley nearly groaned as soon as the words left his lips. He simply hadn't expected Travers to ask such a question.
"How are planning on handling Faith? I assume you have worked out some sort of strategy. Surely you're not planning to simply let her roam free and homicidal."
"Of course not, sir," Wesley found himself saying, blinking as he mind raced. A plan. "At the moment we're still attempting to locate her. We know she's in Sunnydale, but haven't pinpointed where she's staying. Once we find her, we'll observe her and plan from there."
"Reasonable. I want to hear, immediately, if Faith leaves Sunnydale."
"You will. Of course."
Travers said his goodbyes and Wesley responded in a daze. Hanging up the phone, he stared at it for a long moment, only looking up when he heard Rupert's footsteps.
"I'm to deal with her," Wesley said, still dazed. "They, uh, they're not pulling me out." The last bit was said in a tone of utter relief.
Rupert smiled, but it was a dim thing compared to his usual grin. "I'm glad."
Wesley stood, moving to meet Rupert as he came around the desk. Wesley slipped his arms around him, relieved when Rupert's arms moved to hold him in return. After their earlier conversation, he'd not been entirely sure of his welcome. They watched one another for a moment and then Wesley leaned in, tasting Rupert's lips, feeling them part for him. He licked along them before thrusting his tongue inside, meeting Rupert's. Though the kiss began slowly, soon Wesley was pressing forward hard, Rupert meeting him with equal fervor.
Wesley needed that, needed to feel Rupert respond to him. Rupert squeezed at the back of Wesley's neck with one hand, the other gripping his hip. Wesley pressed himself tight against Rupert, his fingers dipping slightly into the drawstring sweats Rupert had put on to come downstairs. Rupert moaned and Wesley bucked his hips forward, echoing the sound when his half-hard cock ground against Rupert's.
He pushed his hands into the sweatpants, sliding them down over Rupert's arse, scratching lightly, hoping for the same reaction he'd gotten the night before. Rupert's cock twitched against him and Wesley pulled away from the kiss, groaning. They were both panting, chests moving fast and hard with each breath. Wesley darted in, biting lightly at Rupert's collarbone. Rupert arched, a soft, longing sound passing between his lips. Wesley bit just a tad harder before moving on to the bit of flesh just beside Rupert's nipple. He bit there too, reveling in the growl that got him from Rupert.
Wesley groaned as Rupert retaliated, beginning to lick at that sensitive spot behind Wesley's ear. Rupert's hands were moving over him, traveling Wesley's skin as if he were trying to memorize it. Rupert's lips moved lower, nibbling lightly. "Turn around," he said against Wesley's jaw line.
Seeing the mischievous light in Rupert's eyes, Wesley complied, looking at his lover over his shoulder. "What are you up to?"
Rupert pressed his body tight to Wesley's back, his arms coming up to wrap around Wesley's stomach. Rupert kissed at that spot just behind Wesley ear again, murmuring. "You seemed quite interested in my office, yesterday. When I mentioned what would likely happen if we didn't stop touching one another?"
Wesley thought for a moment and then he remembered. The desk. Being bent over it. His heart picked up its pace, his eyes skittering to Rupert's desk.
"I want you," Rupert said in his ear.
"Here?" Wesley gave Rupert a startled look, though his cock hardened further at the words. "In the living room? Rupert, what if one of the children show up?"
"The door is locked." Rupert scraped his teeth along Wesley earlobe. "The peep hole's shut." Rupert's hands slid over his stomach, making Wesley's muscles jump and pulling a gasp from him. "The blinds are drawn." Rupert bit lightly at his shoulder and Wesley's back bowed slightly. "And I have this incredible urge to see you bent over my desk." As nice as the nibbles to Wesley's neck felt, they weren't what made him shiver, made his cock pulse and his mouth go dry.
"You seem to like the idea," Rupert chuckled, the fingers of one hand caressing the skin just above Wesley sweatpants, sneaking slowly under the waistband.
Wesley groaned, pushing his arse back against Rupert. "Yes," he finally managed.
"You want me to fuck you over the desk?" Rupert's voice was deep, intense, still carrying a hint of that earlier growl in the words.
"Yes," Wesley knew he sounded breathless. Rather hard not to when one could barely breath. Rupert's fingers brushed the head of his cock and Wesley whimpered. Rupert's other hand was lying flat on his stomach, pulling their bodies together.
"Say it?" Rupert asked, his hips bucking forward, hard cock rubbing firmly against Wesley's arse.
"I, oh God, I want . . . I want you to-to fuck me over the desk." Wesley thought he might be blushing, but it was hard to tell with his skin tingling all over anyway. Rupert groaned against his skin and Wesley echoed the sound. Rupert's fingers wrapped around Wesley's throbbing cock and Wesley bucked into the grip, moaning.
The hand that had rested on his stomach moved to Wesley's shoulder blade, gently pushing him forward. Gasping, Wesley took a step closer to the desk, his mind a riot of thoughts, heart pounding. Slowly, he bent forward, a slight, breathless sound escaping him at the cool wood against his overheated skin.
He swallowed hard, his breath coming faster. Rupert's fingers slipped into his waistband. "God, Rupert," he said, his hips jerking of their own volition as Rupert dragged the sweatpants down his hips until they pooled at his feet.
"Shh, I'm right here," Rupert replied. He took a step away and Wesley almost straightened. "I'm not leaving, Wes. Just getting undressed."
Wesley was somewhat calmed, but his heart still beat fast. He felt vulnerable like this, somehow more exposed than he did in Rupert's bed, or even on the sofa. He'd never really thought about how open the flat was, how visible he was. The thought sent a throbbing jolt of arousal through him and Wesley bit his lip to keep from making a sound.
Then Rupert was behind him again. He shivered as Rupert pressed against him, just as naked and just as hard. "You're beautiful like this."
Wesley shuddered, reaching his hands out to grasp the far side of the desk. Rupert's hands were on his back, starting just above his arse and rubbing, firmly, upward. Wesley arched into the touches and then groaned as Rupert laid his own body along Wesley's. Bending over that way pressed Rupert's cock hard against his arse.
Then Rupert was straightening again, bring his nails down Wesley's back. Wesley arched, groaning. One of Rupert's hands slipped lower, fondling Wesley's balls. Wesley found himself let out a series of small, gasping pants. The hand on his balls moved higher, gripping his cock. Wesley choked back a groan, finding it hard to keep his hips still.
Rupert squeezed his cock and Wesley felt the air against it, cool where precum had pooled. Rupert swiped his thumb over the head and Wesley jerked forward again, moaning as Rupert pulled back his foreskin.
"Rupert, please,"
"I'm here," Rupert said. Wesley heard a drawer open, but his focus was far more on Rupert's hand, squeezing and pulling at his prick. He wasn't going to be able to take this much longer.
"I love seeing you so wanton," Rupert said, his hand sliding down to the base of Wesley's cock, circle it in a tight grip, staving off Wesley orgasm. "You’re always so controlled. I love seeing you lose it."
Wesley whimpered, pushing his arse back against Rupert, gratified by the groan he drew from the man. Rupert stepped slightly away from him and Wesley whimpered at the loss, making to stand.
"Just a moment," Rupert said and Wesley heard the tear of a condom package. Anticipation flared hotter inside him and Wesley took deep breaths as he waited. He heard the click of a lid and his only thought was to be thankful Rupert had some sort of lubricant down here. Cool, extremely slick fingers moved along Wesley's crease, teasing.
"Rupert, please," Wesley begged, rocking back against the touch. Rupert relented with a slight chuckle, pushing two fingers inside Wesley in one quick thrust. Wesley gasped, thrusting backward. Rupert's fingers slid over his prostate and he shouted, unable to clamp down on it. Rupert worked him hurriedly, sliding them in and out and pressing another finger inside.
Wesley came off the desk, pressing his palms against it for better leverage as he pushed hard against Rupert's hand and then jerking forward into the fist Rupert wrapped around his aching shaft. His nerves felt as if they were on fire and Rupert's mouth was suddenly on his neck again, licking and biting as Wesley fucked himself on Rupert's hand.
"God, so damn eager," Rupert groaned against his skin.
"More," Wesley gasped, tilting his head back and moaning loudly. Rupert withdrew his fingers, but Wesley barely had time to complain before Rupert pressed into him, hard and fast, nearly frantic.
Wesley pushed hard against the desk, frozen for a moment, speared by Rupert's cock and so damn close to coming. Rupert began stroking him again as he withdrew. Wesley groaned, his balls drawing up and tightening as Rupert slammed back into him. He was pushed forward, the desk hard beneath him, Rupert bending over him. Wesley felt his whole body begin to tingle, balls tightening as he came, clenching around Rupert's cock and milking himself in his lover's fist. His orgasm hit him hard, his body alive with feeling.
Rupert kept moving, a long, low moan issuing from his lips as hips jerked faster and faster. Wesley clenched tighter, felt Rupert's cum-slicked hand move to his hip. He pressed back to meet the thrusts and Rupert went still, gasping out Wesley name. There was a long moment when they were both frozen, reeling.
Then Rupert's weight slumped onto him and Wesley sighed happily.
Continued here.