__I Hope, I Think, I Know__
By Kath
ANGEL:
It's 3 a.m., and I'm restless. I've been out since sundown, but
everything is quiet for once, so I head back to Cordelia's - my temporary
home - for a little late night T.V., or maybe a game of chess with
Dennis. I quietly unlock the door with 'my' key and I'm about to flip on
the lights, when I see him. Wesley. He is sitting at the dining room
table, with his books spread out before him, and he is fast asleep, head
pillowed on a stack of papers. It is irrational to say my heart leaps at
the sight of him, since I have no heartbeat, but I feel it just the same.
He is so beautiful when he sleeps - I could watch him forever, I think.
I don't remember silently gliding across the room, but here I am,
standing over him. The moon is shining bright through a break in the
curtains, and it's light is softly bathing him, embracing him like I wish I
could. I can hear the slight wheeze of his snore, as his back rises and
falls in time with it.
Not for the first time, I try to think back to the first time I ever saw
Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, wannabe Watcher, but I can't. Truth be told,
he made no impression on me at all. He was just 'some guy' that Buffy
had no respect for. As always, I had followed her lead. He wasn't
gonna last long anyway. Boy, was I wrong! The more I saw of him, the
less I liked him: arrogant, bossy, and completely useless in a fight.
Gotta give him credit for having guts though; knowing what I am - what
I once was - and still daring to come into *my* home to kidnap Faith. It
was a bone-head move, but one he probably wouldn't have made if
we'd included him more into our confidences.
Wesley has turned his head over now, and I can see his face more
clearly. He looks almost like a child when he sleeps, and I have to resist
the urge to wipe away a tiny line of drool, as it creeps out of his mouth.
When did I start to feel such affection for this man? There are so many
little moments that I treasure: the time he stuck his fighting adz into the
wall, and couldn't get it out; the way he tenderly reassured Cordelia that
he'd stay by her, even though his fear of her demonic pregnancy was
written on his face; the day he and Cordy fought over her using his
demon hunting knife to cut her brownies; the night he stood up to
Angelus, and then forgave me for the terribly cruel things I had said to
him. Wesley is like a cat, only with 100 lives. The more life knocks him
down, the quicker he is to get up and try again. I suppose it just
dawned on my one day, that I really do care what happens to him, as
much as I do Cordelia.
When did I first lust after the demon hunter (excuse me, *rogue*
demon hunter)? That one is easy. It was the night he and Cordelia
rescued me from the gladiator ring. I was pretty messed up, and Wes
insisted on staying, after Cordy had gone home, to help me dress my
wounds. Just the feel of his warm slender fingers on my back and chest
was enough to drive me wild. He was so tender, and his face so full of
concern, that I felt myself falling into his blue-grey stare. That was the
first time I had wanted to grab his face and kiss him.
I knew I was in love with him the moment I saw our office explode. The
fear that he might be inside was almost too much for me to bear,
especially after what had happened to Cordelia....and Doyle. Who knew
I would ever be willing to run through a wall of fire in search of
Wesley?!
I just want to sit here and watch him sleep. I move to push aside one of
his books, so I can sit on the edge of the table, but another one tips off
the side, with a crash.
"Shit!"
Wesley stirs and gazes up at me with bleary eyes.
"Angel? Is there something wrong? Do you need me?"
"Yeah, Wes, I need you."
Shit, I hadn't meant to say that out loud. He is smiling at me now,
eager to please, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with those long,
delicate fingers of his. He finds his glasses and firmly plants them back
on his nose.
"Angel?"
Even with the moonlight, it is too dark in here for me to see if those big
concerned eyes are blue or grey tonight. Not that it matters much to
me - I like them both ways.
My hands are acting independently from my brain, apparently. I have
reached up and I'm lightly running my fingers down the side of his face.
I've frightened him now. I can see it in his eyes. That, and the fact that
he's out of his chair, backing away from me.
"A-A-Angel?"
I wish he'd stop saying that. I back off and hold my hands up, in a
surrender pose.
"It's okay, Wes. I'm still me. I didn't mean to startle you." He doesn't
trust me, and that hurts. He must see that, because now he's in
apologetic puppy mode.
"I'm sorry. I fell asleep. I - I was researching that latest demon we
encountered last week. No luck yet, I'm afraid. I - is there anything you
need me to do?"
Maybe it's the moonlight. Maybe it's those drinks I had at the bar before
I came back. I can't stop myself from moving closer to my quarry. He
just keeps looking at me, all innocent and trusting. Fuck it, I can't wait
any longer. I'm so close he is pinned to the wall.
"What would you *like* to do, Wes?"
Oh, please, tell me I did not just say that.
"Oh...ah...OH!"
He gets it now, and, even in this light, I can see him blushing.
"Angel, I'm not...uh...I don't..."
I back off a little.
"I know you don't Wesley, I'm sorry. I was just teasing....uh, I got
carried away, that's all."
He's got his head cocked to one side, and he's scrutinizing me closely. I
swear I feel hot. Can vampires blush? His eyebrows are all scrunched
together and his lips are practically non-existent, he's pursing them so
tight. I still want to kiss him, scrunchy face and all, but I can't. I should
never have started this. I turn to leave, but his voice stops me.
"Angel, wait..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
WESLEY:
I wake with a start, disoriented at first. I look up to find Angel looming
over me, a strange expression on his face that I've not seen before. The
moonlight shining off his pale skin gives him an eerie glow. I look
around, and realize I am still at Cordelia's. I had been asleep, face down
in my work again.
"Angel? Is there something wrong? Do you need me?"
"Yeah, Wes, I need you."
I smile, ready for action. Well, alright, not quite ready. I wipe the sleep
from my eyes and hunt down my glasses. I am waiting for Angel to
continue, but he just stares at me, with that odd little look.
"Angel?"
He is touching my face. Why is he touching my face like that?! I am
frozen with fear, and only one thought shoots through my brain:
ANGELUS! I do not dare take my eyes off his, but manage to stand and
back away. Not that this will help, if he really has turned again.
"A-A-Angel?"
He is retreating a bit. My instincts tell me he is still Angel - not Angelus.
I cannot explain how I know - I just do. He appears to be in pain. Oh,
I've hurt his feelings. It invariably surprises me when he allows his
emotions to show through his brooding facade. I feel bad, and I try to
cover up by babbling about our latest case. I am not even listening to
what I'm saying. If he hasn't turned, why is he unnerving me so?
"Is there anything you need me to do?" I ask expectantly, hoping to get
back to familiar territory.
He is moving closer to me again. I am already against the wall, and still
he keeps advancing. He is so close that I should be able to feel his
breath on me. Damn - I forgot - there is no breath.
"What would you *like* to do, Wes?"
His voice is unexpectedly husky, thick with...
"Oh...ah...OH!"
He's coming on to me. ME! I can feel the heat radiating from my
cheeks and spreading throughout my entire body. Surely, he doesn't
think I'm...I mean, I would think Angel, of all people, could see past
that 'British Poofter' stereotype. Unless he has misinterpreted my
eagerness to please...
"Angel...I'm not...uh...I don't..." Smooth Wesley, very smooth.
He is falling back again, pretending it was all a joke. Except, Angel
doesn't joke. I inspect him closely; I have shifted into 'investigation
mode'. He is sweating, and I would swear he was flushed, if I thought it
possible. He won't meet my gaze and he cannot seem to keep his
hands still. I don't think he was kidding, and I am suddenly awash in my
own emotions: compassion, sympathy, wonder, pride...love.
That I love my vampire employer is no surprise to me. It is not a sexual
thing, but rather a pure love for another hu...well, being. He was the
first person - yes, I do think of him as a person - in my life that, after
watching me fail, time and again, still invited me into his life. He
accepts me as I am, faults and all, and I love him for that.
I think back to the first time I ever saw him - at The Bronze, with Buffy.
He was so calm, strong, and self-assured, and he treated me like I was
nothing. That he held the affections of the Slayer, was obvious. The
encounter left me bewildered, floundering, and extremely jealous.
Finding out later that he was, indeed, the vampire Angelus, certainly did
nothing to improve my opinion of him. Of course, at the time, I was
much too narrow-minded to see what was really going on.
I cannot help but shudder, when I think of the two lowest points in my
short-lived career in Sunnydale. The first was my failed attempt at
returning Faith to England. How I ever had the audacity to enter Angel's
lair, to strike him down and remove Faith from his care, is beyond me.
That Angel brought it up to me nearly a year later, still with bitterness in
his voice, is a testimony to the magnitude of my mistake. The second
was not really my fault, but I still look back on it with shame. Angel lay
dying, the Slayer - his lover - asking me for help. I truly believe I did
everything I could; the Council refused to budge. Yet, I am ashamed
that I could not have been more compassionate, more understanding.
Perhaps, if I had been, Buffy would not have felt compelled to quit the
Council, leading to the downward spiral that was my career as a
Watcher.
The thought I truly cannot bear, however, is how different - how much
worse - my life would be right now, had Angel died back then. I think -
no, I *know* - I would now gladly give my life to save his. The irony, of
an ex-Watcher willing to die for a vampire with a soul, is not lost on
me. I cannot help smiling to myself.
I am quickly aroused from my reflections, as Angel turns to leave.
Suddenly, I don't want him to.
"Angel, wait..."
He turns back to me, slowly, his thoughts unreadable. I am seized,
momentarily, by panic. My mind is not sure what comes next, but,
plainly, my body is. This time, it is I who approaches Angel, and he who
is hesitant, unsure of my motives. I don't stop moving, until we are
inches from each other.
"What do you want, Wesley? I told you to forget it."
Is that hope in his eyes? There is no going back now, as I swallow the
lump growing in my throat. My mouth is so dry, my tongue feels like
sandpaper.
"I don't want to forget it, Angel. I want to *do* something for you."
When did my hands move to his hips? I am so nervous, I'm shaking.
Am I afraid he will say 'yes', or am I afraid he will reject me?
"I don't need the pity party, Wes."
He sounds very angry, which perplexes me. Have I made a horrible
mistake? I notice he hasn't moved away from me though, and my hands
are still where I left them.
"It's not pity, Angel. I...I...I just want to show you how much I care
about you."
Time is frozen, as we stand facing each other, then I feel his fingers
running along my face again. This time I sense the affection behind the
gesture. He truly does care about me, I realize. Tears spring to my
eyes, but I fight them back. I feel his other hand resting on my hip, as
he pulls me even closer.
"Angel? You asked me what I wanted..."
"Yes?"
"I...I want to feel your breath on my face."
The request clearly startles him, and this amuses me to no end. I can
feel myself grinning like an idiot. Now he is smiling too. I never noticed
what a charming smile he has. It lights up his whole face. I must
remember to tell him that, sometime. I watch him, as he leans in
towards me, our noses touching. I realize I am holding my breath; then
I feel it - his soft breath blowing against my lips. This simple sensation
seems to ignite a fiery passion inside me, as, much to my amazement,
my body begins to react to his closeness and his touch. He is not a
man; he is merely Angel. I put a hand on his chest and feel it moving
up and down, mirroring a normal breathing pattern. For some reason,
this is comforting to me.
"Are you sure you want this, Wesley?"
He is providing me with an out, even though I can feel him pressing
against me, wanting me. I raise my hand to his face, to trace its outline
gently, and nod only once, before our lips come crashing together in a
deep kiss.
* * * * *
He's calling after me, but I'm not sure I should stay. I don't trust myself
with him tonight. I turn around anyway, trying to mask my thoughts. He
looks frightened, but he's coming towards me anyway. Now *I'm*
frightened. He finally stops, right in front of me.
"What do you want, Wesley? I told you to forget it."
His hands are on my hips and I feel him shaking.
"I don't need the pity party, Wes."
My voice came out harsher than I'd intended it to. I just hate to see him
doing something he's going to regret later, out of some misplaced
feeling of duty. I've upset him again; he looks hurt and confused. I
can't stand to see him upset.
"It's not pity, Angel. I...I...I just want to show you how much I care
about you."
If my heart were beating, it would have stopped. My world just flipped
upside down. I reach out to him once again, in a gesture now familiar
to him. I pretend not to notice his tears, and pull his body closer to
mine. I like the feel of his soft cotton shirt and the denim of his jeans
brushing against my arm. He always looks good in blue. My hips
involuntarily thrust against his leg, but he doesn't seem to notice.
"Angel? You asked me what I wanted..."
"Yes?"
I...I want to feel your breath on my face."
His request throws me for a loop. I never expected him to say *that*. I
must have a goofy look on my face, because he is grinning at me. My
insides turn to mush when I see that beautiful smile, and I realize I am
smiling too. It's such a simple request, not that I'd be able to deny him
*anything* at the moment. I raise my face up to meet his, until we are
nose to nose. Somewhere in the back of my brain, it registers that I
can't feel *his* breathing, but I concentrate on my own. While I don't
need to breathe to exist, it is quite easy for me to simulate it when I
want, and even unconsciously maintain it for quite a while.
From the first breath on his face, Wesley feels different in my arms.
One hand rests on my chest and he is leaning into me, his body creating
friction against mine. He is getting very warm, and, finally, I can feel his
panting on my face. Still, I want to give him a way out, before things go
any further.
Are you sure you want this, Wesley?"
His fingers are running delicately along my face. I never knew how
erotic that could feel. I barely allow time for him to nod, before pulling
him in for our first kiss. I want to devour his mouth, but manage a
modicum of restraint. He tastes so sweet, like I knew he would. His
smell wafts over me: Ivory soap, mixed with sweat and cologne.
My companion begins to struggle against me, and I finally remember he
needs to breathe. His face is red and his eyes are glassy, as he gasps
for air.
"Sorry, Luv."
He's stiffening in my arms. I've said something wrong, but I don't know
what. I nervously run my fingers through his short, dark hair, pleading
to him with my eyes, for forgiveness. The smile wavers, but then
returns to his face. I can't help letting out a sigh of relief. He relaxes
again, and I can feel his hands running up and down my back. It feels
good, but I can think of another place I'd like his touch. I decide to show
him, and reach down to squeeze his crotch through his jeans. I am
rewarded with a groan escaping his lips, and I can feel him growing
hard against my hand.
He has begun to kiss my neck, and the sensation is driving me wild. I
bury my face in his neck; his pulse is throbbing against my lips. The
sudden desire to bite him swoops in out of nowhere, enveloping me. I
actually feel one of my fangs scrape his skin, before I come to my
senses. We pull away from each other, and I know he is aware of what
nearly happened. All the color has drained from his face, as he eyes me
guardedly. Angelus is foremost in his thoughts again. He knows too
much about my past to ever trust me completely.
A wave of despair flows over me, and I slink to Cordelia's couch, where
I sit with my head in my hands. I don't cry very often, but cold salty
tears are running down my face. I keep listening for the sound of the
apartment door opening, but it doesn't come. I peek up and Wesley is
still standing firm, where I left him, and he's watching me intently. I
hate him for his ability to look so detached, so clinical. I examine him
closer though, and can see how terribly conflicted he really is. I can
sense anger rolling off of him, which stuns me. Is he angry with me?
Not that I would blame him, if he was.
In one swift move, he is kneeling on the rug in front of me, his strong
fingers gripping my knees tightly, his face peering anxiously up into
mine. He is still angry, but not with me.
"It's not fair, Angel. After all the good you have done, you're still being
punished."
"I can never make up for all the evil I did before, Wesley," I say, softly.
"That wasn't you - that was the demon inside you."
"The demon is *still* inside me, Wes," I remind him, gently.
His innocence is going to break my heart yet. He looks like I kicked him
in the stomach. Without another word, I pull him up onto the sofa with
me, and I wrap my arms around his wiry frame, holding him close. I
don't like letting him go, but he pulls back to study me intently. He is
wearing his most stubborn, determined face - the one he usually brings
out when I try to keep him from going demon hunting with me. He can
be so child-like at times.
I don't have long to wonder what's on his mind, before he leans in and
kisses me. Okay, forget what I said about child-like. I know he's made
up his mind, and I'm sure not going to stop him. His hand is on my
crotch now, and he's rubbing me hard again. His other hand has snaked
under my black sweater and he's tweaking my hardening nipples, first
one then the other. I sure never took him for the aggressive type. I
laugh against his kiss, and he pulls back, hurt. My poor baby, he is just
too sensitive.
"Oh, stop looking so wounded," I tease. "I just wanted to suggest we go
to my bedroom. This couch doesn't look too comfortable for what I
have in mind."
I wiggle my eyebrows wickedly at him, and delight in seeing Wesley
blush again. I cup his chin in my hand for a beat, then pull him up with
me, leading him to my tiny, temporary sanctuary.
=========================
WESLEY:
I never thought a kiss from a man, let alone a preternatural one, could
feel so good; not that I have had alot of experience kissing women
either. My head is spinning, and I feel like I may pass out. Warning
alarms go off. Oxygen! I can't breathe! He's so strong, as I push
against him. He finally releases me, with a sheepish grin. He forgot.
"Sorry, Luv."
The name 'Faith' screams through my head, and I cannot help but recoil
from it. Angel could not have known she called me that... that night
she... He looks so worried now; he thinks he did something wrong. I
take a deep breath and try to smile reassuringly. I am not sure if I
succeeded, however, so I wrap my arms around him once more, feeling
his muscles through his thin black sweater.
Oh God, he's got hold of me. "Mmmmmmmm" I had no idea I could
moan like that. That feels soooo good. This is really happening. I lean
in, to kiss his neck and to smell his musky smell. Now he's kissing my
neck too, and the shared experience is exhilarating - or is it the hand
rubbing *down there* that is doing it.
PANIC! I shove myself away. He was going to bite me! I felt his fangs
on my throat. How can I be so sure he isn't Angelus? He could be
toying with me. Think, Wesley; use your brain. You've dealt with
Angelus before.
I watch him closely, as he goes to the sofa, a picture of despair. I could
just leave now. That would probably be best. But, I can't move; I can
only watch him. He's crying. I didn't know vampires cried. Angelus
wouldn't cry; Angelus hates me. I have gotten a glimpse of what it must
be like for Angel every day - to want so much, and not be allowed any of
it. I am furious: at the gypsies, for their curse; at the Powers That Be;
at Darla; at myself, for not being able to trust him.
Before I can second guess my decision, I am on my knees in front of
him. I want him to feel better, and I try to put the blame on anyone but
him, on the demon Darla cursed him with.
"The demon is *still* inside me, Wesley."
Oh, I did not want to hear that. I know it's true, of course, but I want to
pretend it's not, at least for tonight. He has me up in his strong arms
now, trying to placate me. I want him to know I've made my choice -
demon or not, I want to be with him. I look deeply into his eyes, and
then I kiss him. I feel a need to bury myself inside him, to feel his bare
skin under my touch. As I rub his chest under his shirt, I can hear him
laughing at me. I wish he would stop sending me on this emotional
roller coaster. I cannot take much more. I believe I miss Angel's
laconic side.
"Oh, stop looking so wounded."
He's teasing me. I can feel myself blushing (again!) as he suggests we
move to his bedroom. Ever the obedient puppy, I allow him to lead me
there.
The room is very small, but it serves it's purpose. There is a twin bed,
and a closet for Angel's new wardrobe. A few salvaged weapons and
belongings are stacked on the floor, in the corner. The single window is
covered securely with a heavy drapery.
I hesitate, the full impact of our impending actions becoming real, at the
sight of the bed. The bedspread is black, no doubt a subtle joke of
Cordelia's, and it is neatly made. I shove aside the rising panic, and
swallow hard, looking pleadingly at my future lover, hoping he will take
charge. He must have read my mind, because he is over to me now,
laying feathery kisses on my face and neck, and his fingers work to
unbutton my shirt.
I can only stand there, arms at my sides, until Angel chuckles softly and
reaches down. He moves my hands to the fastener on his trousers, as
he begins to unfasten mine. I fumble with the clasp, and eventually I
manage to unzip them. I can feel him, rock hard, under my shaky
fingers. He thrusts his hand down my pants, as his mouth works its way
down my chest, capturing my left nipple. With this double stimulus I can
only tilt my head back and release a loud, guttural groan. He is laughing
again, as he puts a finger to my lips and indicates, with a nod of his
head, the far wall. Of course - Cordelia. I had quite forgotten she was
in the next room.
Taking a bit of the initiative, I slide his sweater up and off, and stop,
mesmerized by the broad expanse of his naked torso. I lick my lips
hungrily, as he yanks my shirt down off my arms. With one deft tug, my
trousers and boxers drop down to my ankles. I am completely
exposed. He finishes my job for me, shoving his trousers down, lifting
each foot to remove his shoes and shake loose the offending clothing. I
manage to do the same, before he pulls me into his crushing embrace.
Our groins grind together fiercely, and our hands wind through each
other's dark hair, as our tongues flick in and out of each other's mouths.
I feel like I am flying, but it's just Angel shoving me down onto the bed,
before climbing on top of me. He has me pinned down with his leg, as
his mouth continues to ravage mine. His skin is so nice and cool against
my hot sweaty body. I feel his hand tugging on my nearly painful
erection. For the first time, I reach for his too, tentatively at first, but
then with long, confident strokes. It is Angel that moans now, and I grin
under his kiss. We break apart and I can't help but look at him
adoringly. I reach up to put my warm hand against his cool cheek, and
he moves to kiss it.
I am tensing now; I can feel myself reaching the edge.
"Angel," I gasp.
"Just a little longer, Wes," he manages to grunt.
He slows his pace slightly, while I increase mine. He is panting in my
face now, and his eyes are wild and unseeing. I close mine, just trying
to hang onto the edge of the cliff.
"Now, Wesley!" He is rocking into me, as we writhe together in mutual
pleasure. I finally release my warmth onto him, as I feel his - ice cold -
on my stomach and chest. Completely spent, all I can manage is to lie
back on the bed, and fondle his hair, as he licks my torso clean. He
comes up now, for a salty kiss, and collapses on top of me, exhausted.
Our bodies entwine, and I feel sleep overtaking me, when I hear his
whisper in my ear.
"I love you, Wesley."
"I love you too, Angel."
I realize he means it, and my final thoughts, before sleep, are of how
happy I am.
* * *