Angelus is still torturing Wes
Dec. 10th, 2004 09:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cheesygirlI'm writing my Wes/Angelus pr0n again! Heh. Slow going, but it is going. I still want to finish this. Hopefully before the decade is out.
Previous part here
Wesley caught his breath and felt his pulse quicken, and even more disconcerting, felt himself harden.
“Mmmm. He’d dream about your hands drifting over his chest, down his stomach, grabbing hold of his cock and stroking, stroking...” Angelus was slowly thrusting his groin into Wesley’s back. He could feel that Angelus was hard too.
"Now I've buggered many a pretty boy in my time, so I've got no problem with that, but what Angel wants from you, that goes beyond fucking. 'Cos in Angel's dreams, there's kissing and touching and, worst of all, cuddling." Angelus says the last word with a shudder of disgust. "He wants more than just your cock or your arse, boy. He wants you.”
Wesley closed his eyes and tried to get his mind around all this information. All these years he’d wanted Angel. At first he’d denied it, tried to ignore it. Angel was his boss, his friend. He loved him, but not like that. But he couldn’t help the feelings that kept coming. He’d had his own fantasies that left his hand and his stomach wet and sticky with his come. Angel kissing him, running his hands down his back, holding him, whispering things both profane and sweet in his ear, bending him over and fucking him mercilessly. After awhile he just accepted it as something he could never do anything about. Angel couldn’t feel the same way about him.
This was Angelus, Wesley told himself, not Angel. It was possible he would he ever see Angel again. Or it could be Angelus playing him, trying to catch him with his pants down, so to speak.
“So, Wesley old pal. Just what should we do to occupy our time until this apocalypse comes to pass. Chess? The Soap Network? Or would you like to relieve a little of that tension you’ve been holding in for, what, the last four years or so?”
One of Angelus’ hands had drifted down in front of Wes’ trousers and was ghosting over his straining erection.
Angelus chuckled.
“So, you got a thing for Angel, do ya, Wes? Doesn’t surprise me. He’s your ideal, isn’t he? Handsome, powerful, feared. A champion. All the things you ever wanted to be but never were, never will be. But for once in your miserable life, one of your desires has come to be.”
Wes’ breathing had become ragged. Angelus grasped his cock firmly and held tight.
“You know what, Wesley?” Angelus whispered in his ear.
Wes could only release a desperate whimper.
“I’m not Angel.”
Angelus pulled his hand away.
Previous part here
Wesley caught his breath and felt his pulse quicken, and even more disconcerting, felt himself harden.
“Mmmm. He’d dream about your hands drifting over his chest, down his stomach, grabbing hold of his cock and stroking, stroking...” Angelus was slowly thrusting his groin into Wesley’s back. He could feel that Angelus was hard too.
"Now I've buggered many a pretty boy in my time, so I've got no problem with that, but what Angel wants from you, that goes beyond fucking. 'Cos in Angel's dreams, there's kissing and touching and, worst of all, cuddling." Angelus says the last word with a shudder of disgust. "He wants more than just your cock or your arse, boy. He wants you.”
Wesley closed his eyes and tried to get his mind around all this information. All these years he’d wanted Angel. At first he’d denied it, tried to ignore it. Angel was his boss, his friend. He loved him, but not like that. But he couldn’t help the feelings that kept coming. He’d had his own fantasies that left his hand and his stomach wet and sticky with his come. Angel kissing him, running his hands down his back, holding him, whispering things both profane and sweet in his ear, bending him over and fucking him mercilessly. After awhile he just accepted it as something he could never do anything about. Angel couldn’t feel the same way about him.
This was Angelus, Wesley told himself, not Angel. It was possible he would he ever see Angel again. Or it could be Angelus playing him, trying to catch him with his pants down, so to speak.
“So, Wesley old pal. Just what should we do to occupy our time until this apocalypse comes to pass. Chess? The Soap Network? Or would you like to relieve a little of that tension you’ve been holding in for, what, the last four years or so?”
One of Angelus’ hands had drifted down in front of Wes’ trousers and was ghosting over his straining erection.
Angelus chuckled.
“So, you got a thing for Angel, do ya, Wes? Doesn’t surprise me. He’s your ideal, isn’t he? Handsome, powerful, feared. A champion. All the things you ever wanted to be but never were, never will be. But for once in your miserable life, one of your desires has come to be.”
Wes’ breathing had become ragged. Angelus grasped his cock firmly and held tight.
“You know what, Wesley?” Angelus whispered in his ear.
Wes could only release a desperate whimper.
“I’m not Angel.”
Angelus pulled his hand away.
