Coming Out of the Closet

Title: Coming Out of the Closet
Author: Buddy
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Wesley/Angel & Wesley/Lilah
Summary: This is set directly after Wesley and Justine pull Angel from the bottom of the ocean in Deep Down and spans almost a week. Warning: This is not a fluffy story.
Disclaimer: The characters in this story remain the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, 20th Century Fox and related production companies. This is purely for entertainment; I make no monies from it.
Author's Notes: This is in answer to a (late) birthday request from rune_vampyr who wanted a Wesley/Angel pairing with Wesley, topping. It isn’t a song fic but the song listed below by Common Rotation influenced it heavily. Belated happy birthday Runie, love and smooches. Many thanks to twistedused (Jenni) who interrupted her own fic writing to beta this and get it back to me in time for the deadline.

Let's stop pretending
This is not a nerve ending
We've touched on before
Like a delicate dance floor
When what was once exciting
Has now gone out the window
Kicking and biting
Like a decrepit dog of war
Had his wits about him
Too determined to implore
Too deluded to ask for
The hand that let him out the front door

This side of the phone line
It's a reflex to rewind
When the context is a confine
No matter what you say
You're an answering machine

Well now you're in trouble
You believe you're seeing double
Those nightstand eyes and pillow fury
I hate to burst your bubble
But this humiliation it's cracked your skin
Timing frustration with a face-full of strain

While squinting at the poetry
And all the words in the night
Keeping the light off
The mirror where the pages lie

This side of the phone line
It's a reflex to rewind
When the context is a confine
No matter what you say
You're an answering machine

Stop flashing this madness
To the company of thunder
I hear the hissing sound of sadness
But remember I have your number

This side of the phone line
It's a reflex to rewind
When the context is a confine
No matter what you say
You're an answering machine

The smell of spent sex and expensive perfume lingered in the air and although Wesley noted its presence with no small degree of satisfaction, he soon dismissed it; the same things just weren’t important any more.

He waited, forcing his breathing to stay even and refused to look too often at the sweep of the minute hand around the clock face. It was a part of the game now and it added to the anticipation. He was already hard again and he wondered uneasily, just exactly who was being conditioned here.

He rested his head back against the headboard and closed his eyes, letting the days replay behind his lids. There had been no need to use cruelty against a creature in such a fragile state yet Wesley acknowledged that the hand he had held out instead was far from altruistic.

Over the course of the last six days it hadn’t been Lilah’s presence he’d found the most testing; fear of being caught or bested only added to the thrill but then last night Fred had arrived.

Learning to recognise body language had been a worthwhile and necessary lesson; at least if he couldn’t fight he knew when to run. Failure to spot the signs had proven to be as rich in misery as it had in pain. He’d rarely been quick enough to duck the punch, and at the Academy, he’d appreciated the fact that there were guys pretending to be his friend with
their sycophantic fawning attempts to get in with 'Head Boy'. But he’d never questioned too closely why he let them get away with it.

Schooling his features and avoiding nervous gestures around Fred was hardly taxing, given her scatter-brained nature. But the real dread that she would find out what he’d been up to meant he hadn’t been calm enough to prevent perspiration gathering in his armpits and running in a thin sheet down his back. She’d finally left the apartment when breathing
normally had started to become an issue for him and his voice had cracked at least twice.

Old throat injuries were a good cover for some things.

Wesley took a deep breath and didn’t look at the clock. He lay across the pillows and toed his watch off the nightstand. Maybe he could do this right. It wasn't noble or heroic but a genuine if twisted attempt to correct the cosmological disorder he’d created between him and Angel the day he'd taken Connor from him.

He thought Lilah might appreciate his methods but he doubted anyone else would see it his way.

He’d been given one chance to be the Golden Bollocks of the company and he’d blown it, trying to be everyman instead of staying loyal to the one he had mentored for so long. It was easy for him to dismiss his Watcher days, which were merely training for his real vocation but he still couldn’t stomach his ultimate failure. That he’d been caught clutching the trunk instead of riding in on the elephant.

Now it was different; bitterness and disappointment lent weight to his cynicism but he knew when he allowed deeply buried thoughts to creep in during the quietest hours of the night that it wasn’t Teflon coating.

Despite his nervousness, he had felt genuine if surprised pleasure to see Fred. But it had been easy to cover his emotions with scorn. Self-righteous indignation had kept his eyes away from the bedroom door but a tremulous bottom lip and mostly silent accusation had almost proven to be his undoing. It was Fred after all and she occupied the only part of his heart he believed to be still beating.

The rest of it felt as black and fragile as charcoal but he saved it anyway for the only one who had ever truly mattered.

He allowed himself to look now and almost ten minutes had passed since Lilah had left. Time enough for her to get to her car and drive away but there were never any guarantees that she wouldn’t come back. He got out of bed, pulled on his pants and thrust his hand into his pocket for the keys. Even when he wasn’t home he carried them with him; playing with them in between jobs was a pleasant distraction.

Angel was sitting on the floor, the chain that attached to his collar and the wall pulled tight. He
was naked except for a pair of boxer shorts and after only a cursory glance, Wesley could see that his skin had fully returned to its natural polished planes. He hadn’t appreciated before how human Angel had always seemed until he’d bathed him and dressed his wounds that first night. Spongy flesh and skin that had peeled off along with his clothes were nothing compared to the stench of rotting corpse. Wesley had left him in his bed that night and after vomiting so hard he thought he would rupture his insides, he’d collapsed on the couch with a blanket.

Where he’d spent a couple of miserable hours tossing and turning until Angel’s incoherent cries had dragged him back to his bedside. Wesley’s blood had accelerated his supernatural healing powers and it was hard to acquaint him with the stomach-churning spectacle that he’d fled from earlier. He hadn’t flinched when Angel’s hand had shot out and clutched weakly at his wrist.

‘Buffy?’

But he’d broken the tenuous hold when he’d stepped back in surprise. He’d hovered until Angel had turned over and curled into a ball and then without another thought slipped in behind him and spooned against him until he’d fallen once more into fitful sleep.

There hadn’t been many lucid moments since that first night and Wesley hadn't thought to question what Angel was thinking. He'd awoken to find Angel staring at him. It was hard to judge his expression in the dim lamplight but there was no mistaking the plea in his voice.

‘Where’s Cordelia?’

‘I don’t know yet.’

‘Connor?’

‘I don’t think he had anything to do with it. He was too busy sinking you to the bottom of the ocean when she disappeared.’

Angel had closed his eyes then and turned away.

‘It doesn't matter anyway, you’re not real; none of them are ever real.’

Angel scrambled to his knees and bowed his head the moment Wesley opened the door.

‘Angel.’

He looked up at the sound of Wesley’s voice; his face was impassive but his eyes held an anticipatory gleam. Wesley opened the padlock on the cage and slid aside aluminium bars that couldn’t hold Angel if he really chose to leave, any more than the collar that was fastened around his neck. He held is his hands behind him even though he wasn’t handcuffed any more, and waited for Wesley to free him.

Wesley couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when the sight of Angel bowed in supplication had made his mouth water instead of drying up like the inside of a nun’s knickers. It really didn’t matter; the reason was the same.

He stroked the outline of Angel’s bottom lip with his thumb. He watched in rapt fascination as Angel visibly forced himself to accept the caress without moving, his eyes averted and his hands by his sides. But this time Wesley didn’t want to play games. He didn’t know if he’d had long enough to achieve what he’d set out to accomplish but he knew he was running out of time. Someone would find out that Angel was back in LA.

The closet had been the perfect solution to the problem of where to hide him during Lilah’s visits and where to keep him if he had to work. Mercifully he hadn’t needed to use violence to get him in there. Unfortunately for Justine, pig’s blood wasn’t in the least bit tempting.

Wesley hadn’t used the gag since the fourth night; Angel’s cries and whimpers had stopped by then but Wesley wasn’t sure if that meant Angel knew his hallucinations were over, or if he’d simply given up and decided this latest one was one he could live with; at least there were rewards. He’d crawled into the closet willingly enough and looked at the floor whilst Wesley clicked his handcuffs in place.

Wesley had swung the closet door shut and locked it with only seconds to spare before Lilah’s hands were on him and mapping a different route over his body. He hadn’t realised the keys were still in his hand until Lilah had gasped in pain. Still, she hadn’t stopped him from trailing them slowly and sensuously over her throat and collarbone, then down over her belly to her pubis before dropping them on the floor. He’d been panting so hard that he almost missed her comment about his shiny new kink.

She had frozen for a moment when he’d entered her without bothering to use a rubber. After a couple of seconds she had melted again and if her returning thrusts had seemed more frenzied that night, Wesley had been too caught up in the image of Angel so close to them, bound and voluntarily silent, to really appreciate it.

Ditching the handcuffs had been a greater risk but Angel hadn’t tried to free himself from them since the day after Wesley and Justine had pulled him from the Ocean. They were the only things that had posed any real physical restraint until Wesley exchanged metal for blood.

He replaced his thumb with his index finger and pushed it roughly into Angel’s mouth. A spurt of saliva coated it and the stinging prick of fang tips was a punishable offence except this time they both knew it was Wesley’s fault.

‘Go and run the shower,’ Wesley said. ‘I’ll be there shortly.’

Yellow eyes flicked surreptitiously to the bandage on Wesley’s forearm; perhaps he expected punishment anyway. But he was on his feet and out the door before Wesley could comment. Wesley waited for the rattle of the front door chain and allowed himself a small smile of triumph when he heard the hiss of water from the bathroom.

Angel was leaning with his hands splayed against the tiles. Weight loss and lack of use had robbed his muscles of definition but Wesley’s eyes still roved hungrily over his torso. They followed the unimpeded flow of water from his shoulders down his back and over his ass cheeks, where it seemed to cling before caressing his thighs and calves on its way to the floor. He licked his lips and grabbed the soap from the hand basin. He ran it under the faucet and then rolling it in his hands until it lathered, he stepped into the shower stall behind Angel.

Angel stilled at Wesley’s maiden touch but relaxed with a sigh when he started to work his trapezius muscle, soaping across skin before ferreting out knots that he kneaded into submission. He hissed when Wesley slid soapy hands around to his chest and skimmed over nipples on the way down to his belly.

‘Wesley?’ His voice was hoarse and Wesley couldn’t tell if that was owing to the moment or lack of use.

‘Shush, you’ve barely spoken to me all week; no need to start now.’

Wesley’s hands felt like they were on fire and his fingers started to throb the closer he got to Angel’s cock. Before he could give into temptation he slid away over his waist and hips and then knelt down. He started on his feet and ankles, slowly washing and massaging his way up calves and thighs before reaching between his legs to his scrotum.

Wesley closed his eyes in rapture as he gently rolled Angel’s balls. He could feel the tremor that had started in Angel’s knees and reverberated through his thighs and hips. Teeth biting firmly into his bottom lip, Wesley ran one finger up the underside of Angel’s cock to his glans and then thumbed the slit.

He took a deep breath and was on his feet before he could check Angel’s response. He switched the shower off and stepped outside the stall then he grabbed a couple of towels and flung one across Angel’s shoulders. He turned and left the bathroom without looking at him.

By the time Angel walked cautiously into the bedroom, Wesley had dried off, put on his robe and laid clothes out on the bed for Angel. Angel stood before him and the towel slung carelessly around his hips failed to disguise his arousal. He looked at Wesley’s face uncertainly.

‘Get dressed Angel; it’s time to go.’

His eyes flicked from Wesley’s face to his wound again. ‘Did I do something wrong?’

‘Not at all. You’re much better now; you don’t need me any more.’

Angel hesitated and then took a step forward. He stopped, waiting for Wesley’s reaction. Wesley smiled at him and opened his arms. Angel stepped into them and while running his hands over Wesley’s back; he ghosted his lips against his jaw line. Wesley turned to capture them with his own, his toes curling into the carpet the moment he slipped his tongue past Angel’s lips. He deepened the kiss, clutching at Angel’s hair and forced his head closer to him.

Roughly he turned him round and pressed him forward against the dresser. Inflicting bites and raining kisses across his shoulders he toed Angel’s ankles until he parted them. He shrugged off his robe and opened the top drawer, grabbing lubricant that he’d bought only that morning. With a hand that was steady despite his excitement he spun the cap and palmed a generous amount. He coated his cock and then slid his fingers over Angel’s opening.

He stepped closer to him and held on to one hip. Sliding his erection slowly up the crack of Angel’s ass he reached round and loosely fisted his engorged member.

‘D’you like my hand on your cock Angel, hmm? How about my cock in your ass?’

He let go of his hip long enough to line up the crown of his cock with Angel’s pucker and then slowly pushed his way in.

Angel groaned and bucked forward into Wesley’s fist and then back against him. They both rocked their hips slowly until they found a workable rhythm. Wesley slid his arm up Angel’s belly and held onto his shoulder, holding him as close as possible, keeping all points of contact for as long as he could.

He’d waited for this for so long. He could hardly remember a time when this fantasy hadn’t plagued his waking hours and chased him out of dreams from which he’d awakened hard and trembling with need.

Angel contracted his inner muscles and Wesley thrust harder into him. He tossed him faster, running his thumb lightly around his cock ridge and dipping into his slit so he could gather and spread precum. The nerves at the base of his spine fluttered and pleasure started to build momentum. He thrust wildly and finally spilled inside him with a high pitch wail. He clamped down hard on Angel’s cock, still wanking him erratically through his orgasm and bit into his
shoulder when he felt cool wetness cover his hand.

Wesley missed Angel’s low moan because he was still suffering the effects of orgasm-induced deafness. But he caught him as he sagged against him and prevented the both of them careening over. He wrapped his arms around Angel’s waist and hugged him, his cheek still tight against his shoulder blade and ribcage when his cock softened and he slid out of him with regret.

Angel turned in Wesley’s arms and kissed him, slowly and deliberately before raising Wesley’s forearm to his lips. He licked across the puncture wounds and sucked on them experimentally.

‘Go ahead Angel; you’ve earned it.’

Angel smiled at him before he morphed and tightening his hold on Wesley’s arm he pulled his head to one side with the other hand.

‘Thanks Wes, but I had something more satisfying in mind.’

Then he buried his fangs in his throat.

Wesley thought he should scream; it hurt and he was frightened. Yet the more blood Angel pulled from his veins the less it seemed to matter. Blackness soon covered his vision and he was unconscious before he hit the bed.

Wesley spluttered as sugary drink was poured into his mouth. His throat was throbbing as well as parched and he held his breath so he could get moisture past his Adam’s apple. Angel had his arm around his shoulders and he was holding him almost upright. Wesley struggled for a moment until he realised it was pointless and he simply slumped against him waiting to see what was coming next.

‘Angel? ...Angelus?’

‘Both present and accounted for; don’t worry I didn’t lose my soul.’

‘I thought you were going to kill me,’ Wesley said.

‘Now why would I do that after everything you did for me? Besides this is more fun.’

He took his arm from around Wesley’s shoulders and stood up. He was dressed in the clothes that Wesley had put out for him.

‘What are you going to do now?’

Angel stepped forward and ran his hand gently over Wesley’s stubble. His expression was unfathomable and Wesley wondered if he could get to door quick enough to have a fighting chance of escape. Angel grabbed his chin.

‘Forget it Wesley. You’re not going anywhere.’

Wesley dropped his eyes from Angel’s face. His heart was trip-hammering in his chest and he wondered if it would be Lilah who found him. Angel sat beside him and leaned forward until their lips were within kissing distance. Wesley’s mouth twitched despite his fear and he closed his eyes when Angel parted his lips with his tongue.

Wesley relished the slip and slide of muscle against muscle. Angel’s lips moved against his hotly, and he slid his hands up into Wesley’s hair and deepened his pressure until he crushed flesh against teeth and bruised him. He pulled away just as it registered in Wesley’s mind that the blood he could taste was his own.

Wesley sighed and reached for him again but Angel evaded his touch and smiled at him on his way to the door.

‘You were right Wesley so I’m going to take your advice. It is time for me to go. I don’t need you any more.’