Spun glass by Criss Moody



Date: June 27th, 2001
Disclaimer: Numfar's Nightmare, not mine.
Otherwise, ask.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Angel/Wesley
Summary: A lazy morning with Angel and Wesley.
Notes: Lar wrote me a fic. ~whoo!~ I had an urge to write something along the same lines. So, I broke out my Angel/Wes muse and wrote. It's short.
Thanks: Rabbit for betaing and liking.
Improv #19: noble, damn, still, struggle

~~~~~

He looks so peaceful in the morning. Not a single care left on his mind as he transitions from sleep to mumbling in dead languages. The stress lines radiating around his eyes and mouth fall away and he's calm.

Angel loves this time.

The five or ten minutes between full sleep and half-awake where Wes loses completely the stillness of sleep and the struggle of the day and he grunts, squirms, and smiles his way into opening his eyes to Angel. And in Wes' gaze, Angel sees acceptance. Doesn't have to be anyone but an admittedly undead man, not so noble, who just woke up and wants to kiss his lover.

Their lips meet, dry from the night, and as always Angel draws back with a rueful smile. He likes the kissing, he likes the touching, he's not so fond of morning breath.

Love doesn't make up for that.

Soft, in the gray morning light, he kisses his lover's chest, humming against the warm resilience. Alive and warm and right there. No more perfect thing existed. Down to the flat stomach, rustles his lips through the light hair coating the muscles, wiry black strands appearing more frequently. Grins into the thicket of hair surrounding Wes' dick at the sound of the mortal sigh slipping out past those lean lips.

Angel gently kisses the quiescent column of flesh, delighting in the smell. Peppermint body wash from last night's shower and Wes smell. Clean and open. Tastes it all in one lick of the stirring muscle. In one swallow, takes the entire cock into his mouth, rests it on his tongue, and hums. Wes jerks, and even from his position, Angel can see the man smirk. Feels long fingers thread through his hair. The vampire suckles Wes' cock into hardness, bringing his fingers up and under Wes to pet and investigate. Rubs lightly on Wes' perineum, the oddly smooth flesh a tactile delight.

He hears Wes start to mutter, half-words and syllables coming through, "fu," "eme," and maybe even "damn." Plays past the perineum to the wrinkled hole, where muscles contract around air. He lightly presses fingers around and gently in, barely past a fingernail when with a sibilant sigh and clenching of fingers in hair, Wes comes. Angel swallows, warm rush of salty come feeling close enough to life for him.

Nuzzles his way back up to the blissed contentment on Wes' face. Angel places a light kiss on the half-open lips before settling in on his own pillow, head half on the pillow and half on Wes' shoulder.

"That was.nice."

Pretends indignation. "Nice? My blowjobs are.nice?" Starts to shift away from Wes when strong arms grab him back and put him where he belongs. Next to Wesley.

"Very nice? Quite nice? Or mind shattering?" Gray eyes turn to chocolate brown in question. "Any better? Or should I perhaps write," yawn, "an ode to them. Hmmm..a la William the Bloo.." Wes' eyes glint with perverse satisfaction as Angel's hand clamps over his mouth.

"One more word and I'm going to tell Cordelia you offered to take her shopping."

Brief glare before temporary surrender hits the gunmetal gray eyes. "All right then." Wes runs his hand down Angel's upper arm. "I suppose we should get up. Shower. Eat."

"It's Sunday."

"Well, then."

Angel sighs a small bleat of satisfaction as warm lips surround a peaked nipple. Closes his eyes and pictures repeating this scene over and over and over again. Wants to capture the moment up in spun glass form and keep it safe.

It's impossible, and he knows it. Monday will come, glass breaks, and Wesley is mortal.

But it's a lovely thought.


~end~