Risky Presents
The clock read 9:23. Gunn shut his eyes and counted to twenty. He listened, but he couldn't make out any telltale sounds of movement. Opening his eyes and staring at the ceiling, he studied the lines in the plaster. After an eternity mapping out the patterns, he checked the clock again. 9:27. On any other day he might've been happily sleeping in, but today drowsiness eluded him. He tossed and turned, trying a dozen different positions, but he couldn't doze off. He fluffed the pillow, and buried his head under it. The covers were twisted around him so he straightened them, before glancing at the clock. 9:31. He was sure the waiting was going to kill him. Damn England and damn Watchers who were well-versed in torture.
"Oww! Bloody hell!"
Gunn snickered at the crash and the exclamation coming from the hall. Finally. "Are you alright?"
Wesley stumbled into the bedroom, slightly disheveled, with one hand palm-up balancing a rectangular colorfully wrapped box, on top of which was placed a tray piled high with all of Gunn's favorite breakfast foods. His other thumb was in his mouth. "Perfectly fine." he mumbled around the wounded digit. "Just a paper cut."
"Wimp." Gunn smiled affectionately as Wesley set the box, with the tray on top, on his lap. He eyed them appreciatively and sampled the goodies.
"Wimp?" Wesley sat on the edge of the bed, mock-indignation coloring his words. "I'd like to see how you'd act with your flesh sliced open and your blood pooling on the floor."
Gunn's eyebrow lifted. "Your blood is pooling on the floor? Better call Angel and let him know breakfast is served."
Wesley glared and Gunn laughed. "Go ahead and laugh at my pain."
"I will." Gunn started picking at the corner of the box. "Let me fight the big bad present, teach it a lesson for hurting my lover." That coaxed a smile from Wesley and he set the tray on the bedside table. Gunn ripped the wrapping paper to shreds, and Wesley chuckled as he imagined the defenseless paper shrieking 'oh no, it hurts! Somebody save us!'. His wounded thumb ached and he reconsidered. Maybe not so defenseless. Gunn shook his head at Wes' spontaneous chuckling, and he held up the limited-edition collector's game of Risk. "You really love it when I kick your ass, don't you?"
Wesley shrugged. "Just a glutton for punishment, I guess."
Gunn set the board game on the floor next to the bed, and pulled his lover towards him. "I'll give you punishment." he said huskily, before pressing their lips together in a feverent kiss.
As they reluctantly broke to gasp in much-needed oxygen, Wesley murmured. "Yes, Master."
Gunn groaned and flipped them over in bed. He straddled Wes' thighs and pinned his wrists above his head. "Say that again."
"Master." Wesley smiled impishly.
Gunn kissed him, passion flooding over them as their bodies writhed in unison. Pausing briefly to refill on oxygen, Gunn nuzzled Wes' neck. "Thank you for the game."
Wesley wriggled, content. "Happy birthday, sweetheart."
"And many more to come." Gunn said mischievously, before nibbling on Wes' ear. "And come we will." he whispered seductively. Wesley moaned in agreement.