The Art Of Deception
The two men regarded each other in stony silence. The bristles that had adorned Wesley's chin for the last 7 months or so added to his air of hardened darkness, equalled only by Angel's sunken brow and pitch-black stare. The familiar discomfort that had built up between them ever since that fateful day when Wesley made the worst decision of his life still hung as ripe as ever, and the tension and hostility were becoming unbearable for the other inhabitants of the office.
Nobody wanted to back down. No one could remember the last time they had all been functional. Angel's blood-starved hallucination of them sitting down to a happy meal was about as likely to happen as Gunn showing up to work in a tutu. But then, this being LA, anything was possible.
There was no going back now. The whole office knew that Angel and Wesley would never be friends again. That part of their lives was over. Each man had tried to apologise to the other, or somehow make things right in his own proud way, but to no avail. Things were truly never ever going to be the same as they once had been. And gradually, difficult though it was, the others were accepting this. Awkward situations arose and they dealt with them. Usually by leaving.
"Have they gone?" Wesley's clipped tone still betrayed his starched British upbringing somewhere beneath his rough exterior. His piercing stare never left Angel's own.
"Cordelia left the office about 10 minutes ago. She was the last." The tall vampire shifted his stance from leaning back, perching on the desk, to an upright position, ready for the inevitable consequence of his words.
"Good. Then we can get on with it." Wesley took a step towards the slightly taller man, whipping a stake from his sleeve as he did so.
"Ready when you are."
Angel made the first move, snatching the stake away from the Englishman's grasp and throwing it to the corner. In turn, Wesley grabbed the vampire's wrist and slammed it down hard on the table. Angel could have resisted, but he didn't. Their bodies, now thrust dangerously close together, held rigid for a moment as they looked into each other's eyes. The younger man's breathing and body heat provided stark contrast to the other's cold stillness.
Together, they fell back against the desk, and in a continuous movement, Wesley pressed his body to Angel's as their lips met roughly. The Englishman brought his free hand up to grab forcefully at the back of his ex-colleague's head, meshing them closer together with a raw passion. Items scattered off the back of the rumbling desk behind them, as Wesley exerted his pseudo-dominance by forcing them further backwards.
Abruptly, the vampire got a hand to the other man's chest, forcing them apart slightly and breaking the contact between their swollen lips. He ripped at Wesley's shirt, tearing it apart to expose the firm and pounding chest below. Given the room to speak again, Wesley took to opportunity to express his desire.
"God... you have no idea what it's like. Trying to pretend I want to be with that bitch, who obviously still has a thing for you... when all I want to be doing is ripping your clothes off. You don't know how..." he reached down to cup Angel's prominent crotch, eliciting a low moan from the vampire, "...hard it is."
Briefly, the image of himself chained to a wall whilst Lilah stood possessively over Wesley, torturing implements in hand, flashed though Angel's mind. It wasn't doing anything to reduce the flow of cold blood to his groin.
"You're right, I have no idea what that feels like" he mumbled, throwing the now emancipated shirt to the floor and pulling the other man in for yet another searing kiss.
Wesley's arms encircled the vampire's waist, rising up over his bare back underneath his sweatshirt and pulling it up with them. As he reached the top of the muscular man's broad shoulders, they were forced to break apart again so as to remove the article. Both bare-chested now, their hands seemed to be drawn to each other's torsos. Angel raked his hands through the short dark hair adorning the smaller man's chest, as Wesley basked in the smoothness of the vampire's cool skin.
Angel's legs spread slowly, his weight now entirely on the desk beneath him as he accommodated Wesley's hips. Every so often, the straining bulges in their pants would grind together, causing even Angel to gasp with a breath he didn't need.
Soon, the lust-fuelled need the two men both felt became unbearable, and they simultaneously began to fumble with each other's belts. Neither of them knew for certain exactly when someone else could walk in ö a customer, one of the gang, or even Lilah ö which was part of the thrill that increased their passion. This little affair had been going on for a good few months now, and the familiar adrenaline that incensed their desire was still as ripe as ever. It was shocking they had gotten away for it for so long, really.
They couldn't remember how it started. Maybe Wesley had made the first move, maybe Angel. They didn't know how long it had been building. Maybe it had always been there. But as the Englishman pushed the vampire down on to the desk, deftly freeing the other man's engorged cock from his pants, he knew it didn't matter. It was, as always, something they both craved as a vampire craves blood.
Wesley's warm fingers closed tightly around the cool shaft, rock solid but inert, and he was once again intrigued by the lack of a pulse beating below the soft skin. Not like his own throbbing need, now exposed and pressing hard against Angel's lower torso.
Rubbing himself against the rippling muscles pushed against the most sensitive part of his anatomy, he mirrored this rhythm with his hand on the other man's erection. Angel was forced to lean further back on the desk, supporting his weight on his hands behind him. With a thrust of his hips, Wesley had the two of them horizontal on top of it, and he climbed over the larger man to reach the top drawer. As he delved into it, knowing exactly what he was searching for (and familiarity reassuring him that he would find it), he took Angel's cool tongue into his mouth once again.
Having found what he was looking for, he dropped back onto his feet. Angel kept his eyes closed a moment longer, and Wesley took a step back for a second to survey the situation. The dark vampire, flat on his back, legs spread wide and straining cock sticking up at an angle, aching for his fingers to find their way back to it. Quickly, Wesley took the lube to his own shaft, unable to hold back any longer. Angel's eyes fluttered open to regard him seductively as the Englishman stroked himself, the vampire widening his legs a little more by way of invitation.
Wesley always wanted to go gently. Somewhere buried in his recently enshrouded nature, there was a tender lover longing to slowly caress and soothe another, to softly make love. But that aspect of his personality was long repressed, and he supposed that even if it wasn't, a frenzy of sexual excitement would have overcome him at the prospect of taking the tantalising vampire.
Swelling with lust, he thrust forward, using his right hand to guide himself to his target whilst he steadied himself with his left hand on the smooth cool surface of Angel's chest. He felt the vampire's pectoral muscles flex as other muscles relaxed, allowing him intimate access to his former boss.
Adjusting their position by raising his hips, Angel took the whole of Wesley's length inside of him. The Englishman's fingertips toyed with a sensitive nipple as he started to rock back and forth with a steady rhythm, leaning forward just enough that every time he thrust in, his taught abdomen would brush against the head of the vampire's aching cock. Urgently, Angel grasped the warm hand that rested on his chest and guided it back to where he needed it. The instant he felt the heated pressure on the moist tip of his hard member, he knew it wouldn't be long. The muscles at the sides of Wesley's jaw, which were barely visible through the thick stubble, flexed in time with the rhythm of their movements, as the blood flowed to his cheeks, darkening his complexion under a sheen of sweat.
As Wesley's ministrations and pumping sped up, the smaller man's free hand grasped at Angel's clenched buttock, his fingernails digging in slightly as together they reached their climax. The vampire felt himself filled with a warm influx of fluid, and the Englishman's stomach and chest were sprayed with a jet of cold seed. The two men shuddered together a few times as each of them let out a slight grunt, before Wesley eased himself out of the tight channel.
Reaching for the tissues, he quickly took care of the sticky situation that had arisen on his torso. As was their odd tradition at this point, neither man spoke or made eye contact whilst they cleaned themselves off and reassembled their clothes. Once the pair had successfully finished making themselves look decent and presentable, they regarded each other evenly, slipping back into the familiar rising discomfort their friends had grown to accept.
Wesley often wanted to shake hands at this point, the irrepressible polite English custom that he had been brought up rising to the surface as a routine reaction to an absurd situation. It always seemed so strange, the way they could experience something as powerful and intense as that together, and then never say a word. Until the next time. The only time they ever admitted to one another what was going on was in a few heated pre-coital utterances that constituted foreplay in this twisted affair. Quietly, they exchanged a small nod, and as Wesley turned to exit, he heard the vampire picking up artefacts and arranging them back on the desk. He pushed his hands deep into his pockets, the fingers of his left hand closing around a small object.
He had to resist the urge to smile.
The Englishman entered his apartment quietly and unobtrusively, shutting the door behind him with a click. He knew she would be waiting anyway.
"Have fun?" Lilah asked, her eyebrow raised in patronising amusement as she spoke the double-edged greeting.
"I got the job done." He replied, stepping towards her with a cold arrogance.
"Ooh let me see, let me see!" the lawyer enthused with mock eagerness, thrusting her hand into his left hand pocket and retrieving the small talisman as he regarded her with a static intrigue. She turned the bronze object over in her hand, examining it with care. "It was where you thought it would be?"
"Top drawer of his desk. It's what we want?" Wesley's voice was still low and husky, but emotionless. Lilah smirked.
"It's what I want, Wes. I think you already got what you want." The Englishman raised an eyebrow sardonically. "Oh come on. You're seriously telling me it doesn't do anything for you?" her tone grew increasingly sultry and seductive, but he knew the only intent behind it was mockery. "A big dark handsome man, holding you in his strong arms, his love muscle thrusting away inside of your tight little British arse?" She emphasised the unfamiliar final word, knowing she had already pushed the right buttons. Without a word, he picked her up roughly and carried her through to the bed, throwing her down and climbing on top of her, all his weight pressed down on her suit clad form.
"How many more times, Lilah?" he asked, leaning down close enough to her for her to smell the vampire on his breath. "I'm always the one on top."