The characters belong to UPN and WB, the Kuzuis, Joss Whedon, David Greenwalt, Twentieth-Century Fox. NOT me. My only profit here is reader pleasure. Please don't archive or pass around without my permission.
All characters are above the age of consent, and you should be too if you're reading this.
I apologize for the slight delay, but my original chapter was deleted (the wonderful world of computers...). I hope you enjoy. I appreciate all the response to the first chapter (although the second didn't get as much), and hope you have more to say.
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Sipping at his weak coffee from a nearby convenience store, Wesley spied the Hyperion hotel, only a few blocks away. Another night with Angel, one of many over the past two weeks. Thankfully Gunn had been busy with his neighborhood gang and Cordelia was booking a commercial, which meant neither noticed the...closeness between Wesley and Angel. They tried, oh how they tried, not to smile at each other or let their hands accidentally brush against each other, but they were only human. Well, Wesley was.
Wesley decided against whistling a happy tune as he recalled how much he loathed people who did the same when he was in a miserable mood. Dropping the styrofoam cup into a nearby bin, he peacefully walked toward the hotel, the still-cool early spring air wafting inside his white dress shirt, teasing his nipples until they poked against the fabric. Hmm, Angel would know how to deal with this...
"Please! Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck..."
A sound from a side street, a masculine shape silhouetted in a dim street light. Just to be sure, Wesley had his stake at the ready. Walking up to the kneeling form, exiting footsteps echoed on the pavement as Wesley kneeled next to the profusely sweating man. Seeing no serious injury aside from an arm wound, Wesley lifted his muscular frame, a massive arm draped over Wesley's shoulders as he dragged them to the front door of the hotel. The form, muttering to himself, managed to walk small steps. A blessing for Wesley since he could certainly not carry him.
Stepping into the lobby, Wesley gently placed his new acquaintance on a nearby couch.
"Angel! Angel, come quickly!"
Waiting for Angel to arrive, Wesley adjusted his glasses, studying the victim, if he was a victim. Such a youthful face, but hard, cold brown eyes, eyes expressing the many torments of life his boyishly handsome features concealed. A tall frame, legs stretching over the end of the couch, toned arms covered by a brown shirt and camoflauge fatigues. Every few moments, he licked at the corners of his mouth, his hips thrusting upward in a most obscene fashion.
Wesley was engrossed by the unconscious movements, the juxtaposition of a youth and the carnal appetites of a man. So much so that he barely noticed Angel walking down the stairs, clad only in black slacks. Imagining a night of passion, a broad, sexy smile covered his handsome face.
"Ready for...what's he doing here?"
Jolted by the angry undertones towards the stranger, Wesley recited the brief events of the night as best he could. Finishing, he moved to the couch, staring at Angel as Angel stared at their visitor.
"Do you know this man?"
Angel snorted.
"Know him? This is Riley Finland, Iceland..."
"Finn."
Naturally, Wesley would know the name more than Angel would. Angel raised his eyebrows.
"Good memory."
"Yes, well the 2 dozen times I heard his name sharpened my retention skills."
Collegiate, government soldier Riley had dated Buffy after Angel left town. When Angel returned to town for a brief apology, Riley mistook him for mangling his grunt buddies and they fought bitterly. Their later sparring over Buffy nearly erupted into a second round, but Buffy stopped them. Last Angel had heard, Riley'd lost his job, become hooked on vampire suck jobs, got his job back, and left town after breaking Buffy's heart. He also knew he was the main reason Riley had descended into the vampire underworld. His insecurity at being a normal human, while Angel was anything but normal.
Angel had hated him for nearly a year. He wanted to continue hating him. But seeing his former rival writhing in his own private trance, sweat drenching his forehead and neck, staining his clothes, groping at his bulge as if he had no idea he was performing for an audience, twinges of pity and heat hit Angel at the same time.
Breaking away from the floor show, he noticed Wesley, and Wesley's body, had the same reaction.
"Books."
Rubbing the back of his neck and trying not to touch the growing lump in his trousers, Wesley jerked his head up after hearing Angel.
"Books? Ah...of course! I know just the tome."
While Wesley studied, Angel got the medcine chest, and a wet, slightly chilled dish towel from the kitchen. Kneeling at the edge of the couch near Riley's head, he lightly dabbed Riley's burning forehead with the cool compress. Working quickly, he unbuttoned Riley's fatigue jacket and pulled his soaked shirt above his head. After cleaning and treating the wound, his hands brushed over Riley's muscled pecs and rock-hard six-pack. Riley began twisting his head into the large hand placed behind his neck.
"F-Fuck meeee. Always want that big dick Angel, package mail me, just like Buffy got it, dreamed...Angel, Angel, sh...o me."
Ignoring the ramblings even as another wave of desire flushed over him, Angel cooed in a soft, calm voice.
"Shh. We're finding out what this is. Then you can go back to being the most boring man on the planet."
He couldn't help chuckling under his breath as he wiped a few beads of sweat from Riley's nose with the pads of his thumbs.
"Angel, really."
Wesley stood up from his desk chair, walking into the lobby with a dusty book in hand. Posture perfect, he carefully read every word aloud.
"Your friend Riley has been bitten by, as best to my knowledge, a Chmara demon. A relatively harmless demon in appearance who - as some joke of the gods I imagine - infects its victim with a curse of perpetual lust."
Smirking, Angel patted Riley's broad shoulders down.
"That's a bad thing?"
"When you can never be satisfied and your head explodes after 24 hours, yes, I would say that is a bad thing."
More serious now, Angel nodded, the warmth from Riley's body radiating into him.
"Any cure?"
Wesley sat on the other edge of the couch, reading and rereading a particular page before closing the book.
"One. The seed of the living and the dead. I suppose that I could supply the living, and you..."
Surprised, Angel fought back his third bout of lust, a tide growing stronger now that it was enhanced by arcane lore. Angel looked at the man lewdly sprawled out on the couch, nearly busting his zipper with a raging hardon, tracing his rough fingertips across Angel's toned stomach, boots long kicked to the floor as his toes groped at Wesley's crotch. Wesley kept his passive face on, whimpering silently as the large foot massaged his testicles.
"The dead." Whispered by Wesley.
Wesley had sweated through his shirt and Angel wanted to pinch and bite his pink nipples until he agreed to join in. Angel wanted to tear off his own slacks, wet and sticky from the layers of precum trapped between cloth and cock. Angel wanted to fuck his whitebread ass, split his soldier boy hole in two. He had no reason not to. He knew what he had to do.
"The dead. Then I guess this counts."
Standing up, he unzipped his pants, full, hard 10 inches smacking against his flat belly. He folded the pants and placed them in a chair a few feet away. Not wanting to be tempted by Angel's thick cannon, Wesley stared down at the drowning bulge in his trousers, being assaulted by Riley's heel at the moment, Wesley's manhood a trapped prisoner demanding freedom.
"Angel, we should fill a cup, or...this isn't right."
Locking eyes with Wesley, Angel reached for his hand, giving him the compress, his hand guiding Wesley's as the wet washcloth slid up, down, and around Riley's battle-honed, sweaty pectorals and nipples. Wesley had never met this man before a half-hour ago, yet he wanted to explore him as he had explored Angel. He wanted to fulfill his fantasies instead of hiding as always. Seeing Angel peeling away his dangling foreskin and rubbing the big pink head against Riley's puckering lips made the decision for him. Wesley swallowed, closing his eyes, placing his glasses on the kitchen table.
Angel flashed a seductive, controlled glance, both of their sets of hands unbuckling Riley's belt, lowering his pants, hooking fingers into his khaki briefs and giving an appreciative mutter to the thick 8 and 1/2 inches which smacked against their fingers, soaking them and his own belly with several spurts.
Angel tore off Wesley's belt and Wesley quickly tossed his pants and boxers in a corner, near his shoes and socks.
The two men could work as clockwork after their nights of passion and torture. Knowing automatically where Angel would insert his pride and joy, Wesley switched places with him. Angel gave him a glance loving enough to melt Wesley's insides before propping Riley's hind quarters on a few sofa cushions, rising his torso up. Carressing Riley's thighs, Angel gently stroked the delirious man's penis before diving between his sculpted cheeks, tongue-first.
Frozen for a moment, Wesley could only drink in the beauty of this boy-man before him, his sweaty mop of brown hair slick against Wesley's thigh. His body was perfect in every department, biceps straining against tight skin, arms leading into a chiseled chest, spreading downward into his hips and his jerking, heavy erection, rising proudly to salute Angel's rimming efforts. Slightly thicker than Angel's, full and fat. His powerful thighs and calves followed, leading down to his feet, now barefoot as Angel had removed his socks. He even had sexy feet. Wesley's penis leapt in appreciation.
Wesley sighed at the perfection of the man below him. A machine, Riley was a machine that could produce as much bliss as pain. He would never love this Riley as he loved Angel, but if his fellating skills were half as good as his body, there may be a serious competition looming.
On his knees at the very end of the cushion, Wesley placed Riley's head on a pillow, draping his British dong across Riley's all-American face, Riley greedily lapping at his crown, dipping into his slit with fervor as Wesley traced a map along Riley's rippling, heaving, tanned chest.
As Riley suckled Wesley, Angel removed his tongue from the steamy hole, Riley's wandering left foot almost hitting him in the head. Inhaling the slightly acrid scent, Angel sucked the toes into his mouth as he gathered the small drops leaking from his crown and lathered them all over the base. Removing the digits from his mouth, Angel stared at Wesley with pornographic eyes as he slammed his prepared cock home. Riley screamed around his fleshy meal without biting, much to Wesley's relief.
As Angel began thrusting into Riley's tight hole, Wesley envied Riley, remembering all the entries he had spread his legs for. His envy was diverted by Riley tearing the shirt off his back, attacking his nipples and going up and down on his flesh in an erotic harmony. Almost sweating and babbling incoherently as much as Riley, Wesley laid across the toned physique, taking his average-sized nuts into his mouth one at a time, then both, chewing on the flap of skin between them. Taking the animalistic sounds vibrating against his penis as a compliment, Wesley craned his head to take a long swipe at Riley's meat, then going down on the first few inches.
Angel's low-hangers slapped against the tight buns beneath him, a sound comparable to the slick squishing as he drove in and out of Riley's hole. He couldn't help having an elevated view of the threesome, seeing his lover 69ing with expert care, methodically inhaling inch after inch in that bad-boy-librarian way until he'd gone all the way down to the root. He gave the best head Angel had had in centuries, so for Riley, it must have been nirvana.
Riley constantly mumbled against Wesley's mouth, rumblings which sent him more over the edge every second. Doing his best to keep up with the pace, reaching out to play with Angel's chest, Angel letting out a gasp as his sensitive man-tits were prodded and pleasured. Angel stroked Wesley's hair, fucking hard and fast into their mutual partner as Wesley traced the purple veins decorating Riley's cock, each bump making Riley push himself further into Wesley.
Stillness filled Riley's mind increasingly, replacing the fear and blind panic of most of that day. He surrendered fully to the huge penis of a man he loathed, grunting and straining at the tool of power piledriving into him. A man he'd known for not even a day was sucking him off like a pro. He was returning the favor, licking up and down the slimy pink pole as his wild hands spread the unfamiliar cheeks, digging inside to hit that magic button, just the way fuck buddy Graham had taught him years ago.
When he felt the three fingers exploring his prostate, Wesley gave in, guttural sounds of pleasure bouncing off his mouthful of dick as he shot into Riley's warm, eager mouth. Riley let himself go next, hips surging upward one final time as he spewed load after load until the white goo trailed from the corners of Wesley's mouth.
Angel was next, the clamping and milking of his large penis enough to make him erupt. Dumping the final load of the healing semen, he then pulled out, staying on his feet long enough to smear his final few spurts onto Wesley and Riley's faces.
On autopilot, the two men licked the residue from each other's cheeks, noses, and lips, before falling into a deep tongue kiss. After several minutes, Riley pulled himself away from the addictive embrace, gasping for air. He tried to stare up at Angel but instead found himself gaping at Angel's flaccid horse cock.
"Um, guys...I have a LOT of questions."
Wesley pulled off the tatters of his shirt, then ran his other hand across Riley's rising and falling chest. Putting his glasses on, he straddled Riley's midsection.
"Then that makes three of us."
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Any suggestions for future chapters, comments, criticisisms, I'd appreciate any of it. Please get back to me.