Angel the Series belongs to WB, David Greenwalt, Joss Whedon, 20th Century Fox, and others. Please don't pass this story around without asking me. Don't read this if you aren't over the age of consent in your area.
I'm sorry for the delay. This is shorter than some of the other chapters and doesn't have as much sex, but you'll get more in the next few chapters . Please, please give me feedback, positive or negative. I really want to hear what you have to say.
00
A light fog wafted through the room. Riley tried to sit up, to get out of the bed, but none of his limbs worked. A tranquilizer dart? A drug?
"Stay still."
The voice soothed him, tingled the hairs on his bare, macho man legs.
"Angel."
The mattress adjusted to extra weight, Angel staring at him, hypnotizing him with those impenetrable brown eyes. Riley wanted to ask why he couldn't move, why he couldn't play, but his voice cowered in his throat.
Reality shifted and suddenly, expert fingers and that ice-tongue dampening his legs, pulling his knees apart to gently nip his inner thighs. Riley sighed, giving up all control, waiting, waiting...
A growl, a primitive, canine outburst echoed between his flanks, as Angel swerved past his cock, dug into his right upper thigh. A sharp bite, a jolt of energy coursing through his body, as he looked down and Angel was drinking his blood, his life, and smiling at him as he suckled and lapped at the small wound, Riley's cock smacking against Angel's cheek and growing larger and larger with each...oh holy God fuck...Angel was digging in deeper. Riley knew he would die, the way he wanted to, at Angel's mercy, Angel sucking him dry, an...
"Yo!"
Yanked out of his world, Riley jerked up boltright, a muted pumping sensation distracting him. Seeing a bald black man staring at him, he realized the man wasn't staring at his face, he was...
"Oh. God. I'm ejaculating."
Riley looked down at his gushing penis, coating the sheets, his stomach, his legs, his big leaky hose jerking wildly as he grabbed a pillow to cover himself.
As his erection finished convulsing beneath the fabric, Riley couldn't make direct eye contact with Gunn. He'd only heard of him second-hand.
Smiling sheepishly, Riley gathered up his courage extended a hand.
"Not the best introduction, I suppose. I'm Riley Finn."
Gunn grinned at him, perfect teeth shining, fighting back a bellyful of laughter.
"Damn, you white people sure know how to blush. Charles Gunn."
They shook hands, Riley carefully adjusting with the pillow so he wouldn't accidentally reveal his shrinking penis and dripping legs.
"So you're Gunn."
"Yeah. You heard about me, I heard about you. Gotta say I prefer this one-on-one meeting."
Riley matched Gunn's smile with a genuine smile of his own. Gunn's expressive brown eyes repeatedly darted to Riley's sculpted chest and arms, and the hint of pubic hairs peeking out from above the pillow. The half-blatant inspection turned Riley on more than he expected, and reminded Riley of someone he used to know. The men at Angel's Investigations were certainly a friendly bunch.
"I'll let you clean up. I'm sure we'll be gettin' to know each other better. If I can get to know you any better than I did a few minutes ago."
Gunn winked.
Redness creeping up his skin again, Riley nodded his head in thanks as Gunn left, shutting the door behind him. Sighing, Riley glanced down at the pillow sticking to his lap, and fell back on the bed, laughing until tears stained his cheeks, really laughing, for the first time in months.
--
A few hours later, Angel, clad in an untucked black shirt and painted-on leather pants, strode down the stairs. He was surprised that Wesley, who normally at least smiled when Angel arrived, didn't even bother to look down from his volume.
"Where is everyone?" he said in-between yawns.
"Cordelia has caught a 'bug', Gunn and your new friend Riley left early to check out a vampire nest."
Riley and vampires didn't mix well. Angel was concerned enough about Riley's attachment to him, an attachment he'd encouraged.
"Riley? You let Riley go?"
Wesley sighed into the dusty pages below him.
"I had no idea dear Mr. Finn was so fragile. Of course, I don't understand him as well as...you do."
The tones of hostility seeped from Wesley's voice very clearly. Cleaning his glasses, he fought back a flinch when Angel touched his hand.
"Wes, what's happened?"
Angel ran his rough fingers over Wesley's soft palms.
"I am a realist and proud to be a realist. I see what Riley means to you, means to this firm, means to us."
Without thinking, Angel laughed, smiled broadly.
"You're jealous."
Wesley slammed the book shut and jerked his hand away, startling Angel.
"I am not jealous. I overheard your claims that he and you understand each other truly. Apparently that is the case, since I am now being patronized and insulted."
Angel moved closer to Wesley again, wanting to touch him, hug him into realizing how much he needed him.
"Wait, I-I..."
Wesley stepped back, withdrawing in himself, body language forcing Angel to stay away.
"Did you say those words or not?"
Angel refused to break their eye contact, staring deep into Wesley's grey, slitted eyes.
"Yes. Riley and I do understand each other, because of B..."
"Don't say her name."
Even though he wanted to be fair, be understanding, Buffy was his sore spot, his fairy tale romance ruined forever. His connection to her was his sanity, no matter how far apart they were.
"Buffy! I will say her name in my own home if I fucking well want to! I thought we'd gotten past this Wesley. I thought we knew each other."
Wesley bit at his lip, swallowing a lump of sorrow.
"No, I knew you. I've loved you since long before you ever acknowledged my existence. First I was this awful replacement for Doyle. Then I was unworthy of being a confidant, a friend. Then, you claim you love me, you need me, only to welcome in the first Buffy souvenir you can find. We know almost nothing about Riley, his life, and yet you open your arms for him immediately, as he opened his legs for you. Why am I not enough?"
Angel's stare turned hard, cold, the words as dead as Angel himself.
"You didn't have a problem with Riley when he was sucking your cock."
Wesley froze, surprised by the bitterness, even though he knew he shouldn't be.
"True, true. My mistake was in assuming that if you refused to save your body for me, you would at least save your heart. That since I have always put you first, you would do the same for me. Sadly, that is not the case. Goodbye."
Wesley was out the front door before Angel could catch up to him. Angel wanted to follow him, to reason with him, but dammit, he had shown his love to Wesley many times. Wesley bringing up Buffy and especially Doyle hurt Angel so badly, in ways few people could hurt him. Besides, Riley needed him. If Wesley couldn't see the difference between need and love, then maybe he was the one with the problem.
Wesley leaned against an alleyway, back aching against the cold, hard bricks. He had justifiable complaints, but this could be fixed. He loved Angel. He always would. He simply needed to go back in and...
A rag over his face.
"MMMMPPHHH"
Wesley struggled, kicking and punching at a figure behind him as the chloroform filled his breathing space. The hand which had taken him off balance continued to clamp to his mouth and nose, as the other hand obscenely groped at Wesley's crotch, stroking and tracing through the trouser lining. The rough fondling made Wesley gasp, breathing in the fumes more deeply. Finally, Wesley's arms and legs grew limp as he surrendered to sleep.
The man responsible observed the crumpled, unconscious heap in his arms, and grinned.
"Now the fun begins."