[Gunnwesley] Fic: Kungai Part Five 10/20 (Wesley/Gunn, NC17)

[helenraven]

Title: Kungai Part Five 10/20

Author: Helen Raven

Email: helenraven at talk21.com

Pairing: Wesley/Gunn

Summary: The full history of the relationship between
Gunn and Wesley in the Birthdayverse. A novel in six
parts.

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: Not mine, not for profit, not even a blip
on the litigation radar.

The Story's Home Page: http://www.kelper.co.uk/kungai

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Wesley said the vision hadn't hit Angel particularly
hard - not like the first vision he'd had after he
started to become lucid again - but to watch Angel
you'd think his mind had been thrown in a blender.
Even Angelus was having hallucinations: of being
surrounded by willing victims, and he had moments of
seeming genuinely confused about how to deal with
them.

They still hadn't been able to feed Angel by the time
they went to bed on Sunday night. Gunn was woken
around two by the sound of Wesley moaning in one of
his bad dreams. Gunn decided not to wake Wesley up but
to wait for five minutes, see if the dream played
itself out, and while he was waiting Angel started up
too, yelling something about, "No, no, you don't do
that! You don't make me," and then he was banging on
the wall by the door. Could take an hour for that to
stop, so Wes could moan twice as loud now about being
locked away, he still wouldn't be the one keeping Gunn
awake.

And then Angel screamed, in real, shocked pain, and
there was a crackling sound before the scream that
couldn't have been made by Angel's lungs or his fists,
a sound that was wrong. Gunn leapt out of bed and ran
into the living room, grabbing his robe on the way.
Angel wasn't on the screen. "Angel! Get away from the
door. Go over and stand by your mattress." Angel
didn't move. Gunn could hear his gasping breath, right
by the door.

"What's happening? What's he doing?" Wesley had just
come out of the bedroom.

"Think he's burned himself. Sounded bad. Like he's...
I guess he thinks there's guards in with him, like to
hold him against the door. I told him to get back but
he's just standin' there."

"Angel. Can you hear me? You should go and lie down.
It's late. You should try to sleep."

More breathing, then slow scraping noises against the
wall, and finally, a muttering. "It doesn't - He'll
pretend. They pretend. He won't - It won't stop. Just
in here." Then he shouted, "You stop!" and he seemed
to throw himself against the door. He held himself
there, screaming, through the time it took Wesley to
slide both bolts and yell at Gunn to get the net and
the pikes and the chains and then Angel staggered back
and fell to the ground.

"What we gonna do?" Wesley was waiting with the key in
the lock, crossbow slung over his shoulder.

"Chain him between the plates. If we can get him over
there. Otherwise... just chain him. We might have to
wrap him in a blanket if we can't stop him crawling
back to the door."

" 'n' if it's Angelus?"

"You go in with the net. I'll cover you. He won't get
out."

Angel was slowly getting to his feet, giving small
grunts of pain and effort. Wesley made ready to open
the door and whispered, "Now. While he's off-balance."
Gunn kicked the door open, which knocked Angel
sprawling, threw the net over him then backed off
nearly to the door to give Wesley a clear line and to
size up what they were dealing with.

They were dealing with Angel naked, and if there was a
break in the line of burns that stretched between his
collarbones and his thighs, well, Gunn couldn't see
it. He'd burned both sides of his face, the right much
worse than the left, and Gunn guessed that the left
had been the first scream.

Angel's cock... with the rough twine of the net lying
across it, a knot, two knots. If Angel tried to get
up, pulled the net taut... "Holy Christ." Gunn
breathed the words, trying not to imagine, and feeling
the skin over half his body shiver and twist like it
wanted to hide inside his bones. The guards had done
this to Angel in hell. They must have. Even made him
do it to himself, take his own clothes off? Which
would mean that they'd had a threat of something
worse.

Angel wasn't trying to get up, he wasn't struggling
against the net; but he wasn't lying rigid, trying not
to move because of the pain. Instead he seemed...
Relaxed couldn't be right. Relieved? Like he knew it
was over now, nothing more the guards could do to him.
So he must know Wesley, even this deep in hell.

Wesley had come into the room, keeping the crossbow
trained on Angel's chest, and now he was standing a
few feet from Angel's head, just past the edge of the
net. Angel had turned his head slightly towards
Wesley, but not to look at him - couldn't seem to look
away from the open doorway. Ideas about escaping? Or
was this another part of his hallucination: watching
the guards leave?

"What do you think, Charles? I think we still need to
chain him unless we want to stand watch over him all
night. But you'd be the one who'd have to take the net
off and get in range of him. What do you think of the
risk?"

Gunn shrugged and took a step towards Angel. "Angel?
How you doin' with those burns? You know you're safe
now, don't you? It's over."

No sign that Angel was hearing Gunn, but then he gave
a long sigh and closed his eyes. Relief. Yeah, it was
relief.

"That risk's OK. But we gotta get him between the
plates. Stop him gettin' back to the door, like you
said. No way I'm wrappin' a blanket round those burns,
not a sheet, nothin'."

Wesley nodded. "So how do we move him? I don't think
-" In a different voice: "Angel, can you stand up? I
know it will hurt but Charles will help you. We need
you to move so we can take proper care of you."
Nothing. Wesley pulled a face and said, "I suppose
we'll have to put a chain around his neck and drag
him."

"Yeah. I'll bring everything in. Get it ready first."
Being out in the living-room gave Gunn another idea,
but he didn't say anything about it until he'd
finished setting up the chains. "I just thought... If
he's not nauseous from the pain, he might be hungry
enough that he'd follow me across to get fed."

Gunn couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Wesley
so relieved. When Lilah Morgan had called about the
apartment, maybe. Or when Gunn had started finding
them clients.

Angel was hungry, and the smell of the blood reached
him, when he couldn't even seem to hear his own name.
Still a very tough few minutes, though: trying to stop
him from hurting himself against the net; expecting
the worst with every movement, for the pain to turn
him savage. His hands were raw and blistered so Wesley
held the beaker for him while he drank, and that was
when Gunn fitted the chains to his neck, wrists and
ankles, leaving enough slack between his wrists that
he'd be able to lie easily on his back.

"It stopped. I made it stop. I can. In here." A pause
in his drinking, near the end. He did seem to be
speaking to Wesley.

"Yes. It stopped. I think you've learned how to make
it stop."

Angel's clothes were in a pile in the corner by the
door, where he must have been standing when he was
banging on the wall. Wesley gathered them up and put
them in the laundry basket while Gunn was folding the
net.

Angel didn't like it when they left and closed the
door, was complaining hard before Wesley had finished
washing the beaker. "No. It has to be in here. With
me. I can make it stop."

Gunn thought they should leave Angel alone, at least
give him a chance to settle down, but he didn't argue
hard when Wesley wanted to go back in and sit with him
for a while. Angel was lying there with seeping burns
on his cock, for Christ's sake. And he'd been
incredibly tough about all that, not one sign of
feeling sorry for himself. So whatever was bothering
him now, yeah, he deserved some attention, even Wesley
stroking his hair. Gunn watched the screen from the
kitchen while he was waiting for the kettle to boil
for tea, wondering how many hours it would be before
Angel would let Wesley leave.

It turned out to be less than ten minutes. Gunn had
just decided that he would go back to bed, that Wesley
would be safe even if he fell asleep in there, when
Wesley came out with his tea not even started, saying
that Angel had fallen asleep very suddenly, might even
have switched off.

Gunn wanted to be held: he wanted help in calming
himself down after seeing those burns and hearing
those screams. He could ask Wesley, Wesley probably
wouldn't say no. But he might say "not as a lover". Or
something worse, something even more fucked up. And
God knows what state Gunn would find him in the next
morning. So he thought of Alonna, like she'd been
three or fours years ago. Imagined telling her what
he'd just been through with Angel. And her going,
"Woah!" and "You mean he was -?" and then "Oh,
Charles, you must be..." and hugging him and hugging
him, like she needed it too, just from hearing the
story.

That helped, did give him some of what he needed. Made
him miss her, remember how they'd been able to tell
each other everything - until the vamps had moved in.
Strange sort of comfort, to be remembering all that.
And how long had it been since he'd done any serious
thinking about anything except Wesley and Angel?

"Helluva way to wake up, eh, Wes? Come out of a
nightmare and find him like that. He's just beat my
worst ever dream."

"You were having a nightmare?" Wesley sounded
concerned, was raising himself up to look at Gunn,
though he wouldn't see much in this light.

"No. You were. Something about being locked in
somewhere, I think. Y'don't remember any of it?"

Wesley slumped back down. "I must have woken you up.
I'm sorry."

Gunn shrugged. "Wouldn't have lasted long. Sounded
like one of your short ones. I'da been asleep again in
half an hour."

A pause. "Could I have woken Angel too? Was I making
that much noise.?"

"Man. Who knows what he hears? What he sees, even.
Don't wanna know, anyone's offerin' me a choice."

Angel was in hell for all of Monday. Gunn gagged him
on Monday night before they went to bed, because he
knew from what they'd heard during the day that he and
Wesley could forget about sleeping if Angelus
appeared. The burns had healed a lot - maybe ten times
faster than with a human - but they were still
frightening. Gunn put thick gauze between Angel's face
and the gag, and he was as gentle as he knew how to
be, with Wesley holding up Angel's head and making his
soothing noises. They didn't speak to one another as
they were getting ready for bed, didn't meet each
other's eyes, but when they'd been in bed for about
ten minutes, both on their backs the same as Angel,
Wesley's hand moved to cover Gunn's hand - just a
faint pressure through the bedding - and Wesley said,
"We had to do it, Charles. The burns will be healed by
the morning. And he'll forget it all just as quickly."

"Yeah. Just wishin' I could forget."

Angel was lying quietly when they got up the next
morning, awake but not cringing. Possibly lucid,
definitely able to be fed, and Gunn went in to remove
the gag while Wesley heated the blood. Now Angel just
looked like he had bad sunburn plus maybe an allergy
to a soap or something. The gauze lifted away
smoothly, no sticking or snagging.

"Thank you."

Gunn nodded. "Good to see you're OK. Don't wanna do
that again, someone with those burns."

"What did he do? Did he try to escape?" Angelus. He
thought it was all punishment for Angelus.

"Looked like that. He didn't get far."

Gunn started unlocking the chains, taking the neck
first, and he was dealing with Angel's hands when
Wesley arrived with the blood. Gunn was kneeling with
his back to the door and had all his attention on
reaching over Angel to free his left hand, but he knew
the moment that Wesley came into Angel's field of
view, because Angel gasped and the next second Gunn
felt something cold and hard pressing against his
forearm, and that was Angel's cock. Gunn gasped
himself and dropped the keys as he jerked back; the
keys landed on Angel's stomach, just above his navel.

"What's - Oh." Wesley had seen and was blushing, and
Angel was rolling onto his side to hide against the
wall. The keys slid onto the floor but Gunn was over
the shock of that touch now, and he reached in, found
the keys, then unlocked Angel's left hand by feel.

"Nothing to worry about, Angel. Y'know we've seen it
all before. More you help me with this, quicker we can
get out and leave you alone." Angel didn't roll back,
but he did let Gunn have his right arm.

Wesley put the beaker down on the floor. "I'll get you
some clothes, Angel." He came back when Gunn was
gathering up the chains, and he'd brought Gunn's robe
as well as a change of clothes. "This might be easier
on your skin. Just for today. Call when you want us to
take away the beaker."

Wesley turned off the screen then made coffee while
Gunn was putting the chains away. "I'm sorry about
your robe. I just got the idea and then..." A shrug.
"I knew yours would fit him."

"No problem." Not really true, but his problem wasn't
with Wesley, and he'd deal with it smooth enough.
Angel wearing his robe, jerking off and thinking the
horniest, red-haze thoughts about Wesley the way he
looked right now: six-days growth of beard, and
needing a haircut, and the bad sleep showing in his
face, and those clothes that looked like they'd never
been new. Gunn envied Angel for that instant reaction
he'd have had himself a month ago. Envied Angel for
having no idea how much it hurt these days, to be in
love with Wesley, and for being someone that Wesley
would bother to pretend with, to try to be normal
with. Angel was in there wearing Gunn's robe, maybe
thinking he'd do better for Wesley than Gunn, that
Wesley just needed to sleep.

When Gunn came back that evening from a couple of
hours of legwork, he found Wesley in with Angel,
reading, and learned that his robe was drying
downstairs. The next morning, Wesley got a haircut for
his meeting with Lilah Morgan, and on Thursday, while
Gunn was at the beach-house with Matt and Grouw,
Wesley started reading again, properly: one of Angel's
books, some deadly-looking European history thing.
Gunn, personally, would rather stare at the wallpaper
but Wesley was reading on the couch, and not even with
a notepad near to pretend he was reading for work.

By the next week, he was asking real questions about
Gunn's cases, not just his schedule for the day but
more and more details and soon he was making
suggestions, though always like he was asking Gunn's
opinion, getting clear on something Gunn had just
said, and Gunn worked his ass off to play along, act
like Wes was some clueless civilian who didn't even
realise these clients of Gunn's were demons. The
hardest part for Gunn was keeping the affectionate
smile off his face and stopping himself from going
over and kissing Wesley. It felt like flirting, all
the hints and sighs, the thing between them that they
wouldn't name, had agreed not even to look at, all
their attention focused on steering each other close
enough that they could feel it brush against their
clothes. And Wesley was so good at this, he took it so
seriously.

Gunn kept the smile off his face mostly by making a
list in his mind of that day's evidence that Wesley
still had a long way to go. He still slammed shut
after training with the crew, he'd been buying more of
those damn thrift-shop clothes, but the surest thing
every day was the dreams, which were getting more and
more violent. Gunn hadn't taken any damage yet, not
with the layers of bedding between them, but he'd
started sleeping with his back towards Wesley because
his face had been feeling very exposed.

The dreams were usually short and Gunn couldn't tell
much about what was happening. Wesley fought back in
about half (with grunts and snarls, but no words), and
in the others he was trying to escape, sometimes from
Angel (or with Angel?), and Gunn thought that some of
the dreams were about being in Angel's chains, and
some of the screams were about burning. The rest must
be from Wesley's past, or from nowhere. The times he
shouted, "You know it's rape," Gunn knew he was back
as far as that school (but finally angry about it, and
Gunn thought, "I taught him that."). His dreams about
Gunn came from nowhere and were almost peaceful, never
above a moan ("No, Charles. You don't want to hurt me.
It's wrong. Stop. You can't." And the Gunn in Wesley's
dream always did stop.).

Wesley said what he always said now: that he didn't
know he was having nightmares. Even when he fell off
the bed trying to escape, he said he didn't remember
anything, had no idea why he'd woken up with his heart
pounding. Gunn described some of the most violent
dreams (not the rape, not the ones with him in them),
but Wesley just shrugged and said it sounded like a
vision, and offered to sleep on the couch.

"No. Ain't that bad. Not every night." A lie, like
Wesley was lying about not remembering. Would be good,
to sleep right through the night. But if he let Wesley
go to the couch, when would he ever get him back?

* * * * *



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