[Gunnwesley] Fic: Kungai Part Five 13/20 (Wesley/Gunn, NC17)

[helenraven]

Title: Kungai Part Five 13/20

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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They used the bathroom together in the morning, and
then dressed together. They didn't touch, and Gunn
didn't even offer to help Wesley with the long-sleeved
top, though he watched every moment - but Gunn felt
almost as relieved and happy as he had the very first
morning they'd woken up together. Being close to
Wesley; so simple, but this was how much he needed it.

Angel was in hell, trying to hide in the gap between
the mattress and the wall, and while they were having
breakfast Angel started pulling the mattress over
himself, working slowly like it was took him minutes
to build up each inch of fear (or courage). Still, he
was completely hidden by the time Gunn took the blood
out of the refrigerator then nodded towards their
bedroom. "Like you went last night, Wes. Close the
door." He still didn't want them to have any chance to
see each other. If they'd had anything like normal
lives then Gunn would have thrown Angel out. Broken
some furniture and spilled some blood 'cos they'd both
have needed to fight, and then he'd've thrown him out.
But they had this life and Gunn was making it up from
moment to moment: what had to change now that Gunn had
found them out.

Angel was trembling. If you were sick enough you could
see it all as funny: the way the mattress was
trembling; a vampire terrified of the sound of two
humans talking over breakfast.

Kindest thing would be to let him go hungry until he
got lucid, just leave him alone. Gunn didn't feel
kind. He put down the beaker, grabbed hold of the
handles on the side of the mattress, and pulled hard.
The mattress landed on the floor with a thud, leaving
Angel lying on his back. He seemed frozen at first,
just staring at Gunn, then there was a rattling,
frantic retreat to the safety of the wall.

This Angel didn't know Wesley. If you said to this
Angel, "I found out last night that you raped my
boyfriend," he'd think it was a trick, some twisted
excuse for a new form of torture. "And you treated it
like a joke." Or he'd think you meant Angelus, and
he'd be guilty and ashamed, and he'd take whatever
came as fair. Because Angel knew as well as Gunn did
that Angelus wasn't some random stranger; Angelus and
him, they were made out of the same stuff.

"Are you a monster?" Gunn was expecting Angel to start
trembling again, but instead Angel frowned and stared
at him in a different way, like he was trying to
remember something about him. "Are you? Say it." Angel
never spoke to them when he was in hell, he just spoke
to himself - but Gunn wanted to get something out of
him, even if it wasn't words.

A whisper: "Yes." Then he swallowed, and summoned his
whole voice. "Yes."

"Do you deserve this?"

"Yes. I deserve it."

"Am I as bad as you?"

Angel looked away, towards the door. More frowning,
then he met Gunn's eyes again and said slowly, "I
don't know. I don't know where you learned to enjoy
it. Who you - If it's only for me then you're no worse
than despicable."

He sounded like Wesley. And that had come straight
from one of their rapes, hadn't it? Evidence as clear
as the bruises. They'd fought and they'd cursed each
other, and through it all they'd be snarling or
moaning how they were both lost, they were both
damned.

"I learned it from you. I met you two years ago, I'd'a
staked you on the spot. Like every other vampire
thought he could mess with me. Now... what I heard
'bout you, what I seen... I know why you don't get to
die. Seein' you pay, yeah, it's a pleasure." And it
would be, to unchain him and then beat him down again.
But not this Angel, he'd want him lucid, he'd want him
to know exactly why.

"Two years?" Sounding bored, but with an edge of
challenge. "I thought you were born to it."

"Like I said, I learned it from you." He picked up the
beaker. "You're lucky. You got me so I don't wanna
come near you. Keep that up, you'll be safe till the
next shift."

Wesley must have heard Gunn lock the door, but he
didn't come out of the bedroom. Gunn poured the blood
away and rinsed out the beaker, and then went to get
Wesley.

"What you gonna do today, Wes?" Wesley had been
standing looking out of the window.

"Lilah... She's brought someone else in."

"She fired you?"

Wesley looked away and shook his head. "Not yet. She
says she's still assessing him. That she'll probably
use us both." He sighed and shrugged. "There was a
prophecy that didn't quite happen the way I'd
translated it. So she was looking in the wrong place
when it happened. The other translator doesn't say I
was wrong. Not over that. But she's had him do his own
versions of a lot of my work. She says... She says
it's not a comparison, she just wants to understand
more. For the risks."

"So what's she got you doing?"

"She's done a report. I have to consider more options.
Explain everything. It's reasonable."

"Man, you love options. Gettin' to explain. Course you
love it, you're the best."

"I thought I was. I don't know where she found him.
She won't tell me anything. But I think he's... I
suppose I am too academic. And she's only been paying
for one reason."

"She c'n afford to pay for ten of you guys. 'n' her
next report'll say how she had it right the first
time. 'This is the man who deals with the vampire
seer. In the business of prophecies, those visions are
as tough and as vague as it gets.' "

Wesley smiled, and put his hand on Gunn's arm. "There
is Angel. An unfair advantage over the other
translator, but we have it." And that was all that
Wesley needed to want to get back to the living-room
and get down to work. "What are you going to do?"

"Some stuff to check out online, then I'll hit the
streets."

Angel was lying quietly. He'd probably be asleep soon.
Wake up lucid while Gunn was out working.

Gunn didn't want them talking to one another. Really,
he didn't want them within ten blocks of each other,
he wanted them to act like they'd lost the right even
to say each other's name.

But he had to go out, he had to leave them together.
Only a door between them, and he bet they could still
talk for hours about how they were both damned. Just
asking each other what Gunn had said, what he'd done -
that would be too much.

He could gag Angel.

No. No, he couldn't. He'd been right the first time:
Angel had to be able to speak because of the visions.
And even if Angel was gagged, Gunn could imagine them
working something out. He could imagine Wesley sitting
on the floor by the door and reading to Angel for
hours.

So he'd tell Wesley not to talk to Angel, he'd get him
to promise.

But he just didn't trust Wesley any more, not where
Angel was concerned. Wesley would understand why Gunn
needed to keep them apart, he would think it was
reasonable; but it would just take Angel acting
confused and pathetic about the chains, acting like
he'd forgotten, and Wesley would be lying to Gunn,
same as before.

Don't leave it to trust, then. Get some guarantee.
Like... Like... Well, they had that voice-operated
recorder, that they used in case Angel got a vision
while they were out training. If he put it in Angel's
room, near the door... He'd be able to check up on
them every time he got back.

Yeah. That'd be enough for him. A couple of weeks,
maybe, of Wesley proving that he could do what Gunn
wanted. He should know he was lucky: that Gunn didn't
need more than a few new rules, after the huge deal of
what he'd done with Angel. Every day they'd done it,
in Gunn's own home, while Gunn got nothing except the
job of worrying about Wesley.

Gunn couldn't concentrate on what he was looking for
online. He needed to get out right now, get Wesley
started on working off what he owed. He got up, went
over to Wesley's desk, opened the second drawer and
took out the recorder.

Wesley looked surprised, then interested. "You need to
tape a meeting? Is it the Gorhan case?"

Gunn shook his head. "It's not to take with me,
it's... Wes, I can't have you talkin' to him when I'm
out. I gotta know that you can act like he's not here,
like it's just you and me."

Shock, and Wesley's pen clattered to the desk. "Of
course you... But you don't have to use that. Haven't
I - All you have to do is tell me."

"He keeps on surprisin' you, Wes. How many times you
said that? I don't - I can't take any more surprises,
not now. So this is goin' in his room any time I
leave. 'n' I'm tellin' you your voice ain't gonna be
on it. You don't even say, 'Charles won't let me talk
to you.' He needs anything told, I'll do it."

Wesley looked away from Gunn, down at the desk. He
picked up his pen, took a long, shuddering breath,
then nodded slowly. "Yes, I understand."

Wesley looked like he was going to carry on with his
work, so Gunn opened the door to their bedroom. "I'm
going out now, Wes. We got a new routine. This is how
it starts." He pointed, and the expression on Wesley's
face was nearly as bad as in the first days after they
heard about the Kekulei demons, and he nodded again
and swallowed hard, and he went.

Angel did seem to be asleep, and telling him wouldn't
have done much good anyway, since he'd forget it again
in a couple of hours. Gunn took a blank pad and wrote
on it in thick black marker-pen: "It is over and he is
not allowed to speak to you. Do not try to get him to
speak. I will know if you make him break the rule and
I will gag him." He propped up the pad where Angel
would have to see it, and where he couldn't reach it
and tear it up. Half the time Angel wouldn't know who
"he" was, but he'd get the warning whenever he was
lucid.

Gunn locked the door and glanced up at the screen and
then thought that Wesley shouldn't be able to look at
Angel either. Not a good idea to take the screen down,
or to cover the camera, because Gunn still needed the
screen for his own protection. But he could unplug the
screen, wrap the lead around the stand so it wouldn't
reach the socket, and use a padlock or something to
keep it in place. A padlock and a strap, as it turned
out, and he found a way of covering the plug so that
even if Wesley got an extension lead he still wouldn't
be able to plug the screen into it.

He didn't mention the screen when he let Wesley out,
but he did tell him about the message he'd left for
Angel, including what he'd said about the gag.

Wesley looked sick. "Would you?" Almost a whisper.

Gunn shrugged. "Hafta do something." Course he
wouldn't gag him. No harm, though, in havin' him and
Angel both think about it.

"What if he got a vision?"

Another shrug. "You could text me. Done it before.
Guess you'd have to stay here. Be me handlin' it 'n'
maybe the crew."

Wesley should his head, over and over. Gunn saw his
lips move, probably "No" and "I won't". Yeah, that was
the idea. He touched Wesley's shoulder then went to
get his case files from the table.

"I'll be back in a few hours. Just act like he's not
here. OK?"

A small grunt from Wesley, who had made himself busy
looking for a book, and was still giving all of his
attention to that when Gunn left.

* * * * *

Wesley was sulking at Gunn big-time, just wouldn't
accept that he had to give Gunn proof. On Thursday and
Friday he wouldn't speak to Gunn above a whisper, and
on Saturday he wouldn't speak to him at all. He'd nod
or shake his head (mostly shake it), and sometimes he
wouldn't look at Gunn for hours, not even when he was
ordered.

He'd sulk extra-hard after Gunn had come back and
checked the tape, and Gunn got more and more
disappointed in him. The way Gunn had planned it, when
he'd listened to the tape and found it was OK, he'd go
into the bedroom and Wesley would be waiting looking
all "What did I tell you?" because of course he
already knew it was OK. And Gunn would have a story
ready about his day, with a couple of chances to ask
Wesley for advice about the case. He'd have
suggestions about take-out food if Wesley didn't want
to cook, about a movie to rent, about a programme for
that evening's training. They'd have forgotten the
tape within a minute because it wasn't important,
Angel wasn't important, not compared to what they
could give each other. And when he wasn't angry any
more, when he and Wesley both knew that he was the
first, last and only person Wesley would turn to for
help, then the tape wouldn't be important at all, and
they'd work together on making everything better.

Yeah, well, in the plan Wesley had taken it like a
man, managed to act like he was sorry for longer than
just one night. They did less together now than they
had before Gunn had found out. Wesley wouldn't eat
with him, definitely wouldn't cook, refused to go
training with the crew, wouldn't even sit on the couch
and read while Gunn was playing his games on the
computer. They had their training sessions on their
own and they shared a bed; that was all.

Gunn was out for more and more of each day, keeping
busy, spending his time with people who'd talk to him.
Wesley seemed to be either at his desk or in the
bedroom; after a while Gunn gave up looking in the
bedroom after he'd checked the tapes, and by the time
he gave up Wesley had gone as far as hunching up on
the floor on the far side of the bed, and he had to
know that he looked just like Angel going for gold in
that Hiding-and-Sulking event.

Obviously Gunn needed another plan. But he'd told
Wesley what he thought of the sulking, and Wesley had
just turned away and shook his head, and for now Gunn
was out of ideas. Maybe he could count "giving up" as
his new plan. Wesley wasn't that difficult to live
with once you'd decided just to ignore him and spend
your time the way you wanted (the way you hadn't been
able since Angel had been well enough to go training
with them, and, God, that had only been back in
March). Wesley had to get bored eventually, try a new
approach of his own.

* * * * *

Gunn knew why Wesley was sulking, and he knew why he
was going to keep on with the tapes, but he had no
idea why he and Wesley were having sex. Shouldn't they
be lying with their backs to one another, jaws
clenched so hard their teeth might splinter? Gunn had
gone to bed like that the first night, but then when
Wesley had got in he'd slid straight across to fold
himself against Gunn's back, his knee between Gunn's
knees, like nothing was wrong between them.

It could have seemed pathetic, or manipulative, or
just plain annoying, and at first Gunn didn't react,
didn't turn to look at Wesley because Wesley didn't
deserve that attention. But then Gunn took in Wesley's
sighs of contentment, the relaxed weight of him, and
he knew it was real and then he didn't turn because he
didn't need to. He reached back and put his hand on
Wesley's hip, and pushed and stretched to get Wesley's
knee up between his thighs, and they both sighed.
Wesley's body. Gunn couldn't be angry with Wesley's
body.

Even with the sighing, Gunn had assumed that would be
all, since it had just been one day - one bad day -
since they'd been telling each other why they wouldn't
have sex. But then he felt Wesley get hard against
him, and he couldn't think about being angry, he
couldn't think about anything. Wesley's cock wanting
him... and within seconds all the thoughts and doubts
and complications belonged to someone else.

Here, now, he was a screaming cock and a starving,
pleading hole; and a heart that might tear loose, and
a wordless moan that was an open begging. And then he
was fingers scrabbling desperately for the tube of
lubricant, and an elbow pushing Wesley roughly out of
the way to make space for a dripping hand. When he'd
made himself ready he took hold of Wesley, pushed him
in as far as he could manage, then put his hand back
on Wesley's hip and pulled. He gave a growl of triumph
as his hole got the fill that it had won by force of
need, and then in the next breath he was moaning
again, but with huge satisfaction, not need, and with
amazement at the depth of that satisfaction.

While his hole had been aching and empty, it had been
simple and savage in its orders to Gunn: to get it a
hard fucking. Gunn would have said that it would never
even have wondered who the cock belonged to, or have
allowed the slightest pause in the wild ride.

But that was before it remembered. In the moments of
stillness after Gunn pulled the cock full in, his hole
absorbed the feeling that they made against each
other, the fit - and in the next moment all of the
greed and urgency fell away. It knew this cock, and
the feelings the cock gave it meant far more than the
promise of a good hard fuck. When it had this cock,
then it knew beyond doubt that everything in the world
was right. The world contained this fit between them,
and so nothing in it could be wrong. There was
kindness, there was loyalty, there was peace, there
was safety and there always would be.

Gunn thought, "That's love. That's like the sweetest
feeling of being in love," and there was amazement in
his moan because he hadn't known before that his body
could hold feelings about Wesley that were quite
separate from the ones he'd been living with and
working with for all the rest of the day.

Wesley was panting and shivering, almost shuddering
against Gunn. He could hardly move, the way he was
lying on his side, and he could only rock against
Gunn, and only do that by pushing against Gunn's hand
on his hip. Gunn slid the hand down to Wesley's thigh
and stroked slowly and gently, trying to soothe him,
but that just made Wesley more desperate. So Gunn
carefully eased himself onto his stomach, holding
Wesley as tight as he could manage to keep him inside.

The next night Gunn got into bed facing Wesley's side,
and Wesley came into his arms and they started with a
kiss. They didn't usually do much more than rub
against one another. Wesley never gave any sign that
he was wanting to be fucked, and Gunn would have
pretended not to see the sign anyway; Angel was still
much too close, and Gunn still didn't trust himself.
They never spoke.

* * * * *


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