[Gunnwesley] Fic: Kungai Part One 11/11 (Wesley/Gunn, NC17)

[helenraven]

Title: Kungai Part One 11/11

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 kissed for a long time, sighing and murmuring and
shifting against one another, but becoming aroused
only slowly. Too much adrenaline, Gunn decided. Far
too much to think about, for both of them.

He'd be living with a vampire. Helping to protect a
vampire. What would the crew make of that? Well, what
would anyone? Gunn wondered if there was anyone
outside this apartment who knew the truth about Angel
Investigations.

"Should we let him out? Tell him what's happened?"

Wesley frowned for a few seconds, then shook his head.
"No, I don't want to deal with him right now. I'd much
rather deal with you, in our bed."

Gunn's cock reacted so fast, it seemed to happen even
before he'd really noticed what Wesley had said. "So
it's 'our' bed, now?"

Wesley looked briefly surprised, then slid his hand
down to Gunn's ass and pulled him close, his breathing
starting to catch up to Gunn's. "And you're a
romantic. I wouldn't have guessed."

Gunn growled, partly playing it tough, mostly excited;
and he pushed himself against Wesley. "This feel like
'romance' to you?"

Slowly, deliberately: "Tell me. What you want to do
with me, in our bed. What do you want to do
differently, now that it's ours?"

Gunn imagined everything they'd already done, slower,
faster, harder, again and again, forever. Every inch
of their bodies used for sex - no reserve, no
distinction. And nothing between them except sex,
nowhere they met except the bed. "Everything." Gunn's
voice was unsteady; his throat felt half-closed by the
pulse thudding through it.

"Everything?" Wesley raised his eyebrows, seemed to
change his mind at least twice about what he was going
to say. "Starting with what?"

"Don't know yet. But starting now." Gunn tugged at
Wesley's belt, backing him towards the bedroom.

"And now?" Wesley was kneeling on the far side of the
bed, waiting for Gunn. "Do you know now? What you want
to do?"

Gunn knelt opposite Wesley, just close enough to
touch. "Get inside you. But it's still too - Have to
take that slow and serious. But I want..."

"Do you want..." Wesley reached down for Gunn's hand
and lifted it level with his open mouth. "Do you want
to make a start?"

Gunn wasn't sure what Wesley meant - but he wanted
everything of Wesley, no questions. As soon as he
nodded, Wesley leaned forward and took Gunn's middle
finger into his mouth. Gunn groaned at the sight,
closed his eyes at the heat and wetness, then opened
his eyes again as soon as Wesley pulled away and
slowly lowered his hand.

"Have you ever done this before? Put your fingers
inside someone? Do you know what to expect?"

"Just to myself."

"Then you know." Wesley let go of Gunn's hand and then
put his arm around Gunn's chest and pulled himself
close - bracing himself, almost, though he wasn't
tense.

Gunn reached behind Wesley with both hands, and felt
first with his left hand so he wouldn't waste any of
the wetness from his right. The first time he'd ever
done this with someone else, and he was going to do
everything he could think of to make it good. After
he'd switched hands, he didn't try to press in
immediately, but slowly circled and rocked, wetting
the muscle, and feeling like he was warming it,
softening it, learning what it wanted. Wesley sighed,
and opened his mouth against Gunn's neck.

Even warmed and softened, the muscle was very tight,
and if he'd been trusting only to the feelings from
his hand, Gunn would probably have stopped before the
first knuckle; but everything else was telling him
that this was right for Wesley, more than right. So he
kept on, as deep as he could get, with Wesley moaning
and sweating and gasping his name. For a while, Gunn
tried to give them both a chance to calm down, so they
would make it last, so he could take in more than a
fraction of the reality of being allowed inside
Wesley; but Wesley's reactions made that impossible.

"Well, I wouldn't argue with anyone who called that
everything." Wesley sounded far beyond relaxed, like
he might never move again. They'd fallen sideways
across the bed, still tightly locked in the same
grasp; Wesley was on his left side, but seemed
comfortable enough against the support of Gunn's arm.

"Was damn close." A contented sigh. "Couldn't be what
you expected, though, when you called me romantic."

"I call romantic whatever reminds us that we can make
each other almost forget to breathe."

Gunn laughed. "Yeah, OK. You know, just a second or so
before you called me that, I'd been thinking we
probably wouldn't have sex tonight. We'd be too strung
out after what we'd been through. What you'd told me."

Wesley nodded. "I mainly wanted to get away from
Angel. Away from where we'd been when I knew you'd
have to leave me. I thought we'd lie and talk. It's
early. By our standards, it's very early."

Gunn smiled. "Hardly touched our second beers. They'd
still be nearly cold."

"You want to get them, don't you?" Wesley sounded
amused.

Gunn shrugged, then nodded. "Friday night. Some things
I expect like you expect your curry."

"I can understand that." Wesley arched up, away from
Gunn's arm, and they slowly disentangled themselves,
then both went into the bathroom. It was the first
time they had been in the bathroom together, the first
time they had seen themselves together in a mirror,
and they stood and stared, and placed hands to see the
contrast.

"You are one fancy white boy, English. Couldn't argue
with Vince about that, he wanted to take that line.
People are gonna think we got some kinda black/white,
street/silver-spoon thing goin'. Gonna take one look
'n' think they know all about us."

Wesley frowned briefly, shook his head. "They'll know
I got lucky. And they'll wonder how you manage not to
see..." A flicker of the eyes in the mirror towards
his left shoulder, and then he was staring into Gunn's
eyes. "How do you manage?"

Easily and truthfully: "I don't think about it."

"Not even now?"

"I think about not hurting you. And I think about how
I love everything about you, every part of you. If you
don't want me to think about anything else, then I
won't."

A pause, then Wesley started to turn towards him. "Do
you want to see?"

Slowly: "If you're ready."

Wesley nodded. "Be careful if you touch it. I know
you'll be careful but please don't stroke it. Almost
anything moving against it feels wrong."

"I'll be careful." Gunn put his right hand on Wesley's
side, turned him the final inch, settled his left hand
on Wesley's chest, then took his first direct look at
the damage. There were clear lines of scars, still
looking jagged and raw to Gunn, a long way to go
before they'd be faded down to white. Even though the
lines were clear, it was difficult to count them -
they crossed too many times, changed paths too
abruptly. Looked like a battleground -a hard fight, a
long fight, to make the best possible use of the skin
that was left around the empty socket. Probably it was
well done. Probably it was all that could be done. He
refused to think about anything else but the doctors
bent over the night's new problem, their
concentration, their determination. He couldn't bear
to imagine anything else about that night.

After about a minute he raised his head. "They took
good care of you, it looks like."

"I think so. I don't remember much. Angel probably
scared them."

"Do you still need me not to see, the rest of the
time?"

Wesley shook his head. "Not anymore. Thank you." A
sigh of surprise and relief. "I've had nightmares
about that. Not about you seeing it, the nightmares
were months ago. About anyone seeing it. But that
turned out to be easy."

Gunn got the beers while Wesley turned out the lights
in the kitchen and living-room. Angel was still awake,
or at least, the light was on in his room, showing as
a line under the bottom of the door.

"You really gonna leave him like that all night?" They
were at the door of the bedroom, with Wesley just
about to lead the way in.

"It's the safest thing to do. By tomorrow he should
have forgotten most of what he overheard. There's less
chance then that he'll be difficult to deal with."

"You think he overheard much?"

"Yes, everything."

Wesley's reply had been so casual that it wasn't until
they were settling themselves against the pillows that
Gunn started really remembering what they had said,
and thinking about what Angel must have overheard.
"Wesley, you said you'd kill him! How the hell's he
gonna forget that?"

"You don't need to worry about that. He already knows
what I'd do. We've talked about it several times."

Gunn could only stare at Wesley, thinking maybe for
the fiftieth time, "What is your life like?" Finally:
"Is he scared of what's happening to him? How much
does he understand?"

"Less and less, I think. To both questions. When we
first realised that it was getting worse..." A deep
sigh. "We were both scared. But then we found out that
we could cope."

After several minutes silence, Gunn said, "Did Angel
have a vision of you? When he saved you from that
demon."

"The Kungai. Yes. It was his first vision. He didn't
know until then that he'd been given them. And it was
the middle of the day. So he had to deal with all of
that, head out on his own. As soon as I could
afterwards, I started going out with him. It was the
only thing to do. He taught me how to fight. We even
managed to keep his detective business going."

Wesley's voice was neutral, but Gunn saw the
implication: that Angel could have been in time to
save Wesley's arm. He wondered if Wesley and Angel had
ever talked about that.

"Were you rooming together the whole time?"

"He had an office at first. With a good-sized
apartment underneath it. He took me home from the
hospital. Gave me his bed."

"How did that happen, if he didn't like you when you
met in Sunnydale? Was that because of the high-school
stuff? Cordy and everything."

"No, I was -" A pause. "I wasn't at my best in
Sunnydale. You wouldn't have thought much of me
either." Another pause. "I'm sure he would have
preferred never to see me again. But I think he felt
guilty. You know. About the vision. That he wasn't
five minutes earlier. And he probably thought I'd head
straight back to England, that he'd be rid of me in a
week or so. But we couldn't afford that building for
very long. Really couldn't afford to have an office.
So we moved in here a couple of months ago."

"When did you decide that you were staying? In L.A.
with him." Gunn felt cold, thinking of all the ways he
and Wesley could have missed meeting each other.

"I don't remember deciding. I'd been trying not to
think about my future. Even before -" A sigh. "Angel
started... having problems with other people. As if
anything that wasn't in the visions was a waste of his
time. Almost as if it wasn't real to him any more. So
I started dealing with clients for him. Soon he
couldn't drive. Couldn't collect his blood from the
slaughterhouse. But he could still teach me to fight."

"Lucky for him he decided to bring you home from the
hospital."

"Well, except that he thinks the Powers arranged it.
That it wasn't luck. That he didn't really decide. He
talked like that a lot when we first moved in here. I
don't think he -" Wesley was tense, protesting, and
talking to himself rather than to Gunn. "I mean, when
you remember that he was there. He saw everything. He
saw me -" Wesley swallowed and sighed. "He seems to
like the idea of a plan, that there's someone in
charge, that everything is for the best. I can see
that he's got a lot invested in that, and maybe I did
once, but..." Shaking his head. "Why shouldn't it all
be an accident? Angel coming back from hell. Getting
the visions. The Kungai. Everything. Given the choice
now, I'd always prefer benign incompetence over
callous efficiency. I expect that's selfish. Yes, he
was lucky. Let's leave it at that."

Angel coming back from hell? No, that had to be just
another of Wesley's ways of putting things. Like the
muttering landscape. After about ten seconds, Gunn
said, "He can't imagine you not being here, Wes.
That's why he doesn't think about what he's saying."
That and the brain damage, but Wesley didn't need Gunn
to say something that could be taken as a joke.

"Used to say. And I can't imagine either. It's the
most important thing I've ever done. So they wouldn't
have needed any plan to get me to stay. I would have
said yes if they'd asked."

Gunn stroked the length of Wesley's thigh. "If they'd
known to ask. It was all an accident. There's nothing
to think over."

Wesley sighed and leaned against him. "Oh, it's good
to hear someone else say that. Even knowing you were
never going to disagree with me, it's still good."

"You've been alone too long, English. It's not good
for you."

"Ah." A long, contented sigh. "Now we're talking again
about how I got lucky. You should never have noticed
me. I'm not your type."

"You're not a 'type'. C'mon, call me Sugarlips in ten
different languages." And Wesley did, with a kiss or
six between each language. When they were back leaning
against the pillows again, Gunn said, "D'you mind me
calling you Wes? Or is Angel the only person who does
that?"

"Well, until today. But I like it. And it'll probably
mean that when you call me Wesley, you're annoyed with
me. Which is always useful to know."

Gunn laughed. "Is that what Angel does?"

"He definitely used to. Now I think it's more a matter
of what he remembers about me on a particular day. If
he doesn't really remember we've lived together, then
it's Wesley. Or nothing."

"What you gonna call me? When you're annoyed with me."

"That could simply never happen." Not serious, too
smugly confident. When they'd finished laughing,
Wesley said, "I'll think of something."

Gunn suddenly turned serious, surprising even himself.
"Then what about what we are to each other? What do we
call that? Are you my lover, my boyfriend, my partner?
What? If anyone asks?"

"Are you thinking about tomorrow?"

"I suppose. I've never had to decide before. I mean,
'boyfriend'. It'd be OK for a girl to call you that, I
wouldn't think twice. But for me... You're not a boy.
And 'lover'." A sigh. "Sounds too neat. All packaged
like it's something safe. It's not packaged, it's...
everywhere."

"Um... I like both, actually. To be able to say that
about you. 'My boyfriend Charles'. I could say it a
hundred times a day and still be amazed."

"It sounds OK when you say it. 'I'm Wesley's
boyfriend.' 'I'm Wesley's lover.' God, yes, I like
that too. But... 'He's my boyfriend.' " Gunn shook his
head slowly, pushing the word away, then more briskly,
realising. "You know, I think it's the idea of saying
it in just one word. What you are. I don't want people
to think they know. Because they don't."

"But 'my boyfriend Charles' is OK?"

"I don't care what they think they know about me. And
being anything to you. Having a place in your life. No
complaints about whatever describes any part of that.
"

* * * * *

The next morning, Wesley unlocked the door to Angel's
room as soon as they were both dressed, before he'd
even put the coffee on. Gunn stood guard immediately
outside, in case Angel remembered too much and was
difficult - but Angel was asleep.

"Can I see?"

Wesley made to open the door again, then paused for
several seconds, and then moved away from the door,
shaking his head slightly. "I'd rather ask him first.
He can be very private about some things. It was
months before he let me see him drinking."

Gunn nodded, not surprised. Of course Wesley would
respect for his vampire's privacy. "D'you think he'll
be like that with me? That it'll take months?"

Wesley shrugged. "He's different now. His perception
of other people is different. Most of the time he'll
probably think that you've always been here."

Gunn got back to the base shortly before eleven, and
immediately started rounding up Jackson, Rondell and
George, his three deputies. He came across most of the
crew in the process, and Vince and Elton were looking
at him with active suspicion, though from what Gunn
could judge they were either keeping it to themselves
so far or not finding any takers.

"OK." They were in Gunn's bedroom. Gunn had started
packing. "I'm gonna step down. I can't head the crew
any more. I'll be tellin' the whole crew as soon as
we're finished here."

"You're not just steppin' down, you're bailin'! What's
goin' on with you, man?"

"I've met someone. Someone I have to be with. Can't do
both."

"Just like that? Not even gonna try? Not even gonna
bring her down here? How'd you ever meet someone who
can't see what it is you do?"

"Yeah, how the hell can that work?"

"It's already working." To Jackson: "And I met him the
same place you did. In the thrift shop on Denker.
Fighting a truckload of vampires."

Jackson: "But that was - You're shittin' us?" Gunn
shook his head.

Rondell: "Tell me it's the big guy. I mean, we could
-" He looked at Jackson, gave a small shrug. "I could
see you might give that a try. You know, for a week or
something. But, fuck, man, no one has to know."

"It's not the big guy. It's the other one, the English
guy. And everyone has to know. Because I'm movin' in
with him today. I'm leavin'."

"So every night this week, you been..."

"Yes."

 "Oh, Jesus!"

"But he's - Shit, man, how can you? What'd he do to
you?"

"Make me happy. Make it worth giving up this." A flick
of the hand towards the door, meaning the whole base,
all of them. "Putting up with this!" He jerked his
chin forward, meaning their expressions, their
reactions. "So I step down in half an hour, what you
gonna do? Show me you've got a plan."

Between them they did put together a plan, while Gunn
finished packing. They chose Rondell to replace Gunn,
and decided to bring in Vince as the third deputy.
Better to have him on the inside. And he had
initiative, thought on his feet, no shortage of
courage. Perfectly good choice.

Jackson fetched Vince from the weapons room, and his
reaction to the news was everything Gunn had expected.
"A fag? That kind of fag? Damn, you fooled us good."
To the others: "Must've been pleased with himself,
huh?"

Rondell, sharply: "Leave it. He's gone. And we've all
gotta act like we're cool with it. Like there was
nothin' to know, there's nothin' to talk about. 'cept
he's met someone and yeah it's a surprise, but that's
life and who can blame him. We got somethin' good here
and most of that's thanks to him, so we keep doin'
what we all know how to do."

Gunn took his bags down to the truck while Jackson,
Rondell and George called the crew to a meeting in the
kitchen. Gunn made his announcement, then handed over
to Rondell. Rondell immediately introduced Vince as a
new deputy, and the four of them then presented a
united front of brisk indifference, like no one could
be expected to notice Gunn's departure, like no one
cared enough about his announcement to consider it a
surprise. Gunn matched their indifference, and the
questions and comments were few, and easily
neutralised.

Rondell walked Gunn to the truck. With his hand on the
door-handle, Gunn said, "Good work. You'll do fine."

"Yeah, we will." Dismissive, unsmiling.

"You can call me, you know. Got somethin' you wanna
check out."

"Sure."

"You gonna badmouth me all over town?"

"You know we're not. No point. Not gonna pretend
we're, like, 'happy' for you, though. Y'pitch that one
on y'r own."

"Figured." Gunn opened the door, swung himself into
the cab. "Good luck. I'll ask after you. And keep out
of your way."

"Yeah."

Gunn saw Rondell standing, watching the truck, until
he turned the corner and was out of sight.

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