[Gunnwesley] Fic: Kungai Part Two 9/12 (Wesley/Gunn, NC17)

[helenraven]

Title: Kungai Part Two 9/12

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 was home, on his own in the living-room,
stretched out on his back on the couch and listening
to classical music, really listening to it, no book
anywhere near him. He started to get up but Gunn told
him to stay put.

"I'm guessing he didn't find anything." Gunn was
kneeling beside the couch, with his forearm pressed
against the warmth of Wesley's left side, and with
Wesley's fingers resting lightly on the inside of his
wrist. Wesley's erection looked to be in about the
same state as Gunn's: on a good simmer, no idea yet of
getting urgent.

Wesley shook his head slowly. "Nothing at all that
said demon. A few drops of blood from the alley with
the dumpster, that he said didn't come from either of
the two. But just a few and he couldn't tell how long
they'd been there." A shrug. "There's nothing for us
to do."

"Is he OK about what we did in training? Are you?"

"Well, no one would be happy about it. But he's not
angry with us. It's easy enough to tell when he's
angry. I think we're over the worst. What about you? I
was - Of course, I know you'd be careful."

Gunn had thought at first that Wesley was asking about
the fight, then realised he meant Caritas. "Didn't
really need to be." Gunn told Wesley the little that
he'd learned about the spell, and mentioned that he'd
given his card to Matt. "You don't have a problem with
that, do you? Idea of us doin' work for demons."

"Not in principle. I'd be surprised if any demon would
really consider us, though, given what we've been
doing so far. And I'd want to take the address off the
cards." A brief laugh and then he smiled up at Gunn.
"You know I'd never go looking for work if left to
myself. Not until I'd been out of translation work for
maybe a month. It's an amazing idea. You're full of
amazing ideas." Suddenly very serious. "And you do it.
You go out and you make people want to talk to you.
Charles. You're wasted on us."

Gunn wanted to be all cool and gruff and shrug it
away, but didn't manage more than getting a slight
twist to his smile. "Yeah, you can decide how much I'm
worth when I've actually got us some business." Then
his smile faded and he turned as serious as Wesley,
and slowly brought his right hand over and laid it on
top of Wesley's hand. Almost in a whisper: "Bed?"

Gunn had thought he was completely ready to get
fucked, thought Wesley was way overplaying the older,
more-experienced man. No one could need that much
reassurance, no one could be that frightened of a
slightly new experience, maybe a little pain. And then
Wesley started pressing in and within seconds Gunn was
rigid with shock and gasping at Wesley to stop. How
could Wesley's cock feel so huge and hard? Feel so
blunt. Blunt like a weapon. Feel brutal. Like it had a
mind of its own. Or no mind at all. It could split him
in two and never notice. He'd taken more from Wesley's
fingers, he knew he had. But they had Wesley's mind,
they were completely Wesley. The cock pressing in had
felt like it didn't know him.

They were sorry, they were both sorry, they said it
over and over. Wesley said they shouldn't try again,
not that night: Gunn was too tense now, it would be
even worse.

"Is it always like this? Was it like this for you? You
thought you were ready but you couldn't guess how it
would really feel?"

"I - I'm sure we didn't think about 'ready'. It was
very difficult. I hoped it would be much easier for
you. Easy."

"Did you try it again with him?"

Wesley nodded.

"How long did it take before it got easy?"

"I can't remember. I did get used to it. But we didn't
know what we were doing. We were young. I'm sure
neither of us guessed there was anything to know. I
did hope I'd learned enough to make it easier for you.
I should have told you I've never..." Wesley sighed,
frowned deeply. "No one's ever wanted me to be their
first before. I'm sorry."

Gunn shook his head. "I panicked, that's all. Must've,
I dunno, taken in more prison stories than I realised.
Oh, jeez, Wes! I didn't mean - You were -" But Wesley
had only looked slightly surprised, maybe even just
puzzled. "Just for it to feel so different, when I
loved your fingers, right from the start. Must be some
part of me that still thinks it's a big deal. That's
what I wasn't ready for. Not this time."

They got done with saying sorry and turned to kissing
and stroking, and soon they were on a noisy, biting,
bucking ride from one side of the bed to another.
Afterwards, when Gunn was lying in his usual position
curled over Wesley's right side, he said, "Wes? Do I
feel tense to you right now?"

"No. Why? Have you got a muscle cramp?" Wesley sounded
serious, really concerned.

"Muscle cramp! English." Gunn rolled his head to press
his lips to Wesley's ribs, then relaxed back. "I don't
want to wait until tomorrow. I want to try again
tonight. It is a big deal and I want it now. Unless
you're about to fall asleep on me."

"I'm wide awake. We may need to negotiate about 'now',
though."

Gunn felt the same clutch of shock when Wesley started
pushing in, but he told himself it was panic, told
himself some of the reasons, and he fought through it.
All the way in, the cock felt huge, impossible,
not-Wesley, but at some point what had been
threatening and frightening started to become pure
excitement, the most intense adventure. Almost too
much, almost, to be so stretched, so full; to feel the
effects of the fucking spreading further and further,
like the cock could turn your whole body into nothing
but sex. There was pain, but it didn't frighten him
like the first time; he knew from the start that it
wasn't going to get worse, it was just about how
stretched he was right now, not a warning that the
next inch could split him in two. A clean pain, part
of the adventure. He couldn't speak.

Wesley was able to speak, though, at least at first.
Once he was full in, he held still and pressed himself
the length of Gunn's back, kissing Gunn's neck,
gasping Gunn's name, and calling Gunn his darling. The
word startled Gunn, seemed to hang like a hailstone in
his brain, with his heart shivering beneath, waiting
for the fall. The word belonged in a different world,
the world of the song, too neat, too romantic. That
world couldn't cope, not for a second, with what Gunn
was doing now, what he was feeling from this cock
pushed deep in his ass. But Wesley kept on saying it,
even as he started rocking against Gunn like Gunn had
done his first time inside Wesley, and he was saying
it with the same hunger, the same amazement that Gunn
could hear in his own cries and gasps - and the word
was changed for Gunn then, seared from the heat of
their sex till it was as tough and fierce as anything
they were doing or feeling.

Gunn was as impatient as Wesley that he didn't want to
be touched during the fucking: he didn't want the
distraction, and he'd much rather have Wesley use his
arm to give more power and control to the fucking
itself. He'd expected to come by Wesley's hand, with
Wesley still half-hard inside him; because that was
how it had always been between them so far, and he did
love to feel Wesley come that way. But then he would
have missed Wesley's mouth working above his own hand,
and their fingers together circling and rubbing his
hole, feeling it so slick and tender and aching.

"Did you know you were calling me 'darling'?"

"Well, of course." Surprised: "Haven't I before?"

Gunn shook his head. "Kind of the last thing a big,
axe-handy street-nigger expects to hear from a white
guy."

Wesley winced. "It's an insult. I'm so sorry."

"No, it's..." A long pause. "It's special. I thought I
knew how you loved me. Didn't know that sometimes you
loved me like that.  You surprise me, Wes."

"But I always love you like that. Almost from the
moment I really knew you wanted me, the moment I knew
you'd want me again. Then you went from being kind,
handsome, determined, inspiring, observant Charles to
being all of that and mine in one word." Wesley
smiled, suddenly teasing. "And I'll bet you haven't
even decided yet if I'm your 'boyfriend'."

Gunn made like he was alarmed. "Hey, don't pressure
me, man! I told you I don't get serious with guys from
out of state." No, he didn't have a single word like
that to describe what Wesley meant to him, though it
wouldn't ever be "darling" unless living with Wesley
managed to bleach every drop of street out of him. For
other people, Wesley was going to be his "partner".
For himself... He discovered new things to describe in
Wesley every day. There wasn't ever going to be one
single word.

* * * * *

Gunn next visited Caritas on Thursday night, and by
that time he'd done a lot of thinking about how Angel
Investigations could set itself at a larger market.
He'd started by thinking about ways they could try to
reach demons as well as humans, wondering how much
they'd have to keep their work for humans separate
from their work for demons, what sort of changes
they'd need to make in their approach. Separate phone
lines, maybe, with separate machines, and different
messages on each machine. And then he'd listened to
their outgoing message for the first time, and that
had got him thinking a whole new set of thoughts about
Angel Investigations and what it might be for .

"We help the helpless." That had to put off at least
as many people as it reassured. No one wants to think
of themselves as helpless, sure as hell don't want to
be told they're helpless. Yeah, you've been scared
shitless since you had the bad luck to find out that
demons are real, but you also had the guts to do
something about it: to believe what you were seeing,
to wonder how often it had happened before, and to go
looking for other people who knew demons were real.
That's not "helpless", that's just knowing when you
need to get an expert. OK, so Angel Investigations
might end up putting themselves in danger for you, but
Gunn would bet anything that when people called they
didn't expect heroes, didn't expect heroics, any more
than they would when they called a plumber. They
wanted a solid opinion, and then at least one plan of
action.

Wesley said that the message was from before his time,
that Angel and Doyle had always answered the phone
like that. He had himself, at first, when the calls
for Angel Investigations still outnumbered the calls
for his translation work.

"Is that the only type of work you guys have ever
wanted to do? The out-and-out rescue missions, close
as you can get to the visions? When they're so
desperate they're way past pride, come begging the big
heroes to save them?"

Wesley was truly shocked, looked at Gunn like he
couldn't believe what he'd heard. "Charles, what are
you - You know we have to help people. We do help
people. It's why we're all here."

"Dumping that message, that way of looking at the
business... You'll still get the rescue missions -
those poor bastards'll still be able to find you,
still realise they've got the right place. But you
might start to get people who don't think they're
desperate, don't wanna deal with heroes, just lookin'
for someone who knows the territory. Even down to..."
Gunn shrugged. "I dunno, someone who isn't in any kind
of trouble, just wants a go-between. Got a business
meeting with a demon, wants to know how to behave. If
I find there's work out there that isn't
life-or-death, would you do it? Or show me how to do
it?"

"It isn't..." Wesley frowned and shook his head
slowly. "It isn't about making money. We do have a
mission. What if we're so busy with your business
meetings that the person who really is desperate can't
get through?"

"Wes, it wouldn't be any different from dealing with
the visions. You know more than anyone about checking
in. About always bein' ready for the person who really
needs help. And you wouldn't diss money if you'd lived
some of the places I've had to live. Yeah, we'll draw
the line, but that desperate person needs us to be
able to pay the rent. Pay the phone bill. Would you do
it, the small stuff? Or is it... You'd rather stack
shelves?"

"I'd do it. I think I'd do it. If I could. Someone
wanting advice on how to behave, I'm the last person
anyone should ask."

The next big question was where Gunn should start with
breaking them in to the not-helpless end of the
market. He needed to find out what reasons people
could have for taking an interest in demons (reasons
that didn't involve hurting someone else, or scaring
someone else, or harassing a harmless demon - or
breaking any other rule that Wesley or Angel or Gunn
came up with between them). And then he needed to find
out where people started looking when they were
interested in demons, and what expert services they
might be willing to pay for. Where would he find the
people and their reasons? Caritas, obviously - main
reasons there probably curiosity or boredom, but might
be good for picking up rumours of other reasons.
Wesley suggested the specialist bookstores and his
translation clients, said he'd call and see which of
them would talk to Gunn.

"You sure you want me to talk to them? Aren't they
gonna expect me to know about books? Speak all those
languages?"

"I'll explain you're from a different side of the
business. And I'll tell you what I know about each of
them. I wouldn't ask them the right questions, not in
the way that you would. I'm not looking for ways to
change."

All three bookstore owners agreed immediately to talk
to Gunn.  No need to make an appointment, drop in any
time, sure, that week would be fine. The translation
clients either said no or said they'd have to check
and call back, and by Caritas-time on Thursday night
only one client had said yes, with a meeting arranged
for the following Tuesday.

"Lilah Morgan. One of my best clients. We meet at
least once a month."

"In the public library, like she's set for Tuesday?"

Wesley nodded. "They have rooms for people who need to
be able to shut themselves away in order to
concentrate. Study carrels. She books one of those."

"Huh." Maybe she had something as bad as a mad vampire
back in her office, too. Wesley wouldn't have asked
her, of course. "So what's her deal?"

"Prophecies. She's part of a small research team of
financial analysts. They can get funding for anything
that might predict how the markets will behave."
Wesley shrugged. "She says the scrolls are right often
enough to make the team's future secure. She seems
rather paranoid but then I don't know the financial
sector. And I don't know who she hired to investigate
me before she gave me the first manuscript, but he
found out about Angel."

"Everything about Angel? That you've been workin' with
a vampire?"

"And the visions, too. 'The vampire seer'. An object
of some curiosity in the prediction business,
apparently."

"She wants to check me out. That's why she agreed to
the meeting."

"That and trying to discourage us from offering our
services to her competitors. I'm sure she'd rather our
business stayed undeveloped." Wesley smiled suddenly.
"I think you'll enjoy the meeting even if she's
determined not to help you directly. She definitely
has a different perspective."

Matt, Piriti and Grouw were all at Caritas when Gunn
arrived, so it looked like he'd been right when he'd
guessed that Thursday was one of their regular nights.
Gunn got his beer then dropped by their table to say
hi to Matt.

"Oh, hey! Y'came back." To his friends: "This is Gunn.
With that card I showed you." The two demons nodded at
Gunn, looking much like Gunn would have if a friend
had introduced him to a middle-class guy who claimed
to be an expert on life on the streets; sometimes you
just have to accept that your friend has his
blind-spots and agree to play nice (unless provoked).
"You staying? Wanna pull up a chair?"

"OK with you?" The demons weren't going to say no, but
they'd want to be asked. After they said it was OK,
Gunn found a chair and joined them, sitting between
Matt and Grouw. He asked them if they'd sung yet, what
they were going to sing, and they warmed to him while
they were telling him about the Talking Heads song
that they were breaking in.

" 'Houses in Motion'. Y'know it?" Gunn didn't.

"No idea what it's about, but it's got this great
bounce goin' between the main vocals and the backing,
'specially in the chorus. Matt knew, soon as he heard
it, that we had to do it."

Gunn asked Matt how he'd found the song. "My mom. It's
from, like, the seventies, or something. She was
playin' it in the car the last time we went to Palm
Springs. 's our favourite album for driving now. Good
strong beat, words you can argue about for hours."

Gunn grinned. "Can't wait to hear it."

All of the nine or ten songs that they heard while
they were waiting were love-songs - some hopeful, some
grateful, some regretful, but all more-or-less sweet.
The new song fell into this warm bath like a wind-up
toy with a whole box of fizzing bath-salts strapped to
its back. The beginning was strange, jarring, too much
contrast between the angular rhythm and Matt's smooth,
almost-spoken vocals. "For a long time I felt, without
style or grace, wearing shoes with no socks, in cold
weather." And what the hell was it about? "And as we
watch him, digging his own grave." But by the time
Piriti and Grouw took over with the chorus the rhythm
had snapped out of angular into crisp and catchy -
yeah, perfect for driving. Gunn wanted to join in -
most of the room did, judging from all the in-seat
dancing. 

Gunn bought them drinks. They wound down quite
quickly: pleased with themselves, full of ideas for
what they'd do better next time, but with enough of
these on their score-card that they didn't need to
talk it all over right now. When people came over to
the table to congratulate them on the new song, one of
the three would usually introduce Gunn (as a
non-singer who looked like becoming a regular); and
then afterwards they'd explain to Gunn who he'd just
met (or escaped meeting). 

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