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A Second Chance at a First

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“You’ve never done this before, have you?” Angel asks softly.


Wesley’s face flushes red. He can feel it, spread from cheeks to ears. Angel reaches out with one gentle hand and cups the heat with his cool fingers, soothing the fever that has flared. Wesley still doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s forced to say, “Not as such, no.”


“What do you mean?” Angel prods, still gentle. 


Wesley loves and hates that. Loves because it reminds him, as if he needs reminding, just why he cares so deeply for this man. Hates because this is exactly what he had feared, that Angel would see him as somehow vulnerable with this new knowledge.


“I’m hardly a virgin, Angel,” Wesley says firmly. “It’s only my experience with men that is…” Wesley struggles for the right word and finishes pathetically, “…limited.”


“How limited?” And how could Angel’s eyes be so very warm?


“Does it matter?” Wesley asks his own question, desperate for this to be done with.


“Matters to me,” Angel says. He leans in and kisses Wesley on the forehead. “I wanna know everything about you. About your past. All the stuff I never asked before… before the break. Now I’ve got a second chance with you, Wesley, and I’m not going to let it go to waste.”


Wesley takes a deep breath. How could he say no to that? “We won’t,” Wesley promises. “I’m here, in your bed – well, almost. That hardly qualifies as time wasting.”


“Don’t change the subject,” Angel orders, still soft and sweet, but stern now. Wesley refuses to squirm, to acknowledge the way his cock hardens just a little more.


He stares down at the bed covers. “I was enjoying this a good deal more when your lips were too occupied for discussion.”


“Yeah,” Angel smiles. He leans in again and recaptures Wesley’s mouth with his own. 


They kiss for a few moments, stretching out time and exploring new territory. Because, whatever Wesley might or might not have done in the past, this would always have been something entirely new. It’s Angel.


When they break apart, Angel is smiling. “C’mon,” he says and gives Wesley’s hand a tug so that they’re moving together around the edge of the bed. Then he’s pushing Wesley down onto it. “Lie back. Head on the pillows.”


Wesley has to glare. “Do you really think me so inexperienced that it is necessary to tell me how to use your bed?"


“Nah,” says Angel, still with that smile. "But I like telling you what to do. Makes you mad. You’re cute when you’re mad.”


Wesley ought to be offended. He is! Truly. But all that comes out is, “Oh.”


Angel crawls onto the bed, weight on knees and arms that flex beneath the black, button up shirt Angel wears. He’s hovering over Wesley now, between Wesley’s legs, which have spread without Wesley even realizing it until this second.


Angel leans down, as if to kiss, and Wesley sees a flicker of uncertainty just for a moment before the brave, sure façade is back and they can both pretend Angel is in absolute control. But Wesley knows better. And, somehow, that makes him stronger.


Wesley slides his hands up large muscles and squeezes them before continuing up and up until he can cup Angel’s face and bring it down to his. As nice as Angel’s lips on his are, Wesley is looking for more this time. He traces the tip of his tongue against the outline of mouth presented to him.


Angel rewards Wesley’s initiative with a groan and parts his lips, inviting Wesley in. It’s Wesley’s turn to moan when their tongues slip together and Angel’s flicks against his. They both arch at the same time. They both freeze.  


Their action has brought the bulge in Wesley’s trousers against Angel's matching one. Wesley’s breath comes in short pants, small gasps. This is far more than it had seemed. Sex with Angel is now sex with Angel. And Wesley is panicking because there should be words for this, words poetic and powerful, and yet they fail him.


But there’s that flicker in Angel’s eyes again. A light goes off in Wesley’s head. It’s not worry for the curse that is creeping through Angel’s mind. It is instead the same concern freezing Wesley’s muscles. That this, somehow, can’t be. It feels so right and so simple and how often do they truly experience either? So surely something will stop them now. Worse, what if they stop themselves? Wesley has a burning fear of Angel slipping off him, standing, and apologizing. An awkward nod and stomach turning conversation later and they will be on their separate ways. It was all a mistake, a fluke.


That Angel fears it too lets Wesley know that the nightmare won’t happen. They both want this enough to ache at the thought of being without it any longer. So Wesley pushes up once more and twists his hips, grinding the erection he’s still sporting against cloth and more. So much more.


Angel groans and in a split second he’s devouring Wesley by way of a kiss. He doesn’t ask nor does he wait for permission or acceptance. He thrusts into Wesley’s mouth, his tongue licking its way around the inside, claiming every inch as his. Wesley goes slack and lets him, only able to moan.


But Wesley's hands are free and of their own accord are working beneath the shirt Angel has on. Wesley runs his palms over a strong back and pictures the tattoo he knows is there, also knowing he will see it in person soon. Then back around to the front his fingers slip, gliding over ribs one by one until they reach the hard point of a nipple.


Wesley has seen Angel sans clothing before, without a shirt more than once. It’s part of the process of patching one another up post battle. But this is different, so far from taping a bandage onto Angel’s shoulder or wrapping his ribs in gauze.


Wes circles the pad of his thumb round and round the place that Angel, he hopes, is craving his touch now. When Wesley only teases, moving over a few inches to the other nipple and repeating his action, Angel relinquishes control over Wesley’s mouth. Angel sits up and for one second Wesley wonders what he’s done wrong. But before his stomach can sink Angel is yanking open buttons and tossing his shirt aside. Then he reaches for the edge of Wesley’s pull-over.


“This okay?” Angel asks.


Wesley gives him an incredulous look instead of dignifying it with words. 


Angel smirks. “Just checking,” he says, then leans in. He whispers, “I won’t always ask, ya know. One of these days I’m gonna rip your clothes off of you right there in your office.”


“But,” Wesley is surprised he can speak, “we’re currently still in today and I’m waiting for you to undress me. Do you need assistance?”


“That an offer to strip for me?” Angel teases. At least Wesley thinks he’s teasing.


But it doesn’t matter because Angel tugs and Wesley rises up enough to help and Wesley’s shirt is being flung to the floor as well. Wesley lies back and feels a moment of gratitude that they left the light in the corner on. It’s enough for the pale white skin of Angel’s chest to glow in, so smooth and flawless unlike Wesley’s own which is already marked with little scars. Nothing serious, but cuts and scrapes that never healed properly all the same.


Wesley becomes intensely aware that Angel is staring right back at him. He meets Angel’s eyes. And they both laugh. It is rather ridiculous. They’ve paused in the middle of everything, lips swollen from kissing and cocks swollen from blood that’s rushed south, and neither has moved for a full minute according to the clock on the bedside table.


It’s easy after that. Wesley is eager to have his hands back where they were. This time he does not mess around. He runs his fingers back and forth over Angel’s erect nipples, flicking and tweaking while Angel is kind enough to let him. For a while anyway. Then he’s bending down and returning the favor, licking and, yes, biting but only blunt human teeth.


His mouth travels up, face buried against the side of Wesley’s neck. They both go still again. Wesley brings a hand up to the back of Angel’s head. He just rests it there. He trusts Angel, who is breathing deeply and Wesley realizes he must be taking in the scent for there is no other purpose. It’s oddly… calming. It shows that Angel trusts him in return for the action isn’t quite human.


“Angel…” Wesley sighs.


Angel lifts his head. “Love it when you say my name like that.”


“I’m sure you’ll make me say it again tonight,” Wesley murmurs, caught up in Angel’s gaze.


“Yeah,” Angel agrees. Only because Wesley is watching so intently does he see the brown slip a shade closer to black. “Gonna make you scream it.”


Wesley can’t help it. He shivers. Angel smirks and asks, “Are you cold?”


“If I said I was?” Wesley plays along.


“Well then…” Angel’s fingers are walking so softly over Wesley’s chest, then his stomach, that it almost tickles. They reach the top button of Wesley’s trousers. “…I guess you wouldn’t want me to take these off.”


It’s an idle threat and they both know it. “We could move under the covers,” Wesley points out with what he thinks is great logic considering the throb between his legs.


“Could,” Angel agrees. “Maybe we should. But first…” His expression is serious now. “I think it’s time to get rid of the rest of these clothes.”


Wesley swallows. This is it. In less than a moment he will be naked in Angel’s bed. There really is no turning back from such a point, he thinks. And that’s such a relief that Wesley reaches for Angel’s belt and opens it in a move pulled off so smoothly Wesley is surprised it came from himself.


Angel blinks down at him and then he’s showing off his own speed. He’s off the bed, pulling off his jeans, tossing aside shoes and socks. Then he grabs Wesley’s too and in seconds they’re both back in the bed, in nothing but underwear.


There’s nothing but a thin layer of fabric separating their reaching cocks as they lay side by side together.


“Wanna see you,” Angel whispers as his fingers slip beneath the waistband around Wesley. “Touch you.”


“Please,” Wesley says, breathy and higher than his normal voice.


Angel watches him closely as he pulls down and down until Wesley can kick aside the offending material and reach to take care of the ones covering up Angel too. But Wesley didn’t count on Angel himself getting in the way. His fingers specifically. Just two of them. Making a line up Wesley’s cock, barely there by the time they reach the swollen head.


Wesley almost chokes. But he steadies himself onward and looks Angel in the eye, determined not to be stopped this time. He sneaks his hands under Angel’s underwear the same way Angel did his. Wesley is aware only of his breath caught in his throat and his heart pounding. But it’s not nerves. It’s the excitement of unwrapping the largest gift under the tree on Christmas morning.


And Angel is… there really is no word more suited than large, Wesley thinks. 


“Wes,” Angel groans, and it’s then that Wesley realizes his hands are resting on Angel’s hipbones, thumbs rubbing the skin there, inadvertently teasing inches away from where Angel wants to feel a touch.


Wesley smiles his apology, not feeling a bit sorry, and slips his hands down Angel’s thigh. He doesn’t start off slow. No two fingers only for Wesley. Wes has been waiting for this, longer than he realized, and he isn’t about to waste time now.


And… well… Angel hadn’t been wrong. Wesley was new to this. Completely. It wasn’t as if he’d never had a hand, his own and other’s, on his cock. He knows what to do. It’s just actually doing it that is a first and if Wesley stops to think about this fact his hands won’t be nearly as steady as he’s managing so far.


So Wesley wraps his fingers around the thick length that is Angel’s cock and holds it in his hand, getting used to the weight and the feel – not hot, but not cool either as Wesley might have expected. But then, it suddenly occurs to him, Angel is no longer cool at all. He must have soaked up enough of heat from Wesley to give the illusion of having his own body heat.


“You all right, Wes?” Angel asks, voice strained just slightly.


Wes is startled out of his thoughts and the gentle up and down motion his hand is making – probably much too slow for Angel. He looks up then back down at fingers flush against Angel’s cock and comes to a split-second decision.


“We’ve waited long enough,” Wesley breathes. “I want to be with you.”


“You’ve got me,” Angel promises, catching Wesley’s lips with his briefly.


“You know what I mean,” Wesley says.


Some of the tension in Angel lets itself be seen. Angel barely opens his mouth. “Say it for me, Wes.”


Wesley hesitates, but doesn’t stutter or stumble as he looks Angel in the eye and says much more calmly than he feels, “I want you to fuck me, Angel. Now.”


The room shifts and Wesley realizes he’s now on his back. Angel is on top of him, but reaching over to the far side of the bed. No, the bedside drawer, it seems. What-? Oh. Angel comes back with a small bottle and turns it upside down so that lubricant coats his fingers.


Wesley can’t let it go that easily. “You-” Now he struggles with getting the words out. “You keep that handy, do you?”


Angel smirks, shaking his head. “We kissed two week ago. Decided it wasn’t a mistake one week ago. After that I figured I should be ready, just in case.”


“Expectations?” Wesley can’t help but tease.


“Just hope,” Angel grins back.


Wesley loses his smile because nothing about this seems funny anymore, however, when Angel inches slick fingers down between his legs. Wes spreads them further, eager to show he has no hesitations. But he gasps when the pad of one fingers drags back over his balls, then back to a spot sensitive by nature and by a lifetime of being ignored.


Angel is watching him carefully. Wesley tries to smile reassuringly. “It’s okay, Wes,” Angel whispers. Does he mean that this, between them, will be okay? Or that Wesley does not have to worry about such matters as assuring Angel that everything will be fine?


Wesley loses the thought as Angel’s finger begins to move in a slow circle, growing tighter by the second until Wesley is ready to beg for something he’s never felt before, but is sure he can put a name to. He doesn’t have to, however. Angel is merciful and in seconds has slipped the tip of that same finger inside Wesley. After a second of getting used to the foreign sensation Wesley is moving the lower half of his body closer, urging Angel on. Angel pushes in deeper.


He slides that one slick finger back and forth, up and down. Wesley’s eyes flutter closed beneath the sensation, like sparks flaring all over his body. Angel adds another finger, so smoothly Wesley knows it’s happened only by the way it stretches him just a little further.


“I’m ready,” Wesley gasps as Angel rubs him inside. “Please, Angel.”


Angel looks ready to protest. Wes knows him well enough to guess there will be sadistic nights in the future when he’ll make Wesley wait far longer than this. But now one glace down tells Wesley that Angel is aching to be inside the tight heat Wesley’s body offers.


And Wesley hasn’t lied. He’s ready. Angel seems to think so too. He kneels between Wesley’s legs. He reaches for the abandoned bottle once more and holds it out to Wesley, who knows what’s being asked and wouldn’t dream of saying no. He squeezes some lubricant out onto his fingers and pushes himself up one elbow to reach Angel’s cock. Wesley once again wraps it up in his hands, slipping his fingers around with the sole purpose of slicking Angel up as best he can.


Wesley, always watching, sees Angel’s eyes flicker closed the same way Wesley hadn’t been able to keep his open as Angel pleasured him. A warmth settles in Wesley’s stomach at this knowledge, not that he needs the proof that Angel is enjoying this. Or rather, he has the proof in his hands.


When Angel’s cock is dark and shining, nice and slippery, Wesley lies back down. He watches Angel hover over him.


“How do you want this?” Angel asks like every word is being forced out between gritted teeth. But he’s still calm, still in control. Patience is a virtue Angel has perfected over the years. “Back or front?”


This is an easy answer. “I want to see your face.”


Angel gives Wesley an approving smile and there is that warmth again, intensified. Wesley feels Angel take one of his legs by the knee and bend it, adjusting Wesley’s position to what will work best for them. Wesley closes his eyes. Yes, he wants to watch. But there’s such a thing as too much and if Wesley doesn’t put a stop to some of the stimulation then this will come to an embarrassing early end.


His eyes fly open again as he feels Angel line up his cock and something round and blunt is nudging at the entrance to Wesley’s body. So much larger than fingers, Wesley thinks and can’t deny the flicker of nerves in his stomach. He isn’t afraid of pain. But this is meant to be all good, all right, and Wesley just can’t ignore that a part of it – even if only a physical part – feels wrong.


“Shh,” Angel hushes and Wesley’s heartbeat must be louder because how else could Angel know the thoughts were racing inside Wesley’s head?


“Angel, I- I do want this, I swear,” Wesley stumbles.


“I know,” Angel glances down at Wesley’s cock and the way it was leaking its desire. Angel tries to make light of it, bless him, Wesley thinks. “I got the message.”


“Good,” Wesley smiles back up at him, feeling his stomach unclench.


“Just keep breathing easy like that,” Angel instructs. And then Wesley feels pressure and the head of Angel’s cock is pushing into his resisting body, stretching him open. Wesley tries to keep still but his legs tremble. Angel has stopped. Just an inch, maybe two, rest inside Wesley. Angel looks almost pained, but he isn’t moving. He’s giving Wesley time to adjust.


Wesley tries moving again, this time with purpose. He wriggles against Angel, moving up and down. The discomfort is fading; still Wesley is disappointed he can’t quite call it a good sensation to have something inside him.


Angel apparently has decided the little movements Wesley is making are the last straw for his self control. He leans in, weight on his palms flat on the bed, and pushes his cock further in.


Wesley can’t breathe, but not from pain. Angel is inside him, thick and a steady pressure. Even as his erection wanes from something close to discomfort this is so very perfect that Wesley refuses to move and risk spoiling it. But Angel moves for him and something happens. Angel hits a spot in Wesley that he’d known existed only in theory until this point.


Just like that Wesley is rock hard again and he’s thrusting against Angel. “More,” Wesley gasps. “Angel, I had no idea—It’s so—” Once again words are failing him.


But Angel doesn’t seem to mind. “Talk later, Wes,” he groans and begins to move in earnest. Wesley returns the motion as best he can under the weight of Angel. He pushes when Angel pulls back and he grinds his hips upwards, his cock begging for the friction Angel’s stomach offers when he bends closer, close enough to kiss Wesley so deep and long Wes gasps for air afterwards.


“Angel, Angel,” Wesley is panting, that one word all that is left in his vocabulary.


“I know,” Angel grits out. One hand lifts up then slams down next to Wesley again, closer to his head, jerking Angel forward and pushing him deeper. The other hand goes between them. It finds Wesley’s cock with no trouble and strokes back and forth just like the movements in and nearly out of Wesley’s body.


Release from the tension holding every muscle in Wesley’s body captive is coming. He can feel it, building up inside until his body tenses to the breaking point in a snap of movement, freezing. The dark behind Wesley’s eyelids goes bright white. Words, no confusion or hesitation about them, are on the tip of Wesley’s tongue again but it’s too soon for them. He loses himself in the physical sensation, forgetting everything else this time. Angel’s hand keeps working him, squeezing every last drop of come out.


A few last spasms work their way through Wesley’s body. Angel’s thrusts have slowed. They’re a gentle rocking motion now. But when Wesley opens his eyes Angel is looking at him as if wanting to memorize every feature because this is an artist’s expression across his face, shadowed eyes and furrowed brow and serious mouth line. And lurking underneath is something too close to pain.


Angel can barely speak as he asks, his turn to stumble over words, “Wes, can I—? I need to—?”


Wesley is confused before he realizes this is a misguided attempt at courtesy. Angel thinks perhaps Wesley will wish him to stop now. That one coming is enough to end this for both of them. “Finish,” Wesley whispers.


Angel takes the permission to heart. He groans and slams into Wesley, nothing gentle about it this time. It’s only seconds before Wesley can feel his body tighten up and Angel push as close as he can get, then the feel of Angel’s release spurting inside him.


Without his cock to think about, it’s possibly even better. Wesley can watch, can feel every sensation, can have a chance at memorizing exactly what it feels like to be joined so completely with the man he’s fallen in love with.


Angel is actually breathing. Panting describes it better. Wesley makes a note to ask him if he’s aware of the habit at some other time. For now he’s reaching for Angel, pulling him down, stroking the back of his head and then his back as Angel once more buries his face against Wesley’s neck. They lie together in the quiet and forget there’s a world outside the room they’re in.


When Angel finally pulls out Wesley’s now overly sensitized skin is briefly lit up with fresh fire and Wesley moans softly, but he’s content to roll onto his side next to Angel. Angel isn’t content to have him there though. He lies on his back and pulls Wesley to him, to rest against his shoulder.


There are things Wesley wishes to say now his heart has returned to its normal pace. Things about how it went rather well for a first, didn’t it? And that Angel was more than Wesley could have hoped for, so kind and generous. And by the way, when could they do it again?


But Wesley keeps his mouth shut. He doesn’t disturb the peace. After all, it’s something he knows Angel so rarely gets. Instead Wesley closes his eyes and with a last contented hum lets himself begin to drift to sleep, confident that he will have many more firsts with Angel.