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For One Night Only

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Beta thanks to psychoadept, zortified, and brenantrim!

 

Wesley wasn't entirely sure what he was doing here.

No, that was a lie. He'd gone there for the same reason that every other... being... was there: he needed help. He needed to know why he was in Los Angeles. He needed to know if he even had a destiny anymore after being fired from his life's work. He'd journeyed across half the continent on a motorcycle in search of something new, only to end up a few hours' drive from the site of his greatest failures in the company of two of the very people who had witnessed it all. It had been a hell of a year, and the more he tried to make sense of it all the more confused he felt.

He'd heard rumours about this place. Fantastic, really; the idea of a sanctuary, a place where humans, demons, and vampires could peacefully co-exist. Or at least, not massacre one another. Wesley imagined some of the stuffier members of the Council arriving here at Caritas and the heart attacks they would likely suffer as a result, and that rather cheered him up.

He wished he didn't have to sing, though. Karaoke, of all things! In front of everyone! He'd have to be drunk out of his mind, but then the night was young. He sipped his drink nervously and tried to think of the shortest song he knew that might possibly be in the little karaoke machine on the stage. He suddenly wished he'd listened to more popular music.

"Well, hello dark and dangerous."

Wesley looked up from his drink. A demon was standing at his table, complete with green skin, red eyes, and a small pair of horns. It was the brightly-coloured leisure suit which startled Wesley, though.

"You must be the Host," Wesley said. Years of habit made him hold out his hand, not wanting to be rude, even to a demon. Especially if said demon kept the peace that prevented the fearsome and extremely carnivorous Hashka demons a few tables over from eating him alive. "Merl mentioned you."

The Host smiled a wide smile, and shook Wesley's hand firmly. To Wesley's surprise, the palm of the Host's hand was soft and dry, like a human's. A line of spots ran along his wrist and presumably up his arm. Wesley firmly told himself not to stare.

"And how is our tongueless blackbird?" asked the Host. He let go of Wesley's hand and sat down next to him.

"What? Oh. Ah, he's fine."

"Good to hear." The Host raised his arm and gestured to a waiter. "Another sea breeze, Juan, darling."

Wesley had met a fair number of demons since arriving in this country, but he'd never met a demon like this. He couldn't even identify the Host's species, which was extremely unusual. Of course, he didn't have his books here in L.A., and even if he did it would be terribly improper to start poring over volumes in the Host's own club. Then again, the red hair might be the result of his hairdresser rather than lineage, which would widen the field to include the Indian subcontinent...

"I'm not from around here," said the Host.

"Oh! I, ah, I didn't mean..." Wesley stammered, then frowned. "I thought... don't I have to sing for you to read me?"

"Read you?" The Host laughed. "Honey, the way you were looking at me? Any girl would be flattered by the attention."

Wesley felt terribly embarrassed. This had been a mistake, he could see that now. He'd just finish his drink and excuse himself and--

"Whoa there," the Host said. "I haven't even gotten my sea breeze yet. Juan, my beautiful!"

The waiter, who Wesley had to admit was rather attractive, walked over and handed the Host a pink-filled glass. The Host sipped happily at it.

"So, ah," Wesley began. "Caritas is very... popular."

"You should see the place on Tuesdays. Nestmates drink free. Last week I completely ran out of mucus!"

Wesley tried not to grimace. He quickly changed the topic. "And you use some sort of spell to prevent demon violence? It must be very powerful."

The Host waved his hand. "Nah, these guys are a bunch of sweeties. They wouldn't hurt a fly. I just make sure nobody gets the munchies and starts nibbling on their neighbour."

Wesley eyed the Hashkas again, sceptically. He was fairly sure that flies were among the many who were hurt when Hashka packs pillaged and consumed small Russian villages, if some of the dustier volumes of the Watchers' Chronicles were to be believed. The size of their razor-sharp tusks certainly supported the Watcher version of events.

Wesley cleared his throat. "Good," he said. "Good. Well."

"You're up," the Host said. Wesley frowned. Up? Then the Host gestured to the stage.

"Oh, bugger," Wesley whispered. He wasn't nearly ready for this. But with the Host's red eyes upon him, he couldn't back down. He walked over to the karaoke machine, paged through the options until the first familiar song appeared, pressed it, and walked into the spotlight. The sound of the Beatles' "Help" began to play in bland synthesizer tones.

Wesley looked out at the audience and cleared his throat. He could do this. He had to do this. How else was he going to find out if he was really supposed to be here, in Los Angeles of all places, assisting a vampire with a soul and a sort-of-ex-girlfriend who'd inherited visions from the higher powers? He began to sing and tried not to let his voice crack. Much.

He was so nervous he missed the introduction.

"When I was... younger," he read off the karaoke screen. "So much younger than today, I never needed anybody's help in any way. But now these days are gone, I'm not so self assured. Now I find I've changed my mind and opened up the doors."

He felt more confident on the chorus, so he let his eyes drift up from the screen to sneak a glance at Host. The spotlights upon Wesley made the rest of the club look dim and smoky, but the Host's red eyes seemed to glow as they watched him. When Wesley had been a Watcher, he had never expected to end up in a place like this, hoping a demon would help him. Since he'd been fired, he'd found himself constantly surprised by life. The very nature of his chosen profession, that of a rogue demon hunter, actually required him to spend much of his time in the underworld, full of scoundrels and stool pigeons. To track a demon, Wesley had to acquire information from the demon's compatriots; such information was best obtained through methods other than violence.

"And now my life has changed in oh so many ways. My independence seems to vanish in the haze. But every now and then I feel so insecure, I know that I just need you like I've never done before. "

He'd become accustomed to trading with the less hostile species, rather than indiscriminately killing them as he'd been trained. He'd more or less decided to stay in Los Angeles, so he'd cultivated demon contacts, investigated the demon community. It was strange how decent certain demons could be, especially the ones who had found ways to co-exist with humanity. This Host fellow was one of the most friendly he'd met yet. Courteous, even! Wesley continued to watch the Host while he sang, no longer needing to follow the little bouncing ball above the displayed Beatles lyrics.

"Now I find I've changed my mind and opened up the doors."

Suddenly Wesley felt exposed. He dropped his eyes back to the screen and hurried through the last chorus as quickly as the music would allow.

"Won't you please, please help me, help me, help me," Wesley trailed off. The audience applauded with mild disinterest. Oh well, at least no one had tried to eat him. He put down the microphone, relieved it was over. He wiped his damp palms on his slacks, then hurried back to his table. The Host had thoughtfully had Juan refresh Wesley's drink.

"So, um," Wesley began. He glanced up at the Host, hoping that having already sung he wouldn't actually have to speak anymore.

"I see you're not from around here either," said the Host. "And you're wondering if this is where you're supposed to be."

Wesley nodded.

"Well, my little lamb, you've already got your feet on the ground. I think what you should be asking yourself is if you like the ground."

Wesley frowned. "But, if this is where I'm supposed to be..."

"Oh, L.A.'s the place, no doubt about it. I'm rather fond of it myself. Glamour, adventure, all that shine and sparkle. But it's not location that you're concerned about, is it?"

"No," said Wesley. "I'm worried... that is, I don't quite know... the work I thought I would be doing, it's not quite how I've ended up, you see."

"And it's bothering you that the best thing you've done with your life so far seems to be helping out a vampire."

Wesley gaped. "How did you... I'm sorry, that's a stupid question."

The Host waved it off. "Nah, I get that all the time. Comes with the territory. The point is, you know it's good work. You've helped out, what, a few times now? Saved lives, all that good stuff?"

"Yes," Wesley said, certain on that at least.

"It's not the interspecies prejudice, is it? That is so sad in this day and age."

"No no, absolutely not," Wesley said, shaking his head. "He's a good man, er, vampire."

"Then stop your worrying and follow your heart." The Host peered at Wesley, then leaned forward. "Or perhaps that's your problem. Our lost lamb is a little lovesick."

Wesley looked down at his drink, turning the glass in circles so he'd have something to do with his hands. This Host fellow saw far more than Wesley was comfortable with, and more than could possibly be relevant. His silly little fancies were of no importance; why would the Host even bother with them?

"Got a crush on the handsome hero, eh? You got your embers stoked by an old flame, too. And..." the Host looked at him again, tilting his head in thought. "You naughty boy, you. Madame Dorian's!"

Wesley felt himself redden with embarrassment. He covered his face with his hands. "Oh, God."

The Host put a comforting hand on his arm. "There there, sweetie. I don't judge. You were curious."

"I should go," Wesley said into his hands.

"So you let loose a little. No harm done. Cute thing like you, finally out on your own. No surprise you were looking for a taste of something wild."

Wesley decided he would quite like to sink under the floor. He'd come here to find his destiny, not to relive his lurid sexual encounters. "Are you quite finished?"

"Not as much as I'd like to be," said the Host. "Oh! But I've said too much."

Wesley stood and tried to stop blushing long enough to look stern. "Do you make a habit of coming on to people who ask for your help?"

"Only when they've been eyeing me up for the past half-hour."

Wesley opened his mouth to deny the accusation, but found himself shutting it just as quickly. He'd been looking, and more than required for a simple species identification. He should never have visited that blasted demon brothel.

The tables around them broke into applause as two well-dressed humans walked into the spotlight and began to sing a country duet.

"That's my cue," said the Host. "You run along now. If you want me, you know where to find me. Oh, and drink's on the house, handsome." The Host winked at Wesley, then turned away to watch the performance.

Wesley stood and stared at the Host all the way through the first verse, then turned tail and hurried out of the club. He'd have to tell Merl to find another place to meet, because Wesley couldn't bear to show his face in Caritas ever again.

 

~

 

Well, well, look who's back.

Lorne leaned against the bar and watched his man of mystery inch his way to a table, probably trying to talk himself out of every step. For all that Lorne had read during his little serenade last night, he had never got his name.

Lorne didn't generally make a habit of coming on to his guests. But there was something rather delicious about this one. His sexual fantasies were almost as attractive as the tangle of desires he'd knotted himself into. Lorne knew the type: he just wants somebody to love, oh he needs somebody to love. Kept looking in all the wrong places, too. The pop song almost wrote itself.

It wasn't just the music that Lorne loved about this dimension; it was the people. All kinds of humans came to his club, and when they sang they poured out their lives to him. Humanity was an endless variety of hopes and dreams, selfishness and self-sacrifice, far more entertaining than the dreary simplicity of his own people. And Lorne had a front-row view for all of it.

Tall, dark, and nervous settled himself down at his private little corner table, which suited Lorne just fine.

"Freshen my sea breeze, would you Rico?" he said, holding his glass up for the bartender.

He sipped his drink and gave the guy some time to stew. Lorne might be taking advantage a little, but he didn't want to take a lot. Once enough time had passed that his admirer wasn't likely to get cold feet, Lorne waltzed over and made himself comfortable.

"Hello again," Lorne said. "I didn't expect to see you here so soon. Got another song in your heart?"

"I, ah, no," he stammered, not quite meeting Lorne's eyes. "No," he repeated. "I didn't come to sing."

"Still curious, are we?" Lorne asked.

The man bit his lip and looked up. He had the most lovely baby-blues. Behind all the uncertainty in them there was a fire that Lorne really wanted to feel.

"Good," said Lorne. "I like curious."

That got him a little smile and a little chuckle. Lorne reached out and slowly ran his finger along the man's hand, evoking an inviting little gasp. The man's eyes followed Lorne's finger as it traced the sensitive skin of his wrist. Lorne could feel the man's pulse racing under his touch. He might not be able to read his own future in anyone's aura, but Lorne could see that tonight would go very well indeed.

"Not to be forward," Lorne said, "but I didn't get your name last night."

For a moment Lorne thought he might be given an alias--it wouldn't be the first time--but then the man seemed to change his mind. "Wesley," he said.

"Well then, Wesley," Lorne said. "What do you say we go slip into something more comfortable?"

"Yes," Wesley said. "Please. I'd like that."

"Polite and charming. Aren't you just a regular Cary Grant."

Wesley laughed and shook his head. Lorne stood and kept his hand on Wesley, stroking along his arm and across his shoulders. He brushed his fingers lightly against Wesley's neck before breaking contact. Wesley shivered.

Lorne leaned down. "Follow me, gorgeous," he murmured, then walked towards the back. He nodded to Rico as they passed the bar, signalling for him to handle things for the rest of the night.

They left the noises and lights of Caritas behind them. Lorne closed the bedroom door and turned to Wesley. "Drink?" he asked, walking over to his private bar.

Wesley nodded. "Whiskey, please."

Lorne filled two glasses, then sat down next to Wesley on the stools. Wesley took his whiskey and sipped it, watching Lorne over the rim of the glass.

"Not to be forward myself, but I don't believe I caught your name," Wesley said.

"That's because I didn't throw it, honey," Lorne said. Wesley started to frown, missing the joke. "Call me Lorne."

"Lorne," Wesley said, relaxing a little. "Unusual name for a demon. Is it short for something?"

"Nothing that would fit on a marquee," Lorne said. He sipped his own drink, then set it aside. Wesley did the same, following Lorne's lead for the moment. "You know the best thing about spending the night with an anagogic demon?"

Wesley blinked. "Um, no?"

"Nobody has to worry about small talk."

A slow smile spread across Wesley's face, and he chuckled. "Yes, that is a benefit. I'm sure it's of great evolutionary advantage."

Lorne slid to his feet and moved close to Wesley. "That's not the only thing."

Wesley kept his eyes locked on Lorne's as the space between them narrowed. "Really?"

"Definitely," Lorne said, leaning down. He brushed his lips against Wesley's, light as a feather.

"Fascinating," breathed Wesley. "I think you'll have to show me..." He closed the space between them and kissed Lorne, half-hesitant and half-daring. "...your advantages," he finished, breathily.

"You show me yours..." Lorne leaned in again, and this time the kiss was a lot less hesitant and a lot more daring. Wesley wrapped his arms around Lorne's waist and stood, not breaking the kiss. Lorne did some touching of his own, feeling the very nice body beneath Wesley's loose-fitting suit.

"First thing we need to do," Lorne said between kisses, "is get you out of this outfit."

Wesley pulled back, a little hurt. "What's wrong with my suit?"

"Nothing good pair of scissors couldn't fix, sweetpea. But the only problem I see is that it's hiding all that lovely pink skin." Lorne ran his finger down Wesley's cheek, then hooked Wesley's tie with it and worked the knot loose.

"Oh," Wesley said. He leaned in and resumed their kissing.

Lorne pulled Wesley's tie free and tossed it towards the bed. "We'll need that for later," he said, smirking. Wesley moaned, obviously liking the idea.

"I think we need to get you out of yours as well," Wesley said. He worked at Lorne's buttons with one hand, the other still wrapped around Lorne's waist. "All that lovely green, yes?"

They made their way to the bed, a trail of clothes littering the floor behind them. Lorne made sure to save their belts for later, tossing them to join Wesley's tie. They were down to their boxers by the time the backs of Lorne's legs hit the bed. He let himself fall back onto the mattress, pulling Wesley down with him.

They rolled over in the bed, exploring playfully, kissing constantly. When they stopped, Wesley was on top. He pushed himself up on his arms, skin flushed and lips swollen. He reached out and touched the spots that dotted Lorne's shoulders and chest. Lorne lay back and allowed Wesley to explore the unfamiliar territory. The intense fascination in his eyes made every touch of those long fingers all the hotter.

Wesley worked his way down Lorne's body, touching and tasting. When he reached the silk boxers, he paused, caressing the skin just above the waistband. After a moment Lorne realized that Wesley needed some encouragement. He took Wesley's hand and guided it beneath the silk to wrap around his cock. A little push and Wesley's hand was stroking gently around the shaft. Wesley stared, entranced at the movement of their hands beneath the fabric.

"Just like that," Lorne breathed.

Wesley reached up with his other hand and tugged at Lorne's waistband. "I want to see," he said, still transfixed. Lorne raised his hips and helped Wesley pull down the boxers. Lorne's cock was hardening quickly under Wesley's touch. Freed of constraints it curved half-upright.

"It's different," Wesley said. He touched it carefully, tracing the length. "It tapers more than a human's, and the skin..." He rubbed the skin in little circles, which made Lorne bite his lip. "The texture is fascinating."

"And that little motion there is just perfect," Lorne moaned. He pressed Wesley's fingers against his cock, urging him to press harder. "Right against the sides. Oh, yeah."

Lorne showed Wesley some of the finer points of Pylean physiology: the long, thin ridges along the sides of his cock, which felt exquisite when Wesley rubbed his thumb across them; the soft underside that swelled and hardened under Wesley's touch, that curved his cock more sharply than any human's. Wesley was a fast learner. Lorne reached down and rubbed the bulge under Wesley's plain cotton boxers. Wesley bucked forward into his hand, then reached back and hurriedly pulled off his boxers. He crawled up Lorne's body and kissed him as they began to stroke each other.

"Tell me about that night," Lorne said, rubbing his thumb against the head of Wesley's cock. He moved the foreskin back and forth, slowly increasing the pressure until Wesley bucked forward.

"Which night?" Wesley asked. His eyes were closed as he concentrated on their mutual pleasures.

"Madame Dorian's."

Wesley's eyes opened, and his hands faltered. "I don't... I'm not sure..."

Lorne reached back and rubbed at the base of Wesley's cock. Wesley moaned. "Who did you see? Was it Cherise? Maria?"

Wesley shook his head. "Elsie," he admitted breathlessly. "I think she was--ooh, yes--a Trimeni."

Lorne could feel the lust rippling through Wesley's aura. Lorne focused on it, wanting more, and flashes of Wesley's memories rushed through him. "Oh, those are lovely creatures. In the right light, their skin shimmers like butterfly wings."

"She was beautiful," Wesley said, remembering. "I'd never seen anything like her. The way she moved, with a predator's grace. If we'd met anywhere else I'd have been her dinner."

"I bet she ate you up all the same. With that long, talented tongue of hers." Lorne felt Wesley's cock twitch as the memories stimulated him further.

"Oh Lord, yes. And..." Wesley trailed off.

"And?" Lorne prompted. Wesley shook his head and moved his hands faster on Lorne's cock. A wave of arousal washed over Lorne as Wesley's memories intensified, and he revelled in it before continuing.

"She used more than--mmm--more than her tongue, didn't she?" Lorne said. He kissed Wesley deeply, tasting him. So delicious, this kid. Lorne moved his fingers further between Wesley's legs and pressed. "She used her tail."

"Oh God," Wesley moaned and bucked against Lorne's fingers.

Lorne pushed inside with one finger, just deep enough to tease. "That's what you want. A little demon inside you."

Wesley was pushing back in earnest, asking for more in every way but words. His cock was so hard it bobbed against his stomach. Lorne pulled his hands away, then eased Wesley's hands from his own cock.

"Please," Wesley begged, rutting himself against Lorne's hip. "Please, yes."

Lorne pushed Wesley off and guided him to lie down on the bed. "Shh," he said, stroking Wesley's cheek. "Just relax."

Lorne scooted over to the bedside table and pulled a few necessities from the drawer. Preparation was a wonderful thing. He returned to Wesley's side and stroked the sensitive skin of his thighs. Wesley bent his legs, spreading them wide for Lorne's touch.

"Beautiful," Lorne murmured. Wesley shivered, and clutched at the sheets. Lorne stroked his cock, working his way down to his balls, and then the skin behind them. Coarse hair tickled Lorne's fingers as he caressed the sensitive areas it covered. Humans were delightfully touchable, silky-smooth compared to other demons with their spikes and scales.

Lorne warmed some lube in his hand, then pushed his slick fingers inside of Wesley's ass. Wesley took a sharp breath, then let it out slowly as he became accustomed to Lorne's touch. Lorne readied him, pushing inside until Wesley arched and moaned. Lorne leant down and kissed him, hard, and gave his cock a quick tug as he drew back.

Wesley watched, eyes dark, as Lorne prepared himself. He reached out a hand to help push the condom up Lorne's length, and that made things very hard indeed. Then Wesley held out his hand and Lorne poured some lube into it, and Lorne bit his lip as Wesley slicked him.

Both cried out in pleasure as Lorne began to push himself inside of Wesley. He sank in slowly, thrusting a bit to ease his way in. He breathed endearments as his cock moved deeper inside: "So sweet, so good, oh Wesley, mmm." Wesley's legs wrapped tight around his waist, urging him on. Wesley arched below him, sweat dotting his brow. His cheeks were flushed pink with arousal.

And then Lorne was fully sheathed inside of Wesley, and they froze as one. Wesley cried out again, body trembling. Lorne kissed him, tasting the sheen of sweat on his skin. Then he slowly began to thrust.

"Harder," Wesley said.

"My pleasure," Lorne replied, and increased his pace. Wesley moaned his appreciation, meeting his thrusts eagerly. Lorne could feel how good it was for Wesley as Wesley's feelings were fed back to him.

Wesley ran his hands over Lorne's body, touching him anywhere he could reach. He seemed to be looking for something, though Lorne wasn't sure what. Then Wesley rubbed his thumb along the base of Lorne's horn, which pretty much shorted out Lorne's brain and whoa, how did Wesley know to do that? When Lorne came back to himself he was pounding frantically into Wesley, and Wesley was keening with pleasure. Lorne reached between them and managed a few rough strokes of Wesley's cock, but he couldn't keep his balance and had to stop.

Wesley rubbed under his horns again and Lorne moved faster and faster and then he was coming, the world fading away as the sensations overwhelmed him. He screamed a crescendo of notes and collapsed, panting heavily.

It was few minutes before he could manage words again. He moved against Wesley, rubbing Wesley's cock between their bodies. Wesley clenched around him.

"You're still hard," Wesley said, sounding surprised.

"You bet I am, cowboy," Lorne said, giving a little thrust. "My people may not know the Beatles from Black Sabbath but we've got fantastic stamina. As I'm sure you'll appreciate."

Wesley clenched around him again, encouraging him. "This would be the--ah!--evolutionary advantage?"

"Top ten hit," Lorne said, leaning down to bite lightly at Wesley's nipple. Now that the edge was off, he could concentrate on the lovely body laid out before him. He shifted until he found a position that would allow him to keep his hands free and still give Wesley that bit of demon he craved, then worked on finding ways to drive Wesley crazy. That little trick with his horns deserved some payback.

Lorne stroked his skin, paying special attention to the sensitive areas on his sides and under his arms. Humans had wonderfully delicate skin there, so fine and soft. He kissed Wesley's neck and worked his way down to his chest. He pinched Wesley's nipples, and that got a beautiful reaction. But he knew what would really drive Wesley crazy. He leaned down and nibbled at Wesley's ear, then whispered:
"I saw your fantasies when you sang."

Wesley moaned, and his cock twitched. Lorne approved, and continued.

"You can't get that kiss out of your mind. Every time you walk into the room and she's there you want her to press herself against you. You want to taste her lips, feel those firm young breasts, those perfect curves."

"Yes," Wesley hissed. "Oh God."

Lorne continued, thrusting harder as he spoke. "You imagine walking up to her and taking her, right in the middle of the office. Right on her desk. Her body arching beneath you, soft and warm and wet inside. Welcoming you."

Wesley shuddered, and Lorne reached down and wrapped his fingers around the base of Wesley's cock, not wanting him to come too soon.

"And that's not all you want. Your dark hero, oh, now there's a pretty picture. You want to wrap yourself around him, want him to take you. Fuck you in his bed, all lean muscle and dark eyes. That cool skin pressing against you, cock warming inside you. Almost as if he wasn't real, except that he's touching you, kissing you."

"Please," Wesley gasped. Lorne sped his pace.

"Deep down, you want them both. When you sleep, you dream you're between them, lost in them. Nothing in you but what they put there."

"No, I..." Wesley said, shaking his head. "It wouldn't be..."

"Proper? Oh honey, you may not remember your dreams, but your body does." Lorne moaned as a subconscious image surfaced in Wesley's mind. "Walking in on them together, naked and joined. They draw apart but only long enough to bring you in between them. Hands guiding you to sink inside of her, to suckle at her breast. And then his strong arms holding you down, holding you open as he pushes inside you, his cool body full of stolen heat."

Wesley bucked his hips, seeking release, but Lorne would not loosen his grip.

"And some nights, you want what's always been forbidden. What's so very dangerous."

"Oh God," cried Wesley.

"You want him to bite you, don't you, Wesley? Sink his teeth in and--" Lorne leaned down and bit at Wesley's neck, and released his grip on Wesley's cock only to stroke it roughly in time with his thrusts. Wesley screamed, body spasming under Lorne's touch. He clenched tight around Lorne's cock, his come slicking their bellies. Lorne kept thrusting, riding out the waves that made Wesley shudder and keen.

Lorne stroked Wesley's brow, soothing him as he came back to himself. When Wesley's eyes opened, they were glazed with lust. Lorne stayed inside of him until Wesley's breathing slowed to normal, then he pulled out. Wesley whimpered a little, then reached out to touch Lorne, wanting to stay in contact.

"Relax, handsome. I won't be a minute." Lorne removed the condom and wiped himself clean. He was still hard, but that was fine. He had further plans for tonight, and from the passion that burned bright in Wesley's eyes, he was sure Wesley would be up for them.

In more ways than one.

"That was..." Wesley began, then trailed off. Poor dear was struck speechless.

"Wonderful?" Lorne supplied.

"Wonderful," Wesley agreed. "Come here, I want to kiss you."

Lorne obliged. Wesley was recovering quickly, and soon they were tumbling in the sheets again.

"You're still hard," Wesley repeated, stroking Lorne's cock.

"Mm hm," Lorne said. He lay back, expectantly, and was very pleased when Wesley moved to take care of him.

Wesley stroked Lorne's cock with his hand, using that circular motion that Lorne liked. Then he leaned down and licked carefully, tongue darting out in little motions. Lorne reached down and stroked Wesley's neck, encouraging him. Wesley responded by licking and nibbling his way up and down Lorne's cock.

Lorne spread his legs to give Wesley more room to work. Wesley shifted so he could take the head of Lorne's cock into his mouth. He licked and sucked at it, gripping the base with his hand.

"Did anyone ever tell you that you're very good at this?" Lorne asked, feeling content.

Wesley just smiled mysteriously and took Lorne's length into his mouth.

"Oh yeah, that's... oh!" Lorne ran his fingers through Wesley's hair as Wesley sucked, the action hollowing his cheeks. "Oh honey," he moaned.

Wesley rubbed at the hard base of Lorne's cock, thumbed across the ridges. After all the stimulation he'd already had tonight, Lorne only lasted a few minutes before Wesley's talents finished him off. Wesley swallowed, and a surprised look flickered across his face. Lorne pulled him up for a kiss, and they cuddled together, legs intertwined.

"You're sweet," Wesley said.

"And you're darling," Lorne said.

Wesley rolled his eyes. "I didn't mean that. Though that too. And... thank you."

They lay together for a while, touching each other gently. Their kisses were soft, satisfied. Then Wesley propped himself up on his elbow and looked at Lorne. Then he looked down at Lorne's cock, and back up again.

"That's one hell of an advantage," Wesley observed.

"Don't I know it," Lorne said, smirking. Then he reached behind him and grabbed something from the bedside table. He trailed Wesley's tie along his arm. Wesley smiled back at him.

"The night is young," Lorne said.


Wesley woke the next morning in a tangle of sheets and limbs. He was wrapped around Lorne's back, and was embarrassed to find he had been drooling on Lorne's shoulder. He wiped Lorne's shoulder with the edge of his sheet, and Lorne stirred. He turned over, yawning and rubbing his face. His red eyes peered blearily up at Wesley.

"Hello, dark and dangerous," Lorne said, smiling sleepily.

"I think we've had this conversation before," Wesley said. "I don't have to sing again, do I?"

Lorne laughed. "No, sweetie. I think I saw enough of you last night."

Wesley ducked his head, remembering some of the more adventurous moments from the night before. Then he frowned. "Enough?"

"Wesley, sweetie, it is too early in the morning for the destiny conversation. At least let it wait until after breakfast."

Wesley nodded, but the glorious afterglow had begun to fade under his worries. He lay back against the pillows and pulled the sheets up around him.

Lorne sighed and sat up. "You do worry too much, you know that? Food first, destiny later." He gave Wesley a quick kiss and then rolled out of bed. He put on a robe and slippers and shuffled into the next room. After a while, Wesley smelled coffee.

Wesley wrapped the sheet into an impromptu toga and made his way to the small kitchen. Lorne was making toast and jam. Wesley's stomach rumbled as he sat down at the table. He suddenly remembered that he'd skipped dinner last night; partly because he was nervous, but mostly because he couldn't afford it. His budget was becoming precariously lean, especially after rent, clothing, and weaponry expenses. Life as a rogue demon hunter didn't pay very well, and the upkeep was dear. He just hoped he could last a little longer before he was forced to sell his motorcycle. Something would turn up, eventually.

Lorne set down a mug of coffee and a plate full of toast. Wesley dug into it eagerly, his hunger overcoming his desire to wait until Lorne's food was also ready. It was amazing how much better food tasted when he hadn't had any for a while. He was licking the crumbs off his fingers when Lorne sat down next to him.

"Somebody's a little peckish," Lorne said.

"Sorry," Wesley said, wiping his hands on his napkin. "I was just--"

"Starving? Migrating birds could hear your stomach rumbling, sweetie. I know last night was big on the exertion but this is more than that."

Wesley sipped his coffee and avoided Lorne's eyes. "Things are tight. I'll be fine."

"Yeah, you will be."

The sureness in Lorne's voice made Wesley look up in surprise. "Oh. Good," he sighed, relieved at the assurance.

"But in the meantime, you've got to treat yourself a little better." Lorne reached over and stroked Wesley's arm comfortingly. "We don't want you wasting away."

Wesley just looked back at him.

"Oh sweetie," Lorne said. "You're a darling. You're cute, you're lovable, you're so hot you break my thermometer. But your future isn't in my bed."

"I suppose not," Wesley said, sadly. It had been so nice to be with someone who understood him, and the sex had been fantastic. But Lorne was right; it wasn't meant to be anything more than a wonderful night together. How could a rogue demon hunter love a demon?

"Cheer up, buckaroo," Lorne said, touching Wesley's cheek. "Let me see that million dollar grin."

Wesley managed a little half-smile. Lorne clucked his tongue.

"The massage was excellent," Wesley said, trying to cheer up. "I probably wouldn't be able to walk straight this morning if you hadn't done it."

"That's the spirit. Now, come on, I'll make you some more toast, fill up that hungry beast you've got in your belly."

After breakfast, Wesley found all the parts of his rumpled suit and dressed. The tie, he decided, was better left behind as a memento. It certainly wasn't wearable anymore. Lorne fussed over his wrinkled clothes and combed Wesley's hair with his fingers. Wesley put up a token protest, but it felt nice to be fussed over.

Lorne walked him to the door. He held out a small wad of bills and pressed it into Wesley's hands. "Go get yourself a sandwich. Something filling. Please, for me?"

"All right," Wesley said. He would spend half of it on food. The rest would have to go towards expenses, but he would have enough for two meals today instead of one. Along with the toast that was the full set of square meals.

"And bring those friends of yours next time you're around. They seem like nice folks."

"I will," Wesley promised. "I'll be back."

"I know you will, sweetie." Lorne tapped his forehead. "Remember?"

Wesley looked fondly at him. "I doubt I'll ever forget."

Lorne leaned in and kissed him. It was a quiet kiss, but it echoed the passion of their night together. "I won't either. And not just because you left behind that poor tie."

Wesley smiled, despite himself.

"That's my boy. Now take care of yourself, okay?"

"I will."

Wesley walked up the stairs to the exit and made his way outdoors. It was a bright, sunny day, full of potential. Wesley started his motorcycle, shifting in his seat as he was still a bit sore, and began the ride home. His thoughts wandered, as they inevitably did since his arrival in Los Angeles, back to Angel Investigations.

Those thoughts brought him back to Lorne's words from last night, and he blushed under his helmet.

Wesley's impossible fantasies aside, he cared deeply for Cordelia, and felt a great respect for Angel. They'd worked together, fighting evil, and perhaps they were truly becoming friends. Cordelia had told him she trusted him with her life. The memory, only days old, warmed something deep in Wesley's heart.

In fact, Cordelia had invited him to her upcoming party. Wesley doubted he'd know anyone there aside from Cordelia and Angel, and of course Dennis, but it still sounded like a jolly good time.

Wesley had a destiny, and he was going to find it. But first, he felt like dancing.