TITLE: Library Porn: Say Biblioteque Again, Baby
AUTHORS: Nestra and Shrift
RATING: R for m/m slash
SUMMARY: Wesley and Gunn go to the library to do
research, and by research, we mean...
SPOILERS: Angel at least through Epiphany.
DISCLAIMERS: The boys are owned by people/entities
like Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy... Res owns her
birthday. Nestra and Shrift own their ability to do
gay porn fanfic improv.
ARCHIVES: Yes to list archives, others please ask.
AUTHORS’ NOTES: Nestra and Shrift discovered it was
Resonant’s birthday. Nestra weaseled out a request
for Wes/Gunn in the library with a candlestick and Mr.
Peacock -- er, never mind. Resonant’s pressie came to
life through a rapid ICQ session. Next year, maybe
they’ll do some Fraser/Kowalski.
FEEDBACK: Send via firstname.lastname@example.org and
LIBRARY PORN: Say Biblioteque Again, Baby
by Nestra and Shrift
The shelves extended for meters, filled with rows of
neatly shelved, carefully bound books.
Wesley was in thrall.
He inhaled and closed his eyes, tasting the musky
scent of old leather and dust on his tongue. When
Gunn walked up behind him, he murmured, "I had no idea
the public library possessed so many foreign language
books on the occult."
"Your tax dollars at work, man."
Wesley only distantly heard the words, still caught up
in the comforting, familiar smells of the books. He
opened his eyes and took another step forward, then
reached out a hand to run down the spine nearest. He
tilted his head to read the title, fingers caressing
the uneven line of smooth book spines.
have a copy of Simenon’s treatise on demonic
interdimensional travel," he said, plucking the volume
from the shelf and cradling it to his chest.
He looked up to see a smirk twisting Gunn’s lips.
"You’re sure friendly with that book, English."
He smiled slightly in return. "Jealous?"
"Of a book? I don't think so. But you start doing
something indecent with it, and I'm outta here,
mission or no mission."
"The mission, yes," Wesley said, dragging his mind
away from the precious book in his arms. He didn’t
realize he was still running his fingers over the book
cover until Gunn’s warm hand closed over his and
"Yeah, the mission? The one we have to research
'cause Cordy password-protected the computer and then
went on vacation?"
"Of course." Wesley took one last deep breath. "Now,
we're looking for a copy of *Demonology and
"I remember," Gunn said, squeezing again. "I'm not
the one who got all moony over interdimensional
travel. Good thing one of us can keep his mind on the
"I’m the boss," Wesley said. "I delegate for a
reason." He turned around to reshelve the Simenon
text. Gunn stepped closer, pinning him against the
shelves with his slightly larger frame.
"The boss, huh?" Gunn said. His warm breath tickled
the nape of Wesley’s neck.
Wesley shivered and lowered his head slightly,
exposing more of his neck to the puffs of air
feathering across his skin. "Yes. Definitely the
boss. I make decisions. I'm in charge. I...oh, that
feels good...Gunn, we're in the middle of a library!"
Gunn’s lips brushed across his skin just under his
hair line, brushed then pressed as Gunn chuckled into
his neck. "Do you see anybody else here but us on a
Wesley pressed back into Gunn’s firm body. He looked
left. He looked right. "Why on earth would a public
library be deserted because of the weekend?"
Gunn laughed again, folding his arms around Wesley’s
middle and pulling him closer. "You know, you’re
kinda cute when you’re being a --"
"Oh, yeah, English. Talk dirty some more."
Wesley tilted his head backward and rested it on
Gunn's shoulder. "Dewey decimals."
"I can’t believe you."
"The Library of Congress. Microfiche. Oversized
Gunn snorted, and then turned Wesley around so his
shoulder blades were propped against the shelves. He
hooked his fingers in the belt loops of Wesley’s
khakis and ducked down for a kiss. Wesley opened his
mouth and sucked on Gunn’s lips, running his hands up
Gunn’s arms to cup his head.
Shelves and books were digging into his back, but
Wesley couldn't find the energy to care. He was much
too busy tasting Gunn, slipping his tongue between
those lush lips, inhaling the mixed scent of Gunn and
leather. And Gunn didn’t seem too inclined to stop,
either, sliding his hands from Wesley’s belt loops to
work his fingers into the waist band on the back of
Wesley’s trousers. Gunn rocked Wesley’s hips forward
and widened his jaw. He whimpered into Gunn’s mouth.
Some part of his proper British upbringing vainly
tried to assert itself, pointing out that it wasn't
terribly wise to be grinding up against Gunn in public
library stacks. Even if they were deserted. Wesley
hesitated for a moment, and then remembered that he
wasn't that proper British watcher any more.
In fact, he was in L.A., the City of Dreams. To hell
He braced himself against the shelves and slid a thigh
between Gunn’s legs. His hands moved down from where
he had been teasing the skin of Gunn’s throat to creep
under Gunn’s loose jersey. Gunn moaned low in his
throat and took his mouth away, sliding his lips over
Wesley’s cheek and jaw to bite at his earlobe.
Teeth pressing into his skin just a little too
hard...felt perfect. He pulled Gunn's jersey away
from his neck and leaned forward to suck at the
exposed skin. He was sensitive there. The line of
Gunn’s collarbone, the bit between shoulder and neck.
He always tried to leave a mark somehow, using teeth
and tongue to claim Gunn as his. Gunn’s dark, smooth
skin didn’t show the bites as well as Wesley’s did,
but as long as he knew where to look, he could see the
And Wesley was persistent, worrying at Gunn's skin,
finishing off with a deep, sucking kiss. He'd barely
broken away from Gunn's neck when Gunn grabbed the
back of his head and dragged him back up. Urgently.
Wesley sucked at Gunn’s tongue in his mouth, rocking
up Gunn’s thigh, spreading his legs wider for better
balance so he could grind harder. He was hard and
growing frantic. And it wasn’t the place for this,
wasn’t the place for it at *all*. They would never
live it down at the office if they were arrested for
But apparently, Wesley’s body couldn’t spare two
bloody brain cells to stop.
Gunn’s breath was ragged on Wesley’s cheek as they
broke for air, still moving together. Wesley’s hands
moved up and down Gunn’s spine; Gunn’s hands wriggled
deeper, under his trousers and boxer shorts. The
front placket of Gunn’s jeans scraped against Wesley’s
cock, rough even through his layers of clothing. He
shuddered and pushed harder, sweat prickling on his
Wesley was close. And from the expression in Gunn’s
heavy-lidded eyes, so was he.
And so was Angel. Alarmingly close, suddenly looming
in Wesley's vision.
"If you guys are busy, I can come back later."
Wesley let out an undignified squeak and shoved at
Gunn, who refused to be moved. "Angel," he said.
Yelped, rather. He tried to untangle himself, but
Gunn simply held on more tightly. A slight hip
wriggle practically caused a light bulb to appear over
Gunn’s pants were loose, but not *that* loose. And
Wesley’s khakis would certainly not conceal his
"Um," Wesley said.
"The books," said Gunn. "They were...um...falling."
"Yes!" Wesley chimed in. "Falling. Definitely. And
we were...holding them up."
Angel blinked. "And you needed, what, to replace the
oxygen you lost holding up the books?"
Wesley rapped his fist against the shelf. "The books.
They knocked the wind out of me, and. And Gunn --"
"Didn’t want English to die on me," Gunn said.
"No," Angel said. "We wouldn't want that to happen."
Wesley couldn't for the life of him decide if Angel
was making fun of them or if he really *was* that
"Anyway," Angel continued, "I tracked down the nest.
We need to go burn it out before the spawn start to
hatch." He turned and began to stride away, and then
apparently realized that Wesley and Gunn weren't
"You guys coming?"
Wesley stared suspiciously at Angel's retreating back
as Gunn muttered, "Don't I wish."