Glass (a Restaurant Dogs moment)
by Jane St Clair
9 June 2001
Sequel: takes place sometime after "Watchtower"
Feedback: Is good for my fragile self-esteem.
Disclaimer: Joss' boys. Warner's stuff. Fox's thang. Jane's story.
Still. And you know, I'd never have thought to put Cordelia in harem-
girl clothes, so clearly they belong in Joss' hands, and it's good
that I'm just borrowing.
Sex disclaimer: Never ever have I ever done it with the doorman in
the broom closet, while people in suits stuggled to open the doors
themselves and he chewed gently on my throat as I stroked the high
mandarin collar of his uniform.
I wrote this to entertain Te some time back, and I thought I might as
They sleep spooned together. Gunn behind Wes, usually, but every so
often they shift in their sleep. Gunn wakes in the early, colourless
morning with Wesley curled in against his back and one skinny arm
around his waist. Tiny crackles of power whenever Wesley's fingertips
scale over his nipples or his heart.
He's used to it now, in that way where it's still beautiful every
time. Still *good*. It crawls down towards his cock just *slowly*,
long morning trip where he wakes up and wants, but doesn't get. Not
right away. Teasing.
Wesley's hand closes around his cock, slick-dry and warm, before
Gunn's convinced the man's awake. Just soft fondling, and he wonders
about Wesley's dreams at times like this.
He's seen fragments of them. Of that childhood. Like something from
a bizarre movie. Everything so Victorian and glossed. Dark wood and
old books and Wesley huge eyed and *watching*, reaching out sometimes
towards artifacts with too much power in them. Boy in perfect wool
pants and very white, slightly translucent shirt. Baby fingers
reaching towards the orb on the highest shelf.
It took him a long time to realize that what he was seeing were just
the edges of Wesley's dreams. Too much detail for how little he was
getting. The full visions that Wes' brain supplies aren't even
something he can imagine.
He remembers Wes' first time. Some kind of a distant cousin. Older
but not *old*. His study in the topmost part of the house, lofted and
running along the whole length of what must have been a row of houses
before the family bought it up. Dark and not welcoming, but better
than the places Wes has nightmares about. And the cousin wasn't so
old, or so bad. Translucent as Wesley is, and his study smelled like
dried plants and warm paper.
On the small velvet couch, Wes on his back and the cousin laying on
his side next to him, tracing a hand over Wesley's bare stomach. Long
wizard fingers sliding between his legs and around his cock. Long,
slender body on top of his. Lying close together and kissing and
rubbing each other off. The whole house crackling around them.
Close and warm and dry and the whole world grey and powerful around
The cousin sat up, afterward. Drew patterns on Wesley's chest with a
charcoal pencil, touched both his nipples with rosemary, and blew.
And the world opened up.
What Gunn got was just the edges of that experience. And it's not
like anything in his own life. Way too English, and something else.
Something class-based that only Wesley really understands, and that
edge that has to have been the Watchers.
Wesley's hand on his cock tightens and loosens. It's a rhythm like a
body and *fuck* it's good. Enough to come just from that. Has to
grit his teeth not to. He feels Wes behind him, biting softly on the
thick muscle of his shoulders. Grinning just a bit. And then Wesley
pulls himself up and together and levers himself to straddle Gunn's
body. Still open and partly slick from last night and his eyes are
way too big without his glasses on. But when he bends and kisses
there's that *snap* of magic between them.
Makes him just grab those too-narrow hips and *slam* Wes down on him.
Pushing up with this huge, whole-body thrust that rocks up through the
top of Wesley's head and makes him gasp, and Gunn knows that this is
completely separate from the English world of Wesley's childhood, and
they both want it that way.
He hasn't asked, yet, why Wesley left. Knows that it's a whole new
ugly thing that they'll have to deal with. And for now he just gives.
Fucks up into Wesley's body hard this morning, making him hiss through
his teeth and talk nonsensically about breakfast and the shape of
Gunn's hands and exactly how much he loves this. Holds Gunn's hand
against his belly with one hand, lets his cock slide over the back of
it. Not touching himself yet. He has this narrow-eyed smile that he
*pours* onto Gunn as he grinds himself down. Little wet slide of
tongue and mouth time after time and
Gunn twists and manages to slam Wes down on the bed. On top of him
and in him and riding and Wesley *moans*. Throws his head back and
leaves his throat open and just fucking begs for some kind of
bloodletting or sacrifice and this, *this* is what he wanted. Gunn's
sure of it. The sharp openness of the whole country and the man on
top of him and a world beyond his family's walls.
Legs out, arms up, eyes open. Sharp and uncareful and *animal*. Deep
in him. Deep as Gunn can drive himself. Both of them kissing and
Wesley's arms around his body are at least as fierce as Gunn is
More deliberate than he looks. He's going to get Wes to come, just
from this. Cock between their bodies and the hard flesh rubbing
inside his body. Whispers *mine* and *come on*.
Almost startled when Wesley growls back.
Wraps both legs around Gunn's hips and pushes back. Fucking as much
as getting fucked, reminding him exactly how strong this man is. Even
physically, 'cause the legs around him aren't much, but there's long
muscles strung against the bone and it's all wire-tight against him.
*Driving* their bodies together, and Wes' eyes are *wide* open when he
Bright-sharp and Gunn *groans* and spills into him. About two seconds
before his body gives and he's down, on top of Wes and being held and
kissed and mouthed all along his scalp. Propped up together with
Wes' shoulders against the headboard and pillows and Gunn's head on
his shoulder. Gunn making soft breath-sounds whenever Wes' fingers
dig into the tight spots on his back.
And eventually he pulls out and lets them stretch. Rubs their legs
together. Chews a bit on Wesley's collarbone and thinks about the day
"Can you get up?"
"You gotta be kidding." But he rolls off. Stretches in the middle of
the bed, big and black and just watchful against the sheets'
whiteness. Very visible even in the half-dark.
And Wes gets up. Walks carefully to the corner of the room and
crouches. Little hunch in his back that says he's feeling the fuck,
still, but he doesn't complain. Moves a lot of books to get at the
trunk beside the window. Light angling through the blind slats carves
long fingers on his back.
And he turns with something in his hands. So familiar that Gunn
doesn't recognize it until Wes comes back to sit cross-legged at the
foot of the bed and holds it out to him with both hands.
Orb from Wesley's dreams. Not flat or smooth or anything like a
crystal ball. More colours than a soap bubble and fewer than Los
Angeles at night. Dark and rough and barely circular, but it looks
like it's been held a lot. Little indentations in the sides where his
hands fit when Wesley gives it to him.
Though it's not til it's in both their hands that it *flares*. And
for a second Gunn gets this vision of the world as
brightdarkwetfiercestonewallsteamagicfirechildWesleywatching. All of
it too vivid in his brain, and he wonders if this is all the colours
Wesley dreams in or something more. Like living it, only with more
Los Angeles outside. Gold and getting brighter and brighter and soon
he's not going to be able to even *look* at the window. Even the gaps
in the blind leave retinal burns.
Wesley says, "How do you feel?"
"Do you feel nauseous? Dizzy?"
"Would you like to see?"
Wesley's mouth closes on his. Kisses him deep and thorough and the
pull back is its own gut-wrenching *pull*. Sits back and watches
until Gunn sits up, gets cross-legged and faces him. Still naked.
Sweat on his back.
He lays his hands on the orb again and gets *shreddedorangepeel
silverandpewteranddarkplacesunderthestairs* and has just a second to
stare into Wesley's face before he falls into it.
Feed Jane. She really needs the attention. firstname.lastname@example.org