Author ~ Wesleysgirl ~ website ~ journal
Title ~ The Spaces of the Hills
Rating ~ NC-17
Timeline ~ Spoilers through "Shiny Happy People."
Author's notes ~ Thanks to Magpie, for everything.Challenge:
Story written for ~ Marguerite
Two requirements ~ Wesley & season 4
Two restrictions (optional) ~ no rapefic
Spoiler level ~ no restrictions
Rating level ~ no restrictions
The Spaces of the Hills
"To them a city is a prison house
Where pent up human forces labour and strive,
Where beauty dwells not, driven forth by man;
But where in winter they must live until
Summer gives back the spaces of the hills."
Summer - Amy LowellThey come back to the hotel stinking of sweat, covered with blood and ichor, exhausted.
Triumphant.
They're all staying here now -- none of them want to go too far from the woman. She is the most delectable flower in all creation, and they are helpless in Her thrall. When She's in the room the air is sweeter and their hearts feel light.
Wesley can't recall any other time in his life when he's felt this good. Oh, as a small child there must have been days of happiness, or at least he tells himself this. There's no room for sorrow about the past here. There's only now; these brilliant moments occurring like a slide show, and the equally-brilliant future stretched out in front of them like a promise of perfection.
Angel disappears upstairs as soon as they've reported in and received their praise, and Gunn turns to Wesley, his face open and friendly in the way it used to be. In the way Wesley hasn't forgotten, no matter how hard he tried to.
"I'm thinking we'd better clean up if we don't want to drive everyone out of here from the stench," Gunn says.
Connor brushes past them. "I'm going to check on Cordy." There's something there -- the boy isn't as happy as he should be. Not that they don't all feel badly about what's happened to Cordelia, despite the sacrifice that she made willingly, but one would think that Connor would be less... sullen.
"He doesn't seem very happy," Wesley offers.
The woman nods, her own smile a little bit sad. "There's a part of him still in mourning for her. A part that can't accept that she's not here with us, fighting the forces of hate."
"But you do think she's going to wake up?" Wesley needs to hear it again, needs to listen to her sweet, warm voice reassuring him.
"I do. Once we've cleansed this world of chaos, once the gift of peace has been shared... that's when she'll awaken and rejoice in the harmony that we create."
Wesley's aware that he and Gunn are exchanging somewhat dopey looks of peace and joy, but he can't bring himself to care. The happiness infiltrates them, runs through their veins like a powerful drug. It washes away all the negativity and distrust, leaving only love.
"But you're right," the woman continues. "He *is* upset. I should go talk to him." She touches each of them fleetingly, the brush of a hand on a shoulder as She passes by, and then glides up the staircase.
As always, being apart from Her feels just a bit like a light has gone out in the room, but Wesley comforts himself with the knowledge that She'll be back. She's here to stay, and She loves them all.
"So, shower?" Gunn says, clapping him on the back gently.
They've been keeping their things in the same room -- in fact, sleeping together as often as not. Not in the same bed, not that there'd be anything wrong with that. But the closeness that they'd once shared is back, and it's nice to be able to say goodnight to someone before falling asleep. Nice to wake in the early morning hours and know that someone else is there.
Lilah's a distant memory, wrapped into cotton wool.
Wesley showers first, after a brief but friendly argument about whose turn it is to do so. He's sure that it's Gunn's turn, but Gunn insists just as determinedly that it's his.
At some point in time in the past few months, before the Beast came to L.A., Angel must have done some work in the basement of the hotel, because there's plenty of hot water. Wesley can't quite remember how long it's been since he showered at the Hyperion, but he does have a vague memory of the water temperature's inconsistence.
He rides a fine line between being brief so that Gunn doesn't have to wait long and doing a good job rinsing away the admittedly-foul-smelling blood from the nest of demons they'd slaughtered earlier.
"You think Angel's still all broody from the whole soul thing?" Gunn calls through the mostly-shut bathroom door as Wesley is scrubbing the last of the shampoo from his hair.
"I beg your pardon?"
"I *said* -- "
"No, I *heard* you, I just didn't understand what you were asking."
When Gunn speaks again, it's clear that he's opened the door and is inside the bathroom. "Don't shut the water off, you'll just waste it. We can switch off when you're done."
"All right. Er, what was that again?"
Wesley sticks his head out and reaches for the towel he left sitting on the edge of the sink. Gunn is leaning against it, shirtless and with his belt undone. When he realizes what Wes is looking for, he grabs the towel and holds it out, his warm fingers brushing Wesley's wet ones as the exchange is made. "I was saying, you think Angel's soul's making him feel all bad about the trying to kill Her thing?"
Feeling pleasantly casual and relaxed about their closeness, Wesley steps out of the bathtub, wrapping the towel around his waist as he does so. He's not sure he understands how Gunn's first question can translate into this one, but it's not as though he can't give his opinion.
"I think he's still upset about Cordelia."
"Like father, like son," Gunn says, shoving his pants down over his hips and stepping into the shower. There's a glimpse of long dark thigh, then the curtain pulls closed again.
"I suppose so. And I'm sure you're right -- he's no doubt upset about having tried to kill Her. Although She's reassured him time and again that he was only trying to do the right thing." Wesley starts to dry himself off.
"You'd think he didn't want to feel happy."
That's rather the crux of the matter, of course. "I don't think he does."
Gunn snorts. "Vampire's got a major complex."
Wesley can't disagree with that, although it's not that simple. "With good reason," he says mildly. He thinks about going into the other room for his clothes, but he doesn't want to leave in the middle of the conversation.
"Yeah."
Just as Wesley lifts the towel to his head to rub it over his hair, the water stops, and Gunn pushes the shower curtain to one side. Wes is painfully aware of his nudity on an intellectual level, but curiously, he feels rather emotionally free about it.
Gunn barely seems to notice. "Um, Wes? You gonna hand me a towel, or just keep standin' there?"
"What?" Wesley realizes that his eyes have been tracing the planes of Gunn's body, following the rivulets of water that make their way down across the dark skin like quicksilver. "Oh, sorry." He reaches for a towel from the rack and gives it to Gunn, wrapping his own towel back around his waist.
Gunn dries himself off unselfconsciously, stepping out onto the floor and moving past Wesley. The space is so small that their thighs -- one covered, one bare -- brush against each other as he passes.
Wesley's cock hardens in an instant.
By the time Wesley remembers to breathe and goes out into the room, Gunn has pulled on a pair of boxers and thrown himself down onto one of the beds. Head resting on his hand, he asks, "So, more of the same tomorrow?"
"As far as I know." Concentrating on the mundane, Wesley realizes he hasn't any clean clothes left here at the hotel. He really must get over to his own apartment some time soon and pick up some more of his things. Instead of putting on something he's already worn, he slips between the sheets and lets the towel fall to the floor, turning on his side to face Gunn. With one knee bent, he tells himself that it's impossible for Gunn to see the evidence of his arousal. "She says this is the way to proceed -- cleanse the city of evil so that people will be able to hear Her message."
"It's so..." Gunn struggles for words, his head pillowed in the curve of his arm. "Incredible. Isn't it? I mean, a couple of months ago -- heck, a couple of *weeks* ago -- I wouldn't have *dreamed* we'd be here."
"And yet here we are," Wesley agrees. "Living under the same roof as a Goddess, surrounded by Her love, doing Her bidding... it does seem incredible."
Gunn yawns. "Should get some sleep," Gunn says, unnecessarily. They've been up for nearly twenty-four hours -- ridding the world of evil at this speed is a full time job -- and if Wesley isn't mistaken, the sun will rise in only a few more.
"Yes, you're right."
Gunn reaches for the lamp on the table in between the two beds and clicks it off.
Somehow, even the darkness seems like an loving embrace these days.
*** Wesley isn't sure when he fell asleep, but he knows that he won't forget waking up for a long, long time. Gunn is sitting on the side of his bed, one large hand resting on Wesley's thigh, bare but for the thin cotton sheet. Strong fingers trace their way upward, outlining Wesley's aching erection which, he realizes, has dampened the fabric draped over it.
The sun is just beginning to rise outside the window, its pale gold infusing the world.
"This okay?" Gunn asks, his voice low and smooth like melted butter.
Not trusting himself to speak, Wesley arches his back slightly, pushing his cock against Gunn's hand. There's been no need for begging since She came -- everything falls into place -- and it seems best to leave it that way now. Everything falling into place like this, like Gunn's hand touching him, and Gunn leaning down to kiss him.
"You want to do this right, you'd better move over," Gunn says, nudging Wesley's side with his knee.
The bed is plenty big for two if they don't mind being cozy, even though neither of them is a small man. Wesley shifts away, leaving the sheet draped over himself, then lets his hand smooth over Gunn's shoulder as Gunn swings his feet up onto the bed and leans in closer.
He runs his hand down Gunn's back, and only discovers as he gets further down that Gunn is as naked as he is. When he touches the curve of Gunn's buttock, the bigger man groans softly and presses closer, and Wesley can feel Gunn's erection against his thigh, hard and insistent.
"I'm sorry," Wesley says, knowing that it's not necessary and possibly not even appropriate at this moment.
"What about?" Gunn asks, brushing his lips over Wesley's.
"About before. About everything. I didn't -- " He's silenced with another kiss, deeper this time.
"Don't," Gunn says, when they break apart. "That's all in the past. Everything's different now. Better."
Wesley can't disagree, and his hands are running over Gunn's body, the ache in him the first thing that's felt wrong since She came. He wonders if Gunn feels the same way, but they're kissing again, like pieces fitted together, and he doesn't want to waste his breath.
There's something maddening about touching with the thin sheet between them. It makes Wesley feel out of control, even at the same time he clutches Gunn closer, writhing against him.
"This feels right," Gunn says, licking Wesley's throat, sucking on the skin there fiercely, as if trying to leave a mark. "This feel right to you?"
"Yes," Wesley gasps, his fingers kneading Gunn's arse. They've rolled a bit, so Gunn's nearly on top of him, one of his thighs in between Wesley's, his cock rubbing across Wes' hip with such force that Wesley thinks it must be painful.
Gunn groans and pants, then moves lower, biting at Wesley's chest. His large hand slides down underneath the sheet and grips onto Wesley's erection, stroking it firmly, pulling at it in a way that makes Wesley's breath catch.
"Please," Wesley says, all thoughts against begging becoming immaterial as his cock throbs in Gunn's hand.
"What d'you want?" Gunn licks Wesley's stomach, breathes warm air across the damp skin.
"You. In me." Amazingly, it doesn't feel embarrassing to say the words.
Gunn teases him with a spit-slick finger before pushing it inside slowly. Wesley arches off the bed silently, one hand gripping the headboard, his eyes tightly shut.
"You okay?" Gunn asks.
Wesley opens his eyes in surprise, and his hips move of their own accord, rocking so that Gunn's fingertip brushes his prostate. He gasps and his cock twitches, a bead of pre-come forming at the tip. "I'm... oh God. Do that again." And although Gunn doesn't seem very practiced at what he's doing, he does, and Wesley gasps again.
Gunn licks the head of Wesley's cock tentatively, washing away the drop of fluid, and suddenly Wesley needs to taste him. He pushes Gunn away, urging the other man up onto his knees, and sits up, taking Gunn's cock in hand and sucking the head of it into his mouth.
He feels Gunn tremble, feels fingers twisting into his hair. "Fuck," Gunn says, and there is no possible way that the word could sound more like a term of endearment. "Wes..."
And Gunn tastes salty, like brine or the sea, and he's warm and heavy between Wesley's lips. Wesley makes a little noise of pleasure, and his own cock twitches with his desire to have Gunn deep inside him.
Wesley can tell that Gunn won't last long like this, so he dallies only long enough to get the other man's cock well-coated with saliva, then falls back onto the bed. He pulls Gunn down with him, spreading his legs and shivering with anticipation as Gunn settles himself between them. His hand reaches down, doing his best to guide Gunn's hard cock to the proper spot.
"You sure about this?" Gunn asks, his lips inches from Wesley's. He kisses Wesley quickly.
"Absolutely. Are you?"
In answer, the head of Gunn's cock is pressing against him, slippery and hot and feeling much bigger than it actually is. Wesley moves his hand to Gunn's arse again, pulling him closer, digging his fingers into the hard muscle as he is stretched open impossibly wide.
Gunn's mouth is beside his ear, exhaling shallowly as Gunn does his best to retain control. Wesley flexes his hips the tiniest bit, and the head of Gunn's cock eases in. They both freeze.
They're both trembling.
"More," Wesley whispers, into Gunn's ear, knowing that there's more pain to come, but that it has to be got through before he can get to the pleasure on the other side.
Whatever control is still there has Gunn wound like a spring, but he forces himself deeper, the stretch making Wesley grit his teeth and throw his head back into the pillow. He can't remember it ever being this bad before.
"More," he says again through his teeth, canting his hips to make the way easier. Needing it to be easier.
And it is easier -- Gunn pulls out a couple of inches and then shoves back in, even deeper this time. When he moves out and thrusts again, the head of his cock bumps Wesley's prostate, shattering the pain into a thousand tiny shards like a mirror breaking, leaving only the pleasure.
Wesley gasps, moans. "Yes," he says. "More, please..."
There doesn't seem to be any question of Gunn stopping. Now that he's found the proper angle, he fucks Wesley steadily, supporting his weight on his forearms, his tongue tracing the edge of Wes' jaw. "Love you," Gunn says, rough like raw silk. "God, Wes, love you."
Wesley knows it -- he's always known it, known that hatred that ran that deep could only be fueled by love. His breath still comes in gasps at the admission, at the sheer *perfection* of the words. This is where they've been meant to be all this time, in each other's arms.
Gunn fucks him harder, faster, and when he says again, "Love you, Wes," Wesley comes, with no more stimulation than the thrust of Gunn's cock and the friction of his belly rubbing over the length of Wesley's own erection.
He can feel himself jerking, as if his nerve endings are misfiring all at once, a fireworks explosion of brilliant color. Their stomachs are slick, and the feel of it sends another jolt through him. "I love you," he breathes.
"Yeah, oh God yeah," Gunn mutters, just before he freezes, his body over Wesley's hardening into something more resembling a statue as his orgasm rushes out of him and into Wesley.
Long moments of silence, then longer ones of murmurs. Expressions of love that should sound sickly, cloying, but instead just... are. There's nothing wrong with this little section of the world, and soon enough there will be nothing wrong with any of it.
Side by side, sweat cooling on their bodies, Wesley runs his hand over the sunlight dappling Gunn's lower back.
They may have been driven apart once, but now they're back where they belong.
Together, they're going to remake the world in Her image.