Mark of the Beast

He's working in the office when Angel comes in.

"Get undressed."

Wesley doesn't look up to see that they're alone, before he stands, smoothly, and begins to remove his clothing.

He knows Angel is watching, but he leaves his gaze on the floor.

"Follow me."

Wesley raises his head just enough to see Angel turn and walk out. He follows.

Angel leads him to the garage; the concrete is cold on his bare feet but he says nothing. Angel goes to his car; gets in. Wesley follows.

Sitting in the passenger seat, Wesley waits. Angel looks at him. Finally he says, "Turn around. Towards me. On your back."

He does as instructed. Moves onto his back, legs in the air. Arse towards Angel. Angel doesn't look at him as he starts the car.

Wesley holds his legs, hands behind his knees. When they leave the garage, just as they pass through the gate, Angel inserts a finger into Wesley's arse. One finger only. He steers with the other hand.

As Angel drives, he removes his finger only to shift gears. Reinserts it when he can. In. Out. He's lubed his finger so there's no hesitation, no wriggling or pushing.

Wesley doesn't move.

His cock is hard, and every time Angel puts his finger back in, he gets a little harder. He can see out the window, see the buildings and hints of sky. The top is up, it's nighttime. It's Los Angeles. No one who notices will say a word.

The car stops somewhere; he doesn't know where. Engine idles, and Angel's finger is inside him. He's breathing hard, and he still can't move. Two fingers, suddenly, and his muscles tighten. Gasping, he grips his legs tighter.

He wants. He knows he can't speak. Can't beg, can't refuse, can only lie there bent in half with Angel free to do whatever he wishes.

He wants to come, and Angel keeps pushing. Finally, he does.

It's short, and violent, and he doesn't shout. Forgets to breathe for a moment and Angel's still fucking him. Wesley's chest is covered with his own cum and he's panting now, Angel still sliding his fingers inside. Three, then, and his cock gets hard.

Angel keeps fucking him 'til he comes again.

He's about to lose his grip on his legs; sweaty and shaking and he's exhausted. Angel shifts the car into gear and they drive away. In between shifting gears, Angel's finger is inside him once more.

When they reach the parking garage, Angel removes his finger and gets out of the car. Shuts the door and walks away; Wesley lies there, still not moving, for a long, long time.

Then he releases his legs, turns over and crawls awkwardly out of the car. His legs are still shaking, but he walks over cold concrete inside. Stops at the bathroom and washes his hands, washes his chest and his cock. He goes back to his office and gets dressed.

As always, he wonders just which of them it's for.