RATING: PG-15. M/M Sexual Content

SUMMARY: Angel/Wesley. Wesley has psychological musings while in bed with Angel.
SPOILERS: Set early in Ats S5

DISCLAIMER: Not mine, just playing.
FEEDBACK: Please.
DISTRIBUTION: Quite possible. If asked nicely.

The mirrored tiles on the ceiling presented a mosaic of images for Wesley to consider. He saw a reflection of himself, lying on his back looking upward, fractured in spots and rearranged into a whole, but not the reflection of his lover lying face down on the bed next to him. Idly, he reached his arm out to stroke Angel's shoulder, but the mirror only revealed his hand tracing over empty air. At the touch of Wesley's hand, Angel stirred and rolled toward him.

What Angel thought about the mirrors, Wes didn't know. Angel had come upon him earlier in the week, standing on the ladder, affixing the last of the tiles with the special mastic, but had only leaned in the doorway, watching and saying nothing. Catching sight of him, Wes had paused briefly and waited, only to continue his work a moment later when he realized that Angel wasn't going to say anything.

It was hard to reconcile, Wesley decided. The mirror disconnected him from what his senses were telling him. He could smell Angel, and still taste him in his mouth. He could touch him and hear the sounds that Angel made when Wesley caressed him. And most perplexing of all, he could see him, his dark brown eyes, the way his hair curled at the nape of his neck, the expanse of muscular shoulder, the pale curve of his hip. But the reflection revealed none of those things. To the mirror, Angel was merely empty space.

"Wesley," Angel said quietly. Slowly, Wesley turned his gaze from the mirror to the man next to him. Angel regarded him thoughtfully. "I'm here. I'm not an illusion." Angel reached out and laid his hand on Wesley's stomach, slowly tracing the line of hair swirling down from his chest to his groin. "I'm here now."

"Yes you are," Wes said in a low voice. He smiled at Angel and reached over, threading his hand in the thick hair at the back of Angel's head to draw him closer. With a satisfied growl, Angel rolled and settled himself on top of Wesley, leaning in for a kiss that started out gentle but quickly deepened. Wes closed his eyes and relished the feel of Angel's body, cool and solid, covering him.

The taste of his mouth, the fluidity of his tongue as it claimed his own mouth. The scent of his arousal, the hardness of Angel's erection as it rubbed against his own. This, he thought, is no illusion. This is real. This is what I want. He moved his hands along Angel's arms, to the shoulders. Then slowly traced his way down his lover's back to the hips and thighs.

Eventually, Angel released Wesley's mouth and started trailing a line of kisses along Wesley's jaw, down his neck, and slowly worked his way across the collarbone to the hollow of his throat. Wes shuddered as the coolness of Angel's mouth left a trail of fire in its wake. He kept his eyes firmly shut and concentrated on the sensations. In his mind, he ran through the senses again, constructing a proof of sorts--the taste of Angel still lingering in his mouth, the sound of his murmured words against his chest, the smell of their mutual arousal, the feel of his body as it slid lower, down his chest, down the flat plane of his stomach.

Wes opened his eyes as Angel finally reached his cock. Through half-open eyes he watched him explore it thoroughly with his face and mouth and hands. Angel looked up briefly and smiled at him. Wes began to tremble. His breath was ragged and he desperately wanted to watch Angel in the mirror above him. But he didn't want to see the void in the reflection. Not now. Not when all of his senses were screaming that this was as real as it gets.

Convulsively gripping the sheets beneath him, he suddenly knew how to end the disconnect. Reaching down, he stroked Angel's hair and neck briefly, so that Angel's mouth continued its work and didn't stop, and then he grabbed the edge of the sheet and pulled it up over Angel. Opening his eyes and looking up, he saw the outline of Angel's body underneath the expanse of white cotton. Placing his hands on top of the sheet he traced the width of those broad shoulders under the smooth fabric, pulling it taut until he could see the muscles straining against the material. He saw Angel's bulk nestled between his legs, the curve of his spine as he knelt there, the shape of his head as it moved against the fabric. And with eyes wide open he exploded, watching the form of his lover continue to shift and pull against the sheet he held firmly in place.

At last, Wes let go of the fabric and closed his eyes once again. He sensed rather than saw Angel sit up, visualized the sheet sliding off of him in the process to pool at the foot of the bed. Wesley felt Angel's gaze move over his body, watching his limp form shudder with ragged breaths and tightly closed eyes. He heard the squeak of the mattress as Angel lowered himself back down next to Wes, turning and pulling him into his arms. They lay there together, quietly except for the sound of Wesley's breathing.

Wes lay there nestled against Angel's chest, with his head resting on one of Angel's arms and the other one wrapped around his waist. It felt solid, this presence beside him. Even with all his senses shifting back and forth, focusing on different tastes and smells and textures as the moments passed. But when he turned his head upward and opened his eyes to reassure himself, he found no comfort. He saw himself, alone and naked, curled next to an empty expanse of bed. It didn't matter which mirrored tile he looked at or how he tried to rearrange the image in his head. They all revealed the same mosaic of emptiness.

PART II

EMPTY SPACES

TITLE: Empty Spaces
AUTHOR: B Taylor
RATING: NC-17. M/M Sexual Content
SUMMARY: Angel/Wesley. Angel has psychological musings while in bed with Wesley. Companion piece to Mosaic. This tells that story from Angel s point of view.
SPOILERS: Set early in Ats S5
DISCLAIMER: They don’t belong to me; I’m just having a wee bit of fun.
FEEDBACK: Please.
DISTRIBUTION: Quite possible. If asked nicely.


Shadows rimmed Wesley’s bedroom, but the bed itself was surrounded by patterns of light. Angel preferred the darkness, but tonight, he had watched as Wesley quietly turned on the bedside lamps before climbing into bed next to him. The freshly mirrored ceiling caught the small amount of light and transformed it, sending it to dance across the expanse of crisp white cotton. Angel lay next to Wesley and watched the light fracture and reform on the bed before him.

When Wesley had switched on the first lamp, Angel had deliberately rolled to his stomach to avoid looking at the mirrors Wes had affixed above the bed. The fact he had no reflection did not bother him --after all this time he was used to it. It was Wesley’s sudden fixation on it that was a bit hard to take.

He had discovered Wesley methodically attaching the mirrors to the ceiling earlier in the week. He had waited for Wes to say something -- anything really -- about what was going on in that head of his. But his silent questions were met with Wesley’s bland regard, their eyes locking for a brief moment, before Wes resumed the task at hand. Angel had simply turned and left, leaving Wes to finish with the mirrored tiles. As he walked away, he wondered just what it was that Wes was trying so hard to see.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been lying there when the touch of Wesley s warm hand on his shoulder caught his attention. The way he touched him. It never ceased to send a tremor of desire through his body. Angel slowly rolled over to look at him. But once again, Wesley’s attention was not really focused on him. Instead the blue eyes were locked on the tableau on the ceiling.

Angel watched him for a long time before speaking. “Wesley,” he said quietly. “I’m here. I’m not an illusion.” He reached out and laid his hand on Wesley s stomach, slowly tracing the line of hair swirling down from his chest to his groin. I m here now. He wondered if his touch would get through to Wesley. He loved the feel of him. The warmth, the muscles underneath the skin, the way the hair grew on this expanse of body, the feel of its texture under his fingertips. He loved touching him. Never tired of it. This had surprised him.

But that was one of the very best things about Wesley. He was full of surprises. It was only now that he noticed such things. Like the desire that seemed to throb of its own volition, able to push aside Angel’s own lingering resentments and Wesley’s intractable reserve however fleetingly. Or the fact that Wes could see the big picture better than he could. Funny really, that he, the immortal being, struggled to see it, but Wes, human through and through, never seemed to have problems with it at all.

But tonight wasn’t about ancient prophecies or visions. It was about touch and taste. The way their mutual desire hung thick between them. The musky aroma of Wesley’s arousal began to permeate Angel’s senses. Made Angel want to devour him completely. But instead, Angel waited for a signal from Wesley. Something that would show that Wesley was here with him and not lost in that bloody mirrored mosaic that hung overhead.

Finally Wes spoke in a low voice, “Yes you are.” Then he reached for him. Angel didn t hesitate. With a growl, he rolled himself on top of Wes, pinning him to the mattress. Using his weight and size to his advantage, he leaned in for a kiss, trying hard to take Wesley’s mind off of the mirrors.

He started off gentle. Relishing the warmth and softness of Wesley’s mouth, he tried to take it slow. But gradually, he found himself pushing, demanding more and more. Deepening the kiss, forcing his tongue deeper, tasting, devouring the man below him.

At last, he felt the response he was searching for. Wesley’s hands tracing along his back, pulling him in. The pulsing erection pushing against his stomach. Slowly, Angel rocked his own hips against the man beneath him, and heard the groan that escaped Wesley’s mouth and filled his own. With a smile, he tore himself away from that mouth and begin working his way lower. Across the stubble-covered cheeks, along the ridge of the jaw, down the column of the throat, to hover at the pulse point on the right side of Wesley s neck for just a moment. Then with a slight nip, he moved on across the collarbone, stopping to lick the gathering sweat beading in the hollow there. He savored every taste, every texture. He laved his tongue across Wesley s chest, kissed the flat of his stomach and then trailed further down, taking his cue from Wesley s involuntary responses.

Finally, he reached Wesley’s cock. He rubbed his face against it, drinking in the aroma. He took his time exploring, with hands and his mouth. Looking up, he caught Wesley’s gaze, filled with passion and hunger, and Angel smiled. He bent his head back to the task at hand, and was greeted with a sharp intake of air followed by long ragged breaths. He felt Wesley run his hands over his head, stroking his hair lightly, urging him on, and then he was suddenly enveloped in fabric.

He lifted his head to see what was going on, but Wes pulled the fabric tightly against him. Angel felt a moment’s panic as he tried to figure out what the hell was happening before he felt Wesley’s hands splaying across his shoulders, trying to mold the sheet to the contours of his body. And he knew then that Wesley was once again focused on watching him in the mirror. He knew Wesley was trying to give his reflection form and substance by encasing it in the thin white sheet. With a groan of frustration, he raised up and pushed against the fabric, eager to break its hold, but as he did, Wesley bucked his hips and began thrusting, asking silently for Angel to give him release.

Angel hesitated for the briefest of moments. But the smell of Wesley’s desire and the taste of him in his mouth were too much to deny. Once again, he nestled himself between Wesley’s thighs and concentrated fully on drawing him deeper into his mouth. Angel could still feel the smoothness of the sheet being stretched taut against his body and he felt anger begin to rise.

Desperate to regain Wesley’s attention, he slid his hands over Wesley s stomach, down his thigh, and between his legs. Slowly tracing a saliva-moistened finger between the buttocks, he hesitated momentarily before sliding it in. Wesley thrashed wildly at the invasion and exploded into Angel’s mouth. Angel heard the shuddering moans, felt Wesley;s fingers digging into his shoulders as he drank deeply.

Finally, Angel felt the taut cotton relax against him, and he carefully sat up, pushing the sheet off of him and letting it fall to the floor. He let his gaze roam over Wesley, taking in the trembling, the ragged gasps for air, the firmly closed eyes.

Frowning slightly, Angel slid forward and lowered himself next to Wesley. He rolled on his side, and pulled Wes up against him, holding him close. Angel felt his own erection pulse between the two of them, and knew he would find no release that night. He could see that, once again, Wesley was lost in thought, the closed eyes forming a barrier, keeping him at a distance.

Angel lay there silently. Listening to Wesley s even breathing, lightly cupping his hand against his waist, savoring the heat that radiated into him, warming his cold body. He remained still, save for his own throbbing cock which he had pushed firmly up against Wesley’s back. A reminder of sorts that he was still there. That what they had was real. He needed Wes to know that, and wondered if he ever truly would.

As Wesley turned his head ever so slightly and opened his eyes to stare at the mirrored reflection hovering above them, Angel closed his own eyes. He couldn’t bear to look at Wes, not right now. Angel wondered what drew Wesley over and over again to those mirrors. He wondered if Wes even truly understood what he was doing. What was he trying to see?

Angel knew Wes would not find the answer in the mirrors. No matter how hard Wesley tried to rearrange Angel in his mind’s eye it wouldn’t come out right. Angel had been broken and put back together into a semblance of what he once was. But a piece would forever be missing. And as he finally drifted off to sleep, he suspected that the emptiness that Wesley saw was nothing but a reflection of the hole in his heart.