One of Rupert's eyebrows rose, a smile lifting lips that Wesley now knew
were just as soft as they looked. The older man leaned in, so slow Wes
thought he might die of the waiting. Then that mouth was pressed to his
again. The kiss was little more than a fleeting brush to his split lip,
but had Wesley's cock twitching.
Next Rupert was kissing his face, so sweet and perfect that Wesley could have died a happy man. There was a flicker of tongue as Rupert worked over his jaw line and Wesley moaned, hips thrusting up embarrassingly when Rupert's mouth reached his chest.
"Mmmm," the man rumbled against him and Wes let his head fall back onto the sofa, his breathing harsh and rasping. "So responsive," Giles was murmuring, lips rubbing against Wesley's sensitive skin with every word, "so very hot for it." Rupert's hand slipped onto his thigh and Wes arched into the touch, ignoring the dizziness that warned against too much movement. "So eager."
Wesley groaned, intentionally biting the split in his lip and welcoming the pain, as it kept him from coming and embarrassing himself.
Rupert pulled away again, moving to meet Wesley's eyes.
"Have you ever been with a man, Wes?"
There were no words. Fearing the older man's reaction, his laughter, Wes shook his head, but said nothing.
Rupert moved closer, bending one leg under him so that his body pressed along Wesley's side and his lips were right at Wes' ear. Wesley closed his eyes, shivering at the feel of Giles' breath against his neck, drinking in the man's low murmurs.
"I'll change that for you," he whispered, husky and hoarse. "Show you how good it can be." Rupert's hand brushed Wes' stomach, making the muscles contract and pushing a startled breath out of Wes. "Kiss every bruise and scrape. But you need to rest first. Need to sleep and heal. How does that sound, Wes?"
"Like heaven." Wesley felt a blush rise in his cheeks at his own words, but he refused to take them back.
"That's a good boy. Relax. Let yourself go. Sleep and I'll watch over you." Giles pulled Wesley up against him, his back to Rupert's front, and Wes moaned. He let his head fall back on the older man's shoulder with a fidgeting smile. When there was no reproof, he relaxed, breath moving quick in and out of his lungs.
"Do . . . do I have to sleep?"
"Yes. I'm not about to take you while you have a concussion."
Wesley shivered, gasping. Giles rearranged himself beneath him and suddenly Wesley felt the man's erections pressing into the small of his back.
"I . . . I don't know if I can sleep . . . like, um, this."
"I think you'll be surprised at just how easy that will be," Giles whispered in his ear, followed by a few words in Latin that Wes realized as a sleep spell, something easily deflected had he actually wanted to.
"You'll . . . you will still be here when I wake up . . . right?"
"I'm not going anywhere, Wesley. I promise you. I'll be here to wake you up, every hour."
end
Next Rupert was kissing his face, so sweet and perfect that Wesley could have died a happy man. There was a flicker of tongue as Rupert worked over his jaw line and Wesley moaned, hips thrusting up embarrassingly when Rupert's mouth reached his chest.
"Mmmm," the man rumbled against him and Wes let his head fall back onto the sofa, his breathing harsh and rasping. "So responsive," Giles was murmuring, lips rubbing against Wesley's sensitive skin with every word, "so very hot for it." Rupert's hand slipped onto his thigh and Wes arched into the touch, ignoring the dizziness that warned against too much movement. "So eager."
Wesley groaned, intentionally biting the split in his lip and welcoming the pain, as it kept him from coming and embarrassing himself.
Rupert pulled away again, moving to meet Wesley's eyes.
"Have you ever been with a man, Wes?"
There were no words. Fearing the older man's reaction, his laughter, Wes shook his head, but said nothing.
Rupert moved closer, bending one leg under him so that his body pressed along Wesley's side and his lips were right at Wes' ear. Wesley closed his eyes, shivering at the feel of Giles' breath against his neck, drinking in the man's low murmurs.
"I'll change that for you," he whispered, husky and hoarse. "Show you how good it can be." Rupert's hand brushed Wes' stomach, making the muscles contract and pushing a startled breath out of Wes. "Kiss every bruise and scrape. But you need to rest first. Need to sleep and heal. How does that sound, Wes?"
"Like heaven." Wesley felt a blush rise in his cheeks at his own words, but he refused to take them back.
"That's a good boy. Relax. Let yourself go. Sleep and I'll watch over you." Giles pulled Wesley up against him, his back to Rupert's front, and Wes moaned. He let his head fall back on the older man's shoulder with a fidgeting smile. When there was no reproof, he relaxed, breath moving quick in and out of his lungs.
"Do . . . do I have to sleep?"
"Yes. I'm not about to take you while you have a concussion."
Wesley shivered, gasping. Giles rearranged himself beneath him and suddenly Wesley felt the man's erections pressing into the small of his back.
"I . . . I don't know if I can sleep . . . like, um, this."
"I think you'll be surprised at just how easy that will be," Giles whispered in his ear, followed by a few words in Latin that Wes realized as a sleep spell, something easily deflected had he actually wanted to.
"You'll . . . you will still be here when I wake up . . . right?"
"I'm not going anywhere, Wesley. I promise you. I'll be here to wake you up, every hour."
end