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He loves to watch Wesley lick his fingers before he turns the pages of his book. That smooth, delicate digit brought up to the lips, the pink tongue brushing against the finger softly. It wasn't even sexy so much as fascinating, just the sight of that every single time he looked up from his book.
He wonders what Wes tastes when he delicately licks his index finger. Soap? Salt? Tea? Dust from the old books, exploding onto his tongue?
Angel put his own fingers in his mouth, but all he could even vaguely taste was blood. Pale, cold flesh with no salt to them at all. Not at all exciting, just vaguely disturbing.
It sort of made his heart fall: was this what Buffy's tasted in their one time (two times, says his heart-can't forget Thanksgiving, the other time that the PTB fucked him) in bed, when she had mouthed his fingers, softly kissed the place where his heart didn't beat? What was even the point of kissing, tasting each other, if he didn't taste like anything?
There had been times when he had wondered if all of him tasted like blood. His lips, his tongue, his... every part of him. Disappointing, he thought in a somewhat detached manner. He wanted to taste like sex and honey, like Darla had. Like Buffy had. Like Wesley smelled...
An Angelus thought, he dubbed sudden ideas like that. Wanting to taste everyone around him: that was definitely an Angelus thought. Not such a surprise, since he'd been having them more and more often since Darla showed up. In his dreams, in his bed, in his arms...she just found a way to get under his skin and make a monster of him.
The thoughts aren't really that sudden, or that disturbing. It was just so much more shocking when the Angelus thoughts are about Wesley.
Its explainable. He's there, all the time, for one thing. So fucking accessible, all Angel would have to do is reach over and... He could do anything to Wesley. He can see it in the other man's eyes when he watches Angel drink from a cup of blood. And if Angel didn't value his sanity, and his soul, and his redemption so much, he would. Wesley's a handsome man, really. Perhaps even more than handsome. Tiny, like Spike, and probably just about as dangerous if you crossed him...
Wesley, too, has an Angelus side. Its just that he keeps his very well hidden.
Anyway, the point is, if Angel really wanted to taste Wesley, he could. He can see it in Wes' eyes, that devotion and adoration, summed up in just the way he says, "Angel." Almost worshipful. Its beautiful, it really is, and furthermore it's a strong kind of love. The kind that even others can sense. Just last week, Gunn had asked pretty casually if the two men were seeing each other. Angel's answer: a simple, flat, "No." Not "What are you talking about?", not "That's insane," just nothing. He knew that Gunn couldn't be the first to notice whatever was between them. Love or lust or sex or whatever. Cordy tended to give them strange looks if they were off on patrol for too long.
He remembers that week, where he was just plain crazy and absolutely pardoned for it. Behind Cordelia, his face pressed into her hair, smelling her rose-scented shampoo... Thinking I am fucking Hamlet, and you will be my Ophelia...cover me...
Wesley coming in, hurt look on his face. "Was it something I did?" It immediately made him wish that it had been Wesley in the room with him when he snapped, so full of smells and tastes in the air that he just had to touch something, just had to taste something. Had to.
Because Welsey wouldn't have pulled away. He'd have stood there like a good boy and taken it, Angel's lips tongue teeth on his neck and oh, he even would have liked it.
Which makes it so difficult to be around him now. He smells like books and honey, his mouth is always soft and wet-looking, and his tongue always dwells on his fingers when he catches Angel looking at him. He just simply takes those fingers in his mouth and tastes them, as if he is somehow knowing that Angel can't, or won't, let himself taste. So Wes does it for him.
