Note: Wesley/Gunn this installment only.

 

"What's this?" Wesley asked.

"Package," Gunn said.

"What am I supposed to do with a- you're going to tell me to open it, aren't you?"

"You said it, man, not me."

"You were going to say it."

"Oh, you psychic now?"

"No. You just think very loudly. It keeps me up nights." Wesley opened the package as he spoke, and frowned.

"What's in it?" Gunn asked, able to keep up the pretense of disinterest only so far.

"Newspaper clippings." Wesley pulled it from the box. "And a note from Spike."

"Spike? How's Blondie Bear doin' these days?"

"Apparently, taking a short vacation to - oh. Oh dear."

"What? What 'oh dear'? Don't be 'oh dear'-ing me! I don't like 'oh dear.'" Gunn made a grab for the note, but Wesley snatched it away.

"To take Xander's new piercings on their maiden voyage, if you must know."

"Really? Spike said maiden voyage?"

Wesley read the note again and grimaced. "Not exactly."

"So that explains why he's busy. What's with the newspaper?"

"It seems that they're under obligation to some higher power to...let's see...read the newspaper, find something disturbing to comment on, and then shag like minks."

"And?"

"We're to...do it for them while they're occupied."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah. Okay. Let's see the paper."

"They expect us to simply read bizarre newspaper stories and then get into the mood somehow off of them?"

"You can just lie back and think of England."

"I had intended to lie back and think of Spike."

"Should I be jealous?"

"Spike chained to a chair being taught some manners!"

Gunn grinned, "Gonna be jealous then."

Wesley huffed, glaring at Gunn, who only grinned and snatched the clippings, flopping next to him on the couch, making Wesley bounce with the impact.

"Give a goat for Christmas," Gunn read off the top.

"Give a goat what?"

"No, you give the goat. To."

"People are still giving each other goats for Christmas? That hardly seems likely to become a popular stocking stuffer."

"Nah. You pay for the goat. They give the goat to someone in a third world country, and the person you're buying for gets a certificate that a goat was given in their name." Gunn paused. "Don't you wanna know how much a goat goes for in England these days?"

"Saanens, LaManchas, Alpines, Oberhaslis, Togenburgs, or Nubians?"

"Okay, man, you know too much to make that one funny." Gunn flipped through the articles. "Whole Foods is pulling a line of microwaveable stuffed animals off the shelves."

"Why?"

"They don't like the message they send to kids."

"Which is?"

"That it's a-okay to put your pets in the microwave and nuke 'em."

"Right. That is disturbing, but not terribly conducive to shagging of any sort." Wesley rubbed his hands over his face. "What else is in there?"

"First cloned kitten?" Gunn handed over the colorful clipping of a fluffy gray and white kitten poking out of a Christmas stocking, reading the article it came with.

"Not terribly disturbing." Wesley smiled. "Rather adorable in fact."

"The disturbing part's in here."

"Which?"

"Genetic Savings and Clone Incorporated." Gunn paused. "Actually, I think I represented them last year."

"And to think you could have gotten a cloned kitten in your Christmas bonus if you'd stayed on."

"Dunno, man. They're evil, remember. I might've gotten a cloned kitten head in my Christmas bonus if there's some kind of magical hoodoo that needs one."

"Well, actually, there are several rituals that - you really don't want to hear about, do you?" Wesley caught his breath at finding Gunn's hand in his lap and rubbing. "You could have just said so. Er. Not that I mind this method of changing the topic."

"Just followin' Spike's orders, man."

"What - what were they again?"

"We read. We quip."

Gunn popped Wesley's button, and slid the zipper down, curling his fingers around Wesley with a grin Wesley was sure had never been quite so wicked when directed at Fred. And he was most certainly not getting harder thinking of Gunn and Fred and *Oh good lord, were his fingers always that long?!*

Wesley distantly heard Gunn finish his sentence, entirely too distracted by the shallow spiral of Gunn's middle finger barely breaching him. "Then, we fuck."

Wesley groped urgently through the couch-side drawer, grabbing and pressing a half-empty tube of slick into Gunn's hands. "Then get on with it, man!"

"Aw, now you've hurt my feelings." Gunn pulled his hand away, skirting Wesley's efforts to grab it and put it back. "Tryin' to rush me? Man, I'm a romantic."

"You're the one who went from - from cloned kittens to your hand in my trousers!" Wesley protested. "That's hardly taking it slow!"

"Well y'know what? You wanna take it fast?"

"You can hardly wind me up and leave me to hang."

Gunn looked down pointedly. "That ain't hangin' any time soon, Wes. You wanna take it fast?" Gunn stripped his tee shirt off, dropping it on the floor, then set to work on his jeans, a tiny smirk hovering on his lips. It threatened to turn into a grin when he lifted his hips, sliding jeans and boxers off and onto the floor and sprawling back against the arm of the couch, one hand brushing over his chest and stomach, coming to rest on his lower belly beneath the shadow of his cock. Which Wesley was watching with an expression too hungry to be as irritable as he was pretending. "Think I asked you a question, Wes."

"Are you sure Wolfram and Hart didn't implant evil into you as well?" Wesley snapped, which might have been more effective if he hadn't whimpered. "Oh, all right. Yes, damn you, I do want to take it fast because if you don't fuck me now I may very well combust on the spot, are you happy?"

Gunn tossed him the tube. "And they say the English are cold blooded."

"What's this for?"

"You wanna take it fast? You getta do the work." Gunn tucked his hands behind his head, wriggling down into the couch with one foot on the floor and the other taking up space next to a speechless Englishman. "And I get to watch."

Wesley groaned, tearing off his shirt and trousers, scrambling to untangle the trouser legs from his socks and kneeling up on the couch with a hiss, overheated bare skin meeting the December cold. "They did implant you with evil."

"And the entire 'Joy of Gay Sex', for some reason. Which I might be seein' fit to share with you if you're good."

Wesley whimpered. "Bloody hell."

"Less talk, more lube. This ain't goin' in without the slick."

"I thought you said you were a romantic." Wesley fumbled with the lubricant cap, squeezing it directly over Gunn's erection, pinning his hip roughly when he bucked and swore.

"Jesus! Couldn't warm it up first?"

"You don't appear to mind," Wesley replied, sliding the lube over Gunn's cock with both hands, twisting over the surface, dark and light until flesh gleamed and Gunn groaned.

"Minding less and less, and fuck, Wesley!" Gunn arched, slamming his hips up as Wesley slammed his down, seating himself trembling on Gunn's cock, legs splayed to the sides of his hips, hands pressed, shaking, over Gunn's chest. "Oh damn, English." He leaned up, framing Wesley's face gently with his hands, thumb catching the moisture beneath Wesley's eyelashes. "Didn't have to go that fast."

Wesley, breathing too hard to answer, too full to answer, leaned into Gunn's hands, lips and teeth scraping over one palm dangerously, though his body still shook, slow to accept the intrusion. "When I say 'now', I bloody well mean now."

"Hey, Wes?"

"What?" Wesley's eyes were closed, a line of concentration deepening between his brows as he shifted over Gunn, sparks and spangles dancing behind his eyelids.

"How do minks fuck?"

Wesley's eyes popped open and narrowed. "Evil," he accused, leveling a finger at Gunn that only shook a little now. "And bugger Spike and his animal fetish. Now fuck me properly, or your Christmas stocking isn't where I'll shove the coal."

"You orderin' me around, English?"

"For god's sake, yes! How many times do I have to ask you to- oh! Oh! Oh..."

"Like this?" Gunn grinned down at Wesley, now on his back on the cushions, and pulled his legs higher around his ribs.

"I thought you said I had to do all - all the work," Wesley said dazedly, biting his lip at the smooth, tight, burning slide of entirely too much cock inside, and it was lovely.

"Yeah, but someone just wanted to talk an' call me evil. And believe me, there is only one way to shut you up."

"Ahh. Shut me up more," Wesley insisted, looping his arms around Gunn's neck and dragging him down to be kissed.