| |
| [ Something Like] by ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) mimesereGunn/Wesley. Sweet and fluffy. It's still a surprise to Gunn that after everything he's seen and done, Wesley can still retreat into a full body blush whenever someone says anything suggestive. Stammers and looks away and prudes right on up, all prissy and English, like he's never done anything that'd get him dirty. Gunn knows that's a lie. He's seen Wes beat up and bloody and covered in blue stuff, scraped and muddy and even with all that, Wesley comes in every day in neatly pressed clothes, glasses firmly in place, and it always, always makes Gunn want to mess him up a little.
Nothing big, just a little something to wipe out the perfection. | |
|
| [ Latency] by shriftWesley/Gunn. Lovely read. Gunn laughed again at his muffled voice, a full, earthy sound that filled their office with something other than a spider plant -- that Cordelia was slowly watering to death -- and a dusty set of very cheap office furniture. Cordelia's small attempts at interior decorating had helped, to be sure, but the small, tidy office always felt mostly empty to Wesley unless Gunn was there. Gunn made it feel like home.
Wesley knew it was obvious that he felt that way, but for once in his life, was content with being obvious. Cordelia didn't seem to mind, Angel pretended at obliviousness, and Gunn…
Yes, well. He had yet to see about Gunn.
He had yet to see if those slow, warm smiles and the constant, teasing press of Gunn's hands meant something. Something more than Wesley was used to.
Or not accustomed to, since very few people had made a habit of touching him.
And touch was something he craved. | |
|
| |
