Not Just a Shag by Criss Moody

Of all the bloody ridiculous, irresponsible, half-assed…Rupert Giles bit off the litany of curses boiling in his gut as he glared at his godson over his glasses. If the idiot didn't wipe that smirk off his face, Giles wouldn't be responsible for ripping the child's head off and using it to play football.

The "child" in question was just past his 30^th birthday, but he had the emotional maturity of a 10 year old, and a petulant 10 year old at that. Rupert didn't have very many old friends left that he spoke to, but his university roommate was one, and somehow he had ended up agreeing to offer up a spot of couch to the "nephew" he'd never met, bloke by the name of Stuart Alan Jones. And if Rupert weren't completely mistaken, Mr. Stuart Alan Jones was a homosexual of the highest order. Once again, Giles felt the urge to strangle something, preferably Stuart, as he watched the younger man rise from the couch and slink to his bags, which still rested near the front door.

Shaking himself out of his black reverie, Giles managed to find civil words for the beastly boy.

"So, you didn't mention how long you'd be staying, Stuart. You're welcome as long as you like of course, though I may have a lot of people in and out of here." Giles crossed his fingers and prayed to every deity he had ever heard of for some grand, horrible event of a mystical nature to erupt at that very moment. When nothing quaked or went poof, the elegant Englishman sighed.

"Nah, I just thought I'd be here for a few days. Got a little job to do down in LA, for my firm you understand, and Dad thought it'd be nice if I'd make an effort to visit ol' Uncle Rupert." Stuart put a delicious emphasis on the 't' in Rupert, his eyelids raising with the end of the name.

"Ah, well, too bad that…" Just as Giles started to lie through his teeth, the doorbell thankfully saved him.

Giles made various apologetic noises and brushed past the still smirking Stuart to open the door and find…Xander. Fuck it all. Could have been worse, could have been…Ethan. A small smile crossed Giles' face at the thought of what his old nemesis, friend, and lover could do to the elderly brat Stuart Alan Jones. Lost in delightful thoughts of a bound and gagged Stuart, Giles very nearly forgot that Xander stood in his doorway.

"Uh, Giles? Is your org…Olivia here? You've got one of those funny little smiles on your faces and ya know, I worry about those funny little… nyahaha, ah, hi, hello, who are you?"

"Eh, what?" Realizing that Xander had spoken to him, but was now was gaping at Stuart, who had crossed to the other side of the open door, Giles grew flustered and gestured for Xander to enter the apartment.

"Um, yes, sorry there Xander, this is my," he stumbled over the word, "nephew, Stuart, visiting from England."

Xander hesitantly moved into the apartment, and Giles tried to plaster a welcoming smile on his face for the boy. No need to scare the young man off. Xander could very well prove to be a handy buffer between himself and his unwelcome guest.

"Hello, Xander. That stand for anything?"

"Uh, yeah Alexander." The tall, muscled youth nervously took a chair near the couch as both men took seats on the couch, as far away from each other as possible, Stuart sitting on the far end away from Xander.

A painfully awkward silence filled the air. Much tapping of toes and fingers and grinding of teeth later, Giles looked up at Stuart, only to find his godson's intense gaze burning a hole in Xander's groin.

Bloody fucking hell.

If there was one thing that Giles knew all too well, it was that look, that "I'll fuck you, I'll take you so many ways you'll be sore in places you didn't know you had and you'll fucking beg for more" look.

Hell.

"Xander, did you need anything? You're not known for your random afternoon visits."

"Oh, um, yeah…" The flustered young man struggled to tear his gaze away from the sprawled figure on the couch. "Um…you said you needed me to take something to Angel? In my car? With the big, hard, knobby," Xander choked a bit, "stick shift?"

Giles resisted the urge to bury his head in his hands as he watched Xander's slacks become a bit less roomy, and Stuart's eyes trace the progress. He'd nearly forgotten about the sword. The sword of Ayuthan, named after the demon Ayuthan, had fallen into Giles' hands via some of his old Watcher connections. Since he'd heard that there was a bit of a Uoinon problem in LA, he had contacted Angel to see if he could find a use for the sword, as the Ayuthan metal caused Uoinons to disintegrate. As luck would have it, Cordelia had been in the midst of a vision when he called, concerning a nest of Uoinons tormenting the clubgoers. Rupert, however, had been in a quandary as to who to enlist to ferry the sword down to LA.

Buffy? Haaa, hhaaa, no. Not only did she not have a car, she was a rotten driver from what he'd heard, and of course there was the Angel problem. Oz was gone, so the van was out of the question. Giles didn't know Riley well enough, nor did he like him enough, to ask him for a favor. If Spike hadn't trashed his car, Rupert could have taken a small jaunt, but his beloved Citroen had been destroyed. That pretty much left one person.

Xander.

Always willing, always able…and he'd recently quit his latest job. Giles had thus far resisted the urge to give Xander any type of career advice. It was clear to the former Watcher that Xander would do well to look into some type of profession involving children. Xander was innately gentle and quite generous, and both character traits meshed well with his ability to be shockingly oblivious. Giles had called Xander earlier in the afternoon and the young man had jumped at the chance to go to LA. He had muttered something about Cordelia and careers. One did have to wonder.

"Yes, so sorry Xander. I've got the um…your package in the bedroom, I'll be right back. Excuse me Stuart." Nodding to Stuart as he rose, Giles saw the smirk rising on the handsome face and the sexual entendre of his recent words hit him. Bloody hell. Fortunately, it didn't appear that the double meaning had occurred to Xander, who currently found the ceiling quite fascinating.

Giles quickly retrieved the sword, putting it into a large black duffel bag. Now he could get rid of Xander, and then perhaps shoo Stuart out for a night on the town. If Giles was lucky, Stuart would find a hungry vampire. If Giles wasn’t lucky, Stuart would find a hungry and horny vampire. Rupert couldn’t think of a more obnoxious end to the night. Stuart Alan Jones as a vampire. He shuddered as he rejoined the tomb-like silence of his living room.

He silently handed off the weighed down bag to Xander, who stood by the door shuffling his feet. "Well then, I expect you'll be off?" Giles said, half-questioning, half-pleading with the two younger men to leave him to blissful silence.

Stuart spoke abruptly. "Would you like company? Now would be a good a time as any to head down to LA. Uncle Rupert and I had a nice little visit, but I think he has old things to dust or something."

"Uh, well, um…you could do that, yeah, um, sure why not?" The young man shifted on his feet, clearly avoiding Stuart's knowing smirk.

"Oh, yes, Xander, do you suppose you could drop Stuart off at his hotel in LA? No reason for him to waffle about here in Sunnydale." Giles hoped that he didn't sound too pathetically eager to be rid of Stuart.

Xander snapped out of his tile study to notice the black duffel in his hands and both Stuart and Giles giving him looks. The tops of his cheeks tinged red when Stuart opened the door with a flourish and gestured grandly with one hand. Xander nodded towards Giles and fled in the direction of the hand gesture, not even looking behind to see if his driving companion had followed.

Giles let out a long, forceful sigh as he pasted a sad yet joyous smile on his tired face. Finally, he could return to his study of the Books of Xionan. "Well now, Stuart, nice to see you again, do call, ta ta." Giles smiled until his not-really-sorta-kinda relative had picked up his expensive leather bags and followed Xander out the door. Then the thick wooden door closed with a thud.

~~~~~

Los Angeles: 101 miles

Los Angeles: 78 miles

"So, you going to talk to me or just sit there being all stoic and manly?" The whiskey colored British voice cut into the silence filling the car and made the car weave to the other side of the road when Xander's hands slipped on the wheel. Of all the things Giles had ever asked him to do, even bury gooey demon parts, this had to be the cruelest, most inhumane request. For the last hour, Xander had felt Stuart Alan Jones' crisply attentive eyes travel over every bit of his lean, muscled, young frame as he watched the miles fade away between Sunnydale and LA. It felt like the other man was attempting to bore inside Xander's frame to better seduce him.

Not that he was seducible. No, no, no, and may it be said again, no! No happies with guys for this puppy, none whatsoever. Let's just ignore the massive boner which had appeared when Russell Crowe as Maximus had strode across the screen. Willow had claimed to see droolage, but the judges were still out on that one. In any case, Alexander LaVelle Harris did not, ever, under any circumstances, find any male type anything attractive, at all. Seriously.

Unfortunately, Mr. Jones appeared to have a talent for disregarding stern inner dictums issued by his prey, which is exactly what Xander felt like. At this point, the young man was shocked his straining erection hadn't burst out of his pants. As it was, he could tell that there was a nice tent shape going on down there and Stuart hadn't let it escape his notice. The Irishman had been staring at the oddly tented fabric for about fifteen minutes.

"Uh, well, sure, we could…um, talk, yeah, sounds like a good idea." Xander gripped the wheel as tightly as possible with his clammy hands and prayed that his companion wanted to discuss crop prices or computer viruses or even more deadly boring things like books.

The forefinger travelling down his upper arm to his groin alerted Xander to the fact that Mr. Jones had absolutely no desire to 'talk'.

"Don't think I'm being rude but…what the hell are you doing??!!??"

Stuart leaned in and sucked Xander's earlobe into his mouth. Almost panting into the sensitive shell, Stuart spoke. "Giving you a blowjob…you might want to pull over."

Truth be told, the decision didn't take long. Blowjob parked vs. blowjob driving vs. no blowjob. Hormones guided Xander's car to the side of the road as the young man somewhat reluctantly gave into his physical desire. Despite his adventures with Anya, Xander oddly enough wasn't pro-sex for the hell of it. He cared for Anya. He enjoyed her body, but there was something more there than lust. With this man currently unbuttoning Xander's shirt and unzipping his pants, there was a whole lotta lust and a whole lotta nothing else.

Everything else jetted out of Xander's fogged mind as the talented mouth of one Stuart Alan Jones engulfed his bobbing cock.

~~~~~

An hour later, the pair finally coasted into Los Angeles, a bit more rumpled for their adventures. Xander had managed to convince Stuart to wait for a real bed, sheets, a shower and other such amenities. Xander's first handjob, somewhat clumsily delivered, hadn't hurt his case. First drop off sword, then find bed and…fuck. Xander felt a painful tingle in his gut at the thought of having this smooth man's cock up his ass, his torso gliding along Xander's back. The images of the act made Xander dizzy, but the person performing them with him gave Xander pause. It didn't look right. Stuart wasn't tall, he wasn't all musclely, he wasn't dead, he wasn't a lot of things that Xander had built into his own private fantasy model who just happened to actually exist, if you used the term 'exist' pretty loosely. So, Xander had a little bit of a thing for undead hunks. So what? He wouldn't touch that nest of vipers in a million years, not even if Buffy herself handed him over on a silver platter with honey. Or even chocolate. And definitely not with strawberries and freshly whipped cream. Nope, no vampires for Xander. Just heartbreakingly sexy Brits with a tendency to not take no for an answer.

Xander felt Stuart's knowledgeable tongue once again flit around his ear and into the sensitive skin on the inside of the lobe. Predictably, his young manhood perked up when warm air rolled over moist skin. As they approached Angel's apartment building, Xander felt hope leap at the lack of a familiar black convertible. Then, hope took a dive for his left toe when he realized that lack of car didn't necessarily mean lack of Angel.

Reminding himself that faint heart never won fair cock, Xander turned off the car. He took a deep breath before grabbing the duffel bag from the back seat. When he finally dared to glance at his newfound friend, Stuart stood with his back leaning against the other side of the vehicle, his strong arms crossed over his torso. The foreign man never gave any sign that he saw Xander coming until he snatched Xander's arm, pulling their bodies together. A gasp slipped through Xander before Stuart sucked his tongue into his mouth, nursing the delectable appendage as if it contained the finest milk. After several minutes of ravaging his young friend's oral cavity, Mr. Jones broke off the kiss, smiling at the befuddled expression his actions had wrought. Glistening wet lips, slightly parted, a delicate tongue edging out to taste the racy combination of Xander and Stuart mingling on the curving flesh gave Xander so many mixed signals he wasn't sure whether to fuck the other man in the back seat or run.

Sword, think sword. Hand over sword, then sex, much sex. "Ok, uh, this is, uh, it." Great response lame-boy. Good thing he doesn't want you for your sharp and witty conversation.

"Brilliant, let's hurry this along shall we?" An element of unwilling patience threaded into the other man's oddly unemotional voice.

"Right, no problem." Xander nearly drooled as he watched his lean seducer rub his hand down the front panel of his tight jeans. Hard, straining, eager flesh…. "Right, hurrying now." The handsome youth nearly flew up the stairs, Stuart close behind him.

Door, Angel Investigations, right, grasp doorknob, open doorknob. Xander's mind had been reduced to simplistic thought. He threw the door open, holding the duffel in front of him as if to keep a distance between his body and the office only to find a very surprised Cordelia paused in the act of thumbing through stack of papers at her desk.

"Hey, Cordy, sword delivery service, at your service." With that elegantly phrased announcement, Xander dropped the sword at his ex-girlfriend's feet, barely missing smooshing her toes.

"Great going, Style and Grace. Who's the tag-along?" Cordelia gestured at Stuart, who stood in the doorway. Made at ease by Cordelia's easy acceptance of Xander's presence, the young man relaxed.

"This is Stuart, Giles' nephew. He needed a ride, and I offered to give him a hand…with that." Xander nearly choked as his words once again drifted into sexual innuendo territory.

"Whatever. Angel had to head over to Dry Lust, a club downtown, to head off the Unions…I never knew the creepy crawlies could unionize, I really don't think that's fair."

Xander restrained himself from rolling his eyes at Cordelia's use of 'union' for 'Uoinon.' "So, I guess that means you'll be delivering the sword, huh?" He rolled up to his tiptoes and back, hoping against faint hope that Cordelia planned to take over the sword business so that Xander could take care of the heavy, urgent business in his pants.

"Hardly. Angel's expecting you anyway, so go, deliver." An emphatic nod and a dismissive swipe of her hand dismissed the lower creatures from the Queen's presence and she returned to her paper thumbing.

Super. Another hour or more before skin boiling Nirvana. Could have been worse; Cordelia could have been in a talkative mood. Shuddering at the idea, Xander turned around and followed out Stuart, who was way ahead with the 'faster we drop off the sword, the sooner we can fuck' concept than Xander.

And off we go to the wild world of clubbing…clubbing with a tall, lean, vampire who had 'fuck me' written all over his body, if not his forbidding visage. A illicit twitch in Xander's cock as they pulled away from Angel Investigations told him that his desire for Angel hadn't been totally quashed.

Yeehaw.

~~~~~

Angel had a migraine. If anyone tried to tell him that vampires couldn't get migraines, he'd squash their little mortal heads like happy little melons. It wouldn't get rid of the persistent, agonizing throbbing running up and down his spinal column and into the base of his neck, but the squashing would give him something to do. Trust in Angel - vampires can, and do, get migraines. Three hours surrounded by hot, stinky, unavailable for snack mortals, tragically bad techno music, and abysmally mellow conversation can give anyone a migraine, even the undead. Angel had gotten four offers for four different sexual acts just in his first hour of standing at the bar. Since then, he had moved to various stations around the tightly packed club but had continued to receive propositions. Funny, he had no desire to lick any type of illegal substance off anyone's shoulder, stomach, or other body part. To sum it all up, Angel was not happy.

Xander should have been here almost an hour ago with the sword. Until Angel got the sword, he couldn't do anything about the large Uoinon orgy going on under the club. Until the undead and unavailable hunk could deal with said orgy, he couldn't leave. Angel couldn't leave because Xander hadn't arrived. Angel flexed his hands at the thought of having the boy's limbs under them. Sweet, warm, arching into his…fuck.

This was so not the time to indulge in his sweetest fantasy. Not a complex fantasy - just Xander naked and begging for Angel to fuck him. Simple, huh? Possible, however, it was not. Angel shifted to ease the sudden tightness in his groin area. Hopefully, any minute now, a familiar face would appear in the club and Angel could get the sword, send familiar temptation on his merry way, and break up a demon sex orgy.

As Angel concentrated on battle strategy, as in should he just kill, kill, kill, or kill, question, kill, question, a familiar face entered the club, attached to a very unfamiliar face. A quick exchange between the two dark-haired men produced a smirk from the unknown and a resigned expression from the well-known man. The taller man tried his best to keep a good grip on his burden, a black duffel , while his companion moved into him, his hips grinding with the syrupy beat of the music. In tandem, cocks covered by denim and cotton met, greeted each other with a soft rub, followed by a more serious rub, eliciting a frustrated groan from the younger man. When the aggressor, clearly the older man, laved his target's neck, running his tongue up to the delectable ear, Angel saw them. The painfully erotic sight did nothing to help the vampire's hard-on. The men on the floor ground together, moving to the music, their bodies slowly turning. Both men had muscles, one struck Angel as familiar, as if he had seen and lusted after that body before. Huh. The truth snapped Angel out of his hard-on and into a full-fledged, ready-to-go erection.

That wasn't just any handsome young buck grinding against a stranger out there - that was Xander. His Xander. Every possessive, dominate instinct remaining in Angel woke up and howled. That body belonged to Angel. Not a logical thing to feel at the moment, but since when did logic mix well with lust?

At the moment, demon orgies were the last thing on Angel's mind. His mission in coming to the club all but forgotten, the handsome hero stalked across the floor, his prey sighted. The smarmy, smirking…creature attached to his possession would look nice as a wall decoration…

Angel shook his head and stopped dead, pardon the pun, in the middle of the dance floor, just feet from where the stranger and Xander danced. What was he thinking? He had no rights to Xander, and human wall decorations belonged firmly in Angelus' realm, not Angel's.

His demon and his soul fought a brief, but futile battle. When the stranger bit Xander's neck, the demon made a huge leap forward in the 'do I pounce or not' poll. Angel howled, the timbre of his voice reaching out and shaking the room. The entire club stilled, their spines freezing, their hair tingling, and their instincts telling them to run far, far away.

~~~~~

For the first time since entering the club, Xander remembered why he was there. It had something to do with Angel. Huh, odd. Then, he heard it. An unearthly cry, sending every muscle, every cell of his skin, into convulsions. Nothing living could make that cry. Maybe Angel made that cry. As Xander attempted to reason out why Angel would be in his bedroom while a strange, but oddly appealing Irishman fucked the brains out of the young man, Xander had an epiphany.

An epiphany in the form of an over six foot, dark, swarthy, steaming with…something vampire. Vampire? Oh, just Angel. Xander's passion-fogged mind recognized the mysterious presence of his old crush just as the vampire ripped his body away from Stuart's. Xander watched, befuddled, as Angel held Stuart at arm's length, ignoring the man's protests to be let down. Xander felt a wave of fear, accompanied by an inkling of what was going on.

He had been making out, read dancing, with Stuart when he was supposed to be delivering a sword to Angel. Angel had seen them dancing. Now, Angel seemed to be bent on hurting Stuart.

Xander's head pounded with too loud music, a painful hard-on, and complete confusion. He placed a hesitant arm on Angel's shoulder. Startled, the vampire turned to the mortal, and Xander almost jumped when he saw the demon mask.

"Uh, Angel, strangling my driving companion won't get you the sword, and I don't recommend randomly flashing your Vampires-R-Us card." Cowed, Angel slipped back into his human face, slowly releasing Stuart.

"Look, here's the sword, uh…" Xander trailed off, unsure of where to go with the conversation. Half of him wanted to go fuck Stuart, be fucked, anything to release the pressure in his groin. The other half desperately needed to know why Angel, scourge of the undead and brooding romantic hero, had reacted so violently to Xander's vertical mambo with Stuart.

Angel grabbed the sword, and looked at Stuart. A surprising bit of understanding passed between them, but of what Xander didn't have a clue. The vampire started off to complete his night's duty, but suddenly reversed his steps. Three quick strides and he stood nose to nose with Xander.

And kissed him.

Wet. That came first. Then, not as cold as he'd thought it would be. Lastly, as Angel's tongue stabbed into his mouth, lacing the cavern with icy, soul-ripping want, came right. It seemed wet, not that cold, and disturbingly right for Angel to possess his mouth, and anything else he wanted.

The now calm vampire broke off the ravaging kiss. Standing back from Xander's body, letting it sway into the space between their bodies, Angel grinned.

"Wait for me at the office." Angel practically skipped off the dance floor, leaving a gaping Xander and a pissed, but bemused Stuart behind.

Xander tried at least 10 times to get his throat to allow sound out but it was a big no go. He was still making vague squeaky noise when they reached the car. Stuart released his arm and pushed him into the driver's seat, hastily joining him on the other side. The Irishman looked expectantly at the young man behind the wheel, and smirked. Xander was starting to think that Stuart didn't have any other kind of expressions, just smirk, extra smirk, and supercalifradgilous smirk. Disturbed by the penetrating gaze aimed at him, Xander did what he did best.

He yammered.

"Sorry about that, ya know, Angel's always been a little bit unstable and I'm not really sure why and I'm sure that now is the time for me to shut up and for us to get out of here." When he put the key into ignition, Stuart spoke.

"Look, Xander, it's been great really. But as much as I'd like to be well acquainted with your body, I'm not about to mess with that bloke. I'm pretty sure he thinks he owns you, and besides," Stuart paused to take his companion's face between his hands, glowing with a uncharacteristic empathy, "I think you need him a lot more than you think you do. You're not just a shag, and that's all you'd be to me. Take me to this bloody office; I'll call a cab from my cell on the way."

Xander didn't move. This was a first for him, being turned down because he wasn't a kind of carpet.

"Well?"

A goofy grin appeared on Xander's face and he hastily shoved the key. The classic vehicle lurched out of it's parking place, and became just another stream of light on a LA highway in seconds.

~~~~~

With little fanfare, or even a goodbye, Stuart leapt from the car to the waiting cab outside of Angel Investigations with a quick lick of Xander's cheek. Left to his own devices, and unfortunately thoughts, Xander sank to the front steps, not willing to commit to his course of action. He wasn't entirely sure he even had a course of action. This was nuts. What was he going to do, throw Angel down and ravish him? Mortals did not ravish the undead. As a general rule, Xander was fairly sure that the undead generally did the seducing, the ravishing, and then possibly the vicious killing. Undead creatures didn't usually go in for romantic evenings, unless you counted a romantic evening of rending limbs from bodies. It wasn't too late to leave. Angel had probably been hyped up for the fight, yeah, that was it, ol' Deadboy got horny, and ya know vampire's aren't really choosy about the genitalia on their sexual partners, so Xander was just convenient.

If it were at all possible, the thought made Xander even more depressed. He didn't want to just be convenient to Angel. He could admit that at the very least. He wanted…he needed Angel to look at him the way the brooding hunk looked at Buffy, like the deceptively innocent young woman possessed all the secrets to the universe, including the one about how people lived happily ever after.

There. He'd admitted it. Xander was a vampire whipped pussy boy, no doubt about it. The ball, however, did appear to be in his court. Angel probably expected him to be freaked, anxious, and nervous about whatever was going to happen.

Well, he'd just have to show that undead stud to never underestimate Alexander LaVelle Harris.

~~~~~

Much to Angel's delight, Uoinons evaporated upon decapitation, leaving no muss, no fuss, not even dust to be Hoovered up. Angel still, however, refrained from stripping his clothes off as he descended into his apartment via the staircase. He wanted out of the clothes which lay too heavily on his sensitive skin, but he also didn't want to send Xander into a full-blown panic.

With that thought in mind, Angel stepped quietly into the apartment, headed for the open bedroom door.

Only to find a nude Xander sprawled on his bed. A nude Xander who's hand stroked his own cock with a slow, deliberate glide. Xander appeared to be in no hurry to come; he was luxuriating in the journey.

Angel's mouth dropped open and for the first time since his 13^th birthday, when he lost his virginity to a particularly attractive friend of his mother's, he didn't know how to react.

"I have this fantasy. Wanna hear my fantasy?"

Can I be your fantasy? Angel almost groaned as his cock rose, pressing against his tight jeans. Tonight was not the best of nights to be without underwear. The raspy denim scraped his tender cock.

"Well, actually, I'm gonna tell you anyway, so you can be quiet. I have this dream, this fucking hot dream where you come into my apartment, late at night. You're looking for me because the Gang is needed to save the world, and hey, the Gang needs their Donut Guy, right? When you come in, there's no one there, but you know I’m coming back so you decide to wait. Laying on unmade couch bed are several glossy magazines. In boredom, you pick one up and almost immediately drop it. A glistening nude male, inhumanly large cock in hand, presents his beautiful body to the reading, or rather viewing, audience for their pleasure."

A whimper eased out of Angel's tight throat. He wasn't entirely sure where this was heading, but he felt helpless. And somehow, that just made the lustful burn go deeper.

"And pleasure he does indeed induce. A shocking heat steals over your skin, raising goosebumps and other things. You throw the magazine down in an effort to ignore the tendrils of lust in your belly. A low, breathy something distracts you, makes you turn your head. There, something behind a screen in the far corner. The something morphs into a moan, a moan of what could be a name. You hear a splash, and the tinkle of water on porcelain. Determined to grab me and get out of there, you move with purpose towards the screen."

Xander paused, breathing deeply and squirming, digging his bare ass deeper into the soft sheets. Entranced, Angel avidly looked on as Xander cupped his balls, running his thumb over them in turn.

"You never expected to see what's behind that screen. I'm naked, my ass turned to you, my cock rock hard, jutting out from my body. That's not the shocking part. The real shocker comes when I take a handful of ice and water, drench a thin towel in it, and slap it on to my cock. You can almost see steam rise from where the chilly ice runs down my prick. Then, running a stray piece of ice down my cock and around the ruby-red head, I grunt your name."

A tiny light clicked on in Angel's head. Xander had turned the tables on the much older man. Cheeky little bastard. He'd have to show him who was boss.

Xander's eyes slid open to see Angel loom over his body. Suddenly unsure of his plan, the young man attempted to get away, but found his lower body trapped by Angel's. Intense chocolate eyes warned him to stay put while the vampire stripped his shirt off and unbuttoned his black jeans to reveal his cock. His lengthy, purpled manhood nearly burst free from the pants before Angel had thumbed away the last button.

Xander discovered that he was having trouble breathing as he started to think about all the times that Angel had probably gone commando. Just one layer of fabric between Xander and cock. Vampire cock that never gave up, never got tired, and was supposed to have a startlingly quick recovery time. Reading makes more than our speaking English good.

A soft grunt flew from Xander's chest as Angel leaned down and brought their lips together, touching but not kissing. Without speaking, the two men fell into each other, delighting in the softness of brown eyes, the lean cut of a jaw, and the high nibble quality of pink lips. The first touch of Angel's lips on his stopped all thought in Xander's usually busy brain. Cool, rough, but smooth in places, his vampire lover's lips brushed against his. Sighing into Xander's mouth, Angel nudged the boy's tongue with his own, visibly reacting to the heat of the mortal's mouth with an involuntary movement of his hips.

Bringing his arms from under Angel's body, Xander hesitantly placed them on Angel's shoulders. The vampire smiled against Xander's mouth, deepening the kiss. Encouraged, the young man boldly lowered his large hands, running them down Angel's smooth back. Finally, his hands rested on Angel's lower back, the pants riding low enough to reveal a shadowed curve down the middle. One finger entered the curve, caressing the cool skin there. Panting, Angel ripped away from the kiss. He took Xander's face into his hands and rained kisses on the warm face.

At the first forbidden feel of Angel's cold, silken cock against his own, Xander gave up all thought of stopping, of saying 'Ha, just kidding. I don't really want you to fuck me until I walk like Wesley on crack.' Just the feel of that flesh encased power, held in rein only by Angel's amazing self-control, infused Xander with a feeling he'd often emulated, but never truly felt.

Bone-melting passion.

Their hips settled into a rhythm, sending a mortally warm cock and a cold vampire cock to thrust against each other. The feel of cock, then crinkled pubic hair, then smooth hip against his own cock sent Xander's eyes lolling back in his head. Pre-cum oozed out of his cock, making a slick channel out of the area between Angel's hipbone and his cock. Xander took the hand still on Angel's shoulder down to the musky, dark, hot area between their groins. He swiped a finger across Angel's manhood and shakily disentangled his arm from between their arching bodies. When he put the finger to his lips, tasting the sweaty, salty, curiously cool taste of Angel's essence, Xander felt his control slip, and give way. He cried out, his hands grasping at Angel's ass, as he felt his come jet out, shooting up their chests and dripping onto the sheets. Xander rode out the orgasm, continuing to grind up against Angel. Finally, the vampire snarled, his cry tearing the air with its savagery, his come flooding cold, mingling with the warm spicy stuff already there.

The legendary quick recovery time of vampires took on a new meaning for Xander when he felt the icy cock of his lover still stabbing into his stomach. Then, two fingers dragged through the still warm pool of semen on his stomach. A hard digit quested entrance to his ass, slipping in as Xander nodded frantically, his body twisting with the need for more, more touch, more anything that came from Angel. Two fingers rubbed into his hole, and one flicked his hidden pleasure nubbin, sending echoes of haunting pleasure through his body. Everything in Xander's world centered around the two fingers preparing his ass. The feelings flew higher in intensity when the blunt end of Angel's cock, covered in spit and semen, began to beg entry.

Xander nearly bit through his bottom lip. It hurt, full and painful and he fought to contain the wild scream welling in his gut. Inch by inch the feeling changed, he concentrated on accepting the thickness, and felt Angel's cock sink into him as Xander pushed outward slightly with his inner muscles. Just as he began to feel ok with having the thick flesh in his body, the cock bumped into his prostate, sending his limbs into uncontrollably violent shakes. Angel began to move, in and out, and the bundles of nerves in Xander's body went haywire. Slow, agonizingly gentle, Angel worked his cock in and out of Xander, waiting for his young lover to recover. The vampire felt Xander's body quiver after long moments of whispers and soft touches, and saw the meaty length of the mortal cock begin to fill with blood. Xander squeezed his knees up as tightly against his body as he could, nodding frantically when Angel asked him silently if the vampire could continue.

Quick, so hard, the cock rammed in, all pain gone, lost to a nasty hot fast fuck, cock bolting in on semen, maybe a little bit of blood, but Xander couldn't feel that, he didn't care. He only felt the flood of pleasure, sparks of pleasure and intense lust shooting through every bit of his body. When he chanced to look down, to see the connection between their bodies, the thick rod easing out and thrusting back in, he shattered into a surprising orgasm, shuddering and jerking, harder and longer before, held aloft on the agonizing pleasure for an eternity as Angel fucked his ass. Only when Angel rammed in one last time, and succumbed to the hard pulsing of Xander's ass on his cock, did Xander feel some sense return to his head. Breathing hard, he could do nothing but exhale and inhale.

In a fog, Xander registered that Angel had slipped out his body, and he could feel sore already. Angel eased the young man's legs down straight, and encouraged Xander to roll onto one hip. Sliding in behind the sweaty mortal, Angel spooned up against Xander, softly kissing the back of his neck. Before Angel could even say, "Goodnight," Xander's snores rumbled through the apartment.

~~~~~

"…important things to do." A low gravelly voice coaxed Xander out of his slumber. Yawning, Xander hugged the fluffy pillow below his body, cuddling the softness to his skin.

"You still don't believe me? I’m an alien!" Huh? Ok, maybe Cordelia's voice had lowered an octave and changed sex and she was rehearsing for a part outside of Angel's bedroom. Scrambling for the robe at the end of the bed - Angel must have laid it out for him - Xander reluctantly left the comfort and relative security of the dark bedroom. What he saw scared the hell out of him.

Angel was watching Stargate SG-1. The show so involved the vampire that he hadn't heard the thump of Xander's bare feet against the floor.

"Deadboy, I never took you for a sci-fi freak." Xander's full-blown jovial tone betrayed a slight shiver. His arms fell parallel to his body, hands in tight fists. //I'm not nervous//, he thought, //oh, no, not at all.//

Surprised, Angel shot up from his seat on the couch, shutting the small thirteen inch television off as he rose.

"Uh, yeah, well, I guess I have this thing for impossible relationships." Xander and Angel both winced, Xander because he assumed that Angel meant his doomed love for Buffy, and Angel because he hadn't meant to betray his feelings for Xander so quickly. Yes, he wanted a relationship with Xander, but he didn't need to scare the young mortal away before he had a chance to break that to him gently. To Angel's way of thinking, a relationship had a whole load of scary connotations when that relationship would be with a blood-sucking demon of the souled variety. Slow, calm, that was the way to deal with this.

"So, when can you move in?" Angel mentally smacked himself. Whatever happened to slow and calm in the whole five seconds from thought to speech? Probably to the same place that socks from the dryer went.

"Let me see…quit my job, break-up with Anya, tell Buff and the others I'm moving in with a demon…give me a week."

Angel blinked. If he wasn't mistaken, Xander appeared to be one hundred percent, bonafide serious about moving in with Angel. Huh, go figure. The vampire had figured he'd have to at least have to fuck Xander into next week before the young man would agree to anything so permanent. He had a lot to learn about the mortal. Looked like he'd have a long time to learn.

A snarky, secretive grin spread over Angel's face. At sight of it, Xander started backing up, retreating into the bedroom. A loud, "Hey, watch what you pull, Deadboy," and silence reigned supreme.

For the time being.