(no subject)
I posted this the other day in my regular LJ, and it was pointed out to me that since it's both horror and smut and has William in it, it might make a decent sickchicks fic. It seems to be developing into a series, so I decided to go for it and post here.
"Love is Still My Argument"
Xander/William
~ NC17 ~
Setting: Diverges from canon post "The Replacement", BtVS Season 5 and heads off into AU-land
* One *
Xander sees him first in a gay-friendly coffee shop in Haight-Asbury, refilling his cup from the urns with the kind of wary look around that says he's not sure if he should be doing that. Yeah, the sign reads "Free Refills", loud and bold, but he has a sort of quiet nervousness about him that says he's afraid he'll be caught. Punished for stealing. He's unusual enough in the middle of all the rowdy college kids - a man a little older than the rest, shy and quiet - wondering if he has the right to more java.
It's enough to make him put his cup down and watch.
See, Xander figures you can tell a lot about a man by the way he takes his coffee. Of course, he knows that's just his point of view and ergo (hey, big word) bullshit to the rest of the world, but as a philosophy it works for him. And when a person spends as much time in cafes as he does, he's discovered he's not often wrong.
Of course, he's cruising for those guys he's watching get their coffee, so he can be pretty sharp-eyed about it. He's got a classification system, and it doesn't often fail him.
Black means they're straight-up, straightforward. No time for creamer or sugar or crap like that. In bed, they want it hot and hard and fast. Nice, when you're in the mood for that, but tempting as it might be Xander's not up (no pun intended) for that tonight.
Then there are the ones who take milk - non-fat, half-and-half, creamer, whatever - they like it bitter, but smooth. Maybe they're wearing Lennon sunglasses, and they'll be cool as can be. Whatever you want, man, that's fine. Good material for a rhapsody in lavender next open mic night.
And okay, maybe he's a little sarcastic about that one, but he's had enough finger-snapping improv artists for a while. Poems about "Alexander the Great" don't mix with blending in and keeping his profile low. He knows he's good. He just likes to keep that a surprise. Who wants to be wanted for what you've got in your engine compartment?
Well... maybe him, on occasion. But he guesses he's being picky tonight.
Sugar men, now those are sweet. They're the cuddlers, the ones who give you tender kisses and want to hold you after it's over, fall asleep in your arms and get up to a breakfast of bacon (or granola) and snuggles in front of the TV (or a walk in the park).
He thinks he's in the mood for a sugar man. Someone to hold. A guy who likes it sweet and warm, something to cradle in the palm of his hand. Who'll wrap his lips around it like it's milk and honey, and suckle like a bee on a flower until you burst open into bloom.
So he's interested, really interested, in seeing what this shy man is putting in his coffee. He hesitates, hovering over the choices. And Xander can't blame him for that. It's a confusing world, sometimes. He's never seen this man in here before, with his curling wheat-colored hair, scholar's glasses, and delicate hands. Nice hands. Fingers that could stroke you all night long if you coaxed them sweetly enough.
God, he hopes this guy is a sugar man.
He's waiting and watching. Trying to be patient. Admitting to himself he's a little more than curious now. Feeling the heat build from the bottom of his stomach and burn down through his legs. Wanting him to be the one he goes home with tonight, if he just turns out to be the right guy for the part.
Why so fascinated? He toys with his spoon and watches, fascinated. There's just something about this one, so hesitant and shy. Eyes the shade of exotic ocean water behind those glasses, glancing around like he's trying to figure it all out for himself. Xander bets his spunk tastes like candied almonds, cherry-fresh and sweet.
But he's got to be patient. When someone young and buzz-cut and muscled bumps his arm and grins at him, the man jumps and smiles nervously. Excuses himself, like that was his fault. That gets him an uneasy eye up and down, like Mr. Young's measuring up those lips and hands against the "wary" sign stamped on his forehead. Deciding, after a second, it's not worth it.
Good. The man is so newly out, Xander can tell that now. Daring to test his limits. Not sure of himself yet. And if you don't know who you are, how can you know what you want?
And if he's going home with anyone tonight, it's gonna be Xander.
Those long fingers hover over the cups and bowls and pitchers and sprinklers again and finally - finally - make their choice. Pure white sugar, two spoonfuls. And then pure, heavy cream, to make it thick and give it body.
A cream-and-sugar man. Sweet. Rich and full of flavor. Shy as a wild kitten, and probably purrs just as sweetly once you rub his... stomach. Xander takes a long sip of his own coffee, full of the same blend, and smiles to himself.
Bingo.
So he stands up when the man takes his cup back to his table, and manages to be in his way when he's wanting to move past. Turns to him with the warm, generous smile that's gotten so many sugar men into his bed in the past, and puts a hand on his shoulder. "Sorry," he says, before the other one can. "My fault."
The guy blushes. Faint and pink as a tea rose. "I beg your pardon," he murmurs, uncertain and afraid - "I nearly made you spill your cup."
"You could make me do more than that." Xander reaches up to touch his face. God. He's even got an accent, a sweet taste of England in that voice. The man flinches a little, but when Xander strokes his lip with the ball of his thumb he softens, staring with those wide, wide eyes. "I'm Xander."
"W-William," the man stammers. "William. Is my name."
"Good name." Xander slides his hand down that chest and hooks it into his collar. Tugs teasingly, gently. Can't scare him off. "I've got a free seat here. Want to share the table?"
That gets a smile from him, a sweet smile, just like he knew there could be. The blush deepens just a bit. He nods, and Xander feels himself start to fall.
Suddenly, it's more than just flirtation. It's real. And it's interesting. And he wants to know this man, this William. Find out what he's doing in a coffee meat-market. What brought him there. Why. And would he really like to go home with Xander, instead of being charmed through all his naivete into blindly following?
He's a sweet cream-and-sugar man, and Xander's more interested than ever. "Then sit," he invites, patting the chair. "Let me get to know you."
So William does.
And that's just the start of it all.
* Two *
Sweet William, it's so clear he has no idea what to do here, so it's Xander who takes the lead in everything. It's nice. He hasn't had a true cherry boy in... feels like years... and William is better than a boy, because Xander's not a kid anymore himself. Takes away that edge of "could-be-arrested" panic. Gives it a "want to be bad?" feeling that he'd like to share. So he keeps it up with the light touches, the gentle invitations. Suggestions of what could be.
Only one problem. William is a poet, after all. He's got a notebook stuffed in his jacket pocket, crinkled up and ragged, with a pen shoved through the spiral.
Xander decides that first thing, once they're back at his place, that jacket and notebook go. Into the farthest corner, if he has his way. From the way William's warming up to his moves, even daring - once - to lay a tentative hand on Xander's thigh - he thinks his odds are better than good it'll happen.
Maybe even that night.
No, he thinks, watching William slip his notebook back into his pocket with an embarrassed smile, definitely tonight. He's thirsty for more than coffee, now, and he knows what fountain he wants to drink from. What altar he feels like worshiping at. Who he's going to show what being appreciated is all about.
Took him years to learn that lesson. Ages of clumsiness and stumbling in his own shoes before he became who he is now - all pierced ears and snug-fitting shirts and easy confidence, knowing how to get his own way.
So after getting William a refill and watching that slim throat work as he swallows, feeling his jeans get tighter and tighter, Xander decides "what the hell?" and asks him if he wants to continue this elsewhere.
William blushes. He stammers some things that Xander can't really understand, with the accent and all, then stops, staring at him. But there's a plea in those eyes that he totally identifies with. Want me. Need me. Take me home. Last puppy in the shop, and feeling the loneliness.
Xander curls his hand around William's and squeezes. "That a yes, then?"
And William nods. It's a yes.
* Three *
He keeps it decent as they pay their bill, and on the short walk home to his studio apartment, but the hunger's ever-growing for a sample of this sweet sugar man. By the time he's locked his battered door behind them and thrown his keys on the kitchen counter, Xander can't wait any longer for that first long taste.
William's hand is curled inside his own - has been, since they set foot outside - and he uses it to pull him closer. Full contact, body-to-body, letting him feel how hard he's gotten just looking at those curls and fingers. William gasps softly, Xander grins, and swallows both their air in a kiss that's mean to shatter him gently apart.
Works, too. He's a good kisser. He's lost track of how many men have come in here, but they all walk away satisfied and every one of them has a healthy worship for Xander's tongue. One of the best-exercised muscles in his body, and it knows how to work someone else's flesh until they're cursing or calling out to God for mercy.
He plans on hearing both kinds of cries from William tonight.
It helps that he's so soft and pliant in Xander's arms, crumpling against him like a rose petal in the grip of that kiss. His lips part when Xander strokes them with his tongue, melting away the join between, and slips in to flick lightly at the roof of his mouth. He doesn't let go as he does everything he knows - runs it along William's teeth, strokes it in broad stripes against his own tongue, tickles the inside of his cheeks.
Then he teaches him, only letting him go for gulps of air, how to play back. What it's like to twist and tangle the mobile organs together, to suck one into your mouth and bite at it ever so gently, and how to go on the attack to take what you want. It's a clever tongue, and it learns all those new tricks so sweetly that Xander can't wait to see what it does on the rest of his body.
He slips his hands down between them and undoes the buttons on William's shirt, just far enough to push his hands inside. No undershirt. He'd mostly expected one, so, bonus. Less to ruck up, to get between them. His fingers know where to go, and they find two small nipples, hard as pebbles, to roll and pinch, then to stroke and soothe. William makes a startled moan into his mouth, and Xander can't help grinning into their kiss. Time to let him learn how you play some other games.
William groans again when Xander moves his mouth away, reaching after him with lips parted, but Xander puts a finger to that deliciousness and shakes his head. "Hush, baby. You'll like this."
Bending his head, he pushes William's shirt a little further aside and dips his head to the left nipple, taking it between his teeth. "You should get this pierced," he murmurs after a quick nip and a salving lick. "You'd look so fucking sexy with a ring right... here..." He bites again, then fastens his lips around the whole and sucks hard.
"God - Xander, God!" William pushes against him, and he feels a hardness to match his own between the other man's legs. Xander closes his eyes and hisses at that - it feels so good - but it's not time for that, not just yet.
His hands work at the small of William's back, kneading like a jungle cat's. Pushing him tighter and closer so he can taste that skin. He was right. Sugared almonds, sweet cherry boy. Light and clean and fresh, tasting of soap and smelling of some cologne they probably don't make in America. Just a little.
Enough to make him want more, to send him chasing kisses across a lean but tight chest. Over to the other nipple next, where he lavishes the same kind of tongue action on it. All the while rubbing the left one with his thumb. Listening to those tasty noises William keeps making, like he's never felt anything this good in his whole life. Probably hasn't. And it's gonna get even better.
"You like that, baby?" Xander takes a last, lingering lick on William's nipple. "Bet you like this even better."
Time to make him scream. He grips William by the small of the back and pushes their erections together almost hard enough to hurt. The sound he makes, the jump and twitch of his muscles, hits Xander so hard he has to close his eyes and breathe deep, in and out, not to lose it right there. So damned responsive!
"Oh yeah," he whispers, when he's got it back together again. His hips move, starting up a slow gyration together. A dirty dance. "That feel good?"
William's hands are grasping at him, trying to gain a hold somewhere. Fluttering like birds. He doesn't know what to do, but his body is loving it. Xander can feel dampness through both their slacks, and he knows William's already leaking for him. "Feels so good," Xander murmurs. "You have no idea -" and he runs his nails lightly up William's back - "what you're doing to me, do you?"
That golden wheat hair is wet now, sticking in ringlets to William's forehead. "And you - to me -" he manages, arching against Xander when he undulates their bodies. "Touch - touch me?"
Well. Xander hadn't expected that so soon. And maybe William's not thinking about what that sounds like an invitation for, but he'll take him up on it. "Like this?" he whispers, sliding a hand down between them to cup William's cock. "Touch you just like that, baby?"
William lets out a strangled noise that's halfway between a groan and a cry. "God!"
"Just like that..." Xander's clever fingers roll and cup his balls through the loose-fitting slacks. "Just like that..." He grips the solid length of erection and gives it a tug. "Or maybe like this..."
With one quick, tongue-flicking kiss he starts sinking to his knees. Halfway down William realizes what's going on, and his fervent swearing is music to Xander's ears. "Gonna do it to you, sugar-man," Xander whispers as he touches down, graceful as a cat. "Wanna suck off all that sweet coating."
He knows William doesn't understand that. That's OK. He does. And he knows how to make him get what's going on, too: by leaning forward - oh, so gently - and before he's even got him unzipped or taken out, mouthing that taut cock through his slacks. Stropping his cheek against it. If he could purr, he would - it feels that good. Just imagine what it'll taste like.
Backing off just far enough to blow a steady stream of warm breath over that place, he waits. He wants to hear William beg for it. And he doesn't wait long.
"More -" William's unsteady hands find places on his shoulders. "Xander, more, please -"
Good boy. And good boys get rewarded. That zip comes down, a little bit at a time - Xander teasing and toying with him, making him want it still more - and then suddenly it slips from his fingers and William's cock slaps through it, bulging and purple in the pale kitchen light. Xander's eyes fly open wide. No shorts? Not silky boxers or even tight-whites? Okay, he's impressed now. Somebody did their homework.
And hey, just as with the shirt, less to push aside. He can smell William's musk now, heavy and hot, and he's dying for a taste. His tongue comes out to flick at the tip, and curls around in a long sucking lap when William moans and tries to push forward. Even cherry boys know what they want, and what he wants is...
Xander's mouth slides smoothly over that cock, one long glide until his nose is buried in a thick, deep-wheat colored thatch. He lost his gag reflex ages ago, and he can do that without thinking. He swallows, tasting the salt and sweat on his tongue. Candied almonds. So sweet.
He can't talk with his mouth full - bad manners - so he lets his fingers do the communication for him, tugging those slacks down and working his way around to a tight little ass that just begs for it. No lube, but that's fine, he doesn't need it yet. All he's got to do is test this out...
One finger, brushing lightly against William's hole - and he screams, the sound echoing through Xander's apartment. Bucks like he's on a horse. Xander swallows again and again, rewarding him for being such a good little innocent. God, he's tight as a drumskin. Pushing in through that is gonna be a taste of heaven.
Fuck this, he can't wait any longer. Has to have that. His own cock, neglected for a little too long now, is pulsing with want and dripping a wet spot on his pants. He pulls his mouth off William in a long, steady suck and lets the head come out with a last press of his lips and a loud pop.
He knows what he looks like, on his knees in front of that cock. "I need you," he says quietly, staring up like a dog that might bite. "Want you." His fingers wind trails up and down William's ass, slipping in and teasing his hole. "Can I have you, baby?"
William groans, a wordless sound.
Xander lets just the tip of one finger slip in. "Can I have you?" he asks, voice husky. "Let me take you, right here. Send you straight to heaven. All night long." He pushes just a little deeper, not hard enough to hurt. "Say yes, baby. Just say yes..."
"Yes," William breathes out. "God, yes."
He knows where the lube is hidden in every part of his home, and there's a tube of it close by that he manages to grab on his slip-slide back up William's body. He kisses the man again, deep and wet, murmuring against his lips and telling him what he's gonna do, just to drive him crazy.
All the while, his hands are working. Slippery with cherry-scented lube, they slide in and out of his hole, one finger at a time. He's patient - lets cries of pain turn back into moans of pleasure - and waits until he's still tight but writhing on the fingers in him, almost biting Xander's lips off with want of him.
"Now?" Xander whispers. "You want me now, baby?" He puts his hands on William's hips to guide him, turning him around. "Put your hands on the counter." His breath is getting harsh, rough. He can't hold out much longer. Thank God he doesn't have to, he can push his cock up to that puckered little hole and press at it.
It hurts William at first - first times always do - but Xander's got enough skill at fucking to find and keep hitting the sweet spot that makes all the pain go away. William's so tight around him it feels like he's being stripped away, and it hurts so good that his whole body is throbbing. He's one big beat of a pulse that's timed with his thrusts deep into that cherry ass.
Somehow he finds the presence of mind to reach around and grab William's cock in his hand, to start milking it. William is shameless by now, so desperate for it that he's pushing himself back and forward, from the deep shoves inside him to the hard squeezes out. Every muscle in his back and legs is fluttering. Xander spares him what kisses he can think to give, sharp nips and long drags of his tongue over that back, tasting salt and sweet together.
He can feel it coming before it's there, this great big tidal wave of an orgasm. But he wants William to know what it's like first. Breath held, he stops in place and pumps harder, faster at the man's cock, digging into the tip with his fingernails and spreading all that warm, oozing spunk over his length.
William's breath starts to hitch. "Fuck - fuck - fuck - fuck -" he's chanting almost too quietly to hear. "Can't - I can't -"
Xander bites him. "Then don't. Let it go. Just let it go..."
With one great shudder, William does, spilling sugar-warmth all over Xander's hand. It drips between his fingers, down the man's legs. It's more than he can take. Thrusting hard, past caring if it hurts, he goes in so deep that it's over his head, and he just lets that wave wash over him. Comes with such a violent burst that his vision goes white. He's just about aware that he's grabbing onto William, hanging on for dear life while he rides it and praying he survives.
When they wash back down, he's still holding the man so very tight he dazedly wonders how William can breathe. He's filled the man's ass with spunk, dripping out and down his legs. His cock's still half-hard, but he slips out and turns William about hard and fast for a kiss better than the ones they shared before. Hard. Claiming. Marking. "You're mine," he growls between tastes of those lips. "Mine. Say it."
William's so out of it that he can only nod, chasing kisses back with his own. "Yours. All yours."
Not just for tonight, Xander wants to add. But he doesn't. This sweet shy man's just been fucked within an inch of his life, and so has he. Can't scare him off. Not yet.
'Cause see, he needs William. And he's gonna see to it that William needs him too.
* Four *
They make it to the bed, just, before their muscles give out working. Collapse on top like little boys on a sleep-out, too tired to get underneath the covers. But he can't have William getting cold. Somehow, Xander manages to drag a throw blanket off a chair close by and arranges it on top of his new lover, tucking in the corners while the man murmurs sleepy things that sound like lines of poetry.
He drifts off fast, this one, his lips working softly together. Lips made for kissing. Xander drops a quick buss on the corner of that mouth before settling down behind him. Spooning up tight. Holding on. Making sure he knows whose arms he's in before he goes to sleep.
The curve of William's shoulder fits him just right for nuzzling into. His own eyes want to close, but he's not ready to go to sleep yet. Yeah, he's forgotten how many men have walked through his door, but none of them have made it this far yet. Not a one's gone to sleep in his arms. He might sleep at their places, but until now his bed's been his own.
Now it belongs to him, and his sweet, sweet sugar-man.
"Beautiful," he murmurs, rocking them slowly together. "Knew you were special. I've been waiting for you, you know that? We're gonna be something together, you and me. Just us. You wait and see. We're gonna be all we need out of the whole wide world..."
William whispers something soft, too soft to make out - could be "yes" - and then he's slack, limp in the dead-limbed sleep of the well and truly fucked.
Xander smiles and kisses the curve of that jaw. He'll just lie here a minute. Just a minute more, holding on to that warmth that he's been hunting for. This perfect moment.
"William," he breathes. "My own. My sweet William..."
* Five *
William's still asleep when Xander finally gets enough strength back to peel himself away, little as he might want to. He's got something to take care of, first, before he can let himself fully rest against the other man. "You stay there," he whispers, gently rubbing the soft shoulder. "I won't be gone long."
Slipping carefully backwards out of bed, he pads quietly away toward the other end of his apartment.
It's hidden behind a screen. You wouldn't think it belonged in a studio apartment, but there it is: not quite a closet, not quite a priest's hole. The door blends in so perfectly he still has to hunt to find the latch for opening it. After all this time.
Inside, it's dark. No windows. But there is a single candle burning in a niche high on the wall. Always burns there. It won't go out. He's not that cruel.
"Hey, baby," he whispers, looking into the corner. "Don't hide. You know it's me."
He picks up the candle and angles it so that he can see, and sure enough, it's still there. His lips curve in a smile. "Would you look at that? It's the better part of me," he whispers. "Safe and sound."
Another Xander huddles on the floor, crouched on his hands and knees. Duct tape binds him to old and rusting pipes. He's filthy, matted with his own mess and covered in pressure sores. Thin, almost too thin to live, but he keeps hanging on for some reason.
Well. The stronger Xander knows the reason why. He's not done with him yet.
Soon, though.
He crouches beside the shivering wreck of his duplicate and starts petting the tangled hair. "I found him tonight," he says almost conversationally. "You wouldn't believe it. He looks just like Spike did in those old pictures. The hair, the glasses, the face. I'll have to teach him to dye his hair and get contacts, but all that'll take is a little time. Then he'll be perfect."
He puts a finger under his other-self's chin and tips it up, smiling at the tears that glitter unshed in its eyes. "You know, I still wonder how Willow and Giles could have been so stupid. 'Let the spell be broken'. Like that would work, you know?" He strokes the cold cheek. "And it didn't, sweetheart, did it? I just kept coming out, and coming out. Hell, I even brought you out of the closet, didn't I?" He giggles. "Well, sort of. You know what I mean."
His other self shakes its head. Xander frowns, pinching its chin between his fingers. "I told you not to talk back. Not ever."
He leans back and considers. "I need some more of you. More of me, less of you. One can't survive without the other, but what if I take everything that I need of you to make it just fine on my own? Well..." He traces lines on the other Xander's forehead, humming under his breath. Beneath his touch, the creature shivers and stifles moans, shriveling in on itself a little more. "It works like that, you see. Giles shouldn't leave all his books sitting out. Who knows what someone could learn? How to take all that life force from something and just make it your very own..."
Xander stops. He pulls back, pretending to think. "Now, this could be tricky. I want all you have left to give, which means... but that's okay. 'Cause now I've found him, I won't need you anymore." He croons tunelessly, stroking the sweaty hair back from his other half's head. "Did you hear me? I found him at last. My own Spike to play with, one who'll love me instead of her.
"But you know," he says, and he laughs, "it occurs to me that we've got one more night left. Let's have some fun..."
* * * * *
~ T B C ~
"Love is Still My Argument"
Xander/William
~ NC17 ~
Setting: Diverges from canon post "The Replacement", BtVS Season 5 and heads off into AU-land
* One *
Xander sees him first in a gay-friendly coffee shop in Haight-Asbury, refilling his cup from the urns with the kind of wary look around that says he's not sure if he should be doing that. Yeah, the sign reads "Free Refills", loud and bold, but he has a sort of quiet nervousness about him that says he's afraid he'll be caught. Punished for stealing. He's unusual enough in the middle of all the rowdy college kids - a man a little older than the rest, shy and quiet - wondering if he has the right to more java.
It's enough to make him put his cup down and watch.
See, Xander figures you can tell a lot about a man by the way he takes his coffee. Of course, he knows that's just his point of view and ergo (hey, big word) bullshit to the rest of the world, but as a philosophy it works for him. And when a person spends as much time in cafes as he does, he's discovered he's not often wrong.
Of course, he's cruising for those guys he's watching get their coffee, so he can be pretty sharp-eyed about it. He's got a classification system, and it doesn't often fail him.
Black means they're straight-up, straightforward. No time for creamer or sugar or crap like that. In bed, they want it hot and hard and fast. Nice, when you're in the mood for that, but tempting as it might be Xander's not up (no pun intended) for that tonight.
Then there are the ones who take milk - non-fat, half-and-half, creamer, whatever - they like it bitter, but smooth. Maybe they're wearing Lennon sunglasses, and they'll be cool as can be. Whatever you want, man, that's fine. Good material for a rhapsody in lavender next open mic night.
And okay, maybe he's a little sarcastic about that one, but he's had enough finger-snapping improv artists for a while. Poems about "Alexander the Great" don't mix with blending in and keeping his profile low. He knows he's good. He just likes to keep that a surprise. Who wants to be wanted for what you've got in your engine compartment?
Well... maybe him, on occasion. But he guesses he's being picky tonight.
Sugar men, now those are sweet. They're the cuddlers, the ones who give you tender kisses and want to hold you after it's over, fall asleep in your arms and get up to a breakfast of bacon (or granola) and snuggles in front of the TV (or a walk in the park).
He thinks he's in the mood for a sugar man. Someone to hold. A guy who likes it sweet and warm, something to cradle in the palm of his hand. Who'll wrap his lips around it like it's milk and honey, and suckle like a bee on a flower until you burst open into bloom.
So he's interested, really interested, in seeing what this shy man is putting in his coffee. He hesitates, hovering over the choices. And Xander can't blame him for that. It's a confusing world, sometimes. He's never seen this man in here before, with his curling wheat-colored hair, scholar's glasses, and delicate hands. Nice hands. Fingers that could stroke you all night long if you coaxed them sweetly enough.
God, he hopes this guy is a sugar man.
He's waiting and watching. Trying to be patient. Admitting to himself he's a little more than curious now. Feeling the heat build from the bottom of his stomach and burn down through his legs. Wanting him to be the one he goes home with tonight, if he just turns out to be the right guy for the part.
Why so fascinated? He toys with his spoon and watches, fascinated. There's just something about this one, so hesitant and shy. Eyes the shade of exotic ocean water behind those glasses, glancing around like he's trying to figure it all out for himself. Xander bets his spunk tastes like candied almonds, cherry-fresh and sweet.
But he's got to be patient. When someone young and buzz-cut and muscled bumps his arm and grins at him, the man jumps and smiles nervously. Excuses himself, like that was his fault. That gets him an uneasy eye up and down, like Mr. Young's measuring up those lips and hands against the "wary" sign stamped on his forehead. Deciding, after a second, it's not worth it.
Good. The man is so newly out, Xander can tell that now. Daring to test his limits. Not sure of himself yet. And if you don't know who you are, how can you know what you want?
And if he's going home with anyone tonight, it's gonna be Xander.
Those long fingers hover over the cups and bowls and pitchers and sprinklers again and finally - finally - make their choice. Pure white sugar, two spoonfuls. And then pure, heavy cream, to make it thick and give it body.
A cream-and-sugar man. Sweet. Rich and full of flavor. Shy as a wild kitten, and probably purrs just as sweetly once you rub his... stomach. Xander takes a long sip of his own coffee, full of the same blend, and smiles to himself.
Bingo.
So he stands up when the man takes his cup back to his table, and manages to be in his way when he's wanting to move past. Turns to him with the warm, generous smile that's gotten so many sugar men into his bed in the past, and puts a hand on his shoulder. "Sorry," he says, before the other one can. "My fault."
The guy blushes. Faint and pink as a tea rose. "I beg your pardon," he murmurs, uncertain and afraid - "I nearly made you spill your cup."
"You could make me do more than that." Xander reaches up to touch his face. God. He's even got an accent, a sweet taste of England in that voice. The man flinches a little, but when Xander strokes his lip with the ball of his thumb he softens, staring with those wide, wide eyes. "I'm Xander."
"W-William," the man stammers. "William. Is my name."
"Good name." Xander slides his hand down that chest and hooks it into his collar. Tugs teasingly, gently. Can't scare him off. "I've got a free seat here. Want to share the table?"
That gets a smile from him, a sweet smile, just like he knew there could be. The blush deepens just a bit. He nods, and Xander feels himself start to fall.
Suddenly, it's more than just flirtation. It's real. And it's interesting. And he wants to know this man, this William. Find out what he's doing in a coffee meat-market. What brought him there. Why. And would he really like to go home with Xander, instead of being charmed through all his naivete into blindly following?
He's a sweet cream-and-sugar man, and Xander's more interested than ever. "Then sit," he invites, patting the chair. "Let me get to know you."
So William does.
And that's just the start of it all.
* Two *
Sweet William, it's so clear he has no idea what to do here, so it's Xander who takes the lead in everything. It's nice. He hasn't had a true cherry boy in... feels like years... and William is better than a boy, because Xander's not a kid anymore himself. Takes away that edge of "could-be-arrested" panic. Gives it a "want to be bad?" feeling that he'd like to share. So he keeps it up with the light touches, the gentle invitations. Suggestions of what could be.
Only one problem. William is a poet, after all. He's got a notebook stuffed in his jacket pocket, crinkled up and ragged, with a pen shoved through the spiral.
Xander decides that first thing, once they're back at his place, that jacket and notebook go. Into the farthest corner, if he has his way. From the way William's warming up to his moves, even daring - once - to lay a tentative hand on Xander's thigh - he thinks his odds are better than good it'll happen.
Maybe even that night.
No, he thinks, watching William slip his notebook back into his pocket with an embarrassed smile, definitely tonight. He's thirsty for more than coffee, now, and he knows what fountain he wants to drink from. What altar he feels like worshiping at. Who he's going to show what being appreciated is all about.
Took him years to learn that lesson. Ages of clumsiness and stumbling in his own shoes before he became who he is now - all pierced ears and snug-fitting shirts and easy confidence, knowing how to get his own way.
So after getting William a refill and watching that slim throat work as he swallows, feeling his jeans get tighter and tighter, Xander decides "what the hell?" and asks him if he wants to continue this elsewhere.
William blushes. He stammers some things that Xander can't really understand, with the accent and all, then stops, staring at him. But there's a plea in those eyes that he totally identifies with. Want me. Need me. Take me home. Last puppy in the shop, and feeling the loneliness.
Xander curls his hand around William's and squeezes. "That a yes, then?"
And William nods. It's a yes.
* Three *
He keeps it decent as they pay their bill, and on the short walk home to his studio apartment, but the hunger's ever-growing for a sample of this sweet sugar man. By the time he's locked his battered door behind them and thrown his keys on the kitchen counter, Xander can't wait any longer for that first long taste.
William's hand is curled inside his own - has been, since they set foot outside - and he uses it to pull him closer. Full contact, body-to-body, letting him feel how hard he's gotten just looking at those curls and fingers. William gasps softly, Xander grins, and swallows both their air in a kiss that's mean to shatter him gently apart.
Works, too. He's a good kisser. He's lost track of how many men have come in here, but they all walk away satisfied and every one of them has a healthy worship for Xander's tongue. One of the best-exercised muscles in his body, and it knows how to work someone else's flesh until they're cursing or calling out to God for mercy.
He plans on hearing both kinds of cries from William tonight.
It helps that he's so soft and pliant in Xander's arms, crumpling against him like a rose petal in the grip of that kiss. His lips part when Xander strokes them with his tongue, melting away the join between, and slips in to flick lightly at the roof of his mouth. He doesn't let go as he does everything he knows - runs it along William's teeth, strokes it in broad stripes against his own tongue, tickles the inside of his cheeks.
Then he teaches him, only letting him go for gulps of air, how to play back. What it's like to twist and tangle the mobile organs together, to suck one into your mouth and bite at it ever so gently, and how to go on the attack to take what you want. It's a clever tongue, and it learns all those new tricks so sweetly that Xander can't wait to see what it does on the rest of his body.
He slips his hands down between them and undoes the buttons on William's shirt, just far enough to push his hands inside. No undershirt. He'd mostly expected one, so, bonus. Less to ruck up, to get between them. His fingers know where to go, and they find two small nipples, hard as pebbles, to roll and pinch, then to stroke and soothe. William makes a startled moan into his mouth, and Xander can't help grinning into their kiss. Time to let him learn how you play some other games.
William groans again when Xander moves his mouth away, reaching after him with lips parted, but Xander puts a finger to that deliciousness and shakes his head. "Hush, baby. You'll like this."
Bending his head, he pushes William's shirt a little further aside and dips his head to the left nipple, taking it between his teeth. "You should get this pierced," he murmurs after a quick nip and a salving lick. "You'd look so fucking sexy with a ring right... here..." He bites again, then fastens his lips around the whole and sucks hard.
"God - Xander, God!" William pushes against him, and he feels a hardness to match his own between the other man's legs. Xander closes his eyes and hisses at that - it feels so good - but it's not time for that, not just yet.
His hands work at the small of William's back, kneading like a jungle cat's. Pushing him tighter and closer so he can taste that skin. He was right. Sugared almonds, sweet cherry boy. Light and clean and fresh, tasting of soap and smelling of some cologne they probably don't make in America. Just a little.
Enough to make him want more, to send him chasing kisses across a lean but tight chest. Over to the other nipple next, where he lavishes the same kind of tongue action on it. All the while rubbing the left one with his thumb. Listening to those tasty noises William keeps making, like he's never felt anything this good in his whole life. Probably hasn't. And it's gonna get even better.
"You like that, baby?" Xander takes a last, lingering lick on William's nipple. "Bet you like this even better."
Time to make him scream. He grips William by the small of the back and pushes their erections together almost hard enough to hurt. The sound he makes, the jump and twitch of his muscles, hits Xander so hard he has to close his eyes and breathe deep, in and out, not to lose it right there. So damned responsive!
"Oh yeah," he whispers, when he's got it back together again. His hips move, starting up a slow gyration together. A dirty dance. "That feel good?"
William's hands are grasping at him, trying to gain a hold somewhere. Fluttering like birds. He doesn't know what to do, but his body is loving it. Xander can feel dampness through both their slacks, and he knows William's already leaking for him. "Feels so good," Xander murmurs. "You have no idea -" and he runs his nails lightly up William's back - "what you're doing to me, do you?"
That golden wheat hair is wet now, sticking in ringlets to William's forehead. "And you - to me -" he manages, arching against Xander when he undulates their bodies. "Touch - touch me?"
Well. Xander hadn't expected that so soon. And maybe William's not thinking about what that sounds like an invitation for, but he'll take him up on it. "Like this?" he whispers, sliding a hand down between them to cup William's cock. "Touch you just like that, baby?"
William lets out a strangled noise that's halfway between a groan and a cry. "God!"
"Just like that..." Xander's clever fingers roll and cup his balls through the loose-fitting slacks. "Just like that..." He grips the solid length of erection and gives it a tug. "Or maybe like this..."
With one quick, tongue-flicking kiss he starts sinking to his knees. Halfway down William realizes what's going on, and his fervent swearing is music to Xander's ears. "Gonna do it to you, sugar-man," Xander whispers as he touches down, graceful as a cat. "Wanna suck off all that sweet coating."
He knows William doesn't understand that. That's OK. He does. And he knows how to make him get what's going on, too: by leaning forward - oh, so gently - and before he's even got him unzipped or taken out, mouthing that taut cock through his slacks. Stropping his cheek against it. If he could purr, he would - it feels that good. Just imagine what it'll taste like.
Backing off just far enough to blow a steady stream of warm breath over that place, he waits. He wants to hear William beg for it. And he doesn't wait long.
"More -" William's unsteady hands find places on his shoulders. "Xander, more, please -"
Good boy. And good boys get rewarded. That zip comes down, a little bit at a time - Xander teasing and toying with him, making him want it still more - and then suddenly it slips from his fingers and William's cock slaps through it, bulging and purple in the pale kitchen light. Xander's eyes fly open wide. No shorts? Not silky boxers or even tight-whites? Okay, he's impressed now. Somebody did their homework.
And hey, just as with the shirt, less to push aside. He can smell William's musk now, heavy and hot, and he's dying for a taste. His tongue comes out to flick at the tip, and curls around in a long sucking lap when William moans and tries to push forward. Even cherry boys know what they want, and what he wants is...
Xander's mouth slides smoothly over that cock, one long glide until his nose is buried in a thick, deep-wheat colored thatch. He lost his gag reflex ages ago, and he can do that without thinking. He swallows, tasting the salt and sweat on his tongue. Candied almonds. So sweet.
He can't talk with his mouth full - bad manners - so he lets his fingers do the communication for him, tugging those slacks down and working his way around to a tight little ass that just begs for it. No lube, but that's fine, he doesn't need it yet. All he's got to do is test this out...
One finger, brushing lightly against William's hole - and he screams, the sound echoing through Xander's apartment. Bucks like he's on a horse. Xander swallows again and again, rewarding him for being such a good little innocent. God, he's tight as a drumskin. Pushing in through that is gonna be a taste of heaven.
Fuck this, he can't wait any longer. Has to have that. His own cock, neglected for a little too long now, is pulsing with want and dripping a wet spot on his pants. He pulls his mouth off William in a long, steady suck and lets the head come out with a last press of his lips and a loud pop.
He knows what he looks like, on his knees in front of that cock. "I need you," he says quietly, staring up like a dog that might bite. "Want you." His fingers wind trails up and down William's ass, slipping in and teasing his hole. "Can I have you, baby?"
William groans, a wordless sound.
Xander lets just the tip of one finger slip in. "Can I have you?" he asks, voice husky. "Let me take you, right here. Send you straight to heaven. All night long." He pushes just a little deeper, not hard enough to hurt. "Say yes, baby. Just say yes..."
"Yes," William breathes out. "God, yes."
He knows where the lube is hidden in every part of his home, and there's a tube of it close by that he manages to grab on his slip-slide back up William's body. He kisses the man again, deep and wet, murmuring against his lips and telling him what he's gonna do, just to drive him crazy.
All the while, his hands are working. Slippery with cherry-scented lube, they slide in and out of his hole, one finger at a time. He's patient - lets cries of pain turn back into moans of pleasure - and waits until he's still tight but writhing on the fingers in him, almost biting Xander's lips off with want of him.
"Now?" Xander whispers. "You want me now, baby?" He puts his hands on William's hips to guide him, turning him around. "Put your hands on the counter." His breath is getting harsh, rough. He can't hold out much longer. Thank God he doesn't have to, he can push his cock up to that puckered little hole and press at it.
It hurts William at first - first times always do - but Xander's got enough skill at fucking to find and keep hitting the sweet spot that makes all the pain go away. William's so tight around him it feels like he's being stripped away, and it hurts so good that his whole body is throbbing. He's one big beat of a pulse that's timed with his thrusts deep into that cherry ass.
Somehow he finds the presence of mind to reach around and grab William's cock in his hand, to start milking it. William is shameless by now, so desperate for it that he's pushing himself back and forward, from the deep shoves inside him to the hard squeezes out. Every muscle in his back and legs is fluttering. Xander spares him what kisses he can think to give, sharp nips and long drags of his tongue over that back, tasting salt and sweet together.
He can feel it coming before it's there, this great big tidal wave of an orgasm. But he wants William to know what it's like first. Breath held, he stops in place and pumps harder, faster at the man's cock, digging into the tip with his fingernails and spreading all that warm, oozing spunk over his length.
William's breath starts to hitch. "Fuck - fuck - fuck - fuck -" he's chanting almost too quietly to hear. "Can't - I can't -"
Xander bites him. "Then don't. Let it go. Just let it go..."
With one great shudder, William does, spilling sugar-warmth all over Xander's hand. It drips between his fingers, down the man's legs. It's more than he can take. Thrusting hard, past caring if it hurts, he goes in so deep that it's over his head, and he just lets that wave wash over him. Comes with such a violent burst that his vision goes white. He's just about aware that he's grabbing onto William, hanging on for dear life while he rides it and praying he survives.
When they wash back down, he's still holding the man so very tight he dazedly wonders how William can breathe. He's filled the man's ass with spunk, dripping out and down his legs. His cock's still half-hard, but he slips out and turns William about hard and fast for a kiss better than the ones they shared before. Hard. Claiming. Marking. "You're mine," he growls between tastes of those lips. "Mine. Say it."
William's so out of it that he can only nod, chasing kisses back with his own. "Yours. All yours."
Not just for tonight, Xander wants to add. But he doesn't. This sweet shy man's just been fucked within an inch of his life, and so has he. Can't scare him off. Not yet.
'Cause see, he needs William. And he's gonna see to it that William needs him too.
* Four *
They make it to the bed, just, before their muscles give out working. Collapse on top like little boys on a sleep-out, too tired to get underneath the covers. But he can't have William getting cold. Somehow, Xander manages to drag a throw blanket off a chair close by and arranges it on top of his new lover, tucking in the corners while the man murmurs sleepy things that sound like lines of poetry.
He drifts off fast, this one, his lips working softly together. Lips made for kissing. Xander drops a quick buss on the corner of that mouth before settling down behind him. Spooning up tight. Holding on. Making sure he knows whose arms he's in before he goes to sleep.
The curve of William's shoulder fits him just right for nuzzling into. His own eyes want to close, but he's not ready to go to sleep yet. Yeah, he's forgotten how many men have walked through his door, but none of them have made it this far yet. Not a one's gone to sleep in his arms. He might sleep at their places, but until now his bed's been his own.
Now it belongs to him, and his sweet, sweet sugar-man.
"Beautiful," he murmurs, rocking them slowly together. "Knew you were special. I've been waiting for you, you know that? We're gonna be something together, you and me. Just us. You wait and see. We're gonna be all we need out of the whole wide world..."
William whispers something soft, too soft to make out - could be "yes" - and then he's slack, limp in the dead-limbed sleep of the well and truly fucked.
Xander smiles and kisses the curve of that jaw. He'll just lie here a minute. Just a minute more, holding on to that warmth that he's been hunting for. This perfect moment.
"William," he breathes. "My own. My sweet William..."
* Five *
William's still asleep when Xander finally gets enough strength back to peel himself away, little as he might want to. He's got something to take care of, first, before he can let himself fully rest against the other man. "You stay there," he whispers, gently rubbing the soft shoulder. "I won't be gone long."
Slipping carefully backwards out of bed, he pads quietly away toward the other end of his apartment.
It's hidden behind a screen. You wouldn't think it belonged in a studio apartment, but there it is: not quite a closet, not quite a priest's hole. The door blends in so perfectly he still has to hunt to find the latch for opening it. After all this time.
Inside, it's dark. No windows. But there is a single candle burning in a niche high on the wall. Always burns there. It won't go out. He's not that cruel.
"Hey, baby," he whispers, looking into the corner. "Don't hide. You know it's me."
He picks up the candle and angles it so that he can see, and sure enough, it's still there. His lips curve in a smile. "Would you look at that? It's the better part of me," he whispers. "Safe and sound."
Another Xander huddles on the floor, crouched on his hands and knees. Duct tape binds him to old and rusting pipes. He's filthy, matted with his own mess and covered in pressure sores. Thin, almost too thin to live, but he keeps hanging on for some reason.
Well. The stronger Xander knows the reason why. He's not done with him yet.
Soon, though.
He crouches beside the shivering wreck of his duplicate and starts petting the tangled hair. "I found him tonight," he says almost conversationally. "You wouldn't believe it. He looks just like Spike did in those old pictures. The hair, the glasses, the face. I'll have to teach him to dye his hair and get contacts, but all that'll take is a little time. Then he'll be perfect."
He puts a finger under his other-self's chin and tips it up, smiling at the tears that glitter unshed in its eyes. "You know, I still wonder how Willow and Giles could have been so stupid. 'Let the spell be broken'. Like that would work, you know?" He strokes the cold cheek. "And it didn't, sweetheart, did it? I just kept coming out, and coming out. Hell, I even brought you out of the closet, didn't I?" He giggles. "Well, sort of. You know what I mean."
His other self shakes its head. Xander frowns, pinching its chin between his fingers. "I told you not to talk back. Not ever."
He leans back and considers. "I need some more of you. More of me, less of you. One can't survive without the other, but what if I take everything that I need of you to make it just fine on my own? Well..." He traces lines on the other Xander's forehead, humming under his breath. Beneath his touch, the creature shivers and stifles moans, shriveling in on itself a little more. "It works like that, you see. Giles shouldn't leave all his books sitting out. Who knows what someone could learn? How to take all that life force from something and just make it your very own..."
Xander stops. He pulls back, pretending to think. "Now, this could be tricky. I want all you have left to give, which means... but that's okay. 'Cause now I've found him, I won't need you anymore." He croons tunelessly, stroking the sweaty hair back from his other half's head. "Did you hear me? I found him at last. My own Spike to play with, one who'll love me instead of her.
"But you know," he says, and he laughs, "it occurs to me that we've got one more night left. Let's have some fun..."
* * * * *
~ T B C ~