*

Aurorarowa:     Xander is a catalyst, as the heart so often is.
Aurorarowa:     Girl is going downstairs to get raspberries and
cream.  Hee.
Daddy793:       Wonderful Girl!

And yes, Xander is a wonder, and a love, a sweet to be held, and
tasted, and cherished.
Aurorarowa:     God, those eyes.
Daddy793:       His irises are just a trifle too wide. It's marvelous.
Aurorarowa:     Someone made the windows to his soul extra large.
Daddy793:       mrrrr
Aurorarowa:     So there he stands, humor as shield and weapon, trying to
defend a gate too big for one person to hold.
Aurorarowa:     So angry, so much wasted motion, trying to look bigger than
he is, and fighting his reflex to shrink.
Daddy793:       That's lovely. Make Giles say it to himself as he muses on
the boy he must not have.
Aurorarowa:     Oh.  I wonder if, by now, Giles has begun to think about
whether he'd really be so much worse than the alternatives.  Someone has
to love Xander beyond his ability to deny, and soon.
Daddy793:       mrrrrr
Daddy793:       write it wriiiite it
Aurorarowa:     <eating cream>
Daddy793:       Mmmmm. Want Giles to feed Xander cream.
Aurorarowa:     Oh, yes.  Sneak it into his cornflakes -- buy a quart of
half-and-half so he has to use it instead of milk, like I had to once in
England.
Daddy793:       Impossibly rich. So rich it brings pleasure, guilt, the need
to *pay* for it somehow...
Aurorarowa:     <g>  I'm seeing Xander scarfing it down and going for more,
oblivious to the reason, while Giles looks at the cream filling in the tiny
lines in the corner of Xander's mouth and turns away to hide his eyes.
Daddy793:       And what's in his eyes, hmm? Because Xander sees anyway...
Aurorarowa:     I wonder if Xander knows what he's seeing.  Because it's
almost the color of sorrow, or dread, and Xander is used to Giles in
those moods.
Aurorarowa:     Ah, but the focus is different.  Narrow, not diffuse;
imminent, not transcendent.
Daddy793:       But oh, if he's there's eating of the cornflakes, drinking
of the cream...

"Hey, G-man, what's up? Is there an apocalypse coming that you forgot
to mention?"

Aurorarowa:     "Probably.  Ah -- why do you ask?"

"Just that devil-may-care-a-little-too-much-about-me look in your eyes."
Xander smiling, pouring more cream.

Giles exhales.  "Nothing you need to be concerned about, Xander."

And immediately regrets saying it as Xander closes off, folds in on
himself and focuses, again, solely on the cereal. "OK."

"Xander --" he begins, and stops, with nowhere safe and normal to go.
"Xander, my -- distraction -- is entirely my problem, not yours." And now
he knows his color is heightened, because the room has gone warm.

"Got it the first time, Giles. Don't --" Xander, looking up and catching
Giles' eye. Resignation warming to puzzlement warming to... something it
feels like bad luck to name.

"It would be... inexcusable on my part were I to allow this to make
you uncomfortable in any way..."  And it's almost ridiculously
difficult to
bring the sentence to a conclusion, looking straight into each other's
eyes and Xander is stammering, a little.

"Uh... I'm not... that is... you can..." Ducking out of the mutual stare to
take a quick spoonful of cereal, but, apparently, that doesn't work quite
the right way.  For either of them, really, because watching Xander hold
the cream and soggy cereal in his mouth before swallowing is.

Watching the long, pale throat work is.

Giles swallows hard, as if in sympathy.  He has to remember to take a
breath, and when he does, his lips part, and stay that way. But he still
has to blink twice, rapidly, before trying the open-ended question again:
"Xander...?"

"Yeah."

Not a question, no opening. Just a low, solid confirmation. Xander's spoon
lands with a small clatter back in the bowl and his hands are flat on the
table. Holding still and then... not. And Giles can only watch Xander stand,
move to him, all tracking gaze and wide, dark eyes.

Warm hands on Giles' knees now, spreading them as Xander kneels.

"Oh..."

"Giles..."

Finds himself searching desperately for old, cynical knowledge in Xander's
eyes, for deep permanent lines, for *something* to justify his erection
with.

Something to help him stem the flood of guilt-laced need that comes when
he buries his fingers in Xander's hair and... tugs.

Gently.

Xander's eyes fluttering closed, mouth open and Giles realizes that *his*
mouth is still open, too, and shuts it. Licks his lips and is suddenly aware
of the feel of the motion. Smooth and rough and plush lips and the slick
tongue between.

Tugs again at Xander's hair to try to make the shake in his hands go away
and this is so *final*. No way to write this off, file it away over
probably-meaningless gazes or accidental touch. This is Xander kneeling
between Giles' thighs, face bare inches from Giles' cock.

"Oh... Jesus, Giles can you just --" Pulling against Giles' hands and Giles
tugs again and Xander shudders.

Again and he sounds so desperate, low moaning words "oh yes please...
please pull me in. Make me... oh fuck, please..."

No way to refuse and Giles pulls. Guides.

Xander open-mouthed to his crotch and Xander exhales hard, moaning
again and then begins to move. Breathing Giles deep with each nuzzle,
with each caress of face to heat and Xander searching. Finding the place
where the head of Giles' cock is pressing furiously against his pants and
sucking *hard*.

And Giles can't take his hand out of the soft, warm thickness of
Xander's hair, can barely move at all but manages to undo his pants one-
handed and Xander is that much closer, sucking at Giles' fingers because
they were in the way or because he just wanted to suck and Xander's
stubble grazes his cock in a way that makes Giles' buck up hard.

And then Xander's *on* him, peeling the foreskin back and diving in,
tongue at the slit drilling and hand around the base of Giles' cock and oh,
oh, spit ribboning down the side of his chin.

Both hands on Xander now, because Giles needs to give something back,
return something like the soul-defeating pleasure of Xander's hungry,
needful mouth, but mostly just needing to touch.

Run his fingers over the thick, soft eyebrows and caress the smoothness
of Xander's face and the broad, clean forehead.

Tickles at the half-ridiculous ears and opens his eyes and oh. Watch.

His cock disappearing with slow care into Xander's mouth, Xander's lips
stretching and Xander's eyes slipping closed with sleepy heaviness and
Giles spreads his legs a little wider and Xander has fumbled his own
pants and shorts low on his thighs.

Xander stroking himself fast and helpless and *writhing*, aborted motions
to shake his head, reach for Giles and pumping himself fast and oh, he's
the most beautiful thing Giles has ever seen, honestly hungry. Clean lust
that makes Giles shake with the need to *fix* that.

Make it more real for this world or just simply drink and drink of that
essential innocence for as long as he can. Possess it forever.

Devour, as he was being devoured, and thinking of that:

His hands on smoothly muscled flesh, all over. Pinching here, caressing
and slapping and biting and touching and oh, *fucking* and he has to do it.
Has to give himself up and start pumping his hips and Xander is holding
Giles' hips, trying to protect his throat but all of a sudded there's no
pressure at all.

And the look of shock on Xander's face as Giles' slides down his throat
drives Giles over the edge, making him yell out a curse and come hard,
deep into Xander. *Fucking* Xander who's making little mmmph noises
and swallowing around him with that trembling lack of control that Giles
knows means that he's holding back a gag.

Slips out as gently as he can and rests, stroking Xander's face again
while he coughs a little.

Xander wipes his mouth and stares at Giles' come and his own spit
before taking three fingers deep into his mouth and sucking them while
jerking off and all Giles can do is watch.

High right hand in motion, left buried between tortured lips and Xander
watching him now, in the aftermath, with something a lot like pride and
greed but it doesn't last.

Doesn't last and Xander's eyes are closed again and Xander is moaning
around his own fingers and Xander is coming, hard, hitting himself in
the chin and spattering his own chest and slumping to Giles' floor
before he can regain his balance,

After a moment to catch his own breath, Giles pulls Xander up into a
kiss, tasting himself, too-sweet cereal, and, perhaps, the barest hint of
cream.

*