Disclaimers: Oh, but I'd be so *good* to her...
Spoilers: Takes place right after Restless.
Summary: Kitchen Buddies.
Ratings Note: R.
Acknowledgments: To my Spike, who I adore.
Feedback: Worshipped at email@example.com.
/Later, I can blame it on the extra glasses of wine I had
And the thought jerked Joyce's head up from where she
rummaging for the little marshmallows. What on earth?
And the vast majority of her mind simply nodded in
understanding, as though it had been a foregone conclusion that
she'd be in her kitchen with a Xander... inexplicably? blushing to
his hairline. He'd called her Joyce.
Which almost makes things fall into alignment. The boy's
on Buffy had obviously begun to fade, and she, Joyce, had been the
one receiving guilty, shell-shocked looks for a change. Just a few,
here and there, between daydreams... Did eighteen year old boys
still fantasize about the same things?
And she made no move to hide her smile. On the inside, and just
bit on the outside, she was rather grateful to Ripper's old evil
nemesis. It had certainly been an... eye opener. She looked up from
her careful count of marshmallows per cup to find Xander on the
far side of the center island, clutching somewhat spasmodically at
a serving tray.
Joyce smiled a little wider and his eyes... darkened. Deer in
headlights. It was so adorable she wanted to chain him up in the
basement for months and months.
"Yes?" Hopeful, now. Surely she would only ask him to bring
"Could you check the floor?"
"I think I dropped a marshmallow, and I don't want to invite
ants." Joyce didn't allow her smile to lighten one jot. "It's just...
my back is a little..." Arching back against the heel of her palm
digging into her spine, wriggled her just pedicured toes. "Sore. It
should be right by my feet."
There. The click of Xander's swallow practically echoed.
"Sure thing, Mrs. Joyce. Er, Buffy. Buffy's mom. Um." And he
around the island in a flash, crouching down -- not a bender, which
was sad -- and moving around her feet, hunting desperately. Joyce
leaned back against the counter and watched Xander... trundle.
Almost like a beetle.
Pictured her foot pressed firmly against the obvious muscles
He bobbed up immediately, swayed just lightly from the rush
blood. Or perhaps the way that he'd brushed against her all the
way up. Grace, Joyce decided, was overrated.
"I... uh... didn't find a marshmallow." Apparently trapped in
gaze. Little beetle in amber. "I could look some more?"
Joyce leaned closer, and Xander didn't stiffen, or run, or
Simply stood there, glaze-eyed and just terrified enough.
"No, Xander. I think you did well enough." Focused in on his
soft, slack with idiot lust. Flicked her gaze up to his eyes again.
"Do you want to kiss me?"
And he did, hands gripped knuckle white on either counter,
and kissing at her mouth. Lips parted and he was in, sucking at her
tongue and moaning much, much too loud for the kitchen, all of them
out there and Joyce let him kiss her grin. Ran her hands up under
his shirt to tease and leave little hurts.
Out again to trace the tender webbing between his fingers,
him tremble and he was holding his hips just a little away so she
grabbed his ass and pulled him close and oh, *heat*. So young and
hard she could almost feel the throb through all the clothing. And
Xander plundered her mouth for a long, dazing moment that Joyce
had no choice but to fall into.
Someone had taught him. Which was... wickedly disappointing.
Scrape of a chair just outside the door and Joyce barely
herself from jumping away. Forced herself to enjoy a few more
thudding heartbeat moments of Xander's sweet mouth and *then*
pushed him away.
Wet, soft lips, mussed hair, hard cock, and fully dilated eyes.
was an urge to... show him off.
She complied utterly.
"Xander, would you bring the cocoa out, please?"
"I have to find the cookies."
And she deliberately turned her back on him and started
unnecessarily in a cabinet until she heard the door shut behind him.
Sighed out a shaky laugh.
Whispered, "thank you, Ethan." and grabbed the first box of
coated whatever she could find.