by Te
with Spikely goading
July 2000

Disclaimers: If they were mine, I'd sit them both down for
a little talk.

Spoilers: Vague thoughts about Grad 2.

Summary: Angel. Xander. Smut.

Ratings Note: NC-17 for smut and relentlessly bad grammar.
Could be disturbing for some.

Archival: Sure, just let me know.

Author's Note: I'm sick of editing Cicatrix.

Acknowledgments: Someday, Spike and I are gonna retire our
computer chairs together. This one's for Chelle. Just *'cause*.

Feeback/URL: I be here, leytelj@gmail.com and here,


Daddy793: Juice me up, mama. I can't seem to get it up for
all the G/X.
Skweezyxx: could be anyone, sweet.  Anyone you fancy.
Skweezyxx: I just want innocence breached, y'know?
Daddy793: So *many* things I fancy.
Daddy793: And yes, yes...
Skweezyxx: that first time a cock slides into your ass and
you *know* you are being fucked.
Skweezyxx: How it hurts and then gets so sweet and still
hurts and you don't care.
Daddy793: I think, perhaps, I must push the jailbait episode
into fictional context.
Skweezyxx: and you don't care how graceless you are or
how you sound
Skweezyxx: and please do. <g>
Skweezyxx: just as long as they don't let you go
Daddy793: Someone out there who wants so *badly*.
Skweezyxx: and then they let you go
Daddy793: Yes, and there's nothing you can do but admit it.
Skweezyxx: Ahhh.  I wish you knew Stuart Alan Jones.
Daddy793: <g>
Daddy793: Someone out there who *needs*.
Skweezyxx: damn, who is our lamb?
Skweezyxx: God.  Young Ethan and the demon.
Daddy793: Or Xander and Angel.
Skweezyxx: ohhh!
Skweezyxx: how do you see that?
Skweezyxx: Or oh -- *SPOILER*, straight out of *SPOILER*.
Daddy793: Wait, waiiiit
Skweezyxx: sorry.  too many options.
Skweezyxx: my gonads are spinning.
Skweezyxx: wheeeeee
Daddy793: I totally want *SPOILER*. Want Xander to feel
the *SPOILER'S* pleasure, too.
Daddy793: But *first*
Daddy793: I see two bodies, dark clothes.
Skweezyxx: <listening>  and <glistening>

Angel's shirt is kind of rippling. It's a windy night and the
windows are wide open.

It isn't cold, though, and so the wind is really kind of
scary. Warm winds carry scents, and there is air here that's...
different. Thicker in places with pollution in the truest sense
of the word. If Xander breathes, he can catch any scent at all
on a passing breeze.

Anything at all, maybe passing for Angel's scent. Angel, as far as
Xander can tell, smells like his clothes. Leather here, something like
the scent of fabric softener there. Utterly banal.

False to have the palm holding his wrists tight against the wall, high
above his head, smell like nothing at all.

So he won't breathe. Or he will, through his mouth. No, not a

Breathe, then.

Not so hard, not even with Angel leaning in. Can't see his eyes, can't
know who it is, not really. Except Angelus would probably be talking a
lot more and hey, that doesn't make things any less.

Any less what they are.

Leaning in, smooth cheek against his own rough one. Smooth and cold
and hard and suddenly Angel seems just. Huge. Really big, and he is, but
it's not like Xander is all that small, and it's not like Angel's hurting

But that smooth cheek is so *wrong* --

"I'm going to fuck you. You can pretend it doesn't mean anything."

And then nothing else, arms are free for him to push at Angel, who
simply stands there.

Step past and Angel lets him go and Xander thinks: Door soon, and,
OK, this was surreal, but I'm OK.

Except that the moment he touches the doorknob he's *back*.
Slammed back against impossibly hard body, cool through the nice,
clean clothes. Big hands on his hips, shaping the bone. Angel is
nuzzling him now. Slow, purposeful pushes against the back of his
neck, making him stiffen and shiver and suddenly his t-shirt is
*scraping* his nipples, they're so sensitive.

Hard and trying to peak like a woman's.

"Where are you going?"

And it's... fucking ridiculous and Xander laughs but it comes out
more like a croak. Where was he going, he was fucking *leaving*
and he pulls out of Angel's grip and can't decide whether to throw
a comment over his shoulder or just... well, run.

And in that moment Angel is close again, not touching, not
holding. Just close. "Where are you going, Xander? I said I was
going to fuck you."

"You don't... look, I know it's been a while ha ha, you just --"

Rude hand between his thighs, pushing them apart

"Hey --"

and then *up* and Xander can feel the cool right through his
pants and hey, never felt *that* before and his dick is all kinds
of enthusiastic about new and exciting experiences.

Even when it's really not that new, and you'd think Angel would
*know* --

"Take your shirt off."

And no. He doesn't have to, this isn't the sixth grade and no.

A moment's pause in the slow too slow fondling, and Xander can
*feel* the stillness behind him. Not a scary stillness, just a
fucking *weird* one. Like if he was facing him, Angel would have his
head cocked like the damned RCA dog. Mouth open, lips parted,
tongue touching the lower in concentration and hey if he's thinking
of tongues he better be thinking of *beef* tongues because --

And ew, because suddenly he is. Doesn't want to eat something that
tastes him back, no sir, and then he's thinking about taste.

Like maybe Angel isn't so much listening to the air as *sniffing*
it. Tasting it, tasting Xander on it, maybe just a hint of Blowed
Up High School for men.

Not fair being tasted without the... well, without the tongue and --

"All right."


"Leave it on." Hand gone and then it's both hands, gripping his hips
for a second and then sliding in to the center and Angel has him
now, right by the fucking root.

"I'll work around it."

Too dry lick up the side of his throat, making Xander lift up on his
toes because this is just a little more inhuman than he can really
be expected --

-- stroke --

-- to... to take. And then it's gone and a few utterly professional
brushes of touch and his pants are unhooked. Baggy enough to just
fall right off his hips. His boxers feel even older and thinner than
usual, but Xander misses them when they're gone.

T-shirt brushing just the top of his ass, teasing his cock in the
few heartbeats before Angel's hand is back there. Dry friction
but Xander's wetting it up now, pre-come gushing, little jerks like
maybe he's fucking himself from the inside out and no.

He's going to come.

Fast and... and fucking *dirty* and Angel's door is cool, finished
wood against his palms because he has to brace himself, give
himself a little leverage to fuck into that fist.

Just so *tight* and ready for him and Angel is utterly silent,
present only as the pumping hand on his dick and the hard one on his
hip and the... emptiness behind him.

Picture Angel's eyes now: Coldly dark, clinical. Not so much
unaware of his own erection as *accustomed* to it. He was going
to fuck Xander, and if Xander insisted on having it against the
door  --
And oh yeah, that was even b-better... even *God* so tight just make
it up for Angel, give him an excuse --

And then it's over, Angel's hands gone like smoke but it's too late
too can't hold it and he shoots anyway. Hears it hit the door and
his knees buckle for a minute and he's *pissed*.

Because it could've been so much better than --

Raw sound from behind him, too smooth to be an animal and he has
just a moment to try and turn before Angel's doing it for him.

Kissing him, and it's weird to feel a mouth so cold, like kissing
someone who's been sucking on ice sucking on his tongue hand
scrabbling and pinching and searching for his nipple and when he
sucks in a breath Angel shudders.

Just shudders right there against him and kisses him harder. Finds
a nipple once, twice and growls short and holds Xander tighter
even though he's... not trying to get away.

Feels like he rubbing heat all over Angel and then ow because the
neck of the shirt doesn't go when the rest of it does, just peeled
down the front like a sardine can.

Angel holding him them, holding him up off his feet and against the
wall and bruising him. Sucking hard at Xander's nipples and
chewing on them and it hurts it does and he'll yell just as soon
just as soon --

Down again and Angel is half pushing, half carrying him and Angel's
bed is just exactly as hard as of *course* Angel's bed would be.
Straightening his spine for him despite years of abuse and he starts
to laugh and Angel... shows his teeth and *fuck* he's getting hard
again and it just *reminds* him.

All comes crashing in hard and he can see the stain he left on the
door from where he is. The door, where he was leaving, because
Angel was getting even more disturbing than before and  he becomes
aware that he's trying to push Angel away --
Don't try it, Xander.

Above him, half-growling, half-pleading and that's... fuck, it's worse
somehow than the rest and Xander pushes again, and pushes and
tries to writhe beneath Angel and watches the vampire's face
change every time their dicks brush, every time Xander's dick rubs
up against fine, fine wool.

And he can do it. Say the words and maybe get free. Or maybe
make it that much realer and have it anyway so he doesn't speak,
just struggles and struggles until Angel finally just flips him over
onto his belly and spreads Xander's legs. And then he can tell
himself there's just no fucking point, say it again when Angel begins
to open him with one slicked finger.

And again when there's two, and Xander is flushing, blushing hard
and squirming and this is *not*, he's just not built for this and
it's going to be awful and the little flares of... *something* aren't
enough and then Angel twists his fingers, vicious and crooked and
before Xander can yell Angel hits that little fucking *thing* that
he knows is his prostate the way he knows the sun is warm and
the yell... changes.

Rush of blood to his cock and Xander's tries to push up to his
knees, wants to stop, slow down, try to figure out but he only gets
up on one knee before Angel does it again. Lands sprawling,
off-center, but Angel follows every move, relentless, and Xander
cries out again and earns another twist.

Grabs at the sheets and tries to pull himself away by pure
muscular force and his cock is trapped against smooth and hard
that can't move, can't touch him and when Angel yanks him back into
place all Xander can do is shake his head. Push his face into the
pillow because he wants to say it, wants to stop this but his hips
are moving, fucking against the mattress and back --

oh back against Angel's hand, fingers deep inside and teasing him,
making him empty.

Making him want.
And it's starting to feel inevitable that walking the streets in
*this* neighborhood on *this* night, after everything's been fucked
despite the good guys winning -- Of course he had to wind up here,
belly down to Angel's mattress and making every sound but actual
words and --

Yanked up. Nudged with something thick, warmer. Too thick and
he panics hard for a moment and Angel shifts again. Slips what can
only be a thumb inside, tracing the inner edges hard, pushing and
stretching on the hole and suddenly it feels like everything Xander
*is* could just fall right out if he isn't... if Angel doesn't...

Back again and *in*. One sudden hard thrust that makes Xander
choke on a scream. Shock to pain to pain to oh god pain hurts so --
*don't* -- but Angel doesn't stop, short rocking thrusts in and in
and right up against him, so smooth and hard and *cold* against
him. Too much, making him jump, try to pull away and oh no oh no
because Angel lets him and then thrusts in again.

Xander grabs at the sheets again, tries to get a chunk of mattress
in his fist, needs to hold on to something because he won't be able
to take this. Feels like Angel's just getting bigger and bigger inside
him with every heartbeat. Feels every inch of skin and wonders if
he'll taste pre-come when he swallows and then Angel pauses.

Silent above him, still. Tracing patterns on his back, teasing just
around Xander's hole with slick fingers, circling round and around,
clockwise for a while, then counterclockwise. Flexing a little
inside and Xander gasps but Angel just keeps teasing.

Until it's almost a kind of itch that just gets worse with every
touch, tingling and spreading weird poisoned heat and it would be
fine if Angel would stop. Light trace over and over, lightest touch
in the fucking world while his dick sits like a bar of iron all the
way up Xander's ass.

Xander won't say his name.

Breathes deep instead, shocking *give* inside and Angel's in a
microfraction, a million miles deeper and Xander starts to rock.
Back and in and back and in, tiny circles and Angel finally moves
his finger. Itch is still there, though. Itch is all through him, in
fucking *teeth* and it doesn't make sense, but it's Angel's trick,
Angel bastard's torture and he wants to cry.

But all he does is push back and back and back and let the pressure
push out all the sounds, grit his teeth together when he can, tear
a hole in the sheet and it's like fucking himself on a statue until
all of a sudden it isn't.

Swept up and back and gravity sinking him hard on Angel and Angel's
even deeper and Xander can't help it, head falls back and the sounds
are open, vowel things and Angel has both arms wrapped around
Xander, cool and hard and shaking and Angel thrusts in. In. In.
Horrible control when everything else was just...

When Xander was just... And Xander digs short nails into Angel's
forearms and fucks himself back a little harder, faster,
deliberately off rhythm to force Angel to --

-- hard thrust he can feel in his teeth and another and another and
one hand moving to Xander's barely hard dick and and *teasing*
brush of fingers and Xander slaps Angel's hand away shakes
himself half free. Hand and knees now and he doesn't wait, just
takes his dick and works it hard, not thinking, not thinking eyes
squeezed shut but the next thrust makes him groan, helplessly.

Right there where he


and Xander's dick jumps to life because


Angel's hitting him just


right and then it's faster and more ragged but still hitting and
the sounds of flesh on flesh and

Xander --

Angel's voice and it's just as ragged as everything else and
Xander's dick is just this obedient little puppy spurting pre-come
on command and Angel pulls him back up and he twists in the grip
and gets himself a weird corkscrewing down-stroke that nearly
makes him say a word and Angel is holding him again, cold, so cold
against Xander's skin.

Only one arm and Angel reaches in to touch Xander's dick and
Xander slaps him away again, bites off the no' in his own lip
tastes blood and feels Angel *surge* and oh --

He *wants* Angel wants and Xander grins for a heartbeat before
Angel nearly roars. Lets go just long enough to get Xander's wrists
in one hand and his dick in the other and then Xander can only grunt
with each thrust that slams him into Angel's grip until something
that feels thin and vitally important snaps inside and he shoots.

Rides out the rest of Angel's ragged thrusts in a grey fragile haze
that breaks into a million pieces when he feels Angel come deep
within him, shouting his name, then reforms much, much thicker.

Feels himself gathered up against Angel, skin to sticky skin.

Pushes against the other man's hold.

And let's the haze take him deep when Angel just holds him tighter.