by Te
April 2003

Disclaimers: I want them, dammit. And yet I do not have
them. Also dammit.

Spoilers: None, really. Assume this takes place early in S2
of Angel.

Summary: It seemed like an excellent idea.

Ratings Note: NC-17.

Author's Note: Ben asks, Ben gets. Sort of prequel to
Reason knows nothing. Sort of.

Acknowledgments: Heap big thanks to Ben and Trog.

Feedback: Always.


Xander leaned against the storeroom wall and stretched a
little. Killing vampires in the big city always made him feel
good and relaxed. There were so many things to *hit* the
bastards with in an honest to God alleyway. "So what's
with you and Kate?"

Gunn froze, box of stakes joggling dangerously in his arms
for a moment. "Okay, see, you really cannot *ever* use
my name and *Lockley's* name in the same sentence like

It wasn't the world's best straight line, but a man took
what opportunities were available. "What about ‘Gunn
and Ka-tie sittin' in a tree --"

"Are you high?" Gunn tossed the box neatly on the pile
and turned around. "I don't even *have* to whup your
narrow White ass for that one, see, because if Officer
Barbie heard you calling her Katie…" He trailed off

Xander smiled his sweetest smile. "It's just so touching
to hear you say that, Gunn. I mean, you don't just
respect her as a woman, you respect her as --"

"Did your dad just not beat you *enough* as a child? I
mean, is this something you need help with? I could
take off my belt."

Xander batted his eyelashes. "I love it when you talk
dirty, baby."

And it was good that he was already so close to the
ground, because he's reasonably sure that Gunn's flying
tackle would have sent him, well, flying if he hadn't

It was good to wrestle Gunn, it was natural. Like Xander
was someone who'd spent his life roughhousing with
other boys, had a normal childhood with suburban
backyards and barbecues and no vampires to eat what
friends he *did* have.

Gunn laughed like it was the same for him, though
Xander was pretty sure that vampires were only part
of the problem of *his* childhood.

"Xand-man, I think it's time I taught you a lesson."

The ‘I's' came out ‘ah,' a broad parody of the South
neither one of them had ever seen. "Oh, Mr. Gunn, I
do declare you're nothing but a *beast*!"

"Prepare to learn the righteous rage of the Black man,

And there was a beat, and another, and then they were
laughing. Pressed close enough that Xander could feel
the hitch of Gunn's chest, and the puffs of his breath.
He smelled like Juicy Fruit and… something damned
manly, really. "Get *off* me, you lunatic. Aren't we late
for something?"

Gunn kept snickering. "You gotta date?"

Xander swiveled his hips -- well, as much as he could.
"Awww, yeah, baby. The PlayStation wants me. Wants
me *bad*."

"The platform is *mine*, asshole. Thus, its love for me
is true."

"That's not what you said when I kicked your *ass* at
Gran Turismo."

"Once. *Once*, and -- okay, have you ever noticed how
much time we spend on the floor?"

"The word is *homosocial* bonding, my good man. Not
to be confused with --"

"Who you callin' a homo?"

Another hip swivel was *clearly* called for. "It's okay,
sweetie," Xander lisped. "You can be as straight as you
want in the morning."

And there was a moment -- a clearly defined moment,
even -- where Gunn could talk some more trash and
Xander could be a jerk and they could get right back to
disentangling themselves and wandering off to a long
night of beer, computer-generated graphics, and rock
music (or possibly rap), but it passed sometime during
the course of Xander's musings. Because Gunn was
just looking at him, serious and steady.

Close enough -- and this wasn't for the first time -- that
Xander could almost make out the subtle break between
black pupil and less black iris. Close enough for Xander
to notice *again* that Gunn had the kind of mouth he'd
only ever seen on women in glossy magazines -- soft
and wide and even more soft.

Close enough so that there just wasn't any excuse.

This was Kate's cue to walk in and make snide remarks
about their machismo and what it was hiding. Or Angel's
cue to just walk in and kinda lurk in a mocking kind of
way. Hell, even Giles could walk in and roll his eyes
heavenward and… none of this was actually happening.

What was happening was that Gunn was leaning even
closer, and saying "I don't get down like that."

Which made no sense whatsoever to Xander, because
right then Gunn was kissing him. Not hard, not any kind
of punishing or point-making kiss, but one that
confirmed *all* of Xander's dearly held suspicions about
what that mouth would feel like on his own. And those
other suspicions about what a *good* kisser Gunn was.
And those *other* suspicions about what Xander himself
would do when kissed by a Gunn with a soft, sweet
mouth and a great deal of natural talent.

Namely: moan way too much and kiss right back and also
clutch Gunn by the arms and also --- dammit -- spread
his legs, because it was *hard* to feel Gunn's heat
through all the clothes they were wearing and it was
suddenly really necessary that he *did*.

And when Gunn finally *stopped* kissing him, the only
language he could come up with was, "Whuh?"

"I *said*," and this time Gunn was doing the hip-swiveling,
the really damned *impressive* hip swiveling, "I don't
get *down* like that."

"Okay, I know I'm in danger of breaking the moment here,
and I'd regret that more than I have any intention of
admitting to, but… the *hell*?"

It occurred to Xander that, among the many other aspects
of Gunn which were very, very important just now, there
was also that *particular* smile. That slow, wet smile that
had everything to do with sex and… and sex. "Straight in
the morning is bullshit, Xander. And I. Don't. Play that."

"Oh. *Oh*. Well. Um. I have to say that spending tomorrow
morning gay is suddenly sounding like a damned good idea,
and I like good ideas, and if you kiss me again I'll probably
stop --"

Gunn pushed hard against him and hard was a good word,
and so was tongue, and so was --


"I needed a crazy White man in my life, you know?"


"Someone to play video games with."

"Oh fuck yeah --"

"Someone to talk shit with."

"I love it when -- oh Jesus -- you end your sentences
with prepositions."

"Someone to make completely incoherent when I do…


Gunn had good hands. Big hands. Hard hands. *Warm*
hands that felt so so so fucking good around his cock and
his own hands were useless, there was nothing he could
do but grab at Gunn and open his mouth and he couldn't
even moan, the only thing that came out was air and he
was pretty sure he hadn't been hard when he came down
here, but he was also sure that he'd been hard his entire
life and --

"Oh fuck oh fuck kiss me again fuck Gunn --"

And he did, and finally there was something Xander *could*
do. He could suck Gunn's tongue and think about sucking
other things and wonder if he could leave marks on that
brown, brown skin and wonder if Gunn would leave marks
on him, if he would hold him tight enough, hold him down
and --

Coming was beautiful, evil relief that took all the good,
good feeling Gunn was giving him and making it different
and great and the next thing he was really aware of was of
being a Xander-shaped puddle on the floor.

And of Gunn rubbing slick, salty fingers over his mouth and
saying, "I think we should do that again."

"Yeah. Like… a lot. And like now."

He couldn't stop moving his hands. Maybe he'd been doing
it the whole time, and that was almost *tragic*, because
it meant he'd been stroking all that muscle and warm skin
while he was too fuck-drunk to appreciate it.

But then… he could appreciate it *now*.

Xander flipped them over and buried his face in Gunn's neck.
Felt him do that oh-no-vampire stiffening and then the
oh-yeah-sex relaxation and he *tasted* good. Like salt
and skin and Xander could remember everyone he ever
wanted to do this to, and he could stop thinking about
*them* and start thinking about getting Gunn's shirt up
and his pants down.

Licked Gunn's nipple and made a note to do that a *lot*
in the future and messy-kissed his way down and down
until he could nuzzle against Gunn's boxer briefs and --
God -- smell him.

"Ah fuck, Xander, suck me --"

Xander blushed hard and shuddered and he didn't know
if it was good or better or just…. *hot*.

Pulled Gunn's briefs down and opened his mouth and
*salt* and hot and slick, slicker, wet, and okay, so he
didn't exactly know how to do this, but he knew what he
liked and he knew what he wanted to do. And he knew
how good it was to feel Gunn's hands in his hair and
hear him gasp.

He hadn't been thinking of this, he knew he hadn't been
thinking of this, but it felt so *right*. Gunn's cock hard
and heavy on his tongue, pushing in deep and.

Fucking him.

The only thing to do with that was relax as best he could
and let Gunn do it and… yeah. Think about all the

"Jesus fucking --"

Gunn thrust in hard and Xander gagged a little and that
was good, too, because it made him drool and made
him suck and he could feel it all the way down to his
own cock, feel himself start to get hard again.

And when Gunn finally did come, Xander gave some
serious thought to a lifetime of Gran Turismo and

Life? Was good.