ethrosdemon & Lar ||| Buffy & Angel

Shameless IV: No Fear
by Lar and ethrosdemon

EMAIL: naturallycalm@yahoo.com =and= HERE

Distribution: List archives, and our own sites!
Disclaimer: Gah, we own diddley. That means no Xander or Lindsey. We don't mean to step on any toes. No suing. If you were to sue us, you would get nothing but a headache having to deal with us in court, we are demented.
Rating: NC-17 trust us on that one
Spoilers: S4/1
Summary: Lindsey stalks and begs. Xander broods. Tequila heals all wounds.
Dedication: To our adoring fans (are you all on crack?) we love you, keep the fb and suggestions rolling in, our addled brains need them.

=====

"Right, the black face, not the blue. Yes, that's the correct address, make sure it's there no later than tomorrow."

Flowers hadn't gotten him even a hang up, so he was switching gears, going for a gift that would last, be around a while, and maybe have a little resonance.

He should cut his losses and move on. Why did he give a damn if Xander was pissed off? He has cases to work on, a plot to kill Lilah to put the finishing touches to, that dinner at Leland's to worry about, this whole fiasco was taking up way too much of his energy.

"It's the temper that's gonna be yer downfall, boy." So far his mama had pretty much been on the mark about that. Time and again he reached out for something, and his anger surfaced, destroyed everything before he could take stock of the situation or prepare himself.

Loss of control always shatters his finely constructed world-view, his order in the chaos. He knows the nerves over having Xander over, the fact that he had even invited the man over to begin with //one night stand, Lindsey, remember what that means?//, and the missed reservations had set him up for the SOB performance at the bar.

Not that he didn't want to get in a few more licks on Lilah. But normally that would have never happened. He wouldn't have snapped like that. The trigger was knotting his stomach and amping up his stress as much as the fact that he had lost it in such a public place, and that Lilah would sure as hell get him back. He fucking smacked her because she was trying to goad him through Xander. She was hurting the boy's feelings to make Lindsey angry. And it worked. Way too well, he was sure she was thinking this morning when she had to put on extra concealer to cover the bruise on her check. That part of it was conflicting. He'd never hit a woman before, but she was hardly one, and sure, that was a rationalization and not even a good one, but she's Lilah fucking Morgan, and she would eat his liver if she thought it would get her a better parking spot.

Of course Xander doesn't have a damned clue about that. He doesn't know anything about his life, and it should stay that way for everyone's best interest.

=========

If he didn't know better, Xander would swear the morons he works with are setting him up. It is too perfect an opportunity for them to ride his ass for the rest of the time he works there, but he knows as soon he sees the look on Roy's face that it isn't a set up.

Flowers. Something exotic, flowers he's never seen before. They're deep, luscious, violet purple with spots of white, masculine somehow. Appealingly strange-looking and definitely expensive. Being handed to him at the exact moment that Roy pulls up to get him for the gym. He doesn't even bother to attempt to explain them away, he just tosses his bag in the backseat of the car, tells him to wait a minute, and dumps the whole thing in the neighbor's trashcan.

"Yo, man, what the fuck was that about?" Roy must be interested; he turns down the stereo so he can actually hear Xander's answer.

"I'm not a flowers kind of guy, what can I say." Stares out the windshield, not looking over at all, and it sucks to feel this way. Roy's been a friend to him since he started, teaching him the tricks and traps of the trade, and although it's just a surface kind of friendship, Xander still hates feeling like it's an effort to maintain it today. More fall-out to chalk up to the nightmare that was last night.

Three fucking hours to get the car, get the directions switched around and get back to Oxnard. Up the rest of the night alternating between being pissed and hurt and flashing back to the last time Lindsey was here. He could still smell him on the sheets, so Xander stripped the bed and laid on it staring at the ceiling. Must have drifted off sometime close to dawn, still wondering how Life could pinpoint Xander Harris' current location at any given time and send forth the forces of destruction to screw him over.

He hates that it matters to him that Lindsey has turned out to be some kind of freak. Right at the time Xander was hearing that evil witch talk about Latin boys and double digits and making that thinly veiled prostitute reference, while his already over wound system went springing up another notch at the palpable anger that Lindsey was projecting, he was still thinking that somehow it was going to be OK. This disaster of a night was going to be a test, and they were going to look back and laugh at how bad it all went that one night years ago when they were just beginning to date.

Yeah, hi, this is Reality. We want you back, stat.

Hit her, Lindsey had *hit* her, and that was so bad that there weren't even words for it. It was his dad all over again, albeit in a much more attractive package. And just no. No more abusive people, not for Xander, no way. Pushes aside the part of his mind that says 'you wanted to pop her one, too, she was being a bitch, admit it' and knows that he wouldn't have done it no matter what.

"Earth to Harris." It's Roy, interrupting his mental rehash and bringing him back to the present.

"Sorry. Zoning." Looks out and sees they're at the gym already.

"Look, I'm not the best one to be telling you this kind of shit, but whatever it was, whoever it was, just, you know, fuck 'em." Roy's leaning over to get his bag out of the back seat. "Not worth it to mess up your head."

"Right, that's what I'm going with. The whole not-worth-the-time plan of action." Xander attempts a grin, misses but hits something close enough to satisfy Roy. Grabs his bag from the where it sits on the seat beside him and rolls out of the car. "I'm already so over it, I forget what it was."

"It was the dickhead you drove to LA for." Roy doesn't even bother to look back, and that's when Xander knows it's going to be a long fucking day. He's thinking he's got ten minutes tops before everyone knows about the God damn flowers, and he'll never hear the end of it.

+++++++++

Lilah doesn't even look at him at the meeting. Fours hours of "strategy" on how to deal with the unraveling Malloy situation, and she doesn't look at him once. He saw her cheek when she looked over to answer a question from Royce in accounting about her expense account. Pancake makeup really doesn't hide bruises all that well after all.

He thought about apologizing, knows there's no point to it. She wants this, wants to have one up on him and a reason to fuck him over next time around. They both know it, and he's almost as pissed at himself for giving her the ammunition as he is guilty about the whole thing.

All the words he could have hurled at her have been whirling about in his head non-stop since he watched Xander storm away, and they're just no good to him now.

He fucked himself royally, just like always. Not only left himself exposed to Lilah's well-plotted revenge, but also possibly ruined any chance he had with Xander.

Sitting on his sofa listening to the leather creak with every movement to refill his cut-crystal tumbler with more scotch, he allows himself the luxury of fantasy. Imagines the night with no Lilah, then with no leaving his apartment to begin with. Plays over Xander waking up next to him in his bed and curling an arm around his waist. Sees breakfast and the parting when he has to leave for work "I'll be here when you get home." And that is far fetched even for the fantasy world, but it would've been nice all the same. Someone here to make the place less sterile, maybe a dirty sock on the bathroom floor or a crumb-filled plate on the counter, and it's been a long time since he's even had anyone stay the night.

It's ridiculous to him, the entire situation. So easily attached, the story of his life, and every attachment brings a new scar to his psyche. He knows that if Xander never calls him again he will carry the boy with him, all the recriminations and regrets for what never was.

Comes finally to the place where what he hates and regrets the most is him, being himself. Being Lindsey MacDonald.

====================

Wednesday night. Big crowd, all kinds of college girls who do a lot of drinking and groping and vomiting in the hall between the bathrooms. College Night sucks, because they drink up all their cash and don't tip, and that's why the guys make Bob promise to do it once every other month. Xander's first one and he hates it already.

Frank nudges him on his way to the stage. "Dude, college girls don't make you drive to LA. They'll do you in the alley."

"Oh you're a fucking riot, that's what you are." Xander flips him off casually as he leans down and tightens the laces on his boots. "And Bob says you're the Hall Monitor tonight if he catches you feeling up the girls again."

Frank swears, stomps onto the stage muttering something about not cleaning up anyone's puke and missing out on prime college tits. Xander grins; Bob could care less who feels up the willing girls. Walks to the corner bar for a bottle of water while Frank does his MTV Badass routine.

Stops dead in his tracks when he sees Lindsey leaning way over in the shadows behind Scott the bartender. And doesn't Scott suddenly decide he's out of white wine and hey, there's a case in the kitchen, so I'll be right back.

The initial rush of feeling keeps Xander rooted to the spot staring, listening to his own heartbeat thud along in his ears. He looks so edible, and Xander wishes so fervently that he had never driven down to LA, that he could be glad to see him.

Or at least he could admit that he *was* glad to see him, skin thrumming with the need to go over and get one of the full-body-contact kisses that ends with Lindsey's hands in Xander's hair and Xander's tongue in Lindsey's mouth. Sees himself doing it right now, College Night be damned, then he hears that sharp crack of flesh on flesh and remembers to be pissed.

Lindsey sees the rush of emotion go over Xander's face; the boy is nothing if not open with his thoughts whether he realizes it or not. Is relieved to see that at least part of the reaction he invokes is clearly discernible as pleasure and desire before it darkens and closes into anger and stubbornness. He wills the purgatory to end. To be able to not care or ever think about this kid again or for him to let him touch, caress, lick every available surface of his body. He couldn't stay away, four drinks, and he knows a DUI will never stick to him, so he was gonna be at the Fabulous Ladies Nightclub or die trying to be.

"You know I work here, right?" Too angry to care how dumb that rhetorical question is. He feels ridiculous, knows now that Lindsey saw him dance and that's pretty damn invasive. Doesn't matter that he's seen him naked and sweating and sucking his cock. Hates himself for going to that last particular situation.

"That was the general idea. Did you like the flowers?" Calm, calm, that's the operative word. Lindsey is being quiet, his movements are extremely minimized, like he was taught to do with any animal that he cornered. And he cornered Xander tonight, did it with full knowledge that the act put him at yet another disadvantage, did it anyway.

Xander crosses his arms, glad for the dark that hides the blush he feels creeping over his cheeks. "Oh, those were from you? I didn't read the card." Clipped tones telling the other man exactly how he's feeling.

"Right. I just wanted to come here in person and tell you how sorry I am." Takes a deep breath, sets his beer on the bar, forces himself to not step any closer to the wide barrier of personal space Xander has undoubtedly got going right now.

"Sorry you slept alone last night? Or did you?" Muscle twitching in his jaw, and this is just not the kind of conversation he wants to be having. Not here, and really not ever, and it's surreal to be fighting with the guy who fucked him senseless just days ago.

"Xander, it's not like..." Does move this time, steps about one foot towards him, hand on the bar-top sliding, and freezing when Xander steps back.

"Look, let's take this outside. I don't want to have this repeated to me word for word tomorrow." Turns on his heel, offering the lovely spectacle of his bare ass in the g-string as he heads for the dressing room, through it and out the back door. Lindsey's right on his tail, but not so close to miss the way the brighter lights hit the curve of muscle, the swell and dip on hips before Xander pulls sweats on raggedly, jerking them over the boots and turning to look at Lindsey. Who is trying hard *not* to stare at the way the sweats are too tight and the g-string just pulls everything... well, forward... because getting caught will most likely get his ass kicked right here in the parking lot

He clears his throat instead. "Could we start over? Please? Or maybe just another chance and I'll make it up to you."

Xander's already shaking his head no. "I don't date people who get mad and express themselves physically." And there's a shitload of sincerity in *that* statement, causing Lindsey to wince, mentally kick himself again. God damn Lilah and god damn his own fucking temper.

"I swear to GOD that was the only time I have ever done anything like that, and I know you don't believe me." Begging? Yes, fine. Begging is good, begging fits in right here like a piece in a puzzle. Fits in with the rest of the walking nightmare this week has been. He will humiliate himself in the parking lot of a strip club if the means Xander will just say yes.

"Yeah, you're right, I don't." Cuts him right off, completely, doesn't want to hear another single syllable.

"Xander." Tries to take his hand, touch him, make the connection, but Xander sees it coming and pulls back.

Reaching around to open the door, he doesn't even look at Lindsey as he says, "I wish as much as you do that that had never happened, but it did, and I can't just forget it. Just leave me alone."

++++++++

There was never even a slight chance that Lindsey was just going to leave him alone. He wasn't a violent guy. Maybe if this whole thing had been a fight over him working too much or having anger management issues, sure, he would understand and be pissed and move on //eventually//, but for it to end over something that was a fucking fluke, not gonna happen.

Besides, he already sent the watch. In for a penny, in for a pound.

Most of his day was spent looking over his shoulder for whatever Lilah had up her sleeve. She had come into his office around ten that morning acting like nothing had ever happened, and Lindsey had a momentary spark of hope that he was in an alternate reality, and Xander was about to call him. Then she turned her head, and he saw the mark. So, his nerves were shot to hell and back worrying that he would open his bottom draw and be bitten by a rattlesnake, step into the elevator and drop to his death, drain his coffee mug and realize there was an odd, lingering taste of bitter almond: the regular associate's worries at Wolfram and Hart.

Home again, home again, jiggidy jig for a shower and a change of clothes, checks the machine just to be sure, and is out the door again in under a half-hour. On the road to Oxnard after two more stops, and he's hoping Xander doesn't have a gun license.

++++++++++++++

There's something wrong with his alarm. It's going off like a doorbell. Ring and stop. Ring and stop. Damn, another thing to replace and right on top of having all of Steve's city clothes dry-cleaned.

Then it occurs to him that it *is* the doorbell because he didn't set the alarm. Tumbles out of bed in a rush until he thinks about who might be on the other side of the door. Peers out of the bad peephole with an eye still bleary from sleep, sees a really tall guy in a blue delivery uniform. Check, not the stalker/lawyer boy. Opens the door.

"Mr. A. Harris?" Fed-ex guy looks him up and down; Xander's not in the mood.

"Yeah. A. Harris, that's me. Let me guess. Paternity suit?" Neither one of them cracks a smile, and the guy hands over a box around the size of a softball. Xander takes it cautiously, wants to shake it but that seems a little Christmas-morningy. "My mail order bride is coming one piece at a time?"

"Sign here please."

Signs the electronic box thing that has replaced good old paper and pen, closes the door on Mr. Personality, and puts the box to his ear. No ticking. This could be interesting.

Sets it on the counter and looks at the brown paper. Sees the name of a shop in LA as the return address on the shipping label, but knew already it was from him. Has a moment when he remembers that crazy painter guy who cut off his ear and mailed it to his beloved, but thinks Lindsey might kidnap him and tie him to his bed before he actually started removing body parts to show his devotion.

Time to open it. Right, and what if it's something freaky? What if it's handcuffs, or a stack of naked Polaroids that Lindsey took of himself to let Xander know what he was missing. What if... what if he opened the damn thing and got it over with instead of being a lameass and playing games all day.

Crisp, sharp folds of paper crackle as he splits the tape and peels it away. Dark-blue box, shiny gold letters. Smooth, plush feel on his hands as he holds it and rubs it. Wants to smile, wants to throw it away unopened, wants to call him and tell him to fuck off . And hurry up and get here and be naked when he does.

No, not going there. Wrong to be with the guy who solves things with his fists. The pretty thing that's in this box is going back. Right now. Third class mail. Right after he opens it to see what it is, even though he knows the answer to that ahead of time. Cracks the box, and the lid swings open like the hinges are oiled. The little tag in front of the watch says "Patek Phillipe 5085/1a." The metal just gleams; the light in the room is attracted to it, makes it glitter on the black velvet lining.

It is without a doubt the single most expensive thing he has ever been this close to. More than just the usual clock information on it. It's got moon phases //hey, just what i need when I go back to Sunnydale, I can be Oz's back up guy// and another dial that serves no purpose that he can puzzle out without taking out the little book and reading about it. And that would mean touching it. He really wants to touch it. Wants to try it on at least once, knows it will feel heavy and cool and perfect on his wrist. Knows somehow it's the same kind of watch Lindsey wears //not exactly the same, that's too bizarre even for him, different face plate, same company// and this is some fucking amazing make-up gift. //Make up? No, no making up, I told him to leave me alone//

Resolutely shuts the box and puts it down gently on the counter, covers up the navy blue with the loose wrapping paper. And goes to take a long, long shower.

Several hours and many fondlings of the watch later, Xander is startled from his "Millennium" marathon on FX by a knock at his door.

"Sweet, another ass-kissing gift, maybe this time a car," he blurts out on the loud side as he opens the door without looking in the peek hole.

"I take it you got the watch then?" Lindsey, brown paper shopping bag in one hand, an armful of plastic bag on the other side, jeans and long-sleeved, baby blue t-shirt, and Xander realizes he hasn't slammed the door yet.

"Yeah, I got it." He sees the Rosses sitting on their balcony across from his door and sighs.

"Come in." He steps to the side to let Lindsey in and closes the door behind him.

"I didn't bring you a car, but I do have some food and drinks." He sets both bags on the couch and waits for Xander come over and look inside.

"Twinkies? You brought me Hostess goodness? How the hell... I don't want any answers to involve going through my trash." He is pointing and waving his finger in the air in mock seriousness, and Lindsey is almost to the point of tears at the relief of just being inside the apartment.

"I like Twinkies. I thought everyone did." Lindsey sits cautiously on the couch while Xander picks up the bags and puts them on the floor and continues to riffle through the contents. He's on the other end of the couch, but they're both sitting.

"And mucho alcohol. I see now how it is." Said around the twin of the first twinkie he's already devoured. "I hope you don't think you are forgiven. Because you aren't. I'm sending the watch back."

"Sending it back? Why don't you keep it? It doesn't mean anything." //Yes it does you lying sack of cowshit, it means something, I picked it out just for him, so keep it, he keeps the watch//

"No, I can't keep your gifts, it's not right." Pulls out a bottle of tequila, rummages again and finds limes rolling down there too. The tequila is vaguely chilly, was probably ice cold when he left LA.

"You could hear me out and then keep it." Lindsey watches as Xander gets up and heads to the kitchenette and rummages in a tiny little cabinet for glasses. Finds two relatively small ones, sets them on the counter next to the brown paper wrapper that covers the watch box again. He comes back in with the glasses and a small knife. Pulls the shabby coffee table over closer to him, moves aside the newspaper and slices into a lime with extremely controlled motions. Won't look at Lindsey as he says, "Do you really think you have anything to say that I haven't heard before? 'It won't ever happen again.' 'I couldn't control myself.' 'I'm so sorry, if she hadn't pissed me off, it would never have happened.'"

Lindsey runs a hand through his hair. "Fuck, Xander. I have never hit a woman before in my life, and I'm not your dad."

Xander hands Lindsey the huge shot of tequila he has poured. "Ok, so a little transparent on the personal angst there. You got the idea." Avoids even the remote possibility of their hands touching when the glass is handed off. Tosses him a lime, slides the knife down the table towards him.

Lindsey catches the fruit deftly, sets the lime down and quarters it. Plays the no eye contact game for just long enough to move the knife well away from Xander's reach. Then moves the table out and leans forward. Makes sure Xander is looking at him this time. "Yeah, I did. I'm sorry if you grew up like that, but I did too, so I know what it's like. Just hear me out about Lilah, please?"

"Talk all you want. The air's free." Gulp of liquor and a shudder when it goes down, then a bite of the lime. "Need salt. You keep right on talking." Gets up and heads out to see if he actually has any salt that isn't already in his junk food.

"Listen, Lilah and I are kind of like rivals at work. We work in the same department, and we compete for the best clients. She is a complete bitch, but I'm not exactly a saint myself. We take each other down whenever we have the opportunity. She crossed the line the other night. She was using you to get to me, and I never should have hit her, but I couldn't stand the fact that you might believe what she was spewing." Voice a little louder until Xander comes back in with a grimy looking plastic salt shaker and sits back down. Still at the other end of the couch, Lindsey notes. He drinks, too. Bites the lime, reminds himself that if he could kiss Xander right now, he would taste like lime.

"You're saying that she's always like that?" Not watching the way Lindsey's jaw works as he swallows and bites, licks the juice from the corner of his mouth. Not at all.

Lindsey sighs. "I'm saying that's not even the worst I've seen."

"Hm, I know someone like that myself. My ex." Look the glass is empty already. Xander leans up and pours again. Sits back not quite as far into the corner of the couch, licks the skin between his thumb and first finger and pours on the salt.

"Lilah wishes she could get the opportunity to be my ex." Lindsey's gaze is riveted. Thinks to himself: Is he doing this on purpose? Goading me into doing something stupid? He has to know how he looks... that mouth, his tongue.

Xander grins at him before licking the salt back off and taking another huge gulp of tequila. "I got that impression. So, no Latin lovers stashed away in some lovepad in L.A.?" Biting the lime again, sees Lindsey is staring at him, and it makes him warmer than the alcohol currently burning in his stomach.

"No, my last boyfriend was blond and not the bottle variety. Besides, that was long time ago, and no one from work ever met him." Matches Xander's shot with one of his own, waits before moving even though he wants to lunge for the boy right now. Strategy. Patience. Planning. All on his side.

That and a wickedly high tolerance to tequila.

Second empty and Xander lifts an eyebrow as he realizes he forgot to do the salt first. "Ah. So, what're ya gonna do when you get tanked on this tequila and have no place to sleep it off?" Salt then lime, no big deal, it's all good. Mental note while he can still make them, don't drink tequila when you haven't eaten all day because you were busy brooding.

"Your couch or my car if you pick me up and throw me out." Like there is a chance in hell he's getting up and going anywhere tonight. Watches Xander pour more salt on his hand. Wants to lick it off and then keep going, up his arm, up his neck, over to the mouth...

"Your car? You drive a truck." Genuine puzzlement in his soft brown eyes as Xander turns his head to look at Lindsey, tilts slightly towards him more by the force of gravity than by the actual desire to move.

"I have a car too." Licks his own hand, reaches for the salt, slow movements so Xander can track him. Pour, lick, sip and bite. Deliberately lets the juice run a little so he can rub it off and draw those saucer-like, staring eyes up to his again.

"What kind?" Sits up and grabs the bottle and forgets all about the glass. And the salt. And the lime for that matter.

"What's your guess?" Big grin from Lindsey as he watches all this. The boy is so gone. It's going to be simple as pie.

Xander chuckles a little, waves the bottle at Lindsey and lets him take it. "Like I have to guess. Mercedes. It's a silver sedan." Looks smug and proud of himself for getting it out, all in English. Very little slurring that he is aware of.

"Who's stalking whom?" Puts the bottle on the table again. Leans over closer to Xander, who shows no signs of getting upset about it. Drops his voice down so it's low and rough. "So, you gonna throw me out?"

Head lolling on the back of the couch, Xander watches Lindsey get closer, waits for the contact to happen. Despite the langor of the alcohol, he can feel the *want* stringing out from his belly like fine silver wires. "You gonna start begging for forgiveness anytime soon?"

"Tell me how you like your beggin' and we can get down to business." Pure country that time, leather and whiskey and oh christ, that's so unfair.

Mouth as hot as he remembered, soft and pressing his, sucking on his bottom lip and Xander whimpers at the way it makes him feel. He opens his mouth, Lindsey's tongue is there to meet his own, slow and deep. Hands cupping Xander's face, Lindsey takes his time and kisses him completely, sharp taste of lime the counterpoint to the salt and tang of tequila. Under it all, something mellow that's Xander himself, and Lindsey can't get enough. Kisses harder now, lips pressing, teeth nipping and Xander's hands are pulling him closer. Lets himself melt into the long sweet body and they slip to the side, Lindsey on top.

Breaks the kiss. "How's my opening statement?" he asks, licking along the jawline, picking up more traces of lime there.

"That's some mighty fine begging you've got going."

"Mm hmm. Let's drink to the excellence of my begging skills, which have only just begun." He sits up slowly and pulls Xander with him. Takes his hand, licks the hollow between thumb and index finger and follows it to his palm. Grabs the salt shaker with his free hand and shakes it over the moist skin. Tosses it onto the table again so he can pick up the lime and sit it on Xander's thigh. Grabs the bottle. "Ready?"

Takes Xander's nod as good enough, presses his palm up toward his mouth, licks from the other side so their tongues meet. Drops his hand, takes a mouthful of the tequila and swallows just a little. Kisses Xander and lets his tongue guide the alcohol over to the boy's open mouth. Allows him to swallow so it won't spill out and has the lime ready. Squeezes it just a little and rubs it over Xander's full and swollen lips, drops it abruptly and licks every drop he can get to from the mouth that's opening eagerly under his laving tongue.

Lindsey reaches down, tugs Xander's shirt free and eases it over his head. Drops to his knees between thighs that open for him eagerly, rubs his face over Xander's hard length still trapped behind the buttons of his Levis.

Almost purrs when the boy writhes under him, pops the buttons as quickly as he can and frees his swollen cock.

Takes it in his hand, looks up to see Xander watching him, flushed skin, dazed eyes and mouth soft, wet, open. "Still begging, Xander," he says, no hint of a smile. Not joking at all.

Tongue wide as he can make it, Lindsey licks him from base to head, opens his mouth when Xander presses himself up and takes him in. Feels Xander grab his head, fingers laced in his hair as he groans out his name. Lets the boy control it all for a minute before pulling back. He might just come himself, fully dressed and rock hard and wanting so badly to be on top of him, inside of him, around him, that his stomach is in knots.

Xander's head is spinning, alcohol, hot wet mouth on him, it's all overwhelming. Lindsey leans into the hand Xander cups on his face, turns to the side and licks the palm, sucks the thumb into his mouth and licks that too. "You still with me here, Xan?"

"I'm here. You're touching me, can't you feel that I'm here?" Leans forward off the couch, nuzzles right into Lindsey's face. Feels him breathing faster, warm air moving on Xander's skin.

Lindsey groans quietly, catches the back of Xander's neck to hold him still. "I mean, are you ok? I feel like I'm molesting you."

"Molest away." He can feel the boy's grin against his cheek, then a soft kiss before the questing face moves over to breathe warm and moist in his ear. Makes himself wait and say, "Xander, I don't want to fuck you and have you wake up in the morning and try to kill me."

"Why would I do that?" Whispered words outlined with the tip of his tongue, making Lindsey shiver and press his fingers harder into the glossy black curls at the nape of the neck he's caressing.

"For taking advantage."

"You can't rape the willing." Licking the line of Lindsey's jaw now, warm, wide tongue, then open-mouth glide over the wet trail. But the other man stops him gently. Looks into his face with eyes so blue and serious that Xander is pulled down into an undertow in the ocean of their depths.

"I'm not talking about rape, I'm talking about regrets." Serious time here, and he needs the answer, needs to know it's the truth and not the tequila.

"The only thing I am gonna regret is not meeting you sooner." Bare truth, no thought behind it, it just comes straight from his brain and gets spoken, Lindsey can tell.

Takes a deep breath. No chance of any doubt here tonight, not if he can help it. He wants this so badly, wants it to mean something, not just be some fling that will vaporise one morning leaving him empty and alone again. "That's the alcohol talking. Xander, I don't want you to have another reason to hate me."

Back to Lindsey's neck, pushing aside the soft, cotton t-shirt and baring the slope where shoulder and neck come together. Three freckles right there that Xander laps gently before continuing. "I don't hate you. I need you, and wait, that might be alcohol, but I couldn't stop thinking about you touching me like this even when I was pissed and hurt and * wanting* to hate you." Kissing that sweet little spot now, and then opening his mouth to almost-bite, teeth grazing the skin.

"Are you sure?" Rapidly losing the ability to keep up the dialogue, the need to throw him to the floor overriding every other thing in the world right now.

"If you tell me you feel the same way."

"If I didn't want you, need to be with you, touching you, I wouldn't have sent you the flowers, shown up at the bar, sent the watch, you getting the picture?" Tugs gently at his hair until Xander looks up, and Lindsey can kiss him again. Soft, sweet kiss, mouth open and barely grazing Xander's, tongue tracing plush lips over and over until he can't wait for it any longer, and he's pressing the boy back into the couch, feeling his skin burn right though the cotton shirt and the heavy denim of his jeans.

"Don't fuck up again, ok?" Said between clenched teeth as Lindsey fists his cock, hard and fast, and Xander knows he's about to come.

"I can't promise, but I will try to be good." All spoken lips on lips, and Xander is breathing Lindsey's recycled air, taking it into his lungs knowing it was just inside the other man, wanting that transference of being. Wedges his hands between their bodies and stills Lindsey's hands. Pops the button and lowers the zipper on the other man's pants. Fingers inside and brushing the flap of the designer underwear. Loving the feel of the nap of the cotton over the hard length he finds there.

"Not gonna last long." Lindsey echoing his own thoughts, again. And maybe there * is* a connection, or it could be hot sex on the go and both of them needy.

Lindsey sliding down his body, not stopping for much contact besides a lick to one nipple and a flick inside his navel, swoops back down on his cock, just the head, and sucking hard. Feels the pre-come spurting out, reaches his hand down and cups his own balls. The other hand on the back of Lindsey's head, trying to shove him down, make him take him in all the way. Instead gets his hands shaken off completely. Looks down to see Lindsey looking back up at him.

"Xan, god. Touch yourself for me. Will you? I wanna watch." So hot to even think of it that he feels his entire body shock out a blush. Does it anyway. Right hand rubbing the spit from Lindsey's mouth and his own fluid down the shaft, flicks his thumb over the opening at the head and goes to work.

Feels the edge, tenses up, and Lindsey's mouth is right there, over his fingers, drawing him back into his mouth and he hits the wall, loses consciousness for a heartbeat, comes back to the sensation of Lindsey licking his fingers.

"Gotta fuck you." And he's hauled to his feet, being propelled by the force which is Lindsey in to the bedroom, onto the bed, sprawled on his stomach. Twists his head back to see Lindsey loses the rest of his clothes, standing over him with a look on his face he's only ever seen before in his mind. Hunger. And it's all for him.

The bed dips with Lindsey's weight, and suddenly body heat, skin on skin as he layers himself on top of the boy and makes himself slow down for one minute, long enough to do it right. Xander's arching his back, though, and spreading his legs so that Lindsey's cock just slips into the crease of his ass. He grinds his teeth, grabs Xander's shoulder to still him. He can barely take the time to rub a hand over himself to gather the slick precome and use it to press a shaking finger inside. Xander just about blows his mind anyway by pushing back, hard, rocking his hips.

"Don't make me wait," he gasps, and who is Lindsey to not oblige a request he wants to fulfill so badly? Lets his finger nudge the bump he was seeking once before replacing it with his cock, biting his own lip hard enough to draw blood so he can push in slowly.

Xander feels the burning pressure and knows how close Lindsey is to the edge. All that want, all that care on his behalf. Another full body flush, and he's hard again already. Arches up off the bed, buries Lindsey completely inside him in one fast hard push and they both shout. Arms around his waist pulling him up to his knees, sweat slick skin slipping as Xander's head rolls back onto Lindsey's shoulder. Eyes closed, mouth open, noise of pleasurepain as Lindsey begins to move inside of him.

"Christ, Xan..." he breathes out low, nothing but farmboy in those full round syllables that drip like honey into the space behind Xander's ear. Lindsey's hand strokes across smooth chest, down tight belly, catches the sticky wetness on his fingertips. Fists Xander's cock and stokes him hard and tight, the way the boy's body feels around his dick right now.

Xander's arm comes up to hold Lindsey's face next to his own as he begins to shudder towards another climax. "Gonna come again," he says in a thick voice, tacit permission for Lindsey to stop holding back.

All he needs to know in those three words and Lindsey lets go. Long stroke of Xander's cock before he lets his own hips roll with the movement, out to the head and in to the hilt, and again, and again. And that's it, off the edge, wordless moan of satisfaction as he pours himself into the boy and feels the wet heat hit them both a second later as Xander joins him this time. They kneel there trembling and panting for a minute that feels like and hour, and Lindsey never wants to move again.

But he does, eases out of the snug place he would like to live inside, falls forward into the pillow and pulls Xander down with him.

As Xander drops, rolls, slides into sleep with Lindsey draped and snuggled onto/into every part him that is available, his mind nudges something he should have thought of a whole lot sooner. Unprotected sex means lots of bad things. Lets that fade away and replaces it with the soft sound of Lindsey breathing into his hair and the quiet burr of the "Good night, Xan" he hears after a few seconds.

=end=

Shameless Part V: No Hope



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