ethrosdemon & Lar ||| Buffy & Angel

Shameless II: No Pride
by ethrosdemon & Lar

EMAIL: naturallycalm@yahoo.com =and= HERE

Pairing: Xander/Lindsey
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: S1 Angel/S4 Buffy. If you haven't seen those, then whoa Nelly, what are you doing reading about Lindsey?
Disclaimer: We have yet to be served with a cease and desist order, but all the same we do not claim to own either Lindsey or Xander or any cockrings.
Summary: The boys ponder and and then get in some action.
Improv: vice--shelter--wax--alert
Dedications: To the entire Improv list for coddling us. To ourselves for all the sappy, pathetic love we share. Special wave to briar for being a good citizen.

=====

Years of being able to pick up a routine and then go to autopilot have served Xander well. It's not his only vice, but it's a safe one to hang onto. First high school, buzz of classroom noises the soundtrack to his own internal thoughts as he buries his face in the textbook and looks intent. Doodles diligently as if taking notes. Gets ignored by the ones who only look out for troublemakers and obvious slackers. A good way to exist, it works for him and he sticks with it.

Every night at work since Thursday, he's been the Xanderbot, replacing the readin' and writin' with bumping and grinding, practiced smile on his face as he looks out over the women who don't register in his brain at all. He's all about the video rewind and catches himself zoning a little too far once in a while. Not good, not when the boss catches him doing it too and gives him the look that says it could be back to the kitchen and goodbye to the tips.

He finds himself staring in the mirror, flushed with the memory of the way he had gone completely off the deep end. Things he'd said. Things he'd asked for. Things he'd done over and over again.

//First minutes in the apartment, dark room, Jay kicking the door shut behind him and just pressing him against the wall. That full and amazing mouth covering his own, tongue teasing, licking and retreating, light kisses on his throat, up to his ear.

"Xanderrrrr..." purred out in a tone that makes him shudder and grip Jay's arms. Hard roping muscles under the fuzzy worn flannel. Jay grinding his hips into Xander's, rough bump of denim against the bare skin his hands are uncovering, pushing his jeans down his hips until all he can feel is how hot those hands are against him. Then they are tracing the line of hair from his navel to the tight curls at the base, cupping his sac, making him moan again and again.

Harder than he's even been in his life, painfully hard, throbbing with the need to writhe and pump and...//

With a total stranger.

Doesn't know which wigs him out more - leaving with the guy and taking him home //home, where you live, you asshole, you don't know him//... or how much he wants to see him again, to see if it was something. Anything.

He's so far into the fantasy one night on stage as he does the usual thrust and writhe that he gets half way to hard before he can control himself. It was the rhythm he was using, the way it made his hips buck, like it had that night when Jay was on him. In him.

//Later, in the bedroom, naked, finally both skin to skin. Kneeling on the bed, Jay pressed tight behind him. His mouth, oh god his mouth was so soft, so wet and hot, and right there on his neck. Jay's hand across his chest, the other stroking him slow and slow and just perfection, in time to the way his cock slid in the cleft of Xander's ass, not inside, just rubbing, getting him used to it, making him want to open and spread wide and take it inside...//

"HARRIS!"

Xander startles violently, nearly falls off the steps at the side of the stage, sees the manager motioning him over to the dressing room doorway. He ducks his head, threads his way through the press of girls who are doing their best to molest him in their drunken and gleeful lust. It doesn't help the situation at all, and he's still halfway at attention when he gets to Bob.

Tries to look him in the eye and pretend there's nothing going on that shouldn't be. Wills the erection away and is not surprised when it refuses to cooperate.

Bob opens the door, and Xander steps through into the relatively quiet dressing room. He's missing prime tip collections, and knows this is exactly the part of the punishment that works so well with the other dancers when they fuck up. If he's lucky, he'll get a quick lecture and get back out in time to get a few dollars stuffed in his g-string before they close up for the night.

"So Chris tells me you left with some hick the other night."

Not a good start, and who does this guy think he is, his *dad*? "Should I have brought him in to meet you before we had our date?" Doesn't want to be snarky but can't help it. This is invasive and embarrassing and he wants to be yelled at and get it over with.

"OK wiseass. Obviously you've met the dick of your dreams. Fine by me. Just do us all a favor and save the wood for home, OK?" Tosses something to Xander, who catches it instinctively.

At first he thinks it's a condom, it's the same size and he feels the round ring against his palm.

//Sight of Jay unrolling the condom over himself, not looking at what he's doing but watching Xander's reaction. Groans when Jay leans down and spreads his thighs wider, knows he's shaking and can't help it. Need and want and terror and oh, godthat'ssofuckinggood when the first finger slips inside of him. Jay's blue eyes are dark, Xander is hypnotized by the depths. Eager for the next finger that slides in. So patient, so gentle, and he thought that it make him feel stupid because he doesn't know what to do. But he does know, or Jay knows how to make him.

"Right there." Not a question, just a growled statement Jay makes before his fingers slide in a little more and touch *something* - some magic spot that makes Xander gasp and buck up off the bed. Jay is actually biting his lip, and somehow that's just as good as what he's doing with his fingers. Xander realizes Jay is almost crooning to him while he slides in and out and more and more, steady stream of that whiskey rough voice: "Yes, yes, god, baby, right there, I want it to be good, tell me it's good..."//

Looks down at his hand and sees the package contains a black elastic cockring.

"You don't go on stage without it again, got it?" Bob is leaning back against the desk, arms crossed, still doing the uncomfortable dad-like thing.

He feels himself blush, hot and red and is this not *the* most embarrassing moment of his entire life? //Yes, folks, we have a winner, I am now officially mortified// but Bob is saying something else, and he missed it in all his self indulgent internal ass kicking.

"Huh?" he says, winces at the way he knows the manager is going to ream him. Wonders if he'll want a drug test, if he'll think he's doing what some of the others do before the show.

But Bob passes his hands over his face, scrubs it and then drops both hands to his hips. He looks sort of Ozzie Nelson all of a sudden, like he's going to put an arm around Xander and tell him about the importance of lubrication in anal sex, and the proper way to wear a cockring. It would not be the least bit surprising if this indeed occurs. It's been weird like that for Xander since...

"I said do you know how to put the fucking thing on?"

OK, a little too close to what Xander had pictured and he suppresses a grin. "Yeah I know. I think I got it."

"Good. Get dressed. Go home."

"Home? Come on, Bob, let me work the rest of the show. I'll be the perfect gentleman. The perfectly flaccid gentleman, I swear to God."

"No way. You need a cold shower, and this'll teach you to jerk off before you come to work tomorrow." But there's no venom in Bob's reprimand, and Xander didn't really expect to get away with it. And he's not flaccid guy either, so there's nothing to do but go get dressed.

Grabs his clothes from the locker and heads into the dirty little bathroom, tosses the package into the sink while he changes. Strips off the flimsy piece of lycra and can't help but notice how heavy his cock feels. Strokes himself once, presses the length hard against his own belly and sees a single drop of clear fluid peep from the slit.

Wants so badly to have Jay's mouth there again, hot and wet and *knowing* how to make Xander rush right to the edge and linger. Closes his eyes and remembers the truck and resists the urge to stand right here and just lose himself in the memories until he comes all over the floor, imagining his own hand to be Jay's stroking him slow and sure and easy.

Shuddering, Xander turns to the sink and tosses the package over his shoulder. Turns on the cold water and puts his whole head down there, lets it run over his hair and his face and into his open mouth, until he gets a headache from the sharp chill, and he can stand up again. Dries his hair and his face with the scruffy old towel he keeps here. While he's going through the motions of dressing himself, he tries to think of Jay and what he was all about.

Why did he come all the way up here from LA? LA, land of weirdness, and the guy needs to drive to a small town to get a pick up for the night? He's a smart guy, too; kind of rough around the edges but still way more polished than Xander is. His accent comes and goes, Xander noticed that right away. The more they talked, the more they touched, the heavier it got. Like he worked hard to keep it from showing all the other times.

He wishes he knew more about him. What he did, who he *was* and he really wishes most of all that he had been able to somehow thank him for, well, everything.

But Xander had passed out in a state of sexual exhaustion and wasn't surprised that he woke up alone. No note.

And that's cool, or so he tells himself. It was a one time thing. A random pick-up and a fucking amazing time was had by all, thank you very much. They guys will keep riding him about being a slut for another week or so and then someone else will fuck up and they'll have a new target, and life will roll along.

Right? Right.

Only he really *liked* the guy. Felt something like a weird connection of some sort, and maybe that's why he doesn't feel sleazed out about the whole encounter. And why he finds himself hoping that Jay shows again. To see him. He doesn't really expect it - Xander's well versed in not setting himself up too high for the usual disappointments life deals him - but he knows that next Thursday he'll be looking for Jay in the crowd.

=====

"Did you go over the Harmon account? You know, that brief has to be on Leland's desk by five, and the way you've been slacking I don't think it will be there. Hell to pay around…"

"Could you spare me another pun, Lilah?" Lindsey looks up from the stack of papers and the law review open in front of him and has to suppress his homicidal impulses. On a normal day he would be annoyed by her presence, but the fact that she was jerking him out of yet another fantasy involving his newest fixation brought out the urge to smother her with her own Armani jacket. He loathes her, and if he could hire himself for defense, she wouldn't be standing here now. Quicklime, an ax, and a creative alibi, and his life would be so much more pleasant.

"I don't need you looking over my shoulder every five minutes hoping I go down in a blaze. Next time, knock." He doesn't even watch her huff out. Goes back to his dreamscape, all pink lips formed into an 'O' of ecstasy, grunts of contentment, and supple limbs.

He knows this might be the deep end of the pool. It's not the first time he's been in this place wondering why he cares for someone he doesn't know from Adam, treading water and trying not to go any deeper. Knowing his pattern doesn't change the fact that he can't let go of the image of that long neck arched, thick head of black hair thrown back and the long, low moan echoing against the bedroom walls. Or of the admission given some short time before.

//"Am I doing this right?" black hair falling across one eye, face peeking up from between his legs, Lindsey just wants to shove him back down, force his cock back in his mouth and get back to that edge he was just standing on.

"Huh? Yeah. Great, baby, you're doing great…" Sheepish grin, shy and guarded, and Lindsey KNOWS. Should have known from the start. Wishes he could just go back and start this all over again.

Grips his fingers in the boy's hair and tugs just a bit when the move is made to start the rhythm right back up.

Can't look him in the eyes. Too intimate a moment for strangers. Rests his head against the back of the chair.

"Is this the first time you've done this?" Forces the words out, his back tensing up, embarrassed for himself and for the other man as well. And he wanted to not have to ask. Wanted to make this simple and easy, like the rest of his life wasn't. But that just never was him.

"Yes. Is it bad?"//

Keeps replaying that loop over and over. Intersperses it with his own first time with a guy: the back of his daddy's Caddy, maroon velvet upholstery looking like some kind of cat-house, the feel of Claude's mouth on his own after way too many beers and their girlfriends ditchin' them "For people who aren't total losers!", the waxing moon overhead casting the world into long lines and shadows. Couldn't imagine anyone's first time not being like that until Thursday night. And now he knows he was someone else's first. Can't shake it. It should mean something, but what that is, he's not sure.

What he is sure of is the way his cock is aching hearing his boyhood name rolling off Xander's lips again and again in his mind.

Flips the intercom button. "Hold my calls for a while, Jenny, and make sure Lilah Morgan doesn't come in here unannounced."

Wants to pop his pants open and jack off slow and steady to the barrage of Xander images he has going on right now. Knows they have cameras in his office. Considers giving them a show anyway. Moves on to his other, non-sex thoughts of the boy. The kind of thoughts that makes him feel sympathy for the stalkers and panty-sniffers of the world: his elaborately constructed world of Alexander LaVelle Harris.

Sees him with his normal, average family. Ranch house and blue minivan. Dad a school teacher, mom a dentist. Kid sister and maybe a little brother. Football or swim team in high school. Vacations at Disneyland or the Grand Canyon. Part time work during high school at a grocery store or Burger King to pay the insurance on the car his parents bought their oldest son.

He can see it all. Probably has a cheerleader girlfriend at home packing up to go to USC or UCLA wondering where Xander is, and why he hasn't called for weeks. Knows the dancing job is one of those side-lines of youth. It's not the kid's destiny, that was for sure. He was out of place in that environment. Fish out of water, and that was what had attracted him in the first place. He just needed the space to find himself, and that brings Lindsey to the part he is really interested in. What was Xander hoping to find?

Lilah barging in again disrupts his little obsessive interlude, and he wishes he had taken his dick out after all. That's what she'd rather be riding than his ass anyway.

"It's 4:45! Jenny said…." He grabs his briefcase and his notes and zones out the rest.

++++

He considered leaving. He considered not coming at all. He also considered a lobotomy somewhere along the way. Instead, he just keeps sitting here in the dark outside Xander's apartment. All the reasons he shouldn't be here are cataloged and alphabetized by now, and they don't seem to be making a dent in his overwhelming NEED to be right here right now. The itch of compulsion, he's learned to live with it, but sometimes it still gets the better of him.

//One hand fisted in his hair, the other pressing into his lower back so hard he knows there'll be five oval print marks in the morning, owning this minute, this glide of flesh on flesh from lips to toes, this suckling of bruised lips and swollen tongues.

Pulls his face back enough to get a mental imprint of Xander, lips parted, eyes closed, face flushed to shocking pink, and he can't just fall back on his nature as a genuine asshole and take his body where it wants to go. Wants to, but can't.

Brown eyes, gold in the center, staring up at him, curious why the friction of cock on cock and mouth on mouth has ceased. Tick, tick, and the expression is starting to lean toward fear, alert to any mood change Lindsey might be about to throw.

He pulls up a little smile for reassurance, fills his lungs. "We don't have to do anything you aren't comfortable with." Whoosh, and he finally said it. Wills the kid to hurry, speed it up, tell him which kind of getting off there will be so they can get down to it.

"I want you to fuck me." Point of vision averted to somewhere around his nipple, but eye-contact is way more commitment than fucking. And Lindsey isn't interested in commitment here.//

His ass has gone numb from the wrought iron of the railing under him. Feels like he's about to break from the wait when he sees the boy walking up the steps to his door. Lets his eyes travel over the soft curls against the nape of his neck, the veins on his arms catching the light from the neighbor's window.

The low hum is winding its way through his system, and he knows he might fuck Xander into the concrete on the landing in front of him.

Xander's all wrapped up in his thoughts as he strolls up to the door and snatches his keys out of his pocket. He sublimates the urge to glance over his shoulder to the place where Jay's truck had been last night and, instead, concentrates on getting the right key into the lock.

"Xander." Lower, raspy, voice with elongated vowels sounds, and Xander's entire body is ready to fight or get the fuck away.

The keys hit the pavement, and Xander tries to decide if he peed on himself or not when he realizes it's not a vamp that knows him personally. Thinks that's a big no.

Jay standing about two feet to his left, dressed in an unexpected way, and that's not what he should be thinking about, the fact that Jay appeared out of nowhere and might be stalking him, priority. The half-undone tie, tussled hair and open, navy blue jacket shouldn't be making him rock hard. Authority figure fetish. No, please, make that idea go away. But not Jay, he can stay.

The blond man leans down and picks up the keys, hands them to Xander, and without warning pushes him right onto the door, hand in his hair pulling him down into a bottomless kiss that makes Xander's stomach roll over in a lazy, dizzy swirl of lust.

Xander's hands catch in the fine linen/wool blend of the suit jacket, and his mind goes wandering down the path of stalker-serial-killer-psycho until he realizes he's kissing back, pulling Jay in hard against him, and maybe having a stalker wouldn't be that bad if this is what he gets out of it.

Lindsey knows he's not following through with the "quiet chat" plan, and some part of him says to at least wait until they get behind the door into some kind of shelter to shuck the kid out of his clothes and swallow him whole. But the rest of him is busily working on getting all that well-toned, beautiful body bare of clothes and under him, around him, right now. Heat of his skin, taste of his mouth driving Lindsey right off of the path of common sense, and he doesn't give a fuck.

A car rolls down the street, and the headlights flash briefly. It's not a direct strobe on the two of them, but it's enough to make them pause. Xander's hands shake as he relaxes his grip on the lapel of the jacket and lets Jay stroke his hair for a minute.

"Can I come in?" Lindsey asks, quiet and intense, like he half expects the answer to be no and is all set to provide a few dozen reasons why it has to be 'yes.'

As if the way he's still pressed against Xander isn't enough of a reason.

"Yeah, of course." Jangle of keys again as Xander finds the right one and turns to fit it into the lock. Lindsey follows the movements with his own body, deliberate and constant brush of fabric over tense muscles. Nestles himself behind the boy, one arm around his waist to keep him close, inhaling the scent of him. Sees his hand shaking as he tries to work the keys, and puts his own over Xander's to steady it, guide the key in, turn the handle, muscle on muscle from chest to back to arm to arm, and they are both slipping to the mindless place through the incessant contact.

The door opens and they're in, keys ripped out of the lock, black mark on the door from the harsh kick Lindsey deals it to close them in here and lock the night out. The keys hit the floor with a loud jangling clatter that's drowned out by the sounds of their harsh breathing and softer groans.

Lindsey's hands are quick and sure as they strip Xander's clothes away. His motions are echoed as best the other man can, pushing the jacket from his shoulders and tugging the tie all the way loose. They both complicate things by trying not to break apart at all. If the clothes would just dissolve and leave them naked immediately, life would be perfect right now.

Finally, finally, bare skin, and they are stumbling towards the bedroom, expensive suit tangled with old cotton t-shirt in a pile by the front door, all fabric having the same destiny in the heated rush to touch and lick and join.

Lindsey insists on keeping them pressed together, mouth everywhere he can reach on Xander's skin, lapping and nipping, fingers digging into the flesh above his hipbone, leaving the boy moaning at every step as the awkward gait makes their cocks bump and rub together, both already wet with need and want.

Through the bedroom door and when they hit the bed itself, Lindsey turns, pulls Xander towards him, and they fall onto the rumpled piles of sheets and blankets with a grunt, Xander on top. He blinks down at Jay, a little shocked, mostly fuzzy from the adrenaline. Jay's eyes are heavy lidded and the same color as the suit he's left on the floor outside of the room, his mouth is red and almost bruised, wet and open. Xander leans up on his elbows, one hand easing into the tangle of Jay's hair, the other coming up to cup his face so he can run his thumb over the pouting lower lip. It feels like silk, unbearably smooth, and he *has* to lick it. Does just that, leans his head down and lets his tongue lap across it with a slow broad stroke. Travels over to his cheek, open mouth dragging over the rough brush of stubble to his earlobe. Questing tip of tongue in Jay's ear, lick round the rim, then nip to the lobe before sucking it into his mouth until Jay writhes under him.

Narrow hips thrusting up to meet the body held too far away, and Xander grins. Being in control is good.

Hovers his mouth barely off the skin of Jay's ear. "Tell me what you want, Jay. Say it out loud." Fingers at his lower back, and metal chaffing his skin there as Xander's hips are pressed down.

He moves his face back to look at the man under him.

"You can start by calling me Lindsey." One eye-brow raised, and the same corner of his mouth lifted. Chagrin? Xander hasn't ever been able to put that word to a face before now.

Back to his elbows, and that leaves him so right there in J…Lindsey's face that he can feel his breath on his skin.

Realizes he should have used a fake name too. Damn, out smarted again. He'll have to remember that whole thing.

"Lindsey? So, Junior and Jay, that's all part of the pick up thing?" Fingers on his back clenching.

"No, it wasn't a lie. People just call me Lindsey now. I thought, well, I wanted to hear you call me that." And Xander's heart changes rhythm for a few beats, because, really that is sweet and honest, and he is such a sucker and knows it.

"My name is really Alexander Lavelle Harris," he whispers before diving right back in for more of those crushed velvet lips and moans he's making happen.

Lindsey's body just melts, the wrong stress flooding out and leaving room for the sweet strung out tension of Xander's body on his. Letting his fingers trip and slide across the broad back, feeling the bunch and flex of muscle as Xander begins to move, to taste every part of skin bared to him. His face nuzzles into the curve where shoulder meets neck and Lindsey takes the opportunity to hook his leg behind Xander's knee and just hold him there. Heavy press of body covering him everywhere, more of Xander than there is of Lindsey, and he can just disappear right where he is, let himself become a part of the golden in Xander's irises, the freckles on his rounded shoulders, the swell at the small of his back that makes him shiver and close his eyes when Lindsey rubs it just. like. this.

His hand slides higher as Xander moves again, and now the skin is soft though the canvas is wider, spreading from the hips to the middle of his back. Xander's mouth in on Lindsey's chest, wet warm kisses that trail after the path his fingers take as they roam from smooth pale skin to the brown bud of a nipple that hardens and perks under the attention. One then the other, fingers here and mouth there, pinch and lick and suck.

Lindsey's almost forgotten about the way it can be when you discover someone new.

Then it's shoulders and neck under his well manicured hands as Xander slips off the edge of the bed and kneels on the floor, face buried in the pale brown tangle of curls. Looking up with open mouthed lust that makes Lindsey's cock twitch, makes him bite his lip to keep from gasping. He does gasp when Xander leans forward and takes the head of his cock between his lips, lets his tongue move over it and then backs away again. Teasing.

Wraps his hand around Lindsey's cock, holds it there, still and warm, wet and drooling precome on his fist.

"Christ, Xander..." Lindsey writhes in his grip, gets his feet on Xander's shoulders and uses the leverage to push up, back, up, fast and hard, fucking his hand. Hears Xander growling and opens his eyes to an intense stare, so heavy Lindsey can *feel* it burning him.

"Say it again, say my name," he breathes, strokes Lindsey's cock lightly, fist barely closed, just enough pressure to make the other man twitch and do just as he was told.

"Xander, Xander, Xander, Xanderxanderxander..." Almost chanting it as he arches again and again into the rhythm Xander sets until he has to grab the boy's wrist and make him stop, stop right there.

"Stop or wait?" Grins at him, and Lindsey laughs.

"Fair enough," he says before he reaches to pull Xander onto him again, fisting that silken hair with both hands and absolutely devouring the mouth the opens under his assault. Sweet tongue tangled with his own and Lindsey is in a state of pure bliss.

Drags his mouth from Xander's and breathes into his ear. "Do you want to fuck me tonight?"

Xander nearly comes on the spot. The press of Lindsey's hips against his, the voice in his ear, the thought of being inside of him, all too much to process at once. Terrifying in its power. He tenses, tries to control himself and can't. Groans out a strangled, "Yeah, I do. I want. I want to."

"Say it." Lindsey licks his earlobe, bites down, nuzzles into his ear. "Say 'I want to fuck you, Lindsey.'"

Xander grabs his face, presses his own down so they're forehead to forehead, nose to nose, features all blurred and out of focus. But his eyes are open when he says, "I want to fuck you, Lindsey." Shuddering deep breath, and again, "I want to fuck you. Lindsey." Kisses him slow and sweet, tongue licking the roof of his mouth, thoroughly and completely tasting him. "Lindsey." Whispers his name.

=====

Lindsey flips his wrist around so that his watch faces him. The luminescent face tells him it is far too late, and he is far too far from home. He sits up, and tries not to wake Xander.

"Leavin'?" He glances back over his shoulder and sees Xander taking in the situation.

"Yeah, I gotta be at work at 7." Xander rolls over on his side and follows Lindsey's movements as he rises and starts to head to the other room.

"Right, one of those grown-up, morning type jobs. Porpoise trainer?" And Lindsey has to laugh at that. Brings his rumpled, wrinkled, mangled clothes back into the bedroom and starts to get dressed.

"I gave all that up. Now I'm just a lawyer." Is not so shocked to see that Xander is shocked as hell. Not the first time he's seen that reaction. People always think he's in the rodeo for some reason.

"A lawyer? Ok, impressed over here." Huge smile, and Lindsey is glad Xander isn't secretly on the lam and scared of the law. Didn't want to have to go through that again.

He drags his battered wallet out of the inside pocket of his jacket and walks over to sit next to Xander on the bed. "Here." He hands the boy one of his cards, the ones with his home, cell, and work number on them. Hands him a pen and a second card and lifts his eye-brows.

"Wow. We're doing numbers. So, next time you're gonna call before you come by?" Looks down at the card and knows the paper is the best, the printing company expensive and the address all the more so.

"Will I be interrupting something if I don't?" And he never meant to sound jealous, but he thinks he might have.

"Right, I think we talked about all that before. I was just thinking of my cardiac health." Took the proffered pen and tried to remember his phone number again.

"Gonna give me a fake?" Lindsey is starting to look uneasy, and Xander thinks he might be high-maintenance guy. At least he's well trained to deal with that.

"Since you know where I live, that's not such a brilliant plan is it?" Lindsey relaxes in to self-effacing smile and shrugs. "No, I was trying to remember the area code here. I can't ever remember it."

"You aren't FROM Oxnard?" Surprised by that. His whole Xander-world might be wrong.

"No, from a little town you never heard of. Sunnydale." He hands Lindsey back the card with his number on the back and leans up to get in some more contact before the other man walks out.

"You're right, I haven't." Meets Xander's mouth half-way and tries to memorize every sensation to hold onto until next time.

=end=

Shameless Part III: No Chance



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