ethrosdemon & Lar ||| Buffy & Angel
by ethrosdemon & Lar
EMAIL: firstname.lastname@example.org =and= HERE
Spoilers: S1 Angel/S4 Buffy. So none, really.
Disclaimer: Our legal counsel advises us that we are entitled to ownership of none of the characters contained herein. And he also says shut up and get on with it.
Summary: Two pretty people, one all male strip club, you do the math.
Dedications: To the Great Snowstorm of 2001. Thanks for the free time that let us play.
Thursday nights are the only night of the week that Lindsey can actually say he leaves his work at the office. Any other time, it's just a matter of moving the papers from his desk to his briefcase to his coffee table and back again in reverse the next day.
But Thursdays he is a free man. Home and showered, jeans and boots and something well worn and soft under his leather jacket, into the truck he drove here from Alabama to LA by way of Stanford Law School, and thank-you-Jesus, out of town for the night. Up the highway, north of LA, until it's smaller and smaller towns in front of him.
Oxnard. Just about a thousand people bigger than the town he grew up in. Not much in the way of a tourist attraction, unless you are looking for a special kind of entertainment on your Thursday evenings. And Lindsey is looking for something special. His hidden vice, so to speak.
Park at the end of the row, away from the door and walk up to the shabby little club. The bouncer eyes him with professional disdain, decides not to ask for ID, and waves him in. The room is already full of people - men of all ages mingling on the floor in front of the stage.
On the stage a tall black man in a fireman's uniform is dancing to the some old worn out song that no one is really listening to.
//The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire//
He heads to the corner bar, his usual spot. Sheltered from the main floor where everyone is groping and making serious and desperate body contact. Unobstructed view of the stage, although that's the least of the reasons for choosing this seat. The dark-haired young man at the end of the bar, however, is the main attraction.
Lindsey has seen him here before. Knows he never mixes with the crowd. Knows he dances during the week in the straight shows. Knows the bartender has alerted him about Lindsey's inquiries because Lindsey never bothered to tell him not to.
Tonight he's sitting on the stool, posture just the slightest bit tense but not over-wound. When Lindsey sits down next to him, he turns and looks, tips his chin and says "Hey." in a non-committal way.
"Hey." Right back at him, and Lindsey watches him turn around and study the crowd with far too much concentration for it to be real interest in what's happening. Scott, the bartender, walks by and cleans the bar on the other side of where the young man leans, and Lindsey knows that's the tip off. He's been ID'd as the guy who was asking "Questions."
"So, what's your name?" Lindsey just takes the bull by the horns, no sense in being coy because they all know what's going to happen here.
"Alexander Lavelle Harris" His nerves showing in the way the words tumble out, as if he had rehearsed them studied them for a test and panicked at the actual question.
Lindsey raises his eyebrow at him. "You go by the whole thing, or can I just call you Alex?"
"Actually, it's Xander."
"I like that. It's unique."
"What about you? Are you just going to be Quiet Guy, or do you have a name?"
"Do you just like to keep things down to first initials? Like in those old novels, Mr M and Mrs H?"
"It's short for Junior, but I shed that with the football jacket and the cheerleaders."
"Yeah, shedding the past is of the good."
"Ignoring is just as good. You wanna drink, Xander?" Pushing back slightly from the bar to let himself seem open to conversation, or whatever else the young guy might be up for.
"I wouldn't say no to a beer." Big smile, he's relaxing now.
"Would you say yes, or just not no?" Grin of his own, and he can hear his accent taking up residence. Canít ever help it when heís drinking or pissed off. They usually happen at the same time.
"I think I might say yes. Yeah, I'm gonna go with yes on that one."
"Bartender, two Carlsburgs."
"Big spender, huh? Usually I just say 'beer'. Are you trying to impress me?"
"No, they told me no Bud on my first go 'round. And, I can afford a few beers. You underage? Am I about to go to jail?"
"Let's just say that working here has its perks. And this is the only one I've found so far."
"The only one?" Looks over his shoulder at the half-dressed man gyrating on stage. "Maybe I should be buying someone else a drink."
And Xander thought he was being all smooth and flirty here, realises, maybe just incredibly retarded, gets flushed and embarrassed. "No, that's not... I was just... I'll shut up now." Grabs the beer and takes a long, long pull on it. Looks over to see Lindsey watching him closely. "OK, so it's not the only perk anymore."
Leaning back against the seat of his chair, Lindsey considers the situation. Younger than he normally goes for. Inexperienced. Nervous. So many factors that could make his life all the more stressed to the hilt and miserable, but quick fucks usually weren't complicated, and he had been dry for a while. Plus, the kid had *something,* not sexy, no something else that made him want to push the hair back from his eyes, stroke the stubble forming around his mouth, lick the crease behind his ear...maybe it had been an arid spell.
Xander watches the way Lindsey's eyes are getting darker, bluer as he sits there not-quite-staring.It isn't the first time he's been approached, but it is the first time heís been talked to, flirted with,
treated as something more than just the closest warm body. There is something about the way this man holds himself - confident without arrogance -that reminds Xander of something...someone ... else. He is as attracted to that as he is to the way Jay's lower lip is full and soft and...
Lindsey looks down at the garish pattern around the hem of the boy's shirt, maybe fuchsia and green paisley swirls were the "in" look. He feels out of the loop, burdened, and ageing by the second as he sits here and watches the boy fidget and sigh in front of him. He knows he can't take him home, too far. He would lay odds on the boy living at home with the folks, too. His easy fuck is starting to take on complexity, and he wonders if that is just the road he is bound to travel for life.
"You wanna 'nother?" Dilated pupils, and easy grin from Xander, and Lindsey motions to the bartender.
As Xander drinks his beer, Lindsey begins to pry, just the slightest bit, delicate questions to try and see where this night might end up. He watches the line of Xander's throat as he tips his head back and
swallows, and decides that even if there's no apartment to end up in, the back of the truck might work out just fine.
"Do you live around here? In Oxnard?" Xander is peeling the label off his latest bottle of beer and watching the half-light flash off the face of Jay's watch. Heavy, steel and or probably titanium, bulky, and somehow obviously expensive in a way Xander can't quite name. Thinks thatís odd, worn flannel, denim and leather matched with a thousand plus dollar watch. Weird guy.
"No, LA actually." Lindsey looks away, glances at the stage where another dancer is down to nothing but a g-string and a sheen of sweat. He's not even vaguely interested, though. Not with Xander sitting here and leaning closer as they talk and practically begging to be taken off and fucked senseless.
"You live with your parents?" He runs his left hand through his hair, and watches Xander's eyes follow it. The watch. A lawyer trick, something shiny and expensive to draw the eye and distract an opponent. It works well with demons, too. Turns a more appraising eye on the boy. No visible scales or horns, and this job really bit him in the ass at the WRONG time.
"How young do you think I am?" Xander blinks once, a little slower than usual, thanks to the beer and the heat and maybe the way he always slows down when he gets hit with the rolling wave of *want* that's currently washing over him. "Wait, don't answer that."
"I wasn't going to."
"Good. No parents. Just me."
"You want to go to the place where your parents aren't?" Swinging 'round so he's facing the boy, knee bumping thigh. Push the wavy, sable hair back from the front of the ear facing him. Can't resist. Compulsion. Wonders if this is Alexander Lavelle Harris's first pick-up. Maybe he's one of those "experimenting" gen-Yers. And that isn't something he cares about, but even the alcohol won't numb his thoughts anymore, so he reaches back out and strokes a finger down the side of the clenched jaw maybe a foot from his face.
Xander just leans into it, thigh rubbing knee, scratch of stubble on Jay's finger as the space between them becomes much less than 12 inches. Xander gets a good up close look at blue, blue eyes// blue like mountain lakes on nature shows, blue like the satin of Faithís bra// and the faint shadow of beard, puts his own finger out to touch that unbelievably pouty looking lower lip. Breathes out his answer so quietly that Lindsey can hear him *under* the crowd.
He's not normally one for PDAs, always been a little inhibited in his own way, a quirk of the bible-thumping up-bringing, shame and taint he still sees lingering in sex and desire, especially when it comes to sex and desire for other men, but he just can't NOT. Whips his head to the right, snatch at Xander's wrist and sucks the questing finger into his mouth. Sees half-lidded eyes drop rapidly closed and tightly drawn mouth slacken to open. He also knows this night is going to be a long one.
The warm, wet suction on his finger creates an amazing electric path right to the root of his cock, and Xander forgets to breathe. It's not until he realizes he's light headed that he takes a shaky gulp of air and opens his eyes to see that Jay looks just as stunned. He licks his lips and resists the urge to ask him to do it again. There's all night for that.
A new song kicks up, a new dancer coming up on stage, and Lindsey slides off his stool languidly. "I think that's our exit music, don't you?" He reaches into his back pocket, pulls out his wallet and throws a couple bills on the bar top.
"Good call." Xander follows him, thinks for a minute of his locker in the back, the things he has in there, and decides that all he needs right now are the keys to his apartment. He slips his hand into his pocket, adjusts himself casually as he makes sure the keys are indeed where he put them, and follows Jay through the club and out the door. Steadfastly ignores the raised eyebrows and smirk on the bouncer's face as they walk past him, and hopes that Jay has parked somewhere far away from the front door so he can exercise a little of his size advantage and shove him against the car. He needs to get a taste of that mouth right *now.*
Lindsey listens to the sound of the rocks under his boots echoing loudly in the parking lot. The sky is overcast, and he can feel the pressure in the air of the gathering thunderstorm. He slows down a little to let Xander catch up with him, turns to watch the boy's movements, and is shocked by the suddenness of metal through denim and cotton on his back. He loses his breath when plum-colored lips meet his and muscle, bone and a wall of lust pins him against the minivan. He lets it happen. He never gets the chance to live in the moment, let someone else take the upper hand now-a-days, he wants to feel the current pick him up and carry him along.
Xander's hands are cupping his face, and instead of the eager clumsy attack he was expecting, Lindsey finds himself being tasted, savored, slow and thorough exploration. Soft lips, warm hands, hard body, and Lindsey is swept up and thrown headlong into thoughtless desire.
He presses his hips forward and yanks Xander against him by wedging his hand into the boy's back pocket, feels the smile twitch on the lips that leave his mouth to travel down his neck. His body is on fire, his stomach clenching and spinning, and this is the need and falling want of youth, something he thought was crushed and bleeding some place far from here. His earlobe is lapped by a dexterous tongue and sucked into a velvet mouth, and he can't keep the sigh inside "Xander."
"I like the way you say that," words whispered, tickling Lindsey's ear with breath, following it up with a nuzzle into the crook of his neck, soft skin and worn cotton smelling of some sharp cologne.
Xander makes a move to drop to his knees, and Lindsey catches his waistband. He glances over his shoulder at the door where three men are stumbling out into the parking lot, hooting and catcalling at the two of them. "I don't think here is the best place."
Turning around, catching the way the trio seem intent on causing trouble, Xander has no choice but to agree. "Right. Car?"
Lindsey leads him down the row of cars to a primer colored behemoth of a pickup truck.
"I don't know, Jay. For some reason I thought you'd be a Dodge man." Xander grins loopily at him and Lindsey feels something sweet and hot roll over in his belly. "Junior? I guess that wasn't a joke."
He lets out a half-laugh, reaches his fingers out to grab the passenger handle, and feels the shorter man press flush against his back, hand riding down his stomach to stop against his fly. "You'd be surprised what this truck has seen."
The taller man puts his hand over the one hovering at his zipper and presses it against him, pushes back, half turning and lets himself feel the same hardness against his hip. . "So surprise me."
One head lunging up, the other down, and the kiss is insatiable on both ends, tongues and teeth and sighs breaking free. Fingers on handle, and door flung open, two bodies falling back against the seat, half lounging, but there has to be a breaking apart, because the truck's high, and a step is needed.
Half panting, trying to get a grip, Lindsey asks, "How far to your apartment?" and prays the answer is less than a mile.
"Three..." Xander gasps out.
"Get in the truck, Xander."
He pushes off, and walks to the other side. The shortest distance is often the longest. Refuses to look through the wind shield at Xander. Needs the twenty second respite to collect himself, roll himself back into the tight ball that is Lindsey MacDonald. Hasn't felt this come undone in so long he can feel anger and fear at the periphery of his mind. Flings open the driver's door, stabs the key in the ignition, and leans into the long, strong fingers threading through his hair. "Which way?"
Has to turn and look when there's no immediate reply, so used to the instant response he gets at work, and gets instead another kiss that makes him floor the gas peddle and flood the engine. Xander breaks off, looks at him seriously. "You flooded it." Cocks his head and says, "We'll have to wait a minute before -"
But Lindsey is on him, slipping across the seat to shove Xander back against the door, one hand hooked in his belt loop, the other tangled in the damp, dark curls. As if he expects Xander to try and escape. As if the boy isn't pressing up into him, groaning at the friction when heat meets hardness. The man on top rolls his hips once, twice, shudders at the sweet sex-need sounds coming from below him. "Think we can wait that long?" he whispers before swooping down and kissing Xander long and deep and rough. Out of control.
The sounds of the three men who had interrupted them earlier are suddenly far too close, and Lindsey freezes, feels Xander tense under him. He lifts his head, sees the group of them wandering up the row of parked cars in the waxy artificial floodlights, apparently completely clueless as to what they actually arrived in tonight. He waits for them to pass, feels Xander breathing under him, takes the moment to calm himself. This is something to be enjoyed, not just a parking lot fuck with some jaded hustler who'd pointedly not-ask for a tip when they finished. He allows himself to grin down into the flushed face, sees the wrinkle of concern smooth out of his forehead. Takes about three seconds to admire the swollen mouth before he brushes his own against it in a teasing, almost kiss.
Lets his mouth brush and plain against the other, nips and light skip of his tongue, and Xander is right there with him, gentling his movements and falling into the new groove that isn't so much like two total strangers whipped into a frenzy anymore, and a whole lot like a first, needy make-out between equals.
He settles his hips, and slides his erection into the groove next to Xander's own and starts a steady thrust he can't stop. A pained gasp, and he leans up to unbutton and unzip the larger man. "Thanks, hurt." Vibrations against his lips as Xander tells him what he already knew.
Lets his hand slip down between them, fingers trailing against the heated length of Xander's cock under the thin, wet cotton of his boxers. Watches his face as he takes the head between finger and thumb and just holds.right.there. The reaction is all he could ask for as Xander gasps and bucks his hips helplessly, mouth open and wet and beautiful.
"Can't wait?" Lindsey whispers to him, Xander whimpers and shakes his head nonono. "Do you want to wait?" and that makes Xander's eyes open.
"Is there something happening here where saying yes is important?" Xander has spent a lot of time around women, most of his life as a matter of fact, and he is open to nuance, he is all about the nuance, and the way that Jay is looking at him, the need and the want he sees in the bottomless blue eyes has a lot more to it than the need to put his tab in a slot.
Lindsey's face has lost the hard lines of self control. Now it's open and softer, somehow gentle as he takes clever fingers and dances them against the bare skin of Xander's belly, exposes more flesh as the shirt is pushed up and up and up until it's bunched under his chin and has his head lowered to taste the whole expanse of it. Licking the dark hair below his navel, trailing up to lap at a nipple that hardens instantly, unexplored erogenous zones being made known.
Xander reaches his right hand out and twines his fingers in Jay's hair, tugs just enough to get his face up into his own. "What about the waiting thing?"
"I didn't know if you'd decided yet." Arched eyebrow over heavy-lidded eyes.
"Do you want to? Wait I mean?"
"If I didn't want to wait, I'd be on the highway headed south by now." Simple truth, Xander feels it, he's not playing at being the romantic here. Whoosh, a sudden dropping sensation, and Xander feels the clutch at his stomach, the Fear. The big one. The what if there isn't anything to wait for? What if tonight is the last night? The last few moments before the end of the world.
"OK, three blocks. Don't flood it this time."
Lindsey slowly slips back to his side of the truck, runs a hand through his hair and watches Xander sit up and try to tuck himself back into jeans that are too tight.
"You don't really have to bother buttoning up" Those unbelievably sexy lips tightening up into a leering grin, and that makes him flush, hot wave from head to toe, realization that he's five minutes away from getting Jay in his room, in his bed, bare flesh and open mouth and hands everywhere they want them to be. And he doesn't want him to know this is the first time this has happened, doesn't want to appear unskilled or inexperienced. Wants to be the normal guy who picks up other guys all the time, but he hasn't really gotten around to that yet.
Lindsey watches him out of the corner of his eye as Xander directs him - left here, left again, end of the street, park there - and sees his nervousness in the way his hands shake as they rest on his thighs. Wonders if this is his first time picking up someone, wonders if this is his first time with another man. And he surprises himself by actually caring about the answer.
"You know, not to belabor the point, but about the waiting thing, we could wait longer than just until we get to the apartment." One last pointed direction, and Lindsey is pulling the truck into a parking place.
"Second thoughts?" Xander looks at him curiously.
"No, just...don't want you to think that you have to do anything here that you don't want to do. I feel like a sleaze enough of the time." Xander can see the other's jaw clench, doesn't press the personal moment.
"Does this feel like I don't want this to happen?" Takes Jay's hand off of the wheel and presses it against himself, lets him feel how hard he still is; holds it in place and bucks once, twice, can't help himself, feels wanton, likes it.
Lindsey leans down abruptly, mouths him through the boxers, tongue tracing a hard line up to the head, then letting the heat of his breath envelop it. Even through the material, it's enough to bring Xander screaming to the edge. "Stop," he groans out, and Lindsey raises his head.
"Stop? Or wait?" He grins, wicked in the dark.
He sees the desire he feels reflected back at him, and knows it's real, not feigned, not pity, just simple want. Grips the back of Jay's head and pushes him back into his lap. Slide of petal-soft fingers on his hips shoving the elastic down just far enough for his cock to bob out, lips, tongue, all of it so fast he can't get a hold of that place where reason and thought are. "Neither, actuallll....ahhhh, yessss!" and he can feel mouth and throat muscles constricting, fingers digging into his hip, and he can't wait for the next part of the night to start.
Shameless Part II: No Pride
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