Bordello

***

“Strawberries?”

“No thanks. I’ve had enough. Doritos?”

“Um…yes please.” Andrew accepted the bowl Xander passed him and popped a chip in his mouth. He followed it with a swig from the nearly-empty champagne bottle.

Xander sat straight up under the crumpled bedspread. “So, who’s up for charging the door?”

“I thought we decided that it was a big ‘no-no’ on the charging?” Andrew whispered loudly.

Xander answered with his own whispered shout. “No, we said it was ‘no’ on the faking a seizure and knocking out the guards.”

“ 'cause that only works in the movies.”

“Right, and we decided that seducing the guards might work if there were any gu to to seduce and if it weren’t, you know, counterproductive to our problem.”

“And we couldn’t danyoanyone because we have no drugs—“

“And no one to give the drugs to if we had them, so…I ask again, who’s up for charging the door?”

Andrew raised his had like he used to in Mr. Linet’s trig class. Mr. Linet...he had thick glasses that made his eyes look like he was teaching through a fishbowl. That’s why Warren had started calling him Mr. Limpet. Ha. Don Knotts. Funny guy. Hum…yeah…funny….

“I think I’m drunk, Xandre,” he slurred.

“Xandre? What am I, French?”
AN-DAN-DER. Geez. So sensitive. You’re worse than Anya. I mean you call her Anyanka once and you never live…it...” He took another swig from his bottle.

Xander felt the tears rise, unbidden. “Yeah…” He sniffed, grateful for the near-dark conditions. “….don’t worry. I did it myself a couple of times and she can-could get pretty feisty about it.”

They sat, silently drifting in their own thoughts.

“I’m sorry, Xander.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save her.”

Andrew’s words hit him like a powerful fist and Xander struggled to find the right thing to say. He was breathing through his mouth now, willing the tears to go back to the cold, hard place that he’d locked them away months before.

“It wasn’t—it wasn’t your job to save her. It was your job to save the world. And as far as I’m concerned, you did that.” He took another drink from the tumbler that hung loosely in his hand.

“That’s sweet, Xander. A load of crap, but sweet.”

“It’s not crap.”

“Yeah, well…”

“ ‘Yeah, well…’ what? I don’t just hand out compliments willy-nilly, Andrew. She liked you. She respected you. What can I say? She was a horrible judge of character.” Andrew looked quickly at him and Xander amended his statement. “Usually.”

The blond boy smiled. “Most people didn’t ‘get’ her, did they?”

“No, but most people are idiots. They don’t see things right in front of them. But not Anya. She ‘got’ people. She ‘got’ you. Go figure.”

“I-I found her coat the other day,” Andrew admitted with great effort, as if it were an enormous burden he had been carrying for years. “I think she gave it to Becky or one of the eastern European slayers and they just left it-left it hanging in a closet for months after... Didn’t even wear it. Isn’t that sad? It’s like, the only thing left of her is hidden in this musty closet that no one can look at. No one will see how amazing she was. Or, uh, I guess how amazing her…coat was.” He cocked his head, trying to straighten the analogy in his head. “You know, Xander, I think, she was the only friend I had that didn’t want anything from me in return. No chem homework, no money, no demon assassins. She just treated me like a person. I haven’t been treated that way since…well…a long time.” Great crocodile tears began falling from Andrew’s eyes. They pooled at his chin and dripped lazily onto his lap.

“Hey there. Come on. We treat you like a person over at Slayer Incorporated. I mean, we’re drowning in estrogen over there, but…”

“It should have been me.”

“No.”

“I was ready for it to be me. It was fair.”

“NO!”

“Yes, Xander, and you know it!”

Andrew’s tears had stopped for the moment to be replaced with a drunken, irrational fury that shook his small frame. Xander licked his lips, trying to compose himself.

“Look, I don’t know what you think I know that you know…Dammit! I’ve had too much to drink and can’t form a clear sentence, but I can form a clear thought and right now, I know that she was supposed to die that day and you were supposed to live.”

“No.”

“Yes. If for no other reason than because I never would have made it past that guy with the key if you hadn’t been here. I wouldn’t have been able to talk to the Elonian. Hell, I wouldn’t have even made it through the front door. I’d still be standing on the porch wondering where the doorknob was.” He had no idea why it was so important right then to convince the boy of his own self-worth, especially when Xander himself had contributed to more than a little Andrew-bashing on his own, but something told him that he should.

“That’s three reasons.”

“See?” Xander smiled. Andrew just looked sad. “See?” he repeated and nudged him with his shoulder.

“And look where that got you.” Andrew was breathing heavily through his mouth. “I’m so miserable.” He confessed. “So damn miserable I can hardly breathe, Xander. It’s like-it’s like every day is just an effort to make it through to the next one.”

Xander snorted bitterly. “Welcome to my world, Andrew. It’s a dark, bleak, place but sometimes, there are Twinkies and mental games of Pin-The-Tail-On-Rona.”

Finally, a smile that dissolved into a laugh. Comparing Andrew’s smile to the sun coming out from behind the clouds was stupid and trite and yet Xander could think of no better metaphor. And see, that was the thing about metaphors. They were tricky. They made you wax poetic and feel mushy. They skewed your vision until all you saw were puppy dogs and rainbows. He entirely blamed his cheesy metaphor for the unthinkable thing he did next. Xander slipped his left hand against a wet cheek and, leaning forward, pressed his lips against Andrew’s. It wasn’t a long kiss. It wasn’t even particularly romantic, but when it was done, Xander found himself strangely breathless. He sat staringoughough the dimness at the other young man for what felt like hours but what waobabobably, okay, he’d had a lot to drink so maybe it was hours. Finally, Andrew spoke.

“You kissed me.”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“It seemed like the thing to do?” He looked down at his kneecaps. Fascinating thing, knees…

“Um-hum…Well, it was...nice.”

“Good. It was…nice for me, too.”

God he was lame! ‘nice for me, too?’ Was he thirteen? “And where did this sudden thundering in my chest come from? Do you see a heard of rhinos nearby?” Was what he wanted to ask, but didn’t. It was nothing like kissing Anya. A whole lot of nothing. Wait, not ‘nothing’ like zilch, zero, zip. There was definitely ‘something’ but a something he didn’t usually feel. Augh! Now he was babbling to himself. Scotch! That’s it. Must be the scotch. Alcohol. Don’t let friends drive drunk. Or attempt to give therapy sessions drunk. It could only lead to strange and bizarre acts like turning into a cavewoman, or wearing a lampshade on your head, or kissing Andrew… or letting Andrew kiss you…oh god…

Andrew was leaning toward him. This was it. Xander knew this was the time to put an end to things. To tell the Dungeon Master that he had had way too much to drink and they should be thinking of ways to get out of this mess instead of huddling under the covers stealing forbidden smoochies. It wasn’t Andrew’s fault, after all. Xander was quite good at finding the most inappropriate time to kise moe most inappropriate people. Willow? Cordelia? Faith? Any time now he should tell him to stop…any time now…yet he couldn’t bring himself to move and when their lips met for a second time, Xander couldn’t help noticing how his lips were soft and warm and tasted sweetly of champagne and salty tears. He held perfectly still, unsure of what to do. Finally, he pulled away.

“I can’t. I mean I shouldn’t.”

Andrew was breathing heavily now, too. “Shouldn’t what?”

“Shouldn’t…um…” Damn. He had no idea what was going on. He tried to clear his head. This was weird. Definitely weird. He wasn’t gay. He’d had sex. With women. Lots of women. Okay, two, but hey, end of the world. It wasn’t really conducive to picking up chicks. “The world’s gonna’ end. Let’s have sex.” Oh, wait. That might have worked. Damn. Always a day late and a dollar short and he was being kissed again…

Xander was dimly aware that Doritos were probably not the best choice for pre-makeout snacking, but he didn’t spend a long time thinking about it. Um…lips. Lips and teeth…teeth biting at his lower lip and…oh!…that was nice…His head was swimming and a surprising heat was building in his groin. Hummm…thank you scotch….happy elixir of love…and hey, it wasn’t like Giles was hearing any of this, since they…um…lost their wires hours ago…and…umm….hands tugging at his hair and…he couldn’t keep kneeling here like a dork…there were…woah, that was nice…things for him…to do…Oh! Biting on the ears…that was…ummmm…nice…very nice…damn, Xander, use a synonym…But there was nothing he could think of. The mouth on his neck was so…so…

Okay, he was definitely going to have to either stop or chip in at some point. He gulped and took a deep breath of stale air. The fabric of the bedcover was pulling against his hair and he was almost uncomfortably hot but he found himself helpless to stop. Raising both hands to Andrew’s face, he pulled his mouth to his and began placing nervous kisses over his lips. Before long, a tongue snaked out and licked tentatively at his. He didn’t resist and Andrew pressed his m mor more firmly on Xander’s, letting his tongue explore.

Sweaty hands were pulling at his shirt and then running softly over his exposed belly. Palms explored his chest and then pinched lightly at his nipples. Xander moaned softly and leaned in further. Hands were sliding up his chest and under his arms and then working his shirt-trying to get it off. He found himself raising his arms over his head, pressing against the thin satin sheet that still domed over them. As Andrew pullt ovt over his head, Xander’s shirt caught briefly over his ears. He suddenly remembered his mom pulling off his Incredible Hulk t-shirt when he was seven, demanding that it be washed because six days in a row was just too long to wear the same shirt. Surprisingly comforting memory. And then the shirt was gone and he was shivering even though it was warm and stuffy under the sheet. Then, a tongue lapping at his nipple; suckling and biting and –ohgod!

He ran his hands through shaggy blond waves and pulled hard. Xander felt a moan at his chest and a tongue trailing across to his other nipple. He ran his hands down the back of Andrew’s neck, across the expanse of his thin back-plucking at the t-shirt that covered it. It was moving easily under his hand, up the body crouching below him. Tongue moving back reluctantly and the shirt was being pulled over blond hair and their mouths found each other again. Desperate now, kissing with abandon, the two young men clung fiercely to each other, bruising their mouths and leaving small, red indentations on fair skin where fingertips were clenching. Afraid to let go but desperate for more, Xander ran his hands across a smooth chest and down to Andrew’s belly.

Xander felt the tiny cube of pain he’d been carrying for months start to melt a little. Too much pain. Too much loss. More than one person should ever have to endure. For the first time, Xander wondered about Andrew’s loss. He knew it couldn’t be as deep as his. As profound as his. That’s why he’d told Giles that he wouldn’t take him, wasn’t it? If he was honest? Andrew hadn’t “earned” it. Hadn’t earned Xander's respect with twenty-two years of pain and sacrifice and missed chances. “You feel ignored? Try going to bed when you’re nine without your pajama bottoms ‘cause the belt actually left blisters this time. Trouble with girls? Try losing your virginity anmostmost your life on the same night. So ya wanna’ be a god? Watch one up close as she reins death and destruction on you and the ones you love. Your best friend died? Been there, done that, got the souvenir gift mug. When you’ve lost your best friends, their moms, their lovers, classmates and co-workers, fiancées and friends, then you talk to me about loss. Talk to me about pain when you’re wearing an eych, ch, desperate to scratch a phantom itch in a place that doesn’t exist anymore. Then, THEN maybe I’ll call you worthy.” But that was dissolving. It was dissolving and Xander couldn’t stop it. Didn’t want to stop it.

Andrew pulled back, eyes confused, watching tears seep quietly down Xander’s cheeks. He didn’t hesitate and began licking softly at the trickling path, working his way down his face. With a small sob that sounded pitiful even to his own ears, Xander let him continue his ministratioAndrAndrew kissed his way to the edge of his jaw and then down his throat. Across his chest and down his belly, then he felt confident hands working on his jeans and he didn’t care. Damn, he didn’t care. Because when you have an itch, you scratch it, when someone offers you money, you take it, and when you’re hurting and horny, you take whatever pleasure you get and hopefully give some, too. That made him think of his first time with Anya and he had to smile. Smile or cry. He hadn’t decided yet and—oh! Ohholyheck! Hands sliding under the waistband of his jeans and boxers simultaneously. Clenching his ass and pressing kisses against the fabric covering his thighs. He strained to see in the dwindling light. It was getting late and the sun was setting through the tiny window they had earlier deemed too small to crawl through. Xander could see soft hair and a smooth expanse of white skin. His knees were becoming sore from kneeling but he didn’t want to move for fear Andrew would stop. Stop doing what Xander hadn’t realized he so desperately needed.

It didn’t matter, though, because Andrew sat up, then. The sheet pulled at his hair and made it stand up comically. Xander smiled. Andrew smiled, too. Then he grasped Xander’s face and kissed him gently, turning him and pushing him so he was lying correctly against the small mountain of pillows. Andrew dove deeper under the covers and Xander giggled as he touched a ticklish spot.

What. Was. He. Doing? This was Andrew. He heard rustling and sensed Andrew taking off his pants and socks, shoving them of the edge of the bed to plop on the room’s plush carpet. Xander’s pants were coming off now, too, and he remembered that ‘80s movie where Lauren Hutton was a vamp and took off Jim Carrey’s pants and then bit him on the thigh, except Andrew wasn’t a vampire and the only vampires he knew were in LA or—dead. Dead. Well, always dead, but…deader? His chest was burning. Spike. Just the one word. He didn’t even like the guy. Heck, he hated the guy most of the time and yet his loss left another cold burning spot in his chest. Dry ice. That’s what he was made of. So cold he was hot. Xander was choking, burning and—oh….engulfed in pleasure. Small warm mouth on his dick, licking at the leaking tip like a lollipop. Big Xanderpop. That’s what he was. He giggled. Damn scotch. Damn cheesy metaphors. Damn fine mouth you got there, Andrew. How come I didn’t know this about you before? His thoughts were completely jumbled and he didn’t mind. Xander was panting heavily now and could hear shallow breaths just below him as well.

Their musical benefactor had little originality with it’s playlist and Wicked Game came to a close as Can’t Get Enough Of Your Love Babe began for what felt like-and probably was-the 25th time. Andrew took a deep breath and then Xander’s cock was engulfed to the root. Jesusmaryandjoseph! He moaned and arched up, clutching desperately at the thin satin sheet that threatened to slip down and betray their pleasure. Blunt teeth working up and down him, slim fingers kneading his balls and waves of pleasure-oh, geez it felt good-echoed through his body. He wanted it to go on and on but he knew it couldn’t. He grabbed at the headboard-no easy feat over the pillows. He was coming close. He wanted to say something, to shout a warning, but the hands were slipping behind his balls, stroking his sensitive skin and teasing gently at—

“—OhgodAndrew!” The intensity of his orgasm took him by surprise. It rolled over him in waves as he came and came…

Andrew began suckling his cock, licking it clean, and for a few fleeting moments, he wondered if Andrew would care to know that that was something Anya refused to do, even after three years. Sweas sts standing out across his body and he panted noisily, unable to move. He took several deep gulps of cool air before he realized the sheet had slipped free and he was exposed.

“Aw, fuck it,” he thought. It was probably the alcohol talking but if the Mistress wanted a free show, he would put on a good one. Xander became aware of Andrew still kneeling between his legs but could not find the energy to sit up. He flapped his hand at the younger man, gesturing for him to join him on the pillows. Andrew obliged and Xander watched as he crawled toward the head of the bed. Instead of settling back against the pillows as Xander hand done, he lay his head on Xander’s chest, curling his small frame up to Xander’s large one. Big blue eyes stared at him, waiting for him to object, to push him to the other side. “This is my side, this is your side.” Like he and Willow had done with their treehouse in the fifth grade in their one and only fight about a boy-Jesse. He’d just moved to Sunnydale and they both wanted to be his friend. Eleven hours and two Hostess Snowballs later, they had agreed to share him.

Xander tucked his arm around the blond boy and pulled him tightly to his chest. His arms seemed to be the only things working at the moment so it was just as well. They lay like that, in companionable silence, for several minutes. Xander was ready to drift off when Andrew shifted next to him, trying to find a more comfortable position. Xander felt something hard pressing against his hip. It took him a minute to figure out what it was, but when he did his cheeks reddened in shame.

“Andrew, you haven’t—“

“It’s okay. I’m good.”

“No, you’ve got a boner the size of Tulsa. That’s not good. Well, it is good—“ Xander grinned devily, “y, “—but not if you don’t do anything about it.”

Andrew looked shyly at Xander then turned his head back to the warm chest he was laying against. “I like this. This is good.” Andrew pulled a Miss Kitty Fantastico and nuzzled deeper into Xander’s chest.

Xander was confused. Sure, he might not have any idea what he was doing. He was probably going to regret this in the morning and he might not have been the person most skilled in the ‘love that dare not speak its name’, but even he could tell a come-on when it was offered.

Time for more aggressive action. Xander swallowed nervously and reached over to the cart that still stood near the bed. He had to pull away from Andrew to reach the bottom shelf but returned triumphant with the box of condoms and the tube of lube. Andrew smiled with resignation and rolled to his belly, drawing his knees up and arcing his back. He turned his face away from Xander.

“Um…Andrew?”

“Yeah?”

“Where are you?”

“ ‘m right here,” He mumbled.

“See, your body is right there, but I feel like maybe you are nowhere to be found. Am I wrong?”

Andrew turned his head, confused. “That’s what you want, right? That’s what comes next. I mean, that’s what usually comes next?”

“Well, I wouldn’t know anything about ‘usually’ since I’ve never done this before.”

“Right, I…Right. Geez. Sorry. I didn’t…I mean…I’m not use…”
…”

Andrew slid flat on the bed and closed his eyes, breathing through his mouth. Xander joined him and stared at the pinched face until the blue eyes finally opened. He lay staring for several minutes before he spoke.

“Andrew, how many times have you done this?”

He shrugged and began playing with a small thread that was sticking out of the smooth sheet.

“Did you and Jonathan—“

“Jonathan was straight.”

The statement was simple. Three words. Yet it carried a moun of of meaning that Xander was just beginning to understand.

“But Warren…”

“Could we please not talk about this now?”

“You and Warren…?”

“Yes, okay? Yes, I had sex with him. Yes, I let him have sex with me. Yes, sometimes he hurt me and he made me do things that would make my mother cry, okay? I don’t want to talk about it. I think about it all the time, I don’t want to talk about it, too. Every time I do, someone dies.”

Understanding, dark and painful, continued to unfold.

“…Anya…”

“Anya’s dead! I told her and she’s dead and I know the two things are totally not associated, okay? I know that. I know it, but it doesn’t matter. So please don’t make me talk about it. Besides, it’s over now.”

Andrew pinched his eyes together firmly but when they finally opened, Xander was still watching him quietly.

Thankfully, Andrew let him.

***

“We want to see the Mistress,” Giles demanded roughly. The tip of his crossbow was a mere six inches from the slimy demon’s face

Buffy widened her stance, preparing for a fight. The demon responded but she could not understand what he was saying. “Tell him we want to talk to Xander,” she commanded, shifting her grip on the broadsword she had carried across the thresholds of The House. The demon was still talking and Giles appeared to understand, though his brow was crinkled with confusion. Finished, the demon clasped his hands behind his back in a military position the humans associated with being ‘at ease.’ Giles turned to the slayer, obviously flustered.

“He says that we need a key.”

“Tell him we had a key and we gave it to our friend.”

“I did tell him that. He didn’t seem to care.”

“Well, tell him that we want to talk to his supervisor.”

“This isn’t the Doublemeat Palace, Buffy. We’re not sending back a cold burger.”

“Giles, we haven’t heard from them in hours. This guy has information. Right now you should be all Mr. Concerned.”

“Of course I am concerned, Buffy, but I’m not going to ‘pick a fight’ with this very large…” The demon was staring intently at them during their conversation. “…gentlemen. We discussed that.”

“We can’t just stand here all day.”

“Well what exactly do you suggest we do?” Giles snapped irritably.

“I don’t know….maybe…make a run for it!” Buffy yelped, hoping the element of surprise would work to her advantage. She began running down the nearest hallway with Giles in tow…

***

The last rays of the setting sun were gone and the room had grown dark. Xander had begun to doze off when Andrew finally spoke.

“I loved him.”

“Warren?”

“No.”

“Jonathan.”

“Yeah…I told him what was going on, too. I mean, he knew about Warren’s temper and all, but… He protected me for a long time. Maybe he was an enabler ‘cause we didn’t leave, even after Warren lost it, but I didn’t care. He-he used to let me crawl in his bed after Warren left some nights. Nights when Warren was gone, when he’d hit me or…Jonathan could sing-did you know that? And he—he was nice. Tea Tears again. Softer this time. Old tears. Old pain.

“You loved him.”

“Yes.”

“You were in love with him.”

A soft intake of air. “Maybe.”

“But…”

“…but Jonathan was straight.”

Xander waited. Somehow, he knew what would come next.

“I killed him.”

“Yeah.”

“Warren was gone. I was free. And when I saw him again, it was so easy. So easy to slip into the old way. The old roles.”

Xander sat up.

“But don’t you see? That’s why he appeared as Warren, Andrew. He knew how it would effect you.”

“—But I didn’t know. It was only a few weeks and I in tin the same place, Xander!” His voice was rising. Xander knew there was more and he willed Andrew to keep going. Andrew took a deep breath. “It will keep happening. He’ll find me again.”

“No.”

“He will. And I’ll be weak. Weak like before. I killed him, Xander. Warren wanted me to and The First wanted me to and I did it. I didn’t even hesitate. No questions asked. He’ll come back and Jonathan won’t be there to protect me because Jonathan is dead and I killed him…”

Andrew’s thoughts were chaotic, his words poured out like Confusion Soup and it was all Xander could do to keep it straight but he did. Pulling the smaller body to his chest, he stroked the wild tufts of hair and whispered soothing words.

“Warren is gone.”

“He—“

“The First is gone.”

“What if he—“

“Then you tell him to fuck off because you aren’t that guy anymore. You’re Andrew. You faced an apocalypse. You help run a Slayer Training Camp. You’ve seen Buffy at six a.m. with no makeup and lived to tell about it!” Andrew chuckled against his shoulder and Xander continued to stroke the soft hair. “See? You tell him…you tell him to talk to Buffy first. Tell him to talk to Giles or one of the slayers…” Xander sighed. Too much pain for one person to bear alone. God how he knew fee feeling. “You tell him to talk to me, first.”

Over and over he stroked his hair, his back, his face. Was this what Giles meant when he said he thought Xander and Andrew should spend time together? Xander chuckled at the thought. “Please, Xander. Just sleep with the boy. I know it will do you both a world of good.” Andrew ld atd at him, confused, and Xander related his absurd thought.

“Mr. Giles would never say that,” he laughed and wriggled closer.

“It’s so cute the way you call him Mr. Giles—“ Xander said, then stopped suddenly, caught off guard by the sudden rush of tenderness and genuine affection that washed over. Oh. Ohgodohgodohgod. He wasn't gay. Was not. Was he? Okay, so part of the tree-house jealousy had been due, in some small part, to what he perceived might have been a slight crush on Jesse, but that’s normal! Right? I mean, that wasn’t the only time he’d been jealous. He was jealous of Buffy lots of times-ug! Of Angel, of Angel and Buffy. Jealous of Angel. Yeah, that’s what he meant. Yeah…damn. Who was he kidding? Obviously not Ethan Rayne, that’s for sure.

“ ‘Unique stature’ my ass!” he fumed with sudden enlightenment.

“Um, Xander? What are you talking about?” He realized his inner monologue had been running for about five minutes. Decision time.

“I said…” He rolled them to their side so they were facing each other on the bed. He pressed soft kisses to the willing mouth, then firmer ones as they were received greedily. “I said…I want you to fuck me up the ass,” he whispered crudely. Crude, he wasn’t used to. Sweet, plaintive begging was more his style, but it had the desired effect. Andrew’s eyes widened and Xander watched as they dilated with desire. The boy gulped nervously and stretched over Xander to claim a condom. He began to roll the larger boy over but Xander protested quietly. “I want to see you.” He had only a dim knowledge of how this worked, but he knew it was better if Andrew wasn’t thinking of Wa for for even a moment.

“It’s harder this way, I think…”

“Hum…not hard enough…yet.” Xander began stroking Andrew’s semi-erect penis with slow, languid strokes. Their protective satin sheet had long since been abandoned. Xander lay back and drew Andrew up over his body until he was kneeling with his legs spread over Xander’s face. With a smile, Xander took the hardening member into his mouth. He suckled the head and stroked the shaft until he felt it was sufficiently hard. Grasping the slender hips, he pulled him deep into his mouth, choking a little at the new sensation. Andrew looked concerned and struggled to pull back, but found himself held firmly, pulled forward again and again. Andrew caught the rhythm and before long, Xander’s mind was spinning.

“Fucking my mouth. Andrew is fucking my mouth and I’m very much enjoying it.” Xander watched as the young man rocked slowly, thrusting, then pulling back. His hands clasped over Xander’s and he closed his eyes, smiling with pleasure.

Soon, he slipped free from Xander and began preparing him. Andrew was watching him calmly now and Xander was pleased to note that he didn’t appear worried at all. He simply pushed Xander's feet until they pressed flat against the bed, and reached for a condom and the lube. He rolled the condom on and then, before opening the lube, leaned between Xander’s legs and kissed him tentatively. He moved away and nuzzled his face in Xander’s neck before finally pulling back and opening the tube. Xander watched as he dispensed a generous portion onto his hand. He coated them thoroughly before looking at his friend.

“It’s okay.” Xander whispered and the young man lay his cheek against Xander’s knee. He lowered his eyes and began stroking him with soft lazy strokes. Oh yes. Xander could get used to this. Andworkworked his way gently across Xander’s balls, kneading each one before slipping his hand across the sensitive perineum. A small moan escaped Xander’s lips and, encouraged, Andrew added more lube to his fingers. He pressed timidly at the opening, allowing one finger to breach the entrance.

“Yessss.” It came out something like a hiss and Xander found himself pushing down against the hand involuntarily. Andrew began moving his finger slowly, and Xander moved with the thrusts. Soon, the slow, shallow rhythm was not enough.

“More…please,” he begged. Andrew added a second finger and began the steady thrusts again. There was more lube and soft words. They were quiet at first and Xander could hardly hear them but they got louder.

“…so beautiful…”

“…strong…gorgeous…”

Xander’s smiled at the endearments. He was ready to share a few of his own when Andrew began to scissor his fingers slightly and—

“HolyHannah!”

What had he done? What angel in disguise had he helped to warrant this-ohgod-pleasure? Andrew was stroking it now with each thrust. He added a third finger and Xander winced as he began to work them. When he felt himself relax finally, the pain eased up and it was only that glorious spot being teased again and again and then the fingers were pulled out and he was empty. When his eye could again focus, he watched as Andrew squirted another generous dollop of lube onto his hand. He sat up on his knees and began to coat his dick with smooth, practiced strokes. That spot-that magic spot-had been amazing, but watching Andrew stroke himself wantonly only a few feet away was almost enough to tip Xander over the edge. He watched as Andrew’s head fell back while he coated it, adding another squirt for good measure.

“Are you sure you have enough there, Andrew? After the great Lube Shortage of 1912, they say you should—“

“Shut up, Xander.” Andrew grinned and slapped lightly at his ass with gooey hands.

Prepared, Xander watched as Andrew, knelt and lifted his legs until they pressed on either side of his own slim hips. His erection strained at Xander’s opening. Andrew’s eyes met his and he nodded, desperate to be filled again. Andrew nodded back and pushed forward.

Xander cried out as his entrance was breached.

“Sorry…,” Andrew gasped and started to withdraw. Xander grasped the free hand resting near his own and yanked the boy forward as he thrust his hips up and into him. The pain was incredible, even prepared, but the shudder of pleasure that washed over the other young man’s face more than made up for it. They waited.

“Okay…ready.”

“Are you sure? I’ve never done, you know, this part before. I don’t want to hurt you…”

“Please…,” Xander panted with need. “Please just fuck mee wae was aware that he was begging. Begging Andrew of all people, but he didn’t care. Mercifully, Andrew obliged and he began thrusting carefully against him.

Eventually, the strokes became more urgent and then Andrew found that spot. White-hot joy…liquid heat spiraling through his body. Exquisite pleasure and…he grabbed at the sheets, trying to find traction but Andrew was thrusting harder now and faster.

Xander began to slide on the slick bedding. He knew that if he could see himself, he’d have to laugh because, hey, leave it to Xander Harris to try anal sex for the first time on The Worlds Most Slippery Sheets. Recognizing the predicament, Andrew pressed Xander’s legs back to his chest and he found himself traveling the length of the bed and then being rammed up against expensive blue pillows and one very hard headboard. Xander made a mental note to congratulate Andrew on the surprisingly forceful and inventive maneuver. Sweat stood out on the blond man’s forehead. Xander used one hand to clutch at the headboard for dear life. With the other, he tried to grab his own neglected cock. Andrew got there first. Xander covered the smaller hand with his and and together they stroked while Andrew continued to fuck him. Xander watched as the smaller man moaned with delight. Two more strokes and then Xander was coming for the second time that night. Andrew continued to thrust until he, too, was coming. Eyes wide and wet, he cried out at his release. Xander lay prone on the bed, exhausted and sated…

***

It was difficult for Giles to keep up with Buffy until they rounded the third corner. There they found themselves face to face with an enormous demon. ten feet tall, it positively loomed above Giles and Buffy. The Watcher gasped audibly, but Buffy was unimpressed.

“What are you doing here?” The demon inquired.

“We’re looking for our friends,” Buffy challenged, making eye contact. Or what she hoped was eye contact. His eyes were pretty far up there…

“I cannot help you. Only the Mistress can help you.”

“Then we want to see the Mistress,” Giles demanded.

“No one sees the Mistress without chec wit with me first.”

“Okay, well…here we are…check us!” Buffy ordered.

“Remove your clothing.”.

“What?”

“Remove your clothing or I will contact the guard you attempted to evade at the door.”

“ ‘Attempted’ to evade? I thought we did a pretty good job,” Buffy challenged.

The demon merely looked amused. “Silly young thing. So much knowledge and yet so ignorant. All proceedings in The House are known by the Mistress. You and your companion were known from the moment you walked in, as it was known the moment your partially sightless friend found his path in the arms of the one which he considered his foe. It is by her wish alone that they remain and it is only by her wish alone that you remain.”

“Um, Giles. Are you getting any of this?”

“Not entirely, Buffy.” He addressed the demon. “Are you telling us that we must remove our clothing if we are to leave?”

“I am telling you that you must remove our clothing to be approved by me. The Mistress is a benevolent being, but she has many enemies.”

“I wonder why?” Buffy chortled. “So, you just ask people to strip right here in the hall?”

They sensed acquiescence in the demon’s silence.

“And what then?”

“Then you wait to be approved. These are the rules of The House. The rules are always followed.”

“That’s-that’s just preposterous. I’ll do nothing of the sort.” Giles moved to pass the rangy demon but with one step into the hallway beyond the guard, Giles felt searing pain behind his eyes. He crumpled to the floor, nearly unconscious.

“All proceedings in The House are known by the Mistress.”
***

Andrew slipped free and moved away. Xander was disappointed at the loss and confused by Andrew’s disappearance until he reappeared sans condom and began licking and kissing his way up Xander’s sweaty thigh.

“How do you do that?” Xander panted.

“Do what?”

“Remain conscious.”

Andrew laughed. “…lots of sugar…”

He was working his way up Xander’s smooth belly now, licking at the drying cum. As he licked, Xander ran his hands across the soft, mussed hair. He marveled at the differences between Andrew and his last lover. He was way different than Anya. Sex with Anya was always hot and fast and sweaty and very, very sexy, but this was almost painfully intimate and tender and—wait. Waitwaitwait. Did he just call him his lover? When did he jump into a Harlequin Romance novel? And was that what they were? Were they lovers? Does one night make you a lover? Or was Andrew his boyfriend now? What would Willow say? Or Buffy? Ohgod! Buffy would freak! Should that matter? Did it matter? He didn’t think anything would matter too much to Giles because he had the feeling Giles had a few skeletons of his—

“Whatcha’ thinkin’ about?”

Finished with his cleanup job, Andrew settled into his now-familiar spot in the crook of Xander’s arm.

“Nothing, you total girl…,” Xander kidded, pinching Andrew’s side. He yelped and rolled over, pulling Xander into a spooning position. “Just wondering how we’re going to get out of here I guess.”

“The Elodian said the Mistress would come after…we did.”

“Well, we did and I don’t see her.”

“Maybe we should just get some sleep.”

“Sleep does sound of the good right now.”

“Goodnight then.”

“Goodnight, Andrew.”

“Goodnight, Xander.”

A pause.

“Goonight, Johnboy!” They both said and collapsed in a fit of laughter.

***

“And what exactly does ‘approved’ mean?”

“The mistress is a symbiotic being. She survives on the affection of others. In turn, she provides enlightenment where once there was ignorance. A look at the ‘true’ nature of ourselves, as it were.”

“So…Cliff Notes version, she just pimps out random customers and feeds on their lust until she feels satisfied? What’s the matter? She can’t get her own dates?” Buffy laughed bitterly. “That’s what you mean, right? Because that’s the image I’m getting here.”

“You speak with such contempt of her practice, yet your devotion to the learned one is apparent.” The demon gestured to Giles. “I seen no difference between the Mistress and the relationship you have-or could have. You provide him with protection, he provides you with knowledge. In him you could find comfort, in you he could find passion, and yet you withhold. You cannot avoid what you do not understand. All proceedings in The House are known by the Mistress”

“Yeah, I got that. You’ve said it, like, a million times. I’ve also got a friend with a serious case of brain-freeze and that doesn’t put me in a pro-Mistress place.” Buffy removed Giles’ glasses, cradled his head in her lap. She stroked at the smooth forehead, trying to soothe the tremors that still shuddered through his body.

“And you have entered her House without permission. You have brought no key, threatened the guard, charged down the halls, spoken irreverently to myself, refused to follow basic rules, and attempted to intrude in parts of The House that you have not been invited to enter. I’m afraid you have not put the Mistress in a very-what was the name again?”

“Buffy,” She spat out, helping Giles to a sitting position.

“—have not put the Mistress in a very ‘pro-Buffy’ place either.” The demon paused, listening. “Buffy Summers?”

“Yeah, the Slayer. Ever heard of me?”

“I am told the article ‘the’ may no longer be used when referring to you. Is this correct?” The demon smiled slightly.

“Yeah, well. Whatever. There are lots of us now. Doesn’t matter. We’re getting out of here. You can tell your Mistress that we’re ready to leave, just as soon as she helps us find our friends and tells us what it is we need to know.”

The demon continued listening to the unheard voice. Something akin to fear crossed his face. Finally, he addressed the pair.

“I’m sorry. The Mistress does have information that you would greatly appreciate. Apparently she has attempted to contact you and your associates for some time, but was afraid she was unsuccessful. You see, the Mistress rarely leaves The House and never corporally. She has sent many queries to you, but demon ambassadors are seldom trustworthy when it comes to delivering messages to their enemies and human clientele are rare.” The demon appeared to have finished his invisible conversation. Turning his attention fully to the Slayer and her Watcher, he spoke. “The Mistress would like to know how it was that you came upon this information?”

Giles struggled to stand and Buffy pressed her body against his for support. “Ethan Rayne. He’s a human. Barely.” The Watcher managed a bitter groan.

“I shall communicate this knowledge to The Mistress. She is occupied right now, but will be most pleased to know that her summons has been answered. I will assume then, that you carry on your body no item of threat to my Mistress. You may claim Room 22 until such time as the Mistress is made available.”

Without warning, the Kimtet turned and walked away. Buffy and Giles were left standing in the hallway in confusion.

“Well, what do we do now, Giles?” Buffy asked.

Giles was still reeling from the nasty shock and could only lean weakly against his Slayer’s body. “I think I need to sit down.”

With concern, Buffy began pacing Giles up and down the halls of the White House. It was hard to find Room 22. The crazy doors didn’t have any order to them…

***

Xander sat cross-legged on the bed, rolling his aching neck in languid circles. The bed was both beautiful and uncomfortable as hell. Andrew was picking absently at the almost-empty bowl of strawberries. Something was troubling him.

“So, if Banshee was actually a guy, why did it look like a girl in the movie?

“I don’t know, Andrew. Maybe that wasn’t actually supposed to be Banshee. I think maybe that was Siryn, Banshee’s daughter…?”

“But I thought she was kidnapped when—“ A well-placed strawberry silenced the young man.

“Enough X-Men. I’m starving for ‘real’ food and tired of being in this room. I just want this Mummy Hand to be over.”

“Sure. So you can go back…and…stuff. Got it.”

“Don’t you want to get out of here?” Xander asked.

“Well sure. I mean, yeah. But…”

“What?”

“Nothing.” The young man crawled over the rumpled sheets and wrapped thin legs around Xander’s broad back, attempting to press his feet together.

“Oh! An Andrewclamp. That could be interesting.” Xander let his head roll forward as Andrew began kneading the muscles of his back. "Um…very interesting…,” he murmured as the smaller boy hit just the right spot. The two Scoobies had woken with the rising sun and found their patience wearing thin. Despite the night’s activities, the door remained stubbornly locked.

“It’s just…we’ve been in this bed for, like, fifteen hours.”

“And this is of the bad?”

“And…I’m happy.”

“Um-hum…,” he moaned slightly as Andrew hit another sensitive spot.

“But if we go back-I mean when we go back and all…then it will all be over, you know? I d I don’t think I want it to end yet. It’s like…like when you were a kid and Christmas was all months and months of buildup, and then there you were at 7:00 a.m. on Christmas morning with this pile of paper and stuff and it’s all over. The day has barely started, and it’s over. I don’t know. Maybe I’m not making any sense.”

“No, I know what you mean. Of course, for me the annual game of Keep Mom From Passing Out In the Egg Nog So Grandma Doesn’t Find Out was a laugh riot that ran from Christmas until New Years, but I think I get it.” Xander twisted in Andrew’s grasp, pulling him in for a quick but tender kiss, then he sighed. “I don’t know what will happen when we go back. I won’t lie to you. I don’t know. You don’t know. But I do know that there are a lot of things I regret in my life, and don’t regret anything that’s happened in this room and maybe that’s enough. Does that make sense?”

Soft blue eyes regarded him openly. “Yeah. I guess that makes sense.”

“Good, because we could still be here for a long, long while.” Once again, Xander’s stomach stared up its clamorous growl.

“I wish we could get out of here…or at least had some French toast…or some Pop-Tarts!” Andrew called suddenly to the ceiling.

“What are you doing?”

“Ordering room service, I hope.”

“You know…if you’re hungry, Andrew…I have an idea.” Xander leaned to the empty cart and removed a bottle of room-temperature chocolate syrup. Slowly, he began dripping the delicious brown goo over his chest, licking his lips seductively.

“Um, Xander?”

“Yeah?”

“I have chocolate allergies.”

“Oh.” As Xander began to plan how to remove the sticky goop from his chest, Andrew ran his fingers through the chocolate, bringing dripping thumbs to Xander’s mouth where they were licked clean and then dipped again and returned to his waiting mouth.

“Um…I like this game…,” Xander giggled, taking another Andrewfinger onto his tongue.

“So…where do you think the Mistress is? I mean she she like a doctor, making the rounds and checking in on her patients? Or does she just come knocking like a door-to-door salesman and—“

Andrew stopped as the hairs on the back of his neck began to stand up. Xander was having a similar reaction and both turned to find a shimmering, transparent portal opening near the bed. Through the spatial slit emerged a woman taller than any they had seen before. Donned in a gown of plum colored velvet, she exuded a regality that caused both of the young men to cast their eyes down and wait to be addressed.

“Gentlemen, I perceived that you were eager to leave my House. This pains me, as my guests are usually desirous of staying longer than their allowed time period. Has your stay been…unpleasant?” She gave them an innocent smile.

Xander and Andrew blushed furiously. Uncertain of which naked Scooby she was addressing, both young men shook their head but remained respectfully silent.

“I will try not to take offense at your wordlessness.” she chuckled. “Intimate relations of all types are encouraged here, but those familiar with me know my penchant for men, especially human men. You have been favorably approved, I might add.”

Xander finally found his vocal cords and managed to croak out a weak, “We have a question.”

The Mistress favored him with a gentle smile. “Of course. And you are entitled to one answer. It’s the payment I provide all my clientele. ”

“We came here because we heard a group of demons were going to try to open the Hellmouth and—“ Xander was stopped mid-question by an incredibly long, finger.

“Shushhhh…,” she interrupted. “You have no need to answer that question anymore. Your associates from Sunnydale are here and I will give them the information you need.”

“Um, Mistress, what are you talking about?” Andrew was confused and trying desperately to cover himself with the remains of the sticky blue sheets that lay knotted on the enormous bed.

“One of your Slayers has come. Buffy, I think, and I believe she is with a man named Rupert-poor dear. What a perfectly horrid name. They are waiting to be approved and then they, too, may seek guidance from me.”

“Oh, no no. You don’t understand. Buffy and Giles aren’t like that,” Xander tried to explain. “Giles is like a father to Buffy. They’ll be here forever if that’s what you’re waiting for.”

The Mistress smiled indulgently at the two men twined together on her bed. “It is nothing for you to worry yourself with, loyal boy. But I will tell you this; All things are known to me within the walls of this House. Your friends would not have been permitted to stay, otherwise. I predict that it is only a matter of time before their true relationship becomes known-even to them. Time is one thing that we have in abundance in this House. Now, I believe I was waiting for your question.”

Minds still reeling with unwanted pictures of Buffy, Giles, and bottles of vintage scotch, the two lovers racked their brains for the one Question they could ask the nearly omnipotent woman standing before them.

“An excellent question.”

“Wha--?” They both asked, confused.

“ ‘All things’, children.” She smiled softly. “And the answer is…contented. And, I might add, very happy. For herself and both of you. Is this answer satisfactory?”

There were no words to express their answer. The two Scoobies merely nodded, their eyes and chests thick with emotion.

“The door has been unlocked. Your exit is 12-56-4-29. Goodbye…and thank you. You were most…filling.” The Mistress stepped to her shimmering arch. Before she shimmered out, however, the regal woman stopped and turned.

“Oh, and one more thing, gentlemen. She says to tell you that “Let’s Get It On” by Marvin Gaye is the best make-out song ever.”



End End