Three Sheets

Chapter 5-The Cabana Boy Fantasy

Xander gulped. It was an audible sound and rather cartoonish, which made him blush. The demon was still staring at him through wide, rapidly blinking eyes. The wind picked up, carrying a salt breeze and tingling the skin on the back of Xander’s neck. Somewhere in the distance he could hear “The Girl From Ipanema” playing. It was just as his dream had always played out—Andrew spread innocently for him, his shirt unbuttoned and rustling softly.

Xander gulped again. No one would find out. He could do it. He wouldn’t have to tell anyone. When he left Splendor, he could tell Andrew and Wes and Gunn that he’d chosen Lara Croft. Or T’Pol. Or Janeway for that matter. He could lie.one one would know the truth.

Except him.

He’d know that he’d slept with Andrew. Well, not Andrew. A near-perfect recreation of the blond boy, but not him. Not the real one. The one that loved opera, and Capri Sun, and made Xander laugh with his impersonations of Giles. The one that had tried harder and harder in the last few months to find redemption behind books and midnight patrols with the new slayers. The one that had stayed up and cried with him because a girl in a movie they’d watched looked just a little bit like Anya.

But if he couldn’t have that one…

Damn. It was a circle. He was thinking in circles and there was no way to figure it out. He knew he didn’t want this, though. Not here. Not if it wasn’t for real.

But if he could never have *for real*, would it be so bad to have the dream? Something to make his--what did the demon call them? Self pleasure sessions. Yeah, something to make *those* more realistic...

“I’m still waiting, Xander.”

“I know. I just—“

“Andrew.”

“What?”

“ ‘I know, ANDREW.’ I’m *him* right now.”

“Right. See…I’m—“

“Conflicted, I know. Look, you’re running out of time. Let me put this succinctly, okay? You want him. You say he doesn’t want you. This is the only way you’re going to get him.” The demon reached forward with one hand, running knuckles over the line of Xander’s zipper and looking up through lowered lashes. “No one will find out, Xander. It’s a win-win situation, as you humans say.”

“How romantic,” Xander said wryly.

“You want romance?” The demon—Andrew, he corrected himself—smiled seductively. He reached to a low table next to the bed and tossed something to Xander. “Try this.”

Xander rolled the object in his hand. Massage oil. He uncapped the bottle and took in a deep breath of the coconut-scent. How very…tropical. And how very much like his fantasy. He squinted once at the sun, contemplating.

“Tick-tock, human,” Andrew teased. He grinned at Xander. It wasn’t Andrew’s grin. It lacked something around the eyes, some quirk that no one—not even a shape-changing demon—could recreate, but it was enough.

“Take off your shirt,” Xander commanded.

The demon smiled again and looked a little relieved. Then he unbuttoned his shirt slowly. Andrew let it fall to the sand by the bed. Xander was momentarily distracted--why was there sand *everywhere*? His fantasies could use a little work in the details department, he decided.

“Roll over.”

Andrew turned, baring his back to Xander. The dark-haired man stripped off his clothes until he was clad only in boxers and climbed onto the bed. He straddled Andrew’s hips and poured a generous portion of the massage oil onto his hands, letting the lukewarm liquid drip through his fingers and onto the tanned skin below him.

Andrew wouldn’t have a tan. Days of researching and nights on patrol made sure of that.

“Would you like me to change the pigment of his skin?”

Xander winced, the spell momentarily broken. “Naw. It was just an observation. I mean, you did a good job.” He quickly rubbed his hands onto Andrew’s back, working the oil into his skin. He smoothed the oil over the younger man’s back and down each arm. When his hands were relatively oil-free, he reached beneath them both and Andrew arched his back slightly without Xander asking. He unbuttoned the loose pants and shimmied them down the length of Andrew’s body until he, too, was wearing only his boxers.

Xander slid lower, working another palmful of oil over Andrew’s lower back and thighs. He massaged each leg in just the spots he knew Andrew would like. Keeping up with the new slayers had left the younger man with shin splints that only Xander knew about. If this was really Andrew, he’d be moaning gratefully right now and—

The demon let out a low, sexual moan.

Okay, probably not like that, but close enough. The way the demon was reacting was unnerving, but Xander realized that he’d have to get used to it. That was the problem with the situation; it had all of the fantasy, none of the reality. It’s what most people paid thousands of dollars for, and here he was complaining.

Trying to get past his momentary wiggins, he grasped forcefully at the silk boxers that stood between himself, Andrew, and a thorough massage. He yanked down and awkwardly pulled them off. Then he continued the massage he’d started. Xander kneaded each beautiful, tan-line-free-because-it-wasn’t-really-Andrew ass cheek and began to enjoy himself. Stealing himself for what he knew would come next, he took a deep breath.

“On your back,” he commanded.

“Of course, Mr. Harris. Anything you ask,” Andrew responded, rolling onto his back. Stalling briefly, Xander searched around for the previously discarded tropical drink. It appeared on a table next to him and he reached for it gratefully, tossing the paper umbrella on his coat and downing the frosty pink mixture quickly. He set the glass on the table as best as he could and hoped the strong drink would take effect before the limo liquor wore off. Then he decided he was ready to face the idea of a nude Andrew underneath him.

Still straddling Andrew, Xander averted his eyes nervously and began massaging more oil onto Andrew’s chest and arms. As his strokes brought him farther down the body beneath him, Andrew moaned again more loudly and arched toward Xander’s to Xan Xander found himself growing hard and grinding into the smaller body.

Xander was beginning to enjoy himself. It wasn’t Andrew, but it was sure as hell better than spending the night alone in his room, imagining what it would be like to make love to Andrew. At least, that was the way he had spent almost every night for the last month.

No one would find out. He kept that in his head as he slicked his hands and wrapped them around the cock straining toward him. Andrew shuddered and Xander found himself mirroring the motion. He ran his hand up and down the hard length. Andrew’s eyes shut and the lashes fluttered dramatically. The demon’s mouth was pinched shut and smiling—a sight far less sexy now that it was happening outside of Xander’s own head. He felt the body below him begin to tense and he cruelly stopped, then sat back to enjoy the view.

He stared at the delectable figure of Andrew spread eagle across the bed—oiled and writhing with desire. It had appeared as midday when Xander had started his fantasy, but now Tiki torches and bonfires began to dot the darkening beach as the fake sun began to sink lower on the horizon. The light reflected off the gleaming skin and Xander had to catch his breath.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Harris?” the demon begged with a soft cry, ignoring his own throbbing cock. “Please?” The wind picked up and gritty sand began to stick to the blond boy’s shining body.

Xander rolled off the bed and stood, then stripped off his boxers. Andrew crawled forward to the edge of the bed. He moved to put gleaming lips on Xander’s mouth, but the dark-haired man pulled away. He let his eyes flicker downward and Andrew nodded, sliding off of the bed and onto his knees in the sand.

With the first touch of a bold tongue on his dick, Xander gasped and clutched at the demon’s perfectly-coifed spikes. Andrew wouldn’t be so eager and his hair wouldn’t be so evenly spaced, Xander thought. The demon removed his mouth.

“Would you like his hair—”

“NO! Just suck!”

The mouth was back in an instant and Xander forgot about everything. Forgot that he was being serviced by a demon. Forgot that Andrew didn’t love him. Forgot that it was a guy sucking his dick—and for some reason, that gave him only a momentary wiggins and then it was gone. Then he began to be concerned that he wasn’t *more* concerned about that, and he almost asked the Rushmah to stop. That was, until the demon plunged forward and Xander found himself swallowed completely.

He moved his hands to the slick shoulders, trying to remain balanced while he shuddered and came in spurts down the Andrew-thing’s throat. As the demon licked him clean, Xander stared at the lapping waves on the beach at sunset. The demon said that it wouldn’t get dark here. I guess he was wrong, Xander thought.

“You though it would be romantic. You’ve fantasized about this, too. Sunset with Andrew.” When Xander didn’t respond, the demon said, “Don’t worry. I can make it light again. Would you like that?”

“Sure. Yeah.”

The sunlight was suddenly brighter. Breathing heavily, Xander continued to knead at the tanned, gleaming shoulders in front of him. He tried brushing the sand from Andrew’s skin, but it wouldn’t come off. He realized that he, too, was covered in sand in the most uncomfortable of places, and that his time was probably almost up.

“You could use the shower, Mr. Harris,” the demon offered. Xander nodded silently. He turned and made for the stall.

Stepping onto the stone floor, he adjusted his eye patch and then turned on the taps and watched hot swirls of steam roll up. He let the water soothe him, grateful for whatever spell allowed him to feel the water on his skin. Xander washed his hair, trying to remove the sand. Then he soaped himself up thoroughly and stood under the water’s piercing spray.

Warm arms slid around his body and over his chest.

“I brought you towels, Mr. Harris. What would you like? Would you like me to scrub your back?”

Xander wrapped his own arms around the slimmer ones that bound him. What would he like? He’d *like* it to be real. To find Andrew in his shower for real. To take Andrew to a tropical beach for real. To know what it would be like to kiss Andrew. For real.

Anything that was *for real.*

“No,” Xander said. “I know I only have a few minutes left. Could you just…could you just stand there? Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

When the arms didn’t move, he covered them with his own and closed his eye. Then he had an entirely different kind of fantasy. A fantasy where there was no beach, no servitude, no endless light. Just a dream of hard work and redemption and lovemaking that wasn’t perfect and friendship that came naturally.

A fantasy where Andrew loved him.

TBC…