Grave attraction

Title: Grave attraction
Author: Angel Jade
Rating: NC-17
Content: Slash, language, smut.
Spoilers: Season two BtVS
Pairings: Xander/Angel
Description: Xander is drawn to a certain brooding vampire
Setting: Season two, pre-Angelus.
Feedback: angel-jade@buffyrocks.co.uk
Distribution: Kinetic (if you want it), anyone else ask first please.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of this innocent fic, that privilege belongs to Mr.Whedon and co, who do make money from them, unlike me. *g*


I hate this part of the plan. The part where I get stuck doing something dangerous or scary or boring or messy. Or the part where I end up having to go with someone I *really* don't want to go with.

Or in this case, both.

You see, it should be really simple. It should be 'I hate him, he can't stand me' and nothing else to it.

But with life on the hellmouth, things never are that simple.

I could have refused to go with him. Could have spun my usual, 'I hate the guy' crap. Which I think to some point is actually true. But then I get looked at like I'm some kid throwing a tantrum.

So I sigh and do as I'm told.

Today's mission? The sewers.

Yeah, I get the smell, the muck and the bad company.

But it's not the fact he's dating the girl I love. It's not that he's just perfect at everything. It's not even that he's an undead demon thing that shouldn't be mixing with humans.

It's that every time we're alone together on one of these little missions, we end up doing things I couldn't imagine describing to anyone else.

It's wrong, it's bad and it's just plain stupid but it makes it all the more exciting.

Forget the fact he's with Buffy. Who cares that I'm straight?

It's not about who he is or what sexuality we are, it's just about feeling something we both need for a while. He needs it as much as I do and although we never talk about it, it's the need that drives us every time.

Needing to feel another body, however hot or cold, against our skin calling out our names when we need more than what's already being given.

It's addictive.

Who knows what drove us to it the first time? But ever since, as much as we both fight it, we end up in each other's arms. Against a wall, behind a bush, in a bed...it doesn't matter.

We're addicted to that feeling of need and the satisfaction that follows.

We don't talk about it. Ever. But I see the looks he gives me. As if he's watching me for signs. Of what? I don't know. Maybe looking for the signs of attraction that sometimes accompany the smell he must get off me sometimes.

I'm 17, I get very horny, it's not like I'm really into him or anything. I just imagine things while we sit in the library talking or whatever we're up to at the time.

Cold hands running over my skin, making me shiver because they're just not human, nothing about him is human. It's so much better than that.

It scares me sometimes how I seem to be fucking with death and enjoying it. I'm afraid that these little antics are going to take me deeper into an addiction that no human will ever be able to sate.

So as always, we start out not speaking. Or if we do, it's always about the mission. Short cold comments followed by shorter, colder replies.

He knows I hate him. Possibly hates me too. But like everything else in our lives; friends, lovers, life...it ceases to exist when one of us finally caves and attacks the other with desperate want which is always quickly reciprocated.

Tonight though, I have other plans.

It needs to end now. I know what this is doing to me. And I know what could happen should this all get out.

Willow's resentment, Buffy's heartbreak and Giles' disappointment.

I couldn't take it.

So, as we walk through the stinky tunnels of Sunnydale, wondering who'll start it this time, I do something I've never done before.

"Angel."

He's shocked to hear his name from my lips. I never say his name, not really. Usually only when we're fucking. He knows, just from that one word, that this sentence is going to be an important one. So he listens.

"This has got to stop." I tell him, awaiting a similar response.

He doesn't disappoint.

"I know." He says, slowly. "I can't keep doing this to Buffy."

I nod. "So it ends?"

He nods in agreement.

I think he's a little shocked we've talked about this. Not more than me though. This is something I can't bring myself to think about, half the time, let alone say it out loud.

Okay, so I didn't exactly say it out loud, but this is a big accomplishment for me. I said no. I ended the relationship and did I just say relationship? Fuck, now I know it has to end.

"It ends tonight." I say, repeating myself slightly, but it's something I need to say. Just to reassure him. Not me.

"Tonight." He says.

Neither of us look each other in the eye and it occurs to me, we're pretty similar when you think about it.

No, I guess we're really not. But in some ways...

"Does that mean, now, or after tonight?" He asks me, sounding pretty nervous.

We better be careful, this is bordering on conversation. Conversation about sex and that's bad. Bad, bad, bad...

"After." I say, getting a little closer. This is the last time and then it ends.

Like you weren't just hoping he'd ask that!

I wasn't hoping anything!

Sure, and your dick didn't get hard the moment he said it.

Ignoring the voices in my head, I lean up as he goes to kiss me.

I never really know why we kiss. It seems wrong. We don't even like each other. It's about the sex, always about the sex, but for some reason, it feels right to do it.

As the need gets stronger, his hold around me tightens and I can feel his erection pressing into my hip, just as mine is pressing into his leg.

I think he makes a soft moan as we're kissing, but it could have been mine. When we're this close, I can never tell, what's me and what's h
H
His hand moves down my side and he pulls away, just enough to get his hand to my zipper.

I can't help but feeling a stab of fear as we start out. I never know why. Being so close and vulnerable to a vampire I guess. But it always seems something more.

I don't think he minds though, because the moment it hits, he always speeds up and I'm sure it makes him all the harder.

Maybe I'm just appealing to his demon, making him more feral and desperate.

Maybe that turns me on more than I should admit.

Now that he's got my zipper undone, I'm vaguely aware I'm being pushed back, practically slammed into the wall of the tunnel.

I really can't think much about anything anymore, because his hand is wrapped around my cock, moving slowly and the only thing I need to concentrate on is staying on my feet.

We've both taken to carrying lube around at all times. That's how bad it's become. We can't be left alone in the same room together for five minutes without something happening.

The amount of blowjobs I've given him behind the book stacks...

Sometime between my collision with the wall and now, he's managed to prepare his cock and as my pants fall down to my feet, I realise it's my cue to turn round. He releases my cock in favour of lubing my ass, his finger slipping inside as I'm pressed into the wall.

I almost laugh at loud as I realise the kind of things that cover these walls, and here I am fucking against one.

I'm a sick, sick man.

When I feel his cock pushing at my entrance, all thoughts vanish and all I feel is him easing inside me.

I know, I just fucking know, that this is why I keep going back. His hands holding me tightly, pressing himself to me before driving into me, slowly at first...always so slow and careful. Then as it gets too much for both of us, he's ramming into me, causing powerful mixed screams of pain and pleasure that I could only feel with him.

My fingertips scratch at the walls in desperation and it's possible I'm begging him for more, to stop, to be rougher, to slow down, to bring me off...only he can inspire all these thoughts at once and when I'm this out of control I never know which of them I'm articulating.

Thankfully, he never needs encouragement. He just knows what I want, what I need.

I feel his cold hand back on my cock and I groan in appreciation. He's pumping my cock to his own thrusts and I have to bite my lip to prevent screaming his name.

He's whispering mine in my ear, telling me how warm I am. How he never feels anything unless he's buried deep inside my tight ass. Always the same words, always the fresh shiver down my spine after hearing them.

I can feel the pleasure building up inside me. I cry his name out as he pushes me over the edge with his hand.

He doesn't take long to follow, burying his lips onto my shoulder to hide his own cry of gratification. He never bites me, though I sometimes wonder what it'd feel like.

But I know he wants to. Every time he kisses my neck, his teeth graze idly over the skin, playing on a thin line, which is easily overstepped.

He pulls away to straighten himself out, while I do the same.

No words. No looks.

We forget each other is there and think only of the mistakes we make and the people we'll inevitably hurt.

But it doesn't stop us, it never stops us. Because there's always next time.

But not this time. It's over now. Last time I let him do those things and last time I lower myself to doing those things to him.

As we walk on, continuing our search for a demon which will have long gone by now, there's no longer a nervousness or unease in the atmosphere. Only the calm that follows our antics and for a short time, eases the lonely suffering we both endure.


The End