A Moment to Breathe

A Moment to Breathe

Tapping fingers, shaking hands.

So far past second and third thoughts that he’s at least in the thirties by now and he’s only been standing there waiting for about twenty minutes. Or slouching, rather, his back against the dingy wall beside the door in the flickering light of the hall, trying to look like he belongs and isn’t two seconds from bolting.

What the hell had he been thinking?

He hadn’t been; that was the whole problem. He had went to the bar solely for the purpose of not thinking. It might have been easier if Wesley or Angel had warned him it was a demon karaoke bar before they sent him there to wait for them, but they’d all had a lot on their minds.

Had felt a little selfish about wanting to get away, away from hearing about their problems when he was there in LA for help with his own, but he couldn’t take anymore. Couldn’t hold any more weight on his shoulders, his soul and mind, couldn’t bring himself to care. It wasn’t a way he liked seeing himself but he was burned out and raw from the past year.

He felt faded and washed out, new black pulled through the washer, twisted and used so often it turned a dull, muted echo of its old self. A shadow in the background watching, neutral.

Desensitized.

The demon behind the bar hadn’t seemed like the type to be conned into giving him a beer, so he’d asked for a glass of water, mainly for something to do with his hands. Hadn’t wanted to get drunk anyway, he’d seen enough to know oblivion from your problems only worked so long and the things he’d seen and dealt with already in his life? He’d end up drowning himself in it to escape if he started.

After the third screaming, squawked out rendition of yet another 80’s song he used to love but would run screaming if he ever heard again, from yet another demon the hair on the back of his neck told him they needed to kill because hadn’t that always been what we were supposed to do? he turned to leave, having mercy on his ears. And tripped headlong into the smoky blue eyes of the man sitting beside him, slouched down over a glass of something pale and golden.

The man said something, voice low and husky, lush full lips moving, but Xander couldn’t have repeated what he’d heard if offered all the money in the world. He’d been attracted to men, sure, not that he’d ever admitted it, but he’d never felt it spark from the soles of his feet up before, never seen it flare mutual in another’s eyes, sudden recognition.

First touch of slightly rough fingertips on the inside of his wrist had made him start, pulse quickening as he felt his skin flush in a dizzying warmth of bated breath and butterflies. It was more than attraction, more than a click of awareness. Before those long lashes shielded the secrets of those pale blue eyes, he had seen the scars, the fears and chaotic struggle of morality he saw so often in his own when he chanced to meet them in the mirror.

Long fingers soothed and stroked over soft skin, even as they soaked up the same comfort of stringless human contact, warmth and touch without wanting more than that in return.

All without a spoken word, choices given and an answer returned, a slip of paper scribbled on quickly, awkwardly, scar wrapped around a wrist peeking out from under the sleeve of a deep blue shirt, giving some silent testimony to the stiffness of the handwriting. His fingers, feeling blunt and clumsy as they trembled slightly, had folded the paper twice, sliding it down into the pocket of his jeans as the man stood and turned, then spun back on his heel and leaned close.

Soft, soft lips, sharp teeth and a wicked tongue, smooth velvet sliding along his mouth with a spicy tingle and tantalizing promise, leaving him with tight jeans, swollen lips and the dark bite of whiskey on his tongue. A slow, teasing wink and flash of those sinful blue eyes, hand that had been stroking his wrist caressing the neck of the guitar Xander hadn’t noticed until the man walked towards the stage, and he had sat spellbound at the soft song, pain and confusion throbbing from every word.

He had jumped, startled, at the voices behind him, Angel’s bitter mocking towards the man on stage just making him like the guy all the more. Because really, whoever said Angel had good taste in character?

Droning out their conversation, his mind seized on only one thing, a name to go with the fuck me eyes and slow, seductive touches, his own eyes focusing back on stage as he listened only to those husky, softly sung words. Lindsey McDonald.

There had been insults, passed and flowed between, along with a flicker of pale eyes in his direction as he sat silent, watching Angel and the lawyer he had heard quite a bit about before coming to the bar, blue eyes questioning silently and he’d put as much reassurance in his own as he could before the man got fed up and walked out, leaving Angel to stand there.

Drama and posturing over, Angel had given him what little information they could find on Glory and sent him on his way, of which he went quickly, as ever grateful to be rid of the vampire’s company. Part of him had been glad to see Cordy again and would have liked to have more time to talk but most of him just wanted to get away, not needing yet another reminder of the screw-ups of the past, of hurting yet another person he loved.

He hadn’t went back home, though, had driven aimlessly around as he watched the clock tick away until he had finally parked in the near deserted motel lot and banged his fist against the steering wheel, trying to stop. Stop thinking, stop the voices.. just wanting to stop.

Anya’s voice echoing in his head, pained and confused as they fought yet again, the wear and tear of everything happening driving them farther apart instead of closer together and he was lost of ways to try to repair the rift. Another halt, pause in their relationship, some time apart to try to face down another apocalypse, feeling old and worn before their times.

The stark, hopeless look in his Willow’s eyes at Tara’s madness, the desperation in Buffy’s as she looked at Dawn.

The world unraveling and coming down as everyone else kept smiling and laughing, having no clue of what they give up and break themselves over to keep the earth going round and keeping the monsters in the night from their doorsteps.

He had almost jumped at the chance to drive down to LA when none of them answered their phones when Giles had called, needing, craving a chance to get away. Not for long, not running away, but smothering and screaming inside for a day’s respite.

Just a day to regroup.

Now in the dimly lit hallway, licking over dry lips as he slides the slip of paper from his pocket once more to recheck the room number for the fifth time in as many minutes, stomach tightening as he asks himself again what in the hell he thinks he is doing. Head coming up at the sound of heavy, weary footsteps, footsteps that pause briefly as the man sees him, Lindsey sees him, against the wall. Slight pained look around those raw, screaming eyes fading slightly as the man relaxes, murmuring that he had thought he would change his mind, back out.

Not saying how close he had come to doing just that, he looks him over, taking in the stressed, worn expression, grim lines around those beautiful lips, red raw marks on his throat and fists and steps closer, the need for comfort turning into the need to comfort. Slow, gentle strokes of palms over his back as that soft mouth presses up into his letting him know with each soothing caress that Lindsey knows anyway, how close he came to bolting, and showing him with every hot stroke of tongue how grateful he is that he stayed.

Thoughts of comfort, of numbing the pain and fear, turn quickly to heavy pants of pleasure, dizzyingly hot kisses sucking the air from his lungs and the strength for his knees, pressing the smaller man hard against the wall as hips grind up and down over each other.

Hands slide under shirts and over hips, gasps and moans panted against flushing lips, fingers fumbling with a keycard and one throat growling out a curse as the door sticks while the other laughs softly, lips trailing down an arched neck. Door finally opening to spill them into the small room, soft confession or apology of not being able to sleep in his apartment smothered by Xander’s lips as he strokes over a cheekbone, murmuring his understanding, he has ghosts in his life, too.

Soft thud and click of the door closing and locking, softer sounds of clothes dropping as they walk backwards to the bed, desperation to touch and be touched guiding their movements as low moans and hushed cries echo into each other’s mouths. Xander soaks up the frantic touches, adding his own to the mix as he comes to the realization that the pale eyed man needs this as much as, if not more, than he does, gentling his caresses and going on pure instinct as he slicks up his fingers from the tube in the bag the man brought and slides them carefully inside.

Shaking and panting roughly as he closes his eyes against the gorgeous sight of the taut, perfect body under his writhing for him, moaning for him, not wanting it over before it even starts. Cries getting harsher and more desperate, blunt nails digging into his shoulders as Lindsey tries to pull him closer, finally reaching over for a foil packet and ripping it open, sliding it on and sliding in.

Smothering his own broken moans in the sweat slick skin of the lawyer’s neck, mouthing and sucking, biting down gently as the man trembles under him before driving his hips up demandingly. Not making him ask, plead, giving him what he wants and thrusting down deep, voice going rough and husky as he talks soft to Lindsey, wondering in the back of his mind why he had never thought to try this before as strong thighs tighten around him and muscular legs wrap tight.

Teeth scraping at his own neck now, strong, rough fingers sliding up and down his slick back, sweat pooling along his spine as his hips work harder, thighs and back flexing as he drives deep, pulling soft groans and cries from the mouth at his throat. Movements getting more and more frantic as the sounds from Lindsey do, his own moans and grunts getting lost as he grits his teeth and throws his head back, reaching between them to wrap his fingers around the throbbing hardness leaking against his belly.

Wanting, needing to come badly, chest heaving and beads of sweat rolling down into his eyes as he slams his hips forward, fist stripping the cock in his hand ruthlessly as Lindsey bucks and curses, voice gone raw and harsh as he chokes out a rough cry and comes hard in Xander’s hand. Dark eyes locked on wide, dilated blue as the older man convulses around him, back arching and lips parting in pained ecstasy, the sight drawing Xander down, down.. over the edge and shattering, his voice echoing in the small room as he cries out.

Rough kisses with clashing teeth and harsh pants, pulses pounding and overheated bodies shivering in the air-conditioned room as sweat cools on their skin, condom pulled off and tossed into the trash beside the bed as they twine themselves around each other. Not speaking, yanking the rough cool blankets over their skin as Xander spoons himself around Lindsey’s back, palm sliding over the other man’s chest as he familiars himself with the alien feel of another man pressed close to him.

He knows he’s going back tomorrow, back to fight with everything in him that he has, fight for his friends, family, because that’s who and what he is, but for now, listening to the soft, sleepy murmurs of the man curled beside him, he wishes. Wishes he could do as the man asks and come with him to wherever the road takes them, to an admittedly just as dangerous existence as the one he now leads, as he hears tales of Senior Partners powerful as gods, tales of things even he didn’t know bumped in the night.

But they both know he won’t.

A soft, tender kiss of thanks to the sweaty nape of Lindsey’s neck, a gentle goodbye as they drift off to sleep. A bittersweet memory to look back on years later and wonder.

What if he had been free to take the chance. What if it could have been more than a dizzying clash of two lost souls needing.. just simply needing human contact that shouldn’t be so hard to find.

More than just a moment in time to catch his breath, to recharge and get ready to face the world, reality again.

A moment to breathe.