Rating: pretty much NC-17, but look at the semblance of plot and stand proud.
Warning/Spoiler/Pairing: this happens before the fifth and second seasons of our respected series. you saw btvs season 4 and angel season 1? You know all you need to know. Herein you shall find gen, pre-slash and slash; fluff, humor, angst, h/c, the lightest of s/m and the pairings are pretty much a freeforall. Furthermore, all the human couplings that happen, well, they happen safely and don’t you forget it.
Disclaimer: mutant enemy, kuzui, sandollar and 20th own the rights to the characters, but the characters owe their lives to us, thank you very much. Anyway, I’m not getting paid, so, that’s that.
Distribution: my site and anywhere that asks nicely.
Words: appx. 9500.
A/N: pretty much, yeah. ladycat777 made me. Who knew, y’know? The gay shirt thing has taken over the globe, I’m just enabling, honestly. Also, cuz, LadyCat made me because she and mpoetess were having some kind of thing, about which I know very little, but it involved gay shirts, so, here you have it, the gay shirts orgy-fic I’ve been trying not to promise the world, in honor of everybody’s favorite letters of the alphabet: L, C, M, and P.
Here/Now
Here
The basement of the Summers house was smoky.
Buffy’s lover and Buffy’s ex-lover were trying really hard not to stare each other down. A couple of Buffy’s never-were lovers were there, unless you count Spike as an ex, since, y’know, they were engaged and all. Two of her ex-watchers, too. And one seriously uncomfortable Charles Gunn.
Which isn’t to say that no one else was uncomfortable, it’s just that Gunn, alone in a room full of super, semi-super, and just plain strong white men, even the couple of them he knew, wasn’t feeling particularly bolstered by the fact that none of them had their pants or shoes or socks or anything, well, on – a fact that historically, Gunn was sure, did not bode well for him.
Which isn’t to say that they were all sitting there naked. In fact the only way you could really tell they were naked was to be one of them, which is to say you had to feel the breeze drifting over your legs and business and up under your pastel, sleeves rolled-up, dress shirts.
Their shirts, Xander Harris was deciding, were really, really gay. And he just knew – in the sense of he knew – that this was all his fault and that, liquor or not, there would be hell to pay…
“Xander?”
“Yes, beautiful wiccan Willow, how may I incant you today?”
“You’re so cute, Xander. If it wasn’t for the whole gay now thing, I’d definitely be up in your business.”
“Like senior year, up in my business, or like, goodbye Jenna Jameson, hello Willow Sexenberg, up in my business?” Xander grinned, and pushed his hair out of his eyes.
Willow stood and whacked him on the back of the head so his hair fell right back where it had been.
“Xander,” Willow sighed, sitting back down. “This is an important talk. No sex jokes.”
“Not even one?”
“Stow it mister.” Her lips tightened and Xander blinked hard.
“Rowr,” Xander managed before the whack came on his leg. “Sorry,” he said, laughing.
“Out of your system?” Xander nodded. “Good, Xander, I need to ask you something.”
“Okeehokey.” Xander leaned forward slightly, thoughts of spell doing planted firmly at the root of his… mind. He thought that was his mind tingling, he couldn’t be sure.
“Will you give Tara away?” Willow said, her face and voice warm and plaintive. Xander blinked hard again.
“What, we’re not gonna keep her? But she’s trained, and barely barks, and doesn’t shed, I mean…”
Whack.
“Stupidhead. This is serious. We’re grown ups now. Tara’s not a dog, but…” Willow sighed again, shook off some of her nervousness. “Well, Tara isn’t comfortable asking her family for this, and I love you, but I kind of want Giles to give me away, and I love you, still, y’know, but there’s just some things, like, I would be up in your business, if it were my business, but it’s not my business, so because Tara, and I…”
Willow’s voice dropped off at the end and she and Xander sat staring at each other. Xander broke the gaze first, looked down at Willow’s feet, which were pointing cutely together, the way they always did when her love and her nervousness were pretty much the same thing. Xander looked up at Willow and smiled warmly.
“So, who’s the groom?”
Whack.
“I’m just saying, is it to be two gowns, two tuxes, one and one? I need details. And tell me I’m not wearing a gown. I’m open to a lot of things, but that’s not one…” He grinned a little bit, “of course I’m not saying I’m solid on the gown issue, but I’m not wearing taffeta and I’m partial to a plunging neckline course I’d have to do something about this farmer tan, so, when’s the date, how much laying out should I commit to, just tell me now. And if Giles is in a gown too – which if I am, he is, capiche? – then he’s gonna need a sash or a really high neckline or something because I’m just not sure the world is quite ready for his big broad sexy older-man chest.”
Willow stared for a moment and then laughed. Hard.
“What?” He asked, incredulous.
“Maybe we should plan a dual ceremony?”
“Ho, ho. Anya and I are not getting married. Not yet…”
Willow laughed again.
“I’m not sure I like you this happy, Will,” Xander said, grinning.
But that was all before, and this was now, and Xander (and Charles Gunn and it seemed all the mortals except for maybe Wesley) was pretty sure that he didn’t like himself or this room of burly gay shirt wearing men quite as happy as they were. That is, if they were as happy as Xander was, which was plenty, and which was starting to leave a big happy wetspot on the front of his stupid gay shirt.
Giles squinted at the cards in his hand, smoke curling off his cigar as he tapped the ashy end into the empty peanut bowl to his left. He was trying not to pay attention to the fidgeting in the room. He glanced back at the center of the table where there were two separate piles of cards, and then back at his hand. It was his turn and his left foot tapped surreptitiously on the concrete of the basement floor. He glanced around the room again, the fidgeting had almost stopped. Spike, two seats to the left of Giles, tossed back a shot and tried to contain his smug grin as he stared quite furtively at the low front of Xander’s pale orange shirt, it was like the pink version of orange, the color plus white.
They were each wearing pastel dress shirts; part of the agreement for this “bachelor” party was that the boys form one great big gay pride flag. Dawn’s idea, of course, which was discarded because, from what would Dawn know gay pride flags, a supposition that made Tara giggle, Willow make up her mind, and here they were.
Giles looked back at his hand, two cards, one he could play, but one which would mean that either the boy to his left or the vampire to his right were going to be naked, or close enough. A quick glance toward Xander, showed that the boy probably didn’t want to be naked just right now.
Xander caught the glance and stammered, “What’cha got in your hand there, we’ve been waiting for five minutes. Understandable, in a real game of poker, but here we are, big burly non gamblaholic anonymous types, who here thinks this should really be taking this long?”
Xander watched as all the hands in the room except his and Giles went up. He turned to his left. Spike was grinning ear to ear, with both hands on the table.
Xander cupped his hands over his ears and started singing, “If you want my body, and you think I’m sex…” And stopped. Looked up again. Looked down, away. Anywhere else. The fidgeting was back with a vengeance.
Giles continued to stare at his hand, his nervousness flagging, but not, he realized, his libido. When it became clear that Giles had other things on his mind and was making no move to move, the room got still again.
“So, where’d our girls go tonight?” Gunn ventured.
“Cordelia mandated ritual mall, dinner, movie time in the spirit of convincing the girls not to go through with their ceremony,” Wesley breathed, almost a sigh, and frustrated.
“Why? It’s not like she’s got anything to worry about,” Gunn answered.
“Yeah, exactly, Cordelia can’t exactly get a spontaneous public erection, can she?” Xander said.
“I’ll bloody well drink to that,” and Spike downed another shot.
Wesley chuckled lightly, and looked at Xander, “Honestly, I think that’s her concern. It’s not as though Cordelia’s interactions with men have necessarily been that successful. I’m sure she doesn’t want one of us accidentally, well…”
“Spewing all over her, right, watcher the second?” Spike was loving this. Next to the hot squirming, horny boy, intuiting that Giles must have the power to make someone lose a rumpled, sexy gay shirt or else he wouldn’t be taking so long stripping Xander of his shirt and his heterosexuality. “The cheerleader can handle ‘erself, I promise. Hell, I’ll personally provide her with the gardening shears if it means one of you wallys goes home empty panted.” He leaned down to the floor, picking up his pack of cigarettes, trying to keep his head turned toward the ceiling – as agreed by one and all – as he did so. If a tiny look at the side of Xander’s ass simply couldn’t be avoided, who the hell was to blame for that.
Riley spoke for the first time since he’d lost his socks. “Who invited him anyway?”
“Oh, that’d be Dawn, buck-o,” Spike said, turning back to his phony American accent, “And my friend Zan-durr will back me up on that. Won’t you Zan-durr?”
“I won’t back you up on anything…” Wes, Angel and Gunn chuckled, “But, Dawn did sort of insist, Ri. Sorry.”
“Forr… Gunn?” Riley said, shaking his head.
“Yeahcommando,” Gunn acknowledged.
“You’ve got a stake handy, right?”
Gunn nodded slightly and reached down, tapping on something wooden under the tabletop. Angel chuckled. Tried to acknowledge the fact that he wanted to kill the sandy-haired and contain himself, but he couldn’t. It was just too funny.
“You too, Giles?”
Angel’s head spun and smile dropped as the older watcher mimicked Gunn’s exact movement.
“That’s ridiculous. Soul having over here, guys.”
Giles sighed, decision made about his hand, and looked Angel in the eyes, “Tenuously soul having, Angel. I don’t want to imply anything, untoward, but, well, you’re not known, historically as it were, for a discriminating sexual orientation, and…”
“You might see Xander naked and get a big, shiny happy,” Spike broke in.
“I should’ve staked your sorry ass the minute Dru bit you. Besides, we’re talking perfect happiness, and I’m sorry Xandy, but your whole cabana boy thing isn’t quite as butch as I like ‘em,” Angel said, laughing.
“Wouldn’t have been a vampire yet, wouldn’t have dusted me, you boring old bugger,” Spike said.
Angel grinned smugly and Wesley interjected as Giles singled out one of his cards, “I think it’s been rather firmly established that stakes will kill people quite painfully, as a matter of fact. I believe there’s a slayer in prison for such a thing.”
“Oh, what, that bird? She’d get out in a second if she wanted to, don’t be daffy, Wally,” Spike said, ignoring the fact that he could’ve been a staked human.
Giles laid down one of his two cards and the whole table hushed.
“Uno,” he said.
“Strip Uno?” Xander couldn’t believe his ears. “That’s ridiculous, why, what are you talking about, why would I play strip Uno with Giles and Riley, that’s ridiculous, that’s the most ridiculous idea on the planet ridiculoso. I mean, Will, I support this marriage, I’m pretty sure I actually congratulated you at some point, but I just wanted to have a bachelor party.”
The face staring back at Xander was clearly the resolve face, cliché as it may be. He looked more befuddled than usual and Willow tried to melt the resolve face into the “really, honey, this is what’s best for you” face, but without the big gay irony.
“Xander, it’s going to be like a rehearsal, really. And I decided Uno would be better because it doesn’t, y’know, make things as tense as poker, and only you really enjoy that, lord knows why,” Willow said.
Xander’s thoughts went to things like, ‘it’s a man’s game,’ and ‘cuz I can win poker,’ but Willow’s next words caught him before he could speak.
“And anyway, it won’t just be Giles and Riley,” Willow said, as Xander’s befuddlement temporarily waned.
“You mean, we’re all gonna do a big naked spell with strip Uno and girls?” He grinned stupidly.
“No, I mean that we girls are going to be doing a modified version of you boys’ little exercise in restraint. We’re going to have a group naked tan, w/ exception of dawn who gets to wear a baby tee and shorts,” Xander looked deflated, “but it’ll be nude color because we wouldn’t want to curse the whole thing because someone was in chartreuse and not skin-tone.”
“Can’t we all just wear lycra? And what do you mean not just me and the G-man and Mr. 2% Bodyfat Iowa 2000?”
Willow sighed. Time to tell her boy about the birds and the bees. “Well,” she tried to muster a big smile and shine it in Xander’s direction, as if the news she were about to tell him was going to be a gift instead of a bane, “Angel and his crew are coming from Los Angeles. And before you say the words ‘Buffy and Angel sittin’ in a tree, p-I-s-ing off Ri-ley’ I just want you to know, it was my idea. I like Angel, sort of, and anyway, he’s part of the reason we’re all as close to Buffy, and part of the reason we all know anything about the world around us, and part of the reason I ever needed to do magic – which I could see as mark against him, ‘cause of the whole he lost his soul factor involved there, but I’m big with the not looking the gift horse thing – in the first place, which is the whole reason that Tara and I ever got as close as we did. And we can’t all wear lycra because the ceremony requires the complete nakedness of all the adults present, so. There.”
Xander sort of understood and started to adjust to this newfangled idea of six grown men sitting around butt naked, playing Uno.
“Also, there will be Spike,” Willow snuck in, under her breath, under Xander’s thoughts.
“So,” Xander said, “my next question is, if Dawn’s not going to be naked, and sorry if I’m stuck here for a minute, how is it okay that she’s going to see us all naked? I mean, it’s a wedding, and there’s nakedness, right, but weddings imply hugging and handshaking and kissing and lots of gratuitous feel coppage…”
“Tara and I will do a little glamour on the wedding so that we all look – to Dawn – like we’re wearing clothes. We don’t want to do it on everyone because we don’t want, oh, say Riley to forget that he’s not wearing clothes and start, uhm, thinging with Buffy.”
Xander nodded, his fingernails were fascinating him, and he was really impressed with all the thought and care that Will and Tara had clearly put into this thing and, “Spike, what, did you say, Spike, because, the bleached menace, and I don’t, but, what, why?”
“Who were you just showing concern for, Alexander Lavelle Harris?” Willow said, invoking the sacred full name treatment which communicated, quite precisely – you’ve thrown just about all of the fuss you get to, mister.
“Dawn wanted him to come,” Xander stated, and leaned back into the big cushy chair. He smiled, sarcastically, if a facial expression alone could contain that, and said, “That’s great.”
Six of the seven men stared at the card as Giles lay it down, Spike, of course, was smiling so big his eyes were shut and happy tears were pouring out of his eyes as he tried to restrain his laughter.
At present the game, Uno, er, strip Uno, was being played counter-clockwise due to the many reverse cards which had been played, quiet strategically, to avoid the shedding of clothes. Giles sighed as the card drifted irretrievably away from his hand.
The rules had been simple, he and Joyce Summers had agonized over them in compliance with what Giles understood to be more bacchanal than wedding, but which Willow, more his daughter than anything, really, and Tara wanted very much and which would in fact bind them body and soul to each other. Divorce would scarcely be an option and the girls knew that going in. So, Giles sighed, knew that playing this game was the best way to avoid any embarrassing incidents at the ceremony, and waited for the rules to take place. Red cards, and wild Draw 4 cards, he and Joyce had decided, would be the markers that determined the accursed loss of clothing.
Accursed wasn’t the right word and Giles knew it, but his little smiles and short glances couldn’t be obvious, and in this room, right now, Giles knew what probably only the two vampires could know for sure. And Giles knew, of course, without the extra-sensory assistance:
There wasn’t a flaccid prick in the room.
He also knew that there was no accounting for a penis’ taste in attraction, the will, but not the body, could resist nearly anything. It was in this case, as in so many others, that the card he placed on the table stared back at the six men who weren’t tickled pant-less, and each of them couldn’t wait to see who would open their shirt, the last stop before full on nudity.
The card was red, as were nearly all of the cards in all of their hands, Spike was sure the watcher had stacked the deck somehow, to guarantee the agonizing wait, the anticipation. Nothing’s hotter than anticipation and Spike squinted through his tear streaked eyes and Spike’s cock jumped at the card and the meaning it held.
Angel, somehow, registered the color of the card and began to unbutton his shirt in the tense silence as Wesley – and Riley, notably – gasped.
“Angel, wait,” Giles dropped his hand over Angel’s as he pretended to fumble clumsily at the pastel green shirt. “Look again.”
And Spike’s giggling doubled as Xander’s eyes flew open and his hands flew to his crotch. He tugged down on his shirt, felt the wetness low – not that low, do you think the boy’s not hung? – on his shirt, clamping his hands there, like that would keep the shirt closed, forever closed, somehow.
“Waaatcher,” Spike said, his voice a child’s whine. “Make him open it.”
The six heads all stared at Spike who coughed, and reverted, for the first time in hours to smug and smirking.
“What? Jus’ want him to follow the sodding rules is all, we’re all gonna get bleeding naked, ain’t we? Why’re we even playing this stupid game anyway, there’s no kittens.”
The stares turned to gapes as he lit a cigarette and poured a shot simultaneously, then muttered, “like you lot don’t want him bollocks to the wind, please. The machismo’s got me all a-quiver.”
Riley spoke up again, “Is that a challenge? I’ve seen more guys naked than this room and ten like it put together, stupid hostile. Buffy should kill you… What?” It was, predictably, stares all around.
Angel felt a growl building up, a laugh-y growl, and couldn’t resist, “How many naked guys was that, exactly, Iowa?”
“Seven in this room, plus ten like it, so…” He did the math, he actually did the math. Spike laughed openly first, then Xander and Angel. The watchers tried to refrain.
Gunn was in shock.
He was staring, but not in the normal direction, at least, not at the usual head. Just a hint of the tip Riley’s jutting cock was peeking out through the front shirttails of Riley’s light indigo shirt. Just enough for Gunn to see a slight bead of moisture. Everyone was so busy laughing, and Riley was so busy not understanding, that Gunn’s stare went on as Riley pretended he got it and gave a reasonable copy of genuine laughter, which caused his shirt to shift, which meant he was waving proudly in the wind. God Bless America. Gunn looked away licking his lips and realized there were similar combinations of lust happening around the room, with only Xander – and clueless Riley – looking genuinely chagrined.
It seemed that Angel’s dislike of half of the room and unwillingness to compromise his trust and love for the half he cared about meant he was thinking. Thinking seriously about sire’s rights and how he hadn’t exercised them in a while. Of course his sire-ee was thinking about the brunette next to him, as he had been all night. Giles stubbed out his cigar, hard, patting the stake under the table and leering – yes, that is a leer, kids – at the younger watcher he seemed to have so much in common with.
Giles looked back to Xander from leering – yes, I was bloody leering – and said, “Oh, just open the bloody thing and scoot up under the table for crying out loud. It’s not as though you’re the only one in the room with a hard-on.”
More laughing, the anxiety in the room was at a fevered pitch. Pairs of eyes locking with pairs of eyes, waiting for flesh to actually show. In a room of seven men, the only items of clothing were their big shirts, each worn slightly differently. Spike wore his pastel red – bloody pink, he thought – shirt basically open, only three of the six buttons leaving work for the imagination. Wesley’s light blue shirt was buttoned up to the collar, Riley’s and Gunn’s shirts were both open at the top, but otherwise closed. The older watcher’s shirt was open to the middle of his chest, salt and pepper chest hair peeking out. Angel’s shirt was buttoned similarly, though his chest was smooth and unmarked by the hair that comes with the age that his body had never reached.
Xander’s shirt was fully buttoned, one button slipping out of one button hole about every five seconds as he squeezed his eyes tight as he could, trying to pretend the whole room wasn’t staring at him. He reached the last button, looked down at the head of his straining cock – clearly a good sized one, which made Xander less nervous, for just a moment – aiming straight up at him from behind the scant cover he still had. He looked around the room again, and sighed as his shirt fell open and he raised his hands behind his head, leaning back in the chair and raising his prick and balls and all of it into plain view.
The room fell quiet and gasped. There was silence for a long moment before Xander looked around, smirked nervously, slid back into his chair nevertheless much more confident than he’d leaned out of it, rolled up his sleeves – he had no intention of losing the shirt completely - picked up his hand of cards, which was three solid, and prepared to make his play.
Now
Spike lit a cigarette and licked his lips as he pulled the tiny smoking phallus from his lips.
He knew a phallus he’d rather have lips on as he stared at Xander’s cock, which, it seemed, was starting to flag now that it had been exposed. The boy’s tumescence was spectacular: not the largest cock Spike had ever seen, not by miles, but gorgeous nonetheless, and even as it started to falter, it was obviously hard as a rock. The small but thick and dark patch of hair at the base of it was practically begging to be tugged, and Spike would be damned if the ex-demon nuzzled her face back down there again before he did.
Angel openly gaped at Spike, his own cock straining at the lust on the blond vampire’s face. Angel hadn’t slipped inside that hot passage in over a century, and by his thinking it was about time he did.
There was no tittering at all among the men. Gunn and Riley’d rolled up their sleeves in an exact duplication of Xander, though their shirts were still buttoned, but for the grace of god. Wesley blushed as Giles – the legendary Ripper – continued to make eyes at him, but he knew if he succumbed to the instincts that his penis was operating from at that moment, that he’d lose what he’d been trying so hard to build with Angel: his family.
Wesley, still flushed, turned his gaze to Angel and realized that whatever happened in this room would likely stay down in it because even Wesley knew that Angel’s piercing gaze toward Spike meant only one thing, and that one thing was not allowed, unless it would never be spoken of again. Wesley grinned unconsciously, his head turning back to Giles. Giles winked.
The game was on.
Xander was absorbed in the hand of cards in front of him. Two red skips, one red 5. Xander’s thought process resembled something along the lines of: ‘Spike naked, Gunn naked, Spike naked, Gunn naked, Spike naked, Gunn naked, Spike naked, oh the hell with it…’ He thought for a moment longer, looking to his left, Spike, immediately next to him was grinning his pants off, er… Gunn, the next seat, was shaking his head ever so slightly. Xander couldn’t tell if Gunn was signaling that he wasn’t going to be opening his shirt or that he wasn’t going to be happy if Spike opened his. Xander hedged his bets and laid down a card.
The legs of Spike’s chairs skittered backwards across the concrete floor as he slid away from the table, turning himself and his chair around in one long motion. He stood, back facing the table, maybe two feet from Xander Harris’ and Charles Gunn’s and everyone else’s turned heads. All but Angel who only had to stare forward across the table.
 |
He pulled the front of the shirt up so that the neck hole and then some cradled around his shoulders and the tail dipped lower, removing his ass from sight but showing his neck in full and the top of his back, the muscles luminous in the dim basement light. When he was satisfied, by a sudden gasp from Xander, he began to unbutton the shirt. As each button opened, he pulled the front of the shirt up higher so more back was revealed. The tail of the shirt began to bunch and cup under his ass. The second button, which was also the second to last button, opened and the whole shirt slid down his arms and back, so that the only thing covered by the shirt was the bottom of his ass, the very place that had at first been the only really visible untoward area.
Xander and Angel sighed in unison and all the other men gawked.
Spike released the third, and last, button and with the sleeves bunched around his wrists, clasped his hands together over his ass, creating smooth lines of skin and revealing taut, strong hips. Xander hoped that Spike would turn around soon and have a tiny, tiny cock so his own aching hard-on would be let down, at least a little bit. But Spike began to raise his arms so that the sleeves of his shirt fell back down to bunch at his elbow and he turned slowly, cock in hand. Xander was let down at the sight before him, but his hard-on certainly wasn’t.
In Spike’s grip was a long, slender, tusk of an erection. The cock was ivory on the surface and dark red veins shot along just below the skin filling it to bursting with bartered blood. Spike squeezed it, just lightly, not straining at all, and the head of it rolled further out of it’s hiding place beneath his tight, thick foreskin.
Spike gauged Xander’s expression, got lost in the young man’s eyes, and without regard for the rest of the room said plainly, almost hopefully, “You wanna taste?”
Xander’s cock said yes, jumping at the question, and Xander unconsciously licked his lips, catching Angel’s eyes, as he turned back to the table. Spike’s cards were laying face down on the table and Xander wondered, absent mindedly, what new revelation lay within. Angel spoke up, eyeing Xander as if he were a road block, a dildo, or both.
“Just go put it in your mouth, boy. Roll it around on your tongue, and don’t bite,” Angel said, without a trace of irony or malice.
Xander’s control of verbal language was, at that moment, completely shot.
“Too right,” Giles said, pouring his glass of dark stout down his throat, casting a sideways glance at Xander.
Xander channeled all of the nervousness in the room through himself as he pushed his chair back, slightly, and stood – cock pointing out at the room accusingly – and turned to Spike, putting his hands on Spike’s shoulders and pushing him back from the table. He pushed them into a dark corner and stood there, holding his pelvis back so his cock wouldn’t brush Spike’s, and waited for a low murmur, some sign the other men weren’t focusing solely on Spike and Xander. When he was satisfied that all eyes weren’t trained on him, he whispered, “What are you doing, Spike?”
Spike, despite himself, whispered back, “Trying to bed you, luv. Here and now, right and proper, with god and Giles as my witness.”
Xander pulled his pelvis forward so he was standing up right and in that movement their cocks slid across one another. The clear pre-cum began to surge almost forcefully out of Xander with every movement – every time he unconsciously flexed the muscle at the base of his prick, a little more came out, and he was rubbing it gently over Spike’s hard, dry cock. Xander leaned down and kissed Spike’s neck as Spike’s hands reached up and into Xander’s shirt, pulling them closer together. Xander leaned up, bound by Spike’s embrace, his lips pressed to Spike’s ear.
“It won’t hurt, right? If you, y’know, do it. To me?” Xander said, and Spike’s eyes flew open – there was all kind of connotation there, but Spike knew not to say anything.
“You daft? The only way it’ll hurt is if you expect it to. I intend to lay you back on that table, climb up on you, rub our cocks together nice and hard for all to see, kiss you like you’ve never bloody been kissed, and fuck you so hard your cum hits his royal broodiness in the face.”
Xander smiled and dropped to his knees.
Angel could see, but strangely not hear, the act in the corner, the kiss, hug, drop to the knees dance that his blond vampire and the boy were doing. He squinted to see Xander’s lips ghost across the head of Spike’s cock. He gasped as he watched Xander swallow the cock to its root like a pro, head not moving, but the muscles in his neck and jaw pulsating and the flow of blood beneath his skin barreling around crazily inside him, making the kind of sense that only someone who lived off of that very blood could understand. Angel’s cock got harder and he didn’t notice as Giles clamored out of his chair and around Angel’s chair to get to Wesley. Angel’s cock got harder and harder and he didn’t notice that Gunn had leaned over and planted his head firmly in Riley’s lap.
When he did notice, his cock got harder again. He vowed to himself never to speak a word of this to anyone, and he put his hands behind his head, mimicking Xander’s earlier movement, and grinned like the big bad wolf waiting for his meal of grandma and little red riding-hood…
Riley’s hands traced the contours of Gunn’s smooth head as that mouth plunged up and down on Riley’s cock.
Giles took Wesley by the arms, noted that the comparatively scrawny watcher had hardened a bit since his days on the hellmouth, and guided him up out of the chair. The hardest parts of them grazed through the flapping fronts of their shirts and Wesley, former head boy, whimpered slightly. Giles smiled at that, craned his head forward slowly, kissing Wesley so hard and soft and insistent and patiently that Wesley whimpered again and his cheeks flushed deeper than they had before.
Giles dropped his hands down to the front of Wesley’s shirt, began unbuttoning it from the bottom, then moved his hands over to his own shirt, kissing a shocked and appreciative Wesley. Wesley leaned his head back as he felt Giles’ erection squeezed tight against his own and Giles’ hands wrapped around them both. Giles looked at Wesley’s eyes, squeezed tight, and then down at their hard-ons. He felt a brief flash of Ripper pride when he realized he still had a mighty fine prick even after all the years that had gone by, and that Wes’, while not the thick, heavy bar that Giles’ was, was nonetheless lovely, thinner and paler and nearly the same length as Giles’.
Riley stared to his left, focused intently on the cocks and hands wrapped around the cocks of the two watchers. Buffy’s father figure and the other one who’d failed with both slayers, wrapped up in the simple experience of each other. Riley’s right hand squeezed tightly on Gunn’s neck, refused to let him up anytime soon, and before he knew what he was doing his left hand wandered across the space between he and Wesley to the younger watcher’s back, lifting the back of the shirt slightly and running his hands down the shallow cleft of Wesley’s smallish ass, not so much exploring as encouraging, and sure enough the watcher spread his legs slightly.
Giles realized what was going on, and batted Riley’s hand away – this is mine, Ripper thought - and turned Wesley around so that Giles’ cock took the place of Riley’s hand in the shallow canyon. Riley looked down, momentarily shamed, and when he looked up again Angel was grinning at him, having seen the whole exchange, and pulled his right hand from behind his head, straightening his arm down, mimicking Riley’s movements onto the back of Giles’ shirt, then tracing down the line of Giles’ ass. Giles’ legs spread slightly and he made no move to bat the vampire away. Riley’s jaw was slack and Angel just grinned, withdrew his hand, and reached across the table, placing his index and middle fingers against Riley’s lips and nodding his head slightly, still grinning. Riley licked, then sucked the fingers into his mouth for a moment, greasing them up with the water of himself. Angel withdrew the hand from Riley’s lips and again reached down toward Giles’ ass.
A moment later Giles’ grip on Wesley’s cock tightened and his eyes flew open as wide as they had in all the years since prep school. A moment after that, there hadn’t been a smile as big on his face in that same amount of time.
As Angel fingerfucked Giles his cock grew harder and he opened his shirt, beginning to fist the thick pole he revealed.
Riley looked away from Angel, focusing on the dark head doing amazing things to his cock. His grip loosened and Gunn pulled up, smiling, saying the first words in a long time.
“I can’t believe you haven’t…” Gunn started.
Riley shook his head, it was clear that speaking, in this space, was of the bad. Instead, Riley stood up and walked into the corner of the basement that was as under the stairs as it got in Sunnydale. He stepped onto a box and reached across the top shelf, pulling a cigar box from the far corner. He padded back to the table, aware of faint panting in the corner where Spike and Xander had become an indistuishable mass of skin and cloth and hands and hair, trying not to stare at the watchers and Angel’s hand and that grin… He placed the box on the table, and crossed his arms, gesturing for Gunn to open it.
Gunn had to fight back a laugh at the sight: a buttplug, only four inches long but with a serious circumference, and an assortment of condoms and a few small bottles of lube. The box opening grabbed the attention of the room. Spike and Xander appeared, hand in hand, at one side of the table, and the watchers and Angel stilled and turned their heads but otherwise did not move. Spike immediately reached in, grabbed a bottle of lube and disappeared with Xander back into the shadows. Gunn palmed the buttplug, decided that each inch of length was easy a pound of weight, and chuckled, tossing the five pound plug at Angel, who seemed to go deep into thought while he held it, his thinking ended as a small bottle of lube followed it through the air and landed in his lap.
Riley grabbed a condom out of the box too, and began to peel open the wrapper. Gunn stilled him, looked into Riley’s eyes and they both knew. Gunn pushed the box to the side, grabbing a bottle of lube and pushed Riley down onto the table, face first – Riley’s ass seemed to almost float in the air of its own will and Gunn’s breath hitched for a moment as he looked at the smooth, hairless passage. Gunn thought, wonder if the ass waxing is government issue, yo, and then lubed up his bare cock, rolled the condom down over his slick shaft and then lubed up the outside of the sheath.
He began a slow-fisted pump of his cock, just to keep it from flagging, and began to dance fingers around Riley’s entrance, hesitating, finally he rested a finger, just there, just over the hole and waited to make up his mind. In a moment the decision was made for him as Riley relaxed completely and the barest movement of the digit slid it to the hilt inside Riley. They both moaned.
Gunn repeated himself with two fingers then three, sure that was enough, and pressed his cock to Riley’s hole. Gunn’s body focused on the sensation and he was inside. Riley whispered a word too faint for Gunn to hear as stars crackled and popped behind his eyes…
“Forrest…”
Giles started to raise off of Angel’s fingers, started to move away, stroking Wes’ cock, sucking hard on the back of that neck, which was darker than any other skin on the man, but Angel tapped him on the hip quickly with his free hand, which then disappeared as quickly as it appeared, and stilled him. Giles pulled his mouth off of Wes’ neck, turning his head to look at Angel. The hand that had just tapped Giles’ hip was guiding the buttplug in and out of Angel. The vampire was fucking himself while he fingered Giles. Giles’ cock gave a jump and Angel stilled himself.
Angel smiled and grunted as he hit the spot in himself again, felt the flash of pleasure, and pulled it all the way out. He raised it and slid it into the hand that had two fingers of itself up Giles. Angel worked out one finger so he had one finger in Giles, and was otherwise palming the buttplug, which he then began to slide up the finger already inside, used the finger to guide, until the tip of the buttplug was inside. The sudden extra girth, and the feel of weight pressing into him, made Giles shudder hard, and then, as he adjusted to the idea, Angel pushed the thing all the way into him and Giles’ eyes saw nothing but black and he lost a moment of time.
He came to in a chair. Caught a glimpse of a kiss – Wes and Angel – that looked like the only genuine emotion he’d seen so far. Then Angel was rolling a condom over the real reason Giles was called ‘Ripper’ and kissing Giles so hard and whispering something quietly into his ear and Giles thought, Angel’s being rather attentive of everyone, champion my arse, er, my arse… my god. And Wesley was sliding down onto Giles and he only saw black again for a moment as he clenched hard around the buttplug still inside him.
“Never forget that Wesley is mine,” Angel had said, and just as Giles realized that’s what Angel had said, and just as soon as he remembered that’s what Angel had said, Wesley began to ride harder, facing out to the rest of the room, and Giles could only hold onto Wes’ hips and throw his head back and try not to scream too loud.
Riley was lost.
His heart was beating and his cock was hard. He didn’t know where he was. There was someone inside him. No one had been there, no one had known about that, for months since… Died, and but here, now he realized he was on his back, and he realized there were two people inside of him. One in him, one in his mouth. His head was propped on the box he’d pulled from the shelf and Forr… Gunn was in his mouth, he knew that, tasted it, and he knew it and tasted it and sucked harder, more ferociously, the identity melting into another identity. He didn’t know.
Riley sucked hard as he could and he was lost in where he was. He was lost in himself, in who was in him. He popped Gunn’s cock out of his mouth for a moment, felt it hit his cheek as he tried to lift the man partway off him so he could see around it, but he was pinned, then he looked up into Gunn’s face that was trying not to grin too big. And Gunn again was the first to really speak outloud.
“The city wins again, Iowa,” Gunn said, looking into Riley’s eyes and they knew.
Riley felt his legs rise from 45 degrees to 90 and felt soft kisses along his calf. Felt a pinch, felt a heat there. Felt the thrusting in him intensify.
Riley didn’t cry. Couldn’t, but he said the word again. Said it out loud, no one in the room knew what it meant. No one in the room could know.
“Forrest.”
And the thrusting became a pounding and the heat on his calf cooled, slowly, but still pinched and he sucked Gunn’s cock back down into him, forced himself to swallow, clench his throat around the long cock which was so much like and nothing like what he was used to.
“That’s a fucked up scene,” whispered.
“Yeah, luv, it is. Want you inside me again. Can you…” whispered back.
A sleeve tugged, arm moved, hand guided to the answer.
“Yeah, think I’ll manage somehow,” whispered, pause. “Question?”
“Yeah, luv?”
“What about, what you said before? Hitting his royal broodiness in the face with my spunk?”
Chuckle, slightly louder than a whisper, eye contact, “Tripe, luv. Bollocks. Pious villainous posturing. Another time though, right?”
A pair of quiet laughs as the American rolled the vampire onto his back and pushed back into the tight, wet body that the American was pretty sure was becoming his to do this with.
Angel pulled out of Riley, unfinished, but fully done.
Gunn lifted Riley’s head slightly, grabbed another rubber from the box, climbed down Riley’s body, off the table, slid the new sheath down his cock, harder than it had been all night, and then slid himself back into Riley’s eager, well oiled opening. And began the climb to the top, he was in the home stretch with not much further to go, he took Riley’s hard-on in hand and started pumping in time to his thrusts…
Angel checked on Wesley and Giles, feeling both his guardianship of and his pride for the younger watcher. The man’s body had become both more taut and more lithe, almost a dancer’s form in the few months they’d been fighting side by side. No, Wesley would never be the muscle, but he could easily be the grace and beauty.
The look on Wes’ face was sex. He grimaced happily at the being that was inside him, that he was riding so hard he thought he might rip in half, might tear a dimensional portal and find himself trapped in a world of sexual abandon. Or maybe that had already happened, for once, Wesley couldn’t form a thought, wouldn’t dare hypothesize except to acknowledge that a huge cock was pounding him from underneath and his vampire was licking his balls, moving his face up and down, keeping the rhythm, never pulling wrong, then taking Wes’ cock deep down his throat so that as Wes rose and fell on Ripper’s cock he was fucking the face of his vampire.
Giles’ entire sense of universe had devolved – evolved? He wondered – into a series of erotic sensations. There was nothing, Giles knew, if there was not this, and he pushed up, in, harder and felt Angel wander away from them and knew that he wouldn’t have much longer to go, knew that Wesley had gone, had felt the pull and squeeze of it, knew that Wesley still could not stop, that the cock in front of him, just out of his reach, was just as hard as when they started…
Angel sauntered across the basement to Spike. And Xander. He moved slowly, truly on the prowl and with every step, every footfall, his cock swung in a smaller and smaller radius as it hardened on his approach. He stopped for a moment, a yard from the bodies, Spike’s legs wrapped around Xander’s waist, squeezing hard, but not too hard, pulling the boy into him and Angel’s jealousy raged for a moment, then ebbed. He was too hard, too anxious, too ready to have nothing, and if the only way for him to have Spike here, now, was to have him through Xander, then he would.
Xander’s thrusts were furious. His hand was wrapped around the hard shaft that Angel had wanted to suck every last ounce out of and his ass was in the air, his shirt pulled up off of his ass by the furious forward, backward, forward again motion which was slow and hard and hot and Spike struggled against the urge to bite the boy then and there.
Xander felt a momentary breeze against his backside, the slight movement of air that accompanied the body kneeling in behind him. Then he felt hands on his hips, stroking the hard muscle there that ran down – the jockstrap line, Xander thought – to the most likely place of entrance at a time like this. His breath hitched, and he pushed in deeper, squeezing his ass as hard as he could as he felt a wet, insistent finger trace across that spot. Xander was boring a hole into Spike with his eyes, but the vampire’s eyes were locked on his sire’s eyes and some kind of understanding was reached. Spike blinked, and wrapped his arms around Xander’s neck, pulling the boy’s body down on top of him and kissing him. Spike moved his mouth to the boy’s ear.
“’Member what I said before, luv?” Still whispered.
Xander nodded against Spike’s shoulder, the finger still against his opening, helped by lube and his own sweat.
“Only hurts if ‘at’s what you expect. D’you expect that, pet?”
Xander bit his lip and Spike smelled the blood, shifted into game face.
“Shhh… Let it go, pound it into me, luv. Luv, look at me, let it go.”
And Xander started going harder and then something harder was against him, and Spike clenched, squeezed hard around Xander, and the body behind Xander’s – Angel’s body – made its way inside the boy’s tight hot channel.
Angel’s cock throbbed inside Xander who sighed. Spike’s grip on Xander’s back relented and Angel pulled Xander to his chest, only the sweat soaked shirt – sleeves still rolled up – stood between back and chest. Angel held the three of them still for a long moment, working, slowly, as Xander relaxed, the whole of his shaft inside Xander. When all of Angel was inside Xander, Angel said, “Squeeze tight boy,” and guided the movement, keeping his cock firmly inside Xander who was almost limp from the entry, but moving Xander’s cock in and out of Spike.
Xander thought, is this what it’s supposed to be like? But he couldn’t know. Angel was using Xander, pressed together, locked together, their positions unchanging, Angel felt everything Xander felt and as Spike squeezepulled Xander’s cock into him, Xander did the same to Angel. They moved that way for long minutes, slowly, in and out of Spike, until Xander started moving independently, trying to hold Angel back slightly as he slid into Spike and then ground back up onto Angel. This, Angel decided, was better, and he froze as much into place as he could, fucking the boy without work while the boy fucked Spike.
And none of them had that much time left to go…
Xander pushed himself flush against Spike, still fisting that beautiful cock, once ivory, now red from rubbing and coming and refilling too many times too quickly, and Spike locked down, and Xander pulled Angel’s hips forward, pulled Angel inside him, pushed him again, then pulled him back. Angel got it and started fucking Xander while he was deep inside Spike. Then Xander started rocking his hips in and out gently, rubbing over and over against the spot deep inside that made things good. Then the gentleness of the rocking gave way and became a violent echo of the riding that Angel was delivering to Xander’s ass.
Angel reached up and pulled the collar of Xander’s shirt down and back so it started to slide down and off Xander, exposing the hard muscle of the boy’s back. It almost slipped off and then Xander was aware that he wasn’t holding his own weight anymore, not above the waist, that Angel was holding him up, the shirt knotted up into a handle, and that Spike’s legs had gone around them both, at least as far as they could reach, his heels digging into Angel’s hips like saddle stirrups…
Giles leaned up, pulling Wesley down, all the way down, onto him. Wesley hadn’t known a person could feel that impaled and not only live through it, but never want to feel anything else again. He was sure that he was a living mold of Giles’ cock, he could feel each swollen vein, each throb of pulse that hammered its way from Giles’ heart, through his arms and legs and back to his cock, the focal point – life support system for a cock, indeed, Wes thought and with that, felt a sudden throb, a specific one, one that was accompanied by Ripper’s stream of obscenities, curses, promises, and blasphemies emerging from that throat and the way his own second orgasm was suddenly wrenched out of him by the overstimulation of his – prostate, sweetspot, prostate, sweetspot – the smooth hand that roughly tugged at him…
Riley’s eyes were closed and all he could feel was the push and pull of the long cock that kept working him inside out and then suddenly all the other shit was gone and all he could see was the face he wanted to, he was locked in himself and screaming, “Forrest, Forrest, Forrest…” And Gunn didn’t get it, but Gunn didn’t care, and Gunn came hard, spurred on by the screaming squeezing clenching orgasm beneath his…
Spike came first, a fourth wash of semen across his chest for the night, and a tight pull in and Xander came second, a fourth wash of semen deep inside Spike for the night, and a tight pull in and Angel came last, longest, and hardest, pulled against the suction of the very-nearly virgin ass and fought it for a long moment, but succumbed, a first, thick deep wash of semen inside Xander for the night, maybe ever, and he suddenly felt full and Angel wasn’t backing away he was pushing Xander down, still grinding his hips and Xander ground his hips and Spike ground back up and soon they were ready to go again…
The basement was dark when Xander woke up, shreds of a light orange shirt dangling from each of his arms, wrapped up in two cool bodies, and he remembered where he was, and what happened, and knew it had to be the morning and knew what that was supposed to mean. Angel’s arm was draped across Xander’s back tracing lazy lines across Spike’s hip just below where Xander’s own arm rested across Spike’s belly.
He turned his head up, chin on chest, and looked at Spike’s face. The vampire smiled deeply and pulled Xander up so his head rested proper on the side of his body. Angel, leaned up, looked around, realized why the floor just right here wasn’t as hard and cold as a basement floor should be and started fishing around in the duster that was laid out, like a throw rug. He came up with what he was looking forward, and Spike and Xander heard the click and turned as one unit to Angel.
Laughter emerged from both of them, as smoke from the end of the cigarette trailed around Angel’s fingers and into the already dim and smoky basement. Angel’s shirt, light green and wide open looked no worse for the wear, and Xander marveled at that for a moment, then looked down at Spike who was shirtless, a questioning look on his sated face.
“Dunno, luv. Guess I lost the bloody pink thing. Whoops,” Spike said, no more whispering than ever.
Angel laughed quietly, almost giggled, and looked around the room. Gunn and Riley were under the table, Gunn spooning Riley from behind, both of them asleep. The humor of the moment briefly left Angel as he looked for Wesley. He could see Giles, asleep on his back on the table, his legs hanging off the edge very near Riley and Gunn’s heads.
“Wes?” Angel spoke into the dim quiet, passing the cigarette to Spike.
“I’m here…” Wesley whispered, “Angel.”
Angel turned his head to the wall he leaned against, looked far down it and saw Wesley leaning on the wall, his legs spread and caught the trace suggestion of blood. Wesley’s shirt hung off him limply. It had soaked through and dried and soaked through and lost all of its freshness. Angel was on his knees behind Wesley’s before he’d even finished saying Angel’s name.
He surveyed the damage, a knot of flesh that was bruised, though not as badly bruised as it could have been, given the size of, well, Ripper. There was a slow, steady stream of blood drifting down the inner thigh of Wesley’s left leg and wrapping around to the front from the angle at which Wesley leaned. Wes heard the shift of Angel’s face, but felt no fear as a tongue moved deftly up from his knee, up and across his thigh, to the place that was swollen – the source of the pain – and laving there, gently.
Angel smiled, “Wes, we can fix this, easy. Promise.” The blood and the view hardened Angel’s cock once more and he stood up, pulling back his foreskin, rolling it right so his head was fully exposed, and pressing it to the source of Wesley’s discomfort.
“An… gel. I can’t…”
“Shhh. Spike said one thing I agree with tonight: let it go, Wes. Let it go into me, onto me.”
And Angel took Wesley for the first time, the hotness, the wetness overpowering his already sensitive and swollen glans and he came inside Wesley, his second orgasm of the night washing over everything inside Wesley that felt wrong, and Wesley’s legs stiffened as he came over the wall upon which he leaned, and he realized it already hurt less. Angel hovered for a moment, still inside, spent, but not wanting to move at all, then withdrew slowly – Wesley gasped – and kneeled down.
The gentle penetration had roughened the already exhausted passage and the trickle of blood resumed. This time Angel caught it before it even fell properly, and he licked at it, not swallowing, just bearing it back to the place it came from, and Angel rimmed Wesley, slowly, gently, purring as he went, holding onto Wesley’s hips so Wes felt the vibration in the low center of him and up through his sides and hips and down into his legs, and with the vibration and the slow low tongue bath it came to Wesley that he didn’t hurt at all anymore. Angel watched the tiny pucker blossom out and then recoil back into the tight bud it was supposed to be – to make sure, Angel thought – before he moved.
Angel stood and Wesley turned to meet him, but met air instead. He found Angel across the basement at the makeshift bar, swigging whiskey and spitting it back into a glass. Wes smiled and closed his eyes. He started to sigh and found he couldn’t for the mouth that was pressed gently against his own. They stood that way for a long moment, pale blue and pale green shirts, pressed against each other topping off pale legs, which, even standing, wanted nothing more than to entertwine.
Spike and Xander watched the whole interaction, saw the love that had come from what seemed like nowhere and blossomed in that one small moment, and then looked at each other and felt the same way. Xander leaned up and kissed Spike again.
“Y’know, luv, we are going to have to deal with this. There’ll be, explaining, ramifications…” Spike started.
Xander surveyed the room while his head was up – felt a moment of pity for Riley and really no one else – and smiled as he laid his head back down on Spike’s chest.
“We have a fool proof defense though, buddy,” Xander said.
“Oh, yeah?” Spike had to hear this.
“I figure it’s really pretty simple. The game was going along as planned, we were all getting used to the idea of being ass naked around each other and preparing ourselves to not get unfashionably aroused at the wedding, when all realized we were wearing the gayest shirts ever.”
“So, luv, what you’re saying is we use the gay shirt defense?” Spike said.
“That’s exactly it, the shirts were just, so… gay, that we had no choice but to throw a mad brilliant orgy and fuck each other’s brains out until the break of day,” Xander said, still smiling. “I know Will’ll understand, except I think for her it was more of a gay crystal, or a gay bodice or something, but it’s like a fool proof defense, I mean, who could’ve possibly done different, y’know?”
“Yeah, luv… I know exactly what you mean.”
The End
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