This is the result of too much sugar compounded with some hilarious lines exchanged via lj comments.
Rating: R-ish
Pairing: Spander of course
Warning: Pure PWP with no redeeming social or moral values
Spoilers: Eh, none really. Ok who am I kidding? Starts right after ADAM was defeated, as the Scoobies start discussing their dreams. Specific much?
Author's Note: It's not my fault, honest! Blame Amejisuto if you need a scapegoat. She's the one who had me snorting my pilfered soda and making a mess all over the monitor. Carbonated sugar water type mess - get your dirty minds back up to gutter level, people!
Disclaimer: If I were making any profit from this sorta crap, I'd have enough cash to take my ex to court and make him pay child support :P
Don't wanna hear anyone complain, beg, nag, or otherwise harass the redhead (that would be me) over our bleached incubus' name. It'll be explained in later chapters
Dream Lover
by
Rowaine
Part One
Joining the cute little redhead and her girlfriend as they enter the shop, Xander has to suppress a shiver. The previous night's dream just would not fade away like most. If anything, it kept getting more clear; little pieces of information surfacing the longer he thought it over. With a definite mental scream, he pushes such ponderings aside to deal with whatever new danger his hometown is facing.
"Ah good, you're all here. Buffy, if you would please join us at the table?" Giles indicates an empty spot to his right, adjusts his glasses, then glances at each person present. "This question may seem a bit... odd. But please do give it your full attention. Have any of you been experiencing disturbing dreams of late?"
Willow pales and gives a soft cry, muffling her face in Tara's shoulder.
Buffy mutters curses under her breath.
Giles looks uncomfortable. More so than usual.
Xander turns several shades of red, burrowing his head in his arms.
"I'll take that as a yes then, shall I? Right, we should look for a common theme. Let's begin with a short summary and work our way from there. Death and betrayal highlighted my experience late last night."
"I had an encounter with the first slayer. And some guy pushing smelly cheese." She manages to say it with a straight face, but clearly Buffy is just as nervous as her watcher.
"Umm.. same as Giles, with a heavy dose of rejection." Willow's voice is very small.
Feeling all eyes on him, Xander takes a deep breath and hopes he could bluff this one. "Mine started out that way," with a nod to the Brit, "but it... morphed. And no, I won't tell you into what. Let's just say that I've never been so glad to be male in my life, ok?"
And once again, the Xanman breaks the tension surrounding his adopted family. Snickers from the girls, and an embarassed throat-clearing from Giles. Not bad for not trying.
Little else was accomplished, other than warnings of 'be careful and stay alert', per the course. Xander walks the girls back toward UCSunnydale, then heads back to his dismal basement. At least he has a nifty new lock, so his parents can't bug him too much.
A hot shower and microwave pizza later, he stretches out on his couch bed and idly flips through channels. Nothing to see really, but it keeps the room from becoming depressingly silent.
Before long, he slips into a heavy doze, and feels the beginnings of a 'not right' dream begin.
~ Boy! Get your worthless hide up here before I have to come after you...
Nonononooooo not going there again, know better this time. Just a dream, only a dream.~
Cool fingers grip his arm in a strong clasp, dragging him away from the angry figure of his drunken father. The basement door shuts and locks loudly, then he's maneuvered back to the bed where strong hands soothe his aches and tensed muscles. Up across his chest, following the lines of his arms down toward his waist, skimming hips to kneed the knots out of his thighs and calves, never pushing too hard.
A little warning in his subconscious flares, reminding him that this is *supposed* to be a dream, but he has valid evidence that it's so much more. His mind drifts toward the land of the living, though his body refuses to twist away from those talented hands.
It's been almost three weeks now, since that first (disturbing) dream. Only not so disturbing anymore. He's grown to enjoy, even look forward to them. His dream lover anticipates when he wants it hard and fast, or when he wants to take it slow, or even when he wants to try a new kink. And isn't that a pleasant thought to have just before joining the girls for lunch?
Only now he doesn't have to wait for his own personal incubus to save him from the beginnings of a nightmare. Buffy took care of the problem, fighting the first slayer in the dream world. And how's that for cheerfully bizar? So now everyone's free to sleep and deal with standard subconscious messages. He has to wonder exactly what message he's being sent, loudly and often.
Item one on the worries list: Invisible person macking on him, and definite inviso-hands touching naughty parts.
Item two: Invisible person has a deep rumbling chuckle, very masculine.
Item three: See last part of Item two!
Item four: See Item three!!
Oh sure, he's been curious a time or two. What guy hasn't? But he's never felt the urge to test drive a standard, y'know?
Part Two
Two days after the meeting at the Magic Box, the nightmares are over. Buffy had conquered the first slayer, and is still in a funk over death being her 'gift'.
Beyond any residual weirdness, life moves on. Xander can't quite feel displeased that his nightly visitor wasn't banished along with the dreams.
Thinking back to the first appearance, he sees a pattern forming -- one that both unnerves and excites him.
~ First night ~ The terror of his subconscious is halted by soothing hands gently stroking his shoulders and petting his hair, a ghostly hug.
~ Second night ~ The nightmare is interrupted again, with a tender massage to chase away the tension.
~ Third night ~ His dream barely gets started before he's pulled into a hot shower. A full soap-down massage and hair washing follows.
~ Fourth night ~ His sensual savior runs late, but Buffy's fight stops the process -- leaving Xander's full attention on a different type of massage. It doesn't take long for him to figure out that hands have been replaced with a cool, moist tongue.
By this time, most of his reservations about enjoying his invisible lover are surpassed by an intense longing; he's never felt it quite this strongly for anyone before now. His only problem remains the gender of the entity.
~Fifth night ~ Hands and mouth map his body, culminating in the best fucking blow job of his life, leaving him quietly chanting "bring on the gay sex."
By the end of the second week, he will happily admit to craving the feelings and sensations of his personal incubus, and at the end of the third, he decides to stop playing passive.
Sunset falls and Xander leaves work in great anticipation of tonight's visit. He stops by the local discount store and loads a cart, racing through the checkout toward home.
Regardless of his somewhat goofy smile, Xander is far from stupid. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that whatever or whoever his visitor is, it's not a figment of imagination or dream. And a part of him knows that there's more to this. Not a haunting, although the hands and lips (and other parts he refuses to acknowledge) are cool. Not a possession -- heh, he'd definitely know something about that. So he's stuck referring to his visitor as an incubus, and isn't that just too strange? For all of the weird hellmouthy things that have happened to him, Xander has a hard time accepting the idea that a sexual demon chose to attach itself to him, the Zeppo. Not that he's going to complain.
So, arms laden, he quickly cleans and sets the scene -- candles glowing, giving off the faint scent of cinnamon; cold beer and wine chilling in a bucket, with his only two matching glasses nearby; mellow jazz music playing in the background. He showers and slips into clean drawstring pants and a t-shirt, then curls up on his sofa bed to wait.
The sound of glasses clinking together rouses him from a light doze. He has no idea how long he's slept, but the candles are barely half melted.
Taking a deep breath, he talks to the empty space near the ice bucket. "Hey, I don't know why you chose me, or what you're getting out of this -- other than the obvious -- but maybe we could, I dunno, maybe talk or something? Seems really cold to be enjoying so much of your *cough* time and energy, without getting to know you some. Otherwise it feels like... paying for someone to... like a prostitute. And I'm probably blushing and babbling now, so I'll just shut up and let you decide."
For several long minutes, Xander tries to sit patiently, praying he hasn't royally screwed up. Finally, he feels the barely-there touch of cool, soft lips brushing against his forehead. He turns into the touch, lifting his face, eyes closed, to offer his mouth.
Somehow he knows that his visitor wants him to keep his eyes shut. Doesn't mean his other senses can't be used.
The scent of cinnamon fills the air, allowing merely the slightest hint of musk and something vaguely metalic, a fact that is confirmed by his taste buds.
Other than his own rapid heartbeat and breathing, he hears only the glide of fabric as two bodies shift together.
Most overwhelming in the deprivation of sensory input is touch. Each time his hands make contact with flesh, they are diverted. Strong fingers force his hands to his own body, stroking across his thighs and chest in random patterns that are slowly driving him mad with lust.
"Please..." He doesn't know what he's asking for exactly, just that there was *more*.
From somewhere just elow his, a soft voice murmurs, "You have but to ask."
Only he doesn't know what to ask for. "Anything. Everything."
Another chuckle, felt more than heard, reverberates against his neck. "You're leaving yourself wide open, lover. Sure you don't want to be a tad more specific?"
The low tones used give no indication of accent or age, but do confirm gender. And not even that tidy little fact deters Xander from taking the next step.
"Would you... would you make love ot me?" He's so far past questions now, rolling in a tidal wave of desire.
A sharp intake of air -- the first sign of his lover's respiration -- followed by another quiet chuckle.
"You don't go for half measures, do you love?"
Gentle hands smooth his t-shirt up his chest, linguring on his nipples before smoothing the thin fabric off his head. Xander tries to assist, but his efforts are stopped with a deep, searing kiss.
Pulling back for the young man to breathe, that honeyed voice admonishes, "Let me call the shots tonight, lover. Your first time should be all about pleasure, for *your* pleasure."
And through the fog of his lust-riddled brain, Xander knows that's wrong. "Uh uh," he gasps, breaking off the latest kiss -- incredible, soul-melting, toes-curling kiss -- to add, "our pleasure. Should be for us both."
"Mmm, so it should," the reply almost purred at his shoulder, while that talented mouth rains kisses across the expanse of his upper body. "Tell me, love, what would you like us to do?"
He's not so far gone that he can't answer the question... yet. His voice soft, almost meek, Xander asks, "Can I touch you, please?"
Another one of those pauses that makes him worry that he's done something wrong. Finally, "Of course you can. Let's just get more comfortable first, shall we?"
The rest of Xander's clothes are removed and he feels himself being manhandled onto the bed. Weight shifts beside him, but he's disappointed when no cool body lays down. Instead, candles are extinguished and more sounds of cloth shifting. He's just about to ask... something.
The bed dips to his right, and he curls up against a human-shaped mass. And yes, he's got dozens of questions to ask, his common sense screaming to know just what he's giving himself to, but when his hands come in contact with marble-smooth skin and hard, sculpted lines of muscle, he just can't bring himself to spoil the mood.
Opening his eyes doesn't feel like cheating anymore, and in the absolute darkness of the room he can almost pretend that there's no invisibility, only the excitement of a first time with his new lover.
Pulling back, he heads to the foot of the bed, feeling his way down the body before him. Strong toes, high arches, delicate ankles, defined calves, all receive his attention. First with long strokes of his hands, then tentative brushes of lips and tongue. Sucking the sensative backs of his lover's knees gets the first low moan, and he works to repeat that gesture of praise. His hands cover powerful thighs, marvelling at the strength he can feel in such a slight package, but he veers off before landing in unfamiliar territory. He skims lightly across a firm abdomen, dancing his tongue inside dips and across the plains of ribbed muscle. A narrow chest, nowhere near as broad as his own, and small peaked nipples -- nipping them provokes another moan, almost a growl. He drags his hands down across shoulders and arms, grasping those hands that have given him so much comfort and pleasure, licking along each finger and sucking them into his warm mouth.
But when he moves to finish his exploration of the other's body, attempting to map his face, his efforts are called to a halt. "Enough, lover," comes the gruff response. "My turn."
Abruptly, their positions are reversed, leaving Xander flat on his back in full body contact with all of the parts he's just tasted, touched. And isn't it somehow more... intimate, learning a person by touch alone? Eyes can play tricks, as he's discovered too many times. Fingers, lips, flesh, these are real. Very hard and very real, if the answering erection pressed to his hip is anything to go by.
This mouth has touched practically all of his body. This tongue has tasted his flesh, his cum. These hands have delivered untold pleasure, and held him so gently when he most needed reassurance. A part of his mind recognizes the danger he's in, too close to falling in love, without knowing anything about his lover. His heart quickly stamps down on that worry, ordering him to only feel, accept the tender care he's being offered.
And apparently, his neck is a focal point for numerous nerve endings, because that clever mouth is causing all sorts of spontaneous combustions just from suckling at his pulse point. Fingers lightly pinch and tweak his nipples, grounding him as he floats in euphoric splendor. One of those muscular thighs slips between his own, both an offer and an invitation. He can't answer fast enough -- he spreads his legs, curling one around the cool body above him, pulling and trying to reposition it.
Through his muddled state, he can barely hear the lust-thickened voice. "So lovely, eager and responsive. Want to show you everything. How to play your body so it quivers with desire. See your face the first time I slip inside you. You're going to welcome me in, aren't you love? Get you so ready, so needy, that I just slide right in."
And that, he firmly decides, is exactly what he wants.
"Yes, please. Take me, make me yours." Where the words come from, he can't say, just that they seem right. And they must be a trigger of some sort, judging from the reaction of his lover.
A shudder spreads over his entire body, leaving him panting lightly into Xander's neck. "Love, you're incredible. And way too trusting. But I'm not going to turn down the offer. Really want me, lover?"
He thinks about that, pushing aside what few worries he has about the unknown aspects, and decides that he truly does want it all. Whoever and whatever is in his bed right now has had three weeks to damage him. Spells and curses and wishes aren't the only ways of harming someone, especially on the hellmouth. All he's received at the hands of his unseen lover has been good. With a decisive nod, he answers in a firm voice, "Yes, all of you."
The building tension flows out of the cool body above him, melting them together in relief.
One brain cell kicks in enough that Xander finds himself asking, "What can I call you?"
Another pause, then, "What would you like to call me?"
"Huh, how bout your name?"
Low chuckle. "Silly boy, don't you know that to know a demon's true name is to hold incredible power over them?"
In the dark, Xander blinks, thinking. Alright, he suspected the demon part, no surprise there. But this seems like another kind of test. Inspiration strikes: "Seems only fair, since you hold so much over me already. Meet me halfway?"
Thoughtful silence envelops him as he awaits the crucial answer. At first, it had seemed such a simple question. A name, what you call your friend or neighbor, something you say across the dining room table, a way of greeting someone you know. But he realizes how right his lover is -- even for a mortal, knowing a person's name gives you some power, can be used for or against, good or evil. He's just about to revoke his request.
"I was first called Jamie, if you would like to use that moniker. It's been... a long time since I last answered to that, but it suits this situation better."
"Uh, cryptic much?" Xander snips his confusion. "I understand having different names for different reasons. Hell, all my friends call me Xander, but my co-workers usually use Harris, and my folks scream either Alexander or boy." He's pretty sure he could get addicted to that rumbling chuckle. "Hey, would you like to pick a different name for me? Since I'll be using one you don't normally answer to anymore..."
Fingers dancing idly along the human's torso, the demon also known as Jamie hums into his throat. "And more power even in naming something, creating new life in a way. Do you know what you offer, or is it instictive, I wonder."
That question requires more brain cells than are currently residing in his 'big head', but Xander gives it a try. He's always wondered about it too, since he rarely paid much attention during research parties, but usually got away with only a few bruises or a mild concussion. Was it some sort of survival instinct, directing him toward the correct response? Or maybe just that he's hellmouth born and raised? Could be that he soaked up some demony knowledge by osmosis during all those naps atop the moldy tomes at Giles'. Whatever, he refuses to worry about it now.
"Probably a little of both," he finally answers. "You aren't here to hurt me, that much I know. If you were, you'd have done something by now -- spit in my dinner, glued my toes together, called in a wandering band of gremlins to strip me of spare parts. Since you started hanging around, you've saved me from nightmares about... bad bad stuff. You've held me and comforted when no one else even knew I needed it. And let's not forget the part about turning me into a large pile of Xander-shaped goo. My body responds better to you than it even does for me, and I've known it longer dammit. So I'm not sure what it is that you really want from me besides a body to enjoy, but I think I can trust you not to hurt me."
A soft sigh. "Oh love, you don't know how many ways you can be hurt. Psychological pain is much harder to overcome than physical."
"Speaking from experience? Yeah, been there, done that, got the t-shirt. Welcome brother, we've been expecting you."
"Huh? I mean, excuse me?"
Chuckling, he tries to explain, "Heard it from some Dungeons and Dragons geeks a few years back. When they recognize someone who would fit in with their group, they'd say something like that. Anyways, dunno how much you've heard from those two," he points upstairs to where his parents' voices are slowly raising along with their blood-alcohol levels, "but I'm no stranger to psycho-warfare either."
He feels a nod. Silent acknowledgement. "Right, would give you an edge in scoping out others who'd try the same tricks." Not a question, simply confirmation.
"Exactly. So... whatcha gonna call me? Anything but Alice, please." Xander bats his eyelashes toward his lover's face, figuring he can see in the dark well enough.
"Er, no, you don't look like an Alice, love." For a few heartbeats, the room is quiet again. Circular strokes of fingertips against Xander's upper arm keep him from dozing off in warm comfort. "Lexan."
"Huh, not bad. Never tried it before, but why not."
Cool lips brush his jawline as Jamie kisses his way up to Xander's ear, quietly whispering, "Lexan, would you let me make love to you now?"
And somehow, the new nickname makes it all the more intimate. Behind closed doors type of petname used only between lovers. Yeah, his dick likes it too... or maybe it's just responding to the question. Which he hasn't answered yet. "Yes please, Jamie."
Part Three
Apologies in advance. This is the last posting I will be able to do for the foreseeable future. My computer is dead and cannot be resurrected. I've tried to tie up a few loose ends, and promise to coerce whomever I must into letting me online as soon as I can find just *one* neighbor within ten miles who has an internet connection.
Will definitely keep writing, and post when I'm able.
Instead of picking up where they left off, Jamie rolls off and turns the human's body so that they're back to front. "As you wish, my lovely Lexan."
Xander's mind stops working as those skillful hands work him back to a fevered pitch of arousal. Fingers plucking his nipples (and when had they gotten so sensative?), one hand stroking along his back, down the curve of his spine. He knows the basics of how two men have sex, but it never looked appealing before. Now, he thinks he just might explode if his lover doesn't fill him, complete him, soon.
"Please Jamie, please....." and he can hear the whine in his voice, but can't seem to care.
Growing up with his best friends being girls, Xander has had ample opportunity to hear how they just want someone to make them feel like they're the only important thing on earth. He couldn't quite understand what they meant, until his incubus showed up. And he has to admit that having someone's attention focused entirely on his pleasure is a major turnon, especially someone as talented at finding all his hidden erogenous zones.
There's a moment's pause and some rustling nearby, then those fingers are back, slowly manipulating his left knee to bend, drawing it closer to his body. He feels exposed and tenses a little, slightly worried about what comes next. But those slender digits ghost across his back, counting every vertebrae until he's melting down into the bed, and he wonders why he'd ever been concerned.
If Xander had eyes in the back of head and could see in the dark, he would bear witness to his lover becoming visible. The pale skin and paler hair, ice blue eyes blurring with gold flecks intent on his task of pleasuring the mortal in his arms, his entire body rigid with barely controlled desire.
Xander moans into his pillow, shuddering and pushing back into his lover's embrace, trying to get closer and *more*. His tactic seems to have failed miserably, because all contact is removed. "Whaaaa?"
"Love, do you trust me?"
And up until now, Xander would have sworn that Jamie's voice couldn't get any lower, any smoother. Those few purred words prove him wrong. Still, he tries to clear his mind enough to formulate a true answer. "Yes, I do." To his own ears, he can hear the genuine wonder in that simple reply.
Before his smile has a chance to crack his jaws, his body is moved once again. Flat on his back, legs spread and knees raised, he is totally exposed. The bed dips as Jamie shifts, settling between his legs. A cool hand on either thigh, stroking closer to the center of his arousal.
He can't see his lover, can't feel which position he's in, so when he feels moist air against his balls, Xander cries out in both surprise and pleasure. Speaking directly at the drawn sac, Jamie whispers, "Calm down, lover. I'm just going to relax you a bit. If you want to help out, hold your knees up for me, alright?"
Since his brain is no longer online, Xander feels this is a fine idea. Knees in the way. Move them. More attention directed elsewhere. Check!
He has one spare neuron to marvel that his lover understands how little foreplay is needed at this point, before he feels a cool tongue lathing his perineum, feathering the hairs on his balls, then licking one fat line up the length of his cock. That amazing muscle makes the trek a few more times before centering in on his hole. Xander doesn't mean to tense -- he's enjoying this too much to object over his last ounce of heterosexuality flying out the window -- but when the delightful tongue starts circling his asshole, he clenches and relaxes, as if his orifice is trying to wink or beckon it inside.
A throaty chuckle reverberates against his sensatized flesh, making his buttocks tremble. Before he can moan another plea, however, the cool digit slips past his guardian ring and swirls the perimeter of his virgin flesh. So now he does moan, long and loud and with no coherency behind it, urging with his body when his mind can no longer form words.
Jamie doesn't hesitate in taking advantage of his response, forcing his tongue further inside the delicious heat of his lover. Soon enough, the human's body is vibrating with impending orgasm, and even though he knows that Xander will protest, he removes his tongue in favor of lubed fingers. The first two enter easily, bringing a shocked gasp that turns into louder cries of pleasure when he gently rubs the young man's prostrate. Another finger joins the party and almost immediately he's shouting out his completion.
If he'd thought that things couldn't get better than the incredible blowjob from a few nights ago, Xander would now happily call himself every kind of delusioned liar. His only regret is that his lover wasn't inside him at the time. A fact he's determined to alter. "More Jamie, don't stop now." The best he can manage as he floats in post-orgasmic bliss.
He hears a soft snick of the lubricant's cap, then that wonderfully cool body is sliding up his length, soothing over-heated flesh even as it rekindles the fires of arousal.
Placing the head of his erection against the mortal's tender hole, Jamie pauses to kiss his lover, deep but gentle, trying to communicate what nouns and verbs never seem to say. The message is returned in kind, and his heart almost beats with the swell of emotions coursing through the room.
As prepared as he is, Xander still feels a moment of surprise when his lover's cock enters him without pain, easily slipping past his sphincter. Surprise turns to waves of pleasure -- Jamie angles his thrusts to brush against that sweet gland inside him, bringing his own erection back quickly. He's almost overwhelmed with sensation, between the slick slide of being taken, the cool lips and tongue worshipping his neck, and the lubed fingers stroking his dick.
Maybe he's been stupid all this time, turning down the handful of guys who've propositioned him. Maybe he should have taken Larry up on his offer of no-strings fun the night before graduation. And maybe he was just incredibly lucky to have waited for this being, who gives his all to love-making and has never broken his promise of insuring his first time is special, perfect.
Jamie's control shows years of practice, and he's at once both grateful and jealous of whomever enjoyed it before him. The body above Xander trembles with the effort of staving off his own orgasm, offering a slow ride sure to bring as much pleasure as he can. And Xander is grateful for that too, but he wants more. Wants to feel his wonderful lover lose his iron control, inside his body, using him and filling him. Leaving him with sore muscles for days to remind him of the most incredible experience of his life.
"Jamie.... don't hold back, please love. Harder, faster, for me?"
And before the last words are out of his mouth, the leash snaps and he's pumping in hard strokes, speeding up till his hips must be a blur. Xander's throat arches in a silent scream as he cums a second time, almost blacking out from the intensity. He feels he's almost reached perfection.
Then Jamie thrusts once, twice more and stills, emptying his heavy balls inside Xander's ass, growling out his new name before sagging limply across his sweaty chest. And now he knows what perfect really means.
They share soft, soothing kisses, holding each other till the aftershocks pass. Xander doesn't fool himself. Whatever type of demon his lover is, Jamie never stays past dawn. But he'll get as much snuggle time in as he's allowed before the countdown to the next night begins.
(I went to school with a guy named Alexander who went by Lexan. Granted, he was a complete jerk, but I always thought it was a cool abbreviation. Take a wild guess who 'Jamie' is *eyeroll* That name will be explained later, but it does make sense, honestly.)
T B C
