TITLE: "Ripped"
AUTHOR: Cathryn (SpikeDchs@aol.com)
RATING: A big, fat NC-17.
SPOILERS: "Band Candy"
CATEGORY: Xander/Other m/m slash PWP. For those of you who don't know Smut
Speak, this means that this story is a plotless little affair wherein Xander
has sex with a mystery man.
WARNING: This *is* slash. I know that bothers some people. If you are one
of them, don't read this. If you read it, don't flame me, 'cause I warned
you, and you will just get flamed back.
FEEDBACK: Well, duh. This is my first Mystery Lover type thing and I need
to know if it was okay or if it was so clumsy I should make a point of printing
it out just so I can burn it.
FURTHER WARNING: Anyone under the legal age should not read this. I hardly
expect that flimsy little warning to stop you, and frankly I don't personally
care, but my butt is now legally covered.
NOTES: This story takes place during "Band Candy," just after the slaying
of the sewer demon, but before the candy has worn off.
DISCLAIMER: Joss. Not me. I'm just playing. Joss, are you sure you'll want
them back when I'm finished?
Xander dropped his pencil impatiently on the table. It promptly rolled off
onto the floor next to the wall. He looked around, hoping maybe he could
ask someone to pick it up for him. No such luck, but he'd known that already
- Willow, Cordelia, and Oz were all gone, having left shortly after Buffy
had dropped by to tell them that the candy crisis had been resolved. Xander
had volunteered to do the post-research cleanup thing, since Giles, according
to Buffy, was not in any condition to do it.
"Damn." With a sigh, Xander leaned over the table, groping for the pencil.
He couldn't quite reach, and he laid himself flat on the table, his feet
still on the floor. Within seconds, he had the pencil.
"A-*haauuggh*!" he yelped as someone grabbed his hips from behind. Reflexively,
he tried to straighten up, but the person grasped the back of his neck and
pushed him back down.
"Stay," a voice whispered sharply. Xander stayed, trying to figure out who
it was, but the one-word muffled whisper wasn't any help. A piece of black
cloth was wrapped tightly around his eyes, tied securely behind his head.
Xander started to shake.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Does it matter?" The whisper was muffled; Xander couldn't identify it.
A pair of hands began to caress his ass. Xander gasped sharply, trying to
pull away.
"Relax," the whisper murmured. The hands continued their slow caresses and
Xander soon found himself following the voice's instructions, sagging a little
against the table. The hands slipped around to the front and undid Xander's
zipper.
"No," Xander protested weakly. His aggressor ignored him, and Xander moaned
in spite of himself as a hand slid around his cock.
The hand massaged him gently, then more firmly, until Xander was squirming
on the table, gripping the edges and biting his lips. He began to thrust
against the warm palm as best he could, his hips banging against the table.
The hand abruptly took a firm, but not too tight, grip on his hard cock,
effectively ceasing Xander's movements.
"Hold still," the whisper rasped.
"Okay," Xander mumbled. "Just don't stop." He heard a whispery chuckle, and
the hand resumed, moving a little faster than before. Xander moaned, biting
down hard on his lower lip to remind himself to keep still.
After a moment, the hand slipped away. Xander heard a soft murmur as the
person straightened up.
"Why . . . ?" Xander began, but he was shushed brusquely. He thunked his
head against the table from sheer frustration, prompting the whisper to
counsel,
"Patience is a virtue, Xander . . . you know, I hate that saying. The hell
with patience." Xander relaxed, but not too much, lest he slide right off
the table. He heard the sounds of a lid being unscrewed from a jar, loud
in the silent library. Suddenly, his jeans and boxers were jerked down roughly,
the zipper scraping along his thigh, making him shiver. A few seconds later
he was yelping in indignant surprise as a lubed-up finger was thrust into
his ass. The voice immediately shushed him again as the finger worked slowly
in and out. The other hand slipped around and began to lightly stroke his
cock again. Xander groaned softly, biting his lip so hard he broke the skin.
A second finger joined the first, then a third, pulling the tight passage
open wide, and thrusting in and out quickly. The hand on his cock matched
their rhythm. Xander gasped and moaned, shaking from lust and the desire
to move against his mystery lover's touch.
Too soon, the hands moved away, and Xander, his mind completely clouded with
pleasure, could only groan in disappointment. A soft laugh came from above
him. Xander blinked. A masculine laugh . . . ?
A moment later - it was only a few seconds, but it seemed longer - something
probed against, then into, Xander's anus. Suspicions confirmed - a man! Xander
gave an odd strangled cry.
"Hold on tight," the man murmured, and had the voice actually changed, or
was it Xander's imagination? Xander gripped the table as best he could with
his suddenly sweaty hands, and the man began to thrust, slowly, into him.
Xander gasped at the initial pain, his body flinching in protest at the invasion.
Then, as the pain subsided, it was replaced with unexpected pleasure.
As the speed of the thrusts slowly increased - must be ever mindful of the
fact that this was Xander's first time - he slipped his hand around the boy's
painful erection, pumping him in time with his thrusts.
Soon, he was slamming into Xander, unable to suppress his soft moans, which
Xander couldn't identify, not that he was especially concerned about identity
anymore. He held onto the table tightly, his hips banging the edge with each
increasingly hard thrust.
Abandoning all pretenses at gentleness, he pounded into Xander, their moans
growing louder. Xander exploded with a yell, his muscles clamping tightly
around his lover's cock. The added pressure sent him over the edge, and he
came silently, letting out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. He slumped
down on top of Xander as both of them fought to regain control.
A few minutes passed. Then the man lowered his head next to Xander's ear
and whispered,
"Now, Xander, you have a choice to make. I can get up and just walk away,
and this can remain a mystery. Or, you may remove the blindfold and see who
I am."
Xander paused, thinking. This could be anyone? Did he really want to know?
The identity could completely ruin this for him. But . . . so could always
wondering, speculating and coming up with possibilities that could be worse
than the truth.
As Xander thought, the man stepped back, pulling up his own jeans, then Xander's.
Xander straightened up, wincing slightly at the pain in his ass.
"You're going to feel that in the morning."
Xander turned to face the voice, took a deep breath, and spoke.
"I wanna see you."
"Very well then." Ripper reached around and untied the blindfold. He didn't
bother to whisper this time; Xander would know him in a few seconds . . .
The End (Okay, okay, so between the title and the notes, I pretty much gave
it away. I'm sorry. *g*)