In Between
By
EntreNous

Andrew tiptoed into the darkened room and set his bag down on the floor quietly.

Then he almost tripped over the pile of Xander's clothing lying on the rug at the foot of the bed and shrieked loudly.

"Huzzat?" the pile of covers on the bed murmured, and in the dark Andrew could make out Xander starting to stir, blinking at him hazily.

"Sorry, sorry," he hissed. "Go back to sleep and I'll be there in a sec."

Xander ignored orders and half-sat up, yawning and stretching a little. "Hi, baby," he said in a hoarse voice.

"Hi," Andrew whispered shakily. Xander's t-shirt was crumpled from sleep and pushed up enough to expose a thin strip of skin above his boxers.

"You're back," Xander said sleepily.

"Yeah, I know I wasn't supposed to come back ‘til tomorrow afternoon, but we wrapped it up early . . . "

"Wasn't one of ours, huh?"

"Nah," Andrew said, kicking off his dress shoes and tossing his suit jacket on the chair. "She was . . . what's that thing again? . . . telekinetic! I guess her mom called Giles -- did you know that people are calling us now? I told Willow that the ads in those free papers that are all coupons and personals were a good idea -- because of the crazy super-strength, but it wasn't actually her. I mean, it was her, but not her physical strength. Just her telekinetic transportation and object manipulation."

Xander scratched his chest and smiled a muzzy smile. "I'm just going to nod and pretend like I know what that is, okay?"

"It's when . . ." Andrew started to explain, and then grinned. "I'll tell you all about it in the morning. And at breakfast I'll show you the really cool pictures of Kennedy trapped under something heavy."

"At breakfast? When you make me waffles?" Xander asked hopefully.

Andrew sighed and tried to look stern. "Why should I make you waffles? I'm the one that got back from a trip." He turned his back so that he wouldn't have to see Xander wriggling back down into a full reclining position, because it'd pretty much be all over for him then. "If anything, you should make me huevos rancheros for going standby just to get back to you sooner. Right? I mean, tell me why I should make you waffles."

Xander considered this thoughtfully. "Because I'm nice?" he finally offered.

"Where is the evidence of this niceness?" Andrew asked, looking around the room as though he'd find proof in the form of presents. He pointed to Xander's clothes on the rug. "That's not nice."

"Yeah," Xander said regretfully. "I'll pick those up in the morning." He stretched again and pondered. "How about all the nice things I'll do to you if you ever finish taking off your clothes and come to bed?"

Andrew froze, one sock in his hand, the other pulled halfway off his leg. "Okay," he got out, and hurried the rest of his clothes off. He slipped under the covers with a shiver and began to reach for Xander so he could draw them together, chest-to-chest.

Instead Xander reached faster, effortlessly sliding Andrew over him so that Andrew lay face up, exposed as Xander eased the sheets down.

"Ah," Andrew gasped, feeling Xander's hard cock pressing against him. Xander had slipped his boxers off without Andrew noticing, even though he'd kept the t-shirt on, and that half-clothed arrangement made Andrew blush. Somehow it seemed dirtier, hotter.

"Missed you, baby," Xander said softly. His hands skimmed up and down Andrew's sides, coming to rest by his hips and realign him.

Andrew shivered again slightly as Xander moved his hands to massage his shoulders and then his chest. He squirmed under the caresses, trying to follow and redirect Xander's fingertips as they refused to rest on his nipples, touching them only lightly before stroking down the length of his torso.

"Can't you . . . oh," Andrew got out as his movement brought Xander's hardness to rub against his cleft. "Oh. Oh."

"Can't I what?" Xander asked playfully.

"Just . . . oh," Andrew whispered, pressing back and rubbing against Xander, aiming to slide Xander's erection against his sensitive opening. His left hand crept down and back to curl under Xander's neck, fingers gripping there hard to steady himself.

"Nice," Xander mouthed against his neck, and Andrew started to pant when Xander's hand closed around his cock. His back felt suddenly too sensitive for the soft cotton of Xander's t-shirt, but he didn't want to move away, couldn't break contact even for the moment it would take to remove it.

And then Xander was moving while hardly moving at all, thrusting with short twists against and behind Andrew's soft sac, his hips somehow both lifting up and holding Andrew in their path.

Andrew made a choked sound in the back of his throat, and Xander shifted back, easing Andrew onto his side while he stroked soothingly at the small of Andrew's back. Then the strokes were detouring as Xander trailed a finger down into Andrew's seam.

"Xander --"

"Shhh," Xander said, somehow still sounding sleepy, his hands and body so warm in that just-woken way. "Shhh," he whispered, and when Andrew turned his head he caught his lips, biting gently and sucking at them until Andrew moaned low.

"Can I come inside you?" Xander asked, his breath feather-light on Andrew's ear.

"Do you want me to -- "

"No, like this -- "

The soft pulse of Xander's slicked finger entering him, opening and exploring him, made Andrew voice small inarticulate sounds, breathing hard as he pushed back into the insistent pressure.

"More," he said unevenly, and Xander laughed, obliging him. Easier now, and Andrew could feel Xander's heart beating a little faster as his chest pressed to Andrew's back.

Andrew's heart sped up in return; they didn't do it this way too often, and he could feel a flush rising on his skin as Xander bit lightly at his neck and reached to draw Andrew's leg upward for easier access.

"Hang on . . . " Xander mumbled.

"Just . . . go ahead, okay?" Andrew gasped.

"Sheesh . . . Mr. Bossy," Xander said petulantly. But he eased inside slowly, grunting, then resting his forehead on Andrew's head as he paused for a second.

"Okay," Andrew said clearly.

"Okay?"

"Yes, already, just . . . oh!" because Xander was inside all the way now, and leaning back onto the bed more, pulling Andrew along with him, holding Andrew's leg forward and fucking him so so slowly it made him want to sob out Xander's name except that he couldn't do anything but pant.

"Oh, fuck . . ." Xander swore as he moved, long slow strokes in and out. "You like this, baby?"

"Yes . . . yes," Andrew whispered, eyes closed, skin all over him shimmering and popping with the static of how good this was.

"Love to watch you take it," Xander said under his breath. His hand slid up-over-down Andrew's cock deliberately and languidly, matching the rhythm of his thrusts.

Andrew nodded needlessly and arched back.

For a stretch of time the noises echoed and slowed, the breathing and small noises surrounding Andrew as though he was hearing underwater. Then he heard the word "please," and he was the one saying it, and Xander pulled out for a moment, repositioning them quickly.

"Please," Andrew said more frantically when he was on his hands and knees, Xander kneeling behind him, increasing the pace until the pressure built, and in a volley of quick thrusts and harsh pulls they came in waves on and in and around one another.

***

"Don't go away again," Xander said quietly when they had settled against each other.

"You know that I have to, I . . .there are still . . ." Andrew said haltingly.

Xander ran a finger along the dip in Andrew's waist and then pulled him a little closer. "Maybe just for tonight you tell me that you won't?"

Andrew nodded slowly. "Okay. I won't go away."

Xander gave him a half smile. "Okay."

Andrew stroked the arm that encircled him. "Goodnight," he whispered.

“Night, baby."