Outtakes and Basement Tapes
Br
EntreNous

Summary: Xander listens to a tape of Oz, and then Oz finishes the performance in person. Includes the lyrics to “Dirty Mind” by Prince, but it’s not just songfic—read on to see for yourself. Written for the AAA FQFest.

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Xander slumped on his bed with his eyes half-closed, listening to the most recent Dingoes tape that Willow had lent him. She gave them to him so frequently that they were starting to pile up, and Xander had begun to realize they weren’t so much loans as forgotten possessions and therefore basically his.

Odd, kinda, that she’s given him the music and outtakes so casually, though Willow had been one of the band’s most ardent groupies back in the day. Even now, she and Tara loved going to Oz’s live shows ever since his return to Sunnydale. Everything was copasetic between Will and Oz now, and everyone was relieved that Tara hardly hid behind her hair or blushed much when Oz was around.

As he listened to the practice session he thought a bit about Willow and Oz, the thing they’d had in high school, the friendship they had tentatively cultivated now. The newest song sounded good, even when Devon stopped short in the middle of the bridge and cussed out the bassist. Oz laughed smoothly and settled the tension with a few murmurs (it was hard to hear exactly what he said because only Devon was on mike in this one, but Xander could definitely tell it was Oz in the background -- who else had that low, soothing speaking voice?).

Sometimes it felt weird to listen to the tapes and think that they had been made especially for Willow. But maybe Willow had never been the best audience for Oz’s music. Over the last few weeks as Xander listened to the recordings of the Dingoes, it had gradually dawned on him that teenage Willow’s proud declaration, “my boyfriend’s in the band,” had been much more about Willow than the band or the boyfriend. He could almost imagine how the other kids in high school had reacted to that pairing: “I mean, Willow --Geek much?” “No, dude, didn’t you know? The guy who fronts the Dingoes, the short one with the funky hair—they’re totally fucking.” “Huh.”

Whatever. Somehow Oz had pulled Willow’s coolness rating way up, though Xander had correspondingly only dragged down Cordelia’s rep. You’d think the boost in credibility she’s gained would’ve endeared Willow to the band’s music more, but nope. Even now, she didn’t really seem that interested in listening to their recordings or practice sessions apart from the actual shows. Xander was the only one who did that, and though he hadn’t hung out much with Oz alone since his return, he knew Oz was pleased that Xander kept up with the band and their material. He could tell by the way Oz watched him comfortably when he joined their group between sets at the Bronze, the way Oz seemed more animated when Xander asked questions about the songs the Dingoes were working on now.

When Xander had asked Willow about why she didn’t hang on to the tapes herself, she said she couldn’t really study or relax to the stuff the Dingoes played. She’d rather have Sarah Maclaughlin, or Mazzy Starr whirling around in her CD player. “You study to Mazzy Starr?” Xander asked incredulously. “Well, I said relax, too, you know . . . ” Willow said, blushing slightly. “Oh,” he’d replied at first, and then, “Oh! Damn, Will! You go ahead with your bad ol’ self.” She blushed harder, but she laughed tantalizingly, in a secret kind of way. *That* was definitely midnight material for at least a week.

But Xander was all about hearing the different versions of every song the Dingoes performed. Maybe high school was over, but it never hurt to work on your cool quotient. Even if he himself wasn’t cool, he could try to get some of Oz’s coolness to rub off on him by association. And the way to make Oz his pal, Xander had decided, was to become the official expert of the Dingoes’ Basement tapes.

“I think Oz knows I don’t really listen to the off-the-cuff recordings,” Willow confided in Xander once as she lent him the latest installment of the group’s efforts. “But I’m pretty sure he likes it that I ask for them. Oh, and I told him that you’ve been borrowing them from me, and he wants to hear what you think of the newest stuff sometime.” The last few times she’d handed him the tapes, she passed along new messages. “Oz said to tell you he put some stuff on here he thought you’d like,” she’s told him a week ago, handing him a mix, and just yesterday, she said, “Oz said to make sure to pass on the practice session from Thursday to you -- he said they really rocked that one, that you’d like the tunes.”

“Wow, really?” Xander asked wonderingly. After the mess with Willow in high school, he’d always worried that Oz didn’t want him around. Sure, he was friendly, and the two of them had definitely gotten past the immediate awkwardness that had pervaded their interactions after Xander was caught smooching Willow. But since then, he had assumed Oz didn’t consider himself Xander’s friend. He put up with Xander, sure, but -- except now it sounded like Oz wanted to talk to him about music, even wanted to hang with him in plans that didn’t necessarily include Willow. Huh.

The words that Oz had said to Devon appeared to work, because back on the tape Devon was now crooning wordlessly into the mike a little, and Xander could hear the other guys in the band cracking up in the background and egging him on. These were actually his favorite moments in the tapes, when the band was just riffing and fucking around. Eventually, they would segue way into one of their songs, or even start up something new.

Xander listened carefully -- it sounded as though they were running through a couple of tunes on their instruments. Sounded like -- he could hear Devon murmuring “she’s got a face that could stop a clock” -- Oh, Cheap Trick. Devon sang a little more of “He’s a Whore,” then Tianhu, the new bassist, changed his line. Zack gave a funny shout from behind the drums, matched his beat, and the rhythm section led Devon and Oz into a new shift. What the hell -- Joni Mitchell? Sounded like that song “Cary” that Willow had insisted on playing for him one hella-long Saturday when she’d attempted to turn him on to the glories of folk music. This adaptation sounded funked up, but still shone a light on the original. It was an okay song after all, Xander thought, especially the way the Dingoes were playing it.

Okay, now the melody morphed into something else. He just didn’t get the musical tastes of these guys, though he tried. He prided himself on getting the next reference: Big Star. The name of the song he couldn’t remember, so he’d check at the music store, maybe listen to a couple of the band’s recordings on headphones there. Well, maybe there would be a quiz later, and he could impress Oz with his expanding musical knowledge.

Then, the beat changed again, there were a few murmurs in the background, and Devon laughed a little evilly, saying “It’s all you, man.” Huh? There was a rustling sound coming from the mike, like it was being raised, or lowered.

Xander sat up sharply when he heard a weird kind of rhythm from the drum set. Oz laughed quietly in the background, and Xander realized he knew this song. In fact, it was a song he really liked, a song he used to play over and over in high school. Then he heard a voice that was definitely not Devon’s, a kind of higher voice, pitched to follow the melody, though not as high as the vocals on the original track of the tune that Xander knew. This was . . . Oz? Yeah, it was Oz taking the lead here, and Xander unconsciously blushed when he recognized the rest of the band kicking in to the first verse -- it was Prince’s “Dirty Mind.”

Just somethin’ about you, babe
Happens every time
Whenever I’m around you, babe
I get a dirty mind

Doesn’t matter where we are
Doesn’t matter who’s around
Doesn’t matter—I just want
To lay you down

Holy shit -- Oz sounded great! Xander tried to remember if he’d ever heard Oz solo before, but all he could come up with was the backup stuff all the Dingoes did together on the choruses, and then it was hard to pick one voice out over another. But, wow, he did more than just hit the notes here. It sounded incredible to hear Oz singing, a song that Xander was pretty sure he’d never hear at the Dingoes shows, a song that Willow had in all likelihood never heard Oz sing. Xander almost felt like he’d stumbled onto some secret -- was it even okay for him to be listening to this? Well, it should be, ‘cause Willow had said Oz knew that Xander listened to the tapes. Hell, Oz probably knew that Xander was the only one who did listen to them.

In my Daddy’s car
It’s you I really want to drive

Oh fuck, the song just got better and better. Oz’s voice went back and forth from a kind of smooth honeyed singing to a scratchier, more aggressive version of the verse. Xander wiped his hands, which were suddenly sweaty, on his khakis. He wondered why Oz didn’t ever sing any of the Dingoes songs. He shook his head just a little. Funny, but he felt sort of light-headed -- probably it was just so surprising to hear Oz’s voice singing not just any song, but this particular tune.

But you never go too far
I may not be your kind of man
I may not be your style
But honey, all I want to do
Is just love you for a little while

Xander slumped back into the relaxed position he had been in at the start of the tape. If Oz’s speaking voice was soothing, this was . . . something else, not soothing exactly, but . . . uh . . . really, really good. Xander absently ran his hand across his thin t-shirt and shivered a little. He went ahead and increased the pressure some, rubbing back and forth across his chest, and let his eyelids flutter. Definitely not falling asleep . . . uh . . . more like . . . oh . . . something else. He tipped his head back on the piled up pillows a little. Down here in the basement, listening to Oz sing in that . . . oh . . . voice of his, he didn’t really register fully that his hand was still rubbing, rubbing, working its way down lower to his abdomen and the top of his fly.

If you’ve got the time
I’ll give you some money
To buy a dirty mind
Don’t misunderstand me
I never fool around
But honey, you got me on my knees
Won’t you please let me lay you down

His eyes now completely closed, Xander concentrated on Oz’s voice alone, the basement blocked out, anyone else connected to Oz -- Devon, Willow -- well shut-out. Just the vision of Oz singing, maybe that image, he could picture to add to the sound of the lyrics pouring around him in waves.

The action of undoing his pants and pushing them and his boxers down swiftly was just a familiar side-note, an event hardly worth noticing. It was just a regular Saturday kind of thing: hanging out, listening to music, jerking off.

He gasped nearly inaudibly as his hand slid over and tightened around his cock.

I really get a dirty mind
Whenever you’re around
Happens to me every time
You just gotta let me lay you
Gotta let me lay you lay you
You just gotta let me lay you
Gotta let me lay you down

Oh, god. Xander’s other hand slid under his t-shirt to pinch and jerk at his nipples. He moved his hand on his painfully stiffened dick upoverdown upoverdown upoverdown, bringing his palm over the sensitive head in the middle of every turn. He began to speed the deliberate strokes. He moaned along in accompaniment to the tape, letting out soft cries that drifted dreamily around the room during gaps in the lines and verses.

In my daddy’s car
It’s you I really wanna drive
Underneath the stars
I really get a dirty mind
Whenever you’re around

Close, really close -- the song was coming to an end, and Xander pulled harder, moved his hand faster on his cock, tweaked his nipple sharply. Just then he could hear the last lines of the song, as Oz murmured them in a lower voice --

I don’t want to hurt you, baby,
I only wanna lay you -- down . . .

“Fuck, oh Christ, yeah, fuck, yeah -- uhhoh! Uhhhhhh.”

Xander cried out hoarsely, unintelligibly, and felt his cock shudder, jerk, and shoot hard and fast. He lay there, still panting, with his eyes closed, and felt a familiar heaviness sink into his limbs. His breathing started to deepen and slow when suddenly he jerked back into consciousness.

The tape had ended. It had ended just *before* the last two lines. The last two lines that he’d heard, that he knew he’d heard Oz murmur. He lay there, still and listening, when he heard the unmistakable sound of someone in the room clearing his throat.

“Oh, fuck,” Xander swore, and reached down to pull up his boxers or grab part of the sheet or something. A hand, smaller than his, stronger, stopped him by holding his wrist firmly down on the bed where it had rested beside his shoulder a moment ago. Another hand quickly grabbed his other wrist. When Xander opened his eyes, he was looking straight at the impenetrable face of Oz hovering just six or seven inches above his own.

Oz was on all fours, his knees spread to rest just outside Xander’s legs, and he still held Xander’s wrists tightly. “Oh, fuck,” Xander said again, somewhat sadly. How much had Oz heard? What did he think was going on here?

They stayed like that for a moment, Xander panting again in a quiet desperation, Oz just peering down at him. Xander groaned a little as he closed his eyes, thinking how exposed he must look, with his white t-shirt now pushed up to his collarbone, his pants and boxers tugged down to his knees, his lip bleeding just a little where he had bitten it as he’d come moments ago. And oh, yeah, don’t forget the cum clearly in evidence, coating his hand, striping his belly.

“Hey,” Oz said quietly. He squeezed Xander’s wrists gently until Xander opened his eyes once more. Xander just gaped back at him.

“So,” Oz remarked almost casually. “You liked that last tape?”

Xander looked up at the smaller man disbelievingly. What the hell did Oz expect him to say to that? “Uh, yeah, I fucking *liked* the last tape,” Xander replied bluntly.

Something twitched at the corners of Oz’s lips, and his green eyes widened slightly.

Xander took one look at Oz and couldn’t help it. He started laughing, a low grumbling at first, escalating into a breathless rumble of laughter spilling out of him.

Oz held back the smile on his face with more and more difficulty until finally he was cracking up too, the both of them laughing helplessly like a couple of loons. Xander started to feel a stitch in his side as he howled, and noticed that Oz’s grip on his wrists had relaxed. Oz’s posture flagged as he shook with laughter, and he abruptly collapsed on top of Xander, each continuing to snicker and snerk.

“Oh Christ,” Xander exclaimed when he started to breathe normally once more. Oz’s head was buried in the spot where Xander’s shoulder and neck met, and as far as Xander could tell he continued to laugh. He was shaking slightly, at least, so that probably meant he was still laughing . . . right?

“Um, Oz?” Xander tried, unsure what was supposed to happen next. He could feel the other man’s breath hot against his neck, and he drew in a sharp breath as (oh, no) his cock started to twitch and rise against Oz’s thigh.

“Yeah?” Oz returned, his voice muffled.

“Uh,” Xander rushed ahead, “I guess you’re probably, well, wondering --”

“Sorta,” Oz admitted calmly, as he pulled himself up a little, straddling Xander. Xander tried not to think about what this pressure would do to him, and soldiered on bravely.

“Oh. Well, the thing of it is, I was just -- I mean, I didn’t know you were . . . pretty much . . . Look, man, I was listening to the tape, listening to you sing that Prince song, and I just kinda went somewhere else, you know? And then I came from -- I mean, came *back* from -- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean -- I had no idea you were coming over -- I’m not sure what you’re thinking right now, but go ahead and jump in any time, okay?”

“Went somewhere else? Came from --” Oz paused, and looked down at him seriously. He had let Xander’s wrists go, but he was balancing himself by holding on to Xander’s shoulders. “Well, fuck, Xander. I don’t care where you came from -- just go back there. Immediately.”

Xander’s eyes clouded over in confusion, but there was no chance to ask questions, because Oz collapsed again on top of him, his lips pushing and biting on Xander’s lips, kissing him with such intensity that Xander felt his eyes rolling back into his head to check out how his brain was taking all of this.

Oz’s fingers were in Xander’s hair, gripping while he murmured into Xander’s mouth. And again with Oz’s soothing voice, because Xander melted into him, was kissing Oz back, pushing furiously up into his mouth, darting his tongue in to explore it. Oz moaned weakly for a moment before he recovered, sucking Xander’s tongue sharply and beginning to wind his hips back and forth, twisting and rubbing against Xander’s bare cock.

“Oz?” Xander gasped out. He tugged at the jeans covering Oz’s hardening bulge.

“Oh,” Oz noted briefly as he looked down at his pants. He traced his hand down Xander’s groping hand, and then worked himself out of his clothes before moving aside to get rid of Xander’s bunched-up apparel. “When in Rome, right?” Oz remarked.

“Uh, yeah,” Xander managed. Oz had lay back on top, then turned and rolled slightly so that they were facing one another. Then -- ah! -- they were thrusting together, the cooling cum still on Xander smoothing the friction as they rubbed against each other.

“Yeah, yeah,” Xander cried out as his cock swelled and hardened further.

“Keep going, wanna hear you,” Oz murmured.

“Fuck, no, don’t want to come again yet, please,” Xander begged.

Oz quirked an eyebrow at him, then amiably reached down to grab the base of Xander’s cock hard. “Okay.” Oz breathed. “Not yet, then.” He kept his hand gripped tightly around Xander’s twitching member.

“Oh, god,” moaned Xander, and Oz let up on the pressure just a little.

“I don’t want to hurt you, baby,” Oz crooned, echoing the last part of the song, “I only wanna -- ” but Xander’s mouth was on his once more, and the rest of the line got swallowed in their kiss.

They moved together, Oz’s hand reaching to cup the cheek of Xander’s ass and squeezing there, Xander’s mouth sucking and biting at Oz’s lower lip. They rolled again until Xander was on top, shuddering and sliding against Oz’s hardness, listening to Oz’s beautiful cries.

Then they turned, shifted, and Oz’s back was to Xander’s chest, and Oz was rubbing his ass against Xander’s cock, feeling the blossoming of precum teasing him as he pushed back for more wetness, more hardness, more.

“Xander,” Oz said in a low voice, “please -- oh, fuck -- rub against me,” and Xander arched his back, sliding his dripping cock into the smoothness and heat between Oz’s cheeks. Oz panted sharply, and gasped when Xander reached to stroke and pleasure him. As his cock was pulled and unmercifully drawn towards the inevitable orgasm, Oz tilted his head, giving access to Xander’s mouth sucking and biting at his neck.

“Oh, baby, yeah, do it,” Oz growled, and when Xander stiffened and jerked, crying out, Oz joined both of their hands to draw on his cock and soon after moaned hoarsely as he climaxed and shuddered.

Oz turned back into Xander. He tipped his head up towards the taller man, and Xander moved swiftly to kiss him. Unlike the harsh bruising pressure between their mouths that had set this off, the kiss deepened into a slow and heated dance, each of them brushing their lips softly against the other’s mouth.

They parted reluctantly, both in need of air. “Hey, could I have some water?” Oz inquired quietly, and Xander leapt out of the bed to bring him a glass. When he returned, Oz lay on his back, and Xander couldn’t see his expression. He held his breath slightly, relieved when Oz moved to accept the glass with an easy smile.

Xander slid back onto the bed, and smiled self-consciously back at Oz. “Uh . . . hi,” he said.

“Hi.” Oz looked amused by their exchange, but in a friendly way.

“Well. I guess that was okay with you then.” Xander tried really hard to make his words more of a statement than a question.

“Oh, that was all of the good,” Oz said evenly. “I’m glad,” he went on, “that you liked the tape. I know you like that song.”

“Oh. Yeah, I do. Kind of funny that you guys ended up singing that one -- I mean, that you ended up singing it -- that the song turned up on the tape.” Xander almost slapped his own hand over his mouth to keep from babbling.

“Huh. I guess it’d be funny, except that I planned it.”

Xander felt his heart skip a beat, and knocked himself on the chest a little for good measure. “Planned it? Planned to cover it in concert, or something?”

“No.” Oz’s voice was full of quiet assurance. “I know you’ve been listening to the tapes. I know you like that song. I wanted to sing it for you.”

“Of course,” Oz continued after a beat or two, “I thought you’d listen to it, we’d have coffee, and maybe talk about it. I was throwing out a line, Xander. Trying to see where you stand on this.”

“On this?” Xander echoed in a daze.

“Sure.”

Xander closed and opened his mouth, and nothing came out.

Oz raised himself halfway on his elbows. He turned to Xander, then reached out to brush a lock of dark hair out of Xander’s eyes.

“I must admit, coming down here and finding you . . . uh . . . listening to the song -- well, good opportunity to bring up the topic, right?”

“Wow. I’m totally confused,” Xander said sincerely.

“That’s okay. It’s a lot easier to understand than it sounds. Hey, Xander?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not too big on over-explaining things,” Oz shrugged.

Xander snorted, and Oz raised his eyebrows.

“I think I basically get it,” Xander slowly began, and then waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Just not sure *why* I’m getting it.”

Oz grinned at him crookedly as he pulled Xander back into an embrace. “Let’s just say I dig the sound of your voice.”

****The End*****