Author: Angel the Part-time Succubus (Angelia Sparrow)

Email: valarltd@hotmail.com

Rating; NC-17, so underage, go away

Summary; Two, count' em two challenge fics for the price of one!  This is the 1:37 challenge
and the "Write some Buffy/Xander PWP' challenge rolled into one.

Spoilers: All of season 3, esp. Grad 2

Disclaimer: These are not my characters.  They belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and WB.
I receive no monetary gain for these stories.

Distribution: Any and all.  You want it, you got it, just let me know where it is...

Feedback: Please yes.  Let me know if I got it right.  I've discovered I really don't much like
Buffy.  I'm not sure I write her well.

Author's Note: I have two people to thank for the Hellmouth. Jennifer Fountain from Dartmouth and her fic supplied the name. And my husband, who dumped a giant pixi-stix into a 2 ltr bottle of Surge and said "Try this, one of my students likes it."
 

Buffy sat on the couch, listening to the clock and worrying.  The Cartoon Network broadcast
Acme brand violence to the front room, soundlessly.  "Hark to the chimes" and a single bong
told her it was now one AM.  Her mother should have been home by midnight.  She'd called
Joyce and let her know it was safe.  Her mother had almost wept at the news that her daughter
was both alive and triumphant.

Miraculously, her cap and gown had come through the conflagration unscathed.  Maroon was
not her color, but her mother would want pictures.  And she could hug Giles for finding her
diploma.  Somehow it meant more coming from his hands than if Snyder had given it to her.
She hoped the principal was happy in whatever afterlife little ratmen got.  She supposed she
would have to stop thinking ill of the dead, but in Snyder's case it was almost impossible.

The last of the fires was out.  The nights were becoming more peaceful in Sunnydale.  Willow
and Oz hadn't been seen for two days.  They answered the phone at his place though.  She
couldn't worry about them schtupping like a pair of crazed weasels.  Not with her own heart as
full of ashes as the lot where the school had stood.  Giles was busy finding a new job, and
Wesley was hospitalized.  The vampire's blow had fractured several vertebrae and he'd been
trampled in the course of the fight.  Giles was feeling a bit guilty about the snide "whimpering"
comment now that he saw the other was truly injured.  She still trained and patrolled, missing
Faith's banter every night.  But the undead seemed to be resting in peace, rather than making her
life miserable.

1:05, a knock at the door.  She looked out the peephole and saw Xander standing on the step.  he
looked bad.  She opened the door, pointedly not inviting him in.  He came in anyway and sat at
the kitchen island, face buried in his hands.

"Xander?  Are you all right?"

"Do I look all right?"

"You look really unwell."  She lifted his chin and checked for bite marks.  "Want a drink?  And
then we'll talk about it."

"Jolt, please.  I need more sugar and caffeine than the law allows."

"Sorry, all we got is Mountain Dew.  How about a Hellmouth?  There's cherry kool-aid in the
cupboard."  She took down the presweetened drink mix and measured a tablespoon into the
glass.  She poured the Mountain Dew over it and stirred.  She rummaged in the junk drawer,
where Joyce pretended not to notice she kept candy, and produced 3 pixi-stix.  "Grape, cherry or
lime?"

"Lime."  She dumped the contents of the candy straw into the glass and stirred again.

"Drink. Talk."  She set about mixing one for herself, using the cherry pixi-stix.

"I'm leaving.  I have to get out of town.  I need a place to stay until morning, and then I'm outta
here.  I'll get my money from the bank and head off on the American Highway."

"Folks fighting again?"

"What folks?  I have no parents.  I have no home.  Mom packed my bags and dad threw me out.
Can I stay here?  Just tonight?  I'd stay at Will's but..."

"I know.  Drink.  I'm waiting for my mom to get home.  She should have been here an hour ago.
We'll ask her when she gets here."

Xander drank in silence, his usually sharp tongue stilled by the enormity of his situation.  Buffy
respected his silence and did not try to banter.  But the steady glances he was throwing her way
made her uncomfortable.

"Xander, am I turning green?  You keep staring at me."

"No.  Just memorizing how you look.  A snapshot for my mental album.  Something to take out
on the nights I'm sleeping under the overpasses and look at."

Knowing she was about to put her foot in it, Buffy opened her mouth.  "Xander, would you like
to stay in Sunnydale?  I'd take company on patrols and you could live here."

"And what am I going to do?  Be a kept man, your replacement for Angel?  I didn't get into UC-
Sunnydale.  I can't even get into the Sunnydale Community College, they require a diploma.  I
could do the army thing..."

"Stop.  It's late at night.  And the replacement crack was uncalled for."  A single bong
interrupted her.  1:15.

"Really.  And here I thought it was accurate."  He stood up and moved in closer.  "If you had
enough money to keep us fed and housed, I'd happily be your boy-toy."  He kissed her
unexpectedly.

Buffy tried to pull away, but found she didn't want to.  He was good.  He was really good.  The
kiss was slow, firm and luxurious.  The warmth of him tasted odd after Angel's coolness.  When
he let her up for air, she looked at him a bit glazedly.

"You want to audition for the job?" she asked, interested despite herself.  It had been so long
since that one time.  Her body remembered what it wanted, and the desires she had suppressed
bubbled over.

In reply, he scooped her into his arms, like the covers of the romance novels she read, and
carried her up the stairs to her room.  He deposited her gently on her feet, and began the process
of removing each piece of clothing from her.

The blouse first, accompanied by kisses across her bared shoulders and chest.  Then the skirt.
As he knelt to help her step out of it, he kissed the inside of her knee, sending a shiver through
her.  He removed her sandals, running a gentle finger along each instep.  He stood to help her out
of the sports bra, and kissed each icing-pink nipple in turn, awakening them to aching hardness.
The panties came down last, as he hooked his thumbs in the waistband and eased them down.
He knelt again, helping her out of them.  The scent of her overwhelmed him and he planted a
lingering kiss on the dark triangle.

His thumbs urged her thighs apart, and he licked them very thoroughly, tasting her, smelling her,
reveling in the experience of Buffy.  He flicked a very light tongue between her legs, tasting the
clean salt of her, and then regained his feet and stripped very quickly.

Her eyes were wide and her breath came sharply.  She was amazed at his proficiency, and when
he caught her lips again, her own taste still on his mouth, she was lost.

"Take me!" she insisted, "Right now."

Xander picked her up again, carrying her to the bed without losing the lip-lock.  He laid her
down on it gently, and stroked her, his hands pursuing an ever-downward course until one
slipped between her legs, making sure she was truly ready.  She handed him a condom from the
bedside table.  He never missed a beat kissing and caressing her, as his free hand slipped it on.

The other hand parted her legs, until she was open enough to accept him.  He slid in, pausing
just inside to let her get the feel of him.  From below came the clock's chime of 1:30.  He thrust
again, burying himself completely in her soft wetness.

It had been too long.  Buffy felt stretched in a good way as Xander entered, and then gasped as
he penetrated to the hilt.  He was so warm.  It was almost better than the remembered passion
with Angel.  But a real man compared to a memory was hardly fair play.  Buffy chided herself
for not paying attention, and turned back to what Xander was doing to her body.

Someone had taught him well that the female body was a delicate instrument.  While he was not
a virtuoso, he was definitely competent and turning her on very quickly.  He had tipped her hips
to maximize her pleasure, and now loomed above her, concentrating on pleasing her.  He ducked
his head to capture one nipple in his mouth, and nibbled lightly at it as he thrust.  She felt her
orgasm building, and urged him to greater exertion with her hands on his hips.

Guided by her desires, Xander thrust harder and faster, rewarded by Buffy's gasps which were
rapidly becoming moans.  He hoped he could hold out long enough for her to finish.  She
screamed almost soundlessly, gripping his arms hard enough to bruise.  That was all he needed.
He had done it.  He had pleasured a slayer.  He took two more thrusts, tensed and sighed
"Buffy."  She felt him pulsate, almost jerking, inside her.

Quickly, before he could soften, he pulled out and removed the condom.  Throwing it away, he
lay beside her, stroking and kissing her.  He could feel her arousal starting to grow again,
and slipped two fingers down between her legs, stroking her softness.

Buffy's sharp ears heard the kitchen door open.  Distracted though she was, she shoved Xander's
clothes into his hands and hurried him off to the bathroom.  Quickly, she put on her oversized
football jersey, panties and a robe, doing her best to look like she hadn't just had sex.

"Hi, Mom," she chirped from the top of the stairs.

"Buffy?  Who's here?  I saw two glasses.  It's 1:37 in the morning."  Joyce looked flushed,
disheveled and stressed beyond her limits.

"Xander's here.  His folks threw him out.  He's in the bathroom."  As if on cue, the toilet
flushed.  "And you're late, Mom.  You said midnight."

"Honey, you know LA traffic.  Does Xander need to stay here for a while?  We can set him up
on the couch."

"Thanks, Mom. I think he might like to stay, at least tonight.  Beats sleeping on a park bench."

Xander came out of the bathroom, pale and tired looking.  "Buffy, remind me not to let you mix
the Hellmouths next time."

"Hellmouths?  Buffy, you can wash the sludge from the bottom of the glasses tonight.  It will be
concrete in the morning.  I'm going to bed.  Xander, you can stay on the couch.  Buffy, find him
sheets and a pillow.  Good night.  We'll talk about future plans in the morning.  And sweetie,
could you possibly try _not_ to destroy the community college?  Two high schools should be
enough."

Buffy and Xander went to the kitchen to wash the glasses.  He caught her against the sink and
kissed her.  "When you're mom's asleep, shall I finish the audition?  She only let me get halfway
into my classical piece.  I haven't even tried the modern piece or the vocal selection yet."

"Where'd you learn to kiss like that?  Or make love?"

"Kissing from Cordy mostly, along with the handwork.  Some from Faith, including putting
clothes on in 10 seconds or less.  Most, just from dreaming about you for three years, imagining
how I would like to make love to you."

Upstairs, Joyce placed a quick phone call.  "Yes, I got home fine.  No, she doesn't suspect a
thing."  She listened and then giggled.  "No I can't sneak out.  Xander's on the couch."  More
listening.  "Tomorrow then, Ripper.  'Night."  she rolled over and went to sleep.

The glasses clean, Buffy raided the linen closet, producing an old She-ra, Princess of Power
sheet, a pillow and pillow case.  She set them on the end of the couch, and Xander shoved her
back onto her back.

"I also read.  Well, I look at pictures.  Some of Giles' books are really not fit for a school
library."  He eased her panties down, and slid two fingers into her, watching every movement.
"And then there was _Starship Troopers_, and the brain-bug."  He added a third.  His thumb
stroked the protrusion at the top of her cleft, making it stand up.  She moaned and rubbed against
his hand.  he stroked harder with his thumb and pressed the fingers against the front of her.  She
muffled her cries into the pillow.

"Having finished my modern piece, I now go into my vocal selection."  He licked the pulsating
redness, removing his fingers one at a time.  His tongue danced over the outer lips, dived
between the inner, and thrust into her.  Withdrawing from that approach, he licked her all over,
studiously avoiding the erect begging button of her clitoris.  She was sweating, and practically
crying from his teasing.  He closed his mouth over it and flicked his tongue lightly over the head.
Buffy clutched at his hair, pressing her thighs against his head trying to trap him there, keep him
working at her.  He let his teeth scrape over her and she arched like a drawn bow.  He suckled a
bit more and then nipped her, not hard.  Buffy's fourth orgasm pounded through her.

He freed himself from her thighs and lay beside her on the couch, letting her snuggle into his
arms.  "Do I pass the audition?"

"You pass.  You can be my boy-toy as long as you like.  We'll talk to Mom in the morning about
you staying.  If you want to, and don't feel the need to Kerouac on us immediately."

"We'll see, Buffy.  In the morning."   He watched her climb the stairs, then spread the sheet and
cased the pillow.  He stretched out on the couch, half dreaming of all the things he'd read that he
wanted to try, half dreaming of the call of the open road.

people offered to help Buffy clean up the Hellmouth sludge.