*****

My eyes close and my knees feel weak as Xander continues to suck on my wrist, my blood flowing into his mouth. We're in the kitchen; he's sitting on a chair while I stand next to him. While his one hand is clamped around my forearm, holding my wrist to his mouth, his other hand is cupping my groin, his fingers slowly stroking my erection through the thin fabric of my pants.

Finally, I have to pull away from him. As I do, I sink down to the floor in a highly aroused state. I want to pull him down with me, but I'm too weak at this point. I watch as Xander stands up and moves to the refrigerator. I blink and when I open my eyes again, he's there above me with a cool bag of blood.

Tearing a hole in the bag with one fang, he lets the blood drip into my mouth. After the substance is drained, he throws the empty bag towards the sink then he's on top of me, his weight pressing me down as he buries his face in the crook of my neck. Blissful pain assaults me as his teeth pierce my flesh, tearing open veins.

But I am only vaguely aware of anything but our pelvises pressed together. I can not understand anything except the rhythm of our mutual undulating. Without my order, my hands move up to his hips and tighten, squeezing Xander's flesh and manipulating him until we are both in the right position to receive the maximum sensations. He stops his sucking and instead replaces it with a lapping action, using the pace that I like. He continues that for long moments before lifting his head from my neck and letting his lips rain down on my face. By the time his full and bloody lips reach mine, it occurs to me that we've never properly kissed before. This is our first one. But before I can reflect on that fact for too long, Xander's lips leave mine and his tongue darts out to sweep up the smears of blood that his lips have left on my face.

My hands move up to his head to pull him back to where I want him to be, but they stop when I see the look on his face. He's listening to something and not but a second later, I realize what he's listening to. There are footsteps from inside the house. And voices. Young voices of hesitant visitors.

Xander jumps off of me and before I realize that he's not pinning me down anymore, he's out of sight. I know that he used to the hidden stairs, built for servant use, to move upstairs. The voices are clear. They belong to Buffy, Willow, Giles and Oz. Sighing deeply, I get up, run my hand over my neck, making sure that my wound is no longer visible and then I move out of the kitchen.

I find them in the main room. Oz is hanging back by the open doors to the garden as Buffy and Willow creep around, each of them biting their bottom lips. Giles is glancing at a book on the table next to the couch. I clear my throat and I watch as they jump, their attention focusing on me. "Angel," Buffy says softly, the way she always does when she sees me. I just smile at her. I look at each one in turn and wonder why they're keeping their distance. It isn't until I glance at Oz and he subtly wipes his cheek with the backs of his fingers that I realize that I still have blood on my face. With lightening speed I wipe it off, then advance towards them, thankful that my erection has receded.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, cutting to the chase.

"We were curious," Giles answers.

"You haven't gotten in touch with us. We're worried about Xander," Willow says, her brow deeply creased.

"Where is he?" Giles asks, his eyes darting about the mansion. No doubt it makes him nervous to be here. I tortured him here not so long ago.

"He's upstairs," I reply softly. My hands are folded in front of me as I sit down on the hearth. "You can't just come over unannounced," I say to everyone in the room. Then focusing on Giles, who is looking at me with concerned eyes, I explain, "It's not good for him. He's not ready for that."

"It's been three weeks, Angel," Buffy says.

"Does that mean something?" I ask, perhaps a little too harshly. She turns her head down and busies her hands with picking at the hem of her shirt. My eyes move back to Giles. "And please don't just walk in anymore. I have a front door and a doorbell."

"Of course," Giles says, his head nodding.

My attention is drawn to Oz as he walks farther into the room and moves to stand next to Willow, his fingers lacing with hers. "How's he doing?"

"He's adapting. A lot slower than most, but then, most vampires aren't cursed with souls the first week they're reborn," I answer.

Willow tilts her head to the side an asks, "What's he like now?"

"He's different. He was very vibrant in life and now he's very quiet and reserved." With my heightened senses, I hear movement above me; I hear Xander moving out of the bedroom and into the hallway. He won't come down, but I'm sure that he'll be listening. My eyes glance at Oz and I realize that he's aware of the movement as well. I chalk it up to heightened werewolf senses. "So," I ask, needing to steer the topic away from directly about Xander since he was most likely listening. "How is Cordelia doing?"

Everyone just looks at their feet. Giles is the only one who looks up and catches my eyes with his own. "Not very well, I'm afraid. She's not taking the news of Xander's. . .well, she's been absent for a while and we inquired about it the day before last and we were told by the school that she was, uh, undergoing treatment at Havenbrook."

"The mental institution?" I ask, my eyes wide with shock.

Giles nods at me then says, "We're not sure what for, but she was admitted only days after she was told about Xander."

"Angel?" Buffy says and when I look at her I see that her eyes are full of sadness. "Can I talk to you? Alone?"

I want to sigh, but I hold it in, knowing that she'd take it the wrong way. Standing up, I walk out into the garden, knowing that she was following. She sits down on a marble bench and I sit down next to her. I can tell that she's looking over at me, gazing at me with those wide blue eyes. They make me uncomfortable. Her eyes are so pleading that it almost hurts when I turn and actually look into them.

"Buffy," I say quietly.

"You've been so distant," she whispers, her hand moving up to cup my cheek. It is remarkable how different her hand feels against my cheek than how Xander's hand feels.

"I've been busy."

"I know that we can't ever be together. . ."

"That's right, we can't."

"But I want to see you. I want to know whether you're still breathing. . .okay, not breathing, but you know what I mean," she says, an odd look on her face.

"I'm fine but I can't exactly leave him alone right now. And I can't take him out either."

**

After another thirty minutes, they left. I promised to be in touch if anything should change and they promised to keep their distance until I thought Xander was ready. By the time I reach the bedroom I now shared with Xander, the last drop of arousal from Xander's feeding had fled. I open the door to the room and smile as I see Xander sleeping naked on the bed. His chest is rising and falling as he has not yet given up the habit of breathing. I walk over to him then sit down, letting a finger trail down his face.

I didn't mean to wake him, but his eyes open. He is staring at me, but unlike with Buffy, I don't feel uncomfortable. Without even looking, I can tell he was hard and aroused. Without a word, I move down, placing him between my lips. Glancing up, I see him still just staring at me.

With my fingers sliding up and down the shaft of his cock and my mouth sucking on the head, it only takes a few short minutes before he comes, flooding my mouth with his salty essence. When I move back up the bed to lay next to him, he turns away so that I'm left looking at the back of his head. "Xander?" He doesn't respond. All I hear is his deep sigh, but that is all I need to hear. "It's not like I invited them over. I didn't tell them anything other than that you were adapting." Still, nothing. I still cannot believe that this is Xander. When I said that he was quiet and reserved to the others, I was being painfully honest. He rarely says a word anymore.

Which may be nothing at all. I don't speak much either and so everything that passes between us is unspoken, just as he wants it. Still, everyday I can feel him relying on me more and everyday I feel more and more connected to him. I've come to depend on his teeth piercing my skin; I need to feel his lips against my flesh and the pressure of his sucking. I need that more than I need to have a conversation.

But at the moment, I want him to speak. I need to hear him, so I ask, "Do you want to go out?" I feel his body shift in surprise. "Just for a walk or something." I'm being desperate, I know it, but I want him to talk to me or at least look at me. If he would just look at me, things would go back to normal. I don't like how he's turned away from me. I don't like that he's not looking at me. "It's a nice night out," I whisper.

Finally, he rolls onto his back and looks up at the ceiling, considering, I suppose. "I'd like to take a walk," he says ever so softly.

So we end up walking all around Sunnydale. I occasionally glance over at him and see something indescribable in his eyes. There's sadness but something else too as we wander down the streets of his hometown. I let him lead, I don't exactly care where we go and I know that it's been a while since he's seen the sights of Sunnydale.

After a while, I find that we're in Miller's Park and he's kneeling down by the pond. His brow is creased as he just looks at the spot where he died. I can see the muscles of his jaw clenching and unclenching. It's so very hard for him. There's so much anger still in him and he has no way of releasing it. I hope that someday he'll get over this silent phase so that he can release what's inside of him verbally, but the more I think about it, the more I know that Xander will never be talkative again.

I stand there for what seems like an eternity until Xander raises his head to me and says, "I'm hungry." He gets hungry often, most likely due to how young he is and how his normal development as a vampire was interrupted. Not that I mind. Quite the contrary, I like when he's hungry and feeds from me.

"Let's get back then," I say.

He shakes his head. "No. I'm hungry now."

I think about that for a moment then ask, "You know you won't be able to take that much, right?" He nods as he stands up. He begins to walk towards the cluster of trees and I follow him. Once behind a large oak, he presses me up against it so quickly that I gasp in surprise. His fangs tear into my neck and instantly I'm hard, as is he. He's not feeding because he's hungry; he's being too playful for that. His teasing licks aren't meant to lap up life giving blood.

I growl, unable to stop myself, then grab a hold of his shoulders, swinging him around until it is he with his back against the rough bark of the tree. I pull back my head, only enough to get a good look at his face, even as my hips are thrusting against his. "Is this what you're hungry for?" I ask in a low voice. His only response is to wrap his arms around my shoulders and lift up, wrapping his legs around my waist.

I've never hated clothes so much in my life. If only he and I were naked. But this could be remedied, only that means that his legs would have to unwrap and our pelvises would have to part. As his tongue swirls along one of the tiny holes in my neck, I growl into his ear. "We should go."

"Here," he says, pulling his mouth away only a fraction of an inch.

I growl again as I grow impatient. I move back, then slam him hard against the tree, causing him to grunt. My hands move to his thighs and force his legs down and before he knew it, I rip his jeans down his legs. Quickly, I shove him, turning him around until he is facing the tree, his hands bracing on the trunk. One hand moves to unfasten my pants and the other moves around Xander's hip, stroking his cock. Giving a swipe at the tip, I scoop up the precome that had escaped from the small slit, then bring my hand back around.

When my pants are around my ankles, I wipe the precome from my own cock then lean in, pressing myself into his back. "No matter how we do this, it's going to hurt."

Xander bucks his hips back, driving his ass hard against my erection. I just chuckle and move back again, letting the hand that is moist with our mixed fluids trail down the cleft of his ass. He bucks back again and when I begin to coat his small hole with what little natural lubricant we have, he growls, wanting more.

With one hand on his shoulder and the other hand guiding my shaft to his entrance, I push in, past the tight ring of muscles. My hand leaves my dick and moves to his hip, pulling him back to me as I thrust forward. As I enter him completely, he grunts and I feel him tear to accommodate my size. I'm not worried. I know he can take it, he's no longer a boy. He's a vampire and if I choose to be rougher, he could take that too. But I don't necessarily want to be rough.

I pull back until just the head is inside of him and then I push back in swiftly. I do it again and he picks up on the rhythm that I'm building. When I thrust forward, he bucks back and our bodies smack together, echoing through the park. One of his hands moves from the tree and puts it on my hand that is gripped on his hip. Then, he's pulling on it, moving it around until my fingers are wrapping around his cock. Together we stroke in time with my thrusts. Hours pass like seconds as we just continue to move with each other, building up the sensations until we each can stand no more.

I make sure that he comes first and when I feel his body shudder, I come too, spilling myself inside of him. My eyes close and for a moment, I allow myself to sink forward, resting my forehead on his back. But the moment is interrupted as both of us hear people in the distance. Not just any people. Buffy and Giles are making their rounds. I pull out of Xander and without words we dress and silently move away from the nearing voices.

We're headed back to the mansion and I can tell by the subtle urgency in his movements that he's getting hungry again. I smile as I imagine him on top of me, his legs at either side of my hips and his face buried in my neck.

Whatever it is between us; whatever unspoken thing Xander and I share, I like it. I want it and more than that, I'm growing to need it.

~end~