*****
'Xander!' a voice shouted. The boy, grappling with a vampire who would not lay down and die, did not look to see who was calling him. Buffy had taken off after the leader of the pack, and the group of friends was aware that they were slowly losing ground to the rest of the gang.
Xander managed to break free from the iron grip of his insistent new playmate and turned around to put some distance between them when a fist flew out of nowhere and sent him reeling backwards into the arms of his waiting enemy. Strong arms grasped him from behind, and out of the corner of his eye he could see Willow and Oz circling a grinning vampire, their stakes raised ready to take her on.
'Hey,' he said to the vampire clasping him firmly from behind as the other advanced towards him, 'If you guys leave now, you might just make it back home before your moms wake you up for school.' The vampire increased his grip around his chest and Xander felt his knees begin to weaken as the advancing vampire grinned at him, dirty fangs lengthening as his face turned.
Xander looked away, struggling to free himself. The vampire was now in front of him, and Xander lifted a foot to kick him hard between the legs. He let out a loud yell as his foot connected not with the dead flesh he expected but rather what felt like solid bone, actually more like iron, although he hadn't spent a lot of time kicking metal. The vampire lashed out at him, and Xander gasped as a hard fist smashed into the side of his face, and he slumped in the arms of the vampire behind him. The vampire reached back again to strike him and there was the sound of something snapping as the vampire stopped, his arm raised above his head. Slowly the vampire's face turned from a gleeful smirk to a pained grimace.
Xander looked up expectantly to see the vampire's arm snap backward as he uttered a blood-curdling yell and vanished in a cloud of dust. Xander felt himself falling as the vampire holding him leaped backwards and ran off, chased by Oz. Willow ran over to him and caught him as he fell to the ground. With his head in her lap he looked up at her, and as he drifted slowly into unconsciousness his eyes followed a long dark coat which seemed to continue upwards unendingly, and he passed out as he saw the impassive face of Angel changing back.
'What are we going to do?
Willow cradled her seemingly lifeless friend in her arms. She smoothed the hair off his face, which was smeared with blood and turning a deeper shade of blue as bruises started to well up on his cheeks. His bottom lip was cracked and a small trickle of blood was slowly drying there. 'We can't take him home like this, or go to the hospital - how, how would we explain this?' she asked, looking up at Angel. She was breathing heavily from the fight and with concern for her friend. 'It's not like we can put down "Unruly vampires" when they ask for "Cause of accident,"' she said, turning back to look at Xander.
'Maybe, maybe we can take him to Giles' place,' she said, with a worried look on her face. Giles would be major unhappy about the situation. He had "expressly forbid" them from hunting tonight until they knew exactly what they were dealing with, but of course Buffy wasn't listening and as soon as they left the library she had organized them into a search party.
'We're going a-huntin' ' Buffy said, and the others had followed, although Willow had planned to spend the evening with Oz, some candles, and a few love spells she had just learned from a new set of books at the library. Xander had planned to, well, not exactly planned, but the basement was waiting for him with chocolate, ice cream, and reruns of the Three Stooges, who were seriously underrated, in his opinion. But a few more hours in the company of his friends was definitely better than any amount of solitude, no matter how much chocolate was around.
Angel stood above Willow and Xander, looking at the boy. His expression remained inscrutable, and the silence continued while Willow waited for him to make a suggestion. At the very, least she needed him to carry Xander, if he couldn't come up with a plan. Suddenly he stooped and picked up the boy in one movement, as if Xander weighed no more than a soft toy. 'I'll take him back to my place,' said Angel. 'I'll be able to fix him up a little, and he can rest without worrying about explaining all this,' he said, gesturing at the boy's face with his chin.
'O.K. Great! I won't say anything to Giles,' replied Willow, 'I don't think I want to be the one to tell him. I'll call Buffy when I get home and tell her what happened.' She paused and looked at Angel expectantly, and he stared back at her.
'Fine,' he said finally, and she breathed out a sigh of relief. As they walked slowly out of the alleyway where they had been cornered, they saw a short figure walking slowly toward them.
'Oz!' shouted Willow, running up to her boyfriend, who paused and hugged her. 'Are you all right? What happened?' she asked, touching his bruised face, and he flinched. 'It's cool,' he said. 'He managed to get away from me a couple of blocks from here. The guy could really move.' He looked past her and saw Angel with Xander in his arms. 'What's up?' he asked Willow, gesturing with his chin at them. 'Is Xander o.k.?' 'He passed out after you left. The vampires were ready to...' she paused and looked down as her eyes welled up. 'But Angel was here,' she said, looking up and smiling tiredly, 'and he's going to look after Xander tonight.' 'Good,' said Oz, 'cause I really need to get this vampire stench off me,' he said, sniffing his arm and holding it away from him. 'I'll take you home,' he said. 'Oh, o.k.,' and Willow tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice as she spoke.
She turned to Angel and said, 'Will he be o.k.?' Angel smiled at her for the first time and replied, 'Sure. Don't worry. I'll look after him. You guys go on home, I'll let you know how he is tomorrow.' Willow smiled at him and said 'Thank you, Angel.' She looked at him and he returned her smile, before walking past them, Xander in his arms. 'Come on,' said Oz, 'the van's parked across the road. I don't want to spend too much time out here after what just happened.' He took Willow's hand in his and they walked out of the alley into the brightly lit streets.
The streets were quiet as Angel carried the boy home in his arms. He stayed close to the shadows, avoiding the main streets. It was one thing to take a victim at random in a dark alley, another to knock him out and take him home through brightly lit streets for the entire world to see.
Luckily for him, the residents of Sunnydale had long ago learned that a night at home, or at least indoors, was much better for their health than sudden and inexplicable death. Xander was light in his arms as he walked, and he wondered just how much of a beating the boy had taken tonight. One thing was for certain, he was resilient. He had showed his courage on many occasions, fighting with his friends, even though he possessed no supernatural slaying skills, or even mild witchcraft to help him.
Angel was constantly amazed that they never suffered any great harm - they always managed to bounce back like a rubber ball, no matter what the hell was thrown at them. He smiled, and thought, 'No matter what Hell throws at them.' He did not worry about the others, now that Willow and Oz were together, and Buffy, well, Buffy would emerge from it unscathed, minus a few scars on her perfect face.
He could see her face clearly in his mind, and knew that it was seared there eternally - a face that had given him so much hope and contentment, and it was one he did not want ever to forget. Despite the coolness that now surrounded their relationship, he felt a bond with her - they were opposites and the same. She was the good he tried to find in himself, he knew that his darkness drew the raw energy of the slayer to the surface, and together they tried to maintain an equilibrium that allowed them to walk in the real world.
As he neared the old mansion that was home for him, Angel thought of the boy in his arms. How long would he take to recover? The wounds on his face would heal, but he could tell by the way the boy slumped against him, that he was exhausted from the fight, and that would probably take the most out of him. Closing the door behind him, he leaned against it in the dark hallway. Every time he returned there it was from a confrontation of some sort, vampires, Buffy.
'Buffy!' he said, surprised to see the slayer waiting for him in his room. 'Oh my God!' She rushed toward him, looking at the boy in his arms. 'Is he o.k.? What happened to him? I shouldn't have left them alone but the head honcho guy really got on my nerves.' 'He's fine,' replied Angel, just a few bruises, but I think he's worn out. Willow and I decided it would be best for him to stay here for a while, at least until he can face the world again.' 'Is Willow o.k.? What about Oz?' 'They're fine, really,' said Angel. 'Oz took Willow home. She said that she would call you. She also decided not to say anything to Giles. I think she thought that might be better coming from you.' 'Oh, Giles,' said Buffy, and a shadow crossed her face. 'Yeah, well, if we waited around to find out exactly what we were dealing with each time a new gang of bad guys showed up, we'd be... we'd be, well, we'd be...'
She slowed to a pause, and Angel could tell she was worried about what the watcher would have to say about the situation. 'Hey, look,' he said, 'everyone is fine. Just a few bruises, and you did manage to get a few strikes after all.' 'Well,' but she did not look convinced.
'I'm going to head on home,' she said, 'call Willow, and take hell from my Mom.' 'O.k. I'll let you know how he's doing tomorrow.' They looked at each other in awkward silence for a few seconds. 'O.k.' Buffy replied. She looked again at Xander, before turning suddenly and walking out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her.
Angel continued looking at the door for a few seconds after she had closed it. 'She didn't ask me how I was doing.' he thought, without bitterness. Things had changed, he would have to get used to it.
Laying the boy gently on the bed, Angel stood and stared at him for a long while. The boy, despite his bruises, still had the glow of life in his face. His mouth seemed to be curling at the corner where the blood had dried, as if the boy's constant smile had been imprinted on his face, and remembering the smile Angel's own mouth moved slightly, but he turned away abruptly and strode across the room. He picked up a shallow wooden bowl, which he half filled with water from a jug and returned to the bed, where he sat beside the boy.
Picking up a soft piece of cloth, he slowly dipped it into the water, and looked again at the boy's face, at the bruises, the dried blood. Drops of water slipped off the cloth and into the water as Angel looked at him. Slowly, as if he could wake the boy, Angel reached forward and placed the cloth on the boy's brow. He moved the cloth slowly across the face beneath him, gently removing blood and brushing away damp wisps of hair. He repeated his actions until the boy's face was a battered but clean semblance of what it once was.
Angel knew the wounds would heal but he felt a tender pity for the young face, a face that now looked older and more experienced than the boy could possibly be. He thought to himself that no-one, certainly not this boy, should know such pain in life. Angel realized that he knew nothing about the boy. He knew his name, 'Xander', he said to himself, and he repeated it, so softly that no-one could have heard it, 'Xander.' He looked at the Xander's clothes, the t-shirt now bloody and torn, the jeans and gym shoes coated in grime from the alleyway.
Angel stood up, and walked to a drawer across the room. He looked at the clothes inside and removed a t-shirt and what would have to pass as pajama bottoms and returned to the bed. He stared again at the boy, and allowed himself to realize how much he was enjoying looking at the boy. He felt a tenderness toward him which he would never have suspected, which he rarely allowed himself to feel. Helping people was his job, a job he had done for a long time now, and he never allowed himself the time to care about them as individuals. Individuals complicated matters. You couldn't walk away from an individual as easily as you could from a 'victim'.
He reached out and lifted the boy by the shoulders, attempting to remove the t-shirt, but the boy's arms were limp and Angel had to struggle to keep the boy upright. The boy's face brushed against his often, and he could feel the strange warmth of the living, warmth that both attracted and repelled him at the same time. Attracted him because he wanted to be near it, to feel it, but repelled him because it was something he could never really feel, and he felt sometimes, not exactly ashamed, but how many people would choose to feel his cool skin against theirs, constant reminder of their difference?
Removing the boy's arms eventually, Angel found it easier to replace it with the clean one, and he then removed the shoes and pulled down the boy's dirty jeans. There was a scrape on his knee and more blood had dried there, but it was easily removed with the damp cloth, and Angel pulled the clean 'pajamas' up the boy's legs, carefully avoiding the bruise on his knee.
Angel couldn't remember feeling so protective of someone in a long time. It was different to fighting alongside Buffy and her friends. They had Buffy to protect them if things got too tough, and Buffy might need a back-up fist every now and then, but she did not really need protection. Xander, and he smiled at the thought of the boy's name, Xander, here, needed rest and care, and Angel was only too happy to provide it. Although the boy did not know what was happening, Angel still felt needed, and that was a feeling he liked tonight. He placed a blanket over the sleeping boy and arranged him in the middle of the bed where he could keep an eye on him. Dimming the lights in the room, leaving only a solitary candle burning by the bed, he pulled up a chair not too near the bed - he didn't want to frighten the boy if he woke up in the night - and settled down to watch him sleep.
Waking up, Xander knew immediately not to move too quickly, if at all. He was in a bed, which was definitely a good sign. His eyes would not open fully, which was not so good. He remained still, trying to recollect his thoughts, and he remembered clearly the fight, the vampire holding him, the other vampire's fist, Willow... Angel? Turning his head slowly he saw a faint glow from what must be a candle. He was definitely in a bed, but the room was too dark for him to see anything clearly.
He groaned and tried to his arms, which moved slowly, but moved all the same. They were sore at the biceps where the vamp had slow danced him from behind, and he tried to pull himself up in the bed. Raising himself onto his elbows he allowed his eyes to focus as much as they could, and he looked around with his eyes, not trusting his head to move without falling off. In the shadows, not far from the bed, was a seated figure that seemed to be watching him. A chill ran straight through his heart and he stared back at the figure, not daring to move any more.
They stared at each other, neither one moving, until Xander realized that whatever moment had just happened had already passed. The fear turned into curiosity and he dared to move his head to see more clearly, and although the dark enveloped the figure, he could make out the distinctive shape of a long black coat hanging down the legs of the figure. 'Angel!' He breathed out a sigh of relief, wincing as his sore lips hurt at the corners. He felt much calmer, and realized that Angel must be asleep. In a chair? Xander wondered at that, guessing he must be a pretty awful sight, and perhaps deadboy did not want to scare him too much when he woke up. Well, he had not quite succeeded with that last one, but the relief was worth it.
He wondered what had happened to the others, but if Angel was there, he guessed they had managed to cope. His throat and lips were dry and he looked around for a glass of water, but Angel had not left any by the bed for him, so he moved slowly in the huge bed, trying to reach the edge so he could get up. His knee hurt where he had fallen during the fight, and the rest of his body, well, his nerve-endings were popping like so much corn in a buttered microwave dish.
He swung, or rather, pushed his legs over the side of the bed and pulled himself slowly to his feet, holding on to the bed to steady himself. He saw his clothes beside the bed, neatly folded, and he glanced quickly at the clothes he was wearing. Clean, not smelly. He looked at the sleeping figure in front of him. The room was very dark, the candle was nearing its end and its light reached hardly more than a few feet into the huge room, so he picked it up and carried it with him.
He edged slowly past Angel, not wanting to wake him, and tried to find some water. There was a bowl with water on a table behind him, and he looked at, but it was dark and looked more like blood, which made him cringe. There was a jug on the table, and something sloshed inside when he shook it. Things were definitely looking up. He could not see a cup anywhere around him - 'guess deadboy doesn't drink too much of the stuff,' he thought. He placed the candle on the table and picked up the jug, bringing it to his lips. It was definitely water, and good. Oh, God, was it good. Definitely an underrated substance. He took the jug with him back toward the bed, placing it on the small table there and turned back to look at Angel.
The candlelight flickered over the sleeping vampire's face as Xander stood above him. Not such a bad face really, when it wasn't snarling at you, or looking at you like you were the smallest thing since sliced bread. Dark hair framed Angel's face, and his long lashes against his pale cheeks were dark in the candlelight, his lips like soft segments of fruit. 'Soft segments of fruit?' Xander caught up with his thoughts and smiled at himself.
In the still near darkness of the room everything seemed suspended. Angel was not deadboy, he was not 'Xan' the Man', with the horrible parents and the no-life. In this room, someone had taken care of him, had undressed him and dressed him again; had slept in a chair so that he would be comfortable and not frightened by his presence. Here, Angel had revealed a side of himself that Xander would never have imagined had he sat down and tried to think about deadboy, which he had never had any desire to do before. Reaching out slowly, fingers trembling, he tried to touch Angel, to wake him gently.
His hand stopped in front of his face and hovered there uncertainly, and thankfully he was saved from having to make a decision when Angel slowly opened his eyes and stared at the fingers in front of him. His eyes blazed a slow trail along the hand, up the arms, along Xander's neck and found home in his eyes.
They stared at each other for a long time, and Xander was unsure what to do with the hand still in front of Angel's face. He cleared his throat and stammered, 'H... Hey.' 'Hey,' said Angel, standing slowly, and the hand in front of him touched his chest as his large body loomed above Xander. Xander pulled his hand back, his fingers tingling with a strange fire from the touch.
'Are you o.k.?' asked Angel. 'You should get back to bed. Can I get you anything?' N... No,' whispered Xander, looking at him. 'Thank you. Thank you, for all this,' he said, gesturing at the bed, the clothes on his body. 'Don't mention it, it's the least I could do, but you should get back to bed. You took quite a fall.' 'What about you?' asked Xander, 'that chair doesn't look too comfortable. The bed is huge - I won't scare you.' He smiled up at Angel. 'O.k. If you promise,' and Angel smiled back at him. He took off his coat, and Xander stood awkwardly with the candle, lighting Angel's body as he removed his clothing, placing them on the chair. He remained in his t-shirt and underwear, and Xander just stared at his body. Angel was perfect. The thought escaped him before he could stop it, and he turned toward the bed so that Angel would not see the confusion in his eyes.
He got into the bed before Angel, who got in and pulled the blanket up over them. 'Thanks again,' said Xander, as the warmth of the bed seeped into his body, and he relaxed into the pillows. 'Anytime,' said Angel, and he leaned up and over Xander, who froze in anticipation. He could smell Angel's body, a pleasant, 'herby' smell, as he hovered over him. He looked up into his eyes, and Angel smiled down at him. 'Goodnight, Xander,' he said, leaning forward before blowing out the candle.
'Goodnight, Angel,' said Xander, feeling the ache in his skin as the vampire's cool flesh drew back from his where only a few seconds before it had hovered, creating and unbearable urge in Xander to reach out and touch him. They settled back under the blanket, neither wanting to sleep but rather to savor their thoughts and feelings about what had passed, if anything, between them, during the evening, a feeling of comfort and insight that they had gained, like windows into a new world.
*****
Part 2:
'Guys! Guys? You guys, wait!'
Xander was running with his friends, his heart beating faster and heavier in his chest as they tried to get away. He wasn't really sure why they were running at all, but running they were, and the panic came from trying to keep up with them. He sure didn't want to look back though, whatever the reason.
The others were getting further and further ahead now, and his legs ached with the effort - no matter what he did, he couldn't gain ground, he could hardly make them out anymore. He was getting hot, hotter than he had ever felt before and sweat was pouring down his body, making his clothes heavy, and slowing his steps.
Ahead of him the others suddenly gathered speed, and he could only look on, wanting to cry as they suddenly leapt from the ground and started flying away, and Xander panicked. He too tried to jump, but the witchcraft or supernatural strength seemed to have missed him and he shouted silently as they disappeared into the darkness, he couldn't even hear his own voice anymore and he fell heavily to the ground. His stomach lurched violently as the ground beneath him disappeared and he fell, his mouth moving voicelessly, and tears and sweat filled his eyes all the while.
'Please, please,' he whimpered, 'please, someone catch me,' and someone did. Suddenly he was still, he could feel strong arms enveloping him and he relaxed into the coolness and the dark, not knowing who, or why, and too tired to look around him. Sleep reclaimed the anxious boy as his breath calmed in the darkness.
Angel was hunting in the dark, hunting with a wild, overwhelming desire to claim something, anything that would take away the emptiness inside him. He couldn't remember the last time he had feasted on warm human blood, and the desire was nearly more than he could bear. His hunger drove him from the deeper shadow of the park and nearer to the streets with their bright lights, but he couldn't hear anyone moving, no matter how often he stopped, unmoving, silent.
He wandered at the side of the road, moving further and further away from where people could usually be found, in his search for the elusive prey. His senses alerted him to a faint heartbeat, and he paused and turned his head silently, eyes closed, trying to locate the source. He moved with soundless footfalls towards a pulsing heart, unsuspecting in the dark. His eyes located the source of the heartbeat and he paused.
It was a deer. A small, timid looking deer, still, head raised, ears alert. Angel looked at the little animal and felt his hunger abating at the sight of its innocent gaze. He could see clearly into its eyes, deep, dark pools of brown, reflecting a distant light in its depths. As he stood and stared, the deer walked away with quiet steps, nearer to the road, looking carefully as it went. Was it alone? Angel could sense no other creatures nearby and he wondered at the bravery of the little creature as it moved in the darkness.
Musing on this, Angel was startled by a shocking feeling of panic that coursed through his body, and looking up he saw the deer, in the middle of the road, staring fixedly at approaching lights, its legs shaking beneath it, and without thinking, he flew into the path of the oncoming vehicle and without pause snatched the frightened animal as he passed. Blaring horns and the sound of tires swerving as the vehicle sped past into the night were the only sounds while Angel clasped the animal to him, his face buried into its shoulder.
He could feel the deer's fear as its heart beat unbearable rhythms against his chest, and he held on to it tightly until it started to calm beneath him. The deer sensed that it was not in danger, despite the unusual scent of the thing holding it, and it relaxed into the large arms, the pale glow of a street lamp above the only witness to what had passed.
Stillness surrounded the two figures in the middle of the bed, the glow of a dying candle casting a faint halo like a blessing on their sleeping forms. They slept closely, one clasping the other gently, tenderly to him, and together they fit like petals in a newly opened rose. Xander's arm encircled Angel from behind, and the other's hand held that of the boy on the pillow, close to his mouth.
Every few seconds a breath from Xander's mouth stirred the hairs on the back of Angel's neck and they resettled close to the boy's bruised and tender lips. They slept like this for what, in their deepest souls, was an eternity of peace, as if each had returned to a time before and beyond, beyond the womb, beyond the century, beyond time's imprint. To completeness and stillness.
*****
Part 3:
Xander drifted slowly and reluctantly out of a deep, peaceful sleep. Early dawn light was seeping into the room at the edges of the thick, heavy black velvet drapes hanging in front of the windows of the old mansion. He smiled unconsciously as he became aware of himself again, of the new vigor he felt in his limbs from the long sleep. He opened his eyes slowly into the soft light of the room where a candle burned tall on a marble fireplace across the room, and he stretched his arms slowly out, testing for aches as his eyes adjusted to the light. The bed was empty, and he felt a deep and sudden disappointment as his arms continued outwards unobstructed.
He raised himself on his elbows to look around the room but he could see no sign of Angel, as the events of the previous evening returned to his mind. He remembered the touch of Angel as his fingers had touched his chest, and he blushed at the memory. The sound of running water interrupted his thoughts and his eyes followed the sound to a door which he assumed to lead to Angel's bathroom. Suddenly the sound ceased and he heard the sound of movement behind the door. He stared bright eyed as the door opened and angel entered the room. He gasped inwardly at the sight of the vampire, naked except for a short white towel around his waist. Angel looked immediately toward the bed and smiled widely at Xander.
'Hey! Good morning,' he said brightly.
'Hey,' replied Xander, sitting up in the bed.
'Did you sleep well?' Angel continued to look at him as he moved across the room to stand by the bed. His damp hair hung across his dark eyes, and drops of water still glistened on his shoulders, light from the candle dancing like tiny sparks in them.
'Great. Really. I feel a lot better. I'm ready to take on anything you can throw at me!'
'I'm glad to hear it,' and Angel smiled again at him. 'I didn't wake you, did I?
Xander moved out of the bed as he said 'Nah. I don't think I've ever slept so well. I don't even remember dreaming,' and Angel looked up at him quizzically.
'If you want to take a shower, there are clean towels in the bathroom, and lots of hot water' said Angel, and Xander nodded and smiled again. 'Back soon,' he replied.
'Take your time,' Angel's voice followed him out of the room.
The bathroom was huge and spotless. Everything was made out of marble, and Xander saw clean white towels laid out near the shower. He picked them up and held them to his face. They were very soft, with that faint scent of herbs that he rembered from Angel's body as it hovered above him last night. The memory startled him, and he put the towel down and looked at the shower, still wet from Angel's use. Xander took off the clothes he was wearing, noticing that most of the stiffness had gone out of his body. Only his back ached a little as he bent over to remove the pajams. He stepped into the shower and stepped back as cold water sprayed his body. His nipples taughtened noticeably as he fiddled with the tap, adjusting the warmth of the water.
When he could step under the powerful shower he groaned as warm water cascaded down his shoulders, over his nipples and down his hips and thighs. Picking up a bar of soap he slowly rubbed it in his hands until he had worked up a thick lather, and he started rubbing it over his body, starting with his face, neck, under his arms, his chest. He lingered on his nipples, massaging them gently before continuing lower. His hands on his limp penis were expert as they massaged it gently and it responded to the smooth movement and friction built up by the creamy lather. Xander relaxed into the warm water and stroked himself gently, but suddenly caught himself and quickly continued down to his legs.
'What am I doing?' he asked himself, 'jerking off in deadboy's shower!' The situation amused him however, and he wondered if Angel had ever done that in the same spot where he now stood. The thought made his cock stir again, and he quickly turned off the tap and grabbed a towel. He rubbed himself briskly with it, removing water, rubbing his hair, trying not to think of his cock. When he was done he wrapped the towel firmly around himself and opened the door. Angel was back in the bed, one arm behind his head on the pillow. The blanket covered him up to his waist, and Xander saw the towel on the back of the chair. He tried not to stare as he wondered exactly what to do now.
'It's still early,' said Angel to him, 'come back to bed and.' Xander could not think of anything to reply to this. He wanted to get back into the bed, but was Angel naked in there? He couldn't turn around and go back to the bathroom for the clothes he had slept in, that would just be too prudish. But he also didn't want to whip the towel off in front of Angel. What was he supposed to do? Say 'Take a good look at this, deadboy!' and whip off the towel? Angel noticed his hesitation.
'I'll avert my eyes, promise,' he said, and covered his eyes melodramatically with the back of one hand. Xander laughed out loud, he had never imagined that deadboy had a sense of humour. He wondered what else he did not know about him. Quite a lot, he was beginning to suspect. Xander removed the towel and quickly placed it on the back of the chair. He half hobbled, half strode to the other side of the bed. He wasn't sure how exactly to move, but he was intensely aware that he was getting into bed naked with another guy. A guy who was, well, buff, there was no other word for it, and Xander felt just a little lanky in his own body next to Angel.
He pulled the blanket above his waist as Angel had done. No higher. No way was he going to look like the maiden aunt.
'Great place you have here,' he said, just a little too brightly for the room. He nodded his head appreciatively and looked around as though he had really never seen a more interesting room in his life, which wasn't too far from the truth. Candelabra hanging from the ceiling, candle burning on a huge fireplace, curtains so big they looked as though they could carry a ship around the world. His eyes continued around the room until they met up with Angel's own dark eyes staring intently at him, and Xander could not look away, awkward as he felt. Angel smiled at him and held his gaze.
'You're looking good,' he said, and Xander caught his breath. What? He was flattered, but did Angel just come on to him?
'Your face,' said Angel, the bruises have gone down a lot since last night.
'Oh, great, great,' and try as he could, Xander could not keep the disappointment out of his voice or off his face. Angel smiled, 'But you look as good as you always do, Xander,' and he reached the arm from behind his head and reached out to touch Xander's face. Xander closed his eyes as the cool fingers touched his cheek. He couldn't bear to look at Angel, in case he showed the desire and confusion that was in him. Angel's soft fingers continued their exploration of his face, moving from his cheek to brush gently against his lips. Xander tried to tell himself that Angel was simply examining his bruises, but he knew, or wanted to believe, that perhaps Angel actually wanted to touch him. How many people had wanted to touch him in that way? His mind could hardly registered the names of girls who had humoured him for a few days or a few weeks, before deciding he was like the brother they never had. His lips moved involuntarily as Angel's fingers continued to touch them, and he felt the fingers press gently on them, slowly parting them. He shivered with nervous excitement as his tongue tentatively reached out to taste the soft finger-tips and felt a responsive pressure. He parted his lips to envelop the finger and tasted it as it explored deeper and deeper. He lifted his hand and held Angel's to his mouth, licking the fingers slowly, excited and trembling at what was happening.
Angel felt Xander's excitement and enjoyed the boy's awakening desire. He had a deep awareness of Xander's need for tenderness mixed with sexual longing. He played with his mouth as the the boy licked and sucked his fingers with his warm, so warm tongue. Xander's face was beautiful. Despite what had happened to him, and Angel now knew more of Xander than Xander was aware, his face still maintained the glow of uncorrupted youthfulness and enjoyment in living. He moved forward until his face was less than an inch away from Xander's. The boy's lips stopped moving and he opened his eyes slowly to gaze into Angel's. Angel could see the uncertainty that was desire and fear, and he moved his face forward a little more so that his lips touched Xander's. He felt a tremor run through the boy as his tongue gently asked permission to enter the full lips. Xander responded with his own tongue and they tentatively explored each other's lips, tasting and nibbling slowly at first until Xander, accepting that his desire was being returned in full measure, moaned and opened his mouth to Angel's tongue.
The vampire moved closer to the boy, enveloping him in his powerful arms, and gasped at the sensations that ran through him as their skins collided. The blanket slipped below their waists as they moved in the bed, the Angel laying Xander on his back as he lay on top of him, his mouth hungry for the warmth of Xander. Xander's arms encircled the vampire's neck, holding his neck firmly as their bodies moved back and forth together like waves in motion. Angel's arms removed Xander's hands and pinned them to the pillow as he moved his mouth from Xander's and licked his way slowly down his earlobe to nestle in the soft crease of his neck. Xander let out a moan and arched his body as he tried to free his arms. He wanted Angel's mouth back on his, and his body was rippling uncontrollably as the vampire continued his way down his body. Letting go of Xander's arms, he grasped his hips as his tongue burned a trail down the chest beneath him to Xander's now tight nipples. Angel's teeth grazed them gently and Xander cried out in ecstacy. He had never felt anything like this before, he was unaware of the minefield that criscrossed his body, just waiting for the right touch to set off tiny explosions all over him.
'Oh, God!' Xander jumped as he felt Angel's tongue slip across his hips and slide along his erect penis. 'Oh, God! ah! ah!' Angel still gripped his hips as his tongue moved up and down Xander's now unbearably stiff cock. The shock of the vampire's lips as he engulfed him made Xander's arms strike the bed heavily, he did not know what to do with himself and his arms flailed as he moaned and rocked beneath Angel. His fingers sought out the vampire's head and he gripped his hair in fistfuls as Angel's mouth moved mercilessly up and down his cock. Xander felt himself beyond close to coming, he was sure he would burst instead, it felt like a year of cum waiting to force its way out of him. Angel's mouth released him and he felt a damp tongue against his tight balls. It swirled around, setting off more explosions as it explored Xander. Suddenly Angel's hands slid to Xander's ankles and lifted them up in one swift movement, spreading his legs and exposing the smooth crease that traced a line beneath his beautiful cock.
Xander cried out when Angel stuck his tongue deep inside him. Angel could feel the boy's smooth ring of muscle tighten as the surprise hit him, but just as quickly it relaxed and he could hear Xander whimpering now above him. He worked his tongue quickly in and out of the boy, slippery now with his saliva, and he felt a movement as Xander's hand flew down to grasp his cock. The boy pumped himself, moaning louder and louder as Angel fucked him harder with his tongue. He knew Xander was close, and his own cock had been ready to come for a long time, he was surprised the boy had lasted so long. He released Xander's ankles but the boy kept his legs in the air, not willing to let go of what he had just discovered.
Angel's hand grasped his own cock, now slick with pre-come, and he pulled firmly on it. Raising his head from Xander's tight ass he saw him grimace and swiftly stuck his middle finger deep inside him. Xander yelled a deep 'Ohhh!' as he came with Angel's finger deep inside him. Hot come shot over his hard nipples, which made him come even harder, over his neck and onto the pillow, riding Angel's finger. Quickly kneeling over him Angel added a thick, hot stream of come to Xander's and he threw his head back as far as it would go as he shot all over him. He stuck the finger in deep one last time and heard Xander moan before he collapsed on top of the boy, his finger still inside. They both gulped breaths of air deeply for a long time, neither moving or speaking, each glad to feel the other beside him, Angel basking in the glow from Xander's hot skin and the waves of love pouring out of him, and Xander luxuriating in the coolness of Angel on top of him. He closed his eyes as a tear slowly traced a line down his face, but for the first time in his life, Xander allowed himself to enjoy that feeling, knowing it was finally safe to do so.
*****