*****
Xander watched Oz walk out the hotel's main doors with sorrowful eyes. The werewolf had once again gotten fed up with the Raphe's susceptibility to other people's emotions and had taken off for parts unknown. It hurt Xander that Oz left him, but it hurt worse to know that he was the reason that the other man ran away. If he could just learn to control his empathy better, they wouldn't have this problem.
Sighing sadly, Xander took to the stairs and went back to his apartment. It was a wreck, as usual, so he spent a few minutes picking up dirty clothes and throwing away Twinkie wrappers. It kept his mind off other things, like bright-haired werewolves and sad-eyed vampires whose masochistic tendencies drove him crazy. If Angel and Wil would get over whatever angsty shit lay between them and fuck themselves silly, he wouldn't be having problems. Well, maybe he would, but they'd be *good* problems.
Until then, however, Xander was left with urges he wasn't sure he wanted to fulfill. The intrusion of their emotions muddled his own, to the point that he couldn't tell what he wanted from what they desired. That, he believed, was what drove Oz away. Xander was sure that he wanted Oz-it had taken him long enough to admit it, but now that he had, he was confident in his attraction. Most of what he'd had to get over was a deeply ingrained homophobia courtesy of dear old dad. What Xander wasn't sure of was everything else.
A telltale tingle in the back of his mind told Xander that one of his neighbors was nearby-and experiencing an uncomfortable emotional rush. /Shit. Why me?/ Xander moaned silently as he felt the beginnings of aching lust pour into his mind. His body began to twitch and harden, even as tears welled up in his eyes. /I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this./
He walked quickly into the bathroom and started the shower, hoping that the pounding of water on his skin would distract him from the effects of Angel's misery. He knew it was Angel because Wil's emotions weren't this bitter. Hot water pummeled his back as he leaned his forehead on the shower wall. It wasn't helping, not one bit. He could still feel every emotion, every sensation. His teeth hurt from wanting to sink into Oz's flesh.
/Bit Oz?/ Xander thought to himself. He shook his head hard, trying to clear the mutated image from his mind. He hated it when his empathy tried to morph other people's emotions into his own. He growled and snarled, fingers clawing at the tiles. Nothing worked; his body was straining to be touched, to take pleasure in another.
Xander regretfully dropped one hand to his leaking cock. He hadn't been this hard in. well, since the last time Angel had gotten worked up over Wil feeding off him. He closed his eyes, trying to picture something disgusting, something that would make his erection soften and go away. Instead of the lunch lady, or the old guy who slept on the park bench down the street, or even Giles in a thong, he saw Oz.
/Not working, Xander's-brain,/ Xander admonished. His erection twitched and hardened further as images of the werewolf danced on his closed eyelids. Oz, running his hands down Xander's body, wrapping nimble musician's fingers around his cock. Rough, rasping werewolf tongue on his balls. He hadn't ever felt that, but somehow he knew it would drive him insane.
Blood in his mouth, pooling, sweet. The lust that that thought caused troubled Xander, but didn't slow his movements. /Fucking vampires,/ He cursed, even as he worked his hand faster and harder, bruising his flesh as he strained for release. Oz, biting him. /Ok, that's not so bad,/ Xander thought to himself. Oz sinking into his body, cock splitting him open. Oz peeling flesh from his back with sharp nails. /Ouch. Less pain, Angel. Please, less pain./
Xander sank to his knees, heedless of the crack of bone on tile. His body was shaking now; he couldn't remain upright. Tears poured unchecked down his face, mixing with water, as his mind took Angel's sorrow and twisted it. /So sorry, Oz,/ Xander thought as he saw the werewolf broken and torn, a victim of his twisted hatred and love. He tried to banish the vision, knowing that it wasn't true, wasn't real. When that failed, he tried to make the image of the injured Oz not be quite so erotic. That didn't work either. Even though his boyfriend's body appeared to be bloodied and battered, he wanted nothing more than to pull his legs apart and ram his cock deep inside.
The Raphe whimpered in pain and ecstasy. He felt his balls tighten and draw up. Xander loathed the idea of getting off to an image of Oz in pain, but at the same time he desperately needed to end this torture. He cried out in pleasure, relief and pain as orgasm rolled through him, blacking out his vision.
A few minutes later the now exhausted and strung-out young demon picked himself up off the shower floor, noticing for the first time how damned hard he'd hit his knees on the tile. Cursing every god, goddess, and minor deity he'd ever read about, Xander dried off and hobbled to his bed. He burrowed under the covers, hoping to warm up before long. If he shivered all night, he'd be even sorer in the morning.
It didn't take long for his body to adapt and recover, leaving Xander with nothing to do but think. He'd been considering stepping up his training for a while now. After the events of a few minutes ago, that seemed like an even better idea. At this rate he'd be dead long before he and Oz ever got around to sleeping together.
The End. Goodbye.