The Whimsical Notions Of A Desolate VampireBy Buddy
Angel wasn’t prone to entertaining whimsy, unlike his alter ego. He rarely had the time or such an interesting subject for it, and even if he had, he was seldom left alone to indulge it. But what else was there for him now anyway? He looked over at the crib that he still hadn’t had the heart to put away and then back to the sleeping form on his bed.
His thoughts flashed back to the hospital, hands around Wesley’s throat, sheer determination to choke the living daylights from him or at least the desolation from his own heart. Despite what he had told Wesley, was he evil? He didn’t need to be, not enjoy this opportunity; he just needed to have the courage take it. He laughed to himself; it would be a balm to his soul.
He stared, fascinated by the laughter lines at the side of Xander’s lips. They were deep for one so young; they must have taken up residence before he was ten years old. In a barely perceptible shift, his eyes flicked to the place above his top lip where dark shadow was housed; it had probably started popping by to say “Howdy,” before he hit his teens.
If he was to acknowledge that he was looking at him so intently, it might occur to him that he couldn’t seem to pull his eyes from the playground that was Xander Harris’s mouth. Xander Harris. But he didn’t, he pushed all conscious thought away and his eyes continued their stilted orbit around it, resting for an unrestrained moment on the twin dimples directly below his bottom lip.
A full bottom lip; that must have fought in the womb for half a share of the top lip, and won. In fact all that was left of the top lip was an exaggerated cupid’s bow that Angel resisted the urge to nibble gently until it swelled big enough to give it’s counterpart a run for it’s money. It was a worthy focus, especially if he considered the alternatives.
Xander was out cold, and banished thought processes tried to invade Angel’s mind. If he had been conscious, he would most definitely have drawn Angel’s attention to his peculiar perusal. In fact, if he had seen how close Angel’s face was to his own, he would have been pretty vocal about it. There might even have been violence, which certainly, in Angel’s souled incarnation, had no place in whimsy, but he didn’t know which he was any more.
Xander would be alright, Angel acknowledged that much, at least. He wasn’t sure why he’d passed out as soon as he had clapped eyes on him but he didn’t appear to be seriously ill. His heart was beating steadily and he didn’t have a fever. He’d simply toppled awkwardly towards the floor, not feeling Angel’s arms as they broke his fall, or the way they held him close as they carried him back to the hotel.
Angel stared transfixed as Xander’s mouth tried to form a smile and leaned closer to watch the dance of his lips as they twitched and stretched and failed to deliver. He relaxed his mouth, and a frown formed between his eyebrows. Angel didn’t move and his lack of breath left the air undisturbed. Finally, Xander’s face returned to its former repose.
Angel wetted his lips, not for the first time, and wondered. How many times could he taste him before he awoke? If he was gentle, could he trace the outline of his lips with the tip of his tongue? If he didn’t apply much pressure, could he touch his to them, and savour the weight of the imprint for a while? If he were to acknowledge that he was asking these questions, he would surely want to know why? Which ‘him’ should acknowledge them?
Then Xander’s eyes were open and earthy twin orbs of surprise and confusion were gazing directly into his own. He froze; where were his vampire reflexes when he needed them?
“Angel?”
The question broke his paralysis and he managed to move back slightly.
“Just checking you were still breathing.”
“And vampires need to be that close to do that?”
Xander tried to sit up and felt the familiar and unwelcome throb at the back of his head. At least the neon colour flashes had mostly dissipated, but his stomach surged and he fought down a wave of nausea. He flinched as a cool hand touched his face and concerned eyes increased his confusion. He knew why he was here; he even remembered what had happened.
What he didn’t understand was why Angel was being so … nice to him. He ignored him to looked around the room, and refused to enjoy the feel of the soft bed beneath him. If he did, he might want to stay there and that didn’t seem like a very good idea. If his head would just stop pounding for a moment, he would know why.
Angel helped him to sit up and put a glass of water to his lips. Xander stiffened at the feel of hands he’d mostly managed to avoid since he’d known him. He didn’t like him; everybody knew that, it was official; much like the Fourth of July was a National Holiday.
So it didn’t seem fair at all that he had to go and get a migraine on the drive over. It had been touch and go at one point if he would be able to keep driving, but luckily the blind spot hadn’t spread like it normally did and he got here just in time to faint away at Angel’s feet. He took a tiny sip from the glass.
“What‘s wrong with you Xander?”
“Migraine. Where’s Cordy?”
“She‘s still in Mexico with Groo. She doesn’t live here anyway, remember?”
Xander took the glass from him and Angel retreated to the furthest corner of the room. He needed a holiday, or a staking. What the hell had he been doing? Xander hated him and he was … had been, entertaining thoughts about kissing him. Bereavement did strange things to vampires as well as humans; and somehow this was worse than when Buffy died. Of course, it was his child, something he thought he would never have. Oh god, this was so much worse.
“Thankfully I do, now that you mention it. I so don’t wanna be here with amnesia. In fact for the record, and just so we’re clear, I didn’t want to be here at all.” He closed his mouth with a snap.
Angel stared at him and though he strove to keep his face neutral, he knew that Xander caught the slight crumple of his lips. He hadn’t been too keen on the idea of Xander coming to LA in Buffy’s place either, but someone had to, Dawn was sick. It could have been worse, they could have sent Spike. Would he have indulged himself in the same way, if it had been Spike lying there instead? Angel felt stirrings below as his mind tried to bite back memories; he would already be buried in his ass.
“I’ll get you some ice.”
Xander stared at his retreating back. Why couldn’t Angel have sent it by courier if he couldn’t bring the damn thing himself? And why couldn’t he bring it himself? He didn’t see clients beating down the doors, or hear the phone ringing off the hook and oh god, he wished he could just stop being an asshole. The migraine, he blamed it on the migraine.
Angel returned only a few minutes later and handed the icepack to Xander, who swung his legs off the edge of the bed and fought off another wave of nausea before applying it to his aching head. Perhaps if he ate something he might feel better.
“Do you have anything in this place beside blood?”
“Not in here, I’m afraid. Fred’s probably got something you could eat, though she normally eats out with Gunn, is in fact … tonight. Why don’t I order you something? What’s good for migraines?”
“Just crackers or bread would be fine. Carbohydrate’s help settle my stomach. I don’t think I’m going to be able to go back to Sunnydale tonight, will that be a problem?”
“I have lot of rooms Xander, they’re not all habitable but …” Angel trailed off when he saw the look on Xander’s face.
“The bathroom’s that way.” Xander bolted.
~*~
Xander lay staring up at the ceiling. He chose not to think about the fact he was still on Angel’s bed and counted the cobwebs in the corners instead. He did feel better, sleep was usually the best thing for a migraine, that and throwing up. His mouth could have tasted worse, but he had squirted toothpaste on his finger and rubbed it around his teeth, in an attempt to get rid of the sourness left behind.
Was he well enough to just collect what he came for and drive back to Sunnydale? He sure as hell meant to try. He had never been so surprised in his life, as when he’d opened his eyes to the searing gaze of swirling pools of topaz. He had caught them so unaware, that he had seen an unnerving look of longing in them. He had been sure then that he had a concussion, that was the only possible explanation.
Then Angel had moved and the moment had been broken, maybe he’d imagined it, he was sick. He could hear Angel sitting doing nothing in the armchair outside the door and he desperately wanted to fill the deafening silence. He had been awake again for maybe twenty minutes and he thought it both bizarre and apt that Angel hadn’t yet spoken.
Angel sat in the armchair pinned to the spot. He had sensed the moment Xander had woken and was incredibly relieved that he hadn’t caught him this time. He knew he couldn’t afford to indulge in any more whimsy, nor could he go back to non-acknowledgement. Yet he couldn’t help the thrill he was getting from his voyeurism. He let out a deep sigh, put Connor’s bear on the floor at the side of him and remembered watching Xander’s face for the second time that evening.
How his eyelashes had splayed out softly against his skin in sleep, under the smooth contours of his eyelids. The way the sockets fitted into the side of his nose, joined by little dips, picking up shadows that resembled muddy water. The way his eyeballs had thrashed about as he entered REM, and the absurdity of his vast eyebrows. Angel couldn’t resist them and he had reached out his tongue to lick at the salt, forcing himself to stop before he got carried away. He didn’t really know why.
Angel jumped at the hand on his shoulder. He looked at it for a long time before he figured out it was real and not an illusion, carried over from his musings. Xander looked pale and the shadows around his eyes had deepened, but he looked better than he did after his trip to the bathroom. Angel still couldn’t work out why the hand was there and then it was gone.
“Thanks man, I’d better hit the road. Where is it?”
“It’s boxed up, over there on the table. I’ll get it for you. Make sure you keep it the right way up. In fact pack it tightly in the trunk of the car. I would have brought it myself …”
“Why didn’t you?” Xander stared at him impassively, a look that usually graced Angel’s face.
“My son’s missing Xander, my team is falling apart and I couldn’t face …I didn’t want to see Buffy. Couldn’t, not after the last time, after she came back. And not now with Connor missing. If she had come out here, I was going to get Cordelia to give it to her, I’m pretty sure she would have bought any flimsy excuse, she’s not keen to see me either. I’m sorry, I hope you can understand.”
Xander suddenly felt guilty and really tired. He knew he had only just woken up, but he couldn’t remember the last time he had slept that well and it had merely whetted his appetite. He swayed on his feet and Angel was up out of the chair like a shot and clasping the tops of his arms to steady him.
“Sit down. You don’t have to go back yet. Why don’t you stay?”
Xander realised he wanted nothing more than to do just that. Angel of all people was showing him more concern and consideration than anyone had for a long time, despite his own losses, despite the fact he was being such a bastard. He closed his eyes and passed a shaky hand over them. He missed Anya desperately. A huge wave of loneliness swept over him and tumbled him backwards into the seat Angel had vacated, Angel’s hands still on his arms. They bumped heads and Xander winced. It wasn’t a hard knock and he didn’t think it would bring back the migraine but Angel’s close proximity might.
His lips were inches from his own and Xander’s vision narrowed down to the perfect heart shape of his mouth and before he even thought to stop himself, he was leaning forward to close the distance between them. Such a short distance, but it seemed to take forever for his lips to reach Angel’s in a soft, sweet, crushing kiss.
Angel closed his eyes as soon as he saw Xander move towards him. This had to be a dream and he wanted to make sure he savoured every moment before he woke up. Then his lips were on his and his startled eyes flew open as Xander’s touched his so gently. Then he pressed his nose against his cheek, nuzzling him, and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, pulling him in for more.
He laved at Angel’s bottom lip and then teased across his filtrum. Tiny darts of pressure that left a trail of fire. Angel sank into his lap, relinquishing the remnants of pretence and parted his lips more than willingly. Xander felt the heady control go to straight to his groin and he stilled, then he moved back for a moment to see if Angel would move. Angel looked up at him, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth and simply waited to see what he would do next.
“I’m sorry …, I’m so sorry Angel, you must feel terrible.”
Xander lifted his hand and kissed the palm, before taking his middle finger into his mouth. He played with it, sliding his tongue up and down it and dragged his teeth along the same path. Angel watched him mesmerised and thought about him doing that very thing on another, less innocent part of his anatomy. Xander let his finger go and the air was cold on his wet skin. But warmth covered his mouth once again and Xander swept his tongue teasingly across his hard palate.
Angel’s hands crept up the sides of his face and slid leisurely into his hair. He massaged his scalp and chased his tongue with his own and his cock stood to attention when Xander deepened the kiss. Xander thought it felt peculiar kissing a male, the contrast between soft lips and stubble something that he had never considered before. But he had considered often why he always ended up kissing people he didn’t like. He didn’t have an answer.
The chair was too small for both of them, and Angel was grateful and surprised when Xander picked him up and carried him back to his bed. He was also amused at the absurdity. He put him down and lay at the side of him, just looking into his eyes.
“What are we doing?” Xander asked him, in a whisper, but Angel silenced him with another kiss.
He took hold of Xander’s hand and placing it on his side encouraged him to stroke the firm length of his torso. Xander hesitated at first, but curiosity got the better of him and he let his hand roam over ribs and taut muscle. Angel slipped his tongue in his mouth and stroked his, tasting toothpaste and warm breath and something slightly bitter. He cupped his cheek and nibbled at his chin and jaw, and after trailing kisses down his throat nuzzled his pulse point.
Xander pushed at shirt buttons and in frustration rolled over to straddle him, ripping them off in his haste to get to skin. He’d admired this body before, just not in the way his was doing now. He’d always been jealous of Angel’s perfect shape and the way clothes had hung from his frame like he was some kind of man-sized coat hangar. Now he just felt covetousness and he leaned in and claimed one pert nipple with his teeth.
Such smooth cool flesh, and he smelt really good and Xander moved to the other nipple after licking his way across his chest. Angel writhed under his touch and a soft gasp escaped his lips as Xander made his way down to his belly button, dipping his tongue in and out so many times that Angel briefly wondered if he had a navel fetish. He stroked up and down his abdomen and sat back across Angel’s hips to watch the result of his ministrations, before getting off and kneeling between his thighs.
Angel groaned, and it felt as though his erection multiplied when Xander inadvertently brushed against it. He almost laughed; it felt like he had so many cocks and not enough places to put them. Then Xander was taking care of all of them at once, the heel of his hand pressing gently up the outline of the straining flesh beneath his trousers, coalescing them back into one aching need. He reached out to touch him but Xander caught both hands in his and raised them above his head.
He held them there with one hand just whilst he lowered Angel’s zipper with the other, unconsciously licking his lips at the thought of liberating the hard length he’d traced only moments ago. He didn’t know what the hell he was doing, or how to do it, but it seemed his hands did. And his mouth, for it dropped to Angel’s weeping shaft and licked at the pre-cum forming in tiny beads on the head. It tasted salty and bitter and not as unpleasant as he’d expected and he decided he could easily cope with tasting some more.
Angel forced himself not to buck up, not to fuck his beautiful mouth when the thing he wanted most in this moment was that warm cavern surrounding him. He fisted his hair again as he licked up the underside, before sliding his tongue into the slit and then circling the sensitive rim. Then he engulfed him, sliding his mouth up and down, sucking and licking and tapping his tongue against the crown.
Xander slid his trousers over his thighs and Angel kicked them to the floor. Xander rammed his hands under Angel’s ass cheeks, raising his hips off the bed and he was relentless. Relaxing his throat and taking him in deeper and deeper with each downward sweep, kneading his buttocks and driven on by his whimpers, relishing his control and Angel’s submission. He was getting so much pleasure from Angel’s pleasure that he almost missed it when Angel stiffened, the only warning given before he flooded his throat with come.
Xander swallowed what he could but couldn’t stop the dribbles that leaked from his mouth and dripped down the sides of his chin. Angel wondered idly if his soul would leave his body, but decided he would simply wave it ‘ta-ta’ if it did. He opened his eyes to see Xander wiping his come from his face, and his softening cock hardened again.
He growled and sat up quickly, almost spilling Xander from the end of the bed. He pulled him upwards roughly and fastened his lips over his, tasting himself and a faint trace of blood from mashing Xander’s lip against his teeth. It was maddening, and tantalising and he willed his morphing features back to normal, and then pinned Xander to the bed underneath him.
Xander’s mind was in free-fall. It was official, he was deranged and this was some kind of paranoid delusion. There was no way any sane person would sleep with a creature of the night and forget so easily how they could rip out your throat with their teeth. But that wasn’t the best part, oh no! The best part so far had to be how a flash of fang had almost been enough to send him over the edge without his cock having been touched.
That was until now. Angel had divested him off his clothes in under forty seconds and had worked his way down his torso in no time at all. Yet each place he had visited felt like it was still being touched and surrealism flooded his mind as Angel worshipped his body. He pumped his weeping penis with a loose fist and sucked him in counterpoint, stroking his balls lightly before sliding down to his anus and thrusting one finger inside. Xander choked out something incoherent when Angel crooked his finger against his prostate, the rough intrusion turning to pleasure before he’d registered the burn.
And then he was coming. His hips pistoned upwards and his cock touched tonsils whilst Angel thrust his finger into him quickly, again and again. At last his ass slumped back against the bed to the feel of Angel swallowing around him. He reached for him blindly and put his arms around him as he sank over the top of his body. Miraculously he could move his mouth and was able to return the kisses that he offered; they tasted of both of them and he couldn’t get enough.
Angel rolled to the side of him and dragged the comforter around them. Xander curled his body around him and drifted into sleep: Angel followed him shortly after.
~*~
Angel awoke when the warm comfort at the side of him disappeared. Silently Xander dressed himself without once looking back at the form lying still in the bed. Not once talking to him until he had his coat on ready to leave. Angel felt the familiar despair fill his heart and unable to will a mask over his face, merely flung his arm across his eyes.
“I have to go. Buffy needs the statue for tonight.”
Angel took a deep, very necessary breath. He might not need the oxygen but the action should steady his voice.
“Don’t forget to pack it tightly and keep it that way up.”
“I will. Angel?” Angel looked at him at last and took in another breath at the compassion on Xander’s face.
“I hope you find him. I think you will.”
“Thank you. I have to believe that.”
Xander knelt down at the side of the bed and put his hand on Angel’s cheek. Angel instinctively leaned into it and yearned for the kiss before it was offered. Xander tasted addictive and he wanted to ask him if he would ever come back. But he knew that compassion wasn’t the same thing as admiration and Angel could be brutally realistic if had to be; Xander didn’t like him, not even a little.
Xander got up to leave and threw Angel an unreadable look before he told him goodbye. Then he was gone.
~*~
Xander was very careful carrying his box out of the Hyperion and it wasn’t until he stood on the sidewalk outside that he realised he wasn’t sure which way to go. He looked briefly back at where he had come from and decided he’d figure it out on his own. What was the point in going back in there now? He had to go before he could think about how much he wanted to stay.