Safer 2
Xander´s still staring at Oz when Angel gets out of the front, but Oz doesn´t look his way again.
Angel goes around the other side to collect Oz and take him to the passenger´s side, where Oz slides in beside Spike.
As he braces himself against the seat, Xander´s stomach roils. Maybe he can make a break for it, when –– but no, Angel´s already opened the door and gotten himself in the back seat where Oz had been. These kind of doors don´t open without some kind of key from the inside.
Before he can think any more of it through, Xander shuts his eyes, shuts them against the faint light and the dead–end of the alley and the man sitting next to him.
Nothing happens. Except he hears Spike say, "Come on," impatiently, and an exhalation from the front seat a little later. So he opens his eyes, because he can´t just give up, only he doesn´t know where to look. A glance ahead shows Spike´s grinning in profile, Oz´s face fixed and serious, until Oz´s shoulder yanks forward, because Spike´s pulled his arm over to –– and so Xander´s gaze skitters over to Angel.
But Angel isn´t doing anything. He´s just sitting there, staring straight ahead.
Xander´s trying to breathe in and out slowly; his head pounds the way it does when he´s been underwater for a moment too long. And now he´s getting little flashes of memory to other times, after school, in someone´s basement or a friend of a friend´s family rec room. Xander has seen Oz kind of . . . grab and be grabbed by other friends of theirs –– Devon, other guys they hang with –– and sometimes they just wrestle or smoke up lying around on each other. Other times, Xander has seen them go off to a bedroom or into a garage or around back out by an old swing set.
Xander bites back a nervous murmur when he´s mentally added up those times in his head and realizes that Oz probably knows lots more about this stuff than he does. Or at least, it sure seems that way, because after a minute of very low conversation that Xander can´t quite make out, Oz leans down, disappearing past the sight–line of the bench seat.
In the warehouse district, with no other cars around and no people walking by, the sound of the zipper going down all of a sudden is really loud.
After a beat or two, Spike tips his head back against the seat, pieces of his hair poking through the wire barrier separating the two sections of the car, and says "Oh fuck, yeah, that´s it..." He laughs out loud and stretches out one arm, his left, across the back of the seat. But the other hand is down, maybe down in Oz´s hair, because Oz makes a muffled noise, like protest or choking. Spike´s laugh turns into a warning sound. It´s still a little playful, like "Uh uh uh!" with an imaginary accompanying finger wag, but still; it´s coming from a guy who carries a gun.
Then Xander hears only the wet sounds of lips and tongue and movement.
Angel sighs. The sound triggers a weird thought in Xander´s head, like maybe Angel is disappointed with him.
"Well?" Angel speaks at last. "It´s up to you. If you want, we can wait this out, wait for them." He gestures towards the front seat. "And then afterwards, I can take just you in to the station."
"Take me in to the station?" Xander echoes.
Angel nods gravely. "After we drop your friend off at his house, of course. Then Spike and I would take you in."
Xander starts shaking his head so fast he almost gets whiplash, no, no, because he doesn´t want to be in the car alone, just him and these two cops. No way does that sound like a good idea.
"Well?" Angel asks again.
So he reaches over to Angel´s dark blue trousers and black belt. His hands are shaking so much that he can´t make any of it work, so Angel undoes his own fly for him, and then slips Xander´s hand inside, where his cock is already getting hard.
When Xander looks up sharply, Angel´s eyes are dark, glittering at him. He takes an uneven couple of breaths as he tries to get his hand to move up and down without messing up by gripping too tight or too loose, and mumbles, "I´ve never done this before."
From the front seat, Spike laughs. "Not bloody likely, if your friend here is anything to go by. No, I´m guessing this´d be old hat to the two of you."
Xander feels his cheeks burn. "No, really, I´m telling the truth––"
Angel says, "It´s okay, it´s all right," and then he´s reaching his hand out. It´s all Xander can do not to flinch away as that big hand gets closer to his face.
But Angel only strokes Xander´s hair, threading his fingers through, combing out, and reaching down a little more to massage Xander´s neck.
It´s the first time an adult has touched him like that; really, touched him like any way since he was a kid and his mom used to hug him before he went to school in the mornings. It´s confusing and it´s overwhelming on top of everything else that´s led to this, and all of it makes Xander want to lay his head down and shut his eyes once more, to make it all just go away.
Before Xander knows it, he´s relaxing enough that Angel´s got him easing forward, leaning down, so that Xander is kind of falling against him and into his lap. He blinks to try to work away the sleepiness, but his eyes feel all the more heavy–lidded from Angel´s massaging touch.
The sleepy part disappears but quick, though, when Xander´s blinking at Angel´s cock, and stuttering "I––I . . ."
Angel smiles, a small but easy smile. "Just try it, a little at a time, okay? I´m not going to rush you."
The front seat bucks audibly while Spike swears at something Oz is doing.
Xander says, "Okay, I–– I guess . . . "
Angel shushes him, pushes his head down a little more, and says "That´s right," when Xander parts his lips and flicks his tongue out.
It´s not bad, really, not anywhere near as bad as he thought it might be. He still feels freaked out and kind of vulnerable, face down in Angel´s lap, trying not to think about where Angel keeps his handcuffs. But Angel´s making this rumbling sound like a cat, like Xander´s doing just what he wants. It´s kind of soothing but it sounds dangerous too, like he´s not really tame.
"You can do it," Angel murmurs in an encouraging voice as he increases the pressure on the back of Xander´s neck a little. "Come on, buddy."
Xander licks his lips and opens his mouth wider. At first he screws his eyes shut, figuring it´ll be easier on him if he just dives in and doesn´t think too hard about what´s happening. But when he eases his lips down, gagging just a little, Angel sighs and starts stroking his hair again. Not disappointed this time, no; more like he´s pleased.
"Feels good," Angel says in a low voice after a moment. "You´re doing such a good job, you know that? Trying this, for me."
It gives Xander a shot of courage, somehow, to hear that he isn´t messing up really badly. So even though he doesn´t open his eyes all the way, he stops squinting them shut, stops trying to block it all out. If he can concentrate, if he can do a good job, like Angel is saying, then it´ll all be over much sooner, and he can go home.
So he squirms forward a little, until he can work his hand in to Angel´s lap at the same time that he keeps his lips moving up and down, trying out little licks and working on going further on every go. He tightens his mouth without thinking as his sweaty hand palms Angel´s balls.
"Just look at you," Angel whispers, and in the back of his head, Xander knows that it´s so only he will hear Angel say it, not Spike, not Oz, not anyone but him. "Look so good like that, baby, trying your hardest."
Xander nods just a little, and swallows some of the spit he can feel rushing around Angel´s cock. When Angel inhales sharply and then gasps out, "That´s right, god, just like that with those pretty lips of yours," Xander feels himself flush with pleasure.
It´s fucked up. He knows that it´s fucked, he´s fucked, feeling stupidly proud at Angel´s words. But if he has to do this, if there´s no way out of it, is it so bad if he´s a little startled, a little relieved, by the thought that Angel thinks he´s doing something well? As far as Xander knows, there´s pretty much nothing he does really well, at least, not until now.
"Damn, you´re made for this," Angel says in a low voice. He´s scraping a nail lightly down the nape of Xander´s neck, and it´s making Xander shiver and suck just a little harder.
When Angel starts lifting his hips up, thrusting into Xander´s mouth, it´s slow and controlled, like he doesn´t want to give Xander more than he can handle but at the same time wants him to have a little challenge.
"You clever little slut." Spike´s voice breaks through suddenly, and Xander nearly jerks his head up to see what´s happening in the front seat. He stops when it strikes him that there´s admiration in Spike´s voice, as though he´s congratulating Oz the same way music teachers tell Oz that he has real talent, or the shop teachers comment to Xander that he´s good with his hands.
Still, he doesn´t think he could get through this if Angel were saying stuff like that to him. But he´s not, Angel´s not –– instead, he´s saying something about how Xander´s a good boy, he can tell, and how Xander looks so pretty doing this, and how Angel wishes he could show Xander how good he could make him feel.
Xander´s got a rhythm to it now, his lips pulling off Angel´s cock with a pop and then moving down in a slide of saliva, when there´s a burst of taste in all the wet, salty but not too bitter. Angel keeps on saying all these things about Xander, how Xander deserves so much better, pretty boy that he is, and somehow when one of his hand reaches to stroke and knead Xander´s ass through his jeans, Xander finds himself wriggling against the seat without thinking about it, because it´s starting to feel kind of good.
"Like that, don´t you?" Angel asks, but it isn´t nasty like what Spike has been saying to Oz. He´s sort of amused sounding, and the laugh that comes from low in his throat makes Xander´s skin go warm all over. "If we just had more time, huh? Would love to feel you . . ."
Just for a moment, Xander feels the thought form in his head that maybe it would be okay if they did have more time.
"What d´you think, then?" Spike´s voice comes from the front–seat. He sounds breathless, but like there´s a laugh on the tip of his tongue. "Your boy telling the truth? First time and all that?"
"Oh, he´s telling the truth," Angel says in a voice Xander can´t quite read at first. Angel´s tipping his hips up faster now, in a kind of swivel and roll, and it´s all Xander can do to keep his mind on that, as though it´s a test that gets a little harder at every section, a game that gets more challenging on every level he makes it through. But maybe Angel means he can tell Xander wasn´t lying because Xander isn´t so hot at all of this stuff.
" –– wouldn´t lie," Angel is saying with quiet assurance. "He´s a good boy, I can tell."
A wash of relief rushes through Xander, and he doubles down his efforts, trying some stuff he´s thought about someone doing to him, stuff that comes from night time thoughts, when he´s lying in bed and wondering if he´s ever going to get close enough for someone actually to touch and be touched ––
"Come on, now," Spike is saying, no longer with a laugh in his voice but impatient, maybe a little angry. Xander hears a grunt, and then Spike lets out a stream of incomprehensible curses before he says in a cold clear voice, "Now look what you´ve gone and done."
