Fandom: BtVS/AtS Rating: FRAO (adult) Summary: Words were so not gonna be helpful here, but touching Wes in this mood felt completely out of the question. In fact, keeping the width of the room between them seemed the better option considering the 'back-off' vibe he was getting. Or maybe 'fuck off' was a closer translation to the set of Wesley’s jaw, but that was not an option Xander was ready to consider yet. Pairing: Xander/Wesley/Giles Word Count: 6,264 Disclaimer: Giles, Xander, Wesley and the BtVS/AtS universe belong to Joss and co. I'm only borrowing them for a bit. Notes: Written for Sofy (soft_princess) in Round 27 (Xander) at maleslashminis.
Xander watched as Wesley yanked the crossbow's strap over his head and dropped the weapon on the table in the entryway. The simple table had been one of his first efforts to bring his own work into their home, and Wesley had praised the clean lines and smooth finish, often running his fingers over the surface with a small proud smile that Xander loved to see when they came home from the long and all too often tedious research sessions on the demon of the week. The carelessly dropped crossbow banged against the table top, the stock scratching a fine line into the surface.
Wesley continued to divest himself of weaponry, the two nine-mils next, magazines popped out before the weapons clattered onto the wooden table. Grimly Xander reflected that at least even in his present state Wesley made sure the guns were safe for handling by any slayer who might wander by and pick one up. Of course, he'd much prefer not to have them around at all--the guns, not the slayers--but that was definitely not a topic to broach today.
"I'm sure Rona will be okay," Xander offered, willfully ignoring the damage to the table for now and setting aside his stakes and axe before moving into the living room. He grimaced at the lameness of the words before he finished speaking. Words were so not gonna be helpful here, but touching Wes in this mood felt completely out of the question. In fact, keeping the width of the room between them seemed the better option considering the ‘back-off' vibe he was getting. Or maybe ‘fuck off' was a closer translation to the set of Wesley's jaw, but that was not an option he was ready to consider yet.
"No thanks to me." Wesley's growl competed with the clanking of glass as he knelt in front of the liquor cabinet and shoved bottles around. He emerged with a half-full bottle of Dewar's gripped in his hand.
Xander followed him into the kitchen and winced as the cupboard door banged open and closed in the wake of Wesley's quest for a glass.
"Hey, we got Vi away from the nest of wanna-be vamps. And can I just say how last decade it is to worship ‘the dark ones' and offer up a slayer. Been there done that." Xander shifted uncomfortably as he watched Wesley pour and down several fingers before pouring another. "Mission accomplished. A couple people got a bit banged up, but no one got dead. This goes firmly in the win column."
Wesley snorted and stared at the glass in his hand before knocking back the next drink.
"Look, cut yourself a break. We went in knowing it was a long-shot getting there before the vamps, and yeah, okay, it would have been great if the spell worked the way it was supposed to, but it's not like we didn't have a backup plan."
"Which we shouldn't have needed because I should be able to do that bloody spell in my sleep." Wesley slammed the glass down on the counter.
"And a couple of months ago, you wouldn't have been able to do it at all."
Xander swallowed against the angry, sick tension rising in his throat when Wesley ignored him. Knocking at the front door interrupted his flashbacks to a household marinated in booze and anger and pain.
When he led Giles into the house, Xander saw that Wesley had relocated to the living room and stood in front of the picture window that looked out on the lawn spread between their cottage and the manor house where the slayers resided. The dark glass reflected the lines of guilty pain in Wesley's face.
"Rona's suffered a broken arm, which she does seem to have a penchant for, and a few cuts and bruises but she'll be fine."
Xander let out a quiet sigh of relief as Giles detailed the damage. Her cut-off scream as she had hit the wall under the force of the spell still rang through Xander's mind. "Thanks for checking on her. I'll go see her in the morning."
"Dawn and Faith are with her, and she'll likely be released tonight."
"Good. That's good." Xander nodded, glancing at Wesley's resolutely turned back.
"Uh, have a seat. I'll just grab us something to drink." Xander gestured at the couch. As Giles sank back with a weary and grateful nod, Xander set about getting a glass of water for himself and one of the Old Speckled Hen ales that they had stocked in for Giles' visit.
Silence stretched as Xander perched on the arm of the sofa, fiddling with his glass. From the corner of his eye, he could see Giles glancing back and forth between him and Wesley. The knots in his stomach resumed their churning. Dealing with Wesley in this mood was hard enough. Having an audience, especially one they both respected and cared about, made him feel even worse about his inability to help than usual.
"Perhaps we should discuss what happened with the spell."
Xander glanced quickly at Giles, but it was too late to warn him off. Xander could have told him that talking to Wesley about his continued trouble accessing and managing magic was not entirely unlike shooting a vamp and then waving a bleeding arm in front of it. Fun and gaping wounds for everyone involved.
"There is nothing to discuss."
Yep, here it came.
Wesley turned to glare at Giles, and as stupid and ineffective as he knew it would be, Xander still wanted to reach out and gather the man in his arms to hold him against the hopeless despair that underlay the burning anger in his eyes.
"I will no longer perform any spell for any reason. I have proven again and again to be a complete liability when we are stupid enough to rely on any spells that I attempt. " Contempt dripped from Wesley's words. "I am worse than a magical null now because I am a bloody danger to everyone around me. It would be better if I was nothing more than an ordinary person off the street!"
Scorn twisted Wesley's face as the shouted words rang through the room and scorched a path across Xander's heart.
"That is quite enough." Giles stood and stepped in front of Wesley, blocking Xander's view, not that Xander was particularly inclined to look as he concentrated on breathing past the constriction around his chest. Ordinary person. Worthless and pathetic. Judged so by the derision in Wesley's tone.
Oh, Xander knew that Wesley had never felt that way about him, had never done anything to make him feel less important than the rest of them. In fact, Wes had praised his value on more than one occasion, including one particularly memorable time when not having a single magically inclined cell in his body had made him the one most qualified to retrieve a bespelled dagger they needed to vanquish a Tarlnak demon.
But that time and those reassurances paled under the booze-soaked anger and despairing contempt that hung in the air.
"It is clear that I was incorrect about discussing this tonight." Giles sighed.
Xander stumbled to his feet, avoiding looking at either of the other men.
"You know where the guest room is," Xander nodded wearily toward Giles. "Bed's all made up. I'll see you in the morning." He didn't bother addressing Wesley. Unable to suppress the bitter hurt that clenched in his chest, he turned and went into the master bedroom, closing the door behind him with a quiet click.
He fought to keep thought at bay as he went through the motions of preparing for bed. No amount of telling himself that Wesley's words arose from frustration and self-recrimination could fully dull the edge of his hurt.
Some time later, as he lay curled on the far side of the bed he heard murmured voices through the closed door. Better Giles than him trying to talk Wes down, he thought meanly. He was just an ordinary person and clearly unqualified to participate in discussions of magic and other Watcher-y concerns.
He took a shuddering breath and tried to clamp down on the anger as he turned restlessly in bed, trying to find enough comfort to fool his exhausted and bruised body into sleeping. They had been through rough times before this over the lingering consequences of the battle with Vail that had nearly killed Wesley and had left his access to magic alternately blocked and twisted out of control. But none of those prior incidents had resulted in a slayer suffering from one of Wesley's spells. Xander knew that upped the ante on the guilt and frustration involved. A few rounds of meditation on Wesley's part and some physical reassurances from Xander weren't going to cut it this time.
Tangled in the bedclothes and uncomfortable as he was, Xander froze immediately when he heard the door open. Maybe if he faked being asleep, he could put a few more hours between rounds before he had to face the hurtful words that he feared revealed the truth about the lack of esteem Wesley had for boring old humans in their demon-fighting world.
It seemed to have worked since Wesley slid into bed without a word. A sighed out breath scented of whiskey overlaid with the mint of Wesley's favorite toothpaste had Xander clenching his fists beneath the sheets. The smell reminded him of so many nights that they had lain twined together, sharing kisses of celebration or comfort after long days of research or battles. He ached for that connection, to hold and be held, but hurt and anger overrode the impulse to reach out.
Xander felt his own stiff tension echoed in the body next to him and hated it. The hours until morning stretched unbearably ahead of him, and without conscious thought, he scrambled from the bed, grabbed his pillow and headed for the door. A night on the couch was infinitely preferable than lying here with too much said and unsaid between them.
"Xander, wait. Please." Wesley's voice, broken with sorrow, halted him with his hand on the door knob. He heard the soft rustle of the bedclothes as Wesley shifted behind him.
"We can talk in the morning. I just," Xander hugged the pillow tight against his stomach, struggling to hold the hurt inside where it couldn't lash out and retaliate. "I can't be here right now...with you."
"Xander, I don't want you to go, but I...I understand why you don't want to be near me."
He heard the creak of bedsprings as Wesley stood.
"There's no need for you to leave. I'll go. I can move into one of the rooms in the manor held for visiting Watchers."
"Jesus, Wes!" Xander turned and threw the pillow at the wall, fury and fear racing through him. "I'm just asking for a few hours here, and you're ready to move out? What the fuck!?" A small part of his brain reminded him of Giles only a few rooms away, no doubt about to get an earful of the fight that they clearly weren't going to be able to avoid thanks to Wesley's martyr complex kicking in, as usual, at the worst possible time. As far as Xander was concerned, Angel had a lot to answer for in nurturing that particular character trait.
"You selfish, arrogant asshole. Yes, you fucked up a spell and you've been a total dick about it. Now you have some need to follow that up by fucking this up as well?" Xander gestured angrily between them, ignoring the tears that sprung to his eyes at the prospect of losing Wes. He had thought that nothing could hurt worse than realizing how Wesley felt about being ordinary, but that was before he came face to face with Wesley's intention to leave.
"It seems like I've already managed to do that quite effectively with that charming little display earlier." The look in Wesley's eyes both dared and begged him to deny it.
Xander slumped back against the door, wrapping his arms around his belly. He closed his eyes and banged his head back against the solid wood several times in frustration.
"I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am."
"For what? Saying how you really feel?" Xander risked a look and watched Wesley's hands twist the sheet between his fingers.
"No. For behaving like a petulant child. And for saying something unforgivably cruel and unfair that hurt you." Wesley eyes met Xander's, displaying the depth of his regret.
"It's not unfair to think being ordinary is a step down for you."
"Yes, yes it is. It's unfair and worse that than, it was untrue." Wesley stood abruptly and stepped forward, reaching out.
Before Wesley's hand could make contact, Xander crossed the room to stare out the window. In the dark glass he could make out Wesley's resignation as he accepted the rejection. The pain in that acceptance resonated with his own.
"You've been practicing magic for most of your life. It's part of who you are. I get that. Being a plain old human can't really compare to being able to make fire with your brain. I'm not stupid, Wes. I've watched you getting frustrated and hating what it's been like since Vail screwed you over." He saw Wesley's flinch at the name they avoided speaking even as the demon's presence hung between them in the ravages that had been inflicted on Wesley's very being.
"So don't tell me that being ordinary doesn't disgust you." He hated the ugly twist in his voice over the loaded word, but could do nothing to prevent it.
After a long moment, Wesley answered, voice hoarse and shaking. "It doesn't disgust me. It scares me."
"Being ordinary scares you." Flat disbelief coated the words. "Good to know."
"Xander, please. Please look at me."
Tentative fingers stroked his back, and Xander fought against the reflexive need to give into his longing for contact.
"What do you want me to say, Wes? That it's okay to hate the idea of not being able to use magic? That it's okay to hate being," he swallowed against the lump in this throat, "being me?"
"God, no Xander, no."
Wesley grabbed Xander and swung him around, placing hands on either side of his face. Xander read the desperation and guilt shone in blurry blues eyes as tears streaked down Wesley's cheeks.
"Bloody hell, I'm a bastard. I didn't mean--"
"Yeah, you kinda did."
Wesley stepped back as if physically struck, and Xander instinctively shot out a hand to steady him. They stared at one another, lost for the words that would span the rift that threatened to pull them apart.
Fighting against that possibility, Xander pulled Wesley close, hugging him and holding on against the waves of fear and sorrow, longing to make all of this go away, to go back in time before spells that went wrong and words angry words spoken in fear and pain.
"You hurt me," Xander whispered, voice thick with his own tears.
"I know." Wesley's arms tightened around him. "I'm sorry."
They stood holding one another for a long time before Xander shifted to move them both toward the bed without relinquishing his hold before exhaustion threatened to topple them to floor.
"Promise me something?" Xander whispered against the dark head cradled on his chest.
Xander chuckled. "You know, I could take amazing advantage here." He sobered when the only answer came from Wesley's tightening his grip, clearly deep in guilt mode. Xander stroked a hand down Wesley's back, tamping down again on his own hurt, trying to trust that helping Wes get past the problem with magic would begin to heal the wounds inflicted tonight.
"Promise me that you'll talk to Giles in the morning." When the silence stretched, he continued. "I know you already asked him about the whole magic healing fix-it thing and that's a no-go just like with the coven and with Wills, but maybe he knows something else that can help."
When the whispered "I promise" finally came, Xander felt some of the tension ease. He rubbed his cheek against Wesley's soft hair in thanks. Sleep claimed him soon after.
Xander waited through two cups of coffee and three muffins before his patience ran out. Conversation over breakfast had been sparse, distant and polite in ways that made his skin crawl with wrongness. Giles had checked in with Dawn and confirmed that Rona was home and resting--well, resting after Faith had threatened to break her other arm if she didn't quit hanging around practicing the art of slayer quippage during the morning's scheduled training sessions.
Banging his coffee mug down on the table earned him the attention of both Watchers, one curious and the other wary.
"Giles, Wes needs help with this magic thing." Xander ignored the panic that straightened Wesley's back in his chair. "He told me that you can't do whatever heal-y thing that would get him all centered again because of the black magic gunk left behind by Vail, but there's got to be something that can help, right?"
"I'm sorry?" Befuddled was a look that Giles wore rarely, and Xander reflected that if the situation between he and Wesley wasn't quite so unsettled, the two of them would be sharing the looks of fond amusement that generally accompanied a confused Giles.
"There's got to be something other than the healing spell or grounding spell or whatever it's called that can fix this." Xander clarified, or thought he clarified, but the look on Giles' face wasn't clearing.
"Xander," Wes spoke in a low warning tone only to be cut off when Giles seemed to grab a clue.
"Wesley told you that I can't perform the healing ritual with him."
"Actually," Wesley cleared his throat and stared intently at the table, setting off warning bells for Xander. "What I said was that the Coven's concerns remained as true for Giles as they were for Willow. The ritual requires opening up the magical selves of both people, and the black magic I carry makes that dangerous."
It was Xander's turn to grab a clue from Wesley's carefully worded explanation and Giles' initial confusion. The resulting revelation switched him from concerned to pissed off.
"He never asked you about the ritual." A nod from Giles confirmed it. "Can you do it?"
Xander ignored Wesley's protest. Deciding that worked, he moved on to ignoring Wesley altogether. "Will it hurt you?"
"There is some risk, as always when dark magic is involved, but it can be minimized."
"No, absolutely not."
Xander determined that it would be better to keep going with the ignoring tactic when the urge to punch Wes weighed in.
"How long will it take to get ready?"
"There is little preparation needed. However," Giles glanced at Wesley before returning his attention to Xander, "a willing participant is one of the requirements."
"No. I refuse to risk--"
"Shut up. Just shut up." Xander stood abruptly, knocking his chair over with a clatter that silenced Wesley's protests. "I would do this for you if I could, but we both know I can't. After last night, it's pretty clear that you can't keep trying to fix it yourself. Giles wants to help, and you're going to let him just like you should have done months ago instead of lying about it."
He turned to right his chair and stood with his hands resting on the back of it, struggling to speak around the feeling of betrayal.
"I love you, you fucking asshole. Now chant or drink potions or whatever the hell you have to do and let Giles help. When it's over call me, and I'll come home."
"No, Wes. Call me when it's done." He locked eyes with his lover, hating himself for what he was about to say. "Or don't call at all."
He turned and left the kitchen, stopping only to pick up his wallet, keys and cell phone before he stumbled past the newly scarred table in the entry way and out into the sunshine that mocked him for wanting the night to be over.
Giles found Xander hunched over a cold cup of coffee at his favorite pub on the edge of town. Walking the several miles had diminished the energy of Xander's anger, leaving him to bounce between hope and despair as time passed and no call came.
As Giles settled into the chair across from him, Xander scraped a thumbnail against the weathered table where several gouges indicated probably nothing more threatening than a bored teenager with a pocket knife.
"Is it done?"
"Oh," Xander's throat closed up. That was the reason for no phone call. Wesley wouldn't go through with the ritual, so he couldn't call. Xander had told him not to, and Wesley didn't.
"Xander, come back to the house."
"I think...I need to...I'm gonna walk for a while," Xander lurched to his feet, needing to move, to outdistance the pain that he could feel coming. A warm hand around his arm halted him after a few stumbling steps.
"He won't do the ritual without you there."
"Huh?" Xander blinked, trying to make sense of the words and move past the need to escape.
"And I'm inclined to agree with him." Giles offered a quick grin, but Xander read wariness in his eyes.
"Why?" The demand sounded more petulant than he would have liked, but still, he needed to know.
"I would rather let him explain."
"No. Believe me when I say that last thing this total clusterfuck needs is another screwed up attempt at an explanation from him that I don't know whether to believe." And wow, way to move from petulance to bitterness with a side of airing dirty laundry, but Xander went with it as he crossed his arms and refused to respond to Giles' gentle guidance toward the Jeep parked by the curb.
"At least get in the car. I promise not to drive off, but this is a conversation unsuited for the middle of a public sidewalk."
When Xander continued to stand immobile, Giles shook his head and dug out the car keys.
"Here." He handed over the keys. "I won't force you to come back with me. That's not why I came to find you."
Xander gripped the keys and nodded tightly. He knew he was being unreasonable, but having this measure of control helped, just as Giles obviously intended.
Once they were both settled in the Jeep, shame popped up with a side of embarrassment over his childish behavior. Even so, he couldn't entirely regret the security of being in the driver's seat instead of feeling trapped as a passenger.
"Wes won't go through with this unless I'm there?" Xander watched a lorry rumble past them.
"He has valid reasons."
"The healing ritual requires trust and openness between the participants."
"Wait, are you saying he doesn't trust you? Because I know that's not true." Xander turned and stared at Giles, shocked at the suggestion.
"Er, no, it's not that exactly." A faint blush crept up Giles' cheeks, adding further confusion to a situation that had pretty much tapped out Xander's resources for understanding what the hell was going on.
"Look, do me a favor and use small words here, Giles."
"We've done this ritual before." Giles offered uncomfortably. "He did it for me after the incident with Willow."
"The ‘incident'? You mean when she took all your magic and went world-end-y on us?"
"Yes. That would be the incident in question."
"So if you guys know it worked before, what do you need me there for?"
"Wesley wants you there, and as I said, I agree with him. The ritual can be rather...intimate."
"Intimate. Okay, and that means?"
The blush that had never fully disappeared deepened the color on Giles' cheeks, crawling up to his ears.
"Depending on the nature of the relationship and, er, inclinations or attractions, of the participants it can be rather..."
"Nevermind, I get it, intimate." Xander flushed with equal parts embarrassment and arousal at the thought of Giles and Wesley together--doing spells.
"Yes, quite. "
Xander sternly scolded his brain for stray thoughts of naked Giles and Wesley. He shifted in the seat as the silence lengthened and chanced a look at Giles. "So last time?"
"Last time neither of us was in a relationship with someone else," Giles offered bluntly before turning to meet Xander's eyes, his voice softening with concern. "And this time, neither of us is willing to risk hurting you."
Xander slumped in the seat. "I don't know if you've been paying attention here, Giles, but been there done that on the hurting. At this point, Wes not doing the ritual is only gonna make everything worse."
"I can't fault him for not wanting to risk being unfaithful to you, even at the risk of harming himself." Giles' squeezed his shoulder.
"Yeah, well I can. This can't go on, Giles."
"Which is why I suggested a compromise, and he's agreed to go through with it if you will agree to participate."
"So if there's any of this, um, intimate stuff, I'll be the one to," Xander scrambled for words, "take care of it for him?" Okay, equal parts blood to his face and his dick was so not right.
"Yes, that would be a fair assessment."
Xander rolled his eyes at the laugh that Giles was clearly smothering, but then a thought occurred. "And, uh, what about you? Won't this whole intimacy thing affect you, too? I'm guessing it wasn't all one-sided last time."
"No, it wasn't all one sided." Any trace of laughter had vanished from Giles' expression. "Physical intimacy is not required for the ritual to work. The energies that arise don't have to be channeled into sex."
The explanation, voiced without any inflection, shouted at Xander to pay attention. Sex wasn't required but both Watchers obviously expected something to happen or they wouldn't need him there. Giles was holding himself carefully still, staring out the front window.
"It doesn't have to be, but I'm guessing that's the easiest way to deal with it?"
"It's expedient, not necessary."
"Giles." Xander stopped and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, suddenly sick to death of a life where the people he loved continually placed themselves in situations from uncomfortable to downright dangerous because someone else was deemed more important.
"This will work, Xander. I promise you that Wesley will be alright."
"Okay. Fine. Let's do this." No point in going around and around on this, Xander decided. He started the Jeep and drove the few miles back to the cottage, wishing he had the words to tell Giles that he had no intention of dismissing what was expedient just because Giles was on-board for a little self-sacrifice. He split his attention between the road and calculating how he could get a few moments alone with Wesley to make sure they were in agreement about what it could mean to have Giles perform this ritual.
Candles and incense burned low, lending a lethargy that countered the power that Xander could imagine flowing through the air around them. Giles and Wesley had been alternating chants with silence for the better part of an hour while Xander watched from his place on the floor, arms wrapped loosely around Wesley's waist.
He had been told that his part in the ritual consisted pretty much of simply being there. Apparently his presence would help to ground Wes while the Watchers worked on restoring the pathways that allowed magic to flow smoothly. He had his doubts, but at least he figured being all human and ordinary shouldn't screw anything up too much. Besides, holding Wes didn't count as any kind of hardship, nor did watching Giles where he sat cross-legged on the floor directly across from Wesley.
Xander started when, after sitting motionless for so long, both Wes and Giles raised their hands toward one another, fingers entwining. The sight of those hands had him shifting as his cock suddenly took an active interest in the proceedings.
He considered scooting back a bit to keep from poking Wes in the back with that interest but changed his mind. With a minimum of discussion, he had convinced both Wesley and Giles to let what happened happen. Of course, that discussion might have also included his refusal to participate at all without that concession.
Forcing himself to hold still, Xander waited. They had told him that the candles going out would indicate the successful completion of the ritual. Not for the first time, he wished he could really feel the magic going on around him. He could only wait and hope that it would work, that the damage could be healed.
A low groan of pleasure had him tightening his grip around Wes and pressing forward before he fully registered the curls of smoke rising from the extinguished candles all around them.
"Wes?" He noted that Wesley held onto Giles even as he shifted back against Xander.
"Are you okay?" There was no squeak in his voice when Wes managed to shift so that Xander's cock rested in the cleft of his ass, and if there was it was a manly squeak.
"He's fine." Lust and laughter colored Giles' words, and Xander glanced up to see that both were directed at him. "It worked?"
"It worked, love." Wesley turned to capture Xander's lips in an open-mouthed kiss, even though it meant releasing Giles' hands to manage it. God, less than twenty-four hours since this whole mess had begun, and Xander felt starved for the love that the embrace poured over him. He brought both hands up to hold Wesley's face, pulling back to search his eyes for lingering indications of the pain that had tormented his lover for nearly a year.
"I'm okay, Xander, I promise you." Wesley's hand stroked down Xander's back before pulling him close in a consuming kiss.
"Oh god, Wesley, fuck," Xander gasped between kisses, unable to express his relief and thankfulness. Distantly, he decided that he could kick Wesley's ass later for not asking Giles to help months ago. Giles.
Xander pulled back again, reluctant to leave off kissing Wes, but sure that if he didn't...yep, there was Giles quietly rising to leave.
Snaking out a hand, Xander placed it where he figured it would garner maximum attention--directly over Giles' cock.
"Xander!" Turned out his guess was right.
"Don't go." Xander removed his hand after a quick encouraging squeeze, needing Giles to choose to stay. There would be no coercion, but he knew what he wanted and a quick glance at Wesley's blown pupils and hungry expression confirmed that they were on the same page.
Xander stood quickly, helping Wesley up with him. It was a toss-up as to whether the stiff muscles or stiff cocks contributed more to making the maneuver less graceful than normal. Patience was not Xander's strong suit at the best of times, and having Wesley plastered to his side rubbing off against his hip did not help as they waited for Giles to decide.
"Xander. Wesley," Giles blinked helplessly, clearly torn between wanting and denying himself what he couldn't truly believe was on offer.
"Come to bed." Wes offered simply, reminding Xander again of his genius.
Giles nodded once and allowed them to lead him into the bedroom with hands that roamed enthusiastically. The next few moments consisted of a blur of unbuttoning, unzipping, and dropping clothes in careless piles and then all was nakedness and tangled limbs in on top of clean sheets.
Xander rolled to his side as Wesley pressed Giles back against the pillows, plundering his mouth with kisses that demanded attention. He bit back a groan as reality blew away the meager images his imagination had supplied earlier in the day.
Grinning, he licked his palm sloppily and reached between the kissing men to grasp both of their cocks in his hand. He couldn't hold back a snorted giggle as putting that plan into practice proved a bit more complicated than it seemed when it occurred to him.
"Are we amusing you?" Two mock frowns were turned on him, and Giles raised an eyebrow as he posed the question.
"Nope." Xander wriggled his hand around until he had both cocks gripped the way he wanted them. Dual moans spiked up his own arousal without a hand being laid on him. He slowly massaged the warm flesh in his palm, grinning as he continued. "So, should I guess who got to do what to whom the last time?"
"Uh," Wesley managed before he blinked and focused on the question. "We managed quite a few permutations."
"Quite a few, huh?"
"I guess that makes it my turn, then?" Xander's grinned segued into a lustful groan as Wesley wrapped strong fingers around his cock and began echoing the motion of Xander's hand.
"I think that could be arranged," Giles added his attentions with a quick pinch to Xander's right nipple and then his left.
"Shit, okay, okay." Xander panted, convinced that he was quickly going to lose any command of the events that he might have had if he didn't start actively directing. He removed his hand and knelt forward to kiss Giles, plunging his tongue in with enthusiasm.
"I want you to fuck me," he gasped against Giles spit-slicked mouth.
"Bloody hell, yes."
Xander grinned and gave him a fast peck before sitting up to pull Wesley to him and claim his mouth.
"And I want to suck you off while he's doing it."
"Fucking hell, Xander."
Xander laughed at the glazed eyes that roamed over him and flopped onto his back partway down the bed, spreading his legs in invitation. Arousal thrummed through him as Giles turned to kiss him while Wesley lunged for the bedside table where they kept supplies.
Within moments, slick fingers stroked over his opening and his hips bucked in reaction, cock searching for stimulation that Giles warm hand obligingly provided.
"Beautiful, isn't he?" Xander heard Wesley's murmur, not sure whether it was directed toward him or Giles, but he decided it hardly mattered as he reached out to stroke one hand over Wesley's chest and the other down Giles side.
One finger and then a second slid into his ass. God, Wesley was getting him ready for Giles' cock, and that thought nearly broke his brain with the hotness of it. He moaned in appreciation and impatience when fingertips glossed over his prostate.
"Please," he groaned, not sure what he was asking for but needing more, more Giles, more Wesley, both of them in him, surrounding him, proving he was wanted and needed in a world that his ordinary humanity would never have him fitting naturally into. The dislocation and disconnection that had sat quietly at the back of his mind during the ritual staged a ferocious comeback.
"Please." Xander begged, unable to voice more.
"Shh, we have you," Giles whispered, kissing him before moving away to take Wesley's place between Xander's legs.
The bed shifted as Wesley crawled up the bed to confirm the statement with his own kiss and reassurances.
"Let us take care of you."
Xander nodded shakily, clinging to the love that shone from Wesley's eyes.
When Wesley moved to straddle Xander's chest, Xander stopped him. "Face Giles so he can kiss you."
Confusion flashed over Wesley's face before he nodded his understanding. "Lean your head back, then."
Xander complied and mouthed greedily at Wesley's cock when Wes turned and knelt carefully over his face. He heard the soft, wet sounds of mouths sliding together and then lost them as he felt Giles slowly press forward, working himself into Xander's stretched and waiting ass.
He wanted to giggle when he felt his eager moan answered by a gasp from Wes, but Giles' cock stuttering forward to rest fully inside him suffused him with such a sense of rightness and belonging that laughter fled. Instead he turned his attention to worshiping Wesley's cock with his mouth. Then as the three of them began to find a rhythm, he managed to alternate his attention between sucking Wes and clenching his ass around Giles, willing both men deeper inside his body.
As the regularity of Giles's strokes faltered with impending orgasm, Xander inhaled a deep breath through his nose and then swallowed around the cock in his mouth, taking it as far down his throat as he could manage. At the same time, two hands wrapped around his cock and several quick, strong strokes resulted in a glorious confusion of come in his mouth, in his ass, and shooting across his chest.
Xander rejoined the conscious world sandwiched between two strong chests with a blanket draped over them. He lay still, listening to their breathing even out. The sense of rightness returned stronger than before and the low level tension that had always been there made itself known only in its absence.
Keeping his eyes closed, he drowsed toward sleep, enjoying the languid tangle of limbs as he let each shared breath assure him that ordinary human or not, he had found a magic of his own kind in what the three of them had shared tonight. Maybe it wasn't a cure-all, nothing really was, but it could be enough for now.
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