BtVS fic based on The Pack
1/19/05 01:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyA little Season One fic, because who doesn't love Hyena!Xander? And since at the moment I seem to be Clex-free, *shrugs trys for nonchalant to cover screaming fear* what the heck! It's still fun, right?
I have no title--it's just a shamless excuse for a little porn--I know! How shocking!
“Shoot me, stuff me, mount me.”
Xander’s head hits the tiled wall again. And again. Slowly, thoroughly, carefully. Clunk. What. Clunk. Is. Clunk Wrong with me? Clunk
… Shit. Every once in a while…it just hit him all over, all at once—and made him want to vomit. In the back of his throat he tastes the memory of blood—is it always going to be there? He turns up the hot water and lets it spill over his shoulders and warm him and he absolutely *doesn’t* think about it. Just shower and get the hell out—He glances around and grimaces. Did anything say 'I’m functional and yet hideously ugly', quite like a locker-room shower….
The squeak of bare foot against tile makes him turn. Fuck. It’s Tor and he’s glaring at him. Yeah, fuck you too.
None of us—them! The…bunch, that group the pack those jerks, can look at each other now, without—hating. Hating each other for what happened.
Secrets. Burdens. Shit.
Xander turns off the shower, warmth lost with the water. Jerk. Contrary to what they say, a burden shared is still just a big old bulky burden…
He tries to walk past Tor who reaches out and grabs his arm.
Hello? This is so not shower etiquette. It’s unspoken, don’t touch, no looks and don’t drop the soap.
“Hey, loser, clear out!” He snarls. “God, I hate you fucking assholes.”
“Wow, so busy being a jerk-off and all, and still you took the time to tell me that-- I gotta say, I’m touched!”…He tries to pry Tor’s hand off his arm. “Hey!”—He yanks at the same moment Tor pushes and he’s flying into the wall. He hits--hard—and goddamn it hurts! His head is ringing with the impact.
A red wall of rage completely out of proportion to what happened sweeps over him—“you mother fucking--” Xander leaps up off the floor, eyes gleaming, smiling—he’s looking at a dead man.
Tor laughs, he doesn’t get it—yet. “*Look,* Zero, Xamfer, whatever--”
Xander comes off the floor in a smooth move that rivals anything Buffy can do and slams Tor hard into the wall. He hits with a crunch, a sound that shoots a wild hot thread of joy through Xander. Yeah. Take that.
Tor leans against the wall holding his ribs and panting…when Xander takes a quick step towards him , he whines and drops his head.
Oh yeah…that’s right. That’s perfect.
**********
Tor’s head snaps back and for a moment he’s in two places—he’s leaning against the slime slick wall of the shower room scared shitless of *XanderXanderXander* for fuck’s sake and shivering and howling in the hyena house. He feels icy cold and at the same time hot-- burning up hot—And Xander’s here and he knows what to do…Xander’s head turns towards him and something in his belly tugs, like a line from him to Xander. His mouth fills with saliva and he shakes….
********
Xander coughs, the air’s too wet, it smells wrong, it’s sharp, clawing the inside of his nose, it’s mildew, harsh soap and…something warm, hot, delicious—part of him is screaming and part of him is—feeling better than ever before, familiar, home again and strong….
He remembers the feel of blood sliding down his throat, the heat of it, all the smells come back and he closes his eys to center himself.
**********
His head whips towards Tor—the rest, where are the rest— they’re missing, and he feels it like a loss of part of himself, a gaping hole in his middle. He needs them. Needs them *now*.
Walking and touching, always touching, mouth open and delicious smells flow over his tongue, inside of his mouth, it tastes good, he wants to taste everything and his pack smells good, he wipes his fingers over her skin and smells them, good. Tastes them and he wants to taste her, and Kyle’s nose reaches behind his ear and seeks out his smell, a tongue licks into it and hot breath explodes into his ear, Good.
Tor drops to his knees and Xander looks at him, puzzled, and something stretches in his mind and rolls over and it’s right again. Tor leans forward and shoves his face against Xander’s legs, sniffs, licks, like he needs to taste, to be sure again …
She moans and thrusts back against his fingers, he’s looking at his fingers, caught up hot and wet inside her, because she’s his. It’s right. He yanks her into his lap, his dick slides inside and the others moan…he fucks her without thinking—red and hot and musky and he feels breath on his shoulders-- his pack. He throws his head back and snarls and they move back—mine, mine…she comes with a scream when he sinks his teeth in her—mine!
His eyes open and he’s looking down at Tor swallowing his dick—watching his head bob on and off him makes Xander jerk and snap his teeth—he slaps one hand against the wall and grabs Tor’s hair with the other and just--fucks his mouth. It’s right. Fuck, it’s good, it’s so hot and his tongue is rough-soft against him-- pumps once or twice more and spills over his tongue. Tor’s eyes roll back and he drinks him down. He's perfect.
Xander’s sides are heaving with the effort to breathe…Tor looks stunned, his mouth swollen and red. Xander pulls him to his feet, touches him, touches his lips with his tongue, tastes himself faintly—bites down and breaks the skin.
There’s a spurt of blood into his mouth and a moment of *complete* clarity. He’s in the gym shower with Tor who just sucked him off and came on him when he bit him—they leap apart in horror.
Ohgodohgodohgodohgod….Xander looks down at the spill on his leg and scrubs frantically scrubs his hand scrubs—Tor runs.
It’s fading already, this—this thing is fading and he feels like he’s losing something, but he’s afraid to hold on…
**********
Dressed, walking home fast—he can’t stop looking over his shoulder and he hopes to god he doesn’t see any of them, because he knows. It’s happened before and it’ll happen again and he can’t stop it, wants it and hates it and… what if one day it doesn’t fade? What if one day he can’t come back? He pulls a hand through his hair, shoves stray pieces behind his ear and freezes.
TorTorTor
He scrubs his hand frantically against his jeans and runs….
1-19-05
I have no title--it's just a shamless excuse for a little porn--I know! How shocking!
“Shoot me, stuff me, mount me.”
Xander’s head hits the tiled wall again. And again. Slowly, thoroughly, carefully. Clunk. What. Clunk. Is. Clunk Wrong with me? Clunk
… Shit. Every once in a while…it just hit him all over, all at once—and made him want to vomit. In the back of his throat he tastes the memory of blood—is it always going to be there? He turns up the hot water and lets it spill over his shoulders and warm him and he absolutely *doesn’t* think about it. Just shower and get the hell out—He glances around and grimaces. Did anything say 'I’m functional and yet hideously ugly', quite like a locker-room shower….
The squeak of bare foot against tile makes him turn. Fuck. It’s Tor and he’s glaring at him. Yeah, fuck you too.
None of us—them! The…bunch, that group the pack those jerks, can look at each other now, without—hating. Hating each other for what happened.
Secrets. Burdens. Shit.
Xander turns off the shower, warmth lost with the water. Jerk. Contrary to what they say, a burden shared is still just a big old bulky burden…
He tries to walk past Tor who reaches out and grabs his arm.
Hello? This is so not shower etiquette. It’s unspoken, don’t touch, no looks and don’t drop the soap.
“Hey, loser, clear out!” He snarls. “God, I hate you fucking assholes.”
“Wow, so busy being a jerk-off and all, and still you took the time to tell me that-- I gotta say, I’m touched!”…He tries to pry Tor’s hand off his arm. “Hey!”—He yanks at the same moment Tor pushes and he’s flying into the wall. He hits--hard—and goddamn it hurts! His head is ringing with the impact.
A red wall of rage completely out of proportion to what happened sweeps over him—“you mother fucking--” Xander leaps up off the floor, eyes gleaming, smiling—he’s looking at a dead man.
Tor laughs, he doesn’t get it—yet. “*Look,* Zero, Xamfer, whatever--”
Xander comes off the floor in a smooth move that rivals anything Buffy can do and slams Tor hard into the wall. He hits with a crunch, a sound that shoots a wild hot thread of joy through Xander. Yeah. Take that.
Tor leans against the wall holding his ribs and panting…when Xander takes a quick step towards him , he whines and drops his head.
Oh yeah…that’s right. That’s perfect.
**********
Tor’s head snaps back and for a moment he’s in two places—he’s leaning against the slime slick wall of the shower room scared shitless of *XanderXanderXander* for fuck’s sake and shivering and howling in the hyena house. He feels icy cold and at the same time hot-- burning up hot—And Xander’s here and he knows what to do…Xander’s head turns towards him and something in his belly tugs, like a line from him to Xander. His mouth fills with saliva and he shakes….
********
Xander coughs, the air’s too wet, it smells wrong, it’s sharp, clawing the inside of his nose, it’s mildew, harsh soap and…something warm, hot, delicious—part of him is screaming and part of him is—feeling better than ever before, familiar, home again and strong….
He remembers the feel of blood sliding down his throat, the heat of it, all the smells come back and he closes his eys to center himself.
**********
His head whips towards Tor—the rest, where are the rest— they’re missing, and he feels it like a loss of part of himself, a gaping hole in his middle. He needs them. Needs them *now*.
Walking and touching, always touching, mouth open and delicious smells flow over his tongue, inside of his mouth, it tastes good, he wants to taste everything and his pack smells good, he wipes his fingers over her skin and smells them, good. Tastes them and he wants to taste her, and Kyle’s nose reaches behind his ear and seeks out his smell, a tongue licks into it and hot breath explodes into his ear, Good.
Tor drops to his knees and Xander looks at him, puzzled, and something stretches in his mind and rolls over and it’s right again. Tor leans forward and shoves his face against Xander’s legs, sniffs, licks, like he needs to taste, to be sure again …
She moans and thrusts back against his fingers, he’s looking at his fingers, caught up hot and wet inside her, because she’s his. It’s right. He yanks her into his lap, his dick slides inside and the others moan…he fucks her without thinking—red and hot and musky and he feels breath on his shoulders-- his pack. He throws his head back and snarls and they move back—mine, mine…she comes with a scream when he sinks his teeth in her—mine!
His eyes open and he’s looking down at Tor swallowing his dick—watching his head bob on and off him makes Xander jerk and snap his teeth—he slaps one hand against the wall and grabs Tor’s hair with the other and just--fucks his mouth. It’s right. Fuck, it’s good, it’s so hot and his tongue is rough-soft against him-- pumps once or twice more and spills over his tongue. Tor’s eyes roll back and he drinks him down. He's perfect.
Xander’s sides are heaving with the effort to breathe…Tor looks stunned, his mouth swollen and red. Xander pulls him to his feet, touches him, touches his lips with his tongue, tastes himself faintly—bites down and breaks the skin.
There’s a spurt of blood into his mouth and a moment of *complete* clarity. He’s in the gym shower with Tor who just sucked him off and came on him when he bit him—they leap apart in horror.
Ohgodohgodohgodohgod….Xander looks down at the spill on his leg and scrubs frantically scrubs his hand scrubs—Tor runs.
It’s fading already, this—this thing is fading and he feels like he’s losing something, but he’s afraid to hold on…
**********
Dressed, walking home fast—he can’t stop looking over his shoulder and he hopes to god he doesn’t see any of them, because he knows. It’s happened before and it’ll happen again and he can’t stop it, wants it and hates it and… what if one day it doesn’t fade? What if one day he can’t come back? He pulls a hand through his hair, shoves stray pieces behind his ear and freezes.
TorTorTor
He scrubs his hand frantically against his jeans and runs….
1-19-05
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![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
1/19/05 07:24 pm (UTC)(no subject)
1/19/05 08:13 pm (UTC)I remembered your request and this *was* a lot of fun...(adds it to towering pile of possible WIPs)
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1/21/05 09:32 am (UTC)(no subject)
1/19/05 08:33 pm (UTC)(no subject)
1/19/05 09:25 pm (UTC)(no subject)
1/19/05 11:52 pm (UTC)Blowjobs in the locker room are fun.
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1/20/05 04:38 am (UTC)(no subject)
9/15/08 04:15 pm (UTC)(no subject)
9/21/08 12:07 am (UTC)fiftytwo or three times....(no subject)
9/21/08 12:11 am (UTC)(no subject)
9/21/08 12:41 am (UTC)