bmblbee (bmblbee) wrote in bloodclaim,
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Xander Harris - Undercover

Title: Xander Harris - Undercover 23/40

Author: BmblBee
Rating: Adult
Paring: S/X with a side of W/G
Summary: Xander is drifting, looking for a purpose in life.
One that finally comes clear when he spots a certain
hairdresser by the name of Mr. William. Xander
immediately begins planning and plotting to win over
this scrumptious man. Of course nothing worth having
ever comes easily.
Genre: Comedy, romance. HAU
Warnings: The usual bad language as well as graphic m/m sexual
activities. Also warned of hints of poultry perversions.
Disclaimer: I Own or have claim on none of the characters or products
used and named in this story and no profit is made.
Feedback: Much appreciated. It encourages me to continue.




Special thanks to Petxnd for the wonderful banner and her patience and
willingness to preread and comment on my stories.


Xander walked quickly, his feet barely touching the pavement as he headed
back towards the Bronze to pick up the Chevy he had left parked there.

As a way to pass the time, his brain, like a GPS had mapped out the trip
from Xander's house to Spike's little cottage on Locust st. and he
imagined each twist and turn in the road till he had mentally delivered the
bike and it's rider safely into the reserved spot in the carport.

Xander desperately wished he was still on the back of the bike. He could
clearly see himself standing by while Spike settled the bike in for the night.
Xander would insist on taking the time to cover her with a tarp even
though Spike was in a hurry to get his lover inside and naked.

The dampness of the night was not good for the expensive stereo system
Xander had had installed for Spike's birthday.

Spike would, of course, be grateful. He was always so amazed at Xander's
ability to focus on detail. Even in the face of hot, promised sex.
They would laugh and talk easily as they unlocked the door and headed
inside, not stopping to bother with the lights as they steered each other
towards their shared bedroom.

Xander wished he knew the layout of the room. He wondered if he
could slip up to the house while Spike was at work and take a sneak
peek in the windows.

He mentally laid out and then rearranged furniture, tried different
color schemes, and placed, then discarded, a treadmill in the corner.

But the bed.

Ah, the bed. It was always the center of attention.
It was where they lounged on lazy Sunday mornings.
It was where Spike would surprise him with breakfast in bed
on special occasions.

And it was where they made love. Hot, passionate love.
Slow, languid, blowjobs. Long loving kisses.

Xander touched his fingertips to his lips and remembered the magic
of THE KISS.

It was where Spike would introduce him to the mysterious
world of lubricated butt holes and what gay guys wanted with them.

It would be brightly colored, high, with a plush pillowtop mattress.
It is king size, stacked with cushions, draped in a satin spread, and
the center of their world.

Xander felt emboldened, fully ready to embrace his gayness.

Reaching down, Xander adjusted himself in his still slightly stiff jeans.
He knew if he didn't check himself now the rest of the walk would be
exceedingly more uncomfortable.

Whipping out his little black notebook, he jotted as he walked,
skirting quickly around a hissing possum defending his territory.

1. Note Spike's birthday.
2. Drive by tomorrow night. Check for lights on to determine location
of Spike's bedroom.
3. Remind Mother of Tuesday's appointment.
4. Look for a job.

'Scratch the last one.'

Gazing around, Xander was thrilled to see he had made great time and was now
only a mile or so away. Another 15 minutes and he would be on his way home,
after, of course, swinging by Locust st. just to make sure his boyfriend had arrived
safely.

Finally, before tucking it back away, Xander added one more thing to his
to-do-tomorrow list.

5. Announce my gayness.

He had no doubts. No reservations. He had already shared with an also gay
Willow and that went very well. How much harder could his parents be?
The only question was timing. Which would be better. Drunk or sober?

Not that it would be easy to catch them sober, but it could be done. If he was
early enough. Before his father left for work. Probably on a Wednesday.
Right before payday. If none of the utilities had been shut off. And his Mother
remembered to buy cinnamon poptarts.

Actually drunk might be easier.

Rounding the corner, Xander was delighted to see he was there and
off in the distance, in the deserted parking lot, sat the faithful Chevy, right
where he had left it.

Almost 2 am and the Bronze had long ago closed down after another
successful night of drinking, dancing, fighting, and general mayhem.

The parking lot was littered with broken bottles, upchucked drinks, and
used, discarded condoms. It was a disgusting mess that a private
cleaning service, hired by the management would have cleaned up,
good as new, in no time.

Xander cringed. It was not one of the best jobs he had ever had.
He was actually relieved when his Mother got him fired for repetedly
calling his boss to remind Xander to stop at the store for maxi pads
on his way home.
Apparently Big Jake was easily embarrassed.
After 19 years, Xander was not.

Strolling through the lot, sidestepping the puddles, Xander literally
bounced. It had been a fucking incredible night! He made no effort
to check the huge grin that covered his face as he stopped and stood
on the very spot where it had happened.

THE KISS

It deserved capital letters.
It should be spelled out and floating on a piece of flapping plastic
behind one of those sky writers in the sputtering bi-planes.
It should be carved in stone in a cave in France to be discovered thousands
of years from now by future archiologists.
It should be photographed and wanked to.

Unable to avoid it any longer, Xander reached in his pocket and pulled
out the car keys. He noted with some annoyance the new dents and
scratches in the side of the car, but what the hell, there was hardly
an inch or two of the surface that wasn't damaged.

Still, if he had insurance, he would have called and filed a claim.
As it was, Xander just shrugged and got in.

He turned the key, pumped the gas and waited.

BANG!!

The backfire shook the windows and he was off. Looking down he was
dismayed to see the little arrow almost on "E". He would have to skip the
trip across town and head back to his parents house. It was becoming
harder and harder to think of that place as home.

His second trip from the Bronze that night was lonley. He would never
be able to drive it again without wishing he was flying on the back of a huge
black Harley. A powerful machine that vibrated between his legs as he
leaned forward pressing his body into that of the man of his dreams.

Xander rushed in, taking the basement steps two at a time.
He dashed to the cubby hole bathroom to snag the almost empty
bottle of hand lotion and hurried back, tossing it on the rumpled,
unmade bed.

He stripped of his clothes, dove on to the matress and gripped
his eager, dribbling cock.

'Now, where was I?' He took a deep breath and let his mind
collect his thoughts.

'Oh, yes, "A powerful machine that vibrated between my legs
as I lean forward, pressing my aching body against the man of my dreams."

And with that, his hand took over, knowing instinctively what to do.
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