bmblbee (bmblbee) wrote in bloodclaim,
bmblbee
bmblbee
bloodclaim

Night Terrors

TITLE: Night Terrors
19/46
AUTHOR: BmblBee
PARING: S/X This chapter A/A (W implied)
RATING: Adult
WARNING: m/m sexual activity. Adult language. Story is generally
not worksafe.
EXPLICIT SEXUAL FANTASY THIS CHAPTER
SUMMARY: 10 Years after the fall of Sunnydale, Xander has
distanced himself from his past life until a demon forces him to look
back.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing including the characters and products
named in this story. I do, however own an unused treadmill. If you
want to sue for that, help yourself.




Thanks to the wonderful Petxnd for the excellent banner.


Xander sat in his car in the cool early morning hours outside
his house. He had no idea how he had gotten there.
The windshield in front of him did not frame a picture
of double yellow lines, pot holes or road kill squirrels. Instead
it had played a full color movie on the big screen of the backs
of his eye lids.

It was a memory film he had long forgotten he loved to see.
He was a player in the movie but only had a bit part. The star
of the action film was the man he watched.

Xander could clearly imagine himself standing back, off in the
shadows, as the fight raged on. Demons, vampires, beasts and
monsters. The villain changed nightly but the hero was always
the same.

Short, tight, deceivingly small, the blond was like lightning on feet.
He spun, kicked, punched and moved, flowing like liquid mercury
and just as deadly to touch. Completely cloaked in black, his body
was pure sex.

Xander gripped the wheel in both hands and dropped his forehead
down on the backs of his knuckles.
He remembered. Buffy. Spike. Spike was fucking Buffy.
Xander had felt disgusted, jealous, betrayed and most of all confused.
Rushing through him, the emotions were fresh and sharp as the day
he first heard.

Suddenly, Xander felt very tired. Tired and old.
Dragging himself from the car and up the walk, he thought briefly
about calling Kim and inviting him over for breakfast. Kim was his
anchor to this life. His assurance that this was not Sunnydale and he
was no Scoobie. After a moments consideration, he decided against it.
It was late, he thought, his friend was probably already in bed.

Xander walked in, dropped his clothes and willed his mind to shut down.


Angel was absolutely giddy. He rushed around his small basement
apartment that was nestled underneath his place of business. His plan
was flawless. He would rush off to Oxnard on the pretense of saving
Xander whats-his-name, and rid the world of the demon.

Of course Wes would be there and need his help and expertise.
Angel would selflessly give it.
When this was all said and done, Wes would realize the foolishness of
his leaving and be overwhelmed with love and lust at the sight of the
crime fighting hero vampire.

Angel would stand bravely back, long black coat billowing in the wind.
Angel made a mental note to check the weather channel for wind gust
reports.
He would let Wes apologize and rush into his arms. Angel would
accept him back and together they would return to L.A. and their
life and bed together.

It couldn't fail.

Angel hustled about, straightening the rooms, picking up discarded
clothes, socks, and empty mugs with dried pigs blood caked in the
bottom.

He hurried into the bathroom and arranged his bottles of shampoo,
conditioner, smoothing serum, mega gel, mousse, and final spritz.
He casually wondered how he had gotten so low on hair supplies
and vowed to run to the market.
While he was there he would get wine, candles and some of that
cherry flavored lube that tingles. Wes always liked that so much.

He picked up the wet towels off the floor and dropped them in the
hamper. The bedroom was next. He picked up all the clothes off
the floor, most of them still clean and hung them back up. Deciding
on the right outfit each day was so difficult.

As he jammed another neck tie in his underwear drawer, something
caught his eye. Something neatly folded and tucked towards the far
back corner. Something almost forgotten.

Angel reached in and tugged it out. Soft, smooth, small, black satin
boxers. Angel held them up to his nose and inhaled deeply. Despite
being washed, they still carried the scent of Angel's own release
combined with......."Wes"

Angel hesitated. He took a few moments to calculate the time it would
take for Wes to fly over, minus the drive time between here and Oxnard
divided by the expendable number of brain cells yet undamaged.
The solution to the mathematical equation was a resounding 'YES!'

Angel immediately dropped his black linen trousers and slipped off
the matching silk shirt. He grabbed the boxers and flopped down on
his bed.
'Which one, which one?'
His mind sorted through his library of favorite fantasies till he came
across a very special one. A bedtime story he had often tucked
himself in to. A narrative that never failed to satisfy.

Closing his eyes, Angel again smelled the traces of spent passion,
rubbing the slippery fabric across his face slowly.
He then balled the boxers up in both hands and shoved them down
between his legs. Low, under his sack, pressing them against the
sensitive skin between balls and ass and he let his mind set the scene.

'I am sitting in my office, in the dark, brooding, when a man comes in.
"Mr. Angel?" He asks. "Yes." I answer. "We need your help." He
says. "You have come to the right place." I tell him of my mission
in life and he is naturally impressed.'

Angel's cock is hard and waiting restlessly for his hand to touch and
stroke it. He brushed the satin underwear lightly over his groin, balls
and cock letting it tease like a whisper. His mind continued on with
the story.

'How can I help you?" I ask. He says "It's my son, Wesley. Today is his
birthday and he is finally of age but he has no experience in life. All he
does is study and he knows nothing of the way of things. We
need a man to break him in. Will you do it Mr. Angel? We will
gladly pay you." '

Angle wrapped the boxers around his hand and his hand around his
cock. The foreskin moved easily, up and down. The swollen head
bubbled with an early promise of plentiful release.

'I am offended, I say. "I help the helpless, good sir. I ask no payment
in return. Now, bring the boy in and leave us alone." The man hurries
out with a flurry of thanks. Within minutes he returns with a small, shy
owlish boy wearing large oversized glasses. "Come here, boy." I say.
He obeys.'

Angel arched his back on the bed. His body tingled as he knew the next
chapter of his story by heart. The fabric covered hand stroked faster, his
grip tighter. He licked his lips and wished, not for the first time, that he
could wrap his lips around himself.

'Where was I? Oh, yes, "Take off your clothes." I say. The boy is
frightened of the big, handsome vampire with the excellent hair, but
he complies. He is small, shivering and his cock is limp. My stare burns
holes in him as I strip. He oogles, shocked at my huge, hard cock.
"Can I touch it?" He says in a tiny, quiet voice. I nod. He steps close
and carefully touches it. His own dick twitches.'

Angel felt the warning in his balls and he knew he was close so he stopped.
Too soon. Too soon. He opened his eyes and broke the spell. In
seconds he felt the urgency retreat. He looked down and swiped his
thumb across the sticky pre-cum oozing from his sensitive slit.

Licking it off, he again sniffed the boxers and let his body relax.
He wrapped his fist around himself and stroked, easy, gently, just
enough to start the motor purring again and he resumed his fantasy.

'The boy steps closer. "Can I taste you?" He asks. "Yes, lick me."
I tell him. He does. Tiny, fearful, kitten licks that shoot straight to my
balls. "Stop!" I tell him. He is afraid he did something wrong and looks
like he might cry so I reassure him. "No, you did good. Do you like to
suck cocks?"
He smiles and says "Yes, my Daddy's cock sometimes swells up like that
and he needs me to suck out the white stuff for him. Do you want me to do
that for you?" I tell him "No, I am going to put my cock in your butt and pump
the white stuff inside you." I hear him gasp and his hand goes to his own
cock that has suddenly turned hard and long.'

Angel groaned. His hips humped up, jamming his cock roughly into his
fist. He knew he had to hurry if his story would get to the good part before
it was too late.
"Wes, Jesus, fuck, Wes."

'I tell him, "Turn around boy and open yourself up. I need to see how tight
you are. Get down on your hands and knees." The boy does as he is told.
It is clear he is used to following orders. I drop down to kneel behind him
and push his head down to the floor. It tips his ass higher and I finger fuck him
with just the tip of my finger to get a feel for him. He reaches for himself,
ashamed that it feels so good. "Unfortunately I don't have time to prepare
you, I have helpless to help." He says he understands. I spit on my hand
and coat my cock with it. I line the head up to his tiny, virgin hole, and
I ram it in. He screams and his cock erupts in thick strings of sperm.'

Angel tossed the boxers aside and shoved two fingers in his hungry hole
as his other hand now jerked and stroked himself with speed and purpose.
The full color mural that plastered itself to his brain was one of a hard
thick cock slamming in and out of a torn, wrinkled, grateful ass as Wes's
voice begged for more.

"AHH! FUCK! WES!"
Angels orgasm crashed through him, sharpened by the forced delicious delay
and the erotic tale of need. He held tight to his cock as it jerked, twitched
and pumped in his hand. After what seemed like forever, he slumped, spent,
satisfied and euphoric.

The last of his energy was used to retrieve the boxers and wipe himself off
with them. Wet and sticky, they smelled so sweet. Angel smiled.
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