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This by Rubywisp Pairing: Xander/Lindsey Rating: NC-17 Summary: Lindsey discovers Xander's got a kink. Part of the Letting Go series; set between Click and Boys' Night Out. Spoilers: If you know there's a BtVS Season Six, you're good to go. Distribution: My site, list archives. You want it, email me. Disclaimer: Still not mine. Damn shame, that. A/N: For ros_fod. Sparked by a question she asked me, about Lindsey and a late dinner. My answer: So he's with Xander, obviously. And it's still early and new in their relationship, and Lindsey's still at the place - although he never really leaves it - where he goes out of his way to show Xander things that'll make him go quiet and big-eyed, or babbling and big-eyed, depending on whether Lindsey's introducing him to good clothes and expensive restaurants or horseback riding and target practice. Or the joys of being fucked so hard that you break the patio furniture, but that's a whole 'nother story. He's dressed up, too, really hot in something quietly expensive and black, except for the soft blue shirt he's wearing underneath his blazer, because Xander once said, in a tone that lifts the hairs on the back of Lindsey's neck with the remembering of it, that that particular shade of blue did things to Lindsey's eyes that make him never want to leave the bedroom. No rings, but he's got a heavy burnished gold watch on one tanned wrist, and his slacks are snug around his waist and ass, and drape perfectly to break cleanly over the tops of his well-shined dress shoes. sparked this story: --- Lindsey reaches the men's room first and shows the attendant a fifty-dollar bill. "There's two more of these in it for you if you keep everybody out of here for twenty minutes." "Ten," the grizzled attendant shoots back as he stands up, not missing a beat. Obviously, he's both used to and unfazed by clearing out to provide counter space and privacy for cokeheads with more money than sense. "Now it's one. Fifteen," Lindsey says calmly, hiding his impatience. He's horny and hard and really just wants the old man to clear the fuck out before Xander gets there. The guy's eyes dart between Lindsey's face and the folded bill between his fingers, clearly trying to decide whether a refusal will get him even less money, or more. Lindsey waits quietly, leaning almost casually against the counter over which he plans to bend Xander in a few minutes. The prospect of a hundred dollars basically free for the taking proves to be more alluring than winning this little pissing contest, though, and Lindsey allows the corner of his mouth to turn up when the money is snatched out of his hand. "Nice doing business with you," he says with a tilt of his head, generous as always in victory. His smirk turns into a full-fledged smile as Xander bursts through the door. "Hey," Xander says, stopping short when the attendant starts trying to usher him out of the room. "He's with me," Lindsey interrupts, the 'get out' unspoken but certainly not unheard. The old man figures it out, his head swiveling back and forth between the two of them like he's watching a tennis match, and Lindsey wonders if he's just lost his fifty bucks. Drugs are one thing, but fags the guy's not so sure about, that much is clear. Xander watches the whole thing silently, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet until the attendant leaves, brushing past him with a shrug and a muttered "Hundred bucks is a hundred bucks". He turns a half-hopeful, half-worried look on Lindsey, licking his lips nervously. "Don't suppose you were kidding about this, huh?" "Hand me your coat," is Lindsey's only answer. He shrugs out of his own blazer and takes Xander's before draping them carefully on the stool in the corner. He turns back around, and in spite of their lack of time, takes a long moment to stare Xander over from head to toe, slowly. He looks good like that, Lindsey thinks, nervous and flushed from the toes of his shiny new wingtips to the messy waves on top of his head. Lindsey will never admit it, but he's pleased that Xander's got a line he won't let Lindsey cross, even if it is just hair. There aren't too many people who can say 'no' to Lindsey and stick to it; it's good that Xander's one of them. Necessary. And damn if the fact that Xander can be just as stubborn and pig-headed as he can doesn't make Lindsey that much hotter for him. A couple of quick strides across the room, and before Xander's even got time to fidget, Lindsey's whirling him around, pushing him up against the long counter, un-tucking his shirt and working Xander's belt buckle open, his mouth moving hungrily across salty acres of strong, tanned neck. Xander clutches at him, fingers scrabbling down his back and pulling Lindsey's shirt free of his slacks, sliding around to fumble with Lindsey's own belt even as Xander tries to protest. "Lin, are you sure about... ah, fuck, yeah," Xander groans, closing his eyes as Lindsey gets his pants open in record time and wraps one hand firmly around his cock. "You know, I've got a little problem with -" Quick, sharp inhalation when Lindsey starts to pull strongly, sliding his thumb across the soft, already-slickening head with each upstroke. "Shh." Lindsey pulls a small tube out of his pocket and leans forward to set it on the counter, pushing his pants till they slide down his legs. "Shh," he repeats, his mouth against Xander's ear, pulling Xander away from the counter just far enough that he can work Xander's own pants down. "Tell me later," he says, cupping Xander's ass and pulling him close, closing his eyes as his cock slides against Xander's body. "You can tell me whatever you want, bitch at me all you like, later. Just let me fuck you. Now. Please?" he adds roughly, not caring if Xander hears how bad Lindsey needs him, never caring, knowing it's written all over his hands every time he touches Xander anyway. Xander sucks in his breath when Lindsey's skin touches his own. He swallows and nods, and turns around to face the wall-length mirror. Lindsey guesses Xander hadn't noticed it before when his eyes meet Lindsey's in the glass, panic floating around the edges of his gaze. Lindsey figured on that, though, and he's already there, smoothing his hands reassuringly down Xander's sides. "Shh," he says again, peppering the back of Xander's neck with light, soft kisses. He slips his hands underneath Xander's shirt, digging his fingers lightly into Xander's hips. "Just watch me, alright?" He works his hands up over Xander's ass to his lower back, pushing forward gently, his eyes never leaving Xander's. "Nothing different here, baby," he murmurs, bending with Xander, reaching for the lube, one hand rubbing the tense line of Xander's back soothingly. "Just you watching me watching you." Xander's eyes glaze over at that, but he still looks worried. "We're gonna get caught, Lin," he says unsurely, leaning forward and settles his weight on his hands. Lindsey can see the shirt ride up over the small of Xander's back out of the corner of his eye, and Lindsey's belly twists, low and hard. "That guy's gonna come back and we're gonna be so busted." "No he's not," Lindsey promises, wanting so badly to stare, to commit the long stretch of Xander's body to memory, but not wanting to leave Xander alone with the mirror. He runs one slippery, trembling hand over his cock and tosses the lube back on the counter. "How do you know? And what about everybody else?" Xander says, like a dog with a bone. Lindsey doesn't answer right away. Just slides a couple of fingers into him, easy and warm, and Xander hisses, sending shivers rolling up Lindsey's arms. He leans further and reaches around to slip his other hand around Xander's dick, which is rock-solid and wet, and doesn't seem to care one whit for who may or may not stumble in on them. In fact, if Lindsey was a betting man (and he is, when he knows he can win), he'd say that Xander's body isn't quite in agreement with the party line that Xander's mouth is advocating. "I took care of it," Lindsey tells him, replacing his fingers with his cock in one unbroken move, setting up a steady pace that has Xander dropping his head to the counter with a thump and a curse. "We're gonna get arrested, I just know it," Xander complains in between gasps, before pushing himself back up on his hands and looking again at Lindsey in the mirror. Lindsey wonders if he'll ever get used to Xander's ability to follow a conversational line no matter what he's doing. Or what's being done to him, Lindsey thinks with a slow grin. Not that he minds - he takes a particular joy in managing to push Xander into losing all coherence. He drapes himself over Xander's broad back, reaching for one wrist and grabbing it firmly. "That could be good, too - handcuffs would be a good look on you," he says with a slow lick up the groove of Xander's spine. "Ah, Jesus, man." Xander groans, shivering, thrusting against Lindsey, hard. Really putting his back into it, digging in and shoving back, the sweat already starting to drip from his forehead somehow forming a fitting counterpoint to the bruises Lindsey knows he's leaving on Xander's hips with his fingers. And oh, Lindsey knows he's a twisted fucker; he never claimed or pretended to be anything else, but the intensity of his reaction to that thought surprises even him. He sucks in his breath sharply as he straightens back up, and gives his hips a little extra twist as he slams into Xander over and over, watching Xander struggle to hold his gaze in the mirror, his eyes black and wide and almost vacant. "You'd like that, though, wouldn't you?" Lindsey says lowly, barely coherent himself, his voice tickling in his chest. He slides one hand down the side of Xander's hip and thigh, caressing, pressing, molding his palm to the swell of Xander's body. "Part of you is almost hoping someone will come in here, find us." Xander shudders and pushes back harder, only almost-nodding, not quite in control of himself anymore, and Lindsey knows he's just learned something new. Something good. A shiver ripples through him, and he tightens his grip, looking forward to kissing the bruises better in the morning. "Walk in, catch us -" The wildness in Xander's eyes is contagious, makes his hands weak, and he folds at the middle and drops his head briefly to Xander's back, forgoing eye contact in favor of dragging his lips and then his teeth roughly across the warm skin in one sloppy, wet, exaggerated move. "Fuck, Xan..." They're going to have to do this again, definitely. Xander gives up on the mirror completely, collapsing in on himself, his head landing on the backs of his hands. Giving up, giving in, giving it over and telling Lindsey with everything but words in every way that really matters to just have the fuck at it and *now*. And that's what always shreds Lindsey's control: Xander losing it, losing touch with everything in his head, everything around them except whatever Lindsey's doing to him. More. Harder. Fuck. Again. Words forced out of Xander's lungs with every snap of Lindsey's hips, and it burns him, lights something at the base of his spine that scorches him from the inside out until his mind fragments, shards of consciousness spinning in the overhead lights, reflecting abstract images into his memory: the damp curl of the hair at the base of Xander's neck, the glitter of a belt buckle out of the corner of Lindsey's eye, the imprint of his fingers on the curve of Xander's hipbone, that Lindsey knows is tattooed into his brain and for which he spares a second to wish could be tattooed into Xander's skin. Lindsey ducks his head and throws his weight into it. Lets go, and oh, hell, they're going to be a couple of sore and sorry motherfuckers tomorrow - Xander more than he and he's going to have some salving and kissing up to do, but it's all worth it. Worth every bit of this, every broken breath, every drop of sweat, every slice of the sweet, sharp agony of holding it in and holding it off and racing toward orgasm all at the same fucking time. Xander gets there before he does, shaking and rigid, and watching him pulls Lindsey along until he comes too - stretched inside-out with it and managing not to yell only by virtue of the teeth he nearly puts through his bottom lip. There's a few gasping moments where the counter is the only thing that's keeping them from puddling to the floor. Xander cracks one eye open and when frown lines begin to form, Lindsey knows it's time to move. He pulls away, and they put themselves back together silently, with the occasional brush of hands, a quiet kiss. Xander watches the door and Lindsey watches Xander from the corner of his eyes, wondering what he's thinking, wondering if he's crossed a line he's going to wish he didn't. Xander pulls on his jacket and waits while Lindsey ties his shoes, staring at his feet, lost in thought. They're both ready before Xander looks up and meets Lindsey's worried gaze with his own, and his frown deepens for just a minute before he smiles, easy and wide. Lindsey's relief is a solid thing, and he returns the grin, even though he's lost the Xander-mood-swing road map for the moment. "We good?" he asks quietly. Xander steps in close and slides his cheek against Lindsey's own before turning his head and placing a soft kiss on the corner of Lindsey's mouth. "Oh yeah," he says, his voice loose and satisfied. "And that," he adds with another kiss before he turns and heads out of the room with what can only be called a swagger, "was *amazing*." Lindsey knows he's wearing what Xander calls his 'cat-that-ate-the-canary' grin as he follows Xander out into the restaurant. Oh, yeah. They're going to do this a *lot*. --- End