Oh, this is new. Not new-in-a-good-way new either. New in a my-world-is-falling-apart way. New in
a let-the-Hellmouth-swallow-me-alive way. New in an I-almost-wish-I'd-never-come-here way.

Almost.

It's a catch-22, you see. The horror of seeing him like this makes me wish I hadn't met him, that I
hadn't cared, so it wouldn't hurt so to see him, but being reminded of how much I care makes me
more certain than ever that nothing on this earth could suffice as an alternative to having had
him in my life these past few years.

He's crying, and it breaks my heart. Corrupts my inner being and forces me to act, to bring my
hand down on his shoulder, desperate to comfort him in whatever small measure I can provide.

Hunched over the library table, sobbing so softly he makes no noise and only shakes in silence,
he's a vision, an epic of vulnerability wrapped up in that young body that looks so tough but must
be as flimsy as wax paper to be this translucently telling.

So I do what I've sworn to myself I would never do because it is so highly contrary to everything I
have in my life right now, because it is everything I've tried so hard to get away from.

I touch him.

He must not have even realized I'd come in, for he jumps and scrambles away, nearly knocking the
chair over in his rush to climb to his feet and rub away the tears simultaneously. A book hits the
floor and its the loudest sound I've ever heard; it must be, to snap me out of a reverie this deep,
this absolute. Except I'm not completely out. If I were, I'd back up, get away, be somewhere
besides next to him and his sweet, tear-soaked smell.

Yes, I'm definitely still in because I'm still here and I'm reaching out to touch him again, my fingers
splaying across his shoulder with unparalleled tenderness. "Do you need to talk?"

He sniffles, shrugs. "Nah. I'm fine."

Wish hope pray he'll open up and still having problems reconciling the shameful reality with all the
self-delusion and where is this going -

"I don't believe you."

"I, uh, I was just thinking about...look, I really can't talk about this with you."

He looks to the floor, the wall, the stacks, anywhere but me and his words rip through me like an
accusation <<with you with you with you>> and now I'm wanting to cry as well. "If you say so."

Crushing weight of disappointment rejection resentment horrific sense of nothingness that eats
away even the blackness to show me a void I've never before comprehended as possible.

Then there's the hands.

There's the arms, slipping around me even as I turn away. There's the wrists, curving and molding
to press every possible inch of flesh against my belly. There's the heat sinking through my
clothing and burning so hot and fast that the word cauterization actually nibbles its way into a
few brain cells before I shut down and become all about the hands.

Because they're creeping under all the fabric and then it's just flesh on flesh, heat against more
heat, aching throbbing pulsating     no

I jerk, slip away and turn on him, resisting the urge to reach out and wipe one stray bit of
moisture from just beside his lip because if I touch there I'll touch elsewhere and those lips are
pulling me tugging me yanking me forward and resistance is out the window.

His tongue is so deep within my mouth I think I won't be able to breathe until I remember my nose,
and after a few deep draws even that is blocked, pressed against the clinging scent of
aftershave on his cheek. The sweetness of sucking on tastebuds (which still bear a resemblance
to caramel and peanuts) is suddenly my whole existence.

But now the hands are back, reaching in and around and about and the exhilaration of this heat is
excruciating and breathe and again you have to breathe or it will all end and this will be gone...How
can I breathe when he's licking my lungs and setting them afire?

I try to pull back, try to extract myself from this union of lips and tongues and hands and oh God
he's thrusting at me, so gentle in his hesitancy but more compelling because of it, and I cry out,
lose control and give in and then it's gone.

We're moving as one, tearing asunder the barriers of our lust and then slipping in our
sweat-drenched nudity.  I've never felt this entirely helpless, never allowed myself to be mauled
by hands that roam everywhere and know just the right spots to touch. This is all him, all his
instincts and desires and impulses and they have me on the floor, gripping the leg of the table
that I'll never look at the same way again.

He takes a nipple into his mouth and licks and chews with such brutal and slow tenderness that
the pleasure spikes all the way down my legs and my toes curl, dig into the floor.  I'm holding his
head, cradling it in my hands and guiding him back up to my lips. I want so much to devour every
bit of his taste, his essence, but then there would be nothing left, so I force it to be soft, easy,
shallow, and it becomes the most sensual kiss I've ever experienced. I can't bear to let it end until
again it's the hands, turning me over and kneading my back, plying every muscle into quivering
submission until I rake my fingers through my hair and beg.

I think I should be humiliated to be writhing on the floor beneath him, begging to be fucked.

I think I should be humiliated that I couldn't be further from humiliation at where I am and what
words are coming out of my mouth.

Call it blind relief; call it searing agonizing hope; call it arching up and pressing against his heat;
call it aching for something to fill this cavernous space; call it sobbing with relief when he touches
me and spreads me and nudges.

Call it sobbing just to sob when he covers my body whispering he's sorry but we can't we have
nothing and call it growling because that's the only word for it.

Growling that I don't care, growling that if he stops, if he leaves me like this I will never forgive
him and growling that he must touch me or I'll go crazy.

Call it heaving and gasping and letting out a loud strangled whoosh of ecstasy when he's in me,
rocking back and forth and then setting up a rhythm so intensely rough and mind-numbing that I
can't focus on that so I focus on the way my nipples are chafing on the carpet instead.

I focus on the feel of his tense thighs against mine. I focus on his fingers squeezing my hips and
lifting, drawing every molecule of me into his embrace. I focus on his hot breath against the back
of my neck and I drown in the sweat that's pouring from my forehead across my face and into a
small pool on the floor that looks like it could build and build and become greater than the Great
Flood, and we are the only pair that I'm interested in seeing on any ark.

He reaches around and his fingers are strong, pliant, skilled, intent on giving me my release
before he allows himself his.  It builds inside me and I'm lost, lost in the way it's waiting until it
has pounded even my brain into submission before it breaks, before it courses through my limbs
and leaves me trembling in a stretched-out heap beneath him.

He speeds up and everything is the motion, the in and out in and out in and out again and again
and harder and harder and it's only when his entire length is within me that I realize he's been
holding back. I'm fuller than I ever imagined I could be, stretched to the limits of physical law by
his engorged cock, but now I'm fuller still because he's gone, he's given one last shuddering ram
and released, shooting his seed into me and collapsing with a great groan.

He suckles my neck, the barely audible sound echoing in my ears and forcing me to turn my head,
to find his hand lying limp on the floor and take his finger into my mouth, needing just the minute
control of deciding how hard, how often, how long to lick.

"Are you okay?" he whispers.

"Yes." I don't think I  can manage any other words, terrified they will muddle the meaning and yes
covers it so well. Yes, I'm okay. Yes, it was spectacular. Yes, I want your weight on me forever.
Yes yes yes it's all so wonderful.

"Promise?"

"I can't lie to you." I sigh as he rolls off and move to take him into my arms. I need his tongue in
my mouth, I need...I need so much that I can't put into words, and he picks up on it.

"You, speechless?" He laughs, the sound grating against my skin with more pleasurable scraping
than a cat's tongue. "Faith never told me I was that good." And there it is, back again, in his
voice, that...something that isn't quite so confident.

I smile softly, his teasing cockiness lulling me into this comfortable zone that I never want to
leave. "Faith had a habit of not giving credit where credit is due," I murmur softly, stroking his
cheek.

He closes his eyes and sinks back into another long kiss. "You taste so good. Like...like nothing
I've ever tasted before. Like you."

"Are you saying I taste like a -"

"You taste perfect." He brushes at something on my nose, probably a drop of sweat, and suddenly
frowns, worried. "What?"

I want to panic. What has he seen on my face, what telling sign of the fear that he will let me go
prior to the end of eternity? So I just shake my head, terrified of putting the thought into words.

"I thought you couldn't lie to me."

I have to tell him; I have no choice because I've already opened up the core of my being to him and
his voice is so lovely as he asks it sucks the truth from me. "I'm afraid you'll think this is all a
mistake and let me go. I'm afraid you'll despise what we've done and wish it could all be erased. I'm
afraid -"

"I'm afraid I must have driven you crazy," he teased softly. "Because you're talking like a lunatic."

I shake my head. "I only want -"

"Shhhh. Hey, we have to get dressed and go."

"Go? Xander, I never want to leave your arms."

He hisses a soft, sweet breath into my ear. Quick dart of his tongue and then the sweet words.
"It's getting dark out. And I'd sorta like to see what a librarian's bedroom looks like."

I smile, holding this dear boy in my arms and feeling myself sink into a confident lull of
anticipation. "So, do I get to return the favor?"

"As many times as you want, G-man. As many times as you want."

All I can do is smile some more. "I told you not to call me that."

"Whatever you say."