Xander dropped his pencil impatiently on the table. It promptly rolled off onto the floor next to the wall. He
looked around, hoping maybe he could ask someone to pick it up for him. No such luck, but he'd known that
already - Willow, Cordelia, and Oz were all gone, having left shortly after Buffy had dropped by to tell them
that the candy crisis had been resolved. Xander had volunteered to do the post-research cleanup thing, since
Giles, according to Buffy, was not in any condition to do it.

"Damn." With a sigh, Xander leaned over the table, groping for the pencil. He couldn't quite reach, and he
laid himself flat on the table, his feet still on the floor. Within seconds, he had the pencil.

"A-*haauuggh*!" he yelped as someone grabbed his hips from behind. Reflexively, he tried to straighten up,
but the person grasped the back of his neck and pushed him back down.

"Stay," a voice whispered sharply. Xander stayed, trying to figure out who it was, but the one-word muffled
whisper wasn't any help. A piece of black cloth was wrapped tightly around his eyes, tied securely behind his
head. Xander started to shake.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Does it matter?" The whisper was muffled; Xander couldn't identify it.

A pair of hands began to caress his ass. Xander gasped sharply, trying to pull away.

"Relax," the whisper murmured. The hands continued their slow caresses and Xander soon found himself
following the voice's instructions, sagging a little against the table. The hands slipped around to the front
and undid Xander's zipper.

"No," Xander protested weakly. His aggressor ignored him, and Xander moaned in spite of himself as a hand
slid around his cock.

The hand massaged him gently, then more firmly, until Xander was squirming on the table, gripping the
edges and biting his lips. He began to thrust against the warm palm as best he could, his hips banging
against the table. The hand abruptly took a firm, but not too tight, grip on his hard cock, effectively ceasing
Xander's movements.

"Hold still," the whisper rasped.

"Okay," Xander mumbled. "Just don't stop." He heard a whispery chuckle, and the hand resumed, moving a
little faster than before. Xander moaned, biting down hard on his lower lip to remind himself to keep still.

After a moment, the hand slipped away. Xander heard a soft murmur as the person straightened up.

"Why . . . ?" Xander began, but he was shushed brusquely. He thunked his head against the table from sheer
frustration, prompting the whisper to counsel,

"Patience is a virtue, Xander . . . you know, I hate that saying. The hell with patience." Xander relaxed, but
not too much, lest he slide right off the table. He heard the sounds of a lid being unscrewed from a jar, loud
in the silent library. Suddenly, his jeans and boxers were jerked down roughly, the zipper scraping along his
thigh, making him shiver. A few seconds later he was yelping in indignant surprise as a lubed-up finger was
thrust into his ass. The voice immediately shushed him again as the finger worked slowly in and out. The
other hand slipped around and began to lightly stroke his cock again. Xander groaned softly, biting his lip so
hard he broke the skin. A second finger joined the first, then a third, pulling the tight passage open wide,
and thrusting in and out quickly. The hand on his cock matched their rhythm. Xander gasped and moaned,
shaking from lust and the desire to move against his mystery lover's touch.

Too soon, the hands moved away, and Xander, his mind completely clouded with pleasure, could only groan
in disappointment. A soft laugh came from above him. Xander blinked. A masculine laugh . . . ?

A moment later - it was only a few seconds, but it seemed longer - something probed against, then into,
Xander's anus. Suspicions confirmed - a man! Xander gave an odd strangled cry.

"Hold on tight," the man murmured, and had the voice actually changed, or was it Xander's imagination?
Xander gripped the table as best he could with his suddenly sweaty hands, and the man began to thrust,
slowly, into him.

Xander gasped at the initial pain, his body flinching in protest at the invasion. Then, as the pain subsided, it
was replaced with unexpected pleasure.

As the speed of the thrusts slowly increased - must be ever mindful of the fact that this was Xander's first
time - he slipped his hand around the boy's painful erection, pumping him in time with his thrusts.

Soon, he was slamming into Xander, unable to suppress his soft moans, which Xander couldn't identify, not
that he was especially concerned about identity anymore. He held onto the table tightly, his hips banging the
edge with each increasingly hard thrust.

Abandoning all pretenses at gentleness, he pounded into Xander, their moans growing louder. Xander
exploded with a yell, his muscles clamping tightly around his lover's cock. The added pressure sent him over
the edge, and he came silently, letting out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. He slumped down on
top of Xander as both of them fought to regain control.

A few minutes passed. Then the man lowered his head next to Xander's ear and whispered,

"Now, Xander, you have a choice to make. I can get up and just walk away, and this can remain a mystery.
Or, you may remove the blindfold and see who I am."

Xander paused, thinking. This could be anyone? Did he really want to know? The identity could completely
ruin this for him. But . . . so could always wondering, speculating and coming up with possibilities that could
be worse than the truth.

As Xander thought, the man stepped back, pulling up his own jeans, then Xander's. Xander straightened up,
wincing slightly at the pain in his ass.

"You're going to feel that in the morning."

Xander turned to face the voice, took a deep breath, and spoke.

"I wanna see you."

"Very well then." Ripper reached around and untied the blindfold. He didn't bother to whisper this time;
Xander would know him in a few seconds . . .
 

The End (Okay, okay, so between the title and the notes, I pretty much gave it away. I'm sorry. *g*)