Chapter The Only
I do not hold the copy right to Buffy the Vampire Slayer™ or The Merry Gentry Series™, nor do I claim to. All characters belong to their original creators, their publishers, and subsidiaries. I make no profit from the making or sharing of this fanfiction. No slander, insult, or infringement is intended with the making and sharing of this fanfiction.They say opposites attract. What they don't have a saying for is that similarities are just as attractive. Well, psychologists and biologists might, but they aren't the people who make up all those pop culture maxims, are they?
Rhys and I? Couldn't be more different, yet at the same time, it seems like we were made for each other. He's an immortal Sidhe. I'm a mortal human. He is under a geas (1) of celibacy. I'm. . . not. If it weren't for my grief over Anya, I would probably have gone out and gotten laid every night after Sunnydale fell, out of the sheer exhilaration of being alive. He is ancient. I'm haven't even reached a quarter century. He was once worshiped as a god. I was the Zeppo.
And then there are the things we can bond over. Our use of humor as a defense mechanism. Our one-eyed-ness. Our love of film noir. The red-headed women in our lives. Magic. Ooglie-booglies and how to kill them. Admittedly he is far better at the killing-fighting thing, but still. We understand each other, at least in some things.
When we met at the convention, I though we would end up being great friends. We probably would have been too, if it weren't for the gin. Buffy found out the evils of beer after the whole Parker incident. Then again, it didn't help that a malicious warlock-wannabe had spiked it with mojo. But nobody warned me about the pure deviousness of gin! I never would have touched the stuff had I been warned. Then again. . .
Okay, hypothetical foreknowledge of the outcomes of my drinking of the gin is irrelevant. Besides, it hurts my head to think about it. And I suppose you want to know what the drinking of the gin is about, huh? Well, it goes like this.
Dawn had managed to grab a table for four in the dinning room and scared any other conventioners away by vicious glares and the odd growl. After hanging around Spike for years, patrolling, and learning various demon languages she was very, very
good at growling. Very intimidating to anyone not Xander. After learning Afrikaans, Swahili, Dahalo, and Sandawe (2) he could contort his tongue in ways that squid would envy. He was the master of intimidating sounds. (And she was of course his first apprentice once he got back onto American soil)
Anyway, being in the dining room would imply food. In this case dinner. It was the first official night of the convention, the costume contest for the men was complete (Xander had won!), and it was time for the boring speeches before the actual food came out.
And boring speeches means a bored
Xander. Smart girl that she was, Dawn had planned ahead and ordered a bottle of gin. Xander sipped at his glass. . . at first. Then the taste began to grow on him. The more he drank, the more interesting the speeches became. He kept drinking cold gin while jazz played all through the meal, then he took the girls out for a few dances.
Fun was had by all, and the bottle of gin was gone by dessert. Everyone had had a glass, but Xander had had two or three, enough to be a bit more than pleasantly buzzed. He wasn't drunk, but was definitely more uninhibited than he normally was. Which leads to the consequences of gin.
Naughty, naked things that trumped stripping in a Ladies club by far. Naughty, naked things that Xander had secretly wondered about when Larry came out to him. Naughty, naked things he had never done before. Naughty, naked things with. . . a male.
Now, Xander wasn't homophobic. He had nothing against the gayness of either males or females. He had just never though he'd have a gayness that he would need to have nothing against. Did that make sense? It's not that he had never wondered about gay sex. There was the Larry thing, then there were the questions about Sire-Childe bonds, then the disturbing questions about Giles and Ethan, then Willow came out. . . sex and gayness was all around him. Hell, he was a stereotype waiting to happen. But he had never though about himself and gayness going together.
Then the gin happened. And the consequences that were naughty, naked things. With a male. With Rhys. . . a Sidhe. Xander was damn lucky that he hadn't been elf-struck. He distinctly remembered glowing.
Wait, naughty, naked things. Right. That happened after the girls got to talking about handkerchiefs and stockings. Rhys and he had just looked at each other and known that they had to get away. It was one thing to see a girl wearing sexy underwear. It was another thing entirely to debate about it clinically. The two men escaped while their girls were distracted.
The next ten or twenty minutes was kind of hazy in Xander's memory, but somehow he ended up in a deserted hallway of the hotel with his tongue in the sidhe's mouth. How he got there (that geographical place and that physical position), only the gods knew. Or would that be Goddess? Powers-That-Be? Whatever. Xander had no clue.
But he wasn't really freaking out. Rhys was warm and exciting, and his magic tingled pleasantly against his skin. It felt good and he couldn't figure out if he even should
be freaking out. Then fingers found a spot just under his left shoulder blade that had a puckered scar. Mildly hard pressure sent sensation shooting down his spine. In his slightly tipsy state, it was neither painful nor pleasurable. He simply felt. He tore his mouth away to gasp a quickly indrawn breath. Rhys's mouth apparently didn't like having nothing to do, and so attacked his neck.
The tow of them stumbled their way to an elevator, groping and kissing liberally on their way. Most people were still eating dessert, thank any higher power who was looking out for them. Two one-eyed men stumbling around like horny teenagers on Viagra would have scared the shit out of anyone normal. Then there was elevator frottage. Mirrored elevator frottage (3).
Xander somehow got his hands under Rhys's thighs and hoisted him up, legs wrapped around his hips. Kissing, groping, heavy petting, and thrusting ensued. And Rhys had a hell of a view of Xander's clothed back and ass in the mirror. And then there was wet kisses and nibbling on his neck. It was enough to start him glowing, like there was a flickering candle inside his skin.
Concern for the mortal bloomed inside him, but then the knowledge that Xander was no mere mortal returned. He had seen through his and Merry's glamour. His aura had the marks of one favoured by the Goddess. He was no mere mortal. He would be safe. Then there was biting and concerns fled.
Xander tried to pull away when the elevator doors dinged and opened on Rhys's floor, but the sidhe refused to be parted. His legs clung tighter, and his arms wrapped themselves around Xander's neck and shoulders, after slapping his room key in the younger man's hand. Then there were hands supporting his ass, ugly hotel corridor, then door against his back. Then they were in his room.
Bed under his back. Soft, comfortable bed. A bed where they could have sex. And then concern came rushing back. Xander didn't know. Xander didn't know about his geas. Shit.
"Xander? Xander, we have a slight problem."
"Xander, if you don't stop, we're both gonna die."
"Wha-?" Xander's head shot up and glared simultaneously confusedly and drunkenly at the man under him.
"Queen Andais has all her guards under a geas of celibacy. I can't. . . I can't have sex with you." Rhys feared. He wasn't to clear on the specifics. He was just afraid that saying it out loud would make bad things happen.
But instead of bad things happening, Xander huffed, gave him a hell of a toe curling kiss and flopped onto his back. "S'okay. Don't think slightly drunken man-sex is the best thing anyway. Should be special. Faith wasn't anything special. She wasn't even nice. But you're nice, so the sex-thing with the you and the me should be nice too. I think I'm going to pass out."
Two heart beats later, Xander was snoring. Rhys didn't know if he should be relieved or insulted or flattered. Xander wanted any kind of sex thing to be special. He smiled, curled up into Xander's side and fell asleep too. He'd it figure out in the morning.
(1) Wondering what exactly a geas is?
(2)Articles on these languages are all available at Wikipedia
(3) Definition can be found here
. Result #1, definition #3.