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Heat Stroke

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Xander closed his eyes in disbelief; this was not happening. Oz, Willow’s blue haired, short, werewolf lover, did not currently have his tongue shoved halfway up Xander’s ass. It just couldn’t happen.

It had started innocently enough; Oz grabbed him on his way into the library and had him help unload something Giles needed from the van. After staggering in under the weight of whatever the hell it was that Giles couldn’t live without, they were sent out for coffee, as Cordelia had… happened to Giles’ machine.

They wandered back out of the building, tugging off their sweat-soaked shirts and laughing as they wiped down their overheated bodies. The van’s A/C broke years ago, and their backs stuck to the hot vinyl covering the seats as they drove down the street.

Feeling rather lackadaisical in the summer heat, Xander tapped out a beat on the chipped roof, humming softly under his breath as he stared off into the distance.

He came back to himself at an agitated sounding curse from the normally calm boy beside him. The van jerked and stalled, and Oz aimed for the shoulder of the road.

“Well… That’s that, then.”

Oz climbed out of the van, slamming the door as he did so. Xander’s eyes were drawn to the lithe form as he began making his way down the road, headed back toward the school.

“Oz! Wait up!”

A half an hour later found them both underneath a tree on the side of the road, wishing for a freak snowstorm, an alien abduction… anything that meant getting out of the mid-day heat.

They sat silently for a while, a light breeze cooling their damp skin.

“It’s too hot,” muttered Oz, as he lay back on the ground, his forearm over his eyes. “Who would drink coffee when it’s this hot?”

Xander snorted, falling back to lay beside Oz on the rough, dry grass. “Dunno. What I wouldn’t do for something cool.” He moaned as he raised his arms, the sweat pooled there evaporating almost immediately. “God that feels good. We may have to get up and do something just so we can cool off again.”

Oz hmmmed in agreement. “Either that, or we could lick each other.”

Xander started, raising to his elbows to glare at Oz. “What?”

Oz sighed and rolled to face Xander. “It was a joke, Xander.”

Xander stared at him uncertainly. “Yeah. Joke. Ha.”

Oz grinned and flopped back onto his back, his arm returning to its position over his eyes.

Heat began soaking back into Xander’s flesh, and he found himself wondering if Oz’s idea had any credibility. Tentatively, he ran his tongue down the back of his hand, tasting salt. The damp patch of skin dried and cooled immediately, causing him to begin licking absentmindedly at his arms.

A sharp intake of breath drew his attention back to Oz. He paused mid lick and grinned. “You may have been right. Licking helps.”

Oz’s eyes became almost feral and Xander felt his own breath catch in his chest.

“Show me,” Oz muttered, holding out his arm to Xander.

Unable to refuse the quiet order, Xander’s tongue slipped out of his mouth and drug lightly along the pale, freckled skin before him.

Another groan and Xander was flat on his back, his tongue once again caressing Oz as their mouths fused; battled.

They moved over each other’s bodies, mapping out long trails of dampness across chests and bellies. Oz’s tongue dipped into Xander’s navel, causing an open mouthed cry from Xander.

“Why does that feel so good?” The question ended with a moan as Oz popped open the button of his cargo pants. “What… Oz? What are you…”

The sound that emerged when Oz’s mouth took his cock down to the root would be classified somewhere between a scream and a shriek. His pants disappeared somewhere off to the right, and he wasn’t entirely sure that he cared at all.

He glanced down and kohled eyes locked with his. He watched, unable to look away as Oz’s blue head dipped lower and lower, until each exhaled breath tickled across his perineum and balls.

Which is how he found himself here, flipped over onto his knees as Oz’s tongue teased and thrust, lapped and plunged, turning him into something that resembled nothing so much as a loose pile of warm jello.

A tingling in his toes drew his attention away from Oz’s magical tongue and he cried out in a combination of disappointment and pleasure as he came, uttering Oz’s name over and over again under his breath.

A small hand, coated in what appeared to be his own come, was presented to his mouth, the sticky fingers pressing inside. He lapped at the come as Oz collapsed onto him, draped over his back as he whispered into Xander’s ear. His body seemed to keep out the heat rather than add to it, and Xander pondered this oddity until he heard Oz’s quiet words.

“Taste what you do to me, Xan. See what you did? If I wasn’t so sure that you’ve never even had a finger in here…” A single digit dipped down to caress Xander’s grasping hole. “I’d be working to get hard again so that I could be inside you.”

A kiss to his shoulder and Xander was once again on his back, his flaccid cock pressed up against Oz’s as his mouth was claimed and owned.

The End