Never in a million years did Wesley think he would ever be lying naked on a couch next to Xander Harris. Of course, he never thought he would see Xander again after leaving Sunnydale behind four years earlier. Hell, he’d barely known the boy back then. Not that he was much of a boy now, scarred and aged by the mutual war they fought.
He was muscular and tan from training young slayers in Africa. His body was a solid, well-honed fighting machine, a far cry from the goofy young boy whose main defense was to laugh at the worst the world could throw at him. But it looked like Xander hadn’t laughed in quite a long time.
Tentatively Wes reached out to touch the slightly puckered flesh that used to once be Xander’s left eye. It was surprisingly smooth. The remaining eye was now open, watching Wes intently.
“Weird, isn’t it?” Xander asked casually.
“Quite the opposite, actually. They did a remarkable job,” Wesley replied, still gently stroking the skin. “Do you feel anything?”
“Barely. How about you?” Xander’s hand came up, index finger coming up to trace along the thick line under his jaw. Wes shivered in response. “I’ll take that as an affirmative.”
Wesley reveled in the touch. The next thing he knew Xander’s tongue had replaced his finger, tracing a hot, wet line.
“Christ, Xander,” he groaned, as his cock immediately responded to the stimulation.
He felt the young man smile, cock pressing hard against his thigh, “I think I’m missing out on something great. Stupid misplaced scars.”
Xander began to kiss a trail down Wesley’s chest. “And here I thought you came here to beat the shit out of me.”
“Oh, I did,” Xander confirmed, pausing momentarily before continuing on. “But then I saw that you weren’t the ninety pound weakling I remembered.”
“So you decided to fuck me instead?”
“That’s cutting out a few steps, but yeah, I guess you could say that,” hot breath now stirring against Wes’s cock. And then it was no longer hot breath, but slick, wet heat as Xander took him all the way in his mouth.
Wesley arched up as Xander pulled back before sliding down again. And up and down, tongue working expertly in conjunction until he was spasming with release.
Xander sat back as Wes came back to himself.
“Where in the hell did you pick that up?” Wes asked in amazement.
“My ex was a great teacher and a firm believer in the power of sex over grief.”
“That she was,” Xander agreed with a touch of sadness. Then shaking it off. “I should apologize about barging in here like I did.”
Wes smirked as he sat up. “Believe me, you’ve more than made up for it.”
“It was just that hearing about Cordy from Andrew of all people was . . . it wasn’t right.”
“He’s the only contact we’ve had with your group since the whole Wolfram & Hart deal,” Wes explained. “But he did tell you first, didn’t he?”
“Yeah. It’s better than nothing I guess,” Xander shrugged. “But you can’t blame us for not trusting you now.”
“It’s a sad state of affairs but understandable.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments.
Finally, Wesley spoke. “How long until your flight?”
Xander grinned, “At least three hours before I should be at the airport.”
“Plenty of time to work on improving relations, wouldn’t you say?” Wes pushed Xander back onto the couch, fully intent on showing Xander what he’d learned from his ex.