Title: Before Dinner Kinks

Author: EntreNous

Pairing: Andrew/Xander

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: All Btvs and Ats characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and affiliated production companies. I don't profit from these stories in any way. No infringement is intended.

Spoilers/Timeline: No spoilers to speak of; sometime after S7

Warning: This is on the mildest mild side of kink; all the same, if any kind of kink squicks you, you'd be advised not to read on.

Before Dinner Kinks

By EntreNous

Xander spread out the second set of blueprints on his drafting table and made a "hmmmm" sound through the pencil between his teeth. One foot was rested on the floor, the other on the lower rung of the stool, and he was comfortably propped up, leaning against the seat of the stool, ready to study the new plans.

"Lesseeenow," he murmured to himself, and reached up to pull the table light closer to the surface. He tugged at the pencil and had it poised over the notebook that lay next to the prints to jot down dimensions, when suddenly --

"Um, Xan?" a voice broke in cautiously.

". . . Yeah," he responded after a beat, making a quick scribble on the notebook before turning around.

Andrew was standing in the doorway, one hand nervously gripping the door jamb, the other placed akimbo at his hip. "Oh, you're doing things with those papers. I shouldn't just come in here like this. When you're doing stuff to your plans. I won't bother you."

"Well, if you need something, now's a good time actually. I just started to get set up, so you're not interrupting much of anything yet." Xander pushed his overly-shaggy hair out of his eyes and grinned at Andrew.

Was it his imagination, or did Andrew look . . . disappointed at this bit of information?

"Oh," Andrew said, and then made a little fluttery motion with his hands. "I don't even know why I came in here. And here you are. Working. Doing your work. Which is not really the time for me to be bothering you. In the place where you are supposed to be alone with your work . . . things."

"Okay," Xander said, his attention now fully fixed on the slight frame of his boyfriend. "Am I off base, or is there something going on?"

"I don't know," Andrew said somewhat priggishly. "Maybe you'll just have to follow me into the kitchen to pursue that question further." With that he spun about on his heel, headed into the south wing of the house.

Xander rubbed his temples morosely. He didn't have a headache yet, but if he had to play more of the "Guess What's Up with Andrew!" gameâ„¢, his head would be pounding soon enough. He turned briefly to anchor the prints to the table so they wouldn't roll back up, and walked to the kitchen with some trepidation.

Andrew was waiting, leaning against the counter. He seemed a little jumpy, and his eyes glittered.

"All right," Xander said. "You've got me in here. Do you mind telling me why?"

"I didn't make that casserole like I said I was going to," Andrew said accusingly.

Xander nodded, and then shook his head. This was what Andrew wanted to tell him?

"So we'll order pizza. Or do you want to go out for Vietnamese food? That place we went to last time was great, and they had that coffee that you like, and the . . . " Xander stopped making suggestions, because Andrew was bouncing on the balls of his feet slightly, apparently getting impatient.

"Xander? I just said. I didn't make the casserole. Like I said I would. Remember?"

"Um, uh huh," Xander agreed. "You did say that." He paused to consider why this was so important.

"And then I came in and interrupted you," Andrew offered, crossing his arms over his chest. "I bugged you when you told me you needed to get some work done this afternoon. I knew you had to do work, and I came in anyway."

"Right," Xander responded slowly. Now Andrew was just looking at him, waiting for something, because --

And then, "Oh . . . oh!" Xander exclaimed as all the pieces snapped together to form the big picture.

Andrew leaned forward expectantly. Xander turned away for a moment, waited for two or three beats, and then looked levelly at him. "Andrew?"

"Yes," Andrew whispered.

Xander gazed at Andrew until Andrew's eyes dropped.

"Get upstairs and wait for me," Xander said softly.

"Yes, okay, yes," Andrew blurted, and darted out of the kitchen double-time.

Andrew flung open the door to the bedroom, and stumbled in as he kicked off his sneakers. He dithered about what to do next, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Should he -- but it was too late to think of what to do next, because Xander had entered the room, and was shutting the door quietly behind him.

"Wait," Xander said in a low tone, and Andrew closed his eyes in feverish anticipation.

"Now," Xander said some long moments later, and Andrew looked at him quickly, a blush already spreading over his fine soft skin as he took in Xander's golden, toned form.

Xander had changed from his loose jeans and flannel shirt. His chest now bare, he was wearing black leather pants that clung to his muscular legs. He looked coolly at Andrew, who was swaying back and forth unevenly, eyes focused on Xander's crotch.

Andrew watched Xander stride over to the hard chair normally kept in the corner of the right side of the bedroom. It was comfortable, but unlike the bed, it was firm, brooking no movement as the soft mattress would have. Andrew tried not to stare, but he couldn't help but gawk as Xander settled masterfully on the chair in the center of the open space next to the bed, and turned to watch him.

"Come," Xander said simply, holding his arm out to Andrew.

Andrew scuttled over to the chair, and after the briefest of hesitations, draped himself over Xander's lap so that his pelvis was positioned against Xander's thigh, his arms and legs hanging off either side of the armless chair. He felt the blood start to rush to his head, and braced himself for the first --

"Andrew? Why are you wearing your jeans?" Xander asked the question almost gently, but his tone was steely, and Andrew jumped up in embarrassment, twisting himself up as he struggled out of his pants as fast as possible. He tore his t-shirt off as well; though that hadn't been mentioned, he was pretty sure he shouldn't keep it on. Both articles of clothing were tossed towards a darkened corner of the room.

"The boxers," Xander indicated with a firm nod, carefully taking in the sight of Andrew flushing all over as he slid down the thin cotton underwear.

Awkwardly, Andrew twisted his hands in a burst of frenetic energy. Yet Xander had only to gesture towards his leather-clad thigh before Andrew swiftly re-draped himself over his lap.

"I wonder if you want to make this easy?" Xander's smooth voice asked as his hand ghosted over the soft blonde down covering Andrew's bottom, "Or if you want to make this hard?" Andrew could almost feel the rush of air as Xander drew his hand back rapidly, and he shivered.

"I . . . I . . . oh . . . " Andrew lay still and tried to think of what the right answer was.

"I don't remember asking you a direct question," Xander murmured. Suddenly his hand came down hard on Andrew's ass, and Andrew yelped at the impact.

"Ssssshhhhhh," Xander warned him, his hand tightening harshly around the left cheek.

Andrew bit his lip when the hand disappeared, only to cry out again upon its return. The resounding *smack* vibrated throughout his body, sending a tingle through his balls.

Oh, god. Oh, god. Ohgod ohgodohgod. Another slap of Xander's hand followed, and then the pace picked up, steady and sure. Andrew could feel his blood rushing down to his ass, but apparently there was enough left over to swell his cock to the point of pain. Oh, god.

Andrew whimpered, wiggling against Xander's leather-clad lap, and began to arch back into the blows. He moaned as he realized the full extent of his predicament. It was impossible for him not to squirm, further exciting his hard cock, but there was no way he was allowed to come all over Xander's leather pants.

Oh, fuck. Xander had started to angle his hand, driving the slaps against the underside of Andrew's ass. The shift sent shuddering vibrations into Andrew's tightening balls, and caused his cock to surge with excitement. He could try to stop, if only, if only Xander . . . didn't . . . oh fuck!

"Yeah, you look so hot like this," Xander spoke darkly, his hand coming down on Andrew with a steady beat. "Your ass is all pink, and I can feel you getting harder, baby. You like that, don't you? Rubbing up against me like that . . . " Andrew cried out softly, praying that Xander wouldn't keep talking in that sexy voice. Stupid sexy Xander! It wasn't fair!!

Without warning Xander shifted under Andrew, and Andrew shrieked when he felt Xander's perfect cock, huge and straining underneath the leather, come into full relief against his own. "Mmmmmm uh hmmm," Andrew pleaded wordlessly.

The slaps continued to rain down as Xander kept up the one-sided conversation. "Yeah, you're all hard for me. Can't get enough of it. That's right, wiggle your ass more. Beautiful. Mmmm, that's right. Move like that. Darling boy. Feel that? Feel what you do to me."

Andrew tensed as he tried to stop the building pressure in his groin, then whined, bereft, when the blows stopped.

Xander easily flipped him over and scooped him up into his arms, heading over to the cushioned armchair on the other side of the room. He pushed it out away from the wall using a hard shove from his foot, and tossed Andrew over it. Andrew's reddened ass rose in the air, tweaked up at an angle and quivering slightly from the precariousness of the position.

Andrew tried to gain some purchase against the cushions, but stopped with a gasp when he felt two slicked fingers ease inside him. "Gonna fuck you now," Xander informed him hoarsely.

Andrew shoved back against the fingers as much as he was able, breathing heavily and grinding his ass in a circular motion. "Uhhhh," he called, unable to speak at this moment even if he wanted to do so.

Xander sped the pace of his fingers, continuing the torturous and delicious thrusts for a time before withdrawing them suddenly.

Andrew wiggled, pressing back as soon as he felt Xander's cock lining up against his clenching pucker. He moaned in relief and want when Xander entered him in one smooth, tantalizingly slow motion. The movement and resulting contact set off the tingling still hot on his skin from the session on the chair, and Andrew let out a high pitched cry because it felt so fucking good.

He rubbed his erection desperately against the fabric of the chair, his breath hitching as Xander began a rhythm that was as steady as that of the earlier blows, hitting Andrew's prostate with every second or third thrust. Andrew pushed back against Xander's thick cock as hard as he could, trying to heighten those sharp, sweet tinges of pain.

"Beautiful boy," Xander panted, and Andrew worked his hips back as much as possible, tensing his muscles around Xander's pulsing cock. Xander angled his torso away slightly so he could watch his cock thrusting in and out of that tight hole.

"Xander, god, Xander, please," Andrew whispered fiercely, finding his voice again as he clenched and relaxed, eliciting throaty cries from Xander.

Just when he thought he couldn't take any more, Andrew felt Xander's large hands tighten their grip on his hips, and with a final volley of plunges, Xander groaned and thrust inside him deeply, coming with a shudder. As Xander's right hand snaked up to Andrew's shoulder, grasping it to brace himself for a final spasm, Andrew shoved forward against the chair and came with a strangled cry.

He came to in the shower where Xander had a firm hold on him, kissing him passionately under the hot stream of water. Andrew returned the kiss with fervor, pressing up as hard as he could against his lover's muscular frame.

Silently they sucked and bit at each other's mouths, leaning against each other as the water washed away the suds that Xander had already soaped over both of them. They got out of the shower and toweled each other off briskly with foolish grins, dressing without a word.

"Do you want to go out and get some dinner?" Andrew said softly, leading Xander back into the kitchen downstairs.

"Well, aren't you going to make the casserole now?" Xander asked reasonably. "That's what started this whole thing, right?" He pulled Andrew backwards into his arms, and nuzzled the back of his neck.

"Oh sure," Andrew responded giddily, "I could make it, but come on, wouldn't you rather have the Vietnamese food?" He broke free of Xander's arms to turn a disarming smile on him.

Xander nodded wryly at the bright smile, and then stepped away. He held out his hand and grinned. "Come on, baby. This'll be fun. Let's go get us some Pho."

Just as they exited the house, Xander turned back to Andrew, his hand tightening around his wrist.

Andrew looked up, startled, and Xander began speaking to him in a low tone. "Maybe you got your punishment for not making dinner already. But you'll get another for deliberately antagonizing me. And it will happen when you don't expect it. I'll teach you to toy with me." With that, Xander let go of Andrew's wrist, and smiled at him before walking over to unlock the car.

Andrew shivered, and watched Xander slip into the driver's seat. "You'd better," he murmured, smirking slightly, his eyes bright with anticipation as he opened the car door.

*********The End*************