The phone rang three times before Xander was awake enough to realize it wasn't part of his dream. It was a good dream, too - he and Doyle were walking along the beach, naked, when the older man suddenly stopped and went down on his knees, taking Xander into his warm, wet mouth...and then the phone rang.
It was fairly unpleasant for the teenager to have to crawl out of his makeshift bed and limp over to the telephone with an erection so hard it hurt to walk. The voice on the other end of the line, however, was enough to make him forget about the pain.
"Hello?"
"Xan?"
"Doyle! I was just dreaming about you." The younger man ran his hand through his dark, sleep-flattened hair and grinned.
"Really? Was it a *good* dream?" The half-demon's voice sounded tinny and small, and behind him, Xander could hear horns honking and people yelling.
"Yeah, as a matter of fact, it was. Where are you?"
"I'm at the pay phone in front of my building. There's some problem with my line..."
Like that it got disconnected? Xander wanted to ask, but restrained himself. Their relationship was still too new to ask certain questions.
"Anyway," the Irishman continued hurriedly, "I was wondering if you had any plans for this weekend."
Xander thought for a minute, then sighed. "You mean besides the typical slaying and mayhem-stoppage? Not really."
"Good, because you're going to spend it with me."
Those words set off images that made most of the slayerette's blood take a sudden turn south. He shivered in anticipation. "Okay. Since I'm still unemployed, I can leave pretty much any time you want me to. Should I meet you at the office again?"
"No. Actually, I'm going to pick you up in Sunnydale. I thought we'd go someplace a little less 'demony' for a coupla days."
This was unexpected. "Less demony? Like where?"
Now there was definite laughter in the older man's voice. "It's a surprise. Say I pick you up around eight on Friday night?"
A thought occurred to Xander's still somewhat sleep-addled brain. "Doyle, you don't have a car."
"I do this weekend. Let's just say Angel lost a bet, so the car's mine for a couple days."
Xander decided not to pursue that topic over the phone. He'd soon have two whole days in which to find out just what kind of bet the emperor of brood had lost. "And what happens if you have a vision?"
"That's what telephones were invented for."
Although he tried for several minutes, Xander could see no other huge obstacles to a weekend alone with Doyle, the man he was quickly falling in love with. "You still remember how to get to my house?"
"I'll find it. I'm almost outta change here, so..."
"I'll see you on Friday. Bye, Doyle."
"See you then."
The teen hung up the phone thoughtfully, wondering what Doyle had planned.
* * * * * * *
Three days later, Xander sat on his couch, flipping through television channels as he impatiently waited for Doyle to arrive. The half-demon wasn't late; it was just that Xander had gotten packed and ready insanely early, and now had absolutely nothing to do as he watched the minutes tick slowly towards eight o'clock.
He had just gotten into an old rerun of Space Ghost on the cartoon network when there was a knock on his door. He jumped up so fast to answer it that the warm soda he had been holding in his lap dumped all over his crotch and thighs. "Dammit!" he cursed, grabbing a paper towel from the kitchen area as he made his way to the door.
He opened it to find Doyle looking back over his shoulder, probably wondering if he was at the right house or not. When the half-demon turned and saw him standing in the doorway, the Irishman smiled, then started to laugh as his eyes focused on the wet spot on the teenager's pants. "What happened?" he asked between attempts to stifle his giggles.
"I spilled some soda. Come in for a sec and let me change, okay?"
Amiably the older man made his way into the room as Xander tried to find something else to wear. All of his clean clothes were packed for the weekend (which showed exactly how often he did laundry). Finally, he located a pair of baggy carpenter's pants that were a little less dirty than everything else. He hesitated over whether or not he should go into the bathroom to change, since Doyle had already seen all there was to see. At last he shrugged once and began to slide off his khakis without leaving the room.
"Need any help with that?" The half-demon asked, licking his lips as he watched the wet pants come off, revealing the brunette's strong legs and plaid boxers.
"No, I think I can change my pants all - " Xander's mouth stopped working as he felt Doyle's warm hands gently cup his backside while nimble fingers traced the pattern on his underwear. He straightened up from his hunched over position and was rewarded with the wet heat of Doyle's tongue on the back of his neck.
Immediately aroused, the younger man turned around quickly and grabbed the half-demon's shoulders, dragging the other man's head down and capturing that mouth with his own. As Doyle's fingers threaded through his hair, Xander managed to slide one hand between them and locate the straining flesh behind Doyle's fly. As he leisurely stroked the hard shaft through the thin material of the pants, Xander felt the seer gasp into his mouth. However, as soon as his fingers moved to unfasten the jeans, he felt the half-demon gently but firmly push him away.
"What's wrong?" the slayerette asked, confused and not certain if he should be hurt at this apparent rejection.
"Nothing's wrong," the green-eyed man assured him, "I just thought we might want to wait until we get where we're going to finish this."
Xnader blinked at him, then smiled. "You know, you still haven't told me where that is."
Doyle grinned wickedly. "It's a surprise." When he saw that Xander was not going anywhere until he got more information than that, he relented. "I just thought it would be nice to get away and have a weekend to ourselves. So I got us a room at a hotel about an hour from here. It has a hot tub in every room," he added.
Xander grinned and placed a semi-chaste kiss on the Irishman's mouth. "Just lemme put these pants on, and we can go."
* * * * * * *
Xander was having trouble reading the directions written in Doyle's odd scrawl. "It looks like 'tang lint at sesame lung', but somehow I think that's not right."
The Irishman glanced over at the scrap of paper. "Turn left at second light."
"And then 'tried drawer on the river'?"
"Third driveway on the right. You know, it's probably your eyes. My handwriting's really not that bad."
"Hmm," said Xander in what he hoped was a non-committal enough tone.
Then the car was pulling up in front of a large hotel which was obviously much more elegant and luxurious than the Comfort Inn, which had been the only other hotel Xander had stayed in. A valet jumped up and opened the car doors for them as another man loaded their pitifully small amount of luggage onto a cart and wheeled it inside as they trailed behind him. Within the lobby was a huge cascading waterwall surrounded by antique chairs on opulent Oriental rugs. It took the younger man's breath away.
He turned to stare at the slightly shorter man standing beside him. "We're staying here? We can't be staying here."
Doyle simply shrugged and walked up to the front desk, gave his name and received two identical passkeys. The guy with the luggage cart followed them onto the elevator and up to the eighth floor, where Doyle gave him a tip after he deposited the bags in their room.
If Xander had been wide-eyed before, he was about to have a stroke now. The room was *huge*. Two double beds, a large television, a minibar, and, of course, a hot tub. Plus a balcony and a bathtub big enough for two. It was heaven.
"How...you can afford this?"
Doyle took obvious pleasure in Xander's happiness and amazement. "Let's just say I called in a few favors, okay?"
"Must've been pretty big favors," the young man muttered, already fiddling with the dials on the hot tub.
Doyle shrugged. "It was worth it." He walked over to where the slayerette was sitting on the edge of the hot tub and sat beside him. "So, there's the room, an indoor and an outdoor pool, a gym, and some kind of bowling alley. What do you want to do first?"
Xander studied him for a moment before answering. "You."
The green eyed man smiled and let himself be led back over to one of the beds. The teenager slid his arms around the lean frame before him and pressed his mouth to that of the other man, his tongue gently coaxing Doyle to open up to him. The Irishman ran his fingers down Xander's smooth cheek, along his jaw, across his chest and finally just under his shirt, teasing the heated flesh of the stomach. The brunette arched into the touch, giving Doyle incentive to slip his hand further under the shirt, skimming the bare chest and latching onto first one nipple and then the other.
The youth couldn't help but moan as the agile fingers continued their assault. In retaliation, he ripped his mouth away from the other and fastened onto the tender flesh of Doyle's neck, alternately biting, licking and sucking a path from jaw to shirt collar. Once there, he made a slight rumble of frustration as his fingers came up to make short work of the buttons in his way. Once opened completely, he shoved the shirt off of the half-demon's shoulders, then reluctantly removed his mouth from the older man's neck so that the white undershirt could be tugged off and discarded as well. Finally, there was a bare-chested Doyle sitting in front of him. Grinning, Xander pressed his hands to the slightly hairy flesh and pushed down, compelling the green-eyed man to lay down on his back. Licking his lips, the teen leaned forward over him, running his moist tongue from navel to neck, bow to stern, before returning to the navel and thrusting into it .
The half-demon writhed on the bed beneath him, his hands coming up finally and stripping away Xander's shirt. Chest to chest, they kissed wetly while unhurriedly beginning to thrust their pelvises against one another. At length, it was Xander who couldn't endure the delicious torment any longer. Needing more, he returned his fingers to the fastening of Doyle's pants, happy in the knowledge that this time he would not be brushed away. Meanwhile, he could feel Doyle's fingers going to work on the button fly of the baggy jeans he wore.
Because Xander was the one on top, it was up to him to roll off Doyle so they could each remove their pants. After three unsuccessful tries (when Doyle's hands or mouth made him forget what he had been trying to do), the teen ultimately pulled away enough to kick his shoes off, then yank the jeans down and toss them off the bed. When he turned back, the other man was busy removing his own trousers. Xander couldn't help but stare appreciatively as more and more of Doyle's flesh was revealed. In the dark of the Irishman's apartment during their last encounter he hadn't been able to be fully conscious of the gorgeous body next to him.
He glanced up at the older man's face and realized that Doyle was also giving him the once-over. Their eyes locked and held as the half-demon leaned in for a gentle kiss. "Beautiful," he breathed when their mouths broke apart.
Xander squirmed with pleased embarrassment and rising anticipation. He had been waiting for this moment from practically the first instant he had laid eyes on the green-eyed man. He didn't think he could wait much longer.
Thankfully, it looked like Doyle agreed with him on that. The older man abruptly jumped off the bed and grabbed his suitcase, rummaging around until he triumphantly held up a small tube of lubricant. Hopping back on the bed, he fixed the slayerette with a look that Xander couldn't really interpret, but which nevertheless made his stomach flip over.
"Lay down," the older man commanded in a soft voice.
The youth lay on his back, watching as Doyle uncapped the lube and motioned for Xander's hand. "Prepare me," he said, squirting a generous amount onto the teenager's shaking fingers. Xander was extremely surprised. Somehow, he had always imagined that he would be the bottom for their first time. In his limited experience with men (Larry, twice in the night before graduation), he hadn't had enough time to decide what his preference was. Still, he was glad Doyle was taking the lead here.
The teen sank one finger into the hidden entrance centimeter by centimeter, stopping until he felt Doyle beginning to relax around him. "It's been awhile," the older man explained gruffly. Xander merely smiled and crooked the finger, jabbing at the prostate gland until he felt something bump against him. Doyle jumped and moaned. Smiling more broadly, Xander concentrated on hitting it again and again until the other man pulled away from him a little. That was the teen's cue to slip in another finger, which he did with little trouble. The third finger was hard, though, as Doyle's inner muscle closed tightly around his digits.
Abruptly, Doyle turned around and shoved the youth flat on his back once more. Slopping more lube onto Xander's straining flesh, the Irishman lifted himself off the bed and positioned the boy's cock at his puckered entry, then allowed the hard length to penetrate him exceedingly slowly.
When Xander was completely sheathed, they both took a deep breath at the sensations coursing through them. After a moment, Doyle was able to move, gradually lifting himself up and letting himself glide back down again. Xander's hand wrapped itself around Doyle's hard length, stroking in time to the rises and falls of the other man.
It wasn't long before the human could feel himself getting too close to the edge. His hips began thrusting frantically as his hand involuntarily tightened on Doyle's cock. The feel of Doyle's warm come spurting between his fingers as well as the interior muscles contracting around his shaft is what finally made him lose his control as he emptied himself inside the half-demon with a cry.
He vaguely felt Doyle collapse on top of him as he tumbled into sleep.