Disclaimer: Not mine. Should be mine, but not mine.


He’s right here. I can touch his skin, touch his body, touch his heart. But he won’t let himself see me doing it.

A mirror. A bloody, fucking mirror. Can you think of a better way to make me feel like shit, Xan? Can you make me feel worse?

But I can’t blame him. It isn’t his fault I don’t tell him. It isn’t his fault he thinks he’s alone in this, even though he’s not.

It’s not his fault I don’t have a reflection.

I had to think of a way to fix this. He suggested the mirror, and we played with the mirror. It was hot, don’t get me wrong. Seeing him writhing there, seemingly alone, and still having his hot, slick heat in me, around me? Bloody wonderful. But I saw his eyes, when he was looking into that mirror, and I saw what he saw. Him, alone, because he was the only one who had the balls to lay open his heart in the middle of Times bloody Square.

So I had to think. How could I show him that when we were together, we were both there? That everything, absofuckinglutely everything he felt, I felt back wholeheartedly, but without the courage of a man who won’t live forever?

How could I show him the both of us, together, rather than one of us, alone.

Just fucking him? He’d see only me, and I’d see only him, and I don’t know what kind of complexes that would create in his buggered mind, but I know he’d somehow take it the wrong way and we’d be worse off than we started.

A picture? I show up on digital cameras, I know, but who’d take the picture? And where would I get a digital camera?

That’s when it occurred to me. A video camera. His beautiful body, my beautiful body, in our very own artful amateur porn video. Just the idea had my hips jerking with arousal. I stole a video camera within an hour, and I was here, in his home, 20 minutes after that.

The camera is recording, and I’ve got him on his hands and knees on the bed, leisurely thrusting into him. Gently, as if orgasm isn’t my ultimate goal here. Because while it’s inevitable and desired, it’s not my ultimate goal. My goal is to show him how beautiful he and I are together. How fully there we both are.

“Love…” I whisper in his ear, my hands roaming across his back, stomach, buttocks, drooling cock, chest, and he moans. I wonder if he even heard me, or understood, but it doesn’t matter yet.

“So good, Xan. So hot, and tight. So beautiful. Feel me in you. That’s me, in you. All in you.” My tone is purposefully erotic, my words arousing and true. Somehow, I think he should be the one in me, because he’s already worked his way into my heart. But that will happen again later. For now, I’m closer, and I can feel him shuddering beneath me as I speak, so I know he’s as close as I am.

“Spike…” he murmurs, and it’s his name on my lips that sends me bucking into him, hard, harder, so deep inside him as my release bursts into him, coating his insides with my come, with me. I feel him clench around me, gasp, cry out, and there’s scalding hot come on my hand, and I’m still shuddering, coming.

Eventually, the red daze lifts, and I become aware of my surroundings. I kiss his back, between his shoulder blades, and gently slide out of him with a slick slurp.

Xander lets his body fall to the bed, rolling onto his side. I grin and kiss him gently before standing and moving toward the camera.

“Forgot about that,” Xander says sheepishly. I’d forgotten about it too. Guess we got a little distracted, what with the wild, hot, passionate sex. And he thinks I don’t love him? Moron.

What, did he think gay sex was this hot for everybody? Not bloody likely.

Take the little cassette from the camera, put it in the adaptor tape, stick it in the VCR and rewind it. Show him the tape.

Us, on the bed writhing. My pale milk skin against his deep, dark blood-warmed skin. My lean muscles against his more bulky muscles. Light on dark, small on large, and it’s the most erotic thing. Grunts, groans, from both of us on the screen, and Xander’s heart speeding up beside me, and God I want to touch him but not yet.

I’m not through yet.

“Watch us, love,” I murmur to him, breaking down and wrapping my arms around him from behind. I’m leaning against the headboard, with him on my chest, between my thighs. We’re watching the tape, and I can see the effect it’s having on him. Hot.

“That’s us, Xan, love, together. You and me.” My mumbled words are interspersed with light touches up and down his arms, and he’s breathing harder now.

The me on the screen speaks. “So good, Xan. So hot, and tight. So beautiful. Feel me in you. That’s me, in you. All in you.” The me on the screen is oblivious to everything but love and sensation, and I know even Xander can’t miss the look of bliss on his, on my, face. The Xander in my arms whips his head around, to look into my eyes, disbelief, wonder, love, hope, dread. A gentle smile from me, and my lips are on his.

“I do love you, Xander. You’re not alone.”

“Spike…” Strangled, tight, and my hand around his cock, stripping the skin roughly with a stroking fist, tongues dueling before I direct him back to the screen, where we’re about to come.

“That’s us, love,” I strain out as his hot come coats my fingers, my cock throbbing its own release onto the small of his back, “that’s us, together.”


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