Xander watched Oz.

Everyone blamed Xander for the whole kissage fiasco. And he supposed he shouldn’t feel slighted. They seemed to forget that there were two people there. Two people whose lips touched, who wanted each other, who took comfort in each other’s arms. And he couldn’t help but feel angry at that. Why was he to blame, when Willow was there as well?

But he did feel guilty, nonetheless. He knew, even if he wasn’t at fault, that he was at least taking advantage.

Because Willow wasn’t the one he wanted to kiss.

She was the one who was there at the time, who wanted to kiss him, who had been kissing the one he wanted. The one he couldn’t get. So when Xander kissed Willow… he was a jerk.

Because he wanted to be kissing Oz.

So he watched, desperately hoping Oz wouldn’t take Willow back, and feeling horrible for those same jealous thoughts. He knew he needed to get over it, to not think about it, to be happy with his lot in life, but he couldn’t.

His thoughts kept straying back to Oz, his day dreams getting progressively hotter, and his night time fantasies – well, lets just say he was changing the sheets a lot.

He was consumed with desire, with need. With an overwhelming desire to … to… well, he wasn’t sure exactly what, but it had something to do with Oz’s body pressed against his, and those hungry lips devouring him.

He even fantasized about being bitten. Giving Oz the one thing he knew without a doubt that Willow wouldn’t – a mate in every sense of the word. Not that he would of course. Who in their right mind would choose to be a wolf three nights of the month? But still, if it would give him the edge…

Of course, Willow would kill him. Giles would get that disappointed look. And Buffy…well, never make her that mad when you’re not a hundred percent human anymore.

Xander knew he was in trouble when Oz caught him staring. Maybe he could shrug it off, but this was probably the third time he’d been caught. The third time the boy had given him that stare that clearly showed he was pissed. The sad part was; even that look was enough to make him harder. What kind of a jerk was he? Not only did his girlfriend dump him and his best friend was avoiding him, but the one person he wanted desperately was standing there, looking angry, and it was all he could do not to shift and cause attention to his …um … problem?

Rushing home from the library he ran up to his room and grabbed a bottle of lotion. He couldn’t stand it. He began to stroke himself, dreaming that the other boy was there, that his look of anger was a look of lust, that Oz would want him as much as he wanted Oz. Caught in his fantasy he could almost smell the faint scent of Oz, kind of earthy with a hint of something uniquely Oz, but not readily identifiable. He began to pump his hand faster, moaning the boy’s name out as he balls began to tighten and he got ever so closer. “Oz…”

A smaller hand grabbed his cock and Xander’s eyes flew open. It just couldn’t be!

Without a word, Oz’s hand began to trace the contours of his dick, lightly tracing the length of him and driving him crazy. Xander opened his mouth to say something – he wasn’t sure what – when Oz silenced him with a kiss. There wasn’t a single word spoken as Oz teased and tormented him with his slow strokes, until Xander couldn’t stand it anymore and came with a guttural cry.

Oz gave a mysterious smile and spoke quietly, “You could have just said something.”

Xander dropped to his knees and began to apologize to his – hopefully – new boyfriend.

~Fini