The Curve Of Your Lips Rewrite History

I'm having the dream again.

It's me, and a guitar. I'm a big fucking rock star, everyone wants me. Everyone wants my big rock star ego and my big cock pounding into them over and over and over, just thrusting harder and harder.

But there's one person looking up at me, lips glossy from being licked, worshipping eyes looking up at me. Sheer want. Sheer lust. Everything focused only on me. Just me.

I've had this dream for years. The person's changed over time, of course, but never like this. It wasn't Buffy. It wasn't Cordelia. Or Faith. Or Ms. French. Or Ms. Calendar. Or Willow.

It was Oz. Oz looked up at me with lust filled eyes, licking his lips. Oz wanted me. He opened that mouth, that mouth that would look so good around my cock, that mouth that I wanted to drink from, and said in the faintest of whispers, "You're dreaming."

I woke up alone, in a fleabag truck stop motel in Needles. The air conditioner growled in the window, turned up to full blast and only making the room a few degrees cooler than outside. The sheets stuck to my body, sweaty even in this dry air. I groaned and rolled over, moving slowly off the bed, letting the sheets slide off me. I stood up, stretching and yawning, scratching my nude body.

This heat fucking sucked. This place sucked. I went straight from the bed into the shower, turning the old shower to cold, hearing the shrieking of the pipes, and the faint scent of sulphur. I dove into the vaguely cool water, trying to cool down, the weak stream of water flowing down my face.

I had to get out of this god damn town. And fast. And not think about that damn dream again. The dream I've had for the past few weeks, the dream that just appeared out of nowhere right after graduation.

Graduation. Where I was in charge. I lead the students, I kicked the Mayor's ass, and what did I get in return? "Oh thanks Xander. We're going to college now. Have fun doing whatever you're doing." Yeah. Thank you and fuck you, Xander Harris.

Fucking Buffy. Fucking Giles. Fucking Cordelia. Fucking Willow. Fucking Oz.

Fucking Oz. Images flashed through my head. Thin delicate fingers pressing into my hips as short spiky pomaded hair poked ticklishly into my inner thighs as Oz licked the head of my cock.

I shook my head and got out of the shower. I had to get out of this town. I tossed on my usual travelling wardrobe - cutoffs and a t-shirt, and walked out to my car. First, food. Then, out.


I went to the Wagon Wheel and ordered a huge dinner, trying to fill up my stomach before I went on the road. I sat there eating and eating, avoiding the long stares of truckers, glancing at my ass as I went into the bathroom. God, I was so glad I had a car. I'd hate to spend my trip giving large truckers blow jobs for rides.

I was just wiping off the last of the gravy with a slice of bread, trying to figure out what pie I was going to have, when a shadow came over my plate. I sighed. "Look, I've got a ride and I'm not interested, okay?"

"That's nice, but what's it got to do with that last bit of mashed potatoes on your plate?"

I looked up in shock, my eyes growing even wider when I saw who was standing above me. "Jesus Christ," I whispered. "Oz?"

Oz smiled a faint knowing smile. "Yeah."

I sort of stood, not knowing what else to do. "Oz, fuck, what're you...what the...?" I took a deep breath. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Oz chuckled slightly and gestured towards the empty seat across from me. "Can I sit?"

"Yeah, sure. You want anything? I don't have much on me, much I can spend on anything but gas and the occasional cheap motel room, but I can get you some pie or ice cream or coffee or something..." I was babbling. Jesus Christ, the person I've been dreaming about, the GUY I've been thinking about fucking, shows up in the last place I figured to see him, and I was babbling like a kid. Or like Willow. Fuck, don't think about Willow, don't think about Willow she fucked everything up before.

Oz just smiled that enigmatic smile, the one that always made me wonder just what the hell was on his mind, and sat down. "No, thanks." His smile grew just a bit wider. "You just arriving or just leaving?"

I set down my fork and looked right at him. "About to leave this town," I said, pushing my plate back. "Been here for three days and it's wearing a little thin. The river, the Indian casinos, the single trip to Laughlin where I can't gamble, it's faded for me."

"Going along Route 66?"

I nodded, trying to figure out exactly what the hell was going on. "Um...what're you doing here?" Yeah. Blunt. That works. Because I can't figure out why I'm here and why he's here and dear God is this another dream or is it real and I don't know which one is scarier.

He shrugged. "Visiting some people. I heard that there were some people up near Oatman who knew a bit about Coyote legends out here...including a bit of the whole werewolf thing..."

God how could he look so incredibly attractive while talking about standard spooky crap that I swore I wasn't going near again? Why the fuck did I even see him attractive? I didn't know what was going on, how the hell could I?

I found myself talking. Before I was thinking. Again. Fuck.

"...well, you know, if you need a ride or something, you could possibly tag along I mean, I have to go to Oatman on Route 66 and it ought to be fun to have someone along because I sure can't pick up hitchhikers, I mean, have you seen those horror movies out there and, well, you know..." I stopped quickly, putting my hand over my mouth. "Shit," I muttered under my breath.

Oz smiled that smile again, but it was different. Oh hell, I've seen that smile, I know that smile, it's the smile he gave to Willow every day but oh jesus he was giving it to me. "That'd be good," he said softly, looking right at me.


We drove for at least an hour, driving further and further along those curvy roads, driving through the brown sloping mountains, only the rock formations changing. We passed Oatman, turning onto a tiny dirt road. The car bumped along, hitting every rock between us and our final destination - a dingy brown with dust trailer set in a tiny nook surrounded by rocks, surrounded by cactus, surrounded by nothing.

I stopped the car and got out, looking around at the dust and tumbleweed and glint of beer cans in the sunlight. "You sure know how to pick 'em," I muttered to myself.

Oz ignored me, walking towards the trailer. He knocked on the door. A small wizened person, I couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman or whatever, came to the door and held it open.

Oz turned back to me. "Xand?" he said.

Xand. Sweet God, he called me Xand. I think I was falling for him. No, damn it, be nonchalant. Please. For God's sake, don't react. I looked over there, not taking off my sunglasses. "Yeah?"

Oz smiled that smile to me again. Sweet God, what was it about him? "Can you stay here? I'll be back in like ten minutes."

I shrugged. Play it cool, Alexander LaVelle Harris. Play it fucking cool. "Sure."


He took more than ten minutes. The sun slowly settled into a gorgeous desert sunset, all pinks and oranges and reds, highlighting the sky like a painting, like a portrait of nature's bounty, or whatever the fuck they'd put on postcards. The stars twinkled in the sky, and I swore I saw shooting stars. I made a wish.

Of course I made a wish. I wished I was dreaming. That I wasn't dreaming. That everything I was thinking and feeling made sense of just being a jumble in my brain. I mean, Oz? C'mon, he's a guy and I'm a guy and I never thought that way about a guy. Okay, yeah, when Larry came out to me it set me wondering, but no way, man, I'm straight Xander. Really.

But here I was, sitting by my car, waiting for this guy to get out of that rinky dink trailer, watching the moon rise, the large fat full...

Full moon.

Oh fuck.

I rushed to the trailer, knocking on the door. "Oz! Oz c'mon man, don't do this, we gotta get going and lock you up. For fuck's sake man, don't do this..." Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck he's going wolf on my ass and I'm gonna get killed out here in the fucking desert where no one knows I am and no one's gonna look for me.

Jesus fucking christ Oz open the fucking door be human and open the fucking door....

I couldn't stop it. I ran. I ran to my car and I got in and I was about to drive, when something caught my eye, something in the moonlight caught my eye.

It was Oz. It was Oz naked in the moonlight, Oz naked and human in the moonlight, bathed in the silvery white glow and just standing there, looking up at the moon, tears sparkling on his cheeks.

I got out of the car, transfixed. He saw me, his eyes catching mine, arresting mine, his eyes were of a wolf and they had me in their trap.

Oh fuck, Xander Harris, you've really screwed up now you're fucked, trapped by a werewolf who's not a werewolf with fucking amazing eyes and he's naked in the moonlight - the fucking moonlight and oh sweet Jesus save me from myself.

And I walked to him and he held out his arms and I kissed him. I couldn't stop myself, I couldn't help myself, I kissed him and I felt like there was nothing else in the world but the man in my arms. The man. Not the wolf.

And I felt his cock hard against me and I knew mine was hard to and I had to do something I had to let him have me. It didn't matter that he was shorter, it didn't matter that he was a man, it didn't matter that he was Oz. I was his. I was his forever.

His hands slid across my body removing my clothing, baring my body to the air, the cool night desert air, the heat rising from the ground. I was naked and he was naked and he was slowly setting me down, slowly putting me on the ground, against the dust, against the hard soil, where there wasn't any rocks or cactus or even a single blade of grass, just firm soil and dust.

And oh jesus his hands were warm, his hands were warm and slick and I didn't know what he was using but oh god it felt so good against me and then he was inside me his fingers pressing in me. I arched my back, groaning, wanting to feel him, wanting to *be* him.

And he was inside me, my legs up against his chest, my ankles near his head and I never stretched like that but I was now and I felt him inside me and oh fuck it was GOOD. He kissed me and he made me his forever and ever and the dust was around me and surrounding me and we were together in this desert land fucking raw like coyotes like wolves like primal beasts in the moonlight.

He howled when he came, sweet Jesus he howled like a wolf, and I knew that was the sound I had heard in my dreams, heard in my dreams ever since I first met him, and I knew that I could never leave him, never leave him after tonight. He was mine. And I was his. And I came, I came all over my chest and all over him, smearing the dust as I cried out his name as I cried out wordless cries of love of lust of night creatures howling for their mates.


We slept. We slept in the dust, never bothered by the insects, by the spiders, by the scorpions. We slept and in the morning, when the sun first peeked over the mountains, I woke up and felt his head on my chest. Felt his head on my chest and it felt right. For the first time, it felt right.

I woke him. I had to know what happened. I had to rationalize it somehow. "Oz?" I said, my throat cracking from dehydration, from dust, from screaming.

He stirred. "Xander?" he said, his voice concerned. "Are you okay?" He slowly sat up.

I stretched slightly, checking all my joints. "A little sore, but yeah..." I paused, trying to find the words. "Um...what the fuck happened last night?"

Oz turned back to me, his face serene, like the wizened old man I saw in the trailer, like the portraits of Buddha or of the saints. "It's over."


"The werewolf curse."

I blinked. I may have just experienced something truly mind-blowing and impossible to ever describe again, but I have to have my doubts that a good fuck can take away a curse. "Huh?"

Oz turned to me. "The only way to break the curse was to be in the right place..." He gestured at the small trailer and the dust we were sitting in. "At the right time..." He waved his hand to the sky, now glaring bright with the morning sun. "With...the right person..." And he looked at me with those big green eyes, looked at me, leaned in, and kissed me.

I returned the kiss, but then pulled back, staring at him in shock. "You mean it's done? It's over? No more monthly werewolf problems?"

He nodded. "I feel...different, Xander. I know it's gone." He stood and looked towards the valley below us, towards the small houses and farmland, where the day was just beginning. "It's a beginning," he said softly.

I stood next to him, wrapping my arm around him. "For both of us," I replied.