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Ego Waters With a feral sounding growl, Oz threw the pillow across the room. The animalistic sound that emanated from him, made his frown deepen. Damn Devon! Damn him for always being able to strike just the right cords in him. No other person in the world could get him this worked up and angry. No matter how long Oz had been trying to shut down that part of him, it always came back to bite him in the ass...so to speak. Oz's train of thought was finally derailed when the sound of tapping came from his bedroom window. His eyebrows raised slightly in surprise as he looked through the dark in the general direction of his bedroom window. How many people in Sunnydale could actually make the climb from the ground to his second floor window? Though there was a porch hanging that he spent many nights on, just outside his window, it wouldn't be an easy assent from the ground. Opening the drawer in his nightstand, Oz pulled out a wooden cross and agilely made his way over to the window, carefully stepping over the strewn possessions of his that lay on the floor. With a slow and cautious hand, he reached out and pulled the curtains back. "Huh," was all that he said as he took in the crouched form of Buffy before his window. The light of the half moon was shining down on her, accenting the expanse of bare flesh. She was dressed only in a dark blue tank top with matching cotton shorts. Wondering what could have brought the Slayer to his window in the dead of night, practically naked, Oz unlatched his double windows and pulled them open. "Hey, Buffy," he said casually, as though they had just run into each other in the halls of school. Tossing the cross to the floor, Oz offered her his hand and helped her into his room. Once her feet were firmly planted on the carpeted floor, Buffy threw her arms around his neck, holding tightly to him. Slowly, Oz wrapped an arm around her and comfortingly stroked her back. "Hey, what's wrong," he asked with deep concern. Buffy burrowed her face deeply into the crevice between Oz's neck and shoulder, clinging wildly to him. She didn't answer his question, but Oz didn't press her, only using his hands to try and smooth the shivers out of her trembling body. Using one hand to continue to stroke her back, Oz cradled the back of her head and tried to urge her back a bit. Reluctantly, Buffy pulled back to let Oz look into her glossy, tear-filled eyes. With his own, he conveyed all of the questions he had for her. What had brought her to him in such a state? Why did she seem so scared? "I had the worst dream," she confided in him, gripping his shoulders tightly. Though her grip on him was almost bruising, Oz didn't pull away. In fact, he seemed to relax a bit when she told him the reason for her worry. With one arm still wrapped firmly around her waist, Oz lead her over to his bed. Together, they sat on the edge of his bed, Buffy sitting as close to him as she could get without actually melding into him. "Do you want to tell me about it?" he asked her as he guided her head down to his shoulder. He felt her shake her head ‘no'. "Just...I will tomorrow. But can I stay here...with you? I don't think I can be alone right now." Her voice wasn't the strong and proud one that he was used to, but more like that of a frightened child. His insides seemed to tighten a bit, as they did every time he heard that tremor in her voice. "Sure," he agreed. Buffy kicked off the house-slippers she had come over in and curled up on her side, holding out her arm for Oz to slip beneath. Laying back on the bed, Oz got himself situated, slipping his arm around her for her to pillow her head on. "It must have been pretty bad for you to come all the way over here in nothing but your pajamas. If that's what you'd call ‘em," Oz said, his breath ruffling Buffy's hair. She nodded against him, her arm tightening around his waist. "Willow's house is closer. Why didn't you just go over there?" he asked. It took Buffy a moment to answer, but Oz waited patiently to allow her to gather her bearings. "Willow's my best friend and I love her, but...." she trailed off for a moment. "...she's changed." Oz was silent for a long time, processing what the Slayer had said to him. "Yeah....I suppose she has," he finally admitted. Buffy shifted her position a bit so that her head was pillowed on his chest and she was looking up at him. "But you still love her?" she asked, almost hesitantly. "I'll always love her," Oz said, without hesitation. It was true. No matter how much she changed or how bad things became between the two of them, Oz doubted that he'd ever stop loving her. Even if the love they had changed along with her. For another long while they were silent, just enjoying the comfort that the other could give them. After a while, Oz allowed his eyes to slip shut, thinking that Buffy was already asleep. "Oz?" her questioning voice proved him wrong. "Yeah?" She waited a moment, seeming a bit uncertain of voicing the question on her mind. Finally she spoke. "Have you ever loved anyone else? Besides Willow, I mean," she quickly clarified. Oz was a bit surprised by her question. In all the time that the two of them had been spending together lately, Buffy had never asked him any questions about his past. Oz asked her a lot of questions, but mostly he just held her, his arms comforting the many fears away for just a small while. It was a comfortable relationship that didn't have to be tainted by the many complications that most boy-girl friendships held. It wasn't until earlier that night that anyone had ever questioned his intentions towards Buffy, or hers towards him. That was Devon for ya. "I've never loved anyone the way that I love Willow. It's different. More pure, I think," he told her in a quiet, reflective voice. "What was she like?" Buffy questioned him. "Who?" he questioned back, confused for a moment. "The other girl you loved," Buffy specified, smoothing her hand over Oz's bare chest. His hand covered hers to still it. Though he didn't have those types of feelings for Buffy, he was still a teenage boy with raging hormones. He was just better at hiding it than others. That done, he was able to focus on her question. He chewed on his lower lip, trying to think of a way to avoid the question. "Maybe we shouldn't talk about it, Buffy. I don't know how well you might take it," he said truthfully. "I want to know, Oz. I mean, it's not like I'm going to judge you or anything. I'm just curious about you," she said, in a sleepy voice, stretching out a little more and giving their bodies some breathing space between them. Oz considered his options, as he always did when he was faced with telling people the truth about himself. Some people just couldn't understand it. But, he trusted Buffy to still respect him afterwards. So, he told her, and as the words began falling from his lips, he slipped into the memories.
Devon's grip around Oz's neck tightened when he nearly tripped over an unseen tree root as the two of them stumbled down the beaten trail that lead down to the lake. Behind them they could hear the sounds of the party raging full force in and around Mike's summer cabin. Neither Oz nor Devon knew how their friend had managed to fanangle his parents into letting him have an unchaperoned party for his sixteenth birthday. Not that it really mattered, cuz he had, and here they were, three sheets to the wind and feeling fine. When they neared the shore of the lake, Oz, being the more sober of the two, veered them to the right so they wouldn't walk headlong into the cool water of Lake Richmond. "Can we....like....sit?" Devon asked after nearly causing them both to topple to the ground for the third time since they'd left the throng of the party. "Sure," Oz agreed, but a short ‘meep' sound came from him as he felt himself being pulled down. Devon had fallen back, sprawled on the sandy bank with Oz's slight frame draped across him. "Oz, man, I didn't know you cared so much," Devon slurred and burst out in a fit of giggles, his alcohol permeated breath brushing against Oz's ear. The feel of his friend's body shaking in laughter beneath him was enough to jar Oz out of whatever alcohol induced space-out he was having and he rolled away from the other boy. Pushing himself into a sitting position, Oz brushed at the sand that that was now covering his jean clad knee as he waited for Devon's laughter to subside. As his laughter tapered off, Devon clumsily pushed himself up. "Man, I'm so fucked up." Somehow, Oz refrained from making the ‘no shit' comment that always popped into his head when Devon drunkenly stated the obvious. "Hey!" Devon said excitedly, all of a sudden. A smile threatened to twitch its way onto Oz's face as the cartoon image of Devon with a light bulb above his head appeared to him. Oz filed that away in his mental rolodex as an idea for his sketch pad, the one that he never showed to Devon. "Do you got any weed?" Devon asked. "Yeah, cuz you so need more intoxicating substances flowing through your system," Oz quipped sarcastically, letting out a short laugh when he saw the crestfallen look on Devon's face. "Actually, my sack is in my back pack. We could go get it if you want." "Nah," Devon said with a sigh of disappointment and fell back again. "Too far." For a couple of moments the two boys remained quiet, Oz reflecting on a myriad of deep thoughts and Devon just spacing. Or thinking about sex, cuz that's what Devons do best. Pulling his knees up, Oz rested his elbows on them and stared out at the rippling water of the lake, his gaze catching the reflection of the full moon above. Tilting his head upwards, he stared at the glowing orb with a bittersweet sense of foreboding. A small shiver ran across his skin and he rubbed at his arms, trying to force down the goosebumps that had formed. Curiously, Oz turned and looked down at Devon. He was staring quietly up at the night sky. He had an oddly deep look on his face. As if he sensed Oz's eyes on him, Devon turned and looked up at him. He cocked his head to the side, and just studied his best friend for a moment, unconsciously running his tongue over his lower lip. If Oz was more expressive, he would have made some kind of...expression. While they looked at one another, flashes of the last few weeks passed through Oz's mind. Little looks that the two of them shared, the acceptable closeness becoming closer, sexual jokes that never seemed appropriate before. They were sixteen now and at a certain age people's senses of humor became more raw. Shaking his head as if to clear it, Devon broke their eye contact and pushed himself back up into a sitting position. Oz continued to watch him silently, raising one eyebrow as Devon clumsily tugged his shirt up and over his head. Barechested, Devon struggled to his feet, nearly falling over again, but steadying himself. Oz watched in confusion as his friend began undoing the fly of his jeans. "Uh, Dev. As much as I'm enjoying the strip tease, mind if I ask what you're doing?" he asked. "What does it look like, you queer? I'm getting naked," Devon answered and punctuated his meaning by dropping both his pants and boxers. Oz swallowed and fell back on his hands to avoid getting a face full of Devon-ass, though at that moment he couldn't remember why he was avoiding it. Faintly, Oz was aware of his mouth going dry as he watched his naked friend swagger over to the water's edge, completely comfortable in his own nudity. The water was barely up to his ankles before he turned back to Oz and raised his eyebrows questioningly. "You comin'?" he asked and turned away, wading in to his waist before diving in.
Oz waited until Devon was above water before he began tugging off his shirts. "You know, swimming while under the influence isn't entirely safe, Dev," he remarked as he stood and began undoing the fly to his pants. "Are you asking me if I give a fuck? Cuz I really don't," Devon said sarcastically. Now he was standing a little more than waist high in the water, skimming his hands over the surface of the water, watching (but pretending not to) Oz undress himself. When he got down to his boxers, Oz glanced around to double check that no one could see them, then hooked his thumbs into the waistband to drag his plaid boxers down his legs. Casually, as though he weren't bare-ass naked in the wide open, Oz walked down to the edge of the water, not even pausing to test it's coolness. Once the water was about up to his chest, Oz dunked his head under, wetting his hair and smoothing it back from his face. Wiping the water out of his eyes, Oz looked over to Devon and found him...not there. A second later something, that something of course being Devon, collided with Oz's legs, taking him down. Oz kicked out instinctively, wincing when he felt his foot connect with something soft. When he broke the surface, he found Devon already there, hunched over a bit. "Dude! You kicked me in the stomach! Not cooth." Oz chuckled a bit, but immediately regretted it, when Devon looked back at him with a preditorial glint in his eye. "Dev," he said calmly, holding his hands up in a truce as he backed away. Then Devon pounced with a large splash, holding Oz's head under water. The two boys wrestled in the water, for a few minutes, like real men do sometimes, but the alcohol they had consumed caused them to tire out quickly. Devon had Oz in a headlock when Oz finally said, "Uncle." "Bout time, you feisty, little fucker," Devon said and loosened his grip on Oz. As Oz straightened back up, he realized that ‘loosened' was the key word in that sentence, since Devon still had his arm wrapped around his neck, and now, with the two of them standing, he could feel the brush of Devon's warm chest against his cool back. Oz swayed drunkenly, unintentionally pressing himself closer to the man standing behind him, but when he tried to pull away he was stopped by Devon's arm tightening over his upper chest. "Dev?" Oz asked, turning his head a bit to look at his friend through the corner of his eye. "You're so warm," Devon said, his voice deeper and huskier than it usually was. "Why are you shivering?" "Um, I dunno," Oz said lamely, trying hard not to focus on Devon's fingers stroking slow circles on his upper arm. "Oz?" Devon asked, his mouth incredibly close to Oz's ear. "Do you feel that?" Devon rocked his hips, clarifying his meaning with the hardness that pressed into the small of Oz's back. "You're making me fucking hot, man." "Huh." "You ever mess around with another guy, Oz?" Devon asked, rocking his hips again. This time, Oz pushed back a bit, not even thinking about it, going on pure instinct. He shook his head ‘no' to the question, catching his lower lip between his teeth as he realized how weak his knees felt. "Do you think we could figure it out?" Devon asked with another, harder rock of his hips. "Dev....I think...you could figure out anything about sex out," Oz said, taking sharp breaths between his words. "I'll figure you out, you little punk," Devon said, in an almost teasing voice. Then his lips were on Oz's neck, suckling and nipping gently and experimentally, licking over the pulse point and making Oz hiss with a sudden, gripping lust. Oz pushed back against Devon, making him groan and send a long, warm breath over Oz's shoulder. Moving his arm further down, Devon wrapped his arm tightly around Oz's waist and hoisted him off his feet, the water making him almost as light as a feather. Pushing forward, Devon nestled his erection firmly between Oz's cheeks, scraping his teeth along the taut flesh over the other boy's neck. Biting his lip to keep from crying out, Oz reached back, blindly fumbling for something to hold onto. That something turned out to be Devon's hips, which he gripped tightly in his small hands. In a slow and steady rhythm, Devon began thrusting his hips against Oz, gaining dizzying friction which was slickened by the flow of water between their bodies. It wasn't long before Oz was pushing back against him in the same timing, his head lolled back against Devon's shoulder. As the pace began to pick up some momentum, Devon's moans of pleasure almost became too much for Oz to bear. "Dev?" he whimpered questioningly. His cock was achingly hard, but he didn't really know how to go about alleviating it. Devon seemed to take the hint, moving his free hand down over Oz's chest and torso, finally stopping to take a firm grasp on his hard-on. If Devon hadn't been holding him up, Oz probably would have sunk below the water and drowned. The feel of Devon's hand moving over his cock made his legs feel all gooey and his eyes roll into the back of his head. Devon began stroking in the same rhythm as his thrusting and soon both boys were tumbling over the edge into the sweet valley of a long, drawn-out orgasm. Devon's arms weakened and he let Oz slip from his grasp onto shaky legs. Leaning forward, he rested his cheek against Oz's shoulder, who was off in his own little, post-orgasm land. His head threatened to loll off his neck, and for a moment he believed he might just melt into the water, becoming just another slight wave to crash against the quiet shore of the small lake. He imagined seeping into the sandy banks, little tadpoles and crabs burrowing deeply into him to make a new home. Devon's voice was what brought him back down to his home-plain. "Dude, we, like, swing both ways now. Cool, huh?" "Looks like we figured it out, though. Or, I should say, you did. I was pretty lost there," Oz mumbled, twisting around in Devon's loose embrace. "Man, I was on auto-pilot. If you asked me now what I did, I sure as fuck couldn't tell ya," Devon murmured against Oz's clammy skin, jutting his tongue to lick a warm trail over his neck. "Um, let's get out. My toes are going numb," Oz said, finally finding the strength to stand on his own. "Just one more thing, man," Devon said. Oz looked up at him expectantly, his eyebrows raising a bit in surprise when Devon cupped his face and crouched down to place a sweet kiss on his lips. It was slow and sweet, almost chaste if you didn't consider what they'd just done only moments earlier. Oz was the one to break the kiss, closing his eyes and sucking his lips in, to taste what Devon had left there.
Oz broke from his reverie to realize that Buffy had drifted to sleep in his arms. The first light of dawn was just peeking in through his curtains and he brushed her hair away from her face, touching her cheek just barely. He liked seeing her sleep and knowing that he was able to drive away the nightmares that too often plagued her. He had been nervous about telling Buffy of his "other" relationship with Devon, but she had taken it surprisingly well. Almost too well, like she had already known. That was the weird thing about Buffy, she just seemed to get him. Which was good, because, otherwise there was no way he would have been able to tell her. As it was, he'd given her the edited for TV version as his mind strayed to the more pornographic parts of his first sexual experience. Sighing deeply, Oz shifted to make himself more comfortable. He was glad that he had told Buffy. For some reason, it lessened the anger he was feeling towards Devon right now. Still, remembering the tenderness that he'd shared with his best friend would never make him forget the grief that he could sometimes cause and that he hoped would never be inflicted upon Xander. Only time could tell. |
