"...bo-bander, banana-nana-fo-fander, me-mi-mo-mander --"
Yeah, so Xander was singing to himself. He happened to like all the different sounds
of his name. He had a fun name. Not too many people going by Xander. Nope, not
too many at all. Xander Harris was one unique pup.
Or so he likes to think. (And we like to encourage feelings of self-worth in Xander,
so we don't object. How could we, anyway?)
So he was singing to himself, stretched out on the bed, when the bathroom door
opened and who happened to come out? None other than Xander's favorite
Oh, yes, Oz. Wrapped in nothing but a cloud of steam and a leopard-print towel.
Xander sat right up on the bed, mesmerized by the disco ball effect of the
droplets of water on Oz's chest.
Well, to be honest, he was even more mesmerized by Oz's chest. To hell with the
water, though that certainly didn't hinder things. And by things, it is meant the
timely rising of Xander's cock to the occasion.
Oz stared down at him, a smile quirking his face. Oz, being the slut-bunny that he
is (and a fabulous one, to boot), knew exactly what was making Xander's left eye
twitch, so he ran one hand over his oh-so-deliciously-formed chest, rubbing the
water around. "Have you been singing again?"
Xander nodded, scootching up to lean against the headboard. "Yep."
"Having fun?" Oz scratched at his hip a bit, intentionally making the towel slip
just a fraction of an inch.
Xander licked his lips, fixated on the spot where the towel tucked into itself.
"Oh." Oz smiled, an evil smile perfectly befitting the tasty little werewolf. "So I
guess you're all funned-out. I know how exhausted you get singing..."
"Nope! See, this is me, wide-awake! Oozing energy, in fact," Xander spit out in a
rush. "Plenty of fun yet to be had...Right?"
Oz cocked his head, narrowed his eyes, and directed his attention to the very
prominent bulge in Xander's jeans. "Oozing, huh?"
Xander pretty much knew he was home free then, so he folded his arms behind his
head and winked, in that cute little way that only Xander-type people can really
manage. In a way that said, "Come get me, you slut-bunny, you."
And wouldn't you know, Oz did just that. In a slow, Oz-like way, of course. Leopard
print towels are nice and all, but that one wound up discarded on the floor like one
of Xander's candy wrappers, and Oz stood there wearing nothing but a 'Happy
Birthday, Mr. President' grin.
And let me assure you, his hand was not where it was due to modesty.
Xander was just about drooling. No, strike that, he was drooling. And unbuttoning
the front of his jeans. And then he was frantically searching the rumpled sheets
on the bed for the bottle of lube they'd tossed aside the night before.
Finding it, he looked up with a proud smile, just in time to be jumped. Oz pounced
(since werewolves will do that, you know), and knocked Xander flat on his back.
"Why, Xander," he said, looking at the bottle in mock confusion, "did you think you
were about to get laid?"
Xander growled and snaked his arm up around Oz's neck, pulling the smaller man
down for a long kiss. His tongue scraped across the ridges of Oz's teeth, and he
shivered, pulling away. "You know you want me and luscious bod."
Oz pursed his lips and moved quickly, straddling Xander's stomach and pinning his
arms against his torso. Sighing as if it were a chore, he slowly cracked each
knuckle on his left hand, one at a time, then did the same to the other hand before
grasping the bottle of lube. "Xander, Xander, Xander," he murmured, shaking his
head and pouring a good amount into one palm. He dipped one finger into the pool
and dabbed a spot on Xander's nose before grasping his cock, his motions
intentionally slow and sensual. "Who's your little slut-bunny?"
Xander groaned, or at least attempted to. He really let out some strangled gasp
that could only be a distant cousin to a groan. In fact, he pretty much whimpered.
Like a girl. But oh well. He's Xander, and it was a cute whimper. "Come on, Xander,"
Oz urged, wriggling a bit on top of him. "You can say it.
Xander couldn't tear his eyes off of what he considered to be a magnificent
specimen of penis. "You are," he squeaked. "You're my little slut-bunny, Oz."
"Good boy." Oz smiled and swung one leg over Xander's body, freeing him to squirm
all the way out of his jeans and yank his t-shirt over his head. Naked, Xander
stretched out on his back in front of Oz and spread his legs, eager for some
Oz came through, reliable little slut-bunny that he is. Letting go of his well-oiled
cock, he reached down with two slicked fingers and teased the curve of Xander's
cute little ass, inching his way along until he eased one finger into the warm
opening. Xander gasped a little (a real gasp, not a whimper), and clenched his
muscles around Oz's finger, then slowly relaxed so Oz could slip a second in.
Rather pleased with the way Xander's breath quickened, Oz decided to take a little
pity on him and get things going. Withdrawing his fingers, he scooped Xander's legs
up and bent them up as he lowered himself against Xander. He poked around a bit,
teasing some more while he planted tiny kisses on Xander's amazingly sweaty
chest. Xander, meanwhile, was chewing his lip, waiting for that first playful nudge
he knew to expect from Oz.
Again, Oz didn't disappoint, slipping the head of his cock inside Xander. Pulling out a
bit, he found Xander's lips and eased into a slow kiss, his tongue sweeping every
curve of Xander's mouth before he thrust again, burying his dick. Xander just
about choked, then turned his face away and concentrated on breathing. That
seemed like the thing to do, since it would be a shame to asphyxiate and never get
to be molested by Oz again. Nope, strangling definitely would not do.
Oz let Xander's legs fall from his grasp, so they spread further and lowered a bit,
and he slid his hands across Xander's slippery belly. Xander jerked slightly when Oz
took his cock in one hand, running his thumb over the tip. As it turns out,
slut-bunnies are amazingly skilled at jerking their lust-muffins off, so in no time at
all, Xander had groaned (a real groan this time) and come, and Oz followed shortly
So now the remaining question is, what do slut-bunnies and lust-muffins do after
They sing in the shower, then dry off with leopard-print towels.