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
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
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
"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
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
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
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
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
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."
"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.