There's this dream Xander's having, and it's a doozy.
A no-more pineapple soda and port wine cheese before
bed kind of doozy, as a matter of fact.
It starts out normal, just him on the couch with some
buds watching TV. Commercial comes on and Xander
goes into witty commentator mode, which makes Jar
Jar start giggling and flopping his leathery ears. Oh
yeah, that was a good one. He makes proper note of
the timing and wording he'd used, but then he realizes
that he's actually writing it down, which is anything
Which is patently obvious because Yoda is sitting
cross-legged on top of his TV, giving him the Look. He's
a bad, bad Padawan who'll never ever ever never be no
good, all right.
"You must learn from your experiences, Xander. Else
all is lost."
And yep, Obi-Wan who is also Oz has arrived, but
putting the braid on him just makes him look really,
Xander considers himself open-minded, though, so he
goes with it.
"What's my lesson of the day, Ozzy-Wan?"
That gem makes Jar Jar laughs so hard he winds up
whanging Xander in the face with his ears multiple
times. Like being smacked with somebody's leather
vest which just reminds him of every night that
wasn't Ladies' Nite back at Rock Solid.
Lots of leather in the audience those nights. Aging
investment bankers and slumming frightened frat
boys tricked out in creaky black and embarrassed
Still looking better than Xander, though, because
dear God, he's doing that number. Rock's
punishment for Xander's only giving one week's
notice. His last night at the club and Rock had spent
the whole week fixing Xander up right. Even threw
in some roughly choreographed new steps, because
Xander was going out In Style.
And then he's on stage, tossed, literally, out there
by a Rock who suddenly has Greek letters tattooed
on his chest and big, mean smile. It's a touchstone to
the reality that isn't there, but all that means is that
Xander will know he's stuck in the fucked up world
of his own subconscious until (if) he wakes up.
He's all glittery. The lights make him sparkle at the
whole damned room, lots of little rays of sparkle that
start to dance even as he watches. Only it's not the
rays so much as it's him, 'cause it hadn't take him
long to learn how to move his ass for the crowd.
Jar Jar seemed to be the official leatherdaddy of the
evening, complete with hat and bushy black mustache.
The rest of the people in the club were just wet eyes
and tightly glistening mouths, never blinking, never
speaking, just watching and watching and watching
him glitter and prowl and shake to something old and
He slithers and crawls over to the Obiwolf, fearlessly
running his beautiful painted fingernails over the
lengthening muzzle, over taut lips and between rows
of sharp, sharp teeth. It's like... it's like something
primitive and sacrificial between them, some apology
he can never really make now so instead Xander's on
his back and running his hands all over his chest and
It's good, really good. Even when he realizes that he's
already naked, g-string vanished. Nothing but the
vaguely shocking thatch of dark hair he's tugging at
and that's nowhere near enough to hide his rising
His nails are gold-green.
They look wonderful against his skin.
The music slows down as he works himself,
something about Major Tom being a junkie and
tinkling keyboards that are so right with the way he
shines to the ceiling. He knows he's breaking about a
million of Rock's rules but he just can't bring
himself to care, not when it's only a dream that he
has to be in anyway... He can make it up to him
somehow, he knows it, knows it where he shudders
And then they're all around him, the dewy eyes and
the leather and the absolute least scary thing he can
see is the barely recognizable Ozwolf leaning down
into his face. His whiskers tickle and scratch at
Xander's own whiskers sliding out from his spotted
muzzle as his pretty claws just barely avoid making
things ugly by making things even better and he can
laugh and writhe and twist himself into this new
shape, this newness of fur and bright hot sex and
Oz's paws fumble a bit but he still manages to smear
bright red lipstick across Xander's muzzle.
Cool, and slick-thick and just a little greasy and fuck
yeah it's just what he needs as the mouths fall on
him from above and eat him and use him and take
him and grow fat on Xander's moans and sharp
nipples and spurting cock and helpless, helpless
The moment of waking is brief and blessedly
Xander slides a bit away from the stickiness and
goes back to sleep.