Title: Once is an Accident (Twice is Something Else)
Author: Mireille (mireille719)
Fandom: BtVS
Pairing: Giles/Wesley/Xander; mention of (past) Xander/Anya.
Rating: FRAO. Or possibly P for Porn.
Summary: Wesley comes back to town.
Word Count: 12,100 (overall)
Disclaimer: Joss and ME own them. I don't, and I think I should hose them off before I return them.
Feedback/Concrit: Both welcome, either here or at mireille719 {at} gmail {dot} com
Notes: About two years ago, I wrote a story called "Best. Game. Ever." which is, honestly, pure crack!porn. At the time, lostgirlslair hoped for a sequel, in which Wesley came back to Sunnydale. This is what happened. (Sorry for making you wait so long, hon--hope you like it!) If you are expecting anything other than porn in this story, you will be disappointed. You don't need to have read that story; all you need to know is this: in a slightly alternative version of S5, Giles, Wesley, and Xander had a LOT of sex under improbable circumstances.

Thanks to soft_princess for letting me show her the smutty bits early, and for cheerleading. Thanks to lostgirlslair for cheerleading and for beta-reading. All mistakes are probably because I didn't listen to her.
WARNINGS: Threesome PWP in which there is an implausible amount of sex. References to mildly kinky het (toys), but it doesn't actually appear in the story.

He wasn't avoiding Giles. It was purely a coincidence that in the more than five weeks since That Afternoon, he and Giles hadn't been alone in a room. And he hadn't made an effort to change that, because while he was sure there was a right thing to say to a guy you'd just had sex with, Xander had absolutely no idea what that would be. Let alone what you said to a guy you had had sex with--with another guy--almost six weeks ago.

Anya, on the other hand, he had definitely been avoiding. If they'd made up, he'd feel like he had to tell her about what had happened, and he didn't think he could do it. By now, he was pretty sure they were broken up for good, and just as sure he should tell her that it wasn't completely because she'd told him she never wanted to see him again. But if he could tell her that, he wouldn't have been avoiding her in the first place.

He'd seen Giles since then, usually at the magic shop, and usually only when everybody was there. Like today, when he'd waited around outside for Willow and Tara to show up, so he could walk in with them, and then tried to be the first one to leave.

"Tried" was the important word there, unfortunately, because he knocked over a display as he hurried toward the door. And, of course, it was a table that had had a tray of crystals on it, and it took forever to get them sorted out and into what he hoped were the right places. Rose quartz he was pretty sure of, since it was pink, and he knew what hematite looked like, but some of the stuff he was just guessing about.

When he stood up with the last handful of crystals, Giles was standing a couple of feet away, swapping some of the labels on the crystals he'd sorted. He must have guessed wrong.

It was okay that Giles was there, though, because Xander wasn't avoiding him. Not really. "Sorry," Xander muttered, and that was the first thing he'd said directly to Giles, and not to a group of people that just happened to include Giles, in five weeks and five days.

Purely by coincidence, of course, and not because every time he tried to, he couldn't figure out whether he was supposed to pretend nothing had happened, like he just suddenly found himself in bed with two other people of the male persuasion all the time, or if he was supposed to... he didn't even know what the other option would be. It didn't matter, though, because that wasn't why he hadn't been talking to Giles.

"It's all right," Giles said. "Accidents happen."

Which Xander couldn't help but take to mean a lot more than just "it's okay that you knocked over the stupid crystals," even if that probably wasn't what Giles meant. Especially since he was giving Xander a kind of hesitant smile, the same one he'd been giving Xander for the past few weeks, and saying, "I, er, heard from Wesley yesterday."

"Yeah?" Xander said. He didn't know what to say to that, either, not really. He hadn't heard from Wesley, which might have just been because Wesley didn't have his phone number, but could also have been because Wesley was interested in talking to Giles and not to him. He didn't know, and he didn't know the right way to ask.

"He's going to be here this weekend," Giles went on. He cleared his throat again, and Xander thought Giles wasn't looking him in the eye. He couldn't be sure; he was too busy not actually looking Giles in the eye. "Tomorrow evening, in fact, at about six o'clock. He... er... wanted me to be sure to tell you." Now Xander was sure Giles wasn't looking him in the eye. "I didn't know how to tell him that you and I hadn't actually seen much of one another lately."

Xander frowned slightly. So Wesley, at least, had expected him and Giles to be talking about this? That was... weird. Not what he'd have expected.

Not that he really knew what to expect from people any more. He shrugged. "Okay. You told me. Thanks."

"We'd like to see you," Giles said softly. "Will you be free?"

Xander stopped to think about that for a second. After work, unless all hell broke loose and Giles found himself hosting an all-night research party, Xander would be going home to reruns of something on TV, dinner by Domino's, and probably an early night. It was amazing how "life as a real grown-up with his own apartment" wasn't much different than "life as a loser living in his parents' basement." And if he was going to be honest, the early night would be more like an early retreat to his bedroom, where he'd replay every second of that Saturday afternoon with his hand wrapped around his dick. Because, if he was going to continue being honest with himself--and he might as well, because he'd know if he was lying, wouldn’t he?--he'd spent a lot of time in these past forty days thinking about that Saturday afternoon.

Thinking about Giles. Which was not, strictly speaking, a new thing. The new part was where he was admitting it. But also about Wesley, and about both Giles and Wesley at the same time, and all of that? That was a new concept. Practically mint in box.

"I," he began finally, realizing that Giles was still waiting for an answer. Then he ran out of steam; he closed his mouth, waiting for inspiration to strike.

"We'd like it very much if you were," Giles said again, and how was Xander supposed to do the smart thing and say "no" when Giles was looking at him like that? "Wesley will be here all weekend, if you've already made plans for Friday, but we were hoping--"

"Yeah," he blurted out suddenly, surprised at the sound of his own voice. "Yeah, I think I can... not right at six. I won't get off work until five, and we're on a site out of town, so by the time I get home and, you know, change, and...."

"Whenever you can make it," Giles said. "If it's late, or if we don't hear you knocking, just let yourself in."

Xander was about to ask how, in an apartment the size of Giles', it was possible to not hear the knocking when he realized that there had been an afternoon almost six weeks ago when he probably wouldn't have heard a nuclear bomb going off in the backyard.

"Okay," he said. "Tomorrow night, after work. I'll be there." He forced a grin. Or maybe he forced forcing a grin, because right alongside the part of him that was yelling, Oh, shit, oh, shit, bad idea! Danger, Will Robinson!, was a part that was doing the Snoopy dance.

His brain, he thought, as he turned and did something far more manly than flee the Magic Box before he could embarrass himself any further, was a deeply strange and scary place. He should probably get someone to look at that, one of these days.

Xander stood outside the apartment for a long time; a lot longer, he had to admit, than was really smart to do after dark in a town as vampire-heavy as Sunnydale. He didn't have much choice, though. He had to decide whether or not he even wanted to be there.

He'd said he was going to be. He'd told Giles he'd come by right after work. But he had a right to change his mind about an invitation like this, an invitation that included a least a promise of sex. With Giles, who used to be his high school librarian, and Wesley, who used to be... well, Wesley. Never mind that he'd been a lot less Wesley-like the last time.

And never mind that Xander was already here, pacing up and down the short sidewalk that led to Giles' apartment. That was just... he'd just gone out for a drive, and this was where he'd wound up. It didn't have to mean that he was considering Giles' offer. It didn't even have to mean that he'd been walking around with a hard-on for most of the past twenty-four hours, remembering what had happened six weeks ago, and wondering what might happen if he came over here tonight.

There'd been a lot of things he'd wanted to try, but Wesley had had to leave, and Xander hadn't been able to convince himself that Giles would want him around once Wesley had gone. But Wesley was going to be in Sunnydale the whole weekend, from what Giles had said. They'd have two days, give or take a few hours. Unless Giles had meant that they only wanted Xander here tonight... but it hadn't sounded like that. It had sounded like the invitation to Xander extended over the whole weekend, too.

If Xander decided to take him up on it, that was.

What the hell, he thought finally. There wasn't any reason for him not to and it was practically against the Guy Code to turn down what you were pretty sure was an offer of sex with people you thought were hot. Even if you were going to pretend that you hadn't just thought that.

"Just let yourself in," Giles had said, and so Xander turned the knob and opened the door without knocking.

"Hey, I'm here," he called. "Better late than--" Then he broke off, chewing his lower lip.

He'd kind of expected that Giles and Wesley would have started without him. That had actually been okay with him; on his lunch break today, he'd built up this whole scenario in his head where he stood at the top of the stairs and watched them for a while before they realized he was there, and it was definitely okay. It was the kind of "okay" that, in Xander's experience, never happened to anyone who wasn't in a porn movie, but he'd have been willing to cope with being the first.

But they were both still on the couch, Wesley's back against Giles' chest as he pored over an oversized book. As Xander came closer, he could see that Giles' hands were on Wesley's shoulders, working the knots out of them as Wesley read. They looked... comfortable, he supposed, was a good word. They looked comfortable, and content, and kind of couple-y, and Xander didn't like it at all.

No, he wouldn't have minded if they'd started without him, but this was different. This was like a giant neon sign flashing "They're Doing Just Fine Without You," and Xander decided that he should probably just go.

But he'd made a lot of noise when he came in, and Wesley raised his head, turning to look at him and smiling.

"And you said you didn't think he was coming," Wesley murmured to Giles. "I knew I should have suggested a small wager."

"I can--I mean, if you guys were hoping I wouldn't..." Xander said. Wesley had looked happy to see him, but Giles hadn't really looked at him since he'd walked in, and it was Giles' place. And Wesley probably wouldn't be interested if Giles wasn't, and yeah, he should have just rented a couple of movies and gone home after work, because at least then he got to skip the rejection.

"Rupert did tell you I'd hoped you'd stop in?" Wesley said.

"Um," Xander said. "Yeah. He said. But if this is a bad time, I can--"

That was when Giles looked up at him, smiling warmly. "It's not a bad time, Xander," he said. "I'm glad you decided to come."

And suddenly, so was Xander. He came further into the room, and both Giles and Wesley straightened up on the couch, making room for him next to Wesley. Xander sat down, feeling like his posture was really stiff but not sure if he could relax at this point.

Wesley set his book aside, which did go some way toward making Xander feel better. After all, he'd looked perfectly happy to be absorbed in a book while it was just him and Giles. "Rupert's library far surpasses mine at this point," he said, nodding toward the book. "That may only be the official reason why I came here, but it wasn't entirely fabricated."

Xander couldn't think of anything to say, so he just nodded. Oh, this was a bad idea. A very, very bad idea.

There was silence in the room for several seconds before Giles muttered, "Oh, tell me we won't have to resort to ridiculous parlor games to break the ice this time."

And miraculously, it felt perfectly natural to turn to him, grinning, and say, "I don't know. I could go for a game of Pictionary right now. I'd say Charades, but I'm not good at eighteen-word book titles in Latin, so you two would probably kick my ass."

Giles blinked at him for a second; then Wesley started laughing, and so did Giles, and by the time Xander had joined in, this all felt a little more natural. A little more like it had the last time, even for Xander, who'd been mostly sober.

And that seemed to get things--well, there was no way Xander was going to say "back to normal." Nothing about this was even in the remote general neighborhood of "normal." But it got things back to a point where they felt comfortable, at least.

Giles asked Xander a question about work--he was really liking this summer construction job; maybe when it ended, he'd look for something else like it--and Xander was halfway through a story about the corporate client who kept hiring new architects to redesign the building partway through construction when he realized that he wouldn't have expected Giles to know anything about that. He hadn't said anything to Giles about it. He had said things to other people while Giles was in the room, though, which meant that Giles was paying attention. To him.

The realization threw him enough that he couldn't pinpoint the exact moment when Wesley's hand settled on his thigh. That would have been more troubling if he'd actually minded, but he didn't. Oh, no, he so didn't.

"I, uh," Xander began, wanting to keep talking, wanting to not let things lapse back into the uncomfortable silence. "How was the drive?"

Wesley chuckled. "Too long," he said. "I found myself rather impatient to get here."

"Yeah," Xander said. "I get that." Of course he got that. Wesley wanted to be in Sunnydale with Giles, was probably even looking forward to having Xander around tonight, because he'd seemed to like the sex last time as much as Xander had. Wesley wasn't the one who'd stood around outside like an idiot, wondering if he was doing the right thing or not. Wesley knew what he was doing.

Wesley turned around to look at Giles for a moment. Xander wondered what they were feeling the need to give each other Significant Looks about, and wished they wouldn't. That kind of thing was calculated to make the other person in the room feel like a fifth wheel. But then Wesley turned back to him, and the hand that wasn't burning its way through the leg of Xander's jeans came up to caress his cheek. Xander turned into the touch, purely by reflex, and Wesley rubbed his thumb over Xander's bottom lip.

"I wonder," Wesley murmured, "if you really do."

And then Wesley was kissing him, unexpectedly enough--at least if you were Xander, which he was still fairly sure he was--that Xander's eyes stayed open at first. And the part of him that wasn't preoccupied with processing what Wesley was doing to him pointed out that Giles was watching them; he was smiling, a small smile of approval that did strange and not entirely comfortable things to the pit of Xander's stomach, and that was the only thing that kept Xander from feeling totally guilty.

Xander was kissing Giles' boyfriend right in front of him, but Giles was okay with it, so it didn't matter. On the other hand, Xander still hadn't worked out whether or not he was okay with it.

On a deeper, moral and ethical level, at least. On a purely physical level, the only thing he hadn't worked out was exactly when the hell Wesley Wyndam-Pryce had learned to kiss like that: hot and messy and dirty, his tongue exploring every inch of Xander's mouth and his hand in Xander's hair, and his other hand steadily sliding up Xander's thigh towards his now slightly-strained zipper.

Xander opened his eyes again when he felt Giles' weight shifting on the couch. He'd moved closer to them, his arms wrapped around Wesley's waist and his mouth pressed against the back of Wesley's neck.

And that was when Xander stopped feeling even a little guilty. Giles wanted this, just as much as Xander did, just as much as Wesley obviously did, and so all Xander had to do was go along with it. It might not be what he really wanted, but it was close enough. As close as he was going to get, anyway.

Wesley's hand slid up to Xander's crotch now, and Xander's hips jerked forward involuntarily, seeking more contact. Wesley chuckled again, squeezing lightly, and Xander groaned into his mouth.

"I think," Giles murmured from behind Wesley, "that we might want to move this upstairs for a while."

Upstairs. The only thing upstairs was Giles' bedroom, and that sounded like a very good idea as far as Xander was concerned. He nodded enthusiastically, and Wesley laughed again, pulling away from him. Wesley's face was flushed, his eyes bright, and Xander felt a little... he supposed "triumphant" was the word. Yeah. Definitely. He might only be here to liven things up a little between Giles and Wesley, but still, he didn't have to wonder whether or not they wanted him.

Xander got up, following Giles up the stairs, Wesley right behind them. Once he was in the bedroom, though, he hesitated, not sure exactly what to do next--whether to sit down on the bed, or wait for an invitation, or what.

Then he realized that Wesley was unbuttoning his shirt, and Giles' pants were down around his ankles, and whatever it was that was happening next, it involved being naked.

Okay, then. Xander was reasonably sure that he'd be able to undress himself without a disaster. He peeled off his shirt quickly, then kicked off his shoes while he reached for the button on his jeans. He stopped there, though, his attention drawn when Giles turned around to face him after having tossed his clothes on top of the dresser in a small pile.

Xander had been kind of overwhelmed last time. He hadn't thought to ask for anything, had just been okay with going along with the ideas the other two had had. But now--he didn't know if this was ever going to happen again. He wouldn't have thought it was going to happen now, if you'd asked him yesterday.

And now, Xander wasn't going to take the chance that this wouldn't happen again, not without asking for something he'd been wanting for... God. For a lot longer than he really wanted to think about. "Can I," he began hesitantly. "Giles. I want to. Um." He took a deep breath, because really, being embarrassed in front of the people you were trying to have a threesome with was dumb. "I want you in my mouth."

"What do you think?" Giles said, looking over at Wesley with--yes, that was definitely a smirk. "Shall we start with that?"

Wesley had already finished undressing, was stretched out on the bed like this was perfectly ordinary, like he'd spent every weekend since he left Sunnydale having gay-porn-movie sex. And Xander really, really didn't want to think about that, considering what he knew about where Wesley spent most of his time. Not if he didn't want his erection to disappear forever. Better to focus on what Wesley was saying. "I'd certainly like to see it," he said, smiling.

Xander gulped. It wasn't like he'd actually done this before; he wondered if Giles knew that. Still, maybe enthusiasm would count for a lot.

Giles sat down on the edge of the bed, legs splayed, and this time, when Xander swallowed hard, it wasn't from nerves. He finished getting his jeans off and dropped to his knees in front of Giles, licking his lips. He looked up at Giles, taking a deep breath and trying to reassure himself that this was going to be okay.

Of course it was going to be okay, he told himself firmly. And it wasn't like he was freaking out about it. He wanted to do this--oh, God, yeah. He wanted to do this. He wanted everything.

But he also wanted to be good at it. The last time had been incredible--and maybe that was a weak word since he'd woken up night after night since then, hard and aching from the memories and with his hand already on his cock. And... well, he wasn't exactly deluded about what was going on here. He'd seen Giles and Wesley when he'd come in here tonight.

This was Giles-and-Wesley with a side of Xander. He was okay with that. Completely okay. This was just... fun. New fun that was giving him lots of stuff to think about, but fun. And it'd be over one of these days, and he'd be okay with that, too.

But if he was good at this, then it might last a little longer.

Giles smiled down at him, and Xander grinned back before leaning in, placing soft kisses along Giles' thigh, moving slowly and steadily higher. Giles' breath hitched, and Xander sucked softly at the skin under his lips, listening to the changes in Giles' breathing that let him know that yeah, he was getting this right.

He glanced up again to see that Wesley had sat up on the bed, his arms wrapped around Giles as he kissed Giles' neck, moving slowly up to his ear. Xander grinned to himself, liking the feeling that he and Wesley were working as a team to drive Giles out of his mind.

Then he stopped watching Wesley and turned his attention back to what he was doing, wrapping his hand around the base of Giles' cock before bending down to lick the head, encouraged by the quiet groan he heard from Giles. He tried another experimental lick, and Giles groaned again.

"You're teasing him," Wesley murmured, sounding amused. And maybe Xander was, at that--and maybe it was a good idea, because it wasn't just Giles' breathing that was sounding ragged. When he looked up again, Wesley's eyes were on him, heat flickering in the blue, and Xander almost forgot what he was doing.

Almost, but not quite, because there was no way he was going to forget about this. There was no way he was going to let himself be distracted from any of it: from the sounds Giles was making as Xander took him into his mouth; from the clean, musky scent of him; from the warm, heavy weight of Giles against his tongue. Xander began to suck, figuring that trying what he liked would at least be a place to start.

And, oh, God, Giles liked it when Xander took him in deeper, his tongue working along the underside of Giles' cock, at least if the hands clutching at his shoulders were any indication. Xander tried sucking harder, rewarded by a breathy "That's good, Xander, God...."

He looked up again at Wesley, who was kissing Giles' neck and shoulders and whispering something in Giles' ear that made him groan and his hips jerk forward a little. Xander coughed and spluttered, pulling back until he caught his breath, and that was when he noticed that Wesley's hand was moving on his own cock with lazy strokes.

He was never going to catch his breath again. Air was totally overrated anyway, because Xander's cock was almost painfully hard and leaking against his stomach, and Giles was gasping and moaning as Xander began to suck again, and he couldn't look away from the slow, deliberate motions of Wesley's hand.

When Giles pulled back from Xander and came, sticky and hot on his stomach and Xander's cheek, Xander was almost sorry it was over, even if his jaw had begun to ache.

Two months ago, if you'd told Xander that he'd be leaning comfortably against Wesley's shoulder, feeling somewhat smug, while Giles took a shower after Xander had given him a blow job, Xander would have thought you were on some really good drugs.

Maybe he was on some really good drugs, come to think of it. It would be a more logical explanation for this weekend than that he'd suddenly become some kind of sex god. And besides, it would explain the sudden turn to the uncomfortable that the conversation suddenly took.

"You mean to tell me that nothing at all happened while I was in Los Angeles?" Wesley asked, and Xander had to be hearing things wrong, because he sounded disappointed.

"We met Dracula," Xander said.

"That isn't exactly what I meant." Xander knew that, but what was he supposed to do, explain to Wesley all about the needing to find something cool to say? This was Wesley, and even though Xander liked him a lot more than he used to, he wasn't sure Wesley understood the word "cool." Which was okay, because Giles didn't either, really, and so obviously, Xander just had a thing for the seriously uncool.

Wesley let it go, going back to playing with the hair at the back of Xander's neck, fingers ghosting over the skin and making Xander shiver. He hated to spoil the moment, but there was something he needed to know, needed to be able to ask Wesley without Giles there. He didn't want to hear what Wes thought would make Giles happy. "Um," he said, and then, when Wesley looked down at him expectantly, managed to go on. "You're okay with me being here all weekend, right? Because Giles said--but if you want some alone-time with him, I totally get it."

"I wanted time with both of you," Wesley pointed out, which was flattering, but not really the point.

"And I'm here, aren't I?" Xander said. "I just--I mean, this is fun, and all, but I'm pretty sure we're not capable of having sex twenty-four/seven, and if you guys want some couple-time without me..." He trailed off when he realized Wesley was staring at him.

"Xander, what are you talking about?"

Okay, he was going back to his opinion of two years ago, when he thought Wesley wasn't all that bright, because how obvious did he have to be? Obvious enough that it hurt to say it, apparently, and damn it, maybe he should just go now.

He didn't go. He took a deep breath and tried to spell it out in very small words. "I'm glad I'm here," he said. "But I know you don't get a lot of time with Giles, and I don't want you guys to spend so much time with a, um, a fling, or whatever, that you don't get to be together." Because this was what Giles wanted, and Xander was going to do the right thing and say that he was okay with anything that made Giles happy.

But Wesley was still staring at him, and now he looked pissed off. "Is that what you think this is?" Wesley demanded, his voice low.

"Well, yeah," Xander said, staying just as quiet. He could still hear the shower running, so Giles probably wouldn't be able to hear them, but there was no point taking chances.

He didn't want Giles to hear this, didn't want Giles to guess that Xander had even been hoping this was something more than it was. He didn't want to be talking about it with Wesley, either, given a choice, but it looked like he wasn't getting one.

"Yeah," Xander repeated, when Wesley didn't answer. "I'm not complaining, but I know what it is. You and Giles are--I don't know how you could get bored, God, do you even know how much I'd give to--Never mind."

"You might at least finish a sentence," Wesley said.

He could do that. "You're bored. Or whatever. And I'm... different, and it's going to be fun, and tomorrow I'll go home and you guys will still be here. Together." He shrugged. "Like I said, I'm okay with that." He looked down, away from Wesley, who looked like he was doing way too much reading between the lines.

"Outside," Wesley said, getting to his feet and pulling on Xander's arm.

Xander's heart sank. "You're throwing me out?"

"No," Wesley said, and Xander would have bet that he wasn't just imagining the implied "you idiot" at the end. "But what I have to say to you, I don't particularly want Rupert to hear. He thinks you want to be here."

Of course Xander wanted to be here; it wasn't like they'd dragged him here against his will. But he let Wesley pull him toward the door anyway, didn't say anything else until they were sitting at one of the tables Giles' apartment complex had put out in the courtyard. "I'm fine with this," he said again, a little more loudly.

"I'm not," Wesley snapped. "And Rupert wouldn't be if he could hear you." He ran a hand through his hair, looking at Xander. "Let me see if I understand this," he said after a moment. "Rupert and I are together. We asked you to join us that afternoon because we were bored, or wanted a cheap thrill, or however you choose to put it. You accepted because--" He broke off, studying Xander's face in the glow of the porch light. "Because you wanted Rupert," he breathed, just barely loud enough for Xander to hear. "You wanted him enough that you couldn't turn your back on an opportunity, however distasteful it was to you."

Xander winced. "It wasn't like that," he argued. "It's not--you're not--I hadn't thought about you before, really, but it wasn't 'distasteful.'"

"But it only happened because you wanted Rupert."

"And you're telling me you didn't do it because he asked you?" Xander demanded.

"Oh, I admit it was his idea," Wesley said, smiling a little. "But Rupert waxed quite eloquent about your charms--beyond the ones apparent to anyone with the sense of sight, that is--and by the time you arrived that afternoon, I was already convinced."

"Convinced," Xander repeated. "Convinced of what?"

"Convinced that I wanted you," he said. "And as the day wore on, convinced that there was something--some reason to attempt to build this into something more than just sex." Then Wesley actually grinned. "Although that would certainly be worth it on its own." His expression turned serious again. "But now you have to make a choice."

Xander blinked at him. "I do?"

Wesley nodded. "If you're only doing this because you believe that it's your only chance to get close to Rupert...." He hesitated, sighing. "It isn't, and I think you have to know that by now."

Xander just shook his head dumbly. "I--what?"

"And if you're going to persist in seeing this as--"

"What 'this' are we talking about?" Xander interrupted.

"This," Wesley said. "The three of us. And that's the point, really. If you're going to persist in seeing this as Rupert and I, plus you--or Rupert and yourself, plus me, for that matter--then it isn't going to work. You're going to force him to make a choice." Now he shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. "And if it comes down to that, I suppose the sensible thing for me to do would be to walk away."

Xander was beginning to think his only role in this conversation was to sit back and say, "Huh?" on a regular basis. "Wes, what are you talking about?"

"You're here, in Sunnydale," Wesley said. "I... can't be. What I'm doing in Los Angeles, with Angel--it's important. I'm doing more good there than I could do here, I think. And so if you're determined to see this as a competition--"

"That's not what I was doing," Xander argued. Wait, was that what he'd been doing? No, he decided, but mostly because he hadn't thought there was any way he could compete. But it sounded like Wesley thought there was another option, and... Xander thought he wanted to hear it. "So... what if I'm not 'determined to see this as a competition'? What happens then?"

"Then," Wesley said quietly, "we see whether we can make this work. All three of us." He smiled at Xander. "After the last time I was here, and then this evening, I think it would be worth it." He reached out, his hand covering Xander's on the table.

Xander turned his own hand around so that he could clasp Wesley's. He hadn't even noticed he was doing it, but when he did, he realized his decision had been made. "Yeah," he said. "I think so, too."

"Then shall we go inside?" Wesley asked. "Even if he volunteered to cook, I'm sure Rupert would welcome some help."

"You're not going to tell him about this, are you?" Xander said. It was bad enough Wesley had apparently seen right through him. He didn't need Giles knowing why Xander had agreed to this. Especially not now, when he'd just had some sense smacked into him, because he really was going to try to look at this differently.

Even though Wesley had made it pretty clear that if Xander wanted Giles and didn't want to share, all he had to do was say so, it turned out that wasn't what Xander wanted, after all. Not when he could have both of them.

And that was way too much thinking for one night, so Xander got up and followed Wesley inside to annoy--also known as "help"--Giles while he cooked dinner.

Xander was sure he'd eaten dinner; he didn't feel hungry, and he knew he had been before he came over here earlier, so signs definitely pointed to food. He just didn't remember it. He remembered sitting at Giles' table, he remembered his hand on Wesley's thigh while they ate, Giles' foot rubbing along his ankle and calf, surprising him enough that he'd dropped his fork. He remembered that they'd talked; Wesley had told stories about what had been happening in Los Angeles. Xander had liked the one about Angel screwing up and accidentally killing a demon that was protecting someone, although he admitted that he'd probably like any story that made Angel look stupid.

And then Giles had gotten up and calmly started clearing the table. Wesley had offered to help; he'd been standing there in the doorway to the kitchen, and Xander had given into a sudden impulse. He'd stood behind Wesley, slipping his arms around Wesley's waist and his hands into Wesley's pockets, pulling him back so that Xander's cock was pressed against the cleft of Wesley's ass.

He hadn't given into the impulse to strip Wesley naked right there and then, which was probably good. Linoleum could get pretty cold, and somebody would have bashed his head on a cabinet.

They'd stayed like that, Wesley grinding back against Xander's cock until Xander thought he was going to explode, until Giles had turned around to look at them with that grin that always made Xander's stomach do flips. "Back upstairs," he told them. Then, his voice rough and warm and low, he added, "I find I'm looking forward to seeing you two fuck."

Xander was counting it as a modern miracle that he hadn't come in his pants.

He managed to get upstairs and undressed, and to let Giles, who was taking a definitely proprietary interest in what was about to go on, get both of them ready. Xander had been pretty much on autopilot until he'd looked down at Wesley and suddenly realized, really realized, what was about to happen.

He still couldn't quite believe that Wesley would be here, lying on his back on the bed--on Giles' bed, in Giles' apartment--with a pillow under his hips, his legs hoisted up on Xander's shoulders, his head resting on Giles' thigh.

Okay, but then again, it was pretty hard to believe he was here, too. Especially "here again," when everybody was sober and had had plenty of time to think about it. Giles and Wesley should have had plenty of time to decide that their sex life didn't need any spicing up--God, how could it? Xander looked at the two of them, right there on the bed, and he couldn't imagine ever wanting to share... either of them, he realized. God. Now he had a thing for Wesley, too, although maybe that wasn't all that surprising. It had been really good sex, last time.

Wesley moaned, arching his hips up a little, and Giles chuckled. "I think our Wesley is rather desperate for you to fuck him," he said, though he didn't sound all that sympathetic.

"Bastard," Wesley said, though he was smiling. "Just because you've already had your fun--"

And that reminded Xander of how it had felt to have Giles' cock in his mouth; he groaned, his own erection throbbing, and suddenly he was very glad that he was already prepared--slick and latex-encased and oh, God, so ready--to fuck Wesley.

At least this was something he was familiar with the basics of; guiding his cock into place and slowly, carefully, beginning to push into Wesley.

Wesley moaned, and Xander stopped, worried that he'd gone too fast.

"No," Wesley said, shaking his head quickly before Xander could do more than look at him. "It's fine. Please, dear Lord, don't stop now."

Xander didn't need any more encouragement, beginning to move, his hips settling into a rhythm that had Wesley moaning his approval. When Xander looked up at him again, his attention was momentarily drawn by Giles.

Not that Giles was doing anything, really, unless you counted caressing Wesley's face. Which was something Xander could watch for a long time, under other circumstances. Say, curled up in bed next to the two of them later tonight, drowsy and well-fucked. Right now, though--

Right now his eyes met Giles', and he realized that Giles was part of this too, even if his role was mostly as Wesley's pillow. He didn't just want to be fucking Wesley right now, burying his cock deep inside the heat of Wesley's body; he wanted to be doing it like this: Giles' eyes on them, Giles' fingers tracing the curve of Wesley's cheek, Giles' other hand reaching out and closing over Xander's on the bed.

"Oh, God," Xander groaned, because now he got what Wesley had been trying to tell him earlier. This wasn't about him and Wesley sharing Giles. This was them, all three of them, and one of these days Xander was going to have to think about that.

One of these days, but not this second, because right this second, Wesley's hips were rising up to meet his thrusts, and Xander watched Wesley's hands clutching helplessly at the sheets. Wesley wanted this, wanted him, and not just as some weird condition on his relationship with Giles, either.

And Xander wanted--

Wanted this to be all three of them. "Touch him," Xander said, his voice hoarse, as he looked up to meet Giles' eyes.

Giles didn't blink, didn't say "What?", didn't give any sign that he hadn't, in fact, been reading Xander's mind. Hell, maybe he had been. It had been a weird enough weekend so far.

Giles just shifted a little, his hand closing around Wesley's cock. Wesley groaned, gasping something that Xander didn't even think was actual words, and Xander grinned at him. "I thought," he murmured, "that we could maybe make this a team effort?"

And then he was thrusting into Wesley again, harder and faster than before, and Giles' hand was moving on Wesley's cock just as fast. Wesley came first, spatters of white on Giles' hand and his own stomach, his muscles clenching tight around Xander's cock.

When Xander came, a few moments later, it was with both Giles and Wesley's hands on his skin.

The last thing Xander remembered from before he fell asleep was lying sprawled on his back, his head turned so that he could watch Giles and Wesley. He'd been too sleepy to want to do anything himself, but he'd watched the way Wesley's hands cupped Giles' skull, the skim of Giles' palms along Wesley's back; listened to the soft sounds of kissing, the contented sighs that escaped them.

They'd moved in the night, and now Xander was using Wesley's chest as a pillow; it only took the slightest turn of his head for him to press slow, open-mouthed kisses against skin. Wesley stirred, blinking sleepily at Xander. Xander grinned, dragging his mouth over Wesley until he found one flat, copper-colored nipple. Wesley's breath quickened when Xander's lips brushed over it, and that was all the encouragement Xander needed to lazily swirl his tongue around it, teasing.

Xander scraped his teeth over Wesley's skin, and Wes groaned, his hand coming up to move in lazy circles on Xander's back. It was funny, really, how not-weird this was starting to seem. Maybe on Monday morning it would be back to feeling weird again, but now it was almost normal. The kind of normal that he'd never, ever be able to tell anyone, that would leave him scrambling for something to say at work about his weekend, but it wasn't like that was anything new in his life.

And as "things that can't be explained to anyone, ever" went, this was better than vampires, demons, and the occasional near-apocalypse.

A lot better, even if he was pretty sure Giles needed to get a bigger bed if this was going to keep happening. He looked up, then, the thought of Giles making him wonder if Wesley's quiet groans and gasps had disturbed him, and saw that Giles had, in fact, woken up, and was lying propped on one elbow, watching them.

"You need a bigger bed," Xander said, because they were going to have to get used to him blurting out the first stupid thing that came into his head sooner or later, and it might as well start now.

Giles chuckled. "Does that mean you're hoping this happens again?"

"I'm hoping it happens again today," Xander said, grinning, "but yeah. Um. If you want to? Wes and I talked about it last night, a little, and we--" He shrugged. "We're okay with it." Which, as attempts to sound casual went, sounded pretty pathetic, but it was Saturday morning, he'd had a lot of really good sex last night, and he wasn't sure he knew how to do "casual" anyway. Not about stuff like this.

"You are?" Giles didn't sound doubtful, exactly, but... maybe he'd been picking up the same vibes Wesley had, and just hadn't had the chance to yell at Xander for them.

"Yeah," Xander said. "I like this." He hoped they didn't want any more explanation; he wasn't sure what to say, how to explain that he meant more than this, that the parts of last night when they'd all been fully dressed and not touching...well, not touching all that much... had been good, too. He'd liked listening to Wesley talk about L.A., and hearing him and Giles argue comfortably about something in that book Wes was borrowing, and realizing that they honestly were paying attention when he'd told a couple of stories about work. This was new, and awkward, and really confusing, but he kept getting the feeling that if they kept working at it, this could really be something good one of these days.

But that was all stuff he couldn't say without feeling like an idiot, so he stayed with "I like this."

"I'm glad," Wesley said. Wesley, at least, probably got what Xander meant, after what they'd talked about last night; one of these days, he was even going to be used to the idea that Wesley understood him.

Xander closed his eyes again and was seriously considering going back to sleep for a while when the bed shifted under him, and he looked up again. Giles was sitting up on the edge of the bed, stretching, and Xander watched the shifting lines of muscle and spine for a moment before he remembered that this was not okay. "Where are you going?" he said, not even trying to keep it from sounding whiny. "We were going to get around to groping you next, you know."

Giles had gotten to his feet; he turned around, smiling down at them--at both of them, Xander realized when he made eye contact. Which shouldn't have been a new thought, after last night, but apparently, his brain needed to be reminded of that from time to time. "I'm afraid that I did promise Buffy I'd train with her this morning," he said.

Damn Buffy and her new commitment to serious slayage, Xander thought. And at least for right now, he meant it, although he was completely aware that he was being dumb and selfish. Not dumb and selfish enough that he was going to complain, though.

"On the positive side," Giles went on, "I should have the rest of the weekend free after that."

Okay, that actually was a positive side. And Xander should probably go home, get some clean clothes, drop his rent check in the mail--all the stuff he'd have done last night before coming over here if he hadn't been so busy trying to convince himself that he shouldn't be here in the first place.

"Fine," he said, looking over at Wesley. "Breakfast?" he offered. "There's a diner over by the site where I'm working now, it's pretty good, and it's kind of dead on the weekends." He'd gone there a few times lately, when he'd wanted to get out of his apartment without actually having to see or talk to people--especially since he hadn't felt comfortable hanging around at the Magic Box, the past few weeks.

Wesley actually looked a little startled, but he nodded. "That sounds like a good idea," he said.

"Bring a book," Xander suggested. "I want to stop by my place first and get some clothes, and I figured I'd wait to shower when I got there so I don't have to put yesterday's clothes back on afterward."

"Speaking of the shower," Giles said, sighing, "if I don't hurry, I'm going to be late." He bent down over the bed, kissing first Wesley and then Xander. Xander thought about apologizing for morning breath, but then Giles' tongue slid past his lips, deepening the kiss and filling it with a promise that this evening was going to live up to any expectations Xander might have had.

"Go ahead," Xander said, even though he wanted to grab Giles by the shoulders and pull him back down to the bed with them. He was pretty sure Wesley would help, too. "I'm going back to sleep."

"We'll see about that," Wesley murmured, which was exactly what Xander had been hoping to hear.

Today was just going to be a day full of surprises, apparently. Or, in other words, whoa.

And again he said, Whoa, because he hadn't actually been aware that Wesley was all that... well... bendy. Even if he'd spent a lot of today reminding himself that Wesley had loosened up a lot lately.

Right now, Xander didn't need too many reminders of that, because he wasn't sure exactly how much looser Wesley could get than lying there on the couch with his knees pulled up as far as he could get them so that Giles could thrust three slick fingers inside him, lube and flesh making wet sounds that Xander could hear even over the low, breathy groans coming from Wesley.

Xander watched, and couldn't help thinking about the night before, when it was his cock buried inside Wesley, when he was the one making Wesley moan and gasp and make that soft grunting noise that really shouldn't be hot. Nothing that could be described by the word "grunt" should be hot, ever.

Except it was. And it was every bit as hot, apparently, when it was Giles making Wesley sound like that, and Xander was sitting back and watching. And feeling totally overdressed, too, even if all he was wearing was a pair of jeans, and those mostly because he'd been the one appointed to answer the door when the Chinese food got there, earlier. But the jeans were getting seriously tight; Xander brushed his hand over his crotch, just trying to relieve a little of the pressure.

Now it was his turn to groan, and both Giles and Wesley turned their heads to look at him. "You like this, don't you?" Giles said, his voice just a murmur. "Watching us. I remember that from last time."

Xander leaned back, hooking his leg over one of the arms of his chair, and slowly, deliberately, rubbed his hand over his groin again. "Yeah," Xander breathed, and just like the last time he'd been there, there was something in Giles' tone that made him seriously consider whether he should have been saying "Yes, sir," instead.

They were going to talk about that, one of these days. Right now, though, he was just going with the flow here.

Then he remembered that the last time, Giles had made him keep talking until he gave a complete answer, and he said, "Yeah. I like watching you." He liked it more today than he had yesterday, even, because today, he didn't have to feel like he was spying on something private, something that didn't include him.

Today, he was watching Giles and Wesley, not because he wasn't included, but because it had been his turn to do the dishes and they'd started making out on the couch while they waited for him. And then, when he came back and told them to just go on with what they'd been doing--well, they had.

"I like watching you," he repeated. "At least, if you guys would give me something to watch," he added, grinning at them.

"I think that was a subtle hint," Wesley said, pulling Giles down for a kiss.

In between kisses, Giles chuckled. "I'm not sure I'd call it 'subtle.'"

"I could be more obvious, if you wanted," Xander said, but really, he didn't need to be, because Giles had started to move his hand again, Wesley's hips shifting forward, rising up a little to meet the thrust of fingers into him.

And now Xander's jeans were definitely getting too tight. He didn't look away, couldn't look away, from Giles and Wesley, but he tugged at his zipper, easing it down over his cock. Oh, yeah, that was better. He unbuttoned his jeans at well, and then it seemed like it would be a shame, now that he'd gone this far, not to reach in and take himself out.

From the way Wesley was looking at him--at Xander, when he had Giles right there leaning over him, and Xander knew which of them he'd rather be looking at--Wesley thought it was a good idea, too.

He wrapped his hand around his cock, stroking it slowly, his attention fixed on the other two. Giles bent down to kiss Wesley again, and Xander moaned, wishing there was some way he could be more involved in this than he was. But he didn't feel left out, not like he would have yesterday. It was just that right now, it was his time to sit here, sprawling back against the chair, his hand moving on his cock in time with the thrusts of Giles' fingers into Wesley.

And now Wesley's hand was on his own cock; Xander watched the slide of long fingers along the shaft, and heard Wesley moaning.

"That's it, Wes," Giles said, in that low, rough voice that made Xander's cock throb, "make yourself come for us. We want to see you, don't we, Xander?"

"Uh," Xander began, his throat dry. He nodded vigorously, swallowing hard before he could reply. "Yes," he mumbled, then tried a third time, a little louder. "Yes. God, yes, Wesley, please."

Giles chuckled. "See? Xander agrees with me."

"You talk too much," Wesley murmured, but his hand moved faster on his cock, his hips rising up again to meet the thrust of Giles' fingers into him.

I've been telling him that for years,, Xander thought, but he couldn't actually make his mouth form the words. He'd had enough trouble saying "Yes," earlier; whole sentences that weren't even immediately relevant were totally out of the question.

Especially since Giles wasn't talking any more, was just as intent on watching Wesley as Xander was; the only person making any sound at all was Wesley, gasping and groaning as he stroked himself.

Giles' fingers pushed into him one more time, and Wesley cried out, head falling back against the couch. Xander watched, completely transfixed, his hand moving faster on his own cock as Wesley's hips bucked and he came, spilling over his hand and stomach.

"Bloody gorgeous," Giles murmured, his free hand coming up to stroke Wesley's hair as Wesley settled back on the couch, breathing heavily. Then Xander must have caught Giles' attention, because he turned his head to look at Xander. "Don't get too carried away," he said, smiling. "I have plans for you later."

Xander gulped. It was difficult, but he dropped his hand to his side almost immediately. He didn't want to miss his chance to find out what Giles had in mind.

He didn't have long to wait, either; once Wesley had had a few seconds to catch his breath, Giles nudged him until he sat up, making room for Xander in between the two of them.

Xander didn't have to be asked to move, either; he got up, losing the jeans on his way over to the couch. He squeezed in between the two of them, his arm going around Wesley's shoulders while Wesley tried to clean himself up as well as he could with the box of Kleenex on the end table.

Giles kept his hands to himself, but his mouth was right against Xander's ear, nipping and sucking at the lobe. That wasn't normally such a big turn-on for him, but he was hard already, and any touch was enough to make him squirm and whimper.

"What," Xander began, and then broke off when Giles moved down to his neck, biting down gently. "What," he tried again, his voice only breaking a little, "were those plans you had for me?" An idea was forming in the back of his mind, the memory of something he'd wanted for a long time without realizing it, but he wasn't sure he could say it, not even now.

Except that Giles was smiling at him and saying, "What would you like me to do with you?" and the words were tumbling out of him before he had a chance to think about them.

"Fuck me," he said, his voice sounding small and shaky in his own ears. "Oh, God, Giles, I want you to fuck me."

From the other side of him, Wesley groaned, and then there were hands on him, sliding over his chest and stomach and thigh.

"That's really what you want?" Giles said. "I don't want you to rush into anything just because you think we're expecting it."

It didn't feel like he was rushing into anything. It felt like this was taking forever; his cock ached to be touched, and neither Wesley nor Giles seemed to be in any hurry to do anything about it. Giles slipped his arms around Xander's waist, pulling him close, and Xander made himself concentrate on what Giles was saying, rather than on the touch. "I'm not saying I don't want to," Giles said. "But only if you're certain you're ready for that this weekend."

And then Wesley was laughing in his other ear, saying, "It isn't as though we've run out of things we can do otherwise," and his hand slid up Xander's thigh, close to Xander's cock but not quite close enough.

"I--I want Giles to fuck me," he repeated, trying to sound determined. He wanted Wesley, too, but this time--he'd wanted Giles before he'd ever let himself consider Wesley, and this first time, he wanted it to be Giles.

"You're quite certain?" Giles' voice was soft and low in his ear, and Xander wanted to explain again that he couldn't think with Giles talking to him like that. Or with Giles' arms around his waist, or Wesley's fingers tracing idle patterns along his leg. In other words, thinking was totally not an option until he went home.

"Will you stop asking me that?" he said, and Wesley chuckled again.

Giles didn't, though; he only sighed. "Xander, I'm not doing it to irritate you. I'm simply aware that this is going to be a completely new experience for you, and--"

"No, it isn't."

Xander was suddenly reminded of TV shows where they used the sound of a needle scraping over a record to indicate that everyone had stopped to do a double-take. Wesley's hand stopped moving, and Giles broke off mid-word; if it hadn't been funny, Xander would have been a little offended that they were that shocked he wasn't as clueless as they'd thought.

Wesley was the first one to speak. "I'm sorry," he said. "I was under--you gave us the impression that you hadn't had any experience with men before..." Xander could almost hear Wesley's brain running through the different ways to phrase it and rejecting ones like the drunken orgy last month. "Before the last time I was here," he concluded, which was probably the most tactful way, Xander had to admit.

He shook his head. "I didn't." Hadn't really wanted any, because his crush on Giles had been a lot more comfortable shoved into a corner and only thought about on special occasions (like, "it's Wednesday" or "there's nothing on TV"), and Wesley... well, the Wesley-thing was a new thing that probably wouldn't have even happened if it hadn't been for the last time. And everything else had just been too unnerving to deal with.

"But--" Wesley started to argue, and Xander shook his head.

"I dated Anya for, like, a year," he said.

He heard Giles murmur something that sounded like he got it now, but Wesley didn't really know Anya, so it didn't surprise Xander that he still looked confused. "She, um. Liked to try things." Xander tried to remind himself that this was Wesley, and if he wasn't going to be embarrassed about what they had done, there was no reason for him to be embarrassed to tell him about Anya and the unmarked boxes that had come in the mail after she'd done some Internet shopping.

Except for the part where it was seriously not okay to talk about his sex life with his ex-girlfriend with his new... um. Okay, "boyfriends" might be the wrong word, but it was as close as Xander's vocabulary would let him get. But he needed to make a point, and so he forged ahead. "One time, not that long before we broke up, she bought this thing..."

And it had looked kind of weird, because not only was it on Anya, but it was purple; Anya had explained that the realistic looking ones had cost more, and since they didn't know if they'd like it or not....

They'd liked it. He'd definitely liked it; Xander's face burned at the memory of just how much he'd liked it, once he'd gotten used to how it felt to have something inside him. And Giles was worried he wouldn't be okay with it?

"Ah," Wesley said quickly, saving Xander--saving them all the embarrassment of going on any further. "I see."

"Anyway," Xander said, "does that convince you that I'm okay with this?"

It must have, because Giles let go of him, getting to his feet and reaching for Xander's hand. Xander let himself be pulled up off the couch without protest; there was no way he was going to argue with Giles being eager to get him into bed.

"Am I invited?" Wesley asked, which made Xander feel a little guilty for a second, until he glanced back over his shoulder and saw the way Wes was smiling at them both.

"Unless Giles wore you out earlier," Xander said. "If you're too wiped out, we'll try to keep the noise down."

Giles laughed. "Xander will try to keep the noise down," he said. "I'll make certain you know precisely what you're missing."

"I don't plan to miss a thing," Wesley said. "I'm not sitting idly by while you two enjoy yourselves."

Xander wasn't exactly sure what Wesley had meant by "not sitting idly by," but as long as it meant Wesley was coming with them, it was a good thing. Xander led the way upstairs, Giles and Wesley just behind him; he paused when he got to the bedroom, not sure how Giles wanted to do this.

"Shall I get him ready for you?" Wesley said, with a wicked grin that--okay, he really needed to stop thinking "this should not be that hot," because apparently he was going to think everything Giles and Wesley did was hot. Xander gulped, a jolt of lust streaking through him, and he could see that Wesley's offer was having a similar effect on Giles.

"Hands and knees?" Wesley went on after Giles' barely perceptible nod, and when Giles nodded again, Wesley nudged Xander toward the bed. "Make yourself comfortable," he said. "You'll be there for some time."

Xander scrambled up onto the bed, trying to get into the right position. God. This was better than any of the times he'd imagined this; it wasn't just Giles, it was both of them, and Xander wasn't sure what he'd done to get this lucky. Whatever it was, he hoped it didn't stop soon.

But then Wesley got the bottle of lube from the table; Xander watched him coating his fingers with it before he joined Xander on the bed. "I'll be as careful as I can," Wesley promised.

He started to wonder if he should have been so confident earlier. It was true, he'd done this before, with Anya, and while it wasn't exactly the same thing, it had been close enough. He could still remember the feeling of Anya's hand clutching at his hip, while her other hand guided the thing inside him; could remember listening to her fret about the harness and whether she had things at just the right angle or not; could remember what it had felt like when she began to move, how hard he'd come that night.

He'd never let her use it again, though, because he'd realized that it was the thought of having a real cock inside him that had gotten him off, and not Anya. And that, he'd decided, was something he wasn't going to deal with.

Except here he was on his hands and knees, weight resting on his forearms, feeling Wesley's cool, slick finger pushing carefully inside of him.

Getting him ready for Giles. Xander hoped that Wesley wasn't just faking it, and he really didn't mind that Xander wanted Giles to be the one to do this. At least, this time.

Wesley definitely didn't seem to mind; that finger worked its way deeper inside Xander, making him moan, and Wesley leaned in to whisper, "Rupert's watching you, you know." Xander couldn't see him without risking spraining his neck, so he just nodded, and Wesley went on. "He's watching what I'm doing to you, watching how you whimper and squirm and push back against my fingers--"

Fingers, plural? Xander thought, suddenly, then groaned as Wesley pulled his finger out, only to slide two fingers into him again.

"He's watching," Wesley repeated, "with his hand wrapped around his cock, and every time you groan, his hand moves a little faster."

"Jesus, Wes," Xander gasped, "what are you trying to do, make my head explode?"

Wesley chuckled, and then bit down gently on Xander's ear, sucking at the lobe before pulling away. "I don't want you to miss anything," he said, as Xander moaned again.

Not much chance of that, really; Xander wasn't going to miss a second of this. It wasn't like last night; he wasn't afraid that this would never happen again, not like he had been then. But this wouldn't ever happen again; there'd never be another first time that Giles fucked him, and oh, God, there was no way he wasn't paying attention.

Wesley took his hand away then, and even though Xander couldn't see his face, he thought he could tell that he was smiling when he said, "He's all yours, Rupert."

Xander closed his eyes for a moment, felt the bed shifting as Wesley moved aside and Giles took his place. Nothing happened for a minute; then Xander heard foil tearing and the wet sound of lube being slicked onto latex-covered skin.

"Tell me if you need me to stop," Giles said, and Xander nodded, even if he couldn't imagine that happening.

He was prepared for it to hurt, at least at first; he remembered that from that night with Anya, too, and Wesley's finger hadn't been all that comfortable at the beginning, either. But all Wesley's preparations had left him aching, empty-feeling.

And then he could feel the head of Giles' cock pushing into him, thick and blunt and feeling a hell of a lot bigger than it actually looked, and Xander whimpered, biting down on his bottom lip.

It was definitely bearable, he thought; painful but not agonizing. He closed his eyes again, concentrating on breathing, slowly and steadily, as Giles spread him open, his cock stretching and filling Xander, easing that ache just as he'd known it would.

"You're doing so well," Wesley murmured; Xander hadn't realized Wesley was still here next to him. "Just keep breathing, Xander, and tell Rupert if you need him to hold still."

"I'm all right," Xander insisted, and as Giles began to move--shallow, careful thrusts that Xander knew weren't going to be enough for either of them for very long--the pain was already beginning to lessen. "I'm... God!" he gasped, as Giles thrust in a little deeper. "I’m good," he finished. "Just... more. God, please, more."

And then Wesley was kissing him, swallowing the moans and whimpers as Giles thrust deeper into Xander. Xander's hips moved, pushing back and urging Giles in deeper, trying to shift position so he could get some friction on his aching cock.

None of Giles' groans came out as actual coherent words, and Xander kind of enjoyed the thought that he'd made him forget his entire vocabulary. Not that Xander was feeling very coherent himself, especially not when one of Giles' hands snaked around his hip and closed around his erection.

"Oh, fuck," Xander wailed, his mouth still pressed against Wesley's. His hips jerked forward as he thrust into Giles' hand, and then he moaned louder as Giles thrust into him again.

And now Giles managed to find words, although it took Xander a moment to process them, another few seconds to realize that yes, that was Giles murmuring, "Look at him, Wes. Bloody gorgeous, isn't he?"

That embarrassed him more than anything else this whole weekend had; his cheeks burned and he buried his face in his arms. "He's right, you know," Wesley said, tipping Xander's chin up to kiss him again.

Xander lost himself in the kiss, letting himself forget his embarrassment. Letting himself forget everything except the slide of Wesley's tongue against his; the slow burn of Giles' cock deep inside him; the heat building in the pit of his stomach, spilling out into his veins--

"Come for us, Xander," Giles said, his voice hoarse, and there was no way Xander could have resisted that.

"You know, Los Angeles isn't that far away," Wesley said, stretching his legs out so that they rested on both Giles' and Xander's laps. Xander's fingers curled around one ankle, idly stroking the skin.

Wesley must have seen the look Xander and Giles gave one another, because he snorted and added, "And no, I don't expect either of you to have anything to do with Angel. I simply wouldn't turn down a chance to see you--either of you, or both if you can spare the time." Then he smiled over at Xander. "My bed is larger than Rupert's, if that's any inducement."

"My bed's bigger than his," Xander said. Which, now that he thought about it, wasn't a bad idea. Then he realized that wasn't really the point. "Still, you know, even if we visit you in L.A.--no, it's not that far away, but it's not right here, either."

"We'll have to do the best we can," Wesley said. "And--because apparently, it needed to be spelled out for the two of you--I don't mind what you do without me." A pause, and then he added, "Provided, of course, that you're willing to share the details with me." Xander could practically feel a stupid grin appearing on his face at that--both at being able to come over here even without Wesley's presence, and at the thought of telling Wesley every last detail of what they'd done.

"I have to go into L.A. sometimes for work," Xander volunteered. "I mean, I'm not there long, but there could be, I don't know, lunch or something."

"See?" Wesley said. "We'll work things out."

"I believe," Giles said dryly, "that there's even an invention called a telephone. It isn't as though Wesley's vanishing into the wilds of Borneo."

"Three way calling," Xander said. "Except I have no idea how long it's going to take Mr. I'm-Scared-of-Technology to master that one." And he wasn't looking forward to trying to teach him, either, but it might be worth the effort.

Especially since it looked like they really were going to try to do this. This wasn't going to be "Giles and Wesley, and sometimes Xander," or even "Giles and Xander, and sometimes Wesley," like Wesley had offered last night. It was going to be the three of them, even when one of them was too far away for them to see daily.

Xander was starting to think he wouldn't want it any other way.

Xander wasn't used to being the first person awake. Not that he never had been before, but usually, he liked his sleep. Sleepovers in elementary school or Saturday mornings with Anya, it didn't matter, he was usually the last person to open his eyes.

But this morning, he chose to believe that the reason he was awake so early--and it was early, if Giles' alarm clock could be trusted--was that he'd done an excellent job of wearing Wesley and--okay, he should probably be trying to get used to "Rupert" now, shouldn't he? An excellent job, then, of wearing Wesley and Rupert out. That was definitely something to be proud of.

Xander shifted on the bed, his back pressed snugly against Wesley's chest, and then threw his arm over Rupert's stomach. At the contact, Rupert moved closer, close enough that Xander could use his chest as a pillow.

He closed his eyes, listening to Rupert's heart beating. Maybe he'd be able to go back to sleep, and wake up at a more normal time.

And if not, well, this wasn't a bad way to spend a Sunday morning.