The Fall Of Resist-O-Boy

He'd tried to resist. He'd been nothing but resist-o-boy the first few months after Angel grabbed him and offered him up to the Bleached Wonder.

So he was feeling the horniness for guys. He was a teenager. It happened.

Okay, so it hadn't happened enough to make him any more enthusiastic about Big Gay Larry, but Xander was man enough to admit in his own mind that he'd been checking out the masculine goods since the whole hyena thing.

In a very small voice.

In the dark.

Alone.

Under the covers.

No photographs or recorders in the auditorium, please.

What he had not been until Parent Teacher Night and his stint in the role of Vampire hors d'oeuvres was tingly, achy, horny, and cranky once a month. And thank god for chocolate.

Not that anybody was going to notice a difference in him there.

Then, Spike had turned up again, tracked him down, and explained. See, even living on a Hellmouth for eighteen years, there were some things Xander didn't want explained to him. The fact that he'd apparently been possessed by a female hyena spirit was one of them, and the fact that the hyena seemed to regard Spike as its mate was the second.

He'd have been able to ignore the whole thing as Spike trying to work him up if it wasn't for the fact that a) Spike wasn't laughing, b) Angel had given him to Spike, and c) the tingly, achy, horny, pissed off feeling only went away when Spike was fucking him, and how wrong was that?

About as wrong as Spike up and disappearing on him and nothing doing a damn thing to stop the once a month craving for him that Xander would admit to in oh, about a thousand years, maybe, if someone drove hot pokers into him until he confessed. He'd even resorted to a covert ops mission into the tiny little porn store at the end of main, and sworn the toys were for his girlfriend. Or maybe that he'd lost a bet.

So he'd babbled.

Okay.

Big surprise there.

He could have handled babbling over a sex toys buy if any of them had helped.

But had they?

Of course they hadn't.

And he was a teenaged boy, so he'd put in serious effort trying to forget it all through face-sucking therapy with Cordelia. If only it'd worked more than 27 days out of every 28.

The only thing that'd helped on that 28th day was getting up in the middle of the night, sneaking over to the mansion, waiting until Angelus and Drusilla left, and hoping that Spike was still rolling around somewhere in there willing to nail him to the mattress.

Yeah, that'd helped.

Until Xander woke up the next morning and had to deal with it all.

Then, there'd been the sniffy personal space invadey Oz thing, and try that on for weird.

He was almost starting to look forward to the whole Apocalypse deal.

It would be less confusing. At least when you were running away from monsters, screaming in terror, you knew which way to run.

Lately, Xander didn't even know which way to turn.