The girl comes undone

Author: Emmie (justapieceofme)
Title: Reve Et Desir
Fandom: Buffy The Vampire Slayer/X-Men
Pairing(s): Remy/Xander
Rating: NC-17
Continuity: Post-S3 of Buffy, not sure for X-Men.
Author's note: Written for maab_connor at comment_fic, prompt “dancing.” Based on “Hotel California.” I've been meaning to base a fic on said song for years now, and this prompt finally grabbed me. That said: I don't know what the hell this is. I have no explanations here. I don't even know where it falls in X-Men continuity. If I feel up to it, I may write another fic or two in the 'verse to try and figure it out – but don't hold your breath. It also seems to be slightly inspired by the Buffy episode Where The Wild Things Are. This is my first true crossover, my first time writing Remy as a serious character, and quite possibly my first time writing porn without it being full-on PWP -- that is, there's actual stuff that happens after the porn. *Boggles*
Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue, plzthx.

Summary: While on his road trip, Xander discovers a place not listed on any map.

Xander had been driving nearly five hours when the last traces of sunlight faded from the sky. His air conditioner had given out fifty miles outside of Los Angeles, and the cool breeze that picked up now was a welcome relief. The desert sky was blacker than any seen back in Sunnydale. No light pollution out here, no smog obscuring the stars. It was beautiful...and maybe just a little scary. The vast black sky loomed over him as he sped down the otherwise-deserted road, making him suddenly feel very small.

And also very tired, he realized, yawning. He briefly considered pulling over and crashing in the car for awhile, but he was only an hour or so from the next town, and decided to press on. He really preferred traveling at night – especially with that air conditioner issue, he reminded himself, wondering if he could afford to get it fixed. It was going to be a real bitch going cross-country in summer with no --

There were lights up ahead.

He glanced in surprise at the clock. Had he made better time than he'd thought? As the lights drew closer, though, he realized it wasn't a town after all, just a small cluster of buildings. A bar, perhaps? Odd place for one. He'd never heard of a bar out here, and the only other thing he'd seen on this stretch of highway was the occasional run-down gas station.

He pulled into the empty parking lot mostly out of curiosity. It was too big to be just a bar, he decided. Maybe a hotel? Maybe he should stay here for the night. He really was tired, and he probably shouldn't drive much further without a rest. As he opened the car door and stepped out, the sound of an acoustic guitar playing a vaguely Spanish melody reached his ears. If Xander didn't know any better, he would almost say that the sound was pulling him toward the door.

“Welcome,” said a voice from just inside, making him jump. A glass was pushed into his hand by the extremely attractive blond woman who had just stepped out of the shadows of the doorway. Xander did his best to focus on her face, not the way her breasts were threatening to spill out the top of her very low-cut, very form-fitting black dress. “I'll show you to your room,” she said while his brain was still trying to catch up. How did she know I needed a room? he wondered.

Out loud he asked, a little lamely, “What is this?”

“House specialty,” she replied, nodding to the drink in his hand.

“No, I mean, uh, what is this place?”

“Why don;'t you come in and find out?” she said, an edge of laughter in her voice. Tossing back her hair, she smiled invitingly, seductively, and something inside Xander felt sure that this was a Bad Idea, but his feet were already moving forward.

She led him through the darkened, cavernous foyer and up a short, twisting staircase. Upstairs, the halls seemed to be lit only by soft candlelight and done all in natural tones, stone and wood, with the occasional flash of bright tile. Xander sipped his drink as they walked. It was good – sweet and tropical, with just the faintest burn of alcohol. He normally wasn't much for drinking, but he figured one glass of the house specialty couldn't hurt – especially since she'd given it to him without so much as asking for ID, which was pretty cool.

As they made their way through the labyrinthine halls (the place was definitely a lot bigger than it looked from outside, he thought), Xander got the distinct impression of being watched, though there was no one else around. Once or twice he thought he heard whispered voices nearby, but again, no one was there. Shaking his head, he looked down at his nearly-empty glass. Maybe I shouldn't have drunk that after all...

“Here you are,” said his companion at last, opening a door with a quiet click. “Please do let us know if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” he said, taking the key she extended and stepping inside. The door clicked shut softly behind him and he examined the room. All the furniture was done in some dark, heavy wood – cherry, perhaps – and the bed was made with black satin sheets. He sort of smirked at that before moving to the window. It was open, curtains blowing slightly in the soft breeze. The acoustic guitar he has heard earlier was a little louder here.

His room overlooked a courtyard, which seemed to be where the melody emanated from. Stone walls, dripping with vines, bounded the area, and in the center danced several men and women. Xander would have though this odd – after all, it was not past midnight – but his attention had been instantly captivated by the man in the center of the courtyard. He moved like something liquid, muscles rippling beneath his tight jeans and tank, longish auburn hair seeming almost to float around his head. Xander couldn't help but feel a trickle of jealousy toward the woman he was dancing with.

Suddenly the man looked up, directly at him. Their eyes met and Xander's mouth went dry. Smiling, the stranger raised one finger to beckon him, and Xander damn near jumped out the window. Barely remembering his room key, he hastily set off to find the courtyard and the beautiful stranger.

He had expected to lose his way, remembering how long it has taken to reach the room in the first place. Surprisingly, though, the place seemed almost to open itself up to him, and he easily took the right turns, found the correct doors and staircases. Again he felt as though he was being pulled along, this time not by the music but by the sheer presence of the man who had called to him.

He spilled out into the courtyard, out of breath, and realized he had been running. Approaching the stranger, he couldn't think of a single thing to say, but it turned out not to matter. The man simply took his hand, pulled him close, and began again to dance. Xander felt like a complete oaf, dancing with this graceful creature, but he tried to keep up, and as their bodies moved together, his self-consciousness fell away and he danced nearly as well as his partner.

At one point he looked up and bit back a gasp when red-on-black eyes looked back at him. Part of him knew he should be concerned with exactly who – and more importantly, what he was dancing with, but he just couldn't bring himself to care. Something about the stranger compelled Xander to touch him, to get as close as possible, to run his hands over all that muscle. Finally he gave in to the urge, hands roaming over the black-eyed man's chest before finally settling on his hips. The stranger smiled seductively down at him and pulled him closer, arms around Xander's neck so that they danced all but pressed together.

Minutes, hours, or days later, he didn't know and honestly didn't care, Xander felt himself pulled off the dance floor.

“What's your name, cher?” the stranger asked in a Cajun accent that nearly made Xander swoon.

“Xander,” he replied a little breathlessly.

“Xander,” the man repeated, extending a hand. “Remy.” Xander shook, feeling it a little silly after the way they'd just been dancing. “You thirsty?” Xander realized that he was and Remy produced two glasses of champagne seemingly out of thin air. Forgetting his earlier thoughts on drinking, Xander sipped from his glass, having to restrain himself from gulping it down. Remy bent down and kissed him, the flavor of the champagne mixing with that of the man, and Xander wasn't sure if it was the kiss or the alcohol that was making his head spin. He leaned on Remy, feeling the solid warmth of him. The room seemed to swing dizzily around them.

They were back in Xander's room and he didn't remember how they'd gotten there. He had flashes of leaning hard on Remy as unseen people reached for them from every shadow and whispering voices echoed down the hall. He shook his head. Remy was nuzzling at his neck, teeth nipping, tongue searching as his long fingers undid the buttons of Xander's shirt, shoving it back off his shoulders. As soon as it fell to the floor, Xander's hands were up under Remy's tank, exploring the smooth skin, the lithe muscle so close under the surface. He'd never touched another man like this, never even though about it, actually, but that no longer mattered. All that mattered was that he wanted –needed -- more, more of Remy's kisses, more of his skin, more of his hands on Xander's body.

Xander lost time again. He was on the bed, satin sheets cool against his bare back, with Remy straddling him, tongue drawing wet, hot lines over his torso. His fingers hooked in Xander's jeans, dragging them down slightly so that his searching mouth could reach an extra inch of Xander's skin. Moaning, Xander popped open the button of his jeans and allowed Remy to drag them all the way down. He tried to clear his spinning head, tried to focus, determined not to miss a moment of this.

Remy was stroking his cock, slowly, all the while murmuring in French against Xander's sweat-damp skin. Xander really wished that he knew French, but then again, maybe it was good that he didn't. The combination of Remy's hands, his tongue, his breath, his voice... He was pretty sure if he had actually known what the other man was saying he would be coming already.

They were both naked, and Remy was crouched between his legs, licking and nipping at his thighs, the creases where they met his body. Xander moaned as he gently sucked one testicle and then the other into his mouth. He produced a small bottle from seemingly nowhere, just like the champagne earlier, Xander reflected vaguely, and sort of wondered how he did that, thought something about his hands, his fingers, and then those fingers were slicked with lube and pressing against him and he wasn't thinking anything. Moaning and whimpering incoherently, he pressed back against the other man's fingers, needing to feel him inside. Remy took his time, though, stretching him carefully, and it seemed like forever before he was finally thrusting forward. Xander cried out at the unfamiliar sensation, but at the same time, this was what he wanted, this was what he needed, and he writhed on the bed as Remy fucked him, slowly, and it was mere minutes before he was coming, and --

They were outside, dancing. Xander didn't know if it was the same night, didn't particularly care, so long as he was here in Remy's arms, moving with him, pressed together --

They were inside, an unfamiliar room this time, and Remy was behind him, arms wrapped around him, one hand stroking Xander's cock as he fucked him --

Dancing, in the center of a crowd that was completely focused on them, the moon above them, the cool night air chilling their sweat-slick skin, bodies moving together, becoming one, almost more so than when they were --

Fucking, Xander on top, riding Remy's cock, digging his nails into the other man's chest as he came...

It began to occur to Xander that there might be something strange going on. Somewhere in the back of his mind an idea began to occur to him, a thought that this was not quite right. But how could that be? He struggled to think through the haze of lust. How long had he been here? Surely more than one night, by now. And...why couldn't he seem to remember anything of that time, other than being with Remy?

Then again, did anything else really matter?

He began to think maybe he should go. After all, he had that road trip to be getting back to. His home, his friends. He couldn't just...stay here forever.

Could he?

Maybe just one more night.

No, he thought, feeling time slip away from him again. He needed to leave. Reluctantly he disentangled himself from Remy's embrace, murmuring apologetically that he had to go. He started up to his room to gather his things, then remembered that he hadn't brought anything in with him.

He found himself in his room anyway, Remy standing behind him, arms wrapped around Xander's waist as he kissed his neck. Sighing contentedly, Xander leaned back against him.

Wait...no...

Suddenly he felt trapped, as he realized that the taller man was blocking the door. He stepped away, and when Remy moved forward to close the distance, Xander moved around him, out into the hallway. Okay. Leaving. He was leaving. He just had to find his way to the door; it couldn't be that difficult. Instinct told him it was in the same general direction as the dance floor.

Twenty minutes later, he was still wandering the halls, fighting an increasing sense of panic and feeling like he was going in circles. He had been able to navigate these passageways just fine when he had gone downstairs the last time, but now it seemed no matter which way he turned, where he went, he got nowhere. Again he heard voices, and now the distinctly seemed to be laughing at him as he all but sprinted through the lookalike hallways. Finally he found his way downstairs. Progress, he thought. The front door had to be here somewhere – there!

He stopped short in front of the doorway. Remy leaned against it, half-concealed in shadow, turning a small object over and over in his hands. Xander licked his lips, wondering if he could get past. If he could get to his car --

“Don' you want to stay wit' Remy?” the man in the doorway asked, sounding almost sad.

“I...I can't. I have to go,” Xander gestured helplessly toward the door.

Remy nodded. “Can't stop ya.” He extended the object in his hand; Xander took it. It was a card, the ace of hearts. “Ever want to come back, though... Remy be here.” And then he was gone, disappearing into the shadows. Xander walked out into the cool night air, shaking his head in confusion. He got in his car, drove to the nearest town, checked into a motel, and slept dreamlessly for nearly twelve hours. In the morning he was completely shocked to discover that nearly a month had passed since he had left Sunnydale.

He cut the road trip short and headed home. As he drove through the desert, he wondered if he had imagined the whole thing. The ace of hearts sat on the passenger seat beside him, but what sort of proof was that? He could have found that card anywhere. But surely he couldn't have just hallucinated the experience?

In the end though, he decided that must have been the case. It just didn't make sense. The strange hotel that wasn't on any map, the mysterious stranger, the month that he had lost... It simply wasn't possible.

Still, as he drove through the desert, he chose a different road than the one he had taken before – and even then, miles away, he still felt that pull.