Moist and Delicious
Summary: Xander introduces Graham to his love of... snacks.
Date: September 8, 2001
Notes: Inspired by all the great X/Gr fics that have been posted recently <g>   Charles, thank you for the beta, and sorry for making you get out the dictionary.  ;)

**********

It all started out, as did most of Xander’s seductions, in a seemingly  innocent way...

“Bearclaw?”

Graham looked up from the text he was studying and blinked owlishly at the young man in front of him.  “Uh... next to the tiger teeth?”

Xander’s eyebrows crept up his forehead.  “The cow flies at midnight.”

”What?”

“Huh?”

“Xander.”  Graham frowned at the smirking Scooby.

“Hey, you’re the one who started speaking in tongues.  Or was that some kind of freaky commando speak for ‘I don’t eat anything made with refined sugar’?”

The Marine sighed and glanced around the deserted Magic Shop, hoping that someone, anyone would pop in and save him from having to participate any further in this strange conversation with this equally strange young man.  No such luck.  “I don’t know where the bearclaws are.”  This was only the second time he had been left with the dubiously responsible task of minding the shop.  He couldn’t possibly be expected to know the location of every bit of the inventory yet.

Now it was Xander’s turn to frown.  “They’re right here.”  He held up a plain white paper bag for Graham’s inspection, and then, much to the older man’s consternation, Xander sat down with the finality of someone who was planning on staying in one spot for a good amount of time.  “So,” he shook the bag a little.  “Do you want one?”

Graham tried not to grimace.  How these people could handle such grotesque objects with such offhanded ease still amazed him.  Maybe it had to do with living on a Hellmouth for so long.  Maybe one day he too would be able to gift wrap chicken feet without internally gagging.  “Uh... No.  Thanks.”

Xander shrugged.  “Suit yourself.”  He pulled a large pastry from the bag and licked his lips hungrily.

Oh!  A *bearclaw*!  Graham dipped his head and tried to once again concentrate on his book, hoping that the blush on his cheeks wasn’t that noticeable.

For a few seconds there was silence, then he heard a sigh of discontent and the sound of the bag rustling again.  Against his better judgment, Graham looked up and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Changed my mind.”  Xander chewed on his bottom lip as he searched for a different snack.

“Oh.”  Graham nodded and tried to return to the words in front of him, but his concentration had vanished in the face of the barely restrained bundle of energy sitting across from him.

“A ha!”  Xander grinned triumphantly as he pulled something else out of the bag.  He surreptitiously checked to see if... yes indeed, Graham was watching him again.

Graham’s brows furrowed as he looked at the revealed object.  “What’s that?”

The younger man made a derogatory sound low in his throat.  “You health food people...” he muttered.  “This is a cream horn.  Chock full of creamy, horny goodness.”  His unoccupied hand quickly pinched the inside of his thigh to help keep any smirks, or snickers at bay.  Now was not the time to burst out in anticipatory giggles.

“Ah.”  Graham stared at the long, thick pastry in Xander’s hand... or, rather, he stared at the way Xander’s hand was holding the long, thick pastry.  And, then he was staring at the way Xander was staring at the long, thick pastry... the brightness of his eyes... the pinkness of tongue that licked that full, ready mouth... the-

Graham quickly diverted his gaze, not liking where it had taken him.  It’s not that he didn’t find the boy attractive, he did have eyes, after all, but Xander just wasn’t his type.  He was sarcastic, brash, outspoken, undisciplined... Basically, Xander was a walking, talking, snarking example of Graham’s ‘dislikes’ list.

Strangely cunning brown eyes narrowed as Xander noticed the sudden lack of attention directed his way.  It was time to take things up a notch.  “I can’t believe you’ve never had one of these before.”

Drawn back by Xander’s voice, Graham’s gaze returned just in time to see that tongue he had been admiring gently lap at the white cream of the pastry.  Sky blue eyes widened as all hope of simply ignoring the Scooby flitted out the window.

Xander could tell his audience was hooked, but one of the hallmarks of a great performer was to always keep them wanting more.  He spent a little more time lapping at the filling, letting the sugary goodness dissolve on his tongue.  And then, without preamble, he breathed in through his nose, opened his mouth wide, and took one end of the cream horn between his stretched lips.

Graham stared, slack jawed at the spectacle before him.  He even stopped blinking, not wanting to miss a second of the show.  The commando knew, without a doubt, that the image of Xander Harris softly sucking on a previously unknown form of baked good would be forever emblazoned in his mind.  It was a nice addition.

Finally, certain that his point had been made, Xander gave up on trying to inhale the creamy insides, and simply bit off the end of the pastry, overshadowing most unpleasant associations by swallowing and licking his lips greedily.  He then made to repeat the actions, but at the last second, before his mouth descended over the previously innocent food, Xander looked up, meeting Graham’s slightly dazed eyes, and asked,  “Are you sure you don’t want some of this?”

Graham, for his part, reacted admirably.  Outwardly cool, and somewhat collected, he ignored the various impulses that ordered him to reach across the table and do... what were sure to be very pleasant things, actually.

And, why was he ignoring those particular impulses again?

Graham mentally shrugged, rose from his seat and walked around the table.  When he reached Xander, he grabbed the younger man by the shoulders and roughly pulled him up out of the chair.  Before any protests, real or compulsory, could be issued, Graham latched onto Xander’s mouth.

For a moment, everything froze.  The eventual outcome of the situation teetered between completion and frustration.  Then, Xander kissed him back.

When Graham was done with his second hand sampling of the cream horn, he started pulling Xander toward the training room.  The quiet, secluded, training room.

The smiles on the men’s faces were eerily similar.  And, as they disappeared into the back, and before his mouth was once again occupied, the younger one said.  “And I didn’t even have to take out my eclair.”

**********

the end




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