"Tonight."

"Muh?" Xander woke slowly to warm hands shaking him, and groped on the night stand for the lamp. "What's go-"

Wesley closed his hand over Xander's wrist, tugging. "No. No time for questions."

Ignoring him completely, Xander sat up, scrubbing at his eye and realizing that Wesley was both fully dressed and freezing. "Where've you been?"

"On the computer." Wesley slid off the bed, pulling a suitcase from beneath it and beginning to throw clothes in.

"I thought you were supposed to go out and meet with- Oh."

Wesley glanced back at Xander, his face unreadable. "Oh?"

"Ohh," Xander said, sliding out of bed and padding over to Wesley, wrapping his arms around him, and only partly leaning on him because he was still half asleep.

"Drool on me and I shan't forgive you. We don't have time to change clothes."

"There you go with that time thing again. What the hell did your dad say to you?"

"That he forbids it," Wesley answered. Reluctantly.

"Uh huh..." Xander said, rearranging his grasp around Wesley to stroke over the muscles of his stomach, closing his eye again and letting the comfortable muzziness of sleep wrap around him as they swayed. "And you-?"

Slowly, Wesley leaned back into Xander, spine loosening enough to curve against Xander's chest, head tilting to rest against darker hair. "Booked a flight to Vegas," Wesley admitted.

Xander chuckled, biting at his shoulder. "Come back to bed, sweetheart."

"But we'll miss our flight." Wesley reached, half-heartedly, for the luggage, but let Xander draw him backwards to the bed, and really, those sleep-warm hands did feel nice.

"Right. We'll miss our flight, and get married right here, tomorrow, like we planned. Because I so don't wanna be the one to explain to a hundred disappointed slayers in training that we got cold feet the night before."

"But he'll be here. He'll try to stop us."

Xander snorted, twisting with Wesley until they both tumbled across the mattress, tangled in the comforter. "Trust me. He's gonna have to really pull out the stops for this one. I've had someone try to stop my wedding before."

"Successfully," Wesley pointed out, though he didn't fight to extract himself from Xander's grasp or the bedding.

"Only because he was right. Can't think of one right thing your Dad could say to me that'd make me change my mind."

"I'm a failure."

Xander snorted. "Yeah, you failed yourself right into a top spot at Wolfram and Hart."

"Which is a hotbed of evil."

"Details." Xander waved a hand and shuffled to his knees, straddling Wesley's hips, sparing a moment to enjoy the feeling of soft fabric against naked skin. "You were there as a force of good."

"Was! I couldn't even keep that job."

"Wes, I've been fired from more jobs than you've ever had." Xander rested his hands on Wesley's stomach, palms tingling with the warmth. "Gonna have to try something else."

Wesley sucked in his stomach as Xander's hands came up below the shirt, fingers feeling much colder against his skin than he'd expected, but he watched Xander shove his shirt up beneath his arms with some growing amusement. "The homosexual argument, I suppose, won't hold any weight with you."

"Duh. Kind of a requirement for me." Xander leaned down to sample the hardening flesh of a nipple, tongue flickering over it until Wesley squirmed. "You're smart. Think of something."

"You want me to talk you out of marrying me?" Wesley's voice would have been disbelieving if it weren't so breathless, and really, the weight of Xander over his cock was so nice.

"I want you to try. I'm proving a point." Xander shifted his weight, pinning Wesley beneath the heat and heaviness of his balls, settling into a slow rocking that was entirely likely to drive him mad.

"That I have no resistance at all to you?"

"You're not trying," Xander reminded him, sliding his hands over Wesley's chest and stomach in a thoroughly distracting pattern of warmth and cold.

"I- I suppose he might say that it's destroying the Wyndam-Pryce legacy."

Xander snorted. "Good."

"That is my family, you know."

"Your family treats you like shit," Xander pointed out, tugging Wesley's shirt back down and unbuttoning it from the bottom up, smoothing it open as he went. "Try again."

"Everyone I love is doomed to a life of-"

Xander sat back, ticking off the words on his fingers. "Vampires? Demons? Possible spirit possession?"

Wesley deflated. "Well, when you put it that way..."

"Come on, was that your best shot?" Xander was grinning at him in a very disturbing way, making quick work of Wesley's belt buckle and trousers, shimmying them off of him in a way that had to have been practiced. "Stun me with your brilliance."

"You'll have my father as an in-law?" Wesley suggested dryly, then moaned, the warm weight of Xander's cock trapped against his momentarily all he wanted to think about.

"You have met my family, Wes? Neither of us are getting much in the in-laws department."

The way Xander was moving made it so difficult to think, and Wesley drew a sharp breath, shaking his head. "God, we are not going to discuss our fathers while naked and hard and-"

"Slick?" Xander asked, holding up a half empty tube and squeezing a healthy portion onto his fingers, sliding them down to wrap around Wesley and stroke.

Wesley tried to answer with proper wit, but all that emerged was a gutteral croak, and he was distantly aware that his fingers might be bruising Xander's hips - then more distinctly aware that the notion of his finger marks branded on Xander's hips tomorrow under that absolutely delicious Egyptian kilt, all white fabric against bronzed skin against- Wesley sat up abruptly, clasping the back of Xander's neck with one hand, and dragging him into a kiss more about possessive hunger than worry and reassurance.

"You're marrying a bad, bad man?" Wesley tried, rubbing his lips over the night-stubble of Xander's cheek, the hairs prickling at his skin and tongue.

"Oh look who's got an exaggerated opinion of himself." Xander's voice was breathy, and his fingers tightened spasmodically over their trapped erections, jerking them hard enough to make them both shudder. "You're getting desperate, Wes."

"God, you have no idea. When you came to fetch me from the office today-" Wesley's voice roughened, broke as he thrust into Xander's grip, head arched back to reveal his scar, white and shining on his throat, "-I very nearly bent you over my desk and took you then. Bugger the bloody consequences."

"Can't," Xander panted, but let Wesley roll them, the open sides of his shirt tickling Xander's arms, trapping the heat between their bodies. "Have to - go without for a month before." Xander groaned, spreading his legs wide on the bed, feet braced against the mattress to buck into Wesley's grip, the hard pulse of cock against cock so good but not enough. "Promised."

"Bugger promises." Wesley arched, fisting one hand in the sheets until his knuckles ached.

"Gonna bugger you tomorrow night. And then all bets are off," Xander corrected, rolling them over again to get a knee between Wesley's, settling in to the business of grinding against him, well beyond the desire for teasing and tender and, god, Wesley looked good with his eyes that wide, that dark, that. "Ah - god!" Xander shuddered at the splash and heat and pulse of Wesley's orgasm, the musk and slickness between their bodies more than enough to send him tumbling after, collapsing on Wesley with a hum of pleasure.

Wesley's breath came raggedly, shivering over cooling skin, and it took so much effort to get his arms to move, to wrap them around Xander and hold him there, belly to belly, sticky enough that some practical part of his mind worried that they might wake up to impromptu depilation. "Remind me again why we promised?"

"Spike. Bet. Money. Lots."

Wesley groaned. "He's just going to steal it from some poor sod, you know."

"Personal satisfaction."

"You're as bloody minded as he is."

Xander's smile widened, sleepy and sated. "Great personal satisfaction."