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snoggedTitle: Greener Pastures
Author: snogged
Email: snogged@livejournal.com
Rating: NC-17 for bad language, M/m, blowjobs.
Word count: 1,876
Pairing: Oz/Lorne, implied Oz/Willow and Willow/Tara
Timeline: BTVS, Season 4, Post-New Moon Rising
Disclaimer: The characters in this story belong to Joss Whedon and many other corporations. I make no claim to them. I just like playing in their sandbox. Pink Floyd owns the lyrics to "Wish You Were Here."
Distribution: Here. Anywhere else…please ask first.
Summary: What if Oz ended up at Caritas after he left Sunnydale?
A/N: I was bit by this plot bunny about two weeks ago and at the encouragement of my Flist, I made it come to fruition. I dedicate this story to all of those folks who supported me in my endeavor. This was written for Oz’s Full Moon Fever at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
rogue_slasher. Many thanks go out to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
angelskuippo for the beta. Any other mistakes are mine.
Oz clutched the steering wheel, feeling like his life was spinning out of control. He'd come back for her. He'd come back to show her what he had become. He wanted her to see that he had achieved Zen and the art of werewolf maintenance. But it turned out shit didn't spin that way. His emotions had cruelly taken the reins from him and pretty much destroyed everything.
He knew he needed to get the hell out of California but, tonight, he would just have to settle for Los Angeles. He'd crash at Angel's then head out in the morning. At least, that seemed like the rational thing to do. Though, it probably wouldn't hurt to knock back a few drinks before hand. That was considered the old fashioned way to ease the pain.
LA, of course, being the city that never sleeps had a decent selection of bars and nightclubs. He'd been to a few of them before for band gigs but he wasn't interested in stopping at any of those. He wanted to go somewhere where no one would recognize him.
He parked his van in a public parking lot and walked towards a decent looking spot called Caritas. The sign above the door indicated that it was a karaoke bar but that didn't faze Oz. He was used to Devon dragging him to a zillion karaoke bars just so they could practice their tunes in front of the general public. All he needed was a bartender who could whip up a few Captain and Cokes.
He entered the bar and scanned the crowd. There were demons and humans mingling and singing in a fairly peaceful manner. It was an interesting sight, but oddly, less surprising than he would have thought. The real surprise, though, was the prickly demon on stage grunting out a wretched, gargled rendition of Aretha Franklin's "Respect."
"Captain and Coke," Oz set a few dollars on the bar and the bartender went to work on his drink.
"We don't get many of your kind around here, babycakes. Been a long time since a cute, broken-hearted puppy has come through my door."
Oz turned towards the voice and saw a green-skinned demon with red horns standing next to him.
"Welcome to Caritas." The demon bowed dramatically. "It's Latin for "mercy" and you certainly look like you could use some, sugar. Most folks call me the Host, but you can call me Lorne. I bet a gorgeous man like you sounds better than that Farthrak demon up there. Poor Aretha is probably squirming right about now.”
Oz's lips curled in a half smile. "Oz. I'm not the guy that sings. I'm the bass player."
"Makes no difference to me, sweetie. Thing is with all that pain rolling off you it's gonna end up somewhere messy if you don't deal with it now."
Lorne disappeared into the crowd leaving Oz alone with his thoughts and his drink.
******
After a few more drinks and listening to a few Panthros demons do a surprisingly decent version of "Dancing Queen," Oz decided that it wouldn't hurt to take a crack at the microphone.
Lorne took the mic from the demons and clapped his hands. "That was lovely, boys. ABBA would be proud. Our next singer is a cute little out-of-towner known as Oz. Let's make him feel welcome shall we?"
The audience clapped half-heartedly as Oz strolled onto the stage. He took the microphone from Lorne and took a seat on the stool provided. He wished he had his bass here. He was much more comfortable with strings between his fingers.
"So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell, blue skies from pain.
Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail? A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell? And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees? Hot air for a cool breeze? Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?
How I wish, how I wish you were here. We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year,
Running over the same old ground. What have you found? The same old fears.
Wish you were here."
When he finished, the crowd sat in stunned silence. He didn't know if this was good or not but whatever it was, it didn't feel bad. He heard the sound of soft clapping and his eyes locked with the source. It was Lorne and his red eyes were brimming with tears.
He stepped up on stage and took the microphone from Oz. "I'm going to have a chat with our little werewolf friend here. In the meantime, Grogar wants to entertain you all with his revamped version of 'Pretty Fly for a White Guy.'"
Lorne knew that Grogar's singing would give them at least a half hour of alone time. The K'Fyre demon had a tendency to repeat verses over and over. Lorne had heard the song a dozen times and he wasn't feeling the need to do it again. He exited through the side door into his apartment and Oz followed.
"Honey cakes, I don't know if you know this, but I read people when they sing. You know, auras and futures, that sort of things. I'm what they call an empath demon."
Oz nodded. "Makes some amount of sense, I guess."
"You've been through some harsh pain with that little redheaded vixen. She didn't even trust you enough to tell you about her new girlfriend. You had to find out the hard way, didn't you? It made you lose control. And those military guys don't sound like a walk in the park either." Lorne paused, sensing he'd hit a sore spot with the boy. "But there is a silver lining, poodle. You've got greener pastures ahead of you if you just go looking for them."
Oz shifted his weight and sat down on Lorne's bed, letting the demon's words sink in. There was a glimmer of hope at the end of this tunnel but who knew how long it would take to get there?
"And apparently, the Powers that Be want me to help you get there." Lorne sat down next to him and rested his hand on top of Oz's. "It's not going to be easy, sugar."
"Never is," Oz replied.
Lorne looked into the boy's eyes and felt his heart softened. This kid had really been through the wringer these last few days. "For tonight, you're going to let me take care of you. Let Lorne take the pain away for a few hours. And I'm going to have to insist that you spend the night too. Cops in this town don't take kindly to drinkers behind the wheel and I wouldn't want anyone to find that pretty little head of yours all smashed up on the concrete."
Oz shrugged his agreement, pulled his shirt over his head, and yawned.
Lorne's breath hitched. The kid may be a little on the scrawny side but he certainly made up for it with perfectly yummy looking abs. "You're certainly a sight for sore eyes."
"Thanks." He let his body fall backwards onto the comforter and tucked his arms behind his head.
Lorne tried to resist the urge to run his tongue across the plane of Oz's stomach but he just couldn't help himself. Besides, the boy's aura was pulsating with lusty colors and Lorne had never prided himself on self-control when it came to bed partners. Oz may not be saying what he wanted but the quiet, heartbroken man appeared to need contact of the physical variety.
Oz's fingers intertwined in Lorne's short hair and Lorne felt himself get tugged upwards.
Lorne looked at him with feigned surprise. "Gonna tell me your aura's lying? That this really isn't your thing?"
Oz's lips curled into a half smile as he brought Lorne's lips to his in a hungry kiss.
Lorne felt his skin tingle and his dick throbbed with lustful need. It had been awhile since anyone had awakened such a need in him. "Never would have guessed you were a demon lover."
Oz shrugged and kissed him again. "You said I'd find greener pastures and I don't think it's getting any greener than this."
"Oh believe me, sweet pea, it gets a lot greener."
Lorne sat up and stripped off his shirt. Oz shifted into a sitting position and kissed Lorne's shoulder blade, his hands drifting across the expanse of Lorne's chest. The texture of the demon's skin was fascinating. There were parts that felt smooth like a human and other parts that felt ridged and bumpy. Oz couldn't help but feel curious about what Lorne's other parts looked like.
His hand moved across Lorne's stomach and the demon shivered in pleasure.
"Oh babycakes, don't stop there."
Oz let his hand drop to the bulge of Lorne's red pants and he massaged it through the fabric. Lorne closed his eyes and groaned, letting his other senses become hyperaware of what was going on. Those Tibetan monks must have taught him more than just control.
Oz's fingers moved to unzip Lorne's pants and Lorne shifted his position slightly to allow him better access. Hearing someone sing was enough to learn about their futures but there's a lot that can be said about the auras one radiates in the midst of sex. He could only imagine the tunes the werewolf would make his body sing.
Lorne felt his cock spring loose of its confines and his eyes fluttered open. Oz grinned wolfishly and his tongue darted out, licking the tip of the demon's dark green member. Lorne’s jaw dropped in surprise as the human’s tongue expertly swirled around the head, teasing the intensely sensitive flesh. The demon looked to the ceiling, as if to thank some unknown deity for bringing him such a delicious bed partner. His fingers curled and he clutched the bed sheets. Oz’s tongue ran down the length of the green shaft and Lorne groaned his approval. Finally, he wrapped his lips around the head and engulfed the entire length in one slow, delectable descent. The sounds associated with this experience were wet, sloppy, and lewd.
“Fuck!” Lorne felt like he couldn’t contain himself. He felt like he was going to explode any second if this man kept it up. Who knew such a quiet guy had this much sucking power? The demon arched his back and gripped the sheets tighter as his thick, creamy load exploded into the back of Oz’s mouth. Oz swallowed and looked up at Lorne, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.
“You don’t taste much different than human. Tastes a lot like a Sea Breeze actually.”
Lorne smiled and shrugged. “I think we need to get back, honey cakes. Grogar’s just about done in here. I can hear the booing.”
Oz reached for his shirt and slipped it back on. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint the audience.”
“Don’t think we’re done here, sweetie.” Lorne admonished. “There’s going to be plenty more of this later.”
Oz flashed the demon a killer grin. “I’m counting on it.”
Author: snogged
Email: snogged@livejournal.com
Rating: NC-17 for bad language, M/m, blowjobs.
Word count: 1,876
Pairing: Oz/Lorne, implied Oz/Willow and Willow/Tara
Timeline: BTVS, Season 4, Post-New Moon Rising
Disclaimer: The characters in this story belong to Joss Whedon and many other corporations. I make no claim to them. I just like playing in their sandbox. Pink Floyd owns the lyrics to "Wish You Were Here."
Distribution: Here. Anywhere else…please ask first.
Summary: What if Oz ended up at Caritas after he left Sunnydale?
A/N: I was bit by this plot bunny about two weeks ago and at the encouragement of my Flist, I made it come to fruition. I dedicate this story to all of those folks who supported me in my endeavor. This was written for Oz’s Full Moon Fever at
rogue_slasher. Many thanks go out to angelskuippo for the beta. Any other mistakes are mine. Oz clutched the steering wheel, feeling like his life was spinning out of control. He'd come back for her. He'd come back to show her what he had become. He wanted her to see that he had achieved Zen and the art of werewolf maintenance. But it turned out shit didn't spin that way. His emotions had cruelly taken the reins from him and pretty much destroyed everything.
He knew he needed to get the hell out of California but, tonight, he would just have to settle for Los Angeles. He'd crash at Angel's then head out in the morning. At least, that seemed like the rational thing to do. Though, it probably wouldn't hurt to knock back a few drinks before hand. That was considered the old fashioned way to ease the pain.
LA, of course, being the city that never sleeps had a decent selection of bars and nightclubs. He'd been to a few of them before for band gigs but he wasn't interested in stopping at any of those. He wanted to go somewhere where no one would recognize him.
He parked his van in a public parking lot and walked towards a decent looking spot called Caritas. The sign above the door indicated that it was a karaoke bar but that didn't faze Oz. He was used to Devon dragging him to a zillion karaoke bars just so they could practice their tunes in front of the general public. All he needed was a bartender who could whip up a few Captain and Cokes.
He entered the bar and scanned the crowd. There were demons and humans mingling and singing in a fairly peaceful manner. It was an interesting sight, but oddly, less surprising than he would have thought. The real surprise, though, was the prickly demon on stage grunting out a wretched, gargled rendition of Aretha Franklin's "Respect."
"Captain and Coke," Oz set a few dollars on the bar and the bartender went to work on his drink.
"We don't get many of your kind around here, babycakes. Been a long time since a cute, broken-hearted puppy has come through my door."
Oz turned towards the voice and saw a green-skinned demon with red horns standing next to him.
"Welcome to Caritas." The demon bowed dramatically. "It's Latin for "mercy" and you certainly look like you could use some, sugar. Most folks call me the Host, but you can call me Lorne. I bet a gorgeous man like you sounds better than that Farthrak demon up there. Poor Aretha is probably squirming right about now.”
Oz's lips curled in a half smile. "Oz. I'm not the guy that sings. I'm the bass player."
"Makes no difference to me, sweetie. Thing is with all that pain rolling off you it's gonna end up somewhere messy if you don't deal with it now."
Lorne disappeared into the crowd leaving Oz alone with his thoughts and his drink.
******
After a few more drinks and listening to a few Panthros demons do a surprisingly decent version of "Dancing Queen," Oz decided that it wouldn't hurt to take a crack at the microphone.
Lorne took the mic from the demons and clapped his hands. "That was lovely, boys. ABBA would be proud. Our next singer is a cute little out-of-towner known as Oz. Let's make him feel welcome shall we?"
The audience clapped half-heartedly as Oz strolled onto the stage. He took the microphone from Lorne and took a seat on the stool provided. He wished he had his bass here. He was much more comfortable with strings between his fingers.
"So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell, blue skies from pain.
Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail? A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell? And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees? Hot air for a cool breeze? Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?
How I wish, how I wish you were here. We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year,
Running over the same old ground. What have you found? The same old fears.
Wish you were here."
When he finished, the crowd sat in stunned silence. He didn't know if this was good or not but whatever it was, it didn't feel bad. He heard the sound of soft clapping and his eyes locked with the source. It was Lorne and his red eyes were brimming with tears.
He stepped up on stage and took the microphone from Oz. "I'm going to have a chat with our little werewolf friend here. In the meantime, Grogar wants to entertain you all with his revamped version of 'Pretty Fly for a White Guy.'"
Lorne knew that Grogar's singing would give them at least a half hour of alone time. The K'Fyre demon had a tendency to repeat verses over and over. Lorne had heard the song a dozen times and he wasn't feeling the need to do it again. He exited through the side door into his apartment and Oz followed.
"Honey cakes, I don't know if you know this, but I read people when they sing. You know, auras and futures, that sort of things. I'm what they call an empath demon."
Oz nodded. "Makes some amount of sense, I guess."
"You've been through some harsh pain with that little redheaded vixen. She didn't even trust you enough to tell you about her new girlfriend. You had to find out the hard way, didn't you? It made you lose control. And those military guys don't sound like a walk in the park either." Lorne paused, sensing he'd hit a sore spot with the boy. "But there is a silver lining, poodle. You've got greener pastures ahead of you if you just go looking for them."
Oz shifted his weight and sat down on Lorne's bed, letting the demon's words sink in. There was a glimmer of hope at the end of this tunnel but who knew how long it would take to get there?
"And apparently, the Powers that Be want me to help you get there." Lorne sat down next to him and rested his hand on top of Oz's. "It's not going to be easy, sugar."
"Never is," Oz replied.
Lorne looked into the boy's eyes and felt his heart softened. This kid had really been through the wringer these last few days. "For tonight, you're going to let me take care of you. Let Lorne take the pain away for a few hours. And I'm going to have to insist that you spend the night too. Cops in this town don't take kindly to drinkers behind the wheel and I wouldn't want anyone to find that pretty little head of yours all smashed up on the concrete."
Oz shrugged his agreement, pulled his shirt over his head, and yawned.
Lorne's breath hitched. The kid may be a little on the scrawny side but he certainly made up for it with perfectly yummy looking abs. "You're certainly a sight for sore eyes."
"Thanks." He let his body fall backwards onto the comforter and tucked his arms behind his head.
Lorne tried to resist the urge to run his tongue across the plane of Oz's stomach but he just couldn't help himself. Besides, the boy's aura was pulsating with lusty colors and Lorne had never prided himself on self-control when it came to bed partners. Oz may not be saying what he wanted but the quiet, heartbroken man appeared to need contact of the physical variety.
Oz's fingers intertwined in Lorne's short hair and Lorne felt himself get tugged upwards.
Lorne looked at him with feigned surprise. "Gonna tell me your aura's lying? That this really isn't your thing?"
Oz's lips curled into a half smile as he brought Lorne's lips to his in a hungry kiss.
Lorne felt his skin tingle and his dick throbbed with lustful need. It had been awhile since anyone had awakened such a need in him. "Never would have guessed you were a demon lover."
Oz shrugged and kissed him again. "You said I'd find greener pastures and I don't think it's getting any greener than this."
"Oh believe me, sweet pea, it gets a lot greener."
Lorne sat up and stripped off his shirt. Oz shifted into a sitting position and kissed Lorne's shoulder blade, his hands drifting across the expanse of Lorne's chest. The texture of the demon's skin was fascinating. There were parts that felt smooth like a human and other parts that felt ridged and bumpy. Oz couldn't help but feel curious about what Lorne's other parts looked like.
His hand moved across Lorne's stomach and the demon shivered in pleasure.
"Oh babycakes, don't stop there."
Oz let his hand drop to the bulge of Lorne's red pants and he massaged it through the fabric. Lorne closed his eyes and groaned, letting his other senses become hyperaware of what was going on. Those Tibetan monks must have taught him more than just control.
Oz's fingers moved to unzip Lorne's pants and Lorne shifted his position slightly to allow him better access. Hearing someone sing was enough to learn about their futures but there's a lot that can be said about the auras one radiates in the midst of sex. He could only imagine the tunes the werewolf would make his body sing.
Lorne felt his cock spring loose of its confines and his eyes fluttered open. Oz grinned wolfishly and his tongue darted out, licking the tip of the demon's dark green member. Lorne’s jaw dropped in surprise as the human’s tongue expertly swirled around the head, teasing the intensely sensitive flesh. The demon looked to the ceiling, as if to thank some unknown deity for bringing him such a delicious bed partner. His fingers curled and he clutched the bed sheets. Oz’s tongue ran down the length of the green shaft and Lorne groaned his approval. Finally, he wrapped his lips around the head and engulfed the entire length in one slow, delectable descent. The sounds associated with this experience were wet, sloppy, and lewd.
“Fuck!” Lorne felt like he couldn’t contain himself. He felt like he was going to explode any second if this man kept it up. Who knew such a quiet guy had this much sucking power? The demon arched his back and gripped the sheets tighter as his thick, creamy load exploded into the back of Oz’s mouth. Oz swallowed and looked up at Lorne, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.
“You don’t taste much different than human. Tastes a lot like a Sea Breeze actually.”
Lorne smiled and shrugged. “I think we need to get back, honey cakes. Grogar’s just about done in here. I can hear the booing.”
Oz reached for his shirt and slipped it back on. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint the audience.”
“Don’t think we’re done here, sweetie.” Lorne admonished. “There’s going to be plenty more of this later.”
Oz flashed the demon a killer grin. “I’m counting on it.”