Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (tv)
Summary/Teaser: You meet all sorts of people at a warlock convention.
Warnings: explicit and not-entirely-consensual sex between an older adult and a college-age student, both male.
Spoilers: set pre-S6, though it contains some S6 allusions.
Notes: Written for inbetween for The BtVS/Angel Male Slash First Time Ficathon. The request (abbreviated version): The Trio (separate or as a team) and Ethan, some humour, rating higher than a PG.
Word Count: 897

Standard Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and co. own the characters, I'm just playing with them. I do, however, own this story, so don't steal it. Archive it anywhere; just ask first.

Feedback is always appreciated. Make me blush with praise or rip apart the story with criticism, or both.

Warlocks of the New Millennium
by Elizabeth Scripturient

"Warlocks of the New Millennium? We're not warlocks, we're scientists, saboteurs, nemeses extraordinaire. We don't dabble in this foolish stuff the unenlightened call magic," Andrew scoffed at Jonathan, tossing aside the newspaper clipping he had grabbed from him.

"Hey there big boy, not so fast," said Warren, picking the newspaper clipping up off the floor.

"What, we do dabble in magic?" Andrew sounded very unsure of himself, ready to agree to whatever Warren said.

"Well yeah, maybe. That's not what's important right now, though. I mean this convention. Let’s not toss aside such a golden opportunity. Do you understand the networking possibilities such a gathering offers?"

"Oh, yeah, networking, of course. I knew that," Andrew said hurriedly.


They were all dressed in dark, cleanly pressed suits. Warren was the only one of them who looked like he actually belonged at the convention, however. Andrew and Jonathan kept looking around like scared animals, afraid someone would find out they weren't really warlocks and kick them out.

Warren walked steadily through the large convention hall, glancing nonchalantly at the tables on either side of them, apparently unimpressed by what he saw.

A man came up to them and spoke directly to Warren. "Something big is coming, and you're going to be a part of it.

"Aw, I bet you say that to all the young warlocks."

"Well, maybe I do. But i have been watching you. And I am intrigued."

Warren read his name tag. "Ethan Rayne. I remember you. With the costume shop. My girlfriend was a French maid that year. Oh that was a good Halloween."

"It was?" Jonathan asked. "Which Halloween was that? I didn't think it was cool to dress up for Halloween once you got to high school."

"Oh, shut up, Jonathan."

"May I speak with you alone, Warren?"

"I'm sorry, Ethan, but if you have anything to say to me, you can say it in front of my boys. You say you've been watching us, but clearly you have failed to notice something. Our name. We are The Trio. That means that we operate as a unit, a well-oiled machine if you will. So either you speak to all three of us, or you speak to none of us."

"I have a proposition of, shall we say a rather, sensitive, nature." He leaned toward Warren and lowered his voice. "It involves some rather unseemly aspects which I don't believe your associates are quite prepared to accept at this stage."

"Okay, boys, get lost."

Meekly, Jonathan and Andrew obeyed, threading their way through the mass of people filling the room.

Warren turned to Ethan. "So what do you want, Mr. Rayne?"

"Mr. Rayne? And here I thought we were on a first name basis, Mr. Meers."

"Well perhaps we were, but you seem to be pressing your advantage, disrespecting my authority, separating me from my people."

"Your people? Surely you jest. We both know they are merely pawns. Not un-useful pawns, but pawns nonetheless.”

"Fine, they're pawns. Now can we get on with the details of this business proposition?"

"Oh, all in good time, Mr. Meers. For now, I am interested in learning more about your, associates. Which one will it be? The redhead is clearly in love with you, but the short one looks like he could be a bit more of a challenge."

"Say wha?”

"My dear boy. Which one of them are you going to fuck first?"

"Fuck? One of them? What are you crazy?"

Ethan laughed. "Sex can be a powerful bonding force. Not just socially, but also mystically." He paused. "Do you even know how to fuck?"

"Of course I do. I used to fuck my girlfriend senseless."

"Ah, senseless. What a lovely way to fuck. Depriving the other person of all reason, all ability to even feel, turning the person into a mere object for your pleasure. Delightful isn't it?" He had slowly moved closer so his body was almost touching Warren's, his breath hot on Warren’s face.

Warren looked around wildly.

"Oh don't worry, my dear boy. No one can see us. We are surrounded by a simple glamour which makes it appear that the wall of the room is right, there -- " He turned and extended his arm almost all the way, palm up as though miming a wall. "So you see, there is no need to worry that anyone will interrupt us. Now, where were we?" He unbuttoned Warren’s pants, slid his cock out, held it in his hand.

"Stop,” whispered Warren.

"I can offer you access to power you haven't even dreamt of yet."

“Maybe I don't want your power," Warren choked out.

"Do you take me for a fool, boy? That's the only thing you've ever wanted." Ethan had unbuttoned his own pants now. "I never said this was a business proposition, you know." He pulled out a condom, put it on, then some lube. "Though of course, in a way, it is. I get what I want -- " He pulled Warren’s pants down to his knees. "And then you can have what you want." He thrust into him, and Warren gasped.

Ethan pulled a business card out of an inner pocket in his suit jacket and placed it in the breast pocket of Warren’s shirt. "Give me a call. Anytime."

Warren pulled his pants back up and Ethan waved away the glamour, disappearing into the crowd.

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