Improv: butter, calming, leniency, grateful
Disclaimer: Not mine, never were, yadda, yadda, a thousand times yadda.
Feedback: Por favor.
Author's Notes: This was supposed to be for a past Improv, but I didn't finish it, and then for another one, but I didn't finish it then, and, well, now it's for this one. Songfic, kinda. Blame Bono and Ryan Adams.
This is for Rabid, carino, querida, dulce de mi corazon. Many hugs to her for the wicked quick beta. Due to incessant tweaking any mistakes are mine alone.
When the Stars Go Blue
"Because I don't."
"Bugger that. I've seen you."
"The Bloody Bronze! Where else? Cutting a rug to 'ell and back with Anyanka you were."
"Why? Cause I'm a bloke?"
"I don't DANCE Spike!" Xander exclaimed, which was, of course, a lie. Walking ahead of the vampire and breaking cardinal Scooby rule # 4: Never walk by yourself farther than your patrol partner can catch up with you in a heartbeat, he refused to turn around and meet Spike's baby blues. He knew they held bruised confusion beneath the defiant anger, and if he saw that he'd cave, and he didn't want to.
He used to dance. He'd danced with Willow or Buffy at the Bronze, in high school and he and Anya had actually taken a class for the wedding-that-never-was. Swing music of all things, but he found he liked twirling and spinning his short fiancée to the beat of the trumpets, her pretty face pink with exertion and a wide, happy smile. He used to daydream of what they'd look like on The Big Day: he in his tux, she in her white dress gracefully stepping through classic Glenn Miller. The memory had obviously not been enough to entice him to go through with the nuptials.
After getting back to the apartment Spike had been unnaturally silent and Xander tried his best to joke and touch his lover of one year, the mantra playing in his head like a non-stop recording: don't make me talk about it don't make me talk about it.
Because, really, he wasn't sure what he'd say. It was all jumbled together inside like a big ball of baggage: betrayal, Anya's coolness upon realizing he and Spike had gotten together, the whole back-to-the-demon-fold thing with her, self-consciousness, both at how he would measure up next to Spike and, okay, how he'd feel dancing with a guy. There, he'd thought it. Acceptance was the first step to recovery, or something like that. .
Because he'd seen Spike dance. He remembered the first time clearly, not because it was any special occasion or anything, because he'd been so far in the closet at that point he'd visited Narnia, but because he'd been all prepared to laugh his ass off.
"Is that Spike dancing?" Buffy had said, as they lounged around their table at The Bronze, the final word in vocal italics with disbelief. Xander looked over his shoulder, a sarcastic comment waiting on his tongue, dying on the air as he spotted the white blond vampire on the dance floor.
Spike moved like sex in leather, primal and liquid, each line of the whipcord slim body in rhythm with the pulsing techno beat, each muscle flexing with the moves because the famed duster was nowhere in sight. He might have been the vamp but the look on his Goth girl partner said she'd like to eat him for lunch, possibly literally.
"H-he's really good." Tara said into the silence as they all stared at the couple now surrounded by a circle of enthusiastic club goers, and way to understate Tara.
Spike danced with abandon, eyes never leaving his partner's face, hips thrusting in time with the music, and Goth Girl sidled up to him, in him, pale hands with dragon lady nails raking over the hard chest, around his waist, down to cup his ass and a cheer and hoots of appreciation rose from the crowd. A predatory grin curved Spike's lips and he fit between the girl's thighs in one graceful move, knee riding past the crotch of her black bell bottoms, and now Goth girl looked like she might devour Spike right there on the dance floor as they humped to the synthesizers. Well, Goth girl humped. Spike never lost the inner rhythm as chipped nailed hands ran lightly over his partners arms into the lank sweep of bright burgundy hair and up, up into the smoke and heat, still busting moves. Xander wondered if he should warn the vampire he was dancing with a piranha, but hey, maybe they'd hook up.
"Skanky much?" Buffy quipped in distaste and Willow and Tara made agreeable sounds, but no one's eyes left the couple. Xander caught himself wondering, inexplicably, if the girl wore underwear, and if Spike did, and he babbled on hoping to hide the blush that threatened to sprout on his cheeks.
"Aren't demons supposed to be all low with the profile? Won't Spike lose his evil union card or something?"
"I guess since the chip he's more quasi-demony." Willow offered, then. "Do you think that girl's okay? I mean, yeah, chip, but still, vampire..."
"Oh, she's okay." Buffy replied dryly and they all watched as Spike spun the girl on the last riff of the song, and pull her back, hands just below the swell of her breasts, mouth near her ear.
"Well, I've had enough of Fred and Ginger." Buffy rolled her eyes. "Off for something fruity, possibly with an umbrella. Anyone want?"
"Beer." Xander tried to croak through his parched throat and ignored the surprised glances. He was a soda guy, usually, but he so needed something stronger right now.
"Sure." Buffy said brightly, and headed towards the bar.
Xander glanced at the dance floor but the show was over, and glancing around he saw Spike and Goth girl on their way out, his arm thrown careless around her shoulders while her hand caressed his ass.
He'd never had a girl caress his ass like that in public. Probably never WOULD have a girl caress his ass in public like that. Anya had been but a faint blip on his radar then, and even so, his ex-fiancée had drawn the line at "inappropriate displays of tacky affection" though she had not draw the line at much else. And there was the whole finding of the ass in his stylin' baggy-is-best mix and matches which were miles from Spike's sprayed on jeans molding the slim hips below the neat, tucked in black t-shirt, and had they EVER seen the vampire without that damned duster?
"Here you go." Buffy lay a frosted mug of hops and yeast in front of him while sipping daintily at her own Screwdriver, and he picked up the sweating glass up with one hand and drained half, eyes still on the door the couple of the evening had walked out of. Laying it down with a sigh of relish he turned away to see three pairs of eyes regarding him quizzically.
"Are you okay Xander?" Willow asked, and he'd flushed at the attention, went on babble mode without even thinking until they laughed with him. He didn't even know what he said, but Tara drove him home that night, accepting the keys he proffered at her like a good little boy, a sympathetic look in her sleepy eyes.
He'd jerked off that night faster than usual, and the images behind his fluttering lids had been of a sculpted chest, defined arms and that evil, nasty smile as he danced.
Such slices of his youth henceforth conspired to bring him to this night where he sat awkwardly beside Spike as his lover flipped through channels with a vacant stare.
"Forget it." The resigned tone made him feel like ten kinds of shit and he moved over next to the cool body, clad in black boxer shorts and a white tank. "Din' want to dance with your flabby arse anyhow. Can dance with anyone I bloody want."
"I know." Xander whispered into a shell of an ear, hand smoothing over firm muscle to find a nipple and trace it, barest touch of fingertips.
"I'm a bloody good dancer, 'f you must know. Had to turn 'em away left and right, drove Dru right off her....head. Always had a partner..."
"I know." Xander said against the elegant sweep of neck as his hand slowly pulled up the tank top to slip beneath, playing over the ridges of abs before dipping south to the rapidly hardening presence hiding in the black cotton.
"Always...I..." The syllable cracked as Xander fisted the velvet steel in his palm, thumb brushing the weeping slit and Spike's head lolled back stretching his throat so pretty in the blue television light Xander had to mouth the delicate Adam's apple and suck.
"God, Xander." Rough, deep, helpless voice that shot his lust off the scales every time and he curled into Spike like a giant Xander-cat, rubbing himself on Spike's hip, hooking one leg over vampire's as he carefully removed the throbbing erection from the confines of the boxers and slowly, slowly, slid down the foreskin to reveal the dusky pink head shining with liquid. Spike's hands clenched on the fabric of the couch, each muscle taut with tension and want and Xander licked quick tastes on the hollow of Spike's throat. "Please, pet..."
"Anything you want." He whispered in Spike's ear, and the vampire spasmed with a low moan, eyes going bright and so hungry. "Right now." Lick. "Any way." Lick. "Anywhere." Blow. "In me. On me. Bent over..."
With a ragged snarl Spike pushed him into his lap, damp cotton and crisp curls at his lips and Xander opened wide, took him whole, swallowed him. The body arched with a hoarse cry, thrust hard into his mouth, fist tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck that worked him up and down on the pulsing shaft, no apologies, no leniency, just in, pump, in. Xander moaned at the sounds Spike made, breathy gasps that went higher and higher with each pump, fumbled at his own screaming cock because this was supposed to be for Spike, but, oh, he was so hard, skin burning as Spike used his mouth, violated it with such intensity his lover must have been holding back before, must have.
Felt the elastic of his sweatpants yanked cruelly back from where he lay twisted mostly on his stomach, down below his hips, and he felt exposed, bare, face flaming as Spike switched hands to knead desperate handfuls of ass, grazing into his cleft so suddenly Xander jerked in surprise, got a push on his head that drove Spike's cock into his gullet.
Finger between his cheeks, pushing, insistent, and he had a second to feel grateful the finger was kind of wet, realize the sounds Spike made didn't even sound human anymore, when the intrusion breeched him in one thrust and he yelled around the erection in his mouth, sucked harder through the burning pain that somehow felt good, so good, illicit and blunt. Second finger, scissoring in him, pulling him open and he moaned, sped up his mouth, though it hurt now, pulled frantically at himself, so much pre-come his hand was coated. Spike was close, he could feel the all over tremors that began, could hear the mumbled phrases around the animalistic sounds.
"Fuck, yeah, in you, almost, uh, love, love this..." Xander blinked tears out of his eyes as the fingers in him kept pumping, buttery and slick now, and Spike's hand left the top of his head to dig into the boxers, pulled twice on his scrotum and yelled, quaking and trembling. Thick spurts of come hit the back of his throat and he moaned, then gasped around the cock still in his mouth as the fingers found that spot, sensitive bundle of nerves, brushed it ruthlessly, and he groaned out his climax, hips straining upward, legs struggling to open wider and his hot seed spurting onto his hand to the wrist.
He lifted off Spike's softening erection and rested his head on the heaving abs, unable to move, think, just being as the remnants of himself lay in pieces at Spike's feet. His sweatpants still pushed to below his ass he just couldn't bring himself to care, felt gentle, slim fingers card through his hair, and he began to cry for no reason at all.
Xander felt his pants pulled up, himself pulled up and held tightly, soft, calming kisses at his temple, on his mouth and he tasted coolness, traces of smoke and the chocolate they'd snacked on earlier.
"Did I hurt you?" Spike whispered, voice concerned, and Xander lifted his eyes to the amazing sky blue, shaking his head.
"No! God, no. It's just..." He took in a trembly breath, "Intense. So...strong." He ended, at a loss to describe how what they'd just done make him feel. Spike smiled faintly at him, fingers playing about Xander's face.
"Yeah. I know."
"I love you." Xander said with a fierceness he couldn't explain. "I love you so damned much."
"Love you, too, pet." Spike said, features pleased and a little amused. Earlier tiff if not forgotten, forgiven; everything right with the world.
But Xander hadn't forgotten.
The singer to the band stepped up just as Spike leaned over to line up a shot, cigarette dangling from pink lips in true JD fashion.
"We don't usually do requests but they gave us money." The girl said with affable good cheer. "This is for Spike." Xander watched his lover's mouth fall open as he looked over his shoulder, eight ball scratching in truly admirable fashion. Walking over he plucked the cigarette from Spike's mouth, ground it out in a handy nearby ashtray, handed the pool stick to the avidly curious frat boy Spike had been hustling, and took his lover's hand to lead him to the dance floor.
"You can close your mouth any time now, Fangless." He said as he placed one of Spike's listless hands at his waist and threaded his fingers through the other while he started to sway. Unfortunately, the slimmer man stood rooted to the floor so it was like trying to dance with a wall.
"Why did you do this?" Spike asked, brilliant blue eyes puzzled as they studied his, and Xander shrugged, letting the dumb grin break all over his face
"I owed you a dance." Dark lashes narrowed to slits then shifted sideways as a muffled giggle rose above the music.
"Everyone's bloody starin.'" His lover muttered, at least starting to move a bit to Xander's white boy shuffle.
"Yeah." He said. "I know."
Spike's chin lifted and they played with each other's stare a while as other couples drifted onto the dance floor. A slow, knowing smile stretched those pink, slightly pouted lips and the motionless hand on his waist suddenly encircled him in a confident hold, cool hand splayed on the small of his back. Spike's forefinger traveled up his arm leaving a line of tingles in it's wake until it cradled Xander's larger, roughened palm in a gentle hold, as if it was precious, and suddenly he wasn't just stepping to the music, he was flowing through it, letting the firm pressure of Spike's hands guide him this way and that, never dropping his lover's eyes, drowning in the blue.
As the last chords of the mournful Irish violin sounded Spike leaned him back in a slow dip, arm securely anchoring his waist, and Xander's lashes fluttered as the cool, soft lips of his lover brushed over his.
Scattered clapping and a whistle or two made them both open their eyes and cast each other sheepish smiles as they stood amidst the couple starting to gyrate to the beat of the next song.
"Thanks for the dance, ey?" Spike inclined his head a fraction and Xander nodded back. "You know 'course this Nancy boy wailin' doesn't get you out of any real dancin', right?"
"Oh, yeah." Xander threw his arm around Spike's neck with a smile and a sigh as they walked off the dance floor towards home. "I know."
"Just gettin' that up front." Spike quirked an eyebrow at him, and as Xander started to laugh from the bursting rightness in his chest, he felt a cool, nimble hand tuck into the back pocket of his jeans and start to stroke.
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