Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 8,500+
Disclaimer: Not mine
Warnings: Graphic sex.
Written for: [info]highlander_ii, as a [info]btvs_santa gift.
A/N: Many thanks to [info]highlander_ii for requesting a fic with lots and lots of sex! I'd never written explicit sex before, and now I have... lots of it! *g* The title comes from the song "Hush" by Deep Purple.

Thanks and *hugs* to my absolute hero of a beta, [info]electricalgwen.

What happened in the BtVS S4 episode "Hush" after Xander tied Spike up for the night and turned out the light? The relevant clip from "Hush" can be found here

In So Deep


Post-breakup retail therapy. Xander’s game, the first Saturday and the second, and even the third. But it’s been four weeks of moping, and thanks to that bout of accidental spellcasting, he’s still jumping out of his skin at every unexpected noise.

And now—thank you, Giles—his life is further complicated by the fact there’s a vampire not four feet away from his bed.

Tied up. On the off chance that Willow’s will isn’t done being done.

That’s why he’s absolutely not going to the mall with Buffy and Willow tomorrow. Willow can wallow without him. Not that he begrudges her the wallowing. But any wallowing that ends with Xander getting mauled by a demon is just unacceptable.

Well, except Anya. But that’s technically ex-demon maulage, so that’s okay. Okay, but also over. Leaving Xander, to complete the set, orgasmless. “O” words—they’ve been very useful lately. For example, occupation, which is something he has now, and opulence, which is something he doesn’t.

And while both of those things had been obstacles in his relationship with Anya, neither of them accounted for the over. The real reason he’d agreed so readily with Anya’s offhand declaration that their relationship was over actually had a bit to do with yet another “O” word: Oxnard.

Specifically, with a certain observation that he’d made while in Oxnard.

An observation of the Oh shit! I’m gay! variety.

Of course, that was just the catchy slogan. What he’d actually said—“Huh, I think I’m kinda bisexual. Go me!”—just didn’t have the same ring. And what he’d done—shared one accidental kiss with one guy—didn’t exactly make him an expert in the subject, and it certainly hadn’t inspired him to seek out men instead of women.

He had, however, left Oxnard inspired to consider thinking about seeking out men in addition to women.

Baby steps of gayness.

And then Anya happened. Like a natural disaster or an act of God. She came in, slapped a PROPERTY OF ANYA sticker on Xander’s head, and that was that.

He traded options for orgasms.

And then, this afternoon, somewhere between “What do I mean to you?” and “I need to be a priority in your life!” he traded back.

It had something to do with the relationship being over if Xander wasn’t ready to start placing Anya in a position of equal or greater importance than… something, which was apparently the next logical phase of their relationship and slightly overdue.

Whether she’d really meant it, the world may never know.

There was a small window of opportunity, and his mouth had barreled through unchaperoned, agreeing immediately to the breakup she’d proposed.

His brain, in a show of good faith, later offered a pardon for all previous offenses committed by said mouth.

And now he’s ready to consider thinking about seeking out men in addition to women once again.

The thing is, it’s a big field he’s thinking about playing, and there’s a pink elephant sitting smack in the middle of it, staring him down.

This Dumbo’s got a name.

The penis.

Xander’s somewhat lacking in the penis experience. Which sounds like some bizarre gay theme park or a bad seventies health class film strip, and this is so not helping him with his problem.

His penis problem.

Specifically, Xander needs to clarify his feelings regarding the penis.

There were no penises in Oxnard. Well, there probably were, but none in the vicinity of Xander. At least, not in a fun, sexy way. Except his own, of course, but that doesn’t count. And while it was a guy who was responsible for Xander coming faster and harder than a fifteen year old on the wet end of a blow job on that particular occasion, it was an entirely penis-free scenario. Except, again, for Xander’s. Which, again, doesn’t count.

Xander likes his penis, though. They get along well. There’s a mutual respect thing going on. Which is why Xander’s taking the time to consider his penis’s feelings on the issue. Whether his penis likes other penises, because kissing is one thing, but a penis? That’s an entirely different matter.

He shifts it absently, wondering what it would feel like to touch one that wasn’t attached to him. He hardens slowly as a single fingertip traces a path to the head and back, and he wishes he could shut off the double ended sensation of touching his own body to really feel it straining against his boxers and rising to meet the short fingernail dragging down its length.

He wonders if the feel of someone else’s dick hardening in his grip would be sexy.

If it would be hot, gently grazing—just one fingertip—up and down the length as it hardens, then stroking the exposed underside from head to root before fisting gently, pumping slowly, then faster, harder, balls tightening—

He decides that it would be.


Or, as his brain puts it, “GUH!”


Something creaks.

Xander freezes.

His hand and his penis have been having a hell of a conversation, and no one invited his brain.

If anyone had, his brain might have said, “Hey, Xander! This is your brain. This is your brain in bed four feet away from a vampire. Any questions?”

And now, Xander’s halfway there and faced with that eternal dilemma: to come or not to come? That is the question. His dick’s got an answer, but it’s the predictable one, and he’s not sure his dick’s really trustworthy in this situation, anyway.

With a look at Spike, he’s about to mind-over-matter his cock into submission, and then it happens.

It twitches.

His eyes sweep a path around the darkened room and then land on Spike once again.


It’s almost like his dick is trying to tell him something.

Something like, “Timmy’s stuck in the well!”

Or, “Yes, Xander, you were flirting with Spike before bed, and yes, the way he rolled his hips when he called you a nummy treat was the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen, and how is it that you’re just catching on to this now?”

Xander doesn’t have an answer. His brain’s called a time out to review the instant replay.

All right, yeah—

Spike’s hips, thrusting upward…


…and back down…

—you’re a nummy treat—

…and thrusting again, rolling…

And Xander’s hips are thrusting and rolling right along with the replay, but he’s not touching because Spike’s sleeping less than four feet away and him waking up to this would just be unbearably—

“Don’t stop on account of me, Harris. You were just getting to the good part.”

Xander does what any sane person would do in this situation.

He panics.

He freezes.

His hips are thrust upwards, his hand is just inches from his dick, and there’s a tent the size of Mt. Everest rising from his groin.

He’s caught.

He’s busted.


Sleeping! He’s sleeping. He snorts, turns his back to Spike, and buries his face into the pillow with a throaty groan which, in retrospect, may have been ill-advised. Now all he has to do is stay still until Spike falls asleep. And possibly deal with Spike’s crazy British insults in the morning.

He wonders if masturbating in your sleep and then not remembering it the next morning is a thing. He decides that it is.

It’s like sleepwalking.

It’s sleepwanking!

Yep, that’s his story, and he’s sticking—

“Harris. Do you know what happens when people sleep?”

Xander doesn’t answer. Sleeping people don’t answer stupid questions.

“First, your breathing evens out. Gets all soft. Your heart rate slows, your blood runs thinner. Your body cools down.”

Xander concentrates on his breathing.





“You’ve been over there, tremblin’ and gaspin’ all night. Can hear your heart pumping, your blood running, fast and thick. Can hear it making you hard.”

Xander feels like his heart is beating into a megaphone, fast and loud, and he has no idea how to slow it down, so he just breathes some more.

“Can’t tell me you were dreaming. There’s a thing about dreams… not a lot of muscle control.”

And now he’s lost count of his breaths because… muscle control?

“You can get excited. Get your blood pumping. Get hard. But you can’t grab your cock.”

Xander’s breathing a little harder now.

“Can’t stroke it the way you were doing.”

And wondering if Spike would notice if he moved his hand just a few inches to the left.

“Can’t tease it…”

Spike’s voice drops, and everything that Xander has that’s capable of standing on end does.

“Drag your fingertip down the length of it…”

Xander can feel the taut fabric of his cheap cotton boxers as his cock surges against them, and God help him, if Spike keeps talking…

“Graze it with a fingernail…”

Spike is now speaking directly to Xander’s dick, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

“Get it hard as it’s ever been…”

His voice is deep and slow, and he’s taking unnecessary breaths in time with Xander’s. Xander’s desperate to do all kinds of things that sleeping people don’t do, but he manages to remain still.

“Can’t do any of those things. Can’t wrap your fingers around it…”

And Xander’s imagining fingers wrapping around his cock.

“Move ‘em up and down…”

A cool hand, moving up and down.

“Find a rhythm…”

Preternatural speed.

“Drag your thumb over the head…”

And he whimpers.

“Can’t do it. Because you’re sleeping.”

Because he’s not sleeping, and he’s never been this hard in his life.

“Now, if you were awake, we could…”

And Xander does what any male person would do in this situation.

He comes hard and cries out a word that doesn’t exist in any language he knows.

Yeah, he’s awake.

Awake and wondering if this counts as his second bisexual experience. His second penis-free bisexual experience.

He’s also wondering what the hell just happened.

He can’t remember whether he even touched himself, but he’s got a feeling he didn’t. He’s got a feeling he just got talked off by Spike.

And that is just disturbing beyond belief.

In a surprisingly okay way.

“All better, then? Not gonna keep me up with your breathing and your naughty touching anymore?”

“Shut up, Spike.” It’s just the first in a long line of things he wants to say, but it’s the most important. Damage control.

“Couldn’t sleep, with all the—”

“Shut up. I mean it. If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I’ll tell them you thralled me.”

Spike smirks—Xander can hear it, even though he hasn’t turned around yet—and chuckles. “I did, did I?”

“You know what I mean.” Xander keeps his tone serious because the suppression of this information is critical, but his brain is organizing a list of questions for later, starting with What the fuck was that?

“Tell ‘em all you want. That’s Dru’s game, not mine.”

“Yeah, well ask yourself this,” Xander says, and he wants to turn around, but he doesn’t because he doesn’t think he can wear a stern expression right now. “Which one of us are they going to believe?”

He’s all afterglowy.

And a hell of a lot less freaked than he should be.

Which is freaky in and of itself.

“Suit yourself, then.” And Xander turns. “This can just be our dirty little secret, if that’s the way you want it.” And Spike’s wearing that look. That head tilted, eyes narrowed, thing-he-does-with-his-tongue look, and Xander realizes something.

“Hey, you were breathing pretty heavy yourself, there, buddy.” He gets out of bed, intending to unsticky himself.

“Was just setting the mood is all.”

“Right,” Xander says, and instead of heading for the bathroom, he grabs a bottle out of the liquor cabinet that time forgot and sits on the edge of the bed.

Spike’s sporting his very own Mt. Everest, and he’s got no way to hide it.

Xander takes a swig of whatever this is that his father bought and hid away in 1983 and considers his options.

He could just go to sleep, threaten Spike a little more in the morning, and forget this ever happened. Or he could take this opportunity to figure a few things out. And then go to sleep, threaten Spike a little more in the morning, and forget this ever happened.

Kind of a no brainer.

And since Xander’s brain hasn’t been of much use to him over the past few hours anyway, he decides it’s a good plan.

He starts with the bottle. Funny how he’s pissed demons off for years trying to kill them, but he’s only reaching for the liquid courage now that he’s about to make one happy.

“Not gonna offer me any, I suppose?”

And Xander can’t even begin to explain where this comes from, but he slides off the bed and onto his knees in front of Spike. He looks up and tilts his head, and his voice is barely a whisper when he says, “Offer you any what?”

Spike’s breath—breath, again—catches, and it’s the sexiest thing Xander’s ever seen, narrowly supplanting the earlier hip rolling. His dick apparently thinks so too, because he’s suddenly rock hard.

Xander runs a hand up and down Spike’s leg, stopping before he reaches Spike’s cock, teasing himself as much as Spike.

“Wait, Harris… you can’t… I can’t… this isn’t a—”

“Shut up, Spike.”

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

Xander sighs and sits back on his heels. “Yeah. I’m jerking a vampire off in my parents’ basement. This isn’t a wedding, Spike. It’s just… sex.”

“Oh.” Spike grins slowly. “In that case…”

“Well I can’t now,” Xander says, pulling his legs out in front of him and leaning back against the bed. “You ruined the mood.” And brought Mr. Brain back into play. It’s just sex? What the hell was that?

Spike’s wearing an expression that’s halfway between I could kill you and is everything okay? and the voice—the one that Xander’s calling “the sex voice” in his head, and he really wishes he could find another name for it—is back when he speaks. “I’m sure we could do something about that.”

“It’s your fault. I was all on board with the doing, but then you made me think.”

Spike snorts. “Try not to hurt yourself.”

“It’s not a joke.” Xander’s not sure where his bravado’s gone, but he thinks it was a heat of the moment thing, and he’s starting to feel pretty chilly.

It’s just sex. Gay sex. Gay vampire sex. And sure, it’d be gay vampire sex of the biteless variety, and it’s not like he’d be the first of his friends to try it—well, the vampire part, anyway—but still. Gay vampire sex.

There’s not one part of it that’s not a problem.

Starting from the top, there’s the gay. Xander’s not gay. Sure, he thinks guys are hot, and for the sake of discussion, he’s willing to pretend that this isn’t the first time he’s admitted that. And kissing a guy was beyond hot, and whatever it was that he just did with Spike—well, that was incredible. But moving beyond all that into the gay sex… the gay sex in which he’s a participant… that’s a big step. The biggest. That makes it real, and Xander’s suddenly not convinced he’s ready for it to be real.

Also, vampire. Hello, mortal enemy anyone? And not just any vampire. No, it’s got to be one who’s tried to kill almost everyone he knows! And not in a funny oops, look what I almost did kind of way. No, Spike’s more the I vant to suck your blood type. Just without the accent. Well, with an accent, actually, but the sexy British kind. He’s got all those sexy British words, too. And now that he’s admitting that guys are hot, he might as well confess that Spike is his type. Hell, Spike is everyone’s type, what with the cheekbones, and the eyes, and the lips—lips which cover sharp vampire teeth, and even if he’s bite-free, isn’t there something fundamentally wrong with having the hots for a vampire?

And then, there’s the sex. Xander’s a guy—and thus, is not to be held accountable for the actions of or inspired by his penis—but that doesn’t mean he approves of just sex. That’s not to say that he hasn’t done it, or that he hasn’t enjoyed it. Most of his little romp with Faith was really hot, and that girl in Oxnard was something else, but he’d like to be better than that. He’d like to be the kind of guy that gets to know a person first. The kind of guy that buys a vampire a beer and a game of pool before he grabs his—

“Harris. I can hear you thinking.”


“What’s that little pea brain of yours going on about now?”

“Nothing. I was just thinking.” Xander moves from the floor back to the bed, avoiding the wet spot on the sheets. He brings his bottle with him and takes another swig.

“Yeah, we’ve established that. What about?”

“Do you care?” He rests the bottle cleanly on the nightstand on the second try, and he thinks he might be a little tipsy.

“Bollocks,” Spike says quietly, and then adds, “No.”

Xander listens to the clock tick for a minute before he asks, “What is your thing?”

“Gonna need a bit more than that, Xander.”

“You said you can’t do the thrall thing, so what can you do?”

“Do you care?” Spike mimics Xander’s tone but doesn’t wait for an answer. “What, you want to see something? Fine, watch here.”

Xander hears a little crunching sound, and he watches as Spike’s brow curves into ridges, his eyes turn yellow, and fangs descend. The transformation is kind of mesmerizing, now that Xander watches it, and the end result really… isn’t ugly. It’s different, it’s a little creepy and a lot inhuman, but it’s still Spike. Still a beautiful face.

It reminds Xander of those filmstrips from seventh grade science class, the ones with the animals that adapt and change. His favorites were the blowfish—he’ll never understand how anyone can resist the blowfish—and those rabbits who go from brown in the summer to white in the winter to blend in. And see, bunnies. That’s another option he has now that Anya’s out of his life.

“Xander. Harris! What are you doing?” Spike asks, eyebrows—human now—raised.

“Would getting a bunny make me gay?” Xander literally claps a hand over his mouth—his brain will not be issuing any pardons for that one—and giggles.

“I’m never going to get any sleep, am I?” Spike walks over to the nightstand and grabs Xander’s bottle.

“You’re nocturnal.”

“Can’t be, living with you lot. You’ve all got this disgusting habit of clanging around first thing in the morning. Makes it impossible to sleep.” Spike sits on the edge of the bed and drinks deeply from the bottle.

“Hey, gimme that!” Xander grabs for the half empty bottle, but Spike holds it out of reach. “Hey…”

Xander looks at Spike and then at the chair and back again. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

Spike snorts. “You’ve had quite enough.”

“You said you wouldn’t bite me!” Xander blurts, and he thinks maybe he has had enough.

“And have I bitten you?”


“And am I currently biting you?”

“No. But you could! Except, you know, I guess you can’t. But you could still… think about it, and that’s creepy! And who untied you, anyway?”

“For Christ’s sake Harris, you were sitting right here! You wanted to see something… I showed you the vampire strength and flexibility… ring any bells?”

“Flexibility?” Xander asks, and realizes that’s not an answer. “Wait, when you went all… grr? Hey, you broke the ropes? Those were my ropes!”

“Still your ropes. Just in more pieces. Why d’you think the watcher keeps me in chains?” Spike smirks. “And for the record, I’m not thinking about biting you.” Spike downs the rest of the bottle, and adds under his breath, “Not in any way you don’t want to be bitten.”

“Hey, buddy! I do not want to be bitten!”

Spike turns surprised eyes on Xander—“Oh, that you hear? You miss the whole show…”—and they’re so blue, even in the darkened basement. And kind of… angled in a way that really compliments his cheekbones. Which are, without a doubt, the hottest cheekbones Xander’s ever seen, and he doesn’t usually think of cheekbones in that way. And the way his cheeks hollow underneath them—Xander suddenly needs to know what Spike would look like sucking on something, and he knows he’s got something, somewhere…

“Yeah, uh-huh,” he says, just to keep the conversation going as he gets up and crosses to a box of leftover Halloween candy that’s resting on top of the mini-fridge. Tootsie Pop or Blow Pop? Another no brainer.

Xander settles back onto the bed, sitting cross-legged in front of Spike, and focuses his attention on the wrapper of the Blow Pop.

“Harris, are we having a conversation here?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Then what did I just say?”

“Huh? Oh, that I heard you. About the biting.”

Spike opens his mouth to respond, and Xander shoves the unwrapped Blow Pop inside.


Shoves it in a little too far, actually, and Spike chokes in surprise, which, one, isn’t something Xander thought was possible, and two, is really, really hot.

Which is actually really disturbing in a not okay way.

“I think there’s something wrong with me,” Xander says abruptly, and scoots up to the top of the bed.

“Damn right! Christ, have you gone soft in the head?”

And for all he’s confused by what he’s thinking and weirded out by how he’s acting and freaked at what he just did to Spike, he can’t resist looking down at his hardened cock and saying, “Nope. Not yet.”

And giggling.

It’s high-pitched and harsh, and Xander’s pretty sure the tail end of it may have been a sob.

“What the fuck am I doing?”

Spike sighs and sticks the Blow Pop in his mouth. Xander was right. The sucking is good. “Tonight, Harris, you have tied me up, kept me awake to the sound of you jerking off, had the bloody orgasm of your life with only the sound of my voice to guide you, blackmailed me, got on your knees for me, changed your mind about it, asked me to show you my special skills, missed said display even though you were staring right at it, gotten yourself smashed, and shoved a lolly down my throat. That about sum it up?”

“Yeah,” Xander snorts. “And no, not at all.”

“How drunk are you, Harris?”

“Uh, a little less, now,” he answers. “I think.”

“Then seeing as you’ve been such a tease and I’ve been good enough not to eat you, would you mind telling me why exactly you’ve ruined my night?”

Xander works diligently at wrapping a loose thread from his pillowcase around his finger.

Spike sighs. “Oh, bloody—you can’t even say it, can you? Fine, then. Make some coffee or whatever and clean yourself up, and I’ll tell you whatever it is that you think you need to know.”

Xander looks up from his string. “About the big gay sex?”

Spike puts the Blow Pop back in his mouth.

“Are we both just gonna pretend that I didn’t say that?”

Spike sucks.


Xander puts the coffee on and heads for the bathroom. A quick once over with a wet cloth would do it, but he wants a little more time to think about what’s happened, so he gets in the shower.

The cold water is sobering.

Anya’s gone. And yeah, that’s still okay. It wasn’t what he’d planned, but he really had been interested in exploring his options before she came along. And now…

Well, now he doesn’t know what’s going on.

He’s established that men turn him on. That Spike just talking is enough to get him off. And aside from the general embarrassment of being caught jerking off and having Spike finish the job like that, he’s okay with it. The guy part of it, anyway.

As stupid as it sounds, the evening didn’t veer off into crazyland until after that. After the blackmail, which—totally necessary, by the way, and good thinking, Xander! since no one else is saying it.

It’s just—Spike had been undeniably hard. For him. And the breathing, and that look on his face… and Xander had wanted him. Wanted him in a way that went beyond rational thought, and when Spike had snapped him back to reality, he’d hit it hard.

It’s just sex.

Big gay vampire sex. There’s really nothing just about it. But the thing is, Xander’s pretty sure he’s never been more turned on than when he was in the moment with Spike. And beyond that, Spike’s obvious arousal had made him feel sexy, and that’s the first time that’s ever happened. Girls are a mystery, you could flounder around for days not knowing if you’re doing anything right, but with a guy… well, the evidence is right there.

And Xander likes the evidence.

He’d very much like to approach the bench and introduce himself to the evidence.

He’d also like the room to stop spinning.

He gets out of the shower and starts his never list. Never going to drink whatever that was again. Never going to…


He can’t actually think of another thing that he regrets.

Except the Blow Pop incident, but he figures that’s covered under the drinking. Plus, Spike is fine, and there’s just no way Xander can regret watching him suck on it.

And Xander’s not sure what all this means, but he’s sober enough to think and drunk enough to be honest, and he thinks that may be an okay combination.

He towels his hair and comes to some conclusions. He likes guys. Maybe even a little more than girls, or maybe it’s just that the guy thing is new. He likes Spike—physically, anyway. And maybe he just plain likes him, but that’s too freaky to deal with right now, so it gets filed away.

Or not.

Because now it’s on his mind.

Spike’s been… decent. Well, the whole sex voice incident—and Xander has got to find a new name for it—was kind of evil, but it’s not like he didn’t enjoy it. And Spike hasn’t really made fun of him at all. He actually let himself be tied to a chair, didn’t break the ropes even though he could—well, until he did break them, but that’s different—and tried to stop Xander from…

Tried to stop Xander…

“You didn’t want me!” Xander bursts through the bathroom door into the basement, towel slung low on his hips and—

“You sure about that, mate?”

Spike’s sprawled across the foot of the bed, dick in hand.

And he’s breathing.


And biting his lower lip, and closing his eyes.

And he’s stroking rhythmically. And he’s not stopping.

And he’s—oh, God—moaning just a little as his thumb brushes over the head of his cock, and Xander’s sure he’s read somewhere that an uncircumcised penis is too sensitive to touch like that, although maybe it’s a vampire pain thing, and—

No. This time, Xander is absolutely putting his foot down. No more thinking. The basement has just been declared a brain-free zone.

To prove his point, he walks over and kneels on the floor at the foot of the bed. Spike opens his eyes, and they look at each other.

Xander’s got options, but he doesn’t consider them carefully because he knows what he wants to do. He drops the towel and fists his cock, matching Spike’s rhythm.

Spike sucks in a breath, and Xander’s glad Spike got a head start because Spike’s breathing goes straight to his dick and he’s suddenly not sure how long he can last.

The basement is silent except for the sound of their mingled breaths and Spike’s little noises, which Xander can only describe as kittenish, and no way in hell is anyone outside his head ever going to know that.

Spike strokes himself faster and Xander follows, but he knows he can’t keep it up for long, feeling Spike’s rhythm and imagining Spike’s hand on him. Spike closes his eyes and his mouth falls open, and Xander knows he’s close, too.

And he does what any crazy person would do in this situation.

He leans in, licks Spike’s bottom lip, and kisses Spike like he’s never kissed anyone before. He touches the tip of his tongue to Spike’s, explores Spike’s mouth and lets Spike do the same, and he runs his free hand through Spike’s hair. His hand strokes faster, on Spike’s cock now instead of his own, but that doesn’t keep him from coming when Spike does.

And that’s definitely Xander’s third bisexual experience.

Second with Spike.

First with someone else’s dick.

“You still drunk?” Spike looks wary.

“Kinda not.” Xander uses the towel to clean himself up, and then he uses it on Spike as well.

“And this…” It’s only half a question, and Xander’s not really sure where it’s headed.

“Gonna need a bit more than that, Spike.”

Spike sighs and sits up. “Just want to know that I’m not gonna be a pile of dust tomorrow is all.”

“You think I’m gonna—”

“Not you, you git. Your slayer and her little rag tag army.”

“Nah.” Xander smiles. “Besides, isn’t this our dirty little secret?”

Spike smirks, but there’s genuine relief in his eyes. “If that’s the way you want it.”

Xander gets up and grabs boxers and sweatpants from a drawer and retrieves his shirt from the bathroom. “I do have questions, though.” He pulls them on and brings the dirty towel to the washer. “I mean, I’m not freaked—I was, obviously…” He heads back to the drawer and grabs a second pair of sweatpants and throws them at Spike, whose jeans are still pooled at his ankles. “I don’t know what happened, but I think I’m cool now.”

Spike fixes his jeans, throws the sweatpants back at Xander, who just shrugs, and says, “D’you have any more of those pops?”

The corners of Xander’s mouth twitch and there’s a tingle in his groin as he makes his way over to the box and fishes out another Blow Pop.

“You were saying?” Spike asks as Xander sits on the bed and hands over the lollipop.

“I was…” Xander trails off as Spike finishes unwrapping the lollipop and licks it twice before sucking it into his mouth.

“You had questions.” Spike licks the lollipop once more and chuckles. “This time, the show’s for me,” he says, nudging Xander’s lips open with the lollipop and pushing it inside. “Note the lack of me choking you.”

Xander grabs the stick and pulls the lollipop out of his mouth, sucking a little for Spike’s benefit. “Sorry about that.”

Spike makes a dismissive noise and says, “I get to match you, question for question.”

“Fair enough,” Xander says. “Let’s start with why?

“Why what?”

“Why everything. Why’d you do… what you did, when you knew I wasn’t sleeping? And then why did you try to stop me from touching you? And when I was in the shower… And why on Earth did you let me tie you up when you knew you could just break the ropes?”

“I thought these were supposed to be questions about ‘the big gay sex’.

Xander ducks his head and blushes. “Yeah, well, sober me actually has fewer questions about that and more about… this. You’ve been… decent, and I just want to know why.”

“All comes down to dust, doesn’t it?”

“I’m not following you.”

“It’s simple, Harris. I spend one night here and you turn up all batty the next morning, that clan of yours’ll conspire to dust me for sure.”

“Oh, yeah. Wait. Huh?” Xander’s still not following. “What does that have to do with… what you did. Y’know.

Spike rolls his eyes. “Wasn’t lying. Really did want to sleep.”

“Oh.” Xander remembers the Blow Pop and sucks it back into his mouth. “But then you… after… y’know.”

“I got hard. Christ, Harris, how’re you ever going to do anything if you can’t even say the words?”

Xander sucks pointedly at Spike, and then says, “Just answer the question.”

“Don’t recall you asking one, mate.”

Xander pulls the Blow Pop out with a soft pop and teases it in and out of the threshold of his mouth a few times before swirling his tongue around the top of it and saying, word by word, “Why… did… you… get… hard?”

Spike breathes and Xander smiles.

“What do you think? Listening to you, watching you…”

“Then why’d you tell me to stop?”

“I didn’t, you nit! Was just making sure you knew what you were doing. Dust, remember?”

“Dust. And that’s why you were nice about—”

“Wasn’t nice.

“That’s why you weren’t a pain in the ass when I didn’t do it?”

Spike smirks. “I think the reason I wasn’t a pain in your ass has a bit more to do with you deciding that wasn’t on your agenda.”

“You know what I mean.”

Yes, Harris. Dust. Self preservation. Anything I do to you buys me a one way ticket. At the very least, I’m back out in the cold, and your watcher’s got a fine supply of blood, cash, and Weetabix.”

Anything you do?” And yeah, Xander’s flirting. And acknowledging that he’s flirting. And hoping Spike’s going to flirt back. And tonguing his Blow Pop.

“Thought we had a deal there, mate.” Spike’s voice is low and breathy and his attention is focused on the lollipop that’s making a sticky mess of Xander’s lips. “I don’t tell your friends… You don’t tell your friends…”

“Our dirty little secret,” Xander agrees softly. “Hey. When I was in the bathroom…”

“What d’you think, Harris?” Spike edges closer to Xander.

“Were you thinking about me?”

“’M not answering that.”

Xander smiles and flicks his tongue over the top of the lollipop again. “You haven’t asked any questions.”

“You done with your little identity crisis?”

Xander nods and Spike closes the distance between them.

“Sober?” he asks, his voice low and hoarse.

Xander nods again and Spike leans in and nips at his earlobe with blunt teeth. “You want this?” More nodding. “Then tell me.”

“I want this,” Xander whispers. “I want you.”

Spike takes the lollipop out of Xander’s hand and tosses it aside. “And no one’s gonna wake up dusted in the morning?”

Xander shakes his head.

And he does what any person would do in this situation.

He leans in and kisses Spike.

It’s chaste as far as kisses go, but it’s so soft that Xander forgets Sunnydale rule number one: never forget there’s a monster inside.

And then he remembers it.

And he doesn’t care.

“Spike,” he says quietly, taking in the man in front of him. The soft lips and tousled hair and harsh angles that somehow become soft lines when he loses the perpetual Big Bad attitude. Blue eyes so—


Xander refocuses on the conversation at hand.

“I think I may be gay.”

“Really…” Spike says, and there’s sarcasm but no bite. “D’you think we ought to test that theory?”

“Yeah,” Xander answers. “I really kinda do.”

“Well, all right then,” Spike says as he holds the back of Xander’s head and brings their lips together.

And this is when Xander realizes that he’s kissed Spike twice, but he’s never been kissed by Spike. Part of him would like to spend a minute considering that, but it’s not going to happen because Spike’s tongue is both forceful and delicate, and he explores Xander’s mouth with a kind of precision that’s got Xander up on his knees, making needy little noises that he’s never made before and desperate for friction on his cock.

And when that friction comes, in the form of Spike pressing his erection against Xander’s, Xander gasps and breaks the kiss.

Spike rolls his hips seductively for the second time that night, and Xander really wants to ask about the first time, but Spike’s hands are around his waist and he’s breathing hard and gasping every time Spike’s cock brushes his, and there’s just no room for words.

Xander’s used to being the stronger partner in bed—Faith notwithstanding—but he’s pretty sure it’s preternatural strength that’s responsible for the elegant repositioning that has Spike on top of him, balanced on strong arms and grinding his cock against Xander’s.

It’s friction like Xander’s never felt before, sloppy and right, and he realizes that there’s too much clothing involved. He arches his hips into Spike’s and tugs at Spike’s t-shirt.

Spike sits back on his heels, straddling Xander’s legs, and pulls the shirt off. Xander stares and gets rewarded with a lecherous grin. “Like what you see?”

“Oh yeah,” Xander says, barely above a whisper. Spike stands and folds his shirt and sets it aside. He kicks off his boots and adds his pants neatly to the pile, and Xander’s so focused on what the sight of Spike’s naked body is doing to his cock that he almost doesn’t think about how weird that is—but then he realizes that those might well be the only clothes Spike owns.

Though he’d rather not consider that.

Especially since Spike is back on his knees, straddling Xander’s legs once more, and he’s stroking himself in such an indulgent way that Xander’s pretty sure he’s going to come if he watches for too long.

Spike’s eyes close as his strokes speed up, and he sucks in air through his teeth and lets it out in a string of breathy noises that make Xander desperate to touch himself.

“Don’t.” Spike’s eyes are open again, and watching Xander’s hand creep toward his cock.

Xander’s breathing hard.

“Hold off, and I’ll make it worth your while,” Spike says, and the way he loses his breath in the middle of the sentence makes Xander ache with need.

Watching Spike this way is too much. His hips are moving involuntarily, his left hand is twisting the sheets, and if he can’t touch himself, he’s going to touch something.

Which is why his right hand is cupping Spike’s balls, and he suddenly finds himself locked in a stare with eyes so boyishly wide and filled with wonder that his heart skips a beat, and something inside of him that he didn’t know was frozen solid melts into a gooshy mess.

He teases a finger around Spike’s balls, and Spike lets out a little “Oh!” before splattering Xander’s sweatpants with long strings of come.

And he looks… embarrassed.

Which makes Xander want to cuddle him.

Which is something Xander’s not going to explore fully at the moment.

Xander sits up a bit and strips off his shirt. Spike still hasn’t moved, and he wonders if that’s a vampire afterglow thing. And then he finishes wondering if that’s a vampire afterglow thing, and Spike still hasn’t moved.

And it’s really only been a minute, but Xander’s thinking he doesn’t want anyone else to freak out tonight, so he kisses Spike.

And Spike kisses back.

And Xander thinks that maybe he has those magical fairy tale kissing powers that bring people back from deep slumber, and then he doesn’t think at all because Spike’s kissing his way down Xander’s neck.

He hits all the right spots in all the right ways and something is nagging at Xander, telling him there’s a reason for that—something that sounds a lot like Buffy—but he ignores it because Buffy’s not a welcome image right now, and hey, that’s new!

Spike shifts and his teeth graze a nipple and Xander’s hips shoot upwards. Spike chuckles, and then Xander’s sweats and boxers are pulled away, and there’s a hand on his cock.

A hand stroking in time with the kisses and nips Spike is leaving down his stomach, until suddenly, a cool tongue is tasting the tip of his cock, and as much as he’s desperate for more, he knows he can’t last.

“No,” he gasps, “I can’t—”

“Sure, you can,” Spike says, and a cool thumb and forefinger firmly encircle the base of Xander’s cock. The urgency fades, and why in God’s name has no one ever shown him that trick before?

Spike keeps his hand in place and rasps his tongue over the head of Xander’s cock once more before swallowing him completely. Xander feels his dick hit the back of Spike’s throat, and Spike’s cheeks hollow as he sucks, and this is so much better than the Blow Pop.

Xander lets out a whimpering moan, a warning that even Spike’s grip on the base of his cock isn’t going to stop him from coming, and Spike eases off with one last lick up Xander’s length.

Xander’s trembling, and Spike’s hand stays in place, but he’s dusting feather light touches over Xander’s legs and balls with the other hand, and Xander relaxes a bit.

Spike’s hand slips from Xander’s cock as he shoves Xander’s pants off of his legs, and Xander bends one knee and says, “C’mere.”

He half expects Spike to snark about not following orders, but this is kind of a new situation for both of them, and Spike just settles in next to him, propped up on one elbow. It’s a good position because Xander can reach Spike’s dick—which is hard again, must be a vampire thing—and Spike’s mouth can’t reach his.

It’s not that he doesn’t want Spike’s mouth on his cock, because he does—like you wouldn’t believe—it’s just that if Spike swallows him again, he’s going to come, and he doesn’t really know what happens after that, so he’s all for putting it off a bit.

Plus, he’s not ready for this to end.

Of course, now that they’re face to face and no one’s touching anyone’s anything, Xander feels the talking coming on. And it’s as if Spike can tell, because he kisses Xander and the need to talk subsides.

Xander turns toward Spike because the kissing is nice, and he puts a hand on Spike’s hip. Spike answers with a hand on Xander’s cock, light teasing touches, and Xander should probably be embarrassed that Spike knows he likes that—at how Spike found out that he likes that—but he just can’t be, not when it feels so good.

Spike’s bringing him close to the edge again, and his hips are thrusting in time with his tongue when Spike’s other hand is suddenly—

“Whoa!” he says, mid-kiss. “Baby steps!”

And sure, it’s not the best thing he could have said, and Spike’s looking at him like he’s gone crazy again, but Spike’s finger is millimeters from being inside his ass, so his mouth is to be forgiven.

“Harris, I’m not sure what you want here, but if you’re asking me to spank you and change your dirty diapers, then we’re gonna have to go over the rules again.”

Xander grits his teeth and says quietly, “Baby steps of gayness.”


“Meaning that’s my plan.”

“Baby steps of gayness,” Spike says, like just checking. He furrows his brow at Xander and then bursts out laughing. “It’s times like this I wish I had friends so I could ring them and say ‘you’ll never believe what just came out of Harris’ mouth!’

And Xander would be really pissed right now if watching Spike laugh—really laugh—wasn’t so intoxicating.

Spike reaches toward the phone. “Actually, I think I’ll just ring your friends.”

“No!” Xander grabs his hand.

“No,” Spike answers quietly, interlacing his fingers with Xander’s. “I said I’d make it worth your while,” he says, “and it will be.”

He doesn’t say, “Do you trust me?” and Xander’s glad because the answer would have been yes, and even after everything that’s happened, it’s still probably not a good idea to let that out there.

“Isn’t there supposed to be…” Xander begins. “Well, can you just do it like that? Will it even… go in?”

Spike chuckles knowingly. “Yeah, it’ll go. Won’t do you without lube, though. ‘S not pretty.”

Xander doesn’t even want to know how Spike knows that, so he just looks at Spike expectantly.

“What? You think I just carry lube around in my coat? Are you off your nut?”

“Maybe,” Xander says, “and no. I’m very much on my nut, thank you. Whatever that means.”

That, ” Spike says, “doesn’t mean anything. And do you think I just walk around fucking every pretty boy I see?”

“Um, no?” Xander answers.

“Damn straight. Haven’t had a man in a hundred years. More, even. So no, Harris, I don’t carry lube with me everywhere I go.”

It takes every ounce of self control Xander has, but he doesn’t ask, “So why me?”

Spike looks at him. “You’re what, eighteen, nineteen? Got a bottle of hand lotion under the bed?”

Xander can deny it—Spike’s given him that option even though he probably knows it’s there—but after everything else, why bother? He reaches under the bed for his bottle of Vaseline Intensive Care, wishing a less embarrassing brand had been on sale last week.

Spike takes the bottle, and says “Hold your hand out,” and squeezes the white lotion into Xander’s hand. Xander thinks he must look as confused as he feels, because Spike says, “You’re warming it up.” He gestures to himself. “No body heat.”

Xander rubs the lotion between his hands as Spike shifts and straddles him again. Spike holds his hand out, and Xander smiles and avoids it. Instead, he fists both of their cocks with slick hands and strokes slowly. Spike groans and bats Xander’s hand away, bringing his cock down on top of Xander’s and thrusting against him.

Xander gasps at the contact and raises his hips to meet Spike’s. He can feel Spike’s balls sliding over his own, and he grabs Spike’s ass and pulls him down harder. He thrusts faster as Spike leans down to kiss him, and then Spike’s cock is replaced by a cool hand, and there’s that preternatural speed he’d fantasized about.

He’s gasping and moaning into Spike’s mouth and thinking—again—that he can’t last when there’s suddenly a strong grip on the base of his cock and a slick finger pushed into his ass, and Spike is hovering, watching his face.


And the finger feels weird, but not good or bad, so he figures okay is the right word for it.


And then, the finger moves. It’s buried inside Xander, and it’s stretching him, which is a little uncomfortable, but it’s still okay.

Spike’s still watching Xander’s face as he moves his finger in and out. He hasn’t eased his grip on Xander’s cock, and Xander’s not sure why that—

“Fuck!” Xander shouts—shouts—as Spike crooks his finger and hits… something. Something really, really good. “What the fuck was that?” he asks breathlessly.

“Prostate,” Spike smirks. “Again?”

“Uh-huh,” Xander gasps, and Spike brushes the spot again. He releases his hold on Xander’s cock and starts stroking, as he replaces one finger with two, stretching Xander but avoiding his prostate.

Xander thrusts up into Spike’s hand and down onto Spike’s other hand until he’s shaking and desperate to come. “Do it,” he says.

“You sure?”

Xander nods, and Spike’s cock is pushing into him. And it’s big, and it’s hard, and it’s stretching him a hell of a lot more than a few fingers did, but once it’s in, it’s actually okay. Until Spike moves. And then it’s the most incredible thing Xander’s ever felt.

“Spike… I can’t…”

“So don’t.” And Spike’s voice is just as lost and breathless as Xander’s.

Spike brushes Xander’s prostate twice before he comes, shouting and dousing them in warm stickiness.

He doesn’t have time to be embarrassed because Spike comes on the next thrust.

“That was…” Xander says.

“Yeah,” Spike answers, and Xander can’t help thinking how human this is. How Spike’s just a guy. Well, except for the thing with the ropes.

“So what’s the verdict?” Spike asks.


“Think you might be gay?”

“Oh. Yeah. I’m thinking yes.” Yeah, definitely gay. “You?”

Spike smirks. “It’s really not like that from where I’m standing. Attraction, sexuality, it’s not about gender. It’s about… knowing what I like.”

“And that is?” And yeah, it’s a lot like the why me? he was so glad he hadn’t asked earlier, but he blames it on the afterglow. Which is practically radioactive.

“You heard of assortative pairing? Suppose it means we’re programmed to choose physical opposites or physical equals.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Spike pulls out and settles next to Xander, tracing lines over his chest. “I don’t know if I can explain it. It’s like—what do you see when you look at me?”

Xander smiles. “I see… chipped retro vampire.” He pauses, then adds, “You’re beautiful.”

Chernobyl afterglow.

Spike’s hand stills and Xander holds his breath.

And there’s only so long he can hold it, but Spike still hasn’t said anything, and he’s about to run away or babble himself into oblivion or—

Breathe, Harris.” And Spike looks… amused. “Haven’t heard that one in a while. Didn’t expect it from you.”

Xander breathes.

“And calm down. Can’t think listening to your heart beating like that,” Spike says. “’M not angry. Think we might have to talk about our dirty little secret, though.”

Xander breathes more.

“What I like—you’ve seen it. Strong. Dark.” He runs a hand through Xander’s hair.

“So you go for the whole opposites thing.”

“For the lasting ones, yeah.”

“Hey Spike?”


“I think I have to tie you up again.” Spike smirks, and Xander adds, “Not like that. Buffy and Willow are coming over in the morning, and they have a tendency to not respect the personal space.”


“And if they come in and find you in bed with me…”


“Dust. And I kinda like you dust-free.”

“Right, then. We should get cleaned up.” Spike sits up, and Xander grabs his wrist.

“Wait,” he says. He doesn’t really have anything else to say, though, so he leans forward and kisses Spike. “Thanks,” he adds.

Spike answers with a quick nod and heads to the bathroom to clean up. Xander gathers everything that’s sticky and loads the washer. Then he flips the switch on the coffeemaker and locates and throws out the discarded lollipop. When Spike returns, he’s back in his Big Bad uniform.

“The ropes?” Spike asks.

“I have more,” Xander says.

He trades the broken ropes for new ones from under the stairs, and he ties Spike carelessly, now that he knows the ropes are just for show.

“So…” Spike says, after Xander gets into bed.

“Why don’t we just not talk about it,” Xander says. “Is that okay? If we don’t talk?”

Spike doesn’t answer, and Xander figures he’s asleep.

The End

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