Sequel to He Might Be a Pain in the... But He's My pain

So What if He's a Pain


One ~ The Pain is Killing Me Softly, and I Think I Like It! (Yes, I Do)

~ Z ~

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzrrrrrrrprrrrrrrrrr…. Huh? What?

Okay, brain, obviously time to stop and tally up the situation. Either I'm holding a life-sized Popsicle, or…

"Knock, knock, knocking on heaven's door," I hear someone murmur-singing close to my ear as the big cold thing rocks me gently. "Ain't a Zeppo any more, are you? Knock, knock, knocking on heaven's door…"

Yep. It's Spike.

So that wasn't a dream after all.

"Never were the useless thing they think you are, not with me," a rumbly voice, half-purr, half-speech, goes on, humming snatches of the song in between. I can tell he thinks I'm asleep, or he'd never talk to me like this.

And okay, so it's sneaky, but I keep on pretending sleep so I can hear more of this. Sounds interesting. And, might I add, nicely ego-massaging, if surprising.

"How'd I get so lucky, eh?" Spike purrs. "My head's all a-fugue; can't make tops nor tails of it. What did we drink last night? Oh, hells, don't tell me I did have that Holiday Special at Willy's after all, that's only meant for Clem's kind - whatever that kind is… for whatever this holiday they're having right now is… he did offer to treat me but I thought I'd had the sense to turn him down for once-"

"Hey!" I protest, my head shooting up from where it's pillowed on his arm.

"Thought so." He laughs and jabs my ribs gently, so the chip doesn't go off. "Big faker."

"Oh, so I'm a faker now, huh?" I squirm around to face him. "How much do you want to bet I faked?"

He looks genuinely stung. "Hey… hey…" I'm quick to soothe, and isn't that bizarre in the cold light of day? But I don't want him to hurt, not any more today than I did last night. "No faking. I promise. Not then. Not now."

Oh, geez, that uncertain little-boy look deserves a cuddle. He comes to me easily, tucking his head in the crook of my shoulder. Normally this is scary-vampire-do-not-go-there territory, but I know he can't bite, wouldn't bite unless I wanted him to.

Ooo. There's a thought we'll save for later. Much, much later. When it doesn't have the power to either give me a major case of squick or help raise up the morning flagpole. When did it start doing that?

But, time to think about that later. I've got a rumblepurring vampire snuggled against me, and while you can say what you want about their stamina, there's something about the good old fashioned human male when he first wakes up that every horny partner should appreciate. He sure seems to, and I'm not about to say no.

'Scuse me, won't you?

~ Y ~


Not even Anya or Buffy made it like this. And I hated you. I really did. Buffy had me from hey-hi-hello-how-are-you-can-I-have-you, and Anya, well, she creeped me out a little, but from the moment she came up on me when I had that juice box, whoa, nelly. We were off for a ride. But it took a while before she got so deep inside me like you have in just one night.

Is it because I can sense that this is real? Not just a test drive that turned into something more, like with Anya? Not just a crush that petered out gently on its own, like with Buffy? It has nothing to do with the fact that you've tried to kill me and apparently given that up. I've had more people - unpeople - things - try that than I can even count any more. The quality of mercy sort of lost its impact with me a while back.

But you, in my arms, returning each sleepy kiss with increasing need… you're special to me. I don't even think I'll mind if you wake me up by singing every morning.

Oops, there you go, back to what got you here in the first place.

Now, how's that Hendrix song go? "'Scuse me while I kiss that guy?" Kinda weird for Hendrix, but hey, not gonna catch me arguing when I've got my own kissablelickablevampiresicle doing all of the above and doing it damned well.

~ X ~

X is for Xander, and that's good enough for Spike, hey!
X is for Xander, and that's good enough for Spike, hey!
X is for Xander, and that's apparently good enough to get Spike as hard as his namesake and have him roll me over and over until we're tangled in the sheets, hey!
X is for Xander, and now you'll definitely have to 'scuse me!

~ W ~

Why do fools fall in love? Because I love him. I really do! He's mine now, now and forever, and I can do whatever I want with him, just like he can with me, so would the censors in my mind please shut up?

See, I'd rather pay attention to this than the frowny-faced finger-shakers in my evil mind. Being your typical horndog as well as head over heels (hey! Not literally) I'm so seriously into loving what he can do to me. That white-blond thatch has just disappeared under the covers, and I can see it snaking its way down my body.

More important, I can feel the little growly kisses, nipping a bite of skin each, not hard enough to break it, just enough to make me gasp like the bottom of the balloon's dropped out each time.

I can just hear what they'll say to me when they find out. "He's a murderer." "He tried to kill you." "He tried to kill me/me/me/me/me!" Right now, I don't care. He's on his way to gloryland, oh, yes sir, he is, and -

ohgods he reached it

he's done more than reach it

A cool, wet tongue is circling the head of my cock, playing with it ever so gently. This is nothing like Anya. She sucked me she was a Hoover vac, which, while it has its advantages, hasn't got a thing on how Spike's doing it. A hundred years and change taught him a few things, I guessmuarrggh

He's poking the tip of his tongue into the slit on the tip, already leaking pre-goodies, and I think I'm harder than I was last night, if that's possible. But he's so careful. So gentle. I reach out blindly to grab his hair, to guide him, but he doesn't need that. He's sinking his mouth down over the whole thing, taking it all in. I can just barely make it out, the sight of his cheeks distorted by not-so-little-Xan, his eyes closed in what looks like rapture, and then he swallows -

ogods, 'scuse me

till I get my breath back

~ V ~

Like a virgin, frotting for the very first time… Virgin. What, does he think I'm some kind of delicate flower? He knew I was a virgin to last night's festivities. He knows I'm so no longer a virgin to this morning's kind of wake-up Call of Delight. But on the other hand (if they weren't both busy just now) I know he thinks humans are all "delicate and fragile-like". He's taking my breath away, but I guess that's why he's so gentle.

Still, I can feel the beast inside him, howling more, rougher, harder, deeper. How do I get it across to him that it's okay? That I… that I think I want it that way, too?

Let's just try urging him up for an innocent kiss - on my lips, thank you - hmm, I don't taste half bad, must be all the sugar - and while he's in prime playing position, we'll just…

Ooooh, I think he liked that. At least if that yowl was a happy, not a "I'll tear your throat out when I get rid of this chip" kind of noise. I'm going to hope it was of the good, and try this one more time…

- oof -

Okay, I've got my breath back from that barrage of hot, open-mouthed kisses, all tongue and fangs and the taste of coppery blood shared between us. That was definitely happy.

Aren't we all awfully glad that Mrs. Rosie Palm and her five daughters taught us how to make our own bodies feel good when there wasn't anyone else in our sex lives? Mental note: Spike loves having his prostate manipulated. And you know, it's not gross at all, it just feels perfectly natural.

Besides, if he's this bendy, I'm taking full advantage of it. Wicked Xander. Mwahahaha.

~ U ~

"Understandable," Spike pants.

What in the hell is he saying?

"S'understandable if you change your mind, after that, after this," he's panting, even as I try out the double-dick grip he taught me last night, even as he's showering my neck and chest with sharp silver kisses. "After all, last night was… different. Special."

I can only manage something that sounds like "gnurgle" in response. But I doubt he's listening. I don't really want to be listening, either, I'd like to be getting off, thank you very much. I double the speed of my slide and listen to his gasp in deep satisfaction. Still, he won't shut up.

"Figured you'd wake up in the arms of a man you hate, much less a man, and be all horrified at everything we did together."

Shut up, Spike. I grip both his hips and pull him closer so he can feel just how much I do not hate him. See? Feel? So not hating this here.

"Figured you'd pull away as if I burned and stung-"

But I do, I do - I just burn for him, and we burned together, god, we were so hot, so hot that even he's gotten warm from the fire we're making here; oh, shut up, Spike!

"Knew you'd dash around like a clown getting back into your dry togs, back up the ladder, off to the Slayer."

To Buffy?! No way! I remember how she reacted when Wills came out with the whole gay thing. I thought I'd have to find a special screwdriver to get her eyes back in their sockets. I was willing to rivet Riley to her gaping mouth so it would look at least semi-natural. Buffy doesn't handle multiculturalism well.

Just about as well as I - used - to.

Occurs to me I'm going to have to revise a lot of thoughts, here.

But time for that later!

Spike's still going on about something. Bad Spike. Talkee bad. Kissee good. Blowee better. Thrustee best. So would you just cork it, Spike? (Oooh, mental note for later!)

I pick up the pace again, until even he, who doesn't need to breathe, is heaving for air, but --

"Then, it's not be just goodbye to this sweet night, it's good-bye everything else, because she'll be back here with a stake fast as I can pick up the pieces your leaving behind's going to shatter me into…"

I stop. Jeez. He means that?

"Spike…" I reach up and touch his face with one heated hand. "Spike, don't…"

He turns his head away. "S'okay, though. I'm prepared. Expecting it. In the end, it'll have been worth it. It was bliss."

Aw, Spike…

Shut up!

I reach up and stop his mouth with a kiss, a hot kiss, one that I hope tells him everything that I've thought about and decided on. So what if it might be dumb, or suicidal? That doesn't matter. What matters is here, and now, and love.

And then I go down on him.

Hard. Fast. The way I like it.

The way he likes it too, apparently.

And in the end, I find that even stroking his ego is worth it.

Because what we share… it's bliss.

Two ~ I Feel the Need To Share My Pain

~ T ~

"Time to get up, dozy!" I order, giving the sheets a good sharp snap that sends Spike spinning like the Secret Surprise inside a Fruit Roll-Up. He's set to stay there all day with the occasional or frequent repeat of Fun With Xander, but no can do. Things to see. People to - no, that's wrong. Um. Damn. He's got my head all a-fugue now, whatever that means. It doesn't help that he spun out of the sheet-roll graceful as a skater, and now he's lying stretched out on the bed as if he's satiated and content but still hungry for more.

On impulse, I lean over and skritch his belly. He yelps and doubles up. Oooo, ticklish? I'll have to remember that for later.

He sits up, pouting. I Will Not Respond. I Am Stronger Than That. Even with his hair free from the gel and dangling in unruly curls down into his eyes. "Thought you were having fun, pet," he sulks, wrapping one arm around his knees.

"Fun?" I lean over and kiss him quickly. "You call that fun? I call that mind-blowing. And no jokes about blowing, either, pal, or you'll do without doing or being done until your mouth dries up and blows away, got it?"

Ah, there, that got a grin. "You're fucking mad, you know that?"

"Yup." I snap the sheets at him, this time like a towel. "So, you getting up or what?"

"Or what," he grumbles - but he does stand, stretching again, so I can get a good look at what I'm missing out on by insisting on starting the day. My own mouth goes just a little dry at the sight. He is some kind of a, oh, hey, come on, so maybe I'm gay now, but I don't have to be a dear old ducky. He's Spike. Murderous. Vampire. I am so not going to go all roses and poetry over him.

At least for a week. I'll pinky-swear with myself on that one.

He saunters over, all Big Bad attitude, and props his forearm on my shoulder, then his chin on the arm. "Where we going, then?"

So my mouth's totally dry now. I just need a drink of water.

I check my watch. Eeep! Way too late for work. Damn his not having an alarm clock. Although, I guess a vampire wouldn't have too much need for one. I'll have to call in later and invent a really good story about being sick.

"Um…" Better invent something quick. Not that I'd mind falling back into bed with him for the rest of the day, but I made him get up (oh, oh, bad pun, bad pun, Xander - save it for later, he'll love it) and damned if we're not going somewhere.

"You mind if we stop by Glinda's?" he demands, leaning forward to touch my forehead with his.

"Glinda - you mean Tara's?" It's not hard to figure out his system of nicknames once you've gotten to know him.

Oh, hell. I wonder what he's going to call me now?

"Yeah, her place."

"I don't mind." But curiosity has me tilting my head to a side. "Why?"

He grins a grin that makes me definitely want to forget about going anywhere at all. "You'll see, love."

Awwwwww! I put on the patented Xander-pout, which, while it's nowhere near as good as his, beats Willow's and Buffy's by a mile. No one can resist Puppy-Dog-Eyes.

"Don't try that on me," he snorts, and turns away to rummage out his Docs from where they landed last night. "You'll see. In due time."

"Don't wanna see in due time," is my reasonable response. "Wanna see now. C'mon, Spike…"

"Keep whining and you'll end up sounding like Harmony."

Erk! I clamp a hand over my mouth. Anything's better than that. After our last little, oh-so-mature slapping and hair-pulling fight, I avoid Harmony with all the power that I hath. Comparisons with her? I think not. And it's a little alarming to realize that Spike's in a position to compare.

I shudder a little. Ew! I've been where Harmony was. But on the other hand, I can't blame her for going there. Besides, surely he's… washed… since then.

Speaking of which, I could so use a shower. I'll have to see about running some piping down here, maybe grafted off a city line, install a shower.

Oooh… naked Spike… naked wet Spike…

I shake my head hard and get back to the subject at hand (damn! Is there any turn of phrase that can't be a double entendre?). Let's try it a different way. Le way of Le Seductor, a la Pepe le Pew (wizzout le steenk).

I kneel down at his feet and put my head in his lap, gazing up with the patented Doe Eyes. His lip trembles before he looks hastily away. "Come on, Spike," I beg, knowing where the warmth of my breath is landing. "Tell me?"

"Bloody hell, I need a smoke," he grumbles, dragging the loose hair away from his face and cuffing me ever so tenderly. "Okay, then! You want to know? I'll tell you. Got to tell someone how happy I am and she's the only one of your rotten lot who'll understand."

~ S ~

Spike… how can you…

He jerks away from me. "Figured," he grumbles, heading for his clothes. "Didn't think you'd want this out of the closet, like you Yanks say. Our dirty little secret, will it be?"

All right, that's it. If I'm going to be having the regular sex (and you bet I'm planning on it) with the psychotic, multiple-personality, King of All That Is Insecure vampire, I'm not going to spend valuable face-eating time soothing him up from these valleys. "Says who?" I retort, getting to my feet. Little Xan backs, or rather fronts me up, on this. "We can tell the world so far as I care."

Oooh. That could have been a bad choice of words. He turns on me with the devil's own gleam (and I know whereof I speak!) in his eye. "Mean that, do you?"

Gulp. "Um…"

"Right, then," he says, advancing on me until we're almost nose-touching nose, heedless or maybe fully heedful of the fact that we're both naked and our trouser snakes are making friends. "We'll tell the world. Or at least the part that you care about. All your friends. The entire bloody Scooby gang. Each one of them."


"We do this, and no more fretting." He gives his hips a shimmy and shake that almost has my eyes crossing. "Don't do it, and, well… no more frotting."

"You are evil," I manage to croak out over my very dry throat. Wasn't I thinking about water a moment ago? We so very need some of that piped in here.

"What can I say? I'm bad."

I shake my head. "Words bad. This good."

But regardless of how much I can tell he's enjoying himself, he snatches my arms away from his hips when I make a grab for the pot of gold at the end of my own personal rainbow. "True confessions first, pet," he admonishes.




"Exactly so."


"You wish. So, we start with Tara, eh?"

He truly is a pain in the ass. Trouble is, I've found out how much fun that is now.

Three ~ Pain by Plan: The World Is Not Enough

~ R ~

"Really? Oh. Did you want to come in?"

I'd expected shock. Maybe surprise. Oddly enough, Tara shows neither. She's just smiling that shy little Wicca smile, which I'm beginning to suspect hides a whole hell of a lot more than she lets on. I can feel her eyes sweeping over the hickeys on my neck and burning through where the shirt hides them on my chest.

"Feelin' a little exposed, love?" Spike murmurs just for my ears as he brushes by.

"Bite me."

"Say please."

I bare my teeth playfully. "I'll bite you."

"Threat or promise?"

Tara clears her throat. I whip around. I'd forgotten she was there! But she's smiling, almost laughing, at both of us.

Geez, if coming out of the closet is this easy…

Spike's looking at me with one eyebrow raised up. "I can tell," he says simply, "that whatever you're thinking, you're being stupid. Don't."

Tara nods solemnly.

Ohhhkayy. Thank you both for that nice cold chill. So what's the encore?

Ah. That would be Willow, sitting in the corner, her hair just a bit more than disheveled (so what is 'sheveled', anyway?) and her eyes bigger than Grandma's cookies.

And I can't believe what they're watching (can't believe Tara has a TV)!

~ Q ~

Queer as Folk! I can't help it, I giggle, and then I laugh, and I can't stop laughing, thinking about how Wills always wanted me to watch that show, and I'd never go for it. I'd always find something else on at the same time, or distract her with the offer of patrol or a long heart-to-heart, the kind only best buds have.

It's like what Sherlock Holmes said, in that story she herself read to me. Eliminate the improbable, and what you're left with is the impossible. That's what has to be real.

Improbable = this happened at all. But it did.

Impossible = that I'd fall in love with a vampire. A male vampire. But when you eliminate any improbability from what happened, what you're left with is the impossibility of love. But I feel it. It's not just afterglow. That fades away into the ether when you sleep, and when you wake up after something like that, you're left with the feeling of spiders crawling over your skin, no recollection of who's in bed with you and how they got there, and usually no idea of what their name is. Large amounts of JD and country music have often been a crucial part of that mix for me.

But it was nothing like that. I did the improbable, and wound up with the impossible.

And you know what? I like beating the odds.

~ P ~


It's started to rain again, and we're bouncing from puddle to puddle like Tigger on speed. I tilt my head back and let out a holler of sheer delight, one that he picks up and echoes back at me. God, this is bliss!

I look at him, bouncing from one pothole to another and getting completely soaked, that even now, he's so pretty. I wonder if that's why Drusilla picked him? Did he look this pretty back then, waiting to rise, with his eyelashes curling against his white cheek and one slim hand flung up, like it'd protect him from the monsters in the dark? He did that last night. Why, when now he is one of those monsters? Does he think he's William when he sleeps?

Is he afraid of what he'll find when he wakes?

He doesn't have to be afraid with me. I reach out and manage to snag his hand in-between jumps, and I hang on tight. He looks at me with the thrilled exhilaration of a little boy and tugs on my arm. Together, then, we start jumping again, puddle to puddle, pothole to pothole, throwing up great dirty swathes of water, and having the time of our un/lives.

So he's a pain in the ass. He's my pain in the ass. And together, we're going places. You got that? Good.

Unfortunately, I look up and see just exactly where we're going next, and it's almost enough to turn me back around.

~ O ~

"Orgasms. You're having orgasms together?"

OK, this could potentially be the worst: telling the ex. Particularly when your ex is a vengeance demon with a history of eviscerating men. Even if we haven't been enjoying our own orgasms for a while, I'm wondering if this won't bring out the -nka in Anyanka.

"Orgasms," she puzzles, handing over a customer's change. Poor customer. Trying not to stare. I feel for you, poor customer. Scuttle away, little person. Try not to look like you're looking back. Good boy.

She bites at her lips for a bit, and I can tell she's deep in thought. Even Mr. I-Dare-You Spike starts looking nervous.

"I'm confused."

I'm relieved. At least I'm not unraveling my intestines.

"W-what are you confused about, then?" Spike has the courage to ask.

"How can two men have orgasms together? And if this is true, why didn't we try that when you and I were a couple? We could have brought Spike in on it. Well?"

She turns to me expectantly. And Spike, the bastard, fades into the background, leaving me to explain the flip side of sexuality to a thousand year old vengeance demon with a child's curiosity and a peculiar brand of innocence.

Thanks ever so, darling.


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