It started with with a (fictional, we hope) ice cream/donut/sex shop rest area on the highway.
And then it just grew until it ate Cici's brain.
We therefore are proud to present... *drum roll, thanks*
The Adventures of Hopalong Peter

Rated NC-17. Contains rampant silliness, ice cream abuse, food as sex toys. If you're bothered by slash you might not want to keep reading....
Thanks to [info]Mad Poetess for the original donut/ice cream/sex shop idea.
Spike, Xander, and the Buffyverse ©Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Warner Brothers, UPN, 20th Century Fox, Sandollar, and probably some other people I've forgotten.
It's Joss' world, we just like to play in it





The Adventures of Hopalong Peter


by
Cicirossi



Part One

"Okay, Spike. Tell me again why we absolutely, positively had to go to Las Vegas right now?" Xander was curled into the passenger seat of his 'I'm an adult now' sedan, thinking about how the manufacturer of this car didn't tell you that it shook alarmingly once you went more than ninety miles per hour. He'd let Spike drive. Why had he done that?

"Had a few days off, didn't you? And you've never been there."

"At this rate, I never will get there."

"Oh now, you don't trust me, do you?"

If he opened his eyes and looked at Spike, he'd see a wounded pout. That was a very attractive look for Spike. But looking at Spike meant accidentally glancing at the speedometer. And that meant whimpering. To begin with, Xander had kept his eyes wide open, as if the force of his stare alone would keep them on the road. An hour into the trip, though, his eyes were dry and grainy. He tried eye drops, but after an incident that involved a Winnebago, a boat trailer, and the eye drop bottle piercing his brain, he gave up and went fetal. He rested his head on his drawn up knees and refused to open them until they stopped.

Stopping. Now there was a good idea. They still had plenty of time before the sun came up, and only a few more hours to drive. "Spike, I have to pee."

"Why didn't you go before we left?"

"I did. That was two hours ago."

"You can wait."

"Um, hello? Human. Must go pee. Unless you want me to go all male cat on you and spray. Everywhere."

With the one eye he cracked open to look, he could see the look of horror that crossed Spike's face. Xander turned back into his knees and shook with silent laughter. After more than a hundred years, Spike had forgotten what certain parts of being human were like, had in fact developed a rather amusing fear of them, at least as they related to Xander.

"Right. Well, we'll just find a place to pull off, lots of empty space out here."

No, no, no. That would never do. Spike would stay in the car. He had to get out, so Xander could plant himself in the driver's seat and refuse to move. Unless of course Spike offered oral sex. Which was how Spike had ended up driving in the first place. Sometimes not breathing was a good thing.

"I'm hungry too," he said, plaintive and small-voiced. "I want ice cream."

"Of course you do. Fine, next truck stop, we'll pull in."

"My hero."

A wet raspberry was his only reply. For a while the only sounds were road noise and the blaring of the radio. The music was unfamiliar and discordant, one of Spike's choices. It did nothing for Xander's jumpy nerves. So when Spike let out a whoop, Xander's feet slipped off the edge of the seat and he banged his head on the dash.

"Owmydose," he said, rubbing his stinging face.

"Oh, sorry pet. But look. A truck stop made with us in mind."

It took a few moments for his eyes to stop watering, but when they did, Xander saw that Spike was right. For once. The truck stop was one of those multi-purpose places that usually held a convenience store, gas station, and Taco Bell or Subway. This one had the quick stop and the diesel tanks, but it also had a Krispy Kreme donut shop, a Dairy Queen, and a garish pink building in the back parking lot that proclaimed itself "Trucker's Delite Adult Arcade".

"Wow."

"Yeah. This could be fun."

"Just remember. Must be in Las Vegas in hotel before the sun comes up."

"Who's the vamp, here? Not likely to forget. Doesn't mean we can't have some ice cream and a few new sex toys, does it?"

"Well, we have some time, I guess." Xander bounced a little at the thought of a Krispy Kreme original glazed, hot, with chocolate-vanilla swirl ice cream melting on it. "Right. Bathroom. Then I get donuts while you get ice cream."

"No. You go to the loo. Then sex shop. Otherwise the ice cream will melt and the donuts will be cold."

"Oh yeah. Good thought. Okay, new toys then food."

"Then sex in the car?"

Oh it was going to be hard to resist that hopeful, almost innocent but also edible look. Yet another good look for Spike. Come to think of it, the only bad look for Spike was his 'duh while also in vamp face' look. Which was bad but endearing. Still, if he let Spike talk him into sex in the car, he would fall asleep afterwards, and Spike would be driving again. Xander settled for non-committal.

"We'll see what we have time for. We may have to hit the road and wait until the hotel."

A sideways look from Spike told him that he knew exactly what Xander was up to. And he still wanted sex in the car, thank you very much. They pulled into a parking space that was roughly equidistant from all of the buildings, and Xander jumped out and made a run for the restroom. He really did have to go. He came out weighing at least a pound or two less. Spike was nowhere to be seen. Probably getting a head start on the sex toys, he thought, and made his way to the Trucker's Delite.

The shop was obscenely bright, row after row of fluorescent lights illuminating row after row of gadgets and toys. Xander blinked, trying to adjust his eyes. He couldn't see Spike anywhere, but he could hear him humming a happy tune. After a few bars Xander recognized it as the Lumberjack Song, from Monty Python. Somehow, he thought Sit on My Face would be more appropriate.

His pupils finally found the right setting, and Xander looked around, trying to figure out where to start. The cash register was right up front, and Xander did a double take at the man seated behind it. A huge mountain of a man, with a braided beard, many tattoos, and a t-shirt bearing the "Bikers for Christ" logo. Made Xander wonder how the guy felt about boys who liked other boys. Nervously wonder.

The man looked up from his magazine and nodded politely. "Let me know if I can help you with anything," he said, and Xander goggled. He sounded like Nathan Lane doing a Tiny Tim impersonation. The idea of this guy singing "Tip Toe through the Tulips" ambushed him. He couldn't actually speak thanks to that image, so he just smiled with a sort of manic desperation and went in search of Spike.

Spike was in the back of the store, perusing a display of leather crops. His arms were already full of boxes and bags and things unidentifiable. The song had changed to "Always Look on the Bright Side", and since when did the trip to Vegas become a one-way trip to another dimension? Because this was just too surreal.

Eyeing the pile Spike had accumulated, Xander did some quick calculations. "We can't afford all of that. We only have the one credit card, and that's for the hotel and food."

The haughty look Spike turned on him was only slightly spoiled by the enormous feather duster propped just under his chin. "Now what sort of demon would I be if I couldn't provide accoutrements for my human? Don't you worry yourself, luv. I've got this."

"You are not stealing all of this."

"Of course not. I'm paying for it with Anya's credit card."

That made him blink. "How did you get Anya's credit card?"

"Told her I'd tell Giles where she lived if she didn't finance our vacation."

"Um, Spike? How do you know where she lives?"

"Well, we keep in touch, don't we? Exchange recipes and all." Spike gave him an angelic smile. Which scared him right down to his toes. "Anyways, it's all paid for, right? That's all you need to know. Oooh, look. Neon vibrating 'nightsticks'."

Xander looked. Ouch. "No Spike. And could you keep your voice down? I'm sure it's patently obvious to Bubba the soprano that we're a couple, but I'd like to keep my ass un-kicked, so don't rub his nose in it, okay?"

"Piffle."

"What's a piffle? And what the Hell is that?" He couldn't see what Spike picked up, let alone how he had a hand free to pick anything up, but he wanted approval on all purchases.

"Wind up toy. Non-invasive silliness. I want one."

It was indeed a wind-up toy. Of the non-sex toy variety. The box showed a picture of a tiny penis with feet, that hopped when you wound it up. It was called Hopalong Peter. Oh god. Xander could just see what Spike would do with something like that.

"Is that really necessary, Spike?"

"It is if you won't let me have the butt plug with the bunny tail on it. Which I have a feeling you won't."

"No! I mean, wow, isn't that toy penis cute? Sure you only want one?" Firmly steering Spike away from nightsticks and bunny tails, Xander started him on a winding path towards the checkout. "Oh hey, did you actually get the one thing we needed? The lube?"

"Thought we were getting ice cream."

Full body shiver on that one, and Xander steered them to a wall that held a dizzying array of condoms and lube. "You know, they don't have nearly this much variety in Sunnydale."

"Fat lot you know. You just go to the pristine little chain stores, is all. Ooooh. Cock rings with devil horns."

"Concentrate, you bleached menace. Lube. Must have lube."

"Oh, right. Nothing fruity. You are what you eat after all."

He gave Spike a dark look. "Much too late for that, Spike."

They finally settled on a safe for use in hot tub lube, and Xander began the long and arduous process of getting them out the door. Every few feet Spike stopped to look at something that caught his eye, and almost every time Xander winced at a painful image. Hey, he liked his sex aids as much as the next guy, but anything with horns, bumps or lumps was out. It took a fortuitous rumble from his tummy, coupled with his best 'feed me ice cream and donuts before I waste away to nothing' wistful look for Spike to agree that maybe they had more than they could use on a three day stay already.

The biker turned cashier didn't bat an eye when Spike plopped his armload of loot down on the counter. Under his beard was a nametag that Xander hadn't seen until they got up close and personal. His name was Algernon. One more repressed giggle fit like this and he might bust something. Spike looked at him oddly, and Xander bared his teeth at him. Which made Spike waggle an eyebrow. Which almost made Xander lose it, because then he knew that Spike was fucking with him.

Meanwhile, Algernon had been totaling up their new stash, and quoted a price that made Xander blink. Spike handed over Anya's credit card, and had he been just a bit less of the big bad, Xander would have called that the dance of glee. While they waited for credit approval, Algernon looked Xander over carefully.

"He like all this sort of stuff?" Algernon asked, and Xander was reminded of the mice from Disney's Cinderella.

"Oh yeah." Spike nodded solemnly. "He's a pushy, demanding little bottom, he is."

The receipt was retrieved and Spike signed it. Algernon handed Spike his copy and started bagging up a collection of leather straps that brought pretzels to mind. "Don't suppose you share. Or that I could rent him for a few hours."

The question was asked so casually that Xander didn't figure it out until bag three of clamps, chains, and cock rings. When it did sink in, he gave an unmanly squeak and hid behind Spike. Or tried to, which didn't work, seeing that Spike was smaller than he was.

"Nah. Sorry. We're on a tight schedule."

"Right. Well, it never hurts to ask." Algernon handed Spike their bags and grinned. "Have a good day."

"Back at you, mate. C'mon luv." Spike turned to leave, and Xander grabbed his arm and quick time marched them out of the store. He couldn't get outside fast enough, because Algernon and the paddle he'd been rubbing with loving attention were getting nowhere near his ass. They made it as far as the car before Spike collapsed, leaning against the fender and whooping with laughter.

"We are not amused, Spike. Not at all. That guy wanted to buy me."

"Just for a few hours, pet," Spike replied, between snorts. "Hell, if you weren't mine I'd make the same offer. Why do you think Anya and I get on so well?"

"You mean you, while we were still? Oh God."

"She turned me down because I didn't want to let her watch. Showed her, didn't I? I'm the one who's got you now."

He looked so smug, and sounded so proud, that Xander couldn't be mad. "You are one strange duck, you know that? Now put that credit card to good use and buy me donuts and ice cream."

They stuffed their bags into the back seat, and Spike did just that. They bought a few dozen assorted donuts, hot off the line. Xander inhaled two while they waited to pay, inciting an indignant protest from Spike. He had plans for each and every one apparently. Then they went and got ice cream. Xander let Spike choose, imposing only one limitation, the same one he had placed on donut buying. Nothing with nuts or sprinkles. They chafed.

Back at the car, Xander pulled out the keys, which he'd stolen out of Spike's pocket while Spike was dithering over paddle versus hairbrush, and jumped into the driver's seat. Spike protested. Xander ignored him. Spike pouted. Xander held fast. Spike leaned over and whispered something in Xander's ear. Xander pulled the car around to the darkest back corner of the parking lot and handed Spike the keys.

Not quite an hour, three hot fudge sundaes, and five donuts later they were ready to go. By that time, Xander was a satisfied, drowsy lump, once again ensconced in the passenger seat. He would just sleep the rest of the way to Las Vegas, and hope that he woke up alive. A loud "I almost forgot" from Spike actually got him to crack one eyelid open. He was just in time to see Spike pop up out of the back seat clutching the Hopalong Peter. Spike removed it from its box, and set it carefully on the dashboard. There was enough sticky ice cream residue there to make sure Pete wouldn't fall off unless Spike really had to lay on the brakes. Somehow, that sight ought to bother him. Xander was sure it would when he woke up. Right now, it just seemed fitting.

The sugar rush wore off, and Xander fell asleep watching Hopalong Peter bob along to Spike's unmelodious version "Viva Las Vegas". Which, he supposed, was better than lumberjacks and spam. His last waking thought was mild annoyance at the unfairness of vampire physiology. Spike never crashed from an overload of sugar. Or maybe it was more like Spike was always on a sugar high, so it never made a difference.

"We're here!!!!" The bellow, produced about two inches from his left ear, brought Xander fully awake, snorting and flailing. Spike bounced back out of his way and watched him flounder for a minute, then stuffed a donut in his mouth. He chewed gratefully, and calmed down enough to look around. They were indeed "here", on the Vegas strip, which at the wee hours of the morning was all flashy neon and staggering drunks. Xander grinned.

"We made it. In one piece. Well, mostly two pieces because there's two of us, but still."

"You have no faith in me, pet. I drive at least as well as I shag."

"But you don't sing when we fuck, Spike. It makes all the difference in the world. Um, where are we going?"

"To our hotel, luv."

"Our hotel is on the strip? I thought we were staying at that cheap place that has the shuttle. You know, the one outside of town a ways?"

"And let you miss out on the full experience? Never say so."

They turned off at a corner full of classical statuary, covered by a gaudy walking bridge with escalators. Ah, America. "Caesar's Palace? Wow. You really are running up Anya's credit card."

Flashing him a grin, Spike pulled in at the valet parking area. "Hey, if you can't take advantage of a spot of blackmail on your boyfriend's ex-girlfriend-demon, well, what's the world coming to?" Handing the keys to the bland-faced valet, Spike reached in and hauled the pink and turquoise Trucker's Delite bags from the back seat. He also grabbed the little wind-up penis from the dashboard and stuffed it in his duster pocket. "Right. Got my luggage. Gather up all your flapdoodle and come on."

"Flapdoodle?" Xander asked as he pulled his duffle out of the trunk. "Is that anything like piffle?"

"Nah. Little more Victorian. Come on. Need to sun proof the room before daylight. You got the duct tape?"

Trailing along behind Spike, Xander shook his head and grinned. He'd have to file that one in "things that only someone living with Spike would hear in Las Vegas." This was going to be one heck of a trip.

Checking in proved profitable, as Spike's flirting with the big-haired girl behind the desk netted them a free room upgrade. To a superior deluxe palace tower room™. It had a jacuzzi. And marble-floored showers with glass doors. Now they didn't have to sneak into the spa after hours to use that lube. Come to think of it, the desk girl kind of reminded him of Harmony. He didn't have time to fully appreciate the lobby, or the really cool ceiling in the hallway they went through, because Spike was starting to do that sunshine on my shoulder makes me burst into flames walk. He had a finely developed vampire sense of impending sunrise, Xander knew, and wanted to fix the curtains up properly before the main event.

The room was huge. It had an immense king sized bed with a little sitting area beyond it, and a little black wet bar at one end. He'd have to keep Spike away from that. Xander rummaged in his bag and pulled out his handy dandy roll of duct tape. He handed it to Spike and went about exploring the rest of the room. He wandered into the bathroom, which was bigger than his old basement apartment, and assessed the whirlpool bath. Oh yeah, just the right size. That wasn't what really got him though.

"Hey Spike, you've got to come see this!"

The rather shrill strains of "Whistle While you Work" broke off, and Spike hollered, "Give me half a minute. Almost done."

Chuckling madly, Xander slipped out of sight into the toilet area, literally a water closet, and waited for Spike to come through the door.

"Pet? Xan? Where'd you go?" Once Spike walked all the way into the bath area and turned a full circle looking for him, Xander popped out of the toilet, waving the handset of the courtesy phone he'd found inside.

"It's for you, Spike."

"Gah!" Spike backpedaled right into the whirlpool, and went ass over teakettle, legs kicking wildly. Xander lost it, laughing until tears ran down his cheeks, gasping and wheezing for breath. Spike looked like a very pissed off black and red turtle.

"Serves you right," he said when he could speak again. "Gets you back for Algernon. And for waking me up like you did. And anything else you might do to me this weekend." Watching Spike fumble around to get out of the tub sent him off into further gales, and he laughed until his knees gave out and he sank to the floor holding his tummy.

"You," Spike said in a very deliberate voice, "are a menace."

"Mhhmmmm, bwahahahaha."

"Where did you come from anyway?"

Still letting out the occasional giggle, Xander pointed over his shoulder. "The toilet. It's in there."

"There was a phone in the loo?" At Xander's nod, Spike grinned. "Well, that's when you know you've arrived isn't it? So how about we fire this bathtub up and give it a go?"

He took the proffered hand and let Spike yank him to his feet. He managed to put the phone back, even with Spike plastered up against him nibbling his neck, and started dragging them back into the bedroom. "As soon as you feed me, from room service, which you will pay for with Anya's credit card, we can do just that."

After a minor scuffle, they called room service. After a small head thwapping match brought on by Spike's accusation that Xander was just a bit too fixated on the words Anya and credit card, they settled in to eat. Xander was a happy man. Rare steak, and salad and an enormous slab of chocolate cake that he ate directly from Spike's fingers. He licked the residue of frosting from Spike's palm, and made contented little noises, and Spike laughed at him.

They ended up napping after their meal, because Spike insisted that they wait at least an hour before going in the water. Didn't want Xander drowning on him, did he? Torn between amusement and irritation, Xander spooned behind Spike with his back to the window side of the bed, and grumbled about overprotective weirdoes until they fell asleep.

Sometime around noon, Xander woke up with Spike buried completely beneath him, and a strong urge to go to the restroom. He slipped out of bed and covered Spike carefully with the classical motif bedspread, then headed off to do his "mortal thing", as Spike called it. He wondered idly if he was going to bust a gut laughing every time he went into the bathroom. He hoped not. It would certainly kill the mood. While he was there he took a moment to turn on the whirlpool jets, and then went back to the main room to rummage through their sex toy allotment, looking for the lube.

No, no, no, ah! Yes. Waterproof lube. Triumphant, he went to the foot of the bed and grabbed the big toe hanging out of the bottom of the covers. He gave it a good yank, and a messy head of hair shot up from under the Coliseum and a set of big, blinking eyes stared at him over the Forum.

"Mrrgrph?"

"Hot tub time, Spike." Xander waved the lube, then started back to the bathroom, shedding clothes as he went. Stopping in the doorway, bare except for his boxers, Xander looked over his shoulder at Spike. Who was staring with an endearing sleepy stupidity at Xander. "Coming?" he asked, and bent over to slip his boxers off before disappearing into the bathroom.

His butt hadn't even settled on the bench fully before he had a double armful of naked Spike. Straddling his lap, pushing him back against the side of the tub, Spike kissed him breathless, making those little growly noises that drove Xander absolutely nuts. Kisses rough and urgent and nothing like their loving play at the truck stop. This was Spike when he got serious, when he focused on Xander completely, and it made Xander shake, made him wonder if it was all going to be over before it started.

Even the thought that this wasn't as easy as the magazine porn stories made it sound, that his arms and legs had a distressing tendency to float, couldn't distract Xander. The feel of Spike's hands clutching at his hair, of Spike's tongue stroking his, was too immediate. Too there. The taste was pure Spike, old and dangerous and love and just a hint of chocolate cake. It was like they hadn't touched each other in days, and Spike was grinding against his cock and he was gasping in between kisses and jeez, it was too much.

When Spike pulled away Xander protested, reaching for him, seeking blindly for contact and Spike knocked his hands away almost violently. He couldn't understand until Spike came back with the lube, and thank god one of them was thinking, because he wasn't, not at all, unless you counted thinking with his crotch. He bit into the curve of pale neck and shoulder in front of him as Spike slicked him up. The water bubbling around them was hot, and Xander thought that it might start to boil soon, just from touching his skin. Especially if Spike kept that up, that firm stroke that made his hips rise and his thigh muscles cramp.

Just when he thought he might go crazy, Spike raised himself up, and took Xander in. Beautifully complete now, joined, and this was why, in case anyone wondered. Why Spike, he meant. Because beneath the bad singing and the worse jokes there was this unbelievable creature who bought him donuts, and fed him chocolate and fucked like the demon he was. Spike clutched Xander's shoulders hard enough to bruise, and tipped his head back, not really panting, didn't need to breathe. More like moaning, tight little sounds that pushed out of him with every thrust of Xander's cock into his ass. Those sounds made Xander's balls draw up tight, made his spine feel like it was going to snap in two, and he had to touch. He groped for Spike's cock, sliding his fingers over the silky skin, ghosting down over the soft sacs, stopping just at the place that they fit into one another.

There, he stroked right there, and it was too much for both of them. Spike's body clenched around him, and he rolled up into it. They cried out in unison, shuddering and gasping and everything poured out, until there was nothing left in them that the other hadn't seen. When it was over they floated, literally as well as figuratively, searching for the strength to move, not finding it for a long while.

Later, Xander wasn't sure how long, he pushed at Spike's shoulders and tried to move. "Spike, come on, get up. I'm all wrinkled, and my butt's numb."

"Yeah? How do you think mine feels?"

Snorting, Xander shoved Spike a bit and watched him drift away. The he tried to get up. He blood all seemed to be in his feet, though, because his head was light and empty. He listed to port, or was it starboard? Just before he toppled over, Spike grabbed him and hauled him out of the tub.

"Okay, time for all good pets to lie down for a minute and let their blood pressure come back up."

"Whoa. Hot tubs lower your blood pressure?"

"Well, not mine. Don't have any. Yours, though, yeah."

Someday, Xander thought, he might get over how weird it felt to have Spike carry him like he weighed nothing. Compared to Xander's solid bulk, Spike seemed compact, almost delicate. Ha! The room settled into only a mild spin as Spike tossed him onto the bed, and he watched the pretty colors swirl on the ceiling for awhile.

He woke up just after sundown. Spike was awake and dressed, sitting next to the window smoking a cigarette. "M'sorry," Xander said, a little muzzy. "Didn't mean to zonk out on you."

"No trouble." Spike stubbed out his cigarette and stood. He stretched mightily, and Xander stared. Debated a grand seduction scene. Decided he was too hungry.

"Feed me?" He didn't mean to whimper. It just came out that way.

"The age old cry of Xander. Come on, then. Up and at 'em." Clothing landed on his chest and wrapped around his head. Clawing his way free, Xander looked carefully at the black jeans and soft charcoal sweater he held.

"These aren't mine. Are you sure you didn't pack out of Angel's closet?"

"Nah. I bought them for you. Figured if I was going to be seen in public with you I'd rather you didn't rival the neon, pet."

"Gee thanks." Xander wasn't really insulted. Much. Okay, not at all when he saw the look on Spike's face after he was dressed. "Food first, Spike."

"Right. Got us reservations, we do. At the Excalibur."

"Isn't that where they do swordfights and stuff while you eat?"

"Yep. Food, drink, hacking and slashing. What more could you ask for?"

The Excalibur was a cross between a Renfaire and a shopping mall, with the casino downstairs and shops and entertainment upstairs. They sold things like dragon puppets and wizard hats. Xander had to physically restrain Spike from buying presents for Giles. He was sure Giles would thank him for it.

Dinner was served in true fake medieval style. He and Spike shared a trencher and they each had a giant flagon of something that might have been wine. Or maybe not. It was great fun, actually, but he wasn't about to admit it. Especially since Spike was enjoying the manly men whacking at each other with swords thing so much. There were other little melodramas to watch, and fire breathers, and it was kind of like trying to eat in the center ring at the circus.

Never one to keep his mouth shut when he should, Xander kept up a steady string of commentary on the whole experience. Things like, "This can't be sanitary, Spike." Or "Don't let them out!" when confronted by a serving wench's bodice, which pushed up and out. And out.

He blathered, just to see how much he could annoy Spike, until Spike reached into his duster and pulled out a pink and turquoise business card. "Oh look," he said. "Algernon's phone number. Shall I call him and have him join you back at the hotel since you're so bored being here with me?"

"Oh, look. Jousting." Xander stayed quiet for a while after that, knowing he'd won, sort of. At least he didn't think Spike was really mad, because if he wasn't Xander had won the annoying game. If Spike was really mad then he'd screwed up and it was really hard to tell when Spike got really snide like that, but he probably wouldn't offer to get Algernon if he were serious because Spike didn't share. His mind jolted abruptly out of babble mode when he felt Spike's hand on the inside of his knee, sliding upwards at a slow, sneaky rate.

Adjusting the tablecloth to better cover his lap, Xander slid down in his seat and let his legs fall open a bit, so Spike would have better access. Spike drew abstract patterns on the fleshy part of Xander's thigh, and Xander let out his breath on a relieved sigh. Not mad then. Not if Spike was touching him like that. Just getting some of his own back. Little circles of touch came closer and closer to the stiff zipper of his new jeans, and if Spike didn't stop that he would soon expand enough to meet them halfway.

A furtive glance around showed Xander that no one was paying them any attention, so he reached beneath the table and grabbed Spike's hand, pressing it palm first to his crotch. Oh yeah, that was it, just what he needed, and he bit back a moan when Spike squeezed just so.

He thought he heard Spike chuckle, but he couldn't be sure. He was a little distracted, after all. Spike had very talented fingers. Anyone who could do that with his hand at such an awkward angle had Xander's undying approval. Oh man, he hoped he was the only one who thought the sound of his zipper being lowered was really loud. Xander leaned forward and put his elbows on the table, making for an even worse position for Spike, but a better one for the tablecloth. Things were busting out all over, and he didn't particularly want everyone to see them.

Humping Spike's hand was out of the question. That would draw way too much attention to what they were doing, but it was damned hard to sit still and take it. Spike rubbed lightly at Xander's hard flesh, too lightly for his taste, thank you. He needed more pressure, more friction, more anything. He pressed his own hand over Spike's again in an attempt to get more of the glorious feeling. Spike stopped.

"Spike. What are you doing?" Xander heard the note of desperation in his voice, but was proud that he had managed to keep it low and quiet.

"Hands on the table, luv. This is my show, my way, or we don't do it at all."

"You're punishing me, aren't you?"

"Oh sure. I always give people I'm punishing a good yanking. Hands on the table."

Despite what Spike said, Xander knew he was being punished. He put his hands on the table, palms pressed flat, and Spike returned to what he'd been doing. It was all he could do not to moan out loud. That felt too good, but not really good enough. Soft, soft touches, up and down, just enough to make him squirm and pant. Feathery touches at the base. The tiny rasp of a fingernail just under the head. Xander was almost bouncing, little undulations of his hips on the seat. The crowd became a distant thing, something he was only vaguely aware of.

"Spike, please!"

Only Spike wasn't listening. He teased Xander for what seemed like hours, but was really only as long as the last fifteen minutes of the show. A monumental effort of sheer will kept Xander's eyes open, watching the show as Spike instructed him to. The inside of his lower lip hurt from biting into it, holding in those hungry noises that wanted to come out. Under the music and shouting and frenzy, Spike was saying things to him. Hot, make me crazy things about how good he felt, and who was the good little human?

The grand finale was coming to a close, with much sword clanging and trumpet blaring, when Spike finally found the rhythm he needed. Hard and fast. Hot friction, squeeze stroke, and as the show roared to a finish, so did Xander, choking off an exultant yell as spasmed in Spike's hand. Ever considerate, Spike cleaned him thoroughly with the napkin he'd put in his lap, then stuffed the napkin in his duster pocket.

Their waitress (she of the prodigious bosom) made the rounds not long after, bouncing up cheerily and asking them how they'd like the show.

Flashing her his most charming smile, Spike said, "It was very exciting. Wasn't it Xan?"

The girl turned to him, and Xander managed a weak smile. "Gmurphle."

"See, he's speechless."

That got them a wide grin, and a flash of truly frightening cleavage as the girl bent to clear their dishes away. "Well, glad you had a good time," she chirped.

"Oh, definitely," Spike replied, and the girl sashayed off, leaving a very smug Spike and a puddle of Xander behind.

The night as still young, so once they got Xander decent again, they headed out to act like stupid tourists. Spike stopped at the little convenience store in the Excalibur to buy a disposable camera, and Xander went directly to the Krispy Kreme stand. To get some for later, of course.

They wandered all over the Excalibur, then crossed the walking bridge between it and the Luxor hotel, which was Egyptian in theme. They wandered through shops full of scarabs and hieroglyphic signs. Then Spike spotted the camels. Full sized, animatronic camels that talked in silly British accents.

"Ooooh, Xan. Get over there so I can take a picture."

"You are not talking my picture with talking camels, Spike."

"Am too. I'm paying for this vacation, right? Now get over there."

"No, Anyašs paying for it, and no, no camels."

"Fine. But I won't be the one to explain to Anya why there are no pictures to prove that we were here spending her hard earned cash."

"Oh for. Fine." Xander clomped over to the camels and stood between their heads. "How's this?"

"Good." Just as he was about to take the shot, Spike stopped. "Oops. Almost forgot. Here, pet." He dug into his pocket and pulled out Hopalong Peter. (Xander was relieved that it wasn't the napkin from earlier.) "Put that up on the camel's head."

Argument would do no good. Xander heaved a resigned sigh and put Petey up on the camel's head. Spike took pictures. Spike took pictures of Xander and Hopalong Peter in front of Isis. And Ramses. And the stellae that framed one casino doorway. Xander only wished he could have gotten a picture of Spike humping the great phallic column in the lobby. Thy toured a replica of King Tut's tomb, and Spike insisted that they ride the Imax ride, which they both pronounced 'cheesy'. Still, Xander got a few gropes in while the lights were out, so it was well worth the ticket price.

From there it was on to Mandalay Bay, which was yet another casino attached by a walking bridge. Well, sort of. More like unending hallways that seemed to go nowhere. They played tag, and caused general panic among the other tourists by popping out at them from behind blind corners. They made a run for it when they saw security coming.

The rest of the trip through Mandalay Bay left them wondering what the theme of the place was really supposed to be, besides "expensive resort." They both decided they liked the outright tourist traps like the Excalibur better. They did like the nightclub with bare body part statues hanging out of the wall, though, and Xander liked the restaurant with an entire wall made of miniature flaming torches. Spike wasn't as fond of that one. They spent at least an hour in the Shark Reef exhibit, standing on opposite sides of the huge middle-of-the-floor fish tanks and making distorted sucking faces at each other.

The wee hours of the morning found them back at Caesaršs palace, at a craps table, gambling with money Spike had fronted from Anya's credit card. Spike was winning. The pile of chips in front of him was becoming almost embarrassing, and Xander hoped they didn't get thrown out or something. Maybe it was time for a distraction.

"Spike?"

"Um hmmm?" Spike was preoccupied with his dice. That would never do. Xander leaned closer and whispered so the croupier couldn't hear him.

"You know how you wouldn't let me go into that topless show in the Luxor, because you said I was too young for a strip club?"

"Mmm hmm."

"Did you know I used to work at one?"

That distracted Spike, all right. His head snapped around so fast that he bapped Xander on the nose with his forehead, causing them both to yelp. "What?"

"Yep. Ow. Talk about a mood killer."

Impatient, Spike pecked a kiss on the end of his abused appendage. "There, all better. Now about the stripping."

"Right. Well, I really wanted to see that show. But I didn't. I'm still in the mood for the spectacle though, so if you come back to the room now, I'll do one for you."

"I'm out, mate," Spike said, and loaded Xander's arms up with chips. "Well then, let's go cash in. I'll make sure I get some small bills so I have some to stuff in your unmentionables."

Honestly, Xander had no intention of following through on his offer once they got to the room. He had no real desire to relive the excruciating embarrassment of flopping his fish butt around on stage in a thong. Two things changed his mind. First, the unbelievable amount of money Spike retrieved from the payment window. He could use some of that, even if he did have to dig it out of his sweaty underwear. Second, the look in Spike's eyes. That really hot look, the one that told Xander he could not only get Spike back for the unexpected hand job during dinner, but also earn at least a week of constant adoration. It was worth it.

"Okay, you pick what you want me to strip out of, since you bought the clothes. And you can choose the music, but I swear to God, if you give me thrash metal, or something like my Conway Twitty tape I will stake you. Got it?" Xander put the Do Not Disturb sign on the door, and made sure it closed firmly behind him. Then locked both locks. "I'll be in the bathroom, getting ready."

Grinning, Xander grabbed up one of the Trucker's Delite bags, still full of wondrous toys, and slipped into the bath area. His last sight of Spike was of a blonde head sticking out of a whirling dervish of fabric. Doing a little jig, he started disrobing so he could wash up a little and put on a pair of butt floss undies. Spike knocked on the door, and Xander opened it a tiny crack to grab the stuff he was supposed to wear. It was a near thing, but he didn't quite slam Spike's fingers in the door.

Of course, when he saw what Spike had given him, he wished he had. "Holy shit, Spike," he hollered through the door. "When did you buy me leather pants? And how the heck am I supposed to get out of them without looking like and idiot?"

Apparently Spike was still right outside, because Xander could clearly hear him snigger. "Very slowly, love. You're going to have to make this one last. I intend to get my money's worth. Let me know when you're ready. I've got the music all set up for you."

Pride too, goeth before a fall, Xander thought. With a philosophical shrug, he struggled into the snug, black leather pants. They fit perfectly, and he got a little goofy there for a minute. You had to be awfully familiar with someone's body to buy them pants like this. Without them needing to try them on, that is. The thought didn't help the fit of the leathers one bit. After a minor adjustment, he reached for the rest of the clothes. There was a t-shirt, also black, that looked to be Spike's. There was a silk shirt, too, that was obviously for him. He couldn't bring himself to be mad about the Spike buying these. Sure, Spike hated his clothes. But he never really said much about it, except when they brought up each other's faults in a petty argument. So Spike buying him nice clothes for their vacation wasn't an insult. It was kinda sweet.

The shoes stayed off, and the socks came off before he went out. No matter what the porn movies would have him believe, Xander thought a man looked stupid in a g-string and white tube socks. Filling his lungs with a deep breath, Xander knocked on the door and yelled, "Ready when you are, Spike."

A throbbing beat started up in the other room, not too loud, as they didn't want the neighbors complaining. Kiss him or kill him, Xander wondered, because he recognized the song. It would be easy enough to strip to, but damn Spike anyway for his taste in music. Deciding he might as well get it over with, Xander flung the door wide and shook his ass out into the room to the opening strains of "Closer", by Nine Inch Nails.

It was more embarrassing than he expected, dancing for Spike. Hotter too. Spike sprawled in one of the club chairs at the far end of the room, stripped down to his jeans with the top few buttons undone. The single-minded intensity in Spike's heavy lidded gaze reminded Xander that Spike was a predator, through and through. He felt like he was teasing the lion at the zoo. It made heat rush to his face, and to his cock, and Spike's nostrils flared just a bit.

The silk shirt came off first, button by button, and his fingers fumbled as he swayed awkwardly in place. It slithered down his arms and fluttered to the floor, and Spike's whole body tensed, and it got easier. Just that little sign that Spike was loving this, that it was turning him on, gave Xander the confidence he needed to slide his hands up over the thin, soft cotton of the too tight t-shirt and pinch his nipples through it. Spike squirmed, and Xander let himself go one more notch, letting the music lead him now, feeling the beat pulsing in his chest and in his balls. The t-shirt was gone before he even thought about it. His one miserable experience taking his clothes off for money had never felt like this. He hadn't been dancing for Spike then, just a bunch of screaming women who, even after a lifetime on the Hellmouth, taught him that fear had depths he'd never dreamed of.

This was different. This was all about the little movements of Spike's hips in time with his, even though there was still a whole room between them. He hurt, and the thought startled him. Time to get out of those pants. He hadn't spent much time in them, but he'd had them on long enough that he knew he'd have to wear them again, once in a while, just to see that expression on Spike's face. The buttonholes were stiff, and they popped audibly as they released. Each tiny noise made Spike lean forward in his seat. Xander turned his back as he bent to pull the pants off, presenting Spike with a perfect view of his ass. It felt utterly ridiculous until he was rewarded with a frustrated growl.

"Hurry it up, pet."

The impatience only made him go slower, calmed him, and Xander luxuriated in the feel of soft-stiff leather sliding down his legs. He pushed the pants off his feet, giving a good wiggle in the process, then stood and turned to Spike. The only reason Spike wasn't drooling was because, well, Spike didn't drool as far as Xander knew. But he did have a hand down the front of his jeans, rubbing himself as he watched Xander gyrate across the room in his little string bikini. He didn't even laugh at the penguin printed on the front pouch. What he did do was wave a fifty-dollar bill in Xander's general direction, then waggled his hand a "come here, little boy" motion.

All of this took less time than Xander imagined; the song was only half over when he reached Spike's chair. He danced around Spike, shaking his groove thing with abandon now, lost to the feeling of hands on him, brushing against all the naughty places. A fleeting touch on his ass, another barely there rub against his thigh, and he was ready to melt. His skin radiated heat, sweat ran down his chest, and Spike caught Xander's hips to hold him still as he leaned forward to lick it off.

Something snapped, either Spike, or the strings on his underwear, and Xander straddled Spike's legs for an impromptu lap dance. They ground against each other to the driving beat of the music, convulsive movements that made them both groan. Then Spike lifted Xander with that casual, brutal strength, so he could skin his jeans down around his thighs. Hardness against hardness then, a frenzy of sliding flesh and panting breaths that lasted after the final wavering note of the music died. It went on and on until Xander felt his spine draw impossibly tight, and his whole body arched back away from Spike, rigid with release. Spike shouted, a triumphant sound, and dug his fingers into Xander's skin to hold him there while he gave into his own orgasm.

When they finally recovered enough to peel themselves apart, they headed for the shower. Stopping just long enough to pick his hard earned cash up off the floor, Xander asked, "So was it worth it?"

"Worth every penny and then some, Xan."

God it was nice to sleep himself out after vigorous physical activity. Xander was getting very spoiled after only two days of not having to go to work, squeeze in as much time as he could with his friends, spend time with Spike, then get up and work some more. Not that he didn't like his job, because for the first time in his history of miserable employment opportunities, he did. But it was nice to wake up sometime around noon and know there was nowhere to be. Nowhere but here, with Spike's weight on his chest, and Spike's face tucked into the hollow of his neck and shoulder.

Rubbing one leg up against Spike's where they were wrapped together produced a tickly, scratching sensation as hair caught and pulled. By contrast, Spike's back was smooth, the skin soft and fine under his hand. With all of its usual styling gunk washed out of it, Spike's hair was fluffy and just a bit coarse from the bleach, and it stuck up in wild cowlicks under Xander's chin. Yeah, it was nice to be able to savor these things.

Except that he had to pee. As usual. So he detached his Spikey limpet and ignored the ominous rumbling that came from the rearranged pile of limbs as he climbed out of bed. Stretching and scratching, Xander staggered off in the general direction of the bathroom, and tripped over something that tangled up his feet and sent him crashing to the floor with a resounding thud.

"Oooph."

"Wha... Where? I'm on it." Spike popped up off the bed and assumed a fighting stance. He looked like a sleepy, bed head version of a Greek statue. Which was both amusing and arousing. Or would have been if Xander's hip didn't feel like it someone hit it with a baseball bat.

"Just me Spike, being my usual graceful self." Xander fumbled at his feet. "I tripped over, sheesh, the leather pants, of all things. Sorry I woke you up."

Blinking, Spike took in Xander's inelegant sprawl on the floor. "Oh. Well, do you need help?"

"Nope. I'll just crawl to the bathroom on my one unbroken leg, thanks."

"If you can make cracks like that, you're fine." Dismissing Xander's distress, Spike made his way to the club chair he's sat in last night, flopped (in all sorts of places) into it, dug his cigarettes out of the pile of stuff on the table, and lit up. Apparently he was ready to watch the show.

"Thanks. Your concern for my welfare overwhelms me." It was a struggle, but Xander untangled and righted himself. Well, okay he put more wiggle into it than was strictly necessary, but Spike deserved the tease. He limped to the bathroom and came out several minutes later, much refreshed and wearing a hotel bathrobe. Which made Spike frown at him. "So what are we doing today? We can go out and do stuff in the hotel without you getting fried, no windows in the casino. And besides, we need to let them in some time to clean the room, or it's gonna get pretty skanky."

"Yeah. I thought we'd go see the ceiling."

"The ceiling?"

"The shopping place here. Supposed to have this ceiling that mimics the daytime sky, all blue with clouds. But no real windows, it's all enclosed."

Spike's voice was casual, offhand even, but Xander wasn't fooled. No wonder Spike wanted to stay at this particular hotel. He could wander around all day and see the sky, even if it was fake, and not worry about fatal sunburn. "Well, let's get dressed and go. You can buy me food, and then we'll lay on our backs on the floor and make cloud pictures until they ask us to leave."

The Fountain of the Gods in the main shopping area had really nice benches around it. They made a particularly good spot to lie down and look at the clouds. Especially after Spike scared all the little kids away so they could both fit. They were stretched out head to head, and Xander's hair flopped over onto Spike's, which made his scalp feel funny every time he moved. The fountain itself was pretty impressive, and he and Spike had spent long minutes studying the endowments of the major deities. Spike had made him pose too, stupid tourist poses with little Hoppy Pete in every frame. But now they just looked at the fake sky and watched the clouds move lazily overhead.

"Look, luv. It's the DeSoto."

"No it's not. It's my old Chevy."

"Git."

"Moron."

It was silent for a few minutes, then Spike said, "My God. Now it's the Watcher's old car."

Squinting, Xander could indeed see the Citroen. "Shit. You're right. Weird." They both sighed. "Spike? Can I ask you a question?"

"You usually do, pet. You know, Spike will you get me ice cream? Spike, do you think my butt looks fat in the pants?"

"Very funny. I'm serious."

"Yeah? Okay, lay it on me."

"Do you miss it?"

Spike didn't ask what he meant. "Not most of the time, no. More, since I've been with you. You remind me what it's like to be human, you know."

"Is that bad?"

"Nah. Before, with the chip? I mostly missed being a real vamp. You know, Big Bad and all. And before that, I never needed to think about it, did I? But I gotta tell you, pet. Where I come from the sky never looked like this anyway."

"This is good, though, right?"

Moving back just a bit, Spike rubbed the crown of his head against Xander's. "Yeah. This is good."

Neither of them broke the silence for a long while after that, well, if you could call it silence with the fountain splashing and the kids yelling and the constant hum of music and talking. Xander wondered sometimes if a place like this was enough to overload Spike's vamp senses. All those sounds and smells. Did his instincts scream at him, "this is your food!" or was he able to bury that under the amazingly un-demon-like spirit he had? That was one question he never really got the nerve to ask.

Xander's stomach growled. Loudly. Spike chuckled. "So speaketh the bottomless pit. I take it you want to eat?"

"Well, I wouldn't say no to something of the edible variety. I'd try to look pathetic, but you can't see my face, so it would be a wasted effort."

"Yeah, alright, food for you. And sometime tonight I'm going to have to call out for room service of my own, I'm getting low."

"They deliver here?"

"They do, indeed."

"Wow. You really can get anything in Las Vegas."




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