Xander's Favorite Stake

by
Dustandroses



“I hate you, Spike.  I hate you with a deep and abiding passion.  If you say one more word to me, I’m gonna kill you so hard, they’ll be getting the fallout from your dust in Nevada.”

Spike managed to look down on him, despite the fact that he was actually shorter than Xander by a couple of inches.  “Surely the bitterness of death is at hand,” he drawled disdainfully.

Xander clutched his favorite stake so tightly it was painful.  “You know, I’d probably be more upset if I knew what the hell you were talking about, but I can’t be bothered to find out.”  

Screaming, he launched himself at Spike, the stake with Spike’s name on it raised high.  He knew it was pure luck that he managed to scrape his weapon down Spike’s left arm as the vampire belatedly dodged out of Xander’s way, a look of pure shock on his face.  He felt the same amazement that Spike must have felt, because instead of pushing his advantage with another strike, Xander just stood there watching as Spike touched his wounded bicep, his fingers coming away smeared with blood.

It wasn’t a big wound; merely a jagged scratch that started below the sleeve of Spike’s t-shirt.  It was only about three inches long, and not especially deep.  It bled freely, though, the bright red drops twisting their way down as they followed the well-formed muscles of his forearm.  Spike’s eyes sparked gold with his anger, but his only move was to lick the smears of blood off his fingertips.  His lips lifted in a sneer, as if to say “Is this the best you can do?”

Xander felt the arousal rumble in his belly like hunger, as he watched Spike lick his fingers.  He was almost paralyzed by its intensity, but he refused to be out cooled by Spike.  He smiled smugly and raised the stake to his lips, licking off the drops of blood that stained the wood.  The blood popped and sizzled on his tongue, and his eyes widened in surprise at the taste.  Holy shit – that was good – like chocolate pop rocks!  He found himself sucking on the end of the polished wood of the stake, heedless of splinters, licking the tip for one last taste.  

He should have known better, he kept this stake sharp for a reason.  With one last lick, bright pain sliced though him as the tip of the stake cut his tongue and his mouth filled with his blood.  Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was disappointed at the flavor – it was not nearly as tasty as vampire blood.  Why hadn’t anyone ever told him about that?

Suddenly, Spike was right there, flicking in and out of game face, mere inches from Xander’s own.   He tried to rear back, shocked by the proximity, but Spike’s right hand shot up, holding Xander’s head in place as he breathed deeply, nostrils flaring at the scent of Xander’s blood.  Raising his left hand, Spike traced Xander’s lips with fingers dripping with his own blood, and Xander licked it up eagerly, mixing it with his own as he tried to get all of Spike’s blood that he could.

They were kissing before Xander even realized it, bodies writhing together as Spike sucked on his tongue, moaning with pleasure, worrying the cut, getting every drop of warm human blood he could out of it.  Xander’s mind had frozen somewhere around the time he’d first tasted vamp blood, but that was a good thing, because he knew it would be warning Xander to think about what he was doing, and that was the last thing he wanted.  

Eventually, had to pull out of the kiss, lack of oxygen forcing him to gasp, but Spike didn’t give him a chance to think.  Pushing him backwards, Spike guided him stumbling to some hero’s monument then pressed him up against it and stuck his bloody fingers in Xander’s mouth.  Xander started to suck, eyes closing in bliss as Spike murmured nasty things in his ear about how much he liked the fact that Xander was already trained to suck on Spike, anytime he got near Xander’s mouth.

There was wonderful, sinful pressure up against his cock and Xander bucked his hips, moaning as Spike worked their bodies together, beautiful friction building up a powerful charge that he could tell was already near to exploding.  He grabbed Spike’s ass with both hands, pulling him even closer.  Pressing his fingers into the cleft of Spike’s ass, Xander ran his nails along the seam of his tight jeans.   

Spike sucked heavily at his pulse point.  In a moment of inspiration, Xander let Spike’s fingers slip from his mouth, and snaked his head around to target the flesh between Spike’s shirt and his neck.  He bit into the muscle there, teeth griping tightly together to break the skin.  Spike’s wordless shout was a distant whisper compared to the flood of sensation that rushed over Xander.  Fresh from the source, Spike’s blood roared through him, the sensations hitting him too fast to separate.  His orgasm struck him forcefully as he shuddered in Spike’s grip, his body jerking and shaking like he’d been struck with a jolt of electricity.

When he came to, Xander was slumped against the monument, panting heavily, small tremors running through him sporadically.  His underwear was a cold, sticky mess under the spreading wet spot on his jeans.  Spike was flat on his back in front of him, arms and legs starfished around him, his own wet spot staining his crotch.  

After the first shock of reaction at Spike’s lack of breath, Xander laughed aloud.  Spike was as big a mess as Xander was – puffy, bloodstained lips, blond hair sticking up in all directions, blood all over his arm and hand.  His face was slack in sleep and his mouth hung slightly open.

Frowning, Spike turned his face toward Xander, cracking open one eye.  “Can’t a guy get a well-deserved post-shag kip without that loud mouth of yours waking him up?”

Xander levered himself slowly to his feet, and shook his head at the sight Spike made, lying there on the grass.  He knew he should be furious at Spike for something, and he was sure at some point he’d remember what that was, but at the moment, he couldn’t care less.  Of course, if they argued again, they could have more loud, angry sex, and that had turned out to be a damn good thing and well worth the effort of getting all pissed off.   

He reached out a hand to Spike.   “C’mon, Blondie.  If we hurry, we can get to my apartment before this stuff crusts over and it’s too hard to move.  Hot shower sound good to you?”

Spike raised one eyebrow, studying Xander for a moment before nodding decisively.  He ignored Xander’s hand and jumped to his feet with far more energy and grace than Xander could lay claim to.

“Right, then.  I get first dibs on the shower.  If you get in there first, you’ll use up all the hot water.”

He stalked off, leaving Xander behind, gaping at him.  What an asshole.  He was beginning to remember exactly why he wanted the sexy, fucking bastard dead.  Or deader, as the case may be.  He bent over and grabbed his favorite stake from where it had landed when things had gotten complicated, then strode off after Spike, fingering the sharp tip.  

He had to shake his head to clear his mind of the sudden image of himself, balls deep inside Spike, fucking that bad attitude right out of him.  Xander smiled grimly.  He had a feeling that, one way or another, Spike was getting staked before the sun was up.



The End