With some trepidation, I present my first (completed) fanfic ever - 5 x 100 word Spander paragraphs written in response to entrenous88's ratings challenge.
Starts at G, works up to NC-17
Bite Your Tongue
Spike watched, bemused, as Xander wandered around the messy basement picking up loose bits of clothing and stuffing them haphazardly into the washing machine. Did the boy really have so little idea what he was doing?
All his evil instincts were screaming at him to bite his tongue. Not literally. Why did he care, anyway?
His internal struggle continued right up until Xander set the temperature dial on "hot". Finally, he couldn’t stand it any longer.
“You idiot, if you put that horrible red check shirt in there you’re going to be wearing pink knickers the rest of the year.”
Xander jumped in surprise, and desisted trying to shove his sneakers into an over-full washer. “Jeez, Spike, I thought you were asleep! Could you, I don’t know, cough or something once in a while? I get the whole not-needing-to-breathe, but it’s kind of off-putting to us non-undead types, you know.”
“Non-undead?!” Spike said, disbelievingly.
Xander flushed. “Alive! And I like my shirt. And since when do you know how to do laundry?”
Spike rolled his eyes. “Bloody hell, Harris, I did Dru’s laundry for years. I’m an expert on frilly knickers. She favoured black, though, not pink.”
Xander’s eyes glazed over momentarily as he imagined Drusilla in lacy black underthings. Drusilla beckoning Spike to her bed. Spike undressing – did he even wear underthings? Spike and Drusilla wrapped around each other – Spike stretched out naked on a rumpled bed, just as he now stretched out on the sofa…
But not naked! No! No naked Spike in his basement. No naked, dead (sexy) men allowed. He snapped back into the present to find Spike staring quizzically at him.
“Mate? You in there?”
Xander took refuge in indignation. “I don’t wear knickers! I mean… Well, not frilly ones!”
Spike arched an eyebrow, and let the pause go on too long. “Yeah. Cos you’re so manly and all.”
Xander suddenly, unexpectedly laughed. “Okay, Daffy Duck isn’t exactly macho. At least I wear boxers. What’ve you got under those painted-on black jeans?”
This time the pause was definitely too long. Xander caught his breath, as his heart sped to double-rhythm. As Spike, holding his gaze intensely, moved his hands to his crotch and very slowly unzipped his fly to reveal pale, pale skin. A complete absence of underwear. And an erection to match the one surging in Xander’s pants.
Xander licked his lips nervously. How had this gotten so out of control, so fast?
“Know you want it,” Spike purred, stroking his cock teasingly. “Can smell it.”
Xander moaned, unconsciously moving his own hand to his aching hard-on.
Spike snarled, leaping up and pushing Xander back against the washer. “Mine,” he hissed, licking up Xander’s neck and removing his sweatpants. Xander whimpered as Spike jerked him expertly, and cried out when Spike turned him over the washer and prepared him hurriedly but thoroughly.
As he buried his erect cock in Xander’s hot, tight ass, Spike bit his tongue. Literally.