Let's Talk About Sex
Part Twenty-Three A
Dancing with Death
If Xander doesn't find me desirable anymore, at least Spike does. Visibly. Anya thought - not without a certain amount of defiance. The vampire's obvious interest was flattering. Good for her self-esteem. Since her relationship with Xander was on the verge of breaking up - even if he still denied it - she needed every boost of confidence she could get. Which is why she had accepted the vampire's offer to dance.
He was also more than pleasant to look at, she had noticed. As long as she had been with Xander, ogling other men had been a big no-no. And, so far, being faithful hadn't been difficult. In fact, she had wondered a few times what it was that made humans cheat on each other.
Now she knew. Hormones! And fighting. But most of all hormones. I wonder, if the fighting is caused by hormones, too... Was it possible she had spent over a thousand years dishing out vengeance on innocent people who had merely fallen victim to an imbalance in their body chemistry?
...Undead undead undead...
Dancing was wonderful. She had never before realized just how sensual an experience it could be. If she had, she probably wouldn't have agreed to dance with Spike.
She met his eyes. His look could only be described as smoldering. He wanted her. Once more, her gaze involuntarily dropped to the bulge in his pants before being drawn to his eyes again. He pulled her closer and she let him. She felt his hardness against her thigh, not demanding but promising. She felt herself returning the pressure.
Stupid human body! she thought, for the first time at odds with her humanity.
Why did human bodies react the way they did? Why did hers ever decide that Alexander Harris was the one man to interlock with, and why had it suddenly changed its mind? Why did the vampire make her all hot? When she didn't even particularly like him.
And why was her hand roaming under Spike's T-shirt?
His flesh was hard and muscular under her caress. But his skin was smooth, pleasantly so. She let her hand glide from his waist to his spine and upwards between his shoulder blades. She thought about the fact that Xander never liked her to touch him this ostentatiously in public. The vampire just raised his eyebrow and smiled cockily.
This was the first male body, other than Xander's, that her hands set out to explore. He was warmer than expected, but then, the dance floor was warmed by the body heat of scores of dancers. Plus, the spotlights and lamps heated the air further. In this warm environment, the vampire could almost pass as human.
Anya didn't share Xander's aversion to vampires or Buffy's dislike of Spike in particular. Spike was a vampire. What did they expect? For one of the undead, Spike was actually not so bad. He hadn't hired any killers to take them out, he didn't smell of earth or anything worse, he helped them, even if not always enthusiastically, and he didn't beat around the bush. He usually said what he thought, a trait Anya found sadly lacking in her fellow humans.
Spike leaned closer. "Harris is a moron," he said. "I'd shag you in a heartbeat, Anyanka." There was amusement in his gaze, but also desire. "But then again, Harris hasn't got a vampire's stamina."
She wasn't surprised when a cool hand slid smoothly under her blouse to rub her waist and then sneak round to the small of her back. His fingers slid between the waistband of her jeans and her back, downwards, with slow determination. Not greedily, just teasingly.
"I believe it probably happens to all humans." Anya mused. "After the... novelty wears off, their sexual interest declines and the deepness of their feelings does too."
The music changed to a slower song, more sensual.
"Well, I'm not human," Spike said with a shrug, not taking his eyes off her face. Which excited her.
Anya stared back, weighing her options. Stupid stupid human body! she thought without much conviction as the touch of his hands sent a shiver of anticipation through her.
...This is a breathless silence
A moment out of time
I see your face in the shadows
The tell-tale signs are in your eyes...
Over a century! He stayed with Drusilla for over a hundred years - and he'd still be with her if she hadn't cheated on him. He loves her, still.Anya couldn't help being impressed. Fidelity scored big marks with what was left of Anyanka in her.
But tonight he wanted her and she wanted him. And Xander had spurned her.
...Aching with a passion inside
Deep as the river
He held her tight and brought his mouth close to her ear. "I want you, Anya. I want you so bad," he said just loud enough for her to make out the words, his breath was fanning her ear. The way he said 'bad' sent a shiver down her spine. Or was it the way his lips 'accidentally' brushed her earlobe?
"Shh. I want to make you feel how bad I want you."
Smiling, he pulled back, never letting go of her hand. His fingers intertwined with hers, playfully caressing, teasing. He was walking backwards, pulling her with him, off the dance floor. His coat was billowing around him like the leathery wings of a bat. His eyes were focused on her, with burning intensity. His smile was that of a predator certain of his prey.
He lifted her hand to his lips and lightly licked the inside of her palm, making her feel hot and cold at the same time.
...Forever in this half-light
She followed him.
He led her outside. It was a warm night. There was no physical need to shiver, yet she did. There was a fairly secluded spot in the back alley of the building, next to a parked delivery van.
He was still holding her hands. He raised one arm and gave her a slight tug, as if they were still dancing, leading her into a spin that brought her into his arms. She was leaning against him, her arms crossed in front of her, cradled by him. He pressed his erection against her ass, slowly grinding his hips against her. And then she felt him nbble lightly on her earlobe, nipping her throat teasingly. She could hear him panting. Her own breathing wasn't any slower.
His lips wandered along her throat to her collarbone, kissing and nibbling. His hands released hers to move to the buttons of her blouse. One by one her buttons were undone, slowly but deftly, while a cool tongue teased her heated skin. His body was undulating against hers with increasing urgency as his hands searched for the bra's clasp. When he didn't find it he simply tore it and stuffed the shreds into the pocket of his duster.
"Hey," Anya exclaimed in protest, momentarily startled. "Do you know how much..."
"Shh, I'll buy you a new one," Spike interrupted huskily, cupping her breasts with both hands and stilling her protest by making her moan instead.
She was beginning to feel slightly unsteady. There was a wall with a half torn 'Dingoes' poster right in front of her. She supported herself against that wall, bracing herself for the increasing intensity of Spike's thrusts. His left hand wandered to the button of her jeans. Then the zip. He pushed her pants down a little bit, just enough to allow him access. Finally his hand slid down into her panties and into her soft curls.
"Spike," she whispered. Just his name. She arched her back and neck. Cold lips returned to her throat, yet it didn't even occur to her to be afraid.
"Anyanka," he murmured. And then something cool slid between her thighs, caressing her moist and hot cleft. His fingertips stroked her softly, circling her clit and teasing her opening. Somehow, Spike had quickly found a rhythm that would soon bring her release, without her even having to tell him what she liked. Over a hundred years of experience. The thought came unbidden and was quickly forgotten, because what he was doing to her felt so good.
Suddenly, when she could already feel her orgasm building, those wonderful fingers were withdrawn. She dimly realized from the lack of pressure on her back and the sounds he was making, that Spike was opening his pants.
She turned around. He was beautiful in his arousal. His eyes were dark and hungry, his lips parted. She reached for the back of his head and pulled him towards her, into a crushing kiss, plundering his mouth with her tongue. Meanwhile she let her right hand roam over his taut stomach, downwards until she met his hands. He had already succeeded in opening his belt. She continued with the unfamiliar buttons, a bit clumsily, because Xander wore pants with zips, but finally she succeeded in freeing his stiff cock from its confines.
She could hear his sharp intake of breath as her hot fingers enveloped his cold but hard erection. "Yeah, oh good, Ahn..." he moaned.
If Xander ever found out about this, he'd be furious. And why did I just think of Xander? Anya thought, unpleasantly distracted from her pursuit of the pleasure moment. Xander wouldn't just be jealous - which would serve him right - but he'd also feel hurt and betrayed. Rightly so! But if she were to be completely honest with herself, she didn't want to hurt Xander. Not like this.
"No!" Anya abruptly exclaimed. "Spike, stop!"
"I'm sorry, I can't. I can't do something I have spent over a thousand years punishing other people for."
He stood there, his erection protruding from his half opened pants, his shirt untidy, his hair unruly, his mouth open, staring at her incredulously. Until her words sank in. She could see the murderous rage building behind those expressive blue eyes. For a moment she was genuinely scared, but then she remembered the chip. So did he, apparently, because although his fists were clenched and his jaw muscles were tense he stayed in his human guise, panting furiously, barely restraining himself.
She knew then that one day she'd pay for today's humiliation. Is there a vengeance demon who takes on chipped vampires as clients?
"Spike," she said as firmly as she could, "it's nothing personal. I find you very attractive and I want to have sex with you. But not now. I haven't even broken up with Xander. Until I have, I won't cheat on him." Her body was still tingling with want and she wasn't sure if she'd be able to resist, if Spike decided to continue stimulating her. But she was proud of herself for resisting her stupid human body's hormone induced cravings.
The vampire didn't look like he had heard a word of what she had said. He was trembling with rage and the effort of controlling himself. "You... you..." he was obviously speechless.
I can't leave him like that, Anya thought. I have put the plague on men for playing with women's expectations like that. There must be something I can do...
"Spike!" she said, a bit louder. "Shut up!" She yanked him around so his shoulders touched the wall. And then she knelt in front of him and took his stiff shaft into her hand.
He clearly hadn't expected her to do that, because he produced a strangled sound and bucked involuntarily.
He looked down at her, and she met his confused gaze evenly. "Just because I can't have any sex, it doesn't mean you can't," she explained. His fury dissipated visibly.
"Anyanka, you really have yer own brand of logic, girl." His last words turned into a moan because Anya began to stroke him. "Not complainin', mind you," he hurried to add.
She studied his penis attentively. It looked and felt quite different from Xander's circumcised member. Strangely pale. As if made of marble. And it was cool in her hands. Well, not for long.
She ran her fingers over his hardness, exploring it tenderly at first, but then stroking more firmly. She didn't know what he liked, but Spike was a talker, unlike Xander, who still got embarrassed when asked to voice his preferences. Spike knew no such restraint.
"Oh yes, Anya, good. Do that again... yeah. Slow down, oh my..."
She looked up and saw him tilting his head backwards, and arching his back. It pleased her to see that she was able to give him pleasure. She moistened her lips, and then she turned her concentration back to matters at hand. Without prior warning she closed her wet lips on the tip of his shaft, before slowly taking him deeply into her mouth.
He exhaled with a surprised gasp, a deliciously helpless sound. He beat his fists against the wall, leaning against it for support. Somehow he managed to keep his hips still.
She let one hand knead his still clothed buttock, again amazed at the firmness of his flesh. The other hand snuck between his legs to cup his balls, while her lips and tongue were pleasuring him.
"You're so hot... that's it..."
He buried his hand in her hair.
Anya had hoped her desire would decrease without his hands on her body, but it hadn't diminished in the least. Her body still wanted to interlock with his. Badly. She knew it was all ready for him. Her breasts longed for his touch and her sheath wanted to feel his hardness inside her. That's what human bodies were evidently made for.
Suddenly she heard steps behind her. She didn't stop until she heard a feral, threatening snarl from Spike. She looked up and saw that he was wearing his bestial face. She turned to follow his gaze and saw two vampires backing off. When she looked at Spike's face again, the bony ridges and fangs had disappeared. In their place was a smug smile. She licked the tip of his cock, then gave it a slight nibble and heard him moan, the smugness gone.
"Christ!" he said hoarsely.
She began to stroke his member more firmly and as the fingers between his legs became more daring, her lips engulfed his length. He made an incoherent sound, as he tried to keep his hips from bucking wildly. "Yes, oh yes, go on," her urged her on. "Yes, there, God, do that again...yes... I'm...close..."
He came with a strangled howl, shooting into her ready mouth. She looked up to met his wide-eyed gaze, before she swallowed his come without hesitation. He looked pleased. His breathing slowed. He pulled her up and tried to kiss her again, but stopped when she pulled back.
He studied her for a moment, then he cocked his eyebrow.
"That was fun, luv," he said languidly. "Let me know if you ever fancy an encore. Any time."
She just nodded and began to rearrange her clothing, her face flushed from exertion and unfulfilled lust.
He searched the pockets of his duster, grinning momentarily as his fingers brushed against the remains of her bra, and pulled out his cigarettes.
"Want one?" he offered.
"Why would I shorten the already far too brief life span of my body unnecessarily?"
"Suit yourself, luv," he shrugged, clearly not insulted. He lit his fag and inhaled deeply - never mind the cliché, he always liked a smoke after sex. He began to button up his pants. "So, where we goin' now?"
"How would you like to go and visit a frat party on campus?" Anya asked. "The others will be there, too."
"Isn't that a bit tame?" But he knew he'd come along, if only for the free drinks.
"Perhaps," Anya said. "But if you're lucky Xander and I will break up there. And then you and I might get a chance to have sex, after all."
Spike nodded. He smiled. Her smell was still clinging to his fingers. "Yeah right, sounds like a plan, luv."
Part Twenty-Three B
This was stupid. Ridiculous! He was a vampire, for God’s sake! No one expects a vampire to keep a promise, let alone one made in the throes of sexual passion. No one.
“So, why do I bother?” he asked, shaking his head in exasperation.
He was leaning against his car (which was parked inconspicuously on a dark part of the street, a good hundred yards further down the road), smoking and studying his target.
There was no reply. He hadn’t expected one.
He took another drag from his cigarette and flicked the butt away. He crossed the deserted street, squatted in front of the door and carefully began to pick the lock, hoping the damn place didn’t have a burglar alarm.
“I mean it’s not like I haven’t got anything better to do…”
He fiddled about for a few minutes, growing more and more impatient. The fact that he usually just barged into whatever place he wanted to ransack hadn’t exactly helped him hone his burglary skills.
“Bollocks!” The lock pick snapped, its tip wedged inside the lock.
He walked back to the deSoto, opened the trunk and got out a crowbar. He sauntered back to the recalcitrant door and tried to force the door open without causing too much damage. He wanted to be able to close the door behind him, so he’d have plenty of time for his mission. Without having to worry about cops or an errant Slayer – or worse: other vampires.
This was definitely not the kind of place he wanted to be seen in.
With a loud crack, the wood splintered. He slowly opened the door. He felt it connect with the chime. His hand shot up to silence it. He slipped inside, closed the door and released the bell.
He didn’t bother to turn on any lights. He could see the goods well enough. There were so many racks he hardly knew where to start. He wandered through the shop, picking up items and discarding them, opening boxes and squinting at labels.
Suddenly, a female figure wearing nothing but an almost transparent bra, lacy knickers, a matching garter belt, and silk stockings caught his attention. Silk and lace in black and dark burgundy. Just the right mixture of class and naughtiness.
Without hesitation he brought his arms round the slim and smooth waist. His fingers searched for the clasp of the bra. Suddenly he had the whole torso in his hand and the lower part off the figure toppled with a crash, knocking over a vase or something.
He undid the clasp and dropped the upper torso of the mannequin. He checked the size - 32C. Bingo! - pocketed the bra and picked up the lower portion to tuck it under his arm.
He opened the door of the shop and peered outside. No cops, no Slayer, no other vampires, thank heavens.
He quickly left the shop, careful not to lose the legs. He was quite relieved to reach his car without being seen. He threw the half-mannequin on the backseat and quickly and skillfully undressed it. “Peelin’ stiffs out of their clothes? Now that’s something I’m really good at,” he mumbled. Then he dumped the doll and made his getaway.
An hour later he stood outside of Anya’s small flat. He knew, sooner or later she’d turn up. This was the one day of the week when she didn’t stay at the Harris basement overnight. Something to do with the laundry schedule of Mrs. H.
He had gotten through half a pack of cigarettes, when he heard a car approaching. Harris, driving his uncle’s car, a decrepit piece of junk. Someone should truly put that piece of machinery out of its misery.
Hm, I wonder if that soddin’ chip will allow me to fiddle with the brakes a bit…
He watched Anya get out of the car. Nice legs. She and Xander exchanged a few words, then donut boy drove off.
Knowing he couldn’t be spotted in the rear view mirror, Spike quickly crossed the road before the ex-demon had a chance to close the door behind her.
“Got something for you,” he said, giving her a start. She turned around, momentarily frightened, but then she recognized him.
“Spike! What are you doing here? I hope you’re not stalking me. I tortured stalkers not too long ago. I still have friends in the business I could call if you don’t have a good reason for being here.”
“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Anyanka. Told you. Got somethin’ for ya. A guy’s got to keep his promises, don’t he,” he said, handing her a slightly battered cardboard box.
She took it with a surprised frown.
“I’m not inviting you in,” she said bluntly.
“I didn’t ask you to.”
She warily looked at the box. At him. At the box.
“Xander and I made up,” she told him.
“I know,” he said evenly. Doesn’t mean it’ll last, does it.
She took off the lid and gasped, both surprised and pleased. She held the box with one hand and used the other to lift the contents out, holding them up so she could see them in the light of the street lamp. Anya clearly liked what she saw.
She put them back into the box, and caressed the delicate fabric, feeling the softness of the silk and the sensuousness of lace. He took in the way she flushed with pleasure, inhaled her scent. Yes, Anya was certainly a hottie!
“Spike, this is… this is so beautiful,” she exclaimed. “It’s also more expensive than the bra you ruined, so… I suppose I should just keep the bra and give the rest back to you.”
“Somehow I don’t think I’ll be needing silk stockings and a garter belt. Don’t go well with my duster, pet,” he grinned. “Just keep the stuff. No strings attached. Think of it as interest paid.”
And I’ll think of it as an investment.
She put the lid back on and clutched the box possessively. She awkwardly leaned forward and gave him a very formal kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Spike.”
“My pleasure. See you around, sweetie.”
He walked off, sexy swagger on full power, knowing his duster looked great, billowing around him like that. He didn’t turn round to look back because it would ruin the effect. He climbed into the deSoto and drove off.
“Why did I bother?” He smiled and lit himself another smoke. “Cause you never know…”
The music Spike and Anya dance to
The Sounds of Silence
Jerking off without making a sound was a skill Xander hadn't practiced for a long time. It was something you picked up in summer camp (his parents only ever sent him once) and perfected when you were forced to share your room with a bunch of cousins who'd take any opportunity to sneer or make fun of you.
Xander could vividly recall the summer holiday of 1997, the vacation before Buffy had come to Sunnydale. Uncle Rory and his entire family had invaded the Harris home like locusts, while their own home was being rebuilt and renovated after one of Aunt Becky's Sunday roasts had set the kitchen on fire.
During the Summer of 97 wanking had been one of few pleasures in Xander's life. What else was there to do? Willow had been away on holiday with her parents. The customary Harris barbecues regularly erupted into drunken arguments (Xander's father and Uncle Rory did not get along very well). Xander had been recruited to help with the renovations but despite the fact that Uncle Rory's insurance had paid for the damage (unaware that Aunt Becky had been pretty drunk when causing the fire), Xander was only paid a few perfunctory dollars.
1997 had been the last of a number of boring summers. He and Jesse had often discussed the physical attributes of Tracy Lords and Pamela Anderson and how high school bitch Cordelia Chase made both women look positively attainable by comparison.
I wonder what Spike did that summer? The thought popped into Xander's head out of nowhere. But imagining Spike with Drusilla, romping around somewhere in Europe, killing, maiming and 'shagging' - well that was just the wrong image.
He brought his thoughts back on track.
...Naked Spike, in the bathtub, his blonde hair all wet and unruly, without all that gel, Spike pouring water over his finely chiselled chest...
Now, that's a nice visual!
Xander forced his breathing to stay regular. His erection had refused to disappear on its own, and after spending a restless quarter of an hour listening to Anya's breathing and the faint sounds from the other side of the door (footsteps, the ping of the microwave, running water and finally music so faint, it was unidentifiable) he had finally decided to get in touch with himself - like the olden days.
Well not quite as in old times. He was fantasizing about a man this time, not about big tits. Although... he still liked blond hair. Oh yeah, very much!
Carefully avoiding tell-tale vibrations or sounds he was slowly stroking his shaft. Holding it between thumb and two fingers he only moved his index and middle finger to caress the tip of his cock ever so slowly.
It was strange - if he had been alone, no way would he have been able to restrain himself, to take things slowly and to stay so quiet. Only the fear of being caught red-handed enabled him to keep his body in check like that.
Which was strange, because if Anya caught him playing with his dick, she'd probably help him 'get a nice orgasm' quickly. Why, then, was he worried about being found out? Because this fantasy was so not about her!
He felt a little bit guilty but also rather exhilarated. Guess who's got a dirty little secret.
This was like one of those stupid juvenile things, where you had to prove your courage by shoplifting (Xander would have ended up in a police precinct if Jesse hadn't kicked the shopkeeper's chin and caused him to let go of Xander's collar), or by igniting fireworks in other people's mailboxes (Jesse's idea). You knew what you were doing was wrong, but you couldn't stop, because it made you feel so much more alive.
When Xander and Willow had met Buffy and had been drawn into the fight against evil, there had been no need for bad secrets. Keeping Buffy's calling under wraps and facing mortal danger on a regular basis had left him with little opportunity to be... bad. And enough feeling-alive-ness (and near death experiences) to last him, well, his whole life. But, still…
His right hand continued with its torturously slow strokes. Meanwhile his left crept underneath his pyjama top to caress his already hardened nipples.
What if he just got up? Spike was within reach, almost. All Xander had to do was quietly sneak out of bed, tiptoe out of the room and continue where they had left off earlier. It was still hard to believe how good Spike's hard cock had felt next to his, and Spike's finger in that intimate place...
Xander suppressed a gasp. He could feel increasing moisture underneath his fingertips, the pre-come making his caress more velvety. Oh yeah, Spike's cock, he wanted it right there!
He realized his thoughts were drifting and tried to focus on that breathtaking What-if.
...What if he got out of bed and climbed into the tub with Spike? Naked Spike, in the bathtub, all wet and slippery from all that foam. Water sloshing out on the floor, oops, who cares? Unnecessary detail, concentrate...
His left hand abandoned his nipples to travel south over his belly, bypassing a tissue, lying ready for later use, gliding past his cock to his inner thighs. So slowly and lightly, that even he couldn't hear the chafing sounds of skin sliding over skin.
...concentrate on important details. On the hardness of the Englishman's cock, how pale it is, on Spike's proud grin, and boy has he reason to, cause it's so beautiful and feels so good...
He bit his lip to keep himself from moaning Spike's name out loud. Only two nights ago, the thought of yanking off thinking about the vampire had horrified him. Now the image of Spike was welcome, even summoned on purpose.
...Spike would be pleased to see him, no doubt, yes, he'd touch him, want him. He'd grip Xander's manhood and he'd lick its head, dipping the tip of his tongue into the sensitive slit...
His breath sounded horribly loud in his own ears. Did he just gasp? He halted, listening. There was the sound of rustling sheets and suddenly a warm leg and hip touched his. Anya! Snuggling closer. He laid rigid, counted till twenty, then he slowly inched away from her and resumed his ministrations.
Xander cupped his balls, rolling them gently between his fingers, before dipping further south, as far as he could reach.
...Spike licking Xander's whole length, from tip to base, his wonderful agile incredible tongue exploring him intimately...
He spread his legs wider, imagining Spike coaxing them apart with cool hands. Can't do that in the tub a part of his mind piped in, the part that always complained about continuity errors in television series. Xander didn't care that his fantasy was beginning to get a bit fuzzy around the edges when he could almost feel the tip of Spike's shaft straining to slide into him...
His breathing was getting rugged.
...I want you to fuck me, Spike...
Thinking the words he'd never say out loud, even if they were the truth...
- "Xander Lavelle Harris, if I hear you say that bad ugly word one more time I will wash out your mouth with soap and I will ask your father to give you a proper belting!" - Get out of my head, Mom! -
...he came with a shudder and an almost inaudible sigh.
He lay quiet for several minutes, waiting for his racing heartbeat to slow to a comfortable trot. He used the tissue to wipe his hand and abdomen clean, crumpled it into a tiny ball and hid it under his pillow - making a mental note to get rid of the evidence first thing in the morning.
Then, almost guiltily, he turned around and cuddled up to Anya. He was somewhat relieved to discover that spooning her still felt good and right. Several disjointed questions jumbled around in his head, like whether this could really be judged as cheating, and what Anya would say if she knew, and how Spike felt about him, and whether that mattered. But Xander was so tired, before he knew it he was fast asleep, smiling.
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