Rating: NC-17
Characters: Spike/Xander
Warnings: m/m sex
Summary: Post 'The Gift', sometime during that summer. Spike finds solace in Xander and discovers that he really is a big girl's blouse but it isn't all that bad what with all the sex and all.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything that Mutant Enemy or Joss Whedon or any of those uber rich people came up with on the show, especially because I don't make money off any of what I write. I weep for the injustice of it all. *delicate crystalline tear* But, I do enjoy playing with Spike and his various shagging partners. However, anything I do happen to come up with on my own is mine and I really don't like to share because I'm a possessive bitch.
Betaed: Alas, I didn't have it betaed. If you find anything let me know. Hopefully, I caught everything. *crosses stuff*

On the Same Page


It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Whatever this was.

Spike wasn't sure anymore.

Reality had skewed in the last few months until it was nothing like what he'd known before.

Spike shuddered, clenched his jaw and turned his head sharply to the side as he thrust deep and seated himself firmly.

Xander clung to his shoulders, fingernails digging into his flesh with pin-pricks of precision. Spike could smell his blood raised in the little half-moon welts. He could smell Xander's sweat, his lust. He could smell his own.

Spike was surrounded by slick, clenching heat.

He couldn't imagine anything better than this.

And that was the strange part of it.

He would never have imagined wanting this at all.

Fate had a reputation for being a right bitch, she did.

Xander's sweat was salty in the air -- and on Spike's tongue when he leaned down to taste it -- like his pre-cum. Panting filled the room. Xander's heart was a drumbeat in Spike's sensitive ears.

Spike didn't look at him even when Xander clawed at his shoulders and neck, opening his thighs wide so he could pull Spike in closer and deeper with his heels.

The little noises Xander made with each thrust made Spike's body quiver, his balls draw up.

Something inside him hurt with each yearning, soft, almost plaintive sound.

He didn't respond. Just kept fucking.

He didn't look at Xander because he couldn't.

This shouldn't have been happening at all.

But Spike didn't want to stop.

It took the downfall of a Slayer to bring them to this point.

He and Xander had broken separately and then connected when they'd started pulling themselves back together.

Damn Buffy again for this torment.

It wasn't enough he'd fallen for the bitch, now he was fucking one of her minions in her stead.

Because she was dead, of course. As was Anya.

That's why Xander was here.

Xander wouldn't have put forth effort to piss on Spike if he'd been on fire before That Day.

Vampires weren't meant to fall for Slayers, they were mortal enemies. That was the unwritten law. Everyone knew about it.

Spike had never been one to follow the rules. In fact, he'd had a long history of doing the exact opposite just because he could.

Sometimes, open-minded creativity was a real bitch.

Angel had been the exception to the vampire code involving Slayers. But Angel was a dick and had deserved the pain of falling for Buffy only to lose her after he'd gone and got a soul shoved up his ass; sent straight to hell to be tormented for several hundred years kind of put it into perspective, Spike imagined.

Spike had no idea what he'd done to deserve his unwanted curse of feeling.

But all of that was beside the point at this juncture.

Xander was the point.

Xander had become...important to Spike over the last few weeks.

Spike wasn't really very happy about that but he couldn't change it.

Couldn't force himself.

Xander was... Xander. He smelled good, felt good, tasted good. The way he moved, well, wasn't poetry in motion by any means. In fact, Xander was a bit of a lummox on two legs, tripping over nothing with his gigantic sneakered feet.

Somehow, it was appealing.

Or Spike wouldn't be here buried balls deep, otherwise.

Well, maybe he would, he just would've hated himself and Xander more.

Not that he didn't hate himself enough, already.

Xander wanted Spike. Apparently.

Spike had no idea why. He wasn't questioning it. He had enough fall apart in his long life. Questioning things just made things worse, made the good go away faster.

Spike was probably being used but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Since whatever this was began, Spike found himself leaving whatever he'd felt for Buffy behind. Maybe it had been a simple case of lust for the enemy, watching her fight had gotten his motor revving, because whatever it was had dulled over the short time she'd been gone.

Feelings of a whole other nature had replaced her in his heart.

Fucking Xander. Literally and figuratively. Besides the actual screwing, he discovered a surprising fondness for Xander outside the bedroom.

Spike couldn't quite believe the growing emotions swirling inside him when he was around Xander, inside Xander, but evidence proved his uncomfortable realizations. And here it was in technicolour porn complete with the salty tang of sweat.

Four months were gone since the Tower. Four months since Buffy and Anya died and Xander and Spike were practically glued to each other's sides even when not having sex.

It hadn't started out that way. The sex hadn't happened until later.

Sniping at each other, physical blows shared that hurt Spike doubly because of the bloody chip, insults tossed back and forth.

Foreplay, in other words.

Then, Spike discovered he liked verbally hashing it out with Xander. Xander seemed to feel the same, by the gleam of fondness in his eyes as each insult rolled off both their backs like water.

He should've seen it coming, really. He'd had a similar occurrence in the past.

Another brunet with soulful eyes had had a parallel affect on him.

That git would remain nameless.

One night they'd been trading creative insults back and forth as always, a bit of innuendo they'd been dancing around, when there'd been demons coming out of the woodwork.

Demons to beat the crap out of had been a nice distraction but Spike hadn't forgotten the heat that simmered between them, arousal filling the air, the look on Xander's face as realization dawned.

Blood and gore and demon bits flew everywhere, along with Spike into a nearby tree. Xander yelled and hit the ground after one of the remaining demons back-handed him.

Spike saw red and leapt upward snarling, whaled on the demon until it was a puddle of...whatever it was made of and suddenly it was over.

When it was done, they were panting and slumped, sweating and bleeding respectively.

Their eyes met and something sparked.

Spike might have made some sort of smart-assed comment about something or other, which had started an argument that evolved until they were literally spitting mad and getting close and personal with each hurled barb.

Then, Spike realised something in the midst of all the yelling.

Xander was pretty when he was angry.

His cheeks flushed, his skin glistened with sweat, his eyes sparkling with passion, his chest rose and fell rapidly with anger.

The way he looked kind of reminded Spike of sex.

He smelled so fucking good, all riled up.

But Spike would never tell Xander any of that.

Except that he kind of did. When he wasn't paying attention as he should have been.

Xander gawped, Spike froze, and Spike could never remember exactly what led up to this point, but a split second later they were all over each other, sucking face.

There was rubbing and moaning, groping and whimpering, kissing and arousal.

Xander tasted surprisingly of mint chocolate instead of the regular milky kind.

Spike backed Xander into a handy nearby tree trunk, thrust a leg between Xander's and humped him.

Xander didn't really seem to mind. He grabbed Spike's ass and squeezed him closer, arching into him, rubbing sensitive nipples into Spike's chest.

They kissed and rubbed frantically until a few moments later they were both much in need of a change of pants.

And everything changed.

Needless to say avoidance occurred on both parts for several days after that. Three, in fact.

It only lasted until they paired up on patrol again and then they met eyes and couldn't seem to keep their hands and other bits off each other.

They ended up in Xander's bed and stayed there all night and day -- save for bathroom breaks and snacking -- until Xander had to go to work.

Spike was still in bed when Xander got home, got quite the wake-up call, in fact, when Xander barely prepped him and sunk into his ass like he was meant to be there, and then it happened all over again in varying positions and switching of roles.

Said a lot that Spike's ass was sore for hours after. Couldn't imagine Xander wasn't feeling the same but he looked smug and sated and...happy.

Spike found he had similar feelings.

Spike never really seemed to leave much after that unless it was to patrol or get blood or something -- he moved his meager belongings into the spare drawers, closet, bedroom. Didn't really see the point.

Xander didn't seem to mind, either.

Proximity and convenience equaled lots of sex.

A place to keep his blood cold that didn't burn out or get the juice cut off wasn't half bad, either.

So, that was how it began.

But the story wasn't over, yet. They still couldn't keep their hands off each other and Spike couldn't get enough of Xander's ass or Xander's dick inside his own.

Seemed to work, really. Spike had no complaints. Xander seemed positively blissful and relaxed from all the orgasms -- strangely, in a way that he'd never appeared with Anya, but Spike didn't want to go all introspective on it because he'd jinx it.

Win, win.

They never actually talked about the first night. Didn't seem to need to.

They had an understanding.


Spike crushed his fingers into the bedding as he loomed over Xander. His hips rocked, muscles clenched, chin tucked into his own collar bone as he squeezed his eyes shut.

He felt.

Clenching and squeezing, heat and sweat, breathing and rumbled moans.

Xander's breathing hitched as Spike rolled his pelvis.

Yeah, that was the spot.

Spike grinned into his own skin and did it again, sneaking a glance from the corner of his eye to see Xander's face contort with pleasure.

Xander cursed breathlessly and grabbed Spike's head with frantic fingers pulling him into a wet, open-mouthed kiss.

Spike plundered Xander's mouth and Xander gave as good as he got.

Spike's hips kicked up speed a notch or three.

The kiss ended and Spike lifted his head. Before he could turn away again their eyes locked.

They stared at each other until Spike got uncomfortable.

He stopped moving, back tensing.

Xander's eyes were black and searching.

Spike blinked and couldn't look away.

Time stopped.

Spike never knew that could really happen.

Unless it was a spell, anyway.

"You never look at me... You know... When... During," Xander stuttered, face flushed, panting softly, looking embarrassed but rushing onward, "If you're fucking me to escape...stuff, I don't think I can do this anymore," he finished.

Sweat beaded his upper lip and temples, glistened in the center of his heaving chest. The small curling hairs at the juncture of his collar bone were plastered to his skin, much the same as the hair on his head.

Spike licked his lips and tasted Xander. "What?" he asked hoarsely, frowning. His arms started to shake with the strain of holding himself in place. His dick twitched inside. "What?" he repeated, a bit incredulous.

This was serious talk for the current position.


Spike sighed. "What do you want from me? Why now? Especially at a time like this," he said, rotating his pelvis until Xander's eyes crossed and then shut.

Xander smacked his bicep. "I just... Damn it. I want you here with me, okay? I don't want to sound like a total girl here, and given the circumstances I realise it probably leaves me open to mucho mockery later..." Spike inhaled sharply as Xander's inner muscles squeezed rhythmically around his swollen prick. Xander grinned briefly. "...They've been gone four months, Spike. Buffy and Anya..." He swallowed, looking pained. "I know this is a bad time to pick up the subject but... I just need to get this out while I can, okay? They're gone and we're here and... I don't want a pity fuck or...be a receptacle for your jizz. I don't know what this is for you but... I don't screw someone I don't care about. And...we have to move on, Spike. Considering how we've been the last few weeks... We don't just fuck, anymore, Spike, but you won't even look me in the eye when we do that. It's kind of like you're trying to pretend I'm... Well... It's not a good feeling. I don't like feeling like I'm just...a body for you to fuck."

Spike's jaw clenched and he closed his eyes.

Leave it to the git to lay all this on him now and without warning.

He hadn't even known Xander felt that way. He was too involved in how he felt.

"I'm not using you. I don't do that, either." He cleared his throat and shifted, biceps bunching and releasing, quivering. "Uh, at first it was about comfort, I'll admit, but I've never just used someone close to me for sex, especially not a friend, as few and far between as those have been in my life... Hey, can we not have this conversation now in favour of finishing what we started? I swear, we can get into it later, if you like, but this is not a bloody good time, yeah?"

Xander looked down at his own erection, and where they were joined, and smiled ruefully. "I pick my moments, don't I?"

"You really do," Spike murmured, eyes following the path Xander's had taken. Xander's prick was swollen and leaking, balls crushed sweetly between their bodies -- Spike could feel them throbbing much like his own.

"I see your point, Spike. You swear we'll talk?"

"You're being a complete bint but that's apropos of the moment, eh?" Spike flexed his hips with a wolfish grin, teasing, then sobered. "Yeah, we'll have our little chat if it'll make you happy. Not really anything left to sort out, though, in my mind. I like you, I assume you like me, we mesh well together, quite literally, might I add, and we're not using each other for hot sex, which we have lots of. What more is there to talk about, eh?"

Xander shuddered and groaned. "I think you maybe right. Sorry."

Spike rolled his eyes fondly and pushed Xander's sweaty hair from his face. He kissed Xander's mouth, then his cheeks and nose. "Git."

Xander glared up at him and then milked Spike's cock with a few teasing clenches.

Spike cursed and narrowed his gaze. "I'll show you how 'with' you I am, you plonker. Better buckle down. Gonna be a bumpy ride."

Xander smiled.

Spike met it with a bit of a sort of soppy one of his own, then slammed into Xander a few times until the softness wiped away from the other man's face. Spike was not, in fact, soppy, and hopefully Xander would forget the not-soppiness with the increased frenzy of sex.


Afterward, when Spike thought Xander was falling asleep draped over the top of him, one leg hiked over his thigh, and he was enjoying the blanket of human heat emanating into his much cooler body while he carded his fingers through slightly-too long hair at the nape of Xander's neck, Xander mumbled sluggishly rubbing his face against Spike's pectoral, "You like me, huh, Spike? Cuddly vampire teddy bear."

There was some smugness in there midst the tiredness but Xander didn't say anything else, just drifted off to sleep.

Spike sighed and stared up at the ceiling, eyes rolling slightly before shutting entirely.

He might've held Xander a little more closely and just a bit tighter after that but he definitely was not cuddling.

Good to know they were on the same page, though.

Here Endeth the Story

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