Dancing in the Dark
The power was out, the storm was raging, and the apartment was
uncomfortably quiet. Xander decided that the only way he could get
through a night with Spike and no TV was by adding some alcohol to the
mix. He walked over to the fridge, got out two beers from the dark
interior, and silently handed one to Spike, who took it with an
unexpectedly cordial nod of the head.
Two beers later, they were talking.
Four beers later Xander got out the bottle of whiskey he’d been saving.
Half way down it, just at the point where the label was stuck to clear glass, not backed by amber, Xander told Spike what he’d had to do to pay for his car to be repaired in Oxnard.
Spike stared at him. “Going to visit every state?”
“That was the plan. See the world.”
Spike looked tolerant. “It’s big, but it’s not the world, mate. Anyway, sod that. You stripped?”
Xander nodded, a still, small voice inside him saying monotonously, ‘oh shit, oh shit, oh...’
Spike pursed his lips. “Nope. Not seeing it. Tell me more.”
“There is no more. Guy was sick, boss said he’d give me enough to finally get home and it wasn’t as if...”
“Anyone I knew was there.”
“You ever tell anyone here?”
For a moment Xander thought Spike sounded hopeful. Why? Did he think he could use it to blackmail him? “Told Buffy. Which means Willow knew the same night and I got a funny look from Giles the next time I saw him so you can forget trying to hold it over me. They know. I have no secrets from my friends.” Which was a total lie and sounded melodramatic too but he was past caring.
Spike smiled. “Wouldn’t have dreamed of it,” he said. “So; it’s a secret?”
“Didn’t exactly list it on my resume, if that’s what you mean.”
“But your friends know.”
“Just told you that.”
Spike reached for the bottle and topped up his glass and Xander’s. “So why did you tell me?”
Xander connected the dots and froze. “Because I’m drunk?”
A lazy eyebrow climbed up Spike’s forehead. “Try again.”
Why? It was a good enough answer...Xander met those eyes, dark and knowing in the candlelight and tried again. “Because...well, I know you better these days. I guess you could count as a, as a ...”
Spike laughed. “If you can’t say it, I don’t think so.”
He was lying with his back against the sofa Xander was on, his head turned upwards to look at him. As Xander watched, he twisted around and rested his arms on the sofa cushions. Xander swallowed nervously. “Well, I don’t know then,” he said, aware that he sounded pathetic.
“Don’t you? I do.”
Spike moved, too slowly to stop, like a glacier, sliding his hands along and easing up to straddle Xander. The sheer impossibility of Spike in his lap held Xander still.
“Never worked in a strip club. Can’t see me getting my kit off in front of a crowd –” I can, Xander thought. Images of Spike’s pale body emerging from black leather as he strutted arrogantly, eyes gleaming with amused contempt for the slavering audience, filled Xander’s vision. “But lap dances, I’m good at them. Ever had one?”
Xander shook his head from side to side, feeling the room spin around him. Spike’s eyes widened teasingly and he wriggled just enough to make a point.
“Tell you what; I show you what I can do and you show me –”
Spike leaned forward and took Xander’s mouth to another place, a place where your arms went around the lean, strong body in front of you and held it tightly, a place where you opened your lips obediently and got rewarded with a darting tongue and a nibbled lower lip, a place where your cock was being ridden hard and a place which would definitely be a better place if there were less clothes and more –
The power surged back on, drowning them both in a flood of icy, pale light. Spike cursed as Xander tipped him off his lap and watched him struggle to his feet.
“Fine, right, never happened,” he muttered. “Don’t bother threatening me.”
Xander glared at him, reached down and yanked him to his feet. On the way to the bedroom he turned off every light.
Didn’t matter to Spike. He could see in the dark. He could see lots of things.
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