May by Lady Cat

You all do remember that it's the merry month of masturbation, right?

My contribution, written very quickly while I wait for it to be four o'clock so I can get out of here and officially drop my class. Why doesn't pitt have online registration? This boggles my mind.

May

by
Lady Cat

Limbs. Limbs were everywhere. Not just arms, but long legs, full of muscles and pale, pale skin. He was used to arms, really. They did useful things like touch and trace, fingers busy on their partner’s skin. Sometimes they even pinched. Often they got tangled, which could lead to laughter or breathless kisses, but they had a place and a pattern to follow.

Legs? Legs were things that were usually tucked up against someone’s waist, thighs or calves tight on someone else’s hips. Or they were stretched out over whatever surface it was, flat or bent depending upon who needed leverage to find that perfect angle. They shouldn’t be ... splayed. Flapping about in the air, knees pushed up to touch shoulders and ears, almost.

Spike’s were.

Xander gulped, wondering if he’d entered the right crappy basement apartment. “Er,” he said.

A shy smile—shy!—tipped up at him, disconcertingly innocent given Spike was stark naked, legs lifted and flailing in the air while his hands... his hands ...

“That’s right,” a soft, breathy purr filled the room, blocking out the gurgle and creak of pipes, even the thundering of Xander’s heart. “C’mere. Come closer.”

“Urk.”

“Closer, pet, c’mon.” Spike’s body stilled, making Xander jerk as his mind stopped gawping and tried to understand the words. “One foot, then the other. Stand by the bed.”

“What? No! I’m not—you need to put some clothes on! And not do that when I’m here! It’s wrong.” So why was he obediently walking forward? “And disgusting. And you’ll have hairy palms!”

Spike’s chuckle was melted toffee, stopping up Xander’s mouth and pulling him closer no matter what his mind screamed. Hands—thick fingers, tipped with chipped and shiny black—cupped a startlingly smooth sac. “Yeah, that’s right. Watch, pet. Just like you’ve dreamed, innit? Me all smooth, pink and soft to the touch. Gonna stroke it now. Watch me, pet. Watch as I curl my fingers around it, not tight, not yet, and start stroking.”

Xander’s mouth was so dry his tongue wanted to crack and crumble into dust. He could feel the air pass over his lips and tongue with every gasp, eyes glued to the sight before him. Spike’s fingers, knuckles so prominent, the vein across the back of his hand so very blue, wrapped around Spike’s cock and began to stroke. Slowly. Achingly slowly, the rhythm Xander himself preferred when he started off, torturing himself by waiting that much longer. He heard Spike’s groan, felt it tremble in the air. If he looked up and saw Spike’s expression Xander knew he was going to do something horribly embarrassing.

More embarrassing than watching Spike stroke himself off. More embarrassing than watching while his own pants grew tight. Uncomfortably tight.

“Not all you want, though, is it?” Spike’s eyes were bright, watching his face with an intensity Xander didn’t want to name. “Want something else, don’t you? This is what you wanna do to me, feel me hard and needy in your hand, I know it is. Want me to be helpless, so turned on I’ll do anything for you to move your hand that one ... fraction ... of ... an ... inch.”

Xander squeaked.

Fingers waved, drawing Xander’s attention away from Spike’s right hand to his empty left. That left hand waved again, Xander blinking as light reflected off of the shiny substance they were coated in, before slithering down past skin that looked almost raw to disappear between—between—

The squeak turned into a harsh groan.

“This is what you want,” Spike said, thoroughly self-satisfied. “Wanna be here, don’t you, pet. Wanna work your fingers in one at a time, getting me all stretched out and ready.” Two fingers sank inside Spike’s body easily, pushing past the knuckle before slipping back out.

Xander was mesmerized, lost and gibbering at the sight of Spike stroking his own cock while he fingered his own body loose and ready. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. Spike was the evil, though chipped, bastard who lived to make Xander’s life a living hell, not some kind of twisted sex demon that knew Xander’s darkest fantasies and was interested in providing them with a soft smile and an open body.

Spike wasn’t supposed to masterbate right in front of him. It destroyed all laws of nature and it was making Xander’s brain boil inside his own skull.

There was gasping now. From Xander, sure, as his struggling body worked to pull in enough air to prevent passing out. From Spike, though, too, who arched his back as much as his contorted position allowed, biting his lower lip, eyes half closed as he worked both hands harder and faster. “Wanna be here,” he encouraged, his voice gone high with need and breathy with encouragement. “Wanna fuck me, pet, know you do. Won’t say no, Xander. Come on. Gimme something better than my fingers, my own palm. Come on, Xander. Wank me. Fuck me. Please, pet, need something more than this.”

Spike’s body was jerking now, lust making Spike repeat mumbled, broken entreaties as he fucked palm and fingers both. Fingers. Three fingers, no four, working himself so open that Xander could see the way Spike’s body didn’t want to let those fingers go. Slippery and flushed, Spike’s skin was pink and so soft Xander’s fingers itched to touch it, to take over—

Spike’s cry was unexpected, yanking Xander’s eyes up to catch the final spurt of translucent come painting Spike’s belly.

Xander’s body went impossibly tight. “Um,” he said. “I—”

“You what, Xander? You wanna wake up?”

Wake up? No. No way was he asleep, that wasn’t fair!

“Wake up, pet, come on.” Spike’s voice was different now, softer and warmer, brushed up close to his ear. “Wake up, Xander. C’mon, pet, wake up.”

He wanted to cry. He wanted to do what Spike had said with the touching and the rubbing and the fingers. He wanted Spike, and that was only encouraging the tears because he wasn’t supposed to want Spike. He was supposed to—supposed to—

Xander’s eyes opened.

Spike’s body, as naked and as smooth as the one in his dream, filled his vision. Naked Spike. Not something he was supposed to like, according to his still wigged out friends, but one he certainly appreciated. Awareness returned, taking away that final wrenching moment of realizing it wasn't real. Because.... grinning, Xander flicked a look up to Spike’s eyes before leaning forward and running his lips over Spike’s collar bone.

“Spike, do you remember how you finally got me into bed?” he asked innocently—and chuckled when Spike’s eyes instantly darkened. “Yeah. You up for a repeat?”

This time, though, Xander held Spike’s legs for him.

The End

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