Breathe

by
MissE



This entire discovery was a fluke. Finding out he was even interested, finding out just what drove him wild. How scraping his nails down Harris's back made him moan, made his breath hitch. All that time, the boy had worn his costume of respectability, of heterosexuality, but it had taken only one wild night, a night of pain and a need to forget that pain, of screams and fighting that took an abrupt turn into passion, as if his boy had suddenly given up, and given in to tightly held desires.

It was the ex-demoness that had done it. She had turned on him, deriding him for his need to help, denouncing him for the mere human that he was. She had declared him good for only one thing, and she could hire that if she particularly needed to. Spike wasn't sure if she had enough money to keep up with her 'needs', but if it left Xander for him, then he truly didn't care.

And now he had the boy in his bed, under his hands. All that smooth, golden skin, all that hard, well-formed muscle, all his to play with. He had the boy on his side, and was behind him, buried balls deep inside him. He ran his hands over the broad shoulders, then down his back, running his thumbs down the line of his spine, scraping his nails down the skin as he went, and, right on cue, his boy gasped, and arched back.

“Sssspike,” Xander ground out, pushing back up against him.

He pulled back, and plunged in hard. “Right here, love,” he whispered.

Xander reached back and grabbed Spike's hand when it settled momentarily on his hip. He twisted his fingers with Spike's. “Need you.”

“Got me,” Spike reassured. He settled into a hard rhythm, pounding deep into the dark-haired man. He reached around and took hold of his boy's hard cock, stroking in counterpoint to his thrusts. He buried his head in the crook of Xander's neck, and listened to the broken sound of his breathing, hitching, catching, keening in his need. He untangled his fingers, and reached under his boy to change hands, bringing his now free hand back. He grinned in expectation, then dragged his nails hard down Xander's back.

The younger man gasped, and arched , throwing his head back with a wail, and came hard. Spike clutched at his hip and groaned deeply as he lost his rhythm, thrusting deep into the clutching, spasming body, and came. Shuddering, he wrapped his arms around Xander, and clung close, listening to the sound of his boy calm his breathing, listen to it slow down, felt as he relaxed in his arms.

It started as a fluke, but now he spent every night listening to his lover breathe. It's strange what led to a vamp's content.



The End