Summary: Spike is bored in Xander's basement room and decides to make some fun for himself.
Disclaimer: Joss owns all. I but play in the field of his imagination.
When Unlife Gives you Lemons
It was worse then hell; it had to be. Not only did Spike have to spend hour after hour in the smelly, dirty...and was that underwear draped over the window?...basement of one Xander Harris, but he had to do it with a bloody smile on his face and a song in his heart. A bad song. One of those soddin' mopey songs the whelp played when he was in a sour mood. Otherwise, it was back to the chair and ropes for him. Not a bad thing, really, if it weren’t him in the chair and ropes. Or, if there was some promise of something better than just being hog tied for the hell of it. After having just been recently freed from them, Spike wasn't keen on going back. No way, no how. Not even if his unlife depended on it and it would avert the next seven apocalypses would he go back in that chair.
So he settled for mentally abusing the kid. Surely he couldn't be blamed for his thoughts. But he swore if he had to listen to the whelp complain one more time about that demon bint only wanting him for orgasms, he wouldn't be held responsible for what he did next.
"Spike, could you cut back on the smoking? Human lungs here, ya know. I've seen those documentaries and I'd prefer to keep mine as pink and pretty as I can," Xander said from his side of the folded-up sofa-bed.
String 'em up like bloody decorations, Spike thought angrily as he put out the cigarette. He smiled slightly at the image of the Whelp innards being used as Christmas ornaments.
Lately, Spike had noticed that Xander's eyes seemed to linger on him for moments at a time. At first, it had been disturbing. But, after a while, Spike saw it as an advantage. Not only was Xander a nummy treat in his own right, but Spike’s hand only went so far. Now, whenever he was in the basement, he took off his coat and lounged in just the black shirt, or just the red over shirt unbuttoned, or no shirt...it didn't matter to Spike. The subsequent jerky eye movements and squirming in his seat by Xander made it all worthwhile.
So Spike sat there, in just his black t-shirt and stretched out, crossing his legs at the ankle and placing both arms behind his head. After years of perfecting such movements and poses, Spike knew exactly what he looked like...and he wasn't disappointed at the result of his display. He heard Xander inhale sharply and watched as the boy turned quickly back to the tele where he had some kung-fu movie going.
No matter how much Xander tried to hide the glances or shifty movements, furtively trying to get into a more comfortable position, he could not hide the pheromones that radiated from him. They were a heady mixture of uncertainty, arousal, and a dash of shame, all thrown together to make Spike inhale and breathe normally, just to revel in it.
"Come on, you call that fightin'? I could bloody kick all their arses an' still have time for a stroll," Spike said, waving a hand at the screen.
"I told you earlier to shut up about the movie," Xander said, his eyes watching the various kicks and punches. His body jerked in time with the lead character and Spike almost lost it and burst out laughing; but he managed to keep it down to a small shake of his shoulders.
"Yeah, well, can only follow one order at a time," Spike said, leaning back again.
"And?” Xander asked. Spike was not making sense, not that he ever did, really. Xander had to first, sort through the various bits of British slang that peppered Spike's speech, then desperately match it to something that sounded vaguely like English; and most of the time, that went so awry that Xander would just give up. Now, however, Xander was fairly certain Spike was speaking English and still he couldn't make heads or tails of it.
"Well, you told me 'fore to put out the fag. An' I did. So all other orders 'fore that mean nothin' to me. They’re done."
Slowly, Xander turned to Spike, confusion clouding his face and said, "You know that made absolutely no sense. What do you mean?"
"I can only follow one order at a time. You tell me to shut up, fine I'll shut up, but I'll bloody well be smokin' or doin' whatever else it is I want to do. You don't want me to smoke, then I'll talk. Not hard, whelp."
Awkwardly, Xander's mind rushed to find a flaw in the vampire's reasoning. Surely, there had to be one. He looked over at Spike, who was once again stretched out with a self-satisfied smirk on his face. His head was slightly tilted to one side, the corner of the other side drooping just a bit and ... no, he was thinking about Spike's logic, not his lips. Xander could do this.
"Fine," he said. "Then shut up and don't smoke." Crossing his arms, Xander nodded, feeling himself flush with pride. The smile left from Spike's face.
"Can't do that, Whelp. Only one order. No mixin' it up like that."
"It is one order."
"No, it's bloody two in one sentence."
"So, that's cheatin' is what."
"You White Hats aren't supposed to cheat."
"It's like your bloody motto, or anthem, or flag pole song or some such nonsense. How the bloody hell am I supposed to know?"
"Well, you're the one that brought it up."
Spike grumbled and got off the couch. This conversation had gone the exact opposite of the way he wanted it to. He began pacing and lit up another cigarette. Xander coughed extravagantly, but Spike didn't stop. He just glared at the boy.
He needed another tactic. Something foolproof. Something that would get him the whelp, have the boy beggin' at his boots. Because, Spike had to face the facts, the boy wasn't that bad to look at. Xander was young with soft lips, though Spike wished for once that the boy would shut his trap long enough for Spike to fully appreciate those lips. Moreover, he was obviously attracted to Spike...if the long showers and constant shifting were any indication...not to mention the amount of pheromones the boy put out whenever he was near Spike. It was enough to drown a vampire in scent.
Finally, with a plan firmly in place, Spike put out his cigarette, walked back to the couch, sat down, removed his shirt, took off his boots and socks, and relaxed. It wasn’t long before Xander was paying more attention to Spike than he was to the bloody kung-fu movie.
“Gonna miss the endin’, pet,” Spike said. He placed a single, slender, pale finger on Xander’s jaw and turned it back to the tele. He watched as Xander swallowed past a lump in his throat. Closing his eyes, Spike tilted towards the boy and inhaled deeply, making a show of it.
Despite being pointed back to the tele, Xander’s eyes roamed slowly back towards Spike. They traveled along the floor, slowly taking in the sight of a shoeless and shirtless vampire, before meeting Spike’s own eyes.
Moving before Xander could stop him, Spike swooped in and pulled the boy to his mouth, slowly teasing those soft, pink, warm lips with his own. His tongue trailed along the crease, asking for entrance, and when Xander opened his mouth to speak…Spike really didn’t care what Xander was doing so long as he had access…he slipped his tongue inside the warm cavern.
There were moans, soft and unsure, in the basement, neither one knowing just whom they'd come from. Spike’s senses were overloaded with soft, wet, and warm…processing nothing else until heat seemed to spread through him. Spike opened his eyes to see Xander had pressed himself against him sometime during the kiss that wouldn’t end. Breaking it off, Spike panted with unneeded breath, watching as Xander’s eyes slowly opened. They were dilated, half-lidded, as he looked down to Spike’s lips.
“Wh-what was that?” Xander asked, licking his lips again. Spike swore that if the boy did that again, he’d have no choice but to snog him rotten.
“Told me to shut up an’ not smoke, right?” Spike asked, his voice low and husky. He'd expected Xander to protest, push him away or something. But, the eagerness with which Xander had kissed him was making things low in Spike's body constrict and throb almost painfully.
“I said that?” Xander asked. He was taking long deep breaths, trying to calm the frantic beating of his heart. His lips tingled and he fought the urge to dive back for more. “Oh, I did say that, but…” He trailed off, mentally going over everything he’d said…and he was fairly certain that it had not included kissing, or touching, of any kind.
“Like me to be quiet then? Like a good little prisoner? Not dirty up your perfect little White Hat lungs?”
“Well, yeah, that was the general idea, but-“
“Didn’t expect me to do that on my own, did you, Pet?”
“Well, yeah. I mean no, but-“
“An’ if I’m gonna be a prisoner in this hellhole you call a home-“
“An’ if I’m gonna be quiet like a good little Big Bad prisoner-“
“You go out every night and I-“
“Then,” Spike said, a little louder, “I’m gonna do it the way I want to.”
Spike kisses followed that twisted vampire-like, chipped-Spike, oddly right, logic, and turned Xander’s brain quickly to mush. However, Xander was sure that somewhere in there had to be a flaw, or a kink - no not a kink, not thinking about kinks - or something that made the logic not as logical as Spike would have him think.
“You’re not a prisoner,” Xander said finally. It was a small point, a petty point he knew, but it was a flaw – Ha! – nonetheless.
Sitting back to get a better look at the boy, Spike was confused. He’d expected many things. Mainly being threatened with large, pointy, wooden objects. Though, looking down to Xander’s lap, Spike wasn’t sure if that was as bad a thing as he thought. Either way, he’d expected protests and yelling at the very least, maybe even a bit of throwing stuff about. But nothing…just that sentence spoken softly.
“As good as one,” Spike said. He liked his plan much better. It included nakedness and shagging…two things he could never get enough of…and here was the whelp trying to make an already awkward topic worse.
“You’re not, you know. Well, Buffy says you are. But, I don’t tell her you leave and stuff at night,” Xander said. Sometimes, like now, he just wished his mouth would close, or glue together so he couldn’t sound like a complete and utter idiot. Really, he sounded like he cared. And he didn’t. Really, he didn’t. Well, maybe just a little. But who wouldn’t after spending as much time as he had with the bleached wonder?
“Lyin’ to your friends, Pet?” Spike asked, tsking. “Shouldn’t do that. Might think you’ve gone evil an’ I’ve corrupted you. Slayer’d be here in a bloody second to stake my arse.”
“Corrupted by you?” Xander asked, laughing. “That’d be the day. You couldn’t corrupt a kitten!”
“That so, Pet?”
“Yeah, that’s so.”
“I can’t have been the only one in that lip-lock,” Spike said. He moved closer, letting his unneeded breath whisper across Xander’s ear and smiled as the boy shivered from the sensation. “I wasn’t the one whimperin’ and kissin’ back either.”
“You tell anyone and I’ll deny it,” Xander said, trying to keep his voice even. Nevertheless, the pitch jumped an octave when Spike’s lips locked around his earlobe and sucked. “They’ll never believe you, Spike,” he said, trying to keep his hands from reaching out and grabbing Spike’s head to keep it right where it was. The wicked lips in question were making their way down Xander’s neck, sucking skin between them occasionally. He shivered, knowing there was a vampire at his neck, who could – if he wasn’t chipped, that was – theoretically bite him and drain him dry. And yet, Xander’s pants continued to become tighter and tighter.
“You couldn’t deny it, pet,” Spike purred, pulling back. “The witch’d know you were lying.”
Cool hands found their way under Xander’s shirt, slowly making their way up his torso, stopping to play with nipples already hard with need.
“She’d corner you, an’ you’d be trapped, helpless,” Spike said, continuing his exploration. Xander’s breath was coming in heavy pants again. The shirt lifted as Spike’s hands moved higher, now roaming over pectoral muscles that had – until then – been hidden behind baggy fabric.
“Then she’d run to the Slayer, yappin’ on about your business, claimin’ it’s for your own good. Sayin’ you don’t know what you’re getting’ into, with a vampire like me. Thinkin’ you’re under some spell or somethin’ like that.”
A loud rip sounded as Spike tore off Xander's shirt. He took a moment to bend down and take one of those dusky nipples between his lips, sucking softly. This time, Xander’s hand did move, did grasp Spike’s head and hold it there. Spike’s lips moved over Xander’s flesh, fanning the flames of his desire with every cool touch.
“Slayer’d probably come over, brandishin’ the stake she’s made just for me. Stake me good, she will…all the while claimin’ it’s for your own good.”
Xander shook his head. His friends wouldn’t do that…well, Buffy would. She’d been itching to stake Spike ever since they first met, and any excuse was a good excuse to her; but Xander didn’t want Spike to be a pile of dust. Not when he could make him feel...this.
“Won’t let that happen,” Xander said, gasping as Spike bit his nipple with blunt teeth.
“An’ how you plannin’ on stoppin’ ‘em, pet? Gonna stand guard day an’ night?”
“I don’t know. But, you’re all…well, not reformed, but chipped. That’s got to count for something. And you help us,” he said, gasping as the other nipple was rolled between fingertips.
“Didn’t know you cared, luv,” Spike said.
“Don’t,” Xander said, pulling Spike’s head back up and crushing his lips against Spike’s.
This time the kiss was deeper, hungrier, and needier. Xander’s hands pulled and grabbed at Spike. Silently he thanked the vampire for taking off the shirt beforehand. They broke the kiss long enough to gasp for air before crushing back against each other.
Xander had said he didn’t care, but he was kissing Spike as if his life depended on it. Hungry hands and desperate gropes found Spike, crushed him, and burned him from the outside in. Pushing the boy down, Spike followed him, laying atop Xander and pressing hard chest to hard chest, and groin to hip.
There were things in Xander’s life that had happened when he hadn’t been looking. Like, for example, finding out there were not only things that went bump in the night, but Hellmouths and Slayers and vampires. Or the fact that Willow could do magick. Xander certainly hadn’t seen that one coming. But this, with a vampire not only living in the basement with him, but necking with him on his very own couch? That one took the cake, he was sure.
But, here he was, lip-locked with the evil undead…and liking it. That hadn’t been in the brochure he got with the luxurious accommodations and the duckt-taped couch.
“Spike,” Xander said, gasping. His dick was painfully hard, rubbing against Spike’s hip. He thrust against the firmness, hissing at the friction it caused.
"What is it, pet," Spike said, practically purring the words into Xander's ear. He moved the boy’s legs with his knees as he slid between those thighs and pressed dick to dick and chest to chest.
Both moaned at the weight and the sensation. Xander couldn't think, or didn't want to think, because if he did, he would think about just how wrong it was to want Spike like this, to have thoughts of 'more, more' instead of 'no, stop'. But he didn't think, just felt, and groped blindly at skin. His hands roamed down the firm, muscled back until tight jeans stopped them. Xander grabbed the jeans covered ass and pulled Spike down as he thrust up and was rewarded with an almost painful, but pleasant, sensation.
"More," Xander panted. There was something more he could feel, he knew, but he didn't know what, or how. Spike would know though. Spike had to know. Spike knew what those bruising kisses and rough tweaks of his nipples were doing to him. He knew just what Xander craved as Spike's hands moved down his body, holding tightly to his hips as they thrust against each other.
Lips traveled across heated skin, licking and nipping with blunt teeth. Xander moved his head to the side, allowing Spike better access. The fact that it was a vampire he was letting that close to his neck escaped him as he moaned and bucked when Spike bit down hard on his neck, sucking the flesh into his mouth.
Hands - Xander wasn't sure if they were his or Spike's - worked at his jeans, popping the button and pulling the zipper apart. The relief was only short-lived as his boxers were pulled down and his dick was taken into a cool hand. Spike pulled and stroked softly.
"Fuck," Xander moaned, arching into the hand. The weight was lifted off him and he opened his eyes in time to see Spike making his way down his body, stopping for open-mouthed kisses along his stomach, nibbling for a second at his hips.
Xander was going to say something like stop, or no, but the words never made it to his lips because at that moment, Spike took his breath away by licking a long, cool, wet line up his dick, swirling his tongue at the head.
Watching Xander's reaction, Spike was pleased to find the boy's head thrown back, his hands in fists at his sides, and his mouth open in a silent moan. Slowly, he wrapped his lips around Xander's dick and sucked.
"Spi-ike," Xander moaned, arching off the couch. Never had he thought...nothing had ever felt like that. Spike's cool mouth was an extra sensation that had him whimpering and begging for more.
Working hand and lips, Spike sucked, swirling his tongue around the head. His other hand played with Xander's sac, rolling it in his fingers and squeezing lightly.
"Too much...Spike...please," Xander begged mindlessly. He was close, so close. Looking down, Xander could see Spike pulling on himself as he took Xander's dick into his mouth. It was too much and his body arched up with a cry from him as he shot into Spike's mouth. Intense didn't begin to cover it. He could feel Spike's now warm, soft tongue lapping almost catlike at his softening dick.
Moving up Xander's body, Spike trailed a finger along Xander's lip, slick with his own release. Tentively, Xander's tongue darted out, tasting the cool liquid. It was slightly sweet, but bitter at the same time. Different. But, before he could say anything, Spike's tongue was replacing his finger, demanding and hungry.
Stopping, Spike pushed up on his elbows and said,"Be right back."
Xander watched Spike get up and walk towards the sink, his pants still unzipped, his dick hanging semi-hard. He didn't know what to think. He'd just gotten a blowjob from a vampire, and not just any vampire, but Spike, and he’d liked it. There was a special hell for him, he was sure.
Lethargy and exhaustion had Xander closing his eyes, and the last thing he felt before falling asleep was a warm cloth wiping him off. He'd have to talk to Spike...later. Right now, sleep called.
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