Appropriate Ratings: NC17
Warnings: Boys playing with boys, shame, not much.
Disclaimers: Not my characters. I make no money off this, I'm just playing. I promise to give them a bath and thorough cleaning when I’m done! Joss Whedon is my lord and Master. All hail Joss Whedon.
Short Summary: Xander finds someone hurting and makes them feel better.
Word Count: 1604 (As per MS Word Count)
Beta: tamakin and laazikaat
Written in thanks for my new beta laazikaat. Thanks for everything sweety! I hope you like!
A.N.2 Uhh... no such thing as Anya.
Comments keep my muse well fed.
It was still wrong. He felt a cool hand slide under his shirt while lips teased and nibbled at his throat. But he wasn’t afraid of that, oh no. That wasn’t even what was really wrong,. Oh this was wrong on many levels, and that was one of the levels, but the final level? The one that made it the most wrong of Wrongdonium’s Wrongness Museum? It was going to tear out Buffy’s heart. Or make her tear out his. Or possibly just stake the one that’s between them, because he really wouldn’t put it past her.
Lips locked on his while Xander fumbled in the dark with a stubborn belt buckle. It would help if he had some light, but that would be bad, so they were in the dark. It also might help if he could breathe normally and get enough oxygen, but he wouldn’t stop this kiss for all the belt buckles in the world! Who needed body heat to make you feel hot? Not Xander Harris! Especially not when he was with Spike and Spike was kissing him like that. Devouring me
He knew Buffy was fucking Spike behind tombstones and in darkened alleys; he’d seen them at it after all. He’d seen Buffy ride Spike so hard he swore when she finally slammed down with her release. Spike had let out a hoarse, pained grunt, his words gagged behind the panties Buffy had stuffed in his mouth. He saw her get up and straighten her skirt before turning around and spitting on the still prone Spike, telling him how worthless he was, how he could never be good enough for her.
He’d smiled, put his hands behind his head and smirked as he said, “Good enough to scratch your itch, good enough you keep comin’ back.” She’d stormed off then, after delivering a swift and painful kick right into Spike’s side.
As soon as she was out of sight, Spike’s control had dissolved, leaving him a sobbing ruin. Big fat tears trailed down his cheeks as he got up and straightened his clothes. He’d rubbed furiously at his eyes to scrub away his tears before storming blindly towards the alley mouth, right into Xander. He’d caught Spike, saved him from an ungainly sprawl and without thought cradled him.
He could see the hurt, the pain, the broken gaze and tear dashed eyes. Spike couldn’t hide anything of himself anymore, the Big Bad was broken in pices all around him. Xander looked deep into those shattered eyes and saw himself looking back without lies or artifice of any kind. He saw himself and knew what Spike needed, and for once he knew Spike would accept it from him, the Zeppo, the loser. He was kissing Spike before he realized he’d moved.
He kissed Spike, right there in that alley, and pulled him closer at the answering moan. That’s how it had started, and that’s how it had kept going. Every time the blond needed comfort, every time Buffy tore him to shreds and made him feel worthless he came to Xander for spiritual healing at an altar of carnal bliss.
He kissed Spike every time, looked him in the eyes whenever he was capable of keeping them open, always let Spike know he was wanted and desired, that Xander never spent the time fantasizing that Spike was someone else.
When they were alone in the dark like this and he couldn’t look into those heated pools of deep water he tried to keep murmuring Spike’s name under his breath. Well, tried to keep murmuring his name as long as his lips weren’t in the middle of something else, like they were right now.
When his hot hands finally found the turgid prize they’d been searching for, Spike had arched spasmodically into him. He loved these moments, these moments where the vampire was so lost in the blissful sensations he was causing, when small noises snuck past his normally rigid control, when Spike was totally his. He could pretend then, that Spike actually loved him, actually cared for him as something other than an ego boosting fuck.
He knew the vampire loved Buffy, not him. He’d heard him scream it at the Slayer enough times, heard him whimper the words when she demanded them after a brutal beating, he knew it was true. He knew Buffy felt something back for Spike, no matter how many times she denied it. She hated that she loved him, hated that she craved his touch and soft words. She hated that her black and white world had been ripped apart, that a Slayer could ever love an evil soulless vampire. But she did. When she found out what Spike was doing behind her back… Xander didn’t know what she’d resort to in the end.
Spike let out a hoarse cry and spilt his seed in Xander’s fist, staining the towel Spike kept in his duster pockets for just these occasions. It saved their shirts and pants, and miraculously, each time Xander pulled it out it was crisp and clean. He pretended that meant something, but it was probably just Spike covering their tracks.
They were righting their clothes when the door opened and Willow stepped down a few steps. They hid in a corner and struggled to fix their clothing. Xander pressed a finger to his lips and pointed at Spike, making the message clear. -Be quiet!-
“X-Xander? You down here?” Willow called down to him.
Xander took a deep breath and plastered on a fake smile and turned around the corner. “Yeah Wills, just trying to find that valerian root. One of these days someone should come down here and organize things. Oh, wait, here it is!” He nonchalantly picked up a jar with three wizened looking root bundles. He’d spotted them earlier, but Spike showing up from the sewers so unexpectedly had driven his reasons for coming down there right out of his mind.
He was careful, he was calm, he was collected and Willow bought it all. He looked back once and only once, to see gold flecked eyes watch his retreat. He fantasized for a moment that it was because Spike was jealous or possessive or something that made him feel needed and wanted instead of just used.
He prattled on with Willow while they walked back to the research table and tried to keep the blush he could feel building from taking over. If he was a little flushed he could say he had been digging through boxes, but with a full on blush nothing he’d say would make sense. Buffy was there talking with Dawn and again he was reminded why no one could know about him and Spike.
Telling them about Spike meant explaining what kind of relationship they had, and that would lead them to know about the abusive relationship Buffy was indulging herself in. He couldn’t do that to her, not to Buffy. Part of him really wanted to help his friend in pain, but another part realized without Buffy in pain he wouldn’t have the farce of a relationship he had with Spike, he’d have nothing.
Guess which part won?
An hour or so later Spike came up from the basement and asked Giles if he had any paying monster hunting jobs about tonight and Xander ignored him, Spike ignored him back. The Scooby meeting went on as they all did.
He couldn’t stop thinking about the sinking, thrilling feeling sneaking around gave him. It made him feel alive, made him feel wanted, made him feel dirty and sexy and hot. Nothing else got him off that explosively, nothing else made him pant and sweat, but it was still wrong.
They’d do it again the next time Buffy laid a harsh hand on the blond, one would take solace the other would be used but carnally fulfilled. Everyone got what they needed from it, but no one got what they wanted. No one got the one thing above all else they wanted, and besides, even if he got his prize, even after Spike was his and his alone and loved only Xander, it would be still wrong.
He heard that phrase echo in his head every time he saw, heard or thought of Spike. “Still Wrong”… yet it felt oh so fucking good while it lasted. It was worth it, just to feel connected for the brief moment, just to feel noticed and cared for in the dark, groping in the shadows.
It was still wrong, but still worth it. From the look in Buffy’s eye Spike was going to need comforting again later this night. Xander would get them a motel room this time, out of town on Spike’s Desoto. He’d turn the lights on low so Spike’s skin seemed to glow and drink his fill of the sight. He’d etch every line and twist and shade and hue indelibly in his memory.
It would be worth it, and maybe this time Spike would spend the night and day instead of running out just as Xander got comfortable cradling his cooling body. Maybe this time he’d let himself be held by Xander, maybe this time Spike might need a little more comfort, maybe this time Spike would let Xander give him that extra bit he needed. Maybe this time they’d actually talk. That’d be nice too. It hadn’t happened yet, no matter how he asked, or how deviously he tried to wear the vampire out, but maybe this time it would happen.
It was worth it, it had to be! It was all he had.
He was trying to bandage his broken arm when he heard his crypt door open. He didn’t bother looking up, just clenched his eyes to keep the tears in. It wasn’t the loud bang the Slayer always made when she entered, it was the quiet sigh of his boy, he was safe for now. He hurt, every part of him, and here was the human to see just how far the Master Vampire had fallen, to help him ease his aches and bandage his wounds. To help him heal after another encounter with the Slayer.
He’d wanted her at first of course, wanted to dominate and control her, wanted to make her love him as he loved her, but that dream was swiftly shattered when reality came home to roost. He was helpless, chipped, at the complete mercy of a cruel blond who seemed to relish his pain just as he’d once had the luxury of doing.
Warm fingers slid under his chin and tilted his face up until his lips met Xander’s. The kiss was sweet, yet chaste, they still had their ceremony to perform. Well, Spike called it a ceremony, where Xander would look over every inch of his skin, kissing each and every bruise, burn and laceration he could find before bandaging it. The fingers grazed his skin where it was unblemished, eliciting soft sighs and quiet whimpers that he couldn’t keep bottled up inside.
The tears began to fall and those soft lips kissed them away, murmuring words of comfort and tenderness and nonsense calming sounds; it just made him cry harder. Oh how far he’d fallen, from what he was before to what his world was now, when the tenderness of a human had him in tears. Some part of Spike saw the mirror held before him, his own reflection in limpid brown pools; there was an unspoken kinship between them, both had felt pain when all they’d wanted was love.
Neither one of them ever spoke of why Spike needed such care and attention, it was an unspoken rule between them that neither wanted broken. Xander didn’t want to admit what his friend and hero was doing to a helpless creature and Spike… Spike didn’t want to admit he needed this tenderness so much he sometimes incited the Slayer into greater fury. He didn’t want to admit the lengths he went to just to get this moment of tenderness.
Xander’s lips found his, he felt himself moan in appreciation at the warmth invading his mouth. It was always like this, this heat taking over his body, even the Slayer couldn’t warm him like Xander could. He lifted his uninjured arm and cupped the back of his human’s head, pulling him in closer, deeper, until he heard Xander whimper in response.
He was always so sweet and tender, careful of every catalogued injury, making sure Spike felt nothing but bliss and those eyes! Those eyes never closed, never stopped looking at him with such care and love. He’d do anything to keep seeing those eyes looking down at him, even taunt the Slayer until she beat him near dust, just to see those eyes.
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