The Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Rating: NC-17 - yeah, it's PWP allright.
Spoilers: None - there are no plot devices, though I assume it happens sometime during or after season 4 - there's Anya. Except not.
Summary: What part of Porn without Plot do you not understand?
Warnings: I didn't bother with any of the common straight-man-first-gay-experience-freak-out thing. Appreciate me for it. Oh, also adultery, and if the rest of this wasn't enough - sex.



Triple Dog Dare


by
Rayne Jelly


The car was sweltering. I was so hot I was panting with it; somewhere out in the middle of the Nevada desert, dry heat made drier by the open windows as we hurtled down the road. Then there was the silence. It was the sort of stifling silence that always makes my skin crawl, because you only get that sort of quiet before a really big storm. Not that I was planning on storming, but it was the company, there wasn’t a lot of room for conversation.

“Spike, why doesn’t your car have air conditioning?”

“Because it’s a classic.” Spike told me, and I left it at that, because it was too hot to care.

I must have drifted off for a bit, the hum of the Desoto’s ancient engine and the dark quiet providing the perfect cocoon after a long day. Spike insisted on dragging me out of town, half way across Utah and I never actually knew why until I was suddenly being used as bait – there was running, screaming, a certain amount of bruising, and I was furious with him. I’d thought we were friends, well, sort of – at least not the sort of enemies that throw each other in front of charging demons without any warning. The conversation after that, even our curious brand of mutual mockery, could only be stilted. In my state of Zen-like quiet doze I didn’t realize we were slowing down until we had stopped.

Spike pulled up against the side of the road, shut off the engine, and got out of the car, I followed him. He walked a little way into the desert, heedless of potential snake-pits, scorpions, or any other freaky fauna that might live out here, but vampires never have to worry about that sort of thing. Most creepy crawlies avoid vampires like the plague, they sense something in them that’s scarier than they could ever be, and they stay in their holes. I, however, do not have the vamp mojo working for me, instead I got a big ‘bite me’ sign at birth – I stuck pretty close.

He stood for a second, nodded to himself, and lit a cigarette accompanied by the quiet clink of his Zippo; to this day I don’t know why he decided on a quiet smoke in the middle of nowhere. Most people talk about deserts in terms of extremes – so hot during the day that your brain starts to melt in fifteen minutes, and so cold at night your teeth chatter and your lungs stop wanting to operate. They’re right. It felt good at first, getting away from the car and away from the road that was still radiating heat from the pavement; but the absolute lack of warmth soon froze the sweat on my skin and I started to shiver.

“Why are we out here?”

“Because.” It was about as much of an answer as I ever got from him, and I was too tired to even try for details.

All I wanted to do was go back to the car, and better yet back to California, and back the basement that was cool by day and warm by night. I could feel the mother of all whines coming on, but Spike wouldn’t care one way or another, he’d stand here freezing his cojones off just to spite me. “I’m freezing.”

“Bet I could do something to take your mind off the temperature.” The suggestion was delivered with his generic leer, something I had been subject to on more than one occasion, and I rolled my eyes. I was hardly Willow, I wasn’t about to turn beet red because Spike had done something suggestive (again) and I wasn’t going to kick his ass like Buffy – I don’t know why he bothers.

Then, there was a part of me that knew it was a generic leer, and wondered in a mean sort of way what would happen if I took him up on the offer.  I grinned in the dark and gave my best shot to some vocal seduction, a little strangled because I was trying not to laugh. “Why don’t you do something then?”

Spike whipped around, looking gobsmacked, eyes wide, mouth open, if he’d been a cartoon his whole face would have bulged in surprise, and I cracked up. It took him a minute to recover. He rallied well, putting one hand on his hip and staring at me – Spike has a hell of a stare, it’s so blue and so cold you feel your blood freezing in the vein. “Was that a dare, Harris?”

My giggles died off immediately and I stared back, meeting him gaze for gaze and I itched to wipe the superior look off his face. I never could back down, especially against Spike, he just gets under my skin and no amount of common sense can ever really deter me from upping the ante – I smirked. “If I was still in first grade that would’ve been a triple dog dare.”

“Right.” Spike looked me over once, quickly, nervously, and I glared at him for it until he stepped forward. I didn’t back away, because he was Spike, and I am Xander, and we have a habit of not backing away from each other – I wasn’t about to call off the dare. He grabbed me by the shoulder and mashed our mouths together, I left my eyes open, he didn’t; it’s a bit ridiculous to watch someone kiss you, there was eventual tongue and he tasted like smoke. Finally he stepped back, nodded once, and waited.

“That was terrible.” At least my mind wasn’t on the weather anymore, though I was still freezing.

“What!?”

“I mean, I guess I get it…” I shrugged a bit and watched Spike squirm – it was fun and I had to bite my cheek to keep from laughing. What I was doing made no sense, we dared each other all the time, but nothing like this – and I didn’t think about it. “I suppose I’d be a bad kisser too if I was worried about fangs all the time…”

“Bad kisser my arse!” Spike was puffed up and indignant for all of five seconds before he figured out what I was up to. I’ll give him this: he’s not unintelligent, just really easy to rile. “You think you could do better?”

I didn’t have to say anything, I’m sure he could read it on my face, but I did anyway – “Yeah.”

“Prove it.”

It was my turn to step forward, I very slowly and deliberately put one hand on his elbow and one behind his neck, guiding his mouth slowly to mine and I could practically feel his eyes close in anticipation. Our lips met gently, and I knew he could feel every rough brush of them because I planned it that way, and it was surprisingly good. Soft, tender, like you would kiss a lover, and good – Spike was warmer than I thought, softer, and easy to kiss. My thumb came around the side of his ear to run across his jaw, and hair gel crunched under my fingers when I finally used my tongue to part his teeth, carefully invading his mouth, drawing his tongue out with my own and inspecting his palate until he started to kiss back, finally, moving his jaw against mine, and the stubble on my chin was suddenly unbearably itchy. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was bothered. The taste of smoke was still there, less noticeable now as I drew his tongue into my mouth, and Spike slid his hands around to the small of my back, not bothered that much then.

When I pulled away for breath it was Spike that gasped, and I grinned at him, “Toldja.”

For a minute Spike looked like he wanted to ask me where I’d learned it, and I would’ve said ‘My ex-girlfriend the current demon, and my current girlfriend the ex-demon.’ But he didn’t ask. Instead he gave me a calculating look and shrugged casually, “I dunno, could’ve been better.”

I raised an eyebrow, bit my lip, laughed at him a little, and there’s nothing Spike hates more than being laughed at, which is why I did it of course. Getting under Spike’s skin is… my mouth was buzzing, I could feel my heart beat, harder than normal and I knew Spike could too – I’d lost the plot, the point of the game, and I upped the dare. Spike dove back in, sucking on my lower lip and dragging me forward with the hand that never quite left my waist. I laughed into his mouth and he snorted in reply, making both our tongues tingle and someone moaned. We stood there for a long time, mouthing and nibbling at each other, holding one another as though it meant something, and any passers by would have thought it did. It was enjoyable, and I felt like a bastard because it wasn’t much else.

Slowly his hands crept up under my t-shirt, cold and I gasped, his mouth was soft, luke-warm, but his hands were cold as the desert, and he ran his fingers across my back, up to my shoulder blades, and back down across my stomach before resting on my hips – my skin endeavored to warm them, warm him. His fingers dug into the muscles in my back, stinging and soothing, making me ache, the sore places caused by the recent adventure in surviving, new sore places because I had to push myself against him. Spike’s mouth moved away from mine, down my chin and neck, resting on my collar bone: I was going have a hickey but I didn’t actually care. Vampire – sucking, I laughed again softly and took the moment to slide my own hands under Spike’s shirt. His skin was soft and cool, firm under my fingertips unlike Anya’s warm squashiness, and I let my fingers wander up his ribs and across his shoulders, rucking his shirt up because they’re always so damned tight, and Spike let go of my collarbone long enough to peel both our shirts off, solving my problem completely.

Spike the problem solver. Always talking, always planning, never remembering how to follow through on a thing – I had no idea what I was doing, except that I was kissing him again. And I wondered maybe if this was his way of solving the problem with me.

Sucking on his lower lip, and some part of me had always wanted to do that because it’s just as thick as it looks and I wanted to sink my teeth into it. His skin is smooth, and pale, like milk as I let my hands wander across Spike’s chest and back, sucking on his canines because it made him growl softly and whatever I could do to him that he couldn’t do to me was only an advantage. When my thumb made fleeting contact with a nipple, Spike jerked so I made that fleeting contact again, drawing the nipple between my fingers, pinching it very softly, and feeling his erection against my hip. It occurred to me then, and probably to him, what we were doing and I pulled away, breathing deeply. Spike looked confused, but then I was still playing with his nipple, thinking in a sort of fidelity versus winning sort of way, and I was hard too.

Spike brought our lips back in contact, ignoring my vague inner dilemma, but the pace had slowed down to an exploratory crawl, and I let him pull me to the ground on top of him. I wasn’t worried about crushing him, and it was nice, as my knees scraped into the hard Nevada soil to know he wasn’t going to complain. Spike groaned as I rested my weight against him, very slowly and deliberately grinding my erection against his, and I watched him, feeling shocks of pleasure coursing over my veins and pooling in my belly, grinning as he drew in unnecessary air. I tried not to think about the shudder that ran down my spine when he grabbed my hips and pulled me against him harder, and harder still, bruising because our whole relationship, association, whatever revolves around bruising, and I sunk back towards his mouth, pulling myself against him, forgetting about the dare just long enough to feel him shudder beneath me.

It was the slow sort of rhythm that can last all night, a perfect, methodical drag, and just enough stimulation to keep us both painfully hard. I kissed his sternum, my whole body shaking while Spike’s fingertips dug into my butt leaving two rows of parallel welts and a pair higher up on my hips, and I let my mouth move across his chest, changing the angle of each slow thrust against him until he was jerking up to meet them. Fucking mindlessly, because I was. My mouth found the nipple that my hand had been playing with and I ran my tongue across it until it was rock hard and I moved on to it’s neighbor, lavishing equal attention on it. They’re easy and comfortable to play with, and it makes him gasp desperately for air, and I like making him gasp: I like making him lose the words in his head and listening to the stream of incoherent babble that pours off his tongue. I am now very familiar with his tongue, and I like that too.

Spike’s hands migrated from my ass to the button of my jeans, tugging and yanking on them until the restrictive denim finally tore apart at the zip – and he likes making me gasp too. Spike had a button fly, so it seemed to take forever to return the favor, the way my hands shook as Spike stroked me through my boxers had nothing to do with it, because it was just a dare after all, and denial has never been my friend. He teased, he stroked, he prodded, and I moaned into his chest and forgot what my hands were for until he swatted my butt and woke my brain up. I sat back on my ankles for more room and better leverage and I learned that Spike doesn’t wear underwear, which really doesn’t surprise me at all.

He didn’t seem to mind that my hands had desert dust on them when I ran my fingers against the exposed head of his penis, letting them play in the dribbles of pre-come, pushing down the shaft and back up again. Curiously, deliberately wrapping my hand around him because his penis, like the rest of him, seemed to be steel barely sheathed in silky skin and I didn’t think of touching another man, only that he was there, and conveniently so was I. I stared, manipulated, thrilled at every twitch and every hitched breath from the vampire beneath me, and I didn’t feel the cold of him.

Spike, who had been content to fondle me through my boxers, realized that I had upped the ante and dragged them down towards my knees. I gasped when the air hit my cock, and moaned as Spike rolled my balls across his palm, the fire in my belly making me weak limbed and clumsy; Spike chuckled at me, that dry superior sort of chuckle that I always thought was infuriating and never realized was sexy – I bit his nipple in retaliation. It wasn’t a hard bite, but he bucked up into my hand like a livewire, so I did it again until he had gooseflesh and his mouth hung open as he panted.  He shuddered continuously as I slid my fingers from the base of his cock to the tip of it and back, forming a tight channel with my fist and occasionally using the pad of my thumb to tease his foreskin, gently tugging it in different directions. I don’t have a foreskin, one of millions of American boys that were circumcised at birth – but Spike’s older, much older, and subsequently avoided circumcision on a whole. It’s interesting, barely pliant, and his skin is sensitive enough that he stopped breathing when I touched it, intoxicating. My heart was pounding as a counterpoint to his pointedly not, and in later years Spike was kind enough not to mention it.

Spike’s eyes were closed, and he wasn’t really paying attention anymore, still unconsciously stroking me in time to what my own hand was doing, but he wasn’t paying attention, operating on auto pilot, and that was good too. The hand I’d left resting on his knee slid upward to join the other one, letting my fingers curl in his soft and wiry pubic hair, sliding lower to cup his balls, feeling their weight against my palm, then lower again until I could stroke and pinch his perineum, Spike yelped. I laughed softly until he glared at me, blue eyed and disheveled, and then I made it up to him, using the tip of knuckle to put pressure on the soft strip of skin while the rest of my hand played with his scrotum. His hands slid away from me to rest against my thighs, squeezing them when I did something he particularly liked. I tugged at his balls gently, restricting their blood flow and he didn’t even bother with a glare, merely panted, I couldn’t remember what we were playing for, but I’m fairly sure I was winning.

I used one hand to keep his sac away from his body, keeping him from coming as I played with him, not maliciously, at least not on purpose; continuing to drag my hand up and down his dick, harder and faster than before, stopping for a moment to tease his foreskin again until his cock was deep red and dripping pre-come. I crawled up him slowly, kissing away the glare he shot at me and warming him from the outside – I wondered if I was leaving heat trails on his skin, how it would show up in heat sensing infrared, little streaks of yellow on a blue map. I wondered if it felt as strange and as good to him, the contrast, and I simply enjoyed the contact for a while, releasing his balls from the prison of my hand and grinding us together, once, twice, crushing him into the ground, and Spike cried out, his nails digging into my shoulders, and somehow it was perfect.

Spike came across both our stomachs, jerking and growling into my hand, and he sunk back against the hard ground, breathing deeply. I watched him, smirking and hard as a rock, thinking I’d won but there was only one way to be absolutely sure, so I crawled away, waited until Spike regained his breath and showed signs of life before I said: “I win.”

The vampire pounced, forcing me backwards onto the hard and dusty ground; Spike leaned over me, pinning me down with only his arms. “That’s what you think.”

He surprised me by kissing me, long, slow, and sensuous, dragging my own tongue out to play with his, battling it, and for the first time I let my eyes close, drowning in the attention. He dragged his hands down my sides and back up again, rougher than Anya’s colder, trailing in the sweat that formed on my chest, and his mouth dropped away from mine again, down my jaw and my neck, slowly and with care as one hand continued to caress my sides and the other fondled my cock and balls almost thoughtfully. He was everywhere, and he was nowhere, pausing to stare. He was thinking, I realized, not quite sure of what to do next but completely unwilling to lose, and I almost laughed until he moved again, a bit faster this time marking a path of kisses and saliva down my chest and stomach, licking his own semen off my stomach, my dick jumped at the thought. He stopped, briefly, to suck on my hip bone, biting gently, leaving a bruise there that Anya would ask me about later, but I didn’t care about that one either – there were bruises everywhere. The culmination of our association, as it were.

Finally, when I didn’t think I could stand any more of the light touching, of the easy contemplation, when I was squirming, and when my knees were sliding apart of their own accord, Spike made up his mind. He sat back for a moment and stared at me until he had my complete attention, it wasn’t a hard thing to obtain, and slowly – so very slowly that my toes curled in anticipation and so very slowly that I was panting before he got there, Spike leaned forward and took the head of my cock between his lips, flicking his tongue out over the slit and gently sucking. His mouth was cool, slick, and wet, and I wanted so badly to push up into it, feel more of that incredibly gentle suction, but he had both hands on my hips, pinning them down until I was near begging for him to just do something. Just when I thought my brain couldn’t take it anymore, and when I was going to break down and beg him to please, please, please just suck my cock, he moved, hands still holding me in place, but mouth open, sliding gently down the shaft of my penis and licking it in tiny little motions that sent my mind into orbit. Spike’s tongue swirled against me, firm and remarkably dexterous as it alternately pressed against then flicked the thick vein in the underside of my cock, and I shuddered helplessly under the onslaught.

I was trying not to pant, biting my lip so hard it bled, staring at the sky that seemed to rock, this way and that with every new sensation, and my hands were digging, scrabbling for purchase against the ground, which amused my assailant to no end. Great waves of heat and heartbeat were making my body throb, every molecule was on fire, warm, and desperate, and dry with gasping for air. Spike was bobbing up and down on my cock now, chuckling which was torture, and still I couldn’t move as he did his very best to suck my brains out through my dick – I’m not entirely sure he didn’t succeed. I needed release, could feel it tingling on the horizons, but it wasn’t enough; my heels still in their boots dragged against the ground as I tried to gain leverage, and my fingers dug their way into the desert rock as Spike’s malicious, wonderful, cruel mouth teased up and down, swirled and nibbled, and his tongue clicked against the head of my penis so I thought I might die, but I wasn’t there yet. “Please…” It was strangled, and I hated myself for it – I could feel Spike smirking, because he had won, and having won he did it graciously.

Spike moved his hands opening his throat as I bucked up helplessly, but he took me down to the root, swallowing against my cock before pulling back and letting me do it again. One hand moved to roll my balls again in his palm, running the rough pads of his fingers against the most sensitive spaces on my body, the other gently stroking my thigh, and I could almost believe that it was real. I thrust up into his mouth, then ground down against the hand tormenting my sac and came spectacularly. My mind went blank, not the happy blank of staring into space while my female friends talk about shoes, but the complete and total crystalline white of orgasm that shattered every thought in my head, and Spike swallowed. I remembered that.

When I got back to my brain, I was cold again, the sweat of exertion drying on my skin in the chill desert air. Spike had pulled up his pants and was smoking a cigarette; I wondered briefly how long I had been out of touch before I decided it didn’t matter – it had been a long day. “That was a lot better than the pizza dare.” I said, dazed, and sated.

“Dolt.” Spike replied automatically, and finished his cigarette.

I pushed myself to my feet, feeling like a quarter mile of tread road, and dressed slowly, pulling and buttoning my pants, handing Spike his shirt before putting mine on. We were dusty, and rumpled, but then, we had been dusty and rumpled before we stopped, and I very carefully did not think of what would happen when we got home. Or for that matter what either of us would say on the drive home, and as it turned out we said nothing. “I’m freezing.”

“Let’s go back then.”

And on the way back to the beaten up Desoto Spike said “I’m sorry I used you as bait.”

“Meh. I’m over it.”




The End



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