Summary: Xander watched, mouth falling open, as the black t-shirt fluttered to the floor, leaving a very shirtless Spike behind.
A/N: Written for the kink_bingo prompt-striptease. Takes place mid-season 5.
“Thanks and please, don’t ever come again,” Xander said to himself as he locked the Magic Box’s front door.
Sixteen customers, all streaming in at ten minutes to closing time and all desperately in need of a consultation before they could buy anything. This had definitely not been part of his Sunday evening plans. Especially as what he knew about the dangers of combining hensbane and nightshade as part of a banishing potion could be inscribed on the head of an angel dancing on the head of a pin.
But Anya had begged. Willow and Tara were taking Dawn to some girly swap and shop thing, and Anya had been invited. He couldn’t say no, not when she was so excited at finally having some…what did she call it? Oh, yeah-“female solidarity showcased by the acquisition of cosmetics and ingestion of calorie dense foods”. So, here he was, 6 p.m. on a Sunday, shoving the last browser out the door and wishing he could have closed earlier.
He’d thought about it. A quick flip of the sign and presto, home free and in time to settle down with a marathon of Battlestar Galactica. He didn’t, though. He was pretty sure that Ahn would find out if he threw the lock even a second before the official closing time. She was scary like that.
Never come between a woman and her commission. At least, not between his woman and her commission – not if you enjoyed peace and quiet. There was pain and then there was closing early. The former could be fun if done right, the latter…Xander shivered. He’d lived in Sunnydale his whole life, his best friend was the Slayer and he’d helped to stop several apocalypses. He wasn’t sure he could imagine tortures gruesome enough to compare to the pain of closing early.
The rhythmic snap of fists hitting the speed bag broke into his thoughts and Xander smiled. The training room qualified as Giles’ best idea ever. And he didn’t think that just because watching Buffy push through her pre-patrol warm-ups offered up literal months of fantasy material. He enjoyed helping her train even without all the bouncing and sweating.
His smile froze as he peered through the half-open door. His eyes locked onto the electric hair and he groaned internally. Spike. Definitely not the supernaturally strong blonde he’d been hoping to find.
He began to close the door when a flash of something milk white caught his eye. Intrigued, he nudged the door open a fraction of an inch wider. Every time Spike took a swing at the bag, his shirt rode up. Xander stared, mesmerized by the inch of creamy skin.
He shook his head. This was Spike. Spike! Evil, bleached pain in the Scooby ass Spike who was definitely not in any way attractive.
So why was he still staring?
It was the tease, Xander decided. Seeing just an inch was like…provocation! Wait, maybe that was the wrong word?
As he tried to work out whether or not he had the right word, Xander noticed the faint slapping sound of Spike’s punches had stopped. He froze, not wanting to be caught staring.
There’s nobody here, he chanted silently. Nobody here, just you and your slightly too small shirt.
A slightly too small shirt that began to creep up over Spike’s body, revealing acres of tight, muscled flesh. Xander watched, mouth falling open, as the black t-shirt fluttered to the floor, leaving a very shirtless Spike behind. The vampire stretched, pushing his arm up towards the ceiling.
Xander whirled away, flattening himself against the doorframe. He dropped his head backwards, beginning a slow, repetitious bang against the wood. If that didn’t get the image of Spike’s cock peeking out from the waistband of his jeans, he’d have to seriously consider a lobotomy.
His mouth was literally watering. How crazy was that? One glimpse of a cock and he was beyond aroused. Aroused was five stops and one painful erection back.
No, this wasn’t happening. He’d just have a firm talk with his dick about not finding Spike attractive and that would be that. Even as the thought flitted across his mind, he was turning back to the training room.
Xander felt his breath lodge in his throat. Spike stood in the center of the training room, a bottle of water in his hand. Droplets of water ran down his throat and chest, pooling around his belly button. Xander’s eyes followed the course of the water.
The water ran down and down, finally stopping at a large wet patch in Spike’s crotch. Xander stared helplessly as long, strong fingers slowly undid the button fly of those damp jeans, revealing a thick cock surrounded by golden brown curls. He bit his lip as the jeans seemed to melt way, trying to resist the urge to stroke his own painfully hard cock.
Spike leaned back against the pommel horse, hands wandering over his body. Xander couldn’t stop the breathless moan from escaping this time, his stinging lips flying open as Spike’s hands plucked eagerly at stiff nipples. His own hips kept pace with the rough tugs of Spike’s hand.
He wanted to feel what Spike felt; the crinkled puckers of those soft brown nipples, the wetness that gleamed at the tip of Spike’s cock, the firmness of Spike’s lips, moaning under him. Listening to Spike moan as he came, Xander jerked as his orgasm hit without a single touch to his needy cock. Thick gouts of cum spread out over his cock and soft cotton briefs. He sagged against the door, unintentionally pushing it open.
“Hope you enjoyed the show,” Spike said, staring at him with a smirk. “Next time won’t be free.”
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