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BTVS, Spike/Xander. PG for now, hopefully NC-17 before too long.
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Learning the Ropes
Part One
Xander loved San Francisco. It was a wild, fun town. It was also an artist's town, and Xander's custom handmade furniture was so popular that he had a sizable backlog on his waiting list. Xander's talent for working in unusual woods and his penchant for designing cubbyholes and secret compartments into everything made him very popular with humans and demons alike.
It was also a great town for broadening your horizons. In the last few years Xander had embraced his bisexuality and the fact that he gravitated toward strong, dominant personalities. He could admit it now: he liked being bossed around. A lot.
The San Francisco Reader had quite a large Personals section, and Xander had become addicted to reading it for a bit of a laugh, especially the "Wild Side" column. But lately he'd thought more and more about answering a few ads, or even placing one of his own. He wasn't looking for that special someone to settle down with; he just wanted to find someone to share a little good, not-so-clean fun. Finally, he'd decided to place an ad.
After an hour tweaking the same paragraph, he decided it would simply have to do. With one last furtive glance over his shoulder, Xander hit the "post" button. The butterflies in his stomach cloned themselves as he wondered what the hell he was getting himself into.
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EASY TO PLEASE
BiWM, mid 20's, 6ft, 190lbs., brown/brown. Good sense of humor, cute, broad-shouldered, lots of stamina. Enjoy swimming, biking, playing pool, sci-fi movies/TV, Chunky Monkey Ice Cream, and getting spanked. ISO an experienced lean mean sex machine to show me the ropes. Age, sex and race open. My first ad, be gentle with me.
piratebooty@fransisconet.net
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Two days later, and he'd already gotten several replies. Sorting through them, he quickly rejected a few that were either a bit too desperate or downright obscene. That left two maybe's that he couldn't muster much enthusiasm for, and one reply he found rather intriguing:
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Dear piratebooty,
Aaarr Me Bucko! Looks like we both posted ads on the same day. You sound like you're my kind of guy. My ad is listed below. If you're interested, email me. We could chat a bit, get to know each other. If we seem compatible, we could meet somewhere for a game of pool or something. No pressure.
ALL NIGHT LONG
BiWM, mid-30's, 5'9", 155 lbs, blonde/blue. Nightowl, experienced, handsome, lean but well-muscled, agile & very well-endowed. Smoker. Into punk rock, R&B, poker, pool, martial arts, action/horror films. ISO someone open-minded for adult fun & games. Want to safely explore your submissive side? Your fantasy is my desire. Evenings only.
Dead_sexy@demonmail.net
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Dear Dead_sexy,
It sounds like we have a lot in common. *grin* I suppose I should tell you a bit more about myself. Hmm.
I moved to San Francisco four years ago after a stint in the Peace Corps. I make furniture for a living. I live with a spoiled cat named Odo. My favorite movie is Apocolypse Now, my favorite TV show is Farscape and my favorite authors are Raymond Chandler, Agatha Christie and Terry Prachett. I’m a bleeding heart liberal, and I even volunteered for the green party last election.
I'm loyal to a fault, I blurt out stupid embarrassing things at the worst possible moments, and I have no dress sense whatsoever. Before I came to San Francisco, my past relationships were all with very beautiful, haughty women who enjoyed bossing me around. I realized a couple of years ago that I really liked bossy guys as well.
And now if I haven't bored you to tears or put you to sleep already, tell me a bit more about you!
piratebooty
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Part Two
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P.B.,
Oh, you do sound amusing! I’m definitely keeping you. I like babblers; they can say the most interesting things in the heat of passion. *leer*
As for me, I was born in London, but I’ve been living in the States for ages. I resettled in San Francisco a few months ago. I work for the investigative branch of a small law firm, so I keep rather odd hours I’m afraid. It doesn’t leave a whole lot of time for the bar scene and besides, the meat markets here bore me bloody stupid. Right now I’m just looking for a bloke to shoot pool and watch Doctor Who with, and if he likes to spend the occasional evening being tied up and rimmed until he passes out from too many orgasms, so much the better. I don’t feel right without having someone to look after, spoil rotten, and discipline on occasion. * evil grin * Wouldn’t mind having someone to show me the sights on the less seamy side of town, either. God knows I wouldn’t want to spend even more time socializing with the people I work with: dim-witted lawyers and poncy tight-assed librarians who haven’t a clue how to relax and enjoy themselves.
So how about it? Want to meet for beer and a game of pool? No worries, I promise I won’t try to get in your pants right off the bat. Not unless you ask real nicely, anyway.
D.S.
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Dear D.S.
Wow. You really have a way with words. With an offer like that, how can I resist? *grin*
Are you anywhere close to North Beach? Brit’s Pub is on Columbus Avenue and Broadway. It would be fun to see what a real Brit thought of the food. And they have billiard tables!
The investigative branch of a law firm, huh? Does that mean you’re a private eye? That’s pretty cool. I’ve never met a private eye before.
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Dear P.B.,
Basically, yeah. And props for not calling me a private dick.
I’ve been to Brit’s before, it’s not far from my work. They have damn good beer, but stay away from the food. Real British food isn’t nearly that bad. There’s a bloody brilliant Indian restaurant up the street from Brit’s though, we could meet there for dinner and then stroll up to Brit’s and shoot a bit of pool. How’s Friday at nine sound?
D.S.
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Dear D.S.,
That works for me. Wow, a date with a real private eye! How will I know you?
P.B.
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P.B.,
Ask for the table for two under the name of Sutton. I’ll call & make reservations right now. See you Friday at nine, warm, dark and handsome!
D.B.
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Saturday evening...
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You magnificent bastard. I nearly keeled over when I first saw you last night. I still can’t quite believe I didn’t dream the whole thing.
I’ve been sitting here for hours trying to figure out what I want to say to you. Last night was the best night of my entire life. And I’m not just talking about the naughty touching, although wow, that was incredible. The motorcycle ride along the highway, the drive-in movie, the midnight swim in the fountain, getting chased off by golf course security – that was the most fun I’ve had in like, ever. You really know how to show a guy a good time.
I can’t stop thinking about you. Your laugh, and that little krinkle you get around your eyes. The hard, compact yet well-muscled way you felt against me. That goodnight kiss – holy reversed polarity, Batman! That was amazing! I’ve had actual intercourse that wasn’t anything near as hot as that kiss.
At the risk of sounding totally pathetic, are you doing anything tonight?
Xan
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Oh thank God, when I dropped you off I was afraid I’d never hear from you again. I thought I’d lost my touch.
Christ, Xan, you really know how to kiss. I could happily spend years just snogging you, you great burk. I want to taste you again. I want you to feel me so deep inside you that you see stars. I want to hear you scream my name as you empty your balls deep inside me. I want you to tell me about every fantasy, every secret kink you’ve ever had, and then I want to act out each and every one of them with you.
I could be there in an hour.
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Oh God, Spike, yes please!
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Three months later…
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Pack an overnight bag. Be out front in an hour. If you aren’t ready and waiting when I get there I’m going to turn you over my knee and spank your pretty bottom until it glows red, and then I’m going to get out the camera and take lots of photos of that luscious bright red ass of yours.
Speaking of, check out the shots from last night. Quite photogenic, you are – the camera adores you. That one with you kneeling at my feet and wrapping those pouty lips around my cock is my favorite. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. You have such adorable kinks, darling. Just thinking about you gets me so hard.
How do you feel about matching nipple rings? It is our three-month anniversary, after all.
Signed,
Me
*see attachments*
bj1.jpg, bj2.jpg, facial1.jpg, rim1.jpg, assfuck1.jpg, assfuck2.jpg, assfuck3.jpg
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*wibble*
Christ, Spike. I’m never going to make it till you get here if you keep talking like that. Why is it that you can say such incredibly sexy things, but when I try to say sexy stuff like that to you I sound completely retarded?
I don’t dare look at those photos now or I’ll come all over the computer and you know the keyboard still doesn’t work right from last time. You’ve already turned me into a panting puddle of need. Hurry, I need you here now!
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Two days later…
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Dear Xander,
Right now, you’re still snoring away upstairs. We’ve barely left the bedroom for the last two days, and it’s still all I can do to tear myself away from your side. But I needed to tell you what I can’t seem to say to your face. I love you so much, Xan. I love the way you always hope for the best, but you don’t get disappointed when the worst happens. I love your beautiful body, and your curious, intelligent mind. I love the way you got blackout curtains just for me. I love the way you patch me up when I get hurt, clucking over me like a mother hen.
I love the way your face lights up when I enter the room. I love your breathy moans when your grasping hole pulls me deep inside. I love the way you tremble in my arms and sigh my name like a prayer to heaven when you come. But most of all I love the way that you love me. I’m yours Xander, and I’m afraid you’re just going to have to get used to the fact that you are never getting rid of me now.
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Spike inhaled the last of his cigarette and blew the smoke towards the open window, watching it curl away on the early morning breeze. Now it was done. He’d poured his heart out like the moonstruck mediocre poet he’d been a lifetime ago... and strangely enough it felt bloody good. Like an enormous burden off his chest. Right this moment, he felt happy enough to burst. Sure, either of them could die tommorrow, but bugger all if he wasn’t going to enjoy the hell out of today while it lasted. Suddenly all he could think about was the warm bed and even warmer boy he had waiting for him upstairs.
As Spike stubbed out his cigarette and shut the kitchen window, his laptop dinged to signal a new email had arrived.
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Love you too, Spike. I’m yours, you should know that by now. Come back to bed and I’ll show you.
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The End
