Impossible Listeners to Leaves Falling

Anna S

"That was very pleasurable," Anya said, propping herself up on one arm and looking down at Spike. "I had several more orgasms than usual."

"Thanks, Anya. Please, do share more details about my sexual inadequacy with the undead hooker." Xander glared at her across Spike's sprawled form, sarcasm ticking off his words. "And next week we can go on Sally Jessie and tell eighty million more people." The vampire, one arm tucked casually behind his head, looked back and forth between them with cool, detached interest.

"Oh, please." Anya sat up and drew on her dressing gown with jerky movements. "Don't start now. That was the first decent sex I've had in weeks, and you want to go and spoil it with your big fat ego." Her mellow, satisfied tone of moments earlier had turned cold and snippy.

Xander closed his eyes and counted to three, but somehow when three arrived he was saying, "You know, I'm not always the one who has a problem getting the motor running."

"No, you just refuse to carry the gas can."

"What the hell does *that* mean? I never refuse to--" He paused, tripping up on the metaphor. "Fill your tank," he finished awkwardly, feeling baffled and wondering if he made any sense. He hated riffing on her terms.

The vampire spoke up. "Listen, why don't I--"

"Oh? Well, I'm not sure the price of gas is worth the trip any more," Anya said as she got up from the bed and strode off. The bathroom door banged behind her, and a moment later came the sound of the shower running.

"Feisty little minx," Spike remarked.

"Shut up." Xander swung himself to the side of the bed and grabbed his wallet. "How much?"

"Three hundred."

"Three hundred?"

"That's what she promised."

Smarting at the insult to his manhood and his wallet, Xander counted out the bills and tossed them at the demon. "Here. Get out." Flinging the wallet back onto the bedside table, Xander grabbed his pants and began to dress, then felt an unnaturally strong hand grip his wrist, forcing him to leave the job undone. Angrily, he turned and found the whore staring interestedly at him, up close and way too personal.

"You know, you shouldn't ought to take that from her. Undermining your manhood like that. Of course, that's the problem, innit?"

Xander's face tightened. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You, mate." The vamp smiled, rather slyly, tipping his head as he considered Xander. "Not so uninterested as you made out. Don't think I didn't notice." His hand suddenly grasped Xander in a very fine and private place, stroking his aching, unfulfilled flesh. "Might be you want to think about switching teams."

"Is" Xander's breath struggled to rise. Other parts of him weren't so challenged.

"Well," the vamp stepped closer, "the one you're playing on? Seems you keep striking out."

Apparently Xander's sex life was junker cars and amateur baseball. Well, that seemed about right. He tried to remember what he'd been doing a moment ago, but things were beginning to slip away in a haze of heat and blood. Tongue thickening, he said, "I can' don't know what you're talking about."

Letting him go, the vampire stepped back, and Xander's head gave a little snap of shock at the loss. Spike shrugged. "'S all the same to me." He scooped up his money and his blue jeans, somehow managing to reassemble himself with his clothes before Xander could form a reply. "You ever change your mind, ring me up. In the book." Cigarette wedged in his mouth, Spike saluted him jauntily and left.

The water of the shower stopped.

In the book, Xander thought.

But of course, no.

Anya billowed out from the steam in two pink towels, one wrapped around her body, the other around her head. "Oh, did he leave? That's too bad. I wanted to give him a bonus."

Then again.

The End

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