There's a Hole in My Bucket

by
Jane Davitt

He tightens the last knot, blessing his week as a Scout, and steps back to admire his handiwork. One vampire, tied to chair, helpless. Check. Good work, Xander.

And if he’d turned away, that would have been that, but he doesn’t. He looks at Spike instead and that’s not good, that’s not good at all.

Because Spike’s looking at him, head tilted, bottom lip tucked in neatly under white teeth, smiling knowingly, and he’s just about to part those lips and say something, and Xander knows what he’ll say because Spike isn’t looking at his eyes, he’s gone south for the winter, and his arms can’t move much, but his fingers are curled in a shape that’s flattering if it’s meant to be an exact fit, and shutting him up is suddenly the most important thing in the world. Xander stops and breathes. Thinks fast.

Staking him is out. Hitting him would be, well, it would be counterproductive - no. No hitting. A gag? No time to look for one. Xander slaps his hand over Spike’s mouth and panics as the lips move, squirming against his palm and getting it – wet? Is Spike licking his hand? Because that’s just cheating and the cool, lazy circles are –

Xander snatches his hand away, glares frantically into blazing blue eyes and wipes the smile off that beautiful face the best way he can.

Can’t smile and kiss at the same time. Not if you’re trying, and somehow he thinks Spike’s the sort who’d try.

It starts out as a hard press of closed mouth on startled open one. Xander feels the way he did when he kissed a frog for Willow because she was scared of them but wanted a prince. He’s waiting for it to be gross, not sure if he’s going to pull back...but the instant Spike gets what’s happening, he’s leaning forward and taking control, moving just enough to capture Xander’s mouth and calm him down, so that in seconds Xander’s kissing him in a slow, languid way, the dull ache of his knees against the thin carpet distant, Spike’s T shirt riding up as his hands grab and knead at slender shoulders. Then his hands move down and he’s brushing against ropes and bare skin – God, yes - and his tongue’s moving forward fast and the kiss is hard and demanding and somehow he knows if it lasts just a little longer, he’s going to...

Oh. He did. Damn. Only going to be one way to wipe the smile off now. Xander’s hand moves to Spike’s zip, tugs it down and, yep, that’ll work. He can’t actually see Spike’s face, but you can’t smile and whimper at the same time.

Whew. Close one.

The End

Feed the Author

Home

There's a Hole in My Bucket

by Jane Davitt

The End

by
Jane Davitt