Secret Rendezvous


by
Obsession_is



Part One

Flesh slides against flesh, sweat-slickened and moist. Moans echo from the walls, cries of pain mix with pleasure when Spike enters Xander swiftly. Their coupling is hard and fast, nothing soft about it.

Fangs scrape across skin, bringing blood to the surface, which is licked away by a greedy tongue. A sigh of relief comes when there is no signal from the chip. Wanted, the pain is, needed. Mouth meets skin, body meets body, and desire meets desire. Softness is abandoned in favor of a more primal need. Passion, hard and rough, love…maybe, but not that they would admit. Tonight is about need, the need for more, and the need for it all, the need for each other…for one to be buried to the hilt in the other, pounding hard and fast as if their lives depend on it.

Cool semen spurts into Xander, soothing his heated flesh from the inside out. It’s like this every time, Xander thinks as he pushes Spike’s head to his still throbbing erection, moaning as it is taken in and worked with an expert tongue, lips, and throat, swallowing everything Xander offers.

And it is…like that every time.

Spike gets up; wiping his mouth with his arm, or sleeve…whatever is handy. He dresses quickly, not bothering to say anything, not even a ‘thanks for the shag’. Xander does not expect it either. He has grown accustomed to the silence, the lack of any physical contact other than the fucking. No kisses for them, no hugs, or mushy sentiments of love.

Just fucking.

Xander gets up, dressing as well, keeping his eyes and hands to himself. They both walk out of the old crypt that had once been home to Spike. They patrol the rest of the night in silence, nothing needing to be said, having all been done moments before.





Part Two

The night air sends a chill through Xander as he walks slowly, wild flowers in hand, through the woods. It is his nightly ritual, to visit the grave of his friend, talk to her silently, tell her how Dawn is doing; how he is doing…he always lies on that last one. However, he has a feeling, wherever she is, she knows.

Buffy always seemed to know when he was lying, or at least holding back. He misses her. The gang basically split apart after her death. Xander and Spike are the only ones doing patrol anymore. Willow and Tara are still at school, although they hang around the magic shop more than around Dawn, Spike, or Xander.

Anya…well, she could not handle Xander’s grief. Partly because it took time away from her orgasm time and partly because deep down she knew, if she were to die right then, he would not grieve for her the way he does for Buffy.

She is right he had to admit. He would not.

Dawn is still in school, not doing the best, but at least she is still passing. Willow and Tara help her with homework most afternoon’s at the Magic Box while Xander is still at work.

Xander and Spike take turns watching Dawn, although they both practically live at the Summer’s home. Spike has a room in the basement, and the house, for his benefit, is sun proofed most of the time. When Spike is watching Dawn, Xander goes out. He walks around town, remembering easier days, fun times, and friendships that were meant to last forever.

Tonight is Spike’s night with Dawn and Xander’s night of freedom…for the most part.

“Hey Buff,” Xander says, sitting down next to his friend’s headstone. He carefully removes the old, dead flowers he had brought the night before and lays down the fresh ones.

“Dawn is doing well. She got a B on her math test. All Willow’s doing, not mine. I was never good at math. Remember? If it hadn’t been for Willow…well, you know.

“Willow and Tara are doing well. They're talking to Anya about taking over the Magic Box. I guess Anya wants to leave Sunnydale. I can’t blame her, not really.

“Giles will be coming back soon. He called the other day. He misses you. We all miss you.”

Of all the things he tells her, he never says a word about Spike. Xander knows Spike comes on his own time.





Part Three

Spike listens from the shadows, just as he does every night Xander comes to sit at the Slayer’s grave. The sadness, the grief, the heartache pours off the boy in waves, crashing over Spike as he stands there, taking it all in. The urge to revel in it, to soak it in as any decent vampire would, overwhelms him and, just for a moment, he does just that. A devious smile starts to curl the ends of his mouth before he cuts it off, turning his attention back to Xander, back to the grave of the Slayer.

He hurts for the boy, cares about him…in his own way. But, Spike knows better. He knows better then to say anything; he knows better than to question Xander about anything they do behind closed doors.

Spike still is not sure what it was they were doing exactly, but he did not care, not right then, not when he could still feel himself buried inside the boy, the heat set to burn him to ash. Even if they never say anything to each other, even if they never hold each other afterwards, it still means something to him, to them. For those hot, lust-filled moments, it means something.

Spike turns to leave as he watches a tear slip from Xander’s eye. He can't watch that and not go to him. However, the boy would not like that, would not like that he would go to him, try to comfort him. Comfort, it seems, is not what Xander is after. And quite frankly, neither is Spike.

Yeah, he misses the Slayer on occasion, misses the fights, the bickering, and the challenge of someone that was equal to him. At one time he had thought he had fallen for her, been in love, or something like that. But not now. Now all that is left is respect. How can he not respect her? She had given up her life for Dawn, who really is not her sister, but is as good as real. No matter how many mistakes the Slayer had ever made throughout her short years that was not one of them…and never would be in his eyes.

Spike wants to turn around, go see if Xander has left so he can say his piece, but that will have to wait until later. It is about time for Xander to get him for patrol.





Part Four

Dawn races back up to her room, hopping in bed just as Spike walks through the front door. She knows he can hear her heart racing as she tries to lay motionless in her bed. She can almost see the smirk that would soon spread across his face as he looked up towards her room and her looking down at him.

Quickly, Spike moves through the house that has now become so familiar to him. He hangs his duster on the banister by the stairs and heads into the kitchen to fix a bag of blood. He heats it and drinks it quickly before heading out the back door to have a quick smoke.

That is how Xander finds him. Sitting on the back porch, smoking a cigarette. Something about that scene, no matter how many times he walks in on it, just goes straight to Xander’s groin and he has to stop mid-stride to get himself under control.

Finally, he feels he can walk up to Spike without having to untuck his shirt. Nothing is said; just a short nod of the head and Spike is tossing the cigarette away, walking into the house to grab his duster. Moments later, he's back outside, duster on, stake in hand, and another cigarette hanging from his mouth.

Dawn races out of bed as she hears the back door click closed. She cannot help the giggle that escapes her as she watches the two men, or one man and vampire, in her life walk off into the night. Just before they reach the end of the yard, Spike looks up at her and smirks. She waves, knowing he sees her and goes back to bed.

Spike knows, I know, so why doesn’t Xander? Dawn wonders. Yawning, she rolls over in bed, pulling the covers up and falls to sleep, hoping that tonight is the night that they finally get over whatever it is holding them back and just be a couple, finally.





Part Five


“Did Dawn get to bed?” Xander asks, walking into one of the older cemeteries.

“Yeah,” Spike says. “Fought like always. Didn’t want to go.”

Xander nods, knowing just how adamantly Dawn can be about not going to bed. He fought with her on the nights he watched her. Xander feels a small twinge of guilt at leaving Dawn alone tonight. It's happening more often.

Idly, Xander wonders why he keeps coming back to Spike, always asking for more, always a bit thrilled and confused when it is given. Spike is an addiction, for sure. The handsome, chiseled face, that milky white skin that just begs to be bruised by needy fingers, those clear, crystal blue eyes that speak volumes without ever blinking.

A shiver catches Xander off guard.

“Alright, mate?” Spike asks, looking at Xander from the corner of his eye. Something is wrong with the boy tonight. No, wrong is not it…maybe off. Yes, something is off with Xander tonight.

“I’m fine,” Xander says, lying. The urge to pull Spike to the ground and pound into him is overwhelming. “Spike, I-“ Xander says, trying to say something that even he does not understand yet.

“Shh, Pet,” Spike says, setting one long cool finger on Xander’s lips. For the first time, Spike pulls Xander to him, barely brushing their lips together before Xander is pulling and reaching for more. Their first kiss, ever, is greedy. Tongues battle for dominance before finding a rhythm.

Xander can taste the smoke on Spike’s lips; along with a coppery taste, he assumes is blood, but there is more. A taste that is purely and uniquely Spike’s. Musk and cool recesses, nighttime, and just the barest hint of danger.

They make their way to the cool soft earth without realizing it. They are discovering each other anew. Learning new tastes and feeling new sensations. Clothes are hastily removed. They both want the contact of flesh on flesh, of hot on cool.

Spike lay spread under Xander, grinding himself up and into the boy, wanting more, the promise of a night to remember. There is more emotion in this coming together then they have ever shown before. He watches with heavy lidded eyes as Xander kneels up, pumping himself, and spreads the pre-cum that is leaking from his head onto his shaft. Spike opens his legs, placing them on either side of Xander’s legs and waits, his eyes flicking from the deep blue of arousal to the yellow of his demon.

Spike does not have long to wait as Xander thrusts, once, twice, three times and he is fully sheathed within Spike. White-hot lights of pain burst in front of Spike’s eyes as he howls. The pain is mixed with pleasure.

Xander cannot help the loud, long moan that escapes him when he finally enters Spike. The cool inside of the vampire is a stark contrast to the burning heat of his cock. Only when he hears Spike’s howl of pain does Xander realize what he has done. His eyes open wide in horror.

“Spike, oh God, Spike I didn’t mean…,” Xander tries to say.

“Don’t you bloody stop,” Spike says through gritted teeth as he pulls Xander down into a kiss. Spike bucks up once, trying to get Xander to move. It takes a bit more persuasion, but finally, Xander is moving hard and fast in Spike.

“Fuck Spike!” Xander cries. He is close to the edge, looking down over it into a black abyss and all he wants to do is fall.

“Come for me,” Spike growls into Xander’s mouth. Sliding one of his hands down to his own erection, Spike pulls roughly.

They both come hard, moaning and crying out, one coating a cool channel with hot semen and the other coating a heated chest with cool liquid.




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