Spoilers: Through beginning season 5 to be on the safe side..
Summary: Spike, Xander, and a dirty little secret.
Notes: First-time, some angst, some schmoop; written for the 'Chose Your Author' Ficathon
Request: Spike/Xander, NC17, angst, and a happy ending.
Feedback: It’s ALL about the feedback (and naked Spike)! Don’t make me beg, it’s not pretty.
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters, just borrowing them for awhile. Everything belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Kuzui Enterprises, Grr Argh, the WB, UPN and whomever else they really belong to, although I wouldn’t mind having a Spike of my own. Who would? The story is mine, though.
Thanks: To Tammy, for the most excellent beta!
Written: October 20, 2004
Prologue - Present
“Harder,” Xander grunted. “God, Spike, please, harder!”
Spike tightened his grip on Xander’s hips and slammed into him. He could feel the tremors coursing through his lover’s body as he approached orgasm, saw his fingers curl into the sheet until he’d nearly pulled it off the mattress.
Xander tore one hand away from the sheet and reached behind him to clutch at Spike’s ass. “Oh, yes, Spike, yes....”
Spike loved the way Xander responded to his touch. So uninhibited and wanton. Sometimes Spike could get a reaction out of the other man with just a sultry look that often sent Xander scurrying for the bed, shedding clothes as he went. When Spike was buried deep inside Xander, he never had to wonder how the other man felt about him.
“God, Spike, please!”
“Please what, luv?”
“Fuck.... Oh, god! Fuck me. Please. I’m so close. Just....”
Spike angled his hips as he thrust and Xander’s words were cut off by a loud scream of pleasure. Xander’s muscles contracted around Spike as he came, holding him tight. As soon as Xander relaxed, Spike began moving again, his own orgasm not far behind. The sight of his lover coming never failed to push him to the edge. His hips jerked and his muscles clenched, and then he filled Xander with his release.
Arms shaking, Spike lowered himself onto Xander’s back and kissed his shoulder. “Love you, Xan,” he whispered.
“Ungh. Love you, too, Spike,” Xander responded breathlessly.
Spike laughed and carefully rolled off Xander’s back, pulling the other man onto his chest. Xander snuggled into him, wrapping himself around Spike, and Spike ran his hand soothingly up and down Xander’s back.
Just when Spike thought Xander might have drifted off to sleep, his heart rate sped up. Xander pushed himself off Spike and gazed down at him with a sleepy, sated smile. “Love you,” he said, and then kissed Spike. He rolled away and sat up, cleaned himself off with a wet rag they’d placed beside the bed, and then began to dress.
“Stay,” Spike whispered, as he had nearly every night for the past month.
“I can’t,” Xander replied softly. “I have to work tomorrow.”
Xander finished dressing, gave Spike a lingering goodbye kiss, and then left. Spike sadly watched Xander climb the ladder to the upper level of his crypt and listened to the door shut behind him, as he had nearly every night for the past month.
Ever since the night Xander had tied Spike to the ratty lounge chair in the basement, Spike had entertained himself with revenge fantasies. They had started out innocently enough—as innocent as revenge fantasies get, anyway—just showing Xander what it felt like to be at Spike’s mercy; tied to the chair, the ropes pulled tight enough to chafe.
One day, the fantasies started to change. First, Xander was tied to the chair shirtless, then just wearing boxers and socks, and finally, naked. Then came the day Spike’s fantasy shifted even further, and Xander was tied naked and spreadeagled to the bed. For the first time since he’d started having his ‘revenge’ fantasies, Spike got off on it in a more...physical...manner.
After that, Spike was annoyed with himself—he hated Xander bloody Harris—and refused to let himself enjoy that particular fantasy for two weeks, by which time he almost felt like he was going through withdrawal. The next time he closed his eyes and allowed himself, the image of Xander spread out naked on his bed, skin flushed a dusky rose and covered with a fine sheen of perspiration, looking up at him through half-closed eyes, filled Spike’s mind.
“Please,” imaginary Xander moaned, and had Spike scrabbling to get his jeans unbuttoned before he came in them.
He’d been having x-rated versions of his so-called ‘revenge’ fantasy for several months when he first noticed that a recently single Xander was paying him more attention than was usual. Each time he looked up and caught Xander staring at him, the boy would immediately duck his head and return to reading whatever book had been placed in front of him that night.
The first time he caught a whiff of Xander’s arousal, it fueled Spike’s fantasies for the next week; fantasies in which Xander begged him to do dirty, nasty things to him. As Spike was to find out, the fantasies couldn’t hold a candle to the reality.
About five weeks after he first noticed Xander’s strange behavior, the boy stopped by his crypt late one night. He smelled of nervous sweat, arousal, and booze.
“Harris,” Spike drawled when his door was slowly pushed open. Even without his vampire senses he’d have been able to tell it wasn’t the Slayer by the way his door didn’t slam into the wall and shake on its hinges.
They stared at each other in silence until Xander dropped his eyes and nervously wiped sweaty palms on his pants.
“You wanted something?” Spike asked.
Xander, oozing fear and arousal in equal measures, mumbled a response. Spike froze. He couldn’t have heard what he thought he’d just heard. When he could manage it, he said, “You want me to what, now?”
Xander’s breaths were labored, and Spike was afraid he might start to hyperventilate. He finally got out, “I want you to fuck me.”
The fact that he’d been fantasizing about just that occurrence made Spike wonder if he was hearing things. He pinched himself, hard, just to be sure. It bloody hurt! He swore and rubbed the spot. Reassured that this was really happening, Spike’s first impulse was to take Xander up on the offer; throw the boy over his shoulder and carry him down to the bed where he could strip him and take everything he’d been fantasizing about.
Only the fact that Xander actually asking Spike to fuck him was so far outside the realm of the possible, much less the probable, kept him from grabbing the boy up and doing just that. Instead he growled, “You’re drunk.”
“Well, yeah!” Xander snorted drunkenly. “Couldn’t do it sober,” he admitted with a candor borne of copious amounts of alcohol. “Figured you’d say ‘no’.” His eyes skittered around the crypt before ending up somewhere around Spike’s chest. “Or laugh. Needed some liquid courage.”
Spike briefly wondered whether this was a trap, then discarded the notion since no one but him knew about his fantasy. Plus, Xander looked like hell.
“A lot of liquid courage. I don’t feel so good,” Xander added as he wobbled.
Still, he wasn’t going to fuck a drunken Xander who might change his mind once the alcohol was out of his system, and immediately send the Slayer to stake him. But Spike couldn’t resist the temptation completely. “Ask me when you’re sober,” he said casually.
Xander’s eyes darted up to meet Spike’s. His breathing, which had slowed, sped up again. “Don’t think I can,” he said, his voice shaky. “Can barely do it now.”
“Then we’ve got nothin’ to talk about,” Spike declared, “‘cause I’m not takin’ the chance you’ll change your mind once you’re not being propped up by the booze.”
Xander took on a greenish tinge and rubbed his stomach. “I think I’m gonna puke.”
“Not here, you’re not!” Spike grabbed his duster. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”
Spike figured Xander wouldn’t return once his liquid courage wore off, but he’d never know if the boy didn’t make it safely home. Xander meekly followed Spike out the door and was silent during the entire walk to his apartment, except for intermittent moans when he’d stop and bend over, hands on his knees, taking deep breaths of air in an attempt to keep the nausea down. Outside Xander’s apartment Spike thought Xander looked like he wanted to say something. When he didn’t speak, Spike prompted, “Got your keys?”
Xander nodded, then slowly drew the key chain out of his pocket. When Xander didn’t make any further moves, Spike sighed, took the keys from him, and unlocked the door. He opened the door and pushed Xander inside, then placed the keys back in his hand. Xander still hadn’t moved of his own free will, just stood there with a beaten expression on his face. Spike took pity on him—selfishly, he was still evil, after all.
He placed his finger beneath Xander’s chin and lifted his face. “You come back tomorrow, sober, and ask me again.... I won’t say ‘no’.” Spike left before he could see Xander’s reaction, but heard the boy’s heart rate speed up before he heard the door click shut.
Spike was heating a mug of blood late the next afternoon when Xander showed up. He was pale, his eyes red-rimmed, and he smelled once more of nervous sweat. But his hair was still damp and he smelled of soap, so Spike knew the nervous sweat was fresh. He was surprised that Xander had returned, but determined not to show it.
“Harris,” he greeted the boy as he took the mug out of the microwave, letting his eyes roam over Xander’s body. Xander blushed, and Spike’s jeans grew tight.
Xander swallowed hard. “Spike.”
Spike sipped the blood, then sauntered over to his chair, adding an extra sway to his hips for Xander’s benefit. He heard Xander’s heart pound faster and smiled to himself as he dropped into the chair. When he’d finished the blood, Xander still hadn’t moved or spoken, so Spike asked, “You need somethin’?”
Xander’s breath hitched, and Spike felt a surge of relief, accompanied by a tickle of desire. He’d been worried that he might’ve given too much away by his assurance to Xander the night before.
“You said,” Xander began, then had to clear his throat. “You said if I came back...sober...you’d...we’d....”
“How do you expect to do it if you can’t even say it?” Spike asked gently, his eyes closed as he leaned his head against the chair back.
“Fuck,” Xander said through gritted teeth, and Spike didn’t know if he was finishing his thought or swearing.
Spike leaned over the arm of the chair and set the empty mug on the floor. He looked back at Xander. “C’mere.”
Xander scuffed his feet as he slowly moved around to the front of the chair.
“Tell me what you want,” Spike said.
Xander closed his eyes, bit the inside of his lip, then said softly, “I want you to fuck me.”
Spike could barely hear him. “Open your eyes, and say it again,” he commanded.
Xander’s eyes shot open and Spike made sure he saw that Spike had his hand splayed over his cotton-covered chest, fingers absently playing with a nipple. Xander’s mouth dropped open, and then he said, “I want you to fuck me.”
Spike trailed his fingers over his belly to the waistband of his jeans where he hooked his thumb and let his fingers rest on the hardness beneath the denim. As he’d hoped, Xander’s eyes followed the path his fingers took, locking on the evidence of his arousal. “Again.”
Xander moaned. “I want you to fuck me,” he said quickly between heaving breaths.
Spike closed his fingers around his cock, unable to hide his reaction to Xander’s words, his soft moan. He reached out and placed his other palm over the erection tenting Xander’s pants. Xander made a lovely sound. He clenched his fists at his sides, and his head fell back.
“Undo your pants,” Spike ordered softly.
Xander’s head came up and his hands moved swiftly to the button at his waistband, where nerveless fingers fumbled with the button and zipper. He pulled his pants open to reveal tented smiley face boxers with a growing wet spot. Spike rubbed his finger over the wet spot, teasing the tip of Xander’s dick, and then brought his finger to his mouth.
Xander whimpered. It was all Spike could do to not throw the boy down and take him right there. “Can you walk?” he asked.
“Noooo,” Xander whined, which made Spike grin. He looked up into Xander’s flushed face, then stood, his body brushing against Xander’s, who stood his ground.
“Downstairs,” Spike said. “There’s a bed.” He studied Xander’s face for his reaction. He figured if Xander was going to bail, it would be now. “I’ll go first. Catch you if you fall.”
He turned away and headed to the ladder before he did anything stupid, like cup Xander’s face and kiss him. The boy had asked to be fucked, not treated like spun glass. Despite his words to the contrary, Xander made it down the ladder with no problem. As soon as his feet touched the ground, Spike said brusquely, “Lose your kit.”
“Take your clothes off,” Spike rephrased.
“Oh,” Xander said, and blushed again. He slid his shirt off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. He reached for the hem of his t-shirt. “You, too,” he said, and then pulled the t-shirt over his head, covering his flaming face.
Spike stared at Xander—tan from being out in the sun, arms and chest developed from months of construction work. When Xander didn’t continue undressing, Spike looked at his face and saw that Xander was staring back at him hungrily, expectantly.
“Pushy bottom,” Spike muttered without heat, and then pulled off his own t-shirt.
Xander’s eyes darkened, and then he stumbled forward, his hands hot on Spike as he explored the recently bared flesh. Of its own volition, Spike’s hand came up and cupped Xander’s cheek, and then he leaned in and kissed him. Xander groaned against Spike’s lips as Spike deepened the kiss, his fingers curled and nails dug into Spike’s chest.
Spike moved his hips and bumped their groins together. Xander’s hand moved up to Spike’s shoulder and he parted his lips as he pressed back. With a growl, Spike pushed Xander to the bed and toppled him onto it, following him down.
Xander reached for him, pulling Spike into a hot kiss as Spike ground their groins together. Xander lifted his hips and Spike deepened the kiss. Spike reached between them and frantically tore at Xander’s pants and boxers, and then his own jeans, pushing at them until they were down to their knees and hot, hard flesh was pressed against cool.
Xander keened and his back arched, his head went back as his knees tightened against Spike, and he lifted his hips, crushing them closer. Spike pushed against him, slick cocks gliding and sliding over each other.
“Spike,” Xander breathed just before his body stiffened and he came, warm fluid splashing between them.
The feel of Xander’s prick pulsing against his own on top of the sound of his name on Xander’s lips was more than Spike could take. “Hell...Xander,” he groaned, and then emptied himself on Xander’s belly.
“Fuck,” Xander groaned moments later. “Sorry.”
“‘Bout what?” Spike asked, barely recovered himself.
“I didn’t mean to....” He waved his hand at their joined bellies.
“Thought that was the point,” Spike responded.
“Yeah, but I wanted you to....” He looked away, embarrassed.
Spike grinned. “Doesn’t mean we can’t still....” He raised an eyebrow.
Xander flushed. “Oh. O-okay.”
Spike found an old t-shirt and wiped Xander off, then himself. He tossed the rag away and then finished undressing them both, pushing Xander’s hands away when he attempted to help. Xander’s wide eyes followed every move he made. When they were both naked, Spike laid back down beside Xander, unable to resist the urge to taste Xander’s skin.
He started with Xander’s neck, sniffing the scent of him and licking at the sweat from their exertions. Xander moved his hands as if he didn’t know what to do with them, and one finally fell heavily on Spike’s shoulder, the other light against the back of his head as Xander tilted his own head back to open up his neck for Spike’s exploration.
Spike hummed against Xander’s neck and sucked on it, and Xander moaned, his fingers digging into Spike’s flesh. Spike moved down Xander’s body, kissing a path to a nipple, to which he gave his undivided attention, licking and suckling and biting while Xander writhed beneath him and made little mewling sounds, before he moved his attention to the other, treating it to the same.
Spike moved lower, licked and sucked at Xander’s belly, tasting traces of the boy’s semen, then even lower to taste the soft flesh between thigh and groin, to inhale the musky scent of him. Xander’s legs dropped open and his fingers scrabbled in Spike’s hair.
“Spike,” he groaned. “Christ, I can’t believe...!”
Spike rubbed his cheek against Xander’s swollen cock.
“Please,” Xander begged.
The sound reminded Spike of his fantasies. He looked up at Xander as he dragged his tongue up the boy’s dick. Xander made an undecipherable noise deep in his throat. Spike sucked on his finger, then licked Xander again, at the same time he placed the tip of his finger at Xander’s entrance. He took the head of Xander’s cock into his mouth and pushed his finger in, then froze.
He lifted his head and stared up at Xander, letting the boy’s cock fall from his mouth with a wet ‘plop’. Xander blushed a deep crimson.
“What’s this?” Spike asked, wiggling his finger as he pushed it in further, meeting little resistance.
Xander opened his mouth to answer, groaned, and then said, “Chip.”
“Chip?” Spike asked, confused, as he continued to work his finger in Xander’s lubricated ass.
“Wanted...god! Wanted to be...prepared.... Fuck, Spike!”
“You got yourself all ready for me?” Spike asked, confused. “Didn’t think I’d do it right?”
“D-didn’t want the chip to go off,” Xander gasped as Spike pushed a second finger inside him.
“You thought about the chip?” Spike found it difficult to imagine the nervous boy who’d entered his crypt having the forethought to prepare himself for Spike’s benefit. The knowledge that Xander had thought about Spike’s welfare gave Spike a warm fuzzy feeling, but he was more comfortable with the lusty feelings, so he rubbed his fingers over Xander’s prostate and sniffed deeply of the arousal pouring off the boy in waves.
“Y-yes,” Xander groaned.
“How many fingers did you use?” Spike asked as he inserted a third.
Xander’s flush deepened. “F-four,” he got out, his hand reaching for his cock as Spike brushed his prostate once more. “A-and a plug.”
“Oh, hell!” Spike swore. He pulled his fingers out and got to his knees between Xander’s legs. He slapped Xander’s hand away from his cock and cursorily slicked himself with the lube that had transferred from Xander’s ass to his fingers while they were buried deep inside him. Spike placed his cock at Xander’s entrance, and then looked up at him.
“Gonna fuck you now,” he declared.
Xander’s eyes rolled back.
“Ready?” Spike asked. Though he was nearly too far gone to do anything about it if Xander wasn’t ready, self-preservation made him ask.
“Yessss,” Xander hissed. “Please, Spike.”
Any remaining patience he may have had fled, and Spike pushed, slowly, until his head breached Xander’s tight hole. “Relax,” he whispered as Xander automatically tensed. He rubbed Xander’s belly, then pulled on his cock to divert Xander’s attention from the slight pain he was probably experiencing despite his preparation.
“I’m all right,” Xander gasped. He wrapped his legs around Spike and lifted his hips, and suddenly Spike slid all the way in. Both men gasped.
“Bloody...! Are you okay?” Spike asked worriedly, even though the chip hadn’t fired.
“Holy moly,” Xander said softly, almost reverently. He stared at Spike with wide eyes. “You’re.... I didn’t....” A tear slid from one eye and rolled down his temple.
“Xander?” Spike asked anxiously.
“Can you move?” Xander asked breathlessly.
“No! Just...move, inside me,” Xander explained, and Spike briefly wondered if the blush painting the boy’s skin was now permanent.
“I can do that,” he said, and slowly moved his hips, gently thrusting inside Xander. Hell, Xander was so tight, even though he’d been thoroughly stretched in preparation for this, and his heat seared Spike. He was looking at Spike with such an expression of...wonder on his face. Spike lowered himself onto Xander. “You all right?” he whispered.
“Amazing,” Xander whispered back, and then turned his face so that their lips brushed. “I didn’t realize that it would be so...amazing.” He smiled shyly.
Spike groaned. The last cogent thought he had before he captured Xander’s lips was that his fantasy had just been shot to hell. He reached back with one hand and pulled Xander’s thigh forward as they kissed, pumping harder and faster while Xander’s hands scrabbled at his neck and back. All too soon he felt his orgasm rushing through him.
“Oh, hell, Xander, gonna....”
Xander grinned between moans and whimpers. “You first this time,” he said.
“I...don’t...fucking...think so.” Spike let go of Xander’s leg and reached between them. Xander’s eyes grew big when Spike grasped him, his mouth opened in an ‘O’ of surprise as Spike stripped him, and then he was biting his bottom lip as he came.
“Ah, fuck!” Spike screamed as Xander tightened around him, and then he buried his face in Xander’s neck, struggling to keep the demon from being overwhelmed by the sound of Xander’s blood pounding through his body as he shot inside him.
Spike rested on Xander until the boy’s speeding heart rate slowed, and his ragged breaths evened out. He ran a soothing hand down Xander’s side. “You all right?”
Xander heaved a shuddering sigh. “Yeah. Thanks.”
Spike couldn’t resist kissing Xander’s neck. “Anytime,” he replied softly. Because Xander looked like he needed it, and because he wanted it, Spike said, “Relax,” and rolled to his side, taking Xander with him and holding the boy in his arms.
Xander leaned into him, but didn’t relax. “Is it always like that?” he asked.
Several answers ran through his mind, but Spike finally settled on the truth. “Not for me.”
Xander stilled as he pondered Spike’s words. “Really?” he asked. “So, it’s all downhill from here?”
“Well,” Spike teased, “what did you expect? You started with the best.”
Xander issued a nervous chuckle. “So I should have set my sights a little lower?” he asked.
“Never,” Spike said. “Never set your sights low, luv.” Spike rubbed Xander’s back until he felt the boy relax against him. “Why me?” he asked, curiosity burning in his gut.
Xander tensed, and Spike could sense his unease, heart skipping, breath hitching, but he continued the soothing motion of his hand on Xander’s back. “I wanted the best,” he whispered, and Spike kept rubbing his back until Xander fell asleep.
Spike woke much later to Xander pulling away from him. He watched in silence as Xander dressed in a near darkness broken only by the soft illumination of a few candles. From his breathing and heart rate, Spike could tell that Xander knew he was being watched, but he finished dressing and walked across to the ladder without looking at Spike.
One foot on the bottom rung, Xander paused and his heart rate started pounding. He glanced back over his shoulder at Spike, and then turned and climbed the ladder. Spike listened until he could no longer hear Xander’s heartbeat.
Three days later Spike and Xander were paired on patrol. Buffy had run into a pair of demons that had a sword in their possession. She managed to kill one of the demons and retrieve the sword, but the other had escaped. Giles had identified the sword as a powerful magical artifact. To make sure that it didn’t possess any additional magical items it could use against them, they’d been dispatched to find and kill the remaining demon. If they were able, they were to also get a lead on why the demons had come to Sunnydale and where they’d been staying so they could search their lair.
The meeting at the Magic Box was the first time Spike had seen Xander since the night they’d had sex. Good sex. Bloody amazing sex. Not that Spike had given it a moment’s thought since then.
Spike sauntered into the Magic Box, glad he was a vampire when he caught sight of Xander’s dark head bent over the book Giles was showing him. An image of the same head bent as Xander knelt before him filled Spike’s mind and he nearly stumbled down the stairs.
“Ah, Spike, you’re here,” Giles said. “Let me get the others so we can get started.”
As soon as Giles spoke his name Xander had reacted. He’d kept his head bent, but his heart had started racing and Spike could smell a frisson of fear tinged with arousal. Giles disappeared into the back room, leaving Spike alone with Xander, who continued to study the picture in the book as if his life depended on it.
Spike decided to push it, and stepped up to Xander’s side. “That the bugger we’re looking for?” he asked as he placed one hand on the back of Xander’s chair, the other flat on the table, and leaned over to look at the picture. Xander’s heart nearly exploded out of his chest, but he was saved from Spike’s nefarious intentions by the reappearance of Giles, followed by Buffy, Riley, Willow, and Tara.
Spike straightened and moved away from Xander. He leaned against the counter as the others seated themselves around the table, and rested his elbows on the top. Spike gave only a small portion of his attention to Giles as the Watcher explained how to kill the demon, the majority of his senses focused on Xander, whose heart was still racing even though Spike was no longer standing beside him, and who was giving off a stronger, tantalizing scent of arousal.
Giles warned them several times that the demon could possess an item of powerful magic and urged them to contact the others if they found it, shooting a meaningful look at Buffy and Riley, and then at Spike, who gave the obligatory eye roll accompanied by the two-fingered salute. Then Giles divided them up into three groups, pairing Buffy with Riley, naturally, himself with the two witches, and Spike with Xander, with an off-hand, “Spike, you’ll take Xander.”
For a brief moment Spike wondered if Xander had orchestrated the pairings, but the shocked eyes that met his said ‘no’. Spike couldn’t refrain from twisting the knife just a little, so he looked Xander over and drawled, “Yeah, I’ll take him.”
Xander blushed and his heart pounded furiously, but no one except Spike noticed his distress as everyone armed themselves for the upcoming battle. Giles handed out walkie-talkies and they all set out, each group heading off in different directions.
Xander was silent as they walked through the cemetery, but his heart was beating rapidly and he was giving off enough delicious scents to attract every demon in Sunnydale. Spike found himself paying less attention to hunting the demon they were supposed to be searching for and becoming more and more focused on Xander. It finally became too much, and he turned on Xander. “Just bloody say it!”
Xander jumped and looked guilty. “S-say what?”
“You bloody well know what,” Spike declared. “Can smell it, you know.”
“S-smell what?” Xander asked nervously, all wide-eyed and trembling.
“The want,” Spike snarled. “The desire. The need.” He stopped walking, closed his eyes and tipped his head back, and then inhaled deeply. “Like bloody ambrosia, it is,” he murmured, then locked eyes with Xander. “So just. Bloody. Ask.”
Xander swallowed hard. And then again. “C-can we do it again?” he finally asked.
Spike’s expression turned feral as he stepped into Xander’s personal space. “Do what?” he asked softly as he lowered his head and sniffed Xander.
Xander moaned. “F-f—, oh, fuck!” he cried.
“Yeah,” Spike whispered, “we could....”
“No!” Xander squeaked. “I-I mean, demon!” He pointed behind Spike.
Spike turned and saw the demon they‘d been hunting for—if they’d actually been searching—lumbering towards them, beady eyes glittering, snout raised in the air. He gave Xander a disgusted look and sighed. “You really are a bloody demon magnet,” he complained. “Stay here.”
Spike, adrenaline already flowing and wanting to get back to Xander as quickly as he could, turned to the demon already in game face. “Your timing sucks,” he snarled, raised his axe, and charged the demon with a roar.
Motivated, Spike made short work of the demon that, though strong, didn’t stand a chance against Spike’s incentive. Once the demon was down, hamstrung, Spike severed its head and then checked its pockets for any magical items for Giles, and cash or anything that could be pawned for himself. He came up empty.
Done, he cleaned his axe off on a clean spot on the demon’s trousers, stood, and turned back to Xander who was staring wide-eyed at him. The boy’s heart rate jumped and he took a step back as he held out the walkie-talkie. “Buffy’s on her way,” he announced.
Spike growled. “How long?”
“Th-th-they’re over at the docks,” Xander got out.
“Plenty of time,” Spike decided as he looked Xander over while walking towards him.
“F-for what?” Xander squeaked.
Spike placed his palm flat against Xander’s chest and backed him up against the nearest crypt. Xander was making soft noises in his throat that only served to fuel Spike’s desire for the boy. As soon as Xander’s back hit the side of the crypt, Spike dropped his axe. He fisted his fingers in Xander’s t-shirt and leaned in to kiss him. His other hand cupped Xander’s groin.
Xander mewled, whimpered, and then dropped the walkie-talkie. He wrapped his arms around Spike and parted his lips to Spike’s questing tongue as he pushed into Spike’s hand. Spike, whose preternatural senses meant he remembered exactly how Xander looked, smelled, tasted, sounded, and felt around him, was eager, nearly desperate, to experience it all again.
He placed open-mouthed kisses along Xander’s jaw and down his neck, tasting him. He lowered his head and raised Xander’s t-shirt to expose his chest, then began to nibble on a nipple while he continued to rub his palm over Xander’s prick.
“Fuck, Spike,” Xander groaned.
“Not sure we have time for that,” Spike teased, and then moved down Xander’s torso, licking and sucking as nimble fingers made short work of button and zip.
“Spike!” Xander hissed.
Spike ignored him, concentrating on shoving Xander’s jeans and boxers down until a hard, hot column of flesh fell into his waiting hand. Xander moaned, long, low, and deep. Spike ran his hand up the hard length.
Xander’s scent filled his nostrils and his demon clamored for him to take the boy, claim him. Spike forced it down, then closed his mouth over the head of Xander’s cock. Xander buried his hands in Spike’s hair and curled them into his scalp. Spike moaned as he took Xander in deeper, sucking hard as his tongue worked the underside, his hands gripping Xander’s ass. Xander gasped.
“Xander,” he heard Buffy’s voice over the walkie-talkie, and then she called out from a distance, “Xander?”
“Shit,” Xander rasped. Spike kept sucking. “Spike! Buffy’s coming!”
Spike knew Xander’d be coming first, so he continued to work the boy’s cock until Xander was panting for air and desperately pumping his hips. Spike loosened his hold on Xander’s ass and allowed the boy to fuck his mouth. He relaxed his throat and took Xander in deep, then swallowed around him.
“Oh, fuck,” Xander groaned. His cock throbbed, and then he shot his load down Spike’s throat.
Spike pulled back so Xander’s seed landed on his tongue. When the stream of ejaculate stopped, Spike suckled softly, milking Xander dry. With a soft moan, Xander slumped over him. Spike reluctantly let the softening cock fall from his mouth and pushed Xander mostly upright. He stood and kissed Xander, then pulled back and looked down into dazed eyed.
He’d tuned out Buffy’s calls, but he knew she was getting closer. Spike pulled Xander’s pants and boxers up, whispered, “Do your zip,” and then grabbed his axe and moved to stand over the demon. Buffy exploded into the clearing, saw Spike beside the incapacitated demon, and skidded to a halt.
“Is it dead?” she asked.
“‘Course it’s dead,” Spike snarked.
“Where’s Xander?” Buffy asked worriedly. “He didn’t answer my calls.”
Spike turned his eyes to where Xander was standing a few steps a way from the crypt, swaying unsteadily, his pants done up, looking ruffled with his shirt half untucked. The walkie talkie was clutched tightly in one hand, a stunned expression on his face.
“Xander, what happened?” Buffy rushed over to him.
“Just had the wind knocked out of him,” Spike told her. He managed to keep his voice casual and unconcerned even as hot eyes raked Xander’s body.
“You were supposed to take care of him,” she ground out as she patted Xander down for injuries.
Spike smirked at Xander over Buffy’s head. “Did,” he softly replied.
Riley finally caught up with Buffy. He took in the dead demon, the vampire casually lighting a cigarette, and Buffy talking softly to Xander, then released his tension and bent over to catch his breath.
“Riley, can you call Giles and tell him the demon’s dead?” Buffy asked.
“Sure,” Riley gasped.
“Any magical items?” she asked Spike, who shook his head.
“Did you find out where they were staying?”
“No,” Spike said, with a tiny pang of guilt that he’d forgotten that. “Wasn’t much of a talker,” he said.
“Xan?” Buffy asked.
“Nothing. Just something caught in my throat,” he said, and faked a cough to clear his throat.
“Riley, help me get Xander back to the Magic Box so we can make sure he’s okay.”
“I’m fine, Buffy,” Xander protested.
“You’re getting checked out,” Buffy said firmly as they dragged Xander away.
“You’re welcome!” Spike called after them, but Buffy and Riley both ignored him. He stomped the cigarette butt out angrily and then glanced up to see Xander looking back at him pleadingly. What did the boy expect him to do?
He shrugged helplessly, which grated, then affected a leer, sticking the tip of his tongue out as he cupped his erection. Xander blinked, licked his lips. Spike groaned.
An hour later, Spike was pacing the crypt. He’d been sure Xander was going to show up, but now he wasn’t so confident. How long could they have kept him at the Magic Box, anyway? He felt like a bloody ponce, waiting for Xander to show up like some love—, lust-struck girl.
Spike angrily decided that he needed to go out and kill something. Just as he reached for his duster, he heard the hammering of Xander’s heartbeat approaching. Before Xander had the door pushed all the way open, Spike grabbed him by the jacket and pulled him inside.
“Uh, hi, Spike,” Xander squeaked as Spike pushed him back against the wall.
“Where have you been?” Spike snarled.
Xander swallowed hard. “After they checked me over for bumps and bruises, Buffy made Riley drive me back to my apartment.”
“How’d you get here?” Spike asked as he ground his body against Xander’s.
“Drove,” Xander rasped, and then there was no more talking.
Spike claimed Xander’s lips and hungrily devoured them. Xander’s hands fumbled with Spike’s t-shirt and pulled it up, his hands hot against Spike’s skin. Now that Spike had Xander here, he wanted to touch him everywhere. He cupped Xander through his pants, then frantically pulled at Xander’s button as Xander rubbed Spike’s nipples. Harsh pants and grunts filled the air.
Spike sucked on Xander’s neck as he shoved his hand inside the boy’s boxers and wrapped his fingers around Xander’s semi-erect cock. Xander gasped and pinched Spike’s nipples.
“Touch me,” Spike growled as he stroked Xander to full hardness.
Xander shivered, than dragged one hand down Spike’s torso to tentatively touch him through his jeans. Spike moved his hips. “Harder!”
Spike pulled on Xander until the boy’s panting breaths and stiffening body alerted him to Xander’s impending orgasm, and then he stopped. Xander’s eyes shot open and he wailed a protest.
“Downstairs,” Spike commanded. He hooked a finger into one of Xander’s belt loops and dragged him towards the ladder. Spike swung onto it and started down, pulling Xander after him so that when Xander stepped onto the top rung his ass was snugged up against Spike’s groin. Xander made a strangled noise.
Spike rubbed his palm over Xander’s hip. “Hurry up, yeah?” he encouraged.
“Yeah,” Xander agreed breathlessly.
When they reached the lower level Spike pushed Xander’s jacket off his shoulders. While Xander was pulling his arms out of the sleeves, Spike pulled his own t-shirt off over his head and tossed it away. He lifted Xander’s t-shirt, and while Xander pulled it off, Spike let his fingers move over brown nipples that immediately puckered at his touch.
Xander shivered and drew Spike’s eyes upward. He took in Xander’s slack lips, glazed eyes, and beautifully mussed hair. Spike kept his eyes on Xander’s face as he trailed his fingers down Xander’s sides. Xander’s hands fell on Spike’s forearms, and he slowly slid them up Spike’s arms, thumbs digging into his biceps.
Spike’s head was spinning as Xander nearly overwhelmed his senses. There were times since the chip when he wished he could suppress the scents and sounds around him—pounding hearts and rushing blood. But he’d gladly accept the tease of warm, fresh blood he couldn’t have if he got to experience Xander.
Xander’s eyes rolled back when Spike’s fingers reached his hip bones and dug in. Spike glanced down and saw that Xander’s pants, baggy and unbuttoned, hung low on his hips and had pulled his boxers down with them. He groaned at the sight of the fine hairs that disappeared beneath the waistband of Xander’s boxers.
Spike couldn’t tear his eyes way. “Take your pants off for me,” he said.
Xander sucked in a deep breath as his hands moved slowly to his waistband. Spike watched avidly as the zipper went down, the sound exceedingly loud in his ears. Xander pushed pants and boxers down, his cock caught and then bounced free, droplets of pre-come splattering onto his belly.
When Xander stood naked before him, Spike wiped a finger through the drops. Instead of bringing the finger to his own mouth, he placed it at Xander’s lips. Their eyes once more connected, and Xander parted his lips and licked Spike’s finger, pulled it into his mouth and sucked it clean. Spike pulled his finger out with a pop and lowered his lips to Xander’s. He slid his tongue into Xander’s mouth and moaned as the taste of the boy exploded onto his tongue. Overcome, Spike attempted to devour Xander’s mouth.
Xander’s hands were back on Spike’s shoulders, fingers gripping tightly, and then sliding to the back of his head, encouraging him to deepen the kiss. Spike sucked Xander’s tongue into his mouth and Xander moaned. His hands slid down Spike’s chest, flexed over hard pecs, and then found purchase at Spike’s waist.
Before Spike realized what Xander was about, the boy had his jeans unbuttoned and unzipped, and was pushing them down his hips. His prick sprang free and Xander was immediately rubbing against him. Spike moaned, and then Xander moaned in response as the vibration of it went through him.
Spike pulled back; he needed to be inside Xander, now. “Get on the bed,” he commanded as he kicked his boots off and then rid himself of his jeans. Xander knelt on the bed, looked eagerly back over his shoulder at Spike.
“Want it like this, do you?” Spike asked as he sauntered over to the bed and climbed on . Xander’s gaze locked on Spike’s cock, hard and swaying as he walked. The heat in Xander’s eyes made him even harder.
Spike ran his hand up the back of Xander’s thigh and over his buttock, then couldn’t resist exploring between Xander’s cheeks when the boy moaned at his touch. Spike’s fingers touched something hard and unexpected. He pressed on it, and Xander groaned loudly, dropping his head.
“What’s this, then?” Spike asked as he pressed on it again. Xander’s response was unrecognizable as he ended up with his face buried in the sheets, his legs trembling. “Plannin’ on comin’ to see me, were you?” Spike manipulated the butt plug again.
“God, Spike, please!” Xander pleaded.
Spike moved between Xander’s legs. He hadn’t thought he could get more turned on, but he was wrong. The image of Xander preparing himself for Spike, and the knowledge that Xander had been wearing the plug all night, nearly undid him.
Spike slowly pulled the plug out to the accompaniment of Xander’s panting breaths. “Please, please, please.”
Spike wiped the lube off the plug and spread it over his cock, then pushed into Xander’s stretched hole without any preliminaries.
“Oh, god, yes,” Xander grunted.
Spike gripped Xander’s hips and fucked him. Hard. And Xander took it, begged for more, drove himself back onto the dick shoved up his ass. Spike’s senses were working overtime; everything was more vibrant. The sight of Xander kneeling before him, his cock sliding in and out of the boy’s ass. The sounds of Xander’s gasping, mewling, begging. The feel of Xander tight around him, so warm and willing. The scent of his arousal. The lingering taste of the boy in his mouth.
Spike leaned over him, wanting to feel Xander’s heat, and grasped his wrists. “Gonna come for me, Xander?” he whispered huskily as he continued to thrust into the boy. Xander was making delicious noises as he tried to answer. Spike licked his shoulder, the taste of salty sweat mingling with the other tastes of Xander already on his tongue.
“Wanna see you come, Xander, wanna hear you, feel....”
Xander cried out and bucked beneath him, clenched tight around him. Spike saw, and heard, and felt, and then he exploded.
Days later, or maybe merely minutes, they moved. Xander cleaned up and got dressed, his movements slow and jerky. He stood as if to leave, but lingered uncertainly. Spike could see his nervousness. He patted the bed, searching, found the plug, and then tossed it to Xander. “Don’t wanna lose that.”
Xander bobbled the plug, blushed, and shoved it into his pocket. “Can I come back?” he asked softly, quickly.
Spike felt a warmth spread through him. “On one condition.”
“W-what?” Xander’s voice trembled.
“I get to watch you prepare yourself next time.”
Xander’s voice trembled. “O-okay.”
Spike rolled to his knees and crawled to the edge of the bed. He reached into Xander’s pocket and made a huge production of getting his fingers around the plug, then slowly withdrew it. “Might better leave this here, then, yeah?”
“Right,” Xander agreed, swallowing hard and wiping his palms on his pants.
Spike grabbed Xander’s jacket and pulled him closer. “Give us a kiss goodbye, then.”
Xander stepped forward and aggressively claimed Spike’s mouth. Moments later Spike was on his back and Xander, clothes having disappeared, was rubbing up against him. Something had changed within Xander, Spike could feel it. And not just because the boy had taken the lead this time.
As they kissed, Xander shimmied forward, and then Spike was once more surrounded by the tight heat of Xander’s body as the boy settled down on him.
“Bloody...!” Spike reached for Xander’s hips, but Xander grabbed his hands and forced them to the bed beside his head.
“No, I’m doing this. I’ve been dreaming....”
Spike lifted his head and kissed Xander as the boy rode him to a second orgasm.
Spike saw Xander a couple times a week for the next month. By unspoken agreement, neither mentioned their new relationship to any of Xander’s friends. Spike remained silent because he knew Buffy would stake him, automatically assuming that he’d corrupted her White Knight. Spike sometimes wished he could take full credit for Xander’s new proclivities, if only because he was the Big Bad. Plus, when Buffy staked him he wanted to be guilty as charged. How embarrassing, to be staked by the Slayer when he hadn’t even done what she accused him of.
He wasn’t altogether sure why Xander didn’t want to say anything, waffling between certainty that Xander didn’t want to see Spike staked either, and shame that he was taking it up the ass from the evil undead.
At least Spike could take comfort in the fact that he’d turned Xander into the perfect slut. The boy would do anything Spike asked him to as long as he had Spike in his ass before the night was over. Despite his misgivings, Xander had even let Spike tie him up one night, and Spike had had to gag him to keep him from drawing unwanted attention from other denizens of the night after he screamed out his second orgasm and continued to beg Spike for more.
On occasion, Spike would have to pull Xander behind a convenient crypt or tree during patrol, before the overwhelming scent of his arousal drew every demon on the Hellmouth to them. He figured he was doing Xander a favor, saving him from some big ugly beastie by allowing him to suck Spike off while he jerked himself off.
The sex was good. Great. Okay, bloody amazing. And Xander was a quick learner and an eager participant in their romps. On occasion he showed up at the crypt, blushing and smelling delicious, a new toy hidden in a brown paper bag.
Spike was surprised the day when, about a month into their illicit affair, Xander showed up and pulled a DVD player and two DVDs out of the paper sack.
“What’s that?” Spike asked.
“DVD player,” Xander replied. “And DVDs,” he added absently, already absorbed with opening the small box and pulling out the player, cords, and instructions.
“Um, yeah, I can see that,” Spike drawled. “Why?”
Xander flushed, and replied without looking up at Spike. “I thought maybe we could watch a movie sometime, you know, do something diff—.”
“You gettin’ bored with what we usually do?” Spike snarked as the erection he’d sported in anticipation of a hot and horny boy deflated.
Xander’s heartbeat sped up. “No. I just thought....” He shrugged. “We don’t have to, if you don’t want to.” He started to box the DVD player back up, still not looking at Spike.
Spike rolled his eyes. He could tell that he’d hurt Xander’s feelings, and tried to tell himself that he shouldn’t be concerned, but, to his dismay, he’d actually grown to care for the boy in the time they’d spent together. He dropped down into his chair with a deep sigh. “You brought it, might as well hook it up.”
Spike could feel Xander’s eyes on him as he intently studied his finger nails. “Really?” he asked.
“Said so, didn’t I?” Spike retorted, making sure to keep his tone bored.
While Xander went about unpacking the DVD player again, Spike pulled the DVDs over and examined them. A spy-thriller and a vampire drama. “What’s this?” he asked, holding the vampire movie up and waving it at Xander.
“A comedy?” Xander replied without looking over, but Spike could hear the humor in his voice.
Xander had pulled the television away from the wall and was kneeling beside it, hooking up the cords to the back of the tv and the DVD player, his teeth worrying his lower lip. Spike’s eyes glazed as he imagined Xander kneeling before him, swollen lips wrapped around his cock, looking up at him with lust-filled eyes, hair falling over his forehead. He groaned as he hardened in his jeans.
“What’s wrong?” Xander asked, his head snapping up at Spike’s groan.
Spike rose and stalked him. “You ‘bout done with that?” he asked.
“Um, yeah. Why?”
“I think we’ve done enough ‘something different’ tonight,” Spike replied. He grasped the back of Xander’s head and pressed the boy’s face to his erection. Xander nuzzled Spike through his jeans. “You look so pretty on your knees.”
Xander gently bit him. “‘M not pretty,” his muffled voice reached Spike’s ears.
“You have such a pretty mouth. So warm and wet, suckin’ me so good.”
“Mmm, Spike,” Xander moaned, and Spike could smell his arousal.
“Suck me, Xander,” Spike said, and Xander eagerly released his prick, teased it with hot breath and flicks of tongue, and then took him in. Spike ran his fingers through Xander’s hair, holding his head lightly as he slowly thrust his hips until Xander had taken all of him.
Spike closed his eyes and bit his lip, struggling to keep from losing control and just fucking Xander’s mouth. When Spike opened his eyes and looked down, he saw himself sliding between Xander’s swollen lips as lust-filled eyes gazed up at him, hair fallen over Xander’s forehead. Spike moaned, stiffened, and came.
He watched through half-lidded eyes as Xander milked him dry and cleaned him off. Spike pushed Xander back onto the hard floor and knelt between his legs, pulled his cock out, and sucked him off to the lovely sounds of panting and mewling. By the time Xander came, Spike was hard again. He quickly prepared Xander and then took him hard and fast amidst the DVD packaging.
Xander began showing up more often after that; three times a week, sometimes four. The day he showed up with a clipboard, pencil, measuring tape, and rolled-up plans for the city’s sewer and water systems, Spike was confused. Once a week or so Xander would show up with another movie for them to watch, or a new toy for them to play with, but this was something new and strange.
“Kinky,” he said to hide his confusion.
Xander just gave him a look and disappeared down to the lower level. His curiosity got the better of his annoyance, so Spike followed him. He threw himself onto the bed and watched as Xander unrolled the plans, flipped through them until he found the page he wanted, then pulled out a compass and laid the plans on the floor, anchoring the corners with empty whiskey bottles.
Xander studied the plans, then pulled the tape out and measured. When he was satisfied, he pulled out a thick piece of chalk and began making markings on the floor. Spike, unable to remain silent any longer, pushed himself off the bed where he’d been pretending to relax, and stalked over to Xander.
“So, what’s all this, then?”
Xander looked up at him, blinked, pushed hair out of his eyes with the back of one hand. Spike got hard. Xander glanced at the chalk marks, and extended his hand. “Bathroom,” he said.
Spike blinked. “I don’t need a bathroom, pet,” he reminded the boy.
Xander blushed. “Well, the toilet’ll be for me, but I figured you’d like having a shower.” He gestured as he stood.
“You’re gonna install a shower for me?”
Xander nodded again. “Hot water and everything...,” he began, but Spike ignored him and pushed Xander into the chalked shower outline, shoved him against the wall, tore his pants down, and fucked him.
The next time Xander visited, he brought a drill, pipes, and other items Spike had no idea what they were for. Within a week, the shower was in and Spike was thanking Xander with his mouth, the sounds of the boy’s moans and pants louder than the water pounding down on them.
After Xander came, Spike stood and turned him around, pressing him into the clear wall of the shower stall, sliding into his already stretched and well-fucked hole.
“Have I thanked you for doing this for me?” Spike whispered huskily against Xander’s shoulder.
“Might’ve,” Xander replied breathlessly, “once or...oh god!...twice.”
Spike realized that his feelings for Xander were changing. They’d been changing ever since he’d met the boy. From a seething hatred of the Slayer and everyone in her little Scooby gang, to a grudging respect fueled by fantasies, and later combined with lust and great sex, to a budding friendship. The night Xander fell asleep while they were watching a movie and Spike held him until he jerked awake, then helped him into his jacket and sent him home, Spike knew he was screwed.
Patrolling with Xander and making sure he stayed alive and healthy so Spike had a warm, willing—eager, even—body to shag was one thing, but to discover that he not only enjoyed spending time with the boy outside of shaggin’, and that he actually had feelings for him, was enough to send Spike out into the night for a nice spot of violence. After he made sure Xander made it to his car unmolested. Ponce!
The fact that he came back horny and covered in demon goo and wanked to images of Xander in the shower kept Spike up all day. He was drunk, but not drunk enough, when Xander showed up the next night. Spike hadn’t been sure Xander would come by, but since he’d fallen asleep the night before, Spike thought he might. Spike had been thinking about what he’d say, but hadn’t come up with anything. There was no way he could not say anything, because it wasn’t possible for him to function with this newfound knowledge burning in his gut.
“Spike,” Xander said, sounding worried. He was staring at Spike, and Spike wondered what he was seeing. His hair was probably sticking up, since he’d run his fingers through it a hundred times, and his eyes were probably bloodshot, if the way he was feeling was any indication.
Xander glanced down at the pile of empty bottles on one side of the chair and the growing mound of cigarette butts on the other side. “Something happen?” he asked, and Spike could tell he was struggling to keep his voice even.
Spike took a long drag off the cigarette as he looked Xander over, buying himself time. Finally he said, “Had an epiphany.”
When Spike didn’t elaborate, Xander said, “Gonna share?” He tried to make his tone light, but his voice cracked, and Spike could tell he was nervous but trying to hide it.
As much as Spike didn’t want to broach this topic, he wasn’t one to beat around the bush. “What is this?” he asked, brandishing the nearly empty bottle in a drunken gesture.
“Us. You. Me. Hookin’ up a DVD player and watchin’ movies. Puttin’ in a shower.”
Xander blanched. Spike smelled the sour scent of fear, something he hadn’t smelled on Xander since after his second visit, and it made him nauseous to know he’d done that, been the cause of that, which pissed him off. What was he doing, caring about a silly human boy? He glanced up as Xander shuffled his feet.
“Want me to leave?” Xander asked. His voice quavered.
And suddenly, Spike couldn’t imagine anything he wanted less. He dropped the bottle as he pushed himself out of the chair. Xander’s eyes widened, and he took a step back.
“I-I’m sorry,” he said as Spike backed him into the wall. “I didn’t mean to....”
Spike leaned into Xander and rested his head on Xander’s shoulder. He was so tired of being alone, of being lonely, and, after dwelling on it all day, had pretty much adjusted himself to the fact that he’d fallen for another brown-eyed, brown-haired beauty, and that this one was human at that. “I didn’t mean to, either,” he whispered hoarsely.
That night they made love, just as hot and passionate as usual, but the difference was almost palpable. For the first time since they’d started down this path, Spike asked Xander to stay.
Since the night they’d admitted that their feelings for each other were...more...they’d only grown stronger. It took them a couple more nights together to be able to say the actual words, but Spike would never forget the wonder in Xander’s eyes that first night, when he realized that the same act that had brought them such sexual pleasure could also give them a deeper emotional connection.
Spike wasn’t sure if Xander was surprised because he felt it with Spike, or because he’d never felt it before. Spike liked to think that he was the only person Xander had ever achieved such a bond with, but figured he was only deluding himself.
Three nights after his drunken admission, Spike, in the middle of the most powerful orgasm he’d ever experienced, cried out, “Hell, Xander, love you!”
When the haze lifted, and he realized what he’d said, Spike raised his head to look at Xander, who was staring back at him. Spike opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His brain didn’t seem to be connected, not that he knew what to say even if his mouth was working.
“Did you mean it?” Xander finally asked.
Spike swallowed hard. “Yes?”
Xander raised his eyebrows. “Yes?”
Xander’s lips quirked.
“You laughin’ at me?”
“Pillock. What about you?” He glared at the smirking boy.
“What about me?”
Spike poked his fingers in Xander’s ribs.
“Spike, please, god...!”
“Say it, Xan.”
Spike stopped tickling him, and Xander gasped for air.
Spike raised his hand and wiggled his fingers threateningly.
“No, no!” Xander grabbed his hand. “I...I.... This is hard.”
“I said it,” Spike said, put out.
“You said it when you were thinking with your little brain,” Xander reminded him.
“Not so little,” Spike pouted.
Xander grinned at that. “I love you,” he said.
Spike shook the memories away and got out clean jeans and a t-shirt. It was Friday night, and Spike knew that Xander and his friends were going to be at The Bronze. They’d gotten used to having Spike show up, play a couple of games of pool, and then join them at their table.
Buffy usually rolled her eyes and gave him the cold shoulder, but she’d stopped voicing her disapproval when he and Xander made it clear, by deed rather than word, that they at least tolerated each other’s company. Buffy didn’t like it, but it made it easier to pair Xander with Spike for patrol without feeling too guilty about fobbing him off, and made one less person she had to walk home at night, so she kept quiet for the most part.
He glanced at the growing pile of dirty clothes heaped on the floor next to the dresser Xander had made for him. He hated going to the laundromat. As he climbed into the shower, Spike wondered if he could get Xander to put in a washing machine.
Showered and dressed, Spike gave his hair a final pat, wishing briefly that he could see what he looked like. He remembered vaguely what William had looked like, but he had no idea what Spike looked like. Shrugging such poncey thoughts away, Spike swung his duster over his shoulders like a piece of armor, and headed out to meet Xander.
Spike swaggered into The Bronze, knowing that Xander’s eyes would immediately be on him. Xander had told him once, after an extremely energetic rimming that took him to the edge twice before Spike let him fall over, that he watched the door until Spike came through it, and that the first glimpse of Spike always made him hard. Spike, who’d come when Xander’s ass tightened around his tongue, had gotten hard enough to fuck Xander unconscious after that revelation.
After a shot of tequila, preceded by a lick of salt while he gazed across the room at Xander from under lowered lashes, Spike sucked the slice of lime with a relish usually reserved for the bedroom, and then grabbed his beer and sauntered over to the pool tables with an extra swish of his hips. With feigned ignorance of his lover’s flush, his stampeding heartbeat, Spike greeted Raul and Ted at the tables.
As usual, they arranged for him to play the winner, and then he set his beer down on the small round table they were using. He took his duster off, hung it over the back of a chair, and stretched. He felt the air on his belly as his t-shirt lifted, heard the muffled moan he’d been listening for over the other sounds filling the club. Spike smirked, and turned to the game, pretending to give it his full attention.
Three games later Spike slipped his duster on and looked around for Xander. The boy was usually waiting for him at the table, though Xander refused to admit he was doing anything other than enjoying his friends’ company. Spike, however, could always tell by the boy’s raised body temperature and increased heart rate that he was fully aware when Spike moved to join him.
Sometimes Xander was able to keep an empty chair beside him, and other times Spike had to pull one over, but he always made sure to drag his fingers along the back of Xander’s neck when he grabbed the chair back in a pretense of needing to balance himself as he took his seat.
Tonight, however, Xander wasn’t sitting at the table. Spike, who could now easily pick his lover’s heartbeat out of the crowd, eventually zeroed in on Xander—on the dance floor. Spike raised an eyebrow as he watched Xander gyrate between Willow and Tara. He noted Buffy and Riley dancing nearby, marking the enemy’s position out of habit, and then ignored them in favor of watching Xander. The boy wasn’t paying attention to Spike, so he couldn’t resist eschewing a seat at the table for the opportunity to sneak up on him unnoticed.
Spike glided through the dancers and slid up behind Xander. He placed his hand on Xander’s lower back where it would go unnoticed by the others, and applied a gentle pressure with his thumb, a move that was normally the prelude to a long full-body massage, and which always turned Xander to mush.
He felt Xander melt into the light touch, and nodded over Xander’s shoulder to Willow, who shot him a small, uncertain smile. Suddenly, Xander tensed and jumped away from Spike. He heard the boy’s heart start pounding, and sensed his anxiety.
“Whao, fangless,” Xander greeted him in a high pitched voice. “Don’t be touching the goods, oh, undead one.” He gave a nervous laugh.
The words cut like a knife. Spike wasn’t sure why, since they weren’t much different from the words Xander usually used when they were with the other Scoobies, in order to keep their relationship a secret. The words were usually underlaid by a note of teasing, almost as if they were nicknames, or a form of flirting, and Spike accepted them in that vein. But not tonight.
Perhaps it was the fact that he’d been urging Xander to make their relationship known to his friends. Xander told Spike that he wished they didn’t have to hide their feelings for each other, but insisted that neither one of them would be able to keep Buffy from staking Spike, and her first reaction was not going to be joy that Xander was very happy in his new homosexual slash necrophilic relationship with the vampire.
Xander had always managed to tease Spike out of his funk with sweet words, tender kisses, and light touches until Spike couldn’t remember his own name, much less why he thought it was a good idea to let the Scoobies in on their little secret. But that wouldn’t work now.
Spike’s vision blurred and the sound dimmed as if he’d entered a long tunnel. All he could feel was the pain of Xander’s seeming rejection like a stake to the heart. His vision cleared and he saw Xander looking at him worriedly.
“Are you all right?” Xander asked, reaching for Spike’s arm, but Spike could barely hear him over the borrowed blood rushing through his ears. He pulled his arm back to evade Xander’s touch.
“I’m leaving,” he said.
“Um, okay,” Xander responded.
Spike ignored the curious looks the others were shooting his way, turned on his heels, and pushed his way through the couples crowding the dance floor. He heard Xander call his name, but gave no indication of it. His entire being was suffused with a hurt like none he’d ever felt, and he just needed to get out of there.
Spike pushed through the door and stepped out into the night, unaware of how he’d gotten there. He paused, looked up and down the street. He needed to do something to take his mind off Xander and how much it felt like everything was falling apart.
Xander claimed to be worried about Spike’s remaining among the undusted when Buffy found out about them, and while Spike believed that was true, he also knew that Xander’s fear of discovery was also based on shame. He’d seen it in Xander’s eyes tonight before the boy could hide it. Spike hated how much it tore him up inside.
He headed off in the direction of the old high school, knowing that he’d find a nice spot or two of violence near the Hellmouth. Before he’d gotten very far, he sensed Xander’s presence behind him.
He ignored Xander and kept walking.
“Spike, wait a minute! Geez.” Xander grabbed his arm and pulled him around, then stood for a minute to catch his breath. “You left...so fast...I didn’t.... Listen, I’ll stop by later?” he asked breathlessly, looking at Spike with eyes that shone with love.
The light in Xander’s eyes only served to push Spike’s buttons, because he couldn’t understand how Xander could love him so much, and still want to deny their love when they were with his friends. Spike laughed derisively. He was only fooling himself. He knew, had certainly thought about it often enough.
Spike didn’t doubt that Xander loved him and was concerned that Buffy would stake him if she found out about them, but Xander also didn’t want his friends to find out because he was afraid of what they’d think about him for taking up with a vampire, especially Spike. Well, he knew how to take care of that.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Spike finally said.
“Oh. Okay.” Xander sounded surprised, confused. “What about tomorrow?”
“I don’t think we’re a good idea,” Spike said gruffly, trying to hide the pain his own words caused him.
Spike tilted his head so he didn’t have to look into Xander’s eyes. “This isn’t working,” he said, his tone hard, unyielding.
“Not working?” Xander repeated dumbly. “What are you talking about? We’re working just fine! Spike, what’s...why’re you...?”
“Then why are we hiding?” Spike asked, poking a finger into Xander’s chest hard enough to make the chip twinge. “If we’re working, if we’re...good...then why won’t you tell your friends about us?” he demanded.
Xander visibly deflated. “We’ve talked about that,” he said. “We agreed not to say anything to keep you from getting all dusty.”
“We did agree,” Spike growled. “We don’t agree anymore. You know I want to tell them. I don’t want to keep pretending we’re not together. I want to hold your hand,” he hissed the last word, realizing that his voice has risen. “I want to be able to touch you without having to look over my shoulder,” he continued in a more even tone.
“I want that, too,” Xander said, stepping into Spike and wrapping his fingers around Spike’s biceps. “But it’s too dangerous.”
Spike breathed the scent of him in and nearly caved. “I’m willing to risk it,” he insisted.
“I’m not!” Xander said, squeezing Spike’s arms.
Spike wanted to scream his pain into the night air. Instead he ground out, “I know you care for me, Xander....”
“I love you!”
Spike ignored the interruption and continued, “But I think you need to be honest about the reason you don’t want to tell your friends about us.”
“Yeah,” Spike agreed sadly, “I do.”
“You’re afraid of what they’ll say,” Spike said, the words pouring salt into an already open wound. “Afraid of what they’ll think about you for getting involved with a vampire. With me.”
Xander shook his head in denial. “No. Spike, no.”
“You’re ashamed of me. Of us.”
“No, Spike, that’s not true,” Xander insisted.
“Then tell them,” Spike urged, a spark of hope flaring in his heart. He touched Xander’s cheek with the tips of his fingers.
Xander stared into Spike’s eyes. “I can’t,” he said, his voice thick with tears.
Spike nodded once, reluctantly pulled his hand away from Xander’s face, and stepped back. “And I can’t be your dirty little secret anymore,” he said, and then turned away before Xander could see the tears gathering in his eyes. Before he changed his mind.
It had been thirteen days since Spike broke things off with Xander. The first night he’d left Xander standing on the sidewalk, Spike hadn’t been thinking about where he was going. He didn’t get far before he was confronted by a Y’l’rch demon and realized he was still headed towards the Hellmouth.
He made it back to his crypt just before the sun rose. Covered in demon goo, he’d stripped and stepped into the shower. Xander’s scent, which pervaded his home, filled his nostrils. He tried to close his mind down and not think about Xander. Once in the shower, however, the scent memory of Xander was nearly overwhelming.
Spike wasn’t completely surprised when Xander showed up the next afternoon—heart hammering anxiously—but he was still in bed since he’d gotten in so late, or early. Attuned to his lover, ex-lover, Spike listened as Xander approached the crypt and entered, blinked blearily as he climbed down the ladder.
“What do you want, Xander?” he asked dispiritedly.
“I thought we could talk,” Xander replied.
Spike’s hope that Xander might have changed his mind, decided to tell his friends about them, was dashed. He pushed the covers back and climbed out of bed, not missing Xander’s gasp and the rush of arousal at his nakedness, wishing he could take comfort in it.
“I think we said it all last night,” Spike said as he angrily shoved his legs into a pair of jeans, zipped and buttoned them.
“Have you changed your mind?” Spike asked. Xander couldn’t look at him, didn’t reply. “Well, neither have I.” He took a deep breath to center himself. “Go home, Xander,” he said softly, sadly.
Spike needed to get away, couldn’t take having Xander so close knowing he didn’t really have him at all. He skirted Xander and moved over to the ladder. “Since you’re here, maybe you should pack up your stuff,” he suggested, forcing a casual tone that was far from what he felt.
He climbed up the ladder before the nearly overpowering misery pouring off Xander made him pull the boy into his arms and forget about the misery he felt at Xander’s denial of him. Of them. Xander left silently, taking nothing with him. Spike, unable to wait until the sun set, got dressed and headed for the sewers so he could drown his sorrows.
Spike didn’t see Xander until Wednesday, when he was called upon to help the Slayer and her rag tag bunch of pals put an end to a Lumox demon that was using the city’s feline population for dinner. Spike had rolled his eyes at the use of resources on a demon that was afraid of humans, but Willow had summed up the feelings of the Scoobies when she’d looked at Spike, horrified, and wailed, “Kitties!”
As usual, he was paired with Xander. They didn’t speak. Not that Xander didn’t try, but once Spike made it clear he had no intention of indulging in ‘small talk’ and had no interest in listening to Xander jabber on, Xander remained silent. The demon was ridiculously easy to find, though not that easy to eliminate, since Buffy had failed to notice that instead of one demon, there was a pack of six roaming the streets of Sunnydale.
The increase in numbers made the Lumox less fearful, and they stood their ground when confronted by Spike and Xander. The demons lost their bravery when Buffy and Riley showed up from one direction, and Giles, Willow, and Tara from another. Despite their numbers, the battle was one-sided and short-lived. Once the six demon corpses lay fermenting on the pavement—Spike had taken great joy in telling Buffy he had no idea that the demons released such a foul-smelling gas when they expired—he checked to make sure that Xander was all right, and then melted into the shadows.
By Friday he’d worked himself into a tizzy and refused to let Xander keep him from enjoying his weekly game of pool with the guys. Spike showered and dressed for The Bronze, and if he took care to make sure he wore the dark blue Henley that Xander said made his eyes look deep enough to get lost in, who was gonna tell?
The night was pure hell as he and Xander both pretended to ignore the other. Spike feigned disinterest when he noticed that Xander was wearing Spike’s favorite shirt, and took his pain out on the pool table. He drank more beer than was good for him, and made note of the overly-made up woman who was stuffed into her dress and flirting with him. Five games later, Spike shoved his winnings into his pocket, raised an eyebrow at the woman who was, against all odds, still standing, and headed to the dance floor with her.
Spike made sure Xander saw them, and then made sure that Xander was the first one to leave. As soon as he confirmed that the Scoobies had vacated the premises, he left the woman standing alone on the dance floor, grabbed his duster, and then set out to find something to kill. He spent the weekend alternating between binge drinking and violence.
By the time Thursday rolled around, he was going stir-crazy—he hadn’t spent so many nights alone in months—and decided to check out the action at The Bronze. He rolled off the bed and stuffed his feet into his boots, only checking to make sure he didn’t have blood stains on his shirts before he flung his duster over his shoulders and took off. Only when he was walking down the sidewalk outside the club did he remember to run his fingers through his hair.
The Bronze was much quieter on a Thursday night, despite the sign advertising ‘Ladies Night’, and Spike had no problem bellying up to the bar and ordering his drinks, and then finding an empty pool table. He rolled the sleeves of the flannel shirt he wore over his t-shirt up and shot alone for nearly an hour before he was approached by a sandy-haired man who asked if Spike wanted to play a game. Spike took his shot before acknowledging the other man, and then stood up slowly and raked his eyes up his body.
“Sure,” he said, figuring he could take the guy.
“Great! My name’s Rob,” Rob said. He pulled out a handful of quarters. “Want me to rack?”
Spike stepped back and held his hand out in a ‘be my guest’ gesture, then leaned on his stick and finished his beer while Rob racked the balls. Rob smiled when the balls had been racked and gave Spike room to break.
Before Spike made the shot, Rob leaned close and asked, “What do you want to play for?”
Spike didn’t let the surprise he felt when he recognized Xander’s heartbeat show, and slowly straightened, taking a step towards Rob. “What do you have in mind?” he asked. Rob wasn’t his type, he had a thing for brunettes, but neither Rob nor Xander knew that.
Rob smiled, like an eager little puppy, and ran one finger up Spike’s arm. “How about winner’s choice?” he suggested huskily.
Spike had no intention of losing, so he said, “Deal.”
Rob smiled as if he’d just won the lottery, and Spike could feel Xander’s eyes burning into him. They played three games, and Spike won all three. Rob didn’t seem to care, since he thought Spike was a sure thing. After Spike dropped the eight ball, Rob moved into Spike’s personal space and pressed his chest against Spike’s arm.
“Wanna get out of here?” he asked, his voice holding a lot of promise.
Spike had turned towards Rob, intending to tell him to sod off, when hurricane Xander appeared, shoving his way into the tiny space between the two men. He placed both hands palm-flat against Rob’s chest and shoved him back a few steps.
“Get lost,” he snarled. He pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “He’s mine.” Xander turned to Spike and pushed him back against the pool table. “You’re mine.”
“Hey, buddy,” Rob interrupted, unwilling to give up so easily.
Xander closed his fingers around the back of Spike’s neck and kneaded. Spike couldn’t help arching into the touch as he watched Xander slowly turn his head until he was glaring at Rob. “Take. A hike.”
Rob looked between Xander and Spike and must have realized that his sure thing wasn’t so sure anymore. “Fuck,” he swore, and then took off.
Xander turned his glare back onto Spike. Despite his response to Xander’s touch, Spike said, “I think you’re forgettin’ somethin’, pet.”
“Shut up, Spike,” Xander ground out before using his hold on Spike to pull him into a kiss.
Kiss? Spike thought. This wasn’t a kiss. Xander attacked his mouth like a starving man at a banquet. Spike shifted against the table, and Xander, assuming Spike was trying to get away, spread his legs to either side of Spike’s and pressed more tightly against him. The hand not on Spike’s neck went around his back and his fingers fisted in the flannel.
Someone whimpered, and Spike thought it might have been him. He dropped the cue stick and both arms went around Xander as he kissed the boy back. Xander pulled back, breathing hard. Spike’s eyes were drawn to Xander’s wet and swollen lips, and then back up to eyes that looked nearly as dazed as he felt.
The cacophony around them resolved itself into Buffy yelling, “Xander! What in hell do you think you’re doing?”
Spike stiffened in Xander’s hold and made his face go blank. Xander might have been pushed to the edge by Rob’s flirting, but that didn’t mean he was ready to tell his friends about them. He waited for Xander to let go and step away from him, but Xander didn’t release his hold, nor did he look away.
“I,” he said, still trying to catch his breath, “am kissing my boyfriend.”
“You’re whating your who?”
Spike swallowed hard, then again. There was no way he was going to act like a poof in front of the Slayer. “Xander.”
Xander’s hand was still on Spike’s neck, and he began kneading again, this time a gesture of comfort. “And I’m going to kiss him again, because I’ve really missed kissing him.”
“Xander.” Spike knew that there would come a time when he could do more than breathe Xander’s name, but he didn’t know when that would be.
“I don’t think so!” Buffy growled, then huffed when both men ignored her.
“Spike, I’m sorry....”
Spike cut off Xander’s apology with a kiss.
“What in hell is going on here?” Buffy threw her hands up.
“Something freakishly Hellmouthy,” Willow submitted.
“Xander and Spike appear to be kissing,” Tara offered helpfully.
“Thanks,” Buffy said.
Xander broke their kiss and turned his attention to Buffy. “Spike and I are together,” he began defensively, then quickly turned back to Spike. “We’re still together, right?” he asked worriedly.
Spike nodded. “Yes,” he croaked.
Xander smiled, and ran his hands down Spike’s chest. His smile faltered. “Is this my shirt?” he asked.
Spike was saved from having to answer by Buffy’s annoyed, “Xander!”
“Oh, right, sorry. Look, Spike and I are together. We have been for a while. There will be no discussion. You don’t have to like it, but you do have to accept it.”
“Xander, you....” Willow began, a surprised look on her face.
“No,” Xander said softly, “no discussion, that’s it.” He turned to Spike. “That’s it, right?”
“Yeah, that’s it,” he agreed sappily.
“Cool,” Xander said, grinning. “Can we go home now? I’ve missed you.”
“Missed you, too, Xan,” Spike admitted.
Xander threw his arms around Spike’s neck and hugged him tight. “I love you.”
“Love you, too, pet,” Spike said, wondering when he’d become susceptible to allergies.
Xander rested his forehead on Spike’s and just looked into his eyes, oblivious to the irate Slayer and confused witches. “Your place?”
“Anywhere,” Spike said.
Xander smiled shyly. “And then, you know, maybe I could stay?”
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