Part Three

Xander felt Spike begin to stir beside him on the sleeping bag, and felt a little bubble of vulnerable panic in the watery morning light. He’d hardly slept at all that night. Couldn’t say that about Spike, who had been sawing logs before Xander could even say goodnight, and who had hardly even moved. Guy slept like the dead. Xander, unused to sleeping with another body in his bed, so to speak, was too nervous to let down his guard. He was a restless sleeper, and he hadn’t wanted to annoy the other man.

The result was that he’d had lots of time to think. To think about Spike, to think about what he’d done with Spike, and to think about what he might like to do with Spike. Why it was a bad idea, and why it was a good idea.

He’d come to a few conclusions.

With a deep inhale, the face that was pressed into his neck arched away, and intensely blue eyes opened and blinked at him, getting their bearings. Spike’s arm was still around his waist, only now Xander was laying on his side facing him, so that Spike’s hand rested against his lower back. As Spike smiled in that sharp, sharky way that wasn’t softened by his rumpled hair, like you’d think it would be, he reached down and squeezed Xander’s ass.

“Morning, gorgeous.” Spike’s voice was extra deep with sleep, and Xander felt himself blush all the way to his toes at the compliment, and the manhandling. Even if the label was a dirty, smooth-talking lie.

“Sleep well?” Spike withdrew his hand to rub drowsily at his eye.

“Yes,” Xander lied. “Did you?”

“Like a cradle-robber,” Spike kidded (sort of), and winked in a confidential way. Xander’s stomach twisted up happily with the gesture.

And yet, he couldn’t ask for a better segue if he tried.

“You do this a lot, huh?” Xander propped himself up on one arm and tried not to look like he was ready to vomit.

Spike went from pleasantly drowsy to sharp and alert in a second and a half. Somehow, he still looked cool and unperturbed. Xander wished he could play things off like that.

“Whadya mean, pet?” He was all casual indifference, as if he weren’t on high alert for a cry of ‘statutory,’ but Xander saw through him.

“I mean, finding some unsuspecting young thing…taking him to bed and having your dirty way with him, then patting him on the butt and sending him packing in the morning.”

Spike lay still, a predator frozen in the tall grass, trying to be invisible to wary gazelles. “’Course not, pet, there was just something about you I liked, right off. What kind of man would I be if—”

“Spike. I may be a virgin, but I’m not stupid.”

Xander was strangely calm and un-Xander-like. Spike was searching his face leisurely, without seeming to, probably looking for any trace of hysteria or upset. But it was kinda ironic that all of the wiggy feelings Xander had under the anonymous cover of darkness were replaced with an eerie acceptance of The Way Things Were in the soft light. Maybe because Spike’s cock was no longer in his face. Xander couldn’t suppress the blush that came from his own thoughts.

“Might have been with someone younger a time or two, ‘sides you,” Spike admitted cautiously.

Xander rolled his eyes. “Look, it’s fine, it’s your thing, I get it. You like em all young and vulnerable. I’m not upset. Well, I was upset, but by 3am, I was over it. But I just wanted to tell you, I know the score.” Wow that came out a thousand times more confident than he felt. Go Xander!

Spike eyed Xander with uncertainty. “Uh-huh….”

“So you don’t have to be all coy.”

Spike’s eyes narrowed. “’M never ‘coy,’ mate, I leave that to silly chits I’d never look twice at.” He paused, studying Xander. “Look here, are you sure you’re the same boy I picked up last night? Because the boy I picked up last night was all shy and stammery and reluctant to suck my cock, even though you turned out to be quite a champ at it.”

When Xander turned bright red and stuttered over mention of cock-sucking, Spike smiled smugly, like he was back on familiar territory.

“I’m just uh…I just wanted….” Xander’s face was burning with heat now, and he was back to stammering over his words. Just that easily, he’d lost his advantage and felt bashful and out of his league again, in the face of this self-assured fast-talker. He took a deep breath. “I just wanted to let you know, I don’t expect…anything from you. So, you know, when this is all over, you don’t have to tell me lies or let me down easy. I just….”

Spike’s face was impassive, guarded, though a little curiosity peeked through. He tipped his head. “What?”

“I just want to um…” He cleared his throat. “learn stuff.”

Humor flickered under the surface of Spike’s wary expression. “Gettin’ a little ahead of yourself assuming I’d be willing to teach, aren’t you?”

Their eyes remained locked for a moment, but then Spike looked away, running an impatient hand through his morning-wild hair. Without saying anything, he kneeled up and zipped his pants, but not before Xander got a peek at what he’d been unable to see in the dark. He flushed, but Spike’s silence was making him too nervous. Spike grabbed his shirt, and having slept in his boots, bent to unzip the tent flap and step outside.

Xander’s heart sank. That was it, he’d blown it. Typical Xander, unable to keep his mouth shut and just play along. The air outside the tent was sharp and cool with moisture, and snaked inside the small space that had been heated by two bodies throughout the night. Spike was just standing with his hands on his hips, soiled shirt in one hand, squinting at something, or nothing, over the crown of the tent.

Xander didn’t even have the heart to enjoy the fact that Spike was ripped. Not like he’d get to benefit from it. Why torture himself?

Suddenly Spike’s eyes dropped back to his and Xander found himself holding his breath under the cool gaze.

“Get your kit on and come by our place quick as you can, right? You’ll never find us in this crowd, once we head over to see the bands.”

Without another word or acknowledgement of their conversation, Spike turned and walked away.

Xander quickly zipped up his tent so that no one could see his happy dance. Some things were private.


Willow? was Xander’s new best friend. She rocked.

“And then he’s all,” Willow snorted with anticipation, “In-con-CEIV-able!” They both died laughing, laughter so hard and sincere that there was no room to be dignified: snorts and gasps and guffaws.

It was the hot heat of the day, and Spike wasn’t around. He’d been distant all morning, but sometimes Xander would look up and catch him staring, like when Willow finally convinced Xander to show her his Snoopy dance or when he’d tried, to the detriment of his dignity, to charm Cordelia. He sure as hell hoped Spike wasn’t watching now. Xander had just laughed so hard he’d sucked mucous into his throat and was now choking on it, and that? was not sexy.

“Are you still prattling on about that child’s movie?” Darla asked disdainfully. Xander had discerned right away that she was the biggest snob, in the worst way. “I suppose I shouldn’t be so hard on you. After all, you still are a child. One of the many that get dragged through here for us to babysit. I should be patient though, since it won’t be long before Spike tires of you and kicks you to the curb like all the others.”

Xander knew she was trying to get a rise out of him, but then Darla probably didn’t realize that he understood exactly what his place was here. Well, except for Willow. Wills he knew for sure genuinely liked him.

“You know, Darla, wasn’t it a whole lot easier looking down your nose at people before the nose job? So much more of it to sneer over back then, am I right? Did you set out to make your favorite pastime difficult or was that just an accident?”

Darla recoiled and pulled herself up to her full height, which wasn’t far since she was practically a midget, and tried to look haughty. Xander could see he’d gotten a direct hit on the nose job, especially since Willow was trying hard to conceal her grin.

“I’ll have you know I inherited this nose from my grandmother.”

Xander grinned. “Swiss bank account, or blue chip bonds?”

Darla narrowed her eyes murderously and stalked off.

“Shouldn’t anger Darla, kid. She can be a real bitch when she wants to be.” Angel looked amused, despite the warning he was giving.

Xander was still kind of intimidated by the big guy, but he was on a roll. “What’s she gonna do, bite my ankles?”

Angel barked a laugh and then grew serious, which mostly involved a few well-placed blinks. Apparently size indicated a lack of necessity for facial expressions as well. “She wouldn’t hesitate to cut a boy like you down to size.”

Okkaaayyy, so all kidding aside, Xander was a little unsettled by the way Angel was staring him down right now, so he affected his friendliest, goofiest grin. “I think you should get the name of her plastic surgeon. Because that forehead of yours? It’s interfering with the rational thought.”

All told it wasn’t his best work, but it was worth it when Angel rubbed a hand over his forehead self-consciously. Xander winked at Willow, and they both tried not to giggle.

“I’m going to the little boy’s room,” he told her. “In other words…that group of trees over there. If I’m not back in an hour, send a search party.” She gave him a Willow-smile and waved him off through the throngs of sweaty concert-goers.

Xander had just entered the woods when someone grabbed him by the arm, spun him roughly around, and he came face to face with Spike. A quip about skulking in the shadows died away before it ever fully formed. In fact, all of his bravado died away abruptly in light of the way Spike was studying his face. Intensely, unblinkly, head cocked, like a bird of prey trying to make sense of something novel.

And then Spike’s mouth mashed to his and Xander’s back hit the rough bark of a tree. And Xander was so very easy, shamefully so, because Spike barely thrust his tongue inside his mouth before Xander was wrapping his arms around him and trying to press closer. He whimpered when Spike took him by the back pockets and began to rock their hips together. Tried to climb the tree when Spike’s fingers brushed over the seam of his ass.

Spike pulled back, and Xander opened his eyes. He was dazed and hypnotized, a bamboozled little mouse held fast by snake eyes.

Spike leaned in, spoke in a low shivery way against Xander’s ear.

“Not what you seem, are you, luv?” One light finger trailed over the edge of Xander’s ear, and his breath hitched. “That’s alright, though. Spike likes his surprises. Makes the package more fun to unwrap.” Spike’s right hand, sneaky as it was, stole down and curled itself around Xander’s hard-on, squeezing and pressing and rubbing. Xander shuddered. The tip of Spike’s tongue swept along his ear. The woods were blurry in front of his unfocused eyes.

Then Spike pushed away from the tree, away from Xander. Backed away, smirking like sex incarnate, then turned and walked in the direction of their group, without a backwards glance. Swaggered.

Xander was so screwed.


Nighttime again, or finally. The campfire popped and crackled, and there was more good-natured bullshit being slung in the tight, close circle that seemed to shelter him from the darkness of the countryside. Xander was a city boy at heart. Well, a town-boy. A townie? Townsfolk. The point was, a sky lit only by what God had put there gave Xander the wiggins.

Besides, tonight Xander felt a little more like he belonged. He knew it had only been one day with these people, but he felt like he knew them. Intense, like summer camp, or like Xander imagined summer camp would have been, if he’d ever gone. And Xander even felt good enough to put a crack or two of his own into the banter, and they didn’t laugh at him. Well, they did, but in the good way: Oz with a sly noiseless side-eye, Willow with that bright, happy sound he’d heard all day, Lindsey and Faith with twin husky meltylaughs that Xander thought were far too appealing and strangely similar. Like someone had cleaved the same person in half and given one of them tits. Even Cordy had warmed up to him during the day, with a lot of effort on his part, actually. Darla ignored him, and Angel did too, except moments when he stared intently, just watching, in a way that made Xander cold, or hot, or both.

But the laugh that Xander was enjoying the most was that dark chuckle resonating directly into his ear. It made him shiver, and Spike knew it. Somehow Spike had ended up spooned up behind Xander, with his back to the tree Xander had intended to lean against. Gradually Xander had leaned back against his chest instead, beguiled by a couple beers and the long day in the sun and the warm gentle fingertips that were trailing harmlessly but pants-throbbingly along the skin where his shirt met his jeans. The last few hours, Spike had been…charming. And a charming Spike was a force to be reckoned with.

At some point, little baggies and matching pipes started circulating. The drugs made Xander a little nervous. He’d never really ventured beyond alcohol before, didn’t have anyone to venture with, and he didn’t want to look stupid in front of his new friends, just when they were beginning to see him as something other than a burdensome little kid.

Oz jiggled a tin of little pills towards him, and Xander took it on reflex. He was studying them, just pondering whether he was supposed to take one or pass them on, when Spike plucked the tin languidly from his fingers and leaned across the gap in the circle to pass them to Angel.

Xander hesitated. “What were those?”

“Ecstasy,” Spike murmured in his ear matter-of-factly.

“Oh.” Xander tried to make it sound like he knew that, in that one syllable, but it didn’t seem like Spike cared one way or the other. That or he already knew that Xander was a virgin to drug use, too. Xander hesitated, then tried to pass his next question off as a joke. “So what gives with the passing? Thought you’d want me all…you know, horny.”

Spike laughed against his ear like black silk. “I think we both know that we don’t need a drug for that, pet.” The fingers that had been stroking the sensitive skin at Xander’s bellybutton skipped lower, over his erection that was, yes, already in the game. How could he not be, with these casual touches, and the heat of Spike’s body soaking into his back? “No, when this happens—and it will happen tonight, Xander, make no mistake—it’s just going to be you, and me, and the happy chemicals our bodies are makin’ all on their own.”

Spike continued to stroke firm fingertips over Xander’s cock through his jeans, making him shudder and squirm. Suddenly Xander caught Lindsey’s eye, and the cowboy smirked and looked blatantly down to where Xander was being fondled. Mortified, he slapped Spike’s hand away, but when he looked at Spike, the man was only grinning smugly. Like he knew something Xander didn’t. Which wasn’t a stretch, since he knew a lot of things Xander didn’t.

When Oz casually passed a little glass pipe with a lighter into Spike’s outstretched hand, Xander’s stomach clenched with anxiety. He stole a surreptitious glance around the circle, but no one seemed to be paying attention to him. Darla had climbed into Lindsey’s lap and was making his day, by the looks of it, while stealing glances at Angel, who couldn’t care less. Those not involved in conversation seemed caught up in watching that byplay.

Xander turned his head slightly, as casually as he could manage, and watched Spike fiddle with the stuff in the bowl of the pipe with the back of the lighter. When he seemed satisfied by whatever secret requirement, he wrapped his lips around the end of the pipe and snicked the cheap plastic lighter over the bowl. He was doing something with his thumb, and it all looked a lot more complicated than you would expect inhaling smoke would be.

Spike froze with the smoke in his lungs, and when it looked like he might be passing the whole thing to Xander, pipe and lighter, Xander shook his head and smiled. “No, thanks, I think I’ll just—”

Spike turned Xander's face with two fingers on his chin and sealed his mouth over Xander’s and exhaled, tongue flickering lightly along the inner seam of his parted lips. Xander sucked the smoke in with surprise and almost immediately began to choke, but Spike wouldn’t release his mouth, and in an attempt to salvage his dignity, Xander stopped up his airway, holding in the smoke that was already burning in his lungs while preventing any more from entering.

As soon as Spike withdrew, Xander began coughing in big rough hacking spasms, hurting from his chest all the way up through his throat and into his nose. His eyes were watering, but he still saw Spike hand the horrible contraption back to Oz and then settle back with a Cheshire grin, thumping Xander gamely on the back.

Everyone was looking at him, grinning knowingly, and Xander wanted to crawl away on his belly into the dark. He wondered how much of that they’d seen. Still coughing, he made eye contact with Oz, who smiled at him gently.

“Just means you got a big hit. They’re jealous.”

Nice guy—lies through his teeth. Xander smiled his goofy smile and nodded at Oz, but as soon as everyone had resumed their regularly scheduled programs, Xander turned to Spike and narrowed his eyes. Not that that impressed Spike, but it was the principle of the thing.

“No way I’m doing that again.”

“Yes, you will.” The easy certainty in Spike’s voice dug at Xander. Unperturbed, Spike smiled breezily and scraped one fingernail low on Xander’s belly. Xander ignored the shiver it gave him.

“What happened to you and me and our happy chemicals?”

“Oh. Yeh. Well, pot’s different—natural-like, not that I believe that shite, but we need something to relax you for later, yeah?”

Spike’s tongue pressed up behind his teeth and Xander thought of his earlier promise of it happening tonight and felt heat flash up his cheeks and down to his cock.

Spike gave him a knowing look and nudged him to relax back against his chest again. “There see? No more arguments. Daddy knows best.”

The last was purred directly into his ear, five octaves too deep to be human. Spike had to be speaking sex god instead. He nipped at Xander’s ear and Xander’s hips kicked up in response. He closed his eyes and tried to settle himself before turning his attention back to the group, pretending not to be disturbed by the revelation that the word 'daddy' sent blood rushing to his groin.

Daddy issues? Surely not. Not Xander Harris, son of Tony.

Spike passed smoke to him half a dozen times, maybe more, but Xander gave up on his objections that seemed to do him about as much good as…well, none at all. He still coughed, though with Oz’s quiet coaching, it got easier.

Still, it all seemed pretty useless because Xander didn’t think he was high. His head was a little swimmy, and things were extra sharp in some places and extra soft around the edges in others: sights, sounds, sensations. But Xander’d had two or three beers, and he was a lightweight, so that was probably it. Time suspended on him, like it did when you caught a good buzz off of beer or whiskey. The jokes and laughter faded and blended, and Spike felt so warm and solid against his back. Spike shifted sometimes, to reach for his beer or in shuddering laughter, but mostly he was a solid wall for Xander to lean against drowsily. There was a point at which all Xander could focus on were Spike’s fingers, snaking from their station on Xander’s stomach to slide up under his shirt, caressing in long, languid strokes that moved at just the right pace for the floating bubble of time they were riding.

When Spike’s fingers moved stealthily downward until they were slipping inside the waistband of Xander’s loose-fitting jeans, Xander had a sudden alertness to recall that public touching led to public blushing. He took hold of Spike’s wrist and opened his eyes to object.

And got an eyeful of skin.

When had people gotten naked? Or, specifically, Angel and Faith. Because a wide-eyed, dizzying sweep of the circle confirmed that they were the nakedest, though it seemed everyone else was on their way to catching up.

And more than naked, naked together. In the Biblical sense. Really really together. On top of, inside of, together together. Faith’s head was thrown back, and Angel’s big hand was caressing her hip as she rode him.

“Shocked you right to your toes, haven’t we?” the voice of the devil said in his ear. “Poor lamb.” But Spike didn’t sound repentant, and the hand down his pants was being aided by another that was trying to free his zipper. Through the haze of smoky shock, Xander stopped him. His heart was pounding hard and he felt ready to either come right there or run away. Possibly both.

Spike tilted them and when they righted, he had procured a black shirt from the ether and was draping it over Xander’s lap.

“There,” Spike said silkily, licking his ear. “That better, pet?” There wasn’t any mockery, just smooth attentiveness that made Xander relax back against the chest that felt larger than life. Xander looked around, to find absolutely no one looking at them. Darla had finally stopped teasing Lindsey, and his focus was solely on her as she bobbed in his lap. Willow and Cordelia (holy smokes!) were turning kissing into a naked sport, and Oz was fixed on them, touching himself.

Shuddering with the alienness of it all, Xander nodded against Spike’s throat and Spike opened Xander’s jeans under their impromptu blanket and took his cock out. Xander felt his eyes drawn inexorably towards the couple that had shocked him before. They were really pretty, in a dark sort of way. Intense together, and Faith really seemed to be enjoying herself, if the things coming out of her mouth were anything to go by.

Even though they were a distance from the other campers, people had to be able to hear. The thought made his balls tight.

Spike squeezed Xander’s cock lightly, running his thumb over the head so that it dragged into the slit. Xander whined and arched back against Spike’s chest, and it was so very obvious what was going on under that shirt, but the tents sheltered them from outside eyes, somewhat, and everyone else here was having sex, for God’s sake. Unabashedly, without apology, fucking, right in front of everyone else.

Xander’s brain was a haze of lust.

“Your body wants it like a good little slut, Xander, even though what you actually are is a good little boy. Been savin’ yourself for me, haven’t you?” A tongue flicked wet against the back of his ear, and it didn’t make any sense, but Xander nodded anyway and Spike laughed. “Well. You can be a slut all you like here, and nobody will think less of you, pet. So cry for daddy.”

Spike’s hand tightened, and twisted slightly, and Xander did. He cried out for him, a wordless hoarse sound that was almost too loud. It drew a curious but unsurprised look from Oz, whose eyes dropped to the rhythmically flapping shirt in Xander’s lap, and then flicked back up again to give him the same smile he’d offered over the pot, like: It’s all good. Happens to the best of us.

Xander started to close his eyes as Spike got into a real rhythm, but Faith had begun to swear like a sailor and he couldn’t look away, not even to concentrate on his own pleasure. It was like watching porn, only in real life, with all the sounds and smells and visual detail that went with that. Only it was prettier than any porn Xander had ever seen, and not just because it was happening less than five feet away. Faith was some wild untamed thing, beautiful and feral, and it almost seemed like Angel anchored her to the earth. He was…just large, immovably so, with all that muscle, and calm, like even though he was having the hottest sex Xander had ever witnessed or imagined, it was unsurprising to him. Like it was his due. And that should have been annoying, but damned if it wasn’t just sexy.

Spike took Xander’s hand and twisted it gently behind his back, so that his palm was flat against Spike’s hard-on. “Just squeeze it and rub it a bit,” he murmured. “Not trying to get off, yet.” All Xander heard was blah blah squeeze it and rub it blah blah, but Spike seemed pleased with his interpretation, because he moaned and panted praise in Xander’s ear.

The words, the huskiness of Spike’s voice, were a reminder that this was actually real life, not just some strange dream. The realization ratcheted Xander’s arousal even further, if it was possible, and his hand convulsed on Spike’s dick, making the man growl and curse and bite at his ear. Xander couldn’t stop the full body shudder even if he wanted to, which he didn’t. He felt hot and desperate, but Spike wasn’t moving quite fast enough to bring him off.

Just fast enough to drive him crazy.

“You fancy women as well?” came the seductive voice, pointed in the same direction as Xander’s eyes on Faith’s body. Xander nodded, would nod to anything just now but this was true, and Spike made a thinking sound. The bastard was thinking. Just then Angel started fucking up into Faith hard and furious, like his zen was interrupted by the come in his balls, and he was a little angry about that. He gripped her asscheeks in two large palms and pulled them apart, so Xander could see the rapid slap-slap-slap of Angel into Faith. Xander whined and scrambled farther back into Spike, just wanting…wanting.

Spike’s other hand was cupping Xander’s balls, not squeezing or tugging like he needed them to, just holding him there. “God, pet, love the way you’re squirmin’ against me. So hot for it….” Spike’s voice was rough, and just when the sexual frenzy around them had turned Xander into a white-hot ball of need and lust and desperation, Spike’s ball-cupping hand slid lower and gently, teasingly brushed against Xander’s hole and Xander let out a strangled scream and shot his load in a pained convulsion against the material covering his crotch.

“Yeah that’s it. Breathe. ‘S how it’s gonna be between us, innit? ‘Salright, I’ve got you.”

Xander was still shaking from orgasm as Spike used the shirt on his lap to clean him up and then tucked him away inside his jeans. The shirt was tossed aside, and then Spike was urging him to turn around.

They kissed, and eventually Xander found himself sort of on his back, with Spike half on top of him. Spike’s hands were frisky, roaming all over from threading themselves through Xander’s hair to slipping inside his jeans where they might squeeze at his ass. When Spike didn’t make a move to undress either of them, Xander just relaxed and enjoyed the sensation, and the way his buzz, or his high, or whatever this was, allowed him to focus in on Spike’s mouth and body and warm palms and gather nothing from the outside world except the pleasure chorus of moans and grunts and gasps from the people around them.

They kissed for a long time, until Xander was hard again, really hard, and then Spike pulled away despite Xander’s needy whimper. He stood, and extended a hand.

“I’ve got my own tent.”

And Xander realized he felt more sober. Not sober, but more sober. And that was an important distinction, because when he realized what was being offered, along with that hand and that tent, he was able to think it over without being so nervous he wanted to yark in the bushes.

He hesitated only for a moment before he took what was being offered, and Spike hefted him off the ground.

Part Four

Spike ducked into his tent after Xander, who was standing up inside the high crown, looking awkward. Spike squatted to flip on his lamp.

“Well uh…this is big.” The boy had sobered up a little. Gotten a little nervous and begun stating the obvious.

“Mmm,” Spike agreed. “All the better for seducing unsuspecting young things.” When he threw the boy’s earlier words back teasingly, the lad blushed three shades of red. Interesting.

When Xander had ambushed Spike about his dubious intentions this morning before he could even rub the sleep out of his eyes, the kid had, frankly, shocked the hell out of him—not an easy task these days. Spike hadn’t expected Xander to spot the puppet strings. Wouldn’t expect the game to be apparent to someone as naïve as that. Certainly, Spike had taken boys more tarnished than this shiny penny that had known the score, but they’d also known enough to keep their mouths shut.

No one ever spoke of it so bluntly except Spike’s mates, so his shock had been two-fold: that Xander would recognize the tryst for what it was, and that Xander would have the balls to bring it up. As it turned out, the kid had both, which inspired both respect and wariness in Spike, and ruined all of his lovely plans of some horizontal morning frottage. In fact, he’d almost scrapped the whole thing altogether, in a moment of panic. But really, what did it matter if the boy knew he wasn’t the one and only? Xander had certainly seemed level-headed about it, up until the point where he’d ruined his cool cover by blushing and stammering like the innocent Spike knew him to be. Hell, as Xander himself had pointed out, it would even be less complicated this way—no messy goodbyes where Spike would have to fend off future plans.

Xander was exactly what Spike had taken him for, but also…he was more, somehow. His uppity courage seemed to desert him in Spike’s presence most of the time, but Spike had seen it all day, with the others. The boy had bonded with Willow over the silliest things, and seemed utterly oblivious to the possibility of making a fool of himself, even though Spike could see that he badly wanted everyone’s approval. Spike had watched the kid taunt Darla, a bitch steely enough to make a grown man’s balls shrink, and he’d taken a right funny jab at Angel as well. Hell, Xander had even won Cordelia over, and Spike knew that she came with a firm six-month hazing period before she melted and exposed her gooey compassionate center. He’d watched with amusement as the lad had tenaciously flirted with Cordy in a way that was both charming and guileless, until she had literally given up on being a bitch. Now that was a notable accomplishment.

It was all very perplexing. And shockingly attractive. The boy’s transient gutsiness might even rival his soft doe eyes for sheer shaggability.

And after all that, Xander stood in Spike’s tent looking green around the gills, tight-lipped and serious. Because despite his sometime bravado, Xander was what Spike had taken him for: a nervous virgin. And Spike would handle him as such.

Spike tugged Xander down until he sat between Spike’s squatting thighs. He stroked the side of the boy’s face and studied his pupils in the dim lamplight.

“You ok, pet?” Xander nodded. “A bit more sober?”

The boy nodded and murmured, “Yeah, I think so.”

“Good.” Spike tugged Xander forward and kissed him, mouthed at his flushed lips, burning away the uncertainty on the young face with a little tenderness. He was glad he’d caught the lad before he’d popped any of the X that Oz had handed over. Spike knew his lot favored it from time to time, but Spike didn’t find much use for the stuff himself. And he definitely didn’t want any of the boys he brought around taking that shite unless they had experience. Nasty way to lose your virginity, that.

Spike’s tongue teased the roof of Xander’s mouth as he gathered the boy’s t-shirt up with stroking fingers. He broke contact to pull the shirt off over the dark head, then reached back to the scruff of his own neck to tug off his own.

“Why don’t we just make clothing a thing of the past altogether, yeah?” Spike teased as he reached for his own fly, jerking his chin for Xander to remove his pants. There was blushing, and head-ducking, and finally, nudity.

Spike grinned good-naturedly and crawled forward between Xander’s legs until the boy scooted back onto the sleeping bag and retreated conveniently onto his back. Spike rubbed his whole body against all that skin, face hovering just above Xander’s. His tongue pressed up to the front of his mouth teasingly, and Xander was predictably pink.

This time, the lantern was staying on. Spike wanted to see every one of those blushes. No one around to see their silhouettes anyway—no one they didn’t already know, at any rate.

Spike continued frotting against Xander as the boy took big gasps of air. Spike had the distinct and amusing impression that Xander was running multiplication tables or footy scores or what-have-you in his head.

“You are a tasty little morsel,” Spike murmured with a twist of his hips, and a little cry escaped Xander’s lips. Delectable. “Back or knees?” Spike asked.

Bleary hazel eyes peered up into his. “What?”

“Which way?” Spike clarified obliquely as he continued to slip-slide on Xander’s body. “This way, or from behind.”

“Oh,” Xander said, flushing. He closed his eyes. “This way.”

Spike nodded to himself, and hitched one of the boy’s legs smoothly around his hip. Xander stiffened, but Spike was hardly going to take him just like that, so gradually he relaxed again as Spike rubbed their bodies together and brushed a hot open mouth against his throat. When the boy was moaning and rubbing back against him, Spike pulled away and sat up between his lax thighs.

Hazel eyes opened and fixed on him warily. The boy’s stomach muscles clenched in a nervous ripple when Spike rolled his thighs up against his chest to expose his bottom. Xander’s eyes closed, for courage.

“What do you want, Xander?” Spike ran a teasing finger up the boy’s cock and then pinched his nipple, and the slender body shuddered, chest rising and falling with the exertion of being touched and liking it.


Spike tssked, and grinned when Xander opened his eyes and looked annoyed, knees drawn up and body open. “Gonna have to be a mite more specific, just so we’re all clear. All…consenting adults.” He smirked over the last word. Cocked a brow.

Xander shut his eyes again and swallowed as Spike’s lone finger meandered from cock to balls to pretty pink pucker. “I want you to….” He whined with the frustration of not wanting to say the word. “Inside me,” Xander finally said, flaming red.

“Good lad,” Spike murmured, and took pity on his hot cheeks by crawling forward to bestow a kiss on his parted lips. Spike rolled to the side enough to look down as he pushed past the resistant flesh with one slick finger, watching himself disappear into the boy. “Inside…like this?” he teased.

“Oh,” Xander lilted, not even the full syllable. No ‘h,’ just the vowel, as though he were too surprised by the sensation of Spike inside to finish the sound. The boy’s eyes were shut and fluttering, and his mouth gaped. He was beautiful in his shock. In the self-absorption of this moment.

Still watching Xander’s face, Spike found and pressed against that special trigger that changed the world irrevocably. Xander reared up and whinnied like a frightened colt, but Spike knew it wasn’t fear. It was unanticipated sensation. Pleasure.

“Oh,” he gaped. “Please. Please, do…that.”

Spike heard Faith laugh outside the thin wall, because she was otherwise unoccupied now and the boy was actually quite loud. But Xander was oblivious, as Spike fulfilled his request and stretched him further with another finger. His greedy hands were clutching at Spike’s biceps, and he stretched his torso backwards as though he intended to pull himself up into a bridge position.

Might be interesting, though a bit too precarious for a first go.

When Spike began to stretch the boy in earnest, Xander’s eyebrows drew together and he hummed and snuffled, and Spike had to smile, had to. Had to smile and laugh quietly, delighted with the eager and strange noises the kid was making.

When Spike was satisfied that the boy was wide open and lubricated, he pulled away and rolled on a condom while he pumped Xander’s cock absently.

“Xander,” he called softly. The boy hummed, but it didn’t seem like a response to the sound so much as the sensation. Spike stopped touching his cock and zipped a light finger up the arch of the foot bobbing freely in the air.

Xander jerked and his eyes flew open.

“Hi,” Spike laughed.

“Erm. Hi,” Xander mumbled, scarlet once again.

Spike crawled up the boy’s horny body and rubbed his face against that hot cheek, nipping at his ear. “You ready for this?” Spike rubbed his cock along the boy’s cleft with a firm grip.

Xander twitched, as though he’d only been dreaming of Spike’s fingers up his arse, and now yes, wow, there was a solid prick there, about to be inside. There were a few beats of flustered silence, as Spike continued to caress him, cock against his arse and lips against his throat.

“Um,” Xander said coherently, voice shaking a tad. “We need a condom.”

Spike smiled against the boy’s throat, genuinely, and he came very close to cheering Xander’s clear-headedness, or courage. It was a rare thing in Spike’s experience, for a boy like Xander to bring it up.

“Never go without one, luv,” Spike murmured.

“Oh. Then um, I guess, I’m ready.” Spike was a hair’s breadth away from Xander’s lips, and those dark eyes flitted everywhere except up into Spike’s eyes. Spike cupped the boy’s face, as though it would steady his vision somehow, and his lips bridged the gap between them. Hazel eyes snapped dead center to his own and held as Spike pushed forward, slow, lips moving absently on Xander’s as he felt the boy tremor around his cock. Xander tensed and whimpered, and Spike slowed even further.

Bugger. Glaciers went at a faster clip.

When Spike had finally slid all the way home, he stilled. Xander broke away from his mouth and held his eyes for a beat longer, until his wide-eyed gaze skipped down between his own bent thighs to where he and Spike were connected. The boy just stared, taking rapid, shallow breaths, face twitching once or twice into a near-expression.

Spike shushed him kindly like a skittish little creature when his eyes slid shut. The boy’s muscles were flexing rhythmically around Spike’s cock, squeezing him, as if he weren’t bloody tight enough already, but Spike barely moved to breathe. He was a little concerned about the boy’s reaction.

Spike was just about to ask if Xander was alright, when the lad spoke first. “So this…is what the casing for a summer sausage feels like,” he panted, cheeks flushed and voice on the edge of discomfort and pleasure and humor.

When the joke connected up with Spike’s brain, he gawked in utter shock. Had he just…this little git…Spike was in near pain from being patient, and this little shit was making jokes? “Bloody…are you….”

Comparing Spike’s member to an unappetizing conglomeration of leftover animal bits…Of all the bloody….

Abruptly, Spike’s stuttering anger gave way to great rolls of laughter, and he collapsed down onto his forearms, head bowed, stomach cramping with hilarity as he tried not to jar the body beneath him. Xander’s eyes opened in surprise and then his face split in a huge grin, and he started to laugh as well. They were both guffawing now, and Spike could feel tears building in the corners of his eyes, and he was strangely aware of how quiet it was outside the tent.

Eventually their mirth died out in a few gasping hiccoughs of laughter, and Spike’s cheeks hurt from smiling. He looked down at the relaxed face beneath his and shook his head. “Un-bloody-believable,” he said, sounding as amused and disbelieving as he felt. But the muscles around his cock were looser, and the boy’s whole body was lax and receptive. No longer afraid. The moment had done a better job than he ever might.

Still, it was a little insulting, he thought to himself grudgingly. Cheeky boy.

“I’ll bet a bloody sausage can’t do this,” he found himself muttering, and Xander nearly burst into laughter again, but Spike quickly withdrew and slammed home, hitting his intended mark. Xander’s eyes rolled back and his mouth froze in a satisfyingly respectful sound of pleasure. “Could it?” Spike couldn’t resist prompting.

Xander shook his head desperately as Spike pumped out and back again. The boy jerked with the impact to his prostate, but smiled crookedly, as though responding to an inside joke.

“What?” Spike demanded.

“Nothing, it’s just…we’re comparing your dick to a sausage. It seems kinda Freudian.”

Spike coughed, wanting to snicker all over again. “Cheeky,” he muttered, and sealed his mouth to Xander’s, so that there could be no more talking as he began to build a rhythm in the lad’s body. Xander clamped down on Spike in a way that was heavenly, and Spike raised himself up in a chest press for better leverage. Xander whimpered at the slow steady roll of his hips.

“Ok?” Spike panted. The boy nodded deliriously. Spike’s eyes swept down and lingered, enjoying the view.

When he looked back up, Xander was watching as well.

“Oh god.”

Spike grinned, watching the flush creep up the boy’s sweaty face.

“You’re really fucking me.” Xander said it like it was a real revelation. A shocking discovery. Spike’s grin widened.

“Yeah, I really am,” he confirmed with gusto. When Xander’s wide eyes met his, he winked, pulled the boy’s legs around his waist and then began to fuck him in earnest, with fast snapping hips.

The dark head fell back against the old sleeping bag with a hard swallow. The pace was too fast for Xander cry out in time with Spike’s thrusting, but bless the lad for trying. The needy little sounds were punctuated with words like “good” and “god” and “fuck.” Spike’s balls were tight and he was oddly clear-headed and honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this good.

When he began to play idly with the pretty cock laying against Xander’s stomach, the boy’s senseless word-babble accelerated and his body bucked up like a wild thing, which made Spike laugh and bite his lip. More purposeful stroking earned him a sigh and a gasp and a shudder, and then pre-orgasmic clenching began around his cock.

Xander came with a shout all over his belly and Spike managed two more rough uneven thrusts before his own brain blew to pretty bits, and he collapsed down with an icky squish between them.

“You,” Spike panted enthusiastically, “are a bloody good shag, Xanderrr….”

“Harris,” the boy muttered gamely.

“Right,” Spike slurred tiredly. “Bloody good.”

“O-kay,” Xander agreed absently, and within seconds, he was snoring.

Spike chuckled to himself, rolled off and did a half-arsed job of tidying them both before he slipped from consciousness himself.


Spike awoke to find himself snuggled armlessly against a back that someday would be quite broad, but for now was merely lanky. Armlessly, because his arms were trapped between their bodies, not because they had fallen off in the night. Though after that shag, he wouldn’t have been shocked to suffer injury.

Spike must have huddled nearer to the heat the boy gave off like a furnace sometime during the night. Neither of them had thought to crawl into the sleeping bag before they’d passed out, and they were both naked, and it was bloody cold in the early morning in the California desert, even in June. Spike tugged the zipper of the sleeping bag down, and squirmed inside the half of the bag not under Xander, throwing his arm over his face to block out the light.


Angel’s bellowing voice rang out in the camp, quite close by, in a horribly bad rendition of Streetcar Named Desire. Spike cracked an eye irritably, and promptly shut it against the brightness.

When Angel screamed again, the boy jerked awake beside him. “Wazzizprblm.”

“Mmmm,” Spike answered, and Xander seemed to take that as an actual reply. Good lad.

The matter was clarified seconds later, by the loud and growling voice coming from just outside the tent wall.

“There’s come on my t-shirt.”

Xander snickered in surprise on the other side of him, snorting through his nose. Spike thought of his improvised shield for Xander’s hand job the night before and grinned, and started laughing himself, without leaving the dark safety of the crook of own arm.

The disembodied voice was unamused. “Spike! Why is there come on my black t-shirt?!” it demanded.

“Because…someone came on it?” Spike supplied helpfully. He and Xander immediately burst into howling laughter, and Angel stomped away, muttering things that were hazardous to Spike’s future health and well-being.

When the laughter petered away inside the tent, Spike risked a side-eyed peek from the cave of his arm, in Xander’s direction. “Morning,” he murmured at the hazel eyes looking back.

The boy stretched in a way that Spike felt sure was not meant to be enticing, yet did the job remarkably well. Xander yawned. “Morning.”

Spike smirked and sat up, thumping Xander on the leg. “We’d best get out there, before Peaches pisses all over our Cheerios.”

Xander laughed, and then paused when Spike began to dress hurriedly without laughing back. “Wait, you’re kidding right?”

Spike just shrugged as he climbed out the open tent flap, pulling on his boots. Spike left the boy to blink dazedly at the possibility that he was not, smirking to himself when Xander suddenly began to scramble about with the fear of God that his brekky was in grave and mortal danger.

Part Five

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