Thursday Night Kitten Poker


by
Thedabara_cds



Part Six


SMUT WARNING!!! At this point, I'm going NC-17 on this fic.
If you are under 21, or do not approve of hot man-on-man action, let alone gay vampire snuggles, then stop right now! Go home. Move along, now. There's nothing to see here.

Xander threw his keys on the table and wandered to the bathroom, stripping down and shedding clothes the entire way. It had been an exhausting day, he was covered in sticky sweat, and his skin itched like mad from all the concrete dust. Nothing was going to stop him from getting a long hot shower, right now.

As the hot water soothed his sore muscles, he smiled in anticipation of the evening. He and Spike had been spending a lot of time together of late, and he'd realized that he really looked forward to it. They'd MST-3K'd everything they watched, from bad sixties horror films to old Dr. Who TV shows to "World's Strongest Man Competition" reruns. They shared a liking for old gangster films, especially Bogart and Cagney, and the Marx Brothers, and cheesy old serials like Buck Rogers. Xander was a semi-regular at the weekly kitten poker game now. And the couple of times that Spike took him out clubbing to "pull the birds" were so much better then clubbing with Willow, there was no comparison. Willow tried, she really did, but she hovered like a mother hen at straight clubs, scared every girl in the place away from him, and at Sunnydale's only gay club, well, the attention he'd scored while Willow was off trolling the room for hot babes had made him want to run screaming.

But Spike made him feel completely at ease, to the point where he could get up on the dance floor and shake his thing without feeling like a complete fool, or maybe just not caring how the hell he looked. And the girls flocked to them, just glad to hang with two guys who clearly were having so much fun. He'd quickly lost count of the times they'd both been hit on or outright propositioned. Spike was an amazing dancer himself, and Xander had felt sooo hot and sexy, the way everyone was looking appreciatively at the pair of them up on the dance floor, gyrating madly with whatever gorgeous girls they were dancing with at the moment. Xander had never felt so free, so unashamed of himself, so wanted, like every pair of eyes in the room were undressing him and liked what they saw. It lasted right up until Xander looked over at Spike, and felt a niggling itch in the back of his brain that felt uncomfortably like envy. It wasn't envy of Spike either, it was the long-legged hottie draped over him, gyrating like she was trying to get his jeans pried off using only her ass muscles that he was envious of. He suddenly had a huge urge to walk over, peel the slut off of the sleek vampire, and grind his own hips hard into Spike's, make him groan, make him pant. He felt all the blood rush to his groin, and dizzy with want, completely panicked. Without a word to his dance partner, he stumbled back to their table and downed a large swig of his now warm beer, trying to figure out at what point he'd gone completely insane.

He did not want Spike. Spike was a guy! An undead guy! And Spike was not gay, any more then he was. And he was so NOT gay.

....Except that one time in Oxnard. And well, he did check out other guy's butts, you know, just for comparison sake. Ok, so he was somewhat bi. Not that he liked to broadcast it or anything.

And yes, Spike had mentioned a few little things here and there that led him to believe that vampires were a lot less concerned with gender labels then humans were.

But Spike had never shown any interest in him personally, not that way. And Spike had become a very good friend to him. He didn't want to jeopardize that. Willow and the girls meant a lot to him, but they either stifled him with too much care and concern or completely dismissed his problems as unimportant. They were all too involved in their own problems to notice him much lately, anyway. Spike genuinely enjoyed spending time with him, liked the same things, and he never realized how empty his life had been, even when Anya lived with him, until Spike had come along and just hung out with him. Outside of sex, he and Anya just didn't share many interests in common, and he could see now that it wouldn't have worked out long-term. In a weird way, he felt closer to Spike now then he ever did with Anya.

So, when Spike found him back at their table, he lied and babbled that he was still missing Anya a bit, and feeling a little too weird yet to be pairing off with anyone again quite so soon, and that he was a little surprised that Anya wasn't the only woman who was quite so direct about wanting sex, NOW. To Spike's credit, he brushed off the girl he'd been dancing with, and several other more pushy ladies throughout the evening who'd wanted one or both of them in no uncertain terms, and made it clear that Xander's having a good time was his first concern. It gave Xander a warm, fuzzy feeling that disturbed him greatly.

And that night was the first that he'd caught his mind wandering to the blond vampire while stroking himself in the shower. The devious smirk that meant "Let's get into trouble, baby!" ...the way his eyes would go up and down you like he was eyeing a nummy entrée…the faint smell of cigarettes and butter-soft leather…the way those tight jeans clung lovingly to every curve… No, no, no, NO! Not going there. Xander turned up the cold water for good measure. That way lies madness. And humiliations galore.

Drying himself off and wrapping a towel around his waist, he walked back out to his bedroom. And stopped short at the vision lying on his bed, his breath catching in shock.

Spike reclined there, a picture of utter relaxation, knowing smile in place, dark red shirt unbuttoned, framing an utterly lickable chest, and... oh, God... no pants, nothing else, just a lazy hand pumping his swelling erection like he had all night to just lie there and drink in the sight of Xander in a towel. All that cold water had been for nothing, as the sight of Spike sent a dizzying rush of blood to Xander's flagging erection, instantly rock hard again and straining to knock the towel aside and introduce itself.

"Took you long enough. I was afraid you were going to stay in there all night. I started without you. You've got some catching up to do." Spike drawled, eyeing Xander's body hungrily and letting his other hand skate across his own chest, teasing the nipples there. A pearl-like drop of fluid leaked past Spike's foreskin and dribbled down his cock, and Xander watched its journey in fascination, unable to stop from licking suddenly dry lips. He's uncut, his brain helpfully supplied; you knew he would be. As his eyes followed the movement of Spike's hand up and down, mesmerized, he nearly missed the vampire's whispered words. "C'mere pet. Know what you want; come have a little taste." Without conscious thought, Xander crawled up the bed between Spike's artfully splayed legs. As he leaned forward and traced the wet path of pre-come back up Spike's prick with his tongue, they both moaned brokenly. Then brown eyes locked with blue as he gently sucked the quivering length down as far as he could, his tongue mapping every inch along the way. Spike's flesh throbbed and jerked in his mouth, and the cool feeling of a velvety rock-hard cock sliding back and forth along his palette coupled with the vampire's groans and whispers of encouragement were driving Xander towards his own climax far too quickly. He ground himself against the comforter beneath him, certain his pounding heart was about to explode straight past his ribs and splatter all over the room.

When Spike suddenly pulled himself out of Xander's mouth, he whimpered at the loss, only for Spike to turn around and stretch out alongside the length of Xander's body, clasping the boy's own cock firmly at the base and stroking his thighs and balls deftly with fingers, lips and tongue until Xander was begging brokenly for release. When he felt Spike's tongue gently flicking across his slit and gathering up the pre-come that was steadily leaking out, he screamed. Then noticed that Spike's cock was right in front of his face, and turnabout was fair play, after all. Inspired by some of the naughty things Spike was doing to him, he grasped Spike tightly around the base of his weeping prick, and slowly licked a line from perineum to balls, stopping to delicately suck and mouth each one of them in turn as he carefully pumped his hand up and down around Spike's shaft. The whimpers and groans escaping from the lips wrapped around his own cock meant that Spike must really like that, so did it again. And again. Spike started to push him away, mumbling about not being able to hold back any longer, but Xander just clamped both hands around smooth pale hips, wrapped his lips around the silky pink head of Spike's cock and kept sucking, unprepared for the rush of power and sheer unbridled lust he felt when Spike wailed and bucked, and shot load after load of salty goodness across his tongue and down his throat.

As Xander finally released Spike's cock with a last friendly lick, Spike returned his attention to giving the whelp the best blowjob of his young lifetime. Just as Xander started shuddering all over, Spike carefully inserted a wet finger deep in his ass. With a hoarse scream, Xander free-fell over the precipice, fucking Spike's mouth and shooting more spunk then he ever had before – seeing stars before his eyes, and feeling some orgasmic out-of-body experience coming on…

And then Xander woke up.

In his own bed alone, panting like he'd run a marathon, still trembling and shuddering with the aftershocks of the best orgasm of his life, and covered in his own come.

"Oh, Dear God, no. Please, no."

Author's Note:
Oh, Dear Lord. I'm actually writing smutty fanfic! And posting it where people can SEE it!! I must have gone completely insane. Thank God my mother is a computer illiterate. I just hope my hubby never sees this, or I'll never live it down. It'll be far too much fun for him, teasing me about it.





Part Seven

Xander was at the end of his tether. His subconscious was clearly out to get him. He'd thought the dream he'd had was just an aberration and refused to think about it again - and he didn't; not until after the weekly poker game.

It had been just another Thursday, nothing special at all, about broke even, went straight home afterwards. A good time had by all, but nothing to write home about. Until he hit R.E.M. sleep, that is.

The dream he had that night involved Spike winning him in a game of kitten poker, throwing him down on the table, shredding his jeans and claiming him right in front of all their cheering and applauding poker buddies. He'd really wigged out after that one.

The following evening was spent at the Magic Box, researching the latest nasty that had crossed Buffy's path. With Giles gone, it was a lot harder to even know which books to look in. Xander was nervous as a scalded cat, until he realized that Spike hadn't even been invited. Then he felt oddly disappointed.

That night, he'd dreamed that he and the whole gang were back in the old high school library. When he opened the huge box of donuts he'd brought, the Scoobies fell on them like a school of piranha. If he hadn’t let go of the box, they might have gnawed off his hand. As he backed away from the culinary carnage Spike grabbed him, told him he was hungry for something quite different, and promptly tried removing Xander's tonsils with his tongue. This time it was Xander who threw Spike down on Giles' library table, yanked off his jeans and rode him hard and fast in front of everyone. But it wasn't like the other dreams where he was both squicked and so incredibly horny he would come in his sleep; not this time. Not with Giles peering from all angles and taking notes, Buffy repeatedly pouting and telling him "That's not the proper way to stake a vampire!" while licking powdered sugar off her fingers, and Anya asking why she couldn't join in, or at least take some photos and post them on the internet.

This couldn’t go on. He had to make it stop. He had to do something!

He needed some advice, badly. He needed to talk to Willow.

******************************************************************************

In the end, he didn't tell Willow everything, just enough to try to get a potion or something from her to block his "nightmares." But instead of a potion, she gave him a "Talisman of Seeing" to wear at all times. She insisted that dreams were the brains way of solving problems it couldn't figure out while awake, and the Talisman should help him understand what his subconscious was trying so hard to tell him.

He wanted to tell her that he seriously preferred not knowing, but he didn’t think she'd buy it.

What he didn't know was that in the last few days Willow had seen more then he'd realized; and after a lot of thought about it, she decided that Spike and Xander were a good influence on each other.





Part Eight



Author's Note:
Author's Note: There's a bit of Buffy bashing ahead. I tried to keep it to a minimum. I take issue with a lot of her behavior in season 6, but I have nothing against her. Much. Just trying to get plot out of the way, so I can get back to the smut.

Later that evening, everyone was back at the Magic Box researching again. Including Spike this time. Xander quickly noticed Buffy was making Spike very uncomfortable: finding any excuse to invade his personal space and "accidentally" rubbing against him as she reached for a book, and positioning her chair to make sure she showed her legs and cleavage to best advantage. Spike just ignored her and did research like he’d been told to for once in his unlifetime.

After over an hour with no success, Buffy upped the ante. She stood and stretched, and said she wanted a break, and would Spike mind joining her in the training room for a little sparing session? To everyone's surprise Spike replied in a disinterested tone that he didn’t enjoy getting the tar kicked out of him as much as he used to, ta very much. But that the niblet could always use a bit more self-defense training - helpless little girl living on the Hellmouth and all. Dawnie latched onto that idea like a rabid terrier, and by the time Buffy had held firm enough to get Dawn pouting sullenly in the far corner, Spike was ensconced back on the stairs, pretending to be deeply immersed in the huge manuscript in his lap.

After that, she changed tactics and started in on the vamp, finding any excuse she could to make a scathing comment or bait him into an argument. She also clearly tried to keep Dawn too preoccupied to say more then two words to Spike. After dozens of barbs missed their mark, Xander was just about ready to give her a time out and make her go stand in the corner. Is this new, he wondered, or was this how she usually behaved, and he'd somehow never noticed it before? No, he was sure this was something she never did before she, umm, came back.

Something was clearly up between the two, and he had no idea what it was. Until now, it had been a given; Spike loved Buffy, and Buffy merely tolerated Spike for Dawn's sake and because he could be damn handy sometimes. But something had drastically changed, and unless he'd missed his mark, the abject adoration from afar wasn't forthcoming anymore, and it was galling her.

Now that he'd thought about it, it wasn't that out of character for her. She'd never had the slightest interest in him either, but it hadn't stopped Buffy from acting the tiniest bit snotty towards him sometimes, when he'd first hooked up with Anya. She'd been jealous – how come I didn't get that at the time, he thought?

Meanwhile, he could tell that Spike was just about reaching his boiling point. The guy had shown the patience of a saint tonight, and Spike was no saint. He was amazed that the vampire had lasted this long. Xander didn't want to cause Spike any more trouble, but… he needed to get him away from Buffy before one of them exploded. They were both his friends now, and he didn't want to see them kill each other if he could help it. He needed to distract Buffy, throw her off balance, and right now.

More nervous then he'd been since his first night of kitten poker, Xander played his hand. "Well, I'm catatonic, here. I can't even focus my eyes on the page anymore. I'm going home." He turned to Spike, his tone deliberately casual. "So Spike - wanna come along, watch some football and finish off that skanky lager you have left in my fridge?"

He carefully ignored the row of dropped jaws around the table, including Spike's, as he gathered up his coat and satchel. As he headed towards the front door and sanctuary, Buffy exclaimed "What the heck is going on here?!? Since when do you hang out and get all pally with Spike?"

As Xander casually backed towards the shop's entrance, he shrugged and replied in an even tone, "Since I found out we both like football. Coming, deadboy?" In the blink of an eye Spike had beaten him to the door, and was holding it open for them both.

"But, but, he’s evil!"

"You don't have to be "good" to be a Packer fan, Buffy, you don't even have to be human, you just have to be male. Night, everybody!" With that they swept out the door, leaving Buffy sputtering, Tara blushing, and both Willow and Dawn wearing enormous grins.

As they headed in the direction of Xander's apartment, he asked Spike the double jackpot question. "What the hell is up with Buffy? She's acting so weird lately! Maybe Willow should check her out, make sure she's not under a spell or a curse or something.”

Spike pulled out a cigarette and formed his reply carefully. "If you're gonna do that, ask Glinda to check Buffy out; she has better control over the mojo. Truth be told, Red would do the slayer a lot more good if she paid some rent and helped about the house more. Buffy's a single mum now, holding down two full-time jobs. And she's still not breaking even. Top that with being yanked out of heaven. And Giles leaving her to sink or swim on her own. Be enough to break anyone's spirit, it would." He lit his smoke and took a long drag. "I've tried to help, but she won’t accept it from the likes of me. The fact I'm the only one that noticed just seems to royally piss her off."

Xander could feel Willow's talisman humming against his skin. Spike's words were the unvarnished truth, but it wasn't the whole story either. Best not to push his luck at the moment though. He'd figure out what it was that Spike was hiding soon enough.

"You're right. I'll talk to Willow, and give Giles a call too. She's lasted longer then most slayers. If she's burned out, she deserves a little vacation. At the very least, the Council should pitch in on her bills. There must be something we can do for her."





Part Nine



Author's Note:
Author's Note: R for violence. Buffy Bashing alert! This is a little ugly, but should be the last of it. Then we can get back to the smut.

Xander squeezed through the big gates of good ol' Restview and headed towards Spike's crypt; a bounce in his step, a grin on his face, and six bags of gen-u-ine O-pos in his satchel. The talk with Willow earlier had been emotional, but cathartic. The call to England had been much harder. Giles had been both dismayed and determined to get Buffy considerably more help with her expenses then he'd been able to give her on his own. If the G-man had his way, she was going to be the first paid slayer in history, and as far as Xander was concerned, it was all Spike's doing. He couldn't wait to tell everybody. It was time to celebrate!

Nearing Spike's doorway, Xander ground to a halt and pulled out his stake as he heard raised voices and the sound of breaking glass inside. He cautiously approached the wide-open door with as much stealth as he could manage.

"Oh, I understand fine, slayer! I'm supposed to pine away in abject misery until the next time you decide you need a good hard rogering! How dare I get on with my unlife without you! Well, screw that! I'm done. Unless you need backup patrolling or someone to sit with Dawn, stay the hell away from me! Quit -"

The sound of a fist hitting flesh was followed by a huge crash.

"You stay the hell away from Dawn, I don't want you coming anywhere near her! The same goes for Xander, for all my friends!"

"They're my friends too, damn you, and if -"

Xander heard another loud crash, and decided he'd heard enough.

Buffy was reveling in the fury of a slayer scorned; and punctuated her sentences with blows and vicious kicks. "You don't have friends. You only have potential victims! How many times have you told us? You're evil. We can't trust you. As soon as that chip is out of your head, you'll turn on all of us. And from now on you will stay away from my friends, or I'll tell them your chip has stopped working, and you tried to kill me again. See how friendly they are then, huh." She smiled with bitter triumph.

"Christ, Buffy. You, you wouldn't do that. Not even to me."

"Just watch me."

As the slayer pulled her leg back for a final good boot to the gut, a furious voice behind her said "I think I've seen quite enough."

Xander passed Buffy without a glance, and knelt to examine the bloodied heap at her feet.

Spike gazed up at him with a mixture of relief and profound embarrassment. He looked pretty bad. Xander murmured softly "Jesus, Spike. Are you OK?"

Buffy, rather abashed, ventured quietly "Xander, I know how this must look, but-"

Xander shot up and was suddenly right in her face, wearing the most enraged look she'd ever seen in her life. His voice shook with barely contained fury.

"Buffy, you are a dear friend and I love you, but you are SO on my shit list right now. I can barely stand to look at you. GO HOME, before I say something we'll all regret."

Buffy, taken aback, stuttered "But-"

"NOW."

He turned back to Spike, dismissing her without another glance. She watched for a moment as he cautiously took stock of Spike's injuries, then left without another word.

One of Spike's shoulders was dislocated, the mere sight of it was making Xander queasy, and he had several broken ribs. His right eye was rapidly swelling shut, and he was pretty sure his cheekbone was cracked as well. There were a few cuts and scrapes too, but it could have been a lot worse, he told himself. At least she hadn't been pissed off enough to dust him.

"Let's get you cleaned up. Can you stand?"

Xander put an arm around his waist as gently as possible, and half-carried him over to the sepulture he used as a table. On the way, the injured vamp started wheezing and coughing up blood. Xander's nausea went up a notch. He pulled out his handkerchief and handed it over, motioning to the blood dripping down Spike's chin. "One of your ribs must have speared your lungs, so try not to talk or breathe until we get those wrapped." It was a good thing he knew where Spike kept his medical supplies. Even a vampire needed stitching up now and then.

He checked Spike's hidden stash of liquor and brought over the strongest rotgut he could find there. "We have to pop that shoulder back in. You should down some of this first." Wordlessly Spike used his good arm to take the bottle, uncorked it with his teeth, and swallowed down more then half its contents. Taking a moment to brace himself, Spike nodded to Xander. The young man grasped his arm, took a deep breath, and pulled. Spike couldn't hold back his cry of pain, and instinctively Xander's whole body flinched in sympathy as he twisted the arm back in place. By then, both their faces were ashen and drawn from the task at hand.

As he wrapped up Spike's ribs in silence, Xander got more and more livid over the state of Spike's injuries. It was showing on his face, and that was making Spike far more miserable and upset then the beating he’d just taken.

Xander looked up from his handiwork, and his anger instantly gave way to concern. The Talisman he wore flared so warm it almost burned him. Spike's expressive face was like an open book, his eyes alone spoke volumes.

Xander spoke quietly as he cleaned away a few stray pieces of glass from the cuts on Spike's arms. "I'm not mad at you Spike, I'm mad as hell at Buffy. Just as mad as I'd be at you right now if you'd tried to beat her senseless. She had no right to do this. It's not the first time either, is it." At Spike's distressed look, Xander kept pressing him. "I remember how bad your face looked at Dawnie's party. You told us a demon did it. But it was her, wasn't it?" The way Spike refused to meet Xander's eyes told him all he needed to know. "Jesus, Spike. I wish you had felt you could have come to me sooner….. You never should have let it get this bad… But then I'm one to talk, when I never even noticed anything wrong."

Tweezers at the ready, Xander placed Spike's hands palm up in his lap and got the last few slivers of glass out. Then he finished bandaging him up and put away the first aid kit.

Looking down at his hands, Spike hoarsely spoke. "She wouldn't have done it, you know. Lied to all her friends. She'd have calmed down in a day or two."

Xander snorted, his anger resurfacing. "Oh yeah, because Buffy would never lie to her friends….. Mr. Naked Pushups."

Even without a pulse Spike blushed, and hung his head in shame. It was a feeling he'd gotten very familiar with since he'd started being the slayers dirty little secret.

"Don't worry Spike, I get it. Buffy wanted it kept a secret, and Buffy made all the rules. Fuck, you really don’t have the best luck with women, do you?"

"What can I say? I'm love’s bitch – always have been. My love life has never been anything but a bleedin' train wreck. Fact of life, s'all."

"Yeah, well, not anymore. I'm not going to stand for it. You deserve better. You are both my friends now, and I expect my friends to treat each other with a little respect. If she can't deal with that, it's her problem. And she better not make this an "it's him or me" thing, because if she does, I'm choosing you."

Spike looked more astonished then if Xander had said he'd invited Angelus and Dru ever for afternoon tea. His expression melted into one of gratitude and utter devotion, a look that was usually reserved for Buffy or Dawn, and Xander suddenly couldn't breathe.

Blushing to the roots of his hair, Xander rose and murmured "I better heat you up some blood."





Part Ten

As the little microwave heated up the first two mugs of blood, both men took a moment to compose themselves. Feeling more vulnerable then he had since he first got chipped, Spike gathered the tatters of his Big Bad persona around him like a security blanket. He was appalled that he’d let anyone see him so emotionally wounded, least of all the boy. He was William the Bloody for fuck's sake, a Master Vampire, with two, count em', two, slayers to his credit! He was not supposed to feel dangerously close to tears just because some pathetic tosser cared about him!

A pathetic tosser who'd called him his friend, and really meant it. Who'd stood up to Buffy for him! Every time he tried to grasp that concept, his brain would just shut down on him.

Meanwhile, Xander took off the Talisman he'd been wearing and tucked it in a pocket with distaste. It had been a huge help there for a while, but he'd been sickened by some of the things he'd seen. Willow clearly had a problem that was much more complex and went much deeper then a mere magic addiction. And Buffy – sweet baby Jesus. He'd never realized what a pedestal he'd put her on, until she'd smashed all his idols in one fell swoop. Guess being a champion and being a fool wasn't mutually exclusive. It felt disturbingly like seeing your kindergarten teacher drunk and giving out table dances.

He watched the microwave tick down to zero. He was pathetically grateful that he'd gotten Spike a present. If he hadn't had those bags, he might have been sorely tempted to open a vein himself just to get Spike on the mend a little faster. And just how freakin' weird was that? If anyone had told him a year ago that such a thing would even cross his mind, he'd have laughed right in their face, or decked them. But then, who would have thought he'd become such friends with the guy….. Or have dreams about him that would end in mind-blowing orgasms? How the heck, from where they started out, did they wind up here? Well, however it had happened, he was glad.

Xander carried the heated mugs over to Spike.

"Here we are! Drink up, so you can grow big and strong like all the other little vampires, and then kill them."

"I'm not an infant, Harris. I don't take well to being coddled. I've had worse, plenty of times. So you can stuff- "

Spike froze, the unmistakable scent of human blood instantly making every cell in his body ache with hunger. He was almost shaking with need.

"Is that what I think it is?"

Xander beamed. "One hundred percent grade A human. And right now, you need it. So c'mon. Stop staring at it and drink it."

Refocusing his eyes, Spike gazed at Xander gravely. "None of this is real, and I'm still passed out on the floor, aren't I?"

Setting the mugs down, Xander reached over to an unbandaged part of Spike's arm and pinched him.

"Hey!"

"See? I'm as real as it gets, baby. I'd let you pinch me, but I'm betting the chip would fire, and you're in enough pain as it is. So what are you waiting for? Drink it, before it gets cold."

Spike morphed into game face and emptied the first cup with desperation. The velvety texture of it sliding down his throat made him want to moan. He tried to savour the second cup, but his body was silently shrieking for every last drop, as fast as he could get it down.

"I had come bearing good news. I'd thought we could all celebrate together. That idea is pretty shot to hell now, but at least my timing is good. And no reason we can't celebrate on our own, right?" He held out his hand for the empty mug that Spike was methodically licking clean like a big golden-eyed housecat. With a long agile tongue that would make Gene Simmons jealous. "Ready for more?"

"Always." Spike handed over the mug with a dreamy, satisfied smile. He could feel the blood settling in his belly and spreading warmth outwards, coursing through his veins, each injury flaring briefly in pain and then numbing deliciously as his body started knitting itself back together. It had been so long!! Nothing like a starvation diet of pigswill to make a vamp appreciate a damn fine meal! In what seemed like only a few seconds, Xander was there again, shoving another warm sweet-smelling mug into his hand.

"I brought six bags; the last two are in your fridge."

"Not that I'm complaining, mind you, but what are we celebrating that merits such yummy pressies?"

Xander sat beside him and met his eyes with a serious gaze. "You gave Buffy back her freedom. Willow is going to pay rent and take more responsibility around the house, starting today. And Giles is blackmailing the Council into giving Buffy a steady paycheck, so she can concentrate on slaying and raising her sister." Xander traded mugs with the blonde vampire. "Her life won't be such an endless chore anymore. The worst is over, thanks to you. None of this would have happened, if it weren't for you. And after tonight, don't doubt for a moment that I'm going to love reminding the Buffster of that. Over and over."

Xander stared at Spike's game face. He'd seen it before, more times then he could count. But he never realized how expressive it was, how still uniquely Spike. Spike, who had stopped licking his mug to stare back at him.

"S'not polite to stare, ya know. Just don't want to waste any. Not often I get a taste of the good stuff."

"It's not that, it's just.…umm, I mean, ah… I know it's none of my business, but...umm…….oh, never mind."

"Spit it out, whelp. I'm not gonna bite you."

Xander asked hesitantly, "Are those like Ferrengi ridges? I mean, are they all hard and boney, or kind of squishy? Does it hurt to change when your face is banged up like that? Could I…. Could I touch it?"

Spike blinked, and nodded. Xander reached out and very gently ran his fingertips across the ridges on Spike's forehead. They felt both hard and soft, like cartilage covered in muscle. Spike's breath grew shallow and even, and as the boy stroked and explored along his brow and the bridge of his nose, his golden eyes closed and a low purr started rumbling up from deep within his chest.

The vibrations ran straight up Xander's fingertips, through his arm and directly down to his cock, taking most of his blood along for the ride. An enormous rush of lust hit him like an express train, and he pulled back abruptly. He knew Spike would smell his arousal any moment now, and he really didn't want Spike thinking that he was only being nice because he wanted something in return. He grabbed the empty mugs and ran them back to what passed for Spike's kitchen, babbling nervously. His inner babble was hopelessly stuck on "He purrs! How hot is that?"

Spike was dismayed, wondering what he'd done to startle the lad, until he breathed in sharply. Oh, Xander was just aroused... wait a minute. Xander was aroused??

Holy fuck. The whelp wants me! he thought in shock. How... delicious. How wonderfully delicious. He grinned in delight.

He'd liked the boy ever since his wanker of a sire had made a pressie of him, not that he'd ever admit it to anyone. Even with all the odds against him and terror flowing from every pore, the kid had still showed guts and had kept his wits about him. Then Spike got stuck with the sodding chip, and they'd hated each other, even as the insults flung between them got progressively less barbed & more… comfortable. Now, the young man had become the one bright light in Spike's life, outside of lil' bit. Harris never ceased to amaze him with his loyalty, his courage, his kindness. Buffy might be the Chosen One, but Xander was the truly good one. He was also quite the nummy treat under those hideous clothes, always had been. Downright succulent, in fact.

So, Harris just might be hiding a secret desire for his hot tight little body, eh? That suited him marvelously. Xander's past was full of self-absorbed bints demanding to be serviced, but he'd never known what it was like to be wanted for himself, to be pursued, to be slowly and thoroughly seduced. But oh, that was going to change! Spike was already totally committed to the full-scale seduction of one Xander Lavelle Harris, starting immediately. The fact that Xander still panicked at the mere idea of hot man-on-man action just made the chase all the more fun, and the prize to be won that much sweeter. And Xander Harris was quite the prize indeed.

He was going to flatter and charm, pet and pamper his dark jewel until the lad was too bedazzled to remember his own name. By the time he was done wooing his sweet darling boy, Xander would be pleading for his touch… his taste… the feel of Spike's cock filling him deep, as he claimed him right and proper… The vampire realized he was panting with anticipation. Oh, yes, Spike thought with a devious leer. We are both going to enjoy this, dear boy. You have no idea.




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