Rating: Mature for violence and some sexuality
Pairing:  S/X, sort of.
Summary:   Sometimes, silence can be loud, especially for a vampire.
Warnings:  Solo, Voy
Author’s Note:  This was originally written for [info]fanfic_fiesta which is a great community with bimonthly challenges that get your creativity going.  So join!
Feedback:  Yes please! This is only my second complete slash, so I would really appreciate constructive criticism

Screaming Silence


The evening had started out annoying.  Spike had been locked in the bathroom when Xander and the demon bint had started shagging, and hearing those grunts and moans (without being able to do anything) just increased Spike’s irritation.  Lately, his bickering with Xander had gotten worse.  It suddenly seemed that the boy’s presence irritated Spike, putting him on edge.  He’d received a perverse thrill when the two lovers were interrupted by a phone call from Buffy who required donuts and assistance in research.  Cursing under his breath, Xander had opened the bathroom door, face flushed and an erection barely concealed under baggy pants.  The frustration, desire, and anger rolled off of the boy in a intense wave… it was the most delicious thing Spike had smelled in years.

As was the pattern for Scooby evenings, the group researched the demon, hunted it, and killed it.  It was so easy it was almost boring.  But as Xander and Spike had headed back to the basement, Spike could still smell the boy’s arousal.  With the way Anya had been dressed during patrol, it didn’t take a genius to figure out the cause.

They stomped into the basement, Xander heading for the shower while Spike flung himself on the couch.  Laying down, Spike stared at the ceiling, cursing the Scoobies.  He hated the Scoobies and he hated, fucking hated, Xander “White Hat/Demon Bait” Harris.  The boy was a soddin’ nuisance.  Not only did the boy fight like a drugged, two-legged wildebeast (whose primary defense consisted of thrashing about before falling down), but his very presence drove Spike to the edge of sanity.  Tonight it was even worse; the smell of Xander’s fear, arousal, and frustration was intoxicating, heady.

It was quiet in the Harris household, silent to human ears.  Upstairs, Xander’s parents were asleep, their steady heartbeats coming from the living room, followed by a soft, baritone snore.  Then the shower started; combined with the calming tattoo of Xander’s heartbeat, it created a soothing white-noise that lulled Spike’s eyes shut.  Suddenly, the heartbeat changed, speeding up.

Spike’s eyes shot open, diverting all of his attention to the bathroom noises.  Focusing, he could hear the boy’s breath speeding up; breathy with suppressed moans.  The realization hit and tightened his gut; the White Hat was jerking off.  Perhaps it was the fact that Spike hadn’t gotten laid in three months.  Perhaps it was the post-battle adrenaline.  Whatever cause he would later attribute it to, his cock was getting hard.

Rising from the couch, he went and stood by the door.  The pheromones hit Spike’s nostrils, making him groan.  He clenched his jaw, resting his forehead against the bathroom door.  An image popped into Spike’s mind: Xander, standing in the shower, water sluicing off his body while broad tanned muscles clenched as the boy tugged on his cock.  He imagined the brown eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back.  The rise and fall of Xander’s chest matched the light panting that Spike could hear through the door.  The blonde reached down, hurriedly opening the front of his pants.  He wrapped his hand around his cock, squeezing and slowly stroking his cock.  He could hear muffled whimpers, and could imagine Xander biting his lip to stay silent.  Spike swiped his fingers over the head of his cock, collecting the drops of precum, pulling them down his shaft.  Through the door, he could hear Xander’s breath speeding up, his heart beating faster.  Suddenly, Xander let out a tiny moan.

“Stupid blonde,” he whispered.

Spike clenched his jaw as he smelled Xander’s release, thick and heavy.  Grinding his teeth, he came, his release shooting onto the bathroom door.  Looking down at his sticky hands and the now-sticky door, Spike heard the shower shut off.  Using his unnatural speed, he grabbed paper towels from the kitchen to clean himself and the door off.

Tossing the wadded-up paper towels into the garbage, he silently crossed to the hideous orange chair.  He lay down, covered himself with a blanket, and shut his eyes.  Less than a minute later, the bathroom door creaked open, followed by the flick of a lightswitch being turned off.  Xander’s heartbeat was slowing down as he padded towards his bed.  He stopped right in front of the chair.  Spike could feel the whelp’s eyes on him.  The basement was perfectly silent except for the human’s respiration and heartbeat.  After a few seconds that seemed infinitely longer, the boy headed towards his bed.  Spike didn’t want to think about what had just happened. And with decades of experience, he allowed the post-orgasm relaxation to pull him into deep sleep.

But Xander lay awake for several minutes, his brows furrowed in thought. 

“Stupid blue eyes,” he whispered with a yawn.  Less than a minute later, he was asleep.

The End

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