Xander On The Menu


by
Witchway



Interludes

Now that you have your Vampire, Xander,
what will you do next?



Ask Questions.


“So…..you’ve done the bloodclaim before.”

Spike pulled away in a movement Xander was beginning to recognize as the “I don’t want to talk about that” gesture. Lying flat on his back, one hand under his head, Spike stared off into space. Xander copied the pose, refusing to let up on the question. There were things he needed to know.

“You’ll just be jealous” Spike said, finally.

“Won’t.”

“WILL. I tried to hide you so you wouldn’t get caught by Buffy and Littlebit and you stormed out of here in a jealous rage.”

“Ok, that’s fair. But I still need to know what you know. What is it? How did you even learn how to do it?”

Spike sighed, and finally told the tale. He spoke quietly, sometimes haltingly, and Xander couldn’t decide if he were ashamed of his story, or only ashamed that Xander was hearing it. They lay side by side, both on their backs, not looking at each other, not touching. Listening. Learning.

The Bloodclaim was a type of Vampiric Thrall that certain master Vampires passed down from Sire to Childe. Done properly it brought a Vampire a healing, strengthening dose of human stamina, with a little extra thrill (for a while.) More importantly, the human would always come back, at least until the Vampire fed on something else. That was the way a few used the bloodclaim.

Drusilla, on the other hand, had discovered it all on her own.

She had a penchant for innocent young girl, Dru did. Particularly of the religious bent, particularly those preparing to enter the Sisterhood. Drusilla would seduce them, convince them she was a demon straight from hell, and when their heads were completely full of her she would announce that God was utterly and irrevocably Dead.

What happened to the girls afterwards, she didn’t know, and she didn’t care. She would spend a few days BEING the girls herself (her head so full of them) wailing and bemoaning her newly-discovered knowledge that God was Dead…..then get bored, feed on someone else, and forget all about them.

Her Sweet William, on the other hand, had a thing for handsome, well-dressed, starry-eyed effeminate young men who’s fathers could call on at least a score of armed men at a moments notice. “And it had to be a score, no less,” Spike was insistent. Any less than 20, and William found the handsome starry-eyed young man uninteresting. When the father of said handsome starry-eyed young man came to hunt down the demon who had seduced his son into the unthinkable, any less than 20 armed men was a waste of his time.

That was it.

For a while, the Vampire was silent.

Then he dared a look at his human lover and, seeing no disgust or revulsion on his face, crept, cat-like, over to Xander’s side of the bed for affection, but Xander held him at bay. “So, wait…..you fed on young men……until the mob came?”

Spike shot him a “don’t judge me” look and turned away.

“My god, you really are in love with death, aren’t you?”

“In love with life, mate. What’s the point of living forever if you don’t live? Sitting on satin pillows, wearing poofy shirts, that’s not living. Fighting for your life, kill or be killed, knowing that at any minute you might not be immortal any more? THAT’S living.

“Loving, and living. Now that’s the way to spend eternity.”

There was silence for a moment.

“Fighting and fucking.” Xander said, finally.

Spike grinned, then looked confused. “Sorry, was that a request?”

“No, that’s YOU. That’s what you DO. Fighting and fucking, that’s how you’re spending your eternity. That’s your obsession with Buffy right there – you’ve got it bad for her, and she’ll either do you …or... do you in. So either way, I guess, you win. Just like with the boys. Fighting and fucking.”

“Loving and living sounds more poetic,” Spike said pointedly. “Plus, you left out the blossomin’ onions. "





Just Keep Fantasizing

He found Spike at the Bronze, sitting in a secluded corner, watching the goings-on with a sly smile. He was not at all surprised to see Xander approach. In fact, he had a second beer on hand, cold, freshly opened, which he handed the boy. They exchanged a look like a secret code, they clinked glass in an unspoken toast. Xander knelt beside the chair in which the Vampire was lounging.

They traded witticisms, they traded a few barbs. Then Xander said something suggestive (and terribly witty) which made Spike raise an eyebrow.

“Something you want, love?”

Xander, fully confident, and with no hesitation, leaned his long body up to Spike and laid his lips against his ear. “I want you to take me to your crypt, right now. There’s something I need you to do for me."

“What’s that, pet?”

“I’ll show you when we get there.” But the Vampire shook his head and flashed him an evil grin.

“You’re going to have to ask, anyway, love. Why not ask now?”

It was a dare, Xander knew, but the dare only made him bolder. Spike had him locked in an approving, yet predatory gaze, and this time, Xander didn’t drop his eyes.

“I guess you’re getting a little tired of guessing?” but Spike shook his head no.

“Guessing’s fun, love. It just makes me hard when you ask.”

Their eyes locked, Xander leaned in again and said, in a voice only the Vampire could hear … “I want to undo my belt, and take off these jeans, and let you have your favorite spot, and after I feed you, I want to come in your mouth.”

He was rewarded with a raised eyebrow and a look bordering on surprise. And a smile. His lover approved.

But as the blonde leaned in to reply Xander continued, “I haven’t asked before because I’m not going to be able to return in kind. That is, unless, you’d be willing to teach me how.”

A head-tilt, now. Xander was happily receiving all his favorite Spike faces.

“Are you…..didn’t you and your mate…?”

Xander shook his head. The truth was that, at the time, the thought scared him shitless, but he didn’t mention that. “Larry and I didn't have time. We only were together one night, besides, that was, like four….thousand years ago. But if I want lessons, I think you'd be the best choice. You’re the expert, I’m assuming…” Xander drawled,

The Vampire didn’t have to be asked twice. The two disappeared from the Bronze and retired to the cold crypt where Xander gave Spike such mindblowing head that Spike screamed until the glass in the windows shattered and then afterwards swore he would be Xander’s loveslave for life, because, seriously, that was AMAZING, especially for your first time? I am SO calling Angel RIGHT NOW and telling him he had no fucking clue what he was doing, the sodding poof. I’m taking out a newspaper add. IT WAS AMAZING I laughed, I cried, it was better than Cats.

Yup, Xander, the incredibly experienced Vampire is just going to be blown away by you, sure. Keep dreaming.





Talk about Vampires and death

Xander had a fantasy. Using both his hands (but no words, of course) he managed to convey it to Spike. Soon he had Spike’s hand on his hand while his hand was jerking himself off.

Spike had a fantasy, too. It involved lying lip to lip with Xander, one arm around his shoulder, watching his boy jerk himself off, whispering words of encouragement into the warm, open mouth while feeling him bring himself closer and closer, then, just when the release came, covering the human mouth with his and stifling the cry, swallowing it up.

Needless to say, these two fantasies worked out well together.

That night, as Xander was coming his brains out, listening to the noise (partially lost in Spike's mouth) echoing in the underground room, he wondered (as he often did) how much could be heard in the chamber above.

But then, just as Xander’s release had released him, Spike started the third feeding, and that’s when the real noise began.

He came to sometime later (maybe hours, maybe days, Xander could never say) clinging to his lover like a drowning man, trying to remember how to breathe, how to speak and what the hell his name was. When he COULD speak again, looked up at his Vampire and said,

“Promise you’ll do that to me every day of my life until the end of time?”

“You’d get old and die, eventually,” chuckled his lover.

That made Xander think a bit, and after some time, he asked, “Is that why Vampire’s make other Vampires, because they did a bloodclaim?”

“No.”

“No? I mean, didn’t you and Drucilla…..?” Xander chose his words with care, knowing, from his feeding, how passionately Spike loved the mad woman, and knowing also how bitterly she had hurt him.

But he seemed unconcerned. “No, Dru did me all in one sitting. No, Vampire’s don’t change their …… well they might, but it never works out.”

“Why?”

Spike sat up a bit to look down at his human, pushed Xander’s shaggy bangs aside, kissed the forehead, then tapped on it with one finger.

“As long as we’re feeding each other, I’m in your brain, and you’re in mine. But Vampire’s can’t be in each other’s minds, see. Besides, this only lasts as long as you’re only feeding on me ….. you can’t ask a fledgling childe to only eat one thing….it’s like, it’s like a mother nursing her babe all right ‘n proper, but when he’s five she can’t expect him to only want mother’s milk. He’s growin’ and now he wants to eat all kinds of things. Same with a new Vampire, you can’t expect it to stick to one thing, or eat animal blood or some rot.”

Xander pondered this for some time. Then, hesitantly, he ventured another question. “You wouldn’t…..I mean I don’t want you to……I mean if I got hurt…. you wouldn’t ever make me a…”

“No.” Spike said with a finality that almost hurt Xander’s feelings.

“No? But what if I was hurt?”

“No.”

“What if I died?”

“No.”

“What if I was dying?”

“No.”

“What if I was dying…..and I was the last person on earth?”

“No….well…..if you were the last person on earth, yes. But otherwise, no.”

“Why not? I’d make a cool Vampire. I’d make a bad ass Vampire.”

“Whatever you say, love,” Spike teased in a voice that earned him bites in sensitive places.

“So….really? You wouldn’t?” Xander asked, somewhat relieved, somewhat disappointed the arguments he had planned were never used.

Spike propped his head up on one hand and caressed the boy’s face with the other.

“Can’t”

Xander thought for a moment. “……..Buffy?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Xander sighed. “Because she’d stake me.”

Spike scoffed. “NO, because she’d stake ME. She’d find a way around staking YOU, then she’d dust ME for making her do it.”

“Oh, well, it’s good to see you have your priorities in order…..” Xander said sarcastically, which earned HIM bites in sensitive places.





Make sweet love to him in the darkness.

Looking over the windswept moorland, the one they called Sir smiled at the memories of those first times together. They were such gentle times. The Virgin Xander would never have waited so long if he had known that his Vampire, while very experienced (and dear LORD was the man experienced!) was also incredibly patient. Perhaps it was because of the bloodclaim, perhaps it had even caused the bloodclaim, but Spike seemed to regard Xander’s body in such high and reverent regard. As a fighter he trusted him, as a Scooby he admired him. Verbally he was still content to jab at and spar with Xander, but when his hands touched Xander’s body it was as if he held a delicate and holy object. Even from the first time, Xander recalled, he had handled his body as if it were a sacred relic. And when he drank, he held Xander like he was holding the long-searched for Holy Grail.

But patient, yes. Hundreds of years of sexual escapades made William the Bloody the most excellent of teachers. The first few times they came together (Mr. Harris smiled at the memories) were quite innocent, consisting only of touching, holding, and kissing, and if the Virgin Xander wanted more, he was having a hell of a time expressing it. He was certainly holding onto the hope that Spike would just read his mind, or remember the fantasies they shared. Looking back, the one they called Sir realized, his lover was just biding his time, letting Xander work up the courage, letting him come to some decisions for himself.

But that wasn’t quite right, was it? Perhaps it was the first time, or the second? that they came together after the surrender, that Spike reached into his mind and pulled out a secret fantasy. Lip to lip, navel to navel, hands everywhere, in various stages of undress they had kissed furiously and clutched and held and rocked and rutted together, the feeding coming somewhere in the middle, almost as an afterthought. Spike latched onto the mark above Xander’s nipple and held tight, sitting on Xander’s stomach to allow the boy access to his ass, which Xander caressed and fondled and massaged to his heart’s content. Then the spot above Xander’s boxers where it was Spike who clutched Xander’s ass passionately, while Xander stroked Spike’s head and waited for the overwhelming sensations that came with the second bite, waiting, waiting. Then removing Xander’s jeans to find the special place for the third bite which left Xander covered with chills.

And nothing else.

Spike pulled up, panting, all too soon. Neither the room, nor Xander’s head, was spinning. Even his cock lay patiently in one spot, still waiting for release.

“Is that it?”

Spike, still panting, tried to focus his eyes on Xander’s face, and when he succeeded, he smiled. Then he registered Xander’s confusion, and he leaned in for an apologetic kiss. “Sorry, love. I told you, it will never be as intense as it was the first time.”

“Oh ……good.” Xander said, trying to hide his disappointment. Then he became distracted by an evil grin. “What? What are……WHOAH!” Xander yelped as Spike, his smile wide, his eyes lowered, slowly and gently removed his boxers. “What….what…..who?” Xander babbled as he observed (but in no way moved to prevent) the cool fingers wrapping his engorged cock as he lay fully naked beneath his Vampire.

“I told you, pet, it will never be as good as it was the first time.”

“So…….”

“So, I’m giving you *another* first time.” And, with a wicked, open-mouthed smile, Spike swallowed Xander’s cock up to the root.

It was not the first time he had received a blowjob from another man, but Xander didn’t mention it. It might spoil the mood. Besides, he was incapable of speech. And thought, and breathing, and also possibly his heart had skipped a beat. Drowning in sensation he didn’t believe possible, blind in the candlelight, Xander found himself shocked into silence, not even able to moan.

But he was able to move. With no fear of choking his partner (who didn’t need to breath and also possessing NO gag reflex at all) he began to push forward, and soon they were rocking together in a rhythm so profound it must truly be a holy act of worship. Silent still, afraid to break the spell, he held on instead to his lover’s head, and listened to (and enjoyed) his Vampire, moaning and clutching helplessly, as if feasting on Xander’s desire was more pleasurable than any of the drinking he had done before.

Even the low noises Xander made when he came were nothing compared to desperate noises he heard from Spike. Spike who, shaking, drank him down like ambrosia.

Finally the eternal moment was over and he had been caught up in the strong, bare arms again, his face was covered with kisses from trembling lips. But just as he was coming back to himself, just beginning to remember how to move and speak again, he heard the Vampire roar and found himself quite suddenly picked up, thrown back down face first and held there by an immovable arm while, above him, the Vampire jerked off, came, and collapsed on top of him.





You're getting bolder:
make a request.

Looking back, the one they called Sir realized, his lover was just biding his time, letting Xander work up the courage, letting him come to some decisions for himself.

It was the second night, or maybe the third? It was after the first bite, and a few moments of Xander mouthing Spike’s bleeding fingertip, that he found himself completely naked except for his boxers, laying in the crypt lit by dozens of candles, lying underneath the equally naked Vampire, lying on top of the covers. Silently Spike’s hand had slipped beneath the fabric and now he was cupped gently in Spike’s hand -- now cool lips were working their way up his chest, until they lay lip to lip, toe to toe. It was there in the darkness that he heard the words from his fantasies, and they covered with chills the way the feedings never had.

“I want to watch you come. I want to watch your face when you come.”

Xander shivered and buried his hands into Spike’s hair, kissing him hard, making the Vampire struggle to draw away, to actually take in Xander’s face.

Lip to lip they had also been eye to eye, but now Xander moved himself lower on the bed so that Spike’s mouth was level with his forehead. Like this he stayed, while Spike’s skilled hand brought him to the edge, occasionally looking up into his Vampire's face, sometimes hiding his head in the sanctuary of Spike’s neck, but finally forcing himself to pull back finally to let Spike watch his face as he climaxed. Immediately afterwards (as he knew) Spike would be devouring the results, as if the fluid were as precious to him as Xander’s blood, (and for all he knew, it was.)

Then his lover became amorous, his kisses more passionate as he guided Xander’s hand to his own erection. But this time, Xander refused, pulling back, refusing to open his hand.

Spike opened his eyes and frowned, then sulked, finally pushing out his lip in a pout that Xander found almost irresistible. “Tit for tat, mate. S’my turn.”

Xander looked up into his smoky blue eyes and pouted back. “But it’s not fair. You won’t let me watch *your* face, and you *never* let me taste.”

Spike shook his head. “It’s not a sight fit for innocent eyes, don’t worry your pretty little head about it” he added with a grin. “And no tasting. I let you have a taste and I’ll never get rid of you,” but that just made Xander pout more. Then he pulled his hand out of Spike’s grip and, kissing hard, cupped Spike’s face in both hands. Spike tolerated this for a while, pressing his hard-on against Xander’s leg, waiting.

Finally, Xander pulled away enough to catch his breath and started to speak, then faltered. “Yes, pet?” Spike encouraged, and Xander tried again, trying to whisper the question in his ear, or maybe into his open mouth. Then he groaned in frustration. Spike only grinned. “Whatever the question is, pet, I guarantee the answer is yes.”

“Sure about that, are you?” Xander said suddenly, then moved back to place his lips on Spike’s ear……”What if I asked you to teach me…..” he faltered again and lay his head back. Spike’s lips were on his now, whispering into his mouth “Anything pet, just ask.”

He swallowed hard and tried again. “Will you show me ……… how to go down on you?”

Xander was rewarded for his bravery by a firm hand on his chin and a firmer kiss on the mouth. A kiss that ended quickly. It had to end because the Vampire was smiling.

Then he stood up suddenly and climbed off the bed. “No, wait, I meant….” said Xander, but stopped when he realized Spike had only stood up to blow out the candles.

All but two.

Then, grinning, he pulled Xander off the bed and did something that had never occurred to Xander before. He pulled up the covers, and the two men climbed underneath.

There, in the safety of the darkness, under the protection of the blankets, Xander found he wasn’t nervous at all. Spike sat with his back to the ornate headboard, and Xander came to lay between his thighs, smiling at the long, pale uncut shaft in his hand. “I knew you’d look like this,” Xander whispered. “I knew it too,” Spike whispered back, indicating his enjoyment of the sight of his pale member in Xander’s tanned hand. Suddenly Xander sat up, tilted Spike’s chin upward and put his lips against the pallid Adam’s apple, licking and mouthing it for just a moment. “First lesson, love, your mouth actually goes …” Xander grinned and returned to his post and began to plant kisses on his lover’s thighs, working his way to his intended target.

“Shall you lie in my lap? I meant your head upon my lap, did you think I meant country matters?” Spike murmured dreamily, but when Xander looked at him questioningly, he groaned, “Right then, first lesson….”

Again, Xander grinned and began bestow kisses on his lover’s cock, working up and down the shaft, licking at the beautiful bit of skin he found that he knew would be there, the disappearing foreskin, so soft and sensitive and different, and why didn’t he have a foreskin? And now there was a drop of liquid mysteriously appearing on the tip that Xander licked up straightway, then found it very easy to run his tongue around in circles around the tip. The reaction he received from his rakehell made it easier to be daring.

He took the whole head into his mouth, then released it instantly. He was rewarded with a hiss and an arching back, which emboldened him to captured it again and again. By the cover of darkness, under the protection of the covers, Xander found a courage he hadn’t known before, and Spike’s comforting hands on his head, stroking, encouraging, only made the task more enjoyable.

Why had he waited so long to ask?

“Good, now put your hand here,” Spike was murmuring, “Yes, wrap it tight, then put your mouth here….ummmm.” Xander followed instructions well, and found himself improvising, using his tongue and occasionally teeth, knowing somehow what the Vampire liked. Soon his teacher was beyond speech, spreading his arms across the ornate headboard, hands digging into the wood, trying not to move his hips upwards, trying to keep his possition, failing. Soon Xander found himself filling up his mouth more than he thought possible, (but his lover’s reactions made anything seem possible.)

But then, just as Xander thought he might be on the edge of realizing another fantasy, he was pulled up by strong arms, thrown onto the bed in one sudden movement. With a growl, Spike had him pinned with one arm across his shoulders, furiously jerking himself off to come across Xander’s back, his face, as always, hidden from view. Then gone, to the other side of the bed, his back to Xander, for his moment of recovery.

The lesson, apparently, was over.





Ask About The Duration Of The Bloodclaim

“So, when DOES this end?” he said bitterly, then clamped down his teeth – not fair to be so biting with his Vampire, not now, while the silent blond was still recuperating. Stealing a glance, he knew the Big Bad was curled up on the far side of the bed, his back to Xander, in his own private recovery where Xander knew he was not wanted. Never again, not since the first time, was he allowed to hold, to caress, to comfort. Instead he waited patiently, giving his lover the space he needed for, well, whatever he needed it for. His own personal journey from vulnerable back to Big/Bad.

After a few minutes Spike turned onto his back and, cat-like, stretched out his long, lean form, giving Xander an eyeful that he couldn’t help appreciate. He put his bitterness aside as, cat-like, the pale body crept near him for affection.

Could be worse, after all, his lover COULD just turn over and go to sleep.

“So, how long does a bloodclaim usually last?” he asked, causing Spike to pull away again (as he knew Spike would) and take up that pose, that “Don’t want to talk about it” pose, lying on his back, hand behind his head, glaring at the ceiling. Xander copied the pose, laying beside him in silence, waiting for an answer.

“As long as you want it to.” Spike said finally, and Xander could hear resentment in the short reply – not followed by love or pet or even mate. “You can end it whenever you want.”

“I mean, how long does a bloodclaim usually last, in your experience, the ones you did before.” He glanced over at his sullen lover. “Or did they all end in mob-violence?”

That made him chuckle a little. “Not all. Baring armed men and peasants with pitchforks, it lasts about two weeks.”

“No, really.” Xander said insisted, assuming the Vampire was joking.

Two weeks?

It had been two weeks yesterday.

“Really, love. I told you, it’s only temporary. Those bites?” here he leaned over, fingering the marks gently, “They don’t give you chills anymore, do they? No more spinning head, no more instant ecstasy….’ here he looked leeringly down Xander’s body and Xander’s body, much to his mind’s surprise, responded.

Spike grinned. “Soon, you won’t feel anything at all, and you’ll start to wonder why you let me do it in the first place. What were you thinking?” Now his voice was teasing, and his hands were teasing.

“Then you’ll get bored with me, not think about me night and day, not eat your greens the way you should to keep your blood nice and tasty for me.” his voice was cool, but his hands were becoming insistent. Xander remained as he was, on his back, one hand beneath his head, looking at the ceiling. “Soon, it will just get downright boring.” A sly hand moved to more intimate places, but Xander’s hand stopped it.

He felt, rather than saw, the glare he received as Spike went back to his first position, unknowingly copying Xander. They lay side by side that way, silently, studiously studying the ceiling.

“And then you’ll start thinking about your old life.” Spike continued, and a bitterness crept into his voice, as if remembering bitter times. “You’ll think – wait, don’t I have a lady-love at home, waiting for me? And didn’t I have a life before all this began? Then you’ll stop coming every night, and opening a vein every 48 hours, and inquirin’ after my health, and giving me very good reasons why you don’t come ‘round after dark. Until, one day…..”

Xander glanced over and found Spike’s expression had turned from resentful to something else…..

“Until one day, what?”

Spike’s face broke out into a grin, and he turned and pulled Xander into a full embrace. “And then the world ends, and it doesn’t really matter, does it? Come on, Harris, think about it. How long can one go in Sunnydale without a good brawl, eh? Happens on a weekly basis. Any minute down we’ll be mixing it up with someone or something or each other. I haven’t gone to fisticuffs with anything since Glory took me down, and that’s because I’ve been hiding down here. Don’t worry your head about it, love. Just like a told you, one good fight and the adrenaline will wash you all clean.” He started to illustrate what he meant by “all” with his hands, but Xander turned away, suddenly finding his head full of information that needed processing.

Because he DID have a lady-love at home. And a home with a lady-love in it. And while coming to Spike was incredible and amazing and more than a little astounding, in the end, he always went home. Home was where he relaxed and slept and kept all his stuff. Home was where his clothes and his body got clean and he got fed and bathed and shaved and was assured that the workaday world was still working every day. Here, this crypt, this place under the earth, this lair of the Vampire was...

...well....

Right now was the place where he was getting spooned.

They were spooning, Spike’s head above his head, lips resting in his hair. Spike’s arms, unmovable, molded his back firmly into Spike’s chest, Spike’s soft phallus resting snuggly in the crack of Xander’s ass. Which made Xander the little spoon.

Xander had never been the little spoon before.

He observed the white hands caressing him, then turned back to look up into the face that had been nuzzling. He looked down again at the strong arms that gathered him close, now holding him tightly, now relaxing and letting the hands, again, run up and down his nude body with gentle admiration. He looked back to the face, and he knew he wasn’t quite done with this man, not yet, not while there were still a few indecent, decedent and definitely IMmoral and terribly sinful things they could explore together. Maybe for a one or two nights more. Three maybe, if the world lasted that long.

“What?” his Vampire inquired, noting his steady gaze.

Xander reached a hand up and cupped the back of Spike’s head, pulling their foreheads together. He cared about this man, his partner in crime, even if their wicked congress had to end. That was becoming worrisome…....if, God forbid, the world DIDN’T end, how would he disentangle himself from this knot? What would he do about his Vampire?

“What would haven happened if I didn’t come back the third time? Or the fourth? Oh don’t get pissed,” he insisted, too late. He regretted ruining the mood, so when Spike retreated to his “leave me alone” stance Xander lay close alongside him. “I’m not trying to get rid of you, Spike, I told you. I just need to know what you know.”

“I would have gone and feasted on some stupid bird cuttin’ through some dark alley, maybe two or three birds, until I got the taste of you out of my mouth, except, half a tick, I CAN’T go feast on a bird onaccountof this sodding CHIP in my head!” he gestured rudely at the
world, at fate, at the ceiling. Xander waited for a moment.

“So, what would have done, really?”

Spike sighed. “Drink a mess of beef’s blood, go the Bronze and get rip-roaring drunk.”

“But animal blood doesn’t….”

“No, it won’t undo the blooclaim like a human will,” William explained unnecessarily. Xander understood that Spike had feasted on beef’s blood daily, keeping himself full for his friend’s visit. So he could be gentle.

Spike signed. “When you leave I figure I’ll rob a liquor store, take a big bottle of bourbon and climb down to the bottom. “

“That’s all?”

“Well, I’m sure I’ll piss and moan and groan and wax poetic to anyone who’ll listen, and when someone gets tired of listening and throws a punch at me, well I’ll throw a punch and then, and then it will be all rough and tumble and I’ll be washed of all of it! Or else I’ll just get sick of myself and go find myself a fight, maybe loose big at poker, that’s always good for a punch in the face.”

He turned to look at Xander, a peaceful expression on his face. “The rain’ll come love, have no fear. The rain’ll come and wash us all clean.”

Holding his gaze Xander climbed on top of him and claimed his mouth in a kiss, a kiss broken up by a pointy grin.

“What are you grinning about?”

“’ts funny, I even went to the Bronze when I was still beat’ up, trying to smell the blood of the birds there, knowin’ I couldn’t have any, just trying to distract myself from the taste of *you*.”

Xander looked startled for a minute, then grinned back.

“I was wondering, I had a daydream about meeting you there, a very dirty little daydream……”





Spike's Dream.

Xander was just ahead of him, dressed strangly and moving forward, forward, ever forward, in dream-space where William knew he would never catch up. From the atrium to the sanctuary then toward the confessionals, past the font of holy water to the door that would lead them out of the Shrine of the Infant to the hillside facing west……”Alexander!” William was calling, yet in his head he knew that might not be Alexander Bloody Harris at all, since the young man in front of him was far too lean, too angular, and much too well dressed. If they were in the Shrine of the Infant that meant this was Praga mater urbium, and as hot and hard as he was for the boy so far ahead of him, that boy was not the Slayer’s boy.

But did it matter? This was a dream, after all. And the boy that had just slipped out the door wanted William just as bad as Alexander Bloody Harris did. The boy he was chasing wanted to take a man to bed too, didn’t find the idea too repugnant in this modern world, wasn’t too adverse to finding out if he could feel in the arms of another man what he wasn’t feeling in the arms of a woman. The boy in front of him, whoever he was, wanted an education, wanted it bad, and William the Bloody was dying to provide.

Spike could all ready feel that lithe body underneath him, could all ready hear the beautiful sound of the sighs and the moans as his student’s defenses dropped one by one. He barreled out the west door, not knowing if the sun was rising or setting, only knowing he had to hurry if he was going to catch his love….

But Drusilla was there, of course. Drusilla who had hurt him beyond measure, there to become yet another distraction in his lovely dream.

“Won’t last,” she spat at Spike who merely shouldered her aside, looking in confusion around him, trying to decide what tunnel to take. The hillside and the west wall of the church that protected him from the light of the sunrise was missing, which meant he was out of Prague and back underneath Sunnydale. “Why do you bother?” she was scolding as Spike got his bearings and began to start down the earthen tunnel that would take him back to his own crypt.

Drusilla grabbed his arm and held him still. He was unable to pull away from her….she had always been stronger than he was…..so he turned and faced her for the moment.

“Won’t last,” she started again.

“Nothing ever does,” he spat back. “Grab it when you can get it, love. Now, don’t you have something with antlers waiting for you somewhere? Go flirt with him for a while, see how long that lasts.”

She let him go with a hiss of disgust. As he turned and jogged down the tunnel he could still hear her warning. “Won’t last, Sweet William. The bloodclaim never does!”

He ignored her. She was easy to ignore. He rushed down his home tunnel headlong, no need to hide his anticipation. He was headed toward his crypt, which meant he was headed toward his bed, which meant he was headed toward Alexander Bloody Harris. And Alexander Harris had made up his mind. Like Spike’s well-dressed young man in Prague, Xander had decided that taking a bloke to bed wasn’t such a horrible thing, on the contrary might prove to be a quite pleasant thing indeed. Xander had decided that there had been more things in heaven and earth than he had dreamt of in his philosophy, and Spike wanted to prove him right. He wanted to be there to show him just how right he was.


Xander was just ahead of him, dressed strangly and moving forward, forward, ever forward, in dream-space where William knew he would never catch up. From the atrium to the sanctuary then toward the confessionals, past the font of holy water to the door that would lead them out of the Shrine of the Infant to the hillside facing west……”Alexander!” William was calling, yet in his head he knew that might not be Alexander Bloody Harris at all, since the young man in front of him was far too lean, too angular, and much too well dressed. If they were in the Shrine of the Infant that meant this was Praga mater urbium, and as hot and hard as he was for the boy so far ahead of him, that boy was not the Slayer’s boy.

But did it matter? This was a dream, after all. And the boy that had just slipped out the door wanted William just as bad as Alexander Bloody Harris did. The boy he was chasing wanted to take a man to bed too, didn’t find the idea too repugnant in this modern world, wasn’t too adverse to finding out if he could feel in the arms of another man what he wasn’t feeling in the arms of a woman. The boy in front of him, whoever he was, wanted an education, wanted it bad, and William the Bloody was dying to provide.

Spike could all ready feel that lithe body underneath him, could all ready hear the beautiful sound of the sighs and the moans as his student’s defenses dropped one by one. He barreled out the west door, not knowing if the sun was rising or setting, only knowing he had to hurry if he was going to catch his love….

But Drusilla was there, of course. Drusilla who had hurt him beyond measure, there to become yet another distraction in his lovely dream.

“Won’t last,” she spat at Spike who merely shouldered her aside, looking in confusion around him, trying to decide what tunnel to take. The hillside and the west wall of the church that protected him from the light of the sunrise was missing, which meant he was out of Prague and back underneath Sunnydale. “Why do you bother?” she was scolding as Spike got his bearings and began to start down the earthen tunnel that would take him back to his own crypt.

Drusilla grabbed his arm and held him still. He was unable to pull away from her….she had always been stronger than he was…..so he turned and faced her for the moment.

“Won’t last,” she started again.

“Nothing ever does,” he spat back. “Grab it when you can get it, love. Now, don’t you have something with antlers waiting for you somewhere? Go flirt with him for a while, see how long that lasts.”

She let him go with a hiss of disgust. As he turned and jogged down the tunnel he could still hear her warning. “Won’t last, Sweet William. The bloodclaim never does!”

He ignored her. She was easy to ignore. He rushed down his home tunnel headlong, no need to hide his anticipation. He was headed toward his crypt, which meant he was headed toward his bed, which meant he was headed toward Alexander Bloody Harris. And Alexander Harris had made up his mind. Like Spike’s well-dressed young man in Prague, Xander had decided that taking a bloke to bed wasn’t such a horrible thing, on the contrary might prove to be a quite pleasant thing indeed. Xander had decided that there had been more things in heaven and earth than he had dreamt of in his philosophy, and Spike wanted to prove him right. He wanted to be there to show him just how right he was.

"There's quite a FEW things that didn't show up in your philosophy, love. Let me point them out to you, one at a time."

Good reason to get back to that crypt, oh yes.

But there was more than that, if Spike was willing to admit it. Much more than an eager student waiting for him in that candle-lit room.

Because the crypt was where one Alexander Bloody Harris had walked up to him in self-assured strides, grabbed the back of Spike’s head and yanked it back for a full-frontal-assault-kiss, a kiss that Spike had relieved in his memories, both waking and asleep, since the day it happened.

The crypt was where one Mr. Harris had picked up him by his armpits and tossed him onto the bed in a move that almost stopped his non-beating heart.

The crypt was where Spike’s darkest fantasies were being played out in his rebellious brain day after day after day as he hid, drinking the hours away, waiting for his boy to return. The dark fantasies where Xander pushed him down, held him down, demanded sexual favors and then took them without waiting for consent. The dark fantasies where he allowed his boy to do to him what no other man had done before….

….no other man since Angelus.

The tunnel he was running down was getting longer and longer, the memories of Xander so fresh in his mind were getting stronger. He could practically smell the boy’s hair, feel it against his face, and his entire body was growing hard in anticipation. And it was no wonder the smell of his boy was so thick in his nostrils….the human had, after all, marked this tunnel the way a dog marked his territory. Not just when relieving himself (Spike had personally dug a nice square bit of room for him to use for that purpose….all a ploy to keep the boy there longer in the evenings) but also by leaving his seed for Spike to find the night he thought he had been pushed aside for the Slayer. Ah, yes, Spike remembered. Spike remembered it well.

“Gonna hunt you down, pet,” Spike whispered to himself, to the Xander-smelling tunnel, slowing down in relief when he saw the tunnel was coming to an end and the light of the candles of his own crypt were flickering in the distance. “Gonna catch you up, gonna spread you out, gonna eat you up, gonna take my
time….” he purred, was purring as he entered the crypt and found his boy all ready in his arms, his hair against Spike's face, but now he was pulling away from his embrace, pulling out of the arms, and asking about his jeans.

“Whanna when where you going?” he found himself asking, trying, again, to get his bearings. His crypt was lit by two guttering candles, his naked boy had been held securely in his arms underneath the newly stolen covers, but now his naked boy was pulling away and attempting to find his clothing.

“I need to go, and I’m freezing, and did we leave my jeans up there?” Xander was asking, looking towards the upper crypt in dismay, and Spike only smirked in reply. He watched his lover’s back as he got dressed from the waist up, still smiling at the memory of HOW Xander’s pants had come to be laying on the crypt floor above. He tried to erase his smile when Xander turned around to look at him.

“What’s so funny?”

“Sorry. I ripped up those ugly pants while you were sleeping….maybe you have to go home without them.”

“Stranger things have happened,” Xander replied, unperturbed, and reached down to retrieve his socks from the floor.

“When are you coming back?” Spike asked, wincing as he said the words, trying to bite his mouth even as the words came out. ”Don’t ask stupid questions,” Drusilla was saying in his head, “Don’t ask for answers you don’t want to hear, and whatever you do, don’t believe anything he says.” Spike tried to fight the words out of his head, tried to keep his expression passive, not betraying the battle of words going on in the dream that still lingered in his head, not betraying the pointless hope and the expectation of rejection that was making his dead heart pound as he waited for the answer.

Xander obviously remained oblivious to the tempest going on in the demon’s mind behind him. Instead he was looking down, checking his mental calendar for the answer to Spike’s questions. “In two days I guess, but I always say that, don’t I? No, wait! Today’s Saturday….” Xander grinned and leaned in, as if to share a secret. “I’ll be back tonight, but I won’t be around on Sunday.”

“Going to church then?” Spike remarked, as casually as his leaping heart would allow.

Xander snorted. “As if. You know the only church I go to is that non-denominational one, the one with all the crucifixes, and that’s just because they have such a big holy water fount. No, I’m not coming Sunday night because….”

Here he leaned in closer, and Spike tried to keep his face disinterested. Still, he couldn’t help but reach up and stroke the disheveled head of his lover.

“…..I have to go to bed early. I’m doing an early shift at the new site Monday morning, and if I can clock in at 6 AM I’ll be clocking out at two.” He winked.

Spike looked baffled. “So?”

“So??” Xander pulled up, indignant. “So, if I knock off work early, and if you weren’t doing anything in particular, I could drop by during the day.”

“To do what?” Spike continued, going his best (and almost succeeding) to look indifferent.

“To give you a nooner! Well, a two-thirty-er I guess,” Xander grinned, then turned around to put on his shoes. “Unless, of course, you’re not going to be here, if you’ve got something else to do….”

Spike tried his best to scoff. “What do you think I do all day, Harris? Sit around drinking the hours away, waiting for you to show up? I have an unlife to live, you know.”

“What *do* you do all day?” his boy was asking, standing up, looking singularly ridiculous sans pants. “Plan out which Bed Bath and Beyond you’re going to knock over?”

“Got to,” Spike said in mock-irritation, pulling up the sheets he was under, shaking them in distaste. “Some wanker came all over these….”

Xander’s face broke out in a huge grin. He leaned over the bed and took Spike’s face in his hands, whispering “And whose fault is that?” before kissing him good-bye.





Set some groundrules.

Splendidly bare, as pale as the moon, sharp as winter, Spike crawled menacingly towards him. Slowly, casually, almost indifferently, Xander laid himself down, stretching himself underneath. But when Spike’s hands began to unbutton his shirt, slipping passed the fabric to caress the skin beneath, his breath caught in his throat. Soon his nonchalant expression would be impossible to maintain, soon he would be nothing but whimpering and pleading and lip-biting, tongue-tied, searching for the courage to voice his clumsy requests, his secret, awkward wishes.

Provided, of course, he could remember English.

But for now, he could pretend to be in control. Carelessly, randomly he stroked his lover’s body, the incredibly hard chiseled chest, the coiled muscles in his biceps, his lean sides, the hollows of his bruised hipbones, the lovely soft down of his treasure-line…

Spike moaned in appreciation, closing his eyes, giving Xander the little bit of courage he needed. With calculated casualness he reached out for Spike’s pale cock, looking down, passed his chest, and admiring the cool, smooth length. “Hello, beautiful.” He said, obviously addressing the loveliness growing in his hand.

“Hello, beautiful,” Spike replied, looking directly into his face.

The Vampire’s stance had been predatory, now his hands were possessive. He caressed and stroked and held Xander’s head, his hair, his face. Xander addressed his cock.

“Miss me?”

“Hell yes.” Spike lifted his chin and claimed his mouth, but Xander only waited patiently until he was released, then looked down again, directing all his endearments directly to Spike’s member. Come to think of it, he could make a few requests this way, too, a far easier task than addressing the Vampire himself.

“And how have you been today?”

“Unhappy,” Spike whispered into Xander’s ear, licking, biting, trying to get his attention. Without intending to, Xander’s other arm wrapped around Spike’s head and his fingers played with the hairs at the base of the hard neck, but he didn’t stop addressing the part of Spike he held in his hand.

He was definitely on to something, here.

“And what have you been up to while I’ve been gone?”

“Getting lonely, getting hard, getting disappointed, getting soft again, saving it all up for you.” Now Spike was trying to rub against his legs, but with subtle movements Xander kept him in hand, kept him in view.

“Is there something you want to do to me tonight?”

Lots of things,” the Vampire growled, and Xander knew the conversation would soon be cut short.

“Do you want to come in my mouth tonight? Do you want me to wrap my lips around you? Do you want to fuck my mouth? Do you want to come on my tongue…” And if not, why the HELL not? Xander wanted to add, but didn’t get the chance, his chin was suddenly in the iron grip of a very aroused Vampire, and now he could see nothing but the Vampire’s face.

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth, Harris?” his Vampire teased before snogging him into oblivion.

“No.” was all Xander had time to say before the snogging commenced.


Later, maybe hours later, when the groping and the grunting and the bruising, crushing kisses were over and promises were made, then broken, and Xander found himself, once again, thrown face down, almost in rejection, and held there with a crushing arm while Spike brought himself to his own climax out of view, when THAT was over, Xander decided to lay down a few ground rules.

“SO,” he said, when he thought Spike was probably finished with his private recovery, “You know how you don’t want me crying out “Jesus Christ” or “God in Heaven” while we’re making out?” (Making out, that was a good word. He wasn’t sure if they were really making *love*, not yet.)

His Vampire was stretching like a cat and grinning ruefully. “Don’t need to be spanked with a crucifix when I’m feeling horny, love. Don’t get me all worked up and douse me with holy water. Turns me off. Might as well start chanting the Latin Mass.”

“Makes sense – if your hating the crucifix, you’ll naturally hate the person on it. So that’s the rule, don’t blaspheme in the front of the Vampire. And don’t bring up my parents during sex.”

Spike was startled by the harshness in Xander’s voice, the coldness of his demeanor. He started to crawl, cat-like, to lay on top of his lover and plant little kisses across his chest, which Xander ignored as he spoke.

“Don’t call me baby, don’t ask who is my *daddy*, and for Jesus Christ’s sake don’t ask my about my mother.”

“Touchy,” Spike teased, trying to break him from his foul mood, to no avail. “What…..are they evil?” He flashed an evil grin. “You want I should kill them for you?”

That worked. Xander chuckled and looked away.





Bring up Buffy.

“NO. No, they are not pure evil, and no, please don’t kill them. Just don’t mention them. My parents and I….it’s not like you and your mother, it’s not like…..what?” Now it was Spike who was gone, Spike who lay on his back and exuding cold.

“Not like what? Questionable? Iffy? Debated by the wags in the neighborhood? What were you going to say?”

“I was going to say devoted.” said Xander gently. There were so many things he knew, things he knew about Spike’s past, things he had been told and things he just knew since the feedings, things that no one, not even Buffy or Drusilla knew. The knowledge was sacred to him, precious, intimate. How it came to him, or when, he couldn’t say, only that he knew what he knew when he said it.

And as he was saying it, things became clearer that he hadn’t seen before.

“There was nothing wrong with that…..you’re supposed to love your family, and you’re family is supposed to love you. They’re not supposed to ignore you and let you fend for yourself unless they’ve suddenly come up missing one whipping boy,” here Xander stopped, swallowing some bitterness, and began again.

“You were devoted to your mother, that’s what normal people do, isn’t it? And when you were grown, you didn’t have someone else to be devoted to yet, so you stayed devoted to her. Then your mother left you, which had to happen eventually, I mean she wasn’t going to live forever, was she?”

A shadow passed the Vampire’s face, but he didn’t respond.

“Then you found a girl to be devoted to, maybe not in the normal, old-fashioned way, I mean, but still……..your mother stopped being the center of devotion in your life and your girlfriend was. That’s NORMAL, that’s the way it’s supposed to be, I mean, it’s in the BIBLE or something, oh, sorry…."

But the silent shape laying next to him shook his head, shrugging off the comment. There was a wistful look in his face, as if reliving pleasant memories. Xander wondered if he had ever had a conversation like this before.

“And you were utterly devoted to her, Drusilla, even if she was still devoted to someone else, but you were together for a long time, longer than most. But all that time, you were devoted to death, too, your own……..demise. So when Drusilla left you….”

“It was because I wanted Angelus dead,” Spike broke in, surprising Xander with the presence of his voice, when a moment ago he had seemed so far away. “I would have done anything to get rid of that ponce, I did it for us, but she couldn’t see that. How could she? She loved him.”

There was a silence, then the word “Bastard” was growled. Both men exchanged a look and a laugh. They had both spoken the same sentiment at the same time.

“Right there with you, Spike. Dedicate your life and risk your neck for one woman and all she wants is the bang the big poof with the hair that sticks straight up. Been there, done that, signed the guestbook.

“But…..you see what happened, don’t you? You didn’t have a girl to be devoted to, but you were still devoted to death. So you came back here, found the slayer, tried to get yourself killed or kill her trying. But then they put a chip in you, and you had to drop out of the fight. But you’re still devoted to her, because she’s still the Slayer, and, well, hell, there’s still a chance she could kill you.”

Spike grinned. “Yeah, stupid bint, she still could, couldn’t she? You said it best, mate. Either she’ll do me in, or I’ll do her in, or we’ll just do each other. Either way, I win.” His face looked peaceful at the prospect, and Xander merely shook his head.

“It makes sense, now, why you couldn’t kill her when you had the chance. No,” he said, as the Vampire silently pointed to the place in his head where the chip was hidden. “No, I think the plan with the shotgun would have worked…..”

Spike sat up suddenly, looking surprised. He had mentioned Drusilla and Angel and his mother before, but he had never spoken of the shotgun to anyone.

“No, it would have,” Xander continued, unaware that he was speaking from a knowledge that had come completely from the bloodclaim. “It probably would have caused so much damage to your brain that you’d be a vegetable for eternity, but it would have worked, but you didn’t do it.

“Because, if you had, what then? Who would you be devoted to then? I mean, sure, another Slayer would show up somewhere in the world, but who cares? She wouldn’t be Buffy.”

Silence. Spike lay down again, and there was silence in the candlelight as each man contemplated the Slayer.

“She is amazing, isn’t she?” one murmured, and the other agreed. “She is one of a kind.”

They were both silent for a time, and would have fallen asleep like that that, side by side, but Spike sat up first and pulled his human lover into his arms. “You know, you know too much, pet.”

“Are you going to have to kill me?” It was an old joke, and if Xander’s brain tried to point out why the joke was not funny, he was too busy snuggling in as the smaller spoon to care.

“No, that’s not it. You know because you see.” Spike said, caressing the boys face, touching, and then kissing, his eyelids. “You see what other people don’t see. It’s your gift. Your ex-demon lady is one lucky girl.” With that he snuggled into Xander’s neck and did not move until morning.

He did not notice that Xander was now wide awake.

Because Spike was right.

He did have a lady-love at home, an ex-demon lady-love, waiting for him.

As for Spike, he still had an unholy obsession with the Slayer, and, in time, he was going to remember how important it was to him.

This can’t turn out well, Xander thought, completely aware of the still, silent being that was the big spoon even now. At some point, this has to end.





Work Up The Courage to Ask For Something *Big*

The kissing continued, the hands groping and finding and kneeding, bodies needing, but when it became clear that needs were going to soon be met, Xander pulled away. He was laying on top of his Vampire, with both hands buried in the bleach-tortured hair. He pulled up on his shoulders and tried to catch his breath.

“I……I’m trying …” he whispered, weaving his head aside to avoid an amourous mouth, “trying…..to work up the nerve……….to ask you something.”

His lover laid his head back obediently, relaxing with an open-mouth smile.

“What?”

“I *love* it when you work up your nerve to ask me for something.”

“What if it’s not what you think? What if it’s something……” but there was little point it such pretentions. He had yet to make a request the Vampire hadn’t been ready, and eager, to fulfill. Now Spike was kissing him on the mouth, strange, little tonguing kisses. Like a cat lapping up milk, the cool tongue poked into his mouth over and over and over, requiring no movement from him at all. He had been kissed like this before, and he found the sensation curious and pleasant.

“Um, Spike?” he asked, trying to speak around the tongue.

“Yes, love?”

“It’s hard to talk to you with my mouth full.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry mate. Right……working up your courage to ask something?” he asked slyly, now rotating his hips beneath Xander’s body, slowly grinding against his warm skin…..”NOW what are you doing?”

“Trying to help you muster your courage, trying to buck you up.”

“Please stop.”

With a look that would melt rock, the Vampire lay, obediently, still.

But dammit, his eyes still teased, so Xander shut his eyes tight, put his lips against Spike ear, and threw caution (and sanity) to the wind.

“I want you inside me. I want to feel you inside me.”

“No.”

“Oh Spike, I want you so…..wait, what?”

“I said no, pet.”

His eyes were serious, his face was calm. Xander felt himself deflate like a balloon.

“Wha…wh……why?”

Spike looked at him compassionately and took Xander’s head in both hands. “You’re getting confused, love. Taking my dreams from me….didn’t I tell you? That you’re hearing the wanting in my head? We keep getting the blood tangled up inside each other, and you’re getting all your ideas mixed up with mine.”

“No……….no! I remember the dream! I remember that I said, I mean, well, SOMEONE said………wait, what….what do you mean?”

“What I mean is…I want to feel YOU inside of ME.” And while Xander’s poor brain was trying to process that piece of information, Spike flipped him over, landing on top, and captured his mouth in an all-consuming kiss.





What the Hell, Life Is Short, Lose Your Virginity

There are many interesting things on Spike’s night table, want to see? There is a ivory-handled knife carved into the shape of a nude woman’s torso. There’s the alabaster dish, but let’s skip over that for the moment. Now there seems to be a tall glass jar with a pewter lid. The tiny figure sitting on the lid seems to be some kind of horny satyr.

Sitting on top of Xander in all his naked glory, Spike took the jar from the table and presented it before Xander who, in an effort to maintain his sanity, had decided that he had, in fact, all ready lost his mind and was in a padded room somewhere, hallucinating.

“Do you know who this is, pet.”

“One of your horny demon friends?”

“It’s the god, Pan. In the old days, he was always portrayed like this. Doesn’t Red tell you these things?”
“If that’s what god looks like, “ Xander said, his throat dry, his voice like sandpaper, “I would have gone to church more often.” His tone was desperate, his eyes were pleading. Did Spike just say what he couldn’t have possibly said? And was Xander at the age of Twentywellnevermind going to lose his virginity here and now, or not? “So, why the religious lesson?”

With the devil’s own grin, Spike removed the lid, put thumb and two fingers into the liquid inside, and proceeded to apply it liberally to Xander’s erect cock.

Yes, certainly, this was insanity incarnate, and Xander hid behind closed eyes, hid his hands in the space he had found where the ornate headboard met the mattress, hung on desperatly to the wood and assured himself that this was only a fantasy. He KEPT assuring himself the same while he heard Spike doing GOD-knows-what (but involved some more of the substance from the jar and some small moans.) But now Spike was leaning across him to return the jar to the side table and, with infinite tenderness, took his greased cock in hand and put it someplace entirely new.

“Open your eyes, pet,” he was whispering, and “OK” Xander was whimpering, hoping perhaps his lover wouldn’t notice that he, in fact, still had his eyes closed (if I can’t see him he can’t see me!) “Please, love?” Spike was whispering, and because he said please, Xander tried.

Piercing eyes. Terrifying intensity. The strange idea that Spike was looking at him and no one had ever really *looked* at him before, but then an incredible sensation overcame him and he knew nothing, because he was sliding with impossible perfection into something short of pure heaven.

It was so smooth and so solid and so *tight.* Spike hands were on his chest, pushing off over and over and over, riding him into oblivion, and Spike was growling and snarling, and Spike was coming, and Xander could certainly have seen it if only he could find his eyelids and make them work, because just now his brain was exploding and he was coming too.

There was darkness, but eventually, he came to.

Spike was lying on top of him, shaking a little, at least that’s what Xander assumed the tiny, jerking movements must be. Xander’s eyes flew open when he realized that Spike’s sacred recovery, that which was always done away from him, was currently occurring on right top of his chest. Opening his eyes did him no good, however, since, at some point during his trip into insanity, the two candles had gone out. In the darkness he wanted to embrace his lover, comfort him the way he had the first time, hold and sooth and reassure. But in the end he lay his hands at his sides, waiting, as he always did, for Spike to come back to him.

It didn’t take long (it never did.) Spike’s neck relaxed, and his head, which had been curled down, now raised. He planted silent little kisses upon Xander’s chest. Then the two men disentangled themselves with some difficulty, Xander wrapping his arms around his Vampire, burying his head in the strong, lean chest, hiding in the long arms. Soon Spike had him in the whole-body embrace of comfort (the safest kind) and only then did Xander find it safe enough to be speak.

“Holy shit.”

“You’re welcome.”

Both men chuckled, then laughed, at the absurdity of the conversation.

“Thank you,” Xander whispered, when the laughter subsided.

“For corrupting you?” his Vampire purred.

“For taking my virginity,” Xander whispered against his lips and “Oh, pet,” was what he heard before being pulled into a long, exploring kiss. There was more touching, more stroking, and even more sighs and moans in the darkness.

“Was it everything you wanted?” Spike was asking now, stroking Xander’s hair, lips against his ear. “Was it everything you dreamed of?”

“I had no expectations.”

“Liar.” Spike rose to take up his lighter and re-light the candles, many this time. Xander noticed in the flickering that the first two candles, the two that were lit and closest to the bed, had been knocked to the ground. When had that happened?

Then Spike was sliding next to him again, pulling him close, teasing. “I’ve been in your head, love, I’ve been in your brain. I’ve seen the dirty things you think about at night.”

Xander stopped Spike from talking with his tongue and his lips, and when the kiss was over, he explained, “I never dreamed there could be anything like this.” and tucked his head into the safety of Spike’s chest, under his chin, vowing never to leave that safe place again.

Although, sometime later, he did emerge to whisper, “You’ll always be my first. Whatever else happens to us, I’ll always remember that.”

“Rain’ll come,” Spike murmured, half asleep. “Always does. Rain’ll come, ‘n wash us all clean.”

“Even so,” Xander insisted. “I’ll always REMEMBER.”

“Whatever you say, pet.”





Hold Him In The Rain

The problem with living in a cemetery is that other people were there, usually for other purposes.

People came there to take long walks, to visit their dead, to track down humans and kill them, to run for their lives while screaming, and sometimes they even came for funerals.

Although who the hell held a grave-side ceremony at dusk?? They must be Sunnydale newbies, Xander and Spike agreed, as they returned from the Bronze and waited in the pouring rain for the ceremony in front of Spike’s front door to end. Right now it would impossible to get into Spike’s crypt without being spotted. They could have taken the tunnel that let out behind the Sanders’ crypt, but Xander was wet, and not looking forward to digging around in the dirt and thus be covered with mud before retiring to Spike’s bed.

So they stood, huddled together in the cold rain, under the edge of a dripping tree. Other mourners, to numerous for the tent, also stood on the outskirts of the ceremony, showing their loyalty to the deceased by standing in the rain under their umbrellas, trying to hear the singing coming from under the crowded tent. They huddled against their partners for comfort and for warmth, so Spike and Xander followed suit. Xander’s new black-and-billowing coat came in handy – he could almost wrap it all the way around himself and Spike, provided Spikes arms were around his waist and their bodies pressed against each other.

So they stood there as the songs from the tent went on and on. Xander would be growing bored, if it weren’t for the close proximity of his new lover. Spike’s head leaned against his lips, Xander’s lips against his skin. They breathed in each other’s scent. Sometimes they spoke, sometimes they kissed, but mostly they held. Xander tried to savor the moment.

They’re time together couldn’t last much longer, and what time there was left was spent fucking like bunnies, and soon these quiet moments, Xander knew, would be rare. When it was all over (and it would be, soon) he hoped he could remember the sensations he was cataloging now. Spike’s smell. Spike’s voice. Spike’s hard body pressed up against him, Spike’s soft skin beneath his lips. The taste of rain on skin.

But Spike was not enjoying it. “Let’s just take the tunnel, love,” he murmured, adding a few other choice words for the endless service. “Not yet, I need to ask you something” Xander improvised, hoping to buy time. Spike agreed to stay.

Which meant Xander needed to think of something good to ask.

And soon…..the Vampire was getting curious.

“So…..” Xander said, wrinkled his brow in thought, then started again. “So,”

“Yeah, mate?” Spike was grinning.

“So……” Xander looked up into the sodden, dripping sky. He felt the cold drizzle cover his face. It would be cold in the crypt, too, but Spike’s vigorous lovemaking would certainly keep him warm. But said exercise would certainly distract him from talking, which meant now was a better time than any.

“So,” Xander said, lowering his head to look Spike directly in the eye, inspiring a smirk from the wet Vampire, a smirk which would change, as he spoke, into a look more serious.

“So, end of the world.”

“Yeah, end of the world, must be Tuesday.”

“But really, possibly the real thing this time. Which makes a guy think…..think of things he’d like to do before he dies.”

“Things he’d like to do…….but is he sure he wants to do them with me?” A sly look was coming over the Vampire’s wet face. “No, I want to do them with Bob Barker, of course I want to do them with you. There were no other guys after Larry, you know. I wasn’t interested in other guys, until I started feeding you.”

Xander looked out over the dripping cemetery and sighed – he had asked once before, and had been turned down. And while the man who had turned him down had promptly turned him over and proceeded to blow the top of his head off, the word “No” had still defeated him. Deflated him. It wasn’t the kind of question you wanted to ask twice. But maybe fortune favored the brave, (and Spike’s favors were undeniably amazing) so he screwed up his courage and tried again. He leaned his head down to touch Spike’s forehead, and whispered as their soggy hair dripped into their conspiracy.

“You know, it took me a lot of time to work up the courage to ask you, to tell you that I wanted ..... to …………….. to feel you inside of me. And you turned me down.”

“Had to, love. Have to know you know the difference between what *I* wanted, and what *you* wanted.”

“I KNOW what I want right now. You know I’ve never, I mean………..and I know I’m nervous, since it might…….ah shit.”

“I know, love,” Spike said, and his face was serious and understanding. “I know about your mate, and I’m *glad* you didn’t let him do it….” he whispered (His face was still serious, but his wicked hands were sneaking down and beginning to caress Xander’s ass.) “It’s good you didn’t let him. I mean, I’m sure the boy was a decent bloke ….” here Spike took Xander’s body in a possessive grip with both hands. “…., but he was still just a boy. Didn’t know what he was doin’. You wouldn’t want him to be your first, believe me.”

“I need someone with more experience?” Xander growled, but if it was in defense of Larry, or in jealously of whomever Spike had experience with he couldn’t tell.

“Don’t take on so, love, I’ve been around a few hundred years, you know I’ve had to entertain myself somehow.

“So,” Xander leaned in closer to almost whispering his confession in Spike’s ear. “So, you wouldn’t mind, I mean, what I’m asking you is….”

He lifted his face up to the rain, coming down harder now. To admit to weakness in the presence of the Vampire, even his Vampire, was hard work.

But good things were worth working for, right?”

“I need to ask,” he said, but got distracted by the shorter man pressing lips and teeth against his chin, tasting the moisture there.

“I need to know," he said finally, “That you know, that you want…..”

“I want to be your first time, pet.”

“But…what if….”

“Yes, pet. The answer is yes.

“Then, you won’t get mad if I chicken out?”

Spike smiled against his cheek, and his sinister tone sent chills down Xander’s spine. “You’re a brave lad. I don’t think you’ll chicken out on me. But if you have a change of heart, just say the word.”

He shut his eyes tight. “This is crazy,” he thought, but out loud he only asked, “What is the safety word?”

“Stop.”

Xander opened his wet eyes and looked into serious blue ones. Spike was solemn and still, but as Xander held his gaze, he broke into a wicked smile. Unwrapping his arms, exiting the relative safety of the coat, the wet blonde took Xander’s hand in his and, deciding the remaining mourners were too distracted by their grief to notice, he led Xander into the downpour.





Losing Your Virginity (in the other sense of the word)

It was COLD in the crypt, and Xander was out of his wet clothes in record time, diving under the blankets. He had time to acknowledge that new, heavier blankets had been added before a stark-naked Spike (the best kind!) attacked his head with a coarse towel, rubbing the hair roughly in an effort to dry it, then his own, before he dove in after him. Their cold bodies came together but produced little heat. Then the feeding began, and Xander forgot about everything else.

Spike pulled his boy on top of him and began massaging his ass with a will, kneading and working the muscles, pressing in strange places, relaxing muscles Xander didn’t know existed, all the while moving Xander’s body up while he fed. Once. Twice. The third bite was taken from the center of Xander’s chest, while all the time the hands worked, pushing and pressing on his ass while Xander pressed an aching erection into a hard chest. When the feedings were finished Spike pulled Xander down to face him, claiming him with hard kiss, then reached to the side table and removed the obscene lid from the tall glass jar. He dipped his fingertips into the oil and began touching it to Xander’s opening, moving so fast Xander barely had time to register what was happening.

He opened his mouth to protest, but bit down on it hard. His lover had been so patient so far, so incredibly undemanding and unassuming. He deserved something in return. He deserved a brave lad who wouldn’t ask for favors and then chicken out. (Besides, Xander was a brave lad.)

Now they lay forehead to forehead, Spike’s long arms touching and caressing Xander in that interesting place. “Put your hand on me,” Spike whispered to him, making a little space between their bodies. and Xander gladly complied. They lay that way for a few peaceful moments, looking down at the long, pale shaft held in the human hand.

“Beautiful,” Spike whispered reverently.

Xander snorted a little.. “It isn’t THAT beautiful,” he lied.

“Not ME you poof, you. This. I knew it would look just like this.” He laughed ruefully, shaking his head a little, as if saying no to a memory.

“What?”

“I was so damn sure you were going to stake me if you found out. Found out how damn HARD you made me when you fed me. I was sure you’d catch on and leave me dust on the floor.

“Sometimes I thought, sure, Xan and me. He’ll want to go a round and I’ll have a gay old time of it. You’d attack, I’d defend, you’d get in a blow, I’d pull you to me. Maybe it would turn into something else, maybe it wouldn’t. Then other times, I knew it would be short and sour. You’d see it, you’d be disgusted, then you’d be serious. And if you were serious about killing me, you would. You wouldn’t even have to explain it to your mates. They’d all understand.

“Then I’d pray you wouldn’t come back so it would all go away, then I was sure you weren’t coming back because you knew all ready, then I was just praying you’d come back so I could see you one more time. Then you WOULD come back and the whole damn thing would start over again….what?”

Xander had let go of his prize and closed the distance between them suddenly, wrapping his arms around his cold Vampire and pulling him close, holding on for dear life.

Spike mistook the embrace for impatience and pushed his finger (which had only anointed the outside of Xander’s opening) slightly inside, dipping in and out, in and out. “Ready, love?”

“Do I have to answer that?” Xander whimpered as manfully as possible. “Shhhhh,” Spike shushed as he turned him around, pulling Xander’s back to his chest, pulling the covers over their bodies, “See? Your safe under the covers and nothing can hurt you. I won’t hurt you,” he was whispering, “I’ll never hurt you.” He stretched his hand out from the comfort of the covers to wet his fingers again from the jar and dipped into Xander’s body again, just barely, just a fingertip, over and over and over.

Another reach for the jar, but this time the oil was not applied to Xander’s body, and he tensed when he realized what that meant …. now Spike was pushing something soft but unyielding between his ass cheeks, now the bulb of his cock was really IN him, (but just barely,) now something hard and also unyielding was knocking into his ass uncomfortably and Spike began the grunting that Xander knew well. One strong arm was solidly placed on Xander’s chest, but the other arm was missing, and there was a space between their bodies. Xander put a hand behind him to investigate before he understood.

Spike had his other hand wrapped around his own shaft and was now fucking his own hand, allowing only the tip of his cock to enter Xander, slipping in and out, in and out. Xander didn’t know how to protest, or even if he should – the sensation of that tight ring being caressed this way was simply amazing, although the fist knocking into his ass cheeks was becoming annoying, and wasn’t there a little more to it than this? But now Spike was calling his name in that strangled, desperate way that meant he was close. Unsure of how to proceed, Xander took hold of his own hard-on, only to find his arm violently pulled away with a predatory growl. “Don’t you dare,” snarled a voice that sent shivers down his spine. Xander groaned as his arm was held back sharply, held there as Spike’s orgasm began. He groaned again when he felt Spike pull out. His Vampire was coming, spilling the cold drops across his ass. Xander turned his head to watch Spike’s face as best he could.

But it was short and muted, a quick orgasm with a lightning recovery. Gritting his teeth as if in pain, Spike winced once, and then it was over, and before he had even opened his eyes again he was sitting on top of Xander, pointing Xander’s cock to his own opening, then pressing him to, then taking him into his ass bone dry.

Xander cried out in amazement, suddenly surrounded by strength, rough and dry and demanding and undeniable. He bucked his hips upward helplessly, then with a purpose, determined to give as good as he got. Spike was holding his gaze, and Spike was riding him like a demon.

And the demon was rising. Spike was growling, now he was snarling, ridges-teeth-eyes flashing across his face. Xander held his eyes and met him stroke for stroke, struggling to match his frenetic pace, the lone logical part of his brain voicing the question (exactly who was fucking who?)

He pushed off the bed with his feet, trying to lift his ass into the air, but his stronger lover only drove him down over and over again. Finally he slipped his hands beneath his ass, making fists to lift his body higher, his bruised ass cheeks once again being hammered into unyielding knucklebones.

That put it over. A monsters face appeared before him where Spike had been before, snapping and lunging so suddenly that Xander screamed, then shouted wordlessly in the grips of a violent and powerful orgasm.

He shook, almost convulsing as he emptied, emptied, emptied for what seemed like an eternity, all the while watching Spike’s face. He watched his lover recover his human form, then his senses, then look around in surprise as if he had forgotten where he was. Then he looked down at his trembling boy and his face crumpled.

“Oh bloody hell, oh hell, oh fuck Xander I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he was covering Xander’s face and head with kisses, using the comforting, soothing hands franticly. Xander tried to speak and, failing that, simply covered his lover’s babbling mouth, holding it shut. Finally he managed a “shhhhhh,” and then started stroking and soothing himself.

“I’m all right,” he said when he could talk again. “I’m all right. I stopped breathing for a moment, but that’s ok, I’m strong.”

“You’re incredible.”

Xander took Spike’s head in both hands. “Is this why you won’t let me watch you come? Is this what you’re afraid I’ll see?” Spike kissed his hands, but didn’t answer.

Soon they were laying side by side as they always did afterwards, Xander resisting taking the position of little spoon, resisting sleep, trying to stay awake, trying to think. Soon Spike propped up on one elbow, carefully watching him, and, eventually, Xander tried to put his thoughts into words.

“Every time I came, I mean, every time I came here, to feed you….” Xander started, trying to explain, trying to express something that kept slipping away from him. “Every time I came here, I left swearing it was the last time, that I would never come back. Because, after I left, every time I closed my eyes….. I could see you… us. And we fucking like bunnies. And I was sure you were going to notice how turned-on I got, how excited you made me. And then I just knew you’d say something ….. Spike-like, something clever and ….. well, I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want you to know that about me. But then I couldn’t think straight because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And every time I finally broke down and came back hoping you could give me an answer. But, of course we’d never talk, then we would do it, then I would leave again and it just got worse.”

Spike lay beside him again, holding onto him as he spoke. Stroking, kissing, sometimes grinning, sometimes laughing ruefully, he listened as Xander described the visions that plagued him, awake and asleep, upsetting his every attempt at normality. Then there was silence for a while as Xander thought.

“But that’s just the bloodclaim, right? That’s what happens to anyone who feeds a Vampire?” And Spike didn’t answer.

They lay like that for some time, Xander on his back, Spike at his side, sometimes touching, sometimes dozing. He said one more thing before Xander turned his back to become the little spoon.

Kissing his face again, stroking his hair, he whispered “You let me be your first. You let me have your cherry. You gave that to me. I’ll never forget it. I’ll never forget it, I swear. Whatever happens next, I’ll never forget.”

------------------------------------


Xander turned his back, backed himself into Spike’s strong arms, entwining Spike’s arms in his, holding his hands, lacing their fingers together. Tangled. Entangled. Never to be separated.

“Never” being the next hour or so while he slept. Then he would wake (he always woke an hour or so later, the cold would wake him) and slip away from the Vampire’s bed to sneak into his own apartment and his own bed before Anya returned. Anya, who was keeping the Magic Box open as late as possible, working for hours afterwards getting the next day’s display ready. Anya who was spending her last few days on earth making as much money as possible. Anya who was suddenly obsessed with Communism and Capitalism, pouring through huge books daily which kept her occupied when Xander was away. Anya, who would probably accept an end-of-the-world diamond ring with grace and optimism. Anya who, if she became his fiancé, might start to wonder where it was that Xander was spending all HIS extra hours, might wonder how it was Xander wanted to spend HIS end of days.

Xander buried himself under the tangle of arms and hands and bodies and hid. Hid from the decision he was going to have to make, and soon. Any day now, any HOUR now, he was going to have to end this.

And according to the grand master plan, according to the checklist he had been mentally carrying since the night he had come into Spike’s mouth, that hour was now.

Because Xander sure as hell wasn’t going to let the world end before he lost his virginity (in BOTH senses of the word.) Sure as hell, Xander wasn’t going to attend the end-of-the-world party without giving up to his last boyfriend what he had denied his first.

What he had denied to Larry.

Sweet, tender Larry who had admitted to being a virgin, who had begged a clueless Xander to do something about it. Sweet, gentle Larry who confessed to picking on Xander just to have an excuse to be next to him. Sweet, caring Larry who had wept at the idea of Xander being taken out of the world just when they had discovered each other. Sweet, dead Larry who had the privilege of not living to see his first boyfriend die. When Larry died, Xander knew all his dreams of making love to another man died too. When Larry died Xander accepted the fact that, whatever else he achieved in life, he would die still a (in THAT sense of the word) virgin.

But then Spike appeared, and Xander’s things-to-do-before-I-die list suddenly had a major revision. Spike was ready, willing and able, and even seemed to be enjoying his new position as Instructor. The appropriateness of their relationship, maintained simultaneously with Xander’s planned proposal to Anya, made perfect sense, actually. Because of the list. Because, when the list was finished (which should take a few days, maybe a week) he could finish it with the Vampire.

Before the world ended, or the adreniline washed them clean, whichever happened first.

But things had gone so quickly! Just a few hours ago he had actually made the request in the rain, and here he was, de-virgin-ified. Lying in bed, listening to the rain that was still falling. And tonight, hiding under the tangle of arms and fingers, pressed against the cool body of the sleeping demon, listening to what might possibly be the unlikely sound of a Vampiric snore, tonight was not the night. This was not the hour to end it. Although the list was complete, although Xander HAD, according to his more experienced lover, just given up his cherry, the hour had simply not yet arrived.

But how could that be? If not after this, when? If not, when after this? And if their partnership didn’t end, what did that make it? What would it become?

Xander started to disentangle himself, started to rise, his thoughts a-jumble, his brain starting to burn. The sleeping Vampire protested with sleep-addled words, meaning unclear, arms insistent. Xander allowed himself to be pulled back in.

He reached back between them to touch his puckered secret, the location of the recently supposedly-removed cherry. He didn’t feel violated. He hardly even felt initiated. Despite what the older man said, this didn’t really feel like what two men did with each other. In fact, it had felt a lot more like what one man did by himself with another man laying nearby. Not to put to fine a point on it, it felt like Xander had just lost his virginity on a technicality.

Which settled things.

End of conversation, decision made.

Xander snuggled back into Spike’s strong arms and slept, smiling, satisfied.

Simply put, it wasn’t time to leave the Vampire.

Not yet.

There were still things left to be done.





Outdoor Smut

Muddy knees, dirt on hands, the smell of earth and grass, but more importantly, blood dripping carelessly down his legs soaking into his pants, and Xander limping as fast as he could returning, calling out. This was the visionsmell that slammed into Spike like a fist as he immerged from his crypt. He had only let his boy rise, dress and leave him a few moments ago, and had just come up the ladder to open up a bottle of scotch. Xander was gone, and Spike was ready to start drinking the hours away until his boy returned (Thundering Blazes, don’t think of him as “your boy.” He’s the slayer’s boy. He’s the demon-lady’s boy.)

And look! Apparently the Slayer’s boy was already returning.

Xander started at the sudden appearance, and stopped running even though he was still several yards away from the crypt. “You heard me from back there?” he asked breathless as Spike moved with preternatural speed to his side. “It’s nothing, it’s stupid” Xander was laughing, trying to reassure the stern-faced Vampire with the frantic, worried hands that were trying to asses the damage, protect him from oncoming foes and carry him to safety all at the same time. “I’m all right, I tripped and fell and… god. This is crazy but I didn’t want to waste it…..” He indicated the bleeding leg , visible through torn pants. “I just tripped and cut myself, but I didn’t want to waste it,” he told Spike, laughing at himself, because it seemed so crazy. “So do you want to HEY!!” Xander yelped as he found himself, in one movement, stripped of his bloodstained pants, naked from the waist down and laying on his back looking at the night sky, his bare ass lying on grass, his dangly bits suddenly exposed to the night air.

He spoke no more. He knew talking was a little superfluous when his Vampire was in this kind of mood (he also had to catch his breath.) He lay passively for a bit while Spike licked the length of the long scratch repeatedly, lapping up all the blood that had flowed down his the length of his calf, bathing each inch of the wound and erasing the pain, attaching himself to specific spots that were gushing the most. Then he pinched down severely with his thumb, making Xander wince as he expertly cut off the bloodflow, forcing the naughty veins to obey and quit leaking.

All this, of course, Xander expected from experience.

What he did NOT expect, however, was hearing his Vampire groan with desire and attack with devouring mouth and ravaging tongue his stark bare…….kneecaps??

“Um, Spike?” he asked, looking down, embarrassed at his condition (naked outside? Without the protection of walls and privacy and…….walls? Is this even legal?) but what he saw only left him more baffled. The lover he had just left was minimally dressed, buttoned-down red shirt (unbuttoned) with no tee beneath, pants with no belt, no shoes. Xander had just left the Vampire behind in bed to dress and sneak home, apparently this is as dressed as his lover had gotten before Xander had his irrelevant accident. Coming back to Spike ASAP when he realized he was bleeding precious blood made sense (although he could have just as easily limped home, cleaned up and gone to bed, maybe he just wanted an excuse to come back?) And his lover, moaning and panting as if he were on his way to a massive orgasm, was licking Xander’s kneescaps. Lapping up the moisture of the, well, of the mud that had stained his jeans when he landed hard in the mud after tripping and gashing himself over a broken headstone. He was covered in mud, (well, more accurately his pants were covered in mud,) he SMELLED of mud and dirt and grass and outdoors, and if the usually crisp-and-clean Vampire had a problem with that it was hard to tell. Now the blood that had escaped his minor injury was forgotten, and unless he was severely mistaken, his lover seemed to be in the throes of ecstasy over his dirty knees.

“Spike, what are you doing?” he tried to ask, but as soon as he spoke a clever hand was pressed between his inner thigh and his (exposed! feeling night air!) dangly bits and began to massage in a very distracting way, all while the tongue and mouth continued to kiss, suck on and lick every inch of skin on and around his soiled kneecaps.

Spike’s hands were nothing to shake a stick at, (although why you would want to do something as asinine as shake a stick at Spike’s hands when you *could* be laying back and accepting a tender and erotic massage was beyond Xander.) Right now the hands (yes, both of them) seemed to be content to distract Xander with intimate caresses of both leg and scrotum while the mouth did……whatever it was doing. Xander tried to relax and enjoy the bizarre attention of both groin and kneecaps while ignoring the (very distracting!!) problem of bare ass laying on grass, of half-naked body exposed in the chill of the night air that would not let him forget that he was !outside! and not, well, inside.

“Spike, please, take me……take me….take me back to your bed,” Xander found himself saying, and while he never dreamt he’d be whimpering those particular words to this particular Vampire, the words still made a whole lot of sense compared to what was happening now. “Lay back, just relax,” came the whispered refusal, but when Xander tried to push the amorous head away, Spike actually stopped his frantic ministrations and looked up at his lover. “Look….” he panted, pointing his own face at the sky. “See that wobbly bit, there? That’s Venus, look at Venus….” and then the head descended again, now leaving the knees and intent on licking an obscene path up the inner thighs.

“Spike, please, this is a cemetery,”

“What, you never made love with your lady in your own backyard?” Now Spike, breathless, was lifting and separating Xander’s knees, crawling in between them, and Xander gave himself up for loss. “No, I’ve never, no, Spike?” But his Vampire only grinned. “Then I’m the first”, he said, obviously pleased, and bent over double to swallow his boy whole.

There were no walls for his cries to bounce off of, his moans were flung freely into the night. There was nothing to hold onto, he was left to clutch at handfuls of earth and grass. “Spike, please don’t make me do this” he was whimpering all while spreading his knees wider, pushing up into Spike’s mouth. He alternately closed his eyes tight to hide from the situation (we’re outside!!) and opened them wide in surprise at the spectacular sensation provided by one Very Enthusiastic Vampire.

Venus. Look at Venus. Look at the whole of lovely sky, with steady planets and twinkling stars (to see the moon he would have to turn his head.) Looking at a starlit sky was a pleasure Xander never allowed himself anymore – being outside at night was commonplace, but usually he was looking ahead of him for things danger, not relaxing and looking at things beautiful. He tried that now.

He really tried.

He had never had sex in his backyard, no, the only backyard he ever had was belonged to his own parents. But there WAS Jessie’s backyard, with sleeping bags and tents made from bed sheets slung over tree branches – those were good memories. Sleepovers at Jessie’s house meant peaceful feelings and quiet hominess, safe from the noise and confusion his own un-homie house. Sleeping bags with Jessie meant laying underneath the stars, just like this, and knowing you could talk about anything, anything, and then lay quietly in the silence and feel free to dream.

Dream. That was a good plan. Despite being spread out on the ground by his lover, in spite of Spike’s skillful fingers that had found and were now fondling his scrotum (oh that’s a good trick, need to learn that trick) Xander could not finish this until he could relax, and he could not escape until he finished this. So Xander dreamed.

Still feeling the cool grass under his bare ass, still feeling the night air on whatever dangly bits were not currently inside someone else’s mouth, still spread out under the vast nighttime sky, Xander was being fucked, and expertly so, but not like this. In his fantasy Spike was inside him, not gently and cautiously like before, but with the force and vigor of his most hidden fantasies, spreading him out in the open air, beneath the night sky, fucking him right into the dirt. But he was on top of him too, somehow penetrating him but also facing him in the physics that worked just fine in fantasies. Xander was being taken and his Vampire was the taker, and suddenly being heard was the last thing on his mind. Crying out loud, digging his fingers into the earth, he came. He came well, and he came loudly.

Spike finished swallowing and rose with that wild, dangerous look on his face that Xander had come to expect, but not completely trust. It was that look that made him wonder if the chip was the only thing keeping the Vampire from finishing the meal by eating him up. It was the wild look of desire that made him think that Spike knew him (and wanted him) in ways that went way beyond the sex. It was the wild look he got in his eyes right before the third bite.

The look passed (as it always did) and he was only Spike again, crawling like a panther to cover Xander’s body with his body and Xander’s mouth with his grinning mouth, a move that didn’t stop his boy from asking the obvious. “What the FUCK was that about?”

The laugh was the low and evil kind that gave Xander shivers, even now. Spike pulled up and fetched jeans and underwear and proceeded to dress his pliant boy, all the while grinning and looking very satisfied with himself. “I could tell you, love, but then I’d have to kill you. Besides, you get jealous.”

“Spike,” Xander complained as his lover pulled his jeans and boxers up to the waist and zipped the jeans shut, “You just ground virgin ass into the grass, and I’m not complaining, but you seemed to get a big hardon because of my dirty knees” (here the Vampire growled a bit, or perhaps he was purring?) “and I think I have a right to know why.”

Spike pulled him up into a sitting position and kissed his mouth hard, leaning up and over him until his head was completely bent back, resting in his Vampire’s hands. The kiss was serious, but when he pulled up Spike still wore that evil grin. “I’ll tell you, pet. I’ll tell you everything, for a price.”

Xander held the gaze, and reached out to unzip and unbutton a certain pair of black pants within his reach. “Everything?”

But Spike batted his hands away. “Not here.” He pulled Xander up to his feet and began to lead him away.

Now what?” Xander groaned, feeling slightly put upon. A feeling which he quickly forgot when the Vampire began to run.





Reminisce about Spike's Hands

Sometimes, when he was feeling melancholy, the one they called Sir would search the old Scottish castle for the smokers.

There weren’t supposed to be any smokers, of course, since everyone was supposed to be training, in tip-top-condition. But there were always going to be stressful days, and stressful days led to relapses. Then the one they called Sir would just follow his nose. Sometimes he would infiltrate them, being charming, flirting, making witty remarks. Other times he would just take a turret above them and breathe, taking in the smell. Cigarettes. All that was missing now was the leather.

He would do this when Spike left town, that year later. After the death and resurrection of Buffy, after his obsession with the slayer was finally consummated and consequently ruined. Xander had bit his lip a lot that year, knowing Spike, knowing he was devoted to the Slayer, knowing that, eventually, he would do her or be done-in trying. He could never see Buffy accepting the first, and feared for the second.

Then Spike had attacked Buffy, and then Spike left town. That, at least to Xander, was a comfort. Spike, still a Vampire, still a demon, had done something terrible, and then had done the right thing by
vacating the premises. But Xander, no longer his lover, still missed him. Missed him terribly. That’s when that Xander would take long walks around Sunnydale looking for smokers.

And that’s how Xander had found out something important.

He was sitting next to a smoker, a young girl, heavily madeup and barely dressed, a noticed a bite mark on her neck, not hidden, almost displayed proudly. Xander had made a query, hoping for a mission, maybe a Vampire attack somewhere he could storm in on?

But no such luck – the girl was a Ghoul, she had Vampire boyfriends, although she referred to them as “Lonely Ones.” (Xander was in no position to judge. He had called Spike quite a few things in moments of passion, although “Lonely One” was probably never one of them.)

“Bastards,” she was talking, the floodgates open, her whole life story coming out, whether Xander liked it or not. “As soon as their done with you, they’re *done* with you, you know?”

Xander didn’t know.

“I mean, the first time, the first bite, it’s really kind of boring, then they really have to work at it to keep you there, so you get the backrub, the foot rub, they play with your hair, all just to keep you there. The second bite and the third bite, THAT’S when the rush hits.

“But then their *done* with you, you know? That third time, when you’re coming off that incredible rush, that’s when you get pushed away. Hard. Then they’re off to the next dish. Because they have to have more than one,” here she turned to him to explain. “Because if they DON’T it just messes up their mind, you know? And, like, their not really getting a full meal, since they’re not killing you. So they have to do two or three people a night, or they’re not really getting fed, you know?”

Xander didn’t know.

“And that’s the bitch of it,” she complained, chain-smoking, drinking the drinks Xander bought her, barely noticing they were there. “When they’re getting to the end of that third feeding, and you’re just soaring on this amazing high, but then they hold you like you’re some piece of garbage they found on the street, and like they’re already done and who gives a fuck about you, right? You know what I mean?”

Xander didn’t know.

“Ohmygod, it’s like, it’s like if you go to bed with this guy, say, and the second the sex is over he throws you out of his room like he can’t stand to look at you, and you’ve barely got your clothes on! You know?”

That, Xander did know.

That girl seemed to think she was going home with him, and wasn’t happy to find out she wasn’t. The one they called Sir grinned at the memory. She wasn’t very happy with him, nor did she appreciate the suggestion that she stop feeding Lonely Ones if they treated her so shabbily. “Yeah, but the high!” she complained. The high wears off, Xander told her. But days later you’re here, still feeling the bite. No, she didn’t appreciate his words of wisdom at all.

He had a new appreciation for Spike that night. There were many long walks in the night, many long hot showers after he had that little piece of information.

Because, from the beginning, he had always been aware of Spike’s HANDS, and the adoration, the devotion, the passion they had conveyed. The way Xander had been held like a sacred object, like the holy grail. They way Xander had never, ever felt like anything other than adored, even worshiped, when the feedings were done. How Spike had carefully explained that the thrill would wear off in time, how he sympathized when the intensity had faded (and offered other first-times in recompense, oh yes, Xander remembered that VERY well.)

The Xander of that night, the long-walks-in-the-dark-worrying-about-Spike Xander, the one who had spoken to the ghoul in the bar and still smelled like cigarettes, THAT Xander had been devastated. He had found out something important about his erstwhile lover, but now his erstwhile lover had gone, never to return. THAT Xander felt he was coming into a knowledge too late, learning what he had only after he had lost it.

But the one they called Sir, the one who stood on turrets in old Scottish Castles and searched out second-hand smoke to remember the simple days of Sunnydale, that Xander smiled.

Because Spike had come back to simple Sunnydale, of course. Spike had come back in a whole lot of pain, and Xander was there to comfort him.

And appreciate Spike’s hands.




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