“Quit whining,” Spike told him, sipping from his mug of blood. He ran a hand through his hair, which was still damp from the rain, and was drying naturally without any gel. He was self-conscious about it…he didn’t know what his hair would look like not slicked back. He didn’t think he wanted to know.
“I’m bored, Spike. Let’s do something.”
Spike smirked. He knew what he WANTED to do. //What I want to do, luv, is throw you over the back of this here chair and fuck you senseless. But I can’t. So stop looking so sodding adorable over there.//
“Go get your cards, then, ninny. We’ll play poker.” He grinned evilly. “Strip poker.”
Xander just stared at the vampire, his face blanching only slightly. “Strip poker? But that’s something you play with girls. That’s the whole point.”
“Well, I know [b] I’m [/b] not a girl. I also know I don’t have any cash, and that you’re broker than I am. What’s wrong, Harris? Not as secure in your masculinity as you thought?” Spike jabbed, looking up at the boy through his eyelashes in a way he knew was damned irresistible.
“Oh, fine. Stupid vampire. You wanna play strip poker, we’ll play strip poker. Long as it shuts you up.” Xander went to his room to get the cards from the drawer, and Spike could hear his breathing quicken. A satisfied smirk found its way to his face. //Don’t scare the boy now. Let him think it’s going to be his idea. It just won’t do to have him think you coerced him into it.//
Spike hadn’t set out to seduce the boy tonight. //Seduce? What kind of a poncy…okay, yeah, seduce.// But they were both bored senseless, there was nothing good on the telly, and the boy looked absolutely edible in the black T-shirt he had put on. Spike couldn’t figure why the boy was actually dressing unlike a clown today, but he wasn’t going to complain.
Xander just stood in his bedroom for a minute, trying to calm himself. Hat was wrong with him? He was having really really bad (sexy – NO! BAD!!) thoughts about Spike, and he couldn’t seem to get himself to stop. Why had he agreed to strip poker. It wasn’t like he had a chance of beating the vampire. He ALWAYS lost. Did he really want to strip for Spike? Not really. //You want him to want you.// //And you think showing him my naked body is going to make him WANT me? Please! He’ll laugh, and then I’ll be hurt, and he’ll just make fun of me because he’s SPIKE.// //He’s your friend. He won’t laugh at you.// Xander sighed, then finished the mental conversation. //He will when he sees that I’m…er…arisen to the occasion.// The voice in his head had nothing helpful to say to that, and Xander sighed again, staring at the deck of cards in his hand.
“Coming, pet?” Spike said from the doorway. Xander jumped and let out a not-at-all manly shriek, spinning around to look at the vampire. Spike was leaning against the door jam, impossibly white arms crossed over the trademark black T-shirt. His hair was slightly curly from the lack of gel, and Xander wondered for a moment if it was as soft as it looked. He shook the thought away, and nodded nervously.
“Yeah. Yeah, sorry.” He hurried past the vampire toward the kitchen, where he quickly retrieved two bottles of beer from the fridge, and sat down at the table. Spike smiled again and sat down across from the brunette, then cleared his throat.
“Right then. Aces high, five card draw, jokers wild. I’ll deal.”
“No you won’t, bleachboy. I want a chance, at least. I’ll deal.”
Spike rolled his eyes. “Fine. You deal. Give me a beer.” Xander handed one of the bottles over to the vampire, who popped the top off easily. And took a drink. Xander shuffled the cards, then opened his own beer.
Spike watched as the young man’s forearm rippled and the bottle cap made a hissing noise, loosening. He was momentarily mesmerized by the movement of the muscles, which were defined by a year of hard carpentry and construction work. Spike shook his head, then looked at the boy expectantly as he started to deal.
*~*~*
A pair of twos. A stupid, worthless, crappy pair of twos. How had he ended up with suck a horrible hand. Xander sat across from him, wearing only a pair of stark white boxer shorts. Spike had opted to pretend he didn’t notice the tenting at the front of them. Spike had let the boy win a few rounds, simply because he KNEW he was bloody beautiful, and he felt the boy would be a little more receptive to his advances if he knew it too. Spike wore only his jeans, staring hard at the cards in his hand, wishing they would turn into something useful. But no. It was still nothing but a pair of twos. And he had to lay them out. He took an unneeded breath. He really didn’t want to take his pants off. It would NOT be a good idea. Xander wasn’t the only one enjoying the little peep show. The difference was, Spike wasn’t wearing any underwear. You wore jeans this tight, you COULDN’T wear underwear. OF course, his jeans, at the moment, were uncomfortably tight. It might be good to get out of them.
Xander fought down his disappointment. Here he was, holding nothing but a pair of tens. He just KNEW Spike had some amazing hand, and that more likely than not, he was going to end up taking off his underwear. Spike hadn’t said anything yet about the way the front of the shorts was bulged, but he knew he couldn’t hide anything if he had to take those shorts off. He wasn’t sure he wanted to show Spike how much he enjoyed seeing the creamy expanse of smooth, muscular chest, the dusky nipples slightly pert in the cool room, the little trail of dusty blonde hair that made it’s way sparsely from the tiny navel into the waistband of the low black jeans. Xander took a large gulp of his seventh beer, trying to think of ANYthing else. //Geometry. Work. Building. Carpentry. Wood. Oh, yeah. Good thought, Xander. Way to go.//
Xander swallowed, then sighed. He carefully laid down his hand, face up. Spike looked at the cards on the table, and his shoulders sagged. “Bloody hell!” exclaimed the vampire. He slammed his cards down angrily, and stood. Time to give the boy his show.
“Th…I won?! Hah!! I’m still in this game! Take that, Mr. Snarky ‘I’m gonna kick your arse’ Vampire! Hah!” Okay, so Xander was getting a little drunk. So? He was allowed. He had a nearly naked vampire playing poker at his kitchen table. And he wanted that vampire.
Spike just rolled his eyes and reached for the fly of his jeans. He carefully watched the young man’s face, intent on seeing his expression when he realized the vampire wasn’t wearing any underwear. He was sure he could laugh at it for weeks afterward. Hopefully, though, that expression would just tell Spike what he wanted to know. Did the boy want him as much as Spike wanted the boy?
Xander took in a lungful of air. Three buttons of Spike’s fly were undone, and still no underwear. It clicked. Spike wasn’t WEARING any underwear. Xander’s eyes widened and his mouth hung slack, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away.
Spike was prepared to laugh at the expression on Xander’s face when he realized the boy wasn’t looking away or blushing or trying to leave. He was just staring. The hunger in Spike’s eyes flared, and he feasted his eyes on the naked adoration obvious in Xander’s eyes, and he wanted to throw the boy down and fuck him under the table. And on the table. And in the shower, and on the roof, and anywhere else he could think of to do it. But that wasn’t the way to win over Xander Harris. He’d have to go slowly, because as much as he wanted the boy, they were friends, and he didn’t want to lose the connection altogether.
“Xan? Pet?” he asked gently. Xander tore his eyes away from Spike’s crotch, and he looked up guiltily. There was the blush. Spike smiled winningly. “Stand up for me, luv.” Xander only took a moment before doing as he was asked. He was sure he was going to pop out of his shorts any minute. Spike’s eyes were impossibly blue, and his lips impossibly full. Xander just wanted to suck on them for hours, and stare at that gorgeous body.
“I…” Xander croaked, his voice husky. Spike smiled again, and stepped forward.
“Shh.” He raised his hand and started to gently run the backs of his fingers against Xander’s strong bicep. He looked up at the taller man, and a pink tongue snaked out and wet his lips. Then Spike leaned forward and brushed his lips gently against the human’s own startled mouth.
Spike felt fireworks. He thought for sure that he could drown in the taste of Xander’s mouth, that he could fall deeply in and never see the world again and not care as long as he could touch his lips to Xander’s, even as chastely as he was doing now. Their softness and heat warmed his cooler body to the core, and he thought that surely he had died and St. Peter had royally fucked up because this was an incredibly blissful heaven.
Xander wanted to pinch himself. But he couldn’t move. He was frozen, except for the intense fire that burned deep in the pit of his stomach and rolled through his body in flaming waves. It dizzied him, and he suddenly knew what was happening. Spike wasn’t kissing him, and it wasn’t a dream. He was in heaven. That’s it. He’d died, and somehow he’d earned enough brownie points with the Big Guy by helping Buffy slay all those demons, and he’d made it into heaven. And he was kissing Spike.
Spike stepped back, light-headed. His eyes were hazy with desire. //It was just a little kiss! A small, friendly, schoolmarmy kiss! So why do I feel so out of control?// Spike looked up into Xander’s brown eyes, which had managed to darken further so that they were almost black. They stared at each other, equally shocked by the fever invoked by that one short kiss, for long moments. Finally, Xander blinked, attempting to regain some semblance of coherent thought.
“Whoa,” he said.
“Bloody right,” Spike replied quickly.