Predatory Acts
by Jane Davitt

Chapter 3

Xander’s head came up sharply. “I don’t need you telling me anything,” he said, the uncertainty in his voice contradicting his words. “I’m just not sure I want to –”

“Not sure you want to fuck the undead your first time out?”

Xander shrugged. “Had my eye on someone else.”

Spike frowned, puzzled at the way that made him feel. Possessive jealousy wasn’t new to him; watching Dru flirt her way across every continent did that to a man, but he barely knew Xander after all. “This someone else - another bloke?” he asked casually, leaning back on the bed and pushing the pillows up behind his head. He watched Xander try to lie, a grin twitching his lips. The boy was so bad at it, it was funny.

“A – no! Girl. She’s a girl. Woman. She’s mine. I knew it from the moment I saw her.”

“How very romantic,” drawled Spike, rolling his eyes. “And is she going to like the new improved version that eats dying women, or will that make seducing her just that little bit –”

Xander flung himself at Spike, hands reaching out for his throat, anger revealing the animal as wrapping paper torn away shows the gift inside. Spike let him do it, laughing helplessly. “Can’t kill me that way, pet,” he choked. “And you’re leaving yourself open.”

He proved his point by digging his nails into Xander’s balls, making him cry out with shock and pain. His hands slipped away from Spike’s neck and he reached down but Spike’s grip slackened at once. Spike waited until he was sure Xander’s rage had died away and then his hand began to stroke instead, moving higher, gripping and pumping until Xander’s eyes closed and his teeth bit into his lip.

“Feels better than you thought? Someone else doing it for you? Doesn’t really matter whose hand it is, does it. You’re so randy you’d come if it was me, or your girl, or just about anyone. But you want it to be me because I’m like you, aren’t I? And I’ll make it good, pet.” His hand never stopped moving as he rolled Xander onto his back, propping himself up on an elbow and flinging one long leg over Xander’s thigh, holding him still. Xander’s hands reached out, blindly searching, and Spike shifted so that his own cock was within reach. Xander took it and began to work it awkwardly, unable to get a rhythm. Spike moved on top of him, his mouth hungry against Xander’s, his body like a cool sheet on a hot night.

It had been months since Spike had made love and even then Drusilla had been so fragile that he had hardly dared to move once he was inside her. He knew he was hurting Xander, knew that no matter what strength the animal spirit was giving him, a human body was too breakable to withstand a vampire’s pleasure...but he didn’t hold back. Much. Xander might have begged him to stop, but his mouth was busy and he’d waited so long for this –

Time slowed after they came for the first time, after they had the taste of each other’s come in their mouth, the smell of it on their fingers, the sounds of each other’s climax in their ears. They lay motionless, not done, just waiting. Blood trickled down their bodies from a dozen cuts and bites, lips were swollen and full from kisses that had bruised as much as they caressed and they were both still hard, still ready.

Xander reached out a finger and laid it against Spike’s mouth, brushing it against lips he’d torn with his teeth until they bled, just so that he could lick them clean. Spike pursed his lips in a mockery of a kiss, eyes glinting with challenge. Xander grinned back, feeling relaxed and wanting more.

If he’d still been capable of abstract thought that would have  puzzled him. He’d just had wild, rough sex with a vampire. A male vampire. An hour or so after eating human flesh. Relaxed? He should have been curled up in the corner shaking. Dimly he sensed that, but it didn’t seem relevant. The body beside him, stretching out with a languid, feline grace, was enough to wipe his mind clear of anything but a humming lust, buzzing in his ears, raising the hair on his body in an atavistic response. Curiosity filled him and he leaned in, snuffling at Spike’s neck and making the vampire laugh, tasting and smelling every hollow on the sleekly muscled body, committing them to memory.

He stopped and ran his finger over Spike’s body, feather touches, tickling and teasing until Spike moaned, hips lifting off the bed just a fraction of an inch. His hand locked around the base of Spike’s cock, lifting it from where it lay against his flat stomach. Dipping his head he licked at it, tonguing it roughly, enjoying the way it felt inside his mouth. The contrast of the hardness at the core and the thin, delicate skin surrounding it was fascinating. He drew it inside as far as he could, catching the flesh with his teeth, inexperience and eagerness combining to make him clumsy. Spike hissed with pain and Xander did it again, this time on purpose, his ardour edged with a cruelty as inherent and impersonal as a child’s.

 Xander wanted more than a hand coaxing him to climax now and his own erection was demanding attention. Abandoning Spike’s cock abruptly he moved up his body until he was straddling Spike’s chest. Slipping his hand behind the blond head, he raised it, shoving pillows behind it to support Spike’s neck. Holding his cock, feeling its familiar weight against his palm, he moved so that it was just out of reach of Spike’s lips. Power was tingling through him, raw and rich. When Spike opened his lips, waiting, ready, he didn’t hesitate.

It had been a while since Spike had done this and never with someone so new, someone who didn’t care that his rapid deep thrusts gave his partner no chance to breathe or to swallow. Xander might have been forgiven for thinking that a vampire didn’t need that luxury but Spike was willing to bet it hadn’t even crossed his mind. Xander was lost in pleasure, as he had been when he fed from the woman. Spike had ceased to exist for him, apart from his mouth, and Xander’s eyes were squeezed tight shut, oblivious to anything but what that mouth was doing to him.

Spike endured it, fury bubbling up inside him. His hands were free and he began to use them, gripping Xander’s hips to try and control his violent thrusts, listening to the harsh gasps as Xander built up to a solitary, selfish, climax. He could have thrown Xander off him, could have bitten down hard and punished him, but he was paying for his earlier pleasure, paying for his betrayal of Drusilla and part of him welcomed the discomfort.

 Xander came at last when Spike lost patience and pushed a finger knuckle deep inside him, brutally fast and hard. Xander cried out, his cock slipping free of Spike’s bruised lips, and came, covering the vampire’s face with sticky wetness. Spike pulled his finger free and turned his face into the pillow to wipe it clean. Xander moved off him and looked down, his eyes hazy with pleasure, empty of guilt. He saw that Spike was still hard and reached out for him but Spike’s hand swept out, knocking Xander away from him.

Xander stared at him, startled out of his euphoria. “Don’t you want me to -?”

Spike stood up his face passionless and cold. “I don’t want anything from you.”

He walked to the bathroom and slammed the door shut. Xander heard the screech of a tap being turned and then the hiss of a shower. He ran his fingers through sweat-damp hair, watching the door, perplexity clouding his face. Standing up on legs still shaky, he walked to the door and turned the handle. It wasn’t locked and he pushed it open and went inside. The room was small, with a shower over the tub. There was a plastic shower curtain with a dolphin theme but Spike hadn’t bothered to pull it. Spray was drifting out and wetting the tiled floor making it slippery underfoot. Spike was standing, head bent, one arm stretched out, hand flat against the back wall, bracing himself. The water was pounding the back of his neck, hitting the bare skin and cascading down the long curve of his back. Spike’s other hand was around his cock and he was jacking off as if it was a job that needed doing, as exciting a task as flossing.

Xander took one step and Spike said, “Out”, his hand still busy, his face grim. Xander ignored him and took another step. In that room, it was enough to bring him close enough to touch Spike. He reached out his hand and Spike spun around, grabbing him by the throat with the hand that had been against the wall. His eyes were dull with tears, threatening to spill down a face contorted with loathing. The animal in Xander knew fear and began to panic. Spike stepped out of the bath, pushing Xander backwards, and thrust him towards the door.

Xander’s bare feet skidded on the tiles and he fell to the floor, landing heavily on his back. Spike watched him impassively, having released his hold on him as soon as he began to fall. He rolled onto his front and Spike pounced. Xander was pushed down against the tiled floor, a sleek damp weight against his back, a hard cock prodding against him. He felt him start to push inside with one savage, shallow thrust that pulled a scream of pain from him. Spike hesitated. He knew that sound of despairing violation. It had come from his throat in the past. He couldn’t do it. The weight left Xander abruptly and from the floor he watched Spike walk past him to the table and reach for a bottle of vodka.

Xander sighed, resting his face against the floor for a moment before getting to his feet. He was confused, angry, and now that the lust had simmered down, he was aching and sore, but he could see that Spike was distraught and that bothered him. He’d enjoyed hurting people in the Bronze, watching them flush with embarrassment as he derided their bodies, their clothes, their dates or lack of them. They weren’t in the pack. Spike wasn’t either, not really, but he was strong, they had shared food and sex and Xander saw him as an equal. Within the pack, giving comfort was expected. They were one. What hurt one, hurt all.

He pulled a towel off the rack and walked over to Spike, who turned away silently, putting the bottle back on the table. Ignoring the rejection, Xander began to dry Spike with the towel, starting with his shoulders. Spike flinched at the first touch and then stood still, head bowed. Xander didn’t make more of it than it needed, didn’t try to turn it into foreplay. It was as instinctive as a cat washing the face of his litter mate. He rubbed the soft towel over damp, smooth flesh, standing behind Spike as he dried his neck and back carefully. He towelled each arm and then went to his knees so he could reach Spike’s backside and legs, eyes level with flesh marked by his own teeth and nails in a dozen different places.

Then he stood and walked around to face Spike. He began with Spike’s chest, scrubbing at the defined muscles with a distant admiration. When he went to his knees again he didn’t ignore Spike’s cock, hanging heavy now, but he didn’t linger over it. He stood again and looked at Spike’s hair. It was almost dry so he settled for giving it a brisk rub, tousling it up into curls.

Spike’s head jerked up. “Watch it!”

Xander stepped back, hands raised in automatic placation. Spike’s face softened for a second and he sighed, smoothing his hair down. “Not your fault, mate,” he said. “Well, partly your fault for being such a selfish bastard –”

“Huh?”

Spike glared at him half heartedly. “Get a blow up doll, next time,” he advised. “They don’t care if you’re just using them to get off.”

Xander flushed. “I’m sorry.”

“Liar. You had a great time. But if you want seconds, you might want to reconsider your technique in the future. Some advice? When there’s a set of teeth around your dick, it’s not a good idea to piss off the bloke who owns them.”

Xander winced but Spike waved a magnanimous hand and carried on. “Not really you that’s got me worked up. It’s Dru. My girlfriend. Do you know how long I’ve been faithful to her? Years, mate. Bloody decades.”

Xander felt vaguely flattered. “So I’m the first person you’ve had sex with, apart from her, in like a century?”

Spike snorted. “Not likely! But she was there watching, or she set it up. Not the same. This is behind her back and if I tell her, it’d hurt her. She’s hurt enough, is my princess. But she’s got this thing, see? She looks inside you. Literally with some of ‘em and she can pull things out of your mind –”

“Are we still being literal here?”

“Sometimes.”

Xander threw the towel in the direction of the bathroom and sat down on the bed. “So, why me?” he asked. “And sorry that you’re going to die horribly and it wasn’t much fun, by the way.”

Spike arched an eyebrow with pretended surprise. “What makes you think Dru’s going to blame _me_?” he asked.

Xander thought about that. It should have scared him but it didn’t. It was too remote a threat. The here and the now; that was all that mattered and it was more than enough for him to deal with.

“And I don’t know what you’re like as a human but you’ve got...possibilities the way you are now. Trust me, you’re too tasty to leave on the plate.”

Xander swallowed. Spike’s voice was like an extension of his hands. It was soft, suggestive and it made him shiver and quiver. He was finding that he responded less to what Spike said than his tone. The hard edged voice made him feel like whining in supplication, the velvet sheathed one made him want to squirm and beg.

“If she tries to hurt me, Buffy will stake her,” he said, discovering that even with a hyena’s soul his mouth still said deeply stupid things. Spike stiffened in every body part but one. Xander could almost see the pieces slotting together and he began to scramble away from the slowly advancing vampire, every sense he had telling him that he’d just made a bad mistake.

“Girl in the alley was calling to a Buffy and you took off like a greyhound who’s spotted the rabbit.” One step. “All the demons are talking about in the bars is the new Slayer.” Another step. “Seems she’s called Buffy too.” Last step. Spike’s face was inches away, his eyes flat, like scribbled blue crayon in a paper white face. “You’re friends with the Slayer aren’t you.” It wasn’t ever a question.

Spike’s fist moved too fast to avoid and Xander’s head slammed back against the door. Spike saw him slump down unconscious and pursed his lips. “Sorry, mate, but you just moved from being a treat to being bait.” He sighed. Dressing a limp body was a bugger but he couldn’t carry him through the streets like this. Marvelling over Xander’s taste in boxer shorts – glow in the dark reindeers with red noses – he began to dress him, ready for the trip to the Master’s lair.

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