Spike pushed Xander up against the basement door. It had been hard enough
getting here without pulling the boy down behind the nearest bush. All he'd
wanted to do was taste more of that Xander-ness about him. Feel that heat.
He nuzzled into the crook of Xander's neck, enjoying the thrill of fear he
could feel in his increased heartbeat. Instead of biting, he traced his lips
along the jugular. Only when he got he got to Xander's jaw did he bite,
but
gently, more an exhalation than anything threatening. Xander relaxed against
him, placing his hands on either side of Spike's face and bringing their
lips together.
If he had a soul it would be singing. Luck, beautiful luck, this spell. No
other way would he have felt the lips of that soft, wide mouth open beneath
his and been able to suck that mobile tongue inside. Thick and hot, in his
mouth. Yeah. His body was loosening all over at the thought. The sudden
warmth spreading through Spike now had little to do with the living body
pressed against his. He didn't know how long this spell would last, but he
intended to gain as much out of it he could.
When his mouth was released, Spike whisper-breathed, "Inside, pet. Let's go
inside."
Then there was the laughing fumbling for keys, which couldn't be found until
Spike searched his pockets. Xander unlocked the door and they stumbled
inside, Spike plastered to Xander's hot back, his hands wandering over the
well-formed chest stopping only when they reached the bandage. He turned
Xander around and pulled off his shirt so he could inspect the wound.
"Hurts?" he asked, searching for the truth.
A shrug in answer. "Itches, stings kinda."
Spike placed a chaste kiss in the middle of the white patch and started
peeling off the edge of the bandage. When revealed, the wound was a shallow
brown groove running halfway across the upper part of Xander's chest. He
placed another gentle kiss where it looked worst, the stinging metallic tang
of healing driving him near delirium. He poked his tongue out and dabbed at
the scabbed opening. Not as good as blood, but close. The essence of it
instead. He felt Xander's chest rise swiftly in response, though out of fear
or desire Spike couldn't tell.
When Spike raised his head, he saw a different kind of fear in Xander's eyes
than he would have expected. Not blood-fear that caused humans to babble and
blubber when cornered, but something else. It occurred to him Xander had
never done this before. Not with a man anyway and definitely not with a
vampire. He ran his hands up and down the boy's arms, trying to soothe him,
as Xander stood frozen.
Spike felt overdressed in sight of Xander's bare chest and pulled off his
coat and over-shirt. When he started tugging at the T-shirt Xander had
partially untucked outside the Bronze, he was surprised to feel other hands
joining his, helping. He pulled his own hands away and let Xander do his
undressing for him.
He stood frozen now as Xander's hands slid back down his arms. One hand came
to rest on the middle of his chest as the other trailed wisps of heat down
his side. Meanwhile, brown eyes as warm as the hand resting over his heart
traveled over skin already sensitized. Cool air in room, warm hands on body,
even hotter eyes drinking it all in.
Their gazes met. Xander licked his lips. "Take the rest off," he
commanded,
voice hoarse.
Spike hurried to comply. As more of his body was revealed, he could almost
feel Xander's heartbeat race, hear the sharp exhalations of breath catch as
the boy stood watching him. He straightened and squared his shoulders,
inviting inspection.
Xander moved toward him, stepping out of his trainers and unbuttoning those
silly short pants he wore. Spike's fingers itched to help, only the rapid
breathing of the person in front of him made him keep his hands resting by
his sides.
They were trembling, both of them, the bond between them seeming to form a
tenuous arc from living to undead. Afraid, Spike didn't want this to end
before it had actually begun. Another night of wanting and twisting dreams
scattering his sleeping thoughts.
He would wait, watching for that moment permission would be granted to touch
again. So hard to keep to himself. To not just take what was before him.
Baggy khakis shuffled to the floor and large tan hands roamed in the air
over the waistband of dark-colored boxers.
Spike tilted his head, noticing for the first time the ruddy swollen
knuckles. He reached out and, surprised, found the distance between them to
be mere inches. He ignored the bulging pants to instead grasp Xander's
hands, pulling them closer.
"Well, you're just a whole bundle of itchy stings, aren't you?" For
me, for
me, that small not-so-secret place in him crowed, all of this for me.
"Yeah," the shaky voice answered, "to look at me you wouldn't
guess I'm not
an into pain kinda guy." An even shakier laugh followed.
Pity. Spike peered at Xander's darting eyes.
"Don't believe I ever thanked you properly, mate."
He leaned over and placed his lips on the largest knuckle of each hand he
held. Then, turning them palm up, he repeated the gesture, daring himself to
laugh at his own ritualistic sentimentalism.
While his lips were still lingering in the caress of the lined palm, he felt
Xander lean toward him, sealing the arc between them. Spike could feel the
boy's rapid heartbeat against the top of his head and couldn't help but turn
and rest his cheek there, flicking out his tongue to barely touch one brown
nipple. Xander's hands, released from their benediction, pulled his head up.
"You're welcome," was breathed against his lips before they were
taken.
Can we just do this forever, the small voice inside him asked. Can we just
keep this feeling, this warmth, almost acceptance, hands running on naked
skin, heaving chest causing this to all feel so...so alive and real. Can we
hold on long enough to this mouth breathing fire against skin too long
untouched, tongue tracing paths of arteries long dead, damp silky hair
tickling skin aching for touch, rough fabric beneath hands, then skin,
rounded smooth, strong.
Spike felt tugging and followed, by choice or force he cared not. Brief
stumbling over discarded clothing barely noted, not when this magnet of
intense wanting held him, pulled him.
More rough fabric, almost a balm of distraction from roaming hands and
thrusting hips and, oh God, moans. His, Xander's, almost in harmony, the
beauty of the sound almost making him shake.
He would never get enough of that mouth; he knew that already as he licked
the upper lip and sucked on the lower. He would become addicted to these
hands, now running down the backs of this thighs, and thank you, pet, for
the strategic placement of this bed upon which they now sprawled. Coarse
leg hairs tickled the soles of his feet. Wiry pubic hair now rubbed against
his cock, almost forgotten in the myriad of sensations.
He would have to remember to send the little witches flowers, but tomorrow,
maybe the next day.
Everything was slowing, touches becoming less urgent as if each trusted the
other wasn't going anywhere. Caresses flowed into each other in a graceful
dance of need and desire. Spike moved his hand over the quivering stomach
below him and traced his fingers over Xander's straining erection, causing
it to jump. Suppressing another For Me! moment, he continued his featherlike
exploration. Xander stilled, meeting his eyes in the semi-darkness before
riveting his attention to the point where hand met hardness. Spike stroked
slowly, wanting Xander to look at him again. He bent his head and forced
himself into Xander's line of sight as he replaced his hand with his mouth.
"Oh...Um...Oh," he heard Xander gasp as his body stiffened even more,
if
possible.
"Hm?" Spike hummed with a sense of wickedness, then lifted his head to
Xander's stare.
"Oh, I mean, that didn't mean...stop...or anything."
"I didn't think so."
Spike bent his head again. He used Xander's breathy exclamations as a guide,
first going deep, then focusing on just the head, each time feeling his own
body respond as hands returned to his skin, somewhat unsure, but there,
making the connection. The heady scent of arousal spurred him on to swallow
Xander's erection as deeply as he could. He felt the warm body curl around
his, encasing his head as hands reached further and moans became louder.
Spike used his free hand to pet one hip, teasing his fingers over the
hipbone and feeling the skin shiver just at that point. He then realized
what Xander was reaching for and pulled back, looking up.
Heavy lidded eyes were gazing directly at him. Xander was breathing
forcefully, hair falling over his forehead and Spike felt a swell of pride
and tenderness at the picture of debauched vulnerability he had painted.
He
kept one hand running up and down the hardness in front of him and moved the
other to the sweet spot at the hollow of Xander's lower back, stroking
there, dipping his fingers lower on each pass.
"...touch you," was all he needed to hear before he scooted up and
burned
his lips again on those he most craved.
Never before in Spike's relatively long life had he felt his hunger appeased
like this. The continuous craving that had clawed with him out of his grave
and followed him around like a spectre seemed to dissipate in the fire of
Xander Harris' wanton lips.
When hands that had beforehand only ghosted on his skin became surer in
their explorations, Spike moaned his approval into Xander's mouth. This
seemed to spur the boy on. At his first touch on Spike's aching cock, it was
all he could do not to come right there, so real his hopeless fantasies had
become. He forced himself away for a breather, rubbing his face on the top
of the head moving down his chest, inhaling Xander-sweat and shampoo.
"...that breathing thing again," Xander murmured against his chest.
"You.
Breathing..."
Then Spike felt a hot tongue brand his nipple and almost yelped. He couldn't
remember the last time something living had come this close to him without
dying at the end of the encounter.
"...like it, kinda, not in a pervert on the phone way, but..." even
teeth
grazed the skin over his ribs, "...more because it lets me know..."
twin
sensation of callused thumbs brushing his hipbones, "...you're more than a
little into this...I mean, aside..." hot, uncertain breaths on the end of
his cock, "...from the obvious."
Spike raised himself up on his elbows just as a tentative tongue smoothed
over his foreskin, then fell backwards and gave himself up to the Fates.
This was going to be a short encounter indeed. But no one was going to die
at the end of it.
It was more than he'd ever imagined. How could he have known the night would
end like this, his cock gently tongued and petted by that rough-smooth palm?
At the first suck, Spike let out a strangled whimper and looked down only to
have his world skewed by the face looking up at him.
"Pet, I'm -"
Orgasm slammed through him with almost painful swiftness, sliding up his
inner thighs and bursting in his chest, causing Spike to do Xander's
breathing thing all over the place. Xander seemed to dig in and hold on
for
the ride, stilling his movements, but not letting go.
Spike inhaled deeply to try to control the mess of emotion inside of him,
and gave a rueful glance down at the figure lying between his legs. Xander
looked at him, a curious expression on his face.
"Well, that was...short," Spike panted, keeping an eye out for
mocking.
Xander tilted his head. "It happens."
"Oh, this is going to be one of those conversations, then?"
"No, I mean," Xander pulled himself up to lie against Spike's chest,
rubbing
his still hard length against the nearest body part. "It's, uh,
flattering,
I guess. Not like it hasn't happened to me and why did I just admit that to
you?"
Spike couldn't stop his hands from reaching down and fondling what he found.
"Flattering, huh?"
Fiery glance through dark eyelashes and all of Spike's internal organs
flopped. Night definitely wasn't over yet.
"If that's how you meant it."
"Oh, yes, pet, never doubt it."
Spike twisted over Xander's supine form and ran hands, teeth and tongue over
his neck and chest before returning to those lips, now slick and bitter
tasting, which caused a returning throb in his groin. He pulled back for a
better look, only to be stopped short by the wariness he saw written all
over his pet's face.
"Regrets?" he hated asking.
Xander licked his lips, making Spike's cock twitch.
"It's a little late for that, don't you think?"
"Life is too short for grief, regret, or bullshit? I didn't think you were
the carpe diem sort."
"Well, that just proves how little you-Oh! God, yes, more."
Spike didn't even stop to tease, just kept his head bent to the task, so to
speak. He wondered how long this could continue, his head rubbing against
one muscular thigh, the smell of sex and come in the air. Xander was into
pre-language vocalizations, a primordial speech of grunts and wheezes. Spike
lifted his head off the slick cock and started licking and biting the skin
around it, sucking in each of his balls and applying himself to the patch of
skin behind them as Xander's voice went up an octave or two.
He was wrapped in a cocoon of heat, trapped in a jungle of limbs and moans
and tongues and fingers. So overpowered, Spike didn't even realize he was
close to coming again until he felt the roughness of the sheets against his
own erection. Roughness he was humping into with abandon. But he didn't want
it to end again so quickly. He wanted something else, something he hasn't
wanted in so long he'd forgotten how to ask for it.
Slowly easing his fingers and tongue from their places, he pushed himself
onto his knees. Xander looked lost in a haze of feeling and didn't register
the change at first, until Spike placed both hands on the boy's knees and
squeezed.
"Got any slippery stuff, mate?"
Glazed eyes met his. Spike wanted to reach up and kiss him, start this all
over again, but he needed an answer first. When Xander nodded and jerked
with his head, Spike patted his knees and stretched to reach it. Pulling the
tube from the shelf, Spike examined it.
"You know, it's been a while for me, but I think there's better out there
these days. This," he said, waving the tube by its cap, "belongs in
the
doctor's office."
Spike squeezed a glob on his fingers and watched the frightened gaze fixed
on his actions. He put the tube on the floor by the bed and petted
Xander's
chest while rubbing the lube on Xander's warm throbbing cock.
"This won't hurt you a bit, luv," he crooned, trying to calm both of
them.
Spike straightened long tan legs and straddled Xander's waist, trapping the
heat between them. He reached down and continued the rhythmic stroking on
the slick erection. He raised himself up and slowly lowered his body with a
groan that echoed off the walls as the blunt head seared his insides.
Once he felt that hardness fully inside him, Spike realized Xander was
almost hyperventilating and lying too still.
"Easy, luv. It takes me a moment to adjust, then the fun begins." He
continued petting Xander's chest, skirting around the healing wound. He
used the same hand as leverage to push himself up and begin a rocking
motion, when Xander grabbed his wrist.
"Just wait a second." Convulsive swallowing and long breaths.
"Please."
Spike noted the super dilated pupils and shaking legs beneath his ass. "Not
to worry. Just enjoy. Besides," he said, lifting up and thrusting down,
"'s'flattering, init?"
But Xander had no words, and he seemed to give himself over to the
thrusting, closing his eyes and placing his hands on Spike's hips. Spike
reached behind him and grabbed Xander's thighs, arching his back to get the
best angle. Oh yes.
It had been too long. Bladed heat coursed though his body as he continued to
ride Xander's cock, increasing the pace of his thrusts. Mist clouded his
vision and he threw his head back and lost track of time, caring only for
the sweetpainjoltingpleasure burning into his core. Again their moans were
in harmony and Spike glanced down to see Xander looking at him in such
wonder, closing and opening his eyes again as if he might disappear. Spike
wondered what he was feeling, how it felt to be the one doing the branding,
tattooing his insides with his presence. Xander's hands grabbed his hips
frantically and Spike knew he was close, was probably just barely holding
on. He twisted his hips and surrendered to the feelings inside when a hot
hand closed around his cock making him jump, and then start to throb as
Xander convulsed beneath him and his own cock responded, both their cries
almost drowning out the sound of the window unit.
Spike roused himself and looked around. It was still dark, indicating not
much time had passed. He was covered in spunk and had smelled better days.
He turned on his back to find Xander watching him with sleepy eyes.
"You can use my shower if you want," the equally sleepy voice greeted
him.
"Well, not really a shower, more like a cubicle with a leak, but it does
what it's supposed to."
Spike ignored the dull thud inside as nothing more than hunger.
"Right, quick shower, then I'll be on my way."
He pushed out of the tangle of limbs, relocating his from the heavier ones
entwined and tried to stand. A large hand on his arm stopped him.
"You can't go anywhere, Spike." The hand let go. "Unless you want
me to get
out of this very comfortable position I don't want to move from to follow
you home."
Spike searched the face half in shadow for some sign of something other than
sleepiness.
"So I guess I'll just go and shower then," he said still searching and
seeing nothing to write home about.
The hot water was a blessed relief from the usual and Spike took his time
getting clean, making sure to use every bath product he could find in the
tiny stall. He exited with a towel around his waist, debated whether or not
to put his clothes back on, and found Xander sitting on the bed watching
some car chase on the telly with a sheet wrapped around his shoulders. Over
the din of screeching tires, Spike could hear muffled thumps and curses from
the ceiling. He looked from the noise above him to the huddled form on the
bed, and thought about something he vaguely remembered being mentioned
through the haze of Xander's earlier anger, and the not-so-vague memory of
what had just happened, and of hot showers.
Spike climbed on the bed behind Xander, leaned against the couch back and
started rubbing his feet along tense shoulders. He couldn't help the
touching. It was as automatic as wanting blood, this need: contact, a
connection.
"This allowed?"
The back tensed more before Xander swiveled around to face him.
"Please don't mention the word rules right now."
"Alright." Spike shrugged. Then because he couldn't help himself,
"Are there
rules?"
Xander seemed to think about it, almost scowling, and stared at Spike's
feet, now in his lap searching for naughty bits. He grabbed the foot closest
to his hand and started massaging it, then stopped when something crashed
upstairs. He pushed Spike's feet out of his lap and turned back around.
"No blood in the bed," Xander said, still facing the television.
"But
touching's okay, I guess."
Spike smiled. He was sure there were a whole lot of rules in that boy's
head, but he didn't really want to go there at the moment. It could all be
sorted out later, if Spike played carefully. He reminded himself not to go
off his head over the boy, then spent too much time examining his nails
while trying to ignore the laughing voice inside. When that became boring he
curled up on the bed. He pulled a rumpled blanket over his legs and hoped
for dreamless sleep.
* * * * * * * * * *
"Xander," Spike sing-songed close to one visible ear, only to be
ignored.
He pulled back and studied the sleeping face he had woken up next to.
Better than spiced rum, he decided before uncurling from the position in
which he'd fallen asleep. Xander was on his stomach, face mashed into the
pillow, lips slightly parted and allowing tiny snores to escape. One arm had
been flung out to encompass Spike's waist, but otherwise they had slept
apart. Before lifting the arm to release himself Spike allowed a last lick
against the shoulder closest to his face, even though the previous ten had
done nothing to rouse his sleep-mate. Oh yes, definitely better.
He stood, indecisive, and stared at his clothes, deciding at last to pull
his jeans on and partially button them. He glanced at Xander, still asleep,
one more time before heading to the other side of the room where his food
lay congealed in tiny packets.
He brought his heated breakfast back over to the bed and sat on the corner,
turning so he could study the form still lying there. At the curve of one
hip jutting out just so, the small of his back was exposed by the errant
sheet he must have wrapped around himself after Spike had fallen asleep.
It
was a vulnerable spot to Spike, lacking the muscle that now filled out the
rest of his frame, hairless and smooth with soft skin just aching to be
touched, licked.
Tired of wondering just where his head had gone, Spike drained the last of
the blood and got to work. He went to the corner cupboard and reached in the
back, behind the commemorative Taco Bell issued Star Trek glasses he'd been
ordered never to even dare look upon and pulled out the lockbox. Using the
same paring knife he'd used days before, Spike picked the child's lock and
opened the box. He pulled a stack of tens and fives out of his pocket and
stuffed them under the pile of cash already scattered in there. He shuffled
the money around, then shook his head, realizing the prat was either going
to notice the money or not, regardless of where it was in the tin.
I am evil, he reminded himself, I am not good or loyal or any of that
bollocks he carries around on his shoulders.
He eased the box back in its not-so-hiding place and decided it was late
enough to turn on some shows, since boredom might make him overstay his
welcome more than the noise level could.
Xander woke in degrees as Spike watched out of the corner of his eye.
First, legs stretched and flexed; then snores turned to shallower breathing;
the heartbeat sped up to normal human rate as one hand rubbed still closed
eyes. Spike decided it wouldn't be the most tedious pastime, watching some
people sleep.
Only passion that we waste is suffering, he recalled, then snorted at his
self-aggrandizement. What good was quoting your own rot poetry to
yourself?
"Morning, Sunshine," he greeted the rumpled form peering up at him.
Xander stretched most fetchingly and yawned. "A creature of the night who's
an early riser. How-why am I thinking right now?" At this, he grabbed the
sheet around his hips and pulled it over his head.
Spike stared at him for a moment then shrugged and changed the channel.
* * * * * * * * * *
"Why are we watching this again?"
"Because it's my TV and you don't get to vote."
"Fair enough, but I didn't think you were the sporting type." Spike
reached
under his side of the bed and grabbed another handful of Cheetos.
"Hey! You said there weren't any cheesy puffs left."
Spike moved his arm up to block Xander from leaning over him. "'Ey! You're
blocking the telly. That tall bloke was about to take a shot." He then
threw
his hands in the air. "Look. You made me miss it!"
Xander feinted to the left, then attempted to dive over Spike, only to be
waylaid by a hand to his chest. "What's the crunching?" he asked while
catching his breath.
"Babies' bones; tasty, especially if roasted. Care to try one?" He
cocked
his head and released his hold, albeit with reluctance.
Spike waited until Xander sat back down, feeling a prickling of heat when he
settled a little closer than he'd been previously, then pulled the
half-empty bag out from under the bed. Xander's eyes lit up as he shoved his
hand elbow deep into the bag.
"So what's with the tall sweaty men?"
Xander barely dragged his attention from the bag to answer,
"Play-offs."
Spike raised his eyebrows and waited. He was ignored until he grabbed the
bag back. Addictive little buggers.
Xander sighed. "Look, I work with guys named Joe and Little Bobby--which
is,
by the way, a misnomer--and I have to have something to talk to them about.
I tend to think 'Nasty vamp action this weekend' isn't exactly making one
with the guy talk. I'd like to pretend I belong while I'm actually
there."
He ducked his head and moved a little, causing his shoulder to rub against
Spike's.
Kill them, Spike wanted to say. Break their oversized hammy necks, the gits.
Then again, Xander probably was a bit of a freak to those men, too nice and
too quick with a big goofy smile and a tendency to make one want to smile
back.
Too warm pressure along one side of his body that gave the impression of a
purposeful leaning. Spike studied Xander in sideways glances, but saw
nothing. Only the rubbing pressure of his knuckles against Spike's thigh
giving any clue. He could play along.
"So, you engage in conversation about men running back and forth on a court
in order to fit in?"
"And how is it exactly you would describe soccer? More dignified, because
they're running back and forth on grass?"
"Can't have a proper riot in an arena. Where's the pitch invasion? Where's
the mass trampling, the crush of human bodies?" He rose up on his knees and
swung over until he was straddling Xander's thighs. "That's where the
true
nature of a person comes out," he finished, leaning forward.
Xander leaned back slightly, but kept his gaze locked on Spike's.
"Basketball's not so bad. It's uh, fast-paced and, um...intense."
Spike felt the shift under his thighs as that tantalizing mouth moved
closer. "I like intense."
But he was denied as Xander leant back, instead reaching up to brush his
hand against Spike's chest.
"You have no heart." It was said almost as an afterthought.
Spike lifted the hand to his mouth, sucking on orange-tinted fingertips.
"And you taste like salty junk food, but that's not stopping me."
He felt Xander's stare on his mouth as he prolonged his exploration, licking
between fingers and bringing his lips back up to suck on each fingertip in
turn. He nuzzled into the palm, which seemed to cup around his face with a
tenderness Spike hadn't experienced in decades. He nipped at the pad of one
thumb before closing his mouth around it, becoming lost in a swirling haze
of sensory input. Taste, smell, touch, even hearing was affected, the
rubbing rasp of his jeans against Xander's shorts proof that more body parts
were becoming involved.
Xander removed his hand from Spike's mouth, moving it around the nape of his
neck and pulling his head forward. Spike moaned as soon as their lips met,
before there was full contact even, so desperate he'd been to do this all
morning.
As if emboldened by Spike's enthusiasm, Xander tightened his grip and tilted
his head, opening his mouth wider. Spike dove in as far as he could,
bringing both hands up to touch the stubbled face, loving the feel of
roughness beneath his fingertips.
That's what he is, Spike realized, rough edges around this seething alive
thing that squirms and rubs against me, his tongue making its home alongside
mine, all softness hidden beneath his jagged rawness.
Xander's other hand trailed down Spike's back to its base, resting there and
rubbing. Spike would have smiled if his mouth hadn't been otherwise
occupied, it seemed that was a sweet spot for Xander as well. He arched his
back into the touch, moaning his appreciation.
They were soon plastered chest to chest, hard cock to hard cock, tongue to
tongue and Spike didn't want to let go. He attempted to reach between them
to unbutton his jeans, but Xander pushed against him, hindering him with his
own seeming need for more contact.
"Begging, Spike?" Xander leaned back in, as if drawn to the contact.
"How
unseemly." He then started sucking on Spike's neck, sending
shockwaves of
pleasure throughout his body, down to his toes. The action created a pocket
between them, allowing Spike to finally work a hand against Xander's warm
stomach and down to unbutton the clothing that separated them.
But how he wanted more of that mouth. Wanted to keep them joined there for
as long as possible. Spike dipped his head to Xander's neck, sucking and
licking his way back to warmth and wetness.
They were both working at each other's clothing, made more difficult by the
apparent inability each had to separate their mouths. Spike managed to yank
their bodies down sideways, easing the way for them to finish disrobing.
Then there was nothing but skin, slightly cool to the touch from having been
shirtless in the air conditioning, but alive and pliantly human. His. They
remained on their sides, feet tangling together, legs rubbing against inner
thighs and mouths fused together. Spike could feel the tickling warmth of
Xander's breath against his cheek, glad he wasn't sucking all his needed
oxygen out of his lungs.
Hands found hard cocks with almost simultaneous ease. Spike's mind was
skyrocketing with pleasure. His desire grew in intensity, forcing their
reluctant mouths to part and then harsh pants were warming his neck and
shoulder where Xander's teeth had latched; the keening moans he was making
vibrated against Spike's chest, dizzying him.
Xander's hand squeezed and stroked his cock, but the biting sensation in the
crook of his neck spurred Spike to want, need more. "Harder," he
gasped out.
Xander paused for a moment, then twisted them so his previously trapped arm
was freed enough to reach somewhere outside Spike's visual range. When he
brought his hand back, it was to shove something cold between them.
Spike paused, looking at the tube.
"That thing," Xander murmured while unscrewing the cap, "what you
were doing
with y-your...mouth and hands...last night..."
Spike became aware of something momentous and brand spanking new to both of
them that was about to happen and his hand slowed its caresses. He was
having a difficult time processing both that and the pleasure zinging from
the cool tickling pressure being applied to his erection.
"That was intense," was whispered in his ear.
Do this right, Do this right, he chanted to himself. "Liked that, did
you?"
He didn't wait for an answer, just put aside the lube and pushed Xander on
his back. "Well, let's try that again, then, shall we?"
Xander's hands scrambled for the discarded tube, but Spike placed it on the
floor. The offer was flattering, and the cool slickness on his cock was more
than a little distracting, but Spike wasn't ready for that yet. He just
wanted the boy to get used to having him in his bed for right now.
It took little to get Xander writhing beneath him. Spike began alternating
between sensuous stroking and teasing licks along and down his ribcage,
sucking on each hipbone--fast becoming his second favorite spot due to their
apparent sensitivity--before spreading his legs apart. Xander's breathing
hitched as Spike began nuzzling and licking everywhere. The keening noise
returned when he was spread open, Spike's tongue moving in tandem with the
rise and fall of his chest.
Once again, Spike found himself wrapped in heat and wanting, fingers and
tongue creating moans the likes of which he'd never heard before. He slid
his fingers deeper than he had last night, rubbing with gentleness he didn't
know he possessed, using his other hand to trace along the trail of dark
hair on the quivering stomach.
"Oh God, Spi-," the rest was lost in one breathy exhalation.
I'm doing this to him, Spike thought over and over, I am. He was humping the
sheets, not caring this time if he came all over himself. He leaned up and
took Xander's bobbing cock all the way into his mouth, stroking his fingers
deeply, moving up and down and in and out in time with Xander's harsh
breaths. He set pace with the drumming in his ears, with the exhaled
moans,
with his own undulations into the mattress. When Xander's thighs tightened
around his shoulders, Spike quickened his pace, stroking deeper, sucking
harder. The snug heat surrounding his fingers started to spasm and at that
moment Spike was gone, lost spiraling into his own abyss of pleasure,
swallowing on reflex, the rushing noise in his head drowning out any noise
Xander might be making.
* * *
He was being pulled up by his shoulders. He tried to move, but that was an
action he was having some difficulty accomplishing as he was quite happy
where he was, thank you very much, and succulent rhymes a bit with effulgent
when said with the right accent, but not with Xander Harris, who definitely
tasted hotter than any kind of rum, and why was he always the one needing a
shower at the end of these encounters, anyway?
Xander made a throat-clearing noise. "Um, Spike? You alive?"
"No," Spike answered, drawing out the sound it seemed forever, but was
most
likely only a grunt, "but that's not news, is it?"
A soft chuckle sounded from somewhere under his head. Spike became aware of
smooth skin beneath his cheek and crinkly hairs tickling his nose. He nudged
into the still heaving stomach, licking the inviting innie near his mouth.
"Your head's heavy," Xander complained, still tugging him by his
armpits.
"Lightweight."
But Spike complied, crawling up the rangy body before collapsing with his
head on Xander's shoulder, holding back a sigh as an arm wrapped around his
back with seeming ease.
Xander lifted his head, grumbling, "Missed the end of the game."
"Oh well, you'll just have to tell your new mates you were too busy
shagging
to notice."
"What? The truth? I'm shocked, Spikey. Shocked and disappointed, I tell
you."
Spike snorted and rearranged his body for maximum heat and comfort in the
embrace of Xander's arm. The body next to his moved with him, making it
easier to...
When did it become so effortless to feel this closeness, this comfortable
silence except for the hum and noise of newscasters? How was it Xander's arm
had become the perfect place to rest and feel safe and sated for the first
time in months? Weren't they supposed to hate each other, bite at each
other's weak spots, scratch where it would hurt the most, draw blood?
Spike pulled up one of Xander's hands, examining by the late afternoon light
the roughness he could feel there. It was more than blood that this spell
had wrought; he had to face that now. How much would he be willing to
sacrifice? How much would Xander? How much of this had been taken out of
their control?
He'd underestimated the Slayer and her -ettes far too often. Most recently,
he'd realized their strength was their closeness, even after it had been so
easy to pick them apart. One day he might try that again, just for the fun
of it.
But not with this one.
Spike returned the damaged hand to its original resting place against his
hip and closed his eyes against realizations he didn't want to face at that
moment.
